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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 3 months

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Puppy love

Masterlist

Starring: Dad!August, Mike, guest appearance; Syverson

Summary: August is not happy when his daughter first starts dating 'that Syverson boy'.

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: Fluff, overprotective dad!August, family drama, teen angst, super-duper unreasonable parents, and vague mentions of teens having sex, I guess that needs a warning or something?

A/N: And now for something completely different... Written from August's POV. Unfortunately, he got married, and they had a baby, and unfortunately the baby was a girl, who is now unfortunately 16 years old, and unfortunately wants to date boys, who unfortunately happens to be the son of his college rival; James Syverson. 80% of this fic is just August being on the verge of having a fucking heart attack because of teen shenanigans. And they're not even that bad.

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @sillyrabbit81 @littlefreya @mayloma @summersong69 @livisss @winter2112rose @changenameno @wa-ni (still not allowed to tag you, sorry :( )

“Daddy, come on, it’s just a date!”

“Princess, you’re too young to date.”

“Oh my god! Mom!” She stormed out of the kitchen, and you foolishly thought you could pick up the paper again. “Please talk some sense into dad!”

And there she was again. Both of them, even. You sighed and put the paper back down.

“August, for the love of God, she’s sixteen! She can date!” Your wife put her hands on her hips — you hated it when she did that.

“Not with that...” You struggled to find the words without letting the entire house in on why exactly you didn’t approve of this boy. Other than him wanting to do unspeakable things to your daughter, of course.

“He’s a sweet kid,” your wife said, rolling her eyes — you hated it when she did that, too.

“He’s a Syverson!” you blurted out. “She’s not going out with the son of that sleazy, good-for-nothing son of a—”

“Only if you can say it in church, August!” You didn’t even go to church! Neither did your wife, but it was her go-to way of keeping you from swearing, and as much as you hated to admit it, it worked.

“Junior can forget it,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

“Go get ready, sweetie,” your wife said to your daughter. Your blood was boiling. Did you have absolutely no authority in your own damn house? Not usually, no... “I’ll have a chat with your father.”

“So, you want to take my daughter out?” You took pleasure in staring the boy in front of you down, and you were pleased to report he was scared to death. Or at least he had the decency to fake it.

“Yes, sir,” he said, swallowing audibly, “we’re going to see a movie. I’ll have her home by eleven.”

“Ten,” you replied brusquely.

“Dad!” your daughter squealed as she came down the stairs. “Can you be normal for like... Five seconds? Mom! He’s doing it again; he’s ruining my life!”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, princess!” you scoffed.

“August, that’s enough!” You glared at your wife, who turned to the boy in front of you.

“You two have fun,” she said. “Bring her back in one piece, James.”

“Eh, it’s Mike, ma’am.” He didn’t look at her as he said it.

“I’m sorry?”

“My middle name is Michael. I’m not overly fond of the whole ‘Junior’ thing,” he admitted. “Anyway. When is her curfew, exactly? I really don’t want to get her in trouble.”

“Then leave—ow!” Maybe you deserved that kick in the shins.

“She’s late,” you grumbled. “And I mean he brought her home late.”

“Oh, August, please! They’re right outside, you can hear them!” She rolled her eyes at you again.

“There’s too much giggling if you ask me,” you sneered. And right when you said it, the giggling stopped — which was far more disconcerting, as far as you were concerned.

“August, don’t,” your wife sighed as you got off the couch and walked towards the front door.

“That’s quite enough, young man,” you snapped when you pulled the door open and were met with the unpleasant sight of the Syverson boy harassing your precious little girl. That had to be it, right?

“Dad, oh my god! Stop embarrassing me!” She let out a frustrated scream and turned to Mike. “I’m so sorry, Mike... I’ll see you Monday, okay?”

As soon as the door closed behind her, you knew you were in for it.

“Dad, you are certifiably insane, okay? It was just a kiss, for fuck’s sake!”

“Language, young lady!” you tried, but you were fairly sure you’d find no backup in this case. Your wife was staring you down from the couch in the living room.

“No, dad,” she yelled. “You’re nuts. That’s it. Why can’t you just be normal? Why do you have to be crazy? You just totally humiliated me, like...”

“Princess, I’m just trying to protect you,” you said as you reached out to pull her into a hug, but she pushed you away.

“Daddy, I’m serious! We went to the movies, we had a really nice time and then he drove me home and so what if he kissed me? Like, you didn’t have to show up like that, acting like a complete psycho. It was beyond cringe! I’m literally mortified, like what were you even thinking?” She sighed dramatically and threw her hands up. “Whatever. I’m going to my room. Stay out of my business!”

“Well, that went... Well,” you said as you sat down on the couch, with the — admittedly false — hope of getting some sympathy from your lovely wife.

“No, August, it did not.”

“Ok, so, we’ll be in my room,” she said, already tugging Mike along towards the stairs, and before you could say anything, they were gone.

“Hold on—” you started, but your wife grabbed your elbow, calming you down slightly. But only slightly.

“Let them,” she sighed, the sound cutting through you like a knife, “remember when we were young?” She wrapped her arms around your neck and kissed you, and it took everything to not push her away, knowing where her mind was — with her sixteen-year-old self, in her bedroom, fooling around with her high school sweetheart: none other than James Syverson.

Yes, James Syverson senior, the father of the boy who was upstairs with your daughter right now... The man who had beat you for captain of the football team. Twice. The man who had made a pass at your then-girlfriend when you were years into dating her and she was wearing your ring and your jacket with your name on it. Twice. Was it really so weird that you trusted his son about as far as you could throw him?

Soft lips on your neck pulled you away from your thoughts. “Try to remember that I married you?”

You smiled at her before leaning in for a kiss, wrapping her up in a tight embrace. “I’m a lucky man.”

“Ew, gross. Can you, like, not?”

A devilish smile played at your wife’s lips for a moment before she kissed you again a tad too theatrically.

“Oh my god, stop it! You’re old!” The look of disgust on your daughter’s face was absolutely priceless. “This is a kitchen! It’s a communal space!”

“So is the porch, princess,” you replied.

“How many times do I have to tell you two; this door stays open—oh for the love of God! I don’t need to see that!”

“Then by all means, dad, leave the door closed!” You caught the pillow she threw at you, and Mike made a point of moving as far away from her as the bed would allow while mumbling an apology.

Your wife had been right — which you were never telling her, which didn’t even matter because she already knew, anyway — and Mike really wasn’t a bad kid. That didn’t mean you were okay with him feeling up your daughter, though. Or worse.

“We’re not doing that, princess. Nice try though.”

On your way downstairs, you were fairly sure you heard the bedroom door close again and you sighed.

“It’s okay, love,” your wife said as she wrapped her arms around you.

“It’s not,” you sighed. “I wish that boy would keep his filthy paws off our daughter.” Was it genuinely too much to ask for her to find a nice, non-hormonal boy her age who only wanted to sit next to her on the couch and hold her hand under strict parental supervision?

“Yes, August, that’s entirely too much to ask,” your wife snickered. You hadn’t even realized you’d actually voiced your thoughts. “Boys like that don’t exist. I remember you when you were eighteen… We were doing much worse things than they are.”

“But we were in college. Can’t we just… ban him from the house?” You slumped down on the couch and took the cup of coffee your wife was now holding out to you.

“We could,” she said, and for the first time, a smile appeared on your face that she managed to wipe off immediately: “But I’ve seen the inside of that car he drives.”

It had been an interesting phone call, at one o’clock in the morning, from your daughter’s best friend’s mother, asking if her daughter had come home yet.

“How would I know that?” you had snapped at her. Surely, she didn’t expect you to know who was in her house in the middle of the night? It was her house…

“Because she’s staying with you,” the concerned mother had answered.

“Ah,” you answered, grabbing your wife’s shoulder and shaking her until she was awake. “We were under the impression that our daughter was staying with you.”

Your wife had called Mike’s parents, who had also established that their son was not where he was supposed to be.

Long story short: Everyone was in serious trouble.

And now you were on your way to some club, your knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel so hard, and you barely managed to stifle a yawn. In the passenger seat, your wife threatened to drift off to sleep. The only reason you had taken her with you was so you wouldn’t make a gigantic scene — no matter how much that was exactly what you wanted to do.

Syverson and his wife were already there, attempting to convince the bouncer to let them into the club without paying some ridiculous entrance fee, while your daughter’s friend’s parents stood off to the side, looking more and more nervous by the minute.

Your wife walked to the door. “Now you listen to me, pal,” she snapped. “My daughter is in there and if you don’t want me to get everyone here fired and then sue this place to high heavens for letting minors in, then you let us go in there and look for her right now, or so help me God!” She could be impressively scary, you noted as a smile slowly grew on your face.

She paced back to you and scowled at you when you kissed her on the forehead. “What the hell was that for?”

“You’re beautiful when you’re angry,” you said.

Your kids were, indeed, inside. They — your daughter and Mike, at least — were unlucky enough that you were the one to find them. Dancing. If you could call it that — and you quickly decided that you absolutely couldn’t call it that.

The music — again; if you could call it that — was incredibly loud, giving you a headache on top of your already particularly murderous mood, and you held on to your last shred of self-restraint with all your might to make sure you wouldn’t genuinely murder your daughter’s… boyfriend. Even just thinking the word made you want to punch something. Him, preferably.

Mike spotted you first, and you felt an overwhelming sense of pride when his face morphed into an expression of complete and utter terror. He also had the common sense to step away from your daughter immediately, who looked up around at him when she felt Mike suddenly disappear from behind her. He pointed at you, and she turned around again. Her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. Good.

With a single finger, you beckoned them both to come over, and when they were standing in front of you, you dragged them both outside.

“What were you thinking?” your wife snapped at your daughter, who looked up at you.

“Daddy, I…” You just shook your head and let your wife handle this.

When she was done — your daughter was now grounded for a month — you turned to Mike: “And your involvement in this was…?”

“They wanted to see the DJ, and I… I told them I could sneak them in. It was stupid and irresponsible—”

“Not to mention illegal.”

“—yes, that too. I’m sorry.” Mike looked down, clearly doing his best not to tremble visibly. He failed. Good.

“How’d you even swing this, James?” Mike’s dad wanted to know, his wife standing behind him, clearly trying very hard to keep her mouth shut to prevent herself from saying something she’d regret.

“It’s Mike,” Mike corrected.

“Not when I’m this goddamn mad at you it isn’t, son.”

“Hello, mrs. Walker,” Mike greeted your wife while handing her a bouquet of flowers. You rolled your eyes, even though you had no reason to. He handed a second bouquet — it was just a handful of daisies — to your daughter. “Thank you for the invitation.”

It wasn’t exactly n invitation you’d been all too excited to extend, but alas. Here he was again. Maybe grounding them hadn’t been such a good idea (even though you’d laughed at Syverson’s idea to have Mike’s punishment start two weeks later than your daughter’s, so that they’d have to go without each other for longer), because now they were just unnecessarily and inappropriately touchy.

“Thank you, Mike, these are lovely,” your wife said as she handed you the flowers. “August, darling, could you put these in a vase, please?”

You were glad to have something to do. “Of course, my angel.”

“Gross,” your daughter said while rolling her eyes, and you glared at her, biting your tongue to keep yourself from making your sarcastic remark.

“Eh,” Mike shrugged, “my parents are worse. I think it’s sweet.”

You watched over the edge of the newspaper while Mike helped your daughter set the table, while your wife continuously glanced at you in her signature ‘I told you so’ kind of way. You had already tentatively agreed with her that he wasn’t a bad kid! What more did she want?

Dinner was unbearable, and your wife had to warn you more than once to stop cutting your food so hard you nearly sawed your way through your plate on more than one occasion, and you gritted your teeth as you tried to focus on your dinner instead of watching the two lovebirds. At least they were trying to keep it decent, which was much appreciated, but it didn’t necessarily make things much easier for you.

“What did you tell her?” you asked your wife — calmly, you hoped — when your daughter slammed the door behind her after an unusually quick escape from the house.

“Not much,” she answered. You knew for a fact she’d been pretty on top of the sex ed stuff for years now. “A reminder that she shouldn’t do things she isn’t ready for. And to use protection.”

“Hmm.” Whether you were finally getting used to the idea of your daughter going out with Michael Syverson, or your wife and her relentless support of their relationship had finally worn you down, you didn’t exactly know.

“August,” she said as she sat down next to you and leaned into your side, “I know you’re trying to protect her, but you can’t stop this. It’ll happen sooner or later. Sooner, rather than—”

“I know,” you growled.

“You were sixteen when—”

“I know.” It hurt to clench your teeth the way you did, but it was all you could do to stop yourself from screaming. “If he hurts her…”

“She takes after you, dear,” your wife chuckled. “He doesn’t stand a chance.”

“He asked you to where now?” Your eyebrows shot up a mile and at least a month’s worth of acceptance disappeared like snow in the desert when your daughter told you the news that Mike had asked her to prom.

“Prom, dad. You kn—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But you don’t have—”

“Senior prom, dad. His prom.”

“You’re a sophomore,” you grumbled, your eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Yes, dad, Mike asked me, a sophomore, to go with him, a senior, to his senior prom, which I wouldn’t be able to go to unless I was invited by a senior. Like him. Can you exit psycho dad-mode for three seconds? Can I please go?” Your wife had been right when she said your daughter took after you in many ways, but damn if she didn’t have her eyes. And you were powerless against those.

“Yes, princess,” you sighed softly. “You can go.”

She wrapped her arms around your neck, and for the first time in months you saw a little more of your princess and a little less of the teenage monstrosity she’d grown into over the past few years. Apart from the horrible shrieking in your ear, that was.

“Can you do me one favor, please?”

“Tell me you’re not asking to approve my dress, or whatever?” Ah, there she was again. The monstrosity.

“Take your mother shopping for it. She’d like that.” And, hopefully, she’d come home with something halfway presentable, at least.

The doorbell rang at seven o’clock on the dot. At least Syverson had bothered to teach his boy some manners. He handed another stunning bouquet to your wife — which might have been more impressive if his mother hadn’t owned the flower shop in town — and nervously fidgeted with the box that held a rather beautiful corsage. No doubt also a courtesy of his mom.

“That’s a very nice tux, Mike,” your wife said with a smile in an attempt to diffuse the ever-growing tension in the hallway while you waited for your daughter to finally finish getting ready.

“Thanks, it’s mine,” he answered. “Dad has a ridiculously big family; I have a million cousins… lots of weddings.”

“Hey.” You all turned to the source of the sound; the voice of your daughter standing at the top of the stairs.

“Holy sh—” Mike cleared his throat — smart move. “Wow. You look… wow.” He rushed towards her to help her down the last few steps of the stairs.

“You look good too,” she said shyly.

“Not next to you, I don’t,” he managed — but barely.

As you watched Mike awkwardly trying to help your daughter with the corsage, memories of your own prom came flooding back to you, and you couldn’t fight a smile off your face. It wasn’t for lack of trying, of course, but the sight of them was simply too… adorable to stay mad about. Next to you, your wife grabbed your hand and squeezed it. She had tears in her eyes, you noticed, when she rushed past you to get the camera.

“Mom. Mom, stop. You took like four thousand pictures already, it’s enough. Enough! Please, let us leave, we’re going to miss the whole thing… Mom! Dad, tell mom she’s being insane!” Finally, you weren’t the one who was considered insane!

“I think that’s plenty, darling,” you said as you pulled your wife back and put a hand on the camera to get her to lower it. “Get out, you two, I only have so much to say around here. Have fun… but not too much fun.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” your wife added.

You rolled your eyes. “Like that narrows it down.”

“Dad!” your daughter shrieked before pulling Mike towards the door.

Your wife had successfully convinced you that going to bed early would be best. You needed a distraction, after all, and if she was so kind to offer to provide you with one, who were you to refuse her?

It was nearly midnight when you woke up with her curled up next to you, to the sound of footsteps on the stairs. A set of footsteps too many, that was.

“August, don’t,” you heard next to you when you attempted to get out of bed to put a stop to these shenanigans immediately. What did she mean ‘don’t’? You were just supposed to let them… “If it weren’t for you, I’d have let him stay over the first time she asked. Going in there, guns blazing, is not going to make this go away. They’ll find another place. Another time. And I meant what I said about the backseat of that car… If you have any faith in the way we raised our daughter, then trust her.”

Falling asleep again was hard, but nowhere near as hard as not throwing Mike down the stairs when you ran into him a few hours later, when he was on his way to the bathroom.

“I’m dead, aren’t I?’

You took a deep, shaky breath to steady yourself before speaking. “We’ll talk about that over breakfast. I can and will promise you right now, that you’ll be in some real trouble if you sneak out before then.”

“Coffee?” you grumbled when your daughter appeared in the kitchen the following morning, freshly showered, with Mike walking a step behind her.

“Yeah. Thanks,” she whispered as she sat down as far away from you as possible. You looked at the two trembling teens in front of you and realized your wife had been right — yet again — when she had said that if you handled this wrong, they’d never come to you if they were in trouble. Ever.

“It’s been brought to my attention that I may have been a bit… overbearing,” you said, ignoring the eyerolls from both your wife and your daughter. Mike just stared at the table. “And I’m sorry.”

You sighed as three jaws dropped in complete and utter bewilderment. “That being said… The two of you still broke the rules, and he stayed here without permission, which means you, young lady, will be grounded for a week,” you said, watching your daughter grab Mike’s arm. She looked hurt… “Starting tomorrow.” The two exchanged a surprised look and finally smiled.

“Does he have to leave?” she asked carefully.

“No, princess,” you said softly, “he doesn’t.”

“Where’s that ruthless jerk I married?” Your wife wrapped her arms around you and pulled you close while you let out a deep sigh.

“He said ‘I do’,” you grumbled. “And he had a daughter.”

“Daddy?” Your daughter’s voice was soft and small. The hurt in it crushed you, although you had to admit you were relieved to have confirmation that Mike was upstairs in your shower all by himself, if you were honest. “Are you mad at me?”

You reached for her, and she hugged you — almost like she used to. “No, princess, I could never be mad at you.”

“I’m still your—”

“I know,” you whispered.

“Are you mad at Mike?” Her voice got even lower than before, and she avoided your eyes.

“No,” you answered truthfully. “Unless he hurt you in any kind of way, in which case he’s a dead man.”

“Did you forget you forced self defense classes on me until I was a black belt?” she laughed, wiping away the single tear that had escaped her eye.

“That’s my girl.” You couldn’t have fought back the grin if you’d tried.

Your daughter wrestled herself out of your embrace and made her way towards the hallway again, turning around in the doorway. “Ehm, does the door still have to stay open?” she asked innocently.

“I think we’re past that point,” your wife answered, ignoring your exasperated sigh.

“I’m proud of you,” she whispered as your daughter sprinted up the stairs.

“Does she know you’re here?” It didn’t take you two guesses to figure out why he was at your door. You actually remembered the moment you knocked on the door of your then-hopefully-soon-to-be-in-laws all too well.

“She does,” he answered, thanking you quickly as you impatiently gestured at him to come in. It was cold out, and money didn’t grow on trees…

“Does she know why?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not here to ask for your permission, if that’s what you’re getting at,” he said with a smirk that brought out some residual feelings of wanting to smack him. “I’m actually looking for Mrs. Walker.”

“You’re right not to,” you admitted. “She’d kill you.”

“It’s a bit of a catch-22.” He laughed. “My dad will kill me if I don’t ask, so…”

“So it’s a matter of who you’d rather be murdered by.”

“I think I’ll take my chances with my old man,” he said. “At least he’s not related to you.”

Smart man.

You followed him into the living room, where you found your wife with her nose in the book she hadn’t put down for hours. As soon as Mike walked in, she slammed it shut and put it away.

“Michael, can I help you?” she said in an unusually quirky tone, with an unusually happy smile on her face.

“I think so, yeah,” he stammered. Those nerves were finally kicking in, huh? Good. “I… Eh… She told me something about a ring… eh… her, eh…”

“Her grandmother’s engagement ring?” she helped him along gently.

He nodded furiously. “Yeah. She said that, eh… When the time came, she’d eh… She’d like to wear it. If that’s alright with you, of course.”

“God, Mike, I think I’ve never seen you more scared of me than of August,” she laughed, and you gladly joined her, leaving the poor boy standing there with bright red ears and an uneasy smile.

“First time for everything, right?”

Over the years, you’d been subjected to many a feminist lecture on outdated patriarchal values and whatnot, so it had come as quite the surprise to you when your daughter had come to you, asking you if you’d walk her down the aisle. Now that you were standing here, with her to your left, squeezing your arm so tight you feared it would result in lasting damage, you wished you’d declined, so that you’d just have been able to sit quietly next to your wife, instead of being here with no prayer of getting a handle on your own nerves.

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice taunting but with an obvious shakiness to it.

“You’re one to talk, princess,” you retorted, “I can barely feel my fingers.”

She relaxed her grip on your arm a bit, chuckling softly. “Will you behave?”

“Me? Always.”

As far as you were concerned, the walk could have lasted forever. You knew it had to end, and it did — way too soon — and all that was left for you to do was…

“I love you, daddy,” she whispered before you managed to move.

“And I love you, princess,” you replied softly. “Always.”

Then, you finally placed her hand in Mike’s. “She’s your problem now, son. And I have a very strict no-return-policy.”

#august walker fanfic #mike hellraiser #august walker #mike hellraiser fanfiction #august walker fanfiction #august walker fluff

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spiderlingh · 2 years

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Élite Season 5 Review

‘cause why not? obviously contains spoilers.

so i wasn’t planning on watching this season after the mess that was season 4

EVERYONE currently in this show is so fucking annoying.

even samu. and that man had some great character development in the past

except for rebe. my beloved

cayetana baby i thought we were over spending our time with shitty men babe???

anyway. onto the new ones. and old new ones.

old new ones;

patrick - still don’t like him

mencia - yoooo i thought this chick was annoying last season (n everyone thought she was a baddie? like no baby) but to me she was even more unlikeable now!

ari - miss girl i liked you during the first 3 episodes why tf are you cheating on samu ???

benjamin - this is the worst fucking character in the show. this man is the equivalent of arturo from la casa de papel for me. jesus christ someone summon polo from the dead or lu from new york so either of them can rip that man’s head off

philippe - ugh i hate him but glad he at least had the decency to stand up for isadora after the events in ibiza

new new ones;

isadora - annoying as shit for the first five episodes! tho i gotta admit i like how they portrayed her struggle with addiction. hated what happened to her later on :((

portugese man whose name i could not bother remembering - thoroughly dislike him! screwing a taken girl? u ain’t cute! (and his actor, a white man, has repeatedly said the n-word on camera! so that’s a no from me)

black guy whose name i also don’t remember - don’t like him. bro what even was the point this man appeared for 2 scenes lmaooo

onto basic things;

i want the old inspector back?? but i bet that lady was just done w all this las encinas bullshit lmao

i have disliked omar since like season 2 or something and this man just keeps digging his own damn grave…

this season was so boring ugh

why do they keep making things bigger and grander? parties, origins of the characters? not a vibe

at first it was just about the kids of lawyers, diplomats, marchionesses, et cetera

now everyone is a prince? or super famous? or owner of ‘several businesses and half of ibiza’ at fucking seventeen or whatever age these kids are?

obviously this isn’t the number one show to pick based on realism but it’s so over the top that it just icks me

the amount of inappropriate age gap relationships the past two seasons has only gone up and i certainly do not approve. yikes

sex scenes lack everything a good sex scene should have! it’s just awkward to watch at this point

THE ENDING???

i know that samuel is one of the least liked characters of the show but i actually really like him (ever since s2 came out)… so seeing him end up dead (it’s not confirmed but i highly doubt he’s alive) hit harder than i expected. after all the shit he’s been through, he ended up being another victim. i know they had to write him off somehow because itzan is not returning for season 6 but man… i’d truly hoped for his happy ending. fuck.

i’m sorry but none of the characters that were introduced to us after season 2 seem to have any kind of depth. that is, unless you count daddy issues! (i have those too babe. you’re not special.)

season 1 to 3 were so much better. a popular opinion, as i’m aware, but fucking hell does it need to be said. it feels like an entirely different show now.

i miss truly interesting characters. polo, carla, lu, guzman, nadia. hell, even marina and nano. christian. i miss them.

the storyline was better, the murder mystery was better, it was all connected and so captivating and well written.

the costumes were better and more fitting (they become more and more ridiculous with each season). soundtrack used to be much better. I MISS IT DUDE.

even the acting/casting has gone downhill. none of the new actors speak to me in any way whatsoever, definitely not like the old cast did.

netflix should’ve ended it with season 3. everything came to a close with everything surrounding marina’s death being revealed, carla confessing and polo dying, just after guzman forgave him. it could’ve been a perfect ending.

anyways, i’m gonna rewatch season 1 and 2 because they’re still as fun for me to watch as the first time i watched them.

not sure whether i’ll be watching the upcoming season. but you’ll hear from me then ;)

#elite #elite spoilers #elite season 5 #elite s5 #eliteedit #carla roson caleruega #samuel garc?a dom?nguez #guzman osuna nunier #polo benavent #lucrecia montesinos #nadia shana #omar shana #netflixedit #elite netflix

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minshookie · 3 years

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High Ransom.

Pairing |Mafia!BTS x innocent!reader

Genre | smut, angst, dark themed, mafia AU.

Summary | “They all knew your mothers word was good for nothing, she’d never pay it back. So they settled for a painful compromise.”

!warnings! Please read this before reading the fic| 18+ mature language, perverse actions, virginity loss, violent sex, anal sex, oral fem and male receiving, financial struggle, parent death, strict and neglecting mother, cum eating, darcyphilia, urolagnia,slight hate-fuck,reader insert is of age, extremely naive & innocent insert. I do not agree or support any actions depicted in this fictional work,rape. !!NON-CON!! !!non-con!!

| this is not in anyway shape or form a true depiction or representation of BTS, this is a work of fiction and is not to be taken seriously. For entertainment purposes only.|

(this is my work, please don’t repost or steal)

Requested [open for request] words: 4k.

A/N: 200 Follwers?! Hi, I love y’all sm 🤧. But on a serious note, this is the filthiest thing I’ve ever written, I warned y’all. Also the longest one of written yet. I hope it isn’t too much :’) please excuse any mistakes or grammatical errors.

Could they be running late? Shivering you sat in the windowsill towel wrapped around you keeping a sharp eye for their large dark SUV you loved so dearly. They were supposed to be here today, right? Getting up you stretch your legs going to look at your heavily decorated calendar,‘Friends Day!!’ In bright pink informed you, yes indeed they were to be here today.

A smile crept on your face, the confirmation made you feel giddy, the thought of seeing them again made you excited beyond belief. “Y/n I just know you’re dressed and not dripping all over the carpet!” Your mother teased from the living room. You swore she had cameras on you, unraveling yourself you chose one of the few outfits she had put together for you for guest appearances. Closing the curtains, making them look as casual as you could. You then sat on the bed waiting for her to come inspect, counting her footsteps along the creaking wood floors. She crept into your room, a stern expression on her face, you could tell she was stressed with nothing positive to say she mumbled “Stop pulling that face you look exactly like your father.”

You stood from the drab mattress choosing not to respond, “wet spot on the floor?! What’d I tell you to do?!” You hung your head, why must she always scold you. “You told me to get dressed Momma.” She sighed, “and you chose to come in here and prance around, flood the floors and dilly dally instead!” You studied the minuscule dark spots on the carpet, “they’ll dry momma.” You whispered under your breath hoping she wouldn’t decipher your response.

“Excuse me?” She griped your cheek in a pinch making you pull your head up to face her. She took a step back releasing your face, she sucked her teeth in disapproval. “Y/n you’ll have stay in here, that dress has gotten too short on you.” She knew her words hurt you, seeing the boys was the only thing you looked forward to every month. Their attention sometimes felt like your only reason to go forward, to avoid conflict with your mother, their presence being a type of reward. She turned to go and your vision began to blur, tears warmly cascade your plumped cheek.

Leaving you alone in the room, you resume your position in the windowsill moving the curtains just enough to peak. Still no sign of them, maybe they’d given up on the money, left you for good and you couldn’t blame them. If you could leave you would too. At that moment all hopes were given up, no longer keeping an eye out you began to daydream... at least Momma would be happier no longer having to worry about the escalating debt.

Sulking in loneliness you barely noticed a white SUV pulling into their usual cut....whose this? You opened the curtains repositioning,hands in the glass knees on the jagged wood of the windowsill bench. Couldn’t be, oh but it was! You bounced like a hyperactive child, Hoseok climbed from the drivers seat handsomely waving directly at you. They all followed offering you waves and air kisses making both your stomach and heart do flips. Tumbling from the bench you run to your door eccentric to get your fix of attention, affection, friendship.

“Get back y/n, what did I say?” She was waiting for you to break her command, she knew you’d forget. “To stay in my ro-” “so why don’t you do as told for once?” You fought the bitter tears as they knocked on the door, You shuffled back into your cage of room like a kicked puppy. Shutting the door you sat on the floor compressing your ear along the hard wood.

“Ah, welcome! Come in take a seat can I get you a drink or a meal? Anything really.” She spoke with a quiver, she had nothing to pay them back with absolute zilch. “Where’s y/n?” You smiled warmly, that voice had to be Taehyung. “She’s in bed sick.” “Sick, she looked alright from the window.” Hoseok you idiot. “I’m sorry... you saw her through the window?”

“Ah Ah, we didn’t come to talk about the build of y/n’s room you know what he want.” Jin was all serous business, the room was silent. “Next month for sure.” She lied right through her teeth and they all knew it. “You said that last month, and the month before, and the month before that.” You held your breath, you hated it when they bickered she honestly didn’t have the money you two only lived in this house because it was your father’s property, and everything you got just by luck and the skin of your teeth. She simply couldn’t afford to borrow anymore, as the boys began to add impossible interest.

“Listen, we’ve let you off the hook because of your circumstances,we had a soft spot, we held you at a respect for your strength...but now the well is drying up on patience and your debt is growing into a monstrosity.” Namjoon gave his spiel

“Your husband may be dead, but honey you’re next if this money doesn’t turn up...and the plans they have for y/n aren’t cute, if you had any decency you’d get your ass off that insurance money and pay up, don’t forget you pay for protection and soon you’re going to start getting what you pay for.” Yoongi was rude whenever he came to collect, almost never staying for the excuses once ‘no’ or ‘later’ was uttered he’d head for the door, but today he decided to do otherwise.

The room fell quiet, and though your mother was cold and not much of a mother at all to you it pained you to hear her sobs and sniffing. You could tell the words being thrown at her stung her deeply. Curious to what was going on behind your door you decided to have a peak, and apparently you weren’t too good at sneaking. Your door cracked ajar, as if he knew it would happen you made direct eye contact with Taehyung.

