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kingofbodyrolls · 3 months

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My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | four

🐴Chapter summary: You’re back in the city, but it doesn’t really feel like home— nowhere has felt like home since you were a child. When Jimin suddenly shows up unexpectedly at your apartment, you’re left wondering the depth of his feelings. 🐴Chapter title: It Comes to This 🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc 🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst 🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴Chapter warnings: mentions of not eating because of sadness, mention of past infidelity (parents), mention of past character death (parents). It’s fluff season y’all! 😍 🐴Status: completed 🥳 🐴Word count: 7.5k 🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog, @kiki-zb, @babejinnie, @ownthesunshine, @allie-is-a-panda, @glllhjh, @bergandysam, @13-manggaetteok, @jeonsbabygirlsworld,

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, check out this lovely post about it.

🐴Now playing 💿 “Locked Inside My Heart” by Rebecca Lavelle. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?] 🐴Author’s note: okay so this is a short chapter, but it’s mainly oc and Jimin and it’s mainly talking, like backstory and feelings– it’s fluffy! But damn I loved writing this chapter. You’re in for a ride!!!

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there. Wanna see the book cover?

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“I don't pretend the choice is easy I can't pretend I really know I don't believe that you can have it both ways Do you stay or do you go?” - ‘It comes to this’ by Rebecca Lavelle.

Several weeks have elapsed since your departure from the ranch, affording you the time and distance to gain some perspective. Though readjusting to city life is easy, a persistent ache in your heart testifies to the yearning for the open fields, the friendship of the girls, and even the complicated bond with your sister that you left behind.

However, you find solace in immersing yourself in your work, channeling your emotions onto the canvas with each stroke. As you complete yet another painting, a genuine smile graces your lips, proud of the creation that has sprung from the depths of your heart.

Yet, when your gaze shifts to the collection of paintings surrounding it, each depicting the rustic charm of a ranch, horses, and idyllic countryside scenes, a chuckle escapes you.

The truth is undeniable – the ranch is a constant muse, an ever-present thought that refuses to release its hold on your mind.

From the days of childhood at the ranch, where painting was a shared joy with your sister, to the present hustle of city life, your artistic passion has seamlessly evolved. Initially, it was a cherished hobby, but as the city years unfolded, it transformed into a profession. While you may not boast fame, your paintings enjoy a steady demand, affording you a comfortable life in the bustling heart of the city.

The soft vibration of your phone interrupts the creative dance of your brush against the canvas. Another painting takes shape – a girl riding her horse, an embodiment of carefree spirit with wind-kissed hair.

A sigh escapes you; these motifs only deepen the yearning for the ranch. Retrieving your phone, a message from a friend awaits, a lifeline momentarily pulling you from the realm of memories and strokes.

Minji [13.34]: GIRL, get your ass down to the cafe I miss your ass 😏

A burst of laughter escapes you at Minji's characteristically whimsical message. Swiftly, you respond, your fingertips adorned with dried paint, dancing effortlessly across the screen, assuring her that you'll join her in a heartbeat.

After rinsing your pencils and setting them out to dry, you meticulously cleanse the remnants of paint from your hands. Swiftly grabbing your handbag, you step out of your apartment, ready to face the world beyond your creative sanctuary.

In just a few steps, you find yourself at the familiar cafe where you meet Minji. Her radiant face stands out, seated outside, waving at you with infectious enthusiasm. Her ever-changing fiery red hair, a testament to her vibrant personality, frames her face elegantly. Today, she opts for glasses – bold, cat-eyed frames that add a touch of sophistication to her usual look. A departure from her usual contacts, she's adorned in a striking green sundress, perfectly complementing the vivid hue of her hair.

As you reciprocate Minji's enthusiastic wave, settling into your seat, she promptly slides a refreshing glass of iced coffee across the table to you.

“Oh, thanks.”

“No problem. Is it good to be back in the city?” Minji inquires, her bright smile accentuated by the sun's playful dance on her face, a subtle gesture accompanying her sip of iced coffee.

You respond with a nonchalant shrug, “It's fine, I guess,” the uncertainty lingering in your voice, a subtle reflection of the mixed emotions swirling within you.

Her smile falters slightly, and she leans in, eyes searching yours, “You miss it, don't you?”

The question hangs in the air, laden with understanding and curiosity.

You nod in acknowledgment, sinking into your seat as your fingers trace the rim of the glass. A frustrated sigh escapes your lips, “I do... more than I thought I would.”

Her chuckle fills the air, and she offers you a soft, reassuring smile. “Maybe it's time to go back?” she suggests, her eyes holding a glint of encouragement.

You ponder her question for a moment, though you've wrestled with this very dilemma countless times. “I don't think I can,” you admit, the words carrying the weight of your internal struggle.

Leaning in, she bridges the gap between you two, her eyes searching yours, “Why?”

You release another heavy sigh, frustration echoing in the air as you lift the glass of ice coffee to your lips. “First, my sister hates me; she made it clear she doesn't want to see me again,” you confess, the memory of your strained departure from Jessi lingering. “Second, I believe I royally messed up by sleeping with the wrong brother.”

Minji's eyes widened in shock, her curiosity instantly piqued. “You never mentioned this! Spill the details!”

You release another exasperated sigh. “Yeah, well, I met Jungkook at the party, and he's ridiculously good-looking, you know?” Minji nods knowingly, urging you to continue. “So, I ended up sleeping with him at the party, and later I discover that Jimin is his brother.”

Minji's eyes widen once more, and her mouth drops in shock at your revelation. “Jimin? The same Jimin you had a crush on when you were a kid?!”

“Yes, that Jimin,” you groan, taking a longer sip of your ice coffee. The cold liquid provides a welcome contrast against the warmth of the sun caressing your skin.

“Do you see my dilemma now?” you sigh dramatically, a huff punctuating your frustration.

“Not really,” she chuckles loudly, her laughter echoing with contagious joy. You gaze at her, curious about the cryptic message in her amusement.

“You fucked him once right? It's not like you were in a committed relationship or anything, and people make mistakes,” you look at her, waiting for her to finish her thought. “I don't see it as a problem. You didn't know they were brothers; it's not like you intentionally sought out his brother. I think you're overthinking it. Sometimes life just throws these curveballs at us.” She shrugs her shoulders with a reassuring smile, trying to convey that she doesn't see this situation as problematic, unlike how you perceive it.

“Do you have any idea if Jimin has a thing for you?” She inquires with a mischievous smirk, playfully emphasizing her question with a sly raise of her eyebrow.

“I'm not sure, but according to Jungkook, he does. Jimin's been giving me these intense stares, and it's starting to feel like he's been studying me,” you confide in her. It's a relief to finally share the thoughts that have been swirling in your head over the past few weeks.

“Girl, you should totally jump his dick!” Minji exclaims, her voice escalating in excitement, drawing glances from other tables. A blush creeps up on your cheeks as she practically shrieks the suggestion, and you quickly hush her, “Aish, keep it down.”

You roll your eyes and scoff, “You don't have to alert the whole neighborhood, you know.”

“Ah, sorry. I got overexcited. But it sounds like Jimin likes you,” she teases, giving you a smirk. “If he does, I don't think he sees it as a problem that you had sex with his brother once.”

“Half brother,” you add, and her eyes practically sparkle with intrigue at this new piece of information.

“I say go for it,” she leans back into her chair, sipping on her iced coffee proudly. “Also, I think you should go back and mend things with your sister.”

You groan at the thought, envisioning a scenario that seems destined for disaster. Shaking your head, you can't fathom how it would unfold positively.

“Bitch, take a good look at your paintings lately. Every piece you've shared in our chat revolves around ranches or horses. If that's not your heart screaming out what you truly desire, you must be blind.” She laughs as you furrow your brow, but in your heart, you acknowledge the undeniable truth in her words.

For weeks, your heart has been instinctively immortalizing the place you've desperately yearned for and at the same time desperately tried to erase from your thoughts. Each stroke of paint on canvas was a poignant reminder of the struggle to suppress those nostalgic pangs.

For the remainder of your coffee date with Minji, you delve into the intricacies of her life, relishing the distraction it provides. It's a welcome reprieve to immerse yourself in someone else's narrative, if only momentarily, allowing you to temporarily set aside the weight of your own troubles.

As the coffee date concludes, you bid Minji farewell with a heartfelt hug and a gentle kiss on the cheek. The warmth of her gesture lingers, accompanying you on the walk back to your apartment, a comforting echo in the quiet corridors of your thoughts.

Returning to your apartment, you scavenge the fridge for any remnants of a meal, opting for a quick reheat in the microwave. The familiar routine finds you on the couch, mindlessly consuming your food while the television blares, its content serving as mere background noise to the symphony of your contemplations.

In the last few weeks, nourishment has been an elusive companion, and the reason echoes within the recesses of your consciousness. Since bidding farewell to the ranch, your attempts at a hearty meal have been feeble at best. Despite your earnest endeavors, the appetite that once danced with enthusiasm seems to have deserted you entirely.

As you sigh, the rhythm of your fork against the plate harmonizes with the contemplation swirling in your mind.

Two diverging paths lay before you, each demanding consideration - to stay or to go?

Simultaneously, the looming question of the inheritance casts its shadow, forcing you to grapple with the decision to sell or keep it?

As uncertainty clouds your thoughts, a myriad of possibilities unfold before you. Returning to the ranch might mean facing your sister's wrath once more, while selling your share could sever ties irreversibly.

Yet, holding onto your stake without a return holds the promise of avoiding immediate consequences.

Startled by an unexpected knock on your door, you briefly contemplate ignoring it. However, the persistent tapping forces you off the couch, curiosity and caution intertwining as you approach to unravel the mystery at your doorstep.

Swinging the door open, your astonishment peaks as you come face to face with none other than Jimin, a soft and warm smile gracing his features.

His unexpected presence leaves you momentarily speechless, your mouth falling open as you drink in the sight of him. Clad in a loose-fitted shirt, denim pants, and those boots that never fail to catch your eye, he exudes an effortless charm. His tousled hair adds to the allure, making him nothing short of breathtakingly handsome.

A sense of amazement causes your eyes to flutter, leaving you standing there like a floundering fish caught off guard. His chuckle breaks the moment, and you realize you haven't even managed to say a simple ‘hi’.

“Jimin?” You inquire, quickly scanning your surroundings to ensure there's no one else lurking behind, ready to spring a surprise on you.

He runs a hand through his tousled hair, a warm smile playing on his lips. “Hey,” he greets with a hint of shyness.

“Come in,” you invite, your voice carrying a mix of curiosity and anticipation. As he enters, his eyes wander around the compact hallway, absorbing the essence of your two-bedroom sanctuary. It might not be a sprawling space, but it's a reflection of you – a place where every corner holds a piece of your story.

He chuckles nervously, a melody that dances through the room as he slips off his shoes. The familiar sight of them, adorned with the remnants of mud, speaks of untold adventures and stories etched in every speck of dirt.

“What brings you here, Jimin?” you inquire, fixing him with eyes filled with curiosity and anticipation, silently urging him to reveal the purpose behind his unexpected visit.

“I came here because there's something I wanted to talk to you about,” he begins, strolling deeper into your apartment. As he glances around, you can't help but feel a twinge of self-consciousness, as if he's peering into your soul, carefully examining every painting, lamp, and piece of decor that surrounds you.

“Do you paint?” he inquires, his gaze drawn to the easel tucked in the corner of your living room, surrounded by a towering collection of finished paintings. Intrigued, he moves closer to your creative space. His eyes sweep over the current painting on the easel – the one capturing a girl on her horse, wind tousling her hair – and then shift to the array of your ‘country’ collection resting against the walls.

“These are stunning. I had no idea you were an artist,” he remarks, his eyes lingering on the paintings, and he turns to you with a wide, appreciative smile.

“Thank you,” you reply, a touch of embarrassment coloring your cheeks, as compliments have always had a way of making you a bit bashful.

“I really hope these paintings find their way into the world, they're exceptional!” he exclaims, his eyes drawn to the one capturing a ranch perched on a hill, surveying a paddock filled with graceful horses.

“Actually, it's my livelihood, so yeah,” you respond with a soft smile, a mix of embarrassment from his praise and a sense of pride for your craft.

“That's incredible,” he remarks, shifting his body towards you, his gaze traveling from your head to your toes.

“You mentioned wanting to talk?” His gaze feels like a gentle but persistent probing, causing you to fidget nervously with the hem of your sundress.

“Sure, let's go to a cafe and have that talk,” he suggests, a glimmer of anticipation in his eyes.

“Absolutely, there's this adorable cafe nearby with the most delightful desserts. What do you think?” you suggest, a smile playing on your lips. Despite your efforts to downplay it, the word 'date' echoes in your mind, and your heart betrays your intentions, quickening its pace at the mere thought.

“Lead the way,” he nods, accompanying the words with a casual stroll back to the hallway.

Silently, you both slip into your shoes, you secure your purse, and step out of your apartment, descending the stairs to the lively streets below. As you navigate the urban buzz, your mind races at a million miles per hour, anticipation building as you wonder about the conversation he's eager to share.

The dessert cafe you're aiming for is a bit of a trek compared to the one you frequented with Minji. The silence between you and Jimin persists, almost becoming stifling as your curiosity intensifies. You can't help but wonder, could something significant have occurred involving Jessi?

The café looms into view, and a surge of anticipation prompts you to quicken your steps. Anxious to unravel the mystery of Jimin's conversation, you settle into an outdoor seat, basking in the warmth of the sun as you eagerly peruse the menu.

Curiosity dances in your eyes as you look up from the menu, questioning, “What do you want to get?” Your intrigue extends beyond the dessert options, yearning to discover the nuances of Jimin's taste in sweets.

A tender smile graces his lips as he places his order, “Just a chocolate cake and a strawberry bubble tea is fine.” You find his simplicity endearing and decide with a chuckle, “I'll have the same then.”

Making your way to the counter, you confidently order the tempting treats, savoring the anticipation. After settling the bill, you return to your seat, careful not to spill a drop of the deliciousness awaiting you in those cups.

You dismiss his attempt to split the bill with a warm smile, insisting that it's your treat. As you explain, a gentle generosity glows in your eyes, emphasizing your delight in sharing this small but delightful moment with him.

As you raise the fork, poised to indulge in the decadent chocolate cake, your gaze locks onto his enchanting brown eyes. With a flicker of curiosity, you inquire, “So, what's on your mind?”

A nervous chuckle escapes him, and he shields his smile with a hand, his eyes betraying a hint of unease.

“It's about you actually,” he admits, his words hanging in the air with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty.

Your eyes widen, and your parted lips reflect the shock of his revelation. The mere idea that he wants to talk about you sends your heart into a frenzied rhythm. His gaze, soft as clouds, envelops you, and you can't help but feel a flutter of anticipation in the depths of your chest.

Your eyes widen, and you question him with a mixture of surprise and nervousness, “Me?” The fluttering sensation in your stomach intensifies, and your hand hovers over the plate of decadent chocolate cake, dessert forgotten in the wake of unexpected revelation.

He starts, sipping through the straw of his strawberry bubble tea, “We miss you.”

You eye him, the flutters in your stomach intensifying—what does he mean by ‘we’?

“Everybody back home,” he smiles, his eyes crinkling with joy, yet a subtle twinge of sadness lurks beneath the surface, like shadows in the sunlight. You find yourself drawn to the complexity of his emotions, wondering what lies behind the façade of happiness.

You exhale, a heavy sigh carrying the weight of memories and emotions. “That place isn't my home anymore,” you confess, shoulders tensed against the flood of sentiments rushing back.

A subtle flinch in his eyes, a pang of hurt in his gaze—it leaves you questioning whether his sadness is somehow tethered to you. But that couldn't be true, could it?

“It could be,” he says, his eyes softening into a small smile, “everybody misses you, even your sister.”

At this, you arch an eyebrow, a hint of disbelief coloring your expression. “That doesn't sound like Jessi,” you laugh, though the sound is forced and choked.

“Well, she does. She feels bad for how she treated you,” he begins, and the tinge of sadness creeps back onto his face.

“Did Jessi send you here?” you question with a watchful and stern eye, not appreciating the unexpected turn in the conversation.

“No! Absolutely not!” he defends vehemently in mere seconds, sounding almost disgusted that you've even entertained the thought.

“I came here for me. Well, mostly for you,” he grins again, a warm and inviting smile that makes his wonderful brown eyes disappear, and you can't help but reciprocate with a smile of your own.

“I want you to reconsider coming back,” he adds, finally poking at his dessert. You look at him cautiously. “When you left the first time, it made me really sad,” he takes a bite of his cake before speaking again, “and when you left this time, it made me really sad again. The ranch isn't the same without you.”

You give him a contemplative smile, truly empathizing with his feelings, but you remain uncertain about returning to the ranch. The internal struggle weighs on your expression, caught between the desire to make him happy and the uncertainty that lingers within you.

“I'm sorry, Jimin. It's just... I'm not sure if returning is what I want,” you express, lifting the fork to your mouth, savoring the delicious cake. The sincerity in your apology mingles with the rich taste of dessert, creating a bittersweet moment.

“I noticed those paintings in your room. Are you sure you don’t want to come back?” he challenges, his gaze intense. An airy laugh escapes you, acknowledging the truth. Logic may dictate one thing, but your heart whispers another, a silent yearning for what once was.

Jimin leans in, a trace of chocolate on his lips captivating your attention, but you resist the urge to interrupt as he continues, “The ranch belongs to you just as much as it does to your sister.”

You nod in acknowledgment, grappling with the weight of truth in his words. The decision about your share of the ranch hangs in the balance, a pivotal choice between holding onto it or following through with your initial plan to sell.

“I know Jessi can be stubborn,” he remarks, and you burst into laughter, the shared recognition of your sister's stubbornness creating a light-hearted moment that echoes with his laughter.

His laughter fades, and he continues, “You can always return and hold onto your share of the ranch. That place is your home.”

You allow his words to linger within you for a moment, your gaze briefly captivated by the small piece of chocolate on his lips. A smile plays on your lips as you lick your finger, reaching out to his face. With a gentle swipe, you remove the tiny morsel of chocolate from his mouth. In that instant, his eyes widen slightly, yet he remains still, observing your every movement with a hawk-like intensity.

He grins warmly, releasing an airy chuckle that dances through the air. You lean back in your chair, savoring the sweet notes of your bubble tea as you both share a moment of easy laughter.

Appreciation colors your voice as you express your gratitude, genuinely thankful for his words and the warmth of his company today. “I'll give it some thought,” you add, leaving the door open to the possibility he's presented.

As the last bites of cake vanish, and the lingering taste of bubble tea fades, Jimin breaks the companionable silence with a suggestion that catches you off guard, “How about some shopping?” The invitation hangs in the air, carrying the promise of a new adventure.

His unexpected proposal catches you off guard, and you almost choke on the lingering taste of your drink. Despite the surprise, you find yourself nodding in agreement, silently marveling at the surreal nature of this man before you.

In the heart of the city, Jimin sweeps you away on an impromptu shopping spree, indulging your every desire to explore the stores. Patiently, he waits as you try on different outfits, offering his honest opinions on each. The experience is surprisingly intimate, radiating a domestic charm that lingers in the air. Though it simmers with the essence of a date, you resist delving too deeply into that notion, attempting to soothe the fluttering butterflies and the electrifying sensation that accompanies each of his glances.

“This is really nice,” Jimin remarks with a soft smile as the two of you stroll down the bustling street. After spending a few delightful hours shopping, you're en route back to your apartment when a captivating dress in a window display captures your attention. Jimin notices your gaze fixated on the black, flowery dress with its gracefully flowing skirt. “Do you want to try it?”

“Ah, but I'm getting tired,” you confess, allowing your body to sag against his, savoring the reassuring firmness of his shoulder. His touch sends sparks coursing through your entire being. You're keenly aware that Jimin must be weary too; his limp has become more pronounced, hinting at potential fatigue or pain from too much walking. Despite your concern, you hesitate to pry, choosing to respect his privacy for now.

“Humor me,” he chuckles, playfully guiding you into the store. Together, you locate the dress effortlessly. Fingers grazing the hangers, you zero in on your size and confidently snatch it.

Making your way to the dressing rooms, you draw the curtains, stepping into the private space. Stripping off your clothes, you prepare to slip into the alluring fabric of the dress.

As the dress drapes over your silhouette, you gaze at your reflection in the dressing room mirror. There's an immediate sense of admiration, an unspoken agreement between you and the dress. You don't need to analyze it; the feeling of confidence envelops you. The heart-shaped neckline accentuates your collarbones, and the dress gracefully reaches your knees, a perfect harmony of style and comfort.

Parting the curtains, you step out, adorned in the black flowery dress, and as Jimin's eyes land on you, his pupils dilate, capturing a moment of speechlessness. A playful chuckle escapes you, and, reveling in the newfound confidence, you gracefully twirl in the dress, the fabric swirling around you like a dance partner.

You wear the dress with an air of effortless elegance, and as Jimin utters his compliment, a warm smile graces his lips, “You look really good in that dress.”

However, when you meet his gaze, you're drawn into the depth of his eyes – dark and possessive, a captivating intensity that sparks a desire to unravel the mysteries concealed within them, as if they hold secrets worth exploring for hours.

Gratitude colors your words, “Thank you. I really like it too,” as your fingers caress the soft fabric of the dress. The tactile sensation adds to the pleasure, leaving you appreciating not just the appearance but the luxurious feel of the material.

“I'll get it for you,” he insists with a warm smile, brushing off your attempts to protest. Despite your insistence that you can purchase it yourself, he remains resolute.

“Consider it a gift,” he adds, turning a simple shopping moment into a gesture of unexpected generosity, leaving you both touched and perplexed by his insistence on making your day a little brighter.

Opting not to pry further, you offer him a soft, sweet smile, your heart fluttering erratically within your chest. “Thank you,” you express with genuine gratitude, appreciating the gesture and the unspoken connection between you two.

Once you've changed back into your familiar attire, Jimin accompanies you to the cashier, graciously settling the bill for the dress. As you both exit the store, a shared secret wrapped in the fabric of the new dress, you stroll back to your apartment in a comfortable silence, the anticipation of unspoken feelings lingering in the air.

You opt for takeout, a ritual of comfort that usually involves lounging on the couch, indulging in a feast of flavors while the TV bathes the room in a soft glow. Surprisingly, Jimin embraces the laid-back ambiance, seamlessly blending into the familiar routine as if he's been a part of it all along.

As the meal unfolds, a symphony of flavors dancing on your taste buds, the room is graced with a comfortable silence occasionally interrupted by snippets of conversation. After savoring the last bite and clearing away the remnants of your feast, you gravitate back to the inviting embrace of the couch, sinking into its cushions.

Nestled side by side, your arms subtly entwined in a delicate dance of proximity, you both sink into the plush cushions of the couch, the gentle hum of the TV providing a soothing backdrop to the quiet intimacy shared in the room.

“Hey, considering it's getting late, how about crashing here tonight? I wouldn't want you navigating the midnight roads,” you suggest, extending a warm invitation, while your hands effortlessly choreograph a symphony of comfort by fetching drinks for both of you.

“If you don’t mind, I’d love to,” he grins, settling into your couch as if it were a familiar embrace, a subtle warmth filling the room.

“I actually wanted to tell you something else too,” he confesses, the air thick with anticipation as you turn your gaze fully on him, hanging on to every word like a secret waiting to unfold.

“I wanted to tell you about what happened after you left, all those years ago, when your father took you away,” he begins, drawing in a deep breath that elevates his chest, momentarily diverting your gaze to his well-defined pectorals.

