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nomoreusername · 2 months

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A Few More Seconds (Part 2)

Pairing:Aris x female reader

Summary:When mistakes are cleared up confession are made.

Requested by @just--a--random--human--being

I wish I knew what was happening with him, but he wouldn't really talk to me. While it's true that he never did seem to stay long and would sometimes trip over his words in the most adorable way, he just wouldn't say a word now. He wouldn't say hi when we passed by each other or converse with me by the gardens. He wouldn't even look at me. He used to sometimes stare at me and look away when I smiled, but he currently refused to make any sort of eye contact. The longer this went on the more I was convinced that I did something to upset him. I did everything to find out what, but whenever I was less than three feet from him he was off. If by chance I did get the opportunity to speak he nodded his head as he did before giving a one word response and an excuse to just run off.

Staring at him from across the fire, I kept hoping he would turn his head just a little bit. Still, whatever he was speaking to Harriet about must be incredible because he was talking at a thousand miles a minute, though I couldn't hear what he was saying.

As I was completely immersed in him I felt someone drape something over my shoulders. Looking over, I saw my little brother making a show of being a gentleman. He kept trying to get this girl to notice his “pure soul” but wouldn't talk to her. Not in the way I hadn't really talked to Aris. He wouldn't even find an excuse to say hi.

“You’re a little special, aren't you?”I sighed.

“She’s not even looking,”He groaned, ignoring my statement as he sat beside me.

“You have to show that you want her. The more you show off how good you could be the more it looks like you don't like her,”I pointed out.

“But it's obvious,”He complained.

“It's obvious to you. People see different things as different signs so the best thing you can do is be upfront,”I advised.

“I can't,”He mumbled, putting his hands on his knees.

“You can do whatever you put your mind to. I think you should go for it before you never can,”I recommended.

“The way you go for Aris?”

“That's different,”I defended.

“How?”

“It just is, okay? I don't have to explain myself to you.”

“Explain yourself to him.”

“See? This is exactly why I don't give you advice,”I sighed, looking over at Aris only to see that he had left. Handing his jacket back without actually looking at him, I stood up and made my way past people. Mumbling a few, “excuse me’s,” I was past everyone before they could even blink. Going to Harriet by the very edge of the group, I asked her where Aris was.

“It's probably not a good idea to tell you,”She shrugged.

“I just need a minute. It’ll be quick,”I promised.

“It's still not a good idea,”She repeated.

“Please? I really need to talk to him,”I pleaded.

She sighed as she thought it over. Still, I refused to leave until she said something, anything.

“He's by the ocean,”She finally answered.

“Thank you, Harriet. I’ll see you tomorrow,”I told her, already making my way there. Moving through the darkness, I got further from the blazing fire and closer to the chilly sea. Stepping onto the sand, when it tried to sink I threw my sandals off before looking left and right. Then, I stared at my feet to see footprints going to the right so I guess that’s where I’m going.

Speed walking, I kept switching between looking at the ground and ahead of me. All I ever got was more footsteps and more darkness. I couldn't give up though. I don't know why I chose tonight, but it was the right one. I just know it.

Walking faster, as I glanced up again to see a figure staring at the sea I knew that I was correct to trust my instincts.

“Aris?”I asked, approaching him. He turned his head but just as he met my gaze tried to leave. Before he had the chance I grabbed his sleeve.

“Aris? Did I do something?”I finally asked, not letting go. He just stared at the ground before shaking his head. “Then, why won't you talk to me?”

“I can't,”He mumbled.

“I’ve been trying to though. I want to talk to you,”I pleaded, holding on tighter.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,”He whispered.

“Please, Aris. I miss you,”I begged.

“I can't be around you. Not now.”

“Tell me what I did,”I repeated.

“You didn't do anything wrong. That's the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I can't be around you right now. Not for a while. Now until . . .”He trailed off.

“Not until what?”I asked, stepping closer.

“Not until I know how to get over you.”

“Over me? As in romantically?”I hoped.

“Yeah. Romantically,”He confirmed.

Now I didn't know what to think. He feels what I feel, but why doesn't he want to? Am I that awful? Is there something else that I’m not getting?

“Why do you need to get over me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you need to get over me?”I asked again.

“Because you're with someone, and that someone isn't me?”

“I am?”

“Yeah.”

“Who am I with?”

“That guy that always gives his hoodie.”

“People think I’m dating him?”I asked after processing his words.

“I mean not really, but I do,”He mumbled.

“I don't know whether to cry, laugh, or throw up,”I said half to him and half to myself.

“Are you not?”He asked slowly.

“No. I am not dating my brother.”

“Your brother?”

“Yeah. That's my brother,”I repeated.

“Oh,”He mumbled. “Now I feel kind of stupid,”He admitted.

“I don't think you're any kind of stupid. Maybe you're not the best at seeing signs when people like each other, but you're definitely not stupid,”I shrugged.

“I just thought since you always had his hoodie that you were, you know?”He defended.

“That's his lame attempt at trying to get the girl he likes to notice him. So far, it's not going that well,”I explained.

“So you aren't with anyone then?”

“Not unless someone wants to tell me something,”I said, grabbing his hand.

“I do,”He muttered, his face turning red as he looked at me. “I like you. I really like you, probably more than I should. I think about you more than I should too, even if you're nowhere near me. I like that you're kind, I like that you're smart, I like that you're funny, I like that you're accepting, I like that you know how to make people feel better without trying, I like how easy you are to talk to once you figure out how to get the words out, and I like the way you look in the moonlight.”

“That's really sweet, Aris. You're really sweet,”I whispered, as close to him as possible.

“I am?”

“Yes. You are,”I nodded. “That's one of the reasons that I really like you,”I admitted.

“You do?”

“I do. I have for a while now. I just never knew how to tell you, but when you stopped talking to me I knew I had to be able to. I knew I had to figure everything out before I couldn't.”

“Have you?”

I didn't answer as I put my arms around his shoulders. Standing on my toes, I pressed my lips to his cheek before pulling away.

“Yeah. I have.”

#aris jones #aris x reader #tmr aris #aris tmr #happy ending #fluff #love confessions #the maze runner #one shot #part 2/2

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rcksmith · 3 years

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Felling — Five Hargreeves

Request: “Hi love could you maybe do #38 from the fluff prompts for Five where maybe Five is struggling with accepting the reader trying to be like romantic or affectionate with him !!! Thank you I love you !!!!”

Fluff Prompts:

38. “You say you hate it but your red face is telling me otherwise.”

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here!!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

I loved this request so much! I found it so cute and adorable!! ❤️ I hope it got close to what you wanted. I love you❤️

Here I used some fragments of Five's original chronology because it would help with the plot, but guys, keep in mind, please, that he is a 20 or more.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves/Fem! Reader.

Warnings: Just bad words, it is very fluff.

— — — — — —

The Hargreeves were a family full of wounds, trauma and deep-seated fears. They were trained to be super heroes. Strong, courageous, centered, perfect. And that was why no emotion could be on the way to that goal. Feeling love, passion, affection and affection was the gateway to becoming vulnerable. And a superhero couldn't be vulnerable. So they were denied that their whole lives.

Within each one pulsed a different problem, a different trauma. Denying love to a child only made him develop complications to connect with his emotions, feel empathy and be able to deal with different contrasts in a healthy way.

The Hargreeves brothers' lives were not easy, but some of them found, in the beginning, a way to connect with different types of love; Luther and Alissom for each other, Diego for the maternal love, Klaus and Ben in the partnership and complicity for each other. Vayna found her way in love for her brothers when her biggest internal problems were resolved.

But Five... well, Five was alone in the abyss of the apocalypse.

He did not have a chance to mature his feelings, deal with his psychological and transform the various traumas into something productive and healthy. Then, in the midst of loneliness, devastation and chaos, Five just threw his feelings under the rug until, like his childhood brothers, they stopped harassing him.

As they never had the opportunity to mature, those sensations remained on a primitive level. And his complications to bond with his emotions became even more broken when Five had to kill for the Commission.

Facing death and being the author of such devastation was not a mild endeavor. The smell of death was still in the air if Five stopped to concentrate on breathing, and the murder scenes were still fresh in his mind when he slept. But, just as Five did with any feeling, he just pushed them under the rug once again.

He didn't want to deal with them. They brought, for Five, pains, fears, weaknesses and a constant reminder that, perhaps, he... had failed in many things. And Five hated seeing himself as a failure.

And that was when he came home. And even when the waters have calmed down, when the winter breeze gently touched his face, when he can rest, dealing with feelings was something he still repudiated.

But that's when Five met you, and his whole world was turned upside down. When you first looked into his eyes, fierce, warm heat swept through Five's body, from the top of his head to his toes. The heat immediately gave way to a cold sweat.

Five thought it was just a second of madness, in which his system had given a blue screen for something else, not for you. But as soon as you smiled at him, there was a quick feeling of being stabbed near the diaphragm or in the belly. His composure didn't waver an inch, but he felt like he couldn't breathe.

The situation took on unimaginable proportions. You are going the Hargreeves mansion a lot times , since, what has been said, you were friends with the brothers, and Five lived lost in an agitated sea of exasperating feelings whenever he was near you.

You were brilliant as the sun, smiling as happiness, beautiful as masterpieces and stunning as the evening. You were the personification of…Perfection, was the Five thought at the time. And it almost broke his heart, because he could never have you for himself.

Five couldn't because, as much as he refused to admit it, wouldn't know how. He couldn't because the whirlwind of emotions was a fierce scream that caused a stir in his mind. Five looked at you and saw a masterpiece - sublime and human art at the same time - and he didn't know how to name those emotions. And now, unexpectedly trapped by the intensity, Five was unable to reason properly when he was close to you.

All he could see was an excessively beautiful girl who was standing in front of him as something he wanted very much. And if you understood the state Five was in whenever you talked to him, you would have stopped at the first sentence. No, if you really understood, you would end up running as fast as you could. But you could not understand what Five did not understand.

So he preferred the loneliness of the apocalypse to those emotions that made him feel hot and cold at the same time, which seemed like his stomach was filling with birds, all beating their wings and trying to escape, and then his hands started to shake.

Five didn't know what it was all about, a mixture of emotions; attraction, passion, an overwhelming desire to touch you. But even if he knew how to name it all, he wouldn't know how to act. Five was a genius, he could solve the biggest equations about space and time with his eyes closed, but as a lover, however, he put his feet in his hands.

Five never thought of the most tender emotions without coldness and objectivity, they were great to justify the actions of human beings. But you have revoked absolutely everything.

Over time, it started to hurt physically in Five not to touch you, not to succumb to the most overwhelming wills. And then, one night he took refuge in a bottle of vodka, you walked in the door and it was the end for Five. He got up from the bar, came to you in determined and firm steps, and, sending everything to hell, held your face in his hands and kissed you as if he wanted to do this for a lifetime. Maybe more.

You were the opposite of Five. It was as if you were the heat and he was the ice, day and night. You burned like summer heat and Five burned like winter cold. You were everything Five was not: extroverted, agitated, knew how to deal with emotions very well, you were passionate, caring, loving, you loved physical contact. So when you returned the kiss, Five felt himself burning with your warm touch.

You wrapped your fingers around the black strands on the back of his neck, letting him put your bodies together and the kiss started to heat up. And then you said:

“You're beautiful.”

And that's where Five fell in love with you. He fell in love because when you took a breath and looked into his eyes when you said that, he felt like you could see the depths of his soul, all the secrets, all the sins, all the fears. You knew him, deeply.

Five was no longer able to stay away from you after this event. He always chose your side at a table, he was very less acid in conversation whit you were. And when you two played chess, and he let you win on purpose just to see your happy smile and your eyes shining, he knew was in trouble.