“Boys I-I don’t know what you want from me you know the money isn’t in my possession right n-” “y/n! Come out from hiding kitten!” Opening the door you stood reading the room, your mothers face glistening, you know better than to disobey on purpose. “It’s ok y/n c’mon we want to see you.” Joon’s smile is so captivating his voice so relaxing, but your mothers gaze killed its power. “C’mon tell her she can come out.” Jin orders and your mother complies by giving you a nod of permission, sniffing over her concealed cries. It ached your but you were too excited to comfort her as you quickly escaped your confines.

“Ohh look at your pretty dress, come sit.” Taehyung pulled you onto his lap, “isn’t it pretty boys?” He pulled the fringes that decorated the bottom, barely reaching you mid thigh. “Everything’s beautiful on our y/n.” Jimin agrees, greeting you with a flirtatious wink. Making you smile into Taehyung’s chest. “Bashful girl.” His large hand rubbed your back soothingly.

“This delicate little thing around all those men with no one to help her, tsk could you imagine.” He glided his hand along your exposed thigh “that tickles.” Whispering into him you feel you face warm up. He hums in response, “want me to stop?” “No, I’ve missed you, I’ve missed all of you!” You turned catching all of their gazes, “same to you princess.” Jin chuckled, giving you a cheek kiss.

“Please let her-r go ba-ck now.” Their smiles faded, and you’d hate to admit it but yours as well. You’d usually never go against your mother but she just didn’t want to see you happy, ever. And you hated it. “Momma...I don’t wanna go back right now, can I be with my friends?” Her eyes stretched in shock and anger, the boys found your rebellion comedic letting a chuckle escape. “Y/n get back to your room now you have no clue what you’re playing with!” Her tone made you wince, no longer feeling bold you were about to comply. Taehyung griped your waist holding you back on top of him.

“And who are you to order someone around when you can’t follow orders yourself?” She sat speechless, “Taehyung, Namjoon, Jin...next month.” Her pleads were pathetic, even you knew it wouldn’t work this time. “No. Pay up today, or we’ll be taking some sweet sweet collateral.”At the moment you didn’t fully understand or care what exactly Taehyung was threatening, the only thing your brain could focus on being his rough palm griping and rubbing your inner thigh. The sensation caused a tingle within you, you couldn’t help but fidget in his lap. “Still tickling baby?” You nodded, a bit too flustered to speak.

“I-I I have a hundred or two I can give.” His hand ceased its motions, making you whine for more of the foreign feeling. He lifted a brow in suspect “You take us as a joke don’t you?” She shook her head frantically. “You just offered us not even a fraction of a year's worth of debt...you think we’re idiots, you think we won’t do what we say we will do you?” The tension made you uncomfortable as everyone glared at your mother for her response, you gripped Taehyung’s dark suit. “Hmph, okay Y/n, show us your pretty room Love.”

A simple request made your mother stand in protests, “going to get the rest of the money?” Yoongi asked knowingly, your mother trembled. Why was she so afraid, they only asked to see your room...maybe she was still upset over the wet spots. “No? Well I suggest you sit the fuck down.” Everyone left from their seat, “go on show us Petal.” He smiled in encouragement. You pulled Taehyung by his hand showing all of them into your seemingly empty room, nothing to embellish the space besides your curtains, calendar and bed.

“Very cute, very cute, right boys?” They hummed nodding while looking at the four bland walls around them. “Jungkook won’t you close the door please.” He demands the youngest, and he does as told, letting your catch a two second glance if your sniveling mother before your fate was sealed. “Lock it will you?” “Uhm it doesn’t lock.” You confessed plopping down on your plush mattress kicking your feet over the edge. “Ahh, Jungkook...make it lock.” He went to work and you watched curiously until your attention was taken by Taehyung climbing in bed next to you. “Very comfy.” He complemented.

“Oh, oh please take your shoes off.” You recited rules that were practically engraved in your memory. He laughed complying, “you heard her, shoes off.” They did as told, making your laugh at their unison actions. You turned to him with a smile still on your face, “want to see my closet?” “No, but I do want you to lay down.” You gave him an inquisitive look, you weren’t sick and you definitely weren’t tired. “It’s ok, I just wanted to play a game, a friends game.”

Oh how excited you were! A game with your friends! You laid down beside him your head rested on your pillow. “Ready?” You nodded eagerly, the rest of them watched closely. “Ok beautiful, I’m going to ask you some things and all you have to do is tell me if you’ve done it before...” he looked around at his men, they looked back with anticipation. “We’ll all play.” You nodded, beyond excited for this new experience.

“We’ll start easy, have you ever kissed someone?” Your face grew a dopey grin, “don’t be shy.” You nodded quickly, “oh? Show me how.” Sitting up a bit, you took his jaw, turning him to the side pecking his warmed cheek quickly. He smiled widely, “innocent little thing, here let’s try this.” He took your jaw in his fingers, coming in and ravishing your lips. Unknowingly you lay motionless as he took over the kiss, maneuvering you as he pleased. Pulling your slack chin he parted your lips, his tongue intruded sharing his taste. A tingle ran through you, you’ve never seen something like this let alone feel it. Taehyung pulled back trailing slobber as he lifted, “m-more more kissing!” He shook his head, laughing at your greed. “No no, there’s more to the game.”

Smirking he snuck his hand under your quaint dress, “ever let Somebody like me see your cute little panties?” You shook your head no, “let us see?” You eagerly pulled your dress up, “pretty in pink...wet your panties hmm?” Sheepishly you shut your legs, “sorry.” He rubbed your exposed tummy, “no don’t be sorry kitten, that’s great, so good.” He dragged his fingers along your pelvic area. “Yoongi, your turn?” Taehyung continued to brush your skin.

Yoongi stood from his seat on the floor in speciation. He brought his finger between your legs using his other hand to push your legs apart. “Ever felt something like this?” He ran his fingers up and down your middle, pausing along the top giving you an oddly familiar feeling that you loved. “Mm.” You moved a bit closer to the pleasure. “Yoongi stop, answer him y/n.” Nodding you yearned for yoongi’s fingers. “Don’t lie...show us.”

Rolling over you pulled a pillow from behind you positioning it between your legs as you lay on your side. “Go on.” Yoongi nudged you and you began to rub yourself, pushing the pillow firmer into your core whimpering as the pressure increased, “it feels so good!” “Naughty naughty y/n.” You continued to pleasure yourself, “mm I know, please don’t tell anybody.” Taehyung took the pillow rubbing his finger along the wet spot you left behind. “You ever cum sweetheart?” You squeeze your legs together hoping for pleasureful friction. “What’s that?”

“You’ve been rubbing yourself raw with no release?” He had a glint of pitty in his tone. “ I-I guess.” Yoongi had began his adventurous handy work once again and you couldn’t get enough. He sat beside you, looking into your eyes intently. “How’s it feel?” “Good, please don’t stop!” Taehyung pulled his partners hand away, “don’t give her too much Hyung.”

You pout squirming, itching with pent up sexual frustrations. “You both play like she’s a doll, she’s a woman, you know what she wants even if she doesn’t.” Jin came from his spot leaned against the corner, he came close stalking over your figure, “take these off.” He pulled your panties roughly you could hear the weak fabric give way as he stripped you.

“Careful.” You felt self conscious as they eyed your nude private area, Jin took over where Yoongi was removed, the direct contact could make you scream in joy, “close your eyes.” Jin ordered, and who are you to say no to the pleasure. A strange warmth took over your core making your hips jump uncontrollably “mhhm please.” “Hold her down Hoseok.” Even that simple second of neglect made you upset. Your hips were restrained and Jin continued his work, “sorry.” You opened your eyes to meet Taehyung’s gaze and a smile was plastered on his features, looking down at Jin who was kissing your privates, so strange but so amazing.

“Oh please!” You couldn’t control your moans, closing your eyes, “too good princess?” “Mm too good.” Jin removed his lips from you “you're a savage Kim.” Jungkook comments eyes glued to your core, as if he couldn’t resist the view. “Some hair shows she is healthy n’ pure , but you wouldn’t know anything about that, you like your women whorish” He comments lewdly wiping his plump lips. They stood in speculation as you pressed your thighs together desperately. “Oh please! Jin please more!” You earned a hand over your mouth. In attempts to shut your pathetic whines. “Please don’t hurt her!” Your mother beat the door with concern. “Does she sound hurt, don’t make us do something we don’t want to, now go away!” Taehyung growled, before leaving the bed, he undid his pants the respect in you made you look away. “Ever see this before?” He climbed over you, too cowardly to peak, you kept looking into his dark irises. “Your private?” He laughed in your face, “my cock?” He sat on your legs trapping you. He pulled your dress over your head, fully undressing you with ease.

Taken over my temptation, Jimin groped your clothed chest “don’t touch her.” His command was final, Taehyung had been taken by the monster of greed and lust. “Go on look y/n.” Your eyes slowly traveled down, he had himself in his clutches stroking squeezing at the tip collecting the strange ooze on the tips of his fingers. Reaching he glossed your lips with his juices, “never wear makeup, this is all you need pretty girl.” The smell was strong and musky, curious you took a taste, sweaty and sweet. “Greedy girl...you know where this belongs?” He tapped you with his erect cock.

“I don’t think so.” He nodded, reaching below himself without hesitation he penetrated you with his index. “Ouch Tae!” His eyes stretched in surprise, “that hurts? Oh what fun you’ll be.” His finger stretched you slightly as he explored, thrusting softly, curly at the knuckle. Pulling his finger back, and a thick stripe of cloudy grool connects the two of you. “Shit, would you look at that.” They came looking as you lay victim Yoongi had pulled himself from his pants stroking himself shamelessly. Hoseok unbuttoned his top, his fist buried in his pants, while Jimin palmed himself giving you a warm smile, while Jungkook sat timid away from the action and Jin’s face set stoney, seemingly uninterested. Namjoon being the false comfort he was, he stood close, his bulge in your face as he stroked your hair.

Out of breath, the best you could muster being, “I’m sorry if it’s gross.” Lustfully he used your nectar to stroke himself sensually making violent eye contact in the act.

“Stop apologizing, this is the best cunt I’ve ever seen.” Using his foreign vulgar vocabulary he moved back, using his hands to get a better view of your most personal area. “Oh honey, you’ve never had anything in this sweet pussy of yours huh?” You shook your head, “no never.” You whisper. “Let’s change that yeah? Will you be a big girl?” You nodded body full of utter curiosity, what was coming for you the last thing you could have fathomed.

“Mm, you’re the sweetest thing on Earth y/n” he gazed into you, looking your shivering body up and down as if you two were completely alone. He lowered himself distracting you with another one sided kiss, this time though you attempted to participate.

Little did you know his hidden agenda, he gripped his girthy member, massaging it along your slickening core in search of your small entrance. “Ah Ah Taehyungie!” You squealed against his lips. He’d barely pushed into you and the pain was prominent “shh shh wouldn’t want to make momma upset.” He paused and looked down at your slightly connecting bodies. “Hmm Let’s play another game.” He reached for the pillow you were pleasuring yourself on, he placed it over your face constricting your air in the process, muffling your pathetic whimpers and mewls.

In one violent action...“TEAHYUNG!” Your throat felt as if it would collapse,He forced himself into your constructing entrance ripping your walls you felt yourself struggle to become accustomed his size. His pace inhuman. You gasped for air,the pillow blocking any gasp you could get. “I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe Tae!” He kept his murderous stroke speed pulling the pillow from your face you heaved, sobbing, screaming begging for freedom. “Shut the fuck up!” It could’ve been the tears, or haze of pain, but this wasn’t your friend anymore.

Taehyung’s face as contorted in sick pleasure inconsiderate of your wellbeing he gripped your hips fucking into you aggression never seen before. “T-Tae please we’re friends don’t hurt me!” You cried out for his mercy. “Hold her fucking mouth Min.” He obliged, his hand slick from his own juices. He stood over you griping and jerking his member, keeping his eyes on yours. “Close your damn eyes, your crying is going to make me soft.” That only made you cry more, the treatment you were getting from Taehyung caused an ache you couldn’t help but sob from. “It i-it fucking hurts!” You let the filth spill from your mouth as you groaned with every thrust, your statement muffed by Yoongi’s palm.

“Close. Them. Now.” Stubbornly you kept staring, you won’t obey them, friends aren’t supposed to to hurt you, ever. “Ahh fuck.” Yoongi began to vandalize your face, removing his hand from your mouth pulling your hair to aim for your mouth. “Ah shit shit.” He continued to stroke grumbling heinous names under his breath. “My eyes please help me momma,it hurts momma!” He’d spurted right in your eye and he knew it. “I told you to close them idiotic bitch, you obey us you’ll be alright.” He took your discarded panties wiping your eye.

You didn’t listen to his angered grumblings...She didn’t respond, she left you to suffer, you were being naughty and she could hear and she left you to suffer. The pain in your eye became dull as you became numb to Taehyung’s assault. “She left you, that bitch left you in here to get fucked, and you’re going to take everything we give thanks to mommy dearest...no one is going to rescue you.” Yoongi growled I’m your ear, you turned from him. His seed still rests on your pained features.

Taehyung pushed his thumbs roughly into your abdomen making you cry out. “Your cunt is still so tight, mm fuck stop clenching like that- I’m gonna fucking- oh shit.” He sent his seed deep into you, the sensation was sickening you began to dry heave having nothing in you to throw up. “Throwing up sweetheart?” You ignored his false concern, he gripped your hair. “Think twice before you do, you’ll be cleaning it with that pretty mouth every drop.”

Your face drenched in tears, snot and slobber, and the seed of another, you lay in defeat. He pulled his member for your stinging and burning feeling settled between your legs. “Nice job, you’ve beat her bloody.” Jin grumbled coming near, your entrance oozed a mixture of his cum and blood from your lost innocents. His finger brushed against your puffy injured vulva, “please no no nooo!” You instinctively backed away from the contact.

“My turn princess.” Your eyes closed, you could tell it was Jimin planning his attack. “Please Jimin, you’re still my friend right?” You Sobbed to weakly to even look into his eyes, Jimin had to put an end to it or it wouldn’t end at all. “I treat all my girlfriends this way, hm don’t worry baby it won’t hurt-” you heard him wander closer, “just open up.” You refused, turning your head away from his voice, “Ah y/n don’t be that way.” He slightly scolded pulling you back his way by your jaw, “open your mouth y/n.” You opened your eyes, glaring at him, your right eye blurring and irritated. He rubbed his member along your pursed lips. “No?” He leaned over, his member in his over hand. “Open. The. Fuck! Up.” He slapped your pussy harshly with every word, already sore you cried out, begging for mercy.

He took the opportunity, plunging his cock down your throat, gagging you choked and cried. “Yah stupid Bitch watch your teeth!” He gripped the back of your head, another agonizing ordeal. Your throat was sore from the screaming and now your throat was being rubbed roughly by Jimin’s third leg. “I’m gonna c-cum, and you’re gonna swallow all of it and you’re gonna keep it down.”

You couldn’t protest, you got used just as before you closed your eyes and prayed for it to be over as quick as it started. Hoseok neared you like a predator, “careful she’s sore.” You opened your eyes quickly, he had his pants completely off, his member erect his shirt open his sculpted body on display. You sobbed around jimins member as he took his time fucking himself into you. “I’m not putting my prick I that mess.” He referred to your battered entrance, he placed his clock between your folds, rubbing himself their. Even the subtle pressure gave you discomfort, “hey! Watch those fucking teeth slut!” Jimin beat the back of your head, picking up his pace.

“She sounds so fucking nasty.” Namjoon pulled himself out of his trousers “choking and gagging, fucking whore I wouldn’t fuck you even if your mom offered all the money she owed.” Namjoon insulted, pulling closer, “what an asshole.” Jimin grunted in retaliation. “This is all you’ll get from me.” Namjoon leaned over you, assaulting you relieving himself on your quaking body. “You sick bastard!” They found Namjoon’s action sickly humorous. He moved to your face, you tried to stop breathing in fear of inhaling it. Warmly it dribbled over you. “I bet you fucking enjoyed it.”

Jimin pushed your damp head down on him as he exploded in your mouth, that scene being all he needed to find his high. His seed was salty and less sweet; he tasted repulsive. You gagged as he removed himself, you leaned over the bed in utter pain heaving. “AHT HEY!” Taehyung cupped your mouth, “swallow be a good girl.” He rolled you back, you tried but your body refused, you gagged against his musty palm. Jimin pinched your nose “take it, take it, take it!” Air became scarce, you gulped ingesting his warm seed, the taste blanketed your throat.

They let you breathe, Hoseok found his release on your tummy, scooping it with his agile fingers he force fed you. “Please...n-no...more.” “Shut up, your breath reeks.” Your stomach flipped, you were going to be sick soon. “Roll her over.” Jin instructed, and of course they followed you let them do as they please, not like you could stop them. “Your pussy is beautiful, but I love a nice ass.” He unbuckled his belt, letting his pants fall. Spitting vulgarly, stroking himself. “Bite the pillow.” He pulled you up by your waist. Using his thumb he rimmed you.

Getting positioned he spit on your hole. The room was quiet. “Bite it hard.” He pushed himself mercilessly barely breaking through, “tight little bitch.” Your screeching earsplitting You’d become unconscious soon the pain was excruciating, you knew you were bleeding. “Please! I’ll do anything!Please not this, no more of this!” Finally he bottomed you out, “this is what love feels like, hmph remember that.” Jin growled fucking into you barely able to keep a pace.

Your vision blurred, slurring was your only form of speaking back, covered in piss and cum, tears and snot. Drooling all over yourself like an imbecile, bleeding. They’ve used you out, good for nothing you fell into the void of unconsciousness, sweet relief.

A dull jabbing welcomed you back into the real world, no way was this some sort of twisted dream the disgusting smell registered back into your senses. The smell was you. “Fucking hell Jungkook finish already.” You’d been sick all over the mattress in your sleep, your mouth stale and stiff.

“I’m so sorry y/n I’m so sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry!” Blinking you looked over your shoulder, tears streamed his rounded face. “Ugh so sorry.” He gagged looking at your abused figure covered in bodily grime. “P-please turn around so it can be over.” Pitying you he held his head down shamefully thrusting to unwanted orgasm. He too filled you warmly pulling out quickly, scurrying to the corner losing his breakfast. “H-hy-'' he retched again. “Let’s go please, let’s leave.” He begged holding his stomach, Jungkook is still your friend, right? You could see he didn’t want to hurt you...

They put their clothes back on lazily.

“Be a peach and tell your mother we’ll be back next month on the dot, hopefully you won’t have to cover her tab two visits in a row huh sweetheart?”

“I hate you, all of you.”

“Ah, but we love you, and we always will.”

(Not my photo)

(Please interact like•reblog•reply it helps sm!)

@minshookie

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puckinghell · 4 years

Text

Acts Of Service | Elias Pettersson

Summary: When people have different love languages, sometimes it’s hard to understand what the other is trying to say. 4 times Elias shows you he loves you, and the 1 time you tell him. Words: 7.5k (whoops) Note: This concept was very interesting to explore. Also yes, this entire thing was written because of that one picture of Elias in that blue sweater stepping out of the car like a fucking GQ model.

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(Some time ago)

“Didn’t you say there’s an apartment free in your building?” Brock asked as soon as you answered the phone, forgoing the “hello”.

“Hello, Brock, my very good friend, how nice to talk to you! How are you doing?” you deadpanned.

At least he had the decency to sound ashamed. “Ah, yes, hi. Sorry. I’m just in a hurry and it’s important.”

You frowned. “Why? Are you looking to move?”

“No.” Brock laughed. “Stetch would kill me. No, it’s about the rookie. Petey? I told you about him. Swedish, quiet, best fucking hands in the league.”

Yes. Brock had told you about the rookie, although you still thought it dumb to call him that. Brock was basically still a rookie himself.

“What does that have to do with my apartment building?”

“He said no to having a billet family but everyone on the team thinks it’d be good for him to have someone to kinda look out for him a bit. He’s never been to Canada before this, you know, and he’s never lived on his own either. His English isn’t that great and everything is new for him. And since you’re such a caring, loving person, we thought…”

“You thought I could babysit him?” you finished for Brock.

“It’s not babysitting. Just, being friendly if he needs anything. Obviously we’re there for that too, but it’d be nice to have you so close by.”

Close by would be an understatement: the free apartment was across the hall from yours.

You weren’t sure if this sounded like something that you would necessarily want to do, but you did feel a bit sorry for Elias: you’d met him at a team thing earlier that week and he’d looked completely lost in the midst of all the Canadian hockey slang that you barely managed to follow, even after having been friends with Brock for years. He mostly kept to Eagle, spoke in Swedish, and his eyes flickered nervously across the room whenever anyone else approached him.

“Fine,” you sighed, “I’ll talk to my landlord. But you owe me, Blondie.”

Brock was happy enough that he didn’t even call you out on the nickname.

“Have I told you lately how much of a lifesaver you are?” You lean across your desk, resting your chin in your hands. Elias looks mildly amused as he hands you the papers.

“Nearly every day,” he says, “but then I save your life every day, so that seems fair.”

You grab the papers from his hands.

“You’re a lifesaver and the love of my life, Petey.”

You think back to when Elias just moved into your apartment building, only because Brock thought he needed someone to look after him. You could laugh, now, thinking about how wrong he’d been.

Elias is the most self-sufficient, independent person you know. You don’t think he’s ever needed anything from anyone. Like in hockey, where he can make the play and score the goal all at the same time, Elias has his life together.

Unlike you.

Despite the fact that Elias hadn’t needed much help from you, you had become very fast friends. His quick witted sarcasm always managed to make you laugh and he liked how upfront and honest you were with him about things. It was easy, too, to spend time together. With him living just across the hall, you found yourself wandering to his apartment whenever you were bored, and he showed up at yours often when he didn’t feel like cooking.

Just because he could cook, didn’t mean he always wanted to.

And ever since the two of you had become friends, Elias had your back. When you needed someone to water your plants, or feed your cat Puck – Brock had named him – or, apparently, bring you the important work papers that you forgot at home after having worked on them all weekend.

You groan as you flick through the papers. “I thought I was going to die. Without these I can’t finish my presentation.”

“When is it?” Elias asks, eyes searching behind you. You know he’s looking out for your asshole of a boss, who will use any excuse to yell at you, especially the unannounced visit of a friend.

“Tomorrow. I got all the content in these papers here, but I still have to make the PowerPoint.” You sigh. “It’s still so much work.”

“Oh.” Elias’ face lights up. “Almost forgot. Brought you this.” Triumphantly, he reaches down and comes up with a paper bag from your favorite coffee shop.

The words fall off your lips in a gasp. “You didn’t!”

“Strawberry scone and a large caramel macchiato with soy milk.” Elias grins. “I also got you a chocolate chip cookie for later.”

“Marry me,” you proclaim, as you make grabby hands for the bag. The coffee is precisely what you need and your mouth is already watering at the idea of the food.

“Get me a ring, then,” Elias jokes, as he starts getting up from the chair.

Something tightens in your stomach, so you quickly take a bite of the scone: anything to push those feelings to the side. It works a little, and at the very least it tastes amazing.

You’re just friends. If you were gonna be anything more, Elias would’ve made a move already. Or, if you’d been brave enough, you would’ve: but he’s never said anything to make you think he’s interested and quite frankly, you’re not that brave.

“Thank you,” you say, mouth still full of scone, and Elias wrinkles his nose at that as you knew he would.

“I’m going to the store now,” he says, “anything you want me to pick up for you?”

“Wine?” you ask, hopeful. “I’m gonna need it after today.”

Elias rolls his eyes at you, but when you come home after the most grueling day at work there’s a bottle of rosé sitting in your fridge, next to a bag full of your favorite Thai take out food.

Love you, you quickly text Elias, even though you know he can’t answer because the game is about to start.

You take some time showering and putting on comfortable clothes, then situate yourself on the couch and put on the game. It has already begun, and you know it’s not gonna be an easy one, against the Bruins.

It’s not until the first intermission, when you check your phone, that you see there’s a reply from Elias waiting for you.

It’s just a simple heart emoji, but it makes your heart race anyway.

“This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I can barely hear you.” Fiona’s tone is disapproving, and you pull your mouth away from where you’d pressed it into your arm to scream.

“I said, this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me!”

She laughs. “It’s just a car, Y/N.”

You don’t necessarily like your job, but Fiona is one of the reasons you’re still putting up with it. She’s not just a colleague anymore, slowly turning into a friend and someone you confide into about everything – even about your Elias problem – and you love her, but sometimes you could murder her.

“It’s not just a car,” you bite. “It’s my only mode of transportation, because you know how much I hate taking the bus, and it’s broken, and I probably can’t even afford to get it fixed. And now I have to walk home, and it’s raining.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Fiona admits.

After a long day at work, you couldn’t wait to get home and watch The Bachelor until you fell asleep, your cat in your lap. However, when you finally got away from the office and stepped into your car, it was clear the universe had different plans.

It didn’t start.

After trying approximately 15 times, you’d screamed, nearly cried, hit the steering wheel, and then went back inside to scream and cry a little more at Fiona’s desk.

“I just wanna go home, Fi.” You know you sound miserable, but you honestly can’t help it. Taking the bus always heightens your anxiety, so you avoid it at all costs: however, walking home in this pouring rain doesn’t seem like much fun either.

And Fiona can’t even bring you home, because she takes the bus to work like a normal person.

“There’s a simple solution to this, you know,” Fiona says. She starts to organize the papers on her desk, a clear sign that she’s getting ready to leave the office as well. “You could just call…”

“No,” you interrupt her, knowing exactly where she’s going with this. “I can’t call Elias. He’s got the boys over today and I won’t interrupt his fun with my misery. Besides, he does too much for me already, I can’t ask him for more.”

“Right,” Fiona drawls, “but when he hears that you were stuck here and didn’t call him…”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, but she doesn’t have to.

Elias would be furious.

One time, you were on a night out when you got a little too tipsy and didn’t realize your phone had died. By the time you noticed, all your friends had already jumped in their respective Ubers, but you had been too busy chatting with some girl you didn’t know to order yours, and now you couldn’t because you didn’t have a phone.

You knew you could’ve asked any random person to order you an Uber, or at least to borrow their phone to call Elias – it’s not like you didn’t know his number by heart – but that felt like too much. It had been 3 am and he had a game the next day, so you decided to walk home.

When he found out the next day, he got so mad he didn’t talk to you for 4 days. Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore and just sat on his couch pouting at him until he spoke to you again.

“Something could’ve happened,” he’d muttered, explaining to you why he got mad in the first place. “And I’m your best friend, and you should know me enough to know that I would much rather you wake me up than you walk home alone.”

You did know that, and he was your best friend, and you’d promised him you’d never do it again.

It’s only that promise, that causes you to reach for your phone.

“I’m texting him, but if he’s busy, I’m walking,” you tell Fiona stubbornly. She ignores you, which is probably fair enough.

Hey, you busy right now? Are the guys still there?

The answer comes right away. What’s wrong?

Damn, he knows you too well. You quickly explain the situation and before you know it, Elias is on his way to come get you, and Fiona is bidding you goodbye after you promise her you’re fine on your own for the twenty minutes it’s gonna take Elias to get there.

You’re just checking your email on your phone when you hear the bell at the front door.

“I’m coming!” you call out. You hurry to grab your bags and then walk quickly to the door, where Elias is standing with his car keys between his fingers.

“So Bella finally gave up, huh?” he asks, a sly little smirk on his face. He always teases you with the fact that you named your car.

“Yes, and I know you told me,” you sigh, and it’s clear that he immediately – and correctly – reads your mood.

Without a word, he opens his arms, and you gratefully fall into them, hugging him tightly to your body. There’s very little in the world that brings you more comfort than one of Elias’ hugs: although being on Elias’ couch wearing one of his old hoodies watching some stupid reality show might come close.

“Let’s go home,” Elias finally mumbles, and he holds out an umbrella when he lets you go.

It’s raining really hard, and you know he has to park his car a little bit away because there’s no parking in front of your office, so you take it.

“You could’ve just called, I would’ve ran out,” you tell him sternly, but he shrugs.

“But then how would you have gotten the umbrella?”

You would tell him you’re not made of sugar, but as soon as you step outside the rain clatters loudly against the fabric of the umbrella and you realize you would’ve really, really hated to not have it, so you stay quiet.

Instead, you walk after him as he runs to his car and opens the passenger door for you. It’s still running, and the heater is on: only then do you realize you’re quite cold.

This morning they said it would be nice outside, so you didn’t bother to take a coat.

It’s quiet in the car for a while, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s the silence that only comes when two people understand each other, and combined with the soft music that is playing on the radio it lulls you into a false sense of comfort.

Until you realize something.

“Oh God,” you groan, “I’m gonna have to call someone to tow Bella to a mechanic.”

Elias raises an eyebrow. “Well, you could just leave her there.”

Normally you would’ve at least playfully punched his arm for the sarcastic tone in his voice, but right now you’re too busy freaking out.

“And how am I gonna get to work tomorrow? Don’t you dare say you’ll bring me cause I know you’ve got morning practice and it’s super out of your way. Fuck, why did this have to happen to me?”

You let your head fall against the window. The glass is cold against your cheek and it’s enough to stop the spiraling in your brain at least for a second.

“Hey.” Elias’ voice has lost all sarcastic edge. It’s gentle now, and he’s speaking low as if not to startle you. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll call the tow truck and the mechanic and get your car fixed. And Brock lives close enough that he can take me to and from practice and you can just take my car to work.”

It’s… a reasonable solution, but once again something that Elias has to go out of his way for, even just a little bit, and you feel something warm bloom inside your chest.

“Okay,” you answer, the stress already ebbing away. “Thank you. You’re the best.” You reach out and place your hand on his knee, squeezing slightly. “Seriously. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Elias mumbles something incoherent. You think you see some color on his cheeks, but surely that’s just because the heater is on, because there’s no way he’s blushing over something you said.

You turn off the heater, and let your thoughts wander as Elias drives you home.

Traveling is fun, but traveling for work is instantly a lot less fun. You really don’t know how Elias does it.

You’re feeling run down and jetlagged when you come back from your work trip, which is ridiculous cause you flew to Toronto, not to freaking Europe. But it’s late at night and the three days you were away were so busy you can barely remember sleeping at all.

Fiona slept on the plane, so she looks a little more alive than you when your feet touch the ground at Vancouver airport.

“Is Elias coming to pick you up?” Fiona asks, as you’re both walking through the gate.

You shake your head. “I’m sure he would’ve insisted if he could, but he’s in California right now. They played the Kings tonight and they’re playing the Sharks the day after tomorrow.”

“I wish I was in California,” Fiona says wistfully. It’s cold and wet in Vancouver and it wasn’t much better in Toronto. The tiredness doesn’t help: it feels as if the cold of the night is slowly creeping into your bones.

“Come on then, I’ll drop you off.” You thank Fiona and follow her to her car. Normally you wouldn’t have minded taking an Uber, but right now you just wanna get to bed as soon as possible.

“If I fall asleep, just let me sleep here,” you mumble, resting your head back against the head rest. Fiona laughs as she starts the car.

