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raynewolfegirl · 16 days

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Meta Jazz, the Arkham Intern Therapist Pt 2.1

Note: The writing bug bit me while wading through the comments and replies so you guys get more! 😁 Special thanks to @the-scarecrow-of-aus & @starlightcat04 for helping spark this continuation!

Also, so you're not confused, this part is from Kon's POV and backtracks to before the Bane incident to explain how Kon started going undercover in Arkham. Pt 2.2 has the Bane incident from Kon's POV.

~*~*~

When Kon got the call from Tim asking if he'd be willing to do a favor for him, he hadn't expected it to be an undercover assignment in the infamous Arkham Asylum itself.

"You want me to do what?" He asked staring at Tim in disbelief once he reached the Nest to debrief.

"Go undercover as a new guard in Arkham." Tim repeated with a deadpan expression looking over his shoulder at Kon from his computer chair. Holy fuck, his eyebags were bad.

"Have you slept in the past week, Tim?" Kon asked, taking in his best friend's appearance.

Tim frowned at the question.

"I don't see how that's relevant but yes." He answered, heartbeat unchanging. Which didn't really mean anything since it was Tim but Kon decided he'd believe him.

For now.

Kon sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Okay, I'll do it." He said. "Can you tell me why we need someone undercover at least?"

Tim eyes widened, startled by the question like he was surprised Kon didn't know yet even though Tim hadn't told him yet. Okay, deep breaths, calm down, Tim clearly hasn't slept in at least two days. Kon coached himself as his temper flared up at the evidence that Tim wasn't taking care of himself again. All the Supers agreed: sometimes you just wish you could beat some sense into the Bats and make them take care of themselves like normal human beings.

"Ah. Right." Tim said, turning back to the computer and pulling up some files as he explained. "Two thing have occured within roughly fifteen days of each other that together are rather suspicious. First, Dr. Thomas Rylie, Jonathan Crane's undergraduate roommate and classmate throughout undergrad and grad school, was hired to work as one of the new in house psychiatrists at Arkham Asylum. They also got their doctorates from the same school during the same time frame and both focused on the impact fear has on the brain. Dr. Rylie's focus was on fear conditioning and Dr. Crane's focus was on fear responses." Well, that sounds suspicious.

"Second, Gotham University lost their minds and began an undergraduate and graduate internship program partnering with Arkham Asylum."

Kon went cold. They did what?

Pictures of the Asylum, University, and three people -presumably Scarecrow, Dr. Rylie, and a young woman- filled the computer screen now.

"The internship program has only one applicant so far and she'd already started working at the Arkham. Her name is Jasmine Fenton and her background is...sparse, to say the least." Tim turned in his chair to face Kon.

"I'm too recognizable in Gotham and among the rogues to successfully go undercover in Arkham so I've set you up with an apartment and ID as 'Kyle Jennings.' You're scheduled to start work at Arkham as a new guard tomorrow morning."

"Okay," Kon said with a nod. "What do you need confirmed? What are the primary objectives?" He prodded Tim again since his friend's sleep deprived brain seemed to think that was enough information for debriefing. It wasn't. Definitely not. A lot was implied but it wouldn't be the first time Tim had completely different intentions than what Kon had understood from his briefing. Sleep deprived Tim frequently assumed others could read his mind or something. Sleep deprived Tim was wrong.

"We need to determine if Dr. Rylie is here working for Scarecrow as part of some new scheme. We need to determine if Jasmine Fenton is complicit. We need to know if Gotham U is also in on it. And we need to find out what exactly Scarecrow is the planning." Tim stated automatically as he ticked each one off on his fingers.

"Got it. Guess I'll head over to my new apartment then and start prepping for tomorrow." Kon said, heading towards the exit. Tim hummed in agreement waving a hand in his direction as he left. That dumbass was probably already absorbed in the next case. Kon sighed, hopefully Tim would at least pass out sometime later tonight.

~*~*~

Kon's first day at Arkham wasn't anything special. He didn't see Jasmine, Dr. Rylie, or Scarecrow. He didn't see any rogues or doctors at all. It was just a really Gotham kind of orientation.

"This is where we keep a cache of stun grenades, long-range scope rifles, tranquilizer rounds, and rubber bullets." His new supervisor and guide through orientation, Alex Fhizer, said as he showed Kon how to access, inventory, lock, and re-conceal the cache. "Everytime you pass by a cache on patrol, you will check the inventory again and sign off on it with the date and time. If anything is different from the previous inventory entry, you will immediately radio the tower and the island will be put on lockdown." Greyish Hazel eyes peered out of a weathered face staring Kon down. "You will never neglect to inventory a cache while on patrol. You will never neglect to report an inventory discrepancy. The first time you do you will be fired immediately and you can count yourself damn lucky if that's all that happens to you."

Fhizer was intense, man.

"Yes, Sir." Kon answered. Fhizer's hard look lasted another long moment before the older man gave a firm nod and continued showing Kon the ropes.

~*~*~

The second day was no where near as chill as the first. Hell, his brain was already starting to warp, there hadn't been anything chill about that orientation.

Kon started his second day by boarding the Arkham transport bus with the rest of the staff and early morning visitors to the island. That was where he saw Jasmine Fenton in the flesh for the first time.

She has got to be part Amazonian, was his first thought upon seeing her. She was around 6ft tall with a thick mane of red hair tightly braided reaching all the way down to her waist. Jasmine was wearing teal stud earrings, a silver bangle type bracelet on her left wrist, a white blouse, black slacks, and black flats. She carried a small, clear purse that only held a small notepad, pen, house key, chapstick, and a thin teal wallet that presumably contained her IDs, debit cards, and a small amount of cash. Damn, she was tall.

Kon's concentration was broken by the quiet sound of metal crunching slightly beneath his fingers. He immediately loosened his grip on the hand rail, checking for damage with a wince. He breathed a soft sigh of relief when he saw the damage was almost entirely unnoticeable to the naked eye. He'd have to mind his strength more closely. Kon was too used to the farm and facilities that were all reinforced to handle casual use from people with super strength.

Tim's notes indicated Arkham wasn't reinforced for super strength anywhere. Not even along the outer walls. The facility had opted to use suppression collars on their meta inmates instead since they were cheaper and easier to repair and replace according to the official reports. However, Tim's notes had also mentioned that Arkham had reinforced the outer walls to account for super strength at one point. They'd poured nearly every dime the facility could spare into the project for months until the Joker himself had taken it personally. The madman had absolutely obliterated the reinforced outer walls until no part of them remained standing. Given Joker had destroyed the walls without having any meta powers at all and his history of viciously attacking -damn near mauling- anyone that tried to put him in a straight jacket, Kon didn't really blame Arkham for stopping while they were ahead.

Kon looked up as the bus jolted to a stop. The other passengers filing off around him. He watched as Jasmine Fenton was met by Dr. Rylie in front of the bus as he waited to disembark.

"Ms. Jasmine!" Dr. Rylie greeted her enthusiastically with a broad open grin and beaming eyes. He reached towards her with both arms, hands open and she reached back. Their right hands clasped as their left hands landed on the other's upper arms as the two greeted one another openly. Kon wasn't very familiar with intern-mentor relationships nor what would be considered normal or professional for them, but it looked like a rather affectionate greeting for them having been strangers two weeks ago. That was strange, wasn't it? Was Tim right to be worried about them?

"Ms. Jasmine is the first and only applicant for Dr. Rylie, Director Keener, and Dean Byle's hairbrained idea to hire more doctors for this place." One of the older guards that had been standing just behind him on the bus explained having apparently noticed Kon watching the pair.

"They just seemed rather affectionate for Gotham." Kon shrugged dismissively as he turned to look over his shoulder at his new colleague. The shorter man laughed.

"A bit, yeah." He agreed. "I think Dr. Rylie is just desperate for this program to work out." He continued as they finally managed to get off the bus. Dr. Rylie and Ms. Fenton were gone now. "Pretty much everyone's been treating her like a princess."

"That doesn't seem fair to everyone else." Kon commented, dropping back a bit to let the older man lead the way to the guards room for morning debriefing and to get their assignments. He'd already memorized the layouts but 'Kyle Jennings' shouldn't have yet.

"Who cares about fair as long as it works?" The guard answered. "If treating her like a princess scores more interns for the program in the long run, and if one intern every year ends up interested in sticking around, I'll be happy to cater to every single one of them." He confessed, stopping in the middle of the hall to turn and face Kon directly. Kon glimpsed the name Ryans as the silver name badge flashed the briefly reflecting the overhead lights. "You non-gothamites just don't get it. We're desperate for whatever help we can get."

"That's why I applied here." Kon lied. "Going to school across the bay, I heard a lot about what went down over here while I was in college. I want to help."

Ryans gave a short solemn nod then turned and led the rest of the way to the break room.

~*~*~

Day four undercover was when Kon officially met Jasmine Fenton.

Everything had been going well so far with his undercover assignment. He'd settled in to the role of Kyle Jennings, been getting along well with his new coworkers including Ryans and Fhizer, and hadn't yet managed to screw up inventorying the caches during the outer patrol loops. That being said, Kon was having other issues.

The worst part of being an unstable Kryptonian clone was that his strength tended to fluctuate. It normally wasn't much of an issue when he was surrounded by reinforced everything in his daily life but here at Arkham it was becoming a problem. Case in point, Kon thought to himself with an exhausted groan as his freshly made coffee mug shattered in his hand.

"Oh come on." He sighed snatching a handful of paper towels from the counter and bending to wipe up the coffee and ceramic shards on the floor. At least he was the only one in the room when it shattered. The door clicked softly behind him and Kon jumped twisting to look.

Jasmine Fenton stood behind him having just closed the door to the break room after entering.

"What happened here?" She asked, sounding bewildered with slightly wide eyes as she took in the mess on the floor. Thank God. She didn't see it.

"Guess I was a bit more tired than I thought." He said with a forced laugh in order to hide his nerves. "Slipped right through my fingers."

She nodded, accepting his words at face value.

"I've done that more than a few times close to finals." She admitted. "You guys have 10 hour shifts, right? You must be exhausted. When's your next day off?"

"The day after tomorrow." Kon said. "This is day 3 for me since orientation doesn't count."

"You get 2 days off followed by an on-call day, right?" She asked.

"Right," Kon agreed. "AKA 2 days of freedom and a day chained to the Bowery." He joked.

"Absolutely terrible, they may as well put an ankle monitor on you." She cracked back grinning. Kon snickered. The door opened again.

"I see you found another non-gothamite here." Dr. Rylie said striding into the break room with a wide grin.

"Sounds like that makes three of us." Kon agreed. Outside of Joker, he had never seen a gothamite grin that wide in his life.

"Dr. Thomas Rylie, a pleasure to meet you." Dr. Rylie introduced himself holding out his hand to shake. Kon shook his hand as gently as possible, mindful his strength was on the fritz.

"Kyle Jennings, nice to meet you. I just started as a guard earlier this week." He said then held his hand out to shake Jasmine's.

"Jasmine Fenton, I'm an intern therapist. This is my second week here." She greeted with a warm smile shaking Kon's hand. She didn't say anything about being glad to meet him, Kon noted. It wasn't exactly strange behavior but something made him take note of it anyway. Like by not saying it she was saying she hadn't decided whether meeting him was a good or bad thing yet. Dr. Rylie didn't seem to notice anything off with the interaction though as he went about making his own coffee. The three of them made idle small talk as they made their own coffees. Once his new cup was ready, Kon bid them both goodbye and went on his way. While they were his main objective, lingering too long this early into their aquantiantship would probably be strange.

He had several other small friendly interactions with both of them over the next few days. Taking the time for greetings, small talk, and sharing small bits of casual background info from Kyle Jennings's past to encourage them both to open up to him. He also broke a clipboard, two more coffee cups, several pens, and a doorknob during that time as his strength continued to fluctuate. The doorknob had been particularly embarrassing. He had gone to open the door for Jasmine when he saw her with her arms full of files and somehow managed to twist it in such a way that the screws holding it in place sheered off and the knob came off in his hand. Collins, his partner for building patrol that day, burst out laughing hysterically as Kon stared at the doorknob in horror.

"No worries, man." Collins said, clapping Kon on the shoulder still snickering. "Someone else probably broke it and put it back so they wouldn't get scolded or something."

"Yeah," Kon said with a nervous laugh. "That must be what happened."

Jasmine's eyes flicked between the two of them then she grinned.

"And here I thought you just really hated that door." She teased Kon. He felt his face heat up as Collins laughed at him again.

"It is an ugly door." Collins agreed enthusiastically smirking.

"Terribly ugly. Hideous even," Jasmine said with a smile.

"Possibly even traumatizing to behold," Collins continued to smirk.

"You've got me. I have a deep rooted traumatic fear of metal taupe doors." Kon deadpanned ears burning. Jasmine snickered as Kon got the door open for her and they went their separate ways.

~*~*~

"What have you found so far?" Tim asked. Kon did not have the words to express how much he didn't want to be at the Nest at 3am on his first day off from undercover work. If it was anyone other than Tim he wouldn't have even answered the phone.

"Literally nothing," Kon said dryly. "I am still the newest of newbies at Arkham. I practically spent the whole week being babysat by senior guardsmen." He sighed, reminding himself that it wasn't Tim's fault that he was a little insomniac goblin and that Kon really did love his friend and would be sad if he hurt Tim's feelings. Eventually. When he woke up again in the morning. "I did start befriending them both though. It's slow going since we're in different areas but nearly being the only non-gothamites there seems to be helping me make some headway at least."

There was one other non-gothamite on staff, a medical nurse named Sharon Earley. She was in her mid-thirties and the most sour and unpleasant person Kon had had the displeasure of meeting so far on Arkham's staff. Not that Kon could blame her for that. Not when she had several large ragged scars spanning from her chin and down both of her arms from when Zsazz had gotten hold of her alone after dark her second year at Arkham. It was a damn miracle she'd survived him. Kon didn't know how she managed it but he wouldn't try to find out either. Ryans had taken him aside right before he first met Nurse Earley and warned him not to stare or ask about any of it and then explained the bare basics of what happened to her after they'd left.

Tim probably had a file with every detail of that night as well as information about Sharon Earley's life both before and after that night somewhere on his computer. The thought made Kon nauseous.

"Good, good," Tim said absently as he updated the mission file on his computer. The keys clicked so rapidly that Kon again reconsidered whether or not his best friend had super speed. "Better to keep them from suspecting than to rush in anyway."

"Exactly."

Tim continued asking questions about every little detail he could think of concerning Dr. Rylie, Jasmine Fenton, and the rogues currently in Arkham.

"They don't let me near those guys yet. I'm too new." Kon said when Tim asked if Scarecrow looked to be plotting more than usual.

"They don't?" Tim sounded surprised, going so far as to stop typing so he could turn and stare at Kon. The clone was amused to note something about his statement had managed to wake Tim up enough to be visibly shocked instead blank-faced with exhaustion.

"Of course not," Kon answered trying to keep the amusement from his voice as much as possible. "As many times as your rogues have broken out they're leary of letting new hires near them in case they're goons in disguise."

Tim sank back into his chair looking like Kon had uprooted his whole world by proving the Earth really was flat via actual science.

"That's impossible." Tim said sounding faint. "Everytime there's a mass breakout, we always hear that some of the guards helped them escape. How?..." He trailed off, eyes darting rapidly like he was tracking lines of an invisible conspiracy board in the air in front of him. Kon shrugged, uncomfortable with this new information.

"Scuttlebutt is that the people helping them escape are visitors. The guards get blamed because the goons visit wearing clothes similar to the guard uniform from a distance. All blue polo shirts and black pants look similar at a distance." Kon explained. "It also doesn't help that the guards can't really do much to stop the escape attempts since they only have stun grenades, tranquilizer darts, batons, low voltage tazers, and rubber bullets to fight back with. So as long as enough people are involved in the escape attempt at least some of them will make it out even if the guards manage to to tranquilize several of them."

Tim still looked like Kon was blowing his mind. It was such a rare experience that Kon had to continue.

"Plus the tranquilizer darts and the rubber bullets have to be fired from different hardware." Kon told him. "Which sucks because you have to carry twice the amount of weight while chasing after the escapees which slows you down and it takes longer to swap between them."

There was something similar to mystified horror spreading across his friend's face now.

"Speaking if swapping between them, they have different ranges too." Kon continued gleefully. Half because it was fun wrecking Tim's worldview and half to actually impart the information. "Batons are short-range. Tranquilializer darts and stun grenades are mid-range. Rubber bullet riffles are long-range."

"If that's all it is, WE can fund then better gear to control the inmates." Tim interrupted turning back to the computer and swiftly typing out a list of things to send Arkham. Kon shook his head.

"That won't work." He disagreed gently. "They aren't failing because of the gear itself."

Tim turned back around to face him, confused. This was not going to be a fun conversation, Kon swallowed hard and forced himself to continue.

"The problem is that if you fire the rubber bullet riffles from mid or short range you could seriously injury or even kill the patient. If they get past mid-range, you'll miss them completely using tranquilizer darts or stun grenades. If you try to use either of those at short-range it'll be bad for you whether it's because they'll get hold of you before the tranquilizer knocks them out or because you'll stun yourself too."

Comprehension and trepidation began to dawn on Tim's face. He deflated in his chair, sinking lower and lower as he stared off into nowhere.

"You also can't hit them with more than one tranquilizer dart in a four hour window because you could accidently kill them that way. That also means even though you have a baton, you typically can't do enough damage to them to keept them from escaping because that might potentially kill them." Kon said completely solemn now as he relayed the information. "Because regardless of the reputation Arkham has or what the patients have done, it is still a hospital and they are still patients."

Tim was staring directly at Kon now. Mouth open, face slack, eyes wide with a kind of numbed shock. Kon held his gaze.

"Yeah," Kon said after a moment. "Yeah, that's how I reacted too." He looked down, picking at his nails for a moment before forcing himself to stop and meet Tim's gaze again. "Phizer, my new 'boss', made sure to drill that into my head during orientation. 'Arkham's guards exist first and foremost to protect the patients. Arkham isn't supposed to be a prison. It's a medical facility. The patients are confined to the premises because their affliction has made them dangerous and they have to stay so that we can keep them and others safe from further harm. We are here to keep the patients and staff from hurting each other, themselves, or being hurt by people outside of Arkham's walls.' Not gonna lie, man." Kon said quirking a bitter grin as his did. "Hearing that kind of fucked me up a bit."

Tim sucked in a huge heaving breath then slowly let it out before he responded.

"I can't say I ever thought about it like that." He admitted in a soft strained voice. "Can't say I ever wanted to either." There was a bitter tinge to his words.

"Yeah, neither did I." Kon answered, shoulders slumping a bit. "Was there anything else you wanted to ask me? I kind of want to head back and sleep a bit."

Tim shook his head slowly.

"No, I think we're good at the moment." He said looking twice as exhausted and drained now as he did when Kon first got there. Kon nodded.

"Good night then. I'll see you later, man." He said, pushing off the wall he'd been leaning against and heading for the door.

"Be safe, Kon." Tim answered softly turning back to his computer.

#Meta Jazz Arkham Intern Therapist #Meta Jazz #Arkham Intern Therapist #MJAIT #AIT #Meta Jazz AIT #dc x dp #dcxdp #dp x dc #dpxdc #Jazz/Kon #Eventually that's the goal anyway #Side note I do not headcanon Arkham this way #But Jazz went through her 'I can fix them' stage during high school #And in my experience most people don't try to 'fix others' again after they fail the first several times #Jack & Maddie definitely weren't fixed in this story #So I couldn't see her willingly interning at Arkham if it was actually like how it is in DCU #Since the internship program is optional #Which begged the question why everyone thinks Arkham is Like That #So Kon gave you the answer #Also sorry if he's really OOC #I have never written his POV before and finding a voice for him was hard #Tim's shit got rocked #tw: cursing #my Kon curses because he's through his rebellious stage already but linguistic habits stuck around #Oh yeah #and his powers are fluctuating because the density of the smog and cloud layer over Gotham is constantly changing #my original post

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doobea · 10 months

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I CAN MAKE YOUR BED ROCK - RIN ITOSHI

synopsis: You're a famous online smut author, married to an international superstar athlete, and everyone around you thinks you have the perfect sex life. What they don't realize is Rin sleeps in the guest room and you're still very much a virgin.

contents: fem!reader, explicit content (fingering, fondling, heavy petting, public indecency, and makeout sessions), suggestive themes, mainly written in rin's pov, characters are all in their mid/late-20s, his teammates are just trying to help (not really), romcom, he has a therapist!!, idk probably secondhand embarrassment, mutual pinning and they are both awk, mdni word count: 3K a/n: tbh i actually have no idea how to write smut scenes so apologies in advance ps due to popular demand... there IS a taglist below haha just comment on the fic if you want to be added to the next batch c:

二 : Baby, wanna spend it all on you -> prev. ->next.

When Rin thought about his life after college, he'd imagine things a certain way. He'd expected to move abroad, a new city, a new life. He'd expected to play alongside his older brother and for a football team of a different caliber, offering different techniques and skill levels that would promote a challenge to him.

What he didn’t expect was staying in Japan, getting married by the age of 24, playing alongside his teammates from the Blue Lock academy, and representing his nation in the upcoming world cup. It wasn't bad by his standards, just not ideal - more so over the team rather than the location and marriage, surprisingly. He's currently stuck with the same teammates that love to tease him endlessly. But a voice in his head tells him that they're probably the only people who could mesh well with his play style; so he tolerates them.

Here's what Rin Itoshi's teammates know about him: he's married to a famous author, he's fluent in English, he's the most Virgo man out there, he always keeps his phone on 'Do Not Disturb', and his favorite movie is The Shining.

And here's what they don't know about him: he's in an arranged marriage, he's madly in love with you so much to the point where he has all your favorite food orders listed in his notes app, he carries around a physical signed copy of one of your novels at all times (you have no clue and he's never going to tell you), and he's a virgin.

Shocker!

Not many people could crack Rin and not many try. The football player had a reputation for being anti-social, rude, and extremely blunt. But Isagi Yoichi is not like many people. Being one of his long-time teammates (friend - Isagi would like to correct him from time to time), he would always find a way to make Rin slip up more details about his 'top-secret' life. It wouldn't always work and often times the conversation will end with Rin kicking a ball to his head - ouch.

But today felt different, Rin had noticed the shorter male peering at him with mischief laced in his eyes when he had walked onto the training grounds early morning. Rin was prepared to kick the ball extra hard this time around.

"What genre does your wife usually write?" Isagi asks nonchalantly as he begins routine stretches on the turf.

"Why does that matter to you?" Rin bites back while doing his own sets of warm-ups next to him.