While Five tried to deal with so many new emotions and so many traumas, you were the opposite. You have been in love with him for so long, even when you saw his painting on top of the fireplace, you felt something different. So when you two kissed, came closer, you let your feelings out.

You were a loving person by nature, you loved hugging people, physical contact. You were an incorrigible romantic and, to be honest, you loved being like that. You loved feeling too much.

So with Five it was no different. You liked holding hands, hugs, more tender kisses and also quick hello kisses or bye. You loved touching physically, either way. But being like that taught you that many people didn't taste the same as you. And in the case of the Hargreeves, so broken and lost, dealing with feelings was not easy, especially to express it physically.

But with Five it was… more difficult.

He was very reserved, controlled, closed. You felt perfectly when he went rigid whenever you touched him: any affection on the arm, kiss on the cheek when you had to go to college, hugs.

You started to think that maybe he didn't like you that much or didn't want something serious, but Five was always looking for you. Whether showing up at your apartment, in your room, or going to be near you at the mansion or kissing you. So you ended up realizing that he just didn't handle feelings well.

It was very cold that night, you were in your room with the books and college notebooks on the bed, trying to solve some calculus equations, otherwise you would end up repeating in that subject. Your head was already pounding and you were getting frustrated, it was definitely not for you and your desire was to hit your head on the book and give up.

“What a nightmare.” You mumbled.

“What a nightmare?”

The voice at your side made you scream out in fright, turning to the left and seeing Five standing on the edge of your bed. The distilled moonlight came in through your open window and bathed the man in front of him with a builder in his black hair and alabaster skin, you held your breath, Five was always so beautiful that he should be considered a crime.

His hands were in the pockets of his dark pants, followed by the shirt and blazer from the Academy uniform. Five looked at you with a small condescending smile in the corner of your mouth, and you felt your heart pounding.

“Ah, it's just a college subject.” You sighed, looking at the notebooks in front of you “It's a nightmare.”

Then Five leaned forward, looking closely at your notes.

“You know where you went wrong, don't you?”

You jaw dropped, and you turned to the notebooks with your calculations. That was the only exercise that you thought was correct.

You felt frustration rising from your feet to your head, snaking through your body. You snorted, running your hand through your hair, it had been hours since you tried to understand that misfortune.

“I will never graduate, that's it. I accept the defeat of the God of mathematics.” You grunted, leaving the pencil on top of the books, giving up.

Five laughed softly, sitting beside your bed, still far enough away not to touch you.

“Give me the pencil.” He pointed to the object and you handed it over.

You frowned when Five pulled your notes to him, balanced the pencil in your other hand and redo your calculations at the end of the sheet.

You should have paid attention to what Five was doing, at each step, but the truth was that you got lost looking at him. The winter breeze shook his black strands as if they were a cloth from the night sky, his emerald green eyes were focused, and a slight crease on his forehead indicated that he was concentrating.

Your heart raced, the world seemed to stop breathing and the air took on a caustic and magical intonation. You would show all your shadows if Five showed his, you would do anything to show how sublime he was.

Then Five looked up at you, and the hemisphere seemed to make sense that second. So you leaned over and kissed him. You kissed because there was no cell in you that didn't want to kiss him. Because Five was a young god and you were just a mortal surrendered to his charms.

But you felt his muscles go rigid, the spontaneous physical contact catching him off guard.

Five burned in contradictions. It burned in the hot fire of passion and burned in the icy heat of feelings. Your touch was potent and had an overwhelming effect on Five.

He wondered what would happen if he had sex with you at that moment. Would he burn in your heat or would he be consumed by troubled emotions? Would he feel every part of your body pulse or would he lose himself in the confusion of his own mind?

Five gently parted his lips, still close enough for his breath to hit your lips.

“I feel your tension. Everything is fine.” You commented quietly.

Five just breathed, his eyes confirming to you what his words didn't say.

“I'm sorry for everything you've been through.” You were sincere, and cautiously put your hand under his. “But you have to understand that it’s normal and good to feel emotions. It's okay not to understand them. Feelings are not like math.”

Five felt your touch become more present, and you gently approach. He should have said something, but his body started to contradict his mind and he got lost in a blue shambles. He desperately wanted you. Wanted to fuck you until feel you completely and kiss you until taste love. But he also wanted to get away. He wanted to go away and push all those feelings and emotions under the rug.

But when you sat closer to him, and your hands cupped his face, Five realized he couldn't leave.

“How would you react if I did that..”

Then he noticed your mischievous smile, and before he could say anything, you held him more firmly, and filled any part of his face with kisses that you could reach.

You laughed between Five's kisses and protests. But you only stopped after the twentieth kiss. Five was marked with your lipstick, his eyes closed for you, his face in a warning expression.

“Y/N!” He grunted, wiping his face “Are you crazy?”

But his cheeks were red and you could feel his temperature high from where you were.

You laughed louder, settling on the bed.

“.You say you hate it but your red face is telling me otherwise.” You pointed at his cheeks, waved your index finger between them, signaling.

Five frowned even more, trying to wipe the lipstick marks off his face. But slowly, a little smile was struggling to come to his face.

“You are smiling!”

“You are so childish!” he rolled his eyes, but his voice was soft.

“You love Me!” Then you threw yourself at him again, kissing his face where the marks had been cleaned.

Five grunted, but ended up just resting his hands on your waist, feeling ... relaxing.

When you stopped laughing and looked at him, Five held his gaze. Gently, his right hand went to your face, removing a lock of your hair from your eyes.

“I think you're right.”

His voice was low, like a summer breeze, and yours eyes lit up when you understood the meaning of what he was talking about. But Five didn't give you time to answer, he leaned over and captured your lips in a passionate kiss.

You love him too.

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astro-rain · 3 years

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delicate; b.barnes

chapter one - “to wakanda”

delicate masterlist

word count: 1.5k

synopsis: reader works for what used to be shield as a highly skilled neuropsychologist. after the events in vienna involving the sokovia accords and a bombing, she gets an interesting request from friend and coworker sharon carter...a request involving none other than steve rogers and james barnes.

warnings: brief and indirect mentions of abuse/trauma

pairings: bucky x fem!reader

"I don't know Sharon. Are you sure I'm really the right person for this? I'm not, like, an Avengers level tech. Are you sure they don't want a genius or someone like Stark to do it?"

"Well, Stark is pretty busy right now, and honestly, no one knows psych like you. Not who I've met anyway."

"That is so not true. I'm willing to bet there's tons of other people you guys got somewhere who are ten times what I am."

"Agent (Y/L/N), in case you missed it, SHIELD isn't what it used to be. Sure we have old agents who aren't formally 'SHIELD agents,' anymore, but we don't have the expendability we used to. You're our best bet at the moment."

"Damn. I'm your best bet. I'm sorry," she almost chuckled, but then she thought for a brief moment. "Are you sure this is completely necessary? I mean, I saw the photo on the news. The quality's poor at best, and..."

She leaned in, discretely, and whispered.

"...not to seem like a conspiracy theorist commie or anything, but it kinda seems like people are jumping to conclusions here. Are we even sure it was Barnes who set off the bomb?"

Sharon looked around them, cautiously. No one seemed to be listening, but she scanned the room like her life as she knew it was hanging in the balance. She weighed her words in her head, making sure she picked the right ones, then formulated a response appropriate.

"Regardless of if it was him or not, Barnes still escaped. and before that, Ste-we'd been looking for him for almost two years. This analysis is necessary," Sharon brought her voice down even lower. "At least that's what I keep being told. Of course I'd like there to be more solid proof, but I'm not in charge here. He's gone, and they want to be able to find him and 'sort things out.'"

"'Sort things out,'" (Y/N) repeated, questioning the genuineness of whomever told Sharon that. "Unless they have hard evidence that it was him who set off the bomb in Vienna, shouldn't they leave that to uh...Captain America?"

She wondered how Barnes was able to escape in the first place. She saw the containment module he was in; there's no way he could've gotten out without a fight. ...But maybe it wasn't a fight. Perhaps it was a trigger word induced rage. (Y/N) understood a basic layout of the "Winter Soldier." SHIELD would've kept any information they had classified. However, after the fiasco in Washington, d.c. with Hydra and the whole releasing of all files predicament, she was able, with Sharon's help, to put together a simple outline. With that being said, he couldn't have broken out without going Winter Soldier mode. But doesn't someone need the trigger words for that?

“That's what a reasonable person would think, but once again, I'm not in charge," Sharon shrugged. "Things would probably be going a lot smoother if I was, but you can't have everything."

(Y/N) cracked a smile. Sharon was a friend, and a good one too. They'd known each other since before SHIELD was shattered in 2014. In fact, Sharon helped train her.

The only thing was: Sharon was a higher ranking agent and often withheld certain information from (Y/N). It frustrated her. This was where their personal boundaries got in the way of their professional ones.

She could tell there was something Sharon wasn't telling her, but she wasn't about to compromise either of their positions by pushing for information she wasn't supposed to know. Hell, maybe even Sharon knows something she isn't supposed to. Or maybe she knows something that Everett Ross wouldn't like. What if she was keeping something from him? Defying him? What if she was working with Steve Rogers? Now that would be interesting.

(Y/N) was used to secrets around her all the time. She knew Sharon had her fair share, and trying to figure them out wouldn't really get her anywhere.

"Right. Okay. Well, I'll get on this then. Thanks, Agent Carter," she teased in late response to Sharon's 'Agent (Y/N).’

Sharon offered a quick smile before walking off to attend to other business.

- - -

Pain. That was all it was. In every sense of the word. As she strenously made her way through the densely packed file of one James Buchanan Barnes, pain was all she could see. All she could read. It leaked out of the page and seeped into her skin like poison.

It was horrific what they did to him. She knew he had his memory wiped, had someone pull him out and stick someone else in. But it was more than just that. They took his past, his memories, his thoughts; and they ripped them from his mind, leaving an empty space to mold into their own. It was after this when Hydra, in every way they could, dehumanized him, made him less than. He was striped of his freedom, his control, his choice, his humanity, of everything that made him him. They beat and bruised and broke it out this empty human shell until he was nothing but a shadow of faded morality and consciousness.

But hell, she couldn't look away. She was glued to the aftershock of this horrible wreckage. All the years of studying Psychology and Neuroscience couldn't have possibly prepared her for the absolute horror that was his past, his abuse, his torture. It was heinous. Frankly, she questioned how he was still alive. How he still had the will and the drive to be alive. How do you live after that?

"Fuck," she breathed after eons of silence.

She seemed to lose her sense of time whilst she was immersed in the harrowing nightmare of Hydra's cruelty. 'Cruelty' doesn't even come close to doing it justice. When she came to, her desk looked like a bomb went off. Papers were bursting out of manilla folders, littering the linoleum surface with classified files and secret information. She leaned back in her chair, and gave herself a minute to debrief.

(Y/N) almost felt guilty, like she things she looked at were so vile, so violating that she didn't have the right to see them. Sure, she had read and analyzed all sorts of trauma and psychological profiles. But he was different. Something about James Barnes was different. It tangled her mind the fact that a person could endure all that. She could only imagine the effect that would have on the human brain. The possibilities are endless. Suddenly bombing the UN didn't seem so far fetched.

- - -

"Jesus Christ," (Y/N) murmured, staring at her office floor as Sharon finished explaining to her what happened at the Leipzig Halle Airport.

She sat mostly in silence as she pondered over the information just fed to her. Apparently Tony Stark gathered a 'team' to try and intercept Captain America - sorry - Steve Rogers and his (supposed) fugitive friend. It was chaos.

