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shy-indulgent-writer · 2 years

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Eskel x GN!Reader - “Crush at First Sight”

lambert is in this fic because i love him, and i’m sorry. (well… i’m not that sorry, i really do enjoy writing him)

sorry it’s been a hot second since i last posted, midterms were killing me ^^;

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The first time he stops by your establishment, you’re taken aback by how gentle the man in front of you seems despite his appearance

Not that his appearance is bad, no not at all, in fact he’s rather charming— he’s tall with broad shoulders, his face is just the right size for you to hold in your hands, you’d love to lay kisses upon kisses on his forehead, and his scars make him seem intimidating, but he’s actually very polite

“How much to stay for a night?” He looks around the place, and you can’t help but to feel pride as he smiles in satisfaction

“Ten crowns.” You wait for his reaction. You hope he doesn’t choose to go somewhere else for the night, but you can’t go much lower than this— you’ve already knocked a good amount of crowns off from the normal cost!

He looks around pensively, the hesitance in his posture making you fear that you’ll never see him again, but he begins speaking. “Are you sure? That doesn’t seem like a fair price to you.”

Oh… he’s sweet too? You’d marry this man in a heartbeat despite barely knowing anything about him.

“That’s alright, Mister Witcher! I heard about how you helped the family in town with a contract today. They’re practically my own family, so I really appreciate it.”

“If you’re sure the cost is alright with you…”

He pays you accordingly and you lead him upstairs to one of your best rooms. Not that you’re biased but…

“I hope to see your handsome mug in the morning, Mister Witcher.” You press the room key into his hand, briefly relishing in the warmth coming from him. “I’ll make you some pancakes if you come down early enough.”

You walk back down to the front of the inn, waiting to see if anyone else would come tonight.

Eskel on the other hand is frozen in shock. He never expected to receive such kindness today (or ever really) so it was a pleasant surprise

He’s not completely sure if he’s deserving of such treatment though— surely you must have something you want him to do for you

A bit uneasy, he goes into his room and glances into the mirror across from his bed.

“Handsome, huh?” He traces his scars gently with his fingers before settling into the room and getting ready for bed

The next morning, he comes down a bit nervous, but you greet him with a smile and bring him to the small dining area you have

“Good morning, handsome! Give me a minute and I’ll whip you up a hot plate of pancakes, alright?”

You’re glad that he stayed the night, if anything he’s very peaceful and respectful in comparison to other patrons you’ve had, making him an ideal visitor you’d happily serve

You make sure no one else needs you before you go to make his pancakes, humming to yourself as you cook

With his enhanced senses he can hear you, the corners of his mouth raising slightly in response

When you return with the pancakes, a whole stack of them, you give him a pat on the shoulder. “I’ll be back in a few to see if you need anything else.” You leave him to his meal, talking to another guest while hoping that the mysterious witcher wouldn’t leave today.

You come back to him waiting at the table, his utensils stacked on top of each other, and a sheepish smile on his face. “They were good. I couldn’t stop eating them.”

“I’m glad! How long are you planning to stay in town? I can make you some tomorrow if you’d like.”

He looks a bit sad as he tells you that he needs to leave this afternoon because he heard of a monster in the next town over

“Oh, I’ve enjoyed your presence, even if it was only for a little while. You’re always welcome back here, Mister Witcher.”

After he’s left, you go to clean up the room he stayed at, finding a pleasant surprise

In messy handwriting the note says: “Thanks for everything.” and there’s even a little drawing of a wolf at the bottom

Cute.

As you tidy up, you realize you never even exchanged names

You meet him a bit over a year later when he’s back in this town, stopping by your inn with some hesitance

You haven’t forgotten about him, it would be difficult to do so, and you often daydreamed of him coming in to stop by

You’ve always imagined a return with smiles and overall joy, but instead you open the door to find the witcher and his horse covered in blood and smelling absolutely horrible

He hears your heart race as you open the door for him; he feels sorry— you’ve treated him so well and he comes back a disgusting gut-covered mess

“Oh! Erm,” you do your best not to gag as you speak, “you can come around to the back, I’ll get you some water so you can take those clothes off before coming inside!”

You struggle to carry the large basin of water, and it sloshes and gets parts of your clothes wet, but it’s all worth it when you return to the witcher, taking in the sight of him in his smallclothes

You try not to stare too much as you leave him to his own devices, leaving a towel nearby for him to use

He pours some of the water over himself, groaning in relief as he finds that the water is heated

He does the best to get out the muck and guts and uses the rest of the water to soak his clothes in

He comes inside, only a towel around his waist as he waits for you to notice him, watching as you flutter from place to place, making sure everything is in order and everyone is helped

When you see him, he thinks he imagines the way your eyes widen and a flush crosses your cheeks, but the tell-tale rapid beating of your heart gives you away

Oh. Perhaps your heart hadn’t been racing out of fear, but embarrassment and joy.

Eskel hopes that’s the case because despite him not even knowing your name, you put him at ease and seem genuinely kind

You lead him to the room he had last time, a small tub with more warmed water waiting for him

“Do you need me to do your laundry? I can lend you some of my uncle’s clothes if you don’t have anything for tonight.”

Right, his clothes and his bags were a bloody mess, and Scorpion was bound to be grumpy if you try to take something off her

“It’d be much appreciated if I could borrow some clothes for tonight.”

You’re about to leave him so he could bathe, when he stops you at the doorway

“What’s your name?”

You turn back to him and answer with a smile, and you receive one in kind

“I’m Eskel. You don’t need to keep calling me Mister Witcher.”

“Right then, Eskel.” You anxiously tap your fingers along the doorframe, unsure if he wants to continue conversation or if he’s going to strip now. “You have a lovely name, and I’d love to learn more about you once you’re in an um— appropriate state of dress.”

He lets out an embarrassed little laugh as you close the door

When he comes down to the small dining area, he sees you sitting at one of the tables, food for two spread out before you

You greet him and gesture for him to sit across from you

As you both eat, you learn a bit more about each other: what he typically does as a witcher, how you came to run your uncle’s inn, etc.

When the next day comes and it’s time for him to leave once more, you follow him out, feeling a bit melancholy

“Stay safe, Eskel. I hope to see you again sometime.” You come up to Scorpion and gently brush your fingers through her hair, and she inches closer to you, having become your friend after you gave her some treats last night. “And I hope to see you too, Scorpion.”

Eskel sets the last of his bags onto Scorpion, everything clean and free of blood, before he turns to you

“I’ll be back. I hope you don’t do anything too crazy while I’m gone.”

You laugh. “Eskel, I run an inn— what crazy things could possibly happen?”

“Becoming friends with a witcher, for one.”

You open your arms in an invitation, should he accept it, and your heart races as he stares at you in confusion

“A hug. If you’d like— I mean, friends hug sometimes, and—,” you stop your rambling as he sweeps you up into his arms, and enjoy the warmth coming from him

He smiles against the nape of your neck, and you fight back a shiver

“I like this,” he notes, unconsciously squeezing you tighter against him.

After he leaves, you do your best to remember how warm and safe you felt in his hug, sometimes pausing in your tasks to blush or daydream (something you find deeply humiliating when an older woman staying the night points out how she remembers when she was young and in love)

This probably wasn’t love— a crush, sure, but you’ve only met Eskel twice. To be fair, you felt attracted to him, more than just a physical attraction, when your eyes first met his.

If not love, perhaps a crush at first sight?

After coming to a realization about your growing feelings, you do your best to distract yourself with your work, but you still remember the way his scar moves as he smiles, the way he smells after just bathing, the way his breath felt against your neck as he hugged you

Yep, definitely a crush

He and Scorpion come by almost a year later, thankfully not covered in monster guts, and you feel like everything is right again

He doesn’t stay long, he never does, but everything else seems to fall away when he’s here

Eskel would never tell you or any of the wolves the significance of this, but he’s stayed at your inn three times, a surprising number for a witcher within the span of two years

Often witchers are kicked out, charged extra, treated poorly, or need to do something in return for a room, but you treat him so gently with genuine care and a willingness to be in his presence

He likes it here— to be more specific, though the inn itself is nice, he likes it because you’re here

He makes an effort to come by more frequently, and you’re always pleasantly surprised to see him

You wouldn’t know the traveling habits of other witchers, you figure him visiting this much or staying so close is common

A couple years pass and there’s a few changes: he starts to spend 2-3 nights every once in a while, talks become personal and deeper sometimes, after the hug he’s just started to be more touchy and open than he was before

You fall in love a bit more every time you see him

For a witcher, those years may just pass in a blink of an eye, but you’re human— you’re a mortal and your time will run out sooner than his would naturally end

You can feel some romantic tension, but is it enough to take the leap?

One day, he comes back, another witcher next to him

You learn his name is Lambert, and you feel a bit uncomfortable with the way he eyes you with such distrust and skepticism

“You’re the one this guy has been talking about, huh?” The ginger slings his arm around Eskel’s shoulders as he looks around the place, letting out an impressed whistle. “Eskel, I can’t believe you didn’t tell us you were staying at a place this nice.”

Eskel just grunts, half heartedly shrugging Lambert off of him

He’s a bit upset at the fact that Lambert was able to find him

Yeah, it’s his fault because he’s been staying close to this area lately, and it’s kind of selfish, but he doesn’t want to share you

What if you end up liking the others more than him? What if you realize just how disgusting and lacking he is?

Eskel doesn’t talk much to you as he pays for two rooms, hurriedly ushering Lambert up the stairs with him, leaving no time for you to talk to either of them

You’re a bit unsure of what to do— do you ready a bath or tend to their horses? Does Lambert even have a horse? Do they want to eat or are they fine?

You stand still, your indecision freezing you in place

Eskel seemed a bit closed off, and you can’t help the way your gut churns at the realization. What had Eskel said to Lambert that made him so wary of you?

You make sure all your other guests are okay before going outside to check on Scorpion— at least you’re aware of what she’s like, how she acts

It’s a great relief to hear her whinny excitedly as you approach, and you laugh when she bumps her snout against your face, sort of like a kiss

“Hey, girl. I missed you too.” The familiarity is comforting and you spend a good amount of time just petting her

“Is it just me, Scorpion, or is Eskel acting weird? He doesn’t hate me, does he?” You sigh, hugging her and resting your face in her mane. “I really like him, so I hope he doesn’t…”

You hear a chuckle from behind you and you stand straight up, startled

“He doesn’t hate you, angel.” Lambert has a small smirk on his face as he tells you this. “If anything, I’d say it’s the opposite of hate.”

You feel your face warm up in response

“Do you really mean that?”

“Of course. It’s been a while since Eskel has trusted someone as much as he has with you.” Lambert sighs, his body deflating a little. “Eskel and I don’t always get along, but he’s a good guy. Loyal, honest. From what he’s told me, you’re practically an angel, and if that’s true, then you’re good for him.”

Your heart races in your chest and you can’t fight a smile from breaking across your face

Eskel likes— possibly even loves you? And you got approval from Lambert?

“Lambert! Get away from them.” Eskel runs over, and you and Lambert looking at him in confusion until the ginger is promptly shoved onto the ground. “I heard your heart racing, did he hurt you? Did he say anything rude?”

“What—? No! No, Lambert has been nothing but kind and reassuring.”

You turn to Lambert, hoping he would defend himself, but he just shakes his head and looks at you worriedly

You look back at Eskel and see a small and hurt little smile on his face

“Oh. I see… Sorry to have assumed and interrupted.” He gestures back to the inn, his entire being heavy with dejection. “I’ll just uh… see you around.”

“Wait, Eskel!” You reach out to him, but he continues walking away, and your heart breaks

Lambert looks at you and gives a practically inaudible exasperated sigh before standing up and rushing towards Eskel, tackling him to the ground

“Lambert— what the hell?!” The other groans in frustration when he isn’t able to immediately push the ginger off. “Lambert, fuck off!”

“You arse, don’t assume shit!” Lambert and Eskel roll on the ground as they talk, their voices interrupted by hisses of pain and tired breaths. “You didn’t even let them explain! If you love them so much, then listen to them.”

“Lo—? I don’t— I don’t love them!”

You feel your heart break all over again, and Scorpion shifts a little closer to you, as though she can understand that you need comfort

“Eskel, get your goddamned head outta your ass!” Lambert sputters as he’s elbowed in the stomach, looking at you with panic. “Fuckin— fucking tell him!”

Well, this certainly isn’t how you thought any of this would go, but you owe it to Lambert at least, seeing how far he’s willing to go for you

“Eskel!” You start, daring to walk a little bit closer to their tussle. “I love you.”

Eskel’s grip on Lambert goes slack, and he yelps as he’s hit in the face.

“Shit, sorry— thought you were still gonna fight me.” Lambert climbs off of him, patting any dirt off of him before giving you a bit of space

“Eskel,” you go up to him and cradle his face in your hands, “It’s you. It’s always been you. Lambert was just encouraging me, encouraging us.”

One of Eskel’s hands comes up to rest against yours

“I’ve had a crush on you since the first time I laid eyes on you. I know you said you don’t love me, but if you’re ever willing, I’d love to keep loving you.”

You look into his eyes, only to be momentarily distracted by movement in the background; Lambert’s giving you a thumbs up

You chuckle a little and look at Eskel waiting for an answer

“You… love me?” Eskel takes a small step closer to you, his face nearly touching yours. “Really?”

Your eyes soften, heart aching at the fact he doesn’t believe you. “Eskel, I love you and only you. I’ve been pining after you for years— practically daydreaming about confessing to you.” You chuckle. “I mean, this isn’t how I imagined it, but I wasn’t sure if I could ever take the leap— I mean, I’m just a human, y’know? I wasn’t sure if you’d ever want someone like me.”

“I want you.” His breath fans against your lips as he speaks, and you feel your heart stutter in response. “I love you, I’m sorry for saying that I didn’t. I just— Lambert was here and you were smiling and your heart was racing and I just thought that you liked him.”

Lambert rolls his eyes and looks at Scorpion (who had somehow managed to gallop to his side throughout this entire affair). “Hey, girl. I’m helping them, why’s he gotta be such an ass?”

Scorpion just snorts, whether in agreement or disdain for how he’s talking about Eskel, no one knows, but Lambert laughs anyways

“Be mine?” Eskel leans in closer, eyes shining with a vulnerability you didn’t know existed

“I’m all yours.”

You kiss and your heart soars, and it’s more smile than kiss— teeth awkwardly hitting lip as you lean in, but it’s worth it and it’s perfect because it’s him

“Get a fuckin room!” Lambert jeers, unable to resist the urge to ruin the mood

I mean, you can’t get too mad at him— if he hadn’t tackled Eskel, who knows what would’ve happened?

You laugh against Eskel’s lips, and pull away in time to see Eskel flipping the other witcher off

All three of you talk late into the night, you often leaving their company to check on the guests, but whenever you come back it’s to Lambert’s gloating and ‘you owe me’s’ and Eskel’s equally embarrassed and exasperated ‘shut up’s’.

It’s nice. Being with Eskel is nice, having his hand finally hold yours, knowing what his lips feel like against yours— it’s all nice, everything you’ve dreamed of and more…

You can’t just leave your inn behind to go with him, but you can at least provide a safe haven whenever he or his family needs one

When he and Lambert prepare to set off the next day, you give them both hugs (much to Eskel’s displeasure), so you make it up by kissing him all over his face

Lambert makes puking sounds, but you and Eskel don’t mind, soaking up the remaining time you have in each other’s company

“Goodbye.” You wave to them as they begin to walk away, enjoying the way both of their faces light up as they turn back towards you. You wonder if anyone’s ever said goodbye to them like this. ��I’ll see you both again soon, especially you Eskel! I love you!”

Lambert laughs and Eskel gives a weak little chuckle

“See you soon, love.”

#the witcher netflix x reader #the witcher #the witcher netflix #eskel #eskel x reader #eskel x y/n #eskel x you #can be read as game or show eskel #reader insert #shy writer writes #witcher imagine #my writing #twn #the witcher fanfiction

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eloquent-vowel · 3 years

Note

I have had a few bucky x read fic ideas bouncing around in my head and i cant write! So here is one,

Sam find a person who stairs and doesnt talk a whole lot because they uses ✨telepathy ✨. So Sam think they would be a good fit for Bucky, but he doesn’t know they have that power he just thinks they are mute. Then there is a thing where the reader is telling Buck how it works and they if they have something to connect them together like an object *reader motions to dog tags* they can have an unbreakable mind link. Then they fall in love or something. This is dumb, thank you for coming to my TedTalk

Hey! Thank you so much for this request, it wasn't dumb at all. I really enjoyed writing this. I may have gotten a bit carried away, this may sit close to 4000 words but we vibe. I hope this is what you had in mind! Please enjoy! <3

Click here for my masterlist of other fics and check in my bio for requests if anyone wishes to ask!

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Bucky had been enjoying a moments peace, he loved working with Sam but sometimes all he wanted was to put his feet up, put on some vinyl and enjoy a good cup of coffee all while reading a brilliant book. He had been trying to get into Game of Thrones lately, on Sam’s insistence, and he had been enjoying it. With the crackles of Glenn Miller from the turntable he missed the clunky footsteps coming up the stairs.

The sight that greeted Sam needed to be photographed. Bucky was lounging back on his ‘old man armchair’ feet up, hair in a towel, in a bathrobe, coffee in hand and facemask on, this was definitely one for the family album.

At the sound of the phone shutter Bucky practically launched himself out of the chair.

“Oh, you are never gonna live this one down old boy, it’s going to haunt you.” Sam almost cackled evilly as he began to email the photo to himself- he had learnt the hard way that Bucky was very proficient at breaking phones.

“You better not upload that photo anywhere, Wilson, I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Pfft, reputation, that’s funny.”

Bucky scoffed as he stood up, placing his book carefully on the side table, “Big scary super soldier, people hardly run-in fear from a guy in a bathrobe.”

“I disagree, a man in a bathrobe is definitely something you should run from. AH NOPE!” Sam jumped backwards, on top of a nearby chair, as Bucky lunged for the phone, towel turban falling off in the process. “You are not breaking this phone as well.”

“Fine. But you gotta promise not to post that anywhere.” Bucky huffed.

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

“As long as- “

“Oh no, I’m not doing anything for you.”

“Think of it as payment for the last phone you broke and insurance for this picture.”

There was silence for a moment as the two friends eyed each other up. Sam raised his eyebrows, Bucky’s eyes narrowed. It was an intense staring match between a guy in a bathrobe and a precariously balanced man. A clock ticked.

“Fine.” Bucky conceded. “What do you want?”

“For you to come to a meeting.”

“The families of Veterans ones?”

“Yeah.” Sam slowly started climbing down from the chair. “And before you get your old man pants in a twist, I’m not trying to force you to talk or anything, kinda.”

“Kinda?” Suspicion laced through Bucky’s voice.

“You know sign language, right?”

“Which kind?”

“American? I think?”

“Yeah, I know ASL, might be a bit rusty but I’m sure it still holds up. Why do you ask?”

Sam shifted slightly on his feet, “There’s this person, they come in every week and listen. I tried to talk to them, but they communicate through sign language, and I don’t have anyone there to talk with them.” He cast his eyes to the floor, “I feel bad. They were brave enough to come to the group only to basically be ignored ‘because we didn’t plan well enough.”

Bucky smiled, face mask crinkling around his smile lines, “You could have just asked me to Sam. You didn’t have to blackmail me into this, of course I’ll help. When’s the next meeting?”

“This evening. You gonna be ready or do you need some more ‘me’ time.”

Bucky simply chuckled at Sam’s teasing tone, patted his shoulder making sure to squeeze just a bit too hard before retreating to his room.

“I’ll be there, Wilson, and I will look so much younger than you!”

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It was frustrating to you, going along to these meetings and not being able to communicate. You could always speak into someone’s mind but all that usually accomplished was a very paranoid person. But just listening to other’s stories really helped the grief from losing someone so close to you. You related to most of the people there and even though they didn’t understand you a lot of the time, you were always made to feel welcome- with friendly pats on the back and the odd tissue thrown your way.

You bustled into the familiar building with a new sense of excitement as Sam had promised to bring a translator for you this week. It was finally time to say your thanks to some of the people there and finally let the group know about your brother, so that it wasn’t only you that remembered him.

You all but ran through the hallways until you caught sight of a familiar smiling man. Sam was facing you, talking animatedly to another man, the strangers back was to you. He was tall, broad shouldered and dressed in a vintage looking leather jacket and rather well fitted trousers. Now the debate was: does the tailoring make the ass, or does the ass make the tailoring. You were halfway through the arguments on either side when Sam shouting your name disrupted the intense debating in your mind. You blushed at being caught, then blushed some more when you caught sight of the stranger’s face. Twinkling blue eyes under a deep-set brow should have made him intimidating, but he was smiling, and his face was dazzling. There was an immediate fluttering in your stomach.

“Hey, I’m Bucky.” Dear lord even his voice was nice, what made you smile even more was the fact that he signed as he spoke. Well, Sam certainly knew how to pick them well. “Sam introduced me; said you wanted an interpreter.”

You nodded as you signed back, “Nice to meet you, thank you for helping out.”

“No problem, Sam has told me a bit about you.”

“Good things I hope.”

“Okay I recognise my own name, you two better not be conspiring against me.” Sam piped up, to be honest you had forgotten about him for a moment.

Bucky laughed, and it sent a little thrill down you, he really was adorable.

“No worries, Wilson, just letting them know all your dirty little secrets.”

“Right, you two get in there, before you make me sleep with one eye open.”

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You and Bucky caught each other’s eye, his eyes were twinkling with mischief, and you couldn’t help the smile that overtook you. You had a feeling that the two of you would get on just fine.

The meeting passed easily. Bucky translated your signs and you finally felt like you could actually take part in these meetings. Everyone listened intently when you spoke of your brother and when you had thanked the whole group for being so open to you a couple of people shed a tear. By the end of the meeting though you were tired and very accepting of Bucky’s offer to walk you home.

It was a lot of side glances and hidden smiles and you walked side by side. Drawn to each other under the moonlit sky, it was nice to just be in the presence of someone who had such a kind aura. You spent the walk trying to work up the confidence to sign something, anything but nothing came to mind and Bucky seemed quite content to just walk in comfortable silence.

You soon reached your home, you turned to Bucky with a smile on your face and signed,

“Thanks for today, Bucky. You were really helpful.”

“No problem.” He signed back,

You hesitated slightly before signing, “Would you be happy to have a coffee with me, tomorrow?”

Bucky went a little red in the face, and chuckled, “I would love to, I know a nice place, real cosy. I’ll text you the details.”

“You know how to text?”

“Hey! I get enough stick from Sam, don’t need you getting on my case too. I’ll have you know that I am very adaptable.”

“Sure, Sure.” You smiled at his flustered tone. “I’ll wait for your text then, have a good evening.”

“You too.”

The two of you stared slightly awkwardly at each other, neither wanting to be the first to turn around. You shuffled your feet away slowing, smiling awkwardly once more at Bucky before turning. You heard his footsteps start to fade away as you walked towards your home. You were but three steps to the door when a large figure in a hoodie slammed into you, you raised your arms instinctively to block them when you noticed your shoulder was lighter. The bastard had stolen your bag.

You immediately took chase, chasing around the corner you just walked down but they were fast, faster then you at least. As you rounded the corner you caught sight of Bucky walking ahead. The thief wouldn’t stand a change against him. Without a second thought you cast your thoughts towards Bucky,

“Bucky! Thief! My Bag! Behind you!”

You saw Bucky flinch slightly then turn bewildered, his eyes widening when he saw you hurting towards him, chasing the hooded figure. He caught on and launched after the thief as well, with barely any effort he knocked the thief to the ground, grabbed your bag and whipped out his phone to call the cops.