“No way, you’ll freeze to death.” She squints outside. “Do you think it’s gonna rain?”

“It always rains,” you say, despite the fact that it’s not raining at the moment.

Fiona turns onto the highway. “So, are you finally gonna put up that bookcase you bought?”

Involuntarily, you groan. “Stop, don’t remind me.”

Your old bookcase is big and ugly, and it has been a thorn in your eye ever since you moved in. The person that lived there before you left it there, and you only kept it because you couldn’t really afford not to.

Four weeks ago, you finally allowed yourself to buy a new, prettier bookcase.

But…

“It’s just so big,” you whine, repeating the excuses you’ve been giving Elias every single time he raises a judgmental eyebrow at the old bookcase still standing in your living room. “It’s gonna take forever to take it apart and then it’s gonna take me even longer to somehow get it all downstairs and get rid of it.”

“And then you have to build the new one,” Fiona nods understandingly. “And you’re not good with furniture.”

“Hey,” you protest, but it’s weak. You’re not good with furniture, which was proven when you tried to help Fiona move in and didn’t manage to help her put together anything at all. Instead she ended up with a table with three legs.

You even tried to read the manual, but it’s just not your forte.

“I’ll do it,” you add, “I promise you I will. Just, maybe not this weekend…”

Fiona laughs, but she doesn’t call you out on the fact that it probably won’t happen during the week either.

Finally, you arrive at your building. You can’t wait to go to bed, and you thank Fiona multiple times before dragging your luggage upstairs. When you open the door to your apartment, Puck comes running up to you, meowing and weaving between your legs.

“Don’t be dramatic,” you tell the cat sternly. “Petey sent me many pictures of you sleeping in his lap and I know he feeds you chicken when he thinks I won’t notice, so you got spoiled this week.”

You lovingly scratch Puck’s ears, before flicking on the light and kicking the door behind you in the lock.

Instantly, you notice the difference.

Your apartment isn’t big: real estate in Vancouver isn’t cheap and your job isn’t great. You got this place mostly for the location, and you like the big windows in the apartment and how it manages to get in light even during the darkest of winter days.

One corner of your living room, however, was always darker than the others. The bookcase took away the entirety of the white wall, and it created a dim lit, sad looking corner.

Now, it’s open and bright, as your new bookcase stands proudly in its place.

There’s only one person who would’ve done that.

The phone rings a few times, but you know the Kings game ended a while ago so you let it ring. After a while, Elias picks up.

“Sorry for the background noise,” is the first thing he says. “We’re on the plane. Taking off in a few minutes, probably.”

In the background, you hear some yelling. Probably Jake.

“You put up my bookcase,” you blurt out, ignoring Elias’ statement. “You put it up and all the books are in it and the other one is gone.”

Elias sounds a little smug when he answers. “Well, it’s not like you were ever gonna do it.”

“Thank you.” To your own horror, you can feel tears burning behind your eyes. “Elias, seriously…”

“It’s nothing.” You can hear Elias’ smile even over the phone: you know everyone always makes fun of his deadpan tone when he talks to media but with his friends, his voice always betrays everything he’s feeling. “I know you were worried about it, and I know how much you hated that old one.” He laughs. “I get why now, by the way. It took me and Brock like four hours to get that thing out.”

“Brock helped too?”

“He did.” Elias is silent for a while, but in the background you hear another voice. “Brock says to tell you that I forced him. But that’s not entirely true.”

Entirely. You know Elias definitely did force him.

“Tell him thank you too.”

“He says you’re welcome,” Elias says, quick enough that it makes you think Brock didn’t say that at all. “We’re about to take off so I have to put my phone on airplane mode. But call me tomorrow okay? I wanna hear about your work trip.”

“Okay.” For some reason, you can still feel the lump in your throat. You didn’t notice it momentarily, while you were focused on Elias’ and Brock’s bickering, but now it’s back, and with a vengeance.

Fuck. You just…

“I miss you.” You blurt it out before you can stop yourself and if anyone would ask, you would blame the exhaustion and the fact that Elias can’t see how wet your eyes are over the phone.

“I’ll be back soon,” he answers softly, and his voice is gentle in a way that makes you think he knows about the tears, anyway. “And when I am, we’re gonna take a whole night to eat food and stare at that bookcase, because it needs to be appreciated after the effort I had to put in to build it.”

You laugh before quietly saying goodbye to Elias and hanging up the phone.

In the kitchen, Puck sits in front of the fridge. When you open it there’s a pan with chicken.

For Puck the note next to it says, and you send Elias a picture of Puck with his chicken.

“He spoils you,” you tell your cat. You decide to ignore the fact that he kinda spoils you, too.

When you open the door to your apartment, you’re met with the smell of garlic.

After yet another shitty day at work, you can already feel the lump in your throat building again. You didn’t even tell him, this time. In fact, you carefully avoided his texts because you knew he’d clock that something was wrong.

Fuck. That’s probably where you went wrong in the first place; usually you never ignored Elias’ texts.

“Hello?” you call out into your own apartment.

There’s soft music playing and there’s light coming from the living room, but the amazing smell that tickles your senses is clearly coming from the kitchen, so that’s where you go.

Elias is standing at your kitchen counter, chopping a carrot.

“Hey,” he greets, smiling your way. “I’m making dinner.”

It’s almost too much, how domestic it looks. And how right: like he belongs there in your space, waiting for you to come home.

Suddenly there’s the overwhelming urge to go towards him, so you do. His arm immediately lifts, creating space for you in the crook of his body, and you slip under his arm easily.

“How did you know?” you mumble into the fabric of his worn Canucks hoodie. It smells like him, a scent that reminds you of home as much as your mother’s signature dish.

“You didn’t answer my texts,” Elias hums. His arm tightens around your body. “So I figured you could use some good food and a bath.” His head motions towards the general direction of the bathroom. “I’m running it as we speak.”

God. You love him.

It hits you, then. You knew you had a crush on him, knew you wanted to kiss him and hold his hand and feel his hands on you. But it’s more than that, now.

It’s the realization that you want to share everything with him. The ups and the downs. The bad nights and the bright mornings. You want him in your kitchen, but more than that, you want it to be his kitchen, too.

Fuck. You’re so royally screwed.

Because he does this, and he does so much for you, but he’s never said anything, anything at all, to indicate that he wants that. Or has even considered it, thought about it.

Maybe it’s never even crossed his mind. Maybe he takes care of you like he would take care of a sister.

“Hey.” Elias’ voice is gentle as it pulls you out of your thoughts, back down to earth. “You’re shaking. Go take a bath, and I’ll finish dinner, and then we’ll watch How I Met Your Mother. I wanted to watch the next episode but I waited for you.” His grin is a little lopsided. “Isn’t that chivalrous of me?”

It is, and normally you would tease him for it, but you can’t really think or speak, so you just nod.

“There’s wine in the fridge, if you want a glass,” Elias says. He holds out a wine glass, already waiting for you on the counter.

And who cares that it’s only a Tuesday: you deserve it, damn it, so you open the fridge to find the wine.

You’re met with more than just that.

“You bought groceries?” you ask, your eyes traveling through your fridge. You hadn’t gone grocery shopping in like a week, and when you left for work this morning the fridge was basically empty. Now it’s so full you wonder how you’re gonna close the door.

“How else was I gonna cook anything? You only had cat food left,” Elias tuts. You’re not surprised to find Puck at Elias’ feet, waiting for him to inevitably slip him some human food.

“Did you get…”

“Your coconut yoghurt? Yes.”

He did, and he got basically all your staples, and nothing you wouldn’t buy yourself.

“Honestly,” you say, as you finally reach for the bottle and pull your head out of the fridge. “I don’t know what to say, Petey. Thank you. I had such a sucky day and now it’s already endlessly better.”

This time you know you’re not imagining the flush on Elias’ cheeks.

“It’s fine,” he says. “You should go take that bath before it goes cold.”

You want to say more: to tell him time and time again how amazing he is, how much he means to you, how thankful you are. But you know once you start, you can’t be trusted to not say the one thing you don’t think he wants to hear.

So you say nothing, and simply go to take your bath.

But you think about it.

You think about it all throughout Christmas, where you don’t see Elias at all. You think about it during NYE, when you get a drunk SnapChat from Elias with his brother, right at midnight.

At least, you figure, he’s not kissing any girls.

You’re not kissing any boys, either. You’re at a NYE party with Fiona and it’s fun, it is, but it’s not the same as it would be if Elias wasn’t all the way in Sweden.

You miss him like a limb, and you know it’s not fair because he rarely gets time to go home to Sweden and he deserves that time with his family, but you can’t say you didn’t wish his time off ended already.

When it finally does, it’s not Elias you see first. Troy is throwing a late New Years party, just to welcome everyone back to Vancouver as they get ready to start the season back up, and when you arrive at his house it’s early enough in the evening that there’s only a handful of people there.

“Y/N!” Brock calls out, opening his arms to give you a big hug as you enter. “Missed you!”

You laugh. “Get off of me, you giant. I’m gonna drop the wine.”

“Not the wine,” Troy says dramatically, tearing it out of your hands. His eyes are sparkling when he thanks and hugs you, and then Brock is ushering you into the living room, where Jake is talking with Quinn.

Or talking at Quinn. To be honest, you never really know when Quinn is paying attention.

“Y/N!” Jake exclaims, much like Brock had. “I’m glad you’re here, we need your input on something.”

“Okay?” you ask, curiosity instantly taking over. Whenever Jake and Brock get together, it promises to be an interesting evening.

“We’re trying to decide Brock’s love language.”

It’s sudden enough that you laugh. “His what?”

“Love language,” Jake explains. “Like, how he shows people he loves them. He says it’s quality time, but I think it could be physical touch. He’s always touching people.”

“Jake is deflecting because his love language is physical touch,” Brock scowls. “I think I know my own love language, Tuna.”

“Hold on.” Unfortunately, you have to press the pause button on their discussion. “What options do we have?”

You’ve got no idea where they got this from, but it doesn’t really matter. You’re always down to share your opinion on stupid stuff with your favorite boys.

“There’s gifts, quality time, physical touch, words of affirmation, and…” Brock pauses, and you can nearly see the wheels in his head turning.

“Acts of service,” Quinn offers, which proves that he was actually paying attention.

“Mine is physical touch,” Jake says determinedly. “When I care about someone, I always wanna be touching them, and when I’m in love with someone that’s like twenty times worse.”

“Poor girl,” Quinn mutters, and the conversation gets paused in order for Jake to put Quinn in a headlock.

“I think yours is quality time, actually,” you tell Brock when Jake is done murdering the rookie. “Your ex was always on her phone during your date nights and I remember it drove you crazy.”

“See,” Brock says proudly. “Quality time baby. If I’m there I’m there.”

“What about yours, Huggy?” Jake asks. “Physical touch would make sense, since you’re called Huggy.”

“I’m not called Huggy,” Quinn deadpans. His face is devoid of any emotion, but you know him well enough to recognize the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He reminds you of Elias, when he does that. “And if we were going by nicknames your love language would be fishing.”

Everyone cracks up on that, and then the doorbell rings and Bo arrives.

The topic gets put on hold, then, because Bo is instantly talking about Gunnar’s first Christmas and Brock is talking about becoming an uncle again and you feel warm and happy on the couch with your wine, squeezed between Brock and Troy.

Until, a little later, you realize someone is missing.

“Where’s Petey?” you ask Troy. “Isn’t he coming?”

Troy shrugs. “Should do. But you never know with Pete.”

It’s not entirely true: if Elias promises he’ll be there, he will be there. But, to be fair, he usually doesn’t promise that to anyone but you, and you hadn’t asked him to come, this time.

You figured he just would.

“What about Petey’s love language?” Brock asks idly, not knowing he’s opening Pandora’s box for you. “Definitely not words of affirmation, huh.”

Troy laughs.

“Nah, Petey’s an acts of service guy. He’s always doing shit for Y/N.”

You would protest if you trusted your voice not to shake. As it is, you stay quiet and hope the flush on your cheeks gets mistaken for a wine flush, and not an Elias flush.

Brock brightens. “Oh, yeah! Getting her car fixed, making dinner, building her stupid bookshelf, feeding her cat… He is a typical acts of service guy.” He bumps against your shoulder playfully. “I hope you appreciate his showing of love, Y/N. He rarely does that shit for me.”

Troy snorts. “That’s cause he’s not in love with you, Boes.”

“He’s not in love with me either!” you squeak, unable to stay quiet any longer. You know if you don’t derail this trail of thought very soon, it’s gonna end badly for you.

Both Troy and Brock look unimpressed, at that statement.

“Yes, he is,” Brock says slowly, as if explaining something to an unruly child. “He drops whatever he has going on to do small things that make your life easier. That’s literally the same as him screaming I’m in love with you from the highest rooftop in Vancouver.”

“He’s not like you,” Troy continues, a little more gentle. “When people have different love languages, they don’t always understand what the other is trying to say. Your love language is words of affirmation. You’re always telling Petey how amazing he is. But he doesn’t see that as a declaration of love, or whatever. He thinks you tell everyone that they’re amazing.”

You do, to be fair, but not as often as you tell Elias. Because he’s…

Well. Amazing would be an understatement, actually. He’s everything to you.

Things are starting to make sense, like puzzle pieces fitting into place. Suddenly, you start wondering if there’s more to his acts of service than plain friendship, or him being a good guy.

It’s not like he does stuff like that for all his friends. He helps them out, sure, but he always goes above and beyond for you, usually not even needing to be asked.

But he’s not in love with you, surely? He hasn’t said anything…

But maybe words aren’t his thing. Not like they are yours: the way you can’t stop yourself from gushing into Elias’ ear even when you know you should stop.

What if Brock and Troy are right?

You don’t get much time to think it through, because that’s when Elias finally appears in Troy’s living room, looking endlessly cool in his blue sweater, wearing his glasses. He’s sending death glares at Jake, who wolf whistles from the corner, but then his eyes meet yours and they soften.

“Hi there,” he smiles, reaching out to you. You immediately jump up and launch yourself at him, any previous conversation about the two of you momentarily forgotten as you curl your body into his, his arms tightening around your waist.

“Missed you,” you hum into his shoulder, and you’re rewarded with a grin you can feel against the skin of your neck.

“Are you sure hers isn’t physical touch?” you hear Brock ponder, and you would flip him off if you could be bothered.

You can’t. All you can be bothered doing is plastering yourself to Elias’ side and not leaving him alone even for a second, the rest of the night.

It works at least for a while, until he asks: “Do you want another drink?”

“I’ll go with you,” you say, not willing to part with him yet, and you ignore the knowing look Brock shoots you as the two of you find your way to the kitchen.

Elias immediately goes for the wine, because he knows you better than anyone else.

“I asked my dad about the job,” Elias mentions casually, as if it’s not a big deal at all. “He thinks he can get you an interview.”

“Wait, what?”

Suddenly your heart is ticking in your throat. Before he left for Sweden, Elias had mentioned that his dad knows a guy who works for a similar company as you’re working for now: apart from the shitty boss you have or the ridiculous low salary you get paid. It’s your job, but better, and Elias promised you he’d get his dad to ask if there were any open positions.

There were. And you sent in your application not thinking there was gonna come much from it, but now…

Something warm washes through your chest, like your heart grew three sizes. Of course he asked, of course he made it happen. Looking out for you, always and at any time, from any distance.

“It’s not a done deal,” Elias warns, oblivious to your mental breakdown. “But he said he thinks they’ll like you and he’ll put in a good word for you.”

You squeal and throw yourself in his direction once again. Elias laughs as he catches you, fingers curling in your hair where your face is pressed against his chest.

“Thank you,” you mumble.

“It’s about time you get rid of that dumb job.” You can hear the frown in Elias’ voice. “They don’t take good care of you at all, it’s not good for you.” The distaste is obvious and it’s adorable. You pull away.

“I don’t need them to,” you say, carefully. You can still hear Brock’s words in your voice, and you figure it’s worth a try, probably. “Because you’re always there to take care of me.”

Elias’ cheeks darken substantially.

“I mean it when I say I don’t know what I’d do without you, Elias.”

“You’d be fine,” Elias waves away the compliment as you figured he would. But this time you’re not backing down.

“Maybe I would be. But I wouldn’t be as happy.”

They say when you really love a person, you’ve got to show them. But you’ve never really known how to do that, instead you always use your words to tell them. But it seems like Elias isn’t believing you, not even now.

And you’ve got to fix that.

It’s not until you’re in Elias’ car on the way back home that you bring it up again. The party wasn’t really the time and place, but the conversation with Brock and the guys has been nagging in the back of your mind since it happened.

If you didn’t realize Elias’ acts of service meant something, maybe he doesn’t realize your words of affirmation mean something. And even if it doesn’t mean he’s in love with you – you’re really not that sure about that – you need him to at least know how much you appreciate him.

“You know I’m always there for you, right?” you start, carefully breaking the silence in the car. Elias shoots you a glance from behind the steering wheel.

“What?”

“Like, even if I’m maybe not as good as you are at realizing what you need me to do, if there’s ever anything I can do to help make your life a little easier or better I wanna do it. I’d do anything for you.”

It’s too honest, probably, and too much all at the same time. But Elias doesn’t look that surprised. In fact, there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You make my life better by just being you, Y/N. You don’t have to do anything for me.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you wonder how you’re gonna get through this conversation. But it’s one that needs to be held, so you press on.

“What is your love language, Elias?”

Now he frowns. “Have you been talking to Brock?”

Of course Brock talked to Elias before he talked to you. The traitor.

You decide to ignore that, for now. You’ll talk to Brock later.

“You know my love language is words of affirmation, right?”

Elias shrugs. “Brock did say that, but I didn’t know what you thought it was.”

“And yours is acts of service,” you hazard a guess. You keep your eyes firmly on Elias’ face, which is the only reason you catch the slight change in his expression.

Like a wall, crossing over his features. He’s trying to protect himself, although you have no idea why. Does he not get where you’re going with this?

“I can tune it down if you want me to,” he says, a little grumpily. He’s staring straight ahead at the road, stubbornly refusing to look your way.

And oh God, he’s truly not getting it, and this is going the exact opposite way you want it to go.

Troy did say that when people’s love languages don’t match, they don’t understand what the other is trying to say. But you honestly don’t know how you can make it any more clear to Elias.

Well, except…

“I love you,” you blurt out. “Like, in love with you love you.”

The words ring loudly in the quiet car. For a second, nothing about Elias’ expression, almost like he didn’t hear you. You can almost feel your heart sink into your stomach.

Then, he pulls over the car.

It comes to a stop at the side of the road, two wheels on the pavement and two still on the road. It is, objectively, not super safe, but it’s also 3am and there’s no other cars to be seen. Very carefully, without looking at you still, Elias turns on the hazard lights.

And then finally, finally, he turns to you and kisses you.

You weren’t expecting it but it doesn’t really matter: it’s like your heart and head both light on fire, and everything outside of the car simply disappears. It’s just you and Elias, and his lips on yours and his hands on your body.

It feels right. Like it was always meant to end up like this.

After what feels like ages, he pulls away. He’s smiling, and his eyes are bright blue in the dark car.

“I thought you said those kinda things to everyone,” he admits, quietly. His thumb is rubbing your side, his eyes fixed on that spot. Almost as if he can’t really believe he’s allowed to do that.

You don’t want him to ever do anything else.

“I thought you did those kinda things for everyone,” you shoot back.

Elias raises one eyebrow. “That bookcase weighed at least 300 pounds.”

You can’t help it: giggles are escaping your lips and suddenly you’re both laughing. The tension in the car dissipates instantly, and suddenly it’s just Elias again, your best friend.

Your best friend that you’re now allowed to kiss. So you lean in and press your lips against his again.

After all, kissing is a love language you think everyone understands.

(+2)

“I’m home!” Elias’ voice sounds through the empty apartment, and you immediately leave your spot behind the kitchen counter to run into the hallway.

With a squeal, you fly towards him, and he catches you easily as you knew he would.

“Hey, babe,” he laughs quietly, pressing a kiss into your hair before returning the hug fully. “Is that my sweater?”

“Maybe,” you admit, as Elias’ hands make their way under his own blue sweater, that you definitely steal from him most evenings. “Missed you. And I’m very proud of you.”

“I missed you too,” he answers. “Watched the game?”

“Obviously.” You roll your eyes, even though you know he can’t see it with your face still buried in his shoulder. “A hat trick, huh? I think that needs to be celebrated.”

“Oh?” Elias pulls away then, one eyebrow raised and a cheeky twinkle in his eyes.

“Not like that,” you scold him, lightly punching his arm. “Or, maybe like that. But first, I made Kalops.”

At the mention of his favorite Swedish food, Elias’ face lights up. A while ago, you asked his mom for her recipe and it’s one of the only Swedish dishes you can make, but you make it well.

“Also,” you continue, as you take his hand and start leading him towards the kitchen, so he can sit at the counter while you cook as he always does, “I called the electrician so the TV is already fixed. I know you could have done it, but I decided I’d much rather use that time to hang out with you. I took Puck to get his shots at the vet and I also used my free afternoon to take your car through the car wash.”

When you reach the kitchen, you twirl around towards Elias and his arms immediately circle around your waist.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” he mutters, taking the opportunity to kiss you once more. “But thank you. I love that you took the time to take care of that for me. And I love you.”

“Look at us,” you tease, lightly tugging at the ends of Elias’ hair. “Speaking each other’s love language like that.”

“Perfect couple,” Elias agrees, and you smile back at him.

Somehow, you and Elias managed to create a language of your own: one that you could speak with nobody else. But luckily, you don’t have to.

Cause he came home to your shared apartment like he always does, and well. That’s the biggest act of service he could do for you.

#elias pettersson #vancouver canucks #nhl fic #elias pettersson fic #elias petterson one shot #elias pettersson imagine #nhl writing

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animereaderinsertwriter · 3 years

Text

Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part III

Part I

Part II

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

After that night, it became increasingly hard for (Y/N) to leave, and for Eren to let her do so.

Something between them had changed. There were moments— when Eren would press feather-light kisses against her forehead, when he would casually leave a cup of her favorite tea where she would find it— where (Y/N) felt as though her heart might burst. It was all the little things that baffled her, all the ways in which he seemed to understand exactly how she felt; it was as though he knew her more than she knew herself. On the mornings that she would wake in his bed, sleepy and sticky and wholly content, (Y/N) wondered what it would be like to have this life forever.

Other days— on days like today— she was reminded exactly why that could never be, and it broke her heart.

Today, they had planned a romantic dinner in the park, an evening under the stars. It was supposed to be something special, a little getaway just for the two of them; they had wanted to leave as soon as (Y/N) was relieved from her patrol, so Eren had moved her things to his place, hoping that they could leave together from there for their evening alone.

In and of itself, that was fine… but when (Y/N) came in, covered head-to-toe in viscous Creature blood, Eren was furious.

“And you call me a monster,” he growled, looking her up and down with hate in his eyes. “I can’t believe you.”

He stood from his seat on the sofa, and (Y/N) began to back away, still wary from the fight she had narrowly escaped from unscathed. Her every instinct told her that she should run, fire a round of silver bullets into his chest, but she steeled herself, doing neither.

“It’s not my fault— they were attacking a civilian,” she told him as he stalked towards her, his face twisted into a horrific scowl. “I tried to stop them— tried to find out what was going on— but then they came at me with their claws, and I was left with no choice.”

“There is always a choice,” he snarled, and it was then that anger filled (Y/N) from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head. "They were probably terrified of you— how could you possibly blame them for lashing out?"

(Y/N) grit her teeth.

“This, from the man who thought genocide was his only option to the same problem?”

Eren made a low, warning sound in the back of his throat, but (Y/N) pressed on.

“You would rather me have died?” she demanded, stepping into his space. “Would it have pleased you more for my body to bleed out on the pavement, ripped to shreds by an aggressive werewolf? Would you even care, or would you just find the next blood bag and move on with your life?”

“Maybe so,” he shot back, “Then I wouldn’t have to deal with your insufferable mouth.”

That stung— but if there was one thing (Y/N) knew how to do, it was to strike back twice as hard as she had been struck.

“Fine then,” she said, turning on her heel. “I won’t bother you any longer. I’ll go out and find someone who actually wants my company, someone who’ll fuck me good and proper over the counter at some hole-in-the-wall bar over on Easy Street, someone younger, with a nicer cock and less fucking baggage— ”

She didn’t get to finish the sentence, or even walk a single step further— Eren grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to him, his fist painfully tight against her scalp.

“Wanna say that again, to my face?” he asked, tilting her head back.

“I’ll go find someone else to fuck me,” she spat, struggling in vain against him. “I’ll spread my legs for the next available schmuck in the closest bar I can find, so you can hear me scream his name and not yours.”

It was a low blow, to threaten a vampire’s claim on something they had previously assumed had belonged to them, but (Y/N) didn’t care. She had almost died today, and she’d be damned if she was going to take shit from anyone about what she had to do to survive. If Eren wanted a fight, she would damn sure give him one.

“Like hell you will,” he told her, pulling her head back so that she had to strain to remain standing. “You’re mine. Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood— you are my Companion.”

"I belong to no one!"

Those words ripped from her throat and echoed throughout the empty house, and it was then that Eren stopped, looking at her with calculation in his gaze.

"You're right," he said, releasing her hair. "No mortal can serve two masters, lest they love one and despise the other; an archaic religious concept, but an accurate one nonetheless. You've made it abundantly clear where your loyalty lies. I was a fool for thinking otherwise."

(Y/N) began to tremble. "Eren, what are you saying?"

"I release you from our pact," he replied coldly, his eyes so dull and lifeless that it sent a chill down her spine. "No longer are you bound to be my wine-press— I free you from me."

"Eren—"

"Go," he commanded, and (Y/N) felt terribly, horribly empty.

Once, he would have told her to come freely, go safely, and leave something of the happiness she brought him; now, he gave her a cold dismissal, and it frightened her more than she was willing to admit. Still, she went, feeling hollow and used, and she didn't bother to shut the door behind her as she turned to walk home, weary from the day and sick from fighting.

***

Armin had lived for a very long time, but even so, he had yet to meet anyone so foul of temper as Eren when the Hunger was on him.

"Eren, you have to feed."

The vampire, as ill in health as in temper, glared weakly at him. "I'm not hungry."

"But you are Hungry, and don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. Look, if this is about that girl—"

"I told you not to speak of her!"

Ah, so it was about her. By the looks of him, it had been two weeks since Eren had fed; Armin would bet that he hadn't seen her in the same amount of time.

"If I need to, I'll drag her here to make up with you myself," said Armin testily, "I refuse to watch my best friend starve himself because he refuses to feed on anyone else."

"You will not touch her."

Armin rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything further. He just patted Eren's arm in farewell and set about finding the little lady who was the root cause of his current consternation.

It took longer than Armin had anticipated to find the young woman who had, for all intents and purposes, completely unraveled Eren's composure; her scent, while thick and memorable in Eren's apartment, was hard to track otherwise. Armin spent two hours just wandering the city while trying to catch a breath of it here or there, and when he finally did manage to catch a whiff of her scent and follow it to her, he understood exactly why it had been so hard to track her down.

The girl was a Hunter, of all things.

When Armin found her, she was knee-deep in sewage, her knife embedded to the hilt in the skull of what appeared to be some species of winged reptile. Armin, having been a tad desperate and not actually having been expecting to find anything when he lifted the lid to the man-hole on 32nd and Main, was surprised to say the least— and when (Y/N) ripped her knife free and readjusted her stance into a defensive one directed at him, his surprise turned to intrigue.

“Er, hello there,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t suppose you’ll take my word for it that I just want to chat, will you?”

Curiously, the words gave the woman pause. She relaxed her stance ever-so-slightly, and then her eyes lit up with recognition.

“Armin Arlert?” she queried, craning her neck up to see him. “Is that you?”

This one grows curiouser and curiouser, he thought, but responded affirmatively.

“Can you give me a bit, then?” she asked, kicking the corpse of the Creature she’d just killed. “I’m not exactly fit for company. Perhaps we could meet later for a discussion over tea?”

“I’m afraid it’s urgent,” he said as she knelt to decapitate her prey— likely for proof of victory. “I think you know why I’m here, so you understand that time is of the essence.”

She didn’t look up at him as she replied.

“If this is about Eren, then I don’t have time to talk.”

Her tone was hard, bitter, and matter-of-fact, and it reminded Armin so much of Jean that it hurt… but just like Jean, Armin would bet that she could be won over by appealing to her inherent sense of human decency

“He’s suffering (Y/N),” he said, awkwardly crouching above the manhole so that she could better see the truth written in his eyes. “He won’t feed.”

“That’s hardly my problem.”

And oh, how well Armin knew that state of mind. If there was one thing Eren Jaeger knew how to do, it was push away the people who loved him most. Armin had dealt with that particularly lovely quirk of his for centuries, and it never got easier to deal with no matter how much time passed. If anything, it got more difficult the older they both got.

“When you’re the solution to a problem, you become a part of it whether you like it or not,” Armin replied, patient and understanding. “He cares for you.”

(Y/N) looked up at him then, fury in her eyes.

“He hurt me.”

Armin shrugged. “He hurts everyone he cares about. It’s just who he is. Nothing comes for free— least of all the love and loyalty of someone as old and as powerful as Eren.”

“Your heart may be toughened to his meanness,” she told him, the head of the creature she’d slain in her hands, “But mine is not, and I don’t like him well enough to willfully remain for him to use as an emotional punching bag.”

At that, Armin couldn’t help but let loose a wry grin.

“No,” he said, “I should think not; but I do think you love him well enough to make sure he doesn’t starve himself to death because he can’t have you.”

(Y/N) was silent for a long moment, then she crossed her arms.

“I won’t come crawling to him. He’s going to have to come to me.”

Armin grimaced. He wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.

“Is that at all negotiable?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

Well, there was nothing for it.

“And you will let him feed if he comes to you?”

(Y/N) thought, then nodded. “If he proves himself deserving.”

Armin couldn't help himself; he laughed. Eren might have met his match in this one.

"Very well. I'll work my magic, and you work yours."

She nodded and bade him farewell, but before Armin left, he paused.

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

With that, he left her, ready to take Eren by the ear and throw him at her if he had to.

***

(Y/N)'s heart was racing as she opened the door, knowing good and well who would be behind it.

After her little talk with Armin— and the near heart attack he had given her in the process— she had called in to Zeke and told him she needed to go home to deal with an emergency. A replacement for her patrols had been sent, and she had come home to wash the grim from her skin, making herself as presentable as possible with the time she had. (Y/N) was worried, so worried, that the filth she had been wading in earlier would have left a lingering stench, or even that it had affected the taste of her; she had scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin was raw, hoping to erase every last remnant of her day from her skin…but as it turned out, she needn't have bothered.

Two, three, four hours later, and Eren hadn't shown— it was only now, right at the six hour mark, that he had decided to come to her.

Needless to say, (Y/N) was… less than pleased, but when she opened the door to find Eren pale and drawn, with dark circles beneath his eyes, her heart softened ever-so-slightly. It seemed that Armin was right; he had been suffering.

