#jacketed kettle with agitator | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

apixrl · 4 years ago

Text

IT'S YOU.

hanta sero x fem!reader

WARNING(S): slight angst. mostly arguing / tension but fluff towards the end.

word count: 5.3k

song: it's you // gavriel

note(s): if u stan him ur immediately just so hot and sexc and if not ur just really stinky sorry not sorry

italian translation - translator !!

The heavy pouring rain waged war against your once dry and stylish jacket. The piece of clothing now resorted to an added weight as you strode forth to reach your apartment complex. Luckily you were only a street away, your hurried walk turning into a legitimate jog when the storeyed building came into sight. It was Friday night, meaning the day you worked overtime for the sake of earning a little extra as well as filling in for a coworker. Most of the day the weather had been miserable, the sky maintaining a mundane and drilling grey cloudy sketch that slowly collected into rain. Luckily your morning walk to work hadn't been affected by the downfall but the weather had chosen to stick around for your walk home.

Your jacket glued itself to your frame as its capability to keep you dry fleetly decreased, the hoodie underneath beginning to dampen ever so faintly too. Your pants were already taken to the rain, answering its call by absorbing the water into the fabric and making them exceptionally uncomfortable to wear. The pair of shoes on your feet struggled to bind together as they countlessly stepped in puddle after puddle, wearing and tearing with every step you took.

Cars passed by, tires causing gushes of water to hit the pavement. The street lamps did nothing to show your presence as they sped by, your body growing damper from the droplets of water hitting you. You briefly scolded the inconsiderate drivers in your head, eyes glancing ahead to meet an approaching individual. They were most likely a neighbour but given the darkness surrounding you weren't entirely sure, ultimately deciding to keep your head down and not draw attention to yourself.

In truth, this wasn't the only reason.

During the last week and a half, your want to socialise was relatively low, finding a lot of your spare time spent at home and in your own company. The separation from society was healthy for your recently plagued mind, spending afternoons finding all kinds of homely leisure to pass the hours by. It felt much more wholesome and enjoyable to endeavour in a story from your bookshelf or writing poetry in your journal straight from the heart rather than sitting aimlessly on your phone. Simply scrolling through social media to bore the day away.

Why the sudden stray from society to your own little world? Well... sometimes having a popular Pro Hero as a boyfriend came with its cons. Especially when hardships came between. As of the Tuesday approaching, it would be your ten-month anniversary with your partner - Hanta. Or what he was better known as; Taping Hero: Cellophane.

Yours and his meet was rather mundane truth be told. What started as a journey to purchase a recently released volume of one of Hanta's favourite manga comics took a drastic turn and became something much more meaningful. He caught you grabbing the final copy available, smoothly swooping in to attempt to charm you into giving him the comic (the ravenette had been to about five stores before that during patrol - a rather lousy thing to do but he justified his actions with lack of spare time). However, he walked out with a date two nights later instead, finding himself be moved by your own charms and attraction that Hanta urged himself to ask and not miss the chance.

From there, things were taken slow. His social status was shared pretty quickly, faster than Hanta felt comfortable with - liking the idea of you liking him for who he was over his fame and wealth. It didn't affect your perspective of the ravenette, since you had already fallen for him before such information could be told. It took a month before you officially became boyfriend and girlfriend, and life couldn't have been better for the pair of you. For the most part, your relationship was perfectly stable and as healthy as you could make it. But unfortunately, all good things must come with a cost.

See, one thing you were to learn with growing closer to Hanta was he kept his personal life extremely separate from his heroic persona. Such a statement was made very clear before you brought your relationship to the next level since the ravenette requested that if you were to become lovers that he would want it to remain private. So he could feel he had a somewhat normal life outside of his duties as a hero. Whilst becoming a Pro was his dream and the man loved his job, Hanta was also a sucker for peace and quiet too. Having that metaphorical and literal balance in his life granted him inner peace, and as his partner, you respected that.

At least at first, since you didn't think you would reach ten months together and still be hiding behind sunglasses whenever the pair of you wanted to see a movie.

You couldn't lie, it was endearingly sweet Hanta felt that way, partly anyway. The fact he cherished your love and relationship so close to his heart that it was only shared between you two. But your irrationality couldn't help but make you wonder how in a concerning way, Hanta's desire to keep you from his greatest achievement in life (becoming a top ten pro) almost felt like he was hiding you... like he didn't want you a part of it. And once that thought struck you as the ravenette rested peacefully beside you one night, it didn't shy away anytime soon. Given the fact you had spoken briefly about making yourselves public in the past with little to no issue, you didn't think you would cause harm by bringing it up again. But it seemed your choice of when to bring it up was poor, as it most certainly did not run smoothly between you.

Something about his day had irritated Hanta, and so you pinning such focus on the subject seemed to pass him over his limit. There were a few snaps here and there, which you didn't necessarily appreciate, and Hanta's lack of enthusiasm and care for your request made you all the more upset. So weighted emotions matched with the evident disagreement surely lead to Hanta storming out of your apartment with such a slam to the door you wouldn't have expressed shock if your neighbour's stepped out in the hall to see the chaos ensuing.

That was nine days ago, and so far neither of you had seen nor spoken to the other. You'd made attempts to contact him since then, attempts you knew before you tried would come out unsuccessful. But from observation, Hanta was surprisingly a complete mess when it came to emotions based on negativity. Whenever the ravenette grew angry or agitated he became a closed book, so hard for you to read that the only thing you learned that worked was to give him space. To let him get through his upset alone since he never seemed to allow for outer help and comfort to assist. Which you despised because you wanted to help him through his troubles. To be there as the big spoon or to be the shoulder to cry on. But stupid male pride got in the way, Hanta building a wall so high and thick between him, his emotions and you that truth be told you had no idea how to push through.

So you resorted to letting him get over it in his own time, knowing deep down he would come around eventually. It wasn't the first quarrel you'd had and hopefully not the worst, and you knew this was Hanta's way of dealing with it. Whilst you had been willing to wait it out, you placed that thought in your head thinking it to be only two or three days before Hanta made some sort of effort.

But it was nine. And that was beginning to concern you greatly.

You finally reached the stairs leading up to your apartment building, the relief flowing through your system so freeing and wonderous. All that was left was to type in the passcode by the main doors and you would be merrily under shelter, able to kick off your trainers and slip into some comfy sweats. Perhaps even make yourself a warm cup of cocoa and watch an episode of a show you needed to catch up on before the sweet release of sleep. Or so you thought it was going to go.

Twenty minutes later and your thumb grazed lightly over your phone's home screen, imaginatively stroking the black hair of a certain boy you loved dear as he smiled cross-eyed back at you. The photo was taken when Hanta took you ice skating in the countryside during the winter which previously passed. He discovered a secluded location hiding a spacious lake that had been glazed with thick, sturdy ice. After numerous times of losing your balance, Hanta deemed it amusing to take a photo with you as you sat on your backside in defeat. And whilst it did humiliate you, you adored Hanta's goofy looking face in the photo. Hence why it was your background.

You'd found yourself staring at the photo the night prior too, contemplating whether to try to call again or not. What if something was wrong? What if Hanta was injured and somewhere under repair at one of the numerous hospitals in the city? God... what if the doofus finally slung himself across the city as crazily as that Western hero he never shut up about and fell to his death? And your setback from social media was the reason you hadn't found out yet? See! This was a reason why you wanted to go public! At least in an emergency, somebody would know who to contact!

Your brows crinkled at that final thought, what began as concern moving back a step to annoyance and you settled on tossing your phone behind you on your bed in defeat. Proceeding to stand upright, you tugged the oversized hoodie (Hanta's hoodie not to mention) on your person and wandered through the rooms of your apartment to your kitchen. Where the bubbling of your kettle boiling water filtered your ears. The low hum calmed you as you leaned against the counter in thought, arms crossed over your chest and your eyes focused deeply beyond the wooden flooring.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The noise went unheard at first, so occupied in your head you mistook the sound for the kettle boiling. But when the triple trill sounded again, it dawned on you that that was most certainly not how a kettle was supposed to sound. Snapping out of your focus, your head lifted to the kettle before it scanned the room around you. Nothing seemed different at all, and nothing inside your apartment had a reason to make such a sound.

Unless you had rats... then maybe that would make sense.

Please don't be rats.

Having no initial success, you blankly went back to your thoughtful state - the kettle finally boiling. Permitting you to fill the lavender painted mug that waited impatiently on the side, four heaped teaspoons of cocoa powder begging for hydration inside. Now actually having something to do you hoisted yourself off of the counter, stepping to the one opposite to do the task at hand. But then just as you were going to pour the heated water...

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap!

This time it was more rushed and heightened, holding a lack of patience to a certain extent. It was there you finally trailed your eyes left, right and centre, your E/C irises landing on the french doors past your sofa which lead to your balcony. Doing as much as possible to downplay your panic by putting on a brave face, you manoeuvred from your perch in the kitchen and headed for the doors to glance outside. Thankfully the light on the balcony was switched on, giving you a glimpse of silhouettes to the arrangement of the outdoor area. At first, nothing seemed different at all. Just the usual setting your balcony always had. A few potted plants and a small sakura blossom which you'd been growing from the seed, as well as a glass table and four chairs. Not to mention the closed up umbrella and pole reaching for the stars above too. But looking over your observations, something went amiss. Since when did you have five chairs?

Squinting your eyes in a struggle to focus better, they were only set to widen as it hit you what you could see. There, perched on your balcony in a squatting position was a person... balancing perfectly on the thin pole as their head leaned forwards to occasionally peer inside the glass doors. It took a second or two for you to figure out what was going on. But the moment you recalled the fact you had a boyfriend with the ability to swing from rooftop to rooftop, your heart both plummeted to your feet and leapt to the heavens above simultaneously.

After realising what was happening, you moved to the lock of the glass doors and grabbed hold. That movement seemed to indicate shifting on the exterior because the person on the other side stood upright and casually stepped off the railing as though it were a stair. You swallowed thickly, clamping down on the inside of your cheek in worry that you could not see his face. Unfortunate for your nerves since at least then you could gain some form of presumption to what his expression read. So walking in blind, you unlocked the door and jiggled it open, the glass door sliding to the side easily. Quickly did the silent walls of your apartment be filled to the brim with the heavy downpour of rain and distant car horns in the distance. As well as the overhanging state of tension in the air as your eyes trailed up the slender frame of your visitor and meeting the ebony eyes you'd been missing for far too long now.

"What... what are you doing here?" You uttered out after a long twenty seconds passed. Upon opening the door no words were said, only the longing gaze of two conflicted lovers. Hanta stood before you with a discouraged expression, lips tightly pursed together with no catchphrase toothy grin to show. He was donning his hero costume, though his helmet appeared to be missing for reasons you didn't know why. But it didn't help Hanta one bit since his black locks were laced with the heavy downpour from above. You imagined his hero costume was drenched as well, damp spandex sounding all too discomforting in your head as you used it as a focus to ease the nerves you felt to the sudden visit.

"Hey," Hanta finally said after what felt like a millennium. What were his usual cheerful tones came out low and unsure, like the ravenette hadn't come prepared and was relying on other factors to push himself forward. With sunken brows and a clear of his throat, Hanta continued as he lifted his eyes to meet yours. "Can I come in?"

"Oh... right, sure," You stated blankly and stepped back for him to do so. At first, you wanted to ask him why he decided to come to your balcony of all things, but the look in his eyes had convinced you to wait for that chance. There was just something about those gorgeous orbs of ebony you couldn't say no to - conflict or not. Luckily your apartment flooring was hard, meaning any water from Hanta's shoes (or soles as his costume didn't use shoes) could be mopped up and dealt with later. Not that you were thinking about that at all. Your mind was too focused on processing what was going on.

"I was in the neighbourhood and you know that my tape is crap in rain so... I didn't know where else to crash," Hanta started once inside your apartment. He nervously laughed as though to ease inner feelings, hands meeting his hips in a lost attempt to make conversation. It was mainly due to the fact you hadn't properly greeted him, sort of dawdling between him and the sofa. You looked Hanta up and down and sighed, seeing how soaked he was.

"Here... slip this on," You lifted your hands over your head to tug the hoodie off, holding it out for Hanta to take. It was his anyway, and it would be a lie to say you weren't wearing it for his scent. Underneath the hoodie, you donned a simple black tank top you tended to wear during your morning jogs or times of exercise. The ravenette took it reluctantly, initiating you to head for your bedroom. "I'll go grab you some pants too. And a towel for your hair,"

"Oh... okay then," Hanta was genuinely astonished by the hospitality, watching you disappear down the hall. As you grabbed the aforementioned items, he began to remove the top half of his hero costume. It was true that Hanta loved his hero costume very much but when it came to the rain he wanted nothing more than to change the design completely. The spandex soaked up the rain and it took hours to drip out, not only dampening him but also multiplying its weight much more than double its usual. With his tape dispenser shoulder pads placed on the floor, Hanta stripped himself of his top half. Sighing when he discovered the rain had seeped through and dampened his skin. Luckily you entered the room shortly after, carrying some grey sweats of Hanta's and a freshly cleaned towel.

"So... is there any other reason you decided to scare the crap out of me on my balcony?" You questioned flatly, a hand on your hip as you held the towel out for Hanta, placing the sweats on the sofa cushion next to him. He mumbled a quick thanks, promptly starting to dry his upper half.

"Well yeah," The ravenette stopped momentarily to glance your way, ebony eyes finding you back at the countertop in the kitchen where you resumed the task of making cocoa. Hanta quickly expressed a sigh. "W-We gotta talk,"

"About?" You asked innocently, though you were fully aware of what was being implied. Chewing the inside of your cheek as you did your best not to make eye contact, Hanta furrowed his brows at you.

"I think you know,"

"Well, are we starting afresh or picking up where we left off? The moment you decided to storm out of here and slam the door shut?" You spoke in a passive-aggressive manner because truth be told, you didn't appreciate Hanta's way of handling your last discussion at all. So you were certainly planning on letting him know. Speaking of which, Hanta was now scrubbing his raven locks dry as his eyes closed in response. Almost like he expected you to react in such a manner. Though he refrained from biting back, knowing that would only make it worse. Not his aim for visiting.

"Starting afresh,"

"Okay then," Was all you said, stirring your spoon and tapping it quite obnoxiously on the side of the mug before dropping it into the kitchen sink. Then you moved to the fridge to grab yourself some squirty cream. The can practically empty, it reminded you how badly you needed to go grocery shopping the next day. As for a reply, from across the room, you could only see the essence of hesitance. Either from Hanta figuring where to go from that or ultimate regret for even coming. Your bets were on both.

"Look Y/N -," The ravenette began, relatively quick to dry the rest of himself off and to put on the remaining clothes. Just as he was prepared to skirt over to your side, his actions ceased upon seeing you setting yourself down on the armchair opposite. Hanta had a moment where he didn't move, unsure what to do before he resorted to sitting down on the sofa. Feeling it the only safe thing to do. "I don't want problems between us. It's the last thing I want, okay?"

"I um... okay," You said, fingertips tapping lightly against the ceramic mug filled to the brim with whipped cream and cocoa. Hanta met your gaze for a split second, hands proceeding to fiddle with the other much more prominently.

"But... I want you to know that I've been thinking about it and well... I guess if it'll make you happy, I'm willing to do it and go public," Hanta spoke through a sigh. Peculiar, because a week ago you would have probably broken into a bright smile and jumped straight into the ravenette's arms then and there. Yet, you remained in your seat and mouthed a small oh of... disappointment was it? Whilst you weren't certain what it was, it most definitely felt like that. Which was odd because the words Hanta had just uttered were the ones you had been waiting to hear for months now.

Funnily enough, it didn't take you long to figure out why. Because throughout the previous week and the lack of contact, that's exactly what had been the route of the problem. The way Hanta treated you during your last interaction and the lack of communication mixed with it. It wasn't the original issue anymore. Of course, you still wanted that. But you additionally craved a sense of closure for how you were treated.

"Hanta I...," Hanta's brows crinkled together in a frown, not shy to display his confusion to your hesitant tones.

"What? What is it? T-That's what you want right?" He replied.

"Yes, it's what I want. But that's not the issue anymore,"

"What do you mean? I'm not following...," His response made you scoff. Not exactly great for the situation at hand. You remained silent for a little bit longer, scratching the side of your head as you sat upright to elaborate.

"Hanta... you haven't texted or called me in over a week. You walked out of here after a fight and practically went radio silent!" Was your protest, watching as Hanta fell back against the sofa. Unbeknownst to you, there was another reason he did this. An inner conflict he had yet to unveil. A prolonged silence ensued as if Hanta was trying to find the correct words to say.

"Because I needed space Y/N... time to think!"

"Yeah well we both did... but even calling just to say that would have been reassuring," You weren't finished despite trailing off, Hanta seeming to notice by the way your lips were faintly parted. "I know you have a busy schedule but... but...," The thought entered your mind for a split moment, doing much more damage than intended.

"But what?"

"It doesn't matter. I-it's stupid," You tried to brush it off, suppressing the thought further down into your system so it wouldn't win you over. Hanta didn't seem to like that though, his head tilting your way with his eyes boring into your own. He could tell when something was bothering you, just from your body language.

"No. Tell me,"

"You're not losing interest in me, are you?" It sounded ridiculous the moment you uttered the words, and it sounded even more ridiculous as Hanta's hands met the bridge of his nose in a heavy sigh. Quickly causing you to further your point. "I-I just thought that you not wanting to go public and being 'busy' was a nice way of saying -,"

"Don't even finish that sentence,"

"Sorry," The silence lingering between you both drowned out your voice, to which you looked down at your hands with a sigh. The ravenette sat upright rather abruptly, shifting onto his feet and coursing a hand through his hair. There was a clashing frown on his face as he reflected on the words he just heard.

"I can't believe you would even think that... that I'm growing tired of you!" Hanta called out in disbelief, near offended by the accusation. His body twisted to face you, eyeing you down for some sort of explanation or justification to what you said.