Well, that was hot.

You took your bag back, immediately checking that you brother’s lucky coin was in the zippy pocket, to your relief it was still there. You looked up to see Bucky staring at you with a very puzzled look on his face. You sighed before casting your thoughts to his head once more,

“I’ll explain later.”

Bucky let out a strange, decompressed noise of shock, it made you giggle. The two of you waited in silence until the police came and took the thief away. The police car had barely driven away when he turned to you.

“Did you just, talk in my head? Or did my conscious just suddenly get really loud.”

“I did. Hi. Sorry about that.”

He waved his hands dismissively. “Believe it or not, not the weirdest thing I’ve encountered.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.”

There was an awkward silence.

“So,” You started, resorting back to sign language, it felt less invasive, “Still down for coffee?”

Bucky smiled, “One hundred percent. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Bye Bucky. Thanks for getting my bag back.”

“No problem, see ya.”

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The coffee shop that Bucky invited you to, was tucked away, it was the kind of place that you would stumble over on accident. With a simple door and a big window out the front, that lead soft orange light filter out onto the alley. There was the faint sound of jazz leaking out of the building, you smirked. It was such an old fashioned place, of course this was where Bucky frequented.

The bell tinkled slightly as you entered the café, where you were greeted with the smell of fresh coffee and baked goods. You caught sight of Bucky’s broad shoulders sitting in the corner, and you made your way over to him, smiling at the barista as you passed.

As if sensing you, Bucky turned to smile and wave. He was dressed in casual clothes like last time, but this time his hair was loose around his shoulders. You smiled back before settling into the seat opposite him.

His hands moved hesitantly as he signed, “What would you like? I can recommend their hot chocolate, its very warming/”

“Hot chocolate it is.”

You could tell he wanted to ask you a million questions but to his credit he walked slowly to get the drinks, he even took his time carefully carrying the tray of drinks back to your table. He placed a delicious looking hot chocolate in front of you. You watched as he took a sip.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1-

“So,” Here we go, “What is it you can do, you can speak in peoples’ heads, can you,” He lowered his voice and leaned in, “Can you read people’s minds?”

You giggled slightly, his eyes were basically sparkling, he was definitely nerding out about this.

You set the hot chocolate down before casting your thoughts to his head, “I can speak in peoples heads relatively easily, it’s how I talk most of the time to people I know. I guess you could call it Telepathy.”

Bucky’s eyes were as wide as saucers, “So you can’t read thoughts, only… speak them?”

“I like to call it casting, makes me feel like a sorcerer. I can read thoughts, but it takes a lot of energy. I used to be able to talk with my brother from across the house. That usually requires some kind of connection.”

“Oh, so like a blood or family connection? Do you have to know the person very well?”

“That certainly helps but it’s not always necessary. If I have a personal object that belongs to that person, something I can hold and connect to them it isn’t hard to make a two-way connection. Especially if that person is willing to open their mind.”

Bucky seemed to be caught in thought for a second. “So, if I were to give you something of mine, we could both talk in our… heads?”

“Well yes, but Bucky we have only just met. Letting me into your head is a lot. I try not to pry but sometimes I’ve found that thoughts just burst through. Let’s get to know each other a before that happens.”

Bucky smiled at you before speaking and signing, “You’re right. Let’s get to know one another. I find you fascinating.”

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

It happened on the fifth date. Bucky was just walking you home after a lovely dinner at a small Italian that he claimed he went to back in the 40s. Just outside your door, under the glow of a lamppost he turned to you and took a deep breath before speaking.

“I know this may be a lot, but I wanted to give you these.” He reached around his neck and pulled off something silver. You gasped slightly as he held out his dog tags, immaculately preserved after all these years.

“Are you sure, Bucky? This is a lot.”

“I know and if you aren’t comfortable with it then just let me know but I want to give them to you.”

“You know what this means Bucky?”

“Yeah, I know, I just figured that you’re already in my head all the time anyways, just can’t seem to get you out of it.”

“You cheeseball.” You smirked at him before taking the dog tags and placing them around your neck. You gripped the cold metal for a moment, concentrating on the man in front of you. Taking everything, you knew about him and stretching out a connection, like a hand reaching out to clasp another.

“Testing, Testing, Testing, one two, one two, can my Telepathic partner hear me?”

You laughed, “Yes I can Bucky, you big dork.”

Bucky whooped out loud before sweeping you up in a big hug. The two of you laughing under the lamp light. His joy was infectious, and you couldn’t fight the smile off your face.

“Oh, we are going to have so much fun messing with Sam.”

“You’re evil.”

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

Of course, the two of you made a pact not to tell Sam until he worked it out, which wouldn’t be anytime soon according to Bucky. It led to some very memorable moments and Sam refusing to play any form of card or board game with either of you because you always managed to win, somehow. Not to mention all the times you had spoken in eery unison around him.

“I swear, its like you two can read each other’s minds sometimes.” Sam threw his hands up in frustration at another lost game of charades.

You smirked at Bucky across the room, “Should you tell him, or shall I?”

“I think he’s been through enough, I got it.”

Bucky cleared his throat, “We can.”

Sam whipped around to face Bucky, a look of sheer disbelief on his face, “Seriously Bucky-boy, if you think I believe that after all-

“Hello Sam.” You cast your thoughts to him, in the creepiest old lady voice you could muster.

Sam yelped, before turning accusingly at you, “You better be joking around with me right now, I am not dealing with any kind of ghosts in this house.”

“Sorry! Surprise I’m telepathic!”

“You’re serious.”

You nodded.

Sam put his head in his hands and sighed, “Not the weirdest thing ever. Wait, does this mean you have been cheating this entire time.”

You both looked guiltily at one another.

“You owe me. That poker night, void.”

You both laughed, “We’ll have a fair rematch this time Sam.”

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

It had been close to a year since you had made it official with Bucky and you were now much more comfortable around one another. He no longer just dropped you off at the lamppost but cam inside with you. You had spent many lovely mornings together sharing glances over steaming cups of coffee. Fighting each other for who got to spread their legs out on the couch, there wasn’t really a loser though as it usually ended up in sofa cuddles for both of you, while watching a film.

Life was pretty great, you thought, as you smiled down at the sleeping Bucky beside you. Finally reaching over to turn off the lamp and put your book down, you were finally reading the hobbit at Bucky’s insistence. As you clicked off the light beside you and settled down you noticed the faster than usual breathing coming from beside you.

“Bucky?”

You reached out, thinking he was awake but instead as you opened up your connection you caught flashes of night terrors. You were falling indefinitely, snow all around you, and in the distance, there were cries of pain, people pleading for their lives, there was gunfire and explosions. You gasped and took off the dog tags. You only gave yourself a moment to breathe before trying to shake Bucky awake. When it became clear that he wasn’t stirring you steadied yourself and settled your hands on his temples. You didn’t care you tired this would make you, you just wanted Bucky to stop suffering. You focused, offering out that hand of connection again, this time picturing it in the shape of a fist and, although it wasn’t subtle, you tried to shake Bucky’s brain awake. You forced your way into his dreams, punching through the dark fog that clouded his thoughts and almost screamed at him.

“Bucky! Bucky wake up! You’re dreaming my dear!”

Bucky woke up with a start. Tears flowing down his face, he stared at you blue eyes shining. No one spoke as he pulled you into his arms. You just breathed together for a moment, counting the breaths and the spaces in between. When he finally pulled back, you saw his eyes flicker with concern before lifting a hand to gently wipe under your nose, it came back red with blood.

“You, okay?”

You smiled sadly, reaching out to put the dog tags back on.

“I should be asking you that.”

“But you’re bleeding.”

“Occupational hazard.” You tried to subtly get rid of any of the extra blood. “That was pretty intense. Wanna talk?”

Bucky looked down to the sheets and shook his head. You smiled at him, tilting his head to yours.

“That’s fine, want me to go? Or would you like to cuddle for a bit?”

Bucky didn’t talk again, just pulled you gently down to the bed once more. Snuggling himself under your chin, resting his head on your chest. You felt his arms draw tightly against your waist. You pressed your lips into his hair.

“May I help you go to sleep? Keep the bad thoughts at bay for at least one night.”

You felt Bucky nod and let out a little sleepy hum of agreement. You closed your eyes, focused on your connection setting up a golden wall against the dark fog at the corners of his mind and settled into a deep sleep.

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

You woke to the smell of fresh coffee and the clinking of cups.

“Morning.” You opened your eyes at Bucky’s voice and took the offered cup greedily. Your mind still felt hazy from the energy you used last night.

You felt the bed dip beside you as Bucky sat and sipped at his cup as well, hair a bit of a mess from bed. He had evidently only just woken up as well.

He took a breath, “I had some pretty interesting dreams, sweetheart.”

You stiffened, “Good ones I hope.”

“Don’t worry, they were good. If a little strange.”

“Strange?”

“I was watching myself most of the time.”

You snorted into the coffee, “Sounds creepy”

There was a slight chuckle, “Nah, I was watching myself build a home, a family- “

“Oh God Bucky.” You snapped your eyes to his, you knew what had happened. “I am so sorry my dreams must have stuck in your head.”

“Those were your dreams?”

“Yeah, its only happened once before but when the connection between two people is very strong, it can happen- I call it bleeding. Perhaps we should- “

“If the next words out of your mouth are take a break, I will spill your coffee.” You clutched your cup closer to your chest, “Truthfully, those were some of the beset dreams I have every had. I really loved them.”

You looked back up at him, hesitantly “You did?”

“And I love you.”

“Huh

There was silence as you stared at him in shock. His face as nothing but adoration as the sunlight filtered over his face.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too.”

Coffee cups were cast aside as you both collided. Giggling and joking, radiating happiness as the two of you shared the sweetest kiss. Your feelings merging together, amplifying one another until they shone brighter than the sun.

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lululawrence · 3 years

Note

Can u please be nicer on ao3? Maybe you should try answering people's comments

when i read the first line i was honestly flabbergasted and wracking my brain trying to figure out when in the world i wasn't nice on ao3 ever. because i honestly truly try to be nice to everyone always, even when i'm angry or frustrated or people are going after those i love and want to protect. if there was a time i WASN'T nice on ao3, i wondered if it was maybe because my comment had been misunderstood or someone saw me razzing an author i'm good friends with and they didn't get that we are close and i said what i did with so much love and appreciation, you know? like what??? did i do???

but then i read your second line. and please forgive me if i come off as rude in my response to this, because honestly i'm in a pretty bad spot mentally and emotionally in general right now, but PARTICULARLY today, and this ask triggered an anxiety response in me. so. i'm trying really hard to word this in a way to educate without being condescending or mean, but i might not succeed.

firstly, thank you for your comments i'm assuming you've left. i'm also assuming they were nice comments, in which case extra thanks. i'm sure i'll send you effusive responses on ao3 when the time comes.

secondly, please understand that sending an ask like this, on anonymous no less, is incredibly entitled. writing is not my profession, i receive no compensation for my works that i post for free online, and as a part of that it is not required of me to respond. i do my very best to reply to every comment i receive, but it is not always in a timely manner, because i have other priorities in my life. all of which leads us to my third point, which is:

writers do not owe you a reply to your comments. end of. there are no other qualifications or quantifying modifiers to be added to the statement. is it nice to be acknowledged and know your comment was seen? sure. but do they OWE you one? hell no.

in fact, i'd like to offer you a suggestion. a way of tweaking your thinking about the comments you leave on fics. instead of looking at comments you leave as being something that deserves a reply from the author, think of your comments as your way of paying the author for the gift of their time and talents that they have shared with you by posting their fic. that's how i think of the comments i leave for authors. i'm giving them my thanks for the words they've shared! i want to help THEM feel as amazing as they have made ME feel when i read their fic. in fact, my hope isn't necessarily a response from them, but instead my hope is THE GIFT OF THEM SHARING MORE FIC WITH ME. i'm a selfish bitch in that way and i always want all the fic to read. i never want that well to go dry. one way i can ensure that doesn't happen is by supporting authors and being kind to them and spreading all the love and excitement i can about their writing in the hopes that my words will inspire them to share more.

because whether they reply or not, i GUARANTEE they are seeing your comments. i PROMISE they are. and for all you know, your comment might be the one that keeps them writing even when their words aren't coming easily or when they are tempted to give up.

but, again, please remember that no matter what, these authors (including me) don't actually owe you anything.

the rest of this is going under a cut, because honestly my reply is already far too long and i have a LOT more to say now that you've gotten me started.

now, all of this in mind, i'll explain to you why i'm not great with keeping up with comments made on my fics the last couple of years. i don't owe you this explanation any more than i owe you a response to your comments, and i'm honestly not sure you deserve this explanation either, but i'll still offer it anyway. it'll help me feel better knowing i at least put this out there, whether you care or not, mainly because if i don't do that it will cause me greater anxiety having you possibly think i am not responding to people because i feel all high and mighty or that i think i'm better than the comments or whatever the fuck kind of motivation you're attributing to me to see my lack of a response as something "not nice" towards the commenters.

i'm not sure if you've noticed, but i put out a lot of fic. like a lot. a lot of words and shit. i love writing, it's often my therapy and a way for me to help keep my anxiety and depression and ptsd at bay.

now, more personal shit for you, i've got three kids ages 9 and under. the oldest has adhd which we have yet to find a med for that helps to the extent she needs without side effects that aren't healthy for her to continue with, she also has anxiety, AND she's extremely gifted and starting a new program at a new school, all in the midst of a pandemic. and all of those situations exacerbate her anxiety! huzzah! she's also dealing with the beginning of her tween growing up shit, which is great fun because it means where she used to be pretty damn understanding of her younger brother, she is finding it much more difficult to. because the second oldest? he's autistic with some pretty significant gross motor, speech, and socialization delays that have only been exacerbated because of the previously mentioned pandemic. PLUS he transitioned from his special needs preschool to a fully integrated elementary school for kindergarten last year and then had to deal with all the ups and downs of the switch from e-learning to hybrid to all in schooling when everything in him screams for a normal schedule he can rely on to keep his own anxieties and fears and struggles at their minimum. and that youngest child? he was born in january of last year. he STILL barely leaves the house and has only met other children in close range a couple of times because, once again, pandemic!

add onto all of this my own mental health issues, the fact that my husband ALSO battles major clinical depression, adhd, and anxiety, AND we live with my parents who have their own health issues, both mental and physical. i run the home for our house of seven. i keep this place functioning, fed, clothed, clean, and everywhere we need to be for all of our five million appointments every. fucking. day. there is a REASON i've been borderline burnt out for the last fucking year and a half.

now, for fun, i have fandom shit. i love it here, even if it is a dumpster fire on the best of days, and getting to be a part of the writing community is so very lovely. i adore it. honestly, it's because of those friendships i've built with other writers that i have been able to keep writing and have found just how helpful it can be for my mental health. but i'm REALLY. INCREDIBLY. BUSY. i hardly have time to get on tumblr for just a quick swipe through my dash most days. i put off asks so long i forget i have them. i don't have the mental and emotional capacity to talk to people on here or interact fully a lot of the time. but i do my best to do so and be kind while i'm at it even when i don't want to be.

then, on top of that? i also run fic fests like @wordplayfics and help friends run their own. because not only am i a writer, i'm a reader. i LOVE fic. fic has saved me soooooo many times over the past seven years that i've been here. i want to do what i can to support other writers the best way i can, which is to provide a space for them to create their works that welcomes and helps promote them, but also by doing my monthly fic lists and pocast highlighting what i've been able to read, reblogging their fic posts, and then commenting and kudosing their fics too.

sometimes i get really fucking down on myself because i'm so behind on replying to comments, but my brain is very much a "if you start this, you have to finish it" kind of a brain, and i feel even WORSE sometimes if i reply to comments on some fics and not all of them. but i do my best and reply when i can. i was actually really fucking proud of myself because i had a couple days to myself in june, and i spent hours replying to comments on 20 of my fics. when you have almost 150 fics (i think? i don't even know how many fics i've posted by now), that is only scratching the surface. but i tried and i was so so happy i did that many fics at once. it's exhausting, though, and takes a lot of spoons for me to reply to them in mass like that plus time consuming. so i tried to be happy with those 20 fics and the comments i responded to there and told myself that when i ha a moment to breathe, i'd go and work on replying to some more.

but see, that again causes anxiety and guilt. because i haven't replied to all of them. and that anxiety and guilt can cause me to put it off further OR to put off important things like feeding my children or getting sleep in order to finish it, so i have to make myself put things into perspective and ensure i'm doing the important things, like taking care of myself and my family, first.

and then, i have a moment where i CAN go ahead and reply to comments... but i also have MANY fics that are on deadline and i actually have a schedule. a SCHEDULE. for when i'm going to focus on which fics. i can spell it out for you if you really want. i made it back in APRIL to make sure i didn't sign up for too many fic fests because there are so many going on right now that i want to participate in, but i know i can't do all of them so i had to pick and choose. and when you are SO overscheduled and busy that back in APRIL you had to figure out what fics you would focus on at what time to ensure you got everything written when you wanted to through THE END OF THE YEAR, more choices have to be made.

for example. my writing time and time for myself came down to only one evening a week for ALL fandom things i'm doing and a part of right now once the kids were out of school for the summer. it quickly became apparent that for my own self care i needed more time, so i worked with my husband to find two other days i could carve out at least 30-60 minutes to myself to write every week. and i did. but if i'm already only getting that much time and have committed to those fics and fests and things that you're running etc, you have to choose am i going to use this time to try to squeeze in some comment replies? or am i going to write? and i choose to write. simple as that.

so yeah. see it as selfish if you want. see it as mean. you can honestly see it as whatever the fuck you want, but for me? i know that as soon as i possibly can and i can breathe freely for once and not feel like i am constantly drowning in my day to day life and am doing pretty well when it comes to my fic deadlines and getting started on those christmas cards i'm once again going to be making by hand for everyone on tumblr who chooses to sign up for one this year out of the KINDNESS of my heart and the love i really do feel for so many of you, then i promise i'll be on ao3 catching up and commenting. my friends laugh and make fun of me for it sometimes, because they will sometimes get 10-12 replies to their comments in a single day. they know that's how i work. i WILL reply to every single comment i get, no matter how old it is. but for the love of all that is holy, do NOT add to the anxiety and guilt i already feel over it. the only place that will get you is the ask/comment getting deleted if it's a good day, a fucking long rant like this one if it's not, and a block if it's a REALLY bad day.

if you're asking me to be nice on ao3, then i ask in return that you also be nice by not demanding things of people that they are not in any way obligated to give.

#long post #rant #i almost deleted this #but you sent it on just the right day and instead i let loose #this is unedited and unbetaed lmao but ENJOY #or don't #whatever #writing stuff #i should tag it #writing SHIT #but that's not really a tag i keep cause who wants to keep track of the negatives #not me

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buckyownsmylife · 3 years

Text

Count the Shadows - Bucky Barnes smut

The one where Bucky wants you to sit on his face.

Warnings: smut, a more dominant reader than I’m used to writing, pining!Bucky, all of the good stuff, second hand embarassment

A/N: so... this is a gift to @navegandoaciegas. She gave me the idea for the Graveyard series ending, and that actually inspired me to keep working on that fic that was supposed to only be a oneshot and then became the pride of my eye. I hope you don’t mind that I’m dedicating this to her 😅 It also allowed me to explore some new kinks that might be appearing thanks to her writing and so really, I felt like this had to see the light of day. But really, if it weren’t for @world-of-aus, @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog and @awesomerextyphoon‘s support, I probably never would have had the courage to publish it, so thank you guys so much!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Friday nights at Stark tower meant that something out of the ordinary was about to happen, and I’d already grown used to it, after being a part of the Avengers for the last two months. However, that didn’t mean that the prospect of a night planned by Tony Stark didn’t bring me a hell of a lot of anxiety, to the point where sometimes I’d catch myself wishing for a simple recon mission to take me away for the weekend.

Despite all of my fears and discomfort, I’d been lucky so far. Not once had his attentions turned towards me, and he never even so much as called me to dance with him during one of the raves he liked to organize, so I was able to slip by unnoticed, seizing the opportunity to drink the good (expensive) booze and talk to my friends before retiring for the night.

By Wednesday that week, it was clear that the same couldn’t be said about the next event he’d be hosting.

“Say, Y/L/N, have I thrown you a welcome party?” Was my rude awakening on that fateful morning. Until his arrival, I’d been happily whipping up some pancakes for the supersoldiers and Sam, my morning run partners. The moment his question was processed in my brain however, I froze on my spot, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Oh, now, don’t give me that look. When have I ever thrown a bad party?”

Bucky choked on his coffee, and I immediately was by his side, lightly tapping his back to help him. “I guess this answers your question,” I joked, but with a serious face. Unfortunately, Tony simply rolled his eyes, too used to Bucky and I’s “antisocial behavior”, like he usually described, to give us any attention. “Okay, so maybe not bad, but if you’re going to throw a party using me as an excuse, I have at least one request. And it’s a dealbreaker for me.”

Something in my words truly interested Tony, because instead of brushing me off he actually turned to face me, raising his eyebrows in expectation. “So what you mean is that if I don’t give you what you want, you won’t join the party?”

I nodded, standing my ground. “That’s right.” Next to me, Bucky stood straighter in his chair.

“Neither will I.” That brought a smile to my lips, and I turned to hug him quickly.

“Thanks Buck,” I whispered in his ear, relishing in the way he always held onto my embrace just a second longer than I expected. It was always like this with us. Ever since I first noticed just how touch-starved the super soldier was, I’d find little excuses to touch him. And if I ever doubted my first assumption, the way he always chased away my warmth for just a second longer was enough to prove to me that I was doing something right.

“Very well,” Tony said after clearing his throat to regain my attention. “What’s your request?”

“Only the people who live in this tower can be invited.” I was expecting a lot of fuss from the billionaire, but surprisingly, all I got was a disappointed sigh.

“Figured as much. Okay, big shot. But here’s the deal: you’ll have to stay the entire night and participate in every game we decide to play.” I shrugged, taking a sip of my coffee. That sounded fair. “It’s a deal then! All you have to do is be here on Friday night, capisce? Don’t be late.”

I should have known something was up back then, but as it were, I was just happy that I was able to stop him from filling the Tower with people I didn’t know. Not only would it help to keep Bucky relaxed (and perhaps even allow him to enjoy himself for once!), it’d also help to keep myself relaxed.

I’d never been one to enjoy big crowds, and I especially didn’t want to celebrate joining the team with people who weren’t even a part of it. It made sense. So when Friday night rolled around, it found me in a way better mood than I expected. I even accepted Nat’s suggestion and let her pick my clothes. I was feeling so great, in fact, that I felt bolder, brave enough to accept to wear a satin red dress with a deep neckline that seemed to be able to attract every man’s attention upon seeing me.

Even Bucky seemed drawn to it. And I couldn’t deny that knowing I held that sort of power even to a man of his caliber, a man that attractive, made me feel even braver. But with braveness comes stupidity, and I was brutally reminded of that fact by Tony’s smug face when I heard the dare he had for me.

Listen, I would have never accepted the idea of fucking truth or dare if it wasn’t for this stupidly sexy dress. I mean, the powers that clothing can have… They can make you blind with clout. That’s the only way I could justify what happened next.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I argued, much to Tony’s (and the rest of the team’s) amusement. Each and every single one of them looked at me with barely contained laughter, with the exception of Bucky, apparently.

“Careful, sweetheart… The dare’s already on and that wasn’t very sexy of you.” Narrowing my eyes at him, I very carefully thought out my gameplay here. I could very well retreat to my bedroom and go to sleep. But then again, this whole night had been so fun, and Tony had been really nice to abide by my wishes to only invite people that I knew…

“Fine. I’ll spend the rest of the night being as blunt as possible as I hit on you guys. After all, this is probably the only way you’ll ever get to hear me talking dirty, huh?” And with a wink in Tony’s direction, I resigned myself to face the challenge ahead. “So, let’s get on with this orgy, shall we?”

