#I’ve been absolutely dry recently but I just sat down and gave it a try and it actually worked rlly well for me

[hellowhisperingstars]

Bat Boy

Summary: Eddie asks you an important question.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x VampireGF!Reader

Words: 5K

Warnings: vampires, blood, Eddie gets turned, sad reader backstory, not proofread. I think that's it. Please let me know if I messed anything!

A/N: Happy Halloween everyone!! Here is a sequel to Batty from last year! I did some google searching for some words in different languages that might not be accurate. Please let me know if they are wrong and I will fix them!

Tata = Father (Romanian)

Suflețel = My dear/darling (Romanian)

Anya = Mother (Hungarian)

Ma Cherie = My darling (French)

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! <3

Batty - Masterlist

“Hey Batty?” Eddie muttered as he cuddled up to you on the couch in his trailer. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, baby.” You said putting down the book you had been reading. “What's on your mind my love. You look conflicted.”

“I’ve been thinking,” He said as he pulled your legs up over his lap so he could play with the frayed ends of the hole that sat on the knee of your jeans. 

“Uh oh,” You whispered as you watched him. “Got your serious face on.”

Eddie bit his lip, struggling to say what he wanted. He didn’t want to put you on the spot like this but he knew that you would rather he just come out and say it rather than dance around the subject. “Batty, remember when you fed off me and I asked if it would turn me?”

“Yes,” You nodded, your eyes narrowing as you looked at him, was he going to ask what you thought he was going to ask?

“You told me that it would take more than a bite and it would be a different conversation.”

Nodding again you gave a little “mhm” as confirmation. 

“I want to talk about it.” He said swallowing to try and clear his dry throat.

“Okay,” You nodded, sitting up a little. “What did you want to know?”

“How do you change someone?”

“It’s kind of like how they portrayed it in movies.” You shrugged. You had been a vampire for so long that it’s hard to remember a lot of the details of your change other than how it felt. “They drink your blood to the point of death and then they feed you theirs. That’s the traditional way at least. I heard recently that some doctor in Japan was able to do it through a blood transfusion.” 

“Does it hurt?” He asked quietly as he pulled at a string.

No reason to hide the truth from him. Nodding, you took a deep breath, licking your lips before you started. “You're dying, love, your heart stops, you can't breathe. After a few minutes it feels like there’s fire in your veins. It feels like it takes forever for your heart to start again and for your lungs to start working properly. It’s awful, honestly. I wouldn’t let anyone I care about do it unless they are absolutely sure this is what they wanted.“

“How long does the pain last?”

“It’s different for everyone.” You shrugged looking away from him. “A few minutes to a couple hours.”

“How long did your change take?” 

“Hours. I was in pretty bad shape to begin with so it had a lot of things to mend.” Looking out the front window you noticed the sun was starting to set. Getting up you looked down at him and held out your hand. “Walk with me?”

Looking up at you he nodded his head as he grabbed your hand letting you lift him to his feet as you walked towards the door.

The first colors of fall were just starting to sprout on the trees turning the leaves from green to yellow, orange, and red, a crispy breeze greeted you as the door of the trailer opened and together you and Eddie walked down the steps to the gravel walkway heading towards the forest that surrounded the park. 

“You're more curious than normal,” You said as you jumped into a downed log, walking it like a tightrope you looked over at him. “What else are you curious about, my love?”

Eddie plucked a branch from the ground taking his time to rip the dead leaves away as he got up the courage to ask you about something he knew might bother you. “How did you die?” 

That stopped you as you looked at him. “You really want to know?” 

“I want to know more about you..” He said, his eyes squinting against the setting sun.

You bit your lip as you tried to think back to your old life. Giving him a little giggle you “Gonna make me show my age.”

“You’re beautiful no matter how old you are.” He said with a smile as he squinted from the setting sun behind you. 

“Charmer.” You laughed. Taking a seat on the down long log you played with one of its delicate branches. “I was born in 1905 in St. Louis. My parents weren't rich but we did alright. Papa owned this shitty little diner on the bad side of town, got a lot of drunks and thugs that came to the place but it paid the bills. We lived in the apartment above it. Mama worked in a factory making men's shirts and I actually got to go to school for a while. But when I hit twelve I dropped out to help Papa with the diner. Life was good, you know? He loved that diner. Sold liquor and everything, a lot of the people that came kinda became extended family. 

Then the prohibition happened when I was fifteen and suddenly the diner wasn't doing well. Mama had to get a second job and I tried to help the best I could by taking odd jobs around town. Babysitting, errand running, anything to help keep the diner open and a roof over our heads but Papa was too proud to accept help from me or Mama so he did what he had to. One of our best customers was this gangster.. His name was Squeaky Pete. Had this really annoying high pitched voice. His vocal chords got damaged in a fight or so I was told. Anyway, he came to Papa with a proposal: he would use the back room and basement as a speakeasy and he would pay for the upkeep of the diner. Papa didn't even think he just said yes. They opened the place a few months later. Called it the Primrose. After Squeaky's mother apparently. 

For the next few years things were okay. I grew up surrounded by gangsters. Mama hated that. Always told me to be cautious, never look them in the eye, watch my mouth or better yet don’t even talk to them, avoid them at all costs, and by the time I was old enough to really understand what was happening Papa made me promise to never go into the Primrose. I broke that promise when I turned twenty one. I was just so damn tired of being careful. 

So I got into my prettiest dress, did my make up, hair, the whole nine yards and when my parents went to sleep I went down. Victor recognized me and tried to say no but Squeaky showed up and told him to let me in that I was old enough.  

I spent all night down there. One night turned to two and two to three before I knew it. I was a frequent customer and my parents never caught on as far as I knew anyway. I got close to Squeaky, real close.” 

“You dated a mobster?” Eddie said, stepping forward with his hands going to your hips. “No shit?”

You shrugged with a nod. “Yeah. He was a good guy if you looked past all the illegal shit he did.” 

“Jesus that's metal as fuck babe.”

Laughing, you wrapped your arms around Eddie's neck getting somber as you thought back to the rest of the story. “This is where it gets worse. Are you ready for it?”

With his nod you continued. “It was a few months later right before Christmas when the Primrose was raided. Cops everywhere. Just complete chaos, screaming, crying, guns going off. I remember being scared and Squeaky tried to get me to safety but I was shot.” 

Moving the top of your shirt to the side you pointed to a small area by your breast close to your heart and then lifted up the hem of your shirt to show a spot by your stomach and pelvis. “Right there, there, and there. Squeaky didn't have a choice; he had to leave me to save himself. I don't blame him. I don't remember much after that. But I do remember waking up in a cold room just covered by a sheet and I was scared because I was having a hard time staying awake. Tata was there. He was the coroner for the city at the time. He noticed me moving and he knew that I wouldn't last much longer and he told me what happened and offered to change me to save my life and I said yes. I wasn't ready to die. So he wrapped me up the best he could, snuck me out to his car and took me home, he got me set up in his room and gave me his blood. I had lost so much from my wounds that he didn’t need to bite me. I remember that for the first few minutes it felt like nothing was happening, then suddenly I felt like I was on fire, burning from the inside out. My heart stopped and I couldn’t breathe. I thought I was dying in the worst way possible. For hours I was stuck in his painful limbo, not dead but not really alive either. Then my heart started up again and I could breathe and I felt my body start to push the bullets out and heal over the wounds. By the next night I was okay. Tata never left my side, fed me blood from his ice box and made sure I was okay. I never got to go back home though. Papa and Mama thought I was dead so they closed the diner after the raid and moved away. Tata said I could stay with him and we moved away not long after. I was assumed dead so we couldn’t stay in St. Louis anymore.”  

“Do you miss them?” Eddie asked, pushing your hair from your forehead. “Your parents?”

“Everyday.” You nodded with your eyes closed. “They died a long time ago. I found them once in the forties and took some time to go see where they lived. But Mama had passed already and Papa was alone by then. I didn’t want to upset him so I stayed away. When he died they held an estate sale. I bought some of their things. I still have them in my room.”

“That double hinged picture frame you have on your dresser. It’s got a photo of an older couple in it. That your parents?”

“Mhm.” You nodded again looking up with him. “Eddie, answer me honestly. Did you ask because you want to be turned?”

Eddie looked you dead in your eyes and nodded. “Yeah. I wanna be with you forever. I don’t wanna grow old while you stay young and beautiful. You’re it for me baby. I love you.”

“I love you too. You know you won’t be able to see Wayne for a very long time. It'll be too dangerous." 

“I know.” He nodded. “I’ll do whatever it takes to stay by your side.”

Biting your lip, you took in a deep breath. “I’ll talk to Tata and Anya. Tata is the head of the family so it’s his decision.”

Nodding Eddie leaned down to kiss you. He would wait for as long as it takes

That night you sat in the large library that was supposed to be the dining room of your humble home. Florin Crudo, or Tata as you call him, had the home built in the woods just off Cornwallis by Lake Jordan in the early 70s and after it was completed he had moved your little undead family in. He had decided after moving in that since you didn't eat food that the dining room would make a lovely library to hold all the books that he had collected over his lifetime. 

So here you sat reading a first edition of Frankenstein when you looked up at your adopted parents. Erzsébet Crudo, your Anya, was sitting on the loveseat cuddled up with Florin, with a book in their hands while your adopted brother Sébastien and his wife Madeleine sat by the window playing chess and flirting from the looks of it. 

“You look troubled, Suflețel.” Florin said, looking over his book at you. “Something you would like to talk about?”

That got the attention of the members of your family who all stopped what they were doing to look at you.

“Eddie and I talked today. He asked questions about what being turned was like.” You told him as you closed your book on your finger to hold your page. 

“And what did you tell him?” Sébastien asked as he turned in his chair. It wasn’t lost on anyone in the room that your brother and his wife had no love loss for Eddie. They found him annoying for the lack of a better term. Madeleine once said that he was too loud and showy for her.

“I told him the truth.” You snarked back, rolling your eyes a little. “I have no reason to lie to him. He wants to be turned.”

Your parents looked at one another before they sat up, closing their own books as well. 

“Is that what you want?” Anya said as she set her book on the table. 

“I love him.” You nodded, sitting up more to look at them. “He wants to be with me forever and I want to be with him forever.”

“I don’t think it's a good idea.” Sébastien said standing up to move over to the sofas you were sitting at. 

“Why not?” You snapped, “He makes me happy. As my brother you should want that for me.”

“He just doesn’t seem like he would be reliable enough to keep our secret.” He said looking over at your parents. 

“He’s kept mine for a while now. Why would it suddenly change when he’s one of us?”

“I just don’t think -”

“You changed Madeleine cause you loved her even though she was dying of syphilis in some french whorehouse!” You argued back completely standing up to face your much taller brother. Madeleine stood up quickly making the chair she sat on scrap against the wooden floor as she stomped from the room.

"Y/N!" Your Anya yelled shocked at tour behavior. 

“Ma cherie! Wait!" Sébastien yelled to her before he turned back to you, leaning down a little to get closer. “This isn’t about her!”

“Enough!” Florin yelled as he stood from the love seat holding his hands up to quiet the both of you. “Sébastien leave your sister alone. Eddie is a nice boy who has proven that he could keep our lives secret. Y/N apologize to your brother and sister-in-law, throwing Madeleine's past in their faces wasn’t necessary.”

You muttered a quiet apology to your brother before he ran out to find Madeleine. You’ll have to apologize to her later. Looking up at Florin you take a seat again. “I don’t want to lose Eddie.”

Sighing, Florin stepped towards you putting his hand on your head. "I'll have to talk to Hopper. Then he and I will talk to Eddie together. I don't want to bring us any trouble by going behind Hopper's back." 

Nodding you stood up and hugged Florin. "Thank you Tata."

He hugged you back before he pushed you gently towards the door. "Go apologize to Madeleine."

"Yes, Tata." You nodded again before you turned to leave the room. 

Erzsébet sighed as she leaned back against the love seat. A little giggle in her voice. “She's horribly modern isn't she?” 

“She always has been.” Florin laughed and walked over to her. “She has a much easier time changing with the decades.” 

“What are we going to do about Eddie?” 

“I'll talk to Hopper and the boy. Make sure he understands what he's asking.” Florin said as he sat down next to his wife. “Everything will work out how it’s supposed to.”

“I’m sorry. He wants to do what?” Hopper said as he blinked at Florin and then turned to Eddie who was sitting on one of the sofas in the Crudo library, Hopper hands sat on his hips as he tried to understand what was said to him. 

Florin sighed as he looked over at Eddie. It has been a few days since that night you brought up Eddie wanting to turn and he had called Hopper a day later to ask him to stop by. He had also asked you to bring Eddie by so the three of them could discuss this situation they found themselves in. “Eddie has expressed interest in turning. I asked you here as a courtesy, my family has a good standing with you and I didn’t want to do anything behind your back. We know the rules.”

Wiping his hand down his face the Chief looked over to Eddie. “I’ve known you for a long time, kid, and in all these years you have done some stupid shit but I think this takes the cake. I mean are you even aware of what you’re asking? What you’re leaving behind?”

“Of course I am.” Eddie replied, sitting up straight. “Besides, Wayne just moved from night shift to day shift, so I’ll still be able to see him, and the sun doesn’t hurt them so I know that after the change I can still live my life like I normally do.”

“It’ll take a while for your body to properly resist the sun.” Florin said, his hand moving to Eddie's shoulder. “But with time and proper feeding you’ll be fine.”

“Now hold on,” Hopper said, holding his hands up. “I still haven't said yes.”

“Why do you even get a say?” Eddie challenged as he stood up from the couch his eyes glaring into Hoppers. “This is my life. This is what I want. I love her Hopper. I wanna be with her for as long as she’ll have me whether that's sixty years or six hundred. Just know that if you say no I’ll just go find someone who will say yes.”

“Now, now,” Florin said, stepping between the two men. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Jim…”

Hopper stared sternly at Eddie before he let out a huge sigh, his hands going back to his hips. “Same rules apply. No feeding in town, you get hungry, you leave Hawkins. Not even the wild animals are fair game, I don’t need any hunters finding deer carcasses, and be aware that no matter how much I like you kid, if you lose it and go into a frenzy I will take you out. Am I clear?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded his head as a smile started to spread on his lips. “I get it, Hopper.”

“Florin. You’re in charge of him.” Jim said shortly and turned, moving towards the door. He had to get back to the station. “Don’t make me regret this Munson.”

“I won’t.” 

“I’ll watch over him just like I do the rest of my family.” Florin said with a nod and together the two of them watched as Hopper left the room. With the door open the two men could see you pacing the hallway outside a worried look on your face as Hopper left out the front door.  “Suflețel, come in here please.”

Your head snapped towards them and you quickly made your way into the room. “What did he say?”

Erzsébet, Sébastien, and Madeleine followed you in two of the three looking incredibly uninterested in the current moment. “Everyone, it looks like we’ll be getting a new member to our little family. I expect all of you to be kind and help him as he transitions.” He looked at your brother and sister-in-law with a serious gaze. “I know how you feel but he is your sisters chosen and we should support them as we did you two.”

Happiness bubbled over in your chest and you let out a cheer as you rushed to Eddie jumping into his arms, your legs going around his waist as he held you to him, his hands going under your thighs to support you. “Are you absolutely sure this is what you want?”

“Absolutely.” Eddie nodded his head as he smiled at you. “I have never wanted anything so badly in my entire life.”

“I love you.” You muttered, leaning your forehead against his. 

“I love you too.” He sighed, completely content now knowing that he didn’t have to fight Hopper.

“Edward,” Florin said with a small smile on his face when he looked over at the two of you before he turned more serious. “I need you to understand that the change won't be easy. It’ll hurt and you’ll feel every second of it. If this is really what you want you need to get your things in order. Pack a few bags, you'll be staying here with us until you can control yourself after the change, and you’ll need to tell your Uncle something.”

Eddie nodded his head as he looked at your adopted dad over your shoulder. “I’ve already been telling him that Y/N and I are thinking of getting out of town for a while. Just road tripping across the country, so he’ll expect us to be gone for a while.”

“That was very smart of your Eddie.” Erzsébet said as she moved over to the two of you, her hand going to his shoulder. “I look forward to having you in our family.”

“Thank you,” Eddie smiled. He felt you unwrap your legs and set you on the ground, his hands moving up to your back. Looking down at you his smile widened. “So when do we do this?”

“Give us a few days.” Florin said as he looked over at Sébastien. “Will you be able to get us a good supply of blood and equipment from the hospital?”

Sighing, in mild annoyance Sébastien nodded his head. “I’ll talk to Marcus, see what I can do.”

“Excellent.” Florin nodded his head as he turned to Eddie, making a face at him and in a playful voice he muttered. “Say goodbye to the light Edward.”

Giving out a laugh Eddie nodded his head, his hand rubbing your back as he looked at you. He couldn’t wait to be with you forever.

Time passed and the fateful day was upon you as you pulled your car up to the Munson trailer. Taking a deep breath you stepped from your car and headed up to the steps of your boyfriend's house before you ascended them and knocked on the door. It was a Saturday so Wayne was home to answer the door. He smiled at you when he saw you.

“Hey sweetie, Eddie’s finishing up packing. Come on in.” Wayne greeted letting you into the house. 

“Hi Wayne!” You smiled back at him as you entered, your eyes being drawn to the two bags full of Eddie’s clothes.. “How’s the day shift treating you?”

“It’s taking a bit to adjust but I’m getting used to it.” Eddie’s Uncle smiled as he sat on the arm of his recliner. “Where are you two crazy kids headed to first?”

“I think we wanted to head up to Michigan first.” You smiled, as Eddie came back out his last bag in his hands. 

“Hey Batty.” He smiled, dropping the duffle by your feet and he leaned in to kiss you. “Ready to go?”

“Ready when you are.” You nodded gazing up at him with your own bright smile. You could see a bit of nervousness in his eyes, you didn’t blame him, it’s a scary path he’s about to head down. 

He nodded before he looked over at Wayne and gave him a little smile as he walked over. “You take care of yourself, old man. I’ll be back in a few months.”

“Have fun and be safe.” His Uncle said as he pulled him in for a hug. “You call me if you have any problems. You hear me?”

“Yeah I hear you.” Eddie said, slapping his hand on his uncle's back before he pulled away. “Love you Wayne.”

“Love you too Son. Now get goin’.” He said, gesturing you both towards the door. “Gotta hit the highway before it gets too late.”

Leaning down you grabbed one of Eddie’s duffles smiling at the two men as you held your hand out for Eddie. “Time to go love.”

Nodding Eddie grabbed the two other duffles and held one in his hand while he threw the other on his shoulder. Taking your hand with his free one he led you through the trailer door and down the steps to your car. Packing his bags into your trunk you gave one final wave to Wayne as you got into the driver seat and started your car towards home. 

“Nervous?” You asked as you looked over at him watching as he looked out of the passenger window.

“I would be lying if I said no.” Eddie chuckled a little, you could hear the nerves in his voice. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know? We could literally just go on this road trip.” You wanted to give him this out in case he was having second thoughts. You wanted him to know you wouldn’t love him any less if he decided he didn’t want this anymore. 

“No, I want this.” Eddie said, turning to look at you. 

You nodded your head as you turned onto Cornwallis, past the Harrington house, past the Byers house, and turned down the path to your home. Pulling your car into the driveway you were greeted by Florin and Erzsébet who were standing on the porch waiting for you. You and Eddie looked at one another before you exited the car moving around to the trunk to grab Eddie's bags. Together hand in hand again you walked towards the house.

“Are you ready for this?” Florin asked seriously as he watched the two of you join them at the porch.

“Absolutely.” Eddie nodded, squeezing your hand in his own before the door of you walked into the house. 

Florin closed the door behind you all as you harder to your room to set Eddie’s bags down. “We'll wait until dark. That way you won't have to worry about the sun for a few hours. Until then do you have any questions?”

For the next few hours the four of you sat in the library chatting, answering any and all of Eddie's questions. Your brother and sister-in-law joined you at one point. And when the time came the six of you traveled into the guest room. You wanted him to be as comfortable as possible but you knew it would be the exact opposite. Moving around the room you got him settled sitting on the bed and put his long curls up into a bun as Tata and Sébastien moved medical equipment round the room. 

“It's time.” Florin said quietly as he rolled up the sleeves of his black button down. “Last chance to change your mind.” 

Eddie shook his head looking at Florin and then back to you as he held your hand. “Let's do this.” 

“Alright. Sébastien the heart monitor please.” Florin directed and watched while Eddie took his shirt off to allow your brother to hook him up. Soon the sound of his heart beat filled the room and you noticed it was a little fast but he was nervous. 

Moving off to the side you never let go of Eddie's hand as Florin moved towards him. His cool hand coming up to check both sides of his neck for a good spot giving you a sideways look when he found the year old bite scars from when you fed off Eddie in his room. 

