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somethingvicked · 1 month

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True love of mine part 2.

An Eddie Munson story

Stranger Things AU (no Upside-Down)

warnings: Female reader, slight angst, flexible timeline.

(Credit to artist of whatever pictures I use - I find them online, don't own! Special thanks to @velvetmayhem that allowed me to use her edit for this fic!)

Chapter 1

Now

Y/N

You walked into the grocery store before heading home, just to grab a few toiletries. Brent was a boyfriend most people could only dream of but he still bought you the wrong shampoo, despite the fact that you had been together for nearly three years.

Fiancé, you corrected yourself. Brent was now your fiancé.

You wondered if the thought should have made your heart flutter, or a geyser of joy making your eyes tear up but neither happened. You just felt... not numb and not unhappy. Like it was… okay.

You looked down on your left ring finger, seeing the ring glittering there.

You didn’t feel thrilled about seeing that either. Instead it made you feel guilty about how little time you had spent looking at it since it made itself at home on your finger.

It wasn’t like you weren’t happy about this. You were! Brent was a wonderful man; sweet, funny and he cared about you!

Okay, he was a bit boring at times but no one was perfect, right?

It was not Brent’s fault that you still had a tear in your heart which never seemed to heal. A hole left by someone that no one else could ever fill.

Eddie Munson.

After all these years it still hurt to think about Eddie Munson and how much you had loved him. The plans you’ve both had. How you had promised each other there would never be anyone else for either of you.

Typical children’s dreams one might think.

And it seemed Eddie thought so too, considering he had suddenly disappeared on you.

One day when you were in your first year of college and Eddie on his third (and last) attempt to finish high school, Wayne, his uncle, had called you and worriedly asked if Eddie was with you. He had just vanished and left a letter where he said not to look for him.

You had gotten worried, of course and come home immediately; not that it had helped. No one knew where Eddie had gone or why. Not the guys in Corroded Coffin (his band), not the members of Hellfire Club, the Dungeons & Dragons club Eddie was the leader of, not Wayne… no one.

Wayne had tried talking to the police but they had shut him down – Eddie was over eighteen and he hadn’t stolen anything from Wayne, like credit cards or money, they couldn’t track him down and bring him home. The few items he had brought with him – like Sweetheart, Eddie’s beloved electric guitar – were his. The van was as his as well. Since Eddie had left a note there wasn’t a case of a missing person either.

You couldn’t understand it. Eddie had just upped and left. Left all of you. Left you. Without even a word of explanation.

Your mother had comforted you, saying that Eddie was a scum and you were better off without him. That you would forget and love others.

She was wrong. You had never forgotten. And despite trying your best you had never loved anyone like you had loved Eddie.

You’d even kept the tattoo you two had gotten when you were 16 and he was 17 – Eddie knew a guy that knew a guy … - you both had settled on Roman numerals for the date you had met. Both of you wanted something that no one else would understand and that didn’t draw too much attention.

You had thought about covering it up or even getting rid of it. But you couldn’t.

Eddie may have cut off contact with you but he still had his hold of your heart.

It wasn’t like he was dead either. The year you finished college Eddie had gotten his breakthrough on the metal scene.

He was now one of the most famous metal singers out there, living in Los Angeles. He was a one man band, wrote all the lyrics himself, but of course he had a team working around him.

By pure curiosity – and perhaps to torture yourself – you had listened to a few of his songs. You had recognized one or two that he had written himself back in Hawkins but never one he had done for Corroded Coffin. And never one of those you helped him with.

You loved to write, poetry especially. When Eddie found out he had been like an excited puppy, wanting to hear everything, and wanted your input on some songs he had written.

That’s how you two ended up collaborating on most of the songs he did the year before disappearing.

But he never used those. If there was any sign that you were dead and forgotten to him, it was that. As if fate was playing a trick on you, you walked past the magazine stand and your eyes fastened on a pair of dark chocolate brown orbs, staring out from a cover.

Eddie was on the cover of Rolling Stone, looking outragesly good in leather pants and a black tank top, showing off his muscular arms and tattoos.

Without meaning to your gaze drifted down to his left ringfinger, wanting to know whether he was single or not.

Nothing. No ring. Back then, in Hawkins he used to wear all his rings on the left hand and just a single one on the right one. But now he had rings on his index finger, middle finger and thumb, none of his ring finger.

You suddenly realized what you were doing and closed your eyes against the tears burning behind the lids. What were you doing?

You were the one with a ring on your left ringfinger, you were newly engaged to Brent and you were acting like a stalker on your high school sweetheart!

It was humiliating.

You opened your eyes to walk away but that’s when your gaze caught something else too.

On Eddie’s left arm – you had decided it would be the left arm because it was closest to the heart – above the fold of the arm – there it was. The tattoo. The Roman numbers.

He hadn’t… he hadn’t gotten it covered up either (and Eddie had added way more tattoos to his body than you had over these years, it was not like he hadn’t had the chance!) or gotten it removed by laser.

What did that… what did it mean?

You didn’t know.

But one thing was crystal clear to you. If you checked your high school sweetheart’s hand for a wedding ring, if seeing your matched tattoo on your old lover did more than you actual fiancé proposing to you… then something wasn’t right and you couldn’t pretend anymore.

It wasn’t right to Brent. And you needed to do something, because it didn’t feel healthy to act this way.

Perhaps you needed therapy but first of all you needed to stop lying to yourself. You didn’t love Brent, not like the way you should love him at least. And he didn’t deserve to be strung along by you.

You still loved Eddie Munson – you had never stopped, and it wasn’t because you hadn’t tried to move on, because you had.

Maybe you needed closure, to tell him everything that you felt and just get it out?

Regardless, Brent needed to come first. He had always come second, truthfully because he made you feel better, so you had gone with the flow, despite knowing that he would never be first in your heart but now… now you needed to make things right with him and tell him the truth.

You didn’t look forward to it but it had to be done.

Silently you said goodbye to the photo of Eddie and headed toward the cashiers.

Then.

Hawkins, 1977.

Eddie

Eddie and his band mates exited the scene of the talent show, a lot of the audience booing, which was expected. Chrissy Cunningham clapped her hands though – that girl was never mean to anyone (even though she never intervened when someone else was) as did the new girl.

She had arrived the day before yesterday – Eddie had noticed the new car when he sat at the playground, reading, mostly so he wouldn’t disturb his old man’s hung-over sleep.

Yesterday it had been her first day at school. Seemed she was a year younger than him, but that didn’t matter much; because she moved here she was more of an outsider than he was, and no one was talking to her. He wanted to say hi, to ask her if she wanted to hang out with him and his gang but… if she had any chance of making new friends in Hawkins, they would quickly diminish after talking to him, Eddie Munson.

Suddenly her name was spoken and Eddie turned his head, seeing her walk up to the stage. Was she participating?

“Y/N is going to read a poem she has written herself,” the teacher said, Y/N looking out over the crowd, not looking nervous at all.

Then she started, looking down in her notes and started to read a poem about a Viking warrior (she had Scandinavian heritage he learned later):

"A night so cold and the moon was shining clear A man all alone came along A sword and armor of alves he did wear A friend, yet they sounded the gong The witch hunt is on and wolves call in the forest, Calling the man as one of them “Hang him, the abhorrent,” It’s the likes of him we condemn,” He was judged by men so filled by their hate They came to enjoy his demise Through lies and deceit it is hard to see clear He heard them toast their despise But then A man so wise and learned from the script Defended the man in his need He said, what right do you have, to do this to him, he, He who came as a friend Let him be freed! The witch hunt is off Yet wolves call in the forest Calling the man as one of them Singing their choruses Of how no real killer came."

Eddie was listening with his mouth open. The poem was beautiful – it was talking about being different and judged. But it was the way she was talking about armor and weapons made by alves, a warrior connected with wolves? Her whole face lit up.

She got a rather tame applause from the rest. Eddie could understand why – she had written a beautiful poem but it had been about magic, alves and Viking warriors. That wasn’t people in Hawkins were prone to. Even less a girl writing about it and adding violence.

But Eddie liked it. He liked her.

Y/N.

taglist: @ali-r3n @ficsbypix @mewchiili @jenniquinn @eddiemunsonfuxks

(let me know if you want to be on the taglist!)

please, like, comment and reblog!

Your likes are wonderful but reblogs expand my reading circle.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things fanfic #stranger things au #joseph quinn

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buckyownsmylife · 3 years

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I’m a Believer - John Winchester smut

The one where John’s a demon

Warnings: smut, NONCON, john is possessed by a demon, reader is restrained, fingering, p in v, mention of blood and licking of said blood, mention of puking, mention of crying, dirty talk, taunts

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: this fic was requested a while ago! Special thanks to @danneelsmain for looking this over for me! This fic is entirely from the reader’s POV and so I tried to something different: when she’s refering to John, she uses “he” or “him”, but when she refers to the demon, she uses “it” or “thing”. It might be a bit confusing, so I figured I’d make it clear here! Happy reading!

“Do you want to tell me what you like?” His voice had goosebumps running down my body, calling out for my attention. Even when he wasn’t a demon, he had that effect on me. John just had this power over people, it forced them to instinctively respect him. “Or would you prefer to just let me do whatever I want to you?” When his breath ran over my skin, I shivered, struggling against the binds that tied me to his bed.

It was just my luck, really. Waking up to find myself restrained and naked, under the watchful gaze of a black-eyed John. I knew pleading was out of question. I had too much pride to do that, anyway.

Something inside of me knew John wouldn’t like to see me beg for my life either. And even though it shouldn’t be something I was concerned about in a dangerous situation, I couldn’t help but want to make him proud. So no, I would take this in stride. If I was going to die tonight, it’d be dignified. Or as dignified as I could be while completely naked and exposed to the probably cause of my death.

“You know…” he spoke, in a voice that was John’s and wasn’t at the same time, raising goosebumps all over my skin at that deep tone that sounded familiarly foreign. “Crawling out of hell is damn worth it to see such a pretty little pussy all spread out for me to ruin.”

I turned my face away so I wouldn’t feed into its egocentric need to get a reaction out of me, but it didn’t seem to work at all. “Aw…” It cooed, “There’s no need to be shy. He’s been thinking about this cunt a lot, you know?”

Again, I didn’t know how to feel about this, yet my body seemed to know exactly how to react - the idea of John thinking of me in any sort of sexual way undeniably arousing, making my nipples stiffen in the air of the evening while I could feel myself slowly start to get wet.

“If you could only see the things he wants to do with it…” It had approached me now, firm hand that still felt too much like John’s grabbing my jaw to raise my gaze to theirs. “Bury his cock between these lips…”

A thumb brushed against my lower lip, but it was quickly gone. The thing chuckled, almost to himself, before clarifying what it is that it considered so funny. “I’d satisfy them all if I didn’t think you’d bite his dick off.” I wouldn’t say that the thing was wrong, but I wouldn’t destroy what I was certain to be a fine specimen of the male physique without some sort of grief over it.

Suddenly, a pair of lips fell upon mine, gifting me a kiss so surprising that I couldn’t help but moan, and then a tongue slipped inside my mouth, prying me open, forcing me to accept it.

“Oh, darling… We’re gonna have so much fun together.”

First came his fingers. They spread my lower lips open to start his exploration through visual means, just softly running over the edge of my hole to tempt more of my wetness to pour out.

When it did, he penetrated me. Two digits at once, immediately curled to find my special spot, the one that had my toes curling, my ankles struggling against the binds that held me down.

“Oh, yes…” It hissed, “You take these fingers so well…” I liked that the thing acknowledged it wasn’t his fingers, but John’s. It made me feel somewhat better about the sopping, wet sounds that reverberated across the room as it fucked me without mercy, getting me wetter and stretched for it to insert another finger.

“Good girl.” The praise was too much for me to take. It reminded me of John too much, the rare occasions he would look at me with those deep brown eyes and recognize that I’d done well on a job.

It made me miss him, even though his body was standing right there, his arm enthusiastically moving as he brought me to a loud release. “There you go…” The thing whispered, and I could feel the dark gaze on my skin, burning it. “We can’t wait to see how well you take his cock.”

The way it was said had tears stinging my eyes, but I wouldn’t give in. Especially not after the demon cooed, “Oh, won’t you cry, little one?” The nickname felt so sinful in John’s voice, I bit my lip so hard it drew blood, which the creature promptly leaned over to lick it off of me.

“Won’t you let me taste your tears as well?” I turned my head to the side, trying to avoid it, telling myself not to give it what it wanted. “I can feel your fear…” It sang, making me want to puke all over John’s handsome face. “Won’t you show me it?”

When I didn’t answer, he sighed, getting up and taking his fingers out of me. I tried not to whine, but I was only human. The chuckle it released in response only made me feel worse.

When John’s body joined me in bed, dipping the mattress, my stomach seemed to fall down to my feet. “I want you to watch it,” the thing ordered, fingers digging into my cheeks so it could raise my face just enough to see as a thick hardness inserted itself between my thighs, and slowly pushed it in.

It didn’t hurt. I was too wet for it to even sting. When John’s cock finally bottomed out inside of me, stretching me in ways I’d never been stretched before, I even gasped, half in surprise, half in arousal, too conflicted by my own feelings to be able to focus on anything other than the way the head of his member was pressing precisely where no man had ever managed to hit.

“Do you see it?” The thing asked, and I opened my eyes again to see that John had tilted his head, eyes looking almost curious, piercing me with their darkness. “See how well your little cunt takes us?”

I wouldn’t entertain it with a response. But then - maybe in punishment, although it felt more like a reward - it slammed his hips against mine, prompting a loud moan to escape my chest, making the thing laugh.

“Yes, isn’t it beautiful? Your pussy is taking every inch of it so hungrily. Let’s see how long it takes until it’s weeping around it.” I tried to wiggle away as best as I could, more out of my own morals than anything else, but it pulled me back to spear me on John’s cock until eventually, I succumbed to it.

I didn’t have any other choice. I started the night wondering how John would feel once he realized how many lines were crossed in our relationship tonight, but now I wondered if this demon’s hunger would ever truly be sated.

It seemed like my future would be to forever stay here, getting pounded by John’s body while both of us were forced to witness it happening, unable to stop it.

#my fics #my requests #john winchester request #john winchester smut #john winchester #smut #tw noncon #demon au #tw restraints #john winchester x reader #john winchester reader #john winchester reader insert

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starstruck-shima · 3 years

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The Darknight...Heroes?! (Diluc)

Notes: fem reader, mentions of injury, fighting, and bruises.

Maybe I’ll make a full blown fic of this if it gains interest!

“In which Mondstadt gains itself a new vigilante of the night, even catching the eye of none other than Diluc himself.”

Mondstadt was the home of many things, like the thousand winds that Barbatos brought to its lands. It was also known that like the wind, words travel far, and as dandelion seeds find fresh abodes, so does the ever so growing gossip in the walls of Mondstadt.

Diluc was never one for idle chatter. No, he’d rather not be the one talking--instead, he’s merely a passive person, one who learns from either the networks he has under his grasp, or the chit chat of bar goers when he shows up in the taverns.

Tonight’s topic however, had proved to be quite the rose amongst thorns, as for once, even the ever so silent Diluc had been intrigued by what the people of Mondstadt were sharing beneath hushed whispers.

“Hey, have you heard the rumors?” Initially thinking it was merely something insignificant, Diluc’s attention was suddenly caught by the customer’s second words. “There’s another person fighting monsters at night!”

“Eh?? Other than the darknight hero? Are you sure it isn’t just him?” Diluc wants to scoff at the name that had been slapped onto his nighttime persona. But this was something most noteworthy--it wouldn’t hurt to listen on even further.

“Nah, this is a girl we’re talking about. One of my men were rescued by her!” As the men kept conversing, more and more patrons joined, adding their two cents. Eyewitnesses say that she fights during the night too, and it couldn’t have been the Darknight Hero--their builds and fighting techniques were different. The townspeople called her “Nightwing.”

He’d say it was corny, but compared to “Darknight Hero”... it seems that Mondstadt had a theme going on with cheesy vigilante names.

When he returned to his abode after his shift, he feels an unknown feeling bubble in his chest. A feeling that begs for him to get to the bottom of this.

He didn’t know why--it was none of his business. Yet the ambiguity of this “Nightwing”, and the fact that she was so shrouded in mystery kept bothering him, especially when his informants came back dry. This only drove him to believe that this new vigilante wasn’t just some nobody--she knew how to hide her tracks well. And that was quite unsettling.

It wasn’t long until Kaeya confronted him about the issue as well. Obviously, it wasn’t Diluc. But if so, who was this other person? Who would dare risk their life at night fighting monsters, and for what reason?

Kaeya explains that no one in the knights reminded him of their 2nd Darknight hero (a term Diluc glared at), and that he could freely turn his head away from the knights, opting instead to look at a wider scope. But who else would fit the criteria of a nighttime vigilante, if she had no occupation nor training with the knights and could freely roam around undetected? You’d have to be smart, and in the right occupation to be able to keep up the vigilante work with no suspicion. (Just like him)

Enter you--Mondstadt’s sweetheart bachelorette. Known far and wide to be the talk of the town whenever your deeds of kindness reached the public. A loyal believer of Barbatos, an avid chess player, and from the times Diluc has shared with you, you were most definitely as true as the rumours would say.

But Diluc knew things beyond the surface. He’s seen cracks and double meanings be uttered from your mouth, and he’s seen that look behind your eyes too many times (especially when you conversed with people whose morals did not align with yours in parties). Even mist corollas shed danger despite their beauty.

You became his prime suspect--and it was only a matter of time until he uncovers the truth. In fact, it was as if it was too easy...

It was during an afternoon walk through his vineyards when it happened. When he started to open up a case regarding the abyss order. He didn’t let the slight stiffen of your posture go unnoticed, and as soon as he shot his question to add you to his suspicions, it was as if it all made much more sense. “The Abyss Order... do you dislike them?”

His eyes widened a bit at your response. “I despise them.” You said such bitter words with a smile. Your exterior as Mondstadt’s sweetheart faded for just a bit--and Diluc saw her. Nightwing.

The timing couldn’t be more perfect for him to test his theory out into the field, for as soon as a mere weeks later, out came a declaration from the order, targeted specifically to Mondstadt’s two vigilantes.

The knights were livid, of course. Honestly, it was funny how a repeat of the last time they were on Diluc’s tail happened--yet instead of him having to step in and distract them himself, something peculiar had already moved them away from him. The knights were distracted by the sudden influx of angry hilichurls storming through the fronts of Mondstadt, and it left him an easy entry to where the abyss order would strike--one of the temples near the city. (And on the way there, he noticed some smashed hilichurl camps. So that was why they were angry...)

It was there where he fought the first wave of the Abyss Order with ease, yet you were nowhere to be found. It only irked him more. You weren’t the type to just back out--no, you were smart enough to never get hurt, but you’d never let the Abyss Order get the last laugh. That was a line reserved for you.

He’d never let his agitation get the better of him, but the waves of enemies didn’t seem to stop. it was getting more and more troublesome, and though he’d be able to clear them by himself, he was still human.

Before he could ever succumb to anything however, help reigned from above, and when he saw the other protector of Mondstadt for the first time, he knew it wasn’t just Nightwing. It was you.

And you’re never one to back down nor abandon Mondstadt. (It was scary how it felt like he was staring into a mirror.)

As soon as the fight ended, he finally got to take a good look at the second darknight hero, and lo and behold, he was met with the same kind eyes that held glaciers upon glaciers of depth and secrets. Secrets that the two of you were willing to keep.

“Hello Diluc.”

“Hello (Y/n).”

Ah, so you knew as well. And you knew that he knew. So that was how you planned things out.

It all made sense, somewhat. The way it became so easy to find clues and hints, the way a path was somehow laid out or him--it was all you, strumming a lyre and making him dance along.

Leave the bait out. Test the waters. Then, hook line and sinker. It wasn’t something any ordinary person would do, even with the high risk and reward. No, to be able to pull this off, and to be able to even be able to do this night after night required a mind that knew how the game worked. And you had everything tied around your finger.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #fem reader #x reader #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #genshin diluc #kaeya alberich #just a cameo though tbh #mayhaps i'll make a part two #diluc x y/n

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itrytowrite-things · 3 years

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Murder podcasts

Spencer Reid x reader

Summary: Y/N has a tendency to listen to murder podcasts while doing chores, one day Spencer comes in unannounced scaring Y/N into action. (This summary sucks but it’s fluffy)

A/N: shout out to @with-paint, she helped me form some of this fic so check them out.

The eerie background music and narrator filled the kitchen as I scrubbed diligently at a plate. I blinked down at it, trying in vain to remember what the hell I used it for that would cause such a stubborn stain of food. Sighing, I squeezed the soap bottle some more and ran hot water over it. Maybe soaking it would help?

Grabbing a few of the cups I had washed, I spun around from the sink to a towel I had laid out earlier. I scrunched my nose as cold soap suds ran down my arm, hit my elbow and fell to the floor in a sticky mess I didn’t want to deal with right now.

I was so engrossed in the podcast playing over the Alexa that I barely even processed the grueling chore that was longer than normal. I was lost in the words, that an hour longer scrubbing at dishes seemed almost fun. The dishwasher had completely died a couple of weeks ago.

Normally Spencer would speed read the manual to figure out what was wrong with the stupid machine. But unfortunately, his case in Michigan was taking longer than he anticipated. So, he hadn’t been home to look into it, leaving me to hand wash the dishes. I didn’t mind, it was a mindless task and allowed me to catch up on my favorite podcast.

“They found her body a week later, twenty minutes from their house,” I shook my head at that, case freaking solved. Her husband obviously killed her. I mean there’s no way the police didn’t solve this case, come on.

I moved from the towel back to the sink, sticking my hands back into the soapy water. I always believed that I should be a detective. I could solve these cases easily, Spencer claims that suspicion can only take me so far and the reason that they don’t catch the guy is not because they don’t suspect it, but because they don’t have hard evidence. I normally just scoff and give him a kiss knowing that I would get the bad guy in the end, “hard evidence” my ass.

“Two months later the police came in and found Jeff’s disembodied head laying on their kitchen counter.” My jaw dropped and I turned around furiously, bringing a wet butter knife with me, on instinct I pointed the knife at the device.

“Oh shit.” I said to the speaker, as if it were relaying the case itself. Well turns out I was wrong. I cleared my throat and lowered the stupid knife. I placed it down and tried my best to look less scandalized. We all make mistakes. So I might have been a little off in my husband theory, but I mean I had only heard half the case at that point so it doesn’t speak anything of my amazing detective skills. I nodded at that and tossed the knife into a little stack of silverware. The metallic sound echoing around the kitchen. I smirked at my good throw and turned back to the sink.

I quickly got into the true grove of washing the dishes, listening to the more gruesome details of the case. Turns out the killer did quite a number on old Jeff. I was halfway done with the remaining dishes when I felt a tap on my shoulder sending my heart into a frenzy.

I whirled around quickly bringing the closest item with me as a weapon. The plastic spatula slapped the asalint straight in the face creating an awfully loud twack sound that bounced off the kitchen walls. I blinked in horror at realizing who exactly was standing in front of me.

Spencer's cheek turned red immediately.

“Oh my god! Spence! I am so sorry!” I dropped the spatula and brought my other hand to his face trying to soothe his skin. My hand was covered in water and soap suds, and it dripped down his face onto the already wet floor.

“I am so so sorry. You scared me.” I rubbed my thumb over the spot, feeling his heated skin. Jesus, I felt awful. I didn’t hold anything back when I hit him. I figured I was fending for my life, not greeting my boyfriend.

“It’s okay.” His much larger hand cupped mine removing it from his face. The redness had died down a little, making his skin a rosy pink instead of the previous bright red. He looked adorable which only made me feel worse. Who looks that cute after getting slapped in the face with a spatula?

Spencer startled me yet again when a chuckle came bubbling out of him. His laugh was like someone bottled the sound of happiness. It made my own laughter arise every time without a doubt even if I didn’t understand what was funny.

