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writingtoforgetreality · 3 years

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Gold Rush (Sebastian Stan x Reader)

[Actors-Masterlist]

Gold Rush [1] / You’re Not Sorry [2] / This Is Me Trying [3] / [4] (soon)

Summary: Your career was blossoming, especially with your new role in “The Falcon and the Winter Soldier”. Working on set was a dream come true. It was never your intention to fall for one of your coworkers. Not when you knew that he would never look at you that way.

Words: 2,637

Warnings: language, it’s Anthony Mackie’s world & we’re just living in it, angst, feeeeeels, maybe I cried, maybe I didn’t, we’ll never know, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Inspired by: “gold rush” by Taylor Swift

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Gleaming, twinkling

Eyes like sinking ships on waters

So inviting, I almost jump in

You scored big time when you were casted in the upcoming Marvel series “The Falcon and the Winter Soldier”. Working alongside Anthony Mackie & Sebastian Stan had been more than you had ever wished for. The atmosphere on set was harmonious. Everything would have been fine if it were not for your stupid crush on your fellow castmate. Mackie picked up on the fact that you liked Sebastian almost immediately & he teased you about it one too many times. No matter how obvious his teasing, it seemed like Sebastian was completely oblivious to it. Or he acted as if he had no clue. You were not quite sure about that.

The press tour was going strong, which meant that Seb, Mackie & you were teamed up for every interview. Now, that was not something that bothered you too much. After all, you were more than comfortable around them. But when some interviewers did not know where the line was, you got frustrated. Like, okay, we got it. Everyone with eyes knew Seb was hot. But as an interviewer, you should know when to stop. Shamelessly flirting in front of the camera with basically a stranger? Sorry, but you had no explanation for such a behavior. Yes, some interviewers flirted with you, too. But you were great when it came to brushing them off while staying polite. Of course, Mackie’s teasing did not make this any easier for you. Every now & then, he would bring up the chemistry you & Seb shared on screen. And off screen. Like usual, you laughed at him & so did Seb. During interviews, you teased each other a lot, it was a playful manner you all enjoyed. And the audience loved the three of you for it.

Sometimes, when Seb answered a question that had him explain scenes with you or something similar, you hated the butterflies you felt inside. You hated how your cheeks warmed up. You hated that he had such an effect on you. You hated Seb. You hated him for being so perfect. You hated him for being a literal God. You hated him for ruining every other man for you. Because nobody could ever compare to him. And you said that even though you were not even in a relationship. Hell, you were not the only person who looked at him that way. If the interviews were not proof enough, a look at social media did the job, too.

But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush

I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush

I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch

Everybody wants you

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

Walk past, quick brush

I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush

I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush

Everybody wants you

But I don't like a gold rush

“So (Y/N)…” the man sitting opposite of you started. It was not a lot of times that questions were directed at you. Usually, people were more excited to talk to the guys. No offense taken. “The chemistry between Sebastian & you can be felt even after such a short trailer. My question is…are you two, like, a thing?” of course. If you got a question, it was about your love life or about how great you looked in your suit. The others got complex & well thought through questions & you got this shit. Internally rolling your eyes, you stayed professional & answered casually.

“Sebby & I are friends. We work well together. We know each other well enough to communicate with our eyes, body language & so on. Some people mistake that for dating, apparently.” finishing off with a sarcastic chuckle, you had to hide the fact that you wished that there was more between you two.

“I gotta say. Even I think they’re dating sometimes.” Mackie smirked when he spoke up which earned him a light slap from you. Seb only hid his face behind his hand & laughed quietly. It was nothing new. You were used to his teasing by now. Looking over at Seb, you could not help but admire him. Even when he was embarrassed, to you, he was the most beautiful person on this planet. Not a single flaw. Just…perfect. If only you had enough courage to do something about your damn feelings.

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

With your hair falling into place like dominoes

I see me padding across your wooden floors

With my Eagles t-shirt hanging from the door

“Stop that.” Mackie walked over to where you were sitting. Finally, you had a break after hours of giving interview after interview. Looking up, your face turned into one of pure confusion.

“Stop what?” he exaggeratedly rolled his eyes at your question.

“The daydreaming.” it was a simple statement. But why would he tell you to stop that?

“What? Is it forbidden to daydream now?” chuckling at him, you offered him one of your coffee cups. Your handler brought you two because you had not slept much that night. But Mackie needed one just as much & he gladly accepted it. Still, he could tell that you were trying to change the topic. Not with him, though. Sitting beside you, he sighed loudly.

“Why don’t you just tell him?” he looked straight forward when he asked that question. Your face fell at his words but maybe, maybe, if you played dumb, you could get out of this conversation without any awkwardness.

“Tell who what?” your innocent eyes bore into his side profile & you saw him shaking his head slightly. A low chuckle escaped him.

“Tell Seb you like him or I will.” he stated & your eyes widened in fear.

“You wouldn’t dream of it.” exclaiming frantically, you grew more nervous at the thought.

“I wouldn’t trust that thought.” & after a few seconds of silence, you breathed out loudly.

“Yeah, sure. And I’d risk our friendship for that? Forget it.”

“He likes you, too, you know?” he casually stated. Your face changed, but only for a second. He was wrong. Someone like Seb could never like you back.

“Stop, Mackie. Don’t just run around assuming shit.” you pushed his shoulder playfully but it did not do too much. What a surprise.

“My running around assuming shit isn’t assuming. It’s facts. You guys are awful, by the way. It’s exhausting, watching you two trying to dodge your feelings. Why can’t you just, I don’t know, get everything sorted out & be happy together? If someone deserves that, it’s you.” yes, Mackie could be sarcastic but when push came to shove, he could be serious, too. And that last part, he meant by heart. Was it true? Did Seb like you? More than a friend? Maybe you should just tell him. Life was too short to be filled with what if’s. It was now or never, right?

At dinner parties, I call you out on your contrarian shit

And the coastal town we wandered 'round had never seen a love as pure as it

And then it fades into the gray of my day-old tea

'Cause it could never be

Wrapping up for today, the three of you decided to grab some take-out & eat it back inside your hotel. After quickly showering & dressing more comfortably, you made your way over to Seb’s room. Mackie was already there, he texted you at least ten times to hurry up because they were starving to death. Dramatic diva. Knocking softly, a smile spread across your face when Seb opened the door. Stepping aside to let you in, you greeted Mackie briefly. He was already eating so why the hell was he rushing you earlier? He could be such a child. Seb handed you your food & motioned for you to take a seat on the bed. Take-out in a hotel bed? It should be illegal. Usually, you were not one for eating in bed but whenever you where staying at a hotel, it became some sort of a routine for you. Same for the guys. For a while, the three of you just talked & ate your food. Conversation always flowed easily with them. You knew all of their secrets & they knew all of yours. Well, except for Seb having no clue about your silly crush on him. When he & Mackie discussed a topic you did not know too much about to actually engage in their conversation, you found yourself stealing glances at Seb. If it were not enough for him to be so gorgeous, of course he had the best personality to match that. God really took his time with him. And the weirdest thing of it all was that Seb never let that thought get the best of him. He was aware of people admiring him but that never changed him.

'Cause I don't like a gold rush, gold rush

I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush

I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch

Everybody wants you

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

Walk past, quick brush

I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush

I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush

Everybody wants you

But I don't like a gold rush

Mackie got a phone call & said goodbye to you before leaving the room. Which meant that Seb & you were alone. It was nothing special, the two of you spent a lot of time together. This time, though, you wanted to confess to him. Finally, you wanted to tell him how you felt. Could you live with the rejection? Well, if things turned in that direction, you had no choice but to. Seb’s lips moved but no sound came out. You zoned out & simply stared at him. Your thoughts were running wild. The sun had already started setting & the golden light illuminated his features in such a beautiful way. It almost looked like a movie scene. He was the masterpiece others could not keep their eyes from. You were this close to speaking up, taking a deep breath for preparation. This could change your bond with him forever.

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

With your hair falling into place like dominoes

My mind turns your life into folklore

I can't dare to dream about you anymore

A phone ringing interrupted you. It was not yours. But Seb pulled his phone out of his pocket. The moment he saw the notification, he started smiling so brightly. The smile you had grown to love so much. It brought a grin to your face, too. The things this man could do to you, completely unaware of the effect he had on you.

“What?” you asked when he could not stop staring at his phone. Had Mackie sent him a message?

“Nothing, it’s just…” he stopped before saying too much but you were having none of it.

“Aw, come on, Sebby. You can tell me anything.” encouraging him, your hand found its way on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. Seb seemed almost shy right now. And this was weird because he usually was everything but shy when he talked to you.

“There’s this girl & she’s just…amazing.” your face fell the moment he started talking. No. “I asked her for dinner but when she hadn’t replied after hours, I started losing hope. She just messaged me back.” his smile was sheepish & you hated that you had to admit that he looked happy right now. Genuinely happy. But you were not the reason of his happiness. Another girl was.

“And? What did she say?” deep down, you knew the answer & you actually did not want him to say it out loud. But you were best friends, after all, it was kind of your duty.

“I got myself a date. I’m going on a date with her, (Y/N)!” he beamed & pulled you into a big hug. One, that made the butterflies act out. Fuck, that hurt.

“That’s great, Sebby. I’m happy for you! You deserve it.” your excitement for him was fake but the sincerity behind your last words were not. If one person on this planet deserved endless love & happiness, it was him. Mackie was wrong. Seb had never liked you. Not in that way, at least. And his date saved you from embarrassing yourself & ruining your friendship. That did not change the fact that you felt like crying right now. You could not shed tears in front of him, could not show how much it actually affected you. No. You had to fake a smile. And that shit hurt like a bitch.

At dinner parties I won't call you out on your contrarian shit

And the coastal town we never found will never see a love as pure as it

'Cause it fades into the gray of my day-old tea

'Cause it will never be

“Something’s wrong with you.” Mackie stated at breakfast. No shit, Sherlock.

“What makes you think that?” feigning innocence, you rolled your eyes when you saw the look he was giving you.

“Clearly, you’re upset. Did something happen after I left you with Seb yesterday?” he hit the nail on the head with his assumption.

“Yeah.” was all you answered. His eyebrows raised, he waited for you to continue. But when he noticed that you were not planning on engaging in any more conversation with him, he pressed further.

“Did you tell him? Did he mess up?” if Seb messed up, he would kill him. There was no other person who was better for him than you. The two of you deserved each other. And everyone seemed to realize that but you.

“I wanted to tell him.” admitting quietly.

“But?”

“He got a notification.” your short answers made Mackie freak out. He grew frustrated with you when you dragged out this entire conversation.

“(Y/N), come on.” he urged.

“Sebby has a date.”

“With you? But that’s great.” his smile was small but present. Did you finally realize that you were feeling so much more for each other?

“With another girl.” then you looked up at his face, your eyes glossy. Clearly, you were trying to keep it together but he could tell that you had a hard time doing so. Yes, Mackie would kill Seb. He could have sworn that Seb only had eyes for you. The stolen glances, the efforts to make time to spend more with you. What the fuck was going on? When he saw your first tear falling, he wasted no time in pulling you in for a hug. You were broken, all because of one man. But the thing was that he was not just any man. He was Seb. Your best friend. Your everything. But he would never be yours. Not in a million years. Because he only saw you as a friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was not like you did not have options. Hell, you declined so many people over the time. All because of him. And you were afraid that this would not change anytime soon. Because you did not think you would ever get over him. Your heart was ripped into a million pieces & the only person who could help you fix it was getting excited over his upcoming date. Whatever you thought could be between you guys, it was nothing but a dream. Something that could never be.

Gleaming, twinkling

Eyes like sinking ships on waters

So inviting, I almost jump in

Gold Rush [1] / You’re Not Sorry [2] / This Is Me Trying [3] / [4] (soon)

Published (04/22/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @buckysleftarm420 (thanks for your support <3)

304 notes · View notes

love-and-monsters · 4 years

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Harpy Rescue

M monster X F reader, 7,143 words

You wash up on an island after a shipwreck. The harpy natives take you in and you find companionship with a certain healer who’s been caring for you.

I stared blankly at the sky above me. I was lying back on a beach. The tide was coming in underneath me. The salt water stung at the raw scrapes on my back.

It was struggle to breathe. My lungs spasmed and heaved with every breath. All my energy went into keeping my lungs heaving.

It was ironic. The only person who survived the shipwreck was the one who would die anyway.

None of my limbs would move. I knew I wasn’t paralyzed, if only because that would have dulled sensation and I could feel every scrape and bruise over the surface of my body. I just couldn’t move under my own power.

It took all my energy to keep breathing. It hurt just to breathe. My lungs stuttered over the air, threatening to stop altogether every time. Even with all my effort going into it, I still felt faintly dizzy from lack of air.

There were birds, enormous birds, circling overhead. Carrion birds, probably. They could see me lying on the beach and probably assumed they were getting a nice lunch.

The water was getting higher. It was a race, I thought morbidly. Would the water drown me before the birds managed to eat my entrails?

They were coming down more rapidly now. They were huge. Perhaps I would get lucky and they would fight one another for long enough that the waves would come in. I would take drowning over being torn apart hungry birds.

The tide was coming in faster. I could feel it lapping around my ears. A particularly strong wave made me sputter and I spent nearly a minute coughing and gasping. It was harder than ever to breathe. Perhaps drowning wouldn’t be substantially more pleasant than being eaten alive.

One of the birds plunged into a dive, spurring the others to follow. They drifted out of my sight and no matter how far I rolled my eyes back, I couldn’t see them. Great. I just had to wait in anticipation.

There was a crunching behind me, the sound of something approaching. Another wave struck me and I choked, coughing on the water. Black spots popped in front of my eyes and I felt my entire body heave, water trickling from my mouth.

A hand caught my shoulder. With a heave, I was dragged out of the shallow water and up onto the firmer beach. Tilting my head back, I managed to catch sight of my rescuers.

They hadn’t been birds, I realized. They had just looked like birds from a distance. My rescuers were a group of concerned-looking harpies.

If I had any sense of dramatic timing, I likely would have passed out then. It would have made the situation much less awkward, at least. But I remained stubbornly awake, staring up at the small throng of harpies.

Their heads and torsos were humanoid, but they seemed to have a combination between arms and wings. Their arms were feathered and there was a split at the wrists between hands and the final joint of the wing. Their legs were scaled and ended in large, heavy talons. All of them had deeply tanned skin and dark brown hair and feathers.

They spoke to one another for a moment, in a language I couldn’t understand. Then, the one that had dragged me up the beach bent over and hauled me into his arms.

The group headed off the beach and into the tropical jungle beyond. It was getting harder and harder to remain conscious. I faded in and out, struggling to keep my consciousness together. The blackouts grew longer and longer and the tightening pain in my chest was growing sharper. Breathing was almost painfully difficult.

Another bit of irony for me. I had been saved from drowning only for my condition to kill me right away.

The last thing I was aware of was the man carrying me speaking rapidly before I was deposited on solid ground with a jolt.

When I opened my eyes again, there was a ceiling above me. It was thatched, and there were several bundles of herbs hanging from the rafters. The pain of my body had eased, and though my chest burned, it had loosened significantly. After a few breaths, I had gained enough energy to sit up.

“Here.” Someone to my right pushed a bowl into my hands. It was full of a strong-smelling liquid that made my nose run and my sinuses clear almost instantly. “It’ll help with your breathing.”

The person next to me was the same man who had carried me off the beach. I hadn’t gotten the best look at him, but he had the same golden-brown feathers and his long, braided hair was done up in the same style. I dipped my head and took a few swallows from the bowl.

It burned worse than any whiskey I’d ever tried. I sputtered, eyes watering, but the tension in my chest did fade. The bands that had always restricted my breathing loosened ever so slightly and I gulped air gratefully.

The man outstretched his hands and took the bowl back. I sputtered a few more times before my breathing calmed. “What is that?”

“An old remedy for chest trouble. It’s steeped out of different herbs.” As he set the bowl on a nearby table, I realized something.

“You speak English?” I asked.

“Some. My aunt met with travelers many years ago. She taught me. Just in case.” He leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs out in front of him. Something behind him shifted and I noticed his tail, made of the same brown feathers as his wings. “You must have inhaled a lot of salt water. Your breathing was bad.” He tapped his chest demonstratively. “You were wheezing.”

“It does that anyway. But the almost drowning didn’t help.” I pushed yourself up in bed. “Where am I?”

“Healer’s house,” he said. “In Namori Village. You were brought here by the storm, yes?”

“Not on purpose,” I said. “I was sailing to Larmark. They have a good hospital there. I was going for an examination.” I rubbed at my chest. “I don’t suppose you have any ships heading in that direction?”

“We are not a sailing people,” the man said with an apologetic smile. I slouched back into the bed. I wasn’t as upset about it as I should have been. The treatment was supposed to find a way to cure my condition. Without it, I could be beset by a sudden bought of chest tightness that could kill me at any moment. It had nearly done so several times in my childhood. But I had lived my life with it so far. I was just back where I’d started.

“She’s up!” I looked up to see an older woman harpy leaning over me. “Thought I told you to call for me, boy.” The male harpy ducked his head, looking properly ashamed. “Took quite a beating from that storm. Lucky you made it to shore.” She flicked her wings. “We saw the ship go down last night. Didn’t expect anyone would survive. You’re lucky we noticed you.”

“There’s something wrong with her chest,” the male harpy said. “She wheezes.”

“Noticed that.” The woman looked me over. Her eyes were a piercing yellow. “Thought it was from the seawater. It’s usually like that?”

“Yes. Since I was a child. I had some sort of illness that damaged it. I wouldn’t worry about it too much. I’ve never allowed it to bother me.” I’m sure my voice would have been much more reassuring, but my chest contracted in a cough and I heaved a few times.

“Perhaps you should let it bother you more. Give her more of that infusion, Nor. And recheck her ribs, just to be safe.”

“Yes, Aunt Aerath,” Nor said. She turned on her heels and strode off. We were in a back room, I noticed, small and full of warm light. Nor turned back to me. “Sit up. Drink.” I sipped more of the brew he’d given me while he prodded at my ribs. It was a little ticklish and I had to work not to squirm.

“Your ribs are fine,” Nor said eventually. “But your chest is weak.”

“Well, nothing I didn’t already know.” I rolled over, ignoring the sharp pains that came to me. “Can I move around?”

Nor nodded and I got up. He hovered close by as I shuffled around. I’d been stripped down to my shift, which would have been embarrassing if both of them hadn’t been wearing something similar. They both seemed to be wearing something like togas, though Nor’s skirt was long enough to trail on the ground. Both their outfits were a deep navy blue.

There was a partially ajar door and I stepped through it, onto the forest floor outside. The trees were enormous, towering over everything. Up in the branches, harpies darted back and forth, flitting between the branches. I could see nest-like houses nestled in the crooks of the trees.

“We’re on the ground,” I said. Nor nodded.

“Healers live on the ground. In case flightless ones come to us,” he explained.

“Ah. That’s sensible.” I stared up, looking into the trees with some interest. At least if I was going to be staying there for a while, it was a beautiful, fascinating place.

Nor took me back inside and fed me a chunk of meat along with a few fruits. I needed to heat the meat over the fire for a little longer- apparently harpies liked their meat fairly rare. Aerath returned after that and forced a few more herbal brews down my throat, which she said would help with the pain.

“I expect I’ll be here for a while,” I said as I handed one of her cups back to her. My mouth tasted like I’d licked the underside of a stone. The brews were unpleasant at best, though I could already feel a numbness creeping into my injuries.

“Humans come by only rarely,” Aerath said. “And there isn’t much of a pattern. Our species is not water faring and we can’t fly to the next mainland. Ocean flight is not easy.”

“Which is a taciturn way of saying I am stuck here.”

“No more than us,” Nor said.

“Be kind. She has lost her home,” Aerath said sternly. I shrugged, leaning back in bed.

“It’s not as awful as you may think. I was sailing to a hospital, you see. It was likely I would spend the rest of my life there, which, even with all that care, may not have been very long.” I shrugged. “At least this place is better for the soul.”

Nor turned his head and spoke to his aunt rapidly in his own language. She frowned, but responded in the same way. I ignored the pair of them and moved back to bed. Despite not having been awake for very long, I was already exhausted. My chest stuttered as I tried to lie flat on my back and I paused for a moment, wheezing.

Nor darted over and adjusted my pillow behind me. “Better?”

“Yes, thank you.” Nor nodded, then slipped out of the room. Aerath lingered for a moment, looking at me.

“We’ll be upstairs if you require us. If you can’t walk, knock heavy things over until we come for you.” With that, she exited the room. The door closed behind her and I slumped back into the pillow, eyes closing.

I slept fitfully, especially after the pain medication wore off. By the time Nor brought breakfast, I was already up and walking around. There were several journals with detailed drawings of plants in them. I couldn’t read the writing, but I could see what the plants were and I spent some time matching them to the herbs hanging around the room.

“Quite an interesting journal,” I told Nor as he sat down to eat with me. “Did your aunt write it?”

He shook his head. “She is…” He struggled with the word for a moment. “Practical? A… practice? She remembers by senses, not words. But I need reminders.”

“You’re quite good at drawing,” I said. “I kept similar journals, though they sank with the ship.” He looked at me with clear surprise. “I had little else to do. I could rarely go out, so I spent much time in the gardens, drawing and remarking upon the plants. These remind me of my own journals.”

“When I am collecting herbs, I enjoy drawing them. Seeing nature. It is soothing.” He seemed to grow more excited, then composed himself. “I could show you garden, if you’d like?”

“I would,” I said. He grinned, then hopped to his taloned feet as his aunt entered the room.

I did not end up seeing the garden that day, principally because I spent much of it in bed. Nor stopped by every now and then, sometimes with food, more often with a new bundle of plants to tie up and hang from the ceiling. He seemed to go into a sort of trance when he was sorting the herbs, a sort of peaceful state.

It took a few days before I was approved to walk into town. “Don’t stress yourself too much. You’re still recovering,” Aerath said.

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Nor said. He fluttered his wings at his aunt, shooing her away. “We’ll be fine.”

Being without wings earned me a great deal of stares. I was viewed with some general suspicion, as far as I could tell. I was allowed to stay because there seemed to be a consensus that throwing me into the wilderness would absolutely kill me, and they had decided not to be that cruel. Not wanting me to die, however, did not necessarily mean that I was accepted by the community. Having Nor with me seemed to help, at least somewhat. He was at least well respected, and being in his presence absorbed you into his aura of decency.

The village seemed to have been built into the enormous trees of the forest. Several houses had been formed out of several trees carefully grown together through cultivation, and the living pavilion, formed out of ten trees carefully coaxed into growing around each other, was the great centerpiece of the town.

Getting to see the town as a group also drew your eye to the cultural similarities between them. A majority of adults had short hair, while children seemed to exclusively have long hair. There didn’t seem to be a clear age delineation between them. Based on appearances, Nor was older than a few of those with short hair, though no one under a certain age had their hair cut.

“Is there a reason for the hair styling?” I asked. “You wear your hair long, but most adults seem to keep theirs short.”

“Oh,” Nor said, with a tiny, dismissive flick of his feathers. “They are… erm. I am not certain of the word. Paired?”

“Married,” I guessed, and Nor’s expression brightened.

“Yes. Married. Part of the ceremony includes cutting hair. Most couples keep their hair short, to show they are with someone. Long hair can be difficult to fly with. To keep your hair short means you have someone who makes it easy to fly.” He frowned for a moment. “It is a pun in my language. It does not work as well in yours.”

“I think I get it,” I said. “But your aunt is unmarried and her hair is short.”

“She is…” There was a long pause. Nor seemed to be struggling to think of the proper words. “Bound to work? Committed to healing? Something along those lines, I believe. She is joined to her job as one is bound to a lover.”

I frowned. “Healers are like nuns, then?”

Nor frowned too. “Like… nones? Healers are not nothing.”

“No, like nuns. It’s spelled differently.” Nor looked entirely blank. I suspected he couldn’t write English. “Nuns are people who take vows not to marry so they can become closer to God, as I understand it. Healers do something similar.”

Nor still seemed confused. “Not all healers. Only Aunt Aerath.” He reached up and touched the long braid that was coiled on the back of his head. “I have… not decided.”

“Well, you’ve got time.” We were quite close to the healing house again, but I paused and leaned against a tree. My chest was squeezing again and I needed a break. “I never planned on marrying, really.”

“Why not?” Nor asked.

“I didn’t expect to live terribly long,” I said frankly. “I have spent much of my life expecting to die from a sudden attack. And then my parents suggested that I go to a hospital for treatment, and it’s rare to marry once you end up in those sort of places.” I smoothed my new robes idly. “I never expected to have a husband who would be okay with his wife dropping dead at any moment.”

Nor fluttered his wings. “You are not going to die,” he said.

“It’s all right. I’m content with it. I have been this way all my life. I value every moment now. It’s nothing new to me.” Nor still looked discomfited, so I patted his shoulder reassuringly. “Truly, I’m fine. We should head back now.”

Nor plied me with the strange, spicy concoction for my chest when we returned home. I drank the lot of it, at his insistence. It did seem to help. There was something about the warmth of it that relaxed my lungs and brought air in easier.

As my recovery finalized, I began to look for ways to serve my new community. It was not something terribly easy. I could not fly, or truly do any sort of intense physical activity, which limited my options. Sewing and weaving, actions that had often been suggested to me, held no more interest for me in the village than they had in my own home. Trying to manipulate tiny threads that tangled at the slightest glance was infuriating, and my frustration often ended in chest-heaving coughing fits. I tried to go back to writing my journals, examining nature and writing about it, but there seemed to be little actual use for it.

Eventually, I began tagging along with Nor when he went to collect herbs in the forest. He’d been going out more and more often, looking for new plants and writing furiously in his notebooks. I could read them more easily now, having spent a few weeks immersed in a crash course of his language.

“Just make sure you watch out for snakes,” Nor said as we trekked through the thick foliage.

“Look out for what?” I said. I was at the awkward stage of learning a language where I knew most common words, but words that were used infrequently were still lost.

“Snakes? Er. <Snakes!>” Nor said in English.

“Snakes,” I repeated. “Are there a lot of them?” I looked cautiously at the ground.

“No. Not a lot. But there are some venomous ones that bite if you step on them.” Unsettled, I lifted up the hem of my robe, peering cautiously at the leaf litter. The clothes harpies wore were not well-designed for people without tails or wings. I had needed to do some rudimentary tailoring to fix it into something I could walk around in. Shoes had been another problem entirely, mostly because harpies had tough, scaled feet and wore no shoes. I had eventually just decided to layer several thick fabrics together and essentially tied them to my feet. They were neither comfortable nor easy to wear, but they were practical and had stopped your soles from being shredded.

We made our way slowly through the woods. I ended up holding onto Nor’s arm wing for much of it. Never having worked out for long periods of time had left me fairly uncoordinated and leaning on Nor made it much easier for me to move about.

“Look. Norell,” he said, picking up a bunch of sharp-smelling, pink flowered herbs from the ground. “My namesake.”

“What are they used for?” I asked.