“Okay, I'm all ears,” you respond, shifting your body towards his, allowing your knee to lightly brush against his thigh, a subtle shiver coursing down your spine.

“Well, shortly after you left, my mother passed away,” he begins to share, the weight of sorrow evident on his face, his hands involuntarily clenching as he revisits the painful memory.

“I'm truly sorry to hear that,” you express sympathetically, your hand instinctively finding its way to his thigh. Offering a gentle squeeze, a soft, almost inaudible moan escapes from him, revealing the vulnerability beneath his tough exterior.

“It's alright, it happened a long time ago,” he reassures, his hand covering yours on his thigh, a warm and comforting presence. Returning the sentiment with a smile, you encourage him to continue, sensing the weight of his past experiences.

“Well, we had the whole funeral thing and all that,” he sighs, a hint of deflation and bitterness in his hazel eyes, “but my dad remarried two months after.”

Your mouth falls open, and you gape at him, a strange gasping sound escaping. “Fuck,”" is all you manage to say. The revelation hits you hard, and you can't believe it. “He really remarried two months after your mother died?” Your voice carries a mix of surprise, hurt, and confusion, echoing the shock that reverberates through your thoughts.

“Yep. That's my dad for you,” he jokes and laughs, yet the lingering hurt is evident in his eyes. “The man couldn't be alone, you know. Some people just can't be alone. So he got in touch with one of his ex-girlfriends,” Jimin's eyes soften as he speaks, but a touch of sadness still shadows his gaze.

“And that's how I found out I had a half-brother,” he exhales, sinking back into the couch. You gape at him, utterly surprised by his revelation, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

“So you had no idea about Jungkook at all?” you ask, your hand instinctively covering your mouth. He shakes his head, a silent confirmation of the tangled web of secrets unraveling before you.

“No. My dad never told me. He admitted he knew immediately when he got Jungkook's mother pregnant. He paid her to stay away, and then, when my mother passed away, he promised her anything and everything she desired.” He clenches his hands, attempting to steady his breath. Despite his efforts, you can sense the struggle, prompting you to squeeze his thigh in reassurance, hoping to anchor him to the present moment.

“But Jungkook is younger than you, right?” you question, trying to reconcile the timeline in your head.

“Oh, yeah. My dad cheated on my mother with Jungkook's mother,” he says, running his hand through his hair, a pained expression crossing his face as he seeks solace in the reassuring grip of your hand.

“The whole thing was really hard on me as a kid, and accepting Jungkook as my brother was a struggle. We fought a lot, you know, all the typical sibling stuff,” he chuckles, the sound carrying a sense of relief and maturity, as if the weight of the past has lightened with time. You can sense they've come a long way since their childhood conflicts, now being grown men.

“What about your dad and Jungkook’s mom?” The question slips out, and you realize that neither Jimin nor Jungkook has spoken about their parents, especially considering you haven’t seen them on the ranch at all.

He takes a deep breath before responding, “They both died in a car accident a few years ago.”

“Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry!” you exclaim, berating yourself for asking such a thoughtless question. You don't want to deepen his sorrow any further.

“Oh, it's okay. It happens, people die—that's partly why I just want to live my life to the fullest, you know?” The sadness lingering in his eyes persists, but now you can discern flickers of something more, a burning passion he talks about, the determination to embrace life to its fullest.

Under your hand on his thigh, you can feel his leg shake, and you're left wondering whether it's nervousness or somehow related to his limping. Now that he's shared such personal details, you contemplate whether it's the right moment to broach the subject and inquire about the cause of his limp.

“Jimin, there's something I've been wanting to ask you ever since I returned,” you confess, a twinge of nervousness coursing through you. The question is deeply personal, and you're aware that he might not be comfortable answering. Nonetheless, you're determined to respect whatever choice he makes.

He inches closer, his body melding with yours, the shared warmth creating an intimate cocoon. “What's been occupying your thoughts?” he asks, his voice a gentle invitation.

The words tumble out, a torrent of concern escaping your lips, “Why are you limping?”

The raw honesty hangs in the air, and you wince, wondering if your directness was too much. You cringe internally, hoping your curiosity doesn't come off as intrusive.

The softness in his gaze is accompanied by a profound sadness in his eyes, tugging at your heartstrings and making you ache to envelop him in a comforting embrace.

The revelation unfolds like a carefully guarded secret, his voice carrying the weight of past pain and bitterness. “I was in a riding accident as a teenager. The horse crashed down on my right leg, crushing it. I couldn't walk, underwent surgery, and then grueling therapy to reclaim my mobility. But,” he adds with a hint of lingering hurt, “I'll always have this limping gait.” The anguish in his tone resonates, painting a vivid picture of a tumultuous journey.

Emotion wells up within you, threatening to spill over, but you muster the strength to keep it in check. “Does it ache when you walk for extended periods or ride?”

The concern in your voice echoes the silent understanding that you share this moment, grappling with the reality of his persistent pain.

He graces you with a tender smile. “Yes, it does hurt, but I've grown accustomed to the pain,” he admits with a quiet resilience, revealing a depth of strength beneath the surface.

As you smile, a wave of empathy washes over you, a bittersweet blend of happiness for his strength and sorrow for the pain he endures. Deep down, an earnest wish stirs within you — a longing to ease the burden he carries, if only you could find a way.

“Does it hurt right now?” Concern colors your voice as you inch closer, your question laced with genuine worry. Leaning in, you search his eyes, silently hoping to catch a glimpse of the pain he might be hiding behind that soft smile.

His nod carries the weight of unspoken battles, each subtle movement a testament to the persistent ache he endures, “It does.”

Your hand, poised on his thigh, ventures boldly along the contours of his powerful leg. Locking eyes, you witness the subtle shift in his gaze, growing more intense with each upward movement of your hand. As your fingers edge perilously close to his crotch, you pause, your touch transforming into a soothing massage. A question lingers in the air, “Is this okay?”

“Y-Yes,” he breathes, the sound carrying a breathless quality, reminiscent of a soft moan. You decide not to dwell on that, focusing instead on the intent behind your actions. If your touch can alleviate even a fraction of his pain, you're determined to offer him the relief he deserves.

Your hand tightens its grip on his thigh, and you observe the way he nervously bites his lip. As you massage his thigh, your movements tracing a path from his knee to his crotch and back up, you become aware of the building tension in the room. Your hands start to feel clammy, mirroring the quickening pace of Jimin's breath, matching the rhythm of your own. It dawns on you that, in the process, you're unintentionally exploring intimate territories, practically groping him and feeling him up!

Your hands retreat as if recoiling from a burn, a sudden surge of embarrassment coloring your cheeks. “I'm sorry,” you utter, the words stumbling out, attempting to cloak the awkwardness that now hangs in the air between you two.

A rush of heat floods your cheeks, a vivid blush that likely extends to your ears. You curse your hands for their wanderings and your horny mind.

“It’s okay,” a reassuring chuckle escapes him, though the aftermath of your touch lingers in his eyes, a subtle impact you can't ignore. The flutters in your stomach take flight once more, swirling in a dance of unspoken tension.

“Would you be up for a movie?” you propose, attempting to redirect the conversation and steer clear of the tantalizing thoughts that have momentarily consumed your mind.

“Sure.” He says with a smile, sinking into the comfort of the couch as you scroll through movies on your phone. With a seamless connection, you stream a quirky rom com from your phone to the TV - a foolproof choice for a laid-back evening.

As the movie unfolds its scenes, Jimin gradually inches closer until your bodies meld together; his warmth envelops you, a comforting shield against the world. Drowsiness creeps in, causing your body to lean against Jimin's solid frame. The rhythmic thud of his heartbeat, resonating beneath your ear on his firm chest, creates a soothing lullaby. Oblivious to the movie's narrative, you succumb to a cascade of yawns, surrendering to the peaceful pull of sleep.

Wrapped in Jimin’s embrace, he becomes a haven of security and comfort, a living embodiment of home. In his presence, your tense muscles unwind, and your heartbeat harmonizes with his, creating a comforting rhythm. As relaxation unfurls through your being, your head descends, settling into the warmth of his lap. Unbeknownst to you, soft breaths escape your lips as sleep claims you, while Jimin, tenderly stroking your cheek and hair. Little do you know, three words escape his lips, destined to alter the course of your life.

In the morning, you gradually rouse to the sensation of something firm pressing against your face, yet there's an unexpected tenderness, a gentle caress against your skin. Your pillow, typically mundane, now cradles your head in an oddly satisfying manner, prompting you to nuzzle into it, seeking additional solace. A contented murmur escapes your lips in fatigue as you attempt to stretch your limbs, only to discover the subtle ache that permeates your entire body.

Wait.

Your eyes snap open in realization. This isn't the familiar embrace of your bed, and the comforting pillow beneath your head is anything but ordinary. A surge of awareness courses through you as you come to terms with an unexpected reality – you're sprawled across Jimin's thigh.

More precisely, you’re nestled against his groin, where you abruptly discover the undeniable evidence of his morning arousal.

You spring to attention, the warmth of embarrassment coloring your cheeks, heart racing like a runaway train against your ribcage. In the hazy glow of early morning, you fumble for the most sincere apology you can conjure, breathlessly exclaiming, “Oh, goodness! I'm so sorry!”

As you settle onto the couch, your gaze locks with his still sleepy and drowsy eyes. The realization hits that you both must have drifted off in this intimate position, with you cradled in the warmth of his inviting lap.

Jimin's chuckle resonates like a melodious tune in the early morning, a soothing sound that plays a soft serenade to your ears. Despite your efforts to steady your heartbeat and contain the fluttering sensations, his laughter creates a symphony that dances through the awakening air.

“It's okay. I just woke up,” he rises and stretches, a lazy yawn escaping his lips. Why does he have to look this enticing? His blonde locks cascade in unruly curls, framing a face that's both soft and slightly puffy from sleep. Those pink lips, as if kissed by the night, slightly nibbled, beckon dangerous thoughts. As he stretches, biceps tensing and shirt teasingly riding up, a glimpse of his happy trail emerges, a sight your eyes try to resist but fail. Damn it, you scold yourself, but then his armpit becomes visible, and even that seems inexplicably appealing.

Oh, he smells divine—powdery softness, a hint of sweetness, warmth, and richness all mingling to craft an intoxicating musky scent. It envelops you, leaving your entire being tingling with an irresistible allure.

Jimin appears entirely unfazed, but you're left feeling utterly flustered, convinced your cheeks must be ablaze. “I'm so sorry for dozing off on you. I meant to offer you my bed, but I guess I fell asleep before I could say anything,” you chuckle, trying to shake off the lingering traces of sleep from your weary body.

A sudden realization strikes you like a bolt of lightning.

Oh my god. If you’re sore, Jimin must be too! You practically slept on his injured leg!

“I apologize for your leg—I can't believe I slept on it. I might have undone all the massage from yesterday,” you groan in frustration, scolding yourself for your apparent weakness for this man. He's your childhood friend, the one who came and told you that you belong— at the place you once called home, reigniting something dormant within you, a feeling that has slumbered for centuries, now awakening and blossoming slowly.

“It's really okay,” he assures you with a soft squeeze to your leg. His hand feels firm and warm, mirroring his comforting presence. You realize a desire for more, but you tread carefully on dangerous waters, doing your best to keep your more horny thoughts in check.

“I'll have to head back soon,” he says, punctuating his statement with another heartfelt yawn, a languid stretch emphasizing the inevitable departure.

“Do you like pancakes? I could whip up a batch before you head out,” you suggest, caught between the genuine desire to treat him to a hearty breakfast and the subtle hope that it might extend his stay, sparing him the long drive on an empty stomach.

“Absolutely,” he responds, his soft smile revealing a glimpse of those charmingly crooked teeth. As you rise from your seat and head into the kitchen to whip up the pancakes, a subtle urgency whispers in your mind, warning that if you linger too long, keeping your hands to yourself might become an increasingly challenging feat.

With a culinary flair, you whip up the pancakes in record time, the aroma of warm batter filling the air. As you both settle around the small dining table, the atmosphere is filled with the comforting clinks of cutlery against plates. Amidst bites of fluffy pancakes, Jimin unveils the captivating tale of wild horses roaming the ranch, a narrative that unfolds with tales of Yoongi's quest to tame these untamed spirits, turning them into dependable companions through a gentle, patient approach.

Fascinated, you ponder the intricacies of Jimin's story. “I had no idea such a thing was possible,” you muse, savoring a sip of water as if to quench not just your thirst but also your curiosity.

“Yoongi has a real knack for gentling horses, it's like second nature to him,” he shares, his smile lighting up the room as he effortlessly joins you in tidying up after the meal.

As the moment lingers, a subtle sense of farewell hovers in the air, but you're not quite ready to part ways with Jimin. The warmth of his company, the echoes of the past, all make you wish he didn't have to leave just yet.

Gratitude colors his words as he stands in the hallway, boots on, ready to step out into the world again. “Thank you for having me over,” he expresses, his gaze carrying a blend of sincerity and a hint of reluctance.

“No problem,” you respond with a soft smile, “having you here was truly enjoyable.”

“I hope to see you again, maybe back home?” His gaze lingers in your eyes for what feels like an eternity. There you stand, like a lovestruck fool, anticipating the one thing your brain has been yearning for since you glimpsed his softly bitten lips in the morning. The hope in his voice resonates, causing your heart to beat erratically in your chest once more.

Your gaze rises to meet his, and as he strides closer, his eyes lock onto yours. The proximity is electrifying; you sense his warm breath teasing your face, and anticipation builds as he leans in, closing the space between you.

You surrender to the moment, shutting your eyes as his warm hands cradle your cheeks. A delicate touch, his nose brushes against yours, setting off a delightful jolt that courses through your entire being. Then, in a tender ascent, his plush lips descend upon your forehead, leaving an imprint of warmth that lingers.

Instinctively, your fingers tighten around his biceps, a reflexive response to the unexpected closeness. A soft chuckle escapes your lips as the realization dawns – he's kissing your forehead, a gentlemanly gesture that leaves a trail of warmth lingering on your skin.

He withdraws, and as you open your eyes, his warm, smiling face is the last thing you see. “See you at home,” he whispers, leaving you with a fluttering heart and a lingering promise in the air.

As he gracefully exits the room, descending the stairs with an effortless charm, your heart beats wildly, a flutter of butterflies threatening to carry you away. Your entire being tingles, breath caught in a sweet suspension. A lovestruck smile plays on your lips, lingering like the echo of his presence.

Home.

He wants you to come home.

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I appreciate every like, comment and reblog (a reblog would really help getting the story out more), and please don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy, so please don’t be a silent reader 💜

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#jimin x reader #jimin smut #jimin fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader #my heart's home series #reader: female #au: cowboy #au: ranch #au: soulmates #au: childhood friends #au: friends to lovers #au: slice of life #theme: summer #vibe: smutty #vibe: romcom #vibe: angst #vibe: fluffy

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zhongrin · 1 year

Text

insignificant (pt.1 / 2)

◇ characters ◇ al haitham, cyno, wanderer, ayato

◇ tags ◇ angst, hurt no comfort, major character death (you), slight description of dead bodies, hints of wanderer's story spoiler, hints of cyno's backstory spoiler

◇ a/n ◇ happy birthday kazu @kazuuaki ily <3

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

numb.

when the news reached al haitham's ears, it feels like something was forcefully carved out of him. it’s a nostalgic feeling, but it was still unwelcome nonetheless. he moves on auto-pilot from thereon; nodding and following the messenger calmly, expression as stony as ever despite the dimming of his previously verdant green optics.

even when he sees your body - bruises and scratches marring your skin, the unnatural bend of your joints... and yet still, you look like the most gorgeous being in his eyes - he doesn’t cry. he simply confirms your identity before walking out of the morgue and immediately starting on preparations of your funeral.

he doesn’t want to touch you because he wants to remember your soft, warm hug as you left that morning for a commission, and not the chilling cold as rigor mortis settled in. he doesn’t want to see you any longer because he fears he’ll forget the lively grin on your expression and the love in your eyes as you promised each other to take care and stay safe-

never in his life had he imagined you would be the one who would break your promise to each other first.

but then again, the fact that you chose him at all was a big mystery even to him. what else did you see in him besides his intellect and stability? did you really mean it when you said you didn’t mind his bluntness and selfishness? did you ever regret getting into a relationship with him? did you ever dream of the same future that he saw in his own dreams?

in your last moments, did you think of the future you lost with him? did you curse him for not being there? did you…. at least…. pass on instantly?

the thoughts continue to run in circles inside his head, breaking the sentences of the book he reads and the paperwork he needs to sign as the acting grand sage. he finds himself continuously turning up the volume of the music in his soundproof headphones. his attention span diminishes. his temper worsens.

"are you hearing yourself right now?" kaveh seethes, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

a blank and stone-cold facade is all he gets from al haitham, “this is a meaningless topic to dwell on. i have made my statement clear and if you can’t see my point, i’m afraid it would be impossible to find a middle ground.”

“ugh, i swear to archons, you’re as stubborn as a mule! i really don’t understand why [name] likes y-” the blonde halts, the annoyance in his expression dropping into guilt and horror in mere milliseconds.

a chilly silence falls.

“i-i’m sorry. that was insensitive of-”

the older male's breath hitched. years of knowing the scribe as an acquaintance-turned-roommate, and yet this expression was a completely new sight to the architect. sure, kaveh does find the silver-haired male annoying sometimes, but he was no heartless monster - in fact, that was a title he thought his roommate held…

… that is, until today, as he witnessed the first tear fall down his roommate’s eye, therefore proving his hypothesis completely and utterly wrong.

“al haitham...”

“i don’t understand either.”

and he supposes it would stay as the one mystery he would never be able to unravel, for he would never be able to ask you now that you’re gone.

death is something the general mahamatra deals with almost on a daily basis.

it haunts him constantly; whenever cyno judges his targets with the scales of justice, he risks losing his life to the spirit that resides within him. not only that, there’s no denying the dangers that lurk just around the corner, ready to ambush him the moment he lets his guard down, given his position and the way he has to deal with criminals.

which is why whenever he has to do his duties, he always makes sure to kiss you goodbye and promises you that he’ll come back safely. to which you always reply with that lovely smile of yours and a cheerful “and i promise i’ll always be waiting for you back home!”

his dance with death is a neverending tahtib. one slight mistake could be fatal, yet cyno is anything but careless.

but what can the strongest and the most careful individual do against nature’s will?

his confident steps faltered when he received the briefing while the locals explained the situation as they walked towards the tent. several bodies had been found earlier in the day, and they suspected it was caused by the massive sandstorm that happened overnight. seeing as the victims were akademiya scholars, the villagers had asked for some people to help identify the bodies. conveniently, cyno and tighnari had been in the area, so they had volunteered to help.

the two slipped under the tent flap and the first thing cyno notices is the familiar shade of your hair.

as if he’s in a trance, his bare feet move instinctively. his heart rattles against his chest as he stops right by your side, ruby reds shaking horribly.

this has got to be a dream, right?

he dropped to his knees, uncaring of how the rough sand dug into his skin as he reaches out to trace the lacerations on your face; no doubt caused by all the sand. some of them are still stuck on your eyelashes too; and he prayed for them to flutter, to show some kind of movement, to quickly end this horrible nightmare he’s having in the middle of the day.

“cyno…”

his friend’s voice is soft and laden with sadness, as if the fox hybrid could feel the way his very soul is cracking at the edges. his calloused hands - the very same ones you used to pepper kisses upon kisses - clench around your sleeve.

“and i promise i’ll always be waiting for you back home!”

“you promised… you promised!!”

tighnari’s arms wrap around him, and he crumbles. the infamously stern and unwavering general mahamatra, broken and vulnerable, tears rapidly streaming down his bronze skin as he bit his lips until they bled to stifle the whimpers and sobs racking his body. he could barely hear his friend’s worried calls of his name. the arms around him felt suffocating and wrong because they weren’t yours.

he would never be able to feel that warm, floaty sensation from your hugs, ever again. you weren’t coming back. he will be stuck in this perpetual nightmare for as long as he lived.

“they promised….”

“……… i’m so sorry, cyno.”

as a puppet, wanderer is fortunate enough to not need many things that others find crucial to live with.

he does not need a name. after all the misdeeds he did, it felt wrong to desire such a human necessity. and yet you gave him a name nonetheless - a beautiful acknowledgment of his existence and a gift that ties you to him. they sound heavenly when the syllables fall from your lips, and he would never admit it but every time you call him that he could feel the desire to live up to your wishes behind such a precious benefaction.

he does not need love. he had craved it enough. groveled and begged for it enough at the start of his archon-made life. he tells himself he does not need the fickle emotion. not from his creator, and certainly not from a measly human who was too stubborn to let him be. still, you gave it to him with your bare hands, bit by bit, ever so patient and fleeting, with your honeyed whispers and gentlest touches upon his wooden skin. and oh, what a marvel it was, to bask in them.

he does not need to eat or drink. while he can taste and digest organic sustenances, his body didn’t exactly need them to function properly. his ‘mother’ could have taken his tastebuds and he was convinced he would not have minded… before he met you, that is. for how else was he going to taste your sweet lips and savor the intoxicating taste of your skin? and the way he just can’t seem to get enough, how he keeps starving for more, how he keeps having these funny feelings in his stomach - was it what the mortals call them “hunger pangs”? or perhaps it was something else? - whenever you are not by his side… you make him malfunction and he hates you for it.

he does not cry and he certainly does not need to cry.

so why are there liquids seeping down his polished cheeks and dropping onto your still hand?

“fix them.”

the small dendro archon returns his empty stare with a sympathetic frown. his jaw sets.

“fix them.”

he repeats, yet she remains unmoving; her green eyes flicking back down at your unmoving body.

“please.”

he does not breathe, but the pain in his voice and the cracks in his plea mimic that of a breathless, pained human.

nahida looks back at him, and then she steps forward.

something tugs within him. a little spark. a familiar sensation. one you frequently elicit from him, with your annoyingly endearing laughs and silly declarations of love.

the deity’s little hand places over your glazed eyes and closes them gently. then, she steps back.

the small spark fizzles and dies.

“not even us archons can bring back souls long since left for the afterlife into a dead body. this is the very law of nature itself,” she gives him a pained look, “you know of this.”

“…. please…”

“i know it hurts, little one. this too, proves that you’re no different than a hu-”

“THEN END ME ALREADY! LET ME PERISH!!”

for his heart has stopped beating, so why was he still alive?

“ayato.”

his name falls from your lips like the stars falling from the sky this rainy night. the downpour continues to make the ground muddy and the workers continuously struggle not to slip as they wrestle with the soil. it was not the ideal weather for this event and truthfully had he wanted he could probably order to stop the whole thing or use his vision to help with all the rainwater.

“i just feel like i needed to tell you.”

but the blue hydro gem merely hangs uselessly on his hip, along with the rest of his clothes, clinging uncomfortably onto his body. the umbrellas held by thoma hadn’t done their jobs properly, but the blonde housekeeper does not dare utter a word as the two siblings continued to stand side by side in silence, staring at one singular point.

“if, one day, you need to choose between the kamisato clan and me…”

to the elders in the family, it is a familiar sight. they could see it as if it was just yesterday. the same scene, the same setting - just a different place and with a younger version of the current lord and lady of the house. the girl had clung to her older brother, sniffling and choking back sobs, as the latter held her tightly, but with a sort of resolve that didn’t exactly fit his young visage.

just like last time, ayato watches silently as one of the most important people in his life is taken further and further away from him. as the wooden crest of the kamisato clan is eventually covered by the dirt. as his memory frays and his heart screams in pain and tears itself inside out behind his white robes.

as the pristine tomb with your epitaph marking your final resting place settles on its place.

his father.

his mother.

you.

all of whom should have been his family. all of whom he had sworn to protect and cherish.

