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Sweetest of Exiles - One

Summary: When Oberyn Martell travels to Essos for exile, he found more than he anticipated when he first lays eyes on Pero Tovar, his brother-in-arms in the Second Sons mercenary company. While Pero is a bit resistant to his Oberyn’s overt charms at first, the Prince always gets what he wants. When the Second Sons are hired to rescue a wealthy merchant’s daughter, Oberyn learns there is much more to the grumpy sellsword. And Oberyn doesn’t mind sharing–especially when the merchant’s daughter smiles at him like that.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Pero Tovar, (past) Pero Tovar x F!Reader (No Y/N), future--it is a surprise.

Rating for this chapter: T for mentions of blood, guts and gore...magic. My overuse of italics.

Word Count: 5k

A/N: I wrote most of this drunk (or buzzed). I am still riding my red wine high so I almost apologize for the nonsense. If you have any questions about the ASOIAF lore/geography that I’m mentioning, please send me an ask or a DM! I’m always happy to ramble about this series.

(thank you to my love, @starlight-starwrites for the absolutely gorgeous banner. I love you.)

Or read on Ao3 here!

CHAPTER ONE: The Mercenary

Oberyn had always wondered what he looked like when fucking someone. He had looking glasses set up in one of his lover’s rooms so he could try to catch a glimpse himself. But his unrelenting need to keep his partners satisfied always won out over his curiosity.

But then the gods seemed to have a sense of humor when they sent him away from Dorne after he might-have-killed Edgar Yronwood. The Citadel and Oldtown had entertained him for a moment but it soon bored him and he set off across the Narrow Sea to Essos. While the Second Sons mercenary company welcomed him and his sword arm, his eyes were firmly trained on the man toward the back of the company with the scar down his face.

His face.

And well, his time away from Dorne just became much more interesting.

It had taken almost an entire year of not-at-all subtle flirting and propositions and nearly losing their lives time and time again before Pero found himself tumbling into the Prince of Dorne’s bed. The Prince was definitely persistent, Pero would never admit that his charms—his annoying charms—had worn him down instead of Pero’s selfish desire for release while the company was too far away from any sort of willing woman and his hand just wasn’t cutting it. But the Prince had been attentive—willing to let Pero wrap his scarred and rough hand around his throat when he was pressing him into the threadbare bedroll in the quiet corner of camp.

The prince felt good—and he knew how to make Pero feel good.

It was infuriating—he wanted to strangle he smug smirk right off the prince’s face but he knew that the Prince was only capable of enjoying when someone’s hand was around his throat. But he had to admit that he had finally found a true friend (and not just release) with the man who looked strangely like him.

It had been nearly two decades since he could speak with someone as openly as he did when he was alone with the prince in their tent.

But his mind still drifted—to years ago. To his life before finding coin in the service of the Second Sons.

“You make the moon shine brighter, Pero.”

It was childish of him, stupid, to still think of her all these years later. Surely she had forgotten him. They had just been children—he had just been a third-born son of a disgraced lord from Valysar and she had been… she had been everything.

“You are pensive, Tovar.” The prince’s voice cut through his reverie.

He had thought the prince asleep—spent from a long day’s ride and a quick, near-desperate fuck as soon as their shared tent was erected. “It is dark, princeling. You cannot see me.”

Oberyn chuckled. “I know your brooding silences from your angry quiet.”

“You think a great deal of yourself, don’t you?” He grumbled, rolling his eyes despite the dark.

“I believe you think a great deal of me, as well.”

Pero sighed.

“Tell me what weighs on your mind.”

“Nothing that concerns you. Go to sleep.”

Oberyn laughed. “I will find out what has you brooding.”

“Do not hold your breath, princeling.”

He only laughed.

Pero was not sure when they had both fallen asleep but they were both woken by a frantic yell outside their tent. The prince’s knife glinted in the dimming moonlight and Pero had never let his hand leave the hilt of one of his smaller swords as they charged outside. They expected an ambush—a retaliation from the Tyroshi they had just pushed back on behalf of Lys—but instead, they found a disheveled man, bloodied and bruised and desperately limping toward their camp, frantically waving his hands above his head, shouting something in the Myrish bastard Valyrian dialect.

Pero sheathed his blade as he finally started to realize what the man was babbling. “Calm yourself, man.” Pero said, stepping in front of Oberyn.

The man nearly collapsed as he reached them, big, brown eyes shining in the moonlight. “They took her. They took her—I barely escaped.” He continued to jabber and Pero mostly listened—having heard desperate pleas from hundreds of men and women over the years of his service in the mercenary company—the man’s story consisted of being surrounded on the road to Myr by a group of religious zealots. The story was not an unfamiliar one. The Free Cities were known to erupt with pockets of violence; the causes ranged from trade disputes, claims to land, religion, and everything in between.

Pero had heard it all.

But then the man opened his mouth, blood drying on his chin, and said, “but they took her—they wanted her.” And a name pushed by the man’s bruised lips—a name he hadn’t heard in years.

Before he could stop himself, Pero reached out and grabbed the man by the collar of his tunic and hauled him to his unsteady feet. “Tell me where.”

The captains deliberated for only a few short moments before refusing to take the charge.

The fact that the woman was Qohorik had negated the fact that the Myrish magistrate who had fought his way to their camp had promised a princess’ ransom and promised that her father, a prominent merchant, would double it for her safe return. The Second Sons had been humiliated generations ago at Qohor and had not taken any bounties or contracts from the city or its inhabitants since then.

The Second Sons gave the magistrate—Orestes, his name was—some water and a bit of feed for his exhausted horse and then told him to leave. They would not go.

And Pero was an angry man. He had wrath in his blood since he was a boy, tempered only with bouts of relief and quiet. But this had sent him into a near rage with how flippant they captains had been when they had delivered their decision. Of course, he had not mentioned that the woman Orestes had pleaded to be rescued had been…her. Or how he knew her. Attachments like that were frowned upon, even by mercenaries. Soft hearts made easy targets.

But as the sun set the next day, Pero knew what he had to do. Even if he was alone. He packed his bare essentials, mostly worried about his sack of coin and weapons, and then pushed out of the tent-

-only to be met with the smirking face of the princeling. “Come, I have a surprise for you.”

“I do not have time for this.”

“Yes, you do,” Oberyn said with a broadening smirk as he turned away, leading Pero further away from camp as the moon continued her climb up into the inky sky. And why was Pero following him? He had to leave. He had to find that stupid magistrate. He had to-

There were about two dozen Second Sons, including one of the company’s healers, waiting at the tree line with their packs and mounts. Oberyn’s smirk reached its peak as he winked over his shoulder at Pero who only scowled in return. The Magistrate—Orestes—was standing with them, looking more than a little out of place with his rumpled fine clothes, now stained with dirt and blood. But he offered a tentative tilt of his head when Pero stepped up to the group with Oberyn.

“What did you do?” Pero hissed.

“I formed my own mercenary company,” Oberyn replied with a roll of his shoulders. “I know you are brighter than this, Tovar.”

If possible, his lips formed an even thinner line.

“Do not pout. We are going to save the damsel and get paid.” There was a cheer from the small band of men—both Tovar and Orestes were the only ones who did not seem to enjoy it. But soon they were on their way, each step taking them further away from the strange safety of the Second Sons and into the wilds of Essos.

Orestes, Pero found, was fond of speaking to anyone who would listen. His voice was pleasing but Pero preferred the quiet in most instances. But, he supposed it was necessary to learn just how he had ended up fleeing to the Second Sons in a desperate plea for help.

Orestes and his companion had been traveling from Qohor to Myr—and Pero tried very hard to not grind his teeth every time Orestes referred to her as ‘my lady’—to allow her to see more of Essos and to return Orestes to Myr after his year-long residency to Qohor that had been in the name of strengthening trade routes and agreements.

(“But, of course, I found myself more entranced by the city and its people than my fellow magistrates’ mandates that I was told to quickly solidify.” He sighed, the sound only a lovelorn man could make and Pero could not stop the grinding of his teeth at that.)

But on the road between Volantis and Myr, a group of heavily armed, religious zealots had slaughtered their small band of traveling companions and guards and took her and Orestes captive in a plot to gain the knowledge her father was keeping secret.

Her father, Lord Ollo, had been one of the famed smiths in Qohor who still knew the secrets of re-forging Valyrian Steel. The famed metal had become a treasure since the Doom and those who could work with the fickle and strong metal were regarded as lords and wielded their power like nobility, too. Travelers from all across Essos sought him out for new weapons, armor, and the occasional piece of jewelry from bits of Valyrian Steel and he had gained a reputation for being excessively secretive but the best at his trade. His wife was a noble woman and had raised his status with their marriage while providing her with the lifestyle on par with princesses.

But Pero knew all of this. He had seen it firsthand. He had supped with him and felt his lady-wife’s fingers tug at his boyishly poorly cropped hair with a fond smile. He knew that their home, an imposing fortress deep in the Forest of Qohor, always smelled of fire and metal and drying flowers.

It smelled…like home.

Well, it had. For a time. A long time ago.

And Orestes never needed to know that—never needed to know that the only reason he had a small band of mercenaries at his call was because the Prince knew that the woman, whose name he could not even say aloud, meant something to Pero.

For all his pride and well-earned arrogance, Oberyn was a good man, Pero had to admit. (He would never actually say this to Oberyn, his ego was big enough without the extra fodder.) And he would have to find a way to repay the prince-who-had-everything in some fashion. Pero’s pride would not allow this kindness to be left unpaid.

Orestes went on to explain that the zealots thought attaining the knowledge of Valyrian Steel would allow them the proper way of sacrificing in order to satiate the supposed blood lust of some old, stupidly named god. They hoped to trade her for Lord Ollo’s knowledge.

“But you seem to know my lady,” Orestes said, turning in his saddle to look Pero straight in the face. “Do you?”

“Is she your lady?” Pero asked in return, ignoring Orestes’ question and how his stomach turned at the thought of her being alone with a group of men as delusional as the band of zealots. Thankfully, they were nearing where Orestes said he had been held captive—less than two days’ ride from their camp but they had set their horses upon the trail with haste, cutting time from their journey.

Orestes’ answering smile was small. “No. But I am blessed to know her and I will never forgive myself for leaving her behind.”

“But she told you to, didn’t she? Told you to run and not look back.” The words were out of his mouth before he could bite them back and his ever-present scowl deepened.

“You do know her. Indeed, she told me to run as soon as I was able. But not to Myr—she told me to run west.” He paused and shook his head and Pero barely caught the confusion coloring the Magistrate’s features. “I had thought the prince was jesting when he said you knew her. I am in your debt, it seems.”

“Just pay the fee you promised.”

“Of course! I would not dream of-”

“Good.” Pero dug his heels into his horse’s side and urged the animal into a faster trot. “You will keep your head, then.” Orestes said something else but Pero had already galloped away to Oberyn’s side at the front of the group. “What have you said to the magistrate?”

“Nothing of consequence.”

“Do not lie to me, princeling.” Pero scarcely noticed the men behind them slow their horses’ pace to give them room. Their relationship—if it could even be called that—was an open secret to most in the Second Sons and some of those who followed Oberyn into this new company were also willing to indulge themselves in each other’s bedrolls if the time called for it.

Oberyn only laughed. “I did not know that your obvious reaction to a lady’s name was a secret needing to be kept.”

“What else have you told him?”

“Nothing. Just as you have told me nothing. But I have still called the men who were loyal to me and the promised coin to save this woman you have kept like a secret.” Oberyn arched an eyebrow, a look Pero knew meant Oberyn was daring him to argue. “She will be safe. The Magistrate will be on his way and our pockets will be filled.” Oberyn’s dark eyes sparkled in the growing sunlight. “And I shall meet this lady of yours. She must be a sight to behold to warrant such attention.”

“She…” The words died on his tongue. How would he even try to describe her? How childish would he sound to a prince for harboring such affections for his childhood love after all this time? “She warrants much more than any man could ever give. Including the Magistrate.”

Oberyn huffed but a smile tugged at his lips. “We are nearly there, Tovar. You can make the polite introductions.”

Night had just started to fall, painting the sky a violent shade of orange, when Orestes had announced that the ruined castle was just over the next hill.

Pero felt his chest tighten for a moment, a shot of adrenaline he had not felt as strongly since he was a new recruit to the Second Sons facing a small horde of Dothraki.

They crested the hill and Pero saw the broken remains of a once-grand castle. A single window was lit with the dim light of a candle just as the sun disappeared behind the stone, making it look like it had absorbed the red light and bathed in an inky black.

Defense of the castle was nearly impossible with its location and the small band of mercenaries quickly surrounded it, ready to drive inside when suddenly….the door, large and rusted, opened and a single man rushed out, screaming something in what Pero thought to be Old Ghiscari and covered in…blood.

Pero turned to look at Oberyn who seemed to be waffling between amusement and confusion at the sight. He waved a hand, silently commanding two men to secure the fleeing zealot—quietly, if possible.

“It is too quiet,” Pero said as he turned back to the castle after watching the screaming man be brought to his knees and a dirty rag shoved between his lips.

Oberyn agreed. “Surely a band of zealots would make more noise. I’ve been told they’re fond of chanting.” The prince slid closer to the ruined castle, staying hidden behind the rolling hill and scattered boulders for cover.

Pero watched him move, knowing the prince had an innate talent for hearing the smallest noises—whether it be from a rabbit or a sneaking assassin, and would trust whatever his judgement was.

“If anyone is left, they are not moving.”

Pero nodded, ignoring the umpteenth time his chest clenched, and signaled for the rest of their band of men to press forward. Step by step, they neared the castle and spread out to find different entrances. Orestes stumbled in the loose dirt to stay near Pero and Oberyn and Pero grimaced when Oberyn nudged him in the side, silently telling him to allow it—at least for the time being.

Closer and closer, they crept until they Pero was able to curl his hand around the edge of the door and peel it open just enough for him and Oberyn to slip inside. Orestes tripped over a loose stone as he followed.

And Oberyn had been right.

The castle was quiet. Unnaturally so.

The grip on his swords tightened as the small group pushed further into the dark ruins. Torches were scattered and burning out in their holds on the wall, casting even more shadows against the crumbling stone. He heard the soft footfalls of his fellow mercenaries coming in through the east and west entrances but it gave him little comfort. They were alone.

Alone.

His next step made a splash and he looked down to see the toe of his boot submerged in a dark puddle. He reached out and grabbed a torch from the wall and let the dying flames shine near the floor.

It was blood.

He raise the torch just enough to light the end of the hall and sighed.

“How interesting,” Oberyn said as he glanced over his shoulder.

Blood pooled between the broken stone and drip-drip-dripped from some unseen source to puddle in the corner. Bodies were crumpled along the path and Pero turned to pin Orestes with a look. “These men were the ones who slaughtered your guards and took you captive?”

Orestes looked down at a body and seemed to bite back a gulp. “Yes.”

“It looks like they put up quite a fight.”

“It looks like they were ripped open,” Pero corrected before pressing forward. “What did this? Did they do this to each other?”

“I’ve never seen a group more cohesive than them,” Orestes said. “They never contradicted each other or spoke out of turn. They had a singular mentality, it seemed. I would not believe they turned on each other.”

“Men turn on each other all the time,” Oberyn said. “Even without cause.”

They continued forward, Pero leading. He was not sure where they were going, but he knew—instinctively—that he needed to keep moving. If another person or creature had found the castle before they did, what hope did she have? Would he find her like this, too? Reduced to a bloody corpse? Would that be the last chance he would have to see her?

But they walked on, further into the dark, catching glimpses of the rising moon in the half-collapsed windows until they turned and saw the outline of a door, lit by a dim, orange light. Without a care, Pero pushed forward, hilt of his sword still in his hand as he pushed the door open and his grip faltered.

For the first time in nearly two decades, Pero let his swords fall from his grasp.

In the corner of the small room, huddled near a solitary candle, was a woman. Not just a woman—her.

Chains wrapped around her ankles and wrists and angry, deep cuts spanned the length of her legs and arms and her fine dress had been reduced to rags. He barely registered Oberyn calling for the healer as he stepped to her side and quickly knelt down. The locks on the chains were easily undone and his roughened hands carefully prodded at the broken skin.

“Pero,” she whispered, the name sliding by her chapped lips. Her head sagged and Pero moved just enough to let her forehead rest against his shoulder. “You’re here…” her voice was rough and raspy, like she had been screaming for hours. And perhaps she had.

“I’m here.”

The healer came in, arms filled with supplies, while more than a few of their company stuck their heads into the room to see their charge. Oberyn quickly moved them back and shut the door—Pero would thank him for it later.

“Look at me. Look at me, Petal,” Pero said as the healer tutted as he looked over her wounds before uncorking a bit of firewine.

Her unfocused eyes slid to him as the healer set to work. A cry broke her chapped lips as the firewine started to spill across her legs.

Pero reached out and kept her head still, gaze on him, as the healer continued. “Just me, Petal. I am here.”

“Pe-Pero.” The name was stilted on her tongue. “Please—it hurts-” a scream tore its way out of her throat but Pero held her steady even as his chest clenched.

“I know. But it will be over soon.”

Tears gathered in her eyes and slid down her dirty cheeks as her hands shot out to grab at his armor; he could feel the heat of her touch sliding and blooming warmth through his thick tunic. But he kept her focused on him even as the healer muttered about needing more wrappings.

“I’m here, Petal. I’m here.”

“This is my fault,” Orestes whispered.

The company had settled into the ruins as a camp for the night, finding the rooms (where there wasn’t blood or any bodies) more comfortable than the outside ground. Pero, Oberyn, and Orestes were the last three to retire from the roaring fire they had made in the remnants of the great hall.

Pero agreed but kept that to himself. “How?”

“We travelled by Myr weeks ago. But I could not bear to part from my lady’s side—I convinced her, selfishly, to let me take her to see Volantis, Lys, Tyrosh. She had marveled at everything Norvos and Braavos had offered—even Lorath had made her wonder like a child. I wanted to give her more of that, to show her all I could.”

“And then you were set upon by zealots. Probably followed you from Dagger Lake.”

Orestes shook his head. “Our party never neared that pirate hive. The closest we came to it was when she insisted on seeing Valysar. That little town of no consequence.”

Oberyn, only briefly, touched Pero’s back and he knew the prince meant it as a comfort at the mention of Pero’s former home. Orestes did not notice it.

“But she was adamant and refused to tell anyone why. But she all but disappeared for an entire day once we arrived and would not speak of her adventures—the little box she had procured never left her side and was never opened.”

Pero almost smiled at that. She had not changed—in that respect, at least.

Orestes yawned and stood from the rickety chair. “I must retire for the night. Please alert me if my lady calls for me.”

Oberyn hummed an agreement while Pero felt his face curl into a sneer as the magistrate left the hall.

“He certainly holds a candle for his lady, does he not?” Oberyn mused as soon as Orestes was out of earshot.

“She did not ask for him once,” Pero said before reaching forward to grab the jug of terrible wine left on the table and took a large gulp.

“But she’s asked for you? Hm?” Oberyn asked, snatching the jug from him. “And you’ve yet to introduce me. I am almost insulted.”

“She needs rest, princeling.” He had made sure she was comfortable in one of the largest rooms and was happy to find that her trunks, filled with her belongings, were still intact and made sure she received them before he had let her rest for the night, making sure to let the rest of the company know that she was not to be disturbed.

“I’m sure she does.” He took a drink. “But she has also been trapped, alone, with men who meant her harm for nearly a week. You were the first friendly face she saw—do not think that I misheard her. She called for you. Pero.”

“You could walk in there now and she would not be able to tell the difference.”

Oberyn tutted and Pero stole the jug back. “I believe she would.”

Pero nearly startled when Oberyn reached out and grasped his wrist, keeping him from draining the rest of the wine. His grip was firm but gentle and a hold Pero knew well. “I thought people in Essos were more willing to indulge themselves in matters of the heart and flesh. Do not be stupid.”

And somehow…that worked. Pero slipped into her room and found her sitting on the small bed, wrapped legs atop the thin blankets and a book on her lap. In the warm candlelight, she looked almost healthy. Like she was not covered in healing salve and he didn’t know there were long, angry cuts hidden by wrappings and her thin nightgown.

She looked…so much like the girl he had left behind decades ago.

Pero remembered Lady Daeryssa smiling down at her daughter, flowers twisted into her braids.

“You are special, my star. Like me.”

“Like you, Mama?”

Daeryssa nodded and grabbed the small, blue rose she had Pero fetch just that morning and pressed her thumb against one of its thorns until blood bloomed on her skin and started to trickle down her skin. Her face was serene and Pero could not look away. Her bloodied fingers pulled the petals from the rose and she carefully pressed them against her daughter’s forehead, sticking them to her skin with blood. Words he didn’t understand slipped by her lips as she pressed another petal and then another to her daughter’s face until she stripped the flower bare.

“You will be magnificent, my star. Your trials will be hard but you will always rise above.”

“Come in,” she said, setting her book aside.

Pero did as he was told and blindly set his hands in hers as she reached out for him, letting her tug him onto the edge of her bed. “How are you?”

“I will heal.” She smiled as if nothing had caused her pain and his chest hurt. “I brought you something.” She leaned back just enough to retrieve a small box from the mess of blankets.

The box was nothing spectacular, made from a polished dark wood with a simple latch and did not weigh more than his dagger. “How did you know we would see each other again?” He asked.

She only smiled and pressed the small box further into his grip. “Open it.”

And he could not tell her no. He unfastened the latch and felt his face crumple as he looked inside. His mother’s handwriting, still beautiful and tilted, drew his eye first. He grabbed the thin bit of parchment and unfurled it.

My dear boy- I love you more than words can say. You have saved us.

The rest of the letter was filled with anecdotes, telling Pero how the coin he had sent back home kept their family afloat and settled his father’s debts, allowing his mother and brothers to stay home and retain their titles and livelihoods. He had saved them. His mother had written it at least three times in her short letter.

But I still wish I witnessed you grow into the man you are today. Come home. You are always welcome.

He quickly let the letter curl in on itself again and shoved it back in the box, knowing she was watching him, face serene and almost unreadable. He reached into the box again and let his fingers brush against something cold and smooth. A shuddering breath pushed its way out of his lung as he pulled out a small, carved wooden wolf that fit in his palm. He raised it up to press the well-worn wood against his lips, just once, before placing it gently back into the box.

“You met my family.”

“I did,” she said. “They were very kind.” She paused. “And they smile so often. I almost didn’t believe you were related to them.”

He huffed. “You never let me have a moments’ peace, Petal.”

“You were the only peace I knew as a child,” she responded.

Pero sat with her for hours under their tree after her mother had disappeared and the petals remained on her face, only falling one by one after the sun had set, leaving little bloody thumbprints across her skin. He tried to press them back onto her skin without success, and she only giggled at his attempts, leaning into each of his touches and letting him try and try again.

She collected all the petals as they fell and Pero had given up on trying to re-stick them.

“What are you doing?”

“Practice.” He watched her reach out and scratch her palm against the broken bark of the tree, slicing open her palm in a single movement.

He squawked and moved to grab her hand but she curled her fingers into a fist, crushing the petals against her bloodied palm. She took a single, long breath through her nose and then unclenched her fist. The petals rose from her bloodied hand and floated up into the air as if pulled by invisible strings. They swirled around the pair before, with another long breath, she let them fly away, disappearing into the thick of the forest.

She laughed then, a light sound that had blood rushing to his cheeks for a reason he could not explain or pinpoint at that moment. All he could mutter as she looked at him, eyes twinkling and a giggle still on her lips was…”petal.”

“Why did you leave?” She asked as he tucked the small box away into his tunic.

Pero froze. “I had to.”

A/N: please let me know what you think! I hope you guys like this! there will be three chapters.

#oberyn martell x reader #pero tovar x reader #oberyn martell imagine #pero tovar imagine #game of thrones imagine #asoiaf #game of thrones #the great wall

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dapandapod · 3 years

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Jaskier needs a hug

Honestly, @the-glorious-half-pints-twin, this started out as your prompt and morphed into something else. Im intending to write your prompt more properly because it’s super cute ang got Soft Potential that I crave.

But this is not what brain did today, so this is looooooosely based on your prompt, with another on it’s way.

In the mean time, please have goofy random cuddles with a Dramatic Jaskier and Geralt with.. kind of a sense of humor?

Anyway, please enjoy! On Aoe here!

~~*~~

It’s been weeks. Months. Years.

Yes, Jaskier is dramatic, what do you want?! Point is, Jaskier needs a hug. Just a hug. Arms around him, or his arms around somewhere else. He isn’t fuzzy, but frankly, there isn’t too much to hug around these parts.

All the good ladies are taken (it’s not much of a problem but Geralt uses that unhappy frown on him for days if he goes for it), most of the men lack most of their teeth (not really required for hugging, but that is usually not their only problem) and in general, most people he met wanted hugs to go somewhere behind closed doors.

Not that Jaskier minds, but he really, really just wants a hug.

What’s left in options is various monsters, trees, Roach and that one Witcher that accompanies her. Yes, he is talking about Geralt, keep up.

Monsters, depending on the kind, would probably give him a great hug. Only once though, because he would likely die from it. To be honest, the trees weren't so bad. The trick is to choose correctly, and when Geralt comes looking for him he claims he is lost. It worked twice, after that Geralt tied a rope around his middle to keep him from straying. If he tries to hug Roach he will meet one out of two outcomes. If not both.

Roach will bite him. Or Geralt will bite him.

And that likely applies if Jaskier actually would work up the nerve to actually try to hug that giant frown of a man.

So yes, Jaskier is grumpy, Jaskier is dramatic, and Jaskier wallows in these two moods and expresses it like an artform. Drapes it around his being like a fashionable cape. Swirls it around himself as he turns, dazzling all around him with grump and drama.

He really doesn’t expect Geralt to pick up the root of the problem. That might not even be what is going in, but three days into moping (because let’s be honest, that’s what this is) Geralt tires of the entire thing.

They are watering Roach just a little way off the main road. Jaskier is sighing loudly, kicking at the leaves and high grass and anything that happens to stick up.

He still has the rope around the middle, courtesy of his latest try to hug a tree, and suddenly there is a tug.

“Stop.”

Tug.

“Quit it.”

Tug tug.

“Fucking… What?? Geralt??” Jaskier turns around, all flare, to give Geralt a taste of that glare he may or may not try to be copying from said witcher.

There is this really tacky dance move Jaskier has seen at very very late night festivals. When one person refuse to dance, and the other pretends to pull at a rope to bring them to the dancefloor.

Picture this, but nobody is dancing and there is actually a rope.

Geralt is pulling Jaskier closer, looking all serious and stone faced and how else you wish to describe that dumb dumb face of his.

“What are you- Why?! What are you doing?” Jaskier doesn’t struggle, but he doesn’t really cooperate either. Just like that dance move he ends up being dragged over to Geralt.

They stand only an arms width away from each other, Roach moved from the creek to graze at the grass, ignoring them completely.

Jaskiers pulse speeds up. Last time Geralt asked him to come closer and Jaskier blindly complied, he earned himself a punch in the gut. On the other hand, this time Geralt physically pulled him closer.

Should he...possibly.. maybe try to hug Geralt?

