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luckydreams218 · 1 year

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Hidden in Darkness Chapter 3

Hello hello!

Thank you for taking a look at my writing! :D

Just a small heads up: I am by no means a professional writer, I just enjoy creative writing as a hobby and a fun pass time. I don’t do a lot of proof-reading and don’t usually plan my chapters either, I just write whatever I’m feeling on a given day. I apologize if my writing may be a bit messy, sloppy, choppy, not flow-y, etc., but I hope that you can enjoy reading regardless! I am still actively working on this series and will be posting new content as I finish (which may be on the slow end, so please be patient). Thank you again for your interest!

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Word Count: 3,423

Chapter III: Into the Hall of the Mountain King

Aki grinned as she watched Mimi and Ares step through with expressions of total confusion. The illusion of the rock wall wavered while each passed through and then solidified once more to appear as though a solid rock face stood before them. Inside it was dark and rather muggy, torches lining the walls at irregular intervals providing enough light to be able to see that the passage wound and twisted far ahead and deep into the mountain’s heart. The tunnels weren’t big and were lined with stone on the floor, ceiling, and walls. She was just barely able to stand at full height without smacking her head on the ceiling. Aki herself was quite tall thanks to the influence of draconic magic that ran through her veins. She was just slightly taller than even Ares. Mimi stood about a full head shorter than her, but she never cared, Mimi was still her best friend. Aki recognized every tunnel before her and was already planning their escape route so that the Squadron would never be able to follow them.

“What is this place?” Mimi breathed, taking it in.

“And how did you know about it?” Ares added, folding his wings in since they wouldn’t fit if he spread them out long. “Mom has taken me here on multiple occasions. They’re dwarven tunnels. It’s like a maze in here if you don’t know where you’re going, so be sure to follow me closely,” Aki said, slowly striding ahead, careful to watch every corner for guards.

“Wait, Celeste actually fit in here?” Mimi asked incredulously, looking around with wonder and a hint of fear.

“No, no, of course not. A fully grown dragon would never fit in these tunnels,” Aki chuckled, trying to picture her mother entering into this place. She’d probably only be able to squeeze a claw in if she was lucky.

“So then why did you…?” Mimi asked with more concern than Aki would’ve liked.

“She… had her reasons,” Aki mumbled, ashamed of admitting the full truth to her best friend.

“What do you mean “she had her reasons”? I don’t like how secretive you’re being! We’re best friends, aren’t we? What aren’t you telling me?” Mimi growled suddenly.

“Shhh!” Aki hissed, cupping her hand over Mimi’s mouth. “We’re not supposed to be in here. We’ll be imprisoned by the guards if we’re caught, so keep your voice down. Also, they know my face, and they know what I’ve done. I’m likely never to be released from here if I get caught. So keep moving and stay as silent as possible.”

Mimi was speechless for a few seconds and then her face went pale. She looked as though she was about to cry. ““They know what you’ve done”? What have you done? Aki, this isn’t like you. What’s wrong with you?”

“Let’s just say that I’m not as much of a goody-two-shoes as you think I am. The Aki that you’ve gotten to know on the Peaks is the Aki that lives in my heart. We’re still friends, I promise. I’d never lie to you. I just haven’t told you the whole truth because I didn’t want you to have to worry about me. I’ve had to face some harsh realities that you never needed to since you always stayed in the Peaks with your mom and dad,” Aki answered softly, unable to meet Mimi’s eye. I never wanted her to be mad at me…

“Like what, huh? Why don’t you tell me?” Mimi huffed.

“We need to get out of here quickly! I’ll explain everything once we’re out of the dwarven tunnels, okay?” Aki asked, trying to calm Mimi down.

“No! How do I know you’re not lying about this, too?” Mimi shot back, clearly choking back a sob.

Aki thought for a moment and then an idea came to her. “Butterfly, butterfly, sends you a kiss. It holds the seal of this promise,” she chanted sweetly, linking both of her thumbs together and fluttering her hands like a butterfly’s wings. She allowed them to land on Mimi’s right hand, and then pulled them back. Guilt flooded Aki’s thoughts. Everything that she’d kept hidden was because she never thought there’d be a reason to tell Mimi. But her secrets only seemed to serve to push them apart. And for that, she could never forgive herself. When Mimi didn’t reply right away, Aki let out a long sigh. “Mimi, please…” she whispered, trying her best not to cry as well.

“Fine. But when we get out of here, I want you to explain everything,” Mimi answered in a tone that wasn’t as harsh as before. Aki smiled softly. Maybe she could still make this right.

“Keep quiet and follow behind me,” Aki directed, dashing down a nearby passage. She kept an eye out for guards the whole time, twisting and turning until she came to a hallway that was carpeted and seemed to have a lot more light than the others. The carpet was red lined with gold and in good condition, too, unlike some of the torches and beat up passages they weaved through earlier. Aki halted just around the corner from the carpeted passage, peering carefully around the corner. She spotted exactly what she thought she’d see. A pair of guards standing watch over the King’s Passage. She turned back to the others quickly, hoping with all her might that she hadn’t been spotted. She placed a finger over her lips, directing Mimi and Ares to keep absolutely silent. Then with her hands, she created a rune in midair. The rune was a circle within a circle within a circle. In between the three circles in the two rows of empty space were many foreign characters, most of which she was unable to read. They were from an old and forgotten language known as the Lost Tongue. Long ago, this language was used to formulate all kinds of powerful spells and sorcery, but its use was becoming less and less prominent over the years. Most use the runes with the characters from the Lost Tongue in order to control the flow of magic, however few, if any, actually know how to read any of the Lost Tongue.

Aki held the rune out before her so she could stabilize the spell that she poured within its rings. The outermost rings began to glow a silvery purple, tracing every line of the rune and its characters until it reached the center and colored the entire rune, causing it to emanate a soft purple glow. Then, in a quick burst of light, the rune vanished and in its place was the completed spell. Two small fairies, illusions that Aki had created, hovered before her. Mimi and Ares both watched, awestruck, as Aki sent her illusions down the carpeted hallway. She heard the dwarven guards mumble something to one another in a language she couldn’t comprehend, and then heard their heavy footsteps as they presumably started following her illusions down the hall.

Aki quickly motioned for Mimi and Ares to follow behind her while they had an opportunity to run through the King’s Passage.

“How did you know that would work?” Mimi whispered softly.

“Dwarves have a soft spot for anything that is fey and whimsical. Butterflies might’ve worked, but there’s a chance they wouldn’t have been enough to catch the guards’ attention. So I went with the slightly more difficult, but more effective fairies to distract them for a little. I don’t know how long we have, though, so we’ve gotta move quickly,” Aki whispered back with slight urgency. “Now keep as quiet as possible. Any little sound will echo off these walls and get us in trouble.”

With that warning, Aki began running swiftly down the passage the guards were watching. The cave wall to the right opened up to a railing that looked down upon a massive hall in the cave. In total, it was probably one hundred feet from floor to ceiling, a daunting chandelier hanging precariously from the very top illuminated by small torches. Sitting in a large throne, apparently asleep, was a large giant no more than sixty feet tall, with pale skin and a bald head save for a few wispy pieces of hair that weren’t well kept. The giant was dressed in robes of the finest red velvet, his head adorned with a crown of thousands of sparkling gems. Aki didn’t spend any more time than she needed in that dreadful chamber, luring the guards on the other side away with another illusion. Mimi and Ares caught up moments later, and Aki started leading them through the last of the winding tunnels. The tunnels after the King’s Passage were back to the same, dark, beat up halls that they hand meandered through upon first entering the dwarves’ lair. And finally, still keeping as silent as possible, Aki ducked through another stone wall that led out into a large forest, tall trees spreading around on all sides out from the cliff face. The sun had already begun to set, painting the horizon a deep red orange and giving the leaves of the trees brilliant golden highlights. Underneath the trees, it was already starting to get quite dark.

Mimi and Ares took in the scenery for a few moments, watching the beautiful sunset with Aki.

“Look at all the trees. And the sunset is so pretty! Aki, how far did you take us?” Mimi asked with curiosity.

“Far enough that the Squadron will never be able to catch up to us,” Aki replied with pride. They had escaped the single most powerful force in all of Mistvale Peak thanks to her friend’s need for escape and her cunning.

“Now, I’m not going to be distracted by the pretty scenery. You still owe me an explanation!” Mimi growled at Aki suddenly, reminding her that things weren’t all settled just yet.

“We should really find a place to set up camp for the night and get a small fire started to keep warm before it really gets dark,” Ares suggested, gesturing to the sun that had almost moved out of sight below the horizon.

“Fine,” Mimi muttered. “I guess it’ll make for a pretty good campfire story anyway.”

“If we split up to find firewood, it’ll be faster,” Aki pointed out. “Since you’ve never been in the woods before, Mimi, you can come find firewood with me. Or you can go with Ares if he’ll let you.”

Mimi glanced over at Ares, her expression asking if she could come along.

“Sure, you can come with me, I don’t mind,” Ares chuckled.

“Yay!” Mimi responded, beginning to head deeper into the woods before Ares. Aki chuckled and rolled her eyes. I should’ve figured. It’s really cute to see Mimi this affectionate towards him. I wonder if Ares has figured it out yet, Aki laughed to herself.

“We’ll meet back here once we gather enough wood and then we’ll find a good spot to set up camp,” Ares called over to Aki, preparing to follow Mimi into the woods.

