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bratkook · 4 years ago

Text

not yet. jjk

not yet, almost, right now pairing. jungkook x reader genre. fluff, some angst, pg-13 word count. 4.1k warnings. mentions of infidelity, some feelings come to light, unrequited pining, spur of the moment kissing, light grinding on the dance floor, jungkook pops a boner and wants to cry</3 summary. jungkook feels the pang of guilt in his gut when you spot your recent ex out with his new girl, and what better way to make the jerk hurt than to have him believe you were now dating him, the neighbor he had been insecure about your whole relationship note. this is based off a request sent a while back for numbers #43 and #67 from this prompt list! (i think this might turn into a small drabble series...mayhaps)

Jungkook can spot your discomfort easily, the occasional colorful light bouncing off your face showing him the flash of anger in your eyes. The only reason he’s not currently running for the hills, knowing very well how mean you can get when angry, is because your glare isn’t being sent at him. Not yet at least.

Because of this, he allows himself to enjoy the cute way your nose scrunches up, lips twisting in displeasure as you stare at the crowd of people, eyes locked onto an unlucky bystander. Honestly, he wishes he could hear your thoughts, wanting to know exactly what has your panties in a bunch, ruining your mood instead of letting you enjoy the expensive fruity drink he had just bought you as payment for allowing him to drag you out of the house. Jungkook isn’t a mind reader though, so he decides on his next best option.

“Who’s got you looking all sour?” he sighs, resting his elbow on the counter of the bar as he inches closer to you, head at your level in an attempt to match your line of sight.

“Him,” you seethe, brows pinching together, showing those light wrinkles in between them, a product of how expressive you were and definitely something Jungkook always teases you about.

Jungkook can only hum in question, eyes squinting in the low light as he attempts to find the him you’re talking about. With a slight turn of your head, you’re inches from Jungkook’s cheek, the obvious look of confusion etched onto his soft features letting you know he was absolutely lost. With a soft huff your fingers are gripping his cheeks and moving his face in the right direction, free hand pointing as discreetly as you could to the man in question.

You know he spots him, you can feel his jaw tense underneath your grip. What you don’t feel is the sudden guilt that fills him up, sloshing in his stomach and mixing with the liquor he just drank until he feels a little queasy. Jungkook instantly regrets coaxing you out of your little dungeon with the promise of cheering you up. If he had known the spawn of satan–dubbed your ex boyfriend and also the reason why you were in a downward spiral–would be here, he would have just let you rot in your bed like you originally wanted.

“Do you wanna go?” he mutters out, cheeks still squished by your slowly tightening grip, and he begins to accept the fact that you might just break his jaw right now. It’s fine, he thinks, he deserves it.

“No,” you grunt stubbornly, fingers finally releasing him as you turn back around and choose to face the endless amount of bottles behind the bar. He may be the reason you were currently on a never ending cycle of watching sad, heartbreaking chick-flicks from the early 2000’s, dumping you with the lame excuse that you two were on different paths and he just wasn’t ready for commitment. It’s something you accepted, albeit jaw tense and eye twitching as you did so, but you figured you would eventually find your way back to each other.

Your mind was warped, believing you were meant to be, that this was just a mere bump in the road that you would laugh at together in the future.

That is, until he blocked you on all social media, and you had to hear from your best friend that he had moved on days later and was now with some blonde-haired, fresh faced, supermodel-esque woman that you could not get yourself to hate. Instead you took to endlessly scrolling through her instagram while you stuffed your face with milk chocolate and questioned why you had ever convinced yourself that you had a future with him.

“Good, he’s a dick and you shouldn’t let him ruin your night.” Jungkook grumbles, slinging his arm around you as you hold your forgotten drink by your lips. He had seen your relationship with Hajoon play out from the very beginning, knowing slightly more intimate details than he would like considering you were next door neighbors and happened to share a wall between your bedrooms.

The friendship you had with Jungkook blossomed right after you moved in four years ago, friendly neighborly talks morphing into actual conversations, and eventually inviting each other into your apartments where you would attempt to beat him at any game you had in your Nintendo switch. It was a great dynamic, providing the two of you with a sense of relief after your busy days at work.

Unfortunately, the second you got with Hajoon was the end of any of those playful matches, your ex’s jealousy making you distance yourself in an attempt to keep your relationship at bay.

Jungkook can’t say he didn’t see it coming, having heard the way you’d cry anytime you had an argument and your ex would leave, slamming the door behind him so hard Jungkook’s walls would rattle. It had become such a common occurence it was a shock he hadn’t marched out of his house, met Hajoon in the hall, and gave him a clean right hook in your honor.

He was secretly hoping you’d break up with the jerk for your own good��and maybe for his own personal reasons too. Your ex was right in being wary of Jungkook, knowing the way a boy's mind worked, sensing Jungkook’s feelings for you in a way you were too blind to see. Jungkook wasn’t a dick though, he could tell you wanted your relationship to work so he kept his distance.

When weeks went by without the sight of him he began to think you finally did it, a call for celebration that made him want to go over to your place to challenge you for a friendly match of Mario Kart like you used to.

Until he ran into you in the hall and took note of what a mess you were, his smile falling from his face when he saw how defeated you looked.

Your shameful confirmation that you had been royally dumped made his heart twist for you, his selfless tendencies urging him to help you feel better in any way he could. You were thankful for it, grateful that he was keeping you company while you moped around, providing you with just the right amount of distraction to allow you to breathe and slowly heal.

Honestly, today would have been just another day if it wasn’t what was supposed to be your two year anniversary. The second Jungkook heard the telltale sounds of The Notebook starting up in your bedroom—something he hadn’t heard through the drywall separating your rooms in weeks—is when he knew something was up.

Jump to: now.

With Jungkook looking sheepish and wishing he had chosen another bar, and you gripping the cup so hard it was a shock it hadn’t shattered in your grasp.

“He’s with her,” you whisper out harshly, head downcast, swirling the liquid around in your glass as you force yourself not to look back at them. The vision of them coddled up in the corner, her arms wrapped around his while she laughed at whatever he whispered in her ear had stung enough the first time, you weren’t jealous but the pain still lingered inside of you..

“Just try to ignore him. Don’t let it bother you,” he attempts to reassure you, the bass of the music muffling the way you try to deny the fact that you’re clearly upset, his attention now elsewhere.

Jungkook takes a chance and looks back once more, eyes narrowed as he searches for Hajoon in the crowd. He spots him with more ease the second time, seeing the way he lazily drinks from his glass while the blonde rests her head on his shoulder, lips moving as she tells him something that makes him smile.

“Oh shit,” Jungkook chokes, eyes widening slightly in shock when Hajoon meets his gaze. He’s been caught, too late for him to avert his eyes and pretend he wasn’t blatantly staring. He can only give him a tight-lipped smile that he hopes doesn’t come across as an invitation to come say hello.

“What?” you question, turning to stare at Jungkook and seeing the look on his face, doe eyes swirling with a mix of emotions.

“He saw me,” he speaks through clenched teeth, lips barely moving as he does so, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

“What?” you repeat harshly, setting the drink back down as your palms grow clammy, finger tugging at your shirt’s neckline when the air becomes thick and stuffy.

“Oh fuck, he’s coming.” Jungkook throws back the remainder of his drink, grimacing at the burn lingering in the back of his throat before placing the cup down. “Just follow along,” he whispers into your ear, standing tall as Hajoon approaches the two of you.

He’s ballsy, Jungkook will give him that, more so when he completely ignores Jungkook in favor of calling out your name.

“Y/N, oh my god is that you?”

Jungkook can’t stop the way he glares at the bastard, not even the small jab to his side that you deliver with your elbow is enough to wipe the look off his face. Still, you pause to breathe, shutting your eyes briefly before plastering a look of surprise on your features as you turn around to face him.

“Hajoon, what are you doing here?” Your voice has risen a few octaves, pitch surpassing the normal customer service voice and entering unhinged and borderline crazed territory. Hajoon doesn’t notice though, and neither does the girl strapped to his side, the two of them smiling at you and not giving Jungkook a glance.

“Oh, we’re just celebrating our four month anniversary.” The girl finally speaks up, giving Hajoon a kiss to the cheek and completely missing the way your face instantly falls. Her innocent statement has you coming to the sudden realization that this son of a bitch had been cheating on you for the last two months of your relationship.

Jungkoon spots it easily though, can sense the way your body tenses up beside him, no doubt will the rage flare up in the form of hot tears spilling over and onto your cheeks soon. One look at Hajoon’s pleased face is enough to not want to give him the satisfaction of seeing the way he affects you.

“Young love,” Jungkook sighs, long arm pulling you into his side obnoxiously, seeing the way Hajoon eyes the two of you carefully. “I can relate. We’ve been together for...what is it again babe, five months?”

Hajoon doesn’t even attempt to be discreet, eyes bulging out and fist curling at his side. He had hated Jungkook the second he met him, intimidated by his physique and the way he made you laugh with ease, threatened by him in every sense. It was the reason he told you to cut ties with him, his fragile ego not trusting your neighbor, fully convinced all Jungkook would have to do was beckon you over for you to leave him.

Any man would feel threatened by him, just looking at him now with his long hair framing his face, the challenging glimmer in his eyes as he gauges the other’s reaction. Hajoon follows Jungkook’s arm, seeing how it snakes around your body and settles with his palms curling around your waist, fingers gently squeezing your skin.

Jungkook chuckles when Hajoon meets his gaze once more, free hand adjusting the yellow tinted sunglasses perched on his head—something that should make him look like an A class douchebag, because who the hell brings shades to a fucking club. But like all things, Jungkook makes it work.

All of this tied in with that small, white lie, makes Hajoon’s head spin in a jealous whirlwind. It was fine and dandy if he cheated on you but how dare you give him the same treatment, with your neighbor of all people.

“Five months?” He bites first, eyes bouncing back and forth between the two of you.

The insecurity is written all over his face, it almost makes him shrink in size and for some reason it fills you with confidence. You stand taller now, sliding your own arm around Jungkook’s side as you nuzzle into him.

“Almost six.” Those two words are the nails into his coffin of insecurity, probably increasing his trust issues for years to come, but considering it was no longer your problem, you don’t care.

“Wow, almost half a year. That’s so cute, isn’t it?” His girlfriend coos, perfectly manicured hand placed over her chest, totally missing the way Hajoon looks like a kicked puppy.

Now that he doesn’t have the one up, he’s no longer interested in sticking around, the gross green monster perched on his shoulder laughing at his misfortune.

“Adorable,” he grunts out. “We should get back to our table. It was nice seeing you.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before walking away, his girlfriend giving you a small wave before following behind him. The growing distance between you makes your muscles relax, sagging in relief as you release Jungkook’s side and hunch over the sticky bar.

“I think I'm gonna puke,” you groan out, eyes going crossed when you feel Jungkook rest two fingers against your lips, sending him a questionable stare.

“Please don’t, that drink was expensive. You’re only allowed to hurl as the grand finale of the night, and we’re just getting started.”

Jungkook smiles when you shut your eyes and groan, your mood was already down in the dumps, and despite the small rush you got from putting Hajoon in his place, you were still craving the comfort of your bed. “Can we go?”

The bartender proceeds to place a glass of water in front of you, assuming your slumped state was due to intoxication and not the gross remnants of running into an ex-boyfriend. You grab the glass regardless, taking a big gulp of the cool liquid and sighing when it helps calm you down.

“If you really want to go we can, but at least try to loosen up.” His smile is genuine, cheeks pushed out as he looks down at you with kind eyes. “We’ll stay on the opposite side, and if you’d still rather watch the Notebook for the millionth time, we can do that.”

With a half-hearted groan you nod, allowing Jungkook to order another round of drinks for you to enjoy before eventually dragging you out onto the dance floor. He knows how to keep the atmosphere up, goofy smile on his lips as he bobs his head along to the loud beat, hands clasped with yours and wiggling in time to the music.

“You love this song,” he manages to say through the noise, pulling you closer as he settles into a spot on the decently packed floor. You couldn’t even deny it, he heard just how often you played it through the paper thin walls. That playlist full of hit 2000’s songs was your guilty pleasure, and it was the main reason he had decided to bring you to this club on their themed night.

Jungkook was attentive, he knew so much about you and played it off casually, always listening to things you say you enjoy, storing them into a folder labeled under your name and shoved into a very important part of his brain.

You knew he was trying his best to get you to enjoy yourself, so you give in, beginning to sing along to the lyrics of an old song that brought back a flood of memories that made you smile back at him. Jungkook feels the first burst of success bloom inside him, joining in with your singing, raising up your clasped hands as you begin dancing.

The smile doesn’t leave his face as he stares down at you, the few drinks you’ve had loosening you up and allowing you to push the earlier thoughts away. He feels mesmerized, eyes locked onto you, the flash of colors painting your skin, illuminating you in alternating shades of purple and blue. His heart does that annoying thing where it skips and stutters in his chest, mouth drying up as you drop your head back and sway your hips, slowly loosening the grip in your hands and turning around until your back is dangerously close to his chest.

Jungkook’s hands hover in the air for a moment, panic over taking his brain as he tries to remain calm. He could do this—he has done this before—the two of you would go clubbing before you got with your ex, and dancing definitely played a big part of it. So why was his brain short circuiting?

Sure your ass was brushing up against his crotch with each sway of your hips, but you were dancing, so his mind and his dick could fuck right off. He shakes his head to clear any dirty thoughts as his hands loosely grip your hips, testing the water, and when you smile and look back at him he feels less wary and sways his hips in time with yours.

You can feel his chest brush against your back, breath fanning along your skin from his close proximity, only getting closer when you lift an arm back and hold his shoulder to pull him tighter against you. The heat sticks to your skin, thin shirt dampening with sweat from the warmth of the bodies around you, everyone in their own state of drunkenness as the bass flowed through their chests.

Going out like this had been something you missed, used to frequenting the bars and clubs by your apartment with your friends and Jungkook, something that came to a halt because your ex claimed he hated that kind of scene. Something that was clearly a lie considering he was here now, enjoying himself as him and his new girlfriend danced along.

You didn’t realize when he made his way onto the dance floor, enough distance separating you, but now that you had spotted him you feel like he’s way too close for comfort. In a similar position to you and Jungkook, Hajoon is free to look around while his girlfriend dances on him, eyes locked onto you with a smirk that makes your skin crawl.

Jungkook is too lost in the music to notice where your attention has gone, earlier effects of the alcohol settling into his bloodstream, warming him up in that familiar way he welcomes. When the song changes, flowing into the next bass heavy anthem, you turn around in his grasp, giving him a brief glance before your hands are gripping his cheeks and bringing him down into a messy kiss.

This is definitely something he’s never done with you before.

A muffled sound of confusion is swallowed by you as he quickly falls into the motion, large palms gripping your hips, slowly sliding up your back before lightly tangling into your hair to deepen the kiss. Jungkook can taste the liquor on your tongue, mixing with his own as your tongue slips between his lips. He has no idea what came over you but his racing heart and buried crush don’t let him question it, soft lips smacking with yours, not heard between the thrumming music.

Your fingers feel the warmth of his cheeks, how he blushes into the kiss but you attribute it to the alcohol pumping through him. Harsh breaths fan across your face as he groans, lightly pulling back for a gasp of air but you don’t allow it. “No, don’t pull away. Not yet.”

And who is he to argue with that, blindly letting you bring your lips back together in a messy kiss. Your small pleas for him to continue has all the blood rushing to his cock, the ache felt in his jeans when it starts to harden, pressing into the denim uncomfortably and only getting worse when you gently bite down onto his lip before inching back.

“Is he still looking?” you question, breath jagged as you peer up at Jungkook’s dazed expression.

“What?” he dumbly replies, lips swollen and shiny, eyes still focused on your own as he makes an attempt to reconnect your lips. But then your question dawns on him, like a bucket of ice cold water, it sobers him up instantly. Is he still looking?

This was all for show.

“He’s on the far right.” You motion your head in the direction and observe his face when his eyes move over to check if Hajoon was in fact still there. He does spot him heading out in a hurry though, girlfriend trailing behind him as he exits the club entirely

“No, just saw him leave.” Jungkook clears his throat, fingers slipping out of your hair and settling down over your back just like before. He hopes his solemn expression isn’t amplified by the lights flashing across his face, trying his best to act unaffected, as if he didn’t just pop a boner on the dance floor over a revenge make-out session.

Luckily you don’t spot his fallen expression, a wide smile spreading across your face in victory, happy that you had successfully put him in his place.

“I’m so sorry for kissing you.” You gasp in realization, unknowingly pouring salt in the wound when you act as if kissing him was something you would never do if it wasn’t in an attempt to piss off your ex.

“No, it’s okay,” he waves off and smiles, eyes glancing over to the bar once more. Jungkook needed a drink, maybe five—actually he wouldn’t mind going home and watching The Notebook now, that would surely give him a reason to cry with no questions asked.

He starts to walk back to the bar with you by his side, the sad look you had earlier entirely gone, replaced with a giddy smile and a pep in your step, so he can’t say he's too upset.

“God, you should’ve seen how mad he looked when he saw us dancing together,” you giggle, standing inches from him as he orders another drink. Before he can respond, you’re wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him in for a hug.

A hug, really?

Still, Jungkook sighs and wraps his own arms around your waist, a defeated smile on his face that he hides as he lets his chin rest over your head. The dip in his head makes the yellow tinted frames fall over his eyes and when he pulls back you snort at the visual, finger gently poking the bridge of them.

“You look good in those.”

His drink gets placed in front of him then, giving him a good excuse to avoid stumbling over his words from your compliment, choosing to take a gulp of the hard liquor, wincing when it burns his throat. “Thank you,” he rasps out, grimacing at the taste and it just makes you giggle.

“I should be thanking you. You need to be my fake boyfriend more often.”

Even more salt poured into his wound, topped with a dash of lemon juice in the form of your playful smile and nudge to his ribs, it stings. His heart ache in his chest, more so when he realizes his stupid boner was still going strong. Thankfully the dark lights prevent you from seeing it, the last thing he needed was further embarrassment.

The yellow frames are placed back over his head as he takes another sip, nodding along to your statement with what he hopes comes across as a genuine smile on his lips once he sets his cup down. “Anytime you want Y/N.”

“I know this night didn’t end with the grand finale of me puking, but do you wanna go home and watch movies? No sappy romance ones, I'm not in the mood for crying anymore.”

He finishes his drink with ease, quickly closing his tab as he agrees. “Yeah, just let me go to the bathroom real quick.”

You might not be in the mood for crying but he definitely was; he also needed to handle the situation in his jeans, and what better night to stoop this low than tonight. His own version of a grand finale coming in the form of jerking off in the dirty bar bathroom while maybe shedding a tear or two.

“Okay! I’ll call an uber,” you announce cheerfully, allowing him to walk away as you settle onto one of the sticky bar stools.

Jungkook’s chest feels heavy as he walks to the bathroom, slipping into the small room and locking the door behind him. His forehead rests against the dirty door, eyes falling shut with a groan. He wishes he had the guts to confess to his crush, needing to push the fear of ruining the friendship away from his mind, wanting to gather possible clues that could indicate that you might feel the same.

One day, but not yet.

#ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #heartsforbts #btsghostie #bangtaninn #btscreatorscorner #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #bts fluff #jeon jungkook #bts imagines #new

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hotch-stufff · 3 years ago

Note

Possibly a Hotch imagine where he is dating an artist and he finds her drawing him and Jack ?

Is That Me?

gif by nerddivision

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Warnings!: none, literally all fluff :), well ig kissing, curse word or two

Description: Hotch finds a drawing you did of him and Jack. Will you tell him how you feel, or brush it off as nothing?

Author's Note: I LOVED this request. I did switch it up a bit, reader is Hotch's best friend. Sorry, I just really wanted to throw a love confession in here!! Hope you guys enjoy reading and I hope its what you wanted!!

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You loved to draw. You always have. It was one of your favorite things to do.

You would do it while doing paperwork, or on jet rides. You would draw to help calm you down, or even just to keep yourself busy.

Point is, you were always drawing something.

But you never drew people. Or atleast you never showed others your drawings of people. The whole team knew that.

They never turned out the way that you liked. You would always end up messing up a facial feature. Or you would draw the hands wrong. A number of things would go wrong.

That was until you decided to draw your boss, and best friend, Aaron Hotchner.

It was no secret to the team that you had somewhat of a crush on the man. You hadn't done a good job hiding it. But it was still very oblivious to the man in question.

He had quickly become one of your closest friends after you joined the team. You guys would often hang out at each other's houses on the weekends, or you would just sit around at the park with Jack.

You just loved spending time with eachother. Which had led to the feelings.

But of course you didn't know he had felt the same. The team did though. And of course they were going to meddle. Thats just who they are.

Anyways, you had gotten the idea for the drawing of Hotch about 4 weeks ago.

You had all been at Rossi's for a dinner, children included, and Hotch had been sitting there with Jack in his lap. He had this look of pure adoration as he listened to his son tell a story and he had this bueatiful smile adorning his face. You just couldn't look away.

Now, similar to Reid, you had a photographic memory. It wasn't the same as his eidic memory, but similar.

That image had stayed printed in your brain. You remembered that exactly moment, and it stayed there for 2 weeks before you began drawing.

There was a lot of erasing and starting over. But you kept going. The team would catch glimpses of the drawing, but never enough to know what it actually was. You especially made sure to keep it hidden from Hotch, only working on it in the office when his door was closed.