“I guess I don’t have to worry about you protecting yourself.” A loud squeak sound emitted from my body unexpectedly followed by more laughter. I slapped him very lightly across the chest, kissing his unharmed cheek.

“You're lucky I wasn’t cutting vegetables.” I said, rustling my way into his arms pulling his body against my tightly, loving the way his laughter shook my entire body. I felt the short press of his lips against the crown of my head before tucking my head into the nook of his neck. I inhaled deeply, taking the scent of him with me. The apartment had started to lose its scent with him being gone for so long. I was beyond eager for the apartment to smell like us again.

“I think those podcasts are giving you wild ideas.”

“They would never find your body Dr.Reid.” I teased, poking gently at his side making him squirm in my grip. Another round of laughter filled the small space, it was only when it died down that I realized my podcast was still running in the background.

“Alexa, stop,” I shouted into the air stopping the podcast. “The neighbor did it.” I said with coincidence knowing that my answer was correct this time. Spencer let out a belt of laughter, nodding his head, a big grin on his face.

I pulled back from Spencer taking in his features for the first time. He looked tired, his eye bags had doubled creating a skunk in effect. I could see the trouble in his eyes, the case was hard. It killed me to see him after a hard case, he looked more and more defeated after each one. However, it was what he loved doing and my job wasn’t to erase the trauma of his job, but to ease him back into daily life. I thumbed his eye bags lazily, a pout taking over my face.

“You wanna take a shower and I’ll start us some dinner.” I asked gently. Not wanting to completely destroy the quiet we created. He nodded slightly looking younger than ever. I quickly pulled him back into me taking all of his weight. “I love you bub.” His hair felt silky against my fingertips as I disentangled the curls.

“Love you too.” He mumbled, his heated breath warming my skin. I waited a few comfortable minutes rocking our conjoined bodies in the cozy silence of our kitchen, I took a deep breath and said what was on my mind.

“You wanna talk about it?”

I don’t ever ask Spencer for the details of his cases. He either goes into a tangent without prompting or doesn’t feel like talking about it. I used to think that talking to Spencer about his job would be like listening to my murder podcasts. It honestly was one of the things I was excited for, but I soon found out it’s nothing like that.

When Spencer spoke of cases it was personal. He felt every death that was caused and saw every killing through the eyes of monsters. He held so much emotion in his voice when he spoke of the victims, that I often can’t help but cry. How a person can hold that much pain and still continue to do it everyday, is beside me.

He shook his head, squeezing my torso before finally pulling back and placing a soft kiss to my lips.

I continued the dishes, washing the last few. I left the podcast off, listening instead to the shower from down the hall. I scrubbed off the last of the grime before starting the oven. A simple dinner was always best in these situations. I pulled out a pre-made chicken pot pie from the freezer and placed it in the oven.

As I moved to dry and put away the dishes while waiting for pie to finish. Spencer emerged from the bathroom freshly bathed. He wore a thin gray shirt paired with some soft looking sweatpants. My upper lip jutted out automatically. God I love him.

“Feel better?” I kept my voice low, not wanting to startle any peace that the shower might have brought him. He nodded slowly.

“What did you cook?”

“A chicken pot pie, I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s perfect.” He smiled and returned to my arms, kissing my neck once before tucking his head into my neck. The edge of his wet hair scraped against my skin in an uncomfortable way, yet I only moved enough to rub circles into his back.

A loud beep emitted from the oven caused me to jump in Spencer's arms. He let out a small chuckle.

“Pick us something to watch and I’ll plate us some food.” I hummed turning my back to him. I heard him walking towards the living room as I bent to retrieve the hot food.

Spencer sat criss cross on the couch, Les Enfants du Paradis was displayed on the TV. I handed him the steaming bowl and sat down, sitting close enough for our knees to knock together. I have no idea what Les Enfants du Paradis was, but I would watch literally anything he wanted as long as he was here.

“It’s in French, but I figured I could whisper the translations to you while we watch. Or I could pick something else?”

“No! This is perfect Spence. I love it when you translate, you tell the story better.” He let out a little blush highlighting his previous slap mark. I bit my lip and winced slightly, “How’s your face?”

He touched the spot faintly, he didn’t wince when his fingers made contact which was a good sign. However, I have an inkling that a small bruise would form in the center of the slap which was going to be a fun story to tell his colleagues Monday.

“I’ve had worse, but you wield a lot of power with a cheap piece of plastic.”

“I am professionally trained in the art of spatula wielding Spence, don’t try that at home.” I stared at him, my face blank before a blast of laughter came out of both of us. One can only be so serious when you are talking about slapping people in the face with kitchen utensils.

Spencer started up the movie, and we remained there for the rest of the evening. Laughter and dramatic sighs followed by even more dramatic translations from Spencer. At some point he went so off script that even I could tell his story was bullshit. I didn’t call him out though just allowed him to spit nonsense, I would let him create fake French stories until he was blue in the face if that meant we got to stay in this happy bubble forever.

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #doctor reid #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #reid fluff #spencer fluff #cm #cm x reader #criminal minds #dr. spencer reid #spencer #spencer reid fluff #x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer x you #y/n

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symphonyofthewrite · 4 years

Text

If These Walls Could Talk

Freaking GORGEOUS cover art by Junki Sakuraba on Instagram and Deviantart!! Definitely go check him out!! His art is incredible, and from what I can tell he’s really nice dude. He absolutely went above and beyond with this prompt. 10/10 would commission again. (And probably will once I save up enough money XD)

The wonderful art later in the chaper is by niuan_ on instagram!!

It wasn’t made/commissioned for this fic--(though I’ve since commissioned her to make cover art for me, so stay tuned for those!)--but when I saw it I couldn’t believe it!! That’s one of my favorite images in this chapter, and I couldn’t believe another artist made a piece for the same idea independently!!

I'll put the links to their profiles either in the replies or a reblog (since tumblr is dumb about links)!!

Also, FYI, I'll be using this post as my "reblog post" meaning I'll reblog this post with the later chapters of this fic, so they're all in one place. So if you want to read more of this fic, check the reblogs on this post, chances are more chapters will be there!!

Comments and reblogs are MORE than appreciated!! If you have a spare minute you will really make my week, and motivate me to keep writing!!

Fandom: Castlevania Netflix

Summary: Vampires do not have reflections, and castles do not have hearts. But Dracula is no ordinary vampire, and Castlevania is no ordinary castle. If castles can fight, maybe they can think too.

The series, and Adrian’s childhood, told from the perspective of the castle.

Chapter Summary:

“My mother’s name was Lisa, and she was mortal…She actually showed up at his front door. She found the castle and banged the door with the pommel of her knife…She was remarkable. She beat on the door until my father let her in, and then demanded he teach her how to be a doctor.”

Chapter 1: "Lisa”

“Is this how the castle felt to you before my mother first arrived at your door?”

The castle doesn’t like children.

Well, maybe that’s too strong to say. It simply isn’t the place for them. Its existence is a signpost: leave me alone. It is not used to having company—much less a family—inside it, nor is it ready to welcome for a crying, puking, giggling thing into the world. It does not intend to be a cozy place to coddle him into adulthood.

The castle itself pierces the sky, its turrets and towers the dripping stain of the sun’s blood across the moon.

The bare walls hold no colorful tapestries for a child to enjoy, no paintings of its many inhabitants to tell of—for there was only ever one (and maybe that ought not change. It is safe to say the castle doesn’t like change). The royal red and gold carpets are more suited to kings; not designed for spit-up, mud, and scuffing. ‘Don’t play with that’ would be a motto around here; so many contraptions either easy to break, or which could break the child. The fireplaces, while almost always lit, only ever coughed warmth onto the floor before them—they provided no snug space to curl up on a winter’s day. Even the mirrors here are empty, holding nothing but a reflection of the bare walls they sit upon.

There are certain people who were seemingly born as they are; they never owned toys, never crawled on the floor, never walked with clumsy steps—their footfalls were always this calculated count—never burped on their mother’s nice shirts, and surely never had anything so dull as a childhood. They were always just…here, on the world. There was no innocence, and no losing it. So it was with Dracula.

The very thought of Dracula ever owning toys, even in some nice cottage far away from here, with a doting mother and an absent father, with a funny last name like Cronqvist, defied sense to the castle. So no, no toys here, nor any simple charts for learning; the books divulged their secrets to more mature minds. Just blood and books, gold and gears, forgotten magic means, mirrors that reflect nothing, and a pile of prayers to a good God they used to justify their ungood, and ungodly deeds.

All these things—or their absence—do not make for the picture of a baby-proof home.

The castle has grown accustomed to being cold and dark, and listening to one master alone. It’s not a quaint place lovers look on and think we’ll raise our kids here someday.

Its master isn’t the ideal father either—after all, the castle only reflected its king. Its master knows only of blood and nails, fangs and wails, words too big for a child’s mouth, and worlds too dark for a child’s heart.

Can he be soft? Can he be gentle? Can he keep those claws, which have ripped out better men’s hearts, from piercing a child’s—his child’s…how could one who killed so many have a child?—skin? He knows many spells, but is there one that can turn those screams into laughter?

He has been soft before. Once. And that is with this woman.

Many women have walked the castle’s halls: shivering, shrieking damsels at his feet; cold and calculating queens; fragile bodies on the floor, that he broke with the same regard a child does a vase that matters to someone else.

Those ordinary people who do come often have pitchforks in their mouths, and fiery words in their closed fists. Curses stacked on the end of stakes, banging like the castle is the church bell signifying their own funerals.

It is for this reason that the castle does not like outsiders, does not open its doors easily. But it cannot deny anyone entry. Unlike the humans’ doors, which find his master guilty until proven innocent.

They always came at night. At night, when the loudest sound is your own breathing. At night, when their fires echoed loudest, and their shouts burned brightest.

They came when the flowers were closed, when only the most eerie and vicious of animals played with the skins of their prey, and the moon waxed the world in cold, drunk shine. The sun could not watch them, could not show their blood-struck hands in their full glory.

She came at sunset. When the sun still glazed her deeds in sanguine auburn, but was just deciding to turn its gaze and let the kids have their fun. Not quite day, when the sun would kill things like Dracula, but not quite night, when the hours are named after witches, and lust is strongest—be it for the body, or the blood within it. Somewhere in between death and life, violence and peace.

This woman came with a knife in her hand, yes. But a knife, at least, was not a sword. It was not a pitchfork, a spear, a whip, or a stake; all weapons that signify, if the fight wasn’t there, you were bringing it with you. Not a war-starved weapon, pointing with mal-in—and -con—tent towards the castle doors and all the things inside it. Not a thirsty thing. Something that by default faced the other direction. Something that can start a fight if it wants to, but doesn’t crave it.

The golden woman came at sunset, with a knife in her hand, and looked upon this thing, this castle that others called ‘ugly’, and ‘monstrous,’ and ‘grotesque,’ looked upon it with awe, and gasped in wonder.

She knocked. She didn’t bang her fists upon the stone, didn’t ram pitchforks and assorted insults against the innocent doors, like how-dare-they protect their master.

She knocked, and the doors opened before she could raise her fist a second time. Maybe, just this once, not because they didn’t have any other choice.

The doors—foreboding, menacing, and all the other spooky -ings one can think of—opened to a world strewn in light; the demon’s castle looked brighter, more beautiful, more alive, than half the churches she’d been to.

Her footsteps were gentle against the castle’s floors. Not a slow, forced gentleness, but also not a piercing, purposeful march. There was no apprehension to her footsteps; her feet carried her as if anxious to take her to as many rooms as they could.

At first her steps were the only sound, enough to fool some into thinking they’re alone.

And it became clear both that she was not alone, and not a fool.

But when she saw the demon, she put the knife away, and used her words.

She used her words to repeat those she herself had heard: stories. But not the kind that make monstrous men run at the doors with naughts and crosses, the kind pious people buried along with all evidence that the world wasn’t made of black and white.

Not all the stories told that this place was cold and dark and full of death.

Amongst all the stories about death, there were others that said Vlad Tepes brought this castle to life with science, forbidden knowledge, and a little bit of lightning. Stories that say there is life here.

And, in exchange for proof that these life-stories true, Dracula asked for a trade, a trade that would prove the other stories true too. He gave up the killing a while ago—(the castle has been in one place a very long time)—but he was still not used to giving for free, and definitely not used to getting for free. Vampires trade in blood and names, not diamonds and declarations. Vampires trade in things they can swallow. This castle, too, had been a gaping hole set to swallow the world and everything that entered. Never once had it given.

And she dared to say, that this place, its master, should learn to give, when the humans have done nothing but take from them—or try their best to. He ought to be the one to invite her in, to ask what she would like, to dispense pleasant words and kind actions, when the humans forgot they invented hospitality, and showed no invitation for him to even enter their homes.

But she didn’t come with a mouth full of garlic, and hands full of superstition. Her feet did not drill holes in the floor with their sharp toll, they wandered the scenic route.

She was used to being cheated. Dracula and his castle were too. But that was not why she was there. She was not there for cheap tricks, or death. She wanted something real. A little bit of the life the castle has to offer.

Her defiance wasn’t that of a terrified citizen, or angry queen, either; rather the calm resolve of someone who is asking for something they know in their heart is good, and knows they will get it. The kind of person who believes there is good in everyone, and that this good will ultimately always win, and who won’t leave until they convince this good to show its face.

The castle has watched countless men and women cower at the foot of count Dracula. Some, do have a measure of god-sanctioned defiance; they come with whips and scourges to defeat him. The castle and the king are bound together in their resolve against them.

Except one. Except this woman. One human whom both master and castle found themselves reluctant to deny, cast away, or kill, maybe even…taken with.

She may be human, but she was not like the rest; she did not light the night on fire with her thirst for blood.

So maybe, just maybe, they could let one ray of sunlight slip through the cracks.

She was also not devoid of life, and maybe that was the key.

‘Devoid of life’ was an accurate portrayal of the castle. Bats flying out of blackness is a good description of a cave, and caves don’t usually come with the brochure ‘teeming with life’, or ‘great place to take your kids!’. The castle had a soul-sucking quality to it; those who entered often found themselves leaving less alive than they arrived. It took after its vampire master. Those who didn’t actually lose their lives within its walls, often remarked upon leaving that the flowers bloomed brighter, the birds sang louder, the grass was greener, and that they missed the sunlight.

Sunlight. Such a base thing; vampires don’t need the light or warmth to be happy.

Sunlight. Such a base way to die; wanting to get out of the cold and the dark.

“Is this how the castle felt to you before my mother first arrived at your door?”

Castlevania was alive once. Once Dracula set the pumps, and its heart began to beat. He turned the gears, and its lungs inhaled. He forged the lightning, and it began to think. Once the books, full of unknown knowledge, jumped off the shelves to get the vampire king’s attention. He filled the bottles and beakers, and they bubbled, as if laughing at a joke only they shared.

They were both alive, once.

That waned, with time. The gears got arthritis, the books caught pneumonia, the experiments atrophied. The castle ached before she came.

And Dracula, alone in the halls, picking up books and putting them down again without so much as a polite glance through them, because he read them all before. Dracula looking into fractured mirrors that could take him anywhere, but deciding there wasn’t anywhere he wanted to go. Dracula, looking into old mirrors that don’t reflect him—like there was never anything to reflect, nothing alive here to begin with, and there isn’t a master for this castle after all. Nothing but a grave. Dracula sitting alone in his study, staring into the fire. No one to talk to. No sound but flipping pages and crackling fires—nothing alive. Alive but dead. This castle. Its master. Undead is the proper term.

The other women who came through here reflected the castle, or else the castle took the life out of them the moment they entered. Queens with malice-stained past, and cracked, icy future in their eyes. Just as cold as the walls. Subjects, humans throwing gruesome insults, silky flattery, or fluttering pleas at his feet. Just as empty as the mirrors.

Only one refused the castle’s bite. Only one walked in looking for life, rather than death. Looking for a thing no one thought existed here. Already presumed dead. Put six feet beneath the ground. But maybe it was here all along; maybe the light hid in the castle’s corners while the dark came out to play, and she just had to coax it out of its hiding places. Maybe the bell was ringing all this time, she was the only one who came close enough to hear it; the only one who came to put flowers on the grave.

Maybe when she felt the machinery pumping she knew the rhythm was a heartbeat. Maybe when she heard the gears clanking she knew it was the sound of inhaling and exhaling. Maybe when she saw the lightning, she wondered what it was thinking. Maybe she looked at these books, these instruments, and saw what the vampire king saw once; something alive. They weren’t dead yet—un- or otherwise. Just sick, and in need of proper treatment. She was a doctor after all. Maybe her first subject was the very books she learned from.

Lisa, who looked at this blotch on the sky, with Death in its towers, and darkness splattered on its walls, and thought that’s where I’ll learn to heal people. Lisa, who gaped in amazement at the beast of a building. Lisa, who didn’t shudder upon entering. Lisa, who didn’t scream when its master touched her, but turned to him with calm resolve, and told him she’d teach him to be more human. Lisa, who’s life eclipsed the undeath in this place.

And there was a trade that occurred that day. For Dracula’s immortal knowledge, Lisa would teach him how to live a mortal life. To travel the world as a man, to walks as a man, to eat and drink, laugh and cry, as a man. Immortality for mortality. They gave each other the world, as so many lovers promise to do. Vlad would make her immortal, and Lisa would make him mortal, with no exchange blood.

(Except to create a thing with both their blood running through it.)

So maybe, after all this talk of life, it is fitting that she wants to create life inside this castle.

Fitting, maybe. Fitting for her. But the castle is not mortal yet, and wishes it could protest that it isn’t the right size, refuse to try on the idea.

Dracula is apprehensive as well, for the castle and he are used to each other, they take after each other, because the cold, and the dark, and the death, and the alone does something to you after a while; you start talking to the walls. After the cold queens and quaking colleens leave, or leave their bloodstains the floor. After the beasts and their silver-stained bullets turn back into righteous men in the sun. After he simply outlives everyone else. When all the living things hate, fear, or else betray you, when all the living things can die, and you, who are undead, cannot, it’s the lifeless things that stand firm by your side. When the day ends and the shadows come out to play, when you’re the only one left, in the end you still have the walls. And then…the walls are all you have. And if you talk to them long enough you make a sort of pact, spoken or silent, with those speechless stones: ‘you’re the only one I can trust.’

Dracula speaks to them one day, says he wonders if he can do this, be a father at all, not to mention a good one. The castle cannot reply. But something deep inside the walls wonders if it might be nice to hear Dracula laugh. It might be nice to put on some different clothes. It might be nice for someone new to listen to from time to time. It might be nice to live again.

The castle is concerned. Used to doing things one way, being one way, and only hearing one voice. But that doesn’t mean it is unwilling, that it intends to kill the child.

It never kills anything—Dracula does that. It cannot do anything on its own, and that includes change.

The castle doesn’t like change.

…But that doesn’t mean it won’t.

And if its going to change, its master must change first. They must change together.

Vampires do not have reflections. But Dracula has a castle, and that castle will be damned if it isn’t his mirror.

Reflections are simple to change; put on some makeup, some war paint, a new change of clothes, get a piercing somewhere. Simple, yes, but not easy, to change completely, because that doesn’t mean anything’s changed inside.

The castle did not come equipped for child-rearing; there are no rooms full of toys and cradles and school supplies.

So if this is to be, they must build their son’s world themselves.

Together they set aside a room for the child’s arrival. Just one, single room. And the castle too knows, from the start, this room will be different from all the rest. They will put paintings on the walls, and banners in the halls; things to interest him, to tell him of his parents, at least, even if there are few other relatives to spend Christmas with. The carpets will be darker, instead of the stringent red, and they will make their words smaller, the books easier to understand. The rest of the castle is warm in color, but cool in atmosphere. This room will be cool in color, but warm in atmosphere. The fire will always be set in its place, and they will try their best to make sure the warmth reaches him; if the fire fails, they will knit blankets; if the blankets fail they will make him tea, or warm milk with honey; and when everything else fails they will hold him. If there are tears here, scornful stares will not greet them, instead, kisses and lullabies will be behind door number three. If this room lives, it will be because of something much softer than pounding metal and lighting.

If a child is to live here, they must change that reflection. Everything Dracula’s castle appears to be, this room will be the reverse. Separate. Something… other than the castle.

This room will bottle all the laughter had in this castle. This room will be made of and for living, not the death the rest of the place is steeped in. So much so that this room will not stand for bloodshed.

Lisa brings in supplies from her town; color and cloth, boards and brushes, needle, and thread, and paper; all the things one needs to build a universe.

It is Dracula who takes the paint, who changes the color to something other than the blacks and reds of the rest of the Vampire’s world, cementing on the walls themselves You will not be dark here, my castle. You will be kind to him, Castlevania. The castle doesn’t know its master to work with his hands like a human, but Vlad is not the same within this room either—this room is part of the trade. He doesn’t use magic, or science, as if he is telling himself with every hammer that they are going to change together, the way one does when talking to the mirror.

Lisa sits in a chair and stiches together cloth and fur to make little creatures, toys for the boy to play with. Soft things, not sharp. They are reflections too, littler, simpler ones, of the creatures howling and prowling outside the castle’s walls, or scurrying within them.

But it is the ceiling that is the crowning jewel of the room. Something they paint together—splashing it onto each other’s clothes and noses.

His parents love the stars. They often walk outside the castle walls, fingers knit into each other’s, to gaze at them. They are scholars at soul, and have charted the constellations. They want their child to be able to do the same, to watch the stars, even if he’s not outside. At the end of every day they want him to be sung to sleep by the symphony of the night.

For them, maybe, but to the castle, one of the most interesting things about this room, is the mirror. This is strange, as, while there are other mirrors in this house, they are nothing more than a silver decoration; they have no purpose here, unless they float in shards and possibility. This is an ordinary mirror. It does hold something now, however, and that’s Lisa—only giving more credence to the idea that she is the only living thing in this castle. The castle wonders if they think it will reflect the child, as if they are hoping he will take after his mother and the room.

The mirror, and the windows. In the rest of the castle, the windows are always closed, curtained, or too small to let any real light in. But here they are big, and inviting to all the wiles of the day. Dracula protested—fearing he would burn. Lisa insisted—hoping he would shine.

The mirror, the room, are empty now. The windows closed. The books and charts dormant as the rest. It is not dead, but it’s not alive either. Not even undead. Just a question. An almost.

The room lays on Frankenstein’s table; just one lightning strike—(or one child’s laugh)—away from breathing.

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ickymichi · 3 years

Text

KNOCKOUT!

h. shinsou

warnings: swearing, fighting, vulgar talk, slight toxic behaviour.

things to know: underground fighter au, no quirk au! shinsous kinda ooc ig

word count: 1.5k

note: didn’t know how to end this as per. but was originally gonna be a lyric fic but then i said no. also pls do not be afraid to send on anything about this shinsou cause he’s currently clouding the membrane! reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

underground fighter!shinsou who came home 3 hours after his fight supposedly ended. unfortunately you couldn’t attend this one as you had your own work shift overlapping the fight times. you stayed up until the devils hour waiting for the tall male to trudge through the door, his usual large duffle bag either full of winning money or spare clothes slung over his shoulder.

“where were you?” one the bag hit the floor you spoke first, leaning against the wall while watching him toe off his air force. “what dya’ mean? i was at a match, you know that” he grumbled with a slight roll of his eyes and walked past you to the stuffy kitchen—silently noting another small hole in the wall—. “yeah i know that,” you said with a ‘duh’ tone, “but that ended three hours ago. where have you been in that time.”

shrugging his shoulders he finished off his water and lent on his elbows against the counter. “at the bar with the guys, what? i cant celebrate a win anymore? jesus” you looked at him like he told you he’d just grown an arm and three legs. “so you just didn’t think of inviting me, but every other bitch you kno-” “you were at fuckin’ work, i’m hardly gonna ask when i know the answer.”

again he rolled his eyes to the man above while lifting his hoodie over his frame and into the washing machine leaving him in his white wife beater, finally making his way out to the balcony while pulling a cigarette from the box in his pocket. “you know i finished just after the match was over, you couldn’t of just asked? was it to hard?” hitoshi blew the smoke in your opposite direction and looked towards you. “i cant have one night with my friends without you you attached to my hip all night huh? christ i’ll invite you next time if it annoys you that much woman” “so you think i’m clingy?” you scoffed with your arms crossed over your chest. hitoshi dryly laughed and looked down to the dark streets, people yelling and some coming home from night clubs and bars alike.

