#i would recognize that exhausted little face of someone who needs a raise anywhere | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

procyo9 · 11 months

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HOLY SHIT I DID IT!!!!!!! JFHEKJGHSKJHFDASHFGSDJK

ok now im getting anxious lol GOTTA GO

WHOLE THING CAN BE ALSO FOUND UNDER THE CUT!! LOVE Y'ALL

as always Crystal belongs to @quaddmgd :3

"Rogue I beg you, please anyone but Palmer? You know I-" "Listen, kid. You come to me asking for help, and I'm giving you help. If you think you're in a position to cherrypick who you 'like' to work with then you either grow up and go talk with Panam or leave." Elegy clenched her fists and stormed out of the booth, bumping shoulders with some stranger on the way out. She was so angry she felt like burning something down; why does it always end up like that? At this point she'll never get her street cred anywhere. She leaned against a wall, not feeling like going home empty-handed. She needed a drink - something to soothe her nerves and give her fuel to think. Elegy raised her sights to look for Claire, who was occupied with-- oh, it's that pretty girl.

She's been coming to Afterlife a lot lately and quickly got recognized among other solos as someone who should not be messed with. Many wanted to work with her, but she prefered working alone; she was an ex-nomad, after all. She probably had to learn to rely only on herself to survive without her family. To be honest, Elegy was a little jealous - she tried really hard to become independent but her ties kept a tight knot on her. No matter how good her skills were, she still was forced to rely on others to help her with matters she couldn't resolve on her own. It can be exhausting sometimes, asking for help - however stupid that sounds.

"Eh, don't worry C, Nix has his days. Afterlife is full of gonks that would pay you just to have a chance of working with you." "I just wish... He didn't need to be so harsh about that." The girl with colorful hair sipped the last of her liquor, soft expression present on her face. At this point Elegy caught herself staring, and she hid her face under her bangs. But did she hear right? Crystal needed Nix's help? Why would she- "Also, you know I prefer working with people who know their stuff. Can't let another gonk die on me," she played with her glass, turning the melting ice cubes inside left and right, much like Elegy's stomach at this moment. She wanted to scream 'I KNOW MY STUFF,' at the top of her lungs, but obviously that wouldn't work. She needed to approach her somehow. She had to.

***

"Heard you need help with some netrunnin'?" Suddenly the seat beside Crystal wasn't empty anymore, and her eyes met with black orbs radiating with confidence. "Did you listen in on us?" She shifted from a relaxed pose to a more stiff, ready-to-act one. Maybe it wasn't the best idea, but it worked! "Listen, Nix knows his shit and all, I get it. But to be honest? I can do anything he can - if not better - not counting the fact that I'm simply just a lot cooler to be around. You should ditch that old ex-corp, he and Rogue can go be pains in the ass together in that shitty booth of hers," Crystal's soft expression was long gone, replaced by way more annoyed and suspicious one. "Huh, you do gigs for Rogue?" "Sometimes. When she doesn't pair me up with assholes, that is." Elegy fiddled with her fingers, watching her hands; somehow her confidence began depleting, so she decided - it's now or never. "So, how about that - you help me, I help you." "Well, since you did listen in; what makes you think I'd just go and risk my life with a random gonk-" "You might wanna tune in and listen to the news then; rerun is about to start." Claire shouted from another end of the counter, serving drinks to a group of young mercs. Crystal's eyes shot back to the blue-haired gal, who just shrugged and turned her head to the TV.

The news lady began going on about the latest case of a corporation being targeted by a cyberterrorist known as The Plague; after their last attack, more than 2000 Biotechnica employees were stalled in their work. All employees on-site were found unconscious and poisoned, with no damage other than their security being compromised - there were traces of some top secret documents being stolen, which seemed more like a nasty joke left by the attacker rather than a slip-up. “The nasty joke being a dick. Drew it myself,” Elegy commented on the news, her hands intertwined behind the back of her head like some laid back anime character. All she got in response was a ‘I am still not convinced’ smirk, as Crystal went back to playing with her - now completely empty - glass. “They’re still clonin’ humans. Got all the evidence backed up on a shard, but got nobody I trust with it yet,” her expression was serious now, and she meant it. “They clone them, force them to think and feel, and then they experiment on them. Playing fucking god… No matter how helpful they were during the energy crisis and food industry, this is beyond fucked up.” "Holy shit,” a small chuckle escaped from Crystal, who seemed rather surprised by the sudden change of tone. “That really does sound fucked up. And you really pulled off something like that all by yourself?” “Well, can’t doubt Claire.” Elegy beamed a smile at the barkeep, who winked back while still working her beverage magic. ”They used to call me The Omen at first, it’s all silly really but still, that’s what I get for having a ‘signature move’ or whatever…” She began to ramble a bit, feeling the heat in her gut rising with every positive reaction she got out of her soon-to-be partner. “Hm. Okay. Tell me what’s up with that gig. I think we might work together quite well.” “...You mean it?” “Yep. So? Gimme something to work with!” “!! Okay, so there’s this new smart link prototype-”

***

“So if I help you steal that prototype for your Ashura, you’re gonna help me with cracking the security? That building is tight as shit you know-” “Yup! You won’t even have to lift a finger. In and out.” “And you need me because… You can’t drive a car?” “Yeah!” Her innocent smile was devastating in a way. Crystal couldn’t believe it at first, but it seemed that this girl was serious. “What the hell. Let’s do it. I’m Crystal, by the way.” She reached to the bubbly one next to her, with the intention of shaking her hand. Elegy returned the gesture with a little bit of hesitation, but quickly pushed all those feelings of doubt away - this was a time for celebration. “Elegy! You know, this calls for a toast. You ever tried David Martinez?”

#otp: nothing's gonna hurt you baby #.opk #elegy #crystal #cyberpunk 2077 #oc: elegy yukimura

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warmblanketwhump · 3 years

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flight plan

disclaimer: this takes place in pre-you-know-what times - if you’re actually sick, do not do what B does here. alright, on to the suffering :)

Back when B booked their flight, the 4 am boarding time and 2 layovers seemed like a great exchange for saving a few hundred dollars while flying across the country. But now, with a head that feels like it was stuffed with cotton, a gate change that forced their leadened body to trek across the entire airport, and an additional 3-hour delay before their final 4-hour flight, they were beginning to question their penny-pinching ways.

In a nearby terminal, a fussy infant screamed, and it took everything for B not to scream back at them: I hate it here too! Their nerves were frayed, their whole body ached to the bone, and their head felt like it was in a vise grip.

It hadn’t felt this bad this morning - heck, they wouldn’t have left if they’d felt this bad - but the changing cabin pressure and constant temperature shifts from hot, stuffy terminals to icy planes were wreaking havoc on their poor, rapidly sickening body. They’d been up for 18 hours. And now, they had no choice but to ride it out and power through the last leg. They hug the paper cup of tea they’d grabbed at a nearby cafe close to their chest, trying to hold back their frustrated tears.

They just wanted to be home.

B shifts on the hard terminal seat as they wrap up a third agonizing hour of waiting, willing the passengers ahead of them to board more quickly so they could just get home to A, who they’d been missing all week. But the miserable minutes ticked by, and B kept having to blow their tender nose with their precious (and dangerously dwindling) travel pack of tissues. As they massage their aching sinuses, B feels a tap on their shoulder. Turning, they recognize a fellow passenger from their previous flight extending another full pack their way.

“Here. You need these more than I do.” They extend the gift, and B gratefully accepts. The stranger nods, and heads back to their luggage to wait out the boarding process.

After what feels like an hour, B’s group is finally able to board the flight. From their boarding pass, they knew they’d be stuck in the middle seat, but their heart lifts a bit when they see their Kleenex-wielding savior in the aisle seat next to theirs, who waves and gives them a small smile as they let them through. On the window seat side, a sour-looking individual scans them up and down, raising an eyebrow when B coughs roughly in their elbow.

“Sorry…” B sniffles. The sour-faced person rolls their eyes and turns their attention to the window, and B shrinks in their seat, embarrassed.

“Just want to be home, right?” Their aisle friend smiles sympathetically, and B nods weakly. “I know the feeling. Name’s C.”

B introduces themselves, and the two make amicable small talk during the pre-flight checklist, finding out that they both called their destination city home. As the plane takes flight, B winces - the pressure change makes their head ache, and their sinuses feel like they’re going to explode, along with their ears. The dry air of the plane irritates their chapped nose, and they close their eyes and grip the armrest till their knuckles bleach, trying to breathe through the pain and praying it doesn't get worse.

It gets worse. On top of their pounding head and runny nose, B discovers like all the other planes, this one's an icebox. Once they reach cruising altitude, B apologetically shuffles by C to head to the bathroom, hoping that by some chance it’s warmer in there. In the dim light, B’s stares at their haggard reflection – their feverish eyes are glazed and watery, their raw nose is bright red, and their peaked face is wan and drawn, coated with a sheen of sweat. Hopefully A would still recognize them, they thought humorlessly.

The bathroom is just as frigid, and B’s stuck with a stream of lukewarm water that barely heats their cold hands. Back in their seat, the throbbing headache continues to build behind their eyes, and their throat desperately cries out for something to drink.

As if they could hear their thoughts, C leans over and pulls a small bottle of water from their personal bag. “The flight attendants came by with drinks while you were up - figured you could at least use some water.” B gratefully accepts and murmurs their thanks, and the cool water feels like heaven as they gulp it down.

After, B pulls the paper-thin flight blanket up to their chin - at this point, they didn’t care what the travel magazines said about how dirty they were. But it’s no use. The cold plane air sinks into their aching bones, and their body shivers to make up the difference. They close their eyes and wriggle around in the seat, trying to find a comfortable position that still allows them to curl up and get warm while exhaling as few germs as possible – and if there's any mercy at all, to fall unconscious for the next 3 and a half hours.

“Will you stop?” The window passenger glares at them. “It’s bad enough you brought your germs on here. But now you can’t even sit still?” Tears pricked at B's eyes - being sick always made them more sensitive - but before they can squeak out an apology, C leaps to their aid.

"Lay off," C snaps. "Can't you see they don't feel good?" The other passenger huffs indignantly, and presses closer to the wall of the plane. C's eyes don't leave them, and they stretch their hand out tentatively toward B. "May I?"

B nods, letting their eyes close, and C gently lays a cool hand across their forehead, clicking their tongue at the heat. "Well, I've definitely flown with healthier seatmates than you." B tries to laugh, but a cough seizes their lungs, and they double over to try and contain it as best they can as C gently rubs between their shoulder blades. When they finally catch their breath, they rest their head on their knees, exhausted from the exertion. From their prone position, B checks their watch. 3 hours and 26 minutes to go.

I'm going to die.

Slowly, B sits up and stiffly straightens their blanket with as little movement as possible. A draft floods their section of the plane, and B longingly eyes C’s unopened blanket tucked in the seat pocket, trying to quiet the incessant chatter of their teeth.

“You cold?” C frowns.

“Freezing,” they whimper through clenched teeth. “And I hurt all over and I just want to go home and I miss A and I’m so tired.” They didn’t mean to break down, but two twin tears slip from their eyes as they try to stop their lip from quivering.

C’s quiet for a moment, then stands to rustle around in the overhead compartment, and returns with a small bundle.

“Lean back,” C gently commands, and A obeys and closes their eyes. They’re immediately draped in warmth, and open their eyes to see a thick, fleece-lined jacket being tucked over them, along with a soft travel blanket over their legs. They try to protest, but C shushes them.

“Being sick is already miserable without being stuck in a tin can in the sky. Besides, these flight blankets suck." C gives B's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and B nearly melts at the touch.

“And look, if you don’t want to, it’s fine - you don’t know me - but you can use my shoulder if you want to try and catch some sleep.”

In any other moment B would be mortified, but they're so spent that they just nod weakly and surrender to the offer of comfort. C pulls their unused blanket out and folds it into a sort of pillow, clicking the armrest down between them, and B collapses onto them in a boneless heap. Sleep tugs at the edge of their vision, but there's one lingering question on their mind.

"C? Why....why are you helping me? You've been nothing but kind and you don't even know me."

C's quiet for a moment. "Last year, I tried to do the same thing you're doing – power through an 8-hour flight home with a blossoming case of pneumonia. Cough, chills, headache, the works. About 2 hours in, I was about ready to jump out of the plane." They chuckle lightly, but B hears the wistful note in their voice. "It was absolutely miserable, and all I wanted was someone to hold my hand and tell me it’d be okay.”

C turns to look at B. "But nobody did. Not a single soul. So I vowed that if ever I found myself in a position someday to help somebody home, I’d do it.”

The words are so achingly comforting and desperately sad, so soft and generous and B feels like they should say something, affirm that yes, helping a random sick passenger was damn close to sainthood. But instead, sleep wins over, and they nestle closer to C as they tumble into a soft, dreamless sleep.

it feels like they’re asleep for minutes, but when C nudges them gently, they realize that they’re descending. They’re home.

The wheels skid on the runway, and the journey off the plane is a blur of sound and color and too-bright lights. B is only vaguely aware of C’s arm around their waist, guiding them through the crowd and to the baggage claim area. They must have told C which suitcase is theirs, because they blink twice and it magically appears at their feet.

“C’mon now, B. Almost there.” C gently guides them forward, and B wills themselves to power through the final few minutes.

“Do you see A anywhere?” C asks, squinting through the crowd of people. B can barely focus their eyes, and they’re losing hope, when all of a sudden - they see them. A. Holding a small paper sign with B’s name and a stuffed animal with a small red heart in their arms, waving wildly. They’re beaming, but the smile falls from their face as they see what condition B’s in.

“B - what happened? Are you okay?” B can barely whisper A’s name, and A pulls them into a hug, gently whispering reassurances, that they’re home and safe.

“Bit of a rough flight, but B hung in there,” C smiles, passing B’s suitcase to A. “They’re not feeling too hot, but I think they’ll make it.”

Suddenly, B releases A and stumbles back to C, throwing their arms around them. C’s thrown off balance by the strength of the hug, but manage to compose themselves and pat them gently on the back.

“Thank you,” B whispers. “So much.”

C blushes. “It was nothing. Just don’t forget to pay it forward.”

B squeezes tighter. “You deserved help. You still do.” C says nothing, just swallows tightly, and B feels C’s arms tighten ever so briefly around their waist.

A rush of dizziness floods B, and C gently guides them back to A’s waiting arms, before handing A a scrap of paper. “Listen, it’s none of my business - but can you give me a call in a couple days, just so I know they’re feeling better?”

A takes the scrap and smiles. “Absolutely. It’s the least I can do to thank you for keeping old B from falling apart in public.” B grunts indignantly, almost asleep again, and A strokes their hair and smiles.

They make it back to the car, and A manages to maneuver a limp B into the passenger seat, tucking them in and cranking the heat on their side. B blinks their eyes open and smiles guilelessly. “Go home now?”

A smiles and presses a soft kiss to their forehead. “Yes, love. We’re going home now.”

#fever whump #sickfic #whump prompt #hurt comfort #caretaking #whump on a plane #PLANE WHUMP EVERYONE #FINALLY #this really took a turn I was not expecting when I set out to write this #BUT ITS DONE #also there is most certainly space for a part 2 👀

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finaledenialist · 3 years

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okay eveyone please stop yelling at me in the tags that you want to sue me for therapy money, here, quick, grab a happy ending (also yes, i am shamelessly tagging you @lobotomycastiel because this is all your fault:

When the Empty spits him out he doesn't know where he is or what year it is. He looks around and well, this is certainly Earth and it's still existing

There is nothing for you back there.

But he has no clue how much time has passed. He looks around. It seems to be a field in the middle of nowhere. In the distance he sees a bunch of trees. They look like they are slowly changing colours, they are not bright red yet but the browns and yellows are already showing; the sun is warm and birght but the temperature is not what could be described as hot. It's early autumn.

There is nothing for you back there.

He shakes the words echoing in his mind and starts walking towards the slowly setting sun in search of a road. After a couple of miles he finds it but there are no cars, there is nothing but the silence of a lazy evening, and he is worried. No cars on the road doesn't immediately mean that it has been years, he thinks, maybe it's just one of those long forgotten roads that lead to nowhere, one of those he ended up on when he had to leave the bunker. It's been hours until he hitched a ride back then, maybe this was a similar case.

He walked until the night fell, and then he just kept on walking, because what else was he suposed to do, finding comfort in the fact that at least the world still somehow existed. But how many years it has been? He put one foot in front of the other in total darkness and suddenly he noticed a shadow. It was definitely his shadow, and the night was starless, moon hidden safely behind the clouds; but if there was a shadow then there also had to be... A light?

He turned around and he let out the deepest sight of relief when he saw two front lights of a car driving in his direction. He stood there, wonderstruck. That's how Noah must heave felt like when he saw the returning dove, carrying an olive branch after days with no sight of land, he thought as he waved at the driver.

This time he catches a ride much sooner than the last time, but he doesn't want to think about it. The car looks old, but normal-old, he saw these kind of cars before, the radio plays a song he vaguely remembers, but he's too afraid to ask the driver what year is it; it would make things weird and he needs this ride more than anything. He navigates his way through the small talk, yeah, I just got lost in the woods, yes just take me to the nearest town and I got it from there, please and thank you so much for your kindness, he adds. The driver is an older man who looks tired and they spend the rest of the ride in silence.

He doesn't know the town’s name but he notices a phone booth, hidden in the alley; it's dark but the booth's light shines like a beacon and he feels like he found an oasis on a desert. He has no money, but there is a sticker that has the town's name written on it, along with some emergency numbers. It also says that if you press the correct combination of zeroes and hashes you might get a chance to call someone and that person would be charged for the call. So at least that problem is solved.

But what if

there is nothing for you back there?

He wants to call Dean. He wants to more than anything, but he ends up staring at the numbers and not daring to make the call. What if no one answers, what if they are all long dead and gone? What if the only thing he hears is silence? There is a little screen next to the keyboard that tells the hour, it's almost 2 a.m., and despite claiming that he is already saved to the Empty's face just hours ago, he feels completely lost.

It's 3:24 a.m., when he finally taps Dean's number on the old, worn out keyboard, desperately clutches onto the phone, closes his eyes and fucking prays.

There is signal.

And after the third one, there is also an answer.

After he manages to tell Dean where he is and that yes, I am fine, I am somehow, again, back, he hangs up and he just breaks. He steps out of the booth, breathes in the cold autumn air that smells like rain and dirt, and starts to cry. He didn't mean to, he wasn't supposed to feel anything that deeply, he wasn't supposed to feel anything at all, really, but he feels, he feels like the crushing weight on his back was just lifted, disappeared, and now all he has to do is just wait and then, then everything will be okay. He looks at the starless sky and the tears just run down his cheeks freely, because he was given yet another chance, undeserved and probably one-too-many, but that didn't matter, because he was alive, and Dean and Sam were alive and that's all that mattered.

He heard the approaching car before he saw the shadows casted by the impala's lights on the pavement. He would recognize the sound anywhere; after all he spent a lot of hours in that car, in the passenger seat, in the backseat...

He took another breath and quickly wiped his face with his sleeves. When he heard the car's door opening, he slowly turned around and saw them. Dean and Sam. Dean looking at him like he was witnessing a revelation and the shock on Sam's face. They looked just like he remembered them. Maybe that much time didn't pass after all.

'How long was I gone?', he manages to ask.

'Too damn long', Dean answers immediately and Sam's jaw drops.

'I don't know what to say', Sam says, and the little smile starts to make it's way on his face.

'I do', Dean says and takes a step, and then the second one, towards Cas, and suddenly Dean holds him, embraces him, like that one time in Purgatory years ago. 'I missed you so damn much, Cas', Dean's whisper is meant only for the two of them.

Suddenly there is a cry. A child's cry. Dean makes a step back and looks at Cas. He looks exhausted, Cas judges by the bags under Dean's eyes, but Dean smiles, the widest smile Cas has ever seen and says:

'We have a child to raise, Cas.'