When you finished the drawing, you put it in the top drawer of your desk, knowing no one would go through it. You kept it there for weeks. Adding bits and pieces here and there to add to the beauty of the drawing. It had probably been one of your best pieces. But you kept it hidden.

Until of course, Morgan found it.

He had seen it in your desk when he went to borrow a pen, without pernission. He had taken it, and walked quickly to Garcia's office. They had been trying to get the two of you together for months.

"Babygirl, I think I just found how we can get them together." He had said walking in without knocking.

"Of course you did." And they worked out a plan, bringing in Prentiss, JJ, Spence, and Rossi.

After planning and then going over everything, everyone gathered in the bullpen. Morgan walked over to you, a little too chipper.

You gave him a suspicious look, co fused as to why he looked so giddy.

"Hey sugar, want me to take your paperwork up?" You looked down at the finished pile of paperwork, and back up at Morgan.

"Suuure." You slowly said. Still very suspicious, but allowing him to take the pile. Soon he was walking off, with his own paperwork as well, marching up to Hotch's office. He opened the door and disappeared from your sight.

With a roll of your eyes, and a lasting glance, you turned away. You had completely forgot about the whole interaction, and had gotten back to work.

You got bored with that quickly and about 2 hours later, you opened the top drawer of y I ur desk, so you could work on your drawing.

Only it wasn't there.

It was gone.

You began frantically searching each and every drawer. Opening and shutting each one as your rummaged through everything. You checked your bag, the trashcan, your floor. You went through each and every piece of paper on your desk.

But it was gone.

"Y/n, is everything okay?" Prentiss asked from across the desk.

"No. Um, I-I lost something."you were freaking out, if anyone saw that, it would be disastrous. You could lose your job, your friendship. And if Hotch every saw it, he would probably think it was creepy.

You continued to search looking through each like of paperwork.

But then you realized. You had sent a pile with Morgan.

Morgan had taken it to Hotch.

Hotch.

Son of a bitch!

You were up and out of your seat in less than a second, sprinting up to Hotch's office and throwing it open.

You expected Hotch to look up in shock. To glance at you. Something.

But he didn't.

He was staring at a piece of paper. With him on it.

How long he had been sitting there staring at it, you didn't know.

"Hotch." You whispered out. But he heard you none the less. He glanced up for a second before glancing back down.

"Is that me?" He asked. The silence that followed was deafening. You didn't answer him. You couldn't.

"Is that me Y/n?" He asked again.

"Yeah. Yes. I'm so sorry Hotch. You weren't supposed to see it." You looked up at him and your eyes locked. He had a tear rolling down his face.

"I-I love it. Its bueatiful." You stared at him waiting for the other show to drop, waiting for the but. Except it never came. He just stood from his desk, marched around it and smashed his lips against yours.

You let out a surprised noise and faltered backwards, but that just caused his to press you into the wall, kissing you harder. It was intimate and everything you had ever dreamed about. He cupped your face, deepening the kiss.

He broke away after a minute or two. You couldn't tell how long it was, the kiss had left you in a daze.

"I love it. I love you." He stuttered out breathlessly. You stared at him in awe. You hadn't expected this kind of reaction. Never in a million years did you think he would feel the same as you did.

"I love you too." You spoke softly. He smiled widely.

"The drawing is so perfect. Its bueatiful. No one has ever drawn me before. And you drew Jack, he looks, he's perfect. Its perfect, you are perfect. God I love y-" you cut him off with another kiss, smiling the entire time.

You were kissing Aaron Hotchner.

You loved Aaron Hotchner.

And he loved you too.

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Thanks for reading! Requests are still open, so ask away! If you would like an idea of what to request, here is my prompt list, and if you would like to read more of my work, here is my masterlist.

#imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #fluff #reader insert #angst #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader

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merakiaes · 4 years ago

Text

Hate You, Hate You Not - Armitage Hux

Pairing: General Armitage Hux x reader

Requested: By anon.

Prompts: #1 & #58 from the fluff-list.

Warnings/notes: (SHOULD I MAKE A PART 2 WITH MORE ROMANCE IN IT?) This ended up being much longer than I planned so it's most likely very boring and dull😭 Might be a bit, if not a lot, out of character since this is kinda my test-run for Hux and Star Wars in general. Getting the characters mannerisms in might take some practice. Not proofread so I apologize in advance for any mistakes. This is the first time ever that I write for Star Wars and the first time in like 5-6 months that I’m writing in general so I’m a bit rusty. Please reblog and leave comments to keep my motivation going and let me know if you’d like to be added to a Star Wars taglist <3

Wordcount: 5632

Summary: One of Kylo Ren’s many tantrums results in your room being inhabitable for a night, which in turn results in you having to share a room - and bed - with the person you hate the most.

Everyone who had ever, at some point in their lives, worked alongside Kylo Ren in his quest to bring the Order to power, knew how much of a hassle and inconvenience his temper, or lack thereof, could be.

Not much was needed for him to lose his cool and it happened on a much too frequent basis than what was considered normal for a man in his early 30s, at least according to you.

Of course, however, you couldn’t actually tell him that, nor could you think it, with the risk of him probing your mind.

So every time he came back from a failed mission and completely obliterated your hard work, you could do nothing but bite your tongue, clear your head and repair the damages like you’d done oh, so many times before.

That’s what you got for being one of the highest-ranked engineers of the Order, you supposed.

But on this day you would’ve, for the first time in your life, very much preferred to repair the damages left behind by your tantrum-prone leader like you always did. Because if that punishment had to be compared to the one you were now facing, you would’ve chosen the former without even a shadow of a doubt.

But, unfortunately, that was not an option this time around, as the room that had fallen victim to the sizzling beam of Kylo Ren’s lightsaber was your bedroom.

Well, not originally, of course, but sparks had flown from the totaled control panels and a piece of supposedly fireproof metal scrap had caught on fire before you and the other engineers reached the room for a damage-control, starting of as a small flame and then proceeding to spread like wildfire as fire did, in ways completely unbeknownst to you as, like already mentioned, the place was supposed to be safe from fires.

The licking flames had managed to melt through several walls before you got to the scene, and one of those walls was the wall to your bedroom.

It was late when it happened, only fifteen minutes before you were supposed to end your shift, and as you were on the verge of having a mental fucking breakdown, you personally requested an audience with Kylo and were granted permission by him after a very carefully-worded explanation to start early in the morning.

But that only took care of one of your problems, and only temporarily at that. Now you were left with the issue of finding other sleeping accommodations since your room was currently not habitable. You had no choice but to ask for another room and, of course, Hux thought that to be the perfect time to crack a sarcastic joke about throwing you into one of the prisoner cells.

You had never, in all your years of being alive, glared so fiercely at another human being as you did then. And in your moment of anger, you accidentally let your walls down and let your thoughts run freely through your head – your annoyance directed at the General, but also at Kylo Ren, being exposed.

You felt it before you saw it – that little prickle in your head, that little sting of your mind being probed – and only a second later, Kylo Ren turned his masked head in your direction, walked up to you with patronizingly slow steps and spoke:

“I think you’ll find that General Hux’s quarters will suffice for the night, until repairs can be done to your own. He has more than enough space for both of you.”

He turned his head to look at the baffled man standing behind him, all of the attitude he had previously been harboring against you now completely melted away.

“Isn’t that right, General?” Kylo continued asking, giving him the time he needed to regain his composure.

The general in question had never been very good at holding his tongue, not even when receiving orders from superiors, and was quick to protest.

As anyone would’ve been able to guess, that didn’t go very well, and you weren't even gonna try hiding the satisfaction you got from seeing Hux be force-choked against a wall for speaking out of turn.

No matter how good both of you were at hiding your spiteful thoughts toward him, Kylo knew how much the two of you hated him. And more than anything, he knew how much you hated each other.

Kylo had become very predictable to you during the time you had been there and you knew his ways good enough to know that he wouldn’t have wasted petty energy in putting the two most hateful people he knew in the same room if he hadn’t been pushed to do so.

You knew that you weren’t the reason in this scenario, despite the fact that he had probably felt your spite directed towards him, which only left one option; and that option was the bitter, infuriatingly stubborn ginger currently walking by your side.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and glared, clenching and unclenching your fists at your sides in the same manner you had been doing ever since Kylo had ruled his decision final and dismissed you for the night.

His eyes remained trained on the metallic corridor that seemed to be stretched out for miles in front of you and your blood boiled at the sight.

You would’ve lost your shit if he’d had the nerve to even consider looking at you after putting you in this situation, but at the same time, you were also on the verge of losing your shit about him having the audacity to ignore you.

You wanted to scream at him like you’d never screamed at anyone before, but you knew that doing that would only fuel the petty grudge Kylo had against the two of you and give him more ways to cause you torment. The only thing you and the general would ever have in common was not wanting that.

But still, what harm could a tiny bit of friendly banter do?

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you, Armitage?” The question you’d been sucking on for the past few minutes finally slipped out into the air, making your anger known.

“Don’t call me that.”

“My apologies.” You sarcastically shot back with a dry laugh. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you, general?”

“No, it was awfully tempting.” Was all that he replied, his eyes not once flickering and neither his stone-cold scowl nor fast-paced stride faltering.

Well, you might have absolutely despised each other but in the very least, you never bothered lying to each other. That had to count for something, right? Not that either of you cared.

No more words were exchanged, and that was probably for the best. Engineers and stormtroopers all moved out of your way as the two of you marched through the corridors, side by side, knowing better at this point than to get on your bad sides when you were together and this obviously angry both with each other and in general.

Soon enough, you finally reached the corridor in which Hux’s sleeping quarters were located and once the mechanic doors slid open, you pushed yourself past him into the room before he even got the chance to react.

He fumed behind you as he watched you make yourself at home, dropping your dirty jacket on his perfectly made bed.

“You’ll take the floor, then?” You asked as you turned around, crossing your arms over your chest and shooting him a forced smile.

“Hardly.” He spat, eyes narrowing, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes in return.

“You must be a real hit with the ladies with those manners.”

At that, he stepped further into his room, allowing the sensory-triggered door to shut behind him, successfully shutting the two of you in together.

“I don’t have time for fooling around with women.” He spat out the last word with such malice that you automatically raised an eyebrow.

“Well, that explains it.” You mused, the corner of your lip tugging upwards ever so slightly.

“Explains what, exactly?” His eyes narrowed further, and this time it was his turn to cross his arms.

“That stick you have up your ass.” You wasted no time in shooting back, and before he got a chance to reply, you continued. “I know this might be news to you seeing as you’re, well, you, but gentlemen are supposed to sacrifice their comfort and offer themselves to take the floor when a lady, due to unfortunate circumstances, is forced to stay in their room.”

You sarcastically smiled at him and sank down his bed, something that he, judging by the snarl overtaking his face, didn’t appreciate.

“You, a lady? That will be the day.” He scoffed. “Even calling you a woman is a stretch with your mannerisms.”

You could only roll your eyes.

“Well, I’m not sharing a bed with you.” The glare that had temporarily been exchanged for a teasing smirk returned to your face. “I’d rather share a bed with Millicent.”

As you said that, you picked up a single strand of cat hair from his bed, held it up for further inspection and raised your lip in disgust.

He stared at you dead serious, hands clasped behind his back and eyes burning holes into the side of your face.

“You’re allergic to cats.” He pointed out, making your head whip back around to face him with a glare equally as fierce as the one you were met with.

“Yes, that’s my point.” You deadpanned. “But it would seem that said point just went right over your thick-skulled head.”

“Do you think I am any happier about this than you are?” He scowled, and you stood up, slowly approaching him and coming to a stop right in front of him.

He took a small step back, a move that made your lip tug upward ever so slightly. The fact that he was so obviously not as tough as he wanted people to believe gave you a special kind of satisfaction and he knew it, judging by the way he only turned stiffer after that.

“You should be.” You smiled sweetly at him, keeping your eyes connected to his. “Because you’re sure as hell lucky I haven’t choked the life out of you yet for getting us into this situation in the first place.”

He glared and you glared right back, challenging, no, daring him to fight back. You knew that he wanted to, you could see that he wanted to, but in the end, not even he was that stupid.

So he said nothing, and once you realized you had finally managed to successfully back him into a corner, you backed away from him again and plastered on another forced, overly sweet smile.

“Now, I need to take a shower. I reek of burnt plastic.” You stated flatly and pushed past him, making a beeline for the one extra door in the room that you could only assume was his bathroom.

You heard the squeak of his shoes rubbing against the floor as he quickly turned around behind you, and then came the determined steps and the proximity of his body closing in on you. However, before he got the chance to object or reach you, you entered his bathroom and slammed the door shut in his face, smiling contently to yourself as you listened to the muffled string of curses that followed.

You didn’t spend any more time thinking about it, though, not wasting any time before doing what you came in there to do.

You got out of your horrid-smelling clothes, released your equally as nasty-smelling hait from its ponytail and stepped into the shower.

If there was one thing you appreciated a little extra about living at the Starkiller Base, it was that everyone used the same scented soap. Because that meant that you wouldn’t have to go around smelling specifically like Hux, but rather just like you always smelled.

Once you finished washing your hair and body, you had to stop and think for a bit.

Your clothes obviously still reeked and needed a proper wash before they could be worn again, and you obviously couldn’t go naked.

After much thought back and forth, you finally settled with your own leggings as they were the one piece of clothing from your previous attire that smelled the least of smoke, and a plain black, long-sleeved undershirt that you found in a pile of Hux’s clean laundry.

Once you vad gotten dressed, braided your hair and re-entered the bedroom accompanied by a stream of steam, you found it to be empty, Hux nowhere in sight.

You couldn’t deny that you wondered where he’d gone off to, but you shook your head free of his face pretty quickly, settling with believing that he just went to take his frustration out on some poor stormtrooper or low-rank intern like he so often did when things didn’t go his way, much like Kylo Ren beat the shit out of any control panel he could get his hands on.

While you awaited his return, you occupied yourself with going around the room and lighting the small night-lamps like you normally did in your own room before going to bed.

That obviously didn’t take long, however, so you were soon enough once again left alone with your boredom and started walking around the room, inspecting all of Hux’s belongings.

You realized pretty quickly that he was not a person to whom inanimate things had much sentimental value, as he definitely didn’t have much to his name aside from the basic interior that all of the sleeping quarters on the base had.

He had a ring on his drawer, a few books in one of his two bookshelves while the other stood empty, a small bed in a corner for his cat, clothes in his wardrobe, and that was pretty much it. He had no pictures of family, no real personal belongings that could signify any kind of emotional value.

But then again, who did in these parts?

“Is that my shirt?”

You jumped when you heard the sudden voice behind you, quickly turning around where you stood twirling the ring you had found in the light of the lamp standing beside you.

Your eyes found his form immediately, shocked meeting stern.

“Why are you wearing my shirt?” He almost instantly repeated himself when not getting a reply the first time, slowly beginning to walk in your direction with his hands clasped behind his back.

You quickly put the ring back down on the dresser and turned towards him, regaining your composure.

“Well, if you hadn’t noticed, my room and everything in it was burnt to a crisp. The smokey smell on my clothes was giving me a headache and kind of would have ruined the purpose of taking a shower so when I just so conveniently noticed a pile of clean clothes, I helped myself.” You shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, and to you, it wasn’t.

Hux, however, didn’t seem amused in the slightest.

“Yes, you seem to have a habit of thinking you’re entitled to everything you want.” He spat back at you, coming to a stop while there was still a good amount of distance between the two of you.

Any chill you had previously had melted right off and your annoyance quickly returned at the sound of his words.

“Oh, do excuse me. I just thought one headache would be enough.” You retorted and rolled your eyes, before sighing and crossing your arms over your chest. “So, how are we doing this? It’s late and I need to be up early to see to the repairs.”

“I thought that I made myself clear.” Hux was quick to scoff, his glare not faltering for as much as a second. “I’m not giving you my bed.”

Once again, all you could do was roll your eyes. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to suck it up then.” You stated flatly and sat down on the bed, wasting no time in starting to divide the pillows into two piles rather than one.

You took a few seconds to adjust the pillows to suit your needs before looking back up, eyebrow raised at the fact that he had yet to say or do anything.

Your eyes once again met his and you almost laughed out loud at the sight you were faced with, but thankfully managed to control yourself and avoid making the situation even harder than it already was.

Long story short, Hux had never looked more horrified than he did in that moment.

He basically looked at you like you had killed his cat, and that was putting it lightly.

You took a few seconds to just enjoy watching him squirm and silently scramble to make sense of the situation, but even you knew when enough was enough and raised a questioning eyebrow at him in an attempt to get him moving.

“Well? What’s it going to be?” You asked. “It’s either this or the floor, just like it was for me.”

Hux opened his mouth, hesitated, and then closed it again. He obviously hadn’t been expecting you to actually agree on sharing his bed with him and now that you had, he was left at loss for words as he clearly hadn’t been preparing for anything other than you sleeping on the floor.

But after a good moment of just standing there and looking like an idiot, he finally picked himself back up, squared his shoulders and walked around the bed to the other side with frustrated strides and a snarling lip.

The feigned confidence melted right off, however, when he reached his destination and awkwardly shuffled into bed while simultaneously avoiding your amused and mocking stare, silently grabbing the extra blanket that was folded upon his bedside table.

Both of you laid down on your backs and a heavy silence fell like a thick blanket over the room. The only sound you could hear for a few moments were each other’s breaths and your own heartbeats. For a moment, only for a microscopical moment, you were actually on your way to admit to yourself that it was kind of nice.

But that thought went flying out the window just as quickly as it had knocked on the door of your mind when Hux broke the silence by beginning to adjust himself to get ready to sleep, and in the process of doing so made the active choice to tug the pillows from right under your head.

The back of your head hit the mattress with a soft thump and you closed your eyes, your lips pulling into a straight, tight line and one, sharp breath being released through your nose as you attempted to keep your cool.

You took a moment to calm down, before you turned your head to his side of the bed where he now laid with his back to you and tugged the pillows back – maybe with a little too much force than necessary.

Hux had quickly rolled over to his other side to take them back and in anger and an eagerness to get to sleep, you exclaimed: “Stop stealing the pillows!”

He met you with a stare cold enough to have anyone else shaking in their boots and spat back. “They’re my pillows.”

You grumbled under your breath and let go of one of the two pillows, letting him pull it back to his side while you held on to the last one.

You stared at each other for a moment, both of you eventually coming to a silent, mutual agreement that you were too tired to fight and therefore he'd let you keep the pillow you were holding on to as if your life depended on it.

He, once again, laid down and turned his back to you, his hands holding on to the pillows under his head while you struggled to get comfortable again, this time with only one pillow.

“Why is your bed so damn hard?” You muttered under your breath as you angrily shoved your elbow into the mattress in an attempt to make it more comfortable – as if that was ever going to help.

“Stop complaining.” He only snapped back.

“How could I when I’m stuck in a bed with you?”

“You could’ve asked for other accommodations when you had the chance.”

“And what, be the next victim of Ren’s lightsaber?” You scoffed. “I’m the one in charge of the repairs that are needed every time he throws a wobbly. I’ve seen the kind of damage that thing can do and I’m not in any hurry to find myself at the receiving end of it.”

You muttered the last part under your breath as you finally managed to get relatively comfortable, plopping back down on your back and folding your hands over your stomach.

“How did you know I’m allergic to cats, anyway?” The question spilled out before you could stop yourself, and before you could even register that it was on the way.

Where did that even come from? Cats weren’t even close to being the subject at hand.

Hux didn’t seem to care much about the random change of subject, however, simply muttering back a reply. “You start sniffling and scratching your arms every time you’re in the same room as me for more than five minutes.”

He was clearly tired. Tired in general or just tired of you, you didn’t really know, but you guessed that it was a mixture of both since that was the case for you.

“Maybe I’m just allergic to you.” You muttered back with a shrug, even though he couldn’t see you, and he scoffed at that.

“Had that been the case I’m fairly certain it would go both ways and, unlike you, I don’t go around oozing snot everywhere I go.”

“I don’t go oozing snot everywhere.” You calmly protested, throwing the back of his head a disapproving glare before turning to lay on your side so that your back was now turned to his.

He didn’t say anything else and neither did you, sleep coming in and catching you completely by surprise and having you knocked out within the next two minutes.

When you woke up early that next morning, Hux was unsurprisingly already gone, Millicent instead laying in his place and looking right at you.

With a disgusted snarl and hesitant movements, you reached over to the other side of the bed and awkwardly patted her head twice, probably very much in the incorrect manner as you had no experience whatsoever with animals.

You got out of bed after that, put on your jacket and shoes, and wasted no time in getting to work once you’d gotten some food into your system, your team joining you in the damage-inflicted area to start on repairs like you’d done so many times before.

Everything was going fine and dandy, just a light-reckon day that started off like any other – if you didn’t count waking up in Hux’s bed with his cat – but a few hours into your workday, the unmistakable sound of Kylo Ren’s heavy steps could be heard echoing through the entire corridor you found yourself working in.

A big share of the Order’s pilots had been either killed or badly hurt a few days prior in an ambush. No one had expected any pilots to be needed for at least a few days but Kylo had gotten a sudden lead on the map that would take him to Luke Skywalker and was now walking around the base recruiting anyone capable of helping him get what he wanted.

Unfortunately for you, you were not only a highly-ranked engineer, but also a pretty decent pilot, and couldn’t say anything in protest when you were whisked away to a ship.

As anyone who wasn’t driven by an unhealthy obsession would have been able to guess, the lead was just too good to be true with a way too simple access.

Just like the last lead, this one fell through when it was revealed to be another ambush. You weren’t completely sure what happened, but over the comms, you had heard something about Leia Organa and some scavenger.

