#should I share the end of this where the objective of spin the bottle…. IS MET??? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sneezefiction · 4 years ago

Text

answers

oikawa x reader

desc: oikawa changes some lyrics in taylor swift’s song “love story”

a/n: please keep in mind that most of this is just humorous & there’s no serious characterization in this particular story. i laughed a lot while writing it :,,) for @cutiekawa because you gave me the idea; thank you for that! and also for @seroto-rin because this is very similar to your husband’s lyric changing habits lol – i still laugh whenever i think about it <3 warnings: language, mentions drinking/being drunk

wc: 3k

— It’s 2 am when you hear Oikawa pattering down the hallway and past your room. From the gentle footsteps and the occasional whisper of “shit” when the floor creaks, it's obvious that he’s trying to stay quiet.

But his attempts are in vain because, one, you’re wide awake and, two, he’s just knocked over an empty beer can from earlier. It was probably the one he’d left on the hall table – you’d told him to throw it away but he’d refused saying that he’d “throw it away in the morning when his arms weren’t so tired.”

This is just karma.

The clatter of the aluminum on wooden floors echoes throughout the dorm. A much louder, especially frustrated, “fuck” follows right after it.

The word, though crass, sounds deceptively attractive on his tongue. But most things Oikawa-related just happen to be attractive.

You muffle your laughter with a blanket. He’s probably disoriented from the alcohol – it’s only been an hour and 5 drinks each since you both called it a night. You’d headed straight to bed but he’d fallen asleep on the couch where you left him, hair a-mess and lips parted.

But, for someone who used to stay out till daybreak on weekends, he’s spent most Fridays hanging out with you instead.

This weekend was no different.

Oikawa ordered Thai takeout, you found a mindless Netflix series to binge, both of you had a little too much to drink, laughter ensued, the doe-eyed boy found his head in your lap, and…

You pull a face – one that goes unseen because of the dark, but you make it anyway.

Okay, that last part was a little different.

He’d had his head in your lap.

His head… in your… lap.

And, if you’re not mistaken (or delirious), you’d had your hands in his hair, twirling strands and tracing circles at the base of his neck. A foggy image of him gazing up at you with softened eyes, deep chocolate in color, begins to solidify.

That lazy smile, a hand on your thigh, tresses tickling your skin...

You turn over in your bed, bunching up your sheets and holding them close to you like a shield of fabric — a flimsy, make-shift defense against tipsy mind-wandering. It isn’t very effective.

Your brain is not wandering but racing around this hand-in-hair realization.

Like an iron rod poking at hot embers, these prodding memories make your cheeks grow hotter by the millisecond. You bury your face in your pillow, embarrassment tight in your throat.

Somehow you’d forgotten that he’d practically climbed into your lap. You’re not in the clear quite yet, but your brain is functioning well enough that it wishes you’d had a little more to drink – just enough to forget about it entirely. You starfish out on your bed, arms and legs dramatically splayed across the mattress.

Do (hot, charming, charismatic, windswept) flatmates usually get this... cuddly? Is that normal?

Does Iwaizumi wrap his arms around his roomies after a long day and a few bottles? How about Mattsun? Makki…?

Okay, no, none of them really seem like the type to get up close and personal with their roommates without good reason. Well, maybe Makki, but he’d do it to be a pain in the ass – not to charm the living-hell out of someone.

You try to take in a deep breath and wrap your head around what this means for you… but end up inhaling a feather from your pillow instead. As you hack and cough, you try to smother the noise in more cloth material – you really didn’t need him coming into your room, much less leaning over your bed to check on you.

Oikawa is messing with your head.

If you knew any better, you’d have run away screaming the moment he’d asked you to room with him. No one that pretty and charismatic is good news. At least, not when it comes to shared housing.

But, here you are, writhing under the covers and hot like a fever all because he couldn’t keep to himself. Screw him and his charming smile for putting you in this position.

He either knows you’re crushing like he’s the last man on earth or he’s blissfully unaware and way too physically affectionate for his own good.

You don’t dare consider that he likes you back though. Only deer and Olympic athletes made leaps like that. Oikawa had too many admirers… an irritating amount.

The blankets scrunch even tighter between your fists, likely thanking their maker that they don’t have nerve endings.

Every fiber of your being is begging to know if these feelings are reciprocated. You’d hate to live out the rest of this semester knowing the boy down the hall may not like you back. Worse, that he finds out you think he’s hot shit and doesn’t like you back – that would be unrequited love at its finest.

But, with a degree and your mental health on the line, why should you care about such minor, itty bitty, pointless details.

This isn’t that big a deal.

And even if he did like you back? Well, Oikawa isn’t someone you can simply “pin down.” He comes with a distinctive, dramatic personality and a meddling side. Not to mention, he’s already the embodiment of chaos – he’s proven this to be true over the past 4 months he’s lived with you.

There’s a familiar squeak of the shower faucet handle and the hiss of hot water. You jump at the sound.

Maybe he’d forgotten, but your bedroom shares a very thin wall with the bathroom. Though you recall him saying he wanted to take a shower earlier, so you guess that he’s only just remembered.

You pick up your phone, blue light casting a less-than angelic glow on your sleepy face. You pray that TikTok will have some sort of life-changing “I’m in love with my hot, crazy flatmate” advice. Or that it will distract you from your inner turmoil. Either would be appreciated but the latter seems more likely.

Scrolling slowly, you get through about 3 videos before something else catches your attention.

There’s a deep reverberation buzzing through your wall. A gentle hum, much like a shower-concert lullaby.

But the noise is getting louder. And the humming? A lot more lyrical.

You shift into a sitting position, propping yourself up with your hands. With your side sunken into a pillow, you press your ear against the cool drywall. Your ears tune into the sound.

Oikawa, voice confident and free, is… singing.

“...But you were everything to me, I was begging you ‘please don’t go’…”

But he’s not just singing.

“And I said…”

He’s belting Taylor Swift with the enthusiasm of an 11-year-old Swiftie super-fan. Like the world would end if he didn’t put enough passion into this performance. Like the showerhead is his microphone and the surrounding tiles are his adoring audience.

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone. I'll be waiting; all that's left to do is run...”

Most people would be pissed if their friend were singing in the shower at 2 am… but you can’t find it in yourself to be anything but enamored.

God, you hate him for doing this right now. Hate that he’s inadvertently endearing you to him. Hate that, no matter what you do, he’s somehow always there.

Pressed up against you on the couch, meeting you for dinner at his favorite restaurant, fussing at each other over a shitty cup of coffee in your even shittier kitchen, calling you when he needs somebody to keep him company at the library…

“You'll be the prince & I'll be the princess…”

And now he’s accidentally serenading you with Taylor’s “Fearless” album. In the shower.

You facepalm, sinking into your hands, exasperated and just so… done.

You sink back down into the bedsheets, wishing your earbuds were nearby to drown out the regrettably adorable performance.

“It's a love story y/n, just say ‘Yes.’”

And your heart drops, panic setting in like the touch down of a whirling tornado. A fire tornado. A fire tornado with frogs and lizards and sharp objects spinning around inside of it.

What… did he just say?

The lyrics… they were muffled. You definitely heard them incorrectly. You… you just need to get your ears checked. Yes, that’s it. That’s all there is to it. You’ll schedule an appointment first thing tomorrow morning.

Because who the fuck sings like that at 2 am in a shared dorm? And who the fuck puts someone else’s name into a song like that? No one? Yes, no one.

Especially not the Oikawa Tooru.

And especially not with your name.

Because that’s just... weird.

The grip on your phone is mighty – thank God for durable glass because any other material would’ve splintered or shattered in your hold.

But what the hell.

“Y/n, save me, I've been feeling so alone,” he sings as though he were Beyoncé’s son.

This time it’s clear as day. Oikawa is definitely still out of it and he’s undoubtedly singing your name.

No, no, no.

“I keep waiting for you but you never come…”

You bolt out of bed, feet hitting the floor at lightning-strike speed.

“Is this in my head? I don't know what to think,”

In one swift movement, you fling the bedroom door open and rush down the hall. You shouldn’t be listening to this.

“He knelt to the ground & pulled out a ring, and said...”

And before you can stop your hand, it’s knocking rapidly on the bathroom door.

There’s a gasp, what you assume to a bar of soap hitting the shower floor, and an abrupt silence that follows.

You’d only wanted to stop him from singing.

However, you hadn’t thought through what you were going to say to him about this whole... lyrical mess. Your face feels like the surface of the sun, burning and flaring and flushing. What are you supposed to do now?

Oikawa speaks up, voice quiet, “Hello?”

Shit.

Maybe if you’re careful you can get yourself out of this. Just act like you didn’t hear anything and bring it up tomorrow when you’re both thinking straight. A thorough and sober discussion would be needed.

You had questions. Questions that needed answers.

Why did he have his head in your lap? Had you said anything to him that you’d regret later? Does he like you? Where should you two place your boundaries if he doesn’t like you back? And why Taylor Swift?

“Y/n, is that you?” He asks, nonchalantly.

Who else would it be?

The handle squeaks and, with that, the water stops. Only the gentle swirl of the drain and the occasional drips and drops from the showerhead are audible.

It’s too late. You’re already there. You’ve knocked and, in doing so, you’ve sealed your fate.

“...Yes,” is your whisper of a reply.

“What’s up? Was I too loud for you?”

You’ve got the entire building on high-alert singing that loudly.

...is what you would say if you weren’t currently imploding. This is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. And nothing you ever want to experience again.

“Um, yeah, sorry.” You look down at your shuffling feet.

The hallway is pitch black, hardly allowing for even a mere shadow. Rushing out of your room, you’d forgotten to turn on even a single light.

You hear him step onto the tile floor and the rustle of a tower from the bathroom closet.

“Wait, can we talk?” He asks as though it weren’t the question of the fucking year. “I mean, preferably after I get out of the bathroom.” There’s a lack of tact to his words.

This isn’t the charming Oikawa you’re used to. This is a blunt… confusingly straightforward Oikawa.

His tone wavers like maybe he’d had a little more to drink than you’d last remembered. Your memory was proving to be disappointingly unreliable tonight.

You swallow thickly, “Sure.”

Because what else can you say?

“Can I stop by your room in a minute?”

You take a deep breath, “Yeah.”

And you patter back to your no-longer very safe haven. Oikawa is about to infiltrate your space… with your permission. And the weapons he’ll bring will either harpoon you or leave you emotionally paralyzed – whether that emotional paralysis is a good or bad thing will be decided in the near future.

Your bed, though soft and blanket-covered, looks far less appealing now. It may as well be a bed of nails because you would rather hide beneath it than sit atop it.

But you sit anyway, letting the mattress dip and the springs twang.

The bathroom door cries as it opens, putting you on edge. Your heart is pounding like a drum at a summer festival – hotter and louder with every beat.

The trod of footsteps tells you he’s approaching and, sure enough, the open door reveals Oikawa.

With only a lamp to brighten the space, he’s more contoured than usual. His hair is wet and heavy against his head, taking on an even darker brown than before. You’ve seen him fresh out of the shower before, but this… is different. Oikawa’s shirt sticks to his chest slightly – he must’ve thrown it on without drying off fully to get to you faster.

He takes a few steps into your room, choosing to lean his back against a wall next to your work desk. Oikawa brings his hands behind his back, pressing his weight into them. Brown eyes flicker from you to the wall behind you and back again.

Naturally, tension lays thick as a fog in the air space.

“Hey, I’m…”

You cut him off, “You don’t have to say sorry! It’s… it’s okay.”

Oops, you’d said that a little too loud. Not that it mattered much after Oikawa’s passionate performance.

An eyebrow raises and confusion sparks across his face. Your body freezes.

He brings a hand behind his neck. “Oh, I was just gonna say that I’m still kinda drunk.”

You knew that much. Though you really thought he’d say something other than that. Preferably something about the, uh, devoted love-song?

Why is he acting so casual right now? Is this even Tooru? Had he read too many alien conspiracies and been abducted for learning too much about extraterrestrials?

Maybe he doesn’t realize you’d even heard him say your name in the shower.

“Oh... right.” You say slowly, lips staying parted at the end of your sentence.

“Which… probably isn’t good for either of us,” Different words drawl out and there’s a soft slur to some syllables, but at least he’s easy to understand, “me drinking too much, I mean.”

“Yeah,” you mutter.

“I think we should both just go to bed then.”

Your chest tightens. Of course, you want answers.

They’re likely embarrassing, face-reddening, Taylor Swift-centric answers. But you want them, nonetheless.

Although, it’s probably for the best that you don’t bring this up tonight. It was all probably a joke or a harmless accident – and, anyway, he admitted to being drunk.

“Right.”

“But I think you should know that I like you. A lot.”

“Yeah,” you respond again, automatically.

There’s another heavy silence. The pretty boy just stares at you, cherry colors tinting his cheeks but showing no expression of fear or embarrassment. You stare back, processing his words at turtle-like speeds.

The words tumble out, “Wait, say that again?” You double back, your own face reheating to its earlier temperature.

“I’m gonna be mad at myself in the morning if I don’t leave right now. And I really need to stop listening to that stupid song,” Oikawa says to himself.

“But I wanted to see how you would respond if I changed the lyrics,” the words are pointed back at you again.

He stands up, feet moving slowly toward the doorway. Did he just… completely ignore your question?

Your jaw drops, “Did…” you can hardly speak.

Clearing your throat, you try again, focusing intently on your words, “...did you mean for me to hear you?”

“...Maybe.” He draws out the “e,” looking back at you.

That’s it. He’s lost his fucking mind. You’re going to strangle him.

No TikTok advice could have prepared you for the monstrosity that is Oikawa Tooru. How Iwaizumi put up with that... that child for all these years, you have no idea.

You have to make a note of sending him a “get well” card, because nobody could be mentally okay after dealing with him for that long.

“B- but… why? What?” You stammer out, back stiff as a board.

“You like me don’t you?” He tilts his head, hair flopping cutely with it.

You gape like a fish, mouth opening and closing.

And it’s not that you don’t want to respond.

It’s that you can’t. You have no words. You vocal chords are on a panic-induced lockdown.

Because he knew.

He knew this entire time. Which you thought he might, but that doesn’t make the situation any less infuriating.

“And I like you back.”

You’re dumbfounded. You can’t think. This is ridiculous.

You open your mouth once more but he has no intention of continuing this conversation.

“Sleep well!” Without further comment, Oikawa flashes you a sleepy smile and begins scampering back to his room after having wreaked havoc on your poor heart.

Your voice comes back just in time for you to wake up the entire building once more,

“No, you get your ass back here and explain yourself!”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa #oikawa x reader #oikawa scenarios #oikawa imagines #seijoh #what did i just write #this is gonna go under: 'things i gave up my sleep for'#ughsjdljlds'ldsdjd #also #i dont like the term crack fic anymore? so i think just calling it humorous is... a good way to go #goodnight yall #queued up!

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writingdayandnight · 4 years ago

Text

Line Without a Hook - Rafael Barba Imagine

Pairing: Rafael Barba x Reader (Fem. Pronouns)

Word Count: 2650

A/N: Inspiration struck, perhaps a little OOC. Will probably go back later and edit. Just a little treat for everyone who misses Barba like I do.

10:56 PM.

There was not a doubt in Rafael’s mind that he would not be home until after midnight. This case had been excruciating--brutal, really. Everyone had been pushed to their breaking point. Blood, sweat, and tears were poured into this case.

And here Rafael was with a pen cap fastened between his teeth, struggling to write an opening argument. It all seemed trivial. That words had the power to make or break a month’s worth of hard work. And that all he could think about was going home to his partner.

He wouldn’t allow himself the privilege of a break until he finished his opening and prepped the summations, which was always his least favorite part. Tying everything together with a neat bow seemed to minimize the effort put into seeking justice. But it was his strong suit. There wasn’t a jury he couldn’t convince if given enough leeway during summations.

His mind wandered yet again, back to the person that was waiting for him. He knew she would still be waiting for him when he got home, undoubtedly doing work of her own. She found solace in the quiet of the night. She would sit at the dining table with papers scattered across the surface, highlighters uncapped, lukewarm tea cooling unforgotten.

Then there were her expressions. A furrowed brow while drafting a proposal. A lip bite accompanied by pensive tapping on the table. Her head slowly moving to the beat of the music that was playing from the speaker in the corner of the room. An exasperated sigh escaping as she typed another after-hours email. All of these things were the tiny details that Rafael loved noticing, learning, anticipating.

Finally, Rafael caved and placed a long-awaited phone call.

“Raf,” she answered, voice as tender as kiss goodbye.

“Cariño,” he replied, feeling a million times better just knowing she was on the opposite end of the line.

“When will you be home?” He could hear her trying to hide a yawn behind the scenes.

“Not any time soon.”

“Rafael, please take care of yourself,” she pleaded, yet it was to no avail. She knew this.

“I have to finish this prep, Cariño.” He could hear her eyes roll from across the line, “I bet you’re still doing work, too.”

“That’s none of your business,” she retorted, with a guilty shift in energy.

“Take care of yourself,” he repeated, “I’ll be home soon. Don’t wait up.”

“I love you.”

His heart grew full, “I love you more.”

Rafael ended the call, reclining in his leather chair. He had been overcome by love, both for his partner and for the way his life had been going lately. Despite the monstrosities he witnessed at work, everything had been going well. Even then, he enjoyed working with his coworkers; they acted as a support system, making the job a little more bearable.

Then there was his love life. For once, everything was going right. He felt loved, supported, and capable of doing the same for his partner. It had been too long since he had that privilege. He knew too well the outcomes of a loveless life and he was trying desperately to escape them. Deep down, he understood that he didn’t deserve that.

But there were times where he thought he didn’t deserve the love he had stumbled into. Never in a million years would he have thought that he would have fallen in love with the girl from the bar.

The rain had finally let up outside, encouraging a few stragglers to clear the bar. Rafael remained, nursing a scotch on the rocks, muttering to himself about the news on the television overhead. It was a bunch of nonsense about the news anchor he and the SVU squad had just charged. He couldn’t listen much longer.

A gust of wind hit as the door to Forlini’s opened; it sent shivers down Rafael’s back. Inquisitively, Rafael turned to see the person who just waltzed into the bar. Much to his surprise, it was a beautiful woman. He smirked and returned to his drink, secretly hoping that she would find her way to the bar.

She did just that, taking a seat two stools down from Rafael. He continued to watch the television, discreetly listening to her conversation with the bartender. Small talk. Nothing more, nothing less. Aside from her order--a vodka cranberry.

“Will you get a load of this idiot?” She chirped, scoffing at the story of the news anchor. Her head was tilted in Rafael’s direction.

He took a moment to answer, pausing to make sure she was directing her remarks towards him.

“He’s surely a handful,” Rafael replied.

Just then, his face appeared on the television screen. They had played his interview on the courthouse steps. He had been ambushed by the press, and even though he delivered better than most, it was not his best work. He silently thanked the Lord that the sound was off.

“Is that you?” She asked, spinning in her seat to face Rafael.

“Yes, it is.”

“It’s a shame, you look better in person,” she tisked, taking another sip of her drink.

Rafael couldn’t respond out of awe. No, that wasn’t the right word. He couldn’t respond because he was flustered. That was a first.

“Sorry, it’s the vodka talking,” she retracted, making a face that suggested she was embarrassed.

“No, I’m flattered. It’s not everyday the pretty girl at the bar tells me how attractive I look while sulking alone.”

“This is your version of sulking? Sitting at a bar surrounded by a bunch of people?”

“Perhaps,” he smirked, “Rafael,” he offered his hand.

“Y/N.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

“I was named after a comic book character, please don’t give my parents that kind of credit,” she laughed. It was contagious, infecting Rafael with an affliction that could not be easily cured. Not without an exchange of numbers and a couple of dates.

The memories of their first meeting flooded Rafael’s mind. It further distracted him from the task at hand. But how could he not think of the most impactful night of his life? Screw graduating from law school or getting promoted; nothing could top falling in love with Y/N.

Nothing could top her love. From the little notes she dropped in Rafael’s briefcase to the silent support she offered when Rafael was not strong enough to ask for it. That’s when his mind wandered even farther, thinking back to the night he decided he was in love with Y/N.

Rafael sat on the couch in a near-catatonic state. He couldn’t muster enough energy to move. His mind kept circling back to the horrors he had witnessed over the past 24 hours. In his ten years, never once had a case hit him this hard. It just cemented the callousness of man, something he had been trying to deny for so long. There was no such thing as a good person.

There was a knock at the door, a sound that should have startled him. Instead he was too lost in thought to react. He simply got up from the couch and headed to the door, only to be greeted by Y/N on the other side.

“Rafael,” she mused, before noticing the hurt behind his eyes, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

She invited herself in, dropping her overnight bag by the door. Concern washed over her.

Rafael tried to speak but no words came out. He couldn’t find the right thing to say. His choices were to expose Y/N to the horrors of his job or simply keep it bottled up. His choice was the latter; he couldn’t bear the thought of unloading this grief on her.

“Raf, please talk to me,” she quietly pleaded.

He did not respond. Instead, he made his way to the couch, taking a seat in the same spot he had been sulking in for the past three hours.

Y/N followed without command. She rested her head on his shoulder, wrapping her hands gently around his arm. She placed a kiss on his cheek. It made Rafael’s heart jump, yet he still remained silent.

But that didn’t deter Y/N. She remained glued to his side, occasionally laying a gentle kiss on him or drawing circles on his bicep. She didn’t push; she knew better than that. Still, just her presence brought Rafael to his knees.

After an hour or so, Rafael could feel her heartbeat slow. He could see her eyes fluttering shut from the corners of his.

“I love you,” he whispered, hoping that she wouldn’t hear. Rafael felt guilty saying those words for the first time in such a terrible state.

“I love you more,” she replied, drifting into a slumber in his arms.

Rafael knew this could never be true.

The hands on the clock seemed to turn at an unprecedented pace, yet Rafael had gotten little done. It all seemed pointless. There had to be more to life than this. Hours spent in some poorly-lit office drinking dirt flavored coffee, waiting for his mind to stop running a marathon so he could focus. Watching people suffer everyday for some little bit of justice. Doubting the existence of good in the world with every passing moment.

But the thing he couldn’t stand was being away from the love of his life. For such a pointless endeavor. It was pointless, but it wasn’t what he wanted. Not anymore. Not with the prospect of love sitting right in front of him. In that moment, he decided to be the most spontaneous he had ever been.

He whipped open the bottom left drawer of his desk, pulled out a copy of his resignation letter, signed it, and placed it in the mailbox of his boss. He grabbed his jacket, briefcase, and cellphone before practically running to the lobby of Hogan Place. By a stroke of sheer luck, a taxi had been idling outside. Rafael got into the taxi without hesitation--or permission--and called out the address to the apartment he had shared with Y/N. Getting to their front door was his only objective.

As he settled into the taxi, he reached inside of his briefcase and felt a small item lodged at the bottom. Rafael quizzically pulled it out, determining that it was cube-shaped. As it was illuminated by the passing streetlights, he recognized it instantly. And that’s where he decided to make the best decision of his life.

“Mami, are you going to be okay if I’m gone for two weeks on vacation?” Rafael asked, changing a lightbulb in his mother’s apartment.

It was a Saturday which meant it was his day to do chores around his mother’s apartment, with much reluctance on behalf of Lucia, while Y/N went through her laminated chore checklist back at their apartment. Rafael had come straight from his office, totally forgetting his to-dos. Until Y/N reminded him--a pretty common occurrence.

“I promise, Mijo,” she said, taking his hand and guiding him down the step stool, “I’m just happy you’re taking time off.”

“Me too,” he sighed, a wave of bliss flooding his mind as he thought of going to Greece with Y/N. He’s dreamt of her sunburnt cheeks and wine-stained lips since the moment he bought the tickets.

“It seems like an awfully romantic vacation. Have you thought about asking yet?” Lucia hinted, pointing to her ring finger.

Rafael didn’t want to say ‘yes.’ He didn’t want to let her know that he had been planning it since their six-month anniversary. He couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with the woman he loved.

“I’ve considered it,” he teased, “but Greece is too cliche. She wouldn’t appreciate it.”

“You underestimate her, Rafi. She loves you.”

“And I love her. More than anything.”

Lucia scoffed, furrowing her brow in disgust.