It's Thursday and everything is alright again.

#baby jack truthing #widower arc #here here it's okay guys enough of this angst

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amerrierworld · 3 years

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Take the Silence Away

for the request: Lou Miller helping fem!reader with her depression

Summary: You thought you’d be home alone to deal with your feelings, so when Lou arrives, you’re worried you’ve screwed up entirely.

Characters: Lou x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: mention of depresssssionnnnn, mental health issues, general sadness and whatnot, self-degrading talk

Nobody ever talks about when the lowest points hit on the brightest days. But you were getting quite acquainted with the concept.

The windows were open, you could hear car honks and children laughing. The sun was shining directly on your face. There was a smell of spring in the air and you should have felt absolutely fine. The day could not have looked more perfect if you looked outside.

But Lou was forced to cancel your lunch date, and somehow that had you crumbling where you stood. You couldn’t remember the reason; it didn’t matter. She wasn’t coming today. You knew she didn’t have a choice, and weren’t mad at her. You were mad at yourself, for reacting the way you did.

Wearing your cutest, most attractive dress, hair done up and makeup flawless. You really should go and change. But you couldn’t get up out of the bed that you had collapsed in when you had finished your phone call.

Was it really all that bad? No, seemingly not so. But your brain didn’t quite agree with that.

Tears had smeared your mascara half an hour ago. An hour before that your hair had slipped from its stylings. You had been starving for lunch with Lou, but you hadn’t budged to eat at all since.

Were you weak? Weak for getting so despaired when one good thing fell out of place? Was there something else you should have been paying attention to?

It didn’t matter, you decided. Nothing mattered, right? Nothing but numbness. It was something you were accustomed to.

There were birds chirping close to your window, and it made you turn your head only slightly, but you were too late to see what birds. You caught a wing flapping before they disappeared, and sighed in exhaustion. Missed that too.

You don’t know how long you stayed in bed like that. Did the phone ring? The front door? You didn’t notice if it did.

Your eyelashes felt crusty from the dried tears and makeup and it irritated your skin. You aggressively rubbed your eye until it was sore and blurry, and your fingers came away with smudged makeup. Oh right, you were wearing makeup.

The ceiling really wasn’t that entertaining. Maybe you should get out of bed, put on your pj’s and just crawl back in bed. Or sleep in the bathtub- the couch? Heck, the floor would be just fine. You deserved it, you were sure..

The sound of the front door opening caught you by surprise, but you didn’t budge. An intruder? Good. Let them take what they want, you couldn’t be bothered anyway-

“Guess who?” a voice called out.

Your head shot up. You tensed your body like you wanted to leap out of bed at the sound of Lou’s voice- oh it would be nice to see her, right?

But no, you looked like a mess. Fuck. There were footsteps approaching, she always knew where to find you. You wouldn’t have time to fix yourself, not this time.

You sat up and rubbed a little harder at your eyes, knowing it wouldn’t do anything to hide the puffiness and smeared eyeshadow. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. You didn’t want her to see you like this-

The door creaked open and you rushed to sit, perched on the edge of the bed, forcing a smile.

“Guess who got us dinner?” Lou was grinning, holding a few plastic bags. You could smell the takeout where you were sitting, and your stomach grumbled.

The sight of her made your heart burst. She looked impeccable- her hair swept by the wind, looking rosy-cheeked from the bike ride. Her shoes were off, and she was wearing a pair of ugly, disgustingly coloured socks. Socks you recognized that you bought her as a joke, because it never would have gone with her fashion sense, but that she wore anyways. You felt yourself choke up.

“Hey, baby. Everything all right?” her voice was riddled with concern, and your stomach dropped with dread. You hated making others worried, hated to see them sad, hated-

“Yup. I- uh, fell asleep,” you said. “Guess it was a good idea to cancel lunch.”

You let out a huff of dry laughter, but Lou wasn’t having any of it. She put the takeout bags on the ground, and disappeared into the closet. You sat there, startled for a moment, and wondering what she was doing.

She came out in a fuzzy cow-print onesie, and had another zebra-print onesie in hand. There was a clear intention in her eyes, and you would’ve ran out the room if you had had the energy.

“You are not making me wear that,” you laughed incredulously. They were kept in the back because neither of you ever wore them, until now. Her eyebrow raised and with lightning speed, she was on top of you, making you shriek.

“Lou! Lou, oh my god, what are you-” you burst out in a fit of giggles as she tickled your sides, flailing your limbs. She managed to worm the bottom half of the onesie onto your body. You wheezed with laughter, out of breath.

“Okay, okay okay.” You finally relented, letting her take off your dress and zip up the cozy onesie all the way. She tugged the hood over your head, letting your zebra ears flop and you rolled your eyes, smiling.

Then she leapt off the bed and grabbed the take out. She precariously balanced it on the bed before sitting on it, and tugging you to sit in her lap, legs intertwined.

Without another word, she kept you in that position as she passed you your takeout box, the familiar, amazing smell of your favourite meal making you light up. She rubbed a hand along your leg without another word as you dug in, realizing how hungry you were, and that Lou somehow had managed to order the one thing that got you eating.

You ate in silence for a little while, sitting in Lou’s lap in your cozy outfits. Though it was quiet, there was calm, and you actually found it quite relaxing.

“Do you wanna talk about anything?” Lou eventually asked, mouth full of food. You stilled, looking down at your plate. Your fingers began trembling a bit.

“I-” You hesitated. But then, Lou’s hand wrapped around yours and she squeezed firmly.

So you let it all out. Your stresses, your fears, your numbness. Halfway through, Lou was blinking back tears, and so were you. When you could no longer form coherent words and were choking out sobs and half syllables, Lou wrapped her arms around you tightly and tugged you close. Eventually she slowly fell back onto the mattress, with you holding on like a small koala bear.

“If you’re worried that now you’ve scared me off, don’t be,” she eventually said, once you sobs had subsided somewhat. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your throat was hoarse and dried up, and you buried your nose in her neck. “You have every reason to leave me.”

“That’s not true.”

She nudged you until you pulled back to look her in the eyes. “I have every reason to stay. If you’ll let me. And talk to me about things, when they get bad?”

You could have saved both of you from so much turmoil right at this moment. Now that she knew, you could send her away with a good reason; that your emotions were not up to par, that she didn’t deserve this.

But your heart ached with love. And you wanted her so desperately, in every way. Even when you were numb, Lou was a sweet, calming reminder of everything you needed to go after when things got dark.

And you nodded, promising something you never thought you had the strength to do. To be open with someone. Lou smiled, kissed your cheek, and pulled you even tighter. Your full belly and exhausted tears easily sent you into a deep sleep, with her rubbing your back and keeping you warm.

A/N: brb crying

@ the anon who asked for this i hope everything is going alright in your life, i hope this helps, i hope you will find ways to help yourself and realize how worthy you are to enjoy this wonderful thing called fuckin’ LIFE <3 (and that goes for alllll of you who are reading this too okay)

#lou miller #lou x reader #lou x you #lou #ocean's eight #oceans 8 #ocean's 8 #cate blanchett #cate blanchett x reader #lou miller x reader #reader insert #merry writes #wlw

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ilikemesometaetaes · 3 years

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Forbearance

Kim Seokjin Oneshot

•••> Author: @ilikemesometaetaes

•••> Summary: Give him a break, okay? Finding out his girlfriend’s bias wasn’t him is a pretty hard hit to the man’s ego. He has a right to be a little... possessive.

•••> Pairing(s): Seokjin/Reader

•••> Requested by Anon: “Hey love, I was wondering if I could request a oneshot where the reader is dating Seokjin, but he accidentally finds her old fangirl stuff and discovers he wasnt her bias and jhope was? And ya know he gets all jealous and possessive;) btw I love youu”

•••> Word Count: 4.41k [Unedited]

•••> Rating: 18+

•••> Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), forced orgasms, oversensitivity, dirty talk, our jin is a jealous boy, possessive!jin, idol!jin, cursing, alcohol use

Thank you for the request, anon! I thought it was just going to be a drabble, but I guess not! I hope you enjoy :)

~#~

Seokjin called for you from your old bedroom, feeling insecure about going through the things in your closet.

“It’s okay, babe! It should be in there somewhere!” You yelled back, obviously busying yourself with tonight’s dinner before you moved your stuff into your boyfriend’s home.

Seokjin’s lips spread into a tight line, clearly uncomfortable with the action of prying into your life before you met him. He was never one to judge character nor the one to actively seek out every detail about you. He respected your privacy and your boundaries enough to never ask, waiting until you were the one speaking about it.

It was what sparked the relationship between you two in the first place. A respect for privacy and the skill of having patience.

You had met him at a fishing beach; the sun was almost fully set and it seemed that Kim Seokjin needed some time away from the boys and the spotlight.

You were sitting in a camping chair, waiting for the telltale signs of a fish nipping at your line when you noticed the man walking over to the next open slot of shore rocks just five yards to your right.

Conversation was minimal, but being in a setting where patience was what kept a person sane meant that you were fully capable of waiting.

It was strange how you hadn’t noticed it was him. Of course, he wore a mask and sunglasses along with a baseball cap, but Kim Seokjin’s personality was seemingly unique and quite noticeable. The man who sat next to you was someone completely different.

He was quiet, patient, reserved, and outright plain. After a short conversation with him about how the fish were biting that day, you understood that the man went there for quiet- same as you. So you gave it to him.

You just couldn’t help but notice that he continued to sit next to you for the days to come. He would come out every other day or so and sit next to you, regardless of the amount of spots available around. You would talk about the weather affecting the fish, ponder over the current position of the moon to judge the tide, and then resume the silence. It was almost as if you were basking in each other’s quiet presence.

His voice, a familiar tone of inflection, was evasive. It seemed as if he was purposely lowering his voice to distort it, but you could never bring yourself to ask why. Instead, you settled on listening to him speak as his beautiful brown eyes cast a wistful gaze into the bay.

From what you could see, he was handsome. You could see his eyes when he took off his sunglasses at night and the occasional tuft of hair that stuck out from under his ball cap. His shoulders were incredibly broad, stretching every jacket and sweatshirt he wore almost to the extreme.

He sat in his chair like he had run a marathon, slouching so far that his long legs were almost entirely off of the seat. It looked as if the man was dreadfully exhausted.

Light conversation seemed to pick him up from his slump but you didn’t want to press too far, knowing that the man was undoubtedly hiding his identity. You were okay with this, practicing the patience you had learned from fishing throughout your everyday life.

Each time you spoke, the conversation slowly got further and further. The day that you got to talking about what he did for the day, you learned that he lived an active and busy lifestyle. He came to fish for the calm and relaxation- a break away from it.

After a little over a month of meeting with the man to enjoy the silence, he disappeared.

You never got a name; never got an age; you knew next to nothing about him.

You continued to show up in your usual spot, hating when someone else sat where he would, but you couldn’t be rude and tell them to move.

You weren’t going to stop your hobby of fishing just because he did, but it seemed as though your reason for going to fish had shifted. You had gone expecting to see him walk up with his tackle box and fishing rod at his usual time. You only found yourself disappointed when he didn’t.

Several months passed with no sign of your mystery man. Eventually, you had forgotten about him, his presence a mere, fleeting thought whenever you looked at his old spot.

The day he returned, he was almost unrecognizable under the light of the moon.

The cool spring weather had morphed into hot summer evenings and transitioned to chilly, late-summer-early-fall nights while he was absent. Instead of the basic black street clothes of the usual fashion that the young men of Korea wore, he was dressed professionally and warm.

A long, beige peacoat hung from his shoulders in a way that the width of the shoulder seams did not stretch and, instead, looked perfectly fitted as the length fell to his knees. He wore a black turtleneck that was tucked into black skinny jeans, secured into place by a brown belt with a pair of brown leather dress shoes to match.

He didn’t even wear a hat, revealing his light brown hair. All that remained of his old style was the black mask that he wore to cover his face.

The man held no tackle box in his hand; a cooler hung from his fingers and a camping chair was nudged under his arm. In the place of his fishing rod in the other hand was a small bouquet of flowers.

“Oh, thank god.” He breathed. “You’re still here.”

“Of course I’m still here.” You chuckled. “I’ve been coming here for years.”

He sat as you spoke, repeating the same actions with his chair as you had pictured him doing countless times in the past months. Your fishing buddy was finally back and looking as handsome as ever.

“Have you?” He huffed as he sat back in his chair. “I only just found out about this place back in April. It’s quite nice.”

“Yes, it is.” You agreed, turning your gaze to watch the lights from the nearby city reflect off the surface of the water. He wasn’t changing his voice anymore and you couldn’t help but recognize it immediately.

For a moment, you processed his presence- he was actually here. Then, you turned to him again with your eyes trained on the cluster of yellow flowers sat atop his small cooler, attempting to keep your cool.

“What’s the occasion?”

“A celebration of friendship.” He laughed to himself as he grabbed the bouquet and raised it to you, avoiding your gaze.

“A friendship?” You asked, taking them from his grasp and looking down at them. “These are very pretty. Thank you.”

“I figured it’s been a while since we met and you seem to be incredibly kind, so why not be friends?”

“I don’t mean to be rude- I’m totally cool with being friends with you- but I don’t even know your name.” You laughed, hoping that this would finally be the day he revealed himself.

“I’ll only tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“Easy.” You laughed. “My name is Y/N.”

“Please don’t... freak out or anything...” He muttered, raising his hand to take his mask off his face. Your heart beat wildly in anticipation.

As soon as he peeled the loop from his ear, your mouth slightly fell open on its own accord and you were suddenly starstruck by the fact that Kim Seokjin sat next to you.

“My name is Seokjin.” He kept his gaze lowered as if he was ashamed of his identity.

“I’m a huge fan.” You were speaking impulsively, unable to think about your words with the beautiful man so close to you. What else could you say?

“Oh, are you?” He asked, slowly lifting his gaze to meet your own.

“I am. It is very nice to meet you, Seokjin.” You were keeping yourself under control and you had no idea how, practically vibrating in your chair.

“And it’s nice to meet you too, Y/N.” Reaching into his cooler, he plucked out a bottle of soju and two shot glasses. “Care to share a drink over our newfound friendship?”

Grateful for the distraction, you took one of the glasses. “I’d love to.”

Your friendship with the idol bloomed. Under the strict condition that you never told anyone of your meeting spot- not that you wanted to or anything- you and Seokjin would continue to meet up on occasion and fish, sharing a drink or two and learning about each other.

When he found out about your love for his own band, he laughed and teased you for being a fangirl. When he continued to show up after the revelation, it exhumed ultimate trust that you couldn’t resist returning.

The other strict condition of your friendship was that you couldn’t meet anywhere but the beach. Six months of seeing the man you were gradually falling for in one spot became exhausting, but you couldn’t complain. Sure, you couldn’t go out for coffee or see a movie because of the fact that there were eyes everywhere, but you were okay with having your own little secluded paradise away from society.

It seemed that patience wasn’t one of Seokjin’s better traits, because even he came to complain about hanging out with you anywhere away from the brackish water.

One signed confidentiality agreement and an established set of rules later and he was being sneakily rushed into your already open front door so that the neighbors wouldn’t see him. It sort of reminded you of your younger days when you were sneaking a boy in so that your parents wouldn’t catch you.

His schedule wouldn’t allow you to see him more than two times a week, but it allowed for the two of you to retain a certain level of privacy that taught him more patience. Despite the lack of consistency, each time he came to see you sent butterflies into your stomach and a need to grow closer.

It only took a month of him visiting you before the media began getting suspicious of Jin’s whereabouts. His disappearances from his home to undisclosed locations drove the world into speculation of a solo career or a new music video- or a woman.

The more the rumors ran around, the less you saw of your friend.

It was hard to be apart from Seokjin, fully aware of the fact that you were falling for him. The idea that he could possibly have feelings for you was next to impossible to believe; all you were to him was a break away from the fame and cameras. Even as he rest his head on your shoulder with an arm around your waist while you watched a movie from your couch, you found it hard to believe there was a possibility for more.

You had the world in your embrace. How could you possibly ask for more?

A year of being friends with Seokjin proved to be the ultimate trial to test your patience. You never stepped out of line, hardly ever let yourself dream of being with him, but always imagined what it would feel like to press your lips to his gorgeously plump ones.

To say you passed the test was a decently literal way of putting it.

Exactly one year and two months of knowing Kim Seokjin, not including when he was a nameless man who you sat with, was all it took for him to start showing signs of more.

You sat in your usual spots on the beach, drinking soju, when he turned to you and asked if you ever thought of dating him.

“All the time.” You blurted in response, cursing under your breath immediately afterwards at your lack of hesitation.

Instead of responding, Seokjin burst out laughing. He tipped his head back and guffawed to the night sky but all you could do was laugh cautiously with him in confusion. Worry raised in your heart at the chance that you finally crossed the line even as you swooned over his endearing laugh.

“What are you laughing at?” You built up the courage to ask after he calmed a bit.

“I promise you that I am not laughing at you. I’m actually laughing at myself.” He wiped a building tear from the corner of his eye.

“Why?” You asked.

Instead of responding to your question, he turned to you with all hints of joking wiped clean by the serious expression on his face.

“Do you want to date me?”

You stopped breathing for a moment at his question, heart seemingly skipping a beat and fingers gripping your chair tightly in disbelief.

“W-what?” You stuttered.

“Please let me know if I’ve crossed the line, but would you like to go on a date with me?” He grabbed your hand in his and held it close to his body. Even in the cold weather, his hands were as warm as ever.

Kim Seokjin thought he was crossing the line? He thought he was shooting his shot to someone he had a minor possibility of dating? Being patient couldn’t have been more rewarding than in that moment.

“I’d love to.” You smiled.

Of course, the media was all over your first date with the man.

Even from inside the fancy restaurant you sat in, you could see the camera flashes from across the room in your secluded corner. Seokjn simply waved them off and continued to sip on his wine, telling you to pretend that they weren’t there.

For you, the pressure was intense. The entire world sat on your shoulders as they tried to scare you away from the man you loved.

Despite the harsh scrutiny and the offensive comments, your time of waiting on Seokjin had thickened your skin and reinforced your resolve. Your ultimate test of patience left you with a sense of serenity in the tense world.

You could wait for the attacks to die down. You could be patient- Kim Seokjin was worth it.

As time went on, people cared less and less about your relationship after realizing that you weren’t going anywhere. You had predicted as much.

To celebrate your two-year anniversary together, your boyfriend finally asked you to move in with him.

He was nervous, to say the least. Seokjin wanted you to live with him because he found your apartment to be quite small- it was about time to give you more.

Now, two days after the proposal to move in- on his free weekend- he was helping you move out of your apartment.

Everything was going smoothly, as he expected, up until the moment you told him to go into your closet and grab the box of clothes you had set aside to donate.

He wasn’t expecting to find a small box stuffed into the back of your closet with BTS in large sparkly letters decorating the top. After he pulled it out and dusted it off, he opened it to find photocards and trinkets of his brother, Hoseok.

Gingerly, he dipped his fingers into the box and pulled out a tiny, pink pouch that perked his interest- Seokjin never faired well with fighting his curiosity of material things.

Pulling out the small chain, he let a grimace riddle his features whilst he surveyed the six silver letters of Hoseok’s name adorning it.

“Oh.” He heard from behind him, causing him to jump and quickly drop the pouch and bracelet back into the open box in his lap. “So you found those.”

“What is all this?” He asked while gesturing to said box, an ugly inferno of jealousy beginning to curl inside his stomach and snake its way up his throat. All Seokjin could think about was the fact that Hoseok was your bias and not him. Sure, he never asked, but you could have at least told him that he had competition.

“I- uh-“ You stuttered. Your hesitation to answer warranted him to stand and approach you with an eyebrow cocked and a storm brewing in his eyes.

“Am I just a ploy to get to him?” Seokjin’s anger was obvious, yet you couldn’t help the lick of excitement as he became possessive over you- a trait you rarely saw on the man.