You didn’t have time to think about retired war heroes though, no matter how much you’d love to pry and the get in on the gossip, as you had to shoot yourself through a big fleet of Resistance starfighter corps, barely getting through with your ship intact.

Your fellow pilots were shot down one by one, only a small amount of you managing to get out of there. And even then, you were met by more starfighter corps just as quickly as you’d gotten away from the last line.

Everything was just a mess after that. You weren’t able to get through to anyone over the comms, only barely being able to make out a “pull back!” before your comm system was blown to pieces along with one of your main engines.

Along with several other ships, you were forced to crash-land on a small planet filled with thick woods and when your ship collided with the ground, your head slammed into the controls, rendering you unconscious for who knows how long.

By the time you came back to it, you were hanging upside down, the only thing preventing you from falling down being the seatbelt keeping you strapped in.

You struggled to get out of there but you managed, and had to take a moment to get your surroundings to stop spinning before moving forward to look for survivors as well as a ship that wasn’t completely beyond salvation.

You weren’t sure who you’d find, but the person you’d shared a bed with the previous night was definitely the last person you’d expect to have crashed in the same place as you.

And still, you recognized his ship immediately. After all, you were the one who had personalized it to fit his liking.

Lucky for you, his ship seemed to have gotten a pretty soft landing. As you circled around it, you were able to determine that no major engines had been blown out. Damaged? Definitely. But they looked intact enough to at least be able to put some more distance between you and the Resistance pilots and get you to a safer place. Hopefully, the inside would be as untouched as the outside.

The ramp was lowered to the ground but didn’t look broken, so you wasted no time in jogging inside.

The lights were out completely in the entrance area, and just flickering in the ceiling when you came further in.

The first thing you noticed when you entered the piloting pit was that the pilot was not breathing. How could you tell from that far a distance? Well, let’s just say that something that was not supposed to be stuck in his eye, was stuck in his eye.

Upon further inspection, you noticed another body on the floor. However, this one was very much alive.

You would’ve expected to be met by a desperate “help me”, maybe even some begging and pleading or in the very least a “please”, but instead, even when in the process of bleeding out on the floor, Hux narrowed his eyes at you as you approached him and asked you with ragged breaths:

“Is that my shirt?”

You panted as you dropped to your knees at his side, still pretty shaken up from your own crash. “What? No.” You replied in a breath, and you wasted no time in starting to inspect his injuries.

“Yes, it is.”

“Why would I be wearing your shirt?” You asked simply, struggling to see in the dark as the flickering lights weren’t providing much assistance by means of light.

“That’s my shirt.” He kept insisting, and flinched when your hand made contact with his lower abdomen.

Only then did your eyes register the glimmering piece of metal through your blurred and disoriented vision, sticking out of his side.

You flinched at the sight, not needing any more light than you had to know that it was really bad.

Your heart suddenly picked up in speed in your chest, and your hands began shaking as they became covered in his blood.

You had never been in the middle of the action before now, you’d always just been surrounded by metal and electricity. The most exciting thing you’d ever experienced was when a new engineer circuited a control panel the wrong way, resulting in it blowing up right by your workplace.

But it wasn’t the action in itself that had your heart about ready to burst through your chest, nor was it the blood in general, but rather the fact that it was his blood covering your hands.

His life was completely dependent on you at this moment and you had absolutely no idea how to behave accordingly.

But if there was something you knew, it was that the last thing you were supposed to do was to show a dying man your panic, so you took a deep breath and tried your hardest to steady your racing heart, going back to the conversation at hand.

“How could you tell the difference, really?” You asked. “All of our shirts look the same. All black, all equally as sufficient when used to stop blood flows.”

As you said that last part, you released another breath and ripped off a big chunk of the lower part of the shirt you were wearing.

A shirt that was, in fact, Hux's.

The man in question let his head fall back against the wall that he was propped against and his eyes squeezed shut when feeling your hands return to his side.

“Do you always wear shirts several sizes too big?” He managed to get out through clenched teeth and you replied without missing a beat.

“There was a mix-up in the laundry room.”

“So it isn’t your shirt?” He continued to be persistent and despite the seriousness of the situation, you couldn’t help but to let a small smile slip.

“Do you want to keep fighting about whether or not this shirt is mine or would you rather maybe, oh, I don’t know, focus on getting the hell out of here?” You asked him lightly and at that, he raised his head to meet your eyes with a distrusting glare.

“Why are you helping me?”

You raised your eyebrow at him, sparing just a second to meet his eyes. “You have a piece of metal stuck in your side, why the hell would I not help you?” You asked and as quickly as you had looked up, you looked back down at your hands to see what you were doing.

“You hate me, and I hate you.” He deadpanned, and you couldn’t deny you felt your heart tug in your chest.

“Who told you I hated you?” You asked, and listened as he let out a dry, struggling laugh.

“You did. On countless occasions.”

He hissed when you accidentally bumped your hand against the piece of metal. You quietly apologized but didn’t stop, knowing you didn’t have much time before the enemy would catch up with you.

“Thinking that I’m entitled to everything I want isn’t the only bad habit I have. I also have a tendency to overexaggerate.” You joked with a smile. “I do find you insufferably infuriating, though.”

Another chuckle left his lips. “Likewise.” He said and dropped his head back against the wall.

You said nothing more, ripping another two pieces off of the shirt, tying them together and wrapping it around his waist like you had the first piece. You tightened this knot significantly more than the first one, though, right above the piece of metal, and just as quickly as he had relaxed, he jerked back forward with a yell.

“I need to stop the bleeding, you need to keep still.” You hurriedly scolded and sternly pushed him back down by his chest.

He muttered bitterly in return, but didn’t protest.

“I bet you’re enjoying this.” He seethed, and you raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Whenever I’m feeling down, I just think back to the multiple times I’ve had the pleasure of witnessing you being force-thrown across a room by Ren. Puts a smile on my face every time. But that doesn’t automatically mean I want you to die. So stop wallowing in your internalized self-hatred and put your hand over mine.” You told him, trying your hardest to keep a lighthearted attitude, more so for your own sake than his at this point as you were literally about to pass out.

But he did as told, contributing with the strength he had left when you got to your feet and started pulling him up and into one of the seats that were still intact.

He put a trembling hand over yours and in turn, you put your other one over his and pushed down. He hissed and you gave him a moment to adjust, and when you were sure he was pressing hard enough with his own hand, you slowly removed both of yours and fastened his seatbelt.

“Keep pressure and hold on tight. This is most likely going to be a rough ride.” You warned him, and he slowly looked up at you through a mess of ginger hair.

“It can’t be any worse than the ride here.” He retorted and you nodded, taking that as a “go ahead”.

You wasted no time in getting into the pilot’s seat after pulling the previous pilot out, as well as the thick tree branch on which his head had been impaled, and started up the controls. It took a few tries to get out of the hole the ship hade gotten stuck in when crashing, but soon enough you were up in the sky.

With a bit of dumb luck, you eventually reached your destination and got brought back in to the base by your team of fellow engineers, all ready to repair the wrecked ship.

Hux was immediately taken to the medical bay while you stayed behind to help with the ships, and from two ends of the base, the two of you silently and separately came to realize that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t hate each other as much as you thought, after all.

#hux x reader #hux imagine #hux #armitage hux #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux imagine #general hux #general hux imagine #general hux x reader #domnhall gleeson #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars x reader #kylo ren #knights of ren #the first order

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years ago

Text

Dorkus Maximus

Day 20, Story #1 is by @honouraryweasley12

Title: Dorkus Maximus Author: honouraryweasley12 Pairing: Harry/Ginny Prompt: Slice of life Rating: PG

The locker room door slammed open, and a frustrated raven-haired witch marched in, a sporting bag slung over her shoulder and a broom in hand. She marched to where her teammates were sitting and threw her equipment down in a huff.

"What's with all the press? It's only an open practice. Bloody nuisance, they are."

"Good morning to you, too, Reena." Edith replied, giving her friend a wry smile.

She groaned. "I know this is the first full season since the end of the war and everything, but it's mental out there. I guess people are really excited for Quidditch to be back."

Edith scoffed; her face unable to hide the surprise. She glanced around at the other women who were staring at Reena and murmuring indistinctly. All but a redheaded witch sitting at the far stall.

Reena glanced around, confused by the reactions of her fellow Harpies. "What, what did I miss?"

"Have you met the new Chaser? She just graduated from Hogwarts."

Reena shook her head. The redhead stood up and strode across the room, holding out a hand.

"Hi, I'm Ginny."

Reena shook her hand, still unsure what the new chaser had to do with the number of reporters at their usually quiet practice. "Nice to meet you, I'm Reena Kumar. I guess we'll be chasing together."

Ginny smiled. "I'm looking forward to it. I've been watching you play for the past few years."

"You must be quite a sensation to draw all that attention."

Edith interrupted. "Her full name is Ginny Weasley."

Reena's eyes widened. "Weasley? As in the family of war heroes?"

Ginny blushed. "It wasn't just us, so many people fought."

"No wonder there are so many reporters outside. I guess we'll have to get used to it, having a celebrity on our team."

"You're already celebrities," Ginny replied.

"Sure, amongst some people. But everyone knows of your family now."

Ginny shrugged. "I have your poster up on my wall. That goal you scored on Wimbourne in '96 was amazing."

"Well, I see you're a student of the game. Just ignore those tossers outside and concentrate on the practice."

"It's fine. They follow my boyfriend and I everywhere. He hates the attention, but I've gotten used to it, being with him."

"Oh, who's your boyfriend?"

The rest of the team howled with laughter, as Ginny's face flushed a deep red.

Edith piped up again. "I know you're a fanatic about your training in the offseason, Reena, but you can't be serious. Have you not looked at a magazine or newspaper in the last year?"

Reena bristled defensively, facing her teammates. "What the hell is the matter with all of you?"

Edith laughed, clapping her friend on the shoulder. "Ginny here also happens to be the girlfriend of Harry Potter."

Reena spun back around. "What? THE Harry Potter?"

Ginny nodded, smiling. "It's really not a big deal."

Edith sat down heavily, fanning her face in jest. "He's so dark and mysterious, running off on secret missions to save the world. Fighting off evil at every turn. So brave and heroic."

It was Ginny's turn to laugh, drawing the attention of the rest of the women, who were unable to resist listening to gossip about the famous Harry Potter.

Edith looked affronted. "What did I say?"

Ginny shook her head. "He's not like that at all. He did what he had to do; he didn't want any of the burden he's lived his life under. You've been reading too many gossip rags."

"What's he like then?" Reena asked, unable to hide her curiosity.

"He's… a dork," Ginny replied affectionately.

A loud roar of indignation rang out from the rest of the team, unbelieving of her description of the most famous wizard in the country.

She held up her hands. "I'm being completely truthful. He's nothing like the stories make him out to be."

The sharp voice of team captain Gwenhog Jones suddenly rang out, silencing them as she entered from the trainer's room. "Enough with the chit chat. We hit the pitch in five minutes. Kumar, Leech, and Weasley, you'll lead us out."

The team nodded and got back to their usual routine. Ginny couldn't help adding one more thing. "Judge for yourselves when you meet him."

A few minutes later, they were lined up, brooms at the ready. Edith threw an arm each around Ginny and Reena. "Let's go."

~*~

Three hours later, the locker room was almost empty. Most of the team had showered and left after a hard first practice, one which had been flooded by the flashes of cameras as reporters tried to get a first glimpse of Ginny Weasley, current media darling.

It had been so bad at one point that Gwenhog almost crashed into the stands, sending them all scrambling.

The only players left in the locker room were Reena, who was busy stretching, and Ginny, who was trying to come up with a gameplan on how to avoid the questions and photos. The Anti-Apparition jinxes on the locker room were proving to be an annoyance.

There was a soft knock on the door, so Ginny marched over and opened it a crack, ready to ream out the reporter she expected. Instead, she was greeted with nothing.

"Gin, it's me."

"Harry!?"

"Yeah, can I come in? No one is changing or anything, are they?"

"No, come in." She pushed open the door slightly, allowing him in before shutting it again.

He whispered a phrase, lifting his Disillusionment charm, before quickly pulled her into a long snog. After they broke apart, he stepped back.

She looked him up and down, bursting out in laughter. "What are you wearing?"

He was decked out from head-to-toe in the signature green and yellow Harpies colours, including a kit with Weasley across his back. He had a glittery green pom-pom in his left hand, and his face was painted with the Holyhead logo. He even had a hat on with an animated chaser throwing a quaffle through a hoop.

"I came to see your practice! You were great!" Harry exclaimed, rather loudly and enthusiastically. He mimicked flying and waved his hands wildly. "That one move you made where you faked to the middle, then threw it through the far hoop was outstanding."

A voice called out. "What's the commotion. Is everything—"

Reena froze as she rounded the corner, coming face to face with Harry.

Ginny smirked, and gestured to her boyfriend. "See, I told you. Reena Kumar, meet Harry Potter."

Reena laughed, seeing the look of confusion on Harry's face. He shrugged his shoulders and stuck out a hand. She stared at it in awe for a second, before taking it.

Harry shook her hand energetically, still buoyed by his exuberance over Ginny's practice.

"Nice to meet you, Harry. My friends and family will hardly believe it!"

"Nice to meet you as well. Oh!" His eyebrows suddenly raised in recognition. "Gin's shown me some of your highlights. You're an amazing chaser!"

"Thank you." Her voice was halting, still somewhat taken aback by his bizarre appearance.

"Did you see Ginny? Wasn't she fantastic? You looked like a veteran out there. Just incredible!"

"Harry, calm down, it was one practice."

He bounced on his heels. "But you were so great, love. All of you were. You're going to be at the top of the table, I can feel it!"

Reena shook her head, stunned that the saviour of their way of life was indeed as Ginny described. After an awkward second of silence, she addressed him. "From what I've read, you're quite a good Seeker."

"I'm alright," Harry responded.

"Don't be modest." Ginny turned to her fellow Chaser. "He could've played in the league if he wanted to."

"She's definitely surpassed me since I last played at Hogwarts. Wasn't she great for her first time with a professional team?"

"He does have a point, Weasley. You were pretty good."

"See, Gin?"

She waved him off. "Thank you, both. Where were you, Harry? I didn't see you."

"I was planning to surprise you, but there were too many reporters. I hid myself in the top corner of the stands. I also may have planted a rumour just now that you had snuck out already, that's why no one is here."

"It's almost like you've done this before." Ginny added wryly.

Harry grabbed her hands in his. "We should really get going. Your mum planned a big celebration dinner and most of the family will be there. It was really great meeting you, Reena!"

He practically dragged Ginny to the doors as she waved goodbye to her teammate, flashing Reena a look of humoured exasperation and rolled her eyes.

Harry kept babbling on as they exited the room. "Ron really wanted to come, too, but he had too much work. He and Hermione will be there, as will George and Angelina, Percy—"

The doors shut behind them, cutting off the sound. Reena simply shook her head and smiled. Dork didn't even begin to cover it.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest romantic #submission #hinny #harry x ginny

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fanmoose12 · 3 years ago

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a little something for @bruciesnat :) i know i've promised it like a lifetime ago, sorry for the delay! oh, and i decided to combine it with a prompt i also received a long while ago <3

Mike doesn't know why he's doing this. Doesn't understand how he agreed to it, can't comprehend why Erwin would make him do it. Mike doesn't know what he had done to deserve this- this punishment.

He's- he's a good man. An honest one. He serves to ensure the future of humanity, he risks his life to give others a better one.

He's good at it too, he's excellent at fighting and slashing and scouting. He was the best one at it, before- before the annoying midget came.

The same annoying midget, who is insanely strong and easily irritated. The same annoying midget, who has a crush on their adorable Hange. Hange, who Mike has to seduce to test Erwin's theory that Levi, insanely strong, easily irritated Levi, truly has a crush on their Hange.

Mike swallows heavily as he sits next to Hange, just a little too close as Erwin instructed. He smells that it won't end well.

He cringes, as he puts his arm around her shoulders.

Mike likes Hange, a lot actually. Sometimes he feels like they're siblings that were torn apart by some bigger entity. So yeah, he likes Hange. But definitely not like that.

But, oh well, anything for the cause, right?

"Hey, Hans," he murmurs, adopting his most seducting tone. He hopes that his smile is charming enough to captivate their dear scientist. "Are you free tonight? I have two tickets to the theater perfomance," he leans in closer, lowering his voice to what could probably (Mike is an eternal optimist!) be called an enticing whisper. "They're showing the creation of the the Walls tonight."

Somewhere on his periphery, Mike can see a swift dark shadow that oozes the smell of detergent. That shadow, it grows closer, its aura becoming more menacing.

Mike can only hope that if Levi attempts to kill him, Erwin would intervene.

Although... knowing Erwin, he'd just write Mike's death off as a necessary sacrifice.

He takes his hand off Hange. The shadow retreats a few steps back.

"Sorry, Mike," Hange shrugs with a small, apologizing smile. "I showed that play to Levi a few weeks ago. I had my fill of religious propaganda for now. But if you're looking for someone to accompany you," she winks and turns around. Mike's heart sinks. "Levi really liked going to the theatre! He'll be happy to tag along, right, Levi?"

Mike meets Levi's eyes, and sees nothing but desire for murder inside.

Mike quickly scrambles to his feet. "You know, I'll just ask Gelgar to go with me. I'm sure he doesn't have anything better to do."

And they can get wasted afterwards. Mike really needs that after this conversation.

Just as he retreats, Levi takes his place, sitting down next to Hange, also just a little too close.

The mission had failed spectacularly, but, Mike consoles himself, at least he learned that Hange and Levi went to theatre together. And sometimes intel is more important than the victory, right?

Ah, if only Erwin would share his opinion on that.

***

Erwin's second attempt is even worse than the first one, but, at least, this time it doesn't directly involve Mike. Still, he's an unwilling spectator to it, and, just as the last time, he doesn't like where all of this is going.

He already feels bad for the poor guy Erwin hired to hit on Hange during the annual military ball. Where did Erwin get the money - did he take them from the Corps' funds or his own allowance, Mike doesn't know, and, frankly, he isn't sure which option is more disturbing.

At least, the actor is handsome, Mike doesn't know if Hange would like him, he doesn't know if she has a type, and if she does, he hopes it's not annoying midgets, but the guy is handsome, there is no denying that.

Hange has cleaned up fairly well too, the white suit looks excellent on her, bringing out all of her best assets, demonstrating her wide hips and lean, long legs. The hair, gathered in a neat bun, shows her long, gorgeous neck, and the light make-up make her even more gorgeous than usual.

When she and Erwin walked through the front door - him in his blue suit and Hange in her white, symbolising their Wings of Freedom, everyone had their breath taken away.

Even Mike was a little shocked to see Hange dressed up like this, and Levi, who stood right next to him, was completely blown away, staring at Hange with wide-eyed, lovestruck look.

Thanks to Levi's ridiculous expression, Mike now understands why Erwin goes to such length to bring their resident weirdos together. It is delightful to watch Levi behave like that, and Mike longs to see more of this side of him.

Soon after Hange and Erwin make their grand entrance, their guy makes the first move.

He approaches Hange, his eyes bright and smile so charming it makes Mike envious that Hange is at the receiving end of it. He kisses her hand, whispers something in her ear.

"He praises her recent experiment. I thought it was a good place to start," Erwin explains quietly to him.

"Ah," Mike nods. So Erwin thought every detail through? Not surprising at all. "Think this would have an effect on Levi?"

"It already does," Erwin says, pointing to a furious cloud of black hair and suit that is approaching them at a rapid speed.

"Has four-eyes lost all shame?" Levi practically growls, his eyes throwing flames. "Is she seriously flirting with a fucker from the MP?"

"He's not a soldier," Mike answers, reciting a legend Erwin created. "He's actually a wealthy merchant from the South. Heard he sells apples to the King himself."

"And since when Hange is interested in someone like him," Levi crosses hands on his chest, his glare turning even darker, as Erwin's actor takes Hange by the hand and leads her to the dance floor.

"You know, you can ask Hange to a dance," Erwin advices with a pleased smile. "Then she won't be able to flirt with others."

Levi scoffs. "I would rather fight a horde of titans than dance with stinky four-eyes."

Maria, Rose and Sina, Mike thinks. They're worse than children.

"Hange has taken a bath before coming here," he tells Levi.

Levi rolls his eyes. "And now she looks even more awful than usual."

Mike shares a look with Erwin. Does Levi prefer usual Hange, when she doesn't bath for days and her eyes water from the lack of sleep? It almost sounds cute.

"This is the last time I'm attending this shitty ball," Levi swears to Erwin. "Even wine here is shitty."

He marches away immediately after that, heading to the table with wine. Mike can barely stop his laughter, as he watches Levi take a glass of wine, drink a few large gulps of it, and then wince, his mouth moving as he probably murmurs violent curses. He doesn't take his eyes off Hange and her dance partner, and relaxes only when the song ends.

Both Mike and Erwin watch intently as the actor kisses Hange's hand once again. Hange blushes, and Mike almost coos. Levi grabs another glass of wine.

When the actor starts leading Hange away, in the direction of the balcony, Levi starts moving too. He intercepts them just at the edge of the ballroom.

Mike knows he should have expected something like that, knows that Levi doesn't exactly possess the best of manners, but pouring wine over someone? Over his own colleague and friend? Mike certainly didn't expect that.

He's delighted to see what happens next, though.

What happens is that Hange's gorgeous white suit is ruined and Levi wraps his hand around her wrist and drags her to the bathroom. He sports a unusually pleased expression and Hange is laughing herself silly.

