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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years ago

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To Be Free - CH01

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Escaping and hiding away, that’s what she wants to do. Her parent’s remote cabin in the mountain sounds like the best place for it. There, she meets someone from her past — a green-eyed mountain man.

Chapter Warnings: A little back story, cheating (not Dean), language, threats being made, car accident

WC: 2481

Beta: @winchest09 <3

A/N: So, this is the beginning of the Mountain Man!Dean AU. I hope you’ll like it!

Read ahead on Patreon!

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

The phone buzzes on the seat next to her. Again.

It hasn’t stopped ringing since Y/N had gotten into the car and drove away. She’s so close to just throwing it out of the window but then again, the rational side of her brain tells her that she would endanger the automobiles around her on the highway, and she doesn’t really want to cause any damage, or accidents, if it can be avoided.

“You’re a goody-goody.” Mick always used to say, “It’ll get you in trouble if you don’t toughen up.”

Perhaps Mick was right. She probably was not made to work in that firm where she has to help fucking criminals. But then again, he made it seem so plausible and she can’t believe that she fell for it all. Y/N had fallen for the prestige, for the fame, and most of all, she had fallen for Mick, and that was the worst fucking mistake.

The events of that night flash before her eyes once more.

It’s 9 PM. Mick usually doesn’t have a reason to work so late unless he has a meeting with the mob family that they have under their wings. She never liked to go to their meetings, always found an excuse to opt out. The way the men always stare at her like she was a piece of meat rather than a woman with a brain, always sent a chill down her spine.

When she stepped out of the elevator, the floor was dark. There’s only minimal light coming from the reception area that’s vacated at this time of the night. Y/N never liked to be here after hours but it’s the only place she thought she could find Mick. He didn’t pick up his phone when she called him which was highly unusual. Somehow, she was a little afraid of what she would find. It could be him just laughing and joking with the mobsters, but it could also have been him bruised and beaten beyond recognition because the Family wasn’t happy with his work, or it could be worse. He could be dead. Today was his birthday too and she even ordered catering for the both of them to enjoy at home. She guessed that she would have to pop the dishes into the microwave because by the time she decided to check here, it was already starting to turn cold.

Walking further along the hallway, she noticed that the lights in Mick’s office are still on and a sense of relief washed over her, while the sense of dread built up in the pit of her stomach at the same time.

“Oh god, Mick.”

There was a faint moan that carried through the hallway of the offices. It made her blood freeze, but it forced her to walk faster.

“Mmh,” she heard Mick humming. “Always so fucking tight for me, Eve. Such a good pussy.”

“Better than Y/N, I’d hope.”

Mick chuckled, “I’d rather you not talk about her while I fuck you. You know you’re my best girl, baby.”

The dread in Y/N’s stomach intensified and something began to churn inside of her. She had to clutch it so as not to just hurl out the whole contents into the next pot plant she could find.

Eve was her friend. Her best friend since she moved into the city two years ago. She was even the one who helped Eve to get a job at her boyfriend’s firm.

Well, not her boyfriend anymore, she guessed.

She reached the door, fingers clutched around the frame for purchase as she took in the image before her. Eve was bent over the table, Mick half undressed, fucking into her from behind.

He threw his head back as he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he turned his head and their eyes met.

For a brief second, she thought she saw a smirk twisting at his lips when he noticed her. He kept on pounding into Eve, though, his pace never faltered.

Y/N retreated, tears pooled in her eyes and she moved on autopilot. Before she knew it, she found herself in her office, packing the things that she needed into her laptop bag.

‘Stupid! So fucking stupid!’ she thought. She should have seen it. Why hadn’t she seen it? The red flags were always there. Mick always gave her assignments that would see her traveling all over the country for a long stretch of time. She would find receipts of hotels laying around in the apartment, or when she did laundry, but he always had a good reason. They hadn’t been intimate for a long time, too. Mick was always too tired and if he wasn’t then she would be. And if that happened, he would get out of bed and said that he needed a drink and was out of the apartment before she could even say anything. She was so engrossed in her work and too oblivious to what was going on, that she ignored all the warning signs.

She was crying now, the tears not stopping. But it’s not over Mick. She would never cry over a man who had treated her like this. She cried for herself, for being dumb enough to let someone play her.

Bending down to pack the remainder of her things, she opened her last drawer, revealing a little safe that was neatly tucked inside. Without hesitation, she punched in the combination and it sprang open. It contained a single USB stick.

Picking it up, she clutched it in the palm of her hand. She had forgotten about the small device and now she knew why Mick kept her around. She was the only person who had a copy of the shady business his clients are doing, because she was involved as much as Mick. He was never going to give her up because if the information got leaked, he'd be taking the fall.

There were footsteps along the hallway, the thumping sounds getting louder as someone rushed to her office and she quickly let the stick slip into her jean pocket.

“What are you doing?” he asked too casually but with a bitter undertone, acting like he hadn’t just fucked her best friend.

“What does it look like?” she snarled, patience wearing thin. “I quit. And don’t even come by my apartment anymore.”

He walked in further; his hair was ruffled and the buttons on his shirt were hastily done up, the material lopsided as he had fastened them wrong. She was so disgusted by his appearance.

Mick rubbed his hand over his chin, carefully thinking about his next words. “I need the USB stick before you leave.”

She snorted. That’s typical. All he could think about is his fucking business. “I don’t have it.”

“Liar!”

“Oh, look who’s talking.” Maybe, just maybe, she shouldn’t anger him but screw that.

“Y/N.” Mick rounded up around her desk and came to stand right before her. The scent of sex hit her nose in waves. It made her nauseous. “You’re going to get into so much trouble if they know that you have it and believe me, if you walk out of here, they will find out because I will tell them.”

“I’m not scared of those men.”

Mick laughed. Fucking laughed.

“They’ll come for you, Y/N. Those men are not to be fucked with.” He was still chuckling when he said, “They will find you and they will kill you.”

She cocked her eyebrow, and maybe she should have been scared of Mick and his threats but she’s still got the upper hand. If she got to expose him first, she has bargaining leverage. Maybe she’d get to be in a witness protection program. By the time it hits the fan, she will hopefully be long gone.

“I don’t have it,” she said again as she bumped her shoulder against his on her way out, shoving him to the side.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Mick called after her, his voice echoing in the almost empty hallway.

With her head held high, she descended the stairs, too impatient and not to say scared to wait for the elevator.

The phone buzzed again after having only stopped for a short time. It actually hasn’t stopped ringing since she drove back to her apartment to pack her duffel with enough clothes that should last her for a couple of days. She wanted to get out of here, clear her head, think about what to do next.

It’s after she stopped for gas that she remembered the remote cabin that belonged to her parents. They hadn’t been up there for a while as the health of her father was deteriorating but she knew where they kept the spare key, and it’s the only place she knew nobody would come looking for her because she hadn’t been with Mick long enough to let him in on the existence of the cabin, nor on the memories the place held.

Buying enough food that would last her a couple of days, she drove towards the foot of the mountain.

It was February and the roads were icy as it had snowed just last night. She hoped that her car would have enough power to get her up there, as she didn’t have snow chains with her. Not that she knew how to put them on in the first place. If worse comes to worst, she’d have to abandon her car and hike up the last bit, which was totally fine with her too. Anything to get away from civilization.

As she made her way up the snowy road and rounded up the twelfth bend in the street (There were fourteen - she had counted them from the drive up there every winter), her phone buzzed again.

She glanced over to the passenger seat to catch the caller ID. It could be her mother for all she knew and that one, she would pick up. Y/N would maybe tell her that she was on the way to the cabin so that they wouldn’t be too worried if they can’t get a hold of her, because the reception could be pretty spotty up there.

But no, it’s fucking Mick again. She rolled her eyes upon seeing the name flash on the screen before turning her gaze back to the snow-covered street in front of her, but it was already too late. Out of her periphery, she caught it. The deer that ran out of the woods, its eyes wide when it saw the headlights of her SUV. Her foot hit the break immediately, but it was too late. The car swerved on the icy ground and she hoped she didn’t hit the animal before her vision goes black.

Dean was sitting in his recliner in the cabin while he enjoyed his glass of bourbon. It’s his downtime, one of his favorite pastimes, next to spending his days out with Stevie, his Bernese mountain dog.

He had been coming to this cabin since his early childhood, having only missed one Winter out of the many. There were times where he would only spend a week up here but also there were times where he would be there for the whole winter. It’s his favorite place, always has been.

The cabin is not as big as the ones that surrounded it, but it’s enough. It has only one bedroom, yet it was cozy. He remembered back to when he was younger, when he and his younger brother would sleep on the fold-out couch while his parents took the bedroom. Sometimes if Sam was upset with him, Dean would spend the night on the rug in front of the fireplace instead, and it was the best thing. He almost felt bad for wanting to get into a fight with Sam more often so that his sibling wouldn’t look at him funny when he wanted to spend the night on the floor instead of on the worn-out couch.

Once his parents stopped their annual visit up there, and they wanted to sell the cabin, Dean had saved enough money to buy it from them. There were just too many memories tied to the little property, too many of them that he wasn’t willing to just forget.

While he took a sip from his tumbler, Stevie lifted her head and twisted her ears.

Dean noticed, and immediately reached down to pat the dog's head, “What's wrong, Stevie?”

The dog ignored him to get up and walk over to the door, letting out a whine as her nails started to scratch at the wood.

“Easy, girl,” he soothes the agitated dog. “You wanna go out for a walk again?”

Stevie whined some more, her scratching becoming more frantic.

“Right,” Dean sighed as he got out of his seat. He took his time to empty his tumbler before setting it down on the coffee table. “Let’s go then.”

The snow had started to fall again as they got out of the cabin, and he ducked inside once more to grab his hat that’s hanging on the hook right behind the door. Stevie was not impressed that it was taking Dean so long to get ready and started to bark.

“Easy, Stevie,” he chuckled as her wet nose nuzzled against his palm. He reached down to scratch behind her ear, a motion that seemed to calm her down. “Good girl.”

They made their way down the street. The old snow crunched underneath his boots. Fresh layers of the white powder would cover over it soon enough, erasing their prints when it settled. He thought about doing their usual nightly walk around the perimeter, wondering if maybe they’d see a deer or two. Stevie had a way with deer. They love to meet her and Dean’s always mesmerized by the unusual bond they had. Stevie was always good with other animals and people, the dog’s sense to protect everyone is highly admirable, and Dean really couldn’t wish for a better companion.

As they rounded up the second bend in the road, he saw the car. Its headlights were still on but the front was wrapped around a tree which was the only thing standing between the car and the abyss. It was not a strong pine and the wood was already creaking under the weight.

Stevie rushed forward and Dean followed suit. The tree was going to give in at any minute, he just knew and if he couldn’t save the car, maybe he would be able to save whoever was stuck in there.

Dean thankfully reached the vehicle in time, yanking the driver’s door open and the sight of the girl slumped over the steering wheel made his blood run colder than the icy road he was standing on.

“Y/N?”

CH02

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

#to be free #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #mountain man!Dean #nathalie writes

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svnflowervol666 · 4 years ago

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Ma Petite Chérie: Babymoon (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Read more from this little universe, Ma Petite Chérie, in my masterlist!

Summary: Harry and Y/N go on their babymoon.

Warnings: pregnancy, smut, fluff

Word Count: 6.4k

Author’s Note: Hello! I wrote this in order to cross off a few requests. I promised Harry and Y/N would have a baby of their own, plus I get asks all of the time to write pregnancy sex - specifically awkward, giggly pregnancy sex. I also got one about Harry getting a love boner, so here is my attempt at shoving all of that down your throat at once. Try not to choke :-) I also just reallllllly love Harry, Y/N, and Tallulah, so I wanted to give them some more love. Also made this one pornstache!Harry, so, there’s that. And one last thing...I know the verb tense is way off in this but I could not be arsed to edit it so plz don’t drag me. I hope everyone enjoys! Take care and TPWK.

“Oh my god,” Y/N huffed as she collapsed on the plush sofa in the living room of the cottage.

“It feels so fucking good out here by the water.”

“Breeze is nice, innit?” Harry replied as he rummaged through the kitchen cabinets to check out how well the place he’d rented for the week was stocked.

“Beats going t’ France at the end of June. Think I’m kinda gettin’ tired of Paris t’ be honest.”

“That is quite possibly the snobbiest thing I’ve ever heard you say, Mr. Styles,” she said with a laugh as she began to flip through the tourist brochures that were left on the coffee table.

Not that they’d be partaking in any of it, no. Their plan was to hole up in the quaint, Scottish cottage that sat right on the coast of the North Sea for the whole week, not even planning on changing out of their pajamas.

It was their babymoon after all - a time of peace and tranquility before the arrival of their first child together.

Harry hummed and he made his way from the kitchen to where Y/N was seated on the couch. He stood behind her, knees knocking against the back of the sofa as he crouched down and wrapped his arms around her very large, very swollen belly.

“If I recall correctly, Mrs. Styles, I sat my injured arse in a stiff train seat to Edinburgh for five hours because someone was too scared to fly even though they were cleared to do so by three separate doctors.”

“’M not Mrs. Styles for another year and a half,” Y/N muttered under her breath, albeit not trying to keep Harry from hearing it in the slightest.

Harry snickered into her neck, then playfully nipped her earlobe with his teeth as he whispered.

“Not my fault yeh got knocked up and we had t’ push the wedding.”

“It is very much your fault, Harry,” Y/N swatted at his face, fingers first brushing his jawline that was covered in a rough stubble and then just barely tracing the full-blown mustache that sat like a caterpillar above his bright pink top lip.

Harry smirked down at her, nostrils flaring wide and lips disappearing inside of his mouth.

“How’s your rib?” Y/N asked suddenly.

“Good. Why?” Harry’s brows quickly furrowed together in confusion as to why she was asking about his injury.

“Might have to ride that later if you’ve got the lungs for it,” she tapped her index and middle fingers along her philtrum, right where Harry’s mustache sat on his own face.

Her blunt lewdness had Harry’s cock immediately growing stiff in his pants. It had been a while. His injury coupled with her being in the last trimester of her pregnancy had left them both feeling unsatisfied for the past several weeks. Maybe this babymoon would prove to be relaxing not only because Harry and Y/N get to spend a week without a rambunctious almost six-year-old screaming at all hours of the day, but for other reasons too.

“Think I’d actually drop dead from happiness if yeh sat on m’ face right now, lovie. But, before yeh get too comfortable with that idea, we need t’ head into town. Kitchen’s only got the necessities, and I doubt yeh want t’ eat homemade bread for a week.”

“I’m sure you’d love to eat homemade bread for a week,” Y/N jested, poking fun at Harry’s latest obsession with the carb-filled food.

“Remind me again why I put up with you?” Harry toyed as he extended his arms out towards Y/N to use as leverage to help her hoist herself up from the couch.

When she regains her balance, she lifts herself up just slightly to press a quick kiss to Harry’s lips that he happily accepts. Y/N hums and jokingly checks the imaginary watch that sits on her wrist.

“How much time do you have? That list is pretty long.”

The trip to one of the only supermarkets in the small part of Edinburgh that they were staying in had proved to be rather tiring, because Harry opted to use store-bought pasta instead of making his own - something he never does. Maybe it was his healing rib causing him to be short-winded, but he simply could not bring himself to hand-make the pasta they chose to have for dinner that night. He bitched about it all night, about how it wasn’t as chewy as it should be and how it would have tasted much better if he would have just made it himself, but it still didn’t deter him from helping himself to a second serving.

He claimed it was because while he did use pre-cooked pasta, he didn’t use sauce from a jar and made his own from fresh tomatoes and that was the appeal. Y/N just thinks Harry likes to complain and listen to himself talk.

After dinner, just as the sun was setting and Harry and Y/N were waiting for their pasta to digest before they dove into the box of fresh pastries from a bakery they found along the way, they decided to take a walk around the property. The renovated, stone cottage that was overgrown with vines and leaves sat along a short cliffside that overlooked the North Sea. It was a short walk down the cliff that brought them to the beach, where mist from the ocean whisped around their legs and ankles like a thin veil of smoke. While it was the middle of summer, Scotland’s persistent rain showers and their proximity to the water never made it too hot to bear.

“Lulah would love it out here. We’ll have to bring her when the baby’s older.”

“She realIy would,” Harry agreed as he wrapped his sweater further around his chest.

“Know yeh didn’t give birth t’ her, but I swear you two are just alike sometimes. Absolutely hates bein’ hot and gettin’ sweaty just like you.”

Y/N smiled softly and knowingly at Harry before reaching into the pocket of the patchwork sweater of Harry’s that she’d stolen for their stroll on the beach for her phone.

“I’m gonna call her.”

She picked up on the third ring, Y/N’s phone screen then illuminated with a live image of a gap-toothed Tallulah. Well, it’s Mitch’s phone, but she’d been waiting for this promised FaceTime call all day so of course she’s quick to answer.

“Mummy!”

Both Y/N’s and Harry’s heart swelled in their chest when they heard Tallulah speak. It had been several months since she’d decided to start referring to Y/N as her mother, but neither of them had grown used to it just yet. Y/N felt a sense of achievement in “earning” the title of being Tallulah’s mum after all of the years she’d spent with her, and Harry felt a sense of resolution. His family was a real family now, and not just a patchwork of awkward relationships and trust issues. Y/N was Tallulah’s mum and she was now seven months pregnant with their own child and they’d be married by the end of next year. He was actually there to see his child grow this time, they weren’t a secret kept from him out of spite. He’d be there for all of it, even the gross and bloody and goopy bits. And he’d never felt more complete.

“Hi, baby,” Y/N beamed from ear to ear.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re walking on the beach,” Y/N answered.

“Want to see it?”

The five-year-old (five and three-quarters if you asked Tallulah herself) nodded quickly, and Y/N then flipped the camera around to show her the view of the water. Y/N pointed out their cottage from where they stood in the sand, turning the camera to Harry briefly as he held up a peace sign so Tallulah could see that her dad was also on the beach with her. She told her all about the train ride there and how Harry almost slipped and broke his face when was carrying his and Y/N’s luggage into the cottage.

Harry listened to his two little loves talk back and forth with the biggest smile on his face as he absent-mindedly scoured the beach for rocks he could skip along the water. He noticed whenever Tallulah said something that Y/N thought was funny, she had to cup her bump with her hand and forearm to keep it from shaking her entire body. She told him she hated laughing now, because it made her look like Santa Claus, but Harry thought she couldn’t look more beautiful.

“That’s so pretty! Can we all go when the baby is here?” Tallulah asked, puckering into a pout as she begged.

“I think that’s a great idea, Lulah. We were just talking about that, weren’t we, Harry?”

Harry perked up from where he had been washing a sandy shell off in the ocean and suddenly appeared in view of the camera and took the phone from Y/N.

“Hmm?” he asked as he studied Tallulah’s appearance.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Mitch to watch his baby girl while he went away for a week with his other baby girl, it was that him and Sarah voluntarily asked to babysit Tallulah and that’s what made him so apprehensive to accept their offer. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary about a sleepover at Uncle Mitch and Aunt Sarah’s every now and then, but to want to watch his daughter for an entire week certainly was. Harry felt like Mitch was plotting against him and that he’d come back to Tallulah with bright blue hair and bangs or she’d be sporting the world’s worst potty mouth when she came home, but so far that didn’t seem to be the case.

She was wearing Harry’s “Dream Boat” shirt that she’d claimed as her own a few years back when Y/N had taught her to wear her father’s clothes when she missed him because the smell would remind her of him (he had to steal it back and sleep in it a few times every now and then to keep his scent on it), and her long, brown hair was damp and neatly braided into two plaits and hanging off her shoulders. That had to have been Sarah’s doing, because Harry knew Mitch could barely put his own hair into a ponytail without creating several lumps and redoing it eighteen times before it looked presentable - meaning he certainly wouldn’t have been able to make a five-year-old sit still long enough to braid her hair perfectly.

She looked fine, though. Happy, healthy, certainly didn’t have blue hair or bangs and hadn’t said a single naughty thing since she’d been on the phone with Y/N.

“Lulah wants us to come back here after the baby’s born and take her with us,” Y/N beamed.

“I think we can work that out. Sounds quite lovely, actually,” Harry concurred.

“Yeh bein’ good for Mitch and Sarah?”

“Mhmm,” Tallulah nodded.

“We had pizza for dinner.”

“That sounds yummy,” Harry enthused, trying to let his daughter know he had his full attention.

“It was bery good,” she sighed.

There was a long pause before Tallulah blurted out suddenly in the most serious tone, “When are you gonna shave the rest of your mustache? Mitchy was making fun of you today.”

Harry was caught between a gasp and a laugh, which resulted in him choking on his own spit. Y/N turned on her heels in the sand to look at him with wide eyes.

“You okay?” Y/N mouthed quietly to Harry, completely oblivious to everything that had happened in the last thirty seconds.

Harry nodded, wiping the involuntary tears from his eyes as he coughed himself back to life and regained his composure.

“What exactly did Uncle Mitch say about my mustache?” he prodded.

Tallulah shrugged, subconsciously wiggling her loose bottom tooth with her tongue.

“Don’t ‘member. Just that you look weird with it.”

“Well that’s not a very nice thing t’ say, is it?”

“Mummy said you look weird, too,” Tallulah spouted without hesitation.

Her comment left Y/N’s mouth agape, covering her smile with her palm as Harry’s raised eyebrows feigned offense in her direction.

“She did?” Harry asked sarcastically, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Yeah,” Tallulah sighed as if it was exhausting having to tell your own father that his facial hair looks off-putting.

“I think you should shave it, too. It’s scratchy when you kiss me goodnight.”

All Harry could offer in return was stunned laughter while Y/N hid her face in Harry’s peck. Her bump pressed lightly into his and even though he was pretending to be mad at her, he wouldn’t dare think about pushing her off of him - not while she was this warm and cozy against his chest.

“Well, if mummy really hates it I suppose I’ll get rid of it. But,” Harry pauses and pulls Y/N out from where she had burrowed her face into his sweater.

“I think I might know a trick that’ll convince her t’ let me keep i-”

“Enough!” Y/N exclaimed, clamping both of her hands around Harry’s mouth.

Harry chuckled against her palm and poked his tongue through his lips to lick her fingers, which sent her hands flying back down to her leggings so she could wipe them dry.

“I swear to god, Harry. You’re five years old,” she joked with a disgusted expression on her face, to which Tallulah had something to say to that.

“No, I’m five years old!”

The two adults laughed in unison.

“Alright, Lulah. We’re gonna go inside now. ‘S gettin’ kinda cold out,” Harry said.

“We’ll call you tomorrow before bed. Alright, lovebug?” Y/N added.

“Okay,” Tallulah huffed.

“We love you, Lulah,” Harry spoke softly into the microphone.

“Love you, too...Daddy wait!”

“What is it?” he asked.

“Give the baby kisses for me. And no bikes!”

Harry wanted to laugh, but he also wanted to cry, so he settled on a closed-mouthed smile that was enough to convince Tallulah that he was unbothered by what she said.

“Kisses for the baby and no bikes. Got it,” he nodded.

“Okay, I’m gonna go eat some sweets with Sarah!” the child yelled, suddenly energetic like she had temporarily forgotten that her and Sarah had baked cookies twenty minutes before Y/N called.

“Alright, but it’s almost bed time so not too m-!” was all Harry could answer to before his daughter ended the call and presumably raced to where ever Sarah was in their house.

“‘S like she doesn’t even miss us,” Harry mumbled as he placed Y/N’s phone in his back pocket and began walking back up to the cottage with his arm wrapped around Y/N’s shoulder.

Y/N hummed, basking in the warmth that radiated from Harry’s chest as he held her.

“They’re just buttering her up. She’ll be crying to leave by the time we get back.”

“Just don’t really know why they were so keen on keepin’ her t’ be honest.”

Harry positioned himself one step behind her as they walked up the stone steps together, keeping one hand on the small of her back. Y/N peered over her shoulder at him, her tight lips curling up into a smirk as if to say she knew something he didn’t.

“What?” Harry asked.

Y/N shrugged, “Promised I wouldn’t tell.”

Harry clearly didn’t like that answer, because he moved his hand that was supporting her waist and quickly pinched her bum.