“No!” You were quick to answer his question, closing the space between the two of you to grab his hands in your own. “Babe, I swear! Those are from years ago! Before I met any of you!”

Although Seokjin knew that you were telling the truth, he still seethed in response and let his jealousy show. You seemed to like the jealous side of him, so he decided to maximize his advantages of the situation. It was also hard to ignore that he was growing slightly uncomfortable in his pants.

“Then why do you still have them?”

“Because my friend made them for me and they’re special!” You defended, wanting him to hold your hands. His fingers wrapped around yours tightly and pulled you so that your body was flush against his. You were left to stare up at his towering frame.

“Well,” He chuckled, letting go of your hands and bending down to throw you over his shoulder. You squealed in surprise but he only growled and smacked you on the ass with so much force that you yelped out in pain.

Seokjin threw you down on your tiny bed and you looked up at him in anticipation when you noticed the sly smile thinning his plump lips. He leaned down, placing a knee between your legs, as his gaze locked with yours.

“I’ll give you something fucking special, J-hope stan.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the nickname, bringing your arms up to wrap around your shoulders as he pecked you on the lips and trailed his lips down the side of your neck.

Once he placed a kiss on top of your clothed nipple, Seokjin wasted no time in lifting your shirt over your chest to press his tongue and lips against you. You sighed, letting your eyes flutter closed as you tipped your head back and let him work over your areola.

“Does Hobi know how sensitive you are here?” He asked, licking your nipple immediately after. He brought his thumb to the other one as he kissed it again. “Would he even figure it out?”

Instead of answering, you threaded your fingers into his hair blindly, wrapping your legs around his waist while he lowered his mouth further down your body. The notion left you quaking in its wake.

His nose feathered down your stomach while he whispered his next question.

“Does he know how soft your skin is?” Seokjin pressed his lips to the skin of your waist and you craned your head up to look down at him, catching his gaze promptly. Seeing his lips against your skin had your legs pressing against his sides even tighter. “Would he even appreciate it?”

He backed up and pulled your underwear and shorts down your legs to bare your pussy to him, not wanting to tease you at all. He was on a mission and you wouldn’t stop him.

By the time he got his face between your legs, you were already spasming and dripping.

Your boyfriend looked at you with a smirk on his lips. “Could he get you this wet?”

His tongue pushed between your folds and flattened to rub against your clit to lap up once with a groan building in his chest before he pulled away. “Would he even taste you?”

You whimpered, dependent on Seokjin for pleasure as he pressed his tongue on your clit and slid two fingers into your depths to scissor you open. For a good minute, he pumped his two fingers into you and shoved his tongue onto your bundle of nerves as if trying to completely lick it off your body.

Your first orgasm was sharp and intense, causing you to cry out and dig your fingers into your boyfriend’s scalp. He pulled his lips away from you for a moment to look up at your heaving body.

“Could he even find how sensitive you are right-“ He brushed his fingers against the spot that had your mind reeling. “-here? Could he make you feel good? How would he even begin to try?”

The oversensitivity had your senses dulling and your lips babbling. “He wouldn’t. God, Jin. He wouldn’t.”

He continued to sink his fingers into you, harshly laving over your clit with his tongue in between his words as if he were fucking you already.

“You just-” Slurp. “-taste like-” Suck. “-fucking candy, baby.” You gasped at the loss of contact and squealed every time he returned his tongue and covered you with his plump lips to wildly swirl the hot muscle into you.

Being forced into more orgasms wasn’t new for you, however, it was always on his dick that you sobbed your way through countless climaxes. The pleasure of being pushed over the edge by his tongue was completely new and unabashedly erotic.

You screamed and writhed against Seokjin’s hand splayed possessively over your stomach, trying to get away from the contact but helplessly struggling against him. One after the other, you were painfully shoved into cumming, but it’s only when you squirted onto his chin that he finally let up.

“I bet he couldn’t make you squirt like that.” He darkly chuckled.

You, sweaty and breathless, lay under him with a bead of drool beginning to collect at the corner of your mouth. Mindlessly, you affirmed his statement.

“He couldn’t. He couldn’t.” It was almost as if you were chanting now.

“You’re damn right, he couldn’t.” Seokjin stood on his knees and quickly pulled his jeans down just enough for his dick to pop out before eagerly settling himself between your shaky legs once more.

Pussy raw and throbbing, you needed him to fill you properly to balance out the sensitivity on your clit. It was almost painful.

“This pussy is mine.” Seokjin grabbed his dick and looked down to slap his tip against your clit repeatedly. Your legs jerked in result, body responsive to the slightest touch on your nub. “You’re all mine.”

“Jin,” You whimpered. “Please.”

“I know, baby. I know. Be patient.” And he slid in slowly.

You dug your nails into his shoulders and threw your head back into the pillow again. The pleasure was blinding and you tensed your entire body at the sensation of him stretching out your insides.

“He could never know how tight you are.” Seokjin grit his teeth as he bottomed out. “How fucking warm-” You gasped and your eyes rolled back as he nudged his hips to try pushing himself further inside you, succeeding in dipping slightly deeper into your walls and crowding himself against your womb almost uncomfortably. “-you are.”

At this point, all you could do was sob in confirmation. “He couldn’t.”

“I’m not gonna lie.” He pulled out and thrust into you once, then twice, and then paused while heaving above you. “You got me all worked up with how cute you sound so I won’t last very long. I’m going to need you to cum one more time. Can you do that for me, love?”

You nodded almost immediately, knowing that all he needed to do was toy with your clit to send you over the edge.

With a harsh beat, your lover ferociously fucked into you and grabbed one of your thighs to widen your legs. With each clap of his skin into yours, you let out a small huff while he literally fucked the air from your lungs.

“Cum, baby. Cum right now.” He strained.

“I-” You cried, holding onto him for dear life as you desperately needed that last nudge to send you hurtling towards ecstasy. “I can’t. I n-need-“

“Hobi can’t fuck you like this, Y/N. Can’t fill you up and make you scream like I can. But you can’t cum for me?” He smashed his swollen lips onto yours and messily pushed his tongue into your mouth. When he pulled away, a string of saliva connected the two of you. “What do you need, baby? What do you need me to do?”

Your clit practically screamed for attention from your prior orgasms, but you were too focused on not actually crying to tell him. Instead, you snaked your hand down your body towards yourself and Seokjin followed your trail down to where your bodies joined, noticing immediately how swollen and red your clit was. His expression softened in realization.

“Oh, does my girl need her pussy touched?” He crooned roughly.

You nodded feverishly, sniffling.

“Okay, love. I’ll touch.” And he did.

Your orgasm was almost instantaneous. Your body, battered and exhausted, trembled as it seized up to accept his thrust for the last time that evening. In all its pain and bliss, your climax was glorious.

“Oh fuckfuckfuckfuck-” Seokjin growled as he dropped his head to the crook of your neck. “Squeezing me all tight like that. You’d never squeeze Hobi like that.”

Even through your pleasure, you felt him clutch onto you tightly, slowing his thrusts and sinking himself deeply to empty his release into you.

“That’s my girl.” He groaned after he stilled, slumping against you. For a moment, the two of you breathed and relaxed in each other’s presence.

You chuckled, turning your head to kiss his head. “That was pretty hot, babe.”

His head shot up from your shoulder immediately. “Not at all! How could you stan Hobi and not me?”

“Babe, I was so much younger. Of course, the one who is a literal ball of sunshine was my bias. You can’t get enough of Hobi.”

“But I’m your boyfriend…” His eyebrows turned up at you and pouted all the while his dick still lay wedged between your legs. Slowly, you pushed him off of you so that you could go clean up.

As you stood, you walked to the bathroom and laughed again. “Yes, you are.”

Even as you were walking away, you heard him mutter under his breath.

“Hobi would never walk away from me like that.”

All you could do was giggle at his statement, knowing that he would eventually get over it.

Kim Seokjin was the one you loved. Who was Jung Hoseok?

~#~

If you’d like to read more of my work, feel free to check out my Masterlist!

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elfwoodfae · 3 years

Text

Writing’s On the Wall Harrison Eo Wells x reader.

Chapter 2- Specter.

Author’s note: I am so happy and excited for this new series. I hope sincerely that you all like it and let me know your thoughts, this new series will touch on darker themes up ahead in the future. Also tumblr is being annoying with the paragraphs that’s why they are so far apart.

I made this moodboard. I looked up and searched the photos and edited them. I don’t mind if you use it.

Part 1 (here)

A strange calmness falls over him; he turns around, opening his eyes for the first time in hours. He feels exhausted, having spend the majority of the night observing you. He chastises himself, he shouldn’t have done that, there was no other option, he reminds himself, he is desperate and frustrated. The sudden reminder of your presence this early in the morning angers him, a growl escaping his mouth as he sits up, the white linens of the bed pooling around his hips as he rubs his face with one hand, turning his head and doing a double take at the door, making sure is locked, he knows he locked it last night but the paranoia your presence has brought him makes him second guess himself.

His feet touch the floor first, he stretches his arms over his head, moaning at the relief it offers, his white shirt riding up enough to expose a gleam of milky skin; his hair is a mess of black curls, the expression looking back at him thorough the mirror is annoyed, tired, he splashes water on his face, he needs to wake up. The shadow of a beard is starting to appear on his chin, along his jaw and cheeks, he closes his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck and sighting before gripping the sink in a moment of fury where he wishes he could rip it out of the wall and throw it, shattering it into pieces.

How hard could it be to get rid of you? It wouldn’t be hard at all, it would be done before you could even draw your next breath, it would bring him more pleasure than beating Allen, but the consequences would be devastating, his rational side reminded him, there was not possible way to free himself from the torture of your existence without dooming his. Had Joe not met you things would have been different but he could see as clear as day the picture waiting back for him at the lab. Barry most likely knows about you by now, he knows there will be questions once he gets there, they will be innocent in nature but they will only serve to cement your presence into his mind.

He looks at himself in the mirror, admiring every detail of his clothes before he turns around, spotting his chair exactly where he had left it last night; he walks to it, looking at it so intently as if his gaze alone could burn it, hating the thing he punishes himself with. It’s for a greater good, he remembers. Wheeling into the main area of the house he notices all the lights are still off, he takes solace onto the fact that you are still sleeping, freeing him from your presence even if he knows it will only be for a few hours. He decides to leave, not wanting to take the chance of you deciding to appear and tag along, he doesn’t think of himself capable enough to not pull a Brutus a gut you in the middle of the day. This are also the only quiet moments he will get to think, to work on his suit, he sighs, there is so little time for him to use even when he is always alone.

The room is unfamiliar to your eyes, the bed linens are soft, warm, they smell of fresh cotton and clean clothes, it takes a moment for your memories to return, reminding you where you are. The room is dark, the curtains successfully blocking any sunlight from peaking in, there is no telling the time as you look around trying to get at least a sense of how rested you are. The clock reads sometime after 8, Harrison has more likely left by now and a slight disappointment settles over you, you wanted to see the labs, maybe he will want to take you tomorrow. The bathroom is spacious, glass doors decorating the shower as a black marble vanity rest on the wall, its too big for one person, it feels too luxurious for a guest room. Your mind reminds you of a forgotten fact, Harrison was never a showoff kind of person, he liked his house to feel welcoming and cozy, completely opposite to this place.

Walking out of the room is impossible not to notice the eerie silence that accompanies you, all the lights are off but the sun seems to illuminate the whole place through the skylight. A feeling of anxiety settles in your stomach as your eyes scan the expanse of the room, a corridor shielding doors you haven’t explored yet calls to you, maybe it would be best to wait for him to come back and show you around. You look around once again, scanning the walls and every available surface, your brows furrowing once a detail settles into you that you hadn’t taken into account the previous day; there is not even a single photo of Tess or himself anywhere. Maybe he has them in his room, or perhaps in his office, you think, the anxiety of walking into his space long forgotten, replaced with curiosity.

With fast steps you make it to the first door, its unlocked. The wood doesn’t creak when you open it and you wish it had, any sound would be better than this silence. Peaking your head inside, rows of shelfs of books welcome you, a dark desk sits in the middle, random papers and pieces discarded around it, nothing you would be able to recognize. A leather chair sits behind it and for a moment you wonder what could he need it for? Scanning the surface for any photos, any memories of Tess you could find but is empty, not even a photo of her in any of the walls.

Moving along you walk to the last room, the one on the end of the hall; opening the door, the room is dark, no light peaking into it, the bedsheets are a dark grey, almost black, nothing is out of order, a smell that could only be described as a freshly shaved man and clean clothes hits you, its pleasant, fresh. There is once again no photos to be seen, you should turn around, walk back and continue with your day but curiosity gets the best of you; the walking closet is big, rows of clothes hanging, color coordinated and perfectly ironed. A mirror from floor to ceiling adorning the wall in front of you. Walking closer to his clothes you grab the sleeve of one of his expensive white shirts, wanting to feel the softness of it, you don’t recall ever seeing him wearing one. Out of impulse you bring it to your nose, clothing your eyes as the smell of his cologne hits you, causing a blush to rise up your cheeks; he probable sprays it on himself here, impregnating everything around him.

Abandoning his room you walk into the kitchen, there is so many things about him you wish you knew, things that have probably changed and things that you don’t remember. He seems so distant, so cold, so unavailable to you, it made you wonder why he had allowed you to stay with him, perhaps it was not you, it was your attachment, the last piece of her memory he had, you were like an heirloom, one he refused to throw away, and that realization made you sad.

He didn’t seem happy, he seemed lonely, used to being by himself, making you question if he had any friends, if there was anyone caring for him. The man you remembered was always accompanied, always surrounded by people, always kind, always loving; where had that man disappear? You wondered, remembering how he hadn’t even known who you were once he picked up the phone that night, but what could you expected? You had never reached out, staying like a ghost, gone and hidden from his life.

Sighting you shake your head, forcing these thoughts to abandon you, having had enough of their torment for a day, there are things after all to be do today. Her face attacks your memory, you remember her from the times Tess and Harrison had brought her over, Christina is her name, she was close to Harrison and she had been very close to Tess, urging the obligation of a visit in you the moment you had decided to visit Central City, certain guilt at staying so out of touch to both of them fills you.

Perhaps you should have called her office before hand, you think, she is a busy woman after all, but after a few name drops from her past her assistant informs you that she will see you shortly. The door opens to the conference room she asked you to wait at, her face haven’t changed, a few wrinkles here and there, but the same determine eyes started back at you.

“Y/n” she says your name, surprise lace in her voice, she seems excited to see you. She hugs you, before commenting how much you have changed since she last saw you approximately fifteen years ago.

“I am so glad you could see me, I’m so sorry I never reached out, is just after the death of Tess so many things changed.” You begin, feeling the sting of tears coming to her at the emotion of relieving those memories, at being so close to someone that knew her.

“I’m surprise Harrison didn’t mention that I was visiting, I assumed you both were close friends.” You say nonchalantly, catching in the way her face contract, she seems uncomfortable at the mention of his name.

“Well yes we were.” She says, taking in a breath before continuing.

“You see, after the accident Harrison and I fell out of touch.” She says, seemingly leaving it at that, but curiosity is a powerful feeling, pulling its strings inside of you, forcing you to ask.

“Oh, but don’t you both keep any contact at all?” The question seems innocent, you genuinely want to know. She understands that, concern for you raising in her as she decides to open up more to you.

“I’ll be honest with you y/n, after the accident Harrison changed so much, that loving, caring man disappeared, he became cold, calculating, manipulative. I understand how grieve can change a person, but he, is like he is not even the same person anymore.” She tells you and you get the feeling she is not speaking in a metaphorical way.

You decide to confide her in your worries of him, in your confusion when he didn’t know who you were, when he didn’t even recognize your name. You can see the concern raising in her eyes, at you being alone with a man neither of you know any longer, but you assure her is fine, you will be fine, how bad could he be? He wouldn’t hurt you, this was Harrison you both are talking about, even if neither of you believe it completely.

@twilightlover2007

@austarus

@harrisonwellsisdaddy

@wintersire

@reallystressedhoneybee

@fanfiction-and-fantasies

@saltykidcreation

@dumpeetintofyre

@yetanotherwells

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peaceisadirtyword · 3 years

Text

Fate (Ivar/Reader)

A/N: Hello!🥰 As I said here’s the first fic I wrote about season 6B. I already loved Ivar but his evolution during this last season made me love him even more (I didn’t know that was possible). And I was dying to write for him (I even have a series planned, but I’ll wait until I’ve finished Move On and maybe Hate to post it.

This one will only have 2 parts, next one will be posted maybe tomorrow! I really hope you like it, and that I have captured this “new Ivar” well enough! And, of course, this contains spoilers for season 6B!! so if you haven’t seen it yet don’t read it!😅

I was going to post this one earlier this week but I had a pretty big exam today and I was exhausted. So next part will be posted maybe tomorrow or on Sunday!☺️

Also, thanks to @ivarhoegh for reading this before and telling me her opinion🥺🙏🏻 I hope y’all like it and enjoy the reading, thank you!

Warnings: mentions of sex, alcohol and violence, Ivar might be a bit out of character, my bad writing (?) not much!

Words: 3459

gif belongs to @therealcalicali

You knew he'd be back. The Ragnarssons would always go back to Kattegat. For some reason, you had the feeling he would be back soon and not with the Rus.

A single boat, a Rus boat, which meant he didn't betray them or escaped from Kiev. Hvitserk came with him, of course, that made you smile softly. Hvitserk would always go back to him because he loved his little brother but didn't even know it.

People booed, spat and yelled insults at them as you watched, silently, standing at the end of the crowd and rolling your eyes at the insults. You knew they'd be laughing and toasting while yelling their names very soon, as they always did with their father.

Ivar had changed. He looked much more calmed, not so tense nor ready to attack to the first person that angered him. He had a huge scar on his angelic face, you frowned at it, angry at whoever dared to hurt his beautiful features. He had changed a lot. Of course, you had seen him at the battle against the Rus, but then you ran away from him, not even thinking about trying to fight him.

You watched as Erik lead them to the Great Hall, where, you supposed, they'd meet King Harald.

"Fucking traitors" someone spat next to you, making you raise an eyebrow and turn around to look at him "We should kill them and leave their bodies to the wolves"

"Now that's no way to speak about the sons of Ragnar, is it, Einar?" You bit your lip to hold back a smile.

"Their father would do it if he was here" he scoffed "They betrayed us all"

Sighing, you started walking back to your little house, not far from the Great Hall. Seeing him again had been maybe too much, and you needed some time to yourself.

Einar stopped you, though, taking your arm.

"Will I see you tonight?" He licked his lips. You frowned softly, not really in the mood to see him. Some days ago, you'd said yes, opened the door to your house for him and then have sex until you passed out, but now Ivar was back and that changed everything.

"I'm tired" you smiled apologetically at him "Maybe some other day"

Einar sighed, but nodded. He was an asshole sometimes, but at least he respected you.

Inside of your house, you started the fire on the fireplace to warm the house a bit as you took off your clothes. You had no intention of going back outside, so you'd eat something and get into bed. With some luck, you'd get some sleep.

A part of you wanted to think you'd never see Ivar again. Even if it hurt, after seeing him every single day since you were both kids, it would have helped to forget him, but then again... Would you ever forget him? Not even so much time apart, since he left Kattegat when Björn took it until he came back to Norway with the rus army, had made you forget him. In fact, you'd swear your feelings were stronger than ever.

But it was exhausting. To search for those ocean eyes, wishing and praying to have them look back at you even if it was for a second, to go to sleep thinking about him and wake up thinking his face was the first thing you wanted to see. You had always been there, looking at him when everyone else looked at his brothers, fighting alongside him to avenge his father, conquering York with him, and going back home with your king, he always was your king.

Your parents were always worried about your unhealthy obsession with the youngest Ragnarsson. At first, they thought it was only a stupid crush, but as you kept growing and your feelings didn't disappear, they realized it was serious.

