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yeraskier · 2 years

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the one where yennefer and geralt keep fighting over jaskier, aka the tale of three idiots in love (aka jaskier being oblivious for 4.5k words, teen audiences and up)

read on ao3 <3

Things have been… weird, to say the least.

Jaskier didn’t realize at first but it’s becoming increasingly difficult to simply ignore how strange Yennefer and Geralt have been acting.

The first time he noticed something was up was two months ago when Geralt and Yennefer essentially began a game of tug-of-war with him in the middle.

Geralt had needed him for something, then Yennefer showed up, apparently also needing him for something. Geralt had a hand wrapped around his left wrist and Yennefer’s hand was on his right one as they pulled at him, arguing over whose situation was more urgent. Jaskier didn’t exactly feel like his presence was a huge necessity in either situation but it wasn’t like he was in much of a position to protest.

It was Ciri who saved him in the end, scolding both her parents as she pulled him away.

Both of Jaskier’s shoulders were sore the next morning, and Yennefer, surprisingly enough, had decided to give him a massage. Then Geralt walked into the room and saw what was happening, glared at Yennefer, and left in a hurry. When he came back only a few moments later, he held a salve that he swore would be a lot more helpful than dainty little hands kneading at his shoulders. That sent them straight into another argument which left Jaskier feeling a lot less relaxed. He stormed out with a huff, their squabbling mercifully dying out the further he got.

Since then, things just kept happening.

Things like Geralt snarling whenever Yennefer and Jaskier joke about being married, and her grinning at him triumphantly when she thinks Jaskier isn’t looking.

Things like Yennefer muttering insults like slag under her breath whenever Geralt gets extra touchy during training and it affects Jaskier.

Things like Yennefer running a hand down his chest, only to hiss seconds later as she yanks her hand away like it’s been burned before turning to glare at Geralt’s retreating figure as he whistles into the air.

Things just won’t stop happening, and Jaskier… Jaskier has never been so confused in his life.

—

Jaskier releases a relieved sigh as he sinks into the hot springs underneath Kaer Morhen.

His body hurts, which isn’t exactly unexpected after a day of training with Lambert. One would think that he’d be used to it by now but it’s like the bastard purposefully makes each session more challenging than the last. Jaskier knows it’s meant to be helpful— well mostly, because he’s aware that sometimes Lambert is actively trying to be a dick— but fuck, he’s only human.

The one thing that gets him through training with Lambert is the knowledge that at the end of the day, he’ll find sanctuary in a lovely and peaceful bath.

Jaskier ducks his head under the water to wet his hair, and when he pushes his head back up to the surface, he’s nearly frightened right back under when he sees Geralt standing a few feet away.

“Fuck, don’t startle me like that.”

The witcher grins, looking amused, “would have thought after all the time you’ve spent traveling with me, you wouldn’t scare so easily.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes at the statement; they both know how unlikely that is, though he has become a tad more badass over the past decade.

“Mind if I join you?” Jaskier shrugs, gesturing with his hands in a way that says be my guest.

Jaskier doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to seeing the man naked. It’s always equal parts a blessing and a curse. The blessing of it all is very obvious, it’s Geralt. The curse comes from the fact that it pains him to be able to look but not touch, at least not the way he wants to. And lately, it’s been feeling like Geralt makes a game out of it. He undresses slower than he has in the past whenever Jaskier was around. It’s like he’s deliberately teasing.

Tonight, Geralt looks the bard right in the eyes as he peels off the layers. Jaskier looks away, flustered, and decides he’ll blame his reddened features on the heat of the water if it’s brought up.

He busies himself with scrubbing at his skin and sees Geralt swimming towards him out of the corner of his eyes.

“Are you feeling alright,” the older man asks once he’s mere feet away, “I watched you train with Lambert today.” That’s all the explanation he gives for his question, though Jaskier supposes that explanation is enough.

“Ah yes, well you know Lambert.”

Geralt hums in agreement, “I do.”

“It’s fine,” he reassures, “it’s about time I learn to protect myself anyway. I can’t always have you running in to save the day, can I?”

He laughs when he says it because it’s meant to be a joke, but Geralt’s features turn very serious as he moves in closer.

“What if I like protecting you?” Geralt’s giving him those eyes, that look that makes Jaskier want to kiss him and run away at the same time. It’s too much, too intense, and keeps Jaskier yearning for something he can never truly have.

“You always did enjoy a damsel in distress,” Jaskier tells him.

Geralt rolls his eyes.

Silence falls over them as they bathe. Jaskier tries not to look too much but it’s proving to be difficult with Geralt being right there. Geralt isn’t doing much of a good job at not staring himself, so Jaskier supposes it’s alright.

When he moves away to grab one of the soaps for his hair, Geralt follows and takes it from his hand.

“Let me,” he insists before moving around to Jaskier’s back.

The heat of the water doesn’t stop chills from breaking out over his skin at first touch. The only point of contact between them is Geralt’s hands in his hair, but Jaskier feels it all over, and Gods, it feels so good.

He says as much, tilting his head back further to give Geralt more access. The witcher massages the pads of his fingers against the sides of Jaskier’s head and his eyes roll back, a low moan escaping his lips.

Jaskier can’t be blamed, he’s always had a thing when it comes to his hair. It’s almost embarrassing how easy it is to get him to come by just pulling on it once he’s nearly there. He feels like he might be right now.

“You boys having fun?”

His eyes fly open. Yennefer’s standing where Geralt had been minutes ago, a tight smile plastered on her face.

“We were,” Geralt grunts from behind him.

“Well, why don’t I join you.” She chides, and it isn't a request. She’s already beginning to remove her dress.

Jaskier has seen Yennefer bare a handful of times, and much like Geralt, he’ll never get used to this sight either.

She swims towards them slowly, eyes on Jaskier the entire time. It makes him squirm.

“Jaskier, be a doll and wash my hair for me, would you?” Yennefer leaves no room for argument as she picks up another soap and puts it in his hand. It’s not like he’d try arguing against it anyway.

Jaskier feels Geralt’s hands move down to his shoulders as he runs his hands through the mage’s soft locks of hair. Once she’s satisfied, she submerges herself into the water. Yennefer’s facing them when she comes back up, and unsurprisingly, does not thank Jaskier for the deed.

She does however blatantly ogle his chest, eyes scanning over the area appreciatively. Yennefer hums, tilting her head to the side, “all that training has paid off, it seems.”

He registers Geralt’s growling as his brows shoot up. “Thank you,” he responds. It comes off as more of a question than an answer, Yennefer seems pleased by this.

She reaches for another soap, “may I?”

“Yes,” the bard says immediately despite not being sure what he’s agreed to.

Yennefer begins washing him. Her hands glide from the sides of his neck to the center, then down his chest and across his nipples. He takes note of Geralt’s hands also beginning to move further down, as well, first working along his shoulder blades before traveling down his spine.

Jaskier notices himself growing hard and starts thinking about that one rather hideous professor back at Oxenfurt who would spit every time he talks. It doesn’t do much to will his erection away.

Yennefer bounces between maintaining eye contact as she cleans him, and letting her eyes follow her hands as they trail over the skin. He can feel that Geralt’s closer now than he was before and it’s taking everything in him to not pull them in and let them ravish him.

This is starting to feel like the beginning of a very vivid wet dream.

Jaskier watches as Yennefer’s eyes narrow into slits, her gaze landing over his shoulder instead of on him. It becomes clear that she’s looking at Geralt when Jaskier hears the man snarl.

Suddenly, Jaskier is being pulled back and forth between the two of them, and being manhandled does absolutely nothing to rid him of his erection.

“Okay, okay!” Jaskier shouts, “off! Both of you, take your hands off now!”

They do so immediately and he tries not to whimper at the lack of contact he requested.

“What was supposed to be a tranquil bath has been soiled by your neverending passive-aggressive behavior towards one another,” the bard exclaims, making sure to level them both with his glare. Yennefer glares back, and Geralt crosses his arms over his chest defensively. “So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go to my room and lock the door so you can’t disturb my peace in there, too.”

He swims away, leaving the two to their own devices. He doesn’t even grab his clothes out of fear that it would give them the chance to catch sight of his erection.

The moment he’s safely locked away in the privacy of his room, Jaskier wraps a hand around himself.

He groans, flashes of fucking into Yennefer while Geralt pounds into him swaying him into a quick release.

—

There’s a hat on his bed.

It’s a deep purple with a wide and extravagant brim that’s slightly wavy. There’s a slim gold lining around the base that has a small gold obsidian star attached at the center. It’s stunning.

“Do you like your gift?”

Jaskier turns to face Yennefer who’s standing at the doorway.

This is usually the point where he’d make a joke. She’s giving him an honest Gods gift, their friendship has never had space for such… intimacies.

The joke is at the tip of his tongue, his lips stretching into a smile until he takes in her form.

She seems nervous. Her face looks stern, but she’s biting her lip. She has her hands clasped in front of her, but her fingers twitch. The thought is almost laughable because Yennefer of Vengerberg doesn’t get nervous, but Jaskier recognizes the signs.

His smile melts into something fonder, something more serious and less playful. “I love it.”

Jaskier can see her relax, shoulder’s lowering and chest widening on an exhale.

“Good.” She stands there for a moment longer, then smiles the way she had when they first saw one another again after the mountain. It’s as unexpected now as it was back then.

She walks away without another word.

Jaskier turns back to the hat and lifts it, heart thrumming as his fingers dance over the velvet.

—

It’s only a day later when Geralt approaches him in the hall.

Jaskier slows in his tracks when it becomes clear that the witcher is intentionally moving towards him.

Geralt has this determined look on his face that visibly melts the closer he gets. By the time he gets to Jaskier, he looks more anxious than anything. It worries the bard.

“Geralt,” he greets, sure to keep his voice mellow.

Geralt opens his mouth, closes it, then frowns. Jaskier frowns too.

He opens his mouth again, gets as far as, “I–” before he stops again. The witcher glares at the ground, fists clenched at his sides.

“Geralt,” Jaskier repeats as he steps closer, “are you alright?”

The older man looks up at him, eyes much warmer now than they were when he was looking at the ground. He lifts one of his hands and opens it.

He holds a necklace in his palm. It’s a silver chain with a wolf attached, one that matches Geralt’s medallion exactly, except smaller.

Jaskier stares at the necklace longingly then looks up at Geralt to see the man already watching him, searching for his reaction.

“Is this for me?” His voice croaks when he asks, throat suddenly too dry.

Geralt nods once.

He takes the necklace from the witcher’s palm and holds it in both of his own, “it’s beautiful.”

When he looks at Geralt again, he notices that they’re close enough that he wouldn’t have to lean too far forward for their lips to meet.

Jaskier doesn’t get the chance to entertain the thought because Geralt’s gone a moment later, leaving the bard alone in the hall.

It’s fine, he probably wouldn’t have had the courage to do it anyway.

—

Jaskier wears the hat the next time he performs for Ciri, Yennefer, Geralt, and the other witchers. The only time he gets dressy at Kaer Morhen is when he plays as their entertainment for the night, so the hat fits perfectly for the occasion.

Yennefer beams when she sees it.

Jaskier wears the necklace every day, much like Geralt does with his pendant, except Jaskier’s is usually hidden beneath his clothes.

Still, Geralt’s eyes soften whenever he catches sight of the chain peeking beneath the collar of Jaskier’s tunic.

—

A bowl of stew with a big chunk of bread is set in front of him, followed by Yennefer sliding in beside him on the bench.

He blinks at the food, then at her, “did you poison this?”

She glared at him. “Just for that question, I might.”

Jaskier grins. “I’m only teasing,” he tells her as he picks up the spoon, “but I must say, you’ve been rather pleasant these last few weeks. First the massage, then bathing me, gifting me a lovely hat, and now feeding me. If things keep going like this, I might start getting the wrong idea.”

Yennefer’s silent for a moment. Jaskier doesn’t take note of the silence until he stops eating long enough to catch her stare.

The mage doesn’t avert her gaze, even knowing she’s been caught. “Maybe I want you to,” she says softly.

For a moment, it feels as though his heart has stopped beating completely. He’s frozen in place, able to do nothing other than look at the woman before him. Her eyes bore into his like she’s expecting a response. She probably is, but Jaskier has not a single clue of what he should say to that.

He’s saved from having to figure it out when Geralt takes a seat at his other side.

“Why hello,” he drawls pleasantly.

The witcher hm’s in acknowledgment before placing an apple in front of Jaskier’s bowl of stew.

Jaskier gasps. He picks up the fruit, knowing the way he’s gawking at it probably makes him look ridiculous. “How on earth did you find an apple?”

Geralt shrugs, and of course, does not offer an answer to the question.

Jaskier finds that he doesn’t care as he bites into the fruit, taking much satisfaction in the crunch it makes as his teeth sink into it.

“Thank you, Geralt,” he says as he nudges the man lightly.

“Hm.”

“As talkative as always, Geralt,” Yennefer chimes in.

Geralt rolls his eyes at the remark. “I think you talk quite enough for the both of us.”

Jaskier pretends he doesn’t notice the two scowling at each other as he silently eats his food.

—

Weird seems to become a part of Jaskier’s life that he has to accept. He doesn’t attempt to fight it when Geralt and Yennefer act bizarrely.

Like, the time he mentioned being thirsty and suddenly had two different cups of water being shoved in his face. He didn’t ask any questions, just thanked them both and drank both goblets of water.

There was also that time Geralt walked in on Yennefer giving Jaskier a scalp massage and the witcher took that as a sign that he should be massaging Jaskier’s hands. The bard completely ignored the very obvious tension in the room between Geralt and Yennefer and kept his eyes closed as he hummed a tune, basking in the random, but very much welcomed, attention.

Jaskier didn’t even bother questioning it when he walked in on both Yennefer and Geralt making his bed, fluffing three new pillows that weren’t there when he left, and patting down animal furs that also weren’t there when he left.

Even now, with both Geralt and Yennefer in his space as he tries to cook for everyone in the keep, he mentions nothing. He doesn’t usually like people being in the kitchen with him, it messes with his process, but neither of them seems willing to leave so he lets them help. Yennefer cuts ingredients and Geralt passes him spices.

Jaskier even lets the mage taste the rice he’s cooking. Instead of taking the spoon from him as he expected her to, she leans forward and wraps her mouth around the utensil that’s still in his hand, licking her lips rather lewdly after she swallows. It leaves Jaskier gaping like a fish.

Upon hearing a low growl from beside him, Jaskier fills the spoon with rice again and turns to hand it to Geralt. Geralt does nothing until Jaskier thinks he gets the message and brings the spoon closer. Like Yennefer, the witcher leans forward to taste the food. Unlike Yennefer, Geralt releases a throaty groan when he swallows. Jaskier feels his cock twitch in his trousers.

Then comes the glaring contest that they always seem to have nowadays whenever Jaskier’s around. It only distracts him further so he shoos them both out of the kitchen.

Jaskier doesn’t think he’s ever seen two people who have sex regularly hate each other this much.

—

It takes Jaskier getting sick for Yennefer and Geralt to get along in his presence.

They might have made a challenge out of taking care of him, he thinks. Perhaps if he weren’t so frail in his current state.

They don’t, and Jaskier is grateful for it. They feed him soup and bring him tea. Geralt reads to him while Yennefer strokes his hair, and Yennefer hums his ballads while Geralt runs a soothing hand over his back.

When Jaskier starts feeling better, they bathe him. It’s not like the last time. This time, their touch remains gentle from start to finish.

After, they both hold him close like they’ve been doing every night for the last week. The three of them snuggle on the massive bed of his room as if they’re all meant to be there together.

Perhaps they are.

—

Jaskier rounds up all the ingredients he can find to bake them a simple cake in thanks.

Yennefer offers him a bright smile and he swears he sees Geralt’s eyes go glassy.

—

Things go back to normal after a few days. Well, their new version of normal any way, with all the touching and the glancing and the rather suggestive remarks.

Jaskier is beginning to think he might actually die from the combination of blue balls and a confused heart.

—

It all comes to a head on an unassuming Wednesday night.

“Oh for the love of Gods,” Lambert exclaims as he slams into Jaskier’s suite, “what is wrong with you?!”

Jaskier lowers his notebook to stare at the very angry-looking redhead and cocks a brow. “I don’t think I’m the one who just stormed into another person’s room in an unnecessary fit of rage, but please, continue.”

Lambert looks like he wants to strangle him.

“Geralt and Yennefer are in love with you, you insufferable little shite,” the pitcher barks, “and I know you feel the same way about them, and I speak for everyone in this keep when I say we are tired of this game of cat and mouse between you three. It’s the most extensive foreplay any of us have ever witnessed. Now, if you don’t do something about it soon, I will make it my personal mission to make sure you don’t make it out of our next training session with all your limbs intact!”

Lambert turns away sharply and leaves as quickly as he came in, retreating footsteps stomping down the hall as Jaskier stares at the space he stood only seconds ago.

What the fuck?

—

It takes Jaskier about thirty minutes of pacing around his room before he makes a decision.

—

He finds them in Yennefer’s room.

“Lambert says you two are in love with me!” He cries out as he barges into the room, much like Lambert had done earlier.

Geralt looks up at him from where he’s laid out shirtless on her bed, and Yennefer looks at Jaskier’s reflection in the mirror she’s facing.

“Well, hello to you too, Jaskier,” Yennefer greets at the same time Geralt says, “does he, now?”

“No,” he bellows, “no, none of that! No deflecting! I need to know if it’s true.”

Things were easier when he had not a single clue why they were acting the way they were, but now that does have a clue, Jaskier feels like he might burst into tears at any moment if he doesn’t get some level of confirmation.

Yennefer turns in her stool and simply stares at him for a moment. “After all the hints we’ve thrown at you it took Lambert telling you for you to come to that conclusion?” She almost looks offended by this.

“Well you,” Jaskier begins, pointing an accusatory finger at her, “are usually much more forthcoming about your feelings, and you,” he points the same finger at Geralt who raises his brows, “tend to run away from the very idea of feelings. So excuse me if it took me a while to realize that either of you wanted me!”

Now, Yennefer does look offended. So does Geralt.

“Don’t look at me like that. You two have been acting like lunatics these last few months and I had not a single clue what was going on and then I find out from Lambert, of all people, that you’re in love with me? What’s up with that?” Jaskier thinks he might look a little crazy. He certainly feels crazy.

“We didn’t want to scare you off.” It’s Geralt who says it and it makes Jaskier want to laugh. Decades of running after Geralt as he chased monsters and the witcher thinks that this, of all things, would be what finally did him in.

“I’m… not easy to be with,” Geralt continues, “and Yennefer is definitely not easy to be with.” The mage glares daggers at Geralt for the comment, so Jaskier keeps his agreement to himself.

“We’re… a lot. But we both wanted you and didn’t know if you wanted us in the same way,” he explains, “so, we decided to see whether or not you’d want either of us individually. If you wanted to be with one of us and only that one person, the other would just have to be okay with that.”

“Admittedly, we got a bit carried away,” Yennefer adds, not looking even slightly remorseful about it.

“A bit,” he mutters under his breath. The look they give tells him that they heard it anyway. “Why didn’t you guys just say something?”

“Because you prefer people using actions rather than words to express how they feel about you.”

Yennefer’s right, because of course she is. He hates that, it makes him frown.

“Could’ve still said something,” he accuses half-heartedly.

They both give him a flat look that screams really? and Jaskier deflates immediately.

He steps closer to the bed, skin heating up at the realization that their eyes have yet to leave him. “For the record, I am madly in love with you both. I have been for… well, an embarrassing number of years. I thought the endless number of ballads made that very clear.”

“No, Jaskier, they didn’t. Perhaps you should also take a lesson on being more forward about your feelings.” Yennefer suggests, judgment clear in her tone of voice despite it dripping honey.

He opens his mouth to speak, but whatever words were about to come out died immediately at the challenging tilt of her head.

“Yen…” Geralt says, “no intimidating him into submission.”

Yennefer gasps, bringing a hand to the center of her chest, “I’ve done no such thing.” She looks at Jaskier and smirks as she gives him a seemingly thoughtful once over, “not yet, anyway.”

Jaskier nearly falls to his knees right then and there. “So… where do we go from here?”

Yennefer and Geralt look at each other, then back at him.

“Well,” Yennefer says, “you can start by shutting the door.”

He does.

—

They fuck him like they’re still fighting over him.

There isn’t a single patch of skin on his body that’s left unappreciated under their touch. He’s kissed and licked and fucked within an inch of his life and it leaves him breathless and sobbing.

Then, when he feels like he can’t take it anymore, they work together to slowly take him apart before making him whole again.

Jaskier loses track of the number of times he cries out I love you that night.

—

Surprisingly enough, the first thing he notices when he wakes up the next morning aren’t the two witchers standing over the bed.

No, the first thing he notices is how fucking sore he is. It’s a good kind of sore though, so he doesn’t mind. Then, Jaskier notices how good Geralt’s hair smells as he nuzzles his face deeper into the man’s neck. Then, he takes notice of Yennefer’s arm still wrapped around his waist.

Then, he notices Lambert and Coën standing by the bed looking pleased by the scene before them.

Jaskier screams, and it wakes both Geralt and Yennefer.

“Well, well, well, it took you three long enough to get it together and get together,” Lambert says smugly to which Coën cackles.

“I’m going to kill you both,” Geralt hisses, and if they didn’t have an audience, Jaskier might have just gotten an erection from the sound of his morning voice. Truthfully, he might get one anyway.

And as if things couldn’t get any worse, Ciri comes waltzing into the room.

