#RATTLES our brain so hard. stop!!!! thinking!!!! stop having thoughts like this stop it die

[lostgirl677]

Welcome to the Hellfire

This is an AU Pirate!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Masterlist

(This picture is entirely handmade, sorry for the quality. It didn’t turn out the way I wanted 😅)

A runaway, that’s what you are. A runaway that left everything behind her because of a forced marriage. You can’t stand the simple idea of being married to that jerk of Lord Hargrove’s son, William. Number of girls would kill just for one of his glance, but you are not like them. You know that your family needs their money, but you won’t let them decide for you. How you had to fight at the ceremony to escape from his grasp.

Flashback

They just finished helping you put on your nuptial gown. You fight so hard to keep your tears from falling. 

‘You have to be brave, darling. Think about us, about everything that we’ve been through and to finally find a solution that suits everyone’ says your mother.

‘Yes, everyone but me..’

 ‘Y/N? don’t start again with this. It’s been discussed for months. Now, it's the big day. Don’t ruin our chances, be the daughter I raised you to be.’

 ‘The emotionless puppet who’s supposed to obey her master and to satisfy everyone but herself ? Well, it seems like the puppet grew a heart and a brain’ she’s about to explode but decided to leave you.

 ‘I’ll see you at the ceremony’ she says coldly

Now that you are alone, you try to think of a way to escape from this place without being noticed. You were quickly interrupted by your ‘soon to be husband’.

 ‘You look gorgeous my dear’ William says, nearly drooling and his eyes full of lust. 

‘You are not supposed to be here. Get out’ you say flatly. 

‘Well, well it’s not a way to talk to your future husband’ he smirks. He closes the space between you and grabs your waist. You try to throw him a punch but he grabs your hand.

‘I promise to teach you some manners, love’ he says murmuring in your ear. Enough is enough, you knee him in his secret parts and escape from his embrace. He falls to the ground.

‘Little bitch !’ he growls and tries to catch a piece of your dress.Your struggle causes a torn in it and makes you fall on your butt. He grabs your ankle but you kick him in the face with your other foot. He growls again in pain.

‘I will end you ! Who are you to say no to me ?’

 When he tries to get up, you take a lamp in your hands and shatter it on his head. He falls unconscious on the floor. It’s your call to escape. You manage to open the window and jump. Thankfully it wasn’t that high. Once outside, you run. You don’t know where, you just run. Wherever you go on this land, you know that they’ll find you. Suddenly, an idea crossed your mind. You weren’t far from the beach. So you run to the beach and luckily find an abandoned tiny boat on the sand. 

‘Time to cut the strings little puppet’ you say while pushing the tiny boat on the ocean.

End of Flashback

Here you are now, alone on the ocean. You don’t even know if you are going to make it out alive but you’d rather die free than live with someone like William. It feels like days have passed but maybe it was just hours. You are tired but you can’t sleep. You relive the last events in your mind again and again. But your thoughts are cut short when the waves start to grow bigger and bigger with each passing second. You try to steady the boat but it rattle way too much for you to succeed. Without a warning, it sways and makes you fall. You knock your head and lose consciousness

Eddie’s POV.

It’s a boring day but he tries to keep his mind busy by planning their next adventure. Will they try to find the legendary Sea Witch’s treasure or find the Kraken ? His crew is more than willing when it comes to go and find lost treasures and fight creatures. But again, today is a boring day, even Jeff stopped playing music outside.

‘A girl ! A girl !’

It’s Gareth from the crow nest. Eddie practically ran out of his cabin to see for himself and so all the crew. Indeed, there was an unconscious girl on a tiny boat. She is sickly pale and looks almost dead. Her dress looks like a wedding dress.

‘I’ll go get her’ Eddie says. Once in the boat, he tries to get close to her to check her pulse.

‘She’s alive’ he screams to his crew. 

‘ Hello ? Miss, can you hear me ?’ No answers but he could swear that he saw her fingers move a little but he’s not quite sure nonetheless.

‘Prepare something to eat for her.’ he says while picking her up and getting back on the ship.

He lay her delicately on his bed. She’s the most gorgeous girl he ever laid eyes on. Her (h/c) hair is a bit tangled and her “wedding” dress is torn in some places. He really wonders who she is and what happened to her. Before he could let his thoughts wander a bit more about the stranger he hears someone knock on the door.

‘Come in’ he says without tearing his eyes off her. 

‘I bring the food you asked for, Captain’ 

‘Thanks Grant’

‘How is she ?’

‘I don’t know. Now that she is in a safe and warm place, she seems a little better. Let’s hope that she’ll wake up soon’ 

Grant leaves the cabin. Maybe he should go back to his plans.

Y/N’s POV

The first things you register while waking are the soft mattress under you and that it gently cradles you. Then you open your eyes. There is a ceiling. That’s weird because the last thing you remember is being on a boat in the middle of a storm. Was it a dream ? And you turn your head and see a man seated behind his desk. You gasp.

He turns his head towards you and smiles kindly.

‘Hey ! Glad to see you’re awake. How are you feeling ?’ He asks and gently walks towards you so as to not scare you.

He seems nice but you are wary. He has long brown curly hair, a bandana with skulls printed on it under his hat, plenty of rings, a necklace and  has brown eyes with eyeliner. He also has tattoos. He wears a white shirt, a black pants, black boots and a long black leather jacket. He is more than probably a pirate.

‘Where am I ? Who are you ?’ you ask

‘On a ship. I am Captain Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. At your service.’  He says bowing to you while taking his hat off. ‘Now my turn to ask questions. Who are you and why were you dressed in a wedding dress and alone in a boat in the middle of the ocean ?’

You are completely at his mercy, so it wouldn’t change a thing if you tell him a lie. So you tell him the truth.

‘My name is Y/N  Y/L/N and I ran away because I was forced to marry someone I hate’

He seems genuinely interested in your story and asks you for more details. So you tell him all the details.

‘You are a feisty one, M’Lady. Should I be careful around you ?’ he asks playfully. You feel at ease with him

‘Definitely’ you say smiling.

‘Oh ! I asked my crew to prepare you a meal. I thought that you may be hungry after all of this adventure.’ he says after a moment of silence and pointing at a plate.

‘Thank you’ you said.

‘If you need me, I’ll be on the deck. If you want, I can find you something to wear other than this dress.’

‘Thank you, it’s really nice of you’. He leaves the cabin. You ate everything on the plate and decided to take a look around the cabin. There were loads of different kinds of guitars and other instruments. You also spot a box full of tobacco and a pile of doodles. After this, you decide to wander outside.

The sky was a bit gray but the sun still shines through the clouds.You notice the flag and realize that it wasn’t the classic Jolly Roger flag but a demon head surrounded by two different weapons.

The crew members are busy with the chores and Eddie is at the helm. He spots you and leaves it to walk in your direction while the crew waves at you.

‘Welcome to the Hellfire, Miss Y/L/N’  he says, kissing your hand. You try not to blush at his actions.

‘You can call me Y/N’

‘Well Y/N, it’s a pleasure to have you here. I found you new clothes and since you are sadly stuck here for a bit I’ll show you around after you change.’ 

There was a burgundy dress, a plain shirt with a pair of pants and boots. You take the shirt with the pants and the boots, arrange your hair and go outside the cabin to begin the visit.

 By the time  the visit is over, it is time for dinner. Eddie is really a charming person and is very funny. He makes you forget all the bad things that pushed you to live your past life with your parents and the terrible wedding.

‘It would give me great pleasure if you'd join me for dinner, Y/N’

You accepted. You take the burgundy dress this time and join him.

The dinner was great and you decided to ask him about his story.

‘I wasn’t always the great and sexy pirate you have before your very eyes.’ he says, smirking. ‘I used to live with my uncle in a country far away from here. I was always one to cause mischief and people there hated me but I had a few friends I could count on so it didn’t matter.They all said that I am exactly like my father, which is the worst insult I’ve been targeted with, that I’ll never be someone. Just the local freak. But you know, being harassed and shunned is a routine, you get used to it at some point. Everyday, people insulted me and accused me for every single wrong in their life.But one day, something terrible happened to a girl I knew. She was murdered in the most awful way before my eyes. I couldn’t do anything to prevent that and I was accused. They were going to put me on trial and execute me for something I didn’t do. So I ran away and became a very charismatic pirate. It’s still haunting me. But I guess the local freak wanted to get international, you know’ he said with a wink but you see the sadness in his eyes and notice that his voice was about to shatter when he mentioned that girl.

You can’t help but feel sorry for him. You motion to take his hand and look him in the eyes. You can feel the coolness of his rings under your palm.

‘I’m really sorry for you. If they couldn’t appreciate you, their loss’ he smiles at your kind words. 

When he gets up, you finally notice a weird metal sound.

‘What is this noise ?’ you aks

He seems confused and then understands what you meant.

‘Oh, it’s nothing, just chains’

‘Chains ? I thought that you escaped the authorities’

‘Yeah, I did but I wear them to remind me that I should have done something to help her. So it’s a form of punishment I put on myself’ he says with the same haunted look on his eyes but he regains his composure and before you could react he practically ran like a maniac on the deck to ask his crew to play music.

‘ Gentlemen ! This lady needs a distraction so I expect you to play like virtuosos to honor her and your Captain. Make me proud, you bunch of scoundrels !’

Eddie’s POV

It was the only way for him to not crumble in front of everyone. He shouldn’t have burdened her his depressing story but it was like he always knew her. Call it fate or whatever, but he was sure that the seas brought her to him for a reason. To reward him for something, he doesn’t know what but she must be a reward from the gods. And now that he sees her dancing and laughing with the crew, it makes him like she has always been there by his side. He joined her and they danced until dawn.

When everyone was exhausted, he gave her his cabin and headed to the crew dorm when she grabbed his hand and told him that he could stay.

One month later

 You roamed the seas with Eddie and the Hellfire crew and you couldn’t be happier. You explored many islands, discovered lost treasures and even fought creatures. The only thing is that you also made an enemy: the terrible Captain Henry Creel a.k.a Vecna. But Eddie always finds a way to save everyone, right ?

Should I make a part 2 ?

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #eddie munson x y/n #henry creel #stranger things #stranger things x reader #AU pirate #stranger things imagine #stranger things x you #st4 #hellfire club #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #season 4 stranger things #joe quinn #joe quinn x reader #gareth emerson #jeff stranger things #henry creel x reader #001 stranger things #vecna stranger things #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove #chrissy cunningham

[loveaboveallandbelow]

my grandfather disowned me. this is an old story, rusted at the joints and weather-worn. the details as to why matter less than its effects, malignant roots that poison my psyche even years after the fact. The fact of it sits in the folds of my brain like stagnant pond water; he is dead and six feet in the earth. the love is lost, like rainwater after a drought.

i started hospice volunteering for possibly the worst reason: as a resume filler. empathy, crisis counseling, patient interaction. the golden opportunity to become a competitive applicant.

i was scared to visit my first patient. truth be told, i haven’t interacted much with “old” people in my life. three of my grandparents died before i had the chance to meet them, and the last left an acrid taste in my mouth. my volunteer coordinator ensured me i would love her, and i figured she said this to all of her new volunteers.

and still, my first visit with P was a joy. as it turns out, she lived for 20 years in the trailer park I grew up in. the thought of P watching me, 15 years in the past, walk to the bus stop each day filled me with an unknowable emotion. did she ever figure that little girl would hold her hand as death crawled up her neck?

P made it abundantly clear in our relationship that she was, in her words, not a good person. she spent more of her life under the influence of drugs and alcohol than she did sober, and she didn’t have a speaking relationship with her children.

i found it hard to hold the disdain for her she thought she deserved. she told me stories from her life, of pain and trauma and forgiveness. she laid herself bare for me, telling me how her stepfather abused her and how her mother would hit her for accusing him of such. she told me of how the first 25 years of her life were spent in anger before she eventually numbed herself with alcohol. she told me of how each night, her mother would enter her room and beat her with a broomstick, and she would hold in her tears until she left, too ashamed to cry in front of her mother.

I could relate to the anger. why, i'll often ask myself, did the bad things happen to me? what is so wrong with me that i could ever deserve it?

maybe, i like to think, P thought the same thing when she was 23 and scared and alone.

as hospice patients are prone to do, P eventually began to die. i sat by her bedside and watched her fingers swell and chest rattle as i played her blues, her favorite music. she saw her husband, who had died 5 years prior, standing vigil in the corner of the room.

she rallied, in the end. i visited her today, and she was more lucid and alive than i had ever seen her. i start a new job tomorrow, a volunteer coordinator with another hospice agency, so i'll have to quit volunteering with P. she held my hand and looked me in my eyes and told me she loved me.

i felt my heart loosen, right at its roots. maybe, not all love is lost.

#hospice #stream of conscious writing #prose #grief

[wistfulrat]

a 4-part rec list of my fave drarry fics - the thrillers, dramas, soft bois, and wankbanks getting me through 2020′s shitstorm

[the soft boi list is here and truly i’m not surprised this rec is going to be the longest bc if there’s one thing a bitch is going to do, it’s yearn.

as always! if you love a fic, follow the authors, leave kudos & comments, send them nice msgs bc free art is still labor xoxo]

part 3: soft bois

mood: for when I need respite, a balm to the all-consuming shittiness of life

includes: fluff, comfort, low-stakes, slow-burn fics. a wistful look, a rainy morning, an unexpected grace, a stupidly disarming joke. i could live inside these fics. the smallness of human lives removed from the site of that which hurts & irreparably changes. the story-equivalent of a deep breath after a long day. pregnant silences & pensive mundanity & shy smiles. banter with bite but without the cruelty. the color lavender. weirdly whimsical. soft fics are not necessarily conflict-averse (no drarry fic rly can be, considering the context) but, they offer the reader a generous distance from the initial harm. they’re the quiet cleaning up after a storm. sometimes healing is an exacting surgical knife and other times it’s a slow scabbing. you read these fics to be reassured that the way forward is not always ruthless. and honestly?? they deserve a semblance of peace godDAMmit.

The Way Down by @letteredlettered - 65k - T “and I thought that if someone talked to you as though you were a human being you might—maybe you could act like one” --the way i think about this line daily. the characterization of draco in this fic is one my favorites bc he’s earnest and neurotic and tired of harry’s shit. which is to say, he cares so so much. and harry doesn’t know what to do with that bc he’s got a monster in his chest and lives as a recluse. but they both humanize each other in ways no one else can. “you’re just a person�� has to be some kind of drarry ethics of belonging and it makes me CRY. -

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them by @greaseonmymouth and dustmouth - 96k - T “Maybe it’s not about deserving it? Maybe you just get to have it anyway. . .I’m allowing myself to want something and to let myself have it and to fight for it.” --harry runs a daycare and also works at a library. draco spends a lot of time in said library. they bond over sci-fi books and therapy anecdotes and quiet philosophical conversations held over cafeteria soup. and harry’s struggling to understand his asexuality. draco’s learning how to live with anxiety and depression. they both want to be deserving of love. incredible fic with beautiful art by dustmouth. - 

Open for Repairs by @drarrytrash - 35k - T “A few leaves rustle in the gutter and the muggle world pays no mind to them, to two lost boys holding on for dear life.” --all of their fics feel exactly like this. like you’ve been allowed to look at something private, tender, unexpected. draco, known abba fan, is a repairman in the muggle world & harry can’t stop breaking thrifted things in order to see him? say less, i'm thERE. also “I think I have a crush on you” goddddd  - other faves by them: Counting Down By Ten - 2k - T: draco’s stepped outside of the party for a smoke. harry follows him bc of course he does. i could read this 100 times and not get tired of it. - Clouds That Veil the Midnight Moon - 36k - E: FUCKING HILARIOUS I CACKLED THROUGH THE WHOLE THING. draco’s wolfy problem and harry helping him and harry being flustered by how much he likes draco and draco’s hot heroic moment. shutup it’s perfect. “He almost asks if Draco ever gets tired of being a miserable complaining shit all the time, but he knows that he, personally, never ever gets tired of being a miserable complaining shit.” and “It’s the traumas,” Harry says gravely” --lines that live rent free in my head -

Harry Potter and the Future He Doesn't Really Want, Thanks by seefin - 70k - E “That was the only logical thing to do here, wasn’t it? It was the next step, it was the end of hurting each other and the beginning of the exact opposite.” --harry lives with luna and neville and also he dreams about the future sometimes? and he keeps running into draco. draco thinks this is sus as hell, until he doesn’t. feat. taxi rides, museums, cinemas, rooftop conversations beneath a lunar eclipse, mid-sex innocuous banter, draco and harry discussing nicki minaj. this fic charmed my ass off. seefin writes the most effortlessly hilarious dialogues. i smiled at my phone like an idiot at least 7 times. -  other faves by them: Wild - 93k - E: “he liked feeling needed, for the things that he was needed for back at the house in Ireland. For cooking and gardening and driving. Easy things.” --this shit makes me cry it’s so good. harry lives in Ireland with these three brilliant, hilarious, wandless witches and draco’s a potions student who's come to study under one of the housemates and the boys have so much shit to work through but their love becomes so tender and honest. draco yells at harry a lot and harry lets him and they both keep each other grounded in something real and fuCK.  - Divination for Dickheads - 7k - G: “I’m terrible at having crushes. I’ve never played anything cool a day in my life.” -- oh harry, we knOW. a bus ride, a fortune teller, an aquarium birthday party. god i love this fic. -

Modern Love by @tackytigerfic​ - 61k - E “But we’ve worked so hard at this, haven’t we? Yeah, I know it’s a horror to have to talk about it, but fuck it. We’re friends now, but it took so long to get here. Have you ever had to work so hard at something before?" --the steady blossoming of their friendship in this fic is so goddamn beautiful i want to yell. it’s draco and harry learning to trust each other and the whole thing unfolds so slowly, in this whimsical mix of london streets, wizarding politics, church halls feat. a Hot vicar, and a magical antique shop owner who’s married to literal poseidon?? goD the environment of this fic. immaculate. [also there’s a tender shower scene that makes me cry every single fucking time so if you read this fic pls dm me so we can be embarrassing about it together tbh] -

Nice Things by aideomai - 22k - M “He kept waiting for the weird shock of touch to not knock him clean out of his head, leave him quiet and warm and happy.” --8th year. harry forms an unlikely friendship with draco that begins with smoking weed on a windowsill. harry is touch-starved and draco touches him like he touches all his close friends - like it’s easy. the quiet affection in this fic, the way harry burrows himself into touch bc he’s been without it for his entire life. reading this is like being held. -

Running On Air by @tinyhistory​ - 74k - T “do you remember when we were eleven?” --alexa play coldplay’s the scientist it’s sad girl hours and we’re about to fucking yearn. you’ve seen this fic rec on every drarry list under the sun and i'm here to be redundant. the hype is so goddamn real. this story is a lyrical masterpiece held together by lines that act as refrains that will rattle around your brain until you die, probably. draco’s been missing for 3yrs. harry goes to find him. it’s their odyssey of homecoming. -

Title of Their Sex Tape by @cibeewastaken - 12k - T “But Draco, Draco was everything but boring. Draco made sitting in the rain watching an empty house fun.” --auror partners pining and draco being eccentric and harry being very earnestly gay about draco’s eccentricities!! god this fic is so genuinely fun skskd feat. undercover missions, murderous faeries, a book heist, a stunning navy dress, harry’s eyelashes. -

How We Throw Our Shadows Down by @thistle-verse - 14k - T “Draco is about to say something else— to thank Potter for what he’d done, however poorly— but Harry is smiling at him again, and it’s so soft and perfect that Draco holds in any inadequate words, lest he spoil it.” --draco collects tea cozies and of course harry has the one he wants. the sad and tender gays are at it again feat. conversations in the rain at a train station, melancholy Blaise, muggle photos, wizarding e-bay, the Dursleys.  -

Helix by Saras_Girl - 92k - E “Draco sighs in his sleep and Harry clings on to consciousness, needing to hold on, to give this tiny, insignificant moment the attention it deserves” --I think maybe you can describe every soft Saras_Girl story as giving tiny, insignificant moments the attention they deserve. like, this is an 8th year fic about snails and it’s full of whimsy, grief, compassion, and easy humor. an absolute must-read author in this genre if you want languorous, episodic fics full of distinct OCs and affectionate creatures. - other faves by them: Light up the Night Sky - 98k - M “Draco, sometimes you make my head feel like soup” --the one where harry is a fireworks artist and has a pet chameleon named ken. draco is on the wizarding arts council. they both pine like hell. - Headlights in the Snow - 71k - M “they stare at each other in silence, Harry’s heart beating so loud in his chest that he thinks the biddies must be able to hear it over the sound of their card game.” --the one where draco drives the knight bus and carts around the biddy club, a group of rambunctious old ladies who knit and drink tea and gossip. harry can’t help but fall in love with the everything about this. -

Follow the Water by @xanthippe74 - 38k - T “Harry’s heavy thoughts lift at the sight, like dark clouds blown away from the sun by the wind. The tent doesn’t feel so cramped and stifling now. It feels cozy. And safe. It’s the same feeling that Harry gets when he’s at the Burrow for Sunday roasts, when a group of people who care for each other deeply are crammed into too-small a space.” --harry wanders to the lovegood house on a sunday afternoon. he’s baffled to see that luna’s taken pansy, greg, and draco under her wing. what follows is a summer of forest walks, scavenger hunts, gardening, water fights, odd cakes, faerie rings, and picnics. so many picnics. i love the pace of this fic, the innocent return to childhood things, the way luna brings out the best in all her friends. reluctantly soft slytherins are just *chefs kiss*!! -

Going Postal (A 125pg comic) by dustmouth - T what. a. beautiful. ass. comic. the wizarding fashion, the textures, the character design!! harry travels a lot for his job as a resourcer. draco works in the regulations dept. they pine like a bunch of lovesick idiots via field report notes. god i love dustmouth’s art. -

All the Earnest Young Men by @tepre​ - 29k - E “Draco is twenty-seven layers of personality wrapped up in drama and humour, and a wit so sharp it still stings when he doesn’t see it coming. But there is something below that, too. Something that makes Harry ache just looking at him.” --the way i would lay down my little life for tepre’s characterization of draco, whom invented the word earnest. he’s a magical art theory expert and portraits are disappearing all over London and harry’s the auror assigned to this case. and well. they’re both so very avoidant about how gay they are for each other and it’s like!! shutup and kiss!! which they do in fact, shutup and kiss.  -

Trenches by sara_holmes - 3k - M “Somewhere in the distant part of his mind that hasn't frozen solid, he thinks that maybe he and Draco are about to become more than auror partners, smoking buddies, wine-mates and co-inhabitants of a snow filled trench somewhere in western Scotland.” --the plot line here is literally “it’s cold and i need a fucking cigarette” but let me tell you how I never tire of the shared loaded-silences of two emotionally repressed gays. -

The Years Before Love by lomonaaeren - 13k - M “That’s one of the meanings of peace, he thinks, as Hermione hugs him...That he can do things slowly, softly, without worrying that they won’t be there tomorrow.” --andromeda taking harry under her wing and harry finding solace in teddy. narcissa and draco showing up and the tentative relationships that slowly develop in the quiet calm of andromeda’s house. found families and kisses in the snow and special xmas gifts ugh what’s not to love -

The Moon Looks Lovely Tonight by Omi_Ohmy - 35k - M “I want this to be a house where people are welcome, where they don’t have to be any one way or another” --in which harry collects lost things--owls, best friends, inept bakers, potions experimenters--and turns the mausoleum that is grimmauld place into a home. feat. your fave drarry tropes like shared-beds and reluctant waltzing partners. -

[part 1: thrillers | part 2: dramas | part 3: soft bois | part 4: wankbanks]

#drarry fic rec #drarry fic #soft drarry #OK FINE I RAMBLED BUT WHAT DID WE EXPECT #alexa play futile devices

[detectivehannibal]

Desk Dreams

__

Hannibal Lecter x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Smut...lol have fun.

A/N: Testing my smut writing skills I see...I tried to weasel Will into this, but I’d hardly consider this a Will oneshot. I struggled so hard with this smh.

Requested by: @no-homo-hank

Prompt: also.. if i may request something sm*tty. personally i think your writing is so good. soo maybe something in his office yk yk like if the reader has a *sexy* dream about him,, and she has to tell him,, idk idk and only if you’re comfortable with it ofc! thanks :)

Word Count: 1,697

“Is it so wrong to change things up a little?”

__

You couldn’t get it out of your head. The images, the sounds, the touches, the smells. You had tried to shake it off all morning. You had brewed an extra strong cup of coffee hoping to rid your conscious of the less than appropriate dream from the night before, but to no avail. You never really had dreams, and you especially didn’t have such scandalous ones. On top of that, you definitely never had sex dreams about your therapist. 

Sure, you found him attractive in more ways than just his striking intelligence. However, the thought of anything that wasn’t purely professional had never crossed your mind. You knew what Hannibal thought about dreams. He had mentioned to you before that they are often a crucial tell-tale of a person’s mental state most of the time. That was the part you couldn’t figure out.

What did having such a racy dream mean for you?