"It's hard not to when you're giving off all these... these signs!" That was your best response. Though you were set to be cut off by another sharp sigh from Hanta. One of many expressed that rainy night. You watched as he walked on over to the glass doors he entered moments earlier, observing the rain slashing harshly against the clear surface. It had grown even heavier since his entry, the back of his mind relieved to be out of the dangerous weather and inside closed doors. He didn't ponder on it long though, returning to the situation at hand and leaving the indistinct 'pitter-patter' of the rain behind him.

"Y/N have you ever thought for a single moment why I've kept you secret for so long?"

"You said you liked your private life to be away from your hero one... a-and I get that!" You replied urgently. "I'm okay with all the publicity and the social media responses and -," As though he expected that answer, Hanta interrupted you with a near saddened laugh. It caused you to frown and glare his way, about to raise your voice if not for his own voice filling the apartment.

"You know my job isn't just walking around being a celebrity, right?" Hanta glanced back at you. "I'm a hero for crying out loud! I protect people from danger! People like you!" The ravenette pressed a closed fist against the glass pane of the door, forehead inches away from the surface since Hanta shifted most of his weight onto it. You tilted your head, frowning.

"I know that but -,"

"But do you?" Hanta's tone came off harsher than intended to emphasise his point. But he was quick to abandon it, clicking his tongue in defeat to a battle in his head when he realised he had to explain his case. He'd been reluctant to say anything about his activities in the last week since technically not even the press knew, but lying wasn't going to get Hanta and you anywhere. So he surrendered to the urge and spoke. "Listen, the reason I didn't message you this week is that I've been working non-stop over some drug trades going on. One's that have been going on for a while underground and ones that have gotten good people killed. I haven't had the time to focus on us even though our fight has been in my head all week and I've been shitting myself over talking about it because I don't want to lose you! I couldn't imagine life without you, Y/N and I feel like an ass for treating you how I did last time we spoke! But I haven't been able to tell you that because access to my phone has been slim, and I couldn't-,"

"Hanta?" You stood up gingerly, only speaking up due to the change of Hanta's aura. He had started curt and sharp but slowly tumbled into a more emotional demeanour. The more personal his small speech grew the more it started to affect him, probably the impact of his own thoughts taking their toll. There was even a voice crack at some point, one you'd never heard before. Hanta took a deep breath, bracing himself to speak again.

"It sounds like a lame excuse but it's the truth. I didn't want to say it. But I can't lie to you," He continued. "It's cases like this that have kept me from wanting to go public. B-Because if those people were to figure out who you are because of me...," There was a stifled shake of a breath, Hanta's voice quietening in fear just at the thought. "I wouldn't be able to forgive myself,"

You were speechless. So speechless you weren't even mad anymore. He was finally... finally being vulnerable with you and that seemed to be enough for you to erase all your grudges. Sure, work wasn't an excuse for everything. But in a circumstance like this one - with the job that Hanta lead, you could understand his reasons and in spite of your worry you knew the rules. No mobiles on operations. And finally, he was confiding to you about why he struggled with the thought of announcing your relationship. So in a very reluctant manoeuvre, you plucked up the courage to walk up behind him and wrap your arms around Hanta in a sorrowful hug. Hanta tensed up at first, breath running short, but he didn't push you away. A hopeful sign.

"I'm sorry for making it such a big deal when you had other things to think about," You said, pressing your lips to the back of his shoulder blade and giving the surface a peck. You remained there for a good few, adamant seconds before retracting. "And I'm sorry for never looking at it that way... or considering your feelings on the matter,"

"Y/n it's fine... just...," Hanta seized the opportunity to turn around to face you, running a hand through his ebony locks with one hand as his other slithered around you to return the hug. "I'm sorry I made you doubt me... I feel like shit about it and it wasn't my intention at all,"

"No! No! Don't apologise. It's okay, " You brought a hand to fiddle with the string of his hoodie. As much as it wasn't what you wanted, you had to see Hanta's perspective and understand his feelings too. This was a two-person relationship after all and had you known his feelings ran that deep, you wouldn't have pressed the matter as much as you had. "Look, we don't have to announce anything to anyone okay? If it makes you comfortable and happy then I'm willing to remain a mystery a little longer,"

That returned some colour to his face, almost like Hanta feared you would oppose him even still and the situation would grow for the worse. With a small sigh of relief, he finally allowed a smile to press to his lips. A smile you knew all too well and had missed for a while now.

"Thank you for understanding," Hanta exhaled, pausing as his eyes hovered onto you with an ounce of playful intent. "And I guess we could be a little bit less discreet when we go to the cinema together," You smiled faintly, finally satisfied with the decision you had come up with. Better yet, a compromise. The very thing you had wanted to start with... clearly your concluding thoughts had been premature.

"Thank you... it means a lot,"

"Yeah... I love you," Hanta spoke gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"I love you too," You stood on your tiptoes to lightly peck his lips, Hanta humming softly in approval as he returned the gesture. After a few seconds, you pulled back though, feeling a smile on your face as you did. It was enjoyable to kiss his lips again, another thing you had missed greatly in your week-long deprivation of your boyfriend.

"So, how does some hot cocoa sound? I can imagine you were sat on the balcony for a pretty long time," You pulled away from the hug, but kept hold of Hanta's wrist as you tugged him along with you. Hanta shook a fist in grateful triumph, sighing out in bliss at the offer.

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask! Hot cocoa sounds amazing," He smiled, pausing temporarily before adding on. "But are cuddles on the table too?" You glanced back at him, half expecting the request. But there was no way you were going to say no. You shook your head in amusement before answering.

"I think we're both in desperate need of cuddles, so I think so. Yes,"

"Amen to that,"

#hanta sero #hanta sero x reader #sero x reader #hanta x reader #hanta sero x y/n #hanta sero x you #bnha x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero x reader #bnha sero hanta #bnha #angst #fluff #sero fluff #x reader

124 notes · View notes

ratdoeswriting · 3 years ago

Text

dont let him go

summary: It was a week before Morse was allowed to go home - the wound on his neck didn’t take to healing as quickly as the doctors had hoped, and it was still tender, stark scarlet against ghostly white. He had only had a few visitors - Thursday had come in almost every evening, updating him on Sarah’s case; Dr. Debryn had popped in once, and even Mrs Thursday had stopped by for half an hour, but Jakes hadn’t been.

prompt: this is part two to 'youll get him back' and would make more sense if u read that first but honestly just live ur life

pairings: peter jakes/endeavour morse

warnings: mentionas of past violence, mild injury description, emotions

word count: 1.2K

a/n: i started this months ago but was ever quite happy with it… oh well here it is!! okay so i started this in may and its almost november now so… sorry? anyways this is crossposted on ao3 and my main blog

~~~

It was a week before Morse was allowed to go home - the wound on his neck didn’t take to healing as quickly as the doctors had hoped, and it was still tender, stark scarlet against ghostly white. He had only had a few visitors - Thursday had come in almost every evening, updating him on Sarah’s case; Dr. Debryn had popped in once, and even Mrs Thursday had stopped by for half an hour, but Jakes hadn’t been.

Morse wasn’t too surprised, they had never really defined what they had and considering what he knew about Jakes, maybe going out for dinner a few times did not warrant a hospital visit. Just because he wasn't surprised, that doesn't mean he wasn’t disappointed. Regardless, Morse was itching to get out of the hospital and desperate to get home, and graciously accepted Monica’s offer to call him a taxi.

“Will you do something for me?” She asked, passing him his jacket.

“Yes, I will take the rest of my time off to rest.”

“No, well yes, but-” Monica ducked her head to catch Morse’s eye, “will you go and speak to him? Please, I think it’d be good for you.”

He only hesitated for a moment, “Okay, I will. Thank you. And, thank you, for the cab.”

~~~

It was almost nine when Morse stepped out of the hospital, the biting night breeze cutting through his coat. He pulled it a little tighter. As Morse was about to get in the taxi, he heard someone shouting his name and a rhythmic car horn shock through the air.

“Morse!”

He spun around, not quite able to hide a small smile as he apologised to the taxi driver and walked towards the other car.

Jakes had been leaning against the driver’s door, but, as Morse walked across the car park, he circled round to the passenger side to greet Morse, cigarette loose in his grasp, smoke swirling in the dirty orange streetlight like sad, grey angel wings.

“I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Drive you home?” Jakes was frowning but still opened the door and gestured Morse inside.

They drove in silence, the wheels splashing teardrops onto the bottom of the car and the radio crooning and crackling a classical station. Morse watched Jakes tap an agitated rhythm on the steering wheel and had the strangest urge to hold his hand tightly, to ground him. They didn’t speak until they were back at Morse’s flat.

It had been cold outside, the kind of cold that made your eyes water and your nose run, and when you went into the warm your cheeks would turn a sad sort of red. For a moment, when he turned from the kettle to the sink, Jakes could see this on Endeavour's face: a sick parody of how he looked the night Sarah took him.

“I’m not going to vanish.” Endeavour’s voice was soft, holding Peter’s heart and soothing it’s racing beat.

“You did.”

They stood there for a moment in silence, just this side of too tense, and in the light of the small washed out bulb, Endeavour could see Peter, really see him. His eyes looked more sunken than usual, dark circles weighing them down and making him look tired; he was pale too, ghostly, and Morse couldn’t help but wonder what he had been doing this past week.

They couldn’t stop talking, though they weren't saying much worth anything. The silence must be filled. Someone had put the record player on.

Morse’s cupboards were as good as bare - the few slices of bread had gone moldy - so they got fish and chips, though they were mostly cold by the time they sat down, legs intertwined, at the tiny dining table.

“I really thought you were going to die,” Peter said, poking idly at his mushy peas, “I thought that- “

“‘Please, love’.”

“What?”

“The last thing that I actually remember is you saying that. And then I didn’t see you for a week.” Morse says - more an observation than an accusation.

“I did come. To the hospital, that is.” He reached across and took a few chips off Morse’s plate, “The first day you were in there you were unconscious, or sleeping maybe, but I was there.”

“You didn’t come after that?”

“I didn’t go home before I came to see you. I don’t know how much you remember, but your neck…” Peter trailed off for a moment, staring at something only he could see. He shook his head, “My hands, my shirt - they were- there was blood everywhere and everytime I looked at you I thought you were dead, Dev. Everytime I looked at you, all I could see was you dead in that barn, or in the ambulance or-”

“Okay, okay. I understand. It’s just- I wish you had come to see me.”

“Right, well I'll remember that for next time you nearly die.”

“Knowing me that won't be too long.”

~~~

Peter could smell smoke when he woke up. It wasn’t often that Morse smoked - he hated the taste and the way the smell lingered, but on those rare occasions that he did, Peter liked to watch. It was nice to see a slightly more human side to him, though he created a rather lachrymose picture.

The duvet pooled wonkily around Endeavour’s waist, the bleak streetlights and stray sunlight trapped in the raindrops on the window making a dirty, blurred halo that illuminated his bruised torso and bounced off his curls, shredding Peter's heart.

“I’m still not going to vanish.” Endeavour croaked. Peter sat up against the headboard and plucked the half finished cigarette from Morse’s fingers, tugging Endeavour on top of him.

Peter ghosted his fingers across Morse’s shoulders, up towards the scabbed wound and back down again.

Endeavour shifted, pushing his face further into Peter’s neck.

Peter watched the cigarette burning down to the filter.

“Make sure you put that out,” Morse mumbled into Peter’s skin, and he was asleep again before Peter had lit another cigarette, blowing smoke as if it would take his discomfort as it went. It didn’t.

He couldn’t help but notice how fragile, how still, Morse looked and his mind helpfully supplied images of him bleeding out in that arn again, over and over and over until he almost convinced himself that this was a dream and Morse had died, that Peter had been too slow, too weak.

Peter’s free hand had still been tracing idle patterns across Morse’s freckled shoulders, so he guided his hand to the wound on Endeavour’s neck, ghosting his fingers over the shooting star and through a constellation of freckles. His pulse beat steadily under Peter's fingers.

Peter took a shuddering breath and let sleep take him once more.

~~~

It was late afternoon when Morse next woke. There was a cool breeze pushing through his flat - Peter had opened the window to air out the smoke - and the breeze carried the smell of slightly burnt toast, thick butter, and a palpable undercurrent of loving concern.

“You should eat something, Dev.”

“We should go for a walk later.”

For now, they sat, fingers intertwined on top of the tiny table. Peter’s fingers twitched as if to hold tighter. Endeavour tightened his grip a little.

“I’m not going anywhere, love.”

#itv endeavour #endeavour morse #peter jakes #hurt/comfort #previous injury #lmk if i need to tag anything else #ratwrites

5 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years ago

Text

Duplicitous

Warnings: noncon/dubcon elements (rough sex, oral, cuckolding), deception.

This is dark!Loki and ft. some Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: Loki is new to the team but receives a cool welcome from those at the Avengers compound. Assigned to complete his orientation, you try to start anew with the former villain of New York.

Note: Still working on Omerta and From Eden. Tbh, the last week has been a tough one mentally but I’m working on that. I’ve also been all over the place helping my mother get settled after moving to town. Whatever, life is life. Thanks to all your wonderful people.

Leave some feedback, like and reblog if you can <3

It was a long morning. Much of it had been spent with Tony and as any other meeting with the man, it swung between amiability and antagonism. It was easy to guess why he was agitated as he was determined to thrust the crux of his displeasure upon you. Tony was never one to just roll over and he held a grudge well, but he wasn’t heartless and Thor was one of his best.

It was only unfortunate that the Asgardian had deemed himself a package deal. If his home was to be Earth, it wouldn’t be his brother’s too. Loki was different now, he sought redemption, to right his wrongs. It was a hard sell but the god was relentless and as usual, he prevailed.

“I want you to make this hell,” Tony’s words echoed in your head as you flipped through the workplace standards binder. “You are going to go through this with a fine tooth comb until that jackass can’t take anymore.”

These things were never easy. Going over protocol, safety regulations, workplace behaviour and etiquette. Usually you did your best to condense it all to make it more palatable; as much for you as the new hires. Now Tony wanted you to torture this man via dry ordinances as he wasn’t allowed to do so physically. The boss wouldn’t sign off until he was sure Loki suffered, though you were just as certain Tony had no plans to sign off on anything.

You checked the clock, it was almost noon already. You’d set up the conference room for your first session. The binders and files stacked neatly on one end as you sat in the middle.

You rose and looked through the transparent wall. Pepper’s heels raced by as she hurried to Tony’s office with her phone at her ear. The usual chaos of the tower.

You stepped out into the hall and made your way to the kitchen and popped a capsule in the machine before you found a mug. You added water to the machine and listened to the whir as it spat orange pekoe from its nozzle. You hated the little pods of leaves but you didn’t have time to wait on the kettle. You added a touch of milk and checked your watch before you stole one of the scones left in the box Pepper had strolled in with that morning.

You cradled the crummy scone in a paper towel and as you neared the conference room, you found a broad pair of shoulders awaiting you. You had still not grown used to Thor’s lack of hair. Loki’s dark head appeared just on the other side of him and your dread sank into your stomach.

“Hey,” You approached. “Just in time.”

“My lady!” Thor boomed as he turned to greet you. “How are you?”

“Well, and you?” You couldn’t help but smile. “How is the city treating you so far?”

“We have seen many things,” He announced. “Many delicious foods.”

Loki was silent, his eyes dull as he resisted rolling them at his brother.

“And are you doing more exploring today?” You wondered.

“Eh, I gotta see Tony but I figured I’d see Loki in for his first day,” He lowered his voice. “I told him to behave.”

“I can hear you,” Loki grumbled.

“Yes, well you already know I told you to behave,” Thor said. “So… behave.”

“Yes, mother,” Loki replied snidely.

Thor huffed and shook his head.

“I fear I’ve set him into a mood already,” Thor said. “I apologize.”

Loki blinked in exasperation but said nothing.

“Well, I guess we should begin and you should see Tony sooner than later,” You offered. “He called for the jet so he might not be here much longer.”

“Thank you,” Thor clapped your shoulder. “I promise, he has changed.”

You nodded and gave a weak smile. Thor left you and you turned to Loki. He stared at you a moment then his eyes drifted to the transparent door.

“Allow me,” He pushed the door inward and stepped inside to let you past.

You looked down at your full hands and thanked him as you entered. You set your mug and scone down but didn’t touch them. You had hoped to enjoy them before his arrival but for once, Thor was timely. Or perhaps that was Loki’s doing. He seemed the more stringent of the two.

“Loki,” You waved to the chair across from you. “Nice to meet you.”

“Again,” He neared slowly and grabbed the back of the chair. “Did you forget?”

“A brief meeting, yes,” You said. “But I’ve been told you weren’t yourself.”

He sat carefully and leaned an elbow on the arm of the chair.

“I remember it though,” He assured you.

“I tend to remember other events that day a little more clearly,” You countered.

“Mmm,” His brow twitched. “Yes, you Midgardians do cling to the more extreme details of my last visit.”

You wanted to scoff. Your last meeting had very nearly killed you. As creatures flew upon strange machines outside the windows of Stark Tower and buildings were decimated, you had caught a piece of shrapnel as one of the invaders crashed through the windows. You still wore the scar across your side; still remembered the god behind Tony’s bar, lecturing you upon your inferiority.

“This is a new start,” You slid a binder over to him. “Though not an exciting one.”

His fingers tapped on the blue cover as you opened your own and took a sip of your tea.

“What is this?” He opened his slowly.

“The rules,” You answered. “Combat regulations, mission protocol, office standards… the fun stuff.”

“And did my brother have to sit through this tripe?” He asked.

“Your brother didn’t try to invade New York,” You said sharply. “And Tony likes him.”

“Ah, Stark,” He smirked. “Of course.”

“Did you want a tea? Anything to drink?” You asked.

His eyes flicked up and he considered you. “Very kind, but I’d rather we just begin.”

“Right,” You looked down and took a breath. “Probably best.”

🐍

The clock at the end of the room read past six. You yawned and rubbed your eyes. All the little quizzes and evaluations Tony had tacked on were taking a lot longer than you expected. Loki looked just as uninterested though he read along all the same and had yet to falter.

You sniffed and leaned back in your chair.

“Ready to call it a day?” You asked.

“Up to you,” He said coolly. “To be honest, it has been slightly preferable to my brother’s grating presence. Slightly.”