"What is this? Fuckin' Avengers Fight Night?" she wondered aloud. "How many people did you say were there?"

"Twelve total," Sharon clarified. "Five with Stark and five with Steve."

The psychologist shook her head, dumbfounded. "How did it end?"

"Steve and Barnes got out, but everyone else with them were captured and sent to the Raft."

"The Raft?!" (Y/N) exclaimed. "That's for, like, super humans! Not people like Sam Wilson or Clint Barton!"

"You're telling me."

Sharon seemed in agreement with everything she was saying. However, there was something she couldn't quite place. Like she was holding back. But holding back what?

"So what of Rogers and Barnes?" (Y/N) pushed.

Sharon got up and closed the office door before returning to her seat, leaning in, and lowering her voice. This secretive woman, god damn it.

"Well... That's what I came to talk to you about."

Oh boy. She didn't have a semblance of a single idea of what to expect. Apparently Sharon noticed.

"We're the only ones that know this. They're fine..." the agent trailed off, "They're in Wakanda, but they need a little help."

"Are you leaving?!" (Y/N) all but yelled before quickly slapping a hand over her mouth and uncovering it only to whisper, "Do you and Rogers have a thing or something? Cause' I don't know how else you would know all of this when I'm sure that no one else does considering he's now an enemy of several governments!"

"My relations with Steve Rogers are not the focus here." She could've sworn Sharon flushed. "But we have been in contact; I'm one of the few people he can trust right now, and I don't plan on letting him down anytime soon."

They totally have a thing.

"Noted," said (Y/N) with a nod, "but why are you telling me this? Does he want the profile analysis or something? I don't see how he would need it if he's known Barnes for however long."

"Not exactly..." Sharon fidgeted with her hands. "We need you to go to Wakanda.”

[A/N:] this is a repost of chapter 1 because my masterlist is being fucky

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clairecrive · 4 years

Text

“Small thing” - Alfie Solomons x reader

A/n: So, I failed to post this on saturday but here it is! Thanks again for requesting @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby! I changed a few things however I hope you’ll like this!

Summary: Alfie can’t help but step in when he sees that the man you were talking to was about to hit you. Then, one thing leads to another and eventually it’s your shared love for animals that’s what brings you together.

Word count: 2.2K (roughly)

TW: violence on animal, abusive behavior but fluff overall

Tag list: @mollybegger-blog, @evelynshelby, @br0ck-eddie, @of-love-and-of-the-sea, @shadow-of-wonder, @fandom--0verdose, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @sopxhiea, @fuseburner, @ashesbelle (let me know if you wanna be added or removed)

(this beautiful piece of art was made by @fortunetellingnonesense. she has other amazing art so go check her out!)

“Hey, stop! What the hell are you doing?!" Your voice resounded in the streets, its echo jumping through the buildings amplified. You weren't one to shout, nor did you get into fights easily. But if there was one thing you hated, it was bullying. Especially when those pieces of shit always picked on people half their size or age. It wasn't fair and showed how insignificant they were. However true that might be, the cuts and bruises that their kicks and fists would leave on them weren't insignificant. Especially compared to a smaller body such as the one of this little kitty that piece of shit on the other side of the road had decided to kick.

Unfortunately, it had taken the small kitten cries for you to notice what was happening. But now that you had, you couldn't turn a blind eye to it. Not even if you weren't a strong muscular person and there was no one in the streets could give you a hand. Given the hour, the street was deserted.

"This little shit has decided to pee all over my doorstep. That’ll show him." Not happy with the kick that had probably broken the kitten's ribs, the bloke spat on its trembling body and was about to keep going.

"Don't you see that it's a little kitten? They don't even know what a doorstep is." You pointed out incredulously but wasn't it obvious?

"You almost killed him", you added to show that it was totally unnecessary and simply a dick move.

"I don't fucking care. He peed on my doorstep and I taught him a lesson." His voice became even harsher as he bragged what he thought was a grand gesture. But really, he only proved your point further.

"You're a piece of shit." Simply put.

"Oi, lady, I don't know who the hell you think you are but ain't no one gonna talk to me like that." You could see that he trying to make himself look bigger and threatening but you didn’t expect anything less from him and were set on not let him win.

"If only you cared about yourself just half as much as you cared for others than I wouldn't have to point out the obvious." Dismissing him, you turned towards the poor kitten that was pathetically laying on the floor. Their breath was uneven and you could tell they were having trouble doing so.

Your words must have confused the man, who apparently wasn't accustomed to a more complex way of speaking. You hadn't apologized but he wasn't sure that you had offended him either. By your tone though, he figured out that it must have been the second. And of course, his ego was bruised.

"Right, you sl*t, it seems that you need to be taught a lesson too." Too busy cooing over the small thing, his words didn't even register. It was probably going to be too late once they did but luckily for you, a guardian angel interceded for you.

"It ain't very manly to hit a woman, mate, right." A loud husky voice spoke behind you and you looked up, cradling the kitten to your chest, ready to make a run for it if it came to it. A tall figure of a man leaning on his cane with a big hat that cast a shadow over his face was the newcomer. You had never seen this man before but one look at him was all it took to understand that you did not mess with him. If you didn't want to end up bloodied and broken, that is.

The bully was about to shoot a retort but the burly man spoke again before he could, "Just like hitting small animals. What fucking beast would do that, hm." And then he spoke no more, only stared at the guy. You found amusing how big and mighty the guy was trying to be just a moment early when it had been only you, and how scared and spineless he was being now, under the stranger's unwavering stare.

It only took a minute, maybe even less, for him to lower his head and retreat.

"That's right, no more lesson teaching for you, bastard." You snickered, mocking him. When the man in question turned to send a death stare your way, you shivered and moved behind the stranger's back, just to be sure.

"Keep on going, mate." The stranger said fully ridding you of that menace finally.

"Asshole", you muttered under your breath as the man disappeared into his house. You must have been louder than you thought because that prompted the stranger to look at you.

"What are you doing, lass, getting head to head with a guy bigger than you, eh. Got a death wish?" As you were standing close to him now, you were able to see his face clearly since he was looking down at you for the height difference. What a lovely face. A guardian angel had sent him for sure because there was no way that such a handsome and kind man would stumble into your life by coincidence.

"Look, he almost killed this kitten and was definitely going to if I hadn't stopped him." You didn’t move to put some space between you. His eyes were too mesmerizing to look anywhere but at them and the way his lips trembled before forming a small smirk, was too endearing to miss.

The stranger’s name turned out to be Alfie, but that wasn't the only thing you ended up knowing about him. He was a fellow animal lover and the human of a sweet bullmastiff. He had a trusted vet and offered to take you to him. On the way, you got to know each other. Albeit, he did all the talking, only stopping to let you answer the many questions he asked you, it wasn't annoying as it may sound. His rumbling was… comforting, in a way. It gave your mind no room to think back about what happened or worry about what could have happened if Alfie hadn't shown up. It only allowed you to lightly caress the kitten's fur and hum now and then to what he was saying.

———————————————————————————

And after months of knowing him, you could vouch that it was.

He was an interesting fellow, this Alfie. Such a scaring looking guy, all burly and dishevelled. His cane angrily stomped the ground, his boisterous voice and confident stride successful kept away any wandering eye and unwanted attention despite how difficult it was to not notice them walking down the street. Of course, since you had just met him, you couldn't know that this happened mainly because of his reputation. And you would have never guessed either because despite his rough exterior, there was an underlying tenderness in the way Alfie looked at the small thing in your arms and how quickly and unprompted he had offered to help. It was the recipe for a sweetheart, wasn't it?

"Right, I reckon we should get him some help, don't we?" Alfie couldn’t help but find you amusing and was more than willing to spend a little more of his time with you. His day had been uneventful up until now. Besides, the small thing in your arms did need help.

After the kitten was entrusted to the vet's care and eventually saved, Alfie, moved by your love for animals, had asked you to take care of his boy, Cyril. Of course, you happily took the job. Yes, the money was good and certainly helped but you mainly agreed because of him. As naive as it sounds, Alfie had made a really good impression on you that day and always had been the portrait of the perfect gentleman around you.

He would welcome you in and offer a cup of tea when you’d get to his home in the morning and another one when he'd come home in the afternoon before you'd leave. And whenever he needed to stay at the bakery until late at night, he'd phone and tell you either offering to have someone walk you home or when you'd refused to leave Cyril alone - that was your job after all- he had given you one of the spare rooms for you to crash in and get some sleep, always with the promise of a raise for the inconvenience.

You were titubant at first, yes Alfie had always been nice to you but was it enough to trust him? Eventually, you caved and stayed the night. The door of your room locked and a route for a quick escape already in mind. You'd soon find out that you wouldn't need it though. Alfie had come home a little past midnight and despite the late hour, he didn't go to bed straight away. Instead, you heard some noises coming from the living room.

Curiosity got the best of you and you ventured downstairs. You had cooked a small dinner and left some for him in the oven. Alfie however, hadn't even noticed. The concept of a cooked meal was new and far away from him, his nightly routine mainly consisted of whiskey and the papers he'd brought from the office.

Coming home to someone was also something out of the ordinary for Alfie, so when your silhouette appeared in the doorway he thought he was hallucinating. The whiskey made him a little slow but his mind still worked quickly enough that you didn't notice his moment of disorientation.

That night turned out to be an interesting one for both of you. Looking back to it, it was also a kind of turning point in your relationship. Whiskey proved to be something that made Alfie even more prone to speaking and since the night is young, you two talked a lot, and you inevitably ended up feeling closer to him.

After that night, Alfie made sure to come home a bit earlier so that you could talk a bit before you had to head home. And you ended up spending more nights at Alfie's too.

Today was one of those days when Alfie said he would come home in time for tea. So, as usual, you had got everything ready, the cookies you had just taken out of the oven were nicely arranged on a plate beside the two steaming cups of tea.

———————————————————————————

"We are restless today, aren't we? But we just came back from our afternoon walk, so what can I do for you, eh?" You were sure you sounded utterly ridiculous, using a baby voice with him but you loved doing so whenever you talked to him. And you’d swear that he could understand you.

"A-ha, these are not for you sweet boy," you tutted at Cyril when he tried to help himself to the food.

It felt like a crescendo, your relationship getting out of the acquaintances’ stage and entering something blurry that you still couldn't figure out. All you knew was that it was warm and it felt a lot like home.

"Alright, alright, I'll give you some cuddles." Yeah, maybe you were a little soft on him but how could anyone be anything but when he looked so cute laying on his back with his little paws in the air?

Exactly.

The sound of the door closing caught your attention and you got up from the ground and walked in the hallway to meet Alfie who was taking his hat off.

"Welcome back, Alfie. How was your day?" Walking to him, you helped him take his coat off. After hanging it on the coat rack, you turn back around to listen to his answer. You expected him to have moved away instead you found your faces extremely close after you had turned around.

A gasp left your lips when your noses brushed whereas Alfie appeared unaffected. His eyes flickered between yours, his moustache tickled your upper lip as he spoke, "it's about to get a lot better, it seems pet. What do ya think?" He whispered on your mouth, referring to your previous question.

The kiss was slow at first, your lips were cautious of each other, tentative and shy. Then Alfie’s hand reached the back of your head and it was like a flip had been switched. Only a brief pause to get some air, your forehead touching, before your lips reconnected. This time with far more hunger, like you had been waiting for this moment. And in fact, you had been.

"Look who's decided to join, cheeky bastard", Alfie commented, amused at his dog who was now panting on his leg. Cyril barked as if he had understood his human and you couldn't help but laugh. This dog was something else.