“Tell me,” he demanded, eyebrows scrunched together and lips pursed together in what could be considered a childish pout that mimicked Tallulah’s.

Y/N sucked her lips into her mouth, contemplating whether or not she should spill the beans on the news Sarah had shared with her a few weeks prior.

“They’re gonna start trying for a baby soon,” she whispered as if were a long-kept secret told in a room full of nosey people despite the two of them being alone on the otherwise desolate beach.

Harry’s ears perked up, a wide smile adorning his face from ear to ear.

“No fucking way,” he mumbled, and suddenly all of Mitch’s incessant hammering of baby questions he’d sent Harry’s way in the past few months suddenly making a lot of sense.

Harry thought he was trying to be a good friend and stay engaged in Y/N’s pregnancy, but now he understands the real reason behind his behavior.

Y/N nodded deviously as they make their way into the living room of the cottage.

“They’ve been asking everyone they know with kids to let them come over just to see if they can handle it. I mean, if you ask me, I think they’ll do great. Nothing wrong with trying it before buying it, I guess,” she said with a shrug.

“God, he’s gonna be such a good dad,” Harry was practically beaming for his closest friend.

“I know,” Y/N agreed, walking over to Harry to hold both sides of his head in her hands as if he was a disobedient puppy being disciplined.

Her bump prevented her from getting too close to Harry’s chest, the roundest part of her belly nudging Harry’s tummy.

“They’re both very excited. Which is why, when he finally decides to tell you, you have to act surprised. Act like he told you you just won the lottery or something. Alright?”

Harry sarcastically changed his facial expression to mock bewilderment. His eyebrows rose well off into his forehead and his jaw nearly dropped to the floor as he gasped.

“How’s that? Think he’ll buy it?”

Y/N jokingly jabbed him in the shoulder.

“Smartass. I’m going to take a shower. I’m sticky and I smell like the ocean.”

“Guess I gotta keep workin’ on it, then.”

When he’s done cleaning up what was left of their dinner, he heads to the master bedroom with the intention of washing up in the shower after Y/N. He’s messing around with the A/C unit on the window to make sure it’s not set to a temperature that will smother them in their sleep and unpacking their luggage into the wooden dresser, where an antique turntable rests.

Stacked long the side of the record player, there was a handful of old vinyl, most of which Harry either recognized or new very well. He was actually shocked to find a Shuggie Otis album in the collection, to which he quickly slipped the record out of the worn sleeve and set the needle to the edge and waited for the soft sound to fill the room while he worked.

“That thing works?” Y/N’s voice broke up the old 70s tune as she exited the bathroom with her hair tied up with one of Harry’s scrunchies that she stole out of his toiletry bag, wrapped in only a towel that barely fit around her form.

“I know,” Harry agreed, “Needs a new needle but other than that ‘s in pretty good shape.”

“Leave it to you to find a rental with 70s records in the bedroom,” there was a lighthearted tone in her voice as Y/N poked fun at him.

She padded over to her luggage in the corner of the room for a change of clothes, only to realize Harry had unpacked it all for them. As she’s rummaging through the drawers trying to figure out where Harry had put what, she lets her towel drop to the floor freely.

Harry doesn’t know how must time has passed, but he knows he’s staring. He’s staring at the water droplets that drip from the stray hairs on the nape of her neck and run down her bare back. He’s staring at the swell of her stomach where their baby lies, at the faded, almost-shiny stretch marks on the sides and the newer, darker ones on the underside that had only recently broken through. He’s staring at the bracelet on her wrist, the one that’s braided pink and blue with three beads on it - one ‘H’, one ‘T’ and one heart. Tallulah made it for her at school one day and told her the heart was for the baby and also because she loved her. It was hanging on by its last few threads, threatening to snap as each day passed, but she refused to take it off.

All he does know is that he loves her so much that he thinks none of this is real and that he’ll wake up one day and be in his early twenties again with no direction in life and the insidious feeling that he’ll die alone without ever finding his “person.” It’s when Y/N called out to him and snapped him out of his thoughts that he’s realized his underwear are suddenly feeling incredibly tight.

“Har,” Y/N beckoned him away from whatever had been occupying his brain.

“Hmm?”

He resituated himself on the bed and crossed his legs in an attempt to hide himself from her.

“I said the hot water in there’s kinda shit, so you’ll probably want to wait a little bit before you get in.”

“‘S alright,” Harry dismisses, “Come ‘ere.”

He draws her towards him with an outstretched hand, navigating her around the bedpost and over to the side where he had been sitting. With the gentlest of touches, he runs his fingers over her bare legs. The coolness of his rings don’t make well with her skin that was still extremely warm from her shower, causing hundreds of tiny goosebumps to erupt around her thighs. Harry raises her shirt, one of his that she stole when her own clothes became too uncomfortable, but even now she’s nearly stretching this one to its limit, and rests it on top of her bump.

She doesn’t question him, doesn’t chastise him. She lets him love on her, lets him press kisses to her skin just above her belly button (making sure to give an extra one from Tallulah per her request) and rest his cheek against her stomach while his other hand feels around on the other side in hopes to feel the baby move or kick or do something to let him know that they’re there. Lucky for Harry, baby knows when their dad is around and is quick to make themselves known, so he takes a second to savor these last few moment he’ll have with his newest bub before they’re earth-side in a little less than two months.

Y/N lets him be because she knows how important this is to Harry. She knows that he never got these moments with Tallulah and that it’s one of the things that plagued him during those nights where he feels lonely despite her being asleep right next to him. He never got to feel her kick in her mum’s tummy and he didn’t get to see her grow from the size of a pea to the size of a melon before she was welcomed by her parents and the rest of her family that had been waiting anxiously for her arrival.

No, Tallulah was dropped on his doorstep like a wet kitten in the middle of the night. Shivering and crying and just needing someone to hold her and tell her that it was going to be alright because her mother had decided she’d be better off elsewhere. Of course, she was too small to remember, but Harry could never forget it.

So, it’s the least she can do. To let Harry love on her. Love on them.

Her eyes catch his once or twice and she can see the gears in his head turning. There’s something on his mind and he’s hesitant to tell her what it is. Y/N lifts his head by tilting his chin up, her index finger brushing over the healed scar on the underside of his jaw from a few months prior.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” she whispered.

Harry shakes his head, a grin on his lips.

“‘M just really, really happy right now. Happy tha’ I’m here w’ you.”

Y/N smiles back at him genuinely before pulling away from his grasp and gesturing to his lap.

“And I’m happy that I’m here with you. Seems like your little friend is really happy, too.”

A soft groan emits from Harry chest, having realized he’d uncrossed his legs at some point and his very prominent bulge had come into Y/N’s view.

“Sorry, lovie. Didn’t mean t’ make it like tha-”

“I’m just messing with you. You know,” she ponders, “I was half-way kidding when I asked about your lungs earlier. But... This will be the last time we’re kid-free for a while,” she taunted.

“Are yeh asking?” Harry jests and points his thumb towards the bathroom door, “‘Cos I was actually plannin’ on just having a wank in the shower.”

“Oh, okay,” Y/N shrugs and moves his hands off of her waist as she pretends to walk towards the living room.

Before she can take two steps, Harry’s standing up and pulling her back into him for a kiss. It’s full of heat and passion and almost knocks Y/N off of her feet. He cradles her head in his large hands and moves to whisper in her ear.

“Really gonna let me fuck yeh?”

A quiet chuckle escapes her lips, to which she replies, “What else did you think we were gonna do all week?”

He’s unable to bite back his own laugh, and it’s the sweetest sound to ever grace Y/N’s ears.

“Then get on the bed and take yeh clothes off.”

They work quickly, as they’ve conditioned themselves to do over the years of squeezing in any time they can together before they’re interrupted. Y/N lies back on her elbows as she waits for Harry to undo his pants and her breath catches in her throat when his boxers hit the floor.

His cock is hard, not fully, but the sight of the first few beads of glistening precum causes a shiver to run down her spine. She’s blown him a handful of times since he’s been in recovery, but she’s been far too pregnant and he’s been far too injured lately to engage in any kind of actual fun. It’s safe to say that they’re both more than ready.

Harry scratches at his scalp, unsure of how to word his questions as he looks her body up and down.

“How do you...erm...how do you wanna-?”

“My stomach, please,” Y/N says with a laugh.

She quickly reaches for one of the pillows behind her and gets on all fours, wedging the object underneath her bump to keep some of the weight off of her back. Slowly, she arches her spine down towards the mattress, and the glimpse Harry catches of her pussy through the light of the setting sun is enough to send another jolt straight to his cock.

Harry wastes no time joining her on the bed, caressing her hips and moving back to massage the plump skin of her ass. He leans down on top of her, flips her hair over to one side, and begins sucking on the sensitive skin between her neck and jaw.

“Gonna let me taste yeh first, right?” he mumbles into her skin.

Y/N hums in response, attempting to rock backwards in order to feel Harry’s cock rub against her backside. She hears Harry laugh, presumably because he’s caught on to her neediness, so it only pushes him further to be the tease he’s notorious for being.

He sponges wet kisses down her back, getting a rise out of every audible breath that leaves Y/N’s throat.

“Relax, baby,” Harry says when he feels her growing tenser as his kisses travel closer to where she needs him the most.

“Gonna get yeh there. Just gotta be patient.”

Harry presses one last kiss on the final notch of her spine before using one of his hands to spread her legs open just a little bit further. When he parts the globes of her ass, his mouth waters. Her pussy is shimmering with her arousal, perfect and on display just for him.

He tests the waters by running the tip of his tongue from her clit up to her center and he hears a sigh of relief leave Y/N’s lungs at the contact. Next, he’s massaging her folds, exploring her and refamiliarizing himself with the way she tasted. Harry feels her relax into the mattress with each lap of his tongue against her, silently begging him for more. His tentativeness allows him to read her body language and he draws back momentarily to spread her lips apart with his middle and index finger.

The cool air against her core stuns Y/N, but is quickly drowned out with a moan when she feels Harry’s warm saliva drip from her ass down to her clit. His mouth is back on her before she can recover from the sensation, lapping her up and flicking at her clit with his tongue and driving her mad. He’s got his nose buried inside of her as he devours her in the way that he’s really been yearning to for months (he doesn’t count the late night or early morning quickies because he claims he never gets to spend as much time taking care of her as he really wants to). The scruff from his mustache is staunch against her soft folds, but Harry’s tongue is quick to soothe the burn and she loves it.

He smirks against her as she lets out a particularly loud moan when his facial hair brushes against her clit. What was that about shaving my mustache? he thinks to himself but does not dare say aloud.

When he senses that she needs even more, his fingers move from spreading her apart to pressing against her opening. Gathering her wetness on his digits, he slowly pumps them in and out of her. Y/N’s mewls and whimpers are like music to his ears and only spurs him on further. He ruts his hips against the comforter, anything to relieve the throbbing between his legs that is a result of how pliable she’s become for him. She’s soaking the rings on his fingers in the most picture-perfect way and Harry truly genuinely can’t get enough of it; and neither can she. Which is why he’s confused when one of her hands swings around her backside to stop Harry from working her open.

“Har-” she pants.

He withdrawals all contact immediately and peaks his head around to look at her face.

“Yeh good?” he asks as she’s stands up on her knees and turns around to face him.

“‘M great. Wanna be on top now,” she says, her lips plump and swollen from biting down on them so harshly that she nearly drew blood.

“You sure? Yeh don’t want me t’ finish yeh first?”

His eyes dart from her lust-blown eyes to her round belly.

“Mhm. Now lay your pretty ass down before I change my mind.”

She doesn’t have to tell him twice and he’s rolling over on his back, working his way to prop himself up against the headboard. His cock is red and leaking against his stomach, excruciatingly waiting to be buried inside of his girl. He wonders why she’s staring at him with an annoyed expression on her face, but then she speaks up.

“Do you see how pregnant I am? Gonna have to lay all the way down, shit head.”

He does as he’s told and he’s honestly scared that he’ll cum in five seconds if she doesn’t get on with it.

“I swear to god, if you laugh at me,” she grunts as she straddles his waist, “I’ll cut it off.”

“‘M not gonna lau-”

It’s his turn to moan aloud when she grips onto his cock, running it across her folds to collect as much wetness as she can before she allows him to stretch her out. He’s focusing so much on not losing it right then and there that he doesn’t realize she’s stopped and is waiting for the go-ahead. Through his dark, thick lashes, he nods; as if she would have to ask.

Harry reaches for her hands as she lowers herself onto him, the two of them squeezing a bit too harshly when she reaches the last few inches. The burn consumes Y/N from the inside and out, but it’s never felt so right to either of them.

She’s not moving just yet, but her cunt is pulsing around him and it feels almost as good as the real thing. They’re staring at each other, both with looks that relay more than words.

“Love you,” Harry’s face softens as he looks up at her.

“Love you, too,” Y/N smiles as she leans down as far as she can in search of a kiss.

He meets her in the middle and their lips find one another and mash together in harmony. The rocking of their hips reminds both of them what they’re actually doing, and causes both of them to gasp at the way Y/N pumped Harry half-way in and out of her.

When she’s settled back down on the base of his cock, she begins slowly rutting herself back and forth. It takes her just a little bit longer than usual to work up a steady rhythm, but when she’s got it, boy does she got it and it feels so fucking good. The tip of Harry’s cock is pressing against the deepest parts of her and before she knows it, there’s a warm coil winding up in her tummy that bounds itself tighter and tighter inside of her.

She needs to go faster and she needs to go faster now, so she braces her hands on Harry’s chest as she continues to fuck herself on Harry’s cock. Harry lets out a sound that she can’t tell apart between a groan of pleasure and one of pain. His hands dart quickly from where they’d been gripping at her thighs to grip at her wrists.

“Can’t do tha’, lovie. Not the ribs.”

“Shit,” she laughs, subconsciously clenching down on his shaft in the process.

“Sorry.”

“‘S okay,” Harry reassures her as he repositions her hands on his shoulders so she can still have something to grab on to.

“Keep going.”

Her bump is now cradled against Harry’s stomach and it allows her to find relief in the way that her clit is brushing against the trimmed nest of hair that lies around the base of his thick, throbbing cock. He’s twitching inside of her so much that she can feel it alongside her thrusts as they continue. They both won’t last much longer and they know it.

“‘M getting close.”

“I know,” Harry pants beneath her.

She switches positions, now with her fingers digging so hard into the meat of Harry’s thighs that her knuckles are changing color. She’s able to lift her hips up and down a bit more from this angle, and it allows Harry’s cock to nudge against her sweet spot.

“Feels so good, H,” she whimpers so quietly that almost Harry couldn’t even hear it.

“‘S that it? Right there?” he mocks as he works at meeting her thrusts with his own.

The best he gets from Y/N is a nod as she focuses the best she can on getting herself there. She’s coating him with her juices with each pump and with one glance down at where they’re joined together nearly shoots Harry over the edge.

“Yeh gonna cum f’ me?” Harry asks as his thumb reaches under her to begin rubbing circles on her clit.

“Gonna give me a good one?”

His movements coupled with his words catalyze the tightness within her, threatening to snap at any moment. She’s definitely sweaty and tired of being on top, but she’s so close now that she wills away the pain in her lower back and thighs.

“Come on, bunny. Give it to me.”

He works with that he can and makes sure he’s slamming into her as deep as he can, speeding up the pace he’s making with her clit in the process.

She cums with a strangled, “Fuck,” and a shrill cry of his name, and that’s all he needs to meet his end as well. The world is black and quiet for the two of them for just a brief moment, and then they’re both seeing all of the stars in the galaxy.

Her walls are coated with the warm ropes of his seed and spills out of her as she milks him, coaxing all she can out of both hers and Harry’s orgasms. Y/N can feel the last few twitches of Harry’s cock inside of her and her movements slow to a stop.

His cum is splashed along her inner thighs and around Harry’s shaft, and they’re both struggling to catch their breath. Y/N feels sorry for him for a brief second when she sees him clutching onto the left side of his ribs, but then she remembers the situation that put him there in the first place and great incredible fuck she just gave him and so she decides not to dwell on it too much.

Serves him right.

She collapses on the bed beside him, the two of them staring idly at the ceiling. It’s nearly dark now, the sun having set long ago and only their silhouettes are visible in the moonlight. Harry reaches over to pet her cheek and press a kiss into her hair as their breathing slowly but surely evens out and they come to.

They’re both too tired and fucked out to have a lucid conversation, so they’ll save that for tomorrow. No. Right now was for cuddles and falling asleep to the sounds of each other’s soft breaths and the peace of mind knowing that they can do this every single night for the rest of their lives if they wanted to because they’re getting married and they have a family together and they’re so in love with each other that nothing else matters.

When Y/N finally manages to muster up the energy to lift herself from the mattress and waddle to the bathroom, Harry breaks the silence.

“Hey,” his voice is calm and collected and there’s a smirk on his face.

“Hmm?” she answers as she cranes her neck and braces herself on the door frame of the master bathroom.

Her other hand is caressing her bump, a tick that she’d picked up over the months whenever she wasn’t doing anything important.

“Sit on m’ face in the morning?”

There’s that laugh again. The one that Harry loves and swears came straight from the angels above.

“With pleasure,” she winks as the door closes behind her.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #dad!harry x reader #dad!harry styles #dad!harry #dad!harry styles x reader #dad!harry x pregnant!reader #harry styles x pregnant!reader

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dancingamongstdust · 3 years ago

Text

Creepypasta Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 3)

I’ve opened requests now, if anybody is interested. Here’s the post:

Requests

Lost Silver

As stupid as it sounds, the game didn’t scare you.

It had started as a joke, something passed around your friend group after it had been discovered. The cartridge was just a janky version of a Pokémon game that was apparently spooky and so, everybody had taken turns messing around with it. They all said creepy things started happening but nothing too bad.

When it was your turn, you had been fully expecting something out of a horror movie. Instead, you had gotten a game that just had audio cut offs and weird notes warning you to stay out. It wasn’t all together scary.

You mentioned this to the next person you gave the game to in your friend group and they had laughed, saying it would probably ring true for them also.

But for some reason, your ally didn’t manifest.

Less than two days later, they practically threw the game at the rest of you and ran away sprouting things about curses. After that, the appeal of playing it kind of went away.

Nobody wanted to buy it and apparently throwing it out wasn’t a suggestion. So you ended up getting it.

Curiosity soon got the better of you and you booted up the game again, really sure that it would do something absolutely crazy but it never did. It ran like it always had with only that one file being completed.

So you deleted the file.

And nothing happened.

The next day, when you booted up the game, the file had simply returned as though you hadn’t deleted it in the first place. A similar thing occurred the next time. And the next.

Eventually you gave up and just started your own game. There, everything ran like it was meant to and you were beginning to think that your friends had all been imagining stuff. Maybe their paranoid got to them or something like that?

But eventually, the nightmares started. And they were bad.

You couldn’t remember exactly what happened during them. They were a swirling mess of games and glitches, horrible things spelled out in letters and blood covering everything. You would always wake up right when they seemed to be coming to a pivotal point. You’d find yourself dragged into a graveyard and then you’d wake up screaming

It was awful. You hardly got any sleep during them and they seemed to haunt you every night, keeping you up until the early hours of the morning.

But the worst only came when you didn’t wake up.

When you were dragged to the grave and looked down to see the ellipsis where the name should be. A punch to the gut that reminded you of what the game file was called. A confirmation of what was causing this dream.

You stared at it for ages before your eyes drifted up and you met his gaze. He was covered in blood, it leaked from every orifice and limb. It stained his dirty clothing even worse.

While you were staring, the world seemed to distort even though he didn’t. The game world melted away and your bedroom slowly reappeared.

It wasn’t until you saw car headlights move past your window – casting awful shadows across the room – that you realised you were no longer dreaming. He wasn’t a figment of your imagination.

The temperature in the room plummeted and you began to slowly reach for a weapon of some kind. He turned to look at what you were watching. His head tilted to the side and a glitch raced across his body before he vanished into thin air. Flicking on the lights didn’t show him hiding or cowering.

Perhaps your friends weren’t crazy after all.

Masky

“You know, if we had been a little more patient, none of this would have happened,” your sibling lectured. “We could be relaxing inside the car without having to worry about a bloody flash flood coming down from the sky.”

You shoved their back, forcing them to stumble a little as they went through the door. “Chances are the river’s going to burst its banks anyway. We would have been stuck in traffic for hours because the bridge is blocked off.”

“At least we would have been dry,” they muttered, running their fingers through their hair. “And not trapped inside an abandoned building.”

You rolled your eyes and made your way over the rubble to settle down on a camping chair. “Don’t even start. This place has been a hangout for my friends and I for ages. There’s never been a single problem bigger than a few spiders.”

“Till a landlord shows up,” they scoffed.

“Then we’ll move to the forest,” you joked. “I’m sure there’s a good bear cave we can use.”

“I’m going to be an only child,” they said, rolling their eyes. Still, they made their way over and sat. “How long do you think we have until the storm dies down?”

You relaxed back into the chair and smiled up at the asbestos-filled ceiling. “From the sound of it, a while.”

It wouldn’t have been the first time you had taken a nap in the building. You were scared of giant cockroaches coming to eat you once. You had gotten used to it since then but this time when you woke up, you were uneasy.

Glancing around, nothing was out of the ordinary. Your sibling was snoring in the chair next to you and outside the rain was pounding the roof.

You sat upright. Sometimes was definitely wrong.

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you got up from the chair and began walking as quietly as you could through the house. It had always been tiny and practically void of furniture, but the few rooms provided ample hiding spots.

Nothing but rubble was in most of the rooms but, in what you presumed had once been a bathroom, you found a person.

He had his back to you but when you pushed the door open to peer in, he spun around, his hand flying to his side. He was wearing a white mask, dark features etched onto it, and an orange jacket. A dark stain ran up the right side of it, emanating from under his hand. The oddness of his clothing made you immediately back away from the door, finger twitching on your cell phone in case you needed to call for help.

The two of you stared at each other in silence.

You were lost about what to say or do. The stain on his jacket was spreading and the more you stared at it, the more you became convinced it was blood. “Are you okay?” you finally managed to ask.

It took him a while to respond but then he nodded. The mask was unnerving you. You didn’t like not being able to see a person’s facial expressions.

“I don’t mean to pry or anything, but it really looks like you’re bleeding,” you said. “And quite badly. I can call for an ambulance or something although…” you turned your attention to the window behind his head. “I’m not sure they’ll be able to get anywhere with this weather.”

He stepped backward. “I’m fine,” he said, so soft you barely caught it. “I thought this place was abandoned.”

“It normally is,” you answered. “But we had to avoid the storm. I’m guessing that’s why you’re here also?”

“Yes,” he responded.

You waited or him to say something more, but all you got was silence. He had moved further away and now he had his back against the window. Part of you wanted to turn around and go back to your sibling but you were unsure about turning your back on the strange man.

The mask made you scared he could stab you or something.

Somebody calling your name made you turn your head on instinct. Your sibling must have woken up and realised you were missing.

Quickly, you turned back to the man, but he had disappeared. Rain spat through the now open window.

Nurse Ann

Everybody always warned you about exploring old buildings. They would yell about how many things could injure or kill you. Stray animals, drug addicts, old equipment, and all that. You had heard just about every warning imaginable. Ghosts were pretty commonly mentioned also.

But killer nurse was a new one.

“Come on, just give me a little more information,” you nagged. “I’m going there whether you’re with me or not so you may as well just tell me what you’ve heard.”

Your friend (and partner in crime for most ventures) groaned. “It’s not much. They just say that she guards the place and if you get too close, she’ll run you off with a chainsaw. Some people have died from injuries they got while there. Let’s just give this one a miss, alright?”

But you were not in agreement at all.

“Maybe she’s cute though,” you teased.

They didn’t find that funny and you didn’t push them to come with you. So later that evening, you snuck in by yourself.

The hospital was old with crumbling walls and smashed windows. It was hidden from the public by means of a tall barbed-wire fence and a substantial distance of open garden. Nothing too extreme for you and definitely worth the potential items you’d find inside. When hospitals went under, they often left tons of awesome stuff just scattered around.

You’d never sold anything you found in your abandoned building dives. They were more collectables than anything else but they meant quite a bit to you.