“maybe sometimes i think i do (y/n), listen to yourself right now.” your lips fell into a thin line at his comment, making you sigh and push yourself off the railing. “fuck you shinsou” you heard him kiss his teeth and turn to follow you through the narrow halls. “so i’m the bad guy again? all i said was that i didn’t want you hanging off my hip,” hitoshi went to follow you into the bedroom but was met with the door slammed in his face. “(y/n) baby please, c’mon i’m sorry i didn’t mean it in that way okay? just open the door please,” he waited another few seconds before hearing you shuffle then swing the door to show your glossy eyes. “one more chance hitoshi, one more and i swear if you pull shit like this i’m gone”

The bright lights, constant shouting, stuffy crowds and the smell of blood was something you grew accustomed to over the past year and a half. Thankfully, you didn’t have to get lumped into the huge crowd, being shinsous partner you you a seat at the ringside beside his trainers.

Tonight he was up against a rather tough opponent, one who played as dirty as the sport itself. And Hitoshi was feeling the effects of his foul play by the third round. His chest heaving, the hard muscles covered in sweat and a mix between his own and the other guys blood. You could already see that he would have a black eye and bruises along his cheek, aswell as a busted eyebrow.

Even with all his current injuries, it wasn’t like the fighter opposite him wasn’t feeling it either. Anyone could see he was just as tired as Shinsou, a limp in his step showing a particular hit to the stomach had him doubling.

“keep going ‘toshi one more hit and he’s out!” your lilac haired lover perked up slightly at the sound of your encouragement, brining his tape wrapped hands back up from his side, flexing them to feel the hard guard on his knuckles press against his skin. “oh? That your own little supporter?” the tan male taunted at shinsou, making him raise an eyebrow for a split second until he realised what the comment meant.

“yeah? What of it?”

“she looks like she’s taste real nice, bet she does huh? Probably wouldn’t put up much of a fight if I tried to get a taste myself” Hitoshi felt his blood boil at his words. “fuck off and just focus on what’s infront of you jackass” he chuckled darkly at Shinsou’s words and let a lopsided grin take over his beat up face. “ah c’mon sh must be sweet as if your gettin’ all tough. c’mon just once taste of that little kitty ca-”

Shinsou didn’t let him finish his vulgur sentence before he brought his leg up aiming his shin to kick into his unprotected rib cage. The minute his opponent hit the floor Hitoshi was on top him landing punch after punch to his face. “He’s out Shinsou! He’s out!” both his trainers lept up into the ring to pull him off the man who was now out cold. As they held him back Shinsou spat down onto the other fighter before raising a fist in the air.

—

“you did so good out there ‘toshi. ‘m really proud” you leant more into his side seaking the warmth you needed as you walked through the dark city streets. Hitoshi winced slightly as you pressed against a growing bruise, but of course he wasn’t going to tell you to get off him so he kept quiet. “thanks babe. did it all for you of course” he said the end of his sentence in a playful tone while pressing a kiss to your cheek. Knowing that the both of you find those lovey dovey parts of relationships too funny to take serious.

“how ‘bout we go celebrate in the bar, we can go alone or meet up with the others.” You hummed as an indication that you were thinking of an answer to five before letting a teasing grin grace your features. “we can do that, but I kinda wanna take my winnings first.”

He didn’t know exactly what you meant until you were leading him to the darker alley at the side of the path, falling against the cold brick. His eyes trained your face for until you brought your hands to his bruised cheek to pull him down, meeting his split lip halfway.

Hitoshi only pulled away until he felt his lungs beg for air. Once he did he took your smaller face in his large hands, holding you as if you were a fragile piece of fine china. Looking at you as if you were an angel sent from above for his viewing. He felt his chest tighten as you brought your hands to rest over his own, careful of the cuts and bruises along his knuckles.

“fuck, I fucking love you so much baby. Wont let anyone say shit or do anything to you. promise” he whispers as he brought his lips back to your own. Nearly Going against your claims of ‘hating the lovey dovey shit of relationships.”

“You ever think of quitting all this?”

Your voice was just above a whisper. Taking your boyfriend out of a slight trance he was in. “uh yeah sometimes I guess, why?” you shrugged at his question, really because you didn’t want an argument to start up. You know shit would hit the fan if you told him that you hated his job, how you hate that nearly every night you have to clean his beat up face in your cramped bathroom. You know he’d argue that it’s the only way to get money. Your job barely scraping the monthly rent if it wasn’t for his.

“i know what your thinking, and I can’t just quit because you don’t like seeing me with a few cuts and bruises” he laughed slightly at the soft pout now on your lips, letting his hands fall on your hips to rub against the exposed skin. “but sometimes it’s not just cuts and bruises hitoshi. Like 2 weeks you nearly broke two ribs for gods sake.” “yeah, but i didn’t. so I don’t see why your all mad about it. it’s not like I haven’t been taking beatings all my life anyway, what’s some weaklings that are only trying to make quick money.”

You couldn’t really argue with his point, and again, you weren’t going to because you didn’t feel like going to sleep in an empty bed. “isn’t that what your doing?” playfully, he slapped your ass and narrowed his eyes. “hey, i’m not some weakling. You see these guys?” you gave a noise of affirmation as you reached up to feel his bicep. “okay big guy calm it while I kiss your boo boos better.”

#!!.mha works #mha x reader #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou smut #shinsou x reader #Spotify #bakugou x reader #todoroki x reader #dabi x reader #my hero academia x reader

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kopikokun · 4 years

Text

Beach Day Blues༄ l.dh

↳ Out on a day trip to the beach with your boyfriend and his friends, you’re anticipating a fun time filled with sunny memories and sand filled swimsuits. What you’re not expecting is the cold shoulder from your usually happy-go-lucky boyfriend, but you’re going to get to the root of this issue, even if it’ll kill you.

pairing: lee donghyuck x reader ft. yuta, mark & jaehyun

content: fluff, beach day, reverse comfort fic, jealousy fic, very mildly suggestive ending

word count: 2053 words

Request 36: Haechan + “I need a hug.” (42) + “You’re cute when you’re angry.” (47) + “You own my heart.” (59) + Jealousy

← BACK TO NAVI.

— 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝.

Perhaps you’re being delusional. Perhaps you’re just dehydrated or, maybe, you rationalise, the scalding rays of the evening Sun have burned not only your skin but your brain cells too (if there were any to begin with). Maybe all of this is just in your head and you’re overthinking it.

“Hey,” someone hisses, “is it just me or is Donghyuck giving you the cold shoulder?”

At the question, or rather observation, your head swivels an almost sharp 90 degrees to stare Yuta straight in the eyes. “So, it wasn’t just me thinking that!”

Yuta chuckles. “Yeah, he definitely seems off…” He peers at Donghyuck discreetly from beneath his sunglasses before turning back towards you. “Did you guys get into a fight or something?”

“A fight? No way!” You pause, suddenly doubting yourself. “At least, I don’t think so…”

Though you’re confident in your verdict of innocence regarding a fight, Yuta’s question prompts you to briefly run through the events of the day. To preface things, you, your boyfriend, Donghyuck, and a few of your friends—namely, Yuta, Jaehyun and Mark—had decided around half a month ago to clear up one day in advance for a ‘beach day’ this week. The idea had sprung after someone had brought up how nice and sunny the weather had been lately, and everyone just unanimously came to the conclusion that sunny weather equals beach day.

You had begun packing for this trip a few days ahead to the surprise of everyone including yourself, which is a testament to your overwhelming excitement, because you rarely--if ever--pack that early for just a single day trip. But who can blame you? This would be your first official trip with Donghyuck. No, you should rephrase that. This would be your first official trip with Donghyuck as your boyfriend. You’ve been on plenty of trips before when you two were just ‘friends’, but now--and maybe this is the romanticist in you which you’ve successfully kept stored away up until recently speaking--it just feels different. You’re sure someone out there can relate, because you’ve never been one to obsess over something as feeble as a label, yet this trip has had your stomach in knots for ages.

The packing process had gone smoothly--neither you nor Donghyuck had forgotten anything--and so had the car ride over. As far as you can recall, your day at the beach so far has gone without a hitch too. You’d had a little picnic, dipped in the oddly warm sea, played some beach volleyball (badly) and gotten some icecream afterward. No fights, no issues, no nothing.

Maybe, you think, he found out I was involved in that little switch up with the sea water. You don’t entertain the idea for too long though immediately casting it away, because you know Donghyuck would never be the type to get so upset over a prank.

So, why the attitude?

You gaze at Donghyuck’s back, hoping that this mystery might just unravel itself if you stare long enough.

“Huh…” Yuta’s voice tears you from your zealous staring competition with Donghyuck’s shoulders. “Then I wonder what’s up…”

You sigh. You know you should confront him and have a mature conversation about what’s bothering him, but that’s so much easier said than done. Maybe this is God’s way of punishing you for ridiculing all those scenes in cheesy teen flicks where the couple would experience a major fall-out because of poor communication. During said scenes, you’d be pulling your hair out, internally screaming at the couple to just freaking talk already, yet now that you’ve been presented this obstacle for you to overcome yourself, you’re erring on the side of caution.

Come on, you reason, I’ve been friends with Donghyuck for over half-a-decade and we’ve gotten into our fair share of arguments during those five years. What’s so different about now?

Yeah, you’re right. You find yourself agreeing with your own thoughts, physically nodding along like you’re speaking to someone. Yuta raises a concerned eyebrow at you. Nothing’s different compared to then. You’re doing it again. He’s just my boyfriend, and that’s just a label. Stop. Obsessing. Over. Labels.

Admittedly, it’s a bit embarrassing having to psyche yourself up to do this, but that’s not what’s important right now. What’s important is that little pep-talk, no matter how laughable it sounded, has gotten you to stand and saunter to Donghyuck with utmost confidence. In hindsight, you should’ve said something to Yuta beforehand instead of just springing from your seat and marching away. The thought hadn’t crossed your mind though, as it was obviously preoccupied with something arguably much more important than giving him the luxury of context.

You decide not to be too transparent about your feelings at first as you take a seat beside Donghyuck on the sand, leaning your head on his shoulder, hoping that all of this was really just your imagination getting the best of you. You silently plead that he’ll perhaps treat you like he normally would, giving you a little peck on the cheek or at least wrapping his arm around your waist. Unfortunately, your hopes are smothered just as quickly as they arise because Donghyuck doesn’t even bat an eye at you, continuing to chat with Jaehyun and flat-out ignoring your presence. Still optimistic for a reaction, you leave a chaste kiss to his bare shoulder, just to let him know that “Hey, I’m here!”, but to no avail. Infuriatingly, he doesn’t even flinch. All he does is drone on to Jaehyun about something you couldn’t care less about.

You huff. Audibly. A last ditch effort in vying for Donghyuck’s attention. It goes just as well as your previous attempts. You cross your arms, glaring at the side of Donghyuck’s stubborn little head, hoping to bore a deep hole through his brain. Maybe then he’ll finally take notice of you. Sensing the undeniable tensity in the air, Jaehyun clears his throat awkwardly, offering Donghyuck some lame excuse about needing to take a piss, before shuffling away. Well, at least someone knows how to take a hint.

With Jaehyun’s departure, you’re left alone with Donghyuck. Usually, he’d be leaping to drown you in affection the second you two had privacy--or even if you two didn’t, to be frank--but all he does now is fiddle with the strings of his swimming shorts absentmindedly.

“What’s wrong, Hyuck?” you finally ask, desperate to break this frustratingly suffocating silence. “Is something wrong?”

Finally, after what seems like centuries, Donghyuck acknowledges your existence, though the look he gives you is not a pleasant one. In fact, it’s one of agitation. His tongue prods at his inner cheek before he says, tone bitter, “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

Evidently taken aback, you crease your eyebrows at him. “I… Did I do something wrong, babe?”

“Oh, come on,” he scoffs, scornful amusement overtaking his normally amiable features. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know. You can just come out and say it.”

“Say what, Hyuck?”

“How much more you’re into Mark than into me,” Donghyuck says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You can’t help but laugh, simply bewildered as to how on Earth he came to this conclusion. “I’m into who now?”

“Mark,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes, “don’t have to pretend like you’re surprised.”

“I’m not into--” you sigh, a smile of disbelief tugging at your lips. “Okay, tell me why you think I’m into Mark.”

“I don’t think. I know,” Donghyuck argues and you scoff, “but it’s obvious. And I have proof. Take when we were playing volleyball for instance. The whole time, you kept eyeing Mark up and laughing at his jokes. All of them. Even the weird ones that nobody gets.”

You snort. “Baby… I wasn’t ‘eyeing Mark up’, I was watching him just in case he missed the ball. And about the joke thing, to his credit, some of them were actually pretty funny! But, as for the the rest--and don’t tell Mark I said this--I felt kinda bad nobody else laughed at them, so I just laughed along with him. Trust me, I’ve been in his shoes before and it sucks. Not all of us are born as naturally as funny as you, Hyuck.” You’re a little remorseful that you’re essentially dissing Mark, but you’re sure he’d understand. Your relationship’s on the line here.

Donghyuck harrumphs, but you can tell by the slight quirk of his lip that he’s a little tickled by you poking fun at Mark and he’s totally been swayed by your compliment.

“Okay, fine that explains that, but how about when we went swimming just now? Why did you and Mark keep exchanging funny looks?”

“That?” You giggle. “You know how your drink was mysteriously replaced by seawater?”

“Yeah,” he trails off, his suspicion growing by the second.

“Who do you think that was?”

Donghyuck groans. “Wait, that was you? Seriously? That was mean, babe.”

“Aww, I know, Hyuck. I’m sorry,” you coo. Your hand inches its way closer to his as you attempt to intertwine your fingers together.

Donghyuck rejects your endeavour of fondness. “Nu-uh, no way. I’m not done with you yet.”

“Oh my God, Hyuck, there’s more?” you complain, though there’s a tint of amusement in your voice.

“Yes, there’s more, and you won’t be able to worm your way out of this one either,” he says smugly, as if it’d be a good thing if you in fact, couldn’t worm your way out of his next accusation. “How about when we went to get ice cream and you kept sliding up next to him?”

You pout. “I just wanted to try the watermelon popsicle he got.”

Donghyuck blinks at you, his once irritated expression dissolving. He seems dumbfounded as you hold his gaze, your mirthful smile never faltering. He turns away from you. “Oh, well… then whatever. I guess you aren’t into Mark.”

“Hyuck,” you say, hand crawling up his arm, “were you jealous?”

“Well, yeah, obviously,” he deadpans, still refusing to meet your gaze.

You giggle. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

His cold facade is immediately abandoned at your teasing intonation, and just like that, your cheery Hyuck is back. “Baby,” he whines, readjusting himself so he’s facing you head-on, “don’t tease me. I couldn’t help but be jealous, you know?”

“And why is that?”

Donghyuck purses his lips. “Why? What do you mean why?” He gestures up and down, eyes sweeping over you. “Look how pretty you are! What am I supposed to do when you look this good all the time? It’s unfair, really, that you’re this pretty.”

A blistering heat, one that is much hotter than the Sun, gathers in your cheeks. “Oh really now, Hyuck?”

“Yes, really,” he says, genuity seeping into his every word. “Literally, everyday I’m surprised you’re even real.” You grin bashfully and Donghyuck pounds his fist to his chest dramatically like he’s been shot. “See! You’re only smiling and I’m already having heart palpitations at just twenty years old.”

“Okay, okay, Hyuck. You can stop hyping me up now,” you chuckle. You’re beyond glad that your boyfriend has returned to his spirited self, but you know you should address what just happened seriously, just in case. “But hey, I’m sorry that I made you feel that way. Looking back, it definitely could’ve been misinterpreted as flirting and I would never want you to have any reason to feel insecure about our relationship because you own my heart, Hyuck.”

“Aw, babe, you can be really cheesy when you want to be,” says Donghyuck, pinching your cheeks. He plays what you said off casually, but you know that deep down, it resonates with him, and he honestly appreciates your sincerity. “Come here, I need a hug.”

“Right now? There are people around, Hyuck.”

“But you look so good right now. I can’t resist.”

“I don’t know, Hyuck…” You smile demurely.

“Alright, then what about,” Donghyuck reaches to tuck your hair behind your ear, whispering, “we ditch the beach day and go cuddle in the car? My skin’s burning, anyway.”

You grin. “They’re gonna notice that we went missing, you know?”

“So?” Donghyuck challenges, leaning in to place a short but telling kiss on the juncture which connects your ear and your jaw. “Even better. I want them to know.”

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pascalpanic · 3 years

Text

Blood, Sweat, and Tears (Javier Peña x f!Reader)- Chapter Eight

Summary: You wake up somewhere different from where you fell asleep. Once you figure out what happened, someone’s getting their ass kicked. Additionally, Javier wakes up.

W/C: 3.5k (I got carried away)

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, LANGUAGE holy shit language, Steve is a patronizing asshole but he means well

A/N: AAAAA this chapter was really fun to write you guys. I decided this series is going to have 10 chapters and an epilogue. We’re approaching the end and that’s so crazy! Thank you all for sticking around with me!!! I have a new Javier fic series coming soon, titled Caffeine Rush, and I’m SO excited for it! In the meantime, let’s figure out where our dear reader woke up, shall we?

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You frantically look around the room you woke up in, terrified and confused. It’s dark, a sliver of moonlight coming in through the crack in the curtains. The alarm clock on a bedside table next to you reads that it’s 3:38, clearly at night, since it’s so dark. There’s a lamp behind it and you flip it on, uncovering the room to your eyes. It’s still unfamiliar, but you look at the other night stand and things start to shift into place.

On the small table sits a framed photo of two blonde-haired and blue-eyed people, hugging each other: you’re in Steve and Connie’s bedroom, in their bed. You rush out of the bed, flipping on the light. In the mirror, you discover that you’re wearing a large t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Your hair is tied in a colorful scrunchie. You have no recollection of getting in these clothes or getting here, which makes you realize that Steve or Connie must’ve been the one to change you from your bloodstained scrubs and take you here.

Exiting the bedroom, you walk into the apartment itself to find that neither of them are there with you. Javier’s denim jacket and your purse are sitting on the kitchen table. You pull the jacket on, grab your purse, and storm out of the apartment, down the steps and out of the building. You’re on a mission at this point, enraged that they’d remove you from Javier’s side, specifically without your consent. You murmur angrily under your breath as you make your way back to the hospital.

When you arrive, you shove the doors open and make your way up to the proper floor. The other nurses clear from your path as you stalk through the halls.

You find Lorena as you enter the break room, and she looks relieved to see you. “Did you rest alright?” she asks, concerned, and puts her coffee down on the table she’s sitting at.

“Did you let them do this?” you ask her, less enraged as her presence remains calm.

She shakes her head. “They took you before I could do anything about it. Steve brought you out and drove you to their place, then Connie told me about it. I wasn’t exactly happy that they did it but I figured you needed some rest, so it sounded like a good idea.”

“They could’ve fucking told me!”

“You wouldn’t have gone. Come on, we all know that.”

“Doesn’t make it alright.” You turn and leave the room, determined to go check on Javier now.

Outside of Javier’s room, Steve sits in an office chair and reads a book. He hears you approaching and his neutral expression tinges with fear when he sees your face. “Has he woken up yet?” You ask, hands on your waist to prevent yourself from grabbing his shirt and shaking him until his blue eyes burst from their sockets.

“Twice. He was barely conscious for either of them, though,” he admits, not meeting your eyes.

“How dare you, Murphy?” you hiss, stepping closer.

He doesn’t dare to tell you that it isn’t his fault, that Connie was the one who asked him to do it. She changed you into Javier’s spare clothing and tied your hair up, and Steve brought you to the car and into their apartment. It doesn’t matter; Connie doesn’t need your wrath right now. She’s already spent most of the night crying. “You needed it.”

:Yes, I needed rest, but this was not the way to do it. Not without telling me, taking me somewhere without my knowing. Javier needs me, and-”

“Javier is asleep,” Steve says firmly. “He can’t need you when he’s not conscious. Plus, look around. This hospital is full of competent nurses.”

“I know him best of the nurses, Steve. You are not my father, you don’t get to make choices like that for me, like I’m some toddler.”

“You’re acting like one.”

You feel the rage pooling inside you, but it all dissipates as you look up and through the window and find a pair of dark brown eyes looking at you and Steve. “He’s not asleep, turns out,” you grumble and enter the room, smiling softly.

Javier smiles back at you. “Hi.”

“Hey,” you practically whisper and gravitate towards him.

“You looked sexy yelling at Steve like that.”

You genuinely laugh at his words and shakes his head. “I think I’m physically incapable of looking sexy right now.”

“No, really. I like your jacket,” he tells you teasingly with a dazed smile, and you chuckle as you look down at yourself. “And your clothes… are they all mine?”

You look closely at the clothes and realize that they are. “Connie changed my clothes while I was sleeping,” you chuckle. “I wanted to be here when you woke up, but they took me to their apartment to rest.” You sit on the edge of the bed, and he reaches up for your face but you take his hand and hold it in both of yours. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here the last few times you woke up.”

Javier chuckles softly, then winces at the pain it causes. “I can’t even remember them, so that’s okay,” he tells you with a soft smile, his voice gravelly from the sleep.

You bite your lip, your heart breaking at the pain he’s clearly in. You shed his jacket and bend down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” you tell him softly, your thumb stroking the back of his hand.

“I had the best nurse in Colombia to help me,” he tells you and you smile and kiss his knuckles gently.

“How are you feeling?” You ask into his fingers.

“It hurts,” he admits in a small voice, his other hand tracing the incision across his abdomen.

You nod at that, letting his hand rest on the bed, both of yours still clasping it. “At least you’ll have a badass scar,” you tease softly, and he smiles up at you, not bothering to laugh, not wanting the accompanying pain. His pupils are slightly wide; it’s an indication he’s not fully clear of the pain medication’s hold on him. You’re silent for a moment, simply looking at each other and glad the other is there. “What do you remember?” you ask, pushing his hair back from his forehead.

“Not much,” he shrugs. “Murphy and I were on the street to find an informant who told us to meet him there, and then there was a bang and I started to feel how much it hurt.” He gulps and looks down at the incision, though he can’t see it through his hospital gown. “Then I was in the ambulance, and then I saw you.” He smiles and you chuckle, a small smile tugging at your cheeks. “You looked like an angel.”

You bite down on your lip and look down as you remember what else he told you. He’d tell you now, you think, if he remembered it. But he doesn’t.

The door opens and Steve walks in. You squeeze his hand lightly, not wanting to look at the man you just berated so aggressively. “Hey, Javi,” Steve says softly.

“What the fuck did you do to make her so angry?” He asks, sitting up a little and wincing at the pain he feels in his abdomen.

“Javi-”

“No, what the fuck did you do?” he asks, clearly pissed off at him. “Because it was something shitty; no one just snaps like that, especially not her. What was it?” The medications make emotions more volatile, more subject to a quick change, but you didn’t expect this from him.

You bite your lip and shake your head. “It’s okay, Javi,” you tell him and gently press him down until his back meets the hospital bed again. He seems to relax under your touch. You swallow and tell him the story, an abridged version of it at least.

“How dare you, Murphy?” Javier asks, in just the same tone as you did a few minutes earlier, and it makes Steve chuckle a little. He struggles up against your hand, trying to fully sit up “What, you think that’s funny? You fuckin’ c-”

“Javier,” you say sharply and continue to hold him against the bed. “Relax. It’s alright now, it’s all okay.”