“… i will not resent you for the choice you make.”

but [name], dearest, i will forever resent myself for the choice i made.

his vision never does shimmer as brilliantly as before from thereon.

#astronetwrk #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #rin writes #al haitham #cyno #wanderer #ayato #al haitham x reader #cyno x reader #wanderer x reader #ayato x reader

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terror-slut · 2 years

Note

11/10 will be patiently sitting and waiting for another chapter of “Change of Heart”. that man has me WHIPPED and the way you wrote him!? absolutely captivating. <33

Change of Heart

Chapter 02/?? click HERE for this fic’s masterlist!

Reader is a troubled pediatrician at Hawkins lab when she crosses paths with this lovely orderly. Nothing will stand between Peter and his revenge. Not even really pretty distractions.

Pairing: Peter Ballard x f!reader

Word count: 1403

Ratings & warnings: SPOILERS, period typical sexism, violence, blood, NSFW, swearing, no (Y/N). Ratings may change as chapters are being added.

A/N: bit of a backstory on the reader and more character building for these two <3 I also made a little playlist, check it out if you’d like. Also, I will be updating this fic bi-weekly!

Thick, visceral silence fills the hallway as they stare at one another. Him, all long limbs and easy going smiles, clad in the same uniform as always. Her, caught like a deer in headlights in nothing but a pastel nightgown.

“What? You’ve never seen a girl in a nightgown before?” Her tone is cold when she breaks the silence, but he can tell the pediatrician is nervous by the way she crosses her arms in front of her chest, and doesn’t dare to look the tall orderly straight in the eye.

“I have. Just not in here,” his reply has her roll her eyes in the back of her head, but Peter watches the slightest blush creep upon her cheeks. How amusing.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, doctor, but your shift ended hours ago.”

“Yes, it has,” she is purposefully being evasive, her walls are right back up and stronger than ever after Peter smothered her request earlier that day.

Certain that the door she opened for him prior remains ajar, he reminds himself that surrender is not something that comes to him naturally.

“And yet, you’re still here,” a soft smile graces his lips, signaling that there is no bad intent behind his questions, only curiosity. “Why?”

She sighs, taking in the lanky figure of the orderly in front of her. He towers over her, much taller than she herself is. His hands are folded neatly behind his back like always and despite her indecently dressed body and his fully dressed frame, he keeps a respectable distance between the two of them.

She’s never thought of him as anything but friendly, the way he greets her like clockwork despite her insistence on ignoring her coworkers. And although he shut down her request, she knows he cares for the kids at Hawkins lab. Peter Ballard might be the most trustworthy guy in the entire facility. Really, what’s the worst thing that could happen?

“If I tell you, can we get out of this hallway? There’s cameras everywhere and I don’t need my business discussed like it’s the morning news,” He nods, blond hair falling in sync with the incline of his head.

“I will follow your lead, doctor.”

And so, they arrive back at her office, though it looks more like a makeshift bedroom now. On the floor lies a sleeping pad meant for camping trips, and her uniform is neatly folded and placed on the chair where 015 was sitting earlier that day. On her desk stands an electric kettle and a few dishes, ready to be used.

Peter quietly watches as she puts a large cardigan on over her nightgown before facing him again. His arms are crossed in front of his chest now, and her desk supports his frame as he leans against it.

“Tea?” She’s stalling. He shakes his head.

“I’m more interested in you than I am in tea,” the corner of his mouth twitches up in a smile when she tries to hide her reddened cheeks for the second time that night. How easy she is to coax. “Don’t you have a loving husband to return home to? Why is it that you’re still here, when it’s nearly midnight?”

Eat. Sleep. Work. Reproduce. Die.

That comment seems to set her off, her face brewing up a storm.

“Please, don’t. That is the festering root of my all my problems,” she scoffs, walking over to the desk where Peter’s tall frame is leaning against.

“Your husband?”

A bitter laugh escapes her.

“I’m happily unmarried, Peter,” she explains, lifting herself up upon the desk. He scoots over to give her the space to sit without breaking eye contact.

“But ever since my mother passed, my father is hell bent on finding me a man,” now her guard is lowered, but her fingers are still anxiously tying themselves in knots, Peter notices.

“He wants me to marry a man who can provide for me. He was always against the whole med school thing, but my mother had my back. I graduated some time ago, and my mother passed away not long after,” she bites the inside of her cheek to keep from crying in front of him, afraid of what he might say or think of her.

“He’s old school. He believes women belong in the kitchen and going to university and having a job is just my rebellious phase until I settle down,” she scoffs.

“I would rather die, Peter,” the tone of her voice is so genuine that something deep inside his chest reacts to her words. His lungs seem to expand further against his ribcage and something warm and unfamiliar slashes aggressively, needy, at the base of his belly.

“I would rather die,” she repeats, “than live the life my mother lived. I’d prefer death over having my academic aspirations squashed because I’m busy cooking dinner for a husband who doesn’t see me as a person, raising kids I never wanted and cleaning up after them every single day. Even the idea makes me nauseous.”

“When I told him I wanted to specify in pediatrics, he laughed at me. He said my maternal instinct won after all. God, I was so angry I considered changing my mind.” the memory of it boils her blood all over again until Peter squeezes her clenched fist with his cool hand. He weaves his fingers through hers until her hand relaxes in his. Only then, he lets go.

“What happened today?” He asks.

“He arranged a date for me, tonight. Some desperate old fool who gets off on the thought of having a younger wife,” the tone of her voice is bitter, but he can detect something else in there.

Fear.

“I couldn’t go, Peter,” she says. He understands.

“My dad and I had a fight this morning, right before I left. He told me if I didn’t show up tonight, I shouldn’t bother coming home at all. Ever again,” a shakey sigh leaves her lips. “Dr. Brenner said it was okay for me to use the office, at least for tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll face my dad again. But right now, I just need some time to recharge.”

Eat. Sleep. Work. Reproduce? Live.

She softly bumps his shoulder with her own when he stays silent like he has for most of her rant. Worry settles in her bones.

“I’m sorry. I hope you don’t think badly of me, now. I don’t even think… I mean, I don’t know what I was thinking, really,” she carefully slides off the desk to create some space between herself and the orderly. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget I said… anything.”

“You shouldn’t worry about what I think,” her shoulders loosen a bit when the words leave his mouth.

“Or what anyone else thinks. But for what it’s worth, I think you’re a magnificent young woman,” he, too, takes a step away from the desk and towards her, overcome with the sudden urge to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Instead, he digs the heels of his shoes in the solid tiles of her office floor in an attempt to ground himself.

“You shouldn’t have to conform to anyone else’s idea of who you are,” his voice is so soft and his words nearly addictive. She could hear him speak for hours upon hours.

“You don’t think it’s selfish?” she asks, frowning in disbelief at his opinion on the matter.

“It is never selfish to choose yourself, doctor,” he cocks his head to the side and sends her the same comforting smile he gave her earlier, and this time, she smiles back.

“Thank you,” she says, while taking a step closer to him. The cardigan she had put on earlier is starting to slip off her shoulder, and she’s so close now that he can feel her breathing on his face. She smells like pomegranate and lemongrass and he wants to touch her now, find out if her skin is really as soft as it looks, if every part of her is as pretty as he imagines it to be.

“No need to thank me,” he says instead. The fabric of her cardigan is soft against his touch when he slips it back up her shoulder, covering her from his wandering gaze.

“My point still stands,” she then says.

“And what point is that?” he asks.

“You are a good guy, Peter.”

Taglist: @sunweee @ancientbeing10 @njutul

Lmk if you want to be added/removed to the tag list!

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dreamwritesimagines · 1 year

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okay dee, so many things to say idek where to start i’m just gonna stream of consciousness rn…

ahhh felix!!!! missed him and clover’s blooming (hehe) friendship <3 need him and andrew to kiss already, we all know they both want to smh. also has the ton not raised an eyebrow to the fact that bess and josie are always together and andrew doesn’t seem to mind?? 😭 that’s so funny to me, they’re so blind. or do they have like designated days/times where they make sure to be seen together and what not

i wonder if lady margery’s intentions are pure or if she’s got the hots for ben?? i think she’s actually being totally innocent, it’s not her fault she’s a hot widow like c’mon now (unless this is an aunt lavinia situation and she murdered her husband LMAO) i also could never see ben hurting clover in that way (cheating) like yeah he might unknowingly cross some lines (especially since clover is only now really beginning to open up to him and actually letting him know the details of her childhood/life before she was taken in by her aunt and uncle) but infidelity?? never, he literally worships the ground she walks on. and if a lady was ever getting too cozy with him he would most definitely put them in their place. like he was barely paying attention to lady margery in the first place 😭

also andrew saying “You were a scrawny little thing when I first met you, that glare doesn’t work on me.” made me CACKLE, would we ever get an extra scene on how josie n clover met andrew and how they discovered that they could have a mutually beneficial union?? idk how else word that 😭😭 also, did josie meet bess before or after she and andrew married?? is bess married??? i do think you’ve mentioned that but i cant remember:/

their little pinky truce, i cannot lie that did make me cry. such a sweet little detail.

CLOVER’S NIGHTMARES BEING ABOUT BEN- i think getting hit by a car would be less painful.

her wrist story :( the fact that she WANTED to maim herself so that she’d never be subjected to a marriage like her parents :( my heart breaks for clover every time we learn more about her backstory. the slowburn romance is fun n all but the real painful slowburn comes is clover’s backstory, i’m starving for more details, dee.

ben’s silent anger- ngl that was hot LMAO

but i absolutely cannot wait to see overprotective ben 🙈🙈

love clover’s whole trauma dump n leave the room thing, it’s so funny for no good reason 😭

also i wholeheartedly agree with what jansje1296 said, “i dont have to tell you to keep up the good work because you will do so anyways” like i could not have said it any better myself <333 gorgeous chapter, dee!! wish it was sunday again already :)

sincerely,

😈

help why is it so big 😭

OMG OMG DARLIIIING! ❤️

Stream of consciousness is amazing, I love it and I'm so excited! 😁🥰

Andrew and Felix are going to be such a cute coupleeee! 🥰 I love them together already and they haven't even started dating yet 😂

Andrew and Josie make sure to be seen together from time to time, and always throw in some comment about how they're happily married in any conversation so the ton definitely has zero idea about their arrangement 😁

Oh Lady Margery is definitely a hot widow😏 But you're absolutely right! Like, she for sure has a looot of admirers and any other person would probably fall in love with her but Benedict is so so in love with Clover that even when he's having a conversation with her, he still keeps an eye on Clover 🥰

Omg so I have so many ideas about this! ❤️ I actually feel like Josie and Bess met first, then Bess introduced her to Andrew ❤️ But I think Andrew was the one who brought up the idea of that marriage! ❤️

Bess used to be married but it was a verrrry short marriage, she married an old guy and he died very fast 😏

Clover is so worried about Benedict because she is so in love with him❤️

Her wrist story yessss😱 Both she and Josie have so much trauma!

Overprotective Ben is comiiiing 😏

Omg honey you are absolutely amazing and you've made my day, thank you so so much for this! ❤️ ILY! ❤️🥰

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floraltypes · 3 years

Note

lots of innocent and not so innocent touches

With Dwayne Pride if you wright for him if you don't just Gibbs please <3

who - leroy jethro gibbs x reader

an - i’m sorry! i haven’t seen ncis new orleans, so i probably couldn’t write dwayne very well … hope this is okay, for some reason i had trouble writing it :/

please continue to send in asks !!

unedited :/

Blankets surrounded your body, your leg ontop of another while light snores left your mouth. Hair was messed up and a hand was slowly moving to stroke your cheek. The curtains allowed peaks of the sunlight to peak through in your bedroom. A man lying beside you in his sweatpants and old tee.

The grey haired, older, man kept his eyes on your peacefully sleeping face, truly enjoying whatever dream you were imagining. He made no move to remove your leg from the top of his, but did make a move to place his fingers above your face, lightly pushing some stray baby hairs away.

A part of him silently cursed to himself, wishing that he had learned how to work his phone better, then being able to snap a photo of this calming moment for his own purposes.

Gibbs wouldn’t admit it to you, but these moments were more important to him than working on a boat, or the thrill after finally catching a bastard. There was something so domestic, so calming, with these times spent together. Time for him to think to himself, and also have the one he loves so much be so close.

Time to think about the past, and wonder how he got lucky enough for it to land here. Though, he may have lost a lot, and they would never be forgotten, he was grateful for another opportunity at pure happiness.

But his time to enjoy the peacefulness soon ended with a ring of a cellphone, causing you to stir a bit in your sleep. You eventually opened your eyes, staring up at the man who now had the hand that was formally on your face, resting on your chest.

“What’s that?” You questioned, trying to sit up and rub your eyes. “Can you get it?”

“It’s your cellphone,” He answered, missing the warmth of your leg, now having it be moved to lay on the mattress itself.

“Mmk,” You mumbled, reaching over to your side table and grabbing it. Flipping the screen up, you moved it to your ear. “L/n,” You tried to make your morning voice sound more as your own.

“If it isn’t little Y/n!” A cheerful voice spoke loudly on the other line. “Ya miss me?”

“No. What do you need?” You rolled your eyes, getting off of the bed, Gibbs eyes traveling your body as you walked to your dresser, picking out a outfit. “Mhm, okay,” You nodded to yourself. “I’ll be there, text me the address. Oh. Never mind then. Bye.”

Gibbs got out of the bed, going to stand beside you. He silently observed as you rolled your eyes once again, opening another drawer, he snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest, a small kiss on the inside of your neck.

“Who’s that?”

“A old coworker.” You opened your underwear drawer, picking a pair for the day.

“Purple,” Gibbs commented, as you dropped the blue pair back into the others, reaching for the one he chose.

“Gosh, it’s like we really are married,” You laughed to yourself, looking back at his straight face. “Sorry, you would know too much about that. But that’s not my point, there is a dead marine there and that means we’ve got work.”

“You didn’t seem to happy to hear from him,” Gibbs unwrapped his arms as you moved to your closet, picking out a dress shirt.

“I wasn’t. He’s annoying and almost cost me my job at the time. But, it’s our job, we have to go, so grab your clothes in the bottom drawers,” You turned around and pointed at the dresser that held some of his items, now finding what you needed and beginning to change.

———————-

“If you are all interested to know… I spent the morning watching a old TV show airing about a classic comedic couple who travels the world with their adopted son,” Tony announced to no one in particular, sitting at his desk as the others sat at theirs.

Ziva had her arms crossed, leaning back in her chair a bit. McGee sat in his, rubbing his eyes and looking down at his phone.

“What did you do this morning, McGee?” Ziva looked over to McGee, watching as his eyebrows furrowed.

“Trying to work on my new writing.. but for my character, uh, Miranda, I need a good backstory for her, people are really grasping onto her character from the former story. I’ve read some things saying they think she’ll get with Gibbs, I mean Libbs!”

“Interesting,” Ziva tsked. “I read the story and your Miranda character, who is obviously Y/n, and I don’t see it.”

“You know nothing about romance, Ziva,” Tony waltzed over, his own coffee in hand and his face near hers. “I think no one expects you to think about who would get together. But, no, I don’t see Gibbs getting with someone like L/n who is very, you know-”

“I’m what, DiNozzo?” You walked in, moving straight to your desk as you placed your bag down.

“Amazing! I meant, you’re so great that someone like Gib-” Tony looked at Ziva’s eyes widen. “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”

“Someone like me, now what’s that, DiNozzo?” Gibbs questioned.

“Uh-” Gibbs smacked the back of DiNozzos head, moving over to his own desk.

“Dead sailor, body is already getting examined by Ducky and some visitors are coming to drop off some of the evidence.” Gibbs informed everyone.

“They think this sailor had something to do with a past robbery and murder, a cold case,” You clarified.

“L/n!” A guy smiled widely, another girl following in pursuit behind him as he walked to you with his arms wide open. “It’s been too long,” He quickly hugged you, tightening his grip around your shoulders and moving his hands to cup your face. “You still look as beautiful as ever!”

“Y/n, is that your boyfriend?” Ziva inquired.

“He looks a little out of her leagu-” You shot DiNozzo a look. “Or not?”

“Ah no,” The man laughed. “Old coworkers, that is Lila and I’m Carson, nice to meet you guys.”

“If your old coworkers, you must have a ton of embarrassing stories about Y/n!” DiNozzo beamed, moving closer to Carson.

“Uh, a few,” He responded. “We only worked together for a year or two, some, but not a ton.”

“Some will do.”

“DiNozzo, we aren’t here to make friends we are here to solve a murder,” Gibbs shot him a look and hit the back of his head.

“Right, sorry, boss.” DiNozzo put his head down like a sad puppy dog and made his way back to his desk. The two visitors looked at the scene that had just happened oddly.

“We brought all of our evidence, not much, but something,” Lila announced, placing the box on the table now and taking some of it out. “Should we get started?”

“I’ll show you to Abby, she is our forensic analysts and will probably want to take a look at this stuff for herself,” McGee told Lila, putting the evidence back in the box and letting her grab it, soon walking towards the elevator.

“You think I could check out the body?” Carson asked you. “It might be good to see what he looked like more and talk with your doctor.”

“That makes sense, I’ll show you to him,” You smiled at your old coworker and took another way to Ducky’s area.

The both of you chatted on the way down, catching up with how things differ since you worked there and a bit about your new workplace here.

“I really thought you would be Jeremy, the one who called me. I was a bit worried,” You laughed, walking into Autopsy with Carson as Ducky moved near you.

“Hello, dear, who’s this?” Ducky questioned, Jimmy moved near his boss.

“Hey, Ducky, this is Carson. Carson, this is Doctor Mallard. He is a old coworker of mine, Ducky,” You told the older man. “That’s Jimmy, he is Ducky’s assistant.”

Ducky began to explain how the man had died, pointing out various things on the body and even putting in a few past experiences of his own into the conversation.

Soon the four of you had heard the doors open, turning around to catch the view of your boyfriend entering into the room and moving to stand right in between you and Carson.

“I just want to hear some of the explanation myself, you can continue, Ducky,” Gibbs commented, all of your eyes turning back onto Ducky who was back to talking.

You felt a warm, larger hand travel to the middle of your back, a thumb softly pressing into the fabric that covered your skin. You turned your head slightly to make eye contact with Gibbs, but he just continued to stare forward ignoring it.

It was like a goosebump went up your spine, yet it wasn’t not encouraged. It was a bit of a energetic feeling, so you rejoiced in the innocent touch, a sign he was there.

Eventually, Ducky was done with his long explanation and you were back to heading upstairs with Carson and Gibbs to do more research regarding the deadman and cold case.

“So, Y/n, I was thinking we could go out to lunch or something soon to really catch up, outside of work,” Carson mentioned while you three were on the elevator ride up.

You were surprised at his somewhat boldness to announce this in front of your boss (and boyfriend), but he was always a very open person, kind and open.

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” You replied.

“We are busy most afternoons.” Gibbs added. “So, if you plan it at some ridiculous time don’t expect my agent to be able to make it.”

The doors soon chimed open and Carson quickly left, making a bee line straight to Lila. Gibbs let you leave first, placing another palm against your back to secretly lead you back to where the desks were, even though you knew where you were going.

———————

The rest of the day was spent with much more working diligently. You all had made some progress but not enough, and you could tell it was really getting to Gibbs. He dismissed everyone and told them to come back in the early hours in the morning.

Gibbs had told you that he was going to stay and work on this some more, so you told him you would stay as well and order some food. Once Carson had heard that, he decided that he would do the same.

A hour later, three burgers arrive and you hand them out to the two other men, soon taking a bite into yours. A bit of the condiment had spewed onto the corners of your mouth, but your hunger caught up with you, continuing to avoid the feeling for a moment and just eat.

Carson caught the look of your messiness, breaking off into a small laugh, and you joining, him then making a joke about how this used to be a regular for you. Gibbs got up from his seat with a napkin and bent over a bit to wipe it away from your mouth.

It was certainly a small gesture, but had caught you and Carson off guard, the both of you quieting. You just stared back at him while he continued to eat with a pride grin on his lips, looking over the papers.

It seemed like a blessing from the sky when Gibbs had finally connected the pieces. Everyone was called back in to look over what he found and to excite a plan on how to continue. You all were able to get the murderer into custody and with old evidence and Ducky’s help you were able to identify he was the killer. With Abby’s help you were able to put him at the scene where your old coworkers cold case took place.

It was a relieving feeling that the case was solved and over. It was easy to tell that your current coworkers were also happy with the fact that your old ones were leaving for good. Having unfamiliar people in a familiar place is always a weird feeling for everyone.

You watched as everyone packed up their things to head home from the tiring few days of work. Standing up, you grabbed your bag and moved to Gibbs desk, chatting with him until Carson came over.

“It was nice working with you again,” He commented, you turned around to face him.

“It was. We make a good team.”

“We really do. I was wondering about that, uh, date?”

“Hm,” That had slipped your mind, and almost did once more when you felt a brush of a hand against your bottom, turning around to make eyes at your boyfriend. “Sorry, I actually have a boyfriend. But if you mean the lunch date to catch up, then I’d love to.”

“The second one,” He nodded, his cheeks brightening a bit at the dejection but also confirmation.

“Great,” You grinned, writing down your phone number and handing it to him. “Talk soon, bye.”

“Goodbye.”

You watched as Carson entered the elevator and soon disappeared, the office area looking very empty with the lights darkened a bit and only you and Gibbs being in the area.

“Glad he’s gone,” Gibbs laughed.

“I figured,” You laughed alongside with him. “I could tell by your touchiness at work, are you trying to let everyone know?”

“If I was, I would do something bolder. Didn’t Ducky ever tell you I used to be like DiNozzo?”

“Yeah, that would be a interesting time to see.”

“I think if I was that same man, we might’ve had sex right o-”

“Let’s get home, now,” You both soon left the workplace, hand in hand, laughing along at stories of the younger Gibbs and his flirty persona.

#gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs #leroy x reader #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #ncis fanfiction #ncis fic #ncis x reader #ncis #ncis reader insert #gibbs x y/n #gibbs x you #gibbs #anthony dinozzo #ducky mallard #abby sciuto #timothy mcgee #ziva david #jimmy palmer

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thefanficmonster · 4 years

Text

Lucky Me (Sequel To Unlucky)

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff

Summary: You aren’t always born with luck. Sometimes, you meet people who bring it to you. In short, they are your lucky charm.

Requested: Yes, but not in a typical way. A big thank you to all the wonderful people who read, liked, reblogged and commented on part one - Unlucky.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @itsminniekat @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 and many more ❤❤❤

They are the reason this story is being written. What was originally supposed to be an elaborate one-shot turned into the most liked piece I’ve ever written. I can’t thank you enough, guys. You are amazing and I hope you like this one just as much or even more than the previous. Love you ❤❤❤

Y/N’s POV

I’m grinning at my reflection in the mirror as I put on a pair of earrings. My face is already touched-up with a little make-up and my hair is looking on point. I can almost see my own reflection in the shine of excitement in my eyes. I take in my upper body via a quick once-over in the full body mirror opposite me, and I finally relax my muscles that I didn’t ever realize I was tensing.

“OK, now I’m ready.“ I say as a form of encouragement as I reach behind me for my phone that’s sitting on my bed.