Isagi is unfazed and continues, "I've been trying to find something new to read nowadays. It's hard to find good books!"

Sarcasm, Rin notices.

"Even if you did read her books, I highly doubt you'd understand the words."

"Pfft, what does she write physics textbooks or something?"

Before Rin could even insult back, he hears a loud bang from the locker room and one of his teammates running out. Karasu jogs to the field and Rin feels all the color wash off his face. In Karasu's hands held the physical copy of your best-selling novel, 'Pleasure Master Prejudice', the book that Rin always carries in his sports bag.

Suddenly, Rin wants to take back all the harsh insults he's said to his team's face. He starts praying, half expecting the football player to run towards him with flowers instead of your dirtiest erotica story known to man, he will repent all of his sins in this moment.

"Yo," Karasu smirks and waves the book around for everyone else to see, "check out what I found on the locker room floor!"

Rin makes a mental note that he is definitely going to schedule an emergency call with his therapist later.

Otoya is first to make a beeline toward the taller player, immediately snatching the book from his hands and flipping through the pages. "Holy shit, this is nasty!"

"Wait let me see–"

Rin blinks in disbelief as he watches his team of fully grown men scramble to the center of the field, all of them attempting to read out loud the pages and giggling like little schoolgirls. At this point, Rin thinks that the higher beings are out to get him.

"Gross! Gross!" Ranze chokes at the print.

"Guys, what the fuck is a vulva?" Igarashi screeches.

"Read this one, Reo." Nagi eagerly points to a paragraph on the bookmarked page and everyone laughs.

Reo suppresses his laughter and clears his throat, "He spreads my dripping cunt wide with his slender digits, eyes keeping in lock with mine as he hovers over my voluptuous ti–"

"Can you guys fucking stop?!"

All turn to face their redden-faced striker, surprised by the volume coming from his usual monotone voice. Rin is also surprised himself. A pregnant silence falls over the team followed by the sounds of the book cover closing.

"Was that yours?" Isagi finally says.

He can't find the energy or space to punt a dozen footballs in everyone's face so today, safe to say, Rin leaves practice early.

"What brings you in today?" Anri adjusts her glasses and steadies her clipboard in her lap before looking into the camera. "It must've been pretty serious for you to call me last minute."

The football player sinks into the living room couch and tilts the laptop screen back to avoid looking at his agitated expression. He usually schedules weekly therapy sessions every Monday to decompress from his work stress and improve his social anxiety, but today is Friday and he needed Anri to hear him out. He's thankful that her schedule turned out to be flexible last minute and equally as glad that you were currently out drafting another story at a nearby cafe.

"I think I need to move out of the country or just disappear for good." He groans into his hands.

"Rin," She says with a controlled tone, "what triggered this event? Tell me how you're feeling right now."

He bites his lips, "My team knows that I read erotica." Rin shyly admits.

Anri hums on the screen, scribbling her thoughts down on the notepad, "And how does that make you feel?" She repeats.

Embarrassed? Ashamed? He didn't know where to start. He can handle the flack from his teammates tomorrow as cringe as it was today but the main reason why he feels the way he does is–

"It reminds me how I'm being physically avoidant in my marriage."

"Ah," Anri beams as if she's found gold, and Rin hears her flipping through her notepad, "are you two still talking? How long has it been since that incident?"

"A week. I'm still not sure what inclined her to go into my room since we usually keep things separate. We both chose to not talk about it and things have more or less gone back to normal."

"But is that what you want?"

"No," He removes his hands and glances at a framed wedding portrait above the fireplace, "but I'm not sure how to initiate anything with my wife. She doesn't know that I read her stories and I'm not sure if she picks up that I'm inexperienced."

"Do you think reading her published works will help you gain confidence in how you approach her?"

Rin hums in deep thought. He only started reading your novels and short stories around eight months back out of curiosity on a slow practice day. When you guys initially got together, he never really asked about your background due to his ignorance of 'she's probably just another YA novelist'. So, when he typed in your alias into the search bar, he was absolutely taken aback by how lewd and explicit everything was. He felt a sense of insecurity knowing that you've probably had most of these acts done to you (how else were you able to write a detailed bondage scenario) and he couldn't live up to that nor see your evident disappointment if you ever find out that you're his first everything.

"Not sure." Rin answers.

Anri flashes the male a pondering look in her eyes before deciding to leave the lingering topic for their Monday session. They briefly exchange their goodbyes, ending the call with her advice of 'trying to approach things in her shoes', Rin isn't exactly sure what Anri meant by that.

A light buzz comes from the coffee table and he sees your contact flash in his notifications. He sometimes feels like you're taunting him with your comedic timings.

my love hey babe if you're free later do you wanna come shopping with me?

It's already been one hell of a day, why not relax in some retail therapy with your wife? Maybe he can try to attempt whatever Anri was suggesting.

When you told him to meet you at the new corner store located next to a ceramics store, Rin was half expecting it to be another bookstore or beauty outlet. Never in a million years would he have predicted that you brought him to a sex shop of all places.

The boutique is painted in blotches of purple and black circles with two towering rose bushes on either side. Grey mannequins are on display by the arched windows facing the street and they are covered from head to toe in a series of lace, leather, and chain underwear sets. And he spots you, already inside the store staring intensely at your phone with your tote bag in hand before locking eyes and sending over a coy smile.

Rin has been in many unpredictable and hard situations, in football of course, but he couldn't see where this outcome might lead. He finds the strength to wave back after gawking for who knows how long, unaware of his sweat-covered palms, and steps inside a world he's alarmingly unaware of.

"Did you wait long?" He manages to remain composed and refuses to look anywhere else but your face.

"Nope," You reach out to interlock your fingers with his, "I just got here a minute ago. How was practice?"

Rin can't help but roll his eyes, "Wasn't the best, let's talk about something else?" And you nod. "Did you need anything from here, hon?"

"Ah, well..." You scratch your flushed cheeks in thought before nudging him towards the floral pattern-laced body suits in the corner. "I want to incorporate something similar in my writings but I want a personal opinion of them first."

Suddenly, Anri's words pop up in his mind again. How could he see himself in your shoes and what should his response be? Was this strictly for your work or is there a hidden meaning behind it, he thinks to himself. Before he could provide you an answer, a male sales associate interrupts.

"That's a wonderful choice, miss!" The blond male's voice booms through the store’s walls as he struts his way over, wearing a pair of obnoxiously shiny brown loafers, tight black leather pants a size too small, and a white collared shirt with the first two buttons popped open, exposing just a bit of chest hair, "Our Forget-Me-Not Floral collection is seasonal right now and it's been a fan favorite since release!"

“Oh!” Your eyes sparkle at the fact, “May I try a few on?”

Rin feels oddly annoyed, and it's a different type of annoyance compared to Isagi and the rest of his team. He subconsciously tightens the grip around your hand but doesn’t say anything.

The male nods vigorously and shuffles through the drawers, quickly selecting the most revealing ones that the collection has to offer. There was hardly any coverage other than thin white straps and embroidered flowers barely covering where the breasts and vagina would be. Why is this boutique charging so much for something that covers so little? But for some reason, you didn’t seem to mind and happily took the associate’s suggestions.

“Plenty of people like to get the nightgown version, but these are my personal favorites.”

“Thank you so much um—”

The male winks, “Chris Prince.”

And Rin thinks to himself, what an obnoxious name for an obnoxious guy.

You swiftly march yourself to the dressing room with the items in hand, assuring Rin that it’ll only be a short while, and he takes a seat on their small ottoman right outside. He feels Chris’ gaze burn at the back of his head but he pays no mind to it - Rin didn't want to cause headlines tomorrow on top of the series of unfortunate events for today. So, to busy himself, he pulls out his phone and texts you instead.

Rin "Everything alright?" my love "Yes! Getting it on is a bit challenging, trying to figure that out rn haha" Rin "I’m sure it’ll look fine regardless how you wear it" my love "Thanks, Rin :) "

Another notification comes through making Rin frown immediately as he recognizes the name of the sender.

shithead "We’re still cool?" Rin "Fuck off, Isagi." shithead "Lol glad to hear that. See you at practice tomorrow then?" Rin "Sleep with one eye open tonight."

“Hey, honey?” Your voice calls out in the distance, “Could you help me with something real quick?”

He isn't sure what's more revealing - the fact that you're practically almost naked with just lines of sheer fabric barely covering anything up or the face he's making right now. You seem to catch on to his discomfort and quickly hug the front part of your body with your shirt, mumbling an apology afterward. He rushes to close the dressing room curtains, hoping the weird sales associate isn't listening in.

"I can't get the neck part to look right..." You turn around slowly, exposing your bare back and bottom. He thinks you should've worn a hospital gown because this might be too much for his little innocent heart to handle.

Rin feels a lump forming in his throat and knots churning in his stomach while trying to take everything in. He couldn't help his wandering eyes and stood there for a bit, simply admiring what was in front of him. "You look amazing." And it comes out breathier than what he wanted it to.

This is the first time he's seen you almost naked and, the fact it's in a lingerie store, makes him feel terrible as a partner. This brings him back to Anri's wise words from today's session and the past eight months of solid 'research' he's conducted.

Your body flinches at the touch of his slender fingers reaching for the two strands dangling around your neck that were failing to support your breasts. You feel your face reaching concerning levels of warmth as Rin moves closer, his chest practically pressing up from behind, whispering that he needed to get this knot just right. Your eyes go wide when you peer into the mirror, catching Rin's sudden sharp expression and you could've sworn his eyes went dark.

"Is this okay?" His hands rest on your shoulders and looks into the reflection with you, appreciating the finalized look. You gently drop the t-shirt to the floor, mouth agape. The sheer, embroidered cups now fit your breasts perfectly and the bottoms are snug against your lower half but still breathable. The lace hugged and accentuated your curves just right without it being too over the top.

Suddenly, you feel painfully small in his presence.

"Y-Yeah, thanks."

Rin hums in contentment before placing shyly his hands on either side of your hips, "Is this also okay?" He drawls, breath hitting against your ears.

You merely nod in response, having a loss for words at the sudden boldness, and melt into your husband's touch. You screw your eyes shut as his hands sweep lower, fingertips brushing the fabric of the bodysuit and barely skimming your exposed thighs. He stops over where your lower region resides and presses gently against it.

"Rin," It comes out as a whisper.

He kisses your temple and smiles against your skin, "Try and be quiet, my love."

Rin's fingers continue to press against your mound with increasing intensity and you struggle to hold back any form of reaction. His other hand travels from your hips to your breast, giving it a small squeeze.

"They're so soft." He continues to grope, playing with your nipple through the lace fabric, and you feel as if your head is filled to the brim with static.

You find yourself grinding against his fingers, trembling and panting out the quietest of moans you can. "Please." It sounds ragged and raw to Rin's ears.

He tilts your head back by the jaw and sloppily pushes his tongue down your throat. Your desperate hands immediately reach for his hair and the other down to feel for his aching length growing against his pants.

"Grind against it." Rin grits through his teeth, fluttering his eyes shut as you did what he's told and he feels like his body is burning alive.

Rin ravages your lips once more and, feeling a surge of confidence, he slides the bottom of the bodysuit to one side, allowing his digits to fully feel the extent of his work. You moan loudly into his mouth, tears of pleasure forming at the corners of your eyes. He takes that as permission to enter into your folds and the texture and scent emitting from it is addicting to his senses.

"You're so wet."

"It's because of you."

His lips find their way to your shoulders and his hand on your chest grip tight against your now trembling figure as he rapidly pumps in and out of your folds. Your hands clamp over your mouth as a burning sensation tightly builds up.

"It's okay," He murmurs, "you don't have to hold back."

And just at the right angle, you watch as fireworks explode right in front of you. Your mind rewires itself slowly and suddenly everything is over-stimulating. Everything is either too bright or not bright enough. You've become hyperaware of the mesh material against your hot, sweaty skin and the sounds of poorly curated indie music that played in the background. You couldn't recognize yourself in the mirror.

Rin groans at your mess and slips out his fingers with a loud pop before setting your fatigued body against his.

"I think your readers will like it."

TAGLIST

@wtfsaekyuny , @jukey , @broeagleblog , @freakingdinonuggies , @damutaaa , @idk-bro-gay , @saharei , @yesurmajesty , @vvi-site , @saeswifeeee , @marilover69 , @izayumi-chan , @whostakara , @talleythesimp , @short-black-diamond

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causenessus · 4 months

Text

Meeting Your Eyes. | Bungou Stray Dogs

inc: dazai, chuuya, tecchou (ft. cranky jouno <3), tachihara

written in 2nd pov (female implied!)

song recc: my jinji by sunset rollercoaster

word count: 1492 words

lil scenarios of meeting their eyes <3 chuuya and tachihara get special treatment with lowercase names in theirs bc their just so soft and i love them so much but they're all so sweet !!! i refuse to write dialogue in paragraphs so sorry they're mixed with the headcanons (๑´ ^ `๑) hope u enjoy!! this is my slightly late valentine's day post <33

dazai

tries to meet your eyes the whole day at the agency

peeks above your laptop screen and to the side trying to grab your attention and pouts when you don’t look at him

solely because he wants attention or because he wants to convince you to go somewhere with him

Atsushi has discovered that it’s impossible to communicate with Dazai when he gets like this

the boy can only watch as Dazai progressively gets closer to you, and by the end he’s completely on his desk and leaning over yours <3

“[Y/N]...” he whined, using a hand to move your computer screen back and forth

“yes?” you said, keeping your eyes focused on the wobbling screen

“look at meee, please?” he inched closer to your face, almost breaking your mask

you know as soon as you look at him you won’t be able to say no

he’ll be giving you puppy eyes the entire day, and he knows that if he can get you to look at him, he’ll be able to convince you

“I’m sure Kunikida-kun wouldn’t mind if we went home a little early, can we please?” he continued to beg

you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you tried to clear your mind, “even if he doesn’t mind–which I think is highly doubtful–I still have work I can get done. so the answer is no. you can hang in there, love.”

your words went through one ear and out the other, “can you say it while looking at me?” he was using a soft, quiet voice that was making it hard to stay strong. if he wasn’t so persuasive, you’d love to look at your boyfriend’s pretty face. it was already hard enough to not look at him even though you knew how convincing he could be

a hand brushed against yours, starting to play with your index finger as Dazai whined your name again.

you opened your eyes as you answered, “no, ‘Samu–” the moment you met eyes with him, your resolve faltered

he had the most adorable expression on his already endearing face that made your heart ache whenever he looked at you like this.

you averted your eyes as you silently closed your laptop, beginning to pack your bag, “...I suppose I could get it done tomorrow. and as long as it’s turned in by its deadline Kunikida-san will be fine with it.”

“oh! my belladonna!” Dazai exclaimed as he practically threw himself onto you, arms wrapped around your neck, “I knew I could convince you. let’s go home,” he gave you an innocent smile, pressing a kiss to your lips before pulling away to gather his own things

chuuya

chuuya meets your eyes from across a corporate party

you’re the only one he can truly feel comfortable around in such a large setting. he feels safer knowing you’re safe when he’s around you and can see you

plus, he’s more than happy to walk around with you. he’s proud to be walking with the beautiful lady who’s turning every head <3 it’s even better because he knows that no matter what, you’re all his

he looks for you the moment he arrives at the party, searching the crowd for your face

he ignores anyone trying to talk to him or offer him something to drink. honestly, he waves everyone away, completely focused on finding you

he pushes past a couple in the crowd and suddenly he’ll see you; your eyes slightly wide and mouth parted as you meet his eyes from afar

as soon as you see him, you’re pushing through the crowd to get to him and he’s doing the same. you never take your eyes off of him, scared to lose him in the crowd again

when you finally meet, it’s like everything was set just for this moment. a beam of light perfectly shines over you both as you meet in the middle

“you look stunning, sweetheart,” he can’t help but say, hands trailing down your sides, resting on your hips

your arms drape across his shoulders and around his neck as you brush noses with him, “so do you, darling.” you both share a smile, continuing to look into his slate colored eyes. “I was looking everywhere for you.”

he can feel his heart start to slow as he relaxes in your hold. “so was I, doll,” as he stares into your eyes, he realizes that all he needs is you.

“say,” he murmurs, eyes lowering to watch his hands as they draw circles on your skin, “I know we just got here, but I just wanna be with you. wanna get out of here?” when he looks back up at you, his eyes are playful

“as long as I’m with you, I don’t care where we go,” you respond, intertwining your hand with his as he starts to lead you through the crowd <3

tecchou

you meet eyes with Tecchou when you look across the table to find him already looking at you

your heart stirs, stricken by those pretty amber eyes, and he hasn’t even processed that you’ve caught him staring

he’s so entranced in you that he only smiles when you meet his eyes, his head resting on a hand

“Hiro, you’re staring again,” you say softly, your cheeks warm a little under his gaze

“I can’t help it, angel. I could stare at you all day and it wouldn’t be enough, you’re just too perfect.” <3

Jouno is most certainly not happy about it

“Tecchou-san, I can hear you ogling [Y/N]-san from here and I really wish you would stop. Please stop breathing while you’re at it,” he scoffs from the other side of the table

(it’s Jouno’s special way of saying he’s happy for you both <3)

probably how you ended up finding out that he liked you

he had never hidden how much he stared at you because he was never ashamed of it

you thought he was so charming when you first met him that you were surprised he would ever take interest in you

“it’s not just that you’re beautiful. it’s just like I can see how pure you are in character. everything around you is brighter, whether I’m looking at you or when I’m with you. it’s been like that ever since I first met you,” he answered when you brought this up the day he confessed

(ear plugs did not save Jouno in the room over who was reaching for a trash can

you try to hold his gaze whenever you meet eyes with him but you’re always the first to look away, face turning red while he only continues to look at you with a lovesick smile <3

tachihara

you’re the person tachihara looks to whenever someone says something worth sharing “a look” for or when someone says something funny

yk like when someone says questionable and you look to someone else like “did they just say that fr?”

that’s tachihara and you <3

whenever jokes are made, he laughs and looks at you to see if you found it funny as well

loves to laugh with you and make you laugh <3

he has a ton of inside jokes with you

for example, radios are heavily used in the mafia so that everyone can communicate

earpieces do their job, but despite the beauty of modern technology sometimes their audio can be so scratchy and incoherent. especially when people get farther away, the audio just gets harder and harder to understand

once, when tachihara took you out on a date and you both were walking around in a store, a worker came on to the intercom to say something but it just sounded like a jumble of fuzz and garbled words.

he nudged you with his shoulder saying, “sounds like hirotsu every time he tries to speak to us during a job.”

you both were crying, holding onto shelves and dying of laughter afterwards <3

and now every time during a job when you hear hirotsu through your ear piece, you both immediately look at each other with mischievous smiles and stifled laughter

even during the most serious of meetings–you both could be standing right in front of Mori and it’s like you guys have a telepathic connection

you both will look at each other simultaneously and share the same thoughts

meeting eyes with him always ends with you both having uncontrollable smiles that automatically spread across your faces <3

along with the knowing looks you two share, there’s so much love and adoration in your eyes for each other

he also knows that if you don’t meet his eyes or if they’re not as lively as usual, something’s wrong and he’s always quick to ask you what he can do to help <3

#dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu #chuuya x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #nakahara chuuya #tecchou x reader #tecchou suehiro x reader #tachihara x reader #tachihara michizou #bsd x reader #bsd headcanons

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captainsophiestark · 8 months

Text

A Perfect Match

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Bridgerton

Day 19 Prompt: "What if we're wrong?"

Summary: Anthony and Y/N have been dancing around each other for far too long. Benedict and Colin decide to do something about that.

Word Count: 1,726

Category: Fluff, minor angst

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Benedict's POV

"Colin!" I hissed, poking my head into the study where my brother sat journaling about his travels. He looked up at me like he had no idea why I could be bothering him. "Lady Y/N is here."

"Oh!"

He shot out of his seat, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. We'd only been putting together our plan to get her and my brother together for a week. How he could've forgotten was beyond me.

"Alright, she's having tea with Eloise in the drawing room. I'm going to go get her and bring her to Anthony's study," I said as Colin and I walked through the halls. "You just be ready to come give me a reason to leave once we're in there."

Colin nodded, then paused.

"Benedict? What if we're wrong? About their feelings?"

I sighed. Anthony and Y/N truly did butt heads at every opportunity as if they hated each other. But it was hard to miss the longing looks and the way one of them got distracted just by the other walking into the room. I shrugged.

"Well, I suppose if we're wrong, they'll probably kill us."

Colin gave me a look, but I completely ignored it as I marched into the drawing room.

****************

Y/N's POV

"Y/N!"

I turned from my tea and the book spread between me and Eloise at the sound of Benedict's voice, giving him a friendly smile as he entered the room.

"Hello, Benedict. Lovely to see you."

"Likewise. Actually, I was wondering if you could spare a moment to accompany me upstairs? Anthony mentioned needing to see you for something, and I told him that since I was on my way down, I'd bring you back up."

"Anthony wanted to see me?" I asked, working very hard to keep my tone neutral. Benedict nodded.

"Yes, if you don't mind."

"Actually, we do mind," Eloise chimed in. "Tell Anthony he can get his own friend."

"Eloise, Mother wanted to see you as well," Benedict responded smoothly. "She's in the garden."

Eloise narrowed her eyes, and I watched the staring contest develop like a tennis match. Finally, after a few moments, Eloise gave in and stood with a sigh.

"Fine. I shall go find her. But if this is a ruse, Benedict-"

"For what purpose? You are entirely too suspiscious sister."

I hid a laugh behind my hand as Eloise glared at Benedict on her way out of the room. I truly loved the Bridgertons, and watching them interact was more entertaining than the most competitive horse race.

"Lady Y/N," said Benedict, offering his arm to me with a smile. I took it, my mind racing as Benedict and I made our way upstairs. Anthony and I had a rather unusual relationship, and although I'd never admit it, I had developed strong feelings for the Viscount over the course of knowing him. The curiosity over why he wanted to see me was eating me alive.

"Did Anthony mention what he wished to discuss?" I asked, trying to keep my tone casual.

"No, he only asked me to hurry," Benedict responded. We reached the door, and Benedict held it open for me. "After you."

I stepped inside, feeling a bit nervous. Anthony was hard at work, scribbling away at papers on his desk, but he looked up when he saw me.

"Lady Y/N! Hello, uh..." He cleared his throat and shuffled some of the papers into a neater pile absentmindedly.

"Here she is, brother, like you asked," said Benedict as he came to stand beside me. Anthony's brow furrowed like he was confused, but Colin poked his head into the study before Anthony could say anything.

"Benedict!" said Colin. "Mother sent me, she needs to see you immediately."

