#a couple months ago i don’t think I could’ve drawn a hug like that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

leftonraed · 3 years

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The Night We Met - Episode 7

pairing : Taehyung x OC genre : bodyguard!au, singleparent!au, idol!au word count : 5.9 k summary — Everything seems set fair for Taehyung and his niece, except you’re not in the picture much to their dismay. Warnings – smut scenes ahead, nothing too extreme I promise ;] Prologue | ep.1 | ep.2 | ep.3 | ep.4 | ep.5 | ep.6 | ep.7

It must have been the tenth time Taehyung’s skimming his completed adoption request. His parents who arrived a little while ago let him have some peace and quiet in the short minutes they’ve got left before the hearing.

His arms are resting on his knees and his hair hides his face from anyone walking down the large hallway. He relaxes his wrists, forcing himself to stare at anything else but the paper in his hands and calm his nerves.

He closes his eyes and tries to think of anything to disconnect from the noise of people buzzing around.

His mind takes him away for a moment, far enough to make his parents’ conversation nothing but a string of indistinct words. He’s being taken back to this morning, back to his earliest thought of the day – you.

He’d instantly conjured up a picture of you as soon as he had felt your arms wrapping around his body beneath the covers. His lips had stretched in a lazy smile while his hands slid down above yours. The feeling of your lips kissing the skin of his nape had thieved a soft groan of pleasure.

He’d turned around, taken his place between your legs, rubbing against their softness in slow moves before seeking your mouth blindly. You’d hugged him tight, answering his kiss just as zealously.

Taehyung isn’t sure how but he can still smell the scent your neck was giving off. It’s like you’re with him all over again.

The needy moan you had let escape once you had felt him pushing deeper within, had had him rolling his hips against yours for the first time, silently requesting more of those.

The notion of your presence in his embrace was overwhelming. He couldn’t get enough of you.

He’d offered you some respite and buried his face in your neck and hair, thrusting harder, squeezing tighter, inhaling deeply as much as possible.

He could hear you, gasping by his ear while stifling you with his love. Your nails had dug in his back as his name had escaped you in a tired pant. He’d smothered you in a possessive and comforting hold as he had helped you ride out the sudden burst.

He’d followed closely, trapping his throaty grunts in your mouth with a demanding kiss while he was filling you up with more of himself.

Taehyung had never opened his eyes the whole time, he didn’t want to, he wanted to keep you here, underneath and stuck to him simply because it felt right.

Once the pleasurable feeling had worn off, he eventually blinked himself awake, only to be surrounded by a deafening silence and the absence of you.

He felt hot, exhausted and wet. The pillow was sticking to his face uncomfortably when he pulled himself up on his arms to glance down where you were supposed to be. He was left to discover himself in the mess you had driven him to make.

“Taehyung!”

He opens his eyes and looks up in surprise at the loud call from his father.

“You left the poor girl calling for you for a whole minute.”

He recognizes and finally acknowledges Hina’s teacher bent towards him. She had graciously accepted to take part in the hearing in his favor.

“Oh- Hum, I’m- I’m so sorry. I-”

“Don’t worry. I was telling your parents that I’d probably be elsewhere if I was in your shoes.”

“Right,” he trails, smiling awkwardly.

“Your face… It’s hum- a little red, are you okay?”

He shakes his hair in front of his eyes, hiding away in embarrassment, ineluctably forced to remember the last image he had of himself from this morning.

“You sure? You’re getting redder.”

Luckily, she’s cut off by Hina’s sudden burst of joy at his sight, who comes running their way under the smiles of his parents. Her grandparents are walking behind along with Choi Seoyoung.

Just as everyone is done greeting each other, the door leading to the adoption court judge opens welcoming everyone in.

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

Now reunited for good, it feels like the past three months away from each other never happened. Taehyung learns to cherish even more the moments in Hina’s company, indirectly ensuring himself he’s still a special place in her heart.

He makes time for her, from now on family will always come first. It took a couple of weeks for Hina to feel safe in his absence again and stop feeling like being him was going to be ephemeral.