You looked down at Eddie's hand acting like nothing was wrong. 

“That was my fault.” Eddie said quietly. “She needed to feed and I got nervous that she was going too long between feedings. She fought me on it but I convinced her. She didn't take much and took care of me after.” 

Nodding his head in understanding, Florin dropped it and found the spot he was looking for. Closing his eyes he felt his fangs elongate and in a flash he sank his teeth into Eddie’s neck. 

The boy in question closed his eyes tightly, face screwed up in pain, his heart rate sped up as the monitor went nuts, the beeping so loud it was driving you crazy as he squeezed your hand. He didn't hear you as you whispered sweet things to him, all he could focus on was the feeling of cold over taking his body and the dizziness that started to spin the darkness behind his eyes. He felt weak. Florin's fangs were much bigger than your own and he could feel his blood leaving his body. It was different but the same as when you fed on him but this time there was no safeword.

You looked at the heart monitor as the beeping slowed. He was close. Your Anya stepped forward, her hand coming up to touch Florin on his back to let him know and your father figure drew back keeping his hands on Eddie to keep him steady as he licked the blood from his lips. “Lay him down.” 

You moved into action getting Eddie into a comfortable position and went to sit by his side as Florin moved to the other side of the bed biting his own wrist as he went before holding it up to Eddie lips. 

“You have to drink.” He instructed lightly watching as Eddie shakily looked at you and when you nodded you helped him latch on to the offered wrist rubbing his back as he started to drink. 

“That's it baby.” You muttered. You hoped praising him would help. “You can do it.” 

Your Tata let him drink his fill until Eddie himself wrenched away, his body seizing, his breathing coming in short quick pants, as the change started. It was coming on quick but since Eddie was a strong healthy young man it didn't surprise any of you. There was nothing for the change to heal. You heard the monitor give out a long continuous beep as his heart stopped and he struggled to breath. You held him as close as you could trying to give him any comfort. When he stopped breathing you looked up to Florin, panic clear on your features, as Erzsébet came to you, setting her hand on your shoulder.

“This is normal.” He said with a nod as he watched. This change would only take a few minutes he could tell by how quickly Eddie was reacting and as a vampire who had sired all four of his family members he could tell when it would take longer. Your change has been the longest since you had been shot three times, the damage inside of you had been substantial. Eddie’s quick change was easy compared to your but still, painful nonetheless

Eddie had never been in so much pain in his entire life. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, all he felt was pain. Every inch of his body felt like it was overheating. His lungs felt like they were being crushed by his rib cage. You had explained exactly how it felt, he knew it would feel like this but he wasn't ready. At first it was cold, numb, like he wanted to sleep but once the metallic taste of Florin's blood touched his tongue he couldn't get enough. Then the pain started and it kept rolling through him in long sharp waves. Minutes felt like they went on for hours and suddenly, everything stopped. He felt weightless and his eyes snapped open as he took in a huge lung full of air. He looked around wildly, everything was too bright, too vivid, and then you suddenly came into his line of sight. Your lips were moving but he couldn't make it what you were saying. The sound of his heart slowly beating was so loud until it faded away. Then all he heard was you. 

“Love?” You asked as he stared wide eyed at you. “Can you hear me?” 

“Yeah. Yeah I hear you.” He mumbled as he focused on you, he could hear your heart beating slowly but it was so loud. And he felt hungry. Hungrier than he's ever been. He could smell blood but couldn't see it. “I'm starving.” 

“Here, drink this.” Sébastien said, passing you a few blood bags. 

Carefully you take them from him and help Eddie into a better position so he can drink. Tapping his lips with the bag you smiled at him. “Open up baby.”

The sight of blood made Eddie's fangs pop out which made him gasp as he opened his mouth, his tongue poking at the tips. “Shit.”

You laughed as you held the bag up watching him drop his tongue and he looked up at you with a small pout before you slapped the bag against the points of his fangs letting them pierce the bag so he could feed. 

Once that bag was drained he looked back up at you again after he took the bag from his mouth. His excitement to see the world as you do overpowering him. “Can we go outside?”

“In a bit okay?” You mumbled as you leaned your forehead against his. “I just want you to rest for a little longer. Besides, we have until the end of the world to explore.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #vampire!eddie #vampire!girlfriend #vampire girlfriend!reader #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #st s4 #stranger things one shot

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Work From Home | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends! Here's a fluffy, silly little thing!

If you like my stuff, throw me a reblog 🥰

Warnings: imposter syndrome, stupid jokes

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

“Whatcha dooooin?” Bucky plopped down into a kitchen chair, bowl of cereal in hand. He noted your cold coffee, the way you scowled down at the stack of paper in front of you, the transfixed stare you wore. Either Fury had sent you some truly perplexing intel, or you weren’t pleased with your last month’s credit card statement.

“Buck, hey. Good morning, babe…” You dragged your eyes from the important documents, your need to see Bucky’s sleepy morning smile and messy hair taking priority. “When did you get up?”

Bucky shook his head, “Doll, I’ve been clanging around in the kitchen for like, twenty minutes. I even called out to you- you didn’t hear me?” He took a bite of his cereal and shot you a wink, knowing damn well that you’d been too engrossed in what lay before you.

Embarrassment warmed your cheeks. It was just like you to have tunnel vision when it came to work. And if Bucky hadn’t sat down in front of you just now, you wouldn’t have noticed he was awake until lunch.

“No… I’m sorry.” You threw Bucky a sheepish smile, “I was just really focused on this stuff Fury sent me. Some of it is… weird”.

Bucky cocked an eyebrow at you; to hear you call intel ‘weird’ instantly piqued his interest. Nothing about your life together was ‘normal’. He was the ex- Winter Soldier turned hero, and you, the special agent he’d fallen head over heels for. The two of you had seen a talking racoon from space, Thanos, and an event that eliminated half the universe’s population- what could be weirder? 

“This is a list of all the new players SWORD has picked up on recently,” you thumbed through the large stack of papers, “Fury wanted me to flag anything that seems like a threat”.

“Oh, I wanna help. Hit me!” Bucky sat up straight and took another bite of his cereal, ready to help you sort out the mess.

“Okay, um, there’s a young woman, Kate Bishop: expert martial artist and archer.” She seemed promising. The prospect of a strong young woman joining the team warmed your heart. Kate Bishop seemed to you like a promising young upstart, but your premature approval quickly soured. “Oh… she was once thought to be the Ronin. And her mom works with King Pin.”

Bucky fervently shook his head, “Her mom works with who? Yeah, no, absolutely not. I don’t trust her”. After everything that happened with the Hydra / SHIELD double agents, Bucky wasn’t interested in any possible gray area when it came to new team mates.

You scanned the rest of the page, landing on a particularly fun fact. “Okay, hear me out: Says here that she recently befriended Clint.”

“Ehh, I don’t love that”, Bucky sighed. “I mean, he was the real Ronin. How does that-”

“Hang on! Apparently, she gets on Clint’s nerves all the time. Like, drives him crazy”, you giggled.

“Oh… then in that case, it’s fine. She’s cool”.

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at the loud laugh you let loose. “I thought the same. But it also says that she actually helped take her mom down and saved a lot of people, too. But the Clint thing is what really sold me”.

Bucky shoveled more cereal into his mouth and gave you a thumbs up, signaling for you to keep going. He knew this wasn’t a game, and that a very real threat could lurk withing the pages in front of you- but he found himself smiling. He loved spending time with you, even if it was work related.

“Next is another young woman: Yelena Belova, former Black Widow assassin. Known associates include Red Guardian, General Dreykov, and…” Your mouth ran dry at the next name on the list, “Natasha Romanoff. Holy shit- she’s Nat’s adoptive sister”. 

Bucky gave her the immediate thumbs up. He knew just how hard Nat had worked to try and wipe her ledger clean, and trusted that Yelena was the same. His chest ached every time he thought about his friend Natasha- he never even got to say goodbye. Part of him actually hoped to meet Yelena on the off chance that she’d remind him of his lost friend, of the woman who’d helped him get his life back.

“I’m not worried about her,” Bucky shrugged, “What’s next?”

“Okay, um, apparently there was some kind of multiversal opening in New York City that let two other Peter Parkers into our world-”

“Oh, so now there’s three Peter Parkers? Nope. Red flag. I don’t like it.” Bucky gave you a double thumbs down, paired with a dramatic frown. 

“Oh my god, Buck”, you laughed, “you gotta get over this weird thing you have against Peter. He’s a kid!”

“He’s a little asshole, babe. I don’t like him- and I don’t want two more of him running around”. 

You held your hand up to Bucky, silencing him as you continued to read the file on Peter Two and Peter Three. “Okay, just hang on. It says here that the other two went back home already. They helped defeat some guys who came from their worlds- oh, it was that massive showdown at the Stature of Liberty! They took down some guys called Green Goblin, Electro, Sandman, The Lizard-”

“The Lizard? What kind of name is that for a villain?” Bucky scoffed and took another bite of his Cheerios, “Or was it just a big lizard? Like, Godzilla style?”

Your eyes scanned the page for a while before landing on the information Bucky was after. “Oh, ‘The Lizard’ is the alias of Dr. Curtis Connors, a formerly well-respected biologist previously employed by something called Oscorp. So… doctor turned lizard, I guess.”

Bucky shrugged, “alright, well, if the other Peter Parkers fucked off, then we’re good. Who’s next?”

Bucky watched you read over the next page, a puzzled expression pulling at your features. Your eyes reached the end of the text, only to shoot right back up to the top. This was something you’d never seen before, had never even heard of. 

“Next is… okay, it’s this guy- or, guys? I don’t know.” You looked up at Bucky and then back down at the page, “one is a ‘gift shoppist’ named Steven Grant from England, and the other, Marc Spector, is a mercenary from the US.”

Bucky waited for the other shoe to drop. He wasn’t sure what was so odd about these guys, or why someone who worked in a gift shop would grab SWORD’s attention. But a long moment passed without any elaboration on your end, and Bucky found himself needing answers. 

“Okay… so? What’s their deal? Are they a team of bad guys committing gift shop heists or something?” Bucky chuckled at his own stupid joke and dove back into his Cheerios.

“Um… no, not quite. It appears that they’re kind of… two pieces of one person? Like, sometimes Steven does things, but then doesn’t have any memory afterward.”

Bucky laughed with a mouth full of cereal, “huh, been there!”

You rolled your eyes at Bucky, “No, not like that. This isn’t a brainwashing situation. It says here that Steven is an alter of Marc.”

Bucky cocked his head to the side, “an alter?”

“Yeah…” you ran your eyes across the paragraphs of text a few more times before fully understanding. “Ohhhh. Marc has Dissociative Identity Disorder.” You clocked the uncertainty in Bucky’s eyes, the need for more information. “It’s like Steven is living in Marc’s head; Marc created Steven when he was young as a way to cope with the guilt of his brother dying”.

“Shit. Well, that’s- wait, why is he in SWORD’s file? Doesn’t sound to me like he poses even a whisper of a threat”.

You slapped your palm against your forehead with a satisfying smack, “oh, duh, maybe I should tell you the important part- the part that really tripped me up.”

“Let’s hear it, doll.” Bucky rubbed his palms together in preparation for some wild shit, but never could have expected what you said next.

“Marc is an avatar for the Egyptian god of the moon, Khonshu.”

Bucky stared at you with a blank expression, “I’m sorry, what?”

“It says here that Marc was on death’s door after he got shot on a job in Egypt, but Khonshu saved him by turning him into his avatar.” You glanced up at Bucky and then back down to the page, “um, apparently, he now ‘protects the travelers of the night, and brings vengeance to those who would do them harm’. Thoughts?” 

Bucky shrugged, “I don’t know. Sounds like a cool guy to me”.

You rolled your eyes at Bucky, “I mean, yeah, babe. He sounds cool, but do you think there’s a threat there?”

Bucky once again spoke with a mouthful of cereal, “Oh, right. Nah, I think it’s fine. I mean, he protects people, right? That’s his thing?”

Before today, you’d never even heard of Marc Spector or his Egyptian god friend Khonshu, and yet you found yourself tasked with deciding whether he posed a threat. “Um, yeah? I guess? I don’t know… why did I volunteer for this job? I don’t know anything about any of this”. 

You pushed the file containing its many mysteries as far down the table as it would go, hoping to banish the information from your brain. Sometimes, you hated how fast your mind moved. It often left you reeling, spinning in dizzy circles of information. Bucky watched as you slumped forward and grabbed for your coffee, but he couldn’t let you take a sip.

“We both know this is cold, doll. Let me get you a fresh one, okay? I’ll be right back”. He prepared your coffee just the way you liked, adding a sprinkle of cinnamon to the top. Bucky knew just how eager you were to please, how your hand always shot up first when Fury asked for a volunteer. Bucky loved the pride you took in your work, but hated the self-doubt that followed soon after.

He placed the coffee down in front of you and took the seat next to yours. His hands rested gently on either side of your face, locking your gaze on him. “Okay, listen to me. I know I’ve said this to you a hundred times before, but you’re not an imposter.” Before you could come up with a self-deprecating rebuttal, Bucky stopped you. “I know it feels like you don’t know what you’re doing, but everyone feels that way. Nobody knows what the fuck is going on, doll, especially in our line of work.”

“I don’t know, seems like everyone else on the team is an expert in this shit” you grumbled. Bucky was sweet, but his words couldn’t stop the parasite of self-doubt devouring your brain. You’d always felt like your best wasn’t good enough, like everyone else soared while you struggled to get off the ground. “It’s not self-doubt if it’s true, Buck”.

Bucky pulled you into his lap and held you close to his body- it was the only thing that could make you feel better when the negative self-talk crept in. Silencing it was damn near impossible, but if you couldn’t put it on mute, the comfort of Bucky’s embrace could at least lower the volume.

“You wouldn’t be on the team if you didn’t know what you’re doing, sweets. You’re smart, and you’re strong, and you work harder than anyone.” He tightened his grip on you just a bit, “You know exactly what you’re doing, but your mind is sabotaging you. It’s analysis paralysis, baby.”  

Without warning, Bucky shifted you from the comforting cradle of his arms and had your legs straddling his hips. His hands found your face, and his eyes drilled into yours. “Trust your gut! Without thinking- does this Marc-Spector-moon-guy seem like a threat? No thinking! Just answer!”

“No!” you shouted, the confidence returning to your voice. “I think he’s fine. And he’s basically two heroes in one, that’s a pretty good deal”. The smile finally returned to your face as the weight of your task melted from your shoulders. It felt good to side-step the second guessing and commit to what you knew deep down to be the truth. 

Your lips found Bucky’s in a perfect, gentle kiss full of admiration and gratitude. He knew you better than anyone, even better than you knew yourself. He understood the inner workings of your mind almost too well, as though he’d found a manual somewhere and read it cover to cover.

“Thanks, Buck. I know I get a little too intense sometimes, and I can’t stop thinking, and then I question everything, and it’s like this-”

Bucky silenced you with a kiss. “All I ever wanna do is help, doll. I got your back.” He pulled you close and ran a gentle hand through your hair, eliciting a contented sigh from your chest. “You should always trust your gut.”

Bucky didn’t know how right he was. It was a gut feeling that first told you he needed a friend- and another that pushed you to introduce yourself to him. You’d trusted yourself all those months ago when your friends and parents cautioned you against dating the ex- Winter Soldier. And listening to your gut when it told you that Bucky was special had been the easiest thing in the world. 

With a renewed sense of confidence, you reached for the file and threw it open, “You ready for round two, Buck?” 

He gave you a nod and pressed a kiss to your cheek, “let’s do this, baby”.

“Alright…" you sighed, "we gotta talk about Wanda”.

———————————

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[glowingbadger]

Hi it’s me, crawling through the window. Would it be possible to get a crumb of arranged marriage w/ Hubert? His line w/ Dorothea about being willing to get married for politics sake has fueled my brain rot for him.

Good God I need to secure my windows-

I mean HELLO FRIEND ANON YES IT WOULD BE MY PLEASURE

Lol actually though, I have been thinking about this for Hubie since we all started chatting about that arranged marriage stuff! I think it's a perfect concept for him~

This like... got weird while I was writing it though?? Idk man hahaha it ended up on the less-spicy side of what I usually write, and with some very weird dialogue in places... Idk, I hope y'all like it. Maybe if there's interest, I'll follow this up eventually with a more smut-focused piece?

I've been traveling and working so much lately that I just don't even know what writing is anymore or how it works hahaha

TW: A brief mention of non-con

Hubert (FE3H) x Reader ("wife," neutral pronouns)

Arranged Marriage - semi spicy i guess?

"Frankly, he's a pain," Linhardt must be able to see your surprise and confusion written across your face. He goes on, "He's reliable and capable, of course, but also the most persistent nag you'll ever meet. Actually, no-" he glances upward as though to cross reference his own thoughts, "No, her Majesty is worse. But Hubert is a close second to be sure. Always on and on about sleep schedules and proper nutrition and etiquette..." He sighs and closes the massive tome on his lap, as though to close the conversation with it, "frankly, he's an insufferable mother hen. Does that help?"

"Well, it's... Not what I expected," you admit with a shrug, "but thank you all the same."

~

It's been several weeks since the papers binding you in marriage to Hubert Von Vestra had been signed- and this alone had sufficed. No ceremony, no grand ball, just paperwork and a handshake with your father. A handshake that ensured that, even under the Empire's unification, he would maintain nominal control over his considerable portion of land, and in return, would swear absolute loyalty to her Majesty. It was a beneficial arrangement for all parties, and you were not ignorant to the part you played. You were hardly even a bargaining chip- moreso, a hostage.

Your new husband had made no secret of what manner of harm may befall you if your family were to renege on their deal. Fortunately, you know your father to be a reliable coward, so you have no reason to believe he would be bold enough to step out of line.

Hubert Von Vestra is a terrifying man. A zealously loyal man of storied cruelty and a frigid disposition. His frame looms over you whenever he's near, and though he's hardly placed a finger on you since you'd been given over to him, his mere presence is... arresting. There's a sort of charisma to him that's equal parts frightening and fascinating. Perhaps it's madness brought on by your circumstances, but you can't help wanting to glimpse just the slightest bit into that brilliant, ever churning mind.

Unsurprisingly, he has been resistant to your attempts to understand him. He hardly indulges you in small talk, and if you were the paranoid sort, you'd think he intentionally makes himself busy when you're around. Eventually, perhaps out of sheer stubbornness, you'd settled on a routine of bringing coffee to his study adjoined to your bedroom in the evenings. He'd been visibly surprised the first time. It wasn't until the fourth night that he'd given a curt "thank you." About two weeks in, he'd actually sat back in his chair and laid down his quill pen to receive the cup from your hands. After a month, he'd leveled his narrow gaze at you and said,

"I cannot begin to fathom what satisfaction you glean from playing 'maid' to me."

"Well, I, uhm," you hadn't expected him to address you so directly, but you managed to say, "You... work so hard, I wanted to do something for you, I suppose."

His expression is inscrutable as he replies,

"You are aware that my work was much the same before you arrived."

"I am," you say softly, "But- all the same..." you trail off, and Hubert seems content to let the matter rest. And so you leave him be amidst his reports and correspondence, coffee at his side on the desk. Yet for as unproductive as your exchange might have seemed, it does leave you with an idea. The thought to learn about the man from those who knew him long before your arrival at the capitol.

~

Your investigation into the true character of your husband does not stop with Linhardt. In fact, his testimony only leaves you with further questions. But perhaps the others would say otherwise; perhaps the United Empire's most up and coming crest scholar simply inspires maternal behavior. This has to be the case- you simply can't imagine that the notoriously ruthless heir of the even more notorious Vestra lineage would be so... Doting.

And yet the more you learn of him, the more contradictory he seems.

Caspar's take is much like Linhardt's- a picture of a man far closer to a school marm than any assassin or master of torture. Ferdinand seems both smitten and incensed by him, oscillating wildly between the two. Then eventually, to your shock, Bernadetta takes the initiative to speak to you about Hubert of her own accord.

"I'm, uh, really so-sorry to bother you!" she approaches with arms drawn close to her chest and eyes resolutely avoiding yours, "I- I just heard that you were... asking about Hubert, so, I, uh..."

It takes some time to prompt her further. You assure her again and again- no, this isn't intrusive at all- yes, you'd very much like to hear her perspective- no, you're not mad at her. In truth, you're endlessly intrigued about what a gentle soul like Bernadetta would have to say about a man feared across the continent. Finally, she manages,

"He's... actually really kind!" she blurts out, as though the words would abandon her if she gave them the window of opportunity. Your eyebrows raise slightly.

"You think so..?"