Now it was my turn to be a bit confused, especially as Benedict grimaced like Colin had some something wrong. Before I could say anything, however, Benedict was moving quickly towards the door.

"Right, well, then I'd better not keep her waiting."

With that, he and Colin ducked into the hall, closing the door behind them. A moment later I heard the door lock, and then a sound like something heavy being pushed against it from the other side.

"Did they just..."

I stared in shock at the door for a few moments, whirled around to look at Anthony, then turned back to the door again. Benedict and Colin had just locked me in here, with Anthony, who looked as surprised as I did.

After a long moment of inaction, Anthony pushed back from his desk and quickly crossed the room. I watched as he tried the door and it didn't budge, then tried it again. Finally, he shoved it a bit with his shoulder as if it were stuck, and still nothing worked.

"Benedict! Colin!" he shouted through the door. No response.

"Anthony?" He whirled around to face me, eyes a little wild. "Did you actually ask Benedict to bring me up here to talk about something?"

"What? No, I haven't seen Benedict all morning."

I crossed my arms and shook my head, turning away from Anthony.

"I can't believe those two. I can't believe them."

"What are you talking about?"

I huffed an irritated sigh, then answered without turning around.

"Benedict dragged me away from tea with Eloise, telling me you'd asked to see me, right away. I don't know what on earth he and Colin were thinking, but now I'm stuck in here with you-"

I stopped abruptly, not trusting myself to continue speaking. Anthony and I butted heads plenty, but there was no denying how much I enjoyed spending time with him. Sparring with him when we disagreed and never feeling angry, just excited. Laughing as he complained about having to participate in the season but feeling jealous when one of the other girls or Mamas got their hands on him... I loved him. But I wasn't sure I wanted to admit it.

"Is it really so awful?"

Anthony's voice was thick, more vulnerable than I'd really ever heard it before. I turned around to fix him with a questioning look, and he held my eyes, although he looked ready to run at a moment's notice. Unfortunately for him, we had nowhere to go.

"Is it really so awful to be stuck in here with me?" Anthony continued when I didn't answer him. "Do you really hate me so much?"

My heart shattered in my chest, especially at the tentative sadness in his voice. My answer didn't come right away, and after a second or two of silence, Anthony turned away.

"I'm sorry. Forget I said anything-"

"Anthony no I- I'm sorry." I started crossing the room to him, but stopped halfway, thinking better of it. "I have fun giving you a hard time and arguing over silly things with you. But if I've done that to the point that you feel I truly hate you... then I'm sorry, I should never have let it go that far."

Anthony turned to face me again, a guarded expression on his face.

"So you do not hate me?"

"No. Quite the opposite, actually."

I took a deep breath, steeling myself to say what I needed to say next. I trusted Benedict and Colin not to do this to me unless they had some idea that my feelings for Anthony were mutual. Hopefully, that trust wasn't misplaced, but even if it was, denying my feelings had only hurt Anthony and I both. It had to end.

"Anthony, I'm sure this will be considered entirely too forward for me to say as a lady, but... I rather think I love you. You challenge me in a way no other man ever has, and when we are aligned, our teamwork knows no equal. There may be other men who would treat me well, and there may even be other men who would respect me as a partner, but none of them would be you. You, Anthony... you are my perfect match. And if I've led you to believe I hated you, then I am truly sorry. I assure you I do not."

Anthony just stared back at me, not taking his eyes off me the entire time I spoke. He didn't respond right away after I finished, still just staring, his expression unreadable. I started to sweat and fidget, immediately regretting my words and wishing I could take them back.

"You know, Anthony, actually-"

Before I could finish the thought, Anthony rushed to close the rest of the distance between us, sweeping me off my feet and spinning me around in his arms. I yelped, but when he set me down, we both had massive smiles on our faces.

"I apologize. That was rather improper of me," he said, not sounding the least bit sorry. I smiled back and leaned into him a little more.

"No more improper than my confession, or your brothers locking us in this room together."

Anthony hummed, leaning into me and pulling me close to him again, one hand tangling in my hair as he murmured into my ear.

"I feel the same, you know. I have for some time. I just never imagined that you would care for me as much as I cared for you."

I smiled, wrapping my arms tight around Anthony and holding him close. After a few seconds, we pulled apart, and although I wanted to kiss him, badly, I held back. We'd already crossed quite a few scandalous lines, after all. And now that I knew he felt the same way as I did, I didn't think I'd have to wait long for our courtship to make quite a few more things I wanted to do 'acceptable'.

"I suppose we owe your brothers a thank you for getting us to confess our feelings to each other," I said with a sigh. Anthony scoffed.

"Absolutely not. They still tricked us and physically locked us in a room. No matter how happy I am with the results, they deserve some payback."

I grinned. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Anthony led me back over to his desk where the two of us sat shoulder to shoulder, plotting and planning the downfall of his brothers. I had no idea how long they intended to leave us in this room, but every additional minute meant more time to plan revenge.

Happily, it also meant more time with Anthony. And with any luck, the rest of my life would be filled with more time with Anthony.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

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queerbuckleys · 13 days

Text

LONG MAY YOU ROAR [bucktommy | soft & gentle | 1k] a/n: hi uhh so this randomly popped into my head, and it's the first time i have ever really written in tommy's pov so it's far from perfect but it doesn't really make sense to tell it from another so i tried something new weee. there's some bonus sweet buckley siblings implications <3 title barely has anything to do with the fic/i do not want to be too sad about it, i just love robin from ttpd and it's about childhood so it fit... well enough. tw for mentions of canonical childhood cancer and death of a child

Tommy stands in his boyfriend’s living room, beer in one hand and he takes in the decor. He’s seen it all before but he's still getting to know the man that’s fussing over dinner in the kitchen. And there is something new, resting on the tv stand, is a photo of a boy riding a bicycle, his back toward the camera. It’s the first time Tommy has noticed it. He had never seen any pictures of a young Evan before, it never struck him as strange, not very many people kept baby pictures around their adult home – that’s why this one felt somewhat strange. There were the photo booth strips, Polaroids, and school pictures of Chris and Jee on the fridge or placed in a drawer around the loft, but no other kids were present in this space. Nothing else is so formal. He figures it has to be Evan, and it was special for some reason. So he picks it up and turns to his boyfriend who is smiling and making his way over to him, finally satisfied with letting the lasagna finish baking.

“Who is this handsome young man?” he asks, a gentle teasing lilt in his voice.

And Evan’s demeanor shifts, he’s still smiling, but it turns sad and bittersweet. His whole body sags ever so slightly. Tommy watches as his Adam's apple bobs, he takes a deep breath with his eyes closed and steps closer. He traces the edge of the frame, his eyes transfixed on the back of the bike. “This is my brother. Daniel.” Evan swallows again.

“You’ve never mentioned…Could he not make it to the wedding?” He asks, but there is a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that tells him that there is more to the story.

“You could say that,” Evan responds with a dry hough of a barely there laugh. “He, he um, he died when I was little. Leukemia. I never really knew him. Our parents–” He shakes his head.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“I want to. It’s just, that I haven’t told the story so far removed from finding out. I told the 118 right away, while I was still numb. And the very messy deep personal feelings version to my therapist, but I’m still working through a lot. So, I don’t know. It might be hard for me to explain it all.”

“Well we can sit down to start,” He says gently with a smile. Taking Evan’s hand, running a soothing thumb over his knuckles. Evan nods and follows his lead to the couch.

“I just, it’s hard to know where to start,” Evan sighs.

“What about why you only now have this picture up?”

Evan smiles a little. “Maddie gave it to me for his birthday last week.” he clears his throat, “So, basically I didn’t even know that I had a brother until just before Jee was born.” Evan looks over at him, trying to gauge his reaction. He lets the words flow over him, and his brow scrunches, tilting his head in confusion.

“My parents kept several secrets from me, forced Maddie to keep them too, for thirty years. They all came to light when I stumbled across that picture in Maddie’s baby box. The past few years since then have been busy, and she found it again after her move and everything and had a copy made for me and had it framed. He has the right for his life to be remembered and celebrated after being a secret for so long.”

“Why was it a secret?” He lets the question slip out, “If you want to share that.”

“Well, um,” Buck ducks his head a little, “Have you ever seen My Sister's Keeper?” he asks, looking back at him with a questioning look on his face. It isn’t what Tommy is expecting in the slightest. But Tommy has seen the movie in question, and the dots slowly begin to connect. And Evan has this look in his eyes that tells him he’s right.

“Oh, Evan.”

“It just never worked for him though. Sometimes I still feel like I failed him somehow.” Evan rolls his bottom lip between his teeth. “I was always treated like a disappointment by my parents and didn’t know why until I was thirty years old, I was never going to be absolved of a sin I didn’t even know I had committed. Maddie though, she raised me. She always treated me like any kid would want to be treated. So, now we celebrate his birthday when we can and Maddie tells me about him. She always comes up with new stuff she remembers after keeping it tucked away for so long. Or how I remind her of him and stuff. It’s good for her to talk about him, and for me to hear it.”

Tommy smiles at him at that, “I have never been under the impression that your relationship with her isn’t very special. Thank you for telling me about this part of your family.”

“Well, you knew most of all the other members of my family before me, as Chimney likes to remind me.” Evan laughs and relaxes back into his arms, tucking his face into Tommy’s neck. “Thank you for listening.” he runs his fingers over his hands, “I wanted to tell you. I just never knew how to bring it up, or what base talking about a dead brother was.” He can feel Evan’s small smile against his neck, and he laughs gently too.

“Someday soon I’ll tell you about my family too.” He twists his fingers in Evan’s curls.

“Whenever you are ready. I’ll wait.” Evan places a light kiss on his jaw.

The oven beeps declaring the lasagna to be finished and Evan groans, ungluing himself from his side. Once Evan is back in the kitchen, Tommy lifts the photo up again from the coffee table and gently returns it to its home.

#evan buckley #tommy kinard #911fic #bucktommy #911 #*aj writes stuff

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teyums · 1 year

Text

His Secret Admirer (Part Two) - Neteyam x fem na’vi reader

part one | part three | part four |bonus chapter

wc: 4.6k

a/n: I’m so sorry this took so long y’all, I had such bad writers block trying to figure out which direction I wanted to push this story in. This honeslty isn’t as good as I wanted to be but maybe I’m being too hard on myself. This is the first multiple part fanfic I’ve written in almost seven years. 😅

contains: angst, some language

“~~~” resembles a time skip or change of POV

Neteyam sat silently on the floor of his family’s tent, his elbows against his knees and his head held between his hands while he listened to his mother chastise him for what felt like the thousandth time today. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t tried to keep you out as long as possible, constantly bringing up new topics so the conversation wouldn’t fall off. He never meant for you to stay out past your curfew, but he got so wrapped up in spending time with you that he didn’t want it to end.

“Where were you?” Neytiri seethed, pushing his head to the side with two fingers while her son ignored her. “Do you know how many times we called for you? What is the point of having this if you do not listen?” She hissed, motioning to the necklace he wore that contained a small walkie-talkie.

He bit his lip to keep himself from saying anything out of anger, his arms now crossed in front of him while he tried his hardest to tune out her incessant interrogation. He vaguely remembered shutting it off, not wanting him or you to hear it and bring the two of you back to real life. “I was out, mother.” He mumbled.

She scoffed with antipathy, turning away from him and flicking her hand into the air with annoyance, seemingly tagging Jake into the conversation before she did something she would regret.

Jake sighed, looking down at his son with a puzzlement. “Out where? Can you at least tell us what you were doing? It isn’t like you to stay out this late, son.”

Neteyam had enough of being watched like a hawk for his entire life. When he would try to go out and have fun just like Lo’ak would do, it was an issue. He stood to his feet suddenly, his voice raised and laced with frustration. “I was with a girl, okay? Is that what the two of you want to hear? If I tell you this will you guys finally leave me alone about this whole mate thing?” He yelled, his shoulder brushing against his father’s as he stormed past him and into his room.

Jake noticed Neytiri’s eye twitch with aggravation, her mouth slightly ajar with stupefy as she watched this unusual display from her eldest son. She had never seen him act out in such away, let alone disrespect his father, this was unknown to them. When she stepped to follow him, Jake grabbed her arm and slowly shook his head, silently telling her to leave him be.

Neteyam felt no matter what he did, his parents would find an issue. For years Jake wouldn’t let him act on his feelings towards you, constantly telling him that girls were not his main priority but he would let Lo’ak run around and pursue whatever girl he pleased. And now, they’re pressuring him to find a mate at the same time multiple men have noticed and already expressed their interest towards you. He couldn’t blame them, you had developed into such an alluring woman. There was just something about you that he couldn’t shake. Your beauty stunned him, you had changed so much over the years that when he would see you prance around the village with Kiri he couldn’t even gather the courage to approach you. He had no chance competing with Ta’olu, he saw the way he looked at you, he heard the way he spoke about you during the hunting party meetings. All the years he had been gone from your life, it seemed like Ta’olu had conveniently stepped right in to take his place.

And if he were being honest, Neteyam resented his parents for putting him in this position. He didn’t want any of the other girls they were trying to set him up with, the mere thought of mating with someone he wasn’t truly in love with sent shivers through his spine and not the good kind. Not the kind you gave him, anyway.

But every time he tried to tell to them about you, about the girl he was actually in love with, he was shot down before he could even say your name. Something about “status” in the clan, and them knowing who would make the best Tsahik to stand beside him.

Bullshit.

“You got to choose who you wanted to mate with, why can I not do the same?” He would yell at his parents, but his words would constantly fall on deaf ears.

The eldest Sully boy barely knew what a crush was. He felt his entire existence boiled down to being the protector of his younger siblings and the future clan leader- what his parents wanted him to be. He hadn’t known what it felt like to be in love until the night he laid eyes on you. He passed it off as inviting you to be his friend, but deep down he knew it was more than that, Lo’ak and Kiri included. The day he was told he could no longer spend time with you split his heart into two. But all it took was two painfully short hours in your presence to mend it back together again.

~~~

Sleep had been the last thing on your mind the past two days. You spent both nights tossing and turning- all you could think about was him. A reoccurring image of Neteyam’s sweet smile flashed behind your eyelids every time they closed, the memory of his voice causing them to open despite your attempts to keep them glued shut. The brief time you two had spent together, and how special it felt after years of being reduced to rushed conversations and short glances. You groaned, sliding both your hands down your face and letting your fingers drag across your lips. You had no idea what you were going to do. But what you did know was that night was one of the best nights of your entire life and barely anything happened. You felt like a little girl again and your crush was returning with a vengance.

You thought about what your mom had said, that you should make your move and let him know how you feel. That following morning, you begged her to teach you all that she knew about being a healer and the two of you got started immediately. You figured if you wanted to be Neteyam’s mate, you had to possess skills that would serve useful to an olo’eyktan. Although, you wish you had gotten into this sooner, because now that you were older the lessons were long and grueling to make up for lost time. You had no idea mixing up a bunch of herbs with a stick required this much thinking.

“[Y/n]?” Your mother’s voice brought you back to Pandora and you turned your eyes to meet a disapproving stare.

“I’m sorry, Ma.” You sighed, shaking your head and sitting up straight now to give her your undivided attention. “I can focus, I promise.” You nodded reassuringly, in which she returned with an unconvinced grunt. You didn’t blame her.

God, this was going to be a long process.

You thanked the spirits when the lesson finally came to an end, standing up and dramatically cradling your back with your hands to stretch it.

“You will have to get used to this if you want to learn the ways of a healer.” Your mother said in response to your display, picking up the materials that laid spread out on the mat of your hut and tucking them away into their designated areas. When you had asked her to start teaching you all that she knew, she was more than overjoyed. She had actively been trying to get you to learn the medicinal ways of your clan, almost like she was playing matchmaker from the start.

Feeling bad for wanting to escape so soon, you instead decided to walk around the house readjusting the most random objects, feigning interest in the same rug that had been there for years. You stood with your hands held in front of you, rocking back and forth from the tips of your toes to the backs of your heels as you avoided her gaze with an awkward whistle.

“Yes, you may go now.”

A smile big enough to almost split your jaw worked its way onto your face and you gathered your things at the speed of light, trying your hardest not to look so excited when you made your way out of your home.

Now that the lesson was over, all you could focus on were the plans you had made with Kiri for the day. The two of you were to venture into the forest in search for small materials that could be crafted into beads for bracelets or necklaces. While you had never really been very interested in healing work, you loved to make jewelry and were a damn good seamstress. You alone had sewn together many Na’vi’s hunting attire.

You loved hanging out with someone who felt connected to nature just as much as you did. Nobody had really figured out just how connected Kiri was to Eywa, but just from watching how she carried herself you knew it was much stronger than any of the others- maybe even stronger than Tsahik.

The village was bustling with na’vi and very lively today, the simple sight of it all warmed your heart. You watched as preparations began to unfold for the clan’s annual Festival of Lights, a celebration in thanks to the spirits for a bountiful hunting season. It was your favorite time of year and everyone seemed much happier the days leading up to it- especially Neteyam. This was one of the rare times of the year he could actually relax and enjoy himself, free from all duties and allowed to simply live his life the way he wanted for a few days.

Or so you thought.

You decided that you would craft a gorgeous necklace for Neteyam with the rare marbles you hoped you’d find near one of the fresh water springs, and what better time to give it to him than during the festival tomorrow? You knew you couldn’t express your feelings to him without an offering. If a Na’vi woman favors a Na’vi male for her mate but has not been suggested to him by his parents or the man himself, she must present her love with an offering in which he can accept or decline. The clan was very big on arranged courtship, which made admitting your feelings so much more of a big deal and ten times scarier.

As you paced through the path to the Sully’s quarters you greeted the elders that passed you and smiled at the small children who were busy entertaining themselves with a friendly game of tag. Before you knew it, you were in front of the hut that housed a big chunk of your childhood memories. You pulled back one of the curtains with your hand, poking your head through as to not barge in and waving at Kiri who sat criss cross on the floor while dicing up some fruits.

“[Y/n]! Come in, come in!” A welcoming grin made its way onto her face as she waved you inside the home, quickly standing up to discard her task embrace you in a hug that rocked you back and forth. “It’s been too long.”

You hugged her back and laughed at her exaggeration, pulling back from the hug slightly to roll your eyes at her. “It’s been a week, Kiri.” You quipped.

She held onto your forearms with her five-fingered hands, an overly serious look taking over her expression. “Yes, a week too long my sister!”

“[Y/N]!” A squealing Tuk came running out from the other room, her short braids bouncing with almost as much energy as the little girl they belonged to. She squeezed herself between you and Kiri, hugging your legs with so much force you nearly stumbled and beaming up at you.

“Hi TukTuk.” You chuckled at her excitement, stroking her braids affectionately. “I swear, it’s like every time I come over here you’re so much bigger than last!”

Tuk was like the younger sibling you never had, and even though she annoyed the absolute hell out of her siblings you loved having her around you, her constant optimism was refreshing.

The little girl accepted your compliment with a toothy grin, piping up to change the subject. “Neteyam told me to tell you he said hello! Can you date my brother already so I can have two sisters?” She questioned eagerly, jumping up and down on her toes.

Your eyes almost popped out of your head hearing the words that came out of her mouth. You blushed profusely, not knowing what to say and instantly looking at Kiri for help who was already hunched over in a fit of laughter. “Kiri!” You whisper shouted, watching her straighten up instantly.

She wiped a potential tear from her eye, clearing her throat and gently pulling her little sister from your legs. “Alright Tuk. [Y/n] and I have some activities to do so why don’t you go down to the village and find Mama, hm?” Kiri suggested, resulting in the little girl shrugging her shoulders and skipping off with contentment as if she hadn’t tried to blow your life up right where you stood.

Kiri gave you a suspecting glance and a teasing smile, using her fingers to poke at your sides while you tried to get your face back to its usual shade of blue.

“Don’t you dare.” You held a hand up in her face before she could begin terrorizing you, turning on your heels and grabbing her wrist to lead her out of the hut.

~~~

“Kiri, stop taking all the pretty ones! The least you could do is save some for me, this was my idea you know.” You scoffed, watching her scoop up a handful of small, gorgeous multi-colored marbles you had finally found after almost an hour of looking and dump them into her satchel. She shook her head and snickered at you, taking half the amount she collected for herself and dropping them into your bag which contained other materials that could be crafted into beads.

“Thank you.” You smiled, laughing when she stuck her tongue out at you just like her younger sister.

“Yeah, yeah.” The snarky girl crouched down to continue her search, waving you off with a hand while she sifted through the soil beneath your feet to find more. “Why do you need these again? I haven’t seen you make jewelry in ages, last time I asked for a necklace you said you didn’t make them anymore.” She queried.

You tightly pressed your lips together and nervously rubbed your arm with your opposing hand, shrugging off her question as if it hadn’t caused your brain to try and come up with fifty different answers that were far from the truth. “No reason, just wanted to make some things for my mother. Her birthday is coming up, wanted to give her something really special.”

Kiri narrowed her eyes at you, rising up so the both of you were eye level. God, you knew her connection with Eywa was absolutely insane, but since when did she have the power to hear someone else’s thoughts too?

“You’re lying. Her birthday was almost three months ago.” She spoke, putting her hands on her hips and tilting her head at you with a smirk. “So, do you want to tell me the truth, or are we gonna sit here and act like you didn’t just forgot your own mother’s birthday?”

You let out a short huff, bringing your hand up to the bridge of your nose and pinching it. Of course she saw right through your excuse, you knew better than to lie to Pandora Jesus- at least that’s what Lo’ak used to call her. You would never say that to her face, though. Unless for some odd reason you were craving a mouthful of dirt for lunch. “Fine,” you started, looking away while you spoke and lowering your voice. “It’s for your brother.” You mumbled, the two of you deciding to start on your walk back to the village while the conversation proceeded.

“No way! Neteyam?!” She gasped dramatically, holding her hand up to her mouth as she attempted to look shocked. Your mouth fell open once realizing she was forging her surprised expression.

“Wait… you knew the whole time?” You gulped.

The look on your face made the slender girl titter with satisfaction. “No shit, both me and Lo’ak. Hell, you damn near drool every time you look at the man!” She sneered.

You groaned and threw your hands up in the air, more out of embarrassment than anything else. This was the first person you had told about your crush on Neteyam other than your mother, you truly thought no one else knew. To see her not even the least bit surprised made you wonder who else had caught on.

The two of you decided to start on your walk back to the village while your conversation proceeded. “Does he know?”

“Oh, of course not.” Kiri responded almost immediately, raising her arm to pluck a fruit from the tree above you. “You know my brother is oblivious to girls. He’s probably the most sought out in the village, yet he still finds it difficult to believe when someone likes him. He does talk about you quite a bit though.” She shrugged, taking a bite out of her newly acquired snack.