On the other hand, Taehyung’s insecurities were directed towards his career, he struggled to make sense of his desires and priorities. Should I take a break? Should I quit? He still very much liked singing and writing music but one thing he was certain of, he’d need to make some changes in their interest.

One day Hina asked where you had gone and he realized all this questioning made him almost forget about you for the longest time ever.

After she had been taken away from him, he’d become aware he had no means to get in touch with you. He’d never needed your phone number because you had always been around. He’d never seen you use one when he came to think about it. He remembered the gym place you worked at but his touring abroad and busy schedule prevented him from visiting it right after you’d left.

He questioned one of the staff members in charge of human resources but the equipment had been improved and the data with any reference to you had been lost.

He just couldn’t believe it. In this day and age, he couldn’t find you. Just like this, you had vanished.

Hina was just as disheartened when he told her. She made him hate his helplessness all the more.

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

It’s the end of the year.

Parents and children are huddled in front of the school doors, talking animatedly. Taehyung keeps his distance as he ends his chat on the phone with his mother.

“I think I got it the first fifteen times you said it,” he whines. “I’ll give you 4K HD Hina, the singer. Don’t worry. I won’t miss a thing from it. No, still nothing. I don’t think I’ll- we’ll ever see her again. Hm… She tries her best, you know, to not be sad about it but- yeah… It sucks. You should’ve come with dad. It could’ve helped her cheer up a little... I know. Make sure he waits three hours before he takes those pills again.”

The afternoon sunlight is harsh on his eyes when he takes a look and he has to turn around. He’s on his own, save the two or three people lingering outside, on their phones as well.

“You know, your brother must be very thankful to have you.”

Taehyung smiles awkwardly at his feet, shifting his weight.

“I hope she’s not disappointed because it’s just me. I hope he’s watching too, she rehearsed very seriously.” He makes his mother giggle. “I listened to her so many times… I just might as well go and sing with them.”

“You’d look cute.”

“I hope you really don’t plan on doing that. That’s not what I came here for.”

Taehyung turns around instinctively when he hears the sudden voice behind him but the sun hits his face barely letting him see anything even with his eyes covered.

He frowns, blinking as his eyes adjust and freezes.

That dress, he wonders.

The stranger gets closer until the sun is fully hidden behind and Taehyung feels blessed with an even more dazzling view when he recognizes you.

“Mom, I- I’ll call you later.” He trails, locking his phone as he can’t look away.

“Hi,” you say.

You’re here. You came.

You stare back, breaking into a lopsided smile when he’s still not replying.

His mouth opens but nothing comes out.

You wait, the time needed for you to take him in after all those months away and appreciate how he’s changed.

It’s your first time seeing him looking this elegant and formal and it suits him. His hair looks a little shorter. You’re glad to find him doing much better than when you’d left.

Your name is the first thing that he eventually lets out. “You’re here.”

“Of course,” fixing your eyes on him with a soft smile. “I made a promise, remember?”

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

Taehyung lets you lead the march after you’ve scolded him for making you two late. He finds himself glancing down at your hand holding his and at your back, staring shamelessly at the way the fabric hugs your flawless figure.

“It’s packed.” Your voice snaps him back in reality.

“Shit,” he mutters while looking around. “I promised her I’d sit in the front row.”

“This way,” you say but he doesn’t have time to react as you pull him strongly.

You find a bench on a high level.

“What are you doing? We’re all the way back now.”

“Stop whining and take my hand.” You say after climbing up the bench.

He listens and pulls himself up next to you. From this position, you can see the stage with no hindrance but it’s still quite distant.

The curtains are drawn and a group of toddlers is seen waiting behind. A few of them seem not to have moved away from their assigned position but most are either fooling around or look distressed, seeking their teachers and own parents.

Taehyung and you immediately find Hina, right in the center, standing tall and quiet as she skims the crowd. She slightly frowns when she still can’t see him after a third try until–

“Hina!”