There weren’t any signs of crazy nurses as you approached the place. Nobody came running at you with a chainsaw at least. You didn’t even find evidence of squatters who could sometimes pose some danger.

After deciding it was safe enough, you lifted yourself through one of the windows and began to explore.

Honestly, it was creepy. Everything was way too old to be worth collecting and there were too many unidentifiable stains for your liking. The water damage was bad. It looked like the ceiling was there for aesthetics only and several rooms creaked too much for you to comfortably cross them.

And that was even without the awkward feeling of being watched.

You told yourself that it was just superstition but you couldn’t shake it. Every few seconds saw you looking over your shoulder in anticipation. It distracted you from keeping your eye on the path in front of you and the loud crack reached your ears too late.

The floor gave out and you fell through. Your shoulder hit some kind of metal object as you landed in the room below. Painful shocks ripped through your body and your head knocked against the floor with a heavy thud.

Stars danced in front of your vision and you raised your hand to the top of your head. Blood coated your hand when you lowered it to look.

Shit.

Shakily, you tried to pull yourself up but quickly found that your arm was too sore. Instead, you pulled your phone from your pocket and sent off the emergency text to your friend.

The world faded to black not long after that.

When you woke up next, you were in your room with a bandage wrapped around your head. You had felt like absolute crap but still gotten up to thank them for the save. They had nodded and warned you to be more careful, happy that you had been outside the hospital so they didn’t have to look for too long.

Before you could even think about how you had crawled there, they asked how you had managed to do your own stitches so nicely.

Puppeteer

Your camera was on 10% battery.

Grumbling, you shoved it into your bag and cursed your past self for forgetting to put it on charge. In order to get the best sunrise photos, you had found yourself waking up earlier and earlier. It was tiring but it was worth it… most of the time.

You just hoped that at least one of your pictures was usable but you could only check on them once you got home.

The streetlight above your head flickered as you walked past. It wasn’t unusual but when you were the only person awake for miles around, it was awfully creepy.

Putting your hands into your jacket pockets, you continued strolling back home. The neighborhood had never been dangerous and despite living in the area for your entire life, no incidents made you want to stop walking around at night.

Deciding that you wanted to take a precautionary shot, you headed for your neighbour’s house first. They had an arch covered in jasmine flowers that made for some perfectly safe photos and they never minded your presence.

After making your way there and getting a few photos, you were treated to the fright of your life when their began howling and barking. It wasn’t aimed at you but you didn’t like the noise regardless.

As you rounded the corner of the house, planning on racing back to your own home, you encountered the dog’s target.

A man – cloaked in the darkness and barely illuminated by the streetlight – opening one of the windows with ease. Irritated by the dog, he didn’t notice you until your finger twitched around the shutter of your camera. There was a flash.

His head snapped up and you screamed.

The man’s complexation was literally grey. He wasn’t just ill, he was the colour of storm clouds. Golden eyes with no pupils glared at you and froze you in place. Whatever he was, this man was the furthest thing from human.

Your scream woke your neighbors. The sound of movement began coming from inside the house.

He abandoned the window, stalking towards you. The air tingled like it was expecting a lightning storm. Golden tendrils grew from his fingertips and shot towards you. They had you pinned in an instant.

You struggled against them and opened your mouth to scream again but they wrapped around your head, forcing your jaw shut.

This was how you died… tears spilled down your cheeks at the realization. You were going to be an unsolved murder. All you hoped was you got a good picture of him.

Your neighbor’s front door opened and great dane let out an ear-splitting bark as he raced toward you.

The man, or creature, or monster, or whatever he was, released you to face the dog. He let it approach before vanishing into a cloud of smoke as its jaws reached him.

“What was that?” the timid voice brought you back into reality.

“It was trying to get into your house,” you said. “I screamed when I saw it and then it grabbed me.” Your voice changed to a whimper as reality hit you. You nearly died.

The small child of the house came over to hug your leg. “I’m sure Puppet didn’t mean to scare you,” she said. “He always comes to visit but he doesn’t like it when people make noise. You shouldn’t scream when you see him again.”

You made eye-contact with the parents and they wore expressions of horror at their daughter’s words.

“Puppet?” you asked in a small voice.

She nodded rapidly. “He says he stops by because he likes watching people. I think that he’s watching us all right now! But he can hide in the shadows too well.”

“I’m going to go and call the police,” somebody said.

You weren’t all too focused. The feeling of being watched grew heavier and you clutched tightly at the camera in your hands.

Slenderman

You couldn’t tell if they were being serious. You hoped that they were joking. They weren’t genuinely going to…

“No,” you stated.

The two younger children both turned to look at you simultaneously. Guilt flashed across their faces as though they weren’t aware you were listening. It was as though you were asked to babysit them because you didn’t pay attention. These two should have realised that by now.

“Do you think all the stories are true?” the boy asked. “I think that they are. One of my friends said she saw a huge dog in the forest and then it ran away after eating a whole cow!”

“No way!” his twin sister shouted. “Dogs don’t eat cows, so it can’t be true!”

You put on your best intimidating expression and crossed your arms. “I don’t care if they’re true or not. There is absolutely no chance that either of you are going to go running off into the woods with bears, wolves and all kinds of other creatures.”

The two children glanced at each other and bolted for the tree line before you could grab their shirts.

Thankfully your legs were longer even if they had a head start and you managed to catch up pretty quickly. Once you caught the boy and picked him up with ease, the girl dashed behind a tree.

“Can we please just leave?” you asked nicely. “If we forget about the forest adventure thing, I promise I won’t tell your parents and I’ll get you ice cream.”

The boy was trying his hardest to get out of your hold. You were starting to think babysitting didn’t pay enough.

“I don’t want ice cream,” the girl said. “I want to go and find a unicorn.”

She darted off into the forest and you let out a deep groan. Shifting the boy’s weight over your one hip, you started walking after her. If you wanted to give chase via running, you would have to put the kid down and trust him to follow or stay.

It was obvious that wasn’t happening.

It didn’t take you too long to find the girl. Mostly because she had stopped in the middle of a weird grove in the trees. She was just staring off into the dark shadows beyond it.

As you approached her, static popped in your ears. You shook your head in an effort to displace it but the closer you got, the louder it became.

The child in your arms whimpered, clutching his head.

You softly called her name and then it appeared. It was a man-like monster, standing just in the shadows of the trees. Easily over 7ft tall and insanely thin with no facial features. Your heart jumped into your throat and your stomach tied itself into a knot.

Without taking your eyes off it, you reached out a hand and fumbled around until you grabbed the girl’s shirt.

The static was getting louder and louder. You tried to shut it out as you started moving backwards, tugging the child along after you. She wasn’t willing to move her legs. She was entranced but whether by fear or magic, you couldn’t tell.

And then it was much closer.

You stumbled in fright, letting go of the girl’s shirt and landing on your ass. The boy fell on top of you but scrambled away and hide in the bushes within the blink of an eye. You sent a silent prayer to him to run back home to the other adults.

Once again, the creature was stationary but now the static was growing to such a volume that you could imagine your ears were starting to bleed.

You reached out for the girl again slowly, but something wrapped around your leg and yanked you into the air.

It took almost a full second for you to realise that the screaming ringing in your ears was you. Whatever was holding you tightened and whipped your body through the air. It was like your leg was being ripped away.

Then you were falling.

It was some feat of luck that you managed to twist your body, so you didn’t land on your head. You lay there for a while before something poking your back made you unbury your face.

The twins were staring at you with wide eyes and the monster was nowhere in sight.

“What was –“ you couldn’t finish.

“Slenderman,” they said in perfect sync.

Splendorman

Another stop…

You couldn’t help yourself. Every time you walked past one of the posters fluttering lightly in the wind you had to stop and stare at it.

A few days ago, your dog, your beautiful and sweet puppy, had disappeared from your house without a trace. The missing posters were depressing reminders that he wasn’t home. It hadn’t taken long for your mind to spiral into the negative thoughts about how close the road was.

Damn your coworkers. One of the had suggested the road in the first place and while they hadn’t intended anything malicious, it was definitely not helping your fears.

The dog had been with you through thick and through thin… if it was dead, you may as well have lost a close family member.

Hanging your head, you dragged your eyes away from the poster and kept walking.

People bumped into you, but it was your fault. You refused to look up in case another poster distracted you. Getting home before the sun set was your only focus now.

You had tried going out and searching in all the places where your dog once spent time to no avail. Always willing to try again, you chose to drop off your bags and head out later that evening when you ran out of distractions.

As you walked through the gates in front of your house, a gust of air gently messed up your hair. A gust of wind suspiciously similar to a laugh.

Your logical mind told you it came from the street, but something made you stop in your tracks.

The walls around your property towered. There’s no possibility that somebody could be in your garden. To try and scale one of the walls, they would have been in full view of your neighbours who would have undoubtedly called the cops.

“You’re sad,” the wind whispered before you could brush off your suspicion.

Spinning wildly, you searched around for the source. You backed up until your entrance gate was behind you. You could run down to the main street with ease if you could just get your fumbling fingers to unlock things.

“Don’t run,” the wind said, this time blowing from a separate direction. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to know why you’re upset.”

Is this what going insane was? Nobody around and the wind was talking to you. You had always feared losing your mind and now it was happening.

“I’m real,” the wind said. “I’m hiding because I’ll scare you if you see me.”

“I’m going mad,” you muttered, shaking your head. “If this is somebody pulling a prank on me I swear….”

The wind quietened for a bit and then it picked up again, ruffling your hair as it spoke. “If I show myself, it’ll prove that you’re not going crazy, but I don’t want to make it worse by frightening you… you’re so sad already.”

“I lost my best friend and people have been telling me he’s most likely dead,” you hissed. “Obviously I’m not in the best mood. Now I’m losing my fucking mind and talking to air.”

The atmosphere around you dropped, like it does moments before lightning strikes. You glanced at the sky in confusion. As expected, no clouds in sight.

You lowered your gaze and a 7ft tall creature covered in bright polka dots stood in front of your house.

Once you screamed, it disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” the wind said. “I knew I would scare you, but I had hoped it would show you that I’m not imaginary. I’m just trying to help.”

The gate finally opened behind you and you stumbled backwards through it, your heart sitting in your throat. A monster was in your house and it was probably going to kill you. Spinning on your heel, you took off full speed back towards the main street.

You were fully expecting it to give chase now that you hadn’t fallen for its claims of harmlessness but it didn’t.

Instead you reached the main road and only got a few strange looks because of how much you were shaking. Nothing followed you.

The wind picked up once more. “I’ll try and help,” it promised.

People walking around you should have heard it as well but none of them so much as blinked.

Ticci Toby

While you had been told that a noise limit for the forest existed, your laughter refused to cooperate. It rang through the trees and probably chased off all the animals nearby. A picnic out in a national forest was a fantastic way to reconcile with nature and to scare it all away.

With eleven people in your picnic party, chances of any creatures coming into view were already slim though so you didn’t worry too much.

“We didn’t bring nearly enough fruit,” you muttered as you dug in the basket.

“Excuse you, I brought a whole watermelon but you ate it,” somebody answered your grumble. “If you want fruit, it is spring. Go and forage for some berries.”

You snorted. “Yeah, right. I’m going to go out by myself in the middle of the one season where bears are irritable as fuck. I know I sometimes act a little impulsively, but I don’t exactly have a wish to die at the claws of a grumpy teddy.”

Your friend leaned towards you. “Is that so? What if we split into teams and made a bet? Loser has to take a dip in the river.”

“A bet?” you asked. “I’m interested.”

She grinned and snapped her fingers. “Okay, there are eleven people so I’m feeling groups of two with one impartial party as a judge. We should be fine if we make enough noise and stick within close vicinity to each other. See how many berries we can gather?”

Tipping out the picnic basket’s contents, you smirked and pushed it into her chest. “Oh, I hope you brought a swimming costume.”

Everybody teamed up with ease and grabbed one of the many containers lying on the blanket. You headed out with your partner and gave a wink to the other teams. All you needed was to find one good bush first and you had it won.

“We should split up,” your partner said. “Cover more ground.”

You nodded. “We meet up back here once we’ve found a good bush,” you agreed. “And we shout if we find any animals.”

Obviously, your plans hadn’t involved losing your footing almost directly after the two of you split.

Tumbling down the small hill, you tried your hardest to protect yourself from the bushes as you went through them. At some point, you lost your basket and by the time you had finally rolled to a stop, you had no idea where it was.

Grumbling, you stood up and started searching until something dark caught your eye. Thinking it was your basket, you made your way over.

The clearing you walked into housed a scene you could never have imagined.

A dead bear lay slumped against a tree, its fur being what had caught your eye earlier. A hatchet buried in its neck was spilling blood onto the floor around it. All that hardly compared to the man leaning against a tree.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed. “Are you alright?”

His head immediately snapped up, allowing you to see that he was wearing a mouth guard and a pair of goggles. Blood seeped from between his fingers where they clutched against his chest, but he hardly noticed. A hatchet was hanging from his belt.

Suddenly, you were wishing you had kept your mouth shut.

He stared at you blankly for a while, an occasional twitch minorly affecting his body. Reaching up, he took off his mouthguard. “I can’t feel any pain,” he said. “So, I’m fine. Why are y-you out here? The hiking trail is far.” He struggled with one of the words, seeming to hiccup a little on it.

“I was searching for berries and I slipped down a hill,” you answered. “Are you sure you’re okay? It looks like you got into a fight with a bear. Your shirt is all bloody.”

“I did fight a bear,” he laughed, gesturing to it. “I won.”

Your eyes grew wider. “I think you should get to a hospital. What’s your name? I can call somebody for you and we’ll get you medical attention.”

“Toby,” he said. “That’s my name. What’s yours?”

You gave him your full name and pulled out your phone. “My friends are close by,” you said. “Don’t worry, they’ll be here to help soon.”

When you raised your attention from your phone, he had disappeared and so had the hatchet from the bear’s neck.

Trenderman

Work was hard. It made your feet ache, it made your back click and crack, and it felt like the problems would never end.

Would you give up working in the fashion industry? Not a chance.

Your boss walked past where you were calming down an irate customer over the phone and dropped the keys to the front of the building in front of you. “Close up for me,” she mouthed as she left.

Nodding, you moved them to the side of the desk where they couldn’t be lost.

Once you had finished calming the customer, you glanced around to check how many people were left in the room. Three still working and one in the process of leaving. You were technically going into overtime at this point, but you didn’t mind.

There was a reason you were promoted so quickly.

“We need to set up cameras!” one of the floor managers snapped, storming into the office. She marched straight over to your desk and glowered at you. “I put this request in a week ago.”

Scrolling through the documents, you quickly opened the file. “I see but it looks like it’s been bumped due to a shipment malfunction, I’ll flag it. What’s the problem?”

“Customers or members of staff are moving items around and throwing things out without warning. We need to catch the culprits!” she snapped.

“What has been thrown out?” you asked. “I’ll add it into the information.”

The woman started listing quicker than you could type. “I’ve found crocs, toeless thigh-high boots, bellbottomed jeans, coloured faux fur jackets, luminous lipstick, w-necks, and jeggings all in vast numbers in the trash can. Every time I put them out on shelves, they disappear again.”

It took everything in you not to snort. “I’ll mark this vital.”

She stalked off and you went back to inputting the shipping requirements. You were meant to be organising what was coming in for the latest line and subtly omitting anything that wouldn’t sell well enough.

Slowly but surely, your co-workers trickled out of the office after finishing off their daily tasks. You kept going, trying to make sure you could have a longer break the next day.

Finally, when the sun had already set, you relented and started getting ready to go home.

You sung as you finished packing up for the day. Being the last one in the building (thus having to lock up) made you a little more confident as you danced around getting everything together. You slung your bag over your shoulder and happily trotted over to the door.

It made you so happy that your boss entrusted you to be the last one around. She was so hyper-protective of company secrets that you were proud of yourself for winning her over.

Your talent with people was something you attributed to dealing with painful customers.

As you passed through the store-part of the business you stopped to rearrange a mannequin. Every morning when you came in, you always noticed something had been changed with this specific one. You figured you could move something small and see if it would be a good place to set up a hidden camera.

Though you weren’t expecting it to suddenly grab your arm.

“You may be one of the few workers here with good taste, but I advise you don’t try and change my outfit,” it said. It didn’t have a mouth, but the words rang in your head, nevertheless.

You screamed and pulled away, tearing your arm from its grip. Shelves were knocked over and clothing was sent flying as you tried to escape.

The mannequin just watched you as you fumbled madly for the door.

The glass rattled in the frame from how hard you slammed it shut behind you. You sped off down the street, moving faster than you ever had before. You collapsed on your lawn by the time you reached the house, taking deep breaths.

Nothing had followed you. Everything was okay.

With shaking fingers, you dialed your boss’ number and told her you would be taking a sick day. There wasn’t a chance in hell you were going anywhere near there again.

Not to mention the mess you made… you were definitely getting fired.

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #slenderman #splendorman #trenderman #ticci toby #nurse ann #masky #cp masky #marble hornets #lost silver #puppeteer #x reader

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samstree · 3 years ago

Text

Hug a Witcher Day (3/4)

In which Jaskier goes missing in the spring. Can Geralt finally realize his feelings for the bard in the middle of a crisis?

(hurt/comfort, soft geraskier, 3k, rated T, cw: mentions of a canon-era plague, sick children, and a citywide lockdown.)

part 1, part 2, read on AO3

The third year since Jaskier invented Hug a Witcher Day, Geralt all but forgets about it completely.

He steps into the Two Weatherfish, where they agreed to meet, and realizes that the bard isn’t here. Or in the entire city of Ard Carraigh. No one has seen any trace of the famous bard who won’t quit singing praises for witchers.

Geralt pushes down the slight panic in his chest as he steps out of the last tavern in the city, and decides to just head for Oxenfurt.

It’s not like Jaskier has been the most reliable companion in the past, often distracted by dalliances or even anything shiny and new. One time he wandered off to watch a local celebration and Geralt found him hours later next to a lake, with thousands of lanterns floating above the water, illuminating the night sky like burning stars peppered on a dark canvas.

The soft, orange light spilled over Jaskier’s features, his eyes gleaming like the stars too.

Geralt snorts despite himself. There’s no doubt the bard is just delayed by someone who caught his eye and decided that a promise to a witcher isn’t all that important—the same witcher who he keeps claiming to be his best friend.

Geralt isn’t sure how to feel about that, or how to react when he finally sees Jaskier. Perhaps he will cease to talk about hunts for a while, leave the bard hanging, just so he can get a taste of the same frustration.

The pettiness remains in Geralt’s mind up until he steps into the academy and rampant fear licks up his chest.

Essi is the one who meets him at the gates, worry deep between her brows and rambling about how Jaskier never made it to the yule ball like he should. In her hands are two letters, clearly Jaskier’s handiwork judging from the neat curves and flourish, talking about his excitement to see his ‘Little Eye’ perform again, and how unfortunately his travel would be delayed due to an unexpected ailment.

Don’t you fret, poppet, for I am sure to beat this sickness within days. The promise of listening to your new ballad is already doing wonders for my health! It is a shame that my stay in Vizima is soured thus. The city, so beautifully rich in culture…

“Vizima,” Essi says frantically. “A plague broke out in the city last winter. Smallpox.”

A buzz begins to ring by Geralt’s ear, muffling out Essi’s voice and leaving only the thundering of his own heartbeat.

“They told me King Foltest sealed the gate to stop the spread, and…and no one has heard from anyone inside since then. Geralt, please, you are a witcher. Aren’t you immune to human sickness? That’s what Jaskier told me, isn’t that right?”

“I…yes.” The lump in Geralt’s throat stops any other words from getting out. His blood runs cold in the warm breeze of Oxenfurt’s spring.

“Please, Geralt, you must find him. I need to know. The university won’t allow me to go, but I…I must know. No matter what happened to him.”

The implication hangs in the air.

Tears well up in blues eyes too similar to Jaskier’s. Essi would be my sister in another life, Jaskier once commented adoringly and it’s only standing right here that Geralt can truly see the identical fierceness in her eyes.

As if Geralt needs her to ask. As if he isn’t willing to charge into the land of the dead if it means Jaskier gets out of it unscathed.

“Of course, Essi,” he promises solemnly. Her clutch on his forearm is so tight that any other man would be bruised by the force. “I promise.”

“Keep him safe, if it’s not too late.”

In his near-century long life, Geralt has rarely felt cold, unrelenting fear as he does when Essi breaks into sobs.

The sickness in Vizima casts a gloomy cloud over the sky, choking Geralt’s breaths. The streets are eerily empty. Only a few people will pass through in a frenzy every now and then.

Geralt’s legs take him right through the main streets, to the far corner of the city, where countless makeshift tents are set up and stretching towards the edge of the woods. If anyone has indeed fallen to the disease, that’s the most likely place they will be sent to. If anyone passes, that’s also where they keep the records so friends and families can look for their names.

Bile rises in his throat at the idea of looking through stacks of books for Jaskier’s name.

Geralt walks between hundreds of beds of one tent after another. Some healers throw him an odd look but carry on with their work, the flash of their white scrubs weaving through the busy establishment.

Against all odds, a pang of relief hits Geralt when he notices how the patients are well-treated by healers who seem to know what they are doing. The fever is brought down with a soaked cloth and a minty salve is applied for the irritation on the skin.

He searches and searches, until the sun is almost down, when—

A soft tune is carried over by the gentle breeze of spring.

And there Jaskier is, kneeling next to a little boy on a bed and humming a lullaby that Geralt only remembers vaguely. The bard is wearing the same white scrub like every carer at this camp, his brown hair slightly ruffled, and dark circles are hanging under his eyes. Geralt can see how tired he is by the hunch of his shoulders and the barely-there quiver in his singing, by his unkept stubble and the smile that’s dangerously close to falling.

And yet, he makes the most beautiful sight in the world.

Geralt stands there, drinking in the presence of his bard. The languid heartbeat of a witcher picks up, fluttering and almost bursting out of his chest.

Jaskier runs his fingers through the boy’s hair when the lullaby comes to an end. He tucks in the blanket and slowly pulls himself up, his knees creaking from the strain.

Blue eyes meet Geralt and Jaskier’s shock morphs into unbridled, blazing joy. Within the blink of an eye, the bard is standing right in front of Geralt.

“Geralt,” Jaskier breathes oh so carefully like he’s scared of waking from a dream. “What are you doing here? Wait, you don’t have any protec—oh right! Witcher biology. Can’t catch anything from us.” The bard lets out a sigh and his shoulders drop in relief. “How did you get through the gate? Punched another guard, didn’t—”

“You are okay,” Geralt says, dumbly.

“I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” Jaskier frowns. “Geralt, why did you come to Vizima in the middle of a plague? Not that I’m complaining about seeing you, but how exactly did you find me?”

Geralt doesn’t want to look away from Jaskier’s face—ideally for a long time to come, but he needs to rummage through his pack for the crumpled letters.

“You sent these to Essi last winter.”

Jaskier takes the letters, flattens the frayed edges before reading his own words.

“Yes, I did tell her…” Cold horror takes Jaskier aback. “Shit. She must think—Oh, Geralt, that wasn’t it! I only caught a stomach bug. It was never the pox! But then…they locked the city gate so fast and everything was in chaos for weeks. I couldn’t get more letters out. Oh, I wish I could take it back! I didn’t think—”

“You damn well didn’t.”

The words come out a lot harsher than Geralt intended, and Jaskier flinches back. Geralt pinches at the bridge of his nose, feeling contrite at his untimely outburst.

“No, Jask—I’m not…” he heaves out a sigh. “She didn’t even know if you were alive for months.”

Neither did I.

“I’m so sorry.” Jaskier is close to tears. “She must be worried sick.”

“She is.”

I was.

“And you too, Geralt. Please forgive me.” Jaskier’s chin wobbles, his arms hovering between the two of them as if he wants to put them around Geralt. “I want to ask you not to be cross with me again, but that seems to be all I do.”

“Jaskier…”

Geralt calls out when he finds not even an ounce of anger in his heart, not when he just spent weeks fearing the worst, not when Jaskier is standing right in front of him, safe and hale, his eyes flowing with guilt.