You might be wondering where I’m going? Who I’m going with? What’s the occasion behind this many preparations and pampering?

The answer: Nowhere. No one. Nothing. I’m literally not even going to leave my house.

It might seem ridiculous to someone else, but to me, to my hypnotized mind, it’s perfectly reasonable to be getting so amped up over a FaceTime call. Yeah, you heard me correctly - a FaceTime call.

Well, you see, this isn’t the first time we FaceTime, but it will be the first time we’ll see each other’s faces. I wanted to level the field so I didn’t let him on to what I look like, where exactly I live, etc. Basically, he only knows my name, which I am still prepared to call unfair, considering I don’t know his real name.

A brief backstory to my first ever real interaction with Corpse: I was introduced to him by my friends. They are the ones I always turned to with all the scary shit happening in my life. Often times they didn’t know weather to comfort me or laugh at my curse. My friends suggested I start sharing it to a youtuber named Corpse Husband. You see, I love YouTube narrators and I’ve always been a fan of Mr. Nightmare and I, to be perfectly honest, always kept the idea of sending him my stories in the back of my mind. Nevertheless, I bit the bullet and checked out on of this Corpse Husband guy’s videos. And then another. And another. And before I knew it I was having a marathon after which I was too paranoid to get online, walk home alone at night, leave my curtains open etc. It wasn’t all thanks to the stories themselves. A lot of the fear factor these stories strike with should be credited to the way they are read. Let me tell you, this guy had it all figured out with the reading. Not sending him my stories would just be wrong. So I did, I sent him my first ever creepy encounter which was with a stalker from my high school and it took me only two days to forget about it. It only crossed my mind when my friends blew my phone up, demanding I watched Corpse’s new video. I kid you not, I got more scared by the story when he read it than when I lived it. That’s what settled it for me - I decided to send him each and every story.

And then one day, out of the blue, my life changed for the better in more ways than one. It got turned completely upside down, like a rollercoaster, and I just had to hold on and enjoy the ride, embrace the adrenaline rush and excitement, knowing full well that I chose to get on and there’s no way I can get off halfway through.

I’m being too metaphorical. He sent me an email. He freaking reached out to me. And I was posed with a rough choice. Took me a minute, but I chose to reply to him, I chose to trust him, and I couldn’t just leave him on read one day simply cause I chickened out. Yes, I’m unlucky and these things don’t happen to unlucky people. I mean, they do, but they are nightmares disguised as a dream come true. I’ve lived all my life cautiously: if something sounds too good to be true it’s either not as good as marketed or not true at all. If it’s dark and late and there are no people around, FaceTime someone. If your Uber driver’s sketchy, cancel the ride. I take all the precautions and I still find myself in the worst situations. Or at least...

My thoughts are interrupted by the ringing of my phone. A simple ringtone I hear every time he calls me. A simple sound that causes me butterflies when I hear it and ultimate devastation if the caller ID doesn’t read the name I want. It always gets me excited, probably more than it should. This time is different, however. It’s scary almost. I’m nervous, anxious, scared, hesitant - all things I never feel when I’m about to answer his call.

With shaky hands I pick up the call and find myself looking at the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. Now I know why I would have never initiated this meeting, because I know what color my face is right now. I know my voice has let me down before I even attempt to speak. I know I look like a mess. I know my obvious crush is showing.

Corpse initiated this meeting. He said he was getting too curious and he wanted one of his best friends to see him and for him to finally see her. It’s been about seven months since we first started texting and I haven’t let out a single peep about it to a single soul. It’s just between him and I. We are each other’s safe space away from the rest of the world.

“Thought you weren’t gonna pick up for a second there.“ His voice is not as confident as other times when we’ve talked. His trying to hide his own nervousness and all I wanna do is hug him and tell him he doesn’t have to. I kept telling him over and over again that we don’t have to do this if he’s not sure that he actually wants it. I even offered to show him what I look like, not expecting to see him in return but he declined, saying it was now his turn to even the field.

“I was in another room.“ I manage to say, my voice only shaking a little.

We spend a few moments just looking at each other. Admiring one another. For someone who prefers digital interaction, I am surprised to realize I wish he was actually standing in front of. I wish I could hug him. A long hug of comfort, mutual understanding and hidden feelings.

He lets out a short laugh, shaking his head which causes a few strands of hair to fall over his eyepatch, “I’m sorry...It’s just-...Fuck I’m stumbling.” He chuckles nervously, “I just...can’t believe you are real. You are a real person. And the most beautiful person I’ve seen. That’s corny, isn’t it.” He looks away from the screen, his face now a shade of red. “But I mean it. I’m embracing my corniness. You are beautiful, Y/N. Not that I’m flexing or anything, but I’m lucky to have met you.”

I laugh, feeling my eyes stinging from the tears that have suddenly formed. I don’t want to let them fall, but I don’t have much say in that. “Well, mister Corpse, I can’t begin to compare. I mean...that hair! I still cannot believe it’s you. You are not just a deep voice in my mind. You are....you are...”

“Everything you imagined and more?“ he jokes, making my whole body heat up. “I told you you could trust. I mean, if the hair doesn’t confirm I’m who I say I am, I don’t know what will.”

“Actually, I never tried to imagine what you looked like. I knew those visions...I knew they didn’t matter. Faces don’t matter to us, Corpse. I think you realize that.“

And just like that, all I’ve been keeping hidden is pouring out. I don’t try to stop it - you can’t stop a hurricane with bare hands.

“I never needed a face to imagine us. I always saw as talking on the phone, playing Among Us. Reading scary stories to each other on Discord. I never needed a face to imagine your company. To imagine what we could be...“ I trail off, letting the first tear slip down my cheek.

The most sincere look appears in his eyes, “Fuck, I wish I could hold your hand right now. Never mind, I wish I could hug you, Y/N. Hug you and not let go for a long time.”

I laugh halfheartedly, my chest burning from the intensity of this moment’s intimacy, “I can always tell you where I live.” I’m only half-joking. I really want to see him in real life, not just through a screen, but even this call is out of his comfort zone, let alone a physical meet up.

He surprises me yet again, “Saturday. I’ll bring the take out, you pick the movie.” he says with a smile that is literally saying ‘you didn’t see that coming, did you?’

“How are you sure I don’t live in a different state, or a different continent all together?“ I tease, making an attempt to put my composure back together.

He smirks, “I pay way more attention to your stories than you’d think.” I laugh, shaking my head as a pointless method of fighting the pesky tears that he has 100% noticed by this point. “By the way, just because we’re....” he thinks for a second, “in a weird zone between friendship and...something more, doesn’t mean you have to stop sending me stories. I absolutely love reading them for my audience. They love em too.”

I just realized I am yet to tell him the crazy miracle that has happened. “Well, the thing is...I don’t have any.” His eyebrows shoot up in shock which makes me laugh, “Yeah, I know, it’s crazy. Since the day we started talking I have not experienced a single scary thing. Deadass. I swear on my life.”

If I wasn’t so head over heels for this man already, the baffled expression on his face would definitely send me falling for him. He’s just that adorable. “Wow.”

“I know right.“ I nod, “Seems to me you have enough luck to share with me.“

His eyes light up at that comment, showing just how meaning full it is to him.

“You’re my lucky charm, Corpse.“

“I will never be more proud of any other title, Y/N. That I can promise you with no hesitation.“

“Deadass?“

“Deadass.“

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gogolucky13 · 4 years

Text

Safe

Summary: Bucky is out for a late night walk when you’re in need of saving.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 942

Warnings: Suggestion of a stalker, sort of. Fluff.

A/N: This is for the @the-ss-horniest-book-club drunk drabbles. Prompt is below. Hope you like! 😊💜

The streets are mostly quiet, not uncommon for this time of night. Flickering street lamps guide his path, headlights from passing cars cause his eyes to squint just a little. With his hands stuffed into the pockets of his bomber jacket, Bucky stops at a crosswalk, looking left then right before making his way down another block.

The route is familiar, one he’s walked countless times when sleep doesn’t come easy and he needs to reset his mind. Small puddles from the day’s rain keeps his attention, reflecting the bright neon signs of the corner shops and stores. When he comes to another crosswalk, he waits a few minutes longer for the light to change, and that’s when he hears it.

“Hey!”

A voice calls with an undertone of slight panic that has his senses on high alert.

“Hey!” It calls again and Bucky snaps his head in the direction of the calling.

He spots you on the other side of the street, one arm waving at…him? The heaving of your chest is visible as you stop to quickly look both ways before crossing the street, disregarding the color of the streetlights.

“There you are!” You say when you’re halfway through the intersection. Your pace picks up and you’re throwing desperate arms around Bucky’s broad shoulders.

Caught off-guard by this strange encounter, he stumbles back, ignorant to anything else around. When you pull away, you’re looking over your shoulder and move to stand behind his tall figure.

“Is everything alright?” Bucky questions, attempting to look down at the person who seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He hasn’t gotten a good look at you just yet, but your presence is one of familiarity.

You’re quiet, your eyes wide in resolute as you stare at the other side of the street. Your body language gives off the indication you’re waiting for something, or someone, and Bucky is following your line of sight.

“Are you looking for someone?”

“Huh?” You respond, brow furrowing and eyes finally looking to your savior. “Oh, sorry,” you breathe, stepping away from Bucky. “I thought…there was someone following me. I was walking home from a friend’s and there was…this guy…” Worried eyes continuously flit to the other side of the street as you speak. “But I think I might’ve scared him off when I called out for you.”

Bucky listens and watches you intently, and then it registers.

“Hey, don’t we live in the same complex?” He asks with a crinkled brow. “You live in the apartment above me, right?”

“Yeah,” you breathe through a chuckle. “Yeah, we do. I recognized you from across the street and took a chance you’d be okay with me…y’know.” You risk another quick glance past Bucky.

He turns to where you look again, and waits for someone to creep out of the shadows but nothing happens.

“Well, I think your plan worked,” Bucky smiles.

A beat passes between the neighbors, until an idea strikes him.

“Would you be interested in grabbing a coffee with me? I know it’s late, but—“ “Yes,” you say, “a coffee sounds great.”

Bucky gestures for you to head in the direction of a small diner he knows. A spot he’s found himself at on occasion during a night like this. Silently sitting and sipping at a coffee while watching the other patrons, getting lost in their interactions and possible backstories.

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” you introduce, sticking a hand out for Bucky to shake.

“Bucky,” he responds, taking your hand and it’s difficult for him to ignore the tiny bolt of electricity he feels shoot up his arm.

At the diner, Bucky can see the obvious change in your demeanor. Calm, content, and dare he say flirty even.

“I can’t believe we’ve lived a floor apart for what—almost a year now? And I’m just learning your name is Bucky?” The words bubble out in a giggle, and you attempt to hide your smirk behind your coffee mug.

Cheeks reddening, Bucky is uncomfortable in the best way possible at your remarks. “Yeah, I tend to just keep to myself usually.”

“Well, we should change that.” You don’t try to hide this smirk and he’s sure it warms him more than the coffee.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” he responds almost sheepishly. He looks to his coffee, then back up to you because there’s just something tickling his thoughts. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Did you really recognize me from across the street? When you called out the first time?”

Nibbling on the inside of your cheek and fiddling with the napkin on your lap, you take a moment before responding.

“Honestly, no,” you answer quietly, “I didn’t know it was you until I was halfway across the street, but you just looked like someone I would be safe with.” There’s a small shrug of your shoulder, and you meet Bucky’s gaze with a hint of innocence and vulnerability reflecting in the colored specks of your eyes.

Shifting in his seat, Bucky clears the emotion from his throat, because this beautiful woman across from him thought she was safe with him? The idea is preposterous. Tall and looming with a daunting look in his eye that doesn’t grant any welcoming smiles or nods of acknowledgement when he walks down the street. He was safe?

A touch to his hand breaks his thoughts as the jolt of electricity brings his eyes back to yours.

“Thank you,” you say, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, “for saving me.”

Bucky gives you a small smile of appreciation, because he’s sure you’re the one that’s saving him.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #hbc drunk drabbles

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littlesimps · 3 years

Note

AYO ITS ME I FIGURED IT OUT AND I FIGURED THE ANONYMOUS THING OUT TOO LMAOOOOOO

So, first of all foolish but like obviously you need some backstory SO maybe the reader and foolish could be friends yaknow and like they do friend things and they could yaknow have a moment

BRUahHsjjjdjsjz

Your wish is my command. (:

<Warning> A little Angst

>Oneshot<

FoolishG x Fem! Reader

“Scared to lose you”

Third POV

As usual, war goes on, betrayals happen, and people simply minding their own business and trying to step down or just joining in on it all.

(Y/n) didn’t pick any sides, the one thing she last thing she wanted to deal with is death and it’s blaming. She knew if she ever got caught up in the middle of it, she’ll get strikes hard with pain. Mentally or Physically. Now, (Y/n) may seem alone if she doesn’t join into the war and such. But, she does have a certain friend she always visits every now and then. Which is Foolish himself, a person who’s a Totem of Undying. Being friends with the god for the past few years, before they both even joined the Dream Smp lands.

Walking down to the desert Foolish lived in, she started pondering in her thoughts.

'Wonder how he’s been doing..' (Y/n) stares at the ground ahead of her, thoughts wondering from one thing to another. He’s been a bit annoyed lately, due to Bad and his so called “Eggpire” coming after Foolish about some egg. She’s glad that Foolish was alright and she, herself avoided Bad after hearing about him acting odd for some time. Something about red vines spreading and the egg. It worried her a little, but she shrugged it off and wandered her thought to another thought. 'He’s been acting upset lately after what Bad said something to him..' (Y/n) recalled back to Foolish explaining what happened after she came to visit Foolish when Bad and his group left. She knew Foolish was gonna have to talk to her about it instead of just not talking about it.

Snapping back into reality, (Y/n) spots the familiar god on one of his knees, rummaging through his chest.

He wore his usual white shirt, and white pants tied with a rope to keep his pants up. His golden skin shining a little in the sun as it was littered with dark spots from him also being part shark. Foolish cheeks were littered with more dark spots to over the bride of his nose. His brown hair hidden under a shark hood (Y/n) made for him, giving it as a gift for being given a stack of enderpearls she needed by him one time.

(Y/n) soon stops admiring him once Foolish turns his head towards her, standing up and walking over to her in his smaller form.

“(Y/n)! It’s great to see you again.” Foolish smiled, but the joy that was coming from his mouth never reached his eyes. (Y/n) frowned for a split second before grinning up at the man.

“I’d say the same thing to you too, Foolish.” (Y/n) chuckled, putting her hands on both her hips.

“So, what brings you here?” Foolish questioned, tilting his head a little to the side. The corner of (Y/n) mouth twitched upwards a bit more before it stopped once she remember what she was gonna talk to him about. Not wanting to ruin the mood so quick, she offers him for a walk, in which he accepts without hesitation.

Both of the two walk around, passing old buildings and new buildings that were created by their friends. Few were destroyed big or small, others were rebuilt much better or just the same.

The duo fell into a calm silence, walking on the prime path.

(Y/n) couldn’t help their thoughts wonder, their (e/c), eye’s lowering to where it was pointed to the ground.

She was enjoy this, yet, confusion stirred in her.

She kept noticing Foolish eyes staring down at her for a few times, brushing his hand against hers, and that his large shark tail swayed a bit more faster than usual since the start of the walk.

“(Y/n)?” Foolish voice comes into her ears, waking her up from her confused little thoughts running around her head.

She hums, looking up at Foolish.

He halts, sitting down under the bride and near the water. (Y/n) complies when Foolish pats the ground next to him, sitting down and crossing her legs.

“I know you want to talk to something with me, (Y/n)..” Foolish grin falls down, a small frown taking over his golden face as he looks at (Y/n). (Y/n) stayed silent for a bit, sighing after a minute or two.

She knew that she wasn’t good at hiding certain things from Foolish.

“I’ve noticed that you’ve been upset lately, after what happened between you and Bad.” (Y/n) answers, fiddling with her fingers as she gazes at the water before her. Foolish noted that she always did this whenever she was nervous.

Foolish scooted a little closer to her, watching her relax a little.

“I wanted to ask..” (Y/n) trailed off into a mumble, making Foolish frown dampen a little more. “Wanted to ask what?” He asked, raising a brow just a tad bit as he tilts his head at the woman sat next to him. A sigh draws from (Y/n) mouth before she fully repeats. “I wanted to ask what did Bad also say that made you upset lately?” (Y/n) turns her head to Foolish, making eye contact with his emerald, colored, eyes.

Foolish goes stiff, remembering back to what Bad said to him.

“I..” He tries to utter out his explanation, except Foolish throat felt like a lump was stuck in it as he started to feel emotional. Foolish breaks away from (Y/n) gaze, his eyes being planted to the ground beneath the two of you.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Foolish let’s it out quick, changing on what he was gonna say.

Standing up, he starts walking away without a goodbye. Although, (Y/n) wasn’t gonna let him off that easily. Quickly getting rising from the ground, she jogs over to Foolish and stops in front of him, keeping him from walking any further away. “(Y/n)—” He was instantly cut off by the said person. “Foolish. I understand that you don’t wanna talk about it, but it’s gonna get harder if you don’t tell me.” (Y/n) brows knit together, knowing this could’ve happened sense it was normal for him to sometimes try to shrug it off and avoid talking about things he’s upset about. “(Y/n)..you don’t need to know what Bad said. It’s none of your concern.” Foolish glares down at (Y/n), getting annoyed each second that pasts.

“It is my concern. I care about you, Foolish. You mean so much to me and I hate having to see you upset about something for a bit. So please..just let it out to me.” (Y/n) opens her arms to him, awaiting for the golden man to step into her arms and allow her to caress him, afraid to hurt him.

And so did Foolish did, taking a few steps forward and falling into (Y/n) arms. Trying to keep the tears in that pricked his eyes.

Foolish knew he couldn’t keep all his sadness away from her, she saw right through him like how he saw right through her. That’s what he loved about (Y/n). Foolish loves everything about her. He would do anything for her, no matter what. Heck, he would even die for her.

It made him happy that she was here for him.

“Bad..he—he said he was gonna hurt you...if I don’t join them. A-And I got scared, angered, and so many more at the thought of that.” Foolish voice cracked, giving up on keeping the salty tears in and allowing them to roll down his cheeks and onto (Y/n) shoulder.

“I’m scared to lose you...”

She rubbed his back, tangling her other hand in his brunette hair.

He sniffs, his arms tightening a little more around her waist. Wanting to feel closer to her than he already is. His thoughts now walking off to thoughts of her. Thoughts of (Y/n). The woman who’s been friends with him for years, the one he’s started loving for the past few months. The woman who’s always comforting him when he needs it.

Before he knew it, his mouth let out the words he’s always wanted to say to her ever since then.

“I love you, (Y/n)..”

(Y/n) hands stop moving, her body going tense. Foolish immediately realizes his mistake, hastily removing his head from her shoulder. “I-I didn’t—I’m so sorry—I don’t what I was thinking-” Foolish was cut short by a hand gently caressing his tear stained cheek. Slowly, he moves his emerald eyes over to (Y/n).

His body relaxes once he sees soft eyes staring at him, unreadable to know what (Y/n) eyes were showing besides them looking so kind and comforting.

Subconsciously, he leans his head into her hand. His hand leaving his side to caress (Y/n) hand.

“Foolish, don’t be sorry. It’s alright. Everything will be okay..and I love you, too.” (Y/n) beams up at Foolish, making him melt on the inside. He felt his cheeks heat up, he rubs his face into (Y/n) hand. Giving a small peck into her palm. Moving his head out of her hand after a moment of silence, he brings his other hand out, only using it to hold (Y/n) cheek. Foolish leans to her face, pausing to ask for permission. A small chuckle occurs from (Y/n), earning a nod as his only answer. He smiles before making his lips come in contact with hers.

A god being a mortals friend, to having a crush on her, and lastly..to becoming the person she’ll love always.

Hhhhhh man was it a little confusing to try and imagine how this should go, but this went pretty good then I expected tbh. Hope you enjoyed this by the way, dear friend!

#mcyt x you #dream smp x you #foolish x reader #mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader

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gojology · 3 years

Text

Coffee With Extra Sugar.