"Yes, completely-!" she stammers, "I know he's super, super scary, and powerful and spooky and cold and, uh, all of that. But still," her voice falters as she continues, "He only scolds people when they do something dangerous. And he only hurts people to protect others. I... I know he's done some te-terrible things. But... he's always been nice to Bernie," finally, she meets your eyes with an imploring look in hers, "So, uh, I'm really grateful to him. And I think it would be really nice for someone to reach out to him. If... if that's not too weird or anything. For you."

You smile warmly and nod,

"Thank you, Bernadetta. I know it can't be easy for you to come to me with all of this, but... I'd like to try, if I can."

The opportunity doesn't come in the way you expect.

At first, it seems the night will proceed like many others before. You bring a cup of coffee to your husband's desk, setting it down quietly so as to not disturb him. He's silent, but this is common enough, so you head back to the bedroom to undress for the evening. All nights prior, he would lay beside you long after you'd settled in, then rise to resume work in the morning before you woke up- all the while never allowing your bodies to interact in any way.

Tonight, just as you're about to close the door to Hubert's study behind you, long fingers catch around your wrist, visibly startling you.

It's the most physical contact you've had to-date, but he only says,

"One moment."

You whip around to face him, a touch of anxiety evident in your eyes. It's clear in his own that he notices, but if anything, he only seems amused. He steps forward, his taller frame menacing you as he speaks,

"I understand that you have been busying yourself with some manner of investigation as of late."

It takes a moment for his meaning to reach you. When it does, your face burns and you can't bring yourself to meet his scrutinizing gaze,

"Oh, uhm..."

"I assure you, my dearest wife," he says with barely concealed venom, "anything that I do not wish for you to know will be kept from you. Aside from which, your efforts thus far have proven amateurish at best."

Something seems off about his tone. You could understand if he felt uncomfortable or hesitant about your efforts to learn about him, but this seems far more grave, more... business-like. He steps towards you once more, and you step back in turn. Yet before long, you feel your legs bump the edge of the bed. A gloved hand trails a fingertip down your jawline to your chin, then urges you to look up at him.

"Whatever you are planning, my dear, I promise it will be fruitless. You had best rethink how you spend your days before your actions bring you to harm."

"No, I-" your brow creases deeply, your face burns, your body burns hotter and you don't want to consider why, "I've just been trying to learn about you as a person, nothing else. We're- we're married, after all, so..."

He gives an abrupt, dry laugh.

"Ah, so I am to believe that you've been interrogating my allies out of some misguided affection, is that it?"

"Hubert, just listen to me!" for a moment, you feel bolstered, defiant, and you straighten your posture, "You won't tell me the first thing about you- the only way to learn so much as your favorite color is to ask someone who's known you for a decade!"

Briefly, he does seem to consider your words. But his eventual reply is as aloof as any prior,

"If you're no spy or politician, then you're worse- a fool." he says, and before you can respond, he's seized both of your wrists and pushed you back onto the bed. For a moment, the room spins and your voice leaves you. A shrewd eye watches you with cruel condescension as he pins you against the sheets.

"I should think that you'd be well aware what I'm capable of," he nearly whispers, "I personally ensured that the rumors spread through your father's territory and further still. Do you think that anyone would even dare lift a finger to help you if I chose to seek retribution for this recent behavior?" He draws nearer, his grip tighter at your wrists, "Perhaps as punishment, I'll simply take my pleasure from you by force."

Your lips tighten, you take a breath. Then, meeting his gaze directly, you reply,

"You won't."

His visible eye narrows.

"And what evidence do you have to prompt such unfounded confidence? Perhaps you have crafted a flattering falsehood of me in your mind," a mocking smirk curls his lips, "Am I a misunderstood sentimental sort to you, then? A sad, lonely man for you to save?"

You scowl, though you suspect it looks more like a pout to him.

"I don't know what I think of you yet- not completely. But I don't pity you like that, and I don't think you're sad or lonely. I know you're not."

For the first time, it seems that you've caught him off guard. That frigid mask falters for just a moment, and you go on before he can replace it,

"You're surrounded by people who care about you. I've seen it for myself. Whatever you've had to do in the service of your ideals- it hasn't kept the people around you from wanting to know and understand you, even if it's despite you."

Hubert is silent for a moment. His gaze bores into you like he thinks he'll discover some hidden layer if he can just keep digging. Then, he sighs,

"How did I ever become bound to such a troublesome spouse..."

When you wrest your arms from his grasp, his hands fall away with little resistance, and you think that perhaps he had never truly intended to keep you in place by force to begin with. He moves to leave the bed, but your fists find the front of his clothing and tug him back down to you.

You press your lips to his without hesitation, and you can feel him inhale sharply, his entire body rigid above you. His lips are surprisingly soft, his scent like coffee and old parchment, and though your heart threatens to burst from your chest, you hold firmly to him by his clothes. Near imperceptibly, he leans down against you, and your fear, along with any remaining doubts, begin to dissolve. Knowing he won't pull away, you let your hands relax against him, running up his chest where you can feel his own pulse pounding. It's so human, so entirely reasonable and normal. Now, at last, Hubert Von Vestra is merely a man of flesh and bone.

Your tongue meets his naturally, your lips parting in time with his as your kiss deepens to a fevered pace. One hand reaches that sharp, handsome jawline, reveling in the erotic sensation of his mouth moving against yours. And yet, all the while, his hands remain staunchly on the bed beside you. He doesn't touch you- doesn't even let his body meet yours.

It's impossible to tell whether passion or madness drives you to bring your teeth to his lower lip, a single insistent bite communicating desire mounting faster than you can contain. And for a moment, you sense something new; a sound catches in Hubert's throat, a reaction he fights to stifle. Then, he pulls away. His pale skin is tinted a rare shade of pink, and his hair is ruffled out of place enough to reveal both narrowed eyes. His cloak has spilled around his frame to surround you both, and somewhere in your frazzled mind, you imagine that you're caught in some beautiful, velvet-lined trap.

"I- must... return to my work." Hubert says stiffly. He pushes up from you and turns away, leaving you still flustered on the bed behind him. You sit upright, holding your arms tight around your body as you watch him straighten his hair and clothes.

"You, uhm..." your face reddens still as you search for the right words, "you could... join me in bed, if you liked."

Hubert turns to the door of his study, speaking without daring to even glance your way,

"Anything that you offer to me now will be born from the impulse to survive. I have been bargained with before." His shoulders slack just slightly, his voice low and sober, "The proudest nobleman will even sell off his own child to a monster if he feels it will spare him its teeth."

You open your mouth to protest, then shut it without a word. You feel that you know your mind and heart, even in this moment, but you lack the words to convince a man like this. In a feeble attempt, you murmur,

"You don't frighten me, Hubert. Not anymore."

He half turns toward you, though his hand remains on the handle of his study door.

"You yourself said that you do not know what you think of me," he says, "As such, I will not lay a hand on you until the day that you do."

You stare down at your hands in your lap, barely registering the sound of the door clicking shut as he leaves you in the bedroom. No matter how you try to sort out your tangled thoughts, the memory of his lips on yours won't leave them. If anything, it eclipses any sense of reason, standing resolutely in the way of your path to clarity. Letting out a groaning sigh, you fall onto your back on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as if it could offer you any advice.

What do I think about my own husband? You wonder, the thought nearly enough to make you laugh. Well for one, he's a pain.

#hubert von vestra #hubert x reader #fire emblem #feh #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem imagines #fire emblem fic #x reader

[katherinemallory]

#14 Who dares wins

If you are curious what has happened before, you can read the story from the very beginning. If not, it’s totally fine: #1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #6 #7 #8 #9 #10 #11 #12 #13

At 7 P.M. I went outside to see a cab Mallory had ordered for me. The weather resembled the day when I, Katherine Targett - the most recent addition to the double-0 section - drove my own car to meet my new supervisor... Only this time I felt relieved I didn't have to worry about the right way, the traffic jams... anything. I sat at the front seat. Some nostalgic songs came on the radio, one by one.

I had absolutely no idea what to wear, so I would look appropriate during that unofficial meeting. Not to mention I wasn't informed on the fact where this meeting would be held. It's not every day that a person like me, and most of all, a double-0, knows *that* little about the upcoming few hours, allowing someone to completely surprise her, I thought. My profession forced me to always predict what could happen next and, if possible, have full control of the situation, but that night I surrendered to fate. Kath, something has definitely changed in you.

What no one could make me change was the fondness of shirts and jackets. They've been one of my favourite parts of clothing since I could remember. As a little girl I’ve been looking up to men, and probably thought that dressing similarly to my male heroes would make me resemble them. It was a sign of my respect towards them, rather than jealousy or feeling inferior to men. So, after an hour or two of careful consideration, I've picked a not too formal not too casual white shirt in navy stripes and a pair of black chino trousers.

The darkness of the night made it difficult for me to remember the way. However, I was sure we were going to the outskirts of the city. It was a forty minutes drive - enough time to torture myself with mind-boggling questions. Naturally, the most frequently asked one was about the place of the meeting. I've been wondering where Mallory would like to talk to me and why he insisted on the meeting to be unofficial.

I noticed that we entered a long, dimly lit street. The cab slowed down, passing by a few single-family houses. Does it mean I'm going to see Mallory's... home?

The driver stopped in front of one of the gates and I've seen a figure waiting in the heavy rain under his black umbrella. The man must have been outside for a few minutes already. It was nearly impossible to see anything in the dark and rain (even though the cab stopped close to the lantern), but I recognized Mallory by the shape of his coat.

Before I got out of the cab, I looked at the house through the car window. It was a bit too large for a man who lived alone, but I guess he could afford it. Mallory opened the car door, holding the umbrella above me.

"Thank you," he said to the driver, raising his voice, as it was difficult to hear anything in the rain. "I've paid in advance."

"Good evening, sir," I greeted my supervisor, trying to meet his eyes in the dark.

"Good evening. Follow me."

I did as I was told. All the questions I had asked myself earlier, irrevocably disappeared. Just act naturally, Kath. Que sera, sera.

The place felt fascinating ever since I’ve entered it. It was a storey house that must have been built a long time ago. Inside, it looked pretty much like an extended version of M's office at the MI6 Headquarters. There was this old-fashioned atmosphere that I associated with my supervisor and it seemed Mallory liked wooden furniture combined with dark colours on the walls.

Mallory helped me to take off my double-breasted coat and then invited me to the living room.

"Would you like to have a drink?", he said, while entering the room. I quickly lost track of him.

"A glass of dry red wine will do," I answered, as I slowly strolled down the corridor, refusing to join Mallory in the living room just yet.

I took advantage of the absence of the host. I looked around and I immediately noticed the painting our section gave him last Christmas. It was the only decoration in the corridor, apart from one framed photo that was on the dresser. It showed Mallory in his SAS days.

I couldn’t possibly impose on Mallory, so I refused to ask him about the photograph, and walked into the room. Mallory put my glass on the table near the couch and let me sit there. I did as he suggested and observed his movements when he walked across the room with an empty glass in his left hand and a bottle of wine in the other. He leaned against the cupboard (full of bottles of scotch, champagne, and wine), this time pouring himself a glass.

"I suppose you wonder why I invited you here tonight..."

I was sitting on the couch with a glass of red wine in my hands. My legs were crossed, as I didn't feel confident at all. The distance between me and Mallory was just right - if he stood closer to me, I wouldn’t be able to focus on the conversation. This is what you’ve brought yourself to, Kath. You’ve fallen in love with that man badly.

"... the reason behind this are both my curiosity and concern," Mallory said slowly, as if he was explaining something, and then hesitated for a moment. "I've already told you on the phone that the reports you and Bond provided after a mission in Monte Carlo are *satisfying*, but... in light of recent events, it appears they do not cover everything."

Mallory took a sip from the glass and put the bottle on the cupboard. He stood straight up and looked so majestic and tough, he commanded respect. His eyes were filled with tenderness and seriousness at the same time.

"I hope you forgive me for being so straightforward... Is it true that Bond is interested in you?"

His question genuinely surprised me. Not only because I was sure he wouldn't care, but also because he knew something about my private life. He knew something was going on. I completely forgot that his role as the Head of MI6 was to have this kind of information.

"I wasn't aware you would like to know that, sir," I said, trying to sound emotionless, as I wanted to hide the truth from him. I had two big sips of wine.

"Oh, please. This is *not* an official meeting," he replied in a deep, but warm voice - the kind of combination I'd never expect from him. "There's no need to call me *sir*. I'm Gareth."

"Yes, si... Gareth."

"So?", he insisted. His tired, green eyes waited for my response. "The whole double-0 section talks about it," he added, slightly titling the glass he held in his hand. He was as relaxed, as if he has just asked me about my holiday plans or something similarly irrelevant.

"Oh... I... I admit it feels peculiar to find out the members of the section actually have time for gossiping," I joked, believing that it would help me to avoid giving him any details.

“Hmmm,” Mallory murmured and smirked, looking down on the glass. He seemed both amused and irritated, but continued as if nothing’s happened.

“That's definitely true. They should have not spread the rumours... but you didn't answer the question,” Mallory drawled coldly. His smile vanished and I was very  much aware that I shouldn't make more jokes about the matter. I answered honestly.

"Yes, it's true. At least it's what Bond has told me."

Mallory's face changed again. It expressed a mixture of emotions, mostly dissatisfaction. He put the glass on the cupboard and his hand has gone through his hair. Then he placed his hands on his hips with his fingers touching the braces. The light blue shirt matched the pinstripes on the navy trousers.

"I have to tell you it has happened for the first time since I run this department," he confessed, sounding uptight. "Bond has never declared his feelings for anyone in the double-0 section before... Believe me or not... The thing is... he is not someone who knows how to treat a woman... in the long run."

The way he delivered his statement left me speechless for a while. I couldn’t bear to look into his eyes, so I turned my head to the window. Still the same heavy rain.

"Thanks for your concern, but," I paused, trying to find the right words which wouldn't make me sound rude, and then I looked back at him. "Uhm... I thought you don't care about your employees' private lives."

He turned to the cupboard and took a sip of his glass.

"You're right, I don't care, as I've already told you before," Mallory looked down inside his glass and stirred the wine with the delicate movement of his wrist. He continued, looking me in the eye and sounding semi-friendly again. "And you could say it's none of my business. Which is true, unless two of my agents have an affair and it influences their work. You understand what I mean."

Of course I did understand. How could I even think that his concern was more personal. How could I even think that our dance meant anything to him... That he cared more... about me. I would have loved him to be worried about me, but it clearly wasn’t the case. I had to act like a professional.

"I perfectly understand," I replied, sounding as seriously as I could. "I can assure you there is nothing between me and Bond," I shook my head and felt that my shoulders went their way up. “So, this is not going to influence my dedication to the job”.

Mallory put his glass on the cupboard again and started to walk towards the couch.

“I believe you,” he said, stopping a few steps in front of me. “You didn’t lie to me. I appreciate that," he added, nodding his head.

Mallory changed his attitude so fast, that it didn’t make sense to me. I frowned and stood up.

“So, you asked me all this, but... you didn’t have to... right? How long have you known that...?”

"Long enough to connect the dots."

Typical Mallory, I thought. Straightforward and terse, avoiding unnecessary words. His response only confused me more.

"Now I get it... you sent me and Bond on a mission together to confirm your suspicions?”

“I didn’t have to.”

I gave him a questioning gaze. Mallory raised his left hand in an incredulous gesture.

“For God’s sake, Katherine! You’re a double-0,” Mallory sighed, shaking his head. “That requires a *special* level of controlling what you do. You *know* that. You agreed to this when you signed the papers. And besides,” he cleared his throat, “it doesn’t take a section chief to notice what is going on.”

"So... why I'm here!?” I raised my voice. “Is it your way to test my loyalty?"

Mallory didn't answer. Instead of this, he took the glass of red wine from my hand and placed it on the table. He looked at me with his clear green eyes. I realized I was standing really close to him.

The fact that Mallory refused to respond didn’t matter anymore. There was only one thought that crossed my mind at that exact moment. Everything or nothing.

I stepped forward, boldly looking up at his wrinkled face.

"This is an unofficial meeting, isn't it... sir?"

He laughed.

"It's Gareth."

"Gareth," I corrected myself and took a deep breath. Now I could smell his cologne.

"Nothing could have been more unofficial than this," Mallory assured me.

I locked eyes with my supervisor. There was nothing I wanted more in the world than to let him know that I love him. Instinctively, I stood on my toe tips and kissed him gently. It took me a few seconds to realize what I've done.

I thrown my arms around Mallory, when I felt his hands on my waist, locking me in a tight embrace. My knees got a little weak, but he held me safely in his arms. We went for a more passionate kiss, as if we've just been given permission to get carried away after years of denial. Thankfully, we didn’t have to pretend anymore.

I slowly moved my hands to Mallory’s neck. I tried to find his collar with my eyes still closed, and then I started to unbutton his shirt.

"No, Katherine," he said firmly, pulling me away.

My face immediately turned red and I started to stammer.

"Oh, I'm so-o so-orry, sir... I didn't wa-ant to... I-I ju-ust thought..."

"No, it's fine," Mallory added gently and kissed both of my hands to calm me down. His touch was surprisingly comforting, given the level of embarrassment. "First of all... I want you to know...” he took a deep breath, “...that I didn't invite you here, so I could use you. I mean..."

I knew exactly what he meant. What the man feels for me is not lust! I must be dreaming.

I placed one of my fingers on his lips, interrupting him. I gently touched his face with my other hand, caressing his cheek with my fingers. Then I hugged him tightly, putting one of my hands in his hair. Our cheeks were so close I could feel a smile appearing on his face.

...

We spent the rest of the evening cuddling on the couch and drinking wine. We barely said anything, probably still being in shock. However, none of us complained about it. It just felt right.

Suddenly, my phone rang, but I decided not to stand up. I preferred to remain in Mallory’s arms.

"Aren't you going to answer?", asked Mallory, whispering into my ear.

"What for?", I replied. "Let's not ruin this moment."

"Maybe it's something important."

"All right. I'll check it. Be right back," I said and placed a kiss on his left cheek.

I went over to the table to look at my phone’s screen. I stopped smiling. Mallory noticed it.

"Who is it?"

"It's Bond."

***

To be continued.

#fanfiction #james bond fanfiction #m #gareth mallory #katherine mallory #002 #goldfinger quote

[romanapologist]

montreal - roman hurt/comfort

pairing: this was written to all be platonic prinxiety, but can definitely be interpreted romantically !

warnings: unconventional self harm, non-graphic descriptions of wounds/injury

summary: a post-POF roman hurt/comfort fic in january 2021? yes <3

word count: 3.2k

notes: large portions of this were salvaged from one (1) night last summer at 4am when i was having a . time. the rest has been mainly recently written before i go to bed, with some extra bits added during my history classes B)) also shout out to [REDACTED]. u may not read this but if u do, i hope u know who u are & ilu

Virgil had been trying to calm himself down for the better part of an hour, as soon as they got back from the wedding fiasco; and he was doing a relatively okay job. Considering the circumstances, at least. Or so he thought, when he registered a spike in Thomas’s anxiety. This only served to make Virgil more anxious, because he had thought he had been doing well—until, he realized it wasn’t anxiety, not exactly, not fully—and it wasn’t coming from him.

Once he'd figured that out, it wasn't hard to trace the feeling to the imagination. He paused at the door. If this was where the strongest negative emotions were coming from, he already knew which side this was about. And could he really be surprised? Roman had wanted that callback for so long. Even at the court case, even when Roman gave Thomas his sentence, Virgil knew it killed him. And Virgil didn't do anything. Because he was so fucking scared of Thomas being bad, or of Janus winning, or something, and now whatever was going on was his fault, and--

And now was not the time for these thoughts. He breathed in. He opened the door.

Immediately, he was coughing out soot, heat burned his cheeks, his eyes blurred with protective tears forming against the smoke. It was hard to see, let alone process, what was happening. Then, he caught sight of the Dragon Witch. And he caught sight of—

“Roman!” Virgil choked on the yell, coughing again.

Obviously Roman couldn’t hear him from the distance, especially considering the brutal roar of the creature. Adrenaline kicked in, and as Virgil began to sprint towards the prince, he took in the entirety of the scene with alarm. Roman was...fighting, sure, except that Virgil had seen him fight before, and this... wasn’t right. Roman bested manticore-chimeras like it was a breeze, he HAD bested the Dragon Witch herself in every form she took, “just for training.” He always moved like he was in a ballet, not a battle, like it was more for show than challenge, and now...

Virgil watched Roman fall to a hard swish of the creature’s tail, and stay there. He almost expected the Dragon Witch to take mercy, or at least, to accept an early victory. But he watched her rear back, raise a taloned hand, the magma-red in her throat glowing brighter and brighter—just as Virgil got close enough to let fight win over flight.