Then you heard that Ivar had sex with Margrethe, that pretty slave that had his older brothers pursuing her, and you were so devastated that you searched for comfort anywhere. And you found it on his brother Hvitserk's arms.

You never regretted losing your virginity to Hvitserk, he was a good lover even if he didn't really remember your name the day after.

Your parents left Kattegat when Lagertha was queen, disagreeing with the way she killed the former queen, Aslaug, Ivar's mother. You know how much he loved his mother, how close they were, and your heart ached for him as he lost both his parents at the same time.

So you joined the army and sailed to England to avenge Ragnar. Always fighting by his side, always watching his surroundings, killing every single person that dared to get close to him. And learning that, like his brother, he'd never remember your name, because he was a prince, a son of Ragnar Lothbrok, fated to be a legend like half of his family was, and you were just a girl, the daughter of a seamstress and a warrior that learnt to fight for her prince knowing she would never become his princess.

Then he became king, and took a queen. You still remembered how much it hurt to see him looking at her like that, how broken your heart was when he announced he'd marry her, and that they would have a child. You tried to hate Freydis, but you couldn't hate someone who made him that happy. You didn't want him suffering the same way you did for him. Ivar was special, and he deserved to be loved and happy.

You could have left, escape Kattegat and never look back, but you couldn't. And it broke your heart when he did leave.

Now he was back, and you were still the young girl in love that would fight an entire army of Christians for him.

_______________________________________

King Harald was throwing a feast. It surprised you, as you didn't think the king would be so keen to throw a feast for Ivar the Boneless, former king and the source of most of his headaches.

You wore a dark red dress your mother had sent to you, with your hair barely braided and some kohl on your eyes. You never dressed for men, you couldn't care less about men's opinion about you, but you found yourself wondering if Ivar would notice you. It was like going back to being sixteen, trying to catch his attention without him knowing you were trying.

It had been a long time since you stepped into the Great Hall for the first time. You didn't really attend the feasts when Björn was king, you were somewhat angry at him, at his family and his men. They were the reason Ivar left.

And you probably wouldn't have attended this feast if you hadn't known for sure he would be there.

He sat on king Harald's table, with Hvitserk sitting at the opposite side of him. The king, his wife and Erik sat facing the crowd. It was a weird feast, people didn't sit down and many chose to eat while standing. It was also awfully quiet, and everyone eyed the main table suspiciously, as if they were waiting for Ivar to stab king Harald at any second. It wouldn't have surprised you if he did.

Einar drank horn after horn of ale next to you. Sometimes, he'd stop laughing with his friends and mutter some insults to the Ragnarssons, but not too loud. Not even Einar was foolish enough to insult the Ragnarssons in public, especially Ivar.

You hadn't said a word. It felt familiar to stay silent, drinking and eating quietly and sneaking glances to Ivar sometimes as you had done your whole life. He had changed a lot, you could see he wasn't as defensive as before, his eyes didn't scan the room expecting to find someone laughing at him. But even if he was surrounded by people that probably would love to cut his throat and throw his body into the sea, he looked relaxed, making small talk with the king sometimes, as if he had everything under control.

Suddenly, everything went quiet. Ivar looked at the crowd for the first time, his hands rubbed his lips as everyone stared at him and his brother. He could feel the resentment on their eyes and, for a moment, his eyes fixed on you.

His eyes widened softly when he recognized you, but you looked away before you could see it, directing your glance to King Harald, who stood on his feet looking sternly at his people.

A fake smile curved Harald's lips as he walked closer to the crowd. You barely listened to him, even if you kept your eyes on him, almost afraid of letting them wander around to find Ivar again.

"Ivar regrets the way he ruled here" Harald pointed at him. Ivar didn't even try to look ashamed, looking directly to his brother. Neither him nor Hvitserk seemed to understand Harald's game "He was young, the responsibilities were too great, and he forgot the lessons of his father"

You raised an eyebrow. Ivar had lost his mind for a woman while ruling, something his father had done too. Men could pretend to be all powerful and great, but women had the true power, the power to make them do unimaginable things out of love and obsession.

"And his brother, Hvitserk, he never meant to kill Lagertha" Harald continued "How could he ever mean to kill such a goddess?"

Hvitserk never meant to kill her, that was true. You had been the witness to his illness, you had lost the count of how many times you found him, all drunk, drugged and wandering around Kattegat. You gave him food, but he never accepted your help more than that. He wasn't himself when he killed Lagertha, but he never regretted it.

"They are who they are" Harald kept talking "But they are also sons of Ragnar"

Ivar looked at the people again, this time with a defying glare on his face, nearly asking who would dare to try and kick him out of his own home.

"I don't trust them" Einar clenched his jaw, and you felt his grip on your waist. He was half drunk and that gave him a false feeling of courage. Ivar heard him, and he narrowed his eyes.

Then someone stood up. A man, whom you had seen drinking maybe too much ale, was standing bravely, looking at Ivar.

"So tell us, Ivar, is it true you are a God, like you told us?"

You tensed up, and gasped when Ivar stood up. Everyone was silent, looking at him. He walked until he reached the middle of the room, and he threw his crutch to the floor.

You closed your eyes, not wanting to see him collapse on the floor. You heard him fall. And suddenly everyone was laughing. You opened your eyes to see him laughing too.

Just like that, he won their trust again. The music started playing, and the mood in the room shifted quickly. Ivar was still on the floor, looking proud of what he just did, and letting his eyes wander around the room. He found you again, and this time you held his gaze.

__________________________________________

It was hot inside. Einar had reached the point of groping you, trying to make you sit on his lap to lift your dress. You managed to wiggle out of his grip and made your way out of the Great Hall. It was overwhelming, especially after all the tension of knowing Ivar was back. You barely slept the night before, and you weren't feeling like celebrating, what exactly would you celebrate? That you would be back to being the stupid little girl obsessed with a prince that wouldn't look at her twice.

There was a couple of drunk men yelling and laughing when you walked down the streets of Kattegat while trying to get home. Hail Ivar, they yelled, making you raise an eyebrow. They were Einar's friends, and they had been cursing the name of both brothers a few hours ago. Men.

But as you continued walking, your head throbbing from all the ale you had drank, a voice startled you.

"I know you"

You froze. You knew that voice very well, but had never heard it directed to you.

Ivar was half hidden inside one of the barns. There was a torch next to him, and the dim light made him look even more handsome. You raised an eyebrow, and it took all of your willpower not to start running.

"You know me?" You cleared your throat.

"Yes" he pressed his lips together "You're Y/N, aren't you? You're a shieldmaiden"

He knew your name. The fucking Ivar Ragnarsson knew your name.

"Yes" you walked closer to him, trying not to stare at him too much. His crutch was leant against the wall next to him, and he had a wooden stick on his hands, in which he carved patterns with one of his knives "And you're Ivar"

He smirked at you. It made your knees weak.

"We fought together, didn't we?" His soft voice was like velvet, it was like a gentle caress when you were about to fall asleep "In England, I remember seeing you fight in York"

You nodded. He tilted his head curiously, his ocean eyes looking you up and down. Those eyes you had always dreamt of.

"I saw you on the Great Hall and I was surprised, I barely know anyone here anymore" he frowned, looking around "It felt nice to see a familiar face"

"What are you doing here?" You blurted out. You didn't want to be rude nor make him uncomfortable, and immediately you bit your tongue.

Ivar smirked again.

"You mean here in a barn or in Kattegat?" He chuckled.

"Both" you frowned.

"I was feeling a bit overwhelmed in there" he shrugged "I needed some air and I needed to be alone for a bit... And, to be honest, I don't know why I am in Kattegat, I just needed somewhere to go, but it doesn't feel like home anymore" he looked at you in the eyes. It was so intense that you had to look away after a few seconds.

You nodded softly.

"I'm glad you're back" you muttered. Ivar tilted his head with curiosity.

"Did I kill any member of your family? Should I be careful in case you're planning to stab me?"

It was the first time you smiled in front of him.

"No, if you had killed someone I loved, I would have stabbed you long ago"

He sighed, nodding his head.

"Fair enough"

"You did break my heart, though" you whispered, approaching him to lean your back onto the wooden wall next to him. Ivar narrowed his eyes, confused, but didn't say anything.

"I just remember you were a really good fighter" he shrugged "And that you slept with my brother once"

That surprised you. You looked at him, flustered.

"I..."

"I wasn't... I wasn't spying on you or anything" he chuckled "I just saw you sneaking out of Hvitserk's room, I was sitting on the throne"

"So I made a great first impression, didn't I?"

Ivar smiled. A genuine smile, not a smirk, a real smile.

"It wasn't the first impression, I had seen you training more than once, and I saw you when you came with your mother to see mine, I remember she made her dresses"

Your lips parted in surprise. So Ivar did see you. You always thought he never paid attention to you, that he didn't know of your existence. Knowing you were wrong made you feel a strange warmth on your chest. It was nice.

"You've changed" you pointed out in a soft voice. He had changed a lot, the Ivar you knew was very different to the one standing next to you. But it was a nice change. You liked it.

"Everyone says that" he raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe because it's true"

He shrugged, and his eyes went back to the piece of wood on his hands.

"Why didn't you stay with the Rus? Why risk everything coming here?"

"Did Harald pay you to ask me all of this?" He laughed.

"No" you bit your lip to hold back a smile "I'm just curious"

He looked at you again, with the ghost of a smile on his lips. His eyes shone under the dim light of the torch, and you felt the need to lean in to kiss his pouty lips.

"I learnt a lot in Kiev" he muttered "I understood many things, and I met people that marked me forever" his voice had so much emotion that you wondered if he was talking about a woman "But my destiny isn't there, and I had to move forward"

"So where is it? Your destiny" your eyes lightened up with curiosity.

"I don't have a clue" he raised an eyebrow, smiling at you softly "I figured I'd come back to where I started, trusting the Gods would tell me what should I do"

"Have you heard from them yet?" You giggled.

"No, not yet" he chuckled.

"Give them time" you shrugged "You're a favorite of the Gods, Ivar Ragnarsson, they'll guide you"

Ivar looked surprised, and turned his head to look at you a bit better. He remembered seeing you around Kattegat when he was young. Once, after you had been in the Great Hall to give Aslaug a new dress your mother had finished for her, he had told his brothers he thought you were pretty. They teased him for days. He felt a small tug on his heart remembering the playful banter and the teasing.

He had seen you look at him. At first it annoyed him, thinking you stared at him because of his legs, but then he caught you staring at him more than once the same way the girls stared at his brothers. It helped with his self-esteem, more than he'd ever admit.

"What about you?" He shook his head. Any feelings you might have had for him were in the past, he was sure, he'd seen you with a man in the Great Hall.

"I'm afraid my life isn't as interesting as yours" you giggled "I haven't left Kattegat"

"I know very well that things can happen without leaving Kattegat" he raised an eyebrow.

"I just keep training, and sometimes I go to raids" you shrugged "And I work around here... Not much"

Ivar's eyes flicked back to yours, interested.

"No husband, no children?"

You let out a laugh, shaking your head.

"No one finds me interesting enough to marry me" you sighed "And children? I can barely take care of myself"

"I find you interesting" he muttered, and for a moment you thought you hadn't heard him right "I mean" he cleared his throat, chuckling "I'm glad to see you're well"

"Thank you, I'm glad to see you're..." You frown, looking at the scars on his face, that seem rather new "Alive"

Ivar hummed, nodding when he realized you looked at his scar.

"Thank my dear brother for this" he scoffed. You smiled at him.

"You probably deserved it"

He looked at you, surprised, but nodded softly.

"Yeah, I kind of deserved it"

Ivar the Boneless admitting he had done something wrong? Wow, you didn't know what had happened while he was with the Rus, but that was a huge change.

Ivar turned to look at you when he heard you giggling. He liked you, he felt at ease with you. He felt like he didn't need to impress you, as you knew him too well already, but also didn't seem to be angry or afraid at him like the rest of Kattegat.

His eyes hypnotized you again, they were even more beautiful from up close.

Without realizing it, you leant into him. Ivar's eyes twinkled as he understood your intentions, and you'd swear he leant into you too.

"Y/N!" Einar's scream startled you. Ivar turned his head to glare at the drunk man that stumbled down the street, with eyes half closed and looking around "Where are you?"

You leant back with a sigh. You had forgotten about Einar and how needy he was when drunk. Ivar raised an eyebrow at you, and you took a deep breath, visibly embarrassed.

"He's... Einar" you groaned "I should go and make sure he gets home"

Ivar nodded slowly.

"It was nice talking to you then"

"Same" you gave him your widest smile. Your first conversation with Ivar Ragnarsson had been very different from what you had imagined, but also better.

"Good night, Y/N" he smirked.

"Good night, Ivar"

_________________________________________

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Okay I hope I didn’t forget anyone :( Tumblr doesn't send me notifications and sometimes the asks don’t even appear on my inbox💔 so please if I didn’t add you to the taglist tell me!

#ivar the boneless #ivar imagine #ivar x reader #vikings #vikings imagine

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diavolosthots · 3 years

Text

DARK DECEPTION CHAPTER 19

READ CHAPTER 18 HERE

Warnings: flashbacks to the previous chapter, mentions of injury and death

Pairing(s): Lucifer x reader, michael, the brothers, Barbatos

Loud… everything was so loud. There was shuffling and the clinging of metal. There were too many people, too many voices both which he recognized and which he didn’t. His eyes couldn’t open and everything hurt, he wasn't going to lie, but his pride also didn’t allow him to actually groan out in pain, or, at least not very loudly. People were touching him, he could feel them. They worked on his wings and for a moment, he was so out of it, he about attacked someone for touching him in the first place, but then he remembered. He remembered nearly everything. The pain, the breaking of Diavolo’s wings right beneath him and then the head in his hands. He remembered the pure rage that filled him, and he remembered Satan. He’s still not sure how the fourth born did this, binding them back together. Lucifer hadn’t felt that kind of anger, that kind of power, since the celestial war, and he never thought he would feel it again, either. “Satan….” His eyes slowly opened as worry settled into his mind, and he had to blink a few times in order to focus on the picture in front of him.

A soft hand, a gentle touch, cupped his cheek and Lucifer leaned into it. It felt familiar and comforting; it felt like you. He turned his head a bit, groaning when the pain rushed through him and right now, he wasn’t trying to hide it. “(Y/N)....” his mouth felt dry, his throat and voice hoarse. It felt as if there were sand stuck in his throat and talking hurt more than anything, well, almost. Tears were streaming down your face and he could tell that you had been crying for longer than you would ever willingly admit to him. One of his hands was held firmly by yours, the other one still cupping his cheek. “Lucifer…” it was a sob, a noise of relief, and if he wasn’t so bandaged up right now, you could throw yourself at him. “I was so worried….” You were. After Lucifer left, you begged Michael to let you run after him, or at least that he ran after him, but the angel locked you in that room. You had no idea what was going on and paced the space until your feet hurt. It felt like eternity to you until Michael finally returned and decided to bring you down, “it’s not pretty…” and it wasn’t.

You remember seeing the bodies. You didn’t know what happened, at all. Some demons were still fighting with each other, others were on the ground. You found Beelzebub first, who was all scratched up and beaten, but still standing which you deemed as good. Belphegor was with him too so at least you knew those two were fine. “Where is he?” But neither of them had an answer. You found Asmo with Mammon and Levi and you almost screamed when you saw the very open, very gaping, very bloody wound in Levi’s abdomen, barely held together by Mammon and Asmo. Mammon’s leg was broken, very clearly so, but nothing he wouldn’t survive. And for some reason Asmo, although exhausted, still looked good. Levi worried you though and you doubted he was even conscious anymore, “get…. Get him to the house… clean the wound…. Asmo, please…” but you didn’t know if they ever made it, not at that point at least. And then Satan… his golden hair stood out and you ran over there as quickly as you can. He was face down and right beside him was Lucifer, holding onto his hand. Neither of them reacted to you and you freaked out, screaming for Michael who you hoped was still there.

And that’s how you ended up here. Michael had carried Lucifer to the house, ordering some angels down to help the rest of the brothers. For a very long time, Michael worked on Lucifer’s wings, barely speaking to you or anyone for that matter, and if he said anything at all, it was mumbled, almost as if he was embarrassed, or ashamed. Beelzebub stayed the whole time and Belphegor and Asmodeus made their own little nests in Lucifer’s room, watching over the eldest as the five of you hoped for the best. “I was so worried…. You didn’t wake up….” Lucifer could hear your pain and it pained him more than any physical pain he felt at the moment. “I… I made a promise…. I didn’t intend on breaking it…” he forced a soft grin, although it truly did nothing but hurt him; it was worth it. You laughed softly, letting yourself fall onto him as you hugged him tightly. Pain shot through him and he groaned loudly, carefully lifting his hands to place them on your back and he wished he could hold you tighter.

“I’m sorry… Darling…” you shook your head, quickly pulling back to look at him. “No I am… I’m sorry for not fighting… I’m sorry for going with him…” A hand was placed on your shoulder and you quickly turned your head, seeing Michael look down at you, “it’s not your fault little one.” the angel looked at you for another moment before looking at Lucifer, “you have a lot to clean up, Lucifer, but my task here is done. You should heal just fine, as should everyone else. Don’t forget your promise to me…. But I will take my leave now.” You looked confused at Lucifer and then back at Michael, “promise?” but the angel only smiled, stroking gently through your hair, “don’t worry, child. It’s nothing bad. Take care of him, hm?” And then, in the blink of an eye, Michael was gone. Lucifer smiled softly, still, although the confusion was written everywhere on your face, “don’t worry….” “What did you promise him?!” You were freaking out. A promise? Made by Lucifer? To Michael? This can’t be good. Lucifer’s hand reached out slowly to grasp yours again as he swallowed thickly, “I promised… to mend our relationship… to try again…” and he hated making that promise, but for you he would do anything, including putting his pride aside and forgiving Michael.

The words rung in your ears and you know you understood them, but you couldn’t believe them. Fresh tears spilled over as you nodded at him, looking at Beel and Belphegor on the other end of the room, and then at Asmo who took it upon himself to give you some tissues, “thank you….” Lucifer nodded, closing his eyes again, “my brothers… they’re okay…?” Asmo laughed softly behind you and nodded eagerly, “yeah… Michael brought some of his cute friends with him… they stitched everyone up.” Belphegor walked up on the other side of the bed and held up his bandaged arm, “they were pretty nice…. Levi is making it, too, and Satan just needed some rest. He slept almost as long as you.” Lucifer turned his head toward Belphegor, raising an eyebrow, “how long was I sleeping, as you put it?” “About a week.” It was Beelzebub who spoke. Lucifer’s eyes went wide and he almost immediately went to sit up, groaning loudly when his wings hurt him and he felt the pressure of your hand pushing him back down, “oh no…. You’re not going anywhere! Your wings are taking forever to heal. You had a few broken ribs too and it’ll take a while, even with Michael’s help.”

God, he hated this. He feels useless right now. “The house is still standing…. Seems like you three didn’t do too bad.” Belphegor rolled his eyes, walking over to the door, “there he is. Lucifer is back everyone, we can leave now.” It made you laugh, genuinely, and it’s nice to see that nothing can truly ever keep Lucifer away. When Belphegor opens the door, though, he gets interrupted by Satan pushing Mammon, who’s sitting in a wheelchair, in through the door, and Levi kind of wobbling after them, “Lucifer! I knew you would make it!” You smiled at the rest of them and then looked back at Lucifer, who seems like his usual self, “is this a family meeting now? I’m glad to see you all alive. “ Especially Levi. For a while, he didn’t think the third born would make it, but his eyes actually ended up falling on Satan, “what was that?” The blond smiled smugly at him before shrugging, “it was more of a theory than anything until I tried it… but I figured since I was made from your anger, maybe you needed that anger in order to win… I didn’t think it would work so well, though.”