Before he gets the chance to try, Geralt grabs his shoulders with both hands and looks at him gravely.

“Jaskier.”

“Yes?”

“You stink.”

And toss him straight into the creek.

It’s not very deep, but it’s enough to completely soak him as he falls face first. He swallows one big mouthful of muddy water, he spits and coughs with loud protests and moaning.

“THIS IS SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME SMELL BETTER?! ARE YOU DAFT?!”

He rises from the creek like a water hag, water dripping from all of his expensive clothes. He marches straight up to Geralt, heart set on revenge.

Yeah, Geralt weighs a ton. Have you seen the guy? He is huge, and even if he isn’t traveling in his armor it is impossible to get a good grip. Geralt is entirely too good at steering off attacks.

Fine.

Jaskier doesn’t fear death.

So he marches straight back into that creek.

Falls into it, hugs it if you will, and turns around again all soaking wet.

Take aim.

Launch.

And throws himself at Geralt. Not in the intent of trying to push Geralt in the water, but with the intent to bring as much water on Geralt as he can. Like a sponge.

Either Geralt did not anticipate this course of action, or he accepted it. Kind of.

There is some slapping and flailing but then Jaskier presses himself against Geralt's side, wrapping his arms around his chest and clenching that stupid (and STINKY, Geralt! Take a bath!!) tunic and soaking it as best he can.

“Hah!” Jaskier is so pleased with himself, he throws a leg around Geralt and dries himself off like a dog on grass, rubbing his hair and face against Geralt's shoulder.

So it takes him a moment to realize that Geralt is laughing.

He stops, looks up in wonder. No, not looking, staring. Geralt is laughing, throwing his head back that gives him that adorable little double chin.

Jaskier doesn’t let go.

Of course not. This is way better than hugging a tree.

“Done moping now? Idiot.” Geralt puts a hand on his forehead and shoves him off. Jaskier is too busy staring at that smile to struggle. There are wet patches on his tunic so Geralt takes it off in a smooth motion.

“What do you say, we make camp here for today? Wash our clothes and clean up? I'm sure they will put away the pitchforks in the village if we don’t announce ourselves by smelling. ...Uh. Earth to Jaskier? Hellooo?”

Jaskier is not done staring. Smiles and bare chest will do that to a man. But he closes his mouth at least, so that is an improvement.

It takes a few minutes to get his brain functions back.

During that time Geralt takes off Roaches gear and she goes a bit further away to find more tasty things to eat.

They actually get around to bathe and clean their clothes. They bask in the warm sun, laying in the grass and just enjoy the nature around them and each other's company.

Jaskier seeking revenge probably doesn’t count as a hug, but he will take it. It feels a bit better and he is ready to hang the Cloak of Dramatics on the rack for a while and just enjoy the moment.

But again, Geralt surprises him.

As they prepare for settle in for the night, rolling out their bedrolls (with a respectable distance, thank you very much) Geralt sits against a tree and leans back.

Again, Geralt tugs him closer. This time by the tunic that he got to borrow, pulling him straight down between Geralt's knees and capturing him in a bear hug.

Two hugs. In one day.

“Uh… Geralt?”

Jaskier doesn’t dare to move, not daring to wrap his arms around the witcher. They are chest to chest, Geralt holding him in an iron grip.

“Yes?” Geralt mutters, holding him just a little closer.

“Are you.. Why are you hugging me?”

It feels like his chest is swelling three sizes, a tingling sensation spreading through his limbs, closely followed by a warmth.

“I'm not.”

It’s Jaskiers time to chuckle.

“Oh really?”

“Mmhm.”

Geralts offers up absolutely nothing, but Jaskier now dares to let his arms circle around Geralt's shoulder with a soft sigh. Not the restless, dramatic and grumpy kind that he did before, but a content exhale.

“I really needed this.” Jaskier admits to Geralt's shoulder There is no way he is telling Geralt, he has been behaving really badly today.

“No shit. I absolutely didn’t notice you hugging everything in your immediate vicinity.” Geralt drawls sarcastically.

Geralt's warm, callused hand finds its way under Jaskiers tunic. Little electric sparks climbing up his spine and he buries his head in Geralt's neck.

Up until this very point, this could very much be something one friend does for another.

Still could be.

But also not.

And if there is one thing Jaskier wouldn’t mind, it’s that.

Only, he is afraid it will go away if he points it out.

Jaskier has seen it one too many times before.

And Geralt is the one person he does not wish to lose. His heart is beating hard, with every breath he takes in the (now much better) smell of his friend, breathing him in deep.

“Are you sniffing me?” Shit.

“No.” Jaskier says and yelps when Geralt pinches his side.

“Fine, fucking… yes. So what. You smell good.”

Geralt falls weirdly quiet and Jaskier has time to have a small internat panic attack and prepare to be shoved away.

“You can sniff me if you want.” Geralt says quietly.

They are stock still in each other's arms. It’s an odd thing to do, an odd thing to say. Jaskier finally caves and pushes his face a little deeper in the crook of Geralt's neck.

Geralt's hands climb higher over Jaskiers' back, and he leans his head against Jaskiers.

“You smell good too.” Jaskier almost dies. “Well. Now you do. Before the bath, not so much.”

“Fuck you.” Jaskier chuckles.

“Nah. Would be real awkward in the morning.” Geralt says, and again they both freeze. Yeah, this is one weird night.

They don’t say anything more after this. Just sits there under the tree, listening to the evening birds and Roachs munching in the distance.

And if they pulled their bedrolls closer together, and slept with their legs tangled, and woke up too warm curled together, that is just what friends do for each other when you feel lonely.

Probably not.

But that is not a conversation they are ready to have.

For now, there are only hugs.

225 notes · View notes

baticorngirl · 3 years

Text

Title: “Dad, you’re embarrassing me!’

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationship(s): Talia Al Ghul/Bruce Wayne (Brutalia), Talia Al Ghul & Ra’s Al Ghul, Bruce Wayne & Ra’s Al Ghul, Dusan Al Ghul & Ra’s Al Ghul, Nyssa Raatko & Ra’s Al Ghul, Talia Al Ghul & Dusan Al Ghul,

Characters: Talia Al Ghul, Bruce Wayne, Ra’s Al Ghul, Nyssa Raatko, Dusan Al Ghul,

Summary: Bruce Wayne, an average (other than his parent's death) billionaire, was nervous. Very, very, nervous. It was a simple task, really, but meeting his girlfriend's family seemed rather intimidating at the moment. She has mentioned her father being strict or whatnot many times, and it had gotten many worries to arrive in his mind.

Unfortunately, Bruce had every right to be worried.

A/N: I don't own the characters, DC does.

This fic was originally made (or at least started) for @brutalia-week Day 4: Family. Since I wasn't able to finished it in time, I tried to make it a "day 8" kind of thing.... although I'm a teeny bit late for that, too, lol. It was originally just supposed to be a short humor fanfic, but... let's just say it got out of hand. Fair warning that some of the characters may be a teeny bit OOC (nothing too bad, though) because of humor or just plot-convenience.

For context, this takes place in an alternate universe where Bruce doesn't become Batman, but that's the only big difference. Anyway, enjoy!

Related Links: Read it on FF.Net (x), Read it on Ao3(x),

Day 1(x), Day 2(x), Day 3(x), Day 5(x), Day 6(x), Day 7(x),

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Bruce was uncomfortable. His tie felt itchy, and hot, like a fever that somehow didn't spread to his forehead. In fact, his whole body felt hot, and the tiniest bit shaky. Bruce's stomach twisted up in a knot, making his face turn visibly red with discomfort. His breathing was a bit quicker and shorter than normal. He was nervous. Very, very, nervous. But considering the situation, he had every right to be.

Talia and him had been dating for quite a while now. Over 6 months, actually. They met up when they could, and every time they went on a date, they started enjoying each other's company more, and more, and more. Talia often had things she needed to do, though, and they would often come up out of what seemed to be nowhere. She'd always say she just had an assignment from work of some kind, but it often occurred to Bruce that she never mentioned what she did as a profession.

Perhaps, today would be the day he found out. Now that their relationship was feeling more serious, Talia had finally decided she would introduce her boyfriend to her parents, and the rest of her family. It had taken some convincing for her to do it, but her father had been adamant that meeting and evaluating any of her potential husbands was necessary.

"What if they're not worthy?" He had insisted, pacing back and forth in urgency. "What if they plan to spy on you, or hurt you, or are simply a failure? Besides, my Dear Daughter, what's the issue with him meeting us? Please, tell me you're not seriously acting embarrassed of your own family at this age." Ra's stopped to look at her, a disappointed look on his face.

"I-" Talia hadn't wanted to upset him, or even worse, make her view her as immature. She sighed, "Fine, but please…. try to stay calm with him. Be understanding if he's not quite up to your qualifications of worthy, and…. Just try not to kill him, okay? You can be very overwhelming, and although he's a very nice man, he's not used to murderers." She had tried to put it lightly, but truthfully, she wanted to yell the list of commands in his face. It was ridiculous -absolute ludicrous- that she had to tell him such simple things.

"Of course, Daughter. Whatever makes you most comfortable." Ra's smiled at her, and leaned in to kiss the top of her head affectionately. Yet again, she was reminded by why she had spared his feelings, but quickly forgot it as he spoke again. "But you can't truly expect me to hide my whole personality, can you? I'll try to make sure there's minimal stabbing at the family dinner that night, but you can only expect so much of me."

Talia had stared at him, with her eyes squinted with concern, but she pushed a smile on her face regardless. "J- Just do your best, Father. Thank you." The minute she had gotten out of the room, though, her smile immediately dropped. She let out a huge, tired, sigh. She loved her family, but sometimes she just wished they could hold their murderous instincts in for a moment.

Now, as her and Bruce inched towards the door, Talia felt that wish more than she ever had before. Even if Bruce was nervous, thinking of the times Talia had mentioned her Father being strict, controlling, and painfully traditional, he was nothing compared to Talia. She flinched every few moments. Her every instinct told her to lead Bruce away, to come up with an excuse, but it was too late now. She gulped. Maybe, if she had the best luck in the world, her father would only talk about his Endangered-Species-Saving Programs, and not his Murder-Most-Humans program.

But when Bruce looked down at her, he felt a sense of excitement. He surely hadn't heard the best things from Talia about her family, but if they have raised someone as wonderful as Talia, he was sure they couldn't be too bad. He knew they may not have the most similarities, but wasn't caring about Talia the most important similarity of all?

Despite his slight optimism, inside the Al Ghul house, not everyone was on their best behavior. Screams echoed through the dining room as everyone got settled down. Nyssa and Ra's, specifically, were the ones having the heated argument. Heated arguments were not uncommon for them, so much that no one had any clue why she was even invited to the family dinners. She didn't even consider herself part of that family, but Ra's was convinced that it was such a special moment, no one could miss it. His little girl has her first boyfriend! Inevitably, he lived to regret this decision.

"You're a dirty excuse for a father, Ra's! You left me to fend for myself when I needed you most!" Nyssa yelled, standing up from her chair. Her breath was heavy with rage. "You should be ashamed of yourself!" She quickly picked up her fork, throwing it as hard as she could in Ra's' face.

"No, you should be ashamed of yourself! You're the one that betrayed me, before I had done a thing to you!" Ra's screamed back, throwing the fork aside. Fortunately for Ra's, the fork hadn't done any damage. He quickly pulled himself out of his seat to balance the dominance in their positions. "Everything that happened was your own fault, so stop pushing the blame on to me just because I blatantly decided you weren't worth saving from torture!" Unaware of how bad that sounded, he picked up the fork again and threw it back at her.

They continued throwing things at each other, screaming endlessly. The danger of the things thrown escalated as they went. At first it was simply things like forks and spoons, things that wouldn't do too much damage. But it started getting worse, and worse…..

Outside, at least Bruce was getting some kind of a warning. Talia stopped him just before he opened the door, turning him to face her. She stared at him, a glint of dead seriousness in her eyes.

"Beloved, you are not ready to meet my family. You never will be. They're a lot to deal with." She warned. Talia's hands gripped his shoulders even harder than a villain does when threatening a hero. "Every single one of my family members is weird. Very, very weird. A bit absurd, even. Albeit a nice guy, you're also only a simple billionaire, so it's definitely going to get on your nerves. They even get on my nerves, they-"

Bruce gently tugged her arms off of her, "Talia, I can handle it. I'm not a judgemental guy, I swear. It's fine if they're a little weird." His face rested in a blank, -but more importantly, not a horrified or angry- expression. "Come on, let's go inside. They're probably waiting for us." He pointed towards the door, beginning to open it. Talia, still frazzled, immediately swung her arms over to stop him from opening it.

"Please, Beloved, you don't understand! It's not a difference in culture, tastes, or even opinions! I swear on my life… they're crazy." She stared into his eyes. Her pupils were huge, and her hands were shaky as she held him back. "I don't care if you don't believe me, but just… promise you won't blame me for them?" Talia looked down desperately. Her words slowed for a moment.

"Of course," Bruce nodded, but before she could even communicate her gratitude, he abruptly swung the door open. "I've told you a million times, though, I'm sure I won't even be blaming them! You're worr-" The second he took his eyes off of Talia, and on to the room in front of them, his mouth dropped. Every word he said about it being fine was regretted almost immediately. It was so very, very, not fine.

Bruce had looked just quick enough to see Nyssa cross a final line with the throwing… a full, sharp, assassin knife. It shot directly into, and right through, Ra's' guts. Blood dripped down his stomach area and onto his shirt and cape. Ra's looked down at the injury for a moment, before quickly realizing that Talia and her boyfriend had officially arrived.

"Look what you've done now, Nyssa!" Ra's scolded, pointing to Bruce angrily. "Our guest has arrived, and you've done this right in front of him! Look at him, so startled at your audacity to stab me that he can't seem to speak…. Congratulations, you've embarrassed the whole family!" Bruce couldn't seem to listen to Ra's, with his eyes stuck on his stomach. Blood kept spilling out of it, yet Ra's hardly seemed to mind.

"...Are you okay?" Bruce took a slow, hesitant step towards the dinner table. His eyes were as wide as he thought they could go. "Shouldn't someone call an ambulance? You're bleeding out!" With the pure shock of it all starting to fade, he whipped out his phone and started navigating to the dialer.

Now dripping even more blood on the ground, Ra's pranced over to the front door to greet Bruce. "No, no, no! Don't mind my other daughter's ill manors. She's never well-behaved anymore, I'm afraid. But you're the guest, you shouldn't worry about this. Just sit down and relax." He led Bruce over to his seat, nudging him to sit down onto it. Ra's turned his stomach away from the chair to be sure he didn't get any little drops of blood on it. As he made his way back to his own seat, he gestured towards his stab wound. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to have to get changed and cleaned up. I'm afraid this stab wound has created quite a mess."

Still recovering from the shock of the stabbing, Bruce attempted to reason with him, "But don't you need to get medica-" Before he could even finish his sentence, though, Ra's was already out of the room and down the hallway. As hard as Ra's had tried to keep the floor from too much damage, there were still drips of blood every few feet. Bruce considered following them to make sure he was okay, but quickly realized that with all the servants here, at least one person would help.

Talia sat down next to him, surprisingly unstartled by her own father's stabbing, "Try not to worry too much about it, Beloved. This happens a lot -sometimes even ending in the opposite- and as you can see, it has never resulted in his -or even Nyssa's- death. Oh, and don't worry for your own life, the stabbing is very personal. I doubt Nyssa thinks you have enough of a connection with him to be worth hurting." She explained matter-of-factly. Her hand gently reached over to pat his hand, in an attempt to sooth him.

"Okay… I just, I don't want you to lose him. I don't want you to feel the same pain of losing your parents as I did…" His voice quivered at the thought of his own parent's tragic murder. Talia nodded, understanding his pain, but in no way attempting to agree with him.

"As I've said before, don't worry. I'm afraid my mother already died when I was a child, and her death frightened me, but him? No, no, no, he's quite the survivor. He's survived so many ridiculous situations, in fact, I believe he's practically immortal!" She exclaimed the strong statement, seeming a bit excited, but not quite cheerful. Seeing the statement as a casual joke, Bruce laughed nervously. Talia did not laugh with him, though. To his discomfort, she stared at him, just as dead-serious as she was with her original warning.

The sound of her father's pattering footsteps knocked them both out of their odd conversation. Ra's entered the room, his blood now nowhere in sight. Despite how formal the arrangement was supposed to be, he was shirtless. A new shirt, looking very similar to the one he was wearing when Bruce arrived, was tucked under his arm.

As Ra's started pulling the shirt on, Bruce noticed something. The place where the stab wound had been just a moment ago was perfectly visible, with no clothes covering it, and yet it just… wasn't there anymore. Certainly no blood, but not even any bandages, or any kind of scar! The only thing in the victim's gut area was skin. Pure, undamaged, skin. Talia's family was starting to seriously freak Bruce out.

Once Ra's had gotten his upper-half dressed, he promptly began making his more formal greeting to Bruce, "I'm afraid, with all that chaos, I never got the chance to introduce myself! I'm Ra's Al Ghul, Talia's father. You can call me Ra's…. At least as long as I haven't found you unworthy of casual nicknames." He narrowed his eyes, scaring away any joy in Bruce for the moment. "...And you are…? I'm afraid I don't think Talia's mentioned your name."

"I'm Bruce… um, Bruce Wayne." Bruce stuttered, trying to shake away the strong sense of uncomfort Ra's was starting to give him. Ra's smiled politely, and shook his hand.

"Welcome to our home, Bruce… Or Mr. Wayne, whatever you prefer to be called." He gestured to the grand mansion they were having dinner in. Having had enough of leaning over to be eye-to-eye with Bruce, he slumped back down onto his chair. His grand, collared, cape got thrown back in the process.

"..Bruce is fine," Bruce answered, still a bit nervous. Ra's nodded at him. Surrounded by a thick layer of eyeliner, his eyes seemed to stare into Bruce's soul. Bruce hated to judge someone for their clothing style, but the way Ra's dressed was certainly off for a meet-the-family type dinner. In fact, with the gold button on his cloak looking eerily like a demon's face, he was practically dressed like a supervillain.

Everyone began eating the food in peace. Nyssa did not try to stab anyone during that time, and neither did Ra's. It was pure silence at the dinner table, with everyone focusing purely on their plates instead of making conversation. Eventually, Ra's finally brought his head up from it and started speaking to Bruce.

"So… You want to marry my daughter?" Ra's asked, looking at Bruce sternly. His eyes carefully moved up and down, evaluating every single part of Bruce to see how worthy it was. He squinted at Bruce's jacket, his shoes, his expression… everything. As much as Bruce tried to seem calm and collected for Ra's, both the sudden assumption of marriage and the intense staring were only making him feel subconscious.

Fortunately, Talia immediately cleared it up, "We haven't even spoken about marriage yet, Father! Please, you're going to overwhelm him. Didn't I already tell you not to do this?" She pleaded. Talia gulped, just as she had been doing consecutively for this entire dinner. Watching her father act this way always felt a bit off, but having her boyfriend there just made it so much worse. She could easily feel what Bruce was feeling, -or at least what she thought he was- and she knew it was far from positive. Talia looked back down at her plate, hiding her face as it turned bright red. She didn't think she'd ever felt quite this embarrassed in her entire life.

"I apologize, but you do realize, Talia, that if you ever want your relationship to go anywhere you must marry him at some point. How long have you two been dating, again?" Ra's looked back at Bruce, waiting for him to finally speak for himself.

Bruce took a deep breath, "Somewhere around 6 months? Or possibly 7, it's hard to get it exact." Ra's raised an eyebrow at the number.

"You two… have not even been thinking about marriage yet? Let me tell you, every single one of my marriages has always started with a month -at most- of prior dating, and I have had at least one perfectly good marriage. You all remember Sora, may she rest in peace, and we had the happiest of marriages. Yet, we married out of convenience! We hardly knew each other! Sometimes, you young ones must just let-" Ra's rambled, only to be cut off by Talia sighing. The gush of air was so loud and obviously exasperated that it completely cut off his story. After a second or two of silence, he continued despite it, "As I was saying, sometimes you young ones need to understand that dating isn't going to secure a marriage. A good attitude will! Both Sora and I had a good attitude, and she managed to be the light of my life. But of course, that only lasted so-"

This time, Talia simply used her words to stop him, "-So long because she got strangled to death in front of your eyes. We all know, Father, and frankly I don't think Bruce needs to know your life story. Why can't we just talk about something a bit more.. Conventional? We already talk about murder and death so much, can't we just lighten up a bit?" She begged, biting her lip uncomfortably. Her eyes looked at Ra's softly, almost as if she was attempting to do puppy eyes.

"Fine, fine, I really should get to the point, anyhow. We must tell if he is worthy enough to even date you! Only the finest in the lands are worthy of you, my darling, and so far I doubt he's up to that standard." Ra's scoffed, and Bruce couldn't help but roll his eyes in return. Talia looked down again, rubbing her temples. She was just about ready to fall asleep on her father's nonsense. "Hmmm…." Not paying any attention to his daughter's misery, he stared into Bruce's eyes for what must have been the fifth time.

"He's…. Very….. Wealthy…." Talia stated. Each word was separated by a ton of sighs, groans, and deep breaths of frustration. Even as she spoke to her father, she kept her eyes locked down on her plate, in a painful stare. Ra's rested his chin on his hand as he considered her words. He looked side to side, while tilting his head every which way in correspondence.

"Well… I suppose a bit of extra money surely isn't hurting his worthiness." Ra's titled his head one last time, glancing up at Bruce from a different angle. Slowly, he adjusted his head back to normal. His arms were lightly touching down on the table, propping up his hands to wrap their fingers in between the other one. Ra's leaned forward, with his face now less than a foot in front of his hands. "But… you can already get as much of that as you'd ever possibly need from me. Worthiness, you see, is about much more than that. It's about the intelligence. The skill. The strength. The willpower…. The grace." His index fingers, now pointing up from the rest of his hands, tapped against each other. Each tap was methodical, rhythmic… like the ticking of a clock, clacking each second away.

Bruce felt a cold, thick, drop of sweat roll down his forehead, "I… I once took an IQ test. Mine is… higher than normal. Quite a bit higher, I believe." He picked up his napkin and quickly wiped the sweat off, attempting to push a smile onto his face. Or, just some sign of confidence, at the very least. Unfortunately, he was just a billionaire -and not a very emotionally-mature billionaire at that- so it wasn't exactly helping his case.

"Good. That's very good…." Ra's nodded approvingly. His index fingers tapped together again each time his head bopped up and down. Finally looking up from her plate, Talia started to smile, a glint of hope in her eyes. "But if you really have such an impressive intelligence quotient, you better start acting like it. Hit it where it really counts, not just some meaningless quiz. If you want to receive my daughter's hand in marriage, you will prove yourself worthy of such a thing in real life." His head's nodding quickly came to a stop.

Talia sighed again, but didn't even try to bother stopping it. Her mind was much more focused on the worse tests she reckoned would come after… the ones her beloved, as wonderful and skilled as he was, was still bound to fail. She glanced up at Bruce, noticing how wet his forehead looked. Her warnings had not done a thing, as even now, he was acting as if this was a big problem in comparison to the other thing her father most valued.

As she silently brooded, Ra's began to start his opportunity for Bruce to prove his intelligence, "Bring. It. In!" His voice boomed through the room as he looked at his assassins servants expectantly. To his dismay, they all simply stared at him, waiting for some more clarification. Their eyes blinked unknowingly. Ra's cringed at his servant's lack of understanding. "I said, bring. It. In!" Yet again, he got nothing brought in at all. A long, exasperated sigh, -almost as heavy as Talia's had been all night- escaped his mouth.

One of the servants, still unsure what to do but eager to help, went over and stood by his side. The servant bowed, but didn't dare ask for clarification. Not wanting to anger the master, the servant made sure to be patient and let Ra's have time to explain himself.

Ra's turned directly towards the closest servant, looking him in the eyes desperately, "You know, it. The thing. The one you should be bringing in right now. Whipping up out of nowhere." The servant nodded, but continued to wait for even more of an explanation. Ra's waved his hand in front of the person, unsure if they were even listening. "Come on! Get to it! Bring. IT. IN….. Ah, forget it! I was really hoping I wasn't going to have to ruin the suspense and the drama like this, but the chess board! The one I always pull out dramatically when attempting to test whether I should respect someone! The grand assessment!"

"Ohhhhh…." The servant slowly nodded. They spun on their heels, beginning to make their way off to get the chess board. Every breath Ra's took was long and agitated, gushing out like the wind as he watched the servant disappear into the next room.

He turned back towards Bruce, "I apologize for that mishap. It seems I really should just keep my chess board nearby in these kinds of situations, but I promise you, my assassins did say they'd have it handy." He scoffed at their incompetence. Bruce, on the other hand, was a bit more focused on another thing. He stared at Ra's, his eyebrows furrowing.

If this family wasn't already freaking him out, they certainly were now, "A… Assassi-?!"

But before he even got to finish expressing his frantic confusion, Ra's quickly interrupted him. These 'assassins' of his were back, now with the chessboard that he desired so badly. Ra's rapidly swiped the chessboard out of their hands and slapped it down in front of the two of them.

"Finally, we can begin!" He exclaimed, a tint of annoyance still in his voice. He turned back towards his assassins for a moment, gritting his teeth. "We'll talk about this whole 'ruining my drama' thing later. All of you." Ra's pointed at his own two eyes with two of his fingers, and then pointed the fingers back down on the League of Assassins members.

"And I think we need to talk about this whole assassi-!?" Still more focused on the other matter at hand, he persisted in attempting to get some kind of explanation. But yet again, Ra's was simply not listening.

"You may go first. It's only fair that the guest gets privileges. Besides, I think you'll need every advantage you can get when playing with someone who's been playing this game for centuries." Ra's pointed to Bruce's end of the board, waiting. Bruce's lips quivered as he stared at it. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Ra's folded his hands together calmly. "Go on,"

Bruce chuckled nervously, "You're exaggerating… right?" His finger slowly inched towards the board as he thought about his first move. It was a strategy game, and Bruce was good at such games, but the claims Ra's was stating were more than intimidating. He bit his tongue, thinking back to all the games he'd won against Alfred.

"Exaggerating? Oh, hardly." Ra's shrugged, "You see, young man, this game has been going on far beyond even an old man like me's lifetime. I've been playing it for a long time, and I haven't gotten bored. But I have, as a matter of fact, learned many, many, strategies. I'd find it incredible for this to even last more than 30 minutes before you lose." Bruce leaned towards the board in concentration, attempting to ignore the chills running down his spine.

After what felt like forever of them playing chess, Talia finally saw an ending as she looked at the chess board. All of Bruce's pieces were blocked, in some way or another. She sighed in relief. Not only was this game not going to last forever, but her boyfriend wasn't even going to lose.

"It seems we've ended with a stalemate…" Ra's grinned at the outcome. He pulled out a clipboard from under the table, scribbling down the points this gave Bruce. Quickly tucking the clipboard back under the table, a look of awe sparkled in his eyes. "This is… incredible. Quite entertaining, actually! I haven't had a good opponent like this in years! Decades, even… if not centuries!" Bruce smirked, a sense of confidence raining over him. Talia rolled her eyes. She had certainly stalemated with Ra's at least once.