Jaskier might just be the death of him.

“Fuck. Just don’t pull this again.” Geralt softens his tone, knowing how unfair the request is when such things are out of Jaskier’s control, but the bard replies in earnest.

“I won’t. I swear.”

Exhaustion washes over the bard once again, making him look a lot older than he is. From the looks of it, Jaskier has been working in these camps for months and the last thing he needs is an unsupportive friend.

And Geralt doesn’t intend to become one.

“And you are dressed like this because?” Geralt nudges Jaskier in the shoulder to ease the apprehension on his face.

“Funny you should ask.” The bard presses his lips into a thin line before continuing. “I may have lied—nay, implied—that the seven degrees I acquired at Oxenfurt included…medicine. Hold on! Before you judge, I do know how to care for pox patients. I caught it as a child too and that’s why I’ve been fine this whole time.”

“Hmm. But you don’t have the—”

“The scars. No thanks to my grandmother’s secret healing salve that she insisted on keeping secret. It worked like a charm back then, almost like magic. We’ve been trying to replicate from whatever I remember. The mint is helping a little but something is still missing. Oh, well.” The bard rubs his fingers at the hem of his scrub. “Perhaps that explains all these crazy rumors about her heritage, with all her herbs and teas that always miraculously cured everybody. Honestly, I don’t even blame them.”

Geralt muses the possibility of Jaskier’s grandmother not being completely human and makes a silent decision to unpack it later.

“Then I guess your personal experience should come in handy if we are going to stay here for a while.”

“We? You are staying?”

“The exits are still closed.” Geralt tilts his head in nonchalance. “Might as well lend them a hand.”

And never take his eyes off of Jaskier again.

“That’s…wonderful, in a terrible, terrible way. Being trapped in the same place during a plague. Gods, that sounds like something out of the cheesiest romance novel.” Jaskier gasps as soon as the words are out. The smile on his face blossoms into a heated blush.

“Just promise me one thing, Jask.”

“What?” The cornflower blue eyes uncharacteristically avoid Geralt in a vain attempt to hide how flustered he is.

Don’t scare me like this again.

Don’t get taken from me.

Don’t leave me.

“Read less romance novels. Once this blows over,” Geralt answers, finally.

The fluttering in his chest returns, although this time for a completely different reason. The reason not being how adorable Jaskier looks embarrassed and rosy-cheeked.

No. Definitely not.

“Little Simon asleep?”

Geralt asks as he stokes the fire, watching Jaskier struggle out of the sweat-soaked scrub and throw it into the laundry pile. The bard sits down next to him on the log with a groan and leans into his arm.

“As flattered as I am that he can’t fall asleep without my songs, it does get a bit taxing to sing every night while kneeling on the floor.”

“The kid is sick. Can’t blame him for having bad taste in music.”

The jab would have landed better if he isn’t wrapping his arm around Jaskier so that he can rest his head on Geralt’s shoulder. The days are too long even with most of the patients released home, and it’s been taking a toll on Jaskier.

“Cruel to me when I’m down, huh?”

Under Geralt’s palm, it’s unmistakable that Jaskier’s arm isn’t as thick as it once was, and he really doesn’t want to think about how the sharp of Jaskier’s jaw is becoming more prominent by the day.

Geralt rubs gently up and down Jaskier’s bicep to draw a contented purr out of him.

“Hmm. Now you’re forgiven.” Jaskier nuzzles into the crook of Geralt’s neck so his muscles loosen under the ministration. “It’s so unfair that a shift never wears you out like the rest of us, my dear. So unfair that you don’t need as much food too. I’d kill for some witcher superpowers these days.”

“Trust me, you won’t like what they cost.”

The late summer heat, mixed with the smell of sweat in Jaskier’s hair, should make it extremely uncomfortable to be sitting so close, but Geralt only finds it calming to have Jaskier sagging against him.

Jaskier’s thinning shoulder is too worrisome. Geralt will have to leave him most of the dinner rations again. Excuses are so easy to find, once Geralt realized that Jaskier never questions what he’s told about witcher biology, trusting every word from Geralt’s mouth. It’s just a little lie, a little exaggeration.

The bard is rubbing off on him.

“Simon is among the last ones here,” Jaskier says tiredly into Geralt’s neck. “It will soon be over. They are saying everyone can go in a month or so.”

“We can go even now.”

The prospect of traveling again stirs up something hopeful under Geralt’s skin, prickling with excitement, but he knows more patience is required for now.

“Nah, I should at least see little Simon home. You were right that the boy has suffered enough. The fever is terrible. Even I still have nightmares about it after so many years. It’s excruciating, almost like death is trying to mock you. One moment a fire burns through your whole body, the next it swallows you whole into this…nothingness, cold and alone.”

Geralt tightens his hold and breathes in the melancholic scent emanating from Jaskier’s skin.

“It was my grandmother, again. She sang the same lullaby to me every night, kept me sane. It’s helping little Simon too.”

“It’s in elvish,” Geralt murmurs absently when Jaskier is close to drifting off. The bard’s leveled breathing fans over the collar of Geralt’s neck.

“…hmm?”

“Nothing. Maybe for later.”

Geralt’s fingers reach the side of Jaskier’s head and thread between the soft brown locks, keeping his drooping head in place for the nap. When he looks down to where Jaskier casually drapes over half of his body, the two of them almost melding into one, Geralt is suddenly hit with how much their relationship has changed over the past few years, and at the same time, how it feels completely natural like puzzles fitting into place.

This newfound intimacy should scare Geralt, but strangely, it doesn’t. Maybe it’s because the witcher has learned long ago to treasure his bard as a companion and friend, to protect him and care for him, even without ever admitting it out loud.

Maybe he should.

And what would he even say? Geralt is equally elated and stumped at the thought of the two of them growing into something more. If the fluttering in his chest is a result of loving Jaskier, the bard deserves to know, and he deserves the best words.

Geralt scoffs softly when he realizes that he’d kill for something completely opposite. Not the strength of a witcher, but the silver tongue of a bard, the ability to weave the most beautiful prose to describe what Jaskier means to him.

The summer cicadas are singing with renewed vigor, the sizzling sound disrupting his train of thought. For now, Geralt will need to content himself in simply being with Jaskier.

And, perhaps, in pressing a tiny kiss into his soft brown hair as well. Under the night sky, only the stars will know.

I didn't know plague doctor Jaskier could be a thing until I started writing this chapter, and the ending just had to make way for it. Sorry that the chapter count has gone up. I promise hugs are cuddles are on the way! <3

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @birdsflyhome @dapandapod @artisanbaguette

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #soft geralt #hug a witcher day #soft jaskier #cw: plague #guess this should be a warning #protective geralt #essi daven #jaskier sings to children

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pennyserenade · 4 years ago

Text

tags: nameless oc x javier peña, nameless oc x javier pena, angst rating: e ( explicit ) warnings: smut, language. word count: 3k+ summary: marriage requires sacrifice; theirs takes a little more than most notes: i definitely did steal the title of this chapter from the original scenes from a marriage and you know what? i’d do it again. anyways, thanks for reading and i hope you enjoy this installment! if you want to be tagged in this series, just shoot me a message or fill out my taglist form that’s available on my masterlist (pinned post). original gif by: @javierpcna

the art of sweeping things under the rug

scene two, scenes from a marriage

Wedding bands can vary in weight depending on the sort of week you’re having, she finds. Conveniently light, sometimes--nearly invisible, as if intertwined with oneself--and then, impossibly dense at others. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, she tells herself, but she’s on no throne, and there is no crown. It’s just her and Javi, and the elopement that tied them together.

The ‘70s had faded silently into the ‘80, and it’s easy to feel in love when the future looks promising. Well--maybe promising is too generous of a word for what they had felt then; perhaps uncertain is better. It wasn’t the sort of uncertain that fills one with dread either, the kind that leaves them in the dark with no flashlight. No, it was the uncertainty that felt good; the sort that made them think whatever was offered in the decade they’d not yet painted with plans was going to be great. It was promises of catching Pablo, promises of a promotion, promises of a proper marriage in the country they’d come to love in their own separate and shared ways. It was realists sharing one optimistic view in a world that seemed so void of them, and now, as she sits at the dinner table in her apartment, looking at the thin band on her finger, she wonders if they’d rushed into it

Her mother told her a mal tiempo, buena cara. In bad times, keep a good face. Just grin and bare it, wait for the uneasiness of the life they were living now to trickle into the marriage she anticipated, but she isn’t sure what sort of marriage she was anticipating. She had understood that there were going to be hardships, but she had welcomed them then because she thought they were going to be hardships they would endure together. They weren’t doing a very good job at the together.

It isn’t that she doesn’t love him. She has an unwavering love for him, but the absence of his being in her life has begun to create a festering wound in her heart. She’s torn between asking him to never leave again—to quit it all and stay wrapped in bed with her, pretending the horrors outside of their utopia didn’t exist—and saying nothing at all. Grinning and bearing.

He’s a good man. A great man, actually. He’s gentle, funny. A little too stressed for his own good most of the time, and a bit grumpy until he settles somewhere, but he’s exactly what she needs, and everything that could break her if he so wanted it, too. And she knows he never would want that, but she isn’t sure he knows he can either, because if he did, then he was tiptoeing dangerously close to that line.

Sighing, she shakes her head, dismissing it all.

The afternoon has begun to fade into the evening, and the cool summer wind blows a gentle breeze into her home. Javier said he wouldn’t be working late at the Embassy tonight, and she had told him she’d cook dinner, but the eagerness that had overtaken her then had been worn by the sight of his wedding band on her dresser. It was the thing that made hers seem so heavy. The thing that made her want to cry, really, and it was so silly, but she could not help the angry ball of frustration and confusion that formed at the sigh of it, or the way it had turned into the lump in her throat.

She yearns for the days when it was just fucking—the way they hadn’t exchanged anything personal so nothing could be personal. She misses the way he would call her, flustered, at all hours of the night and the way she’d always open her door for him, and they’d kiss passionately and fuck roughly and explore each other over and over.

But really, she doesn’t want that, either. She doesn’t know what she wants.

She hears the jangle of keys, hears the latch open, but she doesn’t turn to meet him. Instead, she’s lit a cigarette, and she’s staring out the window, looking at how the sun shadows the town. She puffs away at the cigarette and he says nothing when he enters. He just throws his keys on the counter and then moves quietly over to her, hands falling to her tense shoulders. She hates the way she leans into him too; how effortlessly the anger ebbs.

She looks up at him, and he smiles gently. He looks worn, as though he’s fighting something that she won’t learn until the early hours of the morning, when he’s spent from spent from sex and the general excitement that paints all of his days. Javi is interesting in that way—not emotionally stunted, but hesitant.

“You didn’t make dinner?” he asks while pushing her hair away from her neck, pressing his lips there quickly. He nuzzles against her for a beat, taking in her scent, feeling the warmth of her against him in gratitude. He is spent, and he’s wanted nothing more than to come here. Doesn’t even really care that she’s not made him dinner, just said it to hear her.

“I didn’t,” she responds, more softly than she likes. Her heart is tender for him, kind naturally because his being warrants it. She wants to yell, but she can’t because she loves him so goddamn much.

“S’okay,” he mumbles. Javi moves away from her, slipping off his jacket and sitting it on the chair. “We can order something later if you want.”

She nods, putting out the cigarette. “When do you have to go back in?”

“Six tomorrow morning. What about you?”

“I took tomorrow off.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “¿Por qué?”

“Because,” she shrugs. “Only so much depressing material you can write until it starts to wear you down.”

“You know I said—“

She cuts him off. “I don’t want to live off your paycheck. I know what you said but I’m happy doing what I do. Just—“ she pauses, struggling to think. “—not all of us can give our lives over to the cause all the time.”

She meant that, meant that entirely, and knows he feels it by the way his features settle into a look of pure nothingness. Stoned face, giving nothing. She’s sorry for it, but can’t say it. He doesn’t ask for her to.

“Cruelty doesn’t look so good on you, baby,” he tries to tease, but it comes out flat and serious. She bites at her lip, and turns her head to the window, back to the city, trying not to cry.

“Are you angry with me?”

He’s a good detective, isn’t he?

“Javi, I don’t want to fight.”

“You are angry with me.”

She sighs heavily. “No, I’m not.”

“You are, and I wish you’d just say why.”

“It doesn’t even matter, Javi,” she dismisses it with a simple shrug of her shoulders. “You’ve been at work all day and—“

“Is it because I work so much?” he interrupts.

“Goddamnit, Javier, I’m not fucking angry with you!” she shouts. Shouts like she is angry with him. Silence ensues and she wants to crawl in a hole and disappear completely.

“You left your wedding ring,” she admits quietly, half out of remorse, half because she can’t stand the way he’s looked down at the table and not looked back up. Or how he sits like he’s torn between fleeing and staying. “But it really doesn’t matter, and I don’t know why it bothers me so much because I know you...you don’t mean to hurt me.”

“No,” he shakes his head. He still does not look at her, focusing on a line in the table. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Javi, I said it didn’t matter.”

“But it does.” He finally looks up. “It matters if it makes you angry with me. I left it because I forgot, that’s all.”

“I said it doesn’t matter.”

“You never fucking fight me.”

“There’s no reason for it,” she replies.

“There is reason for it.”

“Javi, please. I don’t get you for very long and this is not how I want to spend it.”

“Stop doing that.”

“What?” Confusion paints her features.

“Running from it. Fight with me.”

“Why do you want to fight so fucking bad? When you’d turn into such a fucking masochist.”

She feels that lump in her throat again, feels the way it wants to give way and lets it all go the way he’s requesting. Fills the bitterness creep into her system the way she hates.

“I’m not a masochist,” he replies, “You’ve obviously got shit to say, so say it.”

“Fuck you, Javi,” she chokes, blinking back tears now. She definitely did not want this.

She gets up to move, but he grasps onto her wrist.

“Don’t run away,” he repeats. He’s angry too.

“Let me go,” she spits out spitefully. He has such a loose hold on her that she doesn’t even need his permission to escape from it, but it’s the concept more than anything. He does let go, but she doesn’t move.

“I didn’t want to fight with you.”

Her cheeks begin to heat with anger, and it’s the worst sort of anger, the kind that makes her sob because she can’t contain it. It’s an anger that feels unfair, and she can never beat it; the tears begin to fall rapidly.

Sympathy tugs at his heart; his steely resolution falls as quickly as it has come up. “I know,” he acknowledges. “We’ve got to fight, sometimes, though.”

“I know, but I don’t want to. I only see you two days a week and I don’t want to spend one of them yelling at you,” she confesses. “All I want you, Javi. Is that so much to ask?”

It’s his turn for shame to fill him. He knows why that can’t be—knows it’s because there’s things she can’t know and having her in a building full of DEA agents comprises the both of them. She’s in danger just wearing that wedding band on her finger; God forbid any of those fucking narcs ever found out they were married. He shouldn’t have done it, married her, but he could not help it; a sort of selfishness that was not uncharacteristic had pushed the boundaries within him, and he decided the good outweighed the bad. But, maybe it didn’t.

He stands and envelops her frame in a hug. She sighs into his chest and wraps her arms tightly around him. She only wants to make him happy and to be happy with him. Why did it seem so hard? When this all began, it felt so easy, so nice and now it felt hard.

Javier kisses her softly, just a peck and she feels lighter because of it. As he goes to pull away, she pulls him closer again, pressing their lips together. He responds, a hand resting on her hip and the other on the small of her back, holding her against him. She initiates a deeper kiss, swiping her tongue against his lower lip. They stand like this for a few minutes, kissing and basking in the presence of each other the way they’d both desired.

It is Javi who pulls back from their kiss, needing air and wanting to take it further—just not here. In the beginning of their relationship, when it was just fucking, sex felt something they had to do everywhere; on the couch, on the table, on the counter, in the shower, on the ground, even in front of the window. And they still did that, still let spontaneity sway them, but they’d settled into more comfortable routines too. He liked fucking her in their bed, the one thing they always agreed was undeniably both of theirs wherever it resided. It was their bed so as long as they both fell there to sleep.

He doesn’t even have to speak, just nods his head in the general direction, before she’s tugging him along.

She sits down on the bed and peers up at him, eyes still red from the tears. He feels awful about it, but doesn’t have it in him to say it. Can’t, for some reason. It’s lost between his brain and his tongue, but it finds its way out through the gentle way he presses her onto her back and lets his lips kiss her everywhere. He kisses her face, her lips, then her neck, and then he goes further, pushing her shirt up and pressing his plush lips against the newly exposed flesh. Then he then he’s undoing her pants, kissing the spot where her panties usually begin. He offers her a mischievous grin, and she smiles back at him.

“You really didn’t want to fight, did you?”

She shakes her head. “No, you fuck, I didn’t,” she laughs.

He continues his trail down her body, and she lifts her hips so he can remove her pants. Javier presses his lips on her hips, on the flesh directly above the pubic bone. Then, he presses them on the inside of her thighs, teasingly slow when he gets closer to her core, and she whines out of protest when he spots. Her eyes flicker down to see why, and when her eyes met his, he presses his tongue against her clit. A moan escapes her and she grasps onto the bedspread. Javi is encouraged by this, swiping his tongue against her folds, dipping his tongue into her, tasting her—really, truly admiring every part of her—before pressing his tongue back onto her clit. He begins to suck gently, and she writhes without control beneath him. A trained expert at this now, he anchors her down by wrapping an arm around each thigh, holding them in place.

“Javi—“ she manages to say, just as the tension begins to build in her stomach. “Oh Javi, baby, faster.”

He obliges and she is quick to find her release in a matter of seconds. Javi remains in between her thighs, licking up her arousal. He’s gotten good at this, knows the way she likes it, knows how to do it even when she can’t tell him.

She carts a hand through his hair, tugging gently, and he removes his lips from her finally. Despite her worn state, she’s quick to rise and meet him, uncaring about her arousal on his face as she presses their lips together once more. He kisses her back with more need than he previously had, his jeans feel tighter and more constricting than usual.

“I want to ride you,” she whispers against his lips, and he nods eagerly. Her fingers work at his belt, and then the button of his jeans, hardly making it past the zipper before she slides her hand into his pants and palms his already hard member. He winces against her lips and she can’t help but grin; this is her Javi. This is the marriage she wants.

“Te amo,” she says, beginning to tug at his jeans. He assists her, pushing them down all the way.

“Take off your shirt,” he demands, tugging at the fabric. She obeys him, throwing the shirt in the same place his pants fell, before he tugs her closer to him. A gasp falls from her lips as she mounts him, the warmth of his length agonizing so close to her heat. She reaches between them, lining his cock up to her entrance. Eyes connect as she fills herself with him, and his mouth falls open, desperate to moan but too choked by the feeling of her around him. She moves slowly, not wanting to release the warmth of him yet in favor of forming a steady pace to ride him. Javi, however, is growing increasingly aroused beneath her, and can’t help the way he guides her on his cock. “Please,” he begs, brown eyes dark with desire. She nods, and they move together, her hips following his hands instructions.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, watching the way he slides in and out of her. “I’m not going to last much longer, baby.”

Distracted by her own desire, she merely nods his confession, grinding herself on him until she fills the beginnings of another orgasm, the sweet release inches away. He doesn’t lift her from himself now, wanting to savor this feeling for a few moments longer. “Te amo,” he finally responds back, a deep groan releasing at the way she squeezes around him. She grinds against him, and he lets her, allowing his finger to undo the bra they’d both been too eager to take off as she does. It falls slowly down her chest, and as soon as it exposes her nipple, he’s quick to wrap his mouth around it. This earns a throaty moan from her, and she swears her orgasm isn’t ever going to end.

He pulls the fabric down her arms completely before turning them over, never leaving her once. He is desperate now, denied his orgasm too long, and the heat is pooling viciously in his stomach. He thrusts roughly into her, a whine emitting from her lips when he does, but she lifts her hips to meet him the second time he does it.

“Faster, baby,” she encourages, and he presses his fingers into her hips so hard that he’s certain the skin will bruise as he thrusts into her for the last time.

He slides out of her, and with a few more rough tugs on his cock, he’s releasing on her stomach. He wants to lay beside her, flat and lifeless as his lugs play catch up (it’s the fucking cigarettes, but he can’t stop them), but he resists the urge. He leans towards the bed stand and grabs a handful of tissues, wiping himself and her clean of his cum. She lays still, watching him intently, a soft, appreciative smile embedding in her features.

“I miss you a lot, you know,” she says. He throws the tissues away in the bin across the room, and she takes in his frame; admires the way his back looks, the broadness of his shoulders, even his ass. He’s a good looking man, on top of everything, and she’s happy to be his wife. She just wishes it was easier.

“I do know. I miss you too.”

He slides back into bed, uncaring of his nakedness, and she uncaring of hers. He pulls her bare body against him, and she wraps a leg around her hip. She traces his lips with her finger and he takes her hand, kissing the palm of it.

He loves her, loves her so goddamn much that the guilt of the wedding ring on her dresser eats away at him. It bites and bites because the way he’s so casually lied about why he left it, acted as if it wasn’t deliberate. Doesn’t want to tell he’s afraid they’ll find out if he doesn’t, doesn’t want to have to worry about if she’s okay anymore than he does already. He calls her every night, checks in at the same time so he knows nothing is wrong, and she knows he does this, but there’s a thousand things she doesn’t see. A thousand things he doesn’t want her to see, either, like the way he left the wedding band because he’s afraid or the way he drives past her house every night before he goes to his, just to ensure it’s still there, even though he knows it is. Doesn’t want her to see the anxiety that fills him every time he hears about a bombing or the way he can’t sleep when he goes away. He wants their marriage to be perfectly normal, wants it all to be perfectly normal. Colombia deserves to be a country where marriages don’t feel this hard, and that’s all he wants to give her, but he can’t.

As she lays against him, she can feel the tension in his body, knowing by the way he holds her a little too firmly that he’s thinking about something. She wants to ask about what, but she doesn’t want to spoil the moment.

They’ve both become experts at sweeping things under the rug—at sacrificing—and neither of them knows whether it’s good or not, but they’ll continue to do it. Lie causally in order to protect, not address the pain and disorder, just for moments like this, moments that feel entirely like their own. Moments that make them feel married and dedicated to one another.

This is scene two from a marriage.

tagged: @filthybookworm

#javier peña x oc #javier peña x reader #javier pena x oc #javier pena x reader #javier pena x nameless oc #narcos fanfic #narcos fic

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hercleverboy · 4 years ago

Text

reassurance

spencer reid x reader

summary ↠ after a heated argument on a case, the reader gets fatally injured in the field. spencer battles with the fact that he never got to apologise.

category ↠ angst

warnings/includes ↠ major character death, depression, refusing to eat.

word count ↠ 4.2k

“Maybe I’ll see you in another life, if this one wasn’t enough.” — Florence + the Machine

Spencer and Y/N rarely fought.

Of course they bickered from time to time about silly things that wouldn’t matter ten minutes later, but they rarely had a full-on argument. Screaming matches where they tried to wound one another with bitter words they didn’t really mean. They’d only ever fought like that once or twice, but ultimately they’d end with heartfelt apologies and kisses as they forgave one another and grew from their mistakes.

This particular argument however, was easily the worst they’d ever had.

It was the first big fight they’d had since they’d gotten married four months prior.

You know what they say about marriage; the first year is the hardest.

“I just don’t understand why we have to talk about this right now.” Spencer scowled as he walked into the empty room, his wife following hot on his heels.

Themselves and the team were had been sent to North Carolina on a triple homicide case in Charlotte. They’d been there for two days, and the newlyweds had carried an awkward tension with them ever since the case started. The couple had gotten into the start of an argument before they’d had to leave for the jet, which left what they new would be a bad fight brewing between them. Neither of them wanted to start the inevitable fight they knew they were going to have to have at some point. Y/N wanted to remain professional, to keep her emotions in check until her and Spencer got home and could fight talk everything out. She was succeeding, until she saw how snappy and cold Spencer was acting with her during the case, cutting her off mid-sentence and dropping sassy, unnecessary comments whenever she spoke. That only fuelled Y/N’s fire further. So when she managed to catch him alone she decided they had to have it out, even if it was in the middle of the case.