“I heard screaming, what happ… ened…” She trails off as she takes in the sight in front of her, and then she’s the one screaming, hurrying out of the room as she cries out Ew! Ew! Ew! over and over again.

Lambert and Coën do look like they feel slightly guilty after that, but it doesn’t stop Geralt from pouncing on them.

“Don’t you just love it when our boyfriend defends our honor?” Yennefer asks, snuggling in closer to him.

Jaskier does love it, but he loves the way our rolls off her tongue even more.

It’s a lovely reminder that he is theirs and they are his.

#the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #geraskefer #geraskier #yennskier #my writing

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highdramas · 3 years

Text

the world’s a little blurry | b.b.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: none

word count: 2107

summary: bucky is home, and he is yours

note: this is a one shot for now, but i definitely have more ideas for these two <3 this’ll be heavily inspired by tfatws so this is a spoiler warning for anything mentioned! also this is my first time writing bucky so pleaseeeeee give me some mercy lol

enjoy! <3

it’s nearly three in the morning, and you’re lucky if you stay up past midnight, so bucky makes a point to be quiet as he tiptoes into the apartment. after a mission gone awry in the apartment building where you had been neighbors, you’ve been staying with the superhero. something about not losing you and you’re safest here. bucky’s not stupid— caring about someone is a gamble, and it had become clear to his enemies who exactly it was that he cared about.

living with you came lots of things that bucky was not expecting. first off, you’re very cluttered. you call it controlled chaos, he calls it a mess. he’s fascinated by the state of your night stand, mostly. a dying plant and one loose airpod, two half empty water bottles, an empty starbucks cup.

second off, you have a cat. her name is katherine, but you call her kitty, occasionally kiki. and while bucky had been determined not to get attached, after awhile, it was difficult not to. she rubbed up on his legs, cuddled in his lap on the couch, slept on his chest in the middle of the night. she’s fucking adorable, and not even the winter soldier can deny that.

third off… you. you as a whole. he’s sure that it would’ve been a shock living with anyone, but the care that you give him… he’s not used to having someone making sure he’s eating. he’s not used to someone checking up on him throughout the day. he’s not used to having someone to come home to.

it’s nice.

it feels safe.

and he’ll kill anyone who tries to take this peace away from him.

bucky groans as he shucks his jacket off, feeling exactly where his muscles ache. he tries to keep his volume minimal. finally, he opens the door to the bedroom. the bedroom that you share.

this was the biggest adjustment of all.

he’d barely slept in a bed at all before you came along. too soft, too comfortable. he told you as much that first night, and what you had said shocked him.

“well, i’ll just sleep on the floor with you.”

no, oh, just get in bed. no, c’mon, it’s nice. none of those things. just understanding.

but it was more than understanding. it was meeting him exactly where he was.

that was three months ago, and you had kept your word. if you weren’t sleeping on the floor with him, you were on the couch with your hand tangling down, brushing along his hair, his shoulder. every time he felt you bucky swore that he could cry.

it was two months ago that he suggested you both sleep in the bed. and while it wasn’t every night, and some nights he padded out to the living room with a blanket and pillow… it was progress.

and he would wake up to find that you had joined him on the floor.

the nightmares weren’t gone. he’s not sure if they ever would be. but they were growing few and farer between, and the ones he did have were growing more manageable.

things were getting better.

of course, they were not perfect. and he knew that you didn’t expect them to be. he has therapy once a week, sometimes twice during the particularly hard weeks. he’s grown close with sam and his family. and… you.

his girl.

as the door creaks open, he almost chuckles at the sight of you. you’re laying horizontally across the bed, taking up both your side and bucky’s. katherine is curled in at your chest, her nose nearly touching yours. your mouth is open and he can see that there’s a bit of drool in the corner of your mouth, and that does make him laugh. it stirs you and he freezes.

bucky watches as you slowly wake, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and then rubbing the drool from your mouth. “ew,” you mumble, still half asleep, and bucky leans in the doorway wearing a smirk.

“go back to sleep, doll.”

you hum and stretch, and so does katherine, giving a wide yawn. “you’re home.”

home.

had he ever had a home before?

he did once, as a child. a time that feels so distant, so separate from the life that he leads now. sometimes, it’s hard to even picture the faces of his family members.

he had this apartment, but it never felt like home. not until you waltzed into it with your clutter and your laughter and your vibrancy. not until you cooked dinner hip to hip, not until you listened to music that he had never heard of, not until you watched some movie that was your favorite.

you’re home.

bucky smiles and he nods, sitting on the edge of the bed, pushing your hair back. “i’m home,” he says quietly. “i’m sorry i’m so late.”

you shake your head, your hand taking his. he still wears the gloves. you raise your eyebrows at him. “can i?”

he nods. you make quick work of removing each of his gloves, tossing them across the room, which makes bucky smile. he knows he’ll be picking those up in the morning. you press a kiss to his palm, the one that is flesh and bone. and then you take the other and do the same. “missed you, buck.”

something in his heart constricts as he watches you-- washed in moonlight that comes in through the window, sleepy smile on your face, eyes fixed on him. he knows that look, and he knows what it means. he doesn’t know if he deserves it, but he tries. he’ll always try for you.

“i wasn’t even gone twenty four hours,” the smirk is evident in his tone even if you can’t see it, but you scoff and roll your eyes. “i think you’re needy.”

“needy!” you repeat and laugh, falling back onto the pillow. kitty stirs and looks up at bucky, letting out a loud meow. “she’s the needy one. look at her.”

“both of you.” he scratches kitty’s head and then kisses the top of yours before he stands again. “i’m gonna shower.”

sleep is escaping you and you push yourself up onto your palms. “can i join you?”

he chews on the inside of his cheek and shrugs his shoulders innocently. “better pick up the pace then, soldier.”

with a laugh, you kick the sheets off of you. “yes sir.”

he rolls his eyes and you both shuffle into the bathroom. now, in the light, you’re able to get a good look at him. and your jaw drops slightly at what you see. “bucky,” you say and he already knows what’s coming. you touch the side of his face where a bruise is blossoming. “how the hell does this even happen?”

“part of the gig.”

you groan and he smiles and he does so because he loves you. he loves your mess and he loves your doting, he loves your cat and he loves coming home to see that you’ve taken up the entire bed. “you’re an old man. one of these days you’re gonna have to retire.”

“got unfinished business first.”

you know of his past. of course you do. although, you’re a firm believer that it’s not his past, rather than a past that was decided for him against his will. you’ve made a point of making your stance in that clear. you have heard stories of what bucky has done, but you have tutted and shaken your head. “what hydra did.”

these are the things that bucky tells himself, but it is different to hear it from someone else. someone who is not steve, or sam, or another avenger who has also committed morally grey acts. because, yes, they are all good and trustworthy and worth listening to-- but you. you are his girl. you are his girl who laughs at his jokes and teases him and never once babies him for what happened to him, but you’re also the girl who has woken him from nightmares, who has tended to his wounds, who has been held back from a fight just to defend his honor. you have seen him in his entirety, and you have never balked.

“alright, well--” it’s not lost on you how his eyes trail down your body as you undress, turning on the water and checking the temperature. “as soon of this business of yours is finished…”

“i know.”

the two of you share a look and he gives a crooked grin. “you look nice.”

“there’s dried drool on my face.”

“yeah, i know.”

it’s been nearly a year since you met james buchanan barnes and yet he still gets you to blush. he practically lights up at the sight of the color on your cheeks. “are you--”

“shut up and get in the shower,” you retort, pulling back the curtain and stepping into the steaming water.

“yes, ma’am.” you hear the shuffling of his clothes falling to the floor and then he is behind you, hands going up and down your arms. you let out a sigh and tilt your head back, peering up at him. water trails down his nose, dripping off and onto your forehead.

you don’t tell bucky, but you do worry. you worry every second that he’s gone on a mission. you know that you don’t have to say it, that he knows. and you trust that he will come home to you. bucky turns you and he holds your face in his hands and he presses his lips to yours and you know that he feels the same way.

i’ll always come back is spelled out in the way that he kissed you, the way that he holds the back of your head. we have forever is heaved from your lungs as he sucks the air from you.

when you part, you smile at his lips-- slightly swollen, pinker than normal. you rub your thumb along the bottom one and he catches your hand. he presses it on his chest, right where his heart hides beneath skin and bone. “you don’t have to do all of this to make up for what they did to you,” you say over the sound of water. “you’re allowed to have a normal life, if you want it.”

“i know.” he pushes a piece of wet hair from your face. “i just don’t--” he shakes his head and you know this all too well-- he doesn’t quite know what to say, he starts closing up and off and away, the high walls that guard his heart and mind beginning to take shape. “i feel like if i don’t… what was it all for?”

delicate hands move across his torso. you lather up a loofah and begin washing away blood and grime. “bucky,” you say and he looks at you, steely blue eyes staring right into yours. “you make people happy. you have people who love you, who care for you. you don’t owe the world reparations.”

he winces as you go over a particular bruise and you slow your movements, make them featherlight. “all i know is,” you begin. “whatever it is you want, whatever it is that fulfills your life… make sure it’s for you.”

a smile curls on his face and he stills your hands. “thank you.” he takes the loofah from you. “let me get you.”

“but i’m not done--”

“please. let me.”

you surrender and he begins to wash you, and your forehead falls to his shoulder, calm washing over your body. you could’ve been standing there for minutes or hours, you’re unsure. he pushes your hair back and at some point you realize that he is washing your hair, and you press gently open mouthed kisses against his chest and you hear his breath catch and you fall in love with him all over again.

“let me get yours--” you mumble around a yawn and you watch as he smirks down at you. “really, let me.”

bucky shakes his head and he turns the water off. “tomorrow,” he says.

you towel off and when you clamber into bed, you feel the weight of him beside you, your cat nestled between the both of you. you feel him pull you into him, his breath against your neck and his lips against your pulse point, and your eyes flutter shut. before sleep captures you, you murmur, “i love you, james bucky barnes.”

the feeling of his smile against your skin is imprinted on your heart, and his words coax you into sleep-- “i love you too, doll.”

bucky barnes sleeps through the night and doesn’t wake once.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #my writing #the world's a little blurry #eeeee i'm so excited to post thissssss

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finelinevogue · 3 years

Note

Can you do something where Y/N is sick and Harry has to take care of her please?

i actually had written something similar to this before so i present you a lengthy blurb;

You were pretty sure if you got invited in to hell it would feel something like this.

Hot. Sticky. But chilled.

You had come down with a concerningly high temperature. Along with the added luxuries of a deafening headache, cold sweats and an upset tummy. Your body was burning all over, as if it had just been freshly cooked in the oven but you felt colder than ice. It was a confusing juxtaposition, but there it was.

You'd called Harry, since he was in the studio recording his new music and asked him to come home early. You didn't even get to the reasoning of why he should come home before he hung up, telling you he was already vacating the premises. You hated to be that needy girlfriend who had to call about nearly everything, but Harry loved it more than anything. He loved the fact that you needed him. It gave him purpose, apparently .

You couldn't work out whether you regretted asking him to come home, or whether it was a blessing. It was a very fine line.

It was a blessing because, he looked after you like a mother would her child and made sure he stood by your side any time you found yourself lurched over a toilet. He made you chicken soup from scratch and even tested it to make sure it wasn't too hot, or salty - despite being a vegetarian himself. He even made you honey and lemon tea, which he had to run to the store for the honey. When you say run, you mean run. He didn't want to leave you alone at all, so he put on his running shoes and sprinted to the shop and back. However, it was a slight regret because of how fussy he was over you. He loved it to bits - nursing to your every need.

You truly believed you didn't deserve Harry. He was just too kind and pure for his own good. You were unarguably lucky. Laying on what felt like your death bed, didn't feel so lucky though.

It was now 10 pm and you could hear Harry turning on the alarm for downstairs, the loud beeping noise preventing you from sleep. That's all you'd done all day. Sleep. You thought it'd be more magical than it was. It was just uncomfortable though, because of how cold and hot you were.

Your much better looking other half trudged through the bedroom door within a minute of the alarm going off. He was only wearing checkered pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt and yet he made it look like Gucci Runway 2021.

The jingling of keys signalled Charlie was also present. Charlie was your 2 year old Golden Retriever. He was beautiful. When you and Harry has moved in together 2 years ago you'd managed to persuade him to get a dog. Within a few weeks of moving in you had a 5 month old puppy running around your house. He was your best friend, no doubt about it. He was also ridiculously photogenic.

"Hey Chaz!" You cooed as Charlie walked over to your side of the bed, where you were snuggling down under the sheets. You reached out your hand to give him some loving and attention. You could tell by the small smile and sparkling eyes that he was one happy boy.

"Alright, buddy. Let's leave mum alone." Harry came behind Charlie to manoeuvre him into his bed, which was in the corner of the room. It was more like a big cushion. He started to whine after being forced to leave you - having not seeing you all day. Harry was strict in keeping him downstairs so not to disturb you whilst you were sleeping.

"H it's alright, let him on the bed. He can curl up on my feet." You sympathised with Charlie, as you always did, hating to hear or see him upset. Harry was like the 'bad-cop' when it came to parenting Charlie, because you were too sweet to say no to him.

"You're one spoilt boy, aren’t you?" Harry messed around with Charlie, before telling him he could get up on the bed to see you. Charlie leapt on the bed and wandered over to give you all the kisses he could, before Harry came to calm him down - as you really didn't have the strength.

"I missed you too, Chaz." You quietly laughed, not wanting to set your headache off even more.

"You gonna let me kiss mum now?" Harry rhetorically asked, but as he came over to you Charlie laid down on you so your face was buried underneath his body. You could feel him panting with his adorable tongue out above you, as he hid you from Harry.

"Someone's jealous."

"Feeling like a bloody third wheel over here." Harry tutted and you laughed until you got hot with the movement.

"Harry? Can you move him please?" You whined as you tried to shuffle around.

"Okay Chaz. Let's let mum get some sleep, alright?" Charlie is slowly removed from you and ends up curled on top of your feet, keeping them warm for you.

Harry slipped into the covers and shuffled his way over to you, putting the back of his hand over your forehead and hissing quietly at the simple touch.

"Baby you're so hot." Harry complained.

"I know." You teased with a wink at him, taking his worry out of context and turning it into a flirting compliment.

"Oh piss off!" He chuckled and wrapped an arm around your waist to bring you closer. "What am I going to do with you, baby?" Harry then planted only a few delicate kisses to your lips - not wanting to overwork you and your tired body.

••••

You woke up with drowsy eyes to find you're in bed alone.

Your throat was incredibly dry and your whole body was sticky from sweat. Your pyjamas were damp and your face looked like it'd just been drowned in a rainstorm. It was disgusting. Still, you brought the duvet up to cover yourself more, as you let out a dramatic shiver. Why was it so cold?

Mixed into the background noise you could hear the cheering of crowds and it really confused you, until you looked at the wall and noticed the football was playing on re-run on the TV. Manchester United Vs Manchester City. You hated that you knew that just from their football uniforms, but that's what you get for living with a football-crazed boyfriend.

You noticed Harry emerge from the bathroom, a washing up bowl in his arms. He came and sat down in bed, the bucket of water to his side. "What are you doing?" You quietly asked, peering up at him through tired eyes.

"Oi, you're meant to be sleep y’minx." Harry told you off.

"I can't. I'm too uncomfortable. I'm hot, but i'm cold. I also find it hard to sleep without you next to me." You huffed out in annoyance.

"My poorly baby." He leant down to kiss your forehead, "c’mere, baby." He urged.

He helped you move, seeing as your body was really weak, so you could lay down against Harry’s body. He was sat up against the headboard as you nestled down between his legs, your back to his front. It was a lot more comfortable than before - probably because Harry was closer to you. Charlie noticed the disturbance and waited for you to stop moving around, before maintaining the job of guarding your feet.

Once he was happy in his position he fell asleep again, making you jealous of his ability to do that. Especially now.

"Why's the football on?" You asked, motioning towards the TV.

"Had to keep myself awake somehow." He explained, but it only made you more confused.

"Why?"

"So I can take care of you, y’muppet." His words actually melted your heart - more than chocolate could melt on your forehead right now.

After you'd settled, Harry reached into the bucket and drained out a cloth. He made sure all the excess water was cleared before moving it away from the bucket. You hummed in appreciation when he placed it against your forehead, rotating it to the back of your neck also in order to relax and cool you. It made you realise just how hot you were.

"I think i'm dying, Harry." You groaned as the nausea came over you again. Harry kept a firm hold of the cloth on your forehead, dabbing gently and careful to not let any water drip down into your eyes.

"No you're not, baby." Harry gave you a light-hearted laugh.

"Well, living shouldn't feel as shitty as this H." You grumbled, not appreciating his lack of understanding.

“Then just let me take you to the chuffing hospital!" He exclaimed, making Charlie stir slightly.

Harry had been demanding you go to the hospital all day and all evening, but you were too stubborn to go. That, and you were terrified of hospitals - more terrified of needles and blood than anything else. However, you were starting to reach the point where you were giving in to his request, though. It was becoming unbearable to sleep and harder to breathe. You were worried for yourself.

"I don't like it." You pouted like a child, as Harry wrung the cloth through the fresh water again.

"I don't care whether you like it or not, Y/N, I really think we should go. More like need." Harry insisted and you could tell he wasn’t giving up without a fight. You didn’t want that either.

You hated how he was right.

It was only going to get worse from here, and you didn't really want to be alive when that was going you happen, so going to the hospital to get checked over and drugged up seemed like the best option to go for. The more sensible option.

"Fine." You finally accepted, Harry slinking his arms tight around your waist after discarding the cloth in to the bucket. He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck and planted an abundance of kisses there, your skin burning just to the touch.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." He repeated in-between kisses.

•••••

It took 20 minutes to get in to the car. 20 minutes.

All because Charlie was reluctant to letting you get up and go. So Harry had to dress you into a more appropriate attire, with a dog sat on your lower body. It was then half an hour later that you were in the hospital.

The hospital was quiet at this time of night and for that you were grateful. It was obviously a night where little numbers of people were doing silly things to get themselves hurt. There was the odd patient for a minor cut injury and there were a couple of people in for burns. There was even a woman in because she accidentally superglued her hand to a bottle of superglue - ironic, but painful.

You sat patiently on Harrys lap, waiting for someone to escort you to a cubicle. You were freezing cold, to the point where your teeth were chattering - your outside body was giving off the opposite temperature. You tried to get as close to Harry's warmth as possible, pushing your body against his.

"You're alright baby." Harry shushed you, as you let out a small tremble.

"If I do die—"

"Which you won't." Harry chuckled.

"I know, but if I did I want you to know that I love you." You told him. Even though he's heard you say it a million times before, it still made his heart flutter as you spoke each word.

"I love you, baby." He kissed the side of your head. "But you're going to be just fine, so no more talking about you dying okay?"

"Why? It's only a natural thing." You pointed out.

"Sure, but I don't want to think of a world without my girl living in it. So zip it before I make you."

You never thought of dying as a world without Harry before now and it wasn't the time to start thinking about it either. It was a horrible thought and you understood why Harry didn't want you speak about it. That world would be so dark and empty and you hated thinking about it.

Harry was called to the front desk to fill in some forms for you, since your hands were too cold and shaky to do it for yourself. He accidentally wrote 'Styles' as your second name, before realising his mistake and scribbling it out.

“Shit.” Harry went red in the face and chuckled over his silly mistake. His hand was shaky and you smiled at how he got so flustered over something so simple. You rested your hand on top of his, bringing his attention to you.

“One day.” You told him and he leaned to give you a kiss on the lips. You couldn’t help but feel like his lips were a future promise to make sure he wouldn’t have to scribble out his second name the next time it was written next to yours.

The doctor saw you shortly afterwards and you thanked your lucky stars that there was no injections or removal of any blood involved, Harry sticking with you the whole time. Turns out you were suffering from a moderate fever, but the doctor said with good rest it should pass. The doctor had given Harry permission to make a big fuss over you - explaining how he was going to love it and you were going to hate it - and to make sure to come back with even the slightest worsen of the fever. You got given a prescription list of various medications that you'd need to take over the next week or so. After collecting the drugs, you were back in the car on the way home.

"Told you you weren't going to die." Harry smiled, happy to have you still by his side, whilst holding your hand over the gear console.

"Unfortunate for you, I guess."

"Will you shut you, y’bloody nuisance. You know I can't do life without you, Y/N." He spoke softly, squeezing your hand tighter to assure you that he's going nowhere.

"Same here." You smile at him and he smirks back at you with his dimple-loving smile.

"You’ll always be it for me, baby." Harry speaks, before you drift back off to sleep.

Happily.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #finelinevogue #finelinevogue harry styles #harry blurb #harry oneshot #harry styles concept #ask finelinevogue #ask harry styles #finelinevogue blurbs #finelinevogue masterlist #harry styles fluff #harry styles end of the day #harry styles x ill reader #harry styles x sick reader #harry styles x you

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asciendo · 3 years

Text

Your Eyes Tell

You break up with Zuko when Ozai threatens his life if you continue with your relationship. But when you find out Ozai sends an assassin to kill him when he leaves to join team Avatar, you leave the Fire Nation to save him despite knowing how much you hurt him.

It's been two months since you broke up with Zuko and now he's gone.

You heard from your father that Zuko switched sides and joined the Avatar. You tried to hide your concern at the dinner table as your father broke the news to your family. Your mother gave you a worried look as she always had suspicions about your relationship with the Prince.

"Ozai is furious. I don't think he's going to give Zuko another chance after this." Your father stated as you continued to fiddle with your hands. "That's his son. I don't think...do you think he'd go that far?" Your mother questioned. "I don't know...you saw what he did to Zuko after he questioned him..." Your father sighed. You tried to remain calm but you felt like your heart was beating out of your chest.

