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babybluebex · 1 year

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𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝟑 | 𝐣𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐡 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you save the day when you and joseph make a mistake, and then, six months later, you and joseph make a big decision. part three of three 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: joseph quinn (professor!au) x fem!reader 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: rpf (real person fiction), mentions of anxiety/panic attacks, time jump 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: the last part of this fic!! thanks everyone for reading it!! :)

“Okay, let’s not panic,” you said quickly, but you weren’t fast enough. Joseph was already pale and looked queasy, and you gently rubbed his chest to try to soothe his erratic heartbeat. You could feel it against your fingers, quick and erratic, and you frowned. “Hey, Joey, baby, calm down.”

“I can’t be calm,” Joseph told you harshly, his big eyes full of dark panic. “My-My flashdrive, all of my slides and notes, we forgot them! We have to go back!”

“I know,” you said softly. “We fucked up, but we can fix this, there’s always a way to fix it. I’ll call the hotel and ask if they’ve seen your briefcase, and I’ll ask them to hold it at the front desk until I can get there. All you have to do is stay here and stay calm, alright? I’ll handle this.”

“It was my mistake—“ Joseph started, and you shook your head.

“Our mistake,” you said softly. “It was our mistake. We’re both at fault. But that doesn’t mean we can’t fix it. Give me your phone, Joey, and I’ll call the hotel. Sit down for a minute, do you want me to find you a drink?”

Joseph staggered into one of the nearby seats and sat down firmly, and he shook his head, burying his forehead in his hand. You kneeled down next to him and captured his face in your hands, and you whispered, “I’ve got this, okay? When have I ever let you down?”

“Never,” Joseph said quickly. “You’ve never let me down.” With that, he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket, passing it to you. Quickly, you looked up the hotel and found a number for the front desk, and you punched it in. Your hands were shaking as you held the phone out on speakerphone, so you both could hear it, and the receptionist answered the phone, thankfully, quickly. “Yeah, um, hi,” you started. “My boss and I are in town for the academic conference, and we seem to have left his briefcase in the lobby. Is it still there? It’s brown leather with—“

“Somebody turned it into the front desk,” the receptionist told you, and you watched Joseph relax, his shoulders slumping and a sigh issuing from his pink lips.

“Oh, good,” you sighed in relief. “I’ll be by in a few minutes to pick it up, thank you!”

Joseph still looked ill as you pushed his phone back into his pocket, and you took his hands into yours and rubbed your thumb across the smooth back of his hand. “You’ll be okay, Joey,” you told him quickly. “I’ll get the flashdrive from the hotel and I’ll be right back in time for your lecture, and everything will be fine, and we can pretend this never happened. Okay?”

Joseph nodded slowly, his eyes hollow and empty, and you sighed. “Joey?” you asked. “C’mon, baby, look at me. I can fix this.”

“I know you can fix it,” Joseph told you. “I never doubted for a second how capable you are. I’m just beating myself up over this.”

“Well, stop it,” you mumbled lightly, trying to smile. “It was a mistake. It’s easy to fix, but I need to get going to actually fix it. Okay? I’ll be back in, like, less than an hour.”

Joseph raised his eyes to you, locking his gaze on yours, and you bit your bottom lip as you tried to resist. You couldn’t kiss him right now. You wanted to kiss him so badly, to relieve some of his stress even a little bit, but if anybody walked in and saw you kissing him, that would be terrible. You were already pushing it by kneeling in front of him and holding his hand, but a kiss would cross the line. “Joey,” you whispered. “We can’t—”

“Blame it on me,” Joseph said quickly. He leaned in and, without a single moment of hesitancy, kissed you. His mouth was soft against yours for only a second, and you squeezed his hand as you chased him back with a kiss. He was gentle and sweet, and you sighed heavily as you broke the kiss.

“We can talk about this at the hotel,” you told him softly. “But… I want more of this. I want more of you. Let me go, and we’ll discuss this later. But, umm… I love you. Okay? I love you.”

Joseph was quiet, a tired soft of crooked smile on his face, and you smiled when he nodded. “Good,” he said. “I love you too.”

Before anyone could catch you, you stood up and smoothed back Joseph’s curls, and you kissed his head gently before you hurried out of the room. You couldn’t wait for a car to get you and take you back to the hotel— it would take too long. You could probably run to the hotel and get there quicker than if you waited on a car. Your lungs burned as you raced past people, throwing out “Sorry!” and “Excuse me!” Finally, you pushed open the door and ran out to the street, skidding on the wet, rainy pavement. You shrieked, but kept upright, and you grinned sheepishly at the man that stood next to you at the crosswalk. He had no time to say anything to you, though, because the walk sign turned green, and you ran across the street.

The hotel was only a few blocks from the convention center, and you probably could have walked from the hotel there in the first place, but your heart raced as you ran. You had to do this for Joseph. It wouldn’t make or break his career, but it certainly would help him in his pursuit for a respectable career. You knew that this assistant position was only for a little while, just for the rest of the semester, but a plan formed in your head as you stopped at another crosswalk. You panted as you thought hard about it, and you decided as the walk sign turned again: you would quit when you got back home. You would quit, and you and Joseph could be free to be together with only very little complications. Sure, it would be difficult, but not nearly as hard as if you were still his assistant.

The hotel lobby was cold, and the raininess of the outdoors didn’t help with the shivers that ran up and down your back. You breathed quickly as you grabbed at your jacket sleeves and tugged them hard down over your shaking hands, and you approached the front desk. “Hi,” you said quickly. “Umm, I called a few minutes ago about a briefcase that was left here?”

“Yes, ma’am, we have it,” the receptionist told you, and she bent down underneath the desk and passed you the worn leather briefcase.

“Oh, thank you,” you sighed, taking it into your arms. You knew that there was a lot riding on getting the briefcase back to Joseph, but the squelch of your socks in your shoes was making you feel almost nauseous. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

The receptionist nodded and smiled, and you held the briefcase tight as you made your way to the elevator bay. You at least needed to change socks and calm down a little before running back to the convention center, and the warmth of the hotel room was already easing you. You set the briefcase down on the unmade bed and went to your luggage to retrieve warm socks, and you paused as you passed the trash can. There was the box from the pill that you had taken, but there was something underneath it too, something that you hadn’t noticed before. You didn’t make it a habit to sort through the trash, so you weren’t surprised that you hadn’t seen it, and you quickly knelt down to the floor and grabbed the paper out of the wastebasket.

It was covered in Joseph’s handwriting, all scribbled and hurried. Dear Y/N, it read, and your eyes already started to water. If you’re reading this, it’s because you’ve woken up and I’m not there to greet you. I’ve gone to the pharmacy to get you a morning-after pill, and I’m leaving you a little note so you don’t wake up to nothing. I really enjoyed last night, and I want you to know that. There’s a small part of me that wishes it happened differently, but I’m glad that we did it. I’ve had my eye on you for a long time, and it was killing me to keep to myself, but now we have each other. Maybe we do. Maybe you just slept with me because you had been drinking. Maybe you didn’t want to sleep with me. Fuck this. Never mind.

So that’s why the note was crumpled and thrown away. That’s why he had been so cagey when he came in. He had so many doubts about everything that had happened that it soured his mood. You wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t second-guessed himself, if he had been able to express himself the way he wanted to. Would he have hugged you and kissed you and told you that he loved you? It made you feel better that he was so icy because he was in his own head and that he didn’t actually regret it.

The run back to the convention center felt a lot quicker than it did the first time around, even though you were weighed down with Joseph’s briefcase now. You were going to kiss him. You didn’t care who saw. When you entered the lecture hall, you were going to give him his bag and kiss him and quit your job on the spot. You were going to be with him. Joseph made you happy and you were tired of sacrificing your own happiness.

Now, the convention center seemed warmer, more people milling around, waiting for the lecture to start. There was a man at the door to Joseph’s lecture hall, guarding the door and not letting people in too early, and you flashed him your STAFF badge before he opened the door and let you in. You spotted Joseph instantly, in the corner with a paper cup of coffee in his hand, animatedly chatting to a tall, blond man. Fear gripped your heart and you nearly said ‘fuck it’ to your plan, but you needed to do it.

Joseph didn’t even have a second to greet you before you were tugging him in by the lapels of his cardigan and kissing him. He tasted like coffee now, and he grunted softly before his hand clasped around your face, holding you tenderly and kissing you back. “Honey, what—“ he started as the kiss broke, and you smiled.

“I quit,” you told him.

His big eyes nearly popped out of his skull. “You quit?” He repeated. “But what about—“

“We can talk about everything later,” you said firmly, and you pushed the briefcase into his hands. “So, Joey, who is this?”

Joseph looked from you to the man for a moment, obviously contemplating something, and his arm wrapped tight around your middle and drew you into his body. “Dr. Bower,” he said. “This is my girlfriend.”

SIX MONTHS LATER

The sun shined through the window, and you woke up happy.

That was how it typically was nowadays. You would wake up to Joey in the kitchen, brewing some tea for the both of you, and he would have breakfast ready by the time you showered. You’d come into the kitchen and he would sweep you into his arms and kiss you silly before letting you eat breakfast, and he would always have to hurry off to a lecture before he could properly greet you.

That wasn’t what was happening, though. Joseph wasn’t in the kitchen when you woke up; he was still in bed, glasses on his face, reading his book. His bare, freckled chest caught the sun and danced off of it, and you sighed and rustled the bedsheets as you blinked away the sleep. “Hi, Joey,” you whispered, and he looked over at you with a slight smile before he shut his book, reaching to place it on the bedside table.

“Hi, honey,” he whispered back, and you wriggled into his arms, pressing yourself against his warm chest. You could feel his heartbeat against your cheek, steady and even, and you kissed the middle of his chest as his arms tightened around you and squeezed. “How’d you sleep?”

“Mmm,” you hummed softly. “Good. You?”

“Fine,” Joseph said. “Except somebody kept putting their cold feet on my leg.”

“Your leg is very warm,” you told him, peering up at him. “I don’t know what to tell you, but you run hot and it’s nice on cold nights.”

“No need for a hot water bottle with me ‘round, huh?” Joseph asked, and you grinned into his chest.

“I like when your accent gets thick,” you whispered. “You sound so silly. In a good way.”

“Oh, piss off,” Joseph mumbled, and you giggled. “I had a bad dream last night.”

“Oh, no,” you frowned. “What was it?”

“I dreamt that…” Joseph started, and he huffed. His finger lightly played with your hair as he thought, and he finally said, “That I lost you. It was tragic, really, we were fighting and I said some nasty things and you just— the look on your face was devastating. You took off your ring and left, and I just… I was filled with this terrible feeling, my stomach felt sick and I wanted to cry.”

“I’m right here, baby,” you whispered, pressing your hand into his chest. Your ring, his ring, glittered in the sunlight, and you sighed. “I’m never going to leave your side. Not after everything we’ve been through.”

“You’re a darling,” Joseph told you, lightly tracing his finger along your jaw. “Remember last year, the academic conference we went to?”

“The first time you kissed me,” you recalled, and Joseph let out his cute little chortle that you loved.

“Amongst other things,” he laughed. “But I knew that first night, as you slept on my chest, that was the night that I knew that I had to marry you. There wasn’t any other option for me. It was you, or nothing.”

“You’re cute,” you told him, and Joseph lowered his eyes from yours, letting his hand drift off of your face.

“I didn’t care that you were still my assistant,” he said. “I knew that, somehow, someday, I’d have you. My darling girl, you had me right from the start. I was always yours; all you had to do was ask. Or, I guess, march up to me and shove my briefcase into my hands and kiss me and tell me.”

“You never were good at starting things,” you told him, and Joseph smiled.

“But this is all I ever wanted,” Joseph said. “As you slept that night, all tangled in my arms, I dreamt about exactly this. Having you in our bed, in our home… It’s all I’ve ever needed. I love you so much that even a dream about breaking up makes me sick.”

“I love you too, baby,” you told him softly. “I’ll never leave you. This ring is it for me, I’ll always want you. Even when I’m all old and wrinkled, and when you’re all old and wrinkled, I’ll still be trying to jump your bones.” Joseph huffed out a laugh, and you did too, and you smiled. “Alright? Put that to rest, my love.”

“What would I do without you?” Joseph asked, and he leaned down and kissed you softly. He tasted like morning breath and his lips were dry, but you loved every second of it, and you slipped his leg between yours, leaning up and pressing your tongue to his lips. He accepted you and let your tongue slip into his mouth, and you sighed as his hands cradled your face and he rubbed his thigh between your legs. “You wanna?” He asked softly, sounding almost excited and giddy, like he couldn’t believe his luck. You could hardly believe yours, and you nodded quickly.

“No condom,” you whispered. “I wanna feel you.”

“Anything for you, honey,” Joseph whispered. “I love you so much.”

“Nothing could ever make me stop loving you,” you told him, and Joseph smiled at you. Before he could even properly kiss you, though, the buzzer on his alarm started to go off, and he grunted in surprise and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Oh, fuck,” he mumbled. “Office hours. Postpone this ‘til tonight?”

“You’ve got it,” you told him, and you flopped onto your back as Joseph pulled himself out of bed. He was naked, beautifully exposed to you, and he went into his closet silently for a moment before his voice drifted out to you.

“Honey, what shirt today?” He asked, and he came out holding two shirts, a blue striped one, and a yellow one, the yellow one that he had worn that very first day.

“That one,” you said, pointing at the yellow shirt. “The butter-yellow one.”

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn rpf #joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn #joe quinn rpf #joe quinn x reader

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bad268 · 4 months

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hiii! any chance you could write a Sebastian Montoya enemies to lovers fic? in my Sebas era at the moment 🤩🥳

Because of You (Sebastian Montoya X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 2/3

Requested: Clearly (thank you for being patient I loved this request!)

Warnings: road rash, injury, mentions of being attacked, hurt/comfort, “i had nowhere else to go” i hate myself

Pronouns: First person (I/me)

W.C. 2015

Summary: Classic enemies to lovers with Sebas

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Racing was my life. For as long as I could remember, I was racing, and I was racing well. I rose through the ranks relatively quickly going straight from karting to single-seater championships within two years, and I was already catching the eyes of different Formula 1 teams.

One thing is for certain: I had my fair share of haters. One of which was someone I looked up to while karting who then turned out to be my teammate in F4 and FRECA at Prema and eventually, in F3 for HiTech. That person would be none other than Sebastian Montoya.

It was all fine when we first met during preseason testing for F4. We were getting along great, found some common interests, and he gave me some tips and tricks he used to prepare for a race. All was well until the season started, and I started winning.

It was like I was no longer a friend but a competitor, so I did what I always did and reciprocated the acts. If he was going to be cold to me, I would be cold right back. I was taught to never waste my time on people who didn’t deserve it, and when he ran me off the road during a crucial race of the FRECA season, I saw red.

“You gonna run me off the track again, Montoya?” I teased as we both walked out of the HiTech garage toward our new cars for free practice in Spielberg for the F3 race. “I don’t think the bosses would appreciate that, honestly.”