Virgil crashed into Roman; they rolled just far enough that the swipe of claws only ripped the edge of Virgil’s jacket.

Immediate danger out of the way, Virgil clenched his eyes tight, trying to do it how Logan taught him. He found something that didn’t make sense--the grass. The grass was dry, therefore it should have been burning, but it wasn’t. He took that foothold to dispel all the fantastical elements of the scene, Dragon Witch and all her carnage blinking from existence. The new calm of the scene was jarring.

That just left a great big field, Virgil, and one absolute dumbass.

"What the fuck, Princey?!"

Virgil’s voice was distorted with stress, and Roman stared up at him wide-eyed, unsure—even terrified in a way that hurt. Virgil quickly pushed himself up so he wasn't pinning the other. Roman tried to copy this movement, only to groan, start coughing, and fall back again.

“Shit, I—“ Virgil looked at his hands and found red on them, looked at Roman and saw the color painting his chest. “I thought I dispelled all the imaginary stuff, why—?“

“Left brain sides can only dispel so much of what right brain sides feel,” Roman said, voice rough and thin and upsettingly casual, “Since they feel so real to me, you can’t get rid of them.”

“They feel…? Christ, ok, you need a medical kit, uhm—“ Virgil closed his eyes again; he was notoriously shitty at summoning things, and he had to concentrate for this—

“That’s ok; I’ve got it,” Roman said, letting out a quiet hiss as he propped himself up on one arm, and summoned the medical kit with the other, “You can go now.”

Virgil gaped at him in disbelief. When Roman attempted to stand up, and Virgil could no longer deny he wasn’t joking, he exclaimed, “Like Hell am I going, idiot!”

Roman just stared at him, and Virgil cursed under his breath. “Ok ok, let’s just... we should do this in the bathroom, uhm—“

Virgil awkwardly clambered over to Roman again, taking his hand, so he could blink them over together. He knew it would probably be more comfortable for Roman to sink in and out, but considering Virgil wasn’t practiced at that, he wasn’t going to risk screwing it up.

They apparated into the bathtub, and Virgil scrambled up, taking the med kit from Roman's hands.

Ok, ok, now Virgil just had to remember that one time Logan lectured them all on “Side Safety.” He took a shaky breath and washed his hands quickly, before turning back to Roman. He allowed himself to fully assess the prince this time and… Jesus. He was slumped against the back of the tub, having given up his attempts at composure while he thought Virgil wasn’t looking. His litany of scrapes, cuts, bruising, his shallow breathing, and--most of all--the wet, red patch slowly growing on his shirt, sparked renewed panic in Virgil.

“Ok, fuck, ok--let’s do this,” Virgil said, mostly to himself, as he knelt down by Roman to undo his already tattered shirt and take a wet towel to his chest. He had to suck in a breath at the sight of the jagged wound, a nauseous feeling catching up to him.

“You’ve already done a lot, you know,” Roman insisted. “You can--”

“If you tell me to go, Princey, I swear I’ll make these wounds worse myself,” he said, not meaning it in the slightest, which he would assume Roman knew--but the way Roman flinched and shut his mouth told a different story. “Shit, I didn’t mean that. Of course I didn’t mean that!”

Roman glanced away, and Virgil reached to cup his cheek, an instinct he didn’t know he had. Luckily, he caught himself in time to retract his hand. They both avoided eye contact for a second; Virgil cleared his throat; and he reached for the bottle of hydrogen peroxide before pausing. He vaguely recalled Logan mentioning how strong alcohols would only cause more harm, and they should just stick to mild soap instead. He gave the cut a longer look-over—it was certainly not a pretty sight, but probably not as bad as it looked. It was large, but not too deep. Plus, as sides, it would heal itself without needing anything like stitches or professional medical work. The past scars littering Roman’s body were proof of that. Actually--had he always had this many scars? Virgil squinted. How often did he do this?

Virgil finished cleansing and bandaging the wound to the best of his ability, with little talk beyond the occasional, soft “sorry” at Roman’s winces. When he had finished, he gave Roman his hoodie (an action the Prince was too tired to take much notice of), since summoning a new shirt seemed like a waste of whatever energy he had left.

“Ok, Princey, all done. Uhm, are you—how, how are you?” Virgil mentally kicked himself.

A small, bitter smile tugged at Roman’s lips for just a moment. He opened his mouth and then closed it, and finally shrugged. “Thank you for your help.”

It hurt, Virgil realized. Roman’s quiet voice, where near-shouting was his usual speech. His unkempt hair sticking to his forehead, where it was usually styled to be very lightly and intentionally ruffled. The bags beneath his eyes where there was usually concealer. All of it hurt.

Virgil sucked in a breath. “Look, I’m sorry if I’m being annoying, but I hope you know there’s absolutely no way I’m leaving yet.”

“Virgil,” Roman almost said it as a whine, which was closer to his usual style, so Virgil considered it progress.

“Roman,” Virgil deadpanned back.

Roman huffed. “Maybe I need space to really explore my feelings, and you’re actually being a terrible friend right now,” he argued.

“Uh-huh, well being a terrible friend is always my favorite, so,” Virgil leaned down, fumbling slightly as he picked Roman up bridal style, “We’re gonna get you to bed, and you can explore your feelings by sleeping.”

“Great, now you’re damsel-in-distressing me,” Roman said sarcastically, but he leaned his head into Virgil’s chest as he did so, which kind of ruined his point.

“Yeah, yeah. Act more like Megara next time, and maybe it’ll be different.”

•••

Roman groaned upon waking up. His whole body ached, but mainly it was focused around a sharper pain in his chest. He let his eyes flutter open, only to find Virgil staring at him from his desk.

“Ah,” Roman uttered, a jumble of memories from the past few hours returning. They felt foggy and mildly icky, but mainly the pain in them was the numb kind of pain, the tired kind. Really, it was indistinguishable from the dull ache of his bruises and cuts.

“Yeah,” Virgil said, as though he understood, even though he couldn’t possibly. “Uh, wanna talk about it?”

It was clear Virgil felt awkward asking the question. It was unclear whether that was due to his tendency to be embarrassed by everything he said, or—far more likely—that he wanted to stop babying a stupid prince, and just go about his business.

Roman sat up, suppressing a wince as best he could. “Do you want to hear about it?”

“Of course I do.” Virgil said it without an ounce of hesitation. Roman’s breath caught.

“Oh.” Roman shifted slightly over, and Virgil took a seat by him on the bed. “Okay. Uhm. I don’t know, I just—I messed up.” What else was new?

“...What did you mess up?” Virgil asked, with an inkling of suspicion, like he knew what this was about. But it wasn’t that; it wasn’t the callback—that was over and done and dead. Roman had created so many fantasies, so many crazy scenarios where they could somehow still make it in that stupid movie, and it had always filled him with hope or crushing pain or something, but as of this afternoon? He didn’t even care. It didn’t matter.

So, Roman ignored the question, and instead commented, “Janus got accepted.”

“What the fuck.”

Roman observed Virgil’s stricken expression like an unsettling kind of mirror of himself when—

My name is Janus.

“Yeah,” Roman sighed, “I didn’t take it so well either.”

Virgil looked at him for a long moment, seeming to go through several series of emotions, before he was able to ask, “...What happened?”

Roman inhaled sharply. “I was wrong about being wrong about the wedding. Patton was also wrong; Janus was right, and then Patton was right because he wasn’t a total asshole to Janus, and I’m evil; Thomas hates me; whatever, you get it.”

He thought he would break down, saying it, but he felt oddly… fine. He sat, staring at the same spot as he was before, absentmindedly annoyed at the way his bandages itched. The normalcy of the situation almost made it worse. This sucked. This wasn’t even bad.This was the worst he had ever felt.

“Oook,” Virgil said, clearly not knowing where to start, “I—you—what do you mean: Thomas hates you?”

“Thought that one was self-explanatory.”

“He can’t hate you,” Virgil said with a laughable amount of conviction. “You’re still his… y’know.. goals. Desires. Hopes. Whatever. Just because this one didn’t go… perfectly, doesn’t mean you won’t keep—“ he struggled to find the phrasing for a moment— “...fighting, uh, valiantly for Thomas’s dreams!” he attempted at the encouragement with a weak smile.

Roman just shook his head. “No. I don’t know what he wants.”

Virgil’s smile dropped into confusion. “But… you are his wants.”

“That’s kind of the problem.”

Virgil seemed at a loss, and Roman felt like an asshole. Here he was trying to help him, and Roman couldn’t even be bothered to put on a smile to dismiss him from the duty.

“Please go,” Roman attempted weakly when he couldn’t find a more convincing argument in himself. He was meant to be an actor, but he knew he couldn’t hide the fact that he wanted him to stay, of course he did, so badly. He hoped Virgil would just quit with the chivalry and go despite that.

Virgil sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shit, I'm going about this all wrong.”

Roman knew it probably wasn’t really him Virgil was mad at, but it was hard not to shrink away anyway.

“Look, Roman—“ Virgil turned to him, looked at him seriously, took his hands in his— “To be honest? I don’t care what happened. I don’t care who was right or wrong—I mean, we all know I’ve been in the wrong more than my fair share. It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Roman didn’t miss the ambiguity of the end statement. “But… look, you don’t get it. When you mess up, you’re still you. You’re still...,” Roman gestured vaguely, which upset his bandages, and when he looked down at himself, he took note of the black/purple hoodie he was wearing. He melted slightly. This was exactly the point he was trying to make, “You’re still... y’know. Important.”

“Wh—? Of course you’re important, Ro. You’re creativity—“

“Thomas has two of those.”

Virgil looked at him like he was stupid. “Right, as if you’re anything like Remus.”

Roman’s lip quivered at that, and he had to look away, which was so stupid. And suddenly he felt all of the embarrassment at once—of this situation, of everything that had happened before, of the way he was about to cry, in front of Virgil, after he said that, which must look so—

“Roman?”

A hand was on his cheek, softly turning his face towards Virgil’s, though Roman still refused to meet his eyes.

Virgil cursed to himself under his breath. “Shit, this is exactly what I was trying not to say.” He sighed, and Roman hesitantly looked up at him. “Look. Even if you weren’t creativity, if you weren’t hopes or dreams or any of it—if you were a completely pointless side, which you aren’t, but if you were—I wouldn’t care. What I care about is that you’re... Roman. That you bother me until I sing Disney with you, that when you put your heart into something, you do it to a stupid amount, that you make Thomas take trashy buzzfeed soulmate quizzes when he’s stressed, and that you fucking try so hard for everything, even when I’m being a little bitch about it,” he paused. With the hand on Roman’s cheek, he traced the line of a scar down his jaw. It was one of the ones Roman usually made sure to put an illusion over, he noted offhandedly. “I care, because you’re my best friend.”

“Don’t say that,” Roman choked out. He couldn’t handle it if it was a lie, and part of him couldn’t manage hearing it as anything but exactly that. “Just—just—“

“Oh, Princey..”

Virgil held him as he broke. Roman didn’t know how long they sat like that as he let everything wash over him for a final time, let it all truly sink in at long last. He took heaving, messy sobs, no doubt ruining Virgil’s shirt in the process—he was quiet, though. He shook silently, save a couple choked breaths, in the other’s arms--that was a habit he had taught himself long ago.

When Roman had tired himself out, when all that was left was the pain in chest, (which was also suddenly duller—he was healing fast, even for a side—) he pulled back from the embrace. Virgil didn’t move by much, kept them so their fingers were laced together, as they sat staring at each other.

“Uhm. Thanks,” Roman gave a shaky smile, “You really—uh... I... I said some stupid stuff, huh?”

Virgil hesitated before he spoke, as if he knew he shouldn’t ask this right now, but needed to anyway. “...Roman, why’d you go to the Imagination?”

Roman felt ice stab at his chest upon the question. He didn’t want to do this. They had already talked about so much that he shouldn’t have gotten into; this was meant to be the part where they either parted or watched a stupid movie. And this, out of everything, was the conversation he most needed to avoid.

“Uh—I mean, to let off steam?” Roman gave a laugh as best he could. “Obviously, it didn’t go to plan—“

“Didn’t it?”

Roman’s face fell immediately. He struggled to come up with an answer, and even if he had had one, he didn’t think the sound would come out. This was enough of an answer in itself

“Shit,” Virgil breathed. Roman couldn’t help but be mildly annoyed by his surprise—clearly he had already known, he didn’t have to make it a big deal now.

“I… Princey—Roman…” Virgil looked him up and down, and Roman wanted to curl up and hide. “...how many times?”

“Not many,” Roman mumbled. Virgil must have known he was pushing the subject too far, because he just frowned and said,

“OK. I mean...it’s not OK, obviously, but you already know that, I just—“ he sighed. “Just… can you talk to me? Instead? Please? When you feel like… that.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Roman responded hastily, wanting an out from this topic.

Virgil gave him a look. “I’m serious. I mean—look, you don’t even have to talk about it if you don’t want. Just, come to me first, yeah?”

Roman’s face burned; he was embarrassed; he wanted to shrug this whole thing off, or roll his eyes, or maybe scream in annoyance. But the rational part of him knew Virgil was right. “OK,” he agreed softly, “...Thanks. For everything.”

Virgil looked surprised, and then flustered, and then waved off the earnest reply. “I mean, it wasn’t--I didn’t--it’s not like I did anything really--”

“You did.”

Virgil’s face softened. “Yeah, well... you’d’ve done the same for me. You... have done the same for me.”

Roman smiled gently at him. “By the way, Virge--” He hesitated. He was about to sound like a real dumbass if Virgil had only been saying this stuff for comfort’s sake. But making a fool of himself was becoming a theme for him anyway, so he continued, “You’re my best friend too.”

I love you.

In the same beats Roman thought it, Virgil squeezed his hand lightly 3 times. A breath passed between them. An understanding. That Roman couldn’t say it out loud, and Virgil wouldn’t.

Instead, Virgil fell back across the bed, bringing Roman with him in the motion. Roman let out a startled gasp and elbowed him lightly. “Hey! I’m injured, that could have been a fatal impact for me!” he whined.

Virgil snorted. “Yeah, yeah, OK. So, do you wanna watch a stupid movie, or what?”

#lucy.fic #romangst #roman sanders angst #roman hurt/comfort #prinxiety #platonic prinxiety #ts roman #ts virgil #everyone ik reading the title of this fic: ohhh my god we know u like penelope scott we know #‘we know u associate this song w roman we KNOW</3’ #roman sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #also standard statement that im not a writer i just write sometimes pls do not. judge thishehusgs

[obae-me]

Recently found your blog and I absolutely love your writing!! Could I request head cannons of the brothers reacting to an MC who suddenly cries in front of them but is over it in a minute and acts as if nothing happened?

Thank you for your request, and I’m so flattered you like my writing! 

So...I’ll admit got a little carried away with Lucifer’s part, and I always do my best to try to make each brother’s part of somewhat equal length, but if I did that...there would be about 21 pages of words in one post, so, to make it easier for me to post and everyone to read, I will be doing your request in parts. I hope that’s okay! 

Part 2 (Mammon)      Part 3 (Levi)

The Demons Inside- Part 1

Word Count: 2070

He had requested MC’s presence in his study while he finished up his work for the night. The day had been particularly tedious, and while he wouldn’t mention it offhand, their presence calmed him and motivated him to always be at the peak of his performance. 

MC happily came down to give him some support, a sweet smile on their face, dressed up in comfortable clothes, ready for bed. Their eyes were bright as they talked about their day and gave him praise as well as compliments to drive him towards his lofty goal. He took them gladly, although he wouldn’t say it. But despite the attention, these last few worksheets and reports were giving him a migraine. So, he kindly asked if MC could bring him one of his special bottles of Demonus. 

MC didn’t quite approve of him drinking to help his problems, but he tended to be aware of how much he was taking. As long as he was responsible--which he always was--MC didn’t mind. They got up from their chair, one of the luxurious red ones in the middle of the room. They chose the seat closest to where Lucifer’s desk was, but they didn’t dare move it any closer, he liked to have everything neatly in its place after all. Like his furniture, all his bottles and glasses were neatly organized, each one sleek and pristine, much like the demon himself. 

“Which one would you like?” They asked him, scouring the many labels, many of them written in a language MC couldn’t even begin to identify. 

Lucifer sat hunched over his desk, so focused on his report that he almost missed MC’s query. “Whatever catches your eye, I’m not going to be picky about it tonight.” He bit his lip and almost cursed as he made a small mistake on his report. He questioned why he always wrote in pen, fixing mistakes in ink was such a hassle. “But make it quick,” he grumbled. 

He wasn’t ready for the sound of shattering glass, almost jumping in his seat. He immediately straightened, his instinct ready to yell and scold whoever dared to be so careless. The name ‘Mammon’ almost formed on his lips, but then he affixed his gaze to his invited company. MC had accidentally lost their grip on the bottle, shards and alcohol scattered on the floor. One look at their face showed silent tears flowing down their cheeks, unable to peel their eyes away from the ground where the mess pooled around their feet. 

He had never really seen them cry before, they had always kept their guard up, refusing to show signs of vulnerability. He had thought it was an endearing trait, one he often had himself. So, having them cry before him now filled him with panic. He was worried their sudden emotion was due to the fact that they were hurt. After all, they weren’t wearing any shoes at this hour, what if they had been pierced with the glass? 

He rushed to his feet, sweeping them up into his arms, placing them in a chair away from the hazard. Tears still fell from their eyes, and now MC covered up their face with their hands to cover their small sobs. He got on one knee and quickly checked their feet and legs for any signs of cuts, not having the heart tonight to tell them how klutzy they were. 

There were no apparent signs of injury, and he allowed himself a moment to breathe in relief. When he looked back up at MC, ready to comfort and calm them, they now appeared fine. Their eyes were dry, albeit a bit red, and they gently shooed Lucifer away from their body. 

“I’m so so sorry, it was a complete accident.” MC refused to look into his eyes. 

He got back onto his own two feet, lips pursed together in a thin line of worry. He was aware it was an accident, but for the life of him, he didn’t know why MC would cry over something like that. Perhaps, they were scared of getting yelled by him? Or was there something deeper, the accident causing their emotional wall to crack poetically alongside the glass bottle. He opened his mouth to address the issue, but barely managed to let a syllable out before MC interrupted him. 

“I’ll go get something to clean it up,” they assured him, preparing to make a run for it. He hesitated for a moment too long, his mind running on fumes from being overworked. His reactions dulled, distracted by the lingering pain in his chest as the image of MC’s tears refused to leave his eyes. By the time he called out their name, they were already gone. 

He sighed, almost falling into the chair he had placed MC in, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “This human…” He sighed. He tilted his head back, his eyelids shutting. The heaviness of them refused to open back up till he heard the sound of glass pieces clinking together as they collided and scraped across his polished floor. 

He raised himself out of his seat, his body groaning, gravity working against him as his very being ached to continue resting. But he couldn’t just idly stand by as MC swept up the glass by themselves. He only needed to take a few long steps over to them, grabbing the broom handle with one hand. It wouldn’t budge in his tight grip. 

“MC, allow me, with all the glass around I fear for your safety. You forgot to bring proper footwear.” Both he and MC glanced down at their bare feet. MC worked on tugging the broom back to their possession. 

“No- I mean thank you, but, it’s my mess, I need to clean it up regardless.” 

“MC-” 

“Please!” Their loud tone stunned him. It was a plea of desperation, their voice cracking. His hold on the item loosened, and they tore the broom away from him without giving him the opportunity to fully let go. They immediately went back to work, brushing shards across the floor as they glinted, the light from the fireplace shining off of them. He was again reminded of their shimmering tears, but the expression of budding despair had left MC’s face a while ago. Now they just appeared as exhausted as he was. 

“Very well…” He couldn’t afford to spend the last of his energy pushing them any longer. Sitting back behind his desk, Lucifer forced himself to finish the last of his work. More often than not, he kept looking back up at MC. Their eyelids were low over their eyes as they focused on clearing away the mess. Never once did they look back at him. Their usual smiling mouth now waned. He watched them sweep away the big chunks of glass into a pan, pulling out a clean rag as they got to their hands and knees to wipe away the excess liquid. “MC?” The sound of his own voice almost sounded distant to him. 

“Hm?” They hummed, turning more in his direction but keeping their gaze from him. 

“Has anything been bothering you as of late?” He rested his chin in his hand as he leaned forward, his arm crooked on the surface of his desk. They turned their head away from him, resuming the cleaning. Their nose crinkled a little as the strong scent of his Demonus filled their nose. 

“No, I’ve been fine.” 

“And the crying earlier?” He found himself asking, unable to ease his own worries. “Are you sure you’re unharmed?” He found MC staring at the soaked rag, losing themselves in the sight of it. But it wasn’t the fabric they were paying attention to. 