“Are ya kiddin’ me?! Ya knocked the whole Devildom out!” Mammon wasn’t even exaggerating. The wave that pushed through everyone was immense and none of them ever felt anything like that. “It was amazing!” You were confused, looking between Mammon, Satan, and then back at Lucifer, who only shook his head. “No worries…. It just helped us win…” He sighed softly, closing his eyes again and holding your hand tightly, “I still need rest but… do whatever you six want for a while.. Just make sure the house is still standing for when I can walk again.” “well… actually..” Levi started and the way his tone sounded, it didn’t make Lucifer too happy so he opened his eyes again and glared at the third born, “Leviathan I swear…” but the otaku shook his head, “there’s something you need to know….” not another war, please. Please don’t let it be another war. Leviathan stepped aside, letting Barbatos enter the room. The servant was smiling as always, his hands folded behind his back.

“Glad to see you alive and well, My Lord.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #asmodeus obey me #obey me scenarios #barbatos obey me #belphegor obey me #mammon obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #beelzebub obey me #dark deception #tw injuries #michael obey me

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bleufrost · 3 years

Text

Guiding Light

Summary: Even though your team finally trusts Loki enough to give him a chance, you still have to help him realize he's not the monster he sometimes thinks he is.

a/n: this is within the same universe as There's Just Time but it can also be read as a standalone (: more notes at the end for anyone who wants to read them!

Words: 1,921

Warnings: angst, self doubt, theres also fluff so dont worry!

If we come back and we're broken Unworthy and ashamed Give us something to believe in And you know we'll go your way

You never really realize how loud everything is until Loki cuts you off from his energy. Now, that isn't to say that Loki leads a tranquil existence, it's actually quite the opposite. Loki's emotions are incredibly sporadic and loud; so loud in fact, that they have become nearly identical in nature to the crashing of waves against the shore. Deafening, yet with the promise of calm once you come to recognize it as home. Without the roar, everything you’d rather drown out comes back to the forefront of your mind. That is exactly what is happening right now.

Tony’s bubbling anxiety to get his hands on something new clashes with the forced control of Bruce’s psyche as you enter the lab. The opposing energies nearly incapacitate you. “Hey, have you guys seen Loki?” You sit next to Bruce, your focus on his hands as he moves some things around on a screen. It’s a lame attempt to center yourself, but it helps a bit when a drill sparks to life in Tony’s hands. Bruce smiles at you apologetically and you shake your head.

“What’s that, kiddo?” Tony’s voice barely registers over the monotonous sound of the drill and you try to signal for him to turn it off, but the attempt is in vain. Instead of continuing to scream, you wait it out until Tony finally seems to be finishing up. The drill powers down and he smiles at you in that way that only he can; as though he truly believes that the world can wait for him. You can’t exactly blame him, you did wait, didn’t you?

“Okay, what’s up?” He places the drill down and brushes his hands off on his pants.

“I was just wondering if you’ve seen Loki around?” He looks to Bruce and they both seem to mutually agree that they haven’t. Tony shrugs at you.

“Sorry, kid. No Reindeer Games around here.” You roll your eyes at the nickname and he lets out a loud laugh. “Okay, thanks.” Getting up, you exit the lab and head for the common room.

It takes a few more tries, and by the time someone finally tells you they spotted him, your head is racing. There are so many different emotions and waves of energy in so limited a space, it exhausts you. Often you found navigating it all to be a fun game, but that was only when you had an anchor. Unfortunately, your anchor seems to be a little lost at sea.

When you do find Loki, he’s staring out a large window on one of the top floors of the compound. There’s a book abandoned in his lap, his finger resting on the page as though he had drifted mid sentence. The bright sky reflects on his eyes in a beautiful show of light. Anchors and waves, you knew Loki was all of it to you.

“Hey.” It comes out as only a whisper as you approach him slowly. It’s so soft, you almost doubt he hears it at all. Of course, he does though. He’s a god and, with great pain, you also know that he’s very used to being on his guard.

Loki’s eyes move from the clouds above and over to you. You’re not sure if the lights are playing tricks on you, but you swear that there are small hints of unshed tears in his crystal eyes.

“Hello.” If you thought your voice was soft, Loki’s is hardly there at all. It shakes ever so slightly at the end of the word, and if his shielding emotions wasn’t a dead giveaway, his demeanor most definitely is. Something’s wrong.

Your feet take slow, tentative steps forward. Neither one of you breaks eye contact, and when you attempt to push your energy over to him as some form of comfort, it hits a wall. He’s using his own magic to deliberately block yours from reaching him. Your feet stop moving and you can see in the way that his eyes glint that he’s aware of how distanced he is keeping you.

“Loki, what’s hurting you?” It’s a simple question, but that’s all it takes. After over a thousand years spent dancing around problems and masking insecurities, your willingness to openly address such intimate pains was still so novel to him.

The first few times he had spoken to you, really spoken to you, all illusions set aside and with no intent to trick you, he had been struck hard by your lack of judgement. All Loki ever knew was how to hide the most vulnerable parts of himself because others would use them against him. WIth you though, the vulnerability was exclusively used as a bridge to growth. You had told him once that energy flowed toward energy. It was made to grow. Naturally, because he was composed of all different kinds of untamable energy, it was only inevitable that he would continue to evolve into a stronger version of himself if he chose to recognize the points that were draining him.

Energy moves toward energy, and so he allowed his to move to you.

“I don’t feel I belong here. I’m not worthy of forgiveness.” The confession twists your heart into a knot. It hurts to hear the insecurity lacing his voice, but the emotions that seep into you hurt even more. With his wall down, you can feel the nervousness, fear, anxiety, and overall sense of loathing that Loki has been carrying by himself. You understand why he blocked himself from you, but you’re so incredibly relieved to be sharing his burden.

It takes a second for you to acclimate to the new feeling, but your feet take you the rest of the way to him as soon as you do. You’d never run from him, no matter how intense it may be to stay.

“No, no. Even just your ability to share that with me proves that you’re more than worthy, Loki.” The unshed tears come to the surface, slipping past his eyes and running slowly down his cheek. Your hand instinctively comes up to rest against his face.

“There’s not one of us here who hasn’t done things that we regret. Things that have hurt people and that we wish we could take back, but we can’t.”

More tears fall from his eyes and he looks at you so lost and frightened that you fear your heart may break.

“How do you live with it?” His eyes search yours for answers, and you wish you could tell him something that could help right now. Unfortunately, all experience you have with this calls for an agonizing amount of time to pass before even a hint of relief begins to seep in. There’s so much to do before forgiveness can come; not from others, but from yourself. It does come, though.

An idea sparks to life then, as you recall everything you’d done to make amends for the lives you had damaged, Forgiveness, understanding, healing. You knew these feelings and, luckily, that was all you needed.

Your other hand raises slowly, a soft blue light wrapping around the edges of each finger as it hugs around your skin. You hold your hand out to Loki, knowing that he needs to be the one to initiate this. You can offer yourself, but he has to choose to accept.

His large hand comes up, nearly meeting yours before he stops mere centimeters away. He can feel a slight wave of the emotions that you hold in your hand, but that same fear of being unworthy holds him back. Does he even deserve this kindness that you show him? You know he deserves that and so much more, but the doubt still makes him struggle.

The back and forth pull is not lost on you. Your thumb strokes the sharp curve of his cheekbone, finding your own comfort in providing it to him. His eyes close at the motion, and when he opens them again, the fear is gone.

Loki slips his hand into yours, finding the empty spaces between your fingers to be a perfect fit for him. He clings to you like a lifeline, and you very well may be one to him. You know he is for you.

Your light engulfs him, flowing up his arm and straight into his chest, his mind, his heart. Anywhere he needs it, your light will find him and help him feel okay. Every memory you had, every emotion, and every tear was placed into that light. Relief. Forgiveness. For Loki, it was hope.

“You do whatever you can to make up for it. You can’t fix everything, but sometimes just trying is enough.” Loki takes in your words and continues to let your energy hug him like a warm blanket. Trying. He could do that.

When he’s ready, he lets your magic go. Immediately, some of the doubt returns, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. Not when you’re here.

“Thank you.” The air around you seems to spark to life and you find your energy starts to pull toward Loki. It was odd; unlike anything you’d felt before.

Of course, there were certain people that naturally caused your powers to want to be near them. Their energies were calming enough or provided with just the right amount of curiosity that stoked the childlike wonder in yourself. You always knew exactly why you were being drawn to them. This time, with Loki, it was different. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact emotion of yearning that drew you to him. All you knew was that you felt connected.

Deciding that this moment held enough excitement for the two of you, you left it alone. Maybe you could ask about it some other time when things were a bit calmer. Right now, you just wanted Loki to relax. There were many things about your abilities that you were still yet to explore. This was probably nothing.

Loki’s hand guided you out of your thoughts and back to him. He brought you closer and smiled. “Sit with me?”

You immediately reciprocated his smile. Loki may think that his well crafted charm is the most endearing thing about him. You know that’s not true. By far the most compelling and radiant thing about Loki was the unfiltered appreciation he had for the smallest things in life. Sitting beneath a blue sky sounded like heaven when he offered it up with such a gorgeous smile.

“Of course.” You let go of his hand to lift yourself onto the cushioned bench he was sitting on. It’s long enough to provide you with enough room to place distance between yourself and Loki, but you don’t. When you’re settled, Loki finds your hand once more. He squeezes it gently and lifts the book with his other.

“Would you like me to read to you?” He raises the book a little higher so you can see the cover, but quite honestly you don’t care what he’s reading. You just like to hear his voice. You nod happily. “Yes, please.”

Loki offers you one more genuine grin and sets to work, reading the words on the page like a poet sharing their most prized work. You can feel him, deafening the world around you until you’re lulled back into a calm that only his noise can guide you to.

As he reads, your connected hands glow with an energy that neither of you intentionally brings forth; it just happens. Even without trying, some things just do.

a/n: I realized that I was making little references to moments/memories in the main story that I really wanted to write, so thats what these mini pieces will be! on that note, the second chapter should be up by saturday at the latest. i had some computer problems which sucks lol, but its getting done! after that, i'll be trying to get the new chapters up before the premiere of the next loki episode. have a lovely day yall!

#loki #loki x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki imagine #tom hiddleston #loki laufeyson #loki x reader fanfic #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel fanfic

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thosewickedlovelies · 3 years

Text

AND THEY WERE WALLMATES: Banana Bread (part 1)

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: probably T for mature themes (implications of sexy times and violence). It will go up later ;)

Summary: You share an apartment wall with Javier Peña, but that doesn’t make it any easier to get to know him. You didn’t think your baking would be the catalyst (read: Javi is jealous that Connie gets all the extras).

Tags: Mention of blood; super vague description of wound care; alcohol; TW for Javi: you have FEELINGS bby

Word count: 2,791

A/N: I guess technically this starts at the beginning of season 1, but I don’t plan on referencing the events of the show, so imagine they’re working on things less intense than trying to catch Escobar. I found Javier really tricky to write for, so I hope this reads okay! I’m so excited about the future chapters I have outlined for this lol pls get hype.

Masterlist

---

You had only been living in your new place for about a month when you got new neighbors. You were glad for the company- the four-apartment building was fairly new, and didn’t feel very lived-in. You did your best to add some personal flair to your apartment, but it still had the effect of reminding you of your own newness to this place, your lack of any deep personal connections.

Your other neighbor didn’t exactly help with that. Javier Peña had lived here for awhile before you moved in, but that was all you knew about him; you didn’t speak much beyond your neighborly greetings and his insinuating smiles. He never hides his lingering glances, but nor does he make any other moves- you sense he’s a safe type, all bark and no bite (without consent). So you always amusedly but politely ignore the invitation implicit in your exchanges. They don’t seem to have a lot of depth anyway, as if he’s just trying for the sake of trying. Granted, he probably never has to do much more than that- you’re very aware of how attractive your neighbor is on the surface. You just prefer to feel a connection slightly deeper than surface level before going home with someone.

You learn more about him from Connie, who tells you that he works at the embassy with her husband, Steve. In “janitorial services.” You raise a bemused eyebrow at that, but respect your neighbors’ privacy and don’t ask further questions. You help Connie get a job at a hospital a few blocks away from the one you’re a nurse at and promise to help her practice Spanish.

The building feels more lively now, and you’re happy to have a confidant upstairs, especially one who’s more privy to the life of your enigmatic hall-mate. You don’t know if it’s the neighborly care you feel for your new friend or if there’s some other unconscious change, but you begin to keep an ear out for Javier. You do share an apartment wall, although you don’t glean much through it. Some standard kitchen rummaging, television noise, the occasional bedroom guest (whose enterprises you try not to listen to, but damn if the man doesn’t have a perfect voice for after-dark activities). The most noticeable thing about him is the odd hours he keeps: sometimes in tandem with Steve’s schedule and sometimes not, you can never predict when he’ll be in or out.

Little do you know, you’re not the only one paying attention. Javier has spent many an evening alone with only whiskey and the television for company, but now there are other things to stimulate his senses. The smell of your baking filtering through the wall, even lingering in the hallway the next morning. The sound of you singing to the radio while clattering about the kitchen. Sometimes he turns the tv down to listen and imagines there being no wall between your two homes. What would his life be like with someone to infuse that kind of sweetness and light into it?

He doesn’t mean you specifically, necessarily. If, once or twice, your face jumps to mind while he’s taking care of himself in bed, he thinks nothing of it. You’re his beautiful neighbor- it’s a fantasy begging to be played out.

But damn if he hasn’t been tempted to make it a reality. He gets to taste your baking sometimes when you leave extras with Connie, and one day she catches his brow creased in a frown, distracted halfway through a slice of walnut banana bread.

“Javi,” Connie repeats, trying to get his attention.

“Yeah.” Javier snaps out of it, looking up.

“You’ve been staring at that piece of banana bread for a full two minutes. Is it gonna do a trick?”

He decides to lean into it, see what Connie’s reaction might be. “Only if the trick is getting me out of my pants. I don’t know a man alive who could resist the shit she makes.” He scoops another forkful into his mouth to prove his point, letting the rich, nutty flavor remind him of other places. Homes. Real homes, made of people, not the solitary kind he lives in now.

She rolls her eyes at his crudeness, but agrees. “You’re right about that. I don’t know where she gets the energy to do this after hospital shifts.”

Javier hides his next thought with another forkful of bread and a noncommittal noise. Wonder if she’d have as much energy for it if she had a man to tire her out. It was automatic, a question he couldn’t help debating with himself. Surely no one who spent that much time in the kitchen could have energy to spare on…other pursuits.

Connie is regarding him shrewdly. He avoids her gaze, focusing on finishing his plate in large mouthfuls to avoid the questions he can feel brewing. But he’s not quick enough. “Has she always brought you extras too?” she asks. Too casually, idling with her fork.

“No,” Javier says dismissively, and it’s not quite a scoff. “She wasn’t here long before you showed up. We’re not as close as you two.” Understatement. Did he sound sour about the fact?

Before Connie can ask any more questions he rises from his seat. “Well, don’t let me keep you. Tell Steve what I said.” With a nod of farewell, he turns and strides out the door.

One night you’re awoken with a start from where you’d fallen asleep on the couch. Heart pounding, you sit up, listening intently. You’d never felt unsafe here, but you’re aware of the potential dangers. What had woken you?

You hear a swear from the hall, and your muscles relax as you recognize Javier’s low voice. There’s a beat of silence, then a scraping, clinking sound. He must have dropped his keys. But then he grunts, and concern sweeps over you. You’re a nurse- you recognize the sound of a man stifling his pain.

There are long delays before each new noise that indicates an action. The doorknob twists as he grunts again, but it’s a moment before the key turns in the lock. It seems to take an age for him to get through the door; his motions sound clumsy before he closes it. Safe in the privacy of his home, so he thinks, he lets out a longer sigh, the pain and exhaustion now obvious in the sound. But you can hear his fumbling through the wall, and you worry your lip between your teeth. It is your place to go see if he’s alright?

Finally you decide that it is. You’re his neighbor and a healthcare professional, and it is your professional opinion that he sounded in-pain enough to warrant a check-up. Plus, you heard him that way before he got inside, you reason. So it’s not as if you were just being snoopy through the wall.

Just in case, though, you grab some muffins you made earlier as a backup excuse (once again mentally thanking whoever left the cookbook in your apartment). 11:30 isn’t too late for a friendly drop-by, right?

You knock softly on his door. “Javier? It’s me.” Nervous energy taps in your fingers. You’re never even been on his side of the hallway before.

There’s a shuffling sound, and the door unlatches. A narrow gap opens, into which Javier plants himself, and you immediately zero in on where he keeps one leg wedged behind the door. He leans into the elbow propped against the doorjamb above his head, while his other hand already holds a glass of what you can smell is whiskey. He looks like he would rather be anywhere but here at this moment. “Neighbor,” he greets dryly, a neutral expression on his face.

“Uhh.” You’ve never been this close to him before, and his appearance catches you off-guard. His usually combed hair is messy, waves tangling over his forehead, and he’s sweaty, the open collar of his shirt damp and the exposed skin gleaming with moisture.

Javier raises an eyebrow expectantly, taking a sip of his drink. His glances down at the plate in your hands, and it prompts you to speak.

“Hi, Javier. Uh, sorry, I know it’s late, but I thought I’d bring you some of these-“ you lift the dish “-before they come with me to work tomorrow. They’re banana bread muffins.” Your voice falters with your confidence. Your eyes can’t help but flicker over his face and chest, taking in the smear of dust on his jaw, the redness of the knuckles wrapped around his glass. Mostly you’re trying not to look at the leg he’s definitely hiding, which you can tell he’s keeping his weight off of.

Javier stares at you, not buying it for a second. His lips purse for lack of a cigarette to wrap around. He shifts the weight he has on his arm- damn, his leg hurts- and wonders what could have possibly prompted you to start bringing him baked goods now of all moments. “Why aren’t you bring those to Connie’s?” Like usual.

“Um, well-“ He sees your gaze finally drop to the leg he’s kept out of view, and too late remembers who got Connie the hospital job.

“I heard you drop your keys, and it sounded like you were in pain,” you confess. “I’m a nurse, Javier. I can help if you need it.” Though apologetic, your tone is firm, face sincere as you offer him aid. Him, your grumpy neighbor who does nothing but leer at you.

Well, he isn’t that proud. Javier sighs, and opens the door further. Your eyes widen as you see the long slice in his pant leg, blood still damp around the wound beneath. “Shit, Javier, what happened? It doesn’t matter, shit, sit down.” You surge forward without waiting for permission, tucking yourself under the arm of his uninjured side and steering him toward a dining room chair. Where he’d been about to sit down down and tend to the cut himself. He supposes your apartments mirror each other, but your familiar reaction to the layout still surprises him.

“Whoa, hey, watch the whiskey,” he exclaims, flailing out the arm holding the glass, taken aback by your sudden manhandling. With one hand still occupied by the muffins, you direct him solely with an around his waist and your shoulder propped under his armpit. He couldn’t have resisted if he tried. If it weren’t for the fiery pain in his leg, your hold would have him feeling a very different kind of heat.

You give him a look that says you won’t be fooled by his blustering as you deposit him onto the chair and the plate on the table. “May I?” you ask, kneeling, hands hovering above his wound.

“Oh, now you’re asking permission?” He scoffs in disbelief but waves a hand in consent, leaning back in the seat.

You scoff right back at him. “Look, I see blood, I make the macho men sit, okay? Why didn’t you go to a hospital with this?”

Javier studies you as you carefully lift the denim to peer at the cut on his thigh. He takes a sip of whiskey to buy time (as well as dull the stinging pain). You’ve put on a robe over what looks like pajamas, but you seem too alert to have just dragged yourself from bed. And yet...was that a pillow mark on your cheek? Just there, arcing from your temple to your jaw…

“Javier?" you're looking up at him, a touch of confusion on your face.

“Did I wake you up?” he hears himself asking.

Her gaze drops again. “No,” you answer. “Well, yes, but I fell asleep on the couch, so it was a good thing.”