You pondered the thought on your way to your session. You desperately wished that you didn’t have to go today, but you knew you’d be questioned about it next session if you canceled. You entered his office’s waiting room, there were no other patients at that time. You weren’t surprised, considering most people tried to push for the afternoon appointments. You took your normal seat, knowing that Dr. Lecter and Will Graham would be finished shortly. Will Graham’s appointments were always before yours, and you always noted how Will always looked as if his brain had been completely picked apart when he exited.

You often wondered what sort of things they talked about.

Sure enough, the door opened a few minutes later, Hannibal seeing Will out of his office. 

“I will see you soon, Will.” Hannibal said to Will, who had pretty much already ended the conversation. 

Will spotted you waiting and actually offered a smile. He didn’t know you outside of the waiting room, but well enough to know your name and speak to you.

“Hello, [Y/N],” He greeted, leaning in slightly; “He’s acting strangely today.” He whispered.

You gave him a confused look, but returned the greeting before he dashed off and out of the building. What did he mean by “acting strangely”? There was only one way to find out. 

“[Y/N], are you ready?” Hannibal asked, inviting you into his office.

You nodded, entering swiftly. When you passed by him, a familiar scent enriched your nose. The smell of his cologne was exquisite and suddenly sparked your memory of the dream from the night before. So that was what you smelled in the dream. You had never paid attention to it before. 

Speaking of the dream, it was suddenly all you could think about. You sat in one of his chairs, immediately striking Hannibal as out of character. He decided to hold off on mentioning it yet. 

“Good morning. How are you?” He asked, sitting in the chair in front of you.

Your leg bounced anxiously as you found yourself in a trance, raking over his features. Had his hair always been so nice? Were his eyes always so enticing? You caught his gaze, waiting for you to give an answer.

“Huh? Oh! I’m doing well.” You said, beginning to feel a heat creep over your cheeks.

His hand briefly went up to his collar to readjust his tie. You basically stopped yourself from salivating. His hands were...so perfect. 

“You’re nervous.” He announced.

You denied. You denied hard. You would not let him through to you today. You’d die of embarrassment.

“Nope. Not nervous,” You said, visibly nervous; “What makes you say that?”

His expression was calculating. He was soaking you up like a sponge to sink water, taking everything in to be squeezed out again.

“For starters, you’re sitting. You usually walk around during our sessions,” He noted; “Secondly, your entire demeanor is tense.” 

Your leg stopped bouncing and you slowly stood from your chair, you began to try and walk as you normally did, but it ended up being more of a pace. 

“Is it so wrong to change things up a little?” You asked as casually as possible.

He looked so good in that light blue shirt. 

“No, but there’s always a reason for such change.” He bantered.

You shot him a look. It was hard to get anything past him. 

“I just...” You tried to come up with an excuse, but turned up short. 

He waited patiently, his gaze never leaving yours. You sighed in defeat. 

“Dreams are normal, right?” You asked, preparing to bite the bullet.

He nodded simply.

“Certainly.” 

You chewed your lip in thought, careful with how you approached this. You fiddled with the hem of your sweater.

“I had a rather interesting dream last night,” You confessed; “It wasn’t anything I had ever experienced.”

He was listening intently, not quite following what you were getting at.

“What did you dream about?” He prompted.

You felt a sudden rise in your throat. This was painful to admit.

“Well, you were in me- uh, I mean...in it.” You said, mentally cursing at yourself for your embarrassing slip up.

A wave of realization was clear on his face as he connected the dots. You wanted nothing more than to crawl in a hole and die.

“[Y/N], I can assure you that sexual fantasy dreams are quite normal.” He said in an attempt to comfort you.

You groaned miserably, burying your face in your hands. You were humiliated. You’d have to request a different therapist. Maybe even seek out a totally different counseling practice.

“Dreams often must be explored to be understood. Tell me more about the content of this dream.” He requested calmly.

Your blood went hot. What? Why did he want to know that? You looked to him, surprised to see that he was completely serious. You rubbed your palms together nervously.

“I came in for my usual session. The energy was different. You were looking at me in a way you don’t usually,” You explained; “The conversation took a turn and...we had sex.”

His expression remained unchanged, but you weren’t close enough yet to see the fire in his eyes. He stood from his seat and took slow strides over towards you. You were sure he could hear your thumping heart.

“How was I looking at you?” He questioned, his voice thick and smooth.

That’s when you saw the riled up glaze in his eyes. A sudden wave of emotion and arousal crashed over you. This was really going to happen.

“Just like you are now.” You breathed out.

Instantly, his lips were on yours. Passionate and needy, but steady and calculated too. His hands gripped your waist, pushing you towards his desk. He shimmied you onto the cool, dark wood and allowed you to remove his suit blazer. 

Your mind was racing, but your movements were faster. You untucked his dress shirt from his pants while his fingertips worked on unbuttoning your jeans. It was a hot, heavy silence as the two of you stripped down enough to get the job done. His mouth was hot on your neck once your pants were casted aside, sucking a hickey on your most sensitive spot. 

“Dr. Lecter, I...” You trailed off, your mind too clouded with pleasure to offer any kind of sentence.

This felt so wrong, but so right at the same time. You were thankful for patient-doctor confidentiality. 

“Hannibal.” He corrected, unbuckling his belt and getting his pants down to his ankles.

Woah. First name basis. That was new. Hannibal really seemed to know his way around a woman. You found that rather shocking.

“Is this your means of dream exploration?” You joked, giving a breathy laugh.

“Something like that.” He replied.

He pulled himself from his boxers, stroking a few times before gingerly pushing himself inside of you. A synchronized moan drew from the both of you as he pushed through your walls, traveling as deep as he could go. He pushed your back down onto the desk, watching you sprawl out desperately for him.

He began with slow thrusts to allow you to adjust to his length, but hit the sweetest of spots each time he went back in. He grasped one of your legs, wrapping it around his waist so he could get a better angle. He had one hand on your throat, wrapped firmly but not uncomfortably. 

“Hannibal, please. Faster.” You begged, your tone coming out as a whine.

He hummed in response, his pace beginning to pick up. Your hands gripped the edge of the desk as the sounds of skin and rattling desk objects echoed in your ears. He admired the way your eyes glassed over in pleasure, his own forehead beginning to break out into a sweat. 

“Was this how your dream played out?” He asked, the slightest bit of strain in his voice; “On my desk...in the middle of a session.”

You nodded in response, but that wasn’t enough.

“Use your words.” He ordered, slamming back into you again.

“Yes.” You groaned out.

“Good girl.” He praised, moving his pace even faster.

This wasn’t how he’d usually pleasure a woman. He preferred something a little more timed out and slow, but you needed something spontaneous and fast. He could feel it radiating off of you. Your mind bounced back and forth from the dream to this present moment. This was too good to be true.

Your legs tightened around his waist, signaling to him that you were awfully close. He himself felt a twitch, looks like you were going to both finish on time. He continued to pound into you, your moans relentlessly sounding out into the air. Your high-pitched, surprised gasp alerted your release, his own spilling out just a few moments later. 

Your moans and sounds dwindled into heavy breathing, your chests heaving to catch up. He collapsed onto your shaky frame, your hand resting in his hair. You could barely comprehend what had just happened. You suddenly had a whole new reason to come to therapy. Hannibal lifted his head, pride written all over his face.

“I think...we’ll pick this back up next week.”

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #Hannibal TV #hannibal imagine #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter imagine #hannibal lecter imagines #hannibal lecter request #detectivehannibal

[mrsmaybank]

Honey - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer and the reader were very much in love during Reid’s brief stint in Pasadena. When he has to see her again on a case, he is super nervous. 

a/n: first section is inspired by such great heights 

C/W: Swearing

PASADENA - 2002 

A note from the love of your life is a lovely way to wake up. 

------

When you can understand everything but yourself, finding somebody who does is like seeing a comet; disappointingly rare. My shaky hands can only be stilled by the smile of my most incandescent--in every connotation--creature, and that is you. The universe always seems to know what it is doing even if humanity does not. The stars align and move in patterns we as it’s audience do not fully understand. I think we have watched the stars so much the universe has aligned us as a favor to our poor, overestimated souls. I am so grateful!  Tolstoy noted that "We are asleep until we fall in love!” And I thank you for waking me up.

However I thought it best the favor not be returned this particular morning. You were up late last night, and looked too cute to disrupt. Do not kill me, I am getting coffee. 

I love you and do not leave the bed.  

-Spencer

------

Only Spencer Reid would write that on a sticky note, and only for you would he do so. 

You heard the rattling of keys and a door being opened and shut as Spencer made his way back to your bedroom. The smile you saw on his face was the start of a story that ended on the upturn of your lips, revealing the two protagonists in a mad frenzy of love. As soon as he reached you, your lips pressed to his in a desperation to be impossibly closer. 

“Hi.” he said. 

I am thinking it's a sign

That the freckles in our eyes

Are mirror images

And when we kiss they're perfectly aligned

“Hey love.” you tucked a loose brown hair back behind his ear for a closer look at the face you adored. “Please get back in bed.” 

He sighed but crawled in next to you, big nimble hands making their way across your torso to diminish the space in between you two. You nuzzled into his chest. 

“Your note was beautiful.” you whispered into his ear.

A big, goofy grin spread along his face.

“I meant every word.” his voice so sweet, it sounded dipped in honey. 

Honey is incredibly sticky. 

-----

There had to have been a world where it all worked out. 

In this world, my things never got old, and the ice cubes in my coffee never melted. I could listen to that song over and over again without draining the life out of it and I could like my hair style for more than three months. 

Spencer had read to me the greatest works of the world. Words of the greatest thinkers, authors, and minds. He had an appreciation for them greater than those of the average passerby and I adored that, because so did I. Truly, our similarities are what connected us. Our minds were correlated perfectly when it came to subjectivity. 

In accordance to human nature however, certain matters were never agreed upon. In particular, we argued about the future. The canyon of discrepancy so vast it tore us and our love in two. I didn’t think that was possible.

I wanted to write the book and watch the film as I lived my life and he and his arrogant over-practically thought that impossible. He thought himself an oneirocritic, but my dreams were not looking for critiques. 

Like I said, Spencer read to me the greatest works of the world. And years would pass and the heartbreak and sorrow would fade, but I would always find it ironic how the last thing I ever heard in that honey soaked voice was a work of Confucius.  “Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart.”

Spencer chose to go to Washington. He took his heart and a piece of mine with him.

-----

BAU JET - 2011

Seaver must’ve noticed my flinch when the sound of her name resonated through the jet. I’d never liked going to California, but this...this had never happened.  “That name mean something to you Reid?” She smiled, “You look kind of horrified.” 

I ran my hands through my hair in a futile attempt to ground myself. “No. I just...I used to know her.” 

In between the fine lines of love and hate, fell a blurry midsection where feelings came before logic and screams and whispers sounded the same. She ruled over this midsection of chaotic emotional fury. 

Morgan spoke, and I quickly realized I might be falling into a conversation I really did not want to be having. “How the hell d’you know her pretty boy?” 

There was no point in lying on a plane completely occupied by profilers. My best option was to clumsily dodge any direct questions about just how well I knew her.

“I’m from the West coast.” 

“So are over 50 million people. You mean to tell me you know all of them?” he laughed.

“The exact estimation is actually 53,492,270. And no, I’m not saying I know all of them, Morgan. I lived in Pasadena for a year after I graduated from Caltech.”

“Okay?” Morgan questioned my previous statements relevancy. 

“She went to USC. We were in the same social circle.” 

Morgan laughed again, “You had a social circle?” 

Emily, next to us, was presumably combing through her file.

“You, ultimate three doctorate dorky dork, were in the same circle as a film major?” she asked. “

What the hell is ‘doctorate dorky dork’ supposed to mean?

“She double majored actually. Film and political science.”

Emily double checked the file, “And Reid’s right. Per usual.” 

“Reid and Prentiss, Y/L/N has agreed to talk to us in her home. She lives in the Hills. When we land, you guys go talk to her.” Hotch stated. 

“Why?” I said before I could stop myself. The team sat in confused silence in reaction to my bluntness, but Hotch, like always, was not having it. 

“Because we have a serial killer that is reenacting the murders in her movie, Reid.” his tone was stern and swift, with a patronizing sarcasm I supposed I deserved. 

“Sorry,” I got out, “I guess I just meant..why me?” 

“Well, you know her don’t you?” Rossi asked. 

I was not ready to divulge the personal details between me and this girl to my entire team, so I just pursed my lips and nodded. 

“Right. Sorry.” 

----

Life is not a spectacle or a feast; it is a predicament. George Santayana. I was in the biggest fucking predicament I’d ever encountered in my life. 

Nothing could slow the incessant, double time pounding in my chest. I was showing symptoms of the beginning of a heart attack. Hopefully I would die and never have to face this.

Fuck, don’t think that.

Have the seats in these cars always been this uncomfortable? God, is California always this hot?

I looked at Emily for half a second, and instantly recognized that keeping quiet from her was proving to be dysfunctional. I could feel her eyes burning into my brain with every profiling skill she knew.

“What are you not saying Reid?” 

I sighed. “Do I have to tell you?” 

“Yeah. Unless you want me to just find out on my own. It’ll be a lot less delicate.” 

Here goes nothing. 

“I dated her. For two years. I was very much in love with her. It ended....abruptly. I haven’t spoken to her since, and now, nine years later, I am on my way to her house. I might have a heart attack.” 

Emily's eyes widened, “Shit..” She laughed a little, “Reunited at last?.” 

I answered with a glare. Hard no.

“Fine, sorry.” She said, masking a giggle with a cough.

I shifted in my seat and I could practically see the gears in Emily’s profiler cerebrum spin. She knew exactly the question to ask. “Is it nerves?”  

I nodded my head, “I was a very different person back then.” 

“Nothing like time and the bureau can change somebody.” she said. “But, hey..”She smiled again and my eyes widened when I realized what I’d revealed. “I asked you if you were nervous. I didn’t-” 

“Emily..” I started. 

“Are you nervous she won’t like you now? Do you still like her?” her mouth hung open, “Oh my god Reid!” 

I shook my head, “No, I don’t still like her! I don’t even know her anymore! I just..I’d never loved somebody the way I loved her.” 

Emily had figured me out at the same time I had. “And you still haven’t.” 

Fuck.

“Correct.” 

The car pulled into her driveway, and conversations from all those years ago started to replay in my head. 

“When we get a house, can we paint our front door bright blue?” 

“I want a lemon tree in the front yard.” 

“Windows. Huge windows. It’s a must.” 

All these things I’d promised her in our future home she’d gotten for herself. Good. 

Fontaine said “Sadness flies away on the wings of time”, but the pain I felt from the loss of her was as prominent as ever. 

Here goes nothing. 

---

Thank you for reading!

a/n2 :  this is completely unedited so if its sucks dick i am sorry :/ i just wanted to post it lol

A/n 3: the typos oh my fuck. I wanna Kick myself for letting this cute fic  be up in that state for so long. Anyway, fixed! :) 

#spencer reid #drspencerreid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid reader insert #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you

[uselessidiotsquad]

Character Interview: Elder Parteira

INTRODUCTION:

1. Can you introduce yourself?

- My name's Parteira, it gets the title 'Elder' stuck onto it more often than not these days. Apparently, managing to not die gets you more titles. I work with expecting mothers and their cubs. You might also hear me called 'Party'. You're only allowed to call me that if I've pulled you out of the seam of your mother.

2.  What is your gender identity, orientation and relationship status?

- I'm single, the rest of it frankly isn't any of your business. Not looking to change that either. Do you know how much time that wastes? I got more important things to be doing than pandering to doe-eyes and flirts.

3. Where and when were you born?

- Olmakhan born and bred. The fact that 'elder' is part of list of nonsense that gets tagged onto my name should be a clue for age, cub.

4. What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?

- Eh? Fighting? I mean most of my tribe isn't a huge fan of fighting but I'm not reserved about giving some flabby-mawed idiot a good walloping if they need it. I have a greatsword, but I don't use it anymore. Too hard on my shoulders. Mainly stick with swords, scepters, and things that aren't so heavy.

5. Lastly, are you happy?

- Happy? Happy!? Would you be happy if you found out the rest of your kind sees your whole way of life and field of devotion to be unnecessary? No, I'm not happy. But I'm not gonna let that stop me from doing what needs to be done.

FAMILY AND FRIENDS:

1. What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them?

- At this point, I've outlived most of them. Guess that means I win, hah! Brother was captured by Inquest, it ended about as well as you'd expect. Folks have long since returned to Nature.

2. Have you ever ran away from home?

- I haven't. Didn't really think there was anything else besides where I lived, when I was young. Got that rattled right out of me.

3. Would you consider marriage or having children?

- No. And I have all the children I could ever want and then some. Half the bloody village calls me Ma or Party. I've either raised or helped care for most of these mangy idiots (she says it with affection).

4. Do you secretly hate one of your friends?

- Eh? Wouldn't even bother to call them a 'friend' if I hated them, that's kinda a pointless question.

5. Which friend knows everything about you?

- That would be my nephew, he's still back at the village. My brother's kid, basically one of the few relatives I have that is still living. He's a good cub, kind and decent. Bit naive but everyone's like that when they're young.

ASKED BY FANS:

1.  Are you literate? Have you been to school?

- Most of our traditions are oral and handed down through word of mouth and story. So yes in some ways, no in the ways that you're talking about. Easy for other people to call our tribe 'primitive' when they're the ones setting the rules, isn't it?

2.  The eeriest prediction you made that later came true?

- That change was coming one way or another. Other elders like to whistle and pretend to be birds with their heads in the clouds about it. Change found us, just wish we'd been more ready for it.

3. What is something you were embarrassingly late to realize?

- I hadn't realized that the Legion Charr still kept up those damn archaic ways of teaching and rearing cubs, until just recently. Sure, I thought maybe they were a little behind but I hadn't realized they were still in war and blood and gears mode still. Operating on 2 whole brain cells one says fight the other says fu- (she cuts herself off). Well, you get the idea.

4. Do you have mental health or physical issues?

- Shoulder's bum from carrying cubs and doing heavy lifting for a long time. Nature's been good to me otherwise.

5. What is your current main goal?

- (she slams a paw down on the table loudly and looks the speaker in the eye) To teach those empty-skulled assholes that are beating their cubs in the Fahrar that times have changed and they need to get with it or get gone. And I am gonna be the solution to that either way. Brainwashed and beat up cubs just raise more brainwashed and beat up cubs and I'm putting an end to it.

CHOICES:

1. Drink or food?

- Food. Love me some good smoked fish.

2. Cats or dogs?

- Dogs. Good for keeping alarms up.

3. Early bird or night owl?

- Early bird, whether I wanted it or not. Years of getting up at the blink of dawn because some cub is crying just sticks.

4. Optimist or pessimist?

- Realist.

5. Sassy or sarcastic?

- Sarcastic.

HAVE YOU EVER:

1.  Been caught sneaking out

- Never snuck out, saw other people do it and get caught and decided it wasn't worth it.

2.  Broke a bone

- Broke one of my toes by dropping a rock on it accidentally. Was carrying stuff to help make a new building and it slipped.

3. Received flowers

- My nephew used to bring me some when he was young, he'd go around the island and collect a bunch of things he thought were nice and bring them as a gift. Could've been anything from dandelion puffs, to pretty shells, to some feathers he found. It was cute.

4.  Ghosted someone

- What's that? (it's explained to her, she shakes her head in annoyance) That's a stupid move. If you don't like someone just say it. Waste of time.

5. Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get

- Not really. I just pretend I didn't hear it.

#Elder Parteira #Olmakhan Midwife #Party Charr #gw2 #ocs #Charr #guild wars 2 #character interview #Parteira #Nanny Cat to the rescue #her maternal side is not reserved for charr anyone young that she doesn't feel is getting treated right gets The Party

[phykios]

Ain’t No Sunshine, modern royalty, 1970s au [read on ao3] thank you as always to my darling @darkmagyk for taking a true story off the rails

May 3rd, 1979. The date seemed to jump off the page, the loud, bold text almost mocking her. 

Not that she was keeping track, but it was just about four years to the day.

She’d woken up this morning, feeling kind of off, wandering around her apartment in a daze as she hustled her children out the door for daycare, losing time on her bus commute to work. It wasn’t until lunch, as she took the time to go through her day planner, that she realized: four years ago was when she had last seen Percy Jackson.

Though why Annabeth was thinking about him right this second was anyone’s guess.

Oh, sure, she’d thought about him a lot all throughout her pregnancy--thought about him, cursed his name, dreamed of strangling him for leaving her alone with these two absolute terrors--but as the years had gone by, and she had lost all hope of ever making contact with him again, he’d sort of fallen by the wayside of her thoughts. Something must have been going on with the navy mail system, because absolutely none of the letters or postcards she’d sent had ever been received, and she couldn’t reach out to Sally, since Annabeth had lost her address as well. 

There was always the possibility that he… well, that he wasn’t around to receive letters anymore. But she tried not to think about it. 

She tried her best not to think about him at all, these days.

Today, however, her childhood best friend turned US navy midshipman had popped up on her internal radar, and had just decided to take up residence in her brain. Her normally mind-numbing job couldn’t even properly distract her, and she spent all afternoon daydreaming about his messy, perpetually windswept hair, and his toothy, contagious smile, and his gorgeous green eyes like she was some kind of pathetic, lovestruck teenager, obsessing over her rockstar crush. Taking calls, scheduling appointments, and dodging the creepy advances of the assistant CFO were slightly more palatable if she had something pleasant to think about. 

Old-fashioned romance was for suckers, anyway. Who needed it? 

At least it was Friday. Fridays were KFC days, and she really did not need to accidentally burn dinner today. Again.

She hated it, but her kids loved it. God knows they could barely stomach whatever she usually attempted.

She sent them to bed early-ish, and settled down in front of the TV with a glass of wine. She didn’t usually indulge, but she had had such a weird day, she felt she deserved it. 

Taking a long, long sip, she could no longer deny it: she really fucking missed Percy.

She missed him like she’d miss a missing limb, and it was all the more cruel because she’d lost him once, and miraculously found him again, on that fateful trip home from Athens. A military brat stuck at the American naval base in Spain to save money, waiting for a spare seat to open up on a plane so she could go home, by the sheer force of luck, she’d practically tripped and fallen into the lap of her childhood best friend. 

And then she did trip into his lap. And then into his bed. And stupid, stupid, Annabeth, she’d always been so bad with her birth control.

Her little boy, he had blond hair, but sometimes he would look at her, or laugh at something, or drool in his sleep just like his daddy, and Annabeth thought she might just fucking die from it.

She loved her children, of course, how could she not? But she wasn’t about to deny it--sometimes, alone in parenthood, juggling dishes and laundry and schoolwork and life, she felt like she was drowning.

Sharp, piercing, the doorbell rang, knocking her out of her reverie. A little tipsy, still in her rumpled work clothes, she set the glass aside, and made her way to the door. “Mr. D,” she said, opening it, prepared speech all ready to go, “I told you, I’d have the rent for you by--”

She stopped, blinking, speechless. It was not Mr. D.

“Hey,” said the man outside her door. The ghost from another world that she had, apparently, conjured with her thoughts.

“...Hey.”

He smiled, a little strained, the light of the streetlamps casting harsh shadows on his face. “It’s good to see you.” 

“How did you know where I lived?” It was, perhaps, not the most elegant thing to say, but she hadn’t exactly planned for what would happen when Percy Jackson, love of her life, father of her children, long-lost best friend wandered back into her life.

“Can I come in? Maybe for a Coke or something?” he asked, not answering her question. 

She almost wanted to say no. For every letter never returned, for every month gone by without a word, for every day spent raising their children without him, not knowing if he was alive or dead--she almost said no. 

But this was Percy. She could spare him a Coca Cola at least. “Sure,” she said, leaning away, “come on.”

“Great,” he said, and this time, his smile was all real. 

So focused had she been on him, she hadn’t even clocked the older man who stood behind him. “Sir,” said the other man, with the air of a beleaguered secretary--and Annabeth would know, “I really must advise--”

“I’ll just be a minute,” said Percy, not even bothering to look back at him, pushing past Annabeth’s half-extended arm.

“But, sir, your father--”

Percy let the door shut in his face.

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. “Harsh.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, well… I’ll make it up to him later.”

“Who is he?”

But Percy didn’t answer. “Nice place you got here.”

He was being nice, of course. It was a craphole apartment in a craphole side of town--but the rent was cheap and the bus was convenient, and she only felt the slightest bit of shame as she led him to the craphole couch, handing him a coke from her craphole fridge. Christ, his suit looked like it cost more than her TV.

“Is your… husband home?” he asked, delicate.

“My what?”

“Your husband. I saw, um…” Embarrassed, he flicked his eyes to the ring on her left hand. 

“Oh, this? It’s--it’s not--” Hastily, clumsily, she fumbles it off, pulling around the knuckle. “I’m not--I’m not.”

He blinked. “Oh.”

