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aquagirl1978 · 2 years

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Things That Go Bump in the Night - Gilbert von Obsidian x Reader (Ikemen Prince)

A/N: My contribution for Day 1 - Modern AU of the "Different Universe, Same Love Content Creator Challenge" hosted by @xxsycamore and @queengiuliettafirstlady

Prompt: modern au

Pairing: Gilbert von Obsidian x Reader

Warnings: campy horror, crack fic, spiders

"Where are you going? It's late. Stay with us.”

You scoffed as you glanced at Nokto, who was sprawled on his bunk bed, eyes half-lidded and glassy. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” Clavis piped in.

Turning to your favorite mischief maker, you smiled sweetly. “Yes, but you will keep me up all night rambling about your ideas on how to prank the campers. How many traps Yves has stepped in this week? And so on and so on.”

“I need to bounce my ideas off of someone. And Jin... where is Jin?”

“He had to take a piss. Probably ran into a pretty lady on his way back,” Nokto said, his words slurred as he slumped further onto his bed.

“See,” Clavis pleaded, pointing to his drunk brother. “You can’t leave me. Not yet.”

“Sorry. I’m tired. And I am not staying in here with you guys, I’ll never get any sleep.” You grabbed your flashlight on your way to the door. “Goodnight.”

“You should let one of us keep you company on your way back,” Nokto said while attempting to sit up. “It’s dark out. You never know who or what is lurking out there.” Nokto, unable to remain sitting up, proceeded to fall back into his bed.

“Thanks, mom, but I’ll pass. My cabin is not that far away, I can make it there on my own. Clavis, you need to stay and babysit your brother. Make sure he doesn’t do anything silly. Like try to get out of the bed.”

Clavis stood there, pouting slightly, but nodded in acceptance. “Hey, if you see Jin, can you send him back here? I have some ideas I need to discuss with him.”

“Hey! I’m here...you can talk to...”

“Sure thing,” you said, stifling a laugh as Nokto snored loudly. You tilted your hand up in one final wave. “Have fun, I’ll be sure to send Jin over if I see him.”

Closing the cabin door, you flicked your flashlight on, illuminating the pathway before you. “Jin’s a big boy, he can find his way back on his own,” you muttered under your breath. Although it was pitch black out, save for the light the moon provided, you were not scared; this was a trip you frequently made with relative ease. In less than 10 minutes, you would be safe in your bed, tucked under the covers.

Snap.

"Ugh!” You flashed your light down below; it was just a tree branch you stepped on. A very loud tree branch, but just a tree branch. It’s nothing, it’s just a stick, you reminded yourself silently. After kicking the branch to the side, you continued on the dark path.

Careful to avoid any more branches, you slowed your pace, keeping the light bright. You smiled, remembering how sweet Clavis and Nokto were, concerned about your well-being. But the truth was, the scariest thing you could bump into tonight was Chevalier, whose bark was worse than his bite. But the chances of running into him at this hour were slim to none; his nose was most likely buried in one of his many, many romance books.

Plunk.

You heard a man groan loudly, his familiar voice coming from the same direction as the noise. Swinging the light in your hands around the tree nearby, your heartbeat quickened, certainly not expecting what you found.

“For fucks sake, Jin,” you whisper-screamed. “What are doing here? Your brothers were wondering what happened to you.” You offered your hand to help him get up.

Jin, a bit shaky on his feet, was rubbing his head. “I came out here to, um, take a leak.” Rolling your eyes, you waved your hand, urging him to continue. “And I dunno, this spot here just looked really comfy so I took a seat.”

“Jin, you were gone for over a half an hour.”

“Yeah, and I might have drunk a bit too much whiskey? Anyways, I sat down, and then this acorn decided to go and fall flat on my head.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Jin’s poor predicament. “I promised your brothers I’d send you back to the cabin if I ran into you. So, off you go.”

“Maybe I’ll go back to your cabin for a bit,” Jin offered, his hand covering the huge yawn that was trying to escape.

“Thanks, but Clavis is waiting for you. He needs to discuss pranks with you.”

“He has Nokto there!”

“Nokto’s not really all there right now,” you smirked.

Jin sighed. “Alright, I guess I should get going then.” With a wave, he bid you goodnight and headed back to his cabin.

Twisted around from your distraction, you swung the flashlight in a wide circle trying to make sense of where you were. You heard a noise – it's just another acorn, you told yourself – and glanced up at the full moon shining bright above you, wondering what other tricks it had for you this evening.

Crack.

Your head jerked towards the sound; your heart raced as fear began to build in the pit of your belly. Yours eyes flicked all around, flashlight following.

You felt it.

The skin on the back of your neck pricked. You felt like a rabbit being stalked. This was not like the other times. This was no random acorn falling from the sky.

You felt like you were being watched.

Correction. You knew were being watched. Straining your ears, you heard the light crunch of footsteps in the grass. Best case scenario, Nokto wandered from his cabin and you’ll need to return him. Worst case, Chevalier is prowling the woods, ready to scold you for being out of your cabin late at night.

Wrapping your arm around your body, you hugged your red hoodie tightly across your chest; your eyes scanning the woods for anything. Or anyone.

Continuing along the dark path, you heard another noise. A twig snapping, perhaps? You jerked your head, waving the flashlight in your clammy hands.

“What's that?” you called out. “Jin? That better not be you.” You heard another noise in the nearby distance. Flashing your light around, you tried to calm down, telling yourself that it was just another acorn.

You heard it again. Footseps.

Panning the light left and right, your breath became shallow as your eyes searched the shadows. You spun in your spot hoping to catch a glimpse of what was out there, only to end up dizzy and disoriented. Frustrated, you sighed as your ran a hand through your hair, wishing that Clavis would jump out from behind the bushes.

Upon hearing a faint noise, you flashed the light one more time. You screamed, nearly dropping the flashlight, when the light shined on a single red eye glittering in the moonlight.

“Did I scare you?” Gilbert asked, a friendly smile spreading on his lips. Dressed all in black, it was easy to see how he remained hidden in the shadows this entire time, his dark eyepatch masking another glowing eye.

Gilbert von Obsidian. He was a counsellor at Camp Obsidian on the other side of the lake that separated the two campsites. You had never met him before, but you had heard stories of the young man who wore an eye patch. Shrouded in mystery, you had assumed much of what you had heard was purely the gossip of bored kids. Smart as a whip, trampler of hearts, every story about him shared one common theme – avoid at all costs. But seeing him in the flesh, you found a part of yourself wanting to reach for him.

“What’s a lone bunny like you doing out in the woods this late at night?” He traced the outline of the Camp Rhodolite logo over your heart on your red hoodie, hoping and praying that he did not feel how fast it was beating. “You’re far from home and these woods can be a scary place. It’s a good thing you ran into me.”

You gritted your teeth in frustration; his words were anything but reassuring. Schooling your composure, you stared back at him. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I can see the moon better on this side of the lake.”

You stared at him blankly, confused by his cryptic answer. Okay, Mr. von Obsidian, if that’s how you want to play.

He took a step closer to you; his hand reaching out to you, his fingertips touched a loose tendril of your hair. Adrenaline flooded your system; you weren’t sure if you wanted to stay or scream.

“Hold on,” he whispered softly as lightly tugged on your hair. “There.” He pulled his hand away, and held it up to the moonlight where you saw a single spider crawling on his skin. “Didn’t think you’d want that visitor on you.” He held his fingers close to his lips and blew on his skin, sending the spider drifting off into the midnight breeze. Your heartbeat slowed, the gentle gesture both unexpected and comforting, the urge to reach out to him increasing.

“Thank you.” You weren’t sure what came over you, but you found yourself standing on tiptoes, your lips brushing against his. His mouth pressed firmly against yours, his lips were soft and gentle. One taste of his cool kiss and you were already enchanted by his spell; he was welcome to trample all over your heart.

Breaking the kiss far too early, he pulled back and smiled at you. “The moon is beautiful tonight; it’s glowing, gorgeous.”

Only he wasn’t looking up at the sky; he was gazing straight into your eyes.

Wait.

Something he said earlier came back to haunt you - “I can see the moon better on this side of the lake.” You were the moon. He wasn’t being weirdly cryptic earlier; he was talking about you. He wasn’t there by some happy accident; he was waiting for you.

You shivered, realization dawning on you that perhaps there was a shred of truth to the rumors and that maybe you should heed their warning – avoid Gilbert von Obsidian at all costs.

“I should be going...” You were almost there, in just a few minutes you would be back in your cabin, tucked in your bed surrounded by your friends. Safe. Away from him.

“Come with me. I’ll keep you safe.” He extended his hand to you, a gentle smile spread on his lips. There was something that pulled you to him; how many others had he charmed with that soft smile? Daring to dance with danger, you slipped your hand in his, his cool touch stinging as his fingers intwined with yours.

Safe from what? How can he keep you safe, if what you needed protecting from was him?

Tagging: @xxsycamore @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @queengiuliettafirstlady @gilbertvonobsidian @alixennial @redheadkittys @atelieredux @rhodolitesrose @chaosangel767 @queen-dahlia @devildomwritersposts @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome @kisara-16 @ikehoe @altairring @lordsisterxotome @lucyw260 @violettduchess

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thebareminimum250words · 1 year

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The Bare Minimum: 250 Words

10/01/2022

Continued from Jan 6th prompt.

Prompt

Character: A Plumber in training.

Situation: Falling in love with the wrong person.

Prop: A disguise.

Setting: Cabin by the lake, day.

“Desert lake park” replied Wilton gently “you’ve had a seizure”, the man nodded his head gently before rolling onto his back, his eyes closing again. “When did it stop?”

Wilton looked at his watch, 15:14.

“About 7 minutes ago” replied Wilton.

The man hummed in acknowledgement; his eyes still closed. “My son has called for an ambulance; it will be another 10 minutes or so before there here. It’s best you just lay there until they do” the man hummed again in acknowledgement, causing the cabin to fall into silence.

Wilton stood awkwardly in front of the man, watching him breath in and out. The man's breath looked measured and controlled, he was obviously trying to calm himself down.

Leaving the man alone to calm down for a moment, Wilton looked out towards the lake that he could see from inside the cabin. A group of kids were on the opposite side of the lake swimming close to the edge of the jetty, encouraging a young girl; no older than 7 to jump off and into the lake where her siblings and cousins were floating and splashing. Someone in the distance was revving a jet ski, and he could hear faint laughter coming from a cabin further down.

Wilton could also hear a persistent dripping, booming quite loud in the silence of the cabin.

“Oh the leak” said Wilton out loud, as he headed to the bathroom, remembering why he came to cabin 28 in the first place, “Bloody hell that’s irritating”

“Bloody irritating!” answered the man “The frick of a thing kept me up all night. Probably why I am on the floor right now”

Wilton followed the source of the noise to the tap over the bathtub, turning the tap right as much as he could, but the water continued to drip directly into the drain where it seems to be hitting a collection of water in the bend of the pipe under the bath, causing the drip to echo back up in a reverberating plop sound.

293 words

50 min

10 min plotting

God dammit!!! Need to push myself more and do this exercise more early in the evening as I start to get irritated that I can’t do my after hour things because I have to reach my bare minimum. I WILL NOT SLACKEN!!!

Returning to this. Definitely need to plot this out more.

Happy I did bring it back to Wilton being a plumber, well at least coming in to fix the plumbing….OMG this is painful!!!

#today's bare minimum #creative writing #writing #writing habits

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lifewithdavefarts · 3 years

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DaveFarts - Episode 7 “The Noisy Roommate” [Episode List] Tim spends the night at Dave’s house and they have to share the latter’s full-sized bed. As they go to sleep, Dave soon makes sure that it’s gonna be a noisy night.

The episode is inspired by TheFartingWolf’s video/premise of the same name. I had a similar idea sometime ago but I figured I could just combine my story and the video for, I don’t know, a real 4D experience? With that said, I’m ready to delete this story should TheFartingWolf want me to do so.

Also keep in mind that this is not a story about the IRL person who made the video linked above, but rather two fictional characters.

The Noisy Roommate

“Thanks for having me over, bro.” I thanked Dave, while rummaging through my backpack.

This was not the first time I slept at Dave’s house of course, not even the first during our 20s, but this time it truly was a last-second solution. This is not like the shower emergency from sometime ago, though water is involved again somehow.

“No problem dude. I needed someone to help me finish this case of beer anyway.” he said, cracking one open and throwing the can at me, which I managed to catch.

“Always up for it.” and I took a long sip of that cold nectar.

“I’m sorry you almost drowned.” he joked.

“Yeah it was terrible.” I played along.

Truth is that some pipe in my house literally exploded and water flooded the entire apartment. It’s not as bad as it sounds: the leak was already fixed but I still needed a place to stay for the night. I didn’t even have time to call anyone as Dave simply showed up at my place and drove me here.

We sat on the couch to watch some bad movie as we kept chatting about some random stuff and having beer. We were both dressed casually, Dave sporting a pair of grey shorts and a black t-shirt, outfits that doubled as our pajamas, even though Dave was probably gonna sleep shirtless as he usually does.

And again, as usual, I felt some familiar vibrations going through the couch. I rolled my eyes and chuckled.

“Straight to the point, I see.” I commented.

He laughed and slightly leaned, ripping the rest of the 7-seconds rip towards me, without the couch muffling the sound now. I always appreciate how my bud is so casual about my kink and that fart, needless to say, was impressive, despite being “small” for my bro’s incredibly high standards. Also, he basically almost always farted like this even before he knew about my fetish which, again, led me to appreciate more how his attitude towards me didn’t change at all -and he knows very well the “side effects” his blasts give me.

I pitched a tent in my own shorts but I managed to hide it by adjusting my position, crossing my legs. Whether Dave noticed that or not was irrelevant, as he kept ripping a couple of more loud toots.

We resumed watching the TV for like one hour until we both decided it was time to turn into corpses for the rest of the night, so we went upstairs, the beers making us a bit dizzy but nothing serious.

I was familiar with Dave’s house so I headed directly to the guest room, my bud right behind me.

I stepped into the dark room, turned the light on, and I saw it, staring at me from the bed.

Brave Dave was the first one to run away, pulling me outside of the guest room as I hastily shut the door. Team work!

“Okay, Tim. Were you cursed or something?” he asked.

On the bed we both just saw a huge spider, the biggest we’ve ever seen in real life. While we’re not properly arachnophobic, it’s not like *we like* sleeping with spiders hanging around.

We were both manly adult men and so we were both very afraid of the eight-legged monster sneaking out to murder us in our sleep, or simply existing, so the two of us rushed to the kitchen and came back with tons of duct tape to block up every nook and cranny of the guest room door.

“Alright.” I said. “I’ll just use the couch downstairs.”

“Nah bro.” Dave commented. “My bed’s full-sized. You can join me.” and he walked towards his room.

I needed some time to process what he just said. Me and Dave shared a bed many times but that was always before I came out to him. I wonder how-

“Look, I hate to interrupt your inner monologue about self-pity and all” he said, kind of annoyed. “But can we just for once skip your awkward bullshit and head to bed? Thanks.” and then disappeared into his room.

I chuckled a bit as I realized how “formulaic” I was being lately when he more than once proved to me that he had no issues with me, so I followed him.

The bedroom was dimly lit and he was already lying on his side of the bed, shirtless, showing off some mild pecs and an overall nice-looking figure.

“I gotta warn you: I’m a screamer in bed.” I jokingly said, lying down on my side of the bed, just by the window.

“Oh yesss, scream harder, daddy.” he played along, laughing.

We were both lying down, mindlessly scrolling stuff on our smartphones and reading articles. That only lasted a couple of minutes.

“Well, time for your goodnight kiss” Dave announced, quickly wrapping his legs around me and planting his butt in grey shorts in my face.

I was still lying down as the fart erupted, almost making me deaf for how loud it was, so up close and personal. I couldn’t see the ceiling very well as Dave’s hairy legs mostly obstructed the view. The blast didn’t even smell that much, which made me assume it was on command rather than fully natural; not that it didn’t stink at all of course.

The beer-powered fart lasted about 10 seconds. He wiggled his ass on my face a bit and then let me go/breathe. “I thought you were a screamer.” he teased and went back on his side of the bed, which almost looked queen-sized.

I didn’t say anything and I simply turned my back to him, trying to be annoyed and failing miserably, feeling a faint scent in my nostrils every time I breathed.

“Looks like there’s a leak in my house as well.” he said, right before ripping another thunderous blast, this time far from me. I tried to ignore that, but I still pitched a tent anyway. I didn’t even turn around: I’m not going to let the teaser win!

After a couple of minutes, Dave turned the lights off and the room fell into darkness, the only source of light being a digital alarm clock inches from my face. 1:34 AM, not as late as I thought, but my body didn’t care and I fell asleep almost immediately.

2:44 AM I hear a loud noise and I woke up, only opening my eyes, the alarm clock greeting my sight in a room of pure darkness. Took me a couple of moments to realize that, of course, it was Dave farting, this time in his sleep. I turned around, noticing Dave’s grey pants as my eyes adjusted to the dark.

3:01 AM I was almost asleep as another fart snapped me back to reality, this time even louder. Again I instinctively turned around and stared at my bud’s butt as the blast erupted. Those felt very airy and pretty much odourless I think. I thought whether I should wake him up but I didn’t want him to think that I was listening to his sleep-farting, which is literally what I was doing sadly.

At this point I was playing the jump-rope between being asleep and awake, every time fully waking up because of Dave farting like crazy. After many farts, the blast at 3:59 AM felt particularly powerful and “meaty”, which made me look again at my friend’s butt, somehow noticing his pants moving because of the air being blasted out. A powerful rip that lasted around 11 seconds I believe. Was I dreaming? Similar farts then followed.

4:59 AM This one almost scared me as when I thought it was over it instead became louder and louder, as if it was a train passing nearby. It had a great sound and flow, one of the best I ever heard from my bro.

5:32 AM Another peak in farting activity. Falling asleep at this point was impossible. Each moment of silence was just the quiet before the storm and I completely gave up on the idea of resting that night.

6:21 AM This one was so loud and powerful that even Dave woke up for a moment. He simply sighed in relief though, but when even the farter wakes up, you know the fart was incredible.

6:36 AM A similar blast greeted the first lights of the dawn.

Even more powerful rips were heard at 7:16 AM and 7:33 AM. At around 8:01 AM, Dave finally woke up by himself, one of his loudest farts acting as natural alarm clock.

That was a long night and as I heard Dave going downstairs to do his morning routine, I figured it was finally time to catch up some sleep, but ironically enough the silence made it more difficult as I was now so used to his blasts that they felt like white noise, fetish or not.

That teasing bastard won and wasn’t even done.

After merely 30 minutes, I heard him jump on the bed. I was facing the window, pretending to be asleep, but I knew he was standing on the bed, towering over me.

“Rise and shine, roommate!”

He squatted over my head, still sporting those grey shorts, and ripped a huge, loud and proud natural morning fart all over my face. I’m kind of glad I was already awake, ‘cause I would have been scared to death by that gas thunder. Where was all of this gas coming from? How was he not done?

I screamed, annoyed, and pushed him on his side of the bed, my hands touching his still-farting ass, the stench being this time unbearable. I heard him laugh like an idiot as he lied next to me, keeping one of his legs up as he finished ripping that loud, long fart.

“So you are a screamer!” he joked.

“And you fart in your sleep.” I replied.

“As if you’d mind me doing that.”

Whether he was aware or not of what happened during the night, Dave was as usual so comfortable around me that he just didn’t care and it was all just a big gassy prank for him. So I just lied there, awake, chatting with my bud about my house looking like Venice, so tired and so exhausted that I didn’t even bother about the spider staring back at us from the ceiling.

End of Episode 7

#fart story #eproctophilia #fartkink #davefarts2 #gayfart #malefarts

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pomegranatebitch · 3 years

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make it better, make it better

sambucky┃2k words┃mentioned civilian death

Summary: Sam comes home from a hard day of being Captain America, and while Bucky can’t shoulder the burden for him, he can take care of his boyfriend and show him he’s loved

((Just soft sambucky, Bucky taking care of Sam because he fucking deserves it))

_________________

“I can’t do it. I can’t fucking do it anymore!”

Sam came bursting into their shared Louisiana apartment at a full 10. He ripped the wings off his back with such force Bucky thought he might break them even though he knew they were indestructible. Sam practically threw the shield across the floor like it had burned him, crashing it into the kitchen table.

Bucky quickly rose from where he’d been half paying attention to a late night Golden Girls marathon while waiting for Sam to get home. Blanche and Rose bickered quietly in the background while Sam huffed out rapid breaths, desperately trying to yank the suit off with shaking hands.

“I can’t get this fucking thing off!” He nearly yelled into their otherwise still apartment.

Bucky approached him tentatively, hands out but unsure what to do with them. “Here, let me help—”

“I got it! Just don’t— I…” Sam snapped but the fight drained out of him as soon as it had appeared. He stumbled to the living room and sat down heavily on the couch, his face buried in his hands as he hunched over himself. The soft chatter of the TV was the only noise in the room as Bucky stood frozen, watching Sam’s back rise and fall with slow deliberate breaths.

