#EVERY single time i draw him. i swear. its literally just these three things. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lukecastellandeservedbetter · 4 months

Text

22. Myth-takes Happen

2020 a/n: I’ve been sitting on this fic since Bring On The Monsters. But now I can finally... release the... *checks smudged writing on Luke’s hand* Karen.

2023 Edit: I’m finishing this series this year, I swear. It’s been a couple years since I’ve touched it, but going back to the ~source material~ I realized this could absolutely replace the crab thing they fight so this has been edited. JUST A REMINDER, I started this series prior to even the ANNOUNCEMENT that there would be a PJO show, let alone the casting. For continuity's sake, I will be sticking with the book descriptions, but just know that I adore the show casting and love every single actor on the show!

read the others!: Masterlist

“What in Hades name is that?” Piper asked incredulously as something emerged from the water, rocking the boat.

Luke and Percy had stumbled back up to the deck from the Med Bay, with an exhausted Jason at their heels. They looked at each other with wide eyes.

“Is that…”

“I think so.”

Luke looked back over the rail. “Isn’t it a Norse thing?”

“I didn’t even realize it was a real thing, I thought it was made up for the movie,” Percy pointed out.

“My gods,” Luke glanced at Percy for a moment before returning his gaze once more to the giant squid attacking a large whale. “I didn’t even consider Norse Mythos being real.”

“Well I mean,” Percy thought about it, ignoring their other friend's sudden objection to the monster. “If Roman and Greek mythology can coexist, I don’t see why Norse should be an issue.”

“Okay, so that’s a Kraken then.” He paused, really studying it. “Still think we can tag team that thing?”

“Oh yeah, totally,” Percy nodded. “Your speed and agility with my force and literal control of the ocean? We could have that thing dusted in no time.”

“Alright then,” Luke nodded, glancing around the ship. “Let’s get this figured out then.”

Leo was shouting orders that were lost on half the crew. At one point, Frank had stopped and turned to glare at Leo, which resulted in one of the tentacles catching him in the chest and throwing him overboard.

“Frank!” Percy shouted, his eyes wide.

“Percy, can’t you talk to it? See what it wants!” Annabeth ran over carefully, trying not to slip as water slowly flooded the deck.

Luckily, it seemed like the water was coming from the tentacles themselves, not the ship sinking, so they were fine.

For now.

Luke and Percy glanced at each other, jumping into action. Luke drew his blades, and Percy uncapped Riptide.

“So are we thinking battle plan three or seven?” Luke questioned, looking back at Percy.

“I’m pretty sure plan five will get the job done.” Percy shrugged.

“Plan five?” Luke raised his eyebrow, dodging and slicing at a tentacle that came at him. “I dunno man, it’s risky.”

“So is being a demigod.” Percy reminded him.

Luke couldn’t argue with that point.

Given that the Kraken wasn’t facing them head on, plan five was not holding up very well. The squid had Percy in its grasp in no time, and was reaching for Luke who barely dove out of the way.

“It’s not happy!” Percy shouted at Luke.

“I can see that, thank you Percy!” Luke yelled back, diving out of the way once more.

Percy turned Riptide and stabbed the tentacle, which promptly dropped him onto the deck. Percy groaned but got up quickly, drawing in power from the sea water that coated the wood.

“I have a plan!” Leo shouted. “Hazel, open that box!”

“The box you specifically have labeled as ‘Do Not Open’?” Hazel yelled back, staring at Leo like he was crazy.

“That’s the one!” Leo confirmed.

Luke glanced over and stopped dead in his tracks. He could see the familiar green glow from here, and for a moment he was back on another ship, fighting a different monster, frozen in his steps.

“Luke! Watch out!” Annabeth cried out, pulling Luke from his Greek Fire nightmare long enough to hit the deck before the Kraken could get ahold of him.

Jason flew down and helped Luke up quickly. “You and Percy thought you could tag team this?” He yelled over the rushing wind and aggressive waves.

“Ideally!” Luke answered, slicing at another tentacle. “We didn’t think we would actually come across one!”

Leo and Hazel were snatched by two more tentacles, and in a matter of moments they were gone, and the Kraken was dusted in a flash of green.

No one moved. No one spoke. Three of their friends were overboard.

Percy hopped over the edge of the ship to scour the ocean floor without a second thought. Luke helped Annabeth and Piper up, and checked what he could on the ship. Once again, he was brutally reminded that the Princess Andromeda was different then the Argo II, but he felt more useful than just standing around. He watched Jason fly up and put out any fires on the masts.

It was clear he was exhausted though, and it wasn’t long before he was losing air and coming back to the deck. Percy came back up for only a bite of ambrosia and a sip of nectar before he was throwing himself over the edge again to do another sweep.

Luke concentrated on the ship. It didn’t seem to be in danger of sinking anymore, which Luke called a win, but it was clear they needed some major repairs. He was no son of Hephestus, they wouldn’t be able to do anything without Leo. Sailing would be okay, but no one even considered making the suggestion they leave without the others.

“What was that back there?” Annabeth demanded.

“What?” Luke looked up from where he was retying some of the knots.

“Those plans you and Percy were shouting out, since when do you have plans?” She put her hands on her hips.

Luke turned back to the rope, his hands still. “Percy was doing math homework one day, and I- well, I’d never seen the stuff he was doing so he was trying to explain it to me and we came to the conclusion that the angles and stuff would work well for some set strategies.” He explained.

“You and Percy created set strategies?” Annabeth said incredulously. “And what was that about the Kraken?”

“It’s kind of like an inside joke. We watched this movie that had the Kraken in it and then a few days later, I dealt with this really awful woman at the shop and Percy called her a ‘Karen’ and I thought he meant ‘Kraken’ and…” He trailed off, feeling stupid as he recalled the story. “It doesn’t matter.” He said dismissively. “Look, I should finish checking the ship before Leo gets back,” He finished tying the knot.

“When did all this happen?” She followed him.

“I mean, I lived with them for almost five months before I came to find Percy.” He said, shifting uncomfortably under her gaze. “Sally was nice enough to get me a job so I could help out, and she offered to enroll me in night classes or something. I never ended up going, I don’t think it would be very helpful for me, but I dunno.” He crouched down to refasten a few of the weapons that got knocked out of place. “Percy said I should try building a life outside the Gods. He said it would be good for me.” Luke grunted as he finished quickly, moving onto the lower sails.

“How come neither of you told me any of this?” Annabeth demanded. “I could’ve helped with the strategies at least!”

Luke sighed and closed his eyes. “We didn’t think we would ever use them, they were hypotheticals that Percy used to teach me math.” He asked finally. “This isn’t fair, Annabeth, you can’t be mad at me for not telling you mundane things when you were the one who established that you didn’t want to know anything about what I was doing until recently.” He told her. “You had a good reason, I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t talk to me either.” He added. “Can we talk about this later?”

Annabeth sighed before turning on her heel and walking away, meeting up with Piper to send a message back to camp.

“I can’t find them,” Percy said, swaying on his feet.

“It’s okay Perc, take a break,” Luke motioned for him to sit. “They’ll come up eventually.”

Percy threw himself onto the deck beside where Luke was working. They sat in silence for a while, Jason joining them when he couldn’t bear to stay in the air any longer.

“What do I tell Nico?” Percy whispered.

Luke frowned and looked over to where Percy had his gaze on the sky.

“How do I tell him I lost his sister? Again?” He rubbed his eyes.

“Let’s worry about getting him back first,” Luke suggested. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Percy sighed.

There was a shout and a splash that caused all three of them to shoot up and run towards the side of the ship, where Piper had jumped over to join the three missing demigods. In an instant, despite their exhaustion, Jason and Percy joined them to get the four of them back onto the ship.

Luke looked to the sky.

He hoped they wouldn’t lose anyone like this again.

#pjo #luke castellan #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #hoo #percy jackson #luke castellan's second chance

3 notes · View notes

burnedbyshoto · 3 years

Text

for want of a bento box

– It’s plain and simple, you see, someone is stealing your bento boxes and you will find your lunch thief! Or, in which Todoroki Shouto keeps taking your bento box and you declare war.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, cursing, shouto is a bad chef, I believe I made reader pretty gender neutral but I whipped this out in two hours and I can no longer remember if I used any fem!pronouns but im pretty sure I didn’t

word count: 3,060

a/n: this is for the wonder coworker bnharem collab! I had intended on writing a completely different theme and storyline but was very overwhelmed by how much time it actually needed to be written compared to the amount of time I actually had. that version will be out another time! but for now, enjoy some pure flufffffff!!!!

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Having a normal, functioning, well-paying job was probably the most desirable thing to you. It wasn’t to say that you were slacking or that you were homeless, broke, and never to be seen again because you were that in debt. But it was nice having a job!

When you entered the prestigious Toshinori Company, you joined not as an entry-level job employee but as a senior representative. You thought it was crazy.

It had to be crazy.

You had no prior experience, and now you were going to be in charge and the lead in certain areas?!

“And that was the entire layout of the office!” Mina chirped happily, throwing herself onto the desk chair across from yours with a big smile. “Any questions?”

“I don’t think so,” you mutter, brows creased as you look around the room again.

The office space was ample, sleek, open. Each desk has its own grand computer that you currently could not afford with your own money, comfortable chairs, and beautiful wood desks. It was elegant, far superiorly fancy, and yet, you didn’t feel out of place. Strange.

“Oh!” you say with a roll of your eyes as you reach below your desk to bring up your packed lunch. “Where was the break room again? I need to refrigerate my food!”

“Omg, of course, come this way!” Mina grins, standing up and motioning you to follow her. You smile gratefully and do.

The entire way to the office, Mina takes the time to point at the many different people on the floor and give them names. Everyone so far had sort of acknowledged you earlier as Mina was giving you the official tour. Some were much more open and friendly, and some had sneers or blank stares that left you dumbstruck.

Definitely a personable group.

“Hm, well, I guess Todoroki-kun isn’t here today?” Mina mutters as you enter the break room that has couches and comfortable-looking chairs. “Such a shame! You would have loved to see the office hottie!”

You snort at that, lips curled into a granulous smile as you place your plastic container with food into the fridge. “I’m sure I’ll live,” you brush off the fact that there was an absent person on your floor today.

“That’s the thing, though,” Mina points a finger at you, a lone eyebrow raised and a confident smirk on her face. “You won’t be thinking that again the moment you see him!”

You laugh, eyes crinkling as Mina joins your laughter. Eventually, she motions for the both of you to leave, and you nod in understanding. And with a weird sense of comfort and belonging, you realized that this job was going to be good.

Eventually, you had been working at Toshinori Company for two months.

Sixty-two days to be precise, and in all that time, you had only met Todoroki Shouto once. Even then, you had only seen the man walking through the office with a blank face, fingers in his pockets as two other men were walking in front of him, bickering lightly.

Had Mina not quite literally thrown herself across the table and gripped the collar of your shirt and twisted your head to look at him, you would have never caught a glimpse at the man with red and white hair. The three of them walked into the break room and came back out with their own lunches before leaving.

And that was it.

You had learned that the three of them (Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Izuku, and Bakugou Katsuki) were within your department but worked very closely with the very high up members within the company. Many rumors pointed at one of the three taking over the company when the current CEO stepped down. They were, however, on the roster for your floor; they just never appeared except to pick up their lunches. Something they seemed to come to grab whenever you were a) way too fucking busy or b) not in the room.

You weren’t too bothered, though.

It wasn’t like you were trying to date one of them! You had only wanted to say hi.

Now, at ninety days, you had your first and probably most crucial evaluation.

Toshinori Yagi, the man who founded and currently ran this company, sat before you, looking at papers within a folder with tired but kind blue eyes. He nodded, impressed (hopefully), making small comments about the work you had been able to accomplish, a smile becoming a warming grin as he looked up.

“I’m impressed by the performance you’ve managed to attend to despite the short while you’ve been here, y/l/n-shojo,” Toshinori spoke, his fingers threading together and placing them onto the table. “I knew it was an excellent decision to put you in that position, and you exceeded my entire expectation!”

You flushed at that, lips twitching as you attempted to suppress that smile of yours.

“Thank you, Toshinori-san,” you practically wheeze as he waves off your thanks.

“No need to thank me, you’ve done all this work!” he laughs, tired eyes closing with a glorious supply of crow's feet blooming at the corner of his eyes. “Typically, at these evaluations, I ask a bunch of questions because there isn’t too much anyone can do in their first ninety days, I must admit.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm, but because I am curious, is there anything that has been happening as of late that you feel needs to be addressed with me?”

You felt yourself stiffen but knew your one and only complaint was not something to bring up in this setting.

“No, nothing,” you shrug, and Toshinori beams.

“I’m glad!”

Now, the problem.

The big, fat, stinky, hooligan, wanting to throttle someone problem.

For the past sixty of your ninety days, someone has been stealing your lunch.

Yes, you heard that correctly; someone was stealing your damn lunch! Every morning you woke up and prepared a delicious bento box for yourself. Some days you went as far as cutting shapes into your fruits and veggies just to make yourself grin. You weren’t the best chef in the world, but your bento boxes were pretty enough to make up for it, in your opinion. But the thing is, every day when you went into the communal fridge, you noticed two things.

One, your bento box was no longer in the same place, and two, the bento box was not yours at all.

The food was disastrously organized. Rice and lettuce spilling out in every partition in the box. The fruit and veggies often packed in this box had multiple cuts in them, implying that whoever did this was less than ideal with a knife. The meat was often oversalted, the sushi never sitting together, and everything was just… not it.

The first time you had sighed and eaten it, grumbling about how your precious lunch was stolen. But you had quickly figured out that it was inedible, and Mina, Uraraka, and Yaoyorozu thank god, offered to share their meals.

Seeing that you were distressed about how someone stole your egg and octopus sausages one day, Mina declared that they would watch the break room for whoever was stealing your light blue bento box. The first day you staked out, you had done it with Mina. But ten minutes into waiting around, you needed to pee. So you stood up and left in a hurry, leaving Mina alone.

But when you returned, Mina was gone, instead standing by Kirishima’s desk with a bright grin and a stance that screamed that she heard something she liked (gossip, possible in-office romance, a love confession?). Her jaw dropped as she noticed you and Kirishima had turned and waved in your direction as you raced into the break room to open the fridge, and sure enough, your bento was gone.

The next time, you staked out with Uraraka. Your arms were folded, your bladder cleared, and your lips twisted into a pout as you glared and stared down every single member who entered the room. Uraraka whispered to you her guesses about just who might be the thief, every other person rating an 8/10 likelihood of stealing your lunch.

But as the both of you sat there, your eyes narrowed at each passerby, no one came to collect your bento today.

“Deku-kun, no packed lunch today?” Uraraka asked as the green, curly-haired man you had only met once previously raced into the break room, grabbing the extra chopsticks meticulously hidden in the third bottom draw.

“Ah, Uraraka-san, y/l/n-san! Uh, no,” Midoriya greeted you both, who apparently responds to the nickname Deku, laughs off as he grabs a handful of napkins. “Todoroki-kun left all our lunches in his car by accident, and well… they spoiled… Kacchan’s pissed, so I ran off to get lunch for us today!”

Uraraka laughed, shaking her head, “Leave it to Todoroki-kun to act that way.”

Midoriya laughed, bright and clearly in agreement, “You should have seen his face when Kacchan asked for his lunch! I swear–”

“HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE TO GRAB FUCKING CHOPSTICKS, SHIT-KU! I’M FUCKING STARVING!” a voice roared from nowhere near the entrance of the break room. You did, however, jump a bit, eyes turning toward the break room entrance to see the blond man (Bakugou? Kacchan? You had no idea which was correct) near the entrance of the floor.

“It’s only been a minute, Kacchan, relax!” Midoriya laughs, completely unaffected by the startling shout as he waves goodbye to both you and Uraraka before leaving, joining Bakugou as the both of them seem to talk comfortably… well, maybe more like bickering.

“Why are they–”

“Childhood friends, apparently,” Uraraka sighed, but the smile on her face betrays her exasperation.

No one stole your bento that day.

Yaoyorozu took up the third stake out, the two of you idly chatting about tea. You honestly had no idea what to talk about with Yaomomo; she was often just so elegant and mature despite being your age. When you learned that her family was in charge of the Yaoyorozu Corp, it had been strangely easy to accept that.

It made sense.

So as the two of you stood at the kitchen sink, boiling water for tea Yaomomo swore would be the best matchup for your packed nigiri, the both of you missed the man who walked into the room, opened the fridge, and took your lunch.

“I… I am so sorry,” Yaomomo apologized, head bowed dangerously low as the both of you looked at the sloppily cut salmon in your not actual bento. “Please eat my food in reparation.”

“No, it’s okay,” you sigh, chewing on the somehow still warm salmon. “I deserved this loss.”

Luck was just on this man's side, it seemed. No matter what you did, you could never catch the man in action, and you were ready to give up.

But this was the last attempt you said to yourself as you returned to your office floor, the evaluation done, and the rest of your life coming to light. You could do this. No! You WOULD do this!

“Why don’t you just put your name on your bento box?” Bakugou asked, a lone eyebrow raised in what you could only assume was judgment and pity. The explosive man was standing in the doorway of the breakroom, watching as you and Mina were trying to climb up the counters of the breakroom to grab the camera you had previously planted. “Obviously, it doesn’t have your name on it.”

“Um,” you squeak, having been obviously caught by someone who intimidated you just the slightest bit. “That’s a good idea, thank you, Bakugou-san.”

“Tch, whatever, just clean up the damn counters, fucking nasty standing up on there. Some people prepare their food there.”

“We would never forget to do that!” you argue, desperate to not leave a bad impression on this man.

“I don’t know much about you, but I know raccoon eyes over there would.”

“MY NAME IS MINA!”

“Like I care.”

He left without so much as a wave but did seem to nod with his departure. You sighed as you hopped off the counter, Mina grabbing the cleaning supplies as she cursed out the long-gone man under her breath.

But you were looking at the fridge with your missing bento box.

“I can’t believe I never put my name on it.”

“It’s okay! Not even Yaomomo thought of it, so I say we are still smart!”

It was the next day, you were at your desk, anxious as hell as you did your work, trying not to focus on the fact that it was lunchtime and you were actively avoiding the break room. You wondered if they wouldn’t come and collect it today. If somehow they were an asshole and wouldn’t care if your name was on it! What would happen then? What if it was someone like Bakugou who was taking your lunch? What then? You were sure you would cave in slight fear and major intimidation if he said that your lunch was his now.

“Want a cutie while we wait, cutie?” Mina asked, waving the small tangerine in her fingers as she grins.

“Please,” you say in gratitude for the food because you were starving. “Thank you.”

Eventually, you lost track of what was happening, becoming all too invested in the conversation that Mina was telling you about that involved Kaminari, Kirishima, Bakugou, Midoriya, twenty-seven Red Bulls, fifteen Monsters, and five shots of sake. It seemed that the former two were quite big instigators when they wanted to be, and the latter two were unable to back away from challenges, especially when the other was involved.

“Y/l/n?” an unfamiliar voice called from behind you, and you turned partially in your chair as you looked behind you.

Standing behind you was a tall man with red and white hair, and from this distance, you noticed immediately that his eyes were a deep grey and brilliant blue.

Todoroki Shouto.

“T-Todoroki-san!” you greet him back, voice unable to keep from trembling as your nerves shot up. What was going on? You two had never interacted before! He was always gone, never present, and whenever he was in the office, it seemed that you weren’t there.

He cleared his throat and raised up two identical bento boxes.

“It seems… I have apparently been stealing your bento boxes,” he concludes, pressing the blue bento box with your name written on it into your hands.

Your jaw drops as your fingers curve around the cool plastic, eyes blinking up a storm as you try to abstain from laughing high pitched and ugly like.

“It was you?!”

A pink color blooms onto his cheeks as he averts his eye contact with you and nods slowly, “I am so sorry.”

“I just… how?!” you exclaim, exasperated, this man obviously being a bit dense if he had no idea he was taking your bento box!

“I prepare my bento boxes the night before, and I don’t really remember what I put into them….” Todoroki explains slowly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, his tongue clicking the roof of his tongue. “I just thought that my cooking was improving and that I was somehow doing an amazing job.”

The grin that overcomes your face is one of subtle, strange fondness and soft warmth. “I can tell you that you probably haven’t improved much,” you tease, opening your bento box to see your prepared meal for the day.

Cucumber salad, bulgogi beef, rice, and some fruit.

It was packed exactly how you remembered.

“I can’t believe I finally get to eat a meal I prepared,” you continue to tease, your eyes moving up to meet Todoroki, who was also looking at your bento previously. “Thank you for returning my meals and apologizing.”

“It was nothing,” Todoroki waved off with a single hand before opening up his own disastrously assembled bento box. It looked worse than usual today. Everything was just thrown in, it seemed. You saw egg and rice, but everything else in there was indescribable. He smiles at you before sighing at his bento. “This looks more like my stuff.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “You want to share my bento box? I’m sure you probably don’t want to return to that.”

“No, it’s okay,” Todoroki gently declined, although he looked at your bento with great want. He cleared his throat, gaze moving to lock on yours, and you swore his cheeks were still pink but no longer from embarrassment. “I just wanted to come and apologize for stealing your lunch for so long and to thank you for the meals; they were all delicious. Especially the soba you had made.”

“It’s all good; it’s in the past now,” you say gently, somehow finding yourself falling for a man you’ve barely just begun to talk with. The both of you stare at each other, and your skin feels warm. You chuckle, gaze averting for a moment before returning as you tease him. “Although, if you steal from me again, I’m not so sure if I’ll be so lenient.”

“It won’t happen again, promise,” Todoroki smiles, and you feel your spine melt. “But I would love to make it up to you somehow. I can make you dinner one night or something?”

You laugh, head shaking, “No, absolutely not; I don’t trust your cooking skills just yet. But you can definitely take me out to dinner.”

“Yeah, I can definitely do that,” Todoroki agrees, and the both of you fall silent as the shy stares continue. “Does, um… is Friday at seven okay with you?”

“That works,” you say, and Todoroki smiles.

“Good, I’ll uh, see you then?”

“See you,” you agree with a sweet smile before turning around, your fingers raised in a small wave.

You turn to see Mina, Uraraka, and Yaomomo staring at you, eyes comically wide and so very intrigued.