“Chest conditions, actually. They’re a big part of the infusion I’ve been giving you.” Nor had been giving me a regular doses of that infusion. Taking some in the morning seemed to loosen my chest for the rest of the day. “I’ve been trying to make a stronger infusion, so we’ll need a lot of it.”

“Are you predicting a spike in chest conditions?” I asked. Winter was on its way, and apparently, due to their large, powerful lungs, harpies were quite susceptible to issues like pneumonia and bronchitis. But that seemed to be counterbalanced by the fact that winter was mild on the island, more of a tepidly cool wet season than a proper snowy winter.

Nor shifted on the ground. His wings twitched a little. It was hard to tell, thanks to his deeply brown skin, but I thought I could see a hint of red creeping into his cheeks. “It’s for you, actually.”

I lifted my brows. “For me?”

“It’s been helping you recently,” Nor said, a little defensively. “I thought that a stronger infusion would help even more.” He frowned critically at the plants. “I want to get it as concentrated as possible. But there’s not enough in the gardens right now, so I need more.” He straightened up, tucking a bundle of plants away into his bag. “Also, infusions will keep a little better than the herbs themselves, so I can keep them for longer. You’ll need some when the growing season ends.”

“You’ll need some for others as well,” I said. “Keep some in reserve.”

“If you need it, you need it,” Nor said. “I’d rather give herbs to someone who definitely needs them than reserve some in case someone else might need them.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to fully heal someone who can be fully healed than to keep giving supplements to someone who will always be sick?” I said. Nor’s feathers bristled, shifting in agitation.

“All people deserve healing. Whether or not their condition is curable. I want you to be well.” His tone was so severe that I could do nothing but stare at him. After a moment, he seemed to realize what he’d said and he broke eye contact, staring at the ground. “We should, ah. Head back.”

He started trekking through the woods rapidly. Harpies were notably better at balance on uneven terrain, thanks to their long, gripping talons. I struggled to keep up with him.

We were getting quite close to the village when I felt the unfortunately familiar seizing sensation in my chest. I stopped dead, enormously regretting my walking speed that had left me a little breathless. It was growing harder by the moment to inhale.

Nor paused, realized I was no longer with him, and hurried back to my side. “Are you okay?” he asked. One of his hands moved along my back, kneading my tightening muscles. “Breathe. Breathe!” If I had the air for it, I would have informed him I was trying, and was well aware that I needed to be breathing. Unfortunately, all my energy was going into not allowing my body to suffocate me.

Nor abruptly decided that simply telling me to breathe was ineffective and changed tact. “Hold on!” This turned out to be quite literal because he seized me around the waist and hefted me against his chest.

It was impossible for a harpy to fly while carrying something, because their arms and wings were one and the same, but I could have been fooled considering how fast Nor was moving. He plunged through the forest as fast as the wind. I would have been more impressed if I wasn’t struggling to breathe at the moment. As it was, I was aware that we were moving at quite a speed.

Nor was back in the healing house within minutes. I was unceremoniously dumped on the bed and Nor darted off, rummaging through a cabinet with a noise of wood rattling and glass clinking.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said. He knelt next to me, turning my head toward him. “You just need to drink this. Okay?”

I tried to inhale enough to speak and it stuck in my chest, sparking a coughing fit. Nor looked panicked and thrust the little bottle he was holding into my mouth. I sputtered, but some of the liquid spilled down my throat. There was a mild tingling and my chest loosened.

With my breathing abruptly eased, I could keep taking small sips from the bottle. The tightness loosened with every swallow. Nor slumped next to the bed, wings sagging with relief. I put down the bottle, still coughing, but breathing easier.

“Are you okay?” Nor asked. I nodded.

“You can move quick,” I said. My voice was raspy and a little strangled. I swallowed, trying to fully clear my throat.

“I was worried,” he said. “You should try carrying a bottle of this with you from now on.” He walked over to the cabinet and fetched a small bottle full of the infusion. “If you’re going to be going out more often, you’ll want something to prevent more attacks.”

I took the bottle. “That’s a good idea.” I set it down onto the table next to the bed. “Are you inviting me on more herb gathering missions, then?”

A slightly shy smile crept up Nor’s face. “If you’d like to come. You’ve been pretty good at spotting plants. And you’ve been pretty good in the gardens lately.”

“I was never really able to do a lot of gardening before,” I said. “So, I tended to overfocus on the little minute details, like soil quality and the amount of water you give the plants.”

“You’ve improved the garden a lot,” Nor said. “Oh, which reminds me. Hold on.”

He stood up and trotted over to the cabinet again. After looking through it for a few moments, he pulled out a small notebook and walked back over. “Here,” he said, presenting it to me. It looked like the notebooks he used for his own notes, a smooth black cover and soft, slightly off-white pages. “I haven’t taken many notes on the gardening aspects of herbs. I just… haven’t been very good at it. But I thought you could start taking notes on how you care for the plants. It might be useful.”

I took the notebook from his hands. Our fingers brushed as I did so. His skin was warm and calloused, the sort of skin that only came around after long, hard work. The notebook was heavy in my hands, strangely dense for such a small item. “Thank you,” I said. “I would love to do that.”

Nor stood, shifting on his talons. “Good. Um. You should probably get some rest. I’ll be back in a bit.” He hurried out of the room. I watched him go until his tail had completely vanished around the doorway.

Working in the garden only brought me closer to Nor. We spent time together every day, either going out to gather herbs or helping him with the garden. He was enthusiastic to learn and good company even when we weren’t talking about plants.

His ease with me spread to the rest of the village. By the time winter was over, I had been completely accepted as a part of the community. To them, I was not as much an outsider human as a strange, wingless harpy. Even Aerath trusted me enough to allow me to learn how to make herbal remedies, while Nor took on more of her duties, like diagnosing illnesses and dressing wounds.

During early spring, when the rains began to ease, a change set in around the village. There was a new current of excitement, the younger adults spending more time showing off and engaging in stunts. Even Nor, who had been fairly even tempered in the time I’d known him, seemed to get caught up in the excitement.

It was during my usual work in the garden that I noticed the changes were not confined to emotional. There was a physical change too. Nor’s tail feathers, usually a deep golden-brown, had taken on a rusty color. The color only brightened over the next week, going from a dull, sort of reddish orange to a bright crimson. The colors showed up on the male population of the rest of the village as well, to varying degrees. Some, especially the younger males, never got past a reddish orange, while others got to the same brilliant crimson hue as Nor’s.

While it garnered some sort of notice and people seemed pleased about it, no one was talking about what it actually meant. It clearly meant something, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on why it was so important.

Eventually, after some time of trying to figure out what it meant on my own, I broke down and decided to ask Nor. “Your tail changed color,” I said as we headed back into the house from the garden.

“You noticed,” Nor said. His tone was utterly unreadable.

“Well, it’s a bit hard to miss. It’s a very bright color.” Nor’s unreadable expression shifted into one of clear embarrassment. “Is it something I shouldn’t mention? It seems to signal something, but I wasn’t sure what it was-”

“No, no. I mean, I guess I should have expected you to ask about it. You’re not a harpy, so you never would have been told.” He set the herbs he’d collected down on the table and turned to me, giving me his full attention. “It’s almost spring, which means that we’re approaching our mating season.”

I felt sort of stupid for not hitting upon that idea earlier. Of course. The red was to attract a mate. Was commenting on it some kind of social faux pas? As I tried to come up with that to say next, Nor continued. “We’ll have a mating ceremony soon, with the other local villages. It’s a big event, so everyone’s getting rather excited about it.”

“A… mating ceremony?” I repeated. How carnal were we talking? Was I going to have to make myself scarce for… how long did the mating ceremony last, anyway?

“It’s not as bad as you’re thinking,” Nor added hurriedly. “It’s more of a competition? Or a show, really. It lasts about a week, and the first six days are more of a festival than anything. Lots of feasting, games, shows. It’s more about getting to know the other villages and the people from them. It’s quite fun. The festival ends with the mating ceremony. It used to be a more literal interpretation of that, a long time ago. But now it’s really more of a show. Men fly around and show off, but it’s less to attract a mate and more to show off to someone you already have an attraction to. Or to get someone to ask you out, sometimes. It’s more for the fun of it and the tradition.”

“It sounds interesting,” I said.

“It should start in a couple of weeks. That’s the peak of the season,” Nor said. “I can show you around a bit, if you’d like.”

“Sure. If you’re not going to be too busy trying to find a soulmate,” I said, nudging him playfully in the side. He shrugged, glancing away.

“I’ve never actually participated all that much in it,” he said. “I’ve been kind of focused on my studies with my aunt. I spent most of my time at the last few festivals working with the other healers.”

“You should get out more, then. I can help your aunt out, if you want. Then you can go off and see the sights.”

“I already told you I’d show you around,” Nor protested. “And it’ll be your first festival.”

“Look, at least get a little time to yourself,” I said. “I can help out, you know.”

“We’ll see,” Nor said, which was as close to agreeing as I thought he was going to get.

The weeks passed slowly, with excitement ramping up as the festival got closer. I could almost feel the tension buzzing in the air, getting ready to overflow. By the time it had arrived, I was almost swept up in the rising excitement.

The fairground for the festival was a large clearing in the center of the island. It had an impressive view of the sky, and the ground was almost entirely covered in tents and attractions. Nor and I were toward the edge of the grounds, in a sort of makeshift medical tent. “We probably won’t be called on for a little bit,” he said once we’d finished setting everything up. “I can show you around.”

“Sure,” I agreed. Nor trotted off, and I followed after, looking around the festival with interest.

Most of it seemed like the sort of festivals I’d seen once or twice when I’d been young. Ever since my chest troubles had set in fully, I’d rarely gone far from my house. It looked mostly like a very fancy market. People showed off their most interesting wares, their most brightly colored or intricately designed trinkets. There were several people slightly younger than Nor picking up things that I assumed were for potential sweethearts. There were also several games, most of them for children, but a few clearly styled for adults. The food was the usual hearty fare that I’d seen at other festivals, enormously delicious and decadent.

“And this all lasts a whole week?” I asked as we made our way back to the healer’s tent. We had gotten sidetracked a few times- there were several musical performances and talent shows, and even a few classes that I’d been interested in taking.

“Well, the first and last days are the biggest ones. But yes, the whole week. For the most part.”

“Then you can take a day or two off and enjoy all this, can’t you?” I said. Nor hesitated for a moment. “I can handle things at the tent. Why don’t you take tomorrow off? It’ll be good for you to get a break.”

Nor hesitated. “I’ll have to ask my aunt.”

“I’ll make sure she says yes,” I said. “You deserve it. Especially after having to take care of me for so long.”

Nor shrugged and mumbled something about it not being a big deal. I laughed clapping him on the shoulder.

“Just take some time off. Okay?”

He agreed, finally, and we returned to the tent. There were a few injuries, of course, mostly young people trying to show off for their potential lovers, but nothing we were overwhelmed with. It took only a bit of persuading for Aerath to give Nor the next day off.

Nor went out only after making sure I kept my infusion on me. “Just be careful,” he said.

“I’m always careful,” I told him. “Now, go. And stop worrying so much.” He made a face, but left for the rest of the fairgrounds, leaving me with Aerath and the other healers.

I only spotted him a few times during the day. He seemed to have attracted a small group of friends by noon. It seemed he could get along well with others, as long as he managed to get out. Well, I reflected, he was a sweetheart. It wasn’t hard to believe that he was able to get along with others.

I’d been breathing relatively easy for so long that I hadn’t really been expecting another attack. So, when the bout of tightness came on with no warning, I was so shocked I couldn’t think of what to do for several panicked moments.

My wheezing attracted Aerath’s attention. She grabbed my shoulder and shoved me down onto a cot. I fumbled for the infusion, and Aerath helped me unstopper it and press it to my lips.

The infusion helped, but my chest still felt tight. I could draw in air, but it wasn’t enough. Black spots started to pop in front of my vision. My chest screamed with pain. I was dying. That thought sat clear and calm in my brain, rising above all the panic like foam over a tide. I’d known it was going to happen. I’d hoped it would take longer. But at least… at least the last few months of my life had been nice. My mind drifted to Nor. Hopefully he wouldn’t blame himself. He didn’t deserve that. He’d been wonderful.

Nor’s face was suddenly over mine. I blinked up at him. Ha. A nice hallucination before everything ended.

“Breathe!” Distantly, I could feel a hand on my chest, another at my mouth. Something sharp and bitter flowed past my lips and I choked, sputtering. My chest loosened abruptly and I sucked in a great breath, coughing and choking.

Nor, who I was gradually realizing was actually there and not just a hallucination, rolled me onto my side. Some of the solution drained from my mouth as I coughed it up. Nor rubbed my back vigorously, prompting another round of coughing.

Gradually, the tightness eased to just a faint raspiness and a raw pain. I sat up as Nor sank into a seat, weak with relief. “I thought you were going to die,” he said faintly.

“I did too.” My voice was gravely and everything felt raw. “The infusion wasn’t working. What did you use?”

“It was experimental,” Nor said a little sheepishly. “I’ve been trying to make it stronger, something that works better.”

“Thank goodness it did,” I said. I got slowly off the cot where I’d collapsed. Nor stood as well, staying close by like he was preparing to catch me.

“Maybe we should fine somewhere to rest,” Nor said. “The attack probably took it out of you.”

Despite your protests, Nor followed you back home and insisted on staying with you. “Just in case,” he kept repeating.

Nor kept near my side for the next few days, even when I tried to gently push him to spend time elsewhere and enjoy the event. The only times he seemed willing to leave was when I was going with him, at which point he took great enthusiasm in showing me around the various games and events that were being held. Being near him allowed even me to make some new friends- those who would have been unsettled by the sight of some strange, wingless creature seemed reassured enough by Nor’s friendly presence to approach.

Despite his insistence on sticking with me, I did convince him to take another day off for the last day of the festival. It was the day of the mating ceremony, and, given that Nor was of proper age, possibly even a little old, to participate in it, I wanted to give him time to do so.

The showing started at noon sharp, when the sun was at its zenith. Most of the people flying were male, though a few women had painted their tails red and were flying as well. A few would take off at a time and move in carefully coordinated dances. Some were conservative and simple, others were aggressive and risk-taking. Eventually, they would land back in the throng of people staring at the sky. Some of them landed and slipped off with a single partner. Others landed and seemed to attract a group, each of the admirers vying for attention.

After about an hour, I meandered off to the bank of a nearby river. Watching harpies fly was interesting, but it did get old after a while and I was getting a crick in my neck from looking up.

I had only been soaking my feet in the river for a few minutes when Nor walked up to me and sat down next to me. “Wondered where you’d gone,” he said. “Doing all right?”

“Fine. You don’t need to be so worried.”

Nor dipped his talons into the water. “Mm. I guess. But I do anyway.”

“I wish you wouldn’t,” I said. “You spent half of the festival trailing after me like I would collapse the instant you took your eyes off me. And now you’re missing out on the flight ceremony.”

It was hard to tell with his deeply tanned skin, but I thought Nor went a little pink. “I wasn’t really planning to fly anyway,” he said.

“No one caught your eye?” I asked. There was a long pause. “Nor?”

“Not as such,” he said. “I mean… Sort of.”

“And you’ve been spending all your time trying to look after me instead of enjoying the festival with her,” I said. “You know, I don’t need you to hover around me. You don’t need to feel guilty if anything happens to me. I’ve known I’m probably not going to live that long.”

Nor’s expression twisted a little bit. “I’ve been trying to fix that. I think I’ve got a concoction right. If you take it daily, it should help you-”

“Okay, okay,” I said. “Hey. You don’t need to spend all your time on me, you know? You can have a life. You’re not responsible for me.”

“It’s not about that,” Nor said. “I wasn’t worried about you. Well, not just that. I…” He stopped for a moment. “I wanted to spend time with you.”

Oh. That created a runny sensation in my chest, like my heart flipped over. “You wanted to-”

“Don’t be that surprised. I haven’t really been subtle about it,” Nor said. “Yes. I like being around you. Why did you think I kept inviting you to do stuff with me and stayed with you instead of going to the festival?”

“I thought you just wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to suffocate in your absence,” I said.

“A little bit. But mostly because I like you,” he said. He peered into my face, a tentative smile on his lips. “You don’t seem upset?”

“I’m not,” I said. “I’m pleased, actually.”

“Really?” Nor’s face was quite close to mine. His lips were parted. I could feel the soft warmth of his breath.

“Really.” Our lips were quite close to touching. Just before making contact, Nor seemed to stall, hesitation overcoming desire. I smiled and leaned in, pressing our lips together in a gentle moment of contact.

Neither of us had much experience kissing, so it was a bit clumsy and we clacked teeth more than once. Still, when we broke apart, I felt breathless in the most positive way I’d ever experienced.

“We should go back,” Nor said, still staring at me. “I… I think I want to participate in the ceremony after all.”

I smiled. “I’ll be watching.”

#exophilia #harpy #harpy boyfriend #harpy lover #monster boyfriend #monster lover #ocXoc #MxF #Nor

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itstheendofthegoddamnworld · 4 years

Text

Male!Werewolf (Rhys) x Human! Reader (Modern AU) 3

PART 1 - PART 2

Male monster x human reader

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing Part 3

“There is no way I’m doing that.”

“Ah come now, sugar.” Rhys had been sat on your bed when he had told you the announcement: the prospect of meeting his parents and other brothers had been spoken about since after you had gotten together, but you didn’t think the motion would be so… extravagant.

“You didn’t tell me it was going to be this extra, Rhys.” You sighed, heavily, pinching at your nose as you searched through your wardrobe for anything that could make you look presentable. A cocktail party, something you didn’t think Rhys would ever introduce you to.

“It’s just for one night, babe. And then, when it’s all over, we can go back to yours and have as much pizza and movies you want.” He grinned toothily, his brown eyes winking your way. “How does that sound?”

“You’re terrible, you know that?” You exclaimed over your shoulder playfully. “I don’t even think I have anything appropriate.”

“You can dress down for me if you want.”

“Rhys, this isn’t helping.” You quavered, “I’m meeting your parents! I need to make a good impression.”

“Look, they’ll love you for who you are, no matter what you look like.” Rhys smiled, standing up and coming to hug you from behind, wrapping his muscular arms protectively around your waist.

“You mean it?”

“Of course, sugar. I don’t want you getting overwhelmed by this.” He kissed your cheek tenderly, the warmth coming through his chest radiating through your back. “I appreciate you coming with me though.”

You leant further back into his chest, “You mean it?”

“These events always bored me, and my old man always asked when I would bring back a girl for him and mom to meet, but I never did nor ever want to show up. This is something I want to do now, not just for my dad’s sake.”

You smiled at that, grateful to be able to do this for him. “Then, I hope they like me.”

“They will,” he nuzzled into your cheek, “just like how I do.”

“So you’re parents’ names are?”

“Atticus and Eleanor.”

“And you have four brothers - Nicholas, Theo, Marshall and Jackson.”

“Correction: Nick, Marshall then Theo and Jackson.” Smiled Rhys, as he turned the steering wheel to the left, coming off the main road and down towards the secluded and private narrow road. You were staring out the window, shifting your dress to cover your legs as best as you could as you watched the tall trees pass. “You didn’t tell me you owned a private house.”

“It was my grandfather’s, he gave it to all his children to come to for celebrations and whatnot. It’s just used more often by my pops than his other siblings. The Hawthorn manor, something that has been in our family for two centuries.”

“I didn’t know that.” You pondered. His family is big but I didn’t know they were rich. The manor was a piece of grandeur in his family’s name, and it certainly was something of glory: its high walls and stone marble were glossed in onyx, with high foliage that grew over the bricklayers with its bright red double doors on display. “It’s beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you, sugar.” Rhys was dressed to the max in a borrowed dark blue suit and black tie, his hair swept back and gelled back as his hand came to wander and squeeze your thigh. “If we weren’t going to this, well—I don’t think we’d even make it out the house.”

“Just keep an eye on the road, silly.” You playfully said, averting your gaze in which Rhys noticed, his deep chuckle always seemed to calm your nerves. “You’re gonna do amazing, babe. I know it. Just remember, deep breaths.”

You did as told, breathing through the nose and out through your mouth, in and out, until you could say you were slightly calmer. “Oh shit, we’re here.”

The driveway wasn’t really a driveway, but more like a small acre in a field: large enough to hold four grand cars as large as the BMW Rhys drove: all marbled and glossed black and leather-bound seats, you didn’t know what you were walking into.

You stepped out and walked over, arms linked to the door as Rhys gave the knocks to the red entrance, the sound itself seemed to reverberate through the outside of the manor than inside, but it was still all too impressive.

The doors opened suddenly and outpoured the two people Rhys held some tolerance for. His parents were similar in height and dressed accordingly to the occasion: reds and blacks of silk dresses and ties, their dark hair sprinkled with occasional greys throughout, their olive skin still youthful to make them look to be in their early 40s than late 50s.

“Rhys, you look well,” His mother was dressed beautifully in reds with a long-sleeved maxi dress and her lips being the same crimson shade, her hair pulled back into a neat bun. Her eyes landed on you with the unexpectant warmth that radiated like the sun, “you must be the special someone?” Her tone was welcoming, caring.

“That would be me, yes.” You sheepishly announced, before Eleanor took the initiative and embraced you tightly in a welcoming hug. “Welcome, my dear. It is so nice to have a new face around here.”

“You’re the one who’s got our boy’s head doing cartwheels?” Rhys’ father, Atticus was presenting himself with a beaming broad smile, his large hand coming to shake yours tightly and all too enthusiastically. “My future daughter-in-law will be the needed asset to this family.”

“If you would, dad, I don’t think we want to spend the evening in the cold,” Rhys informed with a roll of his honey-brown eyes. Eleanor took you by the arm as she took your coat to hang up.

“Finally, another girl to keep me company surrounded by these men.” She chuckled to herself, her eyes full of mirth. “You will like Rhys’ brothers, they take after my humour, not that old dog’s.”

“Hey, I’m still here.” Atticus jested with a wink, his crow’s feet creased. “Come, we can begin now that everyone’s here.”

You took a glance back to Rhys, portraying an ‘I’m sorry we were so late because I couldn’t curl my hair properly’ to which he looked back with an, ‘It’s okay, it’s still beautiful nonetheless.’

“Our guests have arrived, boys!” Eleanor announced, the reception room was extravagant with Corinthians that would put their Greeks to shame. There, from their spots turned the four men awaiting the final guests, all ranging in different heights and forms.

“Boys, come say nice to Rhys’ girlfriend. Be kind.” Eleanor warned, flashing a sympathetic smile as she hurried to collect more glasses for the two of you.

His brothers were all tall compared to Rhys, maybe the second to youngest, Jackson was an inch taller than Rhys, but Nicholas was and foremost the tallest, followed by just two inches, Theo, then Marshall.

“I didn’t know you were bringing a girl round?” Jackson announced first, grinning from ear to ear as he looked at Rhys’ body language and facial expressions, “A pretty one too.”

“Look, you can go find one for yourself to bring here,” Rhys kept his tone oddly calm for this intrusion, gripping at your hand securely, “we’re a thing.”

“So, you marked her?” Marshall looked you up and down with a single glance, his nostrils flaring momentarily. “I see no mark.”

“Nor do I smell her claim.” Jackson sniggered.

“You’re making her uncomfortable, Jack.” Theo came to push aside Jackson, smiling warmly to you in return. “Forgive us, we must look like animals tonight.”

“Hardly ever.” Retorted Rhys with a click of his tongue.

“I’m sorry,” you interrupted, feeling slightly aware that what they were talking about was making you uncomfortable, “what do you mean by claiming.”

“A wolf claims their mate when they find the one,” Nicholas joined in the conversation, leaning over to smile almost considerately. “It’s what wolves do when they care for their partner.”

“I see.” You could feel the tension build with the silent back and forth glares that Rhys was sent to his older brother, the sudden realisation and disappointment in knowing that you hadn’t been marked by Rhys yet… or would you ever be?

“I’m gonna get another drink. This is killing me.” Marshall slipped past, walking straight to the bar as Eleanor came back with two drinks of champagne in her hands. “Our finest, though it does go a bit to Jack’s head.”

“Funny.” Pouted Jackson, “I’m sober enough to see this night through.”

“Like last time was any better.” Nicholas seemed distracted elsewhere, his eyes always drifting in the room. “Summer of last year was an awful one.” Theo sighed dramatically, “For me.”

“We had a great time!”

“You set dad’s car on fire. And I had to clean up your sick.” Theo addressed as Jackson shrugged. “Okay—but we still had fun.”

“Come, Theo, you gotta help me with bringing up more bottles.” Eleanor grinned as she beckoned the kinder of the Pearson brothers away, leaving now just the four of you to idle chatter.

The champagne couldn’t go down your throat any faster.

You didn’t know whether the tension building between Rhys and Nicholas was already ready to burst, but when you had looked to the oldest Pearson brother, you had been surprised to see his hardened gaze on you already. He regarded you with a curt nod, before saying your name clearly.

“Nicholas.” You acknowledged him coolly. “You already met Nick?” Jackson addressed, eyeing the two of you up with suspicion. You regarded Nicholas with a small glance to find him already staring back at you. “Not on the best of terms, but yes.”

“I wasn’t in my best of moods, but I can say myself, I was acting like a dick,” Nick confessed earnestly. “No hard feelings?”

“None at all.”

“Good, I wouldn’t want to get awkward with you, since seeing you with Rhys makes him happy.”

“I didn’t think the day would come,” Jackson grinned, “he’s like a lovestruck puppy.”

“I’m still fucking here, Jack.” Gnarled lowly Rhys, his voice resorted to sounded two tones deeper than usual, almost imperceptible. “I’m sure your little girlfriend doesn’t want to hear you swear so much, Rhys,” Nick added, smirking thinly.

Rhys snorted through his nose as he gave you a final regretful look before storming off, saying under his breath of needing some more to drink. “My apologies for him, he’s always... struggled with expressing proper emotions.” Nicholas simply added whilst Jackson continued sniggering at the affair.

“Maybe to you, but not me.” You finally added, your brow furrowed, now angry to see how bad it could get being both the youngest and forgotten one of the family. “Yeah, he isn’t perfect, but who is? I like him just how he is, and I know that he cares for me.” You addressed to the both of them: Jackson’s laughter and jeering quietened, whilst Nicholas continued to stare at you as if you were the main hideous attraction to a circus.

“Now, I don’t know about you, but I want to enjoy my evening.” You pressed the champagne glass into your bottom lip, whilst finally, Nick was first to have a broad smile appear on his face as if your words had inspired him the most, his laugh a gentle and deep timbre. “You know, I didn’t think at first I’d like you, but you surely changed my mind.”

“How so?”

“You’re like him a lot, but that warmth and empathy you have is what maybe none of us showed much to Rhys.” He placed his large hand upon your shoulder, the warm startling hot in his palm. “I hope he sees himself how good you are to him.”

You couldn’t respond at first, but Nicholas’ words were merely earnest, as he collected his younger brother and dragged him off by the shoulder. “Come, Jack, let’s go find the others. Have a good evening.” He left with nothing else to say, leaving you more than confused and surprised by his change in his words. “What in the fuck?”

You had found him on the second floor on the balcony that you didn’t think would be accessible to them all, but here he was, staring out idly at the view that outstretched for acres.