“Really?” Your ears perked up and the giddy smile on your face didn’t seem to help to hide the newfound hope brewing inside your chest. You ducked your head under low hanging branches, jogging a little to keep up with Kiri’s fast strides once you realized you were falling behind. “Well? What does he say?”

You could almost see the smile on her face from the back of her head, probably because you could hear it through her voice. “He said he misses hanging out with you, wants to do it more often. I believe that’s why he hasn’t chosen a mate, because once he does, the two of you won’t be able to spend time alone like that anymore.” The thought of your time being cut short for the second time right after the two of you had found each other again was enough to make you panic.

“I heard my parents talking last night. They’re wondering why he hasn’t picked yet.” She suddenly stopped walking and turned to face you, her hands grabbing yours with an encouraging smile. “So I may have put in a good word or two. After all, I think you’re a much better fit for him than any of the other girls.”

You finally felt as if everything was piecing itself together, your nerves began to melt away just like your heart did at Kiri’s words. Your gaze fell to the floor when you felt your face heat up like campfire and your tail began to swish with delight. “So, what I’m hearing is there’s still time?” You asked, sounding much more optimistic than you had intended.

Kiri’s eyes left your own and looked past your head, the corners of her mouth twitching into a mischevious grin when she seemingly spotted something you hadn’t. “I don’t know,” she started, grabbing your shoulders to turn you around. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

Before you could even process the words that came out of her mouth, you were pushed forward with so much force that you stumbled out of the trees and into Neteyam’s line of sight. By the time you whipped your head around to hiss at Kiri, she was already gone.

You nervously turned back around, laughing to yourself at the stoic expression he carried around everywhere he went. You couldn’t help but feel starstruck every time you saw him, it was like your mind pictured him moving in slow motion simply to taunt you. He looked incredibly different from the years prior and you definitely were not complaining. And even though he hadn’t wanted to talk about it, it was pretty obvious how truly extensive and challenging his training must be. His arms had developed broad, toned muscles and you wondered if his abs would sound hollow had you knocked on them. You quickly straightened up when the solemn look on his face replaced itself with a bright smile once he picked your face out from the others.

You cleared your throat and tried to regain your composure as much as possible while he approached you, giving him a sweet smile in return and meeting him halfway.

“Hi.” You mentally cringed as soon as you heard the greeting your brain decided to choose. But lucky for you, his smile only got bigger. You could speak complete gibberish and he would sit and listen like he understood.

“Hey… How are you doing? With, you know.” He motioned down to your foot.

You tilted your head at him in confusion and it took you a few seconds to realize what he was referring to. Once it finally clicked, your cheeks flushed a bright red, remembering the predicament your injury had gotten the two of you into. “Oh! This old thing? Pshh.” You babbled like an idiot, looking around to try and focus on anything other than the handsome face in front of you.

He laughed at your display, the air around the two of you settling while you both tried to think of the words to say next.

“So I-“ Two voices overlapped as you guys opened your mouths to speak at the exact same time, making the both of you burst into a fit of laughter. You covered your mouth to hide your grin, shaking your head at him rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“You first.” He smiled.

You nodded your head and swallowed your pride, building up the courage for your request. “I really enjoyed flying with you on your Ikran the other night. And I was wondering if… maybe we could do it again sometime?” You questioned reluctantly, not entirely sure of what his answer would be. You figured spending some more time with Neteyam to prepare yourself for tomorrow would do your nerves some good.

“You’re not afraid anymore?” Much to your surprise he actually looked interested, his eyebrow raising along with the pitch of his voice. He couldn’t believe someone who had previously shown so much fear wanted to do the exact thing they were frightened of, again. Ikran rides were very exciting though, so really he was having a hard time believing you wanted to do it with him, again.

“No, I’m not.” You turned your head to the side a bit as you blushed. “But only because the mighty warrior helped me overcome my fear.” You teased.

Watching Neteyam trip and stumble over his words was like being able to come face to face with a Palulukan and not die. So in other words, extremely rare and not a common sight. He took your hand in his and looked down at you, hoping the loud beating of his heart would answer your question since his voice was having trouble staying steady in your presence. Your cheeks were sore now from how hard you were smiling.

“I would love-“

Just as he was about to agree to your proposal, an ear-bleeding voice made the both of you wince.

“Nete-yammm!” You watched as Eyiti waved her arm above her head like a madwoman and damn near sprinted in you and his direction. You cursed to yourself and rolled your eyes, which Neteyam did not happen to miss. Little did you know, he felt the exact same way about her as you did. Once she approached the two of you she batted her lashes at him and you swear you almost threw up in your mouth. Her eyes shot down to your intertwined fingers, the both of you begrudgingly releasing the other. You felt the urge to tighten your grip, but you knew it wasn’t a good look for the olo’eyktan’s son to be seen displaying public affection with a woman who had not yet been suggested to him.

She cleared her throat with satisfaction, completely disregarding your presence and continuing to eyefuck him. “Are you busy, ‘Teyam?”

The sound of her voice using the nickname you had reserved for him was enough to make your eye convulse as you felt irritation overwhelm your previously good mood. You dipped your head to the side a bit to catch her gaze, waving a hand in front of her face to break the trance she was in. “Uh, hello?” You spoke up, tilting your head to the side with a tight lipped smile once she glared at you. “Yeah, hi. It seems you’re missing a few letters there. You know, the ’N’ and the ‘E’.” Neteyam looked at you with an astounded expression, and even you were surprised at the fact that you managed to speak up. If you weren’t mistaken, you heard the slightest chuckle from him too.

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes and you felt a hint of accomplishment from ruffling her feathers a bit, only for her to turn her attention back towards him. “You promised you’d finish organizing preparations with my parents to be my date for the festival, remember?” She spoke, her hand now finding its way to stroke his arm.

Hearing those words come from her of all people felt like a knife driving right through your chest. You looked to Neteyam with disbelief clouding your eyes, hoping for something, anything to let you know that what she had just said wasn’t true. He only shut his eyes for a brief moment, opening his mouth to speak but a deep exhale followed instead of words like you expected. Her mouth curved into a sinister grin only you could notice. After dealing with her for so many years, you knew she would hide her true intentions behind fraudulent innocence.

You felt betrayed and you hated yourself for it. The two of you weren’t even together, you hadn’t even been suggested to him. You scolded yourself for even thinking the few hours the two of you spent together after years apart meant anything more than a friendly catch up to him.

He shifted his gaze to you, the look on his face more than apologetic. “I’m sorry, [Y/n]. I can explain this…” His voice was filled with remorse but his heart yearned to say more. There was something more than an explanation dancing behind his eyes, but you were much too embarrassed to look at him and discover it. He desperately felt the need to rectify the situation but you simply shook your head and took a step back.

You crossed your arms over your chest, feeling exposed all of a sudden and not caring if you had failed to look unbothered. It was impossible to hide how you truly felt from him, your efforts would have been futile regardless of how hard you tried. “It’s fine, go.” You stopped your voice from cracking, daring not to look at him while you felt his stare only grow stronger.

You felt his fingers brush against your forearm as he reached for you, resulting in you raising your arms slightly to avoid his grasp. “I hope the two of you have fun.” You choked out, excusing yourself before you became subject to further humiliation. You heard his voice call out for you but there was no way you could turn back to face him, the tears you had made such an effort to keep unshed were now threatening to spill over.

You kept your head down as you walked, nearly falling back onto your bottom when your body came in contact with a ridiculously hard surface.

“I’m- I’m sorry. I should have been watching where I was going.” You blinked away your tears, looking up to see none other than Ta’olu staring down at you.

The tall male peered at you with a confident smile, amusement written all over his face, not at all minding that you had used him as an anchor to not fall over. “No worries, I was actually coming to find you.”

You cocked your head to the side with interest. You weren’t entirely sure why he would have been looking for you, seeing as the last time you had asked him to hang out he ditched you for some random girl he had met the day before. “Okay… what’s up?” You cleared your throat, trying to set aside what had just happened a minute ago.

His stance shifted slightly and he grabbed hold of your hand, the interaction not being nearly as enjoyable as it was with Neteyam. His hand on yours was enough to make you want to crawl into a hole and hibernate for the rest of the year. His gruff voice snapped you out of your thoughts, his question being exactly what you feared.

“Would you be my date for the festival tomorrow?”

a/n:Isn’t Eyiti just the worst? And who the hell is this Ta’olu dude? 🙈*mischievous laughter* I’m so sorry for leaving y’all on a cliff hanger but I had to end this chapter here! I wonder what’s gonna go down in part 3 🤔 I’m sorry if i missed your tag! I wrote them down but when I entered it in some of them wouldn’t pop up 💔

Please like + reblog if you can it’s much appreciated 💞

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#avatar 2 #neteyam #avatar way of water #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #avatar twow #neteyam fic #neteyam x y/n #neteyam fluff #neteyam avatar #neteyam fanfiction

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fluffysucker · 8 months

Text

Desperate People find faith.

Bucky Barnes x reader

An accident mends your broken heart.

A/N: Written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female.

I read this amazing oneshot, and I couldn't stop thinking about this idea. So I added my own twist to it. Thanks to the wonderful writer for sharing it and for inspiring me.

Likes, comments, reblogs are VERY VERY highly appreciated. Opinions really matter to me

TW: Bullets and blood. Mentions of torture but nothing explicit

Main Masterlist

You knew you shouldn't have done it. You should have stayed home. What could barely be described a home. You should have minded your business. You should have acted like the civilian you are now. You shouldn't have done it. But your loyalty to Steve wouldn't have let you

The image of the cheap copy so-called Captain America holding the shield blasting all over the news was a hit. A gut-wrenching hit. There was a guy who was taking the place of your childhood best friend, the man you called brother, the fearless leader. And he looked happy doing so. Then the blond had the audacity to say that Steve felt like a brother to him. You felt physical pain that you almost threw up.

Rationality went out the window. Before you knew any better, you were tracking down the man who was handed your friend's legacy. The man who gave it away when there was nobody more deserving than him. It wasn't hard to know exactly where Sam Wilson was. You were aware he joined the Air Force once again. So you hijacked the location of his next mission, demanding answers.

But it appeared that you weren't the only one who had the same plan. As you were talking to Sam, trying to be as nice as you could, giving him the benefit of the doubt, telling him you weren't here to judge or pick a fight. You just wanted an explanation. You heard him.

"Shouldn't have given up the shield."

His voice was filled with anger. But you could hear the sadness hidden in his tone. Sam scuffed, walking away from you as well. You turned around and you saw him. The love of your life. Quite literally.

You fail to recall a time you weren't in love with James Buchanan Barnes. Growing up together, your trio was inseparable. You would never see one without the others. From the age of three till your twenties, the three of you were more than family.

Despite loving Steve like the brother you never had, the same couldn't be said about his best friend. Your feelings for the brunette were never platonic. Neither were his. In the second grade, he promised to marry you once he got older. And he did. He kneeled to the ground with a beautiful golden ring for you once he secured a job. It was the easiest yes in your life.

Loving him came to you naturally. Stolen glances. Sweet words. Fast heartbeats. Shy smiles. Gentle touches. You were each other first everything. It was like you were made for each other. Like you were born to love him.

And he was your perfect man. Every woman envied you. Every woman hoped to have someone look at her like he looked at you. Every woman wished for a man who treated her the way he treated you. Every woman prayed for a man to love her that much.

Bucky Barnes was head over heels in love with you. And he made sure he showed it.

You were the luckiest girl.

Up until your luck ran out. War knocked on your door like a hurricane, destroying your life.

You remember the night before Bucky was shipped. When you went home after what couldn't be called a double date at Stark expo. The promises the both of you made. Your dream wedding. Your house. Your family. Your kids. All of it. Your future. And you believed him. You couldn't fathom any alternatives.

So when Steve walked in your tent where you did your job as a journalist, who was asked to cover The Howling Commandos missions and subject their heroism to the public, you knew. The look of utter defeat in his face, his glassy eyes, his red nose, the way he was trying to shrink away in his new huge body, you knew.

Your heart was ripped and broken to pieces. The pain was suffocating. You were drowning. You felt like the world ended. Life stopped.

You don't remember how things went after that. You don't remember if Steve ever said the words to you, but you remember his promise of revenge as he held your sobbing body against his chest.

And he did. He ended Hydra. But it came with a price. Very high. After Steve's sacrifice, life became meaningless. You weren't living. You were barely breathing. You were alone.

So when the government asked you to write the final article about the war, the winning announcement, you were about to turn it down. You found difficulties in everything. Leaving your bed sounded like a tiring task. Eating felt like a punishment. Functioning like a human became a burden.

But you remembered how supportive Bucky was of your career. When every man let women their abandon their dreams, Bucky helped you fight for yours. And he gave his life for this victory. Your fiancée and bestfriend. You owed it to them. To be the one to report the triumph tinted with their effort and blood.

So you put in all your strength and travelled with the small team to write the most important piece of work in your life.

However, only a number of people of the team and the article made it back. You didn't.

On your way back, you were ambushed by unknown soldiers. They took you to unknown quarters. You were so confused until you saw that cursed symbol. They weren't gone. Neither was your fiancée.

And that began a lifetime of torture and pain. They brainwashed Bucky but left you with your memories. So when they threatened to hurt him, you caved and let them do whatever they wanted to you. It was a trap they built for you, and you fell in it every time. They would hurt both of you at the end.

You endured it all. You survived it all. Except the moment they made Bucky look you in the eyes and fight you. They erased you from his mind. You saw the love of your life, and he saw nothing. He looked at you and saw either an enemy or a mission partner. And that was the most painful torture Hydra put you through.

As if this wasn't enough. You had to face a hindrance you never thought of.

After Steve rescued the both of you, after him running away from you, after spending two years making amendments with the government and helping Steve search for him, after the accords and Zemo's predicament, after he remembered you, after Princess Shuri was able to give him back his freedom, after you hugged him as he cried, after you decided to finally have that wedding, Thanos happened.

You believe you did something so terrible in another life, and you were getting punished for it in this life. There was no logical explanation as to why this kept happening to you. Why were you robbed of any chances of happiness. Why did you have to watch your man disappear right after having him back. Why you could only feel ache and misery. Why was the world so cruel.

So you kept your hopes to minimum when Steve came to your shared apartment one night, telling you that they had a plan. You agreed to join them in the time heist, ready to be disappointed.

But the second you saw Bucky standing on the sides with his machine gun, you wanted to cry. You thought it was an illusion, but these blue eyes said something else. Now, you were fighting with a strong drive and purpose.

You thought that was it. Your happy ending. You finally had him. But Steve leaving tore you apart. You were happy for your bestfriend who finally did something for himself. However, you couldn't help but feel sad. At least you and Bucky had each other.

Bucky had another thing in mind. Because, a couple of weeks after Steve leaving, Bucky broke up with. He said he needed to figure himself out and work on his pardon. You understood. But it didn't make it any easier.

So you left, giving him all the space he needed. You hadn't seen or spoken to each other since. At least he is alive. That's what you kept telling yourself to find any sort of comfort or condolence.

So this was the first time you had met. He looked different. He cut his hair. He had a scruff. He was wearing an all black outfit. He had gloves on. He had little bags under his eyes. He looked good overall. That's what mattered to you.

"Good to see you too, Buck." Sam said as he walked with intentions to move away from Bucky.

"This is wrong." Bucky didn't give him the chance as be walked beside Sam, without batting you an eye. You couldn't say that didn't hurt but you followed them anyway.

"Look, I'm working, alright. So all this outrage is going to have to wait." It was clear that Bucky wasn't here to have a civil conversation like you.

"You didn't know this was going to happen?" Bucky accused Sam.

"No, of course I didn't know that was going to happen." Sam was quick to deny Bucky's accusations.

"You think it didn't break my heart to see them march him out and call him the new Captain America." This was more directed towards you, following up to your conversation before Bucky cut in.

"This isn't what Steve wanted." Bucky wasn't going to back down.

"Oh my god. So what do you want me to do? Call America and tell them I changed my mind. " Sam's sarcastic reply did nothing but annoy Bucky's more.

"Like I told your wife. There is nothing we can do. You just couldn't wait for her to get home." You looked at Sam. It didn't appear to you that he wouldn't know.

"We broke up."

Another wave of pain hit you as you turned to look at Bucky, who was still not looking at you. How easy could he just say it with no emotions at all. You were fighting to get by every day, and he looked like he didn't care.

"What?!" Sam stopped suddenly once he heard Bucky's words, turning to the both of you.

"You,two lovebirds who literally broke laws to be together, broke up?" Sam couldn't believe his ears. He thought you would have gotten married by now. Your love for each other more epic than all the novels he read.

"Were you asked to give it up?" You changed the topic quickly, refusing to answer Sam's question or talk about your tragic love story. It hurt bad enough, and you didn't want to show it.

"Of course not." Sam heard you loud and clear. He also knew your question had pure intentions. You weren't here to offend him.

"Right, great reunion, guys. Be well." Sam turned to walk out, ending this conversation.

"You had no right to give up the shield, Sam." Bucky was angry, and he was showing it. In the wrong way.

"This is what you aren't going to do. You aren't going to come here in your over extended life and tell me about my rights." Three of you came to a stop.

"It's over." Sam added, looking at you as you came to stand next to Bucky.

"Besides, I have bigger things to deal with."

And you hadn't rest since.

It was, indeed, big thing to deal with.

You had no idea what you were getting yourself into when you impulsively followed Sam and Bucky into the plane.

It was a constant mess. The flag smashers. New super soldiers. Karli Morgenthau. Isaiah Bradley. Zemo. Madripoor. Power Broker. And the worst of them all. John Walker and Lemar Hoskins. It never ended.

All that chaos was a good distraction. You didn't have time to think about your broken heart nor to think about the current nature of your and Bucky's relationship.

It was complicated and confusing.

You fought very well together. Your combined sets of skills were lethal. Your collective training and ability to work together kicked in when needed. Away from that, the both of you barely talked. You acknowledged each other existence. That's how you would describe it.

However, you couldn't explain why Bucky refused when Raynor asked you and Sam to join them in the session in the police station. Or why he always made sure you stayed at least an arm distance away from Zemo. Or why did he choose to be the Winter Soldier for the night instead of you compromising your identity that you kept a secret all these years. Or why, that day at Madripoor, he almost took multiple bullets for you. Or why whenever John showed up, his hand would always find yours.

You were thankful you didn't have the time to think about all of this because you were sure you would have lost your mind. You barely had your emotions in checks. And there was a lot going on.

Then it all went crushing. You would never forget this day.

You followed Sam and Bucky, running out of the building into the street, only to see the calamity that just occurred.

John Walker stood proud with the blood-tinted shield above the man he just slaughtered.

Instinctively, your hand came up to wrap around Bucky's bicep, looking for any comfort for the both of you. This scene would forever be engraved in your memories.

Three of you gave John some time. You stood outside of the warehouse he was in right now. You knew if you all went angry, the results would be catastrophic.

But it was anyway.

You let Sam do most of the talking. He was the best in this. If anyone could convince John to hand over the shield, it would be him. So you stood and watched. But it appeared that the time you gave John Walker to cool down only drove him more over the edge. So, with the three of telling him to give up the shield, John Walker lost his mind.

It should have been an easy fight. A veteran and an avenger and two super soldiers. It shouldn't be hard. But neither one of the three of you was fighting was the intention to hurt John. Unlike him, John was fighting to kill. With his new powers, he was uncontrollable.

You let out a high-pitched scream once you saw John throw Bucky away, electrocuting his arm, making him lose consciousness. Then you watched as he straddled Sam on the ground. You needed to act quickly.

You groaned as you got up from the floor, looking at the cut in your arm. Nothing too bad. You told yourself as you ran toward John tickling him away from Sam.

It was just you and him, now.

And it was brutal.

You were still trying not to hurt him too much. However, he was unstoppable. So when he figured that he would lose combat with you eventually, he retrieved to other options.

Picking the shield and throwing it at you for it cause a cut in your chest was enough distraction for him to take out the gun he kept in his suit and shot you.

The bullets found their places in your stomach and legs. He aimed for places that you wouldn't recover from. You fell to the ground, coughing blood, feeling the bullets rest so deep in your body.

John walked towards you with the shield. He looked at you. His eyes were showing insanity and rage. He lifted the shield up and hit you in the chest. The pain was like no other. And you knew that was it.

It felt ironic in so many ways. Your bestfriend's shield. The shield that presented all of Steve's values and beliefs. The shield that helped once save your life. Now, it was going to be the weapon to kill you.

Of all the ways you thought you would die in, this wasn't even close. But when was life ever fair to you? At least you would have peace now. Your dying wish was for Bucky to know how much you loved him and how you wanted him to be fine and happy. Because you loved Bucky more than life itself.

You tried to distract yourself from the excruciating pain by counting how many hits of the shield would it take to end you.

You counted two.

You started coughing violently as you felt a weight got lifted off your chest. All your body going numb for seconds.

You saw Bucky was up once again, and he managed to corner John with Sam, trying to break his arm to take away the shield.

You desperately tried to get up and help them, but your whole body was on fire. Why was the serum not working?

A breath escaped you once you heard the sound of bone breaking. Only to realize breathing hurt. Everything hurt so bad.

With cuts on your arms and face, bruises on your ribs, wounds in your chest, bullets in your stomach and legs, you gave up, closing your eyes.

Because of your agonizing pain. You didn't hear Bucky beating the life out of John after taking the shield. He didn't stop until John passed out.

Bucky turned around and saw a sight that came straight out of his worst nightmares. He had seen it too many times. Woke up scared and sweating because of it. A sight that he knew would haunt him more than it already did.

Your lifeless body in a pool of blood.

He took careful steps towards you, praying it would disappear, and this would just be a nightmare of his. But the sound of your faint heartbeats made it real.

"Doll." Bucky got on his knees next to you, holding your motionless body in his arm.

You hissed in pain as you felt a movement that caused all the pain in your body to stir awake again.

"Bucky." Your voice was a whisper. You were too tired to open your eyes, but the feeling of the metal around you was familiar.

"I'm right here, doll." Bucky may not let it show in his voice, but if you opened your eyes, you would see the fear and tears.

"I need you to stay awake, okay. Can you do this for me? Please, stay awake." Bucky never felt this desperate before.

"Help is on the way." The three of you had already arranged with Torres to have an ambulance on stand-by. You had a feeling things would go bad. But not that bad.

"I'm tired." The amount of blood you were losing was making you too dizzy.

"I know, doll. But you will be okay." Bucky didn't care about the blood getting all over him as he pulled you closer to him.

"You will get better. Because you have to." He was saying it more to himself than you.

"I prayed for this." Talking was getting too hard, but you had to tell.