“Oh… my… GOD!” Mina shrieked as Todoroki walks away, and you shriek as she jumps across the table and shakes you, screaming about office romances and meet-cutes being entirely too underrated. “PROMISE ME I’LL BE INVITED TO THE WEDDING!!!!”

“MINA!”

It would take about three years of dating, several months of teaching Shouto how to cook, which resulted in a few bellyaches. Still, eventually yes, Mina would be invited to your wedding.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #mha

636 notes · View notes

marahuyos · 3 years

Text

how they kiss: genshin boys

*:･ﾟ✧ nothing much, just me describing how diluc, kaeya, childe and zhongli kiss. this piece is mostly just me trying to practice how to write kisses.

tw: slight suggestive themes, swearing, character story spoilers for childe, zhongli

✧ Diluc Ragnvindr

• A tentative flame-you don’t know whether it would spark and rise up in flames or die out in smoke, leaving nothing but a charred mess. That’s how Diluc is. You know he wasn’t good at this and he’s both thankful that you’re patient enough and annoyed that he couldn’t even muster a single kiss. At the start of your relationship, he is like a flame on a matchstick during a snowstorm. He burns but with how cold the world is, he fights to survive. With you, you are the closed space that blocks the harsh snow. You are the hands that cradle his flame ever so gently. He may be the one with the Pyro Vision but you warm his cold heart.

• His lips are slightly chapped but you’ll be lucky when you catch them moist, tasting of wine when Diluc taste tests new wines. When you do catch him with wine-flavored lips, you would press your lips against his with an excited grin on your mouth. With your sudden kiss, Diluc had to open his mouth to emit a gasp as you took the chance to slip your tongue inside his mouth. The taste of wine was stronger, your tongue slowly gliding over his own just to taste the sinful beverage. Your hands would grasp his shoulders, massaging the muscle that’s been way too tense. You think that you have surprised him from your impromptu kiss but Diluc is just as passionate as you are.

• Reaching around your back, he pushed you closer to him, chests bumping against each other as he began gaining control. He tilts your head, his ruby eyes staring at your surprised ones. He parts for a chance to breathe before diving back in to claim your lips again. The wine he tasted was still present on his lips but, combined with your taste, he was already getting drunk on the flavor. His nose nearly brushes against your cheek as he hears you mewl from his sudden outburst. His hands roam around your back, leaving warm tingles across your skin despite the layers of clothes. Before you two part for the next breath of air, he whispers into your lips how cheeky you are, his breathless voice making you swoon.

“You truly test my patience, love. Don’t think that I will back down once I’m through with you.”

✧ Kaeya Alberich

• As much as he’s cold to the touch, being a Cryo user and all, he is rather like the freshly fallen snow on a winter’s morning. Yes, it may bite your skin (also doesn’t help that Kaeya is a biter) but it also leaves you tingling after the cold shock response. That’s how he leaves you after kisses: shivering but wanting more as he chuckles on how cute and needy you are for him.

• He’s a charmer so it’s not an uncommon sight to see him with pampered skin and well-taken care of hair. So, as such, you bet that his lips are just as soft and plump (like his chest) because he always seeks out the best lip care. You’re jealous of the way his lips just shine naturally and how pouty they are every time he speaks. Your jealousy became a weapon for him, as he would always go beyond your personal space, making sure his lips are the focus as he smirks. And if that didn’t make you want to wipe the smug smirk off of his face, there was probably more teasing remarks that Kaeya would’ve used. You taste mint and hints of berry when you kissed his lips, swallowing in the chuckle that he emitted. His hand reaches around the back of your head as he tilts your head, deepening the kiss as he teases your lips.

• Remember when I said that he’s a biter? He would always nibble on your lips if the cold wasn’t enough for you. First, it was small kisses on your bottom lip then his teeth gently nibbling on it. He takes his time, making sure your lips are swollen before kissing you fully and letting the cold in your mouth. His one eye is open to see your closed ones, which clearly meant you were enjoying it. He chuckles against your lips before running his tongue along the roof of your mouth before parting away, a trail of spittle connecting your lips. His eye shined with wildly when he sees your dazed look.

“Clocking out already? We’ve only just begun, darling.”

✧ Childe/Tartaglia/Ajax

• There’s three ways on how Childe kisses-and it all really depends on who you’re talking to. In his years as a Harbinger and in his time wandering the Abyss with his teacher, the young man has garnered many a façade. He doesn’t just hand out his love for free-you must brave through his storm that he brewed for himself, the capsizing waves that swallows anything in its path. Only then will you see the eye of the storm and see Ajax.

• As Childe, you literally get what you hear. Childe’s kisses is, well, childish. Quick little pecks on your lips when he’s in a hurry, a loud, obnoxious kiss on your cheek, or him rubbing his nose softly against yours-all of those things are Childe. You can’t really tell if he was ever serious at all when he smirks playfully at your flushed face. As Tartaglia, this is the storm that you need to brave. He is a Harbinger for a reason and his kisses are just as ruthless. Overbearing, domineering, he makes sure that everything you see is only him. His lips glide over to yours before sinking his teeth on your lip until it’s swollen. His tongue would push in, teeth nearly clacking against each other as his hands grip your skin to the point of painful. As a warrior, he dominates, he conquers, and you were no exception.

• But as Ajax, sweet sweet Ajax, he’s none of those things. He lets go of Foul Legacy, he lets go of his weapons-in front of you, it is merely a young lad who grew up too fast too soon. He is the still waters, easily disturbed by any force, so you take his face between your hands as you initiated the kiss. First it was small pecks, then a pleasant plant of the lips against his before whispering against his lips that he is your home. What sounded like a choked cry died in his throat, as his own hands clutched your hips shakily as he draws you closer. His lips are surprisingly smooth, either from the Hydro Vision he’d been using or he’s taken heed to his older sister’s skincare. There was no danger, no tension, no ulterior motive each stroke of tongue you two share. Here, he is finally himself.

“I don’t know what god would give me someone like yourself, babe... But I’m grateful that you’re here.”

✧ Zhongli

• Morax, Rex Lapis, Vago Mundo... many names, many lives, many loves. Zhongli had such a long life of war, love, and everything that no one should’ve ever experienced. He is as long-standing as the earth (haha), never faltering, even with so much weathering. He should be as long-standing, there was no room for cracks, even as a mortal man. Yet, he seems like he didn’t know that you’ve already made several cracks across his heart and weathering him down to a man who is in love.

• His kisses are secure. Vanilla maybe, but you know that Zhongli is being a gentleman. With a hand under your chin to tilt up your face towards his, his thumb smoothly glides over your bottom lip before planting his lips against yours. He moves his lips against yours slowly, giving small pecks along the way, before diving back in. His other hand smoothly glides over your back before settling on your waist, pulling you closer. Meanwhile, your hands would softly tug at his ponytail, making the gentleman shiver as he gives a warning pinch to your waist for being cheeky.

• But there are times when that gentlemanly face breaks through. Most of the time it may be Venti getting him drunk. In this moment, he remembers that he was a ruthless god who formed this land from his own hands. He is the god of contracts and if you wanted it rougher, then he expects to hold your end of the bargain. Excuse my sudden twist, but I am a firm fuckin believer of dragon Zhongli and ya’ll can pry his elongated, forked tongue swiping across your lips before slithering inside your mouth off of my cold dead hands. His fangs threatening to bleed your lips... unless you wanted it, then who is he to oblige? His clawed fingers poking holes through your clothes as more skin is accessible to his scaly hands. There is no escaping this contract.

“My treasure, you created this contract. Now you must abide to the conditions.”

824 notes · View notes

enhypensimp1 · 3 years

Text

First Time nsfw

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

↝first time with sunghoon

↝warnings: mentions of pressure and mental abuse, indicated physical abuse, smut, explicit language

↝word count: 1.9k

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

You and Sunghoon had been best friends for three years having met on the rooftop of your school after finding out it was both of your favourite spots to have lunch. Ever since that morning in spring you guys had been inseparable, practically attached at the hip. You had definitely heard rumours of people speculating whether or not you guys were actually a couple, but you knew that the friendship you had with him was too special to jeopardise.

So, when you found yourself completely helpless and in need of someone to talk to you felt Sunghoon was your only option. It was 2am when you ran out of your now ex boyfriends house and drove to Sunghoons house not thinking straight after what had happened. Rain was pouring down hitting the windows of your car while you drove slightly over the speed limit, tears streaming down your face as the grip on your wheel tightened slowly breaking down in your seat.

You pulled up to his driveway, getting drenched on your way up the stairs until you reached his door, your hand lingering, debating whether or not you should knock or turn around and go back home not wanting to be a bother to Sunghoon. But you knew you were in no state to keep driving so you knocked. Something broke on the other side of the door and you could hear Sunghoons frantic footsteps on running around trying to get to the door.

His eyes grew wide when he saw you soaking wet, your tears mixed in with the rain and his heart clenched at the sight of you. After a minute of staring, he came back to his senses and ushered you into his house running down the hall quickly to grab you some towels and putting the heater on. He wrapped it around your shoulders pulling you into his chest and you couldn’t help but sob making a wet circle pool on his shirt.

Worry was laced in his voice bombarding you with questions, “what the hell were you thinking its 2am you shouldn’t be driving alone this late! What happened? Who did this to you? Do you need something?”

You calmed down, his hand softly caressing your hair making you feel slightly at peace and he dragged you over to his room, handing you his hoodie and sweatpants to change in to since all of your clothes were soaked, telling you to sit down.

“Please just tell me what happened” his eyes softened at you.

“I was at y/bf/n house and he had been drinking a lot and you know how he gets when he drinks, so when I tried to get him a glass of water to calm him down, he pushed me against the wall… trying to remove my clothes. We’ve never done that before and he was being kind of aggressive, so I told him to stop. But then he got angry, started calling me names, which isn’t e big deal because he does that all the time. I had to push him away when he tightened his grip around me and that’s when he lost it and threw the glass at the wall, so I ran out and… now I’m here.” You were so done crying all you could do was stare at Sunghoons now flaming eyes.

“What the fuck y/n. And you decide to tell me this now?! Why have you stayed with him for so long? I swear to God ill kill him.” His jaw was clenched, and his hands were curled into tight fists. All you could do was stare at him. You didn’t have a good answer and he knew you didn’t which only made him angrier.

“Do you think its normal for him to call you names and treat you like shit? That guy is a complete ass and you just let him string you along! Why would you let him do that when you could have someone who cares about you so much it hurts? Someone who wouldn’t even let a fly hurt you. Someone who loves you!” He was shouting now.

You were getting frustrated, he thought it was so simple when really you stayed with that asshole was because you felt like he was your only option.

So, you challenged him, scoffing “oh yeah? Like who- “

“LIKE ME.” He cried out interrupting you.

You walked up to him and slowly put your hand on his cheek looking into his eyes and for a second you almost couldn’t believe how you hadn’t noticed it before. The way he looked at you with stars in his eyes, as if you were his life and entire future. You would be lying if you said you didn’t get butterflies every time he smiled at you and gave you a hug, but you knew you had never seen him look at anyone the way he looked at you.

You closed the gap between the two of you attaching your lips to his feeling his hand snake around your neck as he moved his lips against yours deepening the kiss. It was gentle yet filled with so much love and it took your breath completely away. “I love you too” you whispered inches away from his lips and he moved in again in a slow and passionate kiss, his touch feather like against yours snaking his arm around your waist and using the other one to hold cheek and jaw. You gripped the hairs on the back of his neck pulling him impossibly closer using the small moan he let out to slip your tongue in pushing him against the wall.

Things were getting very heated and your hands moved to lift his shirt over his head admiring his toned body before leaving a trail of kisses down his neck. He took your face forcing you to look at him. “Baby we don’t have to do this now you’ve had a rough day.” But you knew the second you looked into his eyes earlier that he was the only one you would want to do this with.

“It’s okay I want to” you replied softly, sincerity laced in the way you looked at him. He picked you up making you wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bed laying you down gently. You discarded of the hoodie he gave you throwing it to the corner of the room, and he began to pepper kisses on your jawline while his hand softly caressed your hips basking in the feeling of your skin. He couldn’t believe he finally had you all to himself.

You lifted your hips so he could help you take off your pants, sliding the down your legs to reveal you in just your underwear. “You’re so pretty” he whispered, looking down at you and you couldn’t help but giggle. He bent down spreading your legs to trail kisses on the inside of your thighs loving the small noises that came out of your mouth from the contact. He ripped the panties off you startling you.

“Sunghoon those were new” you shrieked. “I’ll buy you all the underwear you want love” he flashed you a charming smile showing his adorable fanged teeth. He moved his finger between your folds, wetness dripping onto it. He wrapped his lips around your bud biting down on it lightly making your body jerk releasing a loud moan. He looked up at you for a moment grinning” tonight is all about you princess” before licking a long strip between your slit.

Your hands flew down tangling themselves in his hair shuddering underneath him from the pleasure loving the way his warm tongue was hitting your clit. He leaned up wiping the corner of his mouth, taking your hand in his and intertwining your finger together before pressing a tender kiss to your mouth the taste of you still prominent on his lips.

He finally got rid of his pants freeing his bulge from the tight constriction. All you could think was how he’s never looked better in your eyes. Hair messy from the way your hands were tangled in it, lips slightly swollen from sucking on your bud and sweat running down his chest from pure arousal and anticipation.

“Don’t look at me like that you’re going to drive me crazy”.

He placed one hand next to your head, the other reaching down to line himself with your entrance.

“Are you sure you want this?”

“Sunghoon please for the love of God just fuck me” He chuckled at your response, pushing himself all the way in in one go, stilling completely to let you adjust to his size.

He placed one hand next to your head, the other reaching down to line himself with your entrance.

Tears pricked your eyes at the sudden stretch and pain that shot up between your legs. He leaned down kissing your tears away, running a hand through your hair while he whispered the sweetest things in your ear. When you told him he could start moving he would start slowly, scared of causing you any more pain. His thrusts were slow but went so deep allowing you to feel every single inch of him inside you each time making you moan his name over and over again. You moved your hips to meet his thrusts, your eagerness riling him up even more as he spread your legs wider to get even better access and go deeper.

His dick was already twitching in your tightness unable to hold back the low groans that escape him. He buried his face in your neck nipping at the skin on your shoulder, reaching his hand to draw circles on your bud, making you instantly close your legs around his waist arching your back off the bed pressing your chest against his while he picked up the pace feeling your walls clench around him. Your sweaty bodies stuck to each other, but you were feeling such bliss you couldn’t have cared less, your mind only focusing on Sunghoons lips on your neck and him buried inside you.

Your nails dug into his forearm, clenching around him more frequently, a tight knot beginning to form in your abdomen as you felt your release nearing. He focused all of his energy on your pleasure, he pulled all the way out of you with every thrust, snapping his hips harder into you hitting a spot that made your legs shake around him feeling a wave of pleasure completely take over you and cloud your mind.

You flipped him over, still inside of you, trying to coax him to reach his own high knowing he was near by the way he pulsed violently in you. He thought you looked beautiful before, whining and writhing underneath him but this new view, watching clearly how your mouth hung open and how you bounced on him, he felt like he was literally in heaven. Without any warning he gripped your hips and came twitching slightly letting the orgasm wash over him.

You slowly climbed off him falling back on the bed exhaustion taking over you. After Sunghoon cleaned you both up giving you some of his fresh clothes he took you to the kitchen to make some ramen for a midnight snack realising you probably hadn’t eaten in a while. You sat on a stool watching his broad shoulders from behind before sneaking up on him, wrapping your arms around him. He blushed lightly, turning you around to give you a sweeping kiss smiling against your lips.

“Thank you Sunghoon this was perfect”.

“You’re perfect”.

And to him you really were perfect.

#enhypen #enhypen blog #sunghoon #park sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen smut #smut #sunghoon smut #enhypen suggestive #suggestive #kpop hard hours #kpop smut #kpop suggestive #idol x reader #sunghoon x reader #friends to lovers

183 notes · View notes

peachysnzs · 3 years

Text

genshin snz headcanons

i caved here are literally All my genshin snz headcanons cause im thinkin so hard rn

albedo

def sneezes in fits but tries to stifle whenever possible

uses his elbow most of the time, but sometimes when hes especially deep in a fit he ends up just sneezing desperately in the air

quiet and breathy

tries to make his sneezes as discrete as possible but the further in fits he gets, the more desperate his sneezes sound

every time he has a buildup to a sneeze, he kinda just shudders leadin up to it yknow

he always tries to be cautious and not get anyone sick when he is sick bless him

ok this fucker inhabits an ice mountain theres no way he doesnt get at least a *couple* colds

mona

sneezes in likes twos, threes

this is so unoriginal bcs hydro vision but like her sneezes are def at least a bit wet-sounding

uses tissues when avaliable, but if not she just kinda turns to the side

loud and high-pitched

she sneezes relatively suddenly and it takes her by surprise sometimes

tbh mona feels like somebody who’d have allergies and being all sniffly and miserable looking and still try to deny that shes allergic to anything and that youre stupid for thinking so. very tsundere.

speaking of sniffly her nose probably just constantly runs like a tap when shes sick

she wouldnt even try to keep her germs to herself and would be disgusted at sick ppl even if she was the one to get you sick

hu tao

literally almost never sneezes* but when she does its singles

uses her elbow and covers her mouth, ty hu tao for being a good snz role model

kinda low and naturally soft

long ass fucking buildups! her nose just kinda itches for a whole two minutes and her breath wavers before she sneezes quickly

so for the asterisk * i kinda lied, she sneezes up a storm only when sick, she has kinda a subpar immune systme so whenever shes sick she just is stuck with sneezng consistently through the whole day til shes dizzy

jean

also sneezes in singles, occasional doubles

alternates between using hankerchiefs if avaliable or just her elbow

i feel like jean is the type of person to like excuse herself right before succumbing to a fit

small sneezes, decently graceful

i feel like shed had a dust allergy honestly

jean literally will not take sick days even when she has awful colds, and while she tries not to get ppl sick she does a kinda awful job at it

amber

two to four usually

elbow once again, but sometimes when shes gliding she cant really use her arms so she just sneezes in the air

squeaky def, high pitched

she def has hayfever and one day opens her glider and its just covered in pollen

no build ups to her sneeze, just a sharp inhale and then the snz

eula

we already saw her snz so

either single sneezes or long ass fits, no inbetween

sneezes into her gloves, but when her sneezes start to get messy she switches to a hankerchief

breathy and feminine

cyro characters get colds cause i say so

no fr tho eula just miserable w a cold and just constantly having to duck foward and sneeze into her gloves

half of her cold is her denying shes sick even when she looks absolutely horrible and the other half is complaining about how miserable she feels and demanding people to do things for her

childe

doubles usually

he sneezes into the air or in his hands this fucker would never sneeze in his elbow

messy and desperate

long! ass! fucking! buildups! he tries to hide the hitching with his builds ups but hes not at all good at it

his sneezes get so much messier the sicker he is, until hes practically just dripping

dont be decieved by the way he hides being sick, he desperately craves being coddled whenever hes sick because of his home life

suprisingly good at caretaking

diluc

triples and quadruples i feel like

elbow primarily, but sometimes uses tissues

loud and rough

he tries so hard to hide his allergies but it never works because his sneezes are always so loud

fuck it give him all the allergies

his voice gets stuffy so quickly when even in like a five foot vicinity of flowers, and his nose itches so much to the point where it feels like hes just constantly building up to another sneeze

has probably sneezed on someones drink at least once while he had a cold

kaeya

almost only fits and he fucking hates it

he usually pinches his nose to stifle but if he cant manage he either quickly goes for the elbow or just ducks his head down and sneezes towards the floor

shaky and itchy-sounding if that makes sense

yknow that little gasp people do sometimes before sneezing i feel like hed do that

never takes sick days unless forced to by jean or diluc, and ends up shambling through his daily tasks shaky and feverish and sneezy

he tries to stifle but it really does not work

rosaria

singles, and if u catch her sneezing she’ll probably make you swear to silence

literally just in the elbow

honestly i feel like shed sneeze like a kitten, or just really high and femme

she sees being sick/allergic as a sign of weakness so fights sneezing very hard. like u can see the visible effort she makes pinching her nose and shit after her breath hitches even once

also one of those dumbasses that stifle way too much and doesnt take sickdays

ningguang

doubles unless shes allergic, then its fits

she has a fancy ass lace hankerchief she carries w her speficially for snzs to look ‘proper’

she forces her sneezes to be elegant, sneezing naturally is loud tho

small buildups but v audible breaths building up to a sneeze

she has a good immune system but when she does get sick she gets it bad and tries to cover up her flushed face and red nose with makeup

without people around her she just lets herself be miserable while sneezes, lettting out small little “..guh...” after a particularly bad fit

beidou

doubles or triples

beidou would also like never use her elbow, shed sneeze in her fist even if the sneeze is messy as hell

loud and proud of it

look all im saying is beidou is a walking health hazard whenever sick, she doesnt try at all to keep colds to herself and can and wil sneeze into her hand only to shake yours seconds later

no buildups, just sudden sneezes that scare the shit out of people tho

very very fucking messy

half the time does not care if shes sick, she doesnt really feel like she needs to take sick days because she doesnt feel that bad and stuff like that

lisa

singles and occasional doubles

she keeps tissues on her and uses them relatively often

delicate and proper

the idea of lisa having a dust allergy is just everything to me, like she blows off dust from a book and ends up stuck for a few minutes with her nostrils flaring until she finally sneezes desperately into a tissue

rarely gets sick, but when she does milks the hell out of it to be as lazy as possible. like “oh im feeling so awful rn, maybe a kiss will make me feel better?~”

venti

fits fits fits

hands or elbows, really depends on how hard the sneeze hits him

decently loud and a bit high pitched

look venti is an anemo god all im saying is when he sneezes the wind picks up, and when he has fits its enough to push you over

to remedy this he just avoids everyone when sick and avoids cats with a a passion

buildups are very breathy and desperate

his nose runs so much near cats and he makes a godddamn mess of himself the longer hes around them

cats absolutely love him regardless

xiao

he gets fits only bcs i say so

literally either just the air or his hands because nobody ever taught him that he should like cover his mouth properly when sneezing

quiet but messy

the idea of xiao w just torturuous buildups does something for me. he’ll be stuck there w his breath hitching and hazy eyes for like a whole minute before he finally just ducks into his hand and makes a mess of himself

he does not understand being sick and absolutely hates it when he does get sick, 100% tries to power through it and ends up a fucking mess by the end of the day

his sneezes get stuck so often

his nose gets so fucking flushed and twitchy after a while of sneezing

ganyu

doubles or triples

sneezes in her elbow most of the time

soft and low

when she gets sick she gets so sleepy, her sneezes just kinda draw all the energy outta her and she usually ends up taking a nap

shes allergic to dogs too bcs why not

she doesnt want to bother people when sick or get them sick too so she usually takes copious sickdays until shes absolutely certain that she cant get anyone sick

zhongli

triples literally always for some reason

either into his fist or into a hankerchief

low and masculine, a bit loud

doing the same god shtick with him, the floor tends to shake whenever he gets particularly sneezy and stuff on cupboards can and will fall over when in the vicinity

no buildups really, hell just be in the middle of talking and then he blinks a bit and then sneezes roughly

he doesnt really take sick days but he doesnt really deny hes sick either, just kinda tries to get through the day despite feeling awful

#g/enshin i/mpact #sneeze kink #snz #sneeze headcanons #damn this took a while #i played favorites w x/iao and m/ona honestly #its my personal goal now to write every g/enshin character snzing at least once in a fic

99 notes · View notes

mollygetssherlockcoffee · 4 years

Text

For You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Y/N waits all night for Spencer to come home

Warnings: Angst... maybe swearing, but I honestly can’t remember

Words: 2,451

A/N: My LPC and Masters are kicking my ass... I hate it here :)))))))

PART TWO HERE PART THREE HERE

Master List Permanent Tag List

Shoving the last Dorito in your mouth, you leaned off the couch to grabbing your phone from the coffee table. Your thumb swiped across the screen to accept the call. Muting the TV, you sat up and put the call on speaker, smiling as you heard his voice.