She looks up and gazes further away where she’s heard the sudden call coming from. Her eyes widen at your sight.

You wave energetically ignoring the curious looks you’re drawing to yourself and Taehyung. He is staring as well, surprised. He looks back and feels warmth spreading in his entire being at her happiness.

“You can do this!”

Hina lifts her small arm to wave back, fighting the urge to run to you two.

“Yes, Hina! You can do this! Papa is so proud of you!”

“Thank you dad for your supporting words.” A voice suddenly announces in a microphone and laughter rises in the room making Taehyung turn a bright red while you stifle a chortle.

The voice continues, establishing silence, claiming the beginning of the show as the lights are dimmed.

He remembers to get his phone camera ready before the first notes echo. You never lose sight of Hina.

The children’s voices mingle in a surprisingly good harmony when the first lyrics are heard. You feel your heart thumping loudly in your chest as you listen to them, recognizing the lullaby you used to whisper to Hina so she’d fall asleep back during the trip.

Taehyung falters a quick second when you suddenly clasp your finger around his wrist. Making sure Hina’s still in the frame, he turns his head to look at you, noticing how emotional you’re getting.

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

Less than an hour later, the show ends to thunderous applause. Taehyung guides you to the side where children come out to join their family. You don't have a chance to think of something to say to each other when you suddenly feel small arms wrapping around your knees in a tight embrace.

You instantly smile at Hina when you see her looking up delighted and crouch down to pick her up.

“Did you miss me?” You feel her nodding against your shoulder while she hugs your neck tight. “I missed you too. So much. You did so well back there. I really loved your singing.”

She leans back to look at you and holds your face to crash kisses all over your cheek under Taehyung’s jubilant gaze.

You put her down but she quickly catches your hand in hers and hugs one of his legs.

He pats the crown of her head and looks up at you. “I’m really glad you made it.”

You share a smile but get interrupted again as a small group of children comes surrounding you three.

“You’we Hina mommy?” asks a little girl, her neat ponytail swinging behind her.

Five pairs of eyes stare up at you in total amazement as small ‘ahhs’ and ‘ohhs’ are heard.

“Hina mommy is so beautiful!” Cheers a little boy, more excited than he should be.

“I’m not-” You begin, a little taken aback, looking for help from Taehyung but he only keeps smiling. He’s taking too much pleasure in seeing you flustered.

“I know.” Hina boasts with closed eyes.

A couple of looks lingers before one of them suddenly suggests playing elsewhere.

You decide to get out of the school when Hina complains about being hungry.

She peeks over his shoulder to ask, “you coming home with daddy and Hina?”

You meet Taehyung’s expectant eyes and your chest squeezes at their seemingly hopeful looks.

“I can’t, I’m sorry. I’ve somewhere to go.”

“I could drive you if you want,” he starts, tilting his head in the direction you guess his car is parked.

“Don’t bother, I-... You remember Shownu? I told him to come get me.”

They pout at the same time and it makes you chuckle lightly at their likeness though Taehyung tries not to look too affected. He’s hesitating and not so sure anymore about what he initially wanted to say.

Hina suddenly turns away from you to frown in his neck.

“What’s that?” He asks when he doesn’t understand her the first time. “You want _____ to come home with us?”

You gaze at the back of her head with a sad smile and meet his gaze in silence.

I’d like that too.

“Seems like I was right, huh,” he snaps you out of your thoughts. “That dress looks really good on you.”

You look down, blushing a little and nod in agreement. Silence falls again between you. You don’t show any intention to go yet as Taehyung gets lost in his thought.

What are you waiting for?

“CanIgetyournumber?”

“What?” You cock your head.

“Your number? So we can see each other. I mean with Hina too.”

You nod, seemingly accepting his suggestion because the reason he mentioned is a self-evident fact. “Sure.”

You exchange your contact information and you eventually walk away much to his dismay. Hina finally decides to look back when you’re already so far away.

She frowns at your silhouette. “Hina sad.”

“Don’t be, baby,” he cups her cheek to kiss her other one. “We’ll see her again.”