“Besides you, Mami,” he sang, pulling her in for a hug,

While in Rafael’s arms, Lucia slyly removed a small box from her pocket and slipped it into Rafael’s briefcase. It was his grandmother’s ring, the one she always talked about leaving for him. The one she made sure to mention everyday she was sick. Lucia would never forget something that important.

Rafael grabbed his belongings with haste, basically throwing $50 at the cab driver, telling him to keep the tip. He slammed the door behind him, jogging to the apartment elevators. He was too lost in thought to greet the doorman or the security guard at the front desk. He was focused on one thing and one thing only.

The elevator couldn’t come fast enough--Rafael tapped his foot anxiously, cursing the damned thing. As soon as it opened, he pushed the 8th floor button at least ten times. He felt a rush of nausea, excitement, fear run over him. The elevator dinged and Rafael ran, rummaging through his pockets for his keys.

He opened the door as fast as he could, revealing Y/N calmly making a cup of tea in the kitchen. Lamplight illuminated the living room. Her laptop was opened to a document, purple and yellow sticky notes scattered on the table. 2000s Pop Hits playing in the background. He had captured her in her natural element; he was witnessing the essence of Y/N.

“Baby, it’s midnight,” he spoke, calmer than he had been all day.

“I know, but I was in the zone. I thought you wouldn’t be home tonight,” she answered, walking over to place a kiss on his lips, before strolling back to the kitchen to stop the whistling kettle.

Rafael’s heart was beating out of his chest. His hands were shaking, mind racing. This was it. This felt right.

“Y/N?”

“What’s up, babe?” She gently blew on her tea to cool it down.

“I quit my job today.”

Y/N almost did a spit, “I’m sorry, what?” She exclaimed.

“I couldn’t do it anymore. It broke me, Y/N.” He sighed, walking to her side, “There are better things in life than case briefs and court.”

Y/N was shocked but supportive, “Well, I’m glad you’re finally free. Why don’t you get ready for bed and sleep for the first time in a decade?” She laughed, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“There’s one more thing,” Rafael said, reaching into his pocket and for the emerald box that housed his grandmother’s ring,

Rafael expected the words to escape him; he hadn’t prepared anything in the taxi. These weren’t summations, he needed guidance.

But that didn’t stop him.

“Y/N, you made me realize that I don’t want to live my life circling the drain and going through the motions. You have brought color to my black and white life. The joy you bring me everyday is immeasurable. Every second I spend away from you makes me feel like the world is ending. I can’t live without you, Y/N. That’s why I’m asking you-” Rafael began to bend his knee before Y/N cut him off.

“Yes! You don’t even have to ask. Yes, yes, yes!” She exclaimed, a tear already sliding down her cheek.

Rafael pulled out his grandmother’s golden ring from the box and slipped it on Y/N’s finger with extra care, as if she was made of glass. Tears had formed in his eyes as well, seeing the ring that reminded him so much of the other most important lady in his life. The most romantic person he had ever met.

“I love you, Y/N. I wish I could have given you a better proposal, but I couldn’t wait,” he chuckled, once again admiring how well the ring hugged her fingers.

“If you waited any longer, I was going to ask you,” she laughed, kissing him again and again. “Let’s go to bed,” she whispered, placing a kiss on Rafael’s neck.

#rafael barba imagine #rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #barba #loml #imagine #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu imagine #law and order special victims unit imagine

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nastybuckybarnes · 4 years ago

Text

Jolly Sailor Bold

Pairing: Pirate!Peter Parker X Mermaid!Reader

Summary: Pirates once ruled the seas, and they’re wanting that power back. All that stands in the way are Mermaids and Sirens. For all of history the two have been slaughtering each other with no remorse. So what is it about you that’s so intriguing to Peter? And why do you, in turn, find yourself wanting to protect the sailor?

Warnings: Language, Old Language, Slow burn, Angst, Pirates, Violence,

Word Count: 6.5K

A/n: So plot twist I’ve already worked 40 hours this week so I’m a little behind with my writing but you guys can have this while I finish up some other things. Happy Ficmas!!!

Peter Parker IS AGED UP IN THIS

~*~

Inspired by ‘Prates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides’ and FreeForm’s ‘Siren’

“Upon one summer's morning I carefully did stray Down by the Walls of Wapping Where I met a sailor gay”

‘Beneath the surface of the water, past the line of the reef, lies a danger beyond any man’s comprehension. A danger concealed by soft skin, enticing eyes, and a melody that lulls sailors and pulls them from their ships to the depths of the ocean. The creatures, beautiful in appearance, roam the depths of the seas, living in deeper oceanic waters during the times of tired men, when the victim count is lower.

Female as they appear, deadly as they are, enchanting as they sound, they are often confused with their close relatives. But Mermaids be far worse than the Siren’s they’re confused with.

Upon a glance they seem similar, side by side the naked eye may not be able to tell them apart. But the one thing that separates these creatures is the undeniable bloodlust that Sirens feel, contorting their once beautiful faces to a hideous mask that never leaves. The hunger whenever they smell human blood. While mermaids are more equipped to handle the hunger, better at concealing it, the sirens show no shame in claiming men, in giving in to their animalistic desires and draining the life of a helpless sailor.

Mermaids appear a more peaceful creature, although deadly. Hardly capable of refusing the smell of fresh blood, they only seem serene on the outside. Below the surface lies teeth sharper than sharks, a voice that can command and compel the strongest minds, and a strong body that is capable of destroying a thousand ships.

Sailors beware, Pirates be warned, for the mermaids are ruthless. Heaven forbid ye ever fall into their path for they will grant no mercy. Pray a Siren finds you and ends you quickly, for her looks will be none too pleasing, but a mermaid will distract and drain, her eyes alight with desire, as she deludes yer weak-willed mind. So swords high, guns aimed, and never look at a dame in the water, for that will be yer undoing!’

“I see you’re trying to scare my new crew member, Buck!” A blond-haired man slaps the brunet’s shoulder, smiling warmly at the young man he was talking to. “Who might you be sailor?”

The boy looks down timidly. “P-Peter. Peter Parker,” he says quietly. “Well Parker, I’m Captain Rogers, this is my first mate Bucky. We’re happy to have you aboard!” Peter nods enthusiastically and gets up from the stairs leading to the forecastle.

“Well kid, go make yourself useful. And remember what I said. If you see a woman in the water, do not look at her. You find someone who’s good with a gun and shove Seaweed into your ears. Don’t let her sing. If she sings you’re done for.” The boy swallows hard and nods again, watching as Bucky walks away and takes the helm.

He leans over the thick wooden side beams and looks out across the water, his eyes scanning for anything unusual. A sudden pat on his back startles him and he whips around, clutching his chest. “Woah, calm down Parker. It’s just me,” Ned says softly, looking around then leaning against the side beams as Peter was.

“So, how’s it feel to be a real sailor? I mean we’re basically pirates now.” Peter snorts and looks out across the water again. “I feel like Pirate is a term used by those who fear people who go and get what they want. We may be Pirates, but it’s not like we’re bad people,” Peter says softly. Ned nods, looking around with a smile on his face. “You know Captain Rogers’ first mate Bucky? He was telling me about the dangers of the sea. Mermaids and Sirens. Do you... do you believe in any of that stuff?” He asks.

Ned looks over at his friend and shrugs. “I mean, we hardly know anything about what’s under the water. There’s probably something.” Peter bites his bottom lip and shakes his head no.

“I’ve heard stories you know,” he begins, “of people who survived attacks, saying they remember beautiful voices and enchanting looks. I think it could be true. I just hope we don’t come across anything like that.”

Ned shrugs then walks away, finding something to keep himself busy as they sail to deeper waters.

“Okay lads! We’ve made it out to sea! First night always ends in celebration so celebrate we will! Take what you can!” Captain Rogers calls loudly. “Give nothing back!” Bucky calls just as loud. “All of you now. Take what you can!” Rogers repeats. “Give nothing back!” The crew shouts, throwing their hats into the air and clinking their bottles of booze together as they celebrate. Peter chuckles as Ned downs a whole bottle of rum, not envying the headache he’ll surely have the next day.

He looks out across the dark water, tired after a long day at sea. He sighs and shakes his head as he thinks back to the tale Bucky told him earlier, chuckling lightly at how ridiculous it seems now. He turns away from the water, freezing in his tracks halfway through the turn. He slowly turns back and catches sight of something bobbing in the water a short distance from the ship. His eyes widen and he leans forwards, inspecting the object as it moves closer slowly.

The object stops and Peter nearly screams as it turns and dives into the water, an iridescent tail flashing above the surface for a moment. Peter glances at the bottle of alcohol in his hand and shakes his head, hurrying away from the side of the ship and down to the crew’s quarters to try and sleep off whatever alcohol is making him hallucinate.

The water brushes up against the ship, rocking it from side to side gently. You watch curiously as the humans cheer and drink from aboard. A young man breaks off from the group and leans over the railing, looking out across the water. You raise your head up a bit and watch him closely, your eyes widening as you make out his face.

He has curly brown hair, and light skin; his cheeks are flushed from the alcohol and his eyes are... you can’t exactly make out what colour they are. Letting your instincts pull you, you slowly move forwards, watching the man as he starts to turn away.

He suddenly stops and turns back to look directly at you. You move closer still and watch as he nearly subconsciously leans forwards. A high-pitched call gets your attention and you stop then dive under the water, desperate to find your sister, the person calling you, and tell her of your findings.

She calls out for you again and you reply, your voice deeper than hers, resonating throughout the sea and echoing off of rocks and reefs. Cutting through the water effortlessly, you spin towards the cavern the two of you share. You pull yourself up and break the surface of the little air bubble-esque cave. “Where were you?” She asks as soon as you’re inside, her voice a high keening call.

“I was exploring. I found something... someone.” She raises her eyebrows and wrings out her long raven hair. “Who? There are no mermen for miles around here. They recognize this as our area. It isn’t a siren, is it?”

You roll your eyes and shake your head no. “I didn’t meet anyone. I found people, Ariadné. Humans! They’re on a ship. I think they’re pirates.” She frowns and shakes her head. “You do know that pirates killed mom and dad, right? They should all be killed for what they did.” You sigh and lower yourself into the water again, leaning your head onto your arms.

“Not all pirates deserve to suffer for what a few did. Blackbeard and his crew were punished for their doings. We got our revenge. What more could you want?” She sighs and mimics your position. “I want them all gone. It’s enough that we don’t eat them, but they all deserve to suffer as we did. As our pod did.”

“Ariadné, what would mother say, hearing you talk with such hatred? She raised us better than this. She raised us different than the others. We have more compassion in our hearts than they do. We mustn’t lose sight of that. I understand the hurt, but we were raised to protect the humans. When our brand is on a ship, other pods of Mermaids and Sirens know not to hurt them.” Your older sister scoffs and shakes her head.

“Our parents died because the Pirates were afraid!” You flinch away from her and she sighs. “I did not mean to frighten you. I’m just scared for you. If I lost you as well... I don’t know what I would do.” You smile gently at her and nod, leaning your head onto your arms again. “I don’t believe he saw me. I’m careful, Ariadné, I promise.” She sighs and nods once, wanting the little argument to be over with.

As your sister drifts off to sleep, your mind travels to the sailor who may have seen you earlier in the night. A pulling in your gut shoves an idea into your mind. A terribly dangerous idea that spikes your curiosity.

You glance over at your sister and, after making sure she’s sound asleep, you venture out of the cavern and swim quickly to the warmer waters closer to the surface.

Slowing as you see the large shadow of a ship, you carefully raise your head above the surface, looking around then up to the deck, trying to find the man from before. You look around carefully, smiling as you see him leaning against the railing again. He looks out across the water, his wrists crossed over each other. You tilt your head to the side curiously and swim slightly forwards.

"What're you doing up at this hour?" A voice calls from behind him. He turns and you watch as a man comes up beside him. “I... felt like I needed to come here. The water... does it ever call you?” The other man takes a deep breath then nods.

“Quite often. It’s why I do what I do. I love the water, I can’t be away from it. It’s my home now. And it can be yours too, if you’d like.” The brown-haired boy who you’ve been watching smiles.

“I’d like that, thank you, Captain.” You watch as the taller blond man pats the other man’s shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Peter. Don’t let Bucky’s tails of the sea scare you. You’re safe.” The Captain walks away, leaving Peter alone.

You risk moving closer, wanting the see more of his beautiful face. He sighs and looks at his hand before tossing something into the water not far from your head. You reach out and grab the object, frowning in confusion. It’s a very smooth rock, bright red.

You look up at him and carefully toss the rock back at him, smiling as it lands right past him, clanking on the deck.

He spins quickly and stares at the rock in disbelief before grabbing it and inspecting it. He looks out to the water, his eyes finding you again.

“You again?” He asks in a whisper. You slowly swim forwards and raise your shoulders out of the water. “Am I hallucinating? Are you... real?”

You stifle a giggle as he battles with himself. He glances down at the rock in his hand then back up to you, an idea popping into his head. He tosses the rock at you and you catch it before it hits your head.

“You are Peter,” you state, tossing to rock back to him. He freezes at the sound of your voice, the rock hitting him in the chest then falling onto the railing.

“You-you can talk. Your voice is... wow.” You smile brilliantly up at him and he slowly steps back. “I need... where’s Bucky. Oh, Gods, I need to find Bucky.” He shoves his fingers in his ears and runs away from the side, the rock tumbling into the water. You frown and grab it then swim back to the cavern where your older sister is sleeping.

“Dude, slow down! What happened?” Ned asks from the empty crew’s quarters. Peter looks around then grans Ned’s hand. “I saw a flipping... woman. In the water. She talked to me. I threw a rock at her and she caught it and threw it back. She... I... I swear- Ned, don’t look at me like that! I’m not crazy!” Ned holds his hands up in surrender. “I never said you were. I just... I think maybe the saltwater is getting to your brain a little bit.” Peter scoffs and turns away from his friend.

“I know what I saw. What I heard. She’s out there.” Ned nods slowly, “okay, then why didn't she eat you? Why didn’t she sing? You said she spoke to you but didn't sing. That doesn’t sound like mermaid behaviour.” Peter furrows his brows. “Maybe she... maybe she isn’t like the others. Maybe she’s different. Doesn’t hurt men.” Ned scoffs incredulously, shaking his head no.

“I can’t believe I’m friends with a lunatic. You know, people like you are where all those bad rumours about Pirates and Sailors come from.” Peter sighs and gets up, walking away from his friend and back up to the main deck to look in the water again, desperate to find any proof that he actually saw a woman... a mermaid. That he heard one.

‘You are Peter.’ It replays in his mind over and over, the melodic yet somewhat deep voice that has been haunting him ever since it happened.

Peter takes a deep breath and walks towards the helm, finding Bucky right where he thought he’d be.

“You alright Sailor? You look like you’ve seen a sea witch,” Bucky says while patting Peter on that back. Peter looks up at the man with a weak smile. “Mister Bucky, Sir... do you actually believe in Mermaids and Sirens? Or was that just you trying to scare me?” Bucky sighs and looks around for a moment before rolling up his sleeve.

“It’s how I lost my arm. Why I’ve been so apprehensive on these waters. Not far from here... a storm was brewing. We briefly lost control and a few of us fell overboard. I was one of them.” Peter waits patiently for Bucky to continue.

“They were waiting, rocking the ship with their tails. They were mermaids. Their beauty... was unparalleled. The most beautiful creatures I’ve ever seen in my life. One of them grabbed me, dragged me under the water while singing one of her bloody songs. I broke free, hardly, but as soon as I was above the water she grabbed my arm and pulled me back under, her sharp teeth locked onto my shoulder and she ripped my arm clean from my body.”

Peter stares at the metal arm in shock and slight awe. “Steve, the Captain he is, shot nearly all of them. He helped me up and we made berth in Tortuga. I got this arm and when we got back on the sea... Steve and I made a vow to kill any single one of these creatures. We lost a lot of men that day. We refuse to let anyone else get killed because of those horrible beasts.”

Peter nods slowly then looks out to the water. “And it ain’t like Mermaids and Sirens just stick to specific waters. They live all over. Migrate with the tides or stay where they are. They live all over the world. Nowhere will be safe until they’re all gone.”

“Genocide,” Peter whispers to himself, fearing for the life of the mermaid he only met yesterday.

“Are all of them... bad like that?” Bucky shrugs, pulling his sleeve back down. “I don’t wait long enough to find out. As soon as I see a woman who ain’t drowning in these waters so far from shore, I shoot first.”

The colour drains from Peter’s face and he shakes his head trying to get rid of the strange feeling of dread that’s suddenly filling him.

“Why?” Peter looks up quickly, a forced smile on his face. “No... no reason. I was just wondering after the whole story the other day. I just want to know what to do in case I come across something so... heinous.” Bucky nods and grabs a pistol out of one of the many holsters on his body.

“Here. Keep this with you. You ever see a woman out there, don’t let her open her mouth. Shoot her and shoot her fast.” Peter slowly nods, accepting the gun and looking at it carefully. “Now go on. I’m sure there’s something else you can do. We make Berth in Nassau in a few days to gather supplies.” Peter walks to the helm stairs but pauses at the top of them. “What kind of supplies?” Bucky grins, “we’re off to find something special."

You watch the ship from afar, holding the red rock tightly in your right hand as you think of Peter. A hiss from behind you gets your attention and you spin quickly, relaxing as you see who it is. The Siren lets out a high pitched cry, asking what you’re doing. You reply in the same tongue.

“A boy on the ship,” you begin in a keen, “he is interesting.” She shakes her head and grabs onto your arm, her scaly face scrunched up with fear and mistrust. “He saw me yesterday and he did not hurt me.” She shakes her head again and pulls you under the water, swimming quickly away from the surface with you right behind her. “Ryn! Ryn wait! Where are you goin?” You ask. She halts just underneath a deep-sea reef, her hands coming up to her face.

“Does Ariadné know that you’ve been sneaking around near humans? Pirates none the less? She’ll kill you herself if she finds out!” You sigh wistfully and roll your eyes.

“You do not understand. He... he is different.” She scoffs. “You don’t even know him. He is a pirate. If any of them see you you’ll be dead in moments. You know that.” You look down and nod slowly. She cups your cheeks and lifts your head, smiling with her pointed teeth. “C’mon. Let’s go find something big to catch. I’m in the mood for a challenge.”

She pulls you forwards, swimming quickly while calling out, listening for any echoes or replies to clue her into the whereabouts of a large fish, preferable a swordfish or young shark.

She suddenly perks up, the stabilizing wings on the sides of her tail flattening against her tail then shooting straight out as the gills on her neck move swiftly, taking in oxygenated water and disagreeing with everything else. She speeds off in the direction of the hunt and you follow, moving ahead of her as you catch the scent of a young adult great white shark. Your tail forces the water away from you, pushing you forwards.

Ryn comes up beside you and glances over at you, her sharp teeth bared and her once white eyes now fully purple with the promise of a meal. You slow down as you see the shark, your enhanced eyes finding it a few miles away. “Let’s have some fun,” Ryn says while swimming directly at the shark. You smile and swim after her, chasing her as she chases the shark.

It’s terrified. You can smell it. It turns around after a few more minutes of chase and you grin at the challenge it’s presenting. It snaps its jaws at Ryn and she squeals, moving out of the way as the fifteen-foot great white shark swims after her. You jump in, grabbing the shark’s dorsal fin and digging your nails into its side. It turns it’s head as much as it can and tries to snap at you. Ryn uses its distracted state and bites into its neck, tearing out a chunk of meat. You quickly do the same, catching some of its gills. It slowly stops struggling, bleeding out. You take another bite out of it, taking your time and eating the shark with Ryn.

“Save some for your sister. She hasn’t hunted today. She could use some food.” You nod and look around, hearing the calls of nearby Mermaids and Sirens as they smell the shark carcass.

“We should go before we need to fight for our catch,” you say, ripping a large chunk of meat off of the shark and swimming away from it as the calls get closer. Ryn grabs a chunk and swims after you, giggling happily.

“You’re back. I thought for sure you would’ve gone with the humans by now,” your sister says sarcastically, a relieved smile on her face. You nod and offer her the shark chunk. She smiles and takes it from you graciously. “Have you heard?” Ryn asks after a moment of silence. You look over at her with a frown, hoping she’s not going to tell your sister about the whole Pirate fiasco.

“I hear Pirates are going to Nassau to stock up then they’re going to find a kind of ancient treasure. Knowing them it’s probably a dead end.” You nod your agreement and sigh, thinking about the brown-eyed pirate boy.

“I hear with the moon coming they may not make it. The Sirens want them and they’re not stopping this time,” Ariadné muses around a mouthful of shark. You frown at her, “we must brand the boat then. Protect the sailors.” Ariadné and Ryn both look at you as if you’ve grown a second head.

“Why would we do that? They go out of their way to find us and kill us. Let them be claimed by the Sirens,” your sister says carelessly. You slap your tail against the water and glare at her.

“That is not how we were raised! We aren’t careless creatures. We are not ruthless hunters! We help. Protect! You forget about that,” your voice trails off and you look at the two expectantly.

“Nothing. So that’s just it?! You leave them to be killed?” They both slowly nod. “Not me. I will not. I cannot.” With that you turn and swim out of the cavern quickly, your eyes hurting. Your sister and Ryn call out for you, their cries echoing in the deep sea. You roll your eyes and search for the old cave where your parents raised you.

“The full moon is coming. The sea has been too quiet these past few days. I fear the worst,” Steve says to his first mate. Bucky sighs and looks around the Captain’s quarters. “Tonight, isn’t it?” He asks, remembering the strange conversation he had with Peter a few days ago.

“Yes. As the sun sets I fear we won’t live till morning.” Steve stands up and walks to the door. “Do not alert the men except those who know the dangers that lurk in these waters. We will need someone on watch tonight. I’ll take aft, you take astern. Find someone for Starboard and Port. Leave no section unmanned.” Bucky nods, knowing the first person he’ll get to watch.

“Parker, I have a task for you.” The young man looks up from his book as Bucky walks to the helm stairs. “Yes sir?” The metal-armed man sighs and looks around.

“Tonight is the full moon. The most dangerous time of the month. I would like you to be in charge of watching the starboard side of the ship tonight. You see anything, you shoot it then report to me. Understood?” Peter nods his head frantically, stuffing his book under the stairs and getting up.

“The winds are in our favour tonight. We should reach Nassau by dusk tomorrow,” Bucky says while walking away to take his own post. Peter leans over the rail and stares into the water, looking for any sign of anything resembling the woman he saw a few nights prior.

You carefully press the shell against the back bottom of the ship, burning your family’s brand into it. A shrill cry from behind you nearly makes you drop the shell. You look over your shoulder and bare your teeth, hissing at the Siren behind you.

She balls her fists and cries again, clearly frustrated with your claim on the ship. You hiss again and move away from the ship, claiming your space further. She reluctantly turns and swims away, crying out every now and then to let other Siren’s know of the change in plans.

You’re suddenly thrust away from the ship, sharp nails raking down through the brand. You hiss at the person, recoiling as you see who it is. “I told you to leave the Pirates alone!” Your older sister snarls, her voice still melodic.

The Siren stops and looks back, intrigued by whatever’s happening. “And I told you that I will not!” Your voice is threatening. “I can’t believe you. These people have taken everything from you. Your mother and father. Some of your friends. I will not have you defend them!” She grabs your arms and you wail loudly as her nails dig into your skin.

The Siren circles back to the ship and is quick to scratch the brand fully off. “No!” You thrust your elbow back and catch your sister in the ribs. She falls back and watches you in shock as you swim quickly to the Siren, grabbing her hair and slamming her head against the ship. She cries out and holds her heard, snarling at you. You dig your nails into her throat, slicing one of her gills. She shoves herself away from you and swims away quickly, clutching her neck.

“You are a fool!” Your sister exclaims. You turn to her and bare your teeth. “I will not have you ruining my chances of saving innocent men!” She chuckles and looks at the ship. watches as it rocks in the waves.

“How do you know they’re innocent? How do you know that they do not slaughter us and our sisters? You don't! Do not go and defend people when you do not know their actions!” You shove her shoulders again. “And do not go and kill people without knowing their actions! If you do it makes you no better than them!” She stares you down then looks up, watching as the ship sways some more.

“I will not go out of my way to defend people who have killed my family. If you wish to that is your choice. But if you get hurt do not come crying to me.” She turns and swims away from you, shunning you from what’s left of your family. You cry softly, high pitched and sad, but your sister doesn’t so much as flinch. You look down for a moment, saddened by the fact that you’ve lost the remainder of your family.