The effort sitting up took shows on his face and in the way his body relaxes against the bed. “Okay,” he says warily, still looking at Steve with a little suspicion.

“I’m glad you’re alright, Javier,” Murphy simply says and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

The fact that Javi’s awake and seems to be able to stay awake is calming to you. “I’ve had a long day,” you admit with a chuckle. “I’d really like to go take a shower. I’ll get Connie or Lorena to come sit with you, and then I’ll come back?” You offer to him.

He shakes his head. “Send Steve back in. Go shower, hermosa,” he tells you with a smile.

You nod and start to stand but he clutches your hand. “Before you go…” he sits up a little and presses a kiss to your forehead, then falls back against the pillow. He grunts from the effort it took. “Thank you.”

It warms your heart, makes you melt a little. “Cualquier cosa para ti, Javi,” you tell him gently and kiss his hand before dropping it. “Are you hungry? We can’t really give you solids yet, but I’d get you a Jell-O or something,” you offer.

He shakes his head. “No. Thank you, though.”

You nod with a soft smile and exit the room. The smile falls as you see Steve again. “I’m going to go shower. He wants you,” you tell him. You look down at the cigarette he’s smoking and frown a little. “Whatever you do, don’t let him smoke.” You walk past him and head to the nurses’ bathrooms.

Steve enters a few moments later.

“Cigarette?” Javier asks him.

“You practically got stabbed, Javier. No smoking while you’re in here,” he tells him, but slips him a piece of nicotine gum. Javier chews it and sighs at the release that comes from it. “Why did you want me?” He asks.

Javier looks away, out of the window to the outside world. “Were you with me the whole time?” he asks him.

Steve shakes his head. “No. Connie took over, made sure I wasn’t too fucked up. Got stitches,” he chuckles and points to his forehead. “She didn’t let me get discharged until she was sure every bandaid was in place.”

Javier nods. “Tell me everything that happened,” he asks, still staring away from him. Not wanting to meet his eyes when he makes a request from him.

Steve nods. “Well, let’s see. The bomb went off and a big piece of somethin’ went into your abdomen. Connie said it went between your ribs and it almost hit the liver, but just missed. It hit a big vein or somethin’ like that, I don’t really know, and you lost a lot of blood. Ambulance brought us here. Connie took me as soon as we got to the hospital. You were in surgery for a coupla’ hours. That all happened yesterday, technically. It’s ‘bout 4 A.M. now. You slept a long time, now we’re here.”

Javier nods at the story, chewing his gum and sighing at how nice the mint feels after the terrible feeling in his mouth that follows hours and hours of sleep. “Gotcha. When I was fucked up… did I say anything? To you, to anyone…” he trails off. It’s referring to you.

Steve nods. “Uh, yeah. The girls told me that you said you loved her, quite a few times. Called her your angel, with the whole light above the head thing,” he says and gestures to the top of his head. “Uh… she called in Lorena, and you thought she said Lorraine, so you started panicking.”

Javier’s eyes widen and he finally looks back at Steve. “What did you tell her about Lorraine?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just that she was your ex. Nothing about the whole wedding fiasco.”

Javier sighs at that, reassured. “Thank fucking Christ,” he nods and rubs his face with his hands. “Did anything else happen?”

She told you that she loves you too, Steve thinks, but he realizes he’s not really at liberty to tell him that. “No, that was about it. I brought her to our place and she slept for a little while. She… she cares a lot about you, Javi. She was about to fuckin’ castrate me before she saw you were awake.”

Javier smiles a little at the image, you in his clothes and absolutely roasting Steve. It made him a little proud, he had to admit. “Thank you. For making her rest,” he tells him finally.

Steve nods. “She needed it. She might be pissed about it now but that was the only way she’d rest properly.”

“She’s a stubborn one.”

“Suits you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Murphy.”

“You said it first.”

The two men smile softly at each other. They’re both exhausted; it’s evident in their eyes. “Go home and get some rest. Better yet, tell the bastards at the embassy about this.”

“Oh, they already know, Javi.” Steve chuckles. “The explosion was at 7:30 in the mornin’ yesterday. That’s about a day ago now,” he reminds him. “They say to worry about the injury first and Escobar later.”

“Easy for them to say. They barely even think in the first place, much less about Escobar,” Javier grumbles. “If you go to the apartment, will you bring some of my files?”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “You really think I’m going to say yes to that?”

Javi groans as he readjusts himself, his rear end growing sore. “Worth a shot. Go home, Steve. I’ve got the girls here to take care of me.”

Steve nods a little. “Maybe I will. What else can I bring you from your apartment?” he asks. “I have four things I won’t bring you: cigarettes, booze, files, or condoms,” he teases and counts them off on his fingers. “You two can fuck when you’re all healed.”

Javier rolls his eyes at Steve. “At least some nicotine patches or gum then, if you won’t let me smoke.”

“Hey, her orders, not mine,” Steve says and raises his hands defensively as he stands. “Rest well, kid,” Steve tells him as he leaves the room.

“I’m older than you, you bastard,” Javier calls after him, and he hears Steve chuckle lightly as the door closes.

A bit after Steve leaves Javier’s room, you finish your shower and dry your body with a towel. Lorena keeps a small set of her own shower products in her locker, and gave them to you so you didn’t have to use the shitty, hospital-provided 6-in-1 soap. You feel refreshed as you dress in the only clothes available for you: one of Steve’s hoodies, with some American college’s logo plastered across the front, and Javier’s sweatpants. You tie your hair up with the same scrunchie as before and sigh as you look in the mirror.

Your eyes are bloodshot and deeply sunken from the amount of tears they’ve shed in the past 24 hours. There are dark bags beneath them, puffy and heavy, and they only emphasizing how pronounced the veins in your eyes are. You nearly start crying again from how shitty you look, but hold back. You brush your teeth with a disposable toothbrush, sighing at how good it feels to be clean.

Once you finish, you put the items back in Lorena’s locker and chug a coffee in the break room. You haven’t eaten much today, besides the snacks Steve brought earlier, but the coffee is all you need. It feels good as it warms you from the inside out.

At this point, you’re technically off-shift, and it should be after visiting hours, but none of your coworkers comment on this as you walk to Javier’s room. They simply pat your shoulder or give you some words of reassurance.

You throw away your coffee as you stand outside his room. His eyes are shut, and for a moment you worry that he fell back asleep, but they open when he hears the door. He sees you and smiles softly, reaching out a hand to you. “Mi ángel,” he calls and you smile, sitting on the side of the bed.

“Hi,” you chuckle and trace his face softly. “Would you like it if I washed your face? It’s been a long day. That shower felt nice, and I can’t really get you in there yet, but maybe you’d-”

Javier cuts you off. “I’d like that.”

You nod and go to his room’s little bathroom, filling a basin with warm water and a little soap. You place a towel in it and bring it out, sitting on the side of his bed again.

The towel is soaking, and you lightly wring it out over the bucket before wiping down Javier’s face. His pupils have shrunk to a regular size again; he must be back to a proper consciousness by now. He smiles at the touch and you’re so close you notice his breath is minty. Odd, until you remember- you chuckle softly. “Steve snuck you some Nicorette.”

“You weren’t supposed to find out,” he says, his beautiful eyes looking up at you.

“You’re not the only one trained to be observant, Peña,” you tease softly. “You take down narcos, I psychologically evaluate my patients.” “And what are you finding out about me?” he asks, a hand on each side of your waist.

“That you’re a desperate flirt, even when you’re coming back from the edge of death.”

“Damn, you are good.” You laugh softly as you finish wiping his face, behind his ears, and his neck, placing the towel back in the basin and setting it on the bedside table. You take his face in both your hands and smile down at him, and Javier’s smile widens. “I meant it earlier. You really are my angel. Saved my life,” he mumbles, your faces closer together as he sits up a little.

“I’m no angel,” you shake your head and look down softly, your hands still cupping his face.

“Oh, I know that,” he chuckles gently, just lightly enough that it doesn’t upset his wound. “Mi ángel. Mía.”

“Javi,” you whimper softly and pout, smiling even though your eyes water.

He finally closes the gap between your lips, kissing you softly and chastely. It lasts just a moment, but it’s perfect. He breaks away and whispers your name softly, and you rest your head in the curve of his neck. “I know I was looped up as fuck when I said it,” he tells you, “but I did mean it. I love you.”

You lift your head, the tears now dropping from your eyes. “I love you too, Javi. So much, so so much,” you admit through a watery voice. “Can you- do you think it would hurt you if I hugged you?” you ask, looking down at the area where his incision is.

“Try it. Can’t hurt much worse than it does now.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, and he wraps his around your waist. It doesn’t matter that it does hurt when he presses your chest to his. The pain is nothing when you have your arms around him, when you’re holding him and he’s holding you.

“Here,” he says and scoots over in the bed. There’s space for you, and you lie down next to him in the bed. You drape an arm over his chest, making sure it’s above the deep wound. He wraps an arm around you and pulls you against him, snuggling you into his side. You smile softly, your head resting on his pec. It’s cozy, cuddled up with him. With the man you’ve spent the past day in absolute agony over.

“I love you so much,” you murmur to him, your tears falling onto his hospital gown.

“I love you too, mi ángel,” Javier mumbles into your damp hair, pressing a kiss to your scalp.

It’s calming. You can hear his heart thump in his chest, his lungs inhaling and exhaling in a low and smooth pattern. His chest vibrates as he speaks. It’s perfect. “Will you stay here? Fall asleep with me?” he asks, almost shyly.

“Oh god, yes,” you chuckle a little. “Please.”

“Well, goodnight then,” he murmurs to you and kisses your head once more. “I love you.”

“Goodnight, Javi. I love you too.” Even though you just chugged a coffee, it takes no time at all to fall asleep in Javier’s arms.

Translations:

Cualquier cosa para ti- anything for you

Mía- mine

- Taglist:

@diogodxlot @wonderlandgabby @yooforia @blo0dangel @sara-alonso @dodgerandevans @pedrosmustache @mishasminion360 @fruit-of-my-hoechloins @tanyaherondale @marydjarin @softly-sad @binarydanvvers @obsessivelysearching

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javi peña #javi peña x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #narcos #narcos fanfic #steve murphy #blood sweat and tears #pascalpanic

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havethetimeofyourstyles · 4 years

Text

in which Harry visits for the summer and secrets come out.

hi loves! here is my fic for the Summer Fic Challenge hosted by @helladirections !!

enjoy 7.4k words of fluff, tad bit of angst, and smut of friends to lovers bestfriend!harry

prompts: summer job & summer photoshoot

also feedback is always appreciated! please reblog if you like it! I’d love to know what you think <3

.・。.・゜

Sun.

The heat that hit your face when you exited your vehicle was hot and bright. Slightest bit of sweat had made its appearance through your pores, and the brightest star radiating off your body made you relive the memories of what’s to come. The familiar exhilarating rush through your veins became present as you met with the sun. The sun had reminded you of the comfort and the fun you’ve had when you met with it. The comfort and fun you’ve had, and you’re going to have, with a specific person. Your favorite person.

The favorite memories that you always go back to when you’re sitting in peace, reminiscing on life itself, had always been on the dirt while the sun was hitting your back, and you and your favorite person would talk and laugh. You would throw water at him when he would tease you or make a stupid joke that would sometimes be funny (you wouldn’t admit that to him). Those memories had kept you the safest and you felt the need to always go back to them, so you won’t forget them. Forget him.

It was always a yearly occurrence to have these memories. For the past three years, you’ve had the most fondest memories of him and your adventure together, making your life brighter. Brighter than the sun.

It wasn’t until you met him that your heart started racing and your heart grew bigger. Your heart grew for the past 365 days for the past three years, and would shrink as sadness and bittersweet goodbyes would fill your mind. It was the only time in your life where you actually counted down the days until you saw the sun again. Until your life was brighter again--brighter than the sun.

“Well, well. If it it’s who I think it is,” his bright smile had taken you out of your trance.

If it isn’t the person I’ve been waiting to see for the past year.

Harry. Harry Styles. Harry Edward Styles. Harry ‘Sun’ Styles.

Your heart grew fonder and a smile of your own took place on your face as you watched him fast walk towards you, almost to the point of running. Your smile grew wider and bigger the seconds the distance between you two were nonexistent, and you were finally in his arms. You felt your feet leave the ground while he picked you up to spin you around, tight arms around your waist and tight arms around his neck.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he said into your neck. You felt his breath against your skin, goosebumps present on your arms, despite the hot day.

You don’t reply nor speak because of the bit of fear in you and the overwhelming feeling you have from seeing him again—finally seeing him again. You just kept your head buried in his neck as your arms were tight around him that you’re worried you might be squeezing him too hard, but you got your answer by his arms hugging you just as tight.

He set you down on your two feet, but doesn’t let go of you. The warmth he radiated from his body is enough to keep you happy if you were to travel to the coldest area in the world with him. His body would make the room warmer when he steps into it, even on the hottest day, like today. But it makes you happy, safe, warm, bright. Brighter than the sun.

The two of you eventually let go of each other, and Harry placed his hands on both sides of your face, smiling down at you. You wrapped your hand around his wrist, needing to hold onto him. Your smile matched his, seeming that it’ll never fall.

“What, not gonna say anything?” He teased, a smirk creeping up to his face, but truthfully, he’s missed your voice so much. The smirk could easily hide his blush because of how much he’s missed you. Calls on the phone don’t do your voice justice. The soft and delicate sound is music to his ears, and he’s deprived from hearing it in person.

“I’ve missed you too, Harry.”

Flower.

Oh, how he’s missed you so entirely much that it makes his heart physically hurt. His chest would always sink every time he had to see you leave, but your smile made it easier to come back.

He couldn’t help but just stare at you. Your beauty had caught his eye the first time he laid them on you, and he still thinks you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. And your beauty outside worked well with your heart. The two were a perfect match: a gorgeous person outside and a beautiful soul inside.

It was like you were too good to be true. He couldn’t believe it, really. Harry sometimes had a hard time comprehending that you were real, like he was afraid to touch you because you would vanish like a ghost or his arm would go through your body like a pond. But you were very much alive and real; a few yells of his name that would snap him out of his thoughts definitely proved that you were a real human being.

But everytime he sees you, especially when it’s been a whole year, it feels like the first time he ever laid eyes on you. He was starstruck, to say the least. His memory of your beauty never faded away, but seeing you in the flesh was a whole different feeling. And that was the feeling he would always hold onto.

Flower. His flower. His bright and blooming flower.

“How are you?” You asked shyly, the words coming out softly.

“Hey, it’s just me. No need to get all nervous on me,” he said as he noticed your nervousness.

“You’re right. But how are you anyways?” Your posture was loose and you seemed a tad bit relaxed, which he’s glad for.

“I’m good. Flight was okay, kinda tired, considering I came here straight to the airport.”

“Harry! I thought you were going to your hotel first?” You had known this because of the phone call that took place before his flight. He wanted to hear your voice before not hearing it or communicating with you for practically a whole day, and he knew he would be deprived from it.

“I was, but I kind of...forgot to book a room,” his words came out mumbled.

“What? How did you forget? You were talking about it a week before your flight.”

“Because…I was hoping to stay with you,” Harry said with a hopeful smile. “You know, there,” he pointed to the small house next to the field. You stayed at the little house every summer just so it would save you time from driving back and forth almost everyday.

“You want to stay with me? But why?” You were confused, your brows furrowed. Harry could’ve asked you in the first place if you could stay with him, but you didn’t understand why he said he booked a hotel in the first place.

“Please! It’ll be fun! Just you and me. And I’m only here for a month, so please?” He put on his best pout face, and you looked at him strangely. You knew you were going to say yes, but you always wanted to poke fun at him.

“There’s only one bed,” you tested.

“I’ll take the couch.” In reality, he really hoped you would ask him to sleep next to you sometime in the next few days, but he didn’t want to mention it.

“And the space is pretty small…”

“Small spaces are no problem.”

“The couch is not that comfy…”

“Then I’ll sleep next to you.” When he didn’t want to mention it, he meant it, but it accidentally slipped out of his mouth.

And in your head, you hoped he hadn’t been joking. You really hoped that he was being serious. The thought of waking up next to him every morning sounded like a dream to you. Sun shining through your curtains while your sun was waking up from his slumber. It was a dream you wanted to become reality.

“Okay, you can stay. You know I wasn’t going to say no to you, right?” He placed an arm around your shoulder as he grabbed his bag from the floor, both of you walking towards the house.

“I know. Wanted to see what kind of excuses you were going to make up. Can’t wait for this summer, flower.”

.・。.・゜

The morning was ahead of you as the California sun was once again shining down on them on a hot, summer day.

Yours and Harry’s evening was filled with eating dinner and catching up. Although you two had talked and texted almost everyday, the sound of each other’s voice brought a warm and safe feeling. Hearing each other talk about things you two already know didn’t bother either of you.

You had seen Harry in the flesh, talk about his new hobbies, updates on his new apartment, and school. And you sat there with a smile on your face, immensely happy to have your sun back.

To your disappointment, Harry had slept on the couch like he said, but you held back a frown on your face and respected his decision.

Now, it was Harry’s first full day and was immediately going to be placed to work with no complaints.

It was a summer job that you both had been grateful to have. Your grandmother had started a sunflower field for tourists and locals, and it’s been growing and blooming ever since you were younger. She had proposed the idea of you helping her work when you were sixteen, claiming that she was getting quite old and her back was hurting when she would stay in a crouched position for long periods of time, so you decided to help her from now on.

Harry had stumbled on the field by accident. He was in California for the month one summer, spending it with his friend when he was 19 years old. You had been helping your grandmother for two years already when you met him, and he literally stumbled through the field, falling to the ground and staining his clothes with soil and dirt. You had scolded him, asking if he was drunk and to not get too close to the sunflowers, afraid he might collapse on them and crush the tall flowers. And he left after that.

He came back the next day, apologizing for making such a scene and almost ruining your field, and asked if there was anything he could do to help. He asked with a look of guilt, and so you made him take out weeds, you pulled from the ground, out to the trash. Harry had hung out for a while until he left, but what surprised you was that he came back the day after, and the day after, and the day after. He was at the field almost every single day during his vacation, so you asked if he’d like to work during the summer and he excitedly said yes.

Although planting the sunflower seeds takes place months before you open the field to the public, Harry comes to work a month during the summer to smooth out the dirt after everyone has left and the field closes.

You and Harry have been coworkers and best friends for three years. He was 22 and finished with uni, and has his bachelor’s in sociology, and starting his new job as a social worker when he gets back to the U.K after his summer vacation in California. Harry had always found a way to visit you during the summer, considering it is also his summer job to work alongside you at the fields.

You were proud of him. So proud of your best friend that he really inspires you to do better for yourself, for others, and for him.

It wasn’t an obvious fact that you’ve taken a liking--or loving-- to Harry. How could you not? You two talk everyday and he visits you during the summer. You felt a bit selfish for not going out to England to visit him because you had to take care of your grandmother since no one else is able to, and you didn’t want to leave her alone all by herself. But Harry brushed it off and said it was completely fine, although he misses you.

The not so little crush on Harry had started to develop throughout the years, and you haven’t yet said anything to him, knowing that it’ll break your heart if the feeling weren’t mutual.

But planted seeds and smoothing out the dirt was so much better than not having him at all.

“Hey! Get out of your thoughts will you? I’m practically doing all the work here,” he said, teasing you as he digs a small dent into the dirt and places the seeds in them.

“Oh, sorry. Not like you planted this entire field yourself for the past four months,” you teased back, rolling your eyes as you crouched down and helped him plant.

There was a comfortable silence that fell between you two, planting and sweating as the sun hit your necks. You loved being able to be silent with him. With being miles apart, it was never awkward for you two.

“So, are you dating anyone at the moment?” Harry suddenly asked, breaking the silence. Your heart drops a little and you hold your breath as the question was unexpected. You’ve never really talked about your love life with him because of the fact that you’ve never had one--a serious one, and also the fact that you’ve been in love with your best friend for years. But Harry has talked about two girls to you, and it made your heart sink a little deeper.

“No. No one at the moment,” you replied.

“Anyone that has caught your eye?”

Yeah, you. “Nope,” you said, shaking your head.

“Oh. Okay,” he said as that ends the conversation. His answer had been so weird and confusing that he would’ve usually pressed you on the subject. “How many rows are we doing?”

“Hmm. Probably 4 more?” The four more rows you two had to do was going to take a while considering the field ran out pretty far.

Two weeks were spent planting, watering, and making sure the sunflowers grew perfectly. The field opened that weekend Harry had arrived and you were excited to see people smile at the flowers that grew so proud and tall.

There were a good amount of people everyday visiting the field, and that made you happy: people appreciated beautiful sunflowers that took hours and days to grow. It was like they were appreciating the hard work in a way.

The sky was still slightly light out, turning into a cotton candy dream; and the weather had cooled just a bit. The field closed a bit earlier on weekdays than it did on the weekends. The time spent when the field closes to when it gets dark out, is due to smoothing out the dirt in every row. Making sure there are no footprints or holes people made from walking, so it’ll be smooth and fresh for the next group of people for the next day. You and Harry took turns smoothing it out during the day every hour, and it kept you busy for the most part along with supervising the premises.

“Do you want to do something fun? I’m already done with my half of the field,” Harry asked.

“Sure. I have about two more rows left until I’m done. But what did you have in mind?” You responded as you continue your work.

“Well, I brought my camera, so I was wondering if you wanted to have a little photoshoot? Before the sun goes down?” He asked more softly.

“Yeah, I’m up for it,” you said with a smile. You’ve always let him test shots on you before he went off and took pictures of nature.

It took no more than 20 minutes until you were done, and you washed up and walked out back to the house to change into a much cleaner and nicer clothes before you met Harry back outside.

You were wearing a long white dress that flowed just above your ankles. It wasn’t tight fitting since it’s hot out, and you generally preferred flowy dresses.

Harry was against the tree, looking into the lens as he adjusted the lighting and focus. He hadn’t realized you were in front of him until you physically got in his shot right when he clicked, and you smiled.

“Hi.”

Harry slowly placed the camera down, taking in your presence. He’s seen you in dresses plenty of times and always thought you were gorgeous, but there was something about the way she looked that made his heart flutter a little extra.

“Hi. You look, um, you look… fuck, uh. You look pretty!” His cheeks had slightly reddened from the embarrassment of trying to get his words out. Never in his life had a girl made him speechless, but it was no surprise to him because it was you.

“Thank you.” A blush creeped your cheeks, and you were nervous as well. You didn’t want to look too over the top when he’s only going to take at least five pictures of you, but you wanted to look nice. And that made you feel entirely better.

“Do you want to stand in front of the flowers? I can re-smooth out the dirt when we're done.” You only nodded as you two walked to the field.

Once you stood in front of the sunflowers, you put a hand on your hip and tilted your head to the side slightly, giving him a cute pose as he took a couple of shots, bending slightly to get a good angle.

After a few seconds, he stopped and looked down at the pictures, and you took that as your cue to start walking back to the house.

“Hey, hey. Where are you going?”

“I just thought we were done. I know you want to take some pictures of the field and stuff,” you say shyly. You were never one to be shy around him, but your feelings for him had taken over, making you flustered.

“Oh, I figured I could take some more pictures of you, if you’d like? Didn’t mean I wanted to take pictures of the field when I asked for a photo shoot,” he says with a soft smile.

“Oh…okay.” You walk back to the area you were standing in, making sure that your white dress isn’t touching the dirt.

“Just go for it,” he tells you.

You let loose and started to pose. You gave him various poses, looking into the camera and smiling sweetly or giving him a more serious but natural and sultry look. The wind had started to naturally move your dress, so went with the flow and continued to move so he could get some candid shots of you; playing with your hair, playing with your dress, and looking to the sides. He changed up his angles as well, adjusting to the light so the sun hits your face or going against the sun to give the picture a more dim feeling.

“There you go, flower. Look over your shoulder again,” he instructed you, and you oblige. “Yeah, just like that.” His voice was low and raspy, and you wanted to hear that for the rest of your life.