“He’s not that bad,” You chuckled.

“He’s not your brother,” Loki countered. “Have you ever had the pleasure of eating with him? It’s disgusting.”

You held back another laugh and shook your head. Your eyes caught a figure on the other side of the clear wall. Steve squinted through and pointed at Loki with a tilt of his head. You blinked and shrugged. Loki noticed and glanced over his shoulder.

“Ah,” He slowly turned back. “The golden avenger has returned.”

“Well…” You tapped your fingers on the table. “I am, uh, late.”

“Late?” He raised his brows.

Steve went to the door and opened it carefully.

“Sorry to interrupt,” He poked his head in. But I’ve been, uh…” He looked at Loki warily. “Texting you.”

“We were just finishing up,” You assured him.

“Hello, Captain,” Loki pivoted his chair.

“Steve,” The other man corrected. “Thanks.”

“Ah,” Loki’s mouth twitched and he looked between the two of you. He stood up and turned back to you. “I didn’t realise. I shall see myself out.”

“We’ll pick this up tomorrow. Same time,” You said.

“I look forward to it,” He said dryly.

Loki took the black jacket he’d slung over the back of his chair halfway through your session and nodded at Steve as he slipped past him. He strode along the wall and offered a two finger wave before he disappeared. Steve watched him with hands on his hips.

“What--”

“You haven’t talked to Tony?”

“I didn’t think he was serious,” Steve turned to you. “He didn’t--”

“Oh, you guys need to calm down,” You rolled your eyes. “He was perfectly… tame.”

You pulled out your phone and saw several notifications from Steve, along with a few emails. One was marked with a red exclamation which deemed it urgent and you opened it up. You glossed through it quickly.

“Steve,” You looked up. “You didn’t?--”

“It was Bucky too,” He said evasively. “We were just doing our job.”

“You collapsed a bridge,” You frowned. “Why is it always you?”

“No casualties,” He pleaded.

“Only me,” You scowled. “I’ll be buried in the paperwork.”

He lowered his chin guiltily. He neared shyly as you packed up your bag.

“How can I ever make it up to you?” He touched your arm.

You narrowed your eyes at him as you collected your mug and half-eaten scone.

“Cheesecake?” He smiled.

“You can’t buy me with dessert,” You brushed past him and he followed you out into the hall.

“Really?” He said. “I know you like a little whip cream on top.” You entered the kitchen and rinsed out the cup and placed it in the rack. “But… we could try it on something else.”

You faced him and fought not to smirk. You shook your head.

“So the cheesecake is… foreplay?”

“Part of it,” He got closer and his hand settled on your hip.

“Hmm,” You hummed as his lips hovered over yours. “Strawberry cheesecake?”

“My favourite,” He purred and kissed you.

🐍

The next day, you found Loki waiting in the conference room. You had spent your morning trying to clean up after the super soldiers. You pushed through the clear door and rounded the table as you greeted Loki.

“You’re early,” You said as you took your seat. The binders were as they had been the day before.

“All the better to get this over with,” He said as you sat and rolled your chair closer to the table.

“You know, I am starting to think it would be a lot easier if you and Tony just had it out,” You opened the binder. “Well, easier for me.”

Loki snickered and flipped through his own binder.

“You and the golden boy,” He ventured as you found the right page. “Adorable.”

You glanced up at him and furrowed your brow. You cleared your throat and looked back to the pages.

“So, we were going over required training.” You said.

“Is that allowed in your little Midgardian handbook?” He prodded.

“We will cover that,” You assured him. “Not that I think you need to worry about it.”

“Hmm, no,” He mused. “I wouldn’t.”

You sat back and sighed.

“It might be easier if you at least tried to make friends here,” You said.

“Friends?” He lifted a brow. “Who should I start with? Stark? Oh, I’m sure he’d be open to a little reconciliation. Or maybe Rogers? Hmm? He really seems the forgiving type. Or that little redhead thing? She seems peaceable.”

“You could begin with me,” You offered. “I’m not here to provoke you.”

He blinked and shifted in his chair.

“Have I been unkind?” He wondered.

“Not exactly,” You answered. “But not everything needs to be a… snipe.”

He considered you and his hand spread over the binder.

“It wasn’t meant to be,” He said evenly. “I bear you no hostility, though perhaps I do owe you an apology.”

“Apology?” You echoed.

“Regardless of the circumstance, I said what I said that day, it was cruel and there is no excuse,” He said. “You were wounded and I would have watched you die. It might have been a different version of me, but it was me. I apologise.”

“You don’t have to--” You touched your side without thinking. “Thank you.”

“And I will do my best to withhold my contempt. You do not deserve it.”

You were a bit shocked by his candour. You pressed your lips together and straightened the binder in front of you.

“That’s a good start,” You said. “So, now that’s cleared up…”

“What page was it?” He nodded and looked to his binder. He leaned it against the edge of the table as his eyes roved over the tight font.

🐍

The rest of the week went much the same. However, Tony’s plan to chip away at Loki seemed not to be working as your patience wore away and the Asgardian remained ever stoic. He was almost amused as he humoured your Midgardian codes.

Your weekend was well earned but didn’t allow for much rest. Steve was due to leave again that week so you had to squeeze what time you could out of him. It could be a couple days, or a week, or two. He could never really say and you never expected him to. You knew how it was when you got into the relationship.

All the while, you tried to catch up on the work delayed by Tony’s pointless ploy to drive Loki out. You hated that he had chosen you for this though you doubted he’d trust any other to do so.

On Monday, Loki was late. You were surprised. He had always been annoyingly early. You texted Steve and he replied with a heart emoji. The door whisked open and had your phone face down on the table. Loki sat heavily across from you, a scrape across his forehead and a split in his lip. His cheek was slightly swollen beneath his eye but he seemed barely fazed by his injuries.

“Oh my god,” You said. “What happened to you?”

“Training,” He smiled and hissed as the gesture pulled at the cut. “My brother… got a bit carried away.”

“And how does he look?”

“To the detriment of my pride, better than I do,” He said. “I did try to restrain myself, though my tongue does not obey me as well as my body.”

“Let me get you some ice,” You stood.

“Really, I’m fine.” He insisted.

“You’re bleeding.” You said as blood began to trickle from the split in his lip.

“I thought I’d stemmed it,” He reached up. “Forgive my lateness.”

“That’s the last thing I’m worried about,” You scoffed. “One second.”

You went to the kitchen and grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and the first aid kit from beneath the counter. You returned to Loki and set your wares down. You flipped open the metal box and grabbed an alcohol wipe.

“Did you clean the cuts at least?” You asked.

“I can handle it,” He assured you.

“Sorry, sorry,” You flicked the packet. “I sound just like my mother right now.”

“I do appreciate it though.”

He took the little paper packet and tore it open. He blindly wiped the cut along his hairline and that on his lip. You offered him some gauze and he thanked you before he pressed it to his lip. When the blood slowed, he grabbed the ice pack and held it to his cheek.

He stood and you quickly backed away as he tossed his mess in the bin. You packed up the kit as he sat again.

“Thank you,” He said again and you pushed aside the metal box.

“You know, it’s not too uncommon to have a bloody lip here,” You rounded the table and sat across from him. “You good though?”

“Very,” He said with a slight smirk. “I have been anticipating this section most fervently.” He opened the file before him. “Office etiquette. I suppose I am sorely lacking in that.”

You almost laughed at his quip. He wasn’t so cold as that first day and you no longer saw the villainous invader before you. You saw someone wildly out of place. For a moment, you felt bad for him. The glimmer in his eyes quickly smothered it and you wondered for a moment. This was Loki; he could more than handle himself.

🐍

Steve showed up only a couple hours later and waved at you through the glass. He had his bag. He was leaving. You tried not to stutter as you continued reading through the clauses before you and Loki seemed barely bothered by your momentary lapse. You swept a paper out of another folder.

“So, another pop quiz,” You said sourly. “While you fill that out, I’ll just excuse myself for a moment.”

“Very well,” He accepted and played with the pen.

“Ten minutes.” You promised as you stood and slid the paper to him.

He nodded and looked dully at the sheet. You hurried around the table and out into the hall. Steve retreated and you followed so you could not be seen through the transparent wall.

“Going?” You asked glumly.

“I shouldn’t be long. It’s an easy in and out.” He rubbed your arm.

“Oh? And who’s going with you?” You asked.

“Um, Sam,” He said.

“Ha, sure, easy,” You kidded.

“And what about him?” Steve nodded to the conference room. “How long’s this gonna take?”

“Well, with all Tony’s bookmarks, probably the rest of my life,” You grumbled.

“Gee,” He frowned. “I don’t envy you.”

“Rub it in,” You huffed. “I’ll miss you.”

“You too,” He leaned in to kiss you.

Your lips met and you grabbed onto his shoulder. You wanted to kiss him forever just to make him stay. But he had to go and you had to get back to work.

“While interoffice relationships are permitted so long as the proper legal protocol is followed, open displays of affection are prohibited as they are unprofessional and unseemly in the workplace and may lead to discomfort of others.” Loki’s voice cut through the air.

You pulled away from Steve and looked to him aghast. You heard Steve sigh and he hitched his duffle up on his arm. Loki held up the paper and grinned.

“Sorry to interrupt but I finished and… well, I think I’ve learned a lot,” He taunted.

“Apparently,” You turned back to Steve as he glared at Loki. “Sorry, I gotta go but… let me know when you can that you’re safe.”

“Of course,” He tore his eyes from Loki. “I love you.”

“You too,” You patted his chest. “See ya.”

“Yeah,” He shook his head and shot Loki one last sneer. “Bye.”

You watched Steve go and turned back to Loki. You hid your irritation and neared to take his paper.

“Thanks,” You said as you swept back into the conference room.

You sat and checked his work. Perfect, as ever. You were certain he didn’t care about any of this but he never wavered. You added it to the pile and looked up at him. He leaned back in his chair coolly.

“Did I pass, teacher?” He teased.

“Why did you do that?” You asked.

“Just practicing my learning,” He smirked.

You shook your head at him and flipped the page.

“Moving on,” You said.

“Must be difficult. Being apart so much.”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” You said. “It’s personal.”

“Apologies,” He said. “I was only attempting small talk.”

“It’s okay,” You said. “I just… to be quite honest, I’m cursing Tony as much as you probably are.”

🐍

Another week of tedium and you were ready to tap out. And you were further irritated that Loki showed no sign of distress. He was just as cool as ever as you went through the ridiculous mandates. Just as irksome as you glanced at your phone between sections. His curious, almost taunting eyes, lit up along with your screen.

But you kept on and on Friday, you let him leave a full twenty minutes early. You stayed another hour as you caught up on the rest of your workload. You barely made a dent but you just wanted to go home and hide in bed. Your empty bed. You hoped Steve would return soon.

You yawned as you drove to your building. Your fatigue mounted as you rode the elevator to your floor and neared the door of your condo. It was unlocked. You hesitated and pushed inside. You blinked as you looked around. The lamp in the living room was on but no other light shone and nothing seemed out of place.

You stepped further inside as you dug your hand into your purse and clutched the can hidden in its depths. Another light came from your bedroom door and you carefully crept down the hall in your heels to peek inside. You pulled out the can and screamed as a shadow appeared in the doorway.

You didn’t have a chance to spray the mace as it was batted out of your hand and the surprised chuckle eased your fears. Steve grabbed your arms as he steadied you. He was freshly showered and smelled of his sandalwood soap. He wore only the pair of old grey sweats with the hole in the knee. You shook your head at yourself and smiled.

“When did you get back?” You asked.

“About an hour ago. Didn’t think I’d beat you home but I had to try,” His hands slipped from your arms and he embraced you. “You miss me?”

“Did you miss me?” You countered.

“Of course,” He bent and kissed your lips, rocking you slightly. He pulled away and lifted a brow. “You look tired. Too tired?”

You giggled and hit his chest. He released you and slid your purse from your arm.

“Don’t worry, I can do all the work,” He offered. “You just get… comfortable.”

He backed away and set your bag on his dresser. You glanced at the chair where you usually put it and shrugged. You stepped out of your shoes and tucked them down beside the dresser. You stood and removed your blazer. Steve moved slowly to the bed and dropped down on his stomach as he watched you, his head cradled in his hand.

You felt like blushing. He hadn’t been like this in a while. The last few times he returned, he’d been tired; quiet. You gave him his space and he came to you after a while. You knew he needed the chance to decompress but sometimes it felt like he thought your time without him was easier. That your job was easier.

You unbuttoned your blouse and tossed it over the chair, shimmied out of your trousers and let them wrinkle on the seat. Your back ached from sitting all day in the chair and your muscles were tense from weeks sitting across from Loki. He was easier to deal with but that little glimmer of paranoia remained.

You unhooked your bra and swung it around before you let it fly across the room. You laughed as Steve hummed and you teasing pushed your fingers under the elastic of your panties. You paused and gave him a cheeky look. He groaned and perked up.

“You need help?” He asked.

“Well, not with these,” You shoved the panties down your thighs and they fell to your feet. “But I wouldn’t mind a nice massage. My back is killing me.”

“Hmm,” He sat up. His pants did little to hide his impatience. “I could do a massage.”

He patted the bed as he shuffled back to the edge. You went to the bed and climbed up. You eased yourself down onto the mattress, your face nestled between the pillows as you sighed. His hand brushed your leg and ran up to squeeze your ass. He urged your legs apart and moved between them.

“You’re tense,” He said as he pushed his hands over your ass and up your back. His fingers traced the scar along your side and lingered there. It was always so sensitive and made you shiver.

“It’s been a long week,” You turned your head to speak.

“Oh yeah?” He wondered. “He… giving you a hard time?”

“Not really but… I don’t wanna think about work.”

“Then don’t,” He ran his thumbs along your shoulder blades and drew a groan from you.

You turned back to the pillows and stretched your arms up around your head. His hands kept moving, firm, attentive, magic. Your voice got louder and louder as he found the knots and the little aches perfectly. It was rare for him to be so thorough. Often he was thinking so much about what came next, he barely glossed across your flesh.

He gripped your hips and you felt his breath on your skin. He laid a trail of kisses along your back; lower, lower, lower. He dragged his lips over your ass and nibbled your thigh, then your other. He urged your pelvis up and you obliged. You bent your legs just a little to support yourself, your head buried in the pillows.

He got down on his elbows as he pushed his head between your legs and slid his tongue along your folds. He gently began to lap and your thighs began to tingle. The flick of his tongue grew more deliberate as he brought his hand up to tease your clit. He poked your entrance with his tongue and hummed.

Your fingers closed around the duvet and you lifted your head. You whined as you felt the pressure building. You breathed through your teeth and your entire body shook. You were surprised by your orgasm, how quickly it swelled and crashed. Your thighs quivered and you bit down on the corner of the pillow as you came.

He kept on and you whimpered. Your voice floated around you as your entire being buzzed. His purrs sent a shiver along your spine as his tongue kept on. Then you heard your name. A hollow tone. Confused, familiar.

The warmth of Steve’s mouth left your cunt and you turned. Frantic you stared at the man in the doorway of your bedroom. You looked between him and the identical figure kneeling on the end of the bed. What the fuck?

The Steve in the doorway stormed the other. They met at the end of the bed and you were almost crushed beneath them as you backed up against the headboard. Scared, you watched them tussle until they rolled onto the floor with a crash. The grunts were startlingly similar.

You crawled across the bed and looked down at the struggle. The panic brewed in your chest. You hopped off and grabbed the naked Steve’s shoulder.

“Get off! What’s going on?!” You pulled and found yourself flung back.

You tried to grab him again and found yourself drawn back by an invisible force around your neck. You were dragged back to the bed, almost choking as the blankets wrinkled beneath you as you tried to latch onto them. You stopped at the headboard and felt along your throat, a searing pain in your palm as the unearthly bound tightened.

You kicked out and the sounds of struggle seemed to fade. You heard Steve groan and watched the naked one stand. He went to the chair and dumped your clothes from it. He carried it to the end of the bed and lifted the other onto the seat. Eerie green lights wrapped around his wrists and ankles, a thicker one snaked around his throat and his lashes fluttered as he tried to blink away his daze.

“What--”

As the naked Steve turned to you, his blond hair darkened to black and his broad shoulders shrunk, a slightly slimmer and taller figure before you. You wriggled and tried to pull at the restraint at your throat once more. You hissed as your hands burned terribly and rescinded them.

“Why?” You kicked your legs and they were stilled by the same odd green glow. “Loki! Stop.”

“Stop? Why, dear…” He turned and slapped Steve’s cheek. Steve shook his head and his blue eyes seemed to focus. “...you were just starting to have fun.”

“Leave him alone,” You tried to get up but were drawn back even more. Your arms were forced out and your ankles tugged further apart. “Loki!”

“Oh, I love to hear my name on your lips,” He purred as he came closer.

He drew a slow circle in the air and your body turned so your head was at the foot of the bed. He knelt and turned your head as he pressed his lips to yours. He devoured you as he pushed his tongue into your mouth.

“Loki!” Steve barked and you heard the chair creak slightly before he cried out. “Lo-ki!” His voice was strained. “Don’t touch--”

Steve’s shouts fizzled out as Loki drew away. You were flipped sharply onto your stomach and you squealed as your head spun. Loki climbed up swiftly and straddled your ass. He ran his hands over your back and squeezed your shoulders.

He leaned over you and grabbed a handful of your hair. He lifted your head so your eyes met Steve’s.

“You want to hate me, Rogers, but you haven’t any reason,” He taunted. “So let me give you one.”

“What do you think Thor will do when he finds out? Tony will--”

“You can tell my brother but he’s forgiven me worse and Tony, well, he could have an unfortunate accident in that lab of his,” Loki slithered. “Or maybe this darling little toy might break before I’m done with her. Pity.”

“You--”

“Would.” Loki insisted as he dropped your head and sat back. He hit the back of your head roughly. “This isn’t love, Rogers. It’s not even a crush. This is just… fun.” His fingers crept down your back as he slid back. “Oh, wouldn’t it be a scandal; the golden avenger murders his own lover. Even if it was an accident, well, that serum of yours… dangerous stuff.”

“No one would believe--” Steve choked before he could finish.