“Hey, I knew I could find you here.” You smiled as you came to cradle you from his back, his back tensing from your touch as you leant into him, silently thinking to yourself as you took in his lack of words or movement. “Are you okay, Rhys?”

“I’m sorry about them, sugar.” He confessed, his voice hoarse and low, “I wanted to impress you and show them how good we were together, but all they did was mock and leer, mock you as much as my love for you.”

You removed yourself when you heard that certain word, the one word that made your stomach flutter and head spin. “You… you love me?”

“I know it’s shit, and I didn’t want to confess like this either.” He laughed dryly to himself, his eyes downcast. “I wanted to make it official too, you becoming… my mate.”

Mate. The word was innocent enough but it brought you to do somersaults in your mind, and your grip around his waist loosened enough to make Rhys assume you were reacting negatively to him. “You’re scared of me, aren’t you?”

“No, I just—I didn’t think you wanted to do this, not now.” You soothed, relaxing when his head rested against your forehead, his eyes closing in relative peace. “I didn’t want to pressure you into anything, not until you were comfortable with me.”

“Rhys,” you calmed him, “I’m with you until the very end. I… I love you.”

His eyes had opened when you confessed the three words to him, his honey-brown eyes so wide in realisation, yearning only for you. “I love you too, sugar. So much.”

He captured you lips rougher than you had expected, his fingers threading through your tresses, pulling you closer to him, the heat of his body and familiar scent of him was all you wanted and you needed.

“Shall we get out of here, babe?” He had asked with a full beam on his face when he had pulled away from you, the low growl reverberating through his chest like a soft motor.

“You want to ditch your family?” You had laughed, pulling him closer to you as he kissed from your jawline to your neck. “I mean, they won’t be looking for us now, and we can finally get that pizza and chill night in.”

You kisses him again, more passionately and rougher than the first time, pulling back to look him in the eyes as you felt the calmness lull you to competition. “I can’t say no to that then.”

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iknowthekoolaidflavor · 4 years

Text

Surrexit lingua vestra cattus

Thomas appears to be a friend, but he is a demon after all.

Pairing: demon!Thomas x reader

Word count: Abt 2k

A/N: The translations came from Google, so by any means, please correct my Latin. My idea for demons and their jobs is loosely based on Supernatural because I miss it so much 😭

Take Latin, they said.

It will be fun, they said.

As a senior, you thought taking a language class would somehow lighten your stressful workload, and you were wrong. Latin kicked your ass every single week.

“Why didn’t I take Spanish?”, you groaned, dropping your head on the desk

The dorm room was empty, save for the stressed-out senior studying for finals. Your roommate, the English major, breezed through all their courses with flying colors. Avery was a natural when it came to writing and criticizing your essays. They were sure to graduate at the top of the class. Y/N, on the other hand, struggled to conjugate daily activities in past tense. College may not have been too much of a stressor in life, but this semester has fucked you over in more ways than one. All you wanted to do was graduate on time and that meant for the next two semesters you had to take 18 credits.

With the final tomorrow, you knew relearning the information was a lost cause.

Can I go home and tell mom I failed? I will never hear the end of it.

I’ll have to sit through another lecture about switching majors.

The wayward thoughts took over, filling your head with how disappointed your family will be. You wrapped your arms around yourself, head dropped to your knees when you heard something hit the floor. To your left, a book managed to fall off the bookshelf, landing on its spine.

You took your time getting the open book off the floor and reading the bookmarked page. Who would have thought your precious roommate would also be interested in demonology? The page was in English except for one paragraph at the bottom written in Latin. You read it to yourself, wincing at your terrible pronunciation.

“I guess demons aren’t real after all”, you laughed to yourself as you placed the book back on the shelf

You turned on your heel, then ran into something solid.

“Who told you demons weren’t real, sweetheart?”

The figure braced himself for the scream that escaped your lips. It happened from time to time. Someone thought demon summoning was a joke, he showed up, then boom instant nightmare. The demon towered over you. He appeared to be in his thirties. The wild, but neat curls framing his face were enough to cover the bottom of his horns. He stared down at you with his pitch-black eyes, bored with your screams.

“Are you done yet?”, he scoffed, “I’m not that bad”

“You’re a demon”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing. I’m no longer disgusted in the presence of humans…although I should be. Just gross and full of emotions”

The demon walked around your small dorm, looking the at the bookshelf before his eyes landed on the book you just put away. He immediately perked up and pulled it off the shelf.

“I can’t believe they still make copies of these. Are you a fan of mine?”, he stared at you with a suggestive quirk of his brow

“It’s not my book, and why would I be a fan of you?”

“Sure, it isn’t. It’s also my book. Had to get the word out somehow”

“Everything is already stressing me out. Why would I want to add a demon to the mix?”, you hissed

“To make your life less stressful. That is what we’re here for”

“A demon just steps in, makes your life better at no cost at all?”

The demon smirked as he took a seat on your roommate’s desk. He remained composed during your interrogation. Typically, the deals were quick. Everyone knew what they wanted, and he set the nonnegotiable price for their demands. This might take a little longer, but he was up for the challenge.

“You have a point. Nothing is free, sweetheart”

“Don’t call me that”

“Don’t call me demon”

“Aren’t you a demon?”

He paused for a moment, opening his mouth for a smart remark, yet it never came. A soft laugh came in its wake.

“Thomas. You can call me Thomas”

The name put you at ease, but only for a little while. You sighed as you sat on your bed, picking up your Latin notes again.

“…and you are?”

“A human that doesn’t need your help. Nothing is worth risking a deal with a dem—you. I can’t risk that”

“There’s nothing I can help you with?”

“No”, you stated with as much firmness you could muster. The room felt slightly warmer since Satan’s spawn appeared out of nowhere.

“Not even your Latin homework?”, Thomas grinned, watching your faux hostility crumble. He knew you needed his help, but he did not mind waiting for you to ask nicely.

“I’m studying for a final and no, you can’t”

“I’ve lived for over three centuries. I think I’ve picked up more than enough Latin in my lifetime. Why do you think it’s all in my book?”

“Why would I want your help?”

“Because you’ll fail without me”

“No, I won’t. Maybe. Who cares? I don’t need your help”

“Well”, he sighed as he stepped off the bed, “te visurum”

Thomas’s hand touched the doorknob. How bad can it be? Why is he willing to help you? If he apparated in your room, why did he need to use the door?

“For dramatic effect. Do you want my help or not? I know a trick or two to help you study”, he reasoned, aware that you were already screaming yes

“Fine, but this is time for studying. I don’t need any distractions”

Thomas was indeed a distraction.

He stopped after every three phrases to ask you about your studies, hometown, and why you summoned him in the first place. You did not strike him as the type of person to summon a demon unless they were desperate.

The space between the two of you were sparse. The longer he stayed, the warmer it felt. The thermostat in the room remained untouched since he arrived. For some reason, you felt your body warming up the longer he stayed around you. You sat up on the bed with your laptop in front of you, attempting to put some space between you. Thomas laid on his side, holding himself up with his elbow. Every time his horn brushed against your arm; your skin tingled, sending small trembles to places in your body you did not want to speak about.

“Do demons have tails too?”

“Does it look like I have a tail?”

“You have black eyes and eyes, I wouldn’t put it past you”, you smirked, “Don’t get an attitude with me, blame the internet”

“I can’t do anything about the internet taking artistic liberties for what we look like, but some of it is erroneous. Don’t need a tail or wings”

“What about your horns? What’s their purpose?”

Thomas grew silent. He never wondered why he needed his horns, dark eyes, or claws. They were just there. They were a part of him. It made people fear him whenever they crossed paths and easier to get what he wanted without threatening violence. Although he loved the latter, it made his life much easier. It did not take much for him to intimidate the strongest of men, but you seemed different. Besides the initial reaction, it appeared that there’s no part of you that feared him. If no one knew who he was, one would think you were talking to another human.

“Did I offend you or something?”, you asked, finally looking up from your notebook

“No”, Thomas blinked, “Not at all. It’s going to take more than that to offend me…”

“I’m still not giving you my name and I like a challenge”

Little did you know, so did he.

“I’ve been living amongst demons for so long, I forgot that humans aren’t used to our appearance. It got pretty lonely down there, then I came here and not much changed”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone who won’t scream for the hills when they see you”, you giggled

“I may have found one already”, Thomas replied with a devious smirk, “I’m going to give you a little push. There’s no way you’re passing this class…”

Trying to look offended was no use. You knew you were not going to pass either, regardless if Thomas helped you or not. This was a lost cause, and you were back where you started. Thomas pulled himself off the bed, collecting his coat and fixing his hair.

“There is another way I can help you, darling”

You closed your laptop and notebook, moving to the edge of the mattress.

“I’m not making a deal with you”

“You don’t have to. I’ll help you pass, and you’ll give me nothing in return”

“Why?”

“Do you know how often college students ask me for penis enlargement? Not help with studying. Not passing a class or paying for tuition. But you? You’re different. I like you, which is why this one’s on me”

“You’re going to help me…for free?”

“I only want to help”, he said, offering up his hands in mock surrender, “Next time, you’ll know when you’re summoning a demon. Do you know how much danger you put yourself in? Also, I’ll be happy to know you passed that final because you’re bound to fail”

“Gee, thanks”

If he helps you pass, he may come back and renege on his offer. There is probably some fine print that says you will belong to him for all of eternity. On the other hand, no more nagging from your mother about your major.

“Fine, I accept”, you agree as you moved to shake his hand

“Oh sweetheart”, Thomas laughed, “You naïve little thing. You really are new to this. That’s not how we seal the deal”

Thomas took a step forward, stepping in between your legs. In that moment, you became painfully aware of the dampness between your thighs.

“A quick kiss, then we’re all done”

You allowed him to move closer. He placed his hands against your cheeks as he placed a soft kiss on your lips. Thomas took his time kissing you, nails ghosting above your collar bone. The gasp that escaped gave him space to slide his tongue in your mouth. You found your hands tangled in his shirt, trying to pull him closer. Thomas happily obliged, placing his hands on the mattress, giving you the chance to wrap your arms around his neck.

Thomas’s hands inched up your shirts as he left rough kisses on your neck. The moan you released when he bit down on the flesh made him weak. His fingers wrapped around your hair and gave a slight tug. When your eyes rolled to the back of your head, he pulled harder, trying to hold himself up with his cock pressed into your thigh. You became so pliant in a matter of moments. This was all he wanted.

Before his hands could reach your bra, the faint sound of keys rang from the other side of the door. Panicked, you pushed Thomas off you.

“See you soon Y/N”, he winked before disappearing

Avery walked in as you were picking their book off the floor. You were quickly pulling your shirt down and trying to fix your hair.

“Told you the book was good”, they smirked

“Can I borrow it for a little longer?”

“Sure”

The next morning you woke up with last night as a distant memory. You quizzed yourself on past and present tense while you showered and focused on your phrases as you got dressed. You knew you were going to pass, something about today just felt right.

You stepped out your dormitory and headed to class. Across the yard, one of your classmates called out to you.

“Y/L/N, want to walk together?”

There was no reason to say no, but when you opened your mouth to say yes, nothing came out. You tried over and over, but each time, your mouth moved, your voice failed to follow suit. You stood in the middle of the yard. Everything felt like it moved in slow motion. Thomas took something valuable to you, and you were none the wiser to his game.

You yanked the demon book from your backpack, intent on summoning the very demon you now despise. In the middle of the cover was a sticky note with a message that made your blood boil.

Quid est? Surrexit lingua vestra cattus

te visurum - see you later

Quid est? Surrexit lingua vestra cattus - What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?

#demon!thomas #demon!thomas x reader #thomas jefferson #thomas jefferson x reader #thomas x reader #hamilton #hamilton fic #demon au #dark!thomas #dark!thomas x reader #dark!thomas jefferson #dark!thomas jefferson x reader

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years

Text

“My Fairy Abogado” *Part 4*

If anyone ever wants me to put the English translations of the Spanish I use in here, please let me know.

Or are you all just googling them?😂

Tag List:

@dumauier

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@word-scribbless

@objection-argumentative

@wanniiieeee

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 5

“What the hell did he want?”

Beto’s voice startled you from behind.

“Beto! Language!” You scolded him, trying to shake off the fear in your voice.

“Whatever, I think we have bigger problems,” He rolled his eyes.

“What did he want?” he pressed you.

“Nothing! Just...nothing,” you waved it off.

“It wasn’t nothing-- it was about that abogado, wasn’t it?”

“Rafael? Why would the Diablos hate Rafael?” Chloe chimed in.

“Because he sent one of them away for a very long time,” Beto answered her.

“Yay! I knew he was a good guy!”

“Yeah he won’t be, if he gets us killed,”

“BETO!” You threw your hands over Chloe’s ears. “Stop. You’re going to scare her,”

“Well she should be scared, if you’re willing to risk our lives because some abogado made goo goo eyes at you!”

“That is NOT true, and you know it,” you snapped.

“Yeah Rafael is going to help us get Mami and Papi back, Beto!” Chloe yelled, making you remove your hands.

“You can hear us?” You asked, she nodded.

“What do you want Chloe, do you want mami and papi back or do you want your life?”

“BETO, Seriously,” You hit him on the shoulder.

“Don’t listen to him Chlo, he’s being dramatic,” Yaz finally piped up.

“I swear it’s like you are a woman sometimes,” She added.

“Well look what I live with!” He gestured to all three of you. “And I’m NOT being dramatic,”

“YES, you are,” You grabbed a mop and a bucket.

“Nobody is hurting us, and we’re not talking about it anymore,” You warned him as you put the mop in his hands.

“Chloe, Yaz-- wipe down the counters and windows for me, yeah?” You handed them two rags as they begrudgingly agreed.

“Ok I’ll be right back-- ASH!” You called over to Ash at the hostess stand, she was on her phone per usual.

“Watch them for me,” You motioned between the three of your siblings.

“Watch them? You gonna start paying me for babysitting too?!” She yelled back.

“I don’t need a babysitter, I'm 15! I’m a man!”

“Yeah a man CHILD,” Yaz laughed.

“I’ll show you man child--” Betro grabbed the mop and put it up to Yaz’s face, making her scream in disgust.

“Ewwwww! Beto!!” She screamed as Beto chased her with the mop.

“See what I mean?” You put your hands together in a begging stance.

“Five minutes,” She rolled her eyes.

“Thank you!”

-------

You went to the back, dialing Rafael’s number.

“That was fast,” You heard him smile through the phone.

“H-How did you know it was me?”

“Call it lawyer’s intuition,”

“Yeah well apparently your intuition didn't think about hanging around a Diablo’s territory,”

“What?”

“They came in here after you left,”

“What did they say?”

“They know you got one of them sent away,”

“Shit--I should’ve figured that. After I gave Maria that money it figures she probably went to a Diablo dealer--”

“Wait, did you just say you gave her the money?”

“Yeah…”

“You gave Ash’s mom money to go kill herself?”

“I didn’t-- it wasn’t like that!” He was frantic.

“Then how was it, counselor?”

“I...I wanted her to calm down, so that she would be able to testify. I just wanted her to be calm. I didn’t...I didn’t think…she’d...” He trailed off, on the verge of tears.

“But she did,” You scoffed.

“Look don’t you think I carry that around with me every day? You know that’s why I give Ash the money I give her! I thought you said she told you that,” He replied angrily.

“No, she told me that you knew who gave her the money. I don’t think she knows you’re actually the one who killed her,”

“I didn’t kill her!”

“Yeah you just gave her money to do it herself,”

“Did you call me just to guilt me about the biggest mistake I’ve ever made?” He gruffed.

“No…” you sighed. “I’m sorry…” You felt a pang of guilt; you knew he was a good guy, he probably felt guilty about Ash’s mom every day and here you were shoving it in his face.

“I’m just scared,” You bit your lip.

“Did he threaten you?”

“No, he offered for all of us to go out for some coffee later-- OF COURSE he threatened me!” You threw your hands up as it was totally obvious.

“Dammit, I’m--I’m sorry, Y/N,” He sighed. “I should’ve thought about that when Ash invited me to dinner at your place,” You could picture him pacing in his office.

“So you regret coming down here?” You asked softly.

“No! Not at all. Do...do you regret meeting me?” You could hear the fear in his voice.

“No!” You immediately answered, but then paused. “I mean, not really,”

“If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have a target on your back right now,”

“Oh please Rafael, you lived here. There’s ALWAYS targets on people’s back, no matter who they know,”

“That is true,”

“But--” you sighed nervously. “He--He did threaten the kids, and my family, if you came down here again,”

“Fuck…” He muttered.

There was a long pause, so long you thought he might have hung up.

“...You need to come here,”

“I’m sorry, what?” You almost lost it laughing.

“I can’t protect you from here!”

“I didn’t ask you to protect me!” You half laughed.

“Then why are you calling me?”

“I called you to say stay away from us,” You sighed.

“...Do you really mean that?” You could picture his puppy dog eyes as he spoke.

“Rafael, look-- I already told you. I have to put the kids first-- I can’t put their lives in danger just because your smile makes me weak,”

“...Does it now?” You could hear him smirking through the phone.

“Shut up, you know what I mean. I can’t put what I want before them,” You replied in a flush.

“But you said they need their parents,”

“They also need to LIVE,” You scoffed.

“Please, Diego is all bark and no bite. I grew up with his brother, they’re full of shit,”

“Well I’m sorry I don’t have the luxury of taking that chance while I sit in my ivory tower,” You said sarcastically.

“....That’s not fair. I told you how hard I worked--”

“Yeah and I’m happy for you! I’m glad that you got out of here, I really am. But I’m still here,” You ran your hands through your hair.

“That’s why I’m saying come to me!” He argued.

“Are you not hearing me? I run a restaurant, Rafael! I have kids to think of! I have a LIFE here. I can’t just run away with you,”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” He sighed. “I meant bring the kids,”

“Did you? Because I think you know that’s impossible. Where are you gonna put all of us? You’re going to rip them away from their home? Their friends? Their life? And and then, then when we’re gone they’ll just go after Mari, or worse Ashtawnja! Or do you want her blood on your hands too?”

“...That’s the last time I’m going to let you bring that up again, or I’m hanging up.” He growled.

“Fine, you’re right. But you also know I’m right-- you can’t save everyone, Raf,” You blinked back tears. “But you can save us by staying away,”

“I...I can’t do that,” He muttered.

“YES, you can. And you better because I swear to God Rafael if you show up here and the Diablo’s take it out on me or my family I will NEVER let you out of the guilt from that,”

“Just...Look just...just let me come and talk to--”

“NO. No, okay? Just lose this number,” You hung up abruptly.

You put your hands over your face as you slumped down the wall slowly, silent tears falling down your face. You hated having to tell him to stay away from you, that was the last thing you wanted. But you knew it was for the best.

Little did you know, Rafael wasn’t that easily deterred.

----

It was late, you had closed hours ago and the kids had been asleep even longer. You couldn’t sleep, you were thinking about Rafael. Suddenly, a knock on the back door of the restaurant knocked you from your guilt. You grabbed one of Beto’s old little league bats and crept downstairs, as the knocking continued. You crept closer, and swung it open, waving a bat in the intruder’s face.

“DON’T FUCK WITH ME!!!!” You screamed, only to miss the guy and fell flat on your face.

“....And what exactly were you going to do to a Diablo with a bat in your shorty shorts and a tank top, hermosa?”

You turned to see Rafael dressed in street clothes. His usual pristine suit was replaced with a leather jacket and jeans that showed off his amazing ass, topped with the black fitted tee showed off the fact that he may be older, but he took care of his body. VERY well. He was decked out in tons of gold chains and rings, you were half shocked he didn’t have a fake grill as well.

You leapt to your feet, trying your best not to stare. If you didn’t have kids upstairs you would jump him right there in the alleyway.

“...Is that how they dressed when you lived here?” You smirked, trying to hide the fact that you were incredibly turned on.

“Oh come on, you know I look sexy,” He winked. “....Or at least your nipples do,”

You glanced down at your pretty thin tank top to see your nipples standing at full attention. You clamped your arms around your chest quickly, feeling your face growing hotter by the second.

“...It’s cold out here,” You scoffed, but you knew you were totally busted. You hurried him inside, locking the door behind you.

“Okay sexy flirting aside, I told you not to come here!”

“You said the abogado couldn’t come here, so he didn’t,” He presented himself.

“Oh right, so you think you came here under the radar in that outfit, do you?” You half laughed.

“Well that and the fact that I came down here on my bike and not in an Uber,”

“On a bicycle Raf, seriously?” You were now snickering.

“No, smart ass. My BIKE,” He nodded outside. You cracked the door open to reveal a black motorcycle.

“You, ride a motorcycle?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I do,” He smiled.

“You are full of surprises, counselor,” You smiled as you bit your lip.

“Keeps it interesting,” He smirked, pulling on your tank top.

“So....does this mean I can ‘fraternize’ with this Rafael?”

“Rafa,” He corrected you, rolling the R. “And he can protect you,”

“I never said Rafael couldn’t protect-- is that why you did this?” You suddenly felt guilty for making him think he couldn’t be who he was to be with you.

“Rafael can protect you with restraining orders and lots of legal bullshit-- Rafa can protect you, the way you need to be protected right now,”

“And how exactly is that, ese?” You raised an eyebrow.

He smiled slightly and moved his leather jacket, revealing a Glock in his belt. Your smile quickly faded, pushing him angrily.

“What the FUCK, Rafa?” You hissed, trying not to wake the kids. “You brought a gun into my house?!”

“I thought that’s what you wanted!”

“You thought I wanted another cholo? This place is crawling with them, Rafa. I want the nice, handsome man that came in here the other day,” You pulled on the collar of his leather jacket.

“No you don’t, you told him to leave you alone,” He looked down and away at the floor in sadness.

“I…” you put your hand over your head, running your fingers down through your hair.

“You’re right. I did,” You couldn’t fault him for listening to you, kind of.

“So...you gonna let me protect you or what, carino?”

You thought about it, milling it around in your brain. You glanced upstairs towards the kids, then looked at this new “Rafa”.

After about a minute, you walked up to Rafa, pressing your body against his.

“Alright guapo, you can stay,” you smirked. “But THIS, can’t,” You pulled the gun from it’s holster.

“Fair enough,” He nodded and then went outside to lock the gun under his seat compartment. When he returned, he had a huge mischievous smile.

“So does that mean we--” He started to talk but that jacket with those abs couldn’t hold you back any longer. You grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him into your face. He responded by picking you up, you wrapped his legs around his chest as you two continued kissing. You fumbled with his jacket, trying to rip it off his body.

“Easy hermosa, this jacket’s $200,” He chuckled, calmly sliding it off his arms and tossing it on your back table. He continued to kiss you, going for your tank top to pull off when…

“Rafael?”

You both immediately ceased the making out and turned to see a sleepy Chloe, standing at the top of the stairs staring at the two of you.

BUSTED.

#rafael barba #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagine #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #my fairy abogado

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whats-rambled-rambled · 4 years

Text

stuck in stories - Nikki

Neil x Reader

summary:

//I see you with her, and it crushes me inside Guess I should stop thinkin' about you all the time Maybe this is what I needed Maybe this is a sign//

+ song: Tori Kelly - All in my head

warnings: language, utter heartbreak I guess?

author’s note: another request! This one-shot is a straight-up prequel to the events happening in Stuck in Reverse series. The tipping point in the history of our favourite chaotic idiots, you may say.

Let me know what you think!

___

The atmosphere in the car was volatile. You were determined not to make a scene in front of Wheeler, but as she pulled over to drop Neil off next to his apartment, he exploded first.

“Enlighten me, since when exactly do you have problems with following simple instructions?”

“For fuck’s sake, this is rich, coming from you-” you snarled at him and reached for the doorknob. “Thanks Wheeler, I’ll walk from here.”

You glared at Neil with a silent plea for keeping his mouth shut until you both leave. He pressed his lips together and nodded.

“You sure? It’s pouring,” your colleague glanced at you in the rear-view mirror. You could say that even though she was concerned about your well-being, she would gladly dump the two of you right there, without having to deal with your bullshit any longer.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, see you tomorrow.”

You jumped out of the car the second it stopped. It was bucketing down. The city’s lights were reflecting in huge puddles. The smell of wet asphalt was lingering in the air. In different circumstances, it would be quite mesmerizing.

You didn’t want to talk to Neil. Not right then. You were so ashamed of losing your edge and endangering the mission. And your squad. The sole thought about what could have happened made you nauseous. It would have been your own goddamn fault. Again. You forced yourself to inhale. All you had to do was to start walking to your apartment located a few blocks away. Easy, right?

Not quite so, not with fuming Neil blocking your way, staring at you angrily.

His blue eyes were searching for yours, but you weren't ready to meet them.

You were too afraid of what he might see.

The truth was, part of you’d hoped that Neil would have been pissed enough to let you go. But he was still him, no matter what you’d kept telling yourself over the last weeks.

“What’s going on? Because what’s happened today...that wasn’t you.”

He wasn’t wrong. But he wasn’t exactly right either.

Nevertheless, it was enough for you to build another wall around yourself.

You shrugged and spat out, “Seems like there are so many sides to me that you don’t know, then.”

“Even that is unusually dramatic,” he scoffed, the corner of his lips twitching in more of a reflex than an honest attempt to smile.

You were just so fed up.

You finally looked him in the eyes. “Go to hell Neil,” you sighed and tried to walk around him.

But he wasn’t gonna let it slide that easily.

Neil took a step to the side and blocked you one more time.

“Wow, are you just gonna walk away?” he sneered as he crossed his arms, faint notes of disappointment ringing in the question.

“Any better ideas?” you huffed as you tried to go around him again.

And as you almost succeeded, Neil grabbed your wrist. You held your breath and squinted your eyes shut, desperate to keep your emotions at bay.

“Look at me.”

The soft undertones in his voice made a crack in your walls. You sighed heavily and glanced at him over your shoulder.

Neil didn’t waste that short moment of your attention. He pulled your wrist, making you turn his way as reached for the other one. When he looked at you, you noticed that all anger in his expression was replaced by concern. “Talk to me, please.”

“Oh, now you want to talk?” a laugh escaping your mouth was almost hysterical. Better late than never, but you were too hurt to care at that point. You tried to break away from his grasp and the rain was working in your favor; you managed to wriggle out your wrists, only for Neil to catch your hands firmly a second later.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His calmness was driving you crazy and you snapped.

“I haven’t seen you in weeks!”

The accusation hit him hard. For a moment Neil loosened his hold, but then he squeezed your hands again. His brows furrowed as he opened his mouth to protest, you didn’t want to hear it though.

You winced. “Don’t say anything, I get it.”

You kept seeing each other at work, after all. What else did you need? When he wasn’t on assignments, he spent every moment with his girlfriend. That was understandable. It was also the first year you’d spent your holiday alone. But he’d been busy renovating Nikki’s apartment. What was most important though, he was so happy and you didn’t want to bother him or dump your problems on him. You could handle yourself. Most of the time, anyway.

And now he wanted to talk.

You didn’t even know what could you possibly start with. The sleepless nights? The worrying news from home? Or maybe the toll the Canada missions had taken on your body and your mental health? Or simply the fact that you’d been lonely and you were missing your best friend? Even when he was standing right there in front of you?