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

You’re the one texting first and Taehyung’s glad you do when he’s too upset with himself for not finding the courage to do so. You agree to meet one night and make sure either of you doesn’t do anything the following day because Taehyung wants to invite you to his concert he’s currently holding in the biggest stadium of the country for the whole weekend.

When you arrive half an hour before the beginning, you’re taken to a corridor left inaccessible to fans that leads to a platform positioned in front of the stage and in the middle of the pit above the fans gathered around. You notice some curious look thrown your way.

There you get to meet the CEO of the company Taehyung works for along with some of his employees.

The show is a big hit.

You’ve felt it the first seconds after Taehyung was revealed and the audience roared impressively.

It all feels a little overwhelming but seeing him in this new light makes you feel all kinds of way. You recognize the man you’ve worked for but he seems so foreign. The aura coming from him is nothing you’ve seen before yet has you enticed through his moves, his looks, his voice.

The crowd leaves bit by bit. You remember him telling you to wait for him right where your seat was assigned to you, saying your goodbyes to his boss.

The venue is now empty, you go down the stairs and notice Taehyung down the corridor chatting with someone on his way up.

You exchange a smile.

You shorten the space between you, you watch him eye you from head to toe as his thumb grazes his bottom lip. You look away. He stops before he gets a whiff of your fragrance, eyelids heavy. You take his hand when he stretches it to you.

“I took some time cause I was showering.” He explains pulling you to the parking lot.

You climb in his car.

“You okay with eating out? We can always order something and eat at home if you’re too tired.”

He swivels the wheel with one hand, running the car out of the premises and making the powerful engine roar while looking at you. “Don’t worry about me.”

The silence between you is comfortable but the atmosphere feels heavy with secret intentions.

“I really liked the show by the way,” you say softly while keeping your eyes on the scenery passing by.

“Yeah?”

“Hm,” you turn your head towards him with a playful look. “But I still prefer Hina’s singing.”

“I have to admit, she rehearsed that song more than I ever did my whole discography.”

Dinner is nice and quiet. Taehyung isn’t fond of talking while eating and you're thankful, it allows you to enjoy the food and himself in a comfortable way.

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

You’re back in the car and driving away after you’ve agreed to go to his home and see Hina.

“I got my diploma. Last week.” You share, “I’m finally able to work as a personal trainer.”

“Really? Congratulations,” he genuinely exclaims while checking the rearview mirror. “That’s awesome.”

“Yeah, but for some reasons I’ve also managed to get a contract with a model agency? I don’t know where this is coming from.”

“Well, they simply saw potential in you. I mean your body is perfect- I-I- I mean you work hard to stay fit so… They’d miss out if they didn’t take you..” He trails, mentally slapping himself.

You simply smile to yourself.

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

The door unlocks and you both see Hina and the babysitter he got for the night sitting in the living-room. As soon as Hina notices you, she darts your way to crash against your legs.

“________!!”

“You’re still awake?” Wonders Taehyung, looking down not to step on her toes.

You hug and lift her in your arms after getting rid of your shoes. You greet the young girl as Taehyung takes care of paying her. You hear her letting him know she tried everything in her power to get the little girl to bed as you sit down and cover Hina with kisses and sweet words.

The door closes a little after.

“Come here. Brush your teeth, go pee and right to bed.”

“No!” She challenges with a frown at him. “I staying with ________.”

He calls her name with a strict tone making her pout and you can’t help but hug her protectively.

“Let me take care of it,” you suggest softly to him.

You carry out her nighttime routine like you used to, noticing how independent she has become which makes you yearn younger Hina.

You let her lead the march to her room, meeting Taehyung on the way and chuckles when she closes the door to prevent him from interrupting your time together.

“Do you want me to read you a book?” You smile once she settles under her covers.

She shakes her head and reaches for your hand. You understand she wants you to lie next to her. You indulge without a word.

“_______,” her voice is already filled with sleep some time after you’ve started running your fingers through her silky hair. “You staying with Hina foweve’?”