“Sounds good! Catch up with you shortly,” Aki agreed, going in the opposite direction to find firewood. After going almost ten steps, she found some nice big branches that would make perfect fire material. She grabbed them and kept searching. I just hope Mimi can forgive me for keeping this part of my past from her for all these years. I didn’t mean for it to hurt her that I kept it a secret. It just… it would’ve hurt me to tell it to her. Now I know I have no choice if she’s to trust me again, so I’ll tell her everything she wants to know. All of it. No more secrets. She is my best friend after all, Aki thought to herself, slowly making her way between some more trees. She spotted another big log and picked it up, carrying on her way.

~~~~

A small fire pit had been set up with rocks around the perimeter so the flames couldn’t escape and burn the surrounding forestry. Aki picked up two smaller stones and began to strike them against one another, attempting to get a good spark to start a flame. Just as she thought she had gotten the motion down, the fire pit suddenly lit up before her without warning. With a startled shriek, Aki moved back away from the blaze to keep from harming herself.

“Are you okay? Did you forget I could use fire magic?” Ares asked with concern. Aki just gave a grumble of displeasure, rolling her eyes. Right. Of course I forgot the demon could use fire magic.

“I’m fine. I appreciate your concern, though,” Aki replied kindly.

“Alright, now that we’re all set, it’s story time!” Mimi called, settling down on a log they had grabbed earlier as a place to sit. Ares followed suit as Aki got up to do the same.

“So, where would you like me to begin?” Aki asked, allowing Mimi and Ares to start the conversation.

“Um, earlier you said that your mom had her reasons for sending you into the tunnels. What were they?” Mimi asked, sitting herself like a child about to hear a ghost story told by firelight.

“My mother - well, the one who raised me, at least - is a dragon. And like any dragon, she’s greedy and loves treasure. She is always trying to get her claws on any new gems she can. She knew the dwarves are masters of finding gems and precious metals deep within their caves, however she could never access them due to her size. And so, when she found me, she sent me within the dwarven tunnels to retrieve those gems for her. After all, stolen gems don’t need to be paid for. At least, that was her philosophy,” Aki explained, a hint of resentment in her tone.

“What? But your mom is so nice and she cares for you so much! Why would she steal anything from anyone?” Mimi asked innocently.

“The mist that encompasses Mistvale Peak is a mist that purifies the minds and hearts of those within. It prevents anyone from wanting to steal, cheat, attack, or otherwise harm anyone else. It was put in place as a protection for the angels who dwell within so they would never have the urge to kill another and evoke their curse. The mist’s magic has a stronger effect on minds that have been fully developed which is why children, like the ones we saw throwing rocks earlier, can still cause mischief. My mother, however, being an adult dragon, feels the full effects of the mist whenever we are within the borders of Mistvale Peak. As do I, to some extent, though I am still very young, relatively speaking, so I feel its influence less strongly. The moon dragon that you know on Mistvale Peak is very different from the one I am forced to live with outside that spell. Outside the purifying influence of the Peaks, my mother is a tyrant who forces me to obey her will no matter what she tells me to do,” Aki answered honestly, glancing away from Mimi to disguise the hurt that could be seen on her face.

“And if you don’t do as she asks…?” Mimi replied softly, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“I never wanted to become a thief or a pickpocket. Yes, there is a certain thrill that I get out of it, but the act of stealing itself was never something I cared for. I tried defying her. Once or twice. But I was never strong enough to defend myself against her attacks. Being a moon dragon, she is able to utilize healing magic. Kind of ironic if you ask me, because she would always claw me within an inch of my life, make me feel that pain until I complied, and would only heal me once she knew I would do as she asked. I never had a choice. It was either steal from the dwarves, or death itself,” Aki muttered, on the verge of tears just thinking about it.

Mimi and Ares sat frozen in silence for a few moments, the only sound the crackling of the fire before them, embers dancing in a smoky haze as darkness descended heavily upon the forest.

“So then, why didn’t you ever tell me? I would’ve tried to help…” Mimi began, her voice constricted with pain and sympathy.

“I never told you for exactly that reason. I never wanted you to get tied up in my problems. As long as I kept quiet, you wouldn’t have tried to help and would therefore never get hurt in the process,” Aki replied softly. “If you ever wondered why I’d never talk about the times I left the Peaks with my mom, then here is your reason. It hurt too much to talk about and I didn’t want you to have to worry.”

By this point Aki couldn’t keep a few tears from falling gently, not trying to hold it in anymore. There was no point, anyway. She had told Mimi everything she’d kept hidden for so long. In between a choked sob, Aki managed to ask in little more than a whisper, “Could you ever forgive me for keeping this from you?”

Mimi came over at that moment, embracing her friend in a tight hug. “Of course I can, Aki! You’re my best friend, and nothing can change that. Not even a dramatic backstory,” Mimi joked lightly. Aki replied with a soft laugh and a grin, hugging her friend back.

“Now that that’s settled, I think it’s about time we get some sleep. If we’re gonna get anywhere tomorrow, we’re gonna need our rest,” Aki stated, wiping the last of her tears from her cheeks. Mimi and Ares nodded in agreement. Ares stood up and swiftly flew to a low tree branch, resting his head by the trunk and allowing his tail to drape over the edge.

“That looks comfy, can I join you?” Mimi asked up the tree.

“Probably best if you slept on the ground. It’s not safe when you don’t have wings to catch yourself if you fall,” Ares replied.

“I’ll be careful,” Mimi whined.

“How about this? You can sleep up here with me once you earn your wings, alright?” Ares responded with a gentle grin.

“Fine,” Mimi answered begrudgingly. “And I won’t let you forget that offer.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Ares chuckled. “Night Aki, night Angel Wings.”

“What was that?” Mimi asked suddenly, turning to face Ares. Even in the glow of the fire, Aki could see her cheeks had turned a little pink.

“I called you Angel Wings. Is that a problem?” He asked in a tone that almost expected the answer to be no.

“N-no, it’s not a problem,” Mimi answered slowly, almost not sure what to say.

“Good,” Ares grinned, a bit of a playful gleam in his eye. With that, Mimi stalked off, flustered, standing beside Aki.

“So where do we sleep?” She muttered softly.

“Wherever you want, it’s really your choice. I find that gathering a few leaves makes for a nice pillow, but that’s just me,” Aki replied, putting out the flame before settling in. Mimi found a spot next to her and did the same.

“Who was that in the cave?” Mimi asked drowsily just before Aki drifted off.

“Are you referring to the mountain giant?” Aki replied.

Mimi gave a feeble nod in response.

“That’s the King of the Dwarves,” Aki explained.

“Really? I would’ve thought the King of the Dwarves would be a dwarf,” Mimi mumbled.

“I would’ve thought so, too, but it turns out that the mountain giant has lived in the Blue Mountains for far longer than the dwarves have. The dwarves came to the Blue Mountains seeking shelter and the mountain giant allowed them to stay. In gratitude for his hospitality, they’ve come to worship the mountain giant almost like a deity and have crowned him their king. They hold all kinds of banquets and celebrations in his honor, and in return the mountain giant still allows them to stay and live and mine within his mountains,” Aki described.

“Whoa, that’s cool,” Mimi answered with a slight bit more enthusiasm. Before promptly dropping off to sleep the next moment. Aki chuckled and allowed herself to settle in as well. All’s well that ends well, I suppose, she thought as she drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

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I hope you enjoyed!! <3

Thank you again for reading and have an awesome day!

-- Lucky

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#fantasy #world building #oc #romcom #magic #homebrew

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diazpoems · 2 years

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Just speed read a Vampire AU fic that was actually good and ended in the couple getting married but also showed one person, the mortal, growing old and dying while the vampire stayed alive and the vampire partner mourning him after his death and all the years came flooding back to him at once and now I’m listening to El Triste by José José and crying what the fuck lol

#bear talks #this is why I didn’t actually fully read it because I would’ve gotten my heart ✨ shattered ✨#like instead of the little cry session I had I would’ve started literally sobbing #also idk if other ppl have this experience but #like I only spoke English or Spanglish growing up till now so it would stand to reason that if I need to be in my feels acutely #I’d reach for an English song but #i actually tend to reach for ballads in Spanish #idk maybe just cause we’re a strangely emphatically tragic people but it just hits more #and I started actually picking up Spanish from my family a couple years ago so I understand the lyrics easily #and it leaves me a sopping pathetic puddle of tears and emotions ✌🏽#if ur from an immigrant family but grew up speaking English do you still reach for songs in ur family’s language or do English songs hit #harder for y’all?? idk I’m curious. I’d figure it varies but

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icallhimjoey · 2 years

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Moving Up

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

part one - part two Summary: Joe's had enough of living with a flatmate, but doesn't leap at the chance to move in with you when you ask. What a dick. It makes you spiral into doom-thoughts until you puzzle together what's actually going on.

CW / disclaimer: angst, rpf (don’t read if this makes you uncomfy), fem!reader, mention of childhood trauma, bad relationship with your mother

Author’s note: idk his flatmate's name, so he's just "flatmate". Joey cries in this, but only a little, and it's 50% because he's just very tired, so don't let it tug at your heart strings too much.

Wordcount: 4k

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You weren’t exactly sure how moments ago you’d felt giddy excitement over the idea, because right now, your blood was boiling. If you were a cartoon, hot air would’ve escaped your ears.

The morning had started peaceful enough; you had breakfast together, Joe had checked on his hungover flatmate, who was still unconscious but very much alive, which was good, and Joe had mentioned wanting to move out.

It was all great fun, sharing London-rent with someone, but he had motioned in the general direction of his flatmate and said he was kind of done with this type of shit.

You weren’t sure if Joe was actively hinting at you to welcome him into your home, but it’s exactly what you did. It wasn’t until you saw hesitance in your boyfriend that you regretted bringing it up at all.

Of course, Joe would be his sensible self, thinking over pros and cons of moving in with you, and you knew what you were like.

That list would hold so very many cons.

Joe probably would say something like he didn’t think it’d be smart. But Joe stayed silent instead, and your mind had wandered off to a time when you’d mentioned moving in together before.

You just liked his company and you’d shown Joe an empty dresser to convince him it wouldn’t be an issue. When Joe asked what you’d done to all your things, you had shrugged and replied, “Oxfam.”.

“Please tell me you’re joking...”

But you hadn't been.

“You donated all your clothes?”

“Not all of them. Just what was in this dresser.”

“Five drawers worth of clothes?!”

You didn’t think it was a big deal. Sure, it had been a little annoying when you realised you only had three pairs of socks left, and you’d also donated a dress you’d borrowed from a friend.

But it had been fine.

Joe had taken you shopping to fill it back up with new items. And he’d gotten a flat. With a flatmate. And that had been fine too.

Joe was quiet for too long, and he wasn’t making direct eye contact.

“Honestly, move in with me.” Your voice was kind, but matter-of-factly, almost as if you’re daring him to it.

“We practically live together anyways, I’m not married to any of my things, we can redecorate, make room for your stuff,” you listed off things using your fingers, but your mind kind of stuck to the word married.

You’d been very adamant about not really believing in marriage, not wanting to ever get married, for several reasons. Was that why Joe was holding off living together? Because there’d be no big future milestone of a marriage? That thought scared you a little, and Joe noticed the subtle change in your face.

“We really could live together,” he leant forward, elbows on the table, hands moving in front of his face as he rubbed his palms together so you couldn't fully read him.

“Well then, what’s the problem?” you asked, getting straight to the point. There was no use in wondering and digging yourself holes you couldn’t think yourself out of.

Joe was silent for a second, and you filled in the blanks even though you knew you really shouldn’t.

Joe’s afraid to tell me he wants to get married and have children with someone.

Suddenly you knew it.

You convinced yourself you could feel it in your bones. You couldn’t feel it in your bones, but thinking it was enough for your brain to set it in stone.

“Is it because I don’t want to get married and have children with you?” you blurted it out, words falling onto the table and remaining there for Joe to stare at.

“In general. I don’t want to, with anyone.” You added quickly, clarifying yourself.

This couldn’t be news to Joe; these were things mentioned before in conversations with friends, with family, but it was the first time you asked Joe directly if this was going to be a problem.

But Joe wasn’t being open, instead very actively holding back, and you hated it.

“What is it, Joey?”

Joe leant back in his chair as he let his fingers loosely hold a knife that pushed left-over bits of breakfast around on his plate.

“I know what you don’t want,”

His face didn’t give anything away.

“And you know I think you’d make a great mother regardless.”

A compliment that means nothing to you. You think anyone could make a great mother if they decided to try their best at it.

Joe’s eyes met yours, and they looked at you with softness and kindness, and then, he said exactly the wrong words that shot hot anger directly into your veins.

Joe expertly links your choice to not want to have children of your own to childhood trauma. To your relationship with your mother.

An assumption you find offensive and completely unfair of him to make, disregarding your interests and wishes for your future. As if you hadn’t thought things over carefully, but had instead let someone else decide this for you which wasn’t the case at all.

“What the fuck does my mother have to do with this?!”

Joe thought he’d struck a chord, something you weren’t willing to face at the minute, and immediately started backtracking.

“That’s not what I meant, I’m sorry.”

It’s too late, his apology meaningless.

“But it is what you meant or you wouldn't have said it!” you raised your voice and squared up for a fight.

Getting to understand your family dynamics had taken Joe some time. Joe’s own parents had divorced when he was only young, but both had found new families, granting him half-siblings and twice the amount of affection.

Sure, he felt like sometimes he needed to fight for attention, but knowing it’s what ultimately lead him onto his career path, he was thankful too in a way.

Your parents had also divorced, but you’d already been in your twenties when they decided to call it off. Divorce had felt like sweet relief to you, because it meant that you wouldn’t be forced to spend so much time with your mother anymore.

There’d been times in your childhood where your mother had decided she needed to put herself first, taking drastic measures and disappearing for weeks on end.

Sometimes months.

It had left you forced to fetch for yourself and often times for your sisters too. You were the eldest and felt responsibility you later concluded no child should ever have to feel. But your dad would always be so proud when he’d come home from work and your sisters would be fed, washed and asleep and there was food waiting for him. You knew he worked hard, making long hours, taking extra shifts, just to make sure that you kept a roof over your heads. And so your chest would fill with pride when he’d eat the food you cooked and it would make up for your mother not being there.

It had left you a funny adult; independent, capable and strong, but childlike and insecure too.

Joe was no therapist, and you didn’t particularly like talking about it, but he’d been around long enough to connect at least some dots.

“Why the fuck would I think I’m like my mother?!”

“You’re not-”

“I am nothing like her; in any way, so obviously, if I were to have a baby – which I won’t because I get to decide that for myself – I wouldn’t fucking be like her then either!” you weren’t quite shouting, but you were being loud enough for Joe to shoot eyes in the direction of his flatmate’s bedroom.

You decided it’s the wrong thing for him to look at, but honestly, he could’ve looked in any direction and it would’ve added to your anger.

Joe had met your mum too, of course.

And at first, he hadn’t understood your disdain.

Your mother seemed a kind woman. She would joke with you as she poured Joe another glass of wine after dinner at her house. And you would seem to enjoy spending time with her, chatting about whatever, racking up anecdote after anecdote. But on your way out, you’d sigh and lean into him, relieved to be out of her presence. You’d seek for comfort in Joe, and would comment on not having to go through that again for another month or two.

Joe noticed subtle differences in you when you’d be around your father. There’d be no expectations on his end, and you’d be more content. It was hidden in little things like you sitting down at the dinner table with your mother, creating a table-width of distance between the two of you, your contact more formal. With your dad, you’d plop down right next to your dad on the sofa, legs touching, hugging as you’d say hi to each other.

With your dad there was space for banter and debate, and with your mother, there was literal space - so much space, between the two of you.

Joe had noticed it in your sisters too. He knew then that you played pretend around your mother and got to be your true selves around your father.

“That woman has nothing to do with choices I make! Full stop!”

You finished it, not wanting Joe to comment on it further.

There was a short silence.

You didn’t want kids because you didn’t want kids. Raising a child? Having it just be in your house all day every day, touching your things? Carrying responsibility for a whole other person? Spending your own earned money on it? Absolutely not your idea of fun.

Why did Joe have to bring your mother into this?

“It’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it now.” Joe tried, his voice slightly hushed. He wasn’t in for a fight, didn’t want to match your firey energy. He had meetings to head to in a little bit, and had a hungover flatmate who was still asleep, and so he wanted to push the issue aside.

Park this car for now.

Start it back up later.

“We won’t talk about it later either.” You decided and left the room.

Getting dressed in Joe’s bedroom with the door closed – because flatmate, not because angry but also, a little because angry – you realised that the feeling that overtook you inside of your chest was sadness.

Sad.

Joe pausing this conversation meant that now the topic lingered, and so now you just got to be sad all day.

Because this was all you were going to be thinking about.

But you’d talk later.

So, you burried yourself in thought – a space where you didn’t usually thrive if you were honest with yourself. It was nothing but anger, frustration, doubt and guilt up in there.

Ugh.

What was wrong with you?

You knew the issue.

Felt it deep within the pit of your stomach.

You were afraid you were wasting Joe’s time. You might just have selfishly snooped precious years from his twenties. Years he could have had with someone else who could give him the mundane family life that he was after. Was that even what he was after? Shit you weren’t even sure what he was after – Joe hadn’t been clear about his wants and needs at all. He hadn’t agreed with you or denied your accusations. If Joe was after a happy calm structured home-life with a wife and kids and pets, with bake sales, school runs and after-school-activities – it wasn’t what you were going to be giving him.

Able to? Sure.

Wanting to? Nope.

When Joe headed out, off to work, he found you to say goodbye. You pecked on the mouth, a chaste little kiss followed by a smile. It was fake, and you didn’t like it, but agreed that for now it was nicer to pretend it was all rainbows and butterflies and not threatening dark skies rumbling with thunder.

And then now, here you were.

Already dark outside, late enough for you to be in bed already, but sat on the sofa in silence instead, the air in the room thick and barren.

Not speaking.

Because speaking meant more possibly arguing.

Joe had come ‘round to your place after dinner, and you had both busied yourself - Joe finding laundry around your apartment and collecting it into a hamper, and you rummaging through piles of documents on your desk. You were painfully aware that you were keeping yourself busy with this seemingly aimless task just because talking to your boyfriend didn’t feel like it was an option.

Joe had said sorry. That should’ve ended it.

But it hadn’t.

Because you still didn’t know why Joe had started talking to you about moving out of his flat and hadn’t been clear on his hesitations of moving in with you. And it felt like this might be the beginning of the end. Your foundation was suddenly scarily shaky where it had felt rock solid before. It wasn’t real yet because it hadn’t been said aloud, so in turn you kept your hands busy and didn’t speak. And then, Joe had told you he had an early wakeup call the next morning, so he’d sleep at his place tonight. Would just be easier. The convenience to escape each other for the night should logically bring relief, but it felt awful. It flung more doubt into your brain; maybe you were just a couple that needed to be able to escape each other whenever the situation arose. The thought of grouping yourself in with couples who slept in separate bedrooms made you shudder. You wanted Joe gone, but also there still, neither wolf inside you winning the battle. But when Joe left, it was very clear which wolf you willed to win- you really wanted Joe there still. And so you texted your boyfriend a heart emoji followed by a question mark just moments after he had closed the front door behind him. The simplest way of asking a dangerous question; do you still love me? It took all of three minutes for him to walk back in.

But you didn’t know what to say.

And neither did he.

So after just looking at each other for a couple of seconds, Joe had sat down on your sofa and had started taking his shoes off.

He was staying the night. An hour and a half later, there you were. Tired, sat on your sofa, just listening to each other’s breathing.

Not speaking.

Not arguing. If you were honest the thought of heading out to visit a friend had crossed your mind more than once over the past 90 minutes. You’d complain about Joe and they’d pass you a cocktail and then they’d validate you without question, not even knowing the full story. However more so than validation, you needed comfort right now. And Joey was your Comfort Person™.

So.

You sat, and you touched, and stared into nothingness, and it was silent, and you were tired. Joe’s legs were stretched out in front of you, feet crossed on your coffee table, one ankle resting on the other. To an outsider, he looked relaxed, but you could feel the tension in his body, ribcage flared, fingers fidgeting.

Your knees were high in front of you, feet on the very edge of the sofa, toes toppling over. Joe’s arm wasn’t ‘round your shoulders where it would usually rest. Instead, you were hugging it. Just holding onto it with both of your arms, face squeezed into his bicep letting the full weight of your head rest against it, smelling his skin. Joe barely moved to look at you, wandering eyes doing the most.

He needed to scan your face a second, to read your feelings, but he came up blank.

You were busy staring into space, exhausted eyes, lost in thought but grip unwavering.

Joe kind of wanted to say something, but words escaped him like they’d done for most of that day. You could feel his eyes on you and it made you glance up, your eyes bleary and blinking. Joe was looking at his hands as they rubbed together slowly in his lap.

You know you couldn’t go to bed like this.

At the same time, there was no way you’d be able to muster up the energy, the nerve, or the vocabulary to fix this.

It didn’t help that you were convinced Joe wouldn’t say what you wanted to hear, anyway. And, if he did? He’d be lying. That would be worse.

You felt weak.

Sleepy.

And Joe was warm.

Smelled nice. You gave in and closed your eyes for a few seconds. Seconds easily became minutes.

When you blinked back into consciousness, you noticed it was because you could feel Joe move to sit up. You were unsure if you’d actually slept already, or if you just had lulled in the space between being asleep and awake for a little while. Unsure of how much time had passed, you found it impossible to keep your eyes open for long.

You felt how an arm slipped under your knees, and the arm you’d clung onto pulled itself from your limbs and pushed in between your back and the sofa. You wanted to take control and tell Joe to stop - Joe being sweet to you made your heart flutter, but being sweet was currently the worst thing he could be.

You wanted to move your legs to walk yourself to bed but everything was so much heavier than you anticipated. All you managed was a slight flutter of your eyelids and a hum that left your throat before Joe stood up, hoisting you into his chest.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Joe whispered, using his elbow to open a door and a foot to turn off the light.

Joe carefully lowered you into bed where you found the cool covers. Before Joe’d undressed and made his way over to his side of the bed to lay down next to you, you’d already moved over there. Hogged his space, because even though you were sort of fighting, you still wanted him close.

Joe got it. Understood. Stepped in and cradled your body close to his.

You decided that actually, sweet wasn’t the worst thing Joe could be right now, and you were actually craving more of it.

You sighed deeply, legs, arms and foreheads touching.

Perfect.

Let’s postpone everything forever.

You full-body-relaxed and could feel Joe do the same into the mattress next to you. Sleep was about to overtake you when you decided to open your heavy eyes for just a second to steal a glance at your boyfriend, your faces mere inches away from each other, and you found Joe staring at you. His face was all emotion; nose slightly red, wet big round eyes, and eyebrows scrunched upwards.

The sight of it panged in your chest and your face crumbled quickly too.

Without words shared, Joe hugged you tighter as he fit your head under his and let you cry into the crook of his neck as he sniffled above you.

Pathetic.

Couple of tired angry people, holding each other as they cried.

You only got a couple of sobs out, your body way too sleepy. You wanted to doze off, wake up to a better morning and leave whatever this looming emotion is in the dark of the night. “I love you,” Joe whispered into your hair, just needing to let you know. You had asked, after all. By ways of replying, you squeezed whatever body parts your hands were touching before fully drifting off to sleep. Joe had an early wake up call, and you were awake, but for all intents and purposes, you weren’t.

Joe’d been up for a minute. You’d heard the shower run, and listened to the sounds of fabric sliding over his skin as he got dressed. But you laid still, eyes closed, the bed too warm and comfy, the smell of Joe lingering on your pillow.

Then, you felt his hands on your head, fingers stroking down your jaw before a kiss got pressed to your forehead on a deep inhale.

When his hands lingered, you knew he was just looking at you sleep, taking you in for a minute.

Why won’t he tell me why he doesn’t want to live with me?

You hated how that was your first thought. Joe knew you were awake – you had laid eerily still in the same position for 15 minutes. Unheard of. You weren’t that deep of a sleeper. But he didn’t press it.

“Bye baby,” he whispered, and you felt another kiss on your temple before footsteps left your bedroom, left your hallway, and stepped out the door.

Your mind felt little clearer that day compared to the day before, and your first cup of coffee had given you an idea. The second it popped into your brain, you knew you had to go and question his flatmate.

Immediately.

Joe must have talked to him about moving out, you know, the impact of it quite severe and that. Surely there’d be more information; puzzle pieces you needed in order to fix this stupid issue that you felt had been blown out of proportion. It had made Joe cry. Joe was an easy crier though, especially when tired, but still. It was a rash decision – like all of yours seemed to be – to fly out the door and rush over to Joe’s apartment, but it was a smart one. You were stood in the middle of the flat, 7:50 am, disheveled, hair a mess, but with important questions. Joe’s flatmate was unaware of any underlying problems and had just said: “Oh yeah, he’s been looking at houses.” And you swear you could actually feel someone switch on a lightbulb in your head. Of fucking course.