Harry couldn’t deny the beating of his heart, and how it pounded a little harder every time he clicked to take your photo. You were a natural in front of the camera, and he couldn’t stop clicking. Your beauty was enticing every time you gave him that sweet look.

“So fucking beautiful,” he said softly, but it was loud enough that you heard him. It had taken you a little off guard, smiling at his compliment. It was the soft small, and you weren’t even looking at the camera anymore, but the person behind it. The one who had captured your heart on camera and in his hands. at the camera anymore, but the person behind it. The one who had captured your heart on camera and in his hands. Click.

The next twenty minutes were spent taking pictures. You had run through the field as Harry got shots of your back as your hair flowed. He also got some as you running towards him with a big and playful smile that would be engraved in his head forever.

It was T-minus three days till Harry’s departure, and it was getting harder and harder every time he had to pack up and leave again.

You had told him that he didn’t have to work anymore, but he told you that he didn’t mind and continued working. You were walking back and forth at the ends of the rows, making sure no one was making a fuss or getting hurt, and everyone was relatively respecting the field.

You got to the last row, and what you had seen had made your eyes burn. Your brows furrowed with anger, but your heart hurt with pain. Harry was in the middle of the row, taking pictures of a girl, and you could hear her laughing and practically flirting with him.

A bystander would call it petty, but that was your Harry and jealousy boiled in your blood. He was supposed to be smoothing the dirt, and instead he’s taking pictures of a gorgeous girl that Harry probably found intriguing. As you walked towards them, you saw the rake standing under his arm as her phone was in his hands, snapping away.

The closer you got, you heard Harry’s voice, “Nice.”

“Does it look good when I do this?” The girl had said, and bent one leg up and threw her arm in the air, smiling.

“Sure,” he said. He hadn’t noticed you walk over to them until he felt you yank the rake from his hold and walking passed them, opposite of where you came from, and continued the work he was supposed to do. “Okay, here you go. I took a few,” Harry said startled, giving the girl’s phone back.

“Wait, let’s look at them. I don’t even know if I’ll like them,” you heard her say, and you rolled your eyes, wondering where her groups of friends that she came with went. But continued to rake, going further and further from them so you can’t hear them anymore.

“Uh, sorry. I have to get back to work,” he tried walking away, but she caught him again.

“Oh, wait! I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime?” She asked hopefully.

“Thank you, but I’m not interested. I hope you have a lovely rest of your day,” he said quickly and ran off towards you.

You heard his footsteps pad against the dirt, and you turned around, finding him running towards you. “Leave me alone.”

“Flower, please-” it was already too late as you were handing him the rake and you were already walking away, leaving a defeated Harry.

The next day was awkward and silent. You had given Harry the silent treatment up until closing when you told him that it was time to clean, handing him a rake.

Harry had been so off the entire day, and you barely said any words to him. He hated it. He hated you being angry at him, and he wanted to fix it.

He found you sitting on the picnic table that’s in front of the house. You looked freshly washed up, different clothes and hair damp. You had this look on your face that looked so frustrated, but your eyes looked sad, and it pained him that he was the one who caused this.

“Flower,” he said as he walked up to you. You looked at him but didn't say anything. He stood in front of you as your legs swung off the table. “I’m sorry. Please, forgive me. I know I was supposed to be doing work, but that girl just asked me to take pictures of her. Please, don’t be sad. I hate that I made you feel like this.”

“Harry,” you started, and Harry slightly cringed as you didn’t call him by his nickname. “It’s not your fault. I realized how dumb I looked and I shouldn’t be mad at you. It’s just that when I saw you taking pictures of her, I thought of how when we did our photo shoot and how it meant nothing to you. It’s stupid, but that’s how I felt at the time.”

“No, no,” he walked a little closer, now in between your legs. “Our photo shoot meant everything to me. You were—are so beautiful. And those pictures mean everything to me. I literally couldn’t stop taking pictures of you until you told me to stop because you were tired,” he said softly, and you nodded.

“I’m sorry for acting like this. I had no right to be jealous.”

“It’s okay. And don’t invalidate your feelings, okay? I understand why you felt like that. I would’ve acted worse if I saw you with some guy,” he confessed, and you looked at him. Does he feel the same?

“Okay. Are we good now, sun?” He nodded, and you smiled.

“Do you know why I call you flower?” He suddenly asks.

“It’s because you say I’m pretty.”

Countless number of times, Harry had never failed to remind you just how beautiful you are. It was a boost to your self-esteem, and you really appreciated it. The compliment always made you blush, rose tiny cheeks made its appearance when the words came out of his mouth.

“Well, that is true. But the other reason I call you flower is because you need to be treated properly. Like people can’t go without watering the flower because they’ll be left to wilt, and flowers don’t deserve that. They deserve to be shown off because they’re so beautiful—you deserve that. You deserve to be watered. You deserve to be graced by the sun.”

Your mouth had dropped slightly, finally understanding in depth why he called you that pet name. Once he was done speaking, you felt your body fill with love and want. You felt special—beautiful.

“There’s only a few people who I want to take care of, and one of them is you. I want you to have a beautiful and bright life under the sun.”

You. You’re the sun. You’re my sun. I want to be under you.

Your breath hitches and your anxiety rises. The erratic heartbeat pounding through your chest, enough that it runs through your ears as you start speaking without thought.

“Do you know why I call you sun?”

“No, you’ve actually never told me. Figured it was because I call you flower, and you know, we work on a sunflower field,” he added a chuckle after.

“That is partially true, but it’s because you’re bright. Your smile and personality is bright that you could walk anywhere and just light up the room, the world. You really did make my life less boring, and more exciting and fun. And I know we only see each other a month a year, it’s all the texts and calls that make me excited to get up in the morning,” you said as you stared so deeply in his eyes, telling him every word that you’ve been wanting to tell him aside from the three words that are hanging off your tongue so carelessly.

“You really mean that?” He asked as if he’s looking for some reassurance, but you’re glad to give it to him.

Even if he’s the bright sun in your life, the sun eventually sets, turning the sky into a dark starry night that sometimes feels like he’s down and in a dark place sometimes.

“I mean every word,” you said as you nodded your head. Harry smiled softly, looking down as he tried to hide his blush, but you see so clearly through him. “There’s something that I would like to confess.” Your mouth confessed for itself as there was no thought process in what you were about to say. Harry’s head lifted and his attention is now on yours again, waiting for what he thinks he’s been meaning to have the guts to say for a very long time.

“Okay…” he encouraged you to go on.

“I probably should have told this sooner, but I get so nervous and chicken out everytime I try to. I also didn’t want to lose you as my best friend either because that’ll absolutely crush me because you’re the best thing to ever happen to me, and I cherish our friendship so much and practically kiss the ground you walk on. But I didn’t want you to lose what we have because I’ve known you for so long and didn’t want you to see me differently-”

“Flower! Come out with it already,” he chuckled and you took a deep breath from your rambling.

“Okay, so…”

“So…” he said with a cheeky smile, and for a minute you think that he knows but just wants you to confess it for yourself so he can laugh in your face and tell you that he doesn’t feel the same way.

“I’ve been crushing on you for quite some time.” And with that, your secret was out, and you had this boost of confidence to tell him how you really felt. “Hell, it’s not even a crush. Practically in love with you. I have been for forever. Ever since you came back the next day and helped me out with the field after you almost destroyed it,” you said with a chuckle, trying to cover the sound of your beating heart that you’re sure he could hear.

“You’re serious?” Harry couldn’t believe the words that fell out of your mouth. He was so happy to finally hear the words, and the doubts and thoughts in his head had vanished once you told him you love him.

“As serious as this sunflower field.”

And he knew you were very serious.

Harry leans in towards you, closing the proximity of your faces, but still too far for your lips to touch.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” You asked, hoping you would hear the same thing he did. He chuckles at your impatience.

“I love you too. Ever since I met you. You were the one I fell in love with. Practically stole my heart when you looked at me in the eyes and yelled at me to leave,” he told you softly, being delicate with his words as if he’s handing over his heart and giving you permission to take care of it. And you would, with every bone in your body, you would take care of his precious heart forever.

“Harry…” Your eyes were stinging with tears from how happy you are to hear that he loves you just as much. You placed your forehead against his, wanting to feel his lips against yours.

“My flower. Can I kiss you, please?” He asked as if he read your mind. You nodded, adding a soft ‘please’ at the end, and he captured your lips with his.

The feeling of his molding with yours made your heartbeat a little faster than normal and your head dizzy. You were drowning in his love as your tongues touched and caressed against each other as your arms began tightening around one another, wanting to become close as possible.

“Take me inside, please,” you said as you pulled away from him. He nodded, practically dragging you towards the house you two shared for the past three weeks.

Once you two are inside, Harry wasted no time in meeting his lips with yours. The tug of your hairs to his hair made him moan in your mouth, and you stuck your tongue in his mouth, meeting his own. Harry’s hands roam all over your body, increasing your arousal. You eventually felt his hands on the back of your thighs, urging you to jump so you do; arms around his neck as you pull him closer. He carried you so effortlessly to the bedroom without his lips leaving yours, but instead deepening the kiss.

Harry gently laid you down on the bed, putting his weight on you as your legs don’t unwrap around his waist.

“Can I take this off?” You felt his hands roam against your ass, and you nodded softly before you felt his hands grab the hem of your flowy shorts, pulling them down slowly and revealing your panties. You lift your t-shirt over your head and you lay half naked under him, the sun.

You hadn’t anticipated Harry undressing you, so your choice of panties that day were quite unattractive as they weren’t anything exciting. And you also decided to not wear a bra because of the hot day out, you needed your breasts to breath.

“Sorry. If I had known we’d be doing this, I would’ve worn something sexier,” you shyly said.

“Hey, I don’t care about that. You look absolutely beautiful. Love every single inch of you.” He leaned in to kiss your neck and down to your chest, sucking and nipping at your tits. He kissed your soft stomach leading to the top of your underwear, looking up at you in case you had changed your mind.

You moaned, feeling impatient with how slow he’s going. “Please. Take it off.”

He finally took off your cotton panties, slowly kissing the newly exposed skin as he takes them off. “Fuck, you’re such a sight. So damn beautiful.” You smiled and giggled, feeling warm from his stare and compliments. There was a moment of panic because you had forgotten to shave as little hairs on your pubic bone started growing back, but the look on Harry’s face like he’s about to devour you had washed away the panic because he simply does not care about that.

“Can I taste you? Please?” He asked, his tone coming out needy. You moaned out a ‘yes’ before Harry kneeled on the floor and kissed your inner thighs, close to what you really want your mouth on, but so far away. He sucked lightly on your thighs, leaving love bites on the place for his eyes only.

You bucked your hips a little as he does so, wanting your mouth on him already, and Harry can sense and feel you getting impatient, so he finally licks up a stripe from bottom to top. He sucked your clit as he got to the top before doing it over again. He then started licking your sensitive button relentlessly, making you even wetter than you were before, Harry heard you whine above him, arms spread out, practically a moaning mess on the sheets.

“Fuck, flower taste so good, my flower.” You were ready to cum any second at that point. You grab onto his curly locks, and he groaned against you.

He takes his thumb, swiping and rubbing your clit before sticking his tongue in your pussy, licking up your juices. Your legs spread further apart for him as your head is thrown back into the mattress.

“Oh my…fuck,” you screamed out. You were so close, and wanting to be there already as your hips started to buck, grinding slightly against him as Harry flattened out his tongue for you. “Yes, baby.”

After a few more bucks, Harry held down your thighs in order for you to stop moving as he continued to sucks and lick your clit again. One hand reaches up to your tits, squeezing and holding them as he plays with your nipples, and on the other hand, he takes two fingers and plunges them into you, thrusting them in and out of you.

You were louder than before, practically on the edge of your pleasure. Harry fingered you faster, and you let go. A wave of erotic foreplay hit you and you were at your high. You were on the highest cloud, floating but also coming down.

Harry cleaned you up with his tongue before kissing his way back up to your lips. You let out a string of ‘mmm’s’ from coming down from your high and being out of breath. As Harry kissed you, you reached between you, and fondled his prominent cock.

With the heels of your feet, you managed to push down his boxers, his cock springing up from the release of the restraint. You took a hold of him, pumping your hand and he moans into your mouth.

“Wanna taste you,” you said between kisses.

“Later, baby. Want to be inside you already.”

“But…”

“We have plenty of time for you to suck me off later, but need to feel you right now,” he said and you huffed, but nodded your head.

He got off of you and sat against the headboard, and you crawled to straddle him. After a few reassuring kisses, you grabbed his cock and lined him up to your wet pussy, sinking down on him. Moans and sighs of reliefs escape both of your mouths, finally feeling each other.

The stretch you felt is amazing, nothing you’ve ever felt before. You’ve only had sex about twice in your life, Harry is around the same number, and nothing compares to this. The closeness and connection you both have emotionally is all the much better than meeting some random person and having sex with them. It’s something you both wouldn’t trade for the world.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, flower,” he groaned out, and you started to sway and grind your hips slowly.

“You’re so big. So big, sun. Shit,” you replied back to him as your head is thrown back and you start to ride him a little faster,

His hands find your hips, guiding you and squeezing the flesh in his big hands. Since you’re above him, your chest is face level with his, so he starts to kiss your chest softly, proclaiming and complimenting you on how good you are for him.

“Just like that, baby. Doing so well for me. No one can make me feel as good as you do.” He sucked on the skin beside your breasts.

“No one can. Never gonna feel like this with anyone. Don’t want to feel like this with anyone,” you moaned out from the feeling between your legs and the feeling of his lips on your skin.

Your pace had become faster and rougher, grinding your clit against his pelvic bone, giving you such stimulation along with the feel of Harry’s nails softly dragging against your back. Harry then picked you up slightly, laying you down on your back.

“That’s right. Gonna be mine forever right baby?” He looked up at you with puppy eyes and you looked up at him.

In his words there was a hint of dominance, needing to be rough and possessive, but in his eyes, there was still the need for reassurance and love that only you would provide for him.

You placed your hands on both sides of his face, kissing his lips and continuing to thrust inside of you. “I’m yours. Forever.”

He smiled at that, kissing you again. “I love you.”

Your smile matched his. “I love you. So much.”

You and Harry were both on edge, sure that you two are prolonging your orgasm just so the feeling doesn’t go away. But you realized that you have a lifetime with him to do this again and again and again. And the feeling of you two connected will always be there.

“Harry, let go.”

“You first, baby. You almost there?” You nodded your head, his pelvis hitting your clit, making the stimulation stronger.

“So good, baby. You’re so fucking good,” you screamed out as your second orgasm takes over and you threw your head back.

He continued to move your hips, and he comes right inside of you, groaning out into your shoulder.

Your chests were heaving up and down as hot breath came out of both of your mouths while you two lay on the bed chest to chest. Your head was on his shoulder, kissing his skin lightly as he does the same.

After a few minutes of catching your breath, he lifted his head, smiling at you. He had a dazed smile on his face when your eyes met his, and he kissed your forehead.

“Can’t believe you’re mine now. My fucking best friend. My flower. She’s mine,” he said, couldn’t even believe the events that had just happened.

“I’m yours,” you reassured him.

“And I’m yours as well,” he said back.

He moved off of you and cuddled up to your side. Both of you fully naked with no cover. Just two people in love, enjoying the sight and comfort you both bring to each other. It was a moment like this where you had wished you would get this everyday. With Harry being yours now, you didn’t know where that led you two distance wise.

“Hey, what’s the frown for?” Harry asked, noticing your mood change and your body tensing.

You propped your elbow up and rested on your hand. “What’s gonna happen now?”

“What do you mean, flower?” He tucked in the piece of hair that has flown onto your face.

“You’re leaving in a few days,” you said with a frown. The thought of him leaving again after what had just happened made your heart sink. “And we only see each other a month out of the year, and that’s too long. You’re going to start work soon, so I doubt you’d get any vacation time. And you know I can’t leave.”

“Stop. I think we’ll be okay,” Harry said calmly—too calmly for your liking. He would usually match your energy and mood to understand you or you wouldn’t be alone in how you’re feeling, but he’s not doing it this time, leaving you confused.

“What makes you think that?”

“Because…I was initially supposed to work in the U.K, but the company I applied for is branching out to…here.” Your eyes widened. “So, I asked nicely if there was a possibility that I could be placed to work here, and surprisingly they said yes.”

You sat up completely, but stayed silent, waiting for him to say he’s just joking, but he doesn’t. He just looks at you, also waiting for you to say something back to him. Your brows raised and your head bowed a little, urging him to continue. But there was nothing more to say from him. He had already said it all, and he felt fucking amazing. Harry’s shoulders and body language had visibly relaxed when his second to last secret swirled through the air, mixing with the aroma of your love for one another.

“You’re not joking,” you said. Harry just shook his head with a small smile, wanting to beam at you, but waiting for your smile to break through. “Like, you wouldn’t do that--joke with me about that, right?” You asked, the thought hadn’t processed yet as it was still at the stage of just hearing the words.

“Wouldn’t ever joke about that. I’m serious. I’m moving here, for good,” he leaned towards you, placing his hand on your bare hip, caressing your soft skin.

“Harry…” Tears had formed in your eyes as your mouth and eyes widened.

“Hey, neighbor,” he giggled, and placed his forehead on your collar bones, face in your chest. You hugged his head, pulling at his hair causing him to groan softly and placing kisses to your skin. “I’ve got an apartment in your building.”

“You what?!” You pulled his face back to meet with yours.

“Yeah. Floor 3, apartment number 3F.”

When he said those words, your tears made its way down your face and you let out a soft sob. You were crying with how happy you are. The overwhelming happiness you felt that your sun will always be with you; on the same side of the world, the time zone, and three doors down. Happiness is practically oozing out of you, and your heart feels like it’s going to burst.

It was the moment you’ve been anticipating for years. With a long distance friendship, it was hard enough to deal with having your best friend in a whole different country. But you both made time to talk to one another, even if it was only for a little bit. And after you two had made love, you were worried that you weren’t going to see him again for another year, but the effort and thought that he put you into consideration to move away from his home to be close to you, made you love him even more.

And you knew that things would turn out great.

feedback is appreciate here! <3

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mrs-hilmarson · 4 years

Text

Run To Me (Part 4)

Pairing: Diane Sherman x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

TW: Brief mention of vomiting. I don’t want anyone getting triggered, so I would rather be overly cautious!

A/N: If you would like to be on a tag list for this fic, please add a comment below or shoot me a message! Excited about the next chapter, things are coming. Again thank you for the love. I am having so much fun writing this and it means even more when you have people who enjoy reading it!

Even though it had been four whole days since the accident, you were not feeling better. Diane had said that the day after was supposed to be the worst, but it seemed like you felt weaker each day. Diane was keeping a close eye on you though, making sure you weren't running a fever and that the road rash and cuts weren't getting worse. She said if you got any weaker, she would bring you to the local urgent care to make sure something serious wasn't going on.

Though you weren't feeling well, you enjoyed the days spent with Diane in the quiet little house, just the two of you. You had learned a lot about each other in the past few days, developing a routine with one another that always ended the day with a cup of that nasty ass tea, but deep and sweet conversation.

You hadn't gone into too much detail about your past quite yet, about your mother or father or what it was like in the foster home. You shared mainly surface level things and funny memories that were light hearted. You knew the heavier stuff would be discussed eventually. Although you were choosing to keep the painful memories of your past to yourself for the time being, Diane had opened to you almost immediately.

You found out she didn't have parents either, her mother dying when she was a child and she was married when she was very young, to an abusive husband that left her for another woman only a year and a half into the marriage. Soon after she found out she was pregnant and she decided to not reach out to her ex-husband and to just raise the baby on her own. Unfortunately she developed high blood pressure and delivered the baby too soon, and she died in Diane's arms before she even had time to discuss options. Her name was Chloe and Diane chose to live a quiet life after that. She moved to Washington only a few years ago and put herself into teaching, science, and her garden. She always wanted a child, but she was just never able have one again.

When she told you that, your heart broke for her. Of course she was so willing to take you home with her. She was lonely! She had promised to take care of you, but you knew as soon as you were back on your feet, you were going to try and care for her too. In whatever way she would let you. You weren't Chloe, and you could never be Chloe, but you could love her with all your heart.

It had been another rough day, as you had suddenly developed a bad headache and had felt queasy for most of it. You didn't really eat much of your dinner, pushing it around your plate. You didn't want to tell Diane you had vomited up breakfast. If she knew you were barely keeping things down, she may get worried.

Diane cleared the plates from the table and brought them to the sink. She noticed you didn't eat more than a few bites. She didn't say anything but turned to you and smiled.

"How about you go ahead and sit on the couch? I'll be there in just a minute," she said quietly. Her voice had seemed to grow more gentle towards you each day.

You smiled wearily and went to the living room, lazily sitting down on the couch. It could have only been a few minutes, but you somehow managed to fall asleep. You were constantly tired and wanting to nap. Diane said it was a good sign because it meant your body was trying to heal itself.

You were woken up by the couch dipping under Diane's weight. You opened your eyes and saw her smiling at you, holding a bowl of something brown. It smelled sweet and you looked at her suspiciously.

"What's that? No tea tonight?" you asked, hopeful.

Diane chuckled and pulled out two spoons, sticking it into the bowl.

"No, no tea tonight. I don't want you to get too much of those herbs and vitamins. And this, it's brownie batter. Me and my friends as teenagers would make a bowl of it and eat it as we talked about boys and school and our dreams," she said, picking up a spoon and licking off the chocolate from it.

You couldn't help but smile as you took a spoon and licked at it cautiously. You had never had the stuff and it was intoxicating. You shoved the whole spoon in your mouth, ready to inhale the entire bowl.

Diane laughed and pulled the bowl towards her.

"Alright, alright speedy... don't eat it too fast. You'll get sick."

You forced yourself to go slower, but the moment Diane turned around you would be sure to put as much of it in your mouth that would fit. This was worth getting sick over. Diane stared at you, drinking up the image of you enjoying the treat she had brought.

"You know," Diane hummed, "I always thought I'd do this one day with my daughter. Make it a tradition and she'd tell me her secrets and we would be best friends."

You're heart ached in your chest. You knew she meant Chloe and you knew she would rather her be on the couch than you. Suddenly the batter didn't taste as sweet. You put the spoon into the bowl and left it there. You looked up at Diane and saw she was almost beaming at you though.

"I'm glad I get to do it with you," she said, picking up the spoon with her other hand and letting you eat off it.

You felt really confused, but happy at the same time. You knew you weren't her daughter, but sometimes the way she said things or looked at you, it was like she wanted you to be. As if that's how she saw you. You weren't sure if you saw her as a mother though, you didn't really know what that felt like. It was complex for you.

"So, Y/n, tell me. What did you do with your friends? Did you have any special traditions with the girls?" Diane asked, eating another spoon of the batter, it dripping onto her lips.

It broke you from your anxious thoughts and had you now thinking about your past. It wasn't that much better but at least it would keep you talking.

"Well, I really wasn't in one place long enough to make any traditions with my friends. But me and my foster sister, the one who lives in town, we would go and sneak out of our group home and head to the woods behind it. The woods had fireflies in them and we would go see the 'light shows' and talk about a bunch of different things. What our families could have been like, what we were going to do when we aged out, the issues we had at the home."

You remembered those nights fondly, some of the few good memories you had growing up. You wondered if there were any woods in the area and if they had fireflies. Maybe you could go and see a 'light show' for old times sake. You would ask your sister when you saw her. But you needed to call her first.

"Uh Diane, could I possibly use your phone?"

Diane suddenly stiffened, the spoon thudding back into the batter. Her face seemed to harden just for a moment before quickly returning to the warm look she often gave you. It took her a moment to respond, making the air between you thick for some reason.

"Sure. Are you okay?" she said, her voice sounding concerned.

She seemed like she was worried and you wondered if she thought she had upset you.