“Yeah, I just--it’s to ward off creepy guys, right? Like, they won’t take no for an answer unless they think they’ll have to deal with an angry husband, so I just…” 

In her more pathetic moments, she pretended that it had been given to her by the man before her. She had picked something small and simple, something that she thought he might have gone with, and pretended he had slipped it into her pocket the day she left the naval base. 

“That’s--cool. That’s great, I mean. I mean, that’s--”

“What do you want, Percy?”

Not at all bothered by the shortness of her tone, he sighed, closing his eyes. “I have a… personal question I need to ask you. And I’m sorry to bother you with this, I just--I have to ask.”

Ominous. “Okay?”

“Did we…” He sighed again, mouth twisting. “Did you, as a result of our repeated sexual encounters four years ago, happen to have any children by me?”

He just rattled it off, as if it was something he’d said over and over and over again, tired of receiving the same answer, but never expecting anything different.

“Excuse me?”

“I know, I know, it’s an extremely rude question, and I know I have no right to ask you, especially since it’s been so long, but I swear, there’s a reason I--”

“Did you never get any of the letters I sent you?”

At that, his head shot up. The look in his eyes could only be described as ‘terror.’ “What?”

“I must have sent you half a dozen,” she said, crossing to the kitchen, the wine making her a little bit short. She had, in fact, sent him eight letters, with pictures, and never received a single response, but since he seemed genuinely lost, she decided not to tell him. Plucking the most recent photo down from the fridge, she returned to the man in her living room, his knuckles white around the can. 

Standing before him, she handed him the photograph. He took it, fingers shaking. “We… you…” 

“Percy Jackson,” she said, like she was introducing him to someone at a party, “meet your children.”

Even after they had just been born, Annabeth had seen how obviously they were his. Only their daughter had the same messy black hair, both both had the same long, straight nose, the same intense, brooding brow as their father--and when her son smiled, or her daughter laughed, it was hard not to see the shades of Percy so strongly in them. It was hard to see them, too. 

Percy’s mouth was trembling. His eyes were wide, glassy, fixed on the photo. “My--” he swallowed. “What--what are their names?”

“Alexander,” she said, softly, “and Anne--”

“Annemarie,” he breathed. “Alexander and Annemarie.” He looked up at her, his eyes shining. “You remembered?”

Of course she remembered. Two lonely kids, she and Percy had spent so much of their childhood together, playing house, building their perfect family, even if only in their imagination. Alexander for his mother’s cousin, and Annemarie because he had wanted to name their  daughter Annabeth, and she wouldn’t let him. Twenty years later, alone and in pain, holding her newborn children and alternately cursing the man who made them and desperately wishing he were with her, Annabeth had known that they could only have one set of names, even if their father might never meet them. 

His face crumpled. He dropped his head into his hand, and groaned, like someone had pressed on an open wound. 

“Percy!” Annabeth sat down next to him, one hand on his shoulder, the other on his leg. Four years later and it still felt so natural to touch him like this. “Are you okay?”

Nodding, he grunted. “Yeah,” he croaked, voice hoarse, “I’m okay. I’m fine. I just--” And then he shuddered, a hand coming up to scrub at his eyes. 

He was crying, she realized suddenly. Annabeth used to be the one that cried. She could count on one hand how many times she’d seen him cry. He hadn’t even cried when she had finally left the naval base. 

Taking a shaking breath, he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his expensive suit. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, shattered. “I didn’t--I never--if I had known, I swear, I would have left the navy. I would have come home.”

The silent, unspoken “to you” echoed in the dead air of her apartment. “Why didn’t you?” she asked, quietly.

They held each other’s eyes, an eternity passing in a heartbeat. Neither wanted to break the sacred silence, to bring words into the crystalline moment that hung in the balance between them. 

“I never got your letters,” he said, tears in his eyes. “I… after you--left, I…” he sighed, aching. “I… got hurt. Bad.” 

Annabeth couldn’t breathe. 

“And,” he huffed a laugh, wet and messy, “and then I met my father. Can you believe it?”

Her eyes bugged out of her head. “You what?”

He nodded.

“He’s alive?” 

Sally rarely spoke of him, and Percy had always refused to. Annabeth had just assumed he had died, years and years and years ago. 

Percy laughed again, humorless. “He’s the king of Thera.”

Her jaw dropped. “He…”

“Yeah.”

“Are you shitting me?”

Shaking his head, he smiled, rueful. “I wish.”

Words from a half-remembered newscast floated through her mind. Alexander and Annemarie had been right terrors that night, and she had only been half-listening as the reporter informed the world that Triton, hereditary prince of Thera, had died, killed in military action. “He… found you?”

Percy nodded, miserable. “He told me--asked--told me to--to find anyone I might have…” And then he swallowed, tears in his eyes again, real, glistening tears. “And I am so, so sorry, I know--I know your job is here, and your whole life, and the children, but I--”

She took his hand in hers, squeezing gently so he didn’t fly away. “It’s okay,” she said. “Just say it.”

“I’m supposed to--I’m supposed to… if you would… come with me,” he trailed off, suddenly shy. 

For the second time tonight, she felt like she’d been hit with a sledgehammer. “...What?”

“He… my father… the king wants--needs heirs. He… he asked for a list of women, and I… gave him your name.” Stomach hot, Annabeth wished she had the courage to know about the other women on that list. Or to ask  why Percy, young and handsome as he’d been at both twelve and twenty, wasn’t out there making some new ones himself. Why was he chasing down old leads? Why was he chasing down Chase bastards? “You’d--you’d live in the castle,” he said, like he was trying to sell her on it, though she could tell his heart wasn’t really in it, “and we, well, we’d technically have to get married, but that doesn’t need to be a big deal. You’d get your own rooms. You can set them up however you want. And you’d have a personal staff, a stipend, and the kids would get private teachers, and--”

“Staff?”

He blinked, caught off guard. “Yes?”

Staff. Someone to do the laundry and clean the dishes. Someone to cook dinner and look after the house. Someone to help. Someone to do all the parental things that she just could not do, not by herself. Not without him. 

“I know I have no right to ask this of you,” he said, squeezing her hand. His hand was just as big as she remembered, and just as warm. “And I would never, ever force you to do anything that you wouldn’t want to--”

“Yes,” she said, interrupting him. 

He blinked, dumbly. “What?”

“Yes. I’ll come with you. We all will.”

“...Oh. Uh, great. That’s--that’s good. Are you sure?” He looked like a lost little dolphin, eyes huge and uncertain, and then, Annabeth did the one thing that she’d been desperately wanting to do for the last four years. 

She pulled his face to hers, and she kissed him. Shocked, he stiffened, almost pulling away--before relaxing into her, cupping her face in his big, warm hand. Eyes closed, they leaned their heads against each other, sharing air once more for the first time in years. She had lost him twice already: once as a child, when her father had decided to move her across the country, and once as a lovestruck college girl, when she had to leave the naval base, four years ago. She wasn’t about to lose him for a third time. 

And for the first time in forever, she no longer felt like she was drowning.

#my fic #pjo fic #pjo #percabeth #percabeth fic #au #the rivalry ends here #the au which we have affectionately named 'chop chop' #for... reasons... #darkmagyk #perseannabeth

[ashintheairlikesnow]

*Shoves a bag of interest on your lap* GIVE US TH LAMB!!!

Also: Definitely VERY interested in your Lamb Cult story 👀

Also also: Let me see the lamb himself (respectfully)

WELL THEN I WILL

CW: Isolation, captivity, a sort of internal dehumanization, chained, religious imagery, cult whump, referenced creepy whumper being a creep

When the tapping came on the basement's single barrow rectangular window, the Lamb at first stayed silent. The world outside was pitch-black, that much he could see as he watched the sliver of light from outside slowly die with the sunset.

Once the light was gone, he had just a flashlight and the pastor's books, boxes and shelves of them to memorize and repeat back on command and his brain was full of words he hated.

But at least they were words.

At least they were the darker shadows inside his mind.

He read as long as he could, eyes squinted, vision blurry, and then he gave up.

The Lord disdains an idle hand, the pastor always said, and he'd broken the Lamb's fingers once when he'd refused at first to memorize the prophecies. They hurt sometimes still when it rained.

He did his reading, now. He was good.

When the sound of the taps at the window came, he was laying on his bed in the corner, copper hair lank and lifeless across his pillow, staring ahead and slowly rubbing his feet together under the blankets, soothing himself with the sensation, one small movement that no one could take from him.

Not yet.

The rattling at least was muffled, this way. Not loud enough to get anyone's attention.

The Lamb swallowed, and waited.

Three taps wasn't enough. But sure enough, after a pause, another three came. Precise, the weight of a full second between them.

He pushed back the blankets and sat up, hissing at the pain of the bruises and welts layered down his back. Self-flagellation, the actions of a saint, the pastor said. A true saint will purge themselves of impurities before the Lord. Some were bandaged, but mostly the pastor never forced him to draw blood.

The Lamb's blood is sacred, sweetheart. You are our divinity made flesh. Your blood cannot be wasted It has to be saved, to be sanctified, to be spilled only when the time is right-

"Stop it," He muttered to himself, standing up, bare feet on the chilled concrete floor. "Stop, stop letting him in your head." Everything in this room dipped slowly towards the small drain in the center, where the impure blood washed away.

"I'm not a saint," He whispered. He could almost feel the pastor's hand on his shoulder, thumb rubbing too hard into the back of his neck.

Of course you are, Lamb.

"I, I have a name." More whispering. Not that it did him any good. The pastor slept in his own house, now. The Lamb was alone.

Or... Not quite.

The tapping came again, and the Lamb moved, the chain attached to his ankle cuff dragging behind him with a long, slow scrape. Like a protesting snake, he thought. A serpent, but without temptation.

He would have damned himself to be anywhere but here. He tried, once. He prayed every night that the serpent would come and tempt him with the riches of the world, so he could say, I don't need any of it, just get me out of here.

He had to clamber up on a couple of stacked boxes to reach the window, his fingers struggling to press just right to unlock it, pushing back to open. The air outside smelled like lilacs.

It must have become spring.

When had it stopped being winter? When had the season changed? Last he remembered there had been snow. Right?

"Hey," A soft, deep voice said, and the Lamb's throat nearly closed. The only voice he ever heard that wasn't the pastor's or his secretary's. The only one who risked ending up down here with him, or worse, ending up like his parents.

"Hi," He said, forcing his mom and dad out of his mind. He didn't think about them anymore. He couldn't. "What'd you, you, you-you bring me?"

Blue eyes sparkled, the moonlight sapping all the color from them, as plastic crinkled. He could see the flash of white teeth in a faint smile, the negative-image view of black hair blocking out the night sky.

"Food fit for a heretic, of course," Liam said, and the Lamb took the rounded little package like manna from heaven, pulling it close to smell.

"Snack cakes," He breathed, nearly teary with gratitude. "Thank, thank you."

"Anything for the risen savior," Liam said, and they laughed, but only in nearly-soundless huffs of breath. If Liam was caught sneaking him food...

"I'm, I'm not the the fucking messiah," He said, and wished he had the courage to say it to the pastor ever again. But they both knew he never would. Not after what happened last time.

"Yeah, but you play one so well on church TV." Liam waited a beat, listening to the Lamb eat, not bothering to be quiet or polite, scarfing down the simple treat he wasn't allowed. Impure food. Once the Lamb handed the plastic wrapped back over, no evidence left behind, he said softly, "You should know. Pastor said today apostates are sniffing around again. I'm... I'm going to make contact."

The Lamb looked up, trying to see enough of Liam's face to search it. "Lee, you know what, what, what h-happened when my parents-"

"I know. But... I have to try. If I can-... If I can find a way out-"

"Take me," The Lamb whispered, barely able to bring himself to ask. To beg. To plead for some way out.

Is this the serpent's temptation? The world, but it costs my soul and damns everyone in Hollow Springs? Am I being tempted by worldly things? Is this even Liam or is it the Devil wearing his face?

He didn't care. He didn't care anymore. He never cared. He always just wanted... He just wanted home.

"Please, Lee." His voice shook with tears. "Please ask, ask them to to to-to take me, too."

Tagging @vickytokio @wildfaewhump @boxboysandotherwhump who expressed interest! Also @astrobly @burtlederp and @finder-of-rings who asked to be tagged in all things.

#the cult thing #whump #captivity #referenced creepy whumper #creepy whumper #religious whump #religious imagery #isolation #chained up #defiant whumpee #brainwashing #cults tw #light dehumanization #disordered eating tw #not really but the description of impure food counts i think #religious whumper

[writingtoforgetreality]

You’re A Winchester? - Part Two (Castiel x Winchester!Reader)

[Supernatural-Masterlist]

Part One

Summary: The case in Wisconsin got complicated. In more ways than one. Cas was not sure what happened to you but you were acting different. He had to find out why. He had to know if he did something wrong.

Words: 4,053

Warnings: language, kidnapping, angst, little bit of fluff?, Sam has the brains, angels are dicks, I feel like this could actually become a miniseries?, Do you want me to continue? I’m not sure…, (Y/E/C) = your eye color

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

The drive to Wisconsin was slow & exhausting. Throughout the long hours, you did some more research on the case. It looked like an easy one, actually. Almost too easy for your liking. But who were you to bad talk an easy hunt? After all, you were still somewhat new to this business. Though, nobody would realize that. If they did not know, they would believe you had been hunting for your entire life.

“We’re almost there.” Cas broke the silence that had been accompanying the two of you for a while. A look out of the window & you could make out the small town you were rolling in. Almost immediately, a strange feeling washed over you. By the way Cas’ body tensed up, you knew he had a similar impression of this place.

“Cas?” you questioned. No way would this turn out to be an easy case.

“Yes, I know.” he soothed your thoughts a little. Something was off & neither you nor Cas could tell what it was. Not yet, at least. The ’78 Lincoln Continental Mark V came to a halt in the parking lot of an old-fashioned motel. Same old, same old. Back in your universe, you had never had enough money to afford an actual hotel so usually, the cheap version had to do. So, not that much had changed.

The two of you checked into a room, not bothering to get one with two beds since Castiel did not sleep anyway. The motel literally looked like every single other one across the country. Same uncomfortable bed, same ugly wallpaper, same ancient furniture. Moments like this, you missed the bunker an awful lot. Deciding to give your brothers a call, you dialed Sam’s number.

“(Y/N), hey! You already there?” Sam’s voice came through the speaker.

“Yep, it took forever.” sighing out tiredly, you plopped down onto the mattress. “I gotta say, though…something seems a little off.”

“As in…?” he inquired curiously.

“We don’t know yet.” your head was put into your hand. The traveling tired you out & you craved a few hours of rest.

“Okay. And besides that? Everything alright? It’s not…weird, is it?” it almost sounded like he was uncomfortable while asking this question.

“Should it be weird?” your eyebrows furrowed at his use of words.

“I don’t know, you tell me.” you could hear the smirk in his tone. That was when the realization kicked in.

“You’re talking about me being alone with Cas?” looking around, you were glad that the angel was still outside, grabbing your luggage.

“I might be.” Sam mumbled, then his voice got louder again. “Look, all I’m saying is take care & uh, use protection.”

“Oh my God, Sam.” shaking your head frantically, there was another sigh from you. “I’ll call when we’re done here. You’re a horrible brother, by the way.” your body was on fire. Embarrassed that now, even Sam called you out on your crush.

“I love you, too. Bye, (Y/N).” the call ended & you fell back onto the mattress. A second later, the door opened & Cas walked in. At least he missed that talk with Sam. Otherwise it would be painfully awkward between you guys.

In the morning, Cas & you went to investigate a family. They were close to the person that had been mysteriously killed & you hoped to receive a bit more background information from them. The couple seemed nice. Wealthy husband being incredibly happy with his beautiful wife. An apple pie life. Like the one Dean wanted Cas & you to have. Obviously, that would never be the case. Not when you were part of this business. Not when you were a hunter. When they offered, you thanked them for the coffee they brought you. Something that Cas could drink as well. The talk was not necessarily helpful. Nothing you had not already found out yourselves. Still, you acted politely towards them. After all, they had been very hospitable. Before leaving the house, you asked if you could use their bathroom. The man showed you the way. This family was not connected to your case, not in a way that helped you anyway. Which meant that you had to do more research. Yay. Finishing in the bathroom, you were confused when the door did not open. Like it was stuck. Rattling on the door knob a few times, you used your other hand to knock on the door. You had to bring their attention to you. But it seemed like nobody heard you. The bathroom was not that far away from the living room area so it did not make sense to you that they did not hear you in there. The lock clicked & you sighed out in content when the man who had lead you here helped you out a second time today. Your warm, thankful smile faltered when something hard hit your head. Darkness met your body after that.

Heavy eyelids opened slowly. The light blinded you & out of instinct, you squinted to avoid it. After a few more seconds, you adjusted to the light. Looking around, you found yourself inside an unfurnished room. The chair you sat on the only piece. But wait. Your wrists were tied to the armrests. Your legs strapped as well. Tightly. Painfully tight. No matter your efforts, it did not move an inch. How did you get here? Where was Cas? Looked like your assumptions about this family were wrong. Because kidnapping was not part of your plan. And you being trapped here changed your entire view of this case drastically. That strange feeling you had in this town was not for nothing. But who were you up against? No vengeful spirts, no demons, no witches. What else could it be?

“Would you look at that, the princess is awake.” the same man from earlier entered the room, a creepy smile adorning his features. It made you gulp. Your heart quickened its pace. You were skilled when it came to fighting but right now, there was not a lot of room left to move around. Which left you vulnerable.

“Aw, honey. You scared her. Can’t you see the fear in her eyes?” his wife followed, that sweet voice of hers erupting the room.

“(Y/N)…Can I call you (Y/N)?” the only response he got was a deathly glare from you. One, that made him chuckle enthusiastically. “The newest addition to the Winchesters. Leaving her universe behind to go live with her brothers.” he recapped the last months for you as if you had forgotten already. “You shouldn’t even be here.” remarking with sympathetic eyes, he walked closer to you. Kneeling down so you were on one level.

“You see…we wouldn’t care much for you. Another Winchester do deal with? Okay, fine. But there’s one thing we cannot accept.” the woman spoke up again.

“And what would that be?” sarcastically asking, looking between the pair in front of you.

“We can’t have you close to Castiel.” the kneeling man finished. Your expression turned into one of confusion. “Don’t play innocent here, sweetheart. We’re not that stupid.”

“You’re angels.” you concluded after piecing everything together. “That case in Wisconsin. It was a trap so you guys could get to me.”

“100 points for our contestant.” the woman fake cheered.

“You know, there would’ve been easier ways to catch me.”

“True but where would the fun be in that? Besides, we couldn’t have you close to those brothers of yours. Too protective over you for my liking.”

“Okay, Mister. But you do realize that Cas is here somewhere & he’ll try everyth-“

“Ah, I’ll stop you right there.” his finger lifted to shut you up. “You cannot reach him here. It’s…how do I say it? Castiel safe.”

“What do you want from me then? You wanna kill me?” though it was hard, you tried to hide how scared you truly were right now.

“I know you’re smarter than that, (Y/N). If we wanted you dead, we would’ve killed you already. Castiel would be after us if we did. We simply wanted to warn you. Stay close to him & you’ll regret it.” his threat was intimidating.

“How do you define close?” it was a legitimate question.

“You know what we mean…This room will be Castiel safe for a bit longer. After that, you can pray to him & he’ll hear you. If I were you, I’d think of a good excuse in the meantime. Don’t forget…one wrong move & we’ll be back. Goodbye, (Y/N).” & with that, the two of them left you alone. They did not tell you when it was possible to send out a prayer. They did not tell you where you were exactly. All you knew was that they were serious. And you should not mess with them. When Dean had told you that angels were dicks, you did not think that was what he was warning you about. Their condition was simple. You should stay away from Cas or you would regret it. And you assumed that these angels were a lot stronger than you could handle. You did not want to die & neither did you want to risk Cas’ well-being. Immediately, you started prayer after prayer. He had to hear it sooner or later. All you could do now was try.

It felt like days passed. Hundreds, thousands of prayers later & still no sight of Cas. Maybe that was your end. All those years of unsuccessful searching for your family only for you to end up in another universe. Reunited with your brothers. And that was how you would go? Not what you imagined your life to be if you were completely honest. You were close to passing out. No food, no water, nothing. Your body was weak. You were weak. By now, every last ounce of hope had vanished.

“(Y/N)?” the last thing you saw before falling unconscious was Cas running to you.

Castiel had finally heard you. Begging for him to help you. To rescue you. No time was wasted. He found you soon after, shocked by the state you were in. Three days ago, he left you out of his sight. He had not stopped looking for you but it seemed useless. Until a small, broken voice appeared inside his head. Yours. Desperate words reached him. He knew he had to act fast. How he had lost you? No idea. Everything went so fast. Before he knew it, you were gone. Of course this family hid more than they let on. The second he found you, a weight got lifted off of his shoulders. No way could he bear losing you so shortly after you got closer. Immediately, he went to heal you. No bad wounds were adorning your body. Just your weakness was present. Yet, you could not stay awake any longer. Cas did not know how long you had been in there but from your exhaustion, he assumed just as long as he had searched for you. Freeing you of the ropes that were holding you to the chair, he picked you up bridal style. Teleporting to your motel room where he laid you on the bed gently. Looked like you were not planning on waking up anytime soon. So Cas packed all of your stuff & got his car ready. He no longer cared about this case. All he cared about was you being safe. And the bunker was the best safety you could get. He could deal with this hunt later.

Sam & Dean had no idea about your state, they thought the two of you were still in Wisconsin. Wrong. And they started worrying like crazy the moment Cas entered the bunker with you in his arms, unconscious. Question after question was thrown at Castiel who seemed to ignore his surroundings entirely. He just wanted to get you to your bed. The entire drive was spent asleep & he knew you would be like that for a while.

Sore. Your body felt sore. Like you had not moved in ages. Like the smallest movement took too much strength. Strength you could not muster right now. A familiar smell filled your nostrils. The sheets welcoming you. These were no motel sheets. No. You were home. How did you make it back? You definitely were not in Wisconsin anymore. Wait a second. There were no angels to hold you hostage anymore. Had Cas heard your prayers? Seemed like it. You could yell for him, for your brothers, but no words came out as soon as you opened your mouth. The hours of sleep you got did not change the fact that you were incredibly tired. Exhausted. Groaning, you stood up from the comfort of your bed. If nobody was here with you right now, then you had to take matters into your own hands. A glass of water. Something. You needed something. Your body made this task unnecessarily hard, though. One step after the other. Small, slow steps & you would reach the kitchen not long after. You got this.

Your walk to the kitchen was cut short when Sam saw you walking unsteadily. Running over to you, he picked you up a second later & brought you to the main area in the bunker.

“(Y/N). Why didn’t you yell for us?” the concern was audible.

“My voice.” creaking out, Sam’s eyes widened in realization. He left only to return a second later with a glass of water in hand. Gladly, you took it from him & enjoyed the cold liquid soothing your throat. Downing the glass, you handed it back to him. In this moment, Dean & Cas entered the room. Noticing you were awake, the two of them jogged over to you.

“(Y/N)? Are you alright?” Cas cupped your cheeks, caressing your soft skin with his thumbs. How you wanted to enjoy this moment. How you wanted it to never end. But your conversation with those angels came into your mind again. You leaned back, out of Cas’ reach. Eyes training down, you hoped nobody would question you.

“Um, yeah…I’m okay now. Just a little sore.” three pairs of eyes bore into you. They knew something was off. Dean was the first one to speak up.

“What happened?” sighing loudly at his question, you knew you had to improvise now.

“I didn’t do enough research. The case wasn’t as easy as we first thought it to be. The couple Cas & I were investigating? Witches. It was my fault they caught me, really. I should’ve been more careful.” after finishing, you risked a look at the three men in front of you. Did not look like they bought your little lie.

“There were no hints of witches there. We would’ve noticed.” Cas argued & you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you the one they kidnapped?” snapping at him, your voice was sharp. It was not your intention to sound so rude but everything overwhelmed you. Jumping up a second later, you ran back to your room, leaving them behind dumbfounded.

A soft knock was on your door. Maybe if you kept quiet they would leave you alone. Today was not your lucky day, apparently. Dean opened the door slowly, peaking his head inside to make sure you were not sleeping.

“What do you want, Dean?” you sat on your bed, back pressed against the headboard.

“Something’s wrong.” he noted, approaching you.

“I guess being kidnapped does that to you.”

“Cut the crap, (Y/N).” his voice raised slightly, immediately shutting you down. Your head hung low. “What’s wrong?” now, much softer, he took a seat on the edge of your bed.

“Nothing, Dean.” sighing out, your head was thrown back, eyes closed in frustration.

“I think I know you well enough to notice when you’re lying.” & he was right. There was not a lot of things you could keep from him. Sam did not always tell when you lied to him but Dean could see right through you. “So, let’s do this again…What’s wrong?” his sincere eyes locked onto yours & that was when you knew you could not keep this from him. Not all of it.

“Cas kissed me.” Dean’s eyes widened at your statement. It took you two long enough. But when he saw your features change, he could tell that something about this was bothering you.

“But?” his question followed up.