After a minute of dead silence, Bucky circled around the couch slowly, clicking the TV off and gingerly sitting down on the opposite side of the couch, leaving plenty of room between them.

When Sam finally spoke, his voice cracked with unshed tears. “I can’t do it anymore.” Even with his super hearing, Bucky had to strain to hear him.

Bucky nodded slowly, though Sam wouldn’t have been able to see him, still hiding his face with his palms. “Can you tell me what happened?” Bucky whispered.

At that, Sam laughed. But it wasn’t his usually sunshine-filled, pure joy laugh. This was dark, sarcastic. Exhausted. “What didn’t happen?” He bit back.

It took a minute and several more deep breaths but he finally continued.

“I was in Dallas on an emergency call, supposedly some threat against a Senator’s life and I got called in. Fuck, it was half pony show and half media circus. They didn’t need me there. They just wanted Captain America standing behind some politician trying to pass some bill with some agenda, hell I don’t even know.

“Then they had a press conference and stuck me in front of a microphone. Some reporter…I don’t know who…he asked why I’d chosen to stay there in Dallas rather than help with the evacuations in Miami.”

Bucky made a small, confused noise but otherwise let Sam go on.

“Apparently, while I was being paraded around for some asshole Senator who probably didn’t need any extra protection in the first place, someone set off a pipe bomb in a café in Miami. I didn’t even know about it until that reporter asked. They caught the guy in minutes but fourteen people were injured and one girl—” he had to pause to collect himself, “one girl died in the blast.”

Sam finally took his face out of his hands and turned to look toward Bucky. Silent tears were streaming down his face but his eyes looked like he was a thousand miles away. “I saw the news after the press conference, Buck. She was 20. She was studying aerospace engineering, had an internship at NASA this next summer. She looked—” a sob wracked his hunched frame, “she looked just like Sarah did when she a kid.”

At that, all the fight left Sam’s body and Bucky caught him in his arms, waiting to see if Sam might pull away and when he only curled around Bucky further, he pulled Sam even closer to his chest. Bucky could feel where tears were soaking through the shoulder of his t-shirt as he rubbed one hand soothingly in circles across Sam’s back, the other coming up to cup the back of his head.

Bucky didn’t say anything. There was nothing he could say to Sam that Sam didn’t already know himself. Sam knew there was nothing he could have done to prevent the attack. Sometimes terrible things just happened, and there wasn’t a rhyme or reason why. People died in tragic accidents and no amount of superheroes was ever going to change that.

Even if he’d flown to Miami the second the blast went off, it would have taken him hours to get there and by then first responders would have taken all the survivors to hospitals and with the perp detained, there would have been nothing left for Sam to do but stare at the rubble.

Bucky couldn’t change the events of the day, he couldn’t make Sam not secretly feel guilty for the young woman’s death, he couldn’t shoulder that burden for his partner. But he could sit with him here in this moment and just hold him while he cried.

And so he did.

Neither of them knew how much time had passed when Sam’s sobs turned to hiccups turned to sniffles. Bucky just stayed there with Sam wrapped in his arms until Sam finally peeled himself off Bucky and rubbed at his eyes.

“I’m sorry I snapped earlier,” Sam whispered.

“Don’t be,” Bucky replied definitively.

“I actually…could use some help getting out of the suit.”

Bucky offered his partner a half smile and gently led Sam from the couch into their shared bathroom. He started running a hot bath, adding in the lavender oils he knew Sam loved best.

In silence, Bucky undid all the hidden zippers and buckles that kept the vibranium suit in place and slowly peeled it off Sam’s body, stripping him too of his underclothes until Sam stood naked and dazed on the cool tile floors.

Bucky stepped in front of him, studying Sam’s face, searching for every little emotion written across his delicate features. Bucky reached up, running a thumb across Sam’s cheekbone, wiping away a stray tear as Sam blinked his eyes closed.

With one last check of the water’s temperature, Bucky helped Sam step into the tub and get settled, Sam’s eyes drifting shut under the comforting heat of the bath.

Bucky dropped a single kiss to Sam’s hair before pulling back. “Come out when you’re ready,” he whispered, not wanting to break the calm quiet.

Sam just nodded and slipped lower under the water and Bucky took that as his signal to go.

It was almost two hours until Sam finally emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist and looking decidedly calmer and more present than before. Seeing the crisis had passed, Bucky unashamedly took a minute to admire his boyfriend, the planes of his stomach cutting sharply downward, gesturing to more, and his dark skin practically glowing in the soft light coming from the kitchen. And god, those arms. The things Bucky wanted Sam to do to him with those arms…well his brain was short circuiting a bit at the moment but he’d be sure to lay kisses over every inch of them as soon as he had Sam in bed with him.

When he spoke, Sam’s voice was still a bit gruff from crying hours ago and wow it should not have been as sexy as it was but it was doing things for Bucky. “I know it’s like 2am… but any chance there’s some leftovers or something in the fridge? Between the emergency call this morning and all the meetings and press conferences I don’t think I ever stopped for lunch. Hell, I’d bite into a raw onion right now just to get something to eat.”

Bucky laughed at that. “Slow down, Sammy. I’m sure we can get you something better than that,” he said, gesturing at the kitchen table.

“Is that—” Sam started, eyeing the mound of food that he hadn’t noticed when he came in.

“Two steak burritos from Delmar’s and a metric shit ton of chips and guac. Still don’t know why you like that stuff, tastes like baby food if you ask me.”

“Hush up, Delmar’s in sacred,” Sam said, already digging in to the feast while Bucky watched him with a dopey grin on his face.

Sam cut him a side glance. “Staring,” he grunted out between bites as he’d already inhaled the first burrito.

“Get used to it, Wilson.”

“Fuck, how’d you get it this late, I thought they closed at 11?”

Bucky shrugged. “You left in a hurry this morning, didn’t even grab coffee. If you’re forgetting coffee, you’re definitely gonna forget to eat. Got it ordered to here while I was waiting for you to come home.”

Sam finally paused just before shoving a massive tortilla chip in his mouth. “You ordered it here? Like what, on a delivery app?”

“You know, technology’s really not as hard as you think it is to learn. I mean, they make it easy enough for an idiot to use.”

“Oh so you’re finally admitting you’re an idiot?” Sam grinned.

“Your idiot,” Bucky smirked right back.

“Damn straight.”

Bucky eyed the empty tinfoil wrappers and crumpled paper bag, Sam having finished the meal in record time. “You sure you ain’t a supersoldier?”

Sam laughed, once again bright and warm. “Man, shut the hell up.”

“Make me.”

“Mm, that can be arranged.” Sam got up from his seat and the table and sauntered over to Bucky, still wrapped in only a towel that was slipping lower and lower down his hips.

The kiss Sam pressed to Bucky’s mouth was impossibly sweet, all the biting quips falling away as Sam pulled away, lingering just a hair’s breadth away from Bucky’s lips, nearly making Bucky moan in anticipation, though he caught the sound in his throat.

“Thank you,” Sam breathed. “For everything.” His eyes had fluttered closed but his brow was smooth and free from any stress that had craved it’s way there earlier.

“I’ll always be here for you,” Bucky murmured back. “Thank you for coming home to me.”

They stayed there in that moment, neither wanting to break the soft thing cradled between them, until a yawn forced it’s way over Sam’s face.

“Alright,” Bucky laughed, scooping Sam up with his hands under his thighs, Sam immediately responding by wrapping his legs around Bucky’s waist and grabbing Bucky’s face between his hands. “Bedtime for superheroes.”

“Make me,” Sam joked, but the words were cut short by yet another yawn.

Bucky just snorted as he lugged his half-naked boyfriend back into their bedroom, depositing him on their bed and turning to rifle through their dresser until he found a soft pair of flannel pyjama pants and a light pink durag and tossed both to his partner. Bucky detatched his prosthetic arm as he’d recently started doing more at night and laid the vibranium arm on top of the dresser.

Crawling into bed, Sam let Bucky pull his back to his chest with one strong hand until Sam was snuggly positioned under Bucky’s chin, their legs tangled together under the covers.

“You got anywhere to be tomorrow?” Bucky asked, easily falling into their usual short nightly discussion.

“Uh, got a briefing at 2 with Torres, but I should really get up at 6 for a run and—”

“Take the morning off, Sam. You need to sleep.” Bucky squeezed the arm he had thrown across Sam’s chest a little tighter. “The world can wait for Sam Wilson for another couple hours.”

“But—” Sam started.

“I’ll make pancakes if you agree to sleep in.”

Well now Sam was backed into a corner. Everyone knew Bucky’s blueberry pancakes were things of legend. He’d once seen AJ and Cass wrestle each other for the last one before Bucky broke it up by agreeing to make one more.

“Fine,” Sam huffed, sure that Bucky could hear the smile creeping into his voice. “But I’m out of bed by 10 or you’ll pay for it, Barnes.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Bucky teased.

When Sam finally drifted off to sleep, it was with a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth and his heart feeling lighter than it had all month.

#sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky #sambucky fic #my fic #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #sam wilson deserves the world #and by god bucky is going to try his best to give it to him #fanfic

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adorethedistance · 4 years

Text

Emergency Meeting - Artist!Reader x Sunset Curve

JATP masterlist

Requested: “I saw that you are doing requests and if you want to do another artist reader I was thinking maybe the boys are upset because they don’t show up in pictures so the reader paints them a portrait and they are so happy and grateful . I love your writing btw u r so freaking talented !!”

Warnings: overwhelming situation (minor sensory overload)

Words: 1214

Summary: When Flynn calls an emergency meeting to discuss promotional graphic malfunctions, your painting skills come in clutch for the three camera shy ghosts.

I flip my phone, screen-up, for the time in a while to see how long I’ve been studying. Eight minutes? Are you kidding me?! I swear it’s been at least an hour of defining these terms in bold. I love learning but this is not it, chief. Whatever, I can take a break now, I deserve it.

Then, as if cued, I see a text from Flynn illuminate my screen. In our trio chat with Julie, she’s calling an ‘🚨🚨🚨Emergency meeting🚨🚨🚨’. Although, you never know how much of an emergency her ‘emergency meeting’ will be. Flynn will call an emergency if she doesn’t know what to wear, or if her car broke down on the side of the interstate, so there’s really no telling how dire this meeting will be.

“Hey Siri, text ‘double trouble and chopped liver’,” Every time I say the chat name out loud I can’t help but laugh. The memory of the name’s origin story will stay with me as long as I live. “Be there 10 minutes.”

__________________________

“This guitar silhouette is getting tired, and you want to blow up after playing Staples Center, your band is gonna need new promo visuals,” Flynn announces to the Molina house’s garage, and all the band members in it. That’s pretty dire, I think to myself. I mean, Staples freaking Center is even bigger than the Orpheum.

“Your show is next weekend, which means we have roughly 12 days til performance day, and 5 days to have a marketing image for the venue.”

“Yes, Flynn, we know we’re short on time,” Julie nods in exasperated confirmation, but I can tell she’s just as nervous as Flynn.

The venue’s marketing team asked for official graphics to use for their social media accounts. The only issue is, we’re stuck with the flyer Flynn made for the Loz Feliz school dance.

“The guys don’t exactly show up on camera--you saw the pictures my dad took,” Julie continues, “And I feel weird being the only face in our band picture,” She lays back into ‘Luke’s’ couch rubbing a tired hand over her eyes. On the other hand, Reggie’s optimism never disappoints,

“Maybe we can use our orb appearances somehow?” His question is enough to get the brainstorming started, and the overlap of statements and questions blurs into one big mesh of voice, growing in volume.

“How would we do that?”

“That blows that we don’t show up on camera.”

“Why not just use our instruments?”

“You really want to take a picture of just our instruments?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“We’re helping them market our band, not the brand of our instruments!”

The back and forth between the five of them is so overwhelming that I have to shut down for a second. I’m safe inside my own mind despite the bickering background noise.

Okay, think Y/n, there’s gotta be a way for them to get new promo. We can’t blow their cover by using 90’s photos, and Julie doesn’t want to be the sole image. I don’t have photoshop so we couldn’t use the orb idea. Instruments were a good idea until Alex pointed out they need to be of the band.

“I can do it,” my voice pipes up over the commotion. Everyone is surprised by my volume, myself included. The studio falls silent to my voice, which is infinitely softer than their shouting ones.

“I can make a promo visual for you guys... I just need a few days.”

“Well, we have 5 of them, so- ow!” Luke’s quip is cut off by Alex flicking the back of his head. He winces before sticking his tongue out at Alex, who rolls his eyes at the childlike gesture. Then Reggie jumps into the conversation,

“Would you really do that for us?”

“Yeah…” I glance down to the tips of my shoes. My face is glowing red as the attention from the entire band centers on my emotionally smaller frame. I’m not easily nervous or embarrassed, it’s just hard not to be shy when the five prettiest people on the planet are staring at you in anticipation. “I’d need your help though.”

“Anything,” Julie smiles as she walks over to where I’m standing by the studio’s entryway.

“I’ll need you all to sit for me. Just for a few hours- and I’ll work as fast as I can.”

__________________________

Julie being alive and all makes my job a lot easier. All I needed was a picture of her as a reference, and I could paint her on my own time. That was never an issue. The issue is getting three teenage boys to sit still for as long as it takes to draw them.

I decided to put them out of their misery last session, and use my quick sketch as an outline for the actual painting. Now, my problem is coloring the finished sketch on my canvas, and I need their pigmentation for reference.

At first I had them sit one by one for color reference, but as long as the other two were ‘jamming’ I couldn’t entirely focus. That’s how we ended here: Reggie picking some bass line with his instrument unplugged, Luke bouncing from wall to wall to exert his pent up energy, and Alex on his drum stool. He’s wistfully glancing at the kit since he can’t play while I’m working.

Luke’s inattentive bobbing around the space causes him to trip on an extension cord, again. That’s the third time he’s done that.

“I don’t get paid enough for this,” I whisper to myself between glancing at my canvas and at Alex’s hair in natural light.

“Paid enough for what?” Luke’s eyes snap up as he hears voices for the first time in half an hour.

“Babysitting,” I say, dabbing the point of my brush into the honey colored paint, adding shadows to the drummer’s hair. Luke then pouts an angry frown and resumes dancing around the studio like a Peanuts character.

Leaning back to observe my painting as a whole, I smile and sarcastically say, “I guess I can check ‘painting three dead boys’ off of my bucket list.”

The musician spirits all perk up at my statement. They share a glance of excitement before closing in on the wet canvas.

“Be careful while it dries.” And with my final warning, I move out from behind my easel to let the boys see. Reggie’s shock, Alex’s surprise, Luke’s bafflement, and my anticipation release tension into the atmosphere.

“Y/n-”

“Are you serious?”

“WE LOOK SO REAL!” I laugh at the buzz of enthusiasm from the band.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“We love it, this is phenomenal.”

“You know, once I’m famous, you’ll have to commission me.”

“We don’t have any ghost money,” Reggie panics.

“I guess you’ll have to start turning tricks then, huh?”

My playful comment prompts Luke to teasingly pull me into a suffocating hug, and I squeal in response. Alex joins in, his larger figure crushing me and Luke together; then, excitement gets the better of Reggie and he runs to join the hug. The added momentum sends all four of us crashing to the floor. We remain on the floor in a heap of laughter and joy.

Where there is friendship, there is bliss.

***

A/n: if you’re new: hi welcome. if you’re not: you know I’m back on my artist reader bullshit 🤪. This is such a fun n precious piece and I hope y’all enjoyed.

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @kaitlyn2907 @itz-jas @crybabyddl

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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

Text

Dreams, Chapter 3

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 3

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2344

Summary: It’s Christmas in Wisconsin for Sam and the reader.

Warnings: angst (sensing a theme here), alcohol, slow burn

Christmas Eve was a Thursday, which meant you were working. You’d predicted it would be slow, but there were big chunks of time where no one was in the bar at all. Christmas carols on the radio helped pass the time, and you drank a little more of the almost-coquito you’d thrown together in the back at the beginning of the shift than you needed to. It reminded you of your aunt and the way she’d smell of coconut through Boxing Day every year when you were growing up; welcome nostalgia you could tolerate like pressing a thumb into a bruise and distracted you from the evisceration of thinking of Dean. The day shift had left the bar understocked, so Sam spent a good amount of time going up and down the stairs refilling refrigerators and cutting fruit for drinks. Around 10 or 11 the people who didn’t want to wrap up the night when their in-laws went home straggled in, a handful of regulars that you generally liked but had a tendency to get a little rowdy when left alone together. It didn’t help that they showed up a few drinks in.

The merriment was infectious, and it was sweet to hear grown men proud of the gifts they’d gotten their loved ones. One even brought a few bottles of homemade maple syrup to give to the others, sliding one sheepishly across the bar to you. You were pouring out a round of coquito when Sam came up from the basement with a towel tossed over his shoulder.

“Everything should be good,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t cut it in months and the ends fell gracefully around his shoulders. A piece fell oddly across his forehead and you reflexively fixed it for him.

“What did you two get each other?” a regular, Steve, asked with a relaxed finger pointing between you and Sam. His cheeks were ruddy with whiskey and winter air.

“Oh. I—uh, we don’t really do gifts,” Sam offered placatingly.

“Man, where did you find this girl? Listens to classic rock, drives a stick shift, and doesn’t ‘do gifts’?” another, Joe, added.

“You better be buying her some presents or someone else will.” Jake, a customer you’d always felt safe around since he tossed out a rude guy for you a month back, chimed in.

You and Sam had never explicitly said that you were together. People just assumed, and it was easier to go along with it than explain the truth, especially because you didn’t look similar enough to be siblings and you still couldn’t shake your need to cling to him from time to time. It was almost never an issue aside from periodic mild teasing. This Christmas talk was a departure from the non-explanations you and Sam usually gave and you found yourself waiting for a cue on where to go. Sam seemed to be having the same thought, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

You spoke before the moment had a chance to become too pregnant. “You know how hard it is to buy presents for a guy who doesn’t like having stuff? If he buys me something, I’ll have to get him something too!” You hoped it sounded smooth, your lying out of practice in the months since you’d had a cover on a hunt. Sam smirked gratefully at you.

Joe shook his head wistfully. “Seriously, where did you find her?”

“She’s pretty great, isn’t she?” Sam’s voice sounded sort of soft around the edges, almost like he was tired but not quite. When you looked up at him, that pebble of self-consciousness you’d felt at the hardware flipped in your stomach again and you glanced away in favor of a one-armed hug you intended to look affectionate. Sam did the same, encompassing your entire shoulder with his hand.

When you drove home that night, warm and full of coquito, Sam played Christmas carols.

“I think we should do gifts.”

It was the first thing you thought when you woke up, and you said it into Sam’s chest as you laid there before you opened your eyes. You could tell from the rhythm of his breathing that he wasn’t all the way asleep.

“Hmm?”

“I think we should do gifts. We should really do Christmas if we’re going to do it, and that means presents. What do you think?”

You felt as much as you saw out of the corner of your drowsy eyes that Sam raised his unpinned arm to rub the sleep out of his. “Mmm, okay? I mean if that’s what you want.”

“Thank you,” you said as you nestled deeper into him.

“‘S already Christmas though.” Sleep pulled Sam’s words together like taffy.

“It can be goofy stuff; I just think we should open presents under a tree and everything. Seems like the kind of thing we should do, you know? Like trying to be normal.” You couldn’t bear saying out loud what you meant, that Dean would’ve wanted presents and stockings and eggnog and Santa hats and a big roast if he could’ve, to fall asleep after watching the stars glitter off of falling snow.

Sam heard anyway.

“You’re right,” Sam murmured. He rubbed your upper arm absentmindedly.

“I’ll wake you back up when the bathroom’s free,” you offered, carefully rolling over him to get out of the bed. He nodded with closed eyes and flopped over onto his stomach.

About an hour later, a wet haired Sam slid into the Impala’s driver side and rubbed his hands together to warm them up. You could tell from the puffiness around his eyes and his overcompensating casual tone that he’d been crying. He set his phone to pipe Your Inner Fish through the stereo and backed down the driveway over snow tamped down over the last week.

It had been years since you’d gone Christmas shopping, as much as this could be considered Christmas shopping. The town you’d settled in had exactly 7 businesses on a tiny main street, including 1 small inn, a grocery store, the hardware store, a coffee shop (the most reliable internet in town, much faster than your place) and 3 different places to get a burger. You met Sam in the grocery store after grabbing what you wanted from next door in hardware, catching him just as he came out carrying a bag with a long pipe of wrapping paper stretching far past the top. When you left, there were only two other cars in the parking lot grabbing their own last-minute things.

You wrapped your presents on the bed. It wasn’t like riding a bike as you’d hoped it would be, and your sloppy corners started you down a mental spiral. What a completely asinine thing, wrapping hardware store presents to put under a stolen tree. This wasn’t the Rockwell painting you wanted to present as sacrifice to Dean’s memory. It was cheap and stupid, a sloppy high school production when Dean deserved Broadway. He always had. As much as the three of you had never really done Christmas, Dean knew how to make something special while maintaining the air of not caring. You remembered waking up on his made-up anniversaries: six months from the first time you kissed, three years since he realized he loved you (three years minus 53 days before he said anything), 14 months since you’d figured out how to put a gun back together in the dark. Even in the most podunk little towns he’d find gorgeous bouquets and put together great meals in tiny kitchenettes; drive miles away to pick up a cake for Sam’s birthday or pepper motel rooms with festive streamers and silly string. Two quick, hard breaths through your nose to collect yourself and you finished the wrapping. That would have to be good enough.