“You think I couldn’t make them? What reason do I have to frame you? And it would be easy enough to stage it all.” Loki preened as he poked between your legs. He rubbed your folds as he spoke. “What they believe hardly matters if she’s gone, eh, Rogers?”

You croaked as the force squeezed your neck and you flailed as you gulped for breath.

“Stop! Stop!” Steve pleaded. The pressure relented and you coughed and gasped. “Loki, please… don’t hurt her.”

“Oh, I never intended to hurt her,” Loki shoved his fingers inside you and you whimpered. “In fact, quite the opposite. Weren’t you having fun, darling?” You closed your eyes and he pinched your thigh. “Darling?”

“Y-yes,” You murmured into the mattress. “Please--”

“Shhh, you don’t have to beg,” He keened. “But I do love to hear it.”

He pushed his legs between yours as he continued to finger you. You could hear Steve’s heavy, angry breaths. Your own were shallow and frantic. Loki spread his fingers and you felt another prod at your entrance. He held you open as he slipped in; two fingers still in you as his cock stretched your walls.

He impaled you and pulled his fingers out. He sighed as he wiggled his pelvis and lifted your ass. He got even deep as his hands grasped your hips. You sniffled as you fought the heat behind your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Steve uttered. You heard the chair wobble but still again as he let out an agonized growl.

“No,” You gulped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t--”

Loki pulled back and slammed into you. You squeaked and he did it again.

“You can have your little reunion when I’m done,” He thrust so hard the bed jolted with each tilt of his hips. “Oh, look at her. She’s shaking again.”

He sped up, a little at a time, until he was hammering into you. You ached from his relentless rhythm and tugged against the bonds. He bent over you and hooked his arms under your shoulders and pulled you up. He bounced you against him, your thighs draped over his as he worked your body.

You bit your lips and turned your head. You couldn’t look at Steve.

“He can’t look away,” Loki whispered in your ear. “I made sure of it.”

You whined as he continued to use you. His hand slid down to your clit as his other arm wrapped around your chest. He pounded into you from below as he began to rub. You felt the same sudden rise. The same irresistible tickle. You gritted your teeth and moaned.

You let out a pathetic sob as you came. Your entire body convulsed and you pushed your head back against Loki’s shoulder. His breath glossed over your cheek and he bent to press his lips to your flesh. He nuzzled further down and bit into your neck. He snarled as he thrust into you hard and deep.

He shuddered as his hips spasmed and he rocked through his orgasm. He came inside you, a sickly flood of warmth. Your arms were kept suspended to either side of you as you struggled to get away from him. You hung your head and squeezed your eyes shut.

He pulled out and let you fall forward. You caught your breath and slowly moved your hand to your throat. You raised yourself shakily and looked to Steve. His eyes were glassy, his lips parted, his face pale.

“Steve,” You reached out to him.

As you made to climb off the bed, you flew back to the mattress, flat on your back. Loki strode around the bed as he snickered. He pushed his long hair away from his face.

“Now, now, you don’t think that’s it, darling.” He licked his lips as he came to the end of the bed and stood between you and Steve. “We have two weeks to make up for. Two. Grueling. Weeks.”

#loki #Steve Rogers #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark loki x reader #dark!loki x reader #fic #one shot #marvel #mcu #dark fic #dark!fic #oneshot

653 notes · View notes

sharpwin101 · 4 years ago

Text

“EVERYTHING I DID, I DID FOR YOU”

N.B. Hey guys, I'm re-uploading this narrative due to previous grammar, spelling, punctuation, etc. mistakes. I'm completely bad at proofreading lol, and didn't take the time to read over, but after receiving some very impactful feedbacks on twitter, it gave me the motivation I needed to somewhat correct these mistakes🤞hopefully enough, finishing this fanfic, which I must say I'm quite excited for you guys to read.

S2 EP16 “EVERYTHING I DID, I DID FOR YOU”,

CHAPER 1

I don't get it? As tears stream down her cheeks,

Her thoughts raced as she remained in front of her bathroom mirror long enough to get agitated by her own self-pity.

She understood that harboring such feelings would not only be self-destructive, but would keep her trapped, she was mentally stronger, and refuses to let it sabotage the barrier she has construct throughout the years.

She knew conquering and embracing Max’s indecisiveness, was just a question of time. That continues to fail him terribly, repeatedly, to define them, what they meant to each other, wondering how much longer, if not impossible, it will be for him to embrace and overcome his own fetters to unleash what he truly feels.

Will he ever? she’s impel to believed, naively unaware of her imperceptiveness to his true desire, behind his barriers, causing her to suspect mistakenly,

Questing “does he feels the same”

She paces back and forth, flipping her heels off with a small grimace, scattering them on the floor.

Fervently turning to her living room, with an instant wipe of her tears, in the direction of the liquor cupboard, pulling the first wine bottle her hand came across, desperate for a wine opener, she run-walk towards the kitchen, leaving nearly all of the drawers open while probing through.

She spotted the opener. Yes, yes! Clutches it obstinately, relieved.

As she holds the bottle inverted between her knees, she struggled to open it a bit, her mind still being indistinct after their encounter, temporarily forgotten how to open the wine bottle.

(The wine cork flew free)

She hastily turns it to her head, gulping it down as if she didn't have time to consume it a bit slower, inadvertently spilling it on her.

Crap!

Returning to the bathroom in search of her robe, while undressing herself and gulping more wine down her throat.

Being the clean freak she is, immediately after, she brought her clothing towards the laundry room, as she senses the impending intoxication looming over her.

(Crash)The wine bottle slipped from her deft grip and shattered on the floor.

she slowly slumped to the floor, leaning against the laundry door for support grappling to sit up. While her clothes slowly unfold from her arms, As she casts a longing glare into space.

She ruminate aloud, frustratedly.

What is wrong with me? Staring up towards the roof, as though she was seeking answers to all of life's unanswered questions from a greater Entity.

Why I’m I so unlucky?

I fought on, knowing that I wasn't even sure whether I'd be ready too, if you chose me then or now, she added, laughing.

All the walls I've worked so hard to build, comes crumbling down whenever I see, I can’t comprehend it.

As she gently holds the nape of her neck, breathing deeply, with her left hand supporting her head, while facing down. I don't want to lose control; I can't lose control.

You say these significant things,

you look at me in the way you do, and then you do nothing? How can I fight for that?

You asked me why I did what I did, despite the fact that you already knew the answer. I asked you to define us;

what exactly, this, we are? as she motioned for answers

I've given you so much, and I tried so hard not to but it's as if all my rationale goes out the window when you're in danger. (laughing sarcastically at her self).

For God sake, you yelled at me.......... whenever I try to help.

I have these fantasies about you before getting out of bed, I've tried to ignore it; believe me, I have (laughing)

now I'm just here talking to myself.

As her gaze wandered around the room, she became irritated by the smashed wine bottle.

“ FIGHT FOR US”,

CHAPERT 2

(KNOCKING) She tilted her head, confusedly glancing towards the front door, wondering if it was the alcohol or someone was actually at the door.

Struggling to get up from the floor, as she continues to listen attentively to hear whether the knocking was coming from her front door. She slightly slipped when grabbing for her phone on the kitchen counter, to check the time.

11:43pm

Tightening her robe as she wiped her face, pondering, a few names flashed through her mind, But why would they not call? silently muttering to herself. Her phone started to ring as soon as the knocking ceased. Resuming her attention to her phone, which lids up, displaying "Dr. Max Goodwin” with a slight discontent look, she responded, still gazing at the door, nervously biting down on her index finger.

What, what do you want? She answered.

"I'm at your door; will you let me in?". Quickly swallowing her saliva, her heart races, instantly lowering her phone to her side, with a million thoughts rushes through her head as she looked at the messed she had created, quickly ending his call. She began picking up her clothes from the floor and rushed to the washroom, staring at her flushed face, unbothered at this point and didn't care whether he noticed she was crying.

She trudged towards the front door, spotting her bed slippers and pulls them on. Briefly pausing before opening the door.

There he was, standing in front of her. Casually dressed, in blue jeans, a grey t-shirt, and his black jacket, which she had seen him in before.

Trying not to look into his eyes, but he has already peered right into hers. Struck by how small and delicate she looks outside the walls of the hospital, becoming completely lost in her eyes, unable to speak. 'Um, I... What are you doing here? she asked, before he could finish his sentence.

Were you crying? With a slight head tilt, she rolled her eyes irritably as she turns her back on him, leaving the door ajar. What are you doing here, Max?, her voice raised rather than normal. The frustration in her voice perplexed him. I wanted to ‘Um, before noticing the shattered wine bottle on her floor.

As she reaches to get the mob and dustpan from the storage area adjacent to her kitchen. He watches her as she teeters, shutting the drawers that she left open earlier.

As she approaches the spilt wine on the floor, she kept her eyes lowered trying not to look him into his. He detects her shakiness as she extends the broom over the shattered wine bottle. No! he said, with no intent, to say it so loudly. Reaching his hands towards the broom.

Let me help, she still persisted. He gently withdrew the broom from her grasp when she walked away towards another section of her apartment, as his eyes followed her.

He disposed the shattered glass in the trash can, placing the mob and dustpan into the already opened storeroom.

In search of her, he returned to the living room area. noticing she had her back to him, curled up on her couch in a sitting position, fully wrapped in a blanket that matches the color of his shirt.

He stood behind her for minute before approaching.

Placing his hand on her shoulder as he walks to the side of the couch. She shivers at his touch just enough for it to go unnoticed while still looking down.

Seating next to her, he tries to get her attention. Helen, she did not respond. I'm sorry.... As he questioned. Are you okay? Placing her right palm on her forehead, displaying a tiny discomfort. She muttered, I have a minor headache. ‘Um, do you have any pain relievers? Instantly patted his forehead after, quickly realizing she wouldn't be able to take it seeing that she was drinking. Hastily corrects himself, do you want me to make you some tea? she fixes her gaze on him.

Please let me make you tea, while he makes his usual puppy eyes at her.

She gave her approval with a nod. Where are your…...? Instructing him with a finger while drawing the blanket back up to her shoulders. He stood up lively, walking towards her kitchen, absolutely taken aback by how tidy and organized her apartment looked.

Already knowing what kind of tea because they both enjoy it the same, reaching into the pantry for the box of tea bags on the lower shelf, pulling a cup from the washer and placing it on the hot water kettle. He spoons in 1/2 teaspoon of sugar exactly how she likes it. While leaning his back on the counter.

As he waited for the water to heat up, he indulged in his thoughts, gazing around her kitchen.

The whistling from the kettle stopped, with relieved he turned around, adding the hot water to the tea bag and returning to her,

With a wide smile on his face, he hands her the cup, she noticed he didn't have his wedding ban, she looked into his eyes as her hands extends to take the cup. He noticed that she noticed, with a little distance between them, he sat beside her in silence.

on her third sip of tea, he glances at her and proceeded to apologize.

I should never have let you walk out that door, ‘I, I.... I have tried to hide this. It's been hard,

It almost drove me completely insane. As she looked at him, intently listening

I've tried to hold back, since the day we met.......................... It's been eating me alive knowing I felt this way while being married and had already started a family,

but I can't deny that I haven't felt this, not any more, he remarked, shaking his head.

For the longest time, I felt guilty, knowing I had felt this way about you,

if I let you slip out of my life, without trying, to fighting for us, I will not survive it,

I see you, Helen. it’s just that sometimes it takes me a minute, to remember what matters more than anything, you.

He drew closer to her, as she sets the tea cup on the center table. Helen,

I’m ready to fight. Fight for you, for Us.

Every time you've been near me, I've wanted to do stuff to you, imagining what it would be like.

You are undeniably BEAUTIFUL and sexy, and I need to have you, in all the ways I have been dreaming of.

She swallows her nonexistent saliva as he got closer. With her mouth partially open, uncontrollably batting her eyes at him. She searches his eyes, while he searches hers for permission, to touch her, intimately. Placing his left hand on the right side of the back of her neck sliding his fingers upward, gently holding on to her hair, a rush of adrenaline prickled her stomach, as he watched the whooshing of her breathing, thinking how soft on silky the growths of her hair felt.

She needed him to touched her, she needed to grip him closer, but her body was weak, weak to his touch. As they stared intensely at each other, their faces being only a few inches apart, tightening his grip on her hair, causing her to slightly tilted her head back, finally freeing of her temporary paralysis, she grabs hold to his muscular arm with her left hand, while clutching his side with her other hand.

He knew he was in charge, and she wanted him, his lips being a inch closer to hers, her eyelids, fill down slowly closing.

Their lips touch, as their bodies tingles, her chest rises, left her feeling like she had no air. The instant chemistry they felt, was uncontrollable. His thinking slowed when his lips met hers. Time becoming unknown, as if he were in a dream, how warm and crazily soft her lips were.

As they draw each other deeper and further into each other's sanctum, thrusting herself up with a knee for support.

Has he pauses, looking intently into her eyes, slowly begin rolling her robe over her shoulder.

In complete awe of how clear and smooth her skin appears, while stirring her down. He notices she was wearing a black lace bra that matches her thong, which complemented her skin tone well, lost in her eyes, before entirely removing her robe. As she gets back up on both knees, yanking his jacket off, while he impatiently helped her to removed his shirt.

Unbuckling his belt, she unzip his jeans. Holding her by the lower portion of her cheeks, he punches his tongue into her mouth. Resting his back on the couch, hoisted her up on top of him.

feeling her body, with both his hands on her waist, recognizing how small it was in comparison to her hips, being considerably wider. She bends her knees and places her hands on the couch over his shoulder. As his tongue trails down her neck, while unclipping her bra, struggling a little.

Carefully pulling it off, her hands fill to her side, looking down at him, when he stroked her breast with his hands, causing her head to fall back uncontrollably, as a rush of adrenaline went to her vulva, gasping harder as he places his mouth over her tit, slowly sliding his hand into her thong concomitantly.

He gave her a look, realizing she was already lubricated, as she gasped for breath somewhat dropping her upper body backwards as his hand quickly supported her back, her mouth flew wide open, when he slid his index and middle finger in an upward motion on her clit.

She moaned loudly as he stroked it faster, her body slipping in and out of his grip, being a fraction of a second from an orgasm, he halted.

He hoisted her up positioning her back laying on the couch, with one of his hands intertwined with hers above her head. He opens her legs slightly with his bent knee, while she bends her knees up to give him access. Passionately kissing her while caressing her clit with his right fingers. Her heart races. As he drags his tongue in between her breasts, he releases her hands as he went down further, trailing his tongue towards her navel, causing her tummy to jerked.

He elevates his head up as he pulls himself down more to her vulva, while holding on to her hips. He tasted her, swiftly clinging to the cushion behind her, unable to keep her legs steady as he licks her clit. (she rapidly gasp for air).

She weakly tries to pull him up, with her orgasm being at it’s peek, moving back towards her lips, as they exchanged sensual glances. Using his hands as a support to keep himself upright while holding on to his already-erected dick. He puts the blanket under her back to elevate her slightly.

Penetrating her. Max, she screamed, quivering and gasping for breath, as she looks deeply into his eyes, attempting to caress the side of his face, (while she bit her bottom lip, as he went in deeper, she clutches onto him.

His sweat drips on her skin, as he moans, they couldn’t get enough of each other.

As he penetrates deeper, harder and faster inside her, he tightens his grasp around her waist. As they drew closer, their moans became more even louder.

Fuck! he shouted as he ejaculated his semen into her, simultaneously in the instant of her orgasm relief. They both felt to the ground. Looking at each other, completely in awe.

He extends his hand to the side of her face, pulling her in, to cuddled her.

#new amsterdam #helen sharpe #max goodwin #freema agyeman #ryan eggold #helen #max #nbc #nbc new amsterdam #sharpwin

23 notes · View notes

ratisnotcrying · 4 years ago

Text

dont let him go

prompt: this is part two to 'youll get him back' and would make more sense if u read that first but honestly just live ur life

pairings: peter jakes/endeavour morse

warnings: mentionas of past violence, mild injury description, emotions

word count: 1.2K

~~~

“Will you do something for me?” She asked, passing him his jacket.

“Yes, I will take the rest of my time off to rest.”

“No, well yes, but-” Monica ducked her head to catch Morse’s eye, “will you go and speak to him? Please, I think it’d be good for you.”

He only hesitated for a moment, “Okay, I will. Thank you. And, thank you, for the cab.”

~~~

“Morse!”

He spun around, not quite able to hide a small smile as he apologised to the taxi driver and walked towards the other car.

“I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Drive you home?” Jakes was frowning but still opened the door and gestured Morse inside.

“I’m not going to vanish.” Endeavour’s voice was soft, holding Peter’s heart and soothing it’s racing beat.

“You did.”

They couldn’t stop talking, though they weren't saying much worth anything. The silence must be filled. Someone had put the record player on.

“I really thought you were going to die,” Peter said, poking idly at his mushy peas, “I thought that- “

“‘Please, love’.”

“What?”

“The last thing that I actually remember is you saying that. And then I didn’t see you for a week.” Morse says - more an observation than an accusation.

“I did come. To the hospital, that is.” He reached across and took a few chips off Morse’s plate, “The first day you were in there you were unconscious, or sleeping maybe, but I was there.”

“You didn’t come after that?”

“Okay, okay. I understand. It’s just- I wish you had come to see me.”

“Right, well I'll remember that for next time you nearly die.”

“Knowing me that won't be too long.”

~~~

“I’m still not going to vanish.” Endeavour croaked. Peter sat up against the headboard and plucked the half finished cigarette from Morse’s fingers, tugging Endeavour on top of him.

Peter ghosted his fingers across Morse’s shoulders, up towards the scabbed wound and back down again.

Endeavour shifted, pushing his face further into Peter’s neck.

Peter watched the cigarette burning down to the filter.

Peter took a shuddering breath and let sleep take him once more.

~~~

“You should eat something, Dev.”

“We should go for a walk later.”

For now, they sat, fingers intertwined on top of the tiny table. Peter’s fingers twitched as if to hold tighter. Endeavour tightened his grip a little.