“If you stay out of my way, we won’t have a problem,” He sneered, rolling his eyes as he finished doing up his race suit.

“Oh, trust me. I plan to be nowhere near you,” I laughed as I pulled my balaclava over my head and started preparing the straps to my helmet. “Besides, it’s not like I have a problem with keeping my nose clean.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed given that you crashed into Gabriele last week,” Sebastian mocked, pointing out my DNF from a couple of weeks ago.

“Because you turned wide!” I exclaimed, slamming my helmet down on the table. “You turned into me, and I took evasive action. It wasn’t my fault. You were the one that got the penalty, dumbass.”

“At least I finished the race,” he snickered as he turned to walk toward his car.

“And at least I can run in the top 3,” I whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

“Mind saying that a little louder?” Sebastian snapped, turning to face me as he came to stand directly in front of you.

“I said, at least I can run in the top 3,” I stated firmly, not backing down from his threatening stance. “At least I can say that I’ve won in Monaco. I’m keeping up in the title fight, and where are you? Oh, right! Down in 14th. Our gap is almost as bad as Alonso on Stroll.”

“My car is shit, and you know that,” he seethed, getting up in my face as he pointed a pinger at my chest.

“Excuses, excuses. We have the same fucking car, Seb,” I pointed out as I glared at him. “We all have the same fucking car, so don’t blame the team for your shitty driving style. Maybe if you knew how to drive, you would keep up.”

“You two can fuck later, get in your cars!” Dino shouted from the next garage over as he put his helmet on.

“Shut up, Dino!”

The race went great for me. I secured pole position, scored third in the sprint, and won the feature race. These points shot me up from third to leading the championship. I was on top of the world. I decided I was going to celebrate for the night before I left for the next race.

I was walking through the streets of Monaco pretty late at night. I was pretty sure I knew where I was going but it was also my first time in Monaco. I should have followed the map closer. I don’t remember if I walked into a bad area or if it was some crazy haters. All that I remembered was them yelling at me.

“You’re stealing a seat from people who really deserve it!”

“You’re never going to win the championship!”

“Gabriel deserved that win! You’re just in his way!”

“Undeserved! You’re just lucky!”

At some point, it got physical, and they didn’t stop until they heard sirens in the vicinity. I was breathing heavily as I picked myself up off the ground, immediately taking notice of the soreness across my face and my limbs. Somehow, I limped my way back to the hotel I would need to check out of in the morning.

I got into my room, and as soon as I saw my reflection, I broke. It hit like a ton of bricks (and looked like it too). I slid down the wall, letting it all out. Maybe I didn’t deserve to be in F3. Maybe I didn’t deserve my seat. There are definitely more talented drivers out there. Heck, Ollie swept the weekend at the last race in Baku, and I couldn’t get past Fornaroli for second in the sprint. Maybe they were right.

I took a deep breath, stood up, and moved toward the restroom to get a good look at the wounds and clean them. My right eye was black and bruised, there was a large gash on my eyebrow, my lip was bleeding, and don’t even get me started on the road rash on my arms and legs. I was going to need some supplies to clean these up.

I grabbed my room key and walked out to the hall. Hopefully, Dino or Paul would be in their rooms. Across the hall was Dino’s room to which he didn’t answer. I sighed, already knowing if Dino didn’t answer, he probably already left, and chances are Paul was also gone. Still, I moved over a door and knocked on Paul’s door. Of course, he’s gone too.

They were the only people I talked to on the grid, and I was not about to swallow my pride and go to the lobby for a first aid kit. Just as I was about to head back into my room, I saw a light flash from under a door. Specifically, Sebastian’s door. How desperate was I going to get for this first aid kit? Enough to ask my sworn enemy for help? Yes.

I sighed, walking up to his door. I hesitated before knocking. What was he going to say? What if he laughed? What if he just slammed the door in my face? What if- I didn’t let my mind run anymore as I hurriedly knocked. It took a couple of seconds, but a confused Sebastian opened the door. As soon as he registered it was me, his gaze hardened until he took into account my appearance, his eyes softening almost immediately.

“I had nowhere else to go,” I whispered as I bit my lip, already expecting him to turn me away. “Do you have a first aid kit I can borrow?”

“Who the fuck mauled you?!” He all about shouted as his jaw dropped.

“Shut up,” I hissed, covering his mouth as I pushed him into his room. I closed the door quickly as I flipped us, so I was leaning into him against the door. “Do you have any idea what time it is? You’re gonna wake someone up.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied sarcastically as he pushed my hand away from his face in annoyance but quicking wincing as he heard my hiss of pain as he rubbed against one of the road rashes on my arm. He sighed as he dropped his voice to a softer tone, “Sorry, it’s not every day your teammate shows up at your door bloody. Forgive me for freaking out.”

“No, it’s a valid response,” I admitted, stepping back to give him space. That’s when I notice his eyes looking me up and down, taking in all of the injuries. “I just need alcohol and bandages if you have any.”

“Here, hop on the counter,” He offered, leading me into the bathroom. “I’ll help you.” He put his hands on my waist to help me jump up as the rashes on my legs had started scabbing and it was getting difficult to bend them. We fell into a comfortable silence, surprisingly, as he started addressing the wounds on my legs first. As he moved up my legs, he would glance up at me, making sure I was comfortable with what he was doing, causing me to nod almost every time. The one time I didn’t nod immediately was when he got back to my hips and grabbed the end of my shirt. “What if there’s a rash on your side? Or something with your ribs?”

“I don’t think I’m comfortable with taking my shirt off in front of you, Seb,” I said, honestly. “We’re constantly at each other’s throats. Who’s to say you won't make a comment about my body?”

“I would never,” He defended, “I just want to make sure you’re okay. How about I just lift it and do a quick check? If there’s nothing, we move to your arms.”

“Quick check,” I pressed, sending him a pointed look, “Nothing else.”

“Nothing else,” he smirked, pulling up my shirt a little and his eyes grew wide immediately. “So, good news and bad news. Good news, there’s no rash. Bad news, you are fifty shades of back and blue.”

“You’re kidding,” I gasped as I tried to turn around and look at my reflection, but quickly felt the pain from turning, causing me to hiss in pain again. “Okay, I believe you.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He stood directly in front of me but refused to meet my eye.

“Why would you be sorry? It’s not like you did this,” I asked. He had no reason to apologize for something he didn’t do. “If anything, you’re making it better.”

“I just- if I had been nicer, if we had been friends, if I had gone out with you tonight, none of this would have happened,” he admitted. “Instead, I was in here, watching a movie while you were out getting attacked. I just feel like I could have prevented this somehow.”

“That is out of your control,” I told him. Of course, it was! “You can’t control how people feel toward me. You can’t control the haters.”

“But if you had someone with you, the haters probably wouldn’t have approached you,” he explained, finally meeting my gaze. “I could have protected you.”

“That’s sweet of you, but you hated me when I left the track. There’s no way you would have risked yourself on my behalf.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s a fine line between hate and love,” Seb admitted. “Maybe I was jealous of your success. It’s hard being compared to my dad all the time, and I was finally doing good. No offense, but you came in out of nowhere and started dominating. I don’t know if I was just jealous or envious.”

“Really? I’m here because of you!”

“What?”

“You were my idol, Seb,” I chuckled. “I saw you at a karting competition a few years ago, and because of you, I started karting. I was so excited to race with you, and it was awesome getting to learn from you ahead of the season. Then, you just flipped, and I didn’t know what I did. All I knew was that suddenly you hated me, and I reacted back.”

“You’re here because of me? And because of me, we became enemies?”