"Oh yeah! I'm fine. I just actually wanted to call my sister and let her know I made it here and that I'm safe and see when she wanted to meet up," you said in a confident tone, hoping to ease her mind.

Her face seemed to twitch and she swallowed hard, clearing her throat. She smiled at you though and you just shrugged off her strange reaction. She pointed to the kitchen where the phone hung on the wall. Diane had phones with chords still in her house, which you found charming, but also a little inconvenient that you couldn't step outside.

"You're welcome to call your foster sister," she said, saying the word 'foster' strangely, "I'm going to go upstairs and get ready for bed to give you some privacy."

She smiled at you and brushed your hair behind your ear before getting up and heading to her room. You waited until you could no longer hear her footsteps before leaning over the brownie bowl and quickly stuffing your mouth with as much batter as you could. As soon as you swallowed it all, you realized you may have made a mistake, but you could regret it later.

You walked over to the phone and pressed the buttons to the number you had memorized by heart. You felt nervous suddenly even though nothing had changed and you had just talked to her a week ago. Your heart race increased with each ringer, anxious to hear her voice.

"Hello?" a sleepy voice on the other side of the phone croaked.

"Mandy? Mandy, its Y/n."

There was some rustling on the other side of the line and you were pretty sure you had woken Mandy up, but you knew she wouldn't mind.

"Hey! I was wondering when I would hear from you. I was a little worried. You were supposed to call me like two days ago," she yawned.

"Yeah I'm sorry. I had a little set back. But I'm here in town and I'm staying with a woman I met-"

Mandy cut you off with a very obnoxious "Ooooohhhhhh!"

"Shut up. It's not like that. She's just a really good friend that I was lucky enough to meet. Now before you say anything else stupid, when and where do you want to meet?"

Mandy chuckled on the other end. She knew you hated being picked on and anytime she sensed even the possibility of making you uncomfortable, she had to crack a joke.

"Well, I have class tomorrow, but I am free after lunch. There is a nice little coffee shop book store on Howard. You can meet me there at like 2PM. Does that sound good?"

"Yeah, that's perfect. I can't wait. I've missed you so much Mandy," you said, tears prickling at your eyes.

"I've missed you too lighting bug. So tell me, who is this lady you are-"

Suddenly Mandy's voice cut off. You pulled the phone away from your ear, not even hearing a dial tone. You messed with the phone for a moment before realizing the line was dead.

"Diane?" you called out, sticking your head around the corner.

Diane was right there, breathing heavy as if she had been running. She startled you and you stared at her, mindlessly passing the phone to her.

"Your phone line went dead," you mumbled.

Diane put the phone to her ear and pressed a few buttons before hanging up.

"I'll call the phone company in the morning. Sometimes someone hits a line and the whole thing goes dead. Were you able to call your friend though?" she asked, leaning against the wall.

You noticed she said friend this time, but you brushed it off. She didn't know the bond you and Mandy shared.

"Yes! I did. I'm going to meet her tomorrow for lunch."

Diane didn't hid her discomfort this time.

"Y/n, I don't think that's a good idea. You're still very weak. You didn't even eat dinner. I don't think you should go out by yourself. Maybe I should go with-"

"No. It's okay. I'll be fine for a couple of hours. I won't be running a marathon, just having a coffee with my sister."

You wanted to spend time with Mandy by yourself and while you appreciated the thought of Diane going with you, you were still an adult no matter how young you looked. It didn't help that at the moment the brownie batter was now fighting against you and you were hunched over slightly.

"Well maybe consider letting me drive you to town? I need to run some errands anyway so I can drive you and that way if you feel like you need to lay down or rest I wouldn't be far."

You would need a ride to town, but you just weren't sure.

"Let me sleep on it. I hate to think I would be using you just for a ride. And-" before you could finish, you start having a coughing fit. Coughing was nothing new to you thanks to the asthma, but this wasn't that. This was the batter.

You tried to keep it down, but it was too late. You threw up, all over yourself, all over the floor, and even on Diane's slippers. You expelled everything you had eaten that day and more and it took a moment before you stopped gagging, laying in a ball on the floor.

Suddenly fear over took you as you saw yourself and the floor covered in vomit. You know your mom would be so mad when she saw it and you would get punished. You didn't want to be punished. You began to cry and you scooted away until your body hit the wall.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to," you cried. You forgot where you were and suddenly you were back at home. You didn't like going back.

Diane quickly ran over to you, not phased by the vomit and held you in her arms. You fought her off at first but she shooshed you and smoothed your hair, holding you close to her. She knew a flashback when she saw one. She held you and whispered in your ear. It took a moment but eventually you came back to present day. You still felt sick, you now smelled awful, your head hurt, and you were embarrassed. For the first time since you had met Diane, you felt tears prickle you eyes and instead of hiding them, you let them flow.

You cried in Diane's arms as she rocked you back in forth, and you apologized over and over again. You weren't sure if you were saying sorry because you had thrown up on her or if it was because she lost her daughter or because you were the mess of a person she felt fate brought her. She kissed your head and took your face in her hands. She wiped your tears with the pads of her thumb and looked at you with tears in her eyes too.

"Hey. It's okay. Stop apologizing. You're safe now Y/n."

She pulled you back to her chest again and wrapped her arms around you tight as if she would never let you go.

"I've got you," she whispered, over and over.

"I've got you, and I'm not letting go."

#sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson fic #sarah paulson #diane sherman #diane sherman x reader #run film

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shunsuiken · 3 years

Text

purple night.

pairing. oikawa tooru x fem!reader

genre. different dimension!au + fluff + angst + suggestive themes (nothing too spicy, you guys are just naked but thats it sjsndksjd) there’s swearing too !

wc. 3k

an. basically sunmi’s song, but it has a happy ending . ALSO ??? THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE 1K ??? idk what happened yall <///3 and before i forget !! this is a valentines day themed fic !

it almost felt like a trance. like you were floating on a cloud as festivities surrounded you. there were children holding cotton candies in their tiny hands and there were couples embraced in each other's arms as they strolled through the warmly-lit festival.

you seemed to be searching for a familiar someone, your feet guided you through the game booths and food vendors decorated to fit the theme of the festival. although you couldn’t remember the face of this person, you remembered the melody of his voice clearly.

“y/n-chan, welcome back!”

there he is. you grinned, turning around, making your hairs blow away from your face in a way that made the moment look like it was from a movie. you felt the blood rush through your veins again, lighting your cheeks up in heat.

“tooru!” you both pulled each other in a tight embrace, his arms locked themselves around your figure while a hand rested on the back of your head.

you melted into his form, burying your face into the crook of his neck to inhale the scent of his you missed dearly. you were on your tippy-toes, holding as much as you could of him.

“i thought i wouldn’t see you again.” your bottom lip shook, you were lucky to meet him once more since that didn’t happen often.

“maybe the fates are on our side for tonight.” you felt the vibration of his voice by your temple. you missed this, his touch, his warmth, his voice.

for some reason you always forgot his name once parted from him. but whenever you heard his sweet voice greeting you in that sing-songy tone, his name was brought back to your memory like you never forgot. it was unusual, and left you feeling guilty for not remembering a name you held so close to your heart.

“hope they’re this kind for the rest of the week,” you joked, feeling oikawa’s chin lift from the crown of your head, a chesty fit of laughter escaping his pretty pink lips.

this was a sight you enjoyed. the gleam of happiness that shone all across his facial features, his thick cocoa-coloured hair would follow his movements onto his forehead, just brushing above his brows that rose in amusement.

oikawa always knew you were quite funny. maybe it was a reference to the bitterness you held against the fates or perhaps, you just wanted to hear him laugh.

“so how shall we spend our night, tooru?”

“however you wish.” oikawa’s eyes trailed off somewhere else before meeting yours again. “where would you like to go?”

you wondered, tapping on your chin as you looked around the festival. there was balloon pop, spin the wheel and fishing games. but to be completely honest, as long as oikawa was by your side, you wouldn’t mind playing every single one of those games. even if you knew that the clock was ticking.

it was a loud, annoying little bird that cocked its head forwards whenever a certain period of time passed by.

awakening hour in 1 hour and 27 minutes.

maybe oikawa heard it too, maybe he didn’t—you didn’t want to ask. that would break the atmosphere. so you quickly pulled a smile on your face.

“how about the carousel?” you suggested.

“whatever the angel wishes.” oikawa took your hand, fitting like a glove in his as he led you to the carousel down the yellow-brick pathway.

it was gorgeous, the lightbulbs that flickered across the cresting of the carousel, illuminating a golden shade that resembled a sunset. it contrasted with the cherry red that brought out the amber adorning the poles aligning with the horse hangers.

amongst the other things at the festival, the carousel shone the brightest, acting like the heart of it all.

you and oikawa took a round on the carousel, pulling your legs over the backs of the horses to sit comfortably. once the platform began turning, you couldn’t help but let out a childish giggle. you felt so free and content, especially with the light breeze that whirled through your hairs.

the ride was simple. the horses went up then down, and the platform itself turned in a circle for an amount of rounds that would warp your imagination, slowly coaxing one to loosen their knowledge of time.

the excitement on your face was crystal clear. it was the smile that twitched to your lips, the apple of your cheeks that rose in the process. your eyes sparkled thanks to the lights of the carousel reflecting off of them, and your hands that held a child-like grip on the poles going through the horse hangers.

oikawa hadn’t seen you in a while and he’d been on this carousel countless times but with you it felt like his first. head leaning on the pole, he stared at your side profile—he couldn’t feel more lovesick for you.

he hated it; the rules of the dimension he was strung to were far too harsh. the fates were uncompromising, and left wandering souls like oikawa to roam around in a distant field—the continuous daydream you happened to plunge into during your sleep.

you were aware of this. this dream that felt real was in fact real as it turned out to be. oikawa was a living person as you but stumbled upon deep complications with the fates and alas found himself serving them in the continuous daydream.

information other than that was unknown to you.

which is why the most you knew about oikawa was his name, how he absolutely loved sweet desserts and how he hated anything caffeine-related. literally. his body would recoil itself in disgust from anything of that bitter aftertaste.

the fates were probably cheating because you were sure time was running abnormally quicker than usual. your eyelids grew heavy and your feet felt sore. it was definitely too early for you to leave, you made sure you were still by oikawa’s side by gently rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand. exhaling a breath you don’t remember holding, you’re pleased to know oikawa’s beside you.

“anything the matter, angel?” his voice rang through your ears, and you swore you saw his face blur out as you blinked.

the expression you made wasn’t new to oikawa. your eyes were blown wide open. his palms find their way to your cheek, feeling little warmth as his fingers spread across the expanse of your skin.

awakening hour in 10 minutes.

“angel, can you hear me?” another warning withdrawal. oikawa’s jaw tightened, this was a way of letting visitors know that their hourglasses in the daydream were emptying. he bit in a curse to the fates, it wouldn’t do anything to stop you from having such withdrawals anyway.

his voice was scratched. you barely heard a thing. your knees felt wobbly and there was a cold sweat building up on your spine. a gust of wind rushed by your face ever so slightly. you leaned your head into the familiar touch, soon realising that it belonged to oikawa when your vision returned.

“mm, you’re warm,” you muttered, meeting his fiery eyes with your forlorn ones.

“let’s take a seat, i’ll buy you something warm.” he sat you on a bench nearby, jogging to a beverage stand to return with warm tea.

“here, drink.” he held the cup of tea to your mouth, tilting it just a bit so you could take a refreshing sip to thaw out the chill in your throat.

“thank you,” you mumbled, leaning your head on his shoulder. while you were at it, you locked your arm around his, pulling him closer (as if he wasn’t close enough already).

the echoes of conversations were all you could hear, your toes felt like cold water were dumped right onto them but you didn’t find yourself shivering. instead, you took heed of the arm securely wrapped around your waist, lifting your head to see that oikawa was already watching the slightest change in your expression.

he offered you a smile. “is there something wrong?”

you shook your head, messing up your hair sandwiched between your head and his shoulder. “tonight was enjoyable, thank you for keeping me company.”

“as i shou—oh hey!” you giggled as you nuzzled your face into his neck, lips just pressing onto the coolness of his skin. “now what’s gotten into you?!” a blush spread across his features, reaching the tips of his ears. the paleness of his skin wasn’t helping him either.

“what am i supposed to do if i don’t have a chance of falling into this daydream anymore?” you laughed it off but your voice shook to the thought of it. “i can’t lose you.” your smile faltered quickly, despite your best efforts in keeping the atmosphere light the fear of never seeing oikawa again was swift up your spine.

“you won’t—” oikawa took your hand in his, “—lose me.” his gentle gaze gave you courage to hold onto the loose thread you were dangling from for a bit longer, stars twinkling in your eyes like they always have when you gave him your trust. “i’ll always be here, waiting for your return like i always have.”

“was it lonely?” you played with your fingers, silently regretting what you asked. “i can’t have you waiting for me like this all the time, especially if you’ll spend all that time alone.”

“my friends happened to have similar situations as me,” oikawa chuckled, “we all fell for such wonderful people.” he flicked his index finger under your chin to tease you, easily rendering you mute with a small smile on your face.

awakening hour in 2 minutes.

you both heard the announcement. it was something you both heard separately.

“is there anything you would like to do before it all ends?” his voice was cheeky and you’re damned to realise you’re a fool for thinking you were being subtle about something you really wanted the moment you entered the daydream.

oikawa was a quick learner with social cues; he’d seen you take those bold glances to his lips before looking him in the eye. he was quite taken aback at first but it was natural to desire more since the most you both had done was hold hands. so he knew what you wanted very well but preferred you to say so. after all, you were just so cute when flustered.

“a kiss would be alright,” you mumbled, regretting it immediately when the words left your mouth.

“hm? what was that? a little louder, love.” oikawa cupped his ear, closing his eyes animatedly to hear you repeat your words.

“a k- kiss but you don’t have to—” you hid your face with your hands, so embarrassed that you could toast bread on your cheeks.

oikawa brought your hands apart, shoulders easing at the sight of your shy smile and your eyes that darted their way everywhere but at him. he was incredibly lucky to know you felt the same way he did, he was just much better at keeping his nerves at bay. once your nerves calmed, you were able to look him in the eye again.

“may i?” his voice hushed to a whisper, face inching in closer to yours. his hot breath right over your lips.

you nodded your head but that wasn’t what he wanted. “let me hear you, y/n.” the brushes of his fingers on the back of your hand allowed you to take your time, letting you know that you could back out and he would be okay with any decision you took.

“you may.” and by the time your words reach his ears, he’s already taken your breath away. the flutters in your stomach have erupted into something else that sets off a heat inside you, sending this passionate and fierce emotion through your body. your fingers that are intertwined with his stutter their way up his loose shirt before shakily cupping his cheeks.

mirroring your movements, oikawa’s hands planted themselves on the back of your head, giving you that reassurance and to guide you through the kiss—and he’s excellent at it. you’re not entirely sure how he was able to attain such a skill but whatever he was doing to you was absolutely everything you desired. his touches were ghostly, lingering on your skin that left your goosebumps waiting for his warm return.

you pulled away momentarily, wanting to say something to oikawa before you woke up but what you found instead was the view of what it seemed to be, a bedroom. you were greeted with the light shine of sunrise through the blinds, groaning as you took in your surroundings. a desk with a digital clock sitting on it, a sweater wrapped neatly over the chair and—oh.

you felt the bed dip beside you. head snapping to the side, you blinked when you met eyes with the handsome escort laying next to you. and you weren’t quite sure how to feel. there were tons and tons of questions bombarding your head but overall there was a single wave of relief washing over your body, and you felt the heaviness of your worries fading.

“what a pleasant surprise.” oikawa ran a hand through his bedhead, yawning before propping a hand up to hold his chin with. “you look so familiar.”

“and so do you,” your voice trailed off, still processing through the morning daze you woke up with. it’s kinda cold, you thought.

oikawa hummed, catching your attention again. “although the view may be tempting, you might wanna cover up.” a smug grin appeared on his lips and your face flushed, grabbing a fistful of the blanket to pull up and cover your chest with.

it then occurred to you that you had no recollection of whatever happened the night before. but if one thing was for sure, you were definitely at some amusement park when you met this man next to you, so how did you wound up naked in his bed?

“do you… do you remember anything at all?” oikawa could practically see the large, red question mark floating above your head.

“sorry to disappoint you but i don’t.” you then heard a light laugh coming from him as he rose from the bed, motioning towards, what was, his and your clothes on the floor by his bedroom door. “but i assure you we both must have had a fantastic time.”

you rolled your eyes at his insinuation. “sure, but could you help me get my dress over there?”

“why would i need to? i’m sure i’ve seen all of you already.” he cocked a brow at you, rolling over to cage you under him, lean body pressed over yours.

“oh shut up, we don’t even remember anything!” you chuckled, somehow not even affected by the distance left between his face and yours. “was your dream at an amusement park? or a festival?”

“either one of those, but you’re still quite charming in—” bonk.

“ow?!” oikawa yelped, rubbing on his boo-boo like a child. “you used my pillow against me!”

you sighed, going back under his blanket to keep yourself cozy. “i’m going back to sleep. it’s way too early to be up.”

oikawa huffed, what a feisty woman. but for some reason he couldn’t find the willingness to argue with you. so he let you be while he walked over to the pile of clothes and picked up his boxers from the night before, slipping them on. heading back to the bed, he picked up his phone, the brightness of his screen illuminating over his face.

14th february. the date on his phone had read, he rubbed his chin gently, jogging through his thoughts because maybe this situation he found himself in this morning was all because of this date.

“y/n. that was your name, was it?” oikawa wondered why your name rolled off his tongue so easily and so satisfyingly as well.

“and you’re oikawa.” you said his name as if it were the thousandth time, opening your eyes to see oikawa’s gaze locked onto his phone.

“oikawa tooru, yes.” he clarified, making eye contact with you briefly.

“tooru,” you mumbled, such a familiar name with this foreign emotion attached to it. you couldn’t tell where these remote feelings were coming from, perhaps it was from that strange dream you had?

“y/n, i think i know how we ended up like this.” oikawa ran a hand through his hair, and if he thought that was going to sort out his disastrous hair, then he was wrong because now his chocolate locks were sticking up in every single direction possible.

once you’re caught up with his little theory, you end up staring lasers into the ceiling. “so we’re just two lonely idiots who thought fucking was going to solve all of our love problems?”

“you didn’t need to shove it in my face like that but i do love the frankness.” oikawa joked and you found yourself laughing along with him. truth be told, but you already found this man endearing to be with.

“say, are you free for the rest of the day?” oikawa sat cross-legged on the bed, shirtless and only wearing his boxers. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t completely distracted by his natural charms that radiated off of him.

you hummed, “i am, why?”

“it is valentines day, why don’t i take you out? it seems like we’ve already met before this encounter anyway.” he shrugged, yet half of him silently begged that you would say yes.

“i don’t see why not,” you replied before adding, “you better not take me to some amusement park though.”

oikawa shook his head, a lopsided grin appearing on his lips. “and while i take you someplace better, let’s get to know each other some more, hm?”

“fine by me.” you rose from the bed, still holding the blanket up to your chest. “now, could you bring me my dress please?”

“will you let me put it on for you?” oikawa wiggled his brows teasingly, but what he received was another pillow to the face.

“the dress, tooru!”

#oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru fluff #oikawa fluff #oikawa tooru angst #oikawa tooru #haikyuu x reader

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agustdef · 4 years

Text

Fear of the Future

Pairing: Demon!Jin x Witch!OC

Genre: Angst; Fluff; Supernatural

Word Count: 4.1K

Warning: Mention of violence (Only quick use of the words and no elaboration.) Quick mention of hanging. (Again only the word is said and the moment passes quickly.)

Rating: PG15

Lovely Banner Marker: @vynusx

Beta Reader: @guktro

Author’s Note: This fic was written for the @heartsforbtsnet‘s Hearts for Halloween Collab. The angst prompt “Why do you insist on hurting me so much?” and the fluff prompt “You owe me two years’ worth of cuddles.” were used to craft this story. I was excited to write something else about Jin because writing about Jin makes me happy, despite what my masterlist might say.

The entire time at the party YN felt off. Well, off wasn’t the right word since she could pinpoint what it was that bothered her and it elicited only one emotion.

Fear.

When they’d arrived at the costume party that the coven had convinced her to attend, things were fine for several minutes. YN drank and danced amongst the sweaty bodies, while maintaining a sort of barrier so no one was actually touching her despite the fact that they thought they were. All was good, until she took a moment to step out onto the homeowners back patio for a breath of fresh air.

There were many other’s loitering about, but she stood in an empty spot fanning herself and being thankful that she decided not to straighten her hair and allowed her curls to roam free. She would’ve sweated out her hair and even if she could produce a glamour for others not to see it she would’ve known it happened. And then been saddled with fixing it when she got home, something that sounded horrible in that moment.

It was just as she turned to go back in that the feeling hit. Like a freight train she could feel him nearby, lingering somewhere that was much too close for her liking. She tried to tell herself that it was all in her head, but she knew better than to deny her intuition; doing that got her into difficult situations. So, she stood and waited trying to feel out for where he was, but before she could get a lock on it he disappeared.

That brought relief to her as she didn’t want to think about him. YN wouldn’t even think his name or who he was to her, she refused to do so for her own sanity. Or more like she did it so she could bury feelings for longer than she already had. Either way it helped and so she went back into the party and threw herself into the festivities more than before.

Not long into her attempt at forgetting did the feeling of him return. He was closer that time, but she knew it was far enough that he didn’t know where she was and wasn’t attempting to find her. It was the kind of relief she needed, but when his energy never faded she began to fear for the worst. If he wasn’t looking for her that didn’t mean he wouldn’t stumble upon her, she was at a party with stupid humans and it was Halloween so his power was amplified which meant the thing in place stopping him from finding her wasn’t enough.

And to top it off all her worrying meant that the buzz of the alcohol had all but left her, making the party unbearable. Which added to the reasons she’d rounded up the members and left the party to head to her home. She’d promised alcohol and letting them do whatever dumb thing they wanted without her usual nagging, so they didn’t whine the whole way back. Which was funny seeing as she’d made them take the long way to avoid wherever his energy came from.

Once at her home she left them to rampage her liquor cabinet while she changed out of the Mad Hatter get-up she’d donned for the party. By the time she’d changed, cleaned off her makeup and made it back down they were done with a bottle of whiskey and dancing along to some song that was being played from a phone.

However, YN’s focus went to the spell book sitting upon someone’s lap.

“What are you doing?” YN asked.

Em glanced up from the book and gave the sweetest smile and that’s how YN knew she was up to no good.

“Well, we had to cancel the usual ritual because of the whole energy from the moon being off thing but that doesn’t mean we can’t do something with our magic. Just a small summoning spell and then we banish whatever or whoever we summon. It’ll take ten minutes tops.”

The way she spoke was like a kid trying to get their parents to agree to buy them the thing they wanted or go to that one party with their friends that they swore would have adult supervision. And at some point in YN’s life it would’ve worked, but she’d grown out of that years ago and she also knew Em. There was no such thing as a quick spell and then nothing more.

YN opened her mouth to protest, but then remembered what she’d agreed to and shut her mouth. But that didn’t mean she didn’t look around at the others for some sort of backup. They all smiled at her and looked eager to do it, except for Mo. Poor girl was passed out on the couch and YN didn’t really have it in her to wake her up just to stop them.

Rolling her eyes she left them to their own devices and went to the kitchen to grab a snack and something to eat. She needed something to calm her down some more. The thoughts about him finding her lingered, but since his energy signature vanished miles before they reached her house and she had blockers up she’d calmed considerably.

Plus, with the others surely going to bungle a summoning she had other things to worry about. She was just thankful that they didn’t have enough power to summon him or any other high level being that would overpower them.

When she returned to the living room they’d cleared things out of the way and had placed the needed objects in their circle. They’d even gotten Mo up to help them, forcing her to stand holding their hands in the circle.