She closed the door to the room behind her as she watched Spencer busy himself with the three case files of the murder victims before him. She turned to him, her arms crossing in front of her. “Because I wanted to wait to have this fight until after the case finished, but you started up with the snappy attitude for no reason!”

“I’m busy, Y/N. Not right now.” He uttered, brushing her off. Again.

“Yes, right now. Every time I bring up the topic you shut me down and I’m tired of it! We have to talk about this, Spence. I’ve let you brush me off too many times now.” Her voice had lowered, she wasn’t shouting anymore but she was still stern.

Spencer scoffed. “You’re being ridiculous. I don’t brush you off.”

“You do! That’s exactly what you did before we left for the jet the other morning. Anytime I bring up starting a family you don’t want to hear about it. It’s a conversation we need to have.” She groaned. It was true, anytime since they’d gotten married that Y/N mentioned the idea of starting a family, Spencer blew her off. He’d completely shut down the conversation, refusing to speak about it with her. Y/N was growing frustrated. She didn’t want them to start immediately trying for a baby or anything, she just wanted to discuss her future with her husband, and he acted like she’d asked him to commit murder with her.

“Nope, we don’t need to have that conversation right now.” He murmured, his back still turned to her as his fingers scanned over the pages of writing in front of him.

“Do you not want kids with me, is that it?” She winced, the thought hurting her.

“Not if you’re gonna act like this.” He responded and it made her breath hitch. She knew he was pissed but surely he didn’t mean that?

“Spencer- I-I love you, I want to have kids with you. We don’t have to start trying yet, not for a long while but I just need to know that it’s in the cards for us.” She swallowed, walking closer to him, hoping he’d turn to face her.

“Maybe if you didn’t jump down my throat about all the time I’d be more willing to talk!” He spat, finally turning to face her.

“Are you seriously trying to pin this all on me? I just need some comfort. You do eventually want a family, right?” Her voice got even quieter, her tone pleading and her eyes glassy.

“God Y/N why are you in such a rush? We only just got married!” He yelled, exasperated as he threw his arms out in exaggeration. “I just need some time to think, okay?”

“How much time? A month? Two?” She challenged.

“That’s not a lot of time, Y/N.” He ran his hands through his hair frustratedly.

“I can’t wait around for years only for you to decide you don’t want kids, Spence. That’s not fair on me, I’d have to start over-”

Spencer frowned, interrupting her. “Wait- start over? You mean with someone else?” For the first time in the argument his harsh exterior softened, worry seeping into his honey coloured iris’.

Y/N was silent, her gaze lowering to the floor as tears began to tremble down her cheeks.

Spencer scoffed and shook his head. “This is stupid.” He muttered under his breath, as though Y/N couldn’t hear it clear as day.

She let out a small sob when she opened her mouth to speak. “All I’m asking for is some reassurance. I’m your wife, Spencer! Why can’t you just give me that?”

“I don’t want kids, okay?! is that what you want to hear? Can we drop this now?” He exclaimed, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth but at this time his anger outweighed his regret.

Y/N recoiled, her eyes casting down to look at the floor as her sight blurred, hot tears rolling down her pink cheeks.

Just then three knocks sounded on the door, a sheepish looking JJ opened it, poking her head in. “Uh- sorry to interrupt. Garcia found us a possible address, Hotch wants you two to go and check it out.”

Y/N sniffed and wiped the tears away from under her eyes. She grabbed her FBI jacket that hung on the back of one of the chairs before turning toward JJ. “No. I’d rather go with Morgan.” She muttered before walking out the door without a second glance at her husband.

“Y/N wait-” He tried calling out but she was already gone. He sighed, running his hands over his face.

“What was that about?” JJ asked quietly, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“Nothing.” He tried to lie but JJ gave him a look, one that said don’t bullshit me. “We had a fight, it was a pretty bad one. I said some things I didn’t mean.”

JJ placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay. When her and Morgan get back you can tell her you’re sorry. You’ll work it out, you love one another too much not to.”

Spencer nodded, glancing down to the thin gold band that sat on his ring finger. His mind drifted back to their wedding day, the happiest day of his life. He remembered how she’d taken his breath away when he saw her coming down the aisle, wearing a dress so beautiful and so her that it brought tears to his eyes.

She was ethereal.

and she was his.

It brought a small smile to his lips. JJ was right. As soon as she got back they’d finish up this case and then he’d spend all the time he had to making it up to her. He thanked JJ before they headed to join the others in the other room. The team, minus Y/N and Morgan, were gathered around overlooking their profile and all the details of the case, looking for anything they might of missed.

Hotch’s phone rang out and he answered, all of the team looking his way, hoping whoever was on the other end of the line would give them the information they needed to crack the case wide open. Spencer wasn’t concerned until he saw the shift in Hotch’s face, from his usual stern look to one of worry and concern.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked as soon as Hotch hung up the phone.

“That was Morgan calling from the hospital. He and Y/L/N found the unsub at the address. He had a gun, with which he shot Y/L/N twice with before he fled.”

JJ let out a gasp. “She’s okay though, right? I mean she would’ve been wearing her vest.”

Hotch spared a glance at Spencer who looked at him with eyes so wide it hurt him. He slowly shook his head. “One bullet hit the vest, the other hit her side. She’s in emergency surgery now.”

Spencer was up from his seat within seconds, rushing out of the building towards the SUV’s, the rest of the team following quickly.

Spencer rushed through the white hospital hallways with a heavy weight in his heart that he’d never felt before. He dashed around the corner, his eyes landing on Morgan in the waiting room, who sat with his head in his hands.

“Morgan? Where is she? She okay, right?” He begged his best friend to tell him something, anything good.

Morgan just shook his head. “I’m sorry kid, I don’t know anything. She’s still in surgery.”

Spencer felt sick.

They waited for hours without news, him worriedly pacing the waiting room. He was going through every possible outcome in his head, thinking of the worst case scenarios, making himself physically sick with worry.

Any time a member of the team attempted to talk to him, he snapped at them, telling them to leave him alone. He knew they were just trying to help, but he could apologise for that later. The only think that mattered at that moment was his wife. Eventually he’d worn himself out, his mind and body overwhelmed with all the emotions and visions of worst case scenarios. It took JJ grabbing his wrist and taking him to another private room for him to finally accept her help. He broke down as soon as she wrapped her arms around him, trying desperately to soothe the sobs coming from his mouth.

He pulled back, sucking in deep breaths as he attempted to calm himself down. “When we were fighting earlier I told her I didn’t want kids with her, but it’s not true- God JJ, having s family with her is all I think about.” He wept. “I’m just so scared that I’ll pass down some of my undesirable genes, I don’t want my kids to have to suffer.”

JJ just gave him a sad look, unsure what to say.

“What if I never get the chance to tell her I lied? I love her so much JJ- I-I can’t lose her. I want to have a family so badly with her, she means everything to me.” He crumpled into one of the chairs in the room as JJ watched helplessly.

After regaining his breath and wiping his eyes, the two rejoined the group in the waiting room. The team sent him sympathetic glances but Spencer didn’t acknowledge them.

It was around 4am that an exhausted looking doctor walked into the waiting room. Immediately Spencer was on his feet, pleading in his head that the doctor will tell him that she was fine, that his wife was awake and alive and was waiting to see him. She was strong, a fighter. She was going to be fine.

and then everything came crashing down.

“I’m so sorry, Mr Reid.”

His knees buckled beneath him as he collapsed to the floor, heartbreaking sobs leaving his mouth as the doctor left the room, closing the door behind him.

Spencer could hear the other teams whimpers but he blocked them out.

He couldn’t feel anything but the sharp stabbing pain in his chest that made his whole body throb with a pain so unimaginable he wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy.

He barely registered how Derek’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him to his feet as his friend cried into his shoulder.

“I didn’t tell her I loved her before she left.” He bawled, and the sight broke the teams hearts.

“She knew, Reid. She knew.” Derek tried to soothe him but it was a fruitless attempt, as his heart-wrenching cries only intensified.

Two weeks later and the pain was still as fresh as it had been that day. Spencer’s body ached all over, his heart felt heavy in his chest.

He’d slept on the couch for weeks, refusing to sleep in their bed without her.

It felt wrong.

After shutting everyone out for two weeks and barely eating, showering or sleeping, he finally allowed JJ into his apartment. They didn’t speak, but he would sit on his sofa, staring blankly at the wall while JJ tried to get him to eat and encouraged him to shower. He wouldn’t respond, no matter how much his stomach rumbled with hunger, he wouldn’t eat. JJ tried her best, and she knew he was grateful, but he was so deep in his heartache and depression that he couldn’t do anything. She would tidy up sometimes and did laundry for him, encouraging him to change out of the same clothes he’d worn for weeks.

He heard JJ humming to herself quietly as she walked through the living room toward the kitchen, laundry basket in her hands. He normally wouldn’t have paid notice, but an item of clothing on top of the pile caught his eye. It was a bright mustard yellow cardigan.

Specifically, it was Y/N’s mustard yellow cardigan.

Spencer recalled how she loved the bright colour, having many items in her wardrobe of similar colour. She insisted it was for her ‘autumn style’, whatever that meant. Whenever she told him that he’d simply smile at her, his eyes so full of love and happiness. She would always grin back at him in response.

What he’d give to see that smile again.

“Wait.” He called out, his voice thick and raspy after weeks of not using it. “You can’t wash that.”

JJ looked over in surprise. He hadn’t spoken to her at all any of the other times she’d been over to help him.

Spencer got up and walked over, taking the cardigan from the top of JJ’s pile. He brought the item up to his face, inhaling deeply, a sob getting caught in his throat at the realisation that it still smelled like her, the scent of her perfume clinging to the fabric.

JJ’s eyes widened with the realisation that the cardigan belonged to Y/N. She’d just picked it up from where it had been on the floor in the bedroom, figuring it belonged to Spencer. She was about to apologise profusely for touching it when he spoke again.

“I miss her so much, JJ.” He cried, his voice cracking as she placed the basket down on the floor.

“Can I hug you?” She asked, unsure if he wanted to be touched at that moment.

He nodded, and was filled with a sort of relief when JJ’s arms wrapped around him. It was the first human contact he’d had in weeks. He welcomed the warmth. (He’d felt so cold lately.)

Later that night he’d sobbed himself into an uneasy sleep, clutching the cardigan to his chest, inhaling the scent of her perfume as if he could convince himself that she was still there.

When he woke the next day he saw the sunlight peeking in through the curtains that he hadn’t opened in weeks. He blinked, and noticed how his fists still clutched handfuls of the yellow cardigan. His memory flashed, and he recalled how she looked in the mornings- like a goddess. He could almost hear her melodic laugh, as though she were right next to him. He closed his eyes, hoping he’d wake up and it’d be real, that she’d be next to him and everything would be okay. This horrific nightmare would be just that- a bad dream, after which she’d soothe him with hushed reassurances and soft kisses to his forehead.

He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping and praying that when he opened them she’d be there in his arms, where she was meant to be.

He opened his eyes slowly, only to be met with what he feared, an empty space beside him.

Spencer really thought he couldn’t cry anymore, that he was all out of tears, but as he felt the familiar feeling rise in his chest, his breaths picked as a small sob broke from his lips.

He didn’t leave the sofa that day.

He was sat with his back against one of his walls, his knees pulled up to his chest. His phone buzzed from the table across the room. The team called and texted him regularly, but he never responded. Though no one called him more than Derek Morgan, worried sick for his closest friend.

Spencer waited for the buzzing to stop, the familiar tone ringing out that signalled he’s been left a voicemail. Something inside him possessed him to stand up, grabbing his phone and tapping the buttons to hear the voicemail.

“Hey Reid. Its Morgan, I-uh.” His voice cracked. Morgan was never a particularly emotional man, but he still remembered that day Y/N died clearly, and was consumed by guilt. He blamed himself, Spencer could hear it in his voice.

Morgan swore under his breath as he placed his hands against her side, desperately trying to slow the blood pouring from the wound.

“Morgan.” She grunted. “The unsub- you have to go after him.” She clenched her teeth together at the searing pain in her side, a burning feeling like nothing she’d ever felt before.

“No, Y/N. I won’t leave you here. Not only are you Spencer’s wife but you are my friend and I’m gonna stay with you, okay?” He promised, meeting her tear filled eyes as she nodded. “The ambulance is gonna be here any second, just gotta hold on for me yeah?”

Y/N nodded and fought desperately to keep herself awake but could feel herself slipping away with every second that passed. She shook her head from side to side, hopelessly trying to force herself to stay awake, fighting to keep her eyes open.

“Y/N? Y/N! Come on, baby. You gotta stay awake. What about Spencer, hm? Talk to me about him.” Morgan was just trying to get her talking in hopes that she’d stay awake long enough for the ambulance to arrive.

“He said he doesn’t want kids with me.” She mumbled, giving a weak smile. “We- We argued about it earlier, but I’m not mad at him. Morgan, he has to know I forgive him-” She coughed, blood spilling from her lips as she winced. She looked up at Morgan. “Y-You have to tell him. Tell him that i-it’s okay. Tell him I love him, that I-” She let out another cry in agony as he pushed harder down on her wound.

“Listen, listen. You hear the sirens? They’re close. You just gotta stay awake for a little while longer. Then you can tell pretty boy all of this yourself, okay?” Derek looked around as he heard the sound getting closer, relief breaking out across his face when the ambulance rounded the corner, coming into view. He looked down to Y/N to reassure her, but noticed how her body had gone limp beneath him. “Y/N?” His eyes were wide as he moved a hand to shake her shoulder, getting no response. “Y/N please-”

“I just need you to know, if you’re listening, how sorry I am. Y/N she- she told me, before the ambulance came-” Derek paused and Spencer’s breath hitched. “She wanted me to tell you she loved you. That she forgave you.” Derek cleared his throat, evidently trying to keep up his ‘tough guy’ act for the sake of his friend. “I just- needed you to know that. Call me when you’re ready.” The loud beep sounded out after the message finished and Spencer just stood, frozen.

His wife’s last words were that she loved him, that she forgave him.

It didn’t make him feel any better.

JJ was washing up plates in his kitchen after pretty much forcing him to eat some soup. He only had about four spoonful’s, which was disappointing but it was progress, and she figured it was better than nothing.

It had been a month since Y/N died, and nothing was getting better for Spencer. Everyday felt worse and worse, the pain never got lighter like people said it would, it never got any easier to deal with.

He sat on the sofa with a book perched on his lap, though he made no attempt to read it. He’d loved to read before, but now he couldn’t look at any of his books without thinking of how he used to read them to Y/N when she couldn’t sleep. He found that everywhere he looked in the home, he was reminded of her.

After drying the plate and putting it away, JJ turned to look at her friend who sat staring at the wall blankly.

She spoke although she knew she likely wouldn’t receive a response, she didn’t mind. He needed human interaction of some sort. “I’ve been talking to the others and- we think maybe it would be useful for you to speak to someone. Anyone, Spence. You can’t keep living like this. It’s killing you.” She murmured, her voice pleading. He shifted his gaze to look at her, but said nothing. “If you don’t want to talk to someone, how about you try writing letters? It’s something they had me do when Roslyn died. I used to burn them afterwards too, I found it therapeutic. It helped, even if just a little bit.” She tried, hoping he’d at least consider the idea.

After JJ left Spencer thought about what she’d said. At first he’d thought it was a stupid idea, pathetic, really. Writing letters weren’t going to bring his wife back.

but then again, nothing would.

He found himself sat at his desk, pen and paper in front of him. It took him hours to figure out what he wanted to say. At first he couldn’t even decide how to address the letter, was just her name good enough? He wrote and rewrote the letter a hundred times, trying to get everything right. Eventually he realised that there was no way to get it ‘right’, he just had to write how he felt.

‘Y/N,

JJ reckons that this will help aid my grief, and I can see how much my state is scaring her, so I figured I’d give this a shot.

Its been two months since you left.

Since you left the world, since you left me.

I know it wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you, not for anything. I blame myself more than anyone else. If I’d just told you the truth rather than trying to be difficult, maybe you’d still be here. Maybe if I had just given you the reassurance you were looking for, It would’ve been me who’d come with you to the address.

I would’ve protected you.

Because that was my job, you know. To protect you. And I failed.

I miss you.

I miss how we’d stay up watching crappy reality TV shows on nights where neither of us could sleep after a case. I miss the nights you’d let me read to you, your head on my lap as you slowly drifted to sleep. I miss making breakfast with you early on a Sunday morning, on the rare occasion we got the weekend to ourselves without any interruptions from work. I miss dancing with you in our living room to whatever music you played. I never cared what song it was, only that it was you that I was dancing with.

You were my favourite song.

I hope you know how sorry I am.

I’m sorry that I’ll never get to tell you how I lied to you that day in the police station. That I’ve never regretted any words more than I do those ones. I wish I could tell you how badly I want a family with you. How nothing would make me happier than seeing little versions of ourselves that we created, that we could raise together.

I don’t think the stabbing pain I feel in my chest when I think of you will ever cease. I’ll carry the guilt of my words for the rest of my life.

Penelope says it will get better someday. But I can’t imagine a day where I wake up without you and don’t feel empty.

I love you. So much.

Forever yours,

Spencer. ‘

He clicked his lighter three times before the flame appeared. Taking a deep breath, he hovered it to the edge of the letter, watching it catch alight and begin to burn. As he watched the flames flicker in front of him, he wondered if he’d ever know peace.

If he’d ever be able to breathe again without her by his side.

He’d have to learn to live without her.

An impossible task.

#spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg x reader #mgg #criminal minds

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sweeethinny · 4 years ago

Text

Home (M)

Summary: Home is anywhere you are

AN: I just finished a story that I've been trying to finish for over two months

it's been a long time since the last time I wrote Smut, and I was very embarrassed to post it, but today I translated and edited it, and here it is :) no plot, just fluff and smut

AO3 or read bellow the cut

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Harry was exhausted. He couldn't take any more training, listening to any complaints from Robards, let alone having to deal with co-workers.

When he joined the Aurors, no one said that everything would be so full of paperwork and bureaucracy to sort out, and that there would always be someone to test how far you went without freaking out. Harry felt almost cheated.

Sometimes, fighting Voldemort was less stressful than having to deal with the Auror Department bureaucracy that seemed to go on and on.

He thought all day about the time he was going to go home, from the moment he had to leave the bed warm and comfortable next to Ginny who slept what seemed like the best sleep of life. He thought about going home when Robards yelled at him, when he had to read ten pages of a Law just to come to the conclusion that the document was wrong, thought when he missed lunch and had to make do with pumpkin juice that Hermione had forgotten in his office, and thought about leaving when he received a letter from Ginny informing him that she would be arriving a little later.

He could plan something romantic for them, he could have made that fish stuffed with farofa that she likes so much, bought her favorite wine ... But no. Harry was stuck in the same office where Robards and Theo decided to fight and take out the anger on all the younger ones.

Harry snorted impatiently in the waiting line at Flu, completely ignoring politeness and ignoring anyone who wanted to talk to him, just wanting to get to his home, where there would be no angry boss, exhausting training and paperwork. Where there would be his girlfriend, silence and his bed for the next 3 days.

Training today hadn't even been the worst part, if it was true. Of course, Theo made them sweat a lot more than usual, and Harry even thought he would end up dying in the middle, but it was better to keep quiet and feel the pain in the muscles later than to complain and need to listen to Theo talking for hours and hours on how to train was important.

Harry just wanted to go home.

Ginny was so beautiful sleeping in his T-shirt, her hair all messed up and her cheeks red, mumbling a few words when he kissed her and said goodbye to go to work. He felt stuck with that image all day, meditating that he would have 2 days of it on the weekend, waking up next to his girlfriend and wasting hours just lying with her, completely ignoring the outside world, without caring about responsibilities or with eating. Harry would live happily with just Ginny in his arms, and that was what made him sane.

At the end of the day she would be there, with him, making him laugh at some thing that happened in the Harpy's locker rooms, and commenting on how much better he looks with his beard.

Harry hoped that Ginny didn't want to do something that involved leaving the house, honestly, Harry barely wanted to have to wear pants this weekend, let alone see other people. But as far as he knew the woman he lived with, Ginny was just as exhausted as he was, and was probably lying to keep them from going to some fancy and boring party, or some meeting of colleagues at the bar.

When he was finally able to use the Flu, Harry heard his name being called from afar by the Minister of Sport, accompanied by something that sounded like ''Mr Potter, we have great news.'' which made him hurry even further to travel to home security, because nothing would be good news from the guy who was in the Aurors' office all day complaining about drug use in the locker rooms - even after they went over three times the "clues" that Joe insisted he had.

The man more than quickly entered the Flu, throwing the dust and going to home right after, seeing nothing more than a blur of Joe and his frog face, falling safely in his own fireplace, seeing the decoration of the apartment that he and Ginny had chosen together.

‘Home sweet home.’ He said to himself, wiping the soot from his shoulders and taking off his cloak and shoes, ready to take a bath and prepare to make dinner. Harry knew that Ginny would still be late, the clock still indicated that she was at work, which gave him some time to think of some food that would be quick and easy.

But just from being at home, Harry was already happier.

Going up the stairs wearing only his underwear - he levitated the filthy clothes for the laundry - he started to prepare the bath.

He started doing that for Ginny, after training and with pain in her arms, he always prepared a good bath for her and gave her a massage, but then, he started to feel a lot of pain and tiredness, and started to benefit from the various salts and soaps that they contained. It was always very relaxing to lie there in the hot water covered by the bubbles and the feeling of peace that reached him, relaxing even the most tense of muscles.

The bathtub was not always used to relax, now and then Ginny and he would warm the weather there, intertwined, after drinking a little wine and talking a little about each other's day. Ginny would climb onto Harry's lap and kiss him until none had more breath, kissing him provocatively as he squeezed her waist, ass and breasts, traveling his hand to all her curves, delighting in the strong body she came from acquiring on account of training.

When his tired foot touched the warm water, Harry almost groaned in satisfaction, entering the water even before the bath was completely filled, the salts all mixed together to form bubbles and scent the bathroom. His shoulder blades hurt, as did his biceps, triceps and abdomen, thinking how much repetition they had to do in strength and endurance training, and how his palms had become callused from hanging on the iron bar

Ginny always said that she loved watching Harry train. They trained together a few mornings at the gym on the corner where they lived, and every time Harry lifted weights, Ginny stopped doing whatever she was doing to watch him for a few minutes - and he always tried hard to look attractive, even though he was feeling like he was going to die.

He also loved watching her train. Ginny was almost as strong as Harry, and watching her lift weights and do squats was one of his pleasures, always ready to help her straighten her spine and get a privileged view of her ass.

‘You are a bastard,’ she would say, as they walked back to their home. ‘I saw how you looked at me.’

‘Ginny, of course I looked.’ Harry would respond, sweating like never before, wanting to miss work just to enjoy his free time with his girlfriend. ‘Seeing you lifting weights is the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed.’

‘One day I’ll end up getting stronger than you, if you just keep looking at me and don’t train as you should.’ She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, opening the front door of the apartment and taking off the hood of the sweatshirt she wore.

‘And I’ll come in my pants.’ He would slap her ass and smile, ready for a shower and a quickie with her, before he had to face the paperwork that was waiting for him at work.

The Harry of now, immersed up to his neck in the bathtub with hot, fragrant water, sighed, smiling at the memories, thinking how it was possible for someone to love as much as someone as he loved Ginny. He just wanted her to get home soon so they could get lost in the hours and rest together.

Thinking about it, Harry also remembered the diamond ring he saw at the jewelry store near the Ministry, shining in the window as if it were the most expensive jewel - it wasn't, but the most expensive was too ugly - and making him wonder how it would fit perfectly on Ginny's long, thin fingers. Was it the right time to do it? And did it have the right time for that? Harry didn't know, but he thought that if there was, they might be close.

[...]

'Starting without me?' A voice woke him from the sleep that was already taking him, making him open his eyes and see a smiling Ginny with her arms crossed leaning on the door, barefoot, with the tank top she used to train in and her shorts black, looking, as always, beautiful. ‘I thought you were going to wait for me.’ She said, starting to undress.

‘I thought it would take longer.’ Harry splashed water on his face, trying to wake up and go back to Earth, not even remembering how he managed to sleep in such an uncomfortable position. 'Hi.'