“Yeah, but because of me, we could be in our lover's arch,” I slipped in, jokingly. At least, it was supposed to be jokingly. Sebastian didn’t take it as a joke as he immediately leaned in and connected our lips in the first of many kisses.

~~~~~

#sebastian montoya x reader #sebastian montoya #sebastian x reader #sebas x reader #formula 3 x reader #formula 2 x reader #formula 2 imagine #formula 3 imagine #formula 2 #formula 3 #f2 x reader #f2 #f3 x reader #f3 #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

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aplaceinthedark · 5 months

Text

chapter six: WEIGHT of a CONSCIOUS

Summary: Down in the Shenandoah Valley, there lay a court consisting of the Grim, the Drowned, the Witch and the Watcher.

CW: supernatural themes, ptsd, bodily injury, angst, blood, witchcraft

Every chapter will have a different cw section. This is Bad Omens rpf, so obviously I don't know all the little nuances of the members or their family members.

A/N: Some things are color-coded. If any of you are colorblind lemme know.

Nicholas paced back and forth in Taylor’s kitchen. It had been hours since Noah had sprinted back into the forest, and he still hadn’t brought Taylor back. He kept peering out of the window in the kitchen-dining room, since it was the only good place to see into the woods.

While he had been waiting, he had gone through the papers scattered across Taylor’s couch and spilled onto the floor. It wasn’t much, a lot more misses than hits, but every once in a while he’d see that they were going on the right track. Then there was the copy of the news article about when he, Noah, and some others had watched as Nick Folio was gutted. Despite it being almost fifteen years ago, anger curled in his gut.

They accused him and Noah of lying. They were the ones who lied, not him. They were the ones who covered up the disappearance and death of Nick Folio. They blamed the media for corrupting his and Noah’s minds. Nicholas and Noah both became victims to the town’s dark past.

But this stuff… This was what Taylor was at the library for. God, he had practically set them up to learn about Noah when he sent them to Granny. Granny wouldn’t have known any better! He has kept her in the dark about Noah all this time. Fuck, what if Taylor had told her about her that they saw Noah last weekend?

He shook himself out of that deep rabbit hole. That was the last thing he should be worried about. He should be worried about Taylor right now. Taylor, who was out in the woods. After dark. Without his protection.

Not to mention it was almost the New Moon…

GET READY. THERE’S BEEN AN ACCIDENT.

Nicholas jumped at Noah’s voice popping into his head, and it took a second for him to register the words. Accident? What do you mean—

He caught a glimpse out of the window of Noah running through the woods and bounding towards the house. In his arms—

Nicholas threw open the front door and stepped out onto the front porch. “What the hell happened?!” he asked.

“Fucking Folio happened, that’s what,” Noah snapped, handing Taylor over to Nicholas. “He was about to eat them.”

Nicholas took Taylor in and laid them on the couch. They were covered in dirt, leaves and pine needles stuck on their clothes and in their hair, but what stuck out to him was the large gash on their head.

“What happened?” he asked again, though he was referring to their head wound. He looked out through the front door to where Noah still stood.

Noah crossed his arms over his bare chest. “They fell.”

“What do you mean they fell?” Nicholas asked, rushing to the kitchen to wet a towel.

“Hey! It’s not my fault they took off the first chance they got! They tripped and fell!”

Nicholas was starting to get a headache. First Taylor met Nick in the absolute worst way, and then they most likely saw Noah in his true form. Explaining this was getting harder by the second.

“Can you let me in?” Noah asked. “I could help—“

“No!” Nicholas snapped. “Even if I wanted to, it’s their house now. They have to be the one to let you in. And I don’t blame them if they never want to now.”

Noah’s dark brown eyes darkened more. “Fine. I’m going back and having a talk with Folio.” He turned back towards the forest and started walking. “It could’ve been worse. They could’ve been found by Jolly.”

Nicholas suppressed that thought. “Be back when they wake up. I’m not explaining this mess by myself,” he said.

WHATEVER. GIVE A SHOUT WHENEVER YOU’RE READY…

He was gone.

Nicholas let out a heavy breath, and turned back to Taylor. He had work to do. He cleaned the blood off their head and out of their hair, and after that was done, he tapped into his power source.

Tapping into his powers used to be exhausting. He had needed the woods to recover, and Granny had always been on him about not going out there, even when it was light. So when he had found out he was a Green Practitioner, he couldn't help but feel a bit smug.

And when his powers brought him back to his closest friend? He had been thrilled. Except when he had to tattoo those binding symbols all over Noah's body. He had passed out several times before he had finished.

Healing was no exception. It was like taking someone's life force and transferring it to someone else. And if he wasn't careful, he could end up killing someone. Not that it had happened. Yet.

Nicholas dragged over a fern that Taylor must have gotten recently, and he set his right hand on the junction where all the leaves met. Then he set his left hand on Taylor's forehead; careful not to touch the wound so it wouldn't get dirty.

The rush that came over him was euphoric. Like sitting in a grassy field as the sun shined down and warmed every cell in his body. The effect was slow at first. The wound had to burn away impurities, and Nicholas could almost see the fever in Taylor's skin. The skin cells started to rapidly knit together, finally forming a rough pink patch before he had to stop.

It wasn't perfect. Not enough fern for that to happen. So Nicholas had to resort to good old-fashioned modern medicine for that: gauze and antiseptic.

"Sorry," he muttered to the newly golden- brown plant as he dragged it back to its original spot. Even though he already had a lot of explaining to do, he hoped Taylor wouldn't notice the near-dead plant.

He disposed of the excess medical supplies, pulling the small trash bin close to him and Taylor. He then lit a smoke as he began to mindlessly scroll through his phone to keep his mind off the roiling waves of anxiety in the pit of his stomach.

Hopefully, they would wake up soon.

The pounding in my head was the worst part. Like a hammer repeatedly being hit against my head multiple times.

But the pain melted away, save for a small bit and some dizziness. I felt a tug somewhere in my chest, causing me to turn around. Nick held my hand, pulling me towards the woods.

“Isn’t it dangerous?” I asked. I sounded like I was submerged under water.

Nick pulled me into a warm embrace, mouthing against my lips, “I would never let the darkness hurt you.”

My brain and my body wouldn’t cooperate with each other. I wanted to speak, to ask him questions. I wanted to pay him away and pull him in at the same time, but my body refused to cooperate.

He pulled away, moving behind me to wrap his arms around me. “N-Nick…”

"Taylor? You okay?"

I slowly opened my eyes, finding I wasn’t outside. My head was resting in something warm and soft, yet also firm. When I looked up, Nick’s concerned face came into focus, his green eyes— Wait, I thought he had grey eyes—

Everything that happened came crashing down on me. The room around me started spinning. I was attacked by some Not Wolf, and then something that looked like Noah— No, there was no way that could’ve been Noah.

“Are you still hurt? I can get you someth—“ Nick said, scooting closer to me on the couch, but I shrank away from him, holding my palm out to stop him.

"What - what did you do to me?" I asked, gripping my forehead. I felt a gritty texture, like gauze or band aids.

"You hit your head pretty badly. You might have a concussion," Nick said.

I hit my head. More flashes of last night came back in waves. The fear. The falling. Hitting the ground and skidding across the pavement and the sound of screeching metal and tires and the scent of blood and oh God oh God oh God–

"Taylor!"

Nick's voice snapped me back to the present, making me feel so lightheaded and dizzy and–

Nick was quick with the trashcan as he shifted it in front of me. As I emptied my stomach into the bag, he gently gathered my hair into his fist at the back of my head.

"I am concussed," was all I could manage to say after I was done.

"Yeah, I think you are," Nick chuckled.

"I just need to go, to the hospital–"

"Woah, hold on," Nick said, softly pushing me back down. "You're in no condition to drive–"

"I wonder why!" I shouted at him. "Your missing friend turned up on my lawn a week ago, and I was attacked by a wolf! I have no idea what's going on, Ruffilo, and I'm scared." My voice cracked on the last word.

"Hey," he said softly, but something in the way he said it got me to look up at him. "I will tell you everything. You just need to calm down, or you’ll make your head hurt worse."

Incredulous, I started to yell, "Calm–"

"Hey," His voice rose. I thought I saw something flash in his eyes, but it had to be a trick of the light. Otherwise that meant his eyes just turned a little more green, "Just trust me for a few minutes, okay? Just breathe."

I shut my eyes, trying to focus an my breathing, but they shot back open when I felt his warm hands engulf the sides of my head. My eyes immediately locked with his, which were absolutely green now, and I couldn’t look away even if I tried.

Warmth suddenly rushed through my body. I gasped at the pleasure and melted into his hands. The pain in my head slowly ebbed away, along with my anxiety and nausea, and was replaced with absolute bliss. But then I caught flashes of... stuff. I didn't know what I was seeing, until I watched a boy with dark hair get stabbed, and I realized these were Nick's memories.

Just after that epiphany, Nick let go of my head. I hadn't realized how close we had gotten; our foreheads were almost touching. He must’ve realized the same thing, because he quickly pulled away, his breath labored.

"What… did you just do?" I asked. My headache was only a slight pain, and my vision was clearer.

"My family calls it practitioning," Nick said. He sounded exhausted. "It's… to put it simply, it's magic that we take from plants."

"So… like witchcraft?"

He made a face. "Don't say that in front of Granny. She hates that word. Hates the title of Witch even more. But in other terms, it could be called green witchcraft, Yeah."

"So you just... healed my concussion? Just like that?" I asked incredulously.

"I took the worst of it away. I used a lot of it to heal your head wound," he said. "I had to use some of my own essence just now."

I could feel that, surprisingly. It was like a little bit of Nick settled in my chest, tucked away in my rib cage. And I didn't know how to feel about that. Especially because I could feel that he's been telling the truth this whole time. That was the worst part.

"You know I'd never harm you," Nick said. "None of us would."

I peeked up at him. "Who's us?" I asked.

"Well there's me. There’s Jolly, who you haven't met. There's Nick Folio, and then… there's Noah."

"Are they… Wait, Nick? As in that Nick Folio kid? He died," I said.

"Things don't tend to stay dead in this forest," Nick said. "They just… become different."

"N- No fuckin' way," I said. "And he was stabbed."

"There's a lot more to it. I guess..." he trailed off in thought, "Have you ever heard of a church dog?"

"The tale? Yeah, my parents used to tell me that story. Where churches would bury a dog first in a new cemetery so it would guide the dead to heaven."

"Well, that's what Folio is. We call him the Grim." Nick said.

"So that… creature that attacked me was actually Nick Folio?” I asked. Nick nodded. “Then why did he attack me?" I asked.

"Because he thought you were out there to attack me."

I jumped at the voice, despite how muffled it was. That's when I realized it was coming from outside, on the other side of my closed front door.

"Noah," Nick's voice sounded tense, "has been on the porch apparently this whole time."

"You seemed to have sit all under control honestly," Noah said.

"Why is he out there, then?" I asked quietly.

"Because of what he is. He can't cross thresholds unless specifically invited in," Nick said."Whether he's in human form or his true form."

"What's… What’s he then?" I asked.

"I think you already know," Noah said.

The Watcher.

I turned back to Nick, who was watching me very carefully. He then titled his head, and asked, "Would you like to meet everyone?"

Tysm for reading! Next chapter coming soon!

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens rpf #bad omens au #noah sebastian fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #jolly karlsson fanfiction #nick folio fanfiction #horror au #paranormal au #tag: non binary character #fic: lost in the labyrinth #series: lost in the labyrinth #cw: supernatural themes #cw: ptsd #cw: bodily injury #cw: angst #cw: blood #cw: witchcraft

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loversj0y · 11 months

Text

boundaries

i will never, under ANY circumstances write something that breaks someone’s boundaries. for me, RPF relies on using a persons face and basic traits and writing a version of them that exists in stories in my head. however that does NOT MEAN their boundaries are not important. regardless of the context, if the real person is in anyway the “face claim” of either the written version of themself, or a character of themselves i wrote, i will NEVER break their boundaries.

if i do so, it is not knowingly. do NOT vaguepost about me doing so either because i am autistic and will not understand. if i am breaking a person’s boundaries i WANT TO KNOW before you block me or just call me a shit person.

also, ive stated this before on my blog, but i will never write NSFW content. i may included suggestive jokes and things that are more on the PG-13 side (like making out) but i am asexual. i am not comfortable writing NSFW or even reading about it. making jokes about NSFW stuff is fine (again within that person’s boundaries, my OWN boundaries included) and i find NSFW humor pretty funny and often write it. but NSFW content will never be something that i outright produce in general. im not comfortable with it.

more of my boundaries

- i will never reveal my face on here. it is a safety thing and a privacy thing (irls that like wilbur for example) please do not ask me for any clues about what i look like. if i don’t reference it or supply it myself, i dont want to talk about it

- i have made vague mentions to where i live, specifically by saying the state and that i live in a big city. do not try to find anything else out

- i have been put in danger because of the internet before. both actual danger (stalking) and perceived danger (paranoia, mental instability) so do not even make JOKES about my privacy or knowing what i look like. it makes me so incredibly uncomfortable

- do not joke about SA on my page. i have written fics covering SA recovery because it is something that i have dealt with and i use it to cope. this does not mean you can just joke about it or traumadump with no warning

- dont call me pet names if we arent friends. point blank.

- i have been given death threats over discourse before to the point that seeing any mention of discourse makes me start to panic. do not involve me in discourse. however, if there is something going on that you think i should be aware of, or if i speak out of turn on something i dont know enough about, feel free to tell me in the DMs, just give a valid trigger warning.

- again, im not comfortable with NSFW works. i will not read them so do not ask me to. i will not write them so do not ask me to. it does not matter if the character is real or fictional. it makes me uncomfortable

- if you are below the age of 16, dont dm me or try to actively talk to me. even if my blog is not NSFW, im not comfortable talking to people below that age. the only exception is if you need a safe space to come to and tell someone about another adult online who is harassing you, i am always willing to help out in those situations.

- DO NOT BLAME ME FOR THE ACTIONS OF MY MUTUALS. I AM NOT THEM. i cannot control people, and i am not on here enough to be policing people that i interact with. i have a life outside of this site.

i may add more in the future. im not sure yet

#mar talks #boundaries #mar’s boundaries #this is for the blog intro

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theflyingfeeling · 9 months

Note

for the fic ask

7. How do you choose which POV to write from? 11. Link your three favorite fics right now 56. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

Ooooooh 🤔 I've never really thought of this that much, but usually it's just the general ~vibe~ I want to create and usually one character is more suitable for that purpose than some other character. I also have certain characters (comfort characters) that I prefer writing because it's easier for me to...relate to them, I guess. Or I feel like I can see a bit better inside their heads. Out of my current fandom (Blind Channel), I've always thought writing from Joel's, Joonas' and Olli's POVs is easier for me than the other three, although recently I've been more comfortable writing Aleksi's POV as well (blaming it on the Olli/Allu brainrot 🥰). Niko and Tommi are still mysteries to me in a way, so I haven't written their POV that often and don't really feel like I can do so convincingly 😭

11.

Ah. I hate to admit I've been terrible at reading fics lately 😭 I think the last one I read and really loved was till it's fatal by @ao3userxnowimnothing. Midsummer Magic by AO3 user full_moonless was a lovely read as well. And for some variety (because I really do have other things going on for me besides BC tyvm!! ...such as hockey 🥰), I want to give a shout-out to this hockey rpf that still lives rent-free in my head 💔

56.

Oh, you gonna have me compliment my own work? ME, who's constantly feeling she's not good enough for anything ever? 💀 Well alright, something that always warms my heart when my readers mention it is the way I "use words", because that really is something I put a LOT effort in when I write (possibly more than what is necessary), and I think I'm fairly good at it too; playing with words, taking fixed phrases and "blowing them up" to create new, innovative ways to say something instead of using clichés is something I enjoy. I've also been told I'm good at delivering the feelings of the characters (or at least the POV character) and that's also something I'm kinda sorta proud of a little bit 🥺

thanks for asking <3

get to know your fic writer

#the olli/allu fic i'm currently writing (still not sure whether or not i'm gonna publish it on ao3) is low-key inspired by that hockey rpf #it's a short one-shot and doesn't really require any knowledge about hockey or the characters so i can recommend it to anyone!

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errorcode582 · 2 years

Text