"You look like shit," she told him quietly, opening her door widely to let him in.

"I assure you, I feel worse," Eren grumbled, but stepped in as she closed the door behind him.

For a long, awkward moment, they just looked at each other, silent and unsure. It was unsettling how unlike himself Eren seemed; he was almost soft when he looked at her, and (Y/N) didn't know how to feel about it. Eventually, though, like two opposite ends of a magnet, they were drawn together, and Eren brushed a piece of hair back from her face.

"Hi," he said, his voice low and rough. (Y/N) caught his hand in hers before it could fall from her hair, and she pressed it against her chest, keeping it trapped there, touching the skin above her beating heart.

"Hey."

They watched each other a moment more before the dam broke between them, and they both spoke at once.

"I'm sorry."

A shared grin, a shy laugh— and then (Y/N) said what they both were thinking.

"You need to feed first, and talk later," she told him, her hand still clasped in his. "You're not off the hook, but I doubt we can have any real conversation with you like this."

Eren nodded gratefully, tugging at her wrist— his usual biting spot— but (Y/N) shook her head, indicating her neck. The thickest, richest blood, she knew, would come from there; and if there was ever a time to be generous with the placement of Eren's bite, she figured that it would be now.

The worst of it was over quickly. There was a brief sting at the intrusion of razor-sharp fangs, and then the vaguely uncomfortable feeling of having something poking down into places that decidedly should not be poked at all, but then (Y/N) quickly eased into the rhythm of the act, focusing wholly on the way Eren's lips felt against her skin. In a few moments, she would become pleasantly light-headed, and then Eren would pull away and look at her like she'd hung the stars. Oh, how she'd missed that look! (Y/N) found herself longing for it even before she quite realized it.

And then, without warning, a vision came, and (Y/N) was swept into another world entirely.

The evening sky rolled endlessly out towards the horizon; it seemed to go on forever, sparkling with more stars than (Y/N) had ever seen before. The full moon was so bright that it cast the whole world in what seemed like silver sunlight, and (Y/N) wondered how anyone could sleep on a night such as this. It was far too beautiful an experience to miss.

Alongside her— alongside Eren, through whose eyes she saw the world— strode Armin and two older-looking cadets who she recognized from previous memories as Reiner and Berthold. Eren was feeling anxious over something, and Reiner and Berthold were… well, they were kind. Reiner especially seemed to be like an older brother, and Eren admired him.

"You'll do just fine tomorrow," said Reiner, placing a large, warm hand on Eren's shoulder. "I'm certain of it."

The memory ended, and (Y/N) came back to herself as Eren's tongue laved over the wounds his fangs had left in her neck, sealing them.

"See anything?" he asked, his breath warm against her skin, and (Y/N) nodded.

"You loved them, too," she said softly, remembering the fondness Eren had felt as though it had been her own. "You loved the Hunters that tried to take everything from you, and— and I think they loved you, too."

Eren pulled away from her, and it was then that she saw the tears shining in his eyes.

"Yes," he replied, his voice broken. "We were children. How could we not love each other as God intended? Hate was never in our nature; it was an inheritance that we couldn't escape."

He paused for a moment, then spoke again.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he told her, cupping her cheek in his hand. "I lost my temper. I forget— I forget that you're not them."

And (Y/N) understood. She understood that no matter how many centuries passed, there would be wounds that just wouldn't heal for Eren. He would lash out at things that wouldn't make sense to anyone who hadn't experienced the horrors of war as he had. Suddenly, she felt petty for having lashed out as she had, and guilt threatened to rise up and choke her.

"You're forgiven," she replied, leaning into his touch. "It takes two to tango— I shouldn't have baited you like I did. I knew how badly that would hurt you, and that's exactly why I said it."

At that, Eren cracked a grin.

"I expect nothing less from a Kirschtein. Your grandfather would have punched me square in the jaw— and as big as that bastard got when we were older, he probably would have put me on my ass."

(Y/N) couldn't help but laugh, and Eren joined her, their combined joy swelling until there was nothing else in the world but their happiness.

How they started kissing, neither one of them would be able to say afterwards, but in the grand scheme of things, it hardly mattered. Their love was too large to contain, too much to hold back— and it was love, (Y/N) realized, though she hadn't quite put words to it yet. She loved Eren Jaeger, a Creature, a monster, as much as her grandfather before her had and more. She loved him with a desperation that felt like being knocked over by an ocean wave and plunged into depths where her feet no longer touched the sand. She loved him more than she had ever loved anyone before.

And, as he placed her gently on her bed that was barely big enough for two, divesting himself of his shirt above her, (Y/N) thought that maybe she didn't mind it so much as long as he loved her in return.

"I missed you," said Eren, dropping kisses by her ear as he unhooked her bra. "I missed this."

"Me too," she gasped as his mouth wandered to her nipple, her hands fisting in his hair. "Oh, God, I missed you too."

The time for words was soon gone, however; Eren's sinful, sinful mouth traveled lower and lower until he was kissing at the insides of her thighs, parting them to access what lay between, and (Y/N) threw her head back as he spread her open with his hands and sucked brazenly at her clit.

How long he spent there, worshipping her sex, (Y/N) had no idea; all she knew was that she came once from his mouth on her and a second time from his fingers inside her, and when he finally, mercifully withdrew, she was broken down to the simplest parts of herself; there was nothing left but an affection so deep that it threatened to overtake her if she didn't let it out, and she did the only thing she knew to do to release the overwhelming pressure that was building in her chest as Eren pushed his big, veiny cock into her.

She told him what she should have said a long time ago.

"Oh, Eren," she gasped as his cockhead shoved deep inside her. "I love you."

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Eren went unnaturally still. He looked at her with pupils blown wide inside emerald eyes, and his fangs slightly distended; in any other situation, (Y/N) might have laughed at how surprised he seemed, but it seemed as though she were frozen in time, unable to do anything but stare earnestly up at them, hoping he understood how much she cared for him.

"You… what?"

"I love you," she repeated, her body moving without her permission to roll her hips up into him, moving his cock even further inside her. "Please, Eren, I need—"

He cut her off with a forceful, bruising kiss, and his hips started making slow, deep thrusts inside her, her legs hiked up over his shoulders.

"Again," he said against her lips."Say it again."

"I love you."

Another thrust or two, a hand circling her wounded throat.

"Again."

"I love you, Eren."

"Again."

This time, it was only a whisper.

"I love you," she said, and Eren began fucking her in earnest.

"You are so fucking beautiful," he told her as he thrust hard and deep inside her. "You're every man's dream, a nirvana the damned such as myself were never meant to reach. (Y/N), you are everything, and I—"

He seemed to choke on the words, and (Y/N) kissed him as he tried to regain his composure.

"I don't deserve you," he said, shaking with the force of their passion. "I don't deserve your love."

It's not about deserving, she wanted to say, It never was, but then she was coming again, her climax contracting her walls around her lover, and it was all she could do to remain conscious as Eren fucked her relentlessly through it all, chasing his own high.

It was only later, after a shower and something to eat that they finally spoke again. They were back in bed, and Eren's arm was wrapped around her, as though he were afraid to let her go for even a moment; truthfully, (Y/N) thought he was asleep, but then his breath tickled her ear as he said,

"I love you, angel."

And that, (Y/N) thought, had been worth it all, in the end.

#aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot #aot fanfiction #eren x reader #vampire!eren jaeger #aot smut

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oh-for-fic-sake · 4 years

Text

Dress Codes,Nooky And Cock Blocks

Masterlist

Henry tries to be a white knight and realizes Kal is to smart for his own good.

Request/Prompt: Henry and Kal meets you from work after having a bad day. Playing with Kal to make Henry jealous. Shutting kal out for some nooky but Kal sits outside the door barking and howling.

Warnings: Smutty Almost Smut! Fluff, Swearing

A/N: so this has combined two ideas one of which is from the lovely @being-worthy This was going to be a Pooh bear chapter two but hasn't quite fit the bill. Anyway I hope you all enjoy. P.S I 100% belive Kal would be a little shit!!!

Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters @thatgirly81 @angelofthorr @iloveyouyen @sofiebstar @thefangirlsblog @harrysthiccthighss @loserrlauraa @tumblrnewby @isitmine @tinabean37

This was a fucking piss take your manager was an asshole! You huffed about the office still trying to process the stupidity he just fucking spouted at you. You moved to the ladies room phone in hand ready to vent locking yourself in a stall fingers poised to rant in a long ass text message but you froze. Henry was home well at the gym to be more specific. He was over the moon having just snagged the role of Geralt of Rivia and had been working tirelessly on bulking up for the role especially now that he was getting the dates for shooting. You paused taking a deep breath. No. You cant vent to him and ruined his day to. You growled and moved leaving the bathroom slamming the door thankful that you only had another hour, at least the prick had the decency to wait until the end of the day.

You through your phone down into the bag sitting at your desk for a few moments. You cast your eyes over the computer screen seeing the little bimbo...His little bimbo Stacey there was an office romance between your asshat of a manager and this little blonde. She ran about the office in small tight skirts hair immaculate and thick makeup smeared across her face and fuck me glasses that were an accessory not prescription like yours. She had a snug fitted blouse and pencil skirt on flitting about the office in some dangerous looking heels. More feminine? Was you supposed to jump up and say 'yes sir of course Sir, anything to keep this job sir' then flutter your lashes at him?.

Fuck that, and fuck this be more feminine bullshit, there was no written dress code and as far as things had gone you were doing your job pretty damn well and you didn't need heels to do it!

You scowled seeing the blonde slip out followed by your manager it mus be time fore their discrete get away a make out in the copier room...How original. You sighed clicking your mouse scanning through the next lot of appointments...No more today but there was a shit tonne tomorrow. You sighed getting down...Was your job really on the line over skirts, makeup and heels? Sure you were on probation but they couldn't sack you for breaking a non existent dress code...Could they.honestly you wouldn't put it past Dave he seemed to have some fucked up traditional views.

Your attention was quickly drawn down to your phone buzzing you smiled seeing it was Henry quickly tapping the notification.

'Bbe you still at the office?? Miss you! 😘😘' You smiled softly heaving a deep breath then began typing.

'Yep still here not for long though finish in 1hr thank god 😘😘 u 2 at the gym still??' You sent the text and got a reply pretty quick you smiled he must have left the gym to reply so quick. Your thoughts wandered a daydream of the huge glorious man puffed out and sweaty ugh yes that's what you needed right now your man to just ruin you fuck the stress and doubt right out of you!. Your eyes scanned the new text he had sent pulljng you out of your raunchy thoughts.

'No just left walking Kal around the park he got a bit excited need to wear him out, so have a good day?'

'😂 good luck with that. And its been okay...G2g shopping after apparently I need to dress more feminine😒😒 so will be home late' You frowned hearing the two love birds enter the office again wrapped up around one another professionally you rolled your eyes as the blonde pulled away from your manager giggling and made her way to the computer opposite you instantly reaching for her compact mirror trying to correct the smeared lipstick across her face. Your phone pinged and you looked down face lighting up a little seeing the anger emojis. Henry felt the same ass you.

'😡😡🤬WTF? wats tht sppsd 2 mean?' you cringed maybe you should have just kept your mouth shut but it was too late now you sighed trying to placate him.

'I need to wear skirts and shit...be an office bimbo no big deal🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ just get a few skirts thts all' you typed back his reply was immediate almost as if he'd been typing the same time as you. Wincing you prepared yourself for the worse, Henry was a very protective man and you knew he hated the whole gender roles thing.

'😡😡You dnt need makeup and shit!! ur gorgeous dnt u listen to that wanker!! Can't u leave early?? Say ur going shopping?? Just get out of there! please love dnt let this get 2 u!!🥺🥺 I love u, ur perfect!!😍😘😘😍' You grinned got flushing rereading the words a warmth in your chest. You knew that he meant every word. Stacey looked over with a smirk snapping the compact shut and pointed a false nail in your direction.

"Oh? Is that a blush? Who are you texting? Someone cute?" You flicked your eyes up to her you didn't have anything against her per say but you were different people, she was all Instagram, kardashians and trending and you were all gaming, books and cosy pajamas. You never really spoke to her if you could help it.

"Err yeah...My boyfriend" you admitted looking down seeing another text from him. Another round of compliments and reassuring words lit up your screen.

'I mean it bbe I know u! dnt beat urself up over it! Dont u let him get 2 u!😘😘' you smiled softly yes he did know you and he knew this had not only made you angry but also insecure. You thought you looked good at work you always made a point to look 'put together' but it wasn't enough?

"Ooo was that him again? You never told me you had a boyfriend! Is he new? How long have you been together? What does he do? Whats he saying!?" You gulped as she got up quickly scuttling around the desk as fast as she could in her heels and skirt.

"We've been together a few years...He's just asking me to leave early and catch diner with him but I don't think Dave would like that..." Stacey's face lit up and she beamed at you. She was happy to have something else to gossip about.

"Oh! that’s so sweet~ he wants to steal you away for dinner! You know I wish Dave would do that but he only really pays attention to me at work....So does this sweet mystery man have a name?" You looked up at her tilting your phone away a little so she didn't see Henry's on going threats of 'coming down there and teaching Dave some manners by ripping his tongue out his ass' you shook your head as you caught the ass end of a long text full of emojis...You sort of regret teaching him the meanings of them....Was that an eggplant in the middle?.

"Henry...His name is Henry and he's an actor" Stacey squealed cupping her face completely excited for some reason.

"Oh that's so cute! You know its always you shy ones that nab yourselves the boho guys...You know I always wanted to date the 'boho' type myself but never did, they were all to....Just not my type I like clean cut guys, you know ones who fill out a suit" You squinted what the fuck was she getting at? You schooled your features standing taller quickly and made your own little dig.

"Like Dave?" she flushed and nodded excitedly missing the whole sarcastic droll over your words. She clapped her hands completely missing the fact you were poking fun at the scrawny 'stud' sleazeball who Henry could easily snap over his thigh if he wanted to.

"Yes just like my Dave~! Ugh anyway do you have a pic...Come ooon! Let me see your man~" you sighed tilting your head to her...She was pretty harmless...And dippy so it shouldn't do any harm she didn't strike you as the type of person to watch Henry's movies so shouldn't recognize him. You nodded sweetly it was actually a little fun you rarely got to show off your man, most people who knew him knew you were dating. You twisted the phone eying the screen and froze seeing the last texts he sent you whilst you spoke to Stacey.

'Have you got out early??🧐🧐'

'Babe don't ignore me!😤😤 Is he still there!?😡'

'Woman you better answer me! Stop ignoring me bbe it wont help😤😤'

'Im serious y/n do I need to chat with him? Do you want me to help?🧐🧐'

'Look out the window'

"Oh hell no!" you huffed out under your breath then stood up scrabbling to the large office window Stacey followed you alarmed. You freaked and quickly opened the window poking your head out to scream at your sweet but very dappy boyfriend. As irritated as the texts were he didn't look it, well until you really looked he was tense and it wasn't just because Kal was puling excitedly.

"Oh my god?! HENRY?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!....GET OUT OF THE GOD DAMNED ROAD!!" lone behold when you looked down you saw Henry standing there with a huge bouquet of Roses and a bag you suspected held a box of chocolates, Kal was barking up at you spinning in circles and jumping up super excited almost dragging the huge man over in all the excitement. It would seem the walk was not enough to wear out the bear. Henry grinned up at you you heard Stacey from beside you gasp.

"Holy shit is that your boyfriend??" you turned to her and smiled smugly to her nodding then glanced back down to him seeing him quickly navigate the people bustling around the car park heading for the doors. You froze. You can't let him up here he sounded angry earlier...He'd kill Dave. You ran back to your desk quickly logging off the pc and snatching up your bag.

"Where do you think your going y/n?" Dave called after you you stopped seeing him there arms crossed giving you the filthiest look he could muster seeing your bag slung over your arm then there was the distinct buzzing of someone Henry at the door trying to be buzzed in. You pointed to the door opening our mouth to fake sickness or something but was interrupted.

"Oh Dave leave her alone...All the times she's here early let her go early for once, we don't need her anymore today and it means we get the office to ourselves for an hour~" your eyes bugged out as Stacey came to your aid fluttering her lashes to your manager. He heaved a sigh and nodded to the door in a 'get out of here' motion.

You smiled quickly darting out down the stairs to the ground floor seeing Henry standing there unimpressed finger holding the button down in one long irritating ring. You shook your head at him through the glass as he held the button.

You slapped the exit button opening the door and Henry tried darting past you into the building chest puffed shoulders ready to give your boss a piece of his mind but you caught the frightening man by his ridiculous bulging bicep. You spun with him digging your heels into the worn carpet.

"No no no! Henry no!" he carried on to the stairs dragging you with him passing you the roses and Kal's lead as the dog bounced around you both yipping like the over excited pup he was. Henry had hoped filling your hands would give him time to jump up a few steps out of your reach so he could have a chat with Dave about this whole misogynistic bullshit. Henry swore when you scampered behind him hooking your arms around his forearm and leant back, if he moved you'd drop like a rock and up the few steps as you both were, you'd hurt yourself. He stopped heaving a deep sigh looking to you.

"Just five minuet's babe is all I need! fucking feminine my ass he just wants to oogle your peach of an ass!! And that's not- that ass is mine!! fucking no one NO ONE fucking upsets my baby!" Your body flushed skin prickling at the shear alpha tone the possessive growl that seeped into his words made you tremble swallowing dryly you managed to shake it off and focused on the task at hand fucking could come later for now you needed to stop him from ripping your manager a new one. You moved crouching down bearing your weight down giggling at him as he still tried to thunder up the stairs. Kal helped to pulling at his lead it was a joint effort.

"Henn love?! I'll be sacked if you go up there and make Dave piss himself! Please lets just go home it's Friday I can find a few things over the week end for now can we please leave" he stopped and looked up to the brown ceiling and flickering light sigh he clicked his tongue then looked to you slowly with a heavy breath.

"....Fine, but next time I'm having him!" you smiled finding his protective side arousing your tummy clenching just knowing you big strong man could rinse the little twat upstairs made your pussy clench you always had a thing about strong men and Henry was the most physically fit you'd ever met. You somehow managed to coax him out of the door in the direction of home taking a detour picking up a Chinese on the way.

You giggled rolling around the floor with Kal. after a quiet dinner and snuggle with Henry you had been ushered away so he could do his nightly reading of his new script.You didn't mind at all you loved seeing him so invested in his roles. you caught a glimpse of the red roses sitting proudly in a glass vase on the fireplace almost blocking the view of the tv but not quite. You loved this, just being home with your favorite boys enjoy a nice quiet night in. you scoffed mocking kal who was pulling hard on the black rope trying to out witt you with quick flicks of his head, playing tug with Kal was a workout huge as he was he had the weight and strength to out match even Henry. You did not stand a chance just holding onto the black rope hoping to slow him down but he was full of energy today.

Henry was sitting on the sofa feet up reading his witcher script pen in hand as he read his page, one a night was the deal. But honestly trying to pull him away from this particular script was a hell of a job fair enough he was trying to memorize lines and scribble down alternatives in the margins. It was sweet how excited he got, he already knew the character in and out so could already tweak things around so it felt like Geralt. He was happy had been chasing the role for a while so you didn't mind that preparing for it was taking up most of his time. but you were still horny from earlier and wouldn't complain to a night of nooky. But alas Henry was drawn in by the script and you were trying to find other ways to distract yourself from the bubbling arousal in your loins, like playing with Kal. But that’s not to say you wasn't going to tease your man, there were ways to get his attention~

You smirked putting a plan into action bending lower wriggling your ass, craning back so your shorts rode up just that little bit more. Then once in place you squealed loud gaining the mans attention as Kal tugged dragging you across the floor growling playfully bouncing his weight back jerking you around, it was only then that Henry grunted in annoyance, your voice had been high he loved you keeping Kal entertained he really did, but sometimes he needed a little quiet. Especially when he was trying to concentrate.

"You know if I keep this up I'll have bigger muscles then you~" you giggled out a you tried to hold your own against the mighty bear. Henry smiled and watched shaking his head as Kal dragged you under his legs to the free space on the side of the coffee table. As much as he was trying to concentrate you could never get on his nerves for long, he just loved you to damn much. Henry frowned as you were pulled again wincing anticipating an accident as Kal was definitely getting to invested in the game.

"Or a dislocated shoulder" he commented as Kal did another particularly painful looking shunt and shook his head side to side still growling loud around the toy. It was then that he looked at you properly and what he saw made the man pause and suck in a breath air getting trapped in his throat at the innocently erotic sight. Seeing you bent over any time was a pleasure but here and now? Bouncing deliciously on your knees being half dragged about the living room added another dimension to the whole thing. Your arms and back stretched out low on the floor spine arched slightly, sitting with your knees tucked under you, the bouncing making your ass jump deliciously.

Two full ass cheeks peeking out of you short shorts as Kal carried on his jerky movements. You bit your lip grunting and tugged back pulling with all your might successfully gaining a few inches which Kal stole back and more making you yelp and moan as you were sprawled out on the carpet again. This time dragged up on your knees into a position he he spent many nights enjoying to his fullest. were you doing this on purpose? he wouldn't put it past you...Maybe you needed a fuck, a proper fuck.

Henry couldn't help the twitching in his groin, the first tremors as he got a front row seat to the two perfect globes of your ass seemingly clapping against one another with the shorts acting like a thong shucked up your ass. Fuck you wasn't wearing Knickers again. Little fucking minx. He lowered his feet to the floor now far to invested in watching you roll around in the tiny shorts. swept up in the way your body swayed taunting him. you turned to him with a sly smile and sent him a quick wink that he almost missed.

He gaped at you, you were doing it on purpose!! His script laid completely forgotten on his lap as he watched you turn back to Kal innocently dipping down low again shoulders to the floor stretched out taught in front of you face tucked into your arm as Kal fought you for the coveted rope. God...It had been a while since he fucked you like that. He licked his lips. Too long in the busy days since snagging the witcher role he had only had time for a two quickies. Two fumbled quickies in three weeks and they wasn't even that good. Well not his usual hour long foreplay teasing and touching then good few rounds. They were just a flurry of fast rutting motion's, less fucking more jerking trying to finish as quickly as you could just wanting that high. he bit his lip watching you watch him out of the corner of your eye definitely teasing him.

"Babe come here~" You froze and twisted your head back you knew that tone.Grinning knowing you'd got your way you looked seeing Henry eyeing you hungrily biting his lip tilting his head, legs spread wide making his thighs bulge in what should be a loose set of black shorts but actually became skin tight on this Goliath of a man. You flushed under the gaze but managed to hold into the rope not giving the still pulling pup an inch. His eyes were a dark ocean blue pupils nearly swallowing the color completely, you wondered how far you could push him. you pouted at him before teasing him further opening your legs wider letting the material of your shorts almost completely disappear.

"Henry...I'm playing with Kal-" he squinted at you then quirked a brow before shaking his head snapping shut the folder holding the script and let it drop to the floor by his foot with a decisive thump. You gulped. But didn't move instead you heaved back pulling the Akita across the floor.

"Babe...Come here Kal's had his playtime..." you rolled your eyes hearing the silent 'now I want mine' sometimes he was a man child. You twisted your head to him with a flutter of your lashes and cheeky grin.

"Well I'm playing with Kal you have to wait your turn-HEY? HENRY THAT’S CHEATING!?" You yelped as Henry quickly bolted up right and stomped on the rope whilst using his considerable size and strength to pull you up off the floor making you release the toy.

"Well that’s enough playing with Kal, time to play with me. I wont be cock blocked in my own house by the dog~" you giggled as Henry quickly began climbing the stairs laughing kicking your feet, watching as Kal stayed two steps behind rope in his mouth excitedly following his parents, you were all going to play!. It was only when the dog found himself shut out of the bedroom did he realize you were in fact not going to be playing with him anymore tonight. you could hear the indignant huff through the door.

You wriggled as Henry fell onto the bed with you wrapped around him slowly devouring each other with deep kisses tongues and teeth roaming each other. It had been a good few weeks since you both explored one another properly. Henry pulled away chuckling at the soft scratches at the door. Kal was not impressed.

"Kal go lie down! We will be finished soon" Henry called out and ignored the high whines and more insistent scratching at the door and leaned over you sucking at your neck decorating it as he saw fit leaving marks of red and purple biting his mark into the crook of your neck then lower tracing a warm wet train over your thin shirt. You moaned clutching his waist trapping him between your thighs using the grip you had to rock up onto him trying to ease the burning in your core.

"Oh whats this? Someone is impatient considering she wanted to keep playing with Kal?" His voice came out as a deep rasp making you gasp cupping his face.

"You treating me with your Geralt babe?" He smiled latching onto your ear rocking down onto you drawing out soft mewls. You vaguely heard Kals whines become louder barks out side the door hearing the dog jump up pawing at the handle of the door trying to break in.

"Oh you like?~" You sighed quickly trying to rid your tshirt panting feeling just how wet your slit had got, you were embarrassingly wet considering you hadn't even done anything yet.

"Fuck yes~ oh god its so-ah fuck its so hot Henry~" he pulled back growling in the new low tone you hadn't known he was capable of, his large hands helped remove the tshirt throwing it across the room and latched onto your tits biting and sucking slow flicking his tongue across a pebbled nipple as his hands stripped you of your shorts. he chuckled seeing the damp patch, your arousal sticking to the material in one neat line.

"Oh you really do need me don't you love~" you nodded to him whining when he pulled back grunting a growl biting your boob and sucking harshly. You both moved in tandem rolling around the sheets grinding ,rocking ,biting and grunting both intent on ignoring the pup crying outside the door. He would wear himself out and get bored. Well that was the plan anyway.

Henry finally pinned you and descended on your core like a starving man given the sweetest fruit. You cried out fingers in his hair unsure what spurred on this heated frenzie but would happily indulge him. One thing you loved about him is he was always up for eating you out, the man thrived on it! He seemed to get a massive kick out of feasting on you until you came all over him. You grunted as he suckled on your bud teasing and twisting his supple lips across it Nipping you began to loose yourself panting and jerking up into his mouth chasing a sweet release you hadn't known you needed and then you heard it.

A deep loud echoing mournful howl. Even Henry stopped frowning up at you from between your legs. That was new, Kal wasn't a howly dog, he barked and yipped giving off the weirdest groans and moans. But never howled. You both burst out laughing unable to stop it as the howls were all over the place, loud and quiet raspy and uneven like Kal was an apprentice learning on the job.they were less 'howls' and more 'how-wo-wow-wo-wow' It was clear this was his first time but bless him he was trying to be the wolf of the house. You panicked as he began to get the hang of it and patted Henry's shoulder. he was still chuckling finding Kals new found voice hilarious.

"Quick stop him! If he learns that we'll never hear the end of it!" You chuckled pulling the thin sheet over you as Henry swore and quickly slinked off the bed racing to the door opening it stopping Kal in his tracks. The Akita smiled panted a few breaths thumped his tail on the floor then collected his rope entering, jumping on the bed without a care in the world.

"Babe?" You asked biting the inside of your cheek trying to stop the giggles as Henry began to scowl at the fluffy bear sprawling out on his side of the bed a flush building up his chest settling over his face. He cleared his throat.

You and Henry watched as Kal moved dropping the rope by your hand waiting for you to continue your game of tug. You flopped back in peels of laughter at Henry's face. The man looked amused and livid at the same time as realization struck. Kal, lovable cute baby boi Kal had just played Henry like a fiddle. You didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the fact your boyfriend, your chosen mate had just been outsmarted by a dog.

"Yes love?" He said none to happy with how things had turned out, here he was standing at the foot of his bed painful hard on and there you were naked and willing...In his bed...With Kal. This was not the plan.

"I hate to break it to you...But you've just been cock blocked in your own house by your dog....For a game of tug!" You giggled as you threw Henry's previous words back at him petting Kal who was still fiddling with the rope trying to make you grab it.

"No shit...Can we still fuck? I mean he can have my side! I'm gonna be on top of you anyway?" You gaped at him as he rounded the bed fulling intent on rolling on top of you sliding home. You held up your hand to him.

"Nope! No way am I fucking you next to Kal!" Henry ignored you crouching over you trying to lay you back down to finish what he started before being rudely interrupted by the Akita now in bed with his girlfriend.

"Oh babe why not? this is painful, look I'm going purple...Besides you started it its your responsibility~" he whined trying to bat away your pushing hands leaning in to capture you with a burning kiss. You dodged anticipating his next move, his kisses were always a sure fire way to make you completely melt and give in to him. you quickly twisted away throwing your legs over the side of the bed placing your hands either side of his naked hips, pressing him back as he still tried to gain on you. you swallowed looking up at him meeting his lopsided grin, trying to ignore the proud cock swaying in front of you almost tapping your heaving breasts.

"How about the shower? He's scared of the bathroom since his last bath?" Henry snapped his fingers and clapped face lighting up as he patted your hands slowly easing them off of him.

"Fuck yes! Babe you are a genius!" He moved over and kissed your face making you bat him away and then he turned to Kal wagging a finger at him.

"And you my four legged son are a pain in the ass!" You shook your head patting Kal as he tilted his head he looked offended with his dads statement. You looked to the bathroom door as Henry's pert ass vanished around the door frame.

"Daddy didn't mean it baby boy~ you know how he is when he doesn't get his way...Just a spoiled man child~ he loves you really" Kal whined ears flattening as he heard the shower switch on. You patted the dog with a sigh and got up padding across the bedroom to the en suit.

"Don't worry baby you stay there and daddy wont get you in the mean old shower~" you giggled scratching his ears as he huffed in defeat. His daddy had got the better of him and the Akita wasn't pleased. He grumbled as Henry poked his head around the door frame wriggling his brows at you as you passed him getting a playful smack on the rear. then he faced the dog and stuck his tongue out childishly to the dog who huffed and turned around choosing to give you both a clear view of his ass.

#henry cavill fic #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill smut #henry cavill #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill fluff #kal cavill

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vminity21 · 3 years

Text

Recompense | myg

Pairing: student!yoongi x student!reader, college!au f2l

Word Count: 2,925

Genre: angst, fluff

Warning(s): language, mention of death of a relative; Rated: pg 13

Summary: Underneath the tough exterior is truly grief, yet Yoongi is unable to execute it well until he discovers that you relate to him more than he realized. Sometimes learning that you are not alone is the best form of healing.

Credits to: @suhdays for making such a beautiful cover!! And thank you @cyberkryptonitecupcake for making the request! I really hope you like it!

Rain clouds encompass campus as easily as entering the end of a thread into a needle. At least, that’s the analogy you groggily come up with and you are sticking with it. Compiling your textbooks into your backpack, you trace your steps in finding your dorm key and with a brief look in the mirror, you inhale and exhale slowly. You can do this today. You are smart. You have great hair. You will not annoy Yoongi for the millionth time in two days. It has taken a lot over the years to give yourself positive affirmations to start your day as your mother always taught you to do so, but when she had passed, you went a very long time without encouraging yourself at all.