Bucky’s P.O.V.

It’s not that I was jealous. Of course, I wasn’t jealous. It’s just… hearing her say those things in front of everyone else made my blood boil like nothing else. I knew it wasn’t my place to feel this way. It’s not like she owed me anything, much less attention. As much as I wanted, she wasn’t mine, or even close to that.

Despite being head over heels in love with her, I still hadn’t gathered enough courage to even ask her out for a cup of coffee - or anything else, for that matter. And the worst part was that everyone but her seemed to know about my feelings. Which made this whole night even worse, since I was pretty sure Tony had done all of this on purpose.

So I had to sit through a lot of “Oh, please fuck me”, and “I wouldn’t kick you out of bed,” none of which were addressed to me - and those were the least graphic ones. I couldn’t really blame her, since I hadn’t spoken a single word from the second this whole dare started, but still, I was sulking, and I knew it.

In fact, I was so lost inside my own head, that I didn’t even realize what had happened when she asked “Do you want me to sit on your face or what?” (which I’m pretty sure was directed to Sam) until a heavy silence took the place of the animated chatter that had been going on. Imagine my surprise when I realized everyone was staring at me.

“What?” I asked, my heart already beating out of control, looking from one face to the other in the hopes of grasping what I had lost in the conversation.

“You just said you wanted Y/N to sit on your face,” was the response I got, from no other than Sam himself, and if my heart had been pounding on my chest only seconds before, now it felt as if it had stopped altogether.

“You’re crazy,” I tried to joke, trying with all of my might not to look at the woman who was staring at me. I could feel her gaze on my face. It burned and I ached to look, to see what sort of expression she was wearing, but my anxiety was just too strong - stronger than my curiosity ever could be.

“I wish I was, man. But you literally just answered ‘Please sit on mine’ when she asked if she could sit on my face.” I was going to die. I was sure of it. My face felt so warm, there was no way I wouldn’t just spontaneously combust any second now.

The worst part was, I knew Sam was telling the truth. Because those were the precise words I thought the second that I heard the offer leave her beautiful lips. And now I didn’t know what to do.

“Fine, your room or mine?” She broke me out of my self-deprecating thoughts, surprising me so much that I automatically raised my eyes to meet hers, finding her looking down at me with a mischievous smirk on her lips. Was she joking? Was this part of the dare?

The room erupted on laughs and I forced myself to join them, praying to whoever was available up in the heavens that they would let me be and thankfully, soon enough, the conversation smoothly transitioned away from me and my stupid malfunctioning. Y/N didn’t look in my direction again, which helped with my task of trying to get my breathing pattern into a normal one once more, and in a half hour people were breaking up into small groups and going back into their own rooms for the night.

I figured it was safe to do the same. So I got back to my bedroom’s floor with my hands buried deep in my pocket, trying to figure out what the hell had happened that night, when the door to my room suddenly opened and a tiny hand wrapped around my wrist, hauling me as best as they could into my own living quarters.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Bucky looked beyond surprised as he stared down at me with his mouth hanging open. I was tempted to tease him about letting flies in if he stayed like that, but I didn’t want to make this any more difficult for him than it clearly already would be. To be honest, I also had no idea how I’d been able to move that mountain of a man.

“What are you doing in my room?” Oh, right. That’s what he was concerned about. Fair enough.

“I wanted to show you something.” By the way he opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally being able to say anything else, it was clear that it wasn’t the answer he was expecting, but then again, he obviously wasn’t expecting me to be in his room.

“W-What?”

I grinned, immediately curling my fingers on the edge of my dress before promptly pulling it over my head and sending it flying across the room. Bucky’s jaw dropped, and it only made my smile grow bigger as I quickly got rid of my bra before finally doing the same to my underwear.

“What? Did you think I would let you suffer?” The poor thing, he didn’t seem capable of answering at all, eyes the size of plates as he stared at my naked body, practically drooling. I ran my hands over my breasts, cupping them slightly before trailing further down.

“Did you think I’d let Sam learn what my pussy tasted like? Or Steve? No, no, no, James. This is for you and you only.” Burying a finger inside of me, I made sure to let out my loudest, most pornographic moan as I slowly thrusted it once inside of me before raising it to his face.

“See how I’m soaked? I always get like this when I’m near you.” Bucky actually whimpered, knees faltering for a second as he reached out to grab a hold of himself with the wall next to us, and I laughed before raising a challenging eyebrow in his direction. “What are you waiting for? Get on your knees.”

My breath hitched as I watched the mountain of a man before me literally do exactly that, hypnotizingly staring at the space between my legs before slowly meeting my eyes with a look of pure need in his perfect face. Jesus. How the fuck was I supposed to control myself when he was looking at me like that?

I had gathered the sense that Bucky wanted me, that much became clear tonight, but I had no idea the extent of his desire until just then. Until he looked at me with pupils dilated from under his stupidly long eyelashes, breath coming out from his open mouth like he was desperate for me, desperate to taste what I had to offer.

He looked like he would do anything I asked him to in that second, and the feeling of power that thought gave me left me horny as nothing else. So my first order of business was to command, “Eat me.”

The second the words were out, it was clear that was all he was waiting to do what both of us so clearly wanted. Two strong hands grabbed me from behind and with that grasp of my ass, he pulled me to him until I was in fact seated on his face, wholly dependent on his muscular body to keep me up.

“Oh God,” he was the one to whisper, and a shiver ran through my body as he licked my pussy from clit to hole before diving in as if he was determined to rid me of all of my wetness - knowing fully well it was an impossible task.

Bucky Barnes didn’t need any guidance in the art of eating pussy, that quickly became clear to me, but I still felt the need to grab a hold of his hair just to help keep myself grounded into the reality of this moment. The way he moaned against my cunt at the action, the vibrations running through my body and making me tremble on top of him, certainly didn’t make me regret any part of my decision. It was clear he liked that sting of pain.

Bucky’s P.O.V.

I was having a hard time believing this was really happening, even though I had Y/N’s completely naked body on top of me, her cunt spread open by my own tongue, her juices covering every inch of my tongue. I couldn’t even convince myself to close my eyes to fully enjoy her taste, too preoccupied with memorizing every little thing about this moment.

And the second she opened her eyes to find me already looking up at her, I was particularly glad for my decision, if only because I got to witness the delicious smile that took over her beautiful face before she grinded her pussy against my lips.

“Fuck, you look so good like this. I could get used to this.” A jolt ran through my body at the implications of what she was saying. Before I could even fully process it, I was already responding with the only thing that occupied my mind then, “Please do.”

If I thought I would scare her away with my desperation, a delighted giggle immediately managed to calm my nerves. “Do you always say what you’re thinking?” She asked, still rubbing herself against me, so it took me a while to be able to moan against her wetness an honest, “Yes.” When I did though, the vibrations managed to be exactly what she needed to gush her release onto my waiting mouth, making me growl in excitement. She was so fucking sweet. My cock was so fucking hard it hurt, but all I could think about was how much I wanted to pleasure her, how much I never wanted this night to end.

Unfortunately for my plans, she decided to climb down from me, eyes drinking my kneeling position while she caught her breath for a bit before she threw herself on my bed, feet on the mattress so I’d get a perfect vision of her perfect pussy. Hypnotized, I didn’t even notice I’d gotten up and approached her until her voice broke me out of my reverie.

“Would you like to take a picture?” I knew she was joking, but there was no way I’d miss the slightest possibility of getting at least a permanent reminder of this night, so I answered as truthfully as possible yet again, “Of course. Would you let me take one?”

I was expecting her to laugh it off and move this along, but once more her answer surprised me. “Only if you promise me you won’t use it to jerk off to.” The confusion must have been clear in my expression, because she quickly added, “That’s what I’m here for.”

My heartbeat picked up as I struggled to process her words. “D-Does this mean you’ll want to do this again?” I watched as a small smile grew on her lips and she sat up on the mattress before reaching out to me.

“Every night, if you’ll have me.”

Another moment of silence as I struggled to accept that this was real, that this was really happening.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I couldn’t contain my delighted giggles at the lovestruck expression on Bucky’s eyes. But my need for him was growing deeper every second, so while he stared I reached out for his jeans, quickly managing to unzip them and push them down until I could wrap my hands around his member.

“Jesus, you’re so hard.” Even without any actual stimulation, apparently just giving me pleasure was enough to get him ready for me. I could barely wait to feel his cock inside of my pussy.

“I-I can’t believe this is happening,” he whispered while climbing on the bed and settling between my thighs. “I’ve been dreaming about this for the longest time.” Gosh, could he be any more perfect?

“Well, it’s happening now, James. Please, please, fuck me. I need your cock in me.” His lips looked wet from our earlier activities, and my gaze immediately fell on them when he gasped at my words and the feeling of his cock rubbing on my pussy. When I positioned the head and pulled him closer to me, signaling what I wanted, he followed without any resistance, his entire body trembling as he struggled to keep himself up with both hands on either side of my head.

“You’re doing so great, baby. God, it feels so good to be with you like this.” Apparently, Bucky grew tired of fighting against his own body, since he allowed his massive frame to fall just over mine, resting his forehead on mine.

“Fuck.” Hearing the word whispered so close to me, his warm breath dancing over my skin, while he was effectively about to do just that, felt incredibly arousing for something so small. “It’s like I can’t get close enough to you.”

In the search to feel more connected to me, he finally started thrusting, and then it was like I’d forgotten to speak altogether. Only able to hold tight to those shoulders that tempted me for so long, I struggled to keep the moans and whimpers inside so I could continue to hear the little breathless whispers that he was releasing, almost like he was speaking to himself…

“So wet…” It all only made me more desperate for the enchanting man on top of me, so beautiful, and yet so insecure of his own allure. I hoped after tonight he’d start understanding just how attractive he truly was, at least to me.

“Bucky…” I managed to whisper, calling out for his attention and earning it when his eyes snapped open to meet mine. “Bucky, kiss me.” I needed to feel those lips against mine, to have that one sweet gesture of entwinement that we still hadn’t shared. Apparently, he felt the same need, because in a second, he was onto me, mouth slowly prying mine open so his tongue could explore yet another part of my body that now belonged to him.

By then, he couldn’t contain his moans anymore, and I was grateful that I was still able to keep mine low so I wouldn’t miss the symphony of whimpers and whines, especially after he pulled away to catch his breath and his eyes met mine.

“Fuck, darling…” Each sound from his lips made my pulse grow quicker, my body warmer, that incredible high closer and closer to me. And still, because I needed to tease him, I found myself saying, “For someone who was so embarrassed about the team knowing you wanted me, you surely can be loud.”

Bucky hid his head on the crook of my neck, making goosebumps rise all over my body as he rubbed his nose against my skin, breathing me in. If I thought it was a gesture of shyness, his next words assured me that wasn’t the case at all.

“I want them to hear. I want them to know I’m yours.” The confession had the fire of desire burning brighter inside of me, and my hands slipped around his back, certainly leaving nailprints behind.

“Oh, is that it? You’re mine now, James?” The thought thrilled me to no end, but I needed him to say it, not only because I wanted to be sure there was no uncertainty in his feelings for me, but also because it made me even weaker for the soldier and the dominance he had over my body.

“C-Can I be? Please?” There was so much vulnerability in his beautiful blue eyes that the only answer I managed to give at first was the connection between our lips again, pulling him down to me so our bodies were completely glued to one another once more. My fingers buried in his locks, I pulled on them when I needed to gather some air, and finally give him an actual answer.

Bucky’s P.O.V.

“Hell fucking yes. We’ll be the hottest couple on Earth.” A shiver went through my body at the realization that she truly wanted this, that she truly wanted me. A sound escaped my lips before I could realize, and in fact, I only noticed it because she broke me out of my reverie by saying, “You know, everytime you whine, I have the overwhelming urge to just tie you down to this bed and give you a reason to do so.”

Shit. This woman made me weak. And the moment I lost control of my own weight, she took advantage of it, inverting our positions so she was the one on top, while managing to keep my cock nestled deep inside of her.

“Do you want to cum, sweetheart?” Hearing the filthiness that spilled out of her lips only made me hotter and hotter, my hands flying up to hold her waist as she began to ride me. “Tell me just how badly you want it. Say it, or I’ll leave you right here, right on the edge of bliss, and I’ll cum on your thigh instead.”

I heaved loudly, trying to force my own tongue to work, but the sight of her breasts bouncing with her movements was too hypnotizing. I would never regain full control of my body again, I realized, for as long as she wanted to keep me around. But instead of feeling lost, like I did when the Winter Soldier took over, all I could feel was peace.

She wanted me. She wanted my body, my soul, every part of me. Despite every missing piece, every scar. Everything anyone had ever done to me, everything I’d done to so many. And I’d gladly give it all to her, forever.

“Please, please let me cum, ma’am.” The name left my lips before I could realize, but it made her smile. And right then, I knew I’d done the right thing. Her movements picked up, her hand searching mine to guide my thumb to meet her nub, and as soon as I started rubbing it, she gasped in the most melodic of sounds.

“Cum for me, James. I wanna feel you cumming inside of me.” Jesus fucking christ. I didn’t have a choice, my body reacting to her calling like she was a siren and I was helpless. I felt helpless. It wasn’t difficult to see that I liked it, though. I liked being under her control. I liked how she pulled me apart and held me in place all at the same time.

“If you don’t take your thumb away, so help me God.” Her voice broke me out of my thoughts, realizing her chest was heaving with the effort to breathe properly now that she’d reached her climax with me. I smiled sheepishly before adjusting on the bed, right when she climbed down from my body, and a whine escaped my chest despite my better wishes, making her look at me with an amused smile.

“I’m sorry, I just… I kinda miss you already.” Her smile grew bigger, her eyes twinkling under the moonlight as she leaned over me to kiss me, and I couldn’t help it. I just had to hug her closer, have her falling on top of my chest just so I could invert our positions and kiss her some more.

“I want something that’ll show them I’m yours.” I admitted once she pulled away to gather her breath, and her eyebrows rose in surprise, but also interest, I could tell.

“Like a collar?”

“I was thinking more like a love bite, but I don’t mind.” Her giggle was the most adorable sound in the universe, I was sure of it.

“Baby, I’ll let you fuck me in front of them, if it’ll help your insecurity,” she soothed me, and the thought of having everyone see us together, fully understand that I belonged to her, electrified me. “You’re mine now. You can be damn sure if anyone tries to flirt with you, they’ll have to deal with me. And I’ll make sure they know I’m yours and only yours if they try to chat me up.”

The thought made me smile, and I laid back on the bed and pulled her to rest against my chest, my hand instinctively coming up to play with her hair. “I can get used to that.” We stayed like that for a while, just breathing in each other’s presences, relishing in the comfortable silence between us, until I felt the need to break it.

“Can I kiss you again?” I felt her smile against my skin, before she pushed away to reach for me and connect our lips once more. God, I don’t think I’d ever get used to knowing I could have this anytime I wanted. “One more,” I begged when she pulled away, and she pretended to think for a moment before shooting me a mischievous grin.

“Only if you come fuck me in the shower.”

The only thing I could think to say in response, as I watched her strut in the direction of the bathroom, was “Fuck, you’re sexy.”

#my fics #bucky barnes smut #smut #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes reader #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes reader inserts #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes oneshots #I'm gonna reblog it with the taglists later

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thatoneitaliangirl · 3 years

Note

Oh my gosh could you write a childe x reader thing 🥺🥺 I wanna just have some sweet angst with a happy outcome somehow 😔

I may have gone a bit overboard- At this point, I feel I'm literally incapable of writing anything under 1,000 words. So sorry this took so long, I had to take a break from writing to work out some things with school. A bunch of nonsense and stuff lol. You didn't specify gender, so I wrote the reader as female, only cause that's what I'm used to working with. I apologize if that's not what you wanted. I can always whip up something for ya with your preferred pronouns! But I'm not sure if I'll make it this long . . . I honestly don't know how I even did this, like this is a feat I feel. Anyways, I hope Childe isn't too OOC in this. I'm not the best when it comes to writing angst, so I hope you like it! And just as a little explanation beforehand, I read up that Childe joined the Fatui when he was about 14, became a Harbinger at 18, and is considered a young adult. So in this fic, it's assumed that he and you are at least 20 years old just so the timeline adds up and stuff. Also, despite how long this is, Childe isn't in it as much as you probably wanted- I have a tendency to write more about the reader than the characters. It's something I'm trying to break, but I was just so proud of this. I hope you like it! Anyways, happy reading!!! ^^

Childe x Reader Angst

Plot- Reader and Childe have been together for years when Reader finds out that Childe killed her sister when she was young.

Word count- 8,864 (I'm so sorry)

Warnings- Mentions of death, sadness, bad writing, possible suicide at the end(But just mentioned as a fear), swearing, and cringe 'funny' moments cause why not.

The wind blows through your hair as you sit atop a ledge overlooking Liyue Harbor. Today is your younger sister's birthday, and for the past six years, it's been nothing but a reminder of your failure. You were supposed to take care of her. After your parents passed away, you were all she had left, and she, you. But you were just a kid yourself, hardly capable of raising a child.

You bite your lip and look over at all the families walking about, having fun. It brings a smile to your face knowing at least some people can be happy on this day. She wouldn't have wanted doom and gloom to be her only remembrance. The sun in the sky is warm, beaming down on your skin. You've fought many battles for the Adventurers Guild during your time living in town, and are proud to say you've survived. Even escaped a few sparring matches with Childe relatively unscathed.

You win every time, but it's no surprise given he lets you win. That's one of the many things you love about him. He tries to put you first in most situations as much as he can with his job. And it's the little things like letting you win a fake fight that makes you feel like you're floating.

Your relationship is practically plastered on every notice board in town with how affectionate you are to each other. Not a soul in Liyue can look at you and not know you are the Harbinger's lover. But you're okay with that.

Taking in a calm breath, you hop down and glide your way to the docks below.

"Good morning, _____! Nice weather, isn't it?" You smile at the young girl as she approaches you. You've known her for a while now, and have come to consider yourself friends. She seems a bit nervous though.

"It certainly is. Are you okay, Chen?" Her smile drops and she grips onto her arms.

"Can I ask a favor of you? It's rude of me, but I'm desperate!"

"It's fine, what's the matter?" The young girl sighs.

"My brother borrowed a loan from Northland Bank last month and the payments were due two days ago. He told me he was going to pay it back . . . He hasn't been home since. I just thought that . . ."

"You want me to ask Tar?" Her eyes snap up to yours.

"Will you? Please? I'm just so worried about him! I told him not to take that loan, but he never listens to me." You put your hand on her shoulder to calm her down.

"It's okay. It's no problem at all! I was just headed there anyway. I'll see about your brother for you." Young Chen sighs in relief and reaches in her pocket.

"Here, I want you to take this as payment." You shake your head and push her hand away.

"No, I could never!"

"I insist! My mother gave this to me when I was a kid," She opens your hand and places a small coin in before closing your hand around it.

"She told me travelers would give these coins to people who did favors for them and that they grant wishes! Though I'm sure that's just a children's story; I was never able to get it to work." You give the coin a look, hesitant, before slipping it into your pocket.

"Alright, I'll accept. Thank you!" You wave goodbye to Chen and head towards the bank. Childe spends most of his days there, what he does, you have no idea. It's a mystery. The most you get out of him is 'business' which, yeah, obviously you do business. But it's understandable. The Fatui are a questionable lot, and not many people in Liyue trust them.

The Qixing keep a close eye on them as well, though you're sure even they hardly know what goes down under the 'bank' façade. Sometimes Childe comes home with cuts and bruises, claiming they're from training with his comrades, and while you don't buy that one bit, you play along. No need to add to his stress. If he thought you needed to know, he would tell you. No doubt about it.

Walking up the many flights of stairs, you nod to Vlad who lets you in.

Lucky for you, the first face your eyes land on is the exact one you came looking for.

"Tar!" He immediately looks over in your direction, smiles, and dismisses the Fatui agent he was talking to.

"Well, if it isn't the most beautiful woman in all Teyvat. Come to steal my heart?" He pulls you into a hug and kisses your cheek.

"No need, I already have it," You pull away, giving him a smile.

"I actually came here to see you."

"I'd hope so! Who else would you want to see?" Rolling your eyes, you grab him by his hand and lead him to his office.

"I have a favor to ask of you," The joking atmosphere surrounding you turns heavy as you hold his hands in yours.

"As you know, today is . . . Very important to me. I was wondering if you could get off early tonight? If not, it's okay though. I don't want to trouble you or anything." Childe chuckles and pats your head.

"I know what today is. I already requested an early leave this morning, but they haven't gotten back to me yet. If we're that backed up, I'm not sure I'll be able to," Your face falls a bit, but you smile. He made the effort to try and get off early without you even asking.

He places his hand onto your face and rubs his thumb over your cheek.

"But I promise to make it up to you. If I don't get back too late, we can go up to Mt. Tianheng and watch the lights at night. I know you like to do that when you're upset." The kind smile on his face is only magnified by the gentle look in his eyes. He's always been soft with you, even before you got together.

It was always an odd sight for people to see the two of you interact before you were a couple. He always regards people with the same jokester attitude, especially those he has to keep an eye on. But when he's with you, he may joke around, but is always much more concerned for your wellbeing.

"Thank you, Tar. I really appreciate it." He smirks and laughs.

"You appreciate it, huh? How much?" You roll your eyes again and give him a kiss on the lips. Childe smiles into it and tries to make it deeper, but you pull away with his lips chasing after you.

"Easy there, tiger. Save it for later, huh?"

"So, there's a later?" You lightly smack his chest and pull away from him as he laughs.

"Get back to work, Tar." You turn to leave but stop in the doorway.

"Oh, before I forget, I ran into Chen earlier," The look in Childe's eyes shifts slightly, but you barely notice.

"She mentioned that her brother stopped by here about two days ago, and was wondering if you knew where he went after? He hasn't been home since and she's very worried."

He ponders for a moment before his eyes light up in realization.

"Now that you mention it, he did say he was headed towards Lingju Pass. Don't know what for though." He shrugs.

"Okay, thank you! I'll be sure to pass it on." You exchange words of love before you leave.

After speaking with Chen, you decided to head towards the countryside. Your conversation with her went about as well as you expected. She seemed distressed and unsure of the information you gave her, but any criticisms were held as she thanked you and left. You hope that she'll be okay and that her brother comes back. Archons know, you understand what it's like to lose a sibling.

You take in a deep breath.

The air in Liyue is unlike any other. Once you leave the city and all the warm bodies, it's nothing but gentle breezes and the smell of earth. And the occasional Hilichurl, but you can easily take out a few to preserve the peace.

Walking along a random path in the sand, you reflect.

When you and your sister were young, you would often take walks like these while your parents were arguing. Despite only being a few years older than her, you actively chose to take on a more nurturing role. But after your parents died, you realized just how hard it was to provide for the two of you.

You knew how to use a bow to hunt, but not well, and even though you had your mother's catalyst, you didn't have a vision. Sometimes just showing it off and pretending you had a vision was enough to scare off petty thieves and weak Hilichurls, but it was only a matter of time before that wouldn't be enough.

Unfortunately, that time came all too soon.

The two of you had found an abandoned campsite and you decided to rest for the night. Your sister and you were headed to Mondstadt in search of a distant relative who you believed could help you. But during the night, your sister got thirsty and you were all out of water in your canteen. So you heading out to find a lake close by to fetch some, only to return to see a dark figure escaping into the night and your sister, laying in the tent, unmoving.