ff.net has been in complete shambles for the past several years and is a notorious hive for plagiarism. The mods also nuked thousands of fics from the platform for reasons ranging from justified to incredibly questionable, and the site has had two of these mass purges in its lifetime. It's also been on the decline for years with constant outages, unresponsive mods, and a piss-poor tagging and search function. The owners of the site do not seem keen on even really giving the base code a spit shine, and I'd really question the security of it overall. I would not be surprised if they have a major data breach in the years to come. Don't get me wrong, I love it to death in a nostalgic way, but I can see why it's not exactly a great place to post fic these days.

Wattpad, usually the second site mentioned in these discussions, hosts tagged erotica alongside the rest of its content with no filter by default. This means you can find erotica in any search query you use unless you specifically exclude the tag. It's also a notorious hive for rpf, and allows rpf erotica. It also allows sexual content of 16 year olds, as it states in its code of conduct that, quote, "the age of consent is 16+ on Wattpad".

And really, those are the only notable contenders against ao3. Any other website you could list would fall into "niche" territory, and most writers do want their work to be seen so they can gain traction and potentially a clientele later on if they want to enter writing professionally. Plus, blogging sites like Tumblr tend to not be very conducive to posting fic as they aren't designed with a book format in mind, so word limits are tighter, you have to manually stitch a sort of chapter browser together by yourself as you post the fic, readers will encounter your fic in reverse chronological order, and honestly I could go on. Plus, Tumblr's tagging system is also complete garb, and if people don't reblog your fic, you're SOL. So, while I've heard of Fanfiction Online and have seen some promise in Quotev (I've made an account there recently, so consider that a "to be continued"), sadly, in terms of usability and popularity, all alternatives are overshadowed to the point of complete obscurity by the behemoth that is ao3.

Trust me, I hate that website and the cesspool it plays host to. Ever since I learned just how bad it was over there, I haven't spent a single second of my time on it. However, I can't blame aspiring writers for using it in the same way I can't blame other content creators for using YouTube rather than Dailymotion or Vimeo, despite YouTube's openly predatory practices towards their artists and child audiences (the Elsagate stuff never stopped, they're just using Mickey and Sonic now). The site holds a soft monopoly over the realm of fanfiction publication, and it's going to take a website that directly outclasses it in terms of user-friendliness to even really start giving it trouble and to convince the majority of the audience to switch over.

I'm all for taking as much of an audience away from that hellhole as possible though, so I'll gladly vouch for any alternative website that directly outclasses ao3 purely by design. Hell, ao3's code is completely open-source. If anyone manages to literally make a better ao3 (maybe even implementing those lofty promises of multimedia support that they've been harping on for years, hm?), I'll make an account on there the moment I hear of it and spread the word of it as far as I can manage.

Honestly, I think it really speaks to the state of fan culture overall that the best place to view and post fanfiction online is a csem hive, and I really want to change that message if I can. Unfortunately though, as much as I want a viable alternative, we're stuck between YouTube and Dailymotion, and I cannot blame anyone for wanting to stay away from Dailymotion.

Also @proship-blocklist since it was your post that was involved in this, feel free to add your input as an author/reader if you feel so inclined.

#error code: asks #error code: anon #error code: discourse #?#i guess it's discourse I'm too tired to think of another tag #cw csa mention #for those in the audience wondering where the hell this came from I poke my head into replies a lot #anyways complex topics requiring complex explanations y'know #I can feel a cluster headache coming on so I'll just leave this open to discussion

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ana-swritings · 1 year

Text

Merry December 2022 - Day 8

Day 8 of Merry December

Prompt: Memories

Fandom: Supernatural RPF

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x OFC (Aubree)

Words: 630

T.W.: N/A

Summary: Making it up to you.

Jensen wasn’t one to talk about his feelings or memories at the drop of a hat, especially not with a complete stranger, so he would later blame it on the morphine drip that the doctor had put him on after he had been hurt while doing a stunt.

His girlfriend, Aubree, had just left to get something to eat for herself, when his nurse asked him what he was going to give Aubree for Christmas. Jensen looked at her like a deer in headlights, making the nurse ask him if he even knew what to give Aubree.

He tried to play it off, but the uncertainty was clear in his voice and the nurse quickly caught on to it. That was when she asked the question that would make Jensen blame the morphine later on. “What did you give her last year?”, she asked, a question so simple, but yet so personal, memories of Christmas past flashing before his eyes. Before he knew it, he was telling the nurse all about it.

This was only their second Christmas together and Jensen hadn’t really decided what to get her. The year before had been a nightmare and at the time he had promised to do better this year, but he was already failing.

Last year he had barely any time to get Aubree a present. His work hours had been insane, and he was almost sure they weren’t going to be able to spend Christmas together, but at the last minute they managed to switch a couple of his shots and public appearances and Christmas was on again. That left him with finding a gift in time for Christmas.

Only having a couple of hours free before having to meet Aubree, he had gone to the mall, hoping he could find something she would like, but not really finding anything. With time running out, he made a last-minute decision that he would regret. He decided to go with an empty recipe book.

Any other time, the idea would be a sweet one, considering that Aubree was an amazing cook and had a box filled with loose recipes. But not for Christmas, especially their first one. He regretted it the moment he had it wrapped but was now committed to going all the way with it.

The disguised look of disappointment in Aubree’s eyes when she opened her present didn’t go unnoticed and was enough to make him regret every decision he had ever made. She tried to play it off, thanking him and saying that it was just what she needed. But when he opened his and saw a brand-new guitar sling with his name stitched across it, something he had mentioned he had to buy to replace the worn out one he had, he made a silent promise that the next year he would make it up to her and give her something she would really love.

The nurse didn’t say a word the entire time. Once he was done, she smiled and told him that first, he was right, the present had been awful. Useful, but awful. And second, that he needed someone who would help him find something that Aubree would love.

Just as he is about to tell her that he could do it on his own, Aubree walked in, ending their conversation. Jensen smiled, as he watched his girlfriend talking about their Christmas plans with this kind nurse and if they had put up their trees or not, as she unpacked her lunch.

Maybe getting someone’s help wouldn’t be that bad. Afterall, he messed up the first time. All he knew was that this year he had to get it right and who knows if with someone’s help, he just might be able to do it.

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

Hope you enjoyed it. :)

If you'd like to give me a tip, you can buy me a coffee here. :)

For all my works, please check out my vault here. :)

#merry december #merry december 2022 #memories #supernatural rpf #spn rpf #jensen ackles #ofc #jensen ackles x ofc #fluff #day 8 #day eight #ana's writings

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Casual

Ranboo x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None, unless talking about the future counts

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Following the arrival of the dreadful invitation to his cousin’s wedding Ranboo turns to the only cover-up he can think of to keep his still-single status hidden from his family.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your wonderful request! I’m so glad you sent your idea to me and I’m so glad you were my first official Ranboo request. I’m really sorry it’s taken me so long to write it but I still hope you’ll come across it and read it! Love, Vy ❤

“Heyyy, so Y/N, I have a favor to ask you...um yeah, call me back, it’s awkward sending it via voicemail. Bye“

Huh - that’s the first thought that goes through my head when I listen to the voicemail left after a missed call from my best friend Ranboo. The favors he usually asks for consist of requesting assistance for his videos in which I also appear with a mask and sunglasses to keep the brand running. I genuinely have nothing against my face being shown but when I think about it, I’m honestly a bit glad people can’t identify me.

Anyways, back to the favors, Ranboo is no stranger to asking me for them but they’ve never been considered too awkward for a voicemail which is why I’m no slightly concerned. I’ve been swamped with work for school and studies for the graduation finals for the past two weeks and it seems like I’ll never get on top of it and I know Ranboo’s been in a similar situation too, so maybe he needs help with that? He’s not used to asking help for school stuff, he sometimes even has a hard time accepting it when I openly offer it to him.

I eventually sigh, decide that playing this guessing game will not get me anywhere and settle on giving him a call as I make my way home from the gym with my legs barely putting up with the task of carrying me around.

He picks up on the second ring.

“Hey! Wh-...“

“Would you pretend to be my girlfriend for my cousin’s wedding next weekend?!“

My legs take that opportunity to stop moving in the middle of the sidewalk which is luckily void of any people at the moment. It’s not my fault my body’s first reaction was to freeze up at the question that came flying at me like an out-of-control jet, almost as though he’s been dying to say it and get it over with.

“Um...run that by me again please, I think I misunderstood.“ I say, blinking blankly as though awoken from a fever dream. No, actually as though I’m IN a fever dream right now.

“Ok, now that the cat’s out of the bag, wanna grab some coffee and talk about it face-to-face. I need to see your facial expressions to gauge what response to expect.“ He says, the previous nervousness gone and his voice calm as regularly once again.

I’m this close to face-palming but I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and bring myself to utter a reply, “Our usual spot. Be there in ten minutes.”

* * *

“No freaking way.“ I shake my head, folding my arms over my chest as I lean back in my seat in the booth we picked when we arrived. Good thing I got an iced coffee cause even a hot one would’ve gone cold by now considering I haven’t yet taken the time to have even a sip of it. I’ve been too busy listening to the long and short of the explanation and begging speech Ranboo probably made last night to try and convince me to agree to this nonsense. “Dude, we’ve been friends since middle school-...“

“Exactly! Who else was I gonna ask?“ He cuts me off, pleading gaze meeting my unimpressed one.

I huff before continuing my previous statement, “We’ve been friends since middle school so you know my opinion on weddings.” I put extra emphasis on the word ‘opinion’, giving him the clear hint at the distaste I’ve expressed on the topic multiple times before.

“And you know we’re on the same page there but there’s no way I can avoid going unless someone kidnaps me.“ He too now gets in the same stance as me, his coffee forgotten too.

I can’t help but snort out a little laugh, “I’d be more than happy to kidnap you considering the other option is far less appealing to me.“

He, of course, rolls his eyes at me as though he didn’t offer to do the same thing so I could avoid an exam but anyways. “So you’re gonna choose to fake a kidnapping that has the potential of landing you in jail over coming to eat some great food and maybe even have some fun at a wedding with your best friend? I’m hurt.“ He says, frowning to cover up the smile that’s fighting its way onto his face.

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes, “I’d be kidnapping you, dummy...” I cut myself off to let out a long sigh and calm down before I go off at him. His smirk isn’t helping me much with the task either. I’ve known Ranboo long enough to know he’ll eventually convince me and he’s known me long enough to know how to do that exactly. With that in mind, there’s really no point in getting so worked up and wasting my energy. And so, despite my own rationality, I cave. “Fine, but I’m not staying the whole wedding.“

His eyes immediately light up and almost makes me feel the compromise was worth it. Almost. I mean, when you’ve been best friends with someone for so long, seeing them happy is worth more to you than your own comfort sometimes.

And he knows it too. Which is exactly why he outstretches his hand for me to shake and says: “Just one dance and you’re free to go. Deal?”

I take his hand without hesitations. That’s a better offer than I could’ve ever imagined. “Damn straight it’s a deal.“

* * *

“How long until you kick the heels off?“ Ranboo asks, bringing me a non-alcoholic cocktail and sitting down next to me.

I take a sip and giggle, “You kidding? I already kicked them off and replaced them with flats. I need mobility if we dance. They also lower the risk of me severing off a toe of yours if I step on you on accident.”

He laughs, clinking his glass against mine before he gets a bit more serious, “By the way, thanks for handling my family’s attack so well. I know it might’ve been a bit much but you handled it like a pro. Still, I’m sorry on their behalf.”

I shake my head and wave my hand dismissively, “Don’t mention it. I’d probably react the same way if my brother or cousin brought a date to an important family event like this.” I instinctively turn to look in the direction of where the majority of his family has gathered around, chatting with guests, smiling brightly. It’s hard not to immediately take a liking towards these people. They’ve been a second family to me ever since Ranboo and I started hanging out so I completely understand why they were so shocked to see me in the role of his ‘girlfriend’.

“I’ll tell my parents the truth later, our extended family is the ones I wanted to fool to be perfectly honest.“ He looks around as do I and we catch more than a few pairs of eyes fixated on us that turn away when they realize they’ve been spotted, “Mission accomplished by the looks of it.“

I chuckle. I’ve never felt so comfortable at a wedding before. I don’t feel stressed nor anxious despite knowing that there’s quite the number of eyes on me and there are whispers going around about my ‘relationship’ with Ranboo. It’s oddly calming and relaxing to be surrounded by some familiar and some unfamiliar faces. This cocktail is pretty great too.

Speaking of which, if it had any alcohol in it I’d blame it for the decision I’m about to make but this one’s entirely on me: I tap Ranboo with one hand while taking out my phone with the other. “If we’re already the talk of the wedding, let’s give them something to talk about.“ I say as I put up my phone, pretending to be taking a selfie leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

When I pull away I can clearly see that he’s still processing what just happened. I can’t help but burst out in a fit of laughter as I reach out to wipe the lipstick stain I left on his cheek. He looks like a lost, clueless puppy with the question: ‘what on Earth just happened???’ replaying in his head and it’s so freaking cute!

Wait....what was that? Since when do I use the adjective cute to describe Ranboo? Didn’t I think he looks handsome in a suit earlier too? The hell is with me today?

Then it hits me - the feeling isn’t foreign. Like, I know I’ve felt it before but I never analyzed it or even bothered to acknowledge it. But now that I do, I’m afraid of what it might be.

“There!“ I say, desperately trying to push the thoughts away along with this little firework show in my stomach, “Now you have pinker cheeks. Well, cheek, singular.“

As if snapping out of his state of confusion, he returns to Earth with a smirk, “Kiss the other to even it?”

Alright, his blush might not be even but mine now is and it’s ten times as intense and very much apparent but I don’t let the feeling shine through anything else as I proceed to actually kiss his other cheek too, wiping the lipstick stain.

“Thanks. You’re the best.” And just like that, as though it’s no big deal, he kisses my forehead.

See, that’s the thing, it shouldn’t be a big deal! It’s never been! This is far from the first time I’ve kissed him on the cheek or the first time he’s given me a forehead kiss. These are regular occurrences after years of this lovely friendship we have. Why do they feel so different now?

Then, much to my relief, the music starts and the lights turn off leaving only one spotlight for the groom and bride to have their first dance. They look absolutely astonishing and I can certainly say I’ve never before stopped to think that about any newly weds of the weddings I’ve preciously been to. I don’t know if it has something to do with the company I have for this particular wedding or it’s maybe the fact that my mindset’s changed over the years without me realizing.

Then I automatically look at Ranboo who just so happens to be looking at me too and all I can say is: my mindset hasn’t changed.

A loud applause takes over when the couple finish their dance, officially opening the dancefloor for any other pairs who’d like to occupy it and I’m happy to see how many people are eager to rush up with their partner.

Ranboo gets up, putting the glass down and offers me his hand, “So, wanna dance? Don’t take this as a sign to leave though, we said one dance and you CAN leave, not SHOULD.” He says, giving me a warning look.

I roll my eyes and am about to give him some sass right back but he takes my hand and picks me up from my seat, leading me to the dancefloor. And I gotta admit maybe it’s a good thing he did. If he left it to me I would’ve probably said no to the dance and ran the hell away. Why? - Cause I’m freaking terrified of this new mindset and point of view and these intense emotions I never used to pay any mind to before in regards to my best friend.

Friends don’t feel that way about friends. Friends don’t look at friends that way. What’s happening to me?

When I gotta look him in the eyes like this, not for the first time might I add, I can finally understand how the friends-to-lovers trope works: it’s all meaningless until it starts to mean so much to you. It’s all platonic until it reminds you of a romantic movie moment. It ‘best friends’ until it’s ‘I wish we were more than that’. It’s all casual, until it’s not.

And, unfortunately, it’s irreversible.

Damn do I wish I ran away now...

#ranboo #ranboo fanfiction #ranboo x you #ranboo fanfic #ranboo fluff #dream smp #ranboo imagine #ranboo x y/n #ranboo x reader #fic #fanfic #fanficiton #fandom #fluff #friends to lovers #x reader #request #requests open #reader