But that’s the secret you keep. With no social media for anyone to discreetly look at of you, you bury the heartbreak as best as you can because overall you know that your mother is proud of you. She would want you to stay positive; she would want you to smile not only for you but for the sake of others. Stepping onto the sidewalk, you put in your airpods with an upbeat tune as you saunter to class. You were partnered for a project with Min Yoongi, and one thing you have learned is that he is not your biggest fan for reasons you are uncertain. Maybe it has to do with how much you antagonize him with your charms? Maybe it has to do with the irresistible way you cut letters out of construction paper. Who even knows? But…. He does have a cute bu-

The brief collide of a large shoulder astonishes you as you jolt to remove an airpod, “Hobi, are you insane?” You stifle a large smile as he scrunches his nose at you.

“Saw the perfect opportunity and I took it.”

“Well, good for you. How are you and Monnie holding up? This project is intense.”

“Firstly, I better confess before she calls me out. She’s done all the work. Secondly, is it the project? Or the partner?”

Flashing your best friend with a warning look, you keep the subject away from Yoongi. “Of course, your girlfriend has done all the work! What is the point of a boyfriend if he is completely useless!”

“Excuse me, Heathen. I’ve come up with some of the facts that we have to present so I have put in a smidge of my time.” He shakes his head, ruffling his strands from his laughing eyes.

“You better be glad she loves you. I’d washi tape your eyes closed. And then superglue wiggle eyes in your hair.”

“I’d also give him a mullet and replace his eyebrows with pipe cleaners. Hello guys,” Monnie joins from the library as all of you continue to class.

“And what makes you think I wouldn’t fight back?” Hoseok muses while laying a steady hand upon his beloved tendrils in preparation to protect.

“I have my ways, peasant.”

Feigning to be nervous, Hoseok’s gaze flickers between you and Monnie. “I don’t know what kind of vile thoughts are festering within your skulls, but I do not want any part of it. But, to return your question because I have human decency unlike you stale croutons, how is the project going with Yoongry?”

“Hobi, how many times do I have to tell you that he’s not angry, he’s just… I don’t know difficult.”

“Seems angry to me, ow!” Hoseok rubs his side from where Monnie jabbed him with her elbow upon entering the classroom.

“Sh! He’s right over there,” Monnie whispers in warning. Yoongi is leaned in his chair with arms crossed, his intimidating gaze observes the room while his tousled, black hair reveals his forehead. As much as you hate to admit this, you are very attracted to him- especially when his eyes move to find you. Shit! Smiling in his direction as happily as you can muster, he briefly rolls his eyes in response before returning his gaze to the front where you happen to make a quick trip to the professor.

“Um, Professor Namjoon, how are you doing?”

“Ah! My straight A student, I am wonderful, how are you?”

“I am doing great, Professor, just wanted to let you know that I read over the articles you suggested for the project! Super helpful!” You gleam.

Yoongi eyes you as you continue your conversation with Professor Namjoon. One thing he has picked up on is how much you like to people please which is something he has never fully understood about the human population in general. Nobody should have to go out of their way just to make someone happy if they do not want to, but then again, it’s hard for him to express his emotions especially after his mother passed away before the semester even started.

“Good morning!” Your chirpy voice resonates with the intention of making Yoongi smile, but instead he murmurs his greetings in response.

“You studied over Furosemide last night, haven’t you? That’s one of the major heart medications used in the veterinary field.”

“I sure did. You studied up on pimobendan as well, correct?” The project is based on medications for congestive heart failure and the importance of why they are needed along with the explanation of what happens within the heart when it is functioning abnormally. ‘Lucky, I got stuck doing a project on the prostate,’ Hoseok’s whine echoes in the forefront of your brain.

After a few seconds, you can’t seem to refrain from taking Yoongi’s presence in. He really grew up to be so handsome. The thin curve of his chin, his button nose, his soft, umber eyes and the way he gels his hair in place, even the scent of him is alluring.

“Staring at me isn’t going to get the job done,” he mumbles, slipping the rolled poster behind him to unravel upon the desk.

“Looking at you?” You jump, frantically moving to gather the materials needed to decorate the project. “I’d rather look at a pin cushion.”

“It probably would appreciate it if you didn’t stare at it either.”

Squinting your eyes at him, your mouth open and shuts multiple times without a subtle comeback. “What is with you? You know I’m not going to cower until you smile, right?”

Shoulders tensing, Yoongi peers at you, “Can you take anything seriously for at least one second?”

“If taking this project would help boost my immune system, sure, why not.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you need a dose of sunshine. Hoseok has a contagious smile, why don’t I introduce?”

You are unaware of the grip you have on the chair beside you, trying everything you can to maintain your happy façade no matter how much you are tempted to let it crumble. How was your mom so good at handling people like this? There has to be something deeper tormenting him to resonate so much hatred to whatever it is he is clinging to.

“I would prefer to be introduced to a tree. Now if you’ll so kindly hand me the stencil sheet, I will begin formulating words to define the jobs of the atriums versus the ventricles before tracing the letters.”

“I’ll leave you to it then. In the meantime, I’m going to grab a coffee, I’ll be right back.” Shuffling to retrieve your wallet, you are sure Professor Namjoon wouldn’t notice the few minutes that you would be gone and for what it’s worth, you need a moment to relax. What happened to make him so cold? Unbeknownst to you, a picture of your mother swoops to the ground to land at the tip of Yoongi’s shoe. Eyebrows scrunching, he bends to pick up the picture to see a woman whose smile matches yours, but not only that, there is a familiarity about her as if he has seen her before.

“Miss Jeon?” Memories swarm his mind of his childhood where an exuberant joy was in the air mingled with the smell of chocolate chip cookies. A little girl chased him around the backyard while giggles reverberated throughout the atmosphere. Miss Jeon would call out for you guys when the treats were ready and would always make sure Yoongi had everything he needed when he would come to visit. But that little girl who was his best friend as a child happened to be none other than you. How had he not recognized you? Another memory resurfaces, one of his own mother sharing laughter with yours. They had been friends, too.

From what is written on the back of the portrait, it is revealed that your mother is no longer on earth right beside you the same as his mother left this world so soon. Tears gather in his eyes as the shame overwhelms his chest in all entirety. Who was he to judge you based on your happiness? If you could lose someone who obviously meant the world to you and can still maintain your kindness, then why can’t he?

Bustling of the other students is loud enough to not focus in on the man whose world has seemed to halt. Swallowing roughly, he tries steadying the picture with his quivering hands as a tear drips off his cheek. His mother would be disappointed in how he coped with his anger and today was the day he would need to make a change. And he will. When you return, the Styrofoam cup warm in your palm, you set it onto the table, “Alright, now that I’ve retreated for a few minutes, I would hope your top tier attitude has-”

Quieting immediately, you take in a trail of tears resting on Yoongi’s face. Eyebrows furrowing, you are so surprised that words do not exist in this very moment. Why is he crying? Did you say something wrong?

“I’m sorry,” he whispers through the trembling of his chin, “I’m so sorry.”

“Yoongi, what’s?” Eyes trailing to his hands, you gasp at the realization that he is holding the picture of your mother that you carry with you everywhere you go. Before you can even verbalize anything, Yoongi hands you the picture without a word and exits the classroom while you stand there in silence.

Days pass and you haven’t seen nor have heard from Yoongi. Running your hands over your face, you’re leaned over your desk with nothing but the days events cycling heavily on your brain. Any form of homework has not been touched, and Professor Namjoon seemed to fully understand the circumstances of why you needed to leave class early. Collecting the materials as well as the posterboard, Hoseok and Monnie had helped you carry everything back to your dorm and offered to stay with you for the evening, but you declined. LenLen, your roommate happens to be with her boyfriend, Jimin which saves time for you to cry.

You miss your mother more than anything in this world, and she is the first person you would have called if she had been alive. How did you miss the picture falling out of your backpack when you grabbed your wallet? Deep down you always knew who Min Yoongi was, he was your ‘soulmate’ when the pair of you were children. Your mothers would always joke about a future of grandchildren with the absolute assurance that you and Yoongi were destined to be husband and wife. Unfortunately, you and your mother had to relocate for her job opportunity and you never saw Yoongi again until you recognized him the beginning of this semester.

It is funny how life works sometimes, as if an invisible string tied him to you in all aspects of life. Alas, he did not remember you, hence why you had been so lenient with his annoyance directed at you. You wanted to believe that he would wake up, and because he was so stand offish, you couldn’t find the bravery to confront him nor confess that he was your friend at one point in life. Instead, you bottled it up. When you called your brother to give an update a few days ago, he relayed the news regarding Yoongi’s mother which all made sense as to why Yoongi was so distant; your heart shattered for him as tears pooled. How could you possibly ever bring up a subject as devastating as that? But you wanted Yoongi to know that he is not alone. You are mourning as he is. If only he would realize who you are-

A soft knock on the door jolts you from your palms while sparks dance along your vision before clearing up. Confused due to not expecting anyone, you carefully step to the door, cracking it open to realize that Yoongi of all humans is standing with a bouquet of roses in his grip. “Yoongi?” You take in a sharp breath, “How did you find my dorm? I don’t remember-”

“I met Hoseok,” he says softly, “You were right, his smile is… definitely contagious but rather mischievous for lack of a better term. He told me where to go.”

Giggling, not only at his accurate description of Jung Hoseok, but also out of uncertainty because you have no idea how to truly react. Is it odd that you are very happy that Yoongi is here? Gaze flitting to the roses, you are in awe of how beautiful they are against the dark shade of his trench coat. “They’re beautiful.” You say, “How did you know I loved roses?”

A gentle smirk graces his lips, the closest to a smile you have ever seen, and you have never felt your heart pitter patter the way it just did. “I remember always seeing them in a vase when my mother and I would visit.” His fingers stir along the plastic cover around the stems, “Really, I am so sorry. You did not deserve to be treated that way. I was wrong to take my frustrations out on you. Not that this is an excuse but, my mother-”

Reaching your fingers to lightly press to the back of his hand, he stops as his eyes widen. “Why don’t you come in?” You whisper, and straight way he enters, following you to a sofa set off to the side. “My brother told me about your mother. Yoongi, I am so sorry about that. She was the sweetest woman. My mom always missed her after we moved.”

“And mine always missed your mother,” you take the roses and swiftly prepare a vase of water to settle them in, decorating the kitchen counter with the beauty of the red petals. “I think… I think I just blocked out that time in my life because I hated that you weren’t there with me anymore.”

Your heart skips a beat. Did Yoongi eventually remember everything after all? “I was heartbroken, too.” Turning to lean your back against the counter, you cross your arms to try to bring some comfort to the anxious feeling beneath your chest. The pain of the losses will never go away, but the man across the room will end up being the bloom of happiness that you will need, and you will be his solace- the one person who will remind him that he is not alone. He has you. “I don’t want to hear another apology, okay?”

His mouth falls open, “But-”

“Nay, you shan’t.”

“Really though, how will I ever repay you for my actions? I should have never forgotten about you.”

Arms still crossed, you gradually near him as he stands to his feet, your eyes connect with his, “All I want you to know is that you are not alone. Sure, you may not have known who I was majority of the semester, but at least you know now.” When his gaze, filled with guilt, strays, you move your head to regain his focus. “Yoongi, really, you remember me now. So, lets try to live life the way our mothers would want us to.” Your voice breaks, knowing how proud they must be of the pair of you reconciling and reuniting after years of being apart. “Besides, we have a lot to learn, and a project to finish, so whaddya say?”

For the first time in years, you get to see it, the gummy smile glowing from his face as he shakes his head at you. “Must I be reminded of that wretched thing? I’d prefer to shave my eyebrows.”

“You have a sense of humor?” You tease lightheartedly as you nudge his shoulder with your knuckles. “I knew you had it in you!” Chuckling, he reaches for your frame to pull into a tight embrace, you immediately relax into his mold while you breathe in the crisp scent of his cologne. “Goodness, you smell like a dream. If our moms were correct about our future, I am not going to be disappointed!” For once, the pair of you feel complete even if sorrow will awake from time to time- as Yoongi squeezes you tighter, you bury into the crook of his neck, pressing a small kiss to his warm skin. “We better make an A+.”

Pulling away slightly, to rest his forehead upon yours, he is still smiling, “Following up with some extra credit.”

“Agreed,” you beam, letting his warmth encompass you to its full extent, when you almost lose balance due to him shifting his feet, he catches you.

“I’m so-”

“Gah!” Your fingers brush his lips, “What did I tell you?”

“No more apologies.”

#btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #bangtanhq #heartsforbts #kafenetwork #yoongi #min yoongi #bts #bts yoongi #bts min yoongi #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #2k +#min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

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hutchhitched · 3 years

Text

Walk Back

Written by: @hutchhitched

Prompt 143: The girl of my dreams asked me if I needed a ride home from campus so I obviously let her drive me home then walked back to campus a couple of hours later to get my car. [submitted by anonymous]

Ratings/Warnings: G

A/N: I’m continuing to post the nine @everlarkficexchange prompts I took and then sat on throughout the early months of the pandemic. This is the sixth of the nine. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. Huge thanks to @javistg for understanding the delays. Only three more to go!

Peeta Mellark knows he’s got it good compared to a lot of people. He really does, but that doesn’t stop him from wallowing in pity every once in a while. He’s in college, the first in his family, on a hefty scholarship; his grades are good; he has a lot of friends and a good work study job that actually does give him some time to study. Those are all good things. They really are, and he doesn’t dispute it, but…

He’s also had a rough home life with a mom who’s never satisfied with anything he does and a father who loves him but can’t stand up to his wife long enough to protect his three sons from her emotional abuse. He’s a first-generation college student who’s excelling in courses for his major but isn’t doing so great in all his other general education courses. He has to work a lot more than he should for someone with his course load. Worst of all, though, he’s madly in love with a woman who likely doesn’t know his name. Well, that’s probably not true, but still. She’s certainly not crazy about him the way he is mad for her.

There’s just no way Katniss Everdeen, fellow Panem University student and the smartest girl in his biology lab, would ever give him the time of day. Not when she already has a boyfriend, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Rugged, who’s about to graduate with a promising career. That’s unlike Peeta, an art major. He’ll never amount to anything, or so his mother likes to remind him every time he’s stupid enough to visit his family.

Besides, Katniss is beautiful and sassy and shy and so many other wonderful things. She has no idea the effect she has on him or any other male within a mile radius, including their biology professor who’s proclaimed her the most brilliant student he’s had in his twenty-two years of teaching. Peeta spends the better part of their class together watching her from across the room, which is probably why his lab partner hates him and his grade in that class absolutely sucks.

So, while Peeta knows he’s got some things going for him, it’s not surprising that he finds himself a little down in the dumps occasionally—especially on days when his crush shows up at his workplace. It’s even worse when his co-worker knows about his hopeless infatuation and has no shame. Johanna Mason may be his least favorite person on days like that. Today happens to be one of those days. He’s cursing his life when Jo comes up behind him and leans down to whisper in his ear.

“Oooooooooh ooooooh. Katniss is pretty, isn’t she? Look at her over there. So serious. What do you think she’s getting ready to check out, and is there any way to make it sexual when gets over here?”

“Shut up, Jo,” Peeta hisses as his cheeks flush, and he curls into himself, trying to hide behind the circulation desk so Katniss won’t see him.

The last thing he wants is for the girl he’s been crushing on for months to hear his co-worker tease him about his hopeless attraction. The problem is that he told Johanna in a fit of self-loathing, and she coached him through it, built him up so his ego was a little higher than the floor and prepared him some for what to say to a girl when he likes her. While it was very kind of Jo to offer, Peeta isn’t that hopeless. He’d had a number of girlfriends in high school, but none of them compare to Katniss Everdeen. She is a goddess.

“What time’s your shift done today, hot buns?”

“Don’t call me that! What is wrong with you?” he hisses. “Why are you so terrible?”

“Terrible? I’m trying to get you laid, buddy. It’s certainly never going to happen if I leave you to your own devices, although I’m sure you’re taking care of yourself plenty. You’re a guy, after all.”

Peeta’s face floods with heat, and he wants to slide onto the floor and hide behind the counter. She’s not wrong—he is a healthy, twenty-one-year-old man who hasn’t dated in a while—but Peeta doesn’t want his co-worker to know that. She’ll probably tell the whole world if he confirms what she suspects. Or say something to Katniss, which would be horrifying.

“Why do you want to know?” he asks, suspicious.

“Knowledge is power, my friend. Knowledge is power.”

Still not convinced, he welcomes a patron and scans the student ID he’s handed. “Exactly ten minutes,” he mutters as he types in the bar codes of the pile of library books in front of him before sliding them across the counter. It’s almost midterm, so everyone’s trying to finish projects and bibliographies for research papers before they leave for spring break. The library’s been slammed for days.

“She’s on her way over here,” Johanna nudges him.

He whips his head up, and his eyes widen as he realizes Jo’s right. Katniss pages through a book as she strides toward the circulation desk. Johanna turns to busy herself with a pile of returned books, and he squeezes his legs together under the desk. If he can just stop his hands from shaking, things will be great.

“Hi, Peeta,” she says with a guarded smile as she hands him her student ID. “How’s it going?”

“K-katniss! Hi!” His voice squeaks, and he cringes internally. He sounds like an idiot. “It’s good. I’m good. How are you?”

“Fine. I’m fine.” She hands him her student ID, and he glances down at the book she set on the counter.

“History of Sculpture? That’s…”

She laughs wryly and nods. “Yeah, I know. I’m not sure how I managed to get myself into it, but I signed up for an art appreciation class. I have zero artistic ability, so it’s painful.”

“Oh,” he says. “That’s…yeah.”

Johanna snorts behind him, and he tosses her a warning look. He should have known better. The woman doesn’t have a tactful bone in her body. Instead, she comes to stand behind Peeta and surveys Katniss.

“You know, Peeta here is an art major,” Jo announces with her hand on his shoulder. “I bet he could help you with your art appreciation class. He’s great at that kind of stuff.”

“Are you really?” Katniss asks, her eyes widening in pleased surprise. “I didn’t know that.”

“I am,” he confirms. “I’m more of a painter than anything else, but I know quite a bit about all the different media. It’s kind of in the curriculum for my major.”

She looks impressed, but she shakes her head as she picks up her book and tucks her ID into her pocket. “I couldn’t ask you to help, but that’s cool. I thought you were a biology major like me.”

Johanna smacks him on the back, and he glares at her before wiping his expression clean and flashing a closed mouth grin at Katniss. When nobody says anything, Katniss turns to go.

“Nonsense!” Jo cries. “Peeta’d be happy to help. I’m sure there’s something you could do for him to repay his generosity.”

He swears under his breath and elbows Jo in the gut.

“Oh, I don’t think there’s anything I have that Peeta wants—”

“A ride home?” Jo interrupts. “Peeta’s car’s in the shop. He asked me for a ride, but his shift is over now, and I’ve got another two hours before I can leave. Poor guy. He’d really appreciate the lift.”

Relief colors her face, and she nods. “I’d be happy to do that. My car’s on the street. I snagged one of those metered ones that are always full. Must be my lucky day.”

“Oh, I’d say it certainly is,” Jo says, a wide self-satisfied smile plastered on her face. She practically shoves him out of his chair and adds, “Peeta, why don’t you go clock out. I’ll finish this up for you.”

“I can—”

“No, you can’t. You’re too close to hours. Besides, you wouldn’t want to keep Katniss waiting, now would you?”

“You really are the devil, aren’t you?” he hisses as he grabs his stuff. “My car’s in the parking garage, not the shop. What the hell are you doing?”

“Getting you some time alone with the girl of your dreams,” she explains with a withering look. “Now, let her give you a ride home so you can schmooze her.”

Still disgruntled, he shuffles to the door and meets Katniss on the steps. She shifts uncomfortably, tugging on her braid and hunching her shoulders. He wonders if she’s trying to hide or if she’s cold in the chill of the early spring day.

“I really appreciate this,” he says.

She nods and leads him to her car. “No problem. It’s the least I can do.”

“You don’t have to do anything at all.”

She’s silent as she starts her car. Hesitating, she glances over at him and asks, “Does that mean you don’t want to tutor me? I understand if you don’t. It’s asking a lot for someone you barely know, especially since I can’t really afford to pay you.”

“Except in rides.”

“Well, yeah. I can do that.” She smiles at him tremulously and shifts the car into gear. Glancing over her shoulder, she signals and pulls out of the parking spot and onto the street.

“You could help me in bio,” he blurts and his cheeks heat.

“Really?”

He cringes and shrugs. “Yeah. I can’t seem to get the hang of it. I think I’m one of those people that understands it in theory but not in practicality. I’m doing fine in the lecture, but lab is really confusing.” He doesn’t add that most of that is her fault, but not really, because he can’t stop mooning over her.

“I can do that.”

He glances at the pleased curve of her lips and wonders how he can make it happen again. The joy of seeing her happy sinks into his bones and gives him life. It’s ridiculous, but it’s true. He has no reason to think he should except common human decency matched with his overwhelming crush. He feels like a middle school boy who’s just figured out that girls and boys have different parts.

Katniss stops at the intersection and glances over at him. Bashful, she admits, “I don’t know where I’m going.”

Peeta’s eyebrows furrow and he motions out the windshield. “South?”

“No,” she answers with a nervous laugh. “I mean, I don’t know where you live.”

He’s an idiot. Of course she doesn’t know where he lives. “Sorry! Sorry. Turn left here. I wasn’t thinking.”

“If you want…”

“If I want?” he prods.

“Well, maybe, if you don’t mind, that is.” She clears her throat and then words burst from her in a torrent. “I know a coffee shop that no one else really goes to. It’s quiet and the coffee’s good. They know me there, and I have a table they kind of save just for me. If you wanted to go over some of this sculpture stuff today, that’d be a good place.”

“Oh. Okay,” he answers, fighting to keep his face clear of the glee he feels. Katniss Everdeen just asked him to go out with her. Well, she asked him to go somewhere with her, but that was more than he’d dreamed would happen any time he imagined actually speaking to her. Not only is he going to sit at the same table with her in a public place, but he’s at her mercy with transportation. She’s got him captive, and he approves.

“Maybe I can take a look over your lab notes with you, too. You know, if you want.”

Oh, he wants. That’s never been in question. He absolutely wants when it comes to Katniss Everdeen.

“That’d be great. Really great.”

The place itself is an independent coffee shop in an older area of town called The Seam. The properties tend to be more run-down than those closer to campus, but the café is cozy and humble and has great choices in both coffee and tea. He chooses a black peppermint he’s loved since his father made it for him when he was sick. His father had also snuck cookies to Peeta despite the disapproval of his mom. He adds sugar before taking a sip that transports him back to childhood. He breathes in as he swallows and blows out a heavy sigh.

Amused, Katniss asks, “That good?”

Nodding, he inhales the aroma and smiles softly. “Yeah. It’s that good. Thanks for bringing me here.”

Pleased, Katniss drops her head and shuffles in her bag for the book on sculpture and her class notes. They work together for over an hour before reviewing information from their biology lab. He finds she’s a good tutor, knowledgeable and skilled at breaking down the concepts into sizable chunks that seemed overwhelming previously. When he compliments her on it, she waves him off but returns the sentiment.

“I already feel like I appreciate art more.”

“Glad I could help.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, though,” she teases. “I’ll still need you after break’s over, but I think I can pass the final now, anyway.”

He shivers at her claiming she’ll need him. It’s closer to genuine interest than anything he’s ever gotten from her, and it gives him a small thrill of hope.

Reluctantly, she packs up her bag and sighs. “I really need to get home, but this was fun.”

“Yeah, I should be getting back, too. Got a lot to do before bed.”

They’re quiet as they slide into the car. Contemplative, Peeta almost forgets to provide instructions so Katniss knows where to take him. As he guides her through unfamiliar streets that turn into those he sees every day, he sends silent thanks to Johanna for her brashness and refusal to let things go. He only hopes he doesn’t have a ticket on his car when he retrieves it—hopefully before it’s towed.

“This is it,” he says with a wave at his front door. None of his roommates are home, which means he’s stuck until they return. He doesn’t want to say goodbye, but she’s antsy, unsure what to do with her hands or where to look. “Thanks again for the ride. Come find me at the library after break, and we’ll do a repeat of tonight.”

“Sounds great,” she says warmly. “Hope you get your car back soon.”

“Yeah, me too,” he grumbles.

He watches her leave, lifting his hand in farewell until her car turns the corner and heads back the way she came. Fishing his cell out of his pocket, he sends his roommates a group text asking when they’ll be home and if one of them can give him a ride back to campus. As each of them gives a reason for their absence, he realizes he’s on his own. He does stow his bag inside and grab a drink before heading back outside. Squaring his shoulders, he shoves his hands in his jacket pockets and begins the walk back.

It takes an hour, and he does have a parking ticket. Still, Peeta has no regrets. The afternoon with Katniss was the best of the year with the promise of more to come. She’s worth the inconvenience.

#everlarkficexchange #springtime edition 2020 #prompt 143 #everlark #everlark fanfiction #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #walk back

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somestansomewhere · 3 years

Text

Debbie Gallagher: ALL Love Interests RANKED

Okay! I tried to rank all of Debs’ love interests and it was hard to do because I am not set on that ONE PERSON that I ship her with above all else, but these are my thoughts! Keep in mind that these are all MY OPINIONS and you are entitled to yours as well! Let’s talk about it! If you read all this ILY.

Here we go:

...................................

23. The Guy At The Pool (Season 5)

He thought Debs was special needs and she tried to flirt with him...

22. Kelly (Season 9-10)

I LOVE Kelly so much but she was not into Debbie! I really love her with Carl and Debbie should not have tried to interfere! I will however say that I really really REALLY enjoy their friendship and I wish that that would have continued on. They had some really good moments together.

20/21. Eugene (Season 6) & Board Game Guy (Season 7)

Alright so these two don’t technically count because Frank tried to set Debbie up with Eugene so that she’d be written into his will. And the Board Game Guy was from a deleted scene as one of Debbie’s “life partners” from that flyer she made. So enough said.

18/19. Tyler (Season 6) & Erika (Season 6)

Again, Frank attempted to set Debbie up with Tyler and while that “potential relationship” wasn’t as bad as what happened between her and Erika, I am grouping them together because Debbie wasn’t technically into either of them and it was set up to fail right from the start.

17. Larry (Season 6)

The pregnancy fetish guy! I’m not quite sure what the intentions were for this character in the long run but it was a funny joke in the episode he was in. Even in the beginning Larry gave off red flags, but Debbie was happy... until the truth was revealed. Weird.

16. Jared (Season 11)

Another irrelevant love interest: the gay guy that cheated on his husband with Debbie after giving her cocaine. Obvious issues with this encounter/plot line aside, I did feel that their interactions at the bar were flirtatious and I didn’t hate him.

15. Calista (Season 11)

ANOTHER irrelevant character that was used and never brought back!!! I didn’t totally hate her either, she was upfront about her ex-girlfriend and that whole situation. She helped Debbie and didn’t take advantage of her but the second she came on screen; I’m sorry but I did not give a fuck. Her last episode built up a potential friend/relationship opportunity for Debbie and they just did nothing with it. Idfk what else to say, not a fan but I did appreciate Calista trying to take care of Debbie when she clearly was drinking too much.

14. Sandy (Season 10-11)

Oh boy, everyone’s favorite partner of Debbie’s... Yeah, Sandy is so low on this list not necessarily because I didn’t like her for Debbie, or that I have beef with Elise (b/c I love her as an actor sm). I personally just hate the sheer fact that this character EXISTS in the first place. I never understood the hype, but I know that people only like her because she’s a Milkovich ie. related to Mickey. That’s the hard truth this fandom isn’t willing to admit. My disliking Sandy should be a post of its own but lemme get into her relationship with Debbie.

You could tell that Emma and Elise liked working together so the chemistry was sorta there (definitely not soulmate shit tho). Each time that they interacted in s10 I was over it. S11 was better in the sense that whether I would like to admit it or not, they did have some “cute moments” (mainly just Sandy calling Debbie babe/babes). The second shit hit the fan in regards to Sandy’s history, I immediately understood Debbie’s issue with her and why her character would not want to be with Sandy. But, with that being said, Debbie was also in the wrong because she made everything about herself throughout the entire course of this relationship! Sandy did call her out, ex: “who was supposed to take Franny to school?”, and things like that were nice. HOWEVER I am sorry to say, this relationship felt like a massive waste of time and it felt like they were trying to force something that shouldn’t have existed to begin with. I don’t have the patience to even analyze this anymore, but maybe down the line because clearly there is SO MUCH to delve into!

13. Alex (Season 9)

Omg I did not like this relationship/plotline at all. Alex had issues but Debbie was so inconsiderate! I never saw the appeal here! It was nice that Alex had the decency to go and help Debs with Ford after the fact. I just feel “meh” about this tho. They had moments but ultimately I personally wasn’t into it and Debbie’s random newfound self discovery of “lesbianism”.

12. Kyle (Season 3)

Emma Kenney’s first kiss! Kyle was a one episode character that did have the potential to be more than that. I didn’t hate the kid as Debbie’s love interest, but there also wasn’t anything special about him. He was just kinda there and then he left. Debbie really seemed to like him though, spelling his name in her peas, etc.. I do like that one line about cigarettes that Kyle had but again he was such a short lived character and when he turned out not to be related to Kevin it became unnecessary to keep him around... even if the episode alluded to him returning. They were sorta cute!

11. Claudia (Season 10)

So I didn’t like this relationship much either but there was a certain kind of stability in the relationship that felt organic and nice. Partly because I enjoyed watching Constance Zimmer and she made Claudia likeable. Do I ship it? No. Was it a problematic dynamic? Yes. Was it a tolerable relationship? Eh. I didn’t hate it entirely though. Debbie, being a Gallagher, eventually fucked it up. And while I did like the drama, Debbie wasn’t REALLY into Claudia as much as she may have believed she was. So, it totally felt like a one off that would end with Claudia not returning... and it was. So there was no time for an investment of any kind.

10. Hedi (Season 11)

Gosh... Debbie’s endgame(?). Hedi was introduced too late for me to care enough about her (At this point it would have made sense for Debbie to wind up with Calista because at least she was already introduced!). I don’t necessarily like Hedi as a character and quite frankly it was a “who tf does SHE think she is” kinda deal for me. At first I was interested and didn’t hate her (and I don’t), but then she “thought she was Jimmy” and I instantly got annoyed (LOL I GUESS it was a nice nod to him tho... I guess).

My (several) problems with Hedi as a character aside, there IS something about Hedi being presented as this “dangerous badass” who is (somehow) WORSE than Debbie, that worked well. I’m not a fan of the ship, but it is an interesting dynamic in the sense that Debbie could potentially be “living on the edge”. I fear for what trouble this could cause Debbie BUT it’s like Frank referenced: Monica vibes. I don’t think it’s “true love” like Debbie said to Franny. A constant storyline for Debbie has been “why can’t anyone ever love me” and so she falls in quickly. Maybe Hedi will leave her but that’s the thing, “she’s done worse” so idk, either way I don’t think it’s meant to last! But I guess I don’t mind them being together! Karma’s a bitch! Will Carl tell her what Arthur found? Would it even make a difference?