Sam was crouched in front of the fireplace with a bellows, a plucky little fire kicking into gear with his help. “All yours,” you called out, grateful your voice didn’t crack.

“Thanks. It’ll only be a second.”

He was right, and came back to you on the couch in only a few minutes with two wrapped bundles. You shyly handed him what you’d wrapped and took his.

“Uh, Merry Christmas I guess,” Sam said. You noticed the edge of discomfort in his voice and were sickly grateful not to be alone in your tentativeness as you popped open the scotch tape holding the paper on the rectangular package. Before you’d uncovered it, Sam had his first gift unwrapped.

“Nice! They had these at the hardware store?” he asked, snapping open the clamshell package on the cheap purple noise-cancelling earbuds you’d picked up.

“I’m sure they’ll sound like they were made underwater, but I figured you could hide them pretty easily if you wanted to wear them at work, listen to your podcasts while you restock or whatever.”

“That’s a really good idea.” He looked down at the headphones considerately for a beat.

You pulled the paper off your present to reveal a notebook and two ballpoint pens. It had a leatherette flexible plastic cover that felt smooth under your fingertips and was about the size of a standard hardcover novel. You opened it to see inside, and a few photos dropped out.

“I just—you didn’t have any—I can take them back if you want,” Sam stammered, but you heard him as if through those checkout-aisle headphones while your eyes blurred. These were pictures you hadn’t seen for years. The one on top of the loose stack in your lap was outside Bobby’s house. It felt like a lifetime ago, leaning over the railing of the small porch to kiss Dean as he stood on the ground in a sweaty t-shirt covered in engine grease. Under that was one you remembered used to be the background of an old phone, where you, Sam, and Dean huddled together in a booth at some bar you’d forgotten the name of in Montana that had girls dressed up as mermaids swim around in big tanks, part of the same theme that explained the blue fishbowl drink partly out of frame in Dean’s hands. There was one you didn’t recall with you and Dean stretched out on a nondescript motel couch, his arm protectively covering you as you coiled up into his side, both clearly asleep from the closed eyes and slightly parted lips. The last was a picture you hadn’t seen since the last time you went to Jody’s house; it had touched you then to see it hanging up on the wall, you carrying Dean piggyback while Sam clutched his knees laughing. It was the same day Claire had turned 16 and you had no idea why you’d needed to convince Dean you could carry him, but the whole thing had ended up with everyone rolling on the ground, grabbing at laugh-opened rib pains for what felt like blissful hours.

You weren’t surprised at the silent tears that were pouring gently down your face, but wiped at them harshly with your sleeve so they wouldn’t drip. “Sam—” you croaked. “I don’t…I didn’t—thank you. How did you find these?”

“They had an instant photo printer at the grocery store. I’ve had a flash drive with some stuff on it for a while.”

You passed through each picture again, studying them like the gospel. It was almost hard to match the photos to the memories, memories having been replayed and multiplied and color-saturated in your mind over and over again, too big to fit into these little pieces of cardstock. But Dean was so beautiful, and you all looked so happy.

“It’s supposed to help to write about how you’re feeling, so I thought…” Sam trailed off.

“It’s perfect. I—thank you, Sam.” You met his eyes, stormy blue-green and taking on an amber reflection off of the fire. He looked nervous and almost guilty, like he had miscalculated and hurt you. Carefully slipping the photos back into the notebook, you set it on the table like it was made of crystal and threw your arms around Sam to tuck into him, knowing you were crying through his shirt but unable to stop. You realized you were murmuring thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou into the crook of his neck at the same time you felt the wetness of his tears onto your shoulder. Pulling him in tighter, you slunk back into the arm of the couch behind you. Sam slotted into the curve of your body, wrapping around your torso with powerful, gentle arms. His hair was silken when you began to stroke it, feeling his wracking sobs against your chest. It was impossible to gauge the amount of time it took for both of you to stop crying, skin slick and hot against each other on the old couch as your bodies hardened together like a mold. You felt dried out and sore and wouldn’t have pulled away from Sam if you’d had a gun to your head.

“Man, and we were doing so well,” you hummed into Sam’s hair.

“Were we?” Sam asked, and it was all you could do to laugh. Sam laughed too, the emotional and physical fatigue of it blending between you in the air. He adjusted his arm and you could feel the span of his hand across your lower back. The two of you sat there for a few more moments before you gathered up enough courage to let go of him.

“Want to open the other one?”

Sam nodded against your chest and slowly extricated himself, running a hand through his messed-up hair and rubbing his neck as he reached for the other present you’d gotten him. He tore through the paper unceremoniously and smiled down at the shoe repair glue and new boot laces. “You saw they split, didn’t you?”

You smiled back at him. “Would’ve just gotten you a new pair of boots but, you know, late notice. Maybe this’ll buy you some time.”

He handed you his second gift from the coffee table. Inside the foil-adorned wrapping paper were three bags of gummy worms.

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 4

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

Tags: @sams-sass , @anxiousbarnes , @deanwinchesterswitch , @akshi8278 , @itsjensenanddean , @flannellover67 , @weepingwillowphoenix , @tj-drinks-tea , @whatareyousearchingfordean , @winchestergirl2 , @winchest09 , @samwisethegr8 , @fawnxng , @nurse-sarahrn , @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love , @deanwanddamons , @stressedoutkitten , @winchestershiresauce , @tatted-trina6 , @percico-heronstairs , @downanddirtydean , @mamitoqueens , @queenoftheunderdark , @lyarr24 , @waywardwifey , @thinkinghardhardlythinking , @wonder-cole , @sergeantsea

And as always, if you want to be on my taglist, were on the taglist and changed your handle, or I lost track of it, please let me know!

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ickymichi · 3 years

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𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝.

a tendou satori x reader series.

✟ there’s always been the one rule every person who’s been in a band knows not to break, never mess around with your band mates. but Satori was sick of the groupies, sick of catching the bra’s and panties that were flung at him every night. he just wanted the one thing he couldn’t have.

✟ warnings: swearing, eventual smut, eventual angst(?), drug use, inappropriate themes, comedy.

✟ things to know: band au!, some timeskip careers mentioned, slow updates.

✟ if you’d like to be added to the taglist just send an ask! <3

✟ word count: 1.8k

✟ note: first actual chapter of this series! it’s nothing big but obviously i wanted to get something written for this series! but i hope you enjoy my dears! reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

all contents belongs to k1ttykawa 2021. please do not repost or modify on this or any other platform.

.:previous:.

.:next:.

.:masterlist:.

𝟎𝟎𝟐:. 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐜𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬

The bright lights and screams from the small crowd in the underground venue was what brings you back down from the high you’re always on whenever you sit on the small bouncing stool behind the drum set on stages every second or third night. You heard Semi thanking everyone for coming and whatever shit he always says. Once you seen him bow and Tendou go to pick up the collection of bra’s and panties thrown on stage, you raised a hand and threw one of the drumsticks into the crowd, your own way of saying goodbye before making your way offstage. Semi and Tendou’s tall frames following behind, the same order as always.

The sweat was pouring out of you, tonight being more of a wilder one than the usual calm sets you’ve been having in bars or party’s recently. they were easy money, but they got boring after just a few hours. so all three of you were in desperate need of a night like tonight.

Turning the corner of the small, dark corridor to your dressing room for tonight you were met with the stench of weed, 3 different girls on the beat up leather couch, a rolled joint in one of the girls hands and white lines on a tray to the others left. Like always, you went straight to the showers to get the scent of sweat and fake smoke of you.

You really don’t know when but the cropped black tank top you had on was ripped down one side but your usual headband you sported every show was missing and it now became you new priority to track it down. “Satori! Where the fuck is my headband?” you stomped back out to see the wanted man desperately trying to pull the tight leather pants down his lanky legs. His head was whipped up to at the sound of your annoyed voice and then quickly darted his eyes over to the blonde that had previously rolled the joints and was now fawning over semi and his revealed tattoos. “oi” was all you muttered out behind her and holding out your empty hand—also noting some of your rings were gone. She turned her head to you with a scowl covering her features, which also revealed your missing accessory that caused your distress. “that’s her bandana and she’s quite obviously looking for it back,” Tendou quipped in making every one bar the girl laugh. After time, she untied it from the back and forcefully placed it back in your hand. Dramatically you held your arm, acting as if she pained you, tendou again laughing with you.

Finally you were able to hop into the shower and quickly get your self freshened and rub the accesses makeup off your eyes that was already smudged from your constant wiping, trying to stop the sweat dripping from your hairline.

“(y/n)!! please help me out of these, semisemi just keeps fucking laughing!” the peace and quiet you had was quickly interrupted by Tendou’s loud whining. “how the fuck am I not supposed to laugh when your walking around with them swinging around your ankles and your dick hanging out?” “what, Its out?!”

The large door separating the bathroom from the connected dressing room swung open and revealed Satori with his leathers pooled at his ankles and— surprising his dick not actually ‘hanging out’. “please help me sugartits, they’re fucking stuck even with my skinny ankles,” he hopped onto the counter and held his legs up for you to guide them off him. “well for starters, take your fucking shoes off!, and also I swear i saw these in the women’s section of some online store?” jokingly you shouted at him and moved to untie the doc martin’s around his feet. “yeah? You probably did, stole them from that chick that wouldn’t stop hanging off me last month,” both of you laughing at his silliness and falling into a comfortable silence.

The only noise was the voices off the others in the separate room and a recognisable Mötley Crüe song shaking the floor from the stage.

“what you think of tonight then?” the silence being broken by Satori like usual. “uhhh, it was definitely something but yeah, it was fun. Its nice to have a night like that every now and then, specially since we’ve just been in bars doing the same covers for the past two weeks. What about you huh?” he hummed, a noise of agreement showing he was listening, a habit you grew to learn. “I guess it was good fun yeah, although I didn’t appreciate nearly getting hit with a dildo within the first two songs. But I agree, it’s nice to do our own shit and not covers in a bar with a bunch of middle age boring shits. I think we’ve another show that’ll probably be like this again on Saturday.”

Saturday, today was Thursday so you’ve a nice day or two to just lie around, the other probably filled with travelling and setting up.

After about 10 minutes you had unlaced both his boots and chucked them onto the floor and not too long later his ‘borrowed’ pants joined them. “thanks chicken, lifesaver as always,” he pulled you into an embrace with one arm before leaving to find his spare clothes in the other room. He did always have the weirdest nicknames.

The night bled into the early hours of the morning, Semi and Tendou both getting their share of the girls there while you kicked your feet up, sparking up a conversation and passing the joints with your friend Taichi who was also your ‘manager’, he wasn’t really he just acted like it when venues would ask important questions and tagged along for the free show and nights at different clubs.

He was also the one who suggested you start moving to the motel down the street for the night before the venue boots you all out. Quickly you agreed, not fancying seeing any more glimpses of your friends and strangers body parts. Obviously the girls whined to the boys, asking if they could come, saying it’s dangerous for girls to walk home alone at night, “sorry ladies, but we’ll be sharing a bed tonight and I don’t fancy getting an unwanted facial on a Thursday night,” you butted into their persuasive conversation by wrapping an arm around the boys from the back of the couch and giving a friendly smile.

By the time you all got your equipment packed away and into the van it was nearing 4:30 in the morning and you, quite literally we’re going to fall into the bed. It wasn’t the nicest of places but you were just spending tonight and the next two there, unless you decided to go out after the shows and find some rando’s condo to spend the night in. All three of you pushed your way into the small room trying to get the edges of the double bed. And it wasn’t easy trying to squeeze through two 6’2 lean men, resulting in you again stuck in the middle of them staring at the blank roof, desperately waiting for the sun to rise so you could find some place to get food and away from the mess of limbs under the covers.

When you did wake up it felt like you’d only slept for two hours, when in reality it had been about 10. The afternoon sun melting through the old curtains and falling into your pillow. As you moved to see what had finally woke you from the deep sleep you saw Semi at the small table, his guitar resting on his knees and his worn, nimble fingers scribbling words on his notebook he kept for when lyrics would come to him.

“mornin’ early bird,” all you could let out was a groan, your mind still coming to its senses. “there’s food n’ shit there Satori went out to get it, we was the first up, surprisingly,” he breathed out the last remark before moving to pick up the red pencil and get back to writing lyrics before they left his head.

The food that Tendou got was still warm so he must’ve of been up long before you anyway. “where is he?” “beats me, probably wandering round like always,” quickly he responded and took the pic from between his teeth and started strumming a tune while humming, what you were guessing, was the lyrics on the page.

Letting your curiosity get the better of you, you pulled your phone from where it was connected to the wall by the charger and found Satori’s contact and pressed the call icon, moving away from the sound of Eita and his guitar you went to go outside and sit on the bench outside your rooms window.

“hello, hello,” his ever cheerful voice filled the speakers of your phone that was wedged between your shoulder and ear. “hey, I was just calling to see where you are that’s all,” you piped up when he went quiet, tutting when you realised you were out of cigarettes. “oh you know, just out sightseeing ‘tis all,” “cool cool, well i’m going to the store now you need anything?” he hummed into the phone, indicating that he was thinking of something he needed. “just cigs I guess and get me that drink I like while there, i’ll pay you later,” bidding him goodbye as the small shop on the corner came into view you slipped your phone into your sweatpants pocket and walked to the back where they kept the energy drinks.

Exiting the shop with everything you needed you walked to make your way back till you saw a familiar head of red locks across the street and quickly, but quietly made your way to his figure.

Sneaking up behind him and wrapping your arms around his middle, feeling his ribs press into your arms, something you’ve noted recently. He sucked air into his lungs and jumped slightly before laughing with you. “here you go your highness,” was how you greeted him and chucked him his requested items. “thanks muffincake, i’ll pay you back later I swear,” you scoffed and shook his offer off, suggesting you stroll around the city until Semi called either of you to ‘get your sorry asses back to the room’.

Your stroll progressed into a very long walk and by the time Satori suggested you head back with an arm around your shoulder it was already dark, the night life staring to come out of hiding. eyeing a club across the street you thought might be a good shout to visit in case you three got bored tonight, making a mental note of its location.

“Didn’t Semisemi say we need to go over the set list again cause, someone, messed up last night,” a sing-song voice dragged you out of your club browsing and brought a scowl to your face. “excuse me, you’re the one who told me we were doing ‘nasty’ after the interlude, prick,” he pulled his chin up and started to ‘think’ about your accusation before loudly dubbing it false; “nope, I don’t recall doing such a thing. I could never, but if it boots your already sky high ego then, of course I did my dearest apologies baby cakes,” “do you ever shut up,” “when i’m face first in pus-” “Don’t even!”

t a g l i s t: @evan-rose @elianetsantana @weebintheinternet @kuroos-roosterhead

please lmk if i missed you if your not there! <3

#🎸.my band #🤍.satori #tendou fic #tendou satori #tendou x reader #tendou headcanon #tendou smut #tendou x y/n #haikyuu tendou

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obsessive-ego · 4 years

Text

Just a little spit

Musical beetlejuice x reader

Nsft

Reader falls asleep during movie night and drools on beej, things get messy

It's been a long week, work was running you left, right and center, 8 hour shifts, 7 days in a row, so it was no surprised you were low energy, but tonight was movie night and tomorrow was a day off.

Movie night was a weekly occurrence in you little apartment, you've been looking forward to this night all week, exhausted as you were, you were powered by the idea of soon you'll be in comfy clothes and hanging out with you best friend. Changing into your pajamas, a baggy tshirt and boxers you feel as though a weight has been lifted.

"Beetlejuice, beetlejuice, beetlejuice" you say plainly, you've summoned the undead bastard more times then you can remember, so at this point it felt like second nature.

Your bedroom fills with a thick smoke, amazing how he never sets off any fire alarms, waving the smoke away from your face, trying not to cough, you're caught off guard by a multitude of hands grabbing you and pulling you into the soft stomach of the demon in question, 2 sets of arms hold you tight to his midsection as he spins you around with glee.

"Bought time I saw my sweet little breather~ babes did you miss me?"

You stumble about when he places you down, dizzy and trying to find your balance while the ghoul chuckles at you.

"Oh ho, look at you, all casual and comfy for me? Looking like a snack babes" he coos eyeing you up and down, you can feel a shiver run up your spine, his flirting always got to you, wither it was legit or not, it was incredibly easy for the demon to make you blush.

You catch beetlejuice staring, following his eyes you notice hes staring at your legs, before you say anything beetlejuice cuts in

"Didn't think you were wearing any pants there sugar, your shirt hid those cute little boxers from me, kinda bummed you're not just in a shirt and panties for your old pal mr beebleboose" he snorts out an awful cackle

"Are we gonna watch a movie or are you just gonna be an ass all night?" You huff out

"I can do both" the ghoul shrugs, following you to the living room

Beetlejuice flops down on the couch "so besides you, what's on tonight's menu?"

"I was thinking final destination?" You ask waving the dvd case around

"YES! A bunch of breathers getting torn apart for cheating death, an excellent choice my dear Y/n"

You couldnt help but smile at his reaction,

"Oh! What about-"

Ding dong

Beetlejuice just stares at you, you smile "one step ahead of you my friend"

The ghoul gives you a smug grin, grabbing your hand and leading you to the door "got me without a plan sweet stuff, but your pal is the king of improv, I got a trick I've been saving that's really gonna get your knees weak, watch and be amazed" the ghoul then drops his coat around your shoulders, you weren't quite sure why, was it because you were in your pajamas? That you look alittle exposed? Was it a pride thing for him? To have you wrapped in his coat in front of a complete stranger? Who knows with beetlejuice, if it wasnt one thing it was another. The coat didn't exactly help cover much past your baggy shirt, in fact it emphasized the idea you weren't wearing any pants, oh well.

The ghoul swings open the door with glee, practically buzzing with excitement, you couldnt help but feel excited, it was always contagious when beetlejuice was in this type of mood.

It was a miracle that you were still able to get take out, with the amount of times beetlejuice has scared the piss out of the delivery guys, it was a surprise you havent been blocked. But it wasnt like anyone would believe the stories they would tell.

"Pizza for l/n"

"That's me, Thanks man" beetlejuice took the pizza from the guy and handed it to you,

"Hey, sweet stuff, what you order?" The ghoul asks without turning to face you, before you could respond beetlejuice snapped his fingers, your body goes ridged

"Pepperoni, bacon, and snakes" you rattle off nonchalantly, with beetlejuice puppeting you.

"Snakes?" The delivery man responds

Coming back to your senses, you eagerly await what's next.

"Snakes" with that beetlejuice collapses into a pile of black and white striped snakes, you jump at the sight, they begin to slither towards the delivery man, who straight up screeches and blots away.

You hear Beetlejuice's awful laugh, not sure where, as the snakes pile back into the demon you knew.

"Such a beautiful sound, right babes?so, What do ya think sweets? Dont think I didnt see you jump" he snorts out an awful cackle, while you shrink with embarrassment.

Beetlejuice wraps an arm around your shoulders "I'll let it slide sugar, cuz you look so sweet in my jacket, keep it on for the rest of the night and give me a 10 on my performance, and I wont tease ya about being scared" he chuckles squishing his cheek against yours, his scruffy beard scratching your face, he could probably hear your heart hammering away in your chest, you sigh trying to regain what little dignity you had left.

"I have to say bj, that was amazing, you really outdid yourself, a perfect 10"

The moment the words left your mouth you felt the ghoul's grip tighten around you,

"You're too kind, and correct about me being a perfect 10" he flashes you his big fangs, you couldnt help but laugh.

...

You really enjoyed these nights with beetlejuice, unfortunately you're second wind of energy was about to run out, you could barely keep your eyes open, it was bad enough you're already leaning against the ghoul in question, which you were teased with.

"My jacket not enough sweets? You want to get into my pants next?" He snickers, you were really too tired to counter that comment, instead you just mumble something unintelligible and refuse to make eye contact.

The ghoul drapes an arm around you out of habbit, how you would lean against him in the summer to cool off, streaks of pink flashes through his hair as he enjoyed your warmth, your scent, you. He adored your movie nights, just you and him, he would never admit it, but simple things like this, the whole domestic thing, with you, was almost enough to get his undead heart pumping. His perfect little breather, no idea what he did to deserve you, nice, funny, and hot, now if he could get you to confess you love him first then he'd be set, but just like him you are a coward when it came to such things, but beetlejuice can wait, for now.

Snapped from his thoughts, when he clues back into what was happening in the film, he smiles.

"Oh sugar, this is the best part- oh" turning to you, he huffs out a small laugh, you were out cold.