“It was nothing.”  They had said it so quietly, he almost didn’t hear their answer. Lying always rubbed him the wrong way, it always insulted him. Yet, this lie didn’t quite seem to be directed towards him, he was getting the impression that they were mostly trying to lie to themselves. As if to further encourage this idea of his, MC repeated themselves. “It was nothing…” 

Lucifer examined the last of his work. There was still a bit left to finish, and he couldn’t remember the last time he brushed off his duties, no matter how minimal. Tonight, just for tonight, he thought. Maybe it would be alright. The papers on his desk he put aside, at the same time MC disposed of the trash, the floor as pristine as it had been a few moments before. 

“It is one of my duties as a member of the student council to make sure your needs are met.” He wasn’t wrong, this was true. It was a known job of everyone looking after MC to make sure their stay was as comfortable as possible. It would reflect positively towards the program. MC had heard the line before, and while he truly meant it, the words almost sounded empty to their ears. Lucifer had to swallow some of his pride, it tasted like his own personal poison. “So, you can talk to me about anything. I am...here for you.” 

For the first time since they descended down here, Lucifer finally got a glimpse of their protective walls falling completely. Their eyes threatened to start crying again, but Lucifer saw as their throat strained to push it back. 

“That’s part of the problem,” they croaked. 

He blinked in confusion, caught off guard by the answer. “P-pardon?” He was unaware his support and protection could be undesirable. 

“You and everyone else is always there for me, always strong, always helping me. And-” Their voice broke again as a single tear broke free from the struggle and rolled down their cheek. They only blinked once and he was right in front of them. The papers on his desk rustled and fluttered from the speed of his movement. His hand raised from his side for a second only to lower in disappointment as MC brushed their own tear away. “And I hate being a--being a burden. A weak and powerless human.” 

His mouth parted, open in mild shock as he processed slowly the words they were telling him. “MC…” 

“How...how am I supposed to make you proud when I can’t even hold a bottle correctly?” With the last words, the dam conjured of pure will that had been holding the river of tears at bay, broke, and once more they were crying in front of him. 

No more hesitation, no more prideful priorities, he held MC’s face with both hands, guiding them close to his body as he gave them a hug. They felt so small in his arms. He almost let out a laugh, but kept it to just a puff in his chest. He had no idea that the reason why they were so flustered was because their pride was wounded. He should’ve been one to know. He would’ve been upset too were he to be in their shoes. 

He found himself stroking their head, enveloping them in his embrace as he looked absentmindedly at the clean spot where all this had started in the first place. How much longer would MC have kept this from him had they not accidentally lost their grip? How much longer would he have unknowingly put pressure on their shoulders? 

“I am proud,” he told them, and MC’s shuddering shoulders started to halt. “Proud of your strength. Proud of your patience to deal with my...eccentric siblings. Proud of your stubbornness...even if it does sometimes drive me mad.” He swore he almost felt them laugh against his body, it brought a small smile to his face that he was thankful MC couldn't see. “You are not a burden,” he assured them sternly. “There are things that, even without magic, you’ve been able to accomplish where no other living being has.” He took them by the shoulders and moved them back so he could look at their face. “Be prideful of the things you’ve done, of the person you are. And if you cannot…” He lifted their chin with one hand, and then pressed his lips to their forehead. His lips were warm, almost even warmer than the words that spilled from them. It left MC’s mind fluttering. They couldn’t remember why they thought he was ever so cold. He parted from them, but the touch from his lips still felt like it lingered. “At least know I forever will be.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x mc

[tofeartheunknown]

Back to December

Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Request by @caritobbg

Not edited.

I only made the call because I had no other choice. I was relieved to hear Sam's voice on the other end of the line. After all, it's been three years since I've spoken to either of the Winchester boys.

"Hello?" Sam's groggy voice caused an involuntary smile.

"Hey, Sam. It's Y/N." I heard shuffling and assumed, along with the groggy greeting, I woke him up. "Sorry for calling at..." I looked at the alarm clock, "four in the morning. Oh God, sorry, I should call back later." I apologized. I lost track of time after midnight.

"No, no. It's really great to hear from you." I could hear the surprise in his voice. "What- ah, what's going on? Is everything alright?"

I cannot deny that I've missed the brothers. In particular, the one I wanted to avoid calling at all costs. I'm not sure I could have had this conversation with him, if he would have answered the phone, that it.

"Everything's fine. Well, not completely. Listen, I'm in Denver, and there's a Demon in town. I've been here for two weeks and I can't seem to catch him. Bodies keep dropping. I've narrowed down his hunting ground, but I think I need some help here." I bit my lip, awaiting his response. I mean, come on. I was with them for five years before leaving, no phone call, text, email, or letter, then all of a sudden call and ask for help.

"Why didn't you call Dean?" Seriously? That's his response. I couldn't stop the sigh that escaped.

"You know why. Besides, he probably wouldn't pick up the phone." His grunt told me he agreed.

"Alright, tell you what. Text me what motel your staying at and I'll talk to Dean." He sounds more awake now. I hear water running and assume he's making coffee.

I couldn't hold back my shock. "Really?! That's great, thank you!" I stood from the small couch.

Sam let out a small laugh. "Yeah, no problem. We'll be there tomorrow."

"See you then." I hung up after that, hoping to finally get some sleep.

I remember that night as if it just happened. Sam, Dean, and I just finished a hunt the night before. Dean and I decided to celebrate by getting a motel room for just the two of us. Sam understood out need to be alone and assured us he would be fine by himself for the night.

"This is amazing." I mumbled, cuddling closer to Dean on the motel bed. Porky's, Dean and, coincidentally my, favorite movie was playing on the TV.

"Yeah, we haven't had time for this in months." Dean agreed, his hand rubbing my arm that laid across his torso. "Too bad we have to pack up tomorrow."

This was news to me. I didn't think there was already another case. I hoped to spend at least a few more days like this with Dean.

I sat up at looked at him "Why so soon? We just finished here." He didn't seem to notice my disappointment.

"Well, Babe, monster don't take days off." Dean said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You know that. You grew up in this life, just like Sam and me."

My disappointment turned to anger. "Dean, you said it yourself, we haven't had any time to ourselves in months. We can afford to take some time off and relaxe." I stood from the bed, my tank top and jeans lay beside my feet.

"No, we really can't." Dean's raised his voice, not enough to disturbed the rooms next to us, but enough for me to realize an argument is starting.

"Five years, Dean. That's how long we've been together, and nothing's changed! It's the same thing year after year! Is this all I'm gonna get?" I was fuming. He doesn't understand that I want more than he seems to want out of our relationship.

This isn't the first time we've had this argument. But this is the first time I lay it all out.

"What are you talking about?!" Dean asked, now sitting at the edge of the bed.

"I mean, it was fun for a while. Hunting all the time together. But that's all it is now! Sure we get these little nights, but... I need more." It's the first time I've admitted to him. "Let's be honest here, we're falling apart, Dean."

Dean scoffed, clearly oblivious to the issues we've had recently. We've drifted apart, mostly due to the fact that we haven't been on the same page in a while.

"So, what? You wanna get married now?" He asked, his arms spread and an eyebrow raised. It was my turn to scoff while pulling on my jeans.

"No, smartass! I want an actual relationship with you!" I shout, pulling my tank top over my head. I sat on the edge of the bed and shoved my shows on, not bothering with socks or tying them. I was far to upset to care.

"What do you think we've been doing all this time?!" Dean yelled, putting his jeans on, knowing I'm about to leave. " What do you want from me? I got you flowers, got us a room, and took you to dinner? I don't know what else to do!" He sounded utterly desperate for answers, watching me pack my duffle bag.

"I want to feel like I'm not the only one holding us together!" I spun around as I yelled. "It's always one hunt after the other with you! I get that it's what we do, but I can't do just that anymore!" I felt the tears fall before I felt the stinging in my eyes.

Dean followed me out the door, my bag on my shoulder. I didn't even notice Sam step out from him room next to ours.

"Where are you going?" Dean's voice was slightly panicked, our fights have never gone this far before.

"Anywhere but here." I turned back to him. His glossy eyes almost too much to handle. "I love you, but I can't live this life with you anymore. I need more than this, but it seems like you don't. I'm sorry..."

Dean, shaking his head, let his tears fall freely. "Don't do this, Y/N, please." He whispered. His hand came up to cup my cheek. I grabbed it and moved away.

"Goodbye, Dean."

I never spoke to or saw either brother after that night. Walking away has been my biggest regret. But, now I have to get ready to meet them at a diner in town.

The butterflies in my stomach are raging as I parked a few spaced down from the all too familiar impala and the two bodies leaning against it. It's now or never, and though never sounds like a much better choice, I know this has to happen.

I stepped out of my car and pulled my bag over my shoulder. Sam, unsurprisingly, was the first to greet me, walking up with a large smile. Dean wouldn't look up from the ground, knowing it was me. I can't blame him, I could hardly look at him myself.

"Y/N." Sam opened his arms, a bit hesitant, not really knowing where we stood. But I walked right into his arms fully returning this much needed hug. I really did miss this. Sam was like a brother to me, and it hurt walking away from him too. "It's good to see you." He said, pulling away.

"It's good to see you too." I smiled up at him before looking over at Dean. I do my best to control my breathing, ignoring the tightening in my chest. "Both of you." I finished, hoping the green eyes would finally catch mine. Unfortunately, it was a false hope.

"We should get inside" Dean grumbled, then he began making his way to the diner entrance. I frown, pushing against the moisture threatening to gloss over my eyes.

A hand landing on the middle of my back, I looked over to Sam who gave me a sympathetic smile. "Give him time, trust me." He assured me, guiding me through the doors Dean went through.

"The Lexicon bar" I handed Sam my notes while we waited for our food. Dean still hasn't said a word to me, and even though I expected nothing more from him, it still feels like a dumbell is sitting on my chest. Dean glanced over the papers as well, so at least he's taking this seriously. That hasn't seemed to change.

Sam handed the papers back and I slid them in my bag. "OK, so what's the plan?" He asked, shooting the waiter a short nod and thanks when he sat our food in front of us. He picked up his veggie burger, while I picked at a few of my fries and Dean didn't even touch his. If this was under any other circumstance I would be shocked.

"I was thinking I play bait." Sam opened his mouth to object, but I quickly continued speaking. "You two can keep watch and catch us as we leave. All victims were found in the back ally. All female, no specific type. All victims participated in the bars open mic, starting from ten p.m. to one a.m.. I'll go one tonight while you stake out the crowd."

"How are you sure he'll choose you?" It is the first time Dean has actually acknowledged me since they got here. My palms begin to sweat any throat grew dry. I took a gulp of my drink.

"Well I don't exactly, but I do know how I could appeal to him more." I picked at my food more, avoiding eye contact.

Sam and Dean glaced at each other. "After we finish we'll go to the motel and start preping." Sam said before biting into his burger, starting off a very awkward lunch.

"There's not a day that goes by where I don't think about Dean. I messed up. I walked away and it's the biggest mistake I have ever made. Now, seeing him, it brings everything back. I never stopped loving him, and I honestly believe that I will love him for the rest of my life. After the hunt, do you think you can take my room tonight. I need to get him alone, I need to apologize. I need to at least try to get him back. I don't want him to leave without knowing how I feel." I explained to Sam as we waited for Dean to gather the rest of what we needed for the hunt. I'm wearing a knee length (color) dress, my Demon knife strapped in it holster on my thigh.

"He hasn't been the same since you left." Sam started. "You thought he was obsessed before, he's constantly seeking out hunts now." Sam sighed, leaning against Baby's passenger seat. "He won't admit it, but these three years have been absolute he'll for him. I hear him say you name in his sleep at night." He looked at the open motel room door, watching Dean assemble his gun with devil's trap bullets, just in case. "He'd still go to the ends of the earth for you." Sam has absolutely no idea how much that crushes me, but also gives me hope that Dean will hear me out.

I wiped a fallen tear from my cheek just as Dean walked out, closing the door behind him. I've noticed the looks he's given me since I've changed clothes. "Let's get this over with." Dean mumbled while taking off his jacket. He handed it to me, knowing I was getting cold in the fall weather. I stared at it on my hands for a few seconds before pulling it on. Sam was right, he does still care. Before I could thank him he was already in the car. I got in after Sam, who shot me a knowing smile. Dean started the engine and we were on our way to the Lexicon.

Once we stepped inside our plan went into motion. I gave Dean his jacket back and made my way to the open mic sign-in sheet. There was only one other person on the list so far. I put down an alias and the name of the song I was going to perform. I've been thinking about it since we got to the motel earlier. I Taylor Swift's back to December came on the alarm clock radio as I got ready in my room. I realized how insanely similar out situation is to the song lyrics and decided it would be best to portray my feelings to Dean disguised in a song. It felt like it would be easier.

Once I got back to the boys we begin to briefly go over the plan. "Okay, Dean, when open mic starts keep an eye out for anyone talking to the participants after they sing. I'm second on the list." I explained. "Sam your on stand by at the front of the alley way out front. Dean or I will send a text when it's go time." I finished, taking a drink of the water Dean bought me, remembering that I don't like drinking on the job.

"Good luck." Sam advised, patting me on the shoulder before walking out of the bar.

"So, how are you so sure the demon will target you- and why can't we just let wait to see if he walks out to the ally with some else? Dean implored, he seemed concerned cause hope to swell some more in my chest.

"Every victim sang a heart break song of some sort." I answered, avoiding eye contact. Silence falls between us for what feels like forever, although it was about a minute. "Look, can we talk after-" Dean cut me off.

"We probably should be seen talking. It needs to look like you're here alone." Dean proceeded to take a sip of his beer before nodding over to the bar. "I'll be keeping watch at the bar." He stated, turning away and leaving me to watch him walk away. The same thing I did to him three years ago.

"Next up we have Diana Troy." The bar owner announced into the mic, holding out hit hand and helping me onto the right five by seven foot stage. I've spoken to him many times using this alias for the investigation. However, I'm not surprised he doesn't remember me he tends to take his ownership of the bar for granted most nights.

I muttered out a small "thank you," before adjusting the mic stand a bit. I tried not to think of the seventy or so eyes on me as the music started.

"I'm so glad you made time to see me

How's life? Tell me, how's your family?

I haven't seen them in a while

You've been good, busier than ever

We small talk, work and the weather

Your guard is up and I know why"

I see that night replaying in my head exactly how it has almost every night since I left.

"Because the last time you saw me

Is still burned in the back of your mind

You gave me roses and I left them there to die"

I could feel Dean's eyes without even looking for them. When mine found his the power of the chorus hit me hard.

"So this is me swallowin' my pride

Standin' in front of you sayin' I'm sorry for that night

And I go back to December all the time

It turns out freedom ain't nothin' but missin' you

Wishin' I'd realized what I had when you were mine

I'd go back to December, turn around and make it alright

I go back to December all the time."

My eyes never left him until the song ended. I didn't even know I was crying until a tear fell onto my arm. As people clapped I made my way off stage and to the bar. As I was almost to the bar, some one grabbed my arm and spun me towards them. Bingo. We found out guy. Or, rather, out guy found me. Though there is no proof that he is the demon, I just knew it had to be him.

He wore a white dress shirt and black pants, his eye hung a bit loose on his neck. He looked like a working man, and had trusting, kind blue eyes. His short black hair slicked back with a little gel. He had olive skin and a lean figure. He looked harmless. It took restraint for me to not pull my knife on him now. I have to wait to get him outside.

"That was absolutely beautiful." He praised, his hand still on my arm. I sniffled, wiping away the remaining tears.

"Th-thank you." I mumbled, itching to remove his hand.

"My name's Gerard. What's your story?" The Demon asks with a charming smile. My brows furrowed at that.

"What do you mean?" I thought for a moment and decided to guess before he has time to answer. "With the song?"

'Gerard' nodded, leaning against the bar. "I don't mean to pry, but you seem really upset. I can only assume the sing meant something to you." He explained, finally removing his hand from my skin.

"I-uh..." I looked at the floor indecisive of what answer to give him. I could lie and make something up, or I could just tell him the truth. It's not like I'll see him again after tonight, so what harm could it do. "I messed up. A while ago. I left the one person I loved most in my life during a stupid argument." I took a shaky breath. "I don't think I can ever find someone who made me feel as alive as he did." I knew Dean could hear every word I said. He's standing a few feet behind us and it's not like this is a whispered conversation. I need to talk to him, so I need to speed this up. "I should just go." I moved past 'Gerard' only for him to grab my hand.

"Let me at least walk you to your car." His insisted in an innocent, concerned voice. "You never know who could be out there waiting for a vulnerable women to walk past them all alone. There are some real monsters out there" He pushed, the irony gave me chills. I nodded, letting him lead me towards the side exit. I stuck to my naive role and let his guide me without protest.

As soon as the door shut behind us, I was pushed against a wall and 'Gerard's' eyes went black. "Do I look stupid?" He glared at me. I just shrugged the best I could.

"Do you really want me to answer that?" I question with a raised brow. I didn't try to reach for my demon blade yet. I'm just waiting for the distraction.

The Demon put his hand up and made a fist. My throat tightened and my oxygen is cut off. I quickly brought my hands up to my throat, because that's what people do when they can't breath, even though it does absolutely nothing to help. I was beginning to panic until I heard someone yell.

"Let her go!" I was Dean's voice. I looked aver the the demon did and felt relief as oxygen began pouring back into my lungs. Dean's gun pointed towards the demon distracted him enough to let me go.

"Now, it that anyway to treat a lady?" Sam asks, standing next to Dean with his arms folded. I slowly pull the knife from my thigh holster and creep up behind the demon.

"Oh, so it's three humans against one demon I'm so-" I plunge the knife through his back watching it slice through to the other side. He lit up like a Christmas tree for second before going limp. I pulled the knife out and watched him fall onto his side. I quickly rolled him over and opened his shirt. There are four bullet holes in his chest surrounding the stab wound.

"How did you know?" Dean asks from above me. I look up to see him and Sam standing there and looking at the corpse.

"I had a feeling." I mumbled, I've learned to trust my guy over the many years of hunting; I tend to be right. "Let's clean this up." I muttered before helping Sam picked up the body and take it to Baby when Dean pulled up to the curb.

I slipped into the boys' room right after Sam left to get dinner. Dean glanced over, putting down the gun he was cleaning and standing from his chair. "Can we talk, please?" I stared down at the floor, my hands in my pockets.

"Did you mean it?" Dean's question caused me to look up. He must have seen the confusion in my eyes because before I could even respond he continued. "The song you chose. Did you choose it for me?"

I hesitated, swallowing the lump forming in my throat. "Yes. Just hear me out!" I was quick to stop any protests that may come out of his mouth. "I hate myself for walking out on you. It was the biggest mistake I've ever made. An-and if I could go back to that night I would have stayed. Since I left I haven't been sleeping well, I see you when I close my eyes and some night I still cry myself to sleep." I took a shaky breath, not caring to wipe my tears away.

Dean's eyes grew glossy with his own tears. "I wanted to hate you for leaving. But all I could do was hurt. People say it gets easier, but it never did for me. I've tought about you every day for three year, Y/N." His voice cracks and sobs break through my lips.

"I'm so sorry." I cried, covering my face with my hands. I was so distracted by my own pain that I couldn't here Dean making his way over to me. When I felt his arms wrap around my shoulders I just fell into him. I could tell he was crying by the way hid chest shook. I latched my arms around him tight. I never want to let go of him again.

We stood in each other's embrace for a while, feeling as thought we're the only thing keeping each other stable and upright. We we finally pulled apart we sat next to each other on the bed.

Things can't go back to the way they were, but at least now we can start picking up the pieces of one another, one day at a time. I'm never letting Dean Winchester go again.

Note- Not the best ending, I apologize , but I haven't written anything in forever, and this took me such a long time because of that.

#supernatural #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #supernatural one shot #spn imagine #spn #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #supernatural imagines #supernatural x reader

[inadaydream99]

Hi! I hope you're doing well! So I have a bit of a weird request. I was wondering if you could do like an Ateez reaction that their S/O is an animator, or an animation student. I'm sitting her animating for a class project and this popped into my head, so I'd love to see what you write! <3 Thank you!

A/N - Hey! Thanks for this request ☺️ That’s so cool that you do animation, sounds like such a fun class! I really hope you enjoy what I’ve come up with, I decided to go for more scenario based bullet points... also, I’m not the most knowledgeable on animation but I tried my best 😂

Their S/O as an animation student/ an animator

Hongjoong

Despite knowing that you are an animation student, Hongjoong hadn’t seen much of your work before

So when he lets himself into your place unannounced, to find you sat working on a project for that class, he’s a little shocked

He’s honestly not sure whether to approach you to let you know he’s here or just patiently wait until you decide to take a break?