You were only a few hours walk to the city.

Sometimes you wonder if you had kept going that night, maybe whoever it was would have never even crossed your path. Your cries for help were heard by knights close by and they gathered your sister. Everyone in the city was welcoming and understanding, and the church gave her a wonderful service.

But nothing could mend the hole in your heart. Thankfully, the family member was able to take you in and trained you to become a knight. But that's not what you wanted. You wanted to find the person who killed your sister. And after completing your training, you left for Liyue and gained your Cryo vision along the way.

You summon your catalyst and flip through the pages. It's strange how magic works and how everything interacts with your vision. Before you, this weapon served your pyro vision-wielding mother. After you gained your vision, all the spells changed to fit the cold rather than the heat. You sigh and close the book. Sifting through it is just going to make you more sentimental. The sky above begins to turn shades of orange and pink as the sun goes down, so you decide to head home.

"I know you did something!" A loud voice yells, not too far from you.

"Chen?" You whisper to yourself and make your way around to see her at the edge of town, yelling at a Fatui agent.

"Calm down, miss Chen. We don't know what you are referring to." She balls her hands into fists, her face twisted in anger.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about! Lingju Pass? He hasn't set foot there since our father died. How dare you make up such lies!" You decide to make your way over to try and calm her down. She's obviously upset, and you know that Fatui agents aren't well versed in the ways of 'feelings.' In fact, most of the ones you've met have all been quite stoic and unconcerned.

"Are you calling the Fatui liars, miss Chen?" You stop, Childe stepping out in front of the other agent.

What is Childe doing out here?

"You Fatui lie about everything! Everyone in Liyue despises your presence here, and this just proves to me how low you people actually are. What did you do to my brother?!" She reaches up to hit Childe, and you run up to her and grab her by her arms. You know she can't hurt him, but if she tries she could get into some serious trouble.

"Chen, listen to me, you have to calm down." She looks up at you with tears streaming down her face but shakes off your grip.

"No! I refuse! He knows something about my brother, I know he does!" She looks at you with pleading eyes.

"Please, _____, tell him. Tell him to tell me where my brother is!" Chen sobs. Tears start to form in your eyes.

"Chen, I'm sorry, but Tartaglia doesn't know," You look up at Childe and are taken aback by the look in his eyes. His eyes are dead, angry, violent as he stares at Chen. He waves his hand, and two Fatui agents come from behind and drag Chen away.

"Let go of me!" She struggles as they hold her arms and pull her through the dirt path. Chen glairs at Childe, digging her feet into the ground to slow them down.

"You're a monster, Harbinger! A monster!" You continue to stare after her as she's dragged away. What just happened? You've known Chen and her brother since you moved here. What could have happened to make this poor girl act like this? You jump when Childe places his hand on your shoulder.

"I'm sorry you had to see that." He wipes the tears from your cheeks and smiles his normal, dashing smile. Nothing like the look he was giving Chen just a moment ago.

"Sometimes those awful rumors spreading about the Fatui make people act irrationally." You look him in the eyes as he holds your face. His eyes are soft and caring now, just how he always looks at you.

"Do you know what happened to her brother?" You ask softly. His eyes darken a bit, but his smile never faults.

"_____, my love, are you questioning me now too? Come on, you know none of that stuff is true, right? I work at a bank, not much else to it." He answers, his voice joking, but there's this undertone you can't quite place and have never heard before. You force a smile and hug him close.

"Your right, I'm sorry for asking. I'm just so concerned for Chen and her brother. Do you know where they're taking her?" He hugs you back, tight, and kisses your forehead.

"I think you should just leave it be for now. Go home and get some rest. I should be getting off work soon, and we can do what I promised. How's that sound?"

"Good." You lean up and give him a kiss. His voice drops low as he whispers in your ear.

"I love you, _____. Don't ever forget that."

And he leaves before you can reply. A chill goes down your spine as you watch him leave, and it's not from your vision. You've never seen Childe like that before, even when he interacts with the Traveler. It made you freeze in place, made your blood run cold, and had your heart beating faster with fear all at the same time. That was Harbinger Childe, not your Tartaglia. You rub your hands along your upper arms to calm yourself. You never want to experience that again.

Taking a deep breath, you reach into your pocket to grab your handkerchief, but pull out the coin Chen had given you instead. All it does is remind you that once again you failed to protect someone you cared about. Poor Chen is scared and afraid, and you're positive that Childe's reaction did not help her any.

But as you hold up the coin, you notice a faint glow emanating from around the outer edge which turns the intricate patterns into Liyuian Characters.

'Let the truth be revealed.'

What does this mean? You remember Chen telling you the story of the coin, but it was just that. You've never heard of any coins gifted by travelers before, and it definitely wasn't a common folk tale.

You shove it back into your pocket and rush home.

The sun is almost fully down, and the stars begin to light your way as you walk hastily down the path. Once your house is in sight, you pick up the pace and run inside.

The glow from the coin is brighter now, illuminating your darkening house. How does one even make a wish on a coin?

"I want to see the truth, but I don't know how," The glow of the coin shifts and changes colors in your hands, giving off an almost mystical wave of magic you've never felt before. Whoever made this coin had to have been powerful. You take a deep breath and look at the coin with determination.

"Show me the truth!" The glow envelopes you and when you open your eyes, you're shocked at what lays before you. The dark figure that haunts your dreams at night looms over your dead sister, red-stained blade in hand and a mask over his face.

You step closer, the classic mask of the fatui on the hooded mans' face making his eyes glow white in the darkness. His stature is much smaller than yours, and his outline seems to be that of a boy. At the time it would have been easy for you to confuse him with a man, being he would have been taller than you. But now that you're an adult, you can clearly see his youth. He smirks and laughs down at your little sister's body while whipping the knife on his sleeve.

"You should never have crossed the Fatui." Your heart drops as the young boy removes his mask revealing ocean blue eyes. The eyes of your lover that you adore on the face of the person that you've despised for years. A woman appears next to him, the same woman you've seen him speak to on many occasions but have never spoken to yourself.

"Good work, Tartaglia. You've proven yourself useful to the Tsaritsa after all. But your job here is not done," Childe looks up at the taller woman, his face determined.

"The other daughter has left to fetch water. Unfortunately, there are too many knights around on patrol to take her. Dispose of the body, and return at once." Childe bows to the woman and she smiles wickedly.

"Yes, Signora. Anything for the Tsaritsa." She leaves, and Childe begins to wrap up the young girl's body in a blanket. He stops suddenly, lifting his head up as young _____ approaches from over the hill. Childe smirks, fixing his mask and hood back on properly.

"Until next time, _____." He says and begins to run.

You gasp as the light invades your sight again and you're returned to the present. Your heart is beating a mile a minute and your breathing begins to pick up. The realization is overwhelming, and the shock is preventing you from crying.

Tartaglia was the one this whole time? It can't be, it just can't! You love him, and he loves you, he says so all the time. Has he lied to you this whole time? Has he just been keeping you close to screw with you before breaking your heart and killing you? That coin has to be lying. There's no way your Tar would ever do something like that, especially to you! He tells you everything. There are no secrets between the two of you.

Right?

The clock on the wall says that it's seven-o-clock, usually when Childe gets off of work. You don't want to be here; you can't be here. How can you face him after seeing that, even if it was a lie? You quickly run up to your shared bedroom and grab your adventuring bag, filling it with few essentials.

Where will you even go? There's nowhere in Liyue where Childe can't find you. Even across Teyvat, the Fatui have eyes and ears. You just need some time to reflect, get your barrings, and confront him. If you'll confront him. This has to be some kind of joke, or lie placed by some unknown power to question your love for him. There's no way he could have-

"What are you doing, _____?" You gasp, started by Childe suddenly behind you, blocking the exit to your room.

"Tar, you scared me!" You say shakily, holding your bag close to your chest. He smiles his usual caring smile at you, but all you can see is the smirk he held while staring down at your little sister.

"Sorry, my love. I got off of work early like I said I would. Is that why you have your bag?" His ocean blue eyes dart down to your bag and back up to you again. You subconsciously grip the bag tighter, Childe noticing.

"N-No. I accepted a commission last minute." The lie slips out like acid on your tongue.

You've never lied to him before, and it feels wrong. But you have to get out of here. Every alarm bell in your body is screaming at you to run as fast as you can away from the man you love.

His brow furrows a bit with concern and he takes a step closer to you, but you take one back.

"This isn't about what happened today, is it?" He sighs and shakes his head.

"I'm sorry if I scared you, it's just I don't like it when people falsely accuse me of things. I kinda slipped into Harbinger mode for a sec there." He laughs, again trying to come closer to you, you step back.

"Are they false though?" The question falls from your lips before you realize it, and Childe's eyes widen in surprise.

"_____, you can't be serious? You know I would never lie to you-"

"How do I know that, Childe?" You've never called him Childe, and it shows from the shock on his face when you do.

"What are you going on about? I could never-"

"Get away from me!" You yell at the Harbinger, tears finally falling from your eyes. There's no way you could be near him like this, knowing that he could have . . .

"Why? I love you, I won't hurt you." You try to steady your breathing as he slowly inches closer, treating you as of your a wild animal he wants to tame.

"You don't love me." You shake your head, gripping your backpack with white knuckles.

"What?" The question comes out as a whisper from the man's mouth in disbelief, hoping he didn't hear you properly.

"You don't love me!" You say one again, louder, confirming what he has hoped wasn't true.

"_____," Childe tries to come closer, but you shove past him and run to the front door. Before you can grab the handle, Childe grabs you by the shoulders and spins you around.

"Please, _____," His eyes are glassy with unshed tears as he gazes into your own.

"Tell me what I did to make you think this way?" You sob, hands pushing on his chest to break free but failing. You can barely breathe as the sobs rack through your body.

"You-" Trying to get the words out only makes you cry harder as the realization hits you. All the rumors are true. The Fatui are evil, conniving, and uncaring. They kill, pillage, experiment, torture, and don't care about who they have to step on to get their way. And your boyfriend, the love of your life, the man you wanted to marry and start a family of your own with, is one of them.

"You killed my little sister!" Your hands ball into fists and punch his chest as hard as you can, but in your state, you have barely any power.

"My baby sister is dead because of you! How could you?" You managed to get out through your tears, finally breaking down in the arms of the man you've despised for years.

Childe stares at you, unbelieving. He pulls you into a tight hug, crying on your shoulder, continuously apologizing. Never in your life have you seen Childe cry. Even when talking about how much he misses his family or his country, the farthest he gets is a sentimental smile and longing. Never have you thought you'd see him cry either. It's almost enough to make you forget that he's practically admitted to the murder.

He killed your only sister. How do you know he's sincere with his tears as he holds you close and begs you not to go? You've seen him lie before, never to you, but if he kept this secret for so long, what else has he been hiding? But none of that matters right now. The man you've been searching for years for, who you wanted to kill with your own bare hands, is the same person holding you so tenderly now.

How could you forget the countless nights you've woken up from nightmares of that boy coming to kill you and finish what he stared, only for Tartaglia to wake you up and hold you close, promising that he'd protect you? Every year when you mourn your sister and confide in him about how you were going to find that monster no matter what it took, did he fear you'd ever find out and kill him?

Is that why he kept you close for so long, to make sure you'd be too weak for him with love to ever even try? How can you love someone who killed your sister? It's easy to just assume you'd hate him, but for some odd reason, a little voice in the back of your mind is telling you to trust him and love him like you always had.

Another voice is telling you to end his life with no mercy and finally bring your sister to the peace she deserves.

Gathering up your strength, you manage to push him off of you.

"_____, no," He's in a state you've never seen before, face wet with tears, nose running, eyes puffy. But, he doesn't try to pull you back in.

You swiftly grab your bag and leave the house and Childe behind.

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

"_____," Your cousin John calls your name, pinching the bridge of his nose. He watches as you continuously use your vision to destroy training dummies.

"You continue this and the knights aren't going to have anything left to train with." You stop temporarily to glare at him.

"I'm training."

"So it seems." He watches as you continue your 'training.'

"You know, this doesn't seem healthy. I'm no doctor or anything, but, maybe you should, like, not?" You sigh irritated and cross your arms.

"Not what, John?" He gestures to the broken wood pieces scattered around the courtyard. You roll your eyes.

"I'm doing no worse than the average rookie knight!" John nods, leaning up against the wall.

"Yeah, yeah, except no. Why? Thank you for asking, cause your not a rookie and you're upset, at what? I don't know because you refuse to tell me. All I know is that my cousin is back after being gone for three years and the-," John looks around before stepping closer and lowering his voice.

"The Fatui in town have been eying us up everywhere we go. What the hell happened while you were in Liyue?" You bite your lip and message your wrists. The tips of your fingers have begun to turn purple from the cold, but you hardly seem affected. John pats you on the back and leads you inside the knight's headquarters.

"Look, I know we were never very close, and when you lived with us, we barely spoke, but I'm here now. We're not kids anymore, _____." The two of you sit down in the library. The three years you lived with your uncle and cousin were your worst. They treated you nice, but you were grieving and took it out on them and many training dummies. It seems you've done the same again.

"I'm sorry, it's just . . ." What happened with Childe months ago is still fresh on your mind. You haven't seen him since you left that night, and you aren't sure if you want to. You're conflicted. You thought coming back to Mondstadt would help you clear your mind and help you decide what to do, but you can't, and it's frustrating.

Despite how hard you've tried . . . You still love Tartaglia with all of your heart. But you can't forget what he did. You could never forgive him either. You've held hatred for this man for six years now, and every waking moment has been used to devise a plan to find him and kill him. But you can't kill him; not when you still hold these feelings.

If this was his goal, then he succeeded. You know he knows you're in Mondstadt. As John said, the Fatui have had their eyes on you since you showed up. You wouldn't be surprised if they all have you listed as a threat. After all, being one of their high-ranking officer's vengeful lover with intent and reason to kill would put anyone on a list.

But, with that said, he hasn't tried to contact you. No letters, no passing of words, hell, no carrier pigeons. He's extra enough to do that. And this has caused you to feel even more upset. Cause you still love the man, and there's some hope still there that he meant what he said and he does love you and the fact he hasn't done anything is killing you.

"_____, you good?" You snap out of your daze and nod.

"Yeah, I was just thinking."

"You seem to be doing a lot of that lately. Please, what's going on with you?" You decide it's best to tell your cousin the truth.

You explain to him the situation. How you fell in love, what life was like for you the three years you were gone, the coin, and finding out the killer's identity. John looks at you in shock.

"Wow, that's a lot. And this is why you came back?"

"Yeah, I know. I should have come back sooner to at least visit, but," John cuts you off and waves his hands.

"No, you're fine. I mean, it would have been nice to see you, but that's irrelevant right now. You found out your boyfriend, a Fatui Harbinger, was the one that killed your sister, and you're here? Doing what? Destroying Favonius property?" You agree hesitantly.

"I mean, when you put it like that, it sounds odd."

"No, _____, odd is an understatement. Why are you here? You should be getting answers, slapping people, storming Snezhnaya! Actually, don't do that last one, that could get us in a lot of trouble."

"True," You agree.

"Honestly, I don't know what to do. Do I confront him? I mean, if he did kill her, which I'm about 90% sure at this point that he did, do I get revenge? I've wanted to for years, but I know that I could never kill him." John takes your hand in his and speaks with sincerity.

"You love him, I get that, but you can't let that get in the way of things."

"No, I mean, I literally couldn't kill him. He's a beast in battle, and could probably end me without even blinking. I've seen him take on multiple ruin guards in seconds, like, he's on a whole nother level." You sigh and put your head in your hands.

"But even despite that, I do still love him. At this point, I feel the best thing to do is to just move on. Go my own way and let him go his."

"And what about your sister, huh? Just gonna forget about her?" You look at him questioningly.

"Look, you need to at least get closure. Obviously, he doesn't want you dead, because you would have been so by now. I can't even tell you how many times the Fatui could have nabbed you, gagged you, and sacked you since you've been back."

"Gee, thanks John, that really makes me feel better about the situation." He rolls his eyes.

"Talk to the man, _____. There will always be a home here waiting for you to come back to." Maybe your cousin is right? If Childe did want you dead, you know damn well he has the power to have made it happen. But how would you even react when you see him? The only way to find out is to get it over with.

With newfound enthusiasm, you jump up from your position and slam your hands on the table.

"Alright, I'm gonna go! I'm gonna talk with Tartaglia and I'm gonna punch him at least once!"

"That's the spirit!" A series of loud shooshes sound around the library and you slowly sit back down.

"Sorry!"

You and your cousin John devise a plan over the next few days. You're still unsure about this whole thing, but with encouragement from John, you gain the confidence you need to push through.

In the end, you decide the best thing to do is to sneak out of Mondstadt without any Fatui seeing you. It's still dangerous to speak with him, and the two of you decide the safest thing is to get him unprepared and off guard. If he's not expecting you, he has no time to plan. Not that he needs a plan to kill you, he could just do it. But still-

As the sun seeps down past the hills and flatlands of Mondstadt, John and you make your way out of headquarters and down to the main part of town.

"You know what sounds so amazing right now? A tall mug of cider from Angel's Share!" John exclaims and grabs your arm. The two of you practically run towards the tavern, gaining looks from the other citizens.

"Cool it, John," You whisper yell to him as you head inside.

"You wanna actually look suspicious?" He laughs, sitting down at a table in the back.

"Sorry if I'm not good at being convincing. Dad always said acting would be my downfall."

"When would you ever have to act to be a knight?" He shrugs his shoulders.

"Right now?" Okay, he has a point. Merely minutes after you sit down, two Fatui agents walk in after, taking a table far enough away, but close enough to keep you in their sights.

"Don't worry, _____," Your cousin says, noticing your worried expression.

We'll get you out of here."

John waves his hand and gains the attention of Master Diluc as he's walking around the tavern.

"We'd like two Valberry Whiskey's please!" Your cousin asks loudly and winks. Diluc rolls his eyes and heads towards the back of the tavern, getting the 'drinks.'

It was a miracle and a half that John was able to convince Master Diluc to help you. But John said he owed him a favor. For what, you have no idea. Not even a second later, a young bard runs over to your table and slams his hands down.

"What did you just order?"

"Uh," You look to your cousin for guidance. The drink was simply a code, not an actual order.

"Valberry Whiskey?" The young bard looks at you in amazement. He's clearly drunk, but the sheer excitement in his eyes seems to sober him up enough to eagerly rush to the bar counter.

"A new drink! And Diluc didn't tell me?!" His shouts of joy gain the attention of the entire bar.

"A new drink?!"

"One not on the menu?"

"Master Diluc!"

Your cousin and you share a look as the crowd goes wild, rushing towards the front bar and to the back looking for Diluc to inquire about this new drink. The few Fatui agents that had followed you in stand up from their seat to get a better view of you and John. John grabs your arm and pulls you into the crowd, the Fatui agents desperately searching for your whereabouts.

"This way, _____." He pulls you farther and farther away from the Fatui till you feel another hand grab you and pull you out of the back entrance to the tavern.

"Hey, watch your hands, buddy!"

"Would you rather still be in there then, _____?" You smile nervously up at Diluc, who's handing you a bag and cloak.

"Things didn't exactly go as planned, huh?" The redhead smirks and crosses his arms.

"I knew that bard would be in here tonight. Drunk off his ass, he wouldn't be able to resist the call of a new drink item." You laugh, pulling the hood over your head.

"Thank you, Diluc." He gives you a rare smile and nods. You begin to walk off but stop, looking back at the tavern owner.

"Hey Diluc, what was the favor for?" Diluc sighs and pinches between his eyes.

"I'd rather not talk about it."

__________________

The journey back to Liyue is a tiring one. It seems a lot closer than it actually is on the map, but heading to the main harbor is always a task. Thankfully, you're able to make your rations last the whole trip, and as you enter the harbor in the wee hours of the night, you smile at the familiar buildings. You may have only been gone for a few months, but this was your home for the last three years.

Your home with Tartaglia . . . You pull your hood farther down your head and try to remain in the shadows. Despite the time of night, the area is still bustling with people. Merchants making deals, ships delivering goods, the whole nine yards.

You flatten yourself against a wall as a few Fatui agents walk past. The place is absolutely crawling with Fatui, even more so than usual. Could it have something to do with you? You doubt it. Harbinger or not, Tartaglia could get in serious trouble for using Fatui resources in such a way.

You carefully slide through cracks and crevises, branches and bushes, trying to stay out of any Fatui sights. Eventually, you find yourself on the outskirts of the city, not far from your shared home. It surprisingly takes a lot from you to not run straight for it. You miss your house. You miss your bed. You miss Tartaglia.

But now is not the time to get sentimental!

You still need to confront him about what he did. And depending on his answer, one of you may not make it through the night. You keep yourself stealthy as you enter the house from the back. He's not home, which is good. But the place is in disarray. Furniture turned upside down, plates smashed against walls, everything caked in dust. It's hard to believe he's been living here if he even has been.

If that's the case, you may have to go looking for him. You look around the house at the disaster. He may have been trying to look for something; maybe a clue to what you had planned or something to use against you.

With that in mind, you run up the stairs to the master bedroom and open the closet. You fear the worst but are surprised to find your sister's belongings still in place.

Surely he would have found them in here.

The bedroom isn't as bad as the bottom floor, though still a mess. The bed is unmade, with a small pile of your clothes on your side of the bed, and his clothes on the floor. All of your things, besides the clothes, are still neatly in their places. Pictures of you and him together that were once on the walls are now on his nightstand, face up and smudged with fingerprints.

"What the hell happened here?" The sound of the front door opening startles you. Could that be Childe? There's no way he's living like this!

Footsteps move across the floor, into the kitchen, into the living room, and slowly up the stairs. Whoever it is, your about to face them.

The door opens slowly, almost torturously so. Soon, the sunken and sullen face of your lover is in your view, and even faster, your on the floor with a knife made of hydro to your throat. Your hood continues to obscure your identity as Childe pins you down.

"Bold of you to break into the home of a Fatui Harbinger! What did you expect?" With the pressure from the knife digging deeper and deeper into your skin, you freeze the hand wrapped around his holding the knife, and kick your leg out. Childe falls over, dropping his weapon which shatters on impact. Before you can get your bearings, he's lunging at you again. He grabs you from behind and holds you in a chokehold.

"Your fast, but you'll never be fast enough!" You gasp for air, holding onto his arm as it's wrapped around your neck. He's trying to kill you, you know he is. All the times you've sparred with him, you knew he was holding back, but he's definitely not this time. Even so, his hold on you is weak. Weak for him, at least.

You rear your elbow into his stomach as hard as you can knocking him back and you summon your catalyst. As he said, he's faster than you, but before he can get back, you place a wall of ice between him and yourself. It's not enough to hold him back for long, but enough to catch your breath. He laughs as he can hear you choking, attempting to regain your oxygen.

"You think this little wall will stop me?" He attacks the wall with his fist, making a section crumble. Your breathing is fast, but you can't seem to gain enough breath to speak. As he crumbles your wall piece by piece, you pull back your hood and lean on the bedroom wall behind you. Finally, he lands the finishing blow and the ice dissipates in a gust of cryo magic. The crazed look of bloodlust vanishes from his face the instant he sees you, hand on your throat, and your breath heavy.

"___-," He can hardly finish his whisper as he lets out a shaky breath. With the tense atmosphere suddenly calm, you're able to regain your breath and look up at the man. His skin a pale and his eyes are dull. He has large dark circles under his eyes and he looks a bit thinner than normal.

"_____," He manages to get out, still shocked you're actually here.

"Are you okay?" You shake your head.

"You haven't seen me in months and that's the first thing you say to me?" He rubs the back of his neck and looks down, ashamed.