9. Julia (Season 10)

I would have actually rather preferred her with Carl too! It was never love between Debbie and Julia, but the relationship did create good conflict for my viewing pleasure. UNPOPULAR OPINION, I didn’t mind Julia as a character at all. She was fine for me. I also enjoyed how ultimately SHE was only using Debbie in the end. Julia does admit later on that she was experiencing with her sexuality so maybe she did have feelings for Debbie at one point, which I thought was interesting. Debbie got herself into this one. At least Julia was more age appropriate than Claudia... (which is ironic since Debbie got in trouble for being with Julia when the age gap is MUCH bigger between Claudia and Debbie LOL I love it)! I also found Julia annoying Debbie to be amusing, that’s not to say that I liked her a lot either cuz I don’t!

8. Matty (Season 4-5)

Man do I feel bad for Matty! Debbie raped him and it was horrible. From the get-go when Matty was introduced the relationship was hella awkward!! And not only that but Debbie was a MINOR! Matty did do the right thing and said they couldn’t be together but a part of me will always feel strange that he WAS INITIALLY attracted to Debbie before learning her age. That to me is still wildly inappropriate. He shoulda cut it off. He did try to be her friend and took her to that dance which was cute but ahhh this was just a MESS all around. Cringe. At least he didn’t take advantage.

7. Henry (Season 4)

Speaking of Matty and that dance, Henry was supposed to take her. He asked her as a joke in order for Seama to inflict revenge on Debbie. If that weren’t the case however... DAMN THEY WERE CUTE! The potential that this relationship could have had! If only it wasn’t all an act! It was a “day worth of love” and sure that’s not enough for two people to REALLY be IT, yet there was something charming about their connection that I wish was real. Or idk maybe Henry could have reconnected with her later and apologized and it could have been revealed that he did actually like her... but that wasn’t the case. Fuck him!

6. Simon (Season 1-2)

Debbie was NOT interested in Simon at all but at the time he was almost like the male version of her. Their banter back and forth was fun to watch and he probably would have treated her well. It’s unfortunate that we didn’t get to even see their friendship progress. Their interactions were funny and he was a good guy!

5. Batiste (Season 10)

Y’all may not understand why this guy is so high on the list but a part of me wishes this character wasn’t a one off. Batiste is the dude Debbie tried to return her “unused” shoes to. If you can recall, he wanted a blowjob to take advantage of her. While this was a dick move (and the plot went nowhere) a part of me would have liked to see more! He did have an arc where he acted like an ass and realized that it is wrong to degrade women. I just think it could have been built upon and Emma may have had chemistry with this actor. There was something here that I didn’t hate and I felt it could have been expanded upon.

4. Little Hank (Season 2-3)

Debbie’s first real crush! It was interesting to see how he didn’t like her at first and then a “friendship/relationship” slowly started to develop after he gave her flowers. IT JUST NEVER CONTINUED! Little Hank was in no way the most upstanding, but it was cool to see Carl have a friend that Debbie crushed on (when she was little she wasn’t intentionally taking something away from Carl ie. Kelly, so I support it). Their interactions were fun to watch too! The fandom definitely has a soft spot for Little Hank! And at one point everyone was rooting for them to be together. Too bad we never discovered what ended up happening to this character!

3. Neil (Season 7-8)

The bathtub scene tho! Adorable! There was a short moment within this relationship that was super cute where the two of them really did seem to care about each other and may have both been in love. It goes without saying that Debbie was only using him, but they did have SOME potential and they found a common ground where they each benefited each other’s needs. Debbie once again was TOO controlling and self absorbed to make it work, but I don’t think she was entirely happy in a relationship with him. He deserved more respect!

2. Derek (Season 5-8)

Baby Daddy! I really did enjoy them together until Debbie took advance of him and Franny came into the picture, but at the same time that’s one of the reasons that Derek, as a character, has a deeper connection to Debbie and the audience. I always enjoyed their flirting back and forth and the relationship they had (the deleted scene with the card/push up game ahh my heart)! Debbie really did mess up due to her desperation to “belong to a family”, which is another one of her consistent character traits. She just went too far and tried to trap him. Then shit got messed up between their families. Derek did eventually ask for parcial custody and did have a desire to be a part of Franny’s life. Debbie said no and that plot line died until s10. Pepa!! Ahh! RIP to Derek, it was sad to me that he died. Definitely a character and relationship that I wish was incorporated more because I truly enjoyed them together.

1. Duran (Season 8)

Besties with benefits! Stop! Nobody talks about my guy Duran! Sure they both said that this relationship was of a sexual nature and that they were just a couple of friends but damn! The chemistry and dynamic was palpable! It is truly a shame that we didn’t get to see more of this friendship! They were on common ground and really did care about each other! I don’t know why but I really just LOVED them together! Duran was also in her friend group with Farhad and that was a group that seemed to have a positive impact on Debbie as a person. S8 Debbie was cool! These two complemented each other so nicely! Duran wasn’t by any means the best influence on her because he almost lead Debbie down a “Monica path” but come on, Hedi is worse in that department. He was getting his life together like Debbie was with her profession. Just think of the hair convos Duran and Tami could have had Lol. Idk, I just like Debbie with him a lot! It was healthy to an extent and he was supportive of Debs with Franny.

#I could write so much more for each of these but I’ll spare you #guys nobody talks about the AMOUNT of love interests Debbie had over the course of this damn show #I miss characters with a lot of depth!#I want to do more of these relationship lists for other characters #my lists #my favs #shameless #gallavich #debbie gallagher #franny gallagher #sandy milkovich #debbie x sandy

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twoidiotwriters1 · 3 years

Text

Written In The Stars XCIV (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: This has nothing to do with the story I just want to say I believe in Bi!Fred Weasley supremacy -Danny

Words: 2,621

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: This kiss -By Faith Hill

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Unwanted Attention.

Their little trip to the kitchens ended up in a bad note when they found Winky drunk in butterbeer and Hermione broke, yelling to all the house-elves about their rights.

Least to say they were unpleased. They kicked them out, Ron was so angry at Hermione for ruining his chances at getting more free food that they didn't stop bickering for the rest of the day.

Normally, Mel and Harry would've complained and roll their eyes, but considering this as a huge opportunity to finally spend time alone, they left the angry pair in the common room and went to the Owlery, where they sent a package filled with wonderful food to Sirius.

They stayed there for a while, leaning on the windowsill and talking. Closer to each other as the night started to fall.

"I wish things were a little bit different," Mel said wistfully. "I would take you on pretty dates, not caring about useless rumours..."

"I don't want dates, I only care about being with you," Harry shrugged, playing with her fingers. "Everything else doesn't really matter... unless it does to you?"

"Not really... I'd love to have a quieter time in school, but that's impossible when you're here," She teased. "You bring nothing but trouble, Potter."

"You like it, though," He smirked. "At least a bit, if you've stuck around for so long, I doubt it annoys you that much..."

"What d'you want me to say?" She scrunched up her nose, knowing the question would only make him even keener to tease.

"I'd love to hear that you like me," He replied boldly. "Don't you like me?"

She caught his hand playfully and stroked the back of it, humming to herself.

"Do you?" She finally questioned.

"I like myself plenty," Mel slapped his arm playfully and he laughed. "I fancy you a lot."

"You know," She looked away. "I really like this weather."

She fixed her eyes on Hagrid digging outside his cabin, perhaps planting something.

"I like you," Harry beamed, his hand closing around hers. "I also like to say that I like you, feels good to admit it."

"Been dreaming about this for a while, have you?" Mel smiled, still not looking at him. She was trying to keep her composure, even though the air felt charged and it was getting harder to breathe.

"You haven't?"

Madame Maxime got out of her carriage and walked to Hagrid, seemingly trying to start a conversation.

"Not at all," She said absently. Harry stiffened beside her and she giggled.

"You're funny..." He pouted. Unexpectedly, he reached for her waist with his free arm and pulled her closer. "Really, you crack me up."

Hagrid responded to whatever the woman was saying but he didn't talk much. In the end, the woman walked back to her carriage looking defeated.

"I think Madame Maxime regrets what she did to Hagrid," She said. Harry, who'd been half-looking at the scene as well as shamelessly flirting with her, nodded with very little interest.

"Guess she realized how stupid it's to worry about what others think..."

"Isn't that kind of the same to what we're doing?" Mel frowned.

"What d'you mean?"

"We're hiding from all of our loved ones. We care about what others think."

Harry came out of his daze then, blinking in confusion.

"This is different. We're not hiding because we're afraid, we do it 'cause we know Skeeter would bring it out of context."

"Okay then, why do we hide it from Ron and Hermione?"

"Well," Harry looked away. "I don't know..."

"We know they'd be happy for us..."

"Yeah."

"Then why do we hide it?"

"We don't want to ruin it," Harry shrugged. "You know what I mean, I won't try to explain it."

She smiled at how easy it was to talk to Harry now that they knew about their feelings.

"You know, sometimes you can be clever..."

He scoffed, shaking his head in amusement.

"Look at you, all cute and frustrated," She cupped his face with her free hand and squeezed his cheek lovingly.

"Quiet, Mellow."

However, before she could decide whether or not to be quiet, Harry leaned further and kissed her.

Mel wasn't expecting to see any reaction from her classmates when the article about Hermione and Harry's relationship spread around school. Few people believed it, but the most they would do was stare, wondering how come Harry was so comfortable around her despise his 'heartbreak'.

She knew –because Erick told her– that most people were confused, they'd thought that Harry and Mel were the ones dating. Now that those rumours had been killed by the article and none of the people involved were interested in clearing things out, the interest has worn out, most students moved on; Harry and Mel were being less watched, which gave opportunities to sneak away from prying eyes more often. However, they completely forgot that it wasn't only the Hogwarts students receiving these articles and reading them in their spare time. On Monday morning, they got a very unpleasant surprise.

Hermione mentioned a subscription to the Daily Prophet and was waiting to get it when an owl came down to their table.

"How many subscriptions did you take out?" said Harry when four other owls landed next to the one.

"What on earth—?" Hermione took one of the envelopes. Mel took another and examined it. "Oh really!" Her friend scoffed.

"What's up?" said Ron.

"It's — oh how ridiculous —"

She handed the letter to Harry, it was a bunch of letters from a newspaper cut out and rearranged messily:

'You are a WickEd giRL. HarRy PotTER desErves BeTteR. GO back wherE you cAMe from mUGgle.'

"They're all like it! 'Harry Potter can do much better than the likes of you...' 'You deserve to be boiled in frog spawn...' Ouch!" A liquid with a strong smell came out of the last letter she'd opened and poured over the girl's hands.

"Undiluted bubotuber pus!" Ron winced.

"Ow!" Hermione teared up, trying to clean up her own hands.

"Don't spread it!" Mel stopped her, she took Hermione's arm and helped her up.

"You'd better get up to the hospital wing," said Harry, looking at her in concern. "We'll tell Professor Sprout where you've gone..."

Mel made an attempt to follow her but Hermione mumbled 'Get rid of the rest', before hurrying out of the Great Hall.

"I warned her! I warned her not to annoy Rita Skeeter! Look at this one..." Ron picked one up and read in horror. "'I read in Witch Weekly about how you are playing Harry Potter false and that boy has had enough hardship and I will be sending you a curse by next post as soon as I can find a big enough envelope.' Blimey, she'd better watch out for herself."

"Who do they think they are?" Mel asked in anger. "Feeling entitled to attack a fourteen-year-old without knowing the whole story!"

When they were heading to Care of Magical Creatures, Pansy talked from a few feet away:

"Potter, have you split up with your girlfriend? Why was she so upset at breakfast?"

"She found out your brain's beyond repair and that just broke her," Mel spat, pulling her friends forward.

They studied nifflers for Hagrid's class, made a funny little competition out of it, which Ron surprisingly won. However, for some reason that didn't please him. Hermione got back at the end of the class with her hands completely bandaged and informed Hagrid about her misfortune.

"Aaah, don' worry," Hagrid replied softly. "I got some o' those letters an' all, after Rita Skeeter wrote abou' me mum. 'Yeh're a monster an' yeh should be put down.' 'Yer mother killed innocent people an' if you had any decency you'd jump in a lake.'.. Yeah, they're jus' nutters, Hermione. Don' open 'em if yeh get any more. Chuck 'em straigh' in the fire."

Ron was unusually quiet, frowning at the prize he'd won in Hagrid's class (a chocolate bar from Honeydukes).

"What's the matter? Wrong flavour?" Harry asked gently.

"No... Why didn't you tell me about the gold?"

"What gold?"

"The gold I gave you at the Quidditch World Cup. The leprechaun gold I gave you for my Omnioculars. In the Top Box. Why didn't you tell me it disappeared?"

Harry and Mel shared a look before they finally remembered what was he talking about.

"Oh! I dunno... I never noticed it had gone. I was more worried about my wand, wasn't I?"

"Must be nice," Ron said quietly. "To have so much money you don't notice if a pocketful of Galleons goes missing."

"Listen, I had other stuff on my mind that night," Harry replied sternly. "We all did, remember?"

"I didn't know leprechaun gold vanishes," He said with embarrassment. "I thought I was paying you back. You shouldn't've given me that Chudley Cannon hat for Christmas."

"Forget it, all right?" Harry insisted.

Ron stared intently at the food of his plate and mumbled, "I hate being poor. It's rubbish. I don't blame Fred and George for trying to make some extra money. Wish I could. Wish I had a niffler."

"You're not poor," Mel patted his hand lovingly. "Not in the ways that matter– look at Malfoy, he has all that money and he's always in a terrible mood. He's got terrible friends as well."

"Yeah, but it wouldn't hurt if I could buy new things for once, would it?" He pouted.

"Well, we know what to get you next Christmas," Hermione tried to lighten the mood. "Come on, Ron, it could be worse. At least your fingers aren't full of pus? I hate that Skeeter woman! I'll get her back for this if it's the last thing I do!"

With the arrival of Hermione's hate mail also came a new wave of interest for Harry's love life, which meant they had to go back to the stage of walking on their tiptoes to avoid any unwanted attention, and it was driving them mad.

Hermione grew obsessed with finding out how Skeeter was getting all the information, Harry suggested that maybe she'd put microphones around the school but Hermione quickly brushed it away, reminding them about how that sort of Muggle technology was of no use around school.

The teachers were handing them more and more work as the end of the year started to inch closer. Mel and Dumbledore finally moved on from wandless spells to tracing hidden magic and she was doing splendidly well, mostly because she wanted to get everything done so they could start with her animagus studies.

The last days of May, Harry and Mel were in the library discussing Percy's letter while searching for some books for her lessons. Ron didn't want to join them and Hermione was busy with her research, so they found themselves in the bliss of another moment for the two of them only.

"Percy's in denial, he's too fond of his new position," Mel commented as she reached for a book in a higher shelf. "He's a pain, too young to be given all that power..."

"I thought you admired Percy," Harry replied.

"I appreciated his dedication while he was in school but I this is getting out of hand, something tells me he's not apt for the job."

"I reckon he strongly disagrees," Harry took the books as Mel handed the lot to him.

"Well, we're as close to figuring that out as we are to finish our assignments. I can't wait to be back home next month!" She tried to take the books from Harry's hands, but he refused to let go. "Just imagine– Glasses, knock it off! I'm capable of carrying my books!– As I was saying... picture us with all the time in the world to do whatever we want..."

"We could go to the movies!" Harry offered. "I have no muggle money, but maybe Emily could take us to Gringotts so I can exchange a few galleons..."

"I like the sound of that, we're old enough to do so," She happily walked up to the table on the corner.

"Been dreaming about it, have you?" Harry teased. She left the books on the table and stopped.

"What I've been dreaming of," Mel said carefully, "is for the tournament to end. I feel like I'll only be able to rest once it's over."

"I haven't been terrible in it, have I?" He tilted his head.

"You know I don't mean that," She lifted a hand and pushed some strands of hair away from his eyes. He sighed shortly, leaning into her hand instinctively.

"Just one more task," Harry said quietly. "Then it'll be over."

She nodded in silence, that wasn't the only thing she was thinking. Mel was hoping for the moment when they would finally be together in peace, without articles and journalists nagging around... Mel moved her hand from his cheek to the back of his neck and, catching him off guard, kissed him.

This one, though still innocent and short, conveyed all the emotions she was feeling. A loud thud startled them and caused her to bump noses with Harry. She heard him grunt as she held onto her own nose, tearing up a bit.

"My apologies!" A voice came from behind. "Did I take you by surprise? Well, I dare say you're not the only ones..."

"Not you," Mel groaned. "Why, of all the people that could've found us it ended up being you..."

"It's a gift," Erick smiled with no hints of shame, sitting down at the table they were planning to take. "It gives me the opportunity to eavesdrop a bit, and Merlin, it's always worth it."

"You can't tell anyone!" She hissed, finally letting go of her nose. "Not even Hermione!"

His eyes widened in wild interest. "Why, is this the first time that happens?" He looked at Harry. "Well, it certainly didn't look like it. Most of us think you're almost married. What is it?"

Mel felt so stupid, caught red-handed after all their efforts...

"You know what Skeeter would do with the information, now more than ever," She grumbled.

"That doesn't sound fun, does it?" Erick inquired, she'd never seen him so ecstatic.

"Just keep your mouth shut, will you?" Harry spat, his voice came out muffled since he was covering his mouth. Mel was about to scold him when Erick let out a hearthy laugh.

"Never been one to gossip– I'm happy for you though, it's been exasperating, flirting with Mel without her noticing to get a response from you. I had to hold back from getting involved so often!"

"That was you holding back?" Mel scoffed. "Can't imagine what unrestrained would look like... What are you doing here?"

"This is a library," He replied with a grin. "Believe it or not, I study without you."

"Okay then, study."

"I'm about to, this is my table."

"I don't see your name on it–"

"We can share it–"

"Not after what you just saw, I won't tolerate your teasing," Mel blushed furiously, picking up her books. "We'll go back to the tower, Harry, c'mon..."

"Be my guest," Erick half-bowed from his seat.

"You're enjoying this too much," She glared at him.

"Haven't even reached the I-told-you-so phase, you've seen nothing," He retorted. "Take your girlfriend before she sets the library on fire, Potter."

Harry rolled his eyes at the pair. He wasn't going to admit it, especially not in front of Flint, but he'd felt a pleasant boost of energy at the word girlfriend.

"Come on, Mel..." He nodded at the boy. "I hope to never meet you like this again, Flint. Bye."

"Have a good night, lovebirds."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

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wolf08 · 4 years

Text

Igniting the Fuse

A fic for @zutaraweek

Summary: Zuko can’t stand Katara’s obvious contempt towards him. Determined to fix their relationship, he asks Aang and Sokka for help, who, in turn, devise a series of team building exercises with the intention of sparking friendship between the water bender and the banished Prince. They hadn’t anticipated sparking something more. Pre- (and post-) Southern Raiders. Zutara.

Available on A03 and FanFiction.net.

Prompt: Loosely inspired by the prompt “Fuse” (Zutara Week 2020) Genre: Romance/Humour Words: 4293 Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender or any of its characters.

A/N: Hi! Please accept my humble offering to the ATLA fandom for Zutara week. :) I’ve only ever written fics for the Naruto verse, but I just finished ATLA last month and have been fangirling about Zutara and the Gaang dynamics ever since. When I learned that Zutara week was just around the corner, I just knew I had to write something. Enjoy. :)

***

Igniting the Fuse

Now that he was part of the group of vagabond do-gooders (who he used to think were his sworn enemies), Zuko felt a sense of contentment and purpose like he’d never felt before.

It had been an excruciating uphill battle filled with awkward encounters and blows exchanged to finally convince them that he was on their side. But he’d persevered because Zuko just knew he was destined to be here, with them, to support their quest of defeating his father.

Thankfully, in the end, they accepted him.

Well, all except for the water bender, that is.

Katara, the last water bender from the Southern Water Tribe, who had the biggest heart and kindest smile that Zuko had ever seen, utterly despised him.

She made no effort to hide this fact, with how she always sat as far away from him as possible, sneered at his (attempted) jokes, and ignored him point-blank whenever he spoke.

As the Fire Nation’s banished Prince with a prominent scar on his face marking him as such, Zuko wasn’t unfamiliar with this type of treatment. But what made it different with Katara was that (a) she was avoiding him out of pure dislike – not fear (hell, he’d faced her in combat before and knew she could hold her own against him), and (b) it was Katara.

Why did it have to be her who hated him, of all people? She was level-headed, compassionate, and strong, in other words, she was an embodiment of everything that Zuko wished he himself could be.

And, not to mention, she was rather easy on the eyes and nice to be in the presence of (though, of course, Zuko would never dare admit this out loud).

Perhaps the worst part of all of this was that Zuko knew her hatred was justified. After she’d let her guard down in the catacombs of Ba Sing Se by confiding in him and offering to use her few drops of sacred water to heal Zuko’s scar (a gesture that Zuko would never ever forget), Zuko had responded by siding with her enemy and trying to kill her.

So, yeah, Katara had every right not to trust him ever again.

But that didn’t mean Zuko wasn’t going to give it his best shot anyways. After all, he was a changed man now. He was determined to reconcile for his sins. Earning Katara’s trust wasn’t just something he wanted – it was something he needed to fulfill his personal quest for redemption.

Not that Zuko had a clue where to begin.

After numerous fruitless attempts to force an interaction with her around camp like some school boy trying to get a girl’s attention, Zuko realized he needed help fixing his relationship with Katara.

He cast a wistful glance at Katara’s tent before turning towards the sea, where Aang and Sokka were currently fishing.

Zuko sighed and ran a hand through his shaggy, black hair. Despite being a little weird, Aang and Sokka were the most helpful sources of information around, with one of them being Katara’s brother and the other being, well, the Avatar. So he slipped off his shoes, hiked up his pants, and waded out to meet them.

Their fishing tactics were a rather theatrical sight, with Anng literally blowing fish out of the water with some air bending technique and Sokka spearing them as they flung into the air.

Zuko cleared his throat.

Aang, who was wearing nothing but his orange underpants, beamed at the sight of him. “Zuko! Have you come to help us fish?” he asked. “It’s not really my thing, but Sokka needed a hand.”

Zuko shook his head, folded his arms, and proceeded to explain his dilemma. The other boys listened attentively.

“Have you tried being, well, nice to her?” Sokka asked with raised eyebrows. “Katara likes everyone. It shouldn’t be that hard to get on her good side.”

Zuko rolled his eyes. “Of course I’ve tried being nice! But I guess I just suck at it.”

After a moment of deep thought, Aang’s eyes lit up. “I’ve got it!” he said, clapping his hands together. “We’ll do team building exercises to foster trust. When Katara sees that you can trust each other, I’m sure she’ll like you more.”

But Zuko wasn’t entirely convinced. “This isn’t Air Temple preschool, you know,” he grumbled.

“No, no, I think Aang’s onto something here,” Sokka said with a smirk. “No offense dude, but your social skills suck. Structured ice-breakers are exactly what you need.”

“What? My social skills don’t suck!” Zuko shot back, but Sokka just shook his head, still smirking.

Then, in a deep, mocking tone, Sokka said, “Hello! Zuko here. I sent an assassin after you. Can we be friends?”

Aang covered his mouth to stifle a laugh.

Zuko’s eyebrow twitched, his face burning. “Okay, fine. Let’s try your stupid team building then.”

“Great!” said Aang. “Let’s start after lunch. We’ll handle everything Zuko, so don’t you worry about a thing.”

***

In an effort to gain Katara’s support for their day of team building, Aang and Sokka selected an activity that she was sure to enjoy for the first exercise: surfing lessons – an activity that was, quite literally, right in Katara’s element.

It wasn’t a bad idea, Zuko admitted and side-eyeing Katara’s enthusiastic response to Aang’s proposal of the activity. Her blue eyes were brighter than he’d ever seen them.

Shortly after, the four of them, with the additions of Toph and Suki, were gathered around the shore, with the girls in their swimming attire (cropped shirts and shorts for all but Katara, who wore a white skirt overtop) and the boys in their shorts. Then, Sokka explained that there would be no surf boards.

“No surf boards? How’s that supposed to work for surfing?” Toph asked, voicing Zuko’s concerns.

Katara stood, a smile on her face. “I’ll bend the water to make you float – you’ve just got to balance,” she said. Toph raised her eyebrows and crinkled her nose and Zuko made every effort to refrain from making the same face.

The water bender proceeded to demonstrate. With her feet pressed to the rolling waves as if she were on a solid surface, she jumped and glided in a shower of water droplets, her arms outstretched, like she was sliding through snow or sand. In a way, it looked like she was dancing, Zuko observed, and he wondered if he could really do that too, so effortlessly.

The demonstration came to the end and Katara approached the group. “All right – who’s first?” she asked cheerily, while wringing water from her thick, brown hair.

Zuko avoided eye contact.

“I’ll go!” Suki beamed and hopping to her feet.

And said Kyoshi warrior, despite not being a water bender, made it look rather easy too, in Zuko’s opinion, his confidence boosting ever so slightly. Suki jumped and twirled on the water, laughing the entire time, clearly having a blast. Sokka wolf whistled as Suki neared the shore at the end of her turn. She met his eyes and blushed before leaping into his arms with a big smile.

Zuko watched the interaction from the corner of his eye and wondered if he could ever get Katara to feel that comfortable around him.

Yeah right.

Aang went next and he glided over the water with ease (though it was hard to tell if he was truly surfing or floating over the waves with air bending). Even Toph took a short turn, despite her obvious discomfort over being parted with solid ground.

“Zuko’s turn!” Aang exclaimed after everyone had gone, like he was afraid Katara would forget about him.

Zuko caught her gaze and was met with an icy stare. More like she doesn’t want me to have a turn.

He got to his feet and sloshed through the shallow water before turning to the group in anticipation.

With mixed emotions, he noticed that Katara was smiling at him now, her eyes bright once more. What’s with the sudden mood change? he wondered while returning the smile with much hesitation.

Then Katara raised her arms and he was off.

“Whoa!” he gasped, arms outstretched for balance, while the water carried him upwards and backwards, towards the sea. He pivoted and widened his stance for stability, while he adjusted to the strange sensation of a rapidly rolling current against his bare feet, and his total loss of control over where he was going.

Despite this, before long, Zuko began to relax, leaning into the waves’ winding motions, feeling a thrill with each dip and jump, as he climbed higher and higher and farther out to sea.

And then – SPLOOSH!

Like a rug being tugged from beneath his feet, the water supporting Zuko vanished, falling back to the sea – along with said fire bender.

He fell into the water in a rather undignified manner, limbs flailing. When he came up for air, spluttering, to his displeasure, just about everyone was doubled-over laughing.

Zuko gritted his teeth as he swam towards shore, glaring at the mischievous water bender.

“Oops,” she said with a shrug, though she didn’t look the least bit sorry.

Well that was a flop… literally, Zuko thought with a grimace as he trudged along the beach and shook water from his soaked hair.

Aang had the decency to try to look apologetic though tears were streaming down his face.

***

“The next activity better not end like that,” Zuko hissed when the boys regrouped. “How about we try something where she has to trust me this time? Because clearly the other way around doesn’t work.”

“Hm. Maybe you can teach everyone something. What are you good at Zuko?” Sokka asked.

“Fire bending.”

“Well, you can’t exactly teach everyone fire bending.”

“Oh, I know!” Aang piped up. “Zuko isn’t a bad dancer. He nailed the Dancing Dragon formation.”

Zuko dismissed the suggestion immediately. “That wasn’t a dance! And you’re out of your mind if you think I’d ever teach dancing lessons.”

A moment of silence passed while all three boys contemplated their next move.

“It’s probably best if I don’t hire another assassin and like… save her from it. Right?”

“Yes, Zuko. Best we table that idea.”

***

Zuko felt a little more confident about the second activity that Aang and Sokka planned for the group.

“We’re going rock climbing!” Aang exclaimed and gesturing to the ropes and makeshift pulleys he and Sokka had fastened to the cliff side earlier. For the most part, in Zuko’s opinion, this activity far exceeded the last because he and Katara would be on relatively even footing as far as their bending was concerned.

“Everybody partner up!” Sokka instructed. “I call working with Suki!”

“And I call Toph!” Aang shouted, which garnered suspicious looks from both Toph and Katara. “I thought we could work on our teamwork?” he added to the earth bender sheepishly.

Toph smirked. “Whatever you say, Twinkletoes. Gosh, I’m popular, huh?”

Through narrowed eyes, Katara directed her attention to the person she was evidently stuck with.

Zuko tried his hardest to seem friendly, though he was suddenly uncharacteristically nervous. “You can go first, if you want,” he offered.

Katara lifted an eyebrow. After a moment, she said, “All right then,” and turned towards the cliff, her braided hair flipping over her shoulder as she did.

The rock climbing ensued, with Toph practically flying up the wall while she bended parts of the cliff side to jut out like stairs. Momo was doing quite well himself from a little further down, not even holding onto the rope, though Appa dutifully spotted him anyways.

Despite not having any distinct advantages, Suki flourished in this activity too, scaling the wall like a ninja. “Atta girl, Suki!” Sokka cheered on from below. She responded with a glowing smile at her rock climbing partner.

Zuko turned his attention to his own rock climbing partner, who was faring well, though not quite as well as the other climbers. Her movements were a little clumsy and she clung to the rope and handholds like her life depended on it. After all, with each step she climbed, the water bender ventured farther away from the comfort of the sea behind them.

There was no way Zuko would let her fall though, considering the death grip he had on her rope. He needed to prove he was the most trustworthy rock climbing partner she could ever have.

Taking a page out of Sokka’s book, Zuko decided to egg his partner on. “You’re doing great!” he called.

Unfortunately, his comment prompted an icy glare. “Are you mocking me?” Katara snapped, as she freed her blue sleeve from a protruding twig that had snagged it.

“No...,” Zuko snarled through gritted teeth.

This is impossible! I can’t even compliment Katara without her getting mad!

She proceeded to climb in silence without sparing him a glance, and Zuko couldn’t think of what to say, so he just sighed and frowned in her general direction.

How on earth was this activity supposed to bring them closer together now?

She’s probably clinging to the rope for dear life because she doesn’t trust me to stop her from falling, Zuko thought with a scowl.

But then he was struck with a brilliant (and morally questionable) idea.

What if Katara’s rope were severed… for some reason… and Zuko caught her?

Now, Zuko was no expert, but saving someone from falling seemed like the ultimate gesture of trust if you asked him.

Surely Aang and Sokka would disprove if Zuko deliberately severed Katara’s rope, but she was maybe only twenty feet up – so surely, even if she did fall, she’d survive.