Your hands trailed on his shoulders up to his neck while the kiss grew more desperate and Alfie pushed you to the wall behind the coat hanger. His hands began wandering trailing down on your body and his mouth was about to follow when something humid and wet interrupted them.

Your eyes bore into his then flickered to his mouth, so close to yours, before you answered him. "I wholeheartedly agree." And that was all he needed to hear before his mouth was on yours. A shot of electricity ran through you when he did.

"I'm sorry mate, but this is a dance for two," Alfie gave him a loving pat on his head, "now where were we?" he turned back to you before connecting your mouths again.

#alfie solomons #tom hardy #tom hardy imagines #tom hardy x reader #tom hardy imagine #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons imagines #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons one shot #alfie x reader #alfie solomons fluff #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder imagine

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ethanharli · 4 years

Text

Requested: On Wattpad

Pairing(s): Shirou Ogami x Top Male Reader.

Warning(s): Fluff, slight cursing, mentions of wounds, just expect lots of fluffy shit.

A/n- I'ma be posting requests cause I have a long list of them I haven't even started yet- (mostly from my wattpad) soo be prepared for that spam :")

___________

My body ached as I walked through the door, I couldn't even hold back the small whimper that ripped through my throat as I sat on the couch, dropping my stuff right by it since I didn't have the energy to put it in Shirou and I's room. Placing my hand on my shoulder I rubbed it softly, trying not to touch the bruise to much after I had just recently got it, "[Y/n]? You home?" The sound of Shirou's voice slightly calmed my nerves as I watched him come into the living room staring at me with wide eyes. "Hey puppy" I chuckled softly, hopping that calling him the nickname I gave him all those years ago would help calm me from the sudden wrath that'll come my way.

"What the hell happened to you?" His voice came out stern but concerned nonetheless as he quickly made his way over to me, scanning my bruised eye and cut up lip, before gently tracing his thumb over the gash on my cheek. "Ah y'know how work gets, got into a fight with a group of beastman working with humans" I spoke barley above a whisper as I leaned into my lovers touch, resting my hand on his so I could nuzzle into it, feeling a sudden purr vibrate through my chest, as I let his scent wash over me and calm my wavering nerves. "You should've called me! I could've helped you!" He shot back, and I couldn't help but notice the hurt in his eyes when I flinched from the feeling of his fingertips pressing into one of my bruises.

"You know I can't do that, my job is much more dangerous then yours and I'm not gonna risk it" I couldn't stop the sigh from passing my lips, knowing this conversation would've came back up eventually. Shirou always likes to argue with me about the fact that he should be able to go out and help me on my missions, but he doesn't seem to understand he can't. Yes he may be able to help out with the police here but he can't come with me onto the main land to help sneak out any beastman willing to come back here. He's not that great when it comes to being around humans anyways. "So it's okay if you come home beat up and broken but not me?" He growled out in concern, staring down at me with his usual gaze that I simply returned with a tired grin.

"Of course not puppy" I whispered softly, hooking my finger in the belt loop of his pants to pull him closer to me. Looking up at his usually stoic face now filled with worry and hurt flooding through those beautiful pale blue eyes of his as he climbed into my lap, resting his hands on either side of my neck to slowly thread his fingers through my hair. "I promise to be more careful from now on" I couldn't help but press my forehead against his, gently brushing our noses together as we shifted into our beast forms, melting into the feeling of his fingers moving through my fur and up to my ears, petting them softly as my purr deepened from the affection, "You said that nine hundred year's ago."

"Shh we don't speak of that-"

Heat slowly crept to my cheeks when he barked out a laugh, chuckling softly at my words and damn I couldn't help but listen to the alluring tone of his voice, if I could, I would listen to him speak all day and I'd never get tired of it. I have spent over nine hundred years with this man and I'd happily spend another nine hundred with him too. The warmth that spread throughout my chest spread through the rest of my body, and I couldn't help but lean forward and place a small kiss on his cheek, making him freeze in his spot, resting one of his hands on my chest as I moved a bit to look into his eyes.

"Y'know I love you right?" I asked, watching him shift back into his human form as I did too. Gently brushing a few strands of his beautiful white hair out of his face as he looked at me with a small smile, "I know, and I love you too [Y/n]." It was a slight surprise when he kissed me, and I couldn't care less about the slight sting in my lower lip as I pressed him closer to me, deepening the kiss that always sent butterflies to my stomach, I just can't help but fall in love with him all over again, each and every time. "Now let's clean up those wounds of yours" He mumbled softly against my lips, which I simply nodded in reply too, pressing a quick peck to his lips before he climbed off my lap and went to get the first aid-kit.

---

"Tssh- ow ow- hey that stings!" I whimpered out as Shirou pressed some ointment onto my bruises and wiped down the small gashes around my bare torso, having already cleaned the bigger one on my face and lower lip. "Stop your complaining you did this to yourself" He growled out in annoyance, obviously tired of my moaning and groaning, but still proceeding to be as gentle as he could. "Yeah yeah, I know" I huffed out, feeling my ears twitch when our front door slammed open, revealing a familiar teen, "Aye, Michiru! Long time no see kiddo what's up?" I grinned at her, watching as she was about to say something until she saw Shirou patching me up.

"[Y/n], are you okay?! What happened?" She asked in a worried tone, scanning over the multiple band-aids that adored my skin. "Just got a bit roughed up on the job, nothing to worry about" I chuckled dryly as Shirou grumbled under his breath, cleaning everything up before storing it away. "Well if you say so- I came to ask if you'd like to play basketball with me again" I could see her practically bouncing in place excitedly since it was our little routine to play a few games every other day, so sending Shirou a pleading look he simply sighed and gave a quick, "Go ahead."

"Yes!" Michiru and I both shouted happily.

"Love you puppy! See you in a bit!"

"Whatever you dumb feline."

"How rude~"

#shirou ogami #shirou bna #bna #shiroubna #shirou x male reader #x male reader #shirou x seme male reader #x seme male reader #shirou x dom male reader #x dom male reader #bna brand new animal

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freddieslater · 3 years

Text

Twelve Days of Rarepairs: Allydia | Allison Argent x Lydia Martin (Teen Wolf)

Requested by @wonderdoves

Hosting a Christmas party is not something Allison ever really planned to do. She just figured that if parties happened to be going on, and she got an invite, she'd go. But throwing one herself? Absolutely not, for many levels of reasons.

Then again, she supposes she isn't throwing it herself. Technically it's not even her party, really—Lydia wanted to throw one, but her mom said no, so she asked to borrow Allison's house. Her dad's out of town with Melissa and won't be back until Christmas day, and her aunt Kate's flight was delayed, so she's still stuck in the airport for the next twenty-four hours or so. Leaving tonight totally free.

For the best, too. Right now, Allison can't even find her way through her own house. She knew it was big, but she didn't realize just how big until nearly a hundred people were crammed inside of it. And that's just a guess.

"Oh—sorry, excuse me," Allison apologizes as she knocks into someone with her shoulder while trying to wind her way past without spilling the cup in her hand.

The person ignores her. She just hurries on, taking a drink. Honestly, she isn't that thirsty, but she needed something to do to feel less awkward and out of place. Plus, Lydia made the punch, and it's surprisingly good when it doesn't have the secret ingredient of wolfsbane.

She narrowly avoids tripping over someone else's foot, stumbling slightly. When she turns back around, she spots Lydia quickly approaching.

Allison breathes a sigh of relief and stops in front of a rather annoyed looking Lydia.

"So, I've not only lost all of our friends in here somewhere, but I'm also ninety percent sure I've lost control of this thing entirely," Lydia tells her.

"Fantastic."

Allison moves a strand of hair away from her face, blowing out a breath.

"Well," she starts, letting her hand swing back to her side, "it could be worse, right? I mean, nothing is totally out of control, and everyone's having fun?"

Lydia raises an eyebrow. "Except you. And now me."

Allison rolls her eyes. "I'm not… not having fun. It is kind of nice to be able to relax a little. At least compared to what we're usually dealing with."

Lydia just gives a little hum in agreement, still not looking entirely sure as she surveys the shouting group hovering near them in the kitchen.

"Here—" Allison holds out her cup, nodding her head at it, "—have a drink. It might help."

"I'm stressed, not dehydrated," Lydia replies, but she still accepts the offer and takes a drink. "Though maybe a little bit of that, too. Thanks. I'm just glad I found you."

A small smile curves Allison's mouth. She tries to ignore the slight flush of warmth in her face. She knows Lydia just means because she's worried about the party getting out of control and she doesn't want to be separated with strangers. But it still makes her a little bit happier to think she brings her some comfort. That feeling of safety that Allison gets every time she catches a glimpse of strawberry blond hair or that smile or their eyes lock across a room.

The eyes she quickly realizes she's been gazing at for a moment too long.

Snapping out of it, she quickly looks away, swallowing. Her heart thumps against her ribs accusingly. It's silenced when her eyes dart up.

Oh.

"What?" Lydia asks, spotting her expression, now fixed on the doorway above them. Frowning, she follows her line of sight before Allison can stop her.

She sees the sprig of mistletoe. One of many that they hung throughout the house, as insisted upon by Stiles when he and Scott came over to help them get the party ready.

"Oh," Lydia says.

Allison's gaze drops back to Lydia. She just stares up at the mistletoe with wide eyes, her lips parted as if to speak, but the words are getting lost on the way out.

"I guess we should have expected something like this," Allison jokes, giving a half shrug and a forced chuckle. Trying to disguise how pink her face must be right now and keep the butterflies in her stomach calm.

Lydia shifts her eyes from their captor to meet Allison's gaze. She presses her lips together, chewing on her lower lip. For a second, Allison thinks she's going to say how it's just some dumb, old tradition, and that she is not going to be a part of keeping something so pointless alive.

But she doesn't say that. She doesn't say anything. Doesn't make a getaway excuse. Her throat shifts as she swallows and takes a deep breath.

Then in a rushed exhale, she says, "You know, hanging mistletoe in a doorway comes from a Norse legend."

Allison's heart sinks. She nods, and smiles. She promised herself that if Lydia didn't show any sign of sharing her feeling by the end of the night, she'd let it go and move on. And reciting a Norse myth seems like a desperate attempt to get out of kissing her without just rejecting her. Even if it would be unknowingly.

"Yeah," Allison says. "The, uh… the legend of Balder. Loki tricked Balder's twin brother into murdering him with mistletoe wood."

Lydia looks startled that she already knows. But surely that gives her an easy out then, right?

"Yeah! Yeah, um…" Lydia doesn't move. She still stands there, glued to the spot, back to chewing at her bottom lip. Her face lights up, and she quickly says, "Well, uh, there are other legends, of course! People tend to mix them up with holly, because they look so similar, so people think that red berries mean mistletoe when, actually, they're quite different. And everyone knows that mistletoe is usually extremely toxic, to both humans and animals. As we know… from past experience."

Allison's just staring at Lydia, her eyebrows raised. She thought she knew where this was going. This? This is not it. Before she can say anything, Lydia's continuing her rambling, at such high speeds it's almost hard to keep up.

"It's toxicity actually varies quite a bit based on region, though, which—"

"Lydia," Allison starts. "We don't—"

"—can actually be really interesting!"

"Lydia."

"There are many different types of mistletoe, with different scientific names. Viscum album, viscum cruciatum, even Phoradendron leucarpum, which is native to North America!"

"That's—that's really interesting, but—"

"Viscum album—the European mistletoe—is more toxic than Phoradendron serotinum, which is the kind that we're most familiar with."