Your father was a high ranking general and was a close confidant of Ozai. Although, lately you could tell he's been questioning Ozai's methods after seeing the destruction and death he's been laying upon the other nations. Your father was loyal to the Fire Nation would do anything to protect its people, but you'd overhear him and your mother talking about how he was worried about Ozai's methods.

"He's sending an assassin after Zuko." Your gaze shot up, "WHAT?!" You blurted out. "A-are you sure?" Your mother asked and your dad nodded. "He's sending the combustion mad." You froze. He was known to be one of the most ruthless assassins in the Fire Nation. He was known to master a rare style of fire bending that allows him to trigger explosions from a tattoo on his forehead. "I'm not feeling well...can I go to my room?" You asked and your father nodded leaving your mother with a concerned look in her eyes as you left.

As soon as you entered your room you fell to the floor and cried. You hated this. You hated yourself for breaking up with Zuko but you had no choice.

It was two months ago and you were walking around the palace. Thanks to your father's close relationship with the Fire Lord, you spent your whole life within the palace walls. You grew up with Azula and Zuko and your families were close as well. It wasn't until Zuko returned from his banishment that the both of you began your relationship but decided to keep it a secret as he still had a lot to prove to his father. Zuko wanted to prove he was focused and determined and if Ozai found out he was seeing you, Zuko would be right back where he started before leaving to capture the Avatar.

Unfortunately, your fears came true and Ozai discovered your secret relationship. You were on your way home after sneaking into Zuko's room and as you made your way to the throne room until you heard voices. You recognized one to be Ozai's and the other Azula's.

"Your brother appears to be distracted these days." Ozai's voice boomed throughout the room. " Well it's because he's with his little girlfriend most of the time." Azula replied

"Girlfriend?!" Ozai fires back and you gulp. "Yes, your favorite general's daughter." There was a hint of disgust in Azula's voice which made your blood boil. Despite being "friends" with Azula, it was obvious she looked down on you along with Mai and Tai Lee.

"First, Zuko questions me, now he's frolicking with that girl instead of focusing on his duties as Fire Prince." Ozai growls and you heard his footsteps walk back and forth as he paced around his throne. "He has to be taught a lesson that boy."

"I couldn't agree more, father." You could almost see the smirk on Azula's face at the tone of her voice. "I wonder...does Zuko really need his other eye?" Your heart dropped. His father was about to punish Zuko again...because of you. Your memory shot back to the moment Ozai burned Zuko's face in their Agni Kai. You remember burying your face in your hands while trying to shut out Zuko's screams. .

"Bring him here." Ozai commanded. You don't know what came over you, but you found yourself running into the throne room.

Azula and Ozai both stared at you and Azula chuckled. "Don't hurt him." You were surprised at your own voice coming out. "And why shouldn't I? He's being careless and has to be taught a lesson."

"I'll end it." Your voice shook as you were being stared down by the two of them. "Would that even do anything?" Azula rolled her eyes as she lazily observed her fingers.

"It will. You'll see...it was my idea to start a relationship. Not his. If you're going to punish someone...punish me." Azula raised an eyebrow at your suggestion and looked towards Ozai who began to think.

"Not necessary." Ozai stated and Azula frowned. "Your father is an important ally of mine, wouldn't want to upset him."

The room fell silent as the three of you stared at one another. "I suppose...if you end your relationship with my son...that will do for now." Your shoulders dropped in relief.

"But, I don't care if you're together or not, if he upsets me in any way again I won't hold back." Ozai turned his back and left the room. Azula smirked at you and followed him out.

You were lying in bed that night and couldn't sleep. Your mind was racing with thoughts of Zuko and how you were going to end it. You heard the window open and the sound of familiar footsteps making its way to your bed.

Before Zuko could slip in next to you, you immediately turned away from him.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he chuckled but you refused to answer.

"I don't need you anymore." You spat out and he stammered back. "What do you mean you don't need me anymore?!"

You buried your head in your covers, trying not to look at him. "I mean, I don't need you anymore, Zuko. I'm done."

"Done?! W-what do you mean done—did something happen?" you heard his footsteps come over to your side of the bed and you huffed.

He lifted the covers over your face and you had no choice but to look at him.

Zuko's eyes were a mixture of sadness and confusion and you chocked out a sob. He slowly brought his hands to your face, but you swatted it. Knowing exactly what to say to get him to leave, to leave you for good. "I can't be with a coward." Zuko stumbled back after this. You knew about his never-ending torment about betraying Iroh out of fear of his father. How he barely slept every night thinking about his uncle sitting in his cell, about how he was scared to do the right thing because he would lose his honor in his family again. "W-what?" Zuko was farther from you now, sad eyes staring into your like daggers. You were fighting the urge to break right there, tell him everything you knew about his father's warning, but you had to protect him. "You left Iroh to rot in a cell. You can't even stand up against your father and you're a disgrace to the Fire Nation. What kind of future is that?" You said coldly, biting your tongue to fight back the tears that were fighting to come out. "

"Do you really mean it?" His voice broke and you were dying to apologize to him, to tell him you thought he was so much more than what he thought of himself, that he was one of the few genuinely good people here, but you had to do this to protect him.

"Yes. I hate you, Zuko...I didn't realize it till now but...I'm embarrassed of you. Being with you...makes me hate myself too." You stated, face blank. Zuko's face dropped. You've never seen him like this, so empty, like he lost all the hope he had in the world. You wanted to reach out to him, you did...but he was gone before you could.

You'd see him in State events but never spoke, and the one time he had to greet you out of courtesy it was like he was talking to a stranger.

Now, here you are somewhere in the forest, looking for him. You heard from one of the guards who was loyal to you that combustion man was able to track Team Avatar near the mountains next to the refugee camps. He told you that he got his scent and was close by.

You heard voices and crouched by the bush. You saw a figure by the river and crawled closer to see who it was. It was a girl, probably your age dressed in blue who was doing laundry. This must be the water bender you thought. Mai and Ty Lee would tell you stories about their time chasing the Avatar and reuniting with Zuko.

Deciding to confront her and ask where Zuko was you began to walk towards her. Her shoulders tensed at the sound of footsteps behind. The girl whipped her head around and her eyes grew wide. Before you could speak, she was shooting water in your direction. "HEY!" You dodged, but she kept going. Grunting in frustration, you began shooting fire back at her.

You were fighting for a while now until suddenly, a boomerang was flying next to your head which caused you to duck.

There was a boy in blue running towards you with a smaller girl in green running next to him.

The girl stomped her foot on the ground and rocks in the shape of bars began to form around you but you were able to roll out of the way. The water bender was about to attack once more but then you heard your name being called behind you.

"Y/N?" You froze and your heart dropped. You haven't heard Zuko's voice in so long and you swore you almost crumbled right there. Slowly, you turned around and faced him for the first time in months. "W-what are you doing here?" he asked, and you couldn't answer. The Avatar arrived and the whole group was staring at you.

You couldn't speak. You didn't know what to say to him and time just stopped. Your eyes never left Zuko and he was staring right back at you.

"Who is she?!" The water bender asked as you and Zuko continued to look at each other.

"Y/N." Was all Zuko said which caused everyone to look at one another in confusion except the guy with the boomerang. "Oh...is she the one you were telling me about?" Zuko blushed in embarrassment but walked towards you.

"I'm sorry, I'm lost...who is she?" The Avatar asked.

"Zuko's ex-girlfriend." Boomerang guy attempted to whisper but failed as everyone heard him. The water bender stared at you curiously while the earth bender huffed and stuck up her nose.

"What are you doing here, Y/N?" Zuko was in front of you now and your heartbeat was rising. You missed him. All you wanted was to kiss him right then and there, but you knew whatever you two had was over. Before you could reply, you saw a figure suddenly appear behind Zuko. The rest of the team was too busy waiting what would happen that they didn't notice combustion man's arrival.

Combustion man's eyes turned red and he smirked, the eye in the middle of his head started to glow and you knew he was about to attack.

"LOOK OUT!" You shouted and shoved Zuko to the side before Combustion man could strike.

The rest of the group were on the floor from the explosion except the Avatar who was on a tree.

"WHO IS THAT?!" Boomerang guy yelled above the explosion.

Looking down, you realized you fell on top of Zuko. Your eyes met his and you noticed his expression change to somewhat of realization. He looked like he was putting the pieces of a puzzle together while looking at you and he was frozen. Combustion Man tried to attack Zuko again but you pulled him away.

"WHAT IS HAPPENING?!" Boomerang guy yelled once more. Spotting the boomerang attached to his waist, you created a plan.

"AVATAR!" You yelled and he looked down at you from the tree. "Distract him!" He looked at you with confusion. You realized they didn't trust you yet, still being in your Fire Nation clothes, they still weren't sure what side you were on. "Come on! Do it!" You yelled and he nodded.

"BOOMERANG GUY!" You shouted once more and he looked at you in fear. "When the Avatar has him distracted, throw your boomerang at the eye on his forehead, it will block his chi."

"Why should I listen to you?! You were just attacking my sister!" he yelled back. "GOSH SOKKA JUST DO IT! THIS IS NOT THE TIME!" The earth bender yelled and Sokka jumped back in shock. "ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT!"

The Avatar shot an air ball at Combustion Man which caused him to stumble. While he was caught off guard, Sokka threw his boomerang hitting him directly on the eye.

Combustion Man grunted in pain but suddenly lost control and shot an explosion to the nearby mountain. Suddenly the rocks began to shake and immediately rolled down the mountain and crushed him.

The whole group sighed but Zuko was still looking at you. Suddenly, you felt rock squeeze around your wrists. Looking down, your wrists were bound in handcuffs made of rocks.

"Seriously?! I just saved your lives!" You yelled but the group continued to stare at you. "Yeah, but you were attacking Katara when we got here." The earth bender stated.

"SHE ATTACKED ME FIRST!" But they weren't having it. You looked at Zuko and his expression changed. He looked deep in thought as he stared back at you.

"Come on...just let me go and I'll be out of here." You whispered still looking at him. "We still don't know why you're here. You could be a spy." You rolled your eyes at the small girl.

"If I as a spy I would have let you all be killed by Combustion Man." You stated.

"That makes sense..." Katara nodded slowly but earth bender was still not having it.

"Still. It's risky to let you go, you're coming with us." She announced and began to walk away. Sokka grabbed your elbow and began to lead you behind her.

Zuko wasn't moving for a moment, watching the scene unfold like it was a movie. "Zuko...are you coming?" The Avatar asked. Zuko nodded slowly began to follow.

The earth bender, who you learned was called Toph made you a makeshift cell in their campsite. Rolling your eyes as you watched them enter their tents to go to bed, you sunk down and sat on the ground.

You started to drift off to sleep until you heard the door of your cell open. Slowly opening your eyes, you look up to see Zuko.

Your lips part in surprise as you slowly stand up to stare at him.

"What do you want?" You finally gained the courage to speak to him.

The Zuko in front of you is a different one than the one you left. The broken Zuko. The Zuko you hurt. Now, all you see are his golden eyes pouring into yours, mixed with anger and determination.

"Why are you here?" he asked, his tone was serious.

"Your friends put me in here! I don't wanna stay in this dumb cell—"

"No. Why are you here?!" He almost yelled at you, but he kept his voice low enough so he wouldn't wake the others.

"I don't know what you mean—"

"Bull Shit." Zuko interrupted but moved closer to you. "I don't know what you want me to say—"

"Do you still hate me?" His question caught you off guard. Unlike last time, there was no sadness in his voice, now, it felt like he was challenging you.

"Zuko—"

"Did you come here to protect me? I know you knew about Combustion Man." You looked away, refusing to meet his eyes. You didn't know why you were being so difficult. It wasn't like Ozai or Azula were here. But you felt immense guilt for what you said to him, you didn't deserve him.

"When you broke up with me...there was something else right? You were just saying all of those things to protect me?!" Zuko was angry. He had every right to be, for you to just show up here, and not even telling him the real reason why you came.

"I'm not stupid, alright? I know combustion man is an assassin under my father! I know he was here to kill me...and after everything, you show up out of nowhere...I know you were here for me!" He was yelling now but you refused to budge.

"You made me think all this time you hated me! I thought the person I loved the most in this world hated me! For months I couldn't get you out of my head and it was torture seeing you around the palace looking like you didn't care! And you won't even tell me the real reason why you're here?" You looked at him in shock but still refused to speak and he shouted in frustration.

"Y/N...tell me right now why you're here—"

"Yes. I still hate you." Was all you said. You didn't though. You loved him. You were so proud of him for finally standing up to his father and carving his own destiny, but you didn't want to cause him anymore pain. You wanted him to continue being the man he was meant to be...even without you. You felt like you would bring him down, that you didn't deserve Zuko. You wanted to leave, to finally leave him, for good.

"No you don't." His voice was hard and his eyes didn't leave yours. "Zuko, what do you want from me?" You asked and he sighed.

"Do you really hate me?" He asked once more but he took a step closer to you and you backed away.

"YES! God, Zuko I don't know how many times I have to tell you! I hate—"

Before you could finish, Zuko's lips were on yours. Your eyes widened in surprise but as soon as his arms snaked around your waist, you melted around him.

You missed this. The feeling of his lips on yours. His touch. The way he clung to you like his life depended on it.

"No you don't." Was all he said when he pulled away. You were out of breath, and you looked up at him. The hard expression he had was replaced with tender eyes and you felt tears forming.

"H-how'd you know?" Your voice cracked as Zuko began to gently wipe the tears on your face.

"Your eyes tell." Was all he said and before you could speak, his lips were on yours again.

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kimetsu-no-imagines · 3 years

Text

submission request

its ur bf write me rengoku porn rn before i kiss you in electrical- u know what i want 😩 ——————————————————————————- a/n : !!!!!! anything for u babe!!!!! a request from my bf,,,,,,,how special,,,,especially when haven’t written on here in forever,,,,,, warnings ; mugen train spoilers!!!!!!!!!! s o m a n y!!!!!! mentions of rengoku/akaza fight, alternate universe where rengoku lives it’s what we all want anyway, pre-established relationship/rengoku is your husband, breeding/pregnancy kink, rengoku living and dying (figuratively) between your legs, “dirty” talk but rengoku is such a loving man i don’t think it should even be called that here, uhhhh body worship but with his eyes? its very vague but it is there, boy just loves you okay, also none of this is proof read or anything if that matters word count ; 2,728

I’m Home

When you first hear about it, of course, like his fellow pillars, you’re terrified-thankful, naturally, that your husband at least hasn’t died, but the crow sent to inform you of the events of his mission, of his injuries, doesn’t exactly try to sugar coat anything, not even for you, his spouse.

Skull fractures from dodging the punch that would have smashed his eye completely, broken ribs from dodging yet another hit that, if he hadn’t moved back fast enough, would have gone through him and killed him-the details were gruesome, they were bone-chilling, it wasn’t as if you or anyone particularly enjoyed hearing about it, but one thing was for certain-you were relieved not to have lost him to this, to have lost anyone. Tanjiro and the others were so strong, so hard-working, and they were so young, with so much to live for-you couldn’t imagine how you’d feel if anything had happened to them, either.

There’s so much about it that pains you-not being able to have your husband home with you after he’d already been so busy with this mission and the ones before it, knowing how injured he was and how long it’d take him to recover at the Butterfly Estate, it was all… Torture. Not that you couldn’t go see him, of course-but Shinobu urged you to stay home and relax, you wouldn’t want to see him in the state that he was in, she promised you that much. Her crow did come by to personally update you on his condition every day or so, though-that was at least some amount of relief.

… Or, it would have been. You hadn’t seen any crow come by in a week or so, to the day-and yes, you kept track, because of course you did, you were an anxious wreck, and it’d already been months of your husband steadily recovering, or so you thought. Had he died from his injuries? Did something happen to the estate, were more people hurt? … Well. You supposed that was a silly thought, she lived so close to the Master’s own residence-no demon could get close enough to hurt them, with all the wisteria around both places.

You were so used to having your husband around to calm you when you thought about the worst things, like this-your heart hurt with anxiety and worry. What could you do but stand outside by the door, every day, for hours, just waiting for some sign, of a crow, of Shinobu herself, of anything?

It was another day that had gone by just like that-your feet and legs ached from keeping yourself up for so long, dried tear trails staining the sides of your face-you knew it was silly of you, you knew you should have tried to be at least a little stronger, for him if no one else, but… You just couldn’t help it. You hated this. You just wanted your husband back.

A dejected sigh leaves you as you watch the sun set for just one more moment before turning to go back inside, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes again-maybe tomorrow you’ll go up to Shinobu’s estate yourself. You couldn’t stand this for another–

“Hahaha! Now isn’t this strange! You’re running away from me!”

Your heart stops, and you freeze in place. What?

You feel him before you can turn to see him-chest pressed against your back, though soon you’re spun around and pulled up into a crushing hug anyway, and it’s all you can do to immediately start sobbing into your husband’s brightly-colored hair as you’re held.

“… Hello, my sweet,” His voice is no longer booming and jovial like it was a moment ago, but soft, gentle and meant only for you, as he squeezes you to him-you want to worry about the injuries he was supposed to be recovering from still, but you don’t want this to end, either. You suppose, he must have just been coming around the corner and through the gate when you turned to go inside-not that it mattered, all that did matter was that he was… Here, holding you.

“You must have missed me terribly!” All hearty, he laughs with you again, even if all you can do is cry in his arms while he rubs soothingly at your back, “But of course I missed you terribly too! I tried many times to sneak out and come home to you, but Shinobu or one of the other girls always caught me-”

You missed his voice dearly, you did-and you were still crying, but you couldn’t help but lean up and kiss him. It was something you usually did to quiet him, for sure, but right now you just… Needed him. And he didn’t seem to mind, hands happily and readily sliding down to hoist you up into his arms, never breaking from you as he carried you into your home.

“… Such a beautiful shouldn’t have quite so many tears upon it, you know,”He mumbles gently against your lips, and you sniffle as you finally reach up to start wiping at them, “I-I just missed you so much, Kyojuro, I was so scared-you were almost-you could have-”

“But I didn’t, and I won’t.” He interrupts you sweetly, but firmly nonetheless, shaking his head at you, “I am fine. I am healed, my love. I am still here to fulfill my duties-and I always will be. That includes my duties to you as your husband.”

“I…” It doesn’t feel like you should believe it-after what you’d heard of his battle, knowing he’d even just encountered an Upper Moon demon, this felt too good to be real or true, and yet… There’s such certainty and finality blazing in his eyes as he stares at you, all you can do is nod.

“… Alright.”

———————————————–

… Really, all you had intended to do this evening, now that you had your husband home with you, was cook him his favorite meal and go to sleep with him, in his arms, for the first time in who knew how long, at this point. Truthfully, that had been your only goal. You wanted him to rest, no matter how many times he told you just how fully recovered he was through the mouthfuls of sweet potato you so lovingly prepared for him-and yet… And yet…

Well, you suppose you simply didn’t account for him wanting… Dessert.

“It’s been so long,” The words are mumbled around you, your flesh, as he greedily, really voraciously eats and licks you up from between your legs-you’d already known him to be feral when presented with the sweet treat only you could provide him with, but this was something else entirely, “-it’s been too long, my love, don’t you understand how very hungry I am?”

You don’t, but by no means are you going to let that stop either of you. You missed his mouth just as much as he missed your taste.