"Good, but now, can we please focus back on the fact that you called these… people around us... assassins?!" Bruce shook off the pride as he finally remembered the eerie mention. Talia's face flopped back down to face her plate. Her breaths were thin and short as she held back the urge to stand up and run straight out of this embarrassment.

"I did, didn't I...? Is that a problem? Did I offend you with that term?" Her father's voice rose. Despite the innocent questions, he fought back the urge to roll his eyes or scoff yet again in annoyance. "Would you prefer them to be called ninjas, murderers, or simply 'the people around us'? …..You're the guest."

"Murdere-?!" Bruce leaned back, unsure how to even say such a terrifying word. His mouth dropped open as his eyes anxiously darted back and forth. "These people are really… actual….." Talia reached over to Bruce, squeezing his hand.

"Are you alright, Beloved?" Talia asked. Her hand was warm, or possibly even a bit fever-ish to the touch. As was her cheeks, so very red with nerves. Bruce stared at her face, observing the not only embarrassed, but almost shameful expression smeared across it. A thought suddenly occurred to him… a quite unnerving, but eerily plausible one.

Bruce sighed, "...yes," He muttered through gritted teeth. Talia's shoulders slouched down, feeling her tense muscles relax at the reassurance. Bruce turned back towards Ra's, pouting his lip in a disapproving frown. "But… I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to. Let's get on with it, Ra's." Talia's muscles tensed right back up.

"Very well then, young man," Ra's aggressively shoved the chess board to the side. He pushed himself up from his seat, pulling out a sword that he had apparently been hiding in his pockets. "The next test is all about your ability to fight. Not only do I expect you to protect my daughter if the need comes up, but you also must be capable of winning wars if you want to win my daughter's love."

Talia pulled herself up from her seat, as well, "He already has my love, though, Father! No offense, but your tests and evaluations are all for yourself, and yourself only. We've already dated for long enough that it's ridiculous to act as if we aren't already in a romantic relationship." She crossed her arms, starting to get seriously fed up with her father's absurd behavior.

"Yes, yes, of course. But if you want me to treat you as my son-in-law, much less, my equal, you need to complete this test. It's about the respect! You've already shown competence in a battle of wits, now you must show you are just as skilled in physical battles for me to respect you." Ra's pointed his sword towards Bruce, making a stabbing motion towards the air. Bruce flinched as the sharp blade reached towards his chest. "Go on, get your blade out. This may not be a duel to the death -since Talia did go out of her way to make me promise I wouldn't stab you- but it's still a battle that you need to be prepared for."

"My… blade?" Bruce raised one of his eyebrows in confusion. He shook his head and squinted his eyes at Ra's. "I was just trying to go to a formal dinner, to meet my girlfriend's family. Why. Would. I. Have. a. Sword. With. Me?!" After having to listen to Ra's constantly scoff throughout the dinner, he finally managed to gather the courage to scoff back.

"You must always be prepared, young man. Always. You are obviously immature. You know strategies, but you lack the true wisdom to use them properly. But, I suppose that is only to be expected with your young age, so…. I will still give you a chance." Ra's slid his sword back into his pocket. His lips rested in a strict frown, but began to curve up ever so slightly for a moment. "Besides, you already stale-mated me. I love a good stalemate! I can't believe I found someone who could achieve such an outcome! You're wonderful, Bruce. Just wonderful… Assassins, get him a sword!"

Bruce could only stare as a woman, dressed in all black attire, handed him her sword. He opened his mouth to reject it, but only a small, frantic, l uttering sound sputtered out. Everyone, including Talia, Nyssa, the assassins, and a man who's name hadn't been mentioned yet, stepped back, leaving Bruce and Ra's alone. Bruce slowly wrapped his hands around the handle of his weapon, still adjusting to the odd feeling of holding such a sharp object in his hand. By the time he realized what was happening around him, it was much too late to eat his last bite of food.

In fact, it was too late to even stretch before the battle. Ra's, who was seemingly having enough of Bruce's shock, was already lunging over. His sword slashed at Bruce's. With Bruce's fingers barely even holding on to it, Bruce's sword immediately got flung to the ground upon feeling any kind of impact.

Clang! The metal blade chimed as it hit the hard floor. The sound instantaneously knocked Ra's out of his intense battle-focus. His teeth were not gritted anymore, and his eyes widened from their stern glaring. He looked down at the stray weapon, then back up to Bruce. Now realizing what had happened, Bruce's face turned red. A tiny spray of sweat appeared on his forehead as he looked down with embarrassment.

"With all due respect, I have never had a weaker or less skillful opponent." Ra's blinked at the pathetic sight, shaking his head. He bent down to the ground and picked up the sword. The woman who it belonged to eagerly reached out to take it from him. Ra's turned back towards Bruce, who gulped as he saw the disappointment in his eyes. "I suppose I should've expected this kind of thing from such an average billionaire, although that chess game had sure gotten me hopeful. I mean god, was that a good game!" Ra's mumbled, holding back a smile.

Bruce sighed, "Let me guess, you want me to never date or even speak to your daughter again." He looked back at Talia, his shoulders slumping at the thought of leaving someone so lovely. But almost just as quickly, his shoulders pulled back up again. "Because if I may just say, this is completely unwarranted! You could've at least given me a warning about this nonsense…"

"You.. have a point." Ra's nodded, "Which is why I haven't completely ruled you out. That chess game still proves your utter excellency in nature, so perhaps it is rather cruel to blame you for this one time. But-"

Out of pure instinct, Bruce punched Ra's in the gut and kicked him to the floor. Ra's quickly jumped back up and dusted himself off, hardly bothered physically. But mentally, he was shocked. Talia ran to her father's side to make sure he was alright.

"Why would you do that, Beloved?" She yelled at Bruce. With Ra's obviously unarmed, she took a step towards her boyfriend. "You already weren't doing very well on his evaluations, so how do you think attacking him is going to help you?"

"I've proved I can defeat him." Bruce narrowed his eyes, still confident in his reckless behavior. Talia sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "He was doubting my ability to fight, but I've proved that I'm perfectly capable of throwing a punch or two. Since he's so obsessed with my fighting, it should help me be 'worthy' or whatnot." He crossed his arms.

Ra's rested his forehead against his hand, facepalming, "Yes, you got me on the ground for a bit, but at what cost? Ambushing may be a great strategy, and I already admitted you knew many strategies, but what kind of true warrior would use it on his own friend!?" He snapped. His large boots rattled as he stomped his foot on the ground. "A little agitation and frustration towards me does not take away the fact that you never declared us at war!" He began to stomp back to his seat at the dinner table.

"For goodness sakes, you're really going to lecture me about my morals when you've got a freaking assassin cult surrounding us!?" Bruce yelled back in return, "In my defense, when I see assassins, it really seems like anything I do would be in self-defense… Even if you weren't currently attacking me…" He argued. Every sense of nervousness had spiraled into anger.

"Exactly, we never attacked you except for a formal, well-mannered, spa-"

"Shut up! Can't you both just agree to disagree?!" Now shaking from frustration, Talia finally let her voice really rise and scream at them both. She tugged Bruce back to the table, and motioned for them both to sit down. "Apparently you're both a bit crazy, but two different kinds of crazy that apparently don't mix. I just- I just want this dinner to not be the worst experience of all of our lives…." As she settled back down into her own chair, her voice began to lower again.

Bruce and Ra's both begrudgingly nodded. Everyone's muscles began to relax, and their breaths were much slower and calmer. The ticks of an old clock clacked in the background as everyone went back to eating calmly. After a few minutes of peaceful silence, a soft conversation began again.

"I don't think you two ever introduced yourselves." Bruce pointed to another man and woman who were seated at the table with them. They had been simply watching and speculating as him and Ra's did their shenanigans. "You're Nyssa, right?" He pointed to the woman who had stabbed Ra's not long ago.

"Yes, and it's been quite amusing to watch him be kinder to you than he is to me." Nyssa sent him a cold glare across the table. He shuttered. "I'm Talia's older sister… or technically half sister, but you get the point."

Ra's quickly took up the introductions once she was finished, "Yes, yes, she's my other daughter. Much older than Talia, but nowhere near as wonderful." He smiled at Talia, who blushed uncomfortably. Being the favorite was better than being the least favorite, but it could certainly be embarrassing, too. Ra's turned towards Dusan, "He's… my son? I think. I'm sorry, it's been a long time since his birth, so I sometimes forget it even happened! His name is… hmm… I'm fairly sure it starts with a C…"

"It's Dusan, Father. It doesn't even start with a C…" The man corrected. He sighed at his father's forgetfulness. Ra's titled his head at Dusan, displeased at the answer. His expression was questionable, with an eyebrow raised, like he was about to question Dusan on his own name. Dusan sighed even deeper.

"I… supposed that's his name, then…" Ra's gave in, his tone still indicating his lack of certainty on the matter. He looked Dusan in the eyes, making direct eye contact, "But don't call me Father! You're hardly my son if I can't even remember my name." Dusan returned the eye contact with a look of sadness and disappointment.

"If it makes you feel any better, Dusan, I still consider you my big brother." Talia stated, smiling towards him shyly. Dusan shook off the eye contact with Ra's to send a bitter glare back to his younger sister.

"Oh really? Like I care, Favorite! One day, he's going to realize that I'm the better child and you're going to be forsaken considering how much trouble you've caused him!" Dusan scowled at Talia. She groaned, but stayed quiet in an attempt to avoid another embarrassing argument.

"Don't you dare speak to your superior that way!" Despite her silence, Ra's was far from quiet. He immediately looked back towards Bruce as he finished speaking. His speech was completely polite to Bruce now, as if the spontaneous attack had never even happened. "I apologize for his foul behavior, Bruce. It seems that sometimes immature children will act out if you forget to treat them kindly."

"Um… okay." Bruce squinted at Ra's, concerned but still confused. He was still certain that despite the uncalled-for attack, Ra's was still indefinitely the crazier one. But of course, in an effort to not upset Talia, Bruce kept this thought to himself. "I… suppose you must have another test for me, right?"

"Of course! Even though your manners aren't the very best, I will admit you did get me on the ground for a bit there, so… I still haven't counted you out. With a little teaching, you could be a very worthy man." Ra's complimented, "I'd just like to ask you a few questions, to get a grip of your personality just a bit better." He explained, pushing his food to the side.

"Go ahead," Bruce said. Despite his encouraging words, though, he was frowning in utter disinterest. He slowly pushed his food to the side to clear a path between them. Ra's pointed to Bruce before he asked the first question.

"How do you feel about the environment? More specifically, the planet. Innocent animals made endangered by man-made devices and pollution!" Ra's began. He eagerly stretched his hand over to grab a nearby globe, pulling it into his clutches. His thick, strong, fingers spun it nonchalantly.

Bruce thought about the question for a moment, "I feel bad for the animals. Since I have so much money, I've donated tons to helping them, and I feel the environment is a very important cause. I will admit I haven't done a ton of work with it myself, though…" He answered the question as truthfully as possible, figuring it probably wasn't too important.

"That's good… although I would appreciate a bit more enthusiasm for such an important cause." Ra's nodded, quickly moving on to the next question. "How about… murder? Assuming there's a good cause for it, of course."

Bruce froze, "Do I… do I have to answer truthfully?" He whispered into Talia's ear. She nodded, pointing towards her father. With a couple of her fingers pressed up to her neck, she made a cut-throat gesture. Bruce shuttered and shook at such a threatening signal, even if it was more of a simple warning. "I think it's horrible. One of the worst crimes imaginable. I would never commit it, even if it cost me my life. I don't think there's any excuse for taking another human being's life, no matter what that human being has done."

Ra's frowned at the blunt response, "But what if it saved other lives? The animals, which we've hurt so much with pollution's lives, perhaps?" He argued, continuing to spin his globe fidgetly. His eyes peered down at the bright blue paint, thinking of the dolphins, fish, seals, and whales that all inhabited that precious space. The space humans were constantly taking over, with their plastic, machinery, and oil spills. To Ra's, such horrid actions seemed surely worthy of the death penalty.

"I said no," Bruce shook his head stubbornly. "No one deserves to die, period. I'm not going to be persuaded on this." He glared at Ra's, starting to get more and more confident by the minute. Ra's glowered right back at him.

Talia sighed, "You know, Beloved… You didn't have to be this blunt about it." She leaned her head on chin on her hand wearily. Her eyes began to close softly, having no energy left after all the messes that had gone on. "I just didn't want you making up something too-good-to-be-true…."

Bruce rolled his eyes, "Well maybe I want to be blunt-"

"Well, I'd like to remind you that my father isn't exactly the person you want to upset!" She gestured back towards all the highly-trained assassins surrounding them. Every single one had belts with an arsenal of weapons tucked inside, and half of them had enough muscles to take down most people without the help of the weapons. "Only a fool would mess with such a man. After months of dating you, I hope I am not misled when I say you're not that much of an idiot."

Bruce gulped, immediately realizing his mistake, "I…. I'm sorry, Mr. Al Ghul." He looked back at Ra's nervously. He quickly tightened his tie and fixed his posture, hoping even that small of a change could make a difference. . . Whether that difference was a matter of life or death, or simply whether Talia and him were allowed to keep dating.

"You know... '' Ra's considered his options, peering at Bruce judgmentally. "That kind of rebelness does show courage, if you squint. I'll be fair and say it's bound to come in handy at some point in your life… so, I have decided that you two may keep dating. From what I've heard, you make my daughter happy, so I suppose I'd feel bad being too judgemental." He smiled at Talia. Getting up from his seat, he wandered around the table to kiss her forehead lovingly.

Despite the loving gesture, though, Talia was much more focused on the wonderful news this meant for her and Bruce. The minute her father was done giving her the kiss, she ran over to Bruce and hugged him. Bruce wrapped his hands around her as well, squeezing her against him.

"Thank you, Father," Talia turned back towards Ra's for a split second before leaning back into Bruce's hug. She rested her cheek against him affectionately. "You're alive. I can't believe you're still alive. Everyone's still alive…." She smiled, tilting her to the left to peck him on the cheek.

"Yes.. although I will admit it's a bit sad that we even questioned that.. Not that we didn't have the right to." Bruce glared at Nyssa and Ra's bitterly. Fortunately, they were both looking the opposite way. He really had to stop doing so much of this rebellious, impolite, glaring at those he was attempting to make fond of him. "But more importantly, we get to stay together! I knew I had made the right move by attacking your father." He smirked.

"Sure you did," Talia's smile twisted into a smirk along with his, "There's a reason he didn't kill you, though, Beloved. You were wonderful… and the stalemate? That's more than impressive. It took me my entire childhood of playing chess with him to start being able to get those! You're so intelligent, and brave, and… well, I'm just very glad I fell in love with someone as wonderful as you. Even if you did punch my Father." Her eyes softened for a moment, now taken over by a bittersweet gaze.

"...Thank you," Bruce smiled softly back to her, but it was quickly taken over by a more solemn, concerned, expression. "Can we talk outside for a moment, Talia? After all this, I think there's a lot we need to go over… privately." He nudged her out of the comfy hug.

Talia's smile immediately dropped, "Of… course," She stuttered, now remembering that Bruce had just learned tons of secrets in this one evening. Her head turned slightly back towards Ra's, "Please excuse us for a moment." Taking Bruce's hand, Talia led him outside to a nearby courtyard.

Once they got there, Bruce let out a long, painfully loud, groan. He flopped down onto one of the benches drowsily. Talia sat down with him, letting out a smaller groan herself. They sat there, with all masks and forced smiles dropped for an awkward minute or two. Their eyes were closed for the most of it, only flickering open every few seconds.

"I assume you want to break up with me, anyway." Talia finally spoke, her words slow and quiet above the peeps of nearby crickets. She stared straight down at the ground, neglecting to blink or let the aching tears stream out of her eyes. Bruce slowly looked up at her. Both their heads were still dropping forwards for the most part, but he peered at her from the corner of his eye. Another gap of silence stood between them before he finally opened his mouth to answer her question.

"...No, not necessarily." Bruce finally answered. He looked back down at his lap, avoiding any kind of eye contact. Her chin twitched upwards at the good news. But as he spoke again, Talia's chin lowered. "But… out of curiosity, if I did, would your father kill me?"

"Well… yes, probably." Her skirt gently flew up, caught in the airy breeze. She breathed in and out, as slow and soft as the wind. Bruce bit his lip, pouting ever so slightly. He swallowed in consideration. "But I would try my best to stop it from happening, Beloved. As much as it would ache me, I would never want you to die, of course. …..You could fake your own death." She suggested, finally lifting her chin enough to really look at him.

Bruce flinched, but kept his head down, "I'd… rather not do that." A muffled groan escaped his lips. Talia's lips quivered at the uncomfortable sound. Her head dropped again, spinning towards the opposite direction. As she turned away, Bruce continued thinking over his options. Everything felt wrong, but somehow right in an odd way. They sat in silence for another couple minutes as he fell deep into his thoughts.

"You promised," Talia suddenly blurted out. Tears had begun to well up in the corners of her eyes. She continued to look away from him, hiding the weak, desperate look on her face. "You promised you wouldn't blame me for them….. You promised." Her voice was careful as she attempted to keep her tone as calm as possible.

Bruce nodded, "You're right," He stated. For a second, but only for a second, did his voice crack into a much shakier tone. It pained him to look at her, to hear her faltering voice, and most of all, to know that she hadn't truly done a thing. At least, as far as he knew. "Your father's a criminal. The leader of a league dedicated to murder. So, with that knowledge in mind…. How many people have you murdered?"

Talia gulped, "You- You don't want to know." She shook her head shamefully. Bruce winced at the cold, gut-wrenching answer. "You and I both know you don't truly want to hear the answer to that question." She repeated. Talia pressed her eyes closed, letting tears seep out out and on to her trembling cheeks. Bruce was going to go. She was sure of it.

"Why…? Why would you-" Bruce stuttered. He finally fully lifted his head to face the apparent-murderer. Talia turned even farther away from him in response.

"Can't you see? My father is an ecoterrorist, Beloved. A mass-murderer. A genocidal maniac. I spent my entire childhood in his care… Of course I've killed for him!" Her voice rose a bit. Talia's eyes peered back at Bruce to see his reaction, but she didn't move a muscle in her neck to truly look at him. "I swear on my life, I didn't enjoy it. But I couldn't let him down. I still can't let him down. He's still my father, and… I can't betray my own family, can I?" She wrapped her arms around herself. A sad look sparkled in her eyes, almost mirroring the stars above them.

Bruce felt a tinge of anger run up his spine, "But…. you want to, don't you?" Talia's neck shook as her head flopped even closer to her lap. He moved his hand a bit closer to her, considering whether he should place it on her shoulder or not.

"Maybe I do," Talia whispered, her words barely audible. It was if she was simply mouthing them to herself. She squeezed her eyes shut as she spoke the tiny, quiet, little words. As she slowly opened them again, she gradually turned her head to finally face him. Their eyes met for a moment, "But maybe I don't. It's more complicated than that, Beloved ..." Her head still faced him, but her eyes broke out of the eye contact. They wandered in the opposite direction wistfully.

Bruce sucked in his lips, every muscle in his body cramping together. He resisted every urge in himself to touch her, hug her... or simply just reach a bit closer to hold hands. She was a murderer. He shouldn't have felt this way, he knew he shouldn't, but the urges were there. Bruce. Still. Loved. Her. It hurt to say the words inside his head, but not quite as much as it hurt to deny it. He kept his hand still, worried even a small vibration of movement could result in him fully wrapping his arms around Talia. But as he focused on stillness in his body, Bruce felt another hand reach over and squeeze his.

"All I know now, Beloved… is that I don't want to betray you." Talia looked straight at him now, adjusting her entire body to lean towards him. Bruce looked straight at her, as well. Her green eyes were glossy, with wet tears glistening in the moonlight. "We could still work out. My father actually seems to admire you, and I do, as well, but…. I'm not sure if you return such admiration…. After everything you've learned."

"You have a point," Bruce pushed himself off the bench. He began to tread forward, wandering around the courtyard. "I lose nothing from staying with you… except perhaps my lack of relations with murderers. It's not like I'm completely innocent myself. I may not have taken anyone's life, but I certainly started some fires against people who didn't completely deserve it. My poor math teacher…. Besides, I made a promise." He paced back and forth, gradually walking faster and faster|.

Talia sighed, "But that promise only included what my family did," She stood up with him. "They are my murders, not my-"

"Yes," He looked down for a moment, lost in thought yet again. His mouth rested in an aloof frown. Bruce's eyes narrowed. "But even then, it's more than clear you wouldn't be such a murderer if it weren't for where you were raised. Blaming you for such a thing could be considered breaking my promise either way." His hands spun up and down, gesturing as he explained his logic.

Talia's hand reached over to his, "Please… I'm not some kind of damsel in distress. I may have tears coming out of my eyes, and I may look pathetic right now, but…you still must make the choice that suits your heart. I don't want your pity." Her eyebrows arched, a stern focus taking over. Bruce's hands stopped twirling. A stillness crept over, with her hand just barely resting on his arm peacefully.

"-And I will not give you any, Talia," Bruce cleared his throat. Finally giving in to the undying urges, he wrapped his arms around her. Talia felt him pull her into a soft embrace. "Even through mistakes, and even, well... crimes, there is one thing standing. One thing other than pity- and that is love. It may make me crazy for doing so, or even a criminal, but I will give you mine."

"What does that even mean, though?" Talia asked, looking downwards. Her eyelids flapped up and down as she quickly blinked. "I… suppose it doesn't even matter, does it? Not now, anyhow… If you will give me your love, then I will give you mine." She quickly peeked back up, now with a wide smile across her face.

"I think we both know what that means, then… and what it doesn't." Bruce sighed, carefully taking a step back from Talia. Their loving embrace loosened. Talia's smile began to drop, but still not fully hit a frown. "I'm sorry. I… may have gotten lost in the fairytales there. Or maybe I was right. I'm not even sure anymore, Talia…"

Talia took deep breaths as she thought everything he was saying over, "You… you said thought we both knew what it meant… and what it didn't, of course. But perhaps…" Her hand, hesitant and unsure, began to slowly nudge him back towards her. Despite his overall reluctance, he easily let her lead him in the movement. "Perhaps for now… we can just focus on what it does mean, Beloved." She whispered the endearing nickname, a hopeful smile appearing on his face. Bruce couldn't help but smile back.

With their arms already wrapped tightly around each other, Talia slowly began to lean in for a kiss. Bruce closed his eyes, gently following her affectionate behavior. Both of their soft hugs towards the other one tightened even more as they leaned in close. The soft glow of the moon shimmered behind them as they finally kissed. Talia and Bruce held the other one happily. Happy. Even for just a moment, they were happy.

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vanilladyfics · 4 years

Text

Fighting Fate - Ch 2

Read Chapter One

Ship: Sir Nighteye x GN!Reader

Genre: Angst with a happy ending, Mutual Pining, Office Romance

Warnings: Slight Sexuality, Yandere if you squint

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Nighteye’s quirk predicts his assistant will die before the night’s end, but he’s not about to accept fate this time around.

Do not repost.

-----

Everyone knew you were upset from the hard clack-clack-clack of your fingers jabbing away at your keyboard. You looked up to wish Bubble Girl a good night on her way out. You smiled, but it looked more like you were baring your teeth. The two of you usually walked to the subway together. But not today. Bubble Girl got to go home on time. You got to transcribe case files from the Bronze Age. Lucky.

You risked a glance up from your computer screen. Sasaki was still staring at you. Or was he staring through you? Was he looking into your future right now? What was he seeing? You tried to ignore him as he'd been ignoring you these past few days, but you couldn't. All roads led back to Nighteye. The interns should be back from patrol soon. Would they be staying overtime too, or would it just be you and your domineering, soon-to-be-ex boss? It was a school night, so Deku would have to be sent home. Lemillion had recently graduated, so it was possible Sasaki would make him stay, too. As infuriating as he was, the thought of you and Sasaki having the whole office to yourself brought... possibilities. Your eyes flicked to the tickle torture machine. Your mouth suddenly felt dry.

You had barely taken two steps from your desk before getting chastised. “Where do you think you're going?”

“Just getting myself some tea.” You smiled. Always smile, you reminded yourself. You could feel him looming behind you as you filled your mug. His proximity and impressive height only served to make you feel smaller. Normally, you thought it was a good thing, but today it had a certain edge to it. Your heart throbbed in your chest. It was just the two of you in the office, but he was standing close enough that you could smell his cologne. You wished he would say something. Touch you. Or at least back off. Why was he standing so close to you if he wasn't going to do anything? The tension broke you. “Would you also like tea, Sir?”

“Please.” He seemed to take the hint, stepping away to grab a his own mug to pass to you. You didn't miss how his hand completely enveloped the mug. God, his hands are huge. You averted your gaze, trying to focus on filling your cups than how long his fingers are.

“Sugar?”

“Yes, dear?”

Your stomach clenched and you stared, gaping at him. 'Yes... dear?' Your face burned as your heart hammered against your rib cage. Did he think you were calling him Sugar? “I meant, 'Do you want some sugar?' For the tea.” Your face burned. Did you really just ask your boss if he wanted some sugar? He was a bit of a stick-in-the-mud. Maybe he didn't know what that meant. You glanced in his direction. Sasaki's face looked as flushed as yours felt. You winced, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole. But, he did call you dear, so maybe the feeling was mutual.

“Was that a Freudian Slip, [Y/N]?” He accepted the mug of tea from you with a smile, his long fingers brushing against yours.

You smiled back, pushing down the fluttering feeling in your gut. “It was just a joke. A little double entendre.”

“Of course. Your delivery is improving.”

You laughed, the tension slipping from your body. “Thank you, Sir. You were just playing along. That makes a lot more sense.” More sense than him being interested in you. Sasaki was your boss. What did you expect? Your life wasn't some romantic comedy.

“More sense than what?”

You were saved from having to answer by the phone ringing. “I'll get--”

“You are not to answer any phone calls until further notice. Do I make myself clear?”

You blanched at his new tone. The jovial atmosphere evaporated at the hard edge of his voice. “Yes, Sir.”

He left to answer it himself, leaving you to sigh into your tea. Sasaki sent your mind reeling every day, but today he was especially hot and cold. The door chimed, signaling Deku and Lemillion had just returned from patrol.

“We're back!”

You pressed on your temples, trying to will your headache away. They were young, but did they have to be so loud?

Lemillion phased his head through the kitchen wall. “[Y/N]! Are you okay?”

“My head's just been bothering me, that's all. No big deal.”

“Sorry, I wasn't expecting you to still be in. We'll be quieter.”

“Thanks a million.”

He grinned. “That is my name, don't wear it out.”

You groaned, but still laughed. Everyone you worked with had a terrible sense of humor.

The four of you would be staying overtime tonight. Sasaki had given you permission to use the company card to order dinner for everyone. You and the boys agreed on getting sandwiches. Sasaki said he had no preference, as usual. You went over the order list and dialed the delivery service.

The dial cut off mid-ring. Sasaki had his finger on the receiver button, hanging up before you could be connected. “What did I just tell you?”

“You... told me to order food for everyone.” Technically, he said not to answer any calls. You were making one, and at his request.