Not a bad ending to this endeavor, Mike thinks.

"Another disaster," Erwin sighs.

***

Third time is a charm, or so Mike hopes.

This time Erwin decides to take matter in his hands, and that another sign that this plan will succeed.

The plan is simple, yet, hopefully, effective. Erwin is to whisk Hange away to some remote location, create a scene that would look like a moment between lovers, and Mike is to call Levi there and make sure he witnesses it all.

Erwin is a brave man, Mike thinks, as his Commander explains the plan to him. He would never dare to do something like that to humanity's strongest. To awaken his jealous streak... Mike is glad he's not in Erwin's place.

One sunny afternoon, the plan is set in motion. Erwin takes Hange, and Mike goes to find Levi.

He finds him fairly quickly, in the middle of cleaning Hange's room. Man, he could at least try to make his crush be less discreet. But that's beside the point now, because Levi is cleaning Hange's room and not watching Erwin and Hange. Mike confidently strides up to him.

"Levi! I've just been looking for you."

"What do you need?" he asks boringly. "And have you seen four-eyes? I can't find her all day."

Erwin prepared some legend, a reason why Mike needs Levi, but in the heat of the moment, Mike can't remember a single word. So he just yells "Come with me!" and hope that Levi follows.

Thankfully, he does.

Mike leads him to the stables, where Erwin is already at it. His palm is on the wall, next to Hange's head, and from Mike's point of view, it certainly looks like they're in the middle of... something naughty.

Next to him, Levi tenses, and Mike can practically hear his teeth grinding.

Mike prepares for something very ugly, but then...

"I- I didn't know that Erwin and four-eyes-" oh, fuck, it sounds like Levi is genuinely sad, like he's heartbroken or something. Mike feels a strange desire to hug the little guy and pat his head. But then he remembers that he and Erwin are the reason for Levi's distress right now, and... remorse starts kicking in.

"Levi, listen, it's not-"

"Levi!"

As always, Hange is the one to save the day.

She breaks free from Erwin and sprints to Levi, a wide smile on her face. "You won't believe what Erwin had just told me! He gave me permission to go in the town's library and bring back all the books I want! I'm in dire need of your muscles, humanity's strongest, you'll go with me, right?"

Levi still seems grouchy, but under Hange's sunny grin, his angry facade crumbles. "I don't know if Commander will allow it..."

He doesn't even try to hide his bitterness and irration. Mike disguises his chuckle as a coughing fit.

"Erwin!" Hange turns to him, eyes pleading. "Can Levi go with me?"

"Sure," Erwin nods. "Take all the time you need."

Hange yells in triumph, loud enough to make Mike wince. She grabs Levi by the hand and drags him away. Erwin watches them with a wistful smile.

"I don't think we should get involved in their relationships," Mike says, as he approaches Erwin. He stands close to his Commander, their shoulders pressing against each other. "We should let them figure it out themselves."

"Agreed," Erwin says. "I'm sure they'll manage well enough even without us."

Mike watches Hange wrap her arm around Levi, and is inclined to agree. They will certainly manage without them both.

Or, at least, Hange is able to manage.

And that should be enough.

#levihan

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iphoenixrising · 3 years ago

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DickTim Week 2021: Day 5 Winged!Talon Tim au

So. another dual prompt and I really regret nothing about this one tbh. I took tomorrow’s Talon and today’s Wings and made a Winged!Talon!Tim fic. Of course, I talked to the wonderful babes on Capes & Coffee about a what if combination and this just, whew. Careful, it might break your heart a little, but damn if it isn’t an interesting idea.

Not beta read, so don't be a hater :D

Previous Talon!Tim universe posts: The initial idea, Babe and I talking it out, Talon Training Ask, Ra’s vs the Court, Talon and Ra’s, Talon and Ra’s take 2, Talon and Shiva short.

Watching B take on the new and improved Talon is really the entertainment of the year.

Once upon a time it had taken all of them plus more to take down as much of the Court of Owls as humanly possible. Of course, like rats, the Bats knew there would be no way to get the entire Court or all the Talons, not when the upper echelons of Gotham had spent the better part of 200 years creating, storing, training, and obtaining more.

Politicians were investigated, corrupt cops removed, and criminals burrowed underground once word of what the capes did to save the day got passed around.

For the first time in years, crime in Gotham was at an all time low.

But, as the coin flip dictates, nothing good lasts forever. Trouble is always brewing below the surface to eventually rise to the top and try to take over.

Case in point:

The Bats of Gotham have come up against a new threat wearing the signature Talon armor, and the call goes out to all available capes for help taking on the undead mercenary before another crime family ends up in the Obituaries rather than Blackgate.

The fact the Court is still up and running after the Batfamily took them down in a fiery blaze that ended with all their Talons gone, Sensei exposed, and most the ruling families imprisoned or poisoned by Lincoln March, is like a kick to the abdomen after they closed that particular book. Worse, with a new Talon soldier is sighted running around Gotham, another circus kid has been kidnapped and turned into the right hand of the Court of Owls. Dick, with his absolute survivors guilt, is the one to make going after the Talon and whoever is still behind the scenes a top priority.

Which is how they find themselves in the middle of Knight’s Stadium facing down a Talon that is too short to be March. Red Hood, Nightwing, Robin, Batgirl, and Black Bat pretty much got their asses handed to them in the first twelve minutes. Pretty hard to understand until you take into account the new and improved Talon facing them now is terrifying in a completely different way than most undead assassins are.

He knows them.

He knows them in ways that lets him fight fast and furious with vicious accuracy, striking at weaknesses few of the vigilantes of Gotham realized they even had.

He isn't as big as Lincoln or even Cobb, not nearly as old. He hasn't been kept in cryostasis waiting for the next generation to need his skills. He doesn't have creaks in his joints from being put on deep freeze too many times.

This one is silent and efficient, obviously trained in multiple types of martial arts, is highly proficient with or without the standard Talon knives, is a master tactician, counters the majority of their moves with alarming consistency–

and the fucking Talon has wings.

Honest-to-God wings.

Everyone had assumed the metal monstrosities on his back were weapons of some kind, but the glint of steel in the streetlight flash a warning before the lumps moved in an arch, extending far out past his shoulder blades, slicing into Red Hood’s body suit with a razor-sharp edge, shredding the armor like paper.

It’s not enough he’s got weapons obviously made specifically for his skill set, it’s not enough he’s an assassin and doesn’t hold to the same standards of non-lethal combat, it’s not enough that he can use his wings to fly or to fight like he’s using another limb to kick the shit out of them, and it’s not enough that he effortlessly counters so many of their attacks that he has to have some kind of inside information on all of them and their fighting styles.

The knives are definitely a thing when the Talon can throw them hard enough to penetrate parts of their suits in between armored plating, which further drives the theory that this is a person they’ve dealt with before. Intimately. Few people in the world know how their suits are made. Even more, few people know particulars enough when their suits are constantly reconstructed.

The only thing on their side that tipped the scales in their favor–

–the Batman.

The wings threw him off his game, obviously, but not enough to stop B from holding his own with swift and merciless force.

It's like watching a dance of fast and furious fists, blades in Talon's hands glinting deadly in the night, finding B's suit over and over and over until he's made it to blood and bone. He takes every hit the Batman can dish out, head snapping back, left, and right with the volley of jaw-breaking blows and bone-shattering kicks.

None of it gives the Talon pause. When a move makes him drop a blade, another is already in hand, cutting into their body suits, wings flipping out to defend or distract, sweeping moves and well coordinated attacks.

The unnatural appendages are like another arm, another leg, an extension working on the same central nervous system, regardless as to how the Court managed to make it happen.

A jump kick off a trash can is a lucky shot as a wing catches B in the ribs hard enough to knock him into the wall of Mike's Famous Hotdogs. The only thing saving the Dark Knight from a concussion or permanent brain damage is the plating in his cowl.

It gives the Talon enough time to make a final bid for a battered Nightwing, Red Hood, and Robin struggling to their feet again, eyes for their fallen mentor.

Before he can lunge forward to start the attack yet again, the Talon just stops, pauses like he’s stuck or something, and in the span of a breath, both wings extend fully, flap powerfully once to propel him up into the Gotham night.

O tries her best to track his flight through the city, but no one’s arms are working well enough to toss a tracker on him.

She loses him over Cape Carmine, slams her palms against her system in frustration, makes sure she gets as much footage from the confrontation as possible.

After some sleep and a whole lot of bandages and ice packs, the Bat family meets in the Cave to watch the footage, breakdown the Talon’s fighting style, his weaponry, and make theories on his identity.

O helps out with readings she has of electronic pulses she managed to capture coming from the armor over his wings. She thinks she might be able to use it to track him if they can get close enough for her equipment to ping the signal again.

B makes a trip to Arkham since Freeze apparently hasn’t stopped producing the formula used to put Talons in cryostasis.

It’s not until Gotham’s power grid has a massive surge that O and the Bats can pinpoint a possible location, all of them invested in one hell of a fight to get the last rats still scurrying in the underground.

The plan of attack comes together smoothly once they’ve scoped out the location, seen the shady activity, and together, they make one hell of a plan.

And because, you know, Gotham, it is completely normal for the Court of Owl's headquarters to have a skylight.

Natch.

For this one, they've got Batgirl and Black Bat, Red Hood and Robin, Nightwing and B, a real family affair.

O's quiet voice over comms leading them through the maze of traps and empty rooms, abandoned libraries and spooky ball rooms. The laboratory isn't the most horrific they've all ever seen (because the Joker's summer place is literally the stuff of nightmares), but a few of them do gag on the smell alone.

The plan, however, goes horribly awry when the clear sounds of tormented screaming echoes from right under their reinforced bootheels.

Black Bat's fists clench hard, her breathing wheezes out when the tone, the utter agony goes right through her.

A shudder slides up Robin's spine as all of them turn toward the noise.

Without a flicker or a word, the Batman moves, strafing in the shadows toward the sound. He can't assume it's an innocent civilian with something the Court wants, but he's betting on the fact that scream will lead them to whoever is running the show.

The medieval room has bars and reinforced locks, implements hanging on the wall. The cement brick is stained rust colored with old blood, the vestiges of training, and the awful realization they've found another hidden niche in the city that always existed right under their noses is punctuated with the abrupt drop in temperature, with the sudden charge in the air, with the zzzzcrack snapping beyond the door, replaced with a muted buzzing Robin can feel in his back teeth.

B is already on his way to the roof, Batgirl down through the floor vent while Nightwing picks the locks with fast precision, knocking the tumblers around.

Robin and Red Hood stay close to the reinforced door, balancing on the balls of their feet, katana and .45s at the ready.

Black Bat takes the high road, ceiling tiles giving way under her Bat-a-rang. She gives a sharp nod before she's up and gone.

"All right. Ready?" Nightwing stands, cracks his neck, flips his escrimas in both hands, works his shoulders to prepare for the strain of each blow he plans to give.

"Ya betcha ass," Hood murmurs low, a cut figure with both guns at his sides, gloved fingers on the trigger guard.

"Don't disappoint," Robin snarls, "either of you."

"Nice pep talk, squirt," Nightwing snickers.

"Tt, back up your mouth with action."

"Better shuddap, Demon. Golden Boy ain't fuckin' 'round. Neither is the Bat. We get one more chance a' this asshole. We ain't gonna blow it again, ya feel me?"

"Finally, something we agree on, Hood."

"Other than N's shitty mullet?"

Nightwing swiftly glares at them both over his shoulder, unconsciously putting himself front and center of the trio, ready to be the first in once they get the signal.

– which is the sound of the glass raining down from the heavens.

Three booted feet kick the door hard enough to take it off the hinges, lying against the faded stains like a fallen body.

First step in the room is the complete opposite to what they'd all been expecting.

The two Owl masks aren't the usual, but a perversion of the originals, crudely drawn yawning mouths complete with fangs dripping blood.

But.

The boy on his knees, arms in a binder holding the appendages hostage at a painful angle, is dripping the real thing. Rivulets down his chest and where his back is partially visible. Some from the base of the wings going into the back of his shoulder blades where the skin is torn and raw.

The bar gag shoved in his mouth doesn't take away from the splatters on his chin, the bruising on his face, the swollen eye. But it's his wings that makes the Bats falter from the initial rushing attack.

His wings are without the armor, are bound straight up above his restrained body with hooks grotesquely puncturing through the downy softness, desecrating the beauty with blood and gore. The angle makes the pull to his back where the wings are part of him just another agony on top of atrocity.

"Fuck," from the first Owl mask, and a swift move frees the Talon's bound arms, the appendages flopping uselessly to the floor, only his trapped, tortured wings keeping him up on his knees.

The second Owl shoves the first back, "let him take care of them. Let's get out of here!"

The first Owl snarls out something low and foreign, the phrases rolling off his tongue.

The words lock into place, and the Talon's head snaps up, snarling around the gag in his mouth.

When his face is finally, finally visible, the protectors of Gotham are frozen in their tracks.

Familiar violet-blue eyes, too-long blue-black hair, cut jawline and pointed nose. Tiny scar on his right cheek from the time he caught Ra's al Ghul's ring across the face.

"Jesus Fucking Christ," is barely heard through the Red Hood's synths and in no way fully expresses his utter horror at what these dirty motherfuckers have done.

Robin wretches, bile burning the back of his throat once those eyes swing up to the masked parody of the Owls and his bare upper body is visible through the blood and sweat on his chest, when the scars peeking through on his collar bones form a half-visible Y-incision, when the coloring of the bared wings now makes sense (robin's wings, Damian Wayne thinks with his heart beating pitter patter fast, and his stomach in knots, they put robin's wings on him...).

And the hurt, agonized noise coming out of Nightwing's chest is the only noise he can make when those dimmed, dazed eyes swing from the Owls back to the vigilantes frozen in their spots, when there's no spark of joy or fondness or stubbornness he's so used to seeing staring him down.

The errant thought, the first instinct, is the only humane way to deal with this new Talon is to put him down for good wars with the man behind the mask that only wants to reach out, wants to pull the Talon into his body and curve over, to scream at the injustice of it all, to rail at himself for not even suspecting.

Another switch flipped and the hooks release his wings, blood splattering on top the old stains.

"Get them! Don't fuck it up this time or you won't get another chance," the second Owl shoves the Talon's injured shoulder in the direction of the horrified vigilantes.

They don't even bother to take the gag out of his mouth before setting him on his target.

A flap of wings, and the Talon is on his feet again, swaying only slightly. He's in the boots and pants from earlier, the rest of his uniform tossed carelessly behind him by his tormentors. A sweep of his feet and the knives glint in bare palms, a whisper of a sound.

The curved, clawed blade glints in the overhead light when the Talon raises it and cuts the strap of the bar gag in his bloody mouth, turns his head to spit it out without looking away from the vigilantes.

The Batman, grim and stoic in the face of this surprising turn of events, gives the barest nod. From her hiding spot behind the complex machinery, Black Bat takes off after the running Owl members, leaving the rest of the family to deal with their former third Robin.

The wings flinchingly flare out and their former bird hunches over, ready for the attack.

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait,” the Red Hood removes the helmet, leaves the domino underneath. He keeps one hand out in peace, slowly dipping down to put his helmet on the ground. “Is us, Tim. Timmy. Baby Bird. Is us. Yer family. Gotta lookit us, yeah?”

For the first time, the Talon speaks, “who’s Tim?”

And then he lunges.

The fight happens very differently this time.

The former power behind the punches is obviously dulled with the Talon’s identity reveal. He doesn’t hold back, is utterly ruthless with his attacks. He takes out B’s right knee, puts Hood down on the stained floor, knocks Robin into the wall with crushing force, and slams Batgirl’s head off the operating table.

He stands over Nightwing, wicked blade in hand and robin’s wings spread wide. He takes a knee, the sharp edge right above N’s adam’s apple, staring down impassively into the whiteouts.

“Timmy,” N spits blood, grunting when one knee pins his arm down. “Timmy, please. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I love you and I’m sorry they did this to you.”

Those eyes don’t change in the slightest. “You should not have tried to oppose the Owls.”

“We beat them once,” Nightwing gasps, “and you helped us, Baby Bird. You were with us then, don’t you remember.”

“I was nothing before the Court perfected me,” the Talon replies emotionlessly.

“You were perfect before they ever touched you.”

“No,” and the Talon leans down, puts them a breath away. “The only thing you and those others do is put the criminals back in prison, back in Arkham for them to escape again, for them to kill and destroy over and over again. Like this, I can stop them permanently.”

“Oh Timmy,” and behind the whiteouts, Nightwing’s eyes spill over, his vision wavery. “Timmy–”

“Don’t call me that. Stop calling me that.”

“You know me, you know us. You have to remember–”

“Lies. All of it lies!”

Nightwing’s chest stutters, his fist clenching, “it’s not. None of it is. Not even this–”

And he’s fast enough to grab the back of the Talon’s neck, to lean up enough against the blade pressed against his throat, can bring their mouths together, can kiss him like he’s dying and the Talon is the only thing that can save him.

It’s sloppy and awkward because the Talon doesn’t know what’s happening, gasps against the vigilante’s mouth. The tongue sliding over his, the muffled moan in his mouth sparks something in the back of his brain where the Court of Owls could never touch.

When Nightwing pulls back, stares up at wide violet-blue eyes, when the blade falls away to clatter against the block, when the Talon’s mouth trembles and tears fill his eyes, when his wings flutter and falter, fold in on them both, when his voice goes hoarse with, “D-Dick?” Nightwing throws both arms around his waist and holds on.

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shelby-love · 4 years ago

Text

JAY HALSTEAD

Bomb Squad Alternative

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warning(s): none

Author's note: Here is another crossover between firefighter Y/N and Jay Halstead. Hope you enjoyed since I’m really proud lol. Personally I think this would be a great episode.

Requests for Jay are open again so send in your ideas! I’m thinking about putting out Christmas prompts since I’m feeling festive. Also, I’m quarantied :( went to test yesterday and I’m waiting for the results to kick in. I feel fine so I shouln’t worry but I still do yk? Anyhow, school is a b and I’m doing online atm (maybe high schools will switch to online completely until Christmas but who knows at this point).

It’s also exam weeks so that’s why I’ve been lacking time to get back to writing.

Now perpare for me to get on my knees for you at the end of this one shot. <3

“Everyone get out of the station!” You exclaimed, barging through the train station with the rest of 51. Your loud voices and heavy gear alerted everyone enough to get them to move back.

“What do you think you’re doing?” A police officer questioned, throwing an accusing eyebrow your way.

Your lieutenant left you to the police officer’s mercy with a nod of his head. You sighed, turning to the man but still keeping a steady pace with the rest of your team. “There is a bomb threat, we need to evacuate the train station.”

“A bomb threat? I didn’t get a call,” He fought, looking around as if the bomb might be anywhere. Which was true.

“The intelligence is on their way, but I suggest you give us some room to do our job,” Matt joined his voice with you to explain. Although he quickly returned to shouting.

Soon enough, you saw two dark clothed figures march down the stairs towards you. Your boyfriend came striding down towards all of you, his blue eyes assassinating the surrounding situation.

Until they fell on you.

He looks good, you allowed yourself to think. Admiring his lean figure - the leather jacket covering his muscular arms and proud CPD badge at his hip - you watched as he stalked towards you. The old lady that was clutching to your side shakily suddenly became invisible to your eyes.

You weren’t surprised to see his jaw tick at the sight of you, which made you shake your head in annoyance. Helping the lady catch the arms of a fellow firefighter became your priority. You watched as she walked outside on unsteady legs.

“Y/LN, Casey.” Your chief grabbed your attention, “What’s the situation?”

“Still no sight of the bomb chief,” Matt said. “We’re trying to get out as many people as possible.”

“It’s rush hour Chief,” You breathed, glancing at Jay for a second before giving Wallace your full attention. “The next train will be here in 10 minutes. If this bomb has a timer then that’s exactly when it will go off. We need the bomb squad here now.”

“Understood. Voight?”

The sergeant looked at Jay who shook his head. “Stuck in traffic.”

You caught Matt muttering a violent curse under his breath, which only tempted you to do the same.

“Chief we need help!”

Severide’s shout brought you and Matt to your senses immediately. There was no time to think as you both ran towards him with your heavy gear on both your shoulders.

“Y/N stop!”

It was Jay who made you halt in your tracks to turn around. “What?”

He reached for your elbow, and with ease pulled you away. “Look I...”

You knew what was going on in his head. His protective nature over you often interferes with many things, including your job. But not today.

“I know you’re worried Jay, okay?” You reasoned, gloved hands grabbing his forearms in reassurance. “But this is my job. Trust me - I hate that we’re put in this situation but there’s nothing we can do except have each other's back.”

Jay let out a loose breath of fear before masking it under a facade of blankness. He waved his hand at the police officers, giving them a sign to follow him. “Be careful.”

You bobbed your head before planting a kiss to his cheek and running back to the scene.

The sight in front of you broke your heart.

A tiny boy with tears coloring his face sat at the bench with his foot dangling over the edge, connected to what looked like a time bomb. He was all alone - barely even 7 years old, with a bright yellow beanie covering his blonde curls. Rosy tear stained cheeks, and blue eyes filled with fear made you drop on your knees immediately.

Carefully, you approached him. The fear that brew inside was pushed aside and you plastered on a smile. “Hi buddy. My name’s Y/N. We’re here to help you”

You seized the ticking bomb and managed to decipher the numbers. Shaking your head, you ignored the buzzing of your anxious heart and grabbed your radio, dialing. “We have three minutes chief. No time to wait for the bomb squad. I have to do it.”