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | Whew! I finished this after 1 hour and holy crap this is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written, I hope you like it. I’m literally sweating. 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Gojo Satoru x Teacher Fem! Reader 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 2,314 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | None! 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | Gojo Satoru, the man who didn’t ever get rejected, got rejected by you. Unknowingly having a teensy tiny (or maybe not) crush on him, Nobara gets you to go on a coffee date with Gojo. Through the jumble of mixed feelings, you accept, and find yourself in a position you never thought you’d be in. One-shot. Often times, you found yourself enjoying a nice cup of coffee with extra sugar after teaching the exceptionally unusual teens that Gojo had forced onto you. One was unlike any other, Sukuna’s vessel. Even with the threat of death looming over his head, he was one of the happiest teens you knew. Bouncing around, reminiscent of Gojo in a way. The most remarkable thing about him though, were the eyelids below his very own. Marking Sukuna’s existence on the boy’s body. The other boy, named Fushiguro, had a troubled backstory. His father was the only one to have a complete lack of cursed energy. Maybe that was why he was always brooding, he always seemed to be off in his own land. As for the only female, she was your favorite student. Nobara was albeit, a bit cuckoo, but that’s what you loved her for. Outside of the educational setting, she made an amazing shopping buddy and had an endless bucket list of things to do in Tokyo. Headstrong, stubborn. Happily willing to give you any sort of advice in men, even though she didn’t seem to show a particular interest in them. You told her all about the weird stuff that Gojo would do around you, and she always said that he might have a thing for you, but you never believed it until now. The latest event had been when you were lounging in one of the spare rooms at Tokyo Jujutsu High, drinking another cup of coffee after the extreme levels of stress and torture that was training the trio. Gojo had casually strolled in, loudly announcing himself as he slid the door roughly shut. “Oh (Y/N)! I was looking all over for you!” “Really? I wasn’t. Leave me alone, I’m not talking to someone who calls himself a teacher and then dumps a buttload of crazy teens onto me.” you calmly replied, sticking out a pinky whilst sipping your coffee. Although you found your eyes to be glued onto Satoru. He dramatically stuck a hand onto his chest, leaning backward just a little as if he had been told he shouldn’t have ever been born. “Me?! Oh no, I wasn’t dumping the kids onto you sugar. I’m a busy guy, being the strongest sorcerer and all.” he gloated, grinning a little. You grunted before pulling out your phone. “Pay attention to me, why don’t you?” he muttered softly, digging his hands into his back pockets. Did you hear that right? Clearing his throat, he loudly sat down next to you, even though there was another chair on the other side of the table. Crossing his legs, he began to speak. “So, (Y/N), I felt really bad for dumping the kids onto you, and I thought, hey! Why don’t I take you out for a meal or two? You know we don’t really know each other out of work and I’ve been meaning to talk to you more-” “No.” “Why not?” combing his hair with his hands, he almost looked sad, but you knew where it was going to go. You had seen Gojo date girls for 2 weeks and break up with them after. It’d be weird to date a co-worker for an astounding total of 2 weeks and then immediately get broken up with afterwards. Besides, he was probably horny and hadn’t found a girl willing enough to talk to him back, even despite a face and body that looked like it was sculpted by the Gods. “I know what you do with girls, just fuck with them, not looking for that.” You scrolled through the article you were reading, something about some 11 year old child getting their cancer removed miraculously, probably a super nice jujutsu sorcerer. The silence grew between you two, Gojo’s eye shifting to you when you weren’t looking, and your eyes shifting to him when he wasn’t looking. You almost wished you were a bit friendlier. “Right.” he mumbled to himself, before getting up and walking to the door. You felt something bad growing inside of you. Looking back at you one last time, he shut the door. “I’m telling you, (Y/N), Gojo-Sensei was trying to ask you out, ARE YOU THAT DENSE?” snapped Nobara, who was busily lecturing you about how you had seriously fucked up. “I didn’t know!” you whined, “I thought he was just being stupidly friendly! It didn’t cross my mind!” “Gosh, woman, men aren’t hard to work. Gojo is 100 times easier, hand him a box of candies and he’ll probably whip out a ring. All you had to say was yes!” “...What if I didn’t want to say yes?” you shot back. “Hah, shut up, I’ve heard the way you’ve described that man, acted as if he descended down from heaven” You definitely didn’t have a crush on him, but you did let your mind wander sometimes, in some indecent areas sure, but wasn’t that true for everyone? “Okay, and what do you want me to do now? Want me to just.. Go talk to him and ask for the chance back? That’s embarrassing, and as I said, I don’t have a thing for him.” “I’ll snag that chance back for you, but you seriously owe me one. I’ll even get Fushiguro and Yuuji on board, but they’re almost always doing stupid stuff and I have to convince them with the weirdest shit to get them to cooperate.” “Nobara, no cursing first of all, there was no reason to, plus I don’t NEED the date, why are you even-” “Oh shut up.” The next day, you found yourself urgently rushed to a coffee shop by a poorly disguised Nobara, Yuuji, and a less then willing Fushiguro. You scanned the shop, the scent of coffee so strong it wafted out of the interior. Gleaming windows with, “Kento and Coffee Inc.” proudly painted on the window. Wearing a white t-shirt and a long trench coat, with a long plaid skirt, you found yourself self-conscious. Were you too overdressed? Nobara had told you that you were supposed to dress in a cute “dark academia” (whatever the heck that is, she showed you a few pictures of it online though.) style of fashion. “Don’t worry! Just follow whatever I said earlier, I’m an amazing Cupid and I just know there’s something between you two! I’ll be in the corner, watching you guys, just don’t mess up!” Nobara chirped, handing you a red scarf to borrow from her closet. You hastily threw it on, taking a deep breath in and breathing out. Trying to casually stroll into the coffee shop. There Gojo sat, casually dressed in a black t-shirt. A pair of circular black shades perched on his nose, lazily eating a cake pop. Your heart skipped a beat, even though he probably didn’t even try with the outfit he wore, you still found him absurdly attractive. He jumped up, “Oh fuck, I thought everyone ghosted me.” he looked at you, tilting his head slightly as if he was confused. “I thought Yuuji and the crew were gonna be here too. Didn’t ever show though, do you know what happened to them?” “O-Oh, um, yeah, I think I heard that Yuuji and Nobara got distracted and was going to some newly opened sushi restaurant instead. Fushiguro didn’t wanna thirdwheel or something like that.” You swore you saw him smile slightly. “So it’s just you, and me?” You looked around, hoping to God that Yuuji would pop up and tell the world about his love for Jennifer Lawrence. “It would.. Appear so.” He clasped his hands together, beckoning at the cashier at front. “I’ll go get some coffee for us, any idea what you want yet?” “Uh, just coffee with extra sugar.” “Gotcha.” You found yourself staring at his hands, playing with the hem of his pocket as he walked up to the small line. His fingers were impossibly long, and you couldn’t help but realize how veiny and large his hands were. Snapping yourself out of your daze, you grumbled, taking the trench coat off, it had suddenly gotten hot. Pulling out your phone, you pretended to read, but in actuality you found yourself ogling his impossibly tall body, and how undeniably hot his voice was. It was alright to find him attractive right? Sure, you hated a lot about him, like, like... Well, you couldn’t think of anything off the top of your head right now. But you for sure knew you hated him. Yuuji snickered, “Gojo’s girlfriend is getting flustered, look at her cheeks.” He giggled, pointing at you. Fushiguro slapped Yuuji’s pointed hand down, hissing at him, “You’re going to fuck over this operation. Didn’t your mom ever tell you to NOT point?” “I don’t even have a-” “SHHHHHHH!” Nobara shushed them, gesturing to Gojo now walking over to the table where you were sitting. He slid the chair out and sat down, grunting as he did. He looked down at you. “So, anything new with the kids?” You gulped, a warmth flooding to your cheeks, the way he looked at you made you feel weird, and you couldn’t find yourself to make a cheeky remark. “U-Uh, um, no, uh, Fushi-, I meant Yuuji, he’s doing as good as usual... And uh, Nobara’s doing pretty good too! Fushiguro’s just... Uh, you know, haha” you giggled nervously, “acting as normal.” He laughed, “That’s Fushiguro, guy doesn’t even crack a smile. Yuuji’s a special one isn’t he? No idea how he acts all cheerful even though he knows he’s gonna, you know.” “Guy doesn’t deserve it.” “I know.” you pursed your lips, not wanting to talk about such a serious topic. Seemingly noticing your discomfort, he turned his head over to the cashier who was now loudly shouting, “Order 132! Order 132! Two regular coffees with extra sugar, 2 donuts, 4 cake pops, and a slice of cake!” “That’s our order~, what good timing!” Gojo sang, immediately springing up to fetch the coffee and the absurd amount of sweets Gojo had ordered. “Gojo-Sensei sure does have a sweet tooth.” Yuuji pointed out, looking at Gojo casually walking back and handing you your coffee. “Yuuji, did you seriously just notice that?” “Yes. Why? Do you look at Gojo-Sensei eat? You’re really weird Fushiguro.” Fushiguro let out a sigh, and Nobara giggled, but now all their attention was focused at the pair, drinking their coffee. “So, uh, any idea why the kids invited us here?” he said, playing with his strikingly white hair. Your stomach did backflips, it looked so soft. Wait, fuck, why were you even thinking these things?

“Uh, yeah, something about.. Um,” FUCK. You were supposed to say you didn’t know. “Something about... Putting us on a... Blind date?” You mumbled sheepishly, Nobara crumpled on the table, murmuring about how stupid you were. Shit, fucking shit, you weren’t supposed to be honest.

“Really now?” Gojo inquired, lifting an eyebrow and putting his arm on the table, leaning his face onto his hand. He took a bite out of his donut. Now your face was really burning, why were you acting so strange? Could it be true? You had a crush on Gojo Satoru? At first, you wanted to reject it, but the feeling settled in. It made more sense to you then not having a crush on Satoru. The feeling of regret when he tried asking you out, the many times where you found yourself ogling when he was naked, the amount of dreams you had about him. You really did have a crush on him, huh? You stammered, a rush of self-confidence flooding into you, “Fuck it.” you breathily mumbled, “I like you, Satoru.” The doubt settled in as soon as Gojo looked at you, wide eyed, mouth slightly agape. Nobara was even shocked herself, she had never seen you as headstrong as this. Fushiguro and Yuuji were in an intense discussion about their preference in women, well, more like Yuuji, Fushiguro was ignoring him, looking at the wall instead of the surprising twist in the date. “You like me, (Y/N)?” “Fuck, yeah, yeah I do.” you looked at his shades, oh how you wish you could see his eyes right now. A slow grin spread across his face. “I like you too, (Y/N).”

Nobara, now quietly cheering and shaking Itadori and Fushiguro gesturing to you two, chewed them out for not seeing the events building up to the climax.

“Really?”

“Yes, really, sugar.”

Everything felt unreal, you had never thought you would find yourself in this position ever, was this a dream? You tried pinching yourself.

He snickered, “No (Y/N), this isn’t a dream. I really do like you.” he rubbed the back of his neck, readjusting his crooked shades. “I would even say I’ve liked you for a while.”

It had never dawned on you that he wasn’t being flirtatious just to be flirtatious, he was actually actively trying to

get you.

“I can’t wait to tell the kids this.” he grinned to you, smiling widely. “Fuck, this feels like a dream to me too. I didn’t think you actually showed any interest in me.”

You couldn’t even be cheeky back, you were in a state of euphoria.

“Actually sensei.” you turned to look who was talking, Yuuji was excitingly bouncing up and down. Fushiguro looked like he wanted to be launched off a roof. “We set up the blind date.” Nobara smiled, looking at the pair. “You know, I’ve always seen the romance and chemistry between you two, and you guys finally worked it out like adults!”

Why did you get the feeling that she was mocking you too? Regardless, you had walked into the coffee shop single, and you walked out with the guy who had stolen your heart for years now, without you even realizing. All thanks to Nobara.

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starlit-dreaming · 2 years

Text

[20] in the back of my mind

Fandom: WMMAP Rating: G Ship: Eventual Lucathy, Felily, Calena, and more Note: the Twin Sibling AU that i tried so hard not to write, but i DID, so naturally i have to call myself out for writing it. will be cross-posted on ao3 and wattpad under the same title

A/N: I made a mistake in earlier chapters regarding the ages. To fix this, I'm making the clarification that Ferdinand is 8 y/o while Charlotte's 9-10 y/o. I'll make the proper edits when I'm able to.

This chapter's a bonus of being almost 4k words as opposed to my usual 3k. I highly recommend reading this fic on ao3 instead of on Tumblr (under the same title and username) because the formatting's always a pain to deal with and doesn't accurately reflect how I want the story to be read.

Also, I'm thinking of making character profiles for everyone. I'll be posting them on my Tumblr, and there will be a spoiler and spoiler-free version of the profiles (information including sexuality, names of love interests, backstory on their history in "Toska", and whether or not they will end up in a romantic relationship with Athanase at one point (as in, actually having a courtship, but no mentions of being his endgame))

The spoiler-free version will simply say if the character has appeared yet, which chapter they show up in or will be expected to appear in (which isn’t very accurate as it varies on how the story progresses during the writing process), and basic information like their full name and age.

Granted, this will take a long time for me to even get started on, even if I don’t draw the characters (I’m thinking of maybe commissioning someone if I get too lazy to draw).

——————————

Arc 1: Beginning of the End 0 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Arc 2: Of Princes and Villainesses 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | [20] | 21 | 22

Side Story: maybe, i’m afraid (verena/athanasios) 1 | 2

Summary:

He was pretty sure he transmigrated into a fanfic of [The Lovely Princess] — after all, he would’ve remembered if Princess Athanasia had a younger twin who died.

// A retelling of WMMAP with a vital difference — Athanasia has a younger twin brother.

——————————

20. no one believes in me except for you

——————————

Of all the people that had to be standing in on a personal conversation between Athan and Ver—Autumn, it just had to be Felix. If it was anyone else, Athan was confident that they'd be able to sell it as an inside joke with Autumn that helps him calm down from his overactive imagination, that it was just childish nonsense.

But Felix took part in being his caretaker for the past two years, and for him to be reliant on Autumn would be pretty suspicious. Autumn only entered his life a few months ago, and that wouldn't have been enough time for her to know how to help him in such a panicked state.

Granted, they could explain that it was a side effect from her saving him, but that sounds like a bad case of dependence.

If Athan didn't do anything, Felix might even suspect Autumn of manipulating him.

After all, it was suspicious that a little girl was capable of saving him from suffering the same way as his sister despite the fact that he was far away from the castle with his whereabouts unknown for hours. Even if Lucas was the one who did it, Autumn was considered his saviour.

He glances over to Autumn, who remains seated in a chair at his bedside. She was adamant in keeping her gaze down, and he knew better than anyone that her mind was racing with possible ideas.

A quick glance around the room was more than enough to know that it was only the three of them in the room and no one else. This place was vaguely familiar, and yet he knows that he's never seen this room before—

Wait, this room...

(It was very... bright, he thought with an inward grimace, gaze drawn to the windows that stretched from the ceiling to the floor, with its pink curtains drawn back with careless regard. Everything was very colourful, when he glances out the window and catches sight of the swaying field of flowers and the fluttering grass.)

He remembered parts of his dream with startling clarity, recalling the figure of a young maiden hidden by the white gauze curtains with blurred determination. The windows reached from nearly the top to bottom like his dream, but the curtains were a pale orange like the colour of a zinnia flower — a delicate flow and a gentle sight. It wasn't pink like his dream, and he didn't see any gaudy and overbearing sight of flowers...

("Truly, your [brother] indeed cares about your wellbeing, but there is a limit to his naïvety and wilful ignorance," he dryly comments, taking slow strides over to the armchair at the girl's bedside.

It was cold, as if no one had dared to sit and keep the bedridden lady company.)

And yet he was absolutely certain that this was the same room. A gaudy armchair was in the room, at the bedside and currently used by Autumn.

This was a room that was meant to be long forgotten.

...but for whom?

("For the day I [part] from this world, you will never truly forget me — you cannot, nor will I ever let you—")

"Where are we?"

The question brings a strange sort of dawning realization that he can't quite place, as if it were a word on the tip of his tongue. It was an inkling of who the maiden was — a young noble he must've met at the garden party his father hosted.

A lot of ladies approached his older sister while the opposite was true for himself, but only a small handful of girls had spoken to him directly from what he could remember. He couldn't think of anyone else.

They were also the only notable girls that the Original Athanasios interacted with.

Autumn, Charlotte "Lottie" Milford, and Irene "Iris" Nightingale.

So that was the question, really.

Between the three, who was the girl in his most recent memory?

Maybe it was because he noticed his impatience, Felix had answered promptly, "We arrived at Marquess Milford's Estate."

Really? It couldn't be that easy, could it? Charlotte was the girl he promised his love to? Well, it didn't seem too farfetched, did it? With Verena and Charlotte being against one another, it must've been an easy decision to be made once the Original Verena started showing her true colours. Charlotte had been the only girl who was willing to outright oppose her. Maybe the OG prince fell in love with Lottie's fierce personality?

It was very... strange how the memory of someone he once knew affected him like this.

(But then... what about Ijekiel?)

Felix was frowning, with his eyes slightly narrowed at Autumn just in a mere glance as he calmly and respectfully spoke to Athanase. "It was the closest place for Your Highness to rest after collapsing."

Ah, right...

It'd be nice if Felix would just accept that Autumn wasn't up to anything suspicious, but that would probably be a bit much, wouldn't it?

With how he kept shifting hesitant yet wary glances at Autumn, he definitely wasn't going to drop it...

And to make it worse, Athan collapsed.

. . .

Why the fuck did he even collapse in the first place?

"It's a relief that Your Highness, the Crown Prince, has woken up," Autumn stated in a gentle tone of voice, closing her eyes as she tilted her head low in a small bow as a sign of respect. 'You probably remembered something, but I really didn't think that this whole temporary amnesia trope would be this dramatic,' if she was frustrated by the inconvenience, she didn't let it show as she remained still with closed eyes. 'If anyone was supposed to get smacked dab with a temp amnesia trope, it would've been Ferdie for the divergence of surviving the Hunting Comp...'

'Well damn, thanks for the easy explanation, author,' he blinked, jewelled blue eyes staring at Felix. 'Autumn?'

'Yeah?'

'How much trust would you place in Felix?'

'Unless I became a supporter of former Emperor Anastasius, I trust him with my life. A full twelve on a scale of ten on being both trustworthy and hot. Trust-hottie, if you will. Duke Robain is a DILF, so naturally his son is also S-rank. I haven't worked out my tier lists for S, double S, and triple S-rank, but I'd say the Duke's a triple while His Majesty is a solo 'cause child neglect ain't sexy, and Sir Felix being a double S because he stepped up to the plate of being a caretaker when he didn't have to.'

And it was then that Athan deeply regretted his decision in asking Autumn for her opinion. It didn't matter that her confirming Felix's trustworthiness — among other things — was the solution to solving a landslide of their problems.

Like, really. How difficult is it for Autumn to stop bringing up DILFs when he never even asked about it to begin with?

'Why do you ask?' Autumn finally looked at him, a frown on her lips as she stared at him.

What aren't you telling me? That was the question written on Autumn's face as sharp blue eyes looked at him.

His hands trembled, clutching the bedsheets. He thought of the young maiden — er, well, Charlotte, he supposes — and how she sat still as though she were a corpse. It didn't help that her hands were cold, and she had pale skin, but he couldn't shake that image away from his mind. The feeling of her knuckles, her fingers, and the warmth she sapped from him still remained.

That was real, he knows this without a shred of doubt. While he knows nothing of what happened to lead up to that interaction, nor does he know the aftermath, but it was very clear what had happened.

She was dying from an incurable illness, and he could only sit by her side, keeping her company until the day she died.

He wasn't sure how he was going to save Charlotte.

'I'm gonna tell him.'

Autumn never mentioned anything about Charlotte dying, either. Maybe he was wrong about the maiden being Charlotte? What if the dying maiden was an adopted daughter — maybe even an illegitimate daughter? Wait, that was crazy talk. Was he actually accusing Marquess Milford of infidelity when he loathed his birth father for the same reason?

Still, even though he was pretty damn confident that it might've been Charlotte at this point, there just wasn't any guarantee.

So... maybe Felix would be able to help give him a little more room to work with.

'Hold the fuck up — you're gonna tell him that I think he's a trust-hottie?!'

Athan ignored his friend's moment ruining panicked thoughts and looked at Felix dead in the eyes:

"This isn't my first life."

Silence immediately followed after the statement was made. His heart pounds, his stomach churns — he feels... he feels nauseous, to say the least.

Everything felt... unpleasant.

("Well, maybe he should've kept his mouth shut," she grumbles.

He laughs, "You think so, too?"

. . .

He gets the impression that she smiles at him, and his cheeks burn and his heart flutters.

'Oh,' he thinks. 'Oh.')

Autumn was — well, she wasn't angry or horrified, but he heard absolutely nothing from her. She was frozen in place, dark pale — purple? No, it was definitely blue — eyes staring at him in stunned silence. Her lips paled, an indication that she was biting her bottom lip as her eyes anxiously flicker to Felix.

He could feel that the reveal to Felix had left her unsettled and upset.

(Or maybe it was him projecting onto her.)

Honestly, he understood her view of confiding in somebody else. There wasn't any reason for her to think that Felix would trust them. Hilise Inoaden from The Solitary Lady was a prime example of being considered a lunatic when she confided in her family regarding her time loops, and frankly that wasn't what he wanted as an end result. Unlike Hilise, Felix genuinely cared about him. On top of that, even though Athanase didn't necessarily want to die, but rather, he wanted to live comfortably and content.

In order for Felix to believe his words, he needed undeniable proof to show that he wasn't crazy.

And that proof was the existence of Jennette de Alger Obelia.

He opens his mouth, intent on saying her name, only to lose his voice as the image of the original Athanasia flashes through his mind, face red with tears staining a wretched face. It was an unsettling image, an older version of when Athy had cried when she woke up for a few minutes during her brush against death a few weeks back.

("I'm your daughter too, father.")

No, he couldn't. If he introduced Jennette, then wouldn't everything worsen? After all, that would only mean that he and his sister would be more likely to die early. Maybe Countess Rosalia would even try to frame him or his sister for poisoning Jennette before they're fifteen...

Everything was already changing, but Athan wasn't ready for that sort of problem in particular. Jennette entering their lives early would only alter the chain of events.

That would ruin everything and he knows it.

"I don't actually want to be at the Arlantan Hunting Competition. Frankly, it sounds like more trouble than it's worth to even go, even if I think learning how to wield a sword is pretty cool. You can dismiss it as a child's overactive imagination, or just me overthinking things, but I want to prevent a war between Arlanta and Obelia."

Felix stared at him with wide eyes. He was dumbfounded and speechless, which wasn't very surprising. How does anyone react when a little kid tells them that a war was going to happen?

'What are you doing?' He wasn't sure how, but Autumn managed to maintain a blank facial expression. 'He's never going to believe that.'

"Marquess Milford's true history, from living as a commoner to the actual reasons for the deaths of his sisters," he states. Felix jolts upon hearing that, his eyes snapping back to Athan. "The Countess Nightingale and the purpose of her family and the role they play for the imperial family despite providing nothing more than ambiance music. I even know the truth of why His Majesty's engagement to Lady Penelope Judith, the younger sister of Countess Rosalia Judith, was broken off."

Athan could tell that just from three sentences, Felix was unsettled by the fact that he knew more information about the things that no longer mattered to noble society or was the best kept secret within the imperial court. There was no way for Athan to know, and under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have known.

But, Athan had reread those 12 chapters Autumn had written for Toska countless times. Over and over again, to the point that he memorized the sequence of events and even remembered the names of side characters — including the ones mentioned only one time and the chapters they were brought up in.

He read the character sheets, the additional background, the side stories that had no direct involvement with the canon characters.

So Athan knew more than enough to convince him.

"Let's speak of Marquess Milford, as his story is less personal to the two of us. He grew up as a commoner until the deaths of his parents, in which his birth father had decided to lie and cover up the truth of his parentage in order to officially give him the Milford Family Name. He was never meant to inherit the noble title, as he had an older sister who was executed for angering the former tyrannical Emperor. It was an informal setting, given that he had killed her during a ball in the hallways. She had worn a dress and was unarmed, but if she fought back in any way, she would've been given a charge for treason and therefore get everyone in her family executed."

Nobody was supposed to know how the eldest of the Milfords had actually died. It was covered up as an assassination attempt against the former Emperor, and the former Milford Heiress had gotten caught in the crossfire...

Except, the youngest Milford had been a witness to the murder of her sister. She saw her sister die and was left traumatized.

(Like Ferdie, the youngest Milford, witnessing the death of Autumn's parents.

And just like his aunt, he lived to tell of it...

Not for long, of course.)

"So, the former Heiress was murdered, and the younger sister saw enough to be traumatized in the end, but she told her family before she died. It's the only reason why you and father trust Marquess Milford more than Countess Nightingale. You both ensured his loyalty by getting rid of the former Emperor."

Felix's mouth remained shut, his eyes trained on Athan with a sense of seriousness that he's never seen before in either lifetimes, and that included all the posts tagged with "Lovely Princess Felix" — not a single piece of fanart of a handsome and serious man.

Nevertheless, it was clear that Felix didn't know what to say, or perhaps he didn't know where to start.

Should he have started from the beginning? Or perhaps he should've given Felix some time to digest the information...

But if he didn't do things like this, then Felix would've dismissed it as a child repeating the things that he's heard before. After all, Marquess Milford's history could easily be found out by asking the right questions to the right people.

Would Countess Nightingale's history be enough to prove his words?

"How did Marquess Milford's younger sister die?"

That was the only thing Felix had asked for.

If he answered this wrong, Felix might assume that someone with a grudge against the Marquess had spilled all of this information.

But fortunately for him, he knew the answer.

"People say she killed herself," he tells him without missing a beat. "In actuality, she screamed the supposed "accusations" at one of the nobles' meetings, barging in there in place of her brother who had to leave for the Arlantan Hunting Competition as his family regularly attended as one of Obelia's Diplomats. She was thrown into a jail cell until the Marquess returned and was deemed to be mad from the grief of her sister's death. The family was pardoned, and she was found dead by hanging, but the Marquess believed that it was the former Emperor's scheme of painting his sister as crazy."

If anything, Felix didn't seem to be reassured by his answer.

"I believe you, Your Highness."

"You do?" Autumn blurts out, gasping out a squeak as she covers her mouth with her hand as if she had yet to say anything. "I beg your pardon, Sir Felix, but is it true?"