Neil’s thumbs were gently stroking your knuckles, his worried eyes never left yours.

Your chest was clenched so hard you could barely breathe.

“It’s just too much,” you started, fighting for every word to make it past the lump in your throat. You chuckled bitterly at the sudden thought. It was quite accurate, doubly so with that bloody weather. “It feels like I’m drowning.”

And like nobody cared.

As if he could hear the last thought, Neil pulled your hands to his chest and smiled sadly.

“I’m right here.”

...but was he really? You bit your lower lip to stop it from trembling and let out a shaky breath.

A hint of pain clouded Neil’s expression as he urged you softly, “Let’s talk it over, okay? Come inside, and-” a sudden frown on your face sparked a slight panic in his mind. “...or not, we can go anywhere, we’ll get some tea or we’ll order drinks and get shitfaced, whatever you need, just please-”

“Babe, what are you doing here? ...Oh, hi Y/N.”

You didn’t know what hurt more. How quickly Neil let go of your hands and took a step back when his girlfriend approached the both of you. Or watching Nikki placing a long kiss on his lips.

Or the way she looked at you after that.

And to think that you used to be friends.

It was hard not to like her though. She was pretty as a doll and insanely charismatic – and she knew how to use both of those to her advantage. She strolled through life as it was one big party, with everyone around her being there to cater to her every need.

But hey, maybe you were just jealous.

Nikki’s eyes were darting between Neil and you from under the umbrella. Finally, she pouted and shot him a disapproving look. “We need to leave in 10 minutes and you look like a disaster.”

Neil smacked his tongue as he flashed his teeth in frustration.

“Jesus, it’s Wednesday already...”

“Yes babe, and we are supposed to be at my parents’ in an hour, so chop chop! Sorry, Y/N.” she grimaced and gestured towards the building’s door.

Neil’s shoulders slumped as he weighed all the choices in his head. You could see how torn he was.

It was more than you could take.

“It’s fine. You shouldn’t be late,” you forced a weak smile on your face, trying to cover the hollowness of your voice. “See you at work.”

You waved your hand and started walking. Soaked to the skin. Shivering, but you weren’t sure if it was from the cold or the exhaustion. Or from the broken heart.

Suddenly, you heard footsteps behind you.

“Wait!”

You stopped, blinking rapidly, so Neil wouldn’t see your tears.

You turned around.

Neil was clearly battling with himself for a moment, but then he placed both hands on your arms.

“Are we okay?” he asked, locking his gaze with yours.

You sighed.

“Neil...”

He shook his head and squeezed your arms slightly.

“I need to know.”

The determination in his blue eyes was tainted with sadness, and it made the pit in your chest grew an inch.

You nodded and gave him a weak smile. “We’re okay.”

Neil exhaled shakily as he brushed a wet strand of hair from your face.

“How about you?” he asked softly, cupping your cheek with his palm.

That gesture brought you on the verge of breaking down. You wanted nothing more but to embrace him, to feel his arms wrapped around you tightly, to hide your face in the crook of his neck, and to forget about the whole world even for just a second.

You caught the sight of Nikki standing in front of their apartment’s door and looking in your direction.

It took all your strength not to choke on the lump in your throat.

You put your hand on his chest. His heart was pounding heavily under your fingers.

“I will be,” you whispered. “Go back to her.”

_____

“Thank you, I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Of course,” said TP as he closed the door. A quick look at your puffy eyes, the pale face, and your trembling hands was enough for him to assess the situation. He took your coat and motioned for you to follow him further into his hotel room. “Towel? G&T? Pizza?”

You chuckled lightly.

“Yes to all, thanks.”

After a few minutes, you were no longer dripping all over the floor. As you rested on an armchair, your boss handed you a drink.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you anyway,” he said, sitting down on a sofa.

Your heart sank in your chest.

“Am I in trouble?”

“You tell me,” his eyebrow raised at the sight of a puzzled look on your face. “What’s up with you two?”

Oh, that.

You shook your head and tightened your grip on the drink.

“Nothing.”

He scoffed. “This nothing almost cost us a mission today.”

“I’m sorry. It’s not gonna happen again,” you sighed. God, you were so embarrassed.

TP hummed, taking a sip of his drink. “I sure as hell hope so.”

He was still waiting for the answer though.

You fixed your eyes on your glass. You couldn’t bullshit your way out of this one. You trusted him and you knew whatever you were going to say, it would never leave this room. And that thought was enough. “It’s just… I don’t know how much longer I can endure this.”

His dark eyes were scanning your face.

“Is Neil really just a friend?”

Bullseye.

You sighed and closed your eyes.

“I see,” he said, a corner of his lips curling into a knowing smile.

The void in your chest was eating you alive. You knew what you needed to do.

You just had to say it.

“Reassign me.”

TP leaned on his seat. He wasn’t surprised. Just concerned. “Are you sure?”

“No,” you mumbled. You were lightheaded. You hoped that making this decision would lift some weight out of your chest. Quite the opposite, though. “But it hurts… every god awful day it hurts. More and more,” you said quietly as you looked in the dark eyes with determination. “And I can’t risk today’s disaster happening ever again.”

Your boss nodded.

“You gonna tell him?”

Oh god. Even thinking about that was more than you could handle. You shook your head and downed your drink.

“And if he asks?”

“I don’t know,” - you shrugged - “tell him you couldn’t find anybody better for that position?”

TP smirked. “Ah, standard operating procedure, then.”

“Hey now!” you snorted, but a shade of smile appeared on your lips.

And that was enough for him. “I’ll see to it. If that’s really what you want.”

You had no other choice.

“Thank you.”

You just hoped that one day you would be able to forgive yourself.

...And that one day Neil would forgive you, too.

#neil x reader #neil tenet x reader #neil tenet #neil tenet imagine #robert pattinson #stuck in reverse #stuck in stories

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ickle-ronniekins · 4 years

Text

duet | golden

DUET MASTERLIST

desc: fred loves to tease his twin. more importantly, he loves to tease his twin about you. so when the opportunity arrises to invite you for summer holiday and keep it from george, fred takes it. and george, stunned at your appearance in the entrance of his house, is flabbergasted and nervous. but maybe, just maybe, it’s the perfect time to tell you -- maybe it’s the perfect time to tell you just exactly how he’s been feeling.

a/n: hi! i don’t even know what number leeann and i are up too with these installments! leeann and i love these two little goofballs so much. i'm so grateful she approached me a few weeks ago asking to do this collab. also i knoooow the summer before the trio’s 5th year they’re supposed to be at headquarters but whatever just indulge me okay? also yes she’s in hufflepuff but let’s pretend the houses can pack together and hang together in their common rooms OKAY!

word count: 3.8k sorry

warnings: naaaah

“It’s going to be our final year! Aren’t you sad, Freddie?”

You were adding the last of your things to the top of your trunk -- your clean quills, your neatly folded socks, your straight, unwrinkled ribbons, and of course, the letters. The letters that kept coming. From your secret admirer.

“Not really,” Fred grinned brightly. He was sprawled out on the couch in the empty Gryffindor common room, his trunk on the floor next to him. The two of you were alone. Most everyone was now down in the Great Hall, getting ready to leave. How was it summer holiday already?

You noticed the ends of Fred’s shirts sticking out of the sides of his trunk and you rolled your eyes. Silly boy. You reckoned he needed a lesson in folding. Properly. Had he not learned a thing from his mother?

“Not really?” you barked, shooting him a very angry gaze. Blood was rushing to your face out of pure resentment. “Bloody hell, Fred, it’s our last year at school. You can’t tell me you don’t really care, do you?”

He closed his eyes and placed his hands behind his head, relaxing at the thought of almost being out of Hogwarts for good. “I dunno, Y/N, I’m rather excited about it, actually. What’s got your wand in a knot?”

You huffed dramatically. Why didn’t anyone understand you? You sat down on your closed trunk and grumpily began to tie your shoes. “Because! It’s almost over! And we’ve got to spend as much time together as we can, don’t we, Fred? George, too. So no running off all the time next school term, yeah? Not to mention we’ve got this summer holiday now -- can’t believe we won’t see one another until September...”

“Right,” Fred replied. His eyes opened with a jolt and he sat upright rather quickly and grabbed you by the shoulders, frightening you. You brought your hand to your chest in surprise.

“Merlin, Fred!”

“What would you say, Y/N,” he began, his face in a tight-lipped, cheeky grin, “if I say you should come to the Burrow this summer?”

Your eyes widened -- both in delight and in nerves. The Burrow? Their home? You’d heard such wonderful things -- the way George had talked about it had made it seem like the most wonderful, cozy place. He knew you loved cozy things. He knew how much you’d enjoy the idea of his mum sitting by the fire, knitting away, with a cup of tea on the table next to her. It’s what he imagined you’d do too, if you were there.

“R-really?” you asked Fred now, hoping that for this one moment, he’d place his teasing aside, because you could not afford to get your hopes up again. Not now. Not after the disaster that was the Yule Ball. The almost-kiss. The night that wasn’t.

“Yeah, really,” Fred made it absolute, taking your hands in his. “C’mon! Mum and Dad won’t mind -- pretty sure Harry and Hermione might be coming for a bit, as well. You’d love it, I know you would. Not to mention George will be there, obviously--”

You swatted him playfully with the end of your shirt sleeve, your face glowing the same shade of red as the common room carpet. You ignored that statement; it was rather rude of him, actually, especially when the ball, even though it was months ago, was still fresh in your mind. Ever-present. That silly cheek kiss. The twirling in your dress. The giggles that echoed in your ears. It was all still there, painfully and excitingly so.

But the prospect of hanging around the Burrow with your very best friends was inviting. How could you not, when the offer was right in front of you? How could you possibly decline? Hadn’t you just said you wanted to spend as much time together as you could? A small grin lifted your cheeks and your eyes brightened at the thought. “Okay then, Freddie. Count me in.”

He smiled and placed a hand to your knee. “Atta girl.”

“Ooh! I’ve got to go and tell George!”

Before you could grab your trunk and make your way through the portrait hole, Fred jumped to his feet and ran toward the exit. He placed his hand on his chest. “No, no -- let me, alright? Besides, miss,” he pointed to your spellbooks lying in a heap next to your feet, “you’ve still got packing to do.”

And before you could fight him on it, he winked at you and hopped into the corridor, vanishing before your eyes. You scoffed and looked down at your spellbooks and began placing them into your bag. What was that look in Fred’s eyes just before he’d left? Exuberance? Delight? ...mischief? Why couldn’t you shake the feeling that Fred Weasley was definitely up to something?

________________

The Burrow was glowing underneath the summer sunlight. George, Fred, Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione were hovering in the sky on their broomsticks, playing a bit of Quidditch in the sweltering heat. George, annoyed that his twin had made him play Keeper, of all positions, wiped a bit of sweat from his forehead.

“You’re a right git, Fred!” George called as the elder twin threw the Quaffle right passed his head. George, in an attempt to block it, flipped completely upside down, nearly falling off of his broom. Ginny squealed with laughter alongside Ron. A natural Chaser, Fred was. He reckoned he’d play that position if he wasn’t such a bloody brilliant Beater. But George -- a Keeper? He wasn’t the greatest.

Molly was rummaging around the kitchen. Straightening up. You’d be arriving soon, wouldn’t you? She had a pot of tea on. All of the children flooded into the house. “Don’t make a mess!” Molly huffed, “I’ve just tidied up!”

“Mum, why on Earth have you got tea on? It’s bloody blazing outside!” George asked. He dipped his head under the sink and ran cold water over his head. Molly swatted him with her rag.

“Oh, George, get out from under there, won’t you? Straighten yourself up.” She pulled at his sweaty shirt, ran a hand through his very askew hair to try and straighten it, and wiped a bit of sweat from his face, just like she had when he was a little boy. Then she turned to Fred, Ron, and the others. “You lot, as well! She’ll be here soon!”

“Sorry,” George asked, noting the very bright grin spreading across Fred’s face. “But.. who will be here soon?”

There was a quiet knock at the door. Nervously, you stepped across the threshold -- a bag slung over your shoulder, your hair pulled into a neat side ponytail, a pale yellow tee shirt beneath your overalls. “Erm -- don’t mean to bother --”

“Oh!” Molly squealed. She immediately rushed toward the door and pulled you into an incredibly tight embrace. She smelled of rosemary and lavender. She cupped your face in her hands and peered down at you with the most warm and welcoming smile. “We’re so happy to have you, Y/N. Come! I’ve just set a pot of tea!”

You hadn’t even had time to thank Molly for letting you stay before Fred was tugging you into his arms. He was yucky -- all sweaty from being outside, but he didn’t let go. In fact, he just squeezed you harder, the sweat from his head dripping onto your clothes. Ick. “Bloody finally, was wondering when the hell you were going to show up,”

“Language, Frederick!” Molly barked.

You grinned excitedly at Fred and made your rounds. The Burrow was even more beautiful than you’d imagined, more beautiful than their stories. Several stories high, swallowed fully in cozy autumn colors. You could see now, as you peered at every single crevice of the home, why the Weasleys loved it so much. You wanted to live here, too.

“So happy you were able to come,” Ginny told you as she grasped your arms. It seemed that everyone was incredibly elated to have you join for the remainder of the summer. Everyone, that is, except for George.

He was standing on the other end of the kitchen, frozen solid, as if his feet had been cemented into the ground. He had half a glass of water placed right to his lips, but he wasn’t drinking. His whole entire body was rigid. His eyes wide with wonder. What on Earth were you doing here? In his house?

“Y/N,” he said, finally finding his voice. A bit croaky. He was trying not to stare, he really was, but he was finding it difficult. He genuinely could not peel his eyes off of you. Maybe it was the way your eyes were glistening. Maybe it was the way your dimples appeared as your lazy grin grew on your face. Perhaps, he thought, it was the very bright magenta colored ribbon in your hair, tied perfectly into a small bow at the top of your head. It was a color he’d never seen before, but one, he realized, he wanted to learn all about. “I--I didn’t know you were coming.”

“You didn’t?”

You peered at George quizzically, the two of you standing across from each other, not moving. The entire scene was rather dramatic, actually -- Fred, behind you, stifling a bit of laughter and snorting -- Molly, flushed and confused, because how could her son not know you were coming for a visit? Surely he’d heard them all discussing it the last few days? Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny, giggling slightly at the sight of a very flustered, very nervous, very obvious George.

“Freddie,” you said, whirling around to face the elder twin. “I thought you said you were going to tell him?”

A cheeky, mischievous grin appeared on Fred’s lips. “Whoops -- must’ve forgotten.”

“I’m sorry --” George started, placing his hands on the counter, trying his best not to grin like an idiot. “How long have you two been planning this?”

“Since the last day of term!” you said, finally moving forward and pulling him into a tight hug. It was very difficult for George to not melt completely into you. He did anyway, though. It’d been weeks since an embrace from you, one he’d been yearning for. Dreaming of. He’d been positively woebegone when he’d hugged you goodbye on the platform at King’s Cross. Can’t wait to see you soon! You’d said, your grin large and eyes sparkling. George had just thought you meant the new school term come September. He had no bloody idea --

Your body molded perfectly into his, and he breathed in the smell of your hair -- strawberries, he reckoned. With a dash of mint. You continued, pulling back, “I can’t believe Fred didn’t tell you!”

George, a bit woozy from the sight of you, straightened himself up and ran a hand quickly through his hair. He then cleared his throat and spoke, trying to sound casual. “I know! But, even so. Happy to have you here,” he told you, grinning at the sight of your exuberance. “More than.”

“Me too, Georgie.”

George’s happiness didn’t stop him from shooting a very scathing look at his cackling twin in the corner.

________________

You were there. Just a few floors away. You were there -- in his house, in the middle of summer holiday, for four weeks! A whole bloody month!

“I’m going to absolutely kick your arse, Fred.”

“Feeling a bit hostile, are we, Georgie? None of that in this house. Mum will have your head, I reckon.”

Fred laughed to himself as he slid into his bed and propped himself up on his pillows. He gazed at the ceiling and then at his half unpacked trunk in the corner of the room. He waited for the younger twin across the room to speak.

“Why the bloody hell didn’t you tell me?”

“I reckon because I get a right kick out of seeing you get all high strung and edgy at the mere sight of her, mate.”

George scoffed. “I could’ve used a bit more preparation, you know.”

“Mhmm.”

“She was perfect -- with that ribbon and those overalls and everything. She smelled like strawberries, Fred. Strawberries. And there I was, disgusting from your bloody Quidditch match. I’ve probably scared her off.”

Fred wanted to tell his brother how dramatic he was being, but instead, he snorted this time and threw his pillow directly at George, who groaned beneath it when it landed on his face.

“Think this is funny, do you?”

“Yeah, I do, actually.”

And George tried to hold back his laughter when Fred started on again, he really did, but he had to admit -- it was kind of funny.

He was happy. Over the bloody moon, actually. You were here, weren’t you? And you both had an entire month to do whatever you pleased. He stared through the darkness in his room, wide-eyed, the prospect of the rest of the holiday laid out in front of him like a map. He could show you the village, he could show you where he and Fred used to play as kids, his favorite shops! He could take you across the hills outside the Burrow and you two could spend the day outside under the summer sun and maybe, just maybe, his heart willing, he’d tell you. He’d tell you how his heart had skipped a beat at the sight of you in your dress at the ball. How the butterflies had danced around his stomach the entire night he spent twirling you. How he’d kept on joking just to hear you laugh. How he’d nearly short-circuited at the feeling of your lips on his cheek, just barely -- so close to his own. How he didn’t sleep that night, because all he could think about was you. Beautiful, perfect, golden -- ever-the-innocent. Ever-the-wonder.

Maybe he’d find a way to pluck up the courage. And maybe, just maybe, he thought, you’d tell him you couldn’t stop thinking about him either.

________________

“That’s where Fred and I got our love of pranks,”

George pointed to a shop in the middle of the village. It was bright and vibrant and inviting. He watched as your eyes lit up at the sight of it. You were breathless. “How old were you when you first went there?”

“Four or five, maybe?”

It was overcast today, a bit cloudy, but it wasn’t going to stop George from bringing you into the village -- especially since he was finally alone with you. He’d finally lost his family in the crowd, thank Merlin. It was a bit cool, too, and George watched as you pulled your purple cardigan tighter around you. He reached out and touched your shoulder.

“And that there,” he pointed to a small little shop off the beaten path -- quiet and gray, a bit lonely -- “that’s mum’s favorite tea shop.”

“I’m so happy you took me here, George.”

“Are you?”

“Yes!” you squealed excitedly. You pulled a bit on his shirt and stopped short in the middle of the crowded street. “I love this, all of it. Wish I’d grown up here. Wish I’d known you when we were younger.”

George felt his insides twist into a very tight knot at the thought.

“Which reminds me,” your eyes brightened as you clapped your hands together. “Your mum promised me tonight she’d show me your baby photos!”

Yep, the knot had quickly tightened even more and shot straight into his throat. He didn’t need to be embarrassed in his own home. “Erm -- dunno if that’s such a good idea.”

“Come on -- I want to see how cute you were!”

He grinned a bit and watched as horror took over your face.

“Not--not that you’re not cute now. Not that I’m looking at you that way! I mean, you are cute, Georgie -- I mean -- I just --” you sighed dramatically. George watched as your cheeks went pink. “I just want to see you as a kid,”

He couldn’t stop laughing. How much more adorable could you get? How much more beautiful? he thought. His musings must’ve called out a signal to the universe, because a very large storm cloud appeared in the sky directly over the tiny little village and opened up almost immediately.

Before you knew it, you were both soaked from head to toe. “Come on!” he yelled over the shouts of the crowd and grabbed your hand. But you pulled him back and stayed put. Your hair was now separated in fat, wet strands -- half of it plastered to the sides of your face. Your cardigan was soaked. Your shoes muddy. Your makeup streaky. And yet, as you danced around and splashed in the puddles, you were still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his entire life.

The rain had stopped almost as quickly as it had started, and George noticed you were the only two in the middle of the street now. Surely, everyone else had run inside to escape the impactful -- albeit quick -- rainstorm. You jumped dramatically in the puddle in front of him, splashing the bottoms of his jeans and his shoes, and he said to you, warmth overtaking him despite his cold, rain soaked clothes, “You’re a wonder, you are. Like a little kid.”

Normally a comment like that would bother you. A little kid? You? How rude! You were perfectly capable of acting like an adult, thank you very much. But the way George said it, the way the words so effortlessly escaped from his lips -- it was more of a compliment than anything else. You wondered if, maybe, possibly, somehow, he’d love you in spite of it. No, no, because of it. Your innocence. “Why? You giggled, reaching out and touching his arm. You watched as the raindrops fell from his eyelashes every time he blinked. “Because I like to splash in puddles, Georgie?”

“Yes,” he replied breathlessly and pushed a piece of hair behind your ear, “because you like to splash in puddles.”

This is the moment, he thought. Your eyes were softer than they ever had been. He was almost certain he could hear the pounding of your heart. Perhaps it was his. Either way, there was something different about you now -- something different about the look in your eye, as soon as he’d reached out to touch you. Fondness. He was going to tell you, in the middle of this desolate street, underneath the overcast sky, just how overwhelming his feelings have been, ever since that day. Ever since you noticed him. Ever since he’d made you laugh, that time, in Charms. How he’d wanted to make you laugh ever since. How he wanted to make you smile the largest of smiles. I’m the one who’s been sending you those gifts. It’s me. I’ve loved you since the day I met you. The words were on the tip of his tongue --

“Oi! What’re you two doing out here?”

George grimaced at the sound of Ron’s voice; bloody hell, they’d found you. Easy, now, since the crowd had dispersed. George relished the thought of pulling you into an empty store to escape his family yet again, but it was too late. They’d noticed you. Good Godric, how much longer was he going to hold this in? It’s not very often feelings of bravery about you overtake him --

“Been playing in the rain again, Y/N, haven’t you?”

“Perhaps I was, Freddie. Something you ought to try sometime, I reckon.”

“Let’s get home!” Molly called to you all. She tutted at the sight of your soaked clothes and wrapped her shawl around your shoulders. “Oh, dear -- come, then, the Burrow awaits. I’ve got nice bowls of soup to warm you all up.”

George just stood where he was as Hermione and Ginny tugged you along to head back to the Burrow, staring at the spot you had been in front of him -- moon-eyed and shivering from the rain. Soft and close to him. Just inches away.

He felt an arm drape across his shoulder. “I can see why you fancy her so much, son.”

Arthur pulled George along, a few feet behind the rest of the crowd. George was moving forward, but wasn’t sure how. He couldn’t feel his legs or his feet. “W-what? Dad, I dunno what you’re on about.”

“Always have been a right awful liar, you have!” Arthur’s haughty laughter echoed through the street, now filling with people. “It’s why I was always able to catch you and Fred when you were younger -- you wear your heart right here!” he pointed to George’s sleeve.

“Dad,” George said through gritted teeth, both embarrassed and relieved that someone, anyone, other than Fred knew of his feelings. He swallowed his nerves and just went for it. “Nobody’s told her, have they?”

“And revealed the very best of you? No, son, I reckon your mother would have their heads.” Arthur replied. George pulled at his red hair, a carbon copy of his father’s when he was George’s age.

And suddenly, George felt a bolt of confidence race through his veins. “I was going to tell her. Right before you lot showed up. How I feel, I mean. You reckon I should? Or would I look like a prat?”

George had never really fancied discussing girls with his father -- or with anyone, for that matter, except for Fred. He’d always felt awkward about it. Being open. Being vulnerable. Letting people into his heart. But now, standing here with his father, watching the girl he’s loved for so many years -- the girl he hoped, one day, would become his wife -- he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could open his heart a bit more.

Arthur laughed again and squeezed George’s shoulder. “Not a prat, son. A brave man. You tell her when you’re ready. We’ll all be waiting.”

George, stunned, turned to look at his dad now, wide-eyed and confused. “What do you mean ‘we’ll all be waiting’?”

“Well we all love her, don’t we?” Arthur prodded on. The Burrow was in view now. George watched as you and Ginny began to do cartwheels across the hills, Ron and Fred and Hermione and Harry laughing at it all. He felt a smile lift his cheeks. Arthur continued, “Your mum adores her, you know, as does everyone else.” You turned around and raised a hand to them both before going into another cartwheel, landing in the wet grass, earning yourself laughs from your friends. You -- not poised in the slightest, but still the cutest thing he’d ever seen -- golden against the now cotton candy colored sky, and him -- desperately in love, heart on his sleeve, his feelings nearly pouring out of him. Without a shred of doubt -- he knew what being in love meant. This was being in love. George couldn’t help but laugh at his father’s next words: “And son, did you know? She knows all about these Muggle contraptions! Hope you don’t mind, but, she’s promised to tell me all about some of them after supper. Merlin’s beard!”

tag list: @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @waschbiber @dreamer821 @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @harrysweasleys @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @geeksareunique @insearchofnewdreams @notstandingstill-imlyinginwait @lumos-barnes @thatfuckingliardavidtennant @slytherinqween @xinyourdreamsx @skiving-snackboxess @wildfire-whizbangs @dwarfwizard-from-panem @diary-of-an-onliner @answer-the-sirens@woakiees @black-widow-fangirl @theheirofnightandday @summerstardust @whysoseriouspadfoot @chocok22 @myhopesareanchoredinyou @siriusblackisme @illusivedaydreamer @zeeneee @writingwitchly @wolfpotter12 @obsessedwithrandomthings @carolinesbookworld @shadowsinger11 @pit-and-the-pen @summer-writes @peachesandpinks @gweaslvy @alpinewinchester @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole

#george weasley #fred weasley #fred and george weasley #weasley twins #george weasley x reader #george weasley reader insert #george weasley imagine #weasley twins imagine #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fanfiction #hp imagines #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #ginny weasley #molly weasley #arthur weasley #ron weasley

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qjhughes · 4 years

Note

Could you write something with Harry based off of Mine by Taylor Swift? Thank You Babes!

Mine

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 2,163

Summary: Harry’s the best thing that’s ever been yours.

Warning(s): Mentions of divorce, mom being unsupportive, some arguing, fluffiness, Harry being a literally perfect boyfriend, I think that’s it

A/N: I’ve never done a piece based on a song, so I hope it’s good. I don’t know how I feel about it but I hope everyone enjoys it.

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You were in college, working part-time, waiting tables Left a small town, never looked back

He had just been a small town boy, working in a bakery to make some extra money. He’d sing in his free time, not really thinking anything of it.

He came home one day to his mom telling him that he had an audition for the biggest singing competition show in the UK.

He didn’t know going in that it would get him out of his town, propelling him to stardom after the show, sending him on tours around the world with the boys that would be his brothers for years to come.

I was a flight risk, with a fear of fallin' Wondering why we bother with love, if it never lasts

You grew up in a home where love wasn’t all that present. Your parents divorced when you were younger, neither of them remarrying. You were taught that the most unreliable thing in life was love. It was something that was unstable. Something that fell apart way too often for it to be relied upon.