"I didn't know it was you. I'm sorry if I hurt you." You can hardly believe what you're seeing. He seems broken, utterly defeated. If he hadn't fought you just now, you'd assume he'd fall over with the breeze.

Looking at him now, it's hard to believe he's the same man that killed your sister.

"We need to talk." He nods, refusing to meet your eyes.

"You need to tell me the truth, Tar," He takes in a shuddering breath at your words.

"All these years, I've been beside you. I've stood up for you, I've loved you. I told you all my darkest secrets and nightmares. Not once did I ever lie to you."

Tears come to his eyes just as they do yours. He bites his lip to prevent the tears from falling. You step closer to him, dropping your cloak, and put your hands up to his face. He flinches away from you but relaxes when your palms cup his cheeks and he finally looks you in the eyes.

"Over the past few months, I've thought long and hard about what I wanted to say to you. And no matter what scenario I came up with, I could never tell if I was doing the right thing. But, even though I carry some semblance of anger, I know that what I feel for you is real. And with that, I still hold hope that you feel the same and it wasn't all just a lie."

He grabs your hands, the tears now falling one by one down his pale cheeks.

"I swear to all the Archons that I love you! I never lied about that!" You hesitate for a moment, blinking away your own tears.

"And though I don't want to, I believe you," You rub your thumbs across his face, clearing some of the tears.

"But I need you to tell me everything." Tartaglia closes his eyes. He never dreamed in a million years he'd have to tell you this story. He'd hoped that you'd live in blissful ignorance for the rest of your life with him. But the gods had another plan for him and you, and he prays that at least one of them will let him keep you. Even if that's a selfish request.

"I joined the Fatui when I was young. I was constantly trying to prove myself to Signora and the Tsaritsa that I was willing to do anything they asked me. I still am," He looks at you with regretful and sorrowful eyes as he recalls the past.

"Your parents had fled Snezhnaya when you were born, because of a debt they racked up with the Fatui. When they were found in Fontaine, it was revealed that they were working for a group of rebels intent on infiltrating Snezhnaya. It was my job to take you and your sister to use as leverage on your parents. But, your sister fought back," You release his face and look away, finding it harder to keep eye contact with him.

"I wasn't as skilled as I am now, and I panicked. But La Signora said I did a good job. I didn't know that your parents had already been killed by the rebels, and neither did the Fatui. Not until after we had left you. At that point, there was no reason to continue after you. But you were never forgotten about. And when you came to Liyue, I was instructed to keep an eye on you," Childe lifts his arms up and places his hands on your shoulders.

"But I never expected to fall in love with you." You look into his ocean blue eyes and are overcome by the warmth they hold for you.

"The day I met you, I could feel it, and I tried so hard to forget about it, but you were just so . . . Amazing, and beautiful, and kind. I never expected that from you. You never once judged me or ridiculed me, even though you knew who I was. I thanked the Archons every day that you came into my life, and I prayed that you'd never find out what I'd done."

A sob breaks through as he wipes the tears running down his face. All the years you harbored hatred for this man, you never once thought about what he could have been going through. It's true that this doesn't excuse his actions, but to know that he truly regrets what he did brings you some kind of closure. In the end, revenge would have never made you feel better. Your sister wouldn't have wanted that.

You love Tartaglia with all your heart, and in this world, it's better to forgive than to let it eat away at you any longer.

"Tartaglia," His name comes out as a whisper with your breath, but he hears you loud and clear. The fear of rejection in his eyes tells you everything you need to know as you carefully speak to him.

"I forgive you." He cries, pulling you to his chest and you hug him back. Unfortunately for him, you weren't finished.

"But, I need some time to think about this. I love you; I never stopped loving you, and I always will," You pull back and smile at him before gently kissing his chapped lips.

"I'm going back to Mondstadt, but I'll be back. You just need to give me some time." He smiles as best he can and nods enthusiastically.

"I'd give you all the time in the world if I could." He moves to kiss you again, but you put a finger up to his lips to stop him.

"Save it for later, Tar." He laughs, looking back up at you with bright eyes.

"So, there's a later?"

(A little something extra. It doesn't quite fit to be an ending, but more like an epilogue just tying things together I guess lol.)

___________________

You sigh as you sling your bag over your shoulder. It's been a good few months back in Mondstadt after your reconciliation with Childe, and you've decided it's time to go home. You've kept in regular contact with him since you've been here, writing letters to each other like new lovers. You found the whole thing quite cute, despite the circumstances. He's been regarding you with caution, taking things one step at a time, and never pushing you past any limits you set. You're grateful for that.

"You sure you wanna go back? You can always stay a bit longer, just to give yourself a bit more time to think it over." John says, arms crossed and head down. You two have grown closer over your time spent here. It's a shame to think you were so caught up in your misery to be blind to the best friend you could have had. And it's tough to say goodbye, now that you've grown attached.

"I'm sure. You don't have to miss me too much, ya know? I'll be back to visit, and I'll write every week!" John huffs.

"You better, or I'm coming over there and kicking that Fatui's ass for keeping you away! I don't care how many ruin guards he can take on!" You laugh and pull him into a hug.

"I'm gonna miss you." He hugs you back, holding you tight.

"Yeah, I know." You roll your eyes and wave goodbye to the family you didn't realize you had.

Once back in Liyue, you get settled into your home with Childe. Thankfully, he cleaned up the mess he made while you were gone. He had said he was so distraught at the thought of you leaving him, he trashed the place in anger. Not anger from you, but anger at himself. He was afraid you'd think he was a monster, that he was heartless, and that you'd never want to see him again.

He was relieved when he heard you were in Mondstadt. There, he could keep an eye on you. One of the things he was afraid of was you doing something to yourself due to the pain of it all . . . If you did that, he wouldn't know how to cope. And when he received word that you had disappeared from Mond, well, he thought that fear had come true. But in the end, things worked out. You could never forget what he did, nor do you want to. It's something you have to live with, just like he does, and it's up to you to put it aside.

You know there are many things he's done that he's not proud of. Many things of which he promises to tell you when he's ready. And you'll be there to listen as he spills his heart out to you.

You take in a breath of air as you enter the harbor, smelling the salty water of the ocean and the wonderful herbs being brought in from traveling merchants. You'll never get over these smells.

"_____!" You look over your shoulder, surprised as Chen runs over to you. You haven't seen her since the incident outside of town.

"Chen! Are you okay?" She smiles and hugs you.

"I'm doing great! My brother and I have been selling a lot more of our goods since he's been back, and business has been booming!"

"Your brother?" You tilt your head.

"Yes!" She nods enthusiastically.

"He did go to Lingju Pass as Childe had said. It turns out, he had a buyer out there but didn't want to tell me in case the deal went south. I overreacted. . ." She puts her head down in shame.

"All the rumors about the Fatui got to my head, and I assumed the worst. But Childe went out and found my brother for me. Can you please tell him I said thank you? Also that I'm sorry. I really owe him one."

You pat her on the head, relieved.

"Of course, Chen." She reaches into her pocket and pulls something out.

"For payment-"

"No!" You shove her hand away.

"Gotta go! I'm late to see Tar!" You sprint off, leaving a confused Chen in your wake.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin childe #genshin impact childe #genshin impact childe x reader #genshin childe x reader #childe x reader #genshin impact angst #genshin angst #genshin impact x reader angst #genshin venti #genshin impact venti #genshin diluc #genshin impact diluc #angst

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justauthoring · 3 years

Text

Lie Your Way To The Truth

Prompt: Ooh I have an idea - Bokuto being a bro and coming up with increasingly absurd heroic acts for Kuroo to impress the reader?? Like “saving” a child from “drowning”, bragging about him so on Requested by: anonymous.

A/N: I very much adore Kuroo, and want you all to know I listed to a Kuroo playlist while writing this fic cause I felt it was only natural. Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x F!Reader

“There she is!”

“Honestly, Bokuto, this is absurd--!”

“Shh,” there’s a resounding clap as his hand hits his chest, “this will work.”

Your eyes scan across the entire gym, easing when you catch sight of the group of boys you’d been sent after. After the managers noticed a select few still hadn’t come to grab dinner, they’d sent you promptly on their way after them (and specifically your team’s captain) without really letting you get a word in edgewise.

Nonetheless, you hadn’t had much to complain about. Because you were all too happy to have the chance to catch up with Kuroo. He had, of course, been lately busy with training camp going on.

You catch his eye, offering a bright smile as you make your way into the gym. All eyes fall on you at your intrusion, but Bokuto being the way he always is, continues on with his conversation with Kuroo, quite loudly if you were being honest.

“It’s honestly thanks to you, man,” he sends a jab to Kuroo’s side, “that that puppy is now safe and all warm and happy in it’s new home. Without you, it would’ve probably starved, maybe even to death, and--”

Sending a look Kuroo’s way at Bokuto’s words, to which the man only blushes, you come to a stop in front of the two, as the other’s gather around them. “Hello boys,” you greet warmly, tilting your head to the side in a greeting that has Kuroo’s stomach fluttering with butterflies of all things and he’s almost completely enamored by the presence of you.

“Y/N/N!”

At least until he nearly goes deaf at Bokuto’s boisterous greeting.

Kuroo straightens out the second Bokuto’s arm leaves his shoulders, letting out a small sigh at the relief it puts on his already tired muscles. But Bokuto seems all too oblivious, his attention now fully on you as the rest stare on in wonder. Well, at least, Lev and Tsukishima seem curious, Akaashi looks like this is a daily occurrence for him.

“I did not see you come in at all,” he adds, putting a little too much emphasis on his words.

You just seemed confused, baffled even -- which was a lot given that Bokuto didn’t really make sense most of the time. And Kuroo can’t help the small smile that curls onto his lips when you once again look towards him for some kind of guidance, to which he simply shrugs, and the two of you, in his opinion, share your own little moment.

“Ah, well, anyways,” you laugh lightly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and Kuroo shamelessly watches the movement of your hand with great focus. “I came to grab you guys because they’re about to put dinner away and start cleaning up for the night and I didn’t want you--ahh!”

A squeak leaves your lips as you’re all but suddenly swept up into a pair of strong arms, your feet leaving to comfortable ground beneath you completely. It takes you a moment, a blink or two before you realize it’s Bokuto whose got you all wrapped up in his arms, cheering loudly; “you’re an absolute savior, Y/N/N! I’m starving!”

Frowning, Kuroo steps forward; “put her down, dumbass. Before you drop her.”

Bokuto heeds, but the second you’re back on your own two feet, a little dizzy if nothing else, he’s sending a pout the boys way. “Moo... You’re so cruel, Kuroo.” But his sadness doesn’t last as Akaashi simply reminds him the two of them better start heading towards the cafeteria before the foods all gone, pointing towards the door Lev and Tsukishima have already made their way out of.

“Hey hey hey!” Bokuto cheers, voice booming as he drags Akaashi along with him.

Kuroo and you watch the two run off, realizing a second later that it’s just the two of you left.

“Did you eat?” Kuroo asks you, pulling your attention on him as he moves forward.

You nod, smiling softly. “I ate with Kenma,” you explain, “and I put a plate aside for you.”

Kuroo’s eyes gleam. “How thoughtful,” he whistles, pressing a hand right above his heart before sending you a smirk. “I never thought you cared about me so much, Y/N/N.”

You flush lightly, “sh-shut up,” you huff, picking up the speed in your step. “I made one for Lev too, of course!”

But, in reality, you didn’t.

“Didn’t you save a kid from drowning once?”

It’s breakfast the next morning, and instantly you’re one sided focus on your breakfast is interrupted as Bokuto’s words drift towards you. Swallowing the food in your mouth, you look up from your spot across from the two boys, quirking a curious brow.

“You did?” You question, attention focused solely on Kuroo -- thus, you miss the sly grin that grows on Bokuto’s lips.

“Well, not--” He cuts off by a groan, Bokuto’s elbow hitting him directly in the gut and sending an unpleasant feeling throughout his entire body. Kuroo sends the boy a sharp glare, but he only responds with a harsher one, subtly tilting his head in your direction as if Kuroo was dumb.

Oh.

Oh...

so this was Bokuto’s plan? Come up with obscure heroic acts to brag about for the sake of impressing you for him... He had to admit it was a good plan, and not a complete lie. He had found a puppy once on the side of the street, but hadn’t necessarily nursed it back to health himself. And there was that one time his cousin had been drowning in the pool, but Kuroo had been too busy laughing at his misfortune to focus on saving him and oh-- what the hell.

Why not?

“I-I did, yes,” Kuroo nods, turning to you with a smirk. “My cousin.”

“That’s right,” Bokuto grins, clapping his hands. “Your mother went on and on about it that one time I came over. She wouldn’t stop gushing about how brave you were.”

Kuroo eyes you and honestly, you seem a little skeptical if the narrowing of your eyes was any telling. But, you were smiling that cute little smile of yours and you seemed amused nonetheless -- not to mention your attention was focused on him, so, Kuroo felt Bokuto’s plan, despite how odd it seemed to compliment the idiot, was actually working.

“Well then,” you smile over at Kuroo, eyes twinkling with delight. “I’ll make sure to bring you along the next time I go swimming. I absolutely suck.”

Kuroo practically beams with praise.

“Of course!”

“Isn’t it kind of bad to... lie?”

“Nah, nah, see, my padawan,” Kuroo pointedly chooses to ignore that comment, “we’re not really lying. Just bending the truth a little.”

“It still seems wrong,” Kuroo frowns, “I don’t want her to be disappointed when she learns I’m not actually that amazing of a person.”

Frowning, Bokuto’s expression turns suddenly serious at that. He promptly sets his hand on his friends shoulder, squeezing tightly in what he’s sure is a reassuring way (but honestly, Kuroo is more weirded out then anything) and sends the boy a wistful look (he just looks like an owl) before nodding; “you aren’t.”

Kuroo blinks. Once, twice, and then all but rips Bokuto’s hand off of him; “what the hell man!”

“Don’t get mad,” Bokuto cries, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m just telling the truth. We’ve painted you out to be some war hero or something--”

“Hardly.”

“--And you’re definitely not--”

“We don’t know that.”

“But fear not,” Bokuto grins, sending him a thumbs up, “my plan will work.”

And honestly, Kuroo figured it was too late to back out now.

“And then he pulled a itty-bitty-kitty from burning in a house--”

“Tetsuro?”

All falls silent as you speak, and Kuroo, wincing, turns to look at you. “Yes?”

Smile never faltering, you tilt your head to the side; “can I speak to you for a minute?”

“Um,” hating the way his chest tightens and everything seems to close in on him, Kuroo forces himself to respond. “O-Of course,” he nods, moving to walk in step with you but not without sending a pointed, somewhat panicked look back at Bokuto who seems plainly oblivious to the fact that they’ve been caught in their lie as he sends him a grin and a thumbs up.

This was so not good.

You don’t stop until the two of you are out of the gym, in the cool night air, away from any prying eyes or ears to listen in on the conversation. Kuroo finds himself uncharacteristically nervous and he almost feels like he’s going to vomit as he prepares himself for your lecture.

You’d have every right, and that’s something he can’t argue against, and he curses himself because he knew he shouldn’t have let Bokuto continue spouting these absurd stories that were so clearly meant to brag and--

“You know you don’t have to make up absurd stories to get my attention right?”

And Kuroo blinks but you seem so entirely not angry that he’s stunned silent.

“I mean, I’ll admit I believed them at first,” you laugh lightly, and the sound of it is so soothing to Kuroo. “But honestly, there’s no need to try and get my attention because... because--” and then you falter, and Kuroo blinks as he notices your gaze lower and your cheeks warm, as if you’re embarrassed--

“I already notice you. Just the way you are.”

Did he... did he hear that correctly?

Was that... was that meant to be a confession?

You’d just confessed to him, and Kuroo’s so completely in his own head with disbelief that he doesn’t realize with each passing moment you’re growing more and more unsure.

“Unless,” you squeak, causing Kuroo to blink down at you. “Unless I misread the situation and you weren’t trying to get my attention. Which if that’s the case, i’m so--”

But you never finish because in the next second Kuroo’s lips are pressed firmly against your own and his arms are slipping around your waist, pulling you flush against him he pours his absolutely everything into that kiss like he’s being dying to do since you walk through those gym doors three years ago.

“Yes, operation get-Y/N-to-notice-Kuroo a success!”

“What an original name...”

“Were you watching us?”

“Bokuto!”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #hq #hq x reader #hq imagine #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo imagine #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo x you #kuroo scenarios #imagine #imagines #my fics

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kuroopaisen · 4 years

Text

heart attack || bokuto koutarou

➵ your hot roommate likes to walk around without his shirt on.

wc: 2.8k

warnings: implied f!reader, swearing, pure chaos

a/n: @stelleum jac darling, happy birthday! i tried writing you shipfic but i chickened out and wrote this instead (mayhaps i’ll finish the bkak fic one day, but for now it will sit in my drafts hh). i’ve already wished you a happy birthday so i won’t write you an essay here (although i’m fully capable of it), but i love you, and i’m so grateful to be counted amongst your friends. you bring such light and laughter with you, and i honestly feel like i’ve learnt a lot from being your friend. i hope you find this fic delightfully chaotic (just like you), and that it manages to make you smile a little -- you deserve nothing less (also big shout out to remy and ren for reading over this disaster fdsljk)

“he’s doing it again.”

“huh?” oikawa’s voice crackles from the other end of the phone.

“he’s walking around the house shirtless.”

it takes oikawa a few seconds to catch up. “oh, right. your hot roommate.”

you two have had this conversation many a time over the past two weeks. you’d quickly surmised that bokuto koutarou would be the death of you. probably by heart attack. oikawa had found that idea stupid.

“what do i do?” you ask, chewing on your lip.

“you could always ask him out.”

you scoff at the absolute certainty in his voice. “how dare you assume i wouldn’t shrivel up and die if i so much as attempted that?”

you don’t need to see your best friend to know he’s rolling his eyes at you. “why would you shrivel up and die?”

“what if he says no?”

“he’s not going to say no.”

“but he could.”

“you’re hot, it’ll be fine.”

“but you haven’t seen him, tooru,” you huff, waving off his assurances like they’re nothing. “pictures don’t do him justice.”

“i can’t believe you’re an adult…” oikawa sighs.

“you’re one to talk.”

“at least i can talk to people i find attractive,” he grumbles.

“he’s going to be a professional volleyball player,” you stress. “you know what they’re built like.”

“you were friends with us all throughout high school, and yet i don’t remember you ever talking about any of us like this.”

“the only one of you worth talking about is iwaizumi.”

a moment of silence. “that’s fair.”

“anyway, that’s all besides the point,” you grumble.

“do the other guys know about this?” he asks. you don’t like the playfulness in his voice.

“as a matter of fact, they don’t.”

“why not?”

“if i told them, they’d meddle,” you stress. “directly.”

“you can’t stop me from telling them.” you can tell from his voice that he’s grinning.

“i’ll block your number and never speak to you again.”

oikawa doesn’t need time to decide that it’s a viable and realistic threat.

“wait, are you hiding in your room again?” he asks.

“duh.” you roll your eyes. “i wouldn’t be talking about this in the living room, would i?”

---

meanwhile, bokuto’s sitting on the couch, quite shirtless as he twiddles his thumbs.

when kuroo had first told him that the best way to win his roommate’s heart was to ‘just walk around shirtless,’ bokuto had been a bit doubtful.

of course, kuroo hadn’t won the heart of his partner by walking around shirtless, but boukto was loath to completely disregard his friend’s advice. he does, after all, have a partner, so perhaps following his advice isn’t the worst idea.

but you’d scurried into your room almost immediately upon catching sight of him, and bokuto fears that he’s frightened you.

he likes to consider you friends. sometimes you’ll watch movies with him -- on occasion, you’ll even commit to a full anime series (even though he needs you to explain what’s actually going on half the time) -- and there’s a certain ease of conversation between the two of you. in his mind, it’s only natural that he should develop a little bit of a crush.

unfortunately that line of common sense didn’t follow through to the next step of actually asking you out.

---

your sheer embarrassment goes head-to-head with your insatiable hunger and loses.

you peek through a crack in your door, trying to ensure that the hallway was clear. perhaps you could survive seeing him in the front room, but an encounter in your cramped little hallway was bound to end in humiliation.

you manage to skitter into the kitchen quietly, every one of your senses on high alert for the enemy (see: bokuto koutarou’s god-like body).

you spy the back of his head on the couch from your new vantage point. if you’re quiet enough, chances are he won’t notice that you’re in the kitchen. if the universe really gave a damn about you, then it would let you be invisible for a few seconds.

“hey!” bokuto calls from the couch, holding a hand up.

“hey,” you mumble as you make an active effort not to look at him. damn him and his masterfully sculpted biceps. they’re almost enough to make iwaizumi jealous. almost.

you dash over to your pantry, opening it up and rifling through a couple shelves. you don’t have the mental or emotional fortitude to stand around and cook a proper meal right now, so the next best thing is instant ramen.

“whatcha looking for?”

you almost shed your skin in fright.

there’s a warmth hovering over you, and you’re far too aware of what it is.

“something to eat.” you can only hope that those words came out legibly.

“oh, yeah, there’s not really much,” he shrugs, tilting his head at you.

you’re still not looking at him. has he done something wrong?

“ah,” is all you can muster in response.

“did you want to order in?” bokuto asks, a certain lightness to his voice. it’s similar to the tone he uses when he wants to pick what you guys watch on a saturday night.

“uh—” oh no. “i—i don’t—um—”

what are you trying to say? you don’t know. bokuto has no chance of deciphering it.

but, he simply beams at you. “i’ll pay!”

sure, he has more money in his bank than you could ever dream of having – damn professional athletes and their egregious pay checks – but you still don’t want him to pay for you.

“it’s okay,” you manage to say, holding up a hand to wave it off.

you don’t expect him to take said hand.

“please, let me treat you,” he grins. “as a thanks for helping me out with the bills last week.”

ah. that’s right. bokuto may be a sports star in the making, but he’s horribly lacking in the common sense most people rely on to make it through the day.

“okay.”

it’s very hard to say no to him when he’s looking at you like that, with his golden eyes all big and round and his fluffy hair falling around his face. damn him.

you let him fiddle away with one of the delivery apps – you admittedly aren’t paying much attention to what he’s ordering – and entertain yourself with the bare walls of your kitchen.

maybe you could sneak back to your room until dinner came?

“how was your day?” bokuto asks brightly, effectively trapping you in a conversation.

shit.

“uh– fine?” you swallow. “my lectures felt like they wouldn’t end, but i survived.”

“good thing you did,” he beams, tilting his head at you.

you blush, trying to ignore just how handsome he is. “how was practice?”

sure, you want to turn your tail and run, but you really don’t want to hurt his feelings.

“it was good!” he grins. “tsum-tsum’s been less annoyed with me recently!”

“oh, that’s great!” you mean it. from what you’ve heard about his team, this ‘tsum-tsum’ seems like he’s the sort of person who’s hard to keep up with.

“he almost gave me a compliment today,” bokuto said, voice brimming with pride.

“really?” ‘tsum-tsum’ doesn’t seem like the type to give compliments, but bokuto always has a way of seeing the best in things.

“yeah! he said my cross-court shot wasn’t half-bad!”

you’re not quite sure if that counts as a compliment, but you won’t pop his bubble.

“and omi didn’t flinch as much when i patted him on the back, either,” bokuto nods.

“do you still use that hand sanitiser i gave you?” it had been a mindless little gift, one you’d bought after finding out he works with a germaphobe, but you are curious nonetheless.

“of course!” bokuto nods enthusiastically. “it’s my lucky charm.”

your breath catches in your throat. does he not understand what saying something like that could do to a person? especially when it’s coming from the world’s best himbo? what are you even supposed to say to that?

for the first time today, the universe takes pity on you.

there’s a loud knock on the door.

bokuto perks up. “i’ll get it!”