“K-Kyojuro-Kyojuro, I’m-Kyo–”

… He’s never been one to tease or deny you. And yet just as you’re about to cum, so close to the edge you could have tasted it yourself, he’s pulling away from you. His lips and chin and… Well, his face, in general, are so shiny with you-you easily forget your frustration and get lost in the blissful look in his eyes as he cleans himself with his tongue. “While you certainly are the most delicious thing in this world, my sweet,” He crawls up the length of your body so quickly, so desperate to smash his lips to your own, “-as I’ve told you, it’s been far too long. I want to feel you cum around my cock this evening. But I’m sure you have no complaint either way?” Any other day, you’d want to hit him, to get that cheeky look off of his face, but… You also can’t say you don’t want that. Maybe you really don’t have any complaints either way. “… You’re awful,” You huff up at him, but you nod, “… But alright.” … And yet he stays still. It would be so easy-you’re properly soaked, and the pair of you are completely naked, and yet your infuriating husband is just… Sitting there, hovering over you with a smile on his face. It’s a soft, loving smile-but you’ve known him so long, you don’t miss the mischief in his eyes. “… Can I not admire you, my beautiful spouse? Even for a moment, after I’ve been gone from you for so very long?” It’s not a crime for him to stare at you so adoringly-really, you’d love it if you weren’t as damn horny as you were. But... It has been a long time. He’s teasing, but as much as that’s true, you know he’s being earnest, too-his eyes flicker all over your form so carefully, meticulously re-memorizing every tiny detail about you. “... Even more beautiful then before I left you, dear one,” The way he murmurs it, so absently, it’s almost more like he’s saying it to himself, but his eyes raised to bore back into yours after a minute-clearly, he wants you to hear every word of what he’s saying, absent or not. “... Would you like to know something I thought about while I was away?” His love renders you breathless, speechless-it’s all you can do to nod up at him. “During the brief hours of respite I would get, I would think to myself... What would it be like to come back to you, our home... How would it feel, the joy of it all... And then, another thought had started to occur to me,” A sharp gasp tears through you as you feel a few fingers suddenly and swiftly beginning their work at stretching you out-sneaky man, he’d distracted you from his hands with his voice, and even then, he kept talking like he hadn’t done anything, “... What would it be like if I could come home to the sight of you all swollen and glowing with our child...?” Those words rob you of whatever meager amount of breath you had managed to regain. With your child...? “... Oh, my love, you squeezed my fingers so nicely just now,” He marvels at the sight, the feeling of you, worrying his lip between his teeth-you’re so pretty like this, is what he wants to say, but his mind is suddenly consumed by the thought he’d put into both your heads a moment ago. You, glowing with the product of your love in your stomach. You don’t fail to notice the twitching of his cock where it hangs all hard between his legs. “Do you like the sound of that, then...? Do you want to carry my children, our children, my dear one? I’ll give it to you if you just say the word-after all, what poor excuse of a husband would I be if I didn’t?” His fingers move in and out of you faster, frantic and eager to prepare you for him, now, as he almost rambles on like that-his words set your body, your insides, on fire. You do want it, you realize-it’s not something you’d given much thought to before, but here, like this, right now after spending so much time worrying about losing him? You really do want nothing more. “P-p-please, please Kyojuro, I want-please give me your children, I want it, I want you, please make me pregnant, my husband, please-” It’s not meant to egg him on, truly it isn’t-you just can’t help but beg with how badly you want it yourself. But that doesn’t mean you don’t delight in the way he seems to snap, just the slightest bit, above you, quickly removing his fingers from you to replace them with his cock-what you’d been waiting for since he laid you down in bed earlier. That felt like an eternity ago right now, though. The stretch isn’t an uncomfortable one, with the care he’d still taken to prepare you-you missed it, if anything, you missed him. And it’s clear that he feels the same-he’s gone so tense above you, arms trembling on either side of you with the restraint it takes not to move. Somehow, he still manages to keep up that bright smile of his, too. “Do tell me when I can move, my love. This is a bit unbearable with how lovely you feel!” ... As hazy as your mind was with pleasure, you couldn’t help but giggle. Even now, your husband was so... Endearing. So cute. Your bring your hands up to hold his face as you nod your head eagerly, over and over, “Please, Kyojuro-please, I want it,” You can see that he wants to worry about you, wants to ask you again to make sure-but he can’t, his body betrays him, his hips instantly slotting themselves against your own, pulling back only to quickly bring themselves back down, his cock pressing and rubbing against every bit of your insides as it moves in and out of you, over and over and over, so fast-and your husband hardly even breaks a sweat. ... His being a demon slayer, and a pillar, at that, had its perks, you supposed. His stamina was one of them. But he seemed to already be losing his composure, too, with just how long it’d been since you’d gotten to be so close. “This-this is embarrassing, haha-I feel like I could burst at any moment already-just-just thinking about how-utterly perfect you’d look, ah-” His hips stutter, and he stills for a second, to keep his own pleasure at bay for a moment-though he makes up for it with the hand that shoots down to rub and stroke at what his cock isn’t already touching, “-goodness gracious-how perfect you’d look, pregnant, my love-” As if you aren’t ready to burst, yourself. Did he suddenly forget about denying you mere minutes ago...? “M-my husband-my husband, Kyojuro, please, m-me too, just go ahead, please-please give me your child, give it to me, please-” “You’re really as difficult as you are beautiful!” The very wind is knocked out of you as you find your legs suddenly on either side of your head, as he fucks into you with a very renewed, fittingly fiery sense of vigor and passion, grunting freely every time he feels you wrap around him again and again, “I truly did want to take my time with you this evening, my sweet-how irresistible you are like this-I’ll have to savor you another time-” This position, the wildness in his eyes, the feeling and the sight of him-yes, the sight of him, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t see the bulge appearing and disappearing from your stomach-fucking into you desperately, all of it is far too much for you, far too overwhelming, but of course he revels above you in the way you clamp down on him and make a sudden, abrupt mess all over the pair of you, not to mention the futon underneath you. “So beautiful-so beautiful like this, my love-I-just the sight of you, you’re going to make me-goodness-” He leans over you and folds you in half even further, nose brushing against your neck, “I-I’m going to-I’m going to give it to you now, alright? I swear it, my love, my dear one, I’ll-I’ll get you pregnant, I promise, I promise, I--” It’s so intense, he almost roars as it washes over him, as he fills you up so completely it leaks out of you, with how long its been since either of you had any form of... Release. Your legs are released, and they flop numbly down against the plush futon beneath you-your husband can barely keep himself up, but he at least tries to be careful as he collapses against you, chuckling so happily against your shoulder while you can hardly keep your eyes open, let alone say anything. You wish you had the sense what was apparently so... Funny, right now. “... I love you, _____.” The biggest wave of tranquility falls over you, hearing those words. You can’t quite say much of anything still, but he knows-he sees it in your eyes when he looks up at your face. You love him too. Right now, that’s all he needs. “I really am so happy to be home, dear one.”

#demon slayer kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #demon slayer imagines #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku x reader #rengoku smut #demon slayer smut #submission

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mxlti-fand0m-imaginess · 3 years

Text

Ouija Board // Tate Langdon

request: none

prompts: none

warnings: use of a ouija board, murder, crying, scaring people

a/n: i just used random names for the friends, so sorry if that’s your name :)

“Come on y/n, don’t chicken out on us now!” Liz said, dragging you towards the house.

“It’ll be fun! I promise,” Dylan said, grabbing a large rock to break the doorknob.

You were stood in front of the infamous Murder House. And stupidly, you let your friends talk you into coming here and using a ouija board. You never really believed in ghosts or anything like that, but you were still scared nonetheless.

“There are easier ways to get in you know,” Liz said, rolling her eyes as Dylan smashed the rock against the doorknob, knocking it to the floor.

“Yeah but this is more fun.”

“Should we really be doing this? We could get in trouble for breaking in. I don’t think I could survive jail.”

“Oh my god y/n, we’ll be fine. And Dylan knows what he’s doing. Besides, don’t you wanna talk to ghosts?”

“Nope, not really.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun.”

“Ok, I got the door open!”

The two of you looked towards the door where Dylan was. The door was now open, and he had already walked inside. You felt your stomach drop, wanting nothing more than to get out of there. But Liz had other plans. She grabbed your arm and began to drag you inside.

With a sigh, you gave up on fighting and figured you might as well try to have fun. When you vented the house, an overwhelming smell of mold filled your senses. It was disgusting. There was sheets over the furniture, and leftover belongings scattered everywhere.

“That’s weird, there isn’t any dust here,” Dylan said as he swiped his finger along the mantle.

“Maybe there’s a maid ghost who has to spend eternity cleaning. That sounds like an awful afterlife,” Liz replied, laughing softly.

“Can we just get this over with already? I’m getting bad vibes from this place,” you said, feeling as if someone’s eyes were trained on you.

“That’s kinda the point. This is supposedly the most haunted building in the world. So many people have been brutally murdered. I would give anything to live here.”

“Dylan, you are really fucked up,” Liz said while laughing.

You rolled your eyes at your best friends, and followed them deeper into the house, until you arrived in front of a door.

“Here it is, the basement. I’ve read online, that most of the ghosts like to stay down there.”

“Let’s go!” Liz squealed, pushing the door open and speeding down the stairs.

Dylan followed her, leaving you alone at the top of the stairs. You sighed and started to walk down the steps. The. you heard a noise from behind you. You quickly turned around to see that the door was shut.

You brushed it off, thinking you must’ve bumped it, and continued down the stairs to find Dylan and Liz setting the ouija board up. You sat down beside them and tried to calm yourself, knowing it would all be over soon.

“Ok, place your fingers on the cup, and then we can talk to the ghosts.”

You and Liz did what Dylan said, placing your fingers on top of the glass placed in the middle of the bored.

“Is there anyone there?” Dylan asked.

Nothing happened for a second, but then the cup started to move. It dragged itself over to the ‘yes’ and then stopped.

“Oh my god,” you murmured, starting to feel fear come over you.

“What’s your name?” Liz asked the ghost.

The cup moved again, and began to spell out a name.

H-A-Y-D-E-N

“Y/n, ask them something!” Liz said smiling excitedly.

“Is there anything you want to tell us?” you asked, not really sure that you wanted an answer.

R-U-N

The lights in the basement flickered off leaving you guys in the darkness.

“I’m pretty sure that’s our cue to leave,” you said, beginning to stand up.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Liz said.

The three of you got up and ran towards the straits, trying to get out of the basement. Liz and Dylan made it out, but the door slammed in front of you before you could follow.

You pulled on the door knob but it wouldn’t budge. You started to pound on the door, screaming for Liz and Dylan, but they were too far away to here you.

“They can’t hear you. They already left,” a voice behind you said.

You turned around and stared into the darkness.

“Who are you?” you asked, feeling your voice quiver.

“Wow, you forgot me already? Ouch. I’m Hayden, remember? I told you to run, but I guess you didn’t wanna listen.”

You didn’t get the chance to say anything, before you felt yourself being shoved down the stairs. You tumbled down them, before landing on the concrete floor of the basement.

You carefully tried to pull yourself up, but you were immediately pushed back down again. The lights turned on and you screamed at what you saw before you. A monster like creature hovered above you, and the next thing you saw was black.

You slowly opened your eyes and sat up, feeling your conscious come back to you. You looked around, panicking, trying to remember where you were. Then it all came back to you. The basement. Murder House. Liz and Dylan. They left you.

You wanted to be angry, but you didn’t have the time. Right now, you just had to get out of here. You wanted to go home and be safe in your room. You took off running, heading up the stairs and out of the basement.

You ran toward the front door, pushing it open and heading towards the street. But then, you were back in the house. You ran out again, only to end up back inside once more. You tried over, and over to leave, but you couldn’t. You kept ending up back inside the house.

You gave up. You let your weight fall against a wall behind you, and slid down it, curling into a. ball sobbing. We’re you going crazy? What was happening to you? Why couldn’t you leave? Why can’t you remember anything after entering the basement?

Then you felt a presence beside you. A teenage boy, with wavy blond hair and dark brown eyes. He was beautiful. You might’ve been feeling butterflies, if not for the overwhelming sense of panic that currently filled you.

“Hey, I’m Tate,” he said smiling softly.

“Y/n,” you replied hesitantly.

“So, I bet you’re pretty confused right now.”

“How’d you know?”

“Well, I saw you running around, trying to leave.”

“Why can’t I?”

He fell silent for a moment, and locked away.

“Uhm, you’re dead.”

Your eyes widened and you immediately stood up and backed away from him.

“What? I’m not dead! My friends and I came here to talk to ghosts and now they’re gone and I can’t leave. But I’m not dead! That’s crazy!”

“Y/n, I saw you die. I moved your body,” he paused for a second before continuing,” Do you wanna see it?”

“Wait so let me get this straight. You just watched me get murdered and did nothing about it, you moved my body, and now you wanna show it to me? You’re crazy! None of this makes sense! I’m not dead! I can’t be dead! I think I would remember dying!”

“You can’t. No one can. I don’t remember my own death. I’ve only heard what people told me.”

“Oh really? You’re dead too? Fine, then tell me? How did you die?”

He went silent once more.

“I don’t wanna tell you.”

“See, I knew it! You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying, it’s just-, if I tell you, you’re going to be scared of me.”

You laughed once more, not believing a word that he was saying.

“I doubt that. If you really are dead, just tell me!”

“Fine! I was shot by the cops.”

Then it hit you. Shot by the cops. You remembered hearing about that when Dylan went on one of his rants about the house. Wait, Tate as in Tate Langdon? The guy who shot up your high school in the 90s?

“Do you believe me know?” he asked softly.

“Oh my god. You were that guy who shot up my high school like thirty years ago right? Wait, so you are telling the truth. But I, I can’t be dead. There’s so much I still wanted to do. I’ve never even fallen in love, I’ll never have a future. I’ll never get to do anything with my life.”

You started to sob again, realization washing over you. He wasn’t lying. You were dead. You were really dead. You felt a pair of arms wrap around you, and you looked up to find Tate hugging you.

Slowly you wrapped your arms around him, desperately searching for comfort. But that said comfort was soon gone when someone else started to speak.

“Aw, am I interrupting something?”

That voice. You’ve heard it before. Part of it came back to you. It was her. She pushed you down the stairs. You pulled away from Tate and glared at the girl.

“You! You killed me!” you yelled at her.

“No, no, no. I didn’t kill you. I just helped that creature down there do it.”

“Why? Why would you do that?”

“It was getting boring. I wanted someone new around here.”

“Go away Hayden,” Tate said, glaring at her.

“Ugh fine,” she said before disappearing.

“Well, I guess I’ll show you around?”

a few months later

It’s been a few months since you’ve died, and you’ve already adjusted to your new life. Things weren’t so bad. You were kinda friends with Violet, and you and Tate have been dating for a while.

Being dead didn’t really bother you anymore. You’ve started to see the bright side of it. No more getting sick. You didn’t have to take your finals. And you never had to see your so called “friends” who left you here to die.

At least that’s what you thought. You and Tate were sitting together in the basement when the door opened. You didn’t think much of it, until you heard a familiar voice.

“How do you even know she’s here?”

You gasped. It was Liz. And Dylan was walking right behind her. They were back. You were so angry at them for leaving you. They left you behind to die.

The two of them sat down next to you and Tate, setting up their ouija board. You looked at Tate and smirked. You were going to have fun with this.

“Is anyone there?” Dylan asked.

You walked over to them and pushed the cup to yes.

“Who are you?” Liz said, seeming a little more nervous than she was the last time she was here.

You moved the glass to spell out your name, laughing when you saw how scared the looked.

“Y/n, we’re so sorry! We thought you were behind us! And when we finally got outside, the door wouldn’t open,” Dylan said.

You moved the cup once more.

Y-O-U-L-E-F-T-M-E

“Y/n we’re sorry! No one believed us when we went to get help. Your parents thought you ran away. We tried! We really did!” Liz pleaded.

Y-O-U-D-I-D-N-T-E-V-E-N-C-O-M-E-B-A-C-K

“We were too scared. We’re so sorry. Y/n, please.”

You and Tate laughed at their pleas. You weren’t going to forgive them. You couldn’t. Not after what they did to you.

“Go mess with the lights!” you asked Tate.

He nodded and ran over to the light switch, flicking it on and off.

“Dylan, maybe we should get out of here!”

L-E-A-V-I-N-G-S-O-S-O-O-N-?

“No we’re not! Liz, come on we have to talk to her.”

“I don’t know Dylan, they seem angry.”

You decided to let them hear you. You kept yourself hidden, but let your voice be heard.

“Angry? Why would I be angry? It’s not like the only people I’ve ever trusted forced me to come when I said I didn’t want to and them left me to die. Oh wait? That did happen.”

When you finished speaking, Tate left the lights off. The door opened at the top of the stairs, and Dylan and Liz ran. They left the board and left the basement, heading for the open front door. Before they could get out, Tate slammed it shut. They both screamed.

“Aw, you’re leaving already?” you asked, before laughing.

Then you let them see you. You appeared in front of the door, and you made your wounds visible too.

They gasped when they saw you. Covered in scratches and dripping blood. Clothes torn to shreds. Bruises littering you.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry,” Liz said stepping closer to you.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I’m sorry,” Dylan said to you.

You didn’t say anything you only glared at them. Then Tate appeared beside you.

“You two should leave before you’re not able to anymore.”

Then you and Tate disappeared and opened the door, allowing them to run out, before slamming it shut once more.

As soon as they were gone, you both burst out laughing. Sure you’ve scared people who’ve tried to buy the house before, but this was the best reaction you’ve ever gotten. They were terrified.

“So do you finally feel like you got your revenge?” Tate asked, smiling brightly at you.

“Yeah, thanks for helping me,” you said, pulling him into a tight hug.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’d do anything for you.”

Taglist: @ahsxual @darlingkitt @1800-fuckbitchesgetmoney @horrorgirlx @jamespotterslover

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dr3amofagame · 3 years

Note

i think that although the theories/aus of puffy's son dream and wil's brother dream are interesting to think about, especially the implications, the (probably) canon statement that he really has no family to me hits the hardest. because it's just dream, you know. his friends hate him, he has none (p relatable), but i can't really imagine,, both not having friends and not having a family. that's kind of what keeps a lot of us sane and okay ( - quill anon (same anon from the c!tubbo c!wil ask) )

ouch quill anon ,, this ask Hurt. it’s true - usually, it’s our family and friends that keep us going, that are the ones that we fight for and live for and love for. c!dream’s “family” was his reasoning behind ,, a lot of the stuff he did, good or bad, and even now you can hear his desperation in getting someone, anyone to visit sometimes, in wanting to know how people are doing outside the cell.

at the same time, he’s a character very much defined by his solitude, by his isolation, by all of the time he has spent,, alone. by the alliances that had been broken, betrayed, forgotten. by how- at the end of the day - he sits for hours on end in an obsidian box with nothing but his thoughts to accompany him. it’s awfully ,, sad, despite everything he’s done. through it all, he’s alone. he survives the horrors of the vault (until this current arc) alone. nobody’s there to hear his thoughts. nobody knows his mindset, or feelings, or wants, or anything that really makes him human. for someone so driven by people, he spends so much time completely isolated - and it’s. honestly really, really tragic.

anyway, this is a sad little drabble set pre-roommates arc abt c!dream in the prison, alone, bc he makes me Sad.

tw: mentioned torture, abuse, violence, broken bones, blood, injuries, mental deterioration, isolation, panic attacks, self-deprecation, trauma, memory loss, death, contemplations of death, dark content, dark imagery

The blank book in his hand stares at him stubbornly, the stark white of the untouched pages nearly burning his eyes, used to the dark walls and floor of the cell. Dream’s hand shakes around his quill, ink splotches marring the pages from where his too-unsteady hand had let the nib brush against the paper and left freckles of black spots behind. He pulls his thumb back from the bottom left corner, hissing slightly when it leaves a dull red fingerprint behind, a smudge of half-dried blood further dirtying the paper.

He’d pulled out one of the books for some reason, probably on a whim, letting his hands run over the leather spine and along the thread of the binding absentmindedly after Quackity left for the day. He hadn’t touched them in a while - he liked to save them, at the beginning, just in case visitors came and he wanted to thank them or if he needed to communicate (though he hadn’t gone silent since Sapnap left, ‘cause Sapnap wanted him to talk and he doesn’t know why he still clings to that visit when it’s been months and he still hasn’t come back, but he promised that if Dream behaved he’d visit again and - it’s stupid to hope, but Dream can’t give up, not yet) and then he kept them because he would need them for the revive book and the Warden would confiscate them, anyway, so it was better not to get attached. Regardless, he’d stubbornly ignored the chest of books for a long time, let the remain closed and the clasp go unlatched as he wasted his days away watching the walls drip bright purple and pretend he didn’t miss his clock.

Until now.

He runs his fingers along the surface of the paper again, ignoring the red and black smudges they leave in their wakes, ruining the previously unblemished pages. The paper is smooth, bearing a very slight grain, and smells clean and woody - this book must’ve been a newer one the Warden replaced into the chest. He’d counted the pages a few times, front and back - there are fifty sheets, so a hundred pages to use as he sees fit, completely empty and untouched. The quill shakes in his hand, the tip pressed against the paper, unmoving.

What is there to write?

He’s forgotten why he pulled out the book in the first place, already - his head keeps getting fuzzier, memory impossibly fragmented and seemingly worsening with every passing day. He knows he had a reason because he’d been very determined about it, had spent what must have been hours dragging himself along the obsidian floor with a broken shinbone jutting out of his right leg and a dislocated left shoulder that he’d taken an extra few minutes to jam back in place by pressing it against the floor. Something had come into his head, probably in the middle of Quackity’s daily session, and he’d found himself desperate to write it down before he forgot despite the throbbing of his head and the pain in his chest making it impossible to take a full breath.

(He must have talked back, or acted defiant, or something - he doesn’t remember much besides the look Quackity had given him after, dark and angry and tight with rage. There had been a hand tangled in his hair, a blade jammed right up against his throat, curses and screams in his ears dying into a singular ringing echo as the blade was pushed deeper and deeper. It wasn’t until a few minutes later when Quackity realized that he’d gone too deep and that Dream was choking on his own blood - his memories shatter, and there’s nothing but more screaming, red and black and blood everywhere, warm against his skin, the sweet-sour taste of glistening melon on his tongue, a healing pot desperately stitching his skin together and bringing him back from the darkness that he’d swelled in the corners of his vision - mostly, he remembers everything going cold and numb and he’d realized, halfway into the Void, that he would never leave the Vault alive.)

His hands tighten on the book as he breathes a shallow, harsh breath through his teeth, because - oh. Oh. He looks back at the trembling white plume in his hand, at his shaking fingers clenched tightly near the end, and he swallows the thick, heavy feeling in his throat. Quackity had- and he had- and then-

Right.

He forces air into his lungs steadily, counting the seconds off in his head. He’d learned how to stave off panic attacks on his own ages ago, and the knowledge had come to full use in the Vault - the struggle to stay calm seems harder with every passing day, but he can’t exactly risk himself passing out every three seconds when he’s inevitably set off by the smell of blood or a twinge of pain or any of the million other triggers crammed into this tiny box that’s been the source of all of his torment for months. He keeps up the slow, steady breathing for another few minutes, just enough time to pull back the darkness creeping in from the edges of his vision, and looks back down at the blank paper.

It stares back at him, almost judgmental of his hesitancy. You opened me up, it seems to challenge him, why aren’t you writing? The quill still shakes in his hand. He doesn’t know if it’ll ever stop shaking again.