***

Jay looked at the police officers who surrounded him in an uneven half circle, and shook his head. He could see the men trembling, hands shaking and beads of sweat appearing at their foreheads.

“Alright listen up,” He boomed. “We need to evacuate immediately. Threaten with arrest, I don’t care. Just get the civilians out of here.”

They nodded in sync, each man letting out a different toned response before leaving him be to watch what was revealing a few yards away. Jay wouldn’t admit it, but he was shaking inside. His fingertips itched to grab your heavily clothed body and swing you over his shoulder in an attempt to keep you safe... No matter how chauvinistic that sounded.

But Jay Halstead had decided to date a strong woman. A dedicated feminist at that - a woman that refused to be manhandled unless it was to take her to bed when she desired.

Now he watched her - you - shout and shove around the train station, desperate to do what his job was too. Was he a bad man for not really caring if that man that just brushed his expensive suit against his shoulder came out of there safe? He only had eyes on you, so that’s why he spent moments watching you work around like a hawk.

And then you kneeled, and your colleagues stepped out of the way. Without his permission, his dark brows bunched together and his eyes narrowed at your stature. What are you doing?

His answer fell from the sky quickly - although not literally. Voight and Boden strode to his side to discuss the situation.

“There is no time to wait for the bomb squad,” Boden said roughly, his jaw clenching. “If that bomb isn’t deactivated within the next 3 minutes not only is that boy going to die...everyone on this block will.”

Voight knew what he meant by that. Thousands of casualties. Not only will Chicago lose millions of dollars worth of repair if the block blows up - as first responders what came to their minds were the civilians. How many of them will die or be injured because of a simple mistake of following protocol and waiting? They had a firefighter there, on the scene, ready to disable the bomb and save them.

Only that firefighter was you. And that made their decision ten times harder to make.

But Boden was sure in you, and so was Voight. “Okay. Do what you gotta do.”

Wallace nodded, griping his radio. “Y/N. Go for it.”

Y/N? Jay couldn’t believe his ears. It completely slipped his mind that you had been trained for this. At that moment, his body and mind said no. He forgot all about equality you have been trying to tattoo into his mind. You were you at that moment. A simple girl he fell in love with and wanted to protect.

“What the hell Sarge?!”

***

“Okay,” You sighed enthusiastically, hoping to divert the boy’s attention to your relaxed posture. “I need you to be really still for me. Can you do that?”

The boy could barely nod as Sylvie held his head still in the cervical collar.

“What’s your name?” Sylvie asked him, ignoring the fact that two minutes were left on the clock. You went straight to work the moment his attention was diverted and his leg was no longer shaking.

Swiftly, you grasped the leg of his pants and pulled it up, revealing the leather that was sunk in his flesh. You winced, “His leg circulation is bad.”

“Just focus on the bomb,” She reassured you quietly.

You grabbed the equipment and started to work on disabling it. Each step was more difficult than the other. You felt yourself tremble as the end seemed to never come any closer to you no matter how much you reached for it. “Go.”

“What? We’re not leaving you.“ It was Severide who spoke, only a meter or two away from you. Shaking your head at another trap within the system you decided that you needed all the help you could get.

1 minute.

“Jay?” You murmured against the radio - Jay’s reply was instant.

“Y/N you can do this,” his voice was raspier through the line, more prominent and harsh. Nevertheless, his words soothed you.

“I need help,” you told him. “You said this man is crazy right? Well I think there’s a story here. These wires mean something. Blue, white, yellow.”

You weren’t allowed to go for it... not when so many lives were at risk. This man was smart, that much you knew. There has to be a meaning behind the colors.

Jay could help you more than anyone. You knew it. He knew it too.

Blue, white, yellow.

***

“Blue, white, yellow.” He mumbled, not allowing himself to look at his watch. You didn’t have much time, he knew it - Jay just didn’t want a definite reminder of it.

He rocked his brain for explanations. For a clue within this case. Something.

30 seconds.

“Everyone evacuate now!” Boden shouted into his radio. Jay shut it out. His voice didn’t matter. Only you did.

Like an eagle, he searched for you and found you: crouched in front of the yellow capped boy, acting like his anchor he could hold onto. He couldn’t see how shaky you were from afar, he could only hope you were okay.

10 seconds.

“Jay!”

Yellow.

“This kid was his last target. He looks for the details,“ He explained to you. “Yellow.”

***

Like his beanie. You casted a stray glance at the boy, flashing him a tight lipped smile. The puffy beanie that was supposed to protect him from the cold just became the thing that saved his life. And the poor boy didn’t even know it.

3...

This is it.

2...

You didn’t think, only did what Jay told you. You cut through the yellow wire and stop the ticking destruction at the last second.

No sound is heard.

No man moves.

Only rigid breathing of your own manages to make its way inside your ears.

And then the boy starts to wail. His cries turn into what look like never ending sobs. You were glad he’s crying, and not in a bad way. The sound he started to make was a clear indicator of your survival. The bomb didn’t go off. You were safe. You never felt more alive.

Your friends swiped you in their arms immidiately. Every firefighter gave you a congratulation you never thought you would recieve. You just disabeled a bomb.

And it looked like you were the only one shocked.

Still shaking, your eyes searched for the man that helped you.

But Jay was already there, and by the time you turned around to search for him he had his fingertips around you. With a clean tug he pushed you against his chest and hugged you. His breathing was just as harsh as your own, but inside - he never felt prouder.

“You had my back,” you mumbled. Jay pulled a moment later, his blue eyes gazing down at you before he laughed. Laughed. “You were amazing baby.”

“You really think so?”

“I do. Now let’s get you out of here.” He smiled, slipping his hand into yours and pulling you towards the exit. You were cheered after of course, it made your heart swell with pride.

On your way outside you saw the bomb squad, standing in lines next to their equipment. “Nice work guys.” Jay said sarcastically.

The two of you made your way to the shaky boy to make sure he was alright. People were gathered outisde, now that the threat was removed. Each and every one of them had their eyes glazed with tears of relief.

Their homes were safe. Their families were too.

Boden gave you the rest of the day off, and Jay was the one to drive you home.

“Let’s hope our work doesn’t clash like that ever again.”

“I agree,” Jay said quietly and pressed his lips safely against yours.

MASTERLIST

###

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#jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead fanfiction #jay halstead x reader #Chicago PD #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd fanfiction #CHICAGO FIRE #chiacgo fire imagine #chicago fire fanfictio #reader oneshot

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realcube · 4 years ago

Text

LEAVING MIDORIYA

part one (nsfw) | part two

tw// mentions of toxic relationships, drinking & mention of a bombing

honestly, if you were given enough time you probably could’ve figured it out on your own — without the assistance of a psychiatrist — but exactly one appointment later, you were left with the disheartening realisation that you weren’t having ‘bad dreams’ and the marks on your body weren’t inflicted by yourself during slumber. eventually, the fact set in that it was your sweet, gentle fiancée who was the cause of all these things.

this whole time, you were under the impression that you were the problem, that there was a malicious part of you that wanted to paint deku out to be some sort of villain; and now you were finally made aware that a villain is exactly what he is.

it was a hard conclusion to come to but the initial wave of relief you felt was enough to make you act on it quickly, as the more you waited around and let the fact sink in, the more you doubted whether or not to take action. but reasoning isn’t what you need right now, you just need to get away from him.

where will you go? you had no idea, but any where away from him is good enough.

midoriya didn’t even get enough time to try fill your head with even more lies. you came marching into the apartment with the intention of ignoring everything he says and simply pack your stuff so you can leave. no matter how much he screamed, begged or yelled, it was like trying to hold a conversation with a brick wall hence he eventually gave in, leaving you to collect your things in peace as there was clearly no way he was going to get through to you.

you left without another word — not even a goodbye — and you were sure to sneak your engagement ring out with you. although it made you sick to look at, realistically you might need the cash since as soon as you stepped outside your shared apartment with your shit in bags, you were officially homeless.

no need to worry though, you had arranged to stay the night at a friend’s house until tomorrow morning, then you could catch the train to your parent’s. from there, you’d stay with them until you manage to find a new apartment within your price range.

one problem; your friend just texted you saying that they have to retract their offer because their landlord doesn’t allow over two people to sleep in the same dorm, and they already have a roommate. very unfortunate but hey, what can you do? plus, they apologised and offered to pay for your hotel but you reassured them that their money wouldn’t be necessary.

now sitting outside your old apartment complex, scrolling through your phone looking for the nearest hotel. since both you and deku were well-paid pro-heroes and bought a penthouse in a rather affluent area, it was no surprise that most of the hotels that were reasonably close were from 4-5 stars.

although a 5-star hotel room for one night really wasn’t necessary, the post-breakup adrenaline was telling you otherwise. it also told you that treating yourself to a shopping spree, getting wine drunk at a bar and then shuffling back to the hotel with mcdonald’s take-out was a great idea!

those emotional discussions you had with complete strangers must’ve really gotten to you because when you opened your front camera to take some pictures, you immediately grimaced at the sight of your mascara staining your cheeks. you were lazing around in the hotel lobby surrounded by name brand gift bags — waiting for your room key — looking like that? how embarrassing.

quickly wiping away your tears, you put on a pair of designer sunglasses you brought earlier to shield your smudged eye-makeup from the world. not that you cared what anyone in this damn lobby thought of you anyway, you were only going to be here for one night, after that you would never see most of these people again. or at least, that is what you thought.

out of the corner of your eye, you saw flashing lights which prompted you to take out your earbuds but once you did, you instantly regretted it as all you heard was screaming and yelling from the entrance. looking up, you noticed an average-looking guy wearing a skull tank top resembling the fashion sense of a middle schooler, being followed by a mob of screaming fans, paparazzi and gossip channel reporters.

“dynamight! thank you for everything!”

“you deserve to be number one!”

“we are here at scene, pro-hero dynamight has just been seen entering what appears to be his five star accommodation, wearing his signature blac--”

the loud noises were suddenly muffled as the doorman shut the entrance behind him, leaving things just as they were, except now there was a muscular blond man encircled by bodyguards staring daggers at you.

in any other situation, you would’ve just tried your best to ignore him but some of that liquid courage was beginning to get to you, so your reaction was to snarl right back at him, yelling across the hall, “take a picture, why don’t ya? it’ll last longer.”

only upon processing your reply did the man finally snap out of his trance and storm up to, being hastily followed by his guards who looked as though they were ready to throw down at any given moment, so of course you cowered back in your seat, apologies waiting on the tip of your tongue, ready to spill until his face was hovering centimetres away from yours.

your throat ran dry at his unexpected action, your eyes scanning over his chiselled features through the tint of your glasses. in a turn of events, you were now the one speechlessly staring at him. then, a deep chuckle erupted from his throat, causing the shock to show on your expression.

“i knew i recognised you! you’re stupid deku’s girlfriend- fiancée or whatever; i saw the invite for your wedding in my mail and i just got a look at your face before i threw it away. small world.” the blond continued to laugh, talking to you as if you were an old friend of his despite the fact you’ve never seen him before in your life, “anyway, you like a hot fuckin’ mess. where’s deku?”

why was he talking to you so casually? and how dare he say that!

“first of all,” you started, peering over your glasses to gaze at his face without the rose tint but to no avail, you still had no idea who this man is. using the soles of your palm, you pushed him away by the shoulders as he was a bit too close for comfort, but that resulted in all his guard looking at you with murderous glints in their eyes. “deku and i broke up--”

“when?” he cut you off

“let me finish.” you glared at him, fixing your sunglasses, “we broke up this morning. secondly, who the fuck are you?”

the man looked like he was ready to burst out laughing once again until he had a visible realisation, “eh, well, we’ve never met before but i’m sure deku has told you about me. if not, you’ve probably seen me in the news; i saved around a thousa--”

“no, i’ve not watched the news for, like, the past six months.” this time, you cut him off with a mischievous smirk which you tried your best to conceal.

“bitch! let me fuckin’ finish!” he barked, then had a sudden change in demeanour as he let out a sigh, momentarily silent as he scanned the surrounding area, “i’m bakugo. kastuki.”

your reply of a blank stare spoke a thousand words.

“y’know, dynamight.”

who?

“the number two hero!”

nothing.

“the one who saved that whole airline from blowing up just a week ago! c’mon, it was all over the fuckin’ news!”

“you look like a hotter version of my old maths teacher. oh, and i’m (y/n) (l/n).” was the only verbal response he was able to get out of you, even after all his explaining.

“why do you i feel like you are sayin’ that just to piss me off?” he muttered to himself through gritted teeth, followed by a sharp inhale which you assumed was an attempt to calm himself down. his carnelian eyes darted around the room, halting once he raised his arm to view his watch. his brows knitted together as he read the time, forming a concentrated look which was short-lived as his face was quick to relax, emphasised by a slight shrug as if to say ‘i’ve got time’, before slumping down on the couch next to you.

“so why did you and shitty deku break up?”

“i may be a bit tipsy but i’m not just gonna tell that sorta stuff to a complete stranger.” each syllable felt like it had to be forced out one at a time, but you’d rather that than slur you speech as bakugo seemed like the type to poke fun at you for it.

“i just wanna know how badly he fucked up this time.” bakugo smirked, propping his elbow up on the back of the couch to turn and look at you, “eh, i don’t think we’ll be strangers for long.”

there was a certain purr in this voice which sent blood rushing to your cheeks as you never expect someone like him to come on so strong. not that you were complaining, i mean, being in his presence during a time like this felt like a gift from god but you weren’t going to let him know that. it’d only add to his already massive ego so you decided to ignore his suggestive behaviour, opting to show disinterest instead, “hm, you think?”

it was almost comical how fast bakugo’s cocky smirk fell into a frown. honestly, he wasn’t used to people that he flirts with rejecting him, considering that he rarely ever makes moves on anyone. so, now what did he do? due to the foreign nature of this situation, bakugo felt as though he was left with no choice but to bargain, since he’s far from a quitter, “oi, what that supposed to mean?”

you shrug.

bakugo clicked his tongue along with a roll of his eyes before he said, “how ‘bout this; i pay for your room tonight and in exchange we can get to know each other tomorrow.”

“i can pay for my own room though.”

bakugo deadpanned, he honestly thought he had won but apparently not. perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to hit on someone who had just gotten out of a relationship but whatever. “you’re impossible.” he spat, getting up from the couch and marching away, presumably to his room.

he tried to brush off the encounter like it never happened, reassuring himself that he didn’t have to think much of it as he could get with anyone else. plus, you’d probably come crawling back to him, begging to fuck once you get over deku anyway.

and he was half right.

eventually, you came to the realisation that both you and bakugo have one thing in common — a hatred for deku. and as it turns out, hatred provides a good groundwork for friendship.

#deku angst #izuku angst #bakugo x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugo x y/n #midoriya angst #👾angst #i'll probably have to make a part 4 for this to make sense

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hesgunnalovethis · 4 years ago

Text

Greenhouse Planet

Prompt : ( ty @write-it-motherfuckers )

“How the hell are you still alive?”

“Honestly, I’m just as confused as you are”

Leonard x Reader

Word count: 2755

TW: OC death, blood mention, medbay

A/N: you ever make up your own planet and species? me too apparently.

Greenhouse Planet:

“Jim stand still will you.” You watched as Leonard McCoy struggled through the small gathering in the transporter room completing his pre-mission checks. Usually he liked to be more prepared but with Jim Kirk - the worst patient in the fleet - leading the Enterprise, he had to make exceptions.

“Bones, please, I had a check-up last month.” Kirk said punching co-ordinates into the control desk, much to Scotty’s dismay.

“You had 6 broken bones that month, Jim.”

“Yeh and I’m sure they’ve healed.”

You watched Lee’s face curl looking at the results of the little readings he’d gathered from Jim before admitting defeat and sliding his tricorder back into his pocket.

You followed the others onto the transporter platform ready to face whatever was waiting planetside when you felt familiar hands wrap round your waist. Instinctively, you let yourself relax into the curves of your partner. Every inch of you belonged together, bodies fitting seamlessly.

“You don’t have to come, Y/N” Leonard rumbled softly into your ear, sending a shiver down your back.

You wrapped your hand around his, turning to look into his incomparable blue eyes and throwing a playful look over his lips “Good to know you still worry about me even after all these years.”

“Worry? Me? Never.” Leonard scoffed, “It’s just, part of me just thinks you’re too pretty to be doing this kind of dirty work”

“Maybe you can make it up to me later?” You said running your hand up his arm to rest on his bicep. An intimate moment positively overlooked by the rush of the room.

“You know I hate talking about ‘later’ before this kind of thing.” Leonard sighed more to himself than to you.

You had often spoken about the increasing dangers on recent fieldwork.

“Ah, my Southern pessimist.” You said giving Leonard’s arm a comforting tap.

“One of these days I’m going to be right.” The infamous grumpy doctor persona had returned.

“You’ll never be right, Leonard. Not while I’m around.” You smirked and joined the others settling on the transporter platform.

Leonard followed. You could feel his eyes burning into you while Jim finished conferring with Scotty at the panel. His gaze didn’t budge.

“Okay, Scotty” Jim said taking his place at the front of the crew “Standby.”

***

Once your body had reconfigured itself you were in a jungle like landscape. Surrounded by tall plants you watched as your crewmates looked around equally confused, some picking unidentified green out of their hair and clothes.

Jim addressed the group. “This planet belongs to Bokencams. Bokencams are known for their botany but also for their lack of humanity. That means stay on task, stay out of sight. Starfleet had cultivated a healing plant which was promptly stolen. It’s our job to get it back. I’ll go in to reason with them while Andrews, Clarke and Y/L/N look for a point of entry. These creatures aren’t known for their intellect which means the plant should be easy to locate once inside. Got it?”

Mumbles of assurance rippled through the group.

“Doctor McCoy and Lieutenant Uhura you’ll be here listening in for language and translation. The rest of you cover ground and cover each other. Eyes everywhere and comm anything unusual in.”

Everyone began to prepare for their own tasks: Jim shirt off and wiring himself, the red shirts activating phasers and Bones looking high strung. He pulled Jim aside, “Don’t you think I should be closer in on this action, Jim? I don’t recall anyone else having years of medical training to hand?”

“I need your brains here, Bones.” Jim said clapping his back pointing Leonard towards his portable control panel.

“Come on you three” Jim said pulling his top back over his head, “The sooner we get out of here the better. I hate greens.”

You, Jim and the 2 others began towards the seemingly empty green dome which sat perfectly isolated amongst the greenhouse planet. Getting closer Jim signalled for you all to split off, Clarke taking east, you taking west, Andrews taking south and Jim taking north towards the front door.

The tall plants made it easy to slip into your assigned station unseen and to your surprise the entire building seemed unguarded.

You could see Jim beginning his strut towards the front door of the dome with no attempt to conceal himself. He wanted the attention on him. That was how his plans often went. Very Aries of him.

After all three of you had confirmed your position Jim stepped into the building without any trouble.

The comms were silent.

Getting to work you ran your eyes over the immense building. It stretched for miles each way. You began looking for any entrance. The distinct lack of windows was the first thing to jump out at you. The second was the space between the dome and the moss covered ground giving the building the appearance it was floating.

You waited what seemed like hours with the anticipation but was likely a plethora of minutes before emerging from your cover bolting towards the underneath of the dome.

Drowned in darkness on your hands and knees you dragged your hands across the underneath of the building. The material was nothing like you had felt before. Somewhere between glass and beads.

You crawled through the damp ground for miles every inch of the underneath feeling eerily the same. You were beginning to lose hope when you felt a crack. You froze and ran your hand back over the beaded glass. Definitely a space. You crawled again searching for the same space parallel which could suggest a door.

“Y/L/N come in.” rang from your comm. You ignored it. “McCoy to Y/L/N come in.”

Your hand ran over another definite space. Rolling into the centre of the somewhat door you lifted your feet and hands to the beaded glass and began to push. With very little effort the hatch lifted enough for you to climb inside.

You appeared to be in a lab. Green seemed to cover the entirety of the inside as well. You grabbed your comm, and rang to all ground comms “Y/L/N, stationed West, inside dome. Repeat. This is Y/L/N, stationed West, inside dome. Over.” Leonard’s voice came immediately “I love you. Be careful.” You switched off your comm.

***

Bones knew you’d be the first in. You were good at your job. He just didn’t let himself admit it until he heard the message through the comm. Uhura reached out to squeeze his hand but Leonard pulled away. He would detach and get on with the job. Or try. They listened into Jim’s meeting with the Bokencams,

“You have nothing to collect. It’s property of this planet. Here it can be stored at its optimum.”

“And how have you been storing it exactly?”

Jim was stalling. Giving as much time as possible to those working around the dome. And it could’ve worked.

***

The dome was silent. You couldn’t tell if it was empty or sound proof. You weaved in and out of the green rows scrutinising every plant. One seemed to have stories written on the stems, another with the softest looking leaves you had ever seen. You ran your hand over the soft looking plant which sent a searing cut over your palm. ‘Should’ve seen that one coming’ you thought.

Behind the soft plant was a small glass cube. Inside was the purest green your eyes had ever met. The edges of the leaves appeared whitened as if touched by a December morning. That had to be what you were here for.

You slid the top off of the cube and carefully removed a cultivation of the plant. Unsure how else to test your theory you picked off a leaf and placed it on your tongue. Instantly you gashed hand sealed without a scar. You pressed the plant into your pocket and headed back for the hatch when you saw a green creature sliding through the space you had made. His eyes fixated on you before you had a chance to move. His thick fingers reached towards your arm extending way past where they should’ve. He bound your arms with a vine and marched you out of the lab door.