Before Zuko had properly thought through his plan, he’d sent a barely discernible fireball – no more than a small collection of sparks – up the cliff side. It went undetected by the others, who were focused on their rock climbing tasks.

With the softest of hisses, the fire made contact with the rope about ten feet above Katara’s head. The rope began to fray immediately but no one seemed to notice. Until –

“Whoa!” Katara exclaimed as the rope started to give. She clawed for the nearest handhold and gripped it firmly while looking around with wide eyes.

Now, Zuko thought, dropping the rope and racing towards the cliff.

By now the others were catching on to Katara’s predicament.

“Oh no, careful Katara!” called Aang.

“Hold on!” cried Suki.

“Just drop!” Zuko shouted from below, his arms outstretched. “Don’t worry – I’ll catch you!”

Katara peered down at him, like she was mentally calculating the risk of doing what he asked. When she met his eye, Zuko felt a swell of anticipation for a reason he couldn’t quite place.

Then, something determined entered Katara’s eyes and she directed her gaze beyond him, towards the sea.

The rope snapped and Katara began to fall.

Zuko braced himself for the impact, his arms at the ready.

I won’t let you down!

And then – WHOOSH!

Zuko faced an impact but it wasn’t the one he was expecting.

An aggressive current of water slammed straight into Zuko’s legs, knocking him off his feet.

“What?” he gasped as he lost his footing, toppled sideways, and fell to his back. Spluttering, he watched in disbelief as Katara bended a neat stream of water through the air, stepped into it, and directed it towards the ground to safety. She landed beside Zuko with a splash – soaking him from head to toe.

Katara straightened up and regained her composure, brushing off the front of her blue dress, as the water drifted back out to sea.

She turned to Zuko like she was just noticing him for the first time. “Oh!” she said while extending her hand. “You okay down there?” she asked, eyebrows raised and the slightest mischievous glint in her eye.

Zuko accepted her offer to help him up, but didn’t have it in him to celebrate the kind gesture – he was far too embarrassed and couldn’t meet her eye.

As soon as he was on his feet, he retreated and stomped away. “I’m fine,” he growled while shaking water out of his hair for the second time that day.

***

“The next team building exercise will be different. We’ll use our words this time,” Aang decided during a brief rendezvous with Sokka and Zuko.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Zuko asked, eyebrow raised.

“You’ll see – I’ve got a plan. Just make sure you’re sitting beside Katara when we gather round the campfire after dinner. Trust me.” He patted Zuko’s shoulder and flashed him what he probably thought was a reassuring smile, but given their track record with team building exercises thus far, Zuko didn’t feel so confident.

“Fine,” he said anyways because he didn’t have anything to lose.

***

True to his word, after the sun had set, bellies were full, and Aang had summoned everyone to the campfire, Zuko claimed the spot beside Katara, even though he had to wrestle Toph in the process of squeezing in between them.

Katara gave Zuko a weird look and motioned to get up.

He grabbed her sleeve. “Wait – stay here,” he said before he could think better of it (and immediately regretting the motion).

She startled and opened her mouth to respond, but thankfully, Aang chose that moment to command everyone’s attention and start the activity. Zuko released a breath.

It turned out the activity was rather simple. Each person was required to share a compliment about the person on their right – and once everyone had a turn, they were to repeat the exercise in the other direction.

Zuko was skeptical about the cheesy activity having any effect on his relationship with Katara but he figured he might as well try.

He frowned and glanced at Katara, who was on his right, noticing the firelight dancing in her blue eyes. He would have to share a compliment with her first.

I’ve got one shot so I need to think of something good, Zuko mused while absently bending the flames from the campfire into little loops.

His first thought was to comment on her water bending, which was quite good as far as he’d seen. But would that just remind her of the times she’d used her water bending against him?

Then what could he say about her to get her to like him?

It was Sokka’s turn to pay a compliment to Suki.

He turned to the brunette Kyoshi warrior with a wide smile and an arched eyebrow, and said, smoothly, “Suki, you are as radiant as the sunset.”

Suki’s face lit up and her lips curved into a shy smile. “Oh, Sokka,” she sighed and shoving his arm lightly, in a friendly, teasing manner.

That’s it! That’s the reaction I want from Katara, Zuko thought, his chest tightening at the very prospect of it, but would complimenting her physical appearance have that effect on her? He wasn’t sure.

By the time Zuko tuned back in to the activity, Aang was telling Toph that she was the most terrifying girl he’d ever met.

Zuko watched the exchange in anticipation for surely the earth bender would take offense to the remark. But instead, she punched Aang’s arm and beamed. “Thanks, Twinkletoes!”

Would Katara want to be called terrifying? Honestly, Zuko thought she was the farthest thing from terrifying (unless she was really angry). No, Azula was terrifying. And Katara was… well, not like Azula.

Toph turned to Zuko next, gazing up at him with a cheeky smile. “Oh, this is easy. Thanks for the entertainment in the water today. I haven’t laughed that hard in weeks!”

Zuko bristled with anger for a moment, but when he realized everyone was chuckling, and he remembered that he would much rather them find him funny than evil, he swallowed his pride and smiled. “You’re welcome,” he mumbled.

“Okay, Zuko’s turn!” Aang prompted, and then, suddenly, everyone was starting at him expectantly.

Zuko swallowed. “Okay,” he said before turning towards Katara, whose arms were folded and was watching him from the corner of her eye.

Here goes, Zuko thought. He said the first thing that popped into his head, inspired by Sokka’s earlier success.

“You’re… as beautiful as the… ocean?”

Now, Zuko wasn’t sure what reaction he was expecting, but, strangely, no one seemed to react at all. In fact, the entire group was eerily silent, their eyes trained on him, including Katara’s.

Suddenly, Zuko felt nervous. I did something wrong, didn’t I?

He turned towards Sokka for support, but only then, to Zuko’s horror, did he notice that Sokka and Suki’s hands were clasped together.

Is Suki his… girlfriend?

That hadn’t occurred to Zuko, honestly. He’d dismissed the idea because surely Suki was too good for the guy.

But maybe he was wrong. Maybe they were so close because they were dating. And maybe, by mimicking Sokka’s behaviour, Zuko had inadvertently suggested that he wanted to date Katara.

He felt his face heat up.

I could use some of Uncle’s calming tea right about now.

Then, Katara was on her feet. She avoided eye-contact when she growled, “Really? Don’t have anything to say about my abilities, do you? I’m just some damsel in distress to you, huh?”

And then she stormed off, effectively ending the team building exercise. Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

I should have just called her terrifying.

He followed her.

***

Katara was perched on a rock near the ledge of the cliff, overlooking the sea and star-sprinkled night sky. She was hugging her knees and her shoulders were slumped.

Zuko approached with caution. “Hi,” he said when he was within earshot.

Katara glanced at him and turned away quickly.

He sighed.

Why do I suck at everything?

“Um, let me try the compliment thing again,” Zuko mumbled, not sure how much Katara was paying attention to him but going for it anyways. “My uncle taught me how to control lightning using the principles of water bending. I never really thought about water bending much, but since then, and since I saw what you can do, now I appreciate it more. It’s a… beautiful ability. And it’s strong. Like you.

“And that’s… what I’m trying to say.”

Katara glanced at him again, and to his relief, there was something kinder in her eyes.

This encouraged him to continue. “And I’m sorry for everything I did before. Please tell me how to make it up to you because I’m trying but I don’t know what I’m doing.”

After a moment, Katara’s lips curled into the smallest of smiles. She turned towards the sea. “You could reconquer Ba Sing Se in the name of the Earth King. Or bring my mother back,” she said sadly with a humourless chuckle, like what she was proposing was ridiculous. She buried her face into her knees.

Later that evening, after a brief consultation with Sokka about the story of his mother’s death, Zuko made plans for what would end up being the most effective team building exercise yet.

***

Many days later, Zuko found himself standing on a dock overlooking the ocean and a sunset painting the sky a glowing medley of pinks and oranges.

He had just returned to camp after a long trek with Katara to track down her mother’s killer, with the intention of executing revenge, but Katara ended up sparing him in the end – while still finding the closure she needed.

Zuko had learned more about Katara’s motivations and abilities on the trip, including her impressive repertoire of water bending feats.

To put it frankly, Zuko had no shortage of compliments to give her if they ever played that campfire circle game again.

And now that he understood Katara better he was filled with hope that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t hate him anymore. Though he wasn’t completely sure.

Katara was sitting at the end of the dock with her toes dipped in the water. Aang was beside her and speaking about the importance of forgiveness.

She got to her feet and faced the two of them. “Thanks Aang, but I didn’t forgive him. I’ll never forgive him.”

And then she turned towards Zuko, a smile blossoming on her face. Zuko’s breath caught in his throat.

“But you,” she said and drawing closer, “I am willing to forgive.”

Before he knew quite what was happening, Katara pulled him into a tight hug. Zuko was startled at first – hardly able to believe what was happening.

I did it! he thought in awe, thinking back to how envious he had been of Suki jumping into Sokka’s arms on the beach.

He smiled in spite of himself and returned the hug with equal enthusiasm, his heart racing.

But then, abruptly, Katara retreated. She stared at Zuko from a short distance away, looking positively radiant in the light of the sunset. A strange expression crossed her features. Embarrassment? Anxiousness? Zuko wasn’t sure. But then –

“I’m not flirting or anything, you know,” she said.

Not… what?

Katara seemed to remember that her hands were still on Zuko’s shoulders and pulled them back quickly. “I forgive you and that’s – that’s it!”

Zuko was still processing her words when she scurried past him, down the dock.

He gaped at her retreating form. “What was that about?” he asked.

Aang, who had been hanging back from the exchange, approached. One of his eyebrows was distinctly twitching. “Well, after the team building exercise around the campfire, everyone thinks that you… well, you know.”

Oh.

Zuko put his head in his hands, face burning. Something told him he was going to need a lot of help, and maybe even a new round of team building exercises, to figure out this new development in his and Katara’s relationship.

#zutara week 2020 #zutara week #zutara #zutara fanfiction #atla fanfic #zuko #atla #wolf08fic #my first atla fic #loved every second writing this

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sunmoonandeddie · 5 years

Text

spilled wine

pairing: king!bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3,346

summary: You’re nothing more than a servant who happens to warm the bed of the king. At least, that’s what you thought you were.

warnings: Some swearing, little bit of violence

a/n: This was written for @cametobuyplums‘s 2000 Plums Writing Challenge! Congratulations! My prompt was “Pour moi, c’est toi la plus belle : to me, you are the prettiest.” Also, shout out to my betas that basically agreed to read this because we’re in a group chat and I’m a brainless noodle that needs all the help I can get: @wastedavenger @curvybihufflepuff @siren-kitten-his @starwarsgazer Let me know what y’all think!

You were angry.

No, angry was too simple a word. You were vexed, aggrieved, irate. And you had every god damn right to be.

Well, kind of.

“What has you all riled up?” Wanda asked as she sidled up next to you. You were two peas in a pod with your matching servant’s dresses. They were slightly nicer than your usual uniforms, trading plain brown wool for dark blue muslin.

“Nothing,” you said with a huff as your eyes landed on the King, who was currently twirling Princess Natalia around the ballroom.

But your best friend was as observant as ever, her eyes following your gaze. “She’s beautiful.”

And she was, with her red silk gown that matched her fiery red hair. Gold was woven throughout the fabric, making it almost luminescent. But nothing could be more beautiful than her emerald green eyes, you were sure of it.

“She’d make a fine queen.”

You hummed in response, the bottle of wine sweating in your hands. “I’m sure she would.”

“You know, political marriages happen all the time, even with commoners such as us,” she said, her eyes searching your face. Her voice had dropped to a low whisper to ensure that no one could overhear the two of you. “It doesn’t mean there’s feelings between them.”

“I know.”

“Then why do you look so upset?”

Because I am upset, you wanted to say. But you couldn’t. It didn’t matter that Wanda was smart and had figured out about your little affair over a year ago. Or that she had told you that you would inevitably have to watch him marry someone else. When she told you that, you’d simply shrugged and said, “He only wants someone to keep his bed warm, and I am in no place to deny my king.”

“Y/N, please tell me what happened,” she said as she reached up to tug on one of the ribbons she had braided into the strands of hair that she’d pulled back into a half-up, half-down sort of look.

“We got into an argument,” you finally admitted as your mind flashed back to what had taken place just a few hours before.

“I have to go,” you said as you straightened out your hair in the mirror.

It wouldn’t do to look as though you’d been rolling around in the hay.

Granted, your virtue wasn’t worth as much as the nobility that walked the halls of the castle, but still. The principle was there. And someday you’d have to get married and there was no doubt in your head that your husband would want to know that whatever children came out of your union were his.

“The ball doesn’t begin for another three hours,” James said as he rolled out of bed. He didn’t even have the decency to get dressed before crossing his chambers to where you were standing, peering into his looking glass. He looked almost godly in the afternoon sun that was streaming in through the open balcony doors. “It wouldn’t hurt you to linger, my love.”

There it was again. ‘My love.’ The title that he had given you that would never truly be yours. It stung your heart every time he uttered the words, though you knew that you couldn’t say anything about it.

His arms wrapped around you from behind, your hands automatically clasping over where his rested on your sternum. His lips trailed soft, feather-light kisses against any bare skin he could find. His hair fell in a curtain around his face. Your eyes were locked on your own in the mirror. You wished for nothing more than to be able to stay right there, in his arms, hidden away from the judgmental eyes of the world. “Stay… for just a little longer…,” he purred.

“My king,” you said after clearing your throat. You knew how much he hated it when you used his title, and for the most part, you agreed to use his actual name when the two of you were alone. But right now, you needed to get your point across. You wriggled out of his grasp, turning away from him to pull on your shoes. “This needs to come to an end.”

The air in the room changed as he froze behind you. “What?”

You swallowed, knowing that defying your king could get you thrown into the dungeons or sent to the gallows. You could only hope that you had gained enough respect in your time together for him to allow you to keep living your life as you knew it. “This… This needs to end.”

“I heard what you said. I suppose I’m just wondering what’s gotten into you,” James said, letting out a chuckle as he tried to grab your hand. He clearly thought you were joking, playing a little trick on him before the big night.

But you snatched your hand away before he could grab it. “My king,” you said sternly, your voice void of any warmth. “Tonight you are choosing a queen. You are throwing an entire ball for it.”

“I don’t see how that means this has to end,” he said, his brows furrowing.

“I don’t think your wife would appreciate me warming your bed,” you replied dryly.

James rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the wall. There was still a playfulness in his eyes because he didn’t get it. Because he was a man and men get what the want, especially if they have a crown on their head. “My wife—whoever she may end up being—will have her own chambers, as is normal.”

“And what then?” You snapped, your frustration reaching its boiling point. “I will not—no, cannot—be your little plaything—your whore—for the rest of my life. One of these days, I will be married to a man who wants to be sure I’m not bearing another man’s heirs.” You could get in so much trouble for this. You could be beheaded, for God’s sake. But you didn’t care. You’d spent the past two years warming the king’s bed and you truly only had yourself to blame for the current situation. You’d lost your heart to him. You should’ve ended it the second you realized you had feelings for the man, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it until now.

“You’re getting married?”

And maybe it was because you were so pissed off, but you could’ve sworn he was laughing at you. “Yes, I am,” you said, your hands fisting at your sides. “To the blacksmith in the village.” You swallowed, willing yourself to stay strong, to not cry. “And he may not be rich and he may not have a title, but at least I won’t be a toy to throw away when he’s done with me.”

James scowled, his hands having dropped to his sides as he stood up straight. “I am your king. And regardless of whether or not you’re getting married to some commoner, I want you.”

“If you want me, then you have to earn me!” You snarled as you whirled on him. “I might just be a servant, but I am not yours!”

He was left completely silent as you stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Wanda cooed as she gently rested a hand on your arm. Because it didn’t matter that she could be saying, ‘I told you so.’ What mattered was that you needed your best friend more than anything.

Because underneath all your anger was a deep sadness, a despair that only came from a broken heart.

“It’s alright,” you said, though it was clear that you were more trying to convince yourself. “I’ll forget all about him once Adam and I are married.”

The redhead’s nose scrunched as she was reminded of your now fiancé. “I don’t particularly care for that man.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not the one marrying him,” you teased as you moved to refill some of the Lord’s cups. Plus, you could see the head of the kitchen, Vision, glaring at the two of you.

It didn’t matter that he was set to marry Wanda, he wouldn’t risk getting in trouble for two of the servants under his watch talking the night away instead of working.

The music continued to play as you moved through a few of the tables that lined the edges of the room, refilling goblets whenever you saw they were half empty or lower. There were a few sly comments here and there, but nothing too out of the ordinary of the sleazy men.

You were pouring more wine for Lord Rumlow when your eyes drifted up to the dance floor, only to find James’s eyes already on you as he danced with the princess. His startling blue eyes met yours, freezing you in place.

But you were pulled out of it by the sound of a someone shouting. You gasped as you looked down, realizing that you’d overflowed Rumlow’s goblet and that it was dripping all over him.

“You stupid girl!” He snarled. His hand swept across the table so that the goblet flew towards you, wine covering your dress.

There was no way that was coming out.

“I-I’m so sorry!” You said, stammering as you tried to mop up the wine with your dress. People were starting to take notice of the commotion, Wanda included. You could see her from the corner of your eye across the room. She looked more like a raging bull than a girl, pushing up her sleeves as though she was going to storm him herself. Vision appeared behind her, though, holding her back before she could do anything rash. “Please, f-forgive me, Lord Rumlow.”

A yelp tore from your lips as the Lord gripped your upper arms, his nails digging into your skin through your dress. He shook you harshly as spit flew from his mouth. His face was twisted into something so horrific, you were sure that he’d been possessed by a demon. No holy creature could be so ugly. “I’ll have you hanged for you insolence, you—"

“LET HER GO!” The king’s voice boomed across the room, and everyone fell deathly silent.

You whimpered as Rumlow’s grip tightened as the king stalked towards him, murder in his eyes. You knew there would be bruises in the shape of his hands in just a few hours. “Your Majesty, this worthless—“

“Have you lost your hearing, Rumlow?” James asked as he came to a stop in front of the two of you.

The man blinked in confusion. “What on Earth are you talking about? Of course not. This kitchen mouse—"

“Then why have you not put her down as I’ve ordered you to?”

The other man’s jaw clenched as he stared down the King for a long moment, before tossing you to the floor. “She spilled wine all—”

“She apologized, and spilled wine no reason for you to turn into a rabid animal,” James interrupted, his eyes still narrowed. He was making it clear that Rumlow wasn’t getting anywhere with his excuses. He hadn’t looked at you yet, and you didn’t dare move from where you’d landed on the marble floor. “Maybe we should have you for prey on our next hunt.” He sneered at the lower-born man. “Get out of my sight before I send my dogs out after you.” When the man was out of earshot, the King turned his head to speak to his right hand, Lord Rogers. You’d heard all about him while lying in James’s bed after a night of love-making. He was the King’s best friend as well as his most trusted adviser. “Ensure that he leaves, Steve.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Your cheeks flamed as you stared down at the floor, your palms pressed flat against the cold marble. You couldn’t look your now former lover in the eyes. Not after what had just occurred. You were a servant. You weren’t meant to be seen, and now every person in attendance was staring directly at you.

But James surprised you, getting on his knees so that he was on your level. “Are you alright, my love?” He asked softly, gently tilting your chin up to look him in the eyes.

“Your… Your Majesty, wh-what are you doing?” You stammered, eyes darting around the room to see everyone watching him. “You shouldn’t be—”

“Y/N, are you alright?” He asked once again, making sure to enunciate each word.

You stared at him with wide eyes, swallowing. “Y-Yes. I’m so-sorry about the wine, I—"

James’s hands rested on your elbows so that your hands had to rest on his chest. He didn’t care that the two of you were still on the floor. “I don’t care about wine. Or Rumlow, for that matter. What I care about is whether or not you’re okay.” He stared at you for another long moment before pulling you to your feet. “Dance with me.”

“Wha… What?” You blinked at him slowly, unsure that you heard him.

“Dance with me,” he repeated, though he was already pulling you to the dance floor.

“B-But there’s people staring, and my dress, and I’m just—”

“You’re just what?” He countered, frowning as he brushed his knuckles against your cheek. “Let them stare. I don’t care about a dress. And you…” He smiled faintly as he took in your features. “You are worth more than all of them put together.” He held out his hand to you. “Now, will you dance with me?”

After just another moment’s hesitation, you placed your hand in his. He nodded towards the band and a slow waltz floated through the air.

“How is Princess Natalia?” You asked as he held you close. You were avoiding his eyes.

“She’s fine, enjoying her engagement to Prince Clinton,” he said, though when you looked up at him, there was no cocky smirk that said he was poking fun of your jealousy. No, he was being completely serious in wanting you to know that he wasn’t interested in her.

But even so, your eyes drifted over to the many eligible noble women that had come to try their hand at winning the King’s heart.

“What are you thinking?” He asked, his voice barely audible.

“One of them is going to be your wife. They’re all rather pretty,” you hummed, unable to stop yourself from staring at the girls. They stood there in their fine silk gowns with diamonds dripping from their ears and their necks. Every single one of them was glaring at you, reminding you that you weren’t one of them. That you didn’t deserve to be dancing with the King. That he would never choose you as his bride.

“Pour moi, c’est toi la plus belle,” he said as he gently turned your head to look back at him.

You bit your lip as you followed his lead, surprised at how easy it was to dance with him. The most dancing you’d ever done was in the village square during festivals, and those boys were never any good at it. They spent most of the time stepping on your toes. “What does that mean?”

“To me, you are the prettiest.” Before you could reply, he twirled you under his arm and brought you back in. There was a thoughtful look in the depths of his blue eyes. “I’ve done a lot of thinking in the… five hours or so since you left my chambers,” he said, his voice dropping so that no one could hear. He knew how damaging it could be for you if someone heard that you’d been alone with him.

“Oh?” You prompted, not quite sure where the conversation was headed.

He nodded, humming as he looked down at you. “Did you know that my father was a lowborn Lord before he married my mother?” His brows were furrowed as he recounted the story. “He was the fifth son of my grandfather, who was the fourth son of my great grandfather. My great grandfather, James II, was a rebel that was pardoned by his king due to his lineage. But he was barely left with enough land and money to keep his title as a Lord.”

You were growing less and less aware of everyone’s stares on you as you simply focused on the man holding you. The man that you considered to be the love of your life.

“But my mother didn’t care about any of that. She was the only child born to my grandparents, the future Queen.” He paused, his eyes flickering over to the Queen Mother. When her husband had passed, she’d decided to step down and let her son take the throne, despite the fact that she could rule without him. She was adored by her people, loved and respected, just as her husband had been. “Anytime she told the story to me when I was little, she always said, ‘I loved him, which meant his title didn’t matter. He was born my equal. I simply raised him to my level in the eyes of the world.’”

Your throat felt dry as you stared at him, your heart beating so loudly that you were sure he could hear it. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I have never bowed to anyone in my entire life,” he said, drawing out the words as the two of you came to a stop in the middle of the ballroom. “Not even my parents. But I will bow to you as the sun bows to the moon every night, allowing it to shine for the world.” As if to show that he was serious, he bowed deeply at the waist, shocked gasps ringing through the air. His lips pressed to your hand before he came back up.

“James… What does this mean?” You asked as he straightened up once again. You thought you knew where this was heading but you didn’t want to get your hopes up just in case.

“Let me raise you in the eyes of the world. Let me show them that you’re my equal in every way,” he said as he slowly sunk to one knee. His eyes were swimming with tears as he looked up at you. “Marry me. You’re already the love of my life, my light in the darkness. Be my wife and my queen.”

You couldn’t form words. Tears streamed down your face as you rapidly nodded. “Yes,” you finally gasped out, letting out a bit of a laugh. “Yes, I will marry you.”

James got to his feet, pulling you into his warm embrace. His lips met yours as the room erupted in applause. When he finally set you down, he opened up his arms to present you to the room proudly. Wine-stained dress and all. Your cheeks flamed as you curtsied towards them, before remembering that you would never have to curtsy to anyone ever again.

“Come. There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” he whispered, his breath hot against his ear as he led you towards where the Queen Mother, Winifred, sat on one of the thrones. “Mother,” he said, eyes shining. “This is Y/N, my fiancé.”

You knew the Queen Mother, of course. You were the one who brought her tea every morning and every night.

She got to her feet, waving you off when you started to cursty. “None of that nonsense,” she said, pulling you into a hug. “Truth be told, I was wondering when my son would tell me about the girl he was so taken with,” she said, low enough that her son couldn’t hear.

Your cheeks flamed as she pulled away, but a fond smile tugged at your lips as your fiancé caught your gaze yet again.

James made a big show of bowing to you yet again. “My Queen, will you give me the honor of a dance?”

Your heart fluttered as you placed your hand in his. “I will.”

#bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #king!bucky #king!bucky barnes #royalty au #king!bucky barnes x reader #king!bucky barnes x you #king!bucky barnes x y/n #king!bucky x you #king!bucky x reader #king!bucky x y/n #king bucky barnes #king bucky #2000plumswritingchallenge

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janiedean · 4 years

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I was wondering what you feel about the opinion that GRRM hates feminine/non-warrior women because they (Catelyn, Cersei, Sansa) are written with intentional flaws while his warrior girls (Brienne, Arya) are not? Do you agree with that? That Brienne and Arya have no flaws? It was some dumb meta about how the world is against Brienne, but she never does harm to the world, so she's a bad character and GRRM is a misogynist or something. (1/2)

I disagree obviously. Just because Brienne is not a demon doesn't mean she doesn't have flaws or she's a bad character lol. Like... why can't we have an angel in a world of monsters? What's wrong with that? Are these people jealous that Brienne is one of those pure character that their faves are not, so they feel like dismissing her as a bad character to make themselves feel good? I'm asking you because I know you love Catelyn and Brienne so I know you're the best person to ask this. Ty (2/2)

... I mean this has a long answer to give but this *meta* seems to me like it was written by someone who has no idea what they’re talking about when it comes to who grrm hates in his writing or his supposed misogyny because they have it all wrong and I think you pretty much guessed the point, but in order, let’s... tackle this one by one:

grrm doesn’t at all hate cat and sansa and their flaws are... flaws in the sense that he’s writing them like good people who aren’t 100% perfect but like.. sansa’s *flaws* from the beginning are stuff that’s common to most 12yo girls in existence and she overcomes them and she’s generally a good and kind and caring person whose main trait is that she’s good and kind and stays like that so how exactly now she’s written... like you’re supposed to hate her? bc she’s not. grrm never wanted you to hate sansa. he wrote her like a realistic 11-15yo but like most of us were like that at that age or have had friends who were like that, so... what the fuck. catelyn.... like guys the one heavy flaw she has is her treatment of jon but she’s written as a smart person who’s trying to live in a misogynistic society as best as she can and she’s written like a tragic character but grrm obviously likes her/loves writing her, it’s.... like if you read her chapters you can see how much work/love/craft went into them and how he worked on her bg very carefully also she is more of a protagonist than ned until asos when it comes to the stark side like.... how is giving her human flaws meaning he hates her?? grrm doesn’t hate her. the fact that she and brienne end up doing the knightly/lady sworn sword thing is even more of a proof he doesn’t but more on that later;

cersei... well I mean grrm obv doesn’t like cersei that much but a) he’s written a version of that character at least thrice already including the asoiaf one so I think he has an ex like that that he doesn’t particularly remember fondly or smth but like... she’s written to be a villain. she’s a villain. she’s a very well-crafted/thought out villain with a realistic background but diff. from cat and sansa she’s there to be the antagonist period, and just like... cersei and cat are aesthetically the same archetype and they couldn’t be more different so idk wtf are people smoking when saying that and if they can’t read cat chapters without fandom-hates-her glasses idk what to tell them;

brienne and arya have flaws are we serious, like arya has the flaws everyone has at that age (too impulsive/tends to judge people very fast/is too fixed on things/doesn’t listen to people etc) but like she’s fucking nine when it starts and she gets traumatized to hell and back, like arya’s sl to me is creepy af because no 12yo should be like that and it’s a very good trauma exploration but like....... she has faults but she’s not a bad person for obvious reasons as in SHE’S A KID same as sansa same as EVERYONE UNDERAGE IN THESE BOOKS except partially joffrey and even he has a background that explains how he is, like.... arya and sansa are supposed to be written in an equally sympathetic but specular way because they have opposite ways of reacting to trauma ie sansa holds on to her kindness arya gets progressively detached because she has to kill people to survive but you’re not supposed to hate either of them? honestly grrm wrote them with the exact same stakes, anyone who thinks it’s qualitatively different needs to go back and reread it with some intellectual honestly;

brienne... I mean we serious? the thing with brienne is that she’s a fundamentally good person who is written to become the ultimate example of a good knight™ and who is supposed to restore decency to the title after the institution has crumpled into the dirt, so... she’s... good, same as dunk is in the novels, but like: lmao she has a lot of faults, first thing that at the beginning she judges everyone on sight and sees everything in black and white, she has zero preservation instinct and nonexisting selfesteem because she thinks her life isn’t worth her vows and she thinks she’s not fit for anything she tries to do and would have died for a guy who danced with her once like sorry that’s not healthy, which are all things,... she’s... getting over.... because she has a character arc, but saying that brienne isn’t realistic or doesn’t have faults is ridiculous because she is;

now, this concept that grrm is misogynist is idiotic because a guy who has an insane number of female povs - some of which are the same trope ie brienne and arya - and have all a distinct different personality and voice and none of them are like too idealized or too evil and are to a level relatable means he’s everything but because a misogynyst wouldn’t be able to pull that off. like, in any other book brienne and arya would have been the same character, in his they’re not, so maybe like... give him some credit in the sense that the moment half of your povs are well-written realistic female characters and the ones without povs are equally well-written/manage to be fan faves (ie marg and olenna) maybe he’s just... not... a misogynist nor hates women so that’s out of the way;

re cat and brienne: like... saying ‘ah he hates catelyn’ when catelyn is literally the first *lady* who treats brienne like a friend/peer/person she cares about is completely fucking idiotic because guess what if you’re like brienne usually most Attractive Girls™ the way cat is are not your best friends in life (I mean c. calls her a cow and they didn’t even meet on paper lmao and it’s obvious from b’s povs that she has bad experiences with other women in general), so the fact that cat actually sees her worth, accepts her as her sworn sword doing a thing that’s usually just between men, trusts her with her daughters’ lives, thinks she’s a better knight than jaime could be and treats her as it befits her station (in riverrun she had dresses made for her but brienne wouldn’t wear them) and is actually good to one of the few good people in these books who gets treated like dirt by most others should tell you exactly what grrm thinks of catelyn, ie nothing too bad, and that she’s a good person who fucked up on one thing that the narrative knows and doesn’t excuse, but like.... lmao that entire argument falls flat just for that;

Are these people jealous that Brienne is one of those pure character that their faves are not, so they feel like dismissing her as a bad character to make themselves feel good? you’re on to smth but as I ranted on twitter once: this all falls again to the fact that people Cannot Accept The Fact That An Ugly Girl Who Is Going To Stay Ugly is one of the moral hearts of these series and is An Actual Good Person Who Deserves Good Things in spite of not performing femininity, and who’s going to get the guy of her dreams (who is Hot) without settling and without becoming beautiful, and she’ll manage to realize her dreams even without becoming beautiful and regardless of having been treated like dirt because of her looks all her life, and like... apparently that is too much or too complicated to conceive and so either they have to decide she’s not That ugly or make her things she’s not or decide she’ll die early wow and whatever else, but like: the problem is that usually the Pure Moral Center Of A Story Who Happens To Be Female and gets her dreams and the hot dude is standard attractive. brienne is not, she has trauma because of that, and she’s still the best person in there (or one of the best) and she’ll get her dreams and the hot dude, and people can’t handle this specific concept nor admit that grrm, having done a thing that no one else has until now because there’s no other brienne in genre literature/in that way, is everything but a misogynist, since he actually, ah, wait, gave decent rep to people who most times are relegated to playing the best friend who stays single or are usually evil bc ugly antagonist women are everywhere, ugly protagonist women who are actually Good People™ and aren’t a paragon of Pure Virtue and don’t die virgins? not really. so: people can’t handle that brienne the way she is is a Good Person and The One True Knight In Westeros and it’s a sad thing but it just shows that maybe more people should go for that trope and that’s my two cents;

other than that no guy who can write the range of women grrm does can be a misogynist by definition, especially a guy who managed to get perfectly how it feels being a straight nonstandard attractive woman in society in general because my friends if before I stumbled into asoiaf I never related 100% to one fictional character ever there was a reason, and I read a lot, so people can bite me on that thing;

to end and comment on one thing:

how the world is against Brienne, but she never does harm to the world

congrats to OP they went THAT close to it: that’s the entire fucking point. being like brienne in her society (and not performing femininity™ correctly in ours) means that whatever you do people will criticize you and treat you like dirt even if you don’t mean them any harm. the world is absolutely against her because all the circumstances are stacked against her - she’s a woman, doing a man’s job, looking nonattractive and therefore other women treat her like dirt and men don’t consider her or see her as a threat and hate her for it because she’s better at their job than they are, wanting to be a knight which is a thing that’s technically forbidden bc women can’t be anointed as far as the westerosi law says, who’s doing that because she knows she’s good at it but every single person in her way doesn’t want her to succeed except for a handful, can’t use femininity to navigate the world and she has to survive as a woman in a men’s world in an extremely misogynistic medieval society and there’s a reason why no one but three people takes her seriously, ie that if you don’t count a few people in f&b that are history book material in her context/timeframe she’s an unicum and people tend to dislike it when you’re an unicum/sticking out/wanting to go against the system. the system is absolutely stacked against her, when everything she wants is do good to others and making her father proud and be a knight and find love, and even if it’s not that much to ask for her it’s, on paper, impossible.... and the entire point is that as impossible as it looks she’s definitely going to get it because she’s written exactly for that, and if people haven’t grasped that it’s her arc - overcoming a misogynistic society and living beyond gender roles regardless of your looks which in itself is groundbreakingly feminist - sorry for them but they’ll have a bad wake up call when grrm gets wow/ados out.

and that’s my two cents, but like: there’s nothing wrong in liking characters With Faults or evil ones and you can find Good Ones boring, just don’t try to make it pass like the author is a misogynist because the Good Character is a nonstandard attractive gnc woman because that’s actually a thing no one else ever did.

and this stated brienne is more similar to book!sansa than book!arya personality-wise so it’s an argument that doesn’t hold on even joking. /two cents

#brienne of tarth #janie writes meta #anti-cersei lannister #ch: catelyn tully #ch: sansa stark #ch: arya stark #idek #Anonymous #ask post

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Nothing but the Truth - Pt.7

The Break-up

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 3160

Summary: A fake dating AU. The chapter title sums it up the best. Steve messed up. Enter Sam Wilson and the door to Steve’s office: a saga… and Sam being the best bro.