But after watching you intently stare at your screen for a few moments he decides on the first, instantly moving up close behind your seat to gently place his hands on your shoulders

You jump a little, having not expected the sudden touch

But as soon as you turn your head to find Hongjoong you relax once again

“You almost gave me a heart attack!” You exasperatedly sigh, hand covering your racing heart

Hongjoong simply laughs in amusement

Once the shock has died down again you resume your work

“I had no idea you were so good at animation (Y/N).” Hongjoong mumbles next to your ear, leaning over the back of your chair as he watches you in complete amazement

You really have no idea how much it warms his heart to see that you are so creative (because he’s very creative himself)

“You’re too nice Joong.” You bashfully gush, shying away from him when he attempts to get you to face him properly for the first time that day

“I’m serious...” He beams, whispering as he cups his hand on your cheek, leaning his forehead against yours

Seonghwa

One thing that your boyfriend wasn’t aware of was that you spend a lot of time animating, it’s escapism for you and so when you are feeling stressed you like to shut yourself away and work on creating new characters

Seonghwa, usually being very busy himself, had never seen any of your work

But that’s mostly because you are shy... and he doesn’t know

That’s why you’re currently hiding you face in your hands, hot with embarrassment as Seonghwa stares at your work

“How did I never know you could do this?” He questions in amazement, his eyes drawn to one image in particular

It’s only small, but clear enough to know it’s of him - which only makes you more flustered

“It’s not good...” you sigh, finally uncovering you face to reach out and close your work

Seonghwa’s hand reaches out instantly, covering yours and stopping it from clicking on anything on your screen

“You’re kidding... it’s amazing.” His voice is a whisper now, his free hand under your chin to guide you to face him, just so he can convey how much he means every word.

Yunho

“Oh that’s so cute!” Yunho excitedly points out a cute little animation of two dogs cuddling into each other

He wasn’t meant to see that yet because it was something you’d been working on secretly for valentines

Being the ever excitable puppy Yunho is, you thought it would be cute to make a little animation for him to represent you both as your favourite animal

“Wait- why are you hiding it?” He pouts the second he realises you are trying to close your work down

“Because it’s not finished and I don’t want you seeing it.” You faintly chuckle

But Yunho isn’t having any of that, doing his best to persuade you to let him watch the ‘puppy love’ animation you’d made just one more time

And, of course, you comply because the elated smile on his face is worth it

Yeosang

“You did that?”

Yeosang is speechless as he watches your screen in amazement

You, on the other hand, can’t even look at him. Choosing to preoccupy yourself by playing with your fingers

“How come you never mentioned you could animate like that?” An amused smirk rests on his face as he approaches you, tucking his finger under your chin to direct your focus onto him

“I don’t know.” You swallow, your delicate voice barely reaching his ears from how lightly you speak

This only makes Yeosang more amused, however

He finds your shyness to be on another level of endearing and it makes his stomach flip

Deciding he wants you to come out of your shell more, and being the incredibly supporting boyfriend he is, he presses a little further in encouragement

“Can I see more of your work?”

San

For your final project, you had to animate a scene that was significant to you in some way

Which is honestly a lot more difficult than it sounds

You had chosen to recreate one of your most memorable dates with San; the time you sat out in the park, stargazing together

You have been working on adjusting the final movements of your characters laying in the grass, wanting each tiny detail to be absolutely perfect

“Is that us!” San whispers into your neck, pressing a light kiss as he smiles into your skin

You had no idea he was behind you, but now that you know you feel very self conscious

It’s obvious that you’ve drawn the two of you because of the bright pink hair you’d given the guy

“San~” you whine, face hiding in your hands as you feel yourself flush

You feel him snicker into you, his arms twisting tighter around your waist to pull you impossibly close

He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know he likes your work, his thumping heart can be heard out of his chest

And maybe that’s all you need to finally uncover your face and turn to him with a shy smile...

Mingi

“Why can’t I see?”

Mingi has been pouting at you, sending you the most adorable puppy eyes as he tries his absolute best to make you cave in

You see, he’d recently found out about your animations because you had ranted to him about how stressful you were finding the class

Except, you wouldn’t let him see any of your work because it wasn’t finished at the time

“Because...” you trail off, trying to come up with a decent response

“But you submitted it yesterday...” he continues to plea, and that’s when you finally sigh in defeat

Sometimes you swear Mingi’s more of a child than your boyfriend... although you can’t deny that it’s one of the things you love most about him

That and the fact he never takes himself too seriously, which you really wish you found easier to do yourself

You can’t face him as he takes a look through your most recent animations

But relief quickly takes over when you feel him pull you into a back hug, his arms encapsulating you in his warmth

His next words making your heart skip a beat from how sincere and heartfelt they are

“I promise you have nothing to be shy about when it comes to your work... you’ll definitely ace that class.”

Wooyoung

“You don’t keep secrets from me (Y/N).”

Wooyoung is frustrated at first, whiny and stroppy

But that melts away within seconds when you finally take his hand and tug him silently over to your work

A light “woah” emits from him as he takes in the short animation you’d been working on

You remain silent, your mouth dry from revealing something you’re quite proud of up to critique

Though you should know that Wooyoung would never

“This is why I’ve been ignoring you.” You finally speak up, meeting your boyfriends guilt stricken gaze over his earlier accusations

But the heavy air is cleared within a moment, pleased smiles adorning both of your faces as you take his hand in yours and interlace your fingers

“Can you teach me?”

Jongho

“I thought we told each other everything...”

Yep, all Jongho had to do was pout and you were guilt tripped into showing him your animations

You still aren’t sure how he even found out about you taking that class because it always fell at the same time as his practices

But, you aren’t entirely against him seeing a few

You watch nervously, bottom lip trapped by your teeth as you chew away in anticipation

“You never cease to amaze me.” He gently thumbs your bottom lip out of its trap, smiling at you warmly

You aren’t sure what to say, all coherent responses seemingly erased from your brain

But there’s no need anyway, because the way your eyes sparkle as you stare up at Jongho tells him everything he needs to know

It conveys your relief that he likes your work, as much as, the overwhelming affection you have towards him

And he can’t resist any longer, drawing your face up close to his as your eyes flutter shut

#ateez fluff #ateez requests #ateez oneshot #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez drabbles #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #kpop fluff #kpop requests #kpop reactions #kpop oneshots #kpop imagines #kpop drabbles #kpop x reader

[pitviperofdoom]

Obviously I can’t get through one fandom event without bringing Jongerry into it.

Aspec Archives Week Prompt: Confusion

(AO3)

Jon caught him in a kiss as they passed in the hallway, and these days that always meant trouble. Once upon a time, in the distant past of around last month, he’d been bashful about it. They both had—Gerry especially, after Jon had sat him down to explain a few things about his preferences. But that was last month, and that hurdle was well behind him. Now the question wasn’t finding the nerve to start; it was finding a reason to stop.

On a lazy Sunday morning like this, those reasons were few and far between.

They wound up on the couch, because it was closer, and that was the direction Jon had been heading, and Gerry was happy to let himself be steered. Kissing Jon was like that, now that they were both past being shy. Even with his mouth occupied, he never failed to let Gerry know exactly what he wanted and where he wanted him.

The backs of Jon’s knees hit the couch. Gerry broke the kiss for a moment, just to enjoy looming over him a bit. He liked this view of Jon—this close, staring nearly straight down while Jon tilted his head back and met his eyes.

Then he reached up, tugged Gerry back down, and kissed him again.

The noise Gerry made came out like it had been punched out of him, and he had to draw back just to catch his breath.

Jon’s hand was on his jaw, carefully tilting it so Gerry would look at him, which really wasn’t helping with—whatever was going on. His eyes were dark and serious, scrutinizing Gerry’s face as if inspecting him for an injury. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Gerry said, more hoarsely than he meant to. “Mm. I’m good.”

“You’re sure?” Jon pressed, frowning deeply enough to form a crease between his eyebrows. Gerry kissed it before he could think better of it. “Ah—”

“How about you?” Gerry asked, even as a small but very loud part of him screamed to kiss him again, to hold him close and never stop.

“Like I said,” Jon replied, his voice raspy but warm. “This part I like.”

Gerry grinned and let himself be pulled down to the couch cushions.

Jon wound up mostly under him, propped halfway up against pillows and armrest with Gerry hovering over him, tugged down by Jon’s hand at the back of his head. He kissed Gerry the way he always did, so gentle and unhurried, but with just enough insistence to make his heart race with an unfamiliar thrill.

Felt a bit dangerous, sometimes. And while Gerry was no stranger to it, it was different now, when he finally had something he wasn’t willing to risk.

Lots of things were different, with Jon. But different could be good, different could be new and exciting before it settled into a comfort, like hands in his hair sliding down to the back of his neck, like the teasing warmth of his mouth, like arms around him holding him close—

Then Jon turned his head, fingers digging firmly into the back of Gerry’s neck, and mouthed at the corner of his jaw with just a hint of gentle teeth. In an instant, Gerry went hot with want. His body moved before his brain caught up, canting his hips forward into Jon’s.

Beneath him, Jon startled and pulled back, and Gerry belatedly realized what he’d just done.

“Shit—” He shoved himself off of Jon, face heating—not desire this time, just mortification. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine—”

“I didn’t forget, I just—that’s never happened before—”

“Gerry I’m serious, it’s fine.”

“—and I don’t know where the fuck that came from,” Gerry went on, mouth running with nervous, frantic energy.

Jon was sitting up, pushing his hair back out of his face. “I think I have a pretty good idea.” His eyes flickered vaguely downward.

There wasn’t much he could do about that particular situation, so Gerry sat back and drew his knees up to his chest, breathing deep to slow his racing heart. All traces of warm excitement were gone, replaced by hot, prickling shame.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

Jon scooted closer and carefully took his hand. “It’s alright,” he said. “I mean it. No harm done—look, can you just sit properly? You look horribly uncomfortable.”

“Better me than you.”

“What do you mean by—oh, for God’s sake.” Jon sighed, infinitely patient and—fond? Maybe? “Gerry, I’m asexual, not a prude. I’m not going to faint at the sight of a clothed erection.”

Gerry choked on an unexpected laugh, then slid his feet down to sit in a more comfortable position, Mercifully, he was already softening.

“I’m—” He bit down on another apology.

Jon hadn’t let go of his hand yet. “If it makes you feel better, that’s probably the fastest anyone’s gotten off when I asked.” Gerry stared at him wordlessly. “I mean—don’t look at me like that, I meant literally—physically gotten off of me when—oh, you know what I mean!”

“Right, right.” Abruptly, the words sank in, and he went stiff with alarm. “Wait. Jon, does that mean—have other people…?”

“What—? Oh!” Jon’s eyes widened. “No. God, no—I’m sorry, that came out wrong. No one’s ever—right. What I meant was that, of the very few times I’ve been in this situation before, the other person was usually… I mean, they stopped when I asked, but I had to ask, and sometimes I got the feeling that they were… sort of reluctant? It made things extremely awkward, more often than not.”

“This isn’t awkward?” Gerry asked dryly.

“In comparison? Hardly at all.” Jon squeezed his hand. “And even if it were, I’ve had my share of awkwardness.”

Gerry squeezed back, finally starting to settle. “That so.”

“I’m going to regret telling you this, but my first kiss was an absolute disaster,” Jon informed him. “I went for the cheek, he went for the mouth.”

“Yikes,” Gerry said with a wince.

“Oh, but I haven’t told you the worst part,” Jon went on. “I turned my head away, and he went for the side of my neck—no, stop laughing—he latched on like he was a bloody vampire—”

He couldn’t help it. Gerry dissolved into laughter, ducking his head and muffling it behind his fist. At some point he looked up again to find that Jon had scooted closer in his distraction. He liked when Jon got sneaky.

But did he like it the right way, was the question.

“Alright?” Jon asked, tentatively brushing their shoulders together.

“Guess so,” he replied, with another long breath. “Better, at least. Could be loads worse.”

Jon was running the pad of his thumb over each of Gerry’s knuckles now, in slow, back-and-forth swipes. “You don’t sound very sure of that,” he said after a moment.

“Maybe not.” Gerry sat back, leaning his head on the back of the sofa. Jon continued to play with his hand, tracing the outline of each tattoo. It felt—nice. Not the dangerous sort of nice that he’d just now managed to dodge. Just comfortable. Fond. (Loving.)

“If you—” Jon began. He hesitated, pressing Gerry’s hand between his palms. “I’m not the best at this. But if it’s really bothering you, then I need you to know that you don’t—you don’t have to feel guilty about this, it’s not like you can—I don’t know, make yourself stop feeling… whatever it is you feel.” He paused again. “Anymore than I could make myself feel it at all.”

“That’s the problem, though,” Gerry admitted. “I shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, I just shouldn’t!” Frustration welled up in him, and he tugged his hand out of Jon’s grasp without thinking. “I never have before, but now I am and I don’t know why. I’ve lived my whole life without giving people a second glance, and it never crossed my mind because I just—I never had the space for it. Good thing, too; dunno what I would’ve done if I had to deal with that on top of everything else.”

“Right,” Jon said softly.

“And then I met you,” Gerry went on. “And we had that talk. And I thought, fuck, there’s a word for it, it’s just a thing and it’s fine, it’s not just me being—being not right. There’s a reason why I’ve never given anyone a second glance, not even you. At least—not at first.” His voice trailed off, words running dry. “I dunno. It’s just been different recently. I look at you and… and I think about things I never have before.”

“Me?” Jon stared at him incredulously. “You feel that way about me?”

“I know you don’t like that,” Gerry answered, trying not to sound as miserable as he felt.

Jon gave a quick shake of his head, though whether it was denial or just to clear his head, Gerry couldn’t tell. “No, that’s not—I just mean, why? Why on earth would you—me, of all people?”

“Because you’re hot, apparently. Can we not argue about that while I’m having a crisis?”

Jon shrank a little, looking ashamed. “Right. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Surprised me too, to be honest.” Gerry looked away. “Feels like—more like greed than lust, sometimes. Like the more I get of you, the more I want.”

At that, Jon sat up straight, and Gerry realized how that must have sounded.

“I’m not gonna ask you for any more,” he said quickly, cutting off whatever Jon was about to say. “We had that talk, and I listened, alright, and it’s been—it’s been good. Really good. I don’t need anything more, especially if you don’t want to.”

“I know,” Jon assured him.

“Oh.” He deflated a bit. “Good, then.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Jon asked.

“I’ve about spilled my guts already, but sure, maybe there’s a bit of spleen I missed,” Gerry said wearily.

“It’s a bit personal, but… have you ever been close to anyone before?” Jon asked. “Emotionally close? Friendships, anything like that?”

“No…? No.” Gerry shook his head. “Never had the chance. I don’t have that kind of life. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well… I mean, far be it from me to impose a label on you,” Jon said cautiously. “But from the way you describe it… it’s possible you might be demisexual?’

Gerry frowned. Another new word. Demi usually meant half or partial. “What’s that one mean? I only want it sometimes?”

“Sort of.” Jon had grabbed his phone off the side table and was scrolling through it. “It’s on the spectrum of asexuality. To my understanding, it’s when you only experience attraction when you’ve formed an emotional connection with someone.”

“That’s a thing?” Gerry leaned over his shoulder to see the screen. “Don’t tell me there’s an app for this.”

Jon laughed. “No, but there is a wiki—here it is. Demisexual. Have a look.”

Gerry took his phone and read through the definition, frowning in thought.

It certainly sounded like what the past month had been like. And it explained a few things—he’d been alone his whole life until Jon, and even with Jon he hadn’t wanted him at first sight. It had taken time. It had grown into it—as far as he could tell, it was still growing, still changing.

“Say you’re right,” he said at last, looking up from the phone screen to Jon’s face. “Say this is me. Where does that leave us?”

Jon shrugged. “Same place as usual, I hope,” he answered. “If… this doesn’t change anything for you?”

“Should it?”

“Maybe.” Jon shrugged again. “I don’t know. I’ve just found that it helps to have a word. Makes things simpler if you can at least name them.”

With a sigh, Gerry passed his phone back. “Would’ve been even simpler if I could just be like you, not feel this shit at all.”

Jon put the phone down. Then, turning so that he was fully facing Gerry, he took his face between his hands.

“You are,” he said, as his dark, serious eyes bored into Gerry’s. “You’re just a step to the left, that’s all. But you are like me.”

It was enough to rob him of speech for the better part of a minute. When he found his voice again, he leaned forward until his forehead was on Jon’s chest.

“See, you say things like that and then turn around and wonder why I think you’re attractive.”

Jon spluttered, even as his arms wrapped around Gerry’s shoulders and pulled him back down. They didn’t kiss again, just lay squashed together on the couch with Gerry sprawled on top, enjoying the warmth and closeness without feeling like he was scratching an itch that would never settle.

“Thanks,” he said, after the silence stretched long enough to circle back around to comfortable again.

“Whatever for?”

“Dunno.” Gerry pressed his face into the soft fabric of Jon’s shirt. “Glad you’re here. Glad you’re you.”

Jon gave a noncommittal hum, like he wasn’t sure whether to agree or how to answer. His fingers combed softly through Gerry’s hair, and after a moment Gerry let himself lean into the touch, Jon’s quiet amusement.

He was no stranger to wanting things, but—all he needed was this, right here.

It was more than he ever would have dared to hope for.

#AspecArchives #the magnus archives #jongerry #jonathan sims #gerard keay #tma fic #fanfiction #tales from the pit

[7nosecrinkle7]

49 and 58 with Natasha if u r willing please ❤️

49. “Not with that cold.”

58. “Was it worth being out in the snow/rain like that?”

***This is the first time I’ve written for Natasha. Thank you so much for your request and waiting; my apologies for this taking so long! I hope you enjoy it <3

———————————————————————-

Worth It

Natasha was known for being blunt, cold, and efficient. No personal attachments, no contact with anyone outside of the tower or the other Avengers. But with you, Natasha was sweet, kind, and always patient. You found that when she wanted to be, she was a very chivalrous person… Particularly with you.

She had planned tonight's date night. It was rare that you were both off and not training or recovering. After a candlelit dinner on the patio of this cute new restaurant, you both decided to take a detour through the park. It had been so pleasant the last few nights, so why not? The wrought iron light poles were lit up, creating a soft ambiance as you made your way along the cobblestone path. You weren't alone in the park. Several other couples had similar ideas, but your attention was fixed on the redhead next to you; the lights sparkled exceptionally bright in her eyes.

You had recently picked up the hobby of reading more on your breaks, and Natasha asked about the latest one. Your entwined hands swayed front and back as you walked.

"Honestly, it's better than the summary made it out to be. There's been so much character exploration in the first few chapters, and I'm excited to--" You cut off mid-sentence. It had been a series of beautiful evenings, so neither of you thought to check the weather. You felt a distinct drop of water hit the tip of your nose. You looked over at Natasha.

"Did you feel that?"

"Feel wh--?" Natasha asked and stopped short when she also felt a drop or two.

Of course, it started raining. It was just a drizzle first; One of those light summer sprinkles that was still warm. You shrugged and kept going, the both of you chuckling.

"I won't melt," Natasha said and kissed your cheek.

You smiled and gave her a peck on her lips. You then nudged Natasha's shoulder with your own, thinking it was kind of romantic. So you continued walking.

The pair of you made it about another ten feet of soft droplets until that drizzle got a little heavier and a lot colder.

You and Natasha took off at a run to the little shop at the park's end to buy an umbrella. Thankfully it was still open this late.

Natasha held the door open, and you stepped in out of the downpour. You shivered lightly as the air conditioning hit your wet skin.

The umbrellas were right by the door, so Natasha scooped one up and went right to the counter.

"Will that be all?" The store owner asked.

"Yes, please," Natasha handed over the cash for the umbrella. You could see Natasha was a bit chilled with the way she shuffled, waiting for the change, but you could help the noticeable shiver that shook your shoulders.

"Here," she said, taking off her leather jacket.

You waved it off, "no, Natasha, then you'll be cold."

"I can handle it," she shrugged and smirked, "I'm Russian, I'll be fine." You always loved wearing Natasha's jackets, and she loved seeing you in them.

When you stepped out of the shop, Natasha opened the umbrella. It was ever so slightly too small for the both of you to fit comfortably, but with Natasha's arm wrapped around you, you made it work. She definitely didn't tell you that she was still getting rained on thoroughly, though.

Natasha had a smile on her face that was mirrored on yours. The pair of you laughed your way back to the tower, cracking jokes with each other and really savoring the time together.

A quick, warm, shared shower later, and you were both asleep in Natasha's bed.

………...

You woke up and glanced over at the clock. It read 02:00AM, but you didn't need the digital numbers to tell you. It felt early. You looked around the room, not seeing any immediate threats. You never woke up in the middle of the night.