Dear, he begins, almost in defiance, proof that he Is Going To Write Something, thank you very much, he isn’t just going to chicken out and leave it a blank book (like you have before?) but the quill tip digs into the paper as he grinds to a sudden halt, the empty space next to the first word nearly taunting. He feels his mouth dry, heat rising behind his eyes - the book, silent and blank as ever, stays imprinted in his vision even as he squeezes them shut.

Dear, what a stupid, sentimental way to start a letter. He can’t even fool himself into thinking of it as a business venture, turn it into an elaborate plan to escape and address it to either Techno or Wilbur (who would never receive his message anyway), not without admitting his regard for the two edged past his pretense of professional interested and owed favors. He can hardly write it to Ranboo, not without compromising their already fragile alliance (if it even exists, anymore. The enderman hybrid had yet to visit for months - and sure, it was probably for the best, who knows how Quackity would react if he found out about the nature of their relationship, but that didn’t make it sting any less.)

In the back of his minds, name rise from where he’d kept them carefully buried despite his best efforts. Punz. Bad. Puffy. Sapnap. George. He shakes his head, trying to wave away them from his thoughts, but the effort is as fruitless as it has always been - he stares at the first word angrily, like it has betrayed him, and receives no response. The words are messy, shaking, his script overly looping and rounded like a child’s. He hates it, hates how cheery it looks, even on the bloodstained page - it looks like the beginning of a birthday card, or a perhaps a particularly dedicated Halloween party invite. Like he’s some sort of lovesick teen, writing letters to crushes that would never pay him a second glance. He laughed a little, without any real humor - minus the romance, that description isn’t all that far off.

Because- well. His memories might be shot to all hell, but he doubts he’ll ever forget the hatred on Sapnap’s face, a loaded crossbow pointed between his eyes, George’s expression set in disinterested apathy - “George, you can give the word.” Bad’s face, twisted in pity and resignation, voice carefully measured as he looks away and gestures at the cell, “you did do some pretty bad stuff to get put in here though, Dream,” the hidden “you deserve it” that he’d heard, just as clearly behind the words. Punz - “you should’ve paid me more” - jaw set stiffly as people poured through the portal, watching, wordless, as Dream bled out twice on that blackstone floor. Puffy, poorly hidden disgust flickering over her face as she looks away from him being dragged away in chains, sword held steady in her hands. Sapnap, that same fiercely determined expression on his face so familiar that thinking of it aches, even now, “it’s gonna be me, who takes your final life.” Months and months and months and months, alone.

Always, always, alone.

The page makes a quiet, complaining groan under his pen - he looks down to see it torn under the tip of his quill, the word completely unreadable under line after line of black ink scratched over it, each one deeper than the last. He stares blankly at it for a few minutes longer, the brief flash of anger that had seared through his body settling into numbness once more.

To whoever may find this: he scratches the words on the page slowly, keeping his print deliberately blocky and neat. The heavy feeling in his throat returns, stronger than ever, and he ignores it as he pushes on.

He pauses for a moment, wondering what more to write. Apologies? Accusations? He could detail every second that he remembers from Quackity’s visits, describe every inch of pain that had been pulled from his aching lungs, every line etched into his skin. He could apologize for every act of cruelty that had ever been caused by his hands, every bridge he’d ever torched to light the path to a better future. He could explain - everything, every tortured thought that had circled his head for hours on end and every night that had passed without any sleep and every time he’d pushed on without complaint or hesitancy because it would be worth it, even if he was the only one who saw it, it would be worth it because he’d sacrifice too much for it to be anything but. He could- he could, he could write and write until he’d filled every page of every book back and front, and would they even believe him? Would it even matter?

Goodbye, he writes at last. It feels strangely final. (He won’t be leaving this Vault alive. He knows this as surely as he knows that he will leave this world uncared for, unheard. As surely as he knows that he’ll always be alone.) With a quick snap of magic following the signing of his name, the book is preserved, shining slightly with a purple glow as he sets it back down in the chest. He looks around, the cell once again stiflingly quiet without the book to busy him, Dream once again completely alone as he’s been for - well.

(Pandas, eyebrows drawn in uncharacteristic seriousness from the usually painfully spirited eight-year-old, pinkie raised between the two of them, solemnity belied by the gap in his front teeth poking out between his lips.

“We’ll be together forever,” he whispered with the volume control you’d expect from a kid that age, which is to say that it wasn’t much of a whisper at all, but Dream, newly ten years old, remembers being particularly moved by the gesture anyway, moving to hesitantly hook his own pinkie in the other’s.

“And we’ll never be alone ever again,” he’d replied, voice faraway with a disbelieving sort of awe.”

“Never,” Pandas’ voice had been just as firm as his first statement, twisting his wrist to tighten the grip of their linked fingers further. “Best friends for ever and ever, right?”

“For ever and ever.”)

“For ever and ever,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut as he slumps down against the floor, and only the lava bubbles in reply.

#tw torture #tw abuse #tw violence #tw broken bones #tw injuries #tw mental deterioration #tw isolation #tw panic attack #tw self deprecation #tw trauma #tw memory loss #tw death #tw dark content #tw dark imagery #-> my writing #my writing :D #my asks !!#-> my asks #quill anon !

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venomous--fics · 3 years

Text

Anon requested: Read your Peter B Parker imagine and loved it! Maybe where the reader goes off to college and MJ and Peter drop them off finally and MJ and Peter miss them way more than they admit so eventually when the reader visits they go all out, (side note: I have lived in an abusive household all my life and you have no idea the comfort your imagines have brought me every time i have another fight with my parents I read this series, you are so insanely talented, thank you so much, your writing means so much more to me than you will ever know :))

A/N: I hope everything is going okay for you!! And I hope I did your request justice!

Life really moves fast, they weren't joking. It felt like you were in middle school just a few months ago, but here you are...College. Didn't think you'd even go to college, but Peter and Mj told you to at least try it. If you didn't like it, you could leave, they said. They'd support you no matter what.

And here they were, doing just that. They were helping you carry your bags to your dorm. It felt so out of place being here. Everyone seemed to come from every sort of background. Rich, already semi famous, smart, geeky. You weren't sure if anyone was the same as you. What would roommate be like? Did you even have one?

Peter and Mj couldn't help but look around. Was this the right place for you? Would any of the teacher be able to teach you exactly what you needed in a way that you'd understand? They know how professors could be.

After you got your key from the front desk, you three crowded into an elevator. Everything did seem so sparkly and new, but would it be homey? Would you be comfortable?

Another trip down the hall put you in front of your door. You opened it, to be greeted with a small, empty space. Of course, they had the standard things already in there. A bed. A desk. The works.

"It's...Something." Mj said.

"I'd give it at least two stars." Peter replied, "It's no Ritz, I'll tell you that."

"I think it'll work." you tried to be optimistic for them, "It just needs some sprucing up."

You tossed your bag onto your bed and opened it.

This was really happening. You weren't going to ride home with them. You were...Staying here. Look at you go. Making all the big decisions now. It's almost like you weren't some lame kid anymore.

You dug out a CD player and plugged it in, setting it on the small night table that was situated next to the bed, "I thought we could fill the silence."

Peter and Mj helped you unpack most of your things, leaving stuff such as your electronics off to the side. You could sort through those later.

You three hung out for awhile after, until they thought it was time for them to leave. That's when it dawned on you too. You didn't get to make jokes on the car ride back. You had to be a big kid now and stay put.

"I guess this is it for awhile." you said, patting your hands down to your sides.

"Yep. This is it." Peter said.

Mj tried to smile, but you knew what she was really feeling. it wasn't sorrow, it was just a bittersweet feeling. You were putting on a strong façade for them, but if one of them frowned all bets were off.

"So, uh, I guess...Goodbye."

Mj couldn't help it anymore. She practically burst into tears as she pulled you into a hug, "I'm going to miss you so much, sweetheart!"

Peter followed suit, tears and all, "Don't like this place too much!"

You hugged them back the best you could, sobbing uncontrollably, "I'm going to miss you more!"

You three cried together for awhile, blubbering and sputtering out all the "I love you mom! You too, dad!" over and over until it just sounded like gurgling. You were certain a few people stopped to stare.

After they left your dorm, you hustled to your window, praising whoever assigns these things, for giving you a front view. You opened the window and waved as they left. You kept waving until they were out of sight.

You nearly laughed at that memory. It was so silly, but you'd hope to have more like that. Maybe they'd react that way when you came in. It's been nearly a year since you've been home, and you had so much to tell them. You had a week off for a holiday break, and you wasted no time to come home.

You missed the home cooked meals honestly. Again, they weren't kidding when they told you that a college kids diet wasn't good. You can't remember the last real meal you had that didn't include something from the gas station.

Your keys jingled as you stuck them in the lock and twisted the knob.

The second your foot step through the doorway, you were blasted with confetti and loud noises from what sounded like dying birds. Were those noise makers? You covered your face as more confetti flew at you. It was all over you now. In your hair, clinging to your nose from the static. At least it wasn't glitter.

"What in the world?" you asked, setting your bag down.

"Welcome home!"

Mj ran right over and pulled you to the kitchen island, showing off the cake her and Peter made for you. It was decorated so nicely, and had candle lit on the top. You blew them out and looked up at her as she stuck a party hat on your head.

"Were you two waiting there the whole time?"

"Are you asking if we waited behind the counter for three hours? Yes, we did." Peter said, digging a knife out of one of the drawers.

"Did we spend all day cooking and decorating? Yes, we did!" Mj smiled, "We were just so excited to see you again."

You looked around, seeing all the ribbons and signs adorn everywhere. Then your eyes landed on a few wrapped presents, "This is nuts. Even for you guys."

"What can we say." Mj chirped, "We love you. And we're so proud! When you called us about that exam a while back? I would've given up, everything is so much more advanced now."

"But look at you." Peter chimed in, helping himself to the cake, "You did it. Made it look easy, too."

"It wasn't. I can tell you that."

"So, how long until you get locked back up?" he asked.

"I got a week off."

Mj's heart seemed to take flight as she whipped out another confetti popper and set it off, "Wonderful!"

You really did miss this. Everything away from home seemed so boring and exhausting to be around. But this? Wouldn't trade it for the world.

"Oh!" she said, waking over to the oven, "I have dinner ready if you're hungry."

"Starving." you said, "I missed lunch because I was just too eager to get back here."

You helped Mj set the table, and stopped Peter from taking even more cake.

You three sat at the table and talked for hours. You made sure to leave no details out, and they were just in awe at all you've done, and all that you will do. You were the future, and they were content with knowing it'd be a good one.

You made sure to help with the dishes, and also made sure to help yourself to the cake, per Mj's request. A few movies were watched, with conversations continuing on and off. And when everyone retired to bed for the night, you had never felt so at peace.

It was so nice to be home.

You nestled under your blankets and turned your lamp off. If only you could stay here forever.

#marvel imagine #marvel x reader #into the spiderverse imagine #into the spiderverse x reader #peter b parker imagine #peter b parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader

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triptuckers · 3 years

Text

Looking at the wrong one - Jesper Fahey

Request: yes! “Firstly, I just want to say I really love your writing! I’ve had this idea for a while and wanting to find someone to write it because I love it so much. So basically reader has feelings for Kaz but he’s obviously in love with Inej so she confides in Jesper who comforts her and she eventually realizes that he’s been the one for her the whole time. I hope you can write it but if you can’t that’s totally fine too!!” Pairing: Jesper Fahey x reader Summary: Jesper is the first person you go to when you need advice about something - or rather, someone. It takes you a while to realise you’ve been sneaking glances at the wrong person. Warnings: none Word count: 2.7K A/N: I loved this request sm!! been busy busy busy lately so sorry if your request is taking a while for me to write, finish and post! enjoy reading :)

You glance over at Kaz while he’s explaining the blueprints laid out in front of everyone. You’re trying to pay attention to what he’s saying, you really are, but it’s hard. It’s hard to focus on what he’s saying when Kaz is the one who’s talking.

There’s no denying it, Kaz looks good. For weeks you tried to push your feelings away, but soon what started as a little crush developed into something more. And now you can barely keep your eyes off of him.

There’s just something about his mysterious aura. The dark hair, sharp jaw, how he never seems to smile - though you did catch him smile once when he thought no one was looking. There’s so much you don’t know about him, and you’re dying to find out.

Apparently, you’ve been staring at Kaz for a little too long, because you feel someone nudging your shoulder, and turn to face them.

‘You know.’ mutters Jesper to you from the corner of his mouth. ‘If you want to talk about it, or just need to rant and have someone listen to you, I’m always here. I’ve heard I’m excellent company.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ you say. ‘Do you think we can pull this job of?’

You hoped Jesper wouldn’t ask about Kaz again, and he senses your need to change the subject.

‘We better.’ he says. ‘We can score big with this one.’

Jesper starts talking about what he’s going to do once the job is done, but your eyes are already shifting back to Kaz. You can’t help but to feel a knot in your chest as you see him looking at Inej.

While you’re always looking at Kaz, you catch him looking at Inej.

Inej is one of your closest friends, and you would die for her. Hell, you almost did die for her a couple of months ago. Still, you couldn’t help but to feel jealous of her. Of the way Kaz looked at her.

Whenever Kaz was looking at Inej and you caught him, it didn’t take long for you to fall down a rabbit hole of insecure and jealous thoughts.

You’d think of everything Inej can do that you cannot do. She has a gifts for knives, you know your way around guns, not knives. When she’s sneaking around, she almost becomes one with the shadows, you couldn’t soundlessly sneak up to someone even if you tried.

You always concluded Inej was better than you on more than one aspect. You figured she would be a better match for Kaz than you could ever be. You were ashamed of being so jealous of your friend when all Kaz did was look at her. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get rid of the jealousy.

After Kaz has rolled up the blueprints and everyone went over the plan one last time, you say your goodnights and all head back to your own rooms. You’re barely aware of your movements as your legs carry you to your room. When you move to open the door to your room, a familiar whistle makes you look up.

‘The offer for some company still stands.’ says Jesper, and he winks at you before entering his own room, next to yours in the hallway.

While Jesper didn’t have Kaz’ gift for coming up with plans, he wasn’t stupid. He had caught you looking at Kaz a couple of times, then decided to speak up. As soon as the opportunity presented himself, he’d taken you apart from the others and confronted you about your staring.

You were shocked, asking him how he could have possible figured it out. Jesper merely raised his eyebrows and told you you’re always looking at Kaz. You hadn’t realised you looked at Kaz so many times. Ever since, Jesper has offered a listening ear. And though you appreciated it, you weren’t ready to talk about your feelings just yet.

As you’re taking your boots off, your mind wanders to Kaz again. And the way he looked at Inej. He didn’t show his feelings that often, but you couldn’t help but notice how soft his eyes were when he looked at Inej. It drove you crazy, and you didn’t like that it did. You felt like you were going to explode if you kept pushing these feelings down any longer. Maybe having someone listen to you didn’t seem like such a bad idea after all.

Not bothering to put your boots back on, you get up and leave your room. You take a few steps to get in front of Jesper’s door. Though it’s not that late and he’s probably still awake, you hesitate. What if he just wanted to be a good friend, but wasn’t actually interested in your thoughts on Kaz?

You sigh and shake your head, clearing your mind. You then raise your hand and knock on the door. After a few seconds it opens, revealing Jesper. He’s taken off his coat and boots, leaving him in just a shirt and a pair of trousers. He smiles when he sees you.

‘I see you do want my company?’ he says. ‘Only if you don’t mind.’ you say. ‘Of course not.’ he says, stepping aside so you can enter his room.

You take a seat in the only chair in the room as Jesper closes the door. He walks over to his bed and sits down as you tuck your feet under your legs, getting comfortable.

‘So.’ says Jesper. ‘Am I problem solving or listening?’

You frown at his words. ‘What does that mean?’ you ask him.

‘Well, it’s the easiest way to prevent a fight.’ explains Jesper. ‘If I’m problem solving, I’ll give you advice and come up with solutions. If I’m listening, I’m just going to shut up and, well, listen. So, am I problem solving or listening?’

‘Listening, I guess.’ you say.

‘Alright.’ says Jesper, leaning back against the wall and stretching his legs in front of him. He gestures with his hand to you. ‘Let it all out then, love.’

You don’t know where to begin. Jesper is patient as you’re searching for the words. Without realising, you start to play with your fingers, a habit of yours which you do when you’re thinking or anxious.

‘It starts... Well, when I became a member of the Dregs, I guess. I was young, but Kaz was around my age. We became close friends. That is, as far as being close friends with Kaz goes. I trusted him, he trusted me. We spent months working our way up to the top and along the way you tagged along, and Inej, Nina, Matthias and Wylan. I care about all of you, but there’s just something different about Kaz.’ you tell him.

Jesper looks at you but doesn’t say anything. He’s just listening, exactly like he said he would.

‘It started off as an innocent crush. Saints, I sound like some school girl. Anyway, somewhere along the way that little crush developed into something more. And now I can’t stop looking at him or thinking about him. And now that I’ve said this out loud, I realise you are the first person I’ve talked to about this.’

You’re silent for a while as you look at Jesper. You were afraid he’d laugh at you, but he’s just sitting on his bed, looking at you.

‘I can tell there’s still something else on your mind.’ he simply says. You let out a sigh and nod, and start talking again.

‘He’s always looking at Inej. Whenever I look at him, he’s looking at Inej. I know I shouldn’t feel the way I do, but I cannot pretend it doesn't make me a little jealous. The first time I saw him looking at Inej, I wished he looked at me like that. I know this sounds stupid, but I really can’t help it. And once I catch him looking at her, I start to think about how I’m not worth it.’ you say.

Now Jesper frowns. ‘But you’re worth it.’ he says. You chuckle softly and shake your head.

‘She’s everything I’m not. She’s pretty, she’s very skilled with her knives, she can sneak up to anyone without being seen or heard. She knows the secrets of everyone in the Barrel. She could take down the Merchant council all on her own if she wanted to. I can’t do that.’ you say.

‘I know I said I was listening, but can I just offer you one piece of advice?’ asks Jesper. You nod. ‘You say you notice the way Kaz looks at Inej, I have noticed that as well. He looks at her the way you look at him. Don’t you think you should try to admit to yourself that he’s only going to be looking at her, and not you?’

‘Deep down I know that.’ you say softly. ‘But I can’t fully wrap my head around that. Not just yet, at least.’

‘Alright.’ says Jesper. ‘Maybe not now, but if you give it time, maybe it’ll hurt less.’

You look at him and smile as you get up. ‘Thank you Jesper.’ you say. ‘This is nice. Having someone listen to you.’

Jesper gets up as well as you walk toward the door. ‘The door’s always open to you.’ says Jesper as he opens the door for you. ‘You can always swing by.’

‘Thanks.’ you say as you step out onto the hallway. ‘Goodnight, Jes.’ ‘Night, Y/N.’ he says as you walk the few steps to the door of your room.

After that conversation, your nightly visits to Jesper’s room increase. Sometimes he’s problem solving, sometimes he’s listening, and sometimes you just sit in silence when all you want is some company.

There’s even one night in which you actually fell asleep when you were sitting on his bed, and when you woke up the next morning, you found Jesper sleeping on the floor while using his coat as a blanket. Your heart melted a little, but you decided not to speak up as you snuck out of his room.

Weeks pass, and slowly your visits turn from seeking advice about Kaz to enjoying a conversation with Jesper. He makes you laugh as he tells you stories about how he used to drive his parents crazy doing god knows what at their farm. In return, you tell him about the life you lived before you came to Ketterdam.

Another couple of visits later, and you’ve almost completely forgotten that you originally started visiting Jesper to talk about Kaz. You notice you’ve stopped sneaking glances at Kaz. You’re not even jealous when you catch him looking at Inej again.

Instead, your attention is on Jesper. More than once, he caught your eye and sent a wink you way, making you smile and turn away.

Your nightly visits increase even more, and you can be found in Jesper’s room almost every night, laughing at his jokes.

After a particularly long night that involved keeping tabs on the security of one of the banks for hours, you find yourself in front of Jesper’s room again. Kaz had sent you out on the job, and you had hoped Jesper would be in his room when you got back.

But after knocking three times, he still hasn’t opened the door. You whistle a familiar tune, hoping he’d answer the door. When he doesn’t, you kick over a tiny tin can that sits on the floor next to the door.

‘So predictable.’ you murmur as you bend down to pick up the key that was underneath it. Knowing Jesper probably wouldn’t mind, you let yourself in and walk over to the only chair in the room.

You let yourself settle in and reach out to take the deck of cards Jesper always keeps on his nightstand.

You’re fooling around with the cards, if only to keep yourself busy as you wait for Jesper. You’re shuffling the cards, moving them smoothly in your hands.

‘Can you teach me that?’

At the sudden voice, you drop half of the cards. You hadn’t seen or heard him coming. Jesper chuckles as he walks over and stands behind you, looking out over the city beneath you.

‘This is my favourite view.’ he says, looking out the window.

‘Mine too.’ you say, while you look at the reflection of his face in the window. You then fully realise you haven’t talked about Kaz in weeks, that you just come to Jesper’s room for a conversation and some company, and you remember the night he slept on the floor.

‘Jes?’ you ask him. ‘Yea love?’ he says. ‘The other night when I was here-’ ‘Care to specify which night?’

‘I fell asleep, and when I woke up you were sleeping on the floor.’ ‘Oh, that night.’ he says. ‘Well, would you rather I had pushed you off the bed?’ ‘No.’ you laugh.

Jesper laughs too and you look at each other in silence afterward. It’s a comfortable silence, and he’s the first one to speak up.

‘You haven’t talked about Kaz in a while.’ he says. ‘Finally realised his heart belongs to someone else?’