Ah, that explained the pillow mark.

Finally you stand. Your hands rest on your hips, heedless of your fingertips smudged red with his blood. “It doesn’t actually look too bad. I have enough supplies here to fix you up. You stay here, take off your pants if you can manage it by yourself, and I’ll be right back.” And with that you whisk away, robe swishing through his front door.

Javier remains where he is, a bit stunned by this turn of events, your sudden insertion into his life. He shakes his head. Maybe whiskey and blood loss shouldn’t go together. He tosses back the rest of his glass anyway in order to wrangle off his jeans.

By the time you return, he feels more composed, if rather uncomfortably vulnerable, sitting in just his boxers with a bloody slice across his thigh. He watches silently as you arrange various medical supplies on the table and pull up a chair across from him. You perch on the edge of it and look at him before doing anything else. “Are you gonna tell me how you got this?”

He’s not about to tell you it was a fluke accident during one of Carillo's interrogations. Somehow, while his back was turned, the guy got free and tried to escape, swinging a knife wildly as he hurled past Javier. The cut was long, ugly, but shallow. He’d live. He couldn’t say the same for the man who delivered it.

Javier considers his answer. “Can’t,” he says. “It’s better if you don’t know.” His gaze skitters away as he speaks.

He works for the government with a poker face like that? “Janitorial work, huh?” you say dryly. Sighing, you reach for the antiseptic. “At least tell me what made it. So I can treat it properly.” You look at him steadily.

Javier looks back for a long moment. “A knife,” he says at last.

You nod, and rip open a packet of gauze. He sucks air through his teeth as the antiseptic sears the wound clean, but otherwise doesn’t speak while you work. Which is fine. You notice he’s drained his glass, and you empathize. Frankly you wish you had a drink yourself right now.

Once you’ve cleaned the cut it’s easier to see the damage. Which is minimal, thankfully. Most of the blood was probably from him moving around when it happened. You explain what you’re doing as you seal the wound closed. Only when you’re almost finished does he speak.

“Why don’t you ever bake me anything?”

It’s so unexpected that your hands still. You stare at him in astonishment, waiting for him to elaborate.

“What I mean is…christ,” Javier mutters. The unflattering fluorescent light overhead highlights the dark circles under his eyes as he scrubs a hand over his face. “You always leave extras of stuff at Steve and Connie’s. Never here.” With me.

You resume your work on his thigh, surprised to feel a tinge of guilt. “You didn’t seem like a baked goods kind of guy,” you reply, hoping you don’t sound too defensive. It was true, after all. Though you never got a sense of threat from Javier, neither did he seem the type who would appreciate domestic gestures of friendship.

He didn’t look offended, however. I’ll try anything once,” he says, the ghost of a familiar smirk suggesting he’s feeling better. But then he leans forward, all traces of smirk vanishing. “And your lemon drizzle cake was incredible.” Javier looks at you seriously. His face is too close for your level of acquaintanceship, but you don’t move away.

Surprised, you assess him anew, wondering if you’re catching a glimpse of the man beneath all the masculine posturing. He’s nicer-looking this way, you muse. His face softer, brown eyes wide and sincere. You hide just how pleased you are at this insight (which you’re sure he has no idea he’s giving you) beyond allowing yourself a small smile.

“Well, maybe next time I’ll bring you some.”

Javier can’t quite find another quippy response, so he just gives a small nod, finding it hard to draw back even after you break his gaze. He tries not to fidget as you place a final strip of tape over the gauze bandage.

“There,” you declare, your work complete. “That should hold you for tonight.” You stand and gather up your supplies, giving him care instructions as you go. “Got it?” You seem much more relaxed than when you first arrived, confidence in your work squaring your shoulders. It’s…compelling, much more so than your usual reserved smiles in the hall.

“Yes ma’am.” Javier nods, not having heard a word. “…Thank you,” he adds, begrudgingly grateful.

You smile wryly at him. “Goodnight, Javier.”

You’ve nearly reached the door when he speaks again. “Javi.”

“Hm?” Pausing, you turn back to him.

He clears his throat. “You…you can call me Javi.”

Your smile is much warmer this time, brightening your eyes, and Javier feels his heart pound. “Goodnight, Javi.”

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #narcos fic #narcos #javier peña #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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mimisempai · 3 years

Text

Let the magic of my love take care of you

Summary :

Five times where Loki takes care of Mobius with the help of magic and once where he doesn't need it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32777188

2311 words - Rating G

"Hey here!" Loki said softly as he entered Mobius' office.

"Loki!"

"I've come to give you my report on the mission with the new recruits." continued Loki as he came to sit across from Mobius.

"I'm listening."

If anyone entered the office at this moment, there would be no indication that the two men were a couple.

But if one stayed, he would see the way their fingers brushed against each other as Loki gave Mobius the file he held in his hands, the way Mobius moved his chair closer so their knees touched, or the closer than necessary distance between their heads when Loki pointed out a detail on the papers spread out before them.

All these small gestures were evidence of their relationship, but only visible to those who knew them.

Once he finished his report, Loki stood up. His gaze fell on Josta's open can on a corner of Mobius' desk.

"How long ago did you open it?"Loki asked him.

"This morning," Mobius answered before shrugging his shoulders.

Loki took the can in his hand, which gradually turned blue, the color of his Jotun skin.

He kept it for a few seconds and then put it back under Mobius' curious look. On the can you could see the droplets of steam caused by the drink, which was now cold.

He leaned towards Mobius and said softly, "I know you prefer to drink it cold..."

Then as he got up he winked at him before turning and heading for the door.

He turned around one last time, and said, "See you later." Before closing the door behind him under the amazed look of Mobius.

"Papers, papers, always papers! I can't take paperwork anymore!" Mobius threw his pen towards the door, but he didn't hear the sound it should have made as it smashed against it. He looked up to see Loki had just entered his office and caught the pen in mid-air.

"Are you tired of me already that you want to eliminate me?" asked Loki with a teasing smile on his face.

"Aaah Loki... shit, lunch! The cafeteria! I forgot about it! I'm sor-"

"Hey, hey, it's okay Mobius, Casey told me you probably wouldn't show up, seeing as how the last time he saw you the files were piling up on your desk." replied Loki as he walked over to him.

"That doesn't stop me from being sorry."

Loki shook his head, "It's not like we'll never get another chance, and honestly what worries me the most is not that you didn't come, but the fact that you're missing out on a meal again."

Mobius protested, "It's okay I-"

Loki stopped him with a hand, "But as a devoted companion, I thought of you and... tada...!"

Loki twirled his hand and amidst the green swirls appeared... a bowl of salad, which he placed on Mobius' desk after making room.

Mobius couldn't help but laugh as he recognized the bowl of salad.

"What are you doing?"

"...your salad is Asgard in this scenario."

"No, it's not Asgard, that's my lunch."

"It's a metaphor. Just hang in there."

" I want that salad."

"I understood that this dish was your preference."

Mobius replied, raising an eyebrow, "Last time, that didn't stop you from adding salt, pepper and whatever else to it to prove your theory. With a metaphor that by the way was at least as bad as the dagger one..."

"Hey, I was right anyway, well about the salad not the dagger..."

Mobius gave him a knowing smile. He had seen the conversation between Loki and Sylvie.

"Love is a dagger." Loki made appear a dagger before continuing, "It's a weapon to be wielded far away or up close. You can see yourself in it. It's beautiful. Until it makes you bleed. But ultimately, when you reach for it…"

Loki offers the hilt to Sylvie. She reaches to take it, but the dagger disappears.

"It isn't real."

"It's real."

"It is, yes," Loki replied, then kissed him tenderly before walking away. As he closed the door, however, he threw out in a serious tone, "Don't forget to eat your salad."

Mobius smiled at his words, who would have thought his lover had a mother-hen side?

"A planet where it rains all the time! Guys... remind me to put this on the checklists of things to verify before teleporting to a planet: 'Check the weather.'"

Mobius had just passed the time-door, soaked like a drowned rat. They had been on a mission to search for someone on an unknown planet where apparently there was only one sort of weather : rain.

He hated it, his suit was sticking to his skin and he was starting to feel the wetness and cold penetrate his bones. He could not hold back a shiver.

Suddenly he saw a green light enveloping him from head to toe.

Little by little the feeling of cold and dampness disappeared and was replaced by a feeling of warmth and comfort. He was now dry.

He looked up to see Loki coming towards him, as a last green swirl faded from his hands.

Loki stopped in front of him, "I have a feeling that this mission was a pain in the ass, right?"

Mobius replied, "You know my love of rain."

Then he stopped, waved his hand to show himself, and added, "Thanks for that."

Mobius was always pleasantly surprised by Loki's little attention, but even more so by the fact that it showed how well he knew and cared about Mobius.

Unfortunately they were in one of the most crowded hallways of the TVA so Mobius couldn't show his appreciation as he would have if they were in the privacy of their apartment. However, he couldn't help but touch Loki and put his hand on his arm, squeezing lightly and said again in a gentle tone, "Thank you, really."

Loki replied with the same smile by simply nodding and placing his hand on Mobius’ hand, he said gently, "My pleasure, for you, always."

Mobius was staring at the papers in his hands, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He was about to do something, to write something, but he couldn't remember.

"Mobius? Since when do you bring home work."

Loki's voice as he entered their living room pulled Mobius from his thoughts. He blinked his eyes. "I have to finish this, and I'd rather finish it here." He mumbled, his voice hoarser than usual.

Loki said to him in a slightly annoyed tone, "Did you hear your raspy voice? Did you see your face? You better get some rest."

"I absolutely must finish this."

"Really? When you seem to be having trouble even keeping your eyes open?", Loki insisted.

"I'm fine," Mobius replied.

Exasperation was now evident in Loki's voice, "Only you believe it. Even your colleagues have noticed!"

"I'm fine!"

"Mobius," Loki sighed.

"I'm fine," Mobius repeated. "Just let me fin-..."

A coughing fit interrupted him. He coughed so hard it felt like his lungs were being torn apart.

"That's enough," Loki said in a voice that had no return.

Loki took his file out of his hands, grabbed Mobius' hands, made him stand up and pulled him behind him.

"Hey! Loki!"

Loki ignored him and pulled him towards their room.

"Loki!" Mobius coughed violently again. He felt exhausted all of a sudden and feeling himself spinning, he clung to Loki's hand.

"Mobius, you're burning up!" exclaimed Loki in a panicked tone.

Mobius shivered, as if to confirm what Loki had just noticed. "Are you cold?"

"Yes, and warm."

Loki carefully sat him down on their bed. "The important thing is to get your love fever down, okay?"

He helped him put on his pajamas with gentle touches and carefully laid him down under the blanket.

Mobius' eyes were still open and he suddenly saw Loki in his Jotun form.

"Loki? Did you just transform or am I having a gorgeous hallucination."

Loki chuckled affectionately, "Oh love, only you would call me a gorgeous hallucination when I have this form. But no, it's real. Do you trust me?"

"Even with a raging fever, yes and even unconditionally."

Loki smiled again, and went to join him. He laid behind Mobius, and wrapped his arms around him, without putting too much strength into it, and put one of his cool hands on his forehead.

Mobius breathed a sigh of relief, "Ahhh that feels good. Thank you my love." then he felt himself being swept away by exhaustion, only aware of the cool sensation around him

He woke up a few hours later, much better than before. Loki was still wrapped around him. He turned around and noticed that Loki had returned to his normal appearance.

"You've joined the living world?" asked Loki with a smile.

"Thanks to you," Mobius replied in a still hoarse voice, running a finger over Loki's face before continuing, " No longer blue?"

Loki was surprised at Mobius' almost disappointed expression. He was still a little unsettled by the fact that Mobius loved his Jotun appearance as much as his current one.

"The fever has dropped enough."

Mobius moved a little closer and pressed a tender kiss to his lips.

"Thank you for having taken care of me, Sweetheart."

Loki put a kiss on his nose before replying, "I assure you that the pleasure was all mine love."

Mobius dreamed of Ravonna, of her face at the moment she said, "Prune him" without hesitation and he disappeared.

That's when he woke up as he often does, sweating and gasping for breath. He ran his hands over his body, just to make sure he was there and alive. His chest ached under the rapid beating of his heart.

Mobius, still in his nightmare, struggled at first against Loki's comforting hands and warm voice, unable to calm his breathing that threatened to cause panic. He made a move to escape, but Loki's fingers caught his wrist before he could go anywhere.

Once Mobius let go, Loki brought their heads together, cradling him, their noses almost touching until Mobius' breathing slowly returned to normal

Mobius kept repeating, "I don't want to disappear, I want to live." and Loki would nod and whisper words of comfort and reassurance in return.

After a few minutes, Loki asked softly, "Mobius, do you want me to erase these images from your mind? I wouldn't erase the memory, only the residue of your nightmare."

Mobius tightened his arms around Loki and nodded, "Yes... please..."

He put his fingers on Mobius' temple and closed his eyes, concentrating on the images he was sending into Mobius' mind, images of beaches, jet skis, sun and warmth.

Then Loki squeezed him and Mobius buried his head further into Loki's chest and, in a hushed tone, he heard Loki suggest that he concentrate on the slow, loud sound of his heartbeat.

Mobius let himself be lulled by the soft beat as Loki's hands now caressed his hair. He vaguely heard Loki's voice whisper something, "It only beats for you."

Before he could respond, sleep claimed him, and this time filled with dreams of warmth and love

"Oh Mobius, you're bleeding," Loki said, taking a deep breath as the wizard entered the living room. It was late at night, Mobius had been on a mission that had lasted much longer than expected.

Loki approached him, "Let me see."

Mobius turned away and protested, "No, I'm going to put on a little bandage in the bathroom and I'll be fine.."

Loki replied, "Don't be stupid, let me take care of you before you spill your blood all over the apartment."

"What a drama queen!"

"Hey!"

Mobius, obediently sat down on the couch. With calm and sure hands, Loki carefully turned Mobius' arms from side to side and was relieved to find only a superficial cut. A moment later, he returned with compresses, disinfectant and a bandage.

Sitting down next to Mobius, he took the arm in one hand and began to clean the cut with the disinfectant.

Mobius hummed at the relief the treatment brought him, after enduring the rubbing of his shirt all day. He closed his eyes under the pleasant sensation.

"My poor love," Loki said in a low voice, "does it hurt?"

"I've had worse," Mobius replied. He heard Loki soak another compress, then felt it on his arm again, Loki methodically cleaning the cut again.

"I know that, but that doesn't mean you don't have the right to talk about your pain."

A moment later, Mobius felt Loki's fingers on his face, his thumb gently caressing his cheek. His lover's face was so close that he could feel his breath on his lips.

As his fingers left his face, Mobius opened his eyes again.

He watched as Loki grabbed the bandage and began to wrap it around his arm. When he finished, Loki set everything aside on the coffee table and pulled Mobius with him to the couch.

They sat in silence for a while, one against the other with Mobius' injured arm around Loki's shoulders after Loki made sure it didn't hurt.

"Do you know what my mother used to do when I got hurt as a child?" he asked Mobius, and without waiting for an answer continued, "she would kiss on my wound and tell me it would help the healing."

Mobius could hear the tender, wistful tone as he did every time Loki spoke of his mother.

"My wound is well treated now, but I wouldn't mind a kiss." replied Mobius with a teasing tone.

"You know I would do anything to make you feel better, my love." With that Loki turned to him, "Let me kiss it better." Then he leaned over Mobius and kissed him gently.

And not surprisingly, Mobius felt much better.

_______

As always, bear with me as it is not beta'd I hope you enjoyed it 🥰

#lokius fic #lokius #loki #loki series #mobius m. mobius #moki #wowki #time husbands #timefrost #jotun Loki #Magic #caring #5 + 1 things

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asexualdrago · 3 years

Text

Hugging the wall behind him and silently cried. He waited for the sudden pain she was going to inflict or hear her tease him yet again to scare him even further. But nothing came. He felt as if someone was looking at him but why weren't they doing anything to him? Were they waiting for him to look then snag him?

"Are you hurt?" The voice was deep. Particularly male. Was it another security guard or someone working the night shift? Or was it the bunny's accomplice or something?! He didn't want to look yet his curiosity got the best of him and he slowly turned his head to see the speaker.

All he saw was a tan looking metallic chest. "W-what?" Gregory lifted his head higher and looked into the face of the speaker. Only to see what appeared to be a muzzle. And a pair of bright blue eyes staring right at him. He immediately recognized it. It was one of the animatronics.

It then raised its hand towards the boy. In return Gregory winced and pushed himself further into the wall. Covering his head with his arms. "N-no p-please!" He heard a low hum and a whiz of air as the metal joints creaked of the animatronic shifted. "It's Ok. I won't hurt you." The voice was low, and deep. But strangely gentle.

Yet this didn't encourage Gregory. Only causing him to curl even more. The fabric of his shirt rubbing against his cut cheek causing it to sting. "P-p-please no" the boy cried silently. "Don't g-get me!"

_______________________________________

Glamrock Freddy had no idea what to do at this point. Usually when children are afraid of him, he does a small trick or a little joke to get them smiling. And when they are hurt he tries to be gentle and heal them but is forbidden as the guards usher him away. "Don't want to scare them more Fred." They say.

When forbidden to, he watch the children's guardians tend to them and cheer them. Usually holding them and consoling them. Or in some cases making them laugh. By strange methods usually by jabbing their fingers into their sides.

He doubted the child would like being jabbed at. Maybe when he calms down. His blue eyes scanned the scared little thing. Noting the various injuries on the child's body.

No wonder he's afraid. The intruder hurt him and now he's frightened that I would. Reaching his hand out again. Glamrock Freddy dragged his nails down the boy's back in a gentle, smooth motion. The boy shivered again. But Glamrock Freddy kept it up.

Maybe these gentle touches will let him know he's safe. He recalled his name being Gregory. Maybe he can speak to him to calm him down. "Gregory?" Instead of getting a look of excitement or something like that. It only scared the boy even more. "Oh poor thing." He stopped his stroking motion and reached out to pick the child up. Reaching under his legs and wrapping an arm around his back and picked him up with little to no effort.

Gregory began to struggle and tried to get away only for Glamrock Freddy to cuddle him close to his chest. Leaving the boy no room to struggle. He didn't want to hurt him or scare him even more. "It's Ok, I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe Gregory. Now let's get you patched up." Giving the child a gentle smile.

The boy stopped struggling and remained still. However, he noted the fear in the boy's eyes. Shifted his arms once again, he started to walk out the backstage.

He wondered what the others had found. Surely they be very excited that they found the child. But what about their creator and the intruder? All he knew it was a person in a bunny suit and they were communicating with someone but who?

He just had to get to the workshop and meet up with the others. Although, Gregory was still frightened of him. And he wanted to change that. He was also injured and he needs to heal.

Creator sometimes hurts himself when he works. Maybe he has some kind of remedy kit there when needed. He noticed Gregory remained quiet and still. But looking around when he felt that he wasn't looking. He figured he try again and soothe him. "Gregory, I know you are scared and unsure about what is happening. But I assure you, I won't do anything that will harm you." He says.

Looking down to see him stare in confusion. He noticed the boy had blue eyes just like he did. Noting the unshed tears in his eyes he felt his circuits froze slightly for scaring the poor thing by accident earlier. Reached down and rubbed his teary eyes with his thumb. Being extra careful that his long blue nail doesn't scratch him or whatnot.

The boy whined in slight protest. Noting how small he was he figured he was at least 9 to 11 years old. He was pretty frail too. Not too much pressure Freddy. Don't hurt him by accident.

He then took notice of the large cut. Placing his metallic hand over the injury and grazed his fingers over it to see how bad it was. Causing Gregory to wince. And try to push his hand away but to no avail. "S-s-stop!" The child begged. Tears falling once again. "Apologies Gregory. I want to make sure it's not infected." He then started to stroke the boy's head and hair.

_______________________________________

Gregory had no idea what was going on now. He was in the arms of one of the Glamrock Gang members and it was trying to talk to him like how an adult would interact with a child. It was crazy to say at least.