‘Hello.’ Ginny smiled, stepping into the bathtub and already going to his lap, laying her warm and slightly sweaty body on top of Harry’s, who was much more rested than he was minutes ago. ‘It took me a while, but I think you dozed off while you waited for me.’

‘Sorry, it was a rough day.’ He wrapped his arms around her waist, keeping them close enough for him to feel every bit of her, looking into the brown eyes he liked so much, feeling a lot more awake now. 'I missed you.'

'Me too,' Ginny kissed him, seeming to taste him as if it were one of the lollipops she usually kept in her mouth, playing with his tongue and making a point of brushing her naked body with Harry's, which was beginning to show signs. ‘I thought all day about what we were going to do for our weekend’’ She rocked her hips on top of his, delightfully making him feel her on his dick.

'What was the conclusion?' Harry grabbed her hair with his free hand and pulled back, forcing Ginny to let go of his mouth and let him stroll around her delicious neck, traveling through that sea of freckles and reddish skin that made Harry delirious. The smell, the softness, her reaction, everything was the meaning of perfection in his eyes.

The sound of her moaning as she leaned back, raising her pink breasts from the hot water and brushing their pelvis even closer together, made Harry squeeze his hand on her hip and bend his toes to avoid lifting his hip and succumb to her teasing.

‘I thought we would enjoy it a little, after so many days that we barely managed to spend more than ten minutes together.’ Her red nails marked the skin on Harry's shoulder when he kissed that exact spot that Ginny liked, just below the ear, smiling when he heard her almost purring on his lap, moving her hips back and forth without even seeming to feel.

Harry needed a lot of strength to keep his stil, knowing that he would not be able to resist much temptation after he felt her fully under his member.

‘It really has been a bad day.’ He released his hand from her soft hair, feeling her shiver where he was passing, reaching his hand to her breasts and lowering his mouth to one of them, feeling drunk by the perfume that Ginny exhaled. Harry would never know how to punctuate the exact smell, but it was a mixture of flowers, something sweet and Ginny, which didn't make much sense, but it was what Harry felt. That had been the smell of his Amortentia for years now.

Her thighs tensed next to Harry's hip when he started kissing her nipples, and it seemed like it wasn't that important anymore to talk about the weekend's plans or how they hadn't had much time, not when Ginny she started pulling his hair and arching under him as she always did when she started to get excited.

Using all his willpower, Harry let go of her breasts and pinned her even more in his lap, groaning at the sensation of being completely touching, then rising from the bathtub. Ginny's scream of fright made him laugh, her arms wrapping around his neck to keep her balance and her beautiful brown eyes even darker, staring at him.

‘Someone trained well today.’ She smiled, not even caring about the trail of water left behind, the pink body of the hot water getting goosebumps with the temperature, and Harry almost dropped them when he saw her nipples reacting too.

‘Theo made us sweat today.’

‘Now I understand why the bathtub.’ Harry nodded, taking the wand just enough to dry them superficially before dropping that tantalizingly beautiful redhead in the middle of their bed.

It was like facing one of those works of art about Aphrodite that they had seen in the Muggle Museum they visited; the red hair, the dark eyes shining with excitement, the naughty smile he loved so much, that sculptural body that literally put Harry on his knees on the floor, all naked on the bed. But Aphrodite wouldn't be able to be as beautiful as Ginny was.

At that moment, Harry thought it was a good time to propose.

He did not imagine himself seeing anyone there but her, he did not imagine himself waking up or going to sleep with someone else, and besides, he did not want anyone else. It was she, and only she, that Harry wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Seeing her wear white, imagining their children in the future, thinking about what their house would be like, family vacations, everything... It had always been, and always would be, with her.

‘Never seen a naked woman before, Potter?’ She joked, poking him in the waist with her foot, looking even more tempting that way. The silky leg stretched out and invited him to come even closer.

‘All I thought about today was you naked.’ He smiled, grabbing her foot and bending down to kiss all the way he reached; her foot, her ankle, her calf, everything he was capable of kissing, Harry kissed, numb with pleasure. ‘I couldn’t help thinking about coming home just to see you.’

'This is very romantic.' Ginny pulled him so that he lay on her, then immediately turned them over and stood on top, in one of the positions that the two liked the most. ‘I really like when you’re romantic.’ She ran a hand through her red hair and naturally, pinned it in a bun, her eyes dark with pleasure. ‘I also thought about you during the day.’

'Yes? What was I doing in your thoughts?' His hands almost automatically went to her hips, trying hard to keep his eyes on hers, but the middle of her legs was getting closer and closer and Harry didn't have much control over himself in those moments.

‘Oh, a lot, we would waste a lot of time just for me to list everything, and we don't want that, right?’ Ginny would come closer and he could do what he loved to do so much. ‘My eyes are up here.’

‘I know,’ Harry shifted on the bed, a little uncomfortable with the erection that hurt between his legs. ‘Let me make some of your fantasies come true, then.’ He squeezed his hands again on her hips, pulling her into his face, ready to take on that position he liked so much. Fortunately, Ginny was willing.

Harry was happy that he had been doing it for some time to know exactly how to do it and how to make her squirm in that specific way, which he always thought he was away from her for a few days.

It was almost like a drug, he felt a little sick when he or Ginny traveled and needed to stay away from each other, because it was always something that left him looking forward to having her in his arms again. Not only sexually, Harry obviously also missed the simple moments, like lying on the couch and talking to her while they drink good wine, or watching a muggle movie, knowing that she will sleep in less than half an hour, hugging him like a sloth on the tree trunk.

Harry loved her with all his heart.

The first moan filled him with joy, needing to use his free hand to try to relieve the pressure he already felt, dedicating himself to getting her lost in emotions, as Ginny always did with him.

All the stress of the day felt like nothing now, nothing being more important than Ginny's pussy on his face, her thick, strong thighs squeezing him in place and almost suffocating him. It would be a delightful death.

Her hands, so delicate and small, tugged at his hair as if trying to break his head in two, moaning louder and louder and moving her hips almost automatically, seeming to lose her balance as she trembled.

It was a real paradise, he could do that for hours, it was almost as good as when she was kneeling in front of him. Almost. But still, seeing her on her knees would always make him shiver.

Harry increased the pressure of his thumb on her clitoris, knowing that Ginny didn't seem to be able to hold on much longer, straddling his face as if it were going to make her live, and it was he who almost came when he opened his eyes and saw her. Head to the sky, hands resting on his chest, while she moved her hips furiously and arrived in that state where she was quite noisy, almost worrying him that maybe the neighbors would complain. As they did a few months ago.

It didn't take long for him to hear his name coming out as a plea, her face falling and looking him in the eye as she came, mouth open but no noise coming out, looking like a Goddess, a little disheveled and sweaty. It was one of the most beautiful views of all time.

‘Fuck.’ She fell on the bed next to him, her head close to his thigh, her eyes closed and her legs stretched out. ‘You’re good at this, Potter.’

‘I’ve improved my technique.’ Harry smiled, wiping the traces of her arousal from his chin, a little lost too, it was always hard not to come along with Ginny at those times. ‘Was that what you were thinking during the day?’

‘Don’t touch me!’ Ginny patted his hand when Harry tried to caress her leg, with no ulterior motives, just because he liked the softness. ‘And yes, that was it, but you always outdo yourself.’

‘Thanks, I try.’

‘Great, I don’t mind being used as an experiment.’ She sighed, her freckled, red chest rising and falling, her breasts still pointing upwards gloriously. 'You said you had a hard day...' Ginny opened her eyes, her delicate hand resting on Harry's thigh, dangerously close to his dick.

‘I did, and all I could do was think about you.’

‘Have I said I love it when you’re romantic?’ She blushed, smiling lovingly and winking at him, which made Harry laugh and feel at peace, nodding.

'You say every now and then.' He kept his hands away from her body, even though Ginny's fingers drummed on the inside of his thigh and almost made him sweat with desire. Merlin, all he wanted to do was come, it was almost stressful and painful.

‘You didn’t specify your thoughts for me.’ Like a sly cat she was, Ginny moved, returning to his lap, but this time, sitting on his thighs.

'You know, the same old thing, you and me naked and a creaking bed, nothing much--' Harry swallowed the words, closing his eyes and arching against the bed, feeling in the clouds when her hand came around his penis.

It was a delicious sensation, her palm warm and soft, rising and falling slowly as if she wanted to kill him, while the other massaged his balls in the way that Ginny knew was driving him crazy.

Harry didn't even have to look to know what was coming next, but he wanted to have the privileged vision of seeing her putting him inside her mouth. And the redhead seemed to guess, smirking and winking as she moved to slide down his legs, making Harry move to sit more on the edge of the bed, almost coming when he saw her kneeling, as in the various erotic dreams he had when he was a teenager, but much better.

‘I’ll take care of you, babe,’ Ginny whispered, hands surrounding him and then putting him inside her mouth, causing him to fall from heaven to hell.

There were no words to describe the sensations he felt, losing strength in his forearms and falling on the bed, one hand gripping the sheet tightly while the other was on Ginny's head, which went up and down at a tortuous speed. The feel of her cheeks and tongue around him, the low moans she made, the moans he made, were all Harry needed.

The tension in his body was no longer because he needed to worry about paperwork, training, or reporters who were invasive, the tension now was because Harry was holding himself back from coming like a teenager who never got a blowjob, feeling the sweat settling on the base of the spine, Ginny's speed gradually increasing and how much she swallowed from him too. Harry was ready to die.

If the sight of her coming was beautiful, he didn't even know what to feel when he saw her with her eyes closed, concentrated, her cheeks drawn in while his cock disappeared and appeared inside her delicate mouth.

‘If you want to continue with this,’ He said, after a lot of effort. ‘Stop now before I ruin our night.’ Ginny opened her eyes, smiling as she could, slowly taking his dick out of her mouth, seeming to admire how much it affected him.

‘Are you so needy?’ Her brown eyes mesmerized him, as well as her fingers wiping the corners of her pink mouth.

'You have no idea'

[...]

'Would you marry me?' Harry asked, lying face down on the bed, tired, still a little damp from the bath they had taken, feeling his muscles relaxed on top of the soft mattress.

'Is it a propose?' Ginny smiled, also looking tired, her eyes almost closing, but still trying to stay awake.

'No, just a question.' He said. 'I never asked you if you wanted to get married.'

'Of course I want.' Ginny approached, wrapping an arm around Harry's back and sticking them together as she could, noses almost touching, and her floral scent filled his nostrils like a drug, cradling him even more to sleep, making him feel at peace.

'With me?' Harry asked just to hear her laugh, which worked, her smile flashed on her face.

'Who else would it be with?' They stared at each other, it was almost a total gloom if it weren't for the side of the curtain that let in a yellow street light, illuminating one side of Gin's face and the wall beside the bed. Harry could see her brown eyes sparkle, her red eyebrows rising, and her lips curl in that mischievous smile that she always gave when she was trying to keep from laughing.

'You have a long line of admirers.' Harry shrugged, raising his hand to undo her bun and stroke the red hair.

'You also have a long line,' she said, but she didn't look jealous, just amused.

'But it's you I want to marry,' said Harry, kissing her nose, smiling like a fool.

'Great, because you are my chosen one.' Ginny gave him a quick peck, the smile still on her face. 'And only mine.'

'Only yours.' He nodded, closing his eyes, feeling at peace.

'Not that I had any doubts, I mean, you grabbed me in the middle of a room with 50 people, and you don't even like attention.' They both laughed, the memory making him feel a little more silly in love with her.

'It is your effect on me. I already said, for you I would declare myself in front of a crowd.’

'And I already told you not to do that.' Ginny kissed him again, this time, taking a little longer. 'I love you.'

'I love you, too.' He sighed, feeling at home with her in his arms.

#hinny #harry x ginny #this story has been stored for a long time #the ending is a little bad but i like it #ahahaha

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secondhand-trash · 4 years ago

Text

Wet Cherry

A/N: me? Getting nervous over writing smut because I haven’t written any properly in a while let alone for a new fandom? It’s more likely than you think...

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x f!reader

Description: Who knew red lip gloss could be so powerful?

Warning: dirty talk, oral(giving), female masturbation

Word count: 2715

Kuroo Tetsurou had been staring at you for a good while now and he was starting to feel very, very antsy.

He wasn’t particularly familiar with all the steps you took to doll yourself up, all he knew was you had maybe a bit too much fun with it and it made you happy so he always let you do your thing no matter how long it took. He was sitting on the bed and staring at your figure in front of the vanity, his mind slowly drifting away when he heard a light pop of your lips. It was a thick layer of red gloss coating your lips, the texture looking rather gooey as you smacked them together to make sure it was all spread out nicely.

He even complimented you on it when you turned around to face him, delighting you a little as he asked if that was a new colour.

“Ah, I wasn’t expecting you to notice,” you grinned as you took his hand before standing up from the vanity, “I saw the red and just knew I have to get it.”

You were not much of a fan of flashy colours yourself but you were well aware of the sentiment that was behind his love for the bold pop of red and had slowly tried to incorporate it into your own life more and more, which he appreciated. It was a beautiful colour on you, even though he wasn’t too certain if he was all too sharp towards the difference between the many existing shades of red.

At first, he didn’t think too much about it. It was just a pretty look on you. The red sheen definitely felt fitted for the increasingly hot weather, the juiciness from the shine looking particularly refreshing for the summer time. Until he started to notice that his eyes kept drifting back to your lips as the day passed and he realised that the way the gloss made your lips looked so plump and pillowy was starting to make his mind wander to places that made his blood boil hotter than the burning sun.

The red on its own was bold enough to have his gaze glued on you, but the way the gloss stuck together as your lips moved just added a whole other layer of visual appeal. He was trying hard to concentrate on what you were saying, but all he could focus on was how the sun light reflected as your cupids bow arched. Your lips were so glassy, almost like the bead of water that glided down the red aluminum can and spread the chill from his finger tips all the way to his body.

Or when you were sucking on the straw when you stopped by the cafe at the corner to grab a drink. The sight of you with your mouth wide and your lips pressed tightly around the thin plastic made his entire body tensed up. He tried to stop himself from linking it to other activities where you also had to suck on something long and hollow your cheeks but he just couldn’t, not when your lips looked like a cherry that was just pulled out of the syrup as you let out a satisfied sigh before releasing the straw. The red mark left at the rear looking especially erotic.

Cherry, that’s what it was. Round and supple, all types of sweet and sour in his mouth if you would let him take a bite.

The worst part was that you had been denying his urge to feel it for himself the entire day, swiftly turning your head away from him every time he tried to play coy and gave you a peck on the lips. He wanted nothing more than to just press you against the nearest wall and feel that wetness on your lips smeared all over his face when you pouted, warning him not to smudge your lipstick.

That was just cruel, plain cruel. Almost as cruel as the way you were licking and sucking at the candy in your hand as you blatantly ignored your boyfriend’s hungry eyes on you.

Did you know? Did you know that right now all he could think of was how you would look with your plump lips wrapped around his cock? Or the sweet sounds that he could drew out of you when he made you suck on his long fingers? You had to be at least be somewhat aware of the effect you had on him, that he was on the verge of combusting if you sucked and licked the round piece of red candy in your mouth one more time. If you were really deliberately riling him up as he was suspecting that you were, then you sure had a lot of control on yourself to not even spare a glance his way. One hand linked to his, you twirl the white stick on the other as you pulled it out, a thin silver string of saliva connecting from your lips to the lollipop. The coat of spit on the red candy had a sharp resemblance to your own lips, your tongue darting out to press flat against the ball before eloping your lips around it again.

With the lollipop in hand and your lips jutted out in a false display of innocence, you asked if he was feeling alright, that he was being more quiet than usual. What a fucking tease, so you did knew. He had to suppress the urge to just take the candy from your hand and make you drool over something else with those lips, to just feel them somewhere, anywhere. But being a man of good patience, he swallowed the saliva that was pooling in his mouth and smiled.

He was ready to wreck you the moment he had you all alone to himself.

You pretended to be shocked when he pushed you against the wall the moment the front door was locked. You gasped as he gripped your wrists, his body towering over yours even as he bent down with the aim at your exposed neck. His teeth dragged along the soft skin, biting and sucking as he went from the curve down to the dip of your collarbone. You could feel the wetness he left as he bit down, his hand pulling your collar down roughly.

He had no intention to stop until you were adorned in all different shades of red as revenge.

“Someone had fun trying to rile me up.” His voice was low at your ear, his hot breath fanning the sensitive skin at the nap of your neck as he spoke.

You grinned, the two red valves splitting cross your face and he just wanted to see how long that cheeky smile would last when he had his way with you.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” you said, rolling your hips up and hummed when you felt the bulge that was pressing up against you.

He groaned, “Yeah, yeah, keep running that mouth of yours,”

You yelped when he pinched your waist, his laugh ringing by your ear when you slapped him in the shoulder but he didn’t even budge. The grin on your face did not falter when he yanked you by the wrist towards your bedroom, pulling you down to the mattress so that you were straddling his lap in one swift motion.

“Feel this?” he muttered when he took your hand in his and placed it on his hard on, his much larger hand completely covering yours as he guided you to palm him, “Feel what you did to me?”

“Aw,” it would be a lie if you said it was not ridiculously hot to know that you needed to do so little in order to have such an effect on him, but you both know the best fun comes from the teasing. You felt your own arousal pooling up when his cock twitched beneath the layers when you darted your tongue out to lick your lips, pushing the thick gloss around as you collected it at its tip, “is the red too much? If I knew it would get you going, I would have wear glosses way more often...”

Bringing his thumb to your face, he mused as he gently touched the glassy liquid on your lips, feeling the way it stick to his finger. “On this cute mouth? Oh yeah...” you almost gave him the pleasure of hearing you whine when he brought his thumb to the corner of his lips and swiped the bit of red onto his lips, tasting the faint scent of mint at his finger, “Got me thinking about gagging you with my cock all day long.”

His filthy words had your back tensed up. His loop-sided smirk that had your knees weak found its way to his face as he sat back with one hand pressed on the mattress, the other giving your shoulder a light push. “Be a good girl and deal with it for me?”

Your hands lingered on his torso as you slid down, settling between his legs as you kneeled in front of him. With both hands gripping his thighs, you stared right into his eyes as you dipped down to take the fly of the zipper between your teeth and pulled down. You rubbed your thighs together when his breath hitched, your hands fumbling to peel the layers away so you could get to what he was packing underneath.

His cock stood up for attention the moment it was released from its confines and he felt his chest swelling when you licked your lips at the sight. You could be a tease all you wanted but you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. The muscles at his abdomen tensed up when you took a long lick from the base of his length all the way to the tip, your tongue swirling at the slit to collect the bead of pre-cum that was leaking out. You were taking your time, like he was the piece of candy that was in your mouth just earlier, taking in the taste as it expanded in your mouth and torturing him in the process.

The moan he let out when you finally sank down on his cock was nothing less than sinful and you couldn’t help but whined, the vibration from your lips hitting him in full force. Your mouth on its own was enough to have him losing his mind, but the stickiness that was from the gloss on your lips added a whole other layer of pleasure to his senses. His hand instinctively went to the back of your head when you started bobbing up and down on his shaft, each drag of your mouth spreading the red stain around. The friction that was added from the layer of gloss had his hand clutching at the sheets and he felt the shivers running down his spine when the tingling of the mint slowly seeped through his skin.

You looked up at him, hollowing your cheeks as you took him in your mouth, your hand gripping what could not fit. You made it a challenge to get as much of a reaction out of him every time you are in this position, and nothing could turn you on more when you glanced at him through your lashes to see his head threw back, his eyebrows locking together with his lips parted. He was sitting back and the muscle of his body spasmed under the pleasure, his arms flexing as he tried to remain control.

His pupils were blown out when he looked down at you again, a choked laugh leaking from his lips as he gripped your hair in his hand and gave it a light tug. You had red smeared all over your chin, his cock glistening with the mixture of your spit and the gloss.

“Come on, I know you can take my cock better than that,” he said, the light pain from your sculp egging you on as you took all of him with one smooth movement. He groaned at the feeling your throat tightening around him, his tip hitting the back before you pulled away. Drool leaked from the corner of your lips but you did not pay it much mind as you turned your attention back to him. “That’s a good girl, sucking me off so well... so good for me...”

Your eyes were glassy from the tears that was starting to pool up from the gag and he moved his hand to wipe away the drop that was threatening to roll down your face. Praises fell from his lips as you continued to move and the way your hips were rolling against nothing from a desperate need of friction did not escape his sharp eyes. “Go on, touch yourself,” his voice was breathy as he commanded, “play with that pussy while you slobber all over my cock.”

The unruly piece of his bangs were matted to his forehead as he looked down at you, the lazy smile tugging at his face together with his flushed cheeks. As he sat back against his arm and the other holding tight against the back of your head, that was pure sexuality oozing off of him and you couldn’t help but feel the rush of heat in between your legs as you took him deep inside your cavity once again. Your hand digging into the tensed muscle of his thigh as the other found its way into your panties. Spreading your wetness from the tip of your finger to the side of your cunt, you could not hold yourself back when you slid those digits and stretch out your walls.

He groaned at the sight of you shamelessly grinding against your hand, you muffled moans on his cock making him drag your head along him at an even faster pace. You could feel him twitch within your lips, the knot at his throat bobbing up and down as he tried to control himself from snapping up into your throat.

“I’m close-” he choked, his breath getting heavier as he approached his high. About to pull out as he cum, breath hitched at the back of his throat when you gripped him tight at the thigh as if you were warning him to better stay where he was. “You want my cum down your throat, is that what this is?”

He chuckled when you let out a muffled hum, your eagerness to please pushing him off the edge as he fisted your hair tightly, holding your still whilst spilling his load down your mouth. Your finger was circling your clit when he released you, watching as you panted right after swallowing the salty liquid pooling in your mouth. You lips were stained with red, the gloss leaving a thin film around your chin. Trail of white leaked from the corner of your lips from the cum that you couldn’t swallow and together with your flushed cheeks and glassy eyes, the whole sight made him feel the similar itch once again.

His arms were strong as he leaned down to scoop you up, pulling you up to his chest as he captured your lips in a heated kiss. He could still taste some of the mint that was left together with his release. He groaned into your lips when you went to weave your fingers into his jet black hair.

Flipping you over with ease, you giggled as he peppered kisses down from your lips all the way down your neck as he crawled off of you. A hint of dangerous amusement glowing in his eyes as he whispered against your skin.

“Stay here while I go clean up the mess you made on me,” he fisted his cock in hand, feeling the stickiness from the red marks you left on him, “and when I come back, I better see you all naked and spread out for me.”

You shuddered at the gravel in his tone, letting out a soft squeal when he pressed his hand against the dark patch at the cotton of your panties.

“I’m not done with my payback just yet.”

#kuroo x reader #kuroo imagine #kuroo smut #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu smut

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kookicat · 3 years ago

Text

To Bid Goodbye to the Past

The cell is dark and damp, walls running with fetid water that pools on the floor and yet the dark-haired man lounges on the thin wooden bench like it's a throne. He's unkempt; greasy hair slicked back from his face, dark stubble on his sunken cheeks, wrists poking out from the too short sleeves of the jumpsuit he's wearing.

The jail is buried deep underground and the artificial light flickers, casting a sickly yellow glow over everything. Wonder if they ever turn it off? Eliot thinks as he stares in silence at the caged man. I bet they don't. This is where the monsters live. Better to keep the lights on, so you know where they are.

For anyone else, Eliot would feel pity. Outrage, even, because he's spent enough time in cells just like it to know how fucking miserable it is. But for Damien Moreau, all he can feel is a tired sort of revulsion. They won, beat the other man and yet Eliot knows that the job isn't over. Even behind bars, Moreau is too much of a risk to leave alive. Some gullible or desperate or naive fool will come along and the man will get a phone, will get time outside, will get a visit to the hospital and all hell will break loose again.

Eliot can't bear the thought of Moreau coming after his people. Can't bear the thought of being out in the world, thinking that he's safe, that he finally managed to leave his past behind and seeing Moreau. He's spent enough nights waking up in a cold sweat because of the man, doesn't want to spend any more trying to shake off a nightmare in which Moreau plays a starring role.