“I’m not going anywhere, love.”

~~~

a/n: i started this months ago but was ever quite happy with it… oh well here it is!! okay so i started this in may and its almost november now so… sorry? anyways

#itv endeavour #Endeavour Morse #peter jakes #hurt/comfort #previous injury #lmk if i need to tag anything else

7 notes · View notes

jasonspetertodds · 4 years ago

Text

catharsis of a kind

warnings: swearing, familial fighting, mention of character death

Jason flicked on the light in the hallway, gun pointed directly at the intruder in his kitchenette. He could hear the rain hammering relentlessly against the double pane windows in his living room, the crack of thunder shaking his apartment building down to the foundation. His boots squeaked on the hard wood floors, water logged. He could feel the water bubble up from between his toes every time his took a step. Jason was dripping wet as he tracked a raindrop that ran down the sharp cut of his chin, pooling into a picture perfect droplet before splashing onto the floor. He ignored the blood on his jacket.

Jason didn’t holster his gun, instead he stalked further into his apartment, glaring as he reached for the kettle on the stove. He did not look, nor address the man hunched over his breakfast bar, instead opting for a silent kind of resentment. His flicked on the tap with his wrist, gun still trained on his target forcing himself not to snarl. He was met with nothing more than a deafening silent judgement and maybe the absent sweep of the cape.

Jason could’ve laughed.

Instead, he grabbed a mug from his cabinet and settled for peppermint tea. Jason didn’t know why he was here, didn’t care how he knew about this particular safe house, Jason just wanted him gone. He sneered, clicking on his stove and waiting for the kettle to boil. Nothing had changed. And Batman was out of his mind if he thought Jason was going to willingly help him on any case. He narrowed his eyes, watching out of the corners. Jason wasn’t going to be the first one to crack.

The kettle whistled, high and loud breaking the silence as another wave of rain pounded against his windows. Those were the only two sounds that broke the silence around them. Jason gently lifted it off the open flame, shutting off the gas before pouring himself a mug of it and leaving his tea seep. He set his jaw, flexing it as if he were gnawing on a bit like a racehorse. He wasn’t going to break, but he could feel the annoyance and frustration claw at the inside of his chest. He didn’t want any fucking Bats in his home.

Especially when that Bat was Nightwing playing dress up.

Jason took a sip of his tea, turning, not even bothering to hid the obvious disgust on his face. He titled his head, observing the man before him, daring him to speak. Dick managed a sigh. Oh, Jason was so close to laughing. The dark, devoid of humor kind of laugh. Instead, he deepened his sneer over the lip of his mug.

“Hood--”

“What the fuck do you want?” Jason cut him off, voice showing the agitation that was gripping his throat and pooling in his naval. White hot fury clouding his vision at the idea of Dick Grayson having the audacity to come lecture him.

Dick looked like he was about to snap right back at his younger brother, mouth forming a hard, straight line under the cowl. His jaw set in a way that could crack a chunk of diamonds. Good. Dick wanted to fight and Jason was never one to back down from a fight.

“What the fuck do you want, Dick?” Jason repeated, even more malice in his tone as he set his mug down on the counter. It was a warning, but it was also an invitation. It was a taunt. A push over the edge and a hunk of raw steak swaying in front of a starving predator. Jason had spent the last two years watching Dick Grayson maintain this spotless fascade of being completely, undeniably perfect. No traceable anger. Nothing beside the carefully constructed act he put up for the public and his family. Jason knew better. No matter what bullshit Dick had been peddling that had everyone else fooled, Jason wasn’t buying it. The man still had a temper with the shortest fuse and biggest explosion of pure, unadulterated rage Jason had ever seen.

Jason couldn’t have competed when he was younger, scared of if Bruce would throw him out, or disown him. Which, figures, took a little longer than he expected, but still technically happened. Couldn’t have competed when he was hurting from every kid in Gotham’s idol and someone he hadn’t done anything to hate his guts. When the person who he looked up to hadn’t hesitated to say some fucked up things to a fourteen year old. No, instead that had grown into spite. It was death that nursed it into anger. And the worst part was, Jason knew the Pit hadn’t altered those memories. He watched those eyes flashed behind the cowl, a snarl in place. Dick had come here to fight, but now Jason could compete and he wasn’t going to be cornered in his own home.

He remembered the knock out fights Bruce had with his oldest son, Jason was used to screaming, and now Dick had the audacity to chastise Jason for his relationship with the Bat. It didn’t help that he was currently dressed like him. Jason felt himself grinding his molars into dust in the back of his throat, vein popping.

He was already on edge with the storm, and yeah, Jason absolutely obliterated some lines that B would never cross-- but he really couldn’t stand the man that was only an older brother to the youngest of them trying to tell him murder was wrong. Jason knew Dick had throttled the Joker, the clown that had killed him, and strangled him to death. Tim had mentioned it off-offhandedly, half still high on fear toxin. Jason inwardly scoffed. Who was Dick to come in his home and lecture him about ethics? What good does arguing about how terrible murder is do when both people in the conversation were murderers? How dare he judge Jason for wanting to do something he had already done. Not to mention the faults of their shared adoptive father, who’s moral code was more important than his sons, apparently.

Jason felt the same white hot fury flood that blinded him in his core, licking at the sides of his stomach as he watched a flash of lightning streak outside his windows, striking down one of the antennas on the building just across the street, the sickening crack of thunder rumbling overhead once more, making his stomach churn. No, he didn’t know why Batman was there. Not at all.

When he didn’t respond, Jason felt himself get somehow more agitated. He was already on edge. He was always on edge nowadays. It’s not like he had anyone in this city that he could trust. He lowered his chin, snarling, “What the fuck is it that you could possibly be here to lecture me on? Because we both know you’re not here to ask for my help.”

Jason saw the gauntlets of Batman clutch the edges of his island countertop, digging in until it would crack under the pressure and do nothing but draw blood from who had hurt it. The gun was still trained on the man before him when he answered, just as aggressive, “What the fuck is your problem?”

“What the fuck is my problem?” Jason echoed, very close to yelling as he took a threatening step forward, “What the fuck is my problem? You broke into my goddamn apartment looking for a fight.”

“I’m not looking for a fucking fight--” Batman stood up. Too bad Jason was taller than both Bats.

“Then what the fuck are you here for?”

“I don’t--” Dick started, hands shaking as he clenched them into fists at his sides. He opened his mouth to continue his original statement, maybe repeating it without as much hesitation, before Jason saw something in his expression shift. He apparently aborted the entire first half of that thought as he asked, “Why the fuck do you want to fight?”

“I don’t.” Jason responded automatically. His voice was still rough around the edges but he was calm in only the way he could be when he was telling the truth. “You’re avoiding the question.”

Jason’s second statement didn’t seem to matter, since Dick was so adamant on latching onto the first, clarifying with a bit more vitriol than Jason supposed he had meant, “You don’t want to fight?”

Jason rolled his eyes, knowing if he didn’t take the bait there was absolutely no way that he was ever going to get the answer to his question and Dick out of his house. He sneered at how much his older brother was resembling the Bat, in more than just appearance. His voice was hard, “No.”

Batman scoffed, a flash of too bright teeth against the cowl as he smiled in disbelief, “Then why the fuck are you so aggressive?”

“I’ve always been aggressive,” Jason answered immediately. He took another sip of his tea, ignoring the lie, before saying, “Take the cowl off. It’s never you talking when its on.”

He saw his older brother’s eyes flash beneath that cowl at the comment before matching Jason’s sneer as he roughly tugged it off of his head. Jason made no move to take off his mask and his brother didn’t comment on his lips pressed into a grim line as he addressed him again, “That’s not true.”

Jason shifted, his head titled the tiniest bit as he raised an eyebrow, studying the planes of the older man’s face. He looked tired, the usual spark of intensity faded in his eyes. Maybe it was a long night, but Jason was willing to bet it had more to do with the fact that his brother was playing a role that he didn’t want to, didn’t agree with but did out of a stubborn sense of fucked up duty. It wasn’t that Dick didn’t play a good Batman, because he did. Jason thought it had more to do with the fact that there wasn’t much freedom in that Batsuit, it was made for a very different man after all. Not that there was a lot of freedom in dressing up as one of your murder’s alter egos, but Jason had willing chosen his moniker and forced it to bend to his will to mold and fit whatever image he wanted. Dick couldn’t do the same, ironically Bruce’s stubbornness wore through even when he wasn’t present.

“You weren’t always aggressive.” Dick said softly.

Jason acknowledged the statement in silence, watching. He didn’t really like where this was going, especially when they were already derailed. But that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? That everyone in his family that had known him before had preconceived notions of who he was? Barring Alfred, Jason always felt like he was trying to live up to the kid that died. Jason knew that was jarring, he lived through it, but it had been three years. He had changed a lot when he came back, but in the three years he’d been back he’d changed a lot too.

In the eyes of everyone around him who he’d known, he’d come back wrong.

“You were a sweet kid, Jay.”

Jason snorted with a sense of cynicism seeping into his tea. Like Dick would know.

“It’s kind of hard to find the capacity to be sweet when everyone in your life is measuring you up against a sixteen year old that died battered and bloody in a warehouse.”

“Jason…”

“Look,” Jason pressed on, placing the coffee cup down next to him, trying to show that he wasn’t trying to start a fight, “I can’t imagine how my death effected everyone. I can see the remnants,” He cringed, “The salt being thrown into open wounds when something happens, but I was never here to witness it first hand. It’s not something that I can grasp, even if I try. Just like how none of you can imagine what it was like for me.”

He heard Dick suck in a sharp breath next to him but he pressed on, gritting his teeth as he stared at the countertop, “None of you will ever know what it was like to be one second staring down the bomb that was counting down on your chest, feeling the heat, the force of it going off and being able to feel all the pain that comes with that. And for a second, you’re brain catches up to process it through the chorus of your nerves screaming and there’s a hysterical moment where you know you’re alive. Dead people don’t feel pain. Only for that moment to be ripped away from you—“

He took a deep breath in, his hands clutching the countertop around them once they started to shake. He swiveled his head upward, owlishly, looking Dick directly in the eyes as he continued, voice low and cracking, “Death itself wasn’t bad. It was a moment of relief. Nothing hurt, it was just black like just before you fall into a dream. It was nice. For a moment. Up until a minute later I wake up in my own grave, sustaining all my same injuries and hearing the fucking clown’s laugh echo in my ears. Do you know how disorienting that is?”

Jason answered for him, “No. You don’t. And I hope you never do.”

“I don’t know how or why, but I know the Joker was resurrected and I know that you killed him.”

Dick flinched. Jason was staring directly at him now, even through the whites of his domino mask he knew his brother could feel the weight of his gaze on him. Jason continued on, knowing it had to have been a culmination of Tim, Jason, and Barbara that drove him to do it. Jason didn’t care. He just wished that members of Batman + Team would acknowledge what they were capable of. He knew that a burden like that, no matter how good intentioned weighed a man like Dick Grayson down to the depth of the Mariana trench and he shouldn’t have to carry that. No one should've put him through that much to make him snap to begin with. But, thus was the life that they lead.

“I’m going to kill him, Dick.” Jason broke the silence, gently.

“Jay…”

He put his hand up, stopping his brother in his tracks, knowing Dick was at least more pragmatic and not as blinded by his own moral code to know that his issue with killing was how it would affect his brother, “I know. I shouldn’t have to, you don’t want me to carry that on my conscience, I shouldn’t have to play judge jury and executioner for my own twisted sense of morality and what’s good for the Gotham people.”

He stood up, watching his brother watch him with weary eyes, “But this isn’t about keeping the city of Gotham safe, Dickie. I’m not afraid to admit that this is purely selfish and I am willing to risk my place in this family—“

“Jason— we wouldn’t disown you for killing your murderer.” Dick cut in, and Jason could read the hurt written across his face that Jason would think after what he had done he would disown his little brother.

“You wouldn’t.” Jason reaffirmed, nodding directly to the bat symbol painted across his chest, his voice barely above a whisper, “But he would.”

“Jay. That’s not true,” He tried to deny, stepping closer to him before Jason shrugged him off. He was still shaking his head as he continued, “It’s not! He didn’t disown me—“

“Dickie,” Jason said softly, resignation clear in his tone, “S'its different with you.”

“He didn’t disown Damian,” He pressed on, voice hard, that was different too, it was excused because B hadn't known his son yet, about his son yet. But before Jason could break into the conversation the older man pressed on, “And it doesn’t matter that it’s different. I know it is. But Bruce… Bruce adores you, Jay. He loves you more than any of us.”

Jason full on snorted, “I don't think that's love, Dickie. I think it's a misguided notion clinging onto a memory of a boy that never fully existed. Not like that. And even if it was love and not a weird worship of a memory that his mind conjured up from grief..."

He trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut underneath his domino, trying with all of his power to keep himself from melting down like a nuclear power core, he took a deep breath, "B and I have our issues, Dick, but I can't-- I can't let that monster keep roaming around. Not for my own sanity."

Jason wanted so badly to strip off his domino mask in that second and he would've if he had any doubt that Dick Grayson couldn't read his pleading eyes under the mask as he hunched forward, looking for some form of salvation-- of safety-- from that monster. Dick closed his eyes for a second, seemingly giving up on arguing the point that Bruce loved him. Jason didn't think he did and he didn't want to let himself fall into the dangerous trap of thinking that Bruce did. His entire existence was harrowing but that... that might break him. He knew Dick would try to bring it up later, but Jason couldn't shield himself emotionally right now and he hoped that his brother didn't press.

He couldn't take it. He was already laid bare and he knew that like a mouse trap, one wrong move and he would violently close himself off to the world again. He absently recognized the cloak of a cape brushing his floorboards as Dick stepped closer. their eyes once again meeting briefly.

Dick had the expression of sheer, unadulterated determination, his jaw once again set in the way it always was when any of them were going to bend something to their will, but his eyes were significantly softer than the beginning of the night. Jason had to squash the hope blooming like a too early spring flower in his chest when Batman nodded once, offering, "Okay." Jason felt relief flood him, instantly shaking while all of his muscles relaxed, he did everything he could to keep from collapsing on the counter in front of him. It was acceptance. Not defeat because Jason had forced his hand. it was understanding. God, Jason could cry. He should've known better.

"But... Jay, what is he gets resuscitated again?"

He looked up at him from the counter top, a wry smile on his features, thinking about the poem, the one about how everyday he was fighting a dragon, and everyday he would keep fighting the dragon, even when it was dead.

Instead, he promptly got up to put his mug in the sink and replied easily, “Then I’ll shoot him twice.”

#jason todd #red hood #jason todd fanfic #red hood fanfiction #dick grayson #nightwing #my writing #fanfic #ive been working on it for a while #but nothing was quite right #tw swearing #tw familial fighting #tw mentions of death #this also ended in a very different place than i was expecting it to #but that happens ig

8 notes · View notes

charincharge · 5 years ago

Note

"For some reason I am attracted to you" prompt for nessian 😍💞Your writing is amazing

In honor of their book announcement. Some Post-ACOFAS Illyrian mountains angsty Nessian.

Nesta hated the mountains. She hated the cold winds that burnt her cheeks while she trained. She hated the way the altitude made the air thin in her lungs, making it impossibly harder to breathe. It made her feel like she was always on the verge of drowning, putting her perpetually on edge.

She hated the thick fatty meats stockpiled in her kitchen; apparently the mountains couldn’t grow vegetables. She longed for a salad. But instead, she forced herself to eat the too rich meat broth, unable to chew through animal flesh without gagging on it.

She hated that she was being shadowed by an overprotective fae male, constantly under his winged surveillance. Even when she couldn’t see him, she could always feel him. Creeping in the corners of her consciousness, tugging on that thing between them. She hated that thing most of all.

But there was one thing that wasn’t too terrible. Since arriving in Illyria with Cassian nearly four months ago, she’d made a friend. Emerie ran a small outdoor post on the outskirts of the camps, and it turned out she was just as unpopular as Nesta was – a woman attempting to infringe upon a man’s realm. Nesta thought it was brave that Emerie was able to maintain her father’s shop, despite the camps’ disdain for a female owner.

Nesta wrapped her scarf around her face tighter, attempting to block out the howling winter winds, as she made her weekly walk into town for tea with her only friend. Her worn in boots trudged across the frost laden path as the sky darkened with the threat of an incoming storm. She could feel wetness seep in through the cracks in the old leather, and she walked faster.

Heat prickled against Nesta’s thawing skin as she entered the store. She shed her jacket and scarf, hanging it on the tall coat rack by the door. A fire blazed in the corner of the room, and Nesta hurried toward it to splay her cold hands over it, letting the warmth of the flames lick her frozen fingers.

She heard a tea kettle ringing in the back room and made her way across the floor to assist Emerie with her preparations. Nesta pushed the heavy wooden door, and it creaked loudly. She was startled to see that Emerie was not boiling water alone. Cassian stood beside her at the stove, a relaxed smile across his face. His normally pulled back hair was loose around his reddened cheeks, brushing against the tops of his shoulders. His casual stance was so unfamiliar to Nesta she had to bite her tongue to stop from gasping. He was so tense around her – shoulders taut and corded muscles ready to strike out and attack. And watching him tip his head back and laugh at something Emerie had said, Nesta realized she’d never seen him relaxed.

An icy ripple curled around Nesta’s neck, cold fury choking her at the domestic scene before her. The doorknob beneath her hand grew frigid beneath her touch, turning brittle, and splintered to the ground with a loud thunk. She pulled her hand away quickly, the icy feeling disappearing as quickly as it came on.

The pair whipped toward the door in surprise, and she noted Cassian’s posture straighten uncomfortably as he caught sight of her. She gave him a tight smile, which he returned with a terse nod.

“I’ll fix that,” Nesta apologized, reaching down to grab the piece of metal from the floor. It burned her skin, and she dropped it again. This time, the knob shattered into shards and scattered across the old wooden floors.

Cassian’s hazel eyes narrowed and swept her body from head to toe. Nesta’s heart pounded, unsure of what was happening. She hated being out of control. Not knowing what her body could do.