Felix nodded, frowning. "Everyone in noble society now thinks that Lady Lizbeth killed herself due to grief of Lady Ariella's death and was unable to bear with the knowledge that nobody believed her. While he isn't happy, Marquess Milford is happy that his younger sister is no longer considered a shame to the family name and that she's no longer seen as a madwoman. Seeing how close His Highness, Prince Athanasios, is with Marquess Milford, I'd imagine that it's possible they would have an honest conversation about such a thing years from now, given that it's still a sensitive topic for him."

Huh. That really was convenient. Well, it is a story that came to life, so it was only natural for the world to fill in the gaps.

Still, Felix believed that pretty easily...

Not that he's complaining.

"Father doesn't know, of course," he shifts, awkwardly adding to the conversation. "Autumn remembers too, and she would know more than me because she lived longer than me."

'Don't throw me under the bus!' she screeched in his mind. "You give me too much credit, Your Highness. I didn't live for nearly as long as you believe," Autumn shook her head, giving him a pointed stare. The switch between her mind and actuality were as jarring as ever. 'Verena died in the same year as Athanasios. Usually execution, other times suicide.'

"...Autumn?" Felix looked at Autumn curiously.

"Shit," he thought. 'Was that supposed to be a secret?'

"Well shit," Autumn sighed. 'I wanted to keep that a secret.'

Out of everything he's heard tonight, hearing two "children" swear had startled Felix the most.

——————————

Since he successfully convinced Felix, they were free to speak more openly around him. Of course, they had to wait until they returned to the castle since they would be staying at the estate for a few days until he regained his strength — Athan also didn't want a repeat of someone overhearing a conversation between him and Autumn, especially when he wasn't in his right mind...

Even though it would be better to share the information with Autumn, his dream was very personal.

("If this love is a curse, then I would gladly be scorned and burned in hell.")

Recalling his own words, he knew he had lived that very moment. He had felt anguish for his dying lover that it had brought him to physical tears when he awoke. He felt warmth in his heart, a fluttering warmth when she smiled just for him and him alone.

Athan knew a love between friends, a love so strong that they were family. He knew of a toxic love between two romantic partners — he's seen and read of it, he's lived through it even if he remembers nothing.

But he's never been in love, he was sure of it until now.

Love, he learns, is both a beautiful and ugly thing. It's painfully heart wrenching, it's rough around the edges, and it's filled with complications. But it's also delightful elation, it's easier to fall than expected, and it's... it's simple.

Athanase was in love with this girl at one point in his life, and now he's left with vague memories. It was as simple as that.

But why? Wasn't he curious? How did they fall in love? What made him fall to begin with?

("Would you leave me... if you saw the real me?"

. . .

"I don't know.")

He doesn't want to know.

(Oh, but he does.)

——————————

"Autumn was really surprised that you believed me," he admits into the quiet of the guest room, with Felix sitting in the armchair at his side. It was just the two of them this time. "She didn't think anyone else would — apart from her — and that's only because we both lived the same experience."

Felix stared at him for a moment, his gaze softening as his frown became more neutral. It wasn't quite a smile, but it could've been.

"You're not the type to lie for no reason, Your Highness," Felix stated. "And it does explain the close relationship Your Highness has with Lady Verena — Autumn. A lot of nobles believed that you are both infatuated with one another."

Athan immediately wrinkled his nose at the thought. "She's like a sister to me."

Felix hadn't responded to that right away, as if he were contemplating on whether or not he ought to say something.

"Pardon my asking, but when did Lady Autumn regain her... memories?"

"On the day of my collapse."

"I see..."

"We were both engaged and she wasn't a Saintess. Father didn't care about my sister and I, so he let us do as we pleased as long as we didn't bother him. From what I can remember, Lady Verena's love became a form of obsession which worsened our relationship. Now that we both... remember the past, that will no longer be an issue. She had a somewhat poor relationship with our peers in the past. It's why she wants to be called Autumn, and why she wants to show me that she's not the same person she used to be."

"Is that so?" Felix frowned. "That's... a bit concerning, Your Highness."

"I know, but Lady Verena is no longer the same person she once was," Athan stated. "After losing me, Autumn's trying to atone for the past."

It wasn't the most inaccurate lie he's ever said. Autumn was distraught and regretful after he died, and even now he could see traces of how desperate she wanted him to confide in her. Clearly, she thinks that it was her fault for not being there for him when he died, and so explains the reason why she's trying to make up for it.

"Does Her Highness, your sister, know about this?" Felix hesitated.

"Partially," he shook his head. "She knows about me, but not about Lady Verena."

"That certainly explains a bit. Perhaps you should talk to Crown Princess Athanasia? It seems that she doesn't wish to speak to Lady Autumn at all..."

"I can't force them to get along," he shook his head. "And she avoids me left and right for no good reason."

Felix is silent for a long moment, his face pale as if a horrid thought had come to mind.

"Please reconsider."

"What?" Athanase blinked, looking at Felix.

"Your Highness, please reconsider mending your relationship with Her Highness."

"Why are you suddenly insistent on this?" Athan blinked.

"I don't want history to repeat itself," Felix quietly stated. "Especially with Emperor Claude and Lady Diana's children."

'Oh,' he thinks. 'Oh.'

Felix didn't want a repeat of Anastasius and Claude.

Maybe that was the possible reason why Athanase died in Toska? He doesn't know how he died in his first life. Maybe Athanasia was the catalyst.

He had mixed feelings about that thought, in all honesty.

Maybe he'll talk to Autumn first...

#fic: in the back of my mind #wmmap #who made me a princess #wynter writes

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 3 years

Note

Can I request a Thomas (tmr) x f!reader soulmate au maybe where he comes up to the glade after she’s been there for a while with her name on his wrist. And that brings back her memories of him? Thank you!!

Of course, sweet Anon! 😊 I don't usually like AU, but I actually do like the soulmate trope lol. Also, this took too long, I know. I've been so unmotivated and I have no idea why and I still have like 4 more imagines to do hahahahahaaa......ugh

Aaaanyway...*cough cough* this is...what it is. I have this disease, called "backstoryinitis" where I add too much backstory to an imagine, so, uh, sorry?

~~~~~~~~~~

Wiping a bead of sweat off your brow, you stopped hoeing the ground when you heard the loud alarm that rang every month.

Another month, another Greenie...

You'd lived in the Glade for a couple years now, so you were used to new kids coming up in what everyone called the Box every month. It's really the only way you could keep track of how long you were stuck in this place.

Every month, you wondered if there was going to be someone like you sent up; a female. Being the only girl in a group of dozens of boys, it got lonely. Of course you had friends, but it just wasn't the same to you. And what was even weirder, you had a tattoo on your wrist, a name.

At first, when you came up in the Box without your memories, you actually thought it was your name, until you remembered your actual name.

Looking at your wrist every day and night, you tried to comb your brain for any sliver of memory that could answer your hundreds of questions that you had. Why was this name on your wrist, and who was this person? You hoped you'd find out, one day.

You ran alongside your friend to the Box, Chuck. Well, more like closest person you considered a younger brother. He very well could've been for all you knew, but he was just one of over fifty other boys that could've been a relative. But you always called Chuck "baby brother," not that he enjoyed that nickname, in public at least. He did get teased a bit by the other guys if you called him that within earshot, so you eased up on the name a bit. But you couldn't help that protective sister side of you when you thought Chuck was getting too close to the Box when it still hadn't come up all the way.

You looked around at all the excited faces of the other boys, anxious to see the new Greenie, anxious to hassle him more like.

You always tried to be nice to Greenies, remembering how poorly you were treated when you arrived in the Glade a couple years ago. No one would really take you seriously because you were a girl. You didn't even get a job assigned to you until a few months later, of course besides the stereotypical doing the laundry and helping Frypan in the kitchen, until you almost burned down the whole shack. Turns out, you were a terrible cook. Fry still teases you about it from time to time.

Eventually, you gained everyone's trust, even Gally's, that kid definitely took some convincing though. You thought he hated you if you were being honest, but in time, you saw through your anger and understood why. Some mysterious girl just shows up with a name tattooed on her wrist when nobody else did? It probably would've freaked you out too. Thankfully, everyone stopped asking you about it when you didn't even know yourself.

You winced softly when a dull pain shot up your hand, the ink in your wrist started to itch. Huh, it's never itched before? You tried to think nothing of it when the Box finally came up all the way, Gally reaching down and opening up the hatch doors.

Everyone peered over the sides of the heavy metal doors, trying to get a good look at the new Greenie. Of course, it was another male, cowering in the corner in terror like so many other boy you've seen. An odd feeling washing over you, like nostalgia but mixed with an almost sense of overwhelming joy. The feeling was so all consuming that you didn't even notice the new Greenie taking off in a dead sprint until all your fellow Gladers started to whoop and holler, obviously finding the Greenie's fear amusing, the boy faceplanting only adding to their boisterous laughter.

You rolled your eyes, mumbling to yourself, "The dude's just scared."

Of course, the Greenie being terrified out of his mind didn't stop the Keepers from deciding to keep him in the pit until he calmed down, a sentiment you did not share. Newt chuckled, gaining your attention quickly. "What're you laughing at?" You asked.

"Nothing, just adorable how you feel for the Greenies."

"Oh, shuck you."

"Why so defensive?"

"I am not." You pouted, crossing your arms. "It's not like he's the only one that's totally freaked out on the first day. He shouldn't be locked up in the pit."

"That is true, but you know it's for everyone's safety, including his." He said, walking away.

"Yeah, yeah..." You sighed, uncrossing your arms and choosing to lean against the hoe that you were holding, eyes completely focused on Alby and the new Greenie. To say you were curious would've been an understatement.

It was strange, you usually didn't have such a peaked interest in Greenies like this before. You felt yourself drawn to him, for some unknown reason. And another thing that was strange, your wrist tattoo had been tingling ever since he came up in the Box, but you just wrote that up as a coincidence. There was no way it could be correlated...right?

"Y/n!"

You turned to Alby, quickly making his way to you with almost angry expression on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Do you know the Greenie?" He asked, his expression not changing.

You furrowed your brows, a nervous chuckle escaping your lips. "Of course not, why would I?"

"Your name is on his wrist."

You froze, your confusion clearly etched on your face. "W-What?"

"You really don't know him? If your name is on his wrist, then I think it's pretty safe to assume that the name on your wrist is his."

"No, that's...impossible. I..." You were at a loss for words, how could this be happening? All this time, you just thought, maybe you had a partner before your memories got wiped and got their name tattooed; but now, you had no idea the hell was going on.

"The Greenie also claimed he didn't know where the tattoo came from, or who the name belonged to."

"You didn't tell him...about me?"

"No, not yet. I wanna keep this under wraps until we figure out what the shuck is happening here."

"But Alby, everyone knows about my tattoo, if someone sees his-"

"He's wearing a long sleeve. If he knows what's good for him he'll listen to me when I told him to cover it." Alby sighs, hardening his expression once more. "I swear, Y/n, if you know something about this-"

"I don't." You assured, you were just as confused as he was.

"The bonfire tonight will be a good opportunity to talk to the Greenie, everyone'll be too drunk to notice."

"Alby, you still trust me, right?"

"That remains to be seen."

The anxiety that you felt the rest of the day finally bubbled to the surface when the bonfire party started. You pretty much avoided the Greenie all day. You didn't know if you had any reason to be scared, but so many fears plagued your mind. So many "what ifs." But were sure nothing would be worse than having to wait to find out.

Looking over to see the Greenie and Newt sitting together away from the bonfire, Alby gave you a look, stern but not stern enough for you to feel threatened, although you still felt nervous.

Slowly walking over to the Greenie, you kept telling yourself over and over that this is the moment you've been waiting for ever since you were sent to the Glade, the moment you found out if this boy was the one who's name was permanently engraved onto your skin. You could finally have some sort of closure, maybe not complete, but just knowing would be enough.

You nervously cleared your throat, both boys looking your way as you stood above them. "Hey, Newt." You quickly started, "thought I'd introduce myself to the Greenie." You gave Newt a look that told him to leave the two of you alone.

Newt chuckled. "Right, of course. I think I'm gonna get myself another drink." And off he went, leaving you and the Greenie in an awkward silence, but more of an anxious silence on your part.

"Sorry I haven't introduced myself yet, been a busy day." You forced a smile, taking a seat next to the Greenie.

"Do you guys throw parties like this every time a new...Greenie shows up?" The boy asked, a slight bitter tone to his voice.

"Yeah, pretty much. We only really started this tradition a year ago, we thought we might as well celebrate another month of surviving here, also welcoming the newbies."

"Yeah, well, doesn't really feel like a warm welcome, despite the bonfire." You chuckled. "Are you...? Uh, never mind."

"No, what?"

"Well, just looking around, you seem to be the only girl here. Why is that?"

You shrugged. "Beats me. I came here just like everybody else, no memories. I wish I knew. Speaking of, have you remembered your name yet?"

The Greenie frowned. "No." He whispered, suddenly rubbing his sleeve covered wrist.

"What's wrong?" You asked, noticing his discomfort.

He sighed. "Uh, nothing. My wrist just hurts a little, might've sprained it or somethin'."

This was taking too long, and the bonfire party was starting to die down. It would be over soon, you had to speed this up.

"Alby told me..." You started, nervously taking a deep breath before continuing, "about your wrist."

The Greenie looked to you with wide eyes. "He told me to keep quiet about it, why would he tell you?"

"Because...the name on your wrist is mine."

He furrowed his brows, his mouth slightly agape, rolling up his sleeve slightly, just enough to see the top of the outline of your name. "Wait, really? How is that...?"

"I don't know. But I'm guessing," You rolled up your own sleeve, "this is your name?"

You held up your wrist, the light from the bonfire illuminating the ink enough for the Greenie to read what it said, "Thomas." Thomas' confused face mirrored your own, both of you feeling a strange mix of emotions all at once. He reached out, you flinching away slightly. "Can I?" He asked.

You nodded curtly, extending out your wrist for him to hold.

As soon as his skin made contact with yours, you felt a spark of electricity rush through your whole body, so intense that it made you jolt with a quiet gasp. Thomas seemed to have felt the same, his grip on your wrist tightening as he felt the same rush.

You suddenly felt like you were hit in the head with a brick, sharp flashes of images of you, but not in the Glade. These were different, you saw yourself smiling, laughing, with an older woman, smile lines and subtle wrinkles around her eyes, tuffs of greyish white hair scattered about in random spots amongst her lush natural colored hair. You instantly teared up...this was your mother...you remembered your mother.

"I remember." You and Thomas said at the exact same time.

"My name is Thomas." He confirmed, tears welling up in his golden brown eyes, giving them a shine. "I remember everything, my family, my friends, why I came here..."

"I remember my life before here too. I was...taken. They took me away from my mama." You quickly felt a surge of anger rush through you. "W.C.K.D. They did this."

Thomas sighed. "I know..." He took hold of both your hands. "I remember you too, Y/n." A slight rosy blush spreading across his cheeks.

"Me too." You said softly.

You both had worked at W.C.K.D. together, you both had the same distain for the company and wanting to take them down together, both of you being betrayed and sent here. You knew it was dangerous for W.C.K.D. to send you both to the same Maze trial, how could they make such a stupid mistake.

"We have to get everyone out of here, Thomas."

"We will."

"Together."

~~~~~~~~~~

Well, that escalated quickly. Hope you enjoyed it regardless, Anon😊

#the maze runner #tmr thomas #thomas x reader

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borkingbarnes · 4 years

Text

Control

Goddess of Lightning!Reader x Geralt of Rivia

Summary: A man of power and dominance, the Witcher does not give up control. But when he does, it’s oh so sweet.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: smutsmutsmut (18+ only!)

A/N: It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written a full length fic- as in about 2 years, really. Apologies for the lack of introduction of backstory/powers. Believe it or not, this was originally supposed to be a chapter in a series I was going to write, but I have commitment issues so here we are :) I hope you enjoy! 💕

The trio sit at a corner table, a mostly empty pitcher of ale situated between them. A roof over their heads and a designated night off a rarity. In true Jaskier fashion, conversation had primarily consisted of his ramblings, the other two content to sit back and listen to his wild tales, occasional quick rebuttals from the Witcher when the stories became too embellished. Tall tales of the bard’s many conquests– though he quite preferred to call them “nights of passion” –had the Witcher rolling his eyes.

“Come on Y/N, tell me, a pretty woman like yourself, you have men falling at your feet. Surely you must have had some luck yourself.” the bard prompts, nudging her elbow with his.

At this she smiles slightly. Throughout the time she had traveled with them, she had shown no interest in the men that strolled up to her, armed with corny pickup lines and empty promises of their performance abilities, no man having yet to prove themselves worth her time, let alone even be consider-worthy of bedding.

“Men are simple creatures, dear bard.” She says, finger trailing the rim of her stein. A slight quirk of the Witcher’s brow across from her tells her he’s now paying attention.

“I wouldn’t call any of it luck. It’s much too easy to pull a man completely undone in mere moments if you know what you are doing. See, men are both completely enticed, yet terrified of a confident woman.”

Pausing to take a sip of her ale, she doesn’t miss the way the Witcher’s eyes follow the movement of her tongue when she swipes it across her lip.

“They’re all the same; driven mad by lust in the presence of beauty. They think they’re in control, flirting and charming their way through, but really, they don’t control a damn thing. Bat an eye and say just the right words and practically watch as they become putty. And you can tell when they want you. You can tell when they want to fuck you.”

Her eyes snap up to meet the swordsman’s gaze. “Don’t you want to fuck me, Witcher?” she asks, watching as he takes a sip from his cup, her tone low and sultry.

Her laughter rings out across the tavern as the Witcher inhales sharply in surprise, air along with his ale, coughing as the liquid makes its way down the wrong pipe, glaring daggers at her. Jaskier joins in on her laughter, leaning into her arm resting on the table.

“My gods, Y/N, never in my months travelling with this grump, have I ever seen a Witcher blush!” He chokes between fits of laughter.

“Watch yourself, bard.” the Witcher growls, wiping drops of ale from the corner of his mouth, continuing his steely glare.

The cackling laughter stops when the broad man slams his cup down, “I’m going to bed.” He says gruffly, getting up from his seat.

“Aww come on, Geralt! It was just a bit of fun!”, the bard yells after the Witcher’s departing form, to no avail.

“His loss.”

A soft tap against his door brings the large, brooding man out of his thoughts. Her voice drifts through the thick wood.

“May I come in?”

A grunt in response, and she takes that as answer enough, knowing the Witcher to be a man of few words.

The door creaks as she opens it, stepping inside to find the Witcher sitting in front of the window, his back to her. He’s stripped of his armor, wearing dark trousers, back bare.

Upon her entry, he turns to look at her, inhaling sharply as he takes her in.

Clad in a red slip, the silky material hugs her body in a delicious way. Her hair is down, lips tinged the same shade of red that outlined her form, legs bare, and his mind wanders briefly what else may lay exposed beneath.

She smiles softly, though there was nothing soft in the way she looked at him.

He watches her hips sway as she crosses the room to stand before the bed on which he sat, leaning down on it across from him, offering just a peek.

“You never answered my question, Witcher.” She says, voice barely above a whisper.

His jaw clenches, brows furrowed as his mind tries to comprehend what hell was happening. His gaze drops to her lips when she takes it between her teeth teasingly, quirking an eyebrow at him.

A hand reaches toward his face tentatively, giving him time to move away. When he doesn’t, a finger rests beneath his chin, tilting it up, the atmosphere seeming to change. “You know, for such a strong fighter, you sure are little bitch when it comes to taking what you want.”

With that, a growl emits from the large man, calloused hand moving to grasp her by the throat. She holds his gaze as she blocks his movement, pinning his with one, the other grabbing his own throat harshly.

He stares at her, hardened gaze, his breathing now audible.

She pulls him to her by his neck, “If you want this darling, you’ll play by my rules.” She whispers in his ear, feeling him swallow harshly, her scent filling his senses.

Pulling back to look at him, the corner of her lips tilt up when they meet the Witcher’s face, amber irises swallowed by dark pupils, lips curled into a snarl.

The smirk is disappears as she tilts her chin up at him, breath fanning across his own lips as her hand tightens around him, “Now, this will be the last time I ask. Do you want to fuck me, Witcher?”

He stares at her for a while, searching her eyes for any indication that she was purely just fucking with him, the joke from earlier extending to now. When he finds none, his eyes close briefly. When they open again, “Yes, Princess” is ground between clenched teeth before he’s shoved backwards, onto his feet.

“Turn around and strip”, she commands.

A long, riled exhale before he obliges, turning away from her as he pulls at the laces of his trousers until they pool at his feet. He steps out of them and a clinking sound makes her turn back to her, brows furrowing.

She had moved away from the bed, now holding thick chains, swirling the end in a circle beside her.

“Arms out” she all but snarls, wicked grin on her face.

She pauses slightly to admire the man. Thick thighs with a cock to match.

His jaw sets in place, a growl rumbling in his chest, but he obliges to her command once again, holding his wrists out together in front of him, part of him intrigued by what was to come.

He hisses through his teeth as cold metal clashes against his fevered skin, the chain wrapping around his wrists and forearms tightly. Links pinch skin and he stumbles slightly when she yanks them towards her.

“Look at you Witcher, so obedient for me.” A dark chuckle escapes her pretty little mouth, and he can’t help but stare at her lips, breath heavy, chest heaving. She steps towards him to properly secure the chains, and his eyes go to her chest, her newfound closeness allowing him a proper look.

His hands twitch, fists clenching, teeth ground together.

“Onto the bed”, she commands, admiring the view of way the muscles in his shoulders tense and flex as he walks. She all but purrs as she watches him lay onto his back, cock straining, begging to be touched.

“Now now now, what shall we do with you?” she tsks, a hand sweeping up his thighs before nails dig into the flesh, causing him to flinch, dick twitching, a forced breath through his nose.

He watches as she walks toward the headboard, grabbing the thick chain, bringing his arms above his head. Her breasts come down to graze his face briefly as she bends down to secure the steel links to the metal bars of the headboard, the moment too fleeting for any movement from him before she pulls away.

She steps back, small smile on her lips, admiring her handiwork. She doesn’t miss the feral look in his eyes, amber flashing in the dim light. Teeth slightly bared.

Carnal. Exactly how she wanted him.

“Spread.” She commands from the foot of the bed, a slight shock emitting from her hands to the inner of his calf.

As she situates herself between his legs, she flashes him a smile, devilish and sinful. Open mouthed kisses are trailed up his thick thighs, muscles tightening. Higher and higher, so close to where he wanted her.

Chains rattle against the metal bars where they’re anchored, and she watches the ripple of the muscles in his arms, straining against their confines. When she meets his eyes, she almost shudders at the hunger in them.

Her path diverges slightly at his hips, cheek brushing against his dick. The valley of her breasts follow and he growls lowly at the slight pressure, metal bars creaking against the strain that he puts on them as she crawls up his body, leaving a searing trail in the wake of her lips. Her hands roam the toned muscles, electric tingles from her fingertips sizzling across his burning skin, finding their way to his core.

Her eyes flick up to his face, a devilish smirk, before her teeth scrape against his nipple. She tilts her chin to the side as his hips buck up, desperate for any sort of contact.

He growls in frustration when she moves just out of reach, eyes glaring, teeth clenched and bared. His breathing comes in heavy pants, and despite having obeyed her previous orders, he refuses to submit.

“Eager, are we?” She purrs, grabbing his jaw roughly with one hand, twisting it to the side so that his neck was exposed to her. Silky fabric meets his chest before the weight of her breasts drag against him as she slowly lowers her body onto him before placing an open-mouthed kiss onto his neck, sucking and nipping.