Peter looks out across the water, darkened by the fallen sun but lit up by the stars and full moon. All throughout the night, he’s been hearing light calls that sound similar to whales and he’s kept his gun high.

A rock suddenly hits his chest lightly, surprising him. He looks around the ship but upon finding no one, shrugs and looks back at the rock, his eyebrows jumping almost off of his face. The exact same red rock that he lost in the water a few nights before is lying right on the rail in front of him. He looks out into the water, searching for you.

Little does he know that you’re just below the surface, your eyes on the gun in his hand.

He glances at the rock again and carefully picks it up, placing the gun down and tossing the rock back into the water. You raise your head out and catch the rock, smiling gently as Peter looks at you. “It’s you,” he whispers, recognizing you. He glances up at the moon as Bucky’s words bounce around in his head then grabs the gun, aiming it at you.

The smile falls from your face and you watch as Peter seems to fight an internal battle. You look down at the rock in your hand then back up at Peter, holding the rock up for him to see. He opens his hand and you toss the rock to him. He holds it in his hand carefully then looks at you, noticing how you’re staring at the gun. He gently sets it down and offers you the rock again.

You catch it and swim forwards a bit, keeping your senses on high alert for any hostile movement from under the water or above.

He glances over his shoulder, noticing the man keeping watch on the port side is fast asleep and Bucky and Steve are nowhere to be found. He looks back at you, surprised to see you so much closer.

“Are you going to hurt us?” He finds himself asking the question before he can think. You’re surprised by him directly talking to you. “I don’t hurt,” you reply. Peter nods, entranced by your voice.

“Do you have a name?” You smile up at him, lifting your shoulders out of the water. “Yes. I am (Y/n).” He tests the name and grins. “I-I’m Peter.” You giggle lightly, the sound dazing Peter.

“I know,” you whisper. He blushes and looks over his shoulder. “If you’re not going to hurt us... why are you here?” You look down at the water for a moment then back up to him. “Because I am intrigued. You are humans. I have never... met a human.” Peter nods slowly, trying to understand why you’d want to meet a human.

“Well, look you can’t be up here. The others aren’t like me. They see you and they won’t wait for you to explain. They’ll kill you in cold blood.” You tilt your head to the side.

“But not you?”

He shakes his head ‘no’ and smiles lightly. “Not me. I haven’t been raised like them. Your kind hasn’t given me any reason to want to hate you.” You find yourself in awe of his spirit. “You need to go though. If anyone sees you... you’ll be in trouble.” You swim back a bit then look up into his eyes. “Will I see you again?” You ask desperately.

He looks over his shoulder, his eyes widening as he sees Bucky emerge from the Captain’s quarters. “Peter?” You ask. He looks back at you then at the rock in his hand. “We make port in Nassau by tomorrow night. I’ll walk along the beach and find a doc. Leave the rock somewhere you can go and I’ll find you.” He tosses the rock to you and you catch it, ducking under the water and swimming away quickly.

“Parker? Is there something there?” Bucky asks, jogging to his side quickly. Peter looks at the man and shakes his head no. “I... I just thought I saw something. I threw a rock at it and it was nothing though. Can... is there any way I’d be able to switch shifts? I think my eyes are playing tricks on me. I need to get some sleep.” Bucky pats his shoulder and nods.

“You go get some shuteye, I’ll take over for you.” The young man glances across the water again then heads away from the rail and below deck to the crew’s quarters.

“Alright, everyone. Make quick work of rowing to shore. We don’t want to be in the deeper waters for longer than we must,” Steve says, taking the first of a few longboats.

“I’ll... I’ll catch up. I want to gather my thoughts,” Peter says as the second last boat goes. “You’re alright rowing by yourself?” Bucky asks from inside the longboat. Peter nods, needing time to himself. Bucky nods and rows away with the boat full of people, leaving Peter to himself.

After a few moments he lowers the longboat then jumps in, grabbing the oars and slowly rowing towards the shore.

“Peter,” you whisper while breaking the surface right beside him. “Jesus!” He tosses the oar half a foot away from him and nearly tips the boat over in his state of fright. “I am sorry. I did not mean to scare.”

He looks at you then does a double-take, your beauty so much more enchanting in the daylight. “(Y/n)...” You rest your arms on the side of the boat and look up at him. “Yes, Peter?” He simply stares at you, taking in your form for the first time up close, enjoying your strangely accented voice.

Your eyes are a striking shade of (y/e/c), brilliant and bright. Your skin, smooth and (s/c) is covered in iridescent scales. The scales are light on your face, only on your jawline and by your hairline, not covering your face. On your neck, they gradually get more concentrated and underneath your collarbones, they cover you like a skin-tight suit.

Peter slowly leans forwards, his eyes moving down past the edge of the boat and into the clear water where your tail would be. “Peter?” His eyes snap back up to your face and he backs up a bit. “You’re out... It’s bright outside. Someone could see you.” You look around then back up to him. “I have never been this close to a human before,” You whisper, raising a hand off of the boat and slowly extending it towards him.

“Can I touch?” He looks at the webbing between your scaly fingers and the stabilizing wings on your forearm then nods, looking to your eyes as you run your fingers over his shirt, feeling the fabric carefully. “It is soft,” you whisper after a moment, looking back up to his eyes. He nods then looks towards the dock. “I need to go to shore. They’ll be waiting.” You frown and pull your hand back.

“We’re staying here for a few days. Then we’ll be back on the water.” You nod your understanding and bite your bottom lip. You slowly move away from the boat and head swim backwards.

“Bye Bye Peter.” You turn around. “Wait! Will I see you again?” He asks. You smile to yourself and raise one of your hands out of the water. “I leave the rock where I will be.” He smiles and watches as you submerge yourself, your tail flicking above the water as you swim away.

“Tonight, good men, we splurge! Find a dame, a woman. Let yourselves go! We leave in a few days so enjoy yourselves!” Steve cries, his arm around a brown-haired woman with a British accent. Bucky is with a different brown-haired woman, this one voluptuous. “Don’t expect to see us around anytime soon either,” Bucky adds while kissing the woman.

Peter turns away and walks out of the bar and down to the beach, sitting in the sand as the moon shines down brightly, a warm breeze blowing through his curly brown hair. He looks down either side of the beach, stopping as his eyes rest on a pair of legs on the dry sand. He follows the legs and stops on the face, his heart stuttering.

He runs through the sand, probably looking ridiculous, and slows when he nears you.

You’re lying on the sand, unconscious and naked.

He pulls his sweater off and drapes it over your body before carefully shaking your arm. “(Y/n)?” Your breathing is heavy and it concerns him a bit, the concert getting shoved away as you slowly open your eyes.

“Peter?” You ask softly, pushing yourself up onto your forearms. The sweater falls off of your skin and Peter blushes, pick it up and draping it over your shoulders. “How... how do you have legs?” He asks, his fingers hovering over them for a moment before he pulls his hand back. “Mermaid can be human out of water.” He nods and looks around.

“You stay here. I’m gonna go grab you some clothes. Then we’ll... take it from there, okay?” You nod your head yes and watch him with wide eyes as he stands up and walks away from the beach. You look down at your own legs and wiggle your toes, giggling a little at the feel of it. You dig your feet into the sand and throw your head back laughing at the tickling feeling of the sand between your toes.

Peter hears your tinkling laugh and can’t help but smile, wondering what’s causing it. He grabs some clothes from a store with no one watching and hurries back to you.

“Here, I got you some pants that looked your size and I figured you could keep my sweater.” You look up at him with a smile on your face. “Peter is kind. Why?” He hands you the clothes and shrugs, “because (Y/n) is kind.” Your eyes soften and you look away, down to the clothes.

“Can Peter help (Y/n)? Please?” Peter nods and takes the pants from your hands, straightening them then gently taking one of your ankles and putting it through the leg hole. He does the same on the other leg then takes your hands and brings them to his shoulders.

“I’m going to stand up with you. Hold onto me.” You nod and let him pull you to a standing position. His hands grab the waistband of the comfortably tight pants and he pulls them up all the way, a fiery blush staining his cheeks the entire time. His fingers rest on your waist for a moment before he pulls them away to help you into the sweater.

As soon as it’s on properly you grab his hand and look at it closely, your eyes flashing to his as you rest your hand against his. He stays perfectly still as you bring your other hand to his chest, his shirt unbuttoned and open. Your hand rests on his bare skin, tracing over the crisp lines of his muscles.

“Peter is soft,” you whisper, your fingers trailing down lightly below his bellybutton, following the line of hair until you get to his pants. “Yeah, my skin is soft. So is yours.”

You smile, “(y/n) is soft too?” He chuckles and brings his hand up to your face, his fingers lightly tracing your cheek and down your neck. “Yes. (Y/n) is very soft.” You close your eyes as Peter’s hands move down your neck. He pulls away only to grab your waist, his fingers pressing into the soft skin under the sweater.

“So soft,” he mutters. You sigh and slowly open your eyes. “Will Peter tell (Y/n) about humans?” You ask quietly, looking up into his soft brown eyes. “Uh... sure. W-What do you wanna know?” You bring your hands to his shoulders and usher him down to the sand. “Everything.”

Peter lies down on the sand with you beside him, your hands in his as he tells you everything you want to know.

#jolly sailor bold #mermaid #mermaid aesthetic #mermaid au #pirate au #siren au #siren #pirate #Peter Parker #Pirate!Peter #freeform siren #ryn inspired #Peter Parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #Peter Parker x mermaid!reader #Peter Parker x reader mermaid au #Peter Parker x reader pirate au #pirate!Peter Parker x mermaid!reader #pirate!Peter x mermaid!reader

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chalametdarling · 5 years ago

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T.C. fluff: Being Timothée’s co-star in an upcoming romantic drama, and having a long weekend off together to explore the coastal European city you’re filming in

“Wow, this is beautiful.” You hugged your rolled-up towel close to your chest, the view of a crowded beach, sparkling crystal blue water and colourful umbrellas lining the sand awaiting you.

“Oui, c’est très beau,” Timothee agreed, playfully nudging your shoulder, guiding you to follow him down onto the sand. You slipped off your shoes and the two of you began meandering through the endless sea of warm sand and towels, eventually finding vacant real estate between a young family and a group of women bathing in the sun. It was Timothee’s idea to explore the French town you were filming in together while you had a few days off, and as you laid down your towel, and Timothee retrieved containers of strawberries and savoury biscuits from his backpack, you couldn’t believe you’d thought of spending your Friday any other way.

You talked and ate and waded into the water, splashing each other and jumping over waves. And when you weren’t doing that, you alternated between reading your script and a novel while Timothee laid on his stomach, headphones on, head resting on his arms. You couldn’t quite tell behind his sunglasses, but judging by how you’d finished reading an entire chapter and he hadn’t moved a muscle, you assumed he’d fallen asleep. Under the sun block and daylight, his pale skin seemed to glow. His hair a perfectly messy mop, grains of sand nestled into the ends of his curls. Timothee really did have perfect features. You could objectively see that now that you were really looking at him. Bold eyebrows poking over the tops of his sunglasses, strong nose, angelic lips- “You staring at me?” You quickly looked out towards the water, resting your chin onto your knees and hugging your legs. “No, just checking if you were awake.” He rolled over, stretching out. “I am now.” Checking the time on his watch, he added, “Shit. We’ve been here for hours.” He reached out and picked up one of the few remaining uneaten strawberries by its stalk while you packed away your books into your bag. “Do you feel like getting dinner?” he asked, tossing the leafy remains into the pile you’d made as you ate. “Yes,” you eagerly nodded your head. Laying out on the sand all day really worked up your appetite. Already feeling drowsy from the fresh air and too much sun, you followed Timothee’s lead from the shore to the row of bars and cafes lining the beach. He led you inside the doors of a quaint pub; one hand holding the door open, the other on the small of your back. A live band was set up on the raised stage towards the back, playing acoustic French music for those enjoying meals and post-work drinks. You found a seat at the bar, sharing bread and wine, your heart swelling the more time you spent learning the workings of Timothee’s mind. You could’ve sat all night with your chin in the palm of your hand, listening to him rattle on about his favourite directors and film theories and character studies, then abruptly stop himself with an embarrassed laugh, running his palms down his thighs. “Anyway,” he laughed, shaking his head. He finished his drink, then tuned into the DJ who’d since replaced the initial band. “Wanna dance?” Several drinks in and hours of dancing later, you were still on the dance floor with a drink in hand. As the night went on, every time your head spin subsided, Timothee was either dragging you through the crammed bodies back over to the bar or replacing empty glasses in your hand with overflowing cups of alcohol. After the fourth glass exchange, you put an arm around his neck to pull his ear down to be level with your lips. While your thoughts were still somewhat coherent, your words were a little slurred. “Timmy, maybe you should slow down a bit.” As you were speaking, the ABBA remix playing faded into Kid Cudi, and you watched as your words fell onto deaf ears. Timothee’s face lit up and he shouted, “FUCK YEAH!” raising his free arm above his head. Your eyes followed his movements as he sang along to every word, big grin on his face, never stopping to breath; only pausing for a sip of his drink. Before you knew what was happening, your back was against the wall and Timothee’s lips on yours. But just as quickly as he had kissed you, he was pulling back, flicking his hair back and shouting the next lyric through a tipsy grin. As the chorus started for a second time, he caught sight of you watching him, wide eyed and in a daze, and set his empty glass down as you reached to grab his waist. He stepped in to kiss you again; this time harder, longer and deeper. The remainder of the night became hazier and hazier; only blurred visions of licking salt off the back of your hand and clinking shot glasses, jumping and spinning around the dance floor, and your fingers getting caught in Timothee’s salty curls remained. * An instant ache shot through the middle of your forehead as you blinked your eyes open, and you groaned. Sheer confusion washed over you, your mind unable to piece together where you were or what day it was, until you spotted a familiar black backpack against the wall and a bottle of cologne on the dresser. Ah, Timothee’s place. Timothee’s bed, to be specific. Slowly rolling over and rubbing your eyes to look behind you, you discovered you had the bed to yourself. The other side was practically untouched, blankets still tucked under the mattress. A door creaked open, and Timothee emerged from the adjoining bathroom, dragging his feet behind him. Seeing you were awake, he changed course and climbed onto the intact side of the bed, mumbling out, ‘Morning’ in a deep, soft voice. He sat with his back to you, and the one hand cradled to your chest itched to reach forward and trace down his spine. You weren’t sure where the urge came from. Maybe because of the way his hooded eyes, drunk on tequila and European air, remained locked on yours for hours last night. How his strawberry lips sponged kisses on your cheek and neck as you waited at the bar. How his hands had so delicately clasped around your cheeks when he kissed you for real over and over and over again. It would’ve been so easy to push back the covers, walk your fingers across the mattress; to drag them up and down his back or affectionately twist the ends of his hair. But Timothee was leaning back against his pillows to lie down beside you before you could muster up the courage to do so. With interlaced fingers resting on his bare chest, he looked over to you. “How did we get home last night?” You yawned, nestling further down into the pillows. “We walked, remember?” “Oh, shit.” Timothee nodded, pursing his lips with a hum. “I feel like shit.” ��You drank a lot last night,” you said softly. He licked his lips, covering his face with his hands. “Fuck.” He stayed like that for a few moments, rubbing his face, and you wondered if he’d forgotten anything else from the previous night. “I should probably go back to mine.” He dropped his hands back to his chest, looking over again, voice gentle as he spoke. “You can stay if you want.” “No, I should go and have a shower,” you told him, rolling onto your back and stretching your arms out. Timothee’s fingertips ghosted over your neck with a small smile, and you instinctively moved your head back from under his sudden touch. “What?” He shook his head, bringing his hand back to its resting place on his chest, eyes still lazily drooped as he enquired about your plans for the rest of the evening. You pushed yourself up to sit against the headboard, your hand subconsciously hovering over the spot Timothee’s had just been. “You know we have work on Monday, right? I’d like to read my lines at least once before then.” After pointing out you brought your script out with you the previous say, he added, “You have all of Sunday for that.” You pursed your lips with a sigh. He rolled over, holding his head up with his hand. “Come on, y/n.” You evidently didn’t need much convincing, because a few hours later, you were meeting Timothee for ice cream. Desserts in hand, you found a small table outside the ice cream parlour, shaded from the orange glow of late afternoon sun by an umbrella. The two of you sat looking out at the streets, sunglasses hiding both of your dark, hungover eyes, observing the strangers passing by. And when you had the chance, you stole glances at the boy sitting across from you. When you met him out the front of the hotel, his formerly dry, sandy hair was now shiny, the ends still a little damp. He smelled fresh when you hugged him, and his jumper was soft on your cheek. He’d complimented your turtle neck top, which reminded you… “By the way,” you said, pulling Timothee’s attention from the open roads to you, “I’m not too happy with you, Timothee.” He frowned, taking another lick of his ice cream. “What the fuck did I do?” You teasingly held his stare. “Oh, I don’t know,” you said, pulling down the high neck of your top to reveal your purple stained skin. A shy smile overtook Timothee’s face and he shrugged, laughing awkwardly. “Oh, yeah. Sorry?” “Funny is it?” you mused, sliding your sunglasses down your nose to look over the frames at him. Timothee licked his melting ice cream, then said, “No, but now that you mention it, y/n, I’m mad at you too.” You slid your glasses all the way off, placing them down on the table. “Really? Why’s that?” Timothee, with a cocky smile, tugged down the chunky collar of his sweater, revealing a light bruise at the very base of his neck. You instinctively lowered your face and hid your eyes behind your free hand. “Oh my god.” Through the cracks between your fingers, you saw him smiling, bringing his cone back up to his mouth. “Forgot about that, did you?” Dropping your hands with a laugh, you reached forward, using your thumb to push back his collar again and run your thumb over the mark you left on his pale skin. “Sorry,” you mumbled with a little pout. With an exaggerated sigh, looking up to make eye contact with Timothee, you added, “What is wrong with us?” He laughed, putting his hand on your wrist and running his thumb over your skin. “It’s alright. I forgive you.” You shook your head in mock disapproval, but there was a buzzing in your chest as you felt his lingering eyes and warm skin on yours. You strolled back to the hotel in comfortable silence. Despite being a bundle of nerves, it was nice being with him. He made you think, and he made you feel. A man adorned in a billowing linen shirt sat on the side of the street, guitar in hand, singing a sombre tune. You slowed down along with the few other strangers who had paused to listen to the man’s song, Timothee a few paces behind you, taking his sunglasses off as he slowed. A few moments passed, and Timothee leaned down from his place behind you so that he could speak softly in your ear. “He’s singing about his lover.” Timothee paused to listen to the next line. “He doesn’t want to live without them… he feels empty… and sick… he- he’s waiting for her but… he knows she’s gone for good.” Turning over your shoulder, you pouted up at Timothee, who reciprocated the expression. “That’s so sad.” Timothee nodded. His hair flopped over his cheek, and you noticed his eyes sparkling in the golden cast of evening light. Over his shoulder, a couple held each other, longingly looking into each other’s eyes, tenderly touching each other’s cheeks. As a loaded weight settled on your chest, you looked back up at Timothee. The space between his eyebrows slightly creased and he smiled. “What?” Clicking your tongue against your teeth, and shaking your head, you answered, “Nothing.” You both knew it wasn’t nothing. With a sigh, you snuck your hand between his arm and body, grabbing onto his forearm to lead him away. “Alright, I only agreed to ice cream. Let’s go.” It was quiet when you got to your floor of the hotel, so you tried to be as silent as possible climbing the stairs, so other guests weren’t disturbed. You and Timothee were work colleagues, and friends, and his room was only ten steps further down the hall, and you were almost positive that you’d definitely be seeing him again the next day; but as he lingered by your door as you rummaged in your bag for your key, you couldn’t help but feel a little sad you were saying goodbye. Once you retrieved your key, you looked up at him with a smile. “Alright,” you said softly. “This is where I leave you.” Timothee stood by your door, shoulders slightly hunched, eyes stuck on your face. He wasn’t budging, and you weren’t game enough to break first. His messy curls flopped over his eyes again, and you pushed them back behind his ears. He held onto your wrist, slowly lowering it down to your sides. Relationships with colleagues could get messy. Everybody knew that. What does this mean for us? The words were caught in your throat. You wanted to ask; to say it out loud. But you couldn’t bring yourself to form them. Why couldn’t you just be okay with enjoying the moment? Timothee inched his head closer to yours slowly, almost unsure if it was okay. You kept your eyes lowered. “Timothee,” you whispered. “Yes,” he whispered back, resting his forehead on yours. You slowly shook your head. “I can’t.” “Why?” You didn’t respond right away, eyes still focused towards the ground, and he nudged the side of your nose with his, then pulled back from you. “Hmm?” You sighed, closing your eyes and lifting your face to his. Very slowly, he took the sides of your face into his hands. Static in the air charged your movements as his lips grazed against yours. Somehow, you simultaneously had both a million things to say, yet nothing at all. You settled on hugging him, chin resting over his shoulder. It was nice hugging him; to have him holding you close. “Good night, Timmy,” you muttered, eventually breaking free. “Good night,” he said in reply, hands sliding out from around your waist. With tingling lips, you stood up on your toes for a second to place a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth once more. You unlocked your door, and while slipping inside your room, you looked over one last time at Timothee smiling. “Good night.”

#bit late but got there in the end #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee #timmy #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet blurb #timothée chalamet #timothée chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet fluff

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crystaljins · 5 years ago

Text

River lead me home | 06

Characters: Kim Seokjin x reader

Word count: 5.6k

Synopsis: Ever since coming to the human realm when you were child, nothing seems to fit, and this was just supposed to be a simple roadtrip to help you find yourself.

Is that too much to ask for?

Spin-off to A long journey home

Rating: Teens

Genre: Adventure, fluff, angst

Notes: This is like the third or fourth time I’ve forgotten to post the chapter LOL!! Anyway, we’re fast approaching the end and I’m so tempted to draw it out because I’m not ready to say goodbye T.T but i’m also reaching the point where i can’t even remember what happens in each chapter LOL I read the cute messages you guys send and I have to go back and re-read to know what youre talking about ahaha

Also I feel like there hasn’t been enough asks about Jungkook’s role in this story and hopefully that will change after this chapter LOL

Tags: @blue1928 @veeparkersstuff

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 FINAL

As the three of you prepare to depart the next morning, Ayla catches Jin as he’s packing up the supplies provided to him. The Psittanurans had been generous in their rewards and you all have abundant supplies to last you through until you reach the human realm once more.

“I apologise for offending Jungkook,” Ayla announces, as she helps Jin sort through the various medical supplies the Psittanurans had gifted to him. He’s not entirely sure on the function of each object, and so Ayla had offered to talk him through everything.

Jin pauses in his examination of a bottle of sharp-smelling liquid to glance at Ayla in surprise.

“Don’t mind him.” Jin says dismissively with a warm smile. “He has the manners of a sewer rat. In fact, if you want to execute him for his disrespect, feel free to.”

Ayla’s eyes go wide, her bright yellow iris peering at Jin in absolute horror.

“I would never do such a thing!” She cries. “Do you not care at all about your wish?”

“My wish?” Jin echoes in confusion. He can’t say he has a specific wish- mostly for peace and quiet, but the timing for Ayla to bring up a wish seems strange. She tilts her head curiously to the side.

“Is it not your wish he must fulfill? Is he (Y/N)’s pixie, then?” She wonders aloud. Jin stares, completely confused.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say he belongs to either of us- he’s just kind of there. Like a toe fungus- hard to get rid of and painful to look at.” He snorts.

“That’s strange. Usually pixies stay with the creature who made the wish, but it doesn’t sound like either of you have made a wish.” Ayla observes. Jin pauses as he packs away the last of his medical kit- the niggling feeling he had felt last night about Jungkook returns.

“Wish?” He tests the word aloud. It does sound vaguely familiar- if he reflects on his schooling from before the war, he does vaguely recall something about pixies and wishes. But he can’t think what it is, and his memory is frustratingly blank.

“Do you not know the origin of pixies? I would have thought an ancient species like a guardian would know everything there is to know about the species that inhabit this realm.” Ayla observes. Jin frowns. Perhaps, if his people had not been driven heartlessly from the realm they spent generations protecting, he would have the extensive knowledge that Ayla seems to expect of him.