You couldn’t be sure where he was taking you but you knew it couldn’t be good. The creature had moved you round enough corners to be totally disoriented. Every green wall looked the same and there was no way to retrace your steps back to the hatch.

From the corner of your eye you saw a familiar looking red through a window amongst the green. Your head shot backwards making eye contact with Clarke. So you were east. Good to know.

“Y/N?!” Clarke mouthed through the window.

A segment of wall opened. A disguised door. And Clarke stood phaser pointed, face stern. All around him identical green creatures materialised from walls and ceilings crowding him. The Bokencam guarding you extended his arm into the crowd and released a phaser shot. Several of the green creatures fell backwards. Dead. He shot again and Clarke’s body thudded to the ground.

Your chest tightened enough to double you over. You felt winded. You tried to call his name but nothing came out. Your feet could barely support your weight never mind fight against the direction you were pushed. The creature holding you continued to march not batting an eyelid. He had killed tens of his own for one of you. The lack of humanity brief truly was not a warning. You kept your eyes on Clarke willing the blood to spill back into his body until he was completely out of sight.

***

Bones was barely listening to the conversation anymore. His thoughts were consumed by you. His mind immediately considering the worst possible outcome. Assuring himself he was overthinking he tuned back into the conversation.

“Guess I’ll pack it up then. Thank you for your time.” Jim began to close out the meeting.

“Now that you have wasted our time I think you should be offering some sort of penance. Would you not agree, Captain?” The green creature in front of him snarled back.

“I don’t think that’s necessary at all. I would actually argue that we’re now even.”

“Maybe we could change your mind.”

Bones sat up bracing himself for whatever mess Jim had talked himself into.

“No,” Jim said with no attempt to hide his own panic, “Y/N?”

Bones’ body went stiff.

“Y/N?!” Uhura asked, “Did he just say Y/N?”

Bones picked up his phaser and started towards to dome.

***

“Y/N are you alright?” Jim asked as tears began to fall from your eyes, Clarke’s body falling to the ground replaying over and over in your mind. “Y/N what happened.” Jim took a few steps towards you as all of the creatures raised their phasers.

“DON’T” you yelled to Jim, “They killed Clarke. They killed him right in front of me. They killed their own to do it.”

You watched as man who didn’t believe in no win scenarios calculated this in his head.

“So here’s what’s gonna happen.” Jim said to the creatures, a clear switch in his persona. “You’re going to hand over Lieutenant Y/L/N to me, right now. We’re going to walk out of that door and return to where our crew is stationed. We’re going to pack up and we’re going to leave.”

“No Captain I think that’s what you want to happen. But let me tell you how it goes here. First-“ The creature was cut off by the sound of doors clambering.

You looked up to see Leonard McCoy - hater of fieldwork - standing in the doorway accompanied by a plethora of red shirts, phasers charged.

“Hand her over. Now.” Bones said stalking towards you.

“Is this all about her?” The creature who had led you through the green corridors said kicking your back, sending your body forward and the leaf which had been resting on your tongue down your throat. Leonard’s face stiffened. “It is isn’t it?” The creature laughed “Well then let me make this very easy for you.”

The world went in slow motion.

Your eyes focussed on Leonard, managing the weakest of smiles as the phaser behind you released and shattered into your side.

The rush of familiar coloured shirts flooded the room you were in. Phasers shot in all directions and your body seized.

You found yourself laying across Leonard’s lap, as if it had always been there. Together you lay as one. Fitting seamlessly.

Leonard fussed over your side speaking words you couldn’t fully understand. You grabbed his working hands in yours.

“Hey,” he said brushing stray hair out of your face “You’re doing really well stay with me. Tell me something. Anything.”

“Maybe you were right.” you whispered looking up at him.

“I’ll never be right, Y/N, not while you’re around.” He placed a bloody hand behind your neck, thumb stroking your jawline.

“Bones!” Jim shouted through the fighting, “Help them!”

But you could see on Leonard’s face, there was nothing he could do.

Leonard pulled you close releasing a gentle sob by your ear.

“I love you too.” You whispered into the darkness

***

Leonard McCoy stood in a private room in his medbay looking at his soulmates cold body. He half heartily picked up the chart which lay on the bedside as he had so many times before. He read over the details as he had so many times before.

‘Lutenient Y/N Y/L/N

Time of death: 15:34

Killed in Action’

He checked his watch.

18:32.

Maybe it was time.

He brushed his hand over your forehead tucking your hair behind your ears. He had no more tears left to spill. He took your hand in his and placed a forceful kiss on your forehead.

“I’m sorry.” He stated. Not remorseful. Not angrily. Just stated.

His pressed the buzzer by the bed letting the on duty nurses know you were ready to be collected.

A small team arrived flashing sympathetic smiles towards Leonard.

He instinctively started to help until Nurse Chapel put a hand to his chest. “You don’t have to do this bit Leonard.” He nodded his head and stood back as the rest of the nurses wheeled your bed out of the room. “Go home.” She said squeezing his hands and then she left closing the door behind her.

Leonard knew he would still be expected to work. They were too far into deep space to get extra crew. But for now Chapel was right Leonard needed to go home. To his empty quarters you both called home.

Leonard began to cry again. Because now it was over.

He could hear a situation in the corridor. Biobeds going wild. Nurses shouting. But his instincts didn’t kick in until he heard them call out his name.

“DOCTOR MCCOY!” They shouted for the second time as Leonard drew a hand down his face picking up his medical pack and moved into the corridor were you sat upright on the bed.

Leonard was frozen for a minute. Legs stuck to the ground. Then he heard your voice.

“Move! MOVE!” He shouted as he rushed to your side his eyes flickering all over your face and then to the monitors beside you. “How the hell are you still alive?!”

“Honestly, I’m just as confused as you are.” You leaped forward from the bed towards Leonard but he pushed you backwards lifting your top to look at your wound, brows knitted.

“Really, Leonard? You’re really killing the moment here.”

“It’s gone? How the hell is it gone?” He ran his fingers over your side.

You reached your hand into your pocket revealing the greenest plant with the crystallised leaves.

“You FOUND IT?!”

“Believe it or not Leonard I’m not awful at my job.”

“How did that- but how did it work?”

You cast your mind back to Leonard appearing at the dome doors, “I swallowed it. I had one of its leaves in my mouth, I accidentally swallowed it when they pushed me.”

“Sorry, you ATE an unidentified plant you’d JUST found?” Leonard said, disgust covering his face.

“...Yeh.”

“Again. How the HELL are you still alive.” Leonard wrapped his arms around your back lifting you from the bed. You wrapped your legs around his body.

An intimate moment that was positively seen by the room. Neither of you cared. It made sense. Every inch of you belonged together. There you stayed, fitting together seamlessly.

#star trek #star trek fic #Star Trek Fanfiction #star trek imagines #leonard mccoy imagines #leonard mccoy fanfiction #leonard mccoy x reader #bones star trek #bones x reader #doctor mccoy #dr mccoy #mccoy x reader #mccoy

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starsfic · 3 years ago

Note

Random idea, but secret relationship Spicynoodles, except nobody's figured it out by the time S3 rolls around. So Red joins the crew somehow and he and MK have much more time together... except there's a ton more people around so they can't be too romantic otherwise questions will start coming.

A/N: I think @its-kall-the-clown got a similar prompt...

-_-

Footsteps were his only warning before a hand slammed into the wall next to his head. He couldn't help but yelp in surprise, dropping his book to flatten himself against the wall. "Nowhere to run, Noodle Boy."

Xiaotian looked up at the words, a fond smile tugging at his lips. "Why would I want to run away?"

Neither of them did. After all, this had been the most privacy they had gotten together, all alone in the small hallway. Red smiled back before moving forward to seal their lips together. Xiaotian let out a small sigh, leaning into the kiss.

Things had started small. Red Son had dropped by after DBK had been freed, just to make clear that the family owned the Monkie Kid a favor for his help. A week later, the two had bumped into each other at the hardware store- Xiaotian getting a gift for Xiaojiao, Red trying to replace a tool he had broken. Soon enough, the two had found themselves bumping into each other again and again.

Eventually, numbers had been exchanged. And then things had exploded, leading to them making out in the Inferno Truck. After that, their relationship had taken a turn.

And then everything with Lady Bone Demon had happened-

That doesn't matter right now.

The point was, Xiaotian was very happy to spend more time with Red. He just wished that it was in less crowded areas.

Like now, with footsteps just around the corner. Xiaotian pushed Red away, his little inner voice protesting that they'd only kissed for a few seconds. Tang walked past, not even looking up from his book. When he was out of sight, he let out a sigh-

"That's it!"

"What?"

But Red didn't answer him. His hair sparking, his boyfriend turned and marched down the hallway, soon disappearing around the corner. Xiaotian gaped at where he'd last seen his partner, worry and concern mixing together. The loud slam of a door didn't help.

He picked up his book and followed Tang.

Whatever Red was doing, he wasn't getting involved.

An hour later, Xiaotian had returned to his book. His lovestruck haze had died down and, for right now, he was at peace. Next to him, Tang was still reading. Xiaojiao leaned against the side tapping on her phone, a small tune audible from her headphones. It was quiet.

Peaceful.

And broken with an explosion.

Several yelps and screams rolled through the ship. His mind awashed with panic and he scrambled to his feet. Were they being attacked? Was the ship falling apart?

"It sounded like it came from downstairs!" Tang called, throwing his book aside. With that, the trio scrambled downstairs. Xiaotian pulled out the baton Pigsy had given him as they ran, prepared for a fight. They all turned a corner and came to a stop.

Pigsy and Red both wielded fire extinguishers and were currently batting back a fire in the latter's room. Xiaotian put away the baton to cross his arms instead, watching as the duo put out the flames.

Finally, whatever fire had been created had been put out. Pigsy took a look inside, hissed, and shut the door. "Whatever you were working on completely destroyed the room," he reported. "Sorry Sandy."

"It's alright!" the water demon said, patting the fire demon on the shoulder. "These things happen and I'm just glad everyone's okay. The only issue is that I don't have any spare cabins..." Unnoticed by anyone else, Red winked at Xiaotian.

Oh. Oh!

"He can stay with me!" Xiaotian held up his hand, waving it a bit to emphasize his volunteering. "I have plenty of room! It wouldn't be an issue."

Sandy gave a bright grin, clapping a hand on Red's shoulder again. Except, this time, it was apparently hard enough to make the demon wince. "Great! Glad that's all settled! You two can see what you can salvage from Red's room once it's cooled down in there."

With the excitement gone, everyone walked away, leaving the new roommates alone. Xiaotian sighed the moment he was sure everyone was gone. He turned to his boyfriend, raising a brow.

"Really?"

"I'll pay for the damages," Red said, slinging an arm around Xiaotian's shoulders to start leading him down the hall. "But, for now, I think we should go to our room. See what needs rearranging so I can fit."

A small smile tugging at his lips, Xiaotian couldn't help but nod in agreement.

#my writing #Spicynoodleshipping #Monkie Kid #Lego Monkie Kid #MK #Qi Xiaotian #Red Son #Pigsy #Tang #Sandy

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dapandapod · 4 years ago

Text

Jaskier needs a hug

Honestly, @the-glorious-half-pints-twin, this started out as your prompt and morphed into something else. Im intending to write your prompt more properly because it’s super cute ang got Soft Potential that I crave.

But this is not what brain did today, so this is looooooosely based on your prompt, with another on it’s way.

In the mean time, please have goofy random cuddles with a Dramatic Jaskier and Geralt with.. kind of a sense of humor?

Anyway, please enjoy! On Aoe here!

~~*~~

It’s been weeks. Months. Years.

Yes, Jaskier is dramatic, what do you want?! Point is, Jaskier needs a hug. Just a hug. Arms around him, or his arms around somewhere else. He isn’t fuzzy, but frankly, there isn’t too much to hug around these parts.

All the good ladies are taken (it’s not much of a problem but Geralt uses that unhappy frown on him for days if he goes for it), most of the men lack most of their teeth (not really required for hugging, but that is usually not their only problem) and in general, most people he met wanted hugs to go somewhere behind closed doors.

Not that Jaskier minds, but he really, really just wants a hug.

What’s left in options is various monsters, trees, Roach and that one Witcher that accompanies her. Yes, he is talking about Geralt, keep up.

Monsters, depending on the kind, would probably give him a great hug. Only once though, because he would likely die from it. To be honest, the trees weren't so bad. The trick is to choose correctly, and when Geralt comes looking for him he claims he is lost. It worked twice, after that Geralt tied a rope around his middle to keep him from straying. If he tries to hug Roach he will meet one out of two outcomes. If not both.

Roach will bite him. Or Geralt will bite him.

And that likely applies if Jaskier actually would work up the nerve to actually try to hug that giant frown of a man.

So yes, Jaskier is grumpy, Jaskier is dramatic, and Jaskier wallows in these two moods and expresses it like an artform. Drapes it around his being like a fashionable cape. Swirls it around himself as he turns, dazzling all around him with grump and drama.

He really doesn’t expect Geralt to pick up the root of the problem. That might not even be what is going in, but three days into moping (because let’s be honest, that’s what this is) Geralt tires of the entire thing.

They are watering Roach just a little way off the main road. Jaskier is sighing loudly, kicking at the leaves and high grass and anything that happens to stick up.

He still has the rope around the middle, courtesy of his latest try to hug a tree, and suddenly there is a tug.

“Stop.”

Tug.

“Quit it.”

Tug tug.

“Fucking… What?? Geralt??” Jaskier turns around, all flare, to give Geralt a taste of that glare he may or may not try to be copying from said witcher.

There is this really tacky dance move Jaskier has seen at very very late night festivals. When one person refuse to dance, and the other pretends to pull at a rope to bring them to the dancefloor.

Picture this, but nobody is dancing and there is actually a rope.

Geralt is pulling Jaskier closer, looking all serious and stone faced and how else you wish to describe that dumb dumb face of his.

“What are you- Why?! What are you doing?” Jaskier doesn’t struggle, but he doesn’t really cooperate either. Just like that dance move he ends up being dragged over to Geralt.

They stand only an arms width away from each other, Roach moved from the creek to graze at the grass, ignoring them completely.

Jaskiers pulse speeds up. Last time Geralt asked him to come closer and Jaskier blindly complied, he earned himself a punch in the gut. On the other hand, this time Geralt physically pulled him closer.

Should he...possibly.. maybe try to hug Geralt?

Before he gets the chance to try, Geralt grabs his shoulders with both hands and looks at him gravely.

“Jaskier.”

“Yes?”

“You stink.”

And toss him straight into the creek.

It’s not very deep, but it’s enough to completely soak him as he falls face first. He swallows one big mouthful of muddy water, he spits and coughs with loud protests and moaning.

“THIS IS SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME SMELL BETTER?! ARE YOU DAFT?!”

He rises from the creek like a water hag, water dripping from all of his expensive clothes. He marches straight up to Geralt, heart set on revenge.

Yeah, Geralt weighs a ton. Have you seen the guy? He is huge, and even if he isn’t traveling in his armor it is impossible to get a good grip. Geralt is entirely too good at steering off attacks.

Fine.

Jaskier doesn’t fear death.

So he marches straight back into that creek.

Falls into it, hugs it if you will, and turns around again all soaking wet.

Take aim.

Launch.

And throws himself at Geralt. Not in the intent of trying to push Geralt in the water, but with the intent to bring as much water on Geralt as he can. Like a sponge.

Either Geralt did not anticipate this course of action, or he accepted it. Kind of.

There is some slapping and flailing but then Jaskier presses himself against Geralt's side, wrapping his arms around his chest and clenching that stupid (and STINKY, Geralt! Take a bath!!) tunic and soaking it as best he can.

“Hah!” Jaskier is so pleased with himself, he throws a leg around Geralt and dries himself off like a dog on grass, rubbing his hair and face against Geralt's shoulder.

So it takes him a moment to realize that Geralt is laughing.

He stops, looks up in wonder. No, not looking, staring. Geralt is laughing, throwing his head back that gives him that adorable little double chin.

Jaskier doesn’t let go.

Of course not. This is way better than hugging a tree.

“Done moping now? Idiot.” Geralt puts a hand on his forehead and shoves him off. Jaskier is too busy staring at that smile to struggle. There are wet patches on his tunic so Geralt takes it off in a smooth motion.

“What do you say, we make camp here for today? Wash our clothes and clean up? I'm sure they will put away the pitchforks in the village if we don’t announce ourselves by smelling. ...Uh. Earth to Jaskier? Hellooo?”

Jaskier is not done staring. Smiles and bare chest will do that to a man. But he closes his mouth at least, so that is an improvement.

It takes a few minutes to get his brain functions back.

During that time Geralt takes off Roaches gear and she goes a bit further away to find more tasty things to eat.

They actually get around to bathe and clean their clothes. They bask in the warm sun, laying in the grass and just enjoy the nature around them and each other's company.

Jaskier seeking revenge probably doesn’t count as a hug, but he will take it. It feels a bit better and he is ready to hang the Cloak of Dramatics on the rack for a while and just enjoy the moment.

But again, Geralt surprises him.

As they prepare for settle in for the night, rolling out their bedrolls (with a respectable distance, thank you very much) Geralt sits against a tree and leans back.

Again, Geralt tugs him closer. This time by the tunic that he got to borrow, pulling him straight down between Geralt's knees and capturing him in a bear hug.

Two hugs. In one day.

“Uh… Geralt?”

Jaskier doesn’t dare to move, not daring to wrap his arms around the witcher. They are chest to chest, Geralt holding him in an iron grip.

“Yes?” Geralt mutters, holding him just a little closer.

“Are you.. Why are you hugging me?”

It feels like his chest is swelling three sizes, a tingling sensation spreading through his limbs, closely followed by a warmth.

“I'm not.”

It’s Jaskiers time to chuckle.

“Oh really?”

“Mmhm.”

Geralts offers up absolutely nothing, but Jaskier now dares to let his arms circle around Geralt's shoulder with a soft sigh. Not the restless, dramatic and grumpy kind that he did before, but a content exhale.

“I really needed this.” Jaskier admits to Geralt's shoulder There is no way he is telling Geralt, he has been behaving really badly today.

“No shit. I absolutely didn’t notice you hugging everything in your immediate vicinity.” Geralt drawls sarcastically.

Geralt's warm, callused hand finds its way under Jaskiers tunic. Little electric sparks climbing up his spine and he buries his head in Geralt's neck.

Up until this very point, this could very much be something one friend does for another.

Still could be.

But also not.

And if there is one thing Jaskier wouldn’t mind, it’s that.

Only, he is afraid it will go away if he points it out.

Jaskier has seen it one too many times before.

And Geralt is the one person he does not wish to lose. His heart is beating hard, with every breath he takes in the (now much better) smell of his friend, breathing him in deep.

“Are you sniffing me?” Shit.

“No.” Jaskier says and yelps when Geralt pinches his side.

“Fine, fucking… yes. So what. You smell good.”

Geralt falls weirdly quiet and Jaskier has time to have a small internat panic attack and prepare to be shoved away.

“You can sniff me if you want.” Geralt says quietly.

They are stock still in each other's arms. It’s an odd thing to do, an odd thing to say. Jaskier finally caves and pushes his face a little deeper in the crook of Geralt's neck.

Geralt's hands climb higher over Jaskiers' back, and he leans his head against Jaskiers.

“You smell good too.” Jaskier almost dies. “Well. Now you do. Before the bath, not so much.”

“Fuck you.” Jaskier chuckles.

“Nah. Would be real awkward in the morning.” Geralt says, and again they both freeze. Yeah, this is one weird night.

They don’t say anything more after this. Just sits there under the tree, listening to the evening birds and Roachs munching in the distance.

And if they pulled their bedrolls closer together, and slept with their legs tangled, and woke up too warm curled together, that is just what friends do for each other when you feel lonely.

Probably not.

But that is not a conversation they are ready to have.

For now, there are only hugs.

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now-im-a-belieber · 4 years ago

Note

Hii❤️ can j please request "i love you so much that it terrifies me" with Bill? Thank you❤️

prompt: "i love you so much that it terrifies me"

bill guarnere x female!reader

a/n: annnnd im back to writing angst! don't worry the ending is mostly happy and i kind of have an idea for a part 2?! but here's this for now, i'm kinda proud o' this one!

taglist: @capsparkyspeirs @wecomrades @tvserie-s-world @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant

══════════════════

Your enlistment was nothing short of a miracle.

It happened during the last attempt you'd given yourself out of about a dozen other times. The officer, who'd become used to you storming up to his desk every other day, sighed upon noticing your return this time. Until then, he'd only ever glance your way and then back down at whatever work lay upon his desk. But this time, he sighed.

Hell, so what if you'd worn him down more so than convinced him you were fit to fight? He'd finally agreed to let you sign your name on the dotted line.

"Fine." The officer said. "You wanna prove something so badly, go on, prove it." And he went on to ramble about how he wouldn't be surprised to find you back home in a week's time after failing to meet any requirements at Toccoa.

"War is no place for women." He huffed, finally.

"Then I'd better hurry and get out there. Since anyone who shares your ideals clearly has no fight left in them on the behalf of people like me."

You brushed off his discouragement and marched home to the beat of your ever quickening heart. Bill was certainly going to have a lot to say about this. But so were you...

He was packing when you arrived. There were no more days left until Bill was due at the training camp. Just one night's rest. The last night you'd planned to spend together for only God knew how long.