You figured it out quickly enough, though, when you heard the sounds of Natasha's light snoring. She never snored. Even in her sleep, the black widow did not make any unplanned noises.

A dry cough escaped her lips before she continued snoring, not waking up in the process. Her head was resting on your shoulder, her increasingly stuffy breaths puffing against your chest. She'd cuddled up against you at some point during the night, draping an arm over your stomach.

"Oh, Tasha," you whispered and rubbed circles on her back. You placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

You continued rubbing her back as you drifted off to sleep again.

…………

The second time you came into consciousness, you definitely knew what had awoken you. You felt another nudge into your side and a heavy sigh.

"Bless you," you said, voice thick with sleep.

Natasha sniffled beside you, "Sorry I woke you."

"No, don't worry about that. Are you okay?" You asked and brushed some hair away from Natasha's face.

Natasha groaned and rubbed at her nose, "I've been better." She sniffled; the congestion was unmistakable.

"Here, love," you said and reached over to grab the box of tissues.

Natasha swiped one from the box and buried her nose in it.

Huh hhnxxt…. Hih hngt-shoo!

"Bless you, Nat."

She blew her nose and sniffled a few times, "thanks…" Her hand came up to pinch the bridge of her nose. She sniffled again and let out a few light coughs.

Natasha took a deep breath and sighed before getting out of bed and moving towards the closet. You watched as she pulled out a pair of workout clothes.

"Um, Natasha? What are you doing?" She'd gone from cuddling to getting ready for the day while clearly verging-on-feeling-miserable. "We still have another couple of days off."

"Yeah, but I need a workout. I was going to go running. Want to join me?"

You blinked at her a couple times. Natasha very rarely got sick, not even an annual case of sniffles. She wasn't great at this whole 'being sick' thing. You got up and took both of her hands. Carefully, you backed up towards the couch in the living room.

"Not with that cold." You said and sat down on the couch, pulling Natasha with you.

"Uhm, love, what are you doing?" Natasha asked, swiping at her nose again. She looked genuinely confused.

"You're sick, so you're going to rest. I'll bring you tissues, tea, and we can just relax the day away. You got sick on our date trying to keep me out of the rain. So now I'm going to take care of you."

Natasha went to protest but stopped. "You know what? I'd love some cuddles and tea and tissues." As much as she would've loved to go for a run or get a good workout, she was feeling more congested by the minute. A run would've been murder on her sinuses, the pounding already becoming a bit overwhelming.

While you went to go make tea, Natasha was on her own mini-mission. If you were both going to spend the day on the couch, she wanted to make it comfortable. Natasha grabbed the extra blankets from the bedroom and both of your pillows. She grabbed one last thing before making it back to the living room.

Natasha got everything set up before getting herself situated. The moving around had already worn her out more than she would ever admit. The shifting had also upset her sinuses.

Not having tissues yet, Natasha buried her head into her elbow with a handful of desperate sneezes.

Huuhh hih eTTSHeew!... hihesSHew. AschHEww!

Natasha took a few quick sniffles, keeping her arm in place.

"You sound absolutely miserable," you sighed, coming back into the living room. You put your hand on Natasha's back as she blew her nose in the provided tissues. You couldn't help but feel a little guilty about the whole situation. You hung your head and shook it a little bit. "Was it worth it being out in the rain like that?" You wondered aloud and glanced over quickly before looking back at the tissues you'd just placed on the coffee table.

A warm hand grasped yours. You turned back towards your girlfriend only to be met with the most patient yet earnest look. "It absolutely was worth it. Any time spent with you is worth it no matter the situation."

You still looked unconvinced. Natasha gently tugged you toward her on the sofa until you were lying against her.

"What would make me feel better are some cuddles… And maybe this." Natasha pulled out the latest book you were reading from behind her on the couch. "You wanna read it to me?"

You smiled and sighed, "I'd love to."

#snzfic #sneezefic #7nosecrinkle7 #sneezing #snz #snzblr #sickfic #natasha romanoff/reader #natasha romanoff x reader #crinklewrites

[goddessofmischief]

Blue Monday, Chapter Six - Loki x T.V.A.! Reader

Chapter Six: Blood and Blade

...Asgard, some years ago...

“Amora!” teenage Thor shouted, tossing her a sword. “Train with me!”

She grinned, picking the weapon up and obliging, while teenage Loki glowered on the sidelines. He hated seeing them together, because he could always hear the whispers that accompanied it, even if there weren’t any.

They’re perfect...

He loves her...

She’ll be queen, someday...

Trying to breathe around the lump in his throat, he reacted, too distracted by his own pettiness to have care for anything else. And when he reached out his hand, the sword Amora was presently using to pin Thor to the ground transformed into a serpent.

“Ow!” she shouted, stepping away from it. “What?” asked Thor. “What, what’s wrong?” She shook her head.

“Nothing, it just... it bit me.”

Thor kicked the snake away, and she laughed, slightly, waving her hand over the bite on her arm and using magic to remove the venom.

“Are you alright?” he asked her, putting his arm around her shoulders. It was a brotherly action, Loki conceded. He saw that now. There hadn’t been anything between them, at all.

“Yes,” she said, smiling, slightly, her face trembling. “Yes, I’m fine.” Thor still looked confused as to what had happened, and Loki prayed that Amora wouldn't connect the dots, either - but she gave him a withering glance as she passed by, and he knew that she had.

He set down his book, following her to the wooded area where they sometimes went for walks.

“Amora!”

She didn’t turn around. “Amora, I didn’t mean it-”

She stopped in her tracks, and he caught up to her.

“You’re... crying,” said Loki, sort-of awkwardly.

Amora raised her blue sleeve to her face, drying her eyes, and she swallowed.

“I’m not.” “I saw you, love. You can’t lie to me. Thor, maybe, that wouldn't be so difficult-” “Fine. I was crying. I... I just...” Amora raised her face to look at him, and he felt frozen, made guilty by her red eyes. “We used to be... we used to be friends. Why d’you hate me?”

“I... don’t.”

Amora scoffed. collapsing on a tree stump.

“Then why do you send snakes after me? Or transform my sword, when I’m trying to train? Or... even little things, like using magic to tug my hair during ceremonies. Or avoid me. It seems like you’re always avoiding me.”

“...Yeah.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why, are you?” Loki sat down, cross-legged, next to her.

“Do you really want me to?” Amora nodded.

“...Yeah.”

He swallowed.

“It’s only because I love you,” he managed, fighting around the lump in his throat. “That’s... that’s why.” He took note of her confused expression, looking away. He was about to stand up again and walk away, but she reached over, grabbing his hand.

“...Why?”

“Because, you’re...” he struggled to find the right words. “You’re really... really... beautiful.” Amora looked hurt, almost. Disappointed.

“And... that’s it? That’s all there is?”

He tried, desperately, to think of what Thor would say. He’d know what to do.

“Well... what else is there?” If she looked hurt before, she was devastated now. Her hands crossed over her chest, and she turned, as if she was about to walk away.

It was at that moment that it really sunk in. She didn’t care what Thor would do.

She wanted to know what he would do.

“No,” Loki said, reaching out to her. “Truthfully, no. I didn’t mean that.”

“Tell me the truth, then.”

He gulped.

“I care for you because... because you’re the only person I’ve ever met who makes me feel not-so-lonely. I’m happier, with you. Different. You make me different.” She reached over, then, and kissed him, softly. “Don’t be too different, okay?” “Never,” he promised. “Let’s just... swear to stay the same, forever?” “Oh, I swear.”

Just then, he woke up.

...Alone.

...

It had been three days since the last mission.

You felt broken.

Loki had noticed.

You were upset with yourself, mostly. Upset that you couldn’t let it go - but even more upset that you’d let yourself become attached. You’d only known the female Loki for moments.

Even still... you were sure that you had loved her. You knew that.

“Agent?”

It was Mobius, standing in your doorway.

You cleared your throat.

“...Yes?”

Please don’t be a new mission, you thought, your heart pounding. Please, please-

"I think it’d be best if you underwent some training. Trained Odinson, as well.” You nodded, feeling relieved. “Of course,” you agreed, standing up and following him down the hallway.

Loki waited for you.

Of course.

You knew he felt guilty about how things had gone. Not that he regretted killing Lady Loki - he didn’t seem to. But he regretted your part in it.

And he still had his doubts that you could even tolerate him now that he was responsible for death of the woman you had fallen in love with.

So he’d kept his distance, for now.

“I’m here to train you, right?”

“Yes,” Loki said, “...But not only. Mobius has been made aware of the last mission’s... fate. He believes you should be trained with a weapon you could defend yourself with. From other supernatural beings, from... me.” “Alternate versions of you, you mean?” “Hopefully, yes. But you never know. People who liked me have tried to kill me before.”

“I never said I liked you, Odinson,” you said, teasing for the first time in awhile.

“You never said you didn’t, either - now, we’re going to have to get you acquainted with a few different weapons, so you know your options. Try these.”

Loki passed you his daggers.

“Here, hold them like this-”

You shrank away.

“What?” he asked, sounding vaguely offended. “What, you don’t like them?” You shook your head, slowly.

“The... weight doesn’t feel right in my hands,” you offered, trying to come up with an excuse. What else could you say? The truth, that you didn’t want to wield the same weapon that had killed female Loki? Could you say that, without hurting your Loki?

He nodded, taking your words as the truth.

“Have you tried a staff?” “A... a couple times. I’m clumsy with it.”

Loki hesitated, almost imperceptibly.

“...Sword?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and something familiar, yet new echoed through you.

Sword. Yes.

You wanted a sword.

“...How did you know...?”

“Amora used a sword,” he admitted, bluntly. “Though you couldn’t exactly wield hers... it was a powerful thing, really, called Kursebreaker - the long blade of the damned.”

“Kursebreaker?” “Yes, well... we were a little obsessed with fairytales back then. The Kursed were a breed of Dark Elf - well, they were. All the dark elves are dead, now. Nothing to worry about there. But Odin had loved to scare us with the stories - my mother, not so much. She’s terrified of them.”

Even though you were upset with him, you loved hearing Loki talk, no matter what the subject.

But listening to him speak about Asgard was nothing short of magical.

“Then again, Kursebreaker is gone.”

“Gone?”

“She was set off with it. At her funeral. That’s a thing Asgardians do... we bury our dead by casting them off waterfalls. It’s peaceful, really - of course, I can hardly remember it. I was well and truly drunk.”

You hadn’t known for sure before that his Amora was dead - you’d thought perhaps she had disappeared, or cast him aside. Somehow, there was something even more terrifying about living up to the standard set by a dead woman.

“ I can’t ever imagine you being a drunk,” you said, trying to tease and lighten the mood. “...Even on Asgard.” “Well, I wasn't. But I had begun being so many things I hadn’t been before she left us, I figured... why not add another? And it was only for the week of her funeral, anyhow. My father - Odin... had never liked the idea of us, had expected her as a wife for Thor. He spent most of the time around her burial trying to convince me that I would have been better with someone else. He didn’t understand. I didn’t... want anyone else. I still don’t.”

Loki swallowed, and you knew you were hearing all of this as a form of apology for the mission.

“Anyhow,” he spoke, clearing his throat and withdrawing a thin sword from seemingly nowhere, “You’ll need this. I want you to fight me with it.” “Fight you?” “You’ve never fenced before, and I have to see your form. See how hopeless you are at it.”

“...Hey!” He grinned, and you rolled your eyes.

“It’s alright, no one starts out good. Well, I did.” “Maybe I will, too,” you countered, assuming what you thought was a good fencing position. “What is that? What in Hel are you doing?” You shrugged, waving the sword, carelessly.

“I’m preparing to fence? ...I think?” “No, no, no,” he muttered, walking toward you. “No, this just won’t do - stand like me.” “I’m trying, Loki!”

“Don’t be difficult, now - I’m not going through this again...”

“What, do all your students give you trouble?” “Amora did.”

...

She was talented.

Amora, in recent memory, had been nothing. Which is why their friendship had always made sense to him - he felt close to being nothing, too.

And, since she had been nothing, just an orphan girl that Odin had rescued from a village in Vanaheim and given a home in the palace, she was absolutely miserable at fighting. Miserable at it.

To others, this was acceptable. She wasn’t meant for much else than a symbol of Asgard’s great kindness, how they’d taken in some pathetic girl, a girl who if Odin wanted it, would someday be the people’s princess, and then their queen. She was a sad story. A convenience of war. Someone Thor mostly ignored, someone Sif hated. No matter how good a warrior Sif was, as long as Amora was Odin’s chosen, Sif could never have Thor. No matter how kind or noble, Sif could never beat out the sob story of the poor little orphan.

To Loki, she was simply his best friend. The only person who ever spoke to him, or laughed at his jokes, or stood beside him at ceremonies.

But she was tiny, and frail, and easy to be picked on. That was completely unacceptable to him. He himself had experience with being pushed around from an early age, so he’d trained. Every bone in his body was a weapon, especially his mind. He could be outmuscled, sure, but never outmaneuvered.

Amora, he knew, shared many of these same traits. She lacked a certain cruelness that he prized, but he saw her become occasionally savage. He’d appeal to that instinct, draw it out. “Again,” he said, tapping his own sword on the ground. “Again.”

"Loki,” Amora groaned, struggling to get up. “We’ve gone five rounds-” “And I intend to keep going until you win. Again.”

...

"Again!” Loki shouted at you, and you could swear a rib was broken. Around your fourth dueling loss, something seemed to have snapped inside of him. He’d become manic, unhinged. He’d pushed you to limits you didn’t even know you had. Training had begun slowly, but he’d gotten to the point of even throwing obstacles at you with magic. He seemed to have forgotten, in his fever, that you didn’t have magic to defend yourself with.

It had to stop.

He was going to kill you.

“I said,” he yelled, running at you, “Again!”

You ducked, a curl of your hair cut off by the blade. You supposed you should have considered yourself lucky it wasn’t a finger, or your arm entirely.

“Loki, stop-” He knocked the sword from your hands, kicking you to the ground. “Yield.”

“I yield! I yield, okay!”

“Again.”

“I can’t!” “Yes, you can! I intend to keep going until you win!”

You took up your sword again, readying yourself.

Again, he trapped you. You were struggling, trying to escape the chokehold he had you in.

“Yield,” he insisted, and you tried to breathe long enough to get the word out.

“I... y...”

“Yield!” He wouldn’t really kill you, you thought, blood rushing to your head.

Would he? Loki seemed to have forgotten that he was fighting you, a Midgardian. Maybe on Asgard, this was training for beginners.

“I yield,” you choked out, and he released you.

“Again, Amora!”

The words escaped his mouth before he could think them, and all at once, you saw his face fall. He collapsed to the ground.

“Loki?” you whispered, timidly, approaching him and wondering if this was an elaborate sneak attack. If it was, he had no need for one. You hadn’t won a match yet.

...Oh.

He was crying.

You knelt down to his level.

“Hey, Loki,” you said, clutching your injured rib with one hand and taking his hand with the other, “I’m really okay, it’s not so bad-”

He shook his head.

“What have I done,” he spoke, quietly, looking at your bruised figure.

“I’m okay.” “I could have killed you.”

“I kinda thought you would, for a minute,” you admitted. He didn’t respond.

“Promise me you’ll be looked over? By... do you have healers here?”

“Yeah, we do - but Loki, can't you heal people?” “No. Not me.”

Loki wrenched his hand from yours, and without another word, he turned his back to you, retreating to his rooms.

...

Taglist:

gorgeourrific-nerd @suwupremeleader​ @sserpente @tripleyeeet

#loki x reader #loki x reader angst #loki #loki disney+ #loki imagine #blue monday #loki blue monday #blue monday by jules #jules writes #amora #loki x amora #amora the enchantress #loki and amora #thor

[lonestarbabe]

Coming Home

[AO3]

T.K. wants to move in with Carlos, but he’s nervous it’s too soon and is afraid to ask. The 126 sets him straight.

Things with Carlos have been good, really good, which is why T.K. feels ready to take the next step in their relationship, but with everything with Alex, he’s afraid to bring it up. He knows that he gets too invested too quickly, and he doesn’t want to scare Carlos away and jeopardize their future just because he’s impatient to move in together.

He talks to Marjan about it first. Mostly because she makes a pointed comment about how Carlos has been dropping T.K. off a lot lately. “I think we should move in together,” T.K. tells her, “But I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

“You practically live there anyway. You might as well save yourself the trouble of lugging your stuff back and forth.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know that Carlos is ready for that.”

“Why wouldn’t he be? “

“It’s been less than a year.”

“Yeah, but in less than a year, you’ve been through more than most couples go through in a lifetime.”

“I don’t want to come on too strong.”

Marjan rolls her eyes, “Are you kidding me, dude?” She looks at T.K. like he’s the dumbest person on the planet.

“What’s that look for, Marj?”

“Carlos made you an elaborate romantic dinner before you were even dating.”

“Yeah, and you know how badly that went.”

“My point is that he’s not taking it slow. He invites your friends over just so we have a place to hang out.”

“You’re his friends too.”

“Yeah, now we are, but only because he dove right in and welcomed us into his home, even though he didn’t have to.”

“Because he’s a good person. He’d open his doors to anyone who needs a place.”

“You need a place, don’t you?” Marjan comments.

“I haven’t even met his parents yet.”

“Don’t overthink this. Carlos looks at you with heart eyes 24/7. And you should have seen him when you were shot. He was devastated. He sat with you for hours, so I don’t think he’d mind cohabitating.”

When he talks to Nancy about it, she seems her words echo Marjan’s. “Dude, don’t be an idiot.”

“Why is everyone calling me dude.” He shook his head. “You sound exactly like Marjan.”

“What’s the worst that can happen? Just ask him.”

“Would it be weird if I asked over text.”

“Are you afraid of your puppy-eyed boyfriend, Strand?” Tommy cuts in.

“No, I just don’t want to make things weird.”

Tommy speaks in her “mother” voice. “Then, don’t make things weird and talk to him.”

With all the words of advice, T.K. doesn’t feel any more decisive than he was to begin. The thought of bringing it up makes his throat dry and scratchy. He wouldn’t know how to pull the words into the air, even if he decided that it was right to say them. This decision isn’t one that he can take lightly. He doesn’t want to build a relationship on grand gestures and rush through things at the expense of their relationship. He wants things with Carlos to be different. “You never moved in with Alex,” Owen reminds him, and T.K. isn’t in the mood to take relationship advice from his dad because Owen’s recent track record with romance isn’t so good. (And yeah, maybe the mistakes of his parents are some of the things that make T.K. clam up when he thinks of navigating his relationship with Carlos).

T.K. doesn’t plan on bringing it up with anyone else, but Paul, Mateo, and Judd corner him unwittingly at the end of his shift. “You look conflicted,” Paul says.

T.K. raises his eyebrows. “You can’t possibly know that by looking at me.”

“Marjan told me that you’re nervous to move in with Carlos.”

“That’s not what it is. I’m nervous that Carlos will hate the idea.”

Mateo looks perplexed. “He already gave you a key to his apartment.”

“That’s for convenience. It doesn’t mean we’re ready to live together full time.”

“What would be so different?”

“Well nothing, but don’t you think we should wait until we’ve been in this relationship longer?”

“But what? When you know you know,” Judd says. “Time don’t matter when you’re in love. Just listen to your instincts.”

“Yeah, maybe. But I did that before and that went to hell.”

“You and Alex weren’t good for each other,” Paul says, “But it’s different with Carlos. You’re not asking him to marry you. You’re just asking to live together. Even if he’s not ready, it’s not going to be the end of your relationship.”

“He won’t say no,” Mateo reassures.

“Not if he’s smart,” Judd agrees.

By the end of the day, T.K. knows that the only person left to talk to is Carlos, and he’s still unsure if he’s going to do that. As he unlocks the door and slips into Carlos’ house, he feels his nerves twist in his stomach. Carlos is already there, starting dinner. “Hey,” T.K. says, and his voice is hoarse.

Carlos puts down the spoon, face changing at the tone of T.K.’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” T.K. says, and Carlos doesn’t look convinced. “Really, nothing at all. I just…” he trails off because he’s not ready to come out with the words.

“Just what?” Now Carlos sounds nervous, and this is not how T.K. envisioned this conversation happening.

“I wanted to talk to you about something, but it can wait.”

“Is it serious?”

T.K. shrugs. It seems pretty serious, but maybe Carlos doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal. They haven’t really talked about it before, and now, T.K.’s wondering if he should hint at moving in and talk about the potential before he talks about it in reality. “I don’t know?”

Carlos smiles fondly. “You don’t know?”

“It’s not bad, but it would be a change.”

“Don’t tell me you’re changing jobs again.”

“No, I think this one is it. It feels like me. We can talk about it after dinner. I don’t want to interrupt what you’ve got planned.”