“Refresh my memory.” He says slowly.

“A pixie is born of a desperate wish.” She explains. “And their goal and purpose in life is to see that wish come to fruition.”

Jin blinks. Jungkook, in all the years Jin has known him, has never mentioned anything with regards to a goal or purpose. All he’s ever done is get into trouble alongside you and antagonise small, fluffy dogs.

“So, you think Jungkook has a wish he has to fulfill?” Jin questions. Ayla nods.

“He must. He could not exist otherwise. Although, it is strange that neither of you seem to know about that. Can you not think of a wish he must fulfil?” She asks curiously. Jin frowns as he recalls the night before. Jungkook had been frustratingly vague when discussing why you had to see the river. And casting a spell to force you to see it had been oddly out of character for him. Could his strange behaviour have to do with whatever the wish is? What even is the wish? Is it yours? Why have you never mentioned it before?

“I can’t.” Jin finally admits. “This is the first time I’m hearing about how pixies are born. So then, what happens when they fulfil that wish?” He wonders. Ayla shakes her head.

“I’m afraid that knowledge has been lost to time. No one has even seen a pixie in a very long time- they aren’t exactly common.” She admits. “The last one was probably the Saishta Queen’s pixie; it managed to convince two guardians to steal the young dragon prince. So, they have a bit of a bad reputation.” She admits.

Jin is silent. Taehyung had been involved with the dragon prince incident, he knows, and his new girlfriend had gotten dragged into the fray too. But as far as he knew, Taehyung had never met any pixie. And Jungkook, as annoying and pesky as he is, would never do something as awful as that. Not to mention it’s been thirteen years since Jin met the little pixie. If he’d had bad intentions, he could have acted far sooner. It’s far more likely that you made a wish and you didn’t realise you’d created Jungkook.

Still, he can’t help but wonder. If a pixie is born of a desperate wish, what was the wish that led to Jungkook’s birth? And what could Jungkook’s goal be in leading you to this realm, and to the river?

Ayla takes her leave then, bidding Jin a warm farewell and wishing him well on the rest of his journey. She leaves Jin alone in the little hut he had taken residence in for the night.

“It’s not anything bad.” Jin starts at the sudden voice and turns to find Jungkook sitting comfortably on the little cabinet at Jin’s bedside. Neither he nor Ayla had registered the little pixie’s presence, which is disconcerting to say the least.

“What?” Jin snaps, irritated by the way he was so startled. Jungkook stretches and gets to his feet.

“The wish. It’s not for anything bad. So, you don’t have to worry.” He tells Jin with a yawn.

“How come you never mentioned it before?” Jin asks curiously. Jungkook shrugs.

“Well, I can’t. We can’t speak of the wish or the owner of the wish aloud.” He explains. “And as for why I waited so long... I guess I was afraid. I don’t know what will happen to me when I grant the wish.” He confesses.

Jin stares at Jungkook for a long time, and for the first time since he’s known the little pixie, Jin realises that Jungkook is very good at hiding behind a smile. He can’t imagine what it must be like, having only a handful of people and some moths to talk to for thirteen years. Watching them grow up without you- not being able to share in the bonds and friendships they formed.

“Will... will something happen to you?” Jin questions hesitantly. Jungkook shrugs and shoots him a grin, but there’s a tired quality to it.

“I certainly hope not.” He answers, but the implication is clear: something might. Jin feels a tremor of unease at the thought.

“Are you guys done? We really should be heading off?” You call, popping your head in through the doorway of Jin’s little hut. You’re already sporting your hello kitty backpack and you’ve changed into a fresh pair of clothes. Jin wasn’t afforded the luxury of fresh clothes, but luckily the Psittanurans had some travel garments they could lend him. It fits a little strangely given their unusual body shapes, but their tendency to make loose-fitting, free flowing clothes has worked in Jin’s favour.

“Almost.” Jin says quickly. Jungkook flutters up to land cross-legged on Jin’s shoulder. Your gaze catches the exchange, and you arch an eyebrow. Obviously, it’s strange to see Jin and Jungkook getting along. But you brush it aside and offer Jin a smile instead.

“Great! Because apparently the river is only a few days away! Isn’t that great?” You ask cheerfully. Jin struggle to keep a straight face as he recalls Ayla’s words from last night.

“Hey,” Jin says slowly because he doesn’t think it’s right to keep such knowledge from you. “About the river-“

“Let’s get going!” Jungkook interrupts, leaping across the distance from Jin’s shoulder to your own like he’s an Olympic athlete. He stabilises himself against your neck and glares at Jin over his shoulder. The meaning of the look is clear enough- don’t say anything. Jin bites his lip- he’s not sure it’s right to keep it secret.

But something stops him. He doesn’t know why. Something about the tone of Jungkook’s voice when he confessed that he didn’t know what would happen to him... it lingers in Jin’s mind.

With a sigh, Jin shakes his head and steps so that he’s standing shoulder to shoulder with you.

“Have you said goodbye to everyone?” Jin asks, because he knows you’d somehow made a whole bunch of friends during the festivities last night. It was surprising, to say the least. You’d never been the social kind or the type to win the attention of people you’d just met.

Or maybe you’d just never been in the right situation to do so. Jin feels an uncomfortable pang in his chest at the thought.

“Yup! So, there’s nothing left to do now except see the river.” You respond. You glance sidewards at Jin. “What were you and Jungkook talking about?”

“About your embarrassing crush on him.” Jungkook drawls.

Your eyes go wide, and Jin feels his heart drop into his stomach. He can’t believe Jungkook would blatantly throw him under the bus like that- actually, no. He can believe that.

“I... I...” you stutter, and your cheeks glow red and if the darn pixie didn’t have such quick reactions, Jin would be taking great pleasure in flinging him through the air at the nearest tree. Your mouth trembles and you look like you’re about to cry and if the revelation of your feelings didn’t already have Jin feeling like the scum of the earth, then this most certainly does.

“(Y/N),” Jin calls hastily, already desperately trying to plan how to placate you. But then you swallow and stare at him with hardened eyes.

“I don’t have a crush on you.” You assert firmly.

The words die on Jin’s tongue. He doesn’t know why, but they do. It’s like you’ve just slapped him and he’s still reeling from the shock. He opens his mouth a few times, but no words come out- he just flounders uselessly like a goldfish that had foolishly leapt out of the safety of its tank.

And it’s stupid. It’s positively idiotic. But he can’t help but think… you didn’t have to deny it so aggressively. It’s not like... it’s not like your feelings are a secret! And when you deny them like that... it just sounds so convincing! Wouldn’t a simple “huh I don’t know what you’re talking about?” suffice?

You take the opportunity of Jin’s speechlessness to get a head start, huffily storming off towards the eastern exit of the village. Jin shoots Jungkook a glare.

“Very nice.” Jin snaps. Jungkook shrugs.

“It was me or you, man. And sorry, but I choose me.” He says simply.

Not for the first time, Jin restrains the urge to give Jungkook the solid flick he deserves.

Luckily, though you have a multitude of irritating personality traits, holding grudges is not one of them. It does not take long for the wonders of the next leg of the journey to catch your eye and before long you are chattering Jin’s ear off like there’s no tomorrow, about the wildlife you’ve spotted or about the weird plants. It makes him smile, because this trip is finally being enjoyed in the way you intended it to be.

For the first time since starting on this wretched journey, Jin realises he is enjoying himself. The sunlight streams warmly through the trees and gradually the metallic flora native to the Golden Plains starts to infiltrate the surrounding shrubbery. With your detour to the marshlands, you had essentially skipped the starlit wonder of Mountains of Delaria, but you will still get to see the magnificent Golden Plains as they are the only way to access the river after leaving the swamplands.

It’s so rare to see you smiling and cheerful. Usually you’re hunched and awkward, like a puppy that’s just been scolded for urinating on the carpet. But here, you’re bright- he’s even go so far as to say that you’re radiant, in the afternoon sunlight, surrounded by the mystically glinting metallic plants. You’re in your element in a way you’ve never really been before.

It makes a warm, fond feeling bloom in the centre of his chest. This is the (Y/N) that everyone has been trying to get back for so long. The girl with sunshine in her smile and bright, eager eyes. He had almost forgotten that girl existed but seeing her now- seeing you now- has him smiling like a dope.

“What will you do when you go back?” It takes him a moment to even realise he’s asked the question. You stare at him, a bit surprised, while Jungkook shoots him a look like he’s gone crazy. Jin almost curses his big mouth, but then you smile at him.

“I don’t know.” You confess. You turn your gaze to where a low hanging flower dips into your path. Its petals glint a wonderful metallic purple and when you run your fingers over them, they are stiff like sheets of metal.

Jin prides himself on being a bit of a smooth talker- no one can be as popular with women as he as without a bit of a silver tongue, so to speak. So, no one is more surprised than himself at the tactless words he blurts out next.

“Would you ever stay here?” He regrets the words as soon as he says them. What if he’s giving you ideas? His mum would kill him- your mum would kill him. And he’d never be able to visit- he’d wait a week and two years would have passed for you. Within a year, 120 years would have passed in this realm. You’d be long dead from old age by that stage. And yet... the question has been weighing on his mind without him even realising it. You’re so happy and at ease here- if you can’t ever settle in the other realm, does that mean the only place you’d ever be happy is here? His heart leaps into his throat in anticipation of your answer. Jungkook simply stares in confusion.

“No.” You say, and the firmness in your voice stills the panicked racing of his heart. “There’s nothing here for me, now.” You shoot him a furtive, shy glance. “Our family is in the other realm.” You remind him. “This was only ever supposed to be a short trip.”

For some reason, his slow, stupid brain lingers on the way that you say “our family”. Not “your family”. Or “my family”. But “our family”. Like the two of you are family. That strangely fond feeling from earlier returns, but with a vengeance, carried on the wings of the thousands of butterflies that decide to take residence in his stomach. Jungkook’s incredulous expression morphs, and it irritates the way he looks strangely smug at Jin’s sudden floundering. Jin suddenly finds himself missing the time he had with you earlier, without Jungkook there to eavesdrop and pass judgement.

“You seem really happy here, is all.” Is all Jin can manage.

You turn to face Jin fully and your answering smile is annoyingly bright.

“I’ve wanted to do this for years! Of course I’d be happy.” You remind him. “But me being happy here doesn’t suddenly make it my home. It stopped being my home the day that...” you trail away for a second, and your smile falters. “Anyway, it hasn’t been my home for a long time.” You say dismissively.

“So, what did you think this trip would achieve, then?” Jin asks curiously. “And why now, right after a fight with your mother? You know she must be worried sick about you.”

You grimace, staring straight ahead. The trees are starting to thin out, and in the gaps between the foliage, an endless expanse of blue peeks through.

“Are you trying to scold me again?” You joke. “I get that it was irresponsible. And selfish too. But Jin,” your expression as you gaze at him is so serious and sincere that for a moment, Jin doesn’t know who you are. It’s like an entirely different person gazes you at him. “I really, truly want to be happy for my mother. I love her more than anything. I want to be celebrating her marriage. I do. But I can’t... I can’t just forget about him. I can’t just move on.” Tears well in your eyes as you come clean. It’s been a very long time since you’ve been vulnerable and open with Jin like this and it surprises him to realise that he missed this. He’s missed having your trust and affection. He doesn’t know how he lost it, but he’s strangely relieved to know that he’s slowly gaining it back. “I’ve tried so damn hard. But I won’t be able to smile at her wedding or celebrate with her until I’ve said goodbye.” You confess. “That’s what this trip was. It’s a chance to say goodbye. So yeah, I’m happy to be here. I’m happy to be seeing the things he wanted me to see. But no, this isn’t my home- home is where you guys are.”

In that moment, Jin realises something. He doesn’t know how he hadn’t realised it sooner, with it staring him right in the face all this time. But never has it been clearer to him than in this moment- you’ve grown up. Somewhere, somehow along the line, you stopped being that little girl who needed him to hold her hand or stand up to her bullies in school. That’s why you’ve stopped looking like the girl he’s known all his life. It’s because you’ve stopped being that girl. And yet, at the same time, you haven’t. The person who stands before him is the young woman he’s cared for most of his life... but also a young woman he doesn’t know. Someone who can defeat Forest Spirits with her mind and infiltrate enemy encampments with nothing but her wits to save her friends. Someone who was brave enough to take the steps to recover after losing everything. And yeah, maybe you took a few bum steps along the way. Maybe you didn’t settle in as easily as he did. But you’re so much better than what he thought you could be- what anyone thought you could be.

And he’s so incredibly proud of y-

“Look out!” You’re shoving him to the ground before he can even finish the thought. He winces as he hits the ground.

“(Y/N)!” Jungkook cries, and Jin’s never heard that tone of absolute terror in the pixie’s voice before.

“Jin.” You gasp, standing where he had been a mere moment prior. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, until he gazes over your shoulder and he spots it. The arrow, sprouting from your left shoulder, right through the hot pink strap of your backpack. The blood, pouring from the fresh wound. The agony in your expression.

And he’s a doctor- he’s seen much worse in the ED but for the first time in his life the sight of blood makes him dizzy enough that he may pass out. You’re bleeding- you’ve been shot. Worse- you were shot instead of him. That arrow’s trajectory should have lodged itself directly where his heart had been moments ago, but instead you took the hit.

You took an arrow for him. He should be dead... but you... but you...

Time seems to slow as the colour drains from your face. You crumple, and Jin scrambles forward, barely managing to catch you before you hit the ground. He cradles you, his expression manic.

“You idiot!” He all but snarls. “Are you crazy?”

“I’m sorry!” You gasp, clinging desperately to the loose material of his shirt. “My body... moved on its own.”

Jin has never really experienced heartbreak before. For a guy who spends a lot of time dating around, he’s always seemed to escape with his heart intact.

But the weak, confused tone to your voice might just do it. If he’d known that it hurt this much to get your heart broken, he might never have risked it before. Nothing can prepare him for the sheer agony of realising you’d thoughtlessly throw away your life in exchange for his own. That the reflex is so deeply ingrained in you that you didn’t hesitate to throw yourself in the path of an arrow for him.

“Jin!” Jungkook cries. “Jin, they’ve found us! We have to go!”

Jin doesn’t need to be told twice. He scrabbles to his feet, pausing to hoist your prone form over his shoulder in a fireman carry and then legging it as fast as he can, just as the sound of a Saishta hunting horn erupts in the shrubbery behind you.

There is no living creature in this realm that can catch up to a guardian that has decided to flee. Even a guardian like Jin. Especially a guardian like Jin, who has desperation and panic fuelling his desperate sprint. You scrabble at his shirt, trying to stabilise yourself, and he ignores the way he can feel blood soaking into his shirt from where you grab at him.

He doesn’t know how long he sprints mindlessly, desperately across the glittering fields of the Golden Plains, but right at the point where his lungs burn and he thinks he may collapse, he feels you tugging at his shirt.

“Over there!” You gasp, and he turns his head to follow where you point with your good arm. It’s a slightly raised hill, with some sort of abandoned burrow. There are various megafauna that inhabit the Golden Plains and live below ground- this must be one of those.

Jin quickly decides he’d much rather take on an angry giant rabbit than a troupe of highly trained Saishtas.

The burrow entrance is small, and he’s glad you have sharp eyes, for anyone else would have missed it. But after crawling through, although you have significantly more trouble with a blood arrow sprouting from your shoulder blade (Jin just ends up snapping the protruding shaft so that you can drag yourself through) it widens into an earthen alcove that’s just the right size for two guardians and a pixie to conceal themselves.

You collapse weakly on the earthen floor, pale and gasping for breath.

“Let me see.” Jin demands, when he’s gained his composure enough to examine the wound. He’s still embarrassingly out of breath, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever get his breath back. He helps you into a sitting position so that your back is to him.

You offer no protest to him blatantly ripping the damaged strap off your backpack so that he can tug it over your other arm and toss it aside. It’s probably a testament to how much pain you’re in- that backpack had been a gift from Taehyung, and you treasured it like he’d bought you a diamond or something.

The arrowhead doesn’t go deep, thankfully. The backpack strap provided enough padding to reduce the damage, and your shoulder blade prevented the arrowhead from piercing through into your thoracic cavity. But there’s significant muscle damage and if you were a human, you’d probably have lost all use of the arm. Blood streams from the wound and the material of your shirt is completely soaked. But the bleeding has mostly stopped, though your back is sticky with congealed blood.

You aren’t going to die. Though you are weak and crumpled and pale from blood loss, you’ll survive. Especially with the enhanced healing your guardian nature lends you- if Jin can remove the arrow and stop infection from setting in, you’ll be fine.

He feels the strength drain out of him at that thought. All that’s been keeping him going since the arrow hit him has been sheer terror. Now, with the space to breathe, he feels he doesn’t have the strength to hold himself up.

He drops his head against your uninjured shoulder, and he feels you stiffen but you don’t crumble under his weight.

“You’re such an idiot.” He says, but there’s no real malice in his voice- just a broken, exhausted tone he didn’t know he was capable of.

A sharp jabbing pain in his temple startles him into sitting back up. Jungkook has kicked him.

“Maybe you can save the exhausted lover boy act for after you’ve stopped her from bleeding out.” Jungkook points out drily, his arms folded across his tiny chest.

“It’s... not that bad.” You grit, turning to face Jin. You’re pale and sweat pools at your temple and forehead. The pained expression on your face is enough to kick Jin into gear. Jungkook’s right. He doesn’t have time to break down now. The Saishtas are hot on your heels and you need first aid. And it’s nothing but open plains out there and golden, waist high grass. There will be nowhere to hide or escape once you set out for the river. If the Saishtas come across you, it’s outrun them, or defeat them. Jin doubts the three of you could do either in your current states.

Jin swallows and reaches for the satchel with the medical kit the Psittanurans had gifted him with. He’s just blindly trusting that the substances they gave him actually do what they claim and aren’t just hopeful voodoo, but it’s not like he has a bag of IV fluids and a sterile surgical kit handy to stitch you up.

“I’m going to have to pull the arrow out.” He warns you, reaching for your torn bag strap. He balls it up in his hand and holds it up to your face.

“As much as it hurts, bite into this.” He tells you. “I don’t have any local and so this is going to hurt like hell.”

You look slightly uneasy, but nod your head, leaning forward to take the balled-up strap between your teeth.

Jin pulls out a small, dark vial which Ayla had told him was a coagulating liquid. Muscles bleed like hell and if the arrow has hit any vessels, you may pass out from blood loss. He swallows and braces himself. He can do this. He’s a doctor. He reaches deep into him and recalls the guy who worked in the ED and didn’t bat an eye at knife injuries or chainsaw accidents or that one drug addict with a prolapsed rectum.

“Ok, I’m going to do it now.” He warns you. He then plants one hand flat on your uninjured shoulder and grips the broken arrow shaft in the other.

“On the count of three.” He tells you, and you nod. Your fingers dig into the ground in anticipation.

“Three.” He says, and then he yanks the arrow.

Your answering scream is muffled by the bag strap, and you spit it out quickly as he empties the bottle of coagulant over the open wound, which is now filling up with fresh blood.

“That wasn’t on the count of three!” You shriek. Jin nods sheepishly.

“Ok. Well. There’s no use crying over the past.” He offers helpfully. He shoots a look at Jungkook. “Turn around. I’m taking her shirt off.”

Both you and Jungkook splutter.

“Why?” The two of you cry in eerie unison. You even turn fully to face Jin for good measure. He merely arches an eyebrow at you.

“I know you don’t have a degree in medicine or anything... but generally bandages don’t include your tattered shirt edges sticking to the wound.” Jin explains patiently. “(Y/N), it’s fine. I’m literally a doctor. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

It’s interesting that despite the blood loss, you can turn that particular shade of red.

“That doesn’t make it any better.” You mumble, even as you turn away and obediently unbutton your drenched shirt.

“It doesn’t have to be the whole shirt.” He murmurs comfortingly, pulling out a strip of material from the medical kit. Ayla had told him that it’s hard to get bandaging material to stay in place for silky Psittanuran feathers, so they often enchant materials with a special adhesive. “Just enough that your shirt isn’t sticking to it. I need to clean it up because the last thing we need is you getting an infection.”

You nod and drop your shirt enough to expose the left half of your upper back. Jin clears his throat awkwardly as he slides the thick strap of your sports bra out of the way and notes that it’s awfully warm in this little burrow.

“I didn’t know they made hello kitty sports bras.” Jungkook observes from where he’s hovering off to the side. You whip your head around to glare at him.

“Get OUT!” You snap. He holds his hands up.

“But you need me! What if Jin starts enjoying himself? You know how he feels about hello kitty-“ the empty coagulant vial being launched at him by your good arm is the only prompting Jungkook needs to go keep watch outside.

Which leaves you and Jin alone. The air feels thick and sluggish in the burrow as Jin works cleaning off the wound and applying the bandage. You’ve gone quiet- whether from exhaustion or pain, it’s hard to tell, but Jin has to help you tug your shirt back into place when he finally finishes.

He crawls over to your hello kitty bag and pulls out your water bottle.

“Why’d you do it?” He asks quietly as you take a long drink from your bottle. You don’t answer for a long time, but finally you drop the bottle.

“I told you. My body moved on its own.” You offer.

“Exactly. Why?” He asks, and he doesn’t mean for so much anger to leech into his tone. It’s just, he feels like the stress and fear and agony of the past week catching up to him and he doesn’t know how to deal with it other than being angry. Angry at you, for deciding to go on this journey in the first place. Angry at this realm for taking your father’s life. Angry at himself, for being pathetic enough to have to constantly be protected and saved by you.

But most of all, angry that your first instinct in danger is to disregard your own life in exchange for his own. He doesn’t even know what answer he’s looking for- that you love him? That it’s just instinct to save people? Neither answer would be particularly comforting.

“I don’t know.” You retort, and your tone is defensive in response to his barely concealed anger. “What do you want me to say, Jin? I heard the arrow coming and I didn’t exactly have time to think.”

“Exactly! That’s your problem!” He cries. “You never think! You only ever act! What would I have done, if your wound had been more serious? Have you ever once stopped to think about how that sort of thing affects me? How it feels to know you’re constantly doing things like fighting armed robbers and getting into fights and treating your life like it’s a piece of garbage to be thrown away without a thought?”

“That’s not what I-“ you protest, but Jin cuts you off.

“What if you had died? What if I had lost you? What would I be supposed to do?” He cries, and he surprises himself when his voice catches.

You go silent. Your words have been lost.

It actually reminds you of when Jin first caught you sneaking over to this realm. That fight seems like a lifetime ago, and he had scolded you for similar recklessness then. But strangely, it feels different. The look in Jin’s eyes is different. He’s... He’s not angry, you realise. He’s scared.

He flinches when the hand of your uninjured arm lands on his forearm. You watch him curiously, your movements cautious as though you are approaching a scared animal. He certainly feels like one.

Slowly, you slide your hand up his arm until you can hook your arm around the back of his neck and pull him into an awkward hug. It’s a little weird- you kind of have to awkwardly straddle him to properly hug him in the limited space, and he is still an unmoving like a wooden board.

“It’s the same for me.” You answer softly. “I can’t lose you. I’m sorry- I didn’t have time to stop and think but I’ll never stop and think when your life is in danger.” You pull away to meet his gaze. “I’ll always just act. You’ll just have to get used to that.”

Jin is silent, as he stares up at you. A weird feeling overcomes him, at your proximity. It’s warm and overwhelming. And, if he’s being honest, it scares him a little with the intensity of it. Like, if he were to pull you downwards and hold you tight, nothing would ever go wrong again. It’s not entirely unfamiliar, but at the same time he’s certain he’s never felt like this in his entire life.

“See I told you! It’s the hello kitty! He can’t resist!” Jin startles at the sound of Jungkook’s voice and you scramble off him like he’s burned you. He tries not to dwell on the fact that he instantly misses the warmth of your body. Suddenly the burrow feels too cold.

Jungkook tuts and shakes his head.

“See, good thing I came in here. Who knows what kind of stunt lover boy would have pulled?” He scolds. “Anyway, I think you’ve had enough time to recover. I guarantee you the Saishta’s are hunting for us as we speak and so we better get a move on.”

You nod, adjusting your clothes awkwardly and gathering your things.

Jin follows suit, almost robotically. He can’t shake the feeling that something huge just happened, but he doesn’t know what.