I say, "Can you believe it?" As we're lyin' on the couch

As you’re laying on the couch, your head in Harry’s lap, you look up at him and ask, “I can’t believe we made it here, can you?”

He looks at you for a moment before responding, making sure that his thoughts are thoroughly put together before speaking. “Yeah, I can. I saw you and knew that you’d be my forever.”

The moment, I can see it Yes, yes, I can see it now

You smile up at him, thinking that maybe your mom was wrong to an extent. Yeah, love was unreliable, but Harry wasn’t. Harry was a constant that you were glad to say you had in your life. One that you hoped would be there forever.

He was what made love worth it, what made everything about the uncertainty worth the risk.

Do you remember, we were sittin', there by the water? You put your arm around me for the first time

Your mind drifts back to the first time that he ever took you out, you had gone to a cafe, had a nice dinner (which he refused to let you pay for), and then went to sit down by the lake in your small town.

You remember thinking to yourself that the whole thing was insane. He was in a world famous boy band and you were a nobody. The only reason that he was even in your hometown was because he was there for a tour stop.

You had only agreed to go out with him because you thought you’d never see him again, never have to be dragged into the hectic lifestyle that comes along with being around Harry Styles.

Oh, were you wrong.

You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter You are the best thing, that's ever been mine

Ever since your dad had left, you had sworn that you were never going to leave your home, stay close to your mom so that you could take care of her if she ever needed it.

One date with Harry changed your whole outlook on that. Made you realize that there were bigger things than that.

And one conversation with your mom let you know that she had more than enough saved to take care of herself, and that if you really wanted to go be on your own, then she would fully support you.

Of course, at the time you left out one very important detail. You didn’t tell her that you wanted to go out and be with Harry, not leave to be on your own. But you didn’t think she needed to know that. She would have told you to stay, told you that he wasn’t trustworthy, that he would break your heart just like your dad had done to her. And honestly, you didn’t want to hear the speech again.

So, you packed your bags and you went on tour with him when he asked if you wanted to come. You made the split decision to be with him no matter what, because he was the best thing that had ever happened to you, and you were lucky to get to call him yours, so you weren’t going to let him go that easily.

Flash forward, and we're takin' on the world together And there's a drawer of my things at your place

The first time that you had been able to stay in one place for more than a few days came around six months after you had left. The boys were allowed to go home for a couple weeks, chill out, record some new music while staying put.

You hadn't unpacked your stuff since the day that you took it from your mom’s house, so when Harry had offered to let you use the washer and dryer that was now yours as well, you jumped at the opportunity.

When you came back into the room that you could now call yours, he had cleared out half of the drawers and half of the closet so that you could put your stuff up where you needed.

In that moment, you realized that this was real. That he was yours and you were his.

You learn my secrets and you figure out why I'm guarded You say we'll never make my parents' mistakes

He found out why you were so hesitant to leave with him a week or so into being home, when he had asked about when you wanted to see your parents and you had avoided the question, tears automatically popping up in your eyes.

Their divorce wasn’t something you liked to think about. Your dad wasn’t someone you ever talked to, much less talked about (unless it was with your mom), and you were still guilt ridden from not telling your mom about Harry.

He had wrapped you up in his arms, letting you cry until you were ready to talk about it, telling him everything.

He holds you close the entire time, letting you ramble as he soaks up everything that you say.

He then walks you to bed, pulling you in with him and holding you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead and whispering, “We won’t end up like them. We won’t repeat their mistakes. I promise you, love, we’ll be different.”

With that, your body relaxes enough into his so that you can both fall asleep.

And we got bills to pay We got nothin' figured out

There were times in your relationship when there were things that went wrong, obviously. Every relationship has its issues. But yours weren’t like everyone else’s problems. The bills that you had to worry about weren’t electric and water.

You had to pay for hotel bills and plane rides and a bunch of other expenses that come with touring the world with him.

There were times when the two of you would fight over it, you being upset and wanting to just stay home so that he didn’t have to pay for anything. So that you could get a job and help pay for some of the things around the house.

He refused, which ended up just making you feel like you were no help to him. It made you feel like you were a bad girlfriend, making Harry pay for everything when you couldn’t even help him out in the slightest.

He sat down with you, though, explained that you were worth more to him than anything else. He didn’t care if you had a job or not, he was lucky enough to not have to worry about you having a job. He’d rather have you on the road with him, having the time of your life, than having to work a nine to five job that you didn’t even really need.

When it was hard to take Yes, yes This is what I thought about

Sometimes, the thoughts would still bother you, so you’d always think back to that day on the lake, the day that started it all, and suddenly, your mood would be a lot better.

Do you remember, we were sittin' there, by the water? You put your arm around me, for the first time You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter You are the best thing, that's ever been mine

It always was when you thought about the simple things with him.

Do you remember all the city lights on the water? You saw me start to believe, for the first time You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter You are the best thing, that's ever been mine

That night, without even knowing it, Harry had made you believe in love. Had made you believe that maybe love was reliable. That maybe you could depend on him. Maybe you could be happily in love with him.

And I remember that fight, two-thirty a.m. 'Cause everything was slipping right out of our hands I ran out, crying, and you followed me out into the street

The two of you had been in Japan with the band, yet another tour stop on the infinite list. You had started an argument over the fact that you were never at home, even though you’d much rather be with him. Besides, you knew his schedule.

Thinking back on it, you have no clue why you even said anything, you had no problem with being on the road with him. You were just being dramatic. It was late, you were tired, and he was the person that was there for you to take your agitation out on.

Your tiny argument had turned into a screaming match, and it had ended with you telling him you were done.

You had left the hotel, walking in the dead of night in a city you had never been to before, and to top it off, you didn’t even speak the language.

He had followed you though, running right out after you, catching up to you and grabbing your arm. He had spun you around to face him and the look on his face made your heart break into a thousand pieces.

Braced myself for the goodbye, 'Cause that's all I've ever known

He looked upset, so much so that you thought he was going to tell you to come get your stuff and then leave. Tell you he’d get you a plane back to your hometown in the morning.

You were ready for him to pull the plug on you, to tell you that he didn’t love you anymore.

You were prepared for him to prove your mother right.

Then, you took me by surprise You said, "I'll never leave you alone"

He did the exact opposite though, he proved your mother wrong, yet again.

“Come back up, I’m sorry.” He had said, pulling you with him.

He had led you back up to the hotel room, tucking you into bed with him and promising to never leave.

He assured you that night that he loved you, that he never wanted to lose you, and that as soon as the tour was over, he would request a few weeks off.

You let him know that it wasn’t necessary, that you were just overreacting, but he vowed to do so anyway, telling you that he’d rather take a break from touring than lose you forever.

You said, "I remember how we felt, sitting by the water. And every time I look at you, it's like the first time. I fell in love with a careless man's careful daughter. She is the best thing that's ever been mine."

He told you that night before you fell asleep that when things got bad, he thought of the same thing that you did. The same exact memory. Your first ever date. The day that changed his life forever.

You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter You are the best thing, that's ever been mine

You realized that night, that no matter what happened, you’d do anything for him. You’d tour with him until you were gray and old if that’s what made him happy. Because he was what made you happy.

Do you believe it? We're gonna make it now And I can see it

You knew for a fact that you and Harry were going to make it when he stood in front of you, telling you that he’d care for you always, and never, ever let the two of you end up like your parents. You believed him so strongly that you didn’t hesitate to look him in the eyes and say “I do.”

So, now, here you were, your head in his lap, his hand running through your hair, singing you to sleep.

You knew, without a doubt, that as long as you had Harry, you’d be alright.

Permanent Taglist: @spideygirl2003, @jackiehollanderr, @scarletsoldierrr, @thewayilookatbacon, @parker-barnes-af, @lost-in-the-stars03, @kisses-holland, @josiemara, @god-knows-what-am-i-doing, @fanficscuziranout, @akila-stilinski @babebenhardy @write-from-the-heart, @slytherinambitious, @miraclesoflove @tomshufflepuff, @quaksonhehe, @a-different-brand-of-beans

Harry Styles Taglist: @alwayshave-faith, @hufflepuff-always-and-forever, @sucker-09 @just-chillin-out-in-me-box, @macksmedicine, @wendaiii, @theresthingsthatwellneverknow,

#Zoey's Blurbs #anon #zoey answers #Harry Styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #2020

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breakingsomething · 4 years

Text

killer

is the title a pun? i don’t know, you tell me!

basic summary: after living with anti for nearly two months, dapper should be able to tell when a day’s about to go south.

trigger warnings: descriptions of blood, murder, panic attack, abuse, vomit

dapper should have known the day would be weird when he awoke to the sound of someone singing.

now, he’d only been with anti for about two months, but he knew even now that that was an unusual event. as silently as he could, he pushed himself up and swung his legs off the bed, blinking in the early morning light glowing softly through the expensive looking curtains. dapper wasn’t sure how anti had gotten this house for them, but he was fairly certain it was through illegal means, which was definitely a commonplace thing with anti. dapper rubbed his eyes as he padded to the door, slipping out without letting it creak and stepping into the hall.

the house was still relatively dark. he didn’t have his watch, but he knew it was 6:50 am. he and anti had discovered that he was always somehow aware of the exact time, no matter where he was or if he could even see outside. it was a useful skill, he supposed. but what was anti doing up this early? he yawned quietly as he carefully treaded downstairs, reaching the bottom landing and taking a peek into the kitchen.

yep, it was anti. he was fully dressed, evidently having just been out, and there was a bag of shopping on the table. where he had been shopping at six am, dapper didn’t know, but what he did know was that anti was putting all the stuff in the bag away, and yes, he was singing softly as he did so. dapper stood in the doorway, a wicked grin on his face as he watched.

“to avoid complications, she never kept the same address,” anti sang as he spun around dramatically to pull cans from the bag. “in conversation, she spoke just like a baroness. met a man from china -”

he suddenly looked up and jumped upon seeing dapper in the door, his tone immediately changing. “jesus shit, dapper, how long have you been standing there?” he snapped, accidentally knocking over the bag in his haste. a bunch of food, mostly cans and ready meals, tumbled out and onto the floor.

“long enough,” dapper grinned, and the tips of anti’s ears turned red as he scowled. dapper stepped forwards and silently helped anti pick up the things from the floor, neither one saying anything.

“went shopping,” anti said eventually. he closed the cupboard just a bit harder than he needed to. “the costcutter opened a couple hours earlier than usual, figured i’d get stuff early so we don’t get in trouble.” he rolled up his sleeves absentmindedly, and his bracelets jangled on his arms. “also, we’ve got shit to do today. i may need your body for a bit.”

dapper frowned, before heading to the fridge and grabbing a pen off the whiteboard. anti still wasn’t fluent in bsl, although he’d learned a hell of a lot of it in the couple months he’d been learning. dapper wondered where he’d found the time in amongst all his other various activities. “you haven’t possessed me in three weeks. what are you doing today, then?”

anti made a face. “none of your business.”

dapper rolled his eyes, though he was facing the board and anti couldn’t see. “it’ll be my business when you give me a criminal record doing illegal shit in my body.”

“language,” anti grinned, and dapper deliberately rubbed out the word “shit” and replaced it with “STUFF” in all caps. anti laughed. “better. i’m just gonna go see some people, it’s fine. don’t worry.”

“but you’re still not fluent in sign, how are you -”

“same way we’re communicating now,” anti said before he could finish writing. he leaned against the sink, not noticing the water soaking into the bandages on his arms. “and i do know a lot of it, so -” he made several very vulgar signs that made dapper laugh silently, body shaking exaggeratedly.

“bastard,” dapper signed. then he went back to writing, rubbing off what was already on the board. “anyway, don’t change the subject. what were you singing?”

anti was suddenly very interested in making sure the cans in the cupboard were stacked correctly. “i have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“you were singing!” dapper protested.

anti turned round, walking towards the door. “prove it, bitch,” he signed before disappearing, leaving dapper alone in the kitchen.

“hey, asshole!” he followed him into the living room. “you -”

anti suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled him to the floor.

dapper threw his arm off, confused. “anti, what -”

“shut up,” anti hissed. he sat up and peeked through the window before ducking back down. “fuck, there’s people -”

someone rang the doorbell.

anti and dapper stayed very, very still.

“hey, open up!” called a deep male voice. dapper trembled at the sound of something so unfamiliar. “this is the police, open this door or we will be forced to break it down!”

anti tapped dapper’s shoulder. “let me in,” he signed, and dapper nodded. he was genuinely shaking, his bottom lip quivering.

“anti, what if -” he started, but anti cut him off with a shake of his head. he took dapper’s hands and looked at him questioningly. he paused, listening to the men pounding on the door, and then nodded again.

possession was one aspect of anti that dapper didn’t think he would ever get used to. it was like his consciousness somehow grew smaller, more compressed, like he was a sheet of paper being rolled up and pushed to the back of his head. his whole body just felt numb, because he wasn’t in that part of himself anymore. he was sharing his skin with someone else, and he was being squished, unable to see, barely able to hear, gasping for air. time meant nothing like this, at least not for him. there wasn’t a thing on earth that could reach him as he floated in the black abyss of himself.

when he awoke again, he was on the floor.

he couldn’t move, but he could see. could see the legs of the kitchen table. could see anti on the ground on the other side, eyes closed. could see the red splattered on the floor, could smell the sharp copper in the air.

“dap,” anti mumbled. he was conscious after all. he opened his eyes and glanced over at dapper, moving to try and get up, slipping on the blood soaking the floor. blood soaking the - blood -

dapper’s hands were so red.

fuck, they were so red. like they’d been dipped in paint. if he kept his eyes squeezed shut, he could imagine they had been. imagine he hadn’t just killed someone. fuck, there was so much red. even the light behind his eyes was red. he thought he was going to be sick.

something shook him. “dap. dap. we have to go. have to - i didn’t - we’re gonna get in more trouble if we stay here. i’m sor - we have to go.”

dapper let anti lift him to his feet. if he didn’t open his eyes he could pretend there were no bodies on the floor, no wave of red soaking his chest. fuck, he was going to pass out.

“a,” he signed with one hand, unable to lift his arm fully to sign his full name. “a, a…”

“quick, you can change clothes.” anti pulled dapper’s hoodie over his head, probably realizing he currently lacked the motor control needed to do it himself. “i didn’t mean for this - i was being careful, i thought - fuck, they must have seen me this morning. i’m s - didn’t mean for this to happen, dap, really.”

he’d killed someone. again. more blood on his hands. “thought you were just going to get them to go away,” dapper signed numbly. “you killed them. my hands. you killed them.”

“dapper, i - i don’t know all those signs.” anti was rubbing at dapper’s face with a tissue, looking stressed. “we have to get out of here, go wash your hands, i’ll grab our shit - i wasn’t exactly quiet, someone will be here soon -”

dapper let anti guide him to the bathroom and just stared at the wall, trying to keep his thoughts away. memories were starting to come back; someone screaming, a knife heavy in his hands, a face, a face contorted in horror and fear. dapper’s breath hitched, and his hand flew to his mouth, pressing into his skin.

“ - let’s go, dap, hurry up!” with a jolt, dapper realised anti had been yelling, pulling at his arms frantically. he stumbled to his feet, letting anti clumsily yank him down the hall. “we have to go out the back, i’ve been planning for a while so i know where we’re going, hurry up.”

course he’d been planning this. shit, he was shaking so badly. bile rose in his throat as they raced out the back door, not even bothering to lock it behind them. “come on, put your hood up,” anti said, pulling dapper’s hood up himself. he hadn’t even realized he was wearing a new hoodie, a black one this time. the two of them ran out to the back, through the gate and down the long flight of stairs, dapper stumbling several times on the way down. anti held onto his hand the whole time, never once letting go. “hurry up, dap, come on.”

sirens. fuck, how dapper hated the sounds of sirens. anti slowed as three police cars went by, walking casually like they were just brothers out for a stroll. immediately after they’d passed, anti changed course, heading through a different street. eventually, dapper regained enough awareness to sign one handed. “anti, where are we going?”

“i have a place, ok? all you have to know.” anti kept going, dragging dapper behind him. his legs felt like they were going to give out beneath him. he whistled, trying to pull his hand away.

“anti, slow!”

anti didn’t turn his head to look.

they walked for a full hour, barely stopping. by the time they slowed, dapper was only half conscious, his legs aching and head pounding. he was certain he was going to be sick. “here, in here,” anti murmured, and helped dapper down the steps to a small house. it looked expensive, even more so than the last place. dapper didn’t have the energy to wonder where anti was getting the money for these places, or if he was paying at all.

as if reading his mind, anti mumbled “and don’t bother asking how i’m getting us these places.” he didn’t use keys to get in, just glitched his hand through the door and opened it from the other side. dapper closed his eyes; it freaked him out when anti did that, and he knew it, meaning he did it as often as he could. he heard anti push the door open, and they went inside.

dapper cracked his eyes to look around. it was fairly well furnished, actually, lots of chairs and little tables and cushions and bookshelves - dapper had never been in such a nice place. he couldn’t appreciate it for long, however. the second they stepped over the doorway, dapper doubled over, feeling vomit rise up in his throat.

“shit, dapper, come here -” anti tried, but it was too late. dapper coughed and spluttered as he was sick on the carpet, his chest heaving with the effort. he wiped at his mouth, tears stinging his eyes.

“fuck!” anti swore. dapper flinched, expecting to be hit, to be hurt, hands in front of his face as he waited for a blow. but it never came. instead, anti just yanked him away from the puddle of sick and sat him down on the couch with a loud sigh. “fuck’s sake.” he disappeared, and dapper curled up into a ball, shaking violently. maybe if he kept as still as he could, he would just disappear. maybe he would stop existing entirely. maybe, maybe.

“dap?” this was anti’s voice again, much softer and more controlled. he felt a cold hand on his neck, touching the string tied there, and he jumped. “come on, dap, sit the fuck up. come on.”

when he didn’t move, anti made a noise and slapped the side of his head, although not with intention to hurt him, he thought. more as a warning. “dapper,” anti snapped. “get up.”

he didn’t care. let anti hurt him, he didn’t give a shit.

there was a pause. and then - dapper let out a squeak. anti was lifting him up in his arms, straining with the effort. “fuck, dap, you’re heavy,” he groaned. dapper instinctively wrapped his arms around anti’s shoulders, carefully avoiding his neck, too afraid to let go.

after a minute or so, he was dropped heavily onto what felt like… dapper pressed his hands down. it was indeed a bed, a large one, with many blankets and pillows. he sighed as he let his head fall, suddenly feeling so much more comfortable and relaxed. there was a thwump as anti flopped down beside him, both staring at the ceiling.

after a few minutes, anti spoke. “about the - killing the cops,” anti muttered. “i didn’t mean for that to happen. i tried to play the… the "mute young gentleman living on his own” card, but they didn’t buy it. we look too much alike, i guess, and it’s me they’re after. well, i guess you too. they tried to arrest me, and there was a knife in your jeans pocket - why was there a knife in your jeans pocket, by the way?“

a moment of silence. "self defense,” dapper eventually signed. they were the first words he’d said in over an hour. anti sighed with relief at dapper’s response.

“ok, ok. glad you’re talking again.” he rolled over to face his brother, though dapper didn’t look at him. “i didn’t mean to make you kill them. ok? i - i had - shit, i had stuff planned to do today and everything, fuck.”

dapper tuned to face the other wall, heart racing.

“dap?” he heard anti say. “dapper, look at me.”

dapper closed his eyes and covered his face.

another pause.

“i’m sorry.”

dapper opened his eyes.

anti never apologized for anything.

“i’m sorry, ok? i’m sorry i made you kill them when i promised i wouldn’t kill anything in your body again. i’m sorry i had to drag you all the way out here when you were in a state. i’m sorry…” anti let out a long sigh. “gods, i’m sorry i hurt you, ok? i’m sorry, tá brón orm. tá grá agam duit.”

dapper was absolutely not going to cry. not now. he was not.

he turned round and buried his face in anti’s chest.

“shh, shh, mo chroí. tá tú ceart go leor. tá tú ceart go leor.”

dapper holds on as tightly as he can. he didn’t know all those words - anti had only taught him a little irish - but he clung to the ones he knew. i love you, you’re ok, i love you.

“dapper,” anti murmured, “dapper, listen. i need to tell you something.”

he didn’t think he’d be able to take more bad news. he tapped anti’s shoulder to let him know he was listening anyway.

“ok,” he breathed. dapper felt his chest rise and fall. “dap… what would you think about having a brother?”

dapper blinked and went very still. a brother. he already had a brother. he had anti. and he knew about the creator’s boys. the hero, the magician, the doctor, the gunman. he knew. he knew.

he pulled away from anti’s body so he can see his hands. “new brother?”

anti nodded. “you know how i said i’ve been trying to get the magician? kitten? well, i think… maybe he’s nearly ready. to be with us.” he stroked dapper’s hair out of his face. “what do you think of that?”

dapper felt his face light up. “yes, yes, yes!” he beamed, and anti laughed, pulling him closer to knock their foreheads together. dapper couldn’t believe it - another brother, a whole other person to talk to! another person, just like him! just the thought was wonderful enough. another brother. dapper let his lips turn up at the corners, relaxing.

his joy brought him a brief moment of courage. “anti?” he kept his eyes closed so he wouldn’t see his reaction. “can you sing again?”

anti was quiet for a moment.

“sing - why would you want that?” he laughed. dapper blinked, seeing how anti’s ears had turned red again. “i don't… do that, k, dap? that’s not -”

“please?” dapper’s hands shook. “please sing. i feel sick and bad. please sing.” he wasn’t sure if anti knew all the signs, but by the look on his face, he could see he had gotten the general gist.

“dap-per,” he groaned. “if you want something, i can go try and steal some doughnuts for us to share. there’s good internet here, we can watch a movie.”

dapper shook his head. “tired. please sing?”

anti breathed deeply in through his nose. “what song?”

dapper grinned, shaking his hands out in excitement. anti was clearly trying to keep a smile from his face. “same one as earlier!”

anti rolled over and groaned, throwing his arm over his face. “oh fuck, dap, not that one,” he giggled, though dapper could see him relenting.

“yes, that one!” dapper swatted at his arm. “why were you singing it if it’s so embarrassing?”

anti flipped him off. “bastard. you’re the only person i’d ever do this for, deartháir. and only because i broke my promise.” he rolled back round and flicked dapper’s nose. “don’t get used to this.”

dapper smiled and raised an eyebrow, waiting. the room was very silent for a moment.

“she keeps her moet et chandon in her pretty cabinet,” anti sang, so softly dapper almost had to strain to hear. “"let them eat cake,” she says, just like marie antoinette…"

dapper closed his eyes and just listened, tracing his fingers along the bandages on anti’s arms. anti had a nice voice when he wasn’t glitching or being dramatic. that was another surprise. dapper was learning many new things about anti with every day.

it was going to be strange to have a new person with them. but the thought excited him. a brand new brother. someone different to talk to. he couldn’t wait.

it wasn’t long before he was drifting off to sleep.

#jacksepticeye #boop writes #jameson jackson #antisepticeye #arc one: before the storm

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itsclydebitches · 5 years

Note

Hey Clyde! Love your reviews on RWBY. My question is about Ozpin. If he survived fighting Cinder, would the events of volume 4-6 still happen? I believe the only reason team RWBYJNR treated Ozpin that way was because he was with Oscar who basically looked like a kid to them. However, if he was still in his adult body, would they have been more respectful?

Hi, anon! Thank you! I’m actually super glad you asked this. I’ve touched on how Oscar’s age and looks have impacted how others perceive Ozpin a bit in other asks, but haven’t had the chance to compose a substantial meta about it. I will attempt to fix that here!

FYI, it’ll get decently image heavy from here on out.

First, as a general response to the question of whether the events of Volumes 4-6 would have changed if Ozpin had survived: absolutely. If only because Ozpin as a figurehead would have still been around to lead both his inner circle and function as a symbol of strength for the rest of the world. Unless he was completely incapacitated from the fight or something (like in a coma), the expectation is that Ozpin would have begun rebuilding his school. Glynda wouldn’t have been left alone to try and deal with a frozen Wyvern attracting grimm. Ironwood wouldn’t have been left to figure out where to go from here. Qrow wouldn’t have been sent on a mission to return Ozpin’s cane. The whole world (including Atlas) may have been less likely to panic with Ozpin there to provide perspective and support. Lionheart presumably would have been less inclined to betray him, at least so soon and so overtly. An Ozpin who will reincarnate at some unknown point is a future Lionheart problem, and therefore far less intimidating. An Ozpin who still lives and commands his inner circle is way more of a threat and Lionheart would be more likely to get caught. Remember that even Salem was surprised by how quickly Ozpin reincarnated and dove back into the game—all the baddies were banking on more time. So yes, a ton would have changed. The group’s focus is now more along the lines of, “So is Ozpin going to fix things and can we go back to school?” and less, “Ozpin is dead as a door nail and no one is able to fix things for us. Might as well go hunt Cinder ourselves.”

But onto the meat of the ask. Is the group treating Ozpin like they are at least partly because he’s in the body of a kid? That’s also a resounding ‘yes.’ Human beings, including the humans and the faunus that we write in fiction, are incredibly judgmental (for better and for worse) based on how someone else looks. If you’re able to see then you tend to prioritize that information over other aspects of a person. We create markers that we then learn and assume mean something when, much of the time, they don’t. Or, to put it another way, we create stereotypes. We can think about this in terms of gender presentation: a masculine-looking person giving orders is seen as the “boss” whereas a feminine-looking person giving orders is seen as a “bitch.” We can complicate that with race: we’re more likely to view a white woman giving orders as “assertive” when compared to a black man giving orders. That’s “aggressive.” From giving a girl long blonde hair when you want to cue people into the fact that she’s (supposedly) dumb, to making a man skinny when you want him to seem vulnerable, our media is chock-full of those markers, subtly (and sometimes not so subtly) encouraging us to read characters in particular ways. There’s a reason that Yang, the go-getter, is blonde whereas Blake, the bookworm, has black hair. There’s a reason that Cardin wasn’t designed as a twig and Jaune is a couple inches shorter than him. There’s even a reason why the sap the group collects is red rather than, say, yellow, orange, blue—literally any other color. Only red sap makes it look like Cardin is covered in blood when he attacks Jaune, thus increasing how much we read him as a threat. The characters’ designs matter.

What does all that have to do with Ozpin? Well, at the start of the series his markers all point to authority and wisdom. He’s a white man, for one. He dresses in a formal suit. There are nods towards his age (a cane, white hair) that tell us, despite his baby face, that he’s someone who has been around a while and thus has a great deal of experience to draw on. He’s also, significantly, tall. Take a look at how his talks with Ruby read visually.

Ruby is incredibly small compared to Ozpin. He towers above her and she’s constantly in a position of looking up to him, mirroring the ways in which she figuratively looks up to him for advice. Her mannerisms are also younger and don’t carry much confidence. Crossing her arms and sulking. Wringing her hands while asking if she’s made a mistake. The way Ruby moves contrasts Ozpin’s own very still, very composed mannerisms. Body language and facial expression is one of the primary ways that we communicate and the slightest change can carry a world of meaning. For example, compare these two shots of Yang from Volume 1 and Volume 6:

On the surface they appear quite similar, but provided there isn’t something impacting how we read these moments (such as some people with autism), we learn that these poses mean two very different things. Two hands on your waist is a relaxed pose; one hand on your waist is an arrogant pose. At least when combined with an angry expression. One arm, the placement of her eyebrows, and suddenly Yang’s attitude towards Ozpin has radically changed. We went from casual respect to defiance, and most viewers wouldn’t need to know anything else about RWBY’s story to read that here. Her body language alone tells the story.