“Then order online. No phones. Got it?”

“Got it, Sir.” Did he have to embarrass you in front of the interns? Your eyes stung. For a hero, he wasn't very heroic. He wasn't even decent. Definitely not worth your infatuation. You pulled up the restaurant's website and filled out the order form, taking your anger out on the keyboard. Each time a more expensive option came up, you clicked it out of spite. Extra cheese? Sure! Guacamole? Si! Fresh-squeezed orange juice? OJ for all! You chuckled to yourself. So what if it was petty and immature. Take that, Mr. Hero.

The phone rang again. Didn't people know you were closed? You reached for it out of habit. You caught yourself when you heard Deku's breath hitch. The light on the monitor changed, indicating Sasaki had picked it up in his office.

“What's going on?” Deku asked.

“I wish I knew. He's been acting different for hours. I think he saw something with his quirk, but he won't tell me what.”

“Maybe... he saw himself telling you not to answer the phone?” Lemillion offered.

Sasaki's grip tightened around the handset, his knuckles blanched. “I already used my quirk today. I'm useless.”

Midnight's voice echoed through the receiver. “We don't need your quirk, we need you, Nighteye. He asked for you by name.” A hostage situation. Of course he'd get an emergency call after using his quirk. He should have known this would happen. Sasaki ground his teeth. He could see you through the office window, talking to his boys. He couldn't make out what you were saying, but you were smiling. That was good, right? He couldn't risk anything happening to the hostages, but he couldn't risk leaving you either. It should be easy. There were several hostages, and only one you. He looked at your future again.

His chest felt like a vacuum.

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

“You have ten.” She hung up.

“Lemillion! Deku!”

The interns sprung to attention. “Yes, Sir!”

Sasaki crouched to their eye level, his hands a burning grip on either of their shoulders. “I have an emergency call. You are not to let [Y/N] out of your sight for an instant. Is that understood?” His interns nodded in agreement, taking in his demeanor and opting to save any questions for later.

Your jumped out of your seat. Were these kids supposed to be your babysitters? “Sir--”

“I'll be back as soon as I can. You, stay.”

He was gone before you could object, his long legs carrying him out the door in an instant. You collapsed back into your chair. You needed a new job.

#sir nighteye x reader #Mirai Sasaki x Reader #Fighting Fate #GN!reader #bnha x reader #Sir Nighteye #bnha fanfic #Mirai Sasaki

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keanureevesisbae · 3 years

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Protection - Chapter 2

Summary: August might’ve made a pretty bad impression on Mia, however, will she help him when he has a slight problem?

August Walker x Mia Makaruku (ofc)

Wordcount: 3.5k

Warnings: None

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

The next morning I finally decide to do the smart thing: I get up at seven in the morning, to clean my apartment, start prepping some meals and work through the piles of laundry I have neglected these past few days.

Okay, I didn’t necessarily do that because I decided to be a productive woman for once and try to get most out of my day, but it is mostly because I couldn’t sleep anymore. I have been having nightmares since I can remember, which is probably since the fatal car crash that killed not only my parents, but also my brothers.

At least, that is what I’m told.

I remember crashing, I remember being out of the car and waiting for the emergency services, but I don’t remember my family maybe running away, their bodies being dragged away from me. They could be anywhere, really.

Dead or alive.

But ever since that crash, I have nightmares. Sometimes there is a loud crash or a fire I can’t escape or I’m drowning.

Usually I wake up at least once—but mostly twice—in the middle of the night, but last night I slept through. That seems nice, but I was woken up abruptly, since it felt like I was falling off a building.

While I’m putting the salad in the containers and I place them neatly in the fridge, I hear someone knocking on my door. This early? What idiot is up already and wants to bother me? I walk to the door and once I open it, a nasty surprise awaits me.

‘What do you want?’ I ask the one and only August Walker. After yesterday, I have decided that I don’t want to be his friendly neighbor. He hurt me feelings and doesn’t deserve anymore of my kindness.

‘My heater is broken,’ he simply announces.

And for that he knocks on my door? ‘Sucks to be you,’ I tell him.

‘I only have one blanket and my other clothes are coming in later this morning, just as the mechanic.’

I’m flabbergasted to say the least. ‘And you are sharing this information with me, because…?’ I know damn well why he is sharing this with me, but I’m not that easy.

August sighs, visibly annoyed. ‘Because I was hoping I could stay here with you for a while.’

I bark out a laugh. ‘Are you kidding me? After what you said to me yesterday, you honestly think I would let you in my apartment? I would be bat shit crazy if I did that. You insulted me, August.’

‘I barely insulted you.’

He has some nerves. ‘You said you hated women’s soccer to a professional female soccer player.’ I give him a do I need to explain any further-look.

‘You told me my moustache made me look like a pedophile.’

I cock an eyebrow. ‘That was only after you insulted me. Had you never been mean to me, I would’ve kept it to myself. But that is beyond the point, really. The real question is: why are you bothering me?’

He clenches his jaw. He probably thought that with his brooding look and broad build, he could intimidate me into letting him in my house. Well, he thought wrong. ‘I just want to stay here for a few hours, till eleven. I won’t bother you, I promise, but I’m really cold.’

I lean against the doorframe, as I check my watch. ‘That is three hours,’ I tell him. ‘I can barely deal with you for three minutes, let alone three hours. The answer is no. Just fuck off, will you?’

August wants to hold back a laugh, but fails miserably. ‘You sure mean that,’ he chuckles. I know I shouldn’t think like this, but he looks actually very friendly when he laughs, even if he is laughing at me. ‘Listen, I might’ve made a bad impression on you yesterday.’

‘You might’ve? Goodness gracious, do you have any self reflection? You definitely made a bad impression.’

He sighs, but almost has something from a growl. ‘It’s a few hours, Mia. What’s the big deal?’

What’s the big deal? This man has got quite some guts, it’s almost admirable. ‘Well,’ I say, incapable of saying no to him, ‘if I can get an apology, you can stay here. Saying sorry is not that hard, even you can do it.’

‘I don’t do apologies.’

Of course he doesn’t. I’m not even surprised. ‘And I don’t give shelter to my shitty neighbors, even if it’s only for three hours. Goodbye August. Please, freeze to death.’

I want to close the door, but he simply places his hand on the flat surface. Fuck, he is strong, those arms certainly are not lying. The battle August Walker vs Mia Makaruku is a quick one and not in my favor, I can tell you that. ‘I don’t want to freeze to death, so I’m gonna say this one time and one time only, so you better listen carefully: I’m sorry I was rude.’

I smile. ‘See, it wasn’t that hard. I also liked it that you really sincerely apologized, meaning in from the bottom of your heart.’

I know I’m pushing the limits here. August glares at me, but even through the death glare he is sending me, I can actually see some humanity in his light orbs. I actually feel a bit sorry for him. I know, that surprises me too.

‘Come on. Just don’t bother me too much and the second the mechanic is here, I want you out of my apartment.’

‘Doable.’ I have barely stepped aside, when he barges into my apartment. He has the audacity to plop on my couch, grab the remote and turn on the television.

‘Yes August, please make yourself at home. Do you want a coffee with that? Some homemade chocolate croissants? A fucking massage?’ I slam the door shut and when I look at him, I notice the smug smile on his face because of my offers. I let out a growl. ‘Don’t even think about it.’

Unbeknownst of the company, Bobo trots into the room. When his eyes land on the stranger on the couch, he arches his back with his hackles raised and hisses. I’m glad to know my furry companion thinks just as lowly of the—sort of—uninvited guest as I do. ‘I’m not a big fan of cates,’ August notes.

‘I’m almost assuming this is your first time you’re over at someones place,’ I say. ‘You sure know how to not behave yourself. If you don’t like him, go back to your own place.’

‘Okay, okay, I’ll stop. What do I do if he comes near me?’ August looks up at me. ‘Do I just hiss back?’

Thankfully I can manage to keep a straight face. ‘That’s an option,’ I tell him, as I walk back to my kitchen. Do I hiss back? It’s nearly endearing, especially since it’s coming from a tough looking guy like August Walker. I prepare my coffee machine and ask: ‘Do you want some coffee?’ While I don’t necessarily want him here, I might make most out of it. Besides, I can’t possibly imagine someone is as rude as him without a reason.

Maybe he had a shitty youth. I mean, I encountered my fair share of foster siblings and some of them were rude as hell, but when I learned about their family situation, prior to this foster home, I realized they had every reason to act like they did. While my coping mechanism is to charm my ass off and make a good impression on everyone (and I mean literally everyone), August’s way to dealing with his trauma’s can be to push people away. However, I do think he desperately wants to make a connection. Despite not totally getting it, he did come to me when his heater broke, so that must mean I’m maybe the only one who is trying to be nice to him? Give him a chance, while he might not deserve it?

Right?

‘Sure,’ August says, while keeping a close eye on Bobo, who stares at him with his back still arched. ‘What’s the cat’s name?’

‘Bobo,’ I answer him. ‘I got him from the shelter. Fun story: I was actually looking to adopt a dog, but when I walked passed Bobo’s cage, I couldn’t say no to him. Like it was an instant click between us.’

August doesn’t say anything, so apparently he doesn’t agree on this being a fun story. While the coffee is running, I walk back to the living room, but as I pass a mirror, I manage to hold in my gasp.

I look like crap! I’m still wearing my flannel pajamas that are actually three sizes too large for me and I actually don’t think I can call this frizzy mess on my head, hair. I also have not put on any moisturizer yet and it shows.

To kind of make myself a bit more presentable, I twist my hair in a bun, to sort of contain it.

Yesterday I looked pretty put together. Today I look like an utter mess. I can barely blame August for not taking me seriously. I plop on the seat and Bobo jumps on the armrest. The orange cat sits down, but continues to take August in.

‘The staring is making me uncomfortable,’ August mentions.

‘You seem so tough, but looks can be very deceiving,’ I chuckle.

‘That’s not funny.’

‘It’s hilarious, you should grow a sense of humor,’ I retort. ‘Okay, tell me something fun about yourself.’

August frowns. ‘Why on earth would I do that?’

‘Because I’m providing you shelter,’ I say. ‘Honestly, it’s the least you can do. Tell me something fun. There must be something fun about you.’

‘You have to give me more than that,’ he mutters. ‘I don’t like talking about myself and I certainly can’t do it on the spot.’

Okay, that’s fair, I can’t do that either. ‘From where did you move here?’

August lets out a deep breath, as I watch him caressing his own thigh. It almost looks like he is soothing himself. Is this question making him uncomfortable? ‘Montana,’ he says, but it’s not very convincing. Hearing from his tone, he doesn’t want to talk about it.

‘You want a pet?’ I continue trying to strike up a conversation. I don’t want to stare at him for three hours (not that I would complain about it, because the view is pretty okay, it’s just slightly weird) and I need him to talk, because otherwise I have to kick him out.

‘I’m not a big fan of animals. As a matter of fact, I don’t even like animals.’

‘That’s really sad,’ I say, as I scratch Bobo behind his ears, earning me some load purring. ‘Animals are very nice and you always have someone to cuddle with. Or doesn’t August Walker like cuddles either?’

He looks over at me, not amused. ‘Do we have to talk?’ he asks, expertly avoiding my question, sarcastic or not.

‘Yes, we do. If you don’t want to talk, ask me something and at least pretend to listen when I do so.’

August cocks an eyebrow, before he thinks about it for a while. ‘Are you ever afraid of life?’

‘Geez,’ I exclaim, ‘way to make it this depressing in the morning!’

He simply shrugs. ‘You wanted me to ask you something.’

I sink deeper into the backrest of my soft one person sofa. The question does make me think. I’d like to surround myself with positivity, ignoring the bad things happening in the world and not think about the darker aspects in life. I know that is not very healthy and you should be aware of the things happening around you, but it has helped me through tough times in life.

But when I think about it, about the uglier side of life, I realize one thing. ‘I am afraid of life,’ I say.

‘Why?’ he asks.

‘Because it can be scary sometimes. Unpredictable.’ The sounds of screeching tires, a loud crash and the car tumbling over all flashes through my mind. ‘It can be painful.’ Realizing how upsetting this all sounds, I grab a pillow from behind me and throw it to August. ‘Why are you so damn miserable?’ I ask him. ‘We should start the day on a happy note, not make it this depressing.’

August breaks out in a smile and when he does so, he looks approachable. Not like my shitty and rude neighbor, but like a nice guy. ‘Well, your questions were too generic.’

‘Yours are too depressing.’

For a few seconds we simply look at each other, before we both burst out in laughter. It’s nice to see August Walker like this. He doesn’t look stuffy anymore and he lost the arrogant glow. ‘Well, while you think of more lighter questions, I’ll get the coffee. You want milk or sugar in it?’

‘No, just black will do.’

I walk to the kitchen, pour in the coffee in two bright red mugs and hand him one. ‘There you go,’ I say to him.

He simply takes it out of my hand, but I continue to hold it. ‘What are you doing?’

‘One usually says thank you when he or she receives something from someone.’ I remember it clearly, when one of my first foster parents taught me some lessons in being polite. Back then it was said in a loving way. Now I recreate the entire scene in more of a mocking tone.

August rolls his eyes, exactly as I expected him to do. ‘Thank you,’ he grumbles. ‘You happy now?’

‘Absolutely delighted.’

◎ ◎ ◎

At eleven ‘o clock sharp, August left because the mechanic arrived. Not long after that, I had to go to practice. Because of the presence of my neighbor the entire morning, I actually forgot about having to train with Tristan on the side of the field. I wondered what on earth I did to displease coach Riley. Okay, I know she does this because it is for my own good, but for fuck’s sake, I have never felt so humiliated in my time I’ve trained with the Red Stars.

Thankfully the awful training finally ended and at around five in the late afternoon, I’m back at my apartment building. When the doors slid open, I see Harold standing behind the reception as usual. I glide through the hallway and manage to stop right in front of him on the other side of the desk. ‘Hello Harold,’ I say to him.

‘Hello miss Mia,’ he says to me, as he places his under arms on the flat surface of his desk. ‘You seem awfully cheery today. I thought you had to take it easy today during training.’

Am I cheery? My teammates said this to me as well today, before I remembered I had to train on the side of the field and now Harold mentions it too? I don’t really know why I would be— Oh no! Does this mean what I think it means?

Did I enjoy August’s company this morning?

Well, to be honest, it was actually quite nice from time to time. I have been spending most of my time alone in my apartment (actually all the time). I mean, I love my teammates and we hang out after practice sometimes, but they have their own lives, their own families.

I don’t want to intrude, though they invite me from time to time. It’s more that I’m scared to join them. What if they only ask me to join them, because they want to be nice and polite?

After we talked for a while this morning, August and I, we spend some time watching television. It was almost as if we were alone together and that felt quite nice.

‘Just woke up in a cheery mode,’ I say, though it’s not exactly the truth. ‘Is there any mail for me?’

He shakes his head. ‘No, miss.’

‘For my new neighbor then?’

Harold shakes his head again. ‘How is he anyways? Heard about his heater being broken.’

I smile. ‘Well, he quite nice actually. Bit stuffy, like you said, but once you get to know him, he can be nice from time to time.’

‘Is that why you are cheery?’ he asks.

‘What?’ I exclaim. How did Harold guess that right away? Yes! ‘No, what on earth would give you that impression?’

Harold tries to keep a straight face, but he fails and I realize I’ve been caught red handed. ‘Well, miss Mia,’ he says, thankfully not adding any fuel to this disastrous situation, ‘I’m glad to know that you manage to make even him likable. You are a very special lady.’

‘Right,’ I say, after I cleared my throat. ‘I’m gonna go. See you later, Harold.’

He chuckles. ‘Later, miss.’

When I step out on the right floor, I let out a deep sigh. Is it true? Am I cheery because of August Walker? Who would’ve guessed. When I pass his door and I fumble with my keys, I hear a door open. I look to my side and see August stepping into the hallway.

‘Good afternoon, neighbor,’ I say to him. ‘How are you?’

He doesn’t smile and the nice August I saw every so often this morning, has disappeared into thin air. While I want to be annoyed by it, I can’t help but notice to see the slight pain in his eyes. I saw it this morning and I see it now. From the looks of it, he is hurting and I relate. I know how it feels.

But what I also know is that deep down there is a lovely soul, it’s just protected by a very thick wall.

‘Good afternoon,’ he hums. ‘I realized I took this from you.’ He holds out the red mug I handed to him three times this morning. This man gulps down coffee as if it is water and for a second I was genuinely concerned he would have a caffeine overdose.

He seems to have managed just fine.

‘Oh, thank you,’ I say as I take it from him when he stepped closer to me. ‘I probably wouldn’t have missed it. I have way too many mugs, but thanks anyways.’

The way August is hot and cold within a matter of seconds, is something I should put up with from now on. I have decided to give this man with some pretty poor social skills the benefit of the doubt. Besides, I actually quite enjoy having him around.

No wonder I was cheery today.

August buries his hands in his pockets and is probably waiting for me to say something.

‘Your heater fixed?’ I ask.

He simply nods. ‘Yes, all good now.’

Is he waiting again for me to say something? This man… Before I can even think about the pros and cons of my very impulsive idea, I ask him: ‘Do you have plans tomorrow night?’

‘I don’t,’ he says, before he frowns. 'Why?’

‘I have two tickets for a Bulls game.’

He looks confused. ‘A what game?’

‘Bulls game. Chicago Bulls. Basketball,’ I clarify. ‘I mean, you can go with me if you want.’

‘And why would I want to do that?’

‘Because I’m the loveliest neighbor and human being for that matter, you have ever encountered in your life and you desperately want to spend more time with me.’

August doesn’t smile. Maybe he is conflicted, because he occasionally let his guard down this morning.

And maybe this question is way too much. I don’t really understand I was questioning his social skills this morning, while I’m out here overstepping all sorts of boundaries.

‘Sure,’ he however says to my surprise. ‘I can’t really think of worse things to do tomorrow.’

‘You’re such an asshole,’ I tell him. ‘You were quite nice this morning in my apartment. What changed?’ I don’t give him time to answer. ‘Oh wait, I think I get it. It’s this hallway that turns you into a complete asshole.’

‘You can still un-invite me,’ he says, with an amused glimmer in his eyes.

‘I can do that of course, however believe it or not, I barely have friends and the few I have, all have their own social circles and don’t like to go to Bulls games.’

‘Then why did you purchase two tickets?’

‘Because it was cheaper to buy two tickets and I’d like to live up to the stereotype that the Dutch are stingy cheapskates.’

‘I can tell you, Mia, it’s working,’ he says. ‘Someone without friends who want to go to Bulls games with her, purchases two tickets, simply because it’s cheaper.’

I stick out my tongue. ‘Well, whatever. It starts tomorrow at six and it’s within walking distance from here. You have time?’

‘I sure do.’

‘And you still want to go with me?’

He nods.

‘Well, see you tomorrow then, August.’

He looks at me, a long and intense stare, before he says: ‘See you tomorrow, Mia.’

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #Henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill x soccer player #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill x mia makaruku #august walker #august walker x ofc #august walker x asian ofc #august walker x oc #august walker x mia makaruku #august walker x soccer player #fic: protection #asian ofc #mia makaruku

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shinidamachu · 4 years

Text

No Place I Would Rather Be

Summary: We're a thousand miles from comfort. We have traveled land and sea. But as long as you are with me, there's no place I'd rather be. Word Count: 3.617 Genre: fluff Fandom: InuYasha Pairing: Inukag Format: oneshot AO3 Link: 🌹 Fanfic.Net Link: 🌹

Boredom was eating him alive.

Days had passed without a single lead about the jewel fragments. So much that their little group had disbanded for the time being. Sango went back to what was left of her old village. It had been a while since she last paid homage to their dead. Kirara, of course, was her loyal company — and also ride. Miroku was visiting Mushin’s Temple, as if the place hadn't been profaned enough, already. Shippo was still around, but keeping his distance due to InuYasha’s stormy mood.

The frustration of it all got him desperately wishing for some kind — any kind — of action. Something that didn’t involve sulking under a tree and watching time crawl. Every second of this idleness meant another second Naraku was out there, still breathing. Collecting the shards was a small mean to achieve a bigger, imperative ending. It gave him purpose, a sense of getting closer to his ultimate goal step by step. Waiting got them nowhere. It only granted him to be alone with his thoughts and the combination was nothing but disastrous.

Lucky for him, his private source of distraction was not too far away.

Kagome was humming a foreign tune, the same one she liked to sing whenever she was happy. Following the melody was almost mandatory. InuYasha didn’t realize what he was doing until he arrived to the other side of it, where the girl thumbed through her hair in a futile attempt to tame her hair, the lake’s surface a natural mirror at her convenience. InuYasha made his presence known before his own reflection joined hers.

“It’s no use, ya know.”

“Jerk!”

The girl glared at him and retaliated by splashing water on his direction — of which he easily dodged. InuYasha had to admit her reaction was justified, given his past tendency to be utterly unkind to her. This time, however, although his tone wasn’t devoided of casual teasing, he was being completely honest. When you spend sunrise to sunset with someone for so long, it was inevitable learning a thing or two about them. Kagome had a wild hair. Not in a bad way, but it sure had its own will. Especially in the humidity, which was definitely the case of that afternoon. To an outside viewer, the strands could pass as straight. Noticing the shy waves at the end and how they used to stand out after getting wet was a privilege for the few allowed to look closer — a privilege InuYasha cherished. She always had her hair down and he liked that she did. It was destined to be free, to go with the wind. And it had grown a hell of a lot since they first met. The half demon wondered if Kagome was aware of how much. He certainly was.

Then she got up, revealing clothes that were undoubtedly new to his eyes. It was one piece, all lime flowers and malleable fabric against her cream skin. A bit longer than what she usually cared to wear, but leaving her arms and shoulders at plain sight in compensation. The view was thrilling, until his eyes caught the yellow backpack laying by her feet, causing his grin to falter. He understood the implication behind it, even if the question had yet to pass his lips.

“What’s with the weird kimono?”

“Oh, this.” Kagome lowered her gaze, inspecting for herself. Her combative attitude swiftly turning into a cautious posture. “It’s a sundress. I’ve been meaning to ask… can you please give me a ride to the well? I’m going home.”

There it was.

Somehow, getting his suspicions confirmed did nothing to prevent the scowl from forming on his face.

“Thought the school thing were over for the summer.”

“Well, yes...”

“Then why the fuck ya going home for? We still have plenty of supplies!”

“Because I promised I’d go to the movies with Hojo and now that we’re on vacation I don’t have excuses not to go, anymore. My grandpa literally ran out of diseases I could have. And what’s the point, anyway? Jewel hunting is going through a dry spell, everyone left… and I haven’t seen my family in weeks.”

Half of what she said didn’t make any sense to him and InuYasha positively hated the half that did.

“What if something comes up? I can’t see the damn shards like you do.” He argued.

“You jump through the well and get me.” She shrugged, as if the idea was highly unlikely. InuYasha opened his mouth to list the many, many reasons her solution was flawed. She bit him to the punch. “Listen, it’s not a big deal. I’ll be back tomorrow. I bet Miroku and Sango won’t even be here yet.”

It wasn’t fair.

In general, storming off to her era was Kagome’s way of punishing him for being a massive asshole. He got that. To tell the truth, more often than not he deserved it. But InuYasha was in his best behavior — despite feeling rightfully entitled to throw a tantrum, given the circumstances — precisely because he needed her close. He needed her to stay. Picturing Kagome hanging out with someone else instead was the worst kind of self torture. Would she change her mind if he swallowed his pride long enough to say so? Would he ever get the guts to let it out? She hadn’t invited him to come along. Was this Hojo guy really that important to her? More than InuYasha was? Trying to talk her out of it was a dangerous move. He’d put his foot in his mouth, she’d put his face on the ground. That’s what they did.

Either his expression betrayed the turmoil inside or Kagome became too good at figuring him out. Whatever it was, her smile shined, reassuring and warm.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be so quick, you won’t have time to miss me.”

“Who says I’d miss ya?” He dismissed, his indifference unconvincing even to himself.

InuYasha perceived another presence approaching. Shippo. His arrival couldn’t be more providential. Kagome had a soft spot for the brat. If anyone could get her to stay, it was him.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just the runt.”

Like he had been announced, the kid emerged from the trees in a hurry, Kagome’s bow and quiver looking gigantic on his tiny hands.

“Kagome! InuYasha!”

“Shippo-chan! What’s going on?” She asked, as soon as the boy reached them.

“There are rumors of a jewel fragment, two villages to the west.” He explained, with the pomposity the information called for. “Kaede sent me.” His chin was up high, like the statement added a final hint of importance to the message. “Here,” continued the kit, offering Kagome her weapon in a formal manner.

She hesitated.

“Kagome, let’s go!” InuYasha was prepared to move at the sound of the word ‘jewel’, their earlier argument happily buried and forgotten.

“Wait! Don’t you think it’s strange? For days we had no leads, and now, just when we splitted up…”

“Yeah, well, so what if it’s a trap? It wouldn’t be the first.”

Coward that he was, Naraku resorted to the nastiests schemes in order to get what he wanted. His disgusting fingers laid on every happenstance that had ever caused them harm. What choice did InuYasha have, though? Ruse or not ruse, he had to check it. Regardless of anyone else’s help, it was his duty to get vengeance on the bastard — for Kikyo, for himself — and Kagome knew that.

She sighed and took the bow and arrows from the fox’s hold.

“Thank you so much, Shippo-chan! Now can you do me another favor?”

“Anything!”

“Go back to Kaede. Tell her InuYasha and I are on our way.”

“I’m not coming with you?” He whined, as confused as InuYasha. They never traveled without the child.

“That’s right. We don’t know how dangerous this may be. I need you to stay and if we don’t come back tomorrow by noon, get Miroku and Sango and send them to us. Can you do that for me?”

Shippo resolutely nodded .

“I won’t let you down, Kagome.”

“I know you won’t.”

And through the same path he had appeared he went. Kagome fixed a pleading glance at InuYasha.

“Can I at least change clothes before we g—”

“No time to waste.” He said, grabbing Kagome and her bag to leap towards west.

Kagome was whistling that same song again.

It took him an enormous amount of self restraint not to whistle along.

He was happy. So wonderfully happy. It was astonishing, the effect that tiny, bossy human girl had over his humor. The fact they were following the possible whereabouts of a lost jewel piece also played a role on his attitude swing, there was no denying that. But even if this turns out to be nothing at all, it would be a small price to pay in exchange of spending more time with her.

“Weren’t you mad about not coming home just now?”

His curiosity was genuine. Kagome had been angry since they left and InuYasha would be the person to know. She had two kind of anger. The one he could hear and the one he could feel. Even though she had been unusually silent, her frustration was palpable at first. Mercifully, it seemed to fade away the more ground they covered. Her one complaint was the soreness that too many hours on the same position inflicted upon the muscles, which was why they were both walking. As a rule, he was strictly opposite to anything that might slow them down, and the human pace was unbearable once you had a taste of demonic speed. Running free, with trees and people alike turning into a blur on each side of him, was an unparalleled sensation, amplified tenfold whenever Kagome was riding his back. He didn’t regret giving in, though. They weren’t far from their destination, after all. In addition, her comfort came to be a priority, despite him still being unaware as to when or how.