"What did you pray for?" Bucky was doing anything to keep you awake. He needed to listen to your voice.

"To die in your arms."

Bucky felt the tears escape his eyes, falling down freely on his face.

"You aren't dying. You will be okay." You heard it. The shakiness of his voice.

Fighting the great pain you were in, you opened your eyes to look at him. You wanted to see him one last time. This is why you prayed to die in his arms. So his face would be the last thing to see. This voice would be the last thing you heard. His arms the last thing you felt. Your farewell to the cruel world would be with the man who had been your heaven on Earth.

You lifted your arm with a moan of pain before you placed it on his cheek. You needed to say it. You needed it to be your last words.

"I love you, Bucky. I loved you my whole life."

With that, the world went dark.

You didn't get to see the mess that Bucky became as he heard your heartbeats slow down. His screams and desperate calls of your name to wake up.

He was so blinded by pain that he didn't let the paramedics near, protecting your body until he realized who they were. They didn't try to fight him when he insisted on getting in the ambulance with you.

All the time you were in the surgery, Bucky was inconsolable. He didn't care that Sam and Torres saw him as he sobbed, sitting on the floor waiting for anybody to tell you were fine. All he cared about was that he didn't say it back. You could die not knowing how much he loved you. The thought brought new tears to his already puffy red eyes

He prayed to God and anyone that would hear. If you were standing close enough, you would hear him. "Please, don't take her from me." "Please, let her be okay." "Take me instead of her." "She deserves so much better, please."

In his long life that was filled with hardships, torture, and wars, this was the worst pain he ever went through. He could feel his heart twisting and breaking. Every cell in his body was hurting. The emotional pain turning physical.

His eyes were dried up. Cheeks stained with tears. His mind going through all the worst scenarios. None of them he would be able to survive.

He jumped up from the floor when the door opened, and a doctor walked out. His heart was beating a thousand miles a second. All these prayers never leaving his mouth. His last hope.

"She is okay."

Tears of relief fell from his eyes. You survived it. You made it. The doctor talked about your injuries. With medications and the seurm, you would heal properly. Bucky didn't pay attention. His mind focused on one thing. He needed to see you.

After knowing your room's number, Bucky didn't leave your side. The doctor told him it might take a bit for you to wake up, but he didn't mind. He would stay forever.

It wasn't long before you woke up.

You opened your eyes slowly, adjusting to the bright lights. The last thing you remember was the intense pain. It didn't hurt as much now. You just felt so exhausted. You tried to move your hands, only to be blocked.

You looked down to see Bucky holding your hand so tightly and his head resting next to it. You could tell his eyes were swollen and his nose was red. But he looked peaceful sleeping. You missed him so much.

Without much thought, you moved your other free hand to his head, playing with his hair. It felt soft under your fingers. You blamed the serum that made him wake up from such a simple touch.

You smiled softly as you watched him, trying to remember where he was and what he was doing. He looked confused until he saw you.

"You are awake." Bucky got up from the seat next to the bed.

"Are you okay? Are you pain? What hurts? I'm going to call the doctor." He was frantic. He only stopped when you held his metal hand.

"I'm okay, Bucky." You reassured him with a smile.

You repeated it a couple of times before he finally sat back down on the chair. That's when you noticed he was still in his suit that was covered in blood. Your blood.

After he sat down, he looked at your intertwined fingers together and couldn't help the tears.

"What's wrong?" You asked as you moved your thumb gently on his knuckles.

"You scared the life out of me." He answered as he wiped his tears away.

"Though we were used to this, Barnes." You replied playfully, hands still together.

"Not when it comes to you. Never you." Bucky was fast to respond.

"Nothing I haven't been through before." You said it casually. You didn't miss the look in Bucky's eyes. It held too much depth to it. You couldn't put your hand on it

"Is your arm okay? Do you need to get it checked?" Flashbacks were coming back to you bit by a bit. As you touched his metal arm, you remembered what happened to him.

"You are in the hospital bed, and you are asking about my arm." Bucky's laugh was dry. He would always be in awe of how caring you were.

"I will never stop caring about, Bucky. Even if you don't want me." It was true. Nothing could make you stop caring about Bucky.

"Don't want you?" Bucky couldn't let your comment go by.

"Yeah. You don't want me anymore. It's okay. I understand."

"You understand?"

"I remind you of a bad time. The worst. And you had to move on. You had to cut ties with all parts of this time."

"Is this why you think we broke up?"

"Isn't it?"

You started telling yourself this after the breakup as a way to pick the shattered pieces of your heart. Of course, he didn't want to be with someone who held their bad time as a constant reminder on her body as scars. Or with someone who went through the same hell as him. He deserved someone better. Someone who wasn't so damaged.

And you understood.

"No, it isn't."

He was planning to tell you everything but not right now. But words just fell out from the tip of his tongue.

"I don't look at you and see bad time. I look at you, and I see all my failures."

You looked at him, baffled, not getting what he meant.

"I remember everything."

You still didn't know what he wanted to say.

"I remember what Hydra did to you. What they made you do for me. What I did to you."

"Bucky.."

"How they pushed you too far in the lies of not hurting me. How they made you watch as they erased you from my mind. How they made me fight you. Hurt you."

You were about to tell him how you didn't hold him accountable to any of this because it was never his fault. It was never his intention. You were sure Bucky would never hurt you. The Winter Soldier not too. But he cut you off.

"They took you because they knew how much you meant to me. How important you are to me. I was the reason you had to go through all of this."

"I look at you and remember how I failed to protect you. When that's all I ever wanted in life. To protect you. But I failed."

"Just like I failed today."

Before you could say anything, he kept going.

"I couldn't understand how you could still love me."

"I looked at the list of people I hurt, and your name was first. And you wanted to help me. You wanted to stay by my side. I couldn't live with the guilt. I still can't. I had to let you go despite how bad it hurts."

"But, doll, I want you to be sure nobody will ever love you half as much as I do."

It took years for Hydra to remove you from his mind. But what they didn't know was that they never fully succeeded.

At first, he would forget his name but remember his girl and everything about you. Then they become harsher, so he would only remember your face and name. Then, it became only your face. Then nothing. The blank paper for them to write what they wanted.

However, whenever Hydra made the both of you train together or go on missions, he would get this rush of flashbacks like a movie playing in his head once he was alone in his cell. It would be you. In different places and different ages. The Winter Soldier would convince himself that it must be his memories from past missions. Effects of being wiped too many times.

The soldier was never able to shake the feeling of guilt after a training session where he would be instructed to be tough with you. A feeling so foreign to him.

He remembers the first time he refused to hurt you. They made him watch from far as they tortured you. Then they wiped him again. Every time he showed any sympathy for you, he was wiped and handled roughly.

But all the efforts weren't enough. You were the first thing he remembered once he settled in Bucharest. That's when the guilt came in. It was you. The love of his love. His fiancée. And they got to you. And he couldn't save you.

Even after the blip, His thoughts kept going back to how he betrayed you and hurt you instead of protecting you like he was meant it.

But the worst part was how he thought he didn't deserve your love anymore. He thought you would resent him. So he decided to break his heart into two. He left.

You were the forbidden topic that Raynor wasn't allowed to go near despite how much she wanted. You were the centre of his nightmares. All of them. Past memories of both of you at Hydra. Missions and trainings. And the worst, losing you. Watching you getting killed. Nightmares that invaded him, and he was defenceless.

"I love you, and I'm so sorry." Bucky laid soft kiss on your hand.

"Let me ask a question, Bucky." He looked at you, tears still filling his eyes.

You didn't expect this to be the real reason why you and Bucky broke up. But you should have known. He was too good of a man.

"If it had been the other way you around, wouldn't you have done the same? Would you have hated me then?"

"I would give my life for you without hesitation. And nothing could ever make me hate you."

His answer was fast. That was the only thing he knew about himself. You come first, always.

"Then why are you surprised with what I did? You don't love me more, Bucky." You laughed softly, already feeling your ribs ache a bit.

You always had this running joke that Bucky loved you more than you did. And to a lot of the extent, it was true.

"You didn't deserve it."

"Neither did you."

You patted the spot on bed next to you, wanting him to be close to you. And he listened. He sat on the bed, hands never leaving each other.

"Haven't we been through enough? Haven't the world tore us apart too many times? Let us have this."

If he still loved you, then you should be together. You should be broken together. You should heal together. It was poetic how even in pain, you were still together.

Both of you understood each other better than anyone. You shouldn't be separated.

"You don't hate me?" It was Bucky's worst fear and biggest doubt. If the damage Hydra did was unrepairable.

"I can live hundreds of years and still be in love with you."

You squeezed his hand to make sure he knew how serious you were. "You are all I have ever known, Bucky."

With that, Bucky got up and moved so close to you. Your faces millimetres away from each other. His breath fanning over your face. His personal scent with dust and blood engulfing you. His blue eyes warming the inside of you.

"I got the best girl of them all." Bucky kissed you.

It was a soft, slow kiss. A sign of starting over. Of getting back.

You smiled in the kiss. Bucky used to say this all the time back then. You were known as Bucky's best girl. He used to call you that.

You broke away, feeling so much better now. Bucky rested his flesh hand on your cheek.

"I thought I lost you. I was so scared."

"You didn't. I'm right here."

"Though you will leave me before I say it back." You looked at him, puzzled.

"I love you, doll. You are the thing I live for. You are the purpose of my existence. I love you so much."

You didn't care about the pain as you moved up to meet his lips one more time. And he kissed you back right away.

"You owe me a ring and wedding, Barnes." You joked while you brought your other hand to hold into his suit to ground yourself.

He laughed before he moved away for a bit, and you already missed the closeness, and he wasn't far. You watched as he brought his dog tags out. You saw something bright with them but couldn't tell it was.

"Oh my god." You felt tears gather in your eyes as Bucky brought out the shiny thing closer.

It was your ring. Your engagement ring. The ring Bucky put in your finger many years ago. It was it. You thought it must have been lost that you didn't try to look for it, avoiding the disappointment.

But here it was. Bucky was able to find it. And he kept it with his dog tags. So close to his heart. Where you belonged.

Bucky got in one knee in his technical gear in a hospital room with you connected to IV.

"Doll, will you marry me?"

You laughed loudly that you felt pain shot again in your body. Bucky was next to you in an instant when your laugh turned to a cough.

"Third time is a charm." You said as you gave him your hand.

With another proposal in Wakanda before the snap, you managed to get Bucky Barnes on his knees three times for you.

He put the ring on your finger and pressed a kiss on your hand. "It will be. Mrs. Barnes." The name always had its sweet effect on you.

Bucky leaned in again to kiss you. And this kiss felt out of the world. Like a lifeboat before drowning. Water after the drought. Your rescue.

It was Bucky's promise of safety and security. Nothing and nobody was ever going to hurt you again. A promise of a safe home. Together.

You kept your forehead resting on his as your hand found its place once again on his suit.

"No to be rude, but you need a shower, babe." You could feel the dust on his face and the blood dried on his suit and skin.

"I will be okay. Probably going to fall asleep." You didn't give him a chance to protest.

"Plus, you know. I like my man nice and clean." You pecked his lips playfully.

The sound of the word "your man" falling from your lips referring to Bucky made his heart do little dances. Damn right he was your man.

"I won't take long." He kissed your hair before he got up and left to get himself presentable for his lady.

The world felt lighter, brighter, better. You felt happy. You were happy. You looked at the ring that held huge meaning for you. You weren't hurting. You were finally okay. You had your man back.

Who would have thought a near death incident would be the thing to give you back the man who always brought life to you.

251 notes · View notes

nyrandrea · 8 months

Note

Yo! Not sure if you are accepting requests for Astarion x Reader and what not but if you are, here me out; it's known that it is possible for Astarion to be kidnapped by Cazador when you are fighting at the Inn. So what about if this happened and, to try and further break him and just be a total twat, Cazador sets it up that it seems the reader/Tav has come to save Astarion only to reveal that it was all a charade to break him and drag him to the ritual (could be a shape changer of succubus, whatever you like). Astarion is utter broken, THEN the real Tav comes charging in, tearing apart everything in their way to save Astarion. We have utter angst followed by utter fluff!

Ooh I very much liked this prompt as I've never written from Astarion's POV before so I hope it comes across alright!

TW for kidnapping and slight emotional manipulation

Word Count - 2.5k

Enjoy!

xxx

Astarion shifted his shoulders side-to-side while splaying his fingers, both done in attempt to free himself of the rope binding his wrists.

As he was ushered, his heavy breaths were muffled against the cloth that had been tied around his neck. As it obscured most of his vision, he couldn’t see a damn thing, but he knew exactly where his kidnappers—his so-called ‘brother’ and ‘sister’—were taking him.

Back to his old master.

Astarion had tried to fight the spawn – Gods know he did – despite knowing it was futile. His friends had tried to save him, you had tried so, so hard – he remembers the way you desperately crawled to him, weakly calling out his name before he was dragged away.

When fighting was clearly no use, he tried to convince them just to discuss their options, that surely they could figure out a way to work together to defeat Cazador, but it was all for naught. They thought he deserved this, and, in a way, so did he.

The longer they travelled, the more his struggles eased.

Even with the bag over his head, Astarion could tell when they reached the Szarr palace. The air within was thick with the musty scent of centuries past, a haunting aroma that seemed to seep from the very walls themselves.

Dimly flickering torches lined the uneven, moss-covered bricks, casting feeble, wavering shadows that danced with eerie grace. The stones, slick with moisture, whispered secrets to those who dared listen, their ancient whispers a chilling backdrop to the silence. The floor, uneven and cold, was a mosaic of cracked tiles, their patterns lost to centuries of neglect. Puddles of stagnant water collected in the lowest recesses, reflecting the dim torchlight like dark, unblinking eyes.

“I’m... sorry that it had to come to this,” Leon said. His voice was monotone, making his words sound like a cheap, hollow excuse.

“No, you’re not,” Astarion bluntly replied. “Whatever master wants, master gets. Just a shame we all must get slaughtered in the process, hm?”

Silence was his answer.

Astarion flinched as a door creaked open and a familiar stink filled his nostrils – Leon had brought him to the ‘Kennel’, where he had spent tendays being tortured by Cazador’s cruel and sadistic servant Godey – a vile creature that often haunted his nightmares.

The cloth covering Astarion’s head was ripped off and he was forced to gaze at that familiar, hideous skull.

“If it isn’t the nasty little runaway!” Godey all-too-cheerily announced. “Ah, but you always find your way back to Godey, hmm?”

Astarion grimaced.

“If I had my way, I’d saw off your legs - that’d put a stop to your wandering.”

“As pleasant as that sounds, I’m guessing the master said no?” Astarion said with a little smirk; a mask to hide his fear. “After all, I’m sure he needs all of my blood on the inside for the Mass.”

“But he needs you obedient too,” Godey growled. “And I should cut out that tongue of yours for a start.”

The skeleton brushed his fingertips on the hilt of his dagger, as if he was considering it for a moment.

“That means no barking, no biting, no struggling – a well-behaved little doggie.”

“I’ll never do what he tells me again,” Astarion sneered. “I’d rather die.”

“Oh, you’ll do both! You will do whatever he requires, and if you’re delusional enough to think any of your little friends will come and save you, well...”

As if on cue, the doors swung open behind Godey to reveal... you.

Astarion's eyes met yours, and a torrent of emotions surged through him. His lifeless heart almost fluttered as you bypassed Godey and approached him, a mix of apprehension and joy welling up inside.

Your eyes brimmed with tears as you rushed towards him.

“Astarion, my love...!” you whispered. “I’ve come to save you; I couldn’t bear to be apart from you any longer.”

Astarion extended his arms to embrace you. Your touch felt warm and comforting, and it held him in an embrace that seemed so familiar.

For a moment, he was overcome with joy, believing he had another chance at freedom, that both of you could take down Godey and escape from this wretched place. But as seconds passed, something felt amiss. Your eyes were colder, your words more hollow, and a chilling unease settled in his bones.

“I missed you so much,” you continued, your voice wavering with a hint of deception.

But Astarion noticed the subtle differences in your gestures and expressions, even the way you spoke was... off. He pushed you away and stared into your eyes, searching for the truth.

“Who are you?” He demanded, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and heartbreak.

‘Your’ facade began to crumble. In a flash of darkness, there was a revelation of a true, grotesque form. Its face twisted and contorted into a nightmarish amalgamation of shapes and shadows.

It was a shapeshifter, a creature of dark magic, cunningly disguised as you.

Astarion recoiled, his heart shattering into a million pieces. He realised the cruel trick that had been played on him, his eyes glistening with tears.

“A gift from the master,” Godey said all too smugly. “To remind you that you are not worth saving.”

The shapeshifter, grinning wickedly, vanished into the night, leaving Astarion alone in the darkness, his heart aching with betrayal and sorrow.

“Now,” Godey said, approaching him with a chain. “Be a good little mutt and tie this around your neck, it is time to accept the fate that has been chosen for you.”

The chains felt so heavy in Astarion’s hands that he merely let them slip and pile onto the floor with a heavy clang. He just felt so tired. Of running away, of daring to have hope, of falling in love, only to have it ripped away. Existence was... nothing but a cruel joke.

And Cazador was the one laughing at him.

Godey snarled as he bent to pick the chains up and thrust them back into Astarion’s arms. “Do not disobey! Or do I have to get the knee-splitter out for old time’s sake?”

The vampire wordlessly submitted and allowed himself to be led out of the Kennel and into the corridors of the dungeon.

A heavy, suffocating atmosphere hung in the air, as if the crypt itself held its breath, waiting for something unseen to stir in the shadows. It was a place where the echoes of the past whispered of forgotten sorrows and ancient curses, a realm where the line between the living and the dead blurred into obscurity.

"Astarion...!" a distant voice cried, slicing through the dungeon's oppressive silence. Determined footsteps reverberated against the cold, stone floor, the sound of clanking armour ringing in the eerie stillness.

Godey paused, appearing confused. “What...? Can’t be the shapeshifter again...”

The footsteps edged ever closer, and Godey turned to face these unexpected intruders, forcing Astarion to turn with him.

Gale, Karlach, Shadowheart and... you were rushing down the hallway. As you approached them, the ancient stone walls seemed to tremble in anticipation.

The groups’ menacing sneers faded into incredulous expressions at the scene before them, and an overwhelming shame punched Astarion in the gut at having them see him so... vulnerable. Humiliated.

They reached for their weapons, but your eyes met Astarion’s with a fiery, unyielding gaze. Your face was bloodied, and lips curled as you snarled like a feral animal – a far cry from the innocent but fake show that the shapeshifter had put on only moments before.

“Let him go!” you demand, your grip tightening on your sword, its blade gleaming with an ethereal light.

Godey flinched back, obviously surprised.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, the master needs him,” the skeleton said. “Leave this place and he may grant you enough mercy to let you live.”

“Afraid we can’t do that, bones,” Karlach snarled before turning to you. “Can we please just kill this thing and get our friend out of here?”

“Friend?” Godey scoffed. “This dog doesn’t have friends. Now leave!”

You meet Karlach’s furious gaze, and nod.

"Get back, Astarion!" she hissed, and in a dazzling display of athletics and brute strength, brought down her mace upon Godey, his skull splitting with a sickening crack.

Gale summoned bolts of lightning to dance around him. The damp air crackled with electricity, illuminating the dungeon in an otherworldly glow. All it took was one bolt to strike Godey down until he was nothing more than a pile of dust.

Your eyes remained locked on Astarion as Shadowheart raised her hand, and the shackles that bound him burst apart with a resounding snap. He stumbled slightly; disbelief etched across his face.

“Oh, thank Gods we found you in time,” you sigh in relief as you approach him. “Are you hurt?”

He said nothing. Just... stared at you.

“Can you walk?” you tried, holding out a hand to touch his shoulder. “We need to get you out of here.”

“Don’t touch me!” he winced back, and you instantly retracted your hand.

“I’m sorry,” you said, backing up to give him space. “What’s wrong? What can I do to help you?”

Astarion’s scepticism waned a little; this version of you was a lot more... convincing than the last one. The way your eyes crinkled in distress, those little twitches your fingers did when you were nervous, even your scent was... almost enough to convince him you were the real deal.

Yet, doubt clawed at the edges of his mind like a persistent, haunting whisper.

"You can't be real," Astarion whispered, his voice laced with a soft tremor.

Your eyes welled with frustration and hurt, but your voice remained gentle as you replied, "Astarion, I am as real as the air we’re breathing and the ground we stand on. I'm right here."

Astarion shook his head, his disbelief lingering like a stubborn fog.

"No, this isn't possible," he insisted, his voice rising. "This is another trick, isn’t it?”

“Trick?” Karlach tilted her head.

“Cazador sent you,” Astarion said, his shoulders shaking as he chuckled in disbelief, almost hysterically. “Not one shapeshifter, but five? I mean where... where did he even manage to find you all?”

“Not how I would thank my rescuers, but each to their own, I suppose” Shadowheart said incredulously. “We need to leave, unless you fancy waiting for the cavalry to arrive.”

Karlach bumped the cleric’s shoulder. “Just give him a moment, yeah? He’s obviously a bit... confused.”

“Oh, it’s all as clear as day to me, darling,” the vampire spat, making her flinch. “Put on the act as much as you want, but I will not be going anywhere with you.”

He glanced down at the dust pile beneath his feet and gave it a good kick. “Though I suppose I should thank you for getting rid of him, nasty little thing.”

“That was... Godey, right?” you tentatively asked, and his red eyes flashed back up as you slowly edged forward. “I remember you telling me about him, that night we spent near the underground lake, do you remember? We stared up at the rocks and pretended to point out constellations.”

“How on earth could you... know that?”

When you were close enough, he reached out tentatively, his trembling fingers brushing against your cheek. The warmth he felt was real, but his mind refused to surrender. “You can’t be real,” he repeated, his voice a whisper and laden with desperation.

Part of you wanted to use the tadpole to reach into his mind to convince him you were real, and it would have been the quicker option. But you couldn’t—wouldn't— invade his privacy like that.

A whirlwind of emotions tore through Astarion—love, hope, fear, and an overwhelming sense of longing. He wanted desperately to believe you, to pull you into his arms and never let go. Yet, the scars of his master that etched deep into his soul held him back.

You reached out and gently took Astarion's hands, placing them on your chest, your touch warm and reassuring. "I understand your fear, but you have to trust in us. Trust in the way my heart skips a beat when I look at you. I am real, Astarion. Our love is real."

Tears welled up in his eyes as he finally allowed himself to believe. With a trembling hand, he cupped your face, his thumb wiping away a tear that had escaped your eye. “It’s really you,” he breathed, a mixture of awe and relief in his voice.

You leaned into his hand. “It’s really me.”