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sweetdreamsofgelato · 3 years

Text

Midsummer Misadventures: Chapter 5

(Henry pic credit. The rest are Google.)

[CH 1] [CH 2] [CH 3] [CH 4] [CH 5] [CH 6] [CH 7]

Pairing: Henry x Female!Reader (you)

Word count: 5740

Warnings: RPF; Abduction (sort of? not really but tagging to be safe); Enemies to Lovers. Slow Burn Smut (not yet). Snark. So much snark. Adult language and themes, etc. Somewhat arrogant Alpha-male Henry because I have questionable taste in men. Plot holes and predictability abound

Disclaimer: Henry is probably nothing like this IRL. Don’t take it seriously and don’t come at me with hate.

Summary: Henry hires you as his property solicitor and you go on a misadventure in Scotland.

A/N:

*yeets chapter into the hellscape and runs*

Unbeta-ed. All mistakes are my own.

Reposting my works on other sites or platforms is prohibited. Reblogs, likes, and comments are, as always, greatly appreciated.

“Looks like the dinner rush is in full swing.”

Henry stopped short and stared grimly toward the terrace, focused on the crowd spilling from the lounge doors. Coming to a stop at his side, you both let out twin sighs and exchanged glances that plainly said: well, fuck.

There was no way of knowing if the crush of people—and now you definitely considered it a crush—was normal Friday evening business for the pub, or if the word had gotten out about The Sheep’s Tail’s special guest.

Your guess was the latter, and sadly, there was only one way to find out.

“You just had to let it out that I was an actor,” muttered Henry, sounding more exhausted than upset.

“Don’t you dare try to pin this on me.” Sure, you’d mentioned it to Caroline when exacting revenge for Henry’s constant provocations, but there was no way that he was blaming this entire mess on you. “Didn’t you say that you were recognised this morning?”

Henry merely grunted in response. Your gaze shifted between him and the inn, and you quickly hooked your arm around his elbow and pulled him behind a sprawling oak on the edge of the path. Refuge from prying eyes—human eyes, at least. The sheep meandering on the other side of the fence stopped to watch with interest.

“Should we sneak around front?” you asked.

Henry rested his back against the trunk, humming uncertainly as he chanced another glance at the crowd. “You go around front and I will fight my way through the back. If anyone is lingering elsewhere, the commotion will likely draw them away and you can sneak upstairs.”

There was a natural inclination to take him down a peg for assuming his mere presence would cause a commotion, but you’d experienced firsthand the sort of chaos he could attract. Just the thought had your nerves on edge.

You leaned to the side and followed his line of sight, frowning and squinting toward the indistinct figures milling about the terrace. It was hard to tell from this distance, but you didn’t see anyone who stood out as paparazzi, though just because you didn’t see them didn’t mean that they weren’t there. The best ones were quite adept at remaining well-hidden, skulking in shadows until the prime opportunity arose to strike.

Given his behaviour, you were well within your rights to leave him to the wolves, but you still felt you didn’t have the karmic allowance to gamble on it.

You sighed. Damn it all.

“No,” you shook your head after a moment of contemplation, “it’s better if you go around front.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the line of Henry’s body go rigid, a sign of impending protest, but you insisted, “It’s our best option to avoid us both getting caught up.”

He tugged you back behind the protective shield of the tree. “If this is a result of a well-oiled rumour mill, we ought to assume they think you’re my wife.” With a particular air of hesitancy, he added, “A wife I’m not supposed to have.”

Henry had the grace to look apologetic about it now, but certainly, it was more for having to deal with the fallout than for having done it in the first place. You didn’t hesitate to cut him a look that read I told you so.

He promptly rolled his eyes. “If that’s the case, you won’t slip through unnoticed or unhindered.”

“I’m aware,” you said irritably. It was true, and despite your nerves, you were going to use it to your advantage. Besides, there wasn’t much in the way of alternatives unless you both felt like camping in the fields. “I’m betting on Mrs Cavill being enough to draw their attention but not interesting enough to keep it, which will hopefully mean a quicker escape for me and a clear path for you.”

With any luck, they won’t care about you at all.

He straightened and crossed his arms over his chest, likely in an attempt to look domineering. “I don’t like it.”

“You’ve never liked when you don’t get your way, but now’s not the time to be a child about it.”

He gave you a flinty look. “You’re not used to dealing with this like I am.”

“And who’s the one who dragged me into it?” The arch in your brow mirrored Henry’s, and you weren’t disappointed when, in his silence, his jaw twitched with annoyance. “I’m perfectly capable, thank you very much.”

Henry’s mouth pressed into a thin line and he scratched at the fresh stubble darkening his jaw; he looked thoroughly unconvinced and more than ready to continue arguing, but as if on cue, his stomach rumbled loudly.

“The sooner we get through, the sooner we can eat,” you added coaxingly. There were few things more motivating to Henry than the promise of a good meal; this much you knew of him. “I’ll stop by the bar on the way and see if I can have dinner sent to our room.”

Henry dropped his head back against the tree and angled you a look that you couldn’t quite decipher, but that made the skin on the back of your neck tingle. “Sacrificing yourself for me?” he chuckled, and a small, amused smile twitched at his lips. “Noble.”

“Don’t read into it. I just prefer to avoid a scene.”

“I fear we may be trying to avoid the inevitable,” he murmured bitterly.

It physically pained you to agree. “I’d like at least a bath and a bite to eat before I truly run the gauntlet.”

If this was what you were facing after only a day, then it was just the tip of the iceberg and that blasted play was only going to make it worse. How much worse was anyone’s guess.

Henry was nothing if not persistent in his attempt to dissuade you. “There might just as much a crowd at the front.”

Your patience was visibly wearing thin. “True, but based on the information we have, it seems the best plan to avoid the worst of it.”

“Just come around front with me and hope for the best.”

“I’m the diversion, remember? If I go with you, then we have no recourse.”

“I’m not going to talk you out of this, am I?”

Henry held your gaze and your shoulders squared reflexively. “There’s a reason I’m the lawyer and you’re the actor.”

After a moment of thought, his expression turned with displeasure and he grumbled, “Fine, we’ll do it your way.”

Your face lit with satisfaction. Not wanting to give Henry time to change his mind, you gestured for him to get moving. He hitched his bag on his shoulder, gave a mocking salute, and quietly ducked around the other side of the tree. Crouching low on the gently inclining lawn running up against the border wall, he hastily followed it around the far side of the inn.

Once he was out of sight, you sighed bracingly and glanced back at the sheep who stopped grazing just long enough to bleat gently in your direction.

You accepted its commiserating look because you needed all the support you could get, even from the livestock.

“Onward to glory.”

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

You made your way across the terrace as quietly and unassumingly as the crunching gravel allowed, but you already felt them.

Eyes. On you.

You hadn’t outright lied when you said you were capable of handling this, but your severe dislike of being anyone’s focal point meant that it was going to be neither easy nor enjoyable. Your throat constricted and flop-sweat dampened your skin as anxiety steadily tick upward.

Regardless, it was your idea and you were committed, like it or not.

Weaving through the tables, you forced your attention away from increasing noise levels and the curious stares and whispers of the dining patrons and instead focused on the delicious aromas wafting from their plates. Perhaps, if the food tasted as good as it smelled, then maybe the majority of the crowd was here for food instead of gossip. You rode that wave of unexpected positivity right into a small break in the crowd around the doors into the lounge.

A voice rose over the barely-contained revelry beyond the threshold. “Guid evenin’, Mrs Cavill.”

Damn.

You stopped and turned with a wince—despite having expected it, you still hate that you involuntarily answered to the title now.

A middle-aged man with shaggy salt and pepper hair, friendly eyes, and an expectant smile raised his pint in greeting. He turned to his ruddy-faced companion, who after a murmur in his ear from the man who’d caught your attention also spared a moment to give you an enthusiastic hello.

You glanced around warily to find complete strangers, who must have overheard, watching you with uncomfortable familiarity.

Unless...had someone managed to get a picture of you and Henry together? There had been opportunities, now that you thought about it. If photos and the inevitable speculation that goes along with them were already circulating the internet…with the added “Mrs Cavill” fiasco…

This was a disaster.

Trying to avoid the inevitable indeed. Failing magnificently more like.

You willed your mind not to spiral as you frantically rolled over how best to proceed. Logic seemed the best course: you didn’t want to make a bad situation worse by inadvertently slighting anyone, but you also didn’t want to stick around and invite conversation from anyone who might be watching and using the interaction to measure their chances.

You acknowledged the pair with a weak wave and awkward smile because you honestly couldn’t think of any better way to handle it.

With a deep, steadying breath, you shoved into the lounge.

Enthusiastic greetings cut through the steady pump of music and chatter. Greetings that were not unkind but held some air of expectation. Unsurprisingly, they were just as suffocating as the crush of bodies and the ambient cacophony beating against your ears.

You hastily jostled your way toward the entrance to the main pub on the other side, implications of your circumstances crashing around you all the while. The voices calling out remained faceless blurs; the further the tide pulled you in, the more panic divested you of polite pretence. You struggled to ignore the mobile phones following your movement and the invitations to drink and chat. With clipped apologies, you shoved past. All you could think through the haze of sensory overload was: nod and smile.

Nod, smile, and fucking move.

There was no correcting anyone about who you were or weren’t; any notion to do so was swallowed by the stifling heat and endless noise. Drowned by the alarming need to get out right now.

Henry might’ve been right.

He can never know about it.

You gracelessly elbowed through another group blocking the doors and stumbled into the main bar, releasing an audible gasp when cool fresh air slapped you in the face.

You didn’t stop to enjoy it.

Urgency hastened you through the main pub. This room was only slightly less crowded than the lounge; more curious glances followed as you bolted around the reception counter toward the stairs. Through the corner of your eye, you spotted Gavin trying to flag you down, but you didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. You gave him a vague wave as you blurred past; whatever it was could be dealt with later.

When you could breathe.

You took the stairs two then three at a time, legs and lungs burning up to the second-floor landing, your heart pumping fast from the exertion and overwhelm. You moved to turn the corner to the corridor that led to your room when you suddenly felt hands on you. Around you. Covering your mouth as you spun into darkness.

Instinct reared; you twisted and flailed, but a vice-like grip pinned your arms to your chest. The large hand clamped over your mouth muffled your screams as you were shoved farther into the dark, cramped space.

A grunt of shock caught in your throat when you were hoisted up and dropped clumsily atop something hard and cold. Your eyes pinched shut as something bit sharply into your spine. You leveraged your body, trying to kick away your attacker, but they pressed so close into you that your legs were folded and jammed up, and you couldn’t do more than feebly knock your knees against their sides.

Too big, too closely wrapped up in you that struggling only made it worse, but you refused to give them even a second of reprieve. You thrashed when they drew closer.

God, your lungs ached.

“Stop,” a deep, familiar voice breathed low in your ear. A hand splayed over your knee to still your movement. “Breathe.”

Your eyes flew open, not that you could see anything, and your heart hammered so hard you worried it might break a rib.

The grip loosened slightly but didn’t move away. “It’s only me,” the voice said again. “Breathe.”

A tall order when there was a hand over your mouth, you thought bitterly. Nevertheless, your pulse ticked down a few notches and the ache in your chest eased slightly as you drew shallow breaths through your nose.

“Hrrmmy?”

“Do not bite me,” Henry said.

You fixed him with a glare—for completely terrorising you, of course, but also for somehow managing to read your mind—but the effect was lost in the pitch blackness of...wherever you were.

“Calm?”

Absolutely not, but you nodded anyway.

“And don’t give me that look.” He slowly removed his hand from your mouth, and air poured into your starved lungs.

You gasped, “How did you know—” Naturally, the first question you would have after being forcibly abducted was how did you know I was glaring at you? It must be the effect of oxygen deprivation.

“I can feel it.”

As terror subsided, your senses sharpened. The hand on your knee slowly slid away, inexplicable tingling left in its wake. Henry’s hands may have moved, but the rest of him remained firmly wedged in your personal space.

Your eyes began to adjust to the darkness, and though you couldn’t make out many details, Henry’s unmistakable silhouette towered over you. Your body piqued to awareness; inhaling sharply at the shock of it, you felt so flustered that you barely made out the lingering, delicate fragrance of fresh linen.

Your mind immediately snapped back. “Where are we?”

“Some sort of storage cupboard,” whispered Henry.

You let out a colourful curse. This was like a bad novel. “Explain yourself.”

“I told Gavin to stop you at reception if he spotted you,” Henry said defensively.

Double damn.

“I was in the office when he told me you bolted upstairs,” he added. Even in the darkness, you felt the weight of his gaze. “Looking spooked.”

Indignation fought through the ebbing panic lumped in your throat. “I meant,” your voice rising, “why did you abduct me into a cupboard!”

“Keep your voice down,” and he dropped to barely a whisper. “People are lurking on all the floors.”

“You’d think they’d have better things to do with their time than chase after the likes of you.”

“Yes, yes, absolutely zero points for stealth, subtlety, or taste,” Henry said sarcastically.

He paused, grunting as he attempted to shift his weight back and to the side. Something clattered noisily to your left and he swore under his breath as he settled back into the awkward cradle of your body.

Henry reached up and rested his forearms somewhere above you. The solid weight of him pressed in and you struggled to breathe for an entirely different reason. The air hung heavy and humid and his scent permeated everything. Warm, smokey, and undeniably masculine.

“It’s a miracle that I was able to grab you unseen. There’s no way to get to our room without giving away which is ours,” Another low grunt and defeated sigh, “which is something I’d like to avoid that at all costs.”

Brain fog rolled in, and it was all you could do to keep your head as awareness flickered to life. “R-right, but a cupboard?”

“Options were limited,” Henry replied dryly.

You sighed heavily and felt your chest brush against his. Electric sparks jolted straight to your toes, making you desperate for a distraction.

“How bad is it?”

His hesitation was physical. “I’ve already got my team running damage control, but I recommend staying off the internet until it all blows over.”

You half-groaned but Henry’s side muscles suddenly tensed against the inside of your thighs, and you hastily gulped it back.

“When did you manage to call your team?” you asked shakily, trying your best to sound testy rather than completely unnerved. If there was any justice in this world, they’d given him a good verbal thrashing.

“I took advantage of the few minutes I had when I was waiting in the reception office.”

“Hiding,” you chirped. Squeaked? Your voice had taken on a definite mousy quality.

“Excuse me?”

“You were hiding, not waiting.” You cleared your throat but your answer sounded too rushed even to your ears.

Silence stretched a moment, then Henry said, “It takes a staggering amount of arrogance to insult the person who just saved your arse."

“By rugby-tackling me into the tiniest cupboard in Britain!” There, that was better. Rage was far preferable to everything else you were feeling at the moment.

“Quiet or you’ll give us away!” he hissed.

“Who cares if anyone sees? Especially if the damage is already done.”

You shifted ever so slightly side to side in search of any space to negotiate your way around this mess, but you were well and firmly locked in place. Perhaps it was cowardly, and you would agonise about it until the end of time, but you didn’t dare try to wiggle around him.

“If it gets out which room is ours, we’ll never get any peace, and—” He stopped abruptly.

“We’ll never get any peace anyway,” you cut in stubbornly.

“Shh.”

“But—”

“Shh.”

“Honestly, Henry, I don’t care—”

He leaned. No, he loomed. He may have even growled when he came nose to nose with you, but it was difficult to hear around the incessant buzzing in your ears.

Henry’s voice dropped an unnatural number of octaves. “Do you want me to put my hand back over your mouth? Because I will if you won’t be quiet.”

You gasped, not only from his words but what they did to you; awareness did a speedrun into desire. Hurtled straight to your core with a vicious ache. Henry’s breath skated across your lips, and the image of him capturing you in a rough kiss flooded your mind. You narrowly suppressed a shudder.

Nope. Not good. Bad. Very, very bad.

This was Henry. Henry, who in youth made it his puerile mission to vex you into insanity, and when grown—to do the same, but mostly avoid you like the plague. Neither inspired anything other than animus and disinterest.

But now his presence overwhelmed everything. You felt every minuscule movement, every brush of his body against yours, and you were receptive in ways that were wholly inappropriate and completely confusing.

You were not and never had been attracted to Henry. Not even in the most superficial way. Absolutely not.

If your body could get on board with your brain, that would be fantastic.

Your mouth snapped shut. He tipped his ear toward the door; your breathing faltered, eyes squeezing shut as you swallowed back a whimper when his roughly stubbled cheek scraped against yours. You’d never been so thankful for the lack of light; one look at you would undoubtedly give you away.