"I'm I that boring sweetheart? Or is it the film?" He chuckles

This wasnt the first time you've done this, beej constantly complained about how hard you worked and how tired it made you, but yet would never complain when youd pass out on him, but teasing was a different ball game, he adored seeing your face scrunch up in embarrassment, how funny you sounded as you try to babble out an excuse, the demon knew you liked him, but still adored messing with you due to how funny your reactions were.

The demon was brought back from his musings with the feeling of a unfamiliar warmth on his shoulder and arm where your head rested. Closer inspection, you were drooling in your sleep, beej couldnt help but smile at this, you are NOT gonna hear the end of that, he chuckles.

You shift in your sleep, and let out a soft groan, the ghoul let's out a desperate sigh, such a beautiful sound, just enough to get his motor running.

Yes beetlejuice had a soft spot for you, but he was a very sexual being, the amount of times the ghoul has spied on you during private times were more then he could remember, the amount of times he's jerked it to the thought of you were also more then he could count, god slash satan he wanted to pound you into the mattress so bad, have you yell out praises on how good a lover he was. It's been awhile since he cleaned his pipes, with your soft warm form pressed up against him, now seems like a pretty good time, the idea of being caught was always a nice thrill, to have you catch him, may be youd be flattered and join in, as impossible as that fantasy was, it was a nice thought.

Without much further convincing, beetlejuice had already pulled his cock from his trousers, and lazily began stroking it with a third hand, the others were busy with you, on draped around you shoulders, the other absentmindedly circling the spot of drool you had made on his shoulders. Every soft noise you made, every sigh, every groan, every mumble you uttered in your sleep was fuel to the fire of the ghoul's arousal.

Stifling a groan he utters "you have no idea what you do to me sweets" still circling the drool spot you made on his shoulder, shifting a bit in you sleep, his finger slips into your mouth, the demon was quick to retreat his hand in fear youd wake up, you only scrunch up you face in response. Beetlejuice let's out a breath he didnt know he was holding, not that he needed to breath, yes he liked the idea of being caught, but in reality youd be sick to your stomach at the sight, you'd probably banish him.

Once beetlejuice realized you were out cold, he returned to his strokes, until it clicks, the hand he was circling the drool you left behind, his finger was now coded in a nice thick layer of your spit. A ghoulish grin spreads across his face, hair fully electric pink, how he dreamed of that beautiful mouth around his cock, how lovely your moans would sound with your lips around his shaft. He couldnt let this opportunity go by, the ghoul slowly begins covering his dick with your salvia, he shivers at the sensation, still warm from your mouth, the ghoul utters a muffled groan "just like that sweetheart, you're so good to me"

Beetlejuice couldnt help but imagine you, mouth hovering over his lap, drool dripping from you mouth onto his cock. He groans softly "lubing me up babes? Such a considerate breather"

Once his cock was as covered as it was gonna be with the slavia you graced him with, he once again began with his strokes, starting off at a slow gentle pace, soft moans escaping his lips, you were asleep next to him, so the ghoul couldnt be as loud as he'd like to. When you were away the ghoul would treat himself to long loud sessions of alone time using your delicate laundry items, he could be as loud as his undead heart desires, not caring about your neighbors, but now, not so much.

"God I wanna slip into that pretty mouth of yours, feel how wet and warm it is, have you lube up my cock with your salvia before I shove it in that cute pussy of yours" he stifles a groan as his strokes begin picking up pace, his eyes were glued to you sleeping face, the arm the demon had around your shoulders slowly began to draw hearts with his fingers on your back.

You mumble and shift a bit in your sleep, your hand finds it's way to his thigh, gripping on to his pants, beetlejuice nearly jumps out of his skin, he was so lost in his fantasy of you, you completely catch him off guard, but hed be lying if he didnt enjoy the scare. It felt real good to have your hand resting on his thigh while he jerked off.

"Naughty little minx, you do want to get into my pants huh?" He chuckled softly.

The thought always crossed his mind during your weekly movie night, he fantasized about how you would grow bored of the film, lean into him, and have those pretty hands of yours find their way into him pants. Having his cute breather lazily jerk him off while watching a horror film easily had to be in the top five of his fantasies of you, simple but still delicious.

"Naughty thing" the ghoul stifles a groan as his pace picks up, the thought of your hand replacing his quickly taking over his mind.

Beetlejuice was using every ounce of strength he possessed to not start bucking up into his hand, not wanting to jostle you awake since you were leaning on the ghoul. Chasing his own orgasm, his pace becomes quite harsh, to the point where the ghoul summoned an extra hand just to bite and muffle his moans.

It felt so good, having you so close to him, hand on his thigh, salvia on his cock, god slash satan he wanted to scream out in bliss, he was so close, so focused on your sleeping face, his sweet breather, so kind and considerate, using their spit as lube for a hand job, he couldnt have asked for a better breather.

"Your so good to me sugar, you know just how to treat a guy, I'm gonna pay you back, anything you want, upstairs, downstairs, butt stuff, just say the word doll~" he groans out.

"...bee.." you mumble, shifting in your sleep, ever so gently sliding your hand up his thigh, that was enough to get the ghoul to the finish line.

"F-fuck y/n" and with that the ghoul shoots his load, into his hand and his lap, thank god slash satan it missed your hand, as hot as itd be to have those pretty hands of yours covered in his cum, now was not that time.

A smug grin plastered across his face as he gazes at you a soft "thank you" is whispered your way, as he slides his now soft cock back into his pants, snapping his fingers to clean himself up as of nothing happened.

The electricity of bright pink slowly leaves his hair, being replaced with a much softer mix of pink and green, the hand around your shoulders now lazily rubbing circles on your back, the film long over, beetlejuice snaps his fingers once again and the tv turns off leaving the two of you in gentle darkness.

"Nigh sweet stuff"

Bonus

Waking up to the buzzing sound of your phone you groan, ot was your day off and yet you forgot to turn your alarm off.

"Morning babes"

No, you feel asleep on the couch again, leaving against that bastard "morning" you grumble

As you try to get up to start your day beej pulls you back down into him lap

"Oh no sugar, you're not getting away that easy~ was I so boring last night you fell asleep? After my amazing performance too, such a cruel little breather you are" he teases "not to mention you were drooling on too" he cackles pointing at the spot.

"Doll if you wanted to spit on me, I can name some better places then my arm" he hollers with his awful laugh.

You're never gonna hear the end of this.

#beetlejuice x reader #muscial beetlejuice x reader #rambling #nsft

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n0r14k1-k4ky01n · 4 years

Note

hello! this might be a bit of a weird alsk but can i request headcanons for the crusaders x reader having a vibe session at 2 in the morning? maybe they just had a rough day and decided to listen to loud music at 2am and dye their hair to make them self feel better. the reader is a bit less verbal about their emotions so they just kinda vibe to music? thank you for your time, have a nice day/night/evening!

!!! First ask, woo!!! This is actually so adorable, I love it- I'm gonna say this takes place after the Egypt trip (in an everyone lives AU, of course) so no one is pestering you to sleep for obvious reasons, lol. Also, I wasn't sure if you meant for this to be romantic or not, so I made it kinda ambiguous. You can interpret it how you like tho!!

Crusaders Having A Vibe Session With The Reader At 2AM!!

Jotaro

Jotaro... Probably doesn't sleep very well anyways.

He hears you up and moving at 2am, gives a quiet yare yare as he realizes he's not gonna get any sleep tonight, takes a few minutes to mentally prepare, and goes to check on you.

He finds you as you're waiting for the dye to set, raising an eyebrow, but not reacting much otherwise.

He's used to nonverbal communication, not to mention observant as hell, so he can tell pretty easily that you're not doing so hot.

"... Bad day?"

You just nod in response. He sighs and sits himself down next to you.

This is a rare opportunity to lean on him without being pushed off. He might even put an arm around your shoulder.

He's gonna help you with the rest of your hair if you ask, but only if you explain how, and let him pick the next few songs. He has a very specific music taste, it's a wonder he's been listening to what you put on with only a few snide comments here and there.

... But he'll still take your music taste into account too. Don't point it out, he'll deny it and get grumpy.

When all is said and done, you're definitely gonna fall asleep first. If he's up, he's up. He won't move you (other than off his shoulder) but he'll shut off the music, and if you left your phone unlocked, there's a good chance he'll shut off any alarms you have. He's sure you need the rest, even if you might get pissy that he did something like that without asking.

As long as you're feeling a bit better, he couldn't care less if you're upset at him.

Kakyoin

Either he was already out cold by midnight, or he stayed up playing videogames. Regardless, he's gonna hear the music at some point, and go out to check on you.

He shows up before you've actually dyed your hair, a more confused than he is annoyed.

"Y/N, why on earth are you up this late...?"

"You don't have room to judge, Nori."

"...Touché."

He catches on that you're not doing so hot, and sticks around, trying to fall into a comfortable silence with you.

... The key word here is "trying".

He feels really awkward being around people in the first place, especially one-on-one. Add in the fact that there's nothing but the music to keep him from overthinking...

He's piping up every little while with a fun fact about something or another. He doesn't actually know what to say, but he can't stand the silence, so that's his way of trying to fill the void. He doesn't mind if you don't respond with much more than a nod, just acknowledge that he said something and he's fine.

He let's you pick all the music. He likes just about anything, and besides, you're not doing so hot. It's the least he can do.

He'd also absolutely help you dye your hair, and he already knows how. He's definitely looked into dying his own, but is too worried it won't look better than what he already has, or that it won't look good enough to be worth the time/effort/money.

Once again, you'll probably fall asleep first. This man has trained himself well in the art of "I'm doing something, sleep can wait". An Epic Gaymer™ of the highest degree.

He'll probably try to move you to your bed, but unless he can very easily pick you up, he's just gonna leave you there. Maybe shift you so you're lying down. He just really doesn't wanna accidentally wake you up.

Avdol

I'm gonna start this one off by saying I'm so sorry, I have no idea how to write for Avdol-

Probably still up when he hears you. One of my personal headcanons is that he opens his shop in the evening and shuts it down in the day, since tarot stuff seems to be a lot more popular with the night crowd, so he's on a bit of a weird sleep schedule anyway.

Immediately concerned. He's pretty good at picking up on other people's emotions.

"Y/N, you look down. Is there anything I could do to help...?"

Just ask him to stick around and he will. He might even make you some tea, if you like it. Or like, hot chocolate. But no coffee unless it's decaf, he's not about to let you stay up later than you need to.

He's okay with the silence, actually. Will open his arms up for a cuddle, if you want. He's such a good space heater cuddler.

He doesn't really know how to help you dye your hair, but he'll try if you tell him how! Honestly, just let him know what you need in general, and he'll do it in a heartbeat... So long as it's not gonna backfire in the long run, like caffeine, or starting a big task/project (it's the middle of the night, for Pete's sake).

Might suggest listening to quieter music after you've finished with your hair, in an attempt to help you wind down and maybe fall asleep.

... But it's a 50/50 as to who actually falls asleep first. If he manages to stay up, he'll try and carry you to bed. If he can't, he's gonna wake you up and tell you to go properly lay down. He feels bad about disturbing you, but it's better than letting you sleeping funny and get a sore neck.

Polnareff

See, Polnareff needs his beauty sleep. He's out at a reasonable time, 11 at the very latest, and your music absolutely woke him up.

He's gonna stomp out of his room grumbling and groggy.

"It's 2 in the damn morning, Y/N, what the hell...?"

Not the most observant of the bunch, so for him to clue in, you'll either need to look like death, or straight up tell him you feel like shit.

Any hint of grumpiness or sleepiness is gone in an instant, replaced by a small gasp and so much worry.

This man is absolutely going to help you with your hair. Hell, if you let him, he's going to try and give you a full-blown spa experience. Face mask, nail painting, he might give you a massage!! Please indulge him, it's going to be so nice and he's going to be so happy he could help. But, if not, he's more than happy to just sit with you.

However, unless you specifically ask him to be quiet, he's going to talk your ear off. He won't mind if you don't respond, he's more than happy to just blabber about anything that crosses his mind.

Hell, even if you do ask him to hush, he's gonna struggle with it. He never stops talking, the absolute dork.

He'll suggest songs he thinks you might enjoy, and will sometimes ask if you can skip one or two that he really doesn't like, but for the most part you have free range over the music.

He's going to try so hard to stay awake, but he's used to a full 8 hours or more, so he's falling asleep first. Though, when he wakes up, he's gonna remember what happened last night and apologize profusely for passing out on you. Oh, and compliment how nice your hair looks in the natural light, of course.

Joseph

Another early sleeper. When he was younger, he'd stay up until the wee hours of the morning with no problems, but nowadays he's pretty consistent about passing out at 10 on the dot. Your music woke him up, which is impressive, because he sleeps like a rock.

Manages to be less grumpy than Polnareff when he comes out, but not by much.

"Geez, Y/N, could you please save all the noise for the daytime?"

However, he's still got his paternal instincts, and as soon as he gets a good look at you, he's gonna know somethings up.

He's gonna insist on helping dye your hair. Hell, if the dye is temporary, there's a good chance he'll ask if he can dye his too! He doesn't see why not, and besides, it might get you to smile.

That's his main goal here, actually. He'll try not to talk too much, but similarly to Kakyoin, he's not great with silence. The difference is that he's gonna fill it with terrible dad jokes and over-the-top stories rather than fun facts. But if you really want him to shush, he'll try his best. He'll get quieter the later it gets anyways. He just wants to make you happy.

Expect him to hum along to any songs he knows, but he won't ask you to play anything specific.

Absolutely going to cuddle you if you let him. He's a very good cuddler/pillow.

Although he's probably really sleepy, absolutely refuses to fall asleep first. As soon as you're out, he'll shut off the music and carry you to your bed, no matter if he struggles with it or not. Tucks you in, pats your head, the whole nine yards.

... And then he goes and passes the hell out too. He's an old man, leave him be.

#jjba #jojo part 3 #stardust crusaders #jjba imagines #jjba scenarios #jjba x reader #jotaro kujo #noriaki kakyoin #muhammad avdol #jean pierre polnareff #joseph joestar #this was a really fun first ask #thank you for requesting!!!

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minthysugamon · 3 years

Text

Why'd you only call me when you're high? (J.JK x Reader)

Drummer! Jungkook x Manager's daughter! Reader.

Warnings: Mentions of sex,drugs and alcohol. Usage of foul language (like in most of my writings bc i talk like a roadman). Friends with benefits type of relationship. Kinda angsty but also fluffy if you search for the fluff with a magnifying glass.

Word count: 2222 (hehe,angel number go brr)

A/N: I promise,i will try to do some smut but i don't feel comfy enough to write it bc idk...i just cringe when i see my writing. So sorry if it isn't what you guys expect...

3:03 am

Your phone buzzed once again. It was for the 6th time tonight in a row,so even without looking at the device,it was safe to assume that the rockstar your dad managed was probably at some pub,hammered and not even being able to call a cab for himself so he called your number. Like usual. 3:04 am. It rang again. "What? It better be an emergency cause i swear to god if you're calling because you're dru-" his laugh was as intoxicating as the liquor he had sipped on some minutes ago. "Doll,listen...i need a ride...and since your dad is our manager,it would be greatly appreciated if you came for me..." a sigh left your lips as you hang up on him.

But Jungkook didn't stop pestering you. The drummer of V2J was a pain in the ass. As shy and awkward he was in his sober times,his horndog behaviour was equalising if not surpassing his normal behaviour when he was thrashed.

You picked up the call one more time when the familiar ringtone went off. "Hey,why are you so rude,dollface? Don't you know hangin-" your words cut off his as soon as he was trying to do his monologue. "Jungkook. Like how you said it so cleverly,MY DAD is the manager. Not me. Pester him at 3 am if you have some difficulties to go home,not his daughter. Thank you. I have an exam in two days, i have to study tomorrow. Or today because at this point of the night i can't say tomorrow,so let me get the 2 hours of sleep i could still get tonight if i go to sleep in less than 10 minutes.. Leave me alone. Call Taehyung or something,i don't care. Now please don't call me again. Thanks." Then the tune of the "Hang Up" option resonated in your room once again.

Truth be told, if it would've been the first time he calls you and asks you for help at 3 in the morning,you would've helped his dumbass out,but it wasn't the case. Whenever Jungkook had some nightly problems, you were the first target in his contact list. It wasn't the first time he called you to pick him up from somewhere or to let him stay at your place for the night because he lost his keys to his appartment after a wild escapade with his bandmates to the nearest club. And it never ended with him only sleeping on your couch. It usually started at the front door and ended with him sleeping an arm around you after fucking your brains out. If he had been serious about this whole weird relationship you had, it would've been official for more than a year now,but he has to keep his rockstar persona intact. So of course,you were nothing more than the daughter of his manager who was good enough to be fucked when he was drunk or high.

At 3:36,someone rang at the interphone of your home. When you got up from your bed with a huff,you were already seeing the tatted up boy's smirk on the camera in a mental image. And you weren't wrong. His smirk was present as soon as the little screen had lit up with his face so close to it,you though he was a toddler seeing an interphone for the first time in his life. "You really came here at 3 and a half? Jeon,for fucks sake. If i get down there,i'mma beat some sense into you,so you better start running now." He simply laughed,a noise of exasperation leaving his throat. "Aw...come on (Y/n)...let me in,i lost my keys..."

You pushed on the key button,you let him in again. At this point it was exthausing because you knew what this meant. And even if you wanted to deny it,your brain wanted this to stop,but your heart was yearning for him. "I swear to god Jungkook,if you come here again at 3 am,i will stick a pipe up your ass." You unlocked the door for him and let him enter your home.

Fatal mistake because he didn't even answer,he simply pushed you against the wall and looked into your eyes,foreheads touching. "And why would you do that sweetheart? Hm? I thought you liked when i come here...for you." You can't deny it,you fell for him over the months,you fell for this idiot who liked banana milk more than anything else,who drank whisky with more cola than he should because he hated alcohol but wanted to keep his bad boy persona. But the smell of a woman on him made your heart sink. "Jungkook,please...just go and take of your shoes,i will bring you a blanket and a pillow so you can sleep on the couch."

He took your words in a hurtful way,his expression changed from flirty to genuinely hurt. "So...we aren't sleeping together like always?" You scoffed and got out of his grip. "I don't even know why i let you in. If you wanted to get your dick sucked again,you could've called one of your groupies." You disappeared in your room to search for a blanket and pillow,not that you deemed him deserving of such comfort,but he was also keen to be shivering at night without a blanket so it would be better for him to get some warmth during the dark hours. With a shaky breath,you went back to the living room and placed the pillow and comforter on the couch. "(Y/n)...what's the matter?" No answer. You didn't want to answer his question,he wasn't worthy for an answer,but his insistance was made clear when he took your hand into his and brought you closer to him. "Please...(Y/n)...answer me,i'm getting worried at this point,what's the matter?" Inhaling some fresh oxygen as the lump in your throat was only getting tighter,it finally dawned on you. You were in love with him. "Why'd you only call me when you're high?" The tears started to sting in your eyes,the drummer looked at you with a questioning expression. "High? What do you mean?" "Why'd you only call me and come here when your high?" After repeating your previous question,your voice cracked and all tears were let to flow down on your cheeks. "What? (Y/n) i really don't understand what you're talking about." "Why are you only showing interest in me when you're drunk and need to empty your balls. Is it more clear like that?" Jungkook's heart cracked at the sight of you crying because of him. He didn't want you to fall for him,not when he's at the peak of his career,but it would be a lie to say he didn't feel something for you.

"(Y/n)...come on,you know i can't be with someone. I thought that we both made this clear." His tattoed arms were still securely wrapped around you,stroking your back in the hopes of the action giving you some comfort,but as soon as you looked up to him with teary eyes,he couldn't help but let his waterworks flow too. Truth be told,Jungkook hated to see you sad,as awkward as the situation was right now,he hated seeing the one he fell for sad. "No,you made it clear for yourself. You're always acting nice with me,always closing any distance we had between us...no matter how hard i try to stay away from you,you suffocate me...if it was with hatred,it would be better,but it isn't. You're always here to fuck me up then rebuild me once you're sober. I fucking hate you for making me fall for you but i hate myself more for letting myself fall for you."

Your words were stinging. Even poisonous to his ears. Did you really hate him? And as much as it hurt him,it hurt you the same. You never really saw someone else in the hopes of being his one day,you won't blame it on him because you were the one in control of your own life,but every step you declined from someone else was to aliment the hope of being his one day. "I'm sorry...(Y/n)...i...i know you like me...but it won't work out. I do see you as more than just a friend with benefits,i do like you too...but...i can't be with you when i don't even know what tomorrow is made of." You tried to get out of his grip,but it only tightened and he brought your chin up with two fingers. "Listen,don't think i don't like you...if i didn't..you wouldn't be the first one i call to help me,fuck,i know i sound like an asshole for saying this but i do like you...i just..." he was getting ridiculous at this point and he knew it. "You just what? You don't want to miss out on someone else. I get it. You want your target list to be finished then crawl back to me when you're done." "(Y/n) it's not like tha-" you finally got out of his grip. "No. Don't say anything. I get it. But i won't be a second choice to anyone. Let alone you. Good night." You quickly wiped your tears away and went to your room,closing the door behind yourself,leaving Jungkook alone,in the dark living room.