But his stomach churns because there’s one thing he knows for sure: He can’t lose you. He’s so, so afraid.

#jin x reader #kim seokjin x reader #castlebangtan #thebtswritersclub #seokjin x reader #writing

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long-cosmos-overhead · 5 years ago

Note

Hi there I love your writing!! Could you do a Jack sparrow headcannon where the reader and him break up but with some fluff at the end? Thank you 💙

Yeah sure

(I do not own potc or it’s characters)

The break up would probably be messy, heated and downright scary for anyone that could hear or see it go down you both yell and scream and toss things around in anger

It’s most likely due to Jack not wanting to lose you since it would kill him inside to know he was somewhat responsible should something happen to you or he would be afraid of the feelings he had grown for you he genuinely loved you so much and it scared him

Jack began pushing you away more and more until it felt like you were two strangers on the same ship and it really hurt you tried so much to make amends for whatever you did but no matter how hard you tried he always brushed you off. You didn’t get it

You confronted him on his behaviour and Jack not wanting to reveal how much he cared for you tried brushing it off again but you kept pressing until he snapped that’s when it all happened

He shouted you shouted and the deeper it got the more hurtful words came flying from both ends by the time the ordeal was coming to an end there were broken bottles, dented wood and bruised knuckles from taking out your anger on objects

Both of you especially Jack would rather die before laying a hand wrong on the other no one was hurt on account of the other

Jack knew he had gone well too far when you said ‘I’m leaving drop me off at the next port and never come back’ his blood ran cold and he swore he’d never felt his chest seize so painfully the one thing he never wanted to lose was walking away from him

He didn’t say anything just grabbed a bottle of rum and walked off back to what was your shared cabin

It was the coldest loneliest night he had ever spent in what was supposed to be the best part of the ship he took so much pride in

Jack would never admit it but this was exactly what he feared he missed you, he missed you so dreadfully and it was only one night he missed laying with you, having your head on his chest, the kisses he missed you being with him, for once he had no idea what to do

You cried a lot, that night you slept down with the crew some offered you pitiful smiles, others pretended nothing was wrong and a few set up a hammock for you but no matter how hard the crew tried they did feel some ounce of sympathy listening to you try and stifle your tears

Jack was definitely not going to drop you off on the next port instead he went back to his cabin and moped around for ages far exceeding his alcohol tolerance that night but even with all the rum in the world he couldn’t rid of the coldness that came when he tried to sleep

It sounds bad but if you want it to resolve you’ll have to be the one to invoke a response Jack is far too proud but most of all he doesn’t want to admit how he truly feels he doesn’t know what it would mean for both of you and it scares him

You’d be sat at the front of the ship looking over the the sea at night Jack had been watching you ever since you left and his compass had been spinning wildly until stopping on you every time

Jack would feel like he was playing with fire when he sat down a few feet apart from you and for a while no one said anything until you muttered “I want to stay.”

That’s when he finally mustered up the courage to move a little closer and even more courage when didn’t do anything to stop him, then he began to slowly tell you why he distanced himself

He told you how he was scared of losing you and his feeling for you were far far deeper than he thought and he wants nothing more than to be with you but he doesn’t know anything about having an actually relationship or why he’s feeling the way he is

At the start his words were jumbled and he sounded like a lost puppy but gradually the words began to flow and you learnt far more about how he really felt about you and it melted your heart

Your heart melted even more when he said “it was cold without you love.” And you turned to hug him Jack was needless to say taken by surprise but he couldn’t remember the last time you were in his arms and in return he hugged you back tighter

The night grew old and you had dozed off in his lap his fingers combed through your hair and his eyes didn’t want to leave your form. He knew now how lucky he was to have you

At some point he carried you back to his cabin placing you in bed resting on his chest with his arms snaked around your waist finally able to sleep without that awful cold feeling

In the morning you woke up and almost immediately Jacks lips were on yours giving you a kiss so gentle you almost felt as if you were still dreaming. He muttered a soft “forgive me” only to kiss you with much more passion and force when you told him he was already forgiven

#jack sparrow heacannon #jack sparrow fluff #jack sparrow x reader fluff #jack sparrow fluff imagine #jack sparrow angst #jack sparrow x reader #jack sparrow #potc #ask #request

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merakiaes · 6 years ago

Text

Back Together - John Shelby

Pairing: John Shelby x reader

Requested: Yes.

Prompts: None.

Warnings/notes: As requested, a part two to “Far Beyond Salvation” with a happy ending. Holy shit this turned out a lot longer than I expected. It’s not proof-read and it’s currently almost 4am so this is probably a mess, might go back and re-write it later. But for now, I hope it’s as good as it is long😂

Wordcount: 6060

Summary: The aftermath of finding John cheating. (Part two of “Far Beyond Salvation”, that you can find here.)

Three and a half weeks had passed since your falling out with John.

You had, like promised, come back to the house and packed your things early the next morning after Polly had given you the clear that the house was empty, and left for Hockley Heath where you had an apartment ready.

It was only half an hour a drive from Small Heath, so splitting the custody of your children didn’t come with too much struggle, coming to an agreement through Polly that you would take turns having the children.

Although, you were fairly certain that John hadn’t partaken in that decision at all because knowing him, he would have objected to anything you suggested out of pure stubbornness, like he had for all the years you’d known him.

Your children didn’t seem to mind the change, enjoying the change of scenery and taking a big liking to your new home. In reality, they were just happy they got to be with their mum.

They weren’t old enough to understand why you and John had split up the way you had, but they were smart enough to figure out that their father was a sore subject for their mother, therefor trying their hardest not to bring him up whenever they were staying with you.

John, however, did nothing to hide the way he was feeling regarding you, crying openly around the house everyday and answering your children honestly when they asked why he was upset, telling them that he fucked up and that missed you.

He hadn’t tried reaching out to you once, and you guessed that was because Polly and Tommy had kept their promises to keep your new address and phone number a secret.

You hadn’t told Arthur where you were moving because despite loving him like your own brother, you knew he had a tendency to talk about information that wasn’t his to share. And with the way he cared for his little brother so, you knew he was bound to break and give him what he wanted if put in that position.

And you couldn’t take that right now. You wouldn’t be able to talk to him, much less look at him, knowing that it would just break you heart all over again.

But no matter how much you tried to mend your shattered heart, things weren’t the same without him. You missed him dearly, the feeling bringing back memories from when he was away at war.

It made you nervous not to be by his side at all times, knowing that he had a knack of getting into trouble. Now, you weren’t there to help him control his recklessness, and God knows what kind of trouble that would get him into.

Polly and Tommy called to check in on you almost every day, purposely leaving out any details about John.

A part of you wanted to hear how he was doing; you wanted to hear if he missed you as much as you missed him. But the bigger part of you, the heartbroken one, couldn’t even bear hearing his name.

The first few days of your split had been the easiest, as anger had pushed most of the heartbreak to the back of your mind at the time.

You’d gone and gotten the divorce papers the second you had settled into your new apartment, filling your name and every other detail about yourself in.

But when the time came to send them to John, as the last thing needed was his signature, that anger had disappeared, and you couldn’t bring yourself to send them.

Instead, you found yourself staring hopelessly at the papers every night, silent tears running down your cheeks as you tried drowning your sorrow and heartbreak in alcohol; the one solution to one’s problems that you had always advised people to stay away from.

And look at you now, so pathetic that you weren’t even able to listen to your own advice.

You were sure that if it hadn’t been for the kids, and Polly checking in on you once or twice every week, you would have been your own downfall by now.

It was around six o’clock in the afternoon on a Wednesday when you were getting ready to go to Small Heath and collect the children from Polly’s house.

When still living back there with John, you would have been up with the children bright and early, feeding them their breakfast and walking them to school to make sure they got there safely.

But now, as you hadn’t gotten around to finding a job yet, you slept through the days until you had something to do. You just couldn’t bring yourself to get out of bed if you didn’t have anything to occupy your racing thoughts with.

Unlike the other days you’d been off to get the children, however, this day turned out quite differently, as no one other than Arthur Shelby was waiting on your doorstep, looking ready to knock on the door when you opened it.

How he’d gotten a hold of your address, you couldn’t quite figure out, as you doubted Polly or Tommy would give it to him, the two of them knowing just as well as you what a big mouth he had.

But nonetheless, you had to invite him inside as he’d already come all this way, inviting him into the kitchen and putting on some tea before stepping away to call and tell Polly you were going to be a little late, to which she promised she’d keep John away from her house for as long as she could.

You thanked her quickly, before going back into the kitchen, finding that Arthur had already helped himself to the tea and poured you a cup as well.

Arthur had wasted no time in starting to speak once you’d sat down, unlike Tommy and Polly, not staying clear from the subject of John, but rather heading right into it.

“He ain’t the same without you, (Y/N).” He spoke to a start, and you didn’t need to ask to know who he was talking about. “He doesn’t eat, he doesn’t talk. All he does is cry and yell, fighting anyone who even dares mention your name. You ‘ave to come home, love. You ‘ave to come home.”

The feelings you’d been trying so hard to push back these past few weeks suddenly came rushing back to the surface, the mention of your husband causing a painful tug at your heart.

But you could only shake your head, swallowing thickly and looking away from his eyes and into your tea.

“I don’t have to do anything.” You whispered. “This is all his doing, not mine. And now he’s dealing with the consequences of his own actions as he should be.”

You tried to sound as sure in yourself as you could, but in truth, you weren’t. You wanted nothing more than to just run back home into John’s arms, but you couldn’t.

“Some people don’t know what they have until it’s gone. He took you for granted, he knows it and he regrets it.”

You turned your head up at that, a glare coming to rest on your face as you swallowed again, desperately trying to keep back the tears.

“What about the ones who do know, then?” You asked. “The ones who never took a damn thing for granted? Who tried their hardest to hold on, yet could only look on helplessly while they lost the thing they loved most. Who do you reckon has it worse?”

Arthur opened his mouth to answer, but he wasn’t given enough time to get out a single word.

“He’s all that I see when I close my eyes. His pretty eyes, gorgeous lips, cheeky smile and contagious laugh. At first, I think back to when we were sixteen. I see him in a wide field of sunflowers, spinning and singing like a madman with the bottle of whiskey that we’d stolen from you in his hand. We had no problems back then. The only thing that mattered in the world was us.”

You chuckled dryly at the memory, shaking your head and blinking your eyes furiously to rid of the tears that were quickly building up, looking up into the ceiling as you continued.

“That was the night we lost our virginities to each other. It was the second best day of my life, that one, the first one being when we married. But then the vision changes, and all I can see is him with that other woman, in our bed. It’s like it’s etched into my brain. It never goes away. Everything I see and hear and do is a constant reminder of that day and it makes me feel sick, Arthur. It makes me want to throw my guts up. ”

Arthur, who had been listening intently to you the whole time, swallowed as the feeling of sadness filled his body to see you so broken. John wasn’t the only one out of the Shelbys who cared deeply for you. You were practically his little sister, and he hated what John had done to you. But at the same time, he hated seeing his little brother in that state, as well.

“We miss you, too.” He mumbled. “Not just John. Us Shelbys need to stick together, or we won’t be the Shelbys no more.”

You felt bad for being so blunt with him, knowing he’d come all this way just to try to fix things like the good man he was, but in that moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to be anything else.

“Well, I’m not really a Shelby, though, am I?”

Although you felt guilt consume your body from your words, Arthur only shook his head, answering without a doubt in his mind. “Yes, you are. And you always ‘ave been.”

Arthur didn’t stay much longer after that, having said what he came to say and knowing there was nothing more he could do now other than wait for you to hopefully take his words into consideration.

Unbeknownst to him, however, you’d taken them in the second he spoke them. You just tried to push back the truth; that you did, in fact, want to go back.

You waited for another half hour to make sure Arthur was out of your way completely, only then leaving the safety of your home and heading off towards Small Heath.

You could only hope now that Polly had been able to keep John away all this time so that you didn’t have to see him, knowing that he probably would have put up a fight just to be there when you got there so that he could try to plea with you to stay, just like he had when you left.

Luckily, though, as you entered the house and called out for Polly, only the sound of running footsteps and children’s laughter could be heard; not a man in sight.

“Mum!” Your children all yelled out with joy as they came barreling down the hallway, jumping into your arms before you’d even been able to bend down to their height, the sudden force catching you off guard and successfully taking you to the floor.

“Hello, my darlings.” You laughed, hugging them as best as you could with them all climbing onto your body in a not so graceful pile.

Your youngest, Samuel, climbed up to your face with a goofy smile, and despite your uncomfortable position on the wooden floor, you couldn’t do anything other than smile widely at the sight of you beautiful children, having missed them so much despite only having been away from them for a few days.

You grabbed ahold of the back of his head gently, pressing countless of kisses to his face with loud smooching noises, playing along with their enthusiasm.

The young boy instantly started giggling, and your other children, Katie, Laura and Philip, moved up to your face, too, eager to get the same playful treatment.

Polly came walking into the hallway, wiping her hands on a towel that she then used to smack the back of Philip’s back lightly, signaling for all of them to get off of you.

“Alright, you little monsters.” She chuckled, swatting them away. “Let your mother breath.”

“Sorry, aunt Poll.”

Katie, Philip and Laura scurried off of you, and you were instantly able to breath easier without three children shoving their knees and elbows into your abdomen and chest.

You let out a slight sound of struggle as you pushed yourself off the floor with Samuel still in your arms, the three-year old boy clutching onto you for dear life while sucking his thumb.

While his siblings were still very much energetic, the youngest Shelby was tired and seemed ready to sleep. He would, without a doubt, pass out the second you got back to your apartment.

Polly swatted at the three with the towel again, nodding for the kitchen. “Go get your things. It’s late, let’s not keep your mother waiting.”

As the they wasted no time in doing as told, running in the direction of the kitchen, pushing and shoving each other to get there first, Polly walked over to you, bending in and kissing your cheeks in hello, hugging you as good as she could with Samuel getting in the way.

She looked at you, smiling softly. “You alright, love? Arthur didn’t give you too much of a hard time, did he?”

You inwardly cringed as the conversation from the hour before came back into your head, but hurried to put on a smile, shaking your head. “No. Is’ alright, Polls. He meant well.”

“Still.” She shook her head, scoffing slightly while crossing her arms. “He should know better than to put his nose into a woman’s struggles. That he knows nothing about, at that. Finn was the one who let your address spill, remembering it since he came with me to visit you last week. He’s out at the Garrison with the rest of ‘em, but he wanted me to tell you he’s sorry.”

You smiled at the thought of the youngest of the Shelby brothers, adjusting Samuel on your hip slowly. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. He can’t be held responsible for anything that’s going on right now. It’s all on John and me.”

Polly could only scoff at that, a glare coming over her features. “None of this is your fault. At the end of the day, every trouble in this world comes down to the fault of men who can’t keep their cocks in their pants.”

Your smile faltered at her words, your whole body flinching almost as if you had been slapped in the face.

Polly instantly realized her mistake as she saw the look on your face and opened her mouth to apologize, but before she could, the children came running back into the hallway with their tiny bags in hand, dressed in their coats and hats and ready to leave.

No more words were shared between Polly and yourself, the two of you instead putting all the focus on the children, ushering them outside and getting them settled into the car that was waiting right were you left it.

You had just gotten Samuel situated between Laura and Katie, when Finn came running down the street, stopping in front of you and panting, leaning his hand on his knees for support.

Both you and Polly took in his state with confused eyes, but before you could ask, he panted out between breaths. “It’s John. He’s- He’s gotten into a fight again and it’s really bad this time. Arthur went to grab him and he shoved him into the bar, knocked him out cold.”

Your eyes instantly widened at his words, and only then did the loud sounds of crashing and yelling coming from the Garrison down the street reach your ears.

Sharing a look with Polly, you both knew that you were the only one who would be able to fix this.

“Go. I’ll take the children back into the house.” Polly hurried to do exactly what she said she would, the kids all asking what was going on as their mother ran off with their youngest uncle without as much as a doubt in her mind.

The closer you got to the pub, the louder the yelling and banging got, and now you could hear clearly that most of the voices were yelling your husband’s name.

Finn went in before you, rushing into the crowd of people and yelling out over the ruckus. “Get back! (Y/N)’s here!”

You instantly spotted John in the midst of the crowd, punching left and right, along with a few other men you didn’t recognize. Behind him, Tommy was yelling his name and repeatedly trying to pull him away, while Harry and a few other Blinders were over by the bar, tending to Arthur who was laid on the surface.

The people who knew who you were instantly started backing away when they heard your name, watching as you pushed yourself through the crowd with determined steps, your glaring eyes not once leaving the form of your husband.

Said man threw his arm out, aiming for another punch, but stopped right in his tracks when you called out.

“John! John, that’s enough!”

His head instantly whipped in your direction, one hand grasping at the collar of a man’s shirt and the other clenched in the air.

Right then, the entire pub grew quiet, everyone stepping back as quickly as they could when seeing the look in your eyes.

Tommy was finally able to pull his brother off of the man as he was now distracted, the man’s friends, who were also bruised and bloody, instantly hurrying to help him to the other side of the room.

“Thank the fucks…” You heard Arthur mutter from the bar, now awake and pressing a hand to his head in pain while trying to sit up with the help of Harry and Finn.

You wasted no time in marching up to John, taking note of the way his eyes were completely bloodshot and entirely out of it thanks to the large amount of alcohol he’d for sure consumed throughout the night.

Just for that moment, everything was back to the way it used to be, with you getting your insufferable husband out of fights, the heartbreak pushed to the back of your mind as you only had one thing on the agenda; get him home and clean his bleeding wounds.

“(Y/N)…” He mumbled once you reached him, toppling in his step slightly as he tried to meet you halfway. He fell into your arms, his neck landing in your neck and arms holding on to you for dear life, going from a violent mess to a soft mess in just a few seconds.

You stumbled slightly at the sudden addition of weight, only sighing as he started mumbling incoherent words into the skin of your neck, the wetness showing that he was now crying.

You gave Tommy a look over his shoulder, trying your best to keep him upright on your own but failing miserably.

“Help me get him back home, yeah?”

The man wasted no time, coming over to you and taking some of his weight, the two of you being able to exit the pub with the help of Finn opening the door, leaving Arthur and the rest behind to help Harry clean up.

Finn followed you all the way back to the Shelby residence, opening the front door for you. As your entrance was a rather clumsy one with the way John could now barely support his weight with the way he was crying, Polly and the kids instantly noticed your arrival.

You could hear the older woman yelling for Finn from one of the bedrooms, and the boy instantly took off, without a doubt to keep his nieces and nephews inside the room as Polly came out only a second later, taking only one look at John before scoffing.

“Oh, bloody hell. You boys are going to be the death of me.”

“Well, at least it wasn’t my fault this time, eh?” Tommy tried to joke it off, slightly out of breath.

But Polly only glared, hurrying to make way for you to the longue, where you set John down in one of the armchairs.

You and Polly left to get some alcohol for the cuts, along with a bowl of hot water and a sponge, no words shared as you prepared it.

Upon coming back to the room John was in, Tommy met you in the doorway, a cigarette now dangling from between his lips.

He gave you the smallest of smiles, nodding his head. “He’s sobered up a bit now. He’s been crying about you ever since you left so I think seeing you again gave him a bit of a shock. But he’s alright.”

You sighed, rubbing your hand over your face slowly before turning to grab the bottle and bowl from Polly’s hands. “Alright. Thank you, Tommy.”

Nodding, he reached out a hand to pat your shoulder, before brushing past you and taking his aunt with him, leaving you to enter the room by yourself.

The second you stepped inside, John’s eyes moved up from the fire to land on you, widening. He instantly moved to stand up, but you quickly shook your head, going over to him and setting the things down on the table next to him.

“Sit down.” You told him softly, and he did as you said, swallowing thickly and looking at you like you had just come back from the dead.

You pulled up a chair in front of him, all too aware of the way his eyes followed your every move.

You tried your best to push the resurfacing feelings to the back of your head, but when he was looking at you like he’d done when you first fell in love, it was really bloody hard to ignore.

Grabbing the sponge, you dipped it into the bowl of water carefully, wringing it out before turning to John, avoiding his eyes at every cost as you put the sponge to the biggest wound on his forehead.

He hissed at the feeling, visibly tensing and closing his eyes for a brief moment, but he soon got used to the stinging sensation and went right back to staring at you while you worked away at the cuts on his face.

Your heart was beating violently in your chest, and you could feel your whole body tingling at the proximity of the two of you, causing your hand to shake slightly as you moved on to another cut.

All this time you’d been apart, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the scene you had walked in on with him and the other woman. This was the sole reason you had been so adamant on avoiding him, fearing it might break your heart even further if you saw him.

But now that you were actually there with him, seated only inches apart with your hand brushing against his face ever so often, the image of him cheating was as good as gone, your mind instead being filled by an overwhelming amount of memories from your life together.

You thought about the first time you met, how small you had all been at that time. You still remembered the way the rock felt under your hands when you were pushed to the ground, the pain in your knuckles when your fist had met John’s face and the way your whole body bubbled with anger as he then proceeded to pull at your ribbons.

You remembered when you had gotten back to Small Heath after being gone for so long, seeing John for the first time in what seemed like forever. Even though you still despised him at the time, you recalled the way you had gotten all giddy inside when seeing how well he’d grown with the time.

You remembered your first kiss down by The Cut, when you had gotten caught in the moment, him on top of you after you’d fallen to the ground together.

You remembered telling your families about the new step in your relationship, how everyone had reacted like they were shocked even though both of you knew they’d known from the start.

You remembered the day you lost your virginities to each other under that big tree in the midst of the sunflowers, how clumsy and awkward it had been as both of you had been too drunk on Arthur’s whiskey to actually finish.

You remembered the day you found out you were pregnant, the day you got married, the day he came back from the war, and the countless of mornings you’d spent in bed with your kids, back when things had still been good.

You remembered everything, every single moment and memory coming back to you in that one single moment, and in some way, that was even worse than remembering John in bed with another woman.

Getting so caught up in your own thoughts, you barely even knew what you were doing anymore, your hand automatically moving the sponge over John’s cuts.

You were only pulled back to reality when he cleared his throat, your eyes for the first time moving to meet his right as he spoke.

“Where are you staying now?”

Your heart instantly skipped a beat at his deep, smooth voice, not noticing until then how much you’d truly missed it. It wasn’t confident as it usually was, instead soft as silk to your ears, a certain hesitation lingering in the tone of it.

Your eyes flickered away from his hurriedly, to focus on the bowl of water.

Following his example, you cleared your throat quietly. “Hockley Heath.”

John flinched under your touch at that, but whether it was from the sponge pressing down on his cut, or the mention of the town you had moved to, you didn’t know.

“I didn’t think you’d gone that far.” He mumbled, eyes falling down to the floor sadly.

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from breaking down into his arms right then and there, the vulnerable look on his face just breaking your heart further.

“It’s only half an hour from here.”

He tensed his jaw, not daring to look back up at you as a new set of tears started burning in his eyes. But despite the way he was trying to hide it, you knew him like you knew the back of your own hand, recognizing the signs of his tensed jaw, fisted hands and slightly trembling body immediately.

“The kids miss their mum.”

You tried to keep a straight face, reaching over to the bowl of water again to rinse the sponge of the blood. “I have them every other week. They see me just as much as they see you.”

“It’s not same when you’re not home, though, is it?”

You wanted to cry at the sound of the slight quiver in his voice, but bit it back.

“Hockley Heath is my home now.”

Never before in your life had you told such a bad lie, not even believing it yourself.

And neither did John, as he finally looked back up at you with a shake of his head. “No, it’s not.” He disagreed, red eyes now glassy with tears and his hand coming up to grasp at your wrist by his face. “Your home is with me, as mine is with you. Please, would you give me another chance?”

Your breath got caught in your throat at the feeling of his fingers against your skin. Your hand was shaking more than ever now, as was your breath, every movement just stilling as you tried to keep your composure.

You wanted to be one of those unphased people and tell him that he should have thought about that before he took another woman into your house, into your bed, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it, or anything else for that matter.

As you felt your walls being torn down more and more for each second passing in his presence, with his fingers holding onto your wrist softly and shooting tingles all the way up your arm, you knew that your brain was quickly losing its battle against your heart.

You had known this certain request would be coming, but now that it actually did, you weren’t ready, your whole body just screaming at you to give in.