Emerie removed the still shrieking kettle from the burner and grabbed her broom, dusting the pieces of metal into a small pile in the corner of the room, while Nesta looked on, frozen in shock.

“Nes?” She hadn’t even noticed Cassian had crossed the room to where she stood, suddenly only inches away from her. Infringing upon her space. Her routine. Her ritual. He didn’t belong here.

“What are you doing here?” Nesta hissed, her pulse thrumming wildly as she stared Cassian down.

He picked up a box from the table behind him and held it out to her. “Thought I’d pick up some new boots for you.” He looked down at her holey boots, which had seen much better days. Nesta crossed her foot behind her ankle, trying to hide it from his view.

“I don’t need your charity,” she said, crossing her arms and refusing to take the box from his hands.

Emerie, sensing an incoming argument between her friend and the Commander, smartly poured two mugs of tea and extracted herself from the small back room, heading back out to the store.

Cassian sighed and ran his hand through his hair, pushing the strands out of his face. “This isn’t charity, sweetheart,” he explained to her, his voice dripping with condescension. “Winter’s just starting, and I need my soldiers with all their toes.”

“Fine,” Nesta acquiesced, taking the box. “You can leave now.”

“Don’t you think we should talk about—” Cassian motioned to the hole in the door, and Nesta practically growled at him.

“No.” She was resolute.

“You’ve only lost control like that before when you’re angry at me,” Cassian said, his voice lowered, unsure of how much Emerie knew about Nesta’s abilities. He lifted his arm and boxed Nesta against the door, trapping her. “If something else is triggering it, I need to know.”

“I’m always angry,” Nesta seethed. His face was much too close to hers now. She could see the shades of green and gold flecked in his hazel eyes, drawing her in. She looked away, under his arm, straight at the stove where he was standing when she walked in.

“Tell me,” he pushed.

Nesta pressed her hand against his chest, trying to get some air. “You. It’s always you.”

Cassian narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Not sure how I’m to blame for making you angry this time, sweetheart. I was just standing over there, minding my own business, helping Emerie make tea…”

Nesta’s fingers tensed against his leathers, curling against the ring of his harness. And she watched in horror as Cassian’s lips curled into a devious smile. He looked over his shoulder and then back at Nesta, who was still rigid below him.

“Were you…” He paused, cocking his head to the side slightly for emphasis. “Jealous?”

Nesta rolled her eyes and pushed against his chest again, but he remained solid, immoveable. “Of course not,” she snipped. “That’s ridiculous.”

Cassian snorted, leaning closer to her. She gulped, hating the tug she felt deep in her stomach, telling her to let him in, to embrace him, to show herself to him.

“No, ridiculous is burning off a doorknob with your ice cube hands,” he snickered and lowered his other hand to her waist.

“Don’t touch me,” she gritted out between her teeth, but she made no motion to leave.

“Just admit you were jealous, and I’ll leave,” Cassian said, eyes alight with amusement.

Nesta’s stomach twisted as she looked up at him. He waited patiently for her reply.

“Fine,” Nesta began. “For some reason, I’m attracted to you.”

“For some reason…?” Cassian stood up straight, shaking his head, no longer leaning over her, and Nesta took a large gulp of air. “Cauldron, Nesta, you’re infuriating. You know the reason.”

He took another step back and leaned against the table in the middle of the room. He crossed his arms, his body suddenly withdrawn, though his eyes burned with fire.

Nesta stepped away from the door and smoothed her thick sweater.

“Did you ever stop to think that if you accepted the bond, your powers wouldn’t be trying to spew out of you every time I got on your nerves?” he asked, agitated.

Nesta had, in fact, thought of that. It’s what irked her daily about their connection. That she knew it was connected to her powers. Connected to the Cauldron. To everything she hated.

“Why won’t you accept it?” The fire was dimmed in his eyes, dialed down to a low simmer as he stared her down. But she couldn’t give him the answer he wanted.

“Thank you for the boots, Cassian,” she said, reaching around him for the box. He grabbed her arm, and she let him for a second. His thumb caressed the inside of her wrist, and she shuddered under his touch.

Emerie knocked softly at the door, wiping her hands on her apron. “Tea’s ready, Nesta,” she said, and Nesta silently thanked her friend with a small nod. “Will you be joining us, Cassian?”

Cassian pushed himself off the table and shook his head. “Thank you, but I have business to attend to.”

He pulled on his gloves, his siphons glimmering with the reflection of the flickering fire. He looked at Nesta again and his lips tightened as he took a deep breath. “Don’t stay too late. There’s a storm coming in tonight.”

He didn’t bother waiting for Nesta’s answer as he extended his wings and took off as soon as he exited the small store.

But as Nesta sipped her tea, she could feel him hovering nearby. After telling Emerie she would return again next week, she wrapped herself back in her thin coat and scarf and headed out into the wet winds. The outline of wings created a shadow on the ground, surrounding her the whole way home. Nesta never looked up once.

tags:

@df3ndyr @hizqueen4life @maastrash @justgiu12 @aknymph @bamchickawowow

(sorry if you’ve told me you want to be on my everything tag list and i missed you...please just tell me again!! i’m trying to get my lists up to date)

#nessian #nesta x cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #a court of silver flames #charincharge writes #prompts #nesta archeron

219 notes · View notes

minsimagines · 5 years ago

Text

what’s in a name | demon!j.k

next part

A/N: part two coming soon! also, images are not mine, i’ve just put together the collage. credit to owners! and also, can we talk about his hair? specifically in the header under here? help. feel free to talk to me about his hair.

warnings: none, i think??

summary: On the day she’s about to turn 18 years old, Y/N finds out she belongs to a demon.

★ ⋆ ✰ ✦ ☾ ✮ ⁎ ★ ⋆ ✰ ☾ ⁎ ✦ ✮ ⁎ ☾ ★ ⋆ ✰

You stood in the middle of the living room of your parents’ gigantic house, staring at their faces. Their expression held sadness, though your rage didn’t leave room for pity. Your eyes flickered over their bodies, wondering if they really even were your parents. You didn’t want to believe it.

“When did you do it?”

“Sweetheart, we’re sorry,” your mother tried to console you, but you took a furious step back.

“When!?”

You mothers brows pushed together in a sad, despaired frown. “We contacted him on your first birthday.”

“So, you sold me, signed my whole life off before I’d even lived any of it?” You asked, your voice a mere whisper.

“You’ll be safe, that was the deal! He’s not going to hurt you,” your father said urgently.

“The deal,” you scoffed, a humorless smile on your face. “And what happens if it doesn’t get me?”

Your father’s face dropped. “I… I don’t know.”

“I guess we’ll find out,” you muttered, watching their faces twist into expressions of fear.

“Sweetie, running won’t help, he’ll find you!” Your mother yelled, desperately. You slowly shook your head and ran out of the living room, one of many in the huge mansion. You ran past old paintings and staircases, your shoes tapping against ancient floors. You didn’t take anything but yourself and your phone with you, you didn’t stop to find out if they were following. You ran through the huge kitchen, slipping past chefs in the middle of preparing supper. Through the windows you could see the sun was setting.

Throwing the backdoor open, you bolted through the massive garden, and the bushes shaped as bunnies. It had been for you, they’d said. All they did, was for you. What a load of crap. You would never let yourself be sold like some kettle. You were a human being with a mind of your own. You were turning 18 as soon as the clock rang midnight, and your parents would never see you again after this.

Passing through intricate gardenwork, you ran into the dense forest behind your parents’ estate. You’d always played out there when you were young, and you’d always swore you’d had a guardian angel watching over you in those woods. You’d fallen out of tall trees, you’d scraped every inch of your body on branches, stumbled over stones. There had been incidents where you should have died, yet you never came out of the trees with anything more than a pale red patch wherever you’d hurt yourself. Perhaps the guardian angel was still in there.

You didn’t waste a second. You heard your parents and a few servants call after you, but you blocked them out. You ran and ran and ran until you couldn’t breathe.

Falling to your back in the middle of a meadow, you gasped for air. You didn’t care how much sound it made, or how loud you were crying. You had to get it out. Your chest hurt; your soul hurt. Weren’t parents supposed to love their children? Weren’t they supposed to protect their children?

You didn’t know how long you laid in the small, damp meadow. Your jeans were soaked and probably green on the backside. Your body was numb from crying. From realizing your life was a lie. Your life had been a means to and end for them. You couldn’t fathom how anyone could do such a thing, and to their own child!?

As you stared up at the sky, you knew he’d be coming for you. If it was really true, then he would come for you no matter where you were. Unless you were dead. No, didn’t demons rule the dead as well? The air felt thick.

“I take it you’re not happy with your current… predicament.”

You jumped up at the deep voice. A hand flew to your chest, your wide eyes staring at the man leaning against the trunk of a tall tree. He was… well he was breathtaking. Hair, black as night, framed his face. His eyes were dark, intense and amused as he watched you, blinking lazily. His hands were in the pockets of his dress pants. He wore a black suit, which one would usually find weird deep in a forest, yet he seemed to just… fit.

You didn’t say anything. What were you to say? That you didn’t like it? You thought that part was pretty obvious. Your eyes flickered over his appearance. Had you not known his true nature; you might have freely spoken to him, told him you weren’t going with him and how you were going to be free. You might have been interested in what he had to say. But you knew, and you didn’t want to know any more.

“Come here,” he said, his voice didn’t leave room for discussion, but you were frozen. Both in shock and fear. He watched you, seemingly patient, his eyes not leaving yours for even a split second. Did he even blink? You didn’t think he did.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he muttered, his voice turning darker along with the look in his eyes. You felt your vision blur as you shakily took steps towards the man. The edge of his full lips twitched up in a smirk at your compliance.

He stood up straight, towering over you as you stopped in front of him, a hot tear rolling down your cheek. You hated him. Or, maybe you hated your parents. You didn’t know, you just knew you didn’t want to be a slave.

“Please,” you whispered, whishing for nothing else than to be left alone. You wanted to be away from him, from your parents, from their stupid massive estate. You didn’t care about any of it, you wanted to be free.

He decided to take your plea as a wish for him to take you right away.

“As you wish,” he whispered, his eyes turning as dark as night as he reached out for your waist, pulling you against him. You yelped and pushed your hands against a chiseled chest. The world around you turned loopy and dark smoke enveloped you both. You instinctively gripped his jacket, your wide eyes staring around yourself in terror. He watched in amusement, finding himself already loving the look of fear in your eyes. Your big orbs glowed with horror, and he could stare at the wonderful sight for hours.

The world shook and trembled around you as you were both swallowed by the darkness. A grunt left your lips out of fear, your eyes squeezing shut. What was he doing? Was he going to hurt you?

–

You startled upright, your arms grabbing at your body, your lungs gasping for air. You looked around yourself, but it was so dark, you could barely make out anything. You could, however, tell it wasn’t your room. It looked modern, stylish, dark. Black furniture against dark walls. Everything was so dark. The bed sheets, black silk, slick around your bare legs.

You threw the covers off, your jaw dropping. You were wearing a big t-shirt, down to the top of your thighs. Your eyes carefully wandered around the room once more, your mind completely blank. You couldn’t remember how you got to this room, or where your clothes had gone. Or… if it was you who removed them.

Quietly slipping out of bed, you slowly stepped towards the window. The curtains were closed, and you hoped the view could give you a clue to where you were. Gently taking a hold of the fabric, you pulled them apart.

The view… though broad, was unhelpful. You looked down, and your breath caught in your throat at the height. You were so far above ground. You could see so far, yet you had no idea what city it was. The lights from the streets and the buildings were beautiful, but the sinking feeling in your stomach was not.

Hands wrapped around your waist from behind, and you squealed in surprise, your body jerking forwards. The hands held you back from bumping your head into the glass. You spun around and found a pair of dark eyes staring down at you, looking very amused. You, were not. You glared up at him, your cheeks warming. Had he been in there the whole time? How did he sneak up on you like that?

“Are you insane?” You asked, your voice low, feeling agitated. You’d never asked to be put in this situation, and you definitely couldn’t remember asking him to change your clothes for you.

“Whatever do you mean?” He asked sarcastically, his lips curling up in a way too sweet smile, hands pulling you closer. You pulled a face and pushed against his chest, but his grip was locked behind your back. You shot him a look, which he mirrored, mocking you.

“Where are my clothes?”

“Trash.”

“Excuse me!?” You yelled, your brows furring. Who the hell did he think he was?

“You went all crazy and ripped them,” he shrugged, as if that was something that could just happen to anyone. As if it happened to him a lot. You narrowed your eyes, not believing him.

“You think I’m going to believe some story about me just suddenly going ham and tearing off my clothes? I’m no Hulk.”

“I didn’t say I was totally out of blame,” he smirked, taking a step back from you. You frowned.

“What did you do?”

“I just took you here,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “You inhaled something you shouldn’t have, and you went nuts,” he smirked, turning and walking towards the door. You ran after him as he walked down the dark hallways.

“Inhaled what?” You asked, your voice raised with anger. Why couldn’t he just explain it in a proper way? Why be so god damned mysterious?

He abruptly stopped and spun around, giving you no time to slow down. You bumped right into his chest, though his body didn’t move an inch. It was like hitting a brick wall. A… soft, brick wall. He looked down at you and you had no chance of reading his eyes, they were just looking at you.

“This,” he said, his voice deep as he held his hand out. His fingers slowly began turning black, as a soft mist formed in his palm. He held his hand a good distance away from you, yet you could smell it as if it was right in your face. It smelled caramel, and the forest after it rains. And leather. Your eyebrow twitched as you turned you head towards his hand. Your eyes peered into the mist, and the deeper you looked, the more delicious the smell got. The mist flickered like a flame, and you wondered if the mist was a result of his skin burning.

His other hand grabbed a wrist you hadn’t realized you’d stretched out towards the mist, and he pulled you towards the other side of his body as he closed his palm and forced the mist away, his hand turning back to normal.

His eyes shifted as he looked at you, his expression one of confusion. You could only stand there and gape at him. You couldn’t wrap your mind around what had happened. It was as if you had been in a trance, and as he put the mist away, you felt almost sad. Maybe you really had gone crazy, like he said you had.

He turned his body to face you, his hands on your upper arms as he leaned down towards your face. You looked up at him with wide eyes, your heartbeat picking up. Was he going to eat you?

“What did it smell like?” He asked, almost carefully, which didn’t fit his image at all. You frowned at the question. Why did it matter what it smelled like?

“Uhm… like a few things,” you said, uncertain. “A few things that have absolutely nothing to do with each other.”

“What things?” He asked, more urgent.

“Caramel,” you whispered. “And the forest. And leather.”

He leaned back, and you watched as his eyes flickered all over your form. You swallowed, instinctively taking a step away from him. His eyes narrowed, and the intense look in his eyes returned. He was quiet for a while, and you didn’t dare move. You felt like a prey under his dangerous gaze. His dark t-shirt was tight around his firm muscles, and you swallowed, thinking about all the awful things he could do to you.

“Y/N,” he whispers your name carefully, as if it was a prayer, and it knocked the wind out of you. Your mind began spinning, and all you could hear was his deep voice calling your name. You desperately looked up at him through your dazed vision. It felt like you were flying on clouds and being held down to the ground by bolts, bth at the same time.

You tried speaking, but your lips just parted, no sound leaving them.

“I know,” he whispered, as he took a few steps closer to you. You were frozen in your place, your skin tingling. His hands reached out, slowly, as if to not scare you, and rested on your upper arms. Your whole body practically vibrated at his touch, a shudder running down your spine and some of the tingling under your skin disappeared. You frowned, staring up at him, hoping he could give you an explanation. You mind was blank.

He hummed, slowly letting his hands run down your arms. You stood there in wonder, amazed at how his touch seemed to make the heavy feeling lift. Though, if it was him who initially made you feel weird, then maybe it wasn’t so strange.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, pulling you into his chest in an embrace and your hands automatically rested on his waist. You wondered what he was sorry about, but the softness you felt inside was occupying your mind. It was strange – you’d met this man, this demon; he’d spoken a few words to you and taken you to what you presumed was his home. He… he owned you. He looked every bit a demon, all but the sharp teeth and claws. His deep voice, his heavy presence, his intense stare, his magic. Yet you didn’t really mind being in that apartment with him.

–

The next few days were strange, to put it mildly. He would often scare the bejesus out of you by appearing right in front of you or engulfing the whole living room in shadow as he entered, his eyes glowing bright red. The sight scared you so bad you had to run straight to the bathroom to not pee yourself. He used every predatorial bone in his body, sneaking up on your from behind and pinching your waist. You’d scream. Each and every time.

He took you out to fancy restaurants for dinner. You’d wake up and find expensive gift bags waiting for you in the kitchen, though he claimed it was all to make you look the part. He constantly asked what you wanted of certain things, and what you liked, though never straight out. It was always like a guessing game. He was mysterious, and nothing could ever be simple. You felt like he was somewhat doing the most to make you feel like living with him wasn’t a prison sentence. You didn’t feel like that, however, you had quite a lot of questions on your mind. There were quite a few you didn’t dare ask, for example: why did your chest feel so heavy and your skin so cold, until he touched you? What had he done to you? Had he done it on purpose? He had apologized for something; you just didn’t know what.

He’d sneakily began sleeping in your bed, slipping in behind you when you were deeply asleep, draping a heavy arm over your waist. You’d groggily mumble incoherent protests, feeling his presence, but too tired to try to move him away. He was warm, and he fit very nicely against your back. You let him stay.

“Are you going to tell me your name?” You pried, following him around the big apartment as he typed away on his phone. He didn’t answer you, so you asked again. This had become a sort of daily ritual. You’d asked him the first day, but all he’d said was: “Did your parents tell you nothing of my kind?” It had you so curious you could burst.

“Can you tell me something?” You asked, growing bored of not knowing anything about him. He leant against the kitchen counter, his eyes glancing up at you. The stare was a warning to leave it be. You didn’t care, you wanted to know. It wasn’t fair.

You narrowed your eyes and moved to sit on the counter opposite of him, on the other side of the kitchen, as he went back to texting. Maybe you could use something as leverage? He seemed to like sleeping in your bed. A smile crept over your lips, but you tried your best to conceal it.