He stops, two feet away from the steel bars, keeping his hands loose in front of him even though they ache to feel the comforting weight of the gun he's carrying, tucked snuggly unto a holster in the small of his back.

"Hello, Eliot," Moreau says, and Eliot has to fight off a shudder, because they're back to first names and there's something too damn intimate about that.

"Moreau," he says, damn glad that all the time he's spent around Sophie lets him keep the shake out of his voice. He sounds bored, if anything, and the flash of annoyance on Moreau's face is worth the effort it's costing him not to take a step back.

He can't pinpoint exactly when his life started to go to hell, can't look at one single moment and say there, that's when the first bit of my soul was ripped away, but he knows for damn sure the process only sped up in Moreau's employ. The worst thing I ever did was for you, Eliot thinks, and tries not to remember the wrecked car with a child seat that absolutely should not have been there. It's no good because the emotions are churning inside of him and he knows if he lets one tiny hint of it show, Moreau will use it against him. He blinks long, once, and focuses on the anger, because right now that's the safest emotion he has.

"Are you here to kill me?" Moreau asks, a thread of arrogant amusement in his voice, and leans back in a way that, in other circumstances, would have been a blatant invitation.

"Yes," Eliot says and draws the gun. It's a beautiful weapon- a SIG Sauer P220 Combat- and a gift from Quinn, who has his own reasons for wanting Moreau dead.

"Do your precious team know you're here?" Moreau asks, and straightens, keeping a wary eye on the gun even as he pokes at Eliot's defences, trying to find a hole.

There isn't one, because that's what being part of a team does, fills in the gaps. He's learned a lot from them; Sophie taught him about emotional strength, Parker how to leap without worrying about the consequences, Nate just how important family is, even if that family is bound by something other than blood, Hardison just how much of weapon kindness can be, if it's wielded correctly and he plans to use that now.

"Yes," he says softly, even though they don't, because while they'd probably understand, it wasn't a risk he wanted to take and pulls the cheap burner phone from his pocket. "One call. Say your goodbyes."

Moreau catches the phone, one handed, and tosses it back. "You know I have no one to call," he says, and stands, which is what Eliot wanted.

Could put one in his gut and walk away, Eliot thinks, because there's something darkly appealing about leaving the man to suffer, but the person who could do that died under the team's influence and he knows nothing but a clean kill will do. "Then maybe you shouldn't have been such a bastard," he says and closes his finger gently around the trigger. The shot is deafening, bouncing off the walls and Eliot makes the noise worse by firing again.

Moreau staggers backwards, one hand lifting in disbelief to touch the blood pouring from his chest before he crumples backwards onto the narrow wooden bench. They are fatal wounds and yet Eliot knows the fear in him won't go away until the man is on his way to hell. He fires again, ears ringing from the sound and finds even with all of his training, even with just how much he doesn't like guns, he can't get his finger off the trigger. The gun clicks, clip empty and Eliot blows out a shuddering sigh of relief that feels disturbingly close to a sob. Seven shots, at close range, make a hell of a mess and Eliot knows there's no way Damien Moreau will ever bother them again. It takes him two tries to holster the gun; he's shaking, adrenaline racing through him, the relief so heavy and profound that it's almost unbearable. Part of him wants to be ashamed of what he's just done, because he made promises to himself that he's just broken six ways to Sunday - no more guns, no more killing- but he just can't find it in himself to feel bad in any way. They're safe again, because even with all of the team's skills, Damien Moreau was too big a threat to leave alive.

"Rot in hell, you motherfucker," he says and walks away without looking back.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32544466/chapters/80724325

Full fic here (the second part is on here but man, I can't find it)

#leverage #eliot spencer #whump #emotional whump #damien moreau #fan fiction #fanfic

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bl00dgutsgl0ry · 4 years ago

Note

prompt 16 from the angst list w/ childe (“you’ve changed”) but is it possible to have a happy ending 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Pairing - Childe/Tartaglia/Ajax x Reader

Warnings - None I don’t think?

Word Count - 2.5k

Other Comments - I’ve tried to write this like five times now oh my god, also yes I know the header looks dumb I slept on it and now I hate it but I didn’t wanna make you wait any long I’m so sorry! ANYWAY I love this prompt and I love writing angst with all my heart hehe. ENJOY! No I did not proof read this I am currently late for work LOL

Life used to be so simple when you were younger. You had a lovely close knit family, you went to a great school, you had great friends. All around you were a happy little kid. The best thing you will ever remember from your childhood was your best friend Ajax. Everything was so simple.

Ajax was the poster child of a “perfect kid”. He was well liked by his teachers and peers, he had superb grades, he was becoming a young prodigy in his combat class, and above all, he was your all time best friend. You two were inseparable ever since you had met when your parents had all gotten to know each other once at an event.

No one ever really saw one of you without the other, and if they ever did come across such a sight, it would never last long. You two also almost went through the entirety of school being in the same class, and if you weren’t, Ajax would always find a way to catch you right as you were being dismissed. You two had the most innocent yet cliché childhood friendship, as you two played with each other or hung out day after day.

“One day (y/n) I’m going to marry you! I promise!” Ajax enveloped you in a hug as the two of you giggled.

This lasted for quite some time, that was until Ajax had turned eighteen. His combat skills had skyrocketed since his adolescent classes and competitive matches. Combat came like second nature to him, and that didn’t go by unnoticed. Very quickly Ajax got an offer for a job, one that he would never tell you details about. You remember the shock that enveloped you when Ajax excitedly spouted the good news to you.

You didn’t know whether to be happy or sad. You wanted to be happy for your childhood friend because this was an amazing offer for him, and an incredible opportunity to keep growing. But on the other hand you wanted to be sad because you knew you would see him less and less as time went on, not only that but you were still just so uncertain about this job. Ajax never withheld information about what was going on in his life until now; what if he got himself into something awful? Nonetheless you quickly plastered a shocked and excited expression on your face, as you rambled different forms of congrats and praise for being so good. Before Ajax left to go back to his home you gave him the tightest hugged and made him promise to stay close. Ajax was floored that you valued your friendship with him so much you would make him promise something he would never give up.

Time had passed and you noticed yourselves slowly drifting apart. It went from calling each other less, to only texting, then to texting less until you guys barely talked. You understood Ajax was busy, but it still stung seeing you what you thought would’ve been your life long friend slowly forget about you. That was until you had received something in the mail with a very familiar name on it. Ajax.

A small black box containing what looked to be a hand made scrappily hammered ring along with a letter at the bottom landed on your desk in your bedroom, assuming one of your parents must’ve dropped it off in there. All doubts about Ajax in your mind had been eased as you delicately slid the heavy polished ring on your finger. After you did you giggled in excitement as a delicate pink blush found its way to the tops of your cheeks and ears. You had almost forgotten about the note neatly folded, awaiting to be opened and it’s contents to be discovered.

You gently unfolded the letter, almost scared that you’d rip it. Inside was the most beautifully written borderline love letter you had ever read, it was almost like romantic poetry, and at the very end was a sentence you wanted to burn into your memory ‘remember that promise?’. Your mind was immediately flooded with all the fond memories you had with Ajax, blushing more and more as you uncovered them. By the end of your daydream session butterflies were fluttering around excitedly in your stomach. You didn’t want to be friends with Ajax anymore. You wanted to love him.

It had been years since you last heard from him. Not a day has gone by that you haven’t worn the ring Ajax had given you so long ago. You moved away from Snezhnaya after you turned eighteen, now residing in Mondstadt whilst you were going to college; you planned to move back after getting your degree but you made some great friends and the carefree culture of the windy city really called to you. Though after one of your parents' health took a turn for the worst you had made quick plans to go visit with your family.

It had felt like ages since you last stepped foot out into the familiar icy air, looking around to see the sheets of snow and ice covering the ground. Luckily the streets were plowed, which allowed you to maneuver through the city. Your visit has been great since setting foot in your childhood home. You were happy to be home for the time being, happy to relive the nostalgic moments of your younger days. Everything had changed so much since then. You had barely even thought about Snezhnaya or even Ajax for that matter despite wearing his ring every day, wanting to start fresh when you left for college.

You suddenly realized you had let your head drop accidentally dozing off, jerking yourself out of melancholy memories. You decided it was probably jet lag, but it was far too early to go to sleep so coffee sounded like a good solution. You remembered an old coffee shop you used to study at whilst you were in high school, that was conveniently within walking distance to your house. With a quick five minute walk to the outdoor shops that littered the local streets you lived by, you located the coffee shop taking a minute to stare at the outside. It hadn’t changed at all.

Smiling to yourself you walked in and politely ordered a coffee before sitting down at a high table by the window. The stand for the table had a heater built in, keeping you warm as you looked out the thin glass shielding you from the icy winds. You took in the old streets, smiling as you once again lost yourself in the nostalgia of everything. You hadn’t noticed a strikingly tall ginger walk into the shop, and you also hadn’t noticed the considerably loud gasp and call of your name. You only noticed the man's presence when he tapped on your table, causing you to jolt and promptly turn in his directly. It took you a minute to realize who you were staring at.

“(Y/n)? What the hell are you doing here?” Ajax. There he stood, at the side of you bent over at the hips slightly so he wasn’t completely towering over you. Ajax didn’t want to see you here. He didn’t want to see you at all. You were still fresh in his mind just like you were the last day he had seen you. He missed you. His eyes fell to your hand where he saw the ring he had made and sent to you still on your finger after all these years.

Your face was almost unrecognizable after all the time that passed, you had grown so much since then. Something unsettled Ajax about your demeanor, you were like an open book to him when you guys were younger as you wore your heart on your sleeve. Looking at you now though, there was no glimpse at the emotions you were feeling in this moment. Were you happy to see him again, since you wore his ring? Were you upset with him breaking his promise? Ajax couldn’t tell as you stared blankly at him for what seemed like ages, giving it enough time to make the air solidify and turn stale and uncomfortable. You finally shook yourself out of this trance you were in, as you suddenly stood up.

“Wha- Hey, wait a minute (y/n)! What are you doing here?” You didn’t acknowledge Ajax’s voice, subliminally yearning to fall into his strong arms. You were upset. How dare he ask you what you’re doing here. You weren’t the one who had completely abandoned everyone in your life for some sketchy job. You grabbed your coffee before swiftly beginning to exit. Something in Ajax was different. He didn’t really take kindly to you ignoring him, as you felt a vice like grip grab onto your wrist, causing you to flinch and whip around to angrily rip your arm out of his grasp.

“Don’t touch me Ajax! How dare you have the audacity to ask me what I’m doing here! This was my home! I didn’t abandon everyone I knew and loved on some sketchy ass whim!” Ajax stared at you. Were you joking?! Some ‘sketchy ass whim’?! You supported him when he first told you!

“What the hell is wrong with you (y/n)?!” Your eyes narrowed as you grit your teeth, you grip on your coffee tightening. Without even thinking you threw it in his face.

“What’s wrong with me?! You’re so fucked up Ajax! We were best friends and then you completely vanish from reality! You promised me we would stay close!” Now it was time for Ajax to grit his teeth. So you were upset with him about that.

“(Y/n) that was years ago!! We grew up! That was just a stupid childish promise!” As soon as those words left Ajax’s mouth, he went silent as his eyes widened in horror at his on voice. The entire coffee shop was silent as they all watched your argument break out. Ajax didn’t mean to say that, he knew he had fucked up his promise with you and he hated himself for it; he just didn’t know how to explain what he was doing without scaring you off or pushing you away. Turns out he was already doing that by vanishing. He wanted you to forget about him, he knew that when he took the job to join the Fatui and serve the Tsaritsa he would never be able to give you what you deserved. A normal and happy relationship. Ajax was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard a sniff and realized you were beginning to cry.

“Ah… So that’s what it was. Just a way to get me to get off your back. I suppose the ring served the same purpose? Whatever Ajax, you’ve changed and I don’t ever wanna see you again.” You quickly ripped the ring off before throwing it in the trash as you stormed out, trying not to audibly cry, as you had already embarrassed yourself enough in that shop. Ajax stood statuesque still. Holy shit he had made everything so much worse. He sighed before snapping out of his position to grab some napkins, to hopefully dry himself off before venturing back outside. He had to fix this.

It had been a couple days since your argument with Ajax and you were in shambles. This could not have come at a worse time. You were just happy that this Gods awful trip was coming to an end soon. You sighed as you flipped onto your back in your childhood bedroom, trying to reminisce on the old memories you had here, but all of them had gotten tainted by Ajax. He had ruined everything for you. You regretted everything with him, with getting so close to him. Tears had started to well up in your eyes but you quickly blinked them away before they had gotten the chance to fall. You hadn’t noticed before, but there was this weird tapping sound coming from your window; which caused you to anxiously investigate. You pulled your curtains back to be greeted with Ajax, who looked at you sheepishly. You blankly stared at him for a moment before closing the curtains and going back to lay on your bed, trying your hardest to ignore Ajax’s protests and calls of your name. After a while everything had gone silent, until your door opened and Ajax emerged one again.

“Uh… I’m sorry about coming into your room uninvited but one of your parents called me inside and said I could just come in. In hindsight I probably should’ve knocked before coming in and-”

“What the hell do you want Ajax.” You cut off the young man's babbling without looking at him, you were on your side laying down on your bed with your back facing him.

“I wanted to make everything up to you. I want to explain everything and I want to tell you about my job finally.” Ajax was hopeful that you would allow him the opportunity to explain himself.

“No. Now get out of my house.” Ajax’s heart sunk. No… No no no you had to let him explain himself, he needed to explain. He needed you.

“Please (y/n) I know you don’t owe me anything, not even your time, but please I owe you this.” You sighed, before slowly sitting up and facing him finally. You stared at him for a moment before speaking.

“Fine. But you have two minutes, so you better speak quickly.” Ajax’s heart fluttered. He spent those two minutes exactly, explaining everything that happened. You were silent for the most part, staring at your hand and you fiddled with your fingers. Ajax waited anxiously for your response. When you didn’t give him anything he took this as a sign to move onto faze two of his apology. For the last couple of days he had been running all over Snezhnaya spending preposterous amounts of mora. He had presented you with flowers and food; but above all he presented you with a ring.

“That is one promise that I am going to keep true. Please (y/n) forgive me and make me the happiest man in the world and marry me.” You stared at him with large eyes and Ajax took a hold of one of your hands and gently slid the beautiful ring onto your ring finger. Tears once again began to well up in your eyes, and suddenly your arms were wrapped around his torso as you cried into his chest. You missed this. He still felt the same way he did when you hugged him last, he even smelled the same.

“Is that… A yes?” You nodded furiously, face still buried deep in his chest. You were willing to forgive him, but above all, you were willing to love him again.

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sunfloweroranges · 4 years ago

Text

𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕠𝕟 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕤𝕜𝕚𝕟

𝙰/𝙽

𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎!!

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚌.

𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖.. ✨

𝙼𝚢 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚡𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘 𝚒𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗!

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜:𝟸𝚔

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚖, 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜, 𝚋𝚒𝚐 𝚜𝚊𝚍

𝙴��𝚓𝚘𝚢!

𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

A shaky breath escaped their lips, with a small puff of steam, the air wasn’t that cold, it was so late though. The moon was far up on the star littered sky, but their eyes didn’t see them… Their hands fiddled with a ring of keys trying to see through the blur of tears which key to use, but when the keys fell from their hands so did the tears from their e/c eyes. Today was the worst, first the work, too many clients, almost every each one was yelling and angry at them for no reason or for a reason they didn’t control. Then the way back home, they caught a flat tire and stood on the busy highway for hours trying to find a way to change it just to find no internet signal while trying to look for youtube tutorials.

They did end up calling a roadwork help, of course it wasn’t cheap and they were questioning if their rent would be paid from what they had left. The workers weren’t nice either, all over rude and belittling. When y/n go back on road they had to drive another additional half an hour, because the mechanical shop was in the opposite direction. They placed the top of their hand to their mouth trying to hide the ugly cries, muffling them in process as well.. It was the small things that kept on piling up lately, from awful customers to even the smallest things, like takeout missing a piece of their order or even worse, messing up or missing part of their partners order, then to add salt to the bruise, they realized the mistakes or missing pieces halfway home. · · · · · ·

Y/n crouched to grab the keys, the concrete floor cold and disgustingly wet against their fingers, they quickly picked up the key, having a small raccoon charm hooked on it, the little plushy reminded them of their lover, the most gentle and kind person they knew, they shakily brushed the small plushy as clean as they could with their hands, while the tears blinded their vision between blinks. While quiet sobs left y/n, the door softly clicked and opened, Choso standing behind them with his messy hair and the tired eyes, that somehow looked livelier whenever he saw his beloved. His gaze looked around his eye height vision, where he expected their dearest to be, but, they weren’t there, rather, when his eyes slipped down he saw the shaking, crouched figure.

The familiar mess of h/c strands, shaking, in worse than ever disarrangement immediately flared an alarm in the towering male’s head, he crouched down and brushed his hands on their shoulders. “Y/n? Come inside, you’ll catch a cold if you stay out.” His words resonated like an echo in y/n’s mind, their head crowded with terrible thoughts like a horror ride with only a terrible end, but these words, the familiar voice they heard was like a sharp turn to a much calmer ‘ride’. They barely moved, all they did was tip forward, onto their knees, dirtying their pants from the wet concrete that felt unbelievably spiky on their legs.

Choso didn’t hesitate to catch the tilting lover in his arms, when these things happened he already knew what was going on. These shut downs happened very rarely for y/n, but when they did, all Choso could do was be patient and gentle towards his beloved, they talked about it ever since the first one happened years ago, when they barely met and y/n messed up their work project and had a lot of inside rumble piling up for a while. The male gently picked up y/n in his arms, with a grunt getting up and shutting the door with his foot almost stumbling to the ground but luckily catching balance.

Y/n kept on clinging to their keys and the raccoon plushy, even though their safe heaven was right there, holding them close, in these moments y/n curled up, didn’t speak, barely moved and would love to become invisible for the time being. These moment were like a last straw for their sanity and patience. From these moments they couldn’t come out themselves unharmed, but ever since Choso learned and grew to care for Y/n out of his own loving and kindness towards them, y/n survived these storms calmly and safely, even if the saving was from their own self. · · · · · ·

Choso knew one thing, silence was the worst that could happen now, it gave space, space that surprisingly quickly could be filled with the worst nightmares and most gruesome scenes by y/n’s troubled mind. The click of a kettle ensured to add a new noise, the blackette had already put on some soft playlist that y/n enjoyed, the rumble that slowly got louder was just one of the few factors that would help ground y/n. His beloved that was now curled up on the couch, waiting for Choso to appear again while ‘Leave me in Amsterdam’ played from the Bluetooth speaker on the table. Choso’s gaze softened seeing how Y/n, now drowning in his hoodie, that was still warm as he was wearing it just a moment ago, cradled the raccoon plush that Choso took off of the keys and promised to wash and dry tomorrow.

The water rumbled as its temperature rose, the pigtailed male walked up to the soft brown couch an crouched in front of y/n, gently placing his hands on their knees that were pulled close to their chest, his gaze, so soft and loving, so caring, everything he did towards y/n was as such. Choso gently brushed the thumb of his left hand against the thin material on their knee, y/n had to be helped, but got changed into more comfortable clothing and out of the dirty pants they had on. · · · · · ·

“A few years back, I remember you’ve asked me about my favorite flower… I asked you to guess, and you said Sunflowers. Truth be told, I didn’t have a favorite bloom, but ever since you’ve said that, I can’t help but look at the yellow pedals with a smile.” Choso’s voice as quiet, a gentle tone, reminiscing and confessing, another gentle tug onto Y/n’s mind to ground. A pair of e/c glassy orbs looked to the black ones, their darkness enticing, but somehow, keeping it shallow with their caring gaze, though blurred through the salty tears that balled in the corners of y/n’s eyes at these words.

A soft sob escaped their throat, their eyes feeling hot with tears and their nose runny as they curled into themselves more, their body tensing and limbs shaking as they clutched onto the small plushy, their knuckles turning white. Choso’s brows twitched in worry, just for a moment he thought he did something wrong, but seeing how y/n’s face changed just a bit, the tiniest way that their brows curled, he knew that they were just emotional, that these tears weren’t as sad, but rather touched the most vulnerable part of his lover.

The black haired male gently lifted on his feet and rested his knee on the edge of the couch, if he learned one thing, it was that even if these things that he did, seemed useless, they worked, bit by bit, slowly reeling in the loving and kind and sometimes too loud for most people’s liking y/n that reminded him a little of Yuji, that he knew and loved. · · · · · ·

The feeling of weight, of touch, of warmth.. The feeling of someone else, the feeling of Choso, it felt so foreign, so new and yet so safe and familiar. His arms have wrapped themselves around y/n, when they unveiled themselves from the curled up bean they’ve become because of crying. Their eyes burned and their nose did too from too much rubbing, but it didn’t matter, not when the soft lips kissed their eyelids soothingly, not when his kisses felt like the cure for any possible ache.

Y/n felt the tenseness of their body hurt, this tense shut façade that they subconsciously clawed at to hold up. Y/n was afraid, scared to show their vulnerability, shutting down, unable to speak nor show what was wrong. With Choso around things were different, with him they could slowly grow and show the weaknesses, say what upset them with no fear of judgment, or keep silent and be sure that he wouldn’t leave, he wouldn’t judge, that Choso would simply be there, support y/n in the ways he knew could help, even if just a little, even if it was just a millimeter pull away from the edge of a breakdown.

The next factor, the warm cup in their hands, the keychain raccoon hung off of their finger as they held the mug with two hands, they took a small sip, a simple tea, a warm beverage, not too sweet, not too bitter, the perfect tea just the way they liked it most. Choso knew just how to make it, and he also knew, after y/n told him, that drinking something, the warmer the better, makes their throat hurt less, as when they shut down their throat tensed and shut in a way speaking wasn’t possible, but drinking soothed it, not permanently, but definitely helped even just for a moment.

The soft breeze, cold, icy air making their breaths turn into small clouds before fading away. Y/n sighed shakily looking at the star littered sky, immediately spotting their favorite, orions belt. Choso took Y/n out, on the roof of their apartment complex, the sky looked so beautiful, here where the streetlamps didn’t work, here where the area was pitch black, the stars looked so bright, the milky way stretching across the sparkling roof.. Y/n hid their hands withing the long sleeves of the hoodie, slowly, the cold air grounded them, the smell of ground, of the nearby forest, of the world, cold, but refreshing, like a breath of life into the shell of their mortal body.

Choso looked to his beloved, his arms wrapped around them as he sat on the edge of the roof with an old blanket under them to keep them separated from sickly cold concrete of the roof. His dark eyes reflected the stars, but y/n’s showed him the most hidden and breathtaking galaxies, his hand gently resting under the dark hoodie y/n cuddle into, gently pulling the h/c figure close his fingers mindlessly mapped out the beauty marks on their side, he knew all of them, where each one was embedded into the vast universe of y/n’s skin.

He knew they would sometimes feel insecure, loose grounding, shut down, or have a bad day overall, but these moments just helped him prove y/n that truly, he wasn’t going anywhere, especially not away from the one he loved most. Y/n sniffled again, this pulled Choso out of his thoughts and mindless staring into the sky, his hand didn’t waver as he connected the small constellations on y/n’s skin “The Sky herself, is envious of The Constellations on Your skin”

With these words the sobs softly began again, but this time, y/n leaned into the awaiting embrace of the dark haired male, he didn’t expect it, he didn’t expect anything from y/n, not even letting him care for them. This time like many others, y/n managed to surprise him. Three soft squeezes onto his shoulder. That’s all it took for him to remember their little codeword, causing a gentle smile to break out onto his lips he buried his face into y/n’s hair and whisper, where no one else could hear, where the sky herself was watching them from above…“I love you too…”

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

@ryosmne @love-amihan @falling4fandoms ||if youd like to be added to the tag list, comment, send an ask or a dm :))

#𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕗𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕣𝔹𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕣𝕪ℂ𝕚𝕥𝕣𝕦𝕤𝔽𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕤 #choso kamo x reader #choso x reader #kamo choso #jjk x reader #choso kamo jjk #choso jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #choso fluff #choso x nb! reader #nb reader

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yuziyuanapologist · 4 years ago

Note

Idea for writing about Wen Ning: so when he was a kid and got his spirit (half??) taken, he must have woken up later, right?? What if you write about him waking up (presumably??) in Wen Qing's arms! OH and then in the burial mounds when he wakes up in Wen Qing's arms AGAIN. anyway that could be neat

anon you are a GENIUS! so i didn��t write this exact thing but its pretty close, ya got my lil brain whirring, so this is 4 times wen ning woke up with his sister by his side (and 1...uh).