He was tossing and turning for more than an hour now. You could hear it from your room how he was walking up and down the hall. 'I really fucked up.' he thought to himself and he wasn't wrong. You were probably the only person who would really go to hell and back for him and you were the only person he would do the same for. Then why was he acting like an asshole towards you now? Now that he was sure of your feelings,why did he have to break everything he tried to build? It couldn't end like that.

He softly knocked on your door,even if you told him to go away,he opened the door and lied down next to you,taking your body in his arms,nuzzling his face into the skin of your neck. "I'm sorry..." his soft lips placed a kiss on your neck and hands grabbed yours. "Sorry for what? For at least telling me the truth?" "(Y/n)...it's not like that...i just don't want to fuck things up. I prefer to fuck it up now than once we're together. I...i do love you...i heard the bells and the fireworks as soon as i saw you...but i don't want to fuck this up. Simply because i know how fans are,how groupies are. I prefer you seeing my fuckboy image than the real me,as much as i hate it though." You turned around,facing him,still in his clutch. "Well too late dumbass,i fell for the awkward and nice you,the one i see during studio hours,during practice,not this...whole flirty fuckboy persona that i get to see at every thursday at 3 am." He inhaled then kissed your forehead,bringing you closer to him. "It's too late for me to ask you to be my girlfriend...right? I don't want things to end...and,if the only way for me to stay with you is to put that image aside,i'm willing to do it." You sighed. He was still in the wrong. You didn't want him to change for you,but for him. To be himself again. "Jungkook,you don't understand...i want you to be you. I don't want you to rush into things because you don't want to lose me. Plus,you might not like a relationship,so if you don't want one right now,then leave me alone and don't make me fall for you more."

He shut you up before you could go on your monologue with a kiss. Not a rushed one like usually. But a soft one. One that tasted like cigarettes,monster,alcohol and love. "I love you...and starting a relationship now...or in 5 years...it won't change shit...no matter what i think now. I...after thinking about it...what you said...you're right. If i don't jump in right now...what will it change in 2 or 5 years? Nothing...i will still be the same if i don't change now." His frown turned into a small smile when he felt your nose in his neck,a light peck on his skin and your hands on his back. "So...you really want to start something with me...out of love and not out of pity?" He smacked the back of your head,out of habit but also out of outrage,he didn't want you to think he was doing this out of pity. "You dumbass,i want to be with you. I really want to. Out of love. Not because i pity you. You are probably the only person who would accept my headassery...and i love you. So please...don't ever think i would do this brcause of pity." You simply laughed,still sniffing a little bit and cupped his cheeks. "Good,because...i love you too." He kissed you first,again. Now with more passion though. His hands roaming around your back and ribcage,then on your waist,he couldn't help but pull you closer,until it couldn't be done anymore. "I know you do...now...shouldn't we sleep..? Because it's half past five...and you have to wake up at 10 so you can study..." You kissed his neck once more then placed your head on his chest. "It's already almost 6..might as well watch some cartoons and eat breakfast,no?" Jungkook's face lit up like a child's at the candy store. "Now i know why i heard the bells and the fireworks when i saw you."

I hope you guys enjoyed this,i kinda made it longer than most of my writings,but i still hope it's okay!

My requests are always open,so please,if you have something to request,i am more than happy to do it!

#bts #bts scenarios #bts imagines #jungkook #bts au #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #bts angst #bts fluff #rockstar bts au #drummer au #bts drummer au #jungkook drummer au

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bonesaldente · 3 years

Text

Ferocious I Darth Maul x Reader

Chapter 10: Trust

last chapter

all chapters

ao3

warnings: nudity, mildly suggestive language

words: 4000+

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note: For… reasons, this is an alternate universe in which space ships have actual showers with water, not just sonic showers. Also, Maul’s cybernetics are waterproof. I don’t make the rules... wait- I do. Also, make sure to read the end notes today :)

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Stars, you hate it here.

Everything, from the endless nights to the lack of clean water and the ever-looming prospect of going to prison increases your motivation to somehow fix the communicator yourself and run off before Kenobi can take you with him, leaving him stranded on the planet.

For exactly a decade, just to be even.

“It should work,” Kenobi remarks with very apparent annoyance. “Everything is connected and the power source is on.”

“Well, it’s obviously not working.”

“Thank you for your observation.” He drops his hands into his lap, looking quite defeated. And tired.

While you’ve been keeping some structure in your days, he’s been working tirelessly on repairing that communicator. Until he did tire out, occasionally.

Now was one of these occasions.

“I’m losing focus and I can hardly see anything. It’ll be best to continue when the sun comes back up again.”

Which is precisely what you were hoping he’d say, but you still force yourself to make another snide comment. “Maybe it’ll fix itself while you’re resting and we are magically transported off this planet.”

He pays you no mind and heads to what’s become his sleeping spot over the past days - or has it been over a week already?

“I trust you’ll keep watch?”

You just huff, but don’t refuse his request. It is an agreement you’ve come to quite early on when you both realized that the death of one would make the other’s survival significantly less likely. So while he sleeps, you make sure no animals sneak up and attack him, which, apart from the “dinner” incident a few days ago, only happened once, but still rattled him enough to make him remind you of your duty evry time he went to sleep.

Except tonight, you plan on shifting your attention to something completely different.

You have not, in fact, come to terms with the probable reality that you’ll spend the rest of your days in a prison of the Republic. Instead, you’ve been observing what exactly Kenobi is doing to repair the life-saving device and despite your lack of aptitude in such things, you, too, see that the communicator should - in theory - work. Kenobi is overworked and agitated; it would only be natural for him to miss something.

Something you might be able to catch and use to your advantage.

You remain still where you are until you hear his quiet breaths evening out, indicating he has fallen asleep.

“Kenobi?” You whisper into the silence, a last test to check if he is still conscious.

No response.

Your heart beats fast in your chest, all too aware of how pressing time is. For some reason, this man rarely sleeps more than two hours at a time, which could be partially blamed on you for always nagging at him when he isn’t trying to fix the communicator. But then again, you have the feeling that he usually doesn’t have very different habits.

With the kind of stealth only someone who has been trained in these arts could bring up, you sneak across the clearing to where the source of all your troubles and hope lies on the ground.

The device has been taken out of the starfighters cockpit and thus looks pretty out of place and… unfinished. But you know better, having watched the Jedi dismantle and reassemble every little piece.

The metal glints in the shine of your flashlight as you crouch to be on eye-level with the device. At first glance everything seems to be in order, just like the Jedi remarked, but that is not acceptable. Fixing the cursed thing before Kenobi is your only way to freedom and you will not allow your own incompetence to stand in your way.

So you look again. And again.

You shine light into every little corner, every port, under every wire and in between each panel. Time is passing too quickly, you are aware, and your chances are dwindling.

But then you see it.

Tiny and inconspicuous, something organic - a seed maybe - is blocking one of the loose wires from connecting with its respective port.

You bite your lip to suppress a victorious exclamation, looking over your shoulder to check if Kenobi is still fast asleep.

Heart thrumming in your ears, you take a deep breath to calm your nerves and steady your hand for the task ahead. Cautiously, you lift some of the metal paneling to give you access to the section, fingers weaving through the wires with extra care since many of them are not firmly in place due to the crash and were only pinned to their receptors by Kenobi.

At last, your fingertips graze the disruptive piece of forest that has made it so far into the technology. Slowly, you remove it from its spot, moving the wire back to where it was supposed to connect.

Now let’s try this.

You turn the power on, holding your breath and praying to whatever force there is out there that it won’t make any noise.

A quiet whir is the only indication that the power is flowing, causing a small smile to creep over your hidden features. The display comes to life, faintly glowing blue. You throw looks over your shoulder every few seconds, hastily pressing the buttons to type in the private comm information Maul and all his commanding warriors kept as a backup for emergencies. You have no idea how many emergencies must have occurred in these past weeks, but you hope your message won’t be drowned out by others. This is the only shot you get.

You pick some coordinates that, if your knowledge of space navigation isn’t misleading you, should be a few miles north of your current location, then sign the message with ‘ -S ’ .

You stare at the numbers, forcing your mind to absorb them, then you hit send and a series of green lights tells you it at least went out successfully, meaning all you can do now is to hope that it will be received the same way.

Kenobi is still fast asleep, chest rising and falling steadily. You almost feel sorry for what you’re about to do, but there really aren’t many alternatives.

You take out a small vial from a pocket in your belt, filling a syringe with it. It’s been a while since you last used it, but you made sure you always have some tranquilizers on you, and now you’re thankful for that.

On your tiptoes, you sneak to Kenobi’s sleeping form, narrowing your eyes to make out the exposed skin on his neck.

The needle is buried in his neck in a matter of seconds and his eyes shoot open in shock and confusion while his hands fly to his neck.

“Why-”

“Nothing personal,” you assure him when his eyelids droop and his words lose coherence.

Normally, this should knock a person out for at least three hours, but you don’t know how a force sensitivity might influence that. One way or another, you should take off now and get as big a headstart as you can. But first, one more thing.

You give the heap of beige robes that is the Jedi knight one more almost regretful look, then you crush the communicator beneath your heel. Can’t risk him calling for Republic forces while you’re still in the area after all, and you’d have no way of taking the device with you, since it’s hooked up to the ship wreckage.

Why you spare his life, you don’t know, and you’d rather not spend too much time thinking about it. Perhaps you should kill him, after all he’s done to Maul, and why your conscience decides to pipe up now of all times will remain a mystery. You have killed people in less honorable ways, but…

“Ugh,” you grunt, finally turning your back on the Jedi and starting your journey north.

“Maul! Maul, come here!”

He jerks up, briefly having fallen asleep leaned against the wall. For a second, he fully expects to see your gleaming eyes staring back at him, that’s how familiar the voice is. It takes him a moment to understand that it’s not you, but Loa calling him.

Which is supremely peculiar, because the young woman rarely ever addresses him, let alone command him.

He is out of the room, your room, in a flash, looking over Loa’s shoulder at the message displayed a second later.

Both of his hearts seem to skip a beat.

The message consists of nothing but a set of coordinates, the only indication of its origin the ‘ -S ’ with which it is signed.

S as in… Spectress?

It must be you. There is no one else with access to this line of communication who would send this kind of message.

Loa gapes at the writing.

“It’s… It’s her, isn’t it? It’s gotta be her, I’m…”

“Set course,” is his only response, sitting down in the copilot’s seat, several scenarios already running through his mind.

“Looks like some type of… forest moon,” She remarks, readying the ship for hyperspace with outstanding speed and routine. You weren’t exaggerating at all when you said she had become a good pilot.

He ponders for a minute. If you are somehow stranded there, they won’t need reinforcement, with their forces stretched thin as it is. But if any threats lurk nearby and he puts your little sister in danger…

He will die by your hand, then. Or his own.

“How long?”

“Estimate of four hours.”

“Very well. I will try to find out what to expect when we arrive there.”

According to his sources, there has been no Republic activity in the system in question over the past month - that’s what he found out after two hours of vehement research. Really, he already knew that after thirty minutes, but you being so close yet so far from him drove him to bury himself in databanks and records by his spies.

His thoughts travel to a darker place.

He doesn’t know what state you’ll be in when he finds you - if he finds you. And even if you’re fine, everything else is far from fine. Mandalore, the crime syndicate and most of all, Savage…

Something on the dresser that takes up most of the cramped space clatters to the floor when he loses control of the chaotic force inside him and he flinches, immediately worrying he broke something of importance to you. After all, he has taken up residence in what used to be your small quarters on your ship, before everything happened, before you joined the Death Watch, before you saw him again.

When you were still living relatively safe, off the Republic’s radars.

Out of Master’s reach.

It’s been torturing him every waking moment to think that you might meet the same end that Savage did. The speculation of what could have been if he hadn’t reentered your life has become a constant in his mind. Because if he ever has to see the life fade out of your eyes, the way he saw the nightsister magick leave Savage when he exhaled his last breath, he isn’t sure he could forgive the galaxy. He vows to himself, already vowed to himself few days after he first laid eyes on you, that he will do anything to keep that fiery soul safe.

His fingers run over the cold piece of metal that has fallen, curiously examining it. No, not normal metal, beskar . There are letters forged into it, but they look like traditional Mando’a scripture, which he is still unpracticed in reading.

He contemplates putting it into the uppermost drawer, lest it get lost during more daring flight maneuvers, but he hesitates. He’s never opened any of the drawers, despite the very persistent curiosity he felt. The last he’d want is to invade your privacy; you hadn’t even consented to him sleeping in your private space (although he doubts you would mind after he has literally slept with you).

Maul makes up his mind and pulls the drawer open, not intending to even look, but his gaze still gets caught.

He expected to find clothes, maybe, or, knowing you, weapons. What he finds instead is a collection of… trinkets.

It’s not new to him that you have a tendency to collect items, sometimes out of sentiment, sometimes as a trophy. He didn’t realize you kept them so meticulously stored.

It’s quite endearing, he thinks.

Some of the items he recalls you talking about, but others seem entirely random. His eyes linger on a piece of flimsiplast that looks like a child has drawn on it.

He is tempted to take it out and hold it into the light, but quickly realizes that it would go against his original decision not to pry.

There is so much personal history collected in that small space. Dozens of untold stories, so many parts of your life that he missed.

He won’t rest until he knows you’ll still be able to tell them.

Oddly enough, you miss Kenobi. More precisely, you miss his ability to sense danger before it has reached you.

Every little noise startles you, every swish of wind making your heart stop and you increase your speed a little.

By now, you’re nearly running through the woods, less than half a mile away from the coordinates you chose.

Chances are, he has woken up by now. And you’re not stupid; you know it’ll be easy for him to track you down when there is no civilization around. From what your understanding of the force is, he should be able to sense your force signature from a larger distance when there is nothing else to disrupt it. That also means that he will be hot on your tail, so whoever shows up to rescue you better hurry .

With a heavy heart, you turn off your flashlight and lean against a tree while you remove your mask for better air supply and allow your eyes to adjust. It still takes so kriffing long, you wonder if that’ll ever change.

If Kenobi finds you first, it won’t make much of a difference.

You get moving again, slower but also less of a beacon in the dark.

The trees start coming in more sparsely now, until you can actually see farther than twenty feet without trees blocking your view. This allows you to pick up speed again and thus make up for the darkness that is slowing you down, until the landscape is so open that you’re actually running now.

And that’s when you hear them.

Branches cracking somewhere behind you.

Probably just the wind. Keep going.

The dull thud of feet hitting the ground makes your breath catch in your throat.

So maybe he did wake up earlier than anticipated.

You whirl around, seeing nothing but his black silhouette and desperately wishing for a lightsaber, which you - unwisely - have sworn off after the Naboo incident. That, and running around wielding a lightsaber wasn’t exactly the level of subtlety you were going for at the time.

But now, you could really use it.

“I spared your life!” You yell.

“And destroyed my only way away from here,” he responds, sounding almost hurt as he makes slow steps towards you. You take just as many backwards.

Something in the sky beyond him catches your eye and suddenly, the situation looks different.

“I’ve got to look out for myself first,” you argue. “Surely, you understand that.”

“You know I can’t let you go.”

“I do,” you say serenely, taking a deep breath, then whirling around to make a run for it.

You don’t need to look over your shoulder to know he is following you and, even worse, gaining on you.

The small headstart you got, combined with the distance between you two in the first place isn’t nearly enough, even though you are in great shape and a truly fast runner.

The ship you spotted earlier now flies over your head, approaching the ground and you could laugh and cry at the same time. It’s not just any ship, it’s your ship. Your home, and aboard, you hope, your family.

It doesn’t touch the ground, but it flies low enough to be accessible from the ground while slowing to a speed that should allow for you to jump on, if you could only run a little faster.

Damn, ten years ago this would have been easier.

The blast door in the back, only about twenty feet away from you, slides open, revealing a figure that even in the dark you can make out to be…

Maul.

He extends his hand and you instantly know what he wants you to do.

So, you take a deep breath and jump .

The moment your feet leave the ground you feel the tug of the force pulling you to the zabrak while your own hand reaches forward and you fly through the air, until your hand finally reaches Maul’s.

You are not safe yet, still hanging from the edge of the ship when you suddenly feel a different pull on one of your ankles. Your eyes widen in shock and you try to tell Maul that it’s Kenobi, he is pulling you back, but all that you manage is a terrified shriek when your hand almost slips out of his at a particularly strong pull backwards.

Not this time, Kenobi.

Your determination sets in and you look down to see Kenobi standing still, arms extended to manipulate the force. With your one free hand, you reach for your blaster, aiming and-

The hold on your ankle abruptly loosens and you are yanked on board at once, the blast door sliding shut immediately, drowning out the deafening sound of wind.

You are panting, sprawled out on the floor, not even realizing that you did it .

“Hyperspace, as soon as possible,” you distantly hear Maul say, but the thrumming of your heart is too loud to properly hear his voice, until he somehow sits you up and…

Embraces you.

Warm fingers run through your messy hair, soft murmurs that you can’t quite understand coming from right next to your ear.

“I’m filthy,” you protest weakly, half-heartedly trying to free yourself from his hold but he only holds on tighter and at last you melt into the affection, burying your face in his neck.

“Is Loa…?”

“In the cockpit,” he instantly calms your worries and you sigh happily. For a moment, everything is alright.

“What did I miss?” You eventually muster up the courage to ask.

His grip tightens so much you can feel his fingertips dig into your hip and you immediately know something bad happened.

“It was… Master. He killed Savage.”

Your heart sinks, the previous relief replaced by a dark type of sadness. There is anger and, most dominantly, fear.

The Sith lord doesn’t intend on letting Maul off, which by extension also means there is a target on everyone he surrounds himself with.

You can’t even find words to console him, only taking in a shaky breath against his skin and whispering, "I'm sorry."

"He's free now."

Eventually, you find the strength to get up, tiredly patting over to the cockpit.

“Hey.” Loa presses a few last buttons, then jumps up and crushes you in a tight hug.

“I thought I would never see you again.”

“You know me better than that,” you retort mildly.

“I suppose so,” she sighs, holding you at an arm’s length. “You need a shower,” she assesses, plucking a leaf from your hair.

Self-consciously you run a hand through the tangles, then look down at your muddy clothes.

“I agree.”

Maul waits for you when you leave the cockpit, immediately taking your hand as if to reassure himself that you are truly there.

“Missed me?” You joke half-heartedly, doing nothing to hide the way the tension seems to melt from your body at the touch.

“Every minute,” he answers earnestly, not a hint of a joke in his voice.

“Come with me, then,” you offer, making your way to the refresher and pulling him along. As expected, he follows you all too willingly, thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand.

You don’t even bother undressing all the way before getting under the water stream, suddenly realizing how much you’ve been longing for it. While your clothes soak, the water pooling around your feet turns a muddy brown as the dirt from the forest is finally washed off.

Maul steps in the small shower behind you, holding a hand into the falling water.

“That’s cold,” he states.

“Not for me, it’s not.” You eye his frown. “But we can turn the temperature up.”

The heat does feel good, and not much later you finally attempt to peel off the remaining layers of clothing. Red tattooed hands come to your aid fast and within seconds, your skin is completely exposed, the stress of the past weeks running down the drain along with the dirt and… blood?

You bring a hand up to touch your forehead at the same time that a scowl makes its way on Maul’s face.

“Kenobi,” he growls, but you shake your head.

“That’s from when I crashed the starfighter.” You examine your bloodied fingers with moderate interest. “I think it’s healed already, that’s just dried blood coming off.”

He huffs, lightly running a finger over the area on your face.

“Any other injuries?” His eyes roam your body, not in a sexual, but in a concerned manner.

“None I can think of,” you sigh as he gathers soap in his hands, closing your eyes for a moment as the warm water runs over your face. When you don’t hear another noise from Maul, you open your eyes again, only to find him staring at you with something like bewilderment in his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

He responds by crashing his lips into yours, expressing so many emotions through his actions that he otherwise can’t find the words for. You very nearly fall at the suddenness of it, but his arms are wrapped around you in a heartbeat, pressing you into his chest and giving you the skin-to-skin contact you’ve been missing so terribly.

Your eyes water as emotions overcome you, the relief, the sorrow, the uncertainty and… guilt.

When you break apart, his are shining in a similar way.

You lean against the weapons locker, facing the ceiling while you let the details of your situation soak in. The havoc that was wreaked on Mandalore by the resistant Mandalorians, the coming and going of the crime families, and the looming threat of Sidious’ grand plan finally coming together.

“I have a suggestion,” you begin slowly. “But you’re not going to like it.”

“Go on.”

“The Jedi are not our main enemy anymore, if what you foresee comes true.” You recall him talking about the envisioned destruction of the Jedi order, something that Sidious has been plotting for a long time. “If we give them the right tools to do so, it’ll be them who need to fight him, not you. Not any of us.” Your eyes dart to the cockpit where your sister is holed up.

“Tools, such as… knowledge?” He touches his chin the way he always does when he mulls over an idea.

“Sidious is but one man. He only thrives on secrecy, so if we-”

“A Jedi will never cooperate with a Sith .” He snarls. “Their self-righteousness wouldn’t allow it.”