This asshole.

This stupid idiot man-child didn’t want to move into your tiny little one-bedroom (even though it was nice, and it had a little garden, and it was south facing, and it was in a nice area) - this wanker wanted to buy a house. Had he tried to tell you?

You weren’t sure.

Had he been dropping massive hints you were too oblivious to pick up on?

Probably.

Had your anger ruined a lovely moment yesterday where, if you hadn’t been so mad about a compliment – a fucking compliment, you hate yourself – he would’ve asked you to move in with him?

Most definitely, you decided. His flatmate opened a drawer and tossed a couple of folders onto the table. “He’s been to see these, but I don’t think he liked any of them.” Okay, that’s it. You were going to have to murder yourself. Maybe Joe’s flatmate could help, he had been nice enough to you up until then, surely he’d lend a hand. “I’m an idiot.” You exclaimed, grabbing your phone from your pocket and opening WhatsApp. You sent Joe a photo of the folders, his flatmate in the background of the snap.

It only took a couple of seconds for your phone to ring. “I’m an IDIOT!” you were practically shouting as you answered the phone. “It was meant to be a surprise!” Joe shouted back, matching the energy. “You could’ve just said!” the dopamine-rush from hearing Joe’s laugh almost toppled you over. “But I couldn’t– I got you upset and didn’t want to steamroll over you-” “Joey, you cried.” “You were so sad!” You could hear concern in his voice, and your self-hatred grew deeper as you came to understand Joe had spent the whole evening thinking you’d been sulking about his mention of your mother. And he’d been beating himself up over it because he'd never expected the reaction you'd given.

“I’m fine!”

“You've got a mortgage." A flush of realization rushed over you.

Not only had Joe pondered all night how to make it up to you for getting you upset about a comparison he had made- an unfair one, he agreed. He had also been convinced you might not want to get rid of your apartment.

It was true, you loved your flat.

But a shitty one-bedroom or a house?

With your boyfriend?

"Hey, fuck my mortgage."

That made Joe laugh.

"This needed a careful approach.”

This man.

This.

Man.

“That was you being careful?” Joe could hear the giggle stuck in your throat.

“I tried.” And you could hear him sigh and feel his smile transmit through your phone somehow.

“Joe cried?”

Oh. His flatmate snickered. You’d forgotten his flatmate was still there.

“I thought you didn’t want to move in with me,” you confessed.

“Oh my God,” Joe whined, dots connecting.

“You are an idiot.” part two

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe x reader #joseph x reader #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joey quinn #fanfiction #angst #eddie munson #stranger things 4 #moving up

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helliontherapscallion · 4 years

Text

Adrenaline Junkie

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Ages (oldest to youngest):

Philza- 32

Technoblade- 17

Wilbur- 17

(Y/N)- 16

Tommy- 14

Pairing: platonic!sbi x winged!sibling!reader

Warnings: near death experiences, mentions of depression, OOC sbi (this is my first time writing about them)

Summary: Philza finds out about your little “habit”

Word count: 1,962

You grinned as you flew through the air with your feathers glinting in the low sunlight. You absolutely loved the feeling of freedom you got whenever you flew. It always gave you a sense of calm when you needed a break from your family. You loved them of course, but you needed a break once and a while; you often felt drained if you didn’t take some time to yourself. The cold air rushed past you as you continued to flap your wings to keep you in the air.

You could not see the ground below you as you soared higher into the clouds, weaving in and out of them. Flying higher, you steadied yourself to look at the sunset. The mixture of pinks, oranges, and yellows blended together perfectly. You always loved the sunset, it was one of the only consistent things in your life. You wished that you could stay hovering hundreds of feet above the ground, but mobs were going to be spawning soon. The last time you stayed out past sunset you had almost gotten killed by a skeleton. Your dad had given you quite the lecture after he made sure that you were alright. You still had the scars on your arms from when it tried to shoot you out of the air.

You angled yourself so you were upside down, put your arms tight to your sides, and extended your wings fully behind you. You dove closer and closer to the earth, quickly picking up speed. The wind whipped around you as you gained velocity, getting closer and closer to the ground by the millisecond. At the last second, you fully extended your wings and drastically slowed your descent to the ground. The extra velocity you had made you soar up once again before you regained control and landed safely on the ground. The adrenaline that the skydive gave you was the most exhilarating feeling you’ve ever felt, and you were always craving it. Your dad didn’t find it as fun or exhilarating as you did.

“(Y/N) (M/N) MINECRAFT.”

Your father’s voice boomed from behind you. You could tell that he was in a lecturing mood without even having to look at him. He grabbed your arm and spun you around. Grabbing your other arm, he looked you up and down with worried blue eyes. After seeing that you were alright, his gaze hardened and he took a deep breath.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”

He rattled on and on about how you could’ve killed yourself, but quite frankly you didn’t care if you died or got hurt. In your opinion, the adrenaline you got was worth it. You had three lives you could spend, and if you did die, you wanted to go out with a bang all three times. What could you say? You were an adrenaline junkie through and through.

He started to drag you inside the house mid lecture. Swinging open the door, he pulled you towards the kitchen, where the scent of fresh mushroom stew wafted from the pot on the stove. Your brothers looked at you each with their own different reactions. Techno looked as stoic as ever, Wilbur eyed you with slight disapproval, and Tommy looked at you with awe and excitement. They must’ve seen your little trick through the window.

“(Y/N) THAT WAS POGGERS! YOU WERE SUCH A BADA-”

Tommy’s excited rant was cut short as he saw the stern look on Philza’s face. After a few moments of hesitation, your brothers were making small talk with each other with Philza occasionally chiming in. Poking idly at your food, you contemplated how you should go about apologizing to your dad.

You supposed that the best route you could go was telling him that you wouldn’t do that again, but you knew you would do it again. That was the biggest adrenaline rush you’ve ever gotten and you were already craving it again. You couldn’t lie to your dad, your wings always gave you away by twitching uncomfortably whenever you lied. On the other hand, telling him that you felt empty when you didn’t have adrenaline coursing through your veins was not an option. He already has enough to worry about with working to provide for four teenagers. Deciding that your best bet was to lie to him and hope for the best, you zoned back into the conversation around you. Tommy was ranting about how he had broken his favorite sword dueling Techno.

“-do you have any idea how long it took me to find that enchantment, Techno?”

Techno huffed slightly in amusement. “Actually I do because I helped you find that enchantment. We found it in the village together, remember?”

“Tommy,” Philza said tiredly, “we can get you another enchanted sword. Techno, you need to be more gentle with your little brother. You have to remember he’s three years younger than you, so he has less experience in dueling.”

Tommy grumbled to himself, busying himself with shoveling food in his mouth. Wilbur glanced at him with disgust.

“Do you have to eat like that, Tommy? It’s disgusting.”

“Well, Wilbur, it’s not my fault I’m hungry.”

“You’re eating like we don’t feed you.”

You usually enjoyed it whenever your siblings argue back and forth like this, but lately it didn’t make you feel anything. You didn’t feel much anymore if you weren’t pulling off impulsive stunts. Of course, you hid it from your family and acted like you did before. It was relatively easy since you were naturally a quiet person. You thought you were doing a great job at it, you pride yourself on your acting skills.

Dinner went by fast without anything notable happening. Since it was your night to clean up, you got to work after everyone parted ways for the night. You stacked the dishes left on the dinner table and got to work washing them. Luckily, since you lived with three teenage boys, you never had to deal with leftovers. You subconsciously stretched and twitched your wings, feeling restless without feeling the wind moving through your feathers. After you got done with putting the dishes away, you took a deep breath and set out on your search for Philza.

Walking into the living room, you saw Techno sitting near the fireplace reading one of his mythology books. “Hey, Tech. Do you know where Dad is? I need to talk to him.”

Without looking up from his book, he responded in his usual monotone voice. “Yeah, he’s up in his room. I think he’s going to bed early.” He paused for a second before looking up at you with sincerity. “You know, he was terrified when he saw you earlier. He thought that you weren’t gonna stop yourself in time. Hell, we all thought you were gonna die.”

That made you feel guilty. He already had to deal with providing and raising you four and he didn’t need anything else to worry about. You felt your wings droop slightly as you sighed.

“...Thanks, T. G’night, love you.”

You started to speed walk to Philza’s room without giving him time to respond. You needed to apologize to him and fast. Out of all your siblings, you were always the one to hate conflict and would always apologize first whenever you got into a disagreement with anyone. You were always the pacifist.

Walking past Tommy in the hallway, he tried to stop you to talk to you, but you ignored him with a dismissive wave of your wing. You heard him mumbling to himself as he started to walk down the stairs, probably to challenge Techno to a rematch. You nervously fluttered your wings, feathers occasionally brushing against the walls and causing you to shiver slightly at the small touch. Your hands were shaking slightly as you took a steadying deep breath and knocked on Philza’s door. Hearing his tired “come in”, you slowly opened his door. He situated himself so that he was sitting on the edge of his bed and gestured for you to sit next to him.

“Hey, Dad. I-I just wanted to say sorry for worrying you earlier. If I knew that it would stress you out, I wouldn’t have done it.” You sat next to him.

He sighed as he wrapped an arm across your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “I don’t care if it stressed me out. You could’ve gotten killed from a fall at that height. You could have lost a life. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t open your wings in time.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Then why’d you do it if you knew that you could’ve gotten yourself killed? I just want to understand why you would pull a stunt like that, I’d never expect you out of all of your siblings to do something so dangerous.”

You took a deep breath as you contemplated your next words. You really wanted to tell him about how you felt empty without putting yourself in danger. You wanted to tell him that you didn’t feel like yourself anymore. Unconsciously, your wings started to twitch and pull themselves closer to your body.

You jumped when you felt something else wrap around you. You looked back and saw black feathers. Looking back up at your father, he looked at you with a concerned expression.

“Take a deep breath, you’re shaking hun.”

You looked down at your hands and to your surprise, they were shaking. You took a few deep breaths and clasped your hands together tightly while Philza rubbed comforting circles on your back.

“...It’s just that, I haven’t been feeling like myself lately, if that makes any sense. It’s like I can’t feel anything anymore without doing stupid things that could get me killed. It wasn’t the first time I’ve dived like that. One time I lost control and almost flew into lava-filled ravine.”

“...How long have you felt like this?”

“A few months now.”

Philza felt his heart break, how did he not notice that you were different for months? You could’ve gotten yourself hurt or permanently maimed yourself and it would’ve been his fault because he didn’t notice your mood shift.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t notice sooner.”

“It’s not your fault, Dad. I didn’t tell you anything was wrong. Please don’t blame yourself.”

“We can help you find something that’ll help you. Something less dangerous.”

“We?”

“Your brothers and I. They’ve been listening this entire time, weren’t you, boys?”

You heard shuffling and muffled voices arguing with each other before the door opened to reveal your sheepish brothers. Wordlessly, they all filed into the room. Tommy grabbed your shoulders and yanked you into a tight hug. You felt Wilbur hug your other side before he pulled Techno into the group hug also. You felt feathers tickle your cheek as Philza joined, wrapping his giant wings around you all. The family hasn’t had a group hug since you all started to hit your teenage years. For the first time in a while, you felt happy without risking your life.

After that night, you were right in your assumption that you’d be grounded (literally and metaphorically) from flying for a while while your family worked hard to find something safe that gave you a distraction. Soon, Wilbur found a book about the intricacies of redstone working and you were hooked. Sure, your family was rambunctious and a strange group, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

#sbi x reader #winged reader #sibling reader #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #wilbur soot x reader #tommyinnit x reader #tw: near death #tw: depression #tw: swearing

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buckys-black-dress · 3 years

Text

all the signs i don't read

a/n: guys!!! I'M OFFICIALLY DONE WITH MY FIRST YEAR OF UNI! i'm sooo happy to finally be done, i can focus on writing more for you guys this summer :) here's a lil somethin' i whipped up after my last final today. enjoy! xoxo, ali <3

wc: 2.5k words

[bucky barnes x fem!reader]

read part two here!

You never thought anything of it.

You never thought anything of it when every time someone would come into the room, Bucky would act like he couldn't stand being touched by you.

It was little things, at first.

You would be in the kitchen in the morning, making coffee for him and you. He would be holding you from behind, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. And then Steve, or someone else, would walk into the room.

And he would shake off your touch, like you were poison.

It never hurt less.

But it's not like you could ever make a scene out of it, or anything. Because nobody even knew you and Bucky had been dating for the past two months.

You had no one to turn to in this situation. No one knew you two were together, and you kind of messed this up for yourself when you agreed to all of this at the beginning of your relationship. Bucky had told you he wasn't really ready for PDA, and you had told him, in a haste, that it was fine.

But after two months of extremely close calls, your patience was wearing thin, and you know it sounds bad. But you've been extremely careful with him, always asking asking him if everything was okay before going further with anything involving physical touch. You always made sure you weren't crossing any boundaries, but it was starting to get frustrating.

You couldn't understand why Bucky could get all touchy-feely with Steve and Natasha when he felt like it, but was practically gagging at your touch.

You were currently cuddled up on his bed, watching a movie. You were on cloud nine, basking in the warmth of your boyfriend's touch. This was one of the rare instances where he would let you get this close. It was nice, and you made sure to always take advantage of it if the situation presented.

You could feel Bucky's gaze fixed upon you as the colors of the TV screen reflected onto your skin. Your eyes dip down to his, and a warm smile graces your face as your eyes meet.

You couldn't ever put into words how happy Bucky made you. You had liked him for so long before he even asked you out, and you were over the moon the day he had brought up wanting to take you out.

It was another night of dinner with just the two of you. Everyone else was on a mission, and since you two were the only ones left, you had decided to make the decision to make food for the both of you.

"James?" Your voice resounded through the empty kitchen and dining room.

"Yeah, honey?" He answered, painting your face red in a blush.

"Do you... just- nevermind." You shake your head, looking back down at your plate.

"Hey, look at me." He says, putting his hand over yours. "I was actually tryin' to figure out how to ask you this..."

Your brows are pulled together, wondering what he was talking about.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me, James." You reassure him. You were grateful that he was such a good friend to you, and that he trusted you enough to open up to you.

"I was wonderin'... would you like to... go out on a date with me sometime?" He asks, holding your gaze.

You're sure you look like a fish out of water right now, your mouth opening and closing in shock. He wanted to ask you out?

"I just... I like spending time with you, I like how you call me James, I like how you don't judge me and how long it's taken me to get comfortable here. I like how kind you are, and how you've always asked the others to be patient with me, so... would you like to go out on a date with me?" He held such hope in his eyes.

"I... I would love to, James." You reply after a moment of silence.

"I'm so happy you said yes." He smiles warmly. "But just... don't mention it to anyone? I don't want Steve or Sam on my case. You know how they can be sometimes." He smiles, and you nod at his request.

"Of course, James. I don't ever want to make you feel uncomfortable, we can go at your pace." Your tone was soft and understanding.

"Thanks, doll. You don't understand how much it means to me." Bucky returns your soft smile, and scoots his seat closer to yours.

His gaze was fixed on you, and while you were playing over the time in your head, Bucky leans in and pecks your lips gently.

"Hm, what're ya thinkin' of, honey?" He questions, sensing your mind was elsewhere.

"I was just thinking of that night when... when you first asked me on a date. How sweet you were." You smile coyly, leaning back in for another kiss.

Your stomach fluttered at Bucky's hum of approval at your actions. He deepened the kiss, motioning for you to fully sit on his lap. Bucky gently placed each of your legs on the sides of his thighs, his hands grasping your hips.

As he stared from your eyes to your lips, back up to your eyes, you felt lightheaded. This was the most intimate the two of you have gotten so far, and you feel the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Soon enough, your lips are back on his, moulding onto his like you two were made for each other. Although you two loved watching movies together in each others' rooms, (to avoid prying eyes, of course) you have never been so close to him before like this.

You felt yourself getting high on his affection, and once you had it, you didn't think you could ever go without it.

As Bucky's grip on you tightens, your hands move up to his shoulders, also moving to grasp them. Your hips move with a mind of their own, grinding against his lap.

You didn't think anything of it, but Bucky freezes at the action. His hands stop their gentle strokes along your sides. His lips pause their actions, and you feel him pulling away.

Both physically and emotionally.

"James, is everything alright?" You ask wearily, truly perplexed. Everything was going so well...

"I just... I can't do this, Y/N. I- I'm so sorry... I can't do this with you." He leans back, and limply moves his hands to flop onto the bed at his sides.

"O-Oh," Your voice breaks as you process his words. He didn't want you. This has all been a joke to him. Even in private, your touch made him uncomfortable.

"I... I have to go." You slide off Bucky's lap, gathering your belongings from the end of his bed and rushing out the door.

Without even a glance behind you, the door slams, and Bucky is sat dumbfounded on his bed. Why did I do that? He thinks to himself. Why did I say that to her?

As tears filled your eyes, you just pray that no one will see you. Unfortunately, your room was on another floor, and you think the stairwell would be the best option to avoid people at this point in time.

But of course, as fate has it, Steve is taking the stairs up. You can tell he's probably just returned from his nightly run, as he's sweating through his shirt.

You quickly wipe your eyes, hoping they look too puffy. Your nose was probably red, too, but just sniffle to clear it.

At the sound of your nose, Steve's head shoots up. Your eyes meet, and you plaster on possibly the fakest smile you've ever produced.

"Steve! How was your run?" You ask enthusiastically, trying to make it seem like you were just fine.

"Yeah, it was good. Took a bit of a longer route today. What are you doing here? You never take the stairs." He asks with a raised brow.

"I uh... I was watching a movie, and I had some snacks that were sitting a little heavy on my stomach. I thought a flight of stairs or two could do me some good." You shrug, trying to look as unsuspecting as possible.

"Are you sure you're alright? Your eyes seem a little red." Steve counters. He could feel that something was off.

"Y-Yup, I was watching a sad movie, you know how I get." You give a fake laugh, turning back around. "I have to head back, but good talk, Steve. Enjoy the rest of your night!" You practically yell while walking away from him.

The door of the stairs close behind you in a haste, and you take a moment to take a deep breath. You hated lying, but it's not like you could've said anything to Steve. He had no clue about anything having to do with you and Bucky.

While you locked yourself away to your room for the rest of the night, Bucky was still trying to process the events. How in the matter of a minute, he managed to shift your entire relationship. He was kicking himself, trying to figure out how to fix this. He couldn't seek out advice from Steve like he normally would in situation like this, or ask Natasha. Usually, she was the one to help him when it came to women these days.

But now, he was on his own.

And he was fucked.

So, he had two options.

One, go to Steve. Confess everything; dating you for the past two months, admit he was an idiot and didn't want anyone to know. Realize it would've been fine if everyone knew because everyone loved you. Try to win you back.

Or two, try to get you back on his own. And let's be honest, that option was not looking too good. Clearly, Bucky was clueless in this topic.

So now, he was left to stew.

That night, you drifted into a dreamless sleep with a heavy heart and a tear-soaked pillow.

The next few days were... rough, to say the least.

You could barely drag yourself out of bed. You would leave your warm blankets and pillows around eleven each day, which was unheard of for you. Natasha and Wanda would stop you on your way to the kitchen, and try to pry the problem out of you.

Sweetie, this isn't healthy for you.

Honey, just tell us what's wrong. We're here for you.

Y/N, we're worried about you. We love you, but you look horrible.

That last on made you crack a smile, but shook your head and headed in to make yourself a coffee.

For the first time in two months, you were only making coffee for you.

And fuck, was it killing you.

You so badly wanted someone to wrap you up in a hug, rub your back, and tell you it was okay. To tell you your touch was comforting, that they wanted to be close to you.

But of course, fairytales weren't real. You were alone again, and it seemed that it would stay that way for a long time.

No matter what you did, all you could hear in your head was James' words. I'm sorry, I can't do this with you. With you. With you. With you.

And you couldn't help but wonder. What was it about you that was so repulsive to him? You were understanding from the beginning. You just thought he wasn't ready for PDA, that he just wanted his privacy, you understood.

But what you didn't get was how James could have asked you out on a date, how he could've kissed you, for fuck's sake, and yet be so ashamed to be seen with you.

So you allowed yourself to only wallow for five days. You only gave yourself these next five days to feel sorry for yourself, whatever you needed to be pathetic for a few days, but that's it. After that, no more.

You were tired of feeling like you weren't good enough for anyone, like you were a burden. You were an amazing person, and if some people couldn't see that, it wasn't your problem.

You were done.

During your five days, you hadn't seen Bucky once. And of course, as your luck would have it, day two brought you your ex-boyfriend.

All in his glory, in the kitchen.

With not one, but two mugs of coffee.

His eyes meet yours, and you see a light in his. But you made sure you were quick to put that out.

"Do you need something, Bucky?" You all but sneer, and his soft smile drops.

"I just... I was about to bring you some coffee. Just how you like it, iced and black." He tries the smile again.

"No thank you, I'd rather make it myself." You turn your stare to the coffee machine, grabbing a capsule and sticking it in the machine before sliding it shut.

Bucky just stands there, dumbfounded. Again.

This seems to be a trend with you.

"Y/N, come on. Let's just sit down and talk about this. Let's go to your room, or maybe mine-" He begins, but you couldn't be bothered with him anymore.

"You know what, Bucky? No. If you want to talk, we can do it out here, for anyone to see. What are you afraid of? Me? Scared that someone will see you with me? God forbid, someone sees that you like me, right? God fucking forbid someone actually is proud-" your voice cracks in an ugly way, and even though you don't want to seem weak in front of him, you continue, "proud to be with me. I gave myself time. Time to understand why on Earth you seemed so... so disgusted to be with me. So ashamed.

And I got over. I am not going to let you make me feel like I'm anything less of a great person, and anyone would be lucky to have me. So screw you, and your secret relationships. I'm done."

By the end of your speech, tears had definitely made it down your cheeks, and your coffee was long forgotten as you turned to move out of the kitchen.

Bucky's eyes had widened at your words, realizing the weight of his mistake. He had made you feel so small, so repulsive and you thought all those things about yourself were true.

But they couldn't have been further from it.

Bucky loved you. He had only had you for two months, but in that short time, he was so hellbent on keeping you a secret. On showing the others that he wasn't weak, that he was still a big, tough guy. That he didn't need a girl to comfort him, or to help him through the nightmares.

But you were the best thing he ever had, and now you were slipping away.

But if Bucky is anything, he's a determined man. And he's determined on getting you back.

a/n: aw shit, what's gonna happen?? don't worry, i would never leave y'all hanging like this. part 2 will be coming shortly :) in the meantime, enjoy whatever this is. love, ali <3

read part two here!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky x female reader #crack fic #teehee

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sarasapen · 3 years

Text

Among the Blues and Greens

Another installation of the Little One series.

Summary: Meditation often allowed for Jedi to discover and learn about their thoughts and feelings, aiding them in solving their problems. This meditation session unfortunately reveals more than you’d like.

Or the one in which Obi-Wan’s Padawan realises she loves him.

Warnings: Language, meditation, slow dancing, yearning, revelations, forehead kisses, Past Obitine relationship mentions

Word Count: 3k

Star Wars Masterlist

-------

You were a fraud.

Whenever you felt particularly emotional, you meditated, as any good Jedi was supposed to do. Before daybreak, the gardens at the Sundari Royal Palace were relatively uninhabited, at least by people. You didn’t mind the plants and animals. Their energies were soothing, incorrupt, they just were. That’s how you find yourself there, for the third day in a row, trying desperately to calm the tempest that’s seen fit to take up permanent residence in your mind.

Why were you a fraud? A fake? A poser?

Because here you were, years of training under your belt, pretending to meditate. Fraud.

It was an old ‘trick’ that young Padawans- very young Padawans, you added- resorted to when they were made to meditate. Sitting there with your eyes closed, trying to keep your breathing even. No actual self-exploration or deep diving into your mind, just putting up a facade that any force insensitive being wouldn’t see through.

Unfortunately for you, Obi-Wan Kenobi was Force sensitive.

“You’re pretending,” He muses, lowering himself beside you and crossing his legs, assuming the same position you were in. You keep your eyes closed, forcing your breaths to remain even as if he hadn’t even spoken. He sees right through it, amusement weaving into the deep blues that were his signature.

Oftentimes you wondered what it was like, to be in the middle of all that was him. Observing one’s signature from the outside was very much different than actually experiencing it. Each individual’s signature was different, and his signature was always so wonderful… You wanted to learn more about it, about him. But you knew you wouldn’t ever dare to be brash enough to even brush your signature against his, let alone delve into him fully.

His signature morphs, from the vibrant, rich hums to a gentle, soothing wave. He’s meditating.

You scowl.

He’s barely been sitting down for a minute, and he’s already accomplished what you’ve been trying to do for the past three days.