One look at him and...you didn’t even want to entertain the thought.

Faint footsteps grew louder, pausing outside the door. More footsteps joined, louder and quicker this time. There was some animated chatter, though you couldn’t make out the actual conversation, and more footfall back and forth before it finally faded away.

“For once, can you just trust me?” he whispered once the coast was clear.

In a desperate bid to regain control of yourself, your mind lurched away from base sensations running rampant. You shoved everything you were feeling into a dark, forbidden corner of your mind, never to see the light of day, and willed your voice steady. “Someone from the staff or another guest is bound to let it slip anyway.”

“Even so,” it was obvious the words were forced through clenched teeth, “we can’t risk anyone getting photos of us emerging from a cupboard looking...” He trailed off. “It will be fuel to the fire, and we are under strict instructions not to make it worse.”

“Who’s fault is it we’re in a cupboard?” You felt a pang of sympathy for his management team; the man seemed incapable of anything other than bad decisions.

He didn’t answer, yet you sensed his heat levels rise and patience drop like a stone.

“What do you suggest, then, because we can’t stay in here all night. I’ve already lost feeling in my toes.” Your circulation was the real victim here.

“We wait for the signal.”

“Signal? What, like a Bat Signal?”

“Now you’re just being offensive.”

You smiled despite your inner turmoil.

“Jack,” Henry explained in hushed tones, “is securing the inn and pub and will message me with an update. Glad he showed up. Poor Gavin is scarred for life, I think.”

He’s not the only one.

A charged silence settled in the cupboard and without the distraction of conversation, you became fidgety. Your legs were cramped and twitchy, but no matter how much they ached, you didn’t dare to try to let them dangle.

Your balance was already precarious, held in place by Henry’s inability to move, and whatever you were perched on was too shallow. Moving your legs down would send you straight into Henry’s...lap?

Was it considered a lap if he’s standing?

Not the point.

Your legs weren’t long enough to reach the door or wall, not with—you swallowed—Henry wedged between them. The only alternative was to wrap them around his waist.

The lingering heat coiled in your belly unfurled at the thought and nearly sent you back into a wild panic after only just managing to exact some semblance of control.

No. Not going to dwell on Henry’s hips, lap, or nether regions in general.

Henry broke the silence. “I need to move my arms down.”

“Sorry?” you croaked, prying your thoughts away from dangerous territory.

“Pins and needles in my arms,” he said with a tone that suggested he was repeating himself. “I’m moving them down.”

“Down?”

“Down,” he echoed slowly, sounding distinctly unsure why this was hard to grasp.

“I can rest them on the shelf behind you,” his voice sounded strained, “or around you, but that means invading your personal space.”

“I’m fairly certain that ship has sailed,” you muttered.

“Just giving fair warning this time.”

“Fine, but I need to move my legs before they fall off from lack of blood flow.”

“Wrap them around me.”

He hadn’t even hesitated, but your brain stuttered like a faulty kick start. “P-Pardon?”

“We both know it’s the only option.

“You’ve thought this through?”

“Why is that so surprising?”

The last two days weren’t exactly a masterclass in overcoming impulsivity, but a detailed account of everything leading up to your current circumstances seemed a moot point.

Henry growled again and it helped absolutely nothing. “It is what it is. Just do it.”

“And here I thought things couldn’t get worse...” The attitude was a defensive manoeuvre. Your body and mind were warring again and it was a full-on melee, but you were determined to rein it in. Your emotions may have already frayed many times over today, but you were a mature, capable adult in complete control of at least her hormones.

This would not unravel you.

It all happened in fluid motion: you hooked your ankles around his waist; his arms stole around you, forcing your back to arch. It drew your body flush against his, and Henry’s head to drop into the curve of your neck. There was a collective groan.

Of circulatory relief, surely. Yes, absolutely no other reason anyone would be moaning.

“Steady?” he asked hoarsely.

Not in the fucking slightest.

Time slowed to a crawl; what had to be mere minutes felt like hours filled with nothing but his fingers digging into your sides every time he shifted. His breath hitching, and arms tensing and releasing around you when your legs moved against his sides.

“So...” your breath stuttered when his palm drifted to your lower back and anchored your weight against his thigh.

It was definitely his thigh.

Had to be.

“...how long for that signal?”

“Soon, hopefully. Depends on how long it takes to clear the place out.”

You nodded, trying to ignore Henry’s warm breath on your neck and how it quickened your pulse. Or was that his? You were melded so closely together you couldn’t tell.

You felt the buzzing before you heard it, firm against the back of your leg—dangerously close to the apex of your thighs, and you very nearly leapt from your skin.

“Fuckssake,” Henry cursed at the jarring movement. Your bodies tangled and he lurched back; there was a loud thud when his back hit the door. He clumsily juggled you in his arms, his grip tightening around your back when he pitched once again toward the shelves. Your collective weight shook the entire cupboard. Linens tumbled around your heads.

Your breath escaped with an audible rush. “Sorry!”

“It’s fine—” Henry sounded breathless as well. Clattering and banging, more items tumbled from the shelves as he fumbled to centred your weight again.

Right on top of his buzzing phone.

“Jesus, sorry!” Henry apologised when you jerked and squealed. Everything around you rattled again “I-just, for the love of God will you stop flailing!”

“Just get your bloody phone!” you shrieked.

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” barked Henry in return.

With your legs still locked around him, he leaned back against the door. He pressed your shoulders against the shelves and angled you as far as possible in opposite direction, which admittedly, was not far at all. There was a sliver of space between you now, barely enough to fit even a small hand; if he reached down, you were certain he wouldn’t get into his pocket without touching...

You yanked his hand up by the wrist and hissed, “Don’t you dare.”

His gaze flickered down from your face then back again, and you barely made out how his eyes widen. “I’m just getting the phone.”

“I know,” your voice was verging on frantic, “I know, but…”

“I promise I won’t.”

“You will.” Not intentionally, but his hands were too large to not feel everything on the way down. Worse, your joggers were thin and you would feel everything, and you were already strung taut enough to snap. “Can’t you just reach around another way?”

“Do you think I’ve not already tried that?” he bit back impatiently. He paused a beat, a short silence of nothing but rhythmic vibrating. “You do it.”

“What!”

“If I’m not allowed, then you do it.”

You were in disbelief for having to say this for the second time in as many days. “I am not reaching into your pocket!”

“I can’t believe we’re arguing about this!” Incredulity laced every word. “Someone’s got to, and there’s only the two of us!”

He hadn’t moved his hand but your grip on his wrist tightened anyway. “But…”

“Make up your mind!”

“Okay, fine! Fine, I’ll do it!”

With a deep breath and a prayer—and not daring to look, you released his wrist and thrust your hand down toward the relentless vibrating.

Just as your fingers brushed against his phone, the world suddenly tilted.

There was no time to react, but you felt Henry tighten his hold on you before landing hard and with an audible groan. The light in the corridor scorched your vision, and when you finally cracked an eyelid, you found Jack smiling down at you.

He wiggled his fingers in greeting. “Well, isna this cosy.”

Jack knelt and looked to Henry, who was heaving beneath you, to the cupboard and then back to you. He angled his head to the side and that knowing little smile, the same one that followed your breakfast comment that morning, twitched at his lips.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to; his amused expression said it all.

It was the worst sort of deja vu. “This is not what it looks like,” you muttered weakly.

“Is no?” Jack’s wondered teasingly.

His eyes trailed downwards, and your gaze dutifully followed.

Your hand was still in Henry’s pocket.

Now would be the perfect time for the earth to crack open and swallow you whole. Anything to escape the embarrassment.

You yanked your hand out and scrambled off Henry with no mind to where your knees and elbows landed.

“Glad you found us,” Henry wheezed to Jack. “Had a bit of trouble getting to my phone.”

Your foot may or may not have caught him in the ribs, and you didn’t feel sorry for it.

“Aye, wisna so difficult.” Jack gently caught your elbow to help you stand. “Juist followed the bickerin’.”

Your eyes cut to the side and exchanged a heated look with Henry, who was now upright and leaning heavily against the opposite wall. He looked wild: panting, hair mussed and damp with sweat, and his skin deeply flushed.

Thoroughly dishevelled, and the image of it struck a new, startlingly raw nerve. The existence of which you wished to ignore completely.

The weight of everything dragged you further into exhaustion. The wall was the only thing keeping you upright at this point. You must’ve appeared flustered as you felt because Jack cast you a reassuring smile.

“Dinna wirry. Clear’t the inn except for registered guests. Naebody’s lurkin’ aboot.”

“Thanks, mate,” Henry cut in, leaning forward and extending a hand to Jack. “How’d you manage it?”

“Told ‘em they drank the taps dry.” Jack turned and grasped Henry’s hand in one and clapped him on the shoulder with the other. “Isna far off the truth, and most locals left withoot complainin’. Chase’t off the rest of the stragglers myself.”

“Sorry for the trouble,” you added with a guilty glance at the debris spilling forth from the open cupboard. Towels and linens littered the floor, and a teetering broom finally gave up the fight. You winced when it clattered to the floor.

Jack shrugged easily. “It’s the least I coud’dae efter ye saved me from ma aunty.”

Had that happened today? Lord, you’d nearly forgotten. This was the longest day in the history of ever.

You acknowledged his gratitude with a gracious nod. “I hope no one was too put out.”

“Nae, they coudna be happier. Most excitement they've seen in ages.” Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He motioned to follow as he turned in the direction of your room. “Imagine ye need a bit of peace tho, so I’ll send dinner up.”

This man was a saint and no one would ever convince you otherwise.

Jack unlocked the door, and Henry hung back, giving you a wide berth to pass. You slipped into the room without a word to him; you just...couldn’t. Not with lingering thoughts that made you feel foreign in your own mind.

“I need to get our bags from downstairs and make a few phone calls,” Henry said and relief rolled over you like a wave.

You needed space to process everything that had happened, but it would be impossible with him in the room. His presence would only be a persistent physical reminder of everything you felt in that dark, cramped space.

“Feel free tae use the reception office.”

Henry thanked Jack again, and when you turned around, Henry was gone.

With a quick glance toward the stairs, Jack tucked a hand in his back pocket and leaned against the doorjamb with that easy, elegant grace you’d admired that morning. For all the excitement of the evening, he seemed generally unaffected. Relaxed, even. Perhaps slightly rumpled and weary around the eyes, but calm and collected. It was enviable.

Of course, if he’d been stuck in a cupboard with Henry and an overabundance of inappropriate thoughts, he might look a little worse for wear too.

“Quite a nicht.”

You sighed wearily, resting your head on the edge of the door. “One for the books.”

“So…” Jack tousled his hair as he cleared his throat; he watched you warmly, but with concern. “Yer situation isna ma business.”

“Situation?” He was going to have to clarify because you were juggling at least a dozen thanks to Henry.

“Wi’ yer husband.”

Your head snapped up and despite your exhaustion, it took all of your restraint to not grab him by the shirt and shake. “I swear, we are neither married nor in a relationship. He signed that blasted guestbook as a joke, with no regard to his celebrity.” You pressed at the ache forming behind your eyes. “Needless to say, it backfired enormously.”

Jack skimmed the side of his thumb over his lips, seemingly processing that bit of information, then smirked. “The murderous look ye haed this mornin’ is makin’ more sense.”

“Thank you,” you laughed. A tired but genuine laugh that you really needed. It was nice to feel understood.

“I ken I teased a bit, but are ye awright?”

You blinked owlishly and blew out a long breath. Maybe. Probably not, but you would be eventually.

“Nothing a long bath and an early night won’t fix.” That, and lots and lots of professional media spin. Maybe a healthy dose of booze too.

Even though he’d asked, it felt intrusive to burden him with your problems. Dealing with the drama of your presence seemed already too much to ask of him, so you dismissed his worry with a wave of your hand. “Just a long day. I’ll be fine, but thanks for asking.”

Jack accepted your answer with a nod. “I’ll bring dinner in a bit, but...” As he turned to leave, he held up his hand and between two fingers was a slip of paper.

“...if ye need a friend.”

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fan fic #rpf #henry cavill rpf #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #sweetdreamsofgelato writes #fic: midsummer misadventures

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nashibirne · 3 years

Text

Gimme Shelter - 5

Here comes chapter 5. Expect a little romance and fluff! Our protagonists even start to flirt 😏 I hope you enjoy the next part of their story! If so, please let me know and leave a comment, like or reblog. Thanks 💜

You can find parts 1 - 4 and my other fics on my masterlist

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC (Kat Spencer)

Words: ~3.3k

Summary: Henry has to deal with a personal crisis and he finds shelter with his old rugby mate Sam and his sister Kat. She used to be Henry’s best friend a very long time ago. Will they be able to become friends again or maybe even more?

Chapter 5: A walk on the coast path, a flirt and a sweet encounter

Warnings: RPF, mention of mental health issues

Unbeta'ed. English isn't my first language. Mistakes ahead and they're all mine.

Disclaimer: I don’t know the real Henry Cavill or anyone who's related to him in any way, this is pure fiction and nothing more

Credits: Pics for the moodboard from Pinterest. Face claims: Kat = Jennifer Connelly

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed):

@lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @hell1129-blog @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo @artandotherdelights @notabronte @littlefreya @luclittlepond @eldarwen333 @meowpurrbooks @marantha @fadingkittenfun @liliumdream @enchantedbytomandhenry @greensleeves888 @witcherfan @margauxmargaux07 @radaofrivia @m07belzen

Ready? Let's go.

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Over the next few days Kat and Henry got closer and closer. They had long conversations almost every day that were so very helpful for both of them and they felt that the bond between them, this strong connection they had all these years ago and that had been cut off so abruptly, was rebuilding slowly. It was almost like back in the days. Kat and Henry against the rest of the world.

Kat helped Henry to sort out his thoughts, to make decisions and plans without taking responsibility away from him. She didn't make it easy for him by taking over control or telling him what to do. All she did was listen, sharing her view on things and giving him advice and she did it in a way that made it easy for Henry to see where he wanted to go with his life in the future. She didn't judge, she didn't criticize, she just gave him her opinion and support and that was all he was asking for.

On day 8 after the treehouse talk Henry was brooding over a text he wanted to publish. A statement for his fans, the media, the public in general but it wasn't so easy to get the tone right and to explain enough to make his latest actions relatable without giving up too much of his privacy. He closed his laptop with a sigh and rubbed his tired eyes when it knocked on the door.

"Come in." he said, hoping it was Kat and his wish came true.

"Hey." Kat greeted him with a bright smile and joined him at the kitchen table. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing." He shook his head. "I'm not very productive today."

"So maybe you need a distraction? What about a walk on the coast path? The weather is lovely and I'm really in need of some fresh air. Wanna join me?"

Kat flinched when Mr. Darcy jumped onto her lap out of the blue. "Heavens, Darce...you're gonna give me a heart attack one day." The cat ignored her fond scolding and curled up into a ball on her thighs, clearly demanding a bit of tender loving care that she gave him with an amused smile. "I haven't seen him downstairs in days."

"Cat got your tongue?" Kat stood up with a smirk and Henry was sure she was swaying her hips more than usual when she went to the door. "Come on, Cavill. Let's go."

Henry chuckled. "Yeah, it seems he's moved in with us. He sleeps with Kal in my bed every night. I think he's in love." Kat grinned. "Well, I can't blame him. Who wouldn't fall in love with a smart, sexy hunk and his furry companion." She gave him a flirtatious wink and now Henry was the one feeling like having a heart attack.

This was new. She'd never flirted with him before. All their banter was of friendly nature, sarcastic and funny but not flirty. He wanted to give her a witty answer, make a sexy remark but his mind went blank. All he was able to think about was how badly he wanted to touch and kiss her and so he opened his mouth but not a single word came out.

Kat's heart was racing when they left the house and walked down the road that led to the coast path side by side. It was obvious that her cheeky remark had caught him off guard but she wasn't sure if he considered her move good or bad. It had taken all her courage to try and flirt with him and his reaction left her a little clueless. It was not like she didn't know how to flirt. She did and she loved a sexy flirtatious banter. She wasn't shy and she also was aware of the fact that she was attractive but when it came to Henry everything was different. She turned into an insecure teenager again, helplessly in love and completely confused.