“Well… yeah, but… what can I do, right? Besides, I haven’t realized how much I missed this.”

Clueless, InuYasha searched their surroundings, unsuccessfully intending to spot what she could possibly be referring to.

“Whatcha talkin’ about?”

“This!” She spinned around, open arms and face to the sky, chasing daylight like a sunflower, the movement bringing her garment to life. “You. Me. An adventure. Don’t get me wrong, I love Shippo and the others, I’m glad they joined us. It just feels like we haven’t had as much quality time together as we used to, after they did.”

“Y-you miss that?”

She shook her head up and down with enthusiasm and a content smile fought its way across his lips.

“I know we could hang out in Kaede’s village, but it’s not the same as going out. O-on a trip, I mean.”

Although InuYasha couldn’t make out why her cheeks were suddenly burning red, he did see the logic her reasoning, and the feeling was mutual. There was a certain level of closeness only the road could provide. No curious eyes. No sly comments. No need to explain themselves. InuYasha had missed that as well.

He often played with the thought of stealing her away, of placate his selfish thirst for her undivided attention. Not once had he imagined Kagome would be as eager to go as he was to take her. Regardless, the timing wasn’t right. It never was. From the moment they met, they were tossed into a mission and there was hardly space for anything else. So he settled for whatever he could get until it was over.

“Why would you miss those trips? It ain’t like I was nice to ya back then.”

It didn’t make sense to him that she would. His memories were of a spoiled little girl, complaining about the bugs and her aching legs and the fact she hadn’t bathed in days. There was no escaping InuYasha’s share of responsibility on the issue. He could have made her life easier, had he bothered to. But at the beginning he saw Kagome as a potential threat he would eventually get rid off. How could he have guessed, after the many betrayals he had endured through the years, that his heart would be safe on her hands?

Kagome limited herself to a shrug.

“You are now.” She stated, as if it made up for his unexcusable former behavior. Her unconditional forgiveness amazed him, no matter how regularly she had shown it to him. “Also, it feels like old times.”

“It doesn’t unless you get kidnapped, somehow.”

“It happened once or twice!”

“Keh! Stop kidding yourself.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“No, shut up. I’m sensing a shard and it’s moving away.”

Wordlessly, InuYasha returned the backpack to her and offered her his back.

They raced at full gallop, Kagome guiding their course. The forest transitioned into arid highland, where dirt, thorns and rocky surfaces took place.

“Hey, you!” Kagome yelled at the youkai emerging in their camp of vision. Their target. Over his shoulder, the startled creature sneaked a peek at them and increased speed. Growling, InuYasha matched his rhythm. “Wait up! We won’t hurt you.”

“I’m pretty sure Imma hurt him.”

“Give the jewel fragment to us peacefully and you’ll be free to go!” She went on, his snide remarks as ignored by her as her plead was by the demon. InuYasha’s patience was wearing thin. Now that the rumors turned out to be true, his focus was entirely aimed at the task at hand.

“Are those fancy arrows of yours just for show?”

Kagome let out a deep breath. Shooting was her last ressource. She preferred to sort things out with words first. It rarely worked. Still she always tried.

“I suppose we have no choice.”

The arrow hit the creature in the calf and his groan of pain reverberated through the field. Not lethal, but enough of a nuisance to make him drop the run. InuYasha closed the distance between them within seconds. Kagome climbed off him and together they inspected their opponent.

On the floor, a possum demon hissed and exhibited his fangs at them, his ugly face twisting in agony while he pulled the arrow out. A cascate of blood immediately flowed from the wound. InuYasha was not fooled by it. Being a full youkai, he would be healed soon.

“Where is it?” InuYasha asked Kagome, not daring to leave the bastard out of his sight.

“His belly.”

“Step away, you filthy half breed!”

“Excuse me?” Kagome defied, any trace of courtesy forgotten.

“That was quite the damage she did on ya, there.” InuYasha released Tessaiga from its sheath as he approached the fallen man. “Think I can top it, though.”

“Step away, I said!”

His fear was palpable. InuYasha could feel it. See it. Smell it.

Smell it.

Faster than realization, the odor filled his lungs. It burned his nostrils, his throat. He could taste the toxic substance on his tongue. It was unbearable. And gasping for air only resulted in the pungent scent flooding him further, overwhelming his senses. A defense mechanism, he thought, his vision blurring, his knees giving in. I’m going to faint. No. No, no, no, no, no. Kagome. He had to protect Kagome.

There was a cry of his name.

And then an awful lot of darkness.

InuYasha came to abruptly, uncertain and alarmed by the new reality.

In one minute, the sun was up and he was succumbing, his consciousness leaving him to drift. In the next, he was awake and crickets sang the night’s arrival.

It was tempting to think he had dreamt the whole thing. A stupid, ridiculous, crazy ass dream. However, the lingering smell left no room for argument. It happened. The scent was weaker. Fading. But was there, overpowered by a significantly nicer aroma. A familiar one, sweet on the nose and soothing to the soul. Kagome’s.

He was lying half naked in her sleeping bag.

Sitting up, InuYasha seeked for the priestess, desperate to make sure for himself she was safe and sound.

The fragile light of her modern lantern illuminated the cavern that sheltered them. At its entrance, a girl rested — her silhouette contoured by a starry sky.

“Kagome.”

“You’re awake!”

She rushed to him, tripping over her own eagerness. Her beautiful clothes were dirty and a bit ripped at the hem. A small scratch cut her cheek, remnants of dry blood tainting her skin.

“Are you alright? What happened?”

“I’m fine!” Kagome kneeled in front of him, a gesture he appreciated. There was no peace for him without an up close inspection of her well being. “I purified the demon after you blacked out. Turns out it was a trap. Thousands of Naraku’s second-class demons came for the shard when I took him down. I tried to purify those too, but more of them kept coming and I ran out of arrows, so I casted a barrier and—”

“You casted a barrier?”

InuYasha was beyond impressed. Barriers required great power and discipline. Even from Kaede or the monk. Kagome had apparently done it all by herself. Effortlessly. On the spot.

“To be honest, I don’t know how I did it. I just… I saw you lying there and I… anyway, the barrier purified the ones who touched it. Eventually they all died or left. How are you feeling?”

InuYasha didn’t answer the question.

“I’m sorry, Kagome, that you couldn’t rely on me.”

Guilt pulsed within him like a heartbeat. Constant and compulsory, expanding the outcomes of its work through every inch of his body.

“It’s not your fault. Your nose is too keen, of course you’d be affected the most.”

“But you got hurt!”

“In the thorns. I was careless. Don’t worry about it, it’s not even going to leave a scar.”

“It shouldn’t have even happened. I’m supposed be the one protecting you, not the other way around.”

It could have been worse. InuYasha should be grateful for that. He wasn’t. It could have been worse. And he wouldn’t be able to help her, to save her from this insignificant peril while she had already saved him in every conceivable way there was for a person to be saved.

“I’m not as helpless as I used to be, you know? I’ve grown a lot.” She had a point. InuYasha himself had told her that much, once. Kagome had faced scarier dangers than that. And she could absolutely take them. But he didn’t want her to have to. “Not to mention, it was totally worth it.”

As a proof, she exhibited a jewel fragment, glowing in the healthiest shade of pink.

“You got it!” InuYasha captured the shard, glancing at every angle of it in awe.

“Don’t act so surprised.”

Kagome went for her backpack and came back, falling on her knees again. Her hand dove in and emerged holding the glass container in which they kept the other pieces. She opened it and tilted the receiver to InuYasha, hinting for him to do the honors.

It was as if she had been waiting for him so they could do it together.

As if it was their private, sacred ritual.

He did as she wanted, mirroring her satisfied smile.

“Where’s my haori?”

“Oh! I… I put it away.” Blushing, Kagome tore her gaze from his and InuYasha followed it to a corner of the cave, where a huddle of scarlet fabric laid forgotten. “I figured you’d heal faster with that smell gone and your haori is soaked on it. Sorry.”

“D-don’t apologize, stupid. It was the right call.” To feel useful — and to occupy his brain with something other than the image of Kagome undressing him — InuYasha searched her backpack for the first aid kit, a tool from her era he was sadly too intimate with. “Now let’s take care of this cut.”

“Okay. You have to g—”

“I know what to do. I’ve seen you do it a thousand times.” Her lips parted, and InuYasha added: “Don’t act so surprised.”

He cleaned the wound with cotton, water and soap, then used a different ball of cotton to carefully apply the content of a smelly little bottle to the extension of it. Kagome hissed, but he ignored it in favor of wrapping it all up with a band-aid. To ensure it was properly stretched, he gently ran his thumb through it, allowing the touch to linger more than necessary and his stare to go from her cheek to her eyes.

Her eyes.

The most stunning maze.

Let yourself get in, you are sure to get lost.

She blinked before he could, keeping them closed and leaning into his palm, her hand lifting to cover and caress his.

It would be so easy to grip her chin. To turn her face to him. To bring her to his lips.

So easy to steal a kiss.

Why do the easiest actions have to carry the most difficult consequences?

Clearing his throat, InuYasha transformed present into a loving memory.

“Take some rest. We leave first thing tomorrow.”

“Sounds good to me.”

On the way to claim Kagome’s prior guarding position by the entrance of the cave, InuYasha collected Tessaiga while she busied herself with getting cozy inside the sleeping bag.

“Kagome?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“InuYasha, I think we’re way past saying thank you for saving each other’s lives.”

“No, not for that. I mean, for that too, but... for coming. For staying by my side.”

“Stupid.” She mocked him, her voice lethargic as exhaustion finally caught up to her. “Where else would I be?”

A/N: this was some serious self indulgent bullshit. I regret nothing.

@inukag-week here is another piece of contribution. Kind of merged the Loyalty and the Instinct prompts here. Oops.

#Inukag Week #InuYasha #Inukag #Kagome #Kagome Higurashi #My writing #Inukag Fluff #Inukag Oneshot #Inukag Fanfiction

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that-freaky-mysterious-one · 4 years

Text

Roll Some Mo'

Summary: Bucky Barnes x Black! Fem! Reader, When you and Sam learn of Bucky's night terrors, you two come up with a solution to his problem. What you two don't know, however, is that will create more problems than initially meant.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, and your beautiful self! <3

A/N: mentions and use of marijuana, slight swearing, this is my first fanfic, let me know your thoughts! :D

It was a little known fact that you smoked weed. The earthy, floral scent when it was fresh out the bag? You loved it. Tricks such as the Ghost and French Inhale? Mastered with ease. Not to mention all the afternoons spent bonding with Sam over funny stories about each other's lives. That's wasn't the main reason why you smoked it, though.

You had really bad menstrual cramps. You'd always had painful cramps, but as you got older, they seemed to get worse. So bad, you got sick and had to miss out on some missions, and there was no time for that. So when your best friend Sam took you to a doctor to get a weed card and to a dispensary one day, you had finally found a solution that worked. Though you used medical marijuana with CBD in it, you'd occassionally buy goodies with THC in it, so y'all got high and did all the fun stuff.

It was just you, Sam, and some cannabis against the world.

That's when Bucky crash landed into your lives. He was a bit rough around the edges and closed off to most, but once you sat down with him and got to know him, he revealed himself to be shy and sweet. He was so adorable!

You two had hit it off right away! He was such a sweetheart, and you just adored his innocence and sense of humor.

Then, he told you about his anxiety, and how Hydra had abused him. He told you about the night terrors he'd have, and how he'd never get a good night's rest.

That's when you got the idea to add him to your, as Sam called it, "Avengers Weed Fanclub," circle. You figured this would give him a chance to open up to you and Sam, and hopefully, sleep better at night. You wanted to let him know you truly were there for him.

So that night, after getting him a card and buying various products at your favorite dispensary, you sat him and Sam down on your bedroom floor, and taught him all you knew about cannabis, from how to roll a joint to how much of an edible to eat at a time.

"So, do you want to try some tonight before you go to sleep?" you asked Bucky, hoping he'd be open to this.

"Hell yeah," he exclaimed, making all three of us laugh at his enthusiasm. "Can I try the THC stuff, though? Just to know how it feels."

"My man," Sam said, giving Bucky a high five. "(Y/N), can you open some RAWs real quick while I grind these for Buck?"

"Of course," you say, as Bucky looks between you two, watching Sam open a bag of flowers and load the grinder with them, then to you folding your papers, then back to Sam twisting the cap back and forth, and finally, to him handing you the grinded buds to pack into the paper. He was totally lost.

He watched intently as you used your fingertips to pack the paper. You were tedious with your work, just to make sure every joint you made hit just right.

"Bruh, hurry up, it doesn't take that long to roll a joint." Sam said, obviously joking, but wanting to start smoking.

"Don't rush me, I'm not about to have an ugly lookin' joint that doesn't hit. My joint always look cute and always hit." You responded, earning an eyeroll from Sam and a chuckle from Bucky.

Finally, you added a filter and began to twist the paper closed in between your fingers. When you concentrated really hard, your eyebrows furrowed, your nostrils flared a little, and your lips did the cutest little pout. Bucky was intrigued by this, and he didn't know why, but he was just so drawn to your lips. Maybe it was the way your lip gloss made your lips pop.

But you were just friends. It was just a little crush, and he enjoyed being you friend. He didn't wanna ruin that.

It was after you pulled the final piece of paper closed and exclaimed "Alright, looks good," with that genuine smile that he loved that he snapped out of these thoughts and reached for the joint , careful not to ruin your "masterpiece".

"Have you ever smoked a cigarette before?" Sam asked him, wondering if he had to teach another person how inhale without them coughing a lung up.

"Yeah, I used to all the time," he said, putting the joint between his lips. "Mind giving me a light?"

You put a towel under the door, flicked the lighter with your thumb, and brought the flame up to his joint. You looked up and locked eyes with him, both of you holding each other's gaze. You weren't gonna lie, he was handsome. It was just so easy to love him.

You were just friends, though, and you didn't want to ruin that. You enjoyed his company, and you didn't want to scare him off with your feelings.

He inhaled deep, held the smoke in his mouth, and exhaled forcefully, coughing a little as he did so. All you and Sam could was give each other a look and chuckle to yourselves.

After a couple more hits, all he could muster up was, "Delicious," in a low, husky voice with a smirk on his face. You and Sam bust out laughing, because you knew it was already starting to kick in.

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

After a couple of hours of smoking more joints, talking about Steve's hilarious past behind his back, playing UNO, and having a genuinely good time, Bucky said "I'm tired,", followed by him yawning.

"Yeah, it is pretty late," said Sam, yawning as well. "We should probably go to sleep."

You got high, but you never really had the symptoms of it. The red eyes, poor muscle coordination, none of it. You just became goofy as hell. You did get the munchies sometimes, though.

These two, however, looked burnt as hell. Both of them were slumped up against your bed, with red and droopy eyes. They were fighting sleep and were currently sharing their third bag of chips.

"Alright, well, 'night guys," you said to both of them, getting up to light a Nag Champa. You loved how fresh weed smelled, but after it was burnt, totally different story. So you used the incense to rid your room of the smell.

"'Night," they said in unison, both tripping over each other a couple of times before actually making it out your room, leaving you rolling around on the floor laughing.

Finally, you gathered the strength to get back up. After a couple of minutes of watching T.V., you blew out your incense, changed into a t-shirt, and climbed into bed, letting sleep consume you.

---------------------4 hours later-------------------

Your eyes blinked a couple of times, trying to adjust to the darkness of your room. Usually, when you woke up in the middle of the night, you had a certain gut feeling, and it was never good. Something just told you to check on Bucky. Just to make sure he was okay and still asleep.

So, you got up, put on a robe and some slippers, and walked to Bucky's room.

"Bucky," you whispered into the dark room, earning no response. "Bucky, you okay?"

You pushed the door open a crack, just to look in to see if he was asleep, but you saw nothing.

"Bucky?" you called out, walking into his room, turning on his lamp, and looking around, only to find nothing.

"Damn it," you whispered to yourself. Now you had a man who had never been high before running around the Avengers Facility.

"Bucky," you called out softly. You were starting to worry where Bucky was. He was supposed to be asleep, not be wandering around the facility. What if he left the facility? What if he hurt himself? "Bucky," you called out a little louder. "Bucky, where are you?"

"Dude, shut up. I'm trying to sleep," Sam said groggily, rubbing his eyes as he left his room to see what you were up for. "What are you going on about, anyway?"

"Bucky's missing."

"WHAT?"

"Shhhhh, I don't want to wake anyone else."

"Oh, so you can wake me up at 3 a.m., but everyone else is supposed to be able to sleep?"

"Can you help me find him?"

"No, I'm goin' back to sleep."

"Please?"

"Uh-uh."

"Sam, I'm begging you," you said, tears starting to prick your eyes from the worry taking over you. "Please."

He took a long look at you, rolled his eyes, released a dramatic sigh, and muttered a "Fine." This earned him a tight hug and multiple rushed "thank you's" from you.

"Yeah, yeah whatever," he said, patting you on the back. "Okay, you can stop now. If we don't find him, I'm takin' my black ass back to bed."

You guys looked everywhere. Well, maybe not everywhere. The facility was big as hell, and there was no way in hell you were going to search the whole base. You did, however, look everywhere you two thought he would be.

You searched the gym, the firing range, the lounge, etc. It wasn't until you went into the kitchen that found quite an interesting sight.

Did you find Bucky? Yes. How you'd found him? Well, let's just say when you two found him, surprised was an understatement.

Bucky was sitting on top of the refrigerator, eyes bloodshot, with the most blank expression, eating Sam's box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. He was so fried!

" Oh, hey guys," Bucky slurred out. "How you doin'?"

"Bucky, how the hell did you get on top of the refrigerator?" Sam asked, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.

"It's kinda complicated."

"AND ARE YOU EATING MY CINNAMON TOAST CRUNCH?"

"Dude, chill. I'll buy you more in the morning."

"Sam, can you just help me get him down?" you somewhat whined back at Sam. You just wanted to get Bucky back to sleep so that you could do the same.

"Please come down, Bucky" you said, reaching your hands out for him like an infant wanting to be picked up.

"NO!" he shouted, frowning like a toddler and folding his arms over his chest in pure childishness.

It took awhile for you to get him down. With Sam arguing with Bucky on whether he should take his weed, and Bucky just being plain stubborn at this point, you didn't make any progress for awhile. You decided to insert yourself, telling Sam you'd take care of it and to just go back to sleep.

"Don't have to tell me twice. Good luck," with that, Sam was gone, allowing you to focus on getting Bucky down.

"Bucky, it's 3 a.m., how and why are you on top of the refridgerator?"

"I woke up in the middle of the night hungry, so I came down here and Sam's cereal was the one thing in sight, so I used the counter as a stepping stool to get to the top of the fridge, and since then, I've just been chillin' up here."

"Okay, can you please just come down, now?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely," he said with a smirk. "Yes, yes I will."

Bucky proceeds to somehow hop off the fridge, onto the counter, and finally, onto the ground before almost tripping. If you hadn't been there to catch him, he would've fallen on his face.

"Thank you," he mumbled into your shoulder.

"No problem. Now, let's get you back to bed."

Once you finally got back to the sleeping quarters, you bring Bucky back to his room, make sure he's situated, and then leave to return to your to room. You then notice as your walking down the hallway, you hear footsteps that don't quite match your own.

"Bucky, you have to STAY in bed to go back to sleep," you said not even turning around. You didn't even have to turn around to know it was him. He was the only still up aside from yourself, not to mention he was the only one still high.

"But I'm not tired."

"But I am, so you have to go to sleep."

"But I'm lonesome."

"When you're asleep, you won't have to worry about that."

"But I-"

"No more 'buts', just go to sleep."

"Can I just hang out in you room? Just until I get sleepy."

"Yeah, fine, whatever, just don't try to stay up all night, because I want to go to sleep."

"Yea! Thank you," he exclaimed, hugging you from behind and shaking his hair in your face.

"Shhhhh, you ain't about to be hollerin' all night, especially in my room."

"Okay, sorry"

You walked him by the arm back to your room, hoping he'd fall asleep as soon as you got him in.

"Okay Bucky, just, you know, fall asleep," you said, easing him onto the foot of the bed.

"Okay," he responded in a small, sheepish voice.

You leave to go use the bathroom one more time and get comfortable before you go back to bed, come back, and find him going through your edibles.

"Bucky, no!"

"Why do you have food on a shelf?"

"Those are edibles, and to hide them from nosey-roseys like you!"

"You should share these, man. They're delicious."

You paused for a good minute, inhaled deeply, approached Bucky, and said "Bucky, did you eat any of those?"

"Just a little piece, about a pinch." He said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Okay, just go lay down while I clean this up," you said, slightly agitated.

As you're cleaning, you hear Bucky whisper a husky "Damn, doll" under his breath. You forgot you had taken off your robe, leaving you in nothing but your panties and a t-shirt.

"Bucky, you're supposed to be sleeping, or at least trying to, not watching me."

"But you're so beautiful, especially without all that clunky junk you wear on missions."

"You think so," you say, laying on your stomach next to where he was sitting.

"I know so," he says, looking you in the eyes with his blood-shot, blue eyes.

"Nah, I think you're just high," you say laughing his "compliment" off.

"No, I mean it, really. You're a very beautiful woman," he says leaning back, laying his head on your butt.

"You just like looking at my booty!"

"Maybe I do. It is quite nice. It's like a pillow," he said chuckling under his breath.

"Are you gonna fall asleep like this?"

"Only if you'll let me," he says, looking up at you with his chin still on your butt.

"Bucky....get under the covers, you silly goose."

"Okay," he said as you both giggled at his actions.

You and Bucky got under the covers together and watched "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air" reruns all night, or morning, long until you felt something laying on your bosom and you heard light snoring. You looked down to see Bucky had fallen asleep, and you were happy to see him finally sleeping, peacefully at that.

With that, you turned off the T.V., cradled Bucky's head to your chest, kissed his forehead, and whispered, "Goodnight, Bucky," to him, only earning a low rumble in return. Though Bucky may not remember it, this was one of the best nights of your life.

#bucky x you #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky x black!reader #sam wilson #blackgirlmagic #black reader #marijuana #medical marijuanna #bucky barnes x reader #steve rodgers #avengers #avengers fanfiction #avengers fandom #marvel #disney

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incarnateirony · 4 years

Text

15.11 and moving forward

Some of you may have seen my Putrefied in Purgatory video surrounding 15.09. Putrefaction is the reduction of a material to its barest state for a new foundation, rotting away to the alchemical Blackened state to rebuild on new stages of whitening (which seemed to crest in 15.10 for Dean), then yellowing and reddening en route, though for completion there's other stages ahead of us (as per what I lended towards in Philosopher's Gold, also 15.09 video.)

But I think what I need to do is discuss the tree.

SO MOVING FORWARD, WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IN ALCHEMY AND QABBALAH SPN LAND. GLAD YOU ASKED, NOBODY.

I *AM* gonna need you to bear with me right now, because I’m about to data-dump out a bunch of information and then go back over and explain how this is connecting to what Andrew Fucking Dabb and company are doing actively, episode by episode. If you don’t get it on first read, that’s fine, once I start putting it in terms and concepts and show stuff you get, scroll back and re-digest in frame.

Okay so, let’s drop some points. You may have remembered me making early videos of Belphegor as the ruler of Thagirion after 15.01 (x) and later, one called Worthy of Love for Tiphareth (x), but not before he who blocks and hampers the heart guides walked them through flames they were not yet ready to access (x), causing an unlevel involution between the Three Principles with Castiel reaching a reddening while Dean sat in darkness and Sam struggled to maintain his own light.

This is going to become very important to my babbling, but the concept is that there is a nega/void/blockage version of the tree that has “evil” versions of each node. Tiphareth’s shadow is Thagirion. Tiphareth is the essence of love, true and genuine. It dominates the heart chakra, and its disputer, Belphegor, the blocker, is he who does not believe in love and observes marriages for dissent and further aggitates the blockage in the path. Sound familiar?

This Sephira is in some respects the most important of all. It is the centre of the whole system; it is the only Sephira below the Abyss which communicates directly with Kether. (Think crown/godhead/source -- white node #1) It is fed directly from Chokmah and Binah; also from Chesed and Geburah. (I’ll... get into these another time, they’re a higher segment) It is thus admirably fitted to dominate the lower Sephiroth; it is balanced both vertically and horizontally. In the planetary system it represents the Sun; in the system of Tetragrammaton it represents the Son. In other words, the Son is an interpretation of the Father in terms of the Mind. [Tiphareth is] thus representative of [the four] elements at their practical best. (Book of Thoth, p.181)

You don’t say. (vaguely screams into fist about who and what the Mind is and who and what the Father in this Aeon is)

Soft Husband Gaze Dot Gif not found in tumblr search so I’ma nab and tag another by @starsmish

Dean and Cas’ blowout over Jack, “you’re dead to me”, was over Cas knowing something was wrong with Jack, and not telling them, and Dean’s anger leading to distrust.

That was putrefied in purgatory, everything laid bare. And while they haven’t had their heart to heart yet (that big good omens energy shot is probably from 12, a bobocuda episode like The Future was), here–

Cas already had his gasping, shocked, clutched reunion with the son. Sam came home and gave a squeeze too.

But Dean walked up, put a hand behind his son’s neck, stared deeply into his eyes to see if it was him. And, as if doubting himself, looked to his somber husband, who silently communicated and affirmed it, and Dean knew, and trusted, and believed, and their son was home.

Someone launch me to jupiter please

oh wait neverfuckingmind, Dabb and co are working on that shortly.

Tiphareth, the heart, is the central vein, the power between godhood and the terrestrial earth as manifest in Malkuth.

I had pointed out the choice taste in Dean emerging from black in a white suit to look into yellow light and past red drapes in 15.10 and that Dean seemed to be approaching his whitening, but that’s even truer now.

The phases I speak of bear relevance to these.

Just--humor me and see earth as the blackened base from the human perspective, even if the blackened base of the Shadow of Man lies beneath the Ain Soph (which I’ll show some inverted trees for later). I’ve spoken of lunar light in regards to the whitening before, and it even rose in my Reflection video about crucifying the ego before it was too late (x) (please mind the video was made a year ago now based on hermetic pattern spec) “The moon gives me her secret, a confidant; as full and bright as I am, this light is not my own and a million light reflections pass over me.”

(aside re: crucifying the ego, it’s about removing the blackened snake of our unrefined parts of the self, similar to putrefaction, so a step we just crossed)

In alchemy, albedo is one of the four major stages of the magnum opus, along with nigredo, citrinitas/xanthosis and rubedo. It is a Latinicized term meaning "whiteness". Following the chaos or massa confusa of the nigredo stage, the alchemist undertakes a purification or rectification in albedo, which is literally referred to as ablutio or absolution – the washing away of impurities. This phase is concerned with "bringing light and clarity to the prima materia (personal material)". But the transmutational state is ... well.

“The whitening phase is ruled by the moon and as such is reflective, in that it does not have its own light. The maturation of the whitening happens via reflection and is often described as mirroring. The reflective processes, of thinking and feeling, dominate the direct experiences of intuition, sensation and imagination. Knowledge is King, and Mystery is banished by the whitening ego's searchlight. Perfection is idealised, and imperfection seen as weakness. Immediate gratification is expected. Nothing is allowed to mature. Lacking true wisdom, we are children in adult's bodies. Our leaders lack the vision to see the real problems, and the guts to really change things.