“Focus your thoughts on something,” He suggests quietly, sending out a wash of calm over your prickling irritation. He’s guiding you, as he used to do years ago when you were a young and distractible little thing, and you let him.

You’d let him do anything.

You’re swept backwards into the deep abyss that’s your mind, and you fall freely, watching Obi-Wan’s signature withdraw slowly from yours. It’s like watching waves upon the shore, gently sweeping backwards and away, taking with it such tiny, essential parts of you while simultaneously shaping you into a thing to behold. It was always, before anything else, soothing.

He didn’t like studying others’ energies too closely. It was a common trait amongst blue sabers, whilst reading people's energies were crucial for the Jedi, studying them at great lengths could often prove to be uncomfortable. But yours, he had said. He wouldn’t mind spending days traversing the inside of your mind if you’d let him.

When you were younger, you’d asked him what your signature looked like to him. He said it was a mass of shades of green that were so beautiful he doubted the mere names of the colours or any other descriptive words would be able to do them any justice.

Beautiful, was the word he’d always use.

And he was…gentle, and kind, and smart. You exhale slowly, no longer stiff in your posture. He’s always been so patient with you, even with his occasional sarcastic comment. The perfect Jedi.

Even as a youngling, you’d hear exaggerated stories from Padawans slightly older than you, or, at least, he insisted they were exaggerated. A few years into your training with him, you began to think that maybe the far-fetched stories weren’t so far-fetched after all.

You’re so lucky, younglings would say shortly after you had become his Padawan. After all, Master Kenobi’s previous Padawan was the Chosen One. You’d have to be something special to attract his attention.

And you were lucky. But not for the glory and the awe that sparkled in people’s eyes at the mention of his name. It was for his undivided attention on you, his genuine interest in the things you enjoyed, his efforts to shift your training to aid in what you wanted to specialise in, even if it was wildly different from what he was good at.

Not that there was much he wasn’t good at.

You loved the way he carried himself, not with arrogance or pride (both of which you thought would have been deserved), but with a humble sort of almost shyness. You loved that he pushed to do better, to be better, not for himself but for you and Anakin. You loved the way he conducted himself with people, even those considered to be the lowest of the lows, he treated them with so much respect and kindness.

Perhaps it was just that he was a decent human being, but that didn’t mean you loved him any less.

You loved the way he’d throw in a sharp remark when facing an adversary, or the way he’d stand tall even in the face of-

Hold on.

You loved him.

You loved him. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

“What are you thinking about?” Obi-Wan calls from beside you, his voice no louder than a low murmur, and it still makes you flinch. “You’ve grown tense.”

Play dumb. You could do that. Just… blurt out something random and leave it at that, and then you can-

“She seems nice.”

FUCK. Not that fucking dumb oh stars above you were so fucking screwed-

“She… The Duchess?”

“Yeah, your Duchess.” Oh kriffing hells, if you could just. stop. talking.

“Duchess Satine is not my Duchess,” His force signature dips suddenly, as if he’s reeled everything back into himself. It pulls you along with it, and you can no longer pretend that you’re meditating. Not with the way your Master turns to face you, studying your features with a concerned curiosity. You tense up again, keeping your eyes trained on a lone tree, a distance away. There’s a caterpillar crawling on one of the branches, and you focus on that. You can tell that he can tell. He’s always been so good at reading you.

“You…” He starts, but stops himself, straightening and regarding you once again.

“Sometimes I find myself having to meditate more than usual. Even up to a few times a day, if I’m…” Obi-Wan’s gaze flickers down from your eyes for just a split second, a movement so quick he doesn’t even realise he’s done it. “Distracted.”

There’s a stutter in your signature, one you try to hide by slamming up your walls, but the brush of Obi-Wan’s hand against your arm has you faltering. The waves of him approach slowly once again, waiting patiently beside the storm that’s your signature.

“What’s gotten you so tense?” He probes gently, the weight of his hand against your shoulder mirroring the gentle reassuring taps of his signature against yours.

“Do you love her?”

You know what. There’s a ledge. Right there. You could just jump off. If you were dead you wouldn’t be facing this amount of embarrassment.

“...I used to,” Obi-Wan reveals, and his admission surprises himself more than it does you. Not that he wasn’t aware of what the extent of feelings for Satine used to be, but admitting it, out loud? It was something he had never done before.

“Used to?”

“It was a lifetime ago, when I was still a Padawan.”

It’s strange. Neither of you want to continue talking, to keep delving into dark and murky uncharted territory, between the blurred depths of what’s allowed and what’s forbidden. It scares you. It scares him too.

“So… what? You decided to give her up?”

He should say something about the way of the Jedi, that attachments were forbidden, and that had anyone else known, they would’ve expected him to leave Satine. If it were anyone else asking him this, he would’ve said it, accompanied by a deserved lecture on subtlety and manners.

But you’re the exception.

You’d always be his only exception.

So, instead, Obi-Wan says, “The Duchess, while a remarkable woman, has a very different outlook on life than I do, even back then.”

There's a stretch of silence that he feels like he needs to fill. “Besides, it gave me the chance to meet people even more remarkable.”

“Not many people can compare to the Duchess of Mandalore,” You mutter, closing your eyes to block out the sight of him when he gets to his feet.

“No,” Obi-Wan agrees. “Although the Duchess couldn’t come close to comparing to you.”

And with that heart-stopping revelation, he leans down and presses a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Focus,” Obi-Wan whispers in your ear, and then he’s gone.

Now you really couldn’t concentrate.

——

“Breathe,” Obi-Wan had instructed you, sitting beside your fidgety body with his own long-since perfected form.

It was the second week into your Padawan training, and it had taken Obi-Wan twenty three minutes to get you to sit still. Not including the sixteen minutes it took to get you past the normally three minute walk from library to your room, or the seven minutes it took for you to pad over to him and sit beside him. Not for your lack of trying, Obi-Wan mused, watching you fidget once again.

Your eyes fly open at his words.

“If I stop breathing during meditation will I die?”

Yeah, okay, that one was on him. It takes a lot of control for Obi-Wan not to choke on his overwhelming surprise at your words.

“Meditation can only occur when you stop speaking, little one,” He hints, keeping his posture straight. Thirty two minutes now, he’s been sitting in this position, not meditating, but focused on your wild little signature.

“Oh, yeah,” You concede, shifting again and screwing your eyes shut.

Master Kenobi, the whisper-shout in his head very nearly startles him, and Obi-Wan can’t keep pretending his focus is impeccable. He turns to regard you with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. If I stop breathing during meditation, will I die?

Again, to your credit, you weren’t exactly… speaking.

Perhaps that’s why, with a self-indulgent smile, he sends back a quick no.

Okay, you accept happily, shifting again in your seat. Your early days were so much like Anakin’s. Both of you, filled with a curiosity and outlook on the world that only children could view, and it baffled him to no end that both of you viewed him in exactly the same way.

You just accepted everything he said without much thought, readily eager to believe that your Master was always right, because what else could he ever be? It was perhaps that specific period of time during both his Padawans’ training that Obi-Wan was the most stressed. The first few years were the years he felt as though he could disappoint you the most, to fail to protect you and teach you and nurture you.

He didn’t fail. He didn’t even come close. You’d tell him if you could. Anakin would tell him too. But it just wasn’t a conversation Jedis had.

And…there.

You’re not meditating. Obi-Wan opens his mouth to say something, but the words die in his throat when he feels you oh so carefully reach out your signature. He follows along at a distance, careful not to alert you, and he watches as your signature gingerly approaches the plant situated outside your apartment door.

The plant. You were connecting with the plant.

You’re calm, he realises. Nearly ridiculously so, if he didn’t know any better he’d think your signature was that of a fully trained knight. The spurts and bursts and branches that were usually your energy flutter gently down, acting obedient and serene.

It’s… for lack of a better word, beautiful.

So with your thoughts centered around that little plant outside, all Obi-Wan has to do is give you just a little nudge that blocks out all other distractions for you- maybe it’s cheating, but he wants to see what will happen.

And then you’re meditating.

——

“It’s the first time I’ve worn a dress!” Swishing the fabrics of the skirt around you, you’re easily entranced by the movement. It’s a pretty dress, courtesy of the Mandalorian court, floaty and airy with barely there off-the shoulder sleeves. It reveals more of you than Jedi robes would ever, but you’re so enraptured with such innocent curiosity that Obi-Wan doesn’t even try to suppress the affectionate smile he gives you.

“You look lovely,” He responds honestly, pushing himself off the couch and taking slow steps towards you.

“I feel like a… like a…” You pause, glancing up from your skirts to fix your eyes on him, mind racing.

“Like a?” Obi-Wan prompts.

“Like a cloud!” You settle for, twirling around as if to emphasise your floaty feeling.

“A cloud?” He confirms, voice laced with amusement. He takes your hand, twirling you around once more through your giggles.

“Yeah.”

“Well, you’re the prettiest cloud I’ve ever seen,” Folding his hand over your own, he steps into your space mid-twirl, his other hand coming to press flat against your back. He doesn’t know what propelled him to do this, to press you against him and pull you into little steps around the room. The giggles he gets from you are enough to diminish any second thoughts he gets, so he hums softly, pressing his cheek to the top of your head.

Your little impromptu dance session is made to end as quickly as it started, a knock on his door reminding the both of you the reason for such fanciful dressing.

A dinner.

It was exciting to you, as most off-world mission events were, so different from the usual routine of your life on Coruscant. Your excitement is blindingly obvious, and yet Obi-Wan, who’s long since tired of having to accept invitations lest the Jedi be perceived as discourteous, Obi-Wan says nothing at all. He gives you a warm smile and gestures for you to move towards the door.

And oh, what a dinner it was. The food was marvelous, the company a little less so, but the moments you’d glance up at your Master to find him already watching you made up for it. If only he weren’t seated so far away… and so close to the Duchess. You don’t turn your head in their direction again.

Apparently a royal dinner on Mandalore was not just dinner, so after an hour of sitting at a table several seats away from your Master and surrounded by boring politicians, you’re ushered into a ballroom. Several ask for your hand to dance, but you turn them down with a polite smile and even politer excuse. You want to dance, you do. Just… not with them.

Then you see her.

She had changed her dress, and she was gorgeous. Elegant and beautiful and carrying herself with such grace even on the dancefloor, she looked every bit the Duchess she was. You sort of hated her.

“The prettiest, huh?” You mutter bitterly under your breath, taking a moment to try to calm yourself. You take another breath when you turn to face Obi-Wan, expecting his eyes to be on her. Everyone’s eyes were on her.

He’s looking at you.

You immediately curse yourself out for the snide comment, hating that you’ve revealed yourself, your insecurities, that he’s going to admonish you for a silly little comment that just slipped out.

Instead, he holds his hand out towards you, and bends down a little in a bow.

“If I may have this dance, my dear?” The words come out as a low murmur, and even with the loud applause of everyone around you signalling the end of the Duchess’ dance, you hear him perfectly. Your cheeks are flushed and you’re trying impossibly hard to keep your breathing even as you slide your hand into his, letting him lead you to the middle of the dance floor.

It’s strange, you think.

The two of you have been in arguably far closer quarters than you were in now, with a decent amount of space between your bodies, joined only by your hand in his and his other hand on your waist. You’ve trained together, sparred together, been forced into close confines in the middle of missions and on occasion even slept in the same bed together.

Obi-Wan’s grip on your hand tightens, the tips of his fingers skimming up your back and brushing tantalisingly against the skin that’s uncovered by the dress.

No, this… this, in front of a whole room of people from all over the galaxy, this was far more intimate than anything ever before. It’s almost as if you’ve been transported back in time just a couple of hours ago, when it was just him and you in the privacy of your quarters.

“The prettiest,” he confirms, voice low in your ear. Your breath hitches at his statement and all its implications. “It’s not even a competition.”

Good things, as all things do, must eventually come to an end. Obi-Wan guides a slightly tipsy and very giggly you back towards your room, laughing despite himself when you trip over your own two feet. The last thing he wants after a successful mission is for you to get concussed by falling.

He bends and effortlessly sweeps you into your arms, letting you swing your legs in the air. It’s not the first time he’s been in this position with you. Perhaps he’s carried you like this a little too often. His thoughts don’t linger on that topic for long.

You change out of your dress and sit cross-legged in front of him, letting him brush out your hair and pull it back into a braid for you to sleep in, actions so practised that they’re not even spoken about.

And on the floor of your room, discarded almost carelessly at the end of the bed, lay two weapons beside each other, one green, and one blue.

-----

The next one will be Obi-Wan’s revelation ;)

-----

Obi-Wan taglist:

@allinmymind @ginger-swag-rapunzel @mugoi-usagi @babymango-writes @fluffyhales @whinsical-ash @filthy-thots @altarsw @mando831 @ruleroftides @soft-and-lush @softlikefairydust @bumblegadget @stafskislava @torihester @shedobeclownin @satikryze @buwnni @mando-amando @mrskenobi19 @butch-medusae @fandomtrxshh @a-c-lee @neji85 @reejero @silverpuppi @thereluctantherosrose @shinybananapastanickel @hey-there-angels @grumpymuffinmama @hufflingpuffling-blog1 @kyle9no @qt-ane @arsowon @aesthelliec @lovelyweepingrebel @marvelranger @lovelylostminds

#obi wan fluff #little one #little one series #fluff #obi wan is in love but doesn’t realise it #slow dancing #meditation #obi wan kenobi #obi wan fic #obi wan fanfiction #reader #padawan reader #master x padawan #dancing #ewan mcgregor #Star Wars #Star Wars prequels

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thevindicativevordan · 3 years

Note

Why isn't Nightwing a bigger deal? He has all of Batman's skills and Superman's faith in humanity and is arguably the most beloved hero in the DCU, but most people seem to know him either as the leader of the N̶o̶t̶ ̶J̶L̶ Teen Ttians or just Robin.

Thank you for asking me about Nightwing, I've been wanting to write a piece about him for a while now. The short version is that everyone who claims Dick becoming Nightwing was him "moving out of Batman's shadow and becoming his own man" is completely wrong.

Dick Grayson is a fantastic character, someone who saved Bruce Wayne in-universe both by forcing Batman to grow up a bit, and the countless times he saved Batman's life as his partner whether as Robin or Nightwing. Dick saved Batman in the real world as well, hard to believe but Batman was actually in danger of being cancelled due to poor sales early on. Enter Robin, a young daredevil audience stand in the creators hoped would get kids interested in reading Batman. And it worked! Sales on Batman doubled once Robin showed up which is crazy to think about, but Dick Grayson has always been a popular character. Cartoons like Teen Titans, Batman: The Animated Series, and The Batman only helped grow his audience.

Character-wise, Dick Grayson really does fill a number of crucial roles in the DCU. For Batman, Dick is proof that Batman is a positive force. Meeting Batman helped change Dick for the better, helped him heal after his parents died. With Dick, Batman can take comfort in knowing that yes, he has made a difference in the world for at least one orphan boy, which is all he wanted when he lost his parents himself. To the wider DCU, Dick is a friendly face who convinces others that Batman is competent and not a complete asshole. He took this kid in, trained him to be one of the best heroes the DCU has seen, and did it all out of the kindness of his heart. That someone like Dick can confront the evils of Gotham and not break means there's still hope for that city. As Robin, Dick has led the Titans and is an icon in his own right as The Sidekick, the original, the one every other Robin is built around copying or contrasting. The one all other superhero sidekicks are drawing on as a basis. As Robin Dick Grayson is very much on Batman's level.

Just not as Nightwing. As Nightwing, Dick has been a second rate Daredevil which means he's a third rate Batman (fully prepared to get hate for this but I've read and enjoyed the Miller and Bendis DD runs so I feel entitled to my opinion). A typical Nightwing run tends to go like this: Moving to Bludhaven (which is Gotham... but WORSE!), Dick Grayson usually enrolls in a pointless job we don't care about in order to provide some meaningless soap opera drama that doesn't go anywhere. Patrolling the city as Nightwing, he fights a variety of bad guys who are usually rather lame and unthreatening, with his big bad being a Kingpin knockoff called Blockbuster. Villains are fought, long running plotlines are set up, then everything is abandoned because it's Batfamily event time, and Dick has to run back to Gotham in order to play sidekick again. Usually his involvement is completely superfluous and it would've been better if the writer had gotten to opt out. By the time we finally get back to Nightwing's solo plotlines, the audience has usually ceased to care and the run gets cut short.

That's how Nightwing has been since the New 52 at least. Anyone who thinks that's "becoming their own man" is out of their mind. Dick is so thoroughly in Batman's shadow that he got shot in the head and spent a longer time as "Ric" which everyone fucking hated and sold like shit, than he did as Agent Grayson which was extremely well-received. Reiterating: Ric went on longer than Grayson because of a fucking Batman plotpoint Tom King wanted where Bruce was sad and cut off from the Batfamily because of Dick getting shot. Not just calling out King either, how many times was Kyle Higgins Nightwing run derailed because of Scott Snyder's crossovers? Or how about that entire run getting dumped to the side because Johns wanted to out Dick during Forever Evil, a Justice League/Lex Luthor story? DC has repeatedly made their contempt for Nightwing clear, he's Batman's sidekick still in their eyes, and he serves whatever story role the Batman writer wants.

Hell his best stories tend to have been the ones where he's not Nightwing. He was Robin in a good chunk of the Wolfman/Perez New Teen Titans run. Morrison really showcased his depth as a character when they wrote him as Batman, their time with Dick under the cowl was actually one of the first Batman runs I ever read, and no Nightwing run has ever matched it in terms of quality in my humble opinion. Scott Snyder's work with DickBats also was a high point for the character, showing Dick as competent and examining his relationship with Gotham and the Gordons. King and Seeley gave him one of the best comic runs with Grayson, a series where he wasn't even a "superhero" technically! When it comes to actual pre-New 52 Nightwing runs that are highly recommended where he *is* Nightwing, there's Chuck Dixon and uhhhhhhh... Tomasi's brief run before Dick became Batman? It's not exactly an overwhelming list.

Look there has been good work done with Nightwing, I'm not claiming there hasn't been. Tim Seeley wrote a great run with Nightwing Rebirth. Seeley fleshed out Dick's Rogues Gallery with cool new ones like Raptor, he brought back old foes like Dr. Hurt (why oh why couldn't you have brought back Flamingo too?), he gave Dick's world some character it solely needed. Bludhaven under Seeley is pretty much the only time I've really felt like it lived up to being Dick's city.

The problem with fictional cities is you have to put in the work to give them the character of real cities. You have to make the cities feel like characters in their own right. Gotham is the best example of this, it's a character all it's own, one that tells you a lot about Batman and his cast. In contrast Bludhaven is usually one of the worst. Any place that wants to claim to be worse than the city that is built over the gate to hell and gets wrecked every other month by the Arkham freaks has to really put in the work to compete. Simply put, Bludhaven typically fails utterly. There's nothing about it that makes you really buy it's worse than Gotham, I mean does anyone really think Nightwing's Rogues wouldn't get their lunches eaten by Batman's? No, no one genuinely buys that. When Bludhaven claims to be worse, it just comes across as tryhard, an attribute that does end up telling you about Nightwing in unintentional ways.

So Seeley didn't do that. Instead he created a city built for a hero like Dick Grayson. Someone who is bright and flashy, but does have an element of darkness to him. Someone who loves the spotlight, but often uses it to obscure. Seeley turned Bludhaven into Las Vegas, and that was the fucking best concept for Bludhaven I have ever seen, it makes so much sense. Las Vegas is the "Entertainment Capital of the World" and isn't that the perfect city for a hero who got their start working in the circus? Isn't the aesthetics of the gleaming casinos, the glamorous sex appeal of the performers, and the spectacle of the shows, all being used to cover up the seediness of mob bosses meeting backstage perfect for Nightwing? It's so utterly unlike New York City, yet Las Vegas is still dangerous, it's got a crime culture all it's own. Seeley used it to great effect, as did Humphries during his brief run, and I will always be pissed that DC didn't continue to use it. That should have stuck around and been the definitive look for Bludhaven.

How Seeley's take on Bludhaven was treated feels like a small scale version of how Nightwing in general gets treated. Whenever creators pitched ideas for him, if editorial thought there was potential to break big, they asked for those ideas to be repurposed for Batman instead. Anything big or good gets repurposed for Batman or tossed to the side so Nightwing can go back to his default: having irrelevant adventures in a city that is supposedly worse than Gotham but can't live up to it. Just like how Nightwing is supposedly better than Batman but never gets to show it. Goddamn it's so frustrating seeing his potential get wasted like that.

The Nightwing book should be one of DC's most ambitious books in terms of storytelling. You can go from traditional superhero stories, to romantic soap opera, to spy stories, to crime noir, to horror, to cosmic adventures, and ALL of them would fit because Nightwing is someone who has a foot in both Gotham and Metropolis. He's got friends everywhere on every team, and has been a hero longer than most Leaguers have at this point. No reason DC should still be afraid to let him loose and insisting on hewing close to what Dixon established almost over 30 years ago is only holding him back. At the very least get him some better Rogues, why the hell didn't he get to keep Professor Pyg? That's Dick's villain not Bruce's! Bullshit that they didn't let Dick keep him. Hopefully Flamingo comes back, with a slight revamp I think he'd make a great reoccurring Nightwing Rogue.

Luckily it does look somewhat like Nightwing fans have reason to be optimistic. While Taylor isn't to my taste, DC clearly views him as a "big" writer, and that they put him on Nightwing says a lot. Taylor has been selling well so far, so hopefully he gets to tell his story, hilarious that even he lampshaded having to write Dick running over to Gotham for another tie-in after Taylor's big opening arc was all about Dick committing himself and his money to Bludhaven. Scott Snyder is apparently working on a Black Label Nightwing book which will explore how he's a different detective than Bruce. The Gotham Knights video game has him as one of the main stars, and while Titans is... controversial, it's one of the most popular streaming shows and Dick is the main character. There's a lot of content coming that features him in the starring role, and that will only help his star rise further.

For the first time in, well, ever it feels like DC may be serious about elevating him. Time will tell if it pays off, but I for one choose to be optimistic that the 2020s will be a turning point for Dick Grayson where Nightwing becomes hugely popular in his own right. Not just as Batman's sidekick.

#nightwing #dick grayson #batman #gotham knights #titans #dc comics

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sometimesbeforeitgetsbetter · 3 years

Text

Off the Record | Stiles Stilinski

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x reader

Summary: High school in Beacon Hills, as told through the eyes of one inquisitive journalist who has a knack at getting on Stiles Stilinski's nerves.

Warnings: idk there's like a couple curse words lmao. also, spoilers? if you haven't finished teen wolf I guess??

Word count: 8,227

A/N: hi hi this is my first fic I'm posting on Tumblr (not to say that this is my first fic ever...anyway)! before you start, I just wanna say that there's a couple things that might be off from the show but please just ignore them. like I think it's bs Lydia brings Stiles back and not Scott in 6b so I righted that wrong. but I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think of it! thanks for reading!!

All my life I’ve wondered why people didn’t question what happens in Beacon Hills.

It’s no secret that our town is unusual, but when odd things seemed to happen, people would just turn a blind eye and go about their business.

I, on the other hand, couldn’t let it go. I was inquisitive by nature, and my mom never knew how to answer my questions.

Why do we have so many animal attacks?

What happened to the people that disappeared in the Preserve?

Why did his eyes glow like that?

That last question almost caused my mom to get me a therapist – which probably would’ve helped me regardless – but she just continued to answer with her usual responses.

They just feel threatened by us, dear.

They’re in a better place now.

I’m sure it was nothing – you probably just saw some reflection in his eyes.

But no matter what she told me, I wasn’t satisfied. I knew there was something bigger going on, something my mom couldn’t explain, but I wasn’t sure what. As I got older, however, I realized that if I kept voicing my concerns, I’d be seen as the local crazy person – which, at the time, was the title reserved for my neighbor, Donna Romano, who always went to Town Hall meetings to complain about how some supernatural creatures were traumatizing her dogs every time she took them out at night to urinate.

Out of fear of sounding like Donna, I kept my suspicions to myself. I observed the strange actions of those around me and kept note of the bizarre events that happened in town. I found that it was something I was good at – observing. Always watching, but never voicing my opinions. Eventually, it got the best of me because I grew really quiet at school. But I didn’t mind. I liked being a wallflower.

One day in the fifth grade I saw my mom reading the Beacon Chronicle and I had an epiphany – journalists investigate weird, inexplicable events, so I should be a journalist. Reading the news became my favorite pastime, and by sixth grade I decided I would join the high school newspaper, The Daily Beacon, when I became a freshman. I figured maybe it would give me an outlet to investigate the odd occurrences in the town without looking like a lunatic.

But in sixth grade, I noticed that some of the odd things had stopped happening. There were less animal attacks and disappearances from the Preserve. Some people had even left town, including the last of the Hales, whose house had burned down that same year.

I didn’t give up hope though. I kept my head down and waited for things to get weird again. In the meantime, I wrote for enjoyment. In eighth grade I started shadowing a girl named Anna that was a part of the Daily Beacon, and I started writing articles – album reviews, movie reviews, school news.

Everything was going smoothly until my sophomore year of high school. Suddenly the weird things were happening, and I was sure that there was one person that was at the epicenter of it all – Scott McCall.

“...Angela, you’re covering the new faculty; Thomas, you’ve got the new Vegan Support Group club some juniors just created; and y/n, you’re covering lacrosse try-outs,” said Andrew, the editor-in-chief of the Daily Beacon.

I groaned slightly. “Andrew, couldn’t I write something a little bit more...my style? Like what about the one freshman class that boycotted their summer reading and is facing suspension?”