“Maybe not.” You sigh with exhaustion. “All I know is that the better equipped the Jedi, the higher the chance of them actually defeating Sidious before it’s too late. And that’s why I have another proposition.”

“What is it?”

“We make a small transmission to the Republic fleet, sending them the same coordinates I sent you.”

“You’re trying to save Kenobi?” He doesn’t sound angered, he sounds… surprised.

“As much as I dislike him, he is one of their more capable knights, and it’s become pretty obvious he and his padawan are quite invested in uncovering Sidious’ identity.”

You are astounded he even considers the idea.

“Also, helping him could be interpreted as a show of good faith. Might get them off our back for some time, until we figure out who to fight,” you add.

For a minute, he remains silent. Then, his arm is wrapped around your waist and his lips brush over your temple.

“I trust your judgment,” he mumbles. “Do what you believe is right.”

___

SOOO, after a two week delay, I have elected to post once more... my bad. In the next 2-4 weeks I’d like to edit and improve the older chapters because I’m not 100% happy with the writing in them anymore, so because of that there won’t be another update during that time. Don’t worry though, I’m not done yet, the story will go on - just after a short break :,)

@princessayveke @spaghetti-666 @noiralei @larawl @secretnerd00 @bagpipes606 @zabrak-show @brilliantbutbatty @eleine-t1d

#darth maul #maul #darth maul x reader #maul x reader #darth maul x you

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brandyllyn · 3 years

Text

War makes thieves, and peace hangs them (pt10)

Told from POV of Triple Frontier characters and while it’s an OFC she is never described. Her “name” is a radio handle.

Chapter 10: Wildcat and Pope talk.

(Santiago Garcia x Reader)

Other chapters... My Masterlist

Word count: 2300. Read it on AO3.

Rating: NC-17 (Explicit) language. oral (m receiving). PiV sex. unprotected sex.

"No. Not just no but fuck no."

Santi sighs. It was late and they’d been having this argument for the better part of the night. The hotel bar had already closed down, the five of them in a corner nursing their last drinks and arguing. Well, somewhat arguing - they were all in agreement, everyone but Wildcat. "We need a sixth man. There’s no one else down here I trust. It’s final."

"Good for you Pope," she snaps, arms crossed. "But I’m not one of your men and I’m not working with him. You can find someone else to squeeze their ass into that drain pipe."

Santi looks at Will for help and the man shrugs as he tries to convince her. "Cat, I know he didn’t make a good first impression but he’s a solid guy. I wouldn’t be down here if it wasn’t for him. We all trust him with our lives."

Her expression is still mulish, arms crossed.

"We’ve all worked together for years," Frankie tries in a more cajoling tone. "We went through the service together." Santi notes the unspoken implication - that she is the odd one out. Which was true. They all had better reasons to want Redfly back on the team than they had to keep her on the team. But she was also right that none of them would be able to squeeze down that drainpipe and disable the security system. If it came down to a vote she would be out - but it wouldn’t come to that because they couldn’t do it without her.

"What about you," she asks Ben. "You going to try and talk me into this?"

It occurs to Santi that he probably should have started with Ben - since he was the person Wildcat had known the longest. Her contact and the reason she was on the team at all. He sees Ben sigh and lean his elbows on the table, looking Wildcat in the eye. "He’s like a brother Cat. If you trust me you trust him."

"Fine," she huffs after a minute. "But I don’t want him near me."

"Done," Santi says, slapping a hand on the table. He raises an eyebrow at Will and Will nods and pushes himself away, to go get Tom out of his hotel room and talk him into this op. The rest of them finish their drinks and then head upstairs to their rooms. Santi hesitates on the first floor landing, hoping Wildcat might invite him back to her room but she just says her goodbyes and continues up to the next level.

In his room, Santi settles at the small desk and goes through the plans. The recon from the day and the information from the day before. It was a tight plan. In and out in under an hour. They could count on at least one vehicle being left behind, Lorea would never leave himself without transport. The drainage pipe was mapped straight up to the house, leading into a grate in the basement. Video of the house showed that the grate was about 18 inches and offset. A tiny gap but one Wildcat swore she could fit through. If she couldn’t get there or there was no way out, they were going to have to go to plan b which was a hell of a lot messier than plan a and one he didn’t really want to do.

He checks the arrangement for a third time, or maybe a fourth. The lawyer in Lima was already on retainer. Will would have a heavy lift ready for them at the runway. It was a lot of variables. A lot of things that would need to go right.

His thoughts are interrupted by a knock at his door and he pushes himself away from the desk and stands, cracking his back with a low moan.

"It’s me," a voice says before he gets there and he opens the door without looking. It’s Wildcat, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe. She raises an eyebrow and he steps into the room, motioning her inside.

"I don’t like it," is the first thing she says and Santi sighs.

"If you’ve come her to-"

But she cuts him off. "No. I made my decision and I’ll stick to it. But I don’t like it. And I was in my room not liking it and that was about to become my whole night." She sits on the edge of the bed, bouncing a little before looking up at him. "So I came here hoping you might distract me."

"Oh really?" He asks, standing over her. "Is that all I am to you? A distraction?"

She tilts her head and looks at him for a moment. Shit. He’d meant for that to sound more playful but she looks like she’s taking him seriously. He opens his mouth to say something. Something flirtatious so he can move on to getting her naked but she gets her words out first.

"We’re not on the same side Santi, I don’t think we can ever be more than distractions for each other."

He groans, leaning back against the wall and shoving his hands in his pockets. Not the conversation he wanted to have but it was probably inevitable. "What do you mean?"

"Why are you doing this?" When he gives her a questioning look she explains, "Why are you down here? Why this mission and not some other?"

"Because Lorea needs to be taken out."

"Right." She leans back on her hands, giving him a small sad smile. "Do you know why I’m here? Because you’re paying me to be. And I’ve been promised a chunk of a significant amount of money. You’re a good man Santiago Pope Garcia. And I am …not."

He smiles at the emphasis she puts on his handle and sits on the bed next to her, leaning his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands between his legs. "I don’t believe that."

"Ask me."

The words fall between the two of them like bricks and Santi sighs. "I don’t want to know."

"Yeah you do," she turns to him, pulling one leg onto the bed. "You’ve been dying to know since you first asked. So… ask me again. And I’ll tell you."

"Let me rephrase," he says, taking one of her hands. "I don’t need to know what happened. You’re who you are. And I kind of like who you are." He turns her palm over, bringing it up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the center.

"You are a good man," she says and he smiles into her hand.

"Not sure that’s what a man wants to hear when he’s got a beautiful woman on his bed."

"Oh?" She shifts to the floor, kneeling between his spread legs, her hands on his thighs. "What if she’s here?"

"Mmm, maybe," he hums, enjoying the feeling of her fingers stroking along his legs.

"What if she’s…?" She leans forward, biting at his shirt and pulling it from his jeans, then nuzzling her nose beneath and against his skin.

"Better," he breathes and when she reaches up to push on his chest he falls back to the bed without hesitation, threading his hands into her hair as she unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants and underwear to his knees.

"You are a good man with a beautiful cock."

Santi can feel his body shaking, he’s laughing, and then she takes his beautiful cock into her mouth and his laugh turns into a groan. She hums around him, a little pleased noise that shoots straight into his heart and lodges there and it occurs to him that this woman is dangerous - in more ways than one.

But then she’s sucking on him, moving her mouth along his cock, releasing him to kiss his balls, and any conscious thoughts he has turns into mush and an overarching need to be inside of her. He pulls gently at her hair but doesn’t force her, just shows her what he wants - what his body is clamoring for. She follows, running her tongue up the underside of his cock and he moans. He feels her fingers wrap around him, her warm mouth closing over him again. Her other hand moves to grip his hip just as he thrusts up into her, unable to help the small movement. But she holds him down, working him with one hand and her mouth.

"Come here," he whispers after a minute, reaching down to cup her cheek and scooting backwards on the bed, out of her reach. She releases him from her mouth, looking up at him with a quizzical expression. He smiles back. "Come here hot stuff," he says again, holding one of his hands out.

She takes it, sliding her body next to his on the comforter and he turns towards her, tilting her face up to his with one hand and kissing her. She tastes different, a little bit like him, and he feels himself get even harder if that was at all possible. Her hands are on his shirt and he shrugs out of it, kicking his shoes off and pushing the rest of his clothes to the floor. She’s already got her shirt off, kneeling on the bed next to him and he sits up, pulling her into his arms and taking her breast into his mouth - as much as he can - tongue flicking across the nipple. She wraps her arms around his head, back arching and panting his name.

They take the rest of her clothes off together and then he guides her to face away from him, kneeling on the bed with his thighs between hers and settling her back against his chest. She lets her head hang back on his shoulder, exposing her neck and her body to him. He presses hot kisses to her shoulder, sucking on the fading bruise on her neck, making it stand out once again. He rests his hand to her stomach before sliding down, the other cupping her breast and gently rolling her nipple between his fingers. She squirming against him, her hands gripping his arms, her body rolling against his cock and he can’t help but rock himself into the cleft of her ass.

His fingers slip into her easily, fuck she was wet and ready for him, and they both groan. He runs one finger across her clit before sliding down to slip just a bit inside of her. Then back, gliding across her clit before sliding down to press inside her. And again. And again. Her high pitched gasps fill the room and he hides a smile against her neck. He nuzzles her cheek, willing her to turn to him and when she does he kisses her, thrusting a tongue inside her at the same moment as he does the same with two fingers between her legs.

It’s a miracle he holds on to her. She jerks in his embrace, back arching and her nails digging into his wrists. He shifts behind her, spreading her knees slightly wider and then pulling his hand free of her so he can reach down and settle his cock against her entrance, adjust her position just slightly so he can slide inside of her. Fuck she feels good. Tight and hot and so unbearably wet he can’t think straight. The angle is wrong to thrust deep, but her muscles squeeze around the head of him and he takes her in short, sharp snaps of his hips. Each one drawing a small cry from her. He can feel her fingers moving over her clit and he grips her hip in one hand to hold her steady, pinches her nipples with the other. She’s gasping, tongue licking at his lips and when she comes he captures the noise. Licks it from inside her mouth.

He can feel his own orgasm coming fast, how slick and wet and hot she feels against his… fuck. He has the presence of mind to pull away from her, to pull out, and then he comes against her. Her clit, her thighs, the bed.

He wraps his arms tightly around hers, burying his face in between her neck and shoulder. Holding her as she drifts back to him and his own body stops shaking. When his brain is working again he shuts his eyes and curses quietly to himself.

"Fuck I’m sorry."

She freezes, he can feel her lips move through his hair as she turns to him. "For what?"

"I forgot the condom."

He can hear the intake of air she makes, the stiffness of her body. Then she sighs. "Are you-?"

"Yes," he answers quickly. "Test was recent."

She nods. "Me too. And there’s no… there’s no other concerns."

He huffs a breath of relief. He’d never done that. Never gotten so caught up in someone he forgot to be safe about it. Hell, he’d only ever been skin to skin with one other woman in his life. And he’d thought he was going to marry her.

Wildcat shivers and Santi wraps his arms tighter, gently maneuvering them down to one side of the bed and reaching over her to grab the edge of the blankets. He cocoons them together, even though the blanket isn’t quite wide enough and his ass is hanging out in the cold air. But she seems warm and cozy, shimmying herself around until she’s facing him, palms to his chest.

"We should get up. You made a mess," she mumbles and he kisses her forehead.

"In a minute," he whispers back, snuggling her closer.

A minute turns into ten. He notes idly, as he starts to nod off, that even if she wanted to leave before he woke up, there was no way she was going to manage that with how tightly he has her rolled up with him. The thought makes him smile and he feels her hands stroking him gently, probably unconsciously given her even breathing.

In a minute ends up being the entire night.

Pt11

#santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x ofc #triple frontier #writing

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kaweeella · 3 years

Text

Haunted

Chapter 1- People Say I’m Haunted, Too

Summary- Virgil, Janus and Remus, high school friends, move in to an old house together. The creaky floors, rundown-looking exterior and the rumors of ghosts really work with their aesthetic.

Warnings for swearing and talks about injuries (let me know if I missed something!!!)

Janus, Remus and Virgil had been friends since high school. If they were in a movie they’d be considered the “outcasts”.

The first to meet were Virgil and Janus. They both didn’t talk much, though for different reasons. Talking to people made Virgil uncomfortable, while Janus’s demeanor intimidated people. The large scar and ocular prosthesis didn’t really help.

One day Virgil was sitting by himself at lunch, as he normally did, when Janus sat across from them. Virgil was nervous, they didn’t really know each other, but he didn’t say anything. Neither did Janus. It was like that for a while, just sitting in silence.

It had been about two weeks since that started and it was about time someone made a move. Virgil took in a deep breath, trying to steal his nerves. He looked up when Janus sat down, his heart was pounding.

“Hey.” He said.

Janus looked up in surprise. “Hello.”

He did it. Mission accomplished. After that, the silence became more comfortable for Virgil.

Remus, on the other hand, used to be pretty popular. He was talkative and sociable. But one day his behavior changed. He got louder and started saying uncomfortable things. It was pretty surprising to the two of them when he came barreling towards their table.

He had started wearing black more, his skin was pale and had bags under his eyes. He had also bleached his hair, which was tangled and disheveled.

“Hey! Where'd you get that scar?” Janus just glanced over. “Oh! Oh! Let me guess! Fire?” He shook his head. “Acid?”

“No.”

“Shrapnel?”

Virgil might not have looked it, but he’s very observant. He noticed the way Janus tensed when Remus asked and the ways his eye shifted with each continuous question.

“Hey, knock it off already. You’re making him uncomfortable.”

He looked confused for a moment. “I am?” Janus gave a small nod. “Oh… sorry.”

“It’s alright. I’ve heard worse.”

“Well… I’m Remus, by the way!”

After that, he came over every day. He filled the silence with whatever came to mind. They didn’t mind it as much as they thought they would.

When they graduated they decided to share a house, as it would be cheaper.

Now, the three of them check out the new house. It’s a little rundown, but Virgil doesn’t really mind it.

“Bit of a fixer-upper, aint it.” Remus sets his bag down, which looks like it’s about to burst.

“Well, it was the cheapest I could find.” Janus says. “If you have any complaints then you’re free to look yourself.”

“I’m not complaining! It’s pretty great.”

“Well that’s good.” Janus starts heading toward the door, but pauses. “Oh yeah, I’ve talked to some of the neighbors. They talked about it being haunted.”

“And you believed them?” Virgil quirks an eyebrow.

“Yeah, and you know, the neighbors called me haunted, that doesn’t mean I am.”

Janus chuckles. “Of course I don’t, though it is pretty interesting, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, besides, that really matches the aesthetic.”

The three enter, and the cold that Virgil feels juxtaposed against the heat outside causes him to shiver, even with his jacket.

“God, we need to get a heater.”

“Right, but we can get to that later.”

The three get to unpacking. Remus claims the largest room, licking the doorknob to solidify his territory.

“So, Virgil, how do you wanna decorate your room?” Janus asks as he sets a box on the kitchen counter.

“How do you think I’m gonna decorate it?” He laughs.

They’re startled by a loud thud, which is Remus, having jumped down the stairs.

“Well, at least we know the floor is sturdy.” Virgil says, helping him up.

“And creaky!” Remus demonstrates this by stepping repeatedly on a floorboard.

“Alright we get it, you can stop now.”

He does, looking back at the stairs. “I bet $10 that I can jump back up there.”

“$15 you can’t.”

“Oh you’re on, Emo!”

About half an hour is spent on Remus throwing himself up and down the stairs. Janus notices small bruises growing on his legs.

“Alright, that’s enough,” He steps in, “Let’s get back to unpacking. I’m gonna get the first aid kit.”

“Oh, alright.” Remus grumbles. He starts to get up, but flinches and falls back down. “Dammit.”

“Play shitty games, get shitty prizes.”

They help Remus over to a proper seat and get back to work.

“So,” Janus starts as they clean up one of the bedrooms. “You wanna buy fake Halloween spiderwebs, or do you want to let the actual spiders just do their thing?”

He hums for a minute. “I’ll decide later.”

They work in silence for a while, then Virgil pipes up. “Hey, when do you think the ghosts will show themselves?”

“Hmm… maybe about three days? Maybe a few small things before the real show starts.”

“Small things? What, like moving things and opening doors?”

“Yeah, maybe a whisper here and there.”

“Really? You think they’ll whisper sweet nothings into my ear?” The two look over to see Remus leaning against the door frame.

“What the hell, dude?” Virgil asks. “And you shouldn’t move too much.”

“I’ll move however much I want. Besides, it doesn’t even hurt that much.” He stands straight to demonstrate that, though he winces a little. “See? Perfectly fine.”

“Remus…” Janus walks over to him.

“What are you even doing, anyway?”

“I wanna help!”

“... really?”

He nods. “Yep!”

They start to say something, but Remus turns around and leaves again. Looking out the window, they see him taking boxes out of the truck.

“Well… he seems to be managing well enough.” Janus says. “Let’s just keep an eye on him.”

Virgil nods, though he still gazes out the window. After a moment he feels a shiver down his spine.

“You’re still cold, Virge?”

“Uh, not really, I just…”

“Maybe it’s a cold flash or something. Might be about time to take off your jacket.”

He huffs. “Yeah, probably.” He takes his jacket off, dropping it on the floor.

“I told you I’m fine!” Remus says, dropping the boxes. Pain and chills shoot through his body, though he does his best to hide it.

Virgil, however, is perceptive as ever. He sees how Remus flinches as he sets them down and his small shivers.

“You know you don’t have to do this.”

“And I didn’t have to set traps around my house in high school but guess what? I did!”

“I… what?” Janus interjects.

Remus leaves to get more boxes.

“You never saw the traps?” Virgil asks. “How did you never see the traps?”

“I suppose because I wasn’t looking for them.”

“Ah, now that’s your problem. You should always be looking for traps.”

The two laugh, so they don’t hear the soft disembodied chuckle.

Most of the remaining moving time is uneventful, though Remus and Janus bring in the couch with Virgil sitting on it.

“It’s a great pick.”

“Virgil, we have to move that.”

“Oh, alright.”

“Wait!” Remus hops on the balls of his feet. Then he crouches down, gabbing the side of the couch.

“Really, I can get off-” He’s interrupted as the couch jolts up.

“Got it! Janus! Grab the other side!”

“I… alright.” He crouches down at the other side, and after a moment he picks it up. “Huh.”

Remus laughs excitedly as they bring it in.

“Wow, it’s gonna be great to live with such strong guys.” Virgil puts his hands on his face as he feigns a blush.

The three of them call it a day and head to their respective rooms.

At some point in the night Virgil wakes up to the sound of shuffling in the hallway.

“What the hell…” He tries to go back to bed, but the noises outside keep him awake. “Oh come on…” He gets up and trudges to the door. “Remus, if this is you setting up traps, I’m gonna kill you.”

He opens the door to find… nothing. No one’s out there. For a moment, he thinks he can hear someone softly say “Sorry.”

“Well… that seems like a tomorrow problem.”

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #ts sanders sides #sanders side fic #deceit sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #<- how come no tags come up for him?

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kibleedibleedoo · 3 years

Text

Hero of your own fate

Chapter 10

A.N. - I got really into the lore while writing this chapter so I thought it would be interesting to talk about it with the dwarves. Plus how else am I supposed to tell Fili and Kili about guns

Word count - 2,223

Pairings - Thorin x Fem!Reader

Warnings - war, death, mental illness, self doubt

--------------------------------------------------------

-Your POV-

It was a few hours before you decided to return to the company. Thorin made good on his word everyone was dressed in their proper attire and the troublesome two were on their best behaviour. He gave a gentle nod in your direction causing a fresh wave of red to flush your face. Kili looked like he was going to say something but was rather aggressively elbowed by Dwalin before a single syllable left his lips.

“Did ye find anything good to read in the library lass?” Dwalin asked as you took your place on your bedroll. He was looking for a way to keep conversation away from what happened earlier.

“Not really most of it was in Sindarin which isn't really helpful when you’ve only heard a few words spoken.” You shrugged.

“Typical elves.” Fili grumbled causing the rest of the dwarves to mumble in agreement. Bifur took this moment to pass you a plate of something.

“Ablâg” he gestured moving his hand to his mouth. The plate was full of a collection of meats and cheeses and some bread. The food had gone quite cold but you didn’t mind. Apparently, the elves had delivered food to the company instead of summoning you all to dine together while you were away.

“Thank you, Bifur.” You smiled at the friendly dwarf. “Lord Elrond was kind enough to teach me some of his history when he found me staring at one of the murals. It just seems so amazing that you have confirmation of your creators and nobody thought to tell me Gandalf is a lesser-god.” At this the company looked at you confused. Every single one of them. It felt like their eyes were staring into your soul. “Did you lot not know he was a Miar?” It took a few moments before anyone responded.

“Aye. That we knew” Gloin finally chimed in. “What do you mean confirmation of our creators?”