‘Yes, well, I realised that so does mine.’ you say. This makes Jesper frown.

‘Already moving on?’ he says. ‘Thought your feelings for him were more serious.’

‘They were.’ you say. ‘But I've found someone who listens to me, who sees me, who makes me laugh.’ you cock your head to the side a little and look at him. ‘Nice to look at, as well.’

Jesper raises one eyebrow.

‘Who is this mystery person?’ he says. ‘And am I problem solving or listening?’ ‘Well I hope you’re gonna do something else.’ you say. Jesper frowns again, making you playfully roll your eyes.

‘Not the smartest tonight, are we?’ you say. ‘Let me repeat it: I've found someone who listens to me, sees me, and makes me laugh. and not bad to look at.’

He’s still frowning. ‘Another hint?’ he says. ‘This is why Kaz does the planning and has the brains.’ you say, laughing.‘Rude.’ says Jesper.

‘It’s a he, and he’s caring and sweet, sometimes struggles to sit still, loves a good gunfight, he’s an excellent shot.’ you say.

Jesper smirks at you and then fakes a look of confusion on his face. ‘Still not getting it.’ he says. ‘Tell me more about him.’

You laugh and get up, standing close to him. ‘He’s not just an excellent shot, he’s the best damn sharpshooter in Ketterdam. Saved my ass a couple times as well. Owns a pair of stunningly hand made revolvers. He’s Zemini, taller than me, and..’ your voice drifts off.

‘And?’ says Jesper, stepping closer to you. ‘And I've been wondering if he’s a good kisser.’ you say softly.

‘Well, let’s find out, shall we?’ says Jesper and he cups your face with both of his hands and presses his lips against yours. They’re soft, and you can taste a hint of his last drink on them. He kisses you gently but passionate, and takes a breath when he pulls away.

‘Hmm.’ you say, pretending to think. ‘Yea, pretty good.’

‘Pretty good?’ says Jesper. ‘I've heard I'm more than a pretty good kisser.’

‘Prove it then.’ you say.

Jesper smirks and pulls you in for a kiss once more. This one is different, it’s more demanding, and leaves you breathless as you struggle to keep your knees from buckling.

He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. ‘How about that?’ he says softly.

You smile and press a quick kiss to his lips. ‘You live up to your reputation, Fahey.’ you say. ‘You’re an excellent kisser.’

‘Just like I thought.’ says Jesper. ‘Do you want to stay here tonight?’

‘I would love to.’ you say.

You spend the rest of the night talking with Jesper until eventually, you feel yourself falling asleep. You feel how Jesper moves next to you, to take his spot on the floor again. You lay a hand on his arm to stop him, silently telling him it’s okay and that he doesn’t have to sleep on the floor.

Kaz wasn’t the right match for you, Inej is. But Jesper certainly is your match.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

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whythinktoomuch · 3 years

Text

Tentatively stepping through the doorway, Lena was greeted by the natural wintry gleam of the Fortress of Solitude. She had only been there that one time all those months ago, but the surroundings appeared familiar enough, seemingly burned into her memories as a particularly difficult flashbulb of an experience.

Cold. Dimmed lighting. Wide open spaces that gave off the illusion of emptiness despite holding some of the most important secrets to be kept in the world.

And in the middle of it all, stood Kara Danvers, still dressed in her Super regalia, staring off into the distance like little else mattered.

“Kara.” Lena rushed forward, the clack of her heels bouncing off the polished walls in an anxious rhythm that rivaled that of her heart.

Kara looked over, blank expression slipping slightly. “Lena?” she murmured, sounding surprised, though not at all startled. “How’d you get out?”

“… Out?” Lena echoed, but Kara didn’t elaborate. Maybe the disconnect was to be expected though, and there were more important things at stake for the moment, so, “Kara, you need to come back.”

“Back.” Kara chewed on the word, tasting the implications like they weren’t quite to her liking. Then she gave a single nod. “Oh. I see.” And with that, Kara turned her back on Lena and walked right off, right into the distance that gradually converged into a yawning doorway.

Lena had no choice but to chase after her. “I know why you’re doing this, Kara. And you have to know that it wasn’t your fault. None of it was.”

Kara didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. Her silence was already speaking volumes just by stretching on and on, running parallel to the seemingly never-ending hallway.

“Will you at least explain what you’re doing here?” Lena demanded, her patience eaten up by a sense of urgency that was somehow eluding Kara. Time was of the utmost importance—that much had been impressed upon her repeatedly and emphatically before she made this journey. “Look, I’m not going to leave until you talk to me.”

Mild amusement flitted over Kara’s features as she looked back at Lena. “How’d you even get here?”

“Does it matter?”

“No.”

Then when Kara made no move to continue their conversation, Lena sighed in exasperation, “I have my ways, okay?”

“Of course you do,” Kara said easily. “I’m just… surprised that they’d send you, of all people.”

“I volunteered to come. Well, I insisted anyway.”

Kara glanced back at her again, expression now unreadable. “We’re not even friends anymore,” she said, matter-of-fact, no malice intended or needed. “We haven’t talked for—what—six months? I guess what I’m trying to say is that, you wouldn’t have been my first pick.”

“And I’m sure the many people who were opposed to my coming here would agree,” Lena said, but Kara didn’t take the bait, falling silent once more. “Where are we going anyway? What’s down here that’s so important that you have to see it right now?”

Kara took an abrupt left turn, and the hallway opened up just as abruptly into an endless series of shut doors, all evenly spaced out along either wall. Each door was fashioned with its own nameplate, which was of little interest to Lena until she started recognizing the names. By then—trailing behind Kara, passing by doors that read James, Winn, Kal-El, and a few with lettering that could only be Kryptonian—it became all too clear why they were there.

Lena’s sense of purpose was renewed, however, when Kara walked right past a door labeled Alex without slowing. “Wait, that’s where we have to go,” she called out in realization. “We need to get to Alex, right? Right, Ka—Kara! Hey, where are you going?”

But Kara evidently wasn’t listening, her stride only cut short upon arriving at another door altogether. The door was plain and simple enough, except in that it was one of the very few without its own handle. The name Mon-El was etched into the dull gold, just barely catching in the light at eye level.

“They disappear sometimes,” Kara said. “The doorknobs, I mean. Well, the doors too, but there’s always another to replace them so… it’s hard to keep track.”

Lena tried her best to not acknowledge the predictable twinge of nausea that twisted in her stomach. “What’s in there?”

“When I could still open it, I’d just see his spaceship disappearing into the horizon.” Kara shrugged. “I’m sure there were other things too, but it’s been years.”

“… Kara, let’s get back to Alex’s door,” Lena said, clearing her throat, ridding herself of any lingering pangs of unjustified jealousy. “It still has a doorknob, so we can still get in there, right? That’s what that means?” But Kara was ignoring her. Again. “Are you even listening to me right now?”

“You say that to me a lot in here.”

And just as Lena was about to ask what the hell Kara possibly could mean by that, she noticed yet another door, just a bit farther down the hall, literally with her name on it.

“You can go in there, I think,” Kara continued, shrugging again. “There aren’t really any hard and fast rules here, but that might be the only door you can open without me.”

Lena, inevitably, took a pause.

Her door appeared more intricate the longer she studied it. The rich, glossy oak with accents of rose gold. The plumerias carved into the wood at every corner. A touch of cursive to her name, lovingly engraved across the polished nameplate. It had a delicate padlock that looked more decorative than practical, but Lena already knew that it would fall away for her, if she wanted.

Admittedly, it took a rather lengthy moment for Lena to successfully tear her eyes away from the door. “That’s not why I’m here.”

“Well, there isn’t much else I can give you besides that,” Kara said, promptly moving on, venturing deeper into the hallway that only opened up to more and more hallway with a seemingly inexhaustible supply of doors.

“Kara, stop…” Lena abandoned her door to chase after Kara again. “I’m serious,” she pleaded, seizing Kara by the elbow, tugging insistently. “Let’s go through the Alex door. We can go together.”

Kara shook her head, shaking her arm when Lena refused to loosen her grip. “Let go,” she snapped, eyes briefly flashing red, and Lena unfortunately flinched away from her. Huffing hard, Kara then pivoted away, slipping through the closest door and Lena slipped in right after her before it could swing shut.

The whole world was on fire.

Proud buildings coming down in flames. Air condensed into a thick black smoke. Everyone dying around her…

Coughing, Lena was immediately forced to press her sleeve to her mouth and nose. The door was nowhere to be seen. After a more thorough survey of her surroundings, she finally noticed a slumped figure in the relative distance. It was hard to make out anything in the light of the fading red that made up the sky, but who else could it be? Lena made her way over.

Thankfully, Kara wasn’t too far. She was just sitting atop a darkened precipice, arms around her knees as she watched the world die before her.

“This…. is Krypton,” Lena said as she realized. “Kara. You can’t stay here. This can’t be healthy…”

“And you, of course, would be the resident expert on keeping healthy habits,” Kara said, and her sarcasm didn’t even need a bitter tone to land.

And that about settled it.

Lena grabbed a piece of smoldering debris—still warm, somewhat spongey, surely not fatal—and lobbed it as hard as she could at the back of Kara’s head.

The projectile bounced off harmlessly enough, but Kara slowly turned around, eyes widened. “Ow…?” She pressed a hand gingerly to the back of her head, no doubt still tender from the blow. “What are you doing? The sun isn’t yellow here!”

“None of this is even real!” Lena snapped, and to prove it, she lifted a much larger piece of debris that normally would have buckled her with its mass. When she sent that hunk of rock sailing through the air, Kara finally demonstrated some life and dove out of the way.

“What the hell, Lena?” Kara said, some frustration and thus vigor breaking through the monotony. “What are you doing here? Why did you even come?”

“I want to see what’s behind Alex’s door!” Lena threw back, just as frustrated and then some. “What is this, Kara? Behind one door, you see your home planet imploding. Behind another, you see the man you loved leaving you forever. So, what the hell could possibly be happening in the one for your sister? Whose life, by the way, is still hanging in the balance, in case you forgot.”

Kara huffed, whirling away. “That’s none of your business.”

“You made it my business by fucking off to wherever this is,” Lena said, fighting to maintain eye contact as Kara tried repeatedly to turn her back on her. “You made it my business by making me come after you! So, just do me one fucking favor, and just tell me—”

“I kill her.”

Lena fell silent, blinking, the soundtrack to her sudden hesitation coming alive in the sounds of the world burning up around her.

“I kill her in there. Over and over and over again.” Kara’s words were falling out like she couldn’t stop them, an outpouring of shame and relief rolled into one. “She dies by my hand, only to die all over again, and again, and—”

“Okay, I get it,” Lena hastily cut in. “Well, no. I don’t get it, get it, but… what do you mean you kill her? How…?”

Kara covered her face with a sharp exhale. “Lots of ways! Heat vision. Super strength. Sometimes I’m just throwing her off a building. Other times, I’m choking the life out of her with my bare….” She broke off, voice drying up. “I don’t want to go in there, okay? Stop asking me.”

“Kara, this… this is ridiculous,” Lena eventually sputtered. “Alex isn’t dead. She’s hurt bad, yeah, but how could you possibly give up on her when—”

“Because it doesn’t matter,” Kara said flatly. “Because if not now, it’ll be some other time. She’ll die, and it’s going to be all my fault.”

“But what happened to her isn’t your fault.”

Kara sighed, heavily and exhausted, and suddenly she looked every bit the lonely woman who’d lost everything in a way only few people have. “Lena… Everything down here’s my fault.”

Her entire body sagged then, and she was back on the ground, curled up and watching the horizon again. So, Lena just walked over and sat next to her.

Everything was steadily plunging into darkness. There were more cracks ripping apart the earth than there were buildings, people, or even life in general. The fire climbed higher and everything was smothered in smoke, but all Lena had to do was consider taking a clean breath of air, and she could.

“What happens when it’s over?” Lena asked.

“Just starts up all over again.”

“Okay then.”

After a while, when the sky was too obscured to distinguish from the ground, Kara directed her gaze to her own feet. “… You ever think about what yours would look like?”

“My mind palace, you mean?” Lena asked, and Kara nodded. “Oh, I already know. Boxes.”

Kara exhaled a dry chuckle or two. “Boxes? That’s it?”

“Maybe some filing cabinets too. Just to keep everything organized,” Lena said, and she was mostly joking, but also not. “Boxes just always worked for me.”

“… Is there a box in there with my name on it?”

Lena blew out a breath, shakily laughing at the self-evidence of it all. “Of course there is, Kara.” Maybe even more than one, though they didn’t have to get into that now, or ever.

“Do you want to know what happens behind your door?” Kara asked haltingly, gaze still dropped.

“Not at all. I’m sure whatever it is, I’ve imagined much worse on my own terms,” Lena said, and Kara kinda laughed again, but wouldn't disagree. “… You know what happened to Alex wasn’t your fault, right?”

“Might as well have been. Should’ve been there.”

“You can’t be everywhere at once, Kara. That can’t be expected of anyone, even Supergirl.” And when Kara gave no indication that she was listening, Lena continued with a sigh, “If Alex could be here, she’d say the same exact thing. Though I’m sure she’d include some Midvale lingo and much more swearing.”

“What’s Midvale lingo?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be above using it right now.”

Kara didn’t laugh this time, just nodded solemnly before asking, “How long have I been in here?”

“You’d been out for almost six hours when I made my way over.”

“Did Alex improve at all while I’ve been gone?”

“That’s not really a thing you can tell just by looking,” Lena said vaguely. She didn’t want to lie, but she also didn’t want to give Kara any reason to stay behind.

But Kara looked at her like she knew exactly what Lena was trying not to say. She’d always been so good at reading Lena, or maybe Lena had always been so bad at hiding things from Kara. Either way, if only it had been vice versa, maybe they’d be on better terms now.

“I don’t want to come back just to watch her die. I’ve already done that too many times in here.”

“If she does die, you’re going to regret not being there.”

The ground underneath them started to crumble and come apart, falling in on itself, and Kara watched it happen with disinterest while Lena just watched Kara. But eventually, finally, Kara seemed to come to a real decision because she carefully took Lena’s hand in hers, and Lena let her.

“… Thank you for coming,” Kara said quietly, barely audible over the world falling apart.

“Thank you for coming back.”

They watched the last of the world collapse around them, swallowing them up in a pitch darkness.

Lena jerked awake with a gasp in her corner of the room, but everyone was by Kara, clamoring around her, greeting her with words of worry and such. And Lena just nodded to herself because everything was back to being how it should.

She disengaged the electrodes and pulled the wires off her head, and Brainy appeared by her bedside to help her remove the last of it.

“You were successful,” he said. “I knew you would be. You had the best chances of getting her out of that state, though 67% of the people in this room did think differently. But thank you for bringing her back.”

“I didn’t do a thing,” Lena said honestly. She glanced down at her watch out of habit, and the numbers blurred and made little sense to her weary brain, but it was time to leave. That much was obvious. “It’s late. I should get going.”

“You don’t want to talk to Kara?”

Lena looked over, and just past Nia’s shoulder, she saw Kara staring right at her. “I think she has better things to do tonight,” she said, stepping into her heels, neatly pulling her hair into a tidy bun. “Please give our hero my best, and… keep me apprised of Alex’s condition as well.”

Pausing on her way out, Lena threw back one last glance. Kara was still staring at her. Her mouth was moving and answering questions as they were offered up by the people around her, but her eyes would only meet Lena’s from across the room. Kara half-raised her hand in a subtle gesture, and Lena took the wave for what it was and turned on her heel to leave, refusing to entertain the persistent itch to look back the entire time.

#post-reveal/fallout but pre-make-up sc is where i Live #not sure what this is but it sure is a thing huh #ALSO THE NEW POST LIMIT WOULD HAVE TOTES KNEECAPPED THIS; had to turn off the beta version to post!! >:(#i hate!!! >:(((#my words.

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shoutaaizawas · 4 years

Text

↳ pro!hero bakugou katsuki x reader → safe

summary: you broke up with bakugou a month ago but you’re terrified and he’s the only person you can call tags/warnings: stalker and confrontation with said stalker, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending word count: 2,698 a/n: this is different from what i usually write but i like the way it came out.

Bakugou had been miserable for the past month. It was so stupid, he couldn’t even remember what the fight had been about. Maybe he had been too busy at work, wasn’t making enough time for you, or maybe he had said something rude without thinking. Whatever it was it had gotten out of hand so quickly. He said stuff he didn’t mean and before he knew it he was walking out of your shared apartment. He had been crashing at Kirishima’s apartment for the time being, he refused to get any of his stuff from his place. If he did that it felt like putting a nail in the coffin that was your relationship.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, your name popped up on the screen and he sighed. You were probably calling about getting his stuff, you had texted him before about it. He knew that ignoring you wasn’t the best tactic at getting back together but at this point, he didn’t know what to do. He tossed his phone down and went to the other room to finish doing his laundry.

He hated what happened, he hated being away from you. He couldn’t sleep, he could barely eat and it was starting to catch up to him. He felt sluggish and worn down and it was starting to affect his work. He needed to apologize but every time he wanted to call you he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Bakugou knew he would settle things with you eventually but it would take time. He didn’t want to lose you, you were his everything. You had been with him for so long, always supporting him and comforting him when he needed it but refused it from anyone else. He refused to lose you.

Bakugou would apologize to you, he just didn’t know when.

It had started a few days after Bakugou left, photos on your kitchen counter. At first, you thought Bakugou had been by when you were out and left something. Your heart fluttered in your chest, did he leave some thoughtful apology? You were dying to be back with him again but you couldn’t forgive him until he at least showed he was sorry.

Your heart dropped and froze in fear. They were pictures of you, leaving the house, ordering coffee, at work. There was a note with them. Finally he’s gone, you deserve better. Your hands shook as you held it up looking for any clue who left them but there weren’t any. You had gone to the police but they said there was nothing they could do until there was more evidence.

Maybe it was a sick prank from a friend. No, none of your friends would think that was okay. You prayed it was a one-time thing but a week later there were more. The photos were recent, from the day before. I’ve been watching you for a long time, we haven’t met but we will soon. The note made bile rise in your throat. You thought about calling Bakugou but your pride was still too strong and you couldn’t ask for Kirishima’s help either since you knew he was sheltering Bakugou at the moment. You knew the red-head wouldn't keep the information from him.

Another week and more photos. I love you, I’ll make you so happy. You already could barely sleep without Bakugou but with this fear gripping you, you couldn’t get any now. Every noise in the house, every shadow that moved nearly sent you into a panic attack. The police wouldn’t help, you felt so helpless.

It was dark out as you walked home from work. Your phone rang and you were quick to pick it up hoping it was Bakugou. You would give anything to feel safe in his arms again, to spend the evening watching TV curled up on the couch, to fall asleep on his chest lulled to sleep by the sound of his heart beating.

“It’s time. It’s finally time for us to meet, my love. I can’t wait.” The voice that came through the phone was unfamiliar but you immediately knew it was the man who had been stalking you. Before you could say anything he hung up.

Your heart was pounding out of your chest and you couldn’t breathe. You were terrified, more than you ever had been in your entire life. You called the only person that ever made you feel safe, stubbornness be damned. You knew he was always there for you, that he would protect you from anything even after everything that happened.

Bakugou’s phone rang and rang but there was no answer. You called him over and over but he didn't pick up. Tears began to stream down your face. Was he still so mad at you that he wouldn't answer your call? Or was he indifferent to you? Had he moved on? The thought of him at dinner with another woman denying your calls as you feared for your life sent a sting of pain through your chest. You kept calling as you reached your apartment, locking the door and putting a chair in front of it. If he had a key maybe that would help block it. You kept calling, praying that he would pick up. Hands shaking around your cell phone.

The doorknob turned and your heart stopped, the door opened but was stopped by the chair you had propped against it.

“What do you want?” Bakugou’s tone was harsh as usual.

“K-Katsuki, please oh my god. Help me please.” You sobbed into the phone. Fear and relief flooding through you. You were in danger now more than before but you had finally gotten ahold of Bakugou. “T-There’s a man trying to get into the h-house, he’s been stalking m-me.” You gasp through sobs.

“Let me in, love.” The man's voice comes through the door as it shakes and the chair begins to wiggle loose.

“Barricade the door then find somewhere to hide.” Bakugou is breathing heavy, you can hear his footsteps through the phone and you already know he’s on his way. Kirishima’s apartment isn’t far away but you wonder if Bakugou will be fast enough.

You slide a dresser from entryway in front of the door before darting off to your bedroom and diving to the ground. You crawl underneath the bed, the phone still clutched in your hand. You can hear Bakugou’s explosions, you know that he’s trying to get there as fast as possible. All he can hear are your sobs.

“Are you hidden?” He asks trying to keep his voice calm for you.

“Y-Yeah.” You answer, in the living room you can hear the furniture in front of the door being thrashed around. “I-I think he’s g-going to get in. Katsuki I’m so scared.” You cry. Tears are pouring down your face and terror has enveloped you fully. You wonder if this is the last time you’ll get to speak with the love of your life.

“I’m almost there okay, you’re going to be okay.” He says but you can still hear a tinge of fear in his voice. "Just take deep breaths okay, I won't let him hurt you."

"O-Okay," Your words are shaky but you try to do as he says.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I should be there at home with you. I should be protecting you. I didn’t mean anything I said. I love you so much.” He sounds so sad, so scared. It’s not a tone you hear from him often.

“I’m sorry, I should have said it sooner. Katsuki-”

A crash echoes through the house and you know that he’s inside.

“He’s inside, oh my god. He’s in our house.” You can’t help but cry, trying to keep your voice down.