“It’ll keep. You know me. I won’t be able to sit through dinner without knowing.”

“I love your curiosity. You’ll make a great detective someday.”

“You think?”

“I know,” T.K. says. “Do you need help with dinner?”

“Don’t try to divert my attention.”

“Babe, do you really think I’d do that?”

“You absolutely would.” Carlos gives a pleading look. “If it’s nothing bad, just let it out. The suspense is killing me.”

“I’m not sure how you’ll respond. I know you’ll be nice about it, but I don’t want to make things weird.”

“You’ve told me about your parent’s loud sex. If things were going to get weird, they would have by now.”

“That wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t live with that trauma alone.”

“I don’t blame you. That was wild. But things don’t have to be weird if we don’t make them weird.”

“I guess I should just ask.”

“Yeah, seems like a good idea.”

“Okay, so this is just something I’m wondering about. I don’t want you to feel pressure to say yes, and if you say no, I’m not going to blow up or be a headcase. I’ve made peace with either answer. So, um, yeah. Don’t let hurting my feelings impact your decision.” He can’t stop himself from talking, and all the words are flowing out of him before he can think about what he’s saying.

“Cariño, whatever it is, take a breath. It’s just me, and whatever it is, we’ll handle it as a team.”

“Yeah, about that, the teamwork. I like that we’re a team, and I think we can up our teamwork.”

“If you’re suggesting we join a bowling league or something, I’m game,” Carlos jokes.

“I don’t even know how to bowl, so no, that’s not the kind of teamwork I was thinking about. I was thinking more like living together.” T.K. immediately feels stupid for the suggestion, so he tries to backtrack. “It’s a dumb idea. I didn’t mean it like that. We don’t have to do it, like, now, but I just think it could be good. In the future or whatever.”

Carlos starts to laugh, and T.K. isn’t sure what to make of that response. Of all the scenarios he created in his head, that wasn’t one of them.

“What’s so funny?”

Carlos leans over to kiss T.K. “You’re cute when you’re nervous.”

“I just don’t want to ruin things.”

“I’ve been hinting about moving in together for weeks, T.K.”

“What? When?”

“I kept saying about how nice it would be if we could spend more nights together. I told you that you could have more than just a couple drawers. I gave your eight million vitamins a special place.”

“You could have just said something.”

“I was trying to get you used to the idea so you didn’t panic.”

“The only thing I panicked about was having to ask.”

“You had nothing to worry about.”

“So, is that a yes?”

“I’ll have to think about it.”

T.K. gives Carlos an impatient look, “Don’t leave me in suspense.”

“I’m thinking about all your hoodies and the way you just throw your stuff around.”

“Small consolations for having someone to come home to.”

“Coming home. I like that sound of that.”

“You’re a jerk for dragging this out.”

“I’m a jerk you’ll be living with.

“And those no jerk I’d rather come home to.”

#text #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #My writing #Elise Writes #My Fics #1000 - 3000 words

[voidtekarc]

Day 16 - Sorrow

“Larsicia, darling, your betrothed is here!”

it was her mother shouting from the main lobby of the mansion they lived in. her heart rose in happiness until she realized it was that awful man her family had arranged the whole thing with and the man she loved was away on military duty. Lariscia smiled into a mirror, practicing for when she had to make an appearance downstairs. She rubbed her face and breathed in deeply,

“Coming!” She came downstairs with a very basic level of makeup and a formal dress that was not anything fancy. She didn’t want to show off for this thing. There stood her mother and Secundus. He was a weaker man, even shorter than her, with a red nose which indicated drinking, and his voice was shrill. He made her skin crawl.

“Ah, hello, Lariscia. Pretty as ever.”

She closed her eyes and gave an ever slight head nod without trying to gag, “My...thanks.”

Her mother looked a little irritated at her behavior but shrugged it off as just her attitude about the entire situation. With their funds drying up and the family business doing horrible, they needed a way out. They picked Larsicia for it, “Well, I’ll let you two entertain each other for a while and go over wedding details.” She walked off as the two were left alone.

Lariscia decided it was best if they met and discussed things upstairs in the viewing room. The human sized creature decided to follow behind her, peering to her backside as they finally did get to the large room, windows viewing to the outside into the gardens. 

Secundus smiled as he ran a finger along one of the chairs as she looked to him, eyeing whatever activity he was doing, wary of anything he might be planning. He spoke up in a agitated tone, “So, I’ve been hearing some things that have upset me recently. rumors have you of skipping family meetings and dinners randomly at strange times.” He looked up to her and raised a brow, “I don’t know who you are whoring around with but I assure you, that’s at an end.”

She looked away at first as her face became flush with rage before staring back to him as she tilted her head, “Oh, throwing  around false accusations, Secundus? Was this before or after you decided to down an entire bottle of booze  before coming here, you little worm?”

He rushed her, and slapped her across the face as hard as he could, “How fucking dare you!”

She took about as kindly to this action as almost anyone would. With tears in her eyes, blood on her lip, she balled her fist and let loose, punching him in the jaw, knocking him flat on his ass. She didn’t even stop there. Before he could do anything, she grabbed a metal lamp and cracked it along his face, breaking it and busted his face open with a large gash. She swung a few more times, making sure he was down for the count. She tossed it to the side. He coughed and struggled to get up as she yelled at him.

“Don’t you ever touch me or even dare look at me again! If you do, I will fucking end you!”

She didn’t get a response. Only a weak man wincing as his blood dripped onto the run beneath him, quivering at her words .

She hustled out of the room, down the stairs with tears staining her face and blood on her lip. Her mother tried to stop her but she slammed the door behind her ignoring absolutely everything she said. She walked out onto the front lawn and she kept walking down drive, until she reached the main road leading to their home.

She sat on the ground, she put her face in her hands and she started to bawl and weep. Hot, stringing tears, dripping from her face. She fell on her side, letting the grass console her and the trees give her shade from her troubles. She needed to escape from this hell. She needed Arc.

@daily-writing-challenge

#ffxiv rp #mateus #crystal data center #garleans #garlean #Lariscia Rilanox #Not Arc this time! #DWC #sorrow

[katherinemallory]

#10 The roulette of feelings

Hell is empty and all the previous chapters are here: #1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #6 #7 #8 #9

After a few days in London we caught our flight to Monte Carlo. I’m not sure how long we stayed there. This mission felt like a long holiday since the very beginning.

Still on board we agreed that Bond would be the one to play poker and I would pose as his wife, or, as he has put it, “a crown jewel”. Usually I don't like being treated as such, since my experience in behaving like a damsel is close to a bare minimum, but this time I really enjoyed it. Bond was clearly pleased with his leading role in this show, and - while sitting at the poker table - he started to take chances more eagerly. He boasted about his poker skills all the time and I kept working from the shadows, observing him and our rivals, and making sure that we don’t expose ourselves too much. A win-win situation.

We were quite busy spending time at the casino, discussing the tactics, or using all the possible attractions offered by the city of Monte Carlo. The only contact I had with the outside world during the first week were my reports to MI6 which went directly to M, delivered to him by Eve Moneypenny.

One day, while Bond was on the meeting with our liaison (it's amazing the SIS has got its people... everywhere), my phone rang. I picked it up and sat on my bed, crossing my legs.

"Hi Eve. It’s nice to hear you. Did you... find out anything?"

"Not yet, Kath, but I'm working on it," she reassured me. "I just wanted to know how you're doing. You haven't been in touch for *days*. I’ve only noticed your daily reports."

"I'm more than fine, thank you. And I’m sorry for not being in touch... I have to admit I've been kinda busy, but... I won’t complain. Finally I do all those things I needed to recharge my batteries."

“I can’t believe what I hear! Does it mean I should become a double-0 if I want to feel more relaxed?” she teased me.

“You definitely should try it,” I replied, smiling. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s absolutely true. I enjoy the high-life more than I expected... All those fancy parties, drinks, wealthy men, late-night strolls around the streets of Monte Carlo... You get used to it pretty quickly," I replied in delight. "Sometimes I forget that I am here for the purpose of work.”

“It’s great to hear that, Kath. You deserve it, especially after what happened in Geneva,” said Eve and hesitated. “And... And w-w-what about Bond...? I guess it’s him who takes you on these late-night strolls?” 

I laid on the bed, putting one pillow under my head. I looked straight at the white ceiling.

“Well... We spend each night at the casino, pretending to be a husband and a wife who just want to enjoy themselves... In the mornings Bond tries to teach me how to play poker. I fail miserably every time!” I chuckled. “We share a suite. I had some concerns before, but so far he behaves."

Eve's voice went up really high.

"You mean he did give up on you?”

I tilted my head to the right, placing my cheek on one of the pillows and pressing the phone to my ear.

"He didn’t. We flirt regularly," I replied, as I scratched my forehead with my left hand. “But he’s more patient now, I reckon. And more self-confident. He knows I can’t pay much attention to the other men at the casino, cause it would blow our cover immediately. He knows I wouldn’t do that... This is what makes him... erm... powerful. And he probably thinks I will fall for him eventually,” I added, rolling my eyes. “And I’m afraid he’s right.”

“Uh, you don’t really *mean* it, do you?” she asked, concerned. “There’s no pressure... This mission won’t last forever.”

“Honestly, Eve? Sometimes I feel like it will last forever... And Bond’s presence gets more addictive every day,” I said, lying on my back again. “I used to make fun of it, but I’m afraid I can’t resist Bond much longer. I mean... Not because he’s irresistible, but because... I really start to feel something for him.”

I took a deep breath and then continued:

“It all depends on what you find. If Mallo... erm, if the man I asked you to spy on... is married, then I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t have an affair with Bond...”

“Fair enough,” commented Eve. “At least you know what Bond wants from you. Suppose that’s something. But didn’t you admit the other day that you loved Ma...”

“It’s more complicated than you think," I interrupted. "When you spend all days in Bond’s company, it changes your perspective entirely... You’d better hurry then. I am so confused recently...” Damn, I thought. There is no need to burden Eve with all of this... I should probably change the subject. “... but you didn’t tell me anything about yourself, how was your day at the SIS? Any news?”

“Business as usual. I can’t share much detail, but it seems like Amanda’s got reassigned as she had requested.”

“Good for her. Send my love.”

“I will. And I promise to get in touch as soon as I find out anything about... *him*.”

...

The upcoming days passed so fast that I didn’t think about anything apart from what was going on in Monte Carlo. Intuitively both myself and Bond concentrated on the everyday tasks of the mission, but it turned out most of the time we just had fun, which meant our Walther and Beretta were absolutely useless.

Since the only moments I had only to myself were those just before going to bed in the evenings, I often spent them on analyzing my own feelings and, as a result, I developed a certain kind of insomnia. Or, I should rather call it “a difficulty with falling asleep”.

My thoughts were centred on Mallory. I miss him. I miss him dearly, but only when I have time to think about what he's doing in his old-fashioned office in London. When Bond is around, it’s only him who matters to me. Why is that? What the hell has happened to me? I don't know, but it's disturbing. And I get tired every time I try to sort things out in my mind... Can I really sleep with Bond if Mallory’s married? It’s not about giving up on a married man (which is an obvious decision from my point of view, as I would never break up *anyone’s* marriage), but about being honest to myself. Do I really love Mallory if I can fantasize about Bond? Or do I really feel something for Bond if my next move depends on Mallory’s marital status?

After a few evenings of such intense thinking I realized that no matter the arguments, such analysis is pointless. I could be thinking about this for a year and still didn’t come up with a right solution. I decided to wait and see how the case would resolve itself.

On the last day - it was one of those splendid days in June when you feel the most alive - we went to the casino for one more time, looking more dashing than ever. Little did we know, when we walked hand in hand into the casino - Bond wearing a black dinner jacket and me in an evening scarlet dress - that Bond would win the night’s poker game, gaining an enormous amount of money.

Late at night, around 3 A.M. I went straight to the poker table and brought Bond a dry martini (I've already had a few of them myself to relieve the boredom).

"Congratulations," I said, handing him a martini.

"Thank you," replied Bond and drank half of his glass.

I looked at him with aroused interest while he was drinking. I was never good at poker and, as much as I didn't want to, I had to admit the way he played that night impressed me.

"What do we do now?"

For a while, he observed the olives that seemed as if they were swimming inside the glass, and then gave me a quick glance.

"We pack and come back to London."

"Is that so? What about the winnings?" I asked in disbelief, expecting some kind of joke rather than a matter-of-fact response.

"I will have to transfer them to MI6. I have already contacted M, he should send me the instructions in the next few hours."

"You've already contacted M? Someone's in a hurry. Was your time here *that* bad?” I taunted him.

Bond smirked, but didn't say anything. I glanced around the room. The people started to leave the place.

"So, it means we came here broken and we leave broken, despite the win?" I asked, laughing.

"One could say that," Bond agreed. "But I can still afford a dinner and a drink. Would you join me tonight for a humble celebration?"

"With pleasure. Let's enjoy our last hours in this marvellous place,” I said, taking him by the arm.

After the dinner in one of the restaurants at the casino, we went for our last walk around the streets of Monte Carlo. Both me and Bond became unexpectedly talkative, probably because of too many drinks we had to celebrate the happy ending of the mission.

It could have been around 5 A.M when the walk started to feel too exhausting, and we went back to our shared suite.

"Would you like another?" asked Bond, pointing to the bottle of bourbon at the table, just after we locked the door to the suite.

"Yes," I replied. "The last one for tonight."

I have no idea why I agreed to this, cause I've never been drinking much or mixing alcohols in the past. After Bond handed me my glass, I let my hair down and rushed to the balcony. I need to see this amazing city just one more time before I go to sleep, I thought. I observed the skyline, waiting for Bond to join me.

"To the king and queen of Monaco," said Bond and we clinked glasses, standing next to each other.

I smiled at him and drank the whole glass with my eyes closed, but I still could tell he was staring at me.

"You know, Katherine, it's been one of my favourite missions so far."

"Really?”

"Yes... It’s the simplicity of it,” he took off his dinner jacket, thrown it on the nearest chair, and then continued. “The task I'm really good at... the fairy-tale location, no rush... and the right woman. You," he said in his deep, smooth voice and put his glass on the floor.

Then he put one of his hands on the railing and turned to me, but didn’t say a word, as if he intended to find out how close to me I would allow him to move.

“It’s an honour to hear something like that from such an experienced double-0,” I said timidly, still holding the empty glass in my hands.

Bond gazed at me for a few seconds.

"It's true, I've been a double-0 for quite a while," he said and turned his head to look at the skyline of Monte Carlo, "but rarely did I feel this close with another agent. It's strange. I’ve always tried to avoid being emotionally attached to anyone. Cause of the job's nature and all that stuff."

This time it was me who stayed quiet. I just kept listening to him, realizing how much I *love* his voice and how could I listen to him talking *forever*. It occurred to me how beautiful his magnetic blue eyes were, especially in the middle of the night. One could say the same about Bond's face which now seemed to me like the face of the most handsome man on the planet. It should be illegal to be *that* handsome, I thought.

Bond turned his head to me.

"Then I've met you... and it seems I forget about all of those rules in the blink of an eye... it seems I don't control myself anymore."

I don't know how it happened, but in the next moment I found myself in Bond's arms. I felt his embrace, so tight, as if he wanted to protect me from all of the threats of this world. The glass dropped out of my hands and probably broke up, but we didn’t hear anything apart from the sound of our pumping hearts. I placed my hands on Bond’s chest, and we began to kiss, not being able to control the lust that started to fulfil our bodies. I quickly moved my hands to his neck and then the back of his head. I caressed his hair, which felt like the most pleasant material I have ever touched.

"You're the woman of my dreams," whispered Bond, when he started to kiss my neck. In response, I tilted my head back, but continued to touch his hair.

Out of the blue Bond picked me up and headed towards the bedroom. He was in a hurry, wanting to put me on his bed as soon as possible. He took off his shirt and laid down on me, holding my waist and passionately kissing my neck.

"Oh, James," I moaned, as the touch of his lips and hands started to turn me on. “Keep going... umm... And use that nice, deep voice of yours.”

“Like this?” he asked, lowering his voice and biting my ear. “Do you like it?”

“Yes...”

Oh my, I am in heaven. If he doesn't stop, I'll melt, I thought. I let Bond kiss me a few more times, but then moved to the other side of the bed to undress. Bond watched me hungrily as I took off my dress and stockings. And there I was, lying on his bed and wearing only my sexy black lingerie. I thought that he would eat me if he could.

I encouraged Bond with a sensual gesture, touching myself where I wanted to be touched the most. He couldn’t stand watching me for long, and came closer to kiss me again. He slowly moved from my belly and breasts to my neck.

“I've been waiting for this moment since the day we've met," he murmured, while kissing my collarbone.

I closed my eyes to double the thrill and make the experience more intense. My hands moved to his back and held him tighter.

"You drive me crazy," Bond whispered into my ear.

A fast thought crossed my mind. It's true what they say in the Service... nobody does it better... he's definitely a great lay... to hell with “the revenge plot”, go for it, Kath. I was just about to take off my bra, when I heard something was vibrating. I got a text. Great timing. I opened my eyes and reluctantly sat on the bed, bending down to the bedside cabinet.

"Oh, Katherine, just ignore it," said Bond who still caressed my waist with his right hand.

"Look who’s talking," I replied. "The most professional man in the Service... There’s no need to describe this to you..."

I looked at the screen and in that exact moment my adventurous mood was gone. I felt as if my heart stopped for a short while.

Hi, just wanted to let you know that I have some evidence. He's not married anymore. Love, Eve

I quickly locked the screen to prevent Bond from seeing the message, as I felt his touch on my back. He hugged me from behind, kissing my left shoulder.

"Shall we continue?" he asked in his naughty manner.

I froze in my tracks. What about M? How can I fight for him if I sleep with another man right now? I promised myself to fight for Mallory and I have to be consistent. This was fun, but... I love Mallory, right? It's high time to stop playing games... and to finally forget about Bond. Perhaps it's a good sign I got this message before we did antyhing reckless.

I stood up with my back to Bond, still holding the phone in my hands.

"I'm sorry James... but I can't do this,” I declared as seriously as I could.

"But why?" he asked calmly, but his voice was full of disappointment and sadness. "Was it something I did?"

Oh, dear James, I thought. If you only knew how perfectly you did everything...

"No," I replied and turned to him. My voice was shaking a bit. "It was... it was a wonderful night, but I've never slept with a co-worker before... and... I've just realized it would be wrong. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for this," I blurted out and felt a tear doing down my cheek.

Bond seemed not to believe me.

"You've *just* realized it? *Just* after you've got that message," he said, pointing to my phone. "I don't know what this is about, but... we've had such a great time here, why not celebrate it tonight? It doesn’t matter at all that we work together."

I turned my head in embarrassment, trying not to look at him. He stood up and came closer to me.

"I know that you like me," Bond said and placed his hands on my arms. "You can't simply deny our chemistry. You've seen what kind of magic it can cause... you don't have to ruin it."

I took his hands off me and went to the other side of the bed to grab my clothes.

"I'm really sorry, James. It's over."

"It's over before it even started... Strange, isn’t it?"

I ignored him, as I headed toward to the door leading to my part of the suite. I must have looked miserable in my sexy black lingerie, holding my evening dress, and being on the verge of a mental breakdown.

"I don't want to hurt you *again*," I said quietly with my hand on the doorknob.

Bond shook his head.

"You will hurt me if you leave,” he said calmly, but I knew he was full of anger. His eyes told me he was suspicious of everything I’ve said.

As I knew he had the very right to be suspicious, I turned my back on him, trying to get inside my part of the suite. My hands started to shake, making it impossible to quickly open the door.

“You still think about *him*, don’t you Kath...?” Bond asked in a raised voice, with his hands on his hips. “Why do you keep deceiving yourself? He’s not cut out for it! He doesn’t see you this way... and even if something happened between us he wouldn’t care!”

But I would, James. I would, I thought, going inside my part of the suite through the door. I couldn’t bear to look at those cold blue eyes again.

I went up straight to the bathroom and locked the door. I could not think of anything else than just bursting into tears.

You're so stupid, Kath. Mallory thinks you're responsible, but you're just stupid, I thought, looking at myself in the mirror. What was that for? Bond might be a womanizer, but no one deserves to be treated like that. No one. Does he use other women? He does. But it’s none of your business, Kath. You don't offer someone the pleasure and then deny it. You just don’t...

I spend a few minutes sitting on a bathroom’s floor and crying.

But looking on the bright side... at least I got my backup story. Everyone will see something’s happened between us, but no one will ask questions. And if there is a slightest chance M cares about me, he’ll get the message.

I can’t wait for this mission to be really over. By this time tomorrow I shall be in my apartment in London. Alone.

***

To be continued.

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