He gave me a slight look. “y/n, you know how important this lacrosse piece is. You know what that sport means to the school. You should be glad I’m giving you this opportunity,” he scolded. “Besides, Marlene is covering that class and is already interviewing their teacher.”

I nodded slowly and tried to refrain from rolling my eyes. I knew that Andrew meant well – he had been like an older brother to me ever since my freshman year – and he was right about the importance of lacrosse. I stayed quiet until he dismissed us, then mentally prepared myself to spend my afternoon watching some jocks exude machismo on a field.

When my last class was over, I walked over to the lacrosse field and found myself a spot on the top of the bleachers. It gave me an excellent vantage point – until a couple girls sat down right in front of me. The redhead I recognized to be Lydia Martin, the school’s resident popular girl. We’d been in class together all our lives, but I couldn’t remember a time she ever talked to me. I’m sure she didn’t even know I existed, just like the majority of the other people in our grade. The other girl, however, I didn’t recognize. I found out her name was Allison by overhearing their conversation. She was new and must have just moved to Beacon Hills.

The shrill sound of Coach’s whistle knocked me out of my thoughts. Tryouts started, and I watched as Scott McCall, a boy from my grade, was nearly knocked out by a lacrosse ball to the face. I winced but wrote down the event in the notebook I had out for documentation.

The next ball that went Scott’s way didn’t hit his face though. He managed to catch it in his goalie net. I couldn’t help but be a bit surprised – like Lydia, I’d known of Scott my whole life though he probably didn’t know me at all. But that meant I knew he was an asthmatic that wasn’t particularly skilled at sports.

“He’s actually pretty good,” I mumbled to myself as Scott continued to catch every ball that came his way.

I didn’t realize how loud I must’ve said it though because at my remark Allison turned around. “I was just thinking the same thing,” she said, obviously surprised. “Do you know him?”

I shook my head and quickly turned my attention to my notebook to write down the surprising turn of events. “Are you writing about this for the school newspaper?” I looked back up at Allison’s question. She was paying attention to me?

“Um, yeah, I am. I’d rather not write about sports, but here I am,” I joked lightly.

She let out a beautiful laugh at my statement. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. I’m Allison, and you are…?”

“y/n,” I answered. “Nice to meet you, Allison.” Suddenly the crowd roared, and I remembered why I was there. Allison, too, smiled and turned her attention back to the game. Lydia hadn’t said a word, but she was focused on watching Scott absolutely demolish Jackson Highmore, who, in my opinion, needed to be knocked down a few pegs anyway.

The more I watched Scott though, I got this weird feeling. He was good – too good. I tried to ignore my feelings and just focus on writing notes for the ridiculous lacrosse piece, which would include the headline: “Sophomore Scott McCall shines at lacrosse tryouts and becomes team co-captain.” But deep down I knew there was something up with him.

A few days later, I was sitting behind Stiles Stilinski, Scott’s best friend, in English class. Even though I’d had nearly all of my classes with him, we never talked. It originally was because I had a minor crush on him and was afraid I’d pass out if I spoke to him, but eventually it just morphed into me not speaking to many people and being convinced he didn’t know of my existence anyway.

But this one day, I was committed to speaking with him. I had to know what was going on, and if there was one person that knew anything about Scott’s new-found lacrosse talent, it was Stiles.

“Hey, Stiles,” I spoke up from behind him.

The brunette turned around, slightly confused but with that soft smile on his face. “Oh, hey, y/n. What’s up?”

I swear my heart stopped beating for a second. He knew my name? He knew who I was? I shook myself out of my thoughts before I went down the rabbit hole of the implications of him knowing me.

“Oh, nothing much. I’m just writing a piece about lacrosse tryouts for the school newspaper and I was just wondering if you had anything to say about it,” I explained.

He tilted his head slightly and shifted in his seat to more fully face me. “Um, yeah sure. I think it’s going to be a great season, especially since we’ve gotten some new leadership. My boy Scott’s co-captain now, so those Devenford Prep guys won’t know what hit them!”

“Speaking of Scott, when did he get so good at lacrosse? Would you say it’s natural talent?” I pressed a bit, hoping he’d say something that would give me a hint as to what was going on.

Stiles’ eyes squinted a little, and his head tilted slightly again. He seemed to be at a loss for words, which was unusual for the fast-talking, sarcastic boy, but he quickly recovered. “It’s definitely...natural...talent. He’s been working extra hard recently to hone his talent and skills so he could bring his A-game to this year’s tryouts.” When he finished speaking, he looked pleased with himself, and I could tell he had let out a small sigh of relief.

What are you hiding?

Though I didn’t know it yet, at that moment my rivalry with Stiles Stilinski began. He and Scott were hiding something, and I was going to find out what it was.

“You’re telling me that a girl is in a coma after the school winter formal and you don’t want me to write a story about it?”

Andrew leaned against the desk and crossed his arms. “It’s not that I don’t want you to write it. I just think it’s a tense time right now. The administration is receiving a lot of flack right now because of the winter formal fiasco, and Ms. Blanchard told me that we may want to avoid stirring the pot right now,” he explained. “That is not to say that we abandon our journalistic integrity and commitment to informing the student body, but we just may want to be sensitive to our environment right now.”

I trusted Ms. Blanchard, the faculty sponsor of the Daily Beacon, but not reporting on Lydia’s comatose state felt wrong. She was well-known at school, and students deserved to know the facts of her situation and how it had happened.Well, maybe I was lying to myself by saying that the real reason I wanted to pursue the story wasn’t the fact that something inexplicable had happened at the dance and I had to figure out what it was.

Andrew could sense my disappointment. “Look, maybe for now you can start collecting information and sources, and I’ll talk to Ms. Blanchard. Maybe she can advise us on how best to proceed.”

I threw my arms around Andrew in a quick hug. “Yes, thank you! I promise I’ll be sensitive when asking sources. I know how difficult this must be for the people close to her.”

“I know you will,” he said, chuckling lightly.

With a smile plastered on my face – perhaps a little inappropriately considering the topic I was excited to cover – I left the small newspaper office in search of my first source: Stiles Stilinski. He had been Lydia’s date to the dance, so surely he must know what happened to her, right? “No, I don’t know what happened,” Stiles angrily responded when I cornered him at his locker. “We were separated for a bit because she went looking for someone. When I went looking for her I–” he stopped suddenly, as if choosing his words carefully. He wouldn’t meet my eyes as he spoke.

“The next thing I know, she was at the hospital in a coma. They told me Jackson had found her out on the field when I went to check on her at the hospital,” he explained.

Something wasn’t adding up. “Ok, but where were you the rest of that time? You didn’t go looking for her when you didn’t see her for a while? What about when she had already been checked into the hospital?”

“What is this – an investigation?” Stiles shouted as he slammed his locker shut. I took a step back, eyes wide at the sudden display of aggression. Maybe I pushed too hard, I thought. Stiles rubbed a hand over his face and took a deep breath. “Sorry, I….I didn’t mean it like that. There’s just a lot going on, and my dad has been up my ass about those details too. To be honest, I can’t tell you where I was. The time just flew by and all of a sudden I’d realized I hadn’t seen Lydia for a couple hours. I wish I had been there for her, but there’s nothing I can do for her now other than check up on her.”

Running a hand over his buzzed head, he shot me a forced smile and said “good luck with your article” before walking away.

I was at a loss for words, trying to put the pieces together in my head. Surely he couldn’t have had a part in Lydia’s injury? There’s no way. But his defensiveness was off-putting–

“Hey, y/n!” I was snapped out of my thoughts by Allison approaching me from behind. “What were you talking to Stiles about?”

“Huh? Oh, um, I was just asking him about…” I remembered that the funeral for Allison’s aunt was happening and didn’t want to mention the additional stress of her best friend being comatose, so I opted for a white lie. “Biology homework. I wasn’t really paying attention in class today.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you two were friends,” she said as she leant against the lockers.

I shook my head violently. “We’re not.” I’d grown too close to Allison for her to not pick up on my feelings though.

“You say that now, but–”

“I have to get to class. See you at lunch, Ally!”

Other things that year were weird, but none warranted any further investigation via newspaper article. Sure, I was wondering about Erica Reyes’ sudden transformation into the ultimate baddie, the mysterious deaths of a mechanic and Isaac Lahey’s dad, numerous paralyzations at the Jungle, and a death of someone at a secret rave, but Andrew thought it would be best for the Chronicle and Ledger to cover those bigger events. In fact, the only other unnatural event that happened that I had to cover for the newspaper was Stiles’ unbelievable winning streak at the lacrosse championship. I would have quoted him after the game, but I really didn’t want to speak to him and anyway, he had disappeared for a bit right after the team won.

I could tell that things were happening, but it was all hidden from public view. I even noticed Allison’s behavior fluctuating. The arrival of her grandfather shook things up, and while he gave me a bad feeling, I couldn’t exactly figure out why. Lydia was more troubled than usual after coming back from the hospital even though she tried to act normally. Jackson was going through something and was more angry and aggressive than usual, but I wasn’t close enough to him to ask him if he was okay.

Over the summer, I spent a surprising amount of time with Lydia. Allison spent her summer in France, but she asked me to keep an eye on Lydia to make sure she was okay, especially since Jackson had moved to London during the summer break. I was surprised how much I enjoyed spending time with the redhead, and we hung out when I wasn’t working at my internship at The Beacon Chronicle, which my mom had convinced me to apply for after she noticed how irritated I was that I couldn’t pursue some of the stories I wanted.

By the time Allison came back before the start of school, it felt like Lydia and I had been best friends for the longest time.

“So, Allison, have you talked to Scott at all this summer?” I asked when I was sitting in the backseat of Lydia’s car, Allison in the passenger seat.

She shook her head. “No, I think I still need some time. He...hides things from me and I don’t know if I can trust him.”

I nodded my head, understanding the feeling. I still couldn’t place my finger on what had happened between them or what Scott was involved in. Though I comforted her when I found out they broke up, I didn’t really know why they’d done it.

“What about you, y/n? Have you talked to Stiles at all?” Allison asked, looking back at me in the backseat.

“Why the hell would I talk to Stiles?” I questioned, confused.

She and Lydia shared a small look that I couldn’t decipher before she shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, but you guys are more similar than you may think. I don’t know why you guys act like you don’t like each other though.”

The car rolled to a stop at the stop light, and all of a sudden I noticed a familiar baby blue jeep approach next to us. “Speak of the devil,” I mumbled. Lydia and Allison didn’t notice Stiles staring and waving at first, but when they did the car was filled with awkward tension.

The next events were a blur: Lydia running the red light, both cars stopping in the middle of the road, and a deer running straight towards us, nearing killing me in the gap between the front seats. We were shaken, and the boys ran towards us when they saw what happened.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked Lydia, but he kept looking at me. I nodded slightly and he turned his full attention back to Lydia.

“What was wrong with it?” Allison asked as Scott got closer to the deer.

“It was scared,” he explained. “No, terrified.”

Things got progressively weirder after that. On the first day of school, I interviewed our new English teacher, Ms. Blake. She was nice enough, but it was unfortunate that her class was the one that a whole flock of birds decided to burst through the classroom windows. By the time the police arrived, I was already drafting up a story in my brain: Why are the animals acting weird in Beacon Hills?

I had overheard Stiles talking to Scott about the deer’s weird behavior and the number of deer-related incidents in California, so I swallowed my pride so that I could talk to him and maybe get some stats and information on the whole situation.

I walked up to him when he was sitting alone, texting on his phone. “Hey, Stiles.” “y/n? What’s wrong?” He had genuine concern written on his face.

“I overheard you and Scott talking about deer-related incidents earlier,” I noticed how he tensed up at my statement, “and I was wondering if you could help me with a piece I’m writing? It seems like you know all the stats, so maybe...you could write it with me?” It pained me to finish that sentence, but I figured it might be easier to figure out what was going on if he was helping – especially if he already had inside information.

I think for the first time in his life, the talkative boy was speechless. “I understand if you don’t want to or you’re busy–” I said quickly, trying to give him a way out.

“Yeah, sure.”

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t caught off guard by his response. “W-what?”

He smirked slightly. “Yeah, sure. I’ll help you out with your article, y/n. Collaborate with you, if you will. We can work on it at my house tomorrow afternoon if you want.”

Nodding and agreeing with the plan, I left the chaotic English classroom.

The next afternoon, I felt like I was walking into the lion’s den. Going to Stiles’ house felt foreign, but what was even stranger was seeing him in casual clothes in a comfortable environment.

He answered the door wearing some sweats and a t-shirt, looking more comfortable and confident than I’d ever seen him. “Hey, y/n. Come on in,” he greeted.

I thanked him awkwardly, and we walked to his dining room table to get set up. “Sorry, I need to go grab my notes from my room. Be back in a sec,” Stiles said before leaving me alone in his dining room.

After a moment of silence, Sheriff Stilinski walked in wearing his uniform. “Oh, y/n! What are you doing here?” He had seen me a couple weeks ago in the police station when I was requesting documents for a story for the Chronicle. Though journalists and cops don’t often have a jovial relationship, he said that he liked me because of my commitment to the truth and respectful nature.

“Hey, Sheriff. I’m writing a piece about the animals acting weird, you know, with the deer accident and bird incident, and Stiles said he’d help me since he has a bunch of statistics on deer related car accidents.”

“Stiles is helping you? Well, I’ll be damned.” When he saw the confusion on my face, he rushed to explain himself. “No, not like that. It’s just, you’re all organized and focused, and Stiles is….Stiles.”

I was laughing heartily when the boy himself walked back into the room. “What’s going on, Daddy-o?”

“Nothing, son. Just catching up with y/n here. I’ve got to get to work, but you’re welcome anytime, y/n.” He said before patting Stiles on the shoulder and heading off to work.

Stiles looked over at me oddly when he placed his notes on the table and sat next to me. “Since when are you all buddy-buddy with my dad?”

Shrugging, I said, “Ever since we started grabbing beer every Thursday night while you’re at lacrosse practice.” His jaw dropped slightly, and I laughed again. “No, idiot. We’ve just interacted a lot because of my internship. Now, can we get started on the article?”

After the article was published, my next assignment was writing about the track meet a couple weeks later. I found out Allison and Lydia were riding together to the meet, so I tagged along.

Both girls were extremely tense the whole ride, seemingly concerned about something going on in the bus. We were only a few cars behind the bus full of track runners (and lacrosse players who were forced to attend the meet), but the stand-still traffic was a force to be reckoned with.

“Do you think we’re too close?” Allison asked.

“Honey, if you were any closer I think you’d mount the bus,” Lydia said sarcastically. She got a call from Stiles and looked over at Allison. “Hey, Stiles,” she dragged out the ‘hey,’ tension obvious in her voice.

She listened to what he was saying, something clearly wrong. “What do you mean he’s not–” she stopped when she remembered I was in the car, “healing?” She finished the question quietly, probably hoping I wouldn’t hear.

Healing? Is he injured?

“Yeah, ok, just find a way to get Coach to stop. We’ll meet you there.” She hung up and told Allison to pull off at the next stop.

When we got to the rest stop, I could see everyone hurrying to get off the bus. Allison parked the car, and we quickly went to the bathroom where I saw Scott nearly passed out on the floor. “Oh my god, is he okay?”

“Yeah, y/n. He’s fine. At least, he will be,” Stiles responded. He positioned his body in front of me a little bit as if he was trying to block my view of Scott.

I gently pushed him aside so I could see and was shocked to see black blood coming from the injured boy. “What the hell is going on? Why is his blood black?” I ran forward to get closer, kneeling next to Allison.

“It’s nothing. We just need to stitch him up and he’ll be fine.”

“Stiles, don’t fucking lie to me. I can see that he’s obviously not fine.”

“He’s right,” Allison said quietly. “We need to stitch him up. I need something to stitch him together with.” She looked around before remembering something in her bag.

I shook my head. “We need to tell Coach. Take him to a hospital or something.”

“No!” All three of them yelled at me.

It was quiet for a moment, all of us deciding where to go from here. “Just…” Stiles started, “please go and make sure the bus doesn’t leave without us. We’ll handle this.” I got up and slowly made my way to the door.

As I reached for the door, a hand grabbed my wrist. “y/n,” Stiles said, “it’ll make sense someday. Just trust us for now. Trust me,” he pleaded quietly out of earshot of the girls and Scott.

“I do,” I replied quietly, not meeting his eyes, before pulling my hand from his grasp and leaving the bathroom.

That night, we all had to stay at the Motel Glen Capri because of the postponed meet. I didn’t like its energy, and neither did Lydia. “A lot can happen in one night,” she said.

Though it was supposed to be two to a room, I convinced Coach to let me room with Allison and Lydia. Admittedly, Coach didn’t need much convincing because I was saving the school money by doing so. Once we got our room key, we went up to our room on the second floor.

“I’m going to go get a snack from the machine,” I told Lydia once Allison was in the shower.

She nodded. “Sounds good. I’m going to the lobby. There must be something we can do about these towels that reek of nicotine.”

Grabbing a couple one’s from my wallet, I made my way down the hall to the vending machine where I ran into Boyd and Stiles. As I approached, I could hear Stiles trying to talk to an unresponsive Boyd, who subsequently punched a hole through the glass of the machine, grab his snack that the machine refused to give him, and walk away.

“What the hell was that?” I asked Stiles as I walked up next to him.

He shrugged. “I don’t really know, to be honest.” He reached into the machine to grab his snack and tossed one to me as well.

When I got back to my room, a shaken Allison and Lydia were hurriedly talking about something. “Oh, y/n! You’re back. You won’t believe what just happened…” Allison started

She recounted the story of Scott’s bizarre behavior in the bathroom, and Lydia filled me in on the counter that they have at the front desk. “Can you imagine having a counter for the number of suicides that take place in your hotel? Crazy,” Lydia said. Taking her phone out, she sent a quick text to Stiles telling him that we all needed to talk.

We met him in the hallway a couple minutes later. “What was the text for?” Stiles asked when he saw our little gathering.

“There’s something going on with all the…” she looked over at me before continuing, “guys. You know, Scott, Boyd, Isaac, probably Ethan too.” I tried to connect the dots between all of them, but I didn’t really know what they all had in common. Scott and Isaac were both on the lacrosse team, but from what I could tell they didn’t have a particular fondness for each other or Ethan.

“I think someone’s going to die tonight,” Lydia said decisively.

“Why do you think that?” I asked, but it seemed like I was the only one questioning her line of reason.

She shook her head slowly. “I just...have a feeling.” After a moment of silence, she told us about hearing something from the room next to ours through the vent, so we decided to investigate it. Room 217 seemed empty and locked, but all of a sudden we heard the sound of a saw from behind the door.

Stiles busted the door open, and we opened it to find Ethan turning the saw on himself. “Ethan, stop!” I yelled as we ran into the room. Stiles started wrestling him for the saw, but luckily Lydia saw where it was plugged into the wall and unplugged it.

The next thing that happened was completely unexpected to me. Ethan grew fangs and claws, his eyes blazing red. What the fu–

Allison and Lydia rushed forward, wrestling his claws away from his torso where he had been planning on slashing himself. In the struggle he fell on the space heater, which apparently brought him out of whatever state he was in. He ran out of the room soon after. When we tried to question him about what he was doing, he couldn’t answer us. He had been out of control, and it made Allison realize we were forgetting someone.

“Where’s Scott?” She asked suddenly. When no one could answer, we all decided to split up – I’d go with Allison to look for Scott while Stiles and Lydia went to find Boyd and Isaac.

Scott wasn’t in his room. Allison and I ran all over the motel, looking in every crevice. At last, we decided to check the school bus, and that’s where we saw him. Standing drenched in gasoline, a flare lit up in his hand.

“Scott…” I approached quietly, careful to not make any sudden movements.

It was then that Stiles and Lydia joined us. I watched as Stiles walked into the gasoline, my breath catching in my throat as he nearly sacrificed himself. Scott was talking, but I didn’t really understand what it meant. He said that his life was better before the bite.

Stiles eventually talked Scott down, but the flare rolled into the gasoline. Luckily, Lydia was able to make sure we had all gotten out of the way. I’d ended up next to Stiles on the ground, and though we made eye contact, no words were spoken.

We spent the night in the bus because none of us could bear the thought of spending another second in that cursed place. Coach woke us up in the morning, definitely thinking the worst about what we may have gotten ourselves into, but whatever he was thinking wouldn’t possibly compare to reality. What was reality? I couldn’t have really told you at that point. I didn’t understand what we’d just lived through.

Before the other students started loading onto the bus, Stiles slid into the empty space next to me. “y/n, you know that all of this,” he made a grand gesture to Scott and the others as well as the motel, “is off the record. You can’t tell anyone about this. About what happened.” I held eye contact with him for a moment before nodding. “I wouldn’t tell anyone. To be honest, I don’t even really know what I would tell people, but I wouldn’t.” He nodded, a sad smile on his face as he looked down and fidgeted with his hands. “But Stiles,” I said as he looked back up at me. “Please help me understand it all. You can trust me, I promise, I just want to understand. I want to help.”

With a deep sigh, Stiles nodded once more. “Okay. I’ll tell you everything.”

When Stiles said he’d fill me in on everything, I didn’t realize he meant everything. I couldn’t believe how oblivious I had been to everything that had happened in the past year. Sure, I knew something weird was going on, but how was I supposed to know it was supernatural?

Finding out that my little corner of the world, little old Beacon Hills, California, had werewolves (and a kanima, pack of alphas, and whatever the hell a Darach was) was a lot to process. It was unbelievable, but Stiles helped me believe it.

I could tell that he didn’t fully trust me though. There was something in the way he looked at me that told me he was wondering when I would be done with my source acquisition and I’d write the next big exposé: Supernatural Beacon Hills: How Werewolves Have Been Hiding In Plain Sight. I didn’t know how to assure him that I was on their side and wouldn’t expose their secrets.

As the year progressed, things simultaneously made more sense and less sense. To defeat the Darach, we had to perform a sacrifice for the parents that had abducted, and Deaton – the veterinarian that had taken care of every family pet we’d ever had – told me I had to hold Stiles down during it. He said we had some sort of connection, but I guess that’s what mutual loathing does to people.

In the end, we won. We beat the Darach, the alpha of the alphas Deucalion left, and Scott became an alpha himself. But it was still just the beginning.

The sacrifice did something to Scott, Stiles, and Allison that we didn’t fully understand. Deaton said they left a door open, which only made it harder for Stiles to trust me because he could barely trust himself.

Knowing about the supernatural didn’t preclude my other responsibilities though. I still wrote for the Daily Beacon, much to Stiles’ displeasure, but I enjoyed it. So, on the first day of school I interviewed our newest faculty member – Mr. Yukimura. He and his family had just moved from New York, and his daughter Kira was in our grade. She was nice, but shy, so I invited her to have lunch with us.

Surprisingly, Kira jumped right into the conversation at lunch by mentioning bardo, the Buddhist concept of being in an in-between state.

After lunch, I caught up with Allison to walk to our next class. “Hey, Allison, could I ask you a favor?”

“Of course! What’s up?”

“Well, I don’t really know how to ask this but...I need help learning to defend myself, I guess? It’s just that I’m going to be helping you guys now, and I actually want to be helpful, so I want to protect myself so you guys don’t have to worry about me,” I admitted.

Allison smiled softly. “I’d love to help.” I returned her smile, suddenly giddy, yet nervous. “But, I think you should know that my...aim...has been off since the sacrifice.”

I could hear the disappointment in her voice. “Nonsense, I’m sure that you’re still the best shot in this school.” She shook her head. “It’s never been this bad.”

Touching her arm lightly, I gave her a reassuring smile. “We’ll figure it out together.”

A few days later, I was surprised when I was paid a visit by both Scott and Stiles while I was sitting in the library. “To what do I owe this pleasure, boys?”

“We need your help.” I perked up at Scott’s statement. “We’re trying to solve the Tate case, you know, the one where Malia Tate disappeared all those years ago after that car accident, and we could use your help tracking her down.” He looked over at Stiles and nudged him with his elbow.

“And, you can write a piece about it. Not including all the details, if what we think happened is true, but you can still write something factual,” Stiles said, still displeased that I was writing for the newspaper.

To annoy Stiles, I acted like I was really thinking about it for a minute, but then laughed lightly. “Yeah, I’ll help you guys. Where do we start?”

Pull yourself together, y/n. You’re a journalist. You’re supposed to report on tragedy all the time. Be objective.

I took a deep breath and wrote the first line for what would be the cover story of the next Daily Beacon issue.

Junior Allison Argent, 17, died in an unfortunate carjacking incident last fall.

Before I could write any more, I got a phone call from Stiles.

Oh, thank god. “Stiles?”

“Do you want to come with us to Mexico?” He blurted out.

I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from my chest. “What? Mexico? Why? When–”

“Tomorrow.”

“Stiles, are you insane? Even if I wanted to, there’s no way my parents would ever let me go.”

“We’re all telling our parents we’re going camping, if that helps at all,” he said with what seemed like a hint of disappointment in his voice.

I was quiet for a minute, but my mind was already made up. “Why? And who exactly is going?”

“Scott, Lydia, Kira, Malia, and I have to visit some hunters and see what they know about Derek being missing.”

As soon as he mentioned Malia, my mouth started curling into a frown. It’s not that I disliked the werecoyote, it’s just that she and Stiles had been pretty full on since they hooked up at Eichen and started dating. I wasn’t jealous – though I’m sure Lydia would argue otherwise since she’s convinced I like him or something – just...weirded out by their relationship.

I sighed. “I want to help, but I really can’t tomorrow. School starts back up in a couple days, and I need to finish this elegy for Allison and come up with a bunch of assignments for the staff writers…” I trailed off, thinking about all that I had to do before the coming week.

“Oh yeah, I forgot. Ms. Editor-in-chief over here has a life outside of us,” Stiles joked.