“Hey, Y/N/N” Your boyfriend of three years greeted you.

“Spencer” you smiled into the phone, more than happy to hear from him. “I didn’t speak to you yesterday, I missed you.”

“Yeah, sorry, we caught a break in the case” he apologises. “Did you know, only ten-point-seven percent of murders are committed by women, who tend to kill for reasons such as personal gain or jealousy. Our unsub actually went against the statistic.”

“So, you caught them then?” you asked, biting your lip to conceal your hope.

“Yeah, yeah, we did!” he confirmed, and you were sure that he was nodding. “We’re at the station at the moment but we should be leaving soon. I’ll be home around-” There’s a moment of pause while you assume he looks at his watch. “Around seven, seven-thirty. Definitely no later than eight.”

“Oh, Spencer, that’s great!” you grinned, standing up from the couch. “This week has dragged by without you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon” he assures you. “I have to go though, there a bit of paperwork that needs to be finished before we can leave.” “Okay, no worries. I love you, bye” you say.

“See you soon, love you” he hangs up.

You turned of the TV and quickly got to work cleaning the apartment. It wasn’t dirty, not really, but your breakfast dishes were in the sink and you didn’t take the trash out last night. You had also neglected putting away the laundry and had thrown your coat and bag over the back of a chair, rather than hang them up.

Coming home to an empty apartment had demotivated you this week, making you not bother to keep up with the little things. Though you always missed Spencer when he was away on cases, this week had been especially trying.

You hung your coat up, moving your keys into the little bowl by the door. The laundry was seen to next, the tops separated and hung up while the pants were neatly folded and placed in the draws. Plates were quickly cleaned and dried, put into their place. You wiped down the sides, brushing the crumbs into the bin before quickly running the trash out.

Coming back into the apartment, you washed your hands before moving to the fridge. Having only went shopping a few days ago, it was still well stocked, and it had all the ingredients for Spencer’s favourite meal.

You had grown up with a dad who loved to cook, who had wanted to be a chef. Due to his severe eczema, which he used to tell he had to be ‘wrapped up like a mummy’ for, he was unable to pursue his passion. As such, he had cooked delicious meals at home for you and your mom, passing on recipes and filling you with a passion for food.

Cooking was something you found relaxing. You knew enough recipes by heart to not follow a recipe, but, instead, a pattern within your mind. You could cook your favourite dish without the need to measure herbs or spices, mind zoned out while you prepared the ingredients.

When you had began dating Spencer, he was basically living on coffee with the occasional take-out. Within two months of your relationship, his freezer was fully stocked with frozen home-cooked meals. While his slim physique remained, he did gain a healthy amount of weigh and appeared to look healthier.

It hadn’t taken you long to find out that his favourite was a slow roasted rack of lamb, with rosemary roasted potatoes, butter roasted carrots, broccoli, peas and mash potatoes. You had served the roast lamb at Easter, where Spencer proceeded to spend nearly thirty minutes telling you about the origin of eating lamb at Easter.

“It’s actually related to the Jewish Passover, from when the Egyptians painted lamb’s blood on doors during the plagues of Egypt. When some Jewish people converted, they caried on the tradition. In fact, in Christianity, Jesus…”

Coming from a diverse background (various religions were practiced in your family, some married and converted, others converted, an adopted cousin kept practicing his religion, thus you celebrated many different religions) you knew the some of what he was saying. However, you loved to hear Spencer talk.

Spencer could talk about anything and you would listen. You loved to hear his voice; the way his voice became higher when he got excited. You liked to lean back against the couch, your feet in his lap as he read to you. His voice lulled you into a calm and relaxed state, it put your mind at peace and made everything seem right in the world.

You cleaned the lamb, patting it dry with paper towels become setting it on the chopping board. You trimmed the fat, leaving only a small layer which would cook and add flavour to the meet. Pouring a tablespoon of oil into your hands, you gently rub it into the lamb before adding the spices, careful not to overwork the meat.

The meat was transferred into a dish before moved into the hot oven.

You then moved onto the vegetables. You coated par-boiled potatoes with oil, salt, pepper and rosemary become adding them to the oven. Carrots were peeled and cut, put into a tin-foil bowl with a teaspoon of butter and a sprinkle of sugar. Folding the tin-foil closed, you slid that into the oven too.

Potatoes were peeled, chopped and put on to boil. You cut the broccoli into smaller pieces and add them to a pot and put them onto boil too. Peas remained in a saucepan, covered in water, but you would turn them on in a little while.

You grabbed the latest Doctor Who DVD that Spencer had brought the week previous. You put the first disk into the DVD player and set the box beside the TV. Leaving the screen on the menu page, you left the room and went for a shower.

You looked at the clock again.

20:37

You sighed and looked down at your food which was damn near cold. Your stomach rumbled and you picked up your fork. You weren’t going to wait any longer. While the food is delicious, you don’t enjoy it. You don’t focus on the flavours as you chew and swallow, your mind focused on your thoughts.

Where was Spencer?

You had called his phone multiple times, but it had just rung out. You had called JJ, but she had left work before him. When you had phoned his work and spoken to his boss, Hotch had told you that Spencer had already left for the evening, and suggested you call Derek as they left together. Just like Spencer’s phone, Derek phone had rung out too.

Finishing your food, you took your plate to the sink. Rising the plate, along with the pots and pans, you then filled the sink with bubbly water. Grabbing the sponge, you began to clean.

Your mind was torn on whether to be worried or not. One the one hand, Spencer had said he’d be home – you checked the clock – over an hour ago but he still wasn’t here. He wasn’t at work and he wasn’t answering his phone. You bit your lip. Anything could have happened to him. There could be a problem with the subway, maybe he got injured on the way home, or something else could have happened.

Spencer’s an FBI agent though and is licenced to carry a gun. Not to mention, he’s a literal genius. If he got into trouble, you had no doubt that he would either be able to get himself out or be able to contact someone to raise an alarm.

Your mind told you that he was with Derek, that they were together and gotten distracted one way for another. They were like brothers, and easily got carried away and forgot about the time.

Spencer had to be fine. He had to be.

Hanging his bag on its hanger, Spencer closed the door. He toed off his shoes, pulling his arms from his cardigan. It had been a long night, a long week, in fact, and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed. He smiled at the thought of crawling into bed and curling around you, of cuddling into you and breathing in your scent as he fell asleep.

Spencer used to love going on cases but after he met you, that changed. Now, he wanted to get them over and get home as soon as possible. He missed you every moment he was gone. He missed waking up with you, with your toes pressed into his leg as you sought out his warmth. He missed reading to you in evenings, gazing at your peaceful face as he spoke the words from memory. He missed the kisses before bed, the giggles you’d make when he would tickle your side as you both laid beneath the duvet.

He walked down the small hallway and into the open-plan living room and kitchen. The first thing his eyes land on is the small dining table. His mouth parts a little as he looks at the single plate of food, a knife and fork beside it. it was his favourite meal but he knew it was stone cold, yet he remembered the taste and his mouth watered at the sight.

You had cooked for him.

His stomach began to twist as he turned towards the front room. The TV was on, displaying the menu for a DVD from his new Doctor Who collection, whose box sat beside the TV. Then he saw you, sitting on the couch and watching him.

His stomach dropped. You had been waiting for him. You had cooked him his favourite dinner, put on his favourite show and were waiting for him. He had told you he would be home by eight, and it was nearing one-thirty in the morning. The guilt in his stomach twisted like a knife as you stood up.

He knew you were mad; he could see it in the hard set of your jaw. He could also see the sadness swimming in your eyes as you looked at him. He had let you down, and he knew it wasn’t something you were easily going to forgive him for.

“You said you’d be home at eight” your voice was low, soft, but he could hear the sadness in your words.

“Yeah…” he agreed, he had said that. He had promised that.

“Where were you?” you asked. “I was worried, you didn’t call or anything.”

“Erm… Derek, he…erm… wanted to go to a bar” Spencer replied, looking down at his mix matched socks.

“So you went? You went, knowing that I was here, waiting for you” you shook your head, looking away from him in an attempt to hold back your anger. “You went to a bar with Derek, after telling me you would be home by eight? You didn’t even let me know! I’ve been waiting for you, Spencer, I cooked you dinner and everything.” “Y/N… I’m sorry” he reached out to you but you held up your hand, taking a step back.

He had gone to a pub. A pub. He didn’t even have the decency to call you, or even text, to say that he wasn’t going to be coming home when he said. He had left you to wait for him, to worry for him. And though you’ve hurt, you’re angry. Angry that this is the way he is treating you. He doesn’t even like pubs, so why would he leave you to go to one?

This isn’t the first time he’s done this either. He had done the same thing a month ago, just went out with his team after telling you that he’d be home for dinner in an hour. You had fell asleep on the couch waiting for him that night.

“You always do this to me” You shook your head, looking at him in disappointment. And, looking at your face, Spencer thought that was worse that seeing you angry.

“What?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Abandoning me, you do it all the time!” You say. “You get called on a case and you don’t tell me, you leave me waiting at a restaurant. Stood up. You don’t tell me when your cases get extended, you tell me you’ll be gone two days but its six.”

“Y/N-” he begins, but you quickly cut him off.

“I don’t mind you going to clubs with Derek. I’m fine with cancelling plans because of work, I don’t mind that you’re called away” you tell him. “However, you don’t communicate with me. You stand me up, all the time. You don’t even call, and I’m tired of it. I did this for you Spencer.” You spread your arms out to gesture at the food and TV. “I try to do stuff for you and it goes to waste. Dinner reservations, movie nights, personal museum tours. They could have been rescheduled or the deposits refunded, if you had spoken to me. I… I’m tired of this Spencer. A relationship can’t work without communication.”

Spencer’s mouth is dry at your words, his own eyes stinging as he gazes sadly at your face. He can see how much it has affected you, how hurt you are but his actions. You were right though, he never called or texted you to let you know he wouldn’t be there for any of those things. His mind played over your words and his stomach twisted as the final sentence registered in his brain.

“What are you saying?” his voice is scratchy as he forces the words out, his fists clenched as he struggles not to cry.

“Maybe… Maybe we should take a break… for you to consider whether you can be committed, in all aspects, to this relationship” your voice is quiet as you answer him, your own eyes swimming with tears. “I’ll sleep in the spare room tonight, and then tomorrow… Well, Natasha said that I Could spend a few nights at hers.”

Spencer watched as you turned away from him, walking towards the spare room. You didn’t look back as you closed the door, and, finally, the tears fell from his eyes. This was it, he had lost you because he failed to do the most simple thing in a relationship. You were leaving him.

Permanent Tag List: @sskhair @sammypotato67 @spencerreids-wife @yoongi-holland @bucky-babygirl @youareperrrfectls @alexxcorona113 @tired-draculina @rachelxwayne @itsmoony @shigarakis-fifth-hand @andreasworlsboring101 @fantasticalfuchsbau @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @ourmrswonderlandlove @loverboyreid @kburgenstein

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer x reader #spencer x you #spencer x y/n #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid angst #i'm back to ruin your life

304 notes · View notes

randomshenaniganery · 3 years

Text

If I somehow got into Obey me! Shall We Date part 2

Me and Levi while videoing Solomon: I wanna be the very best like no one ever was, to catch them is my real test to train them is my caUSe. My whole life was meant for this gonna show the wORLLD!!

M: Horny bastard literally and figuratively

M: So like for science do you have complete control over that tail? The fandom deems this as important knowledge

M: BARBATOS PLEASE COSPLAY AS SEBASTIAN MICHAELIS-yeah I know I call you him a lot but like PLEASE

M: Kuya from Ayakashi Romance Reborn is just what happens if you smush Beel and Belphie into one person

M: Beel... Look at your wings... They’re tiny... If you can actually fly I will single handedly try to murder God.

M: I don’t understand why you’re mad with all these pregnant jokes, I MEAN YOU GUYS TOLD ME THIS INFORMATION and think that I won’t use it????

M: Heaven is pretty controversial not gonna lie

M: Luke you are a baby not just cause your smol but because you think like a baby

M: HEY remember what I said about racism? Knock it off

M: Why do you like me? Like honestly just WHy

M: LMAo who thought that leaving me alive was a good idea

M: Levi I blame you for making me say LMAo outloud I used to only say lol or IDK

M: I do have a least favorite brother but I’m not telling who because it would cause the same problems saying who my favorite brother is

M: YOU FAKE MOTHERFUCKERs

M: Sometimes I think I’m more of a demon than you guys are

M: I made a meme I think I’m going to die after this but I’m going to be very proud about dying and then I’ll see you later cause bitches know I’m going to end up in hell anyway

M: Is this real life? or is this fantasy?

Me and Levi still videoing Solomon but now we’re all dancing and singing: Gotta catch’em all-gotta catch’em ALL POKEMON

M: Satan for confirmation are you or are you not a furry? wait no put that knife down-

M: Beel please be my model for this drawing I have thanksiloveyoubye

M: Beel is definitely in my top three faves list you just have to figure out WHERe he is in that list

M: Levi I fucking told you to stop GATEKEEPing

M: What the fuck are you listening to Lucifer

M: I legit can’t listen to 40% of the songs I have in my playlist because they mention demons and I’m too embarrassed to listen to them now

M: Levi please let me sleep in your tub it honest to God looks so comfy-stop making faces when I mention God you KNOW that I’m atheist

M: Asmo hi please do my nails idk self care who dat bitch

M: ugh I have feelings and I HATE It

M: Am I a kuudere or a tsundere? I can’t tell but if it’s the latter I’m going to commit sui-wait no I’ll still end up in hell FUCK

M: I would never kiss anyone oh you’ll pay me? YOu never said where bitch-

M: I’m not greedy I’m just broke

M: See mammon gets it

M: Levi if you pay me I will draw Henry for you

M: Oh my god I’m henry

M: Diavolo please let me adopt the giant snake in your labyrinth

M: Solomon I’m going to carefully watch you while you cook so that I can understand on what level can you fuck up food so bad

M: OH MY GOD ITS ALIVE

M: If I ate that apple I’m going to kill my clone because there can only be one

M: I really think that I’m more demon than you guys are

M: Mass murder isn’t wrong if it’s in the name of God says the bible-stop it Luke I’m making a joke

M: Simeon tell me on what level of friendship do I get to call Lucifer Lucy

M: Satan there is literally no way for me to give you a new nickname

M: the angrier you get the more like Lucifer you sound so-HEY DON”T FLIP THE TABLE MY ONION RINGS

M: Belphie if you want humanity to die just make them all so lazy no one will ever get up

M: I swear to God that I will not wake up the demon king-okay fine mentioning God’s name doesn’t actually make it more sincere fucking-

M: if any of you look at my reddit history its either I die or you die

M: Bleach is a very powerful weapon

M: Who the fuck designed your demon clothes

M: God is kinky confirmed

M: I want humans to know the existance of demons but I also don’t want Diavolo to be exposed to the horny ones-no I did not mean that literally

M: I know he’s supposed to be the Prince of Hell but I can’t stop visualizing him as a cuddly large demon teddy bear

M: I’m so mad that there aren’t that many stray cats in devildom What’s the fuck point

M: Barbatos if I give you a recipe will you finally answer that question about being a sadist or a masochist? No? goddamit

M: I was going to say goddamn you but clearly he already has

M: I’m going to contact a family therapist

M: Beel please carry me I want to feel tall for once

M: My neck hurts from looking at all of you

M: Belphie move over or I will crush you that’s my sleeping spot-yeah I know that’s Beel’s lap THAT’s THE WHOLE POINT

M: I am constantly in a state of surppressed rage so how do I feel satan?

M: I can’t take you seriously your name is Satan

M: heh-no I do not look like Barbatos shut the fuck up

M: I totally did not draw Lucifer in a comprimising position and sold it online

M: Hi mammon it’s pretty high up huh?

M: Beel I won’t tell anyone if you share that pizza with me

M: it’s not bribery if its not money-that doesn’t work? fuck

M: My type is literally anyone who isn’t human so ya know sorry solomon

M: god made demons and decided that evil was an aesthetic

M: I know I sang and Satan will tear you limb from limb but I swear I just forgot about the lyrics and not that I actually think nah no I think you’ll actually do that I’m not apologizing for shit

M: I’m so nice, I’m a family therapist for free. You motherfuckers better fucking pay me

M: technically I can call the cops any time since you did kidnap me

M: Oh my god the dads are coming * after seeing lucifer and diavolo walk up *

M: Diavolo don’t avoid the question who. is. the. top???

M: Levi I know you know what Archive of our Own is don’t lie to me

M: Every time I see Cerberus I have the urge to climb the highest thing in the vacinity

M: I love Hades but saying that here would just incriminate me and I don’t want to boost Lucifer’s ego

M: Lucifer as an angel I feel like he would be even more obnoxious what? nO put that ROPE DOWN NO KINKY TODAY-

M: * first time seeing asmo* are you gay or european?

M: My life is constantly referencing memes

M: Solomon’s theme song is pokemon we’ve already decided on that

M: CREEPER AW MAN-

M: I don’t want you guys to sing because I will physically combust

35 notes · View notes

chemicalvelocity · 3 years

Text

Happy Friday! I need therapy

So I wrote a fic for Fingers in my mouth Friday! Hope Y'all enjoy it.

AO3 Link

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No warnings apply

Pairing: Dean Winchester / Castiel

Word Count: 3545

Read Below the Cut:

Dean's not a creep. He's not, he swears. It's just that he's... noticing things now that he's not on high alert for monsters anymore.

He remembers the first evidence of Castiel he'd ever seen, an angry burn scar of a handprint. He thought it was a demon's for christ's sake. He hadn't paid mind at the time to the fact that it took up his entire deltoid.

Now, however, he was absently tracing its outline after a shower, staring more through the mirror than at it while recalling the events of breakfast. Jack had playfully started the comparing hand sizes game that seems to entertain kids so much.

Dean hadn't even put any thought into it until it turned into everyone else doing it to humor him; which culminated in Dean foolishly slapping his palm to Cas's and then realizing just how much smaller his hand was.

Naturally, he'd joked it off and found his way out of the conversation, acting like it wasn't a bruise to his ego. He had thousand-yard stared his way through a shower, and now, here he was.

He carefully fitted his hand over the scar tissue on his shoulder, and yep, there it was, a literal physical reminder of Cas's massive hands. He got over himself as quickly as he could and threw on his clothes before going to the garage to wash Baby.

That turned out to be a bad idea, as many of Dean's ideas do. Cas was sat in a lawn chair with the tunnel doors cracked, rolling a joint. Dean had pointedly ignored him, turning to rinse the car until Cas spoke up.

"Would you like some?" He asked, looking over at Dean with a twist of his slender fingers as his tongue darted out to wet the rolling paper's adhesive. Dean swallowed.

"Y'know that shit's bad for you, right?" Dean grumbled, but his heart wasn't in it. He opened a drawer to pull out sponges and brushes, tossing them into nearby buckets and setting them down near Baby's rear fender

"I think you know that's not true." Castiel hummed, placing the fresh joint between his lips, bringing the flame of his zippo to the end, and inhaling deeply.

"Whatever, Stoney baloney... Don't you usually smoke out on the roof, anyway?" Dean asked, filling up the first bucket with hot water and suds, the second with only cold water.

"It's raining," Cas replied, voice husky from the strain of holding in a hit. "Frankly, the Bunker is well ventilated enough that I could smoke in the library... where we still keep ashtrays on the table, but I figured I'd come in here to keep it away from Jack." He mused, blowing his lungful of smoke out the door.

"Right... Gotta say Cas, I'm sure second-hand smoke doesn't affect 20-year-old Nephilim toddlers." Dean chuckled, saturating the sponge in the first bucket and slung the soap across the Impala's roof, leaning up to scrub away the dust and bugs that come from hauling her back and forth across the Midwest.

"No, but I don't want to influence him, he's very impressionable, you know." Cas flicked the collecting ash into a labelless beer bottle that sat discarded in his chair's cupholder.

"I wonder where he could've gotten that from. Claire came to visit for one weekend and all of a sudden you're Bob Marley!" Dean teased, and Cas narrowed his eyes at him.

"I am not a musician, nor a Rastafarian, Dean. Claire simply pointed out that I think too much, and that cannabis is known to help." He drew in a deep hit and outstretched his arm to Dean, the cigarette balanced between two fingers. Smoke twirled lazily into the air around him.