“But it didn’t do anything with me.” your own words broke your heart but you could not risk it. Could not risk Cas’ safety. “The witches I could handle. Well…you know what I mean. They didn’t hurt me, just trapped me.” fiddling with your hands in your lap.

“What are you trying to say? You don’t like Cas?” Dean was confused. More than once had you let on that you liked the angel & when he talked to Cas about all of this, then he found out that he liked you, too.

“No. I do. Just not how I thought I would.” quieting down, you were done with the conversation for now. “I’m tired, Dean. I’ll join you guys later today, alright?” Dean nodded, stood up & left your room without another word. Though, his mind was running. Something about this entire situation felt wrong. Right now, he could not tell why. But he was sure he would find out sooner or later.

“Cas, man. What the hell did you do?” Dean was livid. For months, you had had eyes for the angel. And now, you told him he kissed you & you did not feel anything? What was going on?

“What?” Castiel was confused. Confused by Dean’s angry tone & by his accusation. Did he do something?

“You & (Y/N).” he pointed out.

“What about us?”

“Seriously? So I have to watch you guys dancing around your feelings for months only for her to tell me that when you kissed her it didn’t do anything with her?” his eyebrows raised, clearly waiting for an explanation. Cas, on the other hand, did not understand a single thing.

“She said that?” the angel’s voice was barely above a whisper. You kissed him back. Before you drove to Wisconsin, it was you who kissed him the second time.

“Yes. So you owe me an explanation before I kick your ass.” there it was. Dean’s protective side. He did not think, when you first came into their universe, that he would care for you on such a deep level. But here he was. And he could tell that Cas broke something in you.

“Dean, nothing happened. I kissed her, yes. But she kissed me, too. I thought we were fine until she woke up & didn’t want me to touch her.” it did not make sense to him. Was all of it a lie? Were you just playing around? He did not think you to be that kind of person. Whatever he did, he had to make it right before it was too late.

Later that day, you risked leaving your room once again. Hopefully, you would not come across anyone. You still had to greet Jack but that could wait. For now, you just wanted a little something to eat. It had been a while since you had your last meal & your stomach was rumbling with protest. Cas’ silhouette was in front of you. Shit, you really were not in the mood to interact with him. Yes, it hurt to know that whatever the two of you started the other day could never be. Before you could turn around & leave again, Castiel faced you. The hurt in his face was present & the guilt set in. He was like that because of you. You were the reason for his pain. And this thought itself hurt you more than anything. His feet dragged him over to you. A little step back from you made him stop. Apparently, you did not want to have him close.

“(Y/N)?” his tone brought tears to your eyes. But you would not let them fall. You could not. “Talk to me, please.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” you were being cold towards him which was uncommon. It was not in your nature to act like that. You were the sweetest soul Cas had ever met. Whoever was standing in front of him right now was not you.

“What did I do?” his concerned eyes locked onto your (Y/E/C) ones.

“You didn’t do anything, Cas. Believe me, please.” your plea was almost inaudible. No longer could you bare looking at him. You would break down in tears.

“Something changed you when you were trapped.”

“Cas, can we not do this right now?” closing your eyes briefly, you let out a sigh to calm yourself down. Leaving him no time for a response, you left the room again. Still no food inside of you. But you lost your appetite anyway.

The next morning, when you made your way back to the kitchen area again, you were glad when you were only met with Sam. His warm smile was welcoming. Something that let you feel at ease.

“Good morning. Coffee?” he offered you a cup & you gladly accepted. “I made pancakes. Are you hungry?”

“Starving.” chuckling when your stomach grumbled. Sam handed you a plate & you sat down, quietly munching on your breakfast. At least he did not ask you about the case.

“What do they hold against you?” Sam asked after a few moments of silence.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I did my own research on your case. No witches whatsoever. Though, it was a good excuse, I gotta admit.” your eyes widened. Shit, if he found out what went down then he sure as hell would tell everyone. “Everything leads to angels. They didn’t hurt you. But they told you something. So…what are they holding against you?”

“Sam.” you sighed loudly. “You have to keep it a secret. Please.” staring at the tall man sitting opposite of you, you saw a sympathetic smile on his face.

“(Y/N)…”

“Okay, you wanna know what happened? Those angels threatened me. Said if I stay this close to Cas, I’d regret it. That they’d come after me or Cas. No way in hell will I let this happen.” due to your rambling, you did not notice Cas entering the room. Only when Sam coughed did you look around. What was it with him overhearing conversations?

“(Y/N).” like the night before, Cas approached you carefully. This time, you did not move away from him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I’m scared.” you admitted quietly. While you were a great hunter, you were not sure if you could handle fighting against angels.

“Sam & Dean are your brothers. Jack is the strongest being I’ve ever met & you’ve got me.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t there, Cas. We really shouldn’t mess with them.”

“And you thought it was a good idea to ignore Cas?” Sam chimed in. Right, you had almost forgotten that he was still there. Casting your eyes down in embarrassment, you suddenly felt an arm wrap around your shoulders. It was Cas.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, (Y/N). I promise.” he put a soft kiss on top of your head. You knew that. Castiel would do anything to keep you safe. But those angels scared you so much. You could not live with it if you were the reason of Cas getting hurt. Or worse. Looking up again, you noticed that Sam had left the room during your little interaction. Cas’ hands cupped your cheeks. Barely. Scared that you would not want to be touched by him. You did not move, though. No, you leaned into his touch. Closing your eyes to fully enjoy this intimate moment with him. His lips pressed against yours. Softly, as if your were fragile. When the two of you moved in sync, every little ounce of uncertainty washed away. You knew you could not stay away from him. But at the same time, you knew they would come after you now. This kiss would change everything. Whatever was awaiting you, it could not be good. But maybe, just maybe, if you went ahead & dealt with this together, nobody would get hurt.

~to be continued? (idk just yet)~

Published (03/31/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @vicmc624, @ayamenimthiriel, @teelagurl558, @babymango-writes, @hollymac79, @longinusfilibuster, @insanebot109, @down-down-inanulearan (thanks for your support <3)

#castiel #castiel x reader #cas x reader #reader insert #reader imagine #imagine #one shot #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fandom #spn fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural family #SPN #SPNFamily #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #winchester!reader #winchester!sister #sister!reader #winchester brothers #Jack Kline #angels #original series #original writing #castiel imagine #Misha Collins

[kiirokero]

Ataraxia (JJK)

Ataraxia: Calmness untroubled by mental or emotional disquiet; Tranquillity of mind.

Part of the Protect the Village! Oneshot Series.

Masterlist

Pairing: PoliceOfficer!Jungkook x Delinquent!Reader

Genre/Warnings: E2L (Enemies to Lovers), angst, fluff, humour, mentions of neglectful parents/childhood neglect, swearing, HPD-like behaviors/destructive attention-seeking behaviors, allusions to anxiety, read with caution on this one!

Note: I would die for RT and TITI :(

Summary: Graffiti isn’t that bad. It’s a misdemeanour in most places. So what if the rookie catches you tagging one night? You’ll wiggle your way out of it like you always do... Right?

Word Count: 5.3k

Semi-Unedited

      Night was when all your ideas came to you. In the late hours where the moon comes out to lull everyone asleep, you wander the night in search of an outlet. Backpack swung over your shoulder, paint cans rattling around, sweatshirt taut to your body to fight off the nighttime chill. You search the tiny village where you spent most of your life for the perfect canvas. 

     The only lights to aid you in your search are the dim lampposts that illuminate the sidewalk, but that doesn’t stop you from finding the jackpot. Blank, empty white wall, vast space to work on, flat. You could feel the anxious desire to pick up your paint cans on the tips of your fingers. Quickly, you put down your backpack and got out your colors. 

      Red, green, yellow, blue, black, pink, purple. All the colors you needed to make a stunning art piece. Sure, the shop owner might not appreciate it, but you only paint pretty things. You may be a “delinquent” but that doesn’t mean you have to spew hate and vulgarity to all of Bangtan Village. 

     What were you feeling tonight? Writing? Animals? Flowers? Flowers. Definitely flowers tonight. Wasting no time, you picked up a can and started spraying. Red here, green there, a bit of pink. You paint and paint and paint. Like your brain is on autopilot, letting your hand do whatever it wants. Left, right, up, down. You watch as your piece comes to life in front of you. Roses, daisies, marigolds. It looks like the garden of your mind. 

     Taking a step back, you admire your work. Clean lines, bright colors, eye-catching. You feel proud. This was better than the sketches. It captured your every breath, every emotion, a true piece of art. You felt at ease looking at the picture of all your pent-up emotions laid bare on the bricks. Expressing the sorrows that plagued your mind through the image of dull, weeping flowers. 

     Sure, it still looked beautiful. When you looked at it as one unit, it was the perfect image to be painted on a flower shop. But if you looked closer, you could see the anxiety in the shaky lines, the sorrow in the dulled colors, the anger in the frenzied coloring. But you didn’t feel like that at the moment. 

     Graffiti was an outlet for you. The ability to get people to pay attention and see what you’ve been trying to get people to see. To show people that you weren’t okay. You wanted someone-anyone- to listen to you, to see you. You wanted someone to look at you and see you as a person who was struggling. Because you really were struggling. 

     Shit parents and anxiety were the things that defined your life. Your life givers made it known to you that they really didn’t care what you did, where you were, who you were with, nothing. They weren’t terrible, luckily enough. They were just neglectful. They forgot you were there half the time, so you had to force yourself to grow up and do things on your own.

     You would cook your own meals, do your own laundry, make your own money. For as long as you remember, you were living as your own person. You brought yourself back up from the depths of panic and kissed your own wounds. You told yourself to suck it up and keep pushing. But soon enough you started to ask yourself exactly why you were still pushing.

    No friends, no family, not even an animal companion could give you the comfort you so desperately sought out for when the thoughts of “why?” clawed at your fragile mind late at night. When you felt like you couldn’t breathe when things went south. You tried. You tried to make friends. You tried to reach out. You tried to get help, but it was all the same. “Your fine, get over it,” Whether those were the exact words or the implied ones, that was the answer everyone gave you. 

“You’re an adult.”

“Everyone feels anxious, you’ll be okay,”

     No matter how hard you tried to use your words, to shout and scream on the rooftops that you needed support, big or small, nobody listened. It’s as the world went deaf to you. Like you were invisible, walking through the streets like a ghost. So you turned to more... Destructive ways of gaining people’s attention.

     Yes, you knew this was wrong. You knew that if you got caught, it would go on your record. But you didn’t care, not at this point. The thought of people seeing this in the morning and thinking about you (Well, not you specifically, but the person who’s been painting the town for months now) Excited you. Having people's attention excited you. Hearing people whisper about the delinquent who's been tagging Bangtan Village left and right made you giddy. Because you had their attention. 

     The sound of heavy footsteps tore through the tranquil bubble you’d put yourself in. “Shit...” You whispered to yourself, grabbing your things and sneaking away from your- admittedly pretty -crime. Because not only did you get the citizen's attention. You got the attention of the police department as well. 

    Steadily, you took silent footsteps as you weaved your way through the back alleys of the main street shops. You could still hear the boot falls of the person making their nightly rounds. Even if they sounded calm. You knew they were looking for you. You knew he was looking for you. 

    You made the haste decision to abandon your bag full of paint cans and respirator behind a dumpster, noting down its whereabouts so you could retrieve it in the morning. You knew that if you got caught with them in your possession, then they would no doubt charge you. So you were left with your sweatshirt and a heartbeat that pounded in your ears. 

      You continued to make your way through the back alley mazes. Navigating them on muscle memory. This wasn’t the first time you’d had to make a silent getaway. You could still hear the footsteps, they were getting heavier. Step... Step... Step... Your anxiety shot through the roof and you wiped your clammy hands on your worn out jeans. 

But then they stopped. 

      There was no more ominous pounding of boots against concrete. Just the ambiance of the crickets chirping their nightly melody. It was calm again. So when you saw an opening out onto the beginning of main street, you breathed a sigh of relief. Home was only a few yards away now. You could go home to your small, dingy apartment and sink into your tiny bed, dreaming of a better life. 

     What world would you escape to tonight? Would you go on your own adventure where your the loved main character? Would you explore what was underneath the sea and discover what laid dormant at the bottom of the ocean? What about dreaming of befriending your favorite comfort characters from your favorite shows? Finally, having friends for once. 

“L/n,”

     You jumped as a voice cut through your train of thought. Looking to your left you saw none other than Jeon Jeongguk leaning against the entrance of the alleyway, giving you a stern face. “Well, isn’t it the rookie? Did they put you on guard dog duty tonight?” You chuckled, regaining your composure and throwing on a mask of confidence. Jeongguk rolled his eyes and stood straight up, towering over you. 

      “What are you doing out so late, L/n?” Jeongguk asked you with a stoic face. “Going for a walk,” You answered, voice unwavering. “Oh really? So you know nothing about the recent act of vandalism on Yoongi’s flower shop, huh?” He tilted his head, talking to you as if you were five. “What? Another tagging? Crazy,” You said, in an feign surprised voice. 

      Jeongguk sighed, stepping away from you. “You’re coming with me, L/n,” Jeongguk deadpanned. Your eyebrows furrowed, and you looked at him incredulously. “What? But I didn’t do anything!” You complained, your poker face unbreaking. “Well, I have reason to suspect you know at least something. So by the laws our government has set up, I get to bring you to the station for questioning,” Jeongguk said in a sing-song voice. 

     “I feel like that’s an abuse of power,” You pointed out, crossing your arms. Jeongguk looked at you, unimpressed. “Public law number 130-13. Any suspect can be put in police custody as long as the officer has circumstantial or physical evidence proving they know or did something.” Jeongguk regurgitated like a parrot. You chucked, “Nerd,” 

     “Whatever, just come on.” Jeongguk groaned, and you reluctantly followed. You knew running would do nothing, it’s a small community, he’d find you in like, 5 minutes. And fighting him? Have you seen Jeongguk? That kid’s all muscle. A total gym rat. He could flick you and you’d get a concussion. You didn’t want to fight him anyway. So you had to follow him, but that didn’t mean you wanted to. 

      “Nice place you got here, Rookie,” You snickered, looking around the relatively small police station. Jeongguk sighed and led you to a small interrogation room. You say “interrogation” like it was intimidating, but nothing’s intimidating about a small room with metal tables and chairs. 

      You sat down on the opposite side of Jeongguk, giving him a smug smirk as he looked at you with disdain. “So... What’s up officer?” You asked, resting your head on the table. “What were you really doing out there, Y/n?” Jeongguk asked, huffing. “Like I said. I was taking a walk. Bangtan Village is nice, ya know?” You restated, not giving up the facade. 

     “I know you did it,” He deadpanned, leaning closer to you. “You see, Rookie... Public law number 130-6. Officers cannot make an arrest without physical evidence or a confession that proves the suspect is guilty without a reasonable doubt,” You stressed the last T, shit-eating grin still on your face. You sounded knowledgeable, but that was the only law you cared to memorize. “Aka. The law don’t give a shit what you think you know,” You sat back up, leaning in your chair. “That law's flawed,” Jeongguk complained. “Take that up with our mayor, Rookie,” 

“You’re insufferable,” Jeongguk spat. 

“I know,” You chuckled. 

      “Why’d you do it? You know canvases exist for a reason, right? Yoongi’s going to pay someone to cover it up.” Jeongguk asked, voice raising a few octaves. “Rookie, buddy, if your fishing for a confession. You ain’t gonna get one,” You snickered, tilting your head in a teasing manner. “Besides, whoever did it-has been doing this-makes pretty good artwork so...” You shrugged. “So you’ve seen the recent tagging on Yoongi’s store?” Jeongguk pried. “I never said that. I’ve seen their other things. Figured the art you're talking about, which I definitely haven’t seen, is just as good.” 

      Jeongguk looked like he wanted to hop across the table and strangle you. It was funny, really. Jeongguk was right, of course he was, but he could never prove it. You didn’t confess to anything, you hid the evidence well, nothing could connect you to the crime. This wasn’t first time Jeongguk tried to pry open your mind and get you to spill out an “I did it,” just to show his hyungs that he really could catch a criminal, just like them. 

Not that you’ll see a bunch of criminals in Bangtan of all places

     The only reason Jeongguk knows it was you (Therefore starting up this hilarious game of cat and mouse,) Was because he knew the kind of person you were. He’s known you since highschool. He would hear whispers in the hall about you and your trusty paint cans, tagging the principal’s prized Chevrolet with the words “Ya mom raised a nerd” because he pissed you off that one time. 

      You got away with it too. The principal never got wind of who did it. Even if everyone at school knew it was you. I mean, come on, who else carried black spray paint in their bookbag? Plus, not a lot of people come to Bangtan, therefore not a lot of delinquents with a taste for artful vandalism existed here. 

     “Listen Rookie, you have no proof that it was me. You interrogated, I answered. Now I get to go home,” You smiled, getting up from your seat. Jeongguk just tsked at you, rolling his eyes at your “friendly” wave goodbye. “Nerd,” You chuckled to yourself, skipping out of the police department. 

Today couldn’t get any worse.

     “But I already finished the piece! My policy states that the down payment isn’t refundable!” You let out a frustrated groan as the lady on the other side of the line complained that your policy was unreasonable and she should get her $150 dollars back because she wasn’t interested in the china set she commissioned from you anymore.

“Look, I don’t care what happened on your end. At the end of the day, I told you it wasn’t refundable, and you still paid it. You agreed to it. So either I can send you the set and you pay the rest of the amount we agreed on. Or I keep the $150, and you have no custom china set,” 

      Guess she really didn’t want that china set, since she huffed and said, “Fine, keep the damn glass,” Which set you off more because china is made of kaolin and quartz, delicately painted with subtle details. Not! Glass! It didn’t help that bills were coming up and you were tight on money this month. 

     Being a freelance artist is unstable. You knew this. You knew that there were other professions that you could throw yourself into that would give you a more stable form of income. But it would also chip away at your spirit. You loved painting, you loved pottery, you loved making porcelain. 

      Now you were stressed, anxious, and the owner of a china set fit for a 50-year-old lady. You wanted to cry. You felt like sobbing. What were you supposed to do now? The only other commission you had was a landscape portrait that costed only $160, and with bills coming you’d have like $60 to spend on food. 

      You covered your face with your hands as you started to breathe erratically. It felt like the walls were closing in on you. Like a snake was curling its way up your body and squeezing your throat. Shakily, you stood up on your wobbly legs and grabbed your bag full of spray paint that you recovered earlier in the day. You needed your outlet. 

      You ran out into the chilly night air, making your way towards main street to find something to paint your frustrations on. You needed to calm the sickly feeling that bubbled up in your throat, to throw water on the fire in the pit of your stomach that urged you to scream into the woods that surrounded the village. 

      Finally, you made it to an empty wall. The one on the side of “Kim’s Confections” that you painted a week ago. The owner painted over your image of the night sky, you guessed. It didn’t matter though, you were too focused on ripping open your bag and pulling out your paints. 

      What were you feeling tonight? Red. Okay, what’s red? Apples, flowers, fire. Fire, that’s it. What else... What does fire do? It burns. Yeah, lets burn shit. What shit are we burning? Uhh... Flowers? That works... 

      You quickly picked up your red paint can and started spraying. You had no idea what you were doing, this wasn’t in your sketchbook. This was purely a product of the emotions currently plaguing your mind. You could already tell it was going to be ugly... It looked like chaos incarnate, but it was an accurate picture of what you were feeling. 

    You furiously painted the wall with blobs of different colors that weren’t mixing well at all. Like yes, green and red are contrasting opposites, but they don’t mix well. And what was pink doing next to a neon orange? You didn’t know, you barely even cared.

However, you did care when you heard those same familiar footsteps. 

     “Why today, Jeon?” You huffed, packing your things and running off into the back alleys. What you didn’t expect was for the footsteps to start running with you. Panicking, you ran faster, focusing more on getting away than where you were going. 

     They were getting louder and louder, closer and closer. “Shit,” You whimpered to yourself when you came upon a dead end. The familiar feeling of tears pricked up in the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Thump... Thump... Thump... You refused to turn around to face the last person you wanted to see today. 

     “Well, we meet again L/n,” Jeongguk’s voice echoed off the bare brick walls. You said nothing, opting to continue looking at the wall in front of you. “Come on, L/n, it’s time to give it up,” He sighed, taking a few steps closer. “I know,” You whispered out, feeling the dread creep into your mind at the thought of your only outlet being taken away. 

Scratch that, today could get worse. 

      “I see you’ve got this place nice a cozy for me, Rookie,” You chuckled, holding onto the cell bars with two hands, trying to hide the fear you felt inside, the anguish. Like always, Jeongguk just rolled his eyes, laying back in the chair at his desk while he wrote up a report. 

      Jeongguk said nothing to you as the hours dragged on, and that made the situation worse. You would poke fun at him, call his name, you even asked how his day was. Nothing. You felt invisible all over again, and it made you even more scared. It was like you were that naïve six-year-old girl again, begging for an ounce of her parents' attention.

“Mom, I made you this today,”

“Dad, there's a father-daughter dance at school this Friday,”

Nothing. 

It was always nothing. 

     Because even if there was another body in the room, you felt alone again; you felt pathetic. Unwanted, unheard. At times like these you would paint a gigantic mural on the side of someone’s business on main street, but now you can’t. That’s what got you in this mess in the first place. All you wanted was somebody’s eyes on something that was you, whether that be your work or your features, and now that was yanked from your grasp.

      After this you couldn’t spray paint anymore, because then the entire police department would watch you like a hawk. Nobody would whisper about the mysterious pretty painting in the street anymore. And Jeongguk wouldn’t be the cat chasing the mouse anymore. 

      Jeongguk suddenly put his pen down with a huff, the action much louder in the quiet police station than it would be in a normal setting. “So, Y/n, I know you're not dumb. You’re obviously under arrest for vandalism. And with the severity and amount you committed, there's a $300 fine and a week of jail time,” Jeongguk explained, sounding bored. 

      Your eyes widened. “What? A week of jail time?” You exclaimed, feeling your heart drop. “Yep,” Jeongguk confirmed, popping the p. “No... No, Rookie, you can’t do this...” You whimpered out, trying to calm your breathing. You saw a look of sadness flash in Jeongguk’s eyes before he returned to a stoic state. “You’re the one who committed the crime, Y/n,” He stated, messing around with some papers. 

“Jeongguk please,” You begged, using his actual name for the first time since highschool. 

    Jeongguk paused, his back turned towards you and hand frozen in the motion of putting away a file. He took a deep breath and continued his movements. Going back to ignoring you. You felt dejected, so you gave up and slumped onto the small bed in the cell's corner. Just as you were about to close your eyes, you heard the slap of a book on the floor. 

     You looked over your shoulder to see Jeongguk at the door of your cell, giving you a tight smile. On the floor was what looked to be a sketchbook and some pencils. Cautiously, you got up from the bed and grabbed them, giving Jeongguk a curious look. 

“It’ll be okay,” He said. 

      Over the next few days, life fell into a routine. You would wake up, Jeongguk would give you breakfast, and you would draw in between meals. Nothing else. Sometimes you would try to strike up conversation with the stubborn police officer who kept you company most days, but he would either stay silent or reply with one-word answers. So you quickly gave up on that. 

      Sooner or later, the sorrow you felt turned into bitterness. You were mad at yourself, mad at the world, mad at Jeongguk. A week in jail? What was that supposed to do? Teach you a lesson? As if. If anything, it just made you want to do more illegal things as a big “Fuck you,” To the officers who walked past your cell with looks of pity on their faces. 

     Yes, people in Bangtan were overly nice, and no, you didn’t need their pity. You survived on your own long enough without anyone’s pity, so you didn’t need it now, when you were already fucked up. Where was this kindness when you cried to the school counselor about your home situation and she sent you away with the excuse that you were “Pms’ing” and “It wasn’t that bad” 

    You felt this boil in you every night and through the day. And it was still boiling in you when Jeongguk set you free and paid your fine. (Which made you angrier cause now your set back on bills AND food) “Don’t get into trouble,” Was the last thing he said to you. You knew his words should’ve made you angry, but knowing that you wouldn’t see him every day now made you... Sad...

      The world felt cold... Colors seemed to dull and noise seemed to be muffled everywhere you went. You felt, empty. Alone. Sad. You felt like you didn’t have a purpose now that you caught up on all your commissions and going out spray painting the town was an even more risky thing to do. On the bright side, you were able to pay your bills. 

      But that didn’t help the dread you felt when you woke up every single day. The bitterness was still there, but now it was buried with dread and trepidation. Sometimes the fire of your anger would burn bright, sometimes it was just embers. The intense mood swings you were feeling gave you emotional whiplash, and all you wanted to was lay in bed all day. 

“It’ll be okay,” 

     Jeongguk saying those words to you swirled in your head daily. They never left. Not since he first said that. You could hear the slight accent in his voice and see the slight squint in his nose when he speaks. That’s what fueled your fire the most. He did nothing for you. Why are you giving him the time of the day? He locked you up. 

     But there was also this voice that reminded you of the playful bickering the two of you shared, the sparks in your eyes when the two of you looked at each other, your game of cat and mouse. It told you that if you tried, maybe he could be your friend. Maybe he could help you. He’s a police officer, he’d want to help anyone... Right?