Ozpin’s body language with Ruby then cues the viewer into the fact that he (supposedly) has the answers here, simply by virtue of him exuding a confidence that Ruby doesn’t possess yet. Who do you look to in a bad situation? The person screaming and running around in panic? Or the person who calmly announces that they can help, getting everyone else to calm down by keeping calm themselves? This sort of characterization is partly why the fandom grew suspicious of Ozpin early on. It’s not simply that he (on the surface) is modeled after the shady authority figure trope, but that we’ve learned from real life experience that a person’s ability to keep calm and speak eloquently doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re right. Sounding authoritative is a skill and it’s why the likes of cult leaders and dictators are so dangerous. If you just sound and look like you know what you’re doing, people have a tendency to believe you. And if you’re inclined towards critical thinking, you might be wary of the person whose demeanor is a little too polished.

Even when Ozpin is being playful he maintains a certain level of dignity. His clothes, his physical looks, and the controlled movement of the mug—he’s not jumping around like Nora might—all remind us that Ozpin is the headmaster here and thus, though he’s making silly jokes about popcorn right now, he deserves a certain amount of respect. Even his posture speaks volumes, one arm still tucked behind his back and shoulders ramrod straight. It’s a posture that speaks of training and discipline. There’s a reason that the general (Ironwood) is always animated as standing tall with hands neatly folded and the presumably less dependable drunk (Qrow) is animated with a constantly hunched posture. How Ozpin stands is a quick and easy way to tell the viewer, “This guy is in charge. He’s powerful. He’s wise. You can rely on him.”

All of this changes dramatically once Ozpin is thrown into Oscar’s body. Moving chronologically, it’s significant that the group is not introduced to this new Ozpin as a dignified individual.

This is what we get later. Note the crossed legs, still good posture, even the ‘adult’ way he holds a mug. In contrast, someone younger and more childish in terms of their personality, like Ruby, tends to hold a drink with two hands and chucks it all back in a manner that would never fly at a dinner party.

Rather than a dignified Ozpin knocking at the door, the group first encounters Oscar, someone who, like Volume 1 Ruby, can be incredibly timid and lacks in self-confidence. This isn’t the body language of a leader arriving to provide you with all the answers.

Oscar’s slouched posture, downward gaze, wringing hands, and fearful expression all paint him as the weak one here. Made worse by the fact that he asks to see Ruby and ignites (an entirely understandable) suspicion in the group. Their first interaction is characterized by perceiving him as both a potential threat, but also one they can easily handle. We don’t like that he’s asking about Ruby, but we can take him in a fight no problem.

And yes, this first impression makes a difference. Knowing something about someone on an intellectual level usually doesn’t trump the emotional response we have to the physical markers we’re faced with. As a non-RWBY example, let’s say you were introduced to these two characters.

Ignoring for a moment that we’re comparing a villain and a hero, let’s say for the sake of argument that you’re told—and are provided proof—that each of these characters are morally sound, powerful adults and you should afford them with the respect they deserve. Being told that simply can’t outweigh what we see. Who are you more likely to respect? The woman who looks like a literal child named Baby Doll in a cutesy outfit, or the very old looking man in badass robes, literally named the Ancient One? All the, “But I am an adult” in the world isn’t going to convince people to read, and therefore respond to, Baby Doll in the same way they would the Ancient One.

That’s the situation Ozpin is in now. He’s told the group that he’s Ozpin, he’s managed to prove it, but there’s always going to be a part of Ruby and the gang that doesn’t quite believe it. Not in Jaune’s literal sense of, ‘He could be lying about who he is,’ but just in a more instinctual, ‘He says he’s our headmaster, but all I see is a fourteen year old kid.’ What you see makes it really easy to ignore what you know, particularly when those two things contrast. Those markers Oscar brings to this new version of Ozpin are simply too influential and yes, that opens the door for the group to treat him with far less respect than they would in his adult form. We see it right from the start when, despite having been told that this is also Ozpin, the group coos over him in an overbearing, disrespectful manner.

This continues even after Ozpin has taken control and is doing everything he can (those dignity markers) to regain some level of trust and respect. Even while seated and attempting to command the room as Headmaster Ozpin, Nora nevertheless undermines that with “Cute little boy Ozpin!” She has chosen to emphasize his looks over his status and notably no one listens when he says, “Please don’t call me that.”

Ozpin has, in this moment, literally been labeled as a child. A “boy.” Though we can’t be sure about what age all his hosts were when Ozpin arrived, based on Jinn’s vision it doesn’t look as if reincarnating into teenagers is common. This may even be the first time.

Any of these past reincarnations would have been able to command more authority, simply because they’re adult men not dressed in dirty farm clothes. If this Ozpin had shown up in Haven,

we would have gotten a very different volume. Age matters. How we perceive age matters. We saw this right in RWBY’s second episode wherein Weiss calls Ruby out on attending Beacon.

It’s Ruby’s looks and Ruby’s looks alone that encourage Weiss to come to the conclusion, ‘You shouldn’t be here.’ The same thing has now happened to Ozpin. You look younger than us and are inhabiting a body that physically couldn’t beat us in a fight? You shouldn’t be here. You definitely shouldn’t be giving us orders.

The group had control of Ozpin’s safe house. They were poised to interrogate him for showing up at it unannounced. Now they emphasize Oscar’s age and characteristics over his, which is ironically the only time that they emphasize Oscar’s individuality over Ozpin’s. In short, they’ve created an environment where a part of them truly believes that they’re older and more knowledgeable simply because of how Ozpin now looks, even though technically they know this isn’t true. It’s a new dynamic and with that comes the confidence to treat him like the fourteen year old stranger he “is”. I don’t believe for a moment that Yang would have ignored Ozpin’s direct questions, shot out irrational accusations, and then demanded a promise from him if he still looked the way he did at Beacon. Especially as someone who came to Haven later and therefore missed the initial proof, Yang simply doesn’t read Ozpin as Ozpin. We’ve seen how other characters interact with him from a student-teacher dynamic and it’s far more respectful.

As this shot demonstrates, there’s also that issue of Ozpin’s size. Where as a headmaster Ozpin commanded authority by being taller than almost everyone else around him, Ozpin as Oscar immediately loses authority by being the smallest in the room. As I mentioned with Jaune and Cardin, size is an easy way to emphasize vulnerability. We quite literally couldn’t have gotten this scene if Ozpin was still 6'6" and looking twice Jaune’s age.

In this scene Jaune honestly thinks this might be Ozpin. He’s accusing him of lying again, of claiming to leave when really he’s spying on them, or just pretending to be this kid called ‘Oscar,’ whatever. The point is that Jaune is working under the assumption that he’s interacting with his headmaster, yet that knowledge obviously doesn’t give him pause. Because Ozpin’s new look outweighs everything else Jaune knows about him. He’s angry and now suddenly Ozpin isn’t an intimidating huntsmen capable of defending himself, Ozpin is a teeny-tiny kid with no training. Jaune becomes Cardin through the realization of, “Oh. If I’m bigger and more powerful than this person, I can do whatever I want to them.”

Ozpin’s size is an ongoing reminder that, despite possessing his own skill as well as magic, he’s in a vulnerable position. He needs to stand on the furniture in order to recreate his students literally and figuratively looking up to him, but now it just reads as a joke.

This isn’t the first time RWBY has used size this way. Cordovin is an excellent example of how a small, non-dignified looking person is unable to maintain authority in the way someone with another appearance might. Her white hair just makes her look old rather than wise and her short stature is so extreme that it invites humor. It’s not just that Cordovin is a racist, or that her guards act like Tweedledum and Tweedledee. Her appearance immediately gave the group another excuse for why they shouldn’t listen to her. Look at this tiny old woman trying to tell us what to do. Yeah right, lady. We could probably punt you into the sun so step aside.

This is a look that makes guards release prisoners in three seconds flat.

This is a look that encourages laughter and, by extension, a lack of respect.

The extreme camera angle in order to make Cordovin look ‘imposing.’ The fact that she looks like a literal child next to Weiss… none of it encourages the group, or the audience, to take her seriously. Rooster Teeth made a conscious decision when they decided to animate Volume 6′s “bad guy” as an old woman with sagging breasts and an extremely small stature.

The only time when someone that small is re-characterized as authoritative is when they’re standing up against unimaginable odds.

Ignoring that this scene in reality is Ruby refusing to take responsibility for the crimes she is currently committing, what Rooster Teen wants this shot to do is function as an example of extreme heroism. That’s accomplished by taking our second smallest character and situating her in front of a larger-than-life mech. Ruby’s refusal to back down in the face of something so much bigger than her is (again) supposed to be inspiring. She’s standing up to Cordovin’s “bullying” in a way Oscar was unable to do with his own mech: a bigger and more threatening Jaune.

(I really cannot express how awful Volume Six was wow).

All of which brings me to my final point. Namely that, by virtue of his age and size, Ozpin as Oscar will always look ridiculous when attempting to make use of his former markers. Using a cane?

Headmaster Ozpin’s age and height makes it look distinguished. Ozpin at Oscar’s age and height makes it look silly. What’s the fourteen year old doing with a cane nearly as tall as he is? (Acknowledging that this is an ableist assumption. Some fourteen year olds do need canes, but most viewers are going to question this in a way they never would with the white-haired adult). What’s the kid doing with such a fancy looking cane when he’s literally covered in dirt, bandages, rags, and badly mended clothes? That’s a silly contrast.

Headmaster Ozpin fighting? Totally badass. One of the shortest and yet most talked about fights in the show.

Ozpin as Oscar fighting? Still badass… if you’re willing to work for it a bit more. But really, the kid swinging a cane around just will never have the same feel as a grown man who looked like Ozpin did.

Ozpin himself is a dignified person, but anytime he adopts those mannerisms now he looks silly at best, arrogant at worst.

I think his look is largely why so many fans read the snow scene as him talking down to the group. He no more talked down to them here then he did when he conversed with Ruby, or Pyrrha, or the team while heading off to Mountain Glenn. The only difference is that the previous Ozpin commanded all that authority, so his warnings and criticisms held weight. This Ozpin not only doesn’t look the part of an authority figure, half his time is spent being Oscar, someone who defers to and scurries around the rest of the group. So when Ozpin tries to take charge here, everyone is far less willing to listen. People are inclined to read him as arrogant, patronizing, talking down to others, etc. because it looks like a small child giving orders to a more older, more powerful team. Even though it’s not.

It’s the combination of everything above that leads to moments like this. Where Ozpin is smaller, more vulnerable, looks too young, too naive, where the group towers over him for once and hurts him both physically and emotionally because now they can.

Tl;dr: Yeah. Oscar’s looks and Oscar’s personality changed things irrevocably. If Ozpin had still looked like Ozpin the group wouldn’t feel half as entitled to this behavior and gaining their respect—from ‘Please don’t address me like that’ to ‘Please understand why I kept secrets’—would be far, far easier.

#Anonymous #rwby #ozpin #mymetas

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forever-rogue · 5 years

Text

Unintended Consequences - Part 8

Summary: Y/N and Ben had been best friends since the day six year old Y/N dropped her ice cream in front of Ben and he had offered her his. The rest is history. Until Ben went to Hollywood and disappeared for five years, before suddenly waltzing back into Y/N’s life with one simple request.

A/N: Y’all were very split as to whether you were Team Ben or Team Joe. I’m curious to see it after this chapter as well… You guys know I like drama...Anyways, thanks for reading and enjoy! Taglists are open! xx

PS - big kudos if you can spot all my references that I’ve sprinkled in :)

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: language, a lil sadness, some steamy moments

MASTERLIST

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

“I’m starting to think that the only mistake was coming back to you, Y/N.”

The words washed over her like a cold waves crashing against a rocky hillside; cold, jagged, and searing.

Her chest started to rise and fall rapidly in anger. She spotted the glass lampshade near the door and thought about chucking it at him, at least that way he could physically feel the pain his words had inflicted upon her. But she stayed her hand, her body instead trembling with anger.

“Then why did you come back, Ben?” she shouted at him, not ready to let him have the last word. She followed him out of the room as he tried to retreat to his own bedroom. He stood in the doorway, shoulders tense but he refused to turn around. Crossing her arms over her chest, she was ready to demand an answer, unwilling to back down, “why did you come back? After five years…you could have just stayed away. You managed to for so long, why now?”

“I already told you,” his voice was lower than it normally was, a sense of both annoyance and anger. He knew it was probably wrong of him to be this angry still, but he was fuming; he felt like he had been used in the worst way possible.

“You gave me a bullshit answer,” her voice shook lightly as she thought back to the day he had unceremonious return. If she had known then but she knew now she would have just ignored him. But she had to be too soft hearted, so desperate to have a piece of her past back, “is that what you’re going to be sticking with?”

“Yes,” he answered simply, turning around and facing her, harsh glint to his normally soft sage eyes, “I needed you for a reason. You’re fulfilling that reason. And once it’s done, it’s done. If I had known you’d be so cold and bitchy this whole time, trust me, I would have stayed far away.”

“Oh yeah, it’s not like I have a reason to be mad,” she huffed, tired of arguing about the same thing over and over. If he wasn’t understanding by now, she feared they he might never get it. It was a constant game of going in circles and never reaching a resolution.

“I’ve apologized-”

“Words are wind,” she shouted at him, unable to control her feelings any longer. She probably sounded like something akin to a banshee, but she didn’t care anymore, “words didn’t help when I struggling through life while you off doing God knows what!”

“You think it was easy for me? It wasn’t exactly always a fun journey for me either,” he countered slamming his fist loudly against the wall. She knew it would be bruised later on, and was a little surprised that the wall wasn’t damaged from the hard slam. The neighbors across the hall could have probably heard their little fight.

“I never once said that!” she threw her hands up in exasperation, “all I’ve been trying to get you to see it that you could have been there. You should. Like you always promised. Or have you forgotten that too?”

“Y/N-”

“No, I’m not going to be quiet,” she raised a finger and pointed it squarely at his chest, almost jabbing his heated skin, “do you remember that day? We were seven years old. Playing with our Legos, and I asked you if we were always going to be friends. You promised me. You said we’d even get married and get a dog.”

“You’re hanging onto memories from almost two decades ago. Let them go,” he furrowed his brow as her face fell. She could have broken down and cried right then and there, the cruel reality of his words crashing down, and hard, on her ears. Y/N inhaled sharply, biting on the inside of her cheek to keep from crying, “we were just children.”

“See that’s what happened,” she said quietly, “I didn’t forget who I was. Or who we were. But you did…you never would have forgotten who you were.”

“Who we were…exactly, in the past,” Ben remained steadfast in his determination to be right. He knew he was being standoffish but he was beyond caring, he wanted her to hurt like she had hurt him by claiming what they had done was a mistake. Petty yes, but in that moment it was extremely satisfying.

“People don’t change that much,” it felt like he had sunk a dagger into her heart and was twisting it slowly, progressing with each word he spewed out, “I’m still that same person. Obviously, I came back to you, even most people would have run for the hills.”

“That’s a lie,” his nostrils flared in anger. She was staring to hit a nerve; he was always sensitive about how people perceived him. He’d never quite adopted that bravado and swagger he exuded outwardly into his heart, “people would love to be in your position and you know that.”

"Until they met the real you. Your outward appearance is wonderful, even I’m not going to deny that, but once they get to your heart, it’s a whole different story,” a single tear dripped down her face and she didn’t bother to wipe it away, “there’s no way for me to get you to see how much you hurt me. and honestly I’m done trying. Otherwise this will just keep going on and on, and we’ll hate each other even more.”

“I don’t hate you-”

“You could have fooled me,” she almost laughed at the nerve he was displayed. He shook his head silently in frustration

“I just hate that this what we’ve become,” he decided to end the conversation then and there, turning to go back into his room, “I guess things will never be the same.”

“That was your decision,” she shrugged, “not mine. I am sorry for what happened last night. I’ll take my share of the blame for that. It wasn’t fair to you and I should have stopped it. I suppose I even am sorry about kissing Joe…not sorry, but I should have told you I liked him. But you’ve got to take your share of the blame too.”

“There is no blame for me to take,” he scoffed, “you’re a big girl you could have walked away. You didn’t have to let it go so far.”

“See that’s your problem,” she huffed in frustration, “you’re not willing to understand or anything. You just get mad and shut everyone out. Life doesn’t work like that!”

“In case you haven’t noticed, our lives aren’t normal in any capacity,” he put his hand on the knob, ready to slam the door, “we aren’t normal!”

“I-I want out,” she almost shouted just before he slammed the door. He stopped, stunned at her sudden declaration, “I’m done with all of this, I just want to go home. I want to forget that any of this ever happened.”

“That’d be breaking a contract,” he informed her and she shrugged, “a legally binding one in case you’ve forgotten. There are consequences to what happens when you break a contract. Unintended or not.”

“Would you actually enforce it?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. She knew he was reaching low by even suggesting this; it seemed like he was willing to do anything to get a rise out of her, “what, you’re going to take me to court if I leave?”

“Yes,” he stated simply. Deep down he knew that he wouldn’t really do anything like, but he wanted her to think he would, even if it was just to get a rise for the time being.

“I’ve got no money to pay you,” she huffed, running a hand through her already messy hair in exasperation, “I’ve got no job, no place to call my own. You know that…and you don’t even need the money.”

“Sometimes it’s about proving a point,” he shrugged his shoulder innocently. Ben was starting to hate himself more with each word that rolled off of his lips, but he found himself unable to stop spewing venomous words, “actions always have consequences, Y/N.”

“I’m starting to see that,” she wanted nothing more than to punch him squarely in the face, to damage his perfect features, “if you want to play it that way, then fine. I’ll stay. It’s not like I’ve got much choice.”

“If you stopped because so overly dramatic about everything it would be fine. We can have a future together, you know,” she immediately shook her head at his words, “we can still make this work.”

“Not when you’re being like that,” she smiled tearfully, trying her very best to keep herself from completely falling apart, “I don’t even know you anymore. I had some hope that you were still in there, the real Ben – my Benny. But you’re not. I have no clue who you are anymore.”

“You say that, but you know it’s not true-“

“It’s true,” she interrupted sharply, a bemused smirk on her tear stained face, “but that’s okay…I’ll let used to it. I’ll do my job just like a good girl, and we’ll call it square. I’m done fighting with you, I’m done trying to rationalize anything that’s going on. We’re not the little boy and girl who met over ice cream, who shared their Legos, who grew up together. I’m going to accept that. I hope you do too.”

“Y/N, don’t be like this,” he said harshly, wishing she would just stop talking. He was feeling near a breakdown himself as she kept wearing down his already weak defenses. She had always known how to get him, how to bring him out of his shell, and she was slowly succeeding in it, “let the past die. Kill it if you have to.”

“I can’t do that,” she disagreed with him, “I’m not like you.”

“So, where does that leave us?” he asked suddenly, his hands on his hips, a foot tapping lightly against the cold floor, “tell me exactly what you want.”

“I want us to forget everything that’s happened between us. You want to forget the past, fine, we’ll let it go. But then the rest of this,” she pointed her finger between the two of them, still in their disheveled states after having spent the night together, “is forgotten as well. You agree to my terms, or I’ll walk away. I don’t even care about the money, I’ll find some way to pay you back.”

“What about your new boyfriend?” he almost spit the words out; he wanted to be mad at his other best friend, to call him a snake for kissing he girl he was in love with, “you want me to forget about him too?”

“You have no reason to be angry with Joe. He’s an innocent party,” she wished he was there to defend both himself and her, “he didn’t know about how you felt-”

“What did you tell him? Did you tell him how you felt about me?” he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer, or if he would have preferred to remain in the darkness. When he had seen them kiss, it had broken his heart. The way they had leaned into other, it was a soft, tender moment, intimate and only to be shared between lovers. It should have been him, not Joe was drilled into his mind. If he couldn’t have Y/N, then Joe definitely couldn’t.

“I told him the truth,” she said honestly, “I told him I used to love you, that I used to have feelings for you. I told him what happened between us.”

“Oh,” there was a knot forming in his stomach, and he thought he might throw up. Joe knew too much; Ben had been very careful about what parts of ‘the truth’ he had provided to his closest friends, and it appeared to be coming back to bite him in the butt.

“And I told him that I had feelings for him too,” she felt her cheeks heat up as the truth came out. She hadn’t intended on falling for Joe; if anything she thought she would slowly be falling back in love with Ben. But things had gone very topsy-turvy, ending up in a mess that nobody had anticipated.

But there was something about Joe, his sweet smile, those soft hazel eyes, the musical laugh - everything that was slowly thawing her out and winning her over. He was kind, a gentle soul to his core, and he made her feel like nobody else had in a long time.

“How do you even know you like him?” Ben huffed, incredulous at her somewhat startling confession. He didn’t think they were actually getting to that part, “you’ve only known him for a few weeks.”

“That doesn’t matter, Ben, time is insignificant,” she countered, “and it’s not like I said I was in love with him. But I do like him, and I’m not going to hold back my feelings just because it makes you feel insecure. I’ve been up upfront with both of you. Joe wants to talk to you about everything, Ben. He feels like he owes you. Or are you going to just cut him off too?”

Ben let out a sound somewhere between a scoff and a half laugh, “I don’t want to talk to him about any of this. He should have known how I felt. It should have been obvious to him..”

“Not everything is obvious to everyone else, Ben,” Y/N sighed loudly, “you have to talk to people, open up to them so they know. You didn’t tell Joe anything about us, how could you possibly think he would have any inkling?”

“Whatever,” he threw back his head and squeezed his eyes shut, rolling his neck and relishing in the popping feeling, “you can do whatever you want with him. I don’t care, just don’t force me to look at it. You can at least spare me that much.”

“If you’re agreeable to my terms, then I’ll agree to yours.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” she echoed back at him, a little taken aback by his lack of bite, or back chat. He did a number of avoiding her eyes, but gave her a nod of confirmation, a single golden curl bouncing and gleaming in the bright morning light.

“Yup,” he popped the p loudly, “I said okay.”

“Okay,” she repeated, almost in a mocking way just to annoy him. He remained wordless, but finally stepped back into the room and and slammed the door shut. It was such a forceful slam, the generic pictures that hung on the walls of the rented apartment shook, threatening to fall to the floor.

Much like me she thought to herself, ready to bend and break at any second.

Y/N sat in front of the television, aimlessly watching the reruns of The Office that were on loop. She’d seen every episode at least ten times, but it provided some good background noise; just enough to keep her mind from drifting too far.

She had been anticipating Joe’s return, waiting with nerves running high. She wanted to intercept and warn him about Ben before he went to speak with him. At least that way she could spare him some torture. Every sound she heard made her jump and look towards the door, sure she would be met with the sight of his face. But it never was, only the sounds of the bustling city met her ears.

Just as she was about to drift off, her eyelids getting heavier with passing second, she felt a soft tap on her shoulder. Almost jumping out of her spot on the couch, she glanced up to see Joe looming over her, a half smile on his face.

“Joe,” she breathed out, unable to prevent the smile that was threatening to break her face in half. He leaned down ever so slightly, pressing his lips against hers in a soft kiss, ala Spiderman. It caught her guard for a moment, but she quickly reciprocated the kiss, letting her lips linger against his.

“Sorry I’m back so late,” he finally said as he pulled away, sitting down on the couch next to her. He put his around on the back of the couch and she fought the urge to just snuggle up against him, “did I miss anything? Are you alright?”

“Honestly, I don’t know how to answer either of those questions,” she admitted nervously, suddenly very interested in the loose strands coming apart at the end of her sweater, “it’s been a day to say the least. I-I talked to Ben.”

He could tell by the shift in her tone, subtle but there, that it hasn’t gone extremely well. She pulled her knees up to her chest, and resting her head on top of them, let out a weighty breathe. Joe reached over and gave her leg a reassuring squeeze, trying to be as gentle as possible, “what happened? Is he…okay?”

“I fear that it’s just a pretty big mess and somehow I don’t get the feeling that he’s okay,” she closed her eyes, trying to block out the images of his upset face that floated around her mind, “he was mad that I wasn’t ready to fall back into his arms, I explained to him yet that I was just going to do that. I told him it would take him, especially considering he wasn’t anything like the person he used to be. He just told me to let it go.”

“Can you?” Joe asked, even though he had a pretty good idea of what her answer would be. She laughed though her nose, and cocked an eyebrow at him, “I suppose that was a silly question.”

“If your best friend left, the one you had known for years, the one you thought you knew, left and came back a different a person, could you just get over it?” she mused out loud, and Joe knew he wouldn’t be able to. He just shook his head silently, confirming her own response, “exactly. Which is why this is so weird. Bits and pieces of him are still there, but….it’s not the same.”

“It must be hard,” he commented dryly, watching as she stared off in the distance, not focusing in on anything in particular.

“There was a day, and I remember it so clearly, when we were children, playing with Legos and building a house and little versions of the us,” the same memory he wanted her to forget. But Ben had remembered it too; that’s why it pained him so much, “I asked him of we were always going to be friends. He said yes, and promised me even though we had decided even back then that adults were silly. We were going to get married and even get a dog. But that’s obviously so far from what’s happened.”

“Even though it’s not the reality that’s panned out, you should be able to hang onto that memory,” Joe could picture the young versions of the two of them, sitting around and intently playing the plastic bricks together to build their own little world, “you don’t have to let the past die.”

“I didn’t think so either,” she answered with a half-hearted laugh, as she traced never ending figures into the fabric of her pants, “but someone has other ideas. I just don’t know what to do with him anymore. I wish I could just let him go and forget about him, but I know I can’t.”

“Letting go of the people you love, or once loved isn’t it easy,” Joe agreed; he’d lost several close friends over the years himself, and it hurt just as much each time, “but it doesn’t you have to. Ben’s not a bad person, not the Ben I’ve known anyway. I realize I haven’t known him nearly as long as you, but I don’t think he’s a bad person. This hard for him too, although in different ways.”

“I know,” Joe just had to be the voice of reason. Even in her heart of hearts, she knew Ben wasn’t a bad person. He, much like her, was just confused and conflicted as well, “I just hope he sees my side of things at some point. I think I understand his version of things, but he needs to see him. And not just invalidate my feelings.”

“Well said,” Joe gave her a sweet smile, almost enough to melt her heart right then and there, “do you think I should…”

“No,” she cut him off abruptly before he could get another word in edgewise, “probably not the best idea, at least for now. I told him that I liked you, I was honest with him about my feelings. He wasn’t exactly thrilled.”

“I swear, I didn’t know before...:” Joe started but quietly trailed off, his voice almost cracking as he a wave of realization washed over him. He should have known Ben had feelings for her still. Why else would he have gone back to England to find her and propose this crazy plan to her? But the moment he had laid eyes on her at the airport, he had felt himself falling for her, “I should have been able to put two and two together. I feel like a complete fool.”