Dean made a show of rolling his eyes before coming over to pluck the smoke from Cas's possession. Cas watched him appraisingly as he took a drag, then another, and Dean almost choked when Cas's lips parted for the stream of smoke to travel neatly into his nostrils.

Okay, so Claire taught him how to french inhale. Dean idly wondered if he knew what ghosting was, before passing it back and returning to his task, pretending like his lungs didn't burn from the comparative lack of practice.

Dean hit the wall hard, his breath punched out of him with a grunt. He scrambled to his knees and whipped his head around to see Sam in a similar position nearby. Cas was still standing though now surrounded by three, very pissed-off demons, one of which had Dean's angel blade. Dean attempted to gather himself and help out, but his vision went sideways and he steadied himself against a table, opting to call out the angel's name, stupidly.

Cas had slashed the leg of the demon to his right and grappled the one to his left. As the first one went down, his palm met its forehead and smote it out of its meatsuit. The middle one charged him, but he spun the demon in his grip, shielding himself by launching his captive forward onto the blade, then seizing the neck of the remainder, holding him in place firmly. He turned to the bewildered hunters casually.

"Did you need him for anything else?" Dean bit down on his tongue in a failed attempt to reintroduce moisture to his mouth.

"N-No, Cas I think we're good, knock yourself out..." he rasped as Castiel tightened his grip on the demon's throat, and light burned out from under its skin. Sam and Dean had picked themselves up off the floor by now and made their way to the middle of the room.

"Good work, buddy," Dean panted as Cas piled up the bodies at his feet, and wiped blood away on his jeans. "Guess you hardly need us."

"Of course I do, You made an excellent distraction." Cas smiled and while Dean was sure it was a genuine statement, definitely felt the hit to his pride. Maybe he was just getting too old for this shit. Sam snorted at something and walked out. Dean didn't know what, but he didn't want to hit him any less for it.

"Hey, Cas, I have a bit of a concussion from the hunt the other night. Can you work a little magic?" Sam rubbed at his eyes, setting his laptop aside. Dean raised his eyebrows from his seat, taking a sip of beer. He wouldn't have asked Cas to expend any healing energy on himself, but Cas didn't protest. Instead, he hardly looked up from his book and snapped his fingers. Sam visibly relaxed. Dean did not.

"Thanks, man, I appreciate it. I'm gonna go grab some grub, probably just pick up a pizza and some beers or something." Sam held his hand out for the impala keys. Dean tossed them to him with half a mind.

When Sam was gone, he was still staring at Cas in confusion.

"Can I help you with something too, Dean?" He quirked an eyebrow over his book. Dean cleared his throat and shook his head.

"Nope, no, I'm okay, just a few scrapes. Can't have you wasting your mojo on that... I was just wondering why you didn't, uh, y'know," He tapped two fingers to his forehead and Cas's eyes turned up in a half-smile.

"I don't need to do that to heal."

"Oh... okay." He'd already asked a weird question, probably best not to pry into why Cas always touched him to heal. He tipped back the rest of his beer and fumbled around for an excuse of some sort to break the silence, but Cas stood first.

"I'm going to go find Jack. Let me know when Sam's back with dinner." He passed Dean with a warm squeeze to his shoulder. Dean watched him go, then realized just how long it's been since he's been laid. Too fucking long, apparently.

Yeah, no. Way too long. Dean's half-convinced Cas is fucking with him, too. His suspicion stemmed from Cas's sudden love of eating every meal with them and requesting things like wings or fries.

"Morning sunshine, Sam and Jack already left to go check out a case. I made pan...cakes..." Dean's sentence fell flat when his eyes met Cas entering in a half-buttoned-up shirt. His long fingers slipped buttons into place as he yawned his greeting and trudged his way to the coffee maker.

Dean was a little concerned that he noticed Cas's hands before he noticed the toned and tanned chest underneath the shirt. He ran a hand down his face and moved to pour more coffee. Cas passed over the pot and turned to the stack of pancakes, tossing two onto a plate and proceeding to destroy them with fruit and whipped cream.

"When was the last time we cleaned our firearms?" Cas asked, swirling his finger through the toppings of his breakfast before popping it in his mouth. Dean set his mug down, a little too hard. Cas gave him a look.

"Are you fucking with me?" Dean tried not to sound petulant, but he can't catch a single break. Cas bit his lower lip, and then cleared his throat.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Was his response, innocent and hid behind a sip of coffee. Dean pursed his lips.

"You- you don't?" Dean was momentarily taken aback. Was he so unbelievably tense that he'd imagined the whole problem?-

"No, Dean, you've been staring at my hands all week, I have no idea what you're talking about." he deadpanned.

Dean's face burned. He didn't think he was being obvious about it or anything. Cas was observant, though.

"At first I thought you were just insecure about your hand size, but surely you'd have gotten over that in a day. Then I did some research and decided to... Encourage you." He continued casually as if Dean wasn't praying for the earth to swallow him whole.

"I uh, appreciate that, Cas... Um, what conclusions exactly did you draw?" Dean squeaked out because frankly he still wasn't sure what was going on here.

"You may have a sexual preference for hands, which makes sense, given your previous statements regarding slapping." Cas hummed into his coffee and, yeah okay Dean needed to end this conversation before he melted from shame.

"Okay, right, got it, I'll stop staring." He managed, grabbing his mug and turning to leave before Cas grabbed his arm. He glanced down at the sudden warmth around his wrist, then up to meet Cas's cobalt gaze.

"I never told you to stop," Cas said calmly, loosening his grip to slip his fingers into Dean's hand and pull him closer. "Dean, I researched it." His expression was earnest, and Dean shuddered involuntarily.

"Listen, man, It's not like, a thing... It's just, well, you have nice hands, and you kinda marked me... with your very large hand." Dean still wanted to disappear, but Cas didn't seem too bothered.

"I wanted to tell you, I touch you when I heal because I like the excuse to," Cas murmured, raising his other hand to cup Dean's jaw. Dean's breath hitched. "I enjoy the warmth. Everything else is always so cold." Cas whispered, running his thumb lightly across Dean's bottom lip. Dean couldn't stop the noise he made as it caught on his nail.

Cas's pupils grew wide, and he curiously pushed his thumb deeper. Dean closed his lips over it and sucked gently, noting the faint taste of the strawberries Cas had put on his pancakes. Dean pulled back before he embarrassed himself any further.

"Uh," Dean's brain replied dumbly. "Can I kiss you?" His dick helped with that one.

"I just put my thumb in your mouth and you feel the need to ask-" Cas's snark was cut short by Dean pressing him up against the counter and slotting their lips together. Cas gripped the front of Dean's shirt and kissed him back like a man dying of thirst. This is why Dean's thought process is filled with question marks when Cas puts a hand firmly on his chest and pulls back to speak.

"I don't think the kitchen is the best place for this." He rumbled into their shared space. Dean perked back up when he realized the proposition.

"Did you wanna finish your breakfast first? I can't guarantee we'll be back in here any time soon." Dean wiggled his eyebrows at the angel.

"That's very thoughtful of you, Dean," Cas smiled. "I'd love to. While I do I think you probably want to go get ready." Cas wiped the look off Dean's face when he reeled him back in for another kiss.

"O-oh, yeah, okay. Meet you in my room in ten." And then he was speedwalking out of the kitchen.

Dean turned off the shower after a very thorough cleaning and wrapped his towel around his waist, hurrying back down the hallway to his room. Cas was sitting on the bed patiently.

"Hello, Dean." He smiled, reaching up to tug off his tie. Dean's throat went dry again.

"Hi," Dean was clutching his towel like a lifeline. Cas observed him fondly as he unbuttoned his shirt. "Did you want me to put something on? Or..."

Cas just chuckled and beckoned him closer. Dean stood between his legs and his heart dropped out of his ass when Cas took his hands and pulled gently, signaling for Dean to kneel. He lowered himself slowly to his knees and looked up at Cas, expectant, and not at all freaking out on the inside. Cas leaned in to kiss him again. That, he could work with.

"I want you to put your hands on my knees, and you can't move them unless I say so, is that alright?" Castiel spoke when they parted.

Oh.

Apparently, hand kink isn't the only thing Cas researched. Dean felt the command go straight to his dick. He nodded hastily, but Cas said nothing, only waited, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yes, Cas." He breathed, and Cas grinned and shrugged off his shirt, tossing it into Dean's desk chair.

"Good. Get comfortable." Dean sat back on his heels and placed his hands on top of Cas's thighs. Cas placed both of his hands on Dean's shoulders, rubbing small circles in the muscle before he slid them upwards to massage the back of Dean's neck. When Dean was staring up at him with hooded eyes and humming his appreciation, Castiel's patience grew thin.

Cas held the back of Dean's neck steady, tracing the fingers of his right hand down Dean's temple and across his lips. This time, Dean didn't have any reservations about darting his tongue out to meet them. Cas inhaled deeply through his nose and pushed his index and middle fingers into Dean's mouth.

Dean sighed and let himself go, he lapped at Cas's fingers like he was starving. He held Cas's heated gaze and felt his dick wake back up, twitching underneath his towel.

"So good, you're such a good boy for me, Dean." Cas praised. Dean thought he might pass out. The feeling of Cas inside him, even if it was just his fingers sliding along his tongue was heady. He looked down and took notice of the increasing tightness of Cas's pants. Cas slid his fingers out and leaned back on his elbows. Dean panted, his fingers gripping Cas's thighs with the effort of keeping still.

"Would you like something else, Dean?" Cas smirked down at him. "All you have to do is ask." Dean screwed his eyes shut and swallowed his pride.

"I want," He let out a shuddering breath as Cas ran a hand through his hair. "I want to suck you off."

"You can move your hands now." Cas hummed and leaned his head back. Dean practically sprung forward, ignoring the ache in his calves as he latched his mouth onto one of the angel's nipples. His hands made quick work of Cas's belt and fly, tugging firmly at his pockets to get them off. When Cas's flushed erection came free, Dean leaned forward to mouth at the head and cup his balls.

Cas wove a hand into Dean's hair and pulled. Dean moaned around the cock in his mouth, drawing a deep groan from Cas in response. Dean drank in the sound and relaxed his jaw to swallow him down further, bobbing his head rapidly.

"Dean." Cas sounded wrecked, and Dean's head snapped up to attention.

"Yeah?" He asked, breath heaving as he leaned up to his eye level.

"May I-"

"Anything, Angel, seriously." He pressed his lips to the heated flesh under Cas's jaw, sucking hard and nipping gently.

"I want to fuck you." Cas gasped, leaning into Dean's mouth. Dean nodded and climbed to his feet to get the lube from his nightstand. Cas sat up and wrenched Dean's towel away. His eyes roved Dean's body appreciatively before pulling him down on the bed. "Lie down on your front, please." He purred, and Dean was on his elbows in an instant, handing back the lubrication.

Cas caressed the contours of Dean's back reverently, before gingerly parting Dean's cheeks and licking a broad stripe across his hole. Dean felt his whole body twitch.

"Fuck, C-Cas..." Dean whined out, completely sideswiped by Cas's impromptu rimjob. He helplessly thrust his hips back against Cas's grip. Castiel reeled back a single hand and gave Dean's ass a hard smack. Dean dropped his face into his pillow with a keen from the back of his throat.

"Sit still, Dean. Let me take care of you." He growled, mouthing kisses from the base of Dean's spine to the cleft of his ass again. He laved his tongue in tantalizing circles, fucking it in and out nimbly and drawing a chorus of breathy sounds from the hunter.

"Please, Sweetheart... I need you... Need you inside me, c'mon." Dean whimpered, writhing under the sensation of Cas's hot breath and slick tongue. Cas finally gave in and sat up, reclaiming the bottle of lube to squeeze a sizeable portion directly onto Dean's entrance. Dean shivered from the sudden cold, only to cry out again when Cas's strong index finger slid in with very little resistance.

Cas continued to pepper Dean's shaking shoulders with wet kisses as he thrust his finger in, curling it hard against Dean's prostate and savoring the faint sound of Dean nearly wailing into his pillow. He slid in a second finger and scissored them back and forth to make way for a third. At this point, Dean had lifted his head and turned towards Cas with pleading eyes. Cas leaned forward and kissed him deeply.

"You're doing so well, Dean... Are you ready?" Cas mumbled into Dean's mouth.

"Yeah, Christ... Yes, Cas, please." Dean managed to get his knees under himself and Cas slicked himself up, working the head of his cock into Dean's fluttering hole. He clutched at Dean's hips and slowly rocked himself in deeper. "Fuck!" Dean yelped, trying to meet Cas's thrusts to no avail.

"Relax, my love." Cas moaned, rolling his hips into Dean, captivated by the catch of skin around him. "Do you want to move?" He asked, and released his iron hold on Dean's waist with a chuckle when Dean nodded eagerly. Dean thrust back against Cas with abandon. A surprised gasp was drawn from both of them as Cas sped up his thrusts to match. Dean was going to come if Cas didn't slow down, so he gathered his thoughts enough to speak up.

"Cas, wait. Can I flip?" He panted, and Cas's onslaught came to a stop.

"Of course, Dean." He pulled out carefully and leaned away for Dean to position himself on his back. Castiel admired the flush that spread down Dean's neck and covered most of his chest. He leaned forward to suck dark hickeys into Dean's collarbone to contrast. Dean reached down to guide Cas back inside, sighing amorously when he was seated again.

Cas rocked in and out once more with renewed enthusiasm. He snapped his hips forward, causing Dean to arch up off the bed with a shout. Stars burst behind his eyelids as Cas lifted Dean's legs to wrap around his waist and repeated contact his prostate shot sparks through his bloodstream.

"Ah-fuck, Cas, Baby... I'm gonna come. Are you almost there?" Dean gasped and reached up to pull Cas down for a vehement kiss when he grunted his confirmation. Dean felt the heat of his release coil deep in his gut and rocked up into Cas with a fervor, moaning heavily into Cas's mouth with each collision of their hips.

Then the tension in Dean's core snapped, and he was coming without so much as a moment's attention to his dick, clinging to Cas's shoulders with a fucked out whine. Cas kept going and Dean's synapses felt like they were being deep-fried as Castiel's stuttering hips drove him in deeply one, two then a final time as he emptied himself into Dean with a low groan. He then pulled out slowly and rolled off a now depleted Dean to spoon him.

"I think I'm in love with you." Dean wheezed, and Castiel grinned into his hair.

"I'm glad I could help you come to that epiphany. I love you too, Dean."

#Spn #spn fanfiction #destiel fanfic #my writing #minors dni #dean winchester #Castiel #Fimmf #Happy Friday!!#destiel #deancas #casdean #dean x cas #supernatural fanfiction

37 notes · View notes

heyitsjay03 · 3 years

Text

Fighting for Tomorrow; Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: I don't have the brain function to come up with a witty opener so I'm getting straight to the point- I don't own AOT, its characters, or its plot points. Just a girl dicking around with shit.

AN: I know it took literally forever to get out but my god I was gonna get it out today if it killed me. I love you all and thank you so much for the support! <3

Reiner x Fem!Reader, eventual Captain Levi x Fem!Reader, Sasha x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 6.1k

TW: gore/blood/violence/death, adult language/swearing, slight PTSD, mental anguish, self-harm, grief, nightmares, insomnia, hysterics, homicide??? i guess

The walls sweat and ooze moss and moisture between cinderblocks. Everything is tainted with the smell of mildew and rotting wood. Even the ceiling groans at the smell. Fire casts teasing rays against the wall across from me- but it dares not step into the darkness of my chambers. It’s silent save for the dripping of water down the hallway and the clinking metal of the iron cuffs around my ankles.

“__________,” Reiner mumbles, his shoulder barely fitting through the bars keeping me inside. His hand rests on the outer part of my thigh, tucking me closer to the iron. To him.

My eyes slink back towards him from a patch of moss fighting through the cracks of the wall. They settle on his face. I can see the weight of sleep buried under his skin- settled deep in pockets beneath his eyes. Only tiny slits of white and gold are visible as he looks down at me. He sits on the other side of the bars with only a shoulder managing to squeeze through the rusting iron bars. Reiner hasn’t left, hasn’t slept since I got here. Refuses to. ‘Wants to keep an eye out,’ he says.

I don’t know how long I’ve been down here.

“You need to sleep,” I whisper, brushing hair out of his eyes. “Please.”

“No,” he grunts, blinking slowly, “No.”

“Rei, please.”

“I’ll sleep when you’re out of this shithole.”

My fingers stop to trail down his face. “...Rei, we don’t know if-”

“You are.”

“Listen to me, we have precedent- Eren isn’t even allowed out of Levi’s sight-”

“He can turn into a fifteen-meter Titan at will,” Reiner yawns, letting his forehead hit the bar. “You… you’re different.”

“...that’s not a good thing, either, Rei,” I whisper.

I can feel his eyes on me as I mindlessly focus on his shirt. My fingers anxiously work at the fabric, twisting it over my index finger until it can’t twist anymore and then releasing it- only to do it all over again. His chest grows with breath as he watches me in silence.

“You’re gonna be-”

The door down the hallway opens. Creaking and crackling of wood echoes off the walls- punctuated by the steps of soldiers. I can’t tell how many. My head swims as it tries to focus on the various footfalls. I haven’t slept well, if at all. I can feel it in every movement, this unseen weight. I’m slow and my brain is slower.

Reiner slowly drags himself off the bars and onto his feet. He pulls his Scout cape on and leans against the bars slightly. My hand wraps around the bar, pulling me to my knees. Boots stop just in front of me. Three, I can see now. Three pairs. Slowly, my eyes trail up to face them.

Commander Erwin. Squad Leader Hange.

Captain Shortstack.

The Commander gets down onto one knee, eyes flicking between mine. Calculating, analyzing; those eyes. I can feel unseen plans and strategies behind his irises. Does he see them? Are they locked in endless rows of shelves, ready for perusal? Or are they predictions of plans? Something that he can’t see, but feel- a hazy image in a crystal ball.

“I’m sorry we had you locked up in this place,” he says. “Do you need anything?”

I laugh coldly, grabbing the bar and shifting to face him. “...water,” I whisper hoarsely, clearing my throat.

“Hange?”

Hange nods once and disappears down the hall. I can hear the door open and close as they leave.

The Commander sighs, eyes looking around the cell. “...have you had any other visitors?”

I shake my head, tilting it towards Reiner. “Watchdog didn’t let anyone in.”

“If they were in here,” Reiner mutters, “They weren’t here long.”

The Commander nods. “...we’re lucky you came to us. There’s no need for a hearing. Darius put you in our charge- so long as you remain under Hange’s supervision.”

“Hange?” I mumble, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Eren was put with Captain Levi… why wouldn’t they do the same with me?”

The door opens and shuts again, Hange coming into view as they round the corner. A glass of water in hand, they bend over and give it to me.

“Frankly speaking,” the Commander starts as I chug the water. “It’s because you don’t turn into a fifteen meter rampaging Titan.”

As I wipe my face, I place the empty bottle down on the other side of the bars. “I don’t even know what I can… do.” I laugh coldly. “I… I just… It just happens.”

My eyes ghost over the figures in front of me. Commander Erwin kneeling down in front of me, his hand gripping a bar. Hange standing just behind him, their face shifting with the shadows cast from the torches. Reiner eyeing each of the veterans with his arms crossed over his chest.

And then there’s the Captain. His eyes lock with mine- unflinching and unreadable. I become aware of every sensation as we stare at each other. The gentle breeze from an unseen source. The prickling of my skin against the cool ground. The warmth of my stomach.

I turn away quickly, tucking into myself. I felt like… he could see everything going on in my head. Piercing, steel eyes trying to piece me together like a puzzle. I scoff at myself. I sound paranoid.

But there’s something. Something about him.

Commander Erwin clears his throat and shifts a bit in his spot. “Well… from what the reports say, you… control them. You have some sort of… ability that Hange is more than interested in.”

Hange gives me a small smile. I can see the gleam in their eyes from behind their glasses. They’ve got something planned for me- and it’ll be one helluva fun time for me when I find out what in the names of the gods it is.

Red fog snakes out from under my skin- a tiny piddling of smoke that barely extends out past my fingers. But with the way Hange gasped, I thought for a second that maybe there was an entire field of red fog just behind me. As I turned to look at them, I realised there wasn’t any.

I did, however, realise they were sprinting full-speed at me, screaming incoherently.

“Jeeeeeeennnnnnnn!” They draw out my name in an ecstatic howl, stuttering to a stop just short of me. They take my arm in their hands and take out a marker. “Where did it come out of?! Mark it!” They demand, shoving the marker into my hand.

My eyes blink slowly at the marker before I mark the section of my forearm just past the inside of my elbow. Hange screams again, snatching both my arm and the marker. “Moblit!” They screech over their shoulder, “Bring the journal!”

Moblit pushes his way past the bystanding soldiers, journal in hand, as he runs to Hange. They snatch the journal and turn to a blank page. Hastily, Hange starts to scribble a drawing of my arm into the page and draws a small ‘x’ over the same spot in the book. “And it branched out about…” Hange mumbles to themself before looking at me through their glasses. “Hold your arm exactly like you did before, please.”

I nod slowly. My arm is slightly bent, fingers bent at different angles. Hange squeals and walks to observe my arm. Without a word, Moblit pulls out a ruler and hands it to Hange. Placing it at the tips of my fingers, they measure out the length of the smoke before hastily marking it down in their notebook.

“You’ve done incredibly,” Hange mumbles breathlessly, looking over at the empty field of grass surrounding us. The sun dips low behind the soft-green hills dotted with purple and yellow flowers. The rays glow orange and red as the flowers sway in the gentle breeze. “...but I think it’s time to head back.”

“We’ll be back at it tomorrow, right?” I ask quietly, stretching and flexing my fingers under my gaze.

“Eager, are we?” Hange hums as we start walking towards the horses.

I laugh softly and shrug. “...eager to get this madness under control, I guess.”

Freckles shakes his head and huffs as we approach. Clinking of metal resounds around us in the clearing as the horses pull against their restraints. Hange flashes me a quick smile before turning to another soldier- who relays some message that’s lost in the breeze. I dip my head and turn towards the open field just before the patch of forest we kept our horses in.