“If you don’t tell me something, I won’t let you sleep in my bed anymore,” you said, trying to keep your voice even. His eyes locked on yours, his stare was dark. Intense. Had you broken through? In the blink of an eye, he was in front of you, his chest pressed against yours. A surprised yelp left your lips.

His eyes slowly roamed over your face, his lips tipping up in the slightest smirk. You felt your stomach flip at the sight of it. Your breath hitched in your throat as he leaned in even further, his nose nudging against yours. Your mind was going haywire, wondering what his next move was. You waited for him to scare you in some way, fully aware of how much he liked seeing you scared. You thought, though hoped against, that he might use his magic on you.

What you had not expected, was for his lips to brush against yours. The touch sent shivers down your spine, and you had an urge to lean in a press your lips to his, fully. You didn’t.

It seemed like he had trouble restraining himself, but he did. He backed off and disappeared right in front of your eyes. You sighed, your hand reaching up to cover your hard beating heart. You couldn’t deny his beauty, and you couldn’t say you didn’t like his sense of humor, and his way of speaking to you – even if he was mysterious. Did you have feelings for him? You had feelings for his looks, that you could agree with yourself on, but for him? You didn’t know him.

You knew he worked a lot. Exactly what he did, you didn’t know, but he worked a lot. And when he wasn’t working, he was around you, but always had his phone within reach. He’d often be busy working, even when home. He was fancy when it came to, well, everything. He would stare at you until you cleaned up your cereal bowl, even if you weren’t even finished yet. He was very touchy, very ‘hands on’. It was unsettling at first, not being used to it, but when you live with someone, no matter the conditions, you sort of get used to their ways.

When he was annoyed, which was quite often, though rarely towards you, his eyes glowed red and he unbuttoned a few buttons on his shirt. The day prior, he had actually ripped it apart on “accident”, and you had been caught staring at his chest. He teased you the whole day, though you could never be sure if he was really teasing or serious – his eyes were always intense, and his body language didn’t change between the two.

He was ripped. Like, really ripped. You’d seen him shirtless several times over the last few days; you’d even seen him naked. He seemed to prefer walking around naked, and though it made you feel profusely uncomfortable, you couldn’t deny it was a pleasure to look at the muscles in his back move as his arms lifted, and the biceps curled and tightened as he held the phone to his ear. The main question on your mind was: why?

Why had he been interested in ‘buying’ you?

Why was he being so nice and taking care of you?

Why did he not want to reveal who he was to you? Other than his nature.

You weren’t ungrateful for his caregiving, though you had to wonder why he was caring towards you. You had seen how easily irritated he got; how driven he was by his primal instincts. How easy it was to push his buttons, though you tried your hardest to avoid doing that.

A part of you hoped he was interested beyond the deal he had with your parents. That a man like him, a demon; dark and cruel, more beautiful than any angel you could imagine, was interested in you. Plain old Y/N. You didn’t have a low self esteem per say, though you knew you weren’t the best at most things. Looks wise as well, though you didn’t think you were ugly. You just… reality was that compared to a lot of people on this man’s level, you weren’t even considered pretty.

You laid awake in your bed that evening, still thinking about the kiss. It was a kiss; you had decided it was. It was your first kiss with him. After your rapidly beating heart had calmed, your senses were overflowed by that same sensation as whenever he left you alone. The air was so cold on your skin, there was an uneasy feeling in your stomach, and you just didn’t feel right.

The mattress dipped, with no warning, and your body jolted slightly in surprise, though you didn’t move. His hand slid over your waist, and under your hip, taking a hold of you and spinning you around. A gasp left your throat at the sudden movement, and your hands gripped onto his chest for support. You stared up at him in shock.

He was laying on his side, head propped up on his hand, looking at you with those dark eyes and you were about to say something clever when you noticed his eyes weren’t the same. They were telling you something different.

His hand slid across your torso, slowly and gently, easing off the pressure in your chest; the horrible cold feeling. How did he have this sort of effect on you? You couldn’t get a grasp of it.

“What’s happening to me?” You whispered, your voice laced with fear, though your tried to hold it even. He didn’t answer. He leant down and nudged his nose against yours. You felt his breath fan over you face, and you bit your lip. You wanted to be closer. You had such an urge to hold onto him and push your body against his, it almost hurt to hold yourself back. You had to close your eyes, your body tingling with longing.

“Look at me,” he whispered, and you couldn’t even control your own movements as your eyes snapped open, looking up at him as if he might be the answer you were looking for.

“Do you trust me?” he mumbled; his voice low. The question caught you of guard. You hadn’t thought about that. Did you trust him? He had kept you safe, for now, at least. He hadn’t acted like the monster he probably could be around you - or, not that much at least. When you pondered over his question, you came to realize that yes, you did trust him.

“Yes, I think I do,” you whispered, feeling incredibly stupid but also hopeful.

His eyes shimmered red at your words, though not the angry, fearsome red. They held primal instinct, sure, but not for killing. His fingers tightened their hold on your waist.

“My name… is Jungkook.”

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #demon!jungkook #bts imagine #jungkook imagines #bts #bts x reader #demon!au #bts imagines #bts reader insert #jungkook x y/n #wian

591 notes · View notes

marveloussupernerd · 5 years ago

Text

my tears richochet - 707

Angsty for the first two thirds but then just rlly cute and fluffy at the end. Im kinda changing the timeline of seven’s route but whatever I’m so excited to write this! ALSO: no spoilers for seven’s real name. Woohoo!

Summary: Seven finds out you left the apartment when you’re supposed to be under lockdown. You finally give in and tell him how upset you are with the way he’s treating you. You refuse to let him push you away. He tries to make it up to you.

It hurt to sit in the same room with him. Every time you tried to talk to him he ignored you, even though you were sure he heard you half the time. Where was the funny, upbeat, albeit flirty Seven you had liked so much over the messenger?

You needed to clear your mind. You got up from your spot and walked over to where he was sitting on the floor, typing away at his laptop, headphones on. “Seven,” you called, hoping to get his attention. He didn’t seem to notice. You stepped a little closer to his laptop so he could see your feet. “Seven. I’m going to go out. I’ll be right back.”

You had hoped he heard you, but you weren’t really sure. You wouldn’t be out for long; you just wanted to try and get him some Honey Buddha Chips. You knew it helped him focus and honestly you worried he wasn’t eating enough. You pulled your jacket off the chair in the kitchen and left the apartment.

The sky was overcast, reflecting your mood. You wanted to stay positive, but he wouldn’t even talk to you. You took a shaky breath, walking into the store in search for the golden chip. Of course, they were sold out. How did he get this stuff? You walked through the store two more times to make sure, but of course, your suspicions were confirmed. They were all out.

Sighing, you walked back to the apartment, your phone ringing as you made your way through the doors. It was Seven. “Ah, maybe he’ll say a few words to me now,” you joked, surprised to see him call given the silent treatment he had been giving you.

You picked up. “Seven?”

“Where are you? Where did you go on your own?” He sounded kind of frantic. It sounded like he was pacing. “You were so quiet I thought you were asleep... I had to check the security feed on the hallway to see that you left.”

You were silent. You thought he had heard you.

“That was 7 minutes ago. I didn’t realize that you’d left for 7 minutes... what if something happened in that time?” He was raising his voice now. You didn’t like it.

“You didn’t answer me... and you seemed really focused...” you responded quietly, feeling bad for having worried him.

He didn’t seem to notice your tone, as he continued to yell: “If you felt that frustrated staying inside, you should have just taken off my headphones and made me listen to you!” As if that would have worked. Every time you tried to talk to him he shut you down immediately.

After a brief pause, his voice softened. “Are you mad that I was ignoring you?” He sighed. “You do realize how dangerous the situation is right now, right? How could you leave on your own even when you know a hacker is after this place? Some strange person could have been waiting outside to kidnap you.” He was back to pacing, as you could tell from the way he huffed as he talked, his tone growing agitated again. “Where are you?”

You pressed the button to the elevator a few times, as though that would hurry it up. “I’m waiting for the elevator downstairs. It’s taking some time to come down,” you explained, keeping your voice level.

“I should have put a GPS tracking device on your clothes,” he seemed to be talking quietly to himself more than to you. “Oh... I brought a couple here. Give me your jacket when you get back so that I can attach it.”

This felt like a major violation of your privacy, but with everything going on it actually would make you feel safer. You nodded even though he couldn’t see the movement. “Why in the world did you leave?” He asked.

“I was going to get Honey Buddha chips for you... but I couldn’t find them at the store.” The elevator dinged, finally making it to the ground floor. You got in and pressed the 14.

“You don’t have to care about me,” he said, but his tone was quite fond, as though he was happy you thought of him. “I told you to leave me alone just to work... why didn’t you listen to me?”

Then he started going on and on about how he made sandwiches for himself but you could eat one if you wanted. You really were hardly paying attention, more focused on all the mixed signals he was giving out. You focused on the number on the elevator rising steadily, until finally it hit 14 with a ding.

“Oh... I just heard the elevator. You’re on it, right?” He sounded excited. You murmured back an “mhm” to confirm his suspicions. “I’ll be waiting in front of the door. I can’t focus until I see you... hurry.”

He hung up. You felt kind of silly hurrying to the door, especially after he made you so upset earlier, but here you were, speed walking to the apartment door. You didn’t even have to unlock it, as he opened it immediately upon hearing your footsteps getting closer.

The second you were through the doorway he was pulling you into a hug, kicking the door shut with his foot. You were stiff. It was weird. You just... didn’t know how to feel at this point.

He pulled back, putting his hands on your shoulders. “You can’t do that to me again. You almost gave me a heart attack! If something happened to you...” he looked away, “you know how everyone would have felt? How I would have felt!”

You sighed heavily. “Honestly... no. I don’t,” you whispered, eyes trained on the ground.

“I would have been...” he seemed to be searching for words, “so mad at you!” His voice raising slightly.

“You’re already always so mad at me,” you retorted. It was supposed to be a joke but you told it humorlessly, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. “I just-“ you wanted to explain yourself, “you seem awfully mad at me for ignoring you and leaving you when you did the same to me.”

“From the safety of your home!” He defended, crossing his arms across his chest.

“I’m living with a bomb, Seven! A hacker is threatening to break in at any moment and kill me or kidnap me or who knows what! There is no ‘safety of my home’.” Your voice raised. He flinched at that one.

“I’m sorry.” He was extremely quiet. Were his eyes watering? He pushed up his glasses so you could no longer tell. “I’m really trying my best.”

“I know,” your voice dropped to a whisper. You turned away from him, getting set up to make some tea; anything so you didn’t have to look at him right now. You were crying, tears ricocheting down your face. If he liked you so much, why was he hurting you? And you could see it was hurting him too. Why was he sabotaging both of you? You couldn’t figure out who the real Seven was anymore.

You hadn’t heard him walk away. You could only fill up the kettle with water for so long, but you really didn’t want to face him. You didn’t realize you dropped the overflowing pot until the sound resonated across the kitchen, Seven coming over to you and putting a hand on your shoulder. You turned to look at him and saw the concern flash across his features. You buried your face into his chest, letting the sound of your sobs be drowned out by his jacket.

It was his turn to stiffen this time, but it didn’t last for long. You heard him turn off the sink, then he had his arms around you, one stroking the back of your hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just...” he sniffled. “I don’t want you to get hurt. Look at how dangerous it is for you right now. With me? It would be so much worse. I can’t let that happen. Do you know how scared I was when you left to get chips?”

You laughed, only half your heart in it. “I know, but...” your breath hitched in your throat as you thought of the words you wanted to get out, “you’ve just been so mean.” And you were sobbing again.

“I know... I know. And it’s been killing me. I don’t want to see you sad, but I need you to take this seriously. We can’t do this.”

“Yes we can,” you bawled. “Who says we can’t?”

“I can’t... my job. One slip-up and they won’t go after me, they’ll go after you. I can’t do that. I’m too big of a target.”

“I don’t care.”

“Well you should care.”

You moved your head to glance up at him. “We can keep it a secret. I won’t tell anyone if that’s what it takes. I just want to be with you... I need to be with you Seven.”

He carefully wiped a tear off your cheek, a sad smile on his face. “We’ve known each other for what? Only eight days? You need to be with me that much?”

“Yes,” you answered, shrugging. You were planning to go into a whole speech about how he’s made you feel like nobody else. How much you liked his humor and wit and starry attitude. How you liked him even when he was quiet and distant, although you’d like him a lot more in those moments if he was considerate of you too. You were drawn to him. You couldn’t help it. How were you supposed to put that into words?

“I need to be with you that much too,” he whispered, using his hand on the back of your head to pull you in for a kiss. It was much more searing than you expected your first kiss to be, but given the circumstances it fit quite well. He kissed you until your head was dizzy, then pulled away, placing a peck on your lips as though he couldn’t stay away.

“Seven, I-“

“Okay. You want to figure it out? Let’s figure it out. No more hostility, no more ignoring you. And I don’t want to keep it a secret. I want everyone to know that I’m with you and you’re with me,” he smiled, his fingers absentmindedly playing with a strand of your hair.

“More than fine by me,” you grinned, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“You’ll be in danger. But I’ll do everything to keep you safe. I promise.”

“I’ll even let you put that GPS in my jacket,” you teased, moving your hand up to cup his cheek. “If that’s what it takes. I’m not worried though. I’ve got the Defender of Justice on my side.”

He blushed so hard his ears turned red and hot. You couldn’t suppress your laughter. “Oh I’m gonna get you for that. You’re not allowed to make fun of the Defender of Justice and get away with it.”

“No!” You squealed, ducking under his arm and running toward your room. He caught up to you too quickly, picking you up and placing you on the couch, tickling your sides. You couldn’t hold back your laughter, tears falling down your cheeks but for a very different reason this time around.

“Feeling better?” he asked, hanging over you. You nodded, a bright smile on your face. “Good.” He helped sit you up. “Sit with me while I do some more work?” He asked, eyes twinkling at the proposal.

You nodded excitedly, positioning yourself so that he could place his arms around you and still comfortably use his keyboard. Finally, you were able to fall asleep happily.

#mystic messenger #mysme #707 #folklore

18 notes · View notes

swtltlmrvlgrl · 5 years ago

Text

Is it Real? (Part 5)

Summary: Bestfriend AU. This chapter will deal on what Tom did to Y/N and why Y/N is affected on Tom’s return. This will also deal with the dynamics of Steve and Y/N’s friendship.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Warning/s: This chapter is going to be angsty. There will be implicit descriptions of panic attacks.

A/N: Y/N = Your Name. Enjoy reading! I don’t proofread so I apologize in advanced for any misspelling other awkward grammar here. If you know beta readers out there, I think I might need one now. Heh. I don’t know the whole beta reading process so please teach me too.

Number of Words: 1,959

Part 1 - Part 2- Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

5 YEARS AGO

Steve was on the process of fixing the drain of your kitchen faucet when he lifted his head to look at you in response to your statement. “You’re going to work at a university?” He then slowly pushed himself up from the ground to check if you weren’t joking.

“Yep.” you responded nonchalantly while typing on your laptop.

“I thought you wanted to work at the daycare?” Steve moved closer towards you.

“Yeah, but Tom told me that being a daycare teacher is too mediocre. There are more opportunities for career development if I work in University.” You looked at Steve and stretched. “Plus, we can work at the same school too.”

Steve reached for your laptop and closed it.

“What the - ?!” You stopped and looked at Steve, whose eyes were glaring at you.

“You should stop this.”

“Stop what? I’m just finishing my application form, I have to pass this tomorrow.”

“Why are you letting him dictate your life?” Steve’s voice wasn’t loud, but it sounded frustrated with a little touch of disappointment.

“Steve. I love Tom.” you answered plainly.

You stood up and went to the sofa. You assumed hat you answer was enough for the discussion to end. You grabbed the remote control and attempted to turn on the TV, but Steve got in the way and stood right in front of you.

Agitated, you put down the remote control. “Can’t you just support me?” your voice came out louder than you wanted it to be. But Steve got on your nerves and you’re kind of hoping that your louder voice would stop Steve from nagging you (It only made the situation worse).

“Support you?” His voice was a little strained, yes, but he was CLEARLY angry. “First, he stopped you from eating pizza, and ‘encouraged’ you to eat salad instead.” Steve started walking around. “Then, he stops you from wearing jeans, because, I quote, ‘dresses and skirts looks better on you’. Every single thing you’ve been doing, he’s ‘trying to improve’.” Steve stopped and looked at you. “He’s trying to control your life!”

“Better opportunity? Career development? Mediocre?! What happened to wanting to make children happy Y/N? What happened to making the children smile even for a short while? What happened to protecting the children/s dreams? Are you throwing them them all way for someone you just met 8 months ago? This isn’t you Y/N!”

“Then who am I Steve? If this isn’t me, then who am I?!” The heat in your body started to rise and you feel your stomach churning. The words that you heard from Steve were aggravating. For you, Steve clearly crossed the line.

“That’s the point Y/N!” Steve responded, equally agitated. “You don’t just go around and let other people define who you are!”

“You know what?” You walked towards Steve. “Maybe it’s time that you,” you pointed your finger on Steve’s chest, “Stop pretending like you know me, and start accepting that I am not the person that you think I am!”

It felt like time has stopped. Steve fell silent, but you can faintly hear his deep breaths as you gaze upon his clenched fists. It might’ve been a minute but it felt like a full hour to you.

“Fifteen years.” Steve sighed. “We’ve been friends for 15 years. You have flaws and annoying habits and I know them more than anyone else. You’re not perfect and I don’t think that you should be. If you could just...see yourself the same way that I see you.”

Steve’s voice was softer, sadder. “You have this light that I – and I … I can’t just let some guy dim that light.” If you listened closely you could hear his voice shaking.

The distance between you and Steve became bigger. Every step that Steve took, felt like knives stabbing in your chest. But I love Tom, you thought. If I can’t fight for Tom now, then I can’t fight for him at all. But you stood your ground. Despite the excruciating pain that the distance gave you, you didn’t even attempt to look at Steve as he slowly opened the door.