Andrew graduated at the end of last year and left his glittering empire to me, though suddenly I felt overwhelmed at the prospect of running a newspaper while being way too involved in the town’s supernatural endeavors. It didn’t bother me last semester, but after Allison…

“I’ll just see you guys when you get back, okay?” I told Stiles. He made an unintelligible noise of agreement. “And try not to let anyone get killed.” “Yes, mom,” Stiles said sarcastically. I could almost hear the smirk in his voice.

When the pack got back, I was surprised by the events that had taken place. “What do you mean it’s a young version of Derek?”

A few days later, I had to cover the spring lacrosse tryouts. Though I wanted to assign it to someone else, I had to do it myself because everyone was busy with the assignments I had given them.

To my surprise, a new freshman, Liam Dunbar, showed everyone up at tryouts – even Scott. I took note of how he seemed almost athletically superior to everyone, and I wondered if he was supernatural.

“He’s human, I’m sure of it,” Scott said as he came up next to where I was sitting on the bleachers, scaring me out of my mind in the process.

“Jeez, Scott. A little warning next time would be nice. But how do you know?”

He shrugged. “I can just tell. He’s just a really great athlete.”

“He’s going to be a great pain in my ass, I can tell,” Stiles said, sidling up next to Scott.

I took note of their reactions, writing down Scott’s comment – about being a great athlete, not human – to consider while writing my piece.

“Oh no, don’t tell me you’re writing a story about him,” Stiles groaned.

“You know I have to write one about the tryouts, and he just happens to be the star player of today,” I told him. “Sorry, Scott.”

Scott waved me off, but Stiles was still upset about the situation. “No, don’t give him the ego boost! He’s already a little shit, and an article about him would make it worse.”

Taking a break from my note-taking, I looked over at the brown-haired boy. “Stiles, have you even talked to him?”

He looked at a loss for words. “N-not really...but I can see his arrogance from a mile away!”

I rolled my eyes. “Well then, if you’d excuse me, I’m going to write up a fantastic story about a talented up-and-coming lacrosse player.”

The article became the next issue’s front page, but I almost wished I hadn’t given him as much attention when Scott turned him into his beta.

The rest of the year didn’t go as planned either, but isn’t junior year supposed to be everyone’s worst year?

As much as I liked helping out with the supernatural problems Scott and the rest of the pack were having, it was hard knowing about what was going on and not being able to write about it, especially when all of the mysterious killings started up. We eventually found out about the deadpool, but I could write about a kill list of Beacon Hills’ resident supernaturals, could I?

At the end of the year, I finally had to make the trip to Mexico with the rest of the pack. “Stiles, I’m going. You can’t stop me!” I attempted to open the passenger door of the jeep when he reached out and shut it from behind me.

“No, it’s going to be dangerous. We don’t even really know what we’re facing,” he tried reasoning with me. “I can protect myself,” I said, thinking of the training that Allison had given me. “Besides, I can’t just sit by and wait for you guys to come back. I need to try helping Scott.”

Realizing that I wasn’t going to back down, Stiles removed his hand from the side of the door and opened it for me. I nodded a quick thanks as I hopped into the vehicle.

I wasn’t expecting to fight Scott that day, but we all did in order to return him from his Berserker form. At the end of the fight, I had a few cuts and bruises, but nothing I couldn’t deal with.

As Derek drove away with Braedan, I could feel that things were changing. “I can’t write about any of this, can I?” I asked somewhat jokingly.

“Off the record,” Stiles replied from where he stood next to me.

“Stiles, what’s wrong?”

“Oh thank god, you remember me!” He said as he grabbed my hands. He’d been running down the hall frantically when I saw him.

I looked at him with concern on my face. “Yeah, of course I remember you? Why wouldn’t I–”

“y/n, it’s the Hunt. The Ghost Riders. I saw them, and now they’re coming for me.” He was breathing heavily, eyes sweeping the surroundings for signs of the Ghost Riders. His eyes locked on something to his left, but when I looked, I couldn’t see anything. “They’re here. We have to go,” he said, pulling me towards the parking lot. We got into his jeep, but he didn’t start the car. “Stiles, what are you doing?”

“It’s too late.” I could see the look of grief on his face. “No, don’t say that. It’s not–”

“It’s the truth,” he cut me off, turning to look at me. “Promise me you won’t forget.”

I shook my head. “I won’t. But Stiles, I can’t do this without you,” I could feel a tear escaping my eye and slipping down my cheek, my emotions getting the better of me.

Stiles reached forward and wiped the tear away before placing his hand on my cheek. “What do you mean? You’re one of the smartest, most inquisitive people I know. If I had to trust anyone to find a way to stop the Ghost Riders, it would be you.”

I couldn’t help but smile at his honesty. “Yeah right. Lydia will probably figure it out before me.”

He shook his head. “You can do it. I trust you.” I could tell there was more he wanted to say, but he turned to look at something through the window over his shoulder. “Can I tell you something? Off the record.”

I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped my mouth. “Yes, of course. What is it?”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t hate you. I know it may seem like I’ve never trusted you or that I don’t care about you, but it’s actually the opposite. I...really really like you,” he admitted.

I was stunned. Stiles likes me? He was searching my face for any indication of feelings as I sat there silently.

“Oh, shit,” Stiles mumbled. “Ok, forget I said that. Well, you won’t need to forget when you forget me in a minute–”

I cut off his rambling by placing my lips on his. They were warm and familiar, as if they were made for mine. “I like you too,” I mumbled when I disconnected, my eyes still closed from the interaction.

But when I opened them, I was alone in the baby blue jeep.

All semester, I’d felt that something was missing, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. Or who it was.

But after months of searching for it, we finally figured it out. Lydia had gone into a banshee trance to discover the word “Stiles,” and it brought back vague memories for me when I heard it. The feeling of soft flannel. A sarcastic laugh. Red string around my finger. A hefty wooden baseball bat.

The collection of memories made sense when we all finally got our memories back and remembered the person we were missing from our lives.

We traced the trail of clues to the sewers, where Scott tried to bring back Stiles because of their brotherly love for one another. I thought it would work, but the portal closed and Stiles hadn’t appeared. Come on, Stiles. Where are you?

We had to fight the Ghost Riders off, making sure they didn’t turn our beloved Beacon Hills into another ghost town. I’d run into the high school, looking for something to use as a weapon when I ran into someone in the hall. A tall, brown-haired figure wearing a flannel shirt. “Stiles?”

He turned, and smiles emerged on both of our faces. I broke into a run again, right into his arms. “I can’t believe you’re here. You’re really here.” I mumbled, the sound muffled against his shirt.

“I knew you could do it,” he said.

I pulled back slightly and looked up at his face, suddenly nervous. “That night in the jeep...did you hear what I told you before you disappeared?”

A soft smile rested on his face. “Of course I did. It was the one thing that kept me going, especially when I was stuck with Peter.”

“Peter Hale? Why the hell were you with Peter Hale?”

Stiles shook his head. “We can go over that later. For now, there’s one thing I’ve been wanting to do.” I was a little confused, but I understood once he leaned in and connected our lips.

This is what I’d been missing, and I was never going to let it go again.

I watched from afar as Stiles gave his trusty baseball bat to Mason, who didn’t seem to appreciate the hunk of wood.

“Have you told him yet?” Lydia asked as she appeared next to me.

I shook my head. “We haven’t really had time to talk about that stuff. I think he doesn’t really want to think about it just yet and what that might mean for us.”

She nudged me with her elbow, silently telling me to go over there and talk to him. Rolling my eyes, I walked towards the familiar blue jeep and familiar mess of brown hair.

Liam and Mason had already walked away, and Scott and Stiles were standing and talking at the jeep’s trunk. “Hey, y/n. I’m just heading out, but I’ll see you guys later,” Scott said as I came up and Stiles threw his arm around me.

We waved as Scott left, and Stiles pulled me closer. “Hey,” he said, looking down at me with an affectionate expression.

I pulled him over so we could sit in the open trunk. “We need to talk.” I could see the panic flare up in his eyes.

“Oh, um, okay? Is everything okay?”

Chuckling lightly, I nodded. “Yeah, we just haven’t talked about college at all,” I explained.

His head dropped. “Yeah, I know. I just don’t want it to ruin what we have here, and I don’t even know what life will be like outside of Beacon Hills, and I feel like we just got together and now–”

“Stiles,” I cut him off. “I’m going to GW too.”

His eyes widened at my confession. “You...you’re going to GW?”

I nodded, a small smile on my lips. “I committed a while ago. I’m going to study journalism there.”

I watched as a smile spread across his face. Then, it was replaced by a quick smirk. “Oh great, you’re following me there, huh? I just can’t seem to get rid of you.”

I shrugged. “What can I say? I’m going to need someone to give me the inside scoop on the FBI’s antics.”

He looked pensive for a moment. “I think what you’re describing is illegal.”

“Not if it’s in the public’s interest. But maybe it just needs to be off the record,” I admitted. Stiles laughed. “Oh, it’s definitely going to be off the record.”

#stiles stilinski #teen wolf #stiles stilinski fic #stiles stilinski x reader #scott mccall #lydia martin #allison argent #hot take: scott should have brought back stiles in 6b not lydia #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski one shot #dylan obrien #isaac lahey #dylan o'brien

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spiltscribbles · 3 years

Note

Prompt: Pro Athlete Sirius because that my and Remus' kink

~Notes: OMFG VICTOrIA!!!! I FUCKING SCREECHED!!!! lkadfjlaksdgjoiaejfalskdgjioeugisfkldshg Yes tis my kink as well!!! And then I saw this from Nonny and worlds collided and BOOM! I hope you like this my love<3<3 You incredibly talented sugarplum!!! TBH I want to write a thousand more things in this AU XD

FROM THIS LIST | Send Me A Prompt!💜 | A REBLOG MEANS THE GALAXY!!💜

When Remus was young— surrounded by the light breeze of the Welsh coast and the harmony of birds chirping in the distance— he would follow his mother to their small garden behind their cottage at the cusp of twilight as his father cooked their supper, and he’d watch as she laid flat all sorts of newspapers written in French and Arabic and English, watch as she brought her red pen against the ink and marked the articles with underlines and shorthand he wouldn’t understand for years still.

He asked her once, when he was barely eight years old, why she bothered to keep up with so many different publications, why she read the same story penned by countless perspectives when all the facts stayed the same at the end of the day. And he remembers how she had let out a quick, shrill of a laugh, tossing back her golden head while sucking in a puff from the bubbling hookah she had set up besides her— a habit she acquired from her Algerian, refugee parents, and one that became synonymous to those late nights in Remus’s eyes.

“Facts can be wielded to someone’s personal vendettas, Remus John,” she had crooned in that adoring way of hers whenever she spoke to him— honey eyes that were the same color and shape to Remus’s own flashing alight and their matching smiles going crooked in her stunningly beautiful face.

“Oh.” Remus had replied, still confused as all get out but was perfectly fine with just holding his small vigil, watching her beneath moonlight and the soft glow of their outdoors lamps, as he listened to the shuffling of papers while she commenced this odd quirk.

It’s a decade and a half later— as his editor for the Phoenix, a small, but bustling online editorial that plans on dethroning the likes of Politico and Vox in only a matter of years, scans his latest findings on the corrupt boosters linked to MP Avery from Leeds— when Remus thinks he suddenly understands what his mother, with her keen eyes and pixelated air, had meant by facts in how they can be colored differently simply by the words surrounding them. And he wonders if one day soon, one of his bylines will join her little stack of stories, if she’ll be proud of him even if she says as much even now, when he’s a lost twenty-something stumbling through life in the capitol and barely making it as is, between his actual job and the gig he has at the coffee shop nearest his dingy flat he shares with three other blokes.

“Mmm, this is good, Lupin,” Dorcas declares after what feels like an eon, dropping her long, dark legs from where they were lounging leisurely on her desk and scuffs out her cigarette in a pretty, glass ashtray. “Send it over to Flores to look into deeper, maybe it’ll corroborate the info she’s already gotten from her sources.”

Remus feels himself bristle, hopes that it doesn’t show, that his face stays passive as he contends, “I think I should at least help her write the expose, I’m the one who got this bombshell.”

“That’s not how it works, sweets,” Dorcas toots, tossing back her dark head of curls as she rises, perching on the corner of her desk delicately and looking down, straight into his gaze. “I know it’s frustrating, but you’re fresh blood. barely six months here, but Alice has been with us for years. This is her baby, and we’re just here to nurture it.”

“So I’ll have to wait another ten months, at least, to get the same treatment?” He argues in an admittedly petulant way, making Dorcas laugh endearingly, and Remus is suddenly, searingly reminded of his age, and how he’s the youngest staffer that this London based news outlet has on hand.

“C’mon, love, it won’t be that long for someone as sharp as you, just be patient, and don’t try to pull a Zoe Barnes on us, yeah? You’re far too pretty to clean up on the rails of the tube.” Dorcas tousles a hand into his dark tawny curls, and Remus holds back the roll to his eyes that he feels willing up inside of him as he stands fully.

“Thanks Cas.”

She smiles beatifically, and throws him a wink. “You’re joining Emmy for the report tomorrow on those United footballers and their fundraiser for the hospital, yeah?”

“Bright and early,” Remus replies, still feels a bit miffed that he was chosen to write up the charity function, considering he doesn’t know a lick about football and doesn’t really get on with anyone who does. But Caradoc— their typical sports reporter— is out sick with the flew, so it’s on him. “I’ll have it on your desk early enough so it’ll be published by tea time.”

“Good man,” Dorcas says in thanks, picking up her crowing cellphone before waving him off.

Remus isn’t all that surprised when he strides out of the office only to find Benjy Fenwick sitting against the opposite wall, knees pressed to his chest and quickly scrambling up when he catches sight of Remus. Sometimes it’s impossible to believe that the bespectacled man in front of him is one of the top editors for the Phoenix, that he’s a regular corespondent for places like the BBC or CNN— that his rebukes against the piss poor inquiries waged during PMQs have become more anticipated than the sessions themselves. Remus tends to forget all of that when he sees him like this, messy haired and wearing a graphic T-shirt with some marvel superhero embossed on the front. “Wotcher Remus.”

“Hiya Remus says, smiling softly and rocking back on his heels. “You wanted to talk to the sergeant then?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no. I didn’t want to talk to Dorcas, I just— Erm, I know you were showing her that stuff you got from that intern, Pettigrew, and i know you were chafed about not getting any opportunity here so—“ He trails off, scratching the back of his head and studying a point over Remus’s shoulder, and it’s all too endearing, and Remus is so beyond thankful he’s made such a good friend here.

“No cigar,” he says in answer to the unspoken question, shrugging noncommittally even if he feels like shit over it.

Benjy nods, face contrite in a way that tells Remus he never thought it would’ve went otherwise. “I’m sorry, that’s bollocks.”

“’S whatever,” Remus shrugs off the apology, begins walking down the hall and straightening his report to hand over to Alice.

“Ah,, erm. We can get a drink, yeah? In commiseration,” Benjy offers, and Remus stilts only for a beat before continuing the twisting trail to where Alice is set up with the more senior members on staff. And he feels only sorta bad about wanting to refuse. He knows that if he says yes, it’ll mean something different to Benjy than it does him, that he’ll probably take it as Remus finally giving into his pestering and deciding to actually go out with him, even if he’s refuted the other four times he’s asked as much. Remus’s simply just too busy trying to get a footing in this city, and trying to figure out where he’s suppose to go from here, and what he’s suppose to do. And yes, Benjy is cute— a complete Seth Cohen archetype. And he’s sweet and smart and funny enough. But Remus is really not in the mood for doing the whole flowers and wine and candle lit dinners shtick, had gotten enough of that while still with his university boyfriend. And yeah, he’s only just turned 24, but he already feels too old and too jaded for that sort of puppy love— even if Benjy’s got a good decade and some change on him.

Probably sensing his hesitation, Benjy is quick to rectify the offer. “I’ll ask Mary, and Fabian too, and a few others. We can make a night of it, just some drinks on a Friday after work.”

Stalling by the last turn to Alice’s desk, Remus looks at him from over his shoulder, and sort of hates himself for being such a soft hearted fuck sometimes. “Yeah Benj, sounds nice. Just let me know on the group chat, yeah?”

Benjy grins, much more genuine than his awkward quirk of the lips from earlier. “Yeah, good call, I’ll let the others know pronto.”

“Aces,” Remus says, tosses him a obligatory thumbs-up before finding an expectant looking Alice who’s tapping her foot impatiently.

Yeah, today is so bloody shit.

Surprisingly, the round of drinks turns to another and then a third and fourth and Remus is currently nursing his fifth mango margarita on Benjy’s tab, and he actually feels lighter than he has since taking the job at Phoenix, feels bright and bubbling and like absolutely nothing could be wrong as long as he’s got this drink in his grasp and he’s sitting with the handful of reporters and photographers from the office that don’t all have sticks up their asses. It’s fun, it’s good. So obviously it couldn’t have lasted.

Mary is currently cackling about her Uber driver from last night who asked her all sorts of well meaning, but incredibly dense questions about her hijab— a freshly poured glass of coke in one hand, while the other is tangled into her girlfriend Emmy’s. And From his left Remus can hear Fabian ribbing Frank on his crush on Alice, while Benjy scoots intermittently closer as they watch Kingsley and Marlene sparring over something to do with a Kardashian or TikTok trend or whatever the fuck else— The guy has resilience, Remus has to give Benjy that.

“Right, who’s buying next?” Marlene asks, abrasive as ever while scrolling through her phone, ostensively finding something to prove her point against the managing editor.

“Reckon it’s my turn,” Benjy crows, standing up smoothly and glancing down at Remus with a nervous sort of half grin.

“Just a water for me, ta. I need to sober up,” Remus tells him, feels proud that he didn’t even slur slightly. Benjy bobs his head understandingly, and Remus turns to ask Marlene about her latest tinder hookup which always is a good laugh, but then he catches on it. On the sound of the pub’s doors flinging open, followed by a raucous crowd of athletic looking guys probably only a bit older than he is, clambering indoors.

They’re all so very sixth-form, broad grins and slapping each other’s shoulders with jeers, topped off with loud, bark like laughter that makes it obvious to Remus that these wankers think that they’re some sort of group of gods amongst men, roaming around like everyone should fall to their feet and offer everything they have. It makes Remus roll his eyes so far back that it feels like he might’ve sprained them. They just give off this exhausting aura that reminds him of a past boyfriend in tenth year who was on the footie team and who’s favorite activity was either making Remus feel lucky enough to go out with someone so popular, or dragging him around like some sort of bloody trophy.

To put it nicely, Remus sorta hates them on sight. So when he sees one of the tossers— regrettably the brightest of the lot who’s all pearly teeth, and glittering eyes and incredibly impressive shoulders that tape off to a narrow waste in an objectively infuriating matter— swivels up to the barkeep and jostles Benjy on his way, well Remus doesn’t hesitate to dart forwards to tell him off.

“Oi, watch where you’re going, yeah?”

Benjy and the bloke who looks like he might moonlight as a model for Calvin briefs for when he’s not lounging in a yacht off the Tuscany coast, both turn to him at the same time. Benjy looking abashed, and the aforementioned tosser preening like the cat who’s just caught a canary.

“Sorry, love. Didn’t see you there,” he says in a delightfully deep tenner, giving Remus an appreciative once over, and Remus absolutely despises how the action makes him feel both thrilled and irritated. “Trust and believe, I wouldn’t have looked away if I saw you.”

“Not me, arse.” Remus spits back, refuses to pay any credence to how his cheeks have begun to flush. “You bumped into my mate right there, the one with the tray of loggers.”

The tosser darts his almost molten gray eyes over to Benjy for a sparing second before he laser focusses back onto Remus, the most phony expression of contrition all over his face. “Sorry to your friend,” he says the descriptor like a joke that no one else is in on. “Let me buy you a drink in sorry for the one I made slim here spill.”

Remus is officially unimpressed, hopes that his flat tone gets it across. “You’re an arse.”

“You’re mouthy,” he retorts, looks like it’s something he greatly appreciates— delights over even.

“Ah, ’s fine Remus, really. I’ll just bring these back and get us a new glass.”

“Listen to slim, Remus, he’s got the right idea.” The tosser hurriedly interjects, strutting close enough to him that he makes it so Remus has to tip his head back just slightly so not to drop his gaze. “I’m Black, Sirius Black, just to get the pleasantries out of the way.” His leer tells Remus that the name should probably evoke some response of aw into Remus, but all it does is make him sound so egregiously pretentious that Remus wants to smack his own bloody head against a dry wall and stay in the hole until this ruddy Sirius bloke leaves him the hell alone.

“Good for you,” he says instead of all of that, and spots Sirius’s friends from behind Sirius chuckling and elbowing one another. Evidently this is a line the tosser uses frequently, and Remus is pleased that he might be one of the first who aren’t at all impressed by the grandiose way he introduced himself.

“Hah, you know I’m use to the pretty ones playing hard to get, but I’m really feeling here that you’re not exactly liking my company, love.”

Remus sucks in a frustrated breath through his nose, shouldering past Sirius and taking the tray of drinks from Benjy before storming back to their table where the others have begun openly gawping at the scene— Marlene outright squawking with Fabian just as Remus takes his seat.

“Don’t,” Remus warns them all as he silently says fuck off to the water and instead gargles down one of the loggers. And if he has to steadfastly not turn around for the rest of the night towards where he can feel Sirius’s gaze burning into his back— well then so be it.

The next morning, Remus has to puke twice into the toilet, and gulps down three aspirins just to stave off his bloody hangover from the night before where he decided that getting properly sloshed would prove as a good technique to not end up making out with Sirius in some dark corner— or regrettably the backseat of his car. And if he does still remember flashes of ranting to him about how insufferable preppy, rich boys actually are while Sirius gazed at him endeared— well Remus just decides to purge it out along with the stomach acid. It’s not like he’ll ever see the douche again.

He meets Arthur— one of the accountants who also helps out by taking photos for more low key news stories— outside the hospital where the conference will be taking place with the Manchester United team. There was a scrimmage that they all played with some of the kids in the cancer ward that occurred at around eight in the ruddy morning, but thankfully Remus didn’t have to show up until an hour later when the team presented their big shiny check, to the big, shiny hospital.

However, Arthur has been here for hours, so he’s beyond chirpy and looks like he’s downed three cups of espresso as he chatters on about his son Percy starting secondary school, and his eldest, Bill, getting an award for his reading prowess, and all the strange craving his wife has been having throughout her pregnancy with the twins they’re expecting any week now. And Remus loves Arthur, he does— one of the sweetest folks he’s ever met— but God, his head is still thrumming from those misguided tequila shots and he really just wants to get his three quotes, and write up the story so he can find refuge back in his sheets.

While Arthur has moved to talking about his wife, Molly’s, plans to open up a daycare in their refurnished garage, Remus scans his eyes over the familiar face of reporters from other outlets who look just as bored as him, and then to the stage where a woman in a sharply pressed suit is ushering for the group of football stars to join her, so that the conference can finally fucking begin.

And Remus thinks that their faces are sorta familiar, probably from all the publicity they get on the telly— but then he freezes as he stops at one of them with dark brown skin, and thick rimmed spectacles— and he suddenly can hear him chatting about his redheaded girlfriend and drunkenly declaring that she’ll be the mother of his children some day soon. So he completely expects it when his stomach drops as he moves his glance just a bit to the right, being struck by pearly teeth, and glittering eyes and incredibly impressive shoulders that tape off to a narrow waste, made all the more infuriating by the tight kit he’s got on and the blazing number twelve splayed against his chest.

And fuck.

Remus runs through about a dozen scenarios in which he can make a discrete, or not so discrete exit before he notices him, but in tandem to his spiraling thoughts, the wanker actually looks forwards, and like a creepy metal detector, his quick silver gaze pinpoints onto Remus.

They stare at one another for a beat before his smirk goes wolfish, and he runs a hand through his artfully tousled hair in a way that practically screams, fancy meeting you here. And holy fuck he looks so mouth watteringly attractive with that faint film of sweat running down his neck, and how his smile pulls slightly more to the left, and how he’s looking at Remus like he’s his birthday and Christmas presents all rolled into one.

Remus suddenly hates everything— but most of all hates Sirius, and how bloody fit he is.

“Oh, you’re a fan then?”

Starting, Remus shifts around slightly so that he’s facing Arthur completely. “Pardon?”

“Sirius Black I mean, you’re a fan?” Arthur asks in that abrasively congenial and intensely scrutinizing way that he treats everything. “I mean he’s a great player, but I know you don’t really watch. So I bet it’s all that charity work he does, yeah?”

“Charity work?” Remus echos, feeling like a floundering fish.

“Truly some amazing stuff.” Arthur pontificates, rubbing a hand against his jaw as he tips his head back. “I mean obviously I’m partial to the fundraising for Reporters Without Borders, but of course the things he does with the more impoverished kids is great. And I know Molly likes his very outspoken posts about being anti war and his annual live streams to earn money for refugees in those war torn nations, like the last one he did for Syria?”

“Oh—“ Remus says, feeling like his head is being overrun by a fountain of new information.

“Yes well, you don’t usually see athletes get into the thick of it with political issues, but I reckon he never really minded. I mean the fact he’s the first football star from United to have come out without any fanfare really proved that. Oh, I think they’re starting, I should probably get some photos before Dorcas gives me a tongue lashing.”

And as quick as the flash of his camera’s lends, Arthur is using his considerable height to get to a more advantageous spot towards the front, and leaves Remus in the dust, as if he hasn’t just obliterated his every assumption of Sirius from after that initial meeting.

And unbidden, the words his mother had told him so many years ago, about facts and how they can color a situation just simply based off the person who’s speaking them— flood to the forefront of his mind.

“Fucking hell,” Remus mutters lowly, gets jostled by Greengrass, a hawkish reporter from a rivaling publication who always has on the most wickedly sharp acrylic nails, and perfectly quaffed curls— as she waves around her certification to speak her inquiry.

“My question is for Potter,” she announces when the woman leading the event, McGonagall, points her way. “And I was wondering how early you boys have to rise for training during the season? And how intense the sessions are that Coach Hooch puts you guys through?”