1.8k words, gen, wen ning & wen qing. wei wuxian is there too i guess. content warnings for canon character deaths and sadness, we all know what we’re doing here by now. enjoy!

[AO3 link!]

Wen Ning is four years old, and when he wakes up, half his limbs are missing.

No - no, that can’t be right. He has two arms. Two legs. Four fingers and one thumb on his left hand, same again on his right. He’s wearing socks, but he can feel all ten of his toes wiggling.

No, he’s all here. Look, look, his body looks the same as normal.

Jiejie is asleep next to him, positioned as if she’d been kneeling at the side of the bed and fallen asleep when the hour had become too late - she never stays up too late, not like Wen Ning, who makes it a competition with himself of just how long he can keep his eyes open after the lights have gone out.

“Jiejie,” he tries - and - oh, maybe it’s his voice that’s missing? There was barely a sound to be heard just then, was there? He tries again - “J-ie -” he coughs, and the croak that he had been producing gives way to his voice once again. “Jie,” he says, and lifts one of his definitely-there hands to prod at her shoulder.

She stirs with a tremble. “A-Ning,” she gasps, looking at him with wide eyes.

Oh - maybe - maybe his eyes? Nose? Ears? Are they missing?

But he lifts a hand to each of them in turn, and finds them all intact - besides, he can sense just as normal, he can hear her voice and her worried gasps, he can smell the incense burning over on the table, and the herbs infused in the bowl of water now cold beside his bed. He can see his home, his room, everything as it should be in the early dawn light.

Then what is it that he’s missing? Perhaps - his hair? He lifts his hands to feel at the top of his head, to trace the strands down - but they go as far down as they ever have - farther, perhaps?

“Jie,” he can speak - but he doesn’t really remember how. “Jie,” his lower lip trembles and he reaches out helplessly.

Jiejie lets all her breath out in a rush, and scrambles forward, kneeling on the bed and pulling Wen Ning’s weak body up into her arms, squeezing him tight tight tight and making him the safest he’s ever been, always safe when Jiejie is here.

Safe, safe, he’s safe. He’s somehow not whole, but he’s safe.

He wasn’t supposed to come find Jiejie.

Well - he’s never supposed to come find Jiejie, because Zongzhu wants him to be independent, and Er-gongzi wants him to leave her alone because she’s doing important work for the Clan, and it’s all bigger than him and he’s in the way and he’s just a stupid kid with no sense and half a soul who’ll only ever be a weak cultivator, and he’ll only ever cause trouble.

So he was supposed to take the punishment, and stay in his room with sore red hands and not take anything for them, because that’s what happens when he interrupts, but it hurt and there was no one stopping him and -

Jiejie had snapped at him, of course. She always does, at first, and then she softens without showing it, and pretends to be stern when she fixes all his hurts.

And then she said - “A-Ning, have you been sleeping?” and he had looked down and away because Er-gongzi is fifteen and he thinks it’s funny when there are scorpions in Wen Ning’s bedchambers and Wen Ning isn’t allowed to tell anyone and he isn’t allowed to sleep anywhere else either.

And so Jiejie grabbed his hand tight - too tight, but caringly so - and pushes him towards her own bed, and tells him if he doesn’t lie down she’ll send him back to Dafan Mountain, so help her.

Now - he wakes up, blinking finally well-rested eyes, and she sits at the small table in the room, smiling soft relief that she hasn’t yet trained into sternness.

But despite the gentle nature of her expression, one hand rests against the table, tapping a silver needle against the wood - menacing, but not directed at him.

“While you slept,” she says, the softness already fading into malice. “I perfected an old technique that I’ve been working on.”

Tap, tap, tap.

“Er-gongzi won’t dare to disturb your sleep any longer.”

“A-Ning?”

At first - he is convinced that it must be a dream. “Jie,” he murmurs - more to silence the voices in his head than anything. They’ve been ringing for days - screaming, even - noises he can’t describe - some he can, the clunk of metal on metal - the breaking of bones - his own? - and knuckles hitting flesh over and over - blood rushing in his ears - pain - is that a sound, now?

He has been on his own in this cell for a while.

“A-Ning,” she’s more urgent now - breathless and scrambling towards him - oh, oh, it’s real, she’s here. She’s here. “Are you - are you alright?”

“Jie,” he smiles it around all the blood in his mouth. “I didn’t tell them anything.”

She doesn’t reply, her hands moving up to his face - she must be assessing all the damage done, all the blood he knows is still uncleaned. She’s seconds from tears - and pulls him forward, his head down onto her shoulder, holding on tight and stroking her thumb against his hair.

Like this - he relaxes, sighs out all his worry against her tattered robes, and lets himself be held. The comfort she brings is still strong despite the fact that she gives it with a shake to her arms and voice and breath now. Wen Ning turns his head further into her arm, and inhales - exhales - inhales -

“Is - is Wei-gongzi okay?” he has to ask. “And Jiang-gongzi? Did it - did it work?”

She doesn’t reply, but holds. Her thumb still stroking that gentle soothing motion against his hair, and perhaps the sign she is trying to give is for him to stay quiet for fear of who might hear, or for the sake of their peace in not thinking of it, but he has to know.

“Jie -”

“Fine,” she almost snaps it, but her voice is still soft and worn thin. “Both - fine.”

He could believe her. He wants to, and she doesn’t - wouldn’t lie, to him. But then - she - perhaps she doesn’t even - doesn’t even know for certain. At least she’s here. At least she’s here to give him tentative comfort, to pretend that he’ll be all right, that they both will.

“Jie,” he speaks again, through his own doubt. “D-do you regret - it?” He asks, wishing he could stop his voice from shaking. But through cold, through habit, through fear, he cannot.

He finds no surprise in the responding silence.

To wake up feeling as though he is without half his limbs twice in a single lifetime must be improbable.

Ah - no, that is not the whole truth to it -

His body comes into consciousness from the ground up - he’s already standing, wrapped around with heavy cloth, heavier than his body -

No, it is his body that he feels wrapped around him, skin wrapped around his bones like it doesn’t belong there, responding to his commands but as a dog to a master, not as flesh to mind.

Half of his limbs are not missing - nor were they last time - this is something else. Still, he counts.

Two arms, two legs. Four fingers, one thumb on his left hand. The same on his right. He is wearing shoes, but he can feel his toes wi- no, not wiggling, but at least responding. He blinks his eyes once - yes, he has them.

Ears - he can hear - he can hear everything - the holding of breaths, five heartbeats surrounding - and the crickets - and the grass rustling -

“A-Ning!”

Jiejie. She’s she’s - where is she? He can hear her - he needs her - Jiejie -

But the sound falls back to quiet, with the utterance of “Wen-guniang -” A warning. They’re warning her that -

What? What part of him is missing? He tries again - limbs, he knows. Eyes, too, and his hair - he can see his hair in front of his eyes. Then - nose? - yes, he does have it - but it’s - the air that rushes through it - it’s hollow. Unnecessary.

Mouth. Voice. He raises his head, and says the name of the first face he sees..

“Gon- Gong- zi -” he forces out. “Wei-gongzi.”

Wei-gongzi rushes towards him, hesitant as he reaches forward. “Wen Ning,” he says, a hand out to his shoulder, almost excited, almost happy - but not yet.

Then - a voice behind him.

“A-Ning.” It comes out as a breath, relieved and fearful all at once.

He turns slow - can’t seem to force himself to move any faster, try as he might, but he forces the movement of a neck that feels like it’s been frozen in place for - for - well it must be a while - and finally sees her.

“Jie.” He can’t get it to sound like how he wants it too. He can’t put all of the joy into it, not like normal. His body is frozen and stiffened and half missing and stuck, and he just wants to look at his sister because she’s here, she’s here, she’s telling him she’s here.

“It’s me, A-Ning, it’s your Jiejie,” she’s weeping as she strokes his cheek, her breathing heavy and gasping, and she pulls him forward - he can’t force his limbs to catch up, but he’s held.

He’s held, and, despite all that's missing, he’s safe.

He wakes screaming.

It’s the worst pain he’s ever felt - worse than - worse than anything, and it’s never ending, the back of his head being pulled open, the back of his mind slit, and poison pouring directly in through the metal.

But it’s poison that he’s come to need, and the taking of it hurts. The further back it's pulled, the more awareness he has of his body - he’s standing, out in the street -

It hurts -

And it’s raining -

The metal nails are scraping through him, ripping against bone and tearing through his scalp -

There are chains wrapped around his body, less him than the skin that wraps around his bones, and yet at the same level of his control. He is no more or less than he was before, but he is different -

He feels the metal leave his body, the nails pulled out of his skull. The blood still drips, his hair sticky with it, but he is freed from the poison's hand, he is in his own body and his own skin and his own chains -

And he is screaming in pain.

There is a hand on his shoulder, and the scream fades. A gentle hand, comforting, but -

With consciousness comes memory. The worst pain he’s ever felt becomes meaningless.

“Wen Ning,” Wei-gongzi is gentle. “Are you alright?”

Wen Ning wants to tell him what he had told him all those years ago. I feel - like I want to cry, but I can’t.

But - when he had said it back then - Jiejie had been there to hold on to him.

And now -

He is missing half his limbs.

#thank u lovely anon!!!#wen ning #the untamed #the untamed fic #anonymous #ask #fic*#mine #mdzsnet

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imnotusedtobeingloved · 4 years ago

Text

YOU GOT ME IN LOVE AGAIN

A/N: OMG!!!!!!!! Thank you guys for requesting a part two to this! You’re too sweet! I hope i could fullfill your wishes in this piece, lol, i spent so much time writing. I wanted to make this second part shorter than the first one, but guess what... it got just as long. So... wellp... have fun reading! Let me know what you think in the comments.

This is part two to “not enough” find part one here!

(PLEASE DON’T REBLOG!)

Warnings: Self-depriciation, loneliness.

Pairing: Zuko x f!Reader

Characters: adult!Zuko, Avatar Aang, Suki.

Requested: Yes!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, nor the gif. Credit to the owners.

Summary: Part two to “not enough”.

"I want to end our marrige, Zuko. It's over."

Your statement seemed to shake him to his core. He was lost. So very lost. Your throat burned as you watched the tears well in his eyes. "What?" he whispered, a sound so small, you almost didn't catch it. It was as if you'd stolen him the air to breathe. "But... But why? Where did i go wrong?" He seemed to restlessly search your broken expression for answers. "Do you-" he interrupted himself, barely able to speak his suspicion aloud. He didn't even want to think about it. It was too painful. "Do you not love me anymore?" He quickly burst out as soon as he'd gathered enough of the courage he had left to hear the answer. Both of your faces were stained with tear streaks by this point.

You'd never seen Zuko as fearful as he was right now. Not even in the worst nightmares you had endured. It would've felt less painful if he'd stuck a knife into your heart. You wanted to hug him. Run your hands trough his hair, wash the tears from his face, pull him close to your chest and tell him that it would be fine. Everything would be ok.

But it wouldn't be, would it? You'd made up your mind. But you couldn't give him the answer he needed. Of course you loved him. With every ounce of you being, you did. Your heart clenched, as you wordlessly turned around, taking a few steps toward the door. "My carriage is waiting," you told him.

"No! (Y/N)!" he grasped your upper arm, still not with force, just gently. "Please," his golden orbs were pleading you to stay. To explain. To give him another chance to right whatever he'd done wrong. "I'm sorry, Zuko," he watched, breath hitched, as you removed your wedding ring. It left reluctantly, clinging to your finger from the years of wearing. Today was the first time you'd take it off since becoming the Fire Lady. Forever.

You already missed it's familiar weight. You felt naked without it. But it had to be done. It was the last step to cut the string that tied you and Zuko together. One step closer and you could sense his scent of jasmine and leather. Your took his hand in yours. It was shaking, but his skin was still as soft and warm as ever. It hadn't met yours in ages. Your bottom lip wobbled, throat tightning once again, as you placed the symbol of your love in his palm, making his fingers close around it. It was done. His features were twisted with pain. Grief. He couldn't take it anymore. The Fire Lord fell to his knees. "Please," he said again, "I'm begging you,"

You felt lightheaded, distantly registering his arms being slipped around your waist and his cheek pressed to your stomach. "Do- don't," he hiccuped, "Don't leave me," his voice was filled with panic. You'd never heard him stutter before. Zuko had lost so much. Maybe too much for a regular human to bear. And now he was supposed to lose you as well?

You took a deep breath. Every part of your body was screaming to take back what you'd said. But you couldn't. "Zuko," you whispered, gently removing his arms. "We've won many battles together," his head hung low, when you pulled him back to his feet. "But we've lost the war,"

You allowed yourself you look at him one last time. You would forever remember the shared memories, the soft texture of his hair and his warm hugs on freezing days. And especially the love in his eyes, when he found your gaze through a room full of people. Moments when no one had mattered but you. "Goodbye, Zuko," you smiled through your tears, before you turned around and went. "Maybe one day you'll understand why i had to make this descision," he watched as you looked at him over you shoulder, and then slipped through the door, leaving the Fire Lord by himself. He stood there, silent, for a long time. Almost unmoving, twirling your ring between his fingers, as if it would give him the answers he craved. It was hopeless.

After you'd left, it was as if the world turned gray. And in time he realised it had started even before you were gone. Even when he hadn't seen you, he'd always been assured of your presence in the palace. He'd watch you sit in the gardens through the windows in his study, watch you sleep when he got to the bedroom late at night, before he had to leave early in the morning. But now there was... nothing.

And there continued to be nothing for months. No matter how much time went by, Zuko never forgot about you. Not one day went by, without missing you and reminiscing the years spent together. Often his sight would grow distant, a mysterious smile displayed to the world, while he was lost in memories. But a few moments later, when he came back into reality, the pain returned. He was a shadow of the man he once was. The Fire Lord had made many mistakes in his life, there was no doubt about that. But never had he punished himself as frequently and continuously as he did for losing you. He often wondered about your new life.

Where you happy? Healthy? Had you found someone new?

Zuko was aware that you had found a place in your old home. In Ba Sing Se. He'd pondered about the possibility to ask his Uncle if he'd ever seen you. If you visited the Jasmine Dragon. Or if you avoided any remaining connection to him at all. Caught up in his thoughts he mindlessly fished for the necklace under his uniform, usually hidden behind his armour. He'd started wearing it since you were gone. It was a thin, golden chain, and as he pulled it out a beautiful ring dangled in the middle. Your wedding ring. He twirled it between his fingers, just as he had when you'd left. He didn't know how long he sat there, paying no mind to his work for the first time in ages, until someone knocked at his doors. The necklace was put back under his clothes, where the soothing metal rested next to his heart. "Yes?"

A woman stepped in, a friendly smile on her face. She was a sight for sure eyes. "Avatar Aang and the Earth Kingdom Representative are here," Suki said, waiting for his next command. "Thank you, Suki," Zuko answered, crossing the room and following her to the council room. The Kyoshi Warriors were a true help to the palace. Thanks to them the assassination attempts slowly decreased, until they subsided completely. But still Zuko didn't get much more peace than before. The work of a ruler never ended. Right now the Harmony Restoration Movement rested on his shoulders, demanding hours of work. But the few hours of sleep he got, he spend dreaming of you. The first person he registered, standing next to the large map of the four Nations was the Avatar. "Aang," he said a friendly smile tugging on his mouth.

"Zuko! It's good to see you!" the Airbender answered, pulling him into a quick hug. "Where is Earth King Kuei?" They separated and Aang rubbed his neck. "He couldn't make it. Something about Bosco feeling sick," Zuko sighed. The affection between Kuei and Bosco was apparently almost as tight as Appa and Aang. "But we have an Earth Kingdom Representative!" he made a gesture, pointing to the other side of the room.

"Fire Lord Zuko," his eyes widened when he turned around to see you greet him with a traditional bow. "(Y/N)..." he stepped closer, as if an invisible force was pulling him towards you. Like to magnets, craving the contact. He hadn't been aware of you being a part of the Kuei's Royal Council.

"Should we start talking about the Movement?" Aang interrupted him before he could even attempt to get as close to you as he wanted. He hadn't felt the need to capture and gag the Avatar in a long time, but this was an exception. Or maybe he was only trying to ease the tension in the room. Finally Zuko agreed with a sigh, watching you from across the room.

There you stood, unreachable, on the other side of the map. So unbelievably close, and yet never close enough. Your hair was bundeled up into a common Earth Kingdom hairstyle and the body was covered by a beautiful gown, clearly made by the most talended tailor of the city. And yet something about it bugged him. The colors. It was a sea of green instead of the Nations ruby red, that had once hugged your frame. He missed seeing them on you.

"-ko?" he blinked. "Zuko?" Aang said again, trying to get the Fire Lords attention. He didn't realise that he'd been staring at you all this time, while you did your best to avoid his eyes. This felt like a dream. The only thing he didn't know was if it would turn into a nightmare. "Yes. Sorry," the Fire Lord quickly apologized, trying to redirect his attention back onto the task at hand. The negotiations turned out to be more difficult than it first appeared. Especially without having King Kuei's personal opinion on the matter. Clearly he and Zuko didn't see eye to eye anymore.

"What do you think, (Y/N) ?" Aang asked, after contemplating multiple optiones. You hummed and folded your hands. "I agree with the Fire Lord," you pointed to the affected Earth Kingdom territory. "The citizens of both Earth and Fire are intertwined right here. They've been working together. Starting families together. It would be wrong to seperate a family just because they consist of two Nations," The Avatar furrowed his brows, mulling over your answer. "I understand. I'm going to meet up with King Kuei immediately once i'm back in Ba Sing Se. Maybe we should-" The doors burst open. Suki ran in, grabbing a seemingly perplex Avatar by the arm and dragging him along with her. "Aang? You should come see this. I think something's wrong with Appa, or maybe he's just tired, but we should check it out immediately! We'll be right back!" Their departure seemed strangely suspicious, but he choose to let it slide. And suddelny he was alone with you.

You forcefully refused to meet his eyes. "(Y/N)," he said softly, daring to step just a little closer, but you raised a hand to stop him. "Please don't. You're the Fire Lord. We should remain professional," Zuko flinched. Each time you called him "Fire Lord" instead of "Zuko" a piece of hope died anew. "It's okay if you don't want to talk to me, (Y/N). I will accept that. But please listen to what i have to say. I will not bother you with any futher requests," You still didn't raise your head, though he saw a small nod. Zuko walked around the table to stand next to you, just like he did before you'd gone. "I think i know why you had to leave me. Your absence made me realize how awful you must've felt with me being in countless meetings. I neglected you, didn't i? I forgot to tell you, to show you, how much you mean to me. I want to apologize. For all the times you felt lonely. For all the broken promises. For all the missed opportunities. For all the heartbreak. I missed you every day, (Y/N). And i still do in this very moment," he confessed. His amber eyes silently searched your face for a reaction. Any kind of emotion at all. But there was nothing.

"You didn't miss me at all?" he whispered.

At last your gaze met his. "I missed you even before i was gone, Zuko," you stated, crossing your arms in front of your chest. "You have to accept that it's over,"

A humorless chuckle left his mouth. The sound of agony. "I can't, (Y/N)," his eyes watered slightly and he blinked to hold them back. "I tried, but... i just can't," you shook your head. The connection you felt to him, after all this time, was still there. You hadn't expected there to be nothing, but this was much stronger than what you'd signed up for. Zuko's chapter in your life was over. You'd forgiven his mistakes in the past months and were ready to move on. Going back to the way it was, wasn't a possibility. Being alone with him, seeing him, feeling him so close... It was overwhelming.

You had to get out of here. When he got closer once again, you sidestepped, not noticing the scroll that had fallen down during the earlier conversations. You gasped. Instead of meeting solid ground you foot slipped, sending you right into a spiral. But never touched the ground. Zuko caught you in his arms, pulling you into his chest.

In the small seconds he'd leaned forward to reach you, a small string of gold tumbled out beneath his uniform, catching your eye. "Are you alright?" he asked, searching your face for any discomfort. You, on the other hand, were thinking about something completely different. "Is that... my ring?" He looked down at himself, seeing the jewlery he'd carried along for months. "It is. Everything else was gone... i wanted to have a part of you with me," Now the bottled up emotions caught up with you. "Oh, Zuko..." you breathed, a single tear trailing down your face. He lifted a hand, wiping it away with his thumb, before pressing a featherlight kiss to your forehead.

"I'm so sorry, my love. Is it too much to ask for another chance? I won't give you a reason to leave again," You stepped away to look at his face, pondering quietly. "I can't go back to the way it was, Zuko," he reached for your hands, holding them delicately. "We won't," he promised, pressing his forehead to yours. "Let me prove it to you," You couldn't give him the same kind of faith. You didn't agree to anything, but you choose to wait and see.

One year later you found yourself resting on the soft, green grass, with the sun warming every inch of your skin. Zuko rested next to you, his face completely relaxed. You raised a hand, blinded by the sun, but a smile spread out on your face upon the sight of the ring that glimmered around your finger. You turned to your side, propped up on one elbow. Since the negotiations about the Harmony Restoration Movement with the Avatar, Zuko had been working endlessly... on your relationship.

A lot had changed. The original purpose of the Movement was defeated, but its collapse would lead to a peaceful and more integrated coexistence between all four nations. Thanks to the Fire Lord. After the idea to merge a United Republic of Nations, he’d taken a step back and cleared his scedule as much as he could to make time for you. Countless dates were arranged between the two of you and Zuko made sure that you had at least two days a week just for the two of you. Often his advisors would take over for him at certain times, as soon as he had a council of men he fully trusted. This also enabled him to get some much needed rest.

Who also took on more responsibility, was the Fire Lady. He had always been so focused, so sure that he had to do all the work alone, not wanting to burden you. But now that you shared it, everything seemed to be much easier. You raised a hand, bringing it up to his face and trailing a finger over his features. The deep, dark bags under his eyes that once had been, were gone. Zuko started to smile, getting tickled by your touch, tough he kept his eyes shut. You slid your hand into his hair, as he blindly reached for you, pulling you half onto his chest. You pressed a kiss to the mark on his face, an old habit, yet it never failed to make him feel better about it. “I’m so glad that you’re here with me, (Y/N)...” He mumbled quietly, finally opening his eyes. They shined golden, like the sun itself. So full of love and adoration that it was almost too overwhelming to look at. But you choose to fully embrace the moment. The warm climate, the soft grass, the turtleducks quietly paddling about in the pond, and of course your husband.

From the jasmine smell of his favorite tea, to his warm skin and his arms woven so tightly around your waist as if he never wanted to let go. “Me too,” you grinned, snuggling into his chest and looking up to him. His expression was one of pure joy and comfort, his smile more intoxicating than ever before. He looked every bit like the ruler he was. Still after all this time, your heart raced whenever he looked at you like this. You leaned up, pressing a quick peck against his lips, desprate for their taste. But Zuko wasn’t pleased. Before you could lay back down, he put a hand on your cheek, pulling you back in and kissing you deeply. His lips were hot. Soft. Irresitable. All your thoughts were washed away, as your senses were completely focused on Zuko. How he felt. How he tasted.

When you pulled away, completely out of breath and foreheads pressed together, you were caught up in each others presence. “I love you, (Y/N). So much,” he said, his voice hoarse from the kiss. “I love you too, Zuko,” you took his face in your hands, running your thumbs over his prominent cheekbones. All this time spend apart, you’d felt nothing at all, apart from trying to survive in the Royal Council of the Earth King. But Zuko had changed for the better again and turned you life around once more. You were not only in love with Zuko, you were in love with life. Something you hadn’t been able to feel in a long time. “You got me in love again,”

#zuko x reader #avatar zuko #fire lord zuko #prince zuko

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