“ ‘Who am I?’ you asked me. I can’t answer that.” He continued. “But I know that you’re not happy and I’m not going to just shut up and accept that.”

He left.

The absence of Steve made the room seem bigger. You tightly grip your chest as a poor attempt to put together the broken pieces of your heart. Tears start to flow through your cheeks.

You wipe your tears and tried to relax. Breathe in. Breathe out.

“This is probably the best for us.” you muttered. You try to convince yourself that this is just something that the two of you had to go through.

You shifted your focus to your dinner date with Tom and decided to prepare for the night. You laid the red dress on your bed and you lined up the necessary skin care and make-up and then took a long shower.

---

You were waiting for the Uber when you saw Steve cross the street from your grocery. He momentarily met your eyes but he immediately looked away. You reciprocated the gesture and looked away too. Steve walked past you and it didn’t feel right. Ignoring Steve didn’t feel right. You impulsively turned towards his direction and reached out for his hand but you were stopped by the sound of a car horn. Your Uber driver had arrived.

The traffic wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be, you arrived at the restaurant five minutes before 6:00PM. You sat down and messaged Tom to let him know that you’re already in the venue. His lack of immediate response was a little off character for him – he usually answers promptly. Maybe he’s busy, you thought.

At this point, you’re trying just trying to convince yourself that Tom is busy and something urgent must’ve come up. He hasn’t been responded to you for more than thirty minutes and it’s making you anxious. You tried calling Dot and Nat too, they didn’t know where Tom was. He didn’t answer to their calls too.

You were in the middle of dialing Tom’s number when a waiter (or maybe the manager) approached you.

“Excuse me. Ma’am Y/N L/N?” He inquired.

“Yes?” You answered.

“Someone dropped by earlier and told us that if we see someone in red dress with the name of Y/N L/N.” He handed over a neatly folded piece of paper. “We should give this letter 30 minutes after 6:00PM.”

“He also paid for the food in advance so If you want, we can serve it to you now.”

Dumbfounded. That’s how you would explain your feelings as you take the letter from the waiter’s hands. “I’ll call you when I need anything.” You told the waiter.

“Okay. Ma’am. Just call me when you’re ready.”

Everything didn’t make any sense. You held on the paper as tightly as you can with the hopes that it will explain everything that’s happening. With your shaking hands, you slowly unfolded the piece of paper.

I can’t do this anymore.

-Tom

What?

To say that you were surprised was an understatement. It felt like the world stopped spinning. Breathing became more difficult. You tried to comprehend what just happened, but you were overwhelmed with too much emotions that you’re mind just turned blank. With all the strength that you have left, you stood up and leave the restaurant.

Despite walking in a busy street, you couldn’t hear anything. You couldn’t feel anything. You didn’t even realize that it started raining. You’ walked aimlessly - through the crowd, the rain, through the pain – desperately trying to escape.

Did I do something wrong? Did I say something wrong?

You try to breathe properly, but you can’t. You tried to look around for Tom. Maybe this is just a misunderstanding? Maybe –

Then, you started to run. You fall down a couple of times but you still ran. You’re angry. You’re frustrated. You didn’t know what to do.

Am I not good enough?

You stopped in front of your apartment building, where Steve saw you soaked and barefooted.

Steve dropped everything that he was carrying and ran towards you. He was holding his umbrella on top of your head with one hand, and desperately trying to take off his jacket with the other. He guided you inside the apartment and covered you with his jacket.

The whistling of the kettle enabled you to come to your senses. Steve placed a cup of tea in front of you. Beside the cup of tea, you noticed a change of clothes which you took and brought with you to the bathroom. Steve’s clothes were big, but it was comfortable. It wasn’t as restricting as the dress that you wore earlier, it made you feel more relaxed, more…

Free.

With your hands on your chest, you tried to breathe and pull yourself together. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

One emotion at a time. You tell yourself. Y/N, process one emotion at a time.

The first thing that you learned to do when faced with an overwhelming amount of emotions, is to acknowledge the things that you can’t and can control.

The reason why you’re confused is because you didn’t know what Tom meant. But you can’t control Tom’s emotions. No matter how hard you try to understand him, all of it will just be assumptions. These assumptions will only lead to an endless spiral of overthinking You’ve been through that spiral before and you didn’t want to go back.

You take a deep breathe again as you focus your thoughts on what you can control right now – acknowledging your pain. You’re in pain and that’s acceptable. You love Tom, and being left just like that should painful.

I am in pain, and that’s okay.

Inhale.

Exhale.

It’s okay.

Your breathing became less erratic. With your heart beating steadily, you stand up. You open the door of the bathroom and as you step outside the door. You see the image of Steve laying his bed cushion on the carpeted floor beside the sofa, He placed one pillow and a blanket on the sofa.

A tear fell down from your eye and you ran towards Steve as fast as you can. You embraced him as tightly as you can.

Tom needed five words to break you.

Steve doesn’t need words to comfort you.

It took a while before you broke the silence. “I forgot my umbrella.” was the first thing you told Steve.

Steve chuckled and caressed your wet hair. “You forgot your shoes too?”

With your head resting on his chest, you nodded.

“You should’ve called me, you know.” Steve remarked.

“But you were angry at me!” You retorted.

“I’m angry Y/N, not heartless.”

Steve stopped caressing your head, and patted it two times. “Drink your tea before it gets cold.”He broke free from your embrace. “It’s your favorite. Chamomile.”

You made your way to the kitchen and Steve sat down on the sofa skimming through the channels on the television. The aroma of the tea as it entered your mouth made you feel more calm. You take another deep breath.

I’m in pain. You repeated. And that’s okay.

I’m not alone.

You never really talked about the incident in detail with Steve. You didn’t have too. Occasionally, he and Bucky would ask what happened to Tom, who suddenly stopped coming to your apartment. You would smile at them and answer, “He got away.”

Five years had passed and everything that happened, are just memories of the past. That’s what you thought, until one day, you received a call from Nat.

“Tom’s coming back.”

Part 6

A/N: I’m so happy I updated this probably a week after uploading the previous part! WIth that, I’m so proud. *pats myself on the back* The next chapter will probably take longer since I had to do other stuff, but I’ll try to upload it as soon as I can!

FEEDBACKS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED! If you have anything to say about the story, any reactions whatsoever, feel free to comment here or message me! Thank you :D

#steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader fluff #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers x you #steve rogers self #steve rogers series #marvel imagine #steve rogers au #steve rogers bestfriend au #mcu imagine #marvel fanfic #is it real?#swtltlmrvlgrl

49 notes · View notes

thosequeenboys · 6 years ago

Text

Weep Not for the Memories (John Deacon x Freddie Mercury)

Summary: John is devastated after Freddie’s death. A nighttime visit from his departed friend helps him contemplate moving forward, as he grapples with the loss.

A/N: Yup, this is sad. BUT I try to be a glass-is-half-full sort of gal, so the story shows how Freddie helps John cope with the loss by keeping their memories close and embracing all the good in his life as he considers his future. Here’s to lovely memories of Freddie, to those Queen boys who loved him – and still do and this community that celebrates him!

Special thanks to @painkiller80 for providing great edits and to @melisa-may-taylor72 for those Japan videos, which showed me the perfect outfit for Freddie :)

Warnings: Mention of death, sorrow, some tooth-rotting song lyrics (bolded & referenced at the end)

The November Sunday morning dawned grey and damp as most did that time of year. A wind whipped up the fallen leaves and blew them into almost perfect whirling oblong circles. He arose and prepared for the day. She stayed sleeping on her side, cuddled under the blankets. Once downstairs, he started the kettle for tea and ventured to the doorstep to pick up the newspaper that leaned carelessly against the front door. There it was: Freddie’s announcement of his illness.

John was surprised but not shocked. The reality they had been living with for years was finally revealed in black and white. And with it, there was no more denying, no hope that he would be cured and no thinking that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t as bad as it really was. Of course, they knew the truth from his deterioration and his rueful jokes, but so long as it wasn’t officially announced in print, they could still hope -- or deny the harsh reality. He folded up the paper and shoved it into the entry foyer shelf between boots and hats and scarves.

He carried on with the morning routine, preparing breakfast before church. The kids started to amble down the steps and he corralled them around the kitchen table to eat, keeping he banter light, responding to them as needed, mustering great concentration to be in the moment. Veronica joined them, holding the youngest’s hand cajoling them to finish up and dress for church, which they did. Attired and groomed neatly, they gathered by the door without fussing or fighting, bantering or bossing, asks or antics, as though they anticipated the ominous afternoon that lay before them. After church, the kids scattered to the family room turning to regular Sunday pre-lunch activities: games, books and crafts. John joined them eager to distract himself, as Veronica prepared lunch.

The drizzle started hitting the large window, laying wet tracks on the glass. John turned on all the lights. He welcomed the bright bursts that contrasted the grey landscape and sat down. Suddenly he heard the unmistakable sound of tires on gravel. He peered out the window and saw one, then two cars enter the wide driveway. The cars parted, peeling to opposite sides of the circular drive, and parked, forming the base of a heart. The boys exited their cars, pulling their coats tightly. They met and the tall one’s arm gently touched the other’s lower back, as they walked toward the house, their feet crunching.

“John…” Veronica called, her voice shaking. They all knew it would happen-some version of this-and now that it was here, it began to unfold in slow motion.

“I know.” John said, rising and walking out of the family room toward the entry foyer where she now stood. She extended her hand, brushing it down his arm as he grabbed a coat from a hook and put it on while opening the heavy wooden door.

And, at that moment, John knew that once he walked out that door, his life would never be the same. What lay ahead for them, he couldn’t say. How he’d deal with the avalanche of emotions, he didn’t know. How many memories would fade over time, he couldn’t imagine. Crossing the threshold to that uncertainty, into the dampness, he felt fullness rush to his chest. Emotions ricocheted within himself, the feelings kept at bay for so long. He met the boys in the middle of the driveway. Brian extended his long arm and pulled John in, his other arm now tight around Roger. Before Brian spoke, John’s tears started to flow.

“He’s gone, Deacy.” Brian’s wet eyes bore into John’s as he brought John and Roger close to him. They huddled together in the rain, their own tears raining down collectively.

“Do you, would you like to come in.” John asked quietly after a few moments, as they were standing in the rain, and his politeness overcame him.

Roger broke away. “ I can’t.” his voice cracked. “I keep hearing Phoebe telling me on the phone. It’s too much. I gotta go.” He slid his hand down Brian’s arm, letting it linger just a few seconds against Brian’s hand as they stared at each other. He broke away and turned to hug John. “See you at the funeral,’ he said as walked toward his car.

Brian rubbed John’s back. “Do you want to talk a bit?”

“I…I don’t know,” John said between tears. “I gotta keep it together. For the kids. for Ronnie.”

“We’ll have time. Here I wrote down the funeral information,” Brian took a neatly folded sheet of paper from his inner jacket pocket. “We’ll meet there and then go to lunch. Just the three of us.”

“Yeah. It’s just the three of us, I suppose. For now.” John said. He took the paper. Brian looked at him curiously, but remained silent as John hugged him, letting the tall man hold and soothe him.

The funeral came and went and the week passed in a blur. Roger and Brian did an interview and talked about Fred’s last days, the intrusive press, the stigma of AIDs and homosexuality, the Mercury Phoenix Trust and a future Memorial Concert. John couldn’t believe they could be so articulate and composed, holding it together. This was such a contrast to himself. He needed to use every ounce of energy to go through the motions, trying to hold the patchwork pieces of his life together as the threads loosened. But not very well.

Veronica tried to be patient but became increasingly annoyed with his detachment. “I know you are hurting. But, we are here. We are living. We need you. All of you. Even when you’re crying you’re beautiful too. The world is beating you down. I’m around for every mood.” (1) She said.

Nights were long and torturous. Veronica got used to sleeping with John flipping around beside her. Memories assaulted him, stirring up tears as he recounted days together that would never be recaptured – or repeated, lurching him into a state of sadness.

Finally, over a week later, exhaustion overcame him, and John fell into a fitful sleep. A breeze circulated through the room and skimmed John, causing him to shiver just as he let himself slide into unconsciousness. Was the window open? he wondered. His eyes flickered, and through them he saw shadows of branches dancing on the bedroom wall, lit by the moonlight. He was too tired to get up to investigate, so he pulled the blanket up around his neck and finally, finally, let his body slide into the rest it craved.

Suddenly he heard that familiar voice, the voice that soothed, cajoled, joked, laughed, created, emoted, sassed, swore, bickered, slayed, agitated, mediated, cackled. Sang. Loved.

“Deacy, Deacy, Darling….”

“Freddie??” John sat up in bed as he glanced toward the wall, seeing Veronica cuddled sleeping. He turned the other way, toward the window, and blinked as his mustached friend came into full view before him: healthy, muscled and fit, dressed in tight white pants with a red sash belt, his white wife beater with the black lightning bold and the red jacket with the similar design.

“Freddie….you look …. like when we were in Japan. We ALL wore white!!”

“Yes! What a wonderful set of shows we had there – over the years, really!” Freddie said wistfully.

Deacy felt a jolt of energy rush through him. He was uplifted more than he had been in weeks. The chill in the room had vanished. “You’re healthy, Freddie. Tell me, please! It was it all a nightmare - and I’ve woken up and you’re still here!!!??”

“No, dear, I’m still dead, sorry to say.” Freddie said in his direct way.

“How? what, why, are you here??” Deacy asked, confused.

“I know you’ve been out of sorts and well, I want to help you move on. You know I love you and it pains me to see you suffering.” Fred replied.

“Freddie, I can’t – I just…I don’t know what my life will be like now. And I don’t know if I can play again. Without you. Inside my heart is breaking (2)…” It felt good for John to express his pent-up feelings.

Freddie nodded. “I understand. But - You have to join the living-your beautiful wife and children. They need you and they want you. They love you so. You don’t have to decide about playing, but if you decide you don’t want to – that’s ok. But you better bloody well play at my Memorial concert!” he laughed slyly.

“I will, Fred…I’ll play for you. Of course. When you died, a light went out, the same light that had guided me, brightened me and calmed me. You saw the best there was in me. Lifted me up when I couldn’t reach. You stood by me and I stood tall. I had your love I had it all. I’m grateful for each day you gave me. Maybe I don’t know that much, but I know this much is true. I was blessed because I was loved by you. (3) I keep remembering our times together-the images just come to me. Over 20 years of images. they’re supposed to be soothing but they just hurt.”

“I know. They won’t always hurt, Dear. As they say, ‘don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater.’” He chuckled. “See them as celebrations of our lives together.”

“I just can’t believe you’re gone.” Deacy felt his eyes brimming with tears, as Freddie looked at him with love and empathy.

Fred nodded. “You all knew, but the finality of it. But our music lives-and me, in it. And there are all those videos. Miami has them. Who knows one day, maybe they’ll be available to the masses!” (If he only knew) Freddie laughed, stretching his arms in a grand, graceful gesture, as only he could do. “Hear my song. Still think of me the way you’ve come to think of me…Just close your pretty eyes and you can be with me. (4) I will be there with you on your journey. When you need me, I’ll wait here in the silence until you come and sit awhile with me.” (5)

Fred continued: “Deacy-You have to choose to live. And love. You have so much love to share-you always have. You have to redirect your love for me elsewhere-to your family. And create new love, perhaps,” Fred winked.

Deacy looked down with a shy smile.

Fred continued, “Well, I’m sure you and Veronica can work on that! And the band-well, Brian and Roger will have their ideas. You need to do what’s best for you. Whatever that is, It will be ok. You don’t have to figure that out now. Any of it. Just be present – in this present. I know it’s not the one you chose. Hell, I assure you it’s not what I chose either. But unlike me, you have a chance for new chapters-with people who love you.”

Deacy took a deep breath, feeling the words and presence of his friend permeate him and a calmness envelop him. You’re safe in my heart, and my heart will go on. (6)

Suddenly, Deacy felt chilly. He put his feet on the floor and leaned forward. “Freddie, stay awhile!! Let me grab my bass and we can jam a bit - Anything, whatever you like.”

“I can’t, Deacy. Now the wind has changed direction and I’ll have to leave.” (7)

“Please Fred,” Deacy said as he lurched to touch Freddie, who backed up toward the window and started to fade. But before he did, he said, “I love you, Deacy. Remember our chat. I’ll always be with you-keeping an eye on you, watching your lovely family, laughing at your jokes. Focus on the future and the love in your life. Don’t let your life pass you by. Weep not for the memories.” (8)

“Freddie, no, no, come back…please, just for a little while longer.” John said frantically and started to cry. Veronica rolled over to John, easing him down on the bed and then swinging her leg and arm onto him, running her fingers through his hair.

“It’s ok, Darling. Did you have a dream about Fred?”

“It wasn’t a dream, Ronnie. He was here. I was awake. We were talking. He looked so good. He….”

“What did he say?” She asked, not debating the interaction he claimed.

“He reminded me of the love I have-with you and the kids. That’s where I belong. I must think of a new life, and I mustn’t give in. (9) And, he said we should …create new love….” He smiled at her.

“Oh, John, what a lovely thought. Let’s pick that up tomorrow.” She giggled. “Now, you need to sleep. Lie back, baby, let me kiss you to sleep.” And she planted soft kisses on his neck and cheek and rested her head on his chest. As John drifted off, their video of The Show Must Go On came to him. The images, the music and lyrics lulled him to sleep. I guess I’m learning. I must be warmer now. I’ll soon be turning, round the corner now. Outside the dawn is breaking but inside in the dark, I’m aching to be free….Fairy tales of yesterday grow but never die, I can fly, my friends. (10)

In a few minutes, Veronica heard his steady breathing of sleep.

She closed her eyes and whispered, “Thank you, dear, sweet Freddie,” before she joined John in a welcoming, deep slumber.

SONG NOTES

All of Me, John Legend (People’s Sexiest Man Alive, 2019!!)

The Show Must Go On, Queen

Because You Loved Me, Celine Dion

Teo Torriatte, Queen

You Raise Me Up, Josh Groban

My Heart Will Go On, Celine Dion (wow, two songs by CD, Ay, Caramba!)

Border Song, Elton John

I Will Remember You, Sarah McLachlan

Memory, From the Musical “Cats”

The Show Must Go On, Queen

#john deacon #john deacon x reader #queen fanfiction #queen fandom #freddie mercury #johnica #deacury #queen fan fic #john deacon fanfiction #john deacon fanfic

102 notes · View notes