“Just stay quiet, I’m almost there,” Bakugou begs.

You’re curled up under the bed, one hand clutching your phone to your ear and the other gripping the carpet for dear life. You try to keep your breaths shallow, hold in your sobs but you let a quite whimper out.

“You don’t have to be scared, my love.” The voice is in the room with you.

“Katsuki, I love y-” You whisper into the phone but it's cut off by your scream as you feel the man pull you by your ankle dragging you out.

“No!” Is the last thing you hear Bakugou scream through the phone as it clatters onto the ground.

Bakugou’s heart is pounding out of his chest. He’s almost there, running up the stairs to your floor faster than he’s ever moved before. This was all his fault, if only he had apologized then he would be home keeping her safe. If something happened to her, if she died- There would be no forgiveness for him. He wouldn’t deserve it. Every step he beats himself up more and more. Why hadn’t he just said sorry and gone home? It wasn’t worth their relationship and it wasn’t worth your safety.

He thinks about the ten missed calls he saw on his phone before picking up, he thinks about how scared you must have been thinking that no one would help you. Did you think he abandoned you? That he was ignoring you while you were terrified?

He finally gets to your floor, the door to your apartment is wide open and there's furniture scattered in the entryway. A piercing scream sends shivers down his spine. If he leaves a mark on you he won’t hesitate to kill him.

“Stop struggling, I’m here to help you. You deserve someone who cherishes you.” He hears a man’s voice from their bedroom. As he enters he sees the man shaking you harshly against the wall.

“You bastard, get your filthy hands off of her.” He growls out and he’s tearing him off of you before he realizes that Bakugou had entered.

All Bakugou can see is red as throws him to the ground. In a flash he's on top of him, punch after punch, blood covering his face. He can’t hold back, he can’t stop thinking about what could have happened if he was too late. Images of you harmed in different ways flash through his mind and it pushes him further.

“Katsuki-” Your quiet, broken voice pulls him from his cloud of violence. His attacks stop as he turns to look at you. You're on the floor against the wall, hands around your knees and your shaking so bad. Tears are running down your face non-stop and it breaks his heart more than anything ever has. He’s never seen you so scared in his whole life.

Katsuki can hear help arriving and he knows it’s safe for him to get up, the stalker is out cold on the ground covered in his own blood. He doesn’t deserve any more time from him. Not when the love of his life needs him.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” Bakugou’s voice is soft as he gets on the ground with you, his hands reach out gingerly to brush against your shaking arms trying his best to soothe you. “I’m so sorry this is all my fault.”

You reach out grasping onto him like he’s a raft in the middle of the ocean. He envelops you in his arms and you feel a wave of relief rush over you. You’re safe now. Bakugou’s here and you're in his arms. No one can hurt you anymore. His hand smooths the hair down at the back of your head and your breathing begins to calm.

Bakugou had called for backup, they had taken the attacker away and sat you down to ask some questions before they left.

You sat at your dining room table next to Bakugou and it suddenly was so quite. Furniture still laid across the floor, you couldn’t look at the door without thinking of the fear that flooded you.

“Let’s go to a hotel for tonight,” Bakugou says softly and you remember just how perceptive he is. “I’ll grab you a bag of your stuff.” He says before giving you a glass of water. “Just try and relax, I’ll be quick.”

Bakugou doesn’t take long before he returns with two duffel bags and your favorite pillow in hand.

“C’mon baby.” He says taking your hand in his.

The hotel room is nice, far nicer than it needs to be. At the top of the building, you can peer out of floor-to-ceiling windows at the skyline. There’s a lot of space in the room itself decorated with nice furniture.

The bed is big and looks inviting especially with how tired your feeling right now. Bakugou is behind you, his hand running down your arm softly.

“Do you want to take a bath before bed?” He asks and you nod.

Bakugou leads you into the bathroom and starts the water. The tub is large and fancy, nice soaps and shampoos on the edge. He puts some soap in the water, bubbles forming.

“I’ll grab your bedclothes.” He says leaving the room. You strip down and get into the warm water. You close your eyes, sitting there with your knees drawn to your chest. The day is so unreal, it’s almost easy to pretend that you were just here with Bakugou for an anniversary or a trip. But the events of the day edge there way back into your mind.

“Shh,” You hear Bakugou shush you his hand rubbing the back of your neck. You didn’t realize he had returned, and you didn’t realize the tears streaming down your cheeks. He sits on the floor next to the tub, leaning over to press a kiss against your forehead.

He helps you wash your hair and dry off when you’re ready. He’s brought your favorite pair of bedclothes and you change into them. Both of you get ready for bed.

The bed is comfortable as it looks. Getting under the large fluffy covers is comforting. Bakugo slides in beside you. You don’t hesitate to scoot towards him till you’re pressed against his side.

“I can’t go back to our house.” It’s hard to come to terms with and even harder to say. A part of you is scared Bakugou will say that he isn’t coming back to you, that he can take the apartment and you can find someone else to live. You’re tearing up before he can even say anything.

His hand is against your cheek, wiping away the tears there as he draws you to his chest.

“We can look for a new place tomorrow.” He says simply. “That place was starting to feel too small anyway.”

“T-Thank you.” Your words are shaky as you look up at him. He pulls you onto his chest, his hand rubbing your back.

“I’m sorry.” He says. “I’m sorry about what I said to you, I’m sorry for leaving, I’m sorry for not apologizing sooner. I failed you, I promised to protect you no matter what and I let you down.” His voice is hoarse with emotions.

“You saved me Katsuki.” You tell him.

“I should have been there, if I was there he never would have tried anything, and if he did he wouldn’t have gotten past the door.”

“What happened tonight was bad but I feel better knowing that he’s going to be locked away. If this didn’t happen I would have had someone stalking me and I never would have known.” You tell him. The thought of going about your life unknowingly being followed makes you sick.

“I’ll never leave you again. I promise you that. I’ll always be by your side.” He says, pulling you even closer. “I love you so much.” His eyes are pressed closed and you can practically feel the love coming off of him.

“I love you, Katsuki.” You return and your heart flutters at his declarations.

It would take a long time to recover from everything that had happened today but you know that Bakugou will be by your side through it all. That when he holds you in his arms it’s like a shelter from a raging storm.

You know that Bakugou Katsuki will always keep you safe.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #katsuki #bakugo

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lucyintheskywithxanax · 3 years

Text

I Saw You Trying, My Love

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

A/N: ok so this is long, and angry. It all happened because I really wanted to explore the headcanon that Wilhemina would be very possessive and very jealous if she were in a relationship. How would that relationship work? Could it work? I hope you’ll enjoy this piece, lovelies <3

Word count: ~ 8 200

“And what do you think you’re doing?”

Wilhemina’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and angry.

You ignored her. You kept shoving the contents of your wardrobe into your bag.

“I said, what do you think you’re doing?”

“I heard you the first time,” you snapped. You threw one last pair of socks – your favourite, fluffy and glittery – into your bag and gave it a shake. “I thought you’d have figured it out by now.”

You zipped up your bag and stomped past Wilhemina out of the room you had shared with her for the past two months. She must have realized how serious you were, by then, because she followed close behind you. She had never done that before when you had had a fight. She was too proud to run after you like a desperate child. Usually she would let you walk off and wait for you to blow off steam. But today, the sound of her cane followed you down the stairs and into the living room as you went around it, grabbing items you would need – your book, your glasses, your phone charger. Wilhemina’s watch. You threw that back on the couch when you realized what it was.

“Has your brain turned to mush? Where do you plan to go? You have nowhere to go to, Y/N.”

Wilhemina positioned herself in the doorway, blocking your way, both her hands gripping her cane. You came to a halt in front of her and scowled.

“I’m not a baby, Wilhemina,” you retorted, your face mere inches from hers. Your words were thick with anger. “I’ll get along just fine without you. Actually, I’ll be better off without you. Now move.”

She stood her ground, glaring back at you.

“What are you gonna do?” you hissed. “Uh? Lock me up? Bring me food once a day, torture me? Are you going to lock me up in here until you break me and turn me into the obedient pet you wish I were?” You paused to take a breath. “Is that your plan, Mina, my love?” You all but spat the last two words at her like a curse.

For a second you recoiled. You hadn’t meant to do that, turn a term of endearment, a promise of care and tenderness whispered so many times before to soothe and comfort and reassure, into poison. But on second thought, you were glad you had. She deserved the sting.

“I don’t –“she started, but you interrupted her.

“For God’s sake I have the right to spend time with my friends! Not all my life revolve around you, Wilhemina! You cannot keep me with you every minute of every day like a fucking dog!” A fresh bout of fury rose to your head and took control of you. “I can spend time with other people, I can enjoy myself without you! But what I can’t stand is you snapping at me and calling me names every time I so much as smile to someone else! I’ve had enough.” You lowered your arms in defeat, shaking your head at her. “I’ve had enough. I’m leaving. Move.”

Wilhemina’s face was hard and angry, her jaw clenched tight, her poise proud and dominating, but her eyes – you had always been able to tell what she truly felt by looking into her eyes. They were your favourite thing to stare at, not only because it was so easy to get lost in them, but because they were the key to understanding her. The key that opened the safe where she hid herself when she did not know how to communicate or thought she had to lie to keep herself safe. Her eyes were always, always honest. Especially with you. You took one look at them now and then had to look away before your resolve left you.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“To Maggie’s place.”

Wilhemina scoffed bitterly. “Why, of course. Right into the arms of the daft prostitute.”

“Mina she’s my best-friend since high-school,” you growled, raising your free hand to rub your forehead in frustration. “Please don’t insult her.”

“And what a friend indeed. Always so eager to please, so eager to have you all by herself so that she can lay her dirty little hands on your arm or - ”

“This is what best-friends do!” you roared.

Wilhemina didn’t even flinch.

“Why don’t you screw her tonight?”

“Alright, you – you know what, I’ve had enough.”

You pushed past her, and you must have been too brutal, or maybe she had been unsteady to begin with; in any case, she dropped her cane, and her knees gave way. She winced as she braced herself for the fall, for the pain – but you wrapped your arms around her waist to support her, and held her against you. “I’ve got you,” you whispered into her hair.

Time froze. Silence fell. You closed your eyes, nuzzling your nose in her hair. What were you doing? Leaving her? Ridiculous. As if you could live without her. You pressed her closer against you, feeling like you could burst into laughter at your own excessive behavior. This was just like any other fight you had had with Wilhemina before, nothing you could not mend. Leaving this house, leaving this woman, had never been an option. It would mean leaving your heart. Leaving a part you wouldn’t – couldn’t – survive without.

You dropped a kiss on her forehead and were about to pull away. To cup her face and kiss her mouth and laugh with her at how stupid, how childish you were.

But then you remembered. All the times she had gone too far. All the snapping and the hurting and the possessive, jealous, unhealthy behavior. Earlier this afternoon she had slapped one of your coworkers and friends for “standing too close to you”. It was the first time she had used physical violence. The last straw.

You knew where it all came from, the insecurity and the fear and the pain. But that did not make it acceptable.

Gently, you let her go, picked up your bag and made for the front door.

“Y/N?”

She followed you down the corridor, stopped a few inches away from you as you turned the key in the lock. You felt her hand brush your elbow, but she did not touch you. Somehow it was this, her hesitation, that broke your heart.

“Don’t come after me,” you told her over your shoulder.

“Y/N don’t you dare –“

You opened the door, ignoring her, closing your eyes against the setting sun and the tears that were starting to pool. Wilhemina’s voice rose behind you again, not angry anymore, but shaking, and terrified. She was terrified.

“Y/N don’t you – “

You slammed the door behind you and ran down the driveway to your car, afraid you’d turn back and fall into her arms if you stopped for one second.

It hurt. It felt like your heart had been torn out of your chest. You opened the door of your car with shaky hands, sobs wracking your body, barely seeing anything through your tears.

You didn’t remember much after that. You must have driven all the way to Maggie’s. Knocked on her door, with your bag in one hand and sobs bubbling out of your throat. She must have let you in, asked you, were you alright, was Wilhemina alright – perhaps she hugged you. Certainly she made you some tea, for Maggie was one of those people who believe tea can make everything better. As if you had not irremediably broken what you cherished most.

You must have drunk your tea, to please Maggie.

The bed in her spare room was big and comfortable. The sheets smelt of fresh peaches. You spent the rest of the evening cocooned in their warmth, alternating between dozing and sobbing into the pillows. When night fell, Maggie brought you dinner on a tray. She sat beside you as you swallowed what your stomach could hold. And then she asked you what had happened.

You hadn’t been able to tell her yet. You’d thought that, perhaps, if you kept it a secret, your leaving Wilhemina wouldn’t be real. You would be able to go back home and find her there waiting for you. She would rise when she’d hear you come in, and she would smile that fond smile of hers and wrap you up in her arms and kiss you slow and sweet. Somehow, all of your problems would be gone.

It didn’t work like that. You knew it didn’t. But still, you couldn’t help but hope.

Maggie didn’t believe you, at first. She gawked at you, then narrowed her eyes and scrutinized your face. She was naive, Maggie. Very romantic. She believed love was stronger than everything else. She had spent five minutes with you and Wilhemina and proclaimed with tears in her eyes that she had never seen two people more in love. It simply wasn’t possible for you to be without Wilhemina, and for Wilhemina to be without you. You would cease to exist. The world would explode.

But then, as you dissolved into tears again, unable to finish your story as you desperately clang to her, her face fell. She let out a small “oh” that sounded so surprised, so final, so defeated. It rang in your ears like a bell mourning death.

You didn’t go to work the day after. Nor the day after that. You knew Wilhemina would be at Kineros, knew she was too hardworking to even consider taking a day off. Hell, Wilhemina could be dying of pneumonia, she would still drive to work and sit at her desk and boss everyone around. Throwing snarky comments like knives at frightened employees, making sure everyone was doing their jobs. You could picture her, sitting straight and proud in her chair, with her cane leaning against her desk and her hair tied in that high ponytail you loved so much, for it accentuated her sharp cheekbones. Had she taken off the photograph on her desk? Of you and her, on a sunny day in the countryside a year ago, a few days after you had started dating. Your hand on her cheek, your teeth on her chin, her eyes half-closed and crinkled up with laughter.

You wouldn’t have gone to work even if Wilhemina hadn’t been there. There was no point anymore. You had never really cared for the job anyway. The only thing that had made life interesting had been Wilhemina.

So you spent hours in bed until the sheets no longer smelt of fresh peaches but of your sweat and tears. You went for a run with Maggie. You tried to keep yourself busy, read a book, watched movies, cleaned Maggie’s house. You knew you couldn’t spend the rest of your life at Maggie’s, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

It became harder to get up in the morning. Harder to fall asleep at night. So you daydreamed and thought of Wilhemina. To soothe the pain of her absence. You thought of her face in the morning, still soft from sleep. That magic moment when she would wake and those big, brown, doe eyes of hers would meet yours and smile. How deftly she would do her hair, ponytail always perfectly centered. How sometimes, while she waited for the water to boil for her tea, she would stare out the window and get lost in the view.

One day it struck you how often Maggie did touch you. She was a very touchy-feely person, had always been: she would pat your shoulder or hold your hand or stroke your arm or kiss your cheek. It was innocent, she behaved like that with everyone. But now you realized how it must have looked to someone as insecure as Wilhemina.

Maggie was beautiful. All blue eyes and soft strawberry blond locks and pink cheeks and pretty flowery dresses. She was soft, and selfless, and very kind, and everyone adored her. She taught French at the University. Had a fiancé, wanted to start a family. Exercised every day. She was normal and healthy – more than that, she was perfect in every way. No rough edges, no high walls, no back pains that kept her up all night, no early appointments to the doctor’s, no days that could be ruined by one glance at her reflection in the mirror. Maggie had found her place in the world and the world cherished her.

And yet – and yet how brighter Wilhemina shone in your head. She was a lighthouse, Maggie a candle. How much more precious and rare Wilhemina was. There were a million things in her that singled her out as one of the most fascinating person you had met. How she could make a witty comment on something the likes of Maggie would never notice in the first place. How she would stare right into the eyes of whatever scared her and defeat it with patience and determination. How deeply, how fiercely she loved.

On the eighth morning without her you woke up completely panicked and haunted by the knowledge that she was hurting on her own. She would never tell anyone she needed help, she had never allowed anyone but you to see her vulnerable. She would push on through her days as if everything was perfectly fine and go back every night to a dark, cold, lonely house where everything would remind her of you. Did she get enough sleep? Was she even eating? It seemed likely to you she would use food deprivation to punish herself. Eating the bare minimum to make it through the day without collapsing.

You asked Maggie to check on her. She drove to your house one evening and came back in a sour mood. Oh, Wilhemina was just fine, she jeered. Her usual pleasant, cheerful self. She had opened the door, taken one look at her, and sent her off with a scoff. Maggie was so angry she spilled most of her drink on the floor. And despite it all, you couldn’t help but smile.

In the morning of the tenth day, after Maggie had gone to work, you came downstairs and slumped on the living room couch. It was a beautiful, sunny day, so you had opened all the windows and the front door to let the draft in. You prayed the fresh air would take away some of the ache in your chest. Or maybe a murderer would walk into the house and put an end to your misery.

You were starting to doze off when you heard a knock on the front door. You started, and sleepily called out “It’s open”.

Silence, as if whoever stood outside hadn’t quite made up their mind to come in yet. You yawned, scratched your head. The sound of a cane tapping on the floor filled the hall.

For a second you felt you were about to faint. Then your body sprang up, eyes wide-opened, heart pounding in your ears.

You sat down on a nearby chair facing the door. Ran a hand through your hair, straightened your clothes. You waited.

Tap. Tap. The sound of her cane brought tears to your eyes – for how you had missed it. Not so much the sound itself but the promise that came with it, seeing her, being with her. Love and happiness and everything that mattered in the world.

The tapping stopped. You raised your head. Your racing heart leaped out of your chest straight into her hands, like a fledgling that had left its nest too soon and flew back trembling and terrified to the safety of home. How stupid you had been to leave at all.

She stood in the doorway more beautiful than you remembered her, because so painfully missed, so hoped for, so loved.

She looked tired, but fine – not exhausted, not starved, not over-worked. Thank God. Some of the tension that had been building in your shoulders vanished. You searched her face for signs of emotions and truth behind her facade, but could find none. Even her eyes were inscrutable.

For a few, agonizingly long seconds you both stayed silent, glaring at each other, both of you too proud to lower your eyes or look away first. Then Wilhemina took a breath and opened her mouth, and your body leaned towards her in expectation.

“Your productivity at work this past week was astonishing,” she said.

Right. You straightened in your seat, and crossed your legs.

Wilhemina waited, but as no answer came from you she added: “Do you intend to get fired?”

“If you’ve come here to scold me, you can leave now,” you mumbled. Your hand started rubbing circles on your knee. “I’m not interested.”

Another pause. You picked a book on the coffee table and stared intently at it. The silence was painful. From the corridor came the ticking of the clock hung on the wall. You could just make out Wilhemina’s purple shoes and pale ankles out of the corner of your eye.

When the silence became intolerable, you tilted your head just enough to shoot her an angry glance and snapped: “Why are you here?”

Wilhemina tapped her cane threateningly on the floor. That didn’t faze you. Not anymore.

“I’m here,” she said in that low, slow voice she always used when she was mad, “as your superior and as Kineros Robotics’ HR manager, to remind you that you have a job and that you are expected to actually show up at your workplace.”

Was she getting enough sleep? Only now did you realize that she was leaning on her cane a bit more heavily than usual. Was her back hurting her? Did she even take her pain medicine? On several occasions before she had refused to, as a form of punishment against her disability. You had had to coax and beg for her to finally agree to swallow the pill.

“I expect you to answer me when I talk to you.” Wilhemina’s voice, sharp and angry, brought you back from your thoughts. You glanced up at her again.

“Yes, Ms Venable.”

“If you do not go back to work tomorrow I will have to dismiss you.”

“Yes, Ms Venable.”

“Your unjustified absence is quite simply intolerable.”

“Yes, Ms Venable,” you repeated.

Another pause. You had no idea what you were feeling anymore. Anger and irritation had subsided and been replaced by a sort of numbness that still had an aftertaste of want. You stared at the book, your fingers still rubbing circles on your knee as you listened to the ticking of the clock in the corridor.

Wilhemina spoke, and this time her voice wavered on the last word. “When are you coming back?”

She meant to work, of course. You lifted your head, met her eyes. She meant come home.

“I’m not coming back,” you answered, keeping your voice casual to hide the fact that your heart was breaking yet again, small pieces drifting away and colliding with each other.

“What do you want me to do?” Wilhemina cried, her eyes widening in exasperation. “Crawl at your feet and beg for mercy?”

She barely ever raised her voice. Her anger and contempt were always expressed in a dangerously slow and low tone. A high, raised voice meant she felt cornered. It meant her self-control was slipping away. It meant her facade was breaking.

You leaned towards her in your seat, hope seeping in your veins.

“How about you start by apologizing to Pat?” you said, as casually as before.

“Who’s Pat?”

“My co-worker and friend you so kindly slapped in the face last week. And to Eva, whose fingers you threatened to clip off one by one because she had the audacity to touch my hand. And to Maggie. You called her such terrible names when all she did was being there for me. Do you see the problem, Mina?”

Your little speech had made you angry again, bad memories flooding your brain, so it was a surprise when her nickname slipped out of your mouth. It seemed to quiet her for a second. Her shoulders relaxed. She even took a tentative step towards you. But then her face hardened again, and when she spoke her voice was back under control.