“As much as I would love to recite the perfect poem to encapsulate this heartwarming reunion,” Gale said, putting a hand on both your shoulder and Astarions. “I do believe we should make tracks.”

Astarion didn’t even have it in him to make any quips or comebacks, so he merely nodded, allowing you to take his hand as you led the way.

With renewed determination, the group made their escape, leaving a trail of chaos in their wake. Fire and lightning clashed with steel, and the dungeon's oppressive darkness was pierced by their resolute will. Together, they left a burning path of retribution in their wake, until they emerged into the moonlit courtyard and didn’t stop until they made it all the way back to camp.

“Woo!” Karlach cheered, turning back momentarily to hold up her middle finger up to the Szarr Palace as it disappeared over the horizon. “Can’t believe we actually managed to pull that off.”

“Neither can I,” Shadowheart deadpanned, her expression softening as she looked at Astarion. “But... I’m glad we did.”

“So am I,” Gale smiled. “This team wouldn’t be the same without your... well, let’s say charm.”

“You have such a way with words, Gale,” Astarion weakly joked. “But... know that I am grateful for you rescuing me, even if it didn’t seem like it at the time.”

“Aw, that’s alright!” Karlach gave him a thumbs up. “You’re with us now, and that’s all that matters.”

“I appreciate that, darling but...” his voice trembled slightly. “Cazador, he’ll... he needs me for the ritual. He will come after me again.”

“I’d like to see him try,” you said, your confident smile betrayed by your eyes as you clutched onto his hand like a lifeline. “He may be a vampire lord, but he doesn’t even have a slither of Karlach’s strength, or Shadowheart’s resolve or Gale’s power. And if all else fails we’ll just throw Lae’zel at him.”

You pause for a moment.

“I know we fucked up tonight but... that won’t happen again, Astarion. We’ll do better. I’ll be better. He... that bastard won’t get you.”

The corners of his lips twitched up into a smile as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze in kind. He felt the warmth of your love wrapping around his dead heart, like a protective cloak. In that moment, Astarion didn’t know what path lay ahead for him, but he knew that Cazador wouldn’t have any say in it, or anyone else for that matter.

His future... belonged to him.

xxx

eh... sorry the ending's a tad cheesy but hope you enjoyed anyhow!

Links to my other Astarion works

Everything's Fine

Restless

Request - Astarion kills everyone in his path to get to you

Request - Astarion tries to save you from kidnappers

Request - Astarion helps you to see that you're beautiful

#astarion x reader #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion ancunin #my writing #fanfiction #request #tw kidnapping #bg3 gale #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 karlach #bg3 godey

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siriusleee · 5 months

Text

Happy Christmas @nightcourtseer! Written for @acotargiftexchange. Summary: Elain and Azriel meet most nights, away from the prying eyes of everyone else. Tags: smut, but nothing hardcore, implied angst, implied unhappiness, mdni, 3rd person pov, alternating pov Word Count: 3.2k

She always smelt like the mornings even when she was covered in sweat and dirt. Everything about her reminded him of the daylilies she painstakingly tended to - the way her smile bloomed best in the morning sunrise, the way the folds of her dress seemed to wither just slightly in the evening time.

Azriel had tried once to tell her about the comparison, but the words had died in his mouth before he could get them out. She had thought it was amusing to watch him stand there and flail like a fish out of water, like a schoolboy who just developed his first crush.

He sometimes thought that she knew, that she had to know, that she was smart enough to read the way his shadows stormed and raged when she was around. She had to notice the way they stretched towards her in the long stretches of the night when the both of them couldn’t sleep and found solace beneath the Velaris stars together.

And Velaris never really slept - not really. Not when neither of them could sleep and the lullaby of their feet against the cobblestone street was the only sound that could bring them any sort of peace. On those evenings, Azriel watched Elain press herself against the stone fence that ran alongside the Sidra and he wondered as she looked down into the waters, if she was remembering being hauled from the waters that stormed within the Cauldron.

The sunlight cleaved the two of them apart, back to their prospected corners of the townhouse.

Tonight was one of the nights neither of them could sleep. Azriel finds her in the garden two cups of tea steaming in the darkness.

“You have a knack for that,” Az tells her, lowering himself down into the chair across from her, but Elain doesn’t look up at him. Instead, her eyes stay downcast at the flowers in her lap, fingers expertly intertwining the stems.

“A knack for what?”

“For knowing when someone is going to show up.”

Azriel can see the dark moons beneath her eyes, and halfway she smiles at him as she turns just so in the chair below her. But the smile fades quickly, replaced with a frown that makes the edges of Az’s stomach hurt.

“I always know when you’re going to show up.”

Elain used to pray. She didn’t know who she was praying to during her years in the human world. But she never could shake the feeling of something larger than human life looming over her and her family, looming over them and waiting for the next change of something good to happen so it could snatch it away again.

So Elain would pray each day behind Nesta’s back - silent in the night watching the stars out of the window.

She used to pray that Nesta would find some semblance of happiness in this life; that her father’s knee would hurt him less. That Feyre would return from the snow and frost-coated forest safely, even if it meant coming back empty-handed. She prayed for a man with kind hands who would deliver her from that frozen shack.

The Cauldron twisted each one and spat them back at her.

She wanted Nesta’s anger - her ability to keep the fight inside of her no matter what was placed in front of her. She wanted Feyre’s discipline.

She got this instead.

Az doesn’t tell her about Rhys’ command to stay away from her, instead opting to see her at night.

“I’m busy lately. Sorry.”

Elain sighs, fingers tracing the patterns in the wrought iron table. Sometimes Az wonders if she hears him when he speaks or does she just feels what he says.

“I know,” she says, voice clear and ringing in the nighttime, “Training the next generation?”

Azriel doesn’t sit until she tilts her head towards the chair and now cold cup of tea. It’s easy to sit here with her; a respite from the rest of the world. But keeping his hands on the teacup is hard, clenching it just too tight for the fragile porcelain. At his feet, his shadows swirl, reaching delicately towards the hem of her skirt.

“Do you want to go on a walk tonight?” Elain asks suddenly, her tea abandoned on the table. “I don’t feel like sitting around hearing Feyre and Rhys tonight.”

Az grins into his sip of tea until the sounds of Rhy’s words ring through his skull. He tries to keep the pleasant expression on his face, but he feels it twist and sour.

“I can’t tonight. Rhys needs me on patrol.”

Elain doesn’t look at him; she doesn’t need to for him to see the way her face falls just in an increment beneath that mask she wears so well. He wants to see it fall completely - a sight he’s only seen a handful of times - but there’s nothing to do for that.

Elain stands, hands running down the imaginary wrinkles of her skirt; she keeps her eyes firmly planted on the ground in front of her.

“I have to go to bed. Goodnight Az.”

Az twists in his seat, hand and shadows trailing after her, a silent plea to stay.

It lingers in the air after she’s disappeared.

He finds her a few nights later lingering at the river's edge, coat hood pulled low over her face to hide from the world.

“Busy again today?

He catches the edge in her voice and ignores it, leaning against the railing to look down at her face. There’s a shadow under her eyes that wasn’t there a few days ago. The wind cuts sharply through the city, and without a thought, Az shifts so that his wings catch most of the chill.

“I’ve been on patrol,” Az says, biting back the bitter truth that he’s been trying to stay away from her like Rhys commanded. Elain sighs, hands wrapped around the railing of the ridge, and the intense urge to reach out and touch the sensitive skin of her cheek rips through Azriel.

“You’ve been on patrol a lot these days.”

She knows.

It’s a bell ringing through Az, the realization that Elain knows they aren’t supposed to be together, a shockwave that keeps his feet cemented heavily to the ground. Az fumbles over his words until the slump of Elain’s shoulders stops him in his tracks.

“Please walk with me tonight?”

Az wants to wrestle with himself, wants to keep his promise to Rhys wholly intact, but his arm extends of its own will; his heartbeat jumps on its own when Elain’s small hand wraps around him and she tucks herself into his side.

It’s a foolish endeavor, Elain thinks as the two of them duck into a small place advertising a room for the night. There’s no hiding here from the prying eyes of the city, of the hands that crawl back to Rhysand and Feyre to report on every little thing she does.

But for once, since she tore herself away from the Cauldron, she wants to feel, wants to ignore it all. It’s not fair, she thinks as Az takes her hand, his scarred one gentle as he tangles his fingers with her, not fair that Nesta and Feyre get to fall to their basest ambitions, but she is expected to be the princess in the tower.

The room is small and cold, a fire jumping to life as the two of them step into the room. Elain wonders at the flames as they climb higher, still in amazement at the magic that flows around her each day now. The small snick of the door behind her pulls her attention away from the unnaturally bright flames and back to the present.

Azriel dominates in the closed doorway, wings tucked tight against his body, frame still filling the space even as he tries to fold in on himself. Elain tucks her hands behind her back to hide the tremor in them as she speaks.

“I just -” She doesn’t know how to say what she wants, doesn’t know how to explain how badly she needs him, so she drops the words and picks up new ones. “I’d like to just sleep beside you.”

Az nods, slowly and carefully before bending down to tug at the laces of his boots, shucking them off and placing them neatly beside the door. The motion gives Elain enough bravery to pull her shoes off, to shrug her cloak off and drape it over the footboard of the bed. She turns, wordlessly to present her back to Azriel, and without her having to ask, his hands begin to work at the laces of her dress.

When the fabric sags around her, she lets it fall, pooling on the floor around her feet. Elain kicks it out of the way, turning in just her chemise to Az. His eyes never leave her face as she reaches out to slide her hands beneath his shirt, feeling the way he shivers as her fingers trace the edges of his scars.

Azriel lets her push the shirt off of him; it falls to the floor with her dress. The room seems to press in on the two of them, chilly despite the fire. Elain’s hands rest against his chest, so naturally - as if they were made for him.

He lets her guide him to the bed, falling into the soft down together until they tangle beneath the sheets. Elain’s eyes trace across the hard plane of his stomach, hand reaching out to touch the sensitive skin of his side. Her fingers trail upwards until they catch the edge of his wing.

Azriel bites the inside of his cheek, trying to bite back the moan that threatens to break through him, to keep the feeling of being torn apart at her touch inside.

Her fingers trace the scars of his wings; blood blooms in his mouth. She reaches the apex of his wing, and he has to grasp her wrist.

“Please -” he manages to choke out, eyes clenched against the wave of pleasure that started to build through him, “Please.”

He’s not sure if he’s pleading for more or for her to stop, but he feels the way she tenses in the bed beside him, the way she shifts beneath the sheets and the warmth of her breath.

“Azriel look at me.”

He wants to imprint the moment in his brain: her hair pooled around her like honey, the moonlight creating a halo around her silhouette. The shadows under her eyes are darker, and more distinct than earlier.

Elain studies his face before sighing and letting her sink into the bed beside him. Azriel lays still as she tucks herself beside him, wrapping his arm around her middle. His wing comes over the two of them, shielding them from the outside world.

In the warm darkness, they fall asleep together.

It becomes routine to find each other in the nighttime, to sleep tangled together in the small bed. The inn on the edge of town keeps its secret between the four walls of the little room, refusing to let the secret escape.

They don’t mention the way their hands search for each other in the night once the light of the fire has died down into just a glimmer from the embers. Elain’s fingers trace the hard planes of Azriel’s body; his own hands smooth over the fatty parts of her hips, hitching her leg over his hip, fingers teasing the edge of the chemise she wears to sleep.

It stays teasing, until the weather shifts.

The rainy season cuts through like a knife, forcing the citizens of Velaris underneath the awning of business, crouched together like little bugs. Elain watches them from the little window in the corner of the room. The stars fight to be seen behind the clouds that roll angrily.

Az lets himself fall into the little falsehood the two of them have built here, reclining back against the headboard. His shirt’s been thrown to the side, boots left by the door. His eyes trace over the curves of Elain, and something in his heart twists, a jagged knife - a feeling that this has to come to an end at some point.

“Do you think the river will flood?” Elain’s voice is nearly incomprehensible over the storm outside, but Azriel’s ears pick it up like a holy hymn.

“It never has before,” he frowns, trying to think of a time it’s come close, “I don’t think.”

Elain lets the curtain fall, cutting the water light out of the room. She’s dressed in pink today - the type of dress you hardly see around Velaris. Her fingers twine themselves into the fabric, and she chews on her lip. Azriel can feel that she wants to speak, so he pushes himself up and to the end of the bed.

“Nesta asked where I’ve been staying.”

Azriel’s face falls into a frown; it’s never a good thing when Nesta starts asking questions and sniffing around. Unconsciously he lifts his hands, and like a puzzle slotting itself together, Elain lets him take her hands from the fabric of her skirt and pull her between his knees.

“What did you tell her?

Elain’s lip is raw where she chews on it; Azriel wants to run his tongue along the redded skin.

“I told her to mind her own business.”

A bark of a laugh escaped Azriel at the mental image of Nesta’s face whenever she heard Elain tell her that. The sound makes the corners of Elain’s smile pull up and Azriel realizes that he’s tracing the back of her hands with his thumb.

There’s a thread danging in front of the two of them, and Azriel wants to reach out and pull it to see what would unravel.

But he’s too cowardly, pulling his hands back.

There’s a fire in Elain, stoked by the feeling of Azriel’s fingertips on her skin. The intense urge to feel more - to feel the way his touch would be on her hip, her breast, in between her legs is overwhelming.

The feeling in the room sharpens when she pushes herself further between his legs, forcing Az to shift so that Elain can slot herself closer to him.

“Kiss me Azriel.”

Elain watches the way emotions flash across Azriel’s face - she knows he wrestling with the idea. She knows he’s thinking of Rhys and Lucien and all the horrible things that could happen, and she wants to wash those thoughts away.

Her lips find him, and they melt together, an arson fire consuming everything between the two of them. Azriel’s hands jump to Elain’s waist, pulling her closer. A frenetic energy coats the room, and suddenly it’s as if there is nothing outside of this room and each other.

Elain’s skin is on fire when Azriel touches her, burning her through the frills of her dress. His hands travel to the stays, fingers tugging them roughly until the fabric loosens. It’s not a new motion for Azraiel - to slide the dress off a woman’s shoulders - but he shivers when his hands touch Elain’s skin, the feeling suddenly so new to him.

Elain’s hands press against Azriel’s chest, nails digging lightly into the tender flesh of his chest. Azriel falls back onto the bed, wings dipping down to trace the floor on each side. There’s a tightness around Elain’s eyes that he wants to kiss away; Elain lets her dress slip from her shoulders and pool on the floor around her.

Before the creeping shyness can stop her, Elain climbs onto the bed, legs straddling Azriel’s hips. His hands come to her waist, settling her down on the bulge that strains against his pants. Elain shivers at the feeling of the rough fabric against her core, nails digging into Azriel’s forearms with a hiss.

Azriel holds her still, fingers trembling as they dig into her skin; he struggles to speak around the knot in his throat.

“Are you sure?”

The fire backlights Elain, illuminating the honey in her hair, the kiss of her skin as she looks down determined at Azriel, and with slow and deliberate movements, she grinds against him.

It shoots electricity straight through Elain’s core; the nights spent with her fingers teasing herself didn’t prep her for the way just feeling Azriel pressed against her would make her weak.

Elain leans over, capturing Azriel’s mouth with her own, greedy and hot. She needs more of him, and when she whimpers into his mouth, she feels him twitch between her legs. Azriel swallows her whimpers, his hands guiding her hips against him.

They don’t speak to each other - they don’t need to. Azriel can feel everything in the way Elain’s hands grasp at him, the way her kiss suddenly grows sloppier. She comes unwound with a cry, muffled in the crook of his shoulder.

Azriel rolls, hands cradling the back of her head until he settles down on top of her, hands working clumsily at pushing his pants down. He’d never felt this type of hunger inside of him, never felt the need to consume and be consumed so badly.

Azriel slots himself in between Elain’s thighs, feeling the way her muscles tremble as she tries to lock her knees around him. Azriel pushes her knees apart gently with one hand, rubbing circles onto the soft skin. Folding himself over her, he presses hot kisses on her chest, trailing his tongue to her breast, teasing her.

“Please,” she begs, fingers reaching to trace the edges of his wings, feeling the way he shudders violently. “Please Azriel.”

He obliges, lining himself up with her entrance; she’s so wet and warm that it takes every ounce of strength in his body not to slam into her; the feeling of her fingers on the soft leather of his wings is enough to pull at that thread, to pull him apart.

Azriel reaches up to take her hands, afraid that if he doesn’t, this will be over before it starts. Kissing each fingertip gently, he eases himself into her.

It’s nothing like her fingers - Elain has never felt something like this. The stretch, the burn - her back arches, fingers curl into Azriel’s face. He shushes her quietly, still pressing kisses to her fingertips.

And when he’s fully sheathed inside her, the feeling starts to morph. Azriel waits until Elain shifts her hips, rocking herself against him. He moves in rhythm with her, guiding her hand to his shoulder while his dips between her legs.

If Azriel could bottle the sounds Elain makes, he would - keep it close for the worst days when the shadows are strongest. Instead, he swallows them greedily, hips becoming sloppy as Elain writhes beneath him, clenching tight around him.

She comes undone again, fingers tangling in Azriel’s hair, pressing him close enough that their heartbeat seems to be as one. Azriel follows right after, hips still moving long after his release.

Both of them still together, fingers slowing in their patterns. It’s hard to breathe around each other, heartbeats returning to their own pattern. The tension in the air refuses to snap as Azriel pushes himself to hover above Elain.

The sharpness in her eyes is gone, replaced with softness that makes Azriel’s throat tighten.

Tomorrow, he’ll deal with the rubber band that refuses to snap.

#acotar secret santa #azriel #elriel #elain archeron #elain and azriel #my fics #not cod #elain acotar #azriel x elain #elain x azriel #acotar secret santa 2023

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perfectlywrongformend3s · 10 months

Text

I miss you, I’m sorry-Conrad Fisher

A/n: I have fallen deeply in love with Conrad so except a lot for him. Haha!

Song: I miss you, I'm sorry

Written: Gracie Abrams

-Samantha

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your POV

'Do you remember happy together? I do, don't you? Then all of a sudden you're sick to your stomach, Is that still true?'

I was on my bed looking at all the pictures Conrad and I took together. All I could think about was how much I miss him and wish I could hold him again. I heard a knock on my bedroom door which made me let out a sigh.

" Come in." I said

Belly walked in and sat next to me. She pulled me in for a hug which made me brake down. She rubbed my back trying to calm me down.

" Why doesn't he want me Belly?" I whimpered out

" Y/n/n, you know he loves you, he's..."

I lifted my head to give her a small glare. " If you loved me, he wouldn't have broken my heart." She sighed. " Y/n, what I'm trying to say is he probably did it for a reason. You know he's been going through a hard time."

I just fell back on my bed with tears still running down my face. I saw Belly get up to leave.

'You said."forever" in the end I fought it. Please be honest, are we better for it? Thought you'd hate me, but instead you called, And said, " I miss you" I caught it.'

'Flashback'

I was watching Conrad pace around the kitchen. I didn't understand why he was stressed out. He never really tells me anything.

" Connie, what's wrong?" I asked concerned

He turned around and said...

" I think we should break up."

I looked at him with my jaw dropped, " What?" I said shaky

I was trying my best not to cry. He looked perfectly fine while I was trying not to break down. " I just have a lot going on and I don't want to drag you down with me." He said

" But you said " forever" Don't you love me?" I whispered

He took a shaky breath. " OfCourse I love you. I just don't think I'm in the right mindset for a relationship."

'Present'

I couldn't help but pick up the phone. I wanted to hear his voice so bad. Before I could push his contact I saw his name pop up on my screen. I immediately picked it up.

" Connie?" I said softly

All I heard was his breathing. " Are you okay?"

" I miss you." He whispered super low but I could still hear it. Before I could respond the phone beeped telling me the call ended. I felt like crying again, just from hearing his voice.

'Good to each other, give it the summer, I knew, you too, But I only saw you once in December, I'm still confused'

'Flashback'

I was lying on the pool chairs trying my best to rest, but felt wet droplets land on me. I opened my eyes to find Conrad. I smiled up at him, which had him smiling. He leaned down to kiss my lips.

'Present'

Just thinking of that memory brought back how much fun we had together. All I wish to have Conrad back . But then thinking about summer was getting me thinking about how he barely showed up for the winter. He only ever showed up at my house once through the whole season. I wished he showed up more to visit me.

'You said," forever" and I almost bought it, I miss fighting in your apartment, Breaking dishes when you're disappointed, I still love you, I promise, nothing happened in the way I wanted, Every corner of this place this haunted, And I know you said that we're not talking, But I miss you, I'm sorry.'

'Flashback'

I was in the kitchen of the beach house just messing around on my phone when I heard someone walk in. I looked up to find my boyfriend. I gave him a smile, but all I got back was a glare. I got confused and carefully asked...

" Did I do something, babe?"

Conrad just shook his head. He then went to grab a cup but it slipped and landed on the floor. We both flinched when the glass made contact with the floor. I immediately went to help, but he grabbed my wrist. " No, I don't want you to get hurt." He mumbled

I nodded and watched him walk away to get something to clean the glass up.

'Present'

I wanted to call him and tell him I miss him too, but he told me to never speak to him again. But it's not like I'm breaking it. He did it first. I pushed on his contact letting it ring. I then hung up because he normally answers on the second ring. I placed my phone on my chest and started thinking about why he would break up with me.

'Everywhere I go leads me back to you, I don't wanna go, think I'll make it worse, Everything I know brings me back to us, I don't wanna go, we've been before, Everywhere I go leads me back to you.'

I was back on my phone when Steven barged in my room. " All right, get up!" He stated

I looked at him. " Um, no!"

He then walked over to me. " Don't make me drag you."

I groaned and got up. " Where are we even going Steven."

He shrugged, " I'm just trying to get you out of the house."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We've been driving for about an hour already and everything is making me think of Conrad. Without Steven knowing I grabbed my phone and texted him.

I miss you so much It hurts. And I'm sorry for still having feelings for you. You don't have to respond, but I'm just letting you know. I also never stopped loving you.

I hit send before eI could regret it. I then just tried to enjoy the ride with my brother.

Conrad's POV

I heard my phone buzz and when I picked it up I was shocked to find a text from her. I thought she hated me ever since the break up. Reading her message brought back those feelings that never seem to go away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, I'm not sure if I like this one. There's just something about it. But if you like it please let me know or if you have any feedback let me know. Thank you so much again for reading. Please enjoy!!