But if he wanted to help you, why would he lock you in a jail cell?

   That bitterness and conflict in your mind led you here, to an empty wall. Why were you here? Why did you have a spray paint can in your hand? Why were you painting again? Why Y/n, why? No matter how loud the angel on your shoulder screamed at you to go home, do something better with your life, be something better. It fell on deaf ears. 

      Not even the crickets were chirping as those boot falls made their way towards you. Nothing but the spray of your paint and the thud of Jeongguk’s steel-toed boots fill the surrounding night. Jeongguk only sighed in disappointment when he saw you standing there. Waiting for you to turn to him before he said anything. 

      “Isn’t it the Rookie...” You muttered. The same teasing words were there, but they lacked the enthusiasm. “What are you doing, Y/n?” Jeongguk asked, still sounding very unimpressed. 

“Your smart Rookie, what does it look like I’m doing?” 

“What I told you not to do,”

“Ding ding! We have a winner,” You exclaimed sarcastically. 

“Did you really not learn your lesson?”

     You scoffed, “Learn my lesson?” You stopped painting and turned towards Jeongguk. “Learn my lesson? What exactly did you do to teach me a lesson?” You scowled. “Was a week in jail not enough?” He retorted, and you felt yourself boil over.

      “Listen here, Jeon. Do you know what that week really did to me? It made me bitter. It made me feel like shit, like I was back living with my parents,” You spat. Jeongguk’s face fell at the mention of your parents. He knew what you went through, everyone knew. Bangtan was a small village, after all. “I mean come on, you really think locking me up behind bars is going to change me? Look at where I am Jeon! In the same goddamn alley doing the same shit cause I didn’t learn my lesson!” You ranted, and you felt tear prick at the corner of your eyes. You couldn’t stop them from overflowing this time. 

      “Police officers are supposed to help people, ya know. You don’t just catch criminals, you should help them. You wanna know the best way to prevent people from becoming re-offenders? Helping them!” You cried, throwing your paint can on the ground. “But no, you just care about handing in that report, huh? You caught me! Now you want nothing to do with me! I get it Jeon, really. Nobody wants anything to do with me...” You sniffled, feeling your anger dissipate. 

     Jeongguk looked like a kicked puppy. He didn’t know what to do when you started crying, but he knew that he needed to do something. “Y/n...” He said, reaching out for you, but you backed away. “Don’t... Just go away,” You said, but you didn’t really mean it. No, you wanted Jeongguk to come closer, to help you, to tell you it was okay again. Luckily, he understood that. 

      While you were wiping the tears away from your face, Jeongguk pulled you into a hug. At first you struggled, trying your best to get away from the muscle bunny, but soon you relented, falling into the comfort that his muscular arms offered you. “I’m sorry,” He whispered to you, squeezing you tight. “You’re right, I should be helping. Let me start by helping you,” 

    You sniffled, pulling away from his chest to look up at him. “Help me? I’m a lost cause,” You croaked, but Jeongguk shushed you, pulling you back in. “My friend goes to this therapist, he says they’re great, maybe they can help you,” He offered. 

“Maybe they can,” 

      “You're a pain in my ass, you know that Hobi?” You groaned, squinting at the laughing red-head who was currently sitting across from you in your studio. “But it’s too funny. I mean, a delinquent falling in love with a police officer? A classic,” He teased. You just rolled your eyes, bringing your focus back to the pot you were working on. “I’m not in love,” You retorted. 

      Hoseok snickered, “You remember what Dr. Choi said about lying to ourselves?” You wanted to strangle the shit-eating grin he had on his face, but you opted to huff and show your disdain instead. “Sometimes I wish you weren’t in my group therapy sessions,” You complained, but that smile never left Hoseok’s face. 

      After that night in the alley with Jeongguk, he lived up to his words. He introduced you to your current therapist Dr. Choi and got you the help you needed. Soon enough, you were slowly getting better. Your desire for graffiti slowly dissipated, and you opted for a canvas. It was easier to sleep at night, and Dr. Choi introduced you to a support group. Which is how you met your friend, Hoseok. 

      But Jeongguk still stuck with you. He would check up on you every day and keep you company when he had the time. Recently he’s been showing up at your place with cupcakes from Taehyung’s bakery, (You recently learned his name and he admitted your paintings were cool, but they didn’t fit his aesthetic) Sometimes you’d even visit the station, dropping off lunch for him. 

    Jeongguk and you became quick friends. Besides the ironic differences between the two of you, you also had a lot in common. You’d have movie/video game nights, sometimes you’d let him paint with you, he even introduced you to his other friends (All six of them,) Outside of work, he let down the intimidating police man facade and became a lovable bunny. 

Maybe a bit too loveable, since you seemed to like Jeongguk a bit too much these days. 

    “How would I even tell him? “Hey! It’s me, Y/n! Delinquent turned mural artist who has a huge crush on you! The police officer who arrested me and put me in jail!” Ha, no.” You dramatically exaggerated with your hands. “Oh come on Y/n! He’s pining over you too!” Hoseok said, trying (and failing) to convince you. “Didn’t you write that love letter to him? Why not give him that?” Hoseok suggested. You immediately cringed, hiding your face in your hands. “No way, that’d be so embarrassing,”

“So your saying that if I ran over to the police station with this slip of paper and handed it to Jeongguk you’d never forgive me?” Hoseok asked, holding up the infamous love letter you wrote for Jeongguk 3 weeks ago.

“You wouldn’t dare,” You glared at him.

“Y/n... You’ve been debating telling him for months...” Hoseok groaned, “Maybe you just need a little... Push!” He said, jumping out of his seat and running out the door. 

      “Jung Hoseok, I’m going to kill you!” You yelled, running after him. Unfortunately he was like, 90% legs so it was hard to even keep a foot’s distance between the two of you. “Hobi! He’ll hate me!” You whined, huffing a puffing. You really needed to get back in shape. “No he won’t! He literally talks about you all the time! I’m doing you idiots a favor!” Hoseok yelled back, bursting his way into the police station. 

    “Jeon Jeongguk!” Hoseok called, getting weird looks from the other officers. Jeongguk’s head popped up from his desk and he got up to see what his friend wanted. Not before you tackled Hoseok to the ground, however. The paper flew out of Hoseok’s hand as he fell to the ground with an “Oof”

      Jeongguk looked at the two of you with a smile, choking down his laughs as he picked up the paper. “Don’t read it!” “Read it!” You and Hoseok said at the same time. But Jeongguk’s nosy self had already opened it and was reading the words. You groaned and hid your face in Hoseok’s shoulder out of embarrassment. Jeongguk just chuckled, leaning down to give you a kiss on the cheek. “Let’s go to dinner after I’m done here, yeah?” He said, giving you a wink as he walked away. 

“What just happened,” You asked, putting your hand up to your cheek. 

“You just started a new chapter in your life. This one titled “Me and Jeongguk, the most cliche shit I’ve ever seen,” Hoseok smiled, patting your head.

“Shut up... I got a mural to spray paint,”

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jeongguk #jeon jeongguk #jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #bts fanfic #bts oneshot #bts

[sapphic-loser16]

I just realized I never explained what Chiaroscuro is. (Or even posted the first chapter lol) For those of you who get wildly confused when I drop random chapters of a story I never talk about otherwise

This is my baby, Chiaroscuro. This story has been rattling around in my head for the past six months, and it is a coagulation of my maladaptive daydreams and headcanons that I spew onto the page. It follows the next hero in the reincarnation cycle, as well as a host of other original characters. Since I’m getting into the habit of being more active for my followers I thought I should drop this here. Please go give it a read, I’ve worked really hard on it!

(Chapter one below the cut )

The rain feels like fire on his back. He runs, faster, faster, faster. They can’t catch him, Hyrule will fall if doesn’t get away. His mind is blurry, the world is blurry. The only thing that registers is the pain that courses through his body like lightning and the golden light thats pours from his left hand. He tries his best to push through the pain and mental fog. One thing is clear though; whispered words spoken to him only hours ago, as a guard unlocked his bloody chains

Run.

Run as fast you can.

Hope is not lost.

The resistance has a base in the Lost Woods.

They will help you.

Now run, and save us all.

The rain pours down even harder. Lightning flashes as he skids to a stop. The magical woods loom in front of him. Mist swirls around the branches, beckoning him into their safe embrace. He hesitates. The legends say that any who dare step into the sacred forest shall be lost to time. A sharp stab of pain interrupts his musings. The scars on his back have split open. Blood cascades down his back. If he doesn’t make his choice soon he will die steps away from freedom. The woods whisper to him, call him into the trees. The golden light on his hand pulls him foreword ever so slightly. His choice is made, then. He breathes a quick prayer, and limps into the fog.

___

A cheerful voice rings in his ear.

“Get up ya lazy bones!”

Not now, Wind, Sky thought, rolling over. It’s too early for this.

He jammed his sailcloth into the side of his head to try to block out the youngest Link’s chipper voice. A kick on the the back of his knees sent a jolt through his body.

“Up an ‘attem bird boy.” The sailcloth was ripped away by Legend’s blurry hands blinding Sky in the morning sun.

“Pinky’s right,” called Warriors from his side. “You slept through an entire switch.”

Wait, what?

Sky bolted up into a sitting position just in time to see Warriors receive a sound slap to the back of the head courtesy of Legend. He slept through a whole switch? He rubbed his eyes to clear some of the morning fog. He could see the others packing up their things and Twilight dousing a campfire.

“How you do that is beyond me, and I slept for a hundred years,” smirked Wild, throwing him a bun, apparently the leftovers of breakfast.

“Who’s Hyrule are we in?” Sky asked.

Wild responded with a shrug.

“Don’t know. It’s not any of ours.”

“And that means new people, new Zelda, and new hero,” Hyrule said.

He stopped packing his bag and turned to face Sky.

“Are you ok? He asked softly. “You seem a bit dazed.”

Sky rubbed his face again. That dream was like something he had felt only once before. If history was any indication, the group needed to know.

“I think I had a dream.”

“So?” Legend scoffed. “We all dream, bird brain, nothing new here.”

“Hush,” Twilight said, pushing him away. “It must have been bad if its bothering you this much. What was it about?”

Sky pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to force the details back.

I-I don’t know, its all a bit hazy. I don’t even know if I could call it a dream, more like vague impressions. It was raining hard. I couldn’t even see any They were running…away from someone, I think. They were injured badly.” He looked up. “I could hear their thoughts, something about a Resistance.”

Twilight’s eyes went stormy.

“A Resistance?” He asked in a hard voice.

“Yeah, they were told the Resistance would help them,” Sky said, intrigued by Twilight’s sudden intensity. One last detail swam through his mental fog.

“They had the Triforce,” he said quietly. “Hyrule would fall if they didn’t get away, I think.”

The quiet rustle of the camp stopped. The Links shared looks with each other. That clearly wasn’t a good sign. The Triforce could only mean one thing.

“A new hero,” Time mused.

“Did you see where they were going?” Four asked from the far aside of the camp.

Sky thought hard. As he was the first in the timeline, his Hyrule lacked most if not all of the landmarks that made some of the others stand out. Heck, he hadn’t even known there was land below the clouds until a year and a half ago.

“Some sort of forest,” he started, trying to call back the details of the fast fading dream. “There was magical mist, if that helps.”

Wild thought for a second, then snapped his fingers.

“Lost Woods is what they were running to, no doubt. Magical mist keeps people with ill intent out. In my time, the Master Sword rests there. They could have been going to pull the sword.”

“That could be why the Resistance has a base there,” Warriors spoke up. “The Lost Woods offer protection, and they are able to protect Hyrule’s most powerful weapon.”

“But that still doesn’t explain the need for a resistance,” Twilight said, a bit on edge.

“Either way we’ll find out eventually,” Four said. Our best move would be to go to the nearest village and get a map.”

Time nodded, and motioned for the rest to pack up the remnants of the camp. Legend adjusted the last of his things and started to walk out of the woods they had landed in.

“Lets go before Hylia smites Sky with anymore visions.”

—

Wild had to admit, the land was beautiful. They had dropped into a forest at the top of a huge valley. As they walked down, he could see villages clumped together. A river ran through the valley, and the afternoon sun bathed the whole valley in a golden light. In the far distance beyond the valley, a castle loomed. His fingers jumped and twitched at the thought of exploring a whole new land. He bounced up to Hyrule, who was practically vibrating. They made excited eye contact. Twilight caught sight of the exchange and sighed loudly.

“No, you cannot go wandering off,” he admonished to the two wanderers. “I am not taking the chance of loosing y’all in a land as big as this.”

Wild stuck his tongue out in Twilights direction.

“You’re no fun,” Hyrule huffed playfully.

In truth, Twilight was a bit on edge. The last time he had encountered a resistance things had not gone well. He leaned over to Time, who had been quiet amongst the chatter.

“Do you think it’s…” Twilight didn’t dare finish his sentence, as if the very name could summon him.

Time closed his eye, and nodded,

“We have to be prepared for every possibility,” he said quietly.

It shouldn’t be possible, Twilight thought. He had killed him. He remembered every detail of that awful day. How could he forget? Twilight hated admitting it, but every now and again he would wake up screaming, reliving every single agonizing second of the last battle.

“Pup?” A soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts. They had arrived at a bustling town. Time’s eye softened.

“Are you ok?”

Twilight considered it for a second.

“I think I’m ok. Just a bit overwhelmed.”

Time nodded sagely.

“Cub,” he called to Wild

Wild looked up from the intense conversation he was having with Hyrule.

“How’s our supplies?”

Wild’s head dipped down for a second to take inventory on his Sheikah Slate.

“Food wise we’re all set, but we need more potions,” he called back.

Time touched his protégé’s back.

“Go with him, and clear your head. It will do you some good. The rest of us can get for directions.”

Twilight huffed.

“You just want me to make sure he doesn’t burn down the town.”

A sly look passed across Time’s sharp features for a moment as he herded the rest of his boys to a bar to find someone to tell them where the Woods were.

Twilight sighed and let Wild drag him to the nearest potion booth halfway across the square. It was a good think they were stocking up now, Twilight thought. The last monster battle had completely blown through all of their medical supplies, with Hyrule having to resort to his magic.

“Excuse me, could we buy some of your potions?” Wild asked the shopkeeper, who’s back was turned.

“Just a moment sir,” the shop keeper said, tidying up in the corner of the booth. She dusted her hands on her apron.

“What can I get for y-“ she stopped abruptly, eyes wide.

Twilight shared a confused look with Wild. Wild, just as confused, stared back. He turned to look at the shopkeeper. The woman was opening and closing her mouth, like she wanted to say something but couldn’t get the words out.

“Ma’am?” He asked softly, reaching out to touch her. “Are you okay?”

She flinched at Twilight’s attempted contact. Her hands shook as she pointed to Wild’s weapon.

“Y-you’re Yiga.” She gasped.

__

Wild flinched. Him, a Yiga? There were Yiga here? Admittedly that probably should have been his first thought. They should have been in the future, right? This couldn’t have been the era of the hero before him, there were no Divine Beasts. He killed Kohga, the Clan should have died out. This couldn’t be the future, right? Wild’s hand absentmindedly went to the handle of his Windcleaver.

The woman’s frantic voice yanked him out of his thoughts.

“Please, please sir,” she whimpered, eyes downcast. “ I-I didn’t know, I never would have put you off like that. It wont happen again, I swear it.”

Wild’s eyes went wide. He quickly dropped his hand back to his side. What in the name of Hylia was she talking about?

“Ma’am,” he tried, reaching for her again.

The shopkeeper gave a small scream and stepped back so quickly Wild thought she would fall. Tears were running down her cheeks. Wild could feel small ones prick at the sides of his vision.

A small touch on his shoulder. “We need to go,” Twilight murmured in his ear

Wild stood rooted to the spot. He couldn’t just leave, the poor woman was terrified of them. Plus, they were still in desperate need of medical supplies. Something was definitely wrong here, and Wild was going to try to fix it.

A puff of smoke appeared behind him. He could feel Twilight stiffen. From behind him walked a Blademaster.

Twilight’s eyes went wide. The woman whimpered even louder. The Blademaster strode between them and leaned over the counter ever so slightly, hands planted on its rough-hewn surface.

“This filth bothering you?”

It took a minute for Wild to realize the cult member was talking to him. How did they get here so fast? What in the world was happening? He could feel his hands shaking and his breath getting quicker. He didn’t dare look over the Blademaster to Twilight. The Yiga apparently took his silence as a positive answer. He tutted and shook his head back and forth.

“Oh, Maira,” he said, faux sadness dripping from his voice. “What a poor decision you have made today.”

The shopkeeper, Maira, was shaking now, tears pouring from her eyes. Her hands were clutched close to her chest.

“I-I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “I didn’t know.”

The Blademaster shook his head again. It had occurred to Wild that the village had gone completely silent. He could feel the eyes of the villagers bore into the back of his head. Where were Time and the others?

The Blademaster leaned even closer to Maira, their foreheads almost touching.

“You know the punishment for detaining a soldier of the crown,” he growled. Quick as lightning, he grabbed her wrist and slammed it down on the counter. She screamed and tried to pull away, but the Blademaster was to strong for her. Using his other hand, he drew a wickedly sharp Windcleaver and set it at her wrist. He lifted it high, the blade glinting in the sun.

The blade never made it down.

The soldier was thrown back with a clash of metal on metal. Twilight lowered his weapon down to his waist . He took slow, deliberate steps and planted himself in front of the stand and Wild, never breaking eye contact with the soldier. From the corner of his eyes, he could see the rest of his friends exit a bar. He caught Time’s horrified eye as his gaze went from Twilight to the Blademaster. Twilight claimed a fighting stance, daring the soldier to make a move.

The Blademaster considered Twilight for a second, then disappeared in a puff of smoke. Twilights tense shoulders sagged.

“Lets go,” he whispered with gritted teeth. Wild didn’t need to be asked twice. Twilight started towards the rest of the group.

A cloud of smoke bloomed in the corner of his vision.

Someone screamed Twilight’s name. (Was it him, or Time?)

Twilight wasn’t fast enough. The Yiga drew his sword, and thrust it through Twilight’s torso. A wet gasping noise escaped his lips as he fell to the ground. A scream ripped through the silence. Time, sword drawn, charged at the Yiga. Their swords clashed, and all silence was shattered. Screams filled the air as more Yiga materialized in puffs of smoke. The rest of the group drew their weapons and plunged into battle. Wild snapped out of his own stupor. He made a beeline to where Twilight laid crumpled on the ground, blood pooling below him.

“Twilight,“ he gasped, voice barely audible above the din of battle.

Blood trickled out of the side of his mouth as he tried to speak. Wild put a hand to his mouth.

“You need to save your energy.”

Twilight could only nod weakly. Wild screamed for Time, who was currently fighting off tow foot soldiers at once. He was loosing blood too fast, they would never be able to save him at this rate.

“Wild!”

Wild turned to see Warriors behind him, parrying a soldier with his shield.

“You need to get Twilight out of here,” he commanded. “Go back to the place where we started. Four and I can cover you. We’ll meet you there.”

Four, who was fighting at Warrior’s back, gave a firm nod, violet eyes locking with Wild’s blue.

Wild could only nod numbly. He wormed one arm under Twilight’s and pulled him up. A small scream escaped his bloody lips as his wound was stretched. His head lolled against Wild’s neck. He half dragged, half carried Twilight to the entrance of the town. To Four and Warrior’s credit, not a single Yiga engaged them on their way out. We’re almost there. Wild thought. Just a few more feet Twi. You have to stay with me. The going was slow considering Twilight was a good six inches and seventy pounds heavier than he was. Finally, finally, Wild was able to drag Twilight into the woods. He threw a quick look behind them to make sure they weren’t followed. He laid Twilight down on the dirt, trying to make him as comfortable as possible.

‘Cub,” Twilight coughed wetly, forcing his eyes open. “I-if I don’t make it, could y-.“

If Twilight wasn’t so close to death Wild would have slapped him across the face.

“Shut up,” he said through gritted teeth. “You are going to be fine.”

He gave a weak laugh, then fell silent.

Wild set to scouring his slate for something, anything, to help him. To his horror, he only had one fairy and a few bandages in his entire slate.

Stupid stupid stupid. This is all your fault. Thats all you’re good at, killing your friends. If you hadn’t equipped that Windcleaver like an idiot Twi wouldn’t be on death’s door in a foreign forest.

Tears gathered in Wild’s eyes. He would not be responsible for any more deaths. He had already caused enough to last a lifetime. With grim determination he set to work tending his brother’s wounds. The fairy from his slate tinkled with healing magic. Wild surveyed the damage after the fairy worked her magic. The wound was no longer immediately life threatening, but without proper medical equipment he would succumb to his wounds. All he could do now was wrap his wounds and pray for the best.

“Wild.”

He whipped around, hastily wiping tears from the corner of his eyes. Time, Sky, and Legend stumbled into the clearing.

“How bad is it?” Shy whispered, holding his shoulder.

Time ran a critical eye over his protégé’s still body.

“He’s alive. Barely.” Time murmured.

The bushes rustled again, this time producing Wind, who was lugging a very unconscious Hyrule.

‘He used too much of his magic,” gasped Wind, blood trickling from a cut near his hairline.

Sky moved to take Hyrule from the sailor, who promptly collapsed.

“Where’s the captain and smithy?” Time asked while looking Wind over.

“They were right behind me,” Legend said, trying to hide the obvious concern in his voice. “They should have made it out, right?”

A tense silence filled the clearing. No one wanted to acknowledge the possibility that two of their comrades hadn’t made it out alive.

“I’m sure they’re fine. Warriors and Four are both capable swords men who can hold their own.” Sky reassured. “For now, we need to focus on Twi. Does anyone have any more healing items?”

To the group’s collective horror, the only thing they could produce was half of a red potion, courtesy of Legend. Wild took it and held it to Twilight’s lips. He drank all of it in one gulp and a sigh, and closed his eyes. A hand touched his shoulder.

“Let him rest, cub.” Time said, voice soft. “He’s going to be fine.”

Wild tried to ignore the blatant lie and let his shoulders slump. There was nothing more anyone could do now. The others were trying to busy themselves with menial tasks, like resetting the camp and gathering wood, anything to distract them from Twi’s shallow breathing. Legend had taken to pacing around the camp, mumbling to himself. No one had the heart to stop him. Almost an hour had passed before the bushed rustled again. A very dusty Warriors limped into camp with a bloody Four in tow.

“It’s just a surface wound, don’t worry,” Four said, trying to reassure the group. “It looks a lot worse than it is, trust me.”

Warriors let out a sigh as he plopped down in front of the fire Wild had started. Legend stopped dead in his tracks and whipped around so violently it gave Wild whiplash just watching it.

“You aren’t going to say anything, Pretty Boy?” He screeched. “You were gone for an hour, and thats all you have? Damn it I thought you had died, you cant do that!” He stomped. “Where were you and Four?”

He looked up, eyes blazing. “What do you want me to say?” He bit back. “Four and I were fighting those bastards so you could get away. We let Twi get run through by an insane cult member. He’s on the verge of death, and you’re suddenly concerned about me?”

Legend’s eyes went wide. “Well fuck me for being concerned about you,” he sputtered. He turned to Wild. “I though the Yiga were supposed to be gone,” he yelled. “You killed their leader. Why are they here?”

“I don’t know!” Wild exploded back jumping up from his sitting position. “I don’t know. I just stood there and watched like an idiot. All I could do was watch, Legend!” He screamed. Legend flinched. “All I could do was watch and now he might die. Because of me. All I can do is kill people.” Wild took a shuddering breath and hid his face in his hands, tears flowing.

Silence once again settled on the group like a thick fog. The only things they could hear were Wild’s muffled sobs and Twilight’s shallow breaths.

“Excuse me?”

Wild’s head snapped up, hands flying to his sword. The rest of the group followed suit, forming a circle around Twilight and Hyrule, who was still unconscious.

‘’Who’s there?” Four called out. If Wild didn’t know any better, he could have sworn the trees themselves were speaking. Given that he only knew one talking tree, that seemed highly improbable. The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

“Oh gods, I’m sorry,” the voice said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just thought that given your situation you could use some help.”

Well that was unexpected. Wild and Four shared a confused look.

“Why would you want to help us?” Legend called.

“Isn’t it obvious?” The trees answered back. “Your friend isn’t looking so hot. By my estimate he’s got a good thirty minutes before he and Hylia have a face to face. And besides, I think you could help me.”

“Why would you want us to help you?” Time scoured the trees for some kind of indication of a speaker.

“Well given all the shit that just went down at the village I think you guys are pretty capable fighters.” The voice laughed. “And your friend Wild claimed to have killed the Yiga leader. Which, by the way, is completely incorrect. But still, that claim has to have some merit, and I’ve never seen a normal person have the courage to impersonate a Yiga, much less stand up to one. That takes guts. Stupid guts, but guts nonetheless.”

How did the tree voice know his name?

“You were there?”

The voice laughed again.

“Of course I was there, how would I know about it if I wasn’t?”