But before any goodbyes could begin, you hovered in the bedroom doorway with news to share. Better to get this out in the open and out of the way...

"I got in." You breathed, stood with the confirmation papers in your vice grip, like if you let go of them they'd cease being tangible.

"You got in?" Bill repeated in monotone. You weren't expecting a fight. You'd actually thought Bill would burst at the seams with pride and joy, like he said he would when you first wondered aloud, if your joining up was wise.

But then he repeated the same sentence in some kind of realization. And there was a smile affecting his tone as he spoke in the charming draw you'd always adored. He abandoned his poorly packed bags and swept across the room to stand before you, with a gleam in his eye. And then came his rambles of praise and excitement. Telling you he knew you'd make it. Telling you he'd be right behind you every step, ready to give hell to anyone who might try and break you down along the way.

You let your man fawn and flatter you, but knew this night couldn't end without making yourself perfectly clear.

"That's the thing though." You revealed with a shaky breath. You hadn't thought much about how to say this. But you knew you had too.

"Your help.... I don't think it would help. Bill, I have to do this on my own. The officer's right. I *do* have something to prove. And I don't want anyone thinking I made it to where I'm headed because my boyfriend knocked enough barriers out of my way."

You didn't wanna fight. You desperately didn't want this to be a fight. But this was something you were sure of. So you braced yourself at the sight of your man's jaw clenching.

And there was no hiding the flash of sadness in Bill's eye's, though sadness for what, you couldn't be exactly sure. As you held your breath, you watched as Bill slowly relaxed his shoulders. And through the pregnant silence that had settled, he reached out to you and said, "Alright, doll."

"Alright?" You wondered in suspicion. That was almost too easy.

"I know you ain't gonna change your mind about somethin' this important to ya." Bill pointed.

So then it was decided. You'd be headed to the same place with the same goal with the person you'd loved longer than you had fingers to count on. But you wouldn't let on that you'd known Bill long before stepping foot onto the camp grounds. After a while longer of your making your aspirations clear, Bill promised he understood. And you hoped your selfish determination wouldn't be misconstrued.

And still, your man went on another monolog about how proud of you he was.

"But if ya think I won't be around every corner waitin' up to steal you away, you'd better think again." Bill kissed your head and coaxed you to bed, reminding you this was the last of night's like these.

So you stayed entirely swept up in Bill's orbit. Talk of what things would be like quickly washed away by your appreciation for the moment Bill implored you to stay focused on. This was the last of night's like these indeed...

///

He'd been at Toccoa for a week already. You realized entirely, that your late joining would affect you just as negatively as every other aspect of your joining at all.

But this only made you want it worse than ever. Not just to prove yourself. Not just to prove others wrong. But you felt the desire to be a part of this for reasons much more profound than you'd ever had the means to understand for yourself, let alone explain to anyone.

So you followed every rule like it was do or die. From which path to walk to find your barracks- to the drills you were sent to practice before you'd so much as stepped out of the cab ride here.

And to your surprise, you seemed to blend into the background of things. There were no gasps or whispers traded as you found your place among the men.

It was hard to tell if they could care less about your presence, or if they collectively, subconsciously, decided to freeze you out; finding it the easiest way to focus on reigning supreme themselves.

And it was just as you'd gotten used to the silence you'd been receiving, when you saw him. Your man. Your Bill, yakin' with some fellas who reminded you of the kids you'd hung around the school yard with, back home.

And at the sight of the man you'd loved for so long, after a fortnight gone from his side, you were inclined to run into his loving arms- despite your fuss made about keeping a distance.

And then he saw you, too. And the bunch he was with had begun walking off. Bill seemed to turn, to follow along, in a moment that sent your heart to plummet. But over his shoulder Bill shot you a wink and a sly smile.

And something about the smile he gave you beyond the space he respected made your heart rise back up and melt all the while. And you realized he was completely on your side. How did you get so lucky?

Things went on like that for a couple weeks. Most of the company would pay you no mind. This meant your accomplishments seemed invisible and the times you might've been bold enough to ask for a helping hand fell on deaf ears.

But some started to pester you, unable to hold back their snide remarks any longer. An odd pride swelled within you, when your existence started becoming meaningful enough to irk them. And eventually, a few of the sweeter souls seemed to recognize that you were, in fact, a human, just as eager to be a part of the great big fight as they were.

So with the few friends you'd made, you'd found occasional moments of respite side by side. But of course, there was one soldier who managed to hold your attention everyday- though you were damn good at pretending this wasn't so.

Bill, on the other hand, couldn't be stopped from shouting encouragement across obstacle courses and casting longing stares across the dining hall. And some of the guys you'd started getting on with kept cracking jokes about how Bill must've had some secret crush on you. In a way, they weren't wrong. And the whole act was almost a little bit fun.

Bill went as far as introducing himself to you, acting a bigger flirt than you'd ever recalled him acting when he was very first pursuing you- which was really saying something.

And when the pair of you managed to sneak off on those weekends you were set free, it was almost as if you'd never been parted at all. Bill would trace patterns across your skin and laugh with you about nothing into the night, like always.

And every one of those rare opportunities ended by you asking if he was still alright with this whole strange arrangement you'd created. And Bill assured he was fine to sit back and watch you out run easy company's fastest sprinters, and give Shifty's near perfect shooting record a little competition. Bill knew you were on a personal mission to accomplish all the things you knew you could, without any implications. But you *were* starting to miss him.

Because those days and nights where you got to steal a moment of Bill's time were becoming sparse. And your rough plans together were almost always thwarted- by surprise drills and punishments.

And it came as a shock to no one that you'd most often get the worst of it from Sobel. His unhinged language somehow sunk lower when aimed at you. You knew his demeaning of your gender was intended to break you down. But you didn't let it. His discipline was often set up for you to fail, and make a fool of yourself. But you powered through the worst of it, and shot the bastard a grin each time you managed to come out on top of each ridiculous task. If you hadn't been motivated to push yourself before, you'd become mad to gain power by now.

Trouble was, on the few nights Bill made a point to sneak into your bunk, there was just no time for much besides dutifully listening to him drone on about how he missed you.

You'd been made to double your workload when everyone else got the rare chance to take it easy. And during then, Bill sought you out, like he once promised he would. And though you couldn't help but appreciate the nights he offered to stay up with you; to help finish some nightmarish task made to drive you to throwing in the towel- you sent him away. Bill would argue that any fight you had to face was his fight too. And you argued back that you thought he'd promised he understood that you were dead set on coming through this on your own.

Some mornings he'd let his hand squeeze your own below the table in the dining hall; while the others were busy fighting over desserts. But you eventually started shooting down Bill's attempts to display even the smallest affection- feeling strangely endangered by and entirely undeserving of his kind attention, at least until you earned your wings.

Those moments were already so few. And eventually they ceased all together, and the weeks started to fly by. Before you knew it, the time that had passed almost seemed to push the two of you further apart. Bill would be sent on one exercise while you were banished elsewhere. And on and on, until d-day.

As you slipped into your gear, a pit grew in your gut. Not for fear of what might be to come, but because you couldn't find Bill. And you *needed*to find him before thing's got even more complicated.

The sight of the man boarding a separate plane only brought you a blink of relief. But hardly so, it was no goodbye. Only confirmation that he was headed toward the same fate as you.

You were pushed onto your own flight, and the worry within you increased ten fold.

As the plane idled, some men chattered to ease their nerves. Their conversation had passed through one of your ears and out of the other, until you heard Bill's name repeated a couple of times.

"What's his problem? Seems to be more of a bitch than usual." One of them griped, wondering about the state of your man. It made you sick to realize you hadn't been near enough to him to realize he'd been in a strange mood, for a while.

"Yeah, well you'd be a bitch too if you found out your brother died, just before your flight out to hell." Johnny Martin pipped up. His tone more defensive than usual. You couldn't help but gawk at the peevish soldier who'd often, perplexingly, been kind to you. Had he really just said what you thought he said?

"Bill's brother?" You begged to know, trying quickly to hide the way your face fell.

"Yeah. He was killed in Italy, somewhere." Martin informed, keeping a quizzical eye on you.

"I see." You played, shoving all the terror and hurt deep deep down. There simply was no time to feel such things, and certainly not enough time for an explanation, should you start to lose it a little.

Before you knew it you were rocketing toward the ground and scrambling through tall grass to find a familiar face. Smoke and flames led your way, and one day and night passed before you saw your man again- two days that seemed to pass slower than years and decades.

And when you did spot Bill, he was relaxing with some of the others on the steps of a blown up building; and some horrid resistance within you grew stronger than the usual natural instinct to run into his embrace. The mixed emotions caused a cry to lodge itself in your throat, but you wouldn't let it out of course.

And by then Bill had made his way close enough to you to notice the sheen of tears you were reluctant to let fall.

"Still blerry eye'd from that shit storm we dived into, huh?" He nudged your side with his elbow and the smile he wore was gentle and encouraging despite the mayhem that had shadowed your senses, and his no doubt, for days now.

"You didn't tell me about your brother." You spoke in a whisper that came out in more of a hiss, unintentionally.

"Yeah, well you didn't tell me goodbye. But who's countin'?" Bill shot back, not speaking in anger so much as dejection. The two of you stood holding each others gaze for the first time in longer than just the two days you'd been separated.

"So what are we gonna do?" Bill wondered. But the ending of his statement was drowned out by the officers shouting for your company to fall out.

And for weeks that was as good as it got. The looks you shared across rooms were scant. And if there was ever time you might've had to find each other and sort things, you didn't take it- too terribly afraid he'd tell you how horribly you'd been treating him and break your heart in the middle of this already loveless bedlam.

It was all your fault, creating this chasm between the two of you and having no clue how to close it up. You'd walked around it many a time and met on the edge but the space was only growing.

The distance you insisted upon at first was never supposed to last this long but it seemed to have found a permanent place between you.

And what was worse, were the instances Bill found himself at your side- sharing silence on patrols and long rides from one place to another.

He was right in your reach. Just like he promised to always be. But that only made the storm of emotion within you seem to rage even wilder.

By the time your company had reached Belgium, you'd convinced yourself that everything you'd once shared with Bill was long gone. For all the times you failed to reach out to him, Bill seemed to pass up reaching out to you all the same.

Until one night. You were headed back from viewing some old film with a few of the guys who'd become used to your presence. There were still a few troopers who grimaced at the sight of you mixed in battle near them. But there were more who'd been proud to fight beside you, and invited you to take in a film on one lucky night off.

Bill was among them, listening to their banter while you lagged behind the bunch. You'd been certain that he'd finally crossed over to the side if the men who'd found it easier to turn a blind eye your way. But then

your crew rounded the corner of some weather worn barn. And Bill broke away from the group and stopped you from walking on- grabbing you by the elbow and gently holding you to stall.

"Bill, I don't think-" you began, croaking past the ever present lump in your throat. Worried that the others would hear should you start to bicker. You didn't care what they knew, anymore. Only hoped to prevent any further upset. There was already so much sorrow you're lot had to carry and sort through. And selfishly, you couldn't dream of stirring up any more upset.

"Shaddup. This ain't how it's gonna be no more." Bill returned, his voice full and insistent. He still held one of your arms and brought his other hand to follow suit.

You were too stunned by his insistence and his closeness after so much confusion that you keep your mouth shut.

"I miss you, damn it."

Your brow furrowed at his gentle confession and your mouth hovered open. Too many words jammed in your throat but you manage to stammer out the one's that reign truest.

"I miss you too."

Bill's worry seemed to fade into relief. His eyes shut as he brought his lips to your head, like he always used to do. And you let him.

"Well, we can't have that." You closed your eyes then, as he spoke against your temple and ran his hand up to your shoulders, bringing his fingers to hold your face. You let Bill lean in for a real kiss, feather light and sweet as ever. And you didn't try and stop as he followed behind on your decided way back toward your billet.

But as you turned the corner at last, a drunken member of your company stopped you from walking further.

Cobb stood in the middle of the rest of the path, sipping from a foreign bottle. He never liked you much. Before you could shove past the guy, he spoke up.

"Who the fuck do you two think you are?" Cobb spat, eyeing Bill past your shoulder. "What makes either of you think you deserve happiness, let alone love? In the palm of your hand in the middle of all this? It's audacious. You disgust me." Perhaps Cobb had seen the way Bill had only just so tenderly held you. Or perhaps he was just on another senseless bender.

Either way, you let your eye's roll and breezed on by, leaving the drunken fool behind. He didn't let Bill pass so easily, though, slurring something about your character in the face of the man who'd so far unconditionally loved you.

"Get fucked, Cobb. Maybe that stick up your ass'll come lose, then." Bill pushed past the soldier who'd been insulted enough to shut his mouth. But his alcohol fueled barb rang in your ears the rest of the walk to the place you were headed.

The walk was quiet. And you debated over speaking your mind even as you crept into the room. It had to be done, you realized. The room was empty of listening ear, and equipped with a door to shut the world out. You and Bill hadn't had many chances like this in a year or so. And you knew fate had designed this opportunity, a chance to finally say everything that you hadn't been able to.

"Bill." You stared, turning to face your man after you'd turned the lock on the door. He stood with his arms crossed as if to brace for impact.

"Maybe Roy wasn't wrong."

Bill shook his head as you spoke and met you in the middle of the room where you'd stood.

"I just got you back. You're nuts if ya think I'm gonna let you slip away from me again."

"But I didn't slip away!" You corrected with urgency. "I pushed you away. More than a couple of times!"

"Maybe, but you had a good reason." Bill assured, his eyes going wide under his strong furrowed brow.

"No, I had a selfish reason. And Cobb might be a drunk asshole but he's right! I don't deserve you, not now!"

"Fuck that guy. He gets a say in what happens to us? Don't fuckin' think so. You're not walkin' away from me after all this time just cause some pessimistic asshole-"

As Bill shouted, you lost all the strength you'd been enforcing to keep from falling apart over this. Your throat burned as a pathetic sob escaped and hot tears ran down your face.

What had started as some mechanism you'd used to get through training turned into something bigger and uglier. This was war. This was what it turned you into. Some selfish monster greeded for more credit when you'd already earned your place.

You'd pushed Bill away time and again and you knew he had to be near his breaking point. He proved so tonight, by grabbing you close and demanding you not stray so far again, like you'd ever really come back from doing so.

And what was worse than the realization that you'd pushed him away, was the realization that Bill might not always come back. And what if you couldn't change? What if, on your road back to being less selfish, he'd finally realize you weren't worth the chase?

"I fucked up." You admitted, heaving the realization through sobs. "Oh God, Bill, please don't leave me."

"Hello? You heard a thing I've been sayin'?" Bill rang, reaching out to you much like he did not even an hour ago. One set of fingers came to lovingly brush the tears still rolling from your eyes. And then he held your head in his hands so you'd look at him as he spoke up.

"It's always gonna be you. That's what I'm put here fightin' for. Even when you get all determined and leave me in the dust. Hell, I'm so in love with you it terrifies me, doll. Scares me that one day you'll get too good at bein' on your own, and leave me, all alone, still be fightin'." Bill poured forth, searching your gaze as he spoke.

"Point is, I'll always be on your team. You just gotta let me stay cheerin' you on, damn it."

You nodded and tried to swallow your emotions to no avail. And finally just let yourself cry again as you repeated to Bill how sorry you were. He wrapped you in his embrace and let you lose it.

"I'll do better." You swore, meeting his eyes.

"Just feel better, for now, huh? That'll make me a happy man."

You didn't deserve Bill. But damn it, if he'd still have you, you'd be right there ready to cherish his very existence with each set and rise of the sun. You both agreed that there was no way either of you could make it through the rest of this hell without one another close by.

And you figured some of the guys had already pieced together that there was something between you and the man with an unforgiving nickname. And, apparently, Bill had entrusted Babe Heffron with his entire life story by now. That explained the curious glances the replacement had now and again thrown your way.

To hell with what anyone might've made of the two of you. To hell with any future or past where Bill wasn't in step with you.

The next night your company was hauled off toward the forest without a coat to trade between the lot of you. Teeth chattered and breath fogged the freezing air. But Bill clasped his hand in yours, and an incomparable warmth spread across everything that made you whole.

Some new kid was the subject of the company's pestering tonight, but it hardly lasted. Spirit's settled and someone near the front of the ride seemed to rhetorically wonder about home, and what it would be like to get back.

Some men answered, voicing hopes and dreams of the future. You only turned to look right at Bill, who already had his sights set on you. And then you realized, nothing much had really changed. You'd always been lucky with Bill at your side. God how you'd be glad to let it last...

#bill guarnere #bill guarnere x reader #bill guarnere imagine #band of brothers

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its-sixxers · 3 years ago

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A Sweet Embrace

VTMtober Day 2 Prompt. The life - and death - of Casimir Savatier.

At twenty, in the year 1755, Casimir Savatier had drank his fill of the world and found it wanting.

Since he’d been torn from his mother’s skirts he’d sailed the sea - seen the Isles, the Mediterranean, the northern shores of Africa. The secret places of each he had seen, too, places as withdrawn as he, as unassuming. Casimir laid his hands on relics ancient and occult, and they had given him riches in turn. The ire of the Church was a small price to pay, for he was captain of his own ship and his own destiny. They did not call him corbeau for nothing, for he flew wherever the wind carried him.

Knowledge, coin, success, women - he had it all, but as he stumbled out of Calais’ premier brothel drunk on wine and pleasure the night air felt like a slap in the face. Another night, another dance, the same routine every time his feet alighted on land. A distraction from the knowledge that washed over him in the cool night air. Something was missing, and for a man whose greatest talent was finding that which was hidden he found himself unable to discover it.

He stumbled down the cobblestone streets to the harbor, sea air filling his lungs. The moon was full, waters placid, reflecting her in all her glory - and somewhere at port lay his ship, his quarters, his home. All was silent, dockworkers long since retired to their beds, and Casimir was eager to do the same until a clear high note broke through the darkness.

The sound was beautiful enough to make him stumble. A woman’s voice - an angel’s - singing a hymn of a lost soul welcomed to Paradise. Casimir whirled about, trying to seek out the cause of the sound, still tasting wine on his breath, but the song seemed to surround him, to run through the air and fill his lungs.

In his drunken haze he returned to his quarters and passed out upon his bed, the voice singing him to his rest. When he awoke the next morning even the worst hangover of his life could not erase it from his memory. A drunken hallucination, he told himself, but when he set sail and watched the port fade into the distance he found himself singing the same hymn under his breath.

It was months before he returned to Calais again, a relic from an obsidian temple in an island off the coast of Portugal in hand. It thrummed with energy, its buyers met under cover of darkness on the pebbled beach below the docks, and when Casimir walked into a tavern to begin his usual dance of shore leave anew a business contact warned him that the Church had blades seeking his throat. It was best to leave until he’d faded from memory, and a plan was drawn for a delivery to the New World. It would be years before his return - but the New World was a place Casimir hadn’t yet seen, and perhaps it would hold the key to the void in his chest.

When he made his journey from tavern to brothel, deep within his cups, there was no moon in the sky, darkness complete. Turning down a narrow alley, he kept his hand on the grip of his flintlock and used the other to guide himself through the inky night.

Again, a woman’s voice cut through the night air singing a hymn - Casimir wondered if he’d hallucinated it, but it carried on - a whisper, and this time he could pinpoint its origin. Behind him.

He turned around, trying to seek out a form in the gloom. “Who are you?” he barked into the darkness.

The song stopped, then, gentle as summer rain; “A friend.”

Casimir barked laughter. “I have no friends. Merely business partners.”

“I know.” she answered softly. “You walk these streets alone. Your company is bought. You are lost, drifting like foam on the sea.”

He swayed on the spot - the voice was like a caress on his skin, and he walked forward with arm outstretched, seeking out the woman who spoke to him thus - who saw him thus.

“Please.” she murmured. “If you saw me you would not understand, would not see the truth in what I say. I beg of you - stop on this path you follow. What you seek is not in the bottom of a cup or coin purse.”

An angel, he thought to himself - be not afraid, they said, when speaking with mortal man. “What do I seek?”

“Purpose.” she answered. “Purpose beyond that of fetching trinkets for evil men and the idle rich. You seek something greater - to be part of a whole, to see something planted by your hands grow.”

Casimir stood still in the dark, eyes wide. “What must I do?”

“That is for you to decide.” Something skittered in the alley, then; “I must go.”

“Wait -” he cast his hand out into the darkness, reaching for her. “- please. Are you angel, or woman? If you are of flesh, I would…” he trailed off, unable to voice his heart’s desire.

“I am neither.” she whispered, pained - and then the air seemed to shift imperceptibly. In that moment he knew he was alone in the dark once more.

The next evening he hammered on the door of every alehouse, every brothel, seeking out the woman who he had spoken with - Casimir had something he wished to find, and for all the coin and power he had he would find her.

Each establishment either laughed him out or gave a sad admission that they knew not of who he spoke - so desperate was he that he even walked through the doors of the Église Notre-Dame, raving about his angel. The priests treated him more gently than others - they knew not who he was - but they believed he’d received a warning, to save himself before his spirit was damned for eternity.

The Lord did nothing for his mother, sweetest being he ever knew, and so Casimir embraced damnation - but death now that he knew there was an answer to the hollowness he felt was unbearable. He had only a few weeks before he departed to the New World, and his angel would be lost to him forever.

Each night he wandered the harbor, singing the same hymn - desperate to lure her out, to even hear her voice once more. On the seventh night he changed tactics, singing a love song - and on the seventh night, she answered him.