“wait!” you call out instinctively.

bokuto pouts at you over his shoulder, frozen mid-stride.

“you’re shirtless.”

bokuto blinks at you for a moment. “is that a problem?”

three more brain cells stop fighting the good fight and perish. “no?” you frown. “yes?” he’s staring at you. “maybe?”

he’s still staring, a unique concoction of confusion, earnestness and disappointment in his eyes.

“it’s… a lot,” is all you manage to sew together.

“a lot?”

“you’re… a lot.”

“i’m a lot?” bokuto looks like he doesn’t know whether he should be upset by that statement or not.

“yes… muscles.” it’s official. you want to die. there’s no coming back from this.

bokuto glances down at his chest for a moment, a perplexed expression on his face. well, he is beefier than most, and none of his teammates are quite as built…

“just let me get it,” you breathe, well-aware of just how red your face is. after what is bound to be a horribly awkward dinner, you’d need to hop online and look for a new place to live.

you take a deep breath as you open the door, hoping, praying that this exchange, at least, would go smoothly.

you freeze as you look at the delivery boy’s face.

no way.

“holy shit,” makki grins, eyes crinkled and red cap slightly askew.

“no.” this is the last thing you need right now.

“this is where you live?” he asks, trying to pop his head through the doorway.

“uh—” you push him back instinctively, mustering up all your strength to budge the headstrong six foot asshole currently trying to force his way into your apartment.

he freezes, and you know the worst has happened.

“is that your roommate?” he asks, taking a step back with an infuriating grin on his face. “or are you getting some?”

“oh my god makki, i’m going to—”

“do you know this guy?” bokuto’s suddenly behind you, hands clasped behind his back and head tilted to the side.

“unfortunately,” you mumble, trying to keep your expression as neutral as possible. if makki catches even a hint of weakness, he’d press at it relentlessly.

you look him up and down, frowning. “i thought you were working at a tech shop or something.”

he shrugs. “i lied.”

“why?”

“i dunno,” he says, as if lying about your part-time job is the most casual thing in the world. “it sounded more impressive than ‘delivery boy’.”

it’s not like you expected any more from him, but even this feels a little strange.

bokuto’s stomach grumbles from behind you. you remember that he’s right there – and makki’s staring at him.

“why is he shirtless?” makki tilts his head to the side. “who is he?”

“my roommate,” you admit through your teeth.

makki stares at him for a few seconds more, a smirk spreading across his face. “is this why you won’t let us come over to your apartment?”

change of plans. time to pencil in a murder for seven o’clock. after your scheduled self-implosion, which is bound to happen any moment now.

“give me my food.”

“not until you answer my question,” makki grins, holding the takeout bag above your head. damn him and his height.

you glare at him, fists clenched at your sides. “i won’t hesitate and you know it.”

the threat of a knee to the balls is usually enough to make any man quiver. but not makki.

“really?” he smirks. “in front of your hot roommate?”

“i’m going to kill you—”

“i can’t believe you’ve been keeping him from us,” makki tsks, holding out a hand to bokuto. “nice to meet you. i’m a friend from high school.”

bokuto shakes his hand tentatively, a bit behind on exactly what’s going on here.

“and you are?” maki asks, a disgustingly sweet smile on his face.

“bokuto.”

“nice,” makki nods, looking him up and down. you know this will be immediately reported in the group chat. you’re never going to live this down. and, makki now knows where you live. you expect that you’re going to get some unwanted visitors very, very soon.

“get out of here,” you grumble, taking full advantage of makki’s distracted gaze and grabbing the bag out of his hand.

“hey!”

“have a nice night!” you call, pushing him out of your doorway with one hand. “i’ll leave you a bad review!”

“no, don’t—”

the door slams in his face, and you feel like you can breathe properly for the first time in the past ten minutes.

that is until you remember that bokuto’s standing right behind you.

“should we eat?” he asks, a little too close to your ear than you would like.

you flinch, taking a step forward. your nose presses against your front door and you curse every conceivable deity that comes to mind.

“yes,” you nod, lightly banging your head on the door. perhaps it’s what you deserve.

“okay,” bokuto says slowly, as if he’s not sure about what to do next. “i’ll get some plates.”

you take a moment to catch your breath. all you have to do is make it through, what? the next twenty minutes? surely you could manage that. surely.

bokuto’s already over by the couch, two plates in hand, and still very, very shirtless. that’s the reason everything’s gone tits up today. because he wouldn’t constrain his pectorals behind a thin wall of blended cotton.

but you sit yourself down on the couch after unpacking your food on the coffee table. you sit yourself down on the couch, unsure if you can find the strength to start eating.

bokuto plops himself down next to you. it’s almost like he’s vibrating with excitement. why does he have to be so damn hot and cute?

the two of you sit on the couch in total silence.

bokuto stares at you. you make a pointed effort to look anywhere that isn’t him.

“are you okay?” he asks, a genuine pout on his face.

“can you… can you put a shirt on?” it feels a bit like an admission, or some kind of surrender, but this has gone on too long.

“oh, okay.” bokuto hops up, watching you for a moment before dashing off.

once he’s out of sight, you sigh, resting your head in your hands. what is going on? when you’d gotten back from university, you hadn’t expected the day to go like this.

bokuto reappears out the corner of your eye, now modestly covered with a white shirt. it’s almost worse, honestly – the shirt really compliments his tan.

“are you okay!?” his voice pitches as he moves towards you, placing a hand on your back.

you flinch, dropping your hands from your face and closing your eyes. “yeah, i just…” honestly it feels a bit like you’re in purgatory. but that might sound a little dark. “it’s just been a weird night.”

“i’m sorry.” you can’t see bokuto’s frown, but you hear it in his voice.

you finally brave a proper look at him. somehow, his hair looks more deflated than usual.

“i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable,” he specifies, rubbing the back of his neck.

“uh–” you swallow roughly, unsure of where to go with this. “thanks? i guess?”

bokuto pouts at you, his gaze flicking down to the floor. “i was just trying to impress you.”

every single thought skids to a stop. what? what? he was walking around shirtless because he was trying to impress you? well, it worked, but he probably didn’t expect it to leave you speechless.

“you… were trying to impress me?” the words feel strange coming from your mouth, but you manage to meet his eyes.

“yeah,” he nods, his own cheeks darkening. it’s nice to know that the embarrassment isn’t one-sided. “my friend told me it was the best way to win you over.”

whoever this friend is, you intend to have a very stern word with them.

“you could just… ask me out,” you blink at him, unsure of how to proceed.

“i could?”

“yeah?”

“would you have said yes?”

“i–” you clear your throat, breaking eye contact. “i guess?”

“so… that’s a yes?”

“yes?”

bokuto stares at you, cheeks even redder than before and mouth slightly agape.

“what?” you stare back at him. is he broken? has his brain finally given up too?

“do you wanna go on a date?”

“i–” it’s your turn to have your mouth hang slightly agape.

“please?” he asks, eyes going round and sad.

“sure,” you blink. you? bokuto? a date? when? how? what–

“woo-hoo!” bokuto cheers, pumping his fists in the air. “alright!”

oh man, this boy is definitely going to be the death of you. probably by heart attack. but, maybe that’s not the worst fate.

#happy birthday jac i hope you enjoyed this :(#bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto kotaro x reader #haikyuu x reader #this is (intentionally) a mess #i hope there's at least SOME coherency

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more-stuff-of-pi · 3 years

Text

I’ll Fight For You

a/n: lmao i swear i’m fine, just needed good ol’ kiri to assist me in a v self-indulgent fic. also, sorry for taking forever to write something yoinks

notes: did i read through this after i wrote it? nope. we’re fucking rolling with the audacity of not even a single ounce of beta-ing. requests are open :) find my masterlist here

pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader | genre: angst (w/happy ending) / hurt/comfort | warnings: abusive mother (mental/verbal), a father who doesn’t intervene | word count: 2,018

Your boyfriend was practically vibrating with nerves as he adjusted his hair in the mirror. It was artfully piled on top of his head, his dark roots making a sharp contrast against the vibrant red.

“Ei,” you smiled, “you’re gonna be fine.”

He worried his sharp teeth against his bottom lip, frowning all the while. “But what if they--?”

“They’re going to love you, Ei. Probably even more than they love me,” you joke, coming up behind Eijirou’s monstrously large form. Hero work had been both kind and harsh on him but he made it look effortlessly good. You gently slid your arms around his waist as you angled yourself so that you could still eye his reflection.

“I’m just… worried, is all.”

You cock your eyebrow. “About what, Ei?”

He incredulously meets your gaze through the mirror. “What do you mean, about what?!”

It dawns on you a little bit. “Oh, well, she’s not going to be mean to you, Ei. She knows how to play nice when it counts. And you, good sir, count.”

“That’s not as reassuring as it is worrying, you know.”

“My mother is just a little intense, babe, it’s nothing I’m not used to. Like I said, she knows how to tone it down in front of others. I’m sure tonight will be fine. I probably just exaggerate everytime I whine about her, so she’s probably not even half as bad as I make her sound,” you shrug, leaning more into Eijirou’s side.

“Baby,” he sighs, twisting a little to look directly at you, no mirror this time. His eyes are sad yet firm as if wishing you to understand that there’s no need to defend yourself with him.

You squeeze him tighter before letting go and walking to the door. “C’mon, we’ll be late if we don’t leave now.”

❁

You always forget that you don’t really ever exaggerate your mother’s behavior towards you until you’re around her again. Everything as far as introducing your boyfriend to your parents has been going incredibly smoothly. Your dad enthusiastically engaged Eijirou in hero stories, talking about Red Riot’s most recent media appearance where he was dressed in pajamas and carrying tubs of various ice creams you both had wanted to try when he dropped everything to prevent a construction beam from falling on clueless bystanders. Only one tub of ice cream had survived and luck had it that it was your least favorite flavor combination. Your mother praised Eijirou for his success and his coupling good looks at which she winked, making your boyfriend flush both at the phrase and the uncomfortable comments your mother directed at him. You winced at that, having forgotten to prepare him for the habitual talent your mother had of sexualizing anything, especially if it would ‘embarrass’ her child.

Your mother had made off handed comments throughout the whole night that you seemed to be the only one to pick up on. Your dad might have noticed a few but, as usual, he only looked at you apologetically, never interrupting his wife to stand up for you.

As much as you loved both of your parents and as much as they had their good moments, this fucking sucked.

“--not that she’s any good with that quirk of hers, of course,” your mother snickered as she brought the glass to her lips. You had become a good actor over the years in order to avoid your mother’s bullying over your ‘sensitiveness’, but something about her dismissing your hard work always immediately dismantled whatever mask you had thrown on. To cover what you know must be a crestfallen look, you give a laugh, something that could be called half-hearted at best. Your eyes remained trained on your food. “Oh come on, Y/n, that was funny.”

You chuckled again, hoping to force some genuineness into it. “Yeah--”

“No, it wasn’t,” Eijirou immediately cuts you off, voice straining with anger. You felt your face drain of blood as you noticed how tightly he was gripping his chopsticks. He was fuming. You don’t think you’d ever seen him angry before. The thought scared you. “That was just mean.”

Your mother quirked an unimpressed, subtly pissed brow at your boyfriend. “Don’t be sensitive, Eijirou. House rules: if it’s mean but funny, it’s okay.”

“As long as you get a laugh from it, it’s okay to abuse your child?” He spits at her like venom.

Your mother sets her glass down, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

“You heard--”

You slap a hand over Eijirou’s bicep, squeezing so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up bruising. “It’s fine! Nothing I’m used to! I grew up on the ‘if it’s mean but funny’ rule, so it’s fine.”

The look he gave you was of incredulous anger. “No, it is not--!”

“Please, Ei. Please, just--,” you averted your eyes, ashamed of your own familiar defeat. “Just sit.”

Shamefully, you slide back into your seat, nervously smoothing out a napkin back onto your lap. Eijirou still stood beside you, staring daggers at your mother who effortlessly returned it. His fists were balled, the veins in his hands flexing with the effort of restraining himself. His jaw snapped shut with an audible clamp as he resolved himself to sitting back down.

Your dad clears his throat, more so than necessary as if the harder he did it, the better he could dissipate the tension. “Done, everyone?” No one answers him. He takes that as the go ahead to begin clearing dishes, desperately jumping at the opportunity to escape your mother’s impending tantrum. You loved your dad very much but, god, he was nothing if not a coward, always leaving you to fight your own battles. You don’t think you’ve ever won.

Your mother returns her cold attention to you, the ice starting to thicken and your mother’s hollow kindness starting to retreat along with her patience. “What are you even doing to help train your quirk, sweetie?”

Taken aback, you met her gaze. “W-what do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t ever see you doing anything at all to help. You do realize that training takes work, right? What does it take? It takes--,” your mother trailed off, flourishing both hands to motion for you to finish the sentence.

“Effort--”

“Effort!” She clapped with your word. “It takes effort! And I only want the best for you, sweetheart, which is why I’m just asking what you’re doing. From where I stand, it doesn’t look like you’re doing anything at all to help improve yourself! As your mother, your concerned mother, I’m just looking out for you, sweetheart.”

Your mind is reeling at her words. You so badly want to defend yourself, assert all of the effort that you have painstakingly put in-- but you are reminded of the precise way your mother is able to leech any ounce of power or confidence from you. You would think that was her quirk if you didn’t know any better. “Mom, I am putting effort in, I train almost everyday--”

“Do you really?” Her voice drips with venomous shock. “It certainly doesn’t look like you do,” she gestures vaguely at you, eyeing your body with a vulture’s gaze. “Maybe you should consider morning and night. Oh! And a diet change, too. You know, since the popular heroes have a specific look to them and I just want to make sure that you can fit that. Since it’s your dream to be a popular hero. Like I said, you have to be willing to put in the effort. Oh, sweetie, don’t look at me like that. You know the difficult position I’m in! Trying to encourage you and help you achieve your dreams while not seeming too enthusiastic. You’re putting that stress on me, sweetie, I’m only trying to help.”

It really was incredible how quickly your mother could erase any confidence you had. Normally, you would stand beaming, more than happy to assert yourself and stand up for yourself and others. All it took was a couple words from your mother, and you turned into a dog with its head down and its tail between its legs, fearful of its master.

Your gut sank and hatred swirled throughout your body for both yourself and her as you once again let her have power over you. “You’re right. Sorry, Mom--”

“Do you know where your daughter ranks as a hero?”

Stunned, you both glanced at Eijirou, having almost completely forgotten that he was there. Throughout her tirade, you had felt a tragically familiar loneliness, used to having to defend yourself when no one, not even your other family members, would. Used to always submitting and used to the shame that always accompanied your forced silence.

“What?” She spat.

“I asked if you knew your daughter’s ranking. I just was wondering, is all. It would make sense if you weren’t aware that she ranks in the top 30 since you were asking about the effort she puts in. I would think that that accomplishment -- at such a young age, too, might I add -- was evidence enough of the countless hours, blood, sweat, and tears that she has poured into this. The effort she’s painstakingly put in. You’re right that being a hero is her dream, and she’s a damn good one, too. Saved my life more than once with ‘that quirk of hers’,” he sneered bitterly. “And, on top of that, she’s so beautiful through and through that sometimes it’s all I can do to stare at her in awe. Your thinly veiled shaming of her appearance is never the result of a mother’s so-called difficult situation, only the result of your own insecurities.”

Eijirou suddenly stands, having finally had more than enough for one night. “The only gratitude I will ever have towards you is for bringing this wonderful woman into this world. I hope one day you’ll actually realize how amazing your daughter is and how proud of her you ought to be. Because I am. I am so incredibly proud of her and her accomplishments and the results of her efforts.”

“And who’s to say that I’m not proud of her, Eijirou?”

He scoffs. Eijirou, the kindest, most patient man you know, scoffs in your mother’s face. “Haven’t you ever heard that actions speak louder than words?”

Your mother gapes up at him, opening and closing her mouth like a fish. In that moment, she resembles a fish and you couldn’t be more pleased with that comparison.

“He’s right, mom.” You rise to join him. “I know you love me. I have no choice but to believe it because I think it would destroy me if I didn’t. But maybe someday I won’t constantly have to defend myself to you and you’ll accept the things I say without dismissing them. You always say you admire me most for my assertiveness but you shut me down anytime I use it to stand up for myself against you. And that makes you nothing but a hypocrite.” You stare her down, reveling in the confidence Eijirou gives you in this thing against your mother. For the first time, you are not alone as you fight this battle. For the first time, you have help. And for the first time, you feel like you’ve won. “Now if you’ll excuse us.”

You take Eijirou’s hand and lead him out of the house, leaving your parents to stare after you in shock. As soon as you make it out, cold air hits you like a slap in the face that harshly wakes you from a daze.

“Holy shit, Ei, did I just stand up to my mom?”

He laughs and squeezes your hand. “It was pretty manly, too.” You laugh breathlessly, still in disbelief as you push your other fist against his arm. “And you know,” he continues, “that I’m the best judge of that.”

“That must mean a lot,” you grin, swinging your linked hands between you as you walk further from your parents’ home, feeling the fullness of a good meal and a battle won.

taglist: @samwrights, @mayaoliviee, @luluwiie, @gigglyparker (i thought i would tag you since you commented on the draft that i posted of this, hope you don’t mind <3)

#i'll fight for you #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #hurt/comfort #abusive mother tw #tw abusive mother #mha x reader #bro this fic lowkey fvcking sucks lmao so sorry that this is the first thing you see from me in a while #like it just feels really rushed which it probably is but it's incredibly self-indulgent and it fulfills my purposes so it's good enough #for me that is

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stardust-kenobi · 3 years

Text

Calm Your Mind

Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Your bond with Din continues to grow stronger, as do your intimate feelings for one another. You open up to him about being stressed, and he offers his assistance.

Warnings: fluff, light smut, fingering, Din being an angel and the king of consent

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: Ok so this is sort of a sequel to Stay but it can be read independently, which is why it’s named differently rather than as a part two. And just like that fic, the child isn’t with Din. It worked better for the plot I was writing. That remains the same in this fic as well. Side note: this is self indulgent

GIf is not mine

“Told you I’d win” you chuckled, throwing your cards flat in front of him.

He breathed out heavily with a subtle laugh trailing the end.

“You won because I’ve never played this before” Din attempted to justify his loss.

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just really good at it” you teased.

“Probably a little of both” Din remarked.

You were both on your 4th card game of the evening, sat on the floor of the Crest’s cockpit so that Din could safely monitor the status of your trip. Unbeknownst to him, you stared at him, admiring his company, while he gathered his cards to start a new game.

A week had passed since you shared your first kiss together by the fire on Endor. You worried that things would be awkward. They were, at first, but it was your own fault for not knowing how to act with all of your built up romantic feelings for him. The issue of not being able to see him, though, thankfully didn’t create any barriers for you two.

That same night of your first intimate moment, Din asked if you would sleep in his bed with him. He claimed he felt bad that you were always shivering when you slept on the floor, but you know he needed your warmth and company during the night. It was so dark in his compartment that housed his small bed that he was able to comfortably sleep next to you while his helmet and armor were all removed considering you couldn’t see him. So now you sleep next to him every night. It’s cramped in his quarters but the comfort of his touch soothes you to bed every evening without fail.

To no surprise, you two couldn’t keep your lips off of each other. The access to his bare face in the darkness tempted you to no end. Overall, though, you were taking things slow with each other’s bodies. You’d not progressed any further than making out with him on nightly basis. His body provided a multitude of signals that he wanted more, some of those signals were more obvious than others, but you both understood that slower was better.

Through all of this, he also offered you a kindness that you’d never experienced before. He cared about you. He was protective of you. He never failed to make sure you were always feeling okay and that you were happy. Din was falling for you, too. That much was clear.

“Another round?” Din suggested.

“I’m feeling a little tired, actually” you announced, hinting that you were done playing.

“Okay. Get some rest” he looked back at you. It remained that you were only able to adore the reflection of the beskar that protected and covered his physical features. You stare for an obvious amount of time before he notices. Din observes the slight frown now present on your expression.

“Is everything ok?” He inquired with concern.

“Oh yeah, I’m okay. Really, I’m just tired” you admitted. That was the truth. You were tired. But you also had too much on your mind. Your past was haunting your memories. You hoped that sleeping would clear your thoughts.

“You seem stressed” he stated. How could he read you so well?

“Yeah...Just a lot on my mind” you confessed to him.

“Do you want to talk to me about it?” His tone was warm and worrisome.

“I know I haven’t been very open about my past, it’s just something I want to leave behind me. I used to live on my own...I was living life in constant danger” you started. Your eyes were glued to the floor. You were shy when discussing your life, specifically that part of it.

“You’re safe with me, y/n” he reminded you. “I’ll never let anyone or anything hurt you, cyar’ika. I promise”

A small bundle of tears formed in your eyes. You believed him, which made it more emotional for you. Memories of your cold, harsh past was absent now. All your attention turned to the warmth you felt for him inside your heart. He sees your sorrow building and pushes himself from where he sat to sit next to you.

“That means so much to me, Din” you looked up at him.

“You mean so much to me” he responded certainly.

His gloved thumb stopped the tear from trailing your cheek. Din was getting better at expressing his feelings, and you’d like to think you helped him achieve that.

“I don’t even know how to respond to someone saying something that nice to me”

“You don’t have to say a word, y/n. I just needed you to hear it. I needed you to know”

“Thank you” you said softly while leaning against his shoulder.

“No...thank you, y/n” he said, grateful for your presence.

“I haven’t always known how to express myself...or my...feelings I guess” he began “but somehow, with you, it feels easier”

“You say everything that you need to say” you consoled him.

“Are you happy?” He inquired suddenly

“I’m happy with you, yes. I just wish I could calm my mind” you breathed out in frustration.

“You really should go lie down, get some sleep” he suggested, wanting you to be able to relax. “That might help”

“Okay” you agreed. Din rose to his feet and turned to lift you onto yours as well. You smiled sweetly as his gestures and migrated out of the cockpit.

“I’ll be there shortly, need to adjust some things on the ship first” He said, turning toward the ships controls, assumedly to set it to autopilot for the night. His attention snapped to you behind him once more to see you smiling back at him.

You changed your clothing. You remained only in a tank top and some shorts. As you crawled into the bed, you closed the door, waiting on Din to join you soon. You knew he had to remove his armor before entering and you wanted to close yourself off from accidentally seeing him helmetless.

As you laid there, you wondered if you had the time to masturbate. Your tension from your loaded stress and racing thoughts could likely be somewhat deflated if you could relieve yourself in that way. You feared being too forward by asking Din to help you, so you wanted to do it quickly on your own.

In the process of making the decision, Din knocked twice onto the door, meaning he was going to open the door and to shut your eyes.

You hear the latch close as the weight of his body joined next to you. When you opened your eyes, It returned to complete darkness as your mind is beginning to calm itself with his close presence. You couldn’t wait to feel his body against yours. As you turned over, you feel the bare skin of his chest, a new experience for you. Normally, he keeps his undershirt and pants on when he sleeps at night.

“It’s a little warm in here. Is it okay that I’m like this?” He asked. You never got over how lovely his pure voice was when he was without his helmet and so close to you.

You took in the feeling of his unexpectedly soft skin on his torso and firmness of his abdomen against you. Your fingers travelled from his neck to his stomach, admiring the way he felt. The way he really felt.

“This is more than okay to me” you said, a satisfied tone in your voice.

“Okay, sweetheart”

Your heart melted at this new name for you. You shyly giggled.

He responded by pressing his lips against your forehead delicately before bringing them down to your mouth and pushing his kiss deep into you. You savored his scent and his taste while you could.