-Samantha

#conrad fisher #conrad #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher x you #Conrad fisher x #conrad fisher fanfic #conrad fisher angst #conrad fisher imagine #mine #angst

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doobea · 11 months

Text

BACK TO DECEMBER.

synopsis: Rin hates how cold the winter can be and everything that it stands for.

contents: unrequited love, non-mutual pinning, all angst no comfort, everyone needs therapy, heavy narration, gn!reader, childhood friends to lovers to exs, everything is written from rin's pov, sae can't manage his feelings, reader is mentally drained, extreme word vomit, proofread but not really word count: 1.4K a/n: all i can say is i am not sorry !! also i pray that they r not ooc ;-;

Rin hates how cold the winter can be and everything that it stands for. He hates the snowfall that prevents him from playing the only venting solution he has. He hates having to look through social media and seeing 'happy holidays' posts from his classmates and their extended families. He hates hearing his parents praise and beg his older brother to come visit over the break. And he especially hates the expression you wear every time you're reminded of it.

The last bell rings and the homeroom teacher that the two of you share wishes everyone to have a nice winter break. Rin watches your sullen figure from the corner of his teal eyes as you begin packing up for the day. Usually, around this time of year, his and your family would've thrown a joint holiday celebration that consisted of Christmas movie marathons, secret Santa exchanges, and an endless amount of hot chocolate to go around. From what he could remember, last year you and your family decided to spend the holidays separately - which was the first out of the many joint holidays spent together.

Not that he could blame you, it was hard trying to balance everything ever since what went down between you and Sae. Rin recalls the time when you called him in the middle of the winter night five years ago, nearly screeching from excitement, asking him what it's like becoming a third wheel.

He remembers his middle school self frowning, pausing the horror movie that he was watching to take in everything. "What do you mean by that?"

You huffed over the line, "Sae asked me out!"

Rin was visibly upset, unknowing why at the time. With a click of his tongue from annoyance, he sent a curt response before swiftly ending the call, not wanting to hear what you have to say back about his brother. At the time their sibling relationship wasn't too strained, things were relatively normal between the two of them and between the three of you.

You were practically their unofficial official cheerleader for their games and within their personal lives. Always the loudest one by the bleachers, wearing both of their jerseys, and sending passive-aggressive threats to the opposing team. Outside of that, the three of you were almost inseparable. With Sae being two years older, he was spending the majority of the time tutoring you and teaching Rin new tricks and tactics for soccer. More often than never, his parents treated you like a child of their own, inviting you over for dinner and impromptu movie nights.

And Rin remembers that all slightly changing once you and his brother had started dating. Everything seemed busy on your end, no longer finding the time to join him on his online games, wearing only his brother's number during soccer matches, and using him as an outlet for all of your relationship problems.

"Have you ever experienced a long-distance relationship before?" You had quietly asked.

That day, Sae stayed behind at school to talk privately to his guidance consoler about international high school options and sports scholarships. Rin and you decided to walk home together, a rare moment that both of you had forgotten about but somehow Sae was always the topic of conversation.

Rin tried rolling his eyes but couldn't. He couldn't seem to get mad at you, only feeling slightly angry and frustrated towards his brother. "No, but I'm sure everything will be fine." Which he meant, Sae had always kept everything in control.

"Still," Your weary voice trailed off, looking into the distance. "do you think he'll change? I mean 4 years is a long time..." You started going off on a tangent first worrying about Sae's safety, the language barrier, and ending it with insecurities about the relationship. "I mean what if he finds other girls there way prettier?"

Rin stopped in his tracks before flicking a finger toward your forehead. "Stop being an idiot, if Sae is gonna lose you then it's his lost."

Two weeks after that conversation was his brother's departure. There stood Rin, his parents, and you at the airport with Sae prepared to travel across the world to Europe with just a backpack that was a little too big for his stature and a bright red carry-on suitcase.

Rin remembers grimacing at the sight of you guys peppering kisses left and right, not wanting to let go of each other and having the six thousand-mile distance forcing its way between you two. He also remembers that day when Sae declared his love for you, promising that once he gets back that he'll be the number one striker in Japan with you right by his side. Throwing around half-empty promises to grant everyone VIP access, become the breadwinner of the family, and making his nation proud. Like you, Rin couldn't help but wholeheartedly believe in his words too.

After his departure, it seemed like you were slowly becoming Rin's best friend again. It was difficult maintaining the 7-hour difference, but you've learned to communicate with each other with messages being sent early in the morning for you and when it was bedtime for Sae. Soon four years went by in a blink of an eye. For a while, things were seemingly normal and Rin could finally relax and not think about you eating his brother's face off whenever he saw you. Secretly, he felt guilty having occasional thoughts of wanting Sae to stay longer in Spain.

Rin You hopping on tonight? You yea just gimme a sec!!

And that’s how every night ended up to be. The two of you would spend your nights playing whatever FPS horror game Rin had in mind, talking about recent soccer matches, how sophomore year of high school would suck, and with occasional updates with Sae.

That night went slightly differently.

"Your brother's been awfully quiet lately." Your voice sounded depressed through Rin's headset.

He mashed a couple of buttons on his keyboard, shooting the zombie right in its face before answering. "He's probably busy with training."

You groan on the other end and he sees your character die off-screen. "Yes, but he's been super distant on our calls and texts too. It's like he's turned off his emotions. Has he said anything to you about what's going on?"

Rin finished clearing the level, and the bright words 'VICTORY' flashed across the monitor as he shakes his head. "No, he hasn't."

The first year of high school then came to a close. Soon, Rin was hit with the abrupt news of his brother returning back right before the holiday break. Unfortunately, no one could've predicted the series of events that soon followed forth.

Rin remembers the hard lump in his throat, struggling to swallow down and look into Sae's hard dazed eyes. He remembers you stepping in between the two, chastising your boyfriend's sudden shift in personality and demanding that he apologize. He remembers Sae scrunching up his face before spatting out the fact that Rin is no longer an equal and that he had no interest in keeping you around - everything was suddenly a distraction to his personal dream. That was also the first and only time where Rin remembers you crying.

It was safe to say that the yearly joint-family gathering was postponed. You had quickly made up an excuse to hang out with your other friends over the holiday, which was a clear lie, and Sae immediately shut himself in his room for the remainder of the winter break until he had to travel out again. Rin had tried numerous times texting and calling you, but his messages went straight to voicemail. A week later and you sent him what would've been your last message.

You I'm sorry but I don't think we can be friends anymore. It'll just remind me too much of him.

As if he couldn't hate his brother even more, this was the final nail in the coffin.

When sophomore year of high school came around, it was hard for Rin to not notice you. Especially since you were practically his deskmate. But you did a good job of ignoring him and ignoring everything associated with both of the brothers, too good of a job Rin had thought. You were no longer interested in soccer but that didn't stop him from searching for your figure in the bleachers at every game. That didn't stop him from seeing if you were online and open for an FPS match, even though you had blocked him over a year ago. He hasn't forgotten about you and the impact you carried into his life and it didn't help that his mom would ask about how you were doing ever so often.

Rin thinks about calling out to you as you begin to walk out of the classroom, wanting to scold you for not bringing a scarf or wearing a heavier jacket, but something heavy gnaws at his chest. He stops and watches you leave the building, skies cloudy with a chance of heavy snowfall.

He stations at his desk and thinks to himself, winter has never felt so lonely.

#bllk x reader #blue lock #doobea writing #bllk #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #rin itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #Itoshi rin #sae itoshi #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x reader #rin itoshi

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jeepersbxch · 1 year

Text

it's all in your head. 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐎𝐔𝐓

summary. knockout finds humans revolting, but y/n has a fun way of persuading him that humans aren't all that bad

warnings. human reader, interspecies (oral) sex, handjob, blowjob, dom reader, whiny knockout, slight dom knockout but not really??, teasing, mass-displacement

word count. 806

authors note. ok soooo I've never really written an xreader in third person pov, but I wanted to try it out and see how it felt. it was a little odd, but i didn't mind it. however, I value everyone's opinion, so please let me know you if like this orrrr the second person pov (you/yourself pronouns).

His cooling fans were kicked up to their highest settings. He squirmed against Y/N’s revolting touch in concealed exhilaration as the squishy pads of her fingertips dragged along his spike.

"Are you always this squeamish when someone touches you?" Her voice holds a humorous tilt to it, making Knockout grind his teeth together.

"Are you always so annoying — gah!"

His hands reach out to grip the edge of the work bench when her hand wraps firmly around his metal cock, giving him a vigorous stroke. She continued her movements, so painfully slow that Knockout could barely keep his sounds to himself.

"Annoying? That’s not very nice of you Knockout, especially when I’m about to suck your cock." Y/N quipped.

A guttural growl rumbled deeply from Knockout's chest, but what a mistake it was, for he couldn't stop it from ending in a desperate whine.

"Sh-shut up! And it’s called a spike you little — !"

Giving his head a firm squeeze, she mocks, “I’m sorry, a little what?”

His mouth opens to say something else, but all that comes out is another lewd whine that has Y/N pressing her thighs together.

Chuckling from amusement, she focuses most of her attention to the fully erect spike in her hand, tilting her head slightly in wonder. Using both hands, she moves a little faster.

Knockout rocks his hips upwards in a desperate attempt to speed up the pace, but it only has Y/N slowing her hands down. A low growl drags up his throat, but before he can say anything, you beat him to it.

“It’s such a shame, really. We could have been doing this a loooong time ago, but you just have to play hard to get; don’t ya?”

Suddenly, her hand moves quicker, which has Knockout throwing his head back in ecstasy. Without missing another second, she draws the tip of his leaking spike into her mouth and sucks hard.

“Frag, frag!” Knockout wails and without knowing what he was doing, his hands reach out to hold Y/N’s hot mouth against him.

Even though it was difficult, Y/N couldn’t stop the mischievous smile. Whilst it was fun bringing Knockout to this point, her main goal was to always make him forget that a (in his words) lowly, disgusting human, was making him crave these sensations.

With one hand firmly planted on his thigh, the other reaches downwards to let her fingers work fast circles around her clit. She let’s him take control of her movements and he wastes no time at all.

His tip reaches the back of her throat so aggressively that she couldn’t stop from gagging, but even through her struggle to relax her throat, she didn’t want him to stop. Finding her bearings and breathing evenly through her nose, her throat finally relaxes. She hums, moans, and groans, doing everything she can to make him come apart.

Watching him more closely, she hollows her cheeks to suck him in harder and the moan that Knockout lets out is so loud and borderline pornographic that it almost makes her cum on the spot. His thrusts are reaching a more sporadic pace and his unbridled noises are consistent. He gets tenser and tenser until his hips stutter to stop.

Expecting him to release, Y/N readys’ herself to swallow, but instead he pulls her head back by her hair to begin stroking himself. He keeps her face close and pumps frantically until he can’t hold back. Looking at her with hooded eyes, he releases over her face with a satisfied groan.

They both locks eyes as his ropes of cum lands across her face. The proud look across Y/N’s face makes his spark thrum unexpectedly, but with a last stroke of his hand, he falls limp against the bench. His heavy breathing is all that’s heard for a while as his head races with thoughts of what just happened. Just as they reach the deep end of regret, a giggle cuts him off.

Just when he lazily trails his eyes downward, Y/N quickly wraps her mouth around his softening tip.

“Y/N!” He hisses, but it hurts so good that he doesn’t push her away.

The wicked look in her eyes has him hardening all over again.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you? We’ve only just begun! And I still need to cum.”

Her hand starts moving up and down his spike again, making him breathe in heavily. Her last words make him look down at her with a yearning for her to keep going.

“You will help me cum, won’t you Knockout?” Though her words were meant to be a question, the smirk on her face obviously states that she wasn’t really asking.

The fading voice in the back of his head tries to tell him to tell her to stop, but the flick of her tongue over his tip just feels so right.

Shunning away the voice completely with gargled whine, Knockout looks down breathlessly and whispers shyly,

“Y-yes…”

#ೃ⁀➷ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 #tfp knockout #tfp knockout smut #tfp knockout x reader #knockout x reader #transformers prime #maccadam #valveplug #i think those are the right tags to use for transformers content #starepiphany

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wrencatte · 4 months

Text

mini-fic 3! Cere POV. linguist!Cal, Mantis Crew as Family, Merrin & Cal bonding 1.2k words

“This one?”

Cal squints at it for half a second, says “yes,” then looks back down.

“What about this one?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t even look!”

“Greez, that’s the third time you’ve shown me that one.”

“No, it – oh, wait, haha, yeah it is. Okay. Let me see….”

Cere watches in fond amusement as Greez goes back to the shelves. Merrin comes over with a tome from deeper within the city library and angles it in a way Cal can look at it without straining his neck. His expression brightens and he takes it, running his fingers over the edges and corners.

There’s a slight twist in the Force that Cere’s beginning to learn means he found an echo. She has to focus pretty hard to feel it so she only pays it enough attention to be sure Cal’s not about to fall into anything nasty – not that she can do anything about it if he does, but she likes to be prepared – and tunes back into the softly murmured conversation between Merrin and Cal.

The Nightsister looks absolutely delighted at having found something in a language Cal doesn’t recognize, all quiet pride and subtle preening. Cere hides a smile behind her hand. Adorable. Cal flips the tome open and the two of them duck heads, Cal underlining a few words with his finger and saying something that Merrin repeats. He shakes his head and says it again. Her face twists in thought as she sounds it out before giving it voice and he nods rapidly, grinning. She smiles back, one of those small soft ones that pops up whenever it’s just her and Cal.

Cere is just about to go back to her own readings when Greez arrives, BD-1 whirling on his shoulder, a book held over his head in triumph.

“Ha! Try this on for size!”

Cal takes the book carefully. “I know this one,” he tells Greez, who groans in disappointment. “But, oh wow.” He flips through a few pages, lips moving as he reads the text silently to himself. “I can’t believe they have a book written in pre-Reformation Gwyrdd’tafodi. Do you know how rare that is? When they switched over, they deliberately destroyed all they could! An archivist hid this away for a hundred years in order to get it safely off the planet. It kept getting passed down the family line until one of them got passage on a ship.”

Greez crosses one set of arms, his free hands on his hips. He watches Cal fondly as the young Jedi’s excitement grows with every page flip. “You know, I would’ve never pegged you as such a gigantic nerd.”

“Jedi were scholars and peacekeepers before they were soldiers,” Cere says quietly. A hush falls on the group. Cal ducks down, shoulders hunching, eyes kept resolutely on the page though it’s obvious he’s not reading a single word. She smiles and adds lightly, “We’re all nerds.”

Cal laughs first, tinged with grief and legitimate delight. He tucks the book Greez brought under the one Merrin showed him, which makes Merrin throw Greez a smirk and for the latero to throw his crossed arms up in the air in a huff. Cere rolls her eyes fondly and catches Cal’s gaze. He grins, unrepentant, enjoying whatever contest is going on between their friends. It gets Cal more books without him getting up, so he’s not going to stop them.

Greez’s frustration is amusing to watch, especially when he snatches BD from scanning the book Cal has open so he can co-opt the droid’s database to help find a language Cal doesn’t know. It’s not helping. BD-1’s database might be filled with years and years of history and culture but knowing the intimate details of a language instead of just a simple dictionary is completely different.

Merrin listens to Cal read out loud for a few minutes, humming at all the right moments, but obviously thinking hard about something. Cere gives up on reading her book and focuses on the two of them, curious as to what’s going to happen next.

“How many languages do you know?”

Cal’s teeth click he stops talking so fast. “I don’t know,” he admits with a shrug. “Sometimes I don’t even realize I know a language until I see or hear it again. Sometimes not even then! It doesn’t always register it as a different language. It’s just…words I understand.”

She tilts her head, expression intense. “Could you learn Dathomiri?”

He grins and quips something in the smokey, gritty sounding language of Dathomir. Merrin’s eyes widen, and then, suddenly, they glimmer with a wetness both Cere and Cal pretend they don’t see.

Knuckles pressed to her lips, she breathes a very quiet, “oh,” before clearing her throat and adding roughly, “Your accent is terrible.”

“Is it though?” Cal asks smugly.

Merrin scowls. “I will teach you more…if you want to learn.”

Cal’s expression softens. “I would love to. Thank you for sharing it with me.” He adds something in Dathomiri at the end that has Merrin abruptly turning back to their shared book, expression pained and grieving.

Cere nudges the Nightsister with a tendril of the Force and gets a small smile in response. They don’t share the same bond as Jedi do, but theirs is enough for Cere to believe her. She settles back in her chair, musing on what her life has become, sharing a bond with a Nightsister, before she shrugs it off and fully intends on finally going back to her reading with Merrin and Cal’s back-and-forth as a background noise.

Except Greez comes back again, the book he carries is much thinner than any of the ones stacked around Cal like a barrier. BD-1 clicks excitedly and Greez is grinning smugly as he waves the book in the air.

“Did you know this place has an unknown language section? Guess who found it!” he all but brags. Merrin frowns, nose wrinkling while Cal laughs brightly and holds out a hand for the book.

Greez slaps it in his hand, earning a scandalized look from one of the librarians. Merrin and Cere laugh as he hunches down with quick apologies. Cal inspects the book carefully. If there are any echoes, they’re soft and quick. He grins.

“Congratulations, Greez, I don’t know this one.”

The latero cheers silently, all four arms thrown up in victory.

Merrin rolls her eyes. “You still lost. I found one first.”

Cal hums. “Best two out of three? This place is open for another five hours.”

The two of them exchange looks for a full second before Merrin jumps out of her chair and rushes into the depths of the library. Greez yelps and follows her as fast as he can without running. Cere hides her face, as though that will keep people from realizing they’re with her. Cal laughs, covering his mouth with his book. His eyes peek over, glittering in mirth. He pulls the book away, and holds it to his cheek, leaning in like he has a secret. Cere can’t help but lean in to hear it.

“I already know the language,” he admits.

Cere blinks at him then laughs loudly – nearly getting them kicked out of the library.

#cal kestis #cere junda #nightsister merrin #greez dritus #sw jfo #jfo fic #mantis crew #my writing #there's an alt version of this that's more bittersweet and 200 words more #it brings in the Order of the Dai Bendu and the Dai Bendu language #I just couldn't decide which version I liked more and went with the funny one instead #if anyone wants me to post the other version lemme know #that's if someone reads this far into the tags lol #i need to figure out how to get these onto ao3 #i don't want individual stories but i haven't posted a drabble/ficlet fic in a long long time #and even then the last one i did were full 5k+ oneshot chapters #oh well #imma stop talking now

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juunobox · 8 months

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──★ ˙ ̟ there really is no freedom here, is there? (nikolai gogol x gn! reader)

summary : TALKING ABOUT EXISTENTIAL CRISIS THE COMPLEXITIES OF BEING A HUMAN WITH NIKOLAI !!!!!!! HOW FUN!!!!!!!!!!! warnings : mentions of god,,, um,, nothing explicit i swear just existential crisis note : p short, and maybe absurd, my brain hasn't been braining for a while now. unlike my other fics, this one is written in 1st person pov

"Is this why you're always so theatrical, Nikolai?"

"Huh?" Nikolai turned to me, the juggling balls he'd been playing with falling to the floor.

"To mask those emotions deep inside you," I muttered, pulling up my knees to my chest.

Nikolai cocked his head to the side, his silence unbroken as he observed me. His grin then widened, and he closed the distance with dramatic, comically wide strides.

"Well, I guess I do!"

He crouched down before me.

"But you know what, dove? It never really works, if I'm being honest. No matter how much I laugh, make jokes, do magic tricks…"

Letting out a forced giggle, Nikolai held onto his temple and dramatically tossed his head back, bursting into laughter.

"Hahaha! No, no! It's not because I want to 'mask' those emotions, [y/n]! I just think if I suppress them well enough, I won't be able to feel them anymore one day. Then I'll finally be free!"

A grin spread across his lips as he flapped his arms; motioning a bird's wings. I let out a shallow laugh, shaking my head.

"Deep down, you do know that won't be the case, right, Kolya?"

His smile instantly faltered at what I just said.

"..."

For a moment, there was a lull in conversation.

"And why do you think so, dove?"

I had to swallow hard before I could respond with a nod.

"Sure, you technically won't feel anything, but boredom and numbness are still emotions in itself..." I buried my face in my arms, letting out a quiet sigh, "And I have a hunch that you're aware of that, Kolya. But, well, I'm just expressing my thoughts." I continued.

"You didn't need to remind me of that, [Y/N]..." Nikolai muttered out in a hushed voice, taking off his eyepatch and letting it drop to the ground. As it collided with the floor surface, I looked up, finding his gentle yet sorrowful smile.

"There really isn't any freedom, is there?" He said, lifting his hand towards the sky and splaying his fingers as though trying to reach something above. "I suppose we'll be trapped in here forever. We won't ever leave this warm, wet cage, for so long as we're alive."

I let the silence between us sink in for a moment.

"Being a human is so simple, yet so complicated, and so limiting, all at the same time."

A soft laugh emanated from Nikolai as he reached for a strand of my hair, idly twirling it between his gloved fingers. "Go on, dove," He coaxed, encouraging me to speak my mind even more.

"Well... and when people tell me 'your body is your own', it certainly doesn't feel like it. If it really is mine, then why does my emotions, drives and control everything that I do? If it really is mine and mine alone, why am I so controlled by my emotions? It should be the other way around, right?"

"Mhm mhm," the clown hummed, showing he was still listening.

"My emotions... they always feel... so out of control. And why am I driven by my own emotions in the first place? Is it because I'm human? Is it because an entity above me is controlling my emotions, some sort of God, perhaps?"

"..."

"Hahaha! Now, now, that's scary, [y/n]! I certainly would hate that!" Nikolai laughed out loud, the loudness startling me a bit.

"If God is really there, then this just means he can't save anyone." Nikolai's voice softened as he smiled and let go of my hair, his hand now gently cupping my cheek instead. "That's why, we need to find our own way to be free. Find the path to our freedom, in our own ways." he said earnestly.

"I will find a way to free us both," he added, "But for now... I just want to cherish your presence."

I looked at him with a soft smile and asked, "A long day, was it?"

Nikolai agreed with a nod, removing his hat before leaning against me. He slowly closed his eyes and gently took my hand, guiding it to ruffle his silvery locks. "Your touch is so comfortable, can I just take your hand away?" He suddenly spoke, his tone playful.

"I'm not letting you amputate me."

"Hehehehe!" Nikolai only giggled in response and continued to nuzzle against me. "I'm just kidding, dove!"

#nikolai bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #nikolai gogol bsd #bsd x reader #nikolai gogol x reader #nikolai x you #nikolai x y/n #nikolai gogol x you #bungou stray dogs x you #my way of coping w anhedonia hHEHHjehe #bungo stray dogs x reader

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asongofmarvelanddc · 2 years

Text

Duty PT 4½: Robb's POV

PAIRING: Robb Stark X Reader

WORD COUNT: 4753

WARNINGS: None

SUMMARY: Robb is crushing underneath the weight of his responsibilities, and with his wedding looming, there seems to be no end to his plight.