"Oh, that's—I mean—"

"And, despite the fact that all one-thousand-five-hundred types of mistletoe are toxic in most situations, it used to be used for medicinal purposes to treat things like arthritis, epilepsy! It's still used in parts of South Asia, because the effects aren't fatal. Disturbing and, frankly, unpleasant, but not fatal! In fact, the effects tend to be more prominent in animals. Which, wouldn't be good for any of our friends. But—"

"Lydia," Allison finally cuts her off. Her eyebrows are as far as they can be on her forehead. "You're rambling a bunch of scientific facts to me, and honestly, it's a little scary."

Lydia nods, pressing her lips together again. "Yeaaah. Sorry."

Allison pauses, thinking, this is her one opportunity, there will never be a better time, and—Lydia isn't running away. She's nervous rambling science to her. But she's not using her usual methods of getting out of something she doesn't want to do.

Shutting her brain off before she can overthink it, she goes for it.

"I want to kiss you," she tells Lydia. "If you don't want to kiss me, that's fine, we can ignore the mistletoe entirely and move on. Okay?"

The blunt confessions throws Lydia off her usually perfect guard. She blinks those wide eyes, her lips parting but nothing coming out.

"Uh, y-yeah," she fumbles out, then shakes her head, "I mean—I'm okay with it. Kissing you, I'm okay with kissing you—that sounds so lame, oh my god—I want to kiss you, too!"

"Okay," Allison laughs, and leans in.

Her skin is on fire before her lips find Lydia's, and her stomach is doing olympic style flips when she does kiss her, and Lydia's kissing back with an eagerness she definitely wasn't expecting.

If anything, she was certain it'd be a quick, funny peck on the lips, and that's it over and done with, just a fun little moment to laugh about. But Lydia doesn't pull away, and Allison is not going to be the one to pull away first.

Instead, they keep kissing. Lips moving together, Lydia's hands on the sides of Allison's neck, holding her closer.

Next second, someone bumps into them. They break apart out of surprise, Lydia trying not to spill Allison's drink. The person's already stumbled away.

They both look back at each other, Allison's heart in her throat, and Lydia's eyes widening again. She draws her tongue across her bottom lip as she clearly falters for what to say now, but it's actually incredibly distracting.

"So…" Lydia starts, uncertain. Then a small smile forms at the corners of her mouth. "You wanted to kiss me? Any particular reason? Is it because of my lipgloss? It is especially appealing tonight, extra shiny."

Allison can't help but smile at Lydia's teasing tone. It appears her nerves have fluttered off and left behind her usual cool, calm composure.

"That is one reason," Allison says, nodding, and Lydia gives a curious little hum, arching an eyebrow. "But also… because I've wanted to kiss you for a while. Because I really like you. A lot."

"Yeah, I think I got that," Lydia says, barely containing the shake of laughter in her voice and absolutely failing at disguising the sparkle of delight in her eyes. "I just cannot believe that you confessed before I did. And under the mistletoe."

Allison can't even begin to comprehend the "before I did" part. She just laughs as well, shaking her head and faking a wince.

"Wow, of all the cliches," she jokes.

"Well, personally, I don't mind a cliche here and there," Lydia says, with a smile that makes Allison's breath catch in her throat.

She pushes it out and quickly draws in another, returning her smile as she says, "Neither do I."

#teen wolf #twedit #twrarepair #allydia #allison x lydia #lydia x allison #allison argent #lydia martin #twelve days of rarepairs #rowing the rarepair rowboat #myedits*#wonderdoves #so yed they may not be the Rarest pairing #but I love them and this was such a sweet prompt so once again Thank You!!#hope you enjoy!!

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angst-fairygodmother · 4 years

Note

May I requesr reader x the witcher? Reader has a major anxiety attack over something and Geralt tries to calm them down. They end up passing out in his arms (partly from being exhausted, partly from hyperventalating). He makes sure that they don't fall. Their skin is clammy and pale. Their pulse is fast. Geralt keeps an eye on their pulse and is relieved when it starts to slow down. When they wake up, he comforts them. Fluffy ending please. (Sorry if its too specific) Thankyousomuch !!! 🥺🥺🥺

A/N: Anxiety and panic attacks are such...unique responses to stressors that it’s a struggle to capture what they’re like for someone else, but I hope this was something at least akin to what you were looking for. Word Count: 1429 Content Warning: anxiety attack descriptions

You had been travelling with Geralt for long enough that the monsters didn’t seem to faze you anymore. It didn’t matter how fearsome or horrible they seemed to be, you stared them down unflinchingly as you fought beside your witcher friend. And though he would be the last to admit it, he had come to rely on your stoic presence watching his back.

That reliance was precisely why neither of you were prepared when it struck. A griffin had swooped low over the road, shrieking, its great flapping wings nearly knocking you to the ground with the force of air. And then, as quick as it had dropped out of the sky, it was gone again like it had never been.

“Shit,” you heard Geralt mutter, his amber eyes scanning the skies in case the creature came back.

Eventually, he seemed satisfied and you moved on, but you couldn’t get the vicious leonine creature out of your mind. Every shift of cloud that blocked the sun, every rustle of the trees in the forest to your left, every skittering of rock on the slowly rising hills that you rode through was the griffin coming back. And it had proven itself not only powerful, but fast. There would be no way to react in time, no way for Geralt to draw his sword even with his witcher reflexes, let alone you with your ordinary human ones.

“Geralt,” you called to your travelling companion, your stomach clenching. Familiar with the signs, you knew what would come next and tried to minimize the damage even as your mind grew fuzzy. “Can we stop?”

“We still have a few hours of light,” he said absently, not even glancing back over his shoulder at you. “At the very least we need to find somewhere less open.”

You swallowed thickly, your mouth and throat feeling desert-dry and tight. Blood rushed in your ears loud enough that you barely heard your own trembling voice.

“No, Geralt. We need…I need…”

‘Where had the air gone?’ you found yourself wondering as spots of black and sparkling light danced across your vision.

It was as if iron bands had clamped tight around your muscles and your lungs, squeezing tighter and tighter by the second.

Geralt’s face suddenly appeared, wavering in front of you, mouth moving though you couldn’t hear the sounds he made.

And then there was nothing.

Geralt had always been pleasantly surprised by your calm and practicality, especially in comparison to his previous travelling companion. You never complained, never hesitated, could take care of yourself. Which was why he’d been surprised by your request to end a day’s travel early, enough that he was keenly focused for signs you weren’t showing him that you might have been hurt. When you started to insist again on stopping, he half-intended to leave you in the dust, an old habit seated in fear of how someone might react encountering him on the twilight road or in a dusky wood. Instead, his sensitive hearing caught on the hitch in your pulse and he pulled Roach to a quick halt so he could check on you.

He only had moments, spent trying to ask you what was wrong as he took in your deathly pallor and pupils blown wide before you collapsed and he lunged forward on instinct to catch you. Gently cradling your upper body, he lowered the pair of you to the ground and laid two fingers gently on the pulse point of your neck. He could hear the way your whole body sped up, taut and poised on the edge of something, adrenaline overtaking you, but it was easier if he could actually feel and count the beats of your heart pumping your blood.

At this stage, there wasn’t much he could do but watch over you until you woke, and he hated himself for it. He should have seen that something was wrong sooner, should have sensed that you weren’t okay and done something instead of trying to brush you off. Gently, he brushed sweat-soaked hair from your face as you lay in his arms.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

The sun was beginning to set behind the distant trees by the time you stirred. Your pulse had normalized earlier, and there had been no signs of other travelers or that the griffin might return, so Geralt hadn’t been worried and decided to just let you rest until you came too on your own.

Disoriented, you sat up slowly, feeling an ache in every inch of your body, but especially in your head, which you clasped between hands rested on your knees with a groan.

“Finally,” Geralt’s soft, gravelly voice said, off to your left.

You turned slowly to face him, puzzled and tired.

“What happened?” you asked.

“You fainted. As for why, you tell me.”

A hot flush crept across the back of your neck and up the sides of your face, embarrassment at what you perceived as your failure to keep up and at the obvious concern and warmth in him. His posture was hunched but not in a way that made you feel closed off from him, as he usually did, and his face was gentle, amber eyes watching you for signs of further distress.

“I don’t…I guess…I let my own mind get the better of me, and I…panicked a little?” you offered with a shrug, trying to dismiss it like a one-time situation rather than something that occurred, if you were being honest, rather often but which you usually managed to keep under control, or at least secret, until you were away from him and free to break down on your own.

“Because of the griffin?”

You were surprised that he was taking the time to ask the obvious questions.

“Yes, I guess. The monsters that fly are all a little more…intense than ones that don’t and this one was so fast and graceful. The thought of being caught out in the open, or anywhere, by it…was too much.”

“Do you…have these kind of…attacks often?”

“No,” you lied again.

He gave you an incredulous look, one that said you were handling things too well for them to not be a familiar song and dance. Still, he didn’t push.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked.

“I’m…okay now. Better. Just tired, and sore. I…if you want to keep moving for a while longer I should be fine.”

“Don’t be stupid. We’ll stop here for the night, and get moving early in the morning to make up the time.”

“Geralt, you don’t have to do that. I can handle it.”

“You’re allowed to have limitations, Y/N. And I’d rather you rest now and be well than push yourself too far and make things worse.”

“Right, I guess it would slow you down more in the long run.”

“That’s not…” he sighed, moving until he was kneeling right in front of you, towering over you. “It’s not just about efficiency.”

“What do you mean?” you frowned, eyebrows knitting together in confusion and privately Geralt found himself amused and rather taken in by the expression.

“I care about you,” he admitted. “I wouldn’t have asked you to come with me if I didn’t. And today, when I thought something was wrong…more wrong…”

He suddenly turned away, jaw clenched as he fought internally over how much to tell you. With a dawning realization and a soft smile, you gently reached up to place the tips of your fingers on his cheek and turn him back to you.

“It’s okay to have been worried, or even scared, Geralt.”

As you spoke, the witcher leaned his forehead against your own, eyes shut. You weren’t sure whether the gesture was one of affection or resignation, but you imagined he probably heard the way your heart leapt from it either way.

“I’m fine, I promise. I will consent to camping here for the night if that will make you happier.”

He let out a long, relieved breath that he no longer had felt like he had to fight you for your own wellbeing, or admit the depth of his feeling.

The two of you sat like that for a while, each breathing the other and finding calm and peace in their proximity, until finally, he rose and set about preparing a camp as if there had been no exchange. You smiled, he was not a man of words, but you knew anyway, and were glad of it, that he was there for you and cared for you, and for now, that was enough.

#this honestly might have been the most challenging request I've gotten so far #but I think it turned out well anyway #I do regularly get it confused whether anxiety attacks or panic attacks are the ones that typically happen without a trigger #so I hope I didn't screw that up #Geralt of Rivia #Geralt x Reader #reader insert #tw: panic attack #tw: anxiety attack #tw panic attack #tw anxiety attack #The Witcher fic

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flutteringphalanges · 4 years

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Summary: “Am I in Hell?” Agatha’s voice was hoarse, a hint of fear in her tone. “That depends on your definition,” Dracula answered. “Perhaps.” His fingers felt cool against her burning skin, the fever raging through her body. “If you’re going to kill me, then do it,” she mumbled. The count chuckled, gazing into her eyes. “On the contrary,” he smirked. “I’m going to save you.”

((In which Dracula cares for a gravely ill Agatha))

Characters: Agatha Van Helsing/Dracula

Rating: M *THIS CHAPTER HAS SMUT*

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Oh god, it’s officially, this story is M and I wrote my first actual smut scene. I’m so nervous my stomach is flip flopping. Thank you for all of your support! I could really use some feedback on this one, guys! Like, ah! This was different! I hope you enjoy it! If you don’t want to read the smut, stop reading after the italicized part and pick back up on chapter eight whenever I finish that! Okay, I hope you enjoy! -Jen

Chapter Seven

"If it hurts too much, we can try again tomorrow."