“Goodnight” he whispered.

“Goodnight”

You tossed subtly back and forth, and in the small space, it was apparent to Din. You couldn’t fall asleep, not with your current state of mind.

“Y/n are you alright?” He worriedly asked when your restlessness persisted.

“I can’t sleep” you frustratingly stated.

“What can I do to help?” He inquired.

Here’s your chance, y/n...

“Well you could....” you started, unable to finish your sentence.

“I could what?” He awaited your request.

“Um, usually when I’ve got a lot on my mind I’ll...y’know...” you continued hesitantly

“What do you mean?...oh!” He realized what you meant after it processed with him.

“You don’t have to do that though, just forget it” you spit out, not wanting him to pleasure you if he didn’t want to.

“I...um, I’d like that, actually”

The way he said it you could just tell there was a giant smirk plastered onto his expression.

“Really?” You rhetorically asked, shocked at his response.

“I want to help you feel better...and feel...good” he struggled to find the words. Your heart began to beat faster, this was the first time he’d touch you, really touch you.

“Is that okay?” He requested your consent.

“Yes” you breathed softly.

“If you want me to stop just tell me”

“Okay”

“I’m gonna get on top of you okay?” He walked you through his actions because of the darkness inside his quarters.

You laid flat on your back and he placed one knee between your partially opened legs and the other knee to the left of your hip.

You heart fluttered and the butterflies inside your stomach were so excited that they tried to fly away from you. You were nervous, but you were ready for him to have his hands on you, and in you.

His lips crashed into yours again. He pressed them into you deeply and your mouths danced together in sync. It grew more intense while his hand wandered your body gently, his bare hand. His skins against yours. His fingers curled under the hem of your shorts and tugged lightly. You lifted your hips, allowing him the ability to remove them. As you shimmy them off at your ankles, the warmth of his hand slowly travelled up your thigh.

The kiss was removed from your mouth and relocated to your neck. Something barely resembling a moan was released from your mouth at the feeling of him exploring you. He smiled against your skin, continuing to place delicate pecks down to your collarbone.

His finds his way to your slit, barely accessible to him with the narrow opening you provided with your legs.

“This still okay?” He wanted to reconfirm with you before he went any further.

“Yes, please” you begged, so aroused already that you could barely stand it. You opened your legs slightly wider.

“You’re so soft” he whispered as he trailed his fingers up your slit, finding your aching clit and applying slightly pressure.

“Mmm” you moaned softly

He took it slow, responding your voice and body language as you rolled your hips up into him. He laid 3 fingers flat against your clit and rotated them slowly.

“Does that feel good, cyar’ika?”

“Yes, Din” you breathed.

He rubbed with more pressure, adding to your pleasure as he continued to focus on your sensitive parts. You whimpered at his touch while he hovered above you, listening to your sounds and focusing on making you feel good.

You didn’t think he had much experience in this area but he was proving to be a quick learner.

You were dripping wet now and needed to be filled. He must’ve read your mind because as soon as you felt your own wetness pooling between your legs, his fingers arrived at your entrance.

“Shit” you cried as he pushed two fingers inside of you. Your walls were tight around him while he pumped his digits slowly.

“That’s it” he encouraged you. “tell me how good it feels”

“It feels so good, Din” you moaned to him. His lips pressed firm against yours again, unexpectedly. You slipped your tongue between his lips and he gladly reciprocated the action. You continued to moan into his mouth in reaction to his fingers pumping faster.

Subtle, precious noises came form within him too. He was turned on by pleasuring you that it too brought himself pleasure.

He was consistent with his motions inside of you, making it easier for you to reach your orgasm quicker. His fingers curled as they retracted, hitting a deep sweet spot against your walls.

“You like that? Huh? You gonna cum baby?” He seductively asked after pulling away from your lips, his mouth close to your ear.

“Yes, I’m so close” you breathed out hard to catch your breath.

“Cum around my fingers, cyar’ika. C’mon” he coaxed you closer to your climax. His voice was no doubt the sexiest thing about him, you could cum to the sound of his voice alone. His words words were filled with an alluring tone, something you really hadn’t heard from him before.

“Fuck, f-fuck yes, I’m gonna cum, Din” you whined with your climax arriving gradually.

“Yeah, there you go, cum for me”

On his command, your stomach tightened. The orgasm formed and washed over your body so gracefully.

“Yes, Din, fuck!” You cried his name before rolling your eyes into the back of your head, seeing stars, overwhelmed with the pleasure that flowed through your body. Your hips rolled up into his body still hovered above you and your back arched in response to the sensational feeling radiating through you.

Din slid his arm under your arched back and held you close to him. He focused intensely on riding you through your high. He showed how deeply he cared about your body and making you feel good.

“Oh my god” you whispered through your heavy breathing, realizing as you came down that it was one of the most intense climaxes you’ve ever had.

“You sound so beautiful” he spoke softly, removing his fingers from you gently.

You giggled and wrapped your hand around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. You pulled at the top of his pants, showing him you wanted to return the favor. He stopped you.

“This was about you. We’ll worry about me another time" he gestured. Unknown to him, you smiled at how polite he was.

“Are you sure?”

“Let’s just sleep now, okay?” He kissed your forehead delicately and returned himself next to you. You feel his arms wrap around your body, and his hand pulled your head onto his chest, so that you could rest peacefully with a clear mind.

IDK WHY I FEEL LIKE THIS SUCKS BUT I AM POSTING IT ANYWAYS OK BYE :)

#din djarin #mandalorian #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din x reader #din djarin fluff #din djarin smut #mandalorian smut #my work #mandalorian fluff #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x you #mandalorian x y/n #mandalorian x you

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feanorianethicsdepartment · 3 years

Text

heeey! so back when @eirianerisdar posted chapter 12 of their fic the ransom of the house of fëanor - that’s the one where they finally let the brothers hellspawn and their idiot dad out of the void, but they have to throw elrond in, all very sad - i thought up my own somewhat fluffier vastly dumber au for the end of that chapter. in honour of the fic being finished, i’ve decided to write up the various scattershot ideas i’ve had for it, with the caveat that i’ll be working off my own slightly different background headcanons

the divergence point is roughly when elrond announces that he’s totally going into the void now, for realsies, the local ainur are nodding solemnly, and the fëanorians are running preliminary can-we-take-them calculations. except for maedhros, who’s very sad to hear that they must sacrifice his nephew to the eternal dark for their freedom, ‘tis truly a shame, they will honour his memory and GET THE BOAT, BOYS

or, the original elf mad scientist, his murderous blood-hungry spawn, a guy who’s extremely grouchy about not getting to do his dramatic self-sacrifice, and their somewhat-less-reluctant-than-he-should-be getaway driver go on the lam

how they got away from the valar:

námo: already knew this was going to happen, but it’s not like anyone ever listens to him, is it? in the moment, was a little more concerned with how morgoth had started belly-crawling towards the doors of night

manwë: never wanted to throw elrond into the void in the first place, and has been silently hoping elrond would call his bluff for the past week. the children are all safe and inside like they should be, and isn’t that what really matters?

eönwë: no it isn’t boss the fëanorians are a completely unpredictable wildcard we cannot afford to let them run around unsupervised!!! would probably have at least delayed the family hellspawn until backup could arrive, except

olórin: realised what maedhros was planning almost immediately and had to consciously force down a shit-eating grin. as soon as the brothers started moving, divetackled eönwë

[from a note attached to a harpoon lodged outside the highest window on the white tower of the isle of seabirds]

elwing - it went better than i expected, honestly. the sons of fëanor took about as much offense to elrond’s plan as everyone else has, except when words didn’t work they resorted to action. they dragged him onto vingilot and i followed them, and then we cast off together. we’ve set sail for as far away from the doors of night as we can get. i’m coming with them, of course, i’m not letting these lunatics crash my baby

i’m not entirely certain when we’ll be back? the fëanorians seem worried the valar might come after us, which wouldn’t surprise me, really. i’m taking us out towards middle-earth, we’ll see where we go after that. they’re all screaming at each other and running across the deck, i’m not convinced they have much of a plan. elrond is yelling too, he’s arguing with either caranthir or curufin, can’t tell which. the one i suspect is maglor has wrapped himself around his neck and refuses to let go. our son is alive and healthy and not in the eternal darkness, and for that, at least, i am grateful

the redhead who’s co-opted the harpoons says we’re coming up on your tower. no one’s done anything to threaten me or elrond, or even looked at the silmaril. there’s something nice about sailing with a crew again, no matter who it is. i love you, and i’ll be back as soon as i can - eärendil

[from a note attached to a harpoon found among the ruins of a house in the tirion stonecarvers’ district]

you were right, nerdanel. you were right about everything, and i was wrong. i’m sorry. the boys and i are going on another adventure right now, but we’ll come back to you someday, i promise

[from the same note, in much neater handwriting]

tell tyelpë i love him, and also that the coordinates are [rest torn off]

the first sign of this mess that reaches arda is the morning and evening star disappearing from the sky. gondorian astronomers, haradren scholars, avarin priests all stare flummoxed as the star of high hope simply fails to appear before the sun. no matter how unsuperstitous they are everyone agrees this is a really bad omen, and all across the globe the high halls of power tremble in fear over the new horror this must portend

the first sign of this mess that reaches the shire (except for that one took who’s really into astrology) is when eight-year-old elanor gardner rushes into bag end the next day, all ‘dad! dad! there are elves in the woods!’

sam is pretty chuffed to hear this. the fair folk don’t pass through the shire half as often as they used to, and it’s been some years since he heard their song. if they’re in the neighbourhood, why, it’d only be polite to say hello, wish them luck on their journey, hand them a letter. he packs up a nice tuck-box full of goodies to share, and then sam and elanor (and frodo, who’s going through a following-his-big-sister-around-and-copying-everything-she-does phase) set out to meet the elves

first they hear the shouting. then they see the smoke

at the end of the path his daughter leads him down, sam finds the wreckage of what looks like a crashed boat strewn across the forest, still faintly smouldering. at least a dozen elves are rushing between and up the trees, yelling at each other in the angriest quenya he’s ever heard. in the middle of the impact crater stands a blonde elf carrying a stone that shines like the phial of galadriel, wailing something sam knows just enough sindarin to recognise as ‘MY SHIIIIIIIIIP’

as sam’s gaze pans over the unfolding catastrophe, his eyes land on one of the last elves he’d expected to see, master elrond. elrond is rubbing his temple, groaning like someone who knows he’s the most responsible person around and really wishes he wasn’t. a vaguely familiar sketchy-as-fuck elf is clinging onto his shoulders, in a not-dissimilar way to how frodo-lad is currently riding on sam. elrond catches sam’s gaze

‘greetings, master samwise,’ says the wisest elf-lord of the west, ignoring the scuffle that’s breaking out behind him. ‘i must apologise for my relations’

(fëanor and elanor become fast friends, teaching each other their languages and exploring the shire together. absolutely no one else is okay with this)

fëanor, dragging an incredibly-put-upon elrond around the citadel of minas tirith: grandbabies!

fëanor, marvelling over the embroidery arwen is showing him: great-grandbabies!

fëanor, carrying a tiny giggling eldarion all the way up the tower of gondor: great-great-grandbabies!

fëanor, staring fixedly at an increasingly apprehensive aragorn: great-great-great...

celegorm, on dad-watching duty: actually if you lay the maths out it’s very likely every human in middle-earth is descended... from... elros... fuck

fëanor: has gone completely still

fëanor: massive grin spreading across his face, eyes sparkling like the two trees brought back to life

fëanor: eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

#feanor is basically that one hishe darth vader 'i have a SON' skit brought to life change my mind #i love the demographic-math everyone-in-me-is-descended-from-elros thing and i'll bring it up at every possible opportunity #i'm sorry eirian i needed to exorcise the brain worms #anyway #my terrible fic #fic #house of feanor #elrond #earendil #feanor #samwise #elanor #pretty much all my fic content for this fandom is stupid feanorian aus i'm sorry #the sons of feanor do indeed get a bag end breakfast. it is deeply weird for everybody #they're also way way way too eager to potentially fight the eagles #feanor is having the time of his goddamn life and doesn't care what he breaks along the way #earendil may be exploiting the opportunity to talk to humans again #and elrond is the designated driver more or less by default. poor guy #they go on adventures. elrond gets to see his kids again. shit happens #i figure elwing eventually catches up with them but there's pretty much no way i can make a scene with her and the feanorians funny #the cool calm lady of the white tower front is going up FULL FORCE #also idk what's up with those coordinates curvo told tyelpe about but there's no way they don't lead to chaos

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lokilickedme · 3 years

Text

The Way

I’m writing horror again. I guess it’s that time, you know, that time that has nothing to do with Halloween or the seasons or whatever, that time when it just hits me for some reason. And just like I always do, I’ll say I don’t know why.

Even though I know why, and you know I know why.

Because the truth is always so much weirder and worse and more disquieting than any excuse I could make up for it, and sometimes I just feel the need.

Today I felt the need, and I couldn’t make it go away.

And so I sat down, and words I didn’t want to write were written.

8592 words I would rate this Mature 18+ if it was a fic, strictly because of the subject matter.

Warnings: Death, mostly. Religious trauma, brief descriptions of abuse, mentions of mental illness, domestic violence, grief, familial dysfunction, religious abuse, emotional abuse, medical conditions, brief mentions of drug use/abuse, mild gore in reference to corpse decomposition, psychological unease and mild terror, child abuse (mental/emotional/psychological), brief allusion to physical child abuse, cult references, loss of faith, attempted murder, possible actual murder.

A Note: I love you guys, you’re always so quick and willing to be helpful and offer advice and suggestions and such, and I adore that about you. But on this piece of work I ask that nobody offer any theories about what happened to my brother - medical, criminal, or otherwise - and please no suggestions on things we could do to pursue investigation, that ship has long sailed. It’s been 23 years and he’s a cold case. We spent years trying to sort it out but in the end it’s just something that happened, and we moved on because we had to. There are a lot of open ends, a lot of question marks, a lot of suspicious details that never connected to anything - and we tried, we truly did. If anyone out there knows the truth, they’ve never shown themselves to us. We do have our theories, but my brother was a secretive person living a life none of us knew about, and the people he knew weren’t people we knew. Everyone involved is either dead or moved on or got away with whatever it was they did, and there are only three of us who still care. It’s over.

Until today, I’ve never put these events into words.

It was something I needed to do, finally.

This is PART ONE. There may not be a part two, unless doing this ends up making me feel better.

Please feel free to comment if you wish. As you can see, pretty much nothing triggers me. I just ask that you please refrain from the type of comments noted above.

And thank you.

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This is, regrettably, a true story. Nothing has been changed but the names, because the dead don’t like being talked about, and James was just enough of a shit to haunt me for it.

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They made up their minds And they started packing They left before the sun came up that day An exit to eternal summer slacking But where were they going without ever knowing the way

They drank up the wine And they got to talking They now had more important things to say And when the car broke down They started walking Where were they going without ever knowing the way

Anyone can see the road that they walk on is paved in gold And it's always summer They'll never get cold They'll never get hungry They'll never get old and gray You can see their shadows wandering off somewhere They won't make it home But they really don't care They wanted the highway They're happier there today, today

Their children woke up And they couldn't find them They left before the sun came up that day They just drove off and left it all behind them But where were they going without ever knowing the way?

You can see their shadows wandering off somewhere They won't make it home But they really don't care They wanted the highway They're happier there today, today

- The Way, Fastball, 1998

That was the year James died in his sleep.

Or that’s what they say, anyway. Asthma, the likely cause based on his medical history, our first and least disturbing assumption. Undetermined, the official determination based on the hastily scraped-together autopsy, the best that could be done under the circumstances. We tell people he had breathing problems, and they nod their heads and agree because they knew he did, and now he’s been gone so long that nobody asks. Most of the people who ever met him have long moved on or disappeared or died themselves, or just remember him as the enigmatic middle son from the Keithley family that nobody really knew very well. You know, the odd one, the one that showed up at meetings maybe once a year and smiled nervously but didn’t really talk to anyone and always seemed anxious to leave? The one who died under mysterious circumstances? That one.

He left the way he always came in. Quietly, unexpected, without anyone being aware of either his entrance or his exit.

But me and mom know some things, and she’s not talking. She probably never will.

So maybe it’s time I did.

December 1998. I’d gotten married two years previous and moved back to the family land with my new husband. He hated it there, but we had an affordable place to live. It wasn’t bad. He’d tell you otherwise. The land never sat right with him, but I’d lived there too many years to see it. I’d been fifteen when my father uprooted his large family from the city and hauled us out to the great back door to nowhere, and even though I’d left several times to wander elsewhere, I always came back.

I didn’t realize why at the time, at any of the multiple times. But now I know. That place gets you, and it holds you, and unless you’re goddamned devoted to staying gone you will always be pulled back. It took me till I was 49 to funnel the necessary amount of devotion away from the religious dedication I’d had jackbooted into me and turn it toward getting out, but against a great number of overwhelming odds I finally did it.

But this isn’t about that, not yet anyway. This is about my brother James, and how he went to sleep one night and found his own way out.

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It was snowing, had been for days, a bit unusual but not unheard of. The part of the state we lived in was notorious for extended ice storms and we knew a bad one was coming, but until it hit we played in the snow like it was a gift and we were deprived children who knew it was all going to be taken away soon. My brothers and I were adults but you wouldn’t know it, watching us sneak around in the woods staging elaborate commando attacks on each other. James was the best of us, a stealth king who could stand in the middle of a room for an hour without a single soul seeing him. Perception bias, he said. Your brain ignores me because I obviously don’t belong, like those puzzles where you circle what’s wrong but it takes you forever to find them.

He crept around in the forest scaring the shit out of people, dropping his long tall self out of trees, appearing from nowhere to administer a well aimed snowball to the face of whoever happened to cross his path and then disappearing just as quickly. We called him a wraith and it wasn’t a good natured jibe. We meant it. He made people nervous. He was the stealthy kind of quiet you associate with danger, and he knew how to do things an average person doesn’t ever have any need to know. It was a quiet cool that we admired him for, because none of the rest of us had it.

The religion we were raised in kept a tight lid on us, but me and James, we never really let it get into our bones. We were the smart ones, in retrospect. I went through the motions by force of habit and a sense of self preservation, doing what was expected and demanded of me, following the rules and making myself a perfect example of a young member of the church so I wouldn’t bring shame on the congregation and my family. But mostly the congregation. It was always more important than anything else. And I had behaving down to an art form, but mostly when people were looking. Usually also when they weren’t.

But sometimes, not quite.

And then I prayed for forgiveness about it later because God was supposed to forgive you if you asked him to, right? The tenet of willful sin being unforgivable never took root with me even though that was what the church conditioned into us through fear and constant repetition. They said it from the stage two nights a week and again on Sunday to hammer it home. Two nights a week and again on Sunday my head silently disagreed. God’s not like that. And then I did the praying for forgiveness thing even though I knew I was right, because I was disagreeing with the church, and the church was God’s channel here on Earth, wasn’t it? I committed a mortal sin at least three times a week on that subject alone, and though the dread of divine punishment was hardwired into me, I never could reconcile the concept of a loving and forgiving God destroying me simply for knowing better.

I’m not sure the comprehension of an overwatching deity ever actually established itself in James’ brain. A moral code, yes. But isn’t that what God is, really? Maybe he understood more about God and forgiveness than the rest of us. But he was considered an unapproved fringe member of the church because he couldn’t suffer people and noise and being looked at and he refused to preach, and he was soft-shunned as a result. Because if you weren’t all in to the point of being willing to die at any moment for your faith, you were as good as faithless.

And faithless meant condemned. And the congregation couldn’t be bothered with condemned people, regardless of their reasons for not having both feet in the water. The first and only option on their list was to put the person out and let them find their own way back once they realized they had nobody left in the world who cared about them.

James escaped that somehow. He was supposed to be shunned whole scale, but he wasn’t trying to convince anyone to leave the faith and he presented no threat to anyone’s strength of belief, and so far as anyone knew he’d committed no grave sins other than disinterest. So the rule that dictated we cast him out was bent enough to allow him to remain living on the family land, though at one point during a fit of overzealous righteousness my mother had tried to have a family meeting to vote on whether or not we were going to let him stay. I refused to vote and when I walked out of the house the meeting fell apart.

I’ve never forgiven her for that. Her son’s life being put to a vote with her presiding over the proceedings, vengeful and unfeeling and devoid of compassion on behalf of God himself. It takes my breath away, the anger, still to this day. The only thing I ever truly learned from my mother about parenting was a long and intensely detailed list of what not to do to my own children, and I suppose I should be grateful for that. It’s a bitter thank-you to have to give, but it’s something.

We knew James as much as he would allow us to, and not an inch further. Which meant the extent of our knowledge of him pretty much stretched to include the singular fact that he was different. What that meant, I still don’t really know - but it was there from the day he was born, that slight off-ness, the oddly off center calibration that you can’t really see so much as sense in a person. I know now he was likely on the autism spectrum and he walked through life seeing and reacting to everything differently than most of us, but that wasn’t a thing back then. You were just weird, or you weren’t. And I’m not convinced that was a bad thing for him, strictly speaking. But in the confines of our religion and our family’s devout and sometimes violent dedication to it, it took its toll almost daily.

He stood out, and he was very much a person who didn’t want to. He wanted to fade into the background, to not be seen, to not be known. And our religion didn’t tolerate that kind of nonsense, because we were commanded to be bold bearers of The Word Of God, and no exceptions were made.

None.

I’m going to stop calling it a religion now. I beg your indulgence as I shift to calling it what it is, because calling it a religion is an insult to actual religions that don’t destroy peoples’ lives with callous indifference and murderous glee.

We were raised in a doomsday death cult. There’s no other name that fits.

And we were trapped in it and its ugly cycle of neverending mental and emotional manipulation and abuse until we were adults, and some of us are still bound to it. My oldest brother worked his way up to the upper levels of oversight in the local congregation and was solidly entrenched in it until his death, which is a story for later. My youngest brother, the last remaining living blood sibling I have, is still deeply in it to this day and will likely never leave it.

I took the hard way out, three years ago, by walking away.

James, though. He took the easy way. He simply closed his eyes, and he was free.

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December 22, 1998. Three days before Christmas, though that meant nothing to us. The cult told us Christmas was a filthy demonic pagan ritual that was condemned by God, so to us the season was just a nice chilly time of year with lots of time off from work. We’d had an unusual amount of snow, the most we’d had in years. The roads were impassable and everyone was home except my husband, who worked close enough that his boss at the glass shop came and picked him up that morning with chains on his tires. Lots of windshields had shattered from the sudden violent cold that had struck the previous night and Scott had the only glass shop for sixty miles.

I think it must have been around noon, and likely my mother had sent my dad up the hill to see if James wanted to come down for the lunch she was making. He and his wife had split up against the strict rules of the church after a few years of suffering through an ill advised marriage, an important detail to this story that will come into the tale later, and he was alone up there at the top of the hill a lot. Sometimes he forgot to eat, or he got so busy that he just didn’t bother, so our mother always made something for him because even though he was in his 20′s he was still a kid who needed looking after and her zealous fervor against him had died down with time. I think he let her believe he was helpless because it worked in his favor and there was always lunch waiting for him in her kitchen as a result.

He was different, he wasn’t dumb.

We all lived on the hill back then with the exception of our youngest brother. He’d moved to the city with his new wife not long prior. The locals jokingly called the place a commune, and I guess they weren’t completely wrong. Thirty-eight acres of wooded land far beyond the city limits that we’d painstakingly spent years carving a livable space into, with five houses, all built from the ground up and inhabited by an extended family of well known culties from a well known cult. It’s almost comical, looking back on it, knowing now how they kept an eye on us for years to make sure we weren’t doing anything weird up there.