Potter, the one with the redheaded girlfriend that Remus heard so much about last night between his ranting at Sirius, parts his lips, but it’s not his voice that ends up reverberating through the outdoors space. Instead, it’s Sirius, who’s shouldering him with a goading air, obviously expecting his comment to have only ended up in Potter’s ear and not caught by the mike.

“I wonder if Lupin will let me wake up with’m so he can let me get some real training done before practices, eh?”

And just as soon as his words pitter off, the entire crowd drops to a hush— quiet enough so that they could probably hear it if a pen dropped.

Sirius’s handsome face— strong jawline, and broad but sharp cheekbones, and a long, narrow nose— goes suddenly ashen, and he flashes over to Remus as if he’s terrified that he’ll bite his face off.

God, what an idiot.

With a long suffering sigh, Remus plucks out the microphone from a slack faced Greengrass’s hand. “We can discuss the regimen afterwards, Black. Just meet me by the front doors and let your mate answer the bloody question.”

Everyone around them falls into laughter that’s caught between uncomfortable chuckles and amazingly amused cackling, but the only person Remus is paying any mind is Sirius, and how he seems to have gone absolutely incandescent, nodding electrically before miming the zip of his lips and gesturing for Potter to carry on.

Jesus help him, Remus has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist

~Buy Me A Coffee

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #SIRIUSXREMUS #REMUSXSIRIUS #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #THE HARRY POTTER SERIES #MARAUDERS #HARRY POTTER SERIES #ILU Victoria!!!#also to anyone side eyeing the buy me a coffee plz do not judge me #i am so searing embarrassed about it #rip #just it's there i guess #calls;jalksdgjaeowifjsadlkgh #look away from me #!!!#lmfao #spilt ink

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cheegu3 · 3 years

Text

~ Yandere Hyunjin - X31 [CULT SPECIAL 2/2 PTS]

tw / trigger warning: yandere themes, cult themes (brainwashing etc), violence, blood/gore, murder, disturbing themes, swearing

wc: 3k

a/n: so I’m a bit tipsy and wrote this just like really quickly idek what’s going on or if this is shit lmao sorry, I will proofread this tomorrow mwah love u

summary: the gang from your hometown that you knew as criminals had now kidnapped you and as they take you to their destination you soon find out they’re actually a cult, will you be able to escape or will you become their pet forever?

‘‘ You’re..them ‘‘ you muttered at last somehow sounding disbelieved.

‘‘ You must’ve known right? At least a part of you knew all along ‘‘ he answered with a smirk.

You huffed.

‘‘ If I knew, don’t you think I would’ve fought back harder than I did? ‘‘ you looked at him coldly.

‘‘ Well actually- ‘‘ he leaned in closer to you, so close that you could see your own reflection in his crazy, empty brown eyes.

‘‘ I think you wanted this ‘‘ he adds.

‘‘ W-what are you fucking crazy? ‘‘ you exclaimed hysterically, the panic was overtaking your body every second that passed.

He nodded and the smirk was back again as if he enjoyed seeing you like this. You bet he had seen way worse captures of his, who suffered a lot more.

‘‘ You want to know why? ‘‘ he asked tauntingly.

He didn’t even give you a chance to answer before he went on.

‘‘ You’re a lonely pathetic woman in her 20s. You have no job, no money, no boyfriend or husband and no family ‘‘ he said this in such a mocking manner that it took you aback. You felt like your whole body went cold, like you were an insect under his magnifying glass and after he had inspected you he crushed you.

This was all too much for you. You tried the best that you could to turn away from him, sort of looking out the window - only, all the windows were covered up and you assumed it was to make you feel disoriented and not see where you were. It was smart, you’d admit that. On top of that the leader had kept you occupied so you didn’t even get the chance to feel what ways the car was turning to somehow name your location.

He didn’t say anything more for the rest of the ride except for a low,

‘‘ I’m Hyunjin. The leader ‘‘

Then he left you alone, you weren’t sure if he was watching you but it sure felt like his eyes never left you, even when you were turned so that you couldn’t see him in the corner of your eye, the feeling of his gaze lingered.

Not long after, the van came to an abrupt stop throwing you forwards slightly. The doors were slid open revealing the familiar guys from before. Only three of them were in the doorway now though, one shorter one with freckles, the other shorter one with a mean and stern looking face and one that looked like a golden retriever. As you looked at them you wondered how they had ended up here in this gang. They were once normal people just like yourself, what happened to them? Perhaps...they were kidnapped like yourself and they would try to make you one of them?

‘‘ Get out ‘‘ the mean looking one barked at you and then said to Hyunjin ‘‘ We’re here master. Everything is ready ‘‘

The leader reached over again to unbuckle your seatbelt but he wasn’t really looking at you this time, he seemed to be in a hurry. In fact he seemed to be so stressed when you had stepped out that he swept you off your feet. You yelped in surprise but he wasted no time, walking straight away towards the buildings doors.

It looked like it was some kind of abandoned church. It was worn down and dark, covered in graffiti and had several white sheets covering up the window. You shivered at the creepy vibe it gave off, it looked like the perfect place for a gang.

As your group approached the entry doors, two of the guys from before hurried up in front to hold the doors open for Hyunjin and you. You felt him walk again and you tried to turn from your place in his arms to look around. You gasped.

People in masks and dark cloaks stood in a circle around some kind of table. The walls were dirty and worn out just like the outside and the familiar church seats didn’t look very familiar anymore, they were filled with clutter like books and candles. More candles decorated the walls and it had weird drawn symbols in white and red, which looked too much like blood.

You desperately tried to crawl out but his arms clinging onto you only got harder, tightening the grip. You were coming closer and closer to the group who had now turned when they noticed your presence. The group split in the middle, making way for you to pass through. You heart dropped when you had passed by the people.

Right there was an altar. It had old dry blood ingrained in it all over. By how the dried blood looked like it had run down the sides, you thought about how much blood there had to have been there, they probably killed someone and the thought of it makes you sick.

He sat you down unexpectedly gentle and stepped back slightly while looking at you. You felt like there wasn’t a chance in hell to escape with the mob getting ever so closer as the seconds passed, soon they’d be suffocating you although it felt like their mere presence was already doing that.

‘‘ W-what, where am I...Hyunjin ‘‘ you said his name slowly as if trying it out.

His expressions didn’t change, he looked cold like he had done that same night you met him.

‘‘ Y/n, I’ve had my eyes on you for a long time. Planning, waiting for the perfect moment to take you away ‘‘ he explained calmly.

You didn’t say anything but when he said he’d been watching you for a long time you felt chills down your spine again. You didn’t feel safe here and you didn’t know what they wanted.

‘‘ Master decided to save you ‘‘ one of the mob whispered in an almost hysteric voice.

They looked really riled up or quite frankly, crazy - from the way they got closer and closer and how they looked at their leader with so much admiration, like he was some sort of God.

‘‘ Save me? ‘‘ you asked looking straight at Hyunjin to try to read his face.

You thought that maybe they were just joking but he still didn’t move a muscle. He took a deep breath before speaking again.

‘‘ You see, all the people out there they’re really bad people. They have turned to the false God and I’m the only one who can save you ‘‘ he answered fairly casually studying your face and reaction to what he had said.

‘‘ Uh, false God? ‘‘

‘‘ Jesus and his father ‘‘

You huffed. It still felt like a joke but the people surrounding you made you doubt it. Either they were really good actors or this crazy man had taken advantage of vulnerable people and brainwashed them into worshipping him.

‘‘ He’s evil and tries to mask his evil words with acts of ‘‘ kindness ‘‘ ‘’ he air-quoted the word kindness and looked truly annoyed as he explained this to you.

You weren’t really sure how to respond.

‘‘ I...Appreciate that and what you do but I would like to go home now, is that okay? ‘‘ you tried.

‘‘ No ‘‘

Silence followed. You felt like the mob were silently judging you and maybe even hated you because you got all this attention from their precious leader.

‘‘ U-um well I do have to go, I’m not interested sorry ‘‘ you swung your legs over the stone seat and put your feet on the ground below.

He didn’t move from his spot which made you hopeful, but then when you approached the mob expecting them to step aside for you to pass - they didn’t. They stood just as still, just like him. You saw him turn to you and then felt a hard grip around your forearm.

He was angry but you also saw some hint of disgust in his eyes.

‘‘ See everyone how grateful you are that I saved you, see what could’ve become of you. We’ve got a lot of work to do with this one ‘‘ he said to the mob while staring into your eyes. He smirked for a moment and that’s when you realised, this was a cult.

He was fully aware of the truth vs made up things and how he affected all these people but you supposed he liked the power. It made you sick yet again to think about how many lives he had ruined by spewing such nonsense.

His loyal followers all shouted in union,

‘‘ Yes master! ‘‘

Before Hyunjin started to drag you to a doorway at the opposite side of the room. It felt like his grip was getting tighter and tighter and you groaned quietly at the pain, it was sure to leave bruises but you knew he didn’t care - he had probably left a fair amount of bruises on his followers before.

He took you through the doorway and turned to the right. You reached a long stone corridor that felt very creepy. He kept dragging you until he had gotten to the room at the end of the corridor. There, he still kept his iron grip on you while fumbling in his pockets to take out a silver key.

‘‘ This is where you will be staying ‘‘

Anger bubbled up inside you. Who is he to decide that he was gonna ‘’ save you ‘’ to kidnap you and to order you around without you having a choice? It made you feel so belittled, and because of it you hated him already and what made it worse is the fact that you were pretty sure he enjoyed it.

He shoved you in and closed the door behind him swiftly without turning his back to you, smart, he didn’t even give you one opportunity to escape him.

‘‘ Tomorrow will be your first ritual, you should be excited ‘‘ he gave you a small smile.

You wanted to punch him so bad, to kick and scream and to run for your life. The room he had pushed you into was as cold-stoned as the corridor had been, literally. It looked like an old-school prison cell in those castles with stone floor, walls and ceiling. The windows were barred shut and was way too high up for you to reach anyway.

The only thing that made it look anything other than a prison cell was the double bed in the middle of the furthest wall. It had scarlet velvet looking covers and looked quite comfortable. In that moment you wanted nothing more than for him to leave so you could let your growing exhaustion take over you and figure out a plan to escape later after resting.

And so he actually did - to your surprise. You suppose it was because of the look of burning hate you had given him this whole time or that you had refused to answer him but whatever the reason, you felt relieved.

He sighed and left, closing the door rather harshly after him but you didn’t even look at him, he didn’t deserve that.

Your head found the pillow automatically and you let your body relax, falling asleep not that long after.

‘‘ Hello? Y/n get the fuck up ‘‘ the distant voice who had been mumbling, or least that’s what it sounded like to you - suddenly started to get louder and clearer.

You body jerked awake when you realised it wasn’t a dream and the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was those brown eyes of the leader himself. He looked annoyed, like you were just a burden to him and the fact that you’d woken up so late was just another inconvenience.

He rolled his eyes.

‘‘ Finally. We haven’t got all day Ms princess ‘‘

You yawned at looked at him still half-asleep. You got up without protesting though because you didn’t want to anger him any more.

You wasted no time and even got dressed in front of him, ignoring his presence while continuing to be in a dazed and tired state.

He seemed to wait as patiently as he could but that didn’t stop him from sending you glares every now and then.

At last you were ready, dressed in a white plain summery dress that had been put out for you to wear. You noticed while walking up to him that he was now wearing very light coloured clothes as well - a strong contrast to the day before. He didn’t have his piercings on, his tattoos were covered and he wore long white linen clothes. You gagged at the thought of him picking out clothes just so you would match.

‘‘ Come on ‘‘ he mumbled. His patience seemed to be running out.

He opened the door and basically pushed you out in front of him, then he closed the door once again and followed quickly. It felt like he was breathing down your neck, not giving you any space to - you assumed - not make you get away. You ignored him being that close and focused on his directions instead. He told you to go back the same way you had come from and out of the church, into a garden where the ‘’ ceremony ‘’ as he called it would happen.

You stayed silent and walked to where he wanted you to. The church was empty, which was a bit odd but you kept going until you laid your hands on the big doors again and pushed it open.

You recognised the place you had been at yesterday, even the car was still there. But you couldn’t do anything, not even get close to the car before Hyunjin barked his orders,

‘‘ Right. Then walk straight to the garden. No stopping ‘‘ and you reacted like a robot, casting one last sorrowful look at a possible escape route.

You followed his directions and walked into a clearing in the forest the church had been hiding behind itself. The mob was there again.

Of course

You thought yourself and couldn’t stop your hand from forming a fist. More people, less chance of escaping. But where else would they be if not by the side of their precious leader?

They gave you very genuinely happy smiles which freaked you out and you smiled back awkwardly to not feel like you were being rude. As you approached the group Hyunjin put his fingertips to your upper back guiding you forwards, or rather to the middle of the circle again who parted once you got close, allowing you to pass through.

Then you spotted it, another altar.

But this time you weren’t really scared, until Hyunjin told you lay down on it and his words from before rang in your head over and over again,

‘‘ Tomorrow will be your first ritual, you should be excited ‘‘

Fuck

What was going to happen to you now?

‘‘ Welcome everyone ‘’ he started off his speech, turning to the gathered crowd.

‘’ We’ve gathered here today to make a union, to forever bond the master, the greatest, to y/n, the princess ‘‘

Your head was spinning. It felt like the coldness of the stone you were laying on had transferred to your blood, making it ice cold. You weren’t even sure if you were alive anymore or if this was possibly just a dream.

‘‘ Y/n? ‘‘ he suddenly called out which caught your attention.

You turned your head to him, tears threatening to fall any second now.

‘‘ I have to do this, for us to be together forever ‘‘ he said this in an almost pitiful way and your gut knew what was coming but you didn’t want to believe it.

You were going to fight and be optimistic until the last second.

‘‘ You first, then me okay? If you keep still this will be quicker ‘‘ the fact that he looked truly sorry made you forget for a moment what kind of person he was.

He walked up to you and you got so enhanced in his eyes, it was easy to see how all the other people had believed his lies. You were even ready to accept your faith, and so you did the only thing you could - you closed your eyes and waited.

You weren’t sure but you think you heard him say ‘’ good girl ‘’ under his breath. You also heard some distant hushed talking and some items being scraped together but you held you breath and kept your eyes closed, it was for the best.

No closed eyes or deep breaths could’ve prepared you for what came next though,

the pain was unbearable. A cold metal that was sharp penetrated your chest causing you to scream out.

‘‘ Stop! Stop! Stop! ‘‘

Hyunjin hushed you comfortingly and stroke your hair slowly, placing small kisses to your forehead but you barely felt them - the pain was so overpowering it felt like it was the only thing you felt.

Eventually when your breaths started becoming more heavy and your vision started to get blurrier, you opened your eyes one last time. You saw the man you had started to hate in such a short time, now...he was your killer.

Then you closed your eyes again and waited and waited while it felt like the liquid had decorated your entire body, hell maybe even the whole forest.

At last, after much suffering

the world did become black and you were finally at peace.

#yandere #yandere kpop #kpop yandere #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids yandere #kpop #kpopidol #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #hyunjin

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mrsbrookegillespie · 3 years

Text

+Homework+ Luke x Fem!Reader

(Not My Gif)

Description:When Y/N’s progress report comes out it seems as though their mom isn’t happy with the letters that follow each subject. So when they have to cancel on her friends band rehearsal to do their assignments it leads to an interesting encounter with the brunette guitarist of Julie and the Phantoms.

Warning: Stress, school, bad grades, mild angst, mostly fluff.

+Homework+

Luke is not someone to judge another for having bad grades, considering what his report cards looked like, and the fact he dropped out of high school at seventeen. But, Y/N has two more years left in school, despite her age, and frankly… She’s struggling. “What’s this?” her mother asks, showing her an email.

“Those are… My grades?” Y/N shrugs, avoiding the small letters that labeled her as dumb, and lazy.

“Y/N! You need to start getting serious about this. You’re going to flunk out!” Y/N internally winces at her mother shouting at her. “I’m very disappointed about this…”

“Well,” Y/N starts. “I’ll do it!” She bites her lip, sliding away from her desk. “Tomorrow,” she adds, looking at the time. “I promised Julie I’d watch band practice today.” Her mom gives her a blank stare.

“Y/N! We’ve been very laid back with you, you’ve never been grounded or anything, but right now I want you to stay at home, and get your missing work done.”

“But--”

“No!”

Her mom closes the door on the way out, leaving Y/N feeling the stress of school. She grabs her phone, clicking Julie’s contact. “Hey! Are you almost here?” Julie asks.

“I can’t make it…” Y/N breathes out.

“What?!” Julie exclaims. “But, you promised to be here today, we’re performing tomorrow, you know?” The disappointment radiates through the phone.

“I know! And I will be there for that, because that’s really important, but I just can’t make it today.” Y/N is too embarrassed to say the reason why. Julie has amazing grades, and is insanely talented, and she might be a little jealous of that, mostly because she gets to spend extra time with Luke who Y/N has heart eyes for. But, his eyes are for someone else. Julie.

“No, she’s not coming,” she answers the muffled voice in the background. “I don’t know!” she groans. “The boys wanted me to ask you if you’re okay, which are you?”

“Yes! I’m fine, just go rehearse, even though you guys don’t really need it, I know you’ll rock tomorrow--” Y/N gets cut off by her door swinging open.

“Y/N! Homework! Now!” her mom orders.

“I’m just telling Julie I can’t make it,” Y/N argues. “I gotta go.”

“Oh, okay, well, we all miss you over here,” she affirms.

“Yeah, I miss you all too, but we did see each other today, so… I miss the boys.”

Julie laughs. “I’ll tell them that, especially you know who.” Y/N can sense Julie’s smirk when she speaks.

Y/N chokes on a bit of her saliva. “Julie! I-I have to go.” She hangs up. “Why me?” she asks whatever higher power could possibly be listening to the teenage girl.

She plops down on her desk chair.

“What to start with?” Her eyes scan her To-Do List she’s already made, it’s not as much as she thought, but it’s definitely time consuming and very boring. Some of her teachers have already reached out to her, but she chooses to ignore their offers of help. She’s scared she’ll say something they’ll find stupid, or won’t understand.

And so she has to skip her favorite part of the day, to do Algebra, and History and Biology, and…

“So, why couldn’t she come today?” Luke asks, tuning his guitar on the couch.

“Eh, I didn’t ask her,” Julie admits.

“Why not?” Luke gives her a pointed look, his movements faltering.

“She would’ve told me if it was that important,” she claims. She looks off, before seeing him go back to his previous state. “Luke, you've been tuning that guitar for half an hour, I think it’s good.”

He rolls his eyes.

“So, Y/N really can’t come today?” Reggie asks, saddened over the news. “But, she never misses a rehearsal unless it’s family, or school related.”

Luke finally stops, setting down his guitar. “Wait,” he starts. “Didn’t progress reports come out today?”

Everyone looks at him weirdly. “How do you know that?” Alex questions, spinning his drumstick.

“Oh--uh.” He scratches the back of his head. “When I visited Julie at school the other day, I heard something about it.”

Julie turns his head towards him. “Are you talking about when Y/N said something about it to Flynn? A couple feet away from us? Yeah I heard her too, because I was facing her.” She crosses her arms. “I think someone has a crush,” she teases, smiling widely.

“What?!” A subtle blush paints over his cheeks. “I don’t like Y/N like that, she’s--she’s just a good friend.”

“Oh come on!” Alex joins. “It’s so obvious, don’t think I don’t notice when you stare at her.” He sends a wink to Luke.

“Or when you talk about her,” Reggie adds. “Which is all the time.”

“Just tell her,” Julie advises.

“Tell her?” Luke repeats, giving her a look of disbelief. “I don’t think you’ve guys noticed, but I’m dead, and she’s very much alive.”

“So?! Everyone knows you two are completely in love with each other, so give it a shot,” Julie urges, also knowing her friend's infatuation with the guitarist.

Luke chuckles. “She doesn’t like me, she rarely talks to me, to be honest I think she hates me.”

“You rarely talk to her,” Julie points out. “And ‘to be honest’ I think she thinks you hate her.” Luke’s posture caves hearing Julie’s words. “Are we going to get started now?”

Everyone nods.

Throughout practice Luke found his mind wandering back to the previous conversations the band had. A warm feeling would build in his stomach for a movement when he would think about the fact that Y/N likes him, or at least his friends think so. “Luke!” Alex shouts, snapping Luke out of his thoughts. “Practice is over,” he informs.

"It is?!” His eyes widened when an idea popped into his mind. “Well, won’t you look at that, it is over, and I completely forgot I made plans, bye!” Luke poofs out, landing in a girly room, but has a certain vibe to it.

“Luke!” Y/N shrieks, putting a hand over her heart. “What are you doing here?” she whisper-yells.

“T-the--” he snaps his fingers. “The guys wanted someone to check in on you, and Alex is hanging out with Willie, and Reggie is Reggie so… I volunteered.” He sways back and forth against his ankles. “Sooo… How are you doing?” He strolls up to her smoothly, placing an arm on the back of her chair.

“Luke… You are a terrible liar,” she asserts. “But, if you really want to know. I’m not doing too well.”

He frowns. “Why?”

“School,” she sighs. “We got our progress reports, and I’m not doing too well.” She tries to hide the paper from Luke.

“Y/N, don’t be embarrassed, I’m sure it’s not that bad.” He plucks the paper from under her arm. His reassuring smile slowly faded. “There’s… Room for improvement?” He shrugs.

“Get out,” Y/N mutters.

Luke’s heart plummeted. “What?”

“I said get out,” she repeats, harshly. “I get it, I’m dumb, and I’m lazy, and I don’t do my work. I get it. So, just leave.” Tears threatened to fall from her eyes. “I’m serious Luke.” Her voice cracks a little.

Guilt washed over him when he saw the effect his words take on her. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. He reaches out to hug her, but he instead goes straight through her.

Y/N doesn’t notice his attempt of this action, instead boring her eyes at the paper in front of her. “Luke, I said just go.” She rubs her forehead.

He didn’t move though, he instead started looking over the paper she hadn't touched. “Twenty-three,” he answers.

“What?” she chokes out.

“The answer, it’s twenty-three.” He looks at her, a little self-conscious. “Look, just because I didn’t have the best grades, or didn’t do work, didn’t mean I was dumb, so stop telling yourself that. We’re not so different you know.”

She scrunches her face. “How’d you get that?” she asks. “The answer to the question.”

His eyes light up when she accepts his explanation, not asking him to leave again. “So… I just did…”

He talks through the problem, asking Y/N if she understands when her eyes widen. He noticed she does that when she’s getting confused, or is not fully processing the words. As they go through each subject, him helping her, or giving his opinion on things. She started to find herself smiling, and having fun? “Wow,” he whispers, reading a poem. “You just wrote this?”

She nods. “Yeah, I know, it’s not that great.”

“No! It’s really good for something you wrote in five minutes,” he compliments, rereading the poem in his head. “Who knew you were such a romantic?” he teases.

Y/N feels her cheeks warm up. “That’s actually the first time I’ve heard that.”

“So, who’d you write it about?” he asks. He partially dreaded asking the questions. He didn’t want to picture her ever describing someone that wasn’t him in such a beautiful context. “C’mon, you can tell me, what am I going to do? Tell my ghost friends.”

Y/N giggles. “I--uh… Someone?” It comes out more as a question.

“Name?”

“Why you want to know so bad, huh?” she blurts, with a smirk. “Why? You jealous?” She knew he wasn’t, but the thought made her whole body catch on fire.

Luke, surprised by her sudden cockiness, sends her a smirk right back. “Well, what if I am?”

She scoffs. “Yeah, right,” she murmurs.

He tilts his head. “What is that supposed to mean?”

She gives him a ‘really’ look. “Luke, c’mon…” She waits for him to say something like ‘you’re right, I’m joking’, or anything along those lines, but he just stares back with the same intensity she has.

“What do you want me to say?”

The question lingers in Y/N’s mind. I want you to say you like me. That’s what she wanted to tell him, that’s what she wanted to hear. “Nothing,” she mumbles. “Absolutely nothing.”

He cracks a smile. “Just tell me!” After that he keeps repeating it over and over again.

“I want you to say you like me!” she shouts.

His eyes widened, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable, he seemed in awe of the situation. “Why are you shouting?” Y/N’s mom asks, rushing in.

“Because I’ve gotten ten assignments turned in!” Y/N cheers trying to ignore Luke giving her a big smile, seriously, it’s scary how wide it is.

“I like you too,” he whispers, her heart dropping. It’s like he couldn’t contain his little secret for any longer, but now it leaves Y/N impatient as her mom stares down at her on the bed.

“That’s good! she assures. “Though it would’ve been better if you turned them in on time, but at least they’re in.” Y/N nods at her mom's backhanded compliment. “Anyways, dinners ready.”

“Ah, yes.” Y/N shuts her laptop. “I forgot humans have to eat.”

“Can I stay?” Luke asks.

“In my room,” she answers.

“You’re going to eat in your room?” her mom asks.

“Can you?” Luke perks up, hearing it. “Just say you want to finish your work, because you’re already in the groove, or something!” His eyes are pleading Y/N to stay with him, leaving her almost speechless.

“Y-yeah,” she stutters. “There’s a few more things I want to do before I call it a night, and I’m kind of in… ‘The Groove’,” she discreetly ridicules the boy next to her that’s invisible to her mom's eyes.

“Okay, just come down when you’re ready.”

Y/N sighs of relief when she hears the door shut quietly. “So, you like me?” She was slightly breathless from the beautiful boy so close to her.

“Yeah,” he responds. His eyes didn’t meet hers though.

“You don’t seem sure,” she judges.

His gaze locks with her. “I’m just nervous,” he reveals. “You make me really nervous. I thought you hated me just an hour ago, and now…”

She gapes at him. “I thought you hated me!”

“That’s what Julie said,” he adds, pointing towards her.

Y/N jolts her body away from him. “You spoke about me with Julie?” As if she summoned her, Julie’s contact lights up her phone. “Hello,” she answers.

“Is Luke over there?” she asks. “Sorry! Hi, it’s just the boys were worried.” Y/N sneaks a glimpse towards Luke who can’t seem to take his eyes off of her, it’s like he’s trying to memorize every single part of her body.

“He’s not, but I had a question for you.” Luke looks at Y/N confused as to why she lied. “Did you guys talk about anything earlier? He was acting weird, and you know with you being good friends with him, and us being the best of friends, I wanted to know.”

“Oh my God!” she exclaims. “He was out of it the entire rehearsal after we told him you weren’t going to be there, and he was all worried, and concerned, it was adorable. Dude is so in love with you it’s insane. I mean even Reggie and Alex were talking about how he talks about you, and how he stares at you, and how he’s so invested in you. I’d say he’s obsessed.”

Y/N lets out a victorious hum. “Good to know, well, I’ll let you know if I see him--oh wait, he’s right next to me, thanks for the info.” Y/N hangs up.