“It’s not your fault, Joe,” Y/N didn’t want to see him beat himself up over any of this. If nothing else, Ben should have been upfront with him about his true intentions as well; especially considering he claimed that Joe was his closest friend. Y/N had tried her best to be honest and forth and coming, even though it had been hard, “Ben should have told you how he felt, not just think you knew and then brood about it. Besides, I don’t feel the same about him anymore.”

“Positive?” he asked, needing the reassurance in order to prevent the nagging feeling rising in his stomach. He knew he shouldn’t feel bad about how he was feeling, he had nothing with malicious intent, but it was still there. He knew he couldn’t help how his heart felt. She wondered if she should have just told him about the fact that they had inadvertently ended up in bed together the night before, but decided against. Now wasn’t the time.

Y/N leaned across the couch, reaching out and gently taking his hand in hers, rubbing her thumb across the back of it gently, “I like you, Joe. And trust me, falling for my ex-best friend that still has feelings for me and I might have had repressed feelings for as well’s current best friend was the last thing I intended on happening. But well, it happened. You know, I’ve learned a lot over the past couple of years, had to do a lot of growing up, and while a lot of things still remain a mystery to me, I have learned that almost nothing goes according to plan.”

“What did Ben say about all of this?” Joe felt his heart start to thump wildly in his chest, mainly due to shock by the fact that she returned the exact feelings he for her. He could only imagine his soft face; how upset he must have been. He hadn’t been in Ben’s exact situation before, but the feeling was already weighing in heavy on him.

“Well, he said he didn’t care,” she almost laughed, knowing full well it had been a been a bold-faced lie, “the one thing he asked was that we just…weren’t together around him. Which I can understand, to a point. I also don’t want to have to hide anything.”

“Point well made, but even if we were to…go on a date, or whatever,” there was a small smile playing on the corner of his mouth, “we’d still have to keep it quiet. What would people think if you were supposedly dating Ben but you were out with me?”

“That hadn’t even crossed my mind honestly,” how could she have been so silly and forgotten that not so minor little detail. That was the whole person she was even here – the only reason she had met Joe, “I don’t want to have to hide my entire life, Joe. I can understand when we’re out in public, because obviously I agreed to that with Ben, but in private? I don’t want to hide in the shadows.”

“We can figure it out, sugar,” he took her hand and turned it over, running a deft finger along the lines of her palm, “we’ll take it one step at a time. But first things first…would you like to go out to dinner with me? As in yes, a real date.”

“You might either be bad at reading the signs,” she grinned at him, “or just a real sap. But I think you know the answer is a big obvious yes by now.”

“Really?” he asked enthusiastically, still somewhat surprised by her answer. She just looked at him and nodded, entertained by his childlike reaction, “what should we do about…you know…”

“We don’t have to tell him,” she almost surprised herself by how easily the words flowed from her mouth, “he doesn’t want to know, so he won’t. It’ll be our little secret. At least for now.”

“Okay,” he rasped out as she moved closer to him, their faces only centimeters apart, his breath fanning over her face. She reached up and gently touched his face, fingertips grazing the light stubble he had allowed to grow there.

He couldn’t stop himself from closing the distance between them, effectively pulling her onto his lap, and crashing his lips against on hers, desperate to taste her again, to her body against his. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, one hand carding through his auburn hair as his hands held firmly onto her waist.

This was so different from how it been with Ben the previous night. With him it had felt rushed, and more forced than anything else, her mind had wandered to all sorts of places. But with Joe it was so different; it was soft, but needy, a sense of fervent passion mixed in as their lips meshed together. Her mind wasn’t anywhere but on Joe, how good it felt as he touched her tenderly, the little bit of scratchy feeling of his stubble against her cheek, how soft his lips were, how he made little sounds of content as she kissed him.

In that moment all she knew was the she wanted him – him and only him.

“Joe,” she almost moaned as she pulled back for a moment, both of their chests rising and falling rapidly as they tried to catch their breath. She rested her forehead against his, nuzzling her nose against his. One of his hands slipped under the hem of her shirt, fingers ghosting over the soft bare flesh. She bit her bottom lip as she looked at him, “I-I don’t know if we should do this right now.”

“Do you want to?” there was a note of trepidation in his voice, like he too was questioning whether or not they should continue on. He wanted to, there was no doubt in his mind, but he wasn’t about to capitalize on the situation if she wasn’t ready to. He’d never forgive himself if he did that, “we don’t have to anything, especially if you’re uncomfortable or not ready. I want you to be ready.”

“I want to, Joe,” she reassured, rutting her hips ever so slightly in his lap, “I just don’t know if I’m going to be able to stop if we start.”

“Then don’t stop,” she looked like she was about to speak again, so he cut her off by pressing his lips against hers, pulling her body tightly against his, “but if you need to stop, just tell me.”

“Please just kiss me,” it was her turn to cut him off, smirking against his lips, and giving into his dominance. She would let him take all the control if meant she got to be with him.

Ben had thought he heard some commotion coming from the living room and wondered what it was. As far as he had known, only Y/N was home, and as annoyed and angry as he was, he wanted to make sure she was okay.

His jaw almost hit the floor as he realized what he had stumbled up. Y/N was perched in Joe’s lap and the two of them were going at each other like they were the only two people in the world. He thought about going over and punching Joe square in the face, telling to let go of his girl, but he stopped himself. He watched them silently, blood boiling and anger rising with each passing second.

But he didn’t do anything. He just watched them for a few more moments, wondering if they’d ever notice. But they didn’t. They were far too involved with each other.

At one point, Y/N pulled back from Joe, a small giggle escaping her lips, as Joe had let out a low moan, “shh, silly, or the whole world’s going to hear! Remember what we said.”

“Our little secret.”

The words crashed over Ben’s ears as he felt like he had been punched in the gut. He inhaled deeply a few times before turning around and rushing back to his bedroom, closing the door silently so they wouldn’t know he had stumbled upon them. He angrily wiped at the few tears that had spilled down his cheeks before throwing himself onto the bed. He had practically given them all the leeway in the world, but it still strung, cutting him like a knife.

Our little secret. Our little secret. Our little secret.

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thiswreckageivebecome · 5 years

Text

You Never Listen (Sebastian Stan/OC Oneshot)

Pairing: Sebastian x Emily (original character)

Warnings: Language, sexual reference, Angst!

Word Count: 4624

I rose from the couch, needing a break and a good stretch from the countless numbers of hours my husband and I had been binging Pixar films, crying and laughing all the while.

"Babe, I need a break, I'm going to clean up this mess for a few minutes." Sebastian whimpered in response.

"Noooo," he complained drawing out the word to an almost obnoxious length. "Don't clean. Stay here with me," he attempted to pull me back down but I was able to yank my wrist from him just in time.

"Seb, we have to clean up at some point and honestly, I need some time off the couch for a change. I feel as though I've been bedridden for two months and I'm beginning to get pressure sores." He rolled his eyes quickly and scoffed.

"Fine then. I'm going to stretch out and take up the entire couch then." His slender body quickly stretched the entire length of the couch and he snapped the tiny blue velvet and créme dappled cashmere blanket that barely covered half of him and pulled it up under his chin as if I was going to try and stop him. It was then my turn to roll my eyes and instead of scoffing, I simply grinned and shook my head. I felt my auburn hair begin to fall out of the loose bun Sebastian had tied up for me earlier as I cried within the first scenes of Up and my grown-out curtain bangs kept getting caught in wet from the tears. I pulled the hair tie out and I saw the blonde ends still holding strong, but it wouldn't be long before they were completely grown out and it would be back to its normal burnt sienna shade. I looked forward to it so that I could begin experimenting with something else again.

"Seb, don't you want to go back blonde when I do my hair next?" I asked, picking up the bowls and plates and stacking them to carry a bulk to the kitchen.

"Do I want to because I want to," he asked shiftily, "or do I want to because you want me to?" He grinned mischievously so that just the tips of his teeth showed and I could tell by the way his lips sat, that tongue would soon make its way to the corner of his mouth. Sure enough two seconds of silence passed and my prediction was correct. I simply deadpanned in his direction, halting on the clean-up, holding the look for about five seconds in total before returning to the dirty dished and half-empty take-out containers.

"I surprised myself that I liked it blonde. It isn't my preference, but it's something different. I was just asking."

"Oh, but there was so much behind that asking, wasn't there?" He began to sit up which put him in punching reach and I knew he was doing it just for that purpose. If I gave into his teasing and attempted to lay hands on him, he would pull me back onto the couch with him and I could let go the idea of cleaning up. I held my ground and with arms full, I began retreating to the kitchen but not before I cast the guillotine words over my shoulder: "Do whatever you'd like; as long as you don't grow that fucking Gillooly 'stache back I don't care."

I quickly emptied my arms on the kitchen counter as I heard his feet hit the floor and the shuffling grew to a boisterous level. I knew he would be behind me in a flash. I was right, he quickly grabbed my waist from behind, prodding and caressing my sides causing my body to spasm and erupt with laughter and squeals.

"No! Seb," I said in between laughs and when I had the lung capacity. "Seb, stop. Mercy, please!"

"You can just pretend it's my mustache tickling your sides." I couldn't help but laugh harder at his response. I caught sight of his eyes and saw the shift. They flashed and I could practically see the fire light within as his tickling became less tickle-like and more licentious. He gripped my waist tightly and picked me up. I let him, monkeying my legs around his slim hips. He held me there for a moment as I could feel multiple levels and areas of tension.

Tension seemed almost visible as we scrutinized each others' features. Tension in the air solidified almost synchronously with the throbbing I felt through our sweats. I tightened my grip on his hips as his hands rose quickly to my scalp, long, thin fingers extending into my hair and then scrunching in order to gently tug a handful. He stepped forward abruptly, shocking us both, I believe, and when he did, I felt it before I could react. There were excruciatingly loud crashes as about seven glass and ceramic dishes hit the tile floor with an exquisite amount of force.

"Shit!" I exclaimed. "Fuck me! I can't." I pulled away from Sebastian with more force than I meant to, consequently slamming my head into the glass-encased white cabinets. The glass in the cabinet busted and I felt the sharp pain as the glass shards cut into my scalp. "DAMN IT! FU- OWWW!"

"Oh shit, Em. Are you okay?" Sebastian had nothing but concern on his face but I was livid and in pain which definitely didn't lead to a calm and forgiving disposition. How it had taken this long for some shit like this to happen, I'd forever be amazed.

"Yes, Sebastian, I'm just freaking peachy. Our good wedding china is broken because your dumbass wanted to be fancy and shit and now my head has cuts and gashes in it. I'm fucking perfect. Fucking move out of my way and be careful where you step."

"No, Em. You stay there, I'm going to run a towel here with some water and then I'll-"

"No, you fucking won't. You'll move out of the damn way." I reached out and pushed him in the direction of what looked to be a clear path lacking in broken shards. He stepped out of the way as quickly as possible, attempting to miss anything that would cut open his foot. I grabbed the ashen towel from beside the sink as I hopped down, careful of where I stepped and placed it on the back of my head.

He turned away from me long enough to go grab the broom from the corner of the micro kitchen. I began following him.

"I'll clean this up and you can go-" he began to say before turning around, surprised to see me right there.

"No, I've got it. I don't need you to do anything else." Even I could feel the heat generating and emanating from my pores so that it wasn't surprising to see the Aegean nuances that always appeared and began to circuit around his normally cerulean iris' when he began to get angry. "Good," I thought, "Let's fucking do this."

"Em," he began, attempting to remain calm, "I'm sorry that I broke the dishes and that your head is hurt, cut open to be exact, but why do I feel like your reaction is a little ove-....out-of-character."

"Overboard, huh?" I swiped the broom from his hands, turned, and began sweeping up all of the fractured shards. "You want to know what's not overboard? This minuscule fucking kitchen. I've been telling you for four damn years this kitchen is too small. Yet, do you listen? No, you don't. We just keep on trying to cook together, burning each other all the time because we can't move one inch without bumping into one another or we drop dishes of food making a mess that one of us has to clean up, normally me. Not to mention that trying to entertain for your damn famous friends is a motherfucking nightmare." I got the last bits of shards into one final pile, sweeping them into the pan, and walked over to the trash, proceeding to slam the shards in there so there was more clatter and breaking into smaller pieces.

"Woah. Hold the fucking phone, Emily. First off, we both tend to be pretty clumsy so I don't think you should blame the light burnings and spilled dishes on the size of the kitchen. Sec0nd, I do fucking clean this apartment. I've always cleaned this damn apartment and I've been doing just fine with this kitchen for longer than the four years you say you've been telling me we need a bigger one. Plus, I don't recall you say-"

"Yes, Sebastian, we're both clumsy. Yes, you clean, but that doesn't invalidate my argument and you damn-well-know it. Oh, and I'm sorry, I'm so glad you could live just fine in this small kitchen without me for all those years. I can make this kitchen great for you once more." I strode off, stomping all of the way, past Sebastian's motionless stupefied position. The veins I could see in his arms from his clenched hands seemed to be physically vibrating and his cheeks has lost quite a bit of its typical cool tawny color yet I pushed forward. I reached the restroom we shared and slammed the door, causing the containers on the counter to do a small shimmy. I heaved the kitchen towel I had laid around my neck while sweeping against the wall with all the strength I had in my body. However, the blood that had clotted from the wounds must have reopened and somehow it hurt like hell. "OW! Fuck!!"

I was even more angry now at the wounds so I began grabbing other towels and unbreakable things in the bathroom and began throwing those against the wall. I had often used this strategy of anger management since I was young. Whenever my parents would piss me off I would pick up shoes and throw them against the clothes hanging in my closet as hard as I could, so as not to alert anyone of my hulk-like rage, until the majority of the anger had expired. Today, it seemed, would be no different. I grabbed a clean rag out of the drawer and wet it before placing it on the back of my head in attempts to clean the wounds a little bit. They weren't that bad, I was just being overdramatic; arguments with Seb always made my dramatics 27 times worse than normal. I heard the hasty padding of Seb's feet down the hall. I turned and locked the door quickly before he reached it. The doorknob jiggled but abruptly stopped as he knew I had locked him out on purpose.

"Emi, are you alright? You know, besides the cuts and gashes in your head..." he lightly tossed my words back at me. I looked at the ceiling exasperated.

"I'm just brilliant, Sebastian," I bit back at him.

"Will you let me in?" He braved the question after a brief pause. I could hear the tension in his voice, not out of anger, but out of concern. For some reason it made me even more furious, transforming my exterior to have more the consistency of concrete than brick.

"Honestly, I don't really want to talk with you right now. Just the sound of your voice is grating my nerves."

"Shit," I could hear the surprise in his voice but I had a feeling a snarky comment was to follow. "I'm sure glad you put that bit in your vows because then I'd be worried you had divorce papers being made up in there at this very moment."

"Sebastian. Please, for the love of that small-ass kitchen, shut the fuck up. I'm not joking with you. I'm tired of that kitchen. I'm tired of you brushing it off and not doing anything about it." I finished cleaning my scalp and threw the rag in the sink before unlocking and slinging the door open so swiftly that it started the both of us. "It's like you don't even care about the way I feel about this. Oh, and I know what you were going to say earlier. You don't recall me saying that much. Well guess what, Sebastian, I didn't say a lot about it the first two years we knew each other because we weren't fucking married. I didn't have a place to, so yes, I would jokingly slip it in but after we were married I only bring it up on a monthly basis and how long have we been married, Sebastian?"

"Two years," he paused so I waited, "and I've loved you for four."

"See, Sebastian, you think that's sweet but what you're doing is you're using that to try and melt my frustration. You're not FUCKING LISTENING! You just want it to go away and everything to go back to normal. You want me to accept that and sweep my feelings under the rug but I'm getting pretty fucking sick of sweeping up my feelings, much like those shards of our wedding dishes now, and placing them in the trash. I've been doing it for two years and I'm just getting tired of it." I sat down, somewhat beat down, and sighed. His eyes, constantly alternating and intermixing between arctic, sapphire, and even at the briefest of seconds, teal shades, had followed me as I crossed to the middle of the room, paced back and forth in front of the bed, and ultimately stopped to show him how exhausted I was by all of this. He was speechless so I continued.

"Seb, look. It may seem small to you...not the kitchen, my feelings, just to be clear...and no I don't hound you about it because in the grand scheme of things it isn't like it's going to make or break our marriage and no, I don't need a ton of fancy things; I hope you know that. I just really do feel like it'd be helpful to have a bigger kitchen. It's one thing I really would like. Sometimes I just feel like I'm living in a bachelor pad and that was fine when you were a bachelor or when we were first married...but there's two of us now-there has been for two years-and we do like to entertain. By the way, we like to entertain our friends, not just 'your famous friends.' I'm sorry I said that. They're our friends no matter what heights or depths of the well-known totem pole they're at."

"I didn't realize it bothered you that much."

"It only does sometimes. Today being one of those times apparently." There was an extended silence but I felt I had said enough for now so I let him break through the quiet in the room.

"Serious question...how many times do we really entertain, though?" My eyes made an involuntary elongated blink before opening wider than before as my head shook in shock. This is what he chose to say? I rose from the bed and backed away, still facing him, taking in the subdued amaranth rising from within.

"Are you serious? That's your response to all of this? That's your argument?"

"I'm not arguing; I'm just asking."

"Oh, but there's so much behind that question, isn't there? Go ahead, let's lay it all out on the metaphorical fucking table. Let's do this," my voice rose in decimals with each word. He rose from the bed as well.

"Alright, fine, fucking fine, Emily. I don't understand how we were having a perfectly nice day. We enjoyed movies, laughing and crying together, snuggling, everything was fine. Then we're joking and teasing, then we're about to have sex and then seemingly out of nowhere, you lose your top. You fucking freak out over a few broken dishes and a few scratches. I didn't actually do anything to you and you act like I've ruined your life and you've been living in hell with me these past two years." He began walking towards the bedroom door. "It's like it's completely out of the blue and I don't fucking understand why we're fighting." He walked into the hallway, throwing his hands in the air, and began making his way back to the living area. I fell in pace with him quickly, right on his heels.

"Have you listened to one damned word I've said? Oh, silly me, that's my whole point in this argument, isn't it. That you don't listen to what I say or how I feel." He turned on me just as I caught up to him.

"I listen to everything you say. In fact, I've hung onto every single word you've said to me since the day we met, believe it not. You may think I'm only attempting to diffuse a situation and 'melt' your heart and exterior when I say things like that but I'm only sharing the truth. I don't know how long or how many times I have to try and prove to you how much you mean to me."

"Just because you hear doesn't mean you listen, Sebastian!"

"Tocmai pentru că auziți nu înseamnă că ascultați, spune ea," he said wryly.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" I questioned, my anger reaching new heights.

"I didn't say anything to you!"He scolded back, pacing.

"E ca și cum ne-am căsătorit pentru o bucătărie dracului."

"Oh, speak in fucking English," I said, my voice lowering but still filled with a magnitude of frustration and annoyance. "The only reason you're speaking in Romanian is so I won't know what you're saying, but I can tell you're mocking me, you asshole."

"O batjocorește, spune ea, dacă numai ea știa ce spuneam, va râde până acum, în ciuda faptului că mă bat în realitate."

"Do I look like I'm laughing?" I asked, crossing my arms and jutting out my hip to the right, full of attitude, which he turned and saw. "Yeah, I remember that word."

"Oh, you remember that word, huh? It doesn't mean that you know what I said just because you know one word."

"Oh, listen to this miracle, you're listening."

"Oh good God, woman," he cast his hands in the air, rolling his eyes simultaneously. "I told you, I listen. I listen. I-"

"Says the one who-" I attempted to interrupt him but he walked up to me and placed his hand over my mouth, silencing my rebuttal.

"I hear that you hate when I play entire film scores on repeat that don't have any lyrics in them. I hear you every other Saturday morning when you say that while you love purple, you cringe just looking at grape jam. I hear you when you mutter under your breath anytime we pass someone who has clearly just finished a huge stinky blunt. I'm listening when you tell me your ideas for how Endgame should have gone. I'm listening when you explain how to fry chicken despite how many times I've burned it because you 'have faith' in me, as you say. I'm listening when you tell me that in your dream kitchen, you'd have anchor-colored cabinetry with pewter and pearl herringbone tile on the floor and marbled granite countertops, all finished off with a clear crystal backsplash. I am listening all the time. I know you want hooks under the cabinets to hang coffee cups on and the pull-out pantries everywhere you turn like you always loved when you watched "30 Minute Meals with Rachel Ray," growing up. I know you want a double-sided fridge with a bottom freezer and an extra deep freezer somewhere else. I know all of that. I do listen. I listen and I act." His words shocked me, literally shocked me. I felt energy course through my body as if I had stuck a fork I was holding in an electrical socket.

"Se-"

"Which is why I have something to show you, if you'll come with me." I only nodded, still moved by his words so that I no longer had any of my own. He took me by the hand and dragged me out of the apartment. As we walked through the city, we remained silent. I didn't know where he was taking me. I was still processing the concept that he remembered so many details. We ended up at East 57th. He stopped walking at 303 and dropped my hand. Out of his pocket appeared keys I had not seen before.

"What is this, Sebastian?" I questioned, curiosity blanketing my voice. He retrieved my hand once more and I followed him into the elevator where he pressed nine. "Sebastian, what is happening?" He couldn't stop himself from grinning before I saw it, but he bit his lip in an attempt to stop himself from grinning more. "Sebastian! Wha-"

"Just be patient for once in your life," he said chuckling and licking his lips as he often did when he was a little nervous. The elevator doors opened and he pulled me forward. "Alright," he stopped right outside the elevator, "now, I know it's not Riverside Drive, but I did the best I could." He handed me the mystery keys and motioned for the first door we saw. It was labeled "9C." I could only look back and forth between the door and him.

"Sebastian, what are you saying?" He gave me a gentle nudge towards the door. When I barely moved, he placed his hands on my waist and pushed me forward from behind.

"Go ahead, unlock and open it." He grabbed my elbow to assist as he knew my brain wasn't quite connecting to my body. I unlocked the door, and pushed it open. "It's yours, not Will Truman's, but yours, " he whispered in my ear, leaning in close, arms draped around my torso. "It's ours," his tepid lips brushed my ear through my hair. He continued to guide me forward. As I walked in, I saw what appeared to be the living room. There was one couch and it resembled the one Anthony had lied about years ago during an interview, small cashmere blankets and all. To the right, my eyes widened and I could practically feel them brighten. He let me go and walked into the kitchen, leaning against the counter, unquestionably pleased with himself. He stood, grinning, tongue moving across his lips, eyes afire, with all the attitude of Tony Stark.

"Seb...it's...Seb...you...did this?" It was the exact kitchen I had talked about down to the colored grout.

"You didn't know I was such a handy-man, did you?" He teased, the right side of his face constricting in attempts to not bust forth with laughter so I did so for him.

"Yeah-right," I stuttered out between giggles. I ran to him and jumped into his arms, entangling my legs around his waist. "I can't believe this, Seb, it's so beautiful!!" I showered his face with kisses, all of the rage from earlier non-existent. He caressed my back as he spun me slowly around so that I could see everything but I didn't pay it much mind. "How long have you been planning this?"

"Well," he said, placing me on the kitchen island, "planning or in the process of?"

"Both."

"I've been planning since...well...since you agreed to marry me. The process started about six months after we got married. I had to find the real estate in the city that would allow me to have it redone how we wanted. Then, of course, since you only mentioned anything on a monthly basis, it took a while to get everything designed and to the contractors and interior designers." I didn't think I could be anymore shocked than I had been only moments ago but yet again, here I was, utterly dumbfounded.

"Sebastian. I'm so sorry for being such an ass."

"Nu mă așteptam la nimic mai puțin, în plus, te iubesc mai mult decât orice în lumea asta."

"Te iubesc...I love you too." He began to kiss me gingerly, first on the lips before moving slowly to my temples and placing his hands hesitantly in my hair behind my head so as not to hurt the tiny cuts I had been so dramatic about earlier. I began to reach to his waist as his lips moved across my skin. I tugged at the hem of his shirt, simultaneously pulling him as close to me as possible and lifting ever so slightly, hoping he would get the hint.

"By the way, I didn't mean much of anything I said earlier," he mentioned quietly. "I was really just trying to get you riled up enough for...well..."

"Hot, angry sex?" I questioned bluntly.

"Well, it is our go-to argument ender." He began to nibble across my collarbone and up my neck.

"So that's why you pick fights with me, huh?" I finished asking breathlessly as his cool hand raced up and inside the front of my shirt.

"To be honest, yes, 99% of the time." I cackled and tugged his shirt up and over his head pushing him away. I jumped down from the island simultaneously and beckoned him back. He removed my shirt and then lifted me, kissing from my neck down my torso as low as he physically could.

"So tell me, Mr. Stan, are you going to fuck me until tomorrow on this beautiful marble to officially christen this our new home?" He huffed, air caught in his throat at my unexpected words. "I can't bear to mess up that beautiful couch and it doesn't look like there's many other options." Once he gained control of his voice again, he placed mthis the island once more, this time laying me back and crawling on top of me, straddling me. He leaned in close.

"There is actually a bed," he pulled down his sweats and shook them off, "but I'll take fucking you on the counter, on the floor, in the shower, wherever you'll let me. Everything is finished and the furniture will be here." He paused, leaned back and yanked down my sweats one leg at a time. "I made sure all of it was covered in 70's plastic...does that make you angry?"

"You just want to make me angry, don't you?"

"Just enough."

"Then you know what you really need to say to me, don't you?" I thumbed his briefs, pulling on them just enough. He huffed again as my hand moved closer to him. I pretended I was in the process of removing my panties but in actuality, I just wanted to feel him throbbing for the second time that day.

"*NSYNC is the worst boy band of all time," he responded darkly. I grabbed his hand, pushing them underneath my panties and he began to work. Before we knew it all of our garments were gone and there indeed was a mess on the floor and the counters. We made our way that night to every single room of our new home. There was a tremendous amount of yelling with different intensities and various obscenities. There was hardly a place in that apartment our bodies didn't meet and we felt each other throughout the night.

When we awoke the next morning, finally making it to the bed, we were sticky so we showered and considering there were no linens we dried off in the best way we knew how to get our bodies heated up at lightening paces, and all the while looking forward to our next fight.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan one shot #sebastian stan fic #fanfiction

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green-writes-sanderssides · 6 years

Text

The Past is Just a Story

Summary: Anxiety and Deceit were never friends. However, maybe Virgil and Ciar were, just a little bit.

Warnings: Manipulative Deceit, fighting (verbally), cussing

This is a prequel(/sequel?) to The Aspects of Being Human! But it can be read as a stand-alone as well.

“Deceit, it’s time we talked.”

The snake’s room was a design Anxiety had never seen before that day. Sometimes, it was a massive ballroom or a gorgeous indoor garden. Other times, it was shrouded in complete darkness with his voice echoing around you, or just a simple bedroom mirroring Thomas’s. On this day, all there was in the center of a blank room was a round table with two chairs.

A negotiations table, Virgil thought.