“Lord Elrond said that Eru created elves and men, one awakening with the stars and the other when the sun was created. He also said that Dwarves were created by Aulë and you slumbered deep underground until after the Elves awakened during the age of stars. He also said that these Valar live in the Undying Lands and something about the elves being able to cross the sea to reach Valinor.” Not a single member of the company had looked in another direction since you began speaking. Even Bombur had stopped chewing whatever he was eating at that particular moment. Anxiety hit you like a ton of bricks. You had started so confident but now it felt like you were talking nonsense. “I think that’s what he said.”

“Lass did your parents not teach you this when you were little?” Bofur spluttered out, tack never had been his strong suit. Gandalf took this moment to finally interrupt the conversation with his arrival. He had an uncanny knack for interrupting conversations precisely when they needed him.

“It would have been hard for them to seeing as they wouldn’t know it themselves” Gandalf cut in. “Our y/n is not of our world master dwarf. She comes from a land very different from this one. A world untouched by Eru himself. A world without great evil but full of selfishness and greed.”

“But who made you and your kin?” Fili directed the questioning back to you. There was a hum of agreement from all of the dwarves except Thorin, who once again refused to look in your direction. You glanced at Gandalf for more help but the wizard had already made himself comfy puffing away on his pipe.

“Well, we don’t really know.” Everyone seemed thoroughly dissatisfied by that answer. “We have theories and dozens of religions but mainly people decide based on the information available, what aligns with their moral compass as well as how and where they were raised. It varies from person to person especially in the modern era where science tells us more about our past than ever before and people are less likely to be persecuted for their beliefs.” That answer seemed to satisfy the majority of the company.

A select few wanted to know more. Fili, Kili, Ori, Bofur, Oin, and Bilbo all got up to sit near you to find out more. Ori brought his book and wanted to write everything you said down, it almost seemed like a fantasy story to him. Oin wanted to know everything about the scientific advancements especially in terms of medical treatments. Not that you were very knowledgeable in that subject but you knew some basic first aid which you told him. He was very happy to hear that and quickly recruited you to be an apprentice healer for the company. To you that meant so much, you were no longer useless, you had a purpose on this quest. Maybe Thorin wouldn’t consider you a burden anymore. The others mainly enjoyed hearing stories from another world especially the technology.

-Thorin’s POV-

The moment Gandalf had said “untouched by Eru” Thorin’s heart dropped. If your existence was not influenced by one of the creators then there is no way Mahal could have made you Thorin’s one. It would be impossible. Yet Thorin couldn’t deny the way he felt about you. It was nothing like he had ever experienced before. I was like there was a physical tie attaching the two of you. He dreamt of your beauty. He wanted to be close by at all times, to share in your happiness. He wanted to protect you, to keep you safe and healthy. He wanted you to want him. No, it wasn’t a want it was a need for those things. He felt the same way that Dis had mentioned feeling when she first met Vili. He was so sure that you were his one that he would have bet all of the gold in Erebor on it and yet here he was.

Every mention of your world stung. He hoped the quiet chatter would drown it out, take his mind away from the mysterious girl who had enchanted him. Yet his nephew seemed insistent on learning more about the weaponry from your world and the things you called guns. In different circumstances he would have loved to learn about ways to better protect his people yet now he just couldn’t stomach it.

With everyone occupied Thorin to the opportunity to leave. He waited until he was out of earshot before he began cursing Mahal. To Thorin it seemed he had been cursed with only misery and pain in his life. It had been far too many years since to joy of his youth, with his whole family around him. Before the dragon sickness tormented his grandfather, before Smaug killed his mother and took Erebor, before the battle of Azanulbizar took three generations of his family from him. He had no time to grieve, he had to look after his young sister and lead his people to prosperity. To work hard, to provide, to make a better life. Now that his end goal seemed within reach it seemed Mahal had taken it upon himself to land another blow by making his one a woman who can’t possibly have him as her one. To him it seemed unnecessarily cruel.

Thorin was unsure how long he had been aimlessly wandering lost in his thoughts. It was now late into the evening with the stars high in the sky. From a small flicker of light, a woody smell, and the sound of cheer he could tell the company had decided to have a late supper though where they got the food he did not know. One of them must have found the location of the kitchen. Likely the hobbit, even Thorin had to admit Bilbo could find food even in a mine, he could give Bombur a run for his money.

He settled on a balcony overlooking Rivendell just around the corner from the rather jovial group. Thorin wasn’t sure if he could face you just yet, the fact that you were nervous around him seemed to be a blessing in disguise. It wasn’t long before his peace and quiet was disturbed, Bilbo had stumbled upon his place of solitude. Though it seemed the hobbit hadn't realised that just yet.

“The throne of Erebor is Thorin’s birth right. What is it you fear?” Thorin knew the elf doubted them the moment he learned of the quest. Gandalf should know it would be no use reasoning with an elf. They sought to stop the dwarves becoming great hubs of power at every opportunity they could. Erebor was the mightiest kingdom of them all and it would be again if the quest was successful. Thorin took a step forward focussing on the conversation, causing Bilbo to become aware of his presence.

“Have you forgotten? A strain of madness runs deep in that family. His grandfather lost his mind. His father succumbed to the same sickness. Can you swear Thorin Oakenshield will not also fall?” It seemed that Mahal hadn’t wounded Thorin enough that night. Thorin shared those doubts though he would never tell a soul, yet to hear another voice those concerns cut deeper than any physical wound. After all he had done, after everything he achieved for his people his reputation revolved around his grandfather's illness.

“Oi people can hear you!” Came a shout from the balcony below. “If you’re going to talk about people at least go where they can’t hear you.”

-Your POV-

You had been looking for Bilbo to offer him another plate before Bombur took it. You found him quickly and noticed Thorin was with him. Both looking out over the city of waterfalls. It wasn’t until you followed their gaze did you notice Lord Elrond and Gandalf talking below. The moment you heard the wizard mention Thorin the noise of the company seemed to fall away, you were shocked to hear of Elrond’s doubts. Especially since they were being expressed out in the open. Your opinion on the pair immediately flipped and in that moment you felt you understood why the dwarves hated elves so much.

Your mouth worked faster than your brain. Before you knew it you had shouted at your host but in your anger you felt no shame. The pair hurried off together into a room out of sight. When your attention returned to Bilbo and Thorin you saw only a shocked hobbit and a heartbroken dwarf at the top of the stairs.

“They had no right to say those things about you Thorin” This was the first moment you had seen a hint of weakness in the dwarf king. They had clearly struck a nerve.

“They had every right.” There was no anger in his voice only sadness. You felt his pain and it cut deep. You wanted to hold him to let him voice his troubles. To help lighten the weight of all that he carries yet you held back. Why would a king trust you, you knew he doubted you and your motives but you could not bring yourself to leave him like this. Slowly you made your way up to the balcony and took your place besides Bilbo leaning against the railings.

“I see there’s a stigma around mental illness here too. I wish people would realise that its nothing to be ashamed of.” You sighed likely realising what you were saying was falling on deaf ears. “I don’t know what happened to your grandfather or father but you can't fear what hasn’t happened yet. If you do then the anxiety spirals out of control until you can no longer get out of bed.” You didn’t dare look at either of them. What had started with you trying to be reassuring had begun turning into a type of therapy for you. “It ran in my family too and I know how much it sucks knowing that all the sadness and worry is coded into your genes but its better knowing and being prepared. I can guarantee every single one of those dwarves down there will help and support you if or when you need them”

You finally decided to turn to Thorin and look him straight in the eyes. It was a bold move and you knew it but you needed to covey how important this was to you. His gaze lacked his usual intensiveness but he did not look away. “You cannot let fear hold you back.” He seemed to be grateful for those words. He gave you a small nod and sighed.

“Then we must leave before they can stop us!” It was only then you were able to look away. The strong self-assured dwarf king was back. “Bilbo take a few dwarves and head to the kitchens. Take foods that will last us on the road. I do not know when we will get an opportunity like this again. Be quick but stay out of view. Y/n start gathering your things. It might be worth changing back into your travelling clothes.” He motioned to the elven dress you were still wearing. Your clothes should be dry enough now that changing wouldn’t be an issue. “We must make haste if we are to be gone by the time the sun rises.”

-----------------------------------

Ablâg - food

#king thorin #thorin #Thorin Oakenshield #thorin fic #thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield imagine #slight angst #readerxthorin #fem!reader #thorin x y/n #thorin x you #slow burn #hobbit #the hobbit #king under the mountain #Kilby writes

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allthingshetalia · 4 years

Note

Dear Divine, May I request something of interesting taste? You can decline my dear divine. Werewolf Germany x Reader. Do whatever you wish my divine. For I am a humble simp that has to much time on my hand. Sincerely, A.Burr.

Dear requester,

I intend to fufill your request wholeheartedly and with the fever of 10 thousand men.

Sincerely your obedient servant,

A.Ham.

****************************

This is going to be like an imprint/mate sort of scenario.

The woods always provided you comfort. The air was fresher and gave you a chance to clear your head from city ick. You would live out here if it was possible.

The soft crunch of crisp leaves beneath your feet gave you copious amounts of serotonin. Birds would chirp loudly overhead, having their own little conversations. The only thing that happened to dampen your mood was a small rock somewhere in your boot. You even enjoyed the weight of your backpack on your shoulder as it signified an adventure.

You had only seen 2 people on the trail so far. It looked like a couple who had come out here to make out in the forest. You cringed childishly at the thought. You supposed it was better than someone making out in a restaurant.

You suddenly came to a fork in the path. The left path looked clear and didn’t have any twigs on the trail. All the trees were full and bushy and the sun filtered through the trees.

The right path was almost the complete opposite. You almost brought out your phone to take a picture. Twigs and leaves covered most of the path. The trees were still full but lacked a vibrant green color. It was almost completely cloudy.

The curious part of you made you turn towards the right path. While the logical, slightly scaredy-cat version of you ached to turn around and go down the left path. Taking a deep breath you stepped towards the right path and as soon as you did the wind slammed against you and the dark trees. You tensed and planted your feet hard against the soil so you didn’t tumble over. You looked behind you to see if anyone else witnessed it.

No one was there. Deciding to not let it deter you from your self made adventure you took a few more cautious steps. When nothing happened you took a few more, then a few more. You were at your normal walking speed, as you looked around the glim forest. The farther you went the more fog you encountered. A deer crossed your path, scaring the living hell out of you.

You blushed deeply as your scream echoed through the forest. “Relax.” You scolded to yourself. The fog started to get heavier and heavier and if you were in your right mind you would turned around, but you felt like you had something to prove. How cool would it be to tell your grand kids about the time you almost died in the forest?

You may have cursed yourself when you thought of death because a loud howl sounded off in the distance. You didn’t know there were wolves here. Well if there was prey there must be predator. “I should probably turn around.” You muttered to yourself. You stopped in your tracks and took a deep breath enjoying the musty air. Turning around your heart fell into your stomach. Sweat immediately covered your body, and your hands reached around to your backpack hoping for some form of weapon.

5 wolves descended out of the fog. The more you looked around you realized the fog seemed to clear around you, making it easy for them to spot you. Their determined brown eyes bore into your body. You tried to remember everything you had heard or seen about wolves. You knew that if you needed to scare a bear away being really loud and overwhelming their senses may help with that. You quickly screamed as loud as you could and kicked some leaves and soil at the large canines. As you flung your leg back and forth you kicked a large heavy stick hitting one of the wolves directly in the snout.

You had to stop the instant reflex to apologize. The wolves shrinked back at the loud noises and assaults. Your throat ached and you were surprised you were able to hold sound for that long. “Get back!” You shrieked. You took a few steps back wondering if it was a good idea to run. You bet they would just chase you and you knew you wouldn’t be able to outrun them. They were made to hunt.

One of the wolves in the middle who was bigger than the rest of them took a few warning steps forward. You moved forward as well as kicking more leaves and dirt into his face. The large wolf sneezed and shook out his head to get rid of the dirt. The wolf glared at you with a new determination which made you gulp.

You opened your mouth to scream again. The harsh sound scraped your throat as it exited your mouth filling the forest. A deep, powerful growl overlapped with your scream making you cut yourself off. You looked down at the wolves and watched as they stared at you with scared eyes and quickly scurried away. You would have laughed if it wasn’t for the fact that you felt eyes watching you.

You quickly spun around and your knees completely gave out. Another wolf. Except this one was different. If you stood up it’s back would almost reach the top of your head. It’s hair was a light tan color- almost blonde except for a large black spot on its chest. It had a few light scars around its legs and a deeper one on its chest.

What caught your attention the most was it’s eyes. Those eyes were nothing like the previous wolves you saw. They were a light blue and the stared at you with such deep emotion you wondered for a moment if this was actually an animal. It felt like it was staring through your sole. The animals brow was furrowed and as time went on its eyes became softer and softer, and even held in some tears that threatened to fall. The animal kept eye contact with you and you couldn’t break it even if you wanted to. You didn’t know what was going on in the animals mind but you weren’t scared.

You watched it with careful eyes as it took a few small steps towards you. It got low to the ground, causing it stomach to scrap against the forest floor. It would shuffle towards you and then stop. You realized it was trying not to scare you.

“I’m not afraid of you.” You gasped, more to yourself than the wolf. The wolf’s ears piped up and it quickly closed the gap between the two of you. It laid down directly in front of you, it’s face so close you could feel it’s gentle breaths. Even when you were sitting down the wolf was an inch or two taller than you as it laid there. “This is the weirdest day of my life.” You mumbled. The wolf jolted softly and it seemed like a wolf version of a chuckle. The wolf’s front legs were resting on either side of you, encasing you closer to its body.

“Can I pet you?” You asked. Your fingers itched to rake themselves through the thick fur. You should have been more surprised when the wolf seemed to understand you. It gently raised its head to the sky giving you full access to its neck and chest. Your hand immediately darted out and sunk into the heavenly fur. An immediate purr/groan left the wolf as it pressed itself closer against you.

A soothing shock wave fell over you making a small gasp leave your throat. Warmth flooded your body, causing your hands to leave its fur. The warmth immediately left your body. You pressed your hands against the wolf again and felt the warmth instantly flood your body. You continued this action a few time, causing the wolf to huff softly in annoyance. “Sorry.” You apologized. The wolf lowered its head and nuzzled the side of its head against you. Its head was so big it took up most of your upper half. Your body seems to melt and you rested your body against the side of its head. Your fingers scratched right behind its ear, giggling when the wolf’s back leg kicked at its stomach.

“Why aren’t I scared? And why haven’t you eaten me?” You pondered. Your fingers danced in his fur and he cut off his purrs. Its icy eye opened and it backed away from you so it could look you in the eye. You looked at the wolf curiously. The wolf leaned forward and pressed its forehead against yours. You would have questioned it but you were too deep into a blissful warmth.

‘Because this was meant to happen.’ You yelped and scrambled away from the wolf. Your eyes darted around the forest looking for the owner of that honey voice. The wolf whimpered and took a step forward but you held your hand out causing him to stop.

“Who said that?!” You stood up for the first time in about an hour and backed away from the wolf. “This has to be a dream.” The wolf shook its head, looking at you with worry. Your legs worked on their own and you stumbled backwards and the wolf walked forward ready to catch you incase you fell. Panic rose in your throat and your eyes the trees suspiciously. The oddity of the whole situation finally started to catch up to you.

A huge wolf. A euphoric warmth every time you touched. This was a wild animal. Those small wolves from before could tear you to shreds, but this wolf could eat you alive. You felt light headed, and your knees buckled from the invisible weight on your shoulders. You gripped your backpack straps and suddenly took of in a sprint.

The wolf grunted from behind you and you could barley make it anywhere when it bit your backpack causing you to fall to the ground. You flailed desperately underneath the large beast. You somehow ended on your back, the backpack making the ground even more uncomfortable. The wolf leaned forward and you knew for sure you were a goner.

Instead of taking off Your head the wolf pressed its forehead against yours once again.

‘Please calm down.’ A deep voice entered your mind. It sounded like a thought. Like when you talk to yourself in your mind. Except it wasn’t you and you can’t control what the voice says. ‘You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep freaking out.’

“Is that you?” You asked aloud, opening your eyes to look at the wolf. You quickly rolled your eyes. Wolves can’t talk.

‘We can.’ You jumped.

“Can you read my thought?” You asked. Your hands gripped at the leaves and soil under you like you could dig yourself a hole to hide in.

‘Yes and you don’t have to talk out loud.’ The wolf hummed. It’s voice had the same effect as its touch. Warm and calming.

‘How are you doing that?’ You didn’t open your mouth this time to ask that.

‘I’m going to say this and I don’t want you to freak out.’ You nodded your head in a silent agreement that you wouldn’t freak out.

‘What do you know about werewolves?” The deep voice questioned.

‘Is this a trick?’ You thought.

‘No, now answer the questioned.’ The wolf demanded. You gasped when he reminded you he could read you thoughts.

‘I watched twilight and read a few fan fictions.’ You responded. The voice chuckled and it almost lulled you to sleep. The soft vibrations of it seemed to surround your brain.

‘Well remember that baby Jacob imprints on?’ The wolfs question snapped you awake. You nodded your head to relaxed to really answer. ‘Well that’s what happened to me. I heard you screaming in while I was on a hunt and felt something inside me. I needed to help you. Then when we made eye contact, I knew it was you.’ His voice was soft and caring. He was trying not to freak you out. ‘You’re my mate or soulmate, whatever you want to call it.’ He continued. The wolf disconnected his forehead from yours so he could watch your face.

His presence left your head making your head ache slightly. It felt very empty and your body felt cold again. You leaned forward and pressed your forehead against his again, sighing in bliss when you were warm again. You couldn’t see it but that little action made him very happy and his tail wagged to prove it.

‘But that’s impossible werewolves don’t exist.’ You assured him. He huffed causing a small giggle to escape you.

‘Then how do you explain everything that has happened? I can read your thoughts and your going to tell me werewolves aren’t real. Whatever ideas you have of what exists and doesn’t let go of them. They don’t apply.’ He reasoned. He nuzzled his head against yours waiting for a response.

Your mind was lagging severely. Between being on clouds nine and having to process all this information you could barely keep up. You tried to start a sentence multiple times but just couldn’t. The wolf above you sense what was going on.

‘You aren’t use to this feeling. Let yourself sleep. I’ll take care of you.’ The wolf didn’t move even after he finished his sentence. Knowing that if he moved you would wake up and feel cold and alone. Having you sedated was easier than having to chase you down. Even if it was easy to catch you. ‘I’ve got you mein kleiner wolf.’

💕I went overboard with this but do not regret it💕

#allthingshetalia #hetalia #hetalia blog #hetalia imagine blog #x reader #hetalia imagines #hws hetalia #aph hetalia #germany x reader #aphgermany #hws germany #germany au #werewolf x reader #werewolf germany x reader #germany imagines #germany headcons #germany headcannons #ludwig beilschmidt

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years

Text

Birds Still Sing When They Fall From The Sky

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7/ part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 / part 18 / part 19 / part 20 / part 21 / part 22 belongs to this

content warnings: injury, thinking one is about to die (Geralt gets badly injured, but he doesn’t die), a sick child (not explicit and only briefly), injured animal (Roach gets a bit injured but nothing explicit and nothign really bad)

(still not the final chapter)

Geralt stumbled out of the muddy water, the kikimora’s carcass lying forgotten behind him.

It would be of no use to get proof of his hunt now. The gash where one of the beast’s talons had pierced Geralt’s chest was too long, too deep. Geralt would be lucky if he even made it back into town.

His lips twisted into a bitter smile. As if luck would ever be on his side.

His knees buckled, the muddy ground gave way beneath him; suddenly he was rushing towards it, hitting the ground with a painful grunt as all air was pushed out of his lungs.

It burned, tore at him from the inside.

Geralt closed his eyes, listening to his own breath, his own heart that wouldn’t be beating for much longer.

He had always known it would end like this, with him bleeding out somewhere in a forest where no one would find him and with no one to mourn or even notice his death. He had made his peace with that months after becoming a witcher.

A sharp sting in his eyes made him blink rapidly. No. He couldn’t shed any tears over this. He couldn’t cry only because now this fate that was always meant to be his would come true, because now there was no one there who would wait for his return, who would be worried about him if he didn’t show up in town come the morning.

There was nothing to be done, nothing to grieve for.

It had been his own damn fault. He had been too reckless, too uncaring of what would happen to him. He got what he has had coming for months now.

This was no time for regrets.

But still … as he lay there with rattling breath and sharp pain seizing him at the smallest movement, he thought of Jaskier, as he always knew he would in his last moments. He thought of the letters Jaskier had written for him and that Geralt had been too much of a coward to read.

Icy fear closed its claws around him, caging him in. He was alone and cold and afraid and he was going to bleed out without knowing what Jaskier had wanted to tell him.

He wanted to – he needed to read a letter. Just one. He couldn’t go alone. He needed Jaskier’s words with him as he left, just as he had needed them when Jaskier had been the one to leave.

With the strength of desperation, Geralt crawled over to where he had dropped off his bags. His fingers dug into the dirt and his wound shot blazing fire through his chest as the movements tore at its edges.

None of that mattered, when finally, finally, Geralt reached the bag, clawing at the letters, desperate to find the one he needed, the one that would be a fitting farewell for him.