“She told you about rehearsal didn’t she?” He plays with the rings on his fingers, a nervous habit he picked up.

“Yep.” Y/N pops the ‘p’. “She said you’re obsessed with me.”

“Not true!” he argues. “Sort of…” He pouts. “Not in a creepy way though!” He tries to grab her hand, but it goes straight through. “This will be interesting.”

“Yeah,” Y/N agrees. “But, we’ll get through it…”

Luke then learned one thing about himself that night. He was touched-starved.

213 notes · View notes

extremelyblackandwhite · 3 years

Text

innocence - 38

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: angst, smut (18+), oral (male receiving), handjob, slight innocence kink

A/N: not me still not fully recovered from the “you wanna see what i can do with leverage” moment. oof, still gets me heated up. anyway, this smut was mostly inspired by my pinterest board showing me this and this which i feel would be something y/n would wear for bucky. enjoy xx

NEXT CHAPTER

She didn’t know she was running, but she was. She ran off that room before he could catch up to her but through the middle of her thoughts she could hear him yell out for her and run after her. Maybe it was an adrenaline rush, the thought of getting severely hurt or any other thing but she had managed to outrun him, running into the main corridor where everyone was awaiting for the judge to announce the results. As Mr. Hawthorn screaming her name registered in her brain, she rushed to Bucky, taking him by surprise. Out of instinct he wrapped his arms around her, looking down to see her hiding her face in his chest.

As Bucky started to wonder why she had suddenly appeared and even why she had left in the first place, Mr. Hawthorne made his way down the hall yelling out her name made it all the much clearer. Bucky held her slightly behind his back, hand tightly holding hers as the man made his way to them. Bucky held out his metal arm in front of him, stopping Hawthorne from getting any closer to her.

- Give me that phone, Y/N. Now. - he wasn’t yelling, his tone was constant as he starred both Bucky and Y/N down. She moved her phone behind her back, typing while maintaining eye contact with the agency director. - I said ...

- Back off, man. - Bucky tried to remain calm, he knew having a major fight or even yelling at the man in front of him wouldn’t put him in a good spot. However, he’d be caught dead if he allowed that man to even dare to touch his wife.

- C’mon, Y/N. You wanna play with leverage? At least step away from your guard dog and confront me or are you already too comfortable with being a housewife?

- You wanna see what I can do with leverage? - Bucky pushed him slightly backwards but Y/N stopped him before he could do anything else, squeezing his hand and handing out the man in front of the two of them her phone. Before Bucky could even complain about getting her phone back, Mr. Hawthorne left the two of them in a fast pace. - What the fuck was that? What did he do? Why did you give him your phone?

- Trust me, okay? - she cupped his face, leaning her forehead against his when she wasn’t even sure if what she did was going to work. Her eyes darted slightly across the hall, seeing Chuck with the lawyer but quickly returned to Bucky. - I love you.

- What’s wrong, princess? Hm? What did he do to you?

- I love you too would’ve been nice, Buck. - she teased.

- You know I love you too that’s not the point. You’re trying to distract me. Don’t shut me out.

- I am not shutting you out, Bucky. Nothing happened, it’s fine ... he’s just ... upset at me.

- Why is he upset at you?

- I ...

- Mr. Barnes. - the lawyer approached the two of them, interrupting her just as she was about to start her sentence. - The judge has called everyone in, let’s go.

- Has the jury made a decision? - Y/N’s grip on Bucky’s hand tightened and she was almost frozen on the spot as he started to walk to back to the court room, but she didn’t move.

- Hey, it’s just us, princess. Just us. - Bucky smiled at her, kissing the top of her head but she could barely register things.

She couldn’t hear anything as the two of them walked to the court room’s door where they were separated again with Sharon, Steve, Sam and Chuck accompanying her to the bench while Bucky took off with the lawyer. She sat down on the harsh, cold wood, her heart beating fast as she tried to read Chuck’s face yet she couldn’t. The jury and judge arrived, and suddenly everyone was on their feet, waiting for whatever decision the jury had taken; however, the jury looked confused, almost puzzled by the fact they were back into the court room.

- It has come to my attention that further evidence as been found. As such, bailiff, take the witness Mr. Hawthorne into custody where he will be charged for the harassment and stalking of Y/N Barnes as well as obscuring justice. In the matter of The People vs James Buchanan Barnes, this case is dismissed. Mr. Barnes, you are free to go.

A few oh my gods erupted into the court room which went into complete frenzy as the bailiff took Mr. Hawthorne into custody who merely stared her down and shouted out in disbelief. She turned over to Chuck who took his phone off his pocket and played the exact same audio which she had played to Hawthorne just a few minutes ago.

- I could kiss you. - she hugged her friend, a big smile on her face.

- Please, don’t. I am still largely afraid of your husband, he would crush me like a soda can. Do you want me to die such a painful death? After I had to somehow understand your typo filled text with the worse recorded audio I have heard. Sincerely, Y/N, Bucky would’ve done a better job and he is what? As old as dinosaurs?

- You’re the best. - she kissed her friends cheek before going over to Bucky who was being swarmed by both his friends that had come to congratulate him, his lawyer and some reporters.

She smiled at him, standing in the back of the crowd and catching his eye despite everyone surrounding him. Bucky couldn’t care less about those people surrounding him, congratulating him and even some complaining that he once again had avoided paying for his mistakes. All she cared was catching her eye in the middle of the crowd, as if a spotlight shone onto her.

- I hope you enjoy being being out of a job for 10 years. - Mrs. Olson said as she passed by to probably be with Hawthorne but Y/N didn’t say anything.

She knew what was on the line but she would throw it away for Bucky. If it came between Bucky being free or her career, she would always pick the first option. However, it didn’t sting any less. Yet, this was not about her, not today. Today was Bucky’s day. The day where he got rid of the problem that she had brought upon the two of them and while it was now gone, it still occupied a tiny spot of her mind which screamed at her about her own guilt in this whole situation. The flashes were bright and she kept being pulled to the back as more journalists and reporters tried to get some time with the former Winter Soldier but he avoided them, breaking through the crowd to be with the only person he actually wanted to celebrate this with.

- What did you do, princess? - he wrapped his arms around her, turning to exit the court room and leave all this experience behind. - And don’t say it wasn’t you, the lawyer told me it was you.

- He could be lying.

- You could’ve gotten hurt. Why didn’t you tell me?

- It was just a guess ... I didn’t want to raise your hopes over a guess. I’m sorry. - she leaned her head against his covered arm. - It’s my fault this whole thing happened and I thought if I fixed it, I’d feel better.

- It’s not your fault this happened. You could’ve gotten hurt, he could’ve hurt you and then what?

- He was not going to hurt me. - she scratched her neck. She knew it was a lie, everyone is capable of everything in her business. - I had to do something for you. I am ... I am so tired of being weak.

- You’re not weak, what are you talking about?

- Weren’t you in this trial? They talked about you as if you were some cold blooded murderer and me as if I were the weakest person ever. As if I wasn’t standing in that room and hearing to it. If I could defend myself, if I had put my foot down none of this would’ve happened.

Bucky’s heart broke as he heard her talk, tears pooling in her eyes as what she had been feeling for the past weeks of meeting, court days and witness speeches seemed to finally explode, breaking free from the pressure she had been putting on it so it didn’t show, so she didn’t feel weak. He had never felt weak before, helpless maybe but never weak. Even as the Winter Soldier he could easily overpower his handlers if he wanted to, he could overpower new recruits and pretty much everyone who he was presented with. He’d never felt weak, he’d never know what it was like to feel weak and he had never even considered she felt weak because he just did not see her as weak. She was soft but not weak, she had strength in her softness, in her kindness. She’d done things he couldn’t see himself doing in his mid twenties.

- Hey ... - he flushed her close to him, drawing invisible circles on her back and kissing her temple. - Do you wanna get cheesy chips?

- I need to go say goodbye ...

- It’s fine. - he combed her hair away from her face to kiss her forehead. - I don’t want you to get caught up in a mess with photographers.

- I’m ridiculous. - she cuddled against his side as he led her out the back of the court where he had parked his car. - I should be comforting you, not the other way around.

- You’re not ridiculous. This was as bad for me as it was for you. - he opened the car door for her. - Besides, I love comforting you.

- Really? Because from what I know, you were the one in danger of being in prison for at least 5 years. The only danger for me was trying to get naked during spousal visits.

- Aw, princess. You were willing to get naked in prison, for me?

- You’re ridiculous, Barnes.

- So are you, Mrs. Barnes. - he smirked. - You are not weak and you are not ridiculous. Are we clear?

- Don’t use your sergeant voice on me.

Bucky chuckled, putting the key onto the engine and turning it on as the car started to roar up. She leaned her head against his shoulder, mindlessly listening to the song on the radio, probably one of Bucky’s favourites. On that moment, she didn’t care her career was on hold for the next 10 years because he was here and he was free like he deserved. As he pulled in front of the chippy shop nearby his flat, she perked her head up to kiss the corner of his mouth.

- Can we do takeaway? I wanna go home. - she cuddled against his shoulder once more.

- Sure, princess. Stay in the car and I’ll be right back, yeah?

- Yeah.

He left the car, loosening his tie as he entered the shop, leaving Y/N in the car. She rose her hand up, looking at the wedding band on her finger. It had barely registered in her that she was married, she of all people. She knew she wasn’t attention’s sweet centre and she knew she definitely did not deserve a guy like Bucky. God, in her wildest dreams she’d never thought she’d even end up with a man as caring and thoughtful as he is. It was almost surreal she’d even gotten married without having to fight her agency, at least too much. Her lips stretched in a smile as her husband came out of the shop, a toothy, childish grin on his lip as he waved the brown paper bag on his way to the car door.

He drove the two of them back to the flat and once they were inside, her shoes were thrown to one side as well as his tie and jacket and the couple made themselves comfortable on the couch. Y/N sat on Bucky’s lap, takeaway on her lap while he held his on his hand with the other searched for something to watch on TV, eventually landing on The Honeymooners.

- I need to take you on a honeymoon.

- I don’t need a honeymoon.

- Bullshit. - he held her close by, hearing her giggle through the small digs onto the plastic container. - Where do you wanna go? C’mon, entertain me.

- Hm ... - she looked up, nose slightly scrunched. - Italy.

- I was stationed in Italy for a while. Nice place, great food. Where about?

- There’s this movie called Letters to Juliet, it’s in Verona, and I always thought it looked so romantic.

- Okay, princess. Whenever you want, I’ll take you to Verona and we will have a nice month long honeymoon.

- Month long?

- Yeah. If we go any less, we won’t have time to do any sight seeing.

- Why is that?

- Because I do intend to have sex with you in every part of the hotel we stay in. - he kissed the crook of her neck, taking the takeaway container away from her and placing it on the coffee table. - Maybe even try it in those tiny Italian balconies.

- You just escaped five years of prison and you’re thinking of vouyerism already?

- You shouldn’t look so pretty, then. - he hooked his finger under her chin and turned her face towards him, giving her a long drawn out kiss. His hand climbed up from her thigh up to her dress, pushing the sleeve down to expose her shoulder. His stubble rubbed against her soft kiss as he laid a kiss on the subtle skin of her shoulder.

- Mhm, Buck ... - her hand pushed his shoulder back and he immediately pouted. - I have to shower. I smell like the dusty, mouldy court room and I’d like that smell off me.

- Mind if I join? - he pulled the sleeve off her other shoulder but she held her dress against her chest before it could fall down. - I can give you a massage.

- If I allow you with me in the shower, there will be no showering. - she got off his lap, pushing her dress up. - I’ll be back. Try to keep the pouting to the minimum until I’m back.

- Just so you know, you’ll need another shower after you’re back.

Y/N rolled her eyes, before padding into the bathroom, leaving Bucky on his own in the living room shuffling through various channels. The shower on the background was running until it was running for too long, Bucky turned his head around, looking at the door that led to the bathroom.

- Princess, everything ok? - he prepared to get up and check on her but was. interrupted by her opening the door.

She stood against the door wedge with her typical shyness which made her so endearing to anyone who met her, yet, this time, it was something other than endearment that Bucky was feeling when looking at her. She was dressed in a white corset and knickers with a small floral print and small pink ruffles at the edge of her underwear. The corset was also adorned with a blue ribbon and small blue bow, everything covered in with one of her many short satin robes that she normally used over her pyjamas or over one of Bucky’s shirt which always looked like a dress on her.

- Were you wearing that ... - he cleared his throat, trying not to stare at her perky chest. - Were you wearing that today?

- No, I bought this one in case you won. - she closed the door of the bathroom behind her, padding barefoot over to the couch, standing in front of him, her robe slightly slipping of her shoulder. - Do you like it?

- Fucking hell, princess. - he leaned forward, hands wrapping around her waist to pull her close to him.

- It looks silly, doesn’t it? I don’t know, I just thought I’d wear something nice and do so ... - Bucky interrupted her rambling by kissing her, his hands pushing the robe fully off her and throwing it somewhere in the living room. His hands massaged her thighs and upper body until they were cupping her face, kissing her as if he hadn’t seen in her in ages.

Her hands rest upon his shoulder, lips melded against his in a long, drawn out kiss. She whined as Bucky moved his lips from hers to her jaw and slightly under it, sucking the subtle and sensitive skin he found there. She allowed herself to get lost in the feeling of his slight stubble against her sensitive skin, drawing kisses and leaving hickeys with slightly rough lips. His hands scouted her corset for the square brackets, loosening the garment and pulling it over her head before leaning to kiss her again. She smiled against the kiss, breaking it to look at him which greatly annoyed Bucky, who tried to kiss her again.

- No... - she pushed him back against the couch as he tried to kiss her collarbones. Her hands toyed with the fabric of his shirt, fingers trailing up and down his chest. - Let me do something for you.

- Princess ... - she ignored his pleas and attempts to pull her in and distribute more kisses all over her body.

Instead she climbed off his lap, standing on her knees in front of him, eyes looking up to him with a devious like innocence which was intoxicating to him. Her hands ran up his thighs, nails racking over the fabric of his trousers until they reached his belt. She bite her lip, unbuckling the accessory and tossing it aside before pushing his trousers down along with his underwear. She gripped his cock in her hand, her finger swiping the pre-cum off his tip before he started to move her hand slowly up and down.

- Oh fuck ... - Bucky groaned, throwing his head back with his eyes shut. She smirked at this reaction, continuing to move her hand up and down in a painfully slow motion.

Bucky groaned and moaned, head pressed against the headrest of the couch, eyes closed and lips opened. Her confidence grew at the sight of her completely blissed out husband and she stopped her motions. Before Bucky could whine about it, she kitten licked his tip before licking a broad stripe up his cock eliciting a low grumble from him. He looked down at his wife through half closed eyes, locking eye contact with her. Y/N gave him an innocent smile with innocent eyes before taking him in her mouth. Bucky breathed out, high gasp as his hand gripped onto the couch cushions. He moved his hips forward unconsciously, his cock hitting the back of her throat. She breathe through her nose as she bobbed her head up and down his cock slowly, cheeks hollowed out as she made it upon the spot.

- Fuck, princess. Fuck, you’re so good, fucking hell. - Bucky breath harshly as she picked up the pace, her movements almost matching up with his breathing tempo until she started to vigorously suck his tip, getting him almost shaking before returning to take him inside her mouth once more. - Fuck, stop. Stop.

- Did I do something wrong? - she pushed her hair behind her ears.

- Come here. - Bucky helped her up and on top of his lap, pushing her underwear down her legs before he did so. She held herself up by holding onto his shoulders, staying slightly taller than him as he holstered her up.

She looked down as he looked up, his eyes gazing onto hers as he lowered her down onto his hard cock, silencing her whimpers with a consuming kiss. Her skin seemed to flush hot and cold at the same time as he filled her to a halt. Bucky let her accommodate to his size, kissing down from her lips to her collarbones.

- Fuck, you’re pretty. - he panted, moving to kiss her neck while his hands held her still. - So fucking pretty, princess.

- Bucky, please ... move. - she hide her head in the space between his shoulder and neck, a hot flush settling in her cheeks.

- I’m not gonna ... fuck ... I’m not gonna move if you hide, princess. - he spoke through moans, voice strained due to the grip of her walls around him, pulsating. - Look at me, look at me when I’m fucking you. Let me see your pretty face.

Y/N whined, moving to look at him as he flushed her chest against his. She probably looked a mess yet had no time to worry about that once he started to push her hips up and down on him, eventually leading her into riding him. Her hand slide from his shoulder to his chest as she bounced on top of him, the sound of skin slapping against each other along with the moans and groans of both of them as they chased their high. She felt her own walls pulsating with each thrust, her lower belly coiling up as she continued to move up and down his cock as if she were going to die if she stopped. She gasped and whined, continuing with her movements as the coil continued to tighten up and her movements sped up.

- That’s it, princess. Such a good girl. - he moaned against her ear, silencing some of her moans with messy, wet kisses. - You wanna cum on my cock, hm? I know you want to.

- Buck ... - her gasp was high as her walls spasmed and her body tensed. The grip on his dick led him over the edge just a few seconds later and he pulled her completely flush against him, feeling him cum fill her up and leak onto both hers and his thighs. She hide her head on the crook of his neck, mewling while she regained her breathe.

Bucky chuckled through his breathlessness before slipping out of her which caused her to let out a small whine before he laid her down on the couch, arms wrapped around her.

- Make that a 3 month long honeymoon. - he cuddled her against his chest.

- How much of that will be sex? - she looked up, completely blissed out.

- You’ll get a week of sightseeing if you keep pulling this on me.

- Right. - she rolled her eyes. - I forget that you are old and cannot take this much excitement.

- Are you teasing me, Mrs. Barnes?

- Maybe. - there it was, the little playful smirk he loved so much.

- Oh, princess ... - he lifted her up as he got up from the couch, walking towards their bedroom. - You’re gonna regret that.

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217 notes · View notes

annie-mit-ie · 3 years

Text

Glimpses: Part 15 (Kathryn Hahn x Fem!Reader)

Part 1 // previous chapter <<< >>> next chapter

Summary: The Aftermath.

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: hello there! hope this makes up for all the drama I caused 😅 also, if the formatting is off: excuse me, this was written AND POSTED entirely on my phone. Have fun!!!

Tag List: @danvers97 @zafirosreverie @srtamercurio @wanatag @pulledbythestars17 @plantowl @spacehahn @sarahp-stan @agentbrownierso @our-blood-is-our-ink @fruityhahn

_____________________________________________________________________________

“NO! No no no no.” Kathryn paces up and down in her hotel room. “HOW DID THEY KNOW?”

Jennifer, who is sitting on the couch, computer in her hands, looks at Agnes, who is leaning against the wall. “I’m so sorry, Kathryn.”

“This is a disaster!” She looks devastated.

“Actually, it’s press and any press is good press. PLUS, Jeffrey is a good catch.” Jennifer scans another article.

Kathryn paces towards her, takes the computer out of her hands and sits down on the couch herself as Jennifer gets up to give her some space. Leaning back into the pillows, the actress looks like a mess. A grey tank top falls loosely of her shoulders and her unbrushed hair frames her face that is in painful distress. She puts the computer down on the tiny desk next to the couch and reads an article discussing if Jeffrey and her are Hollywood’s new favorite couple.

The article promises an update and as she clicks on the link provided, she looks at very private pictures taken of herself in her hotel room. Someone must have added the numbers up and figured out where she was staying to stalk and observe her through the window that she, stupidly, didn’t close right away last night. A short series of pictures shows her in front of the window, Jeffrey behind her. Him right in front of her as he leans in for a kiss. Another one of her getting undressed. Another one of him in just his underwear during a photo shoot for another project.

Stressed and in disbelief, she doesn’t even finish reading the captions and quickly sits up again to smack the device closed. Shaking her head, she stares at the floor.

“Kathryn? Are you okay?” Agnes asks cautiously.

——-

“Honey? Are you okay?” Alex asks as you continuously stare at your screen with empty eyes.

You continue staring. “Y/N! You worry me.”

Alex sits down again and places the phone next to her so you look like you are sitting righty with her on the couch. She has been trying to calm you down ever since she got up this morning. Right as she read the first article, she knew the situation was bad.

“Hey… it’ll all make sense in the end. She wouldn’t do that. You know that! You know the press!” Alex really tries and you appreciate it, yet, right now, it’s hard for you to show your gratitude.

“Hm…” you hum and nod with empty eyes.

Ever since you’ve read the article, you have been waiting for Kathryn to reach out. She must have seen it. Jennifer must have seen it. Maybe they all did and it’s the truth and that’s why no one is saying anything.

Alex looks at you again. “It’s probably rumors! You know how it works.” More than ever before, she wishes she could simply wrap you you up in a long and loving hug and make you feel better. Sometimes, it’s hard for her to believe that you’ve been friends for as long as you have and the actress you are bonding about had more physical contact with you than she did. What a story to tell.

“I know,” you say, but the pictures keep being projected inside your head, “but the pictures. These… the pictures! His hands, the hotel, her not talking to me. It all just adds up.”

Alex sighs. You do, too. You both sit in silence.

———-

Still staring at the floor, Kathryn tenses. “Oh my god.”

The other woman stare at her with raised eyebrows.

“Y/N!! I was thinking about the press and all and totally forgot.. she must have read it! OH GOD. She… she…”

“You should probably call her…” Agnes nods.

Jennifer shakes her head. “Not now. You’re way too emotional over all of this. We should organize the press first. Write a statement if you really want to. But really, it isn’t that big of a deal.”

Agnes turns around harshly and faces Jennifer with a stern look on her face. “Excuse me, can you please be her friend again for a minute?” she points at Kathryn, “does she look like it’s not that big of a deal?”

They both face Kathryn again, who has gotten up to get dressed. Without another word, she walks past her friends and employees and storms out of the door, on her way to discuss the matter with Jeffrey.

Meanwhile, Jennifer decides to take matters into her own hands, since Kathryn seems to be way too distressed to hold a serious conversation today. Rumors about her client being with someone aren’t exactly new, but pictures taken of private situations are unacceptable. Without consulting Kathryn again, she decides to publish the statement right away to help her friend.

——-

It’s been two days since the incident and Kathryn hasn’t contacted you yet. Heartbroken, you got updated on the story as her team released a statement declaring that Kathryn wants to keep her privacy and asks for the pictures to be removed off of the internet.

You wish she would’ve called you, or at least texted, but little did you know that she got into a fight with Jeffrey as his team called the pictures good press for him and decided to not do anything about it. Following that, Jennifer took Kathryn’s phone away so that the actress could fully concentrate on the project for the rest of the week of shooting. A rule written into the contract by Kathryn herself, as she is aware she gets carried away from time to time.

Right as she has her phone back, she runs for an empty space and tries to call you. It’s the early afternoon and you are in an online class as your phone starts ringing. Reading her name, your heart drops to the floor. All the stress adds up and gets combined with the anger you feel inside of you. You take the call.

Her face fills the screen and her eyes widen as she sees the state you are in. “Honey, I’m so sorry.”

There is a moment of silence. A moment of silence where a storm is raging inside you. “NO. No. You don’t get to be like that. You don’t get to break my heart and then come back apologizing, asking me to pretend nothing happened!” Kathryn’s mouths is slightly agape and her even widen even more. She listens. “I gave you my heart, Kathryn! My time. Do you really think I’m whoring around? Staying with older woman to play round just like that? Is that what you think I am? A toy?”

You are enraged and the words keep coming and you want to call her names and scream, hold onto her and look into her eyes. But you can’t. You can’t and that’s why your words are turning into a waterfall of emotions and you yell at her as she doesn’t have a chance to react in any way.

“I can’t believe myself,” you shake your head. “I offer myself to you and there you are. Going out and sleeping with a man. A MAN. Excuse me for not having a career. Excuse me for not having a six pack like your new friend does. What the fuck, Kathryn. What the actual fuck.”

Kathryn realizes you saw the pictures. Of course you did. She raises her hand to give you a signal that she wants to talk. Your mouth, ready to rant again, closes and you look at her.

She takes a breath. “It isn’t true.”

“It…. Isn’t?” You squint your eyes.

“It isn’t.”

————

2 days ago

————

“Come and spend the night with me.”

Kathryn swirls around. “WHAT?”

Before she can help herself, she finds herself pinned against a table that is close to the window. Jeffreys face is only inches away as he slowly starts to lean in.

“STOP.” She says and tries to lean back.

Obviously confused, Jeffrey looks at her. “I thought we had a great night. What’s the problem, sweetheart? Don’t you miss having with… other people?” He smiles.

Kathryn shakes her head. “I’m… I’m seeing someone, Jeffrey. I’m sorry if this came across wrong but tonight wasn’t a date.”

He distances himself from her, utter disbelief plastered across his face. “Oh no.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not a problem. I just… I can’t. You’re a great man, but, no.”

He is still putting space in between them, looking at her with worried eyes. “Kathryn, I would’ve never. I thought you were flirting. I thought you sent signs. God, I am sorry for coming this close to you.. I… I’m just gonna leave, alright? Okay! Good night, Kathryn.”

“JEFF!” She calls for him before he can close the door. “You’re a good looking man. I bet lots of woman would kill to be me right now, but please, ask. Don’t just assume. Yeah?”

He nods and with that he leaves her room. As the door falls into its lock, Kathryn undresses her blazer and shirt and remembers to close the curtains before stripping completely to hop into the shower.

—————-

“It isn’t…..” you repeat.

“No. And I would never do that to you.” She looks at you with sad eyes. “And I can’t believe you would think I do.”

You look at each other for a moment and the sad smile on her face breaks your heart once again.

“I would never….” She repeats, whispering quietly, but loud enough for you to notice. “I would never, because….”

She stops and looks up to lock eyes with you. You are both crying and your heartbeat skips a few beats and you think you might actually pass out any second.

“I would never because I am falling. For you. I would never because I think I am in love with you.”

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