“I will do no such thing,” she snapped, tapping her cane on the floor. “All those idiots you mentioned had it coming.”

You sighed and slumped back into your seat. You knew what she was doing. Suddenly you were brought back to the first time she had allowed herself to be vulnerable in front of you. It had been one evening in the second week of your relationship. She had had a bad day, and her back was hurting her, and the only way she had found to express that – the only way she had known how – had been by snapping at you for overcooking the pasta. You had been about to snap back, when an apology had slipped out of her. Soft and unexpected. You had fallen silent in surprise. Her hands had started to fidget, and she had looked angry with herself, couldn’t meet your eyes, couldn’t find anything more to say, couldn’t stop fidgeting. So you had hugged her, run her a bath, made love to her, brushed her hair until most of the tension had left her body.

Snapping was her way of protecting herself, you knew that. But still – it hurt, and you had had enough.

“Well then, please, leave,” you mumbled, closing your eyes and raising one hand to pinch the bridge of your nose.

“So you can be in the delightful company of Maggie the Cat?” she snapped.

“Oh for God’s sake, Wilhemina,” you sighed, but she didn’t seem to hear you.

“Sweet, sweet Margaret,” she sneered, taking one more step towards you, her hands shaking. “With her sweet maiden face and her cheerful disposition. So charming, so lovely. She’s part of that disgusting group of radiant fools who will lead the world to its demise with their shallowness and their stupidity.”

You jumped to your feet. “Maggie is my friend,” you growled, planting yourself a few inches from her, your whole body hot with anger. “If you loved me as you claim you do, if you had an ounce of respect for me, you wouldn’t say such things about her!”

Something on her face changed at your words. You couldn’t tell what exactly, but a feeling of dread suddenly came over you.

Wilhemina tapped her cane on the floor, raised her chin and hissed, “Maybe I don’t. Love you, at all. Maybe I only used you for company.”

You took a step back, reeling as her words echoed in your head. You knew she was lying. What you two had shared had been too strong to be fake. She had trusted you with things and parts of herself she had never told or shown anyone before. She had let you love her and trusted you would not hurt her.

In a better world you would have been able to control your anger. You would have taken a few deep breaths to calm yourself and put your hands on Wilhemina’s shoulders and told her for the hundredth time what she obviously still needed to hear – that in your heart, Maggie did not hold a candle to her. That Maggie was your friend and you loved her, but not the way you loved Wilhemina. That you would go to Hell for her and beat Lucifer’s ass if it meant keeping her safe.

But this was the real world, where battered souls keep hurting each other. Anger burnt in you like a fire and filled your brain with smoke until you could no longer think. Only fight back.

“Maybe I did, too,” you snarled.

You saw her hesitate. You saw her snarky retort die on her lips as she took in your words. And for a moment it felt great. To know you could still affect her, still peel off her layers and press the pads of your fingers on bare skin. But you had only ever stroked before; never scratched.

The tap of her cane on the floor surprised you, for it sounded weaker than usual. It did not bounce off the walls but fell at her feet like a weak preemie and died.

“If you do not show up tomorrow at 8 then don’t bother coming back at all,” Wilhemina commanded. “Kineros will do just fine without you.”

She was staring at something above your left shoulder, and she was breathing too fast, as if she were trying very hard not to cry. When she felt your gaze on her face she briefly shifted her eyes to yours. She blinked, and a tear rolled down her cheek.

“Mina,” you started, taking a step towards her. She raised one hand to stop you.

“That will be all,” she said, and wiped the tear away.

You let her turn on her heel, walk down the corridor and close the front door behind her. You stood as if petrified in the middle of Maggie’s living room, until something in you broke. You grabbed the book on the coffee table, hurled it at the wall, and screamed.

When Maggie came home that evening, she walked into your room with a moody, “What happened to Virginia Woolf?” She waved the battered book at you until you turned and she saw your face.

“Oh, babydoll, what’s wrong?”

She held you as you sobbed and wailed. She stroked your hair and whispered sweet-nothings to calm you down. It only made you cry harder, for it reminded you of all the times Wilhemina had comforted you. How she, too, had held you close and tried to find the right words to stop your tears. But Maggie was taller and stouter. Her body did not fit yours as Wilhemina’s did. When you eventually took a long breath in through your nose, her perfume smelt wrong. Too sweet, too floral.

You didn’t show up at 8 at Kineros the day after. It had been hard to care before, now it was simply impossible. You stayed in bed, wishing you could disappear into the sheets. You ignored Maggie’s encouragements and reproaches. You didn’t care.

Maggie brought you water and food, which you nibbled at mechanically. Time passed. You dozed often, but never slept.

Time kept on passing. You waited. You weren’t quite sure for what.

On the third day your phone rang. You reached out for it, and accepted the call without looking at the screen.

“Hello?” you mumbled, your voice raspy from disuse.

“Oh, Y/N?” said a familiar voice. “I thought you were dead.”

“Jeff.” You closed your eyes. “Look,” you started, “I know I haven’t – “

“What have you done to Venable?” Jeff cut you off.

Your eyes opened. “What do you mean?” you asked, your grip on your phone tightening.

“She hasn’t shown up for the past three days.” There was a loud noise at the other end of the line, then Jeff’s voice again. “Last week she was even more bitchy than usual, and now she’s gone. I don’t know where the file I need is, I missed all of my appointments and what’s worse, we’ve run out of coke. I can’t be a genius if I’m not high. Y/N?”

You barely heard him call your name. You could barely breathe from fear.

“Y/N, you still here?”

“Yeah, I –“ You swallowed around the lump in your throat.“Are you sure she’s not at Kineros?”

“I’m at Kineros, Y/N, and Venable isn’t,” Jeff answered, annoyed. “Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but I won’t let your sapphic affairs ruin my company.”

“I – “You stood up on shaky legs. You had to move, you had to do something to keep the panic at bay. It wasn’t like Wilhemina to miss work. She’d rather die than shun her responsibilities. And three days in a row? Something must have happened to her. Your brain started making up all kinds of dreadful scenarios in which she had been hurt, hit by a car, abducted, in which she had locked herself up in her room without food or water, jumped from a bridge, bought a plane ticket to some faraway country where you would never find her.

“Y/N?” came Jeff’s voice, interrupting the mad race of your thoughts.

“Yes, I – “You forced yourself to take a deep breath. “Venable isn’t my responsibility,” you heard yourself say.

“Look, Y/N,” Jeff retorted, his voice growing angry. “You’re expendable, Venable is not. We need her. I don’t care what you do, but you better make sure she comes back tomorrow.” And with that he hung up.

For a few seconds you stood petrified with your phone still pressed against your ear. And then you jumped into action. You dressed, grabbed your handbag, flew down the stairs and in your haste nearly collided with the door of your car. You forced yourself to drive under the speed limit on your way to your house. Dying wouldn’t help.

Part of you realized that it felt good. The life pumping into your veins again. You felt like you had finally woken up.

You parked on the sidewalk in front of your house, too impatient to maneuver your car up the driveway. You ran to the door and knocked on it. You closed your eyes as you waited, panting. You sent a prayer to whomever you could think of – please let her be okay. You didn’t care how mad you were with her anymore. Just, let her be okay.

The door opened. You looked up.

Wilhemina was wearing an old, faded lilac sweater and a pair of black cotton shorts. Her hair was down. She had no make-up on. When her eyes met yours, her face didn’t harden or fall or change at all; she merely held your gaze, as if she were too tired or too numb to react.

“You’re here,” you breathed out in relief. You could have burst into tears of joy at the sight of her alive and safe.

“I only own one house,” she said dully.

“Right, of course, I know.” You scratched your head nervously. “Er, Jeff called. He’s, er, worried about you.”

Wilhemina watched you unblinkingly. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. It was all you could do to stop yourself from collapsing into her arms and kiss her senseless.

“He said you haven’t been to work for three days,” you tried.

“And why,” she said, “do you care?” There was no trace of animosity in her voice. In fact, there was nothing at all. No emotion. No life.

“He asked me to come check on you.”

Shit. You could have slapped yourself. Wilhemina’s face did harden, then, and she made as if to close the door, but before she had time to you cried out: “No, wait, that came out wrong. Please.” You held up a hand. Wilhemina waited. “He told me you hadn’t shown up in days, and I got worried. That’s why I came. Not because he asked me to.”

She watched you for a few seconds more, then lowered her gaze. Her left hand came up to fidget with the hem of her shorts. She looked so small in those clothes, so young and so fragile. Tears stung your eyes. You blinked them back.

“Can I come in?” you tried.

Her eyes met yours. Please, you begged her in your head. Please, let me in. Please, give us this chance to make it right. Your heart was beating so fast it was starting to hurt.

Eternity passed before she finally – oh what bliss! – stepped aside to let you in. You brushed past her, got a whiff of her perfume mixed with the faint smell of sweat. She ran a hand through her hair nervously, leaning slightly away from you to close the door.

The house was exactly as you had left it, and yet it looked so different. Quieter, somehow, and a bit battered, as if it had just come back from the battlefield to rest and mourn its departed friends. Your footsteps echoed loudly down the corridor as you walked to the living room. You took off your shoes and shoved them in a corner. To make a point. That you didn’t mean to leave until you had talked things through.

Wilhemina stopped in the doorway and waited.

“Um, thank you,” you mumbled. “For letting me in.” As if it weren’t your house, too. But that wasn’t the point.

Wilhemina nodded. Silence fell. You looked around the room nervously, at a loss for words.

“Are you okay?” you finally blurted out. Wilhemina glared at you. “Right. Sorry, stupid question.” You swallowed hard. “Have you, um, have you eaten? I could make something.”

“Who am I to stop you?” Wilhemina answered flatly. “We both know how you need to keep yourself busy when you’re nervous.”

“It’s not about me,” you countered. “I was wondering when you last ate, that’s all.”

She held your gaze for a few more seconds, then proceeded to walk around the room to rearrange things – a candle on a shelf, the cushions on the couch, anything. You watched her, noticed the slight shaking of her hand, how tightly she was gripping her cane. Her hair fell over her eyes as she leaned forward. She briskly pushed it back.

When there was nothing left for her to tidy, she sat on the couch and opened a book.

You stared at her profile, your hands twitching at your sides. Wanting nothing more than to reach out. Sit by her side. Hold her close. Sink into her warmth.

You cleared your throat, and went into the kitchen.

It did help, having something to do with your hands. It relieved some of the ache in your chest. You were too preoccupied to be creative, so you settled on frozen Yangzhou fried rice and an endive salad. Substantial, but easy to eat. In case she was feeling as nauseous as you were.

You were cutting the endives when you heard Wilhemina call from the other room. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Alright,” you called back, trying to catch a glimpse of her through the door. “It’ll be ready in twenty minutes.”

You listened to the sound of running water as the rice thawed out. Thought of the right words to say. Part of you wanted to forgive her without further ado and pretend nothing had happened. But that would only buy you more time. Until the next insult, the next fight. Anger swelled in you like a wave as you remembered Pat’s perplexed face, lifting a hand to his cheek where Wilhemina had hit him. His own outburst, “What the hell is wrong with her?!”, Wilhemina’s cold, unreadable expression. The fear in her voice when you had slammed the door behind you.

You closed your eyes and sighed. The only way you could think of to make things right was to have Wilhemina truly, fully open up to you. Convince her that sharing her fears with you would be better than lashing out on other people. Make her realize, and trust, that there was nothing you wanted in the world more than a future with her.

You turned off the heat under the rice and sat at the table as you waited for Wilhemina. Half an hour had passed since she had disappeared in the bathroom. She loved to take long showers, but she hated being late even more. You had told her she had twenty minutes; any other day, she would have made sure to be ready in fifteen.

You waited ten more minutes before you started to get truly worried. You walked to the foot of the stairs and called out her name. There was no answer. You called out again, louder. Silence mocked you.

You hurried up the stairs, your heart in your throat, and knocked on the bathroom door. “Mina? Are you alright?”

And still there was no answer. And you were starting to grow angry again, at her silence, at her shunning you, when you heard it. Faint and muffled, but unmistakable. A sob.

You opened the door and rushed into the room.

Wilhemina was sitting on the floor with her back against the tub and her face hidden in her hands. Her wet hair was dripping on her lap, soaking the purple bathrobe she was wearing. She must have dropped her cane, for it lay on the floor under the sink a few feet from her.

You rushed up to her and dropped on your knees.

“Baby,” you called, reaching for one of her wrists, “what happened? Are you hurt?”

You tried to gently pry her hands away to get a look at her face, but she didn’t let you. If anything, she stiffened and buried her face deeper in her hands.

Her shoulders shook as she tried to stifle the low, painful sobs that wracked her frail body. You gently brushed her hair back as you waited for her to calm down, not daring to wrap your arms around her, but dying to offer her comfort.

Eventually her sobs turned into sniffles and soft hiccups, and you asked her again what had happened.

“I dropped my cane,” came her answer, weak and muffled. “As I was getting out of the tub.” A shudder ran through her.

“I’m sorry,” she went on. “This…” She lifted one of her hands, then, to gesture at her body, and you caught a glimpse of her face, red and coated with tears. “You deserve so much better than this. Please, go back to Maggie.”

You blinked at her words, at the pain and anguish they expressed. How had it come so far? How blind had you been? Not to realize how insecure she was, how convinced she was she could never be enough. To the point that she had agreed with herself to let you go.

You shook your head sadly. “But Maggie’s not the one I want.”

She let out a small, pitiful noise at that, and dissolved into tears again. This time, you didn’t think. You scooted over and gathered her into your arms. She sank into you, her hands coming down to clutch your shirt, her face pressing against your chest. There was no restraint anymore. No trying to stifle her sobs or hold back her tears. She let it all out, sobs shaking her body as she sank deeper and deeper into you, as if she were desperate to make one, to leave herself behind and become part of you.

Her sobs grew louder, and she seemed to have lost all control on her breathing, a gasp in and out and out again without inhaling. She was working herself up in quite a state, so you did the only thing you could think of to help her calm down. You tipped her head up. Captured her lips with yours.

Her mouth was wet and hot and salty, but you didn’t care. You wanted so much more of it. It tasted like home, and love, and safety. You had missed it so much, kissing her, feeling her. Your hands came up to cup her face, fingers pressing on her drenched cheeks as you pulled her closer, humming softy into the kiss.

It did quiet her. Her breath hitched, her shoulders tensed, but then she was kissing you back fervently, as if her life depended on it. Maybe it did. You didn’t know anymore. You were only aware of the sweet warmth of relief coursing through your veins and making your head spin. And of something else, something that ached and throbbed – want. It frightened you, this level of want. Your whole body was burning and tingling with it. It wasn’t so much lust as merely wanting to hold her. To feel her again. Love her freely and endlessly.

Again it hit you how stupid you had been to think you could ever live without her.

When you broke the kiss for air, she let out a whine and immediately chased after you. She was still crying, hiccups rippling into your mouth, drenched skin rubbing against yours. She circled her arms around your neck and bit down on your lower lip, hard, as if to mark you hers. A vampire bite, to contaminate your blood with hers and make sure you and she were the same.

After a while she broke the kiss and slumped into you. She was practically sitting on you now, arms tight around your neck, face buried in your chest, hip digging into your lap. You ran a hand through her hair as you rubbed circles on her back, humming a soft lullaby as a few last tremors shook her body.

It had started to rain outside. You suddenly became aware of the patter on the roof. You leaned your head on top of Wilhemina’s and closed your eyes.

“I didn’t mean it, you know,” came her voice, raspy but soft. “What I said the other day. I do love you.”

You hummed, dropped a kiss on her hair. “I know.” A pause. “I love you, too. Of course I love you.”

She let out a shaky breath, then sat up. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. You leaned in to kiss her burning eyelids. You kissed her forehead, a magic kiss, to soothe the throbbing in her head.

She met your gaze, bit her lip. You gave her a smile.

“Come on, get up,” you urged.

You waited for her in the living room as she cleaned her face, dried her hair and dressed. She put on the pajama set she always wore when she wasn’t feeling confident: baggy pants and a shirt that was too big for her. It didn’t cling to her body. It hid her body completely from view.

You managed to convince her to eat some of the rice. You ate in silence, watching her as she chewed and swallowed. She was sitting perfectly straight in her chair, head held high, eyes on her plate. When she was done, she delicately dabbed her mouth with her napkin, which she then folded on the table.

You waited. She stared at her empty plate for a moment, and then frowned.

“Look,” she finally said, “this is hard for me. I don’t know where to start.”

You nodded. “I know. That’s alright. Take your time.”

“I don’t usually… talk – “Her voice faltered. She glanced up at you, eyes dark and still rimmed red. You smiled in encouragement.

“Your friends,” she went on. Paused. As no other words came out, you got up from your seat, kneeled in front of her, and reached for one of her hands.

“I don’t hate them,” she said very quietly, staring down at her plate.

You couldn’t help but scoff. “You have a very peculiar way of showing it.”

Her lower lip quivered and her brow pushed up as if she were about to start crying again. You gave her hand a squeeze.

“Hey, none of that. Talk to me. What really bothers you about my friends?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, swallowed hard. You waited. When she opened her eyes again, they were shining with tears.

“I – “She shook her head, let out a sad laugh. “I don’t – “Her voice cracked. Her eyes met yours. “Please don’t – “

“It’s okay,” you whispered, bringing your free hand up to cup her cheek. ”I’m staying. I’m listening.”

A tear dropped from her eye, crashed between your thumb and index; and then she inhaled shakily and it all came out of her at once, words stumbling out like a panicked mob out of a room on fire.

“I’m afraid you’ll find someone better than me. All those kind, healthy people, I’m afraid you’ll truly see them one day and realize you could have so much better, so much more.” A breath out, as her face crumpled. “I don’t – I can’t – “A sob pushed out of her throat, and her breath hitched, and when she tried to inhale again she let out a noise as if she were choking. “I don’t – I don’t think I can ever be – be enough for –”

“Okay, you’re okay,” you cooed as her breathing grew frantic. “Mina, you’re okay.” She shook her head, her body slumping as fresh sobs tore their way out of her throat. “Hey,” you breathed, blinking back your own tears. You let go of her hand to cup her face.

Her cheeks were burning. You ran your thumbs over her cheekbones, catching her tears as they fell.

“Mina, I know you’re hurting,” you whispered. Your voice broke. You cleared your throat. “Baby, I want to be here for you.”

She nodded, hiccupping as she tried to wrestle her emotions back under control. One of her hands came up to wipe sloppily at her nose.

“Let’s move to the couch, ok?” you suggested. “Let’s get you comfortable.”

She didn’t let go of your hand on the very short way to the couch, her palm clammy against yours. She always did that, always had to be touching you: her ankle pressed against yours, her hand resting on your arm or on your waist, her shoulder brushing yours.

You sat down, and she hesitated before she snuggled up to you. She rested her head on your shoulder and reached for one of your hands in your lap.

There was a quiet moment, silence only broken by Wilhemina’s sniffles, and then you shook your head and teased, “What am I going to do with you?”

You felt her stiffen against you. “Because it’s such hard work and you never do a stroke of work,” she snapped.

“Mina,” you warned.

“Sorry,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

You dropped a kiss on her head. “Okay.”

You wrapped one arm around her shoulders and drew her closer. Automatically your hand started playing with her hair.

“You know,” you went on, “it’d have been easier if you had just told me how you felt instead of taking it out on my friends.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“I’ll tell you what we’ll do. From now on, you be honest with me. Whenever the bad thoughts come, whenever you feel like you could never be enough, you tell me. It doesn’t have to be with words, if that’s hard for you. We can decide on a code. Like this,” you poked her hip, and she jumped and let out a chuckle,” or this,” you leaned in, blew raspberries on her shoulder, “or this,” you stuck out your tongue and licked her cheek.

“You’re gross,” she laughed. She raised one hand to keep your face away from hers, but you dodged it and gently blew into her ear.

“Y/N.” She had meant to sound firm, but laughter rang in her voice.

“I’m sorry, was that supposed to be a threat?” you teased.

“I think the real question is, what am I supposed to do with you.”

“Um.” You pretended to think that through.”Love me.” A kiss on her shoulder. “I think love me is good.”

She looked up at you with a wistful look in her eyes. Her hand came up to touch your cheek. She smiled, soft and tender and fond, the smile she only ever gave to you. “Love you is good,” she whispered.

Her eyes flicked down to your mouth. You leaned in to kiss her, pouring tenderness into her mouth. When you pulled away, she let out a soft sigh as if she were about to fall asleep.

She rested her head on your shoulder again and closed her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“It’s alright,” you whispered back.

It still rained outside. You listened to the patter on the roof. Leaned your head on top of Wilhemina’s.

She fit so snuggly against you. She made you feel entirely safe, entirely you. You drank from her warmth the solace you had not been able to find in the peach-scented sheets or in Maggie’s reassurances and embrace.

After a while, you felt her nudge her nose on your shoulder. She drew a shaky breath, and asked, “So you’re not leaving?”

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability and fear in her voice.

“Um, no,” you answered. “I’m giving you a second chance.” A kiss on her forehead. “How long I’ll stay is entirely up to you. And Mina, please believe me when I say I hope you’ll give me reasons to stay forever.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be content with forever,” she said.

You rolled your eyes. “Of course you’re not.”

She shifted against you, moved her head to plant a lazy kiss on your neck, draped one arm loosely around you. Her hand slipped under your shirt and she dragged her nails on your skin, across your belly, down the curve of your waist.

And then you felt it. A poke, on your left hip. Like a question.

You grinned. “Just like that, my love.”

#ahs #ahs imagines #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #wilhemina venable #wilhemina venable x reader #fics

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