Warnings: a lot of swearing, light angst, mild threats of violence, mentions of PTSD, references to last chapter (violence, torture), bro talk

Story Masterlist

For the second time in a week, Sam Wilson was on the mission to break Steve Rogers’ face; or, at least, to bruise it.

Then again, the supersoldier serum’s ability to regenerate cells was about as big as Sam’s irritation, so he might as well try the former anyway.

He had specifically told Steve not to do that and there he was, that motherfu- leaving his best girl-friend in tears; momentarily, his only best friend, because goddammit STEVE!

Steve Rogers just had to go and fuck up the thing that was bound to be fucked up – on a whole new scale, no less.

Sam burst into Steve’s office with zero regard to the poor door, an angry snarl on his lips.

“What the hell is wrong with you, man?!” Sam raved, hands balled in fists, ready, halfway raised by his sides.

“Listed alphabetically or chronologically?” Steve muttered under his breath and sighed at the sight of his fuming friend, not bothering to stand up from his position in the chair. “What is it, Sam?”

‘What is it?’ Sam’s brain mimicked in mockery and anger. WHAT IS IT?!

Was he serious or was he only pretending to be so dumb?!

“She’s awake for two days now-”

“I know,” Steve stated calmly, a stark contrast to Sam’s boiling rage. It only irked the pararescue more, especially since he could tell there was a barely visible wall built up in Steve’s mind, his true emotions locked in and the key to them thrown away. “Is she not healing properly? Is there something wrong?”

“Hell yeah it is! Its name is Steve Rogers,” Sam spitted out venomously.

To his great annoyance, he could feel himself slip into a therapist mode when Steve sighed and lowered his gaze shamefully; the shift in Sam’s attitude was only minute, yet essential. A change great just enough not to punch Steve yet. Momentarily, Sam hated that part of himself, because the need to approach Steve carefully and to get him open up was in a merciless battle with the instinct to protect his other friend hence socking Steve in his jaw. The inner turmoil only fed Sam’s irritation.

“She’ll be fine! That’s not what I’m worried about, dammit! She’s confused and fucking sad. Apparently, a guy told her he loved her – a forced confession, but whatever – and then never showed up to say hi even.”

Sam’s words were only met with silence; partly guilt-driven, partly stunned, partly because Steve probably had no clue what to say to his defence.

The image of one of the best women Sam had ever met, glassy eyes and short breaths as she had clearly been swallowing up the sobs of sorrow and confusion with a lovely mixture of brewing PTSD popped up in Sam’s head and as if he snapped his fingers, his anger was back. He himself had been a picture of misery, when she had told him about everything that happened.

She had told him everything, because she believed he would have a better insight into Steve’s baffling behaviour, a better idea of whether he had lied when he had admitted that he loved her.

Sam had refused to give her a satisfying answer, mostly because he wanted to give Steve a black eye for ghosting her like a coward. He had simply claimed that it was not his place to say and that Steve had been busy these days; which he was. She didn’t need to know what he was busy with.

“I was there,” Steve remarked shyly, at least having the decency to sound as if he was aware that he was being an idiot.

Good.

Well, not good, but a good start, something Sam could possibly work with.

Still, he couldn’t but roll his eyes at the poor argument made.

“Yeah, when she was asleep,” Sam fired back, crossing his arms on his chest. “That doesn’t really count. Not even when you fall asleep in that chair, waiting for her to wake up. You need to actually talk to her, Steve.”

“About what?”

Sam honestly couldn’t believe this guy. He could sense the irritation rising in the other man as well; his frustration with Sam’s inability to let this go.

Sam hoped it was frustration with his own actions too.

“About how you feel, you dumbass!” Sam spitted out, unhooking his arms in favour of throwing his hands up. “Hell, about anything, just go and stop ignoring her!”

Steve jolted to his feet so quickly he actually managed to startle Sam, enough to make his instincts to kick in-- and die as fast as when Steve leaned onto the table, not throwing punches.

“What’s your problem, Sam?! First you don’t want me near her and now you’re basically forcing me on her? Make up your goddamn mind!” Steve sputtered.

“Oh, please! Like my mind would ever stop you from doing anything! You promised me not to break her heart!”

Which was exactly what Steve was doing at the moment. Breaking her heart, leaving her doubting despite having confessed his feelings to a fucking polygraph; breaking her heart, because, for whatever reason, the blond dumbass was refusing to go see her or even contact her anyhow.

Sam’s heart was beating wildly in his chest as his brows knitted together when examining the other soldier.

Damn, he should have expected this outburst of his, he knew Steve was bottling things up and he could be a small (fucking big) ball of rage. Just like Sam guessed the reasoning behind Steve’s dumbassery and found it… partly justified, but stupid.

When his—friend looked away and visibly gulped, standing straight again except his hunched shoulders, Sam had his theory confirmed.

Sam had really been hoping this could have been solved by a fist-fight, he was, in fact, itching for it. It seemed that talking would have to do.

Thought he wouldn’t dismiss the punching just yet.

Sam sighed, eyeing the other man. “You already said yes, Steve. Why are you sitting on your ass here instead of letting her admit her feelings to you too and have your happily ever after?”

The supersoldier shook his head inconspicuously and slowly seated himself back into the safety of his leather chair.

“I can’t, Sam. I--I just can’t,“ he whispered hoarsely, opening the door to his heart an inch, enough for Sam to unwillingly and yet very much eagerly slip his fingers in and take a look.

He dropped to the opposite chair, knowing that the table was what Steve needed between them; a barrier.

For some people, it would be one of the things discouraging them from talking, denying them the feeling of connection with the therapist. For Steve Rogers, who kept the matters of heart close to his chest unless it was something which was pissing him off, it was the only thing that actually got him talking.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Sam sighed, already piecing an image in his head.

Silence was the only answer he got, heaviness falling on the pair of soldiers. Sam waited. He knew Steve needed to talk to someone about it, but he needed to start on his own, rather than answering specific questions.

Adding another barrier to protect himself, Steve rested his forearms at the edge of the table, fingers interlaced, fingers visibly tensing and relaxing several times as he fought to shape his thoughts and emotions. His gaze was fixated on his hands, absent.

When he finally spoke up, his voice was quiet, barely a whisper with a rough edge to it.

“The moment I saw her strapped to that chair—it’s… there are no words for it. And I couldn’t do a thing about it and it was just--- you weren’t there, Sam. I know that-“ Steve gulped nervously, his voice breath hitching. “I know you read the report. You saw her after, but—you weren’t there. Not when I lied and she got— she got-”

It was Sam’s turn to swallow nothing, the image of his friend being fucking tortured engraved in his mind vivid, his brain supplying him with what he had learned about her and what he had seen happening to other people.

His stomach clenched painfully, his jaw set tight. Yet, he let Steve speak, let him get it out of his chest, because he doubted that Steve told this to anyone. He had written a report, yes, Sam had read it, yes, but seeing it… yeah, Sam had an idea of what a toll it had had to take on Steve.

The blond’s eyes slid shut as he released a shaky breath. “I honestly thought he was going to kill her. I never—the way she screamed, Sam, I- I’ll never be able to unhear that.”

Sam felt his fist clench and unclench on their own account, an involuntary reaction to the imaginary punch to his gut. He had imagined tears-- and now her screams echoed in his ears, a picture vivid despite not having any memory of it.

“Yeah, I fucking bet,” he retorted as his own reaction to the horror image took over, visceral, nausea tickled his stomach unpleasantly. “What’s your point?”

“You were right. I think I could have stopped Tony and Natasha if I really wanted – but the opportunity was just too tempting. And I fucked up. Big time.”

Swallowing his anger and ignoring the chill that was still running up and down his spine, Sam focused on the other man, recalling precisely when and how he had fed Steve’s guilt; misplaced at least partly.

“Steve, man, look-“

He did. Steve raised his haunted eyes to Sam, mad guilt pooling in them along with reflection of tears not spilled.

How could Sam not soften at that, how could he not let the need to comfort Steve win? More so when he continued, every word strangled as if he had trouble to even push it through the lump in his throat, yet they kept spilling, rapid fire of randomly voiced thoughts.

“I did that to her. Maybe not directly, but she was in that chair because of me. She was- she was in so much pain because of me. Because I couldn’t protect her, because I let myself- I let myself believe that we could be together, fake or for real, Avengers or not, but that’s not how this works. I can’t be with her, Sam. I can’t do that to her. She doesn’t deserve-“

“-an ounce of love?” Sam interrupted his guilt-trip. “A guy who loves her and wants to protect her so bad that he’s beating himself over something that wasn’t quite in his control? I know what I said, man, but… shit, I was pissed. I didn’t mean it, not really.”

“Sam-“

Sam stopped him before he could continue torturing himself; it was his own time to confess.

“Steve, you’re the first guy I ever considered to be good enough for her. And I don’t give my approval easily, trust me.”

Steve averted his gaze at that, eyeing his desk as he shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter. You said it yourself; your opinion might mean a lot to me, but I made up my mind…. I’m staying away. I already talked to Fury about future missions, looks like they need someone for a long-term undercover in Alaska.”

Blood froze in Sam’s veins, his brain short-circuiting.

His friend was going to do what?

“You wanna run that by me again?”

Steve shrugged, clearly aiming for a casual tone and missing epically.

“Apparently I’d make a great lumberjack. Let me grow a beard, dress me in flannel and I guarantee you no one will recognize me. Fury’s words, not mine. I think he has a point.”

Sam stayed silent for a few moments, his mind racing a mile a minute. This was even wrse than he had thought.

Not only Steve was hiding; he was about to silently disappear, without even a word goodbye, he suspected.

Sam didn’t know whether he should yell in frustration, punch the other man or bang his head against a wall.

He settled for trying to reason with Steve, a bold move considering how impulsive the man could be.

“I didn’t take you for a coward, Steve. I didn’t take you for the guy who walks away when faced with a problem.”

“I’m not,” Steve replied simply, tilting his head but not meeting Sam’s eye. “This isn’t it. I’m not. It’s for the best.”

“Please. Not even you believe that.”

Steve had nothing to say to that; probably because Sam was right and Steve was bullshitting both of them. Sam leaned onto the backrest of his chair, narrowing his eyes as he wandered just how to find a way out of this, how to convince his friend to stay, how to… how to approach that whole mess.

See? That’s what happens when you agree to fake date to catch a serial killer. That is, unless you actually die in the process.

“I think you’re afraid,” Sam started in the end, fighting a smirk when Steve blinked, clearly not expecting to hear that, not expecting Sam to read him so well. And Sam was pretty confident that he was right, okay. “I think that you’re afraid that you might fall for her further. That as much as you were already willing to die for her before, that little time you had together made you willing to live for her and that’s much scarier, because living is harder.”

He let his mind wander, sharing every thought as they ran by; and Steve didn’t dare to speak, his gaze falling back to the desk.

“I think that down there in that freaky dungeon, you had her life in your hands and that freaked the shit out of you-- which, not that I can blame you. I think that you’re scared that at the same time, she had your life in her hands as well, not aware how much of it she had, how much she meant to you. And now she knows-- well, she hopes, her belief is pretty shaken since you’ve been ghosting her.”

Steve had the decency to look up and appear guilty when Sam gave him a firm glare, still having nothing to say to defend himself; it seemed Sam truly was on the right track. Good. Now he could make his point.

“I think that you’re afraid of the power she holds over you and it doesn’t matter how many times I tell you she loves you too, because I think you figured that much already. This isn’t about you worrying about her returning your feelings, is it? You’re just scared that she has you in her pocket and that’s perfectly normal. But, Steve… I think we both know that there is not one person you’ve ever met that you can trust to use that power as wisely as she would.” He barely covered the smirk on his face at the final blow he was about to deliver. “That is, if you weren’t a chicken and paid her a visit before one of the doctors flirting with her realizes that the whole relationship was a cover and their path is in fact clear.”

“What doctors?” Steve asked distractedly, his head snapping up, Sam’s words working like a charm.

Yeah, Sam could not believe this man. The audacity of him. The ignorance.

He still loved him, okay, he was like a brother at this point, but goddammit Steven!

“Is that what you took from my whole speech?” Sam mocked offence, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“What. Doctors?”

Sam shrugged lightheartedly, pretending not to be bothered by a single thing in the world.

“Pretty much every single one of them. You know how she is, way too nice to everyone, giving them the wrong impression… but honestly, Laufeys is-“

Sam never got to finish his sentence. Steve got to his feet with a huff, striding from the office with determined steps, now having a mission on his own.

Sam’s mission was hopefully done here; and he hadn’t even had to lie much.

Laufeys was a guy who flirted with everything that moved. He also slept with everything that moved and was willing to submit, which was nearly everyone, because that guy had a silver tongue that got him just about everywhere; most of all, it got his dick everywhere.

He hadn’t dared to flirt with Captain’s fiancé though; not that Steve needed to know that. A slow victorious smirk spread on the Sam’s face.

He was still in the office, satisfied with himself and praying for the best, when Tony Stark spoke from the ceiling.

“Nice move, Birdbrain. Nice move.”

Just hearing the cocky voice of the billionaire dragged Sam’s mood down. He eyed the speakers, irked.

“Fuck you, Stark, I don’t want to hear your voice,” he snarled, heat boiling in his chest. “I’m still pissed as hell that you sent those reporters to take a picture of them in the first place, hell, that you hired a guy and got her burned. And forced them into that mess. I figured that since the damage is already done, I might fix some of it a least.”

There was a meaningful pause following Sam’s outburst.

“From the two of them, she was the first to say yes, Samuel, just saying. They were dancing around each other for way too long. Now they won’t and we caught a bad guy. Win-win.”

“Except that she’s still in the med bay, Canman,” Sam hissed, ignoring the pang in his chest at that. They thought she was going to be alright, no lasting damage to her heart or brain, but still. Seeing her in the hospital bed was awful, yet nothing compared to the sight he had been offered when they had all come to the rescue. “Get out of my sight before I give you a matching black eye…”

Sam Wilson was not proud of giving Tony Stark a black eye. He had wanted to give him a broken nose, broken jaw and maybe some more, but the stupid Ironman suits prevented it, so only one black eye it was.

“Mr.Stark wishes to inform you he wasn’t in your sight, only in your hearing range,” the AI spoke this time and Sam rubbed his eyes, suddenly bone-tired.

He rubbed a hand down his face then and sighed. “Funhouse. I live in a fucking funhouse…”

And he did indeed. The residents were all kinds of crazy, there was a huge-ass ‘A’ on the top of the building—a building which was a Tower for god’s sake and everything was ran by an AI--

Sam was not proud of his next words either, but if Tony Stark was being a privacy-invading bastard, so could Sam.

For a bit.

“Friday? Let me know when Cap spills the beans and how it goes, okay?” he called out lowly, instantly receiving a response.

“As you wish, Mr. Wilson.“

Part 8 (final)

Tags: @mermaidxatxheart @bobertswagert @kakakatey @ccolz88-blog @joeyrumlow @lovemeterwrites @jessyballet @bellaireland1981

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thoscheitrashdhawan · 4 years

Text

Love That Burns As Bright As The Fires Of Gallifrey

Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Dhawan!Master and Tenth Doctor x Dhawan!Master

Words: 2733

Summary: The Doctor and the Master crash on Earth, and end up meeting a past version of the Doctor. The Thirteenth Doctor is angry at him about Gallifrey, and the Tenth Doctor is just happy to know that his oldest friend is alive (because he was always the Doctor who would do anything to save his friend, no matter what he'd done.)

A/N: Some fluff, some angst, but it has a happy ending.

It had been an accident. She hadn’t meant to come here - the Doctor had simply landed the first safe place she could find in an attempt to avoid damaging the TARDIS even more than she already had. So when she stepped out of the doors (she would’ve liked to immediately flown away, but the room was filled with smoke and she needed to leave so the TARDIS could clean the air) she was surprised to see not two TARDISes, like she’d been expecting, but three.

Unfortunately, she only had herself to blame for this crash-landing (but she was trying her hardest to blame the Master, too.) She’d been angry, barely paying attention to where she was going, and she’d been determined not to let any other ships get in her way.

It was reckless. It was dangerous. And, more importantly, it was the way that the Master always flew his TARDIS, so it was hardly a surprise that when they crossed paths, they crashed straight into each other.

The Doctor glanced between their two ships, both of them leaking smoke and radiation, and when the Master crawled out of his TARDIS, doubled over and spluttering, she was relieved. (Was relieved the right word? Maybe that was taking it a step too far.) But despite that feeling (whatever it was) she was angry. Angry that he destroyed their planet, and angry that he hadn’t at least had the decency to tell her himself.

Maybe he’d been afraid of what her reaction would be. Good, she thought. Let him be afraid of me.

But although she wouldn’t admit it in the moment that the thought crossed her mind, she didn’t really mean it. If the Master was ever afraid of her, it would hurt. Because the two of them had been friends - after everything he’d done, he was still the man who used to be her best friend. Now, she could hardly look at him without the anger burning hot inside her. (As hot as the fires that he used to burn their planet, maybe.)

The doors to both of their TARDISes slammed themselves shut, and the two Time Lords found themselves staring at each other for a moment, before both of their gazes turned to the third TARDIS. It looked like a police box, so they both instantly knew it was one of hers.

The Doctor was desperate to leave - if she escaped the situation before the other version of herself saw her (would they be past or future - she was dying to know), then maybe she could avoid a paradox. But with the TARDIS trying to clear the radiation, she wouldn’t be able to fly it away, and if she left it here and ran off, then the other version of herself would see it. Before she’d had a chance to decide what to do, the Master was running over to her, rage evident in his eyes as his hand came up to wrap around her throat. Her back hit blue wood, and despite his painful grip, she rolled her eyes.

“Great.” She hissed, glancing to the side. (At least he’d had the decency to shove her against the door that the Doctor barely ever used, so she wouldn’t fall backwards if they opened it.) “Now they’re going to wonder who’s outside.”

As if on cue, the door swung open, and a younger version of the Doctor stepped out. (She should’ve known it would be him - each TARDIS exterior had slight differences that she should’ve recognised.) She didn’t realise how much she’d missed that pinstripe suit until she saw it on him. And she’d really had good hair back then, too.

“Who are you?” He asked, confusion written on his face. But his eyes quickly flicked over to their ships, and he instantly knew that one of them was his. He might’ve taken a little more time to figure out who was who if the Master hadn’t had his hand wrapped around her throat. “Ah.”

The Master’s hand dropped to his side. “Hello, Doctor.” He said, eyes softening as he looked over at the other man. As much as he hated to admit it… he’d missed this Doctor. This was the Doctor who had truly believed that he could be better - who had begged the Master to travel with him, even while he’d been holding him captive. (But he tried to convince himself that most of the reason he’d missed this Doctor was because he was pretty.)

It took the Doctor a moment to realise that he was looking at his old friend. Considering where he was in his timeline… it was painful, for a moment, but it filled him with hope. “Master.” He breathed, before a grin broke out on his face. “You’re alive.”

“Obviously.”

“How? You refused to regenerate, I held you as you died-”

Ah, so that’s where he was from. Well, if he thought this resurrection was a shock, he’d be even more surprised at all the ones that were to come.

“I know. And you cried.” The Master’s eyes sparkled with mischief - he was taunting him, and enjoying it - and the older Doctor rolled her eyes and pushed him back a few steps by a hand on his chest. He seemed to have momentarily forgotten about her, as all his attention was now fixed on the other Doctor. (If only she ever gave him her attention in the way that he gave her his.) But she was glad for the opportunity to move herself away from the doors.

“Of course I did.” The Doctor murmured, and the Master was slightly taken aback by the emotions in his voice. That one sentence alone was so different to the way that his Doctor would have answered, and he’d almost forgotten what felt like to be looked at with such love. He spoke as if it were something obvious - of course he cried, why would the Master even consider that he wouldn’t? And why would he ever assume that it’s something he would be ashamed of? “You’re my oldest friend.”

The Master sucked in a breath and paused as he stared at him, and the older of the two took the opportunity to speak up.

“We crash landed, and now we can’t go anywhere until they clear up the radiation.” She said, and the other Doctor nodded in response.

“You can wait in here. Wasn’t planning on leaving yet anyway.” He took a few steps back to give them room to come in. It was probably a bad idea - you shouldn’t cross your own timestream, they both knew that. It was one of the first things they taught you at the academy. But the female Doctor had done this before - she’d met past versions of herself, and even had thirteen incarnations all converge on Gallifrey, so she had a feeling that simply sitting in the same TARDIS wouldn’t be too big of a deal. But the other Doctor hadn’t done this before, and he didn’t know if it was safe.

But he’d still offered, because getting to see the Master again was worth the risk of ripping the universe apart.

As the two of them walked inside, their faces were graced with fond smiles. They’d both regenerated in this TARDIS, a long time ago, and that meant they were strangely attached to this layout. (Since this wasn’t his own TARDIS, it was considerably stranger for the Master to like it in the way he did.)

“So, I become you? How do I end up like that?” The Doctor asked, gesturing towards her. He was mainly referring to the rainbow, they both knew.

“Don’t know - I just quite liked it.” A pause, and then she smiled and ran her fingers over the lapels of his trenchcoat. “But I missed that coat. Missed it enough that I went and got one that felt similar.” She held the material of her jacket away from her body for a second as she looked down at it. “What do you think?”

He looked her up and down, then put his hands in the pocket of his own coat. “I like mine better.” But he had to admit, she looked good in that one. Though he’d always have a soft spot for this particular outfit.

Meanwhile, the Master had wandered over the back of the room, and was leaning against a doorframe, half in the console room and half in the hallway. “Are neither of you going to offer to make me a cup of tea?” He asked, promptly vanishing down the hallway, and the Doctors instantly ran after him. After all, it wasn't a good idea to let the Master run wild in their TARDIS. (Though hopefully he’d understand that the Doctor’s past was not to be meddled with.) “I made you and your pets tea when you were in my TARDIS.” They may not have known it was a TARDIS at the time, but it still counted.

The Doctor didn’t seem to understand that last comment since he didn’t have any context for it, so he hoped that it meant the two of them were working together. Or that they had worked together, at some point. (Why else would she take her companions into his TARDIS?)

When her younger self glanced at her with that hopeful and ever so optimistic look in his eyes, the Doctor knew exactly what he wanted. Some time alone with the Master would make him feel so much better after having to watch him die, even if he wouldn’t remember it. And who was she to deny a grief stricken man a few minutes of happiness? (Because no matter what happened, this Doctor would always be happy simply to spend time with him.)

“I’ll go make some.” She offered, and she was gone before either of them had a chance to thank her. (Not that the Master would’ve even thought to thank her for anything.)

The Master may have only been on the TARDIS once while it had this layout, but after he’d regenerated he’d taken the time to have a good look around. Now, he was especially glad for that, because he was able to easily locate a room with a comfy looking sofa, a fireplace, a table, and a tv. There was a bookshelf in the back corner of the room, and all of those things put together gave the place a calming atmosphere.

It took the Doctor a few minutes to find them again when she was returning with three cups of tea carefully balanced on a tray, but she really didn’t mind. After all, she was still angry with the Master, and every moment without his presence was a gift. She hated him. (And as soon as she calmed down, she’d go back just hating that she loved him, instead.)

When she walked back into the room, what she saw surprised her. The Master was curled up at one end of the sofa, and the Doctor was hugging him, resting his chin on the top of the other man’s head. At first, she wondered why they were sitting in silence, but when her eyes landed on the Master’s tear stained face, she understood. They’d been talking, she supposed - having a proper heart(s) to heart(s).

Her tenth incarnation had seemed to be the happiest of all of them, though he carried so much pain and regret in hearts. He’d simply learned how to hide it, though he had occasionally let pure anger shine through. When he’d saved the humans on Mars and declared himself the Time Lord Victorious, he’d leaned into the rage; let it fuel his actions, and for a brief moment, he’d felt powerful. It had been the same feeling that had flashed through him when destroying Gallifrey, though he hadn’t wanted to admit it. (It had made him swear to never hurt anyone again, because he knew that inflicting pain could be addictive, and he wasn’t always as strong as he wanted to be.)

So when The Oncoming Storm dropped his usual grin and turned his anger on someone, it would make them run. (He’d use this track record to save Missy one day, and the Doctor could firmly say that was the only good thing to come of it.)

But now, some of that anger was turned towards his future self. “What did you do to him?” He mouthed, fixing her with a death glare that would’ve made anyone else take off running. Instead, she simply gave him an exasperated eye roll.

Whatever the two of them had talked about while she was out of the room, it had obviously been painful, if it had made the Master break into tears so easily. (Although he had always been worse at keeping his emotions in check.) But then, she thought, he had almost looked like he was going to cry on the hologram he left her, so maybe it was easier to make him cry than she’d expected.

Or maybe, said a voice in the back of her head, he told him the secret that had seemed to shake him to his very core. Maybe I knew the secret that forced him to destroy our planet hundreds of years before he even did it.

But the Doctor was still looking at her expectantly, waiting for an answer, so she pushed all speculation to the back of her mind and tore her eyes away from the tears that were sliding down his cheeks. Looking at the two of them sitting like that was painful, anyway. (It made her wonder if she could’ve avoided their recent problems by simply sitting him down and offering him a hug.)

“He burned Gallifrey.” She whispered by way of explanation (it wasn’t what he’d asked, but it was meant to prove that he deserved the way she had treated him - the way that she had given up on him.) Her words were quickly followed by a sigh.

Seeing them like this - upset, angry, and finding comfort in each other - made her realise that she truly was the Doctor who gave up. She’d fought for justice where she had needed to, but as soon as the Master had appeared she’d tried to stop him by any means necessary. At least his other incarnations had gotten an inspiring speech about how to be a good person before she’d convinced herself that there was no saving them. Maybe she should’ve tried harder to emotionally connect with him, this time round.

Her younger self didn’t seem surprised by the revelation about their planet, so she assumed that he had already told him.

“So did we.”

Well, he had a point there.

He wasn’t suggesting that the Master was right for what he did, but he was saying that he deserved a second chance. (Though it was more like his twentieth.)

This Doctor had always tried to connect with the Master - he’d taken every opportunity to try and bond with him, even when trapped in a cage - and now that he was finally reciprocating, he’d never been happier. Finally, it felt like he had his friend back, even though he’d used their time apart to do unspeakable things. (Maybe even because of it.)

Now… they had something in common, and it was the rage and pain in their hearts.

A soft clinking sound filled the room as the Doctor placed her tray on the table and came to sit next to them, with her cup of tea in hand. Neither of the other two made a move to reach for the ones she’d brought them, not wanting to break the closeness between them, in case they never had another chance to be like this with one another.

Sipping at her tea, the Doctor watched as her past self slowly stroked the Master’s hair, and she found that even just watching the action was relaxing. After a moment, one hand held the cup steady as she balanced it on her leg, and her other was reaching out to touch the Master; to rub comfortingly at his arm, even as he refused to look at her.

Despite the damage they had caused, she was suddenly glad for their crash landing. If it hadn’t happened, she wouldn’t have had the much needed reminder that, no matter what, the Master was a man who could be saved.

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