Dracula's words seemed distant to Agatha as she bit down on her lower lip, her injured hand grasping the wooden stake. Three weeks had passed since the incident and it had been the vampire's suggestion that she work on regaining the strength she once possessed. He'd even gone so far as to give her a stake-a humorous take at inspiration, to squeeze in order to test her muscles. It hurt. Like Hell. Every fiber from the tips of her fingers to her palm burning. But she kept on despite this. Van Helsings weren't weak and she sure wasn't going to be the first one.

"Good," Dracula coached. "You're getting stronger." His lips curved into a smile as she met his gaze, her forehead speckled with droplets of sweat. "Perhaps I should start becoming a little nervous again."

"Your sarcasm needs as much work as my hand." She snorted, rolling her eyes as she loosened her hold. "I like to visualize thrusting this through your chest."

"Whatever motivates you, Agatha," the vampire smirked. "I would expect nothing less."

She huffed softly, the pale purple of her dress complimenting her fair complexion. It was surprisingly comfortable and not overly elegant-something she had expected when it came to the Count and his taste for the finer things in life. And of the few he had given to her, this one was her favorite. Though, she did her best not to overly flatter him. He was still the enemy. The target. And she kept that in mind. Even if the thought did occasionally slip the forefront of her mind.

"So, what are your plans for today, hm?" Dracula eyed her curiously. In a way, it was almost an inside joke at this point. There wasn't much in the castle to do and though Agatha swore each day would be her last, she had yet to leave. "Any new plots? Motivations?"

"As if I would ever share them with you." She responded curtly, pretending to be mildly interested in her piece of wood. "Did you find the books I requested?"

"Ah, so I've become your servant now, have I?" The vampire mused, leaning back in his chair. "First-no, twice I've healed you now, provided you with clothing and food, and now you ask for reading materials?" She gave him a look and he smirked. "I would forget about your precious books even though you have an entire library here at your disposal."

"We have different tastes," Agatha merely shrugged. "And since I'm being held captive, I don't think it's too much to ask."

"Perhaps I should've purchased a dictionary so you could've read up on the difference between captivity and free will." The Count snorted, shaking his head. "Honestly, Agatha, sometimes I question you."

"Question me about what?" She asked in genuine curiosity.

"Everything," he replied. "Take that as an insult or a compliment is your choice. But I'd personally think of it as a good thing."

Agatha eyed him for a moment before looking away. Sometimes she found herself questioning him. Had she really stayed in the castle for this long? It was hard to keep track of time some days. Dracula tended to keep things in the dark, torches being the only light to brighten what little space they cast down upon. There was one way to know. A way she very much didn't like or approve of.

"I'll be hunting tonight." Dracula informed her, rising from where he sat. "I shouldn't be too long."

She knew what that meant. He already had someone or several people in mind. The vampire was calculated, meticulous. Dracula knew who he wanted and when he wanted them and she truly despised it. The loss of innocent life. Absentmindedly, her fingers began to tap on the table, dangerously close to the stake. But even she knew that for whatever reason, she had no intentions on using it.

"Don't let them suffer." It was an odd request, before she'd spat at him to refrain from killing to begin with. What was she becoming? "If you must, have mercy."

Now the vampire even looked somewhat taken aback by her words. "I let them dream," the Count replied. "It's as humane as one can get when taking their life. In the end, wouldn't you wish the same?"

"When I take my final breath, I want it to be quick and painless." Agatha said, locking her eyes on his. "I don't think I even wish to know what is happening. Dreams can be a nightmare on their own. I'd rather fade away into the thoughtlessness of the unknown."

"No white light? No ringing bells as you arrive at your believed gates of the Silver City?" He inquired with a small smile. "My, what an interesting nun you were indeed."

"I've been told that quite a lot." Agatha answered with a small, half smile. "Isn't that the reason you spared me?"

"There is not a singular reason for me deciding to save you." Dracula replied simply as he fetched his cape. "You are a rarity of your species, Agatha. Like a fine aged wine. And I quite like that about you."

"But you don't drink." She replied, cocking an eyebrow.

"Wine," he grinned. "And as much as I love our conversations, the moon is full and night only lasts for so long." The vampire seemed to study her for a moment before speaking once more. "Goodbye, Agatha, I suppose I shall see you shortly."

"Don't get caught up in the Sun," she merely smirked. "Ashes aren't the easiest to sweep up."

And with a quiet snort, the nun watched as he disappeared. Something in her stomach twisted. A rather strange feeling manifesting from within as she rose from her chair. But the cool draft from the castle halls soothed her troubled mind.

Agatha wrung out water from a cloth she had soaking in a bucket and dabbed at the beads of sweat on her grandfather's brow. Abraham Van Helsing's chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, his lips speckled with blood. Tuberculosis. She knew how dangerous it was. How infectious the disease could be. But she wasn't about to let him die alone. Not after everything.

"Agatha."

The name came out as a croak and she couldn't tell if he was addressing her or mindlessly saying the word. She gripped his hand, feeling how hot and clammy his skin was. He smelled of death. A sickening stench. But she swallowed the bile in the back of her throat. Down, down to the pit of her stomach.

"Yes, Grandfather?" She whispered, hearing her own emotion in her voice. She had to remain strong. Abraham hated weakness. And in the end, she would give him what he desired.

"Don't…" He heaved before hacking up another spray of bright red blood. "Don't let him win…"

"Who?" She said, leaning in closer as his tone grew faint. "Who shouldn't I let win?"

"The vampire," Abraham coughed. "Dracula...no matter what, destroy him. Do what I…" He was panting, struggling as his lungs fought against his own body. "...Finish what I couldn't."

"I promise, Grandfather." Agatha murmured, pressing her forehead to his still hand. "I'll take down Count Dracula even if it kills me. You have my word…"

It was the sound of howling that caused Agatha to sit upright in her chair. She sucked in a breath, nearly knocking a book onto the floor that she had been reading. Had she really fallen asleep? As she rose from her spot, the castle doors flew open and there Dracula stood. Stripped down. Completely, utterly naked. Their eyes locked onto one another and, as if drawn to him by an unknown power, she drew closer. Fainter and fainter become the words of her grandfather. A dream lost as something else surfaced in her mind.

It reminded her of the night back at St. Mary's Convent. The black wolf with the soulless eyes. Agatha stepped forward and hesitantly reached out a hand. Dracula remained still as she touched his chest, the thick slime of carnage coating her skin like that of a newborn babe. It was surprisingly warm, the scent strong. But not as foul as she had expected. No. Earthy. Wet. And her fingers traced lightly over his flesh, creating shapes that held no given name.

"You're a monster." But there was surprisingly no malice in her tone. "A beast."

"I am," the vampire agreed. "Are you frightened?"

"No," Agatha shook her head, finally meeting his gaze. "No, I'm not."

This time he touched her, hands moving to slide the shoulders of her dress down. Her skin was creamy, but held more blush than his ever would. She was alive after all. Dracula could hear Agatha's heart rate begin to increase, the succulent vein that was her jugular throbbing just enough to where he could visibly watch it thrum against her throat. He paused momentarily, dark eyes holding her blues.

"I could kill you right where we stand now." His voice was low, calm. "Break you in two. Drain you dry of every drop of your blood." The Count's index finger trailed down the curve of her cheek. "You should be terrified of me."

"I've survived with you this long, haven't I?" She countered, inhaling deeply. "And I could've easily killed you as well." He smirked at her words. "So it seems we've spared each other."

"For the time being," he answered.

"For the time being," she agreed.

When his fingers undid the back of her dress with such precision, Agatha didn't protest. Unlike before when she stood naked before him, she didn't cover herself. Dracula's tongue trailed across her skin like a serpent, flicking against the perk bud on her right breast. She trembled, but it wasn't in fear. Far, far from it.

"Agatha…"

His mouth brushed against her stomach, cool air from his whispers bringing forth goosebumps. He was moving slow. So slow. Whether or not he was doing it on purpose, she wasn't sure. It was violent or done in fury like the first time. And when his hands went to part her legs, she let out a breathless gasp.

"Bed…" She managed to choke out as he looked up at her in amusement. "Move to…" Christ, she couldn't even get a sentence out. The bastard had bewitched her. "I'll…"

"I won't let you fall." Dracula finished as if reading her mind. "Let me take control."

Control. Like Hell she'd give him the upper...oh. OH. Agatha couldn't stifle back the moan that escaped deep from within her throat as Dracula drug his tongue against the sensitive, pink slit. The Count supported her with one arm as he nuzzled his face against her. Her toes curled tightly together and she whimpered. Whimpered like a frightened animal that was hunted by a hungry wolf.

"Please…" She swallowed, so close on the edge. "I need…"

"Hm?" Dracula paused, seemingly delighted by the former nun's state. "What do you need Agatha?" He touched her gently. Teasingly soft. Testing her. "You're quite hard to understand."

"You." She finally forced out through her teeth. "I need you!"

Apparently that was all the Count needed to hear. Swept up as if she was as light as a feather and whisked her away. Dracula laid her spread eagle across the bed. It was only then that Agatha realized how hard the vampire's length had gotten. He loomed over her studying his prize. Before she could utter another plea, he plunged himself deep within her core. She gasped, arching her back as he began to thrust, both of his hands pinning her wrists to the mattress.

It wasn't right. It was so wrong. So wrong that it was right. So very, very right. And Agatha relished in it. Her eyes closed as the sound of her heart racing filled her ears. She grew closer. Ever so closer. Right to the edge. And as his name hung to the very tip of her tongue, Agatha Van Helsing felt the sharp, white hot pain of fangs piercing into her neck.

And her eyes flew wide open.

#Dracula #Dracula 2020 #Dragatha #Agatha Van Helsing #Dracula x Agatha #A Bad Moon Rising

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lumosinlove · 6 years

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So u said your requests were open...... I kinda have an angsty Wolfstar ask..... Like, what would happen if Sirius somehow got bitten by some other werewolf (Greyback or some rando person) (let's say that for this full moon he can't be with Remus and the others cuz Order mission or something). How does Re react? What happens to the person that did it? (If you don't feel like writing this that's perfectly fine just ignore the ask)

ahhhh….angst, my old friend.

Sirius gets bit by a werewolf

Despite the disorientation that came with the morning after full moons, Remus always knew where he was and why he was there. The lycanthrope left a bitter taste in his mouth, a sour feeling in his veins. The sun filtering through the window felt unnatural against his skin, like either it was burning too hot or he was.

Remus cleared his throat, trying to rid himself of the taste and clenched and unclenched his hands a few times, feeling the humanness of the way his muscles worked. He could feel the heat of a fresh gash across his lower jaw and sighed inwardly, clenching his teeth against the slight throb.

There were a few more moments of quiet in his mind, of sinking into the slowly familiarizing warmth of the sun, before his eyes opened, blinded by the light, and blinked. He looked around the room he was in. James and Lily’s guest room, which had more or less become his and Sirius’. Sirius’ clothes were falling out of the top drawers, while his were neatly folded within the bottom. His books lined the shelves, and Sirius’ old broomstick leaned against the wall in the corner, looking sad from lack of use against the blue paint. It was empty, but there was a chair next to his bed as if someone had been sitting there, and a glass of water charmed to keep cold. He sat up, forearms shaking for a second with the effort, and reached for the water. He cursed when his fingers nearly couldn’t hold tight enough and reached with the other hand to cup the bottom and bring it to his mouth for a few quick gulps.