You fought it, however, squeezing your eyes shut tightly to keep tears of your own from falling as you caught a glimpse of the tears now running down his cheeks. “Please, don’t.”

But he ignored your silent plea, instead moving in closer and pressing his forehead against yours. You wanted to want to tell him to stop, to step back, but you didn’t, you couldn’t.

“I just really fookin’ miss you, (Y/N).” He cried softly, your heart bleeding at the broken tone of his voice. “I miss you so fookin’ much. I don’t know how to live my life without you by my side. You’ve always been there, for me and the others, I don’t know how to act without you, it’s not the same.”

I know, you wanted to say. But you stayed quiet, just taking a shaky breath as the first tear finally escaped and rolled down your cheek, leaving a wet trail in its wake.

“Aunt Poll and Ada will barely even look at me, Arthur and Tommy give me shit every day. I know I deserve it but it fucking hurts, you know?” He gave a dry chuckle, his voice thick from the tears, “We’re not a family without you. If you could just give me one more chance, I’d spend every day for the rest of my life proving to you how sorry I am.”

You could hear nothing but sincerity in his voice, knowing very well that John rarely showed this kind of emotion and that when he did, it was purely honest.

But you could only shake your head as the heartbreak finally caught up with you, keeping your eyes closed to avoid looking at him as you sobbed, not being able to hold back your feelings anymore.

“I never did anything other than love you, support and be there for you.” You shook your head slightly. “I always put you first, no matter if I needed to take care of myself more. You always came first, because your happiness meant the world to me. And no matter how hard I just want to forget any of this ever happened, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive you, John.”

It was the truth. You honestly didn’t know if you would ever be able to see past this and act the same around him again. But what he had said about you being each other’s home was true, and you knew in your heart that you had been away from home for way too long.

John let out a small sound of pain as his crying intensified, his forehead pressing harder against yours and his body starting to shake slightly.

You tried your best to calm yourself, taking a few breaths before opening your eyes to find that he had now closed his as he cried. You cried with him, putting down the sponge and grabbing his face in your hands, not even bothering to dry them off.

He instantly reacted to your touch, leaning into your hand moving his hands up to your wrists.

“But I’m willing try.” You spoke finally, completing your previous sentence.

To this, he let out another small cry, but this time out of relief, his eyes slowly opening and giving you the most heart wrenching of looks.

“You mean you’re coming home?” He breathed heavily, eyes filled with doubt, fearing that he’d misunderstood the whole situation. But then you nodded, and his body instantly flushed with relief.

“I’m coming home.”

He let out a teary laugh, hands moving from your wrists to the sides of your face to pull you even closer, his eyes squeezing shut at the tears kept falling, but now out of happiness rather than sadness.

You kept crying with him, too caught up in the moment to find the control in yourself to stop. The two of you sat in silence for only a short moment, just basking in each other’s company and having a heart-felt moment.

When you opened your eyes again, the tears had stopped falling, but your faces were still wet and warm.

John looked at you desperately, breathing heavily and asking in a mere whisper. “Can I kiss you?”

You gave him a hesitant look, faltering for a moment. “John…”

“Please.” He hurried, closing his eyes again. “It’s been so long since I felt your touch and I know that it’s my own fault. I just… I need to feel you. Please.”

Your heart jerked in your chest. Your mind was telling you no, to not let in so easily, but your heart was telling you the opposite. You found yourself nodding only a second later. “Alright.”

Without opening his eyes, he stayed like that for a few seconds, with his forehead pressed to yours, thumbs caressing the wetness of your cheeks, as if he was memorizing the way you looked and felt.

And then he slowly brought you closer, and before you knew it, his lips were pressed to yours, so hesitant, soft and gentle that it felt like you were fifteen again, down by The Cut, sprawled out on the muddy ground together as you shared your first kiss.

From that day forward, John kept his promise, showing you each and every day how much he appreciated you and everything you did for him.

It started with the little things, never breaking his promises, not being late whenever you had something planned, always calling home to let you know if something came up at the Betting Shop.

He never lied, not even a single white lie leaving his lips for the rest of the future.

The first year, you fought a lot. You fought all the time. But the fights were never really about him staying late at work, getting too drunk at the Garrison or forgetting to change the bedsheets whenever one of the kids wet the bed. It was always about the cheating.

It came back to you when you least expected it, no matter how hard you tried not thinking about it, and he would beg for your forgiveness every time something like this went down.

Sorry might have worked when a mistake was made, but not when trust was broken. Forgiving was easy, but forgetting and trusting again was hard, and it took time.

Despite knowing how much he truly regretted it, you would sometimes fall back into that hole of betrayal and hurt and take it out on him.

But he was patient. He was always patient, all the way into the end. And in the end, you ended up getting over it completely, growing to trust John to the fullest once again.

After everything that had gone down, John Shelby never as much as looked at another woman again, if not her eyes when having a conversation. But even then, he would tell you afterwards how much he loved you, showing you every day, for the rest of your lives, how much you really meant to him.

Everyone had gotten what they wanted.

The Shelbys got their brother and sister-in-law back, happy and as in love as always, just the way they wanted them. The children got their parents back, as a team, together as one. John got you back, and you, you ended up getting back the man you had fallen in love with all those years ago.

You got him back the way he had been before the war and all the death, before the Peaky Blinders, and before everything else; the real John, the one who acted like the giant, cuddly teddy bear with an abnormally big mouth, figuratively speaking.

Just the way you loved him.

#john shelby #john shelby x reader #john shelby imagine #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby #finn shelby #arthur shelby #polly gray #michael gray

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jovialyouthmusic · 5 years ago

Text

Silver Service

The Court visits the Cormery Isles without Lady Olivia. Lucretia makes plans and Anton makes an unpleasant discovery.

Word Count 2964

A/N Apologies for the delay in posting. the chapter is short, but a lot happens. Warning - harm to a major character.

19 We move closer...

‘Excuse me your Grace’ James knocked on the door of Liam’s bedroom, where he was packing for the trip to Cormery.

‘What is it, James?’ He asked, and he entered, standing by the door in the stoic posture of the King’s Guard.

‘I thought you’d like to know Lady Olivia is returning from her meeting with Lucretia, Sir.’

‘Already? I thought she’d be longer. Do we know what entrance she’ll be using? I’d like to meet her straight away’ James pressed a finger to his earpiece, listening intently

‘Follow me sir’ he replied ‘I’ll take you there, her route is being monitored’

Liam was just in time to greet Olivia as she swept in the staff entrance at speed, but she wouldn’t stop. He ran to keep up with her as she made her way to her suite. She refused to speak until she got there, when she seized the nearest object – a heavy vase full of flowers. She picked it up and held it up to hurl it down on the ground, but Liam stopped her, catching hold of her hands and helping her to put it down safely. She pulled away from him abruptly

‘That old bitch’ she stormed ‘She knows’ She went to the desk and swept the papers off the desk. Liam followed her and caught at her wrists before she did any more damage.

‘Knows what, Livvy?’ he asked urgently ‘What does Lucretia know?’ Olivia’s eyes were full of fire and she glared at him for a moment before letting her arms go limp and dropping her head.

‘She knows I’m pregnant’ she said quietly ‘She worked it out, the witch’

‘Calm down Livvy. We can handle this’ Liam said soothingly ‘Take a deep breath’

‘How are we going to keep this quiet?’ She said ‘It’s too soon’

‘It’s okay, she’s under house arrest’ Liam reminded her ‘She has no means of contacting anyone outside the house, it will be fine’ He let her go, and she went over to lean on the desk.

‘We have to up our profile’ she said ‘I hate the idea of going to Cormery, but perhaps I should be seen with you’

‘I think we’re doing alright’ said Liam ‘I’ll make sure you’re mentioned in the press releases. I’ll get Sophia to work on a positive spin on your absence. You need to go home to recharge your batteries. If all goes well, we’ll have found a way to neutralise Anton’s claims, and then we can announce our intentions.’

‘And if he succeeds?’ Olivia said shortly

‘Then we go into exile. I’ll stay with you Livvy, whatever happens’

------

‘This has to be the dullest leg of the tour so far’ murmured Sophia to Riley ‘Standing around watching nobles hit a ball around a golf course isn’t my idea of fun’

‘Quiet please’ came the request from the referee. Yet another ball was hit, sailing off down the green, and the hushed crowd made appreciative noises. There was a low murmur as everyone moved off to the next vantage point, and the three of them trailed at the back of the crowd.

‘Tell me about it’ said Riley ‘Let’s go back to the clubhouse’ Drake snorted in reply ‘What?’ she said ‘At least they have a bar there’

‘You really think they’ll let riff raff like us in? he laughed drily ‘Dream on’ Riley sighed

‘Surely they’ll let us in, we’re official guests’

‘You can try’ grunted Drake ‘Even if they do, the prices are sky high’

‘In any case I think I’d rather drink from a hip flask in Bas’s SUV than traipse round after these blowhards’ she replied.

‘We can’t just cut out’ Sophia pointed out ‘If the press sees us…’

‘Excuse me, we’re not exactly newsworthy guests, all the attention is on the players, and the outfits all the noble ladies are wearing’ Drake pointed out.

‘I’ll ask Bas’ Sophia offered ‘He’ll have some sort of get out’ She tapped away on her phone.

This is dull as ditchwater. How can we bail out?

We?

Me, Riley, Drake

Grin and bear it

Will bribery work?

Don’t distract me

I’ll wear stockings for a week

Wicked woman

You love it

Leave it with me

‘What does Bas say?’ Riley hissed as they reached the hole

‘He’ll bail us out somehow’ At that moment, one of the guards tapped Sophia on the shoulder

‘Miss Turner, there’s an urgent message for you, come with me. You might want some company, I think it’s bad news’

‘Oh’ Sophia said, hand flying to her mouth ‘Riley had better come then’ She turned to Riley and grabbed at her hand. Drake looked alarmed

‘I’d better go with you’ he said ‘For support’ The three of them hurried away, a few of the audience casting a gaze over them as they went. Once they were out of sight of the crowd, the guard spoke.

‘Just for the record, Captain Lykel has asked me to escort you to the staff bar and has requested that you stay there until he contacts you at the end of the tournament. On no account are you to leave except for – and I quote – a life threatening emergency’

‘Anyone would think we were with Maxwell’ muttered Drake.

‘There’s a limited tab for you at the bar, and a buffet’ the guard told Sophia as they approached the clubhouse. ‘Two drinks each, and after that you pay for them yourself. Please be moderate with your quota’ He pressed his earpiece and nodded ‘The Captain says no expensive single malts or bottles of champagne. By the glass only’

Sophia crooked an eyebrow and glanced at Drake. He made a sour face as they reached the building, and the guard lead them to the unimposing bar reserved for staff at the club. A couple of chauffeurs and other aides sat at the tables set out, so Sophia chose somewhere to sit while Drake went to order. He had a whisky, and Sophia and Riley ordered white wine. The barman indicated a buffet table at the side of the room, and as soon as Drake had taken the drinks to the girls he took a plate and started to heap it up.

‘Steady on Drake, leave some for the Guard’ Riley scolded

‘Come on, this is proper food’ Drake complained ‘not the fiddly crab bruschetta and fishy crackers the nobles get’

‘Well I’m not really hungry’ Sophia declared ‘Knock yourself out’

‘Don’t worry Sir, we’ve actually got plenty to go round’ the barman assured him ‘We know the nobles just pick at the food, and the club manager usually adjusts the budget so that most of the allowance is for staff – there’s far more of them than there are nobles anyway. Just go easy on the sauce – a lot of staff don’t drink on duty, so that budget’s limited’ Drake nodded in appreciation

‘Thanks man’ He grinned, and reached into his back pocket, producing a hip flask ‘I always carry this on stuffy noble occasions anyway’

‘So what are your quarters like?’ Sophia asked. She and Bastien had been allocated the best of the staff quarters, and that wasn’t saying much. Lord Delacouer obviously thought luxuries like en suite facilities wasted on mere lackeys, and they had to share a bathroom with Lewis. Altogether, going to the Cormery Isles was like taking a step back a few decades in time. Riley made a face that told Sophia all she needed to know.

‘I think we picked the short straw’ she said ‘We asked for a double room and we got one – or rather, two beds pushed together and just enough room to walk round them. From what Drake tells me, our host doesn’t think much of commoners, so he really scraped the bottom of the barrel for us.’

‘I’m looking forward to moving on to Lythikos’ Sophia said ‘Of course I’ve been there before, but I think Olivia will be more accommodating than our last visit’

‘I’ll believe it when I see it’ said Drake darkly.

‘I’m just glad we won’t be seeing Lucretia’ Riley said with a shudder, obviously remembering the time Anton had kidnapped them and taken them to Lucretia’s stronghold.

‘I wonder what the old bitch is doing now’ Drake said ‘At least she’s somewhere she can’t do any harm’

-------

‘Good afternoon, your Grace’ Lucretia’s lawyer greeted the old woman as she entered her study. The Duchess sat at her desk, writing. She spoke without looking up.

‘I have some information that concerns both claimants to the crown, and I need your advice, Miss Bouvoir’ she said.

‘I’ll do what I can, your Grace’ the younger woman said smoothly, sitting even though she hadn’t been invited to. Lucretia looked up at last, her piercing gaze making her shift uncomfortably.

‘It have a strong conviction that my niece is pregnant’ she said ‘and as she has refused to meet her betrothed, I can only presume that the father of the child is none other than King Liam’

‘That’s an extremely controversial claim, your Grace’ the young lawyer said in shock. Lucretia sniffed.

‘It certainly is, and I’d like you to look into the implications should it be found to be true’

‘It depends whose claim is found to be true of course. If Anton’s claim is proved, Lady Olivia would be guilty of adultery and possible treason.’

‘Surely adultery is not relevant in today’s society’

‘Not where it involves a Royal heir, your Grace. If King Liam’s case is proved, it is possible that Lady Olivia’s child might be taken into Royal custody as heir to the Crown, but as she is a Nevrakis and has a claim to the throne should either Anton or Liam be incapacitated, it makes the whole matter even more complicated. The legalities of all three cases could be argued for years’

‘What would happen to the child if the King were to legitimately marry another woman, who would presumably be crowned Queen, and have another child?’

‘Again your Grace, the matter would be complicated, and more time would be spent arguing which child was the legitimate heir, but a child with both Nevrakis and Rys blood would have a very strong claim.’

‘Humour me please, Miss Bouvior. What if the child were found to be Lord Severus’s?’

‘I – still can’t say for certain. It would have to be decided in a court of Law’ Lucretia rolled her eyes upward and sighed heavily. She folded the paper she had been writing on and placed it in an envelope, writing a name on it with a flourish.

‘Thankyou Miss Bouvoir. I’d be obliged if you would hand this to my housekeeper in person’

‘You know I have to show any communications to the Guard to be vetted, your Grace.’

‘Of course, they’ll only find instructions on how she should continue to run my estate. I still have property that needs to be managed. It’s not sealed’

‘Very well your Grace, I’ll hand it over as soon as possible’

‘You may be gone a day or so to deliver it. I’d like you to return to me with her inevitable reply. Again, I’m sure the Guard will find nothing of concern. You may go’ Miss Bouvoir rose, reached over the desk to take the letter, and left the room to go and report to the guard at the door of the cottage.

------

‘So Lady Olivia declined the invitation to my event’ Neville Delacoeur sniffed haughtily ‘I’ve a mind to decline her invitation to Lythikos’ The golfing event over, all the guests milled around in the clubhouse lounge, picking at the lavish buffet and sipping champagne. He stood looking out over the greens, and Madeleine stood next to him.

‘I wouldn’t do that’ she said drily ‘I need all the help I can get exposing her as the King’s mistress’ Neville scowled

‘I presume if you expose her, you get closer to being Queen yourself’

‘And I’d be able to reward those who aid me’ she smiled

‘Lord Delacouer’ Madeleine turned smoothly at the King’s voice ‘Lady Madeleine’ he gave them both a little bow. Neville almost bent himself double with his own return bow, but Madeleine barely bobbed. ‘The greens are impressive, Neville – I hope you’ve managed to raise an acceptable amount for the Library in the capital’ The young Duke almost fell over himself bowing again to hear the King using his first name.

‘My secretary is calculating the figures right now, Your Majesty’

‘Please Neville, call me Liam. I well recall attending birthday parties in the Isles when we were younger, and I recollect that you visited the Palace on a few such occasions too. We’ve known each other a long time’

‘Indeed your – Liam’ he said obsequiously ‘I’m honoured that you remember’

‘I hope Lady Olivia is managing with the arrangements for the events in her home Duchy’ Madeleine cut in.

‘Yes, such a pity she couldn’t come’ Neville added ‘I had the suite next to yours prepared, just as you asked.’

‘Olivia likes things done properly’ Liam replied ‘I’m sure her staff are more than capable of taking care of things very well, but she feels personally responsible for everyone’s enjoyment of her events’

‘Admirable’ Madeleine said ‘As am I. It distressed me deeply that she demanded to move rooms at Karlingford’

‘I’m afraid that was rather my fault’ Liam replied ‘Something came up and I needed to be able to call on her at a moment’s notice. Her original suite was at the other end of the property’

‘Olivia’s a strong healthy woman’ Madeleine remarked ‘Surely she could have walked…’

‘Your Majesty!’ Neville’s father greeted Liam, leaning heavily on his cane. He was rarely seen at court and travelled even less frequently, relying on his son to take his place at official meetings. ‘I hope you enjoyed the greens. How unfortunate that Landon beat you by a whisker’ Liam turned to the older man.

‘Superb greens your grace’ he smiled ‘and the better man won – my golf skills were rather rusty’

‘You should come more often my boy, get some practice in. It’s a pleasure and an honour to have you here’

‘I fear matters of State may take up a lot more of my time now, your grace, but I’ll bear it in mind.’ He looked across the room ‘if you’ll excuse me, I must go and talk to Landon, eat a little humble pie’ He bowed to the group and turned away.

-------

Anton blinked himself awake in the enormous four poster bed. He had had strange dreams, one of which involved Olivia coming to visit him in the night, sitting on the edge of his bed. She refused to speak to him, and when he went to touch her, she melted away. He had been keeping up to date with the Charity tour, and knew that the Court had left Cormery and was making its way over the next day or so to Lythikos.

There was an envelope on the dressing table. It had not been there when he went to bed. He got out of bed, pulling on his dressing gown and going across to pick it up. The envelope was blank. He opened it, not noticing a faint cloud of dust that flew up into the air from the piece of paper inside. He opened it out, and discovered a single sentence written on the sheet.

Your wife is pregnant with the King’s child. Your attempt at the throne is futile.

His face changed as rage gripped him, but then he realised that his throat felt odd. It started as a tickle, and turned to a burning sensation. He looked at the piece of paper, only now noticing a slight line of white dust in the crease. He dropped it immediately and jumped away, screaming as an acrid smell drifted up to his nostrils. He ran to the door and wrenched it open, shouting out down the hall.

‘Help me – help! Poison! I’m being poisoned’ He clutched at his throat at the burning increased, and before the guard on duty could reach him, he had fallen to the floor, gasping for air.

------

‘How the hell did this happen?’ Bastien stormed. The King and the King’s Guard had returned to the Palace, now declared safe, and was stopping off in order to pack for Lythikos. Parker was accounting for the disaster at the safe house where Anton had been kept.

‘I don’t know, Sir’ Parker said, rigid with shame and dismay ‘We had the manor locked down tight. Everyone was vetted and observed.’

‘Let’s go over the facts again’ Bastien leaned back in his seat, steepling his fingers together. Lewis sat beside him, bleary from being roused from his sleep after a night shift.

‘Very well, Sir. At eight thirty today, Anton came out of his room in some distress shouting out that he’d been poisoned. He collapsed with severe swelling to his throat, and lost consciousness due to his airway being compromised. It was around five minutes before he received medical attention from one of our first aiders, who managed to establish an airway of sorts. The emergency services were called and they sent a helicopter within half an hour. He was airlifted to the hospital in the capital and remains on ventilation and is unconscious.’ He took a breath as Bastien looked at him intently

‘Go on, Parker’

‘On examining the room, a blank envelope was discovered on the floor along with a single sheet of paper. There was evidence of some powder inside which has been sent to our labs for examination.’ He paused ‘There’s something else, Sir’

‘Spit it out, man’

‘The paper had the crest of House Nevrakis printed at the top’

#silver service #sophia x bastien #drake x riley #liam x olivia #protect and serve #anton severus #lucretia nevrakis

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willespurplehoodie · 5 years ago

Text

seven minutes

“Is there a light we could turn on?” Jens mutters into the darkness. “I can barely see my hand let alone you.”

“I don’t think so,” Lucas says softly. “I tried to find one before we got pushed in here but there doesn’t seem to be a switch anywhere.”

“Hold on, I’ll use the flashlight on my phone.”

Jens pulls his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and types in his password, finding the flashlight icon and pressing it. He grins and sets his phone down on the floor in front of him. In the light he can see Lucas grin and adjust his position on the closet floor. “Better?” Jens asks. Lucas nods and leans his head against the wall behind him. Jens crosses his legs and shoves his hands into the pocket of his hoodie.

He looks around the closet they’re in. It’s definitely a tight squeeze, Jens can feel the toes of his shoes touching Lucas’s, but it is not as small as he thought it would be.

Somehow their friends had roped everyone into playing party games. They were at a house party somewhere in Antwerp when Kes had suggested they play spin the bottle. Immediately everyone objected to it, the majority of their friend group being in relationships, Robbe and Sander, Aaron and Amber, Kes and Isa and even Moyo had a thing blossoming with Noor. With spin the bottle out of the question, Jayden suggested truth or dare which is how Jens found himself in this particular situation.

The questions started off like any other. Weirdly sexual mixed with immature dares until Robbe asked Jens truth or dare and he mistakenly said truth. “If you had to do seven minutes in heaven with anyone at the party, who would you pick?” Robbe had asked him with a smirk. The latter knew about Jens’s small, miniscule, crush on Lucas ever since he moved to Antwerp for university four months prior. Jens had glared at him. He thought about saying Jana but things were still relatively fresh from their breakup over the summer and he didn’t want to risk actually getting locked in a closet with her.

So he said Lucas. Lucas had perked up at the mention of his name and looked around the group confused. “He said he would pick you to do seven minutes in heaven with,” Robbe exclaimed, leaning into Sander who wrapped an arm around Robbe’s waist. Lucas stuck his tongue out at Jens and Jens flipped him off.

“It's okay Jens,” Lucas said teasingly. “I would rather pick you over Jayden.” Jayden let out a cry and shoved Lucas’s shoulder. Lucas grinned and shrugged before turning back towards the group.

“There’s a closet over in the back. You guys should go since you both chose each other.” Sander chuckled into Robbe’s shoulder and nodded in Jens’s direction.

“Seriously Sander!” Jens exclaimed. The blond laughed.

Suddenly the whole group was agreeing with Robbe and Sander and the next thing Jens knew was he was being dragged to the closet with his friends and shoved inside, stumbling over Lucas.

That is where Jens finds himself. In a closet. Alone. With the boy he kinda, sort of, definitely has a crush on. He wasn’t blind. As soon as Jens saw Lucas on the first day of university in their shared literature class, he felt butterflies. Because holy crap, any doubt he had ever had about his sexuality was suddenly gone and replaced with the image of ocean blue eyes staring back at him. His blond curls that fell over his forehead, his eyes, his freckles that scattered his cheekbones… Lucas was the epitome of the boy next door.

And it made Jens’s insides turn to mush.

He looks at Lucas across from him in the closet. Lucas nudges his foot against Jens’s and Jens kicks him back with a smile.

It really wasn’t Jens’s intentions to fall for Lucas, but he couldn’t help it. Being around Lucas was easy, uncomplicated and in all honesty being around him made Jens feel good. Lucas reminded him of Robbe because of everything that went on with his mom and dad and he was just really fucking easy to talk to. They could talk about their fears and dreams, they could make fun of each other, they could banter, they could easily talk to each other about who was the better Mario Kart player. Jens didn’t realise he could get so close to a person in such a short amount of time but here he was, with an undeniably huge crush on Lucas and it was killing him.

“So,” Lucas starts, snapping jens out of his thoughts. “From what I’ve gathered, this game is either supposed to relieve the sexual tension between two people or make it worse.”

Jens laughs and shakes his head. “Oh really?”

“Totally.”

“You know we technically don’t have to do anything right?”