It’s similar to the patch of trees where… when Reiner convinced me to come to the Commander, actually. Towering trees that suddenly spring up in the middle of the hilled valley. Our horses are kept in an alcove of sorts- a small dent in the border of the forest that is surrounded by trees but open to the field through a single wide opening to the west. Through the opening, the sun finally disappears completely under the distant hills. Clouds are now blowing in, all tinted grey and blue.

There’ll be a storm coming soon. I can feel it in the air- icy and pregnant with electricity and water. Something resounds from the north, taking my attention from the now-set sun. Untying his restraints, I take Freckles and walk slowly towards the opening in the forest. Freckles fights against me slightly as we start to near the entrance. “C’mon, big guy,” I mumble, pulling the reins. “We’re gonna be stuck in the storm anyways. Might as well see how bad it is.”

Freckles huffs and stamps his hoof into the dirt. A single whinny is enough warning. There’s another resounding crash in the distance- more pronounced and powerful. Freckles shakes his head and starts to back away from the entrance.

I turn away from the entrance, walking back to the bustling camp.

Something twitches deep in my gut.

We need to leave.

My eyes scanning over the camp, I watch as some tents are wrapped up and placed in the wagons. Supplies are strapped down in wagons and on the backs of horses. Other tents- like Hange’s and the soldiers’- are being reinforced. More spikes into the ground, more waterproof layers.

“Hange?” I call, looking from the tents to the towering trees that loom and watch us. They sway dismissively, slowly. Old gods looking down at their pitiful creation. And even further above them, the darkening clouds. Furious and turbulent, they whirl around in blue and black shadow. The harnessed power of the gods- ready to strike down blasphemous heretics.

We need to leave.

Hange appears just in front of me. “We’ll be staying even longer than I’d hoped,” they mutter, eyes focused on one of the last wagons as they pull out. “Some soldiers were called in by Commander Erwin, others I sent for more supplies. If we all went, we’d be too slow in the storm.” Hange sighs, “So, we’ll be holed up in here for a few more weeks.”

“Here?”

Hange nods absentmindedly as they take out their journal.

My eyebrows work together as my eyes flick back up to the old gods. Their bark is twisted in a warning malice, their branches snapping and scratching in a brittle apprise. We have stepped on sacred ground- tarnished a temple.

They’re warning us.

“Hange,” I say quietly, tearing my eyes off the gods as they demand our departure in a language lost to time.

“Hm?” They mumble, still looking down at their journal.

“...I… there’s something wrong.”

Hange closes the book and looks up at me. “...what is it?” They ask. Their voice is flat. Cold. Calculating. I can see their eyes analytically gliding across the camp.

“There’s something out there,” I whisper, my eyes focused on the inner, shadowy heart of the forest. “There’s… there’s just something. I… I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Explain what?”

My eyebrows furrow as my gaze drops to the floor. My head tilts slightly. “...I just… I feel like… I’ve… seen... this happen before.”

“This…?” Hange asks, “What do you mean?”

“I dunno,” I mumble, eyes trailing up towards the sky. “It just… feels familiar… wrong.”

Hange and I go quiet. I can feel their eyes on me before they follow my gaze to the clouds as they begin to swirl in an almost sickly mess of yellow, green, black, and blue.

“...Moblit!” Hange finally calls. Moblit is at their side in an instant. Hange turns and points out past the entrance of the forest. “We’ll be moving camp out from the forest.”

Moblit’s nods slow as his eyebrows weave together. “...out… of the forest?”

“Out. We’ll hole up against the hills in the west.”

Hesitation is prevalent in Moblit’s delayed movements. He slowly pulls away from Hange and stammers directions to the soldiers. Hange places a hand on my shoulder and looks out of the entrance. With a sigh, their glasses glaze over with a sheen that prevents me from seeing through to their eyes. “...ride out and lead the wagons towards a spot with more shelter,” they mutter, still looking out towards the hills being consumed by clouds.

Snarling, the black fog slithers in towards the hills. Hange turns and walks towards their tent without another word. Gripping the reins, I pull myself onto Freckles’ back and urge him forward.

Whatever I’ve seen before, whatever memory that is deep inside the crevices of my brain- I know it was a warning.

A deep breath fills my lungs as my eyes shoot open. My arm is outstretched- reaching for something that once hovered above me. Fingers trembling, red smoke starts to recoil back under my skin. I can feel it retracting under my muscles like a snake to its hole. With a huff, my arm hits my bed.

Someone clears their throat.

I turn over in bed to look at the voice. It’s Moblit. His eyes are trained on my arm, his fingers hovering over his blades. His clothes stick to his skin, dripping with rain.

“...nightmare,” I whisper, sitting up and rubbing the inside of my forearm.

Moblit nods slowly before pulling the tent flap open again. “...there’s something you need to see,” he says, stepping out of the tent.

I pull myself out of bed, throwing my cape on and pulling the hood over my head. Stepping out, I enter a war of wind and water. Rivulets of water already start to cascade down my arms- my cape soaked through in moments. Wind whips the fabric around my legs like hard whips, cracking against my thighs.

Moblit leads me forward. Mud squishes under my feet, sucking my legs into the earth’s body as I trudge forward. He leads me up to the crest of the hill we hid behind. Hange stands at the very top, hair and fabric tossed around as the wind ravages their body. They remain focused on the distance. Moblit stops at their side, focused on the same spot in the distance.

Blinking rapidly as watery knives carve my skin, I draw the blurred copies in my vision back into focus. The patch of forest we had originally set up in- that’s what they’re looking at. I squint, put a hand up to shield my eyes from the wind.

Titans. A dozen of them. Half of them stand in the shelter of the woods, the other half making their way towards the trees.

“...we would’ve been trapped,” Hange mumbles above the howl of the wind. “If we had stayed.”

We go silent, watching the Titans congregate in the trees before they all slip even deeper in the forest.

“...I’ve never seen them act like that,” Moblit says quietly.

“Neither have I,” Hange adds, their eyes sliding over to me.

“...I… I haven’t either,” I whisper, shaking my head. “...I… I think I haven’t.”

We go silent again but there’s no mistaking a few things. The main being that we would’ve died in a surprise attack had we stayed. The next being how little we know about these beasts.

And the most daunting- how little we know about this… power… flowing under my skin.

And how little I know how to control it.

“Control it,” Hange directs sternly, their voice focused.

“...I’m… trying,” I mutter, arms and hands locked and trembling. The smoke floods from my veins and muscles- wrapping around the Titan just a few meters away from me. It’s thick, red as it slithers around the Titan’s arms, legs, and face.

“Keep going,” Hange says firmly.

With a grunt, I lean into the fog. A low yell builds up from my stomach as I continue to push forward. ‘Stand’, I tell the Titan. ‘Stand.’

It refuses, pushing against my fog with a hunger-fueled strength. The jaws open and snap shut, fingers claw into the dirt towards us.

I plant my feet and push even harder. My voice tears as it strains out a growling scream. The Titan thrashes as another wave of red smoke surrounds it. ‘Stand’, I tell it.

A single word hits me.

‘Why?’

My body loses tension. I know I didn’t think it- I know it was from… something, somewhere. The Titan- No. No, no cognitive thought like that could come from Titans that aren’t like Eren. No, this is deeper.

From me.

I asked myself.

Why do I want it to stand?

What purpose does that serve?

What goal does that achieve?

Memories of falling, memories of Trost come running back. The forest- I saved Reiner and myself. Trost- I saved myself. Those were the goals, the purposes then. To save him and myself.

So find a goal for this, __________.

Hange’s yells finally slam against my ears. “__________! Get out of there!”

My eyes focus on the Titan emerging from the smoke, hands outstretched in an effort to grab me. My body tightens. The loose smoke mirrors my movements- tightening like a snake around the Titan. The Titan howls as the smoke enters its mouth and nose.

‘Stop’, I tell it.

I can feel it thrash against me. Planting my foot deeper in the dirt, I grit my teeth. More smoke enters its body.

‘Stop’.

The Titan stills. It heaves with breath, hunched over. The smoke dissipates but I can feel it.

We are one. I am in control. It obeys my command- I could tell it to devour itself and it’d begin tearing into its flesh.

Slowly, the Titan stands up straight.

The eyes. They glow red. Bright and intense like crimson suns. Just like the Titan in Trost. Just like the Titans in the forest. They come to rest on me. I relax and stand up. I can hear the murmurs of soldiers and the excited chatter from Hange- now faraway and distant.

The Titan lifts an arm. The soldiers jump and gasp behind me. Huffing a laugh, I sit down in the grass and watch the fingers dig into the skin behind its neck. With a single tug, the Titan’s body goes limp with its own steaming nape clutched in its hand. The body falls backward. It collides with the grass and dirt to send a spray of dust out behind it.

The soldiers are silent.

Hange walks up to stand beside me, overlooking the decaying corpse. “...did you…?” they ask quietly.

“I did,” I groan my head starts to throb and pulse. Heat begins to flood my skull furiously. My fingers rub circles in my temples as my eyes pinch closed.

Hange places a hand on my shoulder and I can hear them squat down beside me. “...I think that’s enough for now,” they mutter as something streams down my nose. “We’ll… meet up with Captain Levi and the other Scouts at HQ tomorrow. I think you’ve had enough practice away from everyone.”

I open my eyes as I wipe my nose. As my hand pulls away, I can see my skin is stained with a thick streak of blood. Moblit appears next to me, offering a handkerchief. Slowly, I take it and hold it under my nose. Hange and Moblit both help me to my feet. Moblit barks orders at soldiers to pack up the wagons as Hange leads me to my tent.

I push the flap open and plop down onto my bed. Weights are strapped onto every muscle, pulling down every movement.

This is how it is. My power- it’s limited. Controlling Titans drains my energy and leaves me wounded the more I use it. It was a nosebleed this time- but there have been times gashes form even though I haven’t been touched. It always feels like something is tearing me apart from the inside out when it gets to that point.

The point of these experiments lately have been to... build endurance. Make it so I can do more without the consequence of being ripped to shreds by my own power.

And controlling Titans isn’t even the thing that really drains me.

It’s healing myself and others that siphons energy and time before my body starts to physically tear. Minor scratches, cuts, bruises- those don’t do anything more than make me lightheaded for a few moments. But more serious wounds require more time and energy.

And there’s a possibility if the injury is too much, I may end up killing myself while healing someone else.

Hange theorizes I need more practice to heal more complicated injuries without injuring myself.

But as I use my power more and more, there have been more and more… complications.

More nightmares, more visions. I can see more detail with each day. Innocents slaughtered by red fog, blood staining my hands. There are moments when I’m healing something when a sudden inclination hits me. When I’m healing, I feel like... reversing the healing I’ve done and then stealing the person’s health even further.

There was one instance… when I was healing someone after a particularly stressful day of experiments. I was focused on creating skin under my hands when my vision went dark. The next thing I remember was Moblit pulling me away from the soldier while Hange checked over him. I had been sent to my tent with guards until Hange entered hours later. They told me that I had not only retracted the healing I had done, but made the gash fester and grow until it consumed the soldier’s entire forearm to the bone.

It had only been a rope burn that I was treating originally.

...I don’t even remember doing it. I don’t even remember having the thought of doing it. If I could just remember battling the thought, trying to keep it at bay-

“How are you feeling?” Hange asks, sitting down beside my bed with their notebook. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”

“...I was just thinking about that soldier.”

Hange nods. “...there’s a lot about this power we still don’t understand,” they say softly.

“Still,” I mutter, “I… I was… I was a nurse. I wanted to be a doctor, I signed up for the Scouts- I did all that because I want to help humanity, not… aid in its destruction.”

“You are helping humanity... By learning to wield this power, you’re helping us take back what was taken from us,” Hange says firmly before chuckling. “...and besides, mistakes are good teachers.”

I roll my eyes and laugh softly. “...that was cheesy, Glasses.”

Hange shrugs, “It’s not wrong.”

Sighing, I nod. “...I guess.”

A few moments of silence pass before Hange clears their throat. “You’ll… you’ll be back with the others tomorrow.”

I smile gently. “...it’s been a few weeks,” I mumble, “What’s happened since we’ve been out here?”

Hange’s smile fades.

Slowly, I sit up and take their hand. “...Hange?”

“...terrible things,” they whisper, eyes glazed as they stare unblinkingly at a spot on my bed.

We go silent. Their hand clenches around mine as they take a long, slow breath. Swallowing thickly, their eyes slowly meet with mine. “After you were… when you came to Commander Erwin about your power,” they start before taking another deep breath. “...the entirety of Levi Squad was…”

My heart stops. I can feel every sensation amplify and see each moment a million times over. A blade of grass shaking in the wind. A dewdrop dripping off the edges of the canvas tent flap. A rough patch of their fingers catching on the fabric of their cape.

“...Eren?” I breathe out. “Is Eren-”

“Eren’s alive,” Hange says quickly, placing a hand on my shoulder and tightening their grip. “Eren’s alive and well.” Hange chuckles, “...got into a bit of a scuffle with the Female Titan but he’s alive.”

My eyes roll back into my head with a breathy laugh. “Thank the gods,” I mumble, my eyes shut. “Thank the gods…”

“But, __________,” Hange’s hand squeezes my shoulder. My eyes open in response, landing on their face. Their eyebrows drawn, tears prick their eyes. “...Eld’s gone.”

I can feel my heart clench with their words. Eld’s gone. Another one taken from me. Slowly, I nod. “Can… can I have a moment? Alone, please.” I ask breathily, my voice slightly scratching with tears.

Hange nods and gets up. Another shoulder-squeeze and they walk out of my tent without another word.

Laying back down, I remember those nights after Shiganshina fell. The running, the fighting, the searching. Terrifying beasts disguised as men following me in the moonlight. Fending off those beasts’ kin that wished to drag me into complacent subservience for their own fleshly satisfaction. Looking for kids in the darkest pits of the Underground.

And those gaunt, sun-starved, malnourished people living- existing- in the Underground. Pale, clammy hands grasping at my ankles like damned souls from Hell. The pleading, wailing, begging for mercy and healing. To be cured. To be treated like a human being. And then there were those who damned me. Damned me for being born above the ground, being fortunate. They, diseased and broken, spat at me for nothing more than being alive.

And who could’ve blamed them?

I helped where I could, when I could. I had never seen so many people in one spot with so many different types of diseases- some practically extinct above ground. It was a festering shithole. But I gained a reputation, connections, information. While I worked on family members and friends, I asked those who could answer if they had any idea where I could find the kids. People would point me down a path as payment and I’d set off. And then I was pointed to that asshole.

I sigh and roll over, tucking the blanket up over my head. With each blink, moments of that night flash. I was looking for the kids- he was someone who dealt with the field detail they had issued as a last-ditch effort to cultivate the land. I was told he could help me find where the kids were assigned; which field, which town, something.

What a waste of time.

‘From the sound of it,’ he had said as he took a sip of wine, ‘you’re desperate.’

I told him no, that I was just being thorough, that I had no doubt they were alive and well and out of trouble.

He had laughed. A cruel, cold, rasping laugh that made my skin crawl. When he finally stopped, he looked at me like a wolf looked at prey. Not sexually, not pervertedly, no. Just like prey. Hunter and hunted. ‘I’ll help you find them,’ he swore with another sip, ‘if you do something for me in return.’

I asked him what he wanted.

He smiled, leaned in. I can still see the gleam in his eyes. ‘I want you to kill Captain Levi and Commander Erwin Smith.’

I asked him why. Why he would want the Commander and Captain dead.

‘The Captain went back on our deal,’ he had said. ‘And the Commander is far too ambitious for his own good.’

I groan, tossing back the cover.

I had entertained the idea. I had thought about it- even if it was for a moment. I debated the morality of it all. Humanity’s Strongest Soldier and the leader of the Scouts in exchange for three innocent children- for three of my children. There was a moment when I was weak, when I was desperate enough to seriously consider it.

But I knew.

I knew I could find them myself. I knew it would’ve been a lot more of a sacrifice than just the Commander and the Captain.

I would’ve damned the entirety of humanity for my family.

If Eld hadn’t found me that night, if I hadn’t been convinced in my grief to join the Scouts- I would’ve done it. I would’ve crawled back to that offer and cut myself, bled myself dry of humanity and loyalty to my species in order to save my family.

Eld was the person that showed me how to keep my humanity. Eld was the person that helped me find my family.

And now he’s gone, too.

“There’s a reason why we brought you back from training,” the Commander admits, sitting down across from me with a sigh.

My eyebrows knit together as I look over to Hange. They turn their head to avoid my gaze. Turning to face the Commander, I tilt my head slightly. “...what is it?” I ask quietly.

“You’re to be processed by the courts with Eren.”

Chills slide rampantly along my skin. Being sent to the courts means my existence lies in the hands of a single man- Darius. That my being allowed to live would be debated the same way someone would debate killing a bug.

And for Eren, it may mean he…

“Commander,” I mumble, my eyes dotting with tears as the walls start to close in around me. “Commander- Eren, he’ll-”

“I know,” he says, his eyes simultaneously soft with sympathy and harsh with reality.

“But we have a plan,” Hange cuts in, their voice gentle.

“What is it?” I ask, taking a strained breath in.

“We’ll be using body doubles for you and Eren when the Military Police come to take you in,” the Commander starts, “You’ll be assisting us in another way… a way that rebels against the MP’s rule.”

I tilt my head slightly to the side. “...which is…?”

“You’re going to use your power to help us capture a spy amongst the Scouts.”

“...a spy?” I ask quietly, eyebrows weaving together at his words. A spy for the Titans? Who would-

My face relaxes with realization. The Female Titan. They found her operator. They know who controls that Titan. And they’re one of us.

“...who is it?”

“That will be revealed when you see her in person,” Commander Erwin states. “I’m sure you understand the secrecy.”

I nod slowly. If they announced her identity, any associate of hers could and would run to tell her about the plan and she’d disappear. Or worse. She may transform and lay waste to humanity from the inside out.

“Commander?”

“Yes, __________?”

“...this traitor,” I mutter, “my powers may not work on her. We’ve never tried to use my power on a Titan being controlled by a human.”

“Yes… Hange had told me about that. Even if your powers don’t work on her, you can prove to be a valuable asset that assists us. Hange tells me of your healing capabilities.”

I nod once. “Yes, sir… I can heal injuries fairly well. I… I can’t fix severed limbs but… I can make it so someone doesn’t die from losing an arm or having a leg torn off.”

The Commander smiles slightly. “An advantageous ability.”

I dip my head. “Thank you, sir.”

“You should get going,” the Commander says softly. “You’ve been gone for a long time- I’m sure there are some faces you’ve missed.”

“Yes, sir,” I mumble, getting up from my seat. “Thank you, sir.”

Breaking out into a sprint, a breathy laugh leaves my lips. Sasha drops a plate of food and runs to me. “You’re back!” She giggles, taking me into a hug. “How was it? Did they do anything to you?”

I shake my head and watch over her shoulder as the others clamber over seats to get to us. “It was a lot of experiments- but nothing like what the Military Police would’ve had done.”

“Well, look who’s back,” Jean says, a joking smirk on his lips. “It’s… it’s good t’have ya back, Mom.” I pinch his side as he takes me into a hug.

“So you’re like Eren now, huh?” Connie asks, wrapping his arms around me. “All power-y ‘nd whatever.”

I shrug, looking down at my hands. “I’m not nearly as… I’m not exploding into a Titan, if that’s what you’re saying.”

“Pfft, no,” Connie scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I mean you’re like. Cool… ‘r something.”

“Please,” I laugh, “I was cool a long time before that...” I stop, looking around the kitchen, “Where ‘re the others?”

“Eren, Mikasa, ‘nd Armin were with Bertholdt ‘nd Reiner just a second ago…,” Sasha mumbles, turning to survey the kitchen. “I thought I-”

My eyes slide over the entrance, where the five of them stand talking. “Found ‘em.” I turn to Sasha and give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be right back. Gotta go say hi t’the meathead.”

“Bring ‘em over,” Connie offers, “We can eat in the courtyard.”

Ducking my head, I start towards the group. Reiner is joking with Eren, grabbing him by the shoulder and quickly rubbing his knuckles on his hair. Eren thrashes around and pushes him off with a smile. Mikasa cracks a smile as she watches them in silence. Armin’s talking quietly with Bertholdt, who nods slowly at his words.

“Hey!” I call, waving my arm over my head. “Rei! Mikasa!”

Their faces all turn towards me, their eyes wide and movements frozen. Armin’s the first to break into a sprint for me- Mikasa, Eren, Reiner, and Bertholdt hot on his heels. As he collides with me, his arms wrap around me. “You were gone for so long!” Armin mumbles, pulling away to look up at me.

“Too long,” Reiner huffs as he stumbles to a stop just in front of me. “Way, way, way too long.”

“So what’d they do?” Eren asks, “Did Hange have you go down a well too?” The rest of us turn to face him, our eyebrows drawn and mouths hanging open slightly. Eren blushes and shrugs. “...that’s… that’s what they did t’me.”

“Well, I mean, I don’t exactly turn into a giant, pissed-off Titan,” I tease, ruffling his hair. “So there weren’t any wells.”

“But what about-?!”

“We can discuss it over dinner,” I interrupt gently, “I just rode all day t’get here, I’m starving.”

“I’ll grab you something,” Mikasa offers, taking Armin and Eren’s wrists.

“We’ll be in the courtyard, okay?”

With a single nod, the three of them hurry off to the food. Bertholdt clears his throat, “It’s… it’s great t’see you again,” he says with a small smile. “I… I should go make sure they don’t start another fight with Jean.”

“‘They’?”

“...I should go make sure Eren doesn’t start another fight with Jean.”

“Thank you,” I smile as he starts off after them.

Reiner sighs heavily, taking my hand softly. “Gods, I’m glad you’re back.”

My smile grows as our fingers interlace. “...I’m glad to be back.”

The two of us watch as Bertholdt tries to defuse the tension between Eren and Jean. They’re snarling and barking like foaming-mouth dogs while Bertholdt has Eren by the collar. He’s sweating as he hurriedly calms the two down. Mikasa watches with a plate of food, saying something to Armin that makes him burst into laughter.

“...ya know,” Reiner mumbles, leaning down to whisper into my ear. “...they won’t be done for a bit.”

“What’re you implying?” I smirk.

“You know exactly what.”

“...bet I can beat my record.”