He wondered if he could get away but he remembered how tall this animatronic was compared to him and his knee was hurting and he was exhausted. He doubted he can run anywhere without being caught again.

Now he was inspecting the cut on his face and apologized for hurting him by accident. They don't act like right? They weren't programed to act like this? Right? He felt a strong, cold hand ruffle his hair and stroke his head.

The gentle touches felt genuine. The animatronic was really gentle with him. Although he felt slightly embarrassed as he was being carried like this.

He wasn't a baby. But he couldn't speak out as he was both stunned and terrified of what would happen if he did. He noticed they were taking a completely different path than the one he took to get to the backstage.

The walls were full of piping and concrete walls. Above them were red lights. He guessed they were the inside the complex's inner working. He didn't get a good look before and the red light make the animatronic a little scary but it's blue eyes made him feel better.

But where was he taking him? "Freddy? Where are ya, you sagging bear ball?" Gregory made a small snicker when he heard it. The animatronic looked down at him and gave him a smile although notably annoyed.

Gregory became shy and then hid his face to avoid looking at the animatronic he was laughing at. He hoped it wouldn't get mad and hurt him. But Glamrock Freddy had another idea in mind. Until then, he had to meet up with the others.

Been working on it lately due to being bored so I decided to take a crack at it. Hope you enjoy.

#fnaf glamrock freddy #fnaf security breach #fnaf gregory

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bloody-bee-tea · 3 years

Text

JC Love Month 2020 Day 27

Crimson

Day 27 of JC Love Month brings more of the AU where he lives with the Nie's. JC tries his very hardest to please them and he is absolutely overdoing it, resulting in his collapse. NMJ is not amused. This follows Day 9 of JC Love Month.

Jiang Cheng’s head is throbbing. He knows it’s his own fault, knows what a stress induced headache feels like, but he can’t do anything to change it.

He has one test coming up and he still has a paper to hand in. There’s no time for him to relax or even slow down.

Jiang Cheng has to ace those two things, or otherwise his grade will drop and he can’t do that to Nie Mingjue.

He is already paying for Jiang Cheng’s studies. The least Jiang Cheng can do is do well in his courses so that Nie Mingjue isn’t disappointed with him.

When a particularly bad wave of pain hits Jiang Cheng he closes his eyes against it and bows his head, but he forces himself to straighten back up a few moments later.

He has to hand in the paper today, so that he can concentrate on studying for the test. He has a plan and every minute of his day is already occupied.

Jiang Cheng cannot slack off because there is simply no time for that.

He forces his eyes open again, and tries his best to concentrate on his reading. He has most of the information for his paper ready, but he still needs one or two more sources, before he feels like he has enough and so he continues reading.

Retaining the things he’s reading is getting progressively harder, the further down the page he gets, but Jiang Cheng only shakes his head when his thoughts drift off.

It doesn’t help with his headache, but Jiang Cheng grits his teeth against the pain.

When his vision goes black he thinks it might be time for a break—he did pencil in those—but then he realizes that he only has to read two more pages and he thinks it’s stupid to stop before he finished that.

So he goes on, at least right until a crimson spot appears on the page.

Jiang Cheng frowns and blinks his eyes a few times, thinking that it’s just another headache induced vision, but when nothing happens, Jiang Cheng tries to swipe it away.

When it smears over the page, Jiang Cheng realizes that it’s blood.

“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng mutters, as he raises his hand to check his nose and when that comes away red as well, he figures that maybe this isn’t good at all.

He reaches for his phone, his first instinct to call Nie Mingjue, but then he remembers that he is on a work thing this evening. Jiang Cheng debates calling Nie Huaisang or Mo Xuanyu, but they are with Nie Mingjue—Nie Huaisang in whatever capacity he holds at Nie Corps and Mo Xuanyu as his boyfriend—and so those two are not an option either.

Jiang Cheng briefly thinks about calling Jiang Yanli or Wei Wuxian, but he doesn’t want to worry or disturb their evening, so in the end Jiang Cheng calls for a didi.

He can make it to the hospital by himself. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Jiang Cheng makes a detour to the bathroom to get some paper that he can press to his nose, before he walks outside.

It’s taking more time than it really should, because Jiang Cheng is really damn unstable on his feet, but eventually he makes it to the sidewalk.

He blinks when he realizes that he didn’t turn off the light in the house, and he just hopes that he at least closed the front door behind him, but all of a sudden Jiang Cheng is too tired to turn around to check.

Jiang Cheng sinks to the ground, hoping that the driver of the didi will still see him and then he must lose a little bit of time, because suddenly there’s a car in front of him and someone is speaking frantically to him.

“--call the ambulance,” the guy says and that finally jolts Jiang Cheng out of his stupor.

“No,” he whispers and reaches out for the guy. “Just drive me to the hospital, it’ll be fine,” Jiang Cheng says and even though his vision is really blurry and spotty he can tell that the guy doesn’t seem that convinced.

“Promise,” Jiang Cheng tells him and then forces himself to stand up.

He manages it without keeling over so he counts it as a win.

“See?” he then asks and going by the concerned look on the driver’s face, he doesn’t see at all.

But thankfully the driver bundles him up into the car, and then they go off. Jiang Cheng loses a little bit of time yet again, because between one blink and the next they are already at the hospital.

“Thanks, man,” Jiang Cheng whispers as he gets out on unsteady feet, and it’s only the driver who appears suddenly by his side who stops him from face-planting right into the ground.

“Come on,�� the driver says and leads Jiang Cheng into the hospital.

Jiang Cheng has just enough time to wonder if he brought his wallet so that the staff can at least identify him, before everything goes black.

~*~*~

When Jiang Cheng wakes up, everything is blurry and cotton-candy soft. He blinks a few times, but his body doesn’t respond like he wants it too and in the end Jiang Cheng figures it’s too much strain anyway.

He is coherent enough to realize that he’s in the hospital and that is enough for him.

Sleep seems like the better alternative anyway.

~*~*~

The next time Jiang Cheng wakes up, his room is golden and bright and Jiang Cheng squints as he looks around.

There’s no one in the room, and Jiang Cheng nods to himself because this is what he expected.

He didn’t think to update his emergency contacts yet and of course his parents wouldn’t bother to come by, not after everything that happened.

Not that they did before, Jiang Cheng bitterly thinks but then he pushes those thoughts far away.

He chides himself for being disappointed that no one else is in the room as well, because how would anyone else even know to visit him when no one has been informed about him being in the hospital, and in the end it’s just easier to fall asleep again than to pretend that he’s not foolishly hurt over this.

~*~*~

The third time Jiang Cheng wakes up, he wakes up to people talking in his room. Jiang Cheng is tempted to ignore them, because he thinks they are doctors talking about his general state of health, but then he recognizes Nie Huaisang’s voice and Mo Xuanyu’s and the hummed answer from right beside his bed is no doubt coming from Nie Mingjue and it’s surprising enough that Jiang Cheng opens his eyes.

Nie Mingjue is sitting on a chair next to his bed, while Nie Huaisang and Mo Xuanyu are lounging around on a couch that Jiang Cheng is pretty sure wasn’t there when he woke up the first two times.

“What’s going on? What are you doing here?” he croaks out and when all eyes turn to him, he wishes he kept quiet.

“You absolute asshole,” Nie Huaisang hisses and Jiang Cheng tries to hide under his blanket at his harsh tone.

“Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue chastises him. “There will be time for that in the room.”

Jiang Cheng presses his lips together when Nie Huaisang nods at that, because he seems honestly excited to yell at Jiang Cheng.

“I’m sorry,” Jiang Cheng gets out. “You don’t have to be here, I know you must be busy.”

Silence follows his words, all three of them simply staring at Jiang Cheng and just when it’s about to become too much for Jiang Cheng Nie Huaisang speaks up again.

“What the actual fuck,” he says. “Do you really think we’re upset over that?” he demands to know and Mo Xuanyu puts a hand to his arm, clearly trying to calm him down.

“We come home to an empty house, lights on everywhere, blood on the ground, you nowhere to be seen and you think we’re upset over having to sit here?”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know what to say to that, except to apologize yet again, and since that wasn’t appreciated the first time, he opts to stay silent.

“Huaisang, go home for now,” Nie Mingjue says with a meaningful look at Mo Xuanyu, who seems to understand because he gets up and tugs a reluctant Nie Huaisang along.

“Da-ge, he can’t just do that,” Nie Huaisang calls over his shoulder before Mo Xuanyu drags him completely out of the room and Nie Mingjue only hums at that.

“I didn’t realize I was bleeding so much. I’m sorry you had to clean that up,” Jiang Cheng mutters when Nie Mingjue doesn’t say anything once the door closes behind Nie Huaisang and Mo Xuanyu.

“That is really not the problem, Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue says with a sigh and he almost sounds disappointed which only makes Jiang Cheng feel worse.

“I’m so—” Jiang Cheng starts but then cuts himself off. “What is the problem?” he finally dares to ask, because he thinks that he’s not going to figure this one out on his own.

“Wanyin, we came home and you weren’t there, even though there was light on anywhere. We came home and you weren’t there and instead there was blood,” Nie Mingjue says and he finally looks up.

He seems hurt, rather than angry, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t really understand what’s going on anymore.

“We were worried something happened to you,” Nie Mingjue finally says when he seems to understand that Jiang Cheng is not getting what he wants to say.

“Oh,” Jiang Cheng whispers out and then forces a smile on his face. “But I’m fine.”

“You’re in the hospital,” Nie Mingjue says with emphasis. “I fail to see how that equates to being fine.”

“I’m—I mean—it’s not so bad?” Jiang Cheng tries next but he falls silent when Nie Mingjue glares at him.

“You collapsed out of sheer exhaustion,” Nie Mingjue tells him and pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a long breath. “Why won’t you talk to us?” he then asks, his voice quiet and Jiang Cheng can feel tears prick at his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” he admits, fiddling with his blanket and unable to meet Nie Mingjue’s eyes.

“What’s going on, Wanyin?” Nie Mingjue asks and he says it with so much feeling that Jiang Cheng starts to cry.

Nie Mingjue doesn’t say anything to that, but he gathers Jiang Cheng up in his arms, simply holding him until he feels at least a little bit stable.

“I had a test and a paper due this week,” Jiang Cheng finally whispers and he feels close to panicking when he realizes that he probably already missed the deadlines for those.

“Relax,” Nie Mingjue says and puts his hand to Jiang Cheng’s neck. “We called your professor, you got an extension, it’s no problem at all,” he reassures him and Jiang Cheng presses the heels of his hands to his eyes.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he sobs out. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble, and I promise I’ll do well on both the test and the paper, please don’t think I’m ungrateful.”

“I would never think that,” Nie Mingjue softly tells him and moves his hand to cup Jiang Cheng’s cheek in it, forcing Jiang Cheng to take his hands away from his face.

“Wanyin, if I had known that you would put yourself under so much pressure, I would have never agreed to send you back to school,” Nie Mingjue says and Jiang Cheng crumbles under his words.

“I’m not disappointed,” Nie Mingjue carefully goes on. “I just wanted you to enjoy learning something that you are actually interested in. It’s not important to me if you get perfect grades, as long as you enjoy it,” he tells Jiang Cheng who doesn’t completely understand.

“But I have to be among the best,” he weakly says, hoping to convey to Nie Mingjue that he knows what expectations rest on him, that he knows he has to do better.

It’s not that he’s not trying. It’s just that he’s not good enough.

“You don’t,” Nie Mingjue easily tells him. “As long as you pass your classes, I don’t care,” he promises and Jiang Cheng gapes at him.

“What?” he whispers, because this cannot be true.

It was never enough for Jiang Cheng to just pass something.

“I don’t hold the same expectations as your parents,” Nie Mingjue says. “And I don’t hold you to the same standards. All I want for you is to enjoy what you’re learning.” There’s a brief pause. “Are you?” Nie Mingjue then asks and Jiang Cheng nods his head.

“I am,” he immediately says, because he does enjoy his classes, now that he got to choose them on his own, but he never dared to think that, too afraid that he would slack off, simply enjoying his classes.

“Then that’s all I need,” Nie Mingjue promises him and pulls him into another hug. “Please don’t ever scare us like this again,” Nie Mingjue whispers into his hair and Jiang Cheng clings to him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think,” Jiang Cheng gives back and buries his face in Nie Mingjue’s shoulder. “How did you even find me?” he then thinks to ask, because he didn’t update his emergency contact and no one here at the hospital should have known him or where he’s staying.

“A friend of mine, Wen Qing, she’s a doctor at another hospital,” Nie Mingjue explained. “I wanted to call the police but I wanted to know if you’re in the hospital first. I had her call this hospital as it was closest and pretend to need some information about you.”

“I see,” Jiang Cheng nods, and promises himself to update the emergency contact as soon as he is home.

“Wanyin, why did some of the nurses ask me why you’re here again? With the same symptoms even?” Nie Mingjue suddenly carefully asks and Jiang Cheng freezes.

“I—that was—” he starts, but he doesn’t know how to finish.

“Did it happen when you were still with your parents?” Nie Mingjue wants to know and Jiang Cheng nods miserably, glad that his face is still hidden.

“Last year,” he admits. “I collapsed at home, due to stress and overworking myself. I woke up here as well,” he says but then he lets out a bitter chuckle. “Except that back then, the only visitor was my mother, who brought me my homework.”

Jiang Cheng can feel how Nie Mingjue tenses at those words and then he pushes Jiang Cheng away so that he can look him in the eye.

“Is that why you said we don’t have to be here? Is that why you were so surprised to see us?”

“Yes?” Jiang Cheng gives back, wincing when he sees the thunderous expression on Nie Mingjue’s face.

“Let me guess, then: you also didn’t call us at the function, because you thought it would be a bother.”

“I’m not supposed to disturb my parents during work things,” Jiang Cheng whispers.

“But we are not your parents,” Nie Mingjue gives back and takes Jiang Cheng’s hand in his. “We are your family and we would have absolutely left the function the moment you told us to. We would have come back immediately and we would have cared for you like family should and we would not have been mad,” Nie Mingjue says with emphasis and Jiang Cheng has to swallow against the lump in his throat.

“I see,” he mumbles and Nie Mingjue squeezes his hand.

“Do you really?” he softly asks and Jiang Cheng shrugs.

“I hear you, but it might be a while before I can do it,” Jiang Cheng admits and Nie Mingjue lets out a sigh.

“Fine. But please work on it, Wanyin, I never want to be this scared again.”

“I’m sorry,” Jiang Cheng says when he realizes just what distress he must have caused them, but Nie Mingjue shakes his head before he cups Jiang Cheng’s cheek again.

“Just promise to work on it. Ask if you are unsure. We can always say no, right?”

“Okay,” Jiang Cheng nods, even though he knows himself well enough to know that it will be quite a while before he can even bring himself to do that, but it seems to appease Nie Mingjue.

“How long do I have for the paper?” Jiang Cheng then asks, because the thought has been nagging at the back of his head all this time.

“I will inform your professor when you are well enough again to work on it, and then you’ll have a week,” Nie Mingjue answers and Jiang Cheng frowns.

“That doesn’t seem right.”

“That’s what he agreed to,” Nie Mingjue replies and Jiang Cheng has to smile at his tone.

It probably wasn’t entirely voluntarily, then.

“Thank you,” Jiang Cheng whispers and leans forward to hug Nie Mingjue again.

“That’s what family does, Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue says into his hair and then presses a kiss there, too. “Now you concentrate on getting better and then you’ll take it easy, alright?”

“I’ll try,” Jiang Cheng gives back, because he is so used to having to overwork himself, that it will surely be an adjustment to simply not do that every once in a while.

But if Nie Mingjue, Nie Huaisang and Mo Xuanyu stay by his side, then he’s sure he can manage it.

Next part

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goldentournesol · 4 years

Text

The Receptionist and the Profiler (Four)

Chapter Four: Casino Night

(Spencer Reid x f!Reader)

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

A/N: y’all gonna hate me for this one

Nowhere in the office was safe for Spencer. Every single room, except for the men’s bathroom, was completely overtaken by Y/N and every other woman in the office rambling about the upcoming wedding. They’d apparently gone dress shopping together and he’d overheard them discussing the dresses Y/N had tried on. Not that he was interested in the act of dress shopping itself, but he imagined that even the ugliest dress on the market could never take away from Y/N’s beauty. She could drape a potato sack on her body and put on a veil and Spencer would still think she’s the most beautiful girl in the world. He wondered if Anderson thought the same.

But seriously, it was getting unbearable. The breakroom--the centerpieces, the bullpen--the dress, the kitchenette--whether or not she’ll have her hair up. He practically had to hide in the men’s room when he wasn’t on a case. Spencer hadn’t had a proper conversation with Y/N since the announcement. He missed her. He missed their little chats and he missed making her smile at his dumb jokes.

He was currently hiding in the bathroom--despite him being absolutely grossed out by every surface--he planned on staying here for a few minutes, just to calm his racing heart. Every time someone brought the wedding up, it would send his heart and sweat glands into overdrive. He was glad the bathroom was empty so he could wash his face and pick at his nails until he was ready enough to leave it. He was leaning up against a wall when the door opened and Morgan walked in.

“Hiding, huh?” He asked knowingly, as if he was completely unfazed to see Spencer in there.

“Yup.” He replied simply, turning away as Morgan went.

Morgan sighed heavily as he emerged from the urinal and began to wash his hands, “I’m sorry, man. I can’t imagine how annoying it must be for you, but seriously if I have to hear Garcia ask one more time if she’ll be able to provide a vegetarian option, I might actually explode.”

Spencer found it hard to smile back at his friend but managed to give him a nod. Morgan dried his hands and stood in front of Spencer, “Hey, have you tried talking to her? Maybe..telling her...” He trailed off suggestively.

“No! I haven’t even had the chance to say anything to her besides ‘good morning’. You know, with us being on cases and stuff, and now we’re in the office and I can’t even talk to her. And you can absolutely forget about me telling her anything about anything.” Spencer nearly pouted as he ran his hands over his face, absolutely exhausted.

“Well, okay, then forget the office. Talk to her at Rossi’s, she’s coming to Casino Night on Friday, right?” Morgan tried to reason.

“Yeah, but so is Anderson, and she won’t leave his side. So when the hell am I supposed to talk to her?” Spencer huffed frustratedly.

“You’ll figure it out, man. Now come on, you’ve been gone for too long, I think people are starting to worry about you.”

Rossi was hosting a mini casino night in his house--mansion--as a means for the whole team to unwind. Everyone was glad for the distraction since the last case hadn’t gone so well. It also gave everyone the excuse to dress up, which was nice for a change. Spencer wasn’t even sure whether his teammates would like it if he played with them, but he’ll go anyway, even if it’s just because he wanted a chance to talk to Y/N.

Friday rolled around way faster than any of them had expected, or maybe because Spencer was stressing so much that time seemed to fly and everyone else experienced time normally. Thankfully they hadn’t gotten any cases and had the entire weekend off. Of course, he was the first to arrive, again. What is so difficult about coming on time? He was just jumpy and anxious because he’d try to talk to Y/N tonight. He doesn’t think he’d be confrontational or….confess anything, he just genuinely misses her. She and Anderson arrived half an hour after Spencer had. She looked...stunning. It wasn’t often that he’d see her all dressed up, it was almost too much for Spencer to handle. He could barely take his eyes off of her.

She’d spotted him in the kitchen as soon as she came in and sent him an excited wave from the doorway. His face responded with a blush far faster than his hand responded with a wave. Morgan quickly whisked Anderson away and Spencer hoped it would be that way for the rest of the night. She quickly made her way over to him and Spencer was absolutely entranced by the way her emerald green dress sparkled and twinkled under the light coming from Rossi’s expensive chandeliers.

“Spence! Hey!” She began as she greeted him with a hug.

“Hey yourself. You, uh, you look really really pretty, by the way.” Spencer stammered as he stared back at her. He cursed himself for being so nervous.