‘Read when you are injured’

His mouth twisted into a mirthless laugh. Jaskier had known he wouldn’t be good enough to survive on his own.

He blinked the dark splotches that crept up on the edges of his vision away, focussing all his strength into reading what would be Jaskier’s last words to him.

‘My dearest, Geralt,

I think by now I know you well enough to guess correctly how you feel right now. But I suppose if you are reading this that means you can understand better than before how I always felt when you were hurt and on the verge of dying; how I feel now, writing this letter knowing that one day you will need to read it because you got hurt again.

I wish more than anything that I were there to help you through this, but I need you to be strong and do that yourself, alright?

Can you do that for me?

Take your potions, take your time to clean your wounds and for the gods’ sake go to a healer. I don’t care if you think you can or should deal with the pain. I care about you and I need you to be alright.

So stop reading and make sure you’re not bleeding out.

And Geralt? I love you. I have never been prouder of anything than knowing and loving you.

With all my heart,

Jaskier’

Geralt’s chest tightened, the emotion welling up inside him almost strong enough to drown out the acid pain from the wound. Jaskier cared about him, needed him to get through his.

Yet Geralt could do nothing but reread the letter again and again until his vision became blurred, from bloodloss or unshed tears he could not say.

‘I care about you. I need you to be alright.’

The words repeated in Geralt’s mind, like a faint echo growing stronger and stronger until it became the rhythm of a battle cry.

Geralt’s body burned, threatened to crumble once more. He clenched his jaw and with inhuman strength, he lifted himself up.

A call for Roach, seconds that stretched into what felt like hours, while the glimmering determination inside him turned into a raging fire rivalling the one in his chest.

‘you can understand better than before how I always felt when you were hurt and on the verge of dying’

Oh, how he understood. How that ache of knowing was branded into his very being. He had lived with suffocating fear for years and had to watch it come true before his eyes.

He couldn’t let Jaskier’s fear for him come true as well. He couldn’t do that to him.

With the last effort before he collapsed, Geralt managed to heave himself onto Roach, trusting her to carry him where he could make sure he could do what Jaskier needed of him.

When Geralt came to, the agony in his chest had softened into a dull and throbbing ache. A light breeze brushed over him, making his hairs stand on end.

With a groan he tried to sit up, wincing when renewed pain shot through him.

“I wouldn’t do that,” a small voice piped up to his left.

Geralt turned to the side with a scowl, but froze when he met the wide eyes of a child lying in a bed next to his. His skin was sickly white and the skin around his eyes red.

Geralt stared at the little boy mutely, unable to even begin to form words.

The child didn’t seem to mind.

“You should be really nice to the healer when she comes back,” the boy said and gave him a toothy grin. “She was a bit angry at you because you kept trying to push her away while she bandaged you.”

Geralt’s frown returned. “I don’t remember that.”

“I do!” The boy had no reason to look as excited as he did. “You are so strong, even when you were half-asleep. You should have seen yourself when she tried to take off your necklace to better check the bandage.”

Without thinking, Geralt’s hand shot up to the necklaces resting on his bare and bandaged chest. The cool metal of his medallion was still there, but Geralt only felt himself relax once he felt the barely-there weight of the seashell necklace that had previously burned against his chest but that now was a pleasant reassurance.

The boy cocked his head to the side curiously. “Why is it so important?” His eyes lit up. “Is it magic?”

Geralt’s lips quirked up and he leaned back against the pillows of his own sick bed with closed eyes.

“It’s a good luck charm. Keeps me safe when I fight monsters.”

The child seemed to be brimming in excitement and Geralt could hear the sound of his fidgeting.

“Where can I get one of those?” the boy said in a tone as if he had been bursting to ask the question.

Geralt opened his eyes again, only a smidge, and let his eyes once more wander across the pale skin of the child and the way his hair stuck to his forehead as if glued there by fever-sweat.

Geralt hesitated. His hand tightened its grip on the necklace. The precious gift Jaskier had given him. Something to keep him safe.

With a harsh movement, so that he didn’t have time to change his mind, Geralt pulled the necklace over his head and tossed it over to the boy who scrambled to the edge of his bed to catch it.

Geralt’s breath hitched when he saw his necklace in another’s hands, but he forced himself to soften his expression.

“Thank you!” The boy sounded as if Geralt had saved his life. It twisted his gut, but the smile he sent back was sincere. “But what about you? Don’t you need the luck when you fight monsters?”

“I don’t need luck.” The rest of the tightness clinging to him loosened its grip, falling away piece by piece, with every one of Jaskier’s words telling him that he needed him to be alright, feared for him, loved him came back to him. “I have something better.”

His hands were balled into fists so tight that his nails would draw blood any minute.

Everything inside Geralt screamed at him to go, turn back and leave. Standing in front of the tavern door, steeling himself to go in was more terrifying than the monster he had faced not even an hour ago.

He had done what he came here for. He had his coin and food for Roach. He should leave, as he would have done if it wasn’t for the letter in his hand being crumpled by how tightly he gripped it.

‘Read when you hear another bard play one of my songs’

It wasn’t the only letter. The gods knew, there were so many more in Geralt’s bag, he could easily shove this one to the bottom of them and never read it, never subject himself to the white pain that threatened to pry him apart with every note of the lute that he heard even through the closed door.

He forced himself to think of the other letters he had read. Not a single one of them he regretted reading, even if it had stung to follow the instructions Jaskier had left him on how to make flowercrowns as he had watched Jaskier do so many times or how to take care of himself the way Jaskier would have done.

Reading the letters was hard, but so was his life and perhaps those letters were the only thing that would take away some of that crushing emptiness if only he managed to gather enough strength to read them all.

His heart beat painfully against his ribcage and he ground his teeth as he pushed the door open.

Immediately, the noises and smells of the tavern threatened to overwhelm him, but Geralt set his jaw and pushed through.

As much as he wanted to shut out the noise, he couldn’t stop listening to the bard. The music was so achingly familiar.

Geralt had been prepared for it to hurt, for it to be unbearable.

What he felt now was so much worse.

Though the bard was far less skilled than Jaskier had been, he sang his songs with the same bright-eyed hunger for adventure.

And Geralt – Geralt found his heart slowing down, calming at the familiarity and joy in the words and melodies Jaskier had written.

Geralt should hate this, but he couldn’t.

The need to flee still sat deep in his bones, but he forced himself to listen, note all the imperfections and all the thrills of excitement in the bard’s voice.

With hands that should be shaking but were eerily calm, Geralt opened the letter.

Taken aback, he frowned, when he saw how short it was. He didn’t know what he had expected.

Maybe a grand analysis of what Jaskier’s lyrics meant or maybe a fond recounting of what he had felt while he had gone on the adventures that had inspired him to write.

What he found instead was so wonderfully unsophisticated in its bluntness that Geralt couldn’t keep the snort in.

The paper only had a single sentence on it: ‘I am better.’

A grin spread across Geralt’s face. It wasn’t particularly big and some might have confused it for a grimace, but to Geralt it felt so unexpectedly sincere that he was sure his cheeks might begin to hurt from it.

He leaned back and watched as the bard brought the song to a close.

He stayed to listen even after he had moved on from Jaskier’s songs.

It took Geralt a while to enter another tavern. His dread still spiked up at the sound of a lute and sometimes he would succumb to it and leave. But more and more often, he stayed to listen to the bards he came across - On some rare occasions he even sought them out, when his own meagre playing wasn’t enough for him anymore.

His resolve to listen to the music didn’t make it any easier, at least at first. He still gripped the edges of the tables he sat at tightly and he tensed up at every first note that reached him, but slowly, he started to come to truly enjoy the music.

More so, when they were Jaskier’s songs. Seeing bards’ eyes light up with a spark put there by Jaskier’s creations and see an audience cheer for the poet that had touched them with his words settled something warm and comfortable within him.

But the best part was, whenever someone recognised Geralt. What would have been terrifying and reason enough to leave a town and never return started to feel like a comfort.

Of course, people would know he was a witcher, it was hard to miss. He couldn’t expect anyone to know him as someone who had been loved by Jaskier.

And yet there were few times that people called him a witcher without adding that he belonged to the bard. Somehow, though years had passed since they had been seen travelling with each other, they still belonged together, and Geralt was witness to the fact that the world knew it, celebrated it even.

He might be a witcher again, be alone again, but Jaskier’s legacy made sure that he would always be known as Jaskier’s.

Geralt stared at the notebook in his hands. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed in which he held a quill in a death grip as if it could force the words that wouldn’t come to Geralt onto the page.

That damned blank page that was just waiting for Geralt to mess up.

His jaw clenched. He couldn’t risk it. The notebook was Jaskier’s. His unfinished work.

Anything written in it should be perfect, filled with wit and elegant letters, so unlike anything that Geralt would ever be able to put to paper.

While he had been travelling with Sera, he had told himself he couldn’t fill in the notebook as he had promised himself at Jaskier’s grave he would do.

She wouldn’t have laughed at him, of this Geralt was certain, but she still was a bard, a word-smith, a silver-tongue. And she wasn’t Jaskier. As much as she wouldn’t openly judge him, she couldn’t understand him the way Jaskier had.

So he had closed the book, time and time again, always telling himself he would start writing once he was alone again.

He had been for almost a month now, and still not a single drop of ink had been put on the page.

It was easy to write. So easy. As easy as life.

He couldn’t do it.

He had to.

He had promised, himself and Jaskier. He had promised he would tell him about his hunts, he had promised he would see pretty things, even if most days the Path seemed grey and barren of anything that could elicit a smile from Geralt.

With a forcefully steady hand and a heart that sat in his throat, Geralt wrote down a single sentence.

It was nothing special, no rhetoric masterpiece. Just simple words describing how Roach ate a dandelion today.

The quill hovered over the page, the tip almost touching it, almost writing about how it had made Geralt smile.

He put the quill aside before he could write anything like that. His one sentence was good the way it was; it didn’t need Geralt’s smile. Jaskier would have liked the sentence.

And yet. The longer Geralt stared at the words, the more did the wrongness of them gnaw at Geralt’s gut. He shouldn’t have written them. He should have waited until he saw something truly worthwhile to note down.

Instead he had wasted precious space by writing about a stupid, silly thing that no one but him would think important enough to even look at.

His hands balled into fists and he had to restrain himself from crossing out the words or tearing out the page.

But he couldn’t stop himself from forcefully snapping the book shut and stuffing it into his back. Tomorrow he would find something better to write about. Something that wouldn’t have made Jaskier be ashamed of him.

Tomorrow came and went and all that was left in the notebook by Geralt was the one damned sentence that didn’t need an ugly twin.

The colours spread over the sky as if an artist had spilled their paints.

It was stunning, but Geralt barely looked at it, his mind too preoccupied with the letter in his hands.

‘Read when you see a breath-taking sunset’

There was no doubt that now was the perfect moment, but despite the many letters Geralt had read already – Jaskier had seemingly prepared for any situation in which Geralt might need his input – breaking it open never became any easier, though something had changed in Geralt. His heart was no longer racing solely out of fear and desperation, instead anticipation made his breath catch in his throat and his chest tingle.

Slowly but steadily the sun crept closer to the horizon, every moment shortening Geralt’s chance to read the letter.

A thrill shot through him as he finally opened it, his eyes roaming hungrily over the words in much the same way that Jaskier might have looked at the sunset.

The letter was shorter than many others, but Geralt felt no stinging disappointment. The words written before him in hurried and shaky letters looked almost the same way Jaskier’s voice had sounded like whenever he needled Geralt for details about his hunts.

‘My dearest, Geralt,

What are you doing reading this letter? Look at the sky! Knowing you, the sunset will be almost over by now. What does it look like? You’ll have to tell me all about it. Is there a lake where the last rays of sunlight are bleeding into the water like it does here? Or are there mountains swallowing the sun?

I would love to be there with you and hold your hand while we watch it. You are always radiant in the golden light of the sinking sun. Have I ever told you your hair takes on nearly the same colour as your eyes when the sun hits it just right? Well, it does. And it’s a sight I look forward to seeing many more times. And don’t you groan about that, you and I both know I will make you enjoy watching sunsets with me. And I’ve I like watching you…well, it’s not my fault if I like looking at beautiful things. And you, dearest, are the most beautiful of all to me.

I wish I was there to see you now, reading this letter still despite me telling you to look at the sun, you rascal!

I love you,

Jaskier’

Geralt looked back up, the tiniest smile on his lips and a sweet crack in his heart.

“I wish you were here too,” he whispered, but despite the feeling swelling in his chest, his voice didn’t break.

He sat back and watched the sunset, doing his best to notice every single facet of it.

He stayed like this until the light was well and truly gone. Only then, did he took out the notebook whose presence had been burning in Geralt’s mind ever since he had written down the first and only note of something that had made him smile.

As before, Geralt hesitated. He couldn’t mess this up. He didn’t have the right words while Jaskier would have been able to write verses about the sunset.

Something in Geralt’s chest grew warm and fuzzy. He could almost hear the way Jaskier’s voice had been so full of joy and softness as he had described his last sunset to Geralt. He too had looked too beautiful to put in words in the golden light.

The tip of the quill touched the paper and as if a dam had broken, words spilled forth. They were still clumsy and looked more like a list than a poetic description; some words and phrases were borrowed from Jaskier, but it felt right somehow.

A letter back to Jaskier.

The warmth in his chest felt like a hug.

He should set up camp for the night. He had answered Jaskier’s questions and he had found something worth remembering. He should be done for the day.

Still, he didn’t move, as he watched the stars twinkle into existence one after the other. He could rest just a little longer, describe just a little more beauty and allow himself to smile at it.

Sleep still didn’t come often and if it did, Geralt tossed and turned, plagued by images he would rather forget, unless exhaustion took him into its sweet embrace and granted him black nothingness.

But no matter whether he slept or not, whether he had nightmares or was blessed with darkness, he made a point of spending the night in a real bed as often as the coin allowed it.

It wasn’t good by any means. No matter how comfortable the matrass and how warm the blanket, there was still an empty space next to him, there was no head resting heavily on his chest and no breath on his neck to tickle him as he drifted off to sleep.

So no, it wasn’t good. But it was better. Only a little bit, but better nonetheless.

If he gave it more time, it might even become good enough to deserve a mention in the notebook.

The cut on his chest from the leshy lying dead at his feet stung and Geralt’s breath rattled in his chest, each inhale painful like swallowing shards of glass.

He knew he had been sloppy. He knew he should have been better. Months on the Path had erased all pretence of having an excuse for being unable to fight like before and yet his injuries hadn’t gotten any less.

The one thing that had changed though was that now, he managed to drag himself over to his bag and take out the letter – the first one he had read - no matter how serious his injury.

By now the letter was crumpled, its edges torn and some words covered by the odd blood splatter.

It didn’t matter. Geralt had read it often enough to know its words by heart.

He hissed as his broken fingers traced over the words until his heart settled into a steadier rhythm and Geralt found the strength to push himself up and try to find a healer.

The words Jaskier had written for him had saved his life over and over, not always solely from physical injury.

It was hard. Not a day went by without him missing Jaskier.

It was hard and lonely and it didn’t seem to end. But such was a witcher’s life. And yet, Geralt had what no witcher was meant to have: a beloved who made sure to save him even now, to tell him to stay safe and that it mattered that he was alive and well. A lighthouse looking out for him, even if it was too far away to see.

Sometimes Geralt wondered if it was harder this way, if perhaps he wouldn’t have noticed how cold his bed was or how quiet the road if he had never met Jaskier.

Maybe. Probably.

But there were other things he started to notice too. Things he would never have noticed if it weren’t for Jaskier.

It became a habit to linger when Geralt saw a patch of wildflowers and think about how well they would look in their little garden, to rise early not to be off on the road as soon as possible, but to catch sight of the colours the dawn painted across the sky, to look at the clouds more often, not solely to judge the weather, but to trace fantastical shapes in the clouds with his eyes.

The once empty half of the notebook was quickly filled with all sorts of pretty things Jaskier would have liked to hear about. Not a day went past without Geralt finding at least one thing to note down.

Some days his notes were pitiful and Geralt almost snapped the book shut in frustration.

‘I woke up before the nightmares got too bad’, ‘It stopped raining’, ‘I bought some bread’.

Stuff barely worth being called good things and so mundane he considered not writing them down at all.

He still did.

Other days, it was hard to choose what to write down for the opposite reason: because there had been more than one good thing happening to him. Eventually Geralt gave up on choosing just one thing good enough to tell Jaskier about and noted every little thing that made him smile.

What started out as a chore became a habit he didn’t mind.

Eventually, the last page of the book was filled with no space left to write down even one more thing, no matter how much he squeezed the letters together.

A sinking feeling lodged itself in Geralt’s chest as he stared at the notebook in his hand that had forced him to see little specks of colour on the dull and grey road.

He had fulfilled the promise he made to himself. There was no need to force himself to notice wildflowers or stick around to watch his contractors’ faces morph into gratefulness when he told them he had gotten rid of monsters.

He had done what he had set out to do, now he could go back to the bleak Path he had walked for decades before meeting Jaskier. He could go back to the life of blood and pain. There was no need for stupidly romantic notions like a whispering wind or a life of adventure.

With a heavy sigh Geralt closed the book and put it in his bag for the last time, ready to face the Path as it had always been meant to be seen.

And yet, the sun had not even begun to set, when Geralt found himself listening to a choir of birds, a tiny smile on his face.

The little warmth Geralt felt as he rode on didn’t fade, though the song of the forest in his ears was nowhere close to the joyful way Jaskier would have experienced it. No one could see the world how he had done. Still, Jaskier had done everything in his power to teach him and whether Geralt wanted to or not, he had learned.

Out of all the letters, one stood out. While every other letter was addressed to Geralt, this one had a different recipient.

Whenever Geralt looked through the envelopes and stumbled across this one, he would smirk and put it back at the very bottom of the stack of unread letters.

Withholding the letter from Roach felt almost like the playful back and forth whenever Geralt told Jaskier not to coddle her, as if he hadn’t loved every moment of watching Jaskier try to befriend his horses. Not reading the letter addressed to her was the closest he could get to grumbling when Jaskier had tried to sneak his old horses some treats behind Geralt’s back.

Now though, with Roach lying on her side and neighing in distress, Geralt thought of the letter, of how Jaskier would have surly moved the world to comfort the injured horse.

The gash on her flank from where a drowner had caught her wasn’t deep, but it must have been the first time the young horse had gotten injured badly enough to bleed.

Geralt didn’t work as quietly as he normally would as he looked after the injury, mumbling soothing reassurances and stroking her sweat-soaked neck.

She would be fine. All she needed was some rest and reassurance that she wasn’t alone, that Geralt was here to take care of her.

Despite the gruffness of his voice, it seemed to help Roach calm down. Her ears twitched in irritation when his voice eventually died down, running out of words and ways to comfort.

Without really meaning to, his eyes drifted to his bag.

The next words that left his mouth to calm his companion weren’t his own. They were written by a bard so full of love for the world that he needed to even describe it to a horse he would never get to know.

While reading out loud Geralt’s voice broke off more than once, but not caused by sobs or a tight throat any longer. Instead he chuckled as he read how Jaskier formally introduced himself to Roach and told her that he would have loved to meet her.

Geralt snorted and put the letter down briefly to pat Roach once more.

“You hear that, Roach? He really thought there was something he needed to tell you about himself, as if I wouldn’t have told you all about him by now,” he said with a grin. “What do you say, should I even keep reading or is it unnecessary?”

Roach only huffed, but despite his words, Geralt continued to read.

It was a silly letter, filled with nonsense that normally wouldn’t come out of Geralt’s mouth even if someone held a sword at his throat. His eyes narrowed as the creeping suspicion entered his mind that while writing Jaskier had cackled thinking about Geralt reading those sickeningly sweet words to Roach. That wonderful bastard.

The grin didn’t leave Geralt’s lips while he read the letter over and over until Roach seemed calm enough to not need his voice any longer.

As he finally put the letter aside side - on top on the stack of read letters for the first time - something made Geralt halt.

A thought, only half-formed but loud enough that it wanted to be heard nonetheless.

He hadn’t needed the letter. Sure, it had helped with Roach and Jaskier’s words never failed to make him smile, but it was more because they were Jaskier’s. The actual meaning of his letters had started to become less and less important. No, not less important, just…redundant.

Geralt had stopped to enjoy the cold water of a river before even remembering that Jaskier had written a letter to remind him to take time off to treat himself to a nice bath. He had stayed in towns and accepted thanks and smiles without even thinking about how surely there was a letter in the stack somewhere telling him to let others be nice to him.

Something came loose in Geralt’s chest and he caressed the worn paper of the letters he had reread time and time again. They were treasured and would continue to be so, because they were from Jaskier, because they were proof that Jaskier wanted to see him happy.

But maybe, just maybe, he didn’t need them to tell him how to get out of the emptiness that had haunted him, for much longer.

#geraskier #witcher #fic #witcher fanfic #my writing #injury #sick child #injured animal #geralt #Birds still sing when they fall from the sky #accidental multichapter #tfw you need a character to write letters but you are horrbile at writing them yourself

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