“Well, I mean… it’s been a while since…”

“You didn’t-?” I stop myself and shake my head. “Whatever, I’m still beating my record.”

The two of us stumble out into the courtyard, a giggling mess. “Told ya I’d beat my record,” I puff my chest out proudly.

“You really expect me t’last when you look like that?” Reiner scoffs, “You have way too much faith in me.”

He takes my hand as we walk towards the others. Sasha spots us and waves her arm over her head, gesturing to the spot they have laid out on the grass. It’s oddly peaceful- the calm before the storm. Tomorrow we’ll root out a traitor in our ranks. A friend, possibly, working against us for…

For them. Titans. For reasons unknown.

Hopefully tomorrow brings us some answers.

31 notes · View notes

kuroos-moon · 4 years

Text

When Tragedy Becomes of Blooming Romance

pairing: Akaashi x reader

genre/s: fluff to angst

— Falling in love is dreamy and all, especially when it’s with Akaashi Keiji; but the probable pain of parting could be twice the amount of the happiness, couldn’t it?

seven months ago

“Akaashi-kun! I can sit here right?” Your eyes bright as they meet his sleepy ones. That was the first time you ever spoke to him, though definitely not the first time he took notice of you.

He rubs his eyes, not fully believing that you of all people would talk to him this fine and early morning. “Uh, sure,” he mutters, subtly scanning the room only to see there were too many available seats aside from the one beside him.

He looks at you as you give him a toothy smile along with a short thankful nod, placing your bag on your desk and taking a seat. “Ohayo,” he says under his breath, causing you to snap your head towards his direction. “Ah! Sorry I forgot to greet you!” You apologize, face flustered. “It’s alr-”

“Ohayo Akaashii!” You cut him off, causing him to seal his lips shut. You were indeed loud, but you made him smile too— internally at least. He nods at you before turning away, placing his chin on top of his hand as he glanced outside.

You mimic his actions, though you weren’t glancing outside, you were looking at him, the both of you finding what you see beautiful nonetheless. “Y/n-chan?” He softly says, the sound of your name out from his lips leaving you surprised, your cheeks now tinted with pink.

His voice sounded too sweet and fragile, too quiet for you to hear but loud enough to drown out the sound of your own heartbeat; nothing less to be expected from Akaashi Keiji, the quiet boy you loved to admire from afar.

“I was wondering why you sat beside me,” he says, and you decided then and there that his voice would be your calm and destruction all at the same time.

“I was feeling gutsy today,” you say before thinking your words through, “finally had the courage,” you add, swearing your mouth just spews out things on its own sometimes. Embarrassed, you shift on your seat, fidgeting with your fingers as you now look the other way.

“I see,” is all you hear him say.

Classes start, things have been a bore so far, not to mention your short attention span. The last period before lunch draws in, and to your dismay, you had to write an essay about what made you happy— there’s a lot, how were you supposed to fit your ideas in?!

Akaashi begins writing, wasting no time as he scribbles his thoughts down elegantly and with ease. His attention’s shifted as he hears you groan from beside him, rummaging through your bag; his eyes drifting to the blank sheet on your desk, he assumes you probably lost your pen.

As to not disturb the quiet room, he merely pokes your side gently with his pen, eyeing you as you look at him in surprise. “Than-” you purse your lips immediately when he brings a finger to his lips to remind you to be quiet. “Thank you,” you whisper as the butterflies go wild in your stomach when your fingers slightly brush the setter’s soft ones.

He’s done with his essay, not really feeling like submitting ahead because he’d be the first one. He takes his leisurely time to observe his surroundings— wait no, who cares about his surroundings? He wanted to observe you, as if he hasn’t done it enough ever since highschool.

“Wait, I forgot to include my dogs,” you mumble to yourself, an involuntary small smile immediately finding its way to his lips. Adorable as always, y/n-chan. You weren’t doing anything special, you were simply writing, stopping every once in a while as you were in obvious thought before you happily scribble down again.

His brows raise and his lips part, a surge of too overwhelming feelings filling his chest. It was unfair, however ordinary you act, you made him feel too much, like how you take in the sunrise through the city’s edge, and the sunsets that reddened the blue sea.

“Akaashi-kun,” you say his name, Akaashi setting aside the emotions that literally came out of nowhere. “Are you done with yours?” You ask, fighting the tingles you felt as you look each other in the eyes for seconds too long.

He shortly nods, looking away from you. “Then shall we hand it in together?” You ask, sounding hopeful. You didn’t even have to ask twice as he wordlessly gets up from his seat, too flustered to utter another word; waiting for you to get up as well so you could walk up front with him behind you.

four months ago

“Keeijjjiii!” You scream, an instant smile forming on his lips at your loud voice as he gets some books from his locker. “Keiji,” you say again, now standing beside him, slightly leaning on the locker beside his.

“Ohayo, y/n-chan,” he greets without looking at you. You slightly pout at the nonchalant lad before you, opening his locker door wider so that you could see his face. “Ohayo, love of my life,” you smile brightly and he offers you a slight chuckle in response.

“Did you eat breakfast?” He asks you after finally closing his locker. “Yes sir,” you grin and he nods in approval before the both of you make your way to class. He may not have known you knew, but you were very much well aware of how he was secretly placing a hand underneath your bag to lighten its weight on your shoulders.

“What are you smiling about?” He asks, glancing down at you. “You,” you say with no shame, it’s been like this everyday anyway; constant flirting and Keiji brushing them off thoughtlessly.

He sighs at the look on your face, a smile now on his lips when you looked away from him. “You make me smile too, y/n-chan,” he says, looking ahead and maybe overthinking a little too much whether he should take it back or not. “I know,” you smugly say, and all he could do was laugh a little as you put him at ease like how you always do.

two months ago

“I told you not to wait,” he sighs, your arms wrapping around his waist as you hug him from behind. “It’s already late y/n,” he mumbles, holding your hands in his to warm them up. “I’m sweaty too,” he adds, stroking his thumb over your skin.

“Y/n?” He asks in concern, you were oddly silent, staying still as you rested your forehead on the back of his shoulder. “Keiji, I need a hug,” you meekly say and he immediately knew something was wrong. “I’m sorry for popping in all of a sudden after your practice,” the guilt in yout voice making his heart clench, he doesn’t want you to feel bad about it.

He untangles your hold on him before he turns around to face you, hugging you against himself. “It’s okay,” he mutters, leaning down to your ear, “I needed your hug too.”

You both stay in that position for a while, Akaashi patiently waiting for you to tell him what’s wrong and you knew he was expecting you to. “I love you Keiji,” you say, your voice muffled and you could easily feel him tense and freeze up against you.

“For real, I’m in love with you,” you whisper, your hand clutching on his shirt tightly as you nervously await his response. He lets out another sigh, and you had no idea in hell whether it was a good thing or not. “And I loved you first y/n,” he says, lips brushing lightly against your ear.

one month ago

“I’ll head to practice,” he informs you, ruffling your hair as you both stood on the last step of the stairs. “Don’t strain too much,” you pinch his cheek, Akaashi quick to pull your hand away before he nods at you.

“I love you,” you call out, watching the flustered Keiji turn on his heel to face you once again as his ears turn pink in embarrassment. “Y/n lower your voice next time,” he lightly scolds, but you return his look with a pout, “don’t you love me?”

“I love you, y/n,” he says in a quiet voice, “then ask me out already,” you stick your tongue out at him but he only smiles, his eyes holding all the love in the world as they look at you.

three weeks ago

Bokuto sighs from beside him. “What’s wrong Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asks, looking at the seemingly depressed owl that sat beside him on the bench during their break.

“Promise you won’t laugh at me Akaashi,” he pouts and the former nods at him. “There’s this girl, she’s majestic, she’s really really pretty and nice,” he sadly says, looking down on the floor. “What’s the problem?”

“Y/n L/n’s too good for me,” Bokuto sighs, head falling back, oblivious to the fact that Akaashi had short-circuited almost immediately. “You guys are pretty close, can you tell me what kind of stuff she likes? I talked to her a few times when she waits for you in here,” he pouts, looking at his friend.

“And I’ve never wanted anyone more than her, Akaashiii,” he dramatically says. “Please say you’ll set us up,” Bokuto puts on his attempt to look like a cute puppy.

Akaashi clears his throat, not meeting his gaze. “I’ll see what I can do, Bokuto-san,” he says in a low voice, guilt, hurt and confusion making it hard for him to breathe all of a sudden.

present

Bokuto grins down at you, as you laughed at the joke he just said. “Do you wanna watch me practice later, y/n-chan?” He gleefully asks you, excitement in his eyes but you couldn’t help the sad expression you wore at his words when you remember Akaashi.

“It’s okay! Totally okay if you don’t want to,” he nervously puts his hands up before him. You were about to respond to him when you see the all too familiar raven-haired setter blended in the crowd inside the halls, your eyes glued to the back of his head.

“I’m sorry I have something to do, talk to you later Bokuto-san!” You hurriedly call off, making your way to Akaashi. “Keiji!” You call, you knew he heard you, but you also knew just as much that he’s pretending to not hear. He’s been ignoring you for almost a month now and you plan to show him just how stubborn you are.

“Keiji,” you breathe out, momentarily caught off guard when your eyes meet again. He glances down your hand that was holding his, he knew he shouldn’t savor this moment too much but he can’t bring himself to pull away, he missed your too much that it ached for every single second of everyday, a non-stop reminder that he has hurt you and that he was hurting too.

“Keiji, please, stop this already. Are you really gonna let this on forever?” You desperately say, your brows furrowed as you look up at his eyes that seemingly held no emotion. “I told you y/n, I’m really sorry but I was confused, I don’t want you to wait for me to ask you out— I just can’t imagine myself being that for you,” he softly says.

“I’m really sorry y/n, you’re just not the one for me,” he says with finality, your teary eyes twisting the blade that pierced his heart. Without thinking he lifts his hand, about to cup your cheek, about to do such a sinful thing— is it really too bad if he kissed you right now? Can he really not be with you?

“Akaashi Keiji, I love you, please don’t do this to me,” you whisper, and he was about to say those words back too. He was so close to pulling you in, to lose himself in you, to have everything back to normal; but from behind you he saw his best friend, the senior he had so much to thank for.

“I’m sorry y/n.”

You watch him as he walks away, knowing fully well that when the love of your life Akaashi Keiji decided on something, there was just no turning back.

206 notes · View notes

soulwillower · 4 years

Text

buttercup • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

requested: Would you mind writing a Richie Tozier X reader soulmate AU where Richie is VERY self conscious and he finds out that the reader is his soulmate and the reader is well known and very pretty, so he’s just like djjdjfgjjcbvnfnf but once they actually meet she really likes him? :0 thanks if you consider!

warning: swearing, angst, richie being edgy and also a bit unstable (king shit), neuroatypical richie!!!, fluff, soulmate au!! <33 also sorry this may be rough, i havent edited it at all

[reader + losers are in college]

lmk what u guys think of this one,... idk LOL

4.1k words

♡

richie was about to be sick. yes, he really, really was going to vomit in approximately ten seconds and he didn’t know what he was going to do. the room, full of barely-adults chugging jungle juice was sweaty and bustling and the walls were closing in on him quick. those people who weren't in the main rooms were doing sniff in the bathrooms and blocking his pathway to heaven (the toilet) so he quickly stumbles towards the sliding-glass door.

he passes a guy who claps his shoulder and says in a deep voice, "you good, bro?"

no, no. he's not good, bro. thanks for asking, though.

as he finally breaks free of the plastic, out of the crusty balloon that was holding his body hostage, he takes a deep breath and sprawls himself on the back deck, staring up at the clouds in the nighttime sky. maybe he should go home and mull this over, before he crams it down his own throat and chokes to death, alone and broken on the back deck of a 22 year old business major's rental house.

he laughs to himself - an image which he's sure would be a full on maniacal scene to an onlooker - as he lights a cigarette with very shaky fingers. even if he chooses to give this situation some thought, he will end up being forced regardless because this is, quite literally, richard tozier's destiny.

y/n y/l/n is richie's destiny, and it makes him feel like complete shit.

you see - his whole life, richie knew about the fucking soulmate tattoos. of course he did, everybody did - it was, like, one of the first things you learn, ever. he knows that there's basically a soulmate for every person and often times the soulmate marks were different, the ways of finding your soulmate were wide and far.

for most of richie's life - actually, almost all of it up until the last month - he'd had a big, fat 0 tattooed on his arm and below it a humiliating phrase that was quite the epitome of richie himself.

yet it never changed, which led him, his friends, and his parents to determine that he'd gotten a time-counter soulmate mark, which he likes to pride himself on believing he did not give a single fuck about.

the number is supposed to count the amount of time that you've spent with your soulmate, and there's usually a sentence or phrase that's associated with your soulmate's first thoughts of you below it. and yeah, of course the first thing the lucky guy or gal thought of richie is 'wow, those are the ugliest socks ever.' pretty fucking on-brand, if richie says so himself.

so yeah, he never really paid attention to his soulmate mark - partly because the thought of emotionally opening up to someone enough for them to know his whole and true self was repulsive and terrifying enough to make him physically ill, enough for him to develop a crazy sense of humor as a less-than proficient coping mechanism for the insecurity and fear that lives in his mind rent-free, 24/7 365. but mostly he didn't pay attention to the mark because, you know, he thought it was lame.

that is, until it changed from the 0.

it happened on the first day of classes fall semester of this, his freshman year of college.

which, honestly, was a huge fucking bummer, because he literally came into contact with almost 800 new people that first day through classes, dorms, walking around campus, and the dining hall. and yet, as he got back to his dorm and smoked a bowl with bill, he'd noticed that his arm had said 00:51:26.

bill had been so excited he'd almost lifted richie through the roof, because 'holy sh-shit, rich, y-you did it!'

it was hard to believe someone was out there for him, though. and yeah, he didn't give a fuck about it, but he also kind of did.

richie, now thinking back on that day, groans a bit. if he'd just known, if he had just fucking looked at the thigh of the girl in front of him with the soft-looking grin and the alluring scent of orange creamsicle shampoo, who'd smiled a bit when he borrowed a pen - if he'd just known then that y/n was meant to spend the rest of her life with him, he could've... well, he's not really sure what he could have done.

he thinks to that moment in time, as he was blowing smoke out the dorm window with bill and giggling as he ate an entire bag of cheez-its, and how much he wanted to know who it was back then.

but tonight, it had become a nightmare when the information practically fell into his lap. he's at this house party in late september, and about five minutes ago it was just boring enough to warrant sitting on the rug in the living room and just fun enough to actually stay.

“-yeah, she said the first time you guys met was in microeconomics, right?” ben says, and richie huffs in agreement as he picks at the skin on his nails. ben was talking about her again, and richie's heart was beating stupidly hard. y/n, one of his closest friends that he'd made outside of the losers, never failed to make his heart run a goddamn marathon.

“-she told me the first thing she noticed was that you were wearing socks with sandals. and she thought that your socks were really ugly.” he finishes with a laugh and richie’s head snaps up at that. he feels chills spill over back as if he’d been doused with ice water and he gapes at ben. “wait, what?” richie shudders, the words escaping his lips quietly enough that his friends mistake it for a forceful exhale brought on by offense at the word 'ugly.'

“well she was right to think that.” stan says from behind his solo cup, carefree, as if richie’s life wasn’t crashing to an alarming and unbelievable halt. eddie giggles faintly somewhere from the floor where the losers are sitting, but richie’s mind is reeling too much for him to react to or even comprehend anything.

“rich, i th-thought i got you to st-stop wearing socks and sandals so long ago.” bill adds, laughing into his hand. but richie’s barely registering any other fucking information because he’s staring at ben, who is finally noticing his friend’s perplexed face. “you good, rich?” ben asks carefully.

“wh-er, wait. what exactly did she say?” richie asks, really not wanting to know the answer and yet wanting to know more than life itself. it can't be her. he’s getting odd looks from everyone now, but he's starting to breathe quickly and he thinks he might vomit. he kind of regrets never showing anybody but big bill his soulmate mark, because he's suffocating right now in embarrassment and bill is a little too drunk to assume what richie's assuming right now.

“wait, y/n y/l/n, right? from my dorm. she’s here tonight, she told me- oh, y/n!” stan calls, looking directly over richie’s shoulder. it happens so fast. y/n, in the flesh, walks past at just that moment, breaking out into a breath-taking, world-halting smile. richie's chest hurts worse than it ever has before as she waves and bustles over to plop herself next to richie. and holy shit, she's wearing shorts because even though it's cold out, the house is warm and richie can see dark ink on her thigh. a soulmate tattoo. he can't draw his eyes away even though his brain is screaming to knock it off because there's going to be something there he doesn't want to accept, but he then does it anyways.

he almost hyperventilates as he reads the words emblazoned on her thigh,

27:36:08 and right below it: "holy hell her hair smells like orange creamsicle"

he almost sobs right then and there as she greets him with a soft hand on his shoulder, completely unaware of their fate and richie has to stand up abruptly because he can literally feel the numbers changing on his arm as the seconds go by with y/n at his side.

and now, mere minutes later he's out here, laying in self pity as anxiety claws at every inch of his body and fear tingles on him like the slight presence of snowflakes falling on his skin - briefly he wonders if, as an older man, he'll wonder how he never got cold wearing nothing, vulnerable as he welcomes in that falling snow.

he would be totally daft not to wonder how he ended up with a soulmate like her, someone not only so fucking attractive but so kind and undeserving of a monstrosity of a human like him. she is, in every place he isn't, a complete and utter success of a person; he's a hurricane where she's whitecaps in the sea, he's loud and abrupt while she is kind and outgoing. maybe they do work well together, hell - they spend enough time on study dates outside of class for him to know that he does really like her. but richie also knows his standoffish, happy-go-lucky and untamed personality paired with his unwillingness to make himself appear vulnerable to most people will probably have a very large impact on... whatever it is that happens with y/n.

because that's really the point, isn't it?

she is stuck with him. bucky beaver, the trashmouth, mr. i-can't-keep-my-trap-shut-for-three-seconds. y/n, the most incredible person in this world, is the kind of person that was designed for richie to admire from afar, as he is so willing to suffer through. because as much as it hurts to watch her and to love her without loving her, it is a thousand times safer for both of them than the inevitable look of disappointment that will befall y/n’s angelic features when she discovers who her burden of a soulmate is.

the thought makes richie choke out a weak sob, sitting up and digging the heel of his palms into his sockets, trying to scrub out the image of himself from his brain. awful, awful, bad.

he takes a long drag from his cigarette and for a brief moment he wonders if, just maybe, she’ll love him back eventually. the thought makes him feel like crying all over again.

huge nose, big teeth, awkwardly skinny and too tall. maybe he's got nice hair, but he sometimes wakes up too late and can only brush his teeth and swipe on deodorant before he's sprinting out his dorm with his pickle socks and stan's old sandals, trudging to class and getting in the way of y/n's future.

but he is her future, after all - how can that be right?

he doesn't have enough time to take another drag from his cig as he hears the glass door open, the noise from the party bursting through the gap in the foundation of the house and sending him back to five minutes, ago, inside. he cranes his neck and can't bring himself to be surprised when he sees her, backlit from the party inside and figure in his mind standing like the only being in the world.

she thinks he looks devastatingly beautiful tonight. she loves the awkwardness in his bones, the way he carries himself with confidence although she's not sure he always really has it. he's wearing some dumb socks again as usual, though they're mostly covered by his black pants and red high-tops this time. it makes her smile softly.

she wants to know him, really know him, as more than just a classmate, a crush, a boy who's friends with stan uris from the floor above her own room. she wants to feel his large hands on her in more than just fleeting greetings, knucks to the shoulder or jaw. she wants the sharp taste of nicotine and mint from those life savers he was always sucking on in her own mouth as he holds her tightly against him, she wants to know everything about him and be with him, even if they aren't somehow destined to be forever. which, she thinks with an array of wild animals tumbling around her chest, they might be.

after all, someone at this party is her soulmate, and she's almost 99.8% sure it's richie. it gives her the most beautiful butterflies she's ever had, even when he stares at her from the deck with glassy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"what’s up, buttercup?” is all she says, in her mind because he's stunned her to near-silence once again by just existing, and in his mind because she is the most perfect being.

he doesn't respond despite being completely charmed by her, because he's breathing in the nicotine and its making his fingers twitch and even though he's sober by now, he thinks he may be tweaking a bit, mostly from the overwhelming set of information that just smacked into his face when y/n walked over into that room.

he watches as suddenly she's dropping herself so she's sat next to him, her legs swinging off the edge of the deck. she eyes his cigarette. "that's so unhealthy, rich." she says softly, teasing but with a lacing of truth behind it that really makes richie itch to never smoke ever again in his life. but he's a stubborn ass, so he instead takes a deeper drag, maintaining eye contact. he can feel one tear slip from his eye and he feels so fucking melodramatic as he does so, but he's at the lowest he's been in a while, so he gives himself a bit of credit.

she reaches out and pulls the cigarette directly from between his lips, sending him a pointed look as she presses it out on the finished wood of the deck. he wipes the tear away when she's not looking. and as she turns back he smirks, unsure what else to do, as he blows the smoke out of his mouth towards her face.

"hi, toots." he says in what he hopes is a normal tone, despite his blotchy and tear-trailed face. she blinks her eyes owlishly at him but just shrugs, "you left a little prematurely back there. what, do i smell that bad?" she jokes. no, he thinks, you smell like orange creamsicles.

it's bittersweet, the irony in her statement. because he knows that she probably knows what she smells like every day, as it's literally tattooed right on the meat of her leg, on display for her and whoever else lucky enough to find themselves being acquainted with the skin of her upper thigh. the thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

maybe if he were feeling a little less in-the-dumps, a little less like a complete and utter disappointment and failure that ruined this sweet girl's life, he would have ribbed her back a bit. you know, grind her gears in typical tozier fashion.

but he's exhausted and so distraught that he can't bring himself to even look at her. "i'm not in the mood" he grumbles, his heart pounding. she frowns, tilting her head.