YN moved right past them and onto her couch that had been pushed on the far wall. There were a few asks to join, but she ignored them and got comfortable with her snacks. They stared at her for a while as if willing her to change her mind, but when a minute passed of nothing they turned back to their task.

While shoving cheese puffs in her mouth, YN watched as the last candle was lit and they all closed their eyes, chanting the spell they needed. From the way they said the words she could tell they were off to a bad start. They were slurred and jumbled at some points, she was sure it wouldn’t work at all; but then the fire from the candles grew and the air in the room shifted.

However, the moment as they finished casting everything went still and then back to normal. Nothing felt or looked different and no residual magical energy presented itself, it was as if they’d done nothing at all.

“What the fuck? We did it right?” Mal shouted, her brows knitted.

The others released similar sentiments and then dropped hands, moving to step away from the circle. They all turned to YN expectantly and before she could even begin to tell them all the things they did wrong, a voice cleared behind them.

Startled, they all turned to look and it took a second for YN to see behind them, but when she did the bowl of cheese puffs clattered to the floor drawing the attention back to her.

He was there. He was in her house. He was in front of her.

There was a smirk of Seokjin’s face as his eyes met hers, but she saw it falter for a moment before he put on an even more infuriating one that was clearly fake. Or at least clear to her.

“Didn’t you teach them to never break a circle even when their spell fails?” Jin asked.

Despite her clear discomfort the anger flared quickly at that as she moved to stand from the couch, her body moving across the room to the circle. She didn’t say a word, simply reached out for a candle and lit it but before she could get further Jin spoke up again.

“Can’t expel what wasn’t summoned to begin with.”

YN’s head snapped up so fast he heard it crack.

“What do you mean?” she demanded.

Jin sighed and slowly walked further into the room, though he stopped just across the circle from her.

“They casted it wrong. They almost summoned some low-level demon who was up the street, but it broke before she could get here. However, it was long enough to expose the energy for me to lock onto. You should know how vulnerable spells like that make your defenses, YN. And how even without your participation your magic is fused in simply by being near them,” he said.

That caused her anger to rise and she opened her mouth to fly off the handle, to unload on him for entering her home when she’d made herself clear. But then she saw the confusion and the fear that wrecked all of them and she knew that wasn’t wise. They didn’t know Jin like she did, all they saw and felt was a demon that radiated energy like none they’d encountered and who could wipe them out in an instant.

“Leave,” she said when she found her voice.

At that Jin laughed, his head even tilted back as he did so. One would think that it was a real one, but she knew better and when he stopped and righted himself in an instant she was proven correct.

“Oh no, darlin’. You’re right where I want you and we’re going to talk. You owe me that don’t you think?” he asked.

“I owe you nothing,” she hissed.

Despite her words a pang hit her, but she pushed it down and allowed her rage to remain firm. Letting it waver wasn’t something she could afford.

Objections didn’t stop Jin though, he merely stood there and then turned to glance at the coven. They all jumped with the focus on them and scrambled a little, though despite the fear YN swore she saw Em check out Jin for several seconds.

Of course, his stupid handsome face had that effect.

“Calm down, he’s not going to do anything to you. He’s… safe,” YN said in an attempt to calm their nerves.

Naturally, that only caused them to look at her incredulously. Why would anyone believe a demon of his power was safe to be around, especially since the first things he said made it seem like he just swooped into the first witch’s den that he could find.

Frustrated, YN turned and gave him a look, one he returned until she found herself close to snapping.

“Fine,” she said.

That brought a smile to his face immediately and then his arm extended towards her. Without a thought she reached out to grip it, her eyes fluttered closed immediately and after a few words she pulled away. Though the voice in her head wanted her hand to linger on his skin.

There were gasps of shock before her eyes reopened, but she knew what it was for. Giving into his want to talk meant he allowed her to bind his powers. It didn’t render him powerless, but it did weaken him a great deal. And it would only last a few hours, which YN didn’t think was enough for what was going to happen, but it helped them out.

Jin cleared his throat again to draw her attention and she looked to see a small, tense smile play on his lips.

“Please lead the way,” he said as he stepped aside with a flourish of the hand.

YN rolled her eyes at that but walked past him towards the stairs nonetheless. Before she went up she turned to stare at the others.

“Sit here and relax. Everything is fine. Just eat, sleep, entertain yourselves. Everything but running your mouth to someone not here or messing with anymore magic. Got it?” she said.

They all nodded, and after she made sure to glare at each of them she continued up the stairs. She stopped when she reached her room and motioned him in before following after and closing the door. With a flick of her hand the room was soundproof, something necessary since she knew they’d attempt to ease drop.

By the time she’d done that Jin sat on her bed and faced her, eyes flickering here and there on occasion as he took in the room. There was a hum that she knew was meant to be approval of her decorating choices and then silence.

For several minutes they stayed like that too. Both staring and neither speaking a single word to the other. The only change being the tension and anger festering as each second ticked by.

“You sure know how to hide,” Jin said after who knows how long.

YN scoffed. “As if you actually looked.”

That was strike one.

Jin made a sound that sounded like a laugh but was much too humorless to be considered one.

“Going to pretend like you didn’t have Taehyung help hide you darlin’? A tracker demon who’s bound to his word helped you and you want to act as if I had it easy? As if I could force him without him being punished for breaking that? Or worse die for breaking it? And here I thought he was your friend.”

His words felt like a dagger to the heart and that made YN pissed, but she also knew he wasn’t wrong. He could’ve forced Taehyung to tell him and knowing Taehyung he probably wanted to tell him, but it put his life on the line if he did. And even if she had only meant to make a dig at Jin, acting like she hadn’t risked her friend’s life wasn’t okay.

“There were other ways,” she mumbled.

“And you don’t think I exhausted all of those? Tried all I could? You keep acting like you didn’t have demons and witches by your side to ensure I didn’t find you. That I didn’t even stumble upon you by chance. Like I should have at that party you went to, but something blocked me from getting five miles within it until you left. Then I was left knowing you’d been there, but not being able to find you.”

It was YN’s turn to laugh at him and she reveled in how upset it made him.

��Let’s not pretend like you’ve been looking for me all this time, Jin. We both know that you were so preoccupied that you didn’t notice at first. And I know you, you don’t exert that much energy for a lost cause. Why would you when you’d gain no-”

Strike two.

Before she could finish the word Jin was up in her face, pressing her against the door. His eyes flickered and she could tell he struggled to hold himself together, which ended the moment she smirked at him, seemingly unphased by his mood.

“You know damn well that’s not how I operate. You keep trying to use actions from when you first met me as excuses. Habits and traits that dissipated or altered over time. And even things you sure as hell didn’t have problems before. You want to sit here and throw everything back at me as if I was the one who somehow drove you away. As if I didn’t put effort into every waking moment of us. As if I wasn’t fucking invested in you often times more than you were in me. As if I’m the one who left! That was you, YN. Not me. You didn’t give me the chance. You didn’t talk to me. You just fucking distanced yourself and vanished, never once looking back or even lowering the protections to ensure that I could find you. This is on you,” he shouted.

Though there was a clear shift in YN, something close to guilt, it didn’t stop her from boiling over. She felt upset and wronged by his words.

“Me? I’m the one who this is on? You want to fucking pretend that there wasn’t a change in you? That there wasn’t something off? That you weren’t hiding something from me. This isn’t on me Seokjin. I don’t care what grand delusions you created for yourself while I was gone, but surely you’re not so fucking far gone that you don’t remember what happened before hand. How you fucked up and failed to fix it. How I had to hear about your shitty actions and waning attention from accidental eavesdropping and other demons who loved to let me know how useless I was. How I was on my way out. As if I didn’t fucking know that. As if I hadn’t fucking caught you before that.

“You didn’t care, Seokjin. And you cannot and will not stand here and lie to my face because things didn’t go the way you wanted. Because life didn’t go the way you wanted to. Because you didn’t get to live in a world where you got me and anyone fucking else that you wanted.”

By the time she finished her chest rose and fell rapidly. Her heartbeat erratically and her body vibrated from how worked up she’d gotten.

It was strike three.

Jin’s expression fell, his anger still clear but on the back burner. He looked hurt - well distraught was a better word. His shoulders sagged and she watched as his eyes glistened, tears highlighting the pain.

“Why do you insist on hurting me so much?” he said.

The words in argument she’d prepared disappeared and for the first time since she sensed him the anger couldn’t keep everything else at bay. YN’s sadness, guilt, frustration, and longing all came up at once. She didn’t know what to say or do, but Jin wasn’t done.

“You know it’s not true,” a voice break made him pause for a moment before he continued. “You know it. You know that nothing they say is true because they’ve tried many times to play that game. To get inside your head and make you think I’ve done things I haven’t. With them, with people you know, with people you don’t. They’ve tried it all. They’ve even tried to do it to me and we learned how to deal with that. Learned they were a bunch of whiny brats who couldn’t get what they wanted so they would fuck with what we had. And you knew damn well that they would turn to shapeshifting to do it, so don’t try that shit with me, YN.

“You know what else you knew? You knew I wasn’t pulling away because I wanted to. We both did it out of stress and what felt like a lack of time. And when it ended for you, you knew why it was still like that for me. Let’s not pretend I didn’t fucking notice the change in that drawer. The box was nowhere near where I left it. So why don’t you admit the real issue here? Admit that you were fucking scared. That you’re still scared. That you have lived your life not thinking about how long it will be and the idea of me wanting to spend eternity with you, the idea of me proposing makes you think about the long life. Even if it’s for a second it makes you realize the true power you hold. Your fate for the rest of who knows how long. And instead of talking to me about it, someone who was days from proposing to you, you ran. Like you’ve done for who knows how long before I even came onto the scene. Admit how you run at the first sign of something permanent!”

When the tears started YN or Jin didn’t know, but the moment they realized both scrambled to rid their faces of them. Though Jin’s hands stopped a moment after the first wipe to help YN wipe hers, which only made the silent crying turn into a full-on sob.

“I’m sorry,” was all she could utter, so she repeated it several times.

Jin didn’t say anything at all, just took a deep breath and leaned down to press his forehead to her. They stayed like that for a while, silence filling the space. Silence, sadness, and relief.

Several minutes later, YN pulled it together and was able to see and breathe normally. She pushed Jin away a bit, which displeased him but whatever he planned to say died on his lips the moment she began talking.

“You’re right. You know you’re right. I know you’re right. Taehyung sure as fuck knew you were right when I demanded that he make it nearly impossible to track me. The only reason he did it is because he owed me and I finally knew what he could do in return. I knew I shouldn’t have as I asked and after he’d done it, but I was sure that it was the right choice. It was the right choice for a while or at least that’s what I deluded myself into thinking until I could get to a place where I didn’t linger on it too long.”

There was a pause and a deep sigh from her, she wanted to stop talking but she needed to keep going and with a squeeze of her hand from Jin she found it in herself to continue.

“I’ve watched my people be slaughtered for who knows how long. Complacency and permanent things ended in them burned, hung, killed in the most horrible ways or stripped of who they were so another could gain their power. No matter how well things go it’s nearly impossible to shake the idea of that happening. Especially when you run with demons. An extra target is on my back for even having made an acquaintance with one from my own people. Things intensify when you fall in love with one. And that all just came to a head.

“I was tired of everyone trying to do something to tear us apart and I did need a break. I was going to talk to you about it, but then I saw the ring and heard a conversation I shouldn’t and all my fear and anger festered. Well fear fueled anger. It wasn’t hard to latch onto the idea of you failing to remember how I felt about permanent things, even if I really wanted it. And for fuck’s sake I wanted it.”

Her voice broke at the last part and she started to tear up again, but Jin put a stop to that with a quickness.

“No more tears, darlin’. You’re killing me with all the crying. You want me to start crying, because I will make myself ugly if you start that shit again,” he said.

That made her laugh, but it was truly short lived.

“I really am sorry. I regret it. I’ve regretted it the entire time,” she whispered.

Jin cupped her face and tilted her head so she would look up at him. He made sure that he smiled wide and that she could see how genuine and filled with love it was.

“I know. And I regret not seeing the signs. But we can move past it right? Of course, there is more to discuss and bonds to rebuild, but it’s something we can both do with time. Just not right now. Right now, I just want to keep you in my arms.”

YN smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Is that so?”

Jin nodded. “You owe me two years’ worth of cuddles.”

“Don't you mean twenty years of cuddles?”

“Damnit, I was trying to let you off the hook, but you know what, forget it. You’re never leaving your bed.”

Just as YN planned to challenge that there was a timid knock on her door and then some spoke.

“YN is everything okay in there? You’ve been gone for a while. He may be more powerful than me but I will hurt him if need be,” Mo said.

Laughter escaped both of them at that and they collected themselves long enough for YN to lower the soundproof barrier and reassure her. Once she heard her walk away her attention went back to Jin, who still smiled down at her like she was the best thing he’d ever seen.

“How about I reassure and explain things to them and then you lock me away in your tower and ravage me?”

Both of Jin’s hands slid down and squeezed her ass before he let go and stepped away.

“Fine.”

With a slap to his arm YN turned on her heel and exited her room. She wore a smile than any other in the twenty years they’d been apart and it made her so happy. He made her so happy.

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catgrump · 3 years

Note

Could you write "You're being kind of rude" for Kazuichi and Miu? Maybe they have to work on something together? Friendship or romance, anything you want! Ps. I love your work so much 💕

Anon: thank you for the compliment, and thank you for this prompt. This is a Weird Behind the Scenes Theatre AU by Technicality scene that I’ve had in my mind for A LONG TIME and I’m excited to write it!

This is technically my Theatre AU but you don’t have to care about Theatre or my AU to read it!

TW for lewd conversations

🌻🌻🌻

“So yeah like, there’s gotta be a better fucking way to weld right?” Miu lay in her dorm’s bed, holding her phone above her, her other arm sprawled across the pillow her head rested on. She was attempting to brainstorm a way to make welding more efficient

And Kazuichi had a perfect view. Over Facetime, he had a superb framing of her gorgeous face, golden blonde hair, and her superb cleavage that looked like it was about to spill out of her tight, low-cut top

The more Miu hung out with Kazuichi in the scene shop, the more perfect she became.

She’s sexy, loud, lewd, and most importantly, knows how to handle tools. She’s super smart and she understands her craft and she knows it.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Kazuichi replied, having one of his arms mirror her pose, attempting to define his biceps a bit more, “You’re like, a genius, so I’m sure—“

“Damn straight I’m a fucking genius!” She cut him off, laughing, “I’m a complete god damn package; sexy AND smart!”

“You got that right,” Kazuichi uttered, biting his lip

But she wasn’t looking. Dammit.

She rolled over in bed, now on her side, and Kazuichi’s eyes widened seeing the shifting shapes of her chest.

“I’m thinking like,” Miu continued, her elbow on the mattress propping up her head, “either make the fire hotter so it takes less time, or make the tool itself surrounded in eye protective material so you don’t need to set up the creepy operating room curtains.”

“Yeah...” Kazuichi wasn’t really listening

As Miu thinks up stuff, she always looks around the room she’s in, so she couldn’t see where Kazuichi’s eyes were fixated, and how he was licking his lips.

“I think adapting the tool could be a good idea,” she started twirling the ends of her wavy hair in her fingers, “Cuz then you could make welding more fucking accessible.”

“Yeah, more fucking accessible,” Kazuichi sighed, putting emphasis on the wrong part of that sentence

“Alright, dipshit,” she finally brought her focus back to her phone, “you’re just repeating or agreeing with everything I say— which is correct— but are you actually listening to what I’m fucking saying?”

“I hear you loud and clear,” Kazuichi flashed a grin and winked, doing what he could to look enticing

“Dude, get your head out of your ass,” she joked, giggling a bit

“Is there anywhere you’d like my head instead?” His arm left the frame as he suggestively asked that question

“Yeah, fucking listening to me—“ and now Miu sees it. She heard it too. This motherfucker just bit his lip and he definitely made a noise she’d recognize anywhere, “— are you trying to have phone sex with me right now?”

“What would you do if the answer was ‘yes’?”

And she didn’t need to actually say anything to get her feelings across.

She burst into a fit of loud, uncontrollable laughter

“What?? What’s so funny?” Miu had stopped holding the phone in front of her and the front camera was facing the ceiling due to her cackling, so she couldn’t see how red Kazuichi’s face was

She tried to elaborate between catching her breath, “This whole thing is so fucking funny holy shit; my stomach hurts!”

Kazuichi was panicking. Yeah, he’s been rejected before, but never with laughter. His stomach was in knots and his foot was twitching, “I-is that really so funny? I really th-thought—“

“Thought YOU could get with ME? HA!” And her uproarious laughter resumed

“B-but you hooked up with Leon like last week!” Now he was trying to defend himself

“Yeah, and I’d do it again! You’d fuck him, too; don’t lie to me.”

“Wh-what??” Kazuichi has definitely thought about that before but keeps repressing it; how could she possibly know that—

Miu was still laughing, to Kazuichi’s chagrin, “Yeah, there are a couple huge fucking differences between how I got with him and whatever the fuck you were trying to do— still so fucking funny—“

“Y-yeah? Like what?”

“Well for one thing, I approached him—“

“So you wouldn’t have approached me?”

“Probably fucking not! You’re cool and all but you smell like Monster, grease, and internalized homophobia—“

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It doesn’t need to be fucking explained,” she laughed, having brought the phone back to her face and finally seeing how confused and disappointed and worried Kazuichi looked, “Second: you’re fucking shorter than me, and if I’m gonna fuck a man who’s shorter than me, he’s gonna need to let me dominate him, and you DEFINITELY aren’t ready for that—“

“I’d be into that!” Kazuichi sounded much more whiney than he had hoped, but suddenly processed the other thing she said, “Wait, my height actually matters here?”

“I mean yeah, were you fucking listening?”

“You’re being kind of rude—“

“I’M being rude?” Miu couldn’t believe what she was hearing

“Yeah; you aren’t even giving me a chance here—“

“I don’t need to give you a chance! I’m allowed to not want to fuck you for literally any reason and I don’t have to justify any of it! You’re like a kid brother to me, dude; I absolutely do not ever see us ever having sex.”

Kazuichi flipped his phone over to put the screen against the bed so all Miu saw was a black screen. He didn’t want her to see him pouting and upset... feeling like he was about to cry.

“Kazuichi?” She said after a few moments, “We’re friends, right? And friends are honest with each other, right?”

He could’ve hung up. He could’ve ended the call and avoid speaking to her for however long, potentially forever. But he stayed on the line.

He took a deep breath, “Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not mad at me, right?” Miu began, “cuz if you are, that’s kinda fucked up.”

Kazuichi sighed and picked the phone back up, “No, I’m not mad at you.”

Miu looked genuinely relieved as she sat upright, “oh good; I tend to lose friends pretty easily when I turn them down like that—“

“Gee, I wonder why—“ Kazuichi muttered

Miu didn’t seem to hear, “They all go rambling on about FriendZone Bullshit when THEY put ME in the FuckZone!”

“The FuckZone?”

“Yeah! Just because I like sex doesn’t mean I want to have sex with EVERYONE and so many people assume that about me and get mad when I tell them ‘no’; it sucks!”

“Huh,” Kazuichi processed what she just said, “You know... I think I’ve been doing that since I was like 14 or 15.”

“Well now you’re friends with Gorgeous Girl Genius Miu Iruma and she’s going to set you fucking straight, you shit-for-brains!”

She was boisterously laughing again, and Kazuichi was able to chuckle along.

Prompt from This List

If you like my writing, you can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi if you’re able! 💛 Fics will always be free; this is just an additional way to support me

#danganronpa #danganronpa fanfiction #danganronpa fic #super danganronpa 2 #sdr2 #danganronpa fanfic #danganronpa theatre au #drv3 #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa kazuichi #kazuichi soda #sdr2 kazuichi #kazuichi souda #miu iruma #drv3 miu #danganronpa miu

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immortalonus · 3 years

Text

Where You Belong: Chapter One.

So in case you guys were wondering where I vanished off to, the answer is mostly work. This chapter also took way, way more brain power than I really intended, so I didn't really have the energy to post much else.

I could probably edit this more, but I swear if I spend one more hour editing this I will go insane, so here it is, chapter one of my first multi-chapter fic in, *checks calendar,* four years!?

Jeez, time really does fly, doesn't it?

Read on AO3

If I were Where I Would be, Then I Would be Where I Am not. But where I am, There I must be. And where I would be, I cannot.

-American Folk Poem.

________________________________________________________

As soon as Valerie had flown out of sight of Plasmius’ portal, she made a point to dump everything he had given her for the trip.

First, the communication devices. She had no desire to talk to anyone, much less the creepy, lying, traitorous ghost-thing masquerading as Vlad Masters. She gave the DALVco edition headset her best fast ball, taking no small satisfaction in watching it break piece by piece as it clattered against the frames of one floating door after another before finally vanishing into the mists below.

If Plasmius wanted to talk to her, he could crawl out of his portal and find her himself. Which he wasn’t going to do, because he had a cover to maintain. After all, what kind of delicate, elderly gentleman would throw himself into a dimension of rarified death? Not Mister Masters, oh no.

Especially not when he had a willing pawn to do it for him.

The more surreptitious listening devices went next. Fat, disgusting, bloated insects they were, bugs in function as much as form.And they were everywhere.

She found them wedged between her armor joints, the soles of her boots, in the crevices of her guns, and, after putting her systems through an intensive self-diagnostic, her hair.

When had he touched her hair?

She made a point to crush them all. Either plucking off the parasites directly, or, in the case of those lodged beneath her suit, pulling them into her storage unit and spitting them back out again into the open atmosphere where they could be destroyed.

She removed everything else Plasmius had given her immediately after: Several days worth of food, a large pop up tent, a sleeping bag, a map, several spare weapons, a well thumbed biography on Vince Lombardi and more spewed out of her storage units like a sickness, purged in gouts down to the waiting abyss.

Any thing he'd handled, all his supplies, every “present” he'd ever bestowed, she made a point to dump them all.

But God, when had he touched her hair?

Once she was finished, it felt almost like a victory. With no material proof of her obligations, it was easy to imagine she was already free.

She would finish this mission on her own. No outside aid, no puppet-masters, no regrets.

------------------------------------------

/Sorrysorry-soverysorry!/

“Shut up!”Valerie had regrets.

/sorrysorrysorry/

So many regrets.

“I said shut up, you stupid bug!”

She emphasized her point by kicking the target of her ire right in the soft parts of its creepy, eye studded thorax.

This was stupid, she was stupid, but more than anything, she was pissed.

Valerie took a few steps closer to her target, gait slightly uneven for the lack of both her usual boots. While she wasn't going to die anytime soon, as the black leather that fit snug as skin across her body, the true barrier against the toxic atmosphere of the Zone, remained fully intact, it didn't stop her from being mad about it.

The bug, which had finally stopped gibbering in that vile, hissing tongue that had become more and more common the deeper she ventured into the pea-soup hellscape otherwise known as the ghost zone, took the opportunity to cower against the calciferous outgrowth that had halted its pitiful attempt at flight from Valerie's relentless pursuit.

She had hunted ghosts stronger and faster than this every day back in Amity, and could not help the faint sensation of disgust that came over her at the sight of a figure so unexpectedly pathetic. Did she appear so weak that this creature, along with the half a dozen or so of its less successful, but no less kleptomaniacally inclined ilk see fit to prey upon her? Did she seem so low indeed, that even the meanest, most beggarly of the Zone's inhabitants should see her as some object to pilfer and mock?

It was the work of a moment to summon her laser cubes, pulling them from the pocket dimension from which they resided to slide noiselessly over to the insect lying prone before her. With a thought, they flew forward, two each to press down on the thing's chitinous skull, heightening the artificial glow of her suit as she did for that extra sense of intimidation.

It was an ability she'd never had the need for back on earth, only to find herself putting it to use with unhappy frequency not a day after she'd set off on her journey.