A deep moan rumbles in his chest and he can almost feel her smile against his skin. Without the chains, he would surely have flipped her over and fucked the damn impudence right out of her. Show her who really called the shots.

She suddenly ceases her ministrations and a sharp slap stings against the skin of his inner thigh, drawing a snarl from the Witcher.

“Those hips don’t move unless I say they do” she growls, millimetres from his face. He hadn’t even noticed that he had rutted up again, rational thoughts disappearing, leaving only carnal instinct in its wake. His teeth are bared at her and she looks up when the metal groans yet again, his resolve bending along with the bars he was tethered to.

His mind feels hazy, the edges of his vision seeming to blur, save for the woman in front of him, who is all too clear and focused to his eyes. His chest feels tight, whole body wound, and his brain barely registers the fatigue in his arms from straining against the chains. Never had he felt like this; so capitulate, his pleasure at the mercy of her hands, and hers alone.

“Y/N…” he growls. A warning. But a dark chuckle in response tells him that she’s taken his empty threats and squashed between her agile fingers, control coursing through her veins. Any hope that he’d have any say in his current fate vanishing.

A sharp grunt escapes him, head jerking forward as she moves back down his body, grinding herself along the shaft of his dick before settling between his legs once more.

There’s no warning before she takes him into her hand, long and thick, slight squeeze making him hiss between his teeth.

“Is this where you want me, Witcher?” she taunts, lips so close to the tip that he could feel her warm breath. A growl in response.

“Words, big boy.”

A sharp jolt to his hip when he ruts up in her hand. Bristling at her, she mirrors his intensity, silently challenging him with a quirk of her brow.

He takes a deep breath in through his nose, attempting to calm himself, “Yes, Princess”, ground out low through clenched teeth.

“Very good” she says sweetly, giving no warning before her lips wrap around the tip, a loud clank of chains against metal in response.

He watches her hungrily as she moves her lips off of him with an open-mouthed kiss left at the tip. Moving down to the base of his cock, lips grazing the shaft on the way down, a low groan escapes him as she presses her tongue flat on the underside, licking a broad stripe up before capturing him in her warm mouth again.

Taking him back in, she slowly sinks her mouth lower and lower, until her nose touches his skin, feeling him throb at the back of her throat. She lets him thrust into her mouth, wild snaps of his hips; a string of curses falling from his lips. He snarls once she pulls back up, unable to control the desperate need that festered in the pit of his stomach.

Her hand returns to the shaft, pumping the slickness of her spit mixed with his leaking pre-cum. When she meets his gaze, he swears for a moment they flash before a sweet electric tingling along his cock takes the air of his lungs momentarily, eyes squeezing shut.

He watches her with parted lips, eyes focused as if in a trance as she takes him back into her mouth, her pupils blown wide as his cock moves between her lips slowly, hand in sync with her movements.

His hips rise sharply when he feels her flick her tongue on the underside of the tip. Nerves ignited, each passing of her lips spreading pleasure through him like a wildfire and he begins to feel the familiar squeeze of his lower abdomen, his breath coming in pants as she continues to work him with her mouth.

In an instant she ceases her ministrations, a loud frustrated growl sounding from the Witcher.

In the next moment she’s straddling his hips once more, hand wrapping around his throat.

“You thought it would be that easy, Witcher?” she sneers, fingers tightening. She relishes the feeling of his strong pulse under her fingertips, the usual slow beating of a Witcher’s heart now erratic through the delicate skin.

He snarls at her in response, the sound turning into a low moan as she grinds herself against him.

She leans down, warm breath against his ear, voice low and wicked. “Don’t you want to play, darling? Don’t you want to fuck a Princess?”

Wiggling her hips slightly, she grasps him again in her free hand, before sinking down, guttural groan leaving him as he arches against the bed, sharp clang as one of the metal bars snap.

Delicious warmth envelopes him, squeezing, beckoning. And gods in the century that he had lived, never had he felt anything like this.

Her movements are precise, skilled passes of her hips as low grunts escape him, “fuck, Princess” growled between clenched teeth when nails sink into his chest, the burn they leave only fueling the sensations, his lower abdomen tightening, muscles straining.

His own hips snap up to meet hers each time, the soft moan escaping her lips setting his senses ablaze.

A loud laugh from outside of the door snaps their heads in its direction. It doesn’t cease and soon she joins in with it. His brows furrow as he stares at her, the image of her beginning to sway slightly.

A loud snort jolts him awake, reaching quickly for the knife beside him. Amber eyes scan the room, focusing on the form of the bard crumpled on his own bed in hysterics.

“Geralt! You–! HA!” The bard all but screeches, “Did you – did you have a sex dream?!”

The low growl and blade whizzing past his head to land in the wall behind him only seems to spur the minstrel on, howls of laughter ringing out as he clutches his stomach.

“Oh! Oh princess!” He mocks the Witcher in a high-pitched voice, another round of hysterics rendering him incapable of forming coherent words once more as he babbles uncontrollably.

However, the cackling soon stops when a pillow is pressed roughly against his face, arms and legs soon flailing as his air is cut off.

When the Witcher deemed Jaskier was on the verge of collapse, the pillow is lifted, only to be replaced by his face, mere inches from the bard’s, “Speak a fucking word of this and your head shall roll with the kikimore I slayed in the forests of Pontar.”

A knock at the door saves the minstrel, Y/N’s voice sounding from behind the thick wood.

Great. Just what he needed.

“Come!! Come in!” Jaskier exclaims, using Geralt’s diverted attention to quickly slip out from his position, scrambling to the door. Throwing it open to reveal Y/N, chipper and looking as if she had been up for hours, unlike the men inside.

Closing the door after she walks in, Jaskier stands behind her, chin tilted to his chest, smug smile spread widely across his face in the direction of the Witcher, eyebrows wiggling up and down.

His ministrations are not acknowledged, but the clench of the Witcher’s jaw lets him know that he had gotten under the broad man’s skin. Triumphant, he moves to stand beside the warrior.

“What do you want?” Geralt growls, words coming out harsher than perhaps he meant them to.

He took in the sight of her, clad in fitted matte black armor, the metal and leather conforms to her figure, showcasing the body of a fighter, sword on her hip.

The images of her from his dreams flash in his mind, red silk behind his eyelids when he blinks, and he shakes his head slightly to clear it, the motion not going unnoticed by Jaskier.

Rolling her eyes slightly at the Witcher’s snappiness, she pulls out a knife which had been strapped to her thigh, twirling it between her fingers.

“While you lazy buttocks slept, I got a contract, and for this one, I require your help.”

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#Geralt of Rivia #Geralt of rivera #geralt x reader #Geralt of Rivia x reader #Henry Cavill #Geralt x y/n #Henry Cavill characters #the Witcher #the Witcher Netflix #Geralt smut #Witcher smut #Geralt fanfic #witcher fanfic

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sibsteria · 3 years

Text

all the angels [cast & angels & chuck]

prompts: ''run away with me''

summary: [bare with me, this is a long summary and concept] throughout the decades, y/n and the angels lived in harmony, her being the only being with powers on par with chuck. an immortal life with your angels sounds good, doesn't it? something goes wrong and y/n gets projected into the world of the spn actors. she had never met god, despite being made for the angels because of him. the thing is, she doesn't remember anything of her life with the angels and this messes with reality. the world of reality, along with y/n, are all magically convinced she has always been in their universe as a fellow cast mate. what happens when most of her favourite angels and a certain hellish man team up to collect her in the middle of a con?

characters: Rob Benedict, Richard Speight Jr, Mark Pellegrino, Misha Collins, Mark Sheppard, Sebastian Roche, Chuck Shurley, Gabriel, Castiel, Lucifer, Balthazar, Crowley

warnings: I dreamt something along the lines of this and it's just pure crack, I apologise, fluff, angst, everyone is single because it gets weird. I wrote this at 4am :/

---

''So let's talk about Y/n's character! She hasn't been explained too much but we know her backstory.'' Wow, thank you, Mark Sheppard.

''Well, I'm pretty sure the fans already know.'' I shrug, but a glare from the man before me makes me roll my eyes.

''Come on, don't leave them in the dust, also sharing a name with your character is weird right?'' He teases me, I resist the urge to walk over and playfully slap him.

''Fine. She was created by God to please the angels in whatever way they needed, with her consent obviously. She creates a connection with Gabriel and their connection become the focus of her life, until she meets Crowley-'' I look over at Sheppard and paint a fake scowl on my face, sending the audience into light laughter. ''-who is also vying for her attention, but as you all know, she had been killed off at the end of the last season. Y'all didn't see that blinding golden light and her disappearing act?'' I raise my eyebrow at the crowd. They murmur amongst themselves.

''Are you sure she was killed off?'' Richard snickers from next to me. ''What if her dear Gabe just snapped her away for some-'' He wags his eyebrows to out fans. ''-angel on paragon action.''

''It's literally in the script shut up- or you know, believe this idiot.'' I smile, showing I meant no offense

''Scripts change! You know that!'' Misha reasons, aggressively.

''I suppose so.'' Leaving audiences in an unsolved mystery is the fun of cons.

---

Sitting in the green room, it's sweaty and warm after the panel. We are instantly greeted by our colleagues awaiting their next instructions such as Mark Pellegrino, Sebastian Roche and Rob Benedict.

''Welcome back, you little bastards.'' Sebastian's voice rings throughout the room, I groan, faceplanting onto the couch where Rob sat, fiddling with an acoustic guitar.

We sat, talked, ate, I napped, yknow the usual.

---

''So, do you think they will bring you back for the next season?'' Misha asks, I bite my lip and answer him.

''I have no idea, no one has said anything so maybe not. I'll be joining our widdle Kings of Con if not.'' I give a baby voice when talking about the couple that is R2.

''Hey!'' Rob's voice wavers in his distinct little way.

''Rude of you to call me little.'' Richard winks and I shoot gag at him, he feigns a frown.

''In other news-'' Mark Pellegrino's cut-in is interrupted by a blinding golden light, surrounding the room. I grip onto Rob's arm as the ground begins to shake, burring my head into his chest, I cover my eyes from the light. He holds me back just as tight, hiding in the comfort of my shoulder. One of many weird, intimate moments with him that makes people believe we are together.

A loud, pitched, sound rattles around us. A few of us scream in pain but I just whimper and move closer into Rob.

Suddenly, everything stops and stills.

I can't force myself to move.

''What the fuck?!'' I hear Misha, making me not want to move even more.

''Ha! Look, she's cuddling you. Awe.'' I hear Richard's voice, but it wasn't him, it didn't sound like him. I pull myself away from Rob's chest and look at the scene unfolding.

'What the fuck?'' I whisper, repeating Collins' earlier comment. Stood here, a few feet in front of us are Gabriel, Balthazar, Castiel, Crowley, Lucifer and Chuck. Did I miss something?

''Not happy to see us, darlin'?'' Gabriel smirks, a foot of his approaches me, I look at them in confusion and shock.

''W-What's going on?'' That is the first time I have ever heard Pellegrino stutter.

''We should probably talk...'' Chuck wavers his hands to us all, motioning us to listen to him.

''So, uh, Y/n here? She's our Y/n, from our reality and we kinda want her back.'' Gabriel shuffles his weight between each of his feet, I'm in too much terror to even speak, so is everyone else.

''You hear him, dickbags? We want her back.'' Lucifer crosses his arms, staring dead into Pellegrino's soul, presumably to make him uncomfortable.

''I don't understand-'' I stop myself, leaving it at that.

''Wait, do you not remember?'' Gabriel looks at me, broken eyes reflect his inside pain.

''Of course she doesn't, you bollock! Can't you see the look on her face?'' Crowley rolls his eyes but for some reason I can sense his true sadness.

''I will explain, better.'' Castiel takes a step towards me. ''You are Y/n Divine, our Divine, your the celestial from our existence. Your our...?'' He struggles to find the words, Balthazar answers for him. Not the lot of explaining I need there, Cas.

''Our collective soulmate, so to speak.'' He nods.

''Yeah, that's who I am in Supernatural but- this isn't the show, this is reality. I gotta be dreaming, oh my God-'' Chuck interferes (doesn't he always).

''That's me.'' The nervous laugh from the bearded almighty almost makes me laugh, almost, but the situation was too real for it. ''Would it help if I...showed you?'' He says, unsure of his choice of words.

For some reason, I pour my trust into him, and walk towards the clone of my almost boyfriend, I wished.

''Mind if I show all of you?'' Chuck asks, before ignoring some of the 'no's in the room and he snaps, bringing us into a dream state.

Scenes flow through our brains, ones that weren't in the show

---

Dressed in a white kaftan with golden afflictions, there was Y/n, lay in the greenest of grass. And next to her? Gabriel the Archangel. Almost in a Bella-Edward meadow position, the two looked into each other, reading one another's soul.

''Run away with me.'' Gabriel whispers, lighter than air.

''What?'' She snaps out of her dreamy daze.

''Let's leave, you don't need any other angel that isn't me.'' This breaks her heart, although Gabriel was her favourite and the one she had a special connection with, she had a duty to remain near the other angels.

''I want to-'' Gabe's heart lifts but sank soon after. ''-but you know I can't. I wasn't created to defy my purpose, I would cease to exist if I did.'' A tear rolls down her cheek, the light from the fading sun rested gracefully on her skin.

''I know. Oh, what was I thinking? My father will come after us and- I would rather now think about what he would do to us, to you.'' He looks away from her to relish in his pain.

''Don't be like that, my little Aurelian enchanter-'' She mentions the colour of his golden wings, which lay across the ground behind him, a beautiful sight. ''-the time will come where no angel needs me, then I can devote myself to you, only you.'' She mumbles, pressing a sure kiss to the peak of his nose. He huffs in a peaceful array of emotion.

''At least you don't kiss any other of my brothers or estranged family.'' He nudges back at her, nose to nose.

---

''That was sickening to watch.'' Pellegrino chuckles into the dark abyss of our voices, unable to see each other but still recognising each other within the blindness.

''Shall I show you another one?'' A rhetorical question from the Lord from above, as he whisks us into another memory.

---

She sat on a bench, clad in elegancy, the world was still new and beaming. New angels were being created, not all of them needed a divine celestial to aid them, so she spent her days watching the creations live. The bees harvesting pollen from the flowers was one of her favourite sights.

She felt an angelic presence appear next to her, but a new one, an unknown one.

''Who might you be?'' She asks, not tearing her eyes away from the fuzz of a creature.

''I am Castiel.'' Short and stat, seems like the kind of being he was, without a vessel he could be read more easily.

''No vessel yet, I assume?'' She looks towards the beam of light beside her.

''No, not yet. I hardly think there's a need for such a thing.'' His voice was the most beautiful she had heard, of all the angels, no vessel and no front made him so much more enticing.

''Well, nice to meet you. You're wings...they're black? Pretty though, new as well.'' She smiled at Castiel, his aura positively increased, the interaction helping them both. Just a simple amount of time in company can help an angel.

''Thank you.''

---

''So that's Castiel?'' Misha seems uneasy.

''Would you like to see the encounter between her and his vessel?''

---

She sat, with Balthazar, just grooming his beautiful wings. An act she did for her most favourite angels.

''Have you seen Castiel's vessel?'' He smiles up at her, in his own vessel.

''Not yet but I am excited though, from the comments I'm hearing, he is a most handsome fellow.'' She brushes past a certain spot, making Bal shiver in delight, not in a sexual manner.

''Ugh, like you don't find yourself infatuated with my golden winged brother already, don't go falling for another one.'' He groans in disgust, she laughs, melodically.

''I can promise you, I won't.'' That was a future lie.

''Hello, Y/n.'' A new voice from behind her, sensing the energy, she knew it was Cas.

A wide grin stretches across her features, ''Castiel!'' She shouts, whipping round to face the angel in his new restrictions. ''My, my, good choice, my angel.'' A nickname specifically reserved for the defying being.

''I would say 'thank you', but it would be a most similar and repetitive interaction.'' She sighs in relaxation, reliving her first encounter with Castiel.

''You are always welcome, you're one of my favourites.'' She boops his nose, squeaking 'boop' at the same time, Cas cocks his head in confusion.

''Boop?'' He questions her, she shrugs her shoulders.

''You're cute, so I booped you.'' She giggles, Castiel couldn't refuse the stutter in his 'emotions' as she spoke.

''Okay.''

---

I heard Mark Sheppard's voice throughout the void, ''YoU'rE cUtE, sO i BoOpEd YoU!'' His badgering voice pointing fun at me.

''Shut up.'' I mumble.

---

It was beautiful, the winding waterfall gushing down the rocks, watching it flow. She sat, in deep thought, things between Lucifer and Michael were getting tense, she was scared for the future.

''You don't need to worry about us, my little cherub.'' Lucifer's voice mixed eloquently with the sound of the waves slowly connecting the lake below.

''It's part of my job, I couldn't help it if I tried.'' She shrugged, she stared at the water, taking in the fresh air.

''I know that things aren't simple, they never will be, just know you will always have me. I have never spoken to anyone in such a tone before, you should be honoured, little one.'' This made her accumulate, she leaned back into hold, he was a median temperature. It was nice.

''My Lucifer.'' She grinned in thought. ''You always have been the most intriguing, I will never give up on you, I promise you that.'' She craned her neck to look at the blonde, before pressing the smallest of kisses to his jaw. She had never seen him so vulnerable, so honest with himself, and she wouldn't again for some time.

---

''My dear, this is too dangerous. You are not a warrior, you are a healer and an abettor. I can't let you, I'm sorry.'' Crowley's gruff rumble soaked the thin air, she wanted to fight for her angels- with her angels. She held the power, but not the will.

''I was made for this moment, this is my purpose, I have to do something.'' She pleads, tears stinging her eyes.

''Listen to me, darling, they need you alive more than you're help. Listen to what I'm saying, although I am nonpartisan, I can't remain unbiased. I fear that my little, fascination with you is what keeps you safe. The angels may not love it, but it keeps you safe whilst they handle their own. They want you safe, so that is what I will do.'' His short monologue seemed to flip something within Y/n, she stayed silent for a moment, reeling in thought. Hearing his repetition of the word safe just made her wish the same for her angels.

''I-I guess you're right. I don't want anything to happen to them, you remember last time, when it all-'' She couldn't bring herself to continue, relishing in the agony of remembering when Lucifer was cast.

''Yes, my dear, and you nearly got caught in the crossfire. It can't happen again, there is no other being like you and there never will be. The stories are that God nearly killed himself trying to create you, you are everything he wanted humanity to be.'' She smiled at this, he was trying to cheer her up with a bit of complimenting. ''Even if you are stubborn.'' She slapped his chest, as a farce and let out a small cachinnate.

---

Everyone was silent, things started to get heavy on thought and reason. No one could think of a word to say.

''One more for good measure, then we will asses you, Y/n.'' Uh, what does that mean?

---

The quiet air that surrounded the two was comforting and safe, content and peaceful. Y/n and Gabriel sat opposite one another, his wings lay in her lap as she did what she does best. Her hands traced up the outer lining of his wings, from top to bottom, before moving in the the inner feathers. She rolled a collection of feathers between her fingers each time she moving a few inches down, softly and gently. Working out the stress and the tightness that wound itself within them, he holds onto her knee, using it as a gripping post every once in a while. It wasn't a pain thing though, it was quite the opposite, the gratification and the bliss he was receiving from such a special moment was intense.

''I don't know why, I think your wings are my favourite.'' She hums out, brushing out the feathers she had been fixing in a swoop from the height of his wing and downwards, before moving on to the next section.

''Oh, really?'' Gabriel couldn't resist the playful tone residing in his comment, but that was what Y/n loved, he wasn't afraid to tease her.

''Without a doubt, they're mesmerising. Such a beautiful colour, and shape. They suit you so well.'' Slowly, she leans forward to kiss the corner of his mouth, before gently pulling herself back.

''Come on, sweetheart! You can do better than that-'' His voice is cut off by a staggering gasp as she unwinds a knot in his feather, gripping her knee tight, he swoons.

She doesn't say a word, yet she picks up her head again, craning towards the angel's face. While continuing to brush out his ailerons of flight, she kisses him again, direct and strong. She moves against his lips with such care but much passion, Gabriel couldn't resist the slip of his tongue to her, she wasn't in any way complaining.

---

''Okay, that was upsetting to watch.'' Richard grumbles, we find ourselves back inside the green room, standing in front of us remain Chuck and Gabriel.

''You're telling me.'' I let a slanted expression reach my face.

''You mean you still don't remember?'' Gabriel's frown tugs at my heart, I feel something for him, but not as immense as what we have been watching.

''I have something that might work, but it might...do something?'' Chuck gives out a nervous chuckle, small and barely there.

''Do it, I need her back, I don't care about the consequences unless it hurts her.'' The strain and torment in his intonation is dismal.

''It won't hurt her, but it might- never mind, if it happens then it happens, if it doesn't then you will be happy you didn't know.'' Chuck walks towards me with purpose and I cower back slightly, a stern alarm on my face.

''W-Woah there, what are you doing?'' I reach out my hands in a 'stop' motion, he grabs hold of them.

''Bringing back your memory, I need you to focus on the moments you just watched, think about how you felt during them.'' I thought back, I felt as if I was the girl in the grass, and in heaven and the girl who loved the angels. I revelled in the select memories, the beautiful memories. ''Good, carry on thinking about them and how you felt.''

I felt a warmth surge through my hands, as they remained connected to Chuck's.

''It's working.'' I peek open my eyes and look down at our hands. Mine are white and hold a holy glow, my eyes widen as I look at the magic.

''This is you?'' I ask, Chuck shakes his head.

''It's you, well, it's us. You have your own powers, but this kind can only be used when I am touching you. You know you have angelic advantages, from the show?'' He explains in a way I understand, I nod. ''D-Do you want to remember this world? Along with your true one?'' I bit my lip before answering.

''I would, some people I can't let go.'' I look towards Rob, who stood off towards the side, the group of my colleagues still in shock of the situation, some whispering to each other.

''I see. Are you ready?'' The heat is getting more intense in my hands, a burning hot white light shines from then.

''I think so.''

''I need to warn you, you may not like what could happen next.'' He unclasps our hands before reaching up to sandwich my head between them. It wasn't painful, it was peculiar, my body went numb. This took around a minute before he took his hands of me.

My mind and his instantly travelled to a secluded world. It was barren and empty, but beautiful, Red sand and burnt skies surrounded me, small oasis' patched around. The sun was in a constant set, never going up nor down.

''Where are we?'' I asked Chuck, he was dressed in a white pant and shirt, I looked down towards myself. I was enclosed by a gorgeous lengthy white garment, a golden sash across my waist.

''We're in your head. How are you feeling?'' I smile.

''Like myself, thanks Chuck, nice to meet you by the way- can't believe I haven't said that yet, after all Gabe has told me.''

''Um, okay, this is going to be awkward to ask. What do you feel? When you look at me, that is.''

''Hm...'' I look into his soft eyes. I felt as if I belonged there, like it was home. My whole existence within his soul.

''That's- not good.'' He must have read me, because I didn't say that out loud. I widen my eyes, starting to panic. ''I-I mean, it could be? It depends how you feel on the matter.'' He tries to soothe me.

''Explain.'' Was all I said.

''We- well. I've linked us, not on purpose. You're life's fulfilment is with me now, along with the angels. I'm not your creator anymore, I'm your equal. Yet you are not light nor dark, your the meld of both, a mediator if you will. The love for the angels, can be found within myself now. I'm sorry, I never thought it would actually happen.'' I'm guessing this is the first time he has ever apologised, I don't know how but- I feel like I know everything about him. The almost humanitarian way he dabbles jn his powers is confronting.