“I know,” Lucas says and looks down at their feet. “Our friends think differently however.”

Jens sighs. “Yeah, apparently.”

Lucas purses his lips and looks up at Jens through his lashes. “Did you actually mean it when you said you would pick me for this stupid game?”

“Of course, Luc,” Jens says, making eye contact. I would pick you over anyone in a heartbeat, he thought to himself. “Did you really mean it when you said you would pick me over Jayden?”

Lucas giggles, the tips of his ears flushing. “Duh, I’m pretty sure you’re aware of this, but you’re pretty easy on the eyes. Plus if I picked Jayden I’m pretty sure I would end up killing him halfway through this instead of actually doing anything.”

Jens smiles and Lucas ducks his head down again. Jens clears his throat and looks around at the closet. There were a few shelves above them, leaving them barely enough room to stand. It looked like there were shoes, some old sports equipment and a variety of clothes that smelled like they needed to be cleaned three years ago. There was an old basketball in the corner collecting dust, but other than that, the closet was pretty bare bones. Well except for the gorgeous boy in front of him. That was very nice.

Jens looks back at Lucas and is met with the blue eyes he has grown to love. Lucas gives him a small smile before clearing his throat.

“Jens?”

“Yeah?”

“Hypothetically, would you want to do anything while we’re in here?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I kissed you, would you be okay with that?”

Jens felt his breath get caught in his throat. His eyes widen as he looks over at the other boy. Lucas blushes furiously and looks away before Jens can speak.

“Its okay if you don’t want to, I probably just misread the vibe in here and made it super awk-”

“You want to kiss me?” Jens cuts Lucas off. They meet each other's eyes again. Jens feels his heartbeat pick up. Lucas wants to kiss him? What does this mean? Does he like him back, does he feel the same electricity when they’re near each other, does he want something other than friendship?

“I mean, yeah.” Lucas plays with his hands.

“Really?”

“You know what? Forget I said anything I don’t want to make myself look stu-”

“Luc!” Jens cuts him off again and crawls over to him, sitting closer so that they are facing each other closely. “I want to kiss you too.” It was finally out in the open, now was not the time to turn back. Jens took another breath. “I’ve had the biggest crush on you these last few months but I didn’t want to say anything in case it would mess up our friendship.” He puts his hand on Lucas’s knee. “But seriously, I have wanted to kiss you for so fucking long.”

Lucas laughs, a pretty blush spreads over his cheekbones. He puts his hand over Jens’s. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, really.”

“I’ve had the biggest crush on you too, I mean, if that wasn;t clear by what I said about wanting to kiss you and stuff.” Lucas says softly. He intertwines their fingers together and lets out a breath of relief when their hands interlock. “I really like you. So much that it’s kinda scary.”

“I feel that,” Jens gets out. “I really don’t want to screw anything up with you.”

“I don’t want to screw anything up with you too.”

“Can I kiss you now?”

“Yes please.”

Jens nudges their foreheads together and rubs his nose against Lucas’s. He closes his eyes and lets himself breath for a second. Slowly, he turns his face and slots their lips together. Lucas lets out a sigh and kisses him back slowly, moving one hand to cup Jens’s jaw, angling their lips together.

Lucas’s lips are soft, plush against Jens’s and it feels so fucking right. Jens moves his lips against Lucas’s and feels the swarm of butterflies in his stomach return. This time, he doesn’t feel nervous. He just feels their lips moving against each other, and he smiles into the kiss. He can feel Lucas smile back and takes the opportunity to push his lips open. Lucas makes a soft noise and Jens runs his tongue over Lucas’s bottom lip. He feels their tongues slide together and deepens the kiss further.

It’s warm and wet and all kinds of good that Jens can feel his toes curling at the sensations. He pushes into the kiss harder, making his desperation and feelings known. Lucas meets him in the middle. Jens moves his hand to Lucas’s waist and tries to pull him closer, which is proven difficult since they’re sitting cross legged infront of each other in the fucking closet. Lucas pulls away first and grins. He starts to move from his position and nudges Jens so that he’s pressed against the wall behind him. Jens makes a confused noise.

“Luc?” He questions but his voice gets caught in his throat when Lucas moves so that he is practically in Jens’s lap, legs straddling him on either side. Lucas cups his neck and smashes their lips together again. Jens automatically moves his hands to Lucas’s waist and tugs him closer.

This kiss is more urgent than their first one. It’s all kinds of intense and a flurry of teeth and tongues as the two try and pour their emotions into it. Jens lets out a groan as Lucas’s tongue flicks around in his mouth and he is suddenly so grateful that they’re sitting because he thinks his legs would give out if they were standing. He arms clammer up Lucas’s back in an attempt to bring him closer, closer, closer.

Lucas pulls away again and turns Jens’s face to look at him. Their lips are red and swollen. Jens looks far away, as if kissing Lucas pulled his world out from under his feet. Licas takes the opportunity to lean down and place a sloppy, open mouthed kiss behind Jens’s ear. He feels the boy beneath him gasp at the sensation and lightly grazes his teeth against the skin before nipping gently and soothing the mark with a swipe of his tongue.

“Luc.”

Jens’s eyes are closed and he sounds so gone for this boy that Lucas learns back into his neck and continues his trail of sloppy kisses, occasionally biting to leave small marks as if to say, you’re mine. He moves from behind his ear, to the side of his neck, grazing down the juncture between his neck and shoulder, to across his collarbone, pulling down his hoodie. Jens’s hands push and pull and his waist and back trying to pull Lucas impossibly closer. He feels drunk on the sensation of Lucas’s lips against his burning skin. He feels electric, on fire, tingling in all the right ways until he mistakenly rolls his hips up to meet Lucas’s.

Lucas moans and drops his head against Jen’s shoulder, pressing down into the movement. He feels Jens stiffen beneath him and moves to look at him.

“Sorry I just - you feel good and - I - I” Jens stammers.

Lucas shushes him by meeting his lips in a bruising kiss. “Don’t stop,” he gasps into their mouths. Lucas presses down again and rolls their hips together electing a moan out of both of them. Jens leans down and presses open mouthed kisses along Lucas’s collarbone and Lucas hesitantly begins making small thrusting movements with his hips. Jens rolls his hips up to meet Lucas’s thrusts and he gasps because it feels so impossibly good. They officially crossed the line between friends and maybe more than friends, Jens thinks to himself as he and Lucas move together, building a rhythm and breathing heavily into each other's mouths.

Their movements speed up and Jens can feel heat pooling in his stomach. He desperately grabs at Lucas and kisses him and kisses him, feeling himself get hotter with each touch. Lucas begins moving his hips in earnest, making small little gasping noises that sounds like fucking music to Jens’s ears -

A knock on the closet door causes them to abruptly halt.

“You guys okay? You’ve been in there for like twenty minutes…” Robbe’s voice floats through the door. Lucas huffs out a laugh and his head flops onto Jens’s shoulder, his shoulders shaking. Jens rolls his eyes and lets out a giggle as his hand moves to gently stroke the smaller boy’s back.

“We’re good!” Jens calls out. Lucas muffles laughs into his shoulder.

“Are you guys planning on coming out of there anytime soon?” Robbe continues, “because we were gonna get some more drinks and stuff.”

“Yeah we’ll be out in a sec!” Jens can hear Robbe yelling back towards the group, the music thumping behind the closet door. Jens and Lucas look at each other before bursting out into laughter at their current position.

Jens moves his hands to cup Lucas’s face and bring their lips together softly. They spend a minute lazily making out until they hear the unmistakable noise of a bottle breaking on the floor outside. “We should probably go back out there,” Lucas smirks.

“Yeah,” Jens agrees. “Are we okay?” He asks quietly. “Because I don’t want this to be a one time thing.”

“Neither do I.” Lucas murmurs. His presses a soft, barely there kiss against Jens’s mouth and smiles. Jens’s heart fills with warmth as he pulls away and hugs Lucas, his Lucas, close to his chest.

“Okay, good.”

#wtfock fic #wtfock #vds fic #vds

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citrinekay · 5 years ago

Note

a prompt: holden's thinking of running a marathon or something, and it gets bill thinking about just how young holden is and some insecurities appear. what's their future like? wouldn't holden be better off with someone who could actually match his rhythm? sorry im just a sucker for some age gap h/c!

Hey don’t apologize! I live to serve and create the content this fandom wants and deserves - it also helps that this turned out really cute and sweet and I like it very very much. Thanks for the prompt! 💕

Golden pink sunset stretches across the sky, making the red rubber of the track glow a burnt orange, the grass a glistening, knife-edged green. The summer heat has slacked off into a comfortable warmth that’s accompanied by the slight breeze that cools that faint sweat on Bill’s brow.

He glances down at the stopwatch as Holden emerges from the glowing haze of sunlight, running at a steady clip around the final curve of the track before he reaches the starting point again. Dressed in track shorts and a gray Academy sweatshirt, he’s sweating harder in the July heat than Bill’s stationary position could ever hope to achieve.

Bill squints against the sunlight, once again baffled by how much Holden enjoys this activity. Wendy had first suggested some type of exercise to him to help deal with his anxiety, and Holden had taken to the task like a fish to water. For the first few months, he would come out where to the Academy track to run for his own enjoyment, but now that he considers himself an accomplished runner, he’s taken to training for a marathon at the end of the month. The preparation is taking up a lot of time, much more than Bill had expected; and his only recourse to steal as much private time with Holden as possible is to park his ass here beside the track with the stopwatch.

As Holden drops down out of his run into a jog, and finally to a staggered halt, Bill jabs the timer on the stopwatch.

“How long as was that?” Holden asks, his voice hoarse and fractured.

“Seven minutes, twenty-five seconds.”

“Shit.” Holden whispers, leaning forward to clutch his knees.

“You’re unsatisfied with running a mile in seven minutes?” Bill asks, incredulously.

“And twenty-five seconds.”

“I thought a marathon was about endurance not speed.”

“It is. It’s a personal goal.”

Bill leans over to grab the water bottle from the grass, and tosses it to Holden.

Catching it against his chest, Holden straightens and takes a stumbled step backwards as he lifts the bottle to his mouth.

Bill watches him quietly, half-appreciating the sweat drenched ringlets plastered to his forehead and the way his throat glistens in the fading sunlight.

“Well, I know one thing for sure. You’d leave me in the dust.” Bill says.

Holden drags the bottle away from his mouth, leaving his lips slickly pink. He swipes a hand across his dribbling chin, and saunters closer to where Bill is seated on the folding chair in the grass.

“You could join me, you know.” He says.

“Running?”

“Yeah. Anyone can do it.”

“What? So I can get out there and humiliate myself? It wouldn’t be pretty.”

“Well, no one starts out an expert.”

“Holden, we practically live together.” Bill says, gesturing to himself. “You are fully aware of what I can and cannot do.”

Holden rolls his eyes. “Oh, Christ. Is this about the other night when I wanted round two and you weren’t up for it?”

Bill scowls, “Okay, you didn’t have to drag that into it.”

“You were about to.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Fine.” Holden says, capping the water bottle, and tossing it in the grass. “I’m going to do one more lap around the track to cool off and then we can go.”

“You want me to time that, too?”

Holden casts him a snide glance before spinning around and taking off toward the track again at a steady jog.

Bill frowns watching him sprint into the melted glow of the sunset, his body shimmering like some moving work of art beneath the colors of the sky. It’s easy to forget that he’s going to be thirty-two in a few months, technically middle-aged, when he’s so virile and energetic. It’s like he has a bottomless well of initiative and drive, and his body … Well, Bill has been witness to all of the things his beautiful, toned, young body can do and endure. Running a seven minute mile is just the tip of the iceberg.

Bill tries to set aside his insecurities as Holden circles the far end of the track and starts back towards the finishing line. He isn’t self-absorbed. He cares about his appearance insofar as it pertains to personal hygiene and professionalism. His current job doesn’t require extreme physical feats like running a seven minute mile or even running at all so why should it matter? Holden has his own personal goals and hobbies that he doesn’t necessarily have to share. It shouldn’t matter, but he knows why it does.

When Holden comes off the track again, Bill hands him the towel to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“Ready to go home?”

“Yeah.”

Bill gathers their things, and leads them across the yard, through the student parking, and all the way back to their lot in front of the BSU building. The walk is long and silent, some disagreement rippling underneath that he doesn’t feel like addressing. Once they reach the car, Bill rolls down the windows, turns on the stereo, and lights a cigarette. Holden leans toward the breeze, the sweet tang of perspiration blustering in the air alongside the summer breeze. Bill figures they’ll both just let it go, but ten minutes into the drive, Holden turns back to Bill.

“Is something the matter with you?”

“What? No.”

Holden’s hands fidget in his lap. “I can tell when you’re pissed. Why don’t you just say it?”

“Holden, I’m beat. It’s almost eight and we’re just now going home after working for ten hours and-”

“Oh, is that why? Because I’m forcing you to stay out late?”

“You’re not forcing me.”

“I told you that you didn’t have to come. I can work a stopwatch on my own.”

“Yeah? Then what do you need me for?”

The hasty retort slashes coldly through the humid air, leaving them both simmering in choked silence for a long moment. Bill flicks cigarette ashes out the window, annoyed with himself. There’s no basis for this argument, but they’re having it anyway.

“I don’t know what your fucking problem is.” Holden mutters, “Are you just mad that I have an interest that doesn’t involve you?”

“No, of course not. You’re allowed to have your own hobbies-”

“Oh, you’re allowing me to have this hobby. How generous of you.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it.”

They fall into silence again, but Bill can sense the electric hum of anger and the threat of hurt feelings arising.

Just fucking apologize. He tells himself, trying to tamp down the bubbling insecurities that seem to multiply with every exchange. But his jaw stays stubbornly clamped shut.

The next ten minutes pass in stifled silence until they reach Bill’s house. Holden’s car is parked in the driveway where he had left it over the weekend when a sleepover turned into a five-night affair. Bill figures that little foray is about to end right here.

He throws the car into park, but lets the engine idle as they sit quietly, stewing.

“Okay.” Holden says, finally. “I’m sorry I brought up the other night - the round two thing. That was uncalled for.”

“It isn’t that.”

“Really?” Holden asks, his gaze swinging across the car to strike Bill with withering severity.

Bill takes a slow drag of his cigarette and focuses on the yard darkening in the impending dusk.

“Bill, I have never had an issue with your age and my age, and-”

“Please, just stop.” Bill says, holding up a hand. The humiliation is already curling up his chest in fiery fingers, clutching at the back of his throat with debilitating force. The fact that he can’t suppress it is just as bad as the initial flinch of insecurity.

“Fine. You don’t want to talk to me?” Holden says, impatiently. He unlatches the door and shoves it open with his shoulder. “I think I’m just gonna go home, and you can call me when you get your head out of your ass.”

Bill flinches as the door slams shut behind him, jarring the entire vehicle. He watches with a sickening feeling dropping to the pit of his stomach as Holden storms around the hood of the car towards his own vehicle.

Get out and stop him, you stupid fucking idiot.

Growling a sound of frustration, Bill rips off his seatbelt, and climbs out of the car just as Holden reaches the hood of his Nova.

“Wait.”

Holden’s determined pace cuts to a halt. They stare at one another in the falling dusk, a quiet standoff that Bill knows Holden won’t be breaking; he’s waiting for Bill to speak and be honest.

Drawing in a deep breath, Bill puts his head down, and closes the space between them in a few strides. Holden turns slowly to face him, not resisting as Bill catches him by the hand.

“I’m sorry.” Bill says, quietly.

Holden nods. Still waiting.

“Come on.” Bill says, scoffing against the clutch of emotion in the back of his throat. “Don’t tell me you never think about it.”

“I mean, yes. Objectively, I’ve thought about it because it’s a basic, indisputable fact.” Holden says, “I said I don’t have an issue with it.”

“Look, these past few months have been great.” Bill says, “But I think it would be a little selfish of me to not encourage you to think about your future. What do the next ten years look like? Don’t you want someone who can keep up with you? And are you going to be happy with this decision when our age difference really does start catching up with us?”

Holden’s brow furrows. “That’s a little pessimistic, don’t you think?”

“I’m just trying to be honest.”

Holden glances away for a moment, his eyes squinting against the fading light. Bill can tell that he’s seriously considering the conversation, and that acknowledgement alone eases some of the tightness in his chest.

“You want honesty?” Holden says, his voice softening as he shifts his gaze gently back to Bill’s.

“Yeah. Always.”

“Fine. Then this is the truth - I don’t care about our age difference, or round two. Some days I don’t even care about round one. That’s not what this is about, and it’s a little reductive to say that it is.”

Bill lets out a sigh and glances away, but Holden presses closer, cradling Bill’s chin in his hand to guide his eyes back up.

“I know what the next ten years look like.” Holden murmurs, “Maybe not exactly, but I do know one thing - you’re here, with me. Whether you are running down a track with me or I’m pushing you a fucking wheelchair.”

Bill chokes on an unbidden laugh as Holden’s mouth stretches into a fond smile. He wraps both arms around Holden’s waist, suddenly not caring whether someone driving down the street could see the intimate embrace. He just wants to make this moment last - the moment when Holden melted the last of his fears and insecurities.

“Okay?” Holden whispers, clutching his cheek tighter. “I don’t want someone else. I want you.”

Bill nods, trying to find a reply in the tangled knot of relief and joy in the back of his throat.

Holden kisses him quickly on the mouth, a swift, reassuring gesture that the whole street might have seen, before he wraps his arms around Bill’s neck.

Bill buries his face in Holden’s neck, impressing the warmth of his body and his embrace down into his quivering soul. When he draws in a deep breath, he can smell summertime and sweat on his skin.

Clearing his throat, Bill draws back. “Do you, uh … do you want to get a shower first, before you leave?”

Holden chuckles softly. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

“Okay, let’s go in. It’s really warm out here.” Bill says, wiping sweat from his own temple.

Holden clutches his hand as they climb the steps to the front porch. As they reach the door, he whispers, “Bill?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t really want to leave.”

Bill purses back a smile. “No?”

“No. Can I spend the night again… and possibly use your washer and dryer for my work clothes?”

“Of course.”

They share a quiet smile before Bill unlocks the door and lets them inside. Holden’s fingers curl tighter around his hand, drawing Bill down the hallway towards the bathroom without another word. They move quietly, deftly through the house, muted anticipation rising. The sun has already set, golden light touching the door for the last time tonight.

#bill x holden #mindhunter #my writing #Anonymous

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skyflicker · 5 years ago

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polaris (amasai week day four)

hello :DDD i want to say that i succeeded in writing fluff, but, uh, it’s kinda a little more hurt/comfort than i intended it to be so.... anyways, here’s day four of @amasaiweek2020 hosted by @storyflight and @toxicisnotapineapple and the prompt was stars/late and i chose stars!

Starlight slants down the poles of the small yacht, sliding off the tall billowing ivory sails and almost seems to fall into the sea. The small sparkly lamps adorn the sky, splashes of iridescent silver among miles and miles of open canvas of velvety sapphire, and they shimmer, ever so lightly, ethereal and ghost-like, on the calm surface of the mirror-like ocean that occasionally lets ripples swirl over it, seemingly reflecting the serenity in Shuichi’s heart.

There isn’t a single sight of land for miles, only sea and sky for as long as one could see. There’s a thin layer of mist coating the water surface, constantly attempting to touch and let its frost spread over the sea, hovering and spinning and twirling in its graceful dance as it blurs the line between object and reflection, never stopping once in its euphoric pirouettes. Shuichi feels his heart leap and twirl along with the mist, the butterflies in his stomach joining in on this erratic gyration, as he watches the performance the mist gives. It’s as if a gossamer veil of snow hangs over the sea, letting the starlight trickle through to create small shimmery sparks fading in and out of the fog shrouding the waters. He can’t help but sigh in astonishment at the scene before him, the scene that seems so unreal, so otherworldly, that it might as well be a hyperrealistic painting, an artist’s portrayal of their wonderland.

Shuichi’s never seen this many stars at once before this trip. It isn’t all that surprising, considering he lives in Tokyo- Tokyo with its roaring speakers and chatter all day long, its countless neon signs and streetlamps that light up the night, loud, bright, exuberant Tokyo- but there’s something about the night sky that even though he’s seen it every night for three weeks, it still manages to render him speechless, to leave him in complete awe every time. In Japan, back at home, the most he can see from his balcony through the thick charcoal fog that coats the city permanently is a star or two spluttering weakly as it coughs and chokes on the immense light pollution. But here, standing at the stern of the boat, everything is laid out, in the widest canvas he’s ever seen. It’s all so clear, so bright, and so perfect.

Perfect, because he isn’t alone on this trip. Perfect, because he has his best friend along with him to guide his way. He spins around to look back at the ship, where, up on the balcony of the small second floor, where Rantaro is pulling at the ropes of the sails (the yacht has an engine, but they prefer not to use it, and they don’t need to anyway with the strong winds here) which almost seem to fly in his hands. He handles them with ease and familiarity, as if he knows every single inch of the bonds pulling at the fluttering triangular fabric, knows every knot and all the spaces he should control with.

The green-haired boy notices him staring up, and smiles at him. Shuichi’s heart melts at the sight of his smile- it’s so warm and soothing, reminding him of sweet sunshine that engulfed him in a tight embrace on summer afternoons, sipping warm coffee in their local cozy coffee shop with the soft sunlight gently streaming from the window and shining over him and his best friend. It’s such a contrast to the wind, the harsh, cold, unforgiving wind that pierced at Shuichi’s back with a thousand deadly cold ice-rimmed daggers, that chilled him to the bone and sent shivers down his spine.

Shuichi takes one last look at the stern of the yacht, and makes his way to the staircase that leads to the second floor. The yacht isn’t exactly big, but it’s obviously well loved, and expensive (not that that was surprising in the least- Rantaro’s family is extremely rich, after all). It’s an off-white, and designed in a minimalistic way, with a room below deck containing exactly thirteen beds in total (Rantaro doesn’t go down there, never even shows Shuichi around that floor or opens the trapdoor that leads downstairs, which is completely understandable), soft alabaster coloured cushioned chairs littered all around the starboard (Shuichi counts exactly fifteen; he doesn’t ask about it, though. He has enough tact to know that Rantaro doesn’t like to think about it), a lavish master bedroom which they sleep in, and a second floor above the master bedroom that holds a sofa and a coffee table, and a balcony on either side to control the sails.

He’s greeted with the smell of vodka when he enters the second floor. Rantaro’s sitting on the wooden floorboards on the other side of the balcony (that is, the side without the sails and ropes), gazing out at the scenery around them, a couple of small bottles of said alcohol lying around him, two or three emptied and rolling around the ground. Shuichi calls his name, and he turns, smiling at Shuichi.

Rantaro leans on him once he sits down beside the boy, and Shuichi immediately reddens and prays that Rantaro can’t hear his heart racing at a million miles an hour. He can smell the vodka on the other’s breath, and he says “You know you’re not supposed to drink, right? You’re way underage.”

The boy pouts. “I’m fifteen!” he protests, his words slurring together ever so slightly. Shuichi laughs, trying to ignore how lightheaded and nervous he feels, as his best friend grabs onto his arm, and there’s barely any space between the two. He can feel his cheeks turning a rosy colour, his heart racing wildly, threatening to pump out of his body. Rantaro’s just so adorable when he’s drunk.

“The legal drinking age where we are is twenty,” Shuichi reminds the younger boy, who pouts again and nuzzles against Shuichi. He freezes in shock and anxiety takes over him completely for a second, what is happening why is he doing this ohmygoshwhatisgoingon- then he tries his best to soothe his nervousness, prevent his face from blushing even more (if that was even possible, that is- Shuichi can’t see himself, but he’s pretty certain he’s as red as a tomato right now), and shyly wraps his arm around the other boy.

They sit in the silence for a while, just enjoying each other’s company, and Shuichi feels so relaxed as he leans against Rantaro’s head (which is still on his shoulder) and they gaze up at the sky, at the countless stars spread over. Shuichi feels so small, so insignificant, as he looks at the Milky Way, at the wide galaxy that he is but a tiny part of. Expendable, to most of the world. The thought makes him slightly sad, but he can’t find it in himself to feel actually sad, not with his crush right there beside him, not with the tranquility the world is offering him right now.