“Are you a healer?”

This prompted a laugh so loud the trees shook.

“Oh sweet Hylia if I was a healer, I would kill someone. How ironic would that be? A healer killing someone? I’m not a healer, but I know a really good one. 150 percent care garunteed. If I’m going to help you though, I’m going to have to ask you to put away the swords” the voice almost sounded apologetic.

Wild weighed the options in his head. On one hand, they could let the crazy tree voice who somehow knew his name help them. On the other hand, they could watch Twilight die. Putting it like that, the answer was more than obvious. He looked over to Time. He gave a slight nod, motioning to the others to put their weapons away.

“Excellent.”

With a rustle of leaves, a green-clad hooded figure dropped out of the trees in front of them. A mask covered the lower half of his face, accenting blue eyes that sparkled in the twilight. He took quick steps to where Twilight laid. Gloved hands rummaged in a bag at his hips, producing a vial of a pale looking liquid, bandages, and red potion.

“See, the first mistake you made was not carrying antidote with you.” He said. “A Blademaster always coats their sword with poison before a fight. Thats why your fairy didn’t really work.”

The implications of those three sentences worried Wild. Firstly, it meant Twilight had been poisoned. Second, it meant that the tree voice had been around when he used that fairy almost three hours ago.

The figure uncorked the bottle and tipped Twilight’s chin up slightly, pouring the contents of the vial into his mouth. Twilight gulped the unknown substance, apparently unaware a complete stranger had fed him it. The tree boy then went soaking the bandages in red potion, rewrapping Twilight’s wounds. Satisfied, he stood back and admired his handiwork.

“And there you go,” he said cheerily. “Now he wont die of poison.”

“You mean he might die of something else?” Legend practically screamed.

“Well, I mean yeah. Do you know how many things out here could kill you?” He started listing things off his fingers. “He lost a lot of blood, he might die of exhaustion, and spontaneous combustion is always on the table. Do you know how terrifying that would be? One minute you’re here, the next your body gets relocated to the Sacred Realm via a fiery demise. Honestly, how are more people not worried about it?”

That was an unexpected tangent, but Wild had to admit, he could see Twilight breathing quite a lot easier. He turned to the tree boy.

“Do you have a name?”

He laughed merrily, blue eyes dancing.

“I sure hope so. I’m Link.”

__

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

Legend honestly didn’t know what he had expected. Hylia just loved throwing them curveballs, and a crazy tree person who happened to have a whole infirmary’s worth of medical supplies at the exact time they needed it could have only been a Link.

They were all sitting around the campfire now, crazy tree Link included. He was wiry, but small, barely grazing Time’s shoulder. Wild golden curls tumbled down his back, secured with a band. Some ringlets escaped to frame a face containing the most freckles Legend had ever seen on a living person. Link had explained to Wild that he had followed him out of the village because he wanted to help. He stayed in the trees because he couldn’t figure out if they were hostile or not. Thats how he was able to figure out his name. Satisfied with that answer, Wild hade made them all soup, and he was happily slurping it down. Hyrule had woken up a while ago, and was wildly confused at the sight of another person who definitely hadn’t been there when he passed out. Time had explained the whole strange situation. Twilight had also woken up thanks to the pale potion and bandages, and was sipping soup slowly with the help of Sky.

Warriors cleared his throat.

“So, Link,” he said, putting emphasis on the name. “ Can you explain to us what the hell happened back at the town?”

“Well there’s not much to say there. You guys pissed off the Yiga and they retaliated. Honestly, you guys need to be more careful.”

Warriors sighed.

“Thats not what I meant. I mean why were they there.”

“Thats also pretty self explanatory. You waltzed into a Yiga occupied village. Are you guys ok? How do you not know any of this?”

“He means why are they here. In Hyrule. Now. How long have they been here? And why hasn’t anyone done anything about it? Shouldn’t the princess know about this?” Wild leveled an intense stare at Link.

He set his spoon down, staring down into his bowl.

“Wow, you guys are really far behind,” he said quietly. “The Yiga have been here for almost twenty five years.”

“Twenty five years?” Wild gasped.

Link nodded. “They took over when my parents were kids. From what I can piece together, a powerful warlock invaded Hyrule and all the major settlements with the help of the Yiga Clan. A lot of people were killed, including most of the people who were in the castle,” he finished quietly. “They’ve been here ever since.”

Ganon. Legend thought. That bastard pig was at it again. It was becoming clearer by the minute why they had been called here.

Wild started hyperventilating.

“No, that cant be right. They were supposed to be gone.”

“What about the hero?” Sky asked. “Surely they should have done something.”

Link’s eyes went stormy. “You think the ‘hero’ could possibly help?” He said with an edge to his voice.

“The hero, if they exist, was probably killed twenty five years ago. And if they are alive, they’re a coward. I’ve been in this fight since I was practically born, and they haven’t even made their supposed existence known. The hero is only a bedtime story for people who have lost hope.” Link finished with a growl.

That did not bode well. Where was the hero? Could he be dead? That wasn’t possible. They’re had to be a hero, right? Maybe the kid in front of them was just a Link by coincidence. Hell, he didn’t even believe in the hero. Legend started to wonder how many of the people in this Hyrule shared the same sentiment.

Now Sky was hyperventilating along with Wild.

“But someone should have taken up the mantle. What about the Master Sword? Surely someone should have pulled it by now.” Sky’s voice trembled.

Link finally looked up, eyes dark.

“Wow.” He whispered to himself. “You guys must live in a hole.”

“What do you mean?” Time said, voice grave.

Link locked eyes with Time, eyes just as serious.

“The Master Sword doesn’t exist. It was shattered twenty years ago.”

#linked universe #chiaroscuro fic #sapphie writes

[sohotthateveryonedied]

What Will You Fall For?

Read here on AO3!

Summary: 

“Either you choose, or I make the decision for you and they both die.” The man lowers his pistol to point at Damian’s temple. The boy looks more offended than scared, given that he’s stuck next to Tim with a gun being waved in his face as if he doesn’t deal with this every night. But they aren’t vigilantes right now. They are Bruce Wayne and his sons.

“Choose.” “Put the gun down.” “Choose.” “Please. You don’t have to do this.” The man’s grip on the gun tightens. Bruce doesn’t recognize him, didn’t recognize his face when he first burst into Bruce’s office. Wayne security must not have been paying attention when he got into the building. Bruce barely looked up at first when the door to his office opened, too preoccupied with Damian and Tim arguing on the leather sofa, antsy for Bruce to drive them home. Bruce never anticipated that his day would end like this. “Either you choose, or I make the decision for you and they both die.” The man lowers his pistol to point at Damian’s temple. The boy looks more offended than scared, given that he’s stuck next to Tim with a gun being waved in his face as if he doesn’t deal with this every night. But they aren’t vigilantes right now. They are Bruce Wayne and his sons.

“You and I can settle this ourselves,” Bruce says. He’s standing behind his large oak desk, not daring to move forward in case the bastard gets trigger happy. “If it’s money you want, I can get you some. I don’t care how much.”

“You think I want your money?” The man turns, aims his shaking gun at Bruce. Bruce doesn’t mind, as long as it’s not pointing at his boys. “It was your job to clean up our city. That’s what you said. All of your programs, all your fundraising to fix up crime alley, you promised to help Gotham. And then my son dies in a gang war, all because Bruce Wayne failed him. You failed him.” “I am sorry for your loss, truly. But this isn’t the solution.” “This is justice. If I have to lose my son, then so do you.” The man swivels again, his gun pointing right at Damian’s chest. Tim’s eyes widen and he looks desperately at Bruce, pleading for him to get them out of this. Damian, meanwhile, just scowls. “That’s right, cower behind your big gun. Why don’t you put down the weapon and fight me like a real man?” “Now would be a really good time for you to shut up,” Tim hisses. “No one asked for your opinion, Drake.” “He’s pointing a gun at your chest. I think I have pretty good reason to speak my mind right now.” “What, is someone scared of a little bullet?” “Why do you have to be such a prick all the time?” Bruce wants to tell them to stop, that now isn’t the time for their ceaseless bickering. He pressed the emergency button under his desk to signal their allies five minutes ago, so someone must be on their way to get them out of this. All they have to do is keep him talking until help arrives. Bruce already watched two people he loved get shot in front of him. He’s not about to witness it again. “It’s me you have a problem with, not them. They’re just kids. If you want to shoot someone who deserves it, then shoot me.” Bruce has enough bullet scars to play endless connect-the-dots. So long as the man has poor aim, Bruce is pretty sure he has a solid thirty percent chance of survival. He’s willing to take those odds. “Sorry, Mr. Wayne, but you don’t get off that easy. You deserve to feel the pain I felt when my son died.” He pulls the hammer back, raising the gun to point between Damian’s eyes. “Your time is up. Pick who dies, or I’ll kill both of them.” “Bruce,” Tim says. His eyes are narrowed, far too calm for this situation. He gulps when the gun twitches his way but doesn’t break. “It’s okay.” Nothing about this is okay. All of Bruce’s stashed gear and weapons are in the locked cabinet across the room. If he tries something now, it means a bullet through his ten-year-old’s brain matter. “He’s just a kid,” Tim agrees, as if reading Bruce’s thoughts. That’s when it finally sinks in what Tim is really talking about. “It’s okay. I won’t blame you.” “No.” “You have to choose one of us.” “I said no.” “You would rather lose another child?” He’s talking about Jason. That’s as low a blow as Tim knows how to give. “You’re my child too. I’m not losing either of you today.” Tim’s gaze is firm when he turns to face the man. “Shoot me.” “Tim,” Bruce snaps. “It’s me or Damian, and I’m not letting him die. Do it,” he tells the man. “Kill me.” “This is ridiculous,” Damian spits. “Really, Father, this idiot probably couldn’t hit a target with two eyes and a—” The air cracks with a gunshot, followed by a grunt. Bruce’s entire body goes numb and for the second time in his life, he can’t think. His entire mind goes blank, like it’s been reset to its default settings. He can’t move. He can’t speak. He can’t breathe. He scans Damian for the bullet hole, the blood, but he doesn’t find it and he should be relieved. Why isn’t he relieved? Bruce’s eyes flick to his other son and his lungs feel like they’re being squeezed in a giant fist. Blood pours from a spot in Tim’s chest, staining his white shirt in red splotches. No. Bruce barely has time to move before suddenly a batarang crashes in through the window behind him. It sinks into the man’s shoulder, making him shout and drop the gun. That turns out to be the push Bruce’s brain needed because he lunges into action. He delivers a punch so hard it rattles his skeleton and sends the man sprawling on the floor. Nightwing swings in through the shattered window. “Sorry I’m late. Is everyone okay?” “Father,” Damian says, drawing Bruce’s attention. His small hands are pressed against the wound, trying to keep as much of Tim’s blood inside of his chest as possible. Blood slips between his fingers anyway with every wheezing breath Tim takes.. “Get a medic,” Bruce orders Dick. He balls up his suit jacket and pushes away Damian’s hands, pressing the jacket to where the blood is pouring out. Tim’s face is contorted in pain, but he doesn’t make a sound. “Tim, are you with me?” “Is...is Damian okay?” “You shouldn’t have told him to shoot you. That was the stupidest thing you could have done.” “What should I have done?” “Not let him shoot you.” “Then it would be Damian instead. Is that—is that what you want?” Bruce doesn’t answer. It’s not what he wants. He wants all of his children safe and alive for as long as he can enforce it. What’s happening now, this isn’t fair. This isn’t justice. Tim coughs, wet and hacking. Blood stains his lips and chin. Damn it. There’s blood in his lungs. He doesn’t have much time. “Stay with me, Tim. Dick’s already called the paramedics, they’ll be here soon.” “Y’shouldn’t...shouldn’t use names. Identities.” Bruce looks over to where Dick has already cuffed the shooter and is dragging him out of the room. The security guards must be running late, their second failure of the day. Bruce is going to have to do something about that. “It’s not your fault,” Tim says. At first Bruce assumes he’s talking to him, but then he sees that Tim’s glazed eyes are actually on Damian. Damian, who is doing his best to push down the emotion he feels. Damian, whose hands are covered in Tim’s blood. “I know. This is all your fault.” Tim laughs, but it’s weak. “You’re just a—just a kid. You h-haven’t lived yet.” Every breath is a wheeze, Tim’s chest jerking painfully under the pressure Bruce applies. It won’t be enough. Tim needs a hospital now. “Hey, Bruce? Tell the others—” “No. You’re not dying.” “I might.” He’s too pale. How much blood has he lost? “You’re not. I won’t let you. Now shut up and keep breathing.” Tim’s eyes droop. “S’always weird...seeing you scared.” He coughs again, weaker than before. More blood splatters on his lips. “Don’t die,” Damian tells him, gripping Tim’s hand tighter and sounding too much like the child he is. “I swear to god, if you die, I will go to Hell myself and drag you back. You’re too annoying to die. Got it?” The corner of Tim’s mouth lifts. “‘Kay,” he whispers. “I’ll do it for you.”

#whumptober 2020 #batfamily #batfam #bruce wayne #batman #tim drake #red robin #idiot duckboy #damian wayne #robin #dc comics #fanfiction #fanfic #no.2 #pick who dies

[crazyasacupcake]

A Clown Called Saviour

Here's a fic inspired by the Harvest Festival scene from The Only Thing Worse Than Me Is You by Lily Anderson :D

This work includes mentions of clowns, vomit, and panic attacks, so if you have coulrophobia, emetophobia, or are triggered by panic attacks in any way, then I would suggest not reading this piece.

Genre: Light Angst, Comfort, no romance

Summary: When someone has a breakdown in the middle of a meant-to-be fun Haunted House attraction, one scare actor steps up to help lead the visitor out safely, but maybe they should have just left it alone.

Characters: G/N Reader, Tooru Oikawa, Shoyo Hinata, Kei Tsukishima, Tobio Kageyama

Word Count: 2989

You can also read the work on Archive of Our Own!

You wring your hands as you wait outside the haunted house, the fake (were they fake?) screams emitting from inside making your stomach churn. Your friends didn’t seem too bothered, but then when did teenage boys ever show their fear?

“This is stupid,” Tsukishima says as he counts the correct amount of tokens out to pay for your tickets. “Why are we doing this again?”

“Hinata’s never been in one before,” the other surly one, Kageyama, points towards where Hinata is trying to contain his excitement, jumping from foot to foot in front of the sign.

“Hey! They haven’t been in one either!” The ginger one snaps his head around angrily, pointing towards you.

“I don’t particularly want to go in one.” You wish there was anything you could say that would make them let you stay outside, but you had promised; you had told Hinata that if they got past the first round of the Spring High Prelims, then you would personally take him to a haunted house. You hadn’t meant anything by it – not that you didn’t believe they would get through the first round, more that you didn’t believe Hinata would remember the promise you had made before nodding off on the bus. You wanted to die when he had entered the gym that Friday with the flyer for the Halloween Fair in the park, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say no to his beaming smile.

“Oh, come on! It’s not going to be that bad!” He gives you a wide grin, and you want to smile back but you know that it will just come out as a grimace if you try. Instead, you just stare at him, your lips set in a tight line.

“How come Tadashi doesn’t have to go in?”

“The last time Tadashi went in a haunted house, he threw up on one of the scare actors. I think it’s best for both him and everyone else that he stays outside.” Tsukki drops the unneeded tokens into his jacket pocket.

“What if I throw up on a scare actor?”

“Then we’ll know to leave you outside with Tadashi next time.”

He marches over to the attendant’s booth, where a bored teenager rests his head on the palm of his hand, where he exchanges Tsukki’s twelve tokens for four shiny black tickets (“Three tokens per ticket, at 700¥ per token! That’s practically robbery!”).

With a deep, shaking breath, you follow your boys into the house, giving Tadashi one final timid wave before stepping into the black of the first room.

If you weren’t standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Hinata, you’re pretty sure you would have lost him immediately. Most of the time when people enter darkness, they say they ‘can’t see two feet in front of them’, but you can barely see an inch. You can hear breathing: loud, rattling breaths merging with the sound of the blood pounding in your head. You feel like you were going to pass out.

“Move,” Tsukki pushes you from behind, not too hard but you stumble anyway. Your throat feels dry – was it always this hot in here? You clench and unclench your hands, the clamminess of your palms just making you more uncomfortable.

The first scare actor pops up, in a Michael Myers mask, wielding a chainsaw. If you were in a sound state of mind right now, you would tell yourself that this person is completely inaccurate to the character, and shouldn’t be a scare actor at all due to their lack of dedication. However, all rational (if that thought would have even been rational in the first place) thought has already left the building, and instead you ball your eyes shut and barrel past him with a scream at a pitch you didn’t even know you could hit.

You run blindly, feeling your shoulder collide with a doorway, only opening your eyes when the slight momentary pain jars you from your panic.

There are lights here, in this small corridor, bathing everything in a gross green tinge, and when you turn around you can’t see any of the boys behind you. You stick your head through the doorway, leaning out into another thin corridor. There are three other doorways lining the wall, and you realise they must have gone through a different one once you’d bolted. You realise that the only way to meet up with them is at the end, as you have no way of knowing which doorway they picked.

You look back to the corridor, your footsteps suddenly ten times heavier now that you didn’t have the two six-foot tall bullies behind you. Even your lungs feel heavy, every breath like you’re taking in water instead of air, like you’re about to drown.

Your head hurts.

Why did you agree to this?

Finally, you reach the end of the green corridor, swallowing thickly as you poke your head slowly into the room.

It’s as if your heart stops.

There are five of them (Scare actors, you tell yourself. They’re just actors.) stood in different areas of the room. It’s difficult to remember they’re just scare actors when they’re all stood facing you, wearing matching killer clown masks and outfits. The one closest to you is stood behind a pile of cardboard boxes, and you’re thankful that there’s at least something separating them from you. It’s as if they’re leering at you, even though the mask is fixed into the twisted smile of the clown; they’re looking at you as though they’re hungry, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

You edge along the wall, keeping your eyes on the one behind the boxes the whole time, until you realise you need to watch the others, too. Your hand shakes as you use it to feel your way along the wall, your stomach dropping when you have to take that first step away from the security the wall provided.

You can see the doorway, it’s straight ahead, just keep your eyes on the doorway and it’ll all be fine.

The one behind the boxes shifts their body so that they’re facing you, but you don’t look at them, closing your eyes for a second to tell yourself to just calm down.

They can’t hurt you, they can’t touch you, they’re just teenagers, just actors being paid to have a good time scaring other teenagers.

You’re halfway through the room, the door is right there, just don’t look at them.

The one to your right takes a lurching step forwards and you jump, tripping over your feet and falling backwards, landing hard on the floor. Your hands burn where they hit the concrete, and your arse is now throbbing, but your eyes are squeezed shut, your face twisted into a grimace as you try not to cry.

Your eyes are shut so tightly that stars begin to swim in the blackness, and you try to focus on the patterns and not the sound of the clown’s footsteps.

You press your hands over your ears, trying to tune it all out, trying to convince yourself that you’re still with the boys and you didn’t get separated – or better yet, that you’re waiting outside with Tadashi with a cup of tea warming your hands.

Your breathing is coming too hard, too fast, and you feel like your chest is about to explode, the pounding of your heart shattering your ribcage as it bursts from your body. You can’t get a full breath, the air stopping dead in your throat just before you can get a full lungful. You think you might pass out, your whole body feels as though it’s on fire, and you just wish that it was over, that you’re already outside, that you’ve completed the house without having a breakdown, that you don’t feel like you’re about to be murdered by a teenager in a clown mask.

The footsteps stop, and there’s a moment where you think about opening your eyes but you know that if you do you’re going to see the clown leaning right in front of you.

They’re just actors, they’re just teenagers, they can’t touch you, they can’t hurt you, they just want to scare you.

You swallow, almost gagging from the dryness of your mouth.

There’s wet on your cheek, you notice. You’re crying, the tears dripping hot and heavy down your face in your blind panic, and only when you notice the wetness of your face do you tune in to the sound of your loud sobs.

The footsteps to your right retreat, the clown slinking back to their original position.

Something touches your shoulder, and your brain goes haywire.

They’re not allowed to touch you so what just touched you was that a real clown ohmygod am I about to die what if he stabs me why is he touching me why is he touching me WHY IS HE TOUCHING ME

The thing shakes you slightly, enough to get you to open your eyes the tiniest bit before shutting them again once you see the mask to your left. They’re crouched down, balancing their weight on the balls of their feet beside you. They touch your wrist and you flinch, before they gently pry your hand away from your ear. You open your eyes again, focusing instead on the balloon that’s tied to their wrist, bobbing in the air with each movement of their arm.

They stand up, offering you their other hand to help you up, but you ignore it and stand up on your own. They nod at the clown across from them, and then they nod you towards the doorway.

You don’t move, swallowing once again, making sure you don’t look at the mask. You wipe your cheek with the heel of your hand.

The clown offers their arm to you, and when you don’t take it they make a flourishing bow gesture before offering it again. You giggle weakly, your head throbbing, and the clown points at you before giving you a thumbs up.

You take their arm, and they walk you out of the room, into another dim corridor.

“Thank you,” you whisper, surprised at the hoarseness of your voice. The clown just shrugs.

“Are you not allowed to talk?” The clown shakes their head, and you hear a bell ringing that must be attached to their collar. “I like the bell. It’s a nice touch.”

You stay silent for a moment, until you step into the next room and a man in a leather apron jumps out with a cleaver. With a squeal, you turn, curling into the clown’s side as you try to make yourself as small a target as possible, squeezing their arm a little bit too much. You’re surprised at the muscle you can feel through the costume; it reminds you of the times you’ve hugged any of the boys on your team when they win a game. It’s weird to think that an athlete would be doing something like this in his free time (as though your athlete friends aren’t currently in the same haunted house, albeit for a different purpose).

The clown clears their throat, and when you look at them, they make a gesture with their hand, one that seems to say if you talk it might help you calm down.

You think for a moment, unsure of what to say. “I’m only here because I promised my friends that if they got through the first round of the volleyball tournament then I’d go with them. And then we got split up. And Tadashi is only allowed to stay outside because he threw up on a scare actor once, so because I haven’t thrown up on a scare actor that means I had to go in.”

The clown makes a show of laughing silently, their shoulders shaking as they clutch their chest with their other hand.

“But I just hope it doesn’t worry Hinata too much because I know he can talk a big game but he’s really a huge wuss – I mean, before our practice game against Aoba Johsai he was jumping off the walls until it actually came about, then he threw up on the bus and was mainly the reason we lost the first set – don’t tell him I said any of this will you?” You don’t know why you ask – there’s no way they know who Hinata is.

The clown shakes their head, making an exaggerated cross over where their heart would be.

Another scare actor jumps out with a shrill scream, and you close your eyes with a shaking breath before continuing.

“I think Aoba Johsai is our biggest problem – we only won the practice match because their normal setter wasn’t there for the first two sets, and even then, it was a close call. And then we played them during the Inter-High in full sets, but we still lost in the end. I just hope that all the work they’ve put in over summer pays off, and I hope they don’t let him land any service aces, the cocky bastard.”

You enter the next room – how many rooms are there? The clown tilts their head slightly, like a puppy dog.

“The Aoba Johsai setter, Tooru Oikawa. He’s a complete jerk. At least the other teams we play are likeable, he’s like a movie villain – especially in the way he seems to exist just to annoy Kageyama.”

Their arm tenses, but you either don’t notice or you don’t care.

“He’s so full of himself – did you know he was almost late to their first game in the Inter-High because he was too busy flirting with his little fangirls. And that’s another thing! Who has fangirls as a high school athlete? No wonder he’s so self-centred, they’re just inflating his ego all the time. God! He thinks he’s the best person in the world, but he’s not; just because you can serve really well and set really well and spike really well doesn’t mean that you’re God’s gift to volleyball.”

They nod slowly. You’re almost through the last room – you can see the torn sign on the door that reads You Made It… Or Did You?

“He’s infuriating! He’s just so smug and you can just tell that he thinks he’s the smartest person ever – well, Tooru Oikawa, you aren’t a genius.” You’re surprised at how angry Oikawa makes you, but you’re thankful for the anger that thinking about him creates as your fear is basically non-existent at this point.

The clown shoves the door open with their left shoulder, holding it open for you to be able to slip out into the cold night air, which feels lovely against your warm skin.

They do another exaggerated bow, the balloon bobbing and blowing about in the breeze. They turn to go back into the house, back to their original room.

“Wait!” You’re surprised by the sudden force in your voice. The clown stops, and turns back towards you, tilting their head to the side in question. “Will you be at the preliminaries on Thursday?” A nod. “Come and find me and I’ll buy you a water for your trouble.”

You pause, watching them, waiting to see if they’ll reply. They don’t.

“Thank you. Truly, thank you, so much.” You let out a short laugh. “Who would’ve thought my saviour would be a murderous clown? Thank you once again, Hero Clown.”

The clown makes one final bow, the bell tinkling, and gives you a wave with a wiggle of their white-gloved fingers. Then, they turn for the last time and disappear back into the house.