“The first main goal of the process... highly prized by many alchemists... is the silver or moon condition, which still has to be raised to the sun condition. The albedo [whitening], is so to speak, the daybreak, but not till the rubedo [reddening] is it sunrise. The transition to the rubedo is formed by the citrinitas [yellowing], though this, as we said, was omitted later.” (x)

Now let’s take a look at how that applies to Yesod in the middle pillar, above Malkuth, both of which gain power from light *elsewhere* -- that is, Tiphareth.

Of Yesod:

“After the double excursion into misfortune, (Hod and Netzach) the current returns to the middle pillar. This Sephira is the seat of the great crystallization of Energy. But it takes place very far down the Tree, at the apex of the third descending triangle, and a flat triangle at that. There is little help from low, unbalanced spheres like Netzach and Hod. What saves Yesod is the direct ray from Tiphareth; this Sephira is in the direct line of succession. (Book of Thoth) “

Yesod is that subtle basis upon which the physical world is based....It is the Astral Plane, which in one sense being passive and reflecting energies from above is lunar, even as the moon reflects the light of the sun. The Astral Light is an omnipresent and all-permeating fluid or medium of extremely subtle matter; substance in a highly tenuous state, electric and magnetic in constitution, which is the model upon which the physical world is built. It is the endless, changeless, ebb and flow of the world's forces that, in the last resort, guarantee the stability of the world and provides its foundation. [...] The general conception of Yesod is of change with stability. (Regardie, 1994)

So let’s take a quick aside on that double journey into instability in Hod and netzach, and I’ll leave everyone to think of how this correlates now.

The position of Netzach is doubly unbalanced; off the middle pillar, and very low down on the Tree. It is taking a very great risk to descend so far into illusion, and, above all, to do it by frantic struggle. Netzach pertains to Venus...and the greatest catastrophe that can befall Venus is to lose her Heavenly origin. (Book of Thoth, p.182)

The sphere of Hod represents on a very much lower plane similar qualities to those obtaining in Chokmah. It is the lower plane, first primitive version of union and sharing between the divine masculine and feminine (SPN video recs [x], [x] ) as mirrored to Netzach’s above details.

So we’ve got... lesser unions *scrolls over 15.9* cast down Mark wedding, check, from a blackened putrified base of Malkuth not yet even fully acquiring its own awareness of reflected light in Yesod or Albedo. 15.10 Dean does seem to start gaining some sense of light and dream, if reflected off of imaginings of others while coming out from behind the curtain *checks* but it’s not fully manifest yet. Now the heroes struggle through descending into illusion and frantic struggle, questioning all they know in existence, or their “luck”. *checks*

Now, Fortuna tells our heroes a good deal of what we knew they needed to hear. In the end it really isn’t about their luck. Heroes aren’t extinct, but it’s not about playing god’s game, it’s about playing their own. The divine feminine told them the secrets of the gods and, in a way, it is the steps towards mastering their human sovereignty.

Notice the lunar card path lending towards the lunar Yesod node, for example, even using arcana -- given this is Grey’s system, there’s a few others.

Uh, ignore the given card/highlighted path for now, that’s there for reasons you may recognize that I’ll bang on about elsewhere.(Aeon, for the record, is basically the same as Judgement and World=Universe, and Lust=Strength different naming system -- you’ll notice the second names on the first chart apply here, though in a matter of descending vs ascending. A few are different; and I’m not gonna pledge up and down which version Dabb is using, so I’m more going to take the raw idea that works across multiple models)

In the interim -- and defaulting back to Tiphareth after following the path of the Sun through Art, towards the philosopher’s stone of unabridged love, marriage, the sun and the son, the moon reflects the light of the sun, the Rising Sun, albeit not yet back to its proper reddening -- the yellow familial light I’ve banged on about in this show, even beyond our romantic pairings. The sun had been lost and the family and the three principles fell into chaos, needing to rebuild. And yet, as Castiel brings home Jack, we see the growth even in these few episodes:

With pain and distrust betrayed in purgatory, over having failed to communicate issues with Jack, once everything was laid bare and rotten to base to rebuild in Purgatory, Dean looked to Castiel after doubting himself staring into Jack’s eyes to know if their son was truly home, and by a look, he knew, and accepted, and as weighty as it was, that family was complete.

Back to Tiphareth as the four elements in harmony, we have our future playing field here.

I will tap back to Hod reflecting Chokmah though, at a lesser value, by citing some points of Chokmah: “male creative energy, wisdom and the expression of a single idea in terms of duality. It transmits the idea of the divine unity to its feminine counterpart, the understanding, somewhat as a man transmits the essence of his character to his wife so that he perceives his inmost nature, itself unintelligible to him directly, by observing the flowering of that essence in his son. “

Cough. blossom.

Anyway,

the yellowing is upon them all now, in actual harmony, with the return of the sun by which to reflect their light in Yesod, but furthermore, to step forward.

Hm. What saves Yesod is the direct ray from Tiphareth.

Their su/on. Is home. And the yellow light, if faint at first, as they come to speak, has returned, lingering between them. The yellowing itself comes from moving into a form of being where one’s own soul is less a reflected light of the grand scheme of things and one’s own personal, generated light, and that is landing upon us shortly.

To like, fully break down this path shit I’d have to go full like alchemical sermon here, but I’m more trying to map out just how artistically rendered this show is using these paths.

So where do we go now? The crown, Kether, is our goal. But we’re not ready to Priestess rocket straight that direction, as much as there’s still a strong overshadow of Kether upon them, even if the Star’s light descending leads towards hope.

But we’ve left the primitive base triangle now. Geburah and Chesed await.

Geburah:

The introduction of the number Five shows the idea of motion coming to the aid of that of matter...The result is a complete upset of the statically stabilized system. Now appear storm and stress. (The Book of Thoth, p.180)

Despite the fact that Geburah is a feminine potency, as are all Sephiros [sic] on the left-hand column of the Tree, practically all its attributions are male and vigorous...This is not confusion of thought, but a recognition of the necessity for equilibrium." (Regardie, 1994)

Geburah represents on a much lower plane the Sakti force-element attributed to Binah. (Regardie, 1994)

The quality of Geburah is summed up in the general idea of strength and power and force. Its card based attributions are strife, disappointment, defeat, and worry. That which the heart must overcome with strength.

Chesed:

Lots of crazy mystic math involved but summarily Righteousness, Mercy, and Love, combining seemingly diverse ideas.

"below the Abyss"; therefore, in practice, it means solidification, materialization. Things have become manifest. The essential point is that it expresses the Rule of Law...The manifestation promised by Binah has now taken place. Chesed...is the highest idea which can be understood in an intellectual way. (The Book of Thoth).

These are given to travel to Chokmah (which I’ve noted already) and Binah “For she is omniform as Love and as Death, the Great Sea whence all Life springs, and whose black womb reabsorbs all. She thus resumes in herself the duplex process of the Formula of Love under Will" (Little Esssays Towards Truth, "Love") - planetary association Saturn, so you may.. *gestures back at other videos* (x)

Like... Rowena’s Reverse Womb Symbolism Dot Jaypeg, “Death is an infinite vessel.” (reminder drop x)

“In short, Binah is the substantive vehicle of every possible phenomenon, physical or mental” (Regardie, 1994)

opposite chokmah, as above mentioned in the masculine presence of the union to meet the godhead.

These lovers must still walk different paths for a time, but will meet across the void of hidden knowledge before standing at the crown, if only after facing their strife and personal strength, taking the understanding of the moon and fortuna, to not play another’s game, to blossom into holding one’s own light along with completion in the family unit, and to find wisdom in the hidden things between them, by which the aged hermit, the hierophant, he who held the unofficiated wedding’s gold, the incomplete, lesser manifestation at Hod, and formerly cast it down -- as his foundation to approach the crown.

At more immediate, Netzach is also led forward by Fortune or Fortuna towards Chesed. The Hermit, a role Sam has heavily embodied on his Hierophant path, crosses from Tiphareth. As the one that impressed Fortuna, Sam is likely the one to hold the torch of her words right now, and figure out how to make Chuck play their game. Whereas Hod travels the road of the Hanged Man, each to find their strength sourced upward from Tiphareth, the heart, the sun, the son, the marriage, the family light, the yellowing, with adjustment through Tiphareth removing some of the pillar of severity and the hanged man road ahead of the struggling, still separated union.

Death descends from Binah to Geburah, enacting her volatile change and meeting the path of the hanged man, empowered by heart and adjustment; the hierophant will meet and become the hermit at Chesed. The path of the united lovers is an inevitability in any system rising from the heart towards the path of the hanged man in affiliation with the divine feminine, death's forces included; and the hierophant enacts the emperor on way to the divine masculine. The Emperor and Empress' marriage will end up being the fundament by which to face that final triangle of upper creation.

For those of you who remember me banging on about Art/Temperance versus Lovers arcana all goddamn hiatus, enjoy seeing them spawn out of Tiphareth there.

Here the red eagle and white lion commune and share in their parts, for the restoration of the golden orphic (x) child and great work under the hands of the Hierophant against the pillars of overseeing divine fem/masc (here represented in Adam and Lilith, other versions Adam and Eve)

Just... honestly just read this (x) if you want to know more about how each of these elementson those cards correspond to the above paths.

So I guess this is a really long magical way of shipper Sam is gonna have to get these two knuckleheads cosmically married and complete before standing as the godman and subverting the allfather with the rebirth of the heart and their su/on. And hopefully not have Eileen recreate the Rowena thing on the way. Or Cas for that matter.

The complete deconstruction of the lovers in purgatory was necessary, having been in the cursed and evil, inverted tree and blocked at Tiphareth. Now we can build forward in light and knowledge and the sovereign journey of man, even if it has its pitfalls and misfortunes. The Empress’ marriage to the Emperor makes foundation for the Fool (which isn’t what it sounds like) and the Magician’s completed work, finalizing the top triangle of unity to complete their magnum opus against god. Man created the gods, and are to soon prove themselves the equal of him.

And that’s my rambling because I suck at teaching this shit.

*nervous chuckling for potential ways for Castiel’s deal to work out right now*

228 notes · View notes

ivyglow · 4 years

Text

Hostage - Jack Eichel | Buffalo Sabres

a/n: Sooooo I took too long to finish this piece, I'm kinda happy with what it turned out and I hope you guys like it. Again, a huge shout out to Naty who proofreaded everything, thank you @tsarinablogs !!! ❤️

word count: 3.5k

warnings: cursing; mention of toxic relationships.

note2: there is a note at the end of the piece. Please read it!! :) thanks. Oh- and you guys can read it listening to Hostage by Billie Eilish or Figures by Jessie Reyez.

Prompt: #11 ”we’re not just friends, and you known it!”

Do you know the line of really good friends but not enough to become best friends? Well, this line was something between Y/n and Jack. They were introduced to each other by a mutual friend and since day one they got along pretty well. He was funny and so was she. As time went by, the hangouts started to involve only the two of them, Jack always stopping by her house to talk, y/n always waiting to have dinner with him and so on. Maybe being able to draw the line was the main reason why Jack suggested what he did and why y/n accepted it. She liked him, more than a friend, but they were not close enough to become best friends and so things wouldn’t be messy if the deal did not work.

“How was he?” Jack asks while sipping his juice and looking at the TV screen. “I don’t know, he was ok, I mean we liked each other, but there wasn’t this kind of chemistry.” She murmurs, trying to bring back the memories of her first boyfriend. The topic was caused by a scene of the movie about two best friends becoming each other’s first relationship.

“Do I look like him?” he asks out of the blue, and she adjusts herself, trying to take a better look at his face as he fails to hide the thoughtfulness in his eyes.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t know..just thinking if maybe you have a type” Jack jokes and y/n puffs the air out of her lungs, while drawing one of her fingers to his face to trail the sharp of his jawline. This close, looking from this angle, laying just like this, he looked like one of the many busts she was studying last week. So methodicly sculptured, sharp jaw, perfect mouth, like it was a work of art with so much mathematics involved, chasing perfection.

But the thing is: Jack wasn’t a sculpture at all. He was a human being and taking into consideration her beliefs his face was not created by science.

“He had short hair…,” it passes through her lips while still tracing his features, “the kind you can’t even thread through your fingers. And he wasn’t as funny, but he was loud and I thought it was sweet. He wasn’t into arts or movies in general, but, still, I liked him.”

“So, we’re pretty much different…” he concludes and she shakes her head.

“Even if he had your height, or identical hair, or eyes, you guys would never ever look alike.” Her voice was abruptly deep.

“He had zero empathy with my feelings…” she confesses, it took her so long to realize it, took many breakups until she realized the blame wasn’t on her. “I don’t know how to describe the way he made me feel guilty about my own decisions and…” Jack could not do the same, right?

In fact, she felt deeper when it came to Jack, and so it could indicate that once he hurt her, it would be way worse, but he would not, right?

The hockey player did not press her to keep talking, actually, he didn’t want to talk about the subject, didn’t want to imagine someone as good as y/n being hurt, so he just started curling a random strand of her hair on his finger and shifting his attention back to the TV.

…

It comes as no surprise that y/n was friends with almost the whole Buffalo Sabres’ team, she would go to every possible game and be able to talk about anything with them. So when they won and went to celebrate, of course she was there, excited to hug all of her friends and make some sassy comments about their game.

“Wayne!!!!!” y/n squeals to the tall black man in front of her. “That pass was amazing, damn!”

“You liked it?! Sam almost killed me, saying it was a dangerous move, ugh” he engulfs her small body in his large frame.

“It was not that bad, but mine was better..” Dominik stumbled in the talk putting his arm around y/n’s shoulders.

“Dom!!! Your game was not that bad today” she jokes standing in her tiptoes to give him a kiss in the cheek.

“What an insane game, I don’t know if I can celebrate properly, there’s so much adrenaline still…” he says while leaning in the bar bringing his friend’s body with.

“Ooooh, baby’s want to go home?!” Wayne pokes his side and the three of them laugh.

“By the way, where’s Jack?” y/n asks, already missing his curls and sense of humor.

She’s not the type of person who gets attached in a way that creates codependency, usually, she’s chill, but somehow with Jack, there’s this constant desire of being close, hold hands, hear his voice or at least know he’s thinking about her too.

But it’s not something she verbalizes, it’s one of the many things she keeps to herself, scared of scaring him, she prefers to let her feelings eat her inside than share it with him and create the slight possibility of an end of their affair.

“Hmmm...he’s...I think…” Waynes seems a little stressed to answer and when Dominik squeezes her shoulders she knows something is wrong. “What’s up, guys?”

Y/n turns to the left-winger player holding her and before she could press him to say something, there’s a loud commotion on one table close to them. The table of the players. The table where Jack just arrived with a girl hanging by his side.

He’s holding her by the waist, hands a little bit lower and bodies too close together. There’s this flush on his cheeks matching the visible bruise in his neck, none of them are from the game and y/n knows it the second her eyes caught it.

“Oh-” it’s the only sound she is able to make even though she wanted to say to both boys around her that it was okay, that her and Jack were just friends who sometimes happens to kiss and have sex, and share movie nights, and hold hands at private parties, and sleep together when the night feels lonely. Nothing more, just friends after all.

“Just ignore him, sweetheart” Wayne is not trying to defend his friend and it shows.

Her eyelids feel heavy and her breath caught in her throat like she just swallowed the slice of lemon in her cup. When it feels like her knees are giving it, the drink is not to blame this time.

“I’m okay” she whispers.

She can almost hear the voice of her girlfriends, telling her to let Jack go.

Oh, but boy, was she a stubborn girl.

The trio keeps talking and eventually, some other players and their girlfriends join the conversation. Jack and the girl make out for a few minutes and when he leaves the table to get a drink on the bar, he just smiles at y/n like nothing ever happened.

That night, unlike Jack, she went home alone and cried herself to sleep.

…

It was a Thursday afternoon, one week after the club incident, she had just arrived from class and was filling in her bullet journal, before taking a bath and starting to do her work. Today was a productive day, easily so, her mind was not focused on thinking about Jack or trying to figure out how to talk to him, what to tell him and how hurt she was. Y/n and Clarice, her best friend, went to study at the library. And being the social butterfly that she was, Clarice invited some other friends, one of them was this brunette boy from one of her classes and for the first time they talked about things other than university and due dates. He was a pretty nice guy and they exchanged numbers at the end of the study session.

Even though she had to constantly brush Jack off her mind, it was actually nice to enjoy someone else’s company and feel wanted.

The knocks on her door startled her and y/n left the bedroom, walking straight to the living room, asking herself who it could be.

“Eichel?” she furrowed her brows. It’s like someone punched her right into the chest and for some seconds the air seems far away from her body.

“Hey, I was just a little worried, you didn’t text me or anything…” he rocks back and forth in his heels a little stunned since she didn’t give space to him to get inside.

“I was...busy” the words ‘I’m sorry’ almost slipped through her lips.

“You’re free now?” he furrows his brows and y/n sighs lowly. “I actually got some stuff from university to do...if you don’t mind” the last part is said once his face drops a little. No one would have noticed, but she did because she knew his features like no one else.

“I don’t...I could use some Netflix and chill and keep you company?!” his lips are stretched into a small smile, the one he usually does when he’s suggesting something and he’s not sure the person is open to it. The one he does every time he fucks up, like he did the other week. The one that usually comes with the big blue eyes staring deep into her soul. The one that always is able to make her give up.

And this time is no different.

She steps aside giving him room to get inside.

“I’ll be in my room, I need some silence to work on this assignment” it’s her best strategy to avoid him or at least be able to have some minutes of productivity.

“Oh, I’ll be on my phone then,” he smiles, big this time. “You won’t even notice I’m in the same room.” he tries for a light joke but somehow it punches her right in the gut.

It was impossible for him to go unnoticed. At least in her world. He was so close to the center of it that sometimes she asked herself if he wasn’t the sun.

Well, in this solar system he was the sun and she was mercury, too close, almost melting, unable to receive others. He was the closest she could ever have and cold? She never felt it.

Jack made himself comfortable on her bed while she typed away on her laptop. Or tried to type away, because once or twice he would giggle to his cell phone or get up to get water or whatever.

“Can you please stop?!” she asked abruptly when it felt impossible to focus on her work.

“Sorryyyy” he smiles -big-, and turns his attention back to the phone.

After half an hour and three pages, she gets up to pee and stretches her body. Jack was engulfed by his phone, typing eagerly and too distracted to notice she was walking past. Well, who could blame him?! Probably, any other person in his situation would be distracted too, it’s not every time that his hookups are open to send nudes in the normal chat - usually, they would go for Snapchat or something like that.

“What the fuck?!” y/n stops in her tracks when her brain finally processes the image on the screen of his mobile. “Are you really sexting some random girl? In my house?!”

“I’m not sexting, we were talking and she happened to send a picture asking my opinion…”

“Of course, your opinion about how good her new bra looks!” her tone was angry covering how betrayed she felt.

‘Sis, he can’t even be named a cheater since you guys are not dating!’ this tiny voice inside her laughed at her feelings and remembered the bitter truth.

“Hey, it’s not a big deal, ok?!” he rolls his eyes, suppressing the little smile in the corner of his lips.

“It is a damn huge deal!” she almost screams. “You can’t be that blind, Jack!”

“About what? I try my best to listen to you and do as you like and-”

“Oh my fucking god!” she grunts. “How do you pay attention to my feelings and try your best to listen to me after what you did last week?! And oh! That shit happened two months ago too and oh! I almost forgot every time you came up with a new shit that leaves me heartbroken and guess what?! You don’t come to talk to me about it, because you don’t even try to pretend that you fucking care with my feelings!”

“Oh- what the hell, y/n?! What’s that outburst about?! Are you really fighting me like this because of a random nude?!” he left the bed, standing right in front of her. The phone forgotten on the mattress.

“You don’t even get it, Jack…” she mutters, lips quivering.

“Well, then tell me and I will. We’re friends, y/n, we’re not supposed to have this kind of miscommunication-”

“We’re not just friends and you know it!” her voice a few tenths louder.

“And we’re not a couple either and you know it!” his voice is lower. Almost like he knew how deep that sentence could cut her heart.

‘See?! I told you!’ her gut screams inside her head, her own heart being the target of pity and laughs inside her.

“Get out, Jack” y/n sights.

“I’m just being hones-”

“GET OUT!” she screams, tired of his voice, tired of his cold heart, tired of him and most of all tired of how he made her feel. One minute in the top of the world and the other so low that rock bottom wouldn’t even live up to how she really felt.

Jack did not try to talk, or hug her, or say that he was wrong, maybe sorry?! He did nothing besides grabbing his phone and leave her house.

The indifference kicking hard one more time in the same spot that was bruised: her heart.

…

It’s been two weeks, Jack was on a road trip with the team and since the incident, he gave no signal of wanting to talk. So there was Clarice trying to make y/n realize that she deserved a lot more than someone like him.

“...And it feels like he’s the sun sometimes. I just feel cold and heartbroken now, you know?” Y/n grumbles laying on her bed and facing the ceiling.

“WhAT?!”

Clarice’s tone startles y/n.

“What?” she asks back.

“You can never ever make someone or something the sun of your system. It’s too dangerous, don’t you see it?!”

She stays silent for some seconds trying to absorb her friend’s words.

“It’s not like I have a choice though…” the voice that left her mouth was a strangled one, hoarse from all the cry and scream-on-the-pillow-session.

“You do! We always do. We have a choice when we decide that we won’t take that bullshit anymore, we will focus on ourselves and nothing less. Nothing can be the center of your life, not an object, not a goal, not a person and even less so a relationship, cause once some of these things are gone?! You’re broken, too.”

Clarice gives her a sympathetic look before going for a hug, she knew that it was exactly what y/n was needing, to feel warm with anything other than Jack and eventually learn to feel it by herself.

“I thought he was different…” she whispers.

“We all do, sweetie, we all do…” Clarice runs her fingers under y/n’s eyes trying to stop for some seconds the tears from falling. “But there’s this singer I really like and she says that it’s not our job to be someone else Karma. It’s not your job to fix him, you can help him with that, but first?! First, you need to heal yourself, we can’t lift others if we are on the ground as well.”

Y/n took the rest of the day to rest and cry a fucking river, as Justin would say. Clarice was staying with her during the week since the two had a college assignment together and y/n could use some company. Especially if her company would make her laugh every possible time and help her with sad thoughts. Y/n spent more time with the boy from her class, Daniel and she was happy to receive all his memes and trash-talk always.

It was almost midnight and she was deep in reading an article from college when her phone buzzed.

A message from Dominik.

It was a picture of him holding a really colorful and big cup of drink. The team was probably celebrating one more win.

Dominik: guess the name of this drink?”

Dominik: I’m kidding, don’t.

Dominik: It’s actually ‘Y/N‘, you have the name of a drink here lol can you believe it?!”

She giggled with her friend’s drunkenness and opened the photo again. He had this big smile, the one that makes your eyes almost close and his cheeks were red probably from the alcohol. In the background of the photo, however, there was a well-known figure laced with a girl.

Jack was kissing her and y/n wasn’t even surprised. She was hurt.

He wasn’t different at all and she felt silly for believing it for so long.

…

At the end of the week, when the team just landed in the city, y/n received a message from Jack.

Jack: Hey, just landed. Missing you like crazyyyy.

Jack: Can I go to your place?

Jack: we’re cool right?!

She sighed.

Some days without him and she was able to realize how fucked up things have been.

She was considering a date with Daniel, her classmate, and hopefully this time Jack was not going to stop it, not like he did the other times when she tried to make the “not-exclusive” deal work for both of them. He would always show up at her house and keep her in her bed until it was too late to go out or say so much bullshit she would end up cancelling it.

y/n: Come over, I need to talk indeed.

She just started to realize she had been a hostage of a lot of things, college, some feelings from her childhood, her toxic family, etc. So it felt enough of playing the soft one if she was having the opportunity to stop being held against her will.

It was twenty minutes before the knock on her door.

He was there, smile in the corner of his lips, just like he would do after messing up. She was going to forgive him because she was trying to love herself enough and to carry hurt was a burden she was not going to put in her backpack. In fact, keep the bad feelings would only make it worse.

She smiled back, slightly, almost invisible. But he saw it, not because he knew her face as nobody did, but because he was paying attention like never before.

“I missed you,” he mumbles entering the apartment.

“I don’t wanna take too long, Jack. I just want to be honest with you.”

“If it is about th-”

“No. Please, let me...let me just finish ok?!”

“Yeah, go ahead” he nodded.

“I don’t want to see you anymore. Not while I’m trying to heal. You can’t keep using me like that, can’t keep acting like I don’t have feelings, acting like seeing you in doubt did not kill me inside. I love you! You’re my friend, Jack, and that’s even worse cause it feels like I’m losing you twice. Just let me go, stop making my feelings hostage.”

“I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know.” She sights. “But you did. And I’m sorry Jack, but looking at you right now – the only thing I can think of is that you look exactly like him…”

“Who?” he furrows his brows.

“My first boyfriend, the one I once told you would never look alike.”

“And you never told me why you thought we were so different…”

“Because he didn’t care about me. He didn’t love me as much as I did and still, he kept me, I guess maybe because of the feeling of possessing someone, maybe afraid of loneliness…Still, he kept me hostage for long enough and I’m not letting you do the same.”

She handed him a box with some of his stuff that was at her place.

It was the first step and it was a small one, but she was trying to leave the place and the people that made her feel worse.

She was a hostage of a lot of things, some feelings from her childhood, her toxic family, Jack, but one by one, she was going to break the chains. It was enough of hurt and sorrow and madness, if she could stop being held against her will, she would.

note3: during this time and because of some events I realized I don't feel 100% ok writing about Jack, I decided to finish and publish this one in respect to the anon who asked (and I replied saying it was ok). So yeah, there's nothing about him in my inbox anymore and I just want to let you guys know that :) thanks.

#jack eichel #jack eichel request #buffalo sabres #nhl writing #hockey imagine #nhl imagines #angst #lot of notes sorry #my moodboards #mels writing

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daydreamingfics · 4 years

Text

Pairing: Ceo!Kihyun x Reader

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 1,444

Inspiration: Saw a picture of Kihyun in a suit... and well, this happened.

[9:00pm] - Every year, your office hosted an over-the-top company party, and every year it brought out the worst in your colleagues. It was common knowledge that the head honcho attended the function, and everyone vied for just a fraction of the powerful man's time. As if somehow rubbing elbows with the CEO at a party were enough to secure you a pay bump, or a higher position. The idiocy of it all amused you greatly. If you were to advance within your field, it would be based solely on your work ethic- not how well you kissed ass.

Mr. Yoo, the founder, and CEO of Yoo Enterprises, had recently announced that he'd be stepping down. His son, Kihyun, was to be taking over the role within the coming weeks. The news spread like wildfire throughout the office as everyone wondered what changes were to come. You had never met or even seen the prodigal son, which appeared to be the general consensus. You only hoped that the man wasn't some smug trust-fund baby who couldn't tell his ass from his elbow. For the most part, Mr. Yoo had been an exceptional CEO. He was intimidating, yet a fair man who took care of his employees. The pay was well above average, the hours were decent, and there were actual benefits. Securing a job at the prestigious company right out of college had indeed been a godsend for you. Hopefully, Kihyun shared similar values to those of his father and would be the breath of fresh air that the aging company needed.