They should have run us off with pitchforks and burning stakes at the very beginning.

Things might have ended differently for us if they had.

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My grandparents lived at one end of the property, an old couple as simple and solid as salted soup, devoutly religious and devoted to the cult and very much cut from the can survive anything and probably will cloth like so many old country folks of their generation. They were waiting out the end of days up there in their little wooden house, expecting the final hour of this old system to come long before their own demise. I liked my grandmother, she had a sweet smile and fell asleep every time granddad started talking about the Bible and she paid me five dollars every Wednesday to drive her into town to get groceries, and years later, when she was dying, she told me she’d had a dream where she met my unborn son. I was four months pregnant and didn’t know yet that I was having a boy. She died before he was born, but to this day, fifteen years later, he tells me he’s sure he met her, he just can’t remember when.

I was scared of my grandfather. Not terrified, but there was nothing grandfatherly to him and I always suspected he never actually liked kids much. He’d once told us a story about the great Fort Worth flood that wiped out most of the city when my mom was a baby, and how he had told my grandmother to let go of my 2-year-old mother while he was struggling to get them across a rushing flooded creek in water up to their shoulders. My grandmother couldn’t swim. We could make another Ruthie, he said. But I couldn’t get another ‘Nita.

He said it proudly, like he was to be admired for his choice. I was young when he told that story, but it settled into me that this was evil.

Even when he was old as dirt and dying of a brain tumor in hospice care, he made me uneasy. I was never close to him. But for some reason, in his final days, he forgot who everyone was except me. I had been living in another state for years and he hadn’t seen me since before the tumor started taking his life. But when I walked into the room he turned his head and looked at me, and he mouthed my name.

He couldn’t speak. I don’t know what he was trying to say, struggling with words that nobody could hear. And I felt bad. I didn’t want to be the last person he recognized. My cousins adored him and had spent the last few years constantly at his side, and they were angry, maybe justifiably, that I was the one he reached for.

I didn’t want that at all.

I don’t believe he was a bad man, but he never spoke of anything except the cult’s interpretation of the Bible, and it was as tiresome as it was terrifying. Granddads are supposed to be fun. Ours quoted doctrine at us in a deep loud commanding voice that you couldn’t interrupt and you couldn’t tune out, and once he got going you had to just settle in and wait for him to run out of zealous steam. And then he would suddenly stop and command grandmother to turn on a John Wayne movie and bring him some ice cream, and it was over until the next time.

I know my mother resented him. She knew grandmother was the one that had refused to let her go, the one that had held onto her even though she almost drowned by the simple act of holding on. She knew her father had been willing to let her wash away and drown. That he thought she was interchangeable with whatever baby they would have next. How she could spend her entire life with that knowledge and not be deeply affected by it was something that never made sense to me, but now, when she’s in her 70′s and I’m in my 50′s, I finally understand. It affected her. She’ll just be damned if she’ll let anyone see it. And she had stood there in that hospice room watching him mouth my name with resentment burning in her eyes, though she would have rather died than let anyone know what it was for. He’d forgotten her weeks ago.

The house in the center of the hill was mom and dad. The homestead. The house we’d all lived in together, that we’d built with our own hands, the first thing that marked that wild overgrown hill as a place where people actually lived. A long path through the woods connected it to the grandparents’ house, and it was the epicenter of everything in our lives. James and I had lived in the upstairs rooms of that house until we both moved out and married our respective mates years later, a reprehensible act on our part that was never okay with my mother and that she never forgave either of us for. She’d wanted us all to stay. We can all live here together until the New System comes, she always said. That’s how the Bible says it’s supposed to be. We can all keep each other safe and on the right path until the end comes, and then we’ll all be here together forever.

A decade later when I sat up on the hill watching that house burn to the ground, there was as much relief as grief billowing into the sky with the black smoke. It was the end of an era, and it was far beyond time for it.

Nobody saw it but me. James was dead, had been for years. Robbie was dead now too. Dad was gone, so was granddad. Me and my youngest brother David were the last two left of the kids, but he had moved to a neighboring city when he got married and he has never seen things the way I see them. We were of different generations, we weren’t raised the same way, and he’d never experienced the abuse I lived with for the first half of my life. And he had dedicated his own life to the cult with all the honesty and lack of guile that I didn’t have when I’d made my own dedication vows at the too-young age of sixteen.

It was the end of an era, but apparently only for me.

James’ house was up the hill, past a clearing where my dad used to keep old cars that he cannibalized for parts. Our oldest brother Robbie, long married with kids of his own, lived at the bottom on the farthest corner of the land. And my house was on the slope to the west, built on the spot where we’d cleared off an old half-fallen homestead from the late 1800′s, dutifully paying no mind to the fact that a grave was nestled into the slope, right where the yellow daffodils grew. The cult told us superstition was tied up with the demons and false religion, so we didn’t have the built-in human instinct that tells most people to stay the hell away from certain things.

We just pretended it wasn’t there, and put no importance on it. It was just an old grave. The soil was good and the garden I planted next to it did well, though those strange daffodils always wound themselves through everything I put in the ground. My husband said something wasn’t right about it, but I didn’t pay any attention to him. He hadn’t been raised as devout as me.

My dad knocked on my door around lunchtime and I opened it. He backed up, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, the fancy leather coat the dealership had awarded him when he was designated a five-star Chrysler technician and given the state’s first and only license to work on the new Vipers that had recently rolled off the prototype line. It was a cool jacket. Made him look like the old pictures my other grandmother had shown me of him from the early 1960′s, when he was young and very much a product of a fancier era. He’d never stopped greasing his hair back and was still so thin that he and I wore the same size jeans.

I’ve never understood the look on his face when I opened the door. To this day I can’t sort it. It wasn’t a blankness like so many people who’ve seen death wear without awareness. It wasn’t grief. It wasn’t even shock.

He was sorry.

Those were the first words out of his mouth.

I’m sorry.

I stood there, not knowing what he was sorry for. It was cold. I couldn’t push the screen door open very far because of the snow blocking it. And my father was standing at the bottom of the steps James had helped my husband build, his hands shoved down far into his pockets like a penitent child about to get in trouble, telling me he was sorry.

James is dead, he finally said. He’s in his house. I went up there and he’s dead.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I do now - just now, this very moment in fact, I know that I was the first person he told. He came straight from James’ house to mine and told me my brother was dead.

I don’t know what I said back to him, I just remember sitting down on the top step and feeling the cold bite of the snow through my pajama pants. There’s a vague recollection of putting my face in my hands, and the embarrassing knowledge that I did that simply because I didn’t know what else to do. And dad just stood there, nervously stepping from foot to foot in the snow, because he didn’t know what else to do either.

I think I asked How at some point. He said he didn’t know. He had something in his pocket but to this day I don’t know what it was.

I don’t know if it was important. Something tells me it was. Or maybe it was just the eternally present handkerchief he always kept on him.

I’m sorry, he said again. He seemed to feel like it was his fault somehow. I’m sorry.

What do we do? I asked him. I’ve never felt more blank. What are we supposed to do?

I don’t remember what he said, other than he was going to get my older brother. I remember thinking that was a good idea. Robbie would know what to do. He always did. Brash and blustery and bigmouthed, he got things done while other people stood around debating how to do them. He would get on it, whatever needed doing. He would figure it out.

I went back in the house and dad walked away, headed down the path through the woods that connected my house to Robbie’s, hands still shoved deep in his pockets, the big retro vintage Chrysler emblem on the back of his jacket the last thing I saw before I pulled the screen door shut. I stared down for a minute at the mound of snow it had scooped into my livingroom, still with no clue what I was supposed to do.

No clue at all.

I kicked the snow back outside and shut the door.

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It’s an odd thing, watching the coroner’s van drive away with someone you know inside it. Someone you saw just yesterday. Someone who was alive. Someone who should still be alive but isn’t, somehow. And since there’s really no way to earn a ride in a coroner’s van without dying, there’s an awful unsettling sensation to it that you can’t get away from. The last time I saw James he was laughing that devious little laugh of his, his eyes red and bloodshot from the ever present asthma he’d suffered with his entire life. I don’t count the sight of the coroner’s van leaving the hill via our long steep driveway with his cold corpse tucked into a black zippered bag, because I didn’t see him. I never saw him. I didn’t see him dead in his house and I didn’t see them carry him out, I didn’t see them put him in the van. I didn’t see him later, when it was all over with. And if I try hard enough I can imagine that van empty, with that long black bag tossed crumpled in the back without a body in it, and James somewhere else living his life however the hell he pleases.

I hold onto that. Some days it helps. And some days I think I see him, walking by the side of the road or getting out of a car in the post office parking lot, and it makes me happy thinking he escaped. I see him in every hitchhiker, in every wandering traveler making his way down the interstate, in every tall thin man I glimpse from the corner of my eye as I go about my business in town.

He’s out there.

I hope he’s happy.

The ice storm hit the next day.

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For the next two weeks we were stuck on our hill. Power out, no electricity, no heat, no lights, roads iced over and impassable. We all piled up in mom and dad’s house, quietly grieving James, trying to stay warm. Most of the state lost power for days, including the city 150 miles away where his body had been taken to the state coroner’s office. There was no apparent cause of death, so the state ordered an autopsy.

His body had just been placed into cold storage to wait its turn when the power grid went down. And then, by some unholy stroke of nightmarish luck, the facility’s generators failed.

Nobody could make it in to work because of the ice. By the time someone finally got into the morgue the cold storage had been down for four days.

Six bodies melted, including James.

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No viable autopsy could be done, though they tried their best I suppose. The end report was obtained two months later. It was mostly inconclusive due to the long delay and resultant decomposition of tissue. There was apparent scarring on James’ heart, but it was old scarring and had nothing to do with his death. His lungs were scarred as well, but that was no surprise, he’d had severe asthma his entire life. There was no determinable cause of death, no inflicted trauma, no presence of illicit drugs as far as they could tell from the limited toxicology report they managed with what they had to work with.

No reason.

He’d simply died.

It seemed fitting, to me at least, that the end of him be enshrouded in an unsolvable mystery. He was a secretive person, intensely private. He would have loved knowing nobody had a clue what happened to him.

And so we drew our own conclusion as a family. He’d had an asthma attack in his sleep. There had been an inhaler next to his bed, but it was new and still in the box. He simply hadn’t woken up to use it. Dad didn’t participate in the drawing of this conclusion, his input kept stoically to himself, like he knew something the rest of us didn’t.

We pretended not to see it.

He and mom braved the last of the ice a few days later to make the 150 mile drive to see James one last time.

They came back different.

You couldn’t tell it was him, my mother said. He was melted, literally. It was like one of those science fiction movies where they melt you with a laser beam and you turn to goo.

Dad had nothing to say. He went to bed and stayed there until the next day.

You can go see him, mom told me. I’ll go with you if you want to go. But I don’t recommend it.

I decided not to go.

And so I never saw my brother dead. I never saw any proof that he was gone. He just wasn’t there anymore. There was no funeral, he was cremated and his ashes were sent home weeks later, and I went on with my life with the image in my head of James, alive, somewhere else.

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Dad was different from that day on. He’d always been stoic, terse, strict. My childhood had been spent in fear of him, an eternal dread of making him mad and feeling his temper erupt keeping me from showing any hint of a personality during my formative years. The cult had forced him to abide by the violent tenet of Spare the rod, spoil the child and there was never any risk of me being spoiled.

James being gone flipped a switch in him. He was nicer suddenly. Mellow. Kind. After the trauma wore off his humor discovered itself and he was funny. The dour angry demeanor fell off and revealed a man that I was sad never to have known before. He and I became friends. I could sense in his new attitude toward me that he regretted how he’d raised me and respected the way I’d always stood up and been my own person despite it. But my mother was falling off the deep end and for all the newfound easygoingness of my father, she counterbalanced it with an extremism born of the religious fervor of a mother determined to gain enough favor with God to see her dead child again. And she was going to make sure the rest of us did too.

We all had to get good and straight on the path, get completely right and stay that way, or we’d never see James again. He’d be in the New World and we wouldn’t, and how would she explain that to him? She and I worked together in a law office at the time and as she became more unhinged and unpleasant, I reacted by becoming more outgoing and accomplished. Our boss changed my work designation from receptionist to Executive Assistant and started teaching me how to do everything from filing papers at the courthouse to photographing accident scenes. I no longer answered to my mother, the office manager. I answered directly to the boss.

That didn’t go over well. She was a control freak with heavy untreated trauma, and the one person in the world she felt the most obsessive need to control was suddenly no longer under her thumb in a workspace where she considered herself the supreme authority. She countermanded every order the boss gave me and tried to load me up with general office chores that left me no time to do the important assignments he’d given me. I had no choice but to tell her she wasn’t my superior anymore.

She chose that day to have her nervous breakdown over James, jumping out of my car at a red light on the way home and storming angrily through a shopping mall with me trailing frantically along behind her, yelling for security to arrest me while I tried to get her to calm down. I ended up telling her she wasn’t the only person who lost James but that none of the rest of us were allowed to experience our own grief because we were too busy catering to hers.

She sat down on a bench outside the sporting goods store and glared at me with a cold hatred I’ve seen on very few other faces, ever.

I knew it would be you, she hissed at me.

That moment changed our relationship forever. It changed me forever. That was the day I decided my life was my own, that she not only didn’t have authority over me at work, she didn’t have authority over me anywhere else either. She could no longer dictate my actions, my behavior, my thoughts and feelings.

For this she disowned me. It was the first of several disownings over the next few years. I got used to it. We went to work the next day like nothing had happened, and I didn’t do a single thing on the task list she slapped down on my desk. It was a metaphor for the rest of my life, but I didn’t know it yet.

My husband and I moved out of state a couple of months later, away from that hill, away from her increasingly controlling paranoia and bitterness, the first of many small steps toward freedom.

As we were driving away with our trailer full of personal belongings behind us, he said one thing that I tried to argue against, but that somewhere deep inside I knew was probably right.

That land is cursed, he said.

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A few weeks before we moved my youngest brother came to town and we went into James’ house together. It was exactly like it had been the day my dad found him. The only thing that stood out as different was the bare mattress on the bed - the men from the coroner had wrapped him up in the sheet he’d been laying on and took it with them, leaving just the naked springform mattress James had bought for Jessica right before her final breakdown and their subsequent separation.

It took me a while to go in the bedroom, but I knew from the moment I walked into the house that I was going to end up there. I needed to see it, the place where James had closed his eyes and left us.

There was a small puddle of dried blood near the foot of the bed, brown and stained into the fabric. James always slept backwards, with his head at the wrong end. The blood had come from his nose.

I touched it. I don’t know why. It was dry.

He was gone.

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David and I laughed a lot that day. James had been funny in a way that was distinctly him, quiet and of few words, but those words had always counted. And as we sorted through his things and talked about him and moved some of his stuff into boxes to be stored away, I felt as much awed respect as befuddlement at what was around me. He’d never been a conformist, which I knew was why the cult had never gotten a firm grasp on him. He was unknowable and therefore unbindable. But his house was proof that he didn’t conform to any human expectations either, and nothing in it made sense unless you’d spent time around him.

There was an engine in the bathtub. I’m not sure what it went to. Another engine, in the beginning stages of disassemblage, rested on a blue tarp in the center of the livingroom floor, obviously the last project he’d been working on. There wasn’t much furniture - his wife had taken most of it when she left and it would have never entered his mind to replace any of it. Jessica’s cookware was in the kitchen cabinets, unused, some of it still in the original boxes, some not even fully unwrapped from their wedding shower years before. Jessica didn’t cook, she microwaved. David asked me if I thought it would be okay for him to take a glass Pyrex measuring cup because he’d broken his. I told him to take it. It had never been used.

I didn’t want anything, but knew I needed to take something. One of my husband’s solo CDs was sitting on the entertainment center and the cover, the cover I’d designed, caught my eye and brought me to the CD player to pop the tray open.

Inside was a CD single of The Way.

It was the only thing I took.

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My husband told me some time later that my dad and older brother had altered the scene before the police arrived. After the phonecall from me his boss had rushed him home and he’d gone up to James’ house without my knowledge. He’d thought it strange that he’d had to step around at least a dozen empty compressed air cans scattered haphazardly around the place as he entered, like they’d been used and tossed aside one after another. There had been several more on the floor around the bed. My father had told him to go back down and see how mom and I were doing, and when he returned to James’ house after the coroner’s departure, the cans were gone. Other than that he said things seemed different, but he couldn’t say quite how. Just not the same.

He told me my dad didn’t call the police until after he and Robbie had been in there at least an hour, alone with the body.

It’s not something we’ve talked about often, because there’s no satisfactory explanation for it that either of us can come up with. My mother says they probably didn’t want the police to assume the cans meant he was huffing compression fluid and accidentally killed himself, because Look at the shame and reproach that would bring on the congregation if anyone thought such a thing! We all knew he used the compressed air to clear the valves on the engines he was working on, all mechanics do, it’s common. Wouldn’t the police have accepted that explanation? Dad was the only one that spoke to them. They wrote down whatever he said, and then they left, and then the coroner came and took James away and that was that. My father, the most upright straight-and-narrow devoutly dedicated man I’ve ever known in my life, misled the police for a reason that he took with him to his own grave.

The only other person in the world who knew the truth about it took it to his grave too.

At the same time.

In the same car.

Four years later, on October 18, 2002.

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The big garbage bag of empty air cans and whatever else that was removed from James’ house that morning had been stashed in my dad’s garage and stayed there until a few weeks after he and Robbie’s joint funeral, when my mother asked my husband’s old boss to come and dispose of it. Scott was a man who knew people who could do things.

The evidence, whatever it was evidence of, vanished.

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The mystery around James never dissolved and eventually no one talked about it anymore, I guess because there was no way we could ever truly find out what happened without him here to tell us. There were a lot of details that we could never find a way to weave together into anything that made sense and a lot of it was probably inconsequential anyway. There was a girlfriend that he’d tried to keep hidden from us, a woman that was quite a bit older than him who wasn’t a member of the cult and therefore needed to be kept a secret. In the end she had convinced him to stop hiding their relationship and he’d bought her a ring. We met her all of twice before he died, and within days of his passing she left town with her brother and never came back, taking whatever she might have known with her.

James’ ex Jessica had sneaked onto the hill and broken into his house to put a dead raccoon in his kitchen sink a few days prior to his death. We were shocked when he told us she trespassed on the land often without anyone knowing, and my mother made my father fix the electric gate down at the road so that it wouldn’t open without one of three clickers in the possession of herself, my father, and me. James would have to come to her house and get hers any time he needed to leave the hill, an arrangement he agreed to because Jessica stole things from his house all the time, she would absolutely take a gate opener if she saw it.

He told us the gate wouldn’t keep her out though, and that she didn’t come in that way anyway. The only way to protect ourselves from her was to lock her up and he doubted even that would do it.

He died less than a week later, and twenty three years later we still don’t know how or why.

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We never felt safe on the hill again. Jessica was deranged in the worst possible way, we’d known it for a while, and James was her obsession. She’d threatened to kill him multiple times and had tried twice. We hadn’t known this, because James, big strong stoic Clint Eastwood type that he was, wasn’t about to tell anyone he was violently abused for years by a skinny little woman that everyone believed was not much more than a meek dormouse with shyness issues and a case of painful awkwardness. But we knew she was evil. We just didn’t have any proof.

The first thing my mother said after the initial emotional breakdown of finding her son dead was Jessica did this, I don’t know how but I know she did it.

I believe she was probably right. But if Jessica was anything she was wily and devious with a strong survival instinct and an uncanny ability to lie convincingly and draw sympathy onto herself. She’d convinced us for years that she was the perfect combination of sweetly harmless and endearingly clueless, but that only lasted until the day she called 911 screaming that James was beating her and then threw herself face first into a tree in their front yard and sat, calmly singing and coloring in a coloring book on the porch with blood running down her forehead, waiting for the police to arrive. The act she put on when they got there was one for the Academy, but the officers didn’t buy it.

James calmly rolled up his sleeves and showed them his scars where she’d burned him and slashed him with a kitchen knife. He pulled up his shirt and pointed out the marks she’d left on him with her teeth and nails. He hooked a finger into his mouth and showed them the empty hole where she’d knocked one of his teeth out with a baseball bat. One of the officers asked him why he hadn’t killed her and buried her somewhere on the land already.

She left in the back of the squad car, and my mother took James to the courthouse to get divorce papers started two days later.

Jessica came to his memorial service when we finally had it, several weeks after his death. She wasn’t invited but we couldn’t keep her from coming. She wore black like a widow and created a dramatic disruption complete with loud wailing and declarations of undying love, and afterward she stood to one side of the room, smirking at us with the kind of icy malice that you only see on the dangerously deranged, and then usually only in the movies. Several people commented in hushed voices, asking why she’d been allowed to come. At one point she started wailing They killed him!!, but everyone with the exception of her mother ignored her.

Her mother, who was still in our congregation, flitted around the room chatting with everyone, sobbing her heart out like it was her own son we’d just memorialized. She was an ER nurse and had been famously fired from her job at the hospital for taking locked-cabinet medications home by the purse load. She claimed she put them in her pocket to use on her shift and forgot to return them to the cabinet before leaving.

Jessica had been staying with her for a while.

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We fed the crowd at mom’s later that afternoon with my husband and his boss guarding the gate, making sure she didn’t try to come into my mother’s house. The police were called preemptively, and because this was a town of 300 with not much of anything else to do, a squad car was dispatched and stationed near the inlet to the main drive.

Jessica showed up not much later, like we knew she would. She drove past the police and parked a few yards down from them in plain sight, just sitting there by the side of the road, far enough away from our property that we couldn’t legally do anything about it. The officers got out and talked to her, warned her not to cause us any problems, and she fed them a woeful tale about being banned from her beloved husband’s memorial service and denied the right to say goodbye to him.

The officers knew there was no body at that service to say goodbye to. They also knew her.

My husband came up the hill and told us she was down at the road and that Scott was blocking the driveway with his truck to keep her out. I told my mother it was time to file a restraining order against her. She was living in fear and Jessica was known to be trespassing on our property frequently. No, she told me with tears in her eyes but not a sign of distress on her face. It was a look I knew, because my mother rarely showed emotion unless she was angry and the rest of the time it was this cold detachment. That would bring reproach on the congregation because everyone knows what we are. I can’t do that. I won’t let her win that way. I won’t let her cause us to bring shame on God’s name.

God’s name. I took it in vain that day.

More than once.

I was leaving in a few weeks, moving a thousand miles away. My husband and I weren’t going to be there to help her keep an eye out, and thirty eight acres of heavily wooded land is impossible to protect and easy to sneak onto from a hundred different directions, James had shown us proof of that.

God will protect us as long as we do the right thing and leave it to him, she said. He knows what she is.

I think it was just a coincidence that nothing terrible happened in the following weeks, because my faith was getting tenuous and a lot of prayers were going unanswered. But Jessica quietly disappeared back to her own world after a couple of infuriating weeks of putting herself in our paths every chance she got, and not long after that my husband and I moved away, and as we left the driveway for what we thought would be the last time he sighed and shook his head with the exasperation of a man about to say I told you so.

“That land is cursed,” he said.

I tried to disagree, though I don’t know why.

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Less than a mile up the road we passed a man walking. He was tall and thin and covered in the dust of a long journey with a ratty backpack strapped to his back, and as we passed him I caught his reflection in the side mirror.

It was James, I knew it in my heart every bit as strongly as I knew it couldn’t be.

He was walking away from the hill, toward the west. The way we were going. And I swear on whatever holy relic you wish to place under my hand that he raised his head and met eyes with me in the mirror, and he smiled.

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