Finally succeeding in pushing himself out of bed, he pulled on one of Sirius’ jumpers hanging out of his drawer, the thick sweatshirt material feeling cool and weighted against his skin. He gathered the ends of the sleeves into his palms, over his cold fingers, and pushed through the door into the hallway that overlooked the staircase. The house was quiet, a sort of calm that accompanied the morning, but he could hear the quick murmuring voices from the floor below. Remus trotted quietly down the carpeted stairs, balancing himself on the banister. He wandered into the kitchen first, seeking out the always heated kettle James had gotten Lily for her birthday. When he opened up one of the squeaking cupboard he heard the talking momentarily cease, listening to his presence, and then start up again, quieter this time. He frowned briefly over his shoulder, unease blooming in his chest, and went about the calming process of making tea. He took his time letting it steep as he fetched the milk and sugar, giving himself an extra spoonful in honor of a rather rough moon. He stirred, the spoon clinking against the ceramic mug, before depositing it in the sink and walking into the living room to join the others with his fingers wrapped around the warmth.

“Morning.” He stopped in the doorway, brows drawing together slightly, “What’s going on?”

The unease in his chest spread at the way they were all huddled around the couch, blocking it nearly entirely from his view. Lily turned around first, face pale and shadowed. It looked like she hadn’t slept. She had turned, but she hadn’t resigned her position in blocking the sofa. James too, now, was looking over his shoulder at him, glasses removed, hazel eyes looking dark and worried.

“What’s going on?” Remus said again, “Wh…”

His eyes flickered over them, counting. One, two, three, four, five, six. Red hair, brown hair, blonde hair.

The unease turned into cold dread, icing over whatever discomfort he’d been feeling. Remus’ fingers tightened around his mug. He wasn’t there. Sirius wasn’t there.

His eyes flickered to where they couldn’t see, to the hidden view of the couch. Around Marlene’s shoulder, he spotted it. A bit of black, curling hair sprawled across one of the cushions. He looked from it to their faces, their drawn, horrified faces.

The tea slipped from his fingers, and he stepped right through the steaming shards. He pushed through James’ hand on his shoulder, through Lily’s pleas, and dropped to his knees beside the couch, beside Sirius’ stretched out, limp body.

He heard himself make a sound in the back of his throat, a soft groan, as he took Sirius’ face in his hands. It was warm, almost alarmingly so. The veins in his temples stood out, and a sheen of sweat covered his neck and pooled in the dip between his collarbones. His usually tanned skin looked grayish except for a vivid flush spread in the hollows of his cheeks. His hair was curled from the heat of his own body, sticking to his forehead and temples.

“Remus—“

“What happened?” Remus pressed his fingers to Sirius’ cheeks, to his neck, his shoulders, feeling the heat of his body through his thin t-shirt, feeling for injuries. His own voice sounded strange in his ears, pitched low with panic, “What happened, what’s wrong with him?”

What was he doing?

James was beside him suddenly, hand firm on his shoulder, “Moony. Moony, I need you to look at me.”

“Tell me.” Remus’ hands were at Sirius’ ribs now, pushing his t-shirt up, “Why—“

Remus shut his mouth abruptly. His vision seemed to sharpen, painfully so, the drift out of focus only to sharpen again. He thought maybe he’d stopped breathing. He gripped Sirius’ t-shirt with one hand, the couch with the other, staring down at the bandaged wound that occupied the right side of Sirius’ upper chest, the shape of it outlined in the blood bleeding through the cotton. Remus clenched his jaw against the wave of nausea that threatened, the burning in his throat, at the familiarity of that shape.

He closed his eyes, then opened them again, and it was still there, the crescent moon bite bleeding out of Sirius’ body, the blood nearly black with the poison it carried.

“Please—“ Remus’ voice came out no stronger than a whisper, shaking under the threat of tears, “Please, that’s not… That’s not…”

He heard James let out a breath from beside him, laced with tears, and felt his head drop to his shoulder.

Remus bowed his head too, breath coming in short, unbearable pants.

“Remus.” James’ voice in his ear, soft, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

But Remus shook his head, feeling his face start to break at the words. The next breath he took came out a sob, then another, until they were ripping at his chest. He leaned forward, taking Sirius sleeping face in his hands again. He put his palm to his neck, feeling the heated, uneven pulse there, while the other twisted into his hair. He pressed his lips to Sirius’ temple, nose in his hair, and his tears fell there too. Remus held him like that, his tears fallen silent except for the hitches in his breath, as if it would protect him, as if it would stop what was to come.

“I’m sorry.” Remus’ voice cracked, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” He whispered the words into Sirius’ skin, “I’m sorry.”

It was Lily this time who spoke, breaking the silence with a gasp, “No, Remus. No, no—“ She dropped to her knees on Remus’ other side, glancing a panicked look at James, “No, Re, it wasn’t you. You didn’t bite him.” Her hand pressed to the back of his neck, “It wasn’t you, Remus.”

Remus froze, looking at her with hooded, terrified eyes, “I didn’t…”

James’ hand pressed to his back, thumb rubbing softly, “He wasn’t with us last night, mate. He had a mission, remember?”

Remus let out a breath, a small, sliver of relief cutting through the ice in his chest. He pressed another kiss to Sirius’ temple, holding his lips there for a moment, tasting the salt on his skin, “Who?” He whispered, looking back up at James, “Who?”

James just shook his head, eyes falling, “We don’t know. He showed up like this, passed out with the effort of apparating.”

Rage spiked through Remus’ blood as quickly and sharply as the relief had. James must have seen it light somewhere behind his eyes because he the hand on his back moved to grip his shoulder gently, “Remus. Not now. We will find them. You know we’ll find them. You know we will, just…you’re both weak right now. You need to take care.” James nodded towards Sirius, “Of each other.”

Remus nodded, clenching his teeth, jaw muscles jumping with the effort. He looked back to Sirius’ sleeping form. He looked restless, but not in pain. His brows were drawn together, lips parted slightly, “I’ll kill them.” Remus ran his thumb over the high of Sirius’ cheek softly. His voice shook, “I’ll kill them.”

The room was quiet, his words settling into the space.

“We—” James mumbled into the silence, “We could move him to the bed now that Re’s up.”

Remus nodded, reluctantly pulling his hands away from Sirius and allowing James to stoop over him, picking him up rather gingerly in his arms. When his head lulled back, Remus was there, tucking it gently against James’ shoulder.

“Thanks.” James offered him a tight smile, before turning for Remus to follow him up the stairs.

Remus waited for the others to leave the room, door closing with a soft snick before he let out the breath he was holding in shuttering, slow gasps. His entire body felt shaky as he laid down beside Sirius on the bed, cold fingers hooking around his arm, nose against his shoulder, not wanting to disturb or hurt him but needing the close contact. He smelled the same, Remus was glad about that. There was perhaps the slight tang of blood added into the mix, but that would fade as the wound healed. Remus lay there, barely breathing, watching as Sirius’ fever broke, sweat drying on his skin, and then sun set outside the window. He watched his eyes move beneath the thin lids, watched his chest rise and fall.

He’s alive, Remus tried to tell himself, He’s alive, that’s all that matters.

“Hm.” The sound Sirius’ made was soft and deep, sleep filled.

Remus’ eyes flashed back to Sirius’ face where he realized they had closed. Sirius’ eyes were still closed too, but he let out an uneven breath, the ease of sleep seeping from his body. Remus watched him swallow over his dry throat, and felt cold seeping into his veins. Would he have to tell him, or would he already know?

“Re.”

Sirius’ voice cracked around the nickname, but he raised his hand slowly, folding it across his body, his fingers finding Remus’ where they were curled around his arm.

Remus turned his hand upwards into Sirius’ palm, “‘m here.”

Sirius hummed again, eyes still closed, “Okay.” He swallowed again, brows furrowing with the effort, “‘m gonna open my eyes in a second.” His voice was rough, “Do you know what’s gonna happen when I do?”

Remus’ heart pounded against his ribs. He felt tears throb behind his eyes and he brushed his lips against the cotton covering Sirius’ shoulder and shook his head, voice a whisper, “No.” He had no idea.

Sirius turned towards him blindly, lips parted. Remus brushed their noses together and the corner of Sirius’ mouth turned up just a little. His fingers tightened around Remus’, “When I open my eyes, you’re going to stop worrying. You’re going to stop being sad.”

Remus blinked. So he knew, he remembered.

“That means you have a few more seconds,” The almost smile again, “get it out of your system, love.”

Remus exhaled a shaky breath, but stayed quiet. He counted, one, two, three, four, five, six…

And then Sirius opened his eyes. With the light yellow ring around the outer iris that the wolf brought, his eyes looked like lightning against a gray sky. Remus pulled his lip between his teeth, thumb reaching out to stroke just under his eye, the soft skin there.

“God.” Remus’ voices was rough too, “I hate that and love it at the same time.”

Sirius smiled, for real this time, and it felt so out of place from the rest of Remus’ day that it caught in his chest and lodged there uncomfortably until the warmth of it started melting all the ice away, “Well. I always liked it on you.”

Remus let out a soft laugh, a little watery, a little sad, but he was smiling all the same. “Pads—“ He moved his fingers up to Sirius’ hair, “Why weren’t you being careful, why didn’t—“

“Hey, my eyes are open.” Sirius shifted on to his side, wincing a little, to wrap an arm around Remus’ waist, pulling him against his chest. Their foreheads pressed together and Remus closed his eyes when Sirius did, “No more worrying. Everything’s fine, isn’t it?”

“I—“

“Really think about it, love. Everything’s okay, right? I’m here. You’re here.”

Remus tightened his fingers in Sirius’ dark strands, loving him immensely, “Yes.” He whispered, “Yes.”

Sirius leaned forward, chin tilting to press their lips together gently. Remus pressed harder into it, his body curving forward, “Don’t scare me like that, though.” Their lips brushed, “Promise.”

“Promise.” Sirius whispered back, before kissing him again in the moonlit room.

#wolfstar #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #wolfstar angst #sirius black #remus lupin #harry potter #harry potter fic #wolfstar fic #the marauders era #the marauders era headcanons #the marauders era fic #wolfstar fluff #harry potter headcanons #writing #james potter #lily evans #the order of the pheonix

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blameitonthebleach · 6 years

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Can I request a scenario for Retsu or Isane please? They have a s/o who has been in a coma for sometime for some reason. Everyday our lady takes care of the fem!/SO and although it seems futile now, their wish is for their beloved to open their eyes again. A Christmas miracle happens and they wake up, they don't have to spend their Christmases alone anymore.

You sure can, my dear! I chose Isane for this one, because the ladies don’t get enough love on my blog.

It had been close to a year now. After what was supposed to be a routine mission in the Rukongai turned much more sinister, you were injured protecting your beloved Isane. From two different squads, you were the Fourth Division’s extra escort, and though Isane didn’t need your protection, it made you feel just a little better to be at her side. You loved the way she looked directing her squad members; that stern, concentrated expression, and the way she always had one hand on her hip making her regal and beautiful. You’d been together for what felt like centuries, and you always thought that she just…got you. You got each other, honestly.

You knew that when she was fatigued, the only person she’d let see her weak and tired was you. She’d shyly sidle up to you when no one was looking and rest her head on your shoulder. Just the same, when you were angry, frustrated, or exhausted, she was always there to cheer you on with some sage advice and that beautiful smile.

On that mission a year ago, it was just days away from Christmas. You two had decided that you would spend the day as the humans did, and you personally had drilled Orihime on human holiday customs so it would be perfect. On the way to the Rukongai, you’d spoken animatedly to Isane about how excited you were, how hard you tried, and that you couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when she opened her gift. You assured her that it was just something small, but you wanted her to have it anyway. She had teased you, calling you silly, but you saw the small smile play at the corners of her mouth and the affection in her dark eyes.