MASTERLIST | ROBB STARK MASTERLIST

A/N: I want to start by saying I am so overwhelmed by the amount of love this series has received while I've been temporarily away from tumblr. I haven't written anything in a while and coming back to see all your amazing comments honestly made me so emotional. I forgot how much I love to write, so from the bottom of my heart, thank you for reminding me. I wish this was part 5, but I've dropped a very (very) rough sneak peek of a future chapter at the end. I hope you enjoy 💞

"What is it?"

Jon is staring at Robb inquisitively. The two have been sitting in silence for some time. They were supposed to be breaking their fast, but Robb got distracted by a letter delivered to him by Maester Luwin. He’s been reading it intently over and over again, eyebrows furrowed as his mind races.

Robb looks up at the sound of Jon’s voice and folds the letter, putting it down to the side.

“Nothing,” he says, as he picks up his fork and attempts to resume eating, but finds he has suddenly lost his appetite.

Jon sits up properly now. He knows that something is wrong, but he doesn’t ask again. Eventually, Robb puts down the fork and balls his fists, a sigh escaping his lips.

“I’m worried,” he confesses, “Not one of these letters from King’s Landing has mentioned Arya.”

“She’s a child, maybe they just—”

“They claim to have two Starks,” Robb cuts him off sharply, “If that were true, they would make it abundantly clear.”

Sansa’s letter came shortly after their father’s arrest and imprisonment — her script, but clearly the Queen’s words. Robb expected to receive parchment covered in Arya’s blotchy scrawls not long after, but nothing ever came. It’s as if she was never in King’s Landing.

Jon is quiet as the implications of Robb's words dawn on him, “They wouldn’t harm her."

Robb stares off into the distance as he considers what the Lannisters might be thinking. Everything in him wishes he could know what is happening at King's Landing.

"No, I don't think they would," he finally mutters, briefly rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms, "Not after Father."

At least that is what he is choosing to believe. What he has to believe in order to keep hold of any sanity that remains in him.

He's tired. Exhausted beyond comprehension. He barely sleeps at night because the thoughts in his head never quiet. There is always something that needs to be done, something that needs attending to, both at Winterfell and at the frontlines.

It's getting to be too much.

Robb sighs heavily and stands up suddenly. "Please, don't speak a word of this to anyone. I don't want Mother to worry," he says as he walks away, "I need to think."

***

More bad news.

A raven from the South carrying a stern rejection from Stannis Baratheon of Robb’s offer of allyship. Robb expected as much, but a part of him had hoped that the old man would put his pride aside and choose to stand with the North.

“He must be confident that he can defeat the Lannister army in battle,” Maester Luwin suggests. There is no such explanation in the short scroll.

“Whatever it is,” Robb says through gritted teeth as he balls up the piece of paper in his hand, “It doesn’t help us.”

He walks over to his desk and sits down, his knuckles pressed together under his chin. His mind is racing.

“What happens if Stannis usurps the throne? Will you bend the knee?”

Robb looks up at Maester Luwin with hard eyes and sets his jaw. “The North will never again bend the knee to a Southern king. Not while I live.”

A look of pride quickly crosses Maester Luwin’s face. Their conversation is interrupted when Catelyn enters, unaware that her son is not alone.

“My Lady,” Luwin bows in greeting before leaving the two.

Catelyn moves closer to the desk where her son is sat shuffling through some papers, “You look tired.”

“There’s much to be done,” Robb shrugs as he reads yet another request for men from one of his Lords to maintain the upkeep of their holdings.

“It can wait,” she says as she places her hand over the letter and lowers it.

Robb looks at her in confusion and she smiles, nodding to the window just behind him. He turns to look outside and sees the sun going down over the castle walls.

“Right.”

He sighs and gets up to put on his cloak, ignoring the sinking feeling in his chest. Catelyn stops him as he heads for the door.

“Before you go, I just want to know that you understand the importance of the commitment you are making tonight.”

“Of course I do. I haven’t taken this decision lightly,” he turns to face her, “We need the Myrrton's army now more than ever."

Catelyn nods slowly, “And what about her? Lady Y/N?”

“What of her?”

She cocks her head to the side, “Do you care for her at all?”

“I care for her well-being, as any husband should his future bride,” his voice is unemotional and steady, “I’m sure she’s finding all of this just as difficult as I am.”

“Perhaps even more so."

Robb frowns in confusion. He knows that whatever you may be feeling today is no different to what he himself is going through. In fact, considering all he has had to sacrifice, he believes that not even you could know how he feels.

"More so?"

Catelyn nods in response.

“After you say those words tonight and become man and wife, you will wake tomorrow in your childhood home, where your family and all the people you grew up with reside,” she says, “Lady Y/N, however, will not return home. Her mother and father will be gone. She will have no one but you."

"Many have been through the same," Robb says in a stoic manner, "I'm sure she will cope."

"But she is not like most young brides, is she?"

Once again, Robb frowns. His mother is staring him dead in the eye as if there is something unspoken yet understood between them, but he can't discern what she is hinting at.

"Mother, what are you talking about?"

She raises a brow. “As much as they say women like to gossip, we know the truth — men talk too," she walks closer to him, "I’m sure you’ve heard the stories from your men. About what happened to her in King’s Landing.”

Robb rolls his eyes dismissively and turns to head for the door, "That's all gossip."

“From what her mother tells me, that isn’t the case."

He stops in his tracks. The whispers he's heard are not simply 'unpleasant' experiences with a suitor – they are downright horrific. There was never a moment when he believed any of those stories could be true.

"I couldn't begin to imagine how she must feel," Catelyn's voice is barely above a whisper, "Yet again marrying for her family’s benefit to a man she doesn’t know and doesn’t trust. She must be terrified.”

He can't help but think back to the one time you spoke of King's Landing, just after he threw these very rumours in your face. The way your voice wavered...

Robb blinks and looks to the side as he starts to feel the unmistakable pit in his stomach caused by guilt.

"I saw her outside just now," Catelyn continues, "She'd just been sick, the poor girl. She claimed she was feeling ill, but I know better."

"I don't know why you're telling me all this, Mother," he turns around to face her, just a hint of exasperation in his tone.

"Do you remember when I asked you to be Sansa's escort when she wanted to visit a friend outside the castle walls? You couldn't be angry with me so you took it out on your sister," she chuckles as Robb rolls his eyes.

"What has that got to do with my marriage?"

Catelyn pauses for a moment before stepping closer to him. She presses her hands against his cheeks and brushes his curls out of his face.

"I know you're not happy about this, Robb. And I wish you could choose to marry someone you truly love," Robb looks away as she speaks, "But this is where fate has led all of us. You don't have to be happy about it, but you must accept it. Promise me, Robb."

Robb knows his mother is right. This marriage isn't as simple as moving pieces on a map, it is not some great battle strategy. After tonight, he will have another person whose care and wellbeing is his sole responsibility.

He may find you snobbish and slightly condescending, and he knows there is not a chance on this earth that he could ever grow to love you as his wife...but this arrangement is not your fault.

He can't keep punishing you for not being the woman he wants.

"I promise, Mother."

***

The serenity of the Godswood offers little comfort to Robb.

Never has he been so sure of a decision, yet so torn apart by it. The moment he goes through with this marriage, he gains an advantage against the Lannisters. Yet, one thought still lingers at the back of his mind: when the war is over, will any of this have been worth it? Will he wake up beside you one morning and regret this night?

Robb is pulled out of his thoughts by Catelyn mouthing something at him from a distance. He can't make it out, but she forms a smile and nods encouragingly, so he mirrors her expression and plasters a smile on his lips.

Before long, two figures begin walking down the cleared path towards him. At first, you're shrouded by shadows and the bodies of some of the guests on either side of the aisle. When you come into full view, your arm is interlocked with your father's as you stare straight ahead.

For a moment, Robb wonders if you see him standing underneath the Weirwood tree, but just as the thought crosses his mind, your gaze falls on him.

As soon as he locks eyes with you, his smile drops. Almost immediately his jaw clenches and his breath catches in his throat. It's a purely uncontrollable reaction, but it happens and Robb finds it strange.

The glistening of the silver on your dress, the unusual braids in your hair...and the look in your eyes when they meet his. It's a look that mirrors how he feels.

He hasn’t been so struck by a woman’s appearance in some time, but the eyes don’t lie, and it is undeniable that on this night, you look beautiful.

As you approach, Robb steps forward, his hands clasped behind him, “Who comes before the gods?”

“Y/N of House Myrrton comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods.”

Lord Cillian seems unsure when he speaks. Robb doesn't know whether the uncertainty in his tone is due to being unfamiliar with these words, or hesitant about this whole affair.

“Who comes to claim her?”

Robb clears his throat as discreetly as he can before lifting his chin.

“Robb of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and King in the North. I claim her,” he announces, “Who gives her?”

“Cillian of House Myrrton, her father.”

Robb watches as Lord Cillian's tone softens when he speaks to you, “Lady Y/N, will you take this man?”

Robb grows anxious as you seem to hesitate before answering, then, like you'd been snapped out of a trance, you whisper something to yourself. His brows furrow as he questions whether you've given the answer they're all waiting for.

Before he has a chance to ask, you look him square in the eye and answer, "I take this man."

Robb is slightly intimidated by the intensity and decisiveness in your gaze. He holds his hand out to you and waits until you slip your hands into his before guiding you towards the heart tree.

As he drops to his knees at the base of the tree, the rest of the world melts away, and it's just him and the gods. But he can't seem to find any words for them.

He has uttered the same prayers over a thousand times in the last year. That his sisters will return home safely and those involved in his father's murder will be brought to justice. None have been answered yet. Still, he whispers the prayer again, choosing to have faith in the gods.

He raises his head only to find that yours is still bowed, your eyes closed. There's a desperation in your posture that makes that feeling of guilt settle in the pit of his stomach again. So, he bows his head yet again and asks the gods for one more thing; that the two of you find peace in this arrangement, in whatever form that takes.

You rise to your feet together and Robb immediately steps closer to you, eager to be done with this ceremony. He removes the maiden cloak that shrouds you and hands it to the man standing behind him, swapping it for the Stark cloak.

As he brushes your hair over your shoulder and out of the way, an unfamiliar scent wafts up his nose, warming his whole body. It’s earthy and spicy, yet sweet – unlike anything he’s ever smelled before. The kind of scent that would be overpowering most times, but you’ve clearly applied just enough to be inviting.

He inhales deeply before resuming with his task.

When you turn to face him, the Stark cloak now shrouding you, Robb suddenly feels the weight on his shoulders grow heavier. He was never one to think about marriage when he was young. Still, he never expected to feel so devoid of any love towards his wife. To look at her and see nothing but yet another burden.

He holds out his arm to you and leads you out of the godswood, the whole time questioning what he could have done to offend the gods and be cursed with such a life.

***

Why isn't she eating?

Robb has been kept entertained for most of the night by his bannermen – it's hard not to be when they're all drunk and feasting. But every time he glances in your direction, he finds you sullen and staring into space, and the thought returns.

Why isn't she eating?

He's noticed it since you arrived at Winterfell. You rarely join them for any meals, and when you do, your plate remains untouched. At the engagement feast, you spent most of the time playing around with your food, but he can't recall seeing you eat any of it. It didn't concern him at the time, but he's finding it strange now so he decides to speak up.

"You haven't touched your stew."

Oddly, you jump at the sound of his voice. He sees confusion in your eyes when you turn to look at him, so he nods to your bowl to reiterate his statement.

"I, um...I'm not very hungry."

It's the first time since the day he met you that you have sounded unsure of your own words. The stutter and the way you avoid his eyes – he knows that you are hiding something.

He leans closer to you in an effort keep the conversation private. "My mother told me that you were sick earlier," he wonders if the mild concern he's feeling is evident in his voice, "Did you have anything to eat after?"

Robb is shocked when you shake your head no.

"Then surely you must be hungry?"

Again, Robb is baffled when you simply shrug in response. He can't read you at all – not that he has ever been able to. In all honesty, it is one of the most frustrating things about you. How is he supposed to be a husband to a stone wall?

Still, he knows that any person who has no food in their stomach must be hungry, whether you confess to it or not. He reaches for a bowl of fruit on his side of the table and places it in front of you. You may dislike the Northern food, but even a man who has enjoyed an entire feast would not say no to a juicy fig.

"You should have some, if you like," he nods to the bowl, but your expression remains unsure. "I wouldn't want my new bride starving herself on the first night," he teases you in an attempt to ease your apparent discomfort.

That seems to do the trick as he notices the glimmer of a smile – a genuine one – on your lips. Satisfied, he takes an apple from the bowl and leans back in his chair, watching you finally reach for something to eat.

He notices how carefully you inspect every fruit, discarding the bruised ones. He's not even sure you realise you're doing it. You have the same look on your face that you did when you walked towards him in the godswood, just before he caught your gaze – in a trance.

"I should've said it earlier, but you look beautiful tonight."

As soon as the words leave his lips, he questions whether he should've said it at all. He meant it, of course, but not in the way that it might come across. His only intention is to be kind. You're his wife now after all.

"Thank you," you smile, though Robb sees the way your brows furrow ever so slightly in confusion, "You look very handsome as well."

You look away before he can even respond and the conversation ends there.

The festivities continue as expected with singing, dancing, and arguments that arise and resolve themselves within seconds. Some of the men tell their most entertaining stories of battle, and Robb is happy to see you laughing at some of their jokes.

Drunk and exhausted, Robb is just about ready to retire for the evening when he hears the words he's been dreading all night.

"It's time for the bedding ceremony!"

In seconds, the women seated nearest to the High Table are on their feet and pulling him towards them. They paw at him, doing their best to undress him as they march him through the Great Hall and towards his bedchambers. He can't discern what is going on through the cheers, the laughter and the comments – it's all too much. By the time the girls arrive with him at his chambers, all they have managed to remove is his tunic.

"Be gentle with the poor girl," one of the women winks as she leaves the room.

Before long, he hears more bellowing laughter and jeering coming down the hall. The men carrying you lower you to the ground at the bedroom doors and push you in before making a swift exit.

Seeing you almost completely undressed and shrinking into yourself, Robb suddenly feels guilty again. The bedding may have simply been an annoyance to him, but it was clearly more than that for you. He shouldn't have let it happen.

He watches as you awkwardly look around the room, avoiding looking in his direction. Robb doesn't move a muscle, fearing that you're seconds away from dashing out of the room.

Without any warning, you spin on your heel and turn your back to him. The sudden action makes Robb jump, but still, he makes no move to approach you.

He's frozen in a way he's never been before, not even before his first battle. Sweat begins to form at his hairline as he wipes his clammy palms on his trousers. He tries to convince himself that it's the heat from the fire burning that's causing this and not his nerves.

He takes a step forward, wanting to reassure you that he won't touch you, even if it's what is expected of you, but the words seem pointless when you lift a hand and lower the strap of your chemise. You do it slowly, and Robb can't tell if this is hesitation or some kind of seduction. Either way, he doesn't know how to respond.

Once the straps come off, the gown slips and reveals what's hidden underneath.

Robb lets out a gasp.

Instantly, he regrets it, knowing he's given the wrong reaction. As you rush to pull the straps back on, Robb struggles to digest what he's seen. Three long and thick scars – one starting from the nape of your neck – jagged and stretching down your back. The wounds look mostly healed, but they can't be more than a few months old. He doesn't have to think about it to know exactly where they came from.

Joffrey.

That is all the proof he needs to confirm the rumours were true. And worse, he fears that this isn't the worst of it. Those scars could've been made by anything from a knife to a whip. The thought of someone doing that to you makes him feel sick.

Slowly, you turn around to face him. He can tell that you're hurt by his reaction, but he can't bring himself to comfort you. He doesn't know how. Just as he thinks you're about to scold him like you've done before, you do the unexpected and begin to approach.

Once again he freezes, and when you stop right in front of him, Robb is unsure what he's supposed to do. You're looking into his eyes like you're searching for something, but he doesn't want to mistake your intentions for anything more.

That doesn't matter because those intentions are made clear when you lean in and press your lips against his.

It's...different.

Your lips are soft, and your scent – that scent. For a brief moment it makes him forget where he is, who you are, and he leans in, arms sliding around your waist. But when your arms wrap around his neck, he misses something.

Elyse. The way her fingers would find their way into his curls.

That's all it takes to snap back to reality. This isn't her. And all of a sudden, she's the only thing on his mind. Her dark hair, her kind smile. The memory of her forms a lump in his throat.

He's tried. This whole night he's tried to put her out of his mind, but even now in what should be the most intimate moment between a man and his wife, Elyse is the only woman he can think about. The guilt returns.

Is that all this marriage will ever be? Constantly feeling guilt and shame whenever he looks at you, knowing Elyse is the only person who will ever occupy his heart?

He feels a wetness on his cheeks and salt on his tongue.

Is she crying?

“Wait, wait. Stop,” Robb suddenly says as he pulls away from you, your cheeks stained with tears, “Are you alright?”

You look at him like you're confused. “What do you mean? I’m fine.”

He raises a thumb to your cheek and wipes away a tear. "You're crying," he says, almost dumbfounded.

The second he says it, you gasp and quickly wipe your cheeks in embarrassment. Robb simply watches in disbelief. You plaster a smile on your lips as you continue wiping away the tears that seem to be beyond your control. You're stumbling, fighting to keep up that stone wall that Robb has been so desperate to see beyond.

“Ignore me,” you chuckle nervously, “My emotions sometimes get the better of me.”

“You don’t have to pretend.”

“I do if I’m to have even a smidgen of comfort tonight.” You're smiling, but there's pain in your voice where you're trying to convey conviction.

Robb softens as he cocks his head to the side and looks at you, “Y/N…we’re not obligated to do anything tonight.”

“What?” your eyes widen ever so slightly, a glimmer of hope appearing.

He shakes his head and turns his gaze to the bed. “You don’t want to do it,” he says, “And without meaning any offense to you, I don’t want to do this either.”

In truth, he can't even entertain the thought of being with anyone but Elyse. Not that he intends to confess that to you.

A sigh of relief escapes his lips once the weight of the consummation is lifted from his shoulders.

“What should we do then?” you ask after a moment, “Shall we return to the feast?”

Robb has been awake since first light. He can't think of anything worse. “It has been a long day for me," he yawns and stretches his muscles, "So unless you desperately want to return to the festivities, I would like to turn in for the night.”

He walks to the bed and collapses on top of it like a sack of flour. The room grows. dimmer as you go around the room blowing out the candles, leaving only the fire from the hearth to illuminate the room.

You climb into the bed on the other side of him and turn your back to him. He knows you're still not used to the Northern cold, yet you make no move to adjust the blanket despite the fact that it is barely covering your body.

Without a word, he lifts himself off the blanket and slips under it so that there's enough for you. Then he tucks a hand under his head and lets his eyes flutter closed.

“I had my own Elyse.”

His eyes snap right back open.

He turns his head to face you even though you can't see him, shocked beyond belief and rendered speechless.

“He was an armourer I met simply by chance,” you continue, “He was my comfort and my peace during the hardest period of my life. And I loved him for it.”

Just like that, everything makes sense. Your callousness about his feelings for Elyse. The words you threw so casually in his face.

"You're not the first to have loved and lost. You won't be the last."

At the time he knew you were speaking from experience, but he never expected a confession.

He quickly turns his gaze to the ceiling when he realises that you're turning to face him.

“Was it like that for you?”

The memory of the days after his father's death wash over him like a wave. Never had he ever felt such deep sorrow. It burrowed into his bones like a disease, and he never thought he would be rid of that pain.

Not until Elyse.

When he turns back to you, your eyes are staring deep into his. The fire from the hearth is casting a warm glow over your face, but it's the moonlight from the open window just above your heads that is reflected in your eyes. His gaze lingers for a moment before he answers.

“Yes,” he admits, “Elyse and I…After my father’s death is when we grew close.”

You nod and look down at the sheets.

“When I left King’s Landing, I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye to him,” you whisper, voice trembling, “I wanted to thank him for making me happy after everything that happened.”

Robb’s eyes stay on you, but not once does he speak. He doesn't know which is worse; having to see the person you love everyday, knowing you can never be with her, or never getting the chance to even say goodbye.

He looks at you and knows that your heart is no more available than his own. Even though you don't say it, it's clear as day in your eyes – you haven't let go of your armourer, and you probably never will.

Without saying any more, you turn to face the other way, whispering a quick, “Goodnight.”

This is the rest of his life, he realises. A wife who will forever be just out of arms' reach, and the woman he loves never to be his again. An undoubtedly cursed existence. One he can do nothing about.

Ignoring the hollow feeling in his chest, he turns to face away from you.

“Sleep well.”

***

SNEAK PEEK FOR ONE OF THE FUTURE CHAPTERS:

“I’m not happy, and I’m not content.”

“Happiness and contentment are a luxury most of us do not get to enjoy," he snaps.

“Some people deserve it. After all they’ve been through.”

Robb scoffs and turns to you. “We’ve all been through terrible things. You’re not the only one.”

“I know. I know the tragedy you’ve endured,” you climb off the bed and walk towards him slowly, “Even now I see how much burden you carry on your shoulders.”

You take his hand in yours and look into his eyes, “Don’t you owe it to yourself to try and find any happiness?”

Robb’s gaze lingers as he considers it for a moment. A brief moment. Then he snatches his hand from hers and heads for the door.

You're shocked by this, and suddenly a burning anger begins to swell in her chest. A rage that felt a lot like hatred. Hatred because of how selfish and stubborn he was being.

“I know you’ve heard the rumours about Joffrey and I,” he freezes in his steps as you speak, “Yet you’ve never asked me about them.”

Slowly, you walk towards him and stand in front of him, blocking the door. “You’ve also seen the scars on my body — scars that not even my parents have seen. And you never asked me about those either.”

You cock your head to the side as you look into his avoiding eyes. “Why is that?” you ask in a genuine tone, “Do you not want to know? Or are you afraid to know?”

He avoids your eyes as you wait for him to speak, to say anything. But he never does.

“You won’t ask?" you raise a brow, "Very well. Then I shall ask you a question of my own.”

“Have you ever been violated?” you ask through gritted teeth, “And I don’t mean someone taking your home or your father away from you, I mean personally violated. To have everything stripped away, to be broken down into a shell of nothingness. No fight, no dignity, no will…to do anything.”

You stand on your toes and lean forward until your shaky breath is fanning his face and your rage-filled eyes are burning into his, “That is what Joffrey did to me.”

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