Just don't make the same mistakes again. Her thoughts wandered back to the night she'd spend with Eli after the city festival. When she went home with him she wanted to have sex with him, she really did but it didn't work. Whenever she closed her eyes and kissed him she saw Henry and the way he had looked at her when they were dancing slowly. Elijah soon noticed that something was off and he connected the dots quickly. He was very sweet and instead of being pissed he made coffee and they sat down and talked. Kat told him about her and Henry, all about their past, about Poppy, the heartbreak, her feelings for him, just everything. When she was finished Eli gave her a grin. "Well, I've been dumped for worse guys than Henry Cavill. I mean, even I wouldn't say no to him and I'm straight as fuck."

Kat chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Thank you for your understanding. I just don't know how to deal with my feelings. I don't even understand the nature of these feelings."

"The nature? You're falling for him again. And judging by the way he looked at you and the death stares he was giving me all night, I'd say he feels the same way." Eli shrugged as if it was as clear as day. "And you should really grasp at that second chance."

Kat sighed. "I don't know. What if he hurts me again?"

"You're not sixteen anymore. I'm sure he's learned his lesson and so have you. Just don't fuck it up this time, Kat."

"Excuse me? I didn't fuck it up back then." She looked at him flabbergasted.

"Come on, you know what I mean. Just don't make the same mistakes again." Eli took her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Yeah, he was a total ass and treated you badly. He lied to you. I get that. But you never gave him a hint that you have feelings for him. You took him for granted, Kat. You thought he'd always be there for you exclusively, that you are the only girl in his life and that you could afford to keep him in the dark about your feelings. You had this romantic idea in your head. You and him, the ball, the romance, a dance, a kiss, a confession but you never even considered that he liked you too but moved on because you'd friendzoned him. Truth is you didn't dare to tell him that you're in love with him and it backfired and hit you hard."

Kat started to chew on her lip. "Yeah. Maybe you're right."

"And if I may add one thing. You're 38. You're beautiful and smart but you're still single. You said it yourself, none of the men you meet can live up to your expectations. You've never met 'the one'. What if Henry's been the one for you all along?"

And that was the question that was running around in her mind ever since Elijah had posed it. Was it possible? Was Henry the one for her?

"This way?" Henry's voice interrupted her thoughts. He pointed at a path that turned off to the left. "Yes." Kat smiled at him sheepishly and Henry gave her a funny look. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, sure. I was just lost in thought. Sorry."

"Thinking about hot hunks, huh?" He smirked and it was ridiculously sexy. Kat's heart jumped with joy when she realized that he was flirting back.

"More about their cute companions." Kat laughed out loud with relief and joy. "Come on, Kal." She clapped her hands and started to run down the path, the American Akita following close behind, wagging his tale with excitement. She looked back over her shoulder with a grin. "What are you waiting for, Hen. Are you afraid you can't keep up with me?"

"Don't try me." Henry laughed and ran after her, chasing her down the path, playfully imitating a roaring bear. Kat was surprisingly fast and he indeed had problems keeping up with her. He wasn't a sprinter, his body wasn't really made for running though he did it for cardio regularly. So he had stamina but he wasn't very fast. Kat on the other hand was agile and quick and she took the rocky path effortlessly, it was a treat for the eyes. He knew she liked trail running and her smooth motions showed him that she did this often. When he finally caught up with her she flashed him a smile and slowed down. They came to a halt, both panting and laughing at the same time. "We better walk now. I'm too old for running away from a man as fit as you." Kat bent her upper body down and supported herself with her hands on her knees. Henry grinned. "You're way too fast for me. You ran like a bat out of hell."

They both burst out laughing again for no real reason and it felt so good to be childish and just a little silly. Henry was so comfortable, so much like himself, when he was with her it made him feel whole again. She was the antidepressant he really needed.

"What about some climbing instead of running?"

"Climbing? Jesus, Kat, are you trying to wear me out?"

"Well, it's not really climbing. The trail is just a little rockier and steeper than the regular one." Kat pointed at a path that was overgrown and led upwards to what seemed to be a cliff.

"What's up there? A make-out spot?" He asked, grinning cheekily.

"Dream on." Kat raised an eyebrow and her smile was sexy and amused at the same time. "Just an amazing view on the bay from the top of the cliff."

"It's closed off." Henry looked at the chain that blocked the trail with a frown.

"Yes...but we can take it anyway. That's not a problem."

"The sign says 'no trespassing', Kat."

She sighed. "I know but this is more for the tourists. There have been some minor accidents. Someone broke his leg or something. So they closed it off...insurance stuff and such...you know how it is. It's nothing, I've been there many times."

Henry still wasn't convinced. "It can still be dangerous and what if we get caught?"

"Sorry." She mumbled avoiding his gaze.

Kat laughed. "No risk, no fun. Come on now, Pop." She froze before she blushed furiously.

"Pop, huh?" Henry's lips turned up into a mocking grin. Pop had been her nickname for him at school. Whenever he'd tried to tell her what to do or to keep her from doing things he considered too dangerous or simply inappropriate she had teased him with this name to make clear that he sounded like her father. And so he became Pop just like she became Kitty.

"No worries, Kat. I like the sound of it. Actually I get called daddy a lot these days." Her eyes met his and he wiggled his eyebrows with a teasing smirk. Kat's confidence was back and she gave him a lopsided grin and a wink before she climbed over the chain. "Well, I guess I better behave then...daddy."

20 minutes later they were sitting side by side on top of the cliff, Kal lying at Henry's feet and Kat hadn't promised too much. The view was spectacular. "That's fantastic, Kat."

"Yeah. It never ceases to amaze me, every time I come here, again and again."

They sat there in comfortable silence for a while, staring at the ocean. Kat's legs touched his and the physical closeness awoke the butterflies inside of him. He turned to her, admiring her pretty face. "Thanks for taking me here." She looked at him with a smile. "I knew you'd love it. I've been here many times thinking of you, wishing you were with me, like you're with me now." Her voice got weaker with every word and she bit her lip, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

Henry's heart started to race when he realized what her words meant. She had never stopped thinking about him just like he had never been able to forget her. He took her hand and pressed a soft kiss on her knuckles. She let it happen, she even closed her eyes. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else than by your side, Kitty." He knew it was a bold move to call her that after her reaction the other day but she didn't seem to mind. "That's good to know, Pop."

She opened her eyes again and they shared a shy smile. Henry didn't let go of her hand, he even started to stroke it with his thumb tenderly. Kat's gaze fell on his lips and they both leaned in slowly. Their lips were just about to meet in a tender kiss when they heard suppressed giggles from behind. They turned around and saw two girls who were standing behind a rock, watching them. They were nine maybe ten years old and really cute. "Hey, you nosy little rascals. Are you observing us?" Henry scolded them playfully, laughing out loud and Kat couldn't help but join in.

"What about your dog? Don't you go to work?" Nelly asked.

"We were observing your dog. It looks like a bear." The taller girl said with a confident smile. She had beautiful, thick, red hair and reminded Kat very much of Anne Shirley from 'Anne with an E'. "What's your name?" she asked. "I'm Nelly and this is my bestie Laura." The other girl giggled again and waved at them but she didn't say a word. "Would you want to pet my dog? His name is Kal." Henry gave them an encouraging smile and they nodded eagerly. "Come on, Kal. Meet Nelly and Laura." Kal got up and greeted the girls like the friendly dog he just was and they kneeled down to stroke his soft fur.

"I want a dog too, but my parents say no." Laura said and she pouted her lips. "I'm sure they have good reasons." Henry explained. "A dog requires a lot of time." "Yeah. That's what my parents say. They don't have time for a dog because they both have to work." She rolled her big brown eyes, never stopping to pet Kal who enjoyed the love he received.

"Your parents are very reasonable . You wouldn't want your dog to be sad, would you?" "No." She shook her head vehemently. "Of course not." "See, but dogs are sad when they have to be alone all day." She nodded and sighed. "Oh, okay."

"I'm lucky. I can take Kal with me when I work." Henry gave her a bright smile but she seemed sceptical. "Really? Must be a very strange job, when you can bring your dog."

"It is a strange job, you're right, Nelly, but I love it anyway." And for the first time in months, he felt it. He loved his job and he was a lucky man.

After the sweet encounter with Nelly and Laura the intimate moment was ruined and the sexual tension was gone but Kat and Henry were still in a good mood and they went back home chatting lightheartedly.

"You were great with the girls. Did you never think about having kids?"

Henry gave Kat a surprised look.

"Of course I did. I'd love to have a bunch of children but I guess I'd need a woman first."

"I don't think there's a lack of women in your life."

"No, of course not. There were many of them but never the one to start a family with."

Now it was Kat who was surprised. "You have never been in a serious relationship? Never made plans to settle down? I'm sorry if this a stupid question but I've always avoided reading about your private life in the media…"

"It's not stupid at all. What you can read about my private life is mostly bullshit anyway." Henry let out a snort. "But no, I've never been really serious with a woman. I was engaged once but that was a very stupid idea. I was young and foolish…"

"But why? I mean, you're perfect husband material."

"Yeah, for gold diggers and attention whores." He rolled his eyes. "I don't know, it's always the same. I meet a woman, I fall fast and hard and after a few weeks I wake up from this romantic vision I had of her and me and there's nothing left...I lose interest or she gets bored with me and that's it. It has always been like this. I'm just not able to find a woman that completes me." He shrugged. "What about you? Why are you still single?"

Kat took a deep breath. "Pretty much the same actually. There have been a few men, short relationships, but it never lasted. All of them tried to turn me into something I'm not. A trophy wife, a housewife, a mistress…but none of them could make me feel at home with them."

"They must have been idiots. Why would anybody try to change you. You're great the way you are." Henry said, shaking his head in disbelief. "What about Jim?"

Kat smiled. "Jim was indeed different. We had a great time but after four years we grew apart. I was so young, 23, I wanted to travel, to see the world, he was 30 and wanted to settle down and start a family. That's why we broke up and it was the right thing to do. We're still friends and he has a great family now."

"Seems we were right when we were moping teenagers and said we're never going to find true and everlasting love. Do you remember? Kitty and Pop..the lonely heart club?"

"Of course. All these sad poems we wrote and you were so great at reciting them." Kat laughed softly at the memory. "God, we were so pathetic with our self-pity."

"Yeah, we were. But eventually you fell for Aaron."

"Love is a big word for what Poppy and I had in those 6 months we were together." Henry looked at his hands, his fingers were fumbling with the ring on his pinky. Guilt washed over him whenever he talked about Poppy in Kat's presence. "I guess I didn't even know what love is when I was with her. Maybe I still don't."

Kat cocked her head looking at him. Yes, after you broke my heart, was what she was thinking. "I did. He was my byronic hero. He saved me..." was what she was saying. "And you loved Poppy."

"You must have loved your girlfriends."

Henry shrugged. "I have but...I don't know…"

"You loved them and at the same time you knew they weren't the one. Something was always missing…."

Kat spoke out what he was thinking but couldn't express.

He looked at her, nodding his head. "Exactly."

"Yeah. Same here. Aren't we the lucky ones?" Kat gave him a sarcastic grin. "We should resurrect the lonely hearts club."

The way she tried to shrug off the topic all of the sudden showed him that it had gotten under her skin. Deep. He smirked and gave her a wink. "Count me in."

Kat looked at him with a frown. "Really? I was actually joking."

"Why not. Could be fun to take a stroll down memory lane."

"You're right. Let's do it. First meeting on Saturday night? At the woodhouse?"

"Sounds like a plan. I better start searching the internet for some sad, dramatic poems."

"And I'm going to compile a playlist."

"Deal." Henry offered Kat his hand for a handshake and she took it grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Deal."

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tbc

#henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill #cavillry #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill rpf #rpf #henry cavill slow burn #slow burn fic

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luxshine · 2 years

Text

Moon Knight episode 4 ramblings

So.. I couldn't wait a week when I saw that screencap of Marc and Steven together so... I just HAD to watch episode 4.

I am SO going to end up doing a review like with Supernatural, ain't I? And DEAR LORD DON'T LET THAT PLOT BUNNY IN MY HEAD!

AHEM

So, obviously, Steven Grant is my woobie husbando, he will ALWAYS be my woobie husbando and I adore him. Thing is, yes, I used to love him from the comics, but in the comics? I am a bit more of a Marc girl. Here? Oh, god, Oscar Isaac gives Steven SO MUCH LOVE and so much personality that I just can't not love Steven as my #1.

If you don't read the comics, I have to explain. While TV Marc has pretty much 99% of Comic Marc's personality, mannerisms and backstory (Seriously, as of episode 4 the only difference is the fact that he MARRIED Layla whereas Comic Marc never married Marlene, and Marlene was present when her father died so there was no way to blame Marc for it. And now, I wonder where TV Frenchie is), TV Steven is NOTHING like Comic Steven. Comic Steven (Who is currently, ahem, literally in a sarcophagus in Marc's mind so, lol) started as... well, to be as nice as I can? A Bad Bruce Wayne copy. He had to be rich, to get Marc and Jake money for Moon Knight stuff, but he was... very vapid. And while Lemire did a lot for him (I think by now you know I WORSHIP Lemire's Moon Knight run) , he was stilll... the less useful personality. Even as he was also the oldest AND the one created to protect Marc from very nasty memories and encounters with a pedo nazi. I wish I was kidding about that last part.

But here? Here Steven could easily be the ACTUAL uhm, don't want to say first or original as I know that's the wrong word but... born to the body? And if he isn't? It doesn't matter because he STILL has a life. He is geeky as hell, he's charming, he's shy. Seeing him geek out in episode 3 about being in the Pyramid of Giza and now here when he found Alexander the Great's tomb? Those things make him far, far more real for me than him kissing Layla (Although that was to be expected. In Moon Knight, the ONE thing that the three personalities have in common is always their love interest. I don't think there was ever a run in which only one of the alters loved the current designated love interest or each alter had their own love interest. Marlene is... Pretty much untouchable right there with Mary Jane Watson) because those are things that are HIS, and not shared with Marc.

Speaking of, poor Marc. He is REALLY lost without Khonshu, for all he yelled and screamed about Khonshu being an ass. And... uhm.. HOW many gods have the egypcian pantheon stoned? Seriously, it's about time they start re-thinking their approach or Lokigator could take over in three seconds flat. And probably do a better job of protecting humanity.

I do wonder if that third sarcophagus at the end was Jake. I do hope it was Jake. I am DYING to meet Jake and see what Oscar Isaac does with him, given how perfectly different Steven and Marc are. And how little episodes we have left to meet him!

Ethan Hawke, btw, is also deserving of an Oscar (Just not Oscar Isaac, no RPF here). His "Steven Grant" was hilariously Shatnery, and his Dr. Harrow nice enough to ALMOST believe his worry for Marc. ALMOST.

May Calamawy is perfect, and I hadn't mentioned her before, sorry, but Too many things in my head. I love how Layla is so strong and so capable of taking care of herself. YES she is broken, and YES she has the worst husband ever (not that Marc is bad. He's just bad at communicating) but HELL if she's going to let that stop her from doing the right thing!

Loved seeing Crawley moving! Even if it was so short. And the asylum sequence was perfect and seriously, right out of Lemire's. I missed Khonshu, but, well, he's a bit petrified right now.

I'll admit, there was only ONE thing that I disliked from the episode, and it was Arthur's scene with Layla. Not because it was not gorgeous, incredibly shot, acted and photographed. The scene itself was great, especially as Arthur only used ENOUGH information to make Layla doubt Marc, without actually LYING to her (Seriously, he reminds me so much of The Truth... he's like a mixture of The Truth and Sun King and of course, Dr. Emmit - aka Ammit, who is a woman in the comics a- that I love him) BUT... it makes pretty clear that the scene in the Asylum is not REAL. That Marc is NOT imagining everything, and that whatever it's going on in the asylum is fake even BEFORE we meet Taweret because it's something that neither Marc nor Steven witnessed. So it makes it a bit obvious that yeah, our guys are a bit crazy, but not THAT crazy.

OTOH, I dunno how I would've kept that amazing scene later as a flashback so... I can live with it. After all, we are not that deep in mindgames that we'd think this is all in Marc's head (because btw, I LOVED that the one who woke in the Asylum was Marc and not Steven, since Steven would've made more sense given the whole "maybe you are imagining everything" angle.

Khonshu, these ramblings are getting longer every time. Damn you Marvel for only giving us 6 episodes! Please, be nice and, as you did with Loki, give us a second season!

#Moon Knight #Steven Grant #Marc Spector #Khonshu #Mr. Knight #Layla Spector #Jake Lockley #will appear sometime? I hope #Arthur Harrow #EVERYONE in the cast deserves a frigging Oscar!

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green-blue-heller · 3 years

Note

Hi!! How about a one shot with first person narrative, with Jensen thinking about the video posted yesterday by Darius (jealousy?) And also the video posted by Misha (butterflies in the stomach!)? Write this story, please! 😁