An hour or so into the party, you were already over it. With the buzz of meeting the new big cheese lingering in the air, everyone appeared to be more insufferable than usual. You excused yourself from yet another vapid conversation, setting your sights on the open bar. A dry martini and some fresh air were just what you needed to make it through the duration of the evening. With a new drink in hand, you sauntered out onto the balcony. A feeling of relief washing over you as you stepped out into the crisp night air.

A faint "Hello" made it's way to your ears, causing your heart to nearly jump out of your chest. You didn't notice anyone else out on the balcony, so you weren't expecting to hear another voice. Sensing your panic, the owner of said voice cautiously approached where you stood.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to startle you. I thought you saw me when you came out." the man tried again, worry evident in his tone. You shifted so that you were facing him, your eyebrows furrowing slightly as you took in the man before you. You had never seen him in the office, as you would've definitely remembered him. He was well, gorgeous. Even in the dimly lit balcony lighting, his features were sharp and captivating. You willed your mouth to stay closed as you attempted to not to gawk at the stranger before you.

"No, no, it's fine. I just didn't expect to see anyone out here. Not with the party in full-swing and all." you uttered wittily.

The handsome stranger let out a chuckle and nodded his head in understanding. He lessened the distance between the two of you, still leaving a considerable amount of space. But close enough that his cologne wafted in the night air and made a way to your nose with every light breeze. Of course, the guy would smell just as good as he looked. There was a beat of silence as neither of you knew what to say, all words seemingly escaping you at that moment. You were curious about the stranger but hadn't ingested nearly enough alcohol to have the courage to chat him up. Plus, he could be a killer for all you knew. Unlikely, but hey, you never know.

"I'm guessing you too needed a break from all the schmoozing going on in there?" the man probed with a raised eyebrow. You simply nodded, prompting you both to roar with laughter.

"Guilty as charged," you acknowledged.

The two of you began conversing about your shared dislike for uptight gatherings, and before you knew it, the conversation had branched off into several topics. You discovered that the two of you shared a similar sense of humor, which made conversing effortless.

"Well, I sincerely hope that my being out here didn't ruin your hideout plans." the stranger joked while casting a quick glance at his very expensive-looking watch. Stranger. You'd been talking to the guy for twenty-minutes and still didn't know his name. The pure formality of names getting buried under the fascinating conversation that the two of you had struck up.

"Oh, on the contrary. You've made this night quite enjoyable, actually. But hey, don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold here. Can't have everyone thinking that I enjoy the parties." you jeered.

"Ah, your secret is safe with me. Consider my lips sealed." he quipped wistfully.

Having been so engrossed in the conversation, you hadn't noticed just how close the two of you were now standing. For some reason, everything felt so natural and organic with a guy you had only just met.

A guy who names you still didn't even know.

Just as you opened your mouth to finally ask him for his name, there was an announcement made from inside beckoning everyone's attention to the main stage. Neither of you moved a muscle; just stood there basking in the final moments. Though you had only just met, he felt oddly comfortable.

"I suppose we better head back inside and see what all the commotion is about. Thank you for the wonderful company tonight. I hope that we can do this again sometime... perhaps over coffee? And, if it's alright, can I have your number?" he questioned with a broad smile while holding out his cellphone to you. Mirroring his grin, you grabbed ahold of the device and handed him your own.

"No, thank you, and yeah, I'd really love that." you chuckled as the two of you swapped back devices, and a second announcement cut through the moment.

"Oh, did you want to head back in together?" he questioned to which you shook your head. You informed him that you'd be right behind him as you wanted to finish the remnants of your drink. Truth be told, you really just needed a minute to come back down after the incredible encounter. He cast you yet another one of his million-dollar smiles accompanied by a wink as he rejoined the party.

As your mind started going over everything that had just transpired, you realized that you still hadn't asked for his name or given him yours for that matter. Yet, you dumbfoundedly agreed to a date with the man. Mentally face-palming yourself, you retrieved the device that you had just put away. Undoubtedly he had saved his contact under his name. What an unorthodox way of finding it out, but hey, it's better than not knowing. You felt as if someone had punched you in the gut as you surveyed the contact.

[ Kihyun ]

Surely it was just a coincidence that the man you had just spent the past half-hour shamelessly flirting with shared the same name as your soon to be new CEO. That had to be, it had to be.

By the time you made it back inside the banquet hall, everyone had gathered around the main stage. As the clapping subsided, an all too familiar voice stopped you dead in your tracks.

"Good evening, ladies and gentleman, I'm Kihyun Yoo. It's a pleasure to be here with you all tonight. I look forward to working alongside each of you, and anticipate a wonderful year and beyond for Yoo Enterprises! On behalf of myself and my family, we thank you for your continued support and dedication as we make this transition! Please, everyone, enjoy the evening."

As Kihyun exit the stage, his eyes briefly found yours. The corners of his mouth turning up as he took in your flustered state upon hearing the news that he was indeed the new CEO. You quickly lost sight of the man in the crowd as your colleagues eagerly went over to welcome him. Kihyun barely had a foot in the door, yet there they all were no doubt kissing ass. You scoffed as your cell phone buzzed, indicating that you had received a new message.

Kihyun:

So about that coffee... how does tomorrow morning work for you? Say 9?"

Well, fuck. Work was undoubtedly about to get a lot more interesting.

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zankivich · 5 years

Text

If You Cross Her, Then You Cross Me: Werewolf! Shawn x Black Reader

a/n: Hi this is the third part of the In My Blood Series. It could probably be read independent, but its a lot cuter if you read all of them tbh. I just wanted to take the common trope of guy defends girl and make it a little less trash. So I hope I did that. Let me know what you think!

Warnings: Assault/harassment, a little smutty smut.

The first time you seen Shawn get angry is an odd experience. Mostly because it comes out of nowhere, and also because it’s not directed at you and yet you feel it deep in your gut. The pack had been running drills more often than usual lately as a result of a new scent that had been picked up that no one recognized. Shawn was a little tense trying to measure whether the scent was a threat or not, so he’d been asking a lot more of everyone. Even you.

“Baby, I need you to let me or one of the guy’s pick you up from work for the next few days.” He broached hesitantly as you were getting ready for bed one night.

And for good reason.

“Excuse me? I don’t need a protector Shawn, I’m a grown ass woman.” You snorted.

Your latest hairstyle was a plethora of braids that fell all the way down to your waist and were a bitch to put up at night. Shawn appeared behind you and reached for the scarf in your hands to tie it more perfectly stable for you.

“You are a grown ass woman. This is much more for my sanity than yours. I don't know what I would do if anything ever happened to you.” He murmured playing gently with one of your braids.

He was pointing those dumb big brown eyes at you and looking all downtrodden and sad. It was so annoying how easily it worked on you.

You rolled your eyes. “Why does it have to be one of the guys. Why can’t one of the women come get me?”

“Because they’ll be busy running patrol. I’m not dumb Luna and Jasmine are more ruthless than any of the guys could be. It will probably be me most of the time, as long as I can get away from the shop and make sure things are alright. Please, babe. Humor me?”

You heaved a sigh that was as dramatic as it was loud before letting your head rest back on his chest.

“On one condition.”

He whined, the alpha in him simultaneously displeased at not being immediately obeyed while also itching to serve.

“This weekend I get you all to myself.” You murmured.

His arms wormed around you from behind and he peered at you in the full length mirror.

“Honey…”

“Don’t honey me. Ever since y’all sniffed something in the wind you’ve been out all hours of the night. You’re grouchy and tense all the time. We never just get to lay in bed and relax. I miss you.” You admitted softly.

“I miss you too.” He cooed squeezing at your hips. “But I’m the leader of the pack. I have to make sure everyone is safe.”

You peer up at him with a look that must state you’re not very happy. You can’t help it. You miss the feel of his curls tickling your face when he cuddles into your body. Miss the warmth and the fullness that his love brings to your tummy. You just miss him, and you want him. Is that so bad?

“I’ll do my best, okay? As long as nothing dire is happening, you can have me. I’m yours.”

You smirked softly and turned in his arms to wraps yours around his neck.

“Damn skippy you are. Come here already.”

His lips find yours and you squeal as he pulls your legs up around his waist heading straight for the bed. There is no feeling like the feeling of his hips pushing down against yours. His palms warm and firm on your thighs as his tongue works like heaven in your mouth. He makes you feel like you’re floating, like you are the most important thing in the world and he does it with incredible ease. This is exactly what you were missing.

“Can I?” He whispers all sultriness and lust.

His hands had found their way to cup your breasts through the fabric of your shirt. Shawn was obsessed with most parts of your body, but his fascination with your boobs was in a league of its own. You were helpless to pretend that it didn’t get you going. That the adoration and heat in his eyes didn’t make you feel sexy and wanted. So when his fingers reach for your tanktop you’re more than willing to indulge him.

“Yea.”

He tugged your straps down over your shoulders and pressed kisses to the top of your chest. Your nipples pearled in the cold air and his tongue was immediately there to trace the sensitive skin. Your back arched involuntarily.

You moaned. “Shawn.”

Everything is perfect. His hips nestled between your thighs. The weight of his body keeping you anchored as he does everything in his power to make you squirm. And boy do you squirm.

“Mine.” He grunted, teeth grazing your flesh.

Jesus.

A knock on the door disrupts everything.

“Not now!” Shawn huffed still in your arms.

“Yea uh...trust me when I say I would love to not disturb what’s going on in there! But uh we just got back from patrol and we need to talk.”

That damn super wolf hearing was really beginning to be a nuisance.

“We have got to start staying at my place.” You huffed as he left you like a dead fish on the middle of the bed.

“You, don’t move. I will be right back. We are going to finish. I swear.”

You rolled your eyes letting your hands come up to cover your chest as your legs plopped out on the bed.

“Don’t mind me. I’ll just be here fondling my own titties. No worries!”

Shawn pulled the door open to Brian stumbling back to get out of the way. You only have to hear his voice to know his eyes are doing the darkening alpha thing that you might just think was hot if he wasn’t abandoning you mid nipple sucking.

“This better be good.” He gruffed pulling the door shut to leave you alone.

You peered aimlessly up at the ceiling before speaking to literally no one but yourself.

“This was my momma ain’t want me to date a white man. I just know it.”

***

It had been a busy day. Your assistant accidentally double booked you resulting in nonstop appointments all through your lunch hour. When you texted Shawn that you wouldn’t be able to make your usual lunch date at the diner because of it he had sent you a couple dozen heart and kissy face emojis with promises of making something special for dinner. It was sweet, even if it didn’t necessarily curb your hunger in anyway.

You pulled your gloves off and washed your hands after sending Ms. May, one of the older women in town, home with a decongestant.

“Ashley I’m gonna take a break until my 3:30. I’ll be in my office if you need me!”

You pulled your door open only to find your boyfriend with his obnoxiously perfect ass perched on the edge of your desk.

“Surprise?” He grinned.

You smiled tiredly and practically collapsed in his arms.

“What are you doin’ here?” You hummed as he kissed you hello.

“I couldn’t let my baby starve. I brought you lunch.”

“Boy, don’t you know you supposed to lead with that?! I’m sitting here kissing you and there’s some perfectly good food for me to eat?”

He made you a croissant breakfast sandwich at the coffee shop. It was kind of your favorite and he always made it with turkey bacon. You eat together and bask in each other’s company. It didn’t seem to matter how long you were together, you could always find something to talk about, could always find ways to make each other laugh. When he pulled you onto his lap and moved your braids out of the way to press kisses to your neck you turned to goo in his hands. He made you so unbelievably soft.

“I have another little surprise for you.” He hummed between kisses.

“It it one of your cinnamon apple muffins? You know how I feel about those.”

He chuckled. “Not quite, but I’ll make sure to bring one when I pick you up. I was thinking we could get out of town tonight. Go to the city. Maybe catch a movie?”

“I’m sorry? You actually don’t want to sit up all nice pacing and sniffing with your wolf senses while your beautiful girlfriend goes under appreciated?”

“Very funny.” He snorted rolling his eyes. “C’mon. I got Brian and Geoff to take care of things for the night. I just want to spend some time with you. What do you say?”

“You know damn well that’s all I want in the world. Of course I say yes.”

You spend the rest of your lunch break trying not to tip backwards in your spinny office chair while kissing each other senseless. His lips on your neck and jaw...the small spot behind your ear.

“I should get back to work. I need to prep myself on my next client.” You hummed.

You were sitting in his lap, arms and legs wrapped securely around him with zero care in the world to release him back into the world. Neither did he apparently.

“Mmmm, no.” He whined nipping at you jaw.

“Listen here big alpha, I have to be presentable. Can’t have you marking me up. We’ve got tonight for that.”

“What If I want to do it now?”

Honestly this man was beginning to be trouble.

“Ugh i hate you.” You groaned pulling his lips right back to yours.

“You wish.” He grunted hands reaching roughly to tug at your hips.

There’s another knock on the door just when you’re starting to get worked up all over again. Is was like the worst of dejavu in the world.

“Ma’am, your uh three-thirty is here?” Ashley called hesitantly.

You peered down at him where he was staring back at you with that cocky ass grin of his.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You huffed de-straddling his waist.

You turn to find your jacket only for a sharp whack to come across your ass stilling you completely. You turn over to peer at him and you really can decide whether to hit his face or sit on it.

“Too much?”

You snorted. “Not enough. Don’t try slapping this ass until you know what to do with it.”

Shawn got up out of your chair and grabbed his car keys off your desk. He reached for the door handle to prop it open for you like a gentlemen or some shit.

“If there’s one thing we both know is that I most certainly know what to do with it. I’ll pick you up at five thirty.”

That man would surely be the death of you.

****

“Can we get popcorn?” You asked, arms wrapping tightly around his bicep.

“‘Course we can, honey.”

“And nachos?”

“Sure.”

Hmm.

“Annnnnnd a pretzel?”

He smiled at you and kissed your cheek and you damn near swooned.

“Order whatever you want baby. The night is ours.”

“Did you hear that?” You asked directly to the teenager running the food stand that had not a care in the world about your life. “My mans got money.”

“If only we all could be so lucky.” The angsty teen deadpanned.

“She’s a doctor by the way. I just own a coffee shop that people come to because there’s no starbucks in town.” Shawn snorted.

The teen was not very excited by your love. Rude.

“That is truly a harrowing tale. Would you like to order?”

Kids.

The movie was good. You spent your time between snacks and cuddling into Shawn’s side. You couldn’t believe how much you could miss someone , didn’t even know it was possible to feel as full and happy as you did when the two of you were together. And it helped that Shawn was relaxed too. The past few weeks he had paced the length of his room hundreds of times, tension just coming off of him in waves. And when he hadn’t been doing that he’d been running perimeter checks like a mad man. He oftentimes would do them at two or three in the morning, the times he’d never ask the rest of the pack to do. It meant that sometimes you woke up to him not being there, and it would be impossible for you to fall back to sleep until he came home. Hard times for the pack tended to translate to hard time for you. This is what happens when you date a werewolf ladies.

“Can we spend the night at my place?” You asked softly when the movie had ended and you were exiting the theater with his arm wrapped around you.

He frowned. “I don’t know about that, babe. I should really be at the house in case something happens.”

“Yes, but you’re just a call and a couple hop skips away from the house anyway. Maybe we could be together for a change without someone’s super sonic hearing getting in the way.”

“I told you they don’t listen.” He assured you for the umpeenth time.

“And I told you that I am too intelligent to be that naive.” You snorted. “Pleeeeease?”

Shawn might be a wolf but you had some puppy dog eyes of your own on deck. Turns out they were just as irresistible. Go you.

“Let me call and check in, okay? No promises!”

You beam at him and press a kiss to his cheek as he leads you outside. Outside the night air is the perfect temperature. Cool enough, but not cold. It’s not raining, so while Shawn talks boring business with Brian, you walk a few feet away from him just to look up at the sky. You teeter playfully in your heels and just sort of walk aimlessly around still within close proximity to the theater. The sky was so beautiful that you stumbled slightly and almost knocked into a group of guys heading straight for the entrance. One of them catches your arm and makes sure you’re up straight.

You giggled slightly. “My bad. I was just looking up at the sky and didn’t even see where I was going. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re alright, sugar. You okay?” He asked a look in his eyes that had your spidey senses tingling.

You nodded. “Yep. Thank you. Have a nice night.”

The crowd comes to a stop as the guy does and suddenly you’re faced with a group of six or seven men that immediately make you feel uncomfortable.

“What are you doing tonight, baby? Why don’t you come see the movie with us?” He asked hand still on your arm.

You don’t have your mace on you, because werewolf boyfriend tended to trump that nowadays.

“No thank you I’ve already seen my movie.” You smile slightly and tug at his grip.

“What you don’t like white guys or something? We no good for you, baby?”

Well that was just incredibly ironic. A part of you wanted to say, usually, yes, but even you didn’t love to tackle a big group of men in public. It’s maybe a forty-five second conversation, but it feels like hours, and surely any woman could relate. There’s this innate sense to shrink in on yourself, to take up less space, to be anything other than what you are. The survivalist in you is already looking at the space on either side of you that isn’t occupied by a man, tried to figure out how hard it might be to run away. His friends certainly aren’t going to stop him, and you had no clue just the lengths he would go through to make his point.

At first you don’t even see Shawn. The only thing you see is the flash of red from his buttoned up shirt as he steps in to easily break the hold on the guy’s hand. You don’t feel nearly as bad about the ease of it knowing the whole super-not exactly human strength thing. The relief when he’s there is immediate and infinite. Your stomach had dropped and your throat had thickened. But, with Shawn there you knew nothing would ever happen to you. He wouldn’t let it.

“Excuse me? I don’t think she wants to be touched by you.” Shawn spat. “So, why don’t you back the fuck up.”

“Aye man we were just talking! What are you her fucking bodyguard?”

“Doesn’t matter who I am, now does it? A piece of shit like you puts his hands on someone when they don’t want it, I’m the guy who asks you to move on before I kick your ass.”

Said piece of shit felt much more confident with his group of friends around. He stepped to Shawn with at least three inches of height difference and not nearly the muscle mass. And that’s before you got to the fact that he was kind of an alpha.

“Bro why don’t you get your own bitch and stop--”

Shawn’s eyes flashed red immediately. Bright red. And before you’re even aware of it, he lifts the guy off his feet by his throat and sends him flying into his friends. You’ve never seen anything like it. Shawn turns to you and hands you his car keys and he looks livid, he looks...not completely human.

“Baby go get in the car.” He murmured, jaw clenched.

The group of guys are all collectively shitting themselves though and Shawn looks like he might not let the guy leave on anything but a stretcher.

“Hey, c’mon. Let’s go. I don’t need you to defend my honor.” You murmured tugging on his arm. “Please?”

“No one is ever going to speak about you like that in front of me. Ever.”

He turned, hell bent on doing damage, when you grabbed at the back of his shirt to pull him back to you.

“Please! I wanna go home, okay? Now!” You yelled.

He peered at you, his nostrils flared and his eyes were still red. But, it was you. So, he took a deep breath and another before he turned calmly back to the guy. You watched him squat down where the guy was clutching at his neck and coughing, which seemed just a bit dramatic in your estimation.

“If I ever see you again? If you ever think a negative thought about her again? I will rip your throat out with my teeth? K? K.”

He patted him on the leg and then reached for your hand, finally going back to the safety of the car. You hand him the keys and Shawn starts to drive you home, the events previously leaving you quiet and in a daze. Shawn peers back and forth between you and the road. When his hand comes to rest on your leg, you flinch and it sends a look of hurt across his face.

“You’re afraid of me.” He mumbled, pulling his hand back.

Shawn’s worst fear in the world was you being afraid of him. He constantly tried to not get too worked up, to not appear angry, or anything too strictly on the wolf side of him. He never talked about it, but you had a feeling it had to do with the fact that you were human,and that he was terrified of hurting you. You also kind of thought he might still think there was something that could make you run away from him. It would take time to prove him wrong.

“No.” You assured him reaching to pull his warm palm between both of yours. “I swear I’m not. I’m just still a little spooked by the situation.”

“You promise?”

You pressed your lips to his fingers and brought his palm up to your face.

“I promise.”

He frowned over at you. “I’m so sorry. I was on the phone with Brian and I didn’t even notice. I should have been there sooner, and it never would have happened.”

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for. You shouldn’t have to be with me every waking second so that a man shouldn’t feel the need to harass me. That’s on him. Not us.”

Shawn drives the rest of the way home. You couldn’t help but notice that when he arrived at the house he pulled into the driveway instead of parking on the street, a telltale sign that he was spending the night.

You peered over at him with wide eyes.

“You’re staying?”

He turned the key to the off position and leaned against the middle console to press his lips to yours.

“Of course, I am.”

There’s a bit of a routine that the two of you follow. Shawn brushes his teeth while you put your head scarf on to keep your braids tucked away. He tugs off his clothes and puts them in the hamper by the door, because you see each other so often now that clothes are bound to end up split between places. He uses your face wash because you both have combination skin and you were nothing if not willing to share. You crawl into the right side of the bed and he crawls into the left. It’s perfect.

When you reach to crawl into his lap like normal, hell bent on “you time” before bed though, he presses you softly to the sheets. He kisses you with delicate pressings of his lips, hands rubbing up and down your sides. He won’t even bite your lip tonight, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why.

“Nothing rough tonight, honey. Just want to worship you tonight. Wanna take care of you.” He hummed against your throat.

Who are you to tell him no?

His hands brush from your calves all the way up to your thighs and to your hips, propping them around him the way he wants. His lips are searching your body like he’s looking for any signs of damage, any reason to go back to that guy in the parking lot. But it’s also like he’s searching for something for him to heal.He’s so tender and slow that night that you think you took what making love could feel like for granted. There’s something special about the way that he kisses you as he moves within you, the way that he cradles your head in his palm, the way that he groans into your skin as if you could absorb the feeling of his own pleasure. It is just as intense as any time that he touches you, and yet it feels more potent somehow. More overwhelming.

“You’re so beautiful.” He huffed into your neck, hips spiraling out of control. “You feel incredible.”

Your arms are around his neck and he everytime he pulls out even the slightest amount your hips can’t help but cant up towards him. You need him right.

“Please. Please.” You whimpered.

“What do you want? Use your words baby girl.”

He tugged at your bottom lip with his thumb and you nibbled playfully at his digit before sucking it into your mouth. His hips falter and your thighs tighten in response.

“I want--want you to take me from behind. It’s always deeper that way.”

He groaned softly and kissed you till you were breathless, till your head was practically spinning and all you could think about was the taste of him.

“Only if you look back at me while I do it. Need to see these pretty eyes of yours” He hummed.

“Ok, ok. Just do it, please.”

He flips you so fast you’re left breathless, back arching and ass presented to him clear like a present. He rubs himself against you and taps incessantly at your clit with his dick. You almost cry. And then he’s pushing into you and it just goes exactly where you need it to, to the point where you’re moaning, high pitched and breathy into the air.

His hands tense on your waist.

“Jesus Christ the sounds you make.” He grunted. “Baby, I’m trying to take it slow tonight.”

You whined softly into your sheets peering back at him innocently. “Can’t help it. Just want you in me.”

His hands followed the curve of your body, gripping and squeezing you in all the right ways. He took a deep breath and pressed his body against yours. Your fingers intertwined and his hips nestled against you as he filled you up beautifully. You could feel his large, unnecessarily muscular thighs bracketing either side of your ass and his lips on your neck as he pushed into you so deep your toes curled. His hands came up to grip your boobs, fingers soft and warm. It felt so good you couldn’t stand it.

“Oh my god! Baby!”

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He hummed sucking a mark into your neck. “God, I love you.”

His hips piston in and out in rugged overwhelming lunges. He’s brushing against that part in you that makes your back arch, makes it feel like you can’t even breathe because it feels so good. You reach for his wrist just to stabilize yourself, but none of it matters when he’s hitting it like this. It’s love and it’s romantic and it’s beautiful but it’s still the greatest sex you’ve ever had. So when your leg starts to shake and his fingers are pulling your hips against him so good, you can only try not to shatter across the entire room as your orgasm takes you. And something magical happens when he bites into your shoulder and reaches his own high at the same time. It’s ecstasy. Pure fucking magic.

“Roll over baby please?” He whines when you both have the ability to breathe again.

You let him maneuver you onto your back. Even try not to throw a fit when he has to pitch the condom. And then he’s back. Wrapping your bodies in the blankets and nestling into you so soft and warm. His fingers cup your jaw, his eyes pore into you, and your stomach just fucking flutters away like the first time. Like it’s always the first time.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on.” He whispered. “Making love to you is like the greatest pleasure I’ve ever known.”

You bit your lip and snuggled closer just to kiss him, just so you could hide your face for a few seconds from how overwhelmed he seemed to be able to make you feel. His arms wrapped around you have never made you feel safer, more protected, more loved.

“I love you.” You sighed. “No one could make me feel the way that you do. I just...I’m glad I found you.”

He hummed.

“Me too sweetheart. Me too.”

#shawn mendes #Shawn mendes fic #Shawn mendes fanfic #Shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes smut #Shawn mendes fluff #Shawn mendes angst #Shawn mendes au #werewolf!shawn #werewolf au #Shawn mendes x you #Shawn mendes x y/n #Shawn mendes x reader #Shawn mendes x black reader #Shawn mendes x black woman

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damagedsmile · 4 years

Text

Drabble #20

“No protection. Out on my own with my old so-called FRIENDS scattered to the winds, not yet considered a true con, just some pup playin’ games and lookin’ for easy money. Facin’ time for some messy assault, looking at court-ordered anger therapy and payin’ fines when I’m released, tryin’ t’act like I been here before bu’ this is my first assault so in reality I’m shittin’ myself. By some twisted sense of humor I’ve been put on the violent wing even though my boots have long since cooled.

Guys bigger than me with more tattoos, more piercin’s, more experience and very few of them white lookin’ down at me all the time, their eyes givin’ nothin’ away, bu’ SOMETIMES I’m lucky in that they yell at me how they’re gunna fuck me up so I know where I stand. Some start hasslin’ me, draggin’ me in t’fights that go down on paper an’ get me warned, an’ some offer me drugs, cigarettes, anythin’ they can get in here, but such offers seem TOO GOOD t’be true so I stick with my own company.

Thought I was goin’ good; I had fought ‘em all off an’ survived with some bruises, some blood, an’ some torn muscles, an’ I hadn’t been killed yet, an’ in doin’ so I’d gained a couple friends with similar stories.They had my back an’ put in a word for me so t’lessen the friction my presence brought for many of the other more hard-core cons. I began feelin’ good about myself, feelin’ more confident, workin’ out, gettin’ my strength up, received some tatts and some respect on account of provin’ myself after I took the fall for some cigarette contraband that’d been smuggled in.