Upon reaching a clearing where Squad Four was supposed to aid some injured shinigami, something was…off. No one could put their finger on it, not even the skilled lieutenant captain herself. Everyone was on edge, and she worried about you even as she completed her duties. You could certainly take care of yourself in any normal situation, but this was completely abnormal. There should have at least been some residual reiatsu in the surrounding area, but there was nothing. Isane could feel nothing save for the shinigami in the clearing. Keeping her eyes peeled, she assisted the fallen with the rest of her squad, trusting you to have her back in an emergency.

In the time it took to blink, the clearing was filled with commotion. First, it was a scream to Isane’s left. When she looked, the only thing remaining was a morbid painting in the dirt. She didn’t even have time to think about who it was before chaos ensued. Looking over her should, she didn’t need to hand out orders to you as you drew your zanpakuto to aid the others. Before she could voice that they needed to get the wounded back to the Seireitei immediately–

“Isane!”

Instinct guiding her actions, her blade was drawn and ready, but it was too late. Whatever Hollow had massacred their fellow shinigami was directly on top of her. In a blur of motion, you were there to take the blow of its ugly claws, sending a spray of blood and gore across the ground at Isane’s feet. You’d managed to deal it significant damage, but it was nowhere near defeated. You could no longer stand as the black faded in from the edges of your vision. Isane screamed your name, and the last thing you saw was a face of anger and hatred, and one single tear stain her porcelain skin.

The Hollow was defeated in record time, and Isane had to take a breath for that fact to settle in. She directed her strong gaze to the rest of her squad. “Get the injured back to the Seireitei immediately,” she repeated.

“Lieutenant, what about–?” They cast a glance at your unconscious form.

“I’ll take care of it. Now, move.”

There was more chaos once everyone reached the Seireitei. Three shinigami were pronounced dead on arrival, two were MIA, and one was presumed dead judging by the gory scene from the first scream. Doing her best to remain impartial, she instructed Hanataro to tend to you while she looked over some of the other patients in dire condition. However, Captain Unohana, ever astutely aware of everything, assigned Isane to your care with a gentle hand on her shoulder. She could have cried, she was so grateful, but there would be time for tears later.

It took several hours, and she still required Hanataro’s help. It wasn’t pretty. Your mangled body broke her heart as she worked tirelessly for hours. Your feminine form looked more fragile than it ever had before. When there finally wasn’t anything left to do except wait for you to heal, she sent Hanataro away with her thanks. You were in the clear, your life was no longer in danger, so it was strange when you just…didn’t wake up. A few days passed, and she figured it was normal. These things happened, and Unohana wasn’t worried. Then it was a week, and then two. Then a month. Before she knew it, it had been an entire year.

The preparations you’d both made for Christmas were never fulfilled, and your gift to her–sitting on your bedside table, wrapped immaculately to show your love–remained unopened. She couldn’t have cared less about the present. All she wanted was for you to open your eyes, and tell her everything was okay. The person she cried to when bad things happened remained unresponsive on a hospital bed. Isane checked your vitals every day. She caressed your cheek, smoothed your hair, and every night before she left she kissed your forehead, hoping that maybe that would rouse you enough to come back to her. She missed your warmth, your smile, your soothing words.

Christmas Eve rolled around, and Isane was still by your side. She’d changed your bed sheets and clothes, and had gotten into the habit of telling you about her day. After all, coma patients could often hear and were aware of the outside world, they just couldn’t interact, couldn’t they? That thought alone broke her heart even more, but talking to you was the only respite she got.

“Hey, ___, it’s Christmas Eve,” she said gently. Smiling, she fluffed your pillow and fiddled with the flowers at your bedside. “Are you going to leave me alone again?”

She laughed derisively at her own joke, then took her permanent seat next to you. Propping her elbow up on the bed, she sighed. At least you looked peaceful, she reasoned with herself.

“Isane,” came her sister Kiyone’s voice. “I knew I’d find you here.”

Isane gave her a pained smile. “Here I am…”

The silence stretched on, deafening in the face of the falling snow outside.

“Are you going to stay here all night again?” Kiyone whispered, setting a concerned hand on her shoulder. “I know you’re worried, we all are, but you’ll make yourself miserable being all my yourself. ___ wouldn’t want that, and you know it.”

“But…what if she wakes up, Kiyone?” Isane mumbled, unable to help herself. “What if she finally opens her eyes, and I’m not there for her?”

It was silent for a moment again.

“I’m not going to force you. I know how close you both are, and I know how much you love her. Just… Don’t push yourself. You can’t help her if you aren’t taking care of yourself.”

With those parting words, Kiyone left quietly to talk to her captain, and Isane let out a sigh. Her sister was right: there was nothing she could do to make you wake up. If there was, she’d have done it a long time ago. She sat with you for another half hour, talking about everything and nothing, and left you as usual with a warm kiss to the forehead.

After a night out with her sister and some of the other members of the Shinigami Women’s Association, Isane was feeling just a hint better than the day before. A girl’s night had been just what she needed to reinvigorate herself, or so Rangiku had determined. They all supported her, and couldn’t wait for you to wake up and help them with their latest plot to sneak further pictures of the men around the Seireitei.

Early that morning, you’d had a nightmare. Everything after that incident was a nightmare, honestly, but reliving the event was definitely awful. Choking on a scream, you’d awoken to a startled Hanataro checking your vitals, and the quick appearance of Captain Unohana herself. Breathing heavily, your hand clutched at the fabric of your clothes as you stared around the room in confusion.

“W-What happened?” you got out after a minute of trying to remember how to move your mouth. Your voice was scratchy and rough from disuse, and your mouth felt like the deepest pits of Hueco Mundo. As Hanataro floundered for something to say, a look from his captain sobered him up, and he went in search of Isane.

“You were injured by a Hollow in the Rukongai,” Unohana stated calmly. “You saved Isane’s life, but sacrificed your own. Does any of this sound familiar?”

“…Vaguely,” you replied. You couldn’t remember the details, but the bigger picture was there. “How long was I unconscious?”

“It’s been over a year.”

“A year!?” you asked incredulously, hoping that she was joking. Unohana never joked.

It was at that time Isane burst into the room, panting as her hair was in disarray. Well, more in disarray than usual. It hadn’t felt like very long to you, but to Isane it had been a lifetime.

“___!” she cried, running to your side. Unohana excused herself quietly, assured that you were okay to catch up with your lover for the time being.

“I-Isane…” you said, feeling guilty. Wrapping your arms around her tall frame, you buried your nose in the crook of her neck. “I’m sorry I made you worry… And I’m sorry I ruined our Christmas plans.”

“Idiot! I don’t care about that!” Pulling away to hold your face in her hands, she glared at you lovingly as the tears spilled down her cheeks. You stretched out your hand to wipe her tears.

“You were crying then…” you whispered. “For me.”

“I thought I’d lost you,” she hissed back. “And I don’t care about the gifts or the celebration, I just care about you.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but it was quickly covered by Isane’s warm lips. You melted into her with a sigh, hands on hers hips pulling her closer by her shihakusho. She tasted like salt and booze, a taste that was strange to you, but it was still her. It made your heart beat quicker, and Isane slid her tongue along your bottom lip, unable to stop herself. Not much better, you obeyed eagerly, and basked in the attention of your girlfriend.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated once you’d parted, though you still clung to one another.

“Stupid~”

“So, I missed Christmas, huh?” Trying to lighten to mood, you grinned at her sheepishly. “Damn, and I was so excited about that gift.”

“Nothing can top what you’ve given me this year,” she replied, hugging you close to her. Confused, you made a noise.

“Christmas hasn’t passed yet?” you asked.

“Today is Christmas, ___,” Isane replied with a smile more radiant than the sun. As you gaped at her, she cradled your face in her hands again, and whispered “Merry Christmas…”

As the snow continued to fall, Isane closed her mouth over yours, and you shared in the affection between you. You were back, and Isane could hold you in her arms again, could kiss you again, could be with you again. It was by far the best Christmas ever.

#isane kotetsu #sfw #bleach imagines #bleach headcanons #bleach scenarios #bleach #cassie-steps #blameitonthebleach #i hope you guys enjoy!#like i said i'm going to try and have the holiday requests done by new year's eve #howevere my 21 birthday is on saturday #so i'll have to play it by ear honestly #merry belated christmas and happy holidays!

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astro-rain · 4 years

Text

delicate; b.barnes

chapter one - “to wakanda”

delicate masterlist

word count: 1,564

summary: reader works for what used to be shield as a highly skilled neuropsychologist. after the events in vienna involving the sokovia accords and a bombing, she gets an interesting request from friend and coworker sharon carter...a request involving none other than steve rogers and james barnes.

[A/N:] not my photo

warnings: brief & indirect mentions of abuse

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

"I don't know Sharon. Are you sure I'm really the right person for this? I'm not, like, an Avengers level tech. Are you sure they don't want a genius or someone like Stark to do it?"

"Well, Stark is pretty busy right now, and honestly, no one knows psych like you. Not who I've met anyway."

"That is so not true. I'm willing to bet there's tons of other people you guys got somewhere who are ten times what I am."

She leaned in, discretely, and whispered.

"...not to seem like a conspiracy theorist commie or anything, but it kinda seems like people are jumping to conclusions here. Are we even sure it was Barnes who set off the bomb?"

“That's what a reasonable person would think, but once again, I'm not in charge," Sharon shrugged. "Things would probably be going a lot smoother if I was, but you can't have everything."

(Y/N) cracked a smile. Sharon was a friend, and a good one too. They'd known each other since before SHIELD was shattered in 2014. In fact, Sharon helped train her.

(Y/N) was used to secrets around her all the time. She knew Sharon had her fair share, and trying to figure them out wouldn't really get her anywhere.

"Right. Okay. Well, I'll get on this then. Thanks, Agent Carter," she teased in late response to Sharon's 'Agent (Y/N).’

Sharon offered a quick smile before walking off to attend to other business.

- - -

"Fuck," she breathed after eons of silence.

- - -

"Jesus Christ," (Y/N) murmured, staring at her office floor as Sharon finished explaining to her what happened at the Leipzig Halle Airport.

"What is this? Fuckin' Avengers Fight Night?" she wondered aloud. "How many people did you say were there?"

"Twelve total," Sharon clarified. "Five with Stark and five with Steve."

The psychologist shook her head, dumbfounded. "How did it end?"

"Steve and Barnes got out, but everyone else with them were captured and sent to the Raft."

"The Raft?!" (Y/N) exclaimed. "That's for, like, super humans! Not people like Sam Wilson or Clint Barton!"

"You're telling me."

Sharon seemed in agreement with everything she was saying. However, there was something she couldn't quite place. Like she was holding back. But holding back what?

"So what of Rogers and Barnes?" (Y/N) pushed.

Sharon got up and closed the office door before returning to her seat, leaning in, and lowering her voice. This secretive woman, god damn it.

"Well... That's what I came to talk to you about."

Oh boy. She didn't have a semblance of a single idea of what to expect. Apparently Sharon noticed.

"We're the only ones that know this. They're fine..." the agent trailed off, "They're in Wakanda, but they need a little help."

They totally have a thing.

"Noted," said (Y/N) with a nod, "but why are you telling me this? Does he want the profile analysis or something? I don't see how he would need it if he's known Barnes for however long."

"Not exactly..." Sharon fidgeted with her hands. "We need you to go to Wakanda.”

#marvel #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky angst #mcu #steve rogers #sharon carter #captain america #bucky reader insert #bucky drabble #bucky headcanon #bucky blurb

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