As always, Deceit popped up out of nowhere, too good to “rise up” as the main sides did. He sat in one of the chairs with his white-gloved hands held together on the table. Anxiety never quite understood Deceit’s style; it was just a typical black and white suit with a top hat - a magician, master of deception and all that, but it didn’t go with his scaly reptile face at all.

Not that Anxiety was all that much of a fashionista. He wore the same hoodie, every single day and night, with the same black jeans. But, hey, at least that actually fit his overall aesthetic.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Anxiety,” Deceit began in a mocking tone. “You finally got our young Thomas to notice you. What an accomplishment!”

Anxiety crossed his arms and scoffed, deciding not to sit down yet. “Don’t get mad at me, you know it wasn’t by choice.”

“Not by choice?” The lying side stood up to be at level with Anxiety. His one snake-like pupil was possibly thinner than he’s ever seen before- not that it scared him. “Yes, because you totally didn’t choose to parade around with the main sides, and that totally didn’t practically force Thomas to hear who was finally complaining in his head.”

“I was worried for him!”

“Were you? Or is that the teenage hormones talking?”

“I’m trying to protect him, Deceit!”

“That’s my job! Yours is to stay-” the snake suddenly stopped himself, letting out an exasperated sigh and unclenching his fists. “You did come to me to fight.”

“Right.” Anxiety let himself ease up, too. They were never going to agree on the situation at hand, but there were other things they could agree on, just maybe. He moved to sit in one of the chairs, gesturing with his chin for Deceit to sit in the other. “Sit. I believe we have some deals to make, correct?”

Deceit, despite rolling his eyes, complied without any further complaints. “I’ll oh-so-graciously allow you to start, then. What are these so-called ‘deals,’ Anxiety?”

“I’m not a dark side anymore.”

There was a moment of silence, until…

Deceit began to laugh without restraint. “O-oh, that is rich. You think just because little ol’ Thomas knows of your existence, you’re suddenly a light side!” The snake suddenly grew serious, leaning over the table and staring directly at the other. “Newsflash, Anxiety: Thomas hates you. You can never be more than a dark side.”

Whatever game Deceit was trying to play, it wouldn’t work this time. They both knew the truth about Anxiety, though maybe the other side didn’t quite see the point yet. “I’m not a dark side, and I’m not a light side either. But, and this is the best part, I’m not like you either. Unlike you, Thomas knows I exist. I have power that you don’t.”

“Maybe, but wasn’t that always the case? Isn’t that why I had to keep you in line? Besides, I still have power being invisible that you now don’t-” A look of realization suddenly dawned upon the snake, before an almost sinister smile grew on his lips. “Oh ho ho, Anxiety, you are smarter than I once thought. You want to work together.”

“I think that would be beneficial for both of us.” Anxiety tried his hardest to keep his voice level and calm, despite the aggressive beating of his heart. God, he sounded like Logic. “Do you agree?”

“What are your conditions?” he asked, not giving a yes or no. However, Anxiety knew that meant “yes” - it was an excuse for Deceit to both not lie and not tell the truth.

“Obviously we’re never going to like each other, but if this is gonna work, we need some mutual trust.” Anxiety lifted up his hand as an example. “This? That damn silencing thing you do? That’ll be an example of a break of trust. We’re not doing that.”

“Done,” Deceit simply stated. That almost surprises the anxious side; he thought Deceit would be a little less enthused about the idea of giving Anxiety that much trust, but apparently he really did want this deal. “What else?”

“In return, I won’t use any of my own abilities against you.”

“Of course.”

“And,” Anxiety was particularly nervous about this part. He was told all his life that this was something you don’t reveal to anyone, that it held power and trust that even most of the light sides somewhat understood - except Logic, who seemed to be willing to give his away to anyone. “We should exchange names.”

The snake smiled, seemingly unsurprised by the offer. “You are just full of good ideas today, aren’t you? And that’s not even a lie.” He suddenly stood up, which didn’t surprise Anxiety. Deceit was never made to sit or stand in one place, for some reason. “Once we do this, there’s no giving it back. Do you have any other conditions?”

The anxious side thought for a moment. Deceit seemed to understand the idea enough. With them as a sort of ‘team,’ they could both help and control each other. Deceit would have better control over the dark sides with them trusting Anxiety more. Anxiety had direct power over Thomas and the main sides along with the support of someone who could silence them with one motion. The point was, they were both protectors in their own sense, they just need the other to keep them in place.

“No, I think that’s about it.” Anxiety stood up, too. No longer would either of them be taller than the other. He stretched out his hand. No contracts, obviously; they don’t really mean much when you can conjure up any piece of paper in a snap. “Deal?”

Deceit took his hand without any hesitation. “My name is Ciar.”

“...Keer?” Well, it’s not that Anxiety could really judge it. Maybe all non-light sides were cursed with weird names.

Deceit- or ‘Keer’ rolled his eyes. “Yes, spelled C-I-A-R. You’re the first to ever be granted access to this information, so don’t go taking it for granted.” Ciar kept hold of Anxiety’s hand, a sign that the deal wasn’t quite over yet.

“...Virgil. My name is Virgil.” It felt incredibly strange to say that out loud, but also… invigorating? Relieving? For people, your name is one of the first things you would tell someone. You would hear it over and over again, 24/7, every day of your life, and most wouldn't even think about it. Anxiety’s never even said his name out loud before, and now he had someone who would be calling him by said name? He was sure it was just as weird for De- Ciar, too.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that name. Ciar. It just didn’t quite fit Deceit’s face, but he'd try his best to use it if he did the same for Virgil.

After that initial encounter, Virgil and Ciar became a force to be reckoned with, yet most didn't even know. They both propelled each other forward and held each other back. For Virgil, It felt strangely safe, in a way. He never had to worry about going too far, letting the power he had win over his care for Thomas, because there would always be a snake to stop him. He also never had to worry about Ciar's influence becoming too strong, as now the deceitful side had Virgil to go into the front lines for him if ever needed.

Sometimes, lies and fears went very well together.

Virgil started to learn a lot more about Ciar, too. He saw the side of him that every facet had, the one that loved and cared for Thomas deeply. He would protect his host at all costs first and foremost, as would Virgil. However, Ciar was never one to willingly share these feelings, or any emotions in general. Later, Virgil would learn why:

“My role as Deceit requires me to be skilled at manipulation. To be less emotional means to appear more in control. Ciar suddenly scowled. “Emotional vulnerability can also be an effective manipulation tactic, but it's not my… favored technique.”

In all honesty, Virgil was terrified of Ciar's skills in manipulation. Not only could he manipulate someone as himself, a snake whispering in your ear, but he could also change into anyone he wanted to. Any side could do this, but Deceit was particularly skilled in acting out a side's role perfectly. He learned more and more about his tactics every day, though, and that certainly helped calm his nerves.

Virgil also began to learn how to properly understand Deceit. Every day, month, year, he got better at understand lies and riddles that came from his mouth. Sometimes, Ciar even tested him on it. He doesn't know how he can tell between the side's truth and lies, as he doesn't have any real tells, but maybe it has something more to do with the subtle body language and tone you only know from someone you're with a lot.

Most of their meetings were “business” related, but sometimes - not often, in fact quite rare, but an increased number every year - there would be… moments.

Ciar does an exaggerated mimic of a stoic Logan or a dramatic Roman, making both of them laugh.

Virgil gives Ciar an “insulting” nickname involving reptiles, and Ciar “absolutely hates it.”

Anxiety would fall into panic because of a lie Deceit had him tell, and Ciar would reassure him that they were okay (It was the only time Virgil couldn't tell if he was lying or not).

Ciar would be too tired to talk professionally, and next thing they know they're on the ground talking about birds.

Virgil would walk in on Ciar wrapped in a hundred blankets in the winter, despite the still-warmth of Florida, and tease him almost mercilessly until the snake was hissing at him to leave.

They weren't friends. They couldn't have been, not with how they opposed each other and not with how few and far between those moments were. But it was… something. There was a touch of care in there that Virgil never wanted to admit to.

Thomas was 24 when it finally ended.

Eight years of their lives were spent in that deal. At that point, it was an entire third of Thomas's and Virgil's life. For Ciar, likely being born later, it was an even bigger percentage.

It didn't just break in one night. The partnership was never healthy, no matter how many better moments were sprinkled throughout. Deceit was still manipulating Anxiety, still wanting to keep him under the wings of the dark sides. It didn't matter if Ciar grew to care about Virgil because, in the long run, Anxiety would always be a threat to Deceit.

Anxiety was Virgil and Deceit was Ciar, and they eventually had to stop pretending they were different people.

“Ciar, we need to talk,” he said on that fateful night in September of 2014. By this time, Thomas was already posting Vines that were starting to get popular. Despite all that, those words made him feel like 16-year-old Anxiety again, nervously entering Deceit's room to make deals.

He wasn't here to make deals this time. He was here to end them.

That's what he likes to think, that he went in with the goal of breaking all deals with Ciar, but that couldn't be farther than the truth. In all of his life, Ciar was the closest thing he had and probably ever would have to any real bonds, and letting it go was not something he wanted.

Without Ciar, Virgil would be Anxiety again. How lonely would it be to never hear your name spoken again? How painful would it be to have to run to sides who hate him because he wasn't allowed with the sides he grew up with any more?

“I can't do this anymore.”

“...What?” Ciar sounded genuinely confused, despite the increase in fights they've been having.

“I can't be controlled like this anymore!” He surprised himself, how easy and quick it all came out of his lips. “The number of times you've told me I'm dangerous, I'm dark, I'm corruptive? The number of times I felt like leaving for good because you convinced me I was the bad guy? Then you turn around and make me do horrible things, make Morality hate me? So many times you convinced me to make Thomas tell lies to his friends knowing how it made me feel, knowing that the anxiety it caused made me sick to my stomach and near damn panicking, yet you did it so. Many. Times. And- and the worst part is, I knew this would happen. I knew making a deal with you would require me to deal with so much bullshit manipulation because you still think I'm a dark side, but I did it anyway. I-”

“Stop,” Ciar interrupted Virgil's rant with a white-gloved hand up. “ Manipulation? Virgil, wasn't the entire point of this little deal to be able to control each other? You made this deal not just to control me, but because you knew you needed to be controlled.”

“I thought I did because that's what you've been telling me for my entire goddamn life! I get that you think you've been protecting Thomas--”

“Do you really think after all this time, it's just for Thomas?” At that moment, Virgil saw a change in Ciar's infliction. It was raw, unguarded, not the perfectly calculated side he was used to seeing every day. “Because it's not like we're all part of Thomas. It's not like, maybe, I aim to protect all of us, dark and light. This “manipulation” you speak of is totally not my last chance at protecting you!”

Virgil laughed bitterly. “So let me get this straight, Ciar. You made me feel like the worst side in existence all my life, but, oh, it was to protect me! Then I manage to finally be acknowledged by our host, and you realize you're suddenly failing at your job, so you take the last chance you get to make me feel like shit. But it's all okay because it's to protect me, right?”

“I'm keeping everyone safe!”

“By lying and making me the bad guy!”

“You're a fucking dark side, Virgil!”

“Deceit,” the first break, “You're the dar-”

Virgil's hand moved on its own to cover his own mouth. The second break.

There was only a moment's pause, Anxiety and Deceit with the same shocked looks on their faces, before the hand was slowly removed. No words were said, no dramatic exits were made; Anxiety simply turned around and left.

But later that night, when things were much more sorrowful calm, Deceit came to Anxiety's room. He was strangely vulnerable, not wearing a hat or suit jacket yet still keeping the gloves - not that it was surprising; even in the snake's pyjamas, he always wore the gloves.

They stood side by side against the edge of Anxiety's bed solemnly, almost as if they were reminiscing.

“One last deal, Anxiety.”

“Deceit.”

That's all that had to be said, yet just that made Anxiety choke up with blurry eyes. He would never be Virgil again, but strangely enough, that wasn't the only reason for his sudden sadness.

He was going to miss saying his name, the name of what some might call Anxiety's abuser (though that word felt a bit too extreme on his tongue). He was going to miss saying a name in general, because there was no way he'd ever be trusted with one ever again. Although, the light sides seem to be a bit more carefree about names.

Anxiety was supposed to feel free after breaking the deal with Ci- Deceit, but he just felt trapped in a whole new way.

“So a video, huh?”

“Hello to you too, Deceit.” This was the first time Anxiety was seeing, much less talking to Deceit in the last two years, yet he had a feeling the snake would give him a visit today. “Thanks for popping into my room uninvited, totally appreciated.”

Deceit chose to ignore the comment. “You seemed to be acting quite antagonistic out there.”

“Yeah, kinda had to. How else would I ever get the guy to listen to me?” Oh. Shit.

The scaly side smiled wickedly. “Sounds familiar, doesn't it?” Something about this was… off. This wasn't the same Deceit, and Anxiety's not sure if it's better or worse. (Worse. Always worse.)

Wait. “What the hell is with the new costume? You look like a wannabe Disney villain.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, but then gave a low, breathy laugh. He even sounded like a Disney villain. “You see, Anxiety, I've had a change of heart somewhat recently, and I thought I should give you some credit.

Anxiety raised a brow. “Your change of heart requires you to dress like you're gonna give a girl a poison apple?”

“You were right, all those years ago; I am officially a dark side.”

Oh, things would only go downhill from here.

“Did he keep coming after that?” Logan asked from his spot on the edge of the couch.

“After every damn video, pretty much.” Virgil started counting on his fingers. “Telling me what I'm doing wrong, how I'm making Thomas's life worse, saying I'm just like him, taunting me about my crush-” Roman's hand tightened around Virgil's at that one, making him smile just slightly.

“How long has it been?” Patton asked worriedly, pressing against Virgil's side. “He doesn't still bug you, right Kiddo?”

Virgil shook his head. “He stopped showing up after I revealed my name.” When he first heard the others call them Virgil, a sick feeling developed with the pleasant feelings he was having. It almost felt wrong to hear it come from someone else, and he knew there was another name he would never get out of his head.

“Was he there before you… you know?” Roman whispered. He was trying to be respectful as possible, but Virgil could sense the bit of anger in his words.

The anxious side had to let out a laugh at that. “He popped up, saw me crying on the floor, and left without a word. He definitely didn't know what I was gonna do.”

Logan hummed. “But doesn't he see almost everything? He could have stopped you once he did.”

He's… never thought about that before.

Noticing Virgil's discomfort, the logical side changed the subject. “Why do you think he suddenly changed his opinion on himself and began using the ‘dark side’ label?”

“Honestly? No clue, but here's a fun fact. I looked up his name once.” He didn't tell any of them the actual name, mostly because it would break their final deal but also because Virgil was a bit selfish and wanted to still be the only one with that knowledge. “His name literally just means 'dark.’ It's kinda sad, if you think about it.”

“And why do you think he's been doing all these somewhat nice things for us suddenly? Is he trying to gain our trust so he can manipulate us, too?” He knew telling Roman all this would forever shape his opinion on the snake to be only evil, but that was just how Roman's mind worked.

“I wish I knew. L, any theories?”

“Well, while it may just be he simply wants to have more control over Thomas once again, I have… another hypothesis as well.” Logan used the hand he didn’t have intertwined with Patton's to adjust his glasses. “There was obviously a time Deceit cared for you, Virgil. Perhaps, and this really is just a hypothesis, he still does, but knows an apology would never be enough to fix things. In response, he comes up with a plan. Step one of that plan is to gain some of your trust back by doing good deeds for your friends.”

Virgil groaned, burying his face in his hands- well, hand, as Roman was definitely not letting go of the other one anytime soon. “Can we talk about this later? I don't want to think about this anymore.”

“Of course, Kiddo. We'll continue this later, whenever you're ready to talk more.” Patton wrapped his arms around the anxious side in a warm hug. “I'm so proud of you, for telling that story and living it. Don't you ever forget that, okay?”

“I won't.” Virgil hugged the father figure back gratefully. “Thanks, Pat.”

“I am not one to dwell on the past, but…” Logan reached over to put a hand on Virgil's shoulder. “I'm glad that despite everything you've been through, you were led here.”

“I am, too.”

Later that night, in Creativity's room, Virgil had himself wrapped in his boyfriend's arms. This was a typical occurrence, sure, but something about this instance felt different. Virgil felt... like he was being protected, more so than usual.

Maybe Deceit never truly knew what it meant to protect someone because he never felt protected himself.

“You know I'm never gonna trust that snake now, right?” Roman suddenly spoke into Virgil's shoulder. “And you bet I'm never letting him around you alone again.”

“Yeah,” Virgil sighed. He wanted to say the same, but he wasn't sure if that was true. If Deceit ever really did want to be redeemed…

“Do you ever miss him?”

“Why?” Virgil moved away just enough so he could look at Roman with a taunting face. “You jealous or something?”

Roman made a noise of protest, an offended hand pressed against his chest. “I don't get jealous! I really am just curious. I know you weren't quite friends, but you two clearly had some empathy for each other, right?”

“I don't miss him anymore, but…” the anxious side let out a sigh. “He was pretty much the only side who bothered to talk to me. He trusted me when everyone else hated me. And yeah, he made me feel like shit, but he was the only one there to make me feel better, too. The years between now and that fight were possibly worse than my time with him.”

There was a pause before Roman wrapped his arms tightly around Virgil. It wasn't the same protective grip from before, but something much sadder and one the anxious side had grown quite used to. It was of guilt and fear, it said I'm not leaving and please don't leave at the same time.

“I'm sorry,” Roman whispered. They've found in their months of dating that the romantic side was not good at comforting people. He was a man of action, striking at anything who dares to hurt him or the people he loves, but Virgil's problems are different. You can't strike panic attacks or, in this case, years of neglect with a sword.

Recently, they've been developing more systems that work for them, including nonverbal communication methods. Virgil taps against Roman's back three times, making the romantic side loosen the embrace. For most couples, that would symbolize something like I love you. He’s seen Logan doing the same thing to Patton a couple times.

For them, though, it has grown to have many meanings depending on context, but it's always relating to a phrase Patton once told them:

The past is just a story, and the ending is what you make it.

@paleblue-dots you said I could tag you in my writing so hi

#tw deceit #sanders sides #thomas sanders #prinxiety #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #roman sanders #fanfic

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desdinovas · 6 years

Text

untitled - part nine

not my gif

pairing: ceo!tom x female reader

warnings: none that i can think of

word count: 2K

notes: a lot of y’all have been asking me to make this series longer than 15 parts and i’m sorry to say this but i can’t make the story go on forever lmao so 15 parts will have to do

series masterlist

add yourself to my taglist!

"I really appreciate you guys doing this," you said as you gave Nikki and Dom each a quick hug. Tom had asked his parents out to lunch with you that Monday. This was one of the final steps you really needed to take to finish up your paper and you were eager to learn a little about him from the people who arguably knew him the best.

Tom gave his dad a one-armed hug but his mother didn't let him get away so easily. They exchanged cheek kisses and he murmured something inaudible in her ear.

When you went to pull out your chair and sit down, Tom's fingers grazed yours gently in a fleeting moment before realizing he has crossed a line. He grasped onto the chair and pulled it out for you and as you sat down, he pushed it in slightly. "Of course, sweetie." Nikki smiled and sat down herself. Tom sat down next to you and you felt his leg brush against yours as he adjusted his jacket. But again, he pulled away too soon. Was he testing the boundaries? You had noticed that the physical tension between you was growing stronger with each passing day. After you all had put in your orders, you pulled your laptop out and opened a fresh document. "So what can we help you with, (y/n)?" Dom asked. He leaned into the back of his chair and clasped his hands together on the table. It was body language you recognized, and realized that Tom often sat in that same position. "I have most of my paper completed," you started. "But I am missing one crucial part; his childhood." You glanced over to Tom, who fixed his eyes on his hands as he listened. His parents both smiled fondly. "So, what was Tom like when he was younger?" Nikki smiled and scrunched her nose up. "He was a goofy little guy. He was always finding new ways to have fun," she recounted. "Or get in trouble," Dom added. "He and his brothers used to get in trouble. I remember one time-" "Dad, please," Tom shook his head. You rolled your eyes. "Come on, a good story could really help me out," you pleaded. The pleading didn't help. He stood his ground with a straight face. "I just want one instance of you being 'goofy'.” You laughed. "I never would have used that word to describe you." His expression lightened a little and you saw a mischievous twinkle in his eye that came along with a little smirk. It was as if he was hiding something, a whole lifetime of stories that would blow your mind. Something to prove you wrong. But he wasn't going to let you in on it. Not quite yet. "One time I walked out of our house and found this boy in our swimming pool with his bicycle," Dom rolled his eyes with a grin. "Who decides that riding a bike into a pool is a good idea?" He shook his head as he laughed. "Only Tom." "That was hardly my childhood," Tom protested. "I was nineteen years old." "It was childish behavior." Tom shook his head as he looked over at you. "Don't even think about it," he warned. "Come on!" You laughed. "That's funny!" "No," was his stern response. "Okay... when did he get into music?" You changed the subject. "He actually couldn't care less about it at one point," his dad noted and you raised your eyebrows in surprise. You couldn't imagine a world in which Tom didn't live and breathe music. "Eventually it piqued his interest and once he got even kind of good at the guitar, we couldn't get it out of his hands." Your eyes wandered over to Tom and you saw the most subtle smile on his face. That's when the waiter interrupted you, placing steaming plates of food in front of each of you and refilling your water glasses. "There were times when we really just needed the noise to stop, but there was no stopping him." Nikki agreed. "I'd take listening to the same three notes over and over again at all hours over something risky or dangerous." "That's great," you nodded and typed the stories into your document before taking a bite of your sandwich. You all focused on your meal for a few minutes before they had anything else to add. "Oh, and just the cutest thing ever was just how secretive he was about the whole thing!" His mum laughed. "He wanted to keep it all to himself, and he was a little-" "Cocky," Dom finished her sentence and that made Tom scoff with his mouth full. He swallowed and wiped the corners of his mouth with the cloth napkin before arguing. "That's harsh," he replied. "(y/n)-" "I know," you groaned jokingly. That wasn't something you were allowed to include, so you hit the backspace button a few times with dramatically hard taps. "But that changed," his dad credited him. "And as he got older, he got more and more interested in the behind the scenes music stuff. And now here we are, mister successful CEO and part-time producer. I'm proud of you, son." He reached across the table to pat his son's arm. Tom nodded and thanked his dad before he checked his watch. "We need to be going. I have an important meeting to get to." He stood up and said his goodbyes before paying the full bill. You packed your things away and thanked the two of them profusely for the information. In the car on the way back to his office, Tom was quiet as usual. He straightened the cuffs of his shirt and twisted the rings on his fingers, and every once in awhile he'd take a breath in like he was about to say something, but then decided not to.

Finally, he spoke up. "Do you have everything you need?" He asked. "I think so," you nodded. "Thank you." "What for?" He raised one eyebrow quizzically. You tilted your head as you looked at him. "I don't know... for not shooting down every story they told, I guess. It's nice to have some actual content for a change." "Mmm," came his default response, and one of his hands dropped down onto the seat between you. It was only millimeters away from your own hand and you could feel his warmth. He didn't pull away, either. And then you felt it, the anticipation growing and the butterflies in your stomach. Now more than ever, you just wanted to finish this damn paper and close that gap between the two of you.

"I really should go home and finish writing." You told Tom seriously. You were sitting in his office after 5 pm on a Friday where you should have been on the beach with Lindsay and your other friends.

"You're still not done?" He questioned.

"Do you think we'd still be sitting six feet apart if I were finished?" You teased and took a bite of your salad you had ordered. "So we're really having our dinner at your office?"

"I have no choice, (y/n)." He reminded you with his mouth full. "If I don't finish filling out this form my client won't get the studio next week and her client goes on tour and needs to finish."

"Okay," you raised my hands up. "I've been trying to keep you company." You reached over to get out your laptop.

You began to eye Tom's intense expression and his lack of movement. "Are you thinking?" You asked him as you typed.

"Very hard." He replied and stood up. "I'm going to run down the hall to pick up a few copies. I'll be back."

"Okay," you said with a nod and continued to write. You were so close to being finished, you could taste it. You had written it almost entirely out of order. You wrote the things you learned as you learned them, meaning you hadn't written his childhood until a few days ago.

He came back in swiftly and handed you a cookie. "Here," he stuck it out.

"What is this for?" You asked him as you took it.

"For staying with me." He replied.

You took it from him and broke it in half. "Share it with me." You handed half of it back to him.

"(y/n), it's yours." He said as he went to sit down.

"I wanna share it, don't be so gruff." You rolled your eyes and got up from your place to hand it to him.

"(y/n), really?" He looked at you incredulously.

"What?" You brought his half of the cookie up to his mouth and he looked at you disapprovingly before taking a small bite.

"Sometimes you're like a child." Tom said as he licked his lips.

You admired his features and shrugged. "Sometimes it's good to be a child. Let loose and have some fun."

He gave you an odd look and then moved his mouth forward to take another bit of the cookie in your hand. There was still a small piece left of his part and before he reached for it you put it in your mouth with a smirk.

"You are such a child." His smile grew and he turned away, "I thought we were splitting it."

"I changed my mind?" You shrugged and walked back over to your seat.

"Can I read it?" He nodded his head towards your laptop.

You made a face. "Do you really want to?"

"I'd like to." He responded, "it is about me after all."

"But I'm just hesitant."

"Why is that?" He questioned as he filled out paper work.

"Well, I like how it's turned out. And I don't want you getting any last minute idea's of 'you can't use that', you know?" You shrugged and kept typing.

"It's about me." He repeated.

"I'm aware, Tom." You looked over to him, "I'll allow you to read after I'm done."

"Is something in there that I don't approve of?" He retorted.

"You think after all I've been through with you and getting you to open up that I'd jeopardize my entire paper for the sake of putting something in you wanted kept a secret?" You scoffed, "Tom, if you told me you didn't want it, I didn't put it."

"Then why can't I read it?" He asked again.

"Because you like to keep things private for a time and so do I. My writing isn't read by anyone but me until I hand it to them. I keep it private until it's finished."

"I have shared so much with you." He guilt-ed you.

"Tom, come on." You crossed your arms. "It was like pulling teeth getting you to tell me most of this stuff."

"But I did." He answered with his eyebrows raised.

"Yes, you did." You sighed heavily, "Just- let me keep this to myself."

His gaze remained steady on you, "(y/n)."

"Jeez," you rolled your eyes. "My name is (y/n/n), why do you insist on always being different?" You stared at him. "And why do you get to be private but I can't be? I've told you so much about me. You've told me with time. And now this one thing I just want to wait until I'm finished and you're pressuring me to tell you. I've never pressured you out of a fear for you yelling at me."

"Maybe because I'm anxious for it to be done." He replied, "I don't like having things written about me I don't know about or haven't read. This has been killing me."

"Well, you're going to have to wait a bit longer." You answered and began to pack up your things.

"(y/n)- (y/n/n)," he shook his head. "Where are you going?"

"Home." You answered. "It's better that I go home and finish this in silence."

He didn't answer. He let you walk out and onto the sidewalk and then you realized you didn't have a ride. Lindsay wasn't home. Tyler was with her at the beach. Everyone was at the beach. And you wasted your last spring break working. You hailed a cab.

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#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland + reader #tom holland + fem!reader #ceo!tom

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