It wasn’t on the docks. Casimir laid in his bed in his galley, the windows thrown open to let the fresh air and moonlight in. Sleep had nearly claimed him, when he heard her voice.

“Who do you sing to?”

Casimir bolted upright, then recalled her previous words - to rush to the window would frighten her. “You.”

“I am not what you seek.”

“Yet I can’t get you out of my mind.” he replied. “You… you said I was lost. I have no one. I thought I needed no one, but you… you’ve seen me. Please - if you are no spirit, I would speak with you.”

“Speak?” It shocked the woman, he could hear it in her voice - and then it softened, quieted, as if trying to make sure none would overhear. “... you are content to merely speak?”

“Yes.” he breathed, a smile breaking out over his face. “I know not who you are, what you are, but I would hear what you have to say regardless. You’re different from anything.”

“You are a man who makes deals.” The woman said, cautiously. “I will make you a deal. I will tell you whatever you ask of me, so long as you never see me or ask how I appear or what I am. And… you tell me what I ask of you.”

“Done.” It was the easiest deal of his life. “Then I would ask you this, first - what is your name?”

A pause, then, as if it was foreign to her lips; “Elaine.”

Every night they spoke, he in his quarters and she somewhere near the window - he wondered if she lingered on the deck above, and marvelled at how she’d snuck aboard. They spoke of all things - she adored tales of his travels, and he listened to her knowledge of history. How a woman was so learned was beyond his understanding, but Elaine was a creature beyond anything he knew. Sometimes they exchanged songs - she knew mostly hymns, or melodies so old the language itself wasn’t quite the one he knew. He fast learned that bawdy songs would make her quiet or displeased, but sea shanties were beloved - sometimes he swore he could hear her weep when he sang of the sun glimmering on the waves, of the deep blue expanse, water and sky.

Once he laid flowers he’d gathered in the day at his windowsill, and awoke to find them gone.

Casimir no longer wanted to flee to the New World - he wanted to stay, to brave whatever accusations of heresy the Church would throw at him, if only to have another night to speak with her. His crew noted his lack of sleep, the dark circles around his eyes, and some murmured he’d become enraptured with some siren.

Yet sirens led men to their doom. Elaine gave him life.

Time marched on, and the days before his departure grew short. One night he couldn’t keep himself from weeping, and he could hear longing in her voice when she spoke.

“You are to leave soon.”

“Yes.” he answered thickly, wiping at his eyes. “I don’t know if I’ll return. It may be years.” Then, a thought. “Come with me.”

A long pause. “I cannot.”

Casimir walked to the window, gripping the sill in his hands. “Please.” he begged. “I can’t go back to a life without this. I know so little about you - I want to be able to fill pages upon pages. You speak of a desire to see what I’ve seen - we can both see the New World together. Perhaps… perhaps we can each find what we’re looking for.”

“I know what I desire.” she murmured in reply - from her voice he knew she, too, was weeping. “To resist is a test of my faith. I cannot, Casimir, I cannot, not without damning us both.”

“To hell with damnation. Life is damnation, if I continue it as I have.” Casimir extended his hand out of the window. “Please, Elaine.”

Another long pause, then, “Close your eyes.”

Casimir did as commanded, then felt something cold and leathery slip into his palm. He shuddered, the breeze suddenly carrying with it the stench of rot. Instinct screamed at him to run, to flee. Still, he kept his eyes squeezed shut - if this was a test, he would pass it.

“This is all I can give you.” Elaine spoke, voice quivering - he was aware of something metal being pressed into his hand. “Hold it and remember me - hold it and remember purpose. Do not speak so lightly of damnation, love - treasure your soul as I do.”

The leathery feeling disappeared, and Casimir opened his eyes to see a silver cross on a chain in his palm. Gingerly he drew his hand to his chest, staring down at it in the light - it was old, centuries old, and he wondered how Elaine had found such a thing.

“I will remember.” he promised to the night. “I will return, for you.”

“Until we meet again.”

“Goodbye, my love.”

He found blood on the deck in the morning.

Months on the sea - Casimir cared not for it. Where once the voyage would make his heart soar, now he could only stare at the cross that now hung around his neck, could only tilt it and see how it caught the sunlight.

They came to the New World at night, the lights of the colonies twinkling on the horizon, and to his despair Casimir found it much the same as the Old World. The same buildings, if simpler, the same people, if rougher. Two years, and he could return. He watched his ship disappear on the edge of the sky, and hoped his business partner would not betray him.

He took to trapping and hunting, finding relief only in the wilds - woods thick and dark, untouched by man, ancient beyond his comprehension. They reminded him of her - everything did. A doe caught in a sunbeam, locking her gaze with his before darting away. A rabbit by a stream, standing on hind legs and sniffing the air. Winter snows blanketing the harbor, the world soft and quiet.

In his cabin he was alone, far from aid should anything happen to him, but Casimir felt no fear. He read books on books, trying to seek knowledge of what Elaine had spoken of - each trip into civilization had him carting back more. French history dating back centuries, the world his was built on top of, and between the lines he could see hints of something greater. Perhaps his isolation was driving him mad, seeking connections were there were none, but with each new moon when the night was blackest he felt a glimmer of the purpose Elaine had spoken of.

Two winters passed, and come spring he cut his hair, shaved his beard, and returned to the harbor. His ship awaited him.

Sickness took the ship on the journey back, another member of the crew dying with each turn of the moon. Casimir hardly dared leave his quarters for fear of catching whatever plagued his crew, clutching Elaine’s cross to his breast and repeating his promise. He would return. He’d found his purpose.

It was dawn when they reached Calais once more, blankets and clothing taken out for burning. Casimir begrudgingly set foot on the harbor, though he desired nothing more than to stay in his quarters until nightfall, until Elaine would find him again. Instead he roamed the city streets, all of the anxious energy of months at sea leaving him unable to rest.

By nightfall he’d made it to the Église Notre-Dame, his right hand resting on Elaine’s cross. Staring up at the cathedral, he knew it belonged to the age of which Elaine so often spoke - and he sang out into the night. The stars shone bright above him, and he realized he’d been too drunk to ever marvel at the beauty of the city - to ever appreciate the wonder of standing alone bearing witness to creation.

Footsteps sounded behind him - he turned, thinking it Elaine come to reveal herself to him at last, but he recalled too late that Elaine was ever silent. Instead he saw a single figure in a dark coat - a man, his face masked by the wide brim of his hat.

Too late, Casimir saw him draw a flintlock from beneath his coat - and he fired.

The sound split the air. Casimir stumbled back as if he’d been struck by an ox - his shirt had gone red, scorched from where the bullet had entered just to the left of Elaine’s cross. He fell to his knees, legs suddenly unable to support him.

Somewhere far away, he heard a scream.

The man lowered his smoking flintlock and approached. “Your business partner fears the wrath of God. He has repented, and paid the price for his own part in this.”

“Elaine.” Casimir choked out, looking up at the stars above, willing them to intervene on his behalf. A cloud passed overhead, blocking out the moonlight. The color was fading from the world, and he could smell rot on the air.

“An accomplice?” His attacker questioned. “If you tell me where to find her, I’ll end it quic-”

Casimir saw a blur in his periphery - a shadow that reminded him of a dancer with ribbons. It collided with his attacker while the man was mid-sentence, and Casimir heard only a choked noise before the sound of tearing meat and blood spilling across the pavement drowned out all else.

The cloud above passed by, and though the edges of his vision had begun to blur Casimir saw clearly what had taken place. His attacker lay torn in two on the pavement, blood and organs sprayed across it, steaming in the cool air. Above stood a woman in a ruined nun’s habit, her arms wrapped in bandages - like ribbons - and as she ran to him he realized her arms were too long, hands like claws.

“Casimir.” she choked out, and he realized his Elaine was a corpse.

Yet she was his Elaine - and the leathery hands that drew his own toward her made his heart ache.

“I’m sorry.” he mumbled, tongue thick in his mouth.

“No.” Elaine replied, gaze fixed on the wound in his chest - her face was blurring before him, but he could make out her eyes - glowing white and pure as diamond in the dark, edged with panic. “You… you shouldn’t have come back.”

“I had to.” Casimir answered - his hands were going numb, cold as hers, and he gritted his teeth. “Couldn’t die there. Can’t… can’t die now.”

Elaine was trembling, gaze shifting between him and his wounds. “Do not ask this of me. I will damn us both.”

He smiled at her, then - she was no angel, no woman, she’d told him no lie. Whatever she was, he was certain god’s light had abandoned them both. “You said… you said that when I asked you to come with me. Why?”

“My kind cannot dwell among yours. We are cursed, to live forever, hideous - oh, love, I never wanted you to see me like this -”

Casimir pulled a hand away from her - she shuddered and closed her eyes until he placed it at her cheek. It was leathery as her hands, part of it torn open, but he could feel the blood on his palm and that was enough. “Elaine.” he croaked. “If damnation will let me live -”

“It is no life.” she whispered. “You will never see the sun again. You will never sail the sea. You will be a monster.”

“You aren’t a monster.” he murmured, hand dropping from her face. Casimir slumped forward, the cold in his limbs spreading, body growing heavier. “A life, with you…”

The air left his lungs, and he found himself unable to take in more. Elaine remained kneeling in front of him as he collapsed against her, head buried in the crook of her shoulder. The tremble in her body kept him on the edge of consciousness long enough to feel her gently pull his hair away from his neck.

“Just a Kiss, love.” she murmured into his ear, before placing her lips to his throat.

At twenty-three, in the year 1758, Casimir had drank his fill of life and found it wanting.

At the lips of his angel, he found purpose in death.

#fanfic #vtm #vampire the masquerade #nosferatu #vtmtober #oc: casimir #oc: elaine de la saules #okay yeah tbh casimir's mental state was never the most stable #anyway have a nosferatu love story

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years ago

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Dancing

Day 32 Post 1 by @honouraryweasley12

Title: Dancing Author/Artist: honouraryweasley12 Pairing: Ron/Hermione Prompt: Masquerade Ball/Special Event Rating: M Trigger Warning(s) (if any): Smut, Language

The knock on her office door interrupted Hermione's thoughts. She'd been hunched over for several hours since lunch, studying the tiny, almost illegible text of an ancient book about Centaurs.

"Come in!"

The door creaked open and Ginny strode into the small, cramped office, waving a piece of parchment. She tossed it onto the desk, covering the page. Hermione recognized it immediately.

"Just thought I'd pop in. Are you and Ron going to this thing next week?"

She had read the invite to the Ministry event the night before, amidst a flurry of complaints from Ron.

"Yes, it's mandatory."

"Did you see the date?"

"I know, the first of March. Ron was not thrilled that we'd have to postpone his birthday celebrations."

"I can imagine." Ginny smirked, before waggling her eyebrows. "Did you have anything special planned?"

"What we do in the privacy of our bedroom—"

"Who said anything about the bedroom?" Ginny asked innocently, trying to get a rise out of her friend.

Hermione wagged a warning finger. "I know you, Ginny Weasley." She frowned. "It would be nice to do something for him on the day; he was so disappointed."

"At least it's in a nice place," Ginny remarked, referring to the estate where the event was being held. "The food will be good—that alone should please my brother."

"That's true," Hermione remarked glumly. "I'm sure it'll be fine, but I know his birthday is important to him."

"What's the big deal? He's turning twenty-three. It's not exactly a milestone."

"I know, I know. He told me once that growing up, his birthday was the only day when he felt like he was the centre of attention, so I like to make an extra special effort."

Ginny nodded. "He's not wrong, I suppose."

Hermione rolled her head from side to side, a cracking sound from her stiff neck echoing around her office.

"Looks like he's not the only one who needs some pampering."

Hermione waved her hand dismissively. "I'm used to it."

"You should do something nice for yourself. Even I know you're working yourself too hard."

"Like what?"

Ginny pondered for a moment, before bouncing up in her seat. "I have an idea."

Hermione looked at her wearily. "What is it?"

The redhead nodded toward the invitation on her desk. "Did you see the part about muggle clothing being encouraged? What are you planning on wearing?"

"I don't know. I guess a gown. Maybe the one I wore to Percy's wedding last fall."

"You always wear things my mother would approve of. You're still young! How about something fun and sexy?"

Hermione scoffed. "I've seen some of the things you wear, Ginny."

She raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong with what I wear?"

"You show a lot of… skin. Which is completely fine, but you don't work with these people."

"C'mon, live a little. I know my brother would still be mad about you if you were wearing a potato sack, but just imagine his reaction if you wear something a bit different."

"I don't know…"

"I promise, I won't go too crazy. It's Ron's birthday after all, wouldn't he enjoy seeing you in something less… proper?"

Hermione sighed, her willpower slipping away. "Yes, he would."

"Harry and Ron will be away this weekend taking new recruits into the field, so it's the perfect opportunity to go shopping." Ginny stood up and grabbed her invitation, before making her way to the door. "I'll meet you at yours at noon on Saturday."

"I don't see how this is treating myself."

"We'll stop at a bookshop then." The determined look on her friend's face was enough for Hermione to throw her hands up in the air.

"Fine!"

"That's the spirit." Ginny flashed her a cheeky grin and closed the door behind her.

"Weasleys," Hermione muttered to herself, before returning to her book.

~*~

Hermione stepped out of the ornate fireplace, her magically-extended clutch in hand. Ginny followed closely behind her, the two stopping to admire the tastefully decorated ballroom of the old estate house.

The brunette witch glanced around, hoping to see the familiar red hair of her love bobbing above the crowd, but was unable to spot him. She glanced at the thin silver watch on her wrist, a gift from Ron when she graduated from Hogwarts.

Ginny thrust a flute of champagne into Hermione's hand. "Will you relax? They'll be here soon. You know they have their Friday evening briefing first. Harry told me they were going to shower and change at the Ministry, then come straight here."

"I'm just nervous, that's all," Hermione replied as she nodded hello to a member of the Wizengamot who passed by, before taking a gulp of the fizzy sweet drink.

"You look great! Ron is going to go mental when he sees you."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, referring to the outfit she'd purchased with Ginny's help before downing the rest of her glass.

The result of their shopping excursion was a shimmery silver cocktail dress that hugged her curves and stopped mid-thigh. The two thin straps holding up the garment revealed her uncovered back and shoulders. All of this was set off with a pair of black heels. Her normally bushy hair tumbled down in soft waves, aided by half-a-bottle of Sleekeazy's.

Ginny nodded. "Absolutely."

A slight murmur behind them signified the arrival of one Harry Potter, his presence causing the usual stir, even years after the end of the war. He shook a few hands as he made his way over to the two of them, kissing Ginny and giving a hug to his friend.

"Wow, you look great, Hermione! I heard all about the new outfit."

"Thank you, Harry." She glanced over his shoulders, searching. "Where's Ron?"

He chuckled. "He's on his way, should be here any second."

Hermione held her breath as she spotted ginger hair towering above the crowd. She put a hand in the air and waved him over.

Ron fought his way through the guests that were starting to amass, making a beeline in their direction. Just as he was about to reach them, Ginny winked at Hermione and jumped into his path, wrapping him up in a hug and drawing his attention.

"Happy birthday, Ron!"

He patted her on the back. "Thanks, Gin."

Before letting go of the embrace, she whispered. "The dress was my present."

"What dress?" he asked as she angled him toward Harry and Hermione.

Ron's jaw dropped as he took in the outfit Hermione was wearing. She blushed at his hungry gaze, as she herself gawked at how fit he looked in his suit.

"Hey, Ron."

Harry's greeting went completely unnoticed as Ron stepped forward, his eyes never leaving Hermione's. He pulled her against him, his hand splayed across the bare skin of her back.

"You look fucking hot," he growled into her ear, causing her to shiver.

She ran her own hand up and down the back of his dark suit jacket, relishing how solid he felt. "So do you."

He teased her ear, hidden by her hair. "We'd better get on with it. The sooner we're done mingling, the sooner we can get out of here and… celebrate my birthday."

She nodded as he pulled away, her face flush. As he turned to speak to Harry, another server passed by and she grabbed drinks for the two of them, needing to calm herself down. His reaction had far exceeded her expectations.

She caught Ginny's eye, the look on her face clearing stating I told you so. Hermione shrugged and grinned, before passing Ron his glass.

The night went on as they moved from dignitary to dignitary. Every so often, she'd catch him staring down at her, his desire clear. She didn't shy away though, challenging his gaze and communicating her own wants.

The teasing went on as they mingled, her hand reaching up to play with the red locks at the back of his neck. Hermione knew Ron loved it when she did that, causing him to give her a subtle squeeze as he laughed at the joke of some minister she wasn't familiar with.

His arm had been around her waist the whole time, almost possessively. As the minister turned away, she shuddered as he ran his hand up and down her side, his feather light touch just grazing the side of her breast.

"Want to dance?"

She nodded and downed her drink, dropping the empty glass on a nearby table before he led them out to the dance floor. She smoothly slid her small clutch into his jacket pocket, before wrapping her arms around his neck.

His strong arms encircled her waist, his thumb teasing patterns across her skin. "Have I told you how much I like it when you wear stuff like this?"

Hermione grinned. "No, you haven't told me, at least not with words."

Ron smiled, his hungry look returning as one of his hands dipped lower, brushing her backside as they turned in slow circles—ignoring the music but enjoying the game. He closed the distance and pressed a kiss to her lips, dragging his teeth across her bottom lip, leaving her aching for more.

He buried his face her neck, inhaling her scent before whispering in her ear. "Want to find somewhere quiet?"

The combination of his hot breath, his arms around her, and the loosening of her inhibitions from the alcohol brought on a sense of recklessness. They had been dancing around it all night. He wanted her, and she wanted him just as much.

"Yes."

They stole away from the crowded ballroom, their hands clasped together as need drove them to find some privacy. They checked a few doors in the massive estate until they found a small parlour. Ron whipped out his wand and fired off protections.

Their lips crashed together in a matter of seconds, frantic with the desire that had been building up all evening. Ron lifted her up, mimicking their first kiss, and walked her to the far end of the room. He set her down and turned her around, breaking their heated kiss. Pinning her against a wall with his firm body, he pushed aside her hair, his mouth finding that spot on the back of her neck that he knew so well.

"Oh, yes!"

He continued downward, kissing and tasting her naked back, causing her to gasp, her ragged breathing the loudest sound in the room.

"You look so fucking sexy in this," he said, before sliding his hand up her thigh and underneath her dress.

"Yes, touch me. I want to feel your hands on me."

His large hand palmed her between her legs, causing her to moan even louder. "Fuck, I love that sound."

"More," she cried out, grinding against his fingers. She loved the feeling of him taking control and pleasuring her.

His other hand snaked up to the front of her dress, reaching for her covered breast. Having his amazing attention in two different places was sending shockwaves to her core.

She mewled as he increased the pressure, his actions becoming rougher and more primal. She loved it but wanted to feel him. Wanted to feel what she did to him.

"Are you hard for me?"

"Check for yourself," he grunted, letting go of her and turning her to face him.

He kissed her hard, his hands cupping her face as she stroked his obvious arousal through his tailored suit pants. He moaned in her mouth from the contact. She in turn threw her head back as he trailed his lips to her cheek, then down to her neck, sucking and biting. They were ravenous for each other.

Her hand flew into his hair, jerking at the ginger strands as she pleaded for more. "Ron, please."

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me, quickly!" she begged, her words brazen in the elegant room. Her hand went to his zipper and tugged it down, before slipping into the opening and wanking him forcefully.

"Shit, Hermione."

"Now, Ron, please! Take me from behind!"

In one quick motion, he spun her around again and pulled roughly at her hips. He bunched the dress around her waist, exposing her delectable bum. The smack of his hand across her arse cheek echoed, leaving a pink mark on her flesh and causing Hermione to groan and push herself toward him in overheated desperation.

"Yes, more!"

He slapped her other cheek this time, eliciting another strangled groan. Her wanton reactions were too much for him as he yanked aside her soaked knickers and guided himself into her.

She moaned loudly as he entered, her cries shrill as he filled her completely.

"Yes, feels so good!"

His fingers dug into her hips as he thrust slowly at first, his grunts increasing in time with his efforts.

"Fucking take it, Hermione."

She called over her shoulder, her fingers clawing at the wall in ecstasy. "Harder, Ron! I've wanted this all night! Wanted you all night!"

He continued his pace, his groans mingling with her own. Half-leaning against the wall now, she found her most sensitive spot and began rubbing furious circles, urgently needing to get off.

"Love it when you play with your yourself," he panted as he thrust into her. "You gonna come on my cock as I fuck you?"

She nodded, his raw dirty words and relentless pounding spurring her on. Her lips were pressed into a thin firm line as she felt herself reaching her peak, crying out his name. That was enough to set him off as well, as he throbbed and spilled inside of her, burying his face in her hair as he fought to catch his breath.

She sagged against the wall, his delicious weight pressing against her as her chest heaved. After a moment, she turned to face him, seeking out his lips as they shared a lazy kiss, the taste of alcohol prevalent. They broke apart, and as they stared at each other, Hermione couldn't help but flash him a big smile.

"Enjoyed that, did you?" His deep voice rumbled.

"Mmmm, very much so. I take it you liked the dress."

He grinned. "I think that's an understatement."

They quickly cleaned themselves up and got their clothing straightened out. The effects of the champagne were still working on Hermione as she leered at him in his suit and licked her lips.

"Shall we finish our rounds and then go home? It might be your birthday, but I have one big candle to blow."

Ron laughed and shook his head. "Happy fucking birthday to me."

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest romantic #submission

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