Ohhh! Thanks for being so patient while waiting for this! I absolutely loved writing it. Though, as I told you, I did struggle a little because first person isn’t my strong suit, but I love a good challenge!

Hope you love it.

Because it is Cockles RPF, I put it under the break. :)

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Title: Green with Jealousy (Read on AO3)

Cockles RPF

Words: 2174

I hadn’t meant to slam my phone down as hard as I did, and when Danneel looked up at me from across the room, one eyebrow raised, I gave a sheepish smile.

“Sorry.” My voice was low as I muttered, trying to keep my annoyance from my wife. But she knew me all too well.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her expression go soft as she put down the security monitor she had been using to keep an eye on Arrow and J.J. as they played in the twins’ room. Guilt consumed me as I watched her make her way over.

The last thing I wanted to do was let her know how stupid I was acting, but she knew me too long for me to be able to hide anything from her. That was why I didn’t even try anymore.

“What’s wrong, Jensen?” She wrapped her arms around me and rested her head on my shoulder.

I grunted, not sure how to answer her. The truth was, I wasn’t even sure what exactly it was that was bothering me. There was no reason for it. It was just this feeling that I couldn’t put a name to, that slowly started to wrap itself tight in my chest.

Or, rather, a feeling I didn’t want to put a name to.

But when I didn’t say anything, Danni turned her head and softly kissed my cheek. I closed my eyes and leaned into her touch.

And fell for her trap.

I was distracted, only for a moment, but it was enough for her to reach out and swipe my phone from the countertop.

“Danni.” I hadn’t meant for it to come out in a low growl, but it just made her chuckle as she put in my pin and unlocked my phone.

And I was helpless to do anything other than hang my head, as I knew what she was

going to find.

It only took a few seconds before the sound of Misha’s voice hit me like a freight train. It immediately sent shivers down my spine as I recalled what it was like to have him next to me, whispering in my ear.

“Aw, love.” Her voice was so soft, I almost didn’t even hear her speak. But I felt the love she had for me as she wrapped her arm around me again and kissed the top of my head, as she continued to watch the video. “I know you miss him,” she continued, trying to tame the beast she knew I could be whenever I was reminded how I was missing the other piece of my heart, “but you’ll see him soon.”

I nod, not trusting my voice as I ran a hand over my bearded cheek.

Shit. She thinks this is just because I miss him. Not that I don’t. Because of fucking course I miss him. He should be here, enjoying the snowy Colorado weather, curled up on the couch while the fire is going.

Even with three kids, the place felt too empty without Misha, Vicki, and the kids. We were supposed to be enjoying ourselves before I left for Toronto in a few weeks to film for The Boys. But, of course, something happened that canceled those plans.

Not that I could blame Misha that his doctor scheduled his hip replacement surgery the week before they were supposed to come to Colorado. It just meant that I was going to have to head out to California instead. Sure, it sucked that we couldn’t get the entire family together like we planned, and we would only get a weekend together, but I knew I should be grateful for whatever time I was able to spend with Misha.

Even if it was while he was hopped up on pain killers and wasn’t allowed to do any strenuous activities.

I bite back a grin as thoughts and schemes of what we could get away with began to trickle in my head.

But then I pick up the sound of Darius’ voice from the video Danni is still playing and I let out a scowl. It isn’t that I don’t like Darius, it’s just that I can’t help worry about how much Misha likes Darius.

Danni clears her throat and I cast a glance over to her, only to see her quirk an eyebrow at me.

I can’t even muster a guilty grin because I didn’t want to think about the jealousy that consumed me every time I thought about Misha and Darius together.

Even if they haven’t been together in almost twenty years.

But I did feel guily, and embarrassed at having been caught. It was something I needed to work on, and I knew that. This whole jealousy thing.

Misha hated it. He felt like it meant I didn’t trust him, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I just hated the thought of him wanting to kiss or be with someone else, even if it was just a joke and not real.

More than once it caused an issue at a convention. Most of our former cast mates knew about our relationship, and were understanding that there were boundaries. But I still felt like an asshole sometimes when I let it consume me.

But Darius was different. He knew Misha - not to mention he knew Misha. He was the first person he’d been with, ever. So of course the fact they were still close was going to stir up some unwanted emotions in me, despite the fact that I had never been prone to jealousy before I had me Misha.

But his relationship with Darius wasn’t something I could compete with.

Not that it was a competition.

With a sigh, I grabbed Danni and drew her close.

As I buried my face in her neck and inhales the sweet scent of freshly cut flowers, I felt myself finally begin to relax.

A few hours later, as I was getting ready to give Zepp a bath, I felt the familiar warmth of Danneel’s hand on the back of my neck. I leaned back into her touch and moved my head to kiss her palm as I flashed her a smile.

“Hey, baby. I thought you were still finishing up with Arrow? Is she almost ready for bathtime?”

“Almost. But that’s not why I’m in here.”

The wicked grin she was giving me churned my insides. “Oh, yeah?” I asked as I wiggled my brow at her.

She let out a giggle and held my phone out to me.

“Mama! Mama! Watch.” Zepp pulled Danni’s attention away from me for a moment and she gave him a soft smile.

“Hold on a second, baby. I’m going to take over for Daddy, so you can show Mama whateer you want, in just a minute, okay?”

I let out a sigh, as I love watching the way Danni is with the kids. It makes me melt every time I remember they’re mine, and that I’m lucky enough to be theirs.

But then I realize what she said and give her a questioning look.

“Why are you doing bath time tonight? It’s my turn.” I love having these little moments with the kids, things I missed a lot of while I had been filming Supernatural.

Not that I would trade any of that for anything.

But I was lucky enough to be able to have both. To have it all.

Though I could admit I liked living this quiet life in the mountains with just the wife, boyfriend, and our kids all trying to bring the house down around us.

I knew I wasn’t SuperDad, like Dee was SuperMom, but I wasn’t that bad that she’d need to come in and take over bathing the kids from me.

But she just gave me a wink as she motioned again for me to take my phone from her.

Confused, I grabbed the towel and dried off my hands before taking the phone from her.

“Why don’t you go into the bedroom and see what I have pulled up, while I take over here, cowboy?”

My heart skipped a beat as I nodded and leaned in to give Zepplin a kiss before I placed a quick kiss on Dee’s cheek and made a beeline for the bedroom.

When I had the door closed, I leaned against it for a moment and closed my eyes. I had no idea what to expect, but the anticipation was killing me.

And I didn’t want to lose that high, so I clutched it tight against my chest for a moment. But I knew I had precious little time to myself before one of the girls realized I was set free from daddy duty, and set out to find me.

Unsure of what I was going to find when I opened my phone, I reached back and slid the lock on the door into place. She hadn’t given me any warnings that it wasn’t child-friendly, but I didn’t want to take the risk.

I opened my eyes and walked over to the bed and sat down.

As I let out a breath, I steeled myself as I brought the phone up and swiped up to allow it open.

There was a video on my screen, waiting for me to press play.

When i did, music began to play and I could see a woman kneading some dough. I sat there for a few moments, wondering what it was I was watching, or why Danni felt like I needed to see it at that moment.

But within a few seconds, I saw the camera move up and reveal Liz, Misha’s sister. I knew she could sing and had heard her, Misha, and their dad sing on more than one occasion, but I had been caught so off guard, I hadn’t been able to place her voice at first.

Then another voice hit my ears and tears immediately stung my eyes.

It was a voice I would know anywhere.

There was my Mish, leaning against the kitchen counter with his sister, singing to the dough they had been making, like a bunch of goofs.

My heart stuttered and I felt butterflies in my stomach as I watched him belt out the song. It made me miss him even more, and wish the weekend would hurry up and come already so I could get back to Los Angeles and see him, Vicki, and the kids.

As he squeaked out a high note, I let out a strangled laugh and wiped the tears from my cheeks.

I played the video again, and saw the beginnings, where Dee had fast forwarded so I didn’t know what I was watching, and let out a snort at how only they would spend all day making something, even after several failed attempts when he could have just gone to the bakery a couple of miles away and gotten his pastries within a half hour.

But that was why I loved him.

He liked making things with his own hands.

If he didn’t have some part in building or shaping something, it didn’t feel as real to him. It was why he built his own house, and even most of the furniture - although, throughout the years, Vicki had managed to replace about a third of it.

But even me. Misha shaped who I had become. He built up my confidence and chipped away at the self-doubt I had. Made me believe in who I was and that I was worthy of everything I had, of everything I wanted.

Mish was the one who made me believe I deserved it.

I looked up as I heard the lock click, and smiled as Danni walked through the door.

“Hey, sweetheart,” I whispered.

“Hi.” She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed.

When she pulled back, she reached out and wiped the tears that stained my cheeks.

A sob threatened to break free from my chest, but I held it tight. I didn’t want her to see how much I was hurting. To see how much I missed Misha.

But she never missed a thing.

“Call him,” she whispered as she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my lips.

I shook my head. “Naw. It can wait.” I put my head down, but she hooked her finger under my chin and brought my face back up and stared into my eyes.

I swore that woman could see my soul, and it made me shiver.

“I know it can. But you don’t have to suffer for me, Jensen. Call your man, and tell him you love him. That you miss him. There’s no reason to deny yourself that.”

She cast me a knowing smile as she got up to leave the room again.

I gave her a grin as I thought about the sound of Misha singing in that video, and the butterflies returned as I picked my phone back up to dial his number.

*******

Taglist: @dolphindiluna @astral-from-the-pit-of-despair @kristina710

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do-not-eat-the-dove · 3 years

Text

I need to write this, I need to write this because I am so fucking angry. I am so, so fucking angry, and every problematic shipper I want you to read this. Read it, all the way through, because if you don’t then you are ignoring children you might have harmed.

Tw’s for: beastiality mention, sexual abuse mention, paedophilia mention, typical darkfic trigger warnings in essential

When I was nine, I moved into the Aphmau fandom. Earlier than that, I was an avid reader of Harry potter. Earlier than that, I was into stampy cat and iballisticsquid and skydoesminecraft. I have been in fandoms earlier than my body can remember, and I started in on wattpad when I was very, very young. Just writing, only writing. I had a vague understanding of what sex and smut was as a child, because of unmoderated youtube thumbnails. I ran into sexual themes online, because that is what a child does okay? I will admit that I knew about sex as a child if only barely.

As a kid in fandom, you don't know how to moderate things. As a literal fucking elementary schooler who doesn’t know how to differentiate “Their” “They’re” and “There”, you do not know the difference between right and wrong. You do not understand what an 18+ warning is, and you don’t know what the fuck a dead dove is and why anyone would want to eat it in the first place. You do not understand, and i think that this is something that problematic content creators expect of literal fucking children, and i also think that it is extremely irrational and condescending for you to do so.

When I was a bit older, maybe twelve/thirteen, I found ao3. I found twitter, tumblr, bnha and anime. I was excited because it was a community, so I became super involved as fast as I could. I had still not hit puberty yet. I hadn’t even learned the pythagorean theorem yet. I didn’t entirely understand variables and I had no clue that washing your face was basic hygiene. I am bringing this up to display to you that I. WAS. A. CHILD. A kid. Five years ago at this point I still had trouble jump-roping. I was a kid who had average decision-making skills for their age and who found the idea of boys gross, crushes were based on who was fastest in gym class.

I let go of tumblr because I couldn’t grasp what on earth it was supposed to be used for and how it was supposed to be used, I posted shitty depressed memes on reddit because I thought I was edgy. And then I got involved in fandom twitter.

Me, my friends, we recommended each other cute ship threads and discussed Notps and did “toxic fandom stuff” because we were children who still celebrated valentines day with sweet-tarts and holographic paper cards. I still knew jack shit about sex and relationships because as a child sex education is just “this is a penis, this is a vagina, this is how you don’t get pregnant, any questions?”

So when one day, i decide to type “BNHA” into the search bar of twitter, intent on finding cute things to share with my online friends and instead am greeted with a picture of a character raping another character, I don’t know exactly what to do.

Let me repeat that; I looked up JUST the word “BNHA”. Just that. Nothing else.

And I, a child, who has no decision making skills, clicks on the post. Because it makes me feel funny, and children are curious.

As a middle schooler. As a child who had the average physical and mental capacity to resist impulse, aka none, as someone who used Uwu and OwO unironically, who thought spelling “as” with a Z made me quirky and fun, discovered a main-tagged post of a character being nsfwed in a sexual assault.

From here, I explored. What you people don’t get is that is what children do. That is what children DO. And you, in all your wonderful wise ways, decide that it is on ME. On someone who had no understanding of what this was, to be the adult and say “I do not think this is right.” You, the thirty year old woman who maintags, are saying that to me, who was a twelve year old.

I think the most traumatic thing I read during that time was an aged-down character, who went from fifteen to five, being sexually abused and pimped out by his mother and forced to have sexual contact with dogs.

Today, I suffer from intense intrusive thoughts that I do not think I need to be diagnosed for, because constantly wondering if you’re going to be sexually assaulted by every single man you come in contact with, having to shoo away evil disgusting thoughts that have made you involuntarily gag and nearly vomit, having to deal with these awful things in my brain is proof enough. Today, I have such a deep-rooted fear of sex and men and relationships that despite me being entirely Heterosexual, wanting children in the future, having these ideas of a family, I feel incapable.

Today, I saw a fic saying that it was my own fault if I found their problematic fic, and today I raged for every child that is going to be messed up by people who choose to blameshift just because they want to use maintags.

As fandom spaces get younger, and the fan age range grows bigger I have noticed a distinct uptick in who is reading and consuming fan content on social media. I know eleven year olds, ten year olds, I have met a nine year old child who messaged like they were twenty. All of these children read fanfiction of characters that they adore, and click on fics that include those characters because they adore them.

I’m going to share another experience that I’ve had with sex and sexual abuse that was self-inflicted, but normalized by the content that I had consumed. As a child, a thirteen year old, I messaged adult men. I went on omegle text chat, I found forums for sexual roleplay, I talked to probably a dozen adults in sexual manners without them knowing or realizing. Even a few women, and I am completely certain this experience is going to scar me until the day that I fucking pass. It makes me feel empty inside, but you know what? Your fics normalized that for me. I read a tweet from an adult, someone much older than me, who talked about having gone into adult spaces as a child. They did the same thing as me. It is a trend, but while I recognize that I was too young to know what I was seeing, reading, hearing from people who were older than me and therefore authority figures, they blamed themself. And that is the most heartbreaking fucking thing.

When you maintag. When you use a main tag, that a child who does not know how to filter out scrolls down on, and they decide that this will be an okay thing for them to consume because adults know better, will you look them in the eyes and tell them the fear of things they don’t understand and haven’t even been introduced to yet is their fault? Will you tell them that ao3 is an adult site for adults and it’s their fault for being stupid enough to read it? Will you tell them that the images that will play in their minds for years until they’re desensitized and so so scared that they’re now a bad person because of it, will you tell them that it was their fault for clicking on it when they were seven, eight, nine?

Frankly, I do not give a shit about what you write. If it is in rpf and you still push it i will think you are a bad person, but other than that I could never care less. But I do care what you tag, because If you write the word bnha on twitter with an image of a young child's favorite character being sexually brutalised? If you maintag a fic where someone is starved till they are nearly dead, infantilised, sexually abused during all of it, and leave it out in the open on a site you know has children, in a fandom you know is targeted towards kids. If your tags leave a child open for attack, harm, mental scarring? I care, because I will not let another child be blamed for something they themselves did not fully understand the weight of.

#fandom #anti anti #problematic authors #problematic shipping #ao3 #archive of our own #tw #tumblr #fanfic #fandom space #I have never talked about these experiences with anyone but if there is a time to talk about it it is now.

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