Then it went to shit. In ways I didn’t see coming but that I SHOULD’VE seen, I was too stupid and too young. I don’t know why, whether it was for power, some sort of insult towards me, a message t’a friend, hate, or even lust. I’ll never know. I don’t care t’know. All I know is that day fucked me up a little more in several ways I’ll be livin’ for the rest of my life, the scars runnin’ deeper than skin-deep, runnin’ right in to my messed-up brain and tellin’ me in future if ever I want safety, REAL protection, just fuck around an’ get locked in t’SOLITARY.

I turn my back for a split second, I let my guard down ‘cause maybe I feel big an’ tough or somethin’ dumb an’ juvenile, an’ I feel a large presence slip behind me, I hear a grunted order, then comes the shank. Can’t breathe, can’t stand, can barely see for the shower sprayin’ in to my boggled eyes! Bodies swarmin’, yellin’, hands. Blood. The cold tiles, so cold and hard, rippin’ up in t’my skin with grout, the guards turnin’ their back smugly to shout for everyone to clear out.

The shock made it less painful I guess ‘cause I didn’t cry or even scream, jus’ lay there trapped and shakin’ like a fuckin’ COWARDLY PIECE OF SHIT bu’ in my mind I screamed long an’ hard, in my mind I knew what was happenin’ so I WAS in pain. Stingin’, stabbin’, guts churnin’, muscles rippin’, blood fallin’. At one point I can move an’ I can make my mouth work again and so they hold me down, muffle me. Can’t breathe.

I hear my mother from some long distant memory comfortin’ me. ‘It’s okay, baby boy, its okay… yer gunna be okay, I promise, it’s jus’ a bitty scratch.’

It ends at last after I don’t know how long an’ I want to curl up an’ disappear bu’ I can’t move, too weak, too tired, too much pain t’even cry out. I’m taken t’the infirmary an’ while they’re checking my wound, pressure, pain, stingin’, I tell them what happened in three simple but chokin’ words that make me vomit. They don’t react, maybe not hearin’, and when I next wake up I’m drained and in pain all over.

‘Yer lucky, they just missed yer kidney, ya’ll be up before ya know it.’

I repeat my three terrible words with a shudder. They’ve washed the blood away from my legs bu’ I’m still in pain… YOU KNOW, YOU FUCKERS, YOU KNOW WHAT THEY DID.

‘Can ya prove that?’

WHY DIDN’T THEY SEE, AIN’T IT OBVIOUS? WHY DIDN’T THEY EVEN LOOK? THEY DIDN’T FUCKIN’ WANNA.THEY DON’T BELIEVE THE GUARDS LET IT HAPPEN.

‘Drop yer pants an’ turn around, ya HAVE to turn around, do ya want me to examine ya or not?’

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE.

‘We need an X-ray.’

AH FUCK PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. ARE YA LAUGHING AT ME? AM I BIG AN’ TOUGH? JESUS IS SAT ON HIS CRUCIFIX LAUGHIN’ OVER MY BED!

‘You’ll need stitches to stop that bleedin’, we’ll need to keep an eye on it and see how ya go. Yer gunna be in a lotta pain sittin’ down an’ goin’ restroom bu’ we’ll medicate that. Do ya want to fill out a report for the Warden?’

NO NO NO. NEVER. WON’T CHANGE A FUCKIN’ THING. YA DON’T WANNA KNOW, YA DON’T CARE, I DON’T EVEN WANNA SAY IT AGAIN. DON’T LOOK AT ME MOTHERFUCKER.

And however much it’s unlikely to ever happen all over again now that I’m wiser, more experienced, got a name for myself, I’ll NEVER stop second-guessin’ that the next time I’m in the slammer, or the next time, OR THE NEXT TIME, or even on these mean fucked-up streets I’ll be back there in that pain and humiliation. I’ll be force-fed reasons to mistrust strangers an’ reasons t’hate authority ALL OVER AGAIN though that damage is already done.

I BEEN A VICTIM, FUCKERS. I KNOW THAT PAIN. SOLITARY PLEASE! SOLITARY, MY PROTECTION, MY ANGEL!”

#drabbles #tw violence #you know what is insinuated here

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eeveevie · 5 years

Note

15. Catching the other before they fall for Bryn and Fiona, please?

falling

Fiona literally cannot with her feelings. Brynjolf’s grand romantic gesture only further complicates matters. Falling in love is inevitable, it seems.

:D play on words! :D

Brynjolf x f!Dragonborn (Fiona)

2524 words (under a cut) | Ao3

“Never thought I’d ever see you without ol’ Bryn attached to your hip!”

Fiona’s ears perked at Vex’s teasing voice, watching as the Breton slid into the vacant seat next to her at the Flaggon bar. There was something else in her tone—a little more taunting than playful, but Fiona chose to ignore it, knowing better than to take the bait Vex was trying to lay. Instead, she motioned for Vekel to serve them another round and smiled at her Guildmate.

“And where’s your shadow? Did Devlin decide to leave you alone for once while you bathed tonight?”

Vex breathed a laugh, taking a short swig of her ale. “Only because I threatened to depart him from his most valuable jewels if he followed me to the river,” she explained, gesturing to the dagger on her belt. “Delvin is different. I don’t want his attention. You and Brynjolf on the other hand…”

“We’ve been though this before,” Fiona grumbled as she took a long sip of her drink.

“You two sure have an interesting relationship,” she grinned, obviously noting Fiona’s discomfort with the word. “We all get a kick out of watching the two of you dance around each other, flirting.”

“And?” Fiona probed, wondering where Vex was leading this conversation.

“I’m curious to know if you had any intention of…taking it seriously with him or not,” she replied.

Fiona raised a brow, lowering her tankard slightly to peer at the other blonde with skepticism. “Is this some sort of pep-talk? ‘Break-Brynjolf’s heart and I’ll kill you?’” she asked. “Or…are you jealous?”

Vex huffed in offense, rolling her eyes. “No. Most definitely not either of those things,” she began again. “I’m asking so you don’t accidentally hurt yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

“We both know Bryn’s reputation, how many women he’s—”

“Yes, we’ve been thought this before, as well!” Fiona repeated, voice curt, teeth clenched.

She liked Vex, respected the shit out of her. Hell, even called the woman a friend. But Divines—she was a stubborn bitch sometimes. Yes, Fiona was perfectly aware of Brynjolf’s repute of a ladies’ man, but she was in no position to judge, or to be jealous. He was a handsome man, with an excellent physique—whatever he wanted to do with said body was his choice. Fiona had her fair share of fun and while that had slowed since her arrival in Riften, that didn’t mean everybody she knew had to stop having sex.

“Why are you bringing this up again?” she questioned.

“Look, I’m only saying this because I like you and I want you to stick around and not be scared off by his stupidity,” Vex sighed, eyeing the contents of her tankard. “Did you ever think that maybe Brynjolf really is after one thing with you?”

“Yes,” Fiona answered, surprising Vex. “I’m not daft.”

Before she could continue to explain that it wasn’t what she truly thought, at least not recently, Vekel came by with a refill for Vex. He was shaking his head, lips poised in a pensive frown.

“Have you given any thought that perhaps ol’ Bryn has changed?” he asked.

“Pfft,” Vex waved him off as she practically inhaled her second ale.

Vekel peered at Fiona with a softer expression. “I’ve known Bryn a long time and Vex is right about one thing—we enjoy watching the two of you,” he smiled warmly and something about it that made her cheeks flush. “But because I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bryn act so…carefree. Around anyone, let alone a woman.”

“Ugh,” Vex groaned, clearly unhappy with Vekel’s sappy comments. She continued to drink.

“I also see and hear everything that happens in these Guildmember’s lives, regardless if they like it,” he made a lingering glare at Vex as she silently mocked him. “And I haven’t seen Bryn sneaking off to be with anybody since you’ve arrived. No rumors or gossip from the Bee and Barb or the bunkhouse either. Taking in the time before, that’s a considerable dry spell for him! Must account for something.”

“Sure, air out all of Bryn’s sex issues,” Vex mumbled.

“He’s not getting any younger,” Vekel continued, ignoring the other woman. “Not one’s first reason for wanting to slow down and rethink how to go about love and romance, but perhaps he’s outgrown the wild days of his youth.”

“That’s a load of horseshit and you know it,” Vex argued, face scrunched up.

Fiona meanwhile felt her gut clench at Vekel’s use of the word love. He probably didn’t even realize he had used it, but it had resonated so deep within her that the rest of their conversation fell away. All she felt was an overwhelming sense of dread. Sure, she liked Brynjolf—really liked him. She liked having his attention, his flirtations, his company, and everything in-between. But the thought of anything more, was terrifying. The thought of anything less—being reduced to just another roll in the hay? That was somehow entirely worse. What was so wrong about keeping their dynamic the way it was?

Without another word she stood up, the sharp squeak of her barstool causing the two to stop whatever they were saying to stare at her in confusion. Fiona shook her head—she wanted to say something to fill the quiet, to offer some excuse, but her mind was so muffled that all she could do was sigh and walk away, defeated. She hoped the two wouldn’t read into her silence as she departed through to the Cistern.

It was out of habit that Fiona tried to find Brynjolf as she crossed through the walkway, her eyes darting across the waterways to spot the familiar auburn of his hair. Vex and Vekel’s words would continue to cause her turmoil until she could see him, speak to him about all of this. Either directly, or by some other means. Maybe it would put her mind at ease. Or ruin everything. The contingency plan Fiona always thought of when her anxiety flared flashed through her mind—run—but she pushed away the idea. She was past running away from her problems. Well…sort of.

Instead, all she found were the usual Guild members and Delvin, who was perched up on the counter next to the alchemy lab. He was flicking through a small notebook, lips twisting up into a smirk as he noticed Fiona approaching.

“Ah, there’s my favorite girl,” he greeted.

Fiona chuckled, shaking her head. “Your favorite? What, this week?”

Calling his bluff, Delvin copied her laugh and shut his book to give her his full attention. “Hmm, but I can tell I’m not the man you’re looking for,” he said pointedly. “Bryn isn’t around, unfortunately. Left this mornin’ on a job for Mercer.”

While Fiona tried not to react to this information, she must’ve frowned enough for Delvin to notice, his eyebrows perking up curiously. “Why? Upset he didn’t take you along? Mercer didn’t really give him the option—”

“Nothing like that,” Fiona interrupted. She understood that there were some jobs that Brynjolf had to take on his own, being the Second for the Guild. As she was still working her way through the ranks and proving her worth to the Guildmaster, she couldn’t expect to always be by his side on every job.

Delvin leaned forward, still interested. “Then what is it?”

Fiona reluctantly divulged the basics of the situation to Delvin, carefully observing his features for even the slightest hint of humor or mockery. She trusted Delvin—maybe more than anyone else in the Guild besides Brynjolf—and valued his opinion, even if he was the most lecherous of them. In the months that she had known him, he had always offered the soundest advice in a straight-forward and blunt way—something she appreciated. Hopefully now he could do the same when it came to affairs that were a little more delicate.

“Well, well,” he sighed with a grin, reaching up to scratch at his jawline. “I must say my little Vex is being quite the sweetheart looking out for you, even if she’s completely baseless.”

Fiona widened her eyes, slightly shocked. “What?”

“There’s some truth to what Vekel says,” he started. “Bryn’s been acting…I wouldn’t say strangely, just differently. A good different.” Delvin’s smile grew as he thought of his friend fondly. “I’ve known that bastard longer than anyone here. If this new side of Brynjolf is here to stay, then good.”

“Even if it makes him a big ol’ romantic softy,” Delvin continued.

That alarmed Fiona. “Delvin, do you know something?”

“Hmm?” he shrugged. “He’s been going on about doin’ something nice for you, after all the good luck you’ve given us—grain of salt dear, we were about six drinks in when this topic came up.”

Regardless, this information didn’t settle right with her. If anything, it only made her feel more anxious than before. Of all the times for Brynjolf to not be in the Cistern or Riften. But he had only just left and maybe she could track him through the forest paths—she’d always been good at that. Delvin only flashed a knowing smile as she slinked away, headed for the graveyard exit.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Fiona paused, an unpleasant shiver crawling up her spine as Mercer slowly stepped to prevent her leaving. She faced him with a neutral expression, holding back the urge to shove him out of the way. She wasn’t sure what was wrong with the Guildmaster, but she knew that Mercer was not a man to be trusted. Her instincts hadn’t failed her yet when traveling Skyrim, but she had to be careful now that she was seeking refuge in Riften.

“I have a job from Delvin,” she lied, knowing he must’ve seen her speaking with the Breton. “Falkreath. Should be back—”

“It will have to wait,” Mercer interrupted. “I have some work for you here in the city, so you won’t be leaving.”

Fiona didn’t appreciate his tone. If only he knew that she could tear his body to shreds with one simple shout from her lips. It would be so satisfying, but ultimately her undoing. Instead, she breathed out and nodded, taking the missive from his hand.

“We’ll be watching you.”

A threat that only had Fiona feeling more conflicted than ever. She exited the Ratways into the misty evening of the Riften courtyard, eventually finding her way to the Bee and Barb. She ordered a hot meal and mulled over her limited options as she read over the list of menial tasks Mercer wanted done. By the time she was finished, she decided to spend the evening in one of the available tavern rooms. She was aggravated with Mercer, but there was that lingering feeling that while Brynjolf was away, the Cistern was not the safest place for her to be. Dragonborn or not.

It was the middle of the night when Fiona awoke, suddenly sensing that something wasn’t right. She could hear the quiet sounds of the tavern downstairs—nothing sounded amiss—no brawls, no panic, yet her heart was hammering in her chest. The room was practically pitch black, save for the sliver of light coming in through the bottom of door. Fiona squinted, noticing the light was obstructed. Something—someone was outside her door.

She exhaled and slowly began to move. Feet on the ground,she first reached for her dagger on the nightstand before silently creeping towards the door. An assassin? Would Mercer really stoop so low to remove her from the Guild? Worse thoughts wormed their way through her mind. Had destiny finally caught up to her by sending the Greybeards to fetch her away? There was a special irony in finding them more frightening than assassins.

Fiona carefully removed the chair she had wedged under the doorknob (she never trusted tavern locks) and then quietly unlocked the door. She jerked the door wide open but before she could drop back into a defensive stance a body came tumbling through the doorframe back-first with a loud yelp—a familiar body. She scrambled to catch Brynjolf, dropping her dagger, but the combined weight of his body and the sheer shock of his appearance had them toppling to the ground.

Fiona leaned herself up and looked down at him—flat on his back, wide eyed but smiling that ever-ridiculous smile. Her eyes flicked to where his hands were clutching a bunch of parchment wrapped flowers. Her chest tightened and she gulped. Her heart was racing again, this time for an entirely different reason.

“Brynjolf?”

“Help an old man up, will you lass?”

She forced a smile and pushed herself off the floor, reaching down to tug on his free hand to pull him to his feet. Simultaneously she moved to light the oil lamp on her nightstand while he closed the door. Finally, she snatched up her night-coat from the storage-chest tugging it across her shoulders much to Brynjolf’s disappointment as she covered up the exposed skin her nightgown showed. His eyes still flickered as he looked over her form, silently drinking her in.

They met halfway, standing near the foot of the bed. Fiona didn’t feel uncomfortable, per-say, just nervous. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said. Her gaze danced across his arms where the bundle of flowers was, and he softly laughed. “I brought you these, I hope they are to your liking.”

She gasped when he handed them over, their color visible now in the light. Yellow-mountain flowers. Incredibly rare and her absolute favorite. Fiona racked her mind trying to recall when she had ever told Brynjolf about them when she was hit with a sudden wave of collected memories. Falkreath—months ago now, when they barely knew each other, and were making an effort to learn more. But they had been drinking, and she didn’t think that he was paying attention, let alone that he would remember.

“Brynjolf, I—” she breathed, overwhelmed. “I don’t know what to say.” When she looked at him again he was smiling, a mix of self-satisfaction and wonderment as he watched her reaction. She found it incredibly difficult to focus on the shine of his eyes. “This seems like quite the grand gesture, even for you, Bryn. Where did you even find them?”

“It’s a secret,” he teased. “I’ll take you there one day.”

All of Fiona’s earlier emotions came crashing down, causing an incredible ache to her chest. She blinked hard to prevent the sting of tears that threatened to develop, not wanting to cry in front of him. Not over something like this.

“What are you doing, Bryn?” she asked, bluntly. She decided direct honesty would be best this time. “Whatever it is, I like what we have now. I don’t want that to change.”

Brynjolf’s demeanor didn’t change, as if he hadn’t just been rejected—to some degree. He shifted closer, hands covering hers. She didn’t pull away.

“I think it’s a little late for that, lass.”

The worst part was that he was right.

#elder scrolls: skyrim #skyrim #brynjolf #brynjolf x f!dovahkiin #brynjolf x f!dragonborn #otp: I Shall taunt you a second time #fanfic #rhetoricalrogue #potato answer

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sparkles-and-trash · 6 years

Text

Stalker, Chapter 1

A Sweet Pea x Reader fanfiction

“...little bit of poison in me, I can taste your skin in my teeth”

Warnings: Abusive behavior (stalking), swearing, sexual content in later chapters

Notes: Tag list is still open, let me know if you want to be on it!

Ships: Sweet Pea x Reader, Kevin x Fangs (later chapters), Choni, Bughead, Varchie

Summary: Y/N have been living in the Southside of Riverdale for about six months, but as her recently divorced mother meets a new, wealthy man on the Northside of town that Y/N can’t stand, she finds herself basically living alone in their old house near the trailerpark. Luckily she have her two best friends, Cheryl Blossom and Kevin Keller to keep her company, and a blossoming crush on a certain tall, dark, brooding Serpent boy to keep her busy. But just as her life seems to be getting back on track, she starts getting weird notes, letters and pictures delivered to her, and as the feeling of being followed seems to be very real, she gets help from unexpected places and people to keep her safe, and to find out who is stalking her.

Sweet Pea’s POV

There were times in Sweet Pea’s life he was glad he listened to his friends advice.

Like the time he started seeing a tutor, and found out he was dyslexic, not just stupid as he had always thought.

Or the time Fangs and Toni had literally tricked him into trying out for their High Schools basketball team last spring.

Then, there were times they were simply wrong, and he should have listened to his gut and done what he wanted all along.

Like tonight, for example.

Going to parties with people from school was something Sweet Pea usually wouldn’t even think about doing, but this one was held at the home of Toni’s girlfriend, Cheryl, and he had been led to think this one wouldn’t be that bad.

But, of course it turned out like every other party. Beer kegs, jocks in letterman jackets, girls in way too skimpy outfits and too high heels stumbling around like drunk deers, giggling at everything and nothing.

So, that’s why the tall Serpent was currently standing with Fangs in a dark corner of the living room, hoping to God that Fangs would come to his senses and agree to go home soon.

It didn’t really seems like it though, as the shorter boy was standing next to him with a small smile on his face, nodding his head to the stupid music and looking like he was having a jolly old time.

Sweet Pea had no idea how he did it.

“Come on, Pea, come mingle with me!” Fangs said and lightly shoved the taller boy with his shoulder.

Sweet Pea looked at Fangs like he had grown, well... Fangs.

“Mingle?! Are you serious right now?” Sweet Pea shook his head violently.

Fangs rolled his eyes and kept dancing lightly to the music, mouthing the words to himself.

“Yes, grumpy, mingle!” he said and rolled his eyes. “There are plenty of nice people here, you just gotta stop staring everyone down!”

Sweet Pea raised his eyebrows at his friends and smirked.

“Plenty? You and I both know there’s only one person you’re looking for, and I think I saw him with Lodge and Y/N earlier, he looked like he was in a real party mood.”

Fangs blushed real bad, real fast, and Sweet Pea was pleased with himself for a few seconds, until he spotted something that made him furrow his brows.

A familiar girl was leaning against the doorframe into the living room, looking horribly pale and wobbly, even though she wasn’t even wearing high heels and were not holding a drink, like most of the other wobbly girls around them.

Suddenly their eyes met, and he felt a small jolt rush trough his body as he realized who she was, and he quickly averted his eyes so she wouldn’t see him blush.

But then she started moving towards them, and he realized something seemed... off.

“Hey, Fangs, have you ever seen Y/N drunk before?” he asked his friend, as he furrowed his brows, watching the girls moving towards them.

Fangs grinned stupidly.

“What, think you have a chance if she’s drunk?” he asked, but his grin quickly faded as Y/N reached them, and almost fell straight to the ground.

"Woah!” Sweet Pea yelled, and shot forward to grab her, and luckily Fangs did the same, so they managed to hold her up from sinking into a heap.

“Yo, Y/N, you okay?” Fangs asked, eyes wide as saucers.

“Cheryl... Kevin?” Y/N mumbled in a slurring voice, looking up at Sweet Pea with a pleading look in her eyes.

“You want us to get Cheryl?” Fangs asked, looking at Sweet Pea with a worried look on his face.

The girl was quiet for a while, just looking at the with a glazed look.

“Sweet Pea... Fangs, I-I-hhh...” she clearly tired to say something else, but her voice trailed off, and Sweet Pea felt a growing sense of dread looking at her.

“Yeah...” he said carefully, but not carefully enough it seemed, as Y/N gasped softly, and staggered straight into the wall next to them.

“Hey!” Fangs gasped, and shot forward to grab her arm.

“It’s okay, don’t run!” he added softly, and luckily the girls stopped, and once again looked at the two boys with a hazed look on her face.

“Someone…” the girl whispered, looking between them with huge eyes, “Someone is following me…”

Fangs and Sweet Pea exchanged wide eyed glances, before looking around the room to see if anyone was watching them, but none of them could spot any obvious starers.

“...put something in my beer, I think… they’re here, they are watching… always watching…” she trailed off, before she put her hands in front of her face, as if trying to hide from the whole party.

“Okay, I’m getting Cheryl, and Toni, and maybe Kevin.” Fangs said, and Sweet Pea nodded.

“I think there’s a guest bedroom on the second floor, next to the bathroom, see if you can take her there, maybe?” he added, and Sweet Pea once again nodded.

As Fangs went to look for her friends, Sweet Pea put her arm around Y/N’s waist, trying to both hold her up, and guide her in the right direction at the same time.

After a little stumbling and a couple of almost falls, he managed to get her to the staircase, but looking up at it, he realized she would never be able to walk up it on her own.

“Y/N?” He said carefully, and she turned her head slowly, looking up at him with her big, tired eyes.

“I think I’m gonna have to carry you upstairs, is that okay?” he asked, feeling terribly awkward and stupid, scratching the back of his neck.

But Y/N nodded and mumbled something that sounded like “thanks...” and leaned her head on his shoulder, clearly not able to stay on her feet much longer.

Sweet Pea looked around quickly and sighed, relived nobody seemed to be around to see this as he knew very well how it had to look, before he, as carefully as he could, lifted Y/N off her feet and carried her up the stairs, bridal style.

The guest bedroom was right were Fangs had said it would be, and Sweet Pea slowly laid Y/N down on the big four poster bed, careful not to startle her.

She seemed to be asleep though, and he sat down carefully at the bedside, looking at her intently to make sure she was still breathing.

It was strange really, seeing her like this. They weren’t that close or anything, but he did consider her a friend, as she hung out at the Whyrm with Cheryl and Toni a lot, and lived at the Southside of town like him.

She was usually laughing or smiling, her weird dark humor keeping everyone around er entertained and sometimes frighted, and she never let anyone walk around sad and alone, which was one of the reasons Sweet Pea had taken an interest in her in the first place.

It was sad really, seeing someone so alive and fun like this, all worn out and scared.

Just as he got up from the bedside to check if Fangs had found the others, the door shot up and four loud, confused, and rather desperate people shit into the room.

“How is she?” Cheryl asked ask she pushed Sweet Pea out of the way to sit down on the bedside he had just gotten up from.

Sweet Pea rolled his eyes a little, but tried to tell himself she was just worried about her friend.

“She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.” he said, and looked over at Y/N’s sleeping form with a sinking feeling.

“What happened, exactly?” Kevin asked softly, looking up at Sweet Pea.

“Fangs said it seemed like she was drugged, and that she was scared..?” he added, looking over at his best friend with a sad look in in eyes.

“She’s clearly been roofied!” Cheryl said, as she brushed some hair out of Y/N’s face and got up.

Toni, who up until this moment had been quiet, looked over at Sweet Pea and Fangs with a serious frown.

“Did she say anything about who might have done this?” she asked, and Fangs shook his head.

“No, she just said some real weird shit, something about someone following her, watching her everywhere... it was really creepy.” He said and looked up at Sweet Pea, who nodded in agreement.

“What, like a stalker or something?” Kevin asked with wide eyes.

Sweet Pea shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess, do you know about anything weird that’s been going on with her lately?” he asked, and Kevin just shook his head.

“How do we know it’s not just because of the drugs, she might be hallucinating?” Fangs asked, looking between his friends with raised eyebrows.

Toni shook her head.

“I don’t think roofies does that…”

But before she could continue, a small noice from Y/N made Sweet Pea look over at her, and his eyes widen as he realized she was trying to sit up, and he quickly told everyone to shut up as he hurried over to her side.

She slowly reached out a shaky hand and handed him a small crumpled piece of paper that she clearly had been holding onto.

“At the bottom of my drink…” she mumbled, before falling back again, closing her eyes and breathing softly, sound asleep once again.

The entire room was quiet as the Sweet Pea slowly unfolded the note, and everyone leaned in to see what it was.

As he read it, Sweet Pea felt a like a cold hand had just brushed against him, and he shivered a bit.

Kevin had his hand over his mouth, and Toni and Kevin’s eyes were huge, while Cheryl looked like she was ready to kill.

The words were not not really that scary, but in a shaky, childish handwriting, and in the context of things, it still made them all feel uneasy and worried.

“TAG, YOU’RE IT MY DARLING… READY OR NOT, HERE I COME”

“What the actual fuck?!” Kevin hissed, and snatched the note from Sweet Pea’s grip.

Before anyone else got to weigh in, Cheryl had clapped her hans twice, getting everyones attention.

“Okay, time to work!” she said and Toni grinned slightly.

“TT, Kevin, you come with me, help me get all these sheeps out of my house. Party’s over.”

Toni and Kevin nodded.

“Fangs, you go look for Bughead and get them to stay, they’re into shit like this, right? Maybe they’ll have any ideas to who could be doing this to dear Y/N, we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Fangs nodded, with big eyes.

“And you,” Cheryl said, and pointed to Sweet Pea, “you’re big and scary, stay here with Y/N, and kill anyone who’s not any of us who tries to get in here, and make sure she’s breathing, ok?”

Sweet Pea crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, but nodded anyways.

Honestly, he wasn’t planning on leaving Y/N’s side no matter what Cheryl told him.

“When everything is done, you come back here, and we’ll talk in the hallway so we don’t disturb her.” Cheryl finished, before ushering everyone but Sweet Pea out of the room.

She stopped in the doorway, and looked back at him.

“Find me if she gets worse, and don’t you dare be a creep.” she warned.

“What the fuck Cheryl, i’m the one who got her up here!” Sweet Pea hissed, and Cheryl sighed.

“I know, okay? Thank you for that.”

And with that she was gone, and Sweet Pea was once again alone with the sleeping girl.

He had a feeling he wasn’t gonna get much sleep tonight.

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