“Where did you go?” Tsukki’s voice makes you turn around, and you see the three of them stood there watching you. Tsukki looks bored. Hinata isn’t wearing his jumper anymore.

“Where’s your jumper, ginger?” You ask, ignoring Tsukki’s question and walking over to meet them so you can begin your exit out of the park. He holds up a plastic bag that he didn’t have before.

“Hinata threw up on a scare actor.” Tsukki answers. “That means that next time Hinata can wait outside with Tadashi.”

On the twenty fifth of October, you stand inside the Sendai City Gym with the boys, cradling three of their water bottles against your chest. All of you are staring at the schedule as you wait for your first game – the game against Johzenji – to begin. Nishinoya sits on the floor in front of you as he stretches, before he yawns and holds his hand out for one of the bottles. You roll your eyes, unsurprised from his lack of a please.

Before you can pass him one, though, someone behind you grabs one of them from your hands, and you wheel around in shock to see Tooru Oikawa of Aoba Johsai drink half of the bottle in one go.

“What…is wrong with you?” You snap, snatching the bottle back from his hands. “Who do you think I am, your servant? I’m not one of your stupid little fangirls! Drink your own team’s water!”

He tilts his head with a smirk, but you can tell there’s something weird about it. Maybe it’s the way his eyes aren’t as bright as they normally are whenever he teases the opposition, maybe it’s how it’s more like a sneer than a smirk.

Nishinoya stands up, and you put your arm out to keep him at bay. You don’t need the feral chihuahua to back you up against Tooru Oikawa of all people.

“Don’t worry about it, Little Karasuno-chan. Your debt is paid.” Oikawa’s words are laced with… something.

“My debt? I don’t know what you’re on about, mister, so you’d better-”

The realisation slams into you like a truck going a hundred miles an hour.

“Come find me and I’ll buy you a bottle of water for your trouble.”

You feel your stomach drop.

Oh no.

#haikyu x reader #haikyu fanfiction #tooru oikawa #oikawa tooru #g/n reader #shoyo hinata #hinata shoyo #tsukishima #kei tsukishima #the only thing worse than me is you #lily anderson #tobio kageyama #karasuno reader #karasuno #aoba johsai #also on ao3 #ao3 link #comfort #light angst

[sevlgi]

white knight

requested: yes

group: red velvet

pairing: irene x fem!reader

genre: fluff, mild angst

contents: college!au, scaredy cat!irene

warnings: swearing

synopsis: Irene isn’t looking to be saved by a white knight, but she can’t help falling for you when you rescue her. From a spider. In a college dorm.

a/n: i’m sorry for how long this took me 😂 I hope you enjoy!

word count: 3.8k

It’s not a super fun thing to be woken up by a blood-curdling scream at 4 in the morning.

The hallways and rooms of your dorm building are especially echoey, causing the scream to sound like it’s erupting right next to you. Considering that you’re not a heavy sleeper, it’s pretty damn terrifying.

“Shit,” you gasp, fumbling to get out of bed. Your dorm is pitch dark, as it has been for the past week or so while most people in your building have been gone for winter break. You thought you were the last one left, but clearly, that’s not true. “What the hell?”

The scream sounds again, louder and shriller this time, and you wince, stuffing your feet into shoes that you’re sure don’t match and grabbing the heaviest textbook you can find. Your campus is supposed to be pretty safe, but judging by the screams, there’s probably a serial killer on campus, and you’ll definitely die fighting them off.

It’s not hard to find the room of the screamer; it’s the only door ajar at the end of the hallway, bright light spilling out from inside. Honestly, it’s weird for a killer to keep the door open and the lights on, but your sleep-deprived brain doesn’t make much of it, and you kick the door open violently.

There’s an ugly cracking sound as the doorknob slams into the wall, but you’re focused on the fact that there’s definitely not a killer in the dorm. No, there’s only one person inside, a petite girl in a bathrobe and face mask, standing on top of her bed and screaming at the open door of the bathroom. “What- did you crack my wall?” she demands, staring at you.

“I- that doesn’t matter, what the fuck are you screaming at?”

She points a shaking hand at the bathroom, and you’re half-expecting to see a rabid dog or a dead body. Instead, it takes almost a full minute for you to find the spider on the tiled floor. “The fuck- you’re screaming about a spider?” you groan, already wishing you didn’t get out of bed for this.

The girl frowns and crosses her arms. “Well, yes. Spiders are scary. If you don’t mind, could you kill it? You did break my wall.”

You smash it with your foot, scraping it along the floor to leave a streak of spider guts. The girl’s still staring at her gross floor when you whirl around with your hands on your hips, about to give her a piece of your mind. “Why the hell? You gotta be more considerate, it’s 4 in the morning and you’re screaming your head off about a tiny-ass bug.”

“It’s not my fault I have arachnophobia,” she snaps back, and you bristle at the audacity. “I mean, I didn’t ask for some white-knight wannabe to burst in and ruin my wall.”

“Wh-” you sputter. Drawing yourself up to your full considerably unimpressive height, you spit out, “Well, fuck you. Next time there’s an actual serial killer, I’ll just leave you here to be smeared on the floor like that goddamn spider. Again, fuck you!”

“Wannabe,” she calls out behind you, muffled when you slam the door shut. You want to believe it’s a fever dream, but the reality of it is that you have a rude-ass neighbor with a horror movie scream, and you didn’t get enough sleep to survive class.

All a day in the life of a college student, right?

“Pleeeaaasseeee.”

You glare menacingly at Jisoo, who doesn’t even flinch. “No.”

“Come on,” your roommate pleads, tugging on your arm. She’s all too used to your stubbornness to give up on something she wants you to do now. “Please? I really want you to meet Jennie!”

“Come on, Jisoo,” you sigh, still typing away at the essay you started an hour too late. “You’re dating the most popular girl on campus, and you want me to come to dinner with the two of you?” At Jisoo’s nod, you roll your eyes and ignore her pout. “You’re kidding.”

The brunette groans; even her patience has a limit. “Jennie’s so sweet, she’ll love you! Besides, she’s bringing her roommate.”

“Should I care?”

“A really hot roommate,” Jisoo amends. “Absolutely your type. I’ve met her, she’s so gorgeous. Her name is Joohyun, and she’s a year above you, I think. She’s super pretty and super sweet and I’m pretty sure she’s super gay-”

Your hand, clamped over Jisoo’s mouth, cuts off the flow of unnecessary information. Honestly, even the mention of a pretty girl isn’t enough to get you to want to go to dinner with your roommate and her uber-popular girlfriend, but you know Jisoo will just reschedule if you don’t come and nag you until you agree. “Fine. I’ll come, but I won’t be happy about it.”

“Trust me, you’ll definitely be happy,” Jisoo squeals, pressing an exaggerated kiss to your forehead before leaving the room, probably to tell her girlfriend the news.

You don’t pay any attention to your easily excited best friend, simply continuing to type away. The mention of dinner with a pretty girl quickly slips away to the back of your mind, a vague throb in the background.

“I think I see them,” Jisoo tells you with a huge grin on her face. You’re sitting in a booth opposite her, and you’ve been ignoring your roommate’s hands tapping at the table for at least 20 minutes now.

“You said that 10 minutes ago,” you grumble, flipping through the menu. Honestly, one of the only things that got you to agree to the stupid dinner was the promise of food, and your mouth is practically watering at the pictures of ramen on the menu. “Are you sure it’s them?”

Your roommate quickly smooths her hair down, grabbing your face to check your makeup and ignoring your disgruntled noise. “Yes, I’m sure. Can you at least smile?”

Luckily, there’s no more time for Jisoo to fuss over you; you spot Jennie first, recognizing her by her cute gummy smile and expensive perfume. However, when your eyes travel to the girl behind Jennie, your jaw drops in time with hers.

To anyone else, it would seem like you’re simply shocked by how pretty the girl is, and that’s partially true. ‘Joohyun’, as you remember, is absolutely gorgeous, to the point where she seems unreal. Porcelain skin, glossy raven hair, and dark eyes widened in shock make her easily the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen.

However, you can’t help but see a face mask and bathrobe that no one else can see, and you can hear an ear-piercing scream rattling in your ears. Maybe Joohyun sees the oversized shirt you wore that night, a shoe in your hand that you used to smash a stupid spider.

Either way, you’re not letting Jisoo know about what you did.

Extending your hand with the fakest smile you can muster, you introduce yourself. “Hi, Joohyun, right? I’m Y/N.”

“Um, yeah. Hi.” After taking your hand, she slides into the booth next to you, although you’re sure she’s almost hanging off the edge with how much space is between the two of you. You’re the direct opposites of Jennie and Jisoo, who are practically glued together opposite you.

Jisoo’s oblivious, but she’s not oblivious enough to miss the tension between you, and Jennie has practically no tact. Her sharp eyes observe the icy stare Joohyun gives you and she asks, “Do you two know each other?”

“No,” Joohyun answers immediately, her cold expression melting into a sweet smile when she looks to her roommate. “She just looks like someone I met a few days ago. Remember the girl I told you about?”

“Yeah,” Jennie laughs, covering her smile with her hand. “Yeah, I remember. You still haven’t fixed that crack in our wall, you know.”

You pray that Jisoo doesn’t ask for details, but of course, she does. “What crack?” she smiles, eyes lighting up at the promise of a story. Really, Jisoo?

“Oh, you know how everyone was gone for winter break?” Joohyun smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear. It’s not fair how gorgeous she looks. “There was a spider in my bathroom, so obviously I screamed.”

“Are spiders that scary?” you can’t help yourself from blurting out. Jisoo raises an eyebrow at you. “I mean, it couldn’t have been too big.”

“Anyway,” Joohyun continues, fully ignoring you. You bristle at her dismissive attitude, but stay silent to hear whatever lies she’s spinning about you. “This girl busts into my dorm and throws the door open so hard that it makes a huge crack in the wall!”

“Damn,” Jisoo comments. You want to glare at her, but that’ll just be painfully obvious. “Who was she?”

The brunette beside you laughs, shaking her head. “I don’t know! But I fully intend to find her and make her pay for my wall. To be honest, she looked a lot like Y/N, about this tall, with this hair color too. Even her face looks similar!”

“That’s funny,” Jennie chimes in now. “You should try your best to find her then, if you’ve got Y/N as a reference. It’s gonna be expensive to fix up the wall. Do you think we’ll get in trouble with administration?”

Jisoo shakes her head, and you watch on helplessly as your roommate digs you into an even bigger hole. “You won’t if you fix it in time. Y/N can help you guys!”

“Really?” Two sets of eyes turn skeptically onto you. 

“I own a kit to fill in walls,” you blurt out, cursing internally. Honestly, you want to slap yourself. “Yeah, I can help you guys fill in the crack. It’ll look like nothing happened.”

Jennie offers you a gummy smile. “That’d be great! Would tomorrow work for you?”

All of a sudden, Joohyun’s eyes grow wide and she protests, “Neither of us will be home though, maybe we should wait until you have a free day?”

“Nonsense, you’ll be there. You don’t have class tomorrow, remember?” Jennie grins, flapping her hand and looking down at the menu. “You can stop by anytime, Y/N. Now, should we order? I’ll pay.”

As your roommate cooes about how considerate her girlfriend is, you studiously avoid Joohyun’s eyes. Honestly, you have no idea if you’ll survive tomorrow, not if you’re faced with a hot girl with an obvious grudge against you.

Fuck.

“Uh, would you mind opening the door a little more?”

Joohyun stares at you suspiciously through the tiny crack that she’s opened the door. You can’t help but notice how pretty she looks, hair up in a messy ponytail and dressed in a simple white shirt, but you school your expression into a frown to mirror hers. “Step away first.”

“What the fuck,” you sigh, shifting the spackling kit under your arm. “I’m not gonna slam the goddamn door again, just open it and let me in. Or do you want to explain to administration why you have a crack in your wall?”

“Because you’re an asshole,” she mumbles, opening the door just enough for you to squeeze through. “Who the hell barges into someone else’s dorm at 2 in the morning?”

“It was 4 in the morning,” you snap back, although there’s a twinge of guilt in your chest at the sight of the huge crack in the wall. The cracks aren’t wide, thank god, but there’s a lot of them. “And I barged in because I thought you were being murdered! Who the hell screams like that because of a tiny-ass spider?”

She hesitates at that, and you smirk, satisfied. Crossing her arms, Joohyun scowls, “Whatever. So, am I supposed to pay you for this or something? I don’t know how much I’d usually pay to get someone to do this for me, so don’t overcharge.”

You stare at her, at the brown eyes darting to look at anywhere but you. “What? Jesus, I’m not that much of an asshole. You don’t have to pay.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, the fuck?” you mumble, starting to open the kit you’ve set on the floor. “Did you think that little of me?”

Joohyun rolls her eyes, but you think you can see the tiniest bit of a smile tugging at her lip. “I mean, you did make that crack. It’s the least you can do.”

‘“Look, I feel bad about the crack, but you didn’t need to embarrass me in front of my roommate. You made it painfully obvious that the asshole you were talking about was me,” you frown, looking up at her.

She wordlessly places a cup of water by you, settling down in a chair a few feet away with a thoughtful twist to her brow. “Mm. Whatever, it got you to fix my wall for free.”

“Yeah, and I’m not doing it again. I’m keeping my promise that if you get murdered next time, I’m not coming to save you.”

“Sure you will,” Joohyun laughs, and you can’t help but stare at the way her eyes shine.

Suddenly, you’re not sure you will either.

The next time you see Joohyun is a few days later at 2 in the morning in the communal washing machine area.

“We’ve got to stop meeting at ass o’clock in the morning” is your greeting to her.

She looks tired, you note, although you’re sure you do too. There’s only 6 washing machines in a floor with a couple hundred students, so ass o’clock of the morning is usually when you come to steal two of the machines for you and Jisoo. Whenever Jisoo agrees to do the laundry, she miraculously finds an empty machine at a convenient time, but you’re nowhere near as lucky.

“Hey, Y/N,” Joohyun yawns, rubbing at her eyes. She’s carrying an empty hamper, probably for clothes she washed earlier. You wonder which one of the swirling machines is hers. “It seems that this is the only time of day you’re awake.”

To be honest, you don’t appreciate being teased for your choice of afternoon classes to preserve your sleep, and you tell Joohyun so. However, you do appreciate the small smile that cracks her usually impassive face. “Anyways, need help?”

“What?”

“Need. Help?” you say again, enunciating the words exaggeratedly and earning a halfhearted slap. She doesn’t respond, only opening two of the still machines. “Really, two machines? How many clothes do you have?”

“Some are Jennie’s,” Joohyun scowls, flipping a shirt more aggressively than strictly necessary. “I think some are Jisoo’s too.”

You snort, holding a pink shirt that you’re sure belongs to your roommate. “I better not find any underwear or something.”

“With how often Jisoo sleeps over, I wouldn’t be surprised,” the other girl sighs. “Seriously, how did you not meet Jennie before that dinner?”

“Apparently, Jisoo didn’t want me to get the wrong impression by hearing them fuck in the other room or something.”

“How considerate,” Joohyun says dryly, and you don’t manage to suppress your laugh. When you calm down, you realize that Joohyun’s staring at you, though she quickly averts her eyes. “No, I’m serious. I heard Jennie moan Jisoo’s name enough times before I met her that i didn’t even need to be introduced.”

You scrunch your nose, observing the neat way the other girl folds her laundry and copying. “Gross. I thought Jisoo would be the loud one.”

“No, she’s pretty loud too.”

“Oh, ew,” you protest. “I mean, that can be hot sometimes, but Jisoo probably sounds like a dying duck.”

“And you don’t?” Joohyun shoots back. Almost immediately, her pale cheeks color to a deep pink, even though you didn’t have remotely enough time to make an innuendo in your head. “Oh my god, that’s not what I meant, I don’t care what you sound like-”

“Shut up, I didn’t even think of that,” you snort, still folding laundry. “You’ve got a crazy dirty mind if you immediately connected those two things.”

Joohyun throws a shirt at your face and you yelp, catching it only to throw it back. Somehow, it breaks the tension and you both start laughing, folding laundry while exchanging jabs at your respective roommates.

Maybe she’s not as bad as you thought.

It becomes almost a tradition to meet at the laundry room at 2 in the morning on Fridays. The next time is accidental, but after that, you’re sure that Joohyun’s making changes to her schedule just to catch you doing your and your roommate’s laundry and joke with you.

You become sort-of-friends, although you rarely hang out outside of folding shirts together. Sometimes, when Jisoo and Jennie are being gross together, one of you will escape to the others’ dorm, but that’s about it.

What worries you is the not-so-friendly thoughts you begin to have about Joohyun. Sometimes, you can’t seem to stop staring at the girl’s lips, and you feel the itch to hold her hand. 

It’s weird.

Therefore, you’ve been forcing Jisoo to do the laundry for the last week and keeping out of your dorm to avoid seeing your sort-of-friend.

You’re only home when Jennie comes knocking because Jisoo makes you stay home while she goes out with friends. You really can’t fathom who’s at your door, so you yank it open.

“Um… hi?” Jennie offers, a sheepish smile on her face. “I brought dessert.” True to her word, her arms are laden with boxes upon boxes of sweets, all of them your favorites.

“Is this a bribe?” You wince at the words that come out, knowing that they sound accusing. “Sorry, just…”

Jennie shrugs, placing the boxes on a table. “I mean, you’re not wrong. I am bribing you.”

Shoving a pastry in your mouth, you cross your arms and try not to look smug. “What for? You’ve got me in a good mood, it’s in your favor to ask now.”

Your roommate’s girlfriend laughs, hesitantly taking one of the desserts when you offer them. “Well. Jisoo and I actually had a really nice date planned for Valentine’s Day, but we can’t go. You probably know Jisoo has a family emergency, right?”

You manage to nod sympathetically despite your cheeks being stuffed full of sweets. “I’m going with her, she’s so worried that I don’t trust her to fly across the country on her own. But we don’t want our date to go to waste.”

“Okay, but what does this have to do with me?”

Jennie shifts, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Right, so Joohyun’s willing to go on the date, but I don’t want her to do it all alone. Would you be willing to go with her?”

At your slight frown, she rambles, “It doesn’t have to be a date for you guys, it’s just a nice dinner! You know, it can just be a nice hangout between friends who definitely don’t have feelings for each other.”

“Do you know something?” There’s a slight jump in your pulse; there’s no way Jennie could know that you might have feelings for her roommate, but you’re nervous nonetheless. What if she’s told Joohyun?

She blushes, chewing lightly on her lower lip. “Of course not! So. Will you do it?”

It barely takes a moment of thinking for you to say, “Sure, I’ll go on a date with Joohyun.” You wince lightly at the blunt way you said it, clarifying, “A not-date. With my friend.”

“Good,” Jennie sighs, standing. She returns to her confident popular-girl image with a smile, handing you a little envelope with a time and date written on it. “Have fun.”

“I will,” you mumble, staring at the envelope.

What have you got to be nervous about? You’re just hanging out with your friend, who you definitely don’t have feelings for and who definitely doesn’t have feelings for you either.

Right?

You really don’t know why you spend almost an hour getting ready for your not-date when you usually wouldn’t care what you wore to hang out with friends.

It feels stupid to frown at your simple outfit while piles of clothes surround you. Just on time, you hear Joohyun’s knock, 3 quick raps as always. 

“Hi,” you manage to get out, sounding more breathless than you’d like. She looks perfect as always, but she looks just as flustered as you feel. “Um, let’s go?”

“Right, yeah,” Joohyun mutters, shaking her head and walking faster than she should. “My car’s this way.”

Both of you are uncharacteristically quiet on the way to the car and even more so when Joohyun starts driving. It’s awkward, and you’re sure it has something to do with the fact that you have feelings for her.

You can’t muster up the courage to say something, but you remain silent until the two of you order food. Suddenly, Joohyun groans out, “This is so awkward.”

“Right?” Glancing around you to make sure people aren’t staring, you slump a bit, shaking your head. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” She raises an eyebrow, sipping at the cup of wine she holds. “It’s not your fault, it’s just weird for us to be on a date when we’re just friends.”

As you frown, you can’t help but notice the slight blush on Joohyun’s cheekbones. “I mean, my feelings for you have got to make it weird, right?”

Immediately, Joohyun spits out the mouthful of unfortunately expensive wine, hacking and coughing as she stares at you. “Wh- feelings!?”

You can’t help the dark red flush rising to your face, definitely less flattering than Joohyun’s own. “Shut up, Jennie told me you knew.”

“I don’t,” she says, looking thoroughly convinced. “I was being awkward because I thought Jennie told you about my feelings.”

“Your feelings? What feelings?” You do your best not to be so loud when the other customers start looking your way, but you can’t help the shocked expression on your face.

Joohyun scowls now, staring anywhere but at you. “The same feelings as yours, idiot. Romantic ones, not-friends ones! Want-to-kiss-you feelings, want-to-go-on-dates-with-you feelings!”

“What…?” Realization dawns over you, your mouth forming a little ‘o’. “Jennie and Jisoo knew. They told each other about our feelings and set us up! I’ll bet they didn’t even have a dinner reservation!”

The girl opposite you groans, shaking her head. “Oh, this is so like them. They’re so meddling, I’m going to give them a piece of my mind once they get back!”

“Same.” You sit in silence for barely another moment before you blurt out, “So, you like me back?”

“Yes, you idiot,” Joohyun scowls, tossing her napkin at your head as if it can block the growing grin on your face. “Now shut up and enjoy the food.”

You do as you’re told, but dinner is definitely less awkward once the truth’s out. A weight is lifted from your shoulders now that your feelings are reciprocated, and you catch Joohyun smiling at you as if she feels the same way.

Maybe you don’t regret getting up to kill that spider after all. It’s still undecided.

#red velvet #red velvet x reader #red velvet joohyun #red velvet irene #bae joohyun #bae irene #red velvet imagines #red velvet reactions #red velvet smut #red velvet drabbles #red velvet icons #red velvet incorrect quotes #red velvet reveluv #joohyun icons #joohyun headers #irene icons #irene x reader #irene lockscreens #irene fluff #irene

[jaskierswolf]

The Grass is Greener pt.2/3

CW: Still shitty parents being shitty.

Previous

Jaskier was pacing around the living room. If the carpet was any good he probably would have been wearing a hole in it, as it was the carpet was coarse and worn down already. He was practicing his guitar fingering on his thighs, a nervous habit he’d picked up years ago and had never managed to shake.

Geralt, lovely, gorgeous, ever patient, Geralt was sitting on the sofa with Ciri babbling away in his arms, watching Jaskier have a little bit of a breakdown.

“What’s the time?” Jaskier asked for the thousandth time.

“Approximately three minutes after the last time you asked.” Geralt chuckled and bounced Ciri on his knee.

Jaskier turned to glare at his new pretend boyfriend, and maybe hopefully future real boyfriend. Well, he meant to glare. What actually happened was that he got lost in Geralt’s stunning amber eyes that were looking at him with such affection and amusement…

It was going to be hard to forget that they weren’t actually dating if Geralt kept looking at him like that, but Jaskier reminded himself that Geralt was just getting into character already. Jaskier supposed he should do the same.

“How long have we got?” He asked.

“She’s due at four?”

Jaskier nodded and chewed on his lip.

“About twenty minutes.” Geralt grunted. “Sit down, Jaskier.”

Geralt’s voice left no room for argument so he did. He plopped himself down cross-legged on the carpet where he was standing.

Geralt raised an eyebrow at him. “On the sofa.”

Jaskier blushed. “Right, yes. Of course.” He scrambled up to join Geralt on the sofa, keeping a safe distance away from him.

He didn’t want to assume anything just because they were fake dating.

Geralt hummed. “I don’t bite.”

“Pity.” Jaskier heard himself saying before he could stop himself. “I didn’t mean that!” He buried his head in his hands.

Geralt just laughed. “I don’t bite unless you ask nicely.”

Jaskier wanted to die.

He was pretty sure this was how he was going to die.

He groaned and hide behind a pillow. “Geralt!”

“What? You’re my boyfriend. I’m allowed to say things like that.”

Jaskier’s heart felt like it was going to explode. “Geralt!” He whined.

“You started it.” Geralt reminded him.

“Yeah well, I didn’t mean to.” He snapped. “Oh god, how are we going to convince my mother this is real?”

Geralt hummed. “Hold Ciri?”

“What?” Jaskier stared at his new friend, and yes they were using friend now. Only a friend would agree to this nonsense.

“When your mother arrives.” Geralt added. “And you’ll probably have to kiss me.”

Jaskier’s brain drifted as he pictured that. He had imagined kissing Geralt far too often and now the man was sitting in his house, on his sofa, and talking so frankly about them kissing as if it were the normal thing to do. God he wished it were their normal.

“We should practise!” He blurted out.

Geralt scoffed. “Practise?”

“Yes! It makes sense!” He grinned at Geralt and waved his hands at Ciri. “Go put her in her cot or something.”

“Shouldn’t we work on a backstory?” Geralt asked not moving.

“We’ve been dating for six months. You asked me out when you gave me a lift to work that time and we went to an open mic night for our first date. At the end of the night you kissed me and I’ve been in love with you ever since.” Jaskier explained hurriedly. “Now kiss me!”