"okay, what's wrong, richie?" she asks, and it's in that caring voice that she uses that isn't pitying but simply solicitous in nature. her calming force on him is obvious and immediate and his teeth stop rattling around in his head

he wants to scream because she's burning warm and perfect while he's frigid cold inside his body; a wasteland full of broken slinkies and half-formulated 'your mom' jokes that are melded to the crust of him with the tar that's been sucked straight from those damn ciggies. for crying out loud, if he were to so much as touch her, she'd get corrupted.

she notices as he scoots a bit away from her, and her heart hurts. he's so upset, clearly, and yet it hurts her that he can't trust himself or her enough to open up; no fault of his own surely, but heartbreaking all the same. "i care about you, and i really want to be here for you." she says it like there's going to be more, but the words kind of die in her throat as she realizes the extend of her words.

holy shit, she thinks, i'd go to the ends of the earth for him. if richie asked me to, i think i'd probably kill the queen.

"i stubbed my toe, and it really hurts." he says then, and the absurdity of his excuse makes her laugh out loud, head tilting back towards the moon as the bubbly giggles tumble from her lips. she looks at him after and his face is a twisted mix of affection and utter pain, a combination that hurts her to her core but lights a fuel in her that makes her want to help him.

"it's true." he mutters, motioning to his shoe limply, and she looks at his foot, the tip of his converse scribbled in sharpie with the word 'half-brain' and then a bunch of hearts.

"i like your socks." she says absentmindedly, grinning at him as she says it, voice teasing. but the reaction she was hoping for was nowhere to be seen as richie suddenly heaves a hiccup-sob, one so upsetting and quiet that she thinks she misheard it.

but he's keeling over and clutching his face with his hands, shaking his head, and her heart breaks. "richie, honey please tell me what's going on. or i can just sit here, if you'd rather-"

her sentence is cut off with richies own rushed words, expelled from his mouth so quickly that it's almost as if they were trying to escape while his lips tried to hold them in.

"-you're going to have to spend the rest of your life trying to force yourself to love me, and that terrifies me.”

as he says it, his stomach twists itself inwards at his admission and he thinks he's going to be sick. he doesn't deserve you, you're going to resent him for it. she's silent for a few moments, and he doesn't dare look anywhere near her as tears trail down his solemn cheekbones and drop onto the black corduroy that wraps around his jittering legs.

"richie, please, what are you trying to say?" she says quietly, sounding scared, nervous, upset... richie did that. it's his fault. he tilts his head back, his brain buzzing in guilt. "fuck," he says, and it comes out broken, "you... i- you're my soulmate." he says, looking down to where his chest rises and falls almost unnaturally, a consequence of muscle memory being tampered with by the lethally college combination of nicotine, alcohol and marijuana on an empty stomach.

earlier he was afraid that if he opened his mouth too wide he would lose control of his tongue and then the words would come out without him wanting them to, but he knows he's basically sober by now, as sober as y/n is next to him - he's just neurotic, but he doesn't want her to know that, because oh god, what if she hated him for it?

she wouldn't, right? isn't she supposed to find a way to love him?

this was a really stupid idea, but in his mind it was one that had to be done. shutting his eyes, he tugs the sleeve of his left arm upwards, taking a shaky breath. again, it's silent as she reads the words written there. wow, those are the ugliest socks ever.

she stares at the words, and the number above it, then she looks at her own thigh, where the exact same number counts on in time with his.

he wastes no time, though: "-don't worry, doll. i've got it figured out, we can just- maybe we can get yours covered and you don't have to think about it anymore. fi-find someone better, like, oh, bill - he'd treat you nice i think. just- we don't have to think about it, i'm sorry." he says in one breath, not looking at her at all.

"richie, how can i be yours if you're not mine?" she says thickly because she's fighting off tears wondering how someone so incredible and full of life could feel so undeserving.

"you can't want me, you can't." he insists, not looking at her as she gapes at him because if he were to look at her expression he may lose it. it's quiet again in their own little world here, the air silent and numbing as y/n takes a breath.

"oh my god, wait richie how are we this stupid?" she asks, perking up and lightly slapping his arm. he looks at her in shock as she begins to laugh, "we've been alone together so many times. how did we not notice?" she asks, and he chuckles a bit, shrugging.

"maybe we're not the sharpest crayons in the drawer, toots. all i'm sayin' is that i figured it out first." he says cheekily, and secretly both of them are shocked to see how quickly they fell together, as if the knowledge that they were made for each other made all their insecurities fall away.

her face softens again. "you know, i saw my timer counting tonight and i was hoping more than anything that you'd be here. that we'd be-" she adds softly, a hand landing lightly on richie's thigh, sending licks of flames up his body. she takes a breath and restarts. "do you know how fucking bad i wanted it to be you?"

and just like that, y/n unintentionally provides a luscious mix of words and tricks that fill him with barely enough confidence to let him bet when he knows he should fold.

what's life without a little risk?

he meets her eyes for the first time in a few minutes and hers are large and hopeful as they wait patiently for him to give her something. but he still can't speak without running his mouth, so instead he cups her cheeks. her lips part slowly and he stares in awe at her raw beauty, unable to hold it in longer.

he presses his lips to her quickly and to her it feels like he is trying to prove something. it makes her heart soar as he comes alive against her, pressing as enthusiastically as she is into him. he tastes, as she'd guessed, like nicotine but mostly like a mint and it makes her grin as he pulls back.

"is this okay?" he's asking then, his thumb soothing over her cheek sweetly and giving her the same butterflies she gets when he smiles; the very same butterflies that release when he says anything to her, when he comes to her dorm for a study date with two red bulls in his hand, and when she realized their tattoos beat the same.

"yeah, of course." she whispers against his lips, the feeling of his teasing lightly making her sniffle. she presses their lips together again, this time warmer, more comfortably and his hands move to her hips and tug her closer, her hands winding to his neck as his own hands explore her body, caressing her sides gently. he pulls back and holds her softly.

"your hair smells nice." he says sheepishly, and she grins so widely she thinks she may split in two. her heart flutters as she looks into his eyes, finding nothing but love. "orange creamsicle, huh?" she asks with pink cheeks, and he laughs lightly, nodding his head. "best smell ever, babe."

"you make me happy." she says it onto his lips again, and the shiver that runs down his spine is a feeling he wouldn't mind feeling forever. his heart soars because he believes her, he trusts her. she wouldn't lie to him.

"we're so dramatic, aren't we?" richie jokes, his walls sliding back up a bit, but as y/n cuddles into his chest, head against his beating heart as she presses kisses to his neck, he realizes she accepts him.

"yeah, well. we're made for each other, aren't we rich?" she asks gently as his hand falls to brush over her thigh, right over the words. "that's right, toots." he says softly, looking down at her hairline softly, still in disbelief that it worked out for him. she turns to look at him, cheeks dusted a bit as she leans up to press a kiss on his lips.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @simplesammyx @dickology64 @clownsloveyou @baby-yoda-a @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @lets-vibe-bro @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @finnskindofwoman @kait-tozier @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs

#richie tozier x reader #richie tozier has adhd #losers x reader #bill denbrough x reader #stanley uris x reader #mike hanlon x reader #eddie kaspbrak x reader #ben hanscom x reader #beverly marsh x reader #losers club x reader

247 notes · View notes

giorno-plays-piano · 4 years

Text

Run, Hide, Leave behind

Pairing: warlock!Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: yandere, obsession, swearing, stalking, mentions of kidnapping, death of minor characters. Words: 2354 Summary: He was following you with such persistence as if you had mortally offended him once. It had hardly been a week, but you felt like you had spent an eternity lurking in the shadows, expecting the warlock to appear right in front of you any second. P.S. Oh, Nasuverse magic system... One day I’ll make a better story about it. _____________________________________ This place gave you creeps: abandoned medical facilities looked scary even on TV, but hiding in one of them at night by yourself was much more frightening. You would never come here if you had a choice. However, the one hunting you down did not particularly care for your fears, chasing you like a true police dog. The only reason why you came to an abandoned hospital at the outskirts of the city was because Wanda sent you here, saying that your shielding magic might work better in this particular location. Since you had no more places to hide – he destroyed every one of them, leaving dead bodies behind – it was your last refuge.

As you walked down the empty corridor, your sneaked into one of large rooms with several steel beds and no mattresses. The old creaky floor was dusty and bubbling, one of the windows boarded up, the others so dirty you could hardly see anything but silhouettes of the huge pine trees surrounding the hospital. Sighing, you took out a piece of chalk and got on your knees, drawing an uneven circle and started scribbling around it. You doubted it would really work when everything else didn’t.

The medallion on your chest got heavier with every word you whispered, and you thought how stupid it would be to die for just some old artifact. Sure, it carried the magic of the ancient, such power a mage like you could hardly imagine, but it was also the reason it was completely useless to you. Only the most talented and experienced magicians were to enjoy its power, while your pathetic charms could not even activate the medallion. You only kept it because it was your family’s heirloom, the one thing that was left to you by your parents. If you had ever known that it could nearly destroy your life, you would give it up the first time you saw Bucky.

Yes, he was the very same mage who was chasing you now, the legendary Winter Warlock who could cover the whole city in snow and ice in the middle of summer. You could still hear Wanda’s screams once he literally blew the door along with the half of a hallway with his magic.

Why was the medallion so important to him? He was above all the sorcerers you had ever known. He probably had tons of magical artifacts like this, the silver glove he wore on his left hand being a much more powerful item. Moreover, since Bucky Barnes was a well-known outlaw of the magic world who had been in hiding for years, it was odd he came out now. He was following you with such persistence as if you had mortally offended him once. It had hardly been a week, but you felt like you had spent an eternity lurking in the shadows, expecting the warlock to appear right in front of you any second.

The sacred symbols were glowing with gentle golden light as you finished creating your shield, probably the only thing you were more or less good at. It was a great pity your shields were just the means of protection, nothing else. You saw once how Pietro’s Bounded Fields cut an arm of a mage who wanted to break through, but you were so repulsed by the sight of blood and someone’s suffering that you have never tried to learn this type of magecraft.

Nonetheless, even Pietro’s charms were not good enough against someone like Winter Warlock. He was amongst the few ones who could use True Magic. They said he even knew the spatial warping spells.

You heard a loud bang and felt your skin crawling. Warlock was here, in the corridor on your right, you could see his massive distorted form through the open door – a dark cloud was slowly turning into a tall beefy figure. Apparently, Barnes was keen on keeping himself in a good physical condition.

You swallowed, your heart pounding wildly. It was the end of you. Quickly removing the medallion from your chest, you looked at it and bit down on your lower lip. You asked your ancestors to forgive you for not being able to keep your heirloom safe and stood up. When Tony, the head wizard of your coven, had given up on helping you, you knew you will die in a matter of few days.

“It’s nice to see you waiting for me.” Warlock said in a low voice, and you shivered: he had always been silent every time you saw him. Something was different today.

You could not utter a single word in return, watching him entering the dark room and smirking at the sight of your pathetic golden shield. He raised his right arm, and the chalk was immediately erased from the dirty floor, living you with no protection against his magic whatsoever. Well, it was worth a try.

As he advanced towards you, his black cloak almost reaching the floor, you suddenly reached out for him, having a medallion in your hand. Maybe he could give you an easy death then, you thought. Maybe he would not, but now there was nothing you could do about it. For some reason you were unable to end your own life – three days ago you tried to drink the poison but dropped the bottle once your lips touched its top.

“Why?”

Warlock narrowed his icy blue eyes, and you gasped for air. Did he expect you to fight him? Was he thinking you had to die an honorable death for your heirloom? Surely, he knew your pathetic sorcery couldn’t even reach him through his own magic circle.

“You wanted to have it. Take it then.” You managed to say meekly, watching the red star on his shoulder, a symbol of deadly blood magic user. “Anyway, there’s nothing I can do to protect it.”

“The medallion?” Bucky chuckled, coming closer to you with each step and watching your body tremble. “You think I’ve been following you the whole fucking week for this?”

Despite his harsh tone, he carefully took the artifact in his flesh hand and then touched the dull metal with his silver fingers, making the medallion shine all of a sudden. Ah, his power activated it.

“I… I thought… you reached out for it when you came the first time.” You mumbled, confused. “I have nothing except it. Nothing valuable.”

Suddenly, he tilted his head back and laughed loudly, still carrying the medallion in his hand. You were taken aback by his response and just froze on the spot – what the hell was happening here? He tried to snatch this little piece of metal from your chest once he spotted you. If he wasn’t coming for it, what else could he possibly want from you, a low mage who had only discovered her powers a year ago?

The corners of his eyes crinkled once he grinned at you, coming so close that you could feel his breath on your skin. He didn’t punch you, though, or hurt you in any other way. Bucky simply put the medallion back on you again.

“Look at me closely, little girl.” He demanded, and you stared at him like a rabbit in front of a snake.

Before you could realize what was happening, his face features started to change, the magic making him look younger, healthier as his dark circles and pale skin were transforming slowly. His dark long hair became much shorter, his smile less threatening, and in a few seconds, you were looking into the face of a young soldier James you had met something like a month ago in an amusement park. In fact, you started going out with him - he was probably the sweetest men you had ever encountered, gentle and caring. James was one of a few people who could make you laugh to tears with his jokes, too.

But a sudden appearance of Winter Warlock ruined everything. You had to hide, and since James knew nothing of your magic powers, it was very unclever to get him involved in all this. So, you simply stopped calling him and then dumped your phone shortly, afraid for both his life and your own. You were scared Warlock could do something to him once he learnt James was important to you, but, thankfully, it had never happened.

Then it suddenly occurred to you that you saw those icy blue eyes before. It’s just that time you thought they were the same color as the winter sky, and you told James a few times how unusual they looked. He was both proud and somewhat shy about it.

Clenching the medallion in your hand, you felt tears filling your eyes and stepped back from Warlock as he reversed his magic, and his hair grew back again, his face tired and aged up.

“Is this how you entertain yourself?” You barked at him and wiped the wet tracks with you shaking hands, but tears kept streaming, nonetheless. “Pretending to be someone you’re not and having fun with a mage who can’t win against you? Do you enjoy hunting people down that much?”

“No, I don’t.” He said sternly and made a step towards you while you kept going back. “You brought it upon yourself, don’t you think?”

“And what have I done?” You tried to fight back the tears, thinking of all the times you spent together, talking nonsense, having fun, laughing. It stung. It only made you cry harder, and you turned your reddened face away from his. “What didn’t you like? Didn’t my kisses feel nice? Or was it the way I dressed? Were you mad at me because you didn’t get into my skirts?”

“Oh, I could get there pretty fast if I wanted to, love.” Bucky smirked, and you sent him a glare. How could this bastard be your James, the man who spent all his money to win you a teddy bear in an amusement park? How could he play his role to perfection, making you never even once doubt his intentions? Did he use a love potion or charms of some kind to draw you to him? With his level of skill, it would be easy. Maybe it explained why you fell in love with him so goddamn fast.

“Then what the hell do you want from me?”

You realized he had cornered you only when your back was pressed into the cold wall beside you. Although you were ready to die just mere minutes ago, now you wanted to fight. Regardless whether you could use magic or not, you were ready to make everything a bit harder for Warlock rather than silently submitting to him.

“Why didn’t you come to the cinema that night, little girl? I was waiting.” His smug smile faded, and you felt fear rising up in your gut again. “I’ve been waiting for a damn hour for you to show up or send me a message. When you didn’t, I went to see you only to find a pretty blond guy taking care of you in bed.”

The color drained out of your face when you remembered the night when you didn’t come to see the movie you two chose. Warlock was right. You weren’t there for James because you had a migraine, and Pietro and Wanda came to put some soothing charms and help you relieve the pain. It was Pietro who had casted a sleeping spell when his sister was in the kitchen doing her herb potion.

When Warlock came to ruin your house in the middle of the night, you chose to run, completely forgetting about apologizing to James. You had no time for it. You fled immediately and never thought of the night when you were supposed to meet him in the cinema, instead thinking of keeping him away from the mess you got yourself into. It was impossible to link these two events in your head as Bucky had never said why he was following you in the first place. Of course, for you the only logical reason was the artifact.

But in the end, he didn’t want to grab to your medallion. He was reaching out to touch you.

Well, at least it explained why he was trying to tear Pietro apart, almost chopping his arm. If not the Bounding Fields and Wanda’s teleportation spell, he would be dead for sure.

“I was unwell.” You forced the words out of your mouth. “Pietro and Wanda were there to heal me.”

“Did they, truly?” His cool silver hand gently touched your wet cheek.

“Give me the Truth Potion then.” You almost spat in his face, clenching your hands into fists. “Go inside my head, see the truth for yourself. You blame me for something I have never done when you made me believe you’re a nice man, used me, manipulated my feelings, and then hunt me down like an animal. God, you had almost killed the man who only tried to help me! You murdered several trespassers who weren’t ever wizards at all!”

When you finished, you felt your hands going limp as you could no longer control your own body. You felt like you were floating in the air, your legs too weak to keep you standing, and you let out a small sob. Did you forget in your rage that you were talking to one of the most powerful dark magicians? He could kill you with his thumb.

“If what you’re saying is true, you’ll get your sweet soldier back, love.” A dark smile slid across his lips. “Or would you prefer me, the mage? I bet I could give you much more as a sorcerer. I could teach you to use your medallion, give you the power you’d never even dreamt of. Believe me, you’re going to like it.”

“I want you to leave me alone.” You said under your breath, frightened and distressed, but his hand was already on your chest leaving a bloody star on your grey jacket.

“Too late, dear. You’ve made your choice a month ago.”

#dark bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes #yandere #bucky barnes x reader

265 notes · View notes

t-o-m-hollands · 4 years

Text

Locksley Hall - Part II

Summery: Tom doesn’t know quite how it happens, but one moment he’s working as the gardener at Locksley hall, and the next he’s run of to marry the lords daughter, a girl he hates. Set in England, 1920.

Word count: 5500 (sorry...)

Pairing: Tom x OC

A/N: Again, this is heavily inspired by the first part in Atonement – Ian McEwan, but the plot is different.

Music wise: For Madeleine’s parts I listened to Old Money – Lana del Rey and for Tom’s part I listened to NFWMB and Work Song - Hozier.

R E A D P A R T O N E H E R E

Gideon’s cottage - 1920.

Tom is awakened by yet another expensive automobile driving up the road and past his cottage. His brain works slowly, still half asleep, one foot in a dreamland where he’s chasing someone in a labyrinth made out of peonies. Slowly he wakes his body by moving his toes, and then his fingers too, before stretching his arms over his head, letting out a tired groan. His body feels warm and his limbs lethargic and slow, as they do after a particularly long nap. For a long while he lays there, eyes half-closed, staring at the dust aimlessly drifting in the sunlight.

Another car passes by outside.

Downstairs he can hear Mr. Higgins doing the washing up. If he concentrates, he can hear the guests from the ball chatting and laughing up at the manor. If he concentrates further still, he can hear the blood pumping through his system, steady and slow.

The whole world feels slow. Like the air in the room stands still, despite the wide-open window. It is mid-July, and the heat feels oppressively persistent, there is no escaping it. Only now, as the clock is nearing eight in the evening, does the world seem to cool. All morning he’d worked in the garden, preparing the grounds for the ball under the watchful eyes of old Dowager Locksley. When she was finally satisfied that there wasn’t a dead leaf, not a single weed, nor an unwatered rose in sight she’d sent him off, ready to attack the kitchen staff instead. He’d walked down to Locksley bay. There he’d rid himself of his sweaty, earth-stained rags and he’d swam until his body felt cool again before returning to the cottage for a long and well-deserved nap.

He stretches again and groans. He desperately wants a smoke, but his pack of cigarettes along with his lighter is all across the room, thrown on the cluttered desk along with countless of books and an old typewriter that the library had given away. The letter M was irreversibly lost and therefor it had been deemed useless. He’d taken it with great gratitude, glad to have something he’d normally wouldn’t be able to afford. It had amused him, typing long passages without using any word containing the 13th letter of the alphabet. In a strange way it thrilled him, that some words in the dictionary simply became forbidden for him. Suddenly out of reach.Words like magic, monarch, melancholy, magnetic, maddening, maiden,

Madeleine.

Finally he gets up, walks across the room and sits down by his desk. He lights a cigarette. Staring out the window he watches as yet another car makes it up the driveway to join the ball.

The sky outside is lilac, and the first evening breeze makes its way through the grass like a wave in the ocean and he prays it’ll make its way through the window to cool his head. He inhales deeply, but the sinking feeling he’s had in his stomach all day stays where it is.

And half of his mind is still in his dream.

Had he been better at drawing he’d drawn her hands, soft and small compared to his calloused ones. Maybe if he’d draw them, he’d be able to get the picture of them out of his mind. Those hands, gracefully holding a cigarette as her eyes, dark and deep and framed with long lashes, observed him with great disapproval as they’d discussed poetry. She always looked disapproving when she was observing him. She’d worn a evening gown in the finest silk, and his ratty jacket over her shoulders, her normally perfectly pinned hair falling down in cascades over her shoulders. It had felt strangely intimate, seeing her like that, so undone and wearing his jacket

Swearing, he puts out the cigarette. He’d been distracted, not noticing how it’d burnt down to the butt, burning his fingers. He doesn’t light a new one, but leans back in his chair, runs his hand through his hair and tries to calm his breathing.

It hadn’t always been this way.

Once upon a time, they’d been friends, hard as it was to believe now. They’d defied gravity when they’d climbed the great oak three behind the cottage. He’d taught her how to swim in Locksley bay, held her up in the water and told her to fill her lungs with air in order to float. She’d taught him how to read. His teacher in the village school had called him slow, so she’d sneaked out books from the library, and with patience of a saint she’d taught him how to recognise each symbol until he could make sense of the words.

She’d been his first kiss.

It had only been a small peck on his lips, lasting not more than a second, but it counted. He counted it.

She’d find him in the greenhouse, crying over the trashing he’d gotten from Mr. Higgins for attacking Francis Locksley. Silently she’d sat down beside him, her long dark hair in a braid and dressed in her Sunday best, having just been to church. She’d taken his bruised knuckles in her hands and she’d kissed them, before kissing each tear streaked cheek, and then ever so briefly, she’d pressed her lips against his. He had felt like a knight, being awarded by the queen for his brave service. He hadn’t known what to make of it, but she’d held his hand in hers and he’d leaned his head against her shoulder and for the longest time they’d stayed that way until he’d forgotten all about stinging bruises and tears.

He lights another cigarette and another car drives up the driveway.