Everything in the realm of the dead glowed, and the capacity to put off and manipulate one's own aura was a hallmark of the creatures that 'lived' within it. Those that didn't stood out strangely, casting shadows upon themselves and the world in a way that made them an obvious anomaly in the otherwise antumbral reaches of the Zone.

While Valerie didn't enjoy wasting her resources on glowing like she was her very own spook, she also hated wasting time, which advertising her humanity to every ghost that glanced her way very much did; a lesson that she'd learned after fending off an entire assault squad of ghost police, who had chased her for ages while screaming about her criminal possession of so many 'real world objects' within their territory.

That it also made sure any enemies never anticipated her ability to phase through objects came in handy from time to time as well, such as when a would-be thief, for example, tried to duck into a thicket in an effort to snarl its pursuer.

As expected, the bug shuddered in response to the cold touch of the barrel against its skin, curling into itself as it looked up into the dark panel of her faceplate.

Valerie leaned down, pinning it between herself, her guns, and the stony trunk of what, on this particular island, seemed to serve as some kind of tree.

/Alright, Manbug, one more time./ Her voice crackled and popped through her translators, adding even more intimidation to a tone already modulated down to something lower and crueler than her natural snarl. /Where. Did you. Put. My Stuff. /

The insect whimpered a little harder, oozing something suspiciously close to snot from the hole above its writhing mouthparts. It remained otherwise silent, however, as it shook.

Valerie pulled back her leg and kicked it again.

The imitation flesh buckled beneath her toes, causing the creature to squeal, a nonverbal expression of pain peaking just beyond her range of hearing as it flickered invisible, writhing in a hopeless gambit to escape the weapons still clamped against its head.

Funny how ghosts kept so many features they really shouldn't need anymore. Like joints, for example. Was it a subconscious matter, or some kind of deliberate choice, Just one more means to mock the living, their very forms a cruel parody of everything they once had been?

She silenced the voice which whispered how she should know by now, that it wasn't that easy. There were more important things to focus on.

/P-please./

The bug focused its myriad gaze on the huntress' visor, all six limbs twisted over themselves, wrapped tight over its oozing midsection.

/In error, Milor- Milord. Your place, held, not neutral. Shall honor, please. /

It was leaking from the eyes too, now, viscous fluid pouring from its dozens of eyes, wetting it bodily, puddling down onto the dark purple earth, adding to the halo of scattered goods and tchotchkes that had spilled out from the overstuffed bags that it had clung to for dear life even as they toppled, overbalanced from a too-fast turn, dragging the creature headfirst into ruin.

/Mer- mercy./

This wasn't fair. This miserable thing, begging in the dirt like it hadn't gotten anything more than what it deserved.

Valerie grimaced, rubbing the heel of her palm against her faceplate. Phantom's visage, not long past, looked up to her from the depths of her memory, face just as desperate, just as indisputably, distressingly genuine as when she'd first seen it.

“Valerie, You don't want to do this.”

“Like I have a choice, spook.” She muttered.

She took a deep breath, sucking in the same recycled exhalation she'd been breathing for nearly a week now, and took a moment to actually think her situation through.

She wasn't lost. She had no idea where she was, but she wasn't lost: That would imply a level of helplessness she could not bring herself to admit. What little food and water she had brought with her had been eaten a while back, reducing her to scavenge among the portal droppage scattered through those areas not patrolled by mad policemen, hoping she could find something sufficiently sealed against ectoplasmic encroachment to remain edible.

She reconsidered her captive, still trembling on the ground. A ghost zone native, utterly at her mercy, and, by the looks of things, a serial hoarder of goods.

/You want mercy? Fine. But you do what I say, exactly as I say it, M'kay?/

While the guns pinning its head in place were something of an obstacle, the bug did manage a spasmodic sort of jerking motion, forebody pushed back and forth with desperate, eager haste.

/(Enthusiasm,) (enthusiasm,) assent! Lord, generous, gratitude, respect./

“Good, now-”She held out one hand, palm expectant.

/Give 'em back./

It responded slowly, still slobbering at the maw, all eyes fixed on the huntress as it unwound its uppermost limbs, which reached up towards those tattered bundles still clustered fungiform over its heaving thorax, rifling between twine-like bindings for what seemed an age.

Patience had never been a skill of Valerie's, and she found herself torn between wanting the moment to last forever and wishing go faster instead, tightening her mental grip over her laser cubes, fingering the internal triggers in anticipation of some sudden, traitorous motion on the part of her captive.

Ghosts were deceptive, dangerous creatures, except, of course, when they weren't.

Without any ability to tell the difference, she could do nothing but pace at the bars of her patience, waiting for the moment to act.

Finally, a claw submerged itself into one of the parcels, pulling out one boot, and, just beside it, a single leather fold.

This was it. Valerie snatched the wallet from its pincers. The boot was replaceable, her construct engines could make another now, if she wanted to waste the resources for it, but her wallet-She flipped open the small leather parcel, noted immediately that the contents were not any state remotely akin to how she had left them.

/Milord?/

The bug was still subtly trying to wriggle its way out from under her guns. Her systems noted, then deleted, increased energy expenditure from her laser cubes as they were forced to adjust to its motions.

Useless data. A ghost of so low a caliber could never hope to escape so easily.

Debit card-broken, bent until the plastic whitened from an excess of pressure; Dollar bills balled together and crammed into a single pocket, still damp with a kind of ectoplasm that looked disquietingly similar to the slobber still dripping from the mouthparts of the bug before her; Plastic wrappers, spare coins, a concert flyer for a band she'd always wanted to see.

/Ah, Milord? Pardon, Excuse?/

All of it. This vile, twisted excuse for an insect had messed with all of it. It had played with her most important cards and documents like they were toys, then shoved them back in with utter disregard for any sense of their value once it was done.

/Goods, returned, trust?/

Dread crept into her heart as she reached into the backmost pocket of her billfold, the place where she kept the picture of her.

/more goods? Information? Information on goods? Release, please?/

It was shoved in the very bottom of the wallet, balled into the crease where the two halves of leather were joined into one. She pulled it out, fingers shaking only slightly as they smoothed it back into a more flattened form.

The Red Huntress had no face, and never had Valerie been more grateful for that absence than in that moment, when she beheld the true extent of the damage done to Polaroid before her.

Soft white creases were everywhere, shattering the image into isolated fragments of its former self. It had been torn, too, at the edges, a grip too hard, twisting too far, integrity compromised as a result.

The worst of the damage by far, however, were a series of punctures, scattered at random through the center of the photograph, small to medium perforations forming little absences where there had once been trees and grass, where there had been a woman's face. A hole sat primly above her dark neck, arched back into nothing, a yawning gap where once there had been laughter.

The Huntress turned her blank visage back to her captive, who froze in the act of trying to pry her weapons out of position. Cowardly, but expected. Trusting a ghost was a fools game she had no intent on playing.

/Ah, haha, (nervous) (nervous,) (respect.)/ The target pulled its claws back up against itself, fiddling with the tips as it looked up to her absent regard.

/...Milord?/

The Red Huntress had no face, could betray no emotion, could reveal none of the cold black welter that rushed up through the depths of her breast and pressed against her throat. An impassive machine, possessed of a will stripped free of feeling.

No sliver of her intent showed through, no shudder passed from her shaking fingers to her gauntleted hands, not even the psychic senses of a ghost could hope to detect the lava that boiled up from her guts, pressing against her skin in an sheet of living fire even as the pits of her stomach chilled to ice.

The bug was still looking up at her, eyes all expectant, when she commanded her one of her guns to fire.

A bright streak of energy shot through the top of its head, hard pink flash cutting through a wave of green.

It squealed, jerked all six limbs towards the missing portion of its skull in a hopeless effort to stop the thick chunks of ectoplasm from slopping down the side of its face. Valerie brought her foot down at the same moment, crushing its forelimbs down into the dust. Forelimbs tipped with little claws, just large enough to fit the holes in a certain photograph.

/Why!? Ancients, why, why!?/

Why?

“Why the hell not?” she snarled, “Ain't that how it works here?”

If a different ghost wanted to rob her blind every time she tried to sleep, they could. If Valerie wanted to chase down the one that finally succeeded, she could. There were no laws here, there were no rules, there weren't even morals. There was nothing to stop anyone from doing anything, so why should she be the one to hold herself back?

She lifted her foot off its claws, then swung it once again into its thorax, only just crusted over from where she had kicked it before.

It squealed, just like she imagined another ghost would, red eyes wide and frightened, vampiric teeth shattered against her fist, choking as she wrapped her fingers around his blue, blue, skin.

He deserved this, it deserved this, she was in the right. She had been tricked, mislead, mistaken maybe, but she wasn't wrong, she was in the right.

And if there was some dark curl of satisfaction there, a self righteous flame alighted just where she'd been coldest in that moment of hate, then that was proof, wasn't it? Of just how right she was.

She bent down to her target, which had started drooling all over again, ground speckled green and wet as it heaved against itself. It was disgusting enough that she would have shot it in the mouth instead of the head, but she still needed information, which meant it still needed to talk.

It's upper set of antenna had survived the cranial blast, making for an easy handhold as she yanked its drooping head up to face her once again. At the same time, she sent her guns down to its chest, where its energy levels peaked their highest.

Ghosts, much like the cockroaches they resembled, could survive well enough without a head, but none, not one could ever hope to make it without their precious ghostly core.

“Listen up spook.” She hissed. /Here's how this is gonna work. You lie, I shoot. You run, I shoot. Got it?/Its head twitched up and down, the smallest possible motion of assent.

/Good./

This was what it took, when it came to ghosts. Cooperation proceeded pain, loyalty from the threat of it, and mercy not at all.

/We'll start with the questions./

She allowed her guns to charge power, deadly, scintillating hum filling the air with the sound of her malintent.

/I like what I hear, maybe I let you keep talking./

Author's note: If Sam is more pride than wrath, then Val is more wrath than pride, IMO. I've done my best to write her accordingly

#Fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #Chapter 1 #Where You Belong #Danny Phantom #Valerie Grey

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shera-dnd · 3 years

Text

Love for a Dark Heart

Adding now to the list of things I can’t fucking believe I got paid to write: My FFXIV character falling in love with herself.

Honestly I could have kept writing this for another 5k words more, but I set the rules so I’m gonna stick to them

As usual you can follow this link right here to read it on AO3 if you’d prefer that. If you’d like to have a fic written by me you should feel free to donate to my ko-fi (rules for donations over here) and let’s get going with the fic

You are a rational woman.

You try to deal with the facts and not let emotion rule over your decisions. That doesn’t mean you’re cold hearted or any such thing, but when it comes to wielding aether you really cannot let your emotions get in the way, lest your magic escape your control entirely.

It’s why you joined the Arcanists Guild so long ago, their approach to spell craft was exactly what you needed, and after many long months of training you had even mastered the lost art of summoning. It had been your calculated and well crafted spells that had felled the Primals and even bested Gaius and his Ultima Weapon.

But what did that amount to?

You’ve been betrayed, the Sultana is dead, your friends are lost, and the nations you fought to defend probably have a price on your head by now. All your possessions now fit neatly into the tiny backpack you brought along in your journey to Ishgard, and the only people left to console you are Alphinaud and Tataru, but in all honesty you’re usually the one consoling them now.

But Ishgard still welcomes you and still needs you. House Fortemps has embraced you and the least you can do is fight to protect them as well. Just keep fighting and saving people until everything gets solved, it definitely worked just fine the first time you tried that, so why not try it again?

You don’t want to be bitter, you don’t want to be angry, you genuinely feel sorry whenever you snap at Alphinaud or Haurchefant, you know they’re having a hard time too. Still it is so hard not to just let that frustration fester in your heart.

One day you’re walking the streets of Ishgard, trying to work the anger out of your system, when you hear a man muttering something. It was a story about a man who fought like a beast, who wielded the Darkness like other men would wield a blade. Something about this story sparks your curiosity and next thing you know you’re pressing the man for details.

It seemed your mystery man had died in battle with the holy knights of Ishgard and his corpse had been dumped in the Brume. It was unfortunate, but mayhaps you could still find his corpse, maybe even his soulstone.

You weren’t thinking of wielding the darkness, were you? No, it was simply academic curiosity. You just couldn’t leave such a thing unstudied, right? Of course. Now to make your way to the Brume.

No pulse, no breathing, skin as cold as the snow around you, that man was a corpse. At least he was a corpse with a soulstone, maybe you could study that. You just have to take it and-

A voice calls for you in the dark.

You wake up confused, but still intact. Better yet, the man you thought dead was now alive and well in front of you. His name is Fray and he was a Dark Knight. Apparently so were you now.

Perhaps embracing the dark should have been difficult, it should have been the kind of decision you pondered over and considered all the pros and cons. It wasn’t supposed to be something you did on a whim, but in reality it was the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

You were stronger now. How else could you wield a weapon so massive? How else could those knights strike you with their blades and barely make you flinch? How else could you take all that anger, and frustration that you had repressed for so long, and give it such a beautiful shape as it cut down those hallowed bastards?

It felt good.

It felt too good.

Perhaps the life of a Dark Knight was exactly what you needed.

In the weeks that passed no one questioned why you disappeared every night or where you went. You had gone through a lot, and they just wanted to give you space to heal. Besides, who would question what the Warrior of Light did with her spare time? It almost made you feel bad for what you were doing.

Almost.

It was hard feeling bad now that you have started studying the Darkness. No, studying would imply a lot more research and controlled tests. What you were doing was more like exercising it, working out a muscle you didn’t know you had until now. If that meant killing your fair share of monsters then so be it.

Especially when working that metaphorical muscle also seemed to improve your physical ones. Even your eye sight seemed to have improved somehow. With time your tunic had been replaced by plate armor, your glasses by a full helmet, your book of spells by the biggest sword you could carry.

There were still hiccups when adapting to this new life as a Dark Knight. No matter how many times you attuned yourself to the Darkness you could only ever hear whispers of that voice in the dark that had once called your name. It worried you, and frustrated Fray to no end.

Frustration seemed to be Fray’s default state. Always furious at the people around you who insist on asking you to fix all their problems, ready to throw threats and insults any time someone so much as thought of interrupting you. You try to be nice, you try to de-escalate, to help those people anyway, but you know deep down that you agree with her.

Her? Wasn’t Fray a man?

Doesn’t matter, Fray can use whatever pronouns she wants. You just can’t remember her ever telling you she changed those.

Wait did she just mention fighting Leviathan? Had she been there with you on that ship? Surely you’d remember that.

Why hadn’t she mentioned that before?

Maybe if you still saw the world through your old scholarly lens, maybe if you still distanced yourself, studied the situation, maybe then you would have realized what was happening. You really can’t help but feel a little stupid when the truth finally reveals itself.

When Fray takes off her helmet it is your face that you see, your eyes that stare into yours, your voice that challenges you. She was your Darkness, your repressed rage against those who used you again, and again to suit their needs; your frustrations with this world that would exhaust you to the bone before finding any solution that didn’t involve you, your need for someone to just step up and care for you even once.

If only she hadn’t hurt those people, if only her first answer wasn’t to just draw her sword on those she saw as a threat to you, maybe then you’d let her go.

Your swords clash and ultimately she’s the one to fall. Your Darkness, your heart, your…

...Esteem, lies defeated before you and you don’t know how to feel. She was a monster formed from the deepest abyss, yet when you hear her declare that she will always be there for you, if only you were to call her, you can’t help but feel hope.

It was only after you exposed yourself to just about every guard, and soldier at Dragon Head that you decided that it’s about time you came clean to your friends.

Alphinaud and Haurchefant didn’t understand why you had made the decisions you had, but they couldn’t think of anyone better to wield such a power. Tataru trusted you with her life and just a bit of Darkness wouldn’t get in the way of that. Estinien claimed that he understood, that he too struggled against the evil that granted him his powers. In the end it all felt too easy, too unearned.

Still, there was a nation to save and a war to stop. Your little existential crisis would have to wait. You could almost hear Esteem screaming at you for ever forming that thought.

Soon it wouldn’t be just almost.

Weeks passed as you traversed Dravania, searching for a way to stop this war. For a moment you had hoped that by exposing the lies of Ishgardian nobility you would finally put an end to this, but of course that just led the holy men of Halone to do what they thought was right, which just happened to be capturing and torturing an innocent man.

You went in to try to save a man, to make those self appointed saints pay. You didn’t go there to lose a friend, yet that’s what you did.

You kept your composure long enough to reach your private chambers in the Fortemps manor, but as soon as the door closed behind you, you collapsed. You could have saved him, you could have prevented this, you could have jumped out of the way, or pushed him away, or just done anything.

But you didn’t, and now he paid the price for it.

What a pathetic excuse for a Warrior of Light you are.

“You’re no such thing!” A familiar voice calls. You don’t know when or how you summoned her back, but there she was.

Esteem lifted you from the ground and laid you in your bed. You noticed now that instead of the black armor she had favored in your fight, now she wore one of your old robes and your old glasses. It was almost funny thinking of a being of pure aether deigning to wear glasses for some reason.

With a gentleness you didn’t know either of you had, she caressed and soothed you as she repeated those same words over and over again, “it wasn’t your fault.”

It felt pathetic to only have a shadow of yourself to care for you, but for now it didn’t matter. All you could do in that moment was cling, cling to the kind words and the soft touch of the only person who cared enough to offer, and try as hard as you can to believe in what she’s saying.

“Rest now, you fool,” she asked, her voice just as gentle as before.

“Please stay,” you pleaded, unsure if she would disappear the moment you closed your eyes.

It was a selfish thing to ask, to force her to stay in the material world simply for your own comfort, but Esteem wanted nothing more than for you to be selfish, so there was never any doubt that she would oblige.

The next morning she was still there, asleep somehow, still holding you in her arms. It shamed you to admit that this was the closest you’ve ever been to another person. No one had held you this close, no one had ever let you fall asleep in their arms - or fallen asleep in yours for what that matters - had she been more than just a piece of your own heart, perhaps you would have found reason for embarrassment.

There was certainly some strangeness to it, of course. Waking up in your own arms and seeing your own face in the morning was as surreal an experience as you could imagine right now. Though it did allow you some interesting introspection. You shifted in bed a little, trying to get a good look at your own face, wondering if you had ever looked this peaceful before.

“If you even consider rising from this bed I promise you the Archbishop will be the least of your worries,” she grumbles without even opening her eyes.

“I did not know you could sleep,” you comment.

“Neither did I,” she replies. She pushes herself into a sitting position, having completely given up on the idea of returning to your shared slumber, “if I must be honest, I don’t even know how I was granted physical form once more.”

“Yet your first response to sudden corporealization was not to question it, but to attend to the sobbing mess on the floor,” you are by no means attempting to mock her, it simply sounds odd to you.

“What am I to say?” She jested, “I’m quite fond of that sobbing mess.”

At that you averted your gaze. It felt embarrassing somehow, to have someone declare their fondness so bluntly, even if that someone wasn’t an actual person.

“Have we truly grown so alienated from affection?” She sighs, her voice a mix of worry and disappointment.

You motion to protest, but a knock on the door interrupts you both. With a gesture, she requests you stay in bed while she handles this. That may be the worst idea you have ever heard, but you’re far too tired to protest.

“I’m glad to see you’re awake and well,” Alphinaud greets her cheerfully, “If you’re disposed, I’d like to ask-”

“I’m not,” She interrupts, “now, you may be on your way.”

The poor boy is too stunned to reply, and does nothing to stop her from slamming the door on his face. A smug smirk forms on her face as she strides back to you.

“Must you be so rude to all my friends?” You say as you glare at her.

“Must you put the needs of every last soul above your own well being?” She shot back, matching your stare.

You’re the one to break the stare first, “I’ll try not to.”

She nods and gives you a satisfied smile as she sits next to you, “now do try to rest. Wouldn’t want me to be rude to poor Alphinaud for naught.”

In the weeks that followed she had been ever by your side. Like your old summons she could effortlessly appear and disappear from thin air, combined with her nature as a being of pure aether it made you suspect you had somehow called upon an egi of Esteem’s former self. This was promptly disproven by the fact that her response to any direct commands was a simple and direct, “sod off!”

By all accounts she should simply be darkness aspected aether, given shape and purpose by your needs and desires, as unreal as Ysayle’s false Shiva. Yet here she was, talking when she wanted to, sleeping when she wanted to, eating when she wanted to--seven hells she even has different tastes than you. There was no other way around it, Esteem had become her own person somehow.

Part of you worried that you had somehow created a Primal of your own heart. That had now been buried under the far more substantial worry that you have been utterly mistreating an actual person with thoughts and feelings, who had done nothing but help you and care for you for weeks. This in turn had been buried under the mess of feelings that struck your heart at the fact that this woman had held you in your sleep for weeks now. Mayhaps you should just focus on hitting things with big swords for now.

On that angle things have been a lot simpler. Your preparations for the journey to Azys Lla were now almost concluded, and as you waited for Master Cid to finish his work you took your time to aid a fellow Dark Knight by the name of Sidurgu.

That man quite proudly embodied the mass of hate and anger you expected from a Dark Knight, a trait that seemed to invoke Esteem’s disdain and earn him quite a share of her unkindly remarks. Neither his emotional state nor her opinion of him were ever aided by the fact that you surpassed him with ease.

You may have stumbled onto this power like a blind fool, but it had somehow suited you with a natural ease that eluded your companion. It was in the pursuit of more power - under the guise of aiding a young girl that Sidurgu had taken under his wing - that you found yourself once more doing menial tasks for moogles. At least today you’d have the catharsis of beating them within an ilm of their lives for it.

What you did not expect was for them to burst into song and dance afterwards.

“‘Tis love! ‘Tis love!” They profess with their tiny voices, “all-powerful, shining love!”

Suffice to say that the both of you were completely befuddled by the performance - Esteem loudly laughing in the corner she carved for herself in your mind - had Rielle, your shared charge, not appeared in that moment you were sure you’d both sit like that for an hour.

It was only as you made your way back to Ishgard that Sidurgu took you aside to talk about what had unfolded. He mocked the idea that love could be the true power of Darkness, but you could see that sharp edge on his voice begin to dull ever so slightly.

A year ago you would have been just as dismissive of such an idea, to properly channel aether you require coldly calculated theorems, not something as nebulous as love.

Yet here you are. You’ve wielded anger and frustration like weapons for months now, why can’t you wear love like an armor?

You loved your friends and that gave you strength.

You loved Eorzea and that gave you strength.

You loved yourself and that…

...Well, did you really love yourself that much? Not as much as you should if Esteem were to be believed, but she does. She loves you, and that gives you strength.

It’s with this context that you begin to notice the little things she does, even when she’s not around. The gentle touches, the kind words, the worry in her eyes after a rough fight. It had been her love that helped you strike down with your blade, it had been her love that held you up when an enemy would fell you. It made you oh so keenly aware of her heartbeat - surprisingly human and comforting - next to yours as she held you both together.

Had you loved her too this whole time?

Perhaps you should have questioned this before the worries of facing Garleans, Ascians, and the Archbishop, loomed this close in the horizon. Perhaps you should have questioned that Esteem’s love didn’t come just from some magically ordained purpose. Perhaps you should have questioned what it meant about you that you so willingly accepted and reciprocated that love.

By the time you arrive at the Fortemps manor that night, you have already made your decision and you find her in your room, reading a spicy romance novel from Emmanellain’s secret stash. Steeling yourself in a way you hadn’t done since facing Ultima, you approach her and bring your lips to hers. It was a fleeting touch, but it had the whole of you buzzing with nervous energy.

With the most detestably smug smile, she brings you close again so she may kiss you back and, as if she hadn’t just shaken your very soul with that act, returned to her reading.

You stare at her, utterly confounded by her lack of any real reaction. It takes her a moment to realize you are still staring and the words that escaped her mouth would infuriate and haunt you for the rest of your existence.

“Was I wrong to assume we’d been lovers for at least a month now?”

Perhaps you really should have just stuck to hitting people with big swords.

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #dark knight #ffxiv dark knight #drk #warrior of light #esteem #warrior of light x esteem

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