He likes the quiet, cherishes every bit of it. His friends, lovely as they all are, are a loud and rambunctious bunch when they’re together, and he enjoys himself immensely when he’s with them- it takes his worries off his mind when their energy and cheerfulness surround him and cheer him up so effortlessly, helps him relax when he’s tense and tired- but he also enjoys the solitude, enjoys the calm and relishes the silence, the silence that helps him think and lets him live in a world inside his mind where everything is perfect and peaceful and right. It’s also why he likes being alone, it’s not as overwhelming as being around a lot of loud spirited people, and he can have his own space and his own thoughts, have a place where he can slow down a little in the hectic daily life of living in Tokyo, but he also loves having company and a shoulder to lean on when he’s thinking.

Rantaro’s often the person he shares such precious moments of serenity with, being someone who also loves the quiet, and he feels comfortable with his best friend- there’s just something special about sharing these pockets of breathing space with him, there’s just, this connection between the when they do, one that allows a small insight into the other’s brain, allows Shuichi to know what Rantaro is thinking and vice versa. It’s comfortable, and relieving, having someone to share in his joy and pain.

“The stars are really pretty,” he says softly.

Rantaro smiles. “Do you know any of the constellations?”

Shuichi shakes his head, “I was raised in the city, remember?” he lets a vague shadow of a smile slip on his face.

His best friend leans back, until he’s lying on the floor, and Shuichi follows. The sky, from this perspective, seems endless, surrounding him in a half dome shape. “That one is the little dipper,” Rantaro points at a group of stars. “The one there? At the end? That’s Polaris, the north star. I’m no Kaito and no astronomy expert, but to me, if you can find the little dipper, if you can find Polaris, you can find your way anywhere.” Rantaro smiles as his gaze softens. “It’s like the star that guides me.”

“You’re my Polaris,” Shuichi whispers faintly, and Rantaro turns in surprise to look at him, and his cheeks are red, and Shuichi smiles shyly. “I’d follow you anywhere willingly. You light my path.”

Rantaro goes even redder, and seems to be rendered speechless, and they return to that comfortable silence, but Shuichi is smiling as he looks up at the night,

“It should happen any minute now,” Rantaro suddenly speaks up, and Shuichi is, for a second, thrown completely off guard. He wasn’t aware that Rantaro had plans.

“What should happen-” Shuichi starts in complete confusion, but is cut off as Rantaro smiles cheekily and the sky, to his surprise, begins to change.

Shuichi stares in utter wonder as soft shades of coral and amethyst start to move across the sky, shifting in folds of smooth silk, as if someone brushed a stroke of watercolour across the canvas that is the night sky. Faint folds of emerald gradually glow brighter and brighter, as viridescent colours appear, overlapping over one another.

And all of a sudden, the sky explodes into colour. The lights on the sky seem to dance and they skirt around and over one another, glowing so brightly and yet they meld ever so softly into one another, and it’s absolutely magical. It coats the boat and the sails and everything in sheens of ever-changing pinks and violets and blues and greens, and it looks so surreal, like a scene out of a fairytale, a picture out of a dream. The lights twirl and spin in their elegant dance of happiness as they flit in and out of the mist and reflect everywhere. Shuichi can’t help but stare, jaw on the floor as he watches the sky, entirely mesmerized by the beauty of the aurora borealis.

“Did you plan this?” he asks Rantaro, but is unable to remove his eyes from the folds of fluttering silk almost flying across the sky. Rantaro laughs, a sweet tintinnabulation in the cool night air, but Shuichi notices a slight tinge in it, as if there’s something bothering him. He chooses not to comment on it, though- Rantaro will tell him when he’s ready, there’s no need to rush his troubled best friend. Nevertheless, his heart swells with delight as he receives the confirmation.

Shuichi turns to Rantaro, and the stars and sky are reflected in the younger boy’s eyes as Shuichi gazes into them in absolute delight. “Thank you… how can I ever thank you enough? This is wonderful- it’s- it’s so beautiful....” Not quite as beautiful as you are, but it comes quite close, he privately adds silently.

Rantaro smiles back at him, blinking, and Shuichi remembers (and feels ashamed to have forgotten at all, but the aurora captured his whole mind) that his best friend is drunk, and he’s a lightweight. But Rantaro’s always been quite law-abiding… Why would he suddenly get himself drunk?

Rantaro’s staring out at the horizon, and Shuichi follows his gaze. Above him, the stars shine and the aurora swirls around them, and Shuichi fervently hopes that it’ll bring Rantaro some peace of mind, that it’ll soothe him just a little bit.

They continue in silence for a while more, until Rantaro speaks again, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

“She reacted just like you did,” he mumbles almost incoherently, and Shuichi almost doesn’t catch his words.

“One of your sisters?” Shuichi speaks as softly as possible.

Rantaro sighs, letting a bitter smile grace his lips, and Shuichi can see the grief, still fresh in his lemongrass eyes. “Shu, do you know what Inori means?”

Shuichi shakes his head. Inori, he recalls, is Rantaro’s second youngest sister, the girl they’re on this journey to look for. She was lost in Finland when she was only five, four years ago. (They’re currently skirting around the seas near Iceland, but they’ll be there in two days, so he’s not surprised Rantaro’s thinking about her.)

Rantaro continues, “It means ‘prayer’.” He laughs bitterly. “Inori loved her name. She was so small, but she knew how to comfort people well, and she cared so much for everyone. She had me pray with her every night that peace would run in the family, that we’d all be happy, every day. Not once did she pray for herself at all. It was always ‘Minori this’ or ‘Shiori that’, or Yuki, or Ena, or Rina and Riku and Amaka and-” he breaks off, and awkwardly, Shuichi puts both his arms around his best friend as the green-haired boy buries his face in him. Rantaro’s not crying, at least he doesn’t seem to be, but Shuichi can tell how distraught he is.

He hates it, the helplessness he feels, his inability to help, and it’s almost as if he’s cursed as he watches his friend suffer from his own wrath, and he wishes to the stars above that they could comfort Rantaro, or let them switch places, because, gosh, he doesn’t want to see Rantaro suffer at all. He wants nothing more to help, to be able to do more than hug him tightly and hold him, but this is all he can do, and he hates it.

The younger boy inhales. “It’s her birthday today,” he whispers. “Four years ago, today, we saw the northern lights here too. She was so surprised and awestruck and you just, I’m sorry-” reminded me of her, Shuichi finishes for him in his mind. He feels so guilty, but he knows apologizing would just make Rantaro feel worse, so he doesn’t.

Rantaro pulls away, rubbing at his eyes, and gives Shuichi a smile- a smile that doesn’t quite reach his gorgeous lemongrass eyes. He stands up, and Shuichi follows, as they walk over to the handrail and Rantaro leans on it, smiling faintly as he looks at the sea.

Shuichi watches him as he swipes away the tears brimming at his eyes, and Rantaro notices him staring. His best friend smiles at him again, and starts to turn back to the sea and sky and horizon in front of them, but he spins back to face Shuichi and all of a sudden, before Shuichi can react, the boy’s lips are on his.

Shuichi is too shocked to react at first, but soon he comes to his senses and kisses back as Rantaro wraps his hands around him tightly. His lips taste vaguely of vodka, but Shuichi is no stranger to alcohol, and doesn’t really mind. He feels so surreal, like what he’s experiencing right now is a dream and he could wake up any second, and he feels his heart pumping out of his chest and his stomach doing somersaults. The world seems to stop spinning and to Shuichi, everything feels completely right. This is where he was meant to be from the beginning.

After a while, though, Shuichi breaks away reluctantly. He can’t take advantage of Rantaro, his best friend, like this, not when he’s drunk and upset over his sister, not when he knows Rantaro did that out of desperation, out of his need for an anchor. He’d never like me. Not like how I love him.

“You’re drunk,” he says, as gently as he can, “we can’t do something you’ll regret later on.”

In the starlight, Rantaro looks beautiful, and yet so far away. “I won’t regret it,” he says weakly.

Shuichi is forced to look away as he murmurs, “You will.” No one in their right mind wouldn’t. “Come on, we can discuss it in the morning, alright? It’s late, you should sleep. It makes you feel better.”

Rantaro nods, and soon he disappears down the stairs, leaving Shuichi alone, alone with the stars and the lights, and he touches his lips where they met Rantaro’s, and smiles in giddiness.

He’s not so naive as to think that Rantaro would like him back at all, not when he’s so irrational and anxious and annoying all the time. He knows, with dread pounding in his stomach, that it won’t ever happen again.

But maybe, just maybe, just for tonight, he can let this fantasy become reality.

Maybe, just for tonight, he can smile, and believe that one day, his best friend will like him back.

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa fanfiction #rantaro amami #shuichi saihara #rantaro x shuichi #amasai #amasai week 2020

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marvelxfam · 6 years ago

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hey may you do a part two to growing up please? the one where the reader likes steve but is tony’s daughter? if so that’d be awesome hehe. in it, could the reader possibly interact with steve somehow and steve does reciprocate feelings towards the reader? wanda can sort of help out, it’s up to you hehe thank you x

I wasn’t planning on doing a second part but I’ve gotten a few requests for another part so here you goooooo:)

Growing Up-Part Two✨

(Steve x Reader)

(Tony!Dad x Reader)

warnings: SWEETNESS, GOOD FRIENDS, OVERPROTECTIVE IRON DAD

“This is stupid.”

You dusted off your hands and pushed yourself up from the mat, sighing in annoyance. Sweat trickled down your forehead as you raised your fists once more, crouching down in a fighting position. Steve was training you for your upcoming mission with the team, although you saw no need for a combat session.

“It’s not stupid. It’s useful,” Steve objected. He took a swig of water from his steel blue bottle and placed it down gently on the bench. He stepped back onto the mat, eyeing you with a smirk. It was just enough to make your mind race millions of miles per hour.

“Why should I be learning to fight if I’m going to be spending my time on the mission hacking computers and using coding?” You whined.

Although you saw no use for these lessons, you were secretly thrilled that Steve had been the one to offer to teach you. You had barely made it through your last interaction with him, and wanted to show that you weren’t just Tony’s daughter who knew the ins and outs of technology. You wanted to be more than the daughter of Steve’s best friend who your dad said was strictly off limits. Tony hadn’t prohibited your crush on his friend, but he certainly wasn’t approving of it.

Steve gave you a look. “In case you run into any trouble, you can use this training when you need it. Start with a stance,” Steve ordered with a straight face, although you could see the ends of his lips twitching, trying to keep from smiling.

He didn’t think of you as Tony’s daughter. To Steve, you were much more than that. You were the girl who spent hours upon hours in labs, your intelligence and kind manner spiking an interest in Steve’s heart. He couldn’t believe when you argued with Tony about who was right and who was wrong, knowing your intricate, beautiful mind held everything great about you. You weren’t arrogant or too confident, and you had a habit of always making sure everyone was okay, and somehow knowing when another person wasn’t. You joked about having a “sixth sense”; being able to detect what was wrong with a person with just a simple look. You were compassionate and hard-working, and always got Steve to smile when he was a little too stressed or serious. Everything about you made Steve wish he could be with you.

But then there was the fact that you were still Tony’s daughter, although he preferred not to think of you as that.

“Like this?” You asked, raising your fists and straightening your posture. You leaned your head to the side, a repetitive motion you did when asking a question.

Steve examined you, although he wasn’t looking at your stance. He saw how you pulled your hair into a ponytail, but strands always seemed to escape and frame your facial features. He saw the soft glow of your eyes in the fading sunlight and the rosiness of your cheeks from a long day of practicing. His heart warmed at the sight of you, tired but persevering like always.

“Steve?” You called out his name softly, a gentle smile playing on your lips when you noticed he had been staring a tad bit too long. It broke his trance and he cleared his throat, trying to get over the blush that crept onto his cheeks.

“Um-eh-it’s actually like this.”

Steve walked over, standing behind you. He wrapped his arms around you and moved your fists to their appropriate place. His body was pressed against yours as he moved your stiff limbs, your breath stopping at the feeling of him against you. You silently hoped he couldn’t feel your heartbeat just then, because it was going insane.

Steve could, in fact, feel your heartbeat, and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He thought that this was just another hopeless crush of his, and was glad to see that part of you felt the same way.

His eyes were intensely focused on your fists as his face brushed against yours in an attempt to adjust your hands. Your skin tingled at the contact, a mild blush heating up your cheeks as well.

“So..am I a super soldier now or-“

You turned your head towards Steve, not knowing how close the two of you were. His face barely touching yours as your words stuck in your throat, feeling his slow breathing on your skin. His mouth hung open a bit as he gazed deeply into your eyes, unsure how to respond-if he could even respond when his heart started to beat rapidly too.

The two of you leaned in, closing the small distance-

The door swung open with a bang as Tony burst in, appalled at the sight.

“When I asked for someone to give Y/N lessons, Cap, they didn’t involve mouth to mouth resuscitation. What on earth do you think you’re doing with my daughter?” Tony shouted, furious. You stepped forward to speak up to your dad, but Steve protectively put an arm out, holding you back.

“Tony, let me explain-“

“So, you want to explain how close you were to KISSING MY DAUGHTER JUST NOW, STEVE? WHAT ON EARTH-“

“Dad!” You yelled, hoping Tony’s anger would be spared for Steve and given to you instead.

“Y/N…” Your father’s voice trailed off, a mixture of disappointment and fatigue in his tone. “You’re incredibly smart. I thought when you told me you liked Steve, you would at least not act on it. I expected so much more from you,” Tony admitted.

“I will speak with you later. I want to talk to Steve.” Tony’s voice hardened. You knew it was best if you left, taking one last apologetic look at Steve before dashing out the door.

“I can’t believe you. Going after Y/N? My daughter?” Tony argued. Steve paced, trying to clear his head.

“Tony-“

“No. You don’t get to stand here and apologize, and then I forgive you with conditions and everything goes back to normal,” Tony spat, watching Steve’s stressed state. He groaned, slapping a palm to his forehead. “You really like her, don’t you?”

Steve inhaled deeply, racking his head for an answer. Of course he liked you. He spent every minute trying to convince himself he didn’t, but when it came down to all of the little moments he shared with you, he knew that there was a flame there he hadn’t felt in ages.

Steve nodded boldly. “Yes. You may hate me for saying it, Tony, but I cannot help but like Y/N. I’m going to spare you the details, but, the way she makes me feel, Tony? I’ve never been more myself than when I’m with her. She makes me incredibly happy, and I respect you but I want to be with Y/N, and I’m not looking for your acceptance here. I’ll do what it takes to be with her.”

Tony rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. He paused for a few seconds, hundreds of thoughts filling his brain. “Okay, you’ve got guts, Cap. You do know what you’ve got coming for you, right?”

Steve couldn’t hide his enthusiasm. “Yeah, you’re going to give me a really hard time for this, aren’t you?”

A few hours later, a quiet knock came from your door. You were hoping it was Tony, coming back to reason with you after blowing off steam. Instead, Wanda opened the door, poking her head in to see if you wanted her presence. All it took was a nod from you to send her rushing over to your bedside, sitting across from you as she took your hand in hers.

“I’m sorry. When Tony said he wanted someone to give you training, I was the one that told Steve he should do it and that you had asked for him. This is all my fault,” Wanda’s pained expression said more than enough for you to hug her.

You shook your head. “It’s not your fault. You knew how much I liked Steve, and you were just trying to help out.”

Wanda pulled away, her face turning into excitement. “So, how was the session?” She asked, leaning in with anxiousness. You grinned widely.

“Wanda, I might be crazy, or stupid, but, I think he likes me back. I could feel it, right before we almost kissed-“

“YOU ALMOST KISSED?” Wanda echoed in shock. You pressed a finger to your lips, shushing her.

“Yeah, almost, right before we did then my dad walked in-“

“No! Get out!” Wanda exclaimed in disbelief. “I can’t believe Tony walked in right before your big moment. What a romance ruiner. No offense,” Wanda said sheepishly, not wanting to upset you.

You huffed in annoyance. “I know. I can’t believe it either. I know that he’s just trying to be my dad, but I just want to have something great happen to me that isn’t an award or because of what my dad’s done for me. I’m not just Tony Stark’s daughter, and I think Steve saw me as more. And it felt…”

“Good?” Wanda completed your sentence. You nodded sadly. “Well, what’s going to happen now?”

A harsher knock echoed at your door. The two of you looked at each other knowingly. “Well, I guess we’re about to find out,” you said.

You followed your dad silently to the training room where Steve was waiting, hands buried in the pockets of his pants. His eyes met yours for a moment, and a small flicker of happiness flowed inside both of you. Tony snapped, breaking the stare.

“I’ve talked to Steve, Y/N, and…”

An uneasy feeling twisted in your stomach. The pause made you sick with worry.

“I just don’t think it’s best.” Tony sighed.

Your heart sank. Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Tony you said-“

“Ah, let me finish.” Tony put a hand in the air, drawing attention from the both of you.

“I just don’t think it’s best…for me to come between the two of you.” Tony gave a defeated smile, but a smile nonetheless.

You laughed a little in disbelief, looking over at Steve. He rushed over to you, picking you up in his arms and spinning you around in joy. Tony gagged, uncomfortable with the sight.

“You treat her well, Rogers. I will not hesitate to get into a fight if she ever sheds a tear because of you-“

“Dad,” you pleaded in embarrassment.

“I’m not done, Y/N. There will absolutely be rules. Tons. But they’re all to ensure that my daughter is safe, and that Steve isn’t an idiot. Other than that, go ahead and fall in love. The two of you deserve it.” Now Tony was the one who couldn’t hide the happiness in his voice.

Steve had his arms around your waist, with yours locked around his neck. The two of you smiled with glee, leaning in to seize the moment. Your lips brushed against his-

“HEY! THERE WILL BE NONE OF THAT!”

“DAD!”

The End☺️

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fanficwriter013 · 6 years ago

Text

Drunk on Shadows

A Winter Soldier Fanfic

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Clint/Bucky eventually

Word Count: 1344

Warnings: Canon divergent, TWS is mostly rewritten for my purposes.

Synopsis: Clint tries to retire, he really does. He hates to admit it, but he’s A) only human, and B) getting older. But when Nat calls with suspicious activity at SHIELD and an off-books mission for Clint he can’t tell her no.

Author’s Note: Written for the Winterhawk Reverse Big Bang @winterhawkbigbang, art courtesy of @avengerscompound

Chapter 1: The Setup

Clint had gotten quite the payday from the battle of New York, and he might have made a few impulse buys. The biggest of which had been a farm in a highly classified location. He’d wanted to retire, time off felt good on his aging human body. Which Clint really didn’t want to think about.

The farm was huge, a couple of hundred acres. A small flock of chickens, a goat or four, two houses and a shared barn and storage area. He was using this time to be more present in his brother’s life, and he was looking forward to being the cool uncle to his niece and nephew. They were also getting quite the education into animals, and responsibility with taking care of the chickens. It was a good plan, and Nat would sometimes stop by. Or call him to complain about SHIELD stuff. He was living the life.

“Clint, he’s literally a dinosaur. No, no wait. I just thought up a sick burn. How do you think patriotic stickler is going to react when I have my side mission?” Nat asked she was on a video chat with him so that she could sign along while she complained. Apparently, she and Steve were being sent on a mission to some boat, and Nat was not pleased about it. Although, that wasn’t unusual. She wasn’t pleased unless she got to go on a mission by herself, and she got to stab someone.

“Well, you know. Just stab him in the arm. He’ll be fine.” Clint joked, and Nat rolled her eyes at him. Her attention got drawn off the screen, and she quickly signed that she had to go before the chat was ended. She probably didn’t want to show emotion to anyone else, and Clint was fine with that.

Nat called back a few days later and was already in the middle of a story. Clint had to snap a few times to get her attention. She gave him a look, probably because he’d snapped at her like some sort of animal. He knew that, but she could forget to slow down.

“When you get here, I’m slapping you upside the head for that one.” Nat threatened. Clint narrowed his eyes at her, trying to figure out why he was going to DC. “Something’s going on. I want you to do your perchy thing, surveillance bird.” He was trying to read her face, looking for the prank. But apparently, she was serious.

“Okay fine. You owe me, big time.” Clint said, and Nat gave him a huge mischievous grin before she hung up on him again. He’d seen that look before, and he wasn’t sure he liked seeing it in this setting.

He'd been right. He'd been so right. Nat had gotten him a shitty, squatters apartment catty-corner to where Steve was living. The only times he could leave the apartment were when he was sure that Steve wouldn't catch him. Imagine trying to explain to that fucking face why you were caught spying on him. You know the face.

Most of the time it was hideously boring. Steve was such an old man it wasn't even funny. He listened to records and cried himself to sleep at night. And woke screaming like two hours later. Yeah, okay. Everyone had their issues, no one can escape from the vice grips of PTSD.

But then, one night it changed. Fury was in Steve's apartment when Steve wasn't. In fact, Fury had limped into Steve's apartment. And now Clint was on high alert. Something was going on. He didn't like the looks of this.

Fury had just been sitting in the dark, in Steve's apartment for over an hour when Clint caught a faint shiny reflection. Yes, someone might be able to make a joke about his bird name and being attracted to shiny objects. But it led him to see it. No, Him.

There was a sniper, and if Clint hadn't already suspected something, he sure as hell did now. He couldn't risk his position, and he was sure that Fury was dark. Fury was off-grid dark. There'd be no text warnings to anyone.

It seemed like once the sniper got there, so did Steve. There was probably talking, but they were also spies, smart enough to have background noises or to verbally talk about something else. Then everything happened at once. The sniper fired, Clint couldn't worry about the target or their health. He needed to go after the ghost.

In a flash, Clint was out into the fire escape. Tracking the big bulky shadow, come to think of it. He had some seriously broad shoulders, that might have been a turn on. Clint shook his head, focusing on the task at hand.

The shadow had jumped from one roof to another, and now Clint was running down the street trying to keep up. But suddenly his ghost story put on a huge burst of speed, like seriously thirty miles per hour, and was gone. Clint was so distracted by his eyes failing him that he ran headlong into a wall. That wasn't unusual, nor was it the first time. But he'd have a hell of a time trying to explain this to Nat. Speaking of Nat, she was video calling him right now.

When he turned on the video it looked like she'd been crying, or rather trying not to cry. In Russia, emotions have you. Not the other way around. Sure, she'd agreed to come to SHIELD with him but her range of emotions was seriously stunted. He should know he was a pot here. There were about three minutes where she kind of just looked at him, almost like she wasn't even there before she said anything at all.

"Fury is dead." She said, and now Clint understood. He was her quasi-father, and this loss would affect her deeply. He made sure he caught her eye.

"I'll be at your apartment when you get back." He said, and she gave him a solemn nod. He could do that for her, hold her if she needed to cry. Hold up focus mitts if she just wanted to hit things. They could just drink vodka in silence. Or they could go to one of those shooting ranges. Whatever Natasha needed.

"Can you believe the nerve. Golden Retriever Rogers lied to my very face." Nat was pacing back and forth and ranting with a bottle of vodka in her hand. Occasionally she'd stop to take a swig, or four.

"You saw him right?" Nat asked, stopping dead in her tracks and spinning to point at Clint. Clint held his hands up, he didn't want her to throw anything at him.

"Yes, bulky shadow dude. Hulking dude, some broad ass shoulders. And hot damn those were some broad shoulders." Clint said, and Nat snapped her fingers at him before throwing the vodka cap at him.

"Dammit Clint, stop being a whore. He shot me, remember. And he's just killed Fury. Come on." She snarled at him, and Clint nodded. Okay, not the time. Shadow dude was still built like a tank though. And boy did Clint like his men. Full stop. Clint liked men, he wasn't picky about them.

"Birdboy, cut it out," Nat said sharply, clicking her fingers right in his face. He couldn't pretend to miss that like he'd missed about half of her ranting. Hearing aids can only help so much.

"Okay, so we're dealing with your ghost story. And you don't trust Steve. So how do you want to proceed?" He asked, sure she may be drinking. But she definitely wasn't drunk and she'd have good ideas about what she wanted to do.

"You're going to go back to watch Steve. You're off books, so he shouldn't be expecting you. Text me the second he does anything fishy. I want hourly updates." Nat said. That seemed reasonable. Something was definitely up here. She'd stay inside, he'd stay on the outside. They'd divide and conquer. It'd be okay.

// NEXT

#captain america: tws #avengers #clint barton #winter soldier #Bucky Barnes #winterhawk #clint x bucky #winterhawk rbb 2019

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