“Thank you. You look dashing. You know how much I love this tie on you.” She grinned as she extended her hand to rest on the tie. Spencer was terrified she’d feel his heart beating through his chest, but was more than glad she’d noticed his tie. He’d worn it specifically because he remembered her complimenting him every time he wore it.

“I do...know, I mean.” He chuckled awkwardly as he tried not to focus on the way her hand was still on his chest. She was so close he could definitely smell her divine perfume. It always reminded him of her, he’d be able to recognize it anywhere. She gazed up at him so sweetly and Spencer’s eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to the rich redness of her lipstick. So perfectly lined, so tempting.

He’d decided then, red was his new favorite color.

“I missed you all week, we haven’t had the chance to talk at all.” She pouted her bottom lip ever so slightly and he never felt like he wanted to kiss someone as bad as he did then. He almost frowned when she stepped away to start pouring herself a glass of wine.

“Yeah, we haven’t.” He felt as though her gravity was pulling him in and all 187 of his IQ points had decided to disappear right into thin air as she smiled up at him.

“Are you feeling okay, Spence?” She giggled, sipping from her glass, eyeing him from her spot at the island of the kitchen.

“Yep, totally great.” He tried to laugh it off, but before he could make more conversation, JJ had swept into the kitchen and announced that they were starting another game. She pulled a laughing Y/N out of the kitchen and to one of the makeshift round tables.

“Nu-uh! I’m not playing with Reid!” Emily exclaimed as Spencer took a seat at her table, which consisted of Morgan, Rossi, Anderson, and Garcia. Spencer laughed and raised his hands in defense.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you guys kinda suck.” Spencer joked and Rossi practically jumped out of his seat.

The night went on, filled with lots of laughter and sounds of chips hitting each other. Y/N found herself trying to catch Spencer’s eye most of the night. She’d missed him. The girls had been so excited with planning and discussing the wedding with her that she hadn’t talked to him in forever...well, it was only a week of intense distraction, but it felt like forever, okay? The few times he’d caught her eye, she found herself blushing and looking away quickly.

Two hours later, Spencer had felt the need to get some fresh air outside when he heard Anderson get up and excuse himself inside. Oh no, they were leaving. He didn’t get to talk to her.

“Hey, babe, you ready?” Anderson asked Y/N, who was clearly in the middle of a game with the girls.

“Um, we’re leaving already? We just got here.” She replied, temporarily leaving her spot at the table.

“I’m just so beat, Y/N. I really wanna go home.” Anderson replied, coat already on, barely leaving her with any choice.

“Okay, um...no problem, I think I’ll stay for a while, I’ll catch a ride back with JJ. I’ll walk you out, hun.” She smiled and put up a finger to the ladies at the table to gesture that she’ll be back soon. Spencer sighed as he watched from the front porch as she led him to their car and pressed a kiss to his lips from the window when he got in.

“Night, babe. See you when I get home.” She smiled and waved as he drove away.

Spencer stood from his seat and she smiled upon seeing him.

“Hey! What are you doing out here? Bored already of taking everyone’s money?” She giggled, walking back up the front steps to meet him.

“Uhm, nothing, I was just getting some fresh air.” He attempted a smile, “Hey, so can I talk to you about something? Do you, want to...go back inside or would you like to, um, go to the backyard with me? It’s really beautiful.”

She totally forgot about the game going on inside and nodded, “Yeah, yeah. Let’s go see the backyard.”

He led her to Rossi’s gorgeous backyard which was more elegant than anything the two had seen. The pool shone under the twinkling garden lights which also did an amazing job of giving her an ethereal glow. Spencer was nervous all of a sudden as he led them both to the center of the garden. It was quiet, the chatter coming from inside the house was faint, but it was peaceful enough for him to be able to catch his breath.

“So, are you having a good time?” She attempted to fill the silence as they strolled a little in the backyard.

He laughed, sticking his hands in his pockets, “Um, well, considering Emily’s basically banned me from playing with her and Rossi literally shooed me away from his table, yeah, I’d say I’m having a great time!”

She laughed and the sound echoed in the garden, leading her to place a hand to her lips to try to suppress her giggles, “Sorry…” she mumbled a shy apology. He wanted to tell her to never apologize for laughing because it was truly music to his ears and his favorite sound in the world.

He shook his head, once again in a trance, “You are so beautiful.” He said, with a dopey grin on his face. She felt her face grow hot as she caught his lovesick stare.

“Thanks Spence…” She recoiled shyly into herself, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by his gaze. They hadn’t realized they stopped walking. Spencer found it hard not to stare.

“So, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?” She gazed up at him curiously. She caught herself thinking that his honey colored eyes were something she’d always want to stare into.

This was his last chance. It’s now or never.

“Um, I just- uh…” He trailed off nervously.

His heart wasn’t just beating, it was absolutely going batshit crazy in his chest. He swallowed nervously as his hands made fists in his pockets. He wasn’t up for this, he really wasn’t. He’d never confessed...anything to a girl, let alone his undying love for her. Why is this so hard? It’s just five little words. Yeah, but five little words that had the power to ruin everything so quickly---

“Spence?” She prodded, her hands finding each other nervously. But as he looked down at her, he thought, how could he not be irrevocably in love with her? He took a deep breath and braced himself.

“I’m in love with you.” His eyes were alight with adoration and admiration as he confessed. Years and years of pent up love and feelings have finally led up to this moment.

“What?” She stared up at him incredulously. Of all the things she thought he’d say, that was absolutely not one of them.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry if that makes things weird. I know it’s really bad timing, you’re about to get married in less than a month, but I had to let you know. At least once, so...I’m so undeniably in love with you, Y/N.” He swallowed nervously.

“What are you doing?” She began to frown, shaking her head in disbelief, tears beginning to line the inside of her waterline, “How am I supposed to react to that?”

Her hands fiddled with the ring on her finger. The ring that suddenly felt too heavy on her hand. It felt wrong to wear it. Half of her heart wanted to throw it in the pool and run away with Spencer into the night and the other half--the half that was currently winning--was planting her feet into the ground.

“I just wanted you to know, Y/N. I’m not expecting anything from you, right now, or ever. Just as long as you’re happy, even if it’s...with him.” He felt the tears gather in his own eyes.

“Spencer...you--I can’t.” She sniffled, wiping a stray tear from underneath her eye. She couldn’t leave Anderson, not even when she knew she returned every bit of Spencer’s love and admiration.

He nodded solemnly and wiped at his own eyes, “I get it.”

“You have no idea what this friendship means to me…” She began but Spencer shook his head, raising a hand to stop her.

“No, stop, stop, I don’t want just that,” he shrugged, “I want to be more than that, Y/N.” He sniffled through his nose.

“I’m...I’m sorry, Spence, I can’t.” He watched her red lips turn downwards into a deep frown as they tried to contain her small sobs.

“Yeah, I know. It’s not your fault.” He tried to smile as he wiped his cheeks, stepping past her and slipping right back into the house.

Her feet felt as though they were rooted into the grass, the tears falling from her eyes were watering her in place. She couldn’t believe her ears.

What just happened?

Did Spencer really say all that or was she dreaming again? Did he really love her? As in, love her love her? That sounded too good to be true. It felt different than when she thought back to when Grant had first told her he loved her, did it feel like she felt now? Grant was such a safe option...he was always there. She’d always thought she’d marry him, he was the only person she’d ever been with. They’d been together for so long, it felt ridiculous to think of leaving him. Was she thinking of leaving him? She hadn’t decided yet. She was never the type to leave someone at the altar, Grant was the safe option, she repeated. It’s already all planned out.

She hadn’t realized how much time she had spent in the garden until she found JJ taking a seat next to her on one of Rossi’s bamboo chairs.

“Hey, you disappeared, is everything alright?” JJ asked and Y/N was glad she was slightly turned away from her so she couldn’t see the remnants of her tears.

“I...I don’t know. I don’t think so. I’m--I’m just--,” She choked back a sob, her emotions bubbling up inside of her. JJ was quick to pull her up to wrap her in a compassionate hug, “I don’t know what to do, JJ.”

“What is this about?” JJ asked, even though she had a very strong inkling as to what it was about.

“He’s my best friend.” She said simply and it clicked in JJ’s mind. She sighed and nodded, but her blue eyes looked past Y/N.

“Um, I think you two have a lot to talk about.” JJ said before leaving hurriedly, giving the two the privacy they needed.

Y/N turned to face Spencer again, who had his hands in his pockets, “Spence, I’m sor-” She began but she was immediately cut off by Spencer’s soft lips enveloping hers. She gave in quickly as his hands came up to cradle her cheeks and guide her into his face as much as he possibly could. Her hands instinctively rested upon his warm chest. It simultaneously felt as if they’d both kissed a thousand times, yet it was still foreign to her. She’d never known that a simple kiss could be so powerful and intoxicating. Of all her years dating Anderson, never once had he kissed her with this much passion. She’d thought all those authors of all those romance novels must have been exaggerating when they’d said a kiss transported them somewhere--but now she knew. She knew what that felt like. And she never wanted it to end.

But it had to end. Because everything that’s good ends.

All Spencer could remember thinking was, finally, finally!

Their lips pulled away from each other and neither could contain the little smiles they had, but their faces remained close, “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”

She blushed, shaking her head slightly, “No, I think I might have an idea.”

Spencer’s thumbs caressed the soft skin of her cheeks as he gazed longingly at her lips again. Now that he’s gotten a taste, he’s not sure he can control his impulses. He found himself leaning in for more and her almost giving in before pressing firmly on his chest.

“Spence…” She spoke against her better judgement.

“You’re really going to marry him?” He frowned, taking back his hands from her face, she felt the warmth disappear immediately and found herself wishing for it back. As a compromise, she grabbed his hands before they went to his sides, trying to hold onto any semblance of warmth she could.

She nodded solemnly, having made up her mind, although Spencer’s kiss was nearly pushing her off the edge of what was right and what was wrong, or rather--what was safe and what was not. She never had to worry about whether or not Grant would come back home to her, she never had to worry about Grant being blown up in some ranch in Colorado, she never had to worry about serial killers chasing after her.

“Okay.” He nodded simply, respecting her final choice.

He took a few steps back, their hands slowly slipping from each other, before disappearing into the house once more.

He felt as though that was the end. He’d let it all out to dry, she finally knew how he felt about her. And that was the most important part. He was broken, sure, but at least he felt a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

He didn’t have to hide anymore.

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kienava · 3 years

Text

several folks requested beacon era bees for a fic giveaway and i miss them so enjoy <3

_________

Dancing - Blake can’t remember the last time she enjoyed it.

She remembers going to functions with her parents when she was little and frolicking to her heart’s content before self-consciousness hardened into an opaque shell around her.

With the White Fang, there were plenty of other teenagers who were just as awkward and nervous as she was, but nights spent with them around bonfires always felt stolen and forbidden. Having fun meant wasting time that could be spent on the mission.

Seeing so many hunters-in-training taking the time to relax and forget their own insecurities reassures Blake now. She’s somewhere safe, relatively speaking, and she’s allowed to take a night off from trying to fix the world. She’s allowed to enjoy wearing a dress, and she’s allowed to enjoy yelling the wrong lyrics to songs along with her friends.

Yang was right to encourage this, she thinks. And the fog machine is actually pretty cool.

Considering how difficult it is to look anywhere else when Yang is in the room, Blake’s seen surprisingly little of her. Yang greeted her when she came in and then ran off, and Blake hasn’t spotted her since. It feels a little silly to want to thank someone for inviting her to a school-wide event, but she certainly isn’t going to thank Sun for stepping on her foot three separate times. Blake feels compelled to find her partner and say it anyway, and she’s confident the buzzing in her stomach won’t stop until she does.

Sun is trying to figure out how to re-knot his tie properly after tying it around his head and subsequently loosening it beyond salvation. Neptune is about as helpful as Blake would have guessed, and when Jaune gets involved, the whole thing is a lost cause.

Blake searches the room. It’s challenging enough to look anywhere else when Yang is in a room - but despite that, she’s surprisingly difficult to find.

It’s only when a giggling, stumbling couple clears out of the balcony that Blake sees her. She’s watching from one story up, her elbows propped on the railing and her chin resting on tight fists. There’s a wistful look on her face, and Blake might not have recognized it if she hadn’t seen it before.

She remembers watching Yang drag a piece of chalk across a blackboard, that same expression following as she looks at the floor. Sometimes Yang is loudest when she says nothing at all. When a teacher asks if her semblance causes her pain and she doesn’t say no. When someone mentions their mother at lunch and Yang doesn’t have a quip ready in reply. When someone asks if she’s interested in anyone and she says nothing at all.

Blake thinks she’s started to understand what those silences mean. Right now, Yang is unmistakably lonely.

It’s written in that cloudy, content smile. A quiet yearning with no particular velocity, like a single firefly hovering still over a field in the middle of the night. Look directly at it and it disappears.

Most people are born alone, but nobody is born lonely. That kind of thing has to be learned, practiced, perpetuated. Eventually, when solitude is a choice, it’s a comfort. Blake understands, though it’s not something she ever thought she’d have in common with the most extraverted girl in the whole school.

Maybe it’s foolish to hope that Yang will feel Blake’s eyes on her and turn her head, but Blake hopes anyway. She doesn’t remember when she started wishing so recklessly. The thrill it brings is something she’s only ever mined from the pages of her favorite novels, usually in the moments before an almost-kiss or a bracing confession. So she wishes, and she hopes, and she watches.

Yang keeps her eyes on the crowd, scanning with a soft focus that says she isn’t searching for anything. She glances toward the corner where the fog machine is. Weiss has made plenty of vague threats about the machine breaking under mysterious and unprovable circumstances, so it’s probably smart to keep an eye on it. But that can’t be the sole reason Yang has sequestered herself on the balcony.

Blake drifts off, leaving Sun, Neptune, and Jaune to their contained chaos. Pyrrha will probably intervene before anything gets broken.

At the bottom of the stairs, Blake bumps into the couple from the balcony, but they’re too wrapped up in each other to notice. As they whirl towards the dance floor, already laughing and twirling in each other’s arms, Blake looks over her shoulder, and she suspects her expression matches the one she just saw Yang wearing.

A few other people are up on the balcony, including Ruby, who’s so sick of her shoes that she’s put her bare feet up on a table. Blake passes by and raises an eyebrow at Weiss, who’s in the middle of an impermeable tirade about how revolting and utterly inappropriate it is to take off one’s shoes in public. Ruby simply leans back in a chair precariously, hands behind her head, eyes closed. Sooner or later she’ll lose her balance and fall over, but Weiss is right there to catch her, bare feet and all. That’s what good partners do, isn’t it? Catch each other, no matter what.

Yang finally looks away from the dance floor when Blake is just passing Ruby’s table.

“Blake!” she calls. Her distant, foggy smile has brightened into a wide grin, and Blake feels like she’s just reached the bottom of a page.

“It's pretty exciting up here,” Blake replies. “I think I just heard Weiss mention foot sweat.”

“Gross,” Yang laughs.

Blake slides up next to her and grips the railing. “I think it hurt her to say it more than it hurt me to hear it.”

“Definitely.”

Yang looks back down at the party, and Blake hears the beat of silence that follows.

Blake pokes Yang’s shoulder. “So, are you having fun up here all by yourself?”

“I’m not by myself. Ruby and Weiss are--”

“Arguing about foot sweat.”

“And I’m having a great time watching.”

“Uh-huh.”

Yang turns to face her fully, and Blake is struck once again by how beautiful she is. The dress is cute, but it’s the attitude, the smirk, the pop of her hip.

“You got something to say, Miss Belladonna?” Yang teases.

“I came up here to say thank you, actually.” Blake rocks away from the railing, hiding her hands behind her back. “But I’m a little confused. You went on and on how much fun this dance was going to be, but you’ve barely done any dancing yourself.”

Yang mirrors her but leans one elbow on the railing. “Sounds like you’ve been keeping tabs on me.”

It’s like their own little unconventional waltz. One leads, the other follows, alternate, repeat. Is it too soon for Blake to know that she would follow her partner anywhere? Is it wishful thinking for her to believe Yang would do the same?

Blake could say something, or she could let her sly silence do the talking.

Yang holds her gaze for a moment, then another, before looking over the railing.

When Yang looks back again, her lip curls shyly, and Blake’s pretty sure she’s not thinking about the fog machine anymore.

“I’m glad you came,” Yang says.

Blake wants to kiss her again, pick up where the left off in their dorm room. First kisses are supposed to be messy, and Blake wouldn’t trade it for anything, but she feels the need to thank Yang for this night in as many ways as possible, with and without words. After all, Yang hears her no matter what.

But they’re in public, and Blake isn’t sure if Yang would be comfortable with that. For all the attention she commands, Yang doesn’t make a point of sharing personal details with... anyone, really, now that Blake thinks about it. Not on purpose.

Blake remembers when she accidentally saw Yang’s bullet-bruised skin after a heavy fight, and she knows that the rest of their team doesn’t know about it.

When one of their friends needs to talk, Yang is happy to listen. Yet she never brings up anything more serious than a bad homework grade herself. She overwrites her own silences with easy jokes and disguised deflections. If Weiss and Ruby are around, she’s wary. Maybe she doesn’t want her sister to worry.

Blake knows what it’s like to keep the truth from people and think that you’re protecting them.

“Yang?” she asks.

“Hm?”

“You are having fun, right?”

Yang shifts. “Of course. Aren’t you?”

“Mostly.”

That catches Yang’s attention, and suddenly this is a very serious matter to her. “What’s wrong? Did someone spike the punch?”

“You wish.”

“Did someone not spike the punch enough?”

“No...”

“Because I can fix that.”

“Nothing needs fixing,” Blake says. She reaches for Yang’s hand and squeezes, hoping it’s convincing. “Tonight is pretty much perfect.”

Yang frowns. “Pretty much?”

“Well, I’ve barely seen the person who asked me to come to this thing in the first place.” Blake steps closer, and she sees Yang’s breath catch in her chest.

Yang covers it with a light and fleeting laugh. “Yeah, I could have guessed Sun wouldn’t be the most attentive date on the planet.”

Blake almost rolls her eyes because that one is way too easy to see through, but she’d rather watch the blush flare under Yang’s freckles. “I wasn’t talking about Sun.”

“Oh.”

Yang doesn’t move, and she doesn’t say anything more, and Blake isn’t sure what to do. Whatever Yang’s silence is trying to say is drowned out by Blake’s deafening need to kiss her, and it certainly isn’t helping that Yang is still holding her hand.

“Blake...” Yang says the name like she’s starting something, and it’s infinitely more exciting than turning a page.

In invitation, Blake nods her head towards the stairs and tugs just slightly on Yang’s hand. “You promised me a dance.”

“I guess I did,” Yang laughs.

She looks down at their hands like she’s double-checking a lock, and Blake hopes she never gets better at hiding it when she’s nervous.

Maybe she’ll get to kiss Yang later, when they’re walking back to their dorm at midnight after staying late to help clean up. Blake’s legs will be pleasantly exhausted from jumping around all night, and Yang will pull her jacket out of nowhere and drape it around Blake’s shoulders. Blake will pause to shiver and pull the coat tighter, and momentum will carry Yang half a step in front. She’ll turn around to see why Blake stopped following, look up at the shattered moon, and then find Blake’s eyes watching her, waiting. It will take a moment, perhaps two, for Yang to gather her courage, and then Blake won’t feel the cold at all.

It’s a scene right out of one of Blake’s books - but it doesn’t even compare to the way Yang looks at her when they reach the bottom of the stairs, all light and admiration. Blake can’t help but think of the couple she ran into earlier, and she allows herself to make one wish.

She hopes they stay like this always, side by side, braced to spin and fall and catch each other.

Blake certainly isn’t going anywhere.

***

[cross-posted on AO3]

#bumbleby #bumbleby fic #no association with bumbleby week i am simply out here

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