''Yes, that's another edge you have, you know everything about me now, you know who I am and what I've done.'' He looks ashamed and off to the side.

''You may not be proud of who you are, but I am-'' I hold his hand and turn his head with my other. ''You're the creator, just because you have done bad things, does not mean you're a bad person.'' I feel like I've known him my whole life, I technically have. He remains silent.

''We will have our time, go seem them. If you ever need to see me and I'm not around, think of this place and I'll meet you here, no matter how far apart we are.'' He extracts us from the sanctuary.

I'm back in my own body, looking around at the awkward faces of my peers. We must have been stood, staring into space for some time.

''Hey-''I turn to Gabe as he speaks, walking towards him before I stop dead in my tracks. I swiftly run back to Chuck, slamming my lips against his, I feel my heart stutter in the shock of my own actions. He kisses me back with much more passion, before I pull away. I look at Rob, his mouth his hung open, using my power I look into his head.

He's shocked and- jealous. He thinks it's invigorating to see a version of himself kiss you. Realising he could've admitted his feelings to you, perhaps you wouldn't have gone back to them.

''Well- okay, that's new.'' Gabriel mutters, his voice cracks in the middle of his speech.

I turn and run towards Gabe.

''Don't worry, you're still my favourite.'' He yanks me into a hug, pulling me into a compact hug, I wrap my legs around his waist.

He whispers some enochian into my ear, I bite my lip and smile. Along the lines of 'should I book the hotel now or later?'.

''You know full well we don't need to do that.'' I couldn't help but tease him back, he sighs in content, happy to have us back.

''I'm- confused, what the fuck is going on?'' Sebastian calls.

''If you want, you can make them forget, Y/n.'' Chuck announces, a valley of yelling and protests wash over me from the Supernatural cast.

''Can I? It could be for the best...'' I trail off, the cast look at me with hurt in their eyes, I decide to communicate with Rob through his head.

'Rob' He looks around, alarmed. 'I'm in your mind, don't panic'

'How could you? I know you aren't meant to be here but please don't make me forget you' I could hear the pain within him.

'I won't completely, you'll know me, but not as who I am. You will know me as your colleague and friend, I'll visit you'

'I love you, I'm sorry I never said it' I heard his heart shatter.

'I love you too, maybe we can develop something in the future' Maybe I was asking too much of myself, maybe not.

''You ready to go back?'' Chuck waltzes toward me and Gabriel. ''Other angels want to see you, I can hear them, it's rather annoying.'' I smile at the thought of seeing them all again, this time knowing who they are to me.

''I think so.'' I turn back to say my goodbyes.

''Misha, you are one of the most genuine and kind people this Earth can offer, I'm so happy I met you.'' I move forward to hug him, channelling my power, as soon as I leave this plane it will activate- leaving them in the state they were before.

''Mr. Sheppard, you smarmy bastard, never change. The world couldn't take it. I'll see you soon.'' I step forward to hug him.

''My, my, Pellegrino, a tear? Not going soft on me, are you?'' He shakes his head, rolling his eyes at me. ''I'll miss you and your karaoke.'' I hug him, he holds on a little longer, refusing to let me go. I look at him with sad eyes, before turning to Sebastian.

''You and your attitude Roche, you're such a light person, you'll see me again and I promise you that. Keep up the humour, you're not yourself without it.'' I hug him, ejecting a powerful wave.

''Richard, I will admit you are my best friend, even when you're trying to sleep with everything that walks. Take care of Robbie for me, I won't be too long before my next visit, so hold on.'' I grip him in my arms, pulling gently on his beard as we part, before getting mockingly swatted away.

I couldn't sat goodbye to Rob, looking at his disheartened face. ''R-Robbie-'' I tried not to cry, saying goodbye to so many friends is breaking me.

''I can't explain how much you mean to me, I love you, in every way you can imagine. I love you all.'' I hug Rob, not wanting to let go.

''Please don't go.'' His whimper makes me finally let out tears.

''I need to. I promise I'll return.'' I think about my next action, before deciding on it.

'Pull away if you don't want this.' I say to him, his head is swimming with agony.

Kissing him, very lightly, I feel tears mix on my lips. I pull away before I get too attached.

''Gonna miss you, so much.'' He whispers to me, clutching my shirt in his hands.

''I have to go, bye Benedict, till we meet again.'' I try to spin a comedic affect into my words, stepping away from my best friends.

Chuck holds out his hands, Gabriel and I connect to them. I shut my eyes, I can't face what I'm leaving behind. I feel a golden illumination against my shut eyelids.

It's not forever, but I will miss them.

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rightnowyoucanttell · 3 years

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Hi! Can you please do a steve harrington x henderson! reader fanfic with so much fluff. I don't care about the backstory it can be whatever you want it to be! Your account is lovely!

This account, @aesthetic-harrington is so so sweet, and understanding. I promised them several times that I'd post but life got in the way, I hope you like this 💕 I hope this okay, if not pleaseeee let me know.

Summary: Y/N and Steve have been dating for a year now. Dustin doesn't quite like it but he's not opposed, but a pregnancy was never in the contract...

- ⚠️ warnings ⚠️: mentions of teen pregnancy, angst, contemplation of abortion, eventual fluff!

Series???

NOT MY GIF

~~~~~☆☆☆~~~~

“Henderson...your so beautiful..” his hands ran over your cheek gently, your boyfriend of a year, Steve, laid tiredly across from you. He was still in his clothes he wore to work. His hair messily scattered. The two of you were suppose to rent a movie and then watch it once he got off, but changed.

“You..are soo tired Steve Harrington. You work so hard babe.” You hands removed some of his curls away from his Forehead before coming back to your side. He hummed lightly at your touch, your warm hands touching his cool skin.

"I worked my ass off. Thats why" you both laugh at his remark, he pulls you closer so your torsos are touching he brings your arms to wrap around his body.

"Ohh wow, you rented movies to teenagers who probably just came there to see you, soo hard.." you tease drifting as your fingers twirl his dark brown hair.

Soon, Steve’s chest heaved slightly his body overcome with a heavy sleep, you however were overcome with a strange wave of nausea. It was strange and out of the blue, it was 9:00 at night, this never happened.

You sat on the edge of the bed quietly, glancing over your shoulder to gaze at Steve. He was tired as hell, working late shifts at family video again. That, and having to pick up your brother from his friends, Dustin, before even getting a break after work. You sighed as a brief smile crossed your face. He was so peaceful. So calm. You kissed his cheek. Leaning over the bed without getting up. You got up and went walked down the hall to go to the kitchen, passing Dustin's room.

He wasn't supposed to be up this late but, he was reluctantly accepting of you and Steve. When you first told him he was indeed, 100% pissed. The two of you snuck around for months nearly getting caught, but you felt guilty hiding your brothers friend from him. You definitely owed him one. You kept it shut and continued down the hall.

When you reached the kitchen, you got a glass and filled it with water from the tap. You mused out the window as you took a sip, rasing it to your lips before lowering it soon after.

Then it made sense. You didn't want to admit it but, you were going to have too. The dreams, the neasous feeling that never left, and the continent unprotected quickie in Steve's car 2 months ago...

You were possibly pregnant.

The glass in your hand slipped as the nerves overwhelmed your body, your frail fingers felt the glass falling to the floor. And the tiny pieces shattered on the floor, you looked out the window.

What were you going to do? What the fuck were you going to do? How would Steve react?

"..Y/N!" Dustin's voice shook you frome your mental spiral. He stood on the opposite side of the glass, "what you do that for!" He motioned to the glass shards on the floor.

".. it was an accident, you should be more than familiar with the term. Just-" Steve’s figured groggily appeared in the frame of the hallway he frame against the wall, rubbing his eyes," go to bed. Please, ill clean this up."

"Fine." Dustin pattered down the hallway, this time, shutting his bedroom door behind him. The light disappeared from down the hallway.

"What did you do this time, Henderson?" He chuckled. You watched him circle you grabbing the dustpan from under the counter and going to work on his knees, cleaning the glass. You were in shock, how could have this happened.

"Steve?" You asked kneeling infront of him. Placing your hands in your lap, trying to seem composed.

"Yeah?" He responded still scooping the glass pieces from the tile to the pan, ever so gently.

"I -i think im pregnant. And if I am- i don't care if you leave, im keeping it."

Steve stopped sweeping. And eariee silence filled the dim light kitchen. Your mom was at work, Dustin in bed, the only sound was you breathing. Steve kept his head down, a tear formed at your cheek. His lack of response worried you.

"..is it mine.." He slowly started sweepig again. You were shocked. Of course it was his, who's else would it be.

"I'm not even sure there's an it, yet Steve. But, yeah, of course it would be yours who else am I sleeping with," you whipped a tear from below your eye.

"Y/N, this shouldn't have happened, we were careful, right? I mean. Ah what am I saying, its both of our faults. I love you, so much so that I will do anything possible for this baby. Baby or no baby, im never, " Steve finished sweeping the glass and set the pan on the small table without leaving the floor," ever. Leaving you."

He scooted forward to cradle your face in his hands. Caressing your damp cheek, "i love you. " he said quietly before pressing his lips to yours.

"Love you more, Steve. You know.. youd make a pretty sweet dad.." you drifted off patting his shoulder as you attempted to stand. He just smiled and took your hand as the two of you walked back to your bedroom, to sleep the recent events away, to only be greeted by them in the morning.

Agh idk!! I wanna continue this but idek if this is good

#steve harrington request #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #well this fucking sucks #im a terrible writter #AHH

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dabiboy · 3 years

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Idk if I requested this but hawks x reader where the reader and hawks both grew up in abuse and raised by the commision. ( there backstory ) and while there out on a mission hawks almost gets killed but the reader dwoop in and took the blow instead and that’s when he realises he’s been in love with her all this time idk it’s confusing ( however you want to do but the reader doesn’t die ) fluff ending please angst to fluff ;-; <333

Hi there! Well, the idea I had mixed these two requests, hope you don’t mind 😅

If anyone likes reading with music, I wrote this while listening this songs in the following order ‘Lost boy-Ruth B, When it's All Over by Raign, Call your name by Attack on Titan, Take Me Back to the Night We Met by Lord Huron and Hold on by Chord Overstreet.’ idk if it fits the timing, but yeah 😅

Always

''Shit, careful'' Hawks hissed when the cold compress made contact with his bruised cheekbone.

''If you don't stop moving is hard, you know'' You said, putting some pressure to reduce the pain.

''Fair point'' He remained silence for a while before a nostalgic smile appeared on his face ''This brings me memories'' you knew what he was talking about, and couldn't help but smile in the same way.

''Yeah, me too...''

Years before

Thunders and rain were the scenario for that cold night at the commission, but that didn't stop the training nor the classes during the day. However, the only thing you were waiting for was dinner time, the only moment of the day where you could hang out with all the different kids, but that special one. The kid with red wings, Hawks. The two of you became friends due to sad circumstances, when he had asked you where did you come from. Without even knowing him, he gave you the confidence you never felt, his eyes paying attention to you, nothing else, ready to listen and provide any help. You told him everything about you, about the abusive household, the bad treats and all that comes with it. His wings flopped, his eyebrows went up and his eyes open when he heard your story, and with some sad emotion he had claimed that he went through the same. ''We're not that different! I just have wings'' ''But your wings are really cool'' ''Do you think so?'' And from that conversation on, your dinners were not lonely anymore, nor your lunches or breakfast. Hawks was always there, to tell a joke, to support you, to tell you about his day and ask you about yours.

That is why you felt weird when he wasn't at the dining room as every night waiting for you. The table the two of you shared was empty, and he was nowhere to be seen. You walked with your tray among the other students, asking them if they had seen Hawks, but none of them did. However, a girl walked towards you and say some words that made you whimper. ''I heard he was training really hard today'' was he ok? After thanking the girl you left the tray on a random empty table, grabbing only the chocolate bar they gave you as a trait on Friday nights.

Walking through the installations was always confusing, too many hallways and doors that were similar, but you knew the way to his room. Hawks' room. You were being careful, though. Girls' and boys' dorms were separated, and there was no way you could get to his dorm past nine pm. But there you were, walking fast and cautiously until you get to the known door. One knock and no answer. Two and the same happened.

''Hawks? It's me, I... I didn't see you at dinner so I thought...''

The door opened on his own, a feather, of course. He was getting better at using them, but that had a cost, a cost you comprehend when you saw the twelve year old boy sitting with legs crossed on his bed. He was lucky he had a dorm for his own, but he didn't seem happy about it. Actually, it was the first time you saw him sad. He was the one that comforted you, the one that made you smile. But now his light was faded. You approached him slowly, sitting next to him. You could notice his raspy knees and cheekbones, forehead, arms. Everywere. He was trying hard to control his sob, holding his Endeavor plushie with one hand against his chest. You were the only one who knew about it, he didn't want other kids to bother him for liking the flame hero.

''Hawks?'' You whispered ''What happened?''

''Training was hard today'' He answered simply, looking down at the mattress.

''I... Can see'' You tried to laugh at your bad joke ''Do they... Hurt?'' The bruises were too evident as to avoid them. ''They should give you something for the pain!''

''They said that it should heal soon, so... Guess I'll be fine'' He hugged his plushie a bit more.

''You need to be ok if you're gonna be a great hero!'' You said standing up, looking through the cabinets in his dorm for a faids kit, and when you found it you sat back next to him.

''What are you doing?'' He asked, his curious bird-like expression was on his face again.

''I will heal you. Or try to'' All of your attention was on looking the things you needed.

You used the cold gel compress to put it on his bruised cheekbone, telling him to hold it as you look for something to clean the dry blood off his arms and knees. He looked at you with a confused expression, no one took care of him like that before. Not even mentions his parents. At the commission, the other kids always praised his wings, and they wanted to be friends with him because of that reason, but you were different. There you were, trying your best at healing him, making lame jokes to make him laugh and to cheer him up, telling him he was going to be a great person.

Once you were done, you sat comfortably again and smiled at him

''Oh, I almost forgot. I got you this!'' You took the chocolate candy out of your pocket ''It melted a bit, but I hope it cheers you up'' His eyes winded in surprise again, and then he leaned in to hug you tight. His arms caging your shoulders. You couldn't help but blush a bit, a boy was hugging you, what else could you do?

''Thanks, really. You're my best friend'' Hawks said, his eyes still a bit glossy but now they looked a bit happier ''Do you want the half?'' He asked you, opening the candy and splitting it in two.

The winged kid made your life at the commission a hundred times better.

Present day.

''I can't believe that you're a grown up man and I still have you patch you up'' You joked, leaving the cold compress on his desk. After years of training together, the commission decided that you worked well together, that's how you ended up in his agency, working next to him.

''And I will never be able to thank you enough'' He said with a teasing smile.

''Yeah yeah, whatever'' You said, getting away from the chair he was sitting ''Are you gonna go to the date with Hanao?'' Feelings were hard to comprehend, and you didn't know why you felt jealous every time he went on dates with random girls. No, you knew it. You just couldn't confess even to yourself that you were in love with that man.

''Uh, I think so. She's hot but talks too much'' He frowned his nose when he whined.

''I talk a lot too'' You raised your eyebrows.

''Yeah, but your diffe-'' The door opening dramatically interrupted him.

''Guys! Nomus are attacking the city again, we need back up!'' The man yelled.

The two of you adopted a serious posture immediately, Hawks gave you the look that asked if you were ready, and knowing him as you did you simply nodded.

He held you in his arms so he could fly you near the scene where the chaos was happening, and when was near the floor he let you down, knowing you're fighting area was the ground.

Hawks went flying so he could rescue some civilians with his feathers and fight nomus with the bigger wings. Things were getting messy, the creatures were destroying everything, and none of you noticed the spilled gasoline of a broken car and the fire nearby.

You were finishing with a nomu when you saw Hawks again, and thanked internally when you saw he was alright. After a while, his wings got smaller because of the number of feathers used, but he was still trying to help a civilian that was stuck inside her car.

Everything was happening so fast yet so slow, you could see everything that was happening in slow motion, thinking fast about what your next move should be. Help the scared kid? A cop was running to him. Fight with the white nomu? No, three heroes were fighting against it. And then you saw it. A big one was walking straight to Hawks, but he was too busy helping the man in the car he didn't notice it. The distance was getting narrower, so you ran, ran as fast as you could towards him.

''Hawks!'' You could scream.

But it was too late.

Everything happened within the same second. The gasoline that was spilled made contact with the fire, creating a deafening explosion, the fire blinding everyone's sight at the same time the nomu used his outrageous arm to hit you and send you flying, body crashing against pure concrete. Hawks tried to cover him at the moment of the explosion, but your voice made him turn around and see what was happening. He saw the exact moment when the nomu got rid of you, his senses panicking when he saw you crashing against the hard concrete wall, and then to the floor.

Another hero started fighting the nomu that attacked you, and other rescue heroes took care of the man trapped.

Everything was in slow motion again, this time for Hawks. He couldn't fly, he wasn't fast. He ran towards your moveless body, but his steps felt heavier by each second, he was praying you were ok, he wanted to see you getting up, moving. But that didn't happen. You were there, face on the floor, passed out.

''Y/n!'' He desperately called your name, turning you around to lay you on his lap ''come on kid, wake up!'' Hawks called, but you didn't hear his words. ''Hey, hey look at me. I need you to look at me for fuck's sake!'' Tears were forming in his eyes when he saw you were not responding. Blood was running down a corner of your mouth and your forehead, dust was all over and your eyes still closed.

He couldn't lose you. Not you. As he called your name, all the memories attacked him. Those nights at the commission when you cured his wounds, when you shared your food, the times he got flustered when you kissed his cheek for the first time, or when he got jealous when a kid two years older asked you out. Or when you were in your twenties and he saw you with a good looking civilian and felt jealous again. The laughs you shared, the sad times. Damn, he even remembered the first conversation you had, when you told him everything about your shitty past and he had offered you his Endeavor plushie for comfort. The nights you spent together till dawn or get caught by someone at the comission. How he felt weird when he went on dates with random girls, He didn't want to be with any of them. He wanted to be with you. Just you.

And the realization came like a storm. First the lighting in the middle of the night, everything that looked dark and confusing was clear. And then the loud sound of a thunder. It was love. Everything that he felt those years, every weird emotion. He was in love with you, and didn't get the chance to tell you.

He was on his knees, putting pressure on your wounds as he looked the chaos around him, begging for a doctor, or a fast hero that could take you to the hospital. For the first time ever, he felt helpless. However, a voice took him out his thoughts. A light of hope.

''Wing hero Hawks! I'm Ingenium from the UA, class 1-A. I can take them to the nearest hospital right now!''

He looked at the hero in a white armor, a student? He didn't have another option. He let the young hero take you in his arms. The engines on his calves lighted up and he went running. Damn he was fast, it could be a chance to save you.

When All Might arrived at the scene, things got calmer. And he used whatever means he had to get to the hospital in which the hero had taken you.

People looked at Hawks with curious eyes, he was looking desperate, looking for you everywhere and asking about you. He was about to lose his head when the same student arrived, this time no mask on.

''Hi, this is Tenya Ida from class 1-A, UA student'' He introduced himself again, this time properly ''They take them to surgery and said she should be out in an hour or a bit more''

Hawks thanked the kid, and gave an effortless pat on his shoulder beofre moving to the waiting room. One hour pass, then two, and then three. What the hell was taking so long? He was resting his elbows on his thighs and head on his hands. No one gave him information about you, and he could feel the tears dampening his cheeks. He loved you, he had loved you all along and now you might be gone forever. He wanted to hug you, kiss you, never let you go.

Hours seemed infinite, but then an exhausted doctor appeared in front of him. 'They're sedated' she said, explaining to him that you had lost a lot of blood, but that they were able to stop the bleeding from the different cuts, and organs.

Hawks felt like walking the long hallways of the commission when he sneaked to your room when you were kids, nervous, wanting to see you. But now? Now he was a man, and he knew that he loved you and craved to see you. To know you were ok. He got to the door, and doubted whether to enter or not, but he took a deep breath and did it.

You were laying on the bed, a machine helping you breathe and lots of needles and cables on your arm. Keigo's chest tightened at the image of you wounded, and even worse. You were in that state for saving him, and he was hating himself because of it.

Quietly, he sat down as he held your hand. His chin was trembling he was trying too hard not to cry. Using his free hand, he caressed your cheek and pulled a strand of your hair away from your face.

''Hey,'' he whispered ''I need you to wake up, ok? I... Need you here, with me. I'm nothing if I don't have you here'' His voice was broken, and he didn't even notice when the tears were running down his eyes again ''I swear I'll stop stealing your lunch, and I won't whistle or chirp on mornings because I know you get stressed'' Keigo let out a sad laugh ''There's so much I need to tell you, so please.'' He caressed your head again ''I won't go on dates with random girls anymore because I... Just want to be with you'' A sob left his lips, and he rested his forearms and head on the bed next to you ''I can even shave my so-called beard if you want to, but please... Wake up. Come back to me. Please, don't leave me'' His whisper was drowned in tears, Keigo kept sobbing by your side as the memories kept replaying on his head ''I love you, I fucking love you'' He finally let his feelings out among hurtful tears. He wanted nothing more than you to be ok.

Suddenly, his heart stopped. He felt the weight of a hand on his head, playing with his hair. He got up slowly, looking at you with red puffy eyes, but full of hope.

''y/n?'' He asked, heart beating fast.

''I like when you whistle in the morning'' You said slowly opening your eyes ''your stubble is cute'' a weak smile was on your lips, and he couldn't believe that your first words after almost dying were about him ''And I always pack up double lunch because I know you eat mine. That's why I get fried chicken every day'' At that day, he couldn't control the amount of tears escaping his eyes.

''I...'' A sob ''y/n I-'' you interrupted him with your weak raspy voice.

''I know, I heard you'' You nodded, feeling your eyes getting watery too ''I love you too, Kei'' You caressed his cheek. ''I've been in love with you since I was like... Fifteen'' you rolled your eyes and laughed weakly, making him laugh in the same way too.

''Sorry I didn't notice sooner'' He brushed your hair with his hand, and then whipped some tears, but the kee falling '' Don't you dare scare me like that again'' He chuckled lowly.

''Sorry'' You said ''Can I get a kiss for saving your ass once again?'' He couldn't help but laugh again, loving to see you with a good mood.

He leaned forward, his lips on yours were delicate, soft, and tender. Just his lips against yours, a bit salty because of the tears but none of you cared. You whined a bit because of the lack of air and the pain caused because the cut on your lower lip.

''Shit, sorry'' He pulled away, and then got closer again to kiss your forehead for long seconds as his hand was still on top of your head holding your hair. ''I love you, so damn much''

He sat on the chair next to the bed again, resting his head on his forearms one more time. You used the little amount of strength you had to play with his hair, scratching his scalp with soft fingers.

''I love you too, bird boy'' Tiredness was taking over you again ''This time you will have to patch me up'' You joked

''Always. I'll always will'' He sobbed one more time, closing his eyes. Loving your hand on his hair, and your voice. God, he could never be tired of listening to you. ''Try to get some sleep, ok?'' He said moving his head up again.

''Will you be here when I wake up?'' You asked. The same question you did when as kids, when Hawks lent you his bed so you could sleep there as he took care of your sleep from the other bed, not wanting you to get any nightmares.

''Yes, I'm not leaving you. I will be here'' He smiled at you, and after leaving another kiss on your forehead he rested his head on his forearms on the tiny empty space on the bed by your side.

He was not letting the love of his life alone. Not that night, or never.

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