The sky is now a dark blue, the last evening light turning the leaves in the trees golden. Earlier that day Mr. Higgins had put out lights all along the drive way to the manor house and they now lit up the summer evening.

Against the evening sky he sees a bird shoot up, rising to the sky.

Once when they’d been children they’d found an injured songbird in the woods. He’d watched as Madeleine with the gentlest of fingers picked the bird up. He’d watched as she held the wounded creature in her hands, as she observed its broken wing. She’d looked at him then, her dark eyes sad, and she’d told him they’d have to help it heal.

So they’d gone to Gideon’s cottage and he’d sneaked her in, while Mr. Higgins worked in the garden. She’d placed the songbird on his bed. While she was kneeling in front of it, as if in prayer, he’d taken out bandages. He’d watched as she’d gently wrapped it around the bird’s wing. She’d looked at him, and told him to sing. She’d said that it would make the bird feel safer, that it was what she used to do to baby Beatrix when she was crying. So, he’d sung a song to the poor harmed thing, while Madeleine patted its head.

For seven days the nursed it, making sure the wing healed as it should. It had been their secret. She’d snuck out of classes with her governess and he’d faked being ill until Mr. Higgins let him be home from school and they’d sat in his room, and he’d sing for them. They kept the bird in a box, on the lid of which he’d put air holes in, and she’d placed her cardigan in the bottom of it, making sure it was soft to sleep on. They’d feed t worms Tom had dug up in the garden and Tom would sing to it every night.

In the end the songbird had healed, and they’d released it in the woods again and watched as it flew away, awkwardly at first, nearly toppling towards the ground before it found its strength again, slowly rising until it was only a speck of black in the distance. He’d held her hand, biting down hard on his bottom lip to keep himself from weeping, while she had cried openly, pressing his hand in hers. They’d hid in the labyrinth until late that evening, far away from nanny and Mr. Higgins. He’d sung her songs until she’d stopped weeping.

Tom stands up, puts out his cigarette and stretches out one last time. Then he walks out, leaving his memories in the smoke-filled room, heading towards the pub.

The Wild Boar, the village pub

“You ever think about headin’ out of here?” he asks his friend.

They’re in the village pub, The Wild Boar, throwing back beers. A Victorian pub with murky green wallpaper, beer-stained velvet booths and worn mahogany wooden floors. The atmosphere is always good and someone is always singing. Harrison, who most days works in the bar but is enjoying a rare day off, calls it his home.

“What, go somewhere else to drink, you mean?”

“No, no, I mean like leave Milchwood, go to London or something, head somewhere else you know”.

Harrison gives him a puzzled look and Tom can tell he doesn’t feel the same. They’re both comfortably leaned back on each side of the booth. Around them the other patrons are talking loudly, discussing this and that, enjoying their Saturday night and the unusually warm summer weather.

“No” Harrison answers in the end “no, I mean, it’s home, yeah?” He drowns the last drops of his pint, waving to the bar for another before looking back at Tom, “you feel like leaving?”

“Dunno, maybe, sometimes” he says. “’is just, some days I want nothing more than to head out to Milchwood station and take literally any train away from here.” He takes a long gulp of his own pint.

“Well, why don’t you?”

It takes some time for Tom to answer. He keeps his eyes on the dirty window in front of him. Far away he can just make out the silhouette of Locksley Hall. They are all up there now, the lords and the ladies, having a ball.

“’s just hard to leave you know.” He takes another gulp of beer as the bartender places another pint in front of Harrison. “Spent most of my time in France wishing I was back here and now” he waves his hand in front of him, as if this would explain the strange sinking feeling he’d been walking around with lately. “Now it feels like it all stands still, like I’m just walking around, waiting for something to happen.”

Harrison gives him a worried look “but what’s keeping you here then?”

“Dunno, it’s just, it’s hard to leave”.

He doesn’t have ties to this place the way Harrison does. He has no other family part from Mr. Higgins. Mrs. Higgins had taken him in when he’d been nothing more than a baby, but she’d passed away before his fifth birthday. He hardly remembered her. Mr. Higgins had kept him on, and despite his stern ways he’d been kind to the boy, and taught him all he knew of gardening and thus ensuring that Tom would have a future secured. But Tom knows that Mr. Higgins wouldn’t mind if he took off, that maybe he’d even expect it.

“Yes, we saw ‘em, didn’t we Billy!” Owain Murphy’s loud voice booms from the booth beside theirs.

“Yeah” Billy concurs, nodding his head and staring down into his glass.

“Yeah, we saw ‘em, all ‘em gently folks up at Locksley Hall”.

“Yeah” Billy nods again.

“They say the ‘eir is being married off!” Owain bellows.

Billy is too busy drinking now to agree.

“She looked a vision, didn’t she Billy?”

Something twists uncomfortably in Tom’s stomach. He drowns his beer and nods to his friend. It’s time to leave. The night air is cool and he takes deep breaths of it as he steps outside. They walk and chat for a while, before hitting a fork in the road, saying their goodbyes and promising to meet up for another pint the next day they then part ways, Harrison walking to the house he shares with his parents and little sister, and Tom steers his feet to Gideon’s Cottage and Locksley Hall.

He can see the lights from the building, hear the piano music even from outside. Across the lawn people are taking some fresh air, surely they’ve been dancing for hours. They’re all dressed in their finest clothes, heavily bejeweled. Tom closes in on Gideon’s cottage, and he can’t wait to throw himself on the bed and sleep for a few hours. Tomorrow is Sunday, the day for resting, and he’s free as a bird.

A flash of white moves in the corner of his eye and he looks over.

By the enormous rhododendron bush stands Lady Madeleine Locksley, wearing a silky white gown that somehow plays tricks with his brain; for when he first lays his eyes on her, it looks to him as if she’s wearing nothing more than moonlight, the diamonds from her tiara glistening in the night.

For a moment it feels as if he’s actually gotten the breath knocked out of him. Owain Murphy had been right, she did look a vision.

A man joins her, his hands clasped behind his back. He’s tall and blond and even from this distance he can tell she’s bored with the conversation, but she politely goes along with it.

Tom walks into the cottage, closing the door behind him.

The cliffs of Locksley bay

The Atlantic Ocean spread out in front of her, wide and far and impossibly blue. She’s standing on the cliffs beside Locksley bay. If she were to turn her head to her left, she would see the docks with the boats lined up one after the other, each more impressive than the last. It is summer, and high season for travellers. Would she instead turn her head to her right she would see the bay, and the people playing in the water, lying in the beach and soaking up sun. Enjoying themselves and cooling themselves off in the unusually warm weather.

But she keeps her eyes far ahead.

Out on the water she can see sailing boats slowly drifting over the landscape. It’s not a good day for sailing, not even up here on the cliffs can you feel anything more than a gentle breeze. The heavens are almost violently blue, not a cloud as far as the eye can see. In the sky seagulls fly, screeching as they go and she inhales deep breaths of the ocean air. She feels so far removed from them all, the people on the boats and the ones on the beach.

Her lungs feels tighter, there’s a scream in them that needs to get out.

She takes a step closer to the edge.

A pair of arms grabs hold of her and pulls her in against something hard. “What are you doing?!” A familiar voice inquires angrily in her ear.

He pulls them both a few steps back, away from the edge, before turning her around to face him. Anger clear on his face. His chest, still close to hers, is heaving.

“What are you doing?” She asks, not quite managing to match his level of animosity. His hands are still holding a firm grip around her arms. She pulls herself free and takes a step back, trying to create some distance between them, though she swears she still feels the heat radiating of his body, his scent, which she’d briefly inhaled, surrounding her.

“Were you going to jump?” he asks in a serious tone, his warm brown eyes intensely searching her face for something.

“No” she says, voice firm, and he relaxes somewhat, though he still looks angry. That frown, seemingly permanent on his face whenever she’s around. “But it wouldn’t have killed me if I had, people jump from here all the time”

“Sure, but not young heiresses”. He sounds almost sarcastic and she can feel her blood nearly boiling. Her diamond heart beats faster in her chest.

“Have you?”

He observers her for a heartbeat, like he’s searching for something in her face. The long days spent working in the garden has given him a nice tan. His brown hair looks windswept and he’s not wearing his usual uniform of muddy trousers, suspenders and a dirty white shirt. Instead his clothes look washed and clean; he’s wearing his Sunday best, linen suit trousers, clean white shirt and suspenders that don’t look quite as worn. His arms, well developed from all the hard work, fills out his shirt in a way that makes something inside her flutter, and she hastily looks away.

“Yes” he answers in the end. “Yeah, me and Harrison jumped it last year”.

“Yet you’re so against me doing it?”

He’s silent for a few seconds, and she can tell he’s weighing each word carefully. “I just, I didn’t take you for a thrill-chaser, is all. It surprised me”.

Now he’s avoiding looking at her.

“So, how was the ball?” he asks eventually, having to fill the stale, strange silence.

“Long” she answers and sighs. “Awfully long, and dreary”.

“Poor girl” he teases, but she wonders if there isn’t real malice underneath. “And how is your betrothed?”

She narrows her eyes at him. “James is not my betrothed” she says, trying to keep her voice calm. He’s got his hands in his pockets, an arrogant look on his face and she wants to scream at him.

“Huh” he says, “I heard you were being married off”.

“Well, I’m not. Not yet”

“So, what’s he’s like, this not betrothed man of yours”

He sounds so nonchalant, and it’s making her skin itch with irritation. “He’s nice, actually”.

He scoffs, “nice?”

“Yes! He’s very nice, unlike certain people! And he gave me a book of Wordsworth poetry”

Tom snorts “you hate Wordsworth, you always have”

“How do you know?” She asks, annoyance clear in her tone.

“You told me” he answers, and he sound so certain of himself.

“Yes, when we were children, I might have changed my mind since!”

“You haven’t though”.

“Funny isn’t? All the things you remember?” She tries to sound superior, but she’s not sure she accomplishes anything. He’s still standing there, hands in pockets and a devil-may-care smug smile on his face.

“You find him dull”.

“How do you know if I find James dull or not! You’ve never even met him! Maybe I find it fascinating to talk about dog breeding and horses!” you scream at him.

But he just smiles wider. “I was talking about Wordsworth. You find Wordsworth dull. But clearly I hit a nerve”.

She’s so angry she’s speechless. From the village they hear the church bells ring.

“We should go” he says and nods to the path back.

“No”

“Lady Madeleine, -”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Well, it is your title”.

“Oh, like you give a toss about people’s titles! I’m Madeleine and we used to be friends, or don’t you remember that part?”

“Alright Madeleine” he says slowly, like he’s talking to a particularly petulant child, “we better head home now, they’ll want you back for dinner”.

“I don’t want to” she says stubbornly. “You head back. I’m staying here to watch the sunset”.

“They’ll just sent me out to look for you if you´re not there for dinner, let’s go”.

She takes a deep breath and a step backwards, towards the edge. “You know, I’m so tired of everyone telling me what to do all the time, were to be and what to think, and how to feel”. She takes another step backwards and the smugness on his face is soon replaced with worry.

“I’m so tired of people telling me that I can’t do things when they have no issue doing it themselves”. She takes yet another step back and as he reaches out for her, realising what she’s about to do. She turns around and runs toward the edge.

“No Maddie, don’t!”

But she’s already taken the leap.

Locksley Hall

The next morning she wakes early, though it feels as though she’s hardly slept at all. Memories plays behind her closed eyelids from the day before. The cliffs, Tom’s arms grabbing hold of her, the argument, the jump, the fall, the splash, the sinking, the searching for the surface. And then, a hand grabbing hold of her, pulling her towards the light.

He’d jumped in after her, had thrown himself of the cliff in his Sunday best without any hesitation.

He’d always been the better swimmer, he was the one who had taught her after all, and luckily it hadn’t taken him long to find her beneath the surface.

They’d swam ashore, dragged themselves up in their heavy, wet clothes watched by the bathers who looked at them, some agog and some in chock. (“Is that not lady Madeleine?”)

He’d been furious, practically steaming with anger. It hadn’t mattered how many times she’d tried to talk to him, tried to apologise, he’d only ignored her and kept steering his feet forward to Locksley Hall. Only when she tried to thank him for having saved her did he respond.

“Don’t” he had uttered, his resentment almost palpable.

They had been walking through a path in the woods, sun shining through the canopy, painting the whole world a bright green colour, and she stumbled after him, keeping her eyes on his wet white shirt, his suspenders holding of his soaked beige trousers.

She too had grown angry then. Had tried to argue with him. Tried telling him that he was overreacting, that no one had forced him to jump in as well, that it would have been better if he hadn’t, that they both knew he wished he hadn’t and suddenly -

She’d been pressed up against a tree, his face just centimetres from hers, both their chest heaving with conflicting emotions, his arms on either side of her face, in the most beautiful trap.

Madeleine untangles herself from her many sheets and blankets and walks to the window to pull apart the curtains and let in the morning light. The grounds outside are empty, no one is yet awake. It must be very early indeed, for even Gideon’s cottage seem peacefully quiet.

She opens the leaded window and drags in deep breaths of fresh air, but her lungs still feel too tight. She fishes up a package of cigarettes from one of the pockets of her silk robe and with trembling hands she lights one. Everything is set now. She is to marry Sir James Hatfield, and settle down at Hatfield house in all its ugly Tudor glory. It didn’t matter if she smoked in the house anymore, she wouldn’t stay here much longer.

With picture perfect certainty she imagines married life with Sr Hatfield. Endless conversation of the breeding of horses, hunting and dogs. Her life spent doing things the way they have always been done at Hatfield house, keeping up with the traditions of a family she has no interest in. And then, several blonde little children would come along. All boys, all taking after their father in looks and manners.

Her life would surround around them. She would be Lady Madeline Locksley no more, but instead, Lady Hatfield. She would have to leave Locksley hall, leave Benie,

leave Tom.

The thought startles her, and she gets up from the window ledge, starts walking aimlessly round the cluttered room.

Using her empty tea cup from which she’d drank her evening tea the night before as an ashtray she puts out her cigarette, and with hands trembling more than ever she lights another, before throwing herself back on the bed.

Tom.

Who surely hated her now. The achingly long moments when he’d trapped her against the tree plays again in her head. She’d seen so many emotions on his face, his chest heaving from all of it. First there had been anger, then confusion and then, unless she wasn’t entirely mistaken; because god knows her experience was non-existing in the area,

- lust.

But he’d torn himself free, and marched off, without looking back. And she’d stood leaned against the three, feeling like a planet spinning out of its axis, struggling to remember how to breath again.

When she walked into the great hall she’d been met with her mother, Benie and granny. Upon seeing her, they’d all gone completely silent, the only sound to be heard the water dripping off of her, landing on the newly swapped floors.

“Oh Madeleine!” her mother had eventually burst out “what’s happened?”

She had told them she’d been at the cliffs, and that Tom had come along, but then her granny had interrupted her. “Are you telling me” she’d asked in her superior voice “that you were ‘hanging about’ the cliffs with the junior gardener?” The disapproval in her voice was evident.

“No” Madeleine had answered, trying to keep her voice steady and calm. “I’m saying that I was there, and he was there, he annoyed me, and then I jumped off the cliff”.

Dead silence again.

“You, you did what?”

“I jumped off a cliff. And then he saved me. And now, I really must change, so would you please excuse me”. The wave of emotion that washed over her had surprised her, but suddenly she’d been holding back tears.

““Madeleine, I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, but you need to go and get changed, right now. Sir Hatfield is invited for dinner, and you will behave yourself and you will conduct yourself accordingly” her mother had told her in her sternest voice. So, Madeleine had nodded and walked up the stairs, choking back on tears, her wet clothes leaving a trace of water in her wake.

And she’d changed and Alice had done up her hair and she’d joined the others for dinner. And she’d sat beside James at dinner and listened to him lecturing her on various dog breeds and she’d smiled appropriately. Then, after dinner, he’d taken her aside. Professed in a dry tone his admiration for her and asked for her hand in marriage. He’d told her that he’d already settled things with her father. She had smiled and complied and tried to press down the feeling of nausea in her stomach, tried to ignore to scream growing ever larger in her lungs.

She stands up again, puts out her cigarette, takes one of the many dresses scattering the floor and slides it on. Then she’s out the door. With silent steps, as to not wake anyone, she makes her way down the corridor, and then down the grand staircase and the foyer and out the door. The pressure in her lungs grow tenser and tenser and her feet move faster and faster, until her naked feet are sprinting over the grounds, the dewy grass cold under her soles. When she finally reaches the greenhouse, she’s sobbing.

This had always been her secret place. Not even Tom had known about how she’d used to come here when things became too much, when things would build and build inside of her until she had to let it out. Like it was a living, moving thing in her chest, begging her to set it free. Knowing that the old greenhouse was the only soundproof place in all of Locksley Hall it became her safe place to let it out, she’d always steer her feet here. When she’d been to boarding school, and then in Canada, she’d been forced to try letting the scream free under water, no other place felt safe enough, but it hadn’t felt the same.

She slams the door shut behind her and then she lets it out. Nearly bending over from the force of it she shrieks, for as long and as loud as she can. Her eyes pressed shut and trembling hands in fists. When she finally stops it still seems to echo in her ears, and she feels exhausted. She’s breathing as if she’s just run for miles and miles. Slowly she stands up straight again, unclasping her fists. Opening her shut eyes.

Tom.

Standing in front of her, looking shocked and horrified, hands and shirt muddy. He must have been in here for some early work before the heat gets too intense.

They stand there, for a long time, just staring at one another, her screams still echoing in her mind. And then, like she’s a wild animal, he slowly walks towards her. Taking her hand in his, an arm around her waist, he gently guides them towards the pond, on the side of which he helps her sit down. Bending down in front of her, so that he’s on his knees, he looks up at her, a strand of brown hair falling down, framing his face.

It’s so tender, the way he looks at her. So unbearably tender. His earth-stained hands clasped around hers, placed in her lap, calloused and warm.

“What happened?” He asks, voice soft and low.

She doesn’t know when it started, too distracted by his gentleness perhaps, but she realises then that she’s crying, two tears falling from her cheek and landing on their hands.

“I’m just being silly” she responds, but her voice sounds hoarse and dead even to her own ears.

“I doubt it, what’s wrong?”

“I, I” she begins, her lungs feeling tight again “I have to marry.”

His kind eyes blink up at her, and for a moment she swears he holds on tighter to her hands.

“But you don’t want to.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. “Why do you have to?” His thumbs stroke her trembling hands and it feel and it is the gentlest thing that’s ever happened to her.

“There’s no male hair. So, if papa dies before I marry, we’ll lose everything”. Her voice is hoarse from screaming and she wonders if he finds her pathetic, but in his eyes she only finds sympathy, and maybe a fair share of pain.

“But you don’t have to marry Hatfield?”

She shakes her head, and more tears fall. “No, but he’s the best option. I can’t afford to wait”.

Silence for a while as he observes you.

Then,

“What if I’ll marry you?” his voice is steady, but his eyes are fixed their clasped hands.

“What?”

“I’ll marry you” he states and looks up at her again. She stares at him in disbelief, for surely, he can’t mean it. He continues. “I know it’s not a good option, but the estate will be safe, and you won’t have to marry Hatfield, you won’t have to leave Locksley Hall.”

When she just keeps staring at him in silent disbelief his cheeks turn pink. “I know I haven’t got anything to offer; you know I don’t. But -”

“Alright”. Her answers comes without her thinking about it and it seems to catch him off guard. “But, are you sure?” she asks, worried that he doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into.

“Yes, Madeleine, I’m sure” he smiles, his hands continuing to gently stroke her hands.

“But, but” she starts, feeling almost dizzy. “But why would you want to marry me?”

“What?”

“Why would you help me? It would change your life forever.” She keeps her voice serious, knows that it’s of utmost importance that he understands the importance of this.

He seems struck silent and for a long while his brown eyes stare up at her in disbelief. “Well I, I mean I would, I” he starts, letting go of her hands and standing up, placing them his pockets instead. It is like he’s trying to look as nonchalant as he usually does.

Turning slightly away from her, eyes fixed on the koi fish in the pond he then continues. “Well, I’d get to live in Locksley Hall, wouldn’t I? I’d be the lord of the manor. No more hard toil in the garden”.

“So, mostly self-interest then?” She says, not knowing whether she feels more relieved or disappointed. More than anything she feels light headed.

“Yeah” he agrees, eyes still fixed on the pond. “It’s self-interest".

Silence spread between them. This is new territory that neither one knows how to tread.

In the end she stands up and he turns to look at her again, something like worry in his expression. “We, well we’ll have to discuss this. If it’s to happen it needs to happen soon.”

“It is to happen” he says, firmly, but then his cheeks turn pink again. “As long as you want it to”.

“Well then” she says, a small but genuine smile on her face. “It can’t happen here; Gretna Green is our only option. We have to come up with some excuse so we can leave for Scotland for a few days”.

He nods, but he too looks more relaxed now. “I’ll think of something”.

“So much to be fixed” she says, mostly to herself. “Wedding dress for example, though the wedding will be so small only something simple will do.”

“Could you” he begins, and he avoids her eyes again. “You could wear that dress you had on at the ball” he asks awkwardly, fidgeting slightly where he stands.

“Oh, yes of course” she says, just as awkward. “If that’s what you want”. She smiles at him, and he smiles back. Its embarrassed, but it’s tender too.

“Meet me at the fountain tonight?” he asks, and that strange fluttering sensation she’d felt when he’d pressed her against the tree makes another appearance. “To discuss how we’ll do this?”

She nods “yes, I’ll see you then. I better get back now, or Alice will notice I’ve left when she brings in breakfast.”

She turns to leave, but changing her mind mid stride she turns back to him. When she reaches him she stands on the tips of her naked, now muddy, feet. She presses a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you” she whispers.

***

PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK IF YOU CAN

***

Taglist: @londonmademedoit @isthataladybag @ceexreverse @daygiowvibe @averyfosterthoughts @applenter @viwihere @youcompletemess @marvelpeters @youngsenpaibaby @duskholland @vanillanestor @panicattheeverywherekid @primadonnasdream @adorestarkey @johnismyreason @fancybrittrash @farfromhoran @sushiinmidnight @midtownxparker @theamuz

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland headcanon #tom holland imagine #tom holland x oc #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland x fem

93 notes · View notes