Geralt still didn’t move. He stared at Jaskier with narrow eyes, his gaze so intense that Jaskier felt like all the air was being sucked out of the room. He licked his lips and tilted his head at Geralt. “What?”

“You’ve thought about it.” Geralt stated.

Fuck.

He supposed he had come up with that rather quickly. Luckily he was used to making up shit for his songs and poems.

“Geralt,” He sighed and patted the mechanic on the shoulder that Ciri wasn’t resting on. “I’m an artist! Stories are my trade, I simply just muddled the truth around. Easy as pie!”

Geralt hummed and stood up.

Jaskier leaned to watch Geralt as he moved over to Ciri’s cot, Jaskier’s mouth suddenly felt dry and he was fairly certain he was about to have a heart attack. “Geralt? Where are you going?”

Geralt didn’t answer. Instead he gently put Ciri down in the travel cot that he’d brought over. She squealed a little as he attached the rattle toys on the bar across her lap but settled down quickly.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked again, more quietly this time as Geralt stalked back across the room, never taking his eyes away from Jaskier.

Jaskier’s heart was racing, he was almost sure that Geralt must be able to hear it. He could feel it in his chest, right down to the tips of his fingers. His tongue flicked out between his lips in anticipation and he smirked when he noticed Geralt’s gaze drop down to his lips. God, this was actually going to happen. Geralt was going to kiss him. He shuffled forward so he was on the edge of his seat. His breath caught in his throat as he felt the air crackle between them and Geralt leant down to kiss him.

Jaskier kissed back with as much passion as he could muster. This may just be the only chance he would have to kiss Geralt and he was not going to waste a single second. He gripped onto Geralt’s t-shirt, hoping to prolong the moment for as long as he possibly could.The kiss deepened, Jaskier parting his lips instinctively to let Geralt’s tongue explore his mouth. Geralt tasted like sweet coffee and there was a small part of Jaskier’s mind that panicked. Should he have brushed his teeth first? or had a mint, that was what people did he films right?

But Geralt’s hands were in his hair and all doubts left him. Their noses bumped slightly as Geralt moved closer to him. Jaskier couldn’t help the moan that escape his lips. Geralt pulled away with one last bite to Jaskier’s lower lip that made him feel weak at the knees.

“Practice enough for you?” Geralt smirked as he brushed his thumb along Jaskier’s cheek.

Jaskier was breathless, not to mention speechless. He nodded, blinking up at Geralt and wondering what the fuck had happened to his life?

This was probably all some ridiculously realistic dream, right?

Geralt rolled his eyes and went back over to pick Ciri up.

Jaskier shamelessly let his gaze drop to watch Geralt’s arse as he walked away, like the man had said they were boyfriends now, he was allowed to do that.

He swallowed as the power of speech came flying back to him. “Well, I think that went rather well, don’t you think?” He raised an eyebrow at Geralt and flashed what he hoped was his most charming smile. Geralt hummed, which Jaskier took for agreement. “At least we don’t have to worry about chemistry.” He mused.

Geralt didn’t reply. He just handed Ciri to Jaskier. Jaskier squeaked but took the baby in his arms. She was still babbling away and reached out to Geralt with tiny little hands. Jaskier peered down at the tiny human and chewed his lip. God, she was so fragile, so tiny. She watched the world around her with an intelligence in her eyes that surprised him. He’d not spent much time around children before, he’d just assumed babies were just, well, a bit useless? And it had been a few weeks since he’d seen Ciri, she hadn’t been nearly as alert before.

She had more personality now. She clearly loved her father and she was not best pleased to be dumped in Jaskier’s arms and started to whine, not quite a cry but definitely not happy baby noises. Jaskier cooed at her and caught her little fingers in his hands. She gripped onto his finger and stared up at him with the most adorable pout.

“She’s amazing.” He whispered as he stared back.

Geralt hummed. He was watching them both with a peculiar expression.

“Yeah.” He grunted.

Jaskier laughed. How was it that the man could go from unbearably charming one moment to completely ineloquent the next? And why did Jaskier find it so endearing?

He opened his mouth to say something but he was cut off by the door bell ringing.

“Oh shit!”

He ran to the door, balancing Ciri awkwardly in his arms. “Geralt can you make sure there’s wine in the fridge?” He called back as he reached the door.

“What kind?”

“Any!” He groaned and then plastered a faker-than-his-boyfriend smile on his face. “Mother!” He greeted the woman the door.

She scowled at him, then at baby Ciri, which was just rude, and swept into the house like the hurricane that she was. “Julian, why are you holding a baby? Babysitting, I assume. I always knew that you weren’t cut out to be a musician.”

“Mother!” He pouted. “This is Ciri. I’m not babysitting, actually there’s something I wanted to tell you.”

“Oh Julian, you didn’t get a poor girl pregnant? I assume you asked her to marry you. Where is she?” She asked sharply and Jaskier was approximately ten seconds away from matricide when Geralt came out of the kitchen.

His long hair was still tied up in a bun, but now he had a tea towel draped over his shoulder and he looked suspiciously like he’d been doing washing up… but Jaskier was certain he’d finished all of that before they’d started on the garden. Still it all felt so domestic all of a sudden, like Geralt was meant to be in his house, in his life, doing the washing up to help clear up before meeting his mother.

He smiled soppily at his not boyfriend and then turned back to his mother feeling a lot more chipper than he had before.

He really just needed to focus on not getting his heart broken. He was pretty certain that it was already too late for that.

God, Geralt was just so handsome and now he was kind as well. It was quite frankly, not fair!

“Mrs Pankratz?” Geralt asked with a half smile.

Wait. Since when did Geralt know his surname? When had he told him that? God it must have been when they moved into the house over a year ago!

His mother looked stunned and nodded. “And you are?”

“Geralt Rivia. Jaskier’s boyfriend.” Geralt reached out to shake her hand.

Ciri squealed in Jaskier’s arm. “Oh hey now, buttercup. It’s just my mother.” He cooed. “Did you want to go back to your dad?”

Ciri cried again and gripped onto his shirt.

“Alrighty, not just yet then.” He laughed and grinned up at Geralt.

Geralt walked over, gently stroked the fine blonde hair on Ciri’s hair and then kissed Jaskier’s cheek. His heart flipped in his chest and he leant into Geralt’s side. “Geralt.” He whined with a pout and buried his face against Geralt’s shoulder. “Not in front of my mother.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow at him.

“You don’t have a boyfriend.” His mother peered at him with sharp blue eyes that were so similar to his yet full of ice and steel.

Geralt growled. “Clearly, he does.”

“Julian would never keep it from me.” His mother’s voice had risen to a shrill squeak and Ciri began to cry.

Jaskier panicked and began to sing, rocking the girl in his arms. Ciri’s cries settled into more of a distressed whine but it was a start.

“And yet, here I am.” Geralt stared down at his mother with a fierce expression. “I wondered why he didn’t want me to meet you. It’s starting to become clear.”

“Ah Geralt, let’s not cause a fuss.” Jaskier hummed. “Dinner! I was thinking we could order in. I know you’ve never really liked my cooking, Mother.”

“Of course, you wouldn’t make an effort for your mother.” She spat back and stalked out the room, probably to go and inspect the rest of the house.

Geralt stared at the door after her with a thunderous expression. “What the fuck, Jaskier?”

“Geralt Rivia. Meet my mother!” He announced with a wave of one arm, he was getting the hang of this carrying a baby lark.

“She shouldn’t talk to you like that.” Geralt growled.

Jaskier nodded with a sigh, bouncing Ciri in his arms and she started to giggle again. “She’s my mother.”

Geralt scowled. “You were going to do this alone?”

Jaskier nodded. “I didn’t think I had a choice, but I’m glad you’re here. You didn’t have to do this, any of this. We barely know each other.”

Geralt’s scowl was now ever-present. “I wanted to. You’re… a good neighbour.”

Jaskier sighed.

A good neighbour. Not even a friend.

He’d promised Geralt he wouldn’t fall in love with him, which he guessed he wasn’t technically breaking seeing as he’d sort of maybe been in love with him for months already.

“Come on then.” He took Geralt’s hand as if they were the partners that they were pretending to be. “Let’s go charm my mother.”

Geralt grunted, clearly not convinced. Jaskier just laughed.

“This was your idea, Geralt. No backsies!”

“Fuck.”

_____

Next

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #jaskier pankratz #jaskier #fake dating #geralt/jaskier #jaskier x geralt #the grass is greener #wolfie's witcher writing #I tried to tag people that asked for part 2 #but i wasn't able to tag everyone

[mrsalwayswrite]

Letters From War (Ron Speirs x reader)

Here is Part 3 of my Eye Candy series! Yes, Eye Candy was supposed to be a one-shot but I’m having too much fun with their dynamics. 

And because sometimes you just need some soft!Speirs in your life. 

Warnings: Speirs being a secret softy and some jealousy, a couple swear words

Words: 3500

Eye Candy series masterlist

Tag List: @happyveday @evelynshelby @sydney-m and @softspeirs​ (because I mentioned this earlier to you)

Sunlight filtered through the lacy curtains, casting the hotel room in a soft glow. A subtle ticking of the clock was the loudest sound in the room. Laying there in the silky sheets felt divine. No one was screaming orders outside of the barracks as they ran their platoon. One of my fellow nurses was not shuffling around inside trying to be quiet but failing as they slammed their stuff on a cot or on the hard floor. No, it was blissfully quiet. Something I had not realized how much I missed until I started my training at Camp Toccoa and was constantly surrounded by others. 

 I rolled over onto my side, eyes bleary from having just woken up. Peeking at the clock on the far wall, I could see the little hand pointing at the eleven. Not what I was hoping to see. My weekend pass meant I did not have to be back to base until this evening but if I did not get up now, I might go AWOL just to lounge around in these sheets with the sunlight warming me. 

 I groaned quietly as I sat up, the soft sheets sliding down my naked body. There was a freeing feeling with sleeping naked. Not that I did it often. Or ever. But the few times I had...I could see the appeal of it being a regular occurrence. Especially with these sheets. Were they made from cherub’s wings? Nothing could be as soft and silky as these sheets. I promised myself after the war, if I made it, I would buy myself a set. Something to look forward to.  

 As quietly as I could, I slid my legs over the side of the bed, ready to stand up when a deep, gravelly voice stilled my movements. 

 "Where you think you're goin'?" 

 I smiled at how perturbed he sounded. Glancing over my shoulder, he still lay on his stomach, arms tucked under his pillow, face buried in it. It was amazing he did not accidentally suffocate himself. "Ron, it's eleven already."

 He grumbled, words muffled by the pillow. "So?"

 "We need to get up soon."

 "You said that two hours ago when we woke up."

 "And yet, we're still in bed."

 "Mmm…" He tipped his head to the side so one of his half-lidded eyes could glare at me. "I don't see the problem."

 "Well some of us can't be lazy like...Ahhh!!" I squealed when an arm snaked around my waist and pulled me back, moving far too fast for someone who just supposedly woke up. Abruptly, I found myself with my head back on the pillow and a broody Lieutenant hovering over me. His bare chest was only inches above mine; and although I could not see it, I could feel that he had not put his Army issued skivvy back on. Just that realization alone bloomed a warmth in my belly. 

 "You were saying?" He said with a smug look. 

 "We need to get up."

 "Mmm…" He slowly inched his head down, meeting my eyes until his lips trailed down my neck, leaving butterfly kisses. 

 Without a conscious thought, I tilted my neck to the side, giving him better access. My arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, loving being under his touch. A small part of my brain berated me for not getting up while I still could. There were things I had planned on doing with my day. But an open mouth kiss on my collarbone caused a moan to fall from my lips and all thoughts of escaping his hold to fly away. 

 "You were saying?" He repeated. 

 Through the slowly growing, lust-fuel haze in my mind, I tried to remember why it was so important to leave the bed. "Was I?"

 He chuckled, the feeling of it reverberating in my chest. With a quick peck to my lips, he laid his head on my chest, half his body weight on me and an arm wrapped around my waist possessively. I started carding my fingers through his hair, humming softly as we lay there together. The sheets were rumpled around his waist, the only thing keeping me warm was his body. A peacefulness descended. Something very rare in preparation for war. It only encouraged neither one of us to leave the bed, else that peace vanish and reality sink back in.  We laid there silently for some time, the only sounds being our breathing and the ticking of the clock.

 My thoughts swirled in my mind about the coming weeks. So many unknowns lay before us, like a minefield that we had to walk through. We just had to keep moving forward.

 "We leave on the train tomorrow." I stated, staring up at the ceiling. My fingers continued carding through his hair. I would never tell a soul but I knew the feeling immediately relaxed him. Whenever I started doing it, he would practically go limp on me and lay there like a cat sunbathing. 

 "Mmm."

 "Do you know where we are going?"

 "Yes."

 I swatted him lightly on the shoulder. Of course, he knew. He had the uncanny ability to always be where information was being shared, even if it was not directly relevant to him. It would not surprise me if he snuck into the intelligence officers' offices at night and peeked through their papers. Though I would never tell him that. Plausible deniability is a glorious thing. 

 When he refused to answer, I swatted him again. Immediately, he growled and nipped at the valley between my breasts, making me squeak. Before I could incite or escape his further wrath, he settled himself back on top of me. When I made no further move, he roughly grabbed my hand and placed it back on the top of his head. I smirked up at the ceiling, and followed his silent order. Perhaps in a past life he had been a cat. It would explain some of the moodiness. 

 "Tell me." My fingers slipped through his hair, occasionally scraping his scalp, making him hum. "Please."

 "I overheard Nixon talking to Sink." He tilted his head to look at me, those dark, piercing eyes meeting mine. "New York."

 I connected the dots in my head. "Europe?"

 He made no reply as he continued to stare at me, rubbing his thumb along my ribs.

 "Can I write to you?"

 I felt him stiffen slightly. We had never defined what was between us. Obviously there was attraction and passion, the bruises on my hips and the half-moon indents on his back attested to that. Yet there was also a peaceful companionship I think neither of us expected. He would listen to me ramble about things we learned in class and different techniques to use in the field or the silly things my friends and I had done. On the rare occasion he would vent about one of his men and their stupidity. But I knew he was trying not to make attachments. There was a solid steel wall around his heart he had raised as soon as he stepped foot in Camp Toccoa. He knew his superiors would die. His men would die. He could possibly die. It would be easier to not know their hopes and dreams, their stories and fears. There was one thing we both knew but never acknowledged. 

 Somehow, I was the exception to his rule.

 As we laid there, I tried not to let his silence bother me. I knew it was a long shot to even ask him. I would not be entirely surprised if he said no. We were not even sure that our paths would cross again. I was to be stationed as a nurse for the paratroopers but it had not been finalized for which battalion. 

 Finally he spoke, looking just over my head the whole time he had been thinking. "Let me think about it."

 "Um, ok… well if I meet some other fella who sweeps me off my feet and writes…"

 He leaned up and kissed me soundly, interrupting my potential future plan. 

 "You can't just kiss me to keep me from talking. That's rude." I huffed when he finally allowed me to breathe again. 

 "No." He stated flatly.

 "No? You don't want me writing to someone else, no? I've already had a few soldiers ask if they could write to me."

 "No."

 "Ron, that's not how this works. If you don't want me writing to you, that tells me you're done with me. I don't do one-night stands."

 He quirked an eyebrow, stupid smirk on those kissable lips. 

 I blushed, swatting him again. "You know what I mean." This was not our first rendezvous together where we snuck away from others while on a weekend pass. 

 He sighed, dropping his head back on my chest. "And if something happens to me."

 "Then I'll mourn but I'll keep doing my job. Who knows? I might even miss you."

 He chuckled then lay quietly. I thought he had fallen asleep until he spoke up, so softly I almost did not catch it. "No one was supposed to miss me."

 "Mmm," I hummed, tracing the muscles on his back with my finger. In a spur of the moment decision, I decided to be honest, my whisper hanging in the air above us. "Too late...I don't think I can help it now."

 We lay there contently for a time, just basking in our own thoughts, the warmth of the morning sun and each other's body. 

 "Ron, we really need to get up…. stop ignoring me."

 He grumbled then suddenly rolled fully on top of me, pressing open-mouth kisses on my neck and chest. "One more."

 "How do you have the energy for one more? Christ! Is it possible to die from so many orgasms?"

 He froze, slowly his eyes met mine. I knew that look.  

 "No...no, Ron, NO! That wasn't a challenge...please, oh, shit!" 

 As I tried to wiggle away from him, he pinned my hips down with his arm and with that dark, seductive look which sent my heart racing, he lowered his face to where I could feel myself throbbing for him. 

 Needless to say, we did not leave that bed until the afternoon. 

 *****

 The train car rattled along the track, the forests and open fields of the East Coast passed by in a blur. Honestly, at this point I had no idea what state we were even in. Somewhere on our way to New York. Then troopship. Then England. 

 Soon war. 

 It was a weird feeling. We had been training and preparing for it. Gathering all the knowledge we could and practicing saving lives until our backs cramped from being bent over pretend bodies and our fingers almost bled from the constant chafing of bandages, syringes and textbooks against them. Yet now on the cusp of war, I felt wholly unprepared. 

 Pushing the thought away, I rubbed my tired eyes. I picked up my pencil, continuing to try and write a letter to my folks back home before one of the girls found me. I had been sitting in a train car with Lucy, Mary and Rebecca. After a while of listening to them gossip and talk amongst themselves and with the other nurses nearby, I decided to step away. I claimed I needed the quiet to write my letter. Truthfully, I just needed some quiet. I loved those ladies but Christ could they be LOUD. 

 Staring at the paper in my lap, words seemed to fail. How do I tell my family about everything I was preparing for? All my fears? All my hopes? All my worries? Do I lie and pretend everything is alright? 

 "Keep it simple." I muttered. With a sharp inhale, my pencil met the paper. 

 Dear Dad and Mom, 

 I hope everyone is doing well. I miss everyone. Sometimes I find myself thinking about home and wonder how soon it'll be till I see it. And you guys, of course. 

My friends are doing well. Mary has been showing off a picture of her newest nephew to all the nurses. I don’t know how I would have survived all this training without them. They help keep my spirits up during this time. And do not worry, dad, no one has proposed yet. Well, this week at least. There will be no ring on my finger until the war is over. 

Just last week we were learning about different types--

 "This spot taken?" A rough, rasping voice asked, disturbing my concentration. 

 I looked up to see a paratrooper standing at the end of my bench seat. I was surprised but wondered if maybe he just needed a space away from his buddies. Most of the other benches and seats were filled up with paratroopers in this train car, a good amount of them sleeping, writing their own letters or gambling. The few voices eased into the background as I sat there, making me momentarily forget I was not actually alone. 

 "No, it's open." I slid further down, closer to the window. Across from me was a different paratrooper I thought I recognized from Fox Company. He had been in a deep sleep even before I sat across from him, if the small puddle of drool and soft snores said anything. 

 "Thank you, ma'am. It's damn near impossible to find a quiet spot on this train." He dropped down onto the bench, removing his garrison cap. 

 I hummed, returning my eyes to the letter. Maybe I should not mention the proposals, even if they were all in jest. Though thinking about them brought up images of a pair of intense, dark eyes and strong hands that had come to know my body almost as well as I did. A blush warmed my cheeks at the thought. 

 It had been several weeks since we first began seeing each other. In public, we continued in our separate roles. Ron was not one for public affection, even if he always glared a hole in the head of any man he caught talking with me. I had heard through the rumor mill that word spread- I was Speirs' girl, even if no one ever saw us interact in that way. If Speirs purposefully started the rumor or my friends did after seeing the hickeys he left on my neck the first time... either way, the flirting and catcalls involving me dropped to a minimum. 

 In private, when we could sneak away or secretly meet up...he had no problem showering physical affection on me until I was seeing stars and melted into a puddle in his arms. 

 I wondered where he was on the train. Before I got on, I caught a glimpse of him directing some of his men on the platform. There were so many unknowns for us. My own feelings for him had grown like weeds since he kissed me. Part of me knew it was trouble. We were heading into war where nothing was certain. Yet the other part of me craved him. He was like no man I had ever known before. With one glimpse of him, my heart practically beat out of my chest. In his arms was quickly becoming my favorite place to be. I loved how there was never a need to fill the silence while with him. 

 Was this love?

 I shot that thought down before it could plant anywhere. Last time I talked to Ron, he never confirmed if I could even write to him. I knew being with me was not easy for him. Although he never explicitly said it, I wondered if he thought he was going to die during the war. 

 That rasping voice interrupted me once again. "I'm John Billings, Private first class, Baker Company."

 "Nurse Y/L/N." I nodded, glancing at him. Short, cropped blond hair, vibrant blue eyes, dimple on one cheek and broad shoulders. If he was inclined, he looked like he could bench-press me. He was attractive...but I was not interested. 

 "Ah, come on, you not gonna tell me your first name?"

 I shrugged, still keeping my gaze on my letter, hoping he would take the hint. 

 Apparently not. 

 "Any guesses on where we're heading? One of my buddies thinks Africa. I think we're headed to Italy or something like that. Either way, Nazis are gonna regret starting this thing when we come in and fucking finish it." He laughed. When I did not respond, he slid a little closer, legs spread wide like he owned the bench seat. "Where you from? You sound kinda like my ma."

 "I don't think that's your business."

 "Hey, doll, no reason to get upset. I'm just making small talk."

 "Well, I'm trying to write a letter."

 "Alright, I get it. I'll leave ya alone." He laid his arms on the back of the bench, on either side of him, staring towards the front of the train car. His hand lay right behind my shoulders, almost touching them. 

 I rolled my eyes. 

 Several more minutes went by and finally I finished my letter. Well, at least I could not think of anything else to write home about. I folded it up, stashing it and my pencil back into my satchel to mail once we reached New York. My last letter written in America. That thought scared me more than I cared to admit. 

 "Letter to a sweetheart?"

 "No," I replied. "Letter home."

 He nodded. "I need to do that myself or my ma will find me no matter where we are and spank me with her wooden spoon."

 I could not help the giggle that bubble up at the image evoked. "That sounds like my grandmother. I swear even the devil is terrified of her."

 He laughed loudly, throwing his head back, eyes crinkling. 

 We both stilled when our sleeping companion shifted in his seat, running a hand over his face. Just as soon as he began moving, he stopped once again, snores filling the air. 

 I looked back out the window, watching the countryside pass. How soon would it be before I saw America again after I left? Would I ever? How much longer could this war drag on for? How different would I be when I returned home? Would my family even recognize me?

 "So, you gonna tell me your name yet, beautiful?" My other companion teased, sliding slightly closer. 

 Before I could open my mouth, a deep, husky voice spoke, sending shivers down my spine. "That's Nurse to you, Private."

 I looked over to see Ron standing in the walkway, arms crossed. His signature glare aimed at the paratrooper next to me. Death in his eyes. 

 My companion froze under the intense look, like prey just waiting for the predator's jaws to rip them apart. "Yes...ah, yes, sir."

 "I suggest you find yourself another seat."

 The Private scrambled out of his seat without a backward glance at me, mumbling something at Ron before briskly walking away and finding a seat further up the train car. 

 "Awww…. I think you scared him away."

 Ron stared at me for a moment before glancing around and settling into the seat just vacated. "Why aren't you with the other nurses?"

 "Just needed some quiet for a minute so I could write a letter home."

 He raised an eyebrow. That man could carry entire conversations with just his facial expressions. 

 "The Private came after I was already sitting." I explained, knowing that was what he wanted to know.

 He seemed to think it over before taking my hand in his. Something he had never done in public before. A small smirk teased his lips as he entwined our fingers. "Did you write home about me?"

 "No. Should I have?"

 He sat there quietly, rubbing his thumb on the back of my hand. 

 "I thought about it." I admitted, looking at our hands. Though I could feel the heavy weight of his gaze on my face, I did not meet it. "But… I did not want… they would think then…"

 "I want you to write me."

 My head shot up, eyes wide and lips parted. "Really? Are you sure?"

 He mock-glared at me.

 "Will you write me back?"

 To my endless surprise, he leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to my lips, leaving me speechless. "I'll think about it." He winked before getting up and smoothing back out his impeccable Class A uniform. "I'll find you when we arrive."

 "Ok." I answered meekly, my brain trying to understand what just happened. 

 With one more longing look, he nodded and started back down the train car, disappearing just as quickly as he appeared. 

 He wanted me to write him...and he would write back! 

 And he kissed me. 

 In public! 

 To anyone else it may seem insignificant but for me...this was monumental. He was claiming me as his girl. Not just rumors anymore. It was ridiculous how my heart swelled at the thought. 

 A softly spoken "damn" made my head whip round to see the Private who had been sleeping now staring at me with eyes as big as saucers and mouth hanging open slightly. 

 "Damn." I echoed back, touching my lips, still in shock. 

 I was such a goner for him. Though, I could not find it anywhere in myself to be upset about that. 

#band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #ronald speirs #ron speirs #ron speirs x reader #ronald speirs x reader #fluff #soft!speirs