You hum back.

“Daddy likes ______.”

You look down at her, smiling faintly.

“He says it a lot. Hina likes _______ mowe.”

You squeeze her gently against you.

“________?” She’s speaking more slowly now. “Pwomise... mommy staying with Hina... and daddy... foweve’.”

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

“Sleeping?”

You noticed Taehyung’s already changed in his sleepwear. You nod while closing her door as quietly as possible. “Like a log.”

He stands up before you get the chance to get close to one of the couches and leads the way to his bedroom.

You wait at the doorstep, watching him browsing clothes inside his wardrobe while in the dark. He shuffles towards you, holding what looks like to be a silky pyjamas.

“I think this will do,” he trails. You take it, thanking him. “You can change here. I was going to open a bottle of wine. You want some?”

You shake your head.

Taehyung walks back in his room when you don't come out, holding one glass and minds turning off the lights on his way.

It takes him a couple of seconds to remark your silhouette on the other side of the curtains, standing in the balcony where you’re enjoying the weak, gentle breeze of this summer night.

He draws one curtain and immediately notices you’ve decided to do without the pants which pulls a knowing smile from him. It shouldn't surprise him. The shirt is long enough to work as a mini dress on you.

You look over your shoulder when you hear the door sliding. He’s staring longer than he’s meaning to but you find it adorable.

He comes to stand right by your side and takes a sip, looking for something to say.

“It’s so quiet.”

“You don’t like it.”

“You should put on some music.” You suggest, tilting your chin towards his phone in his pocket.

“What do you want to listen to?”

“I’m sure you got some exclusive sounds, I could brag about. It’s your chance to upgrade your raking.” You smile when you see him grin too as he goes through files. “You’re not working on anything?”

“I actually am. But it’s a secret for now. I’ve made... thirteen songs. But they’re still very rough. I don’t think we should listen to them.”

“Come on, you know I won’t judge you.”

He looks down with an embarrassed smile, frowning a little. “They’re really not good.”

“I’m not pressuring you. It’s just the two of us now.” You say softly, not breaking eye contact. “We can always find something else.”

He can’t hold your gaze long enough without feeling his face heat up. “Okay, I’ll share one or two.”

You look down at the streets when the first notes are heard, knowing he won’t want to meet your eyes.

“So where’s your manager?” You ask to ease his anxiety. You’re too aware of yourself trying not to sound too interested while keeping your gaze on the cars driving by. “I thought I’d see her at the concert.”

“Uh oh, we’re not working together anymore.” You hum in response. He explains,“conflicts of interests.”

You’re now hearing lyrics sung very softly, setting a comfortable atmosphere. “Does that mean…”

“Yeah, I’m basically managing myself.” He chuckles to himself, smiling a little at you. “I think there’s no other way if I want to live life the way I have in mind.”

You agree silently, not really knowing what to say back.

“I think she liked me. Too much.”

“You didn’t?”

“Of course I enjoyed being with her but not exactly for the same reason I think.”

The song is the only thing heard for a couple of seconds but Taehyung doesn’t seem to be minding it anymore.

“Are you and Shownu…?”

You instantly look up at him when you hear him mentioning his name and rephrase his question when he’s not finishing. “Are we a thing?” He nods slowly once. ”No. No, no, no. I mean he’s nice but... He’s not really… my type.”

He looks away, humming a quick acknowledgement. He finishes his glass. “What’s your type?”

You tilt your head away from him, smiling to yourself. His phone plays the second song.

“I wouldn't know how to describe it. I just know when I meet the person, you know?”

“Yeah, I- Me too.”

You hesitate a little before you speak again.

“Apparently,” you wait for him to look at you to show your innocent eyes. “You like me. A lot.”

He smiles but doesn’t flee your gaze, “who told you that?”

“I can’t reveal my source,” you turn your head away, closing your eyes. You open one to see him looking at you, amused. “I can only say it has the figure of a… little snoring cutiekins.”

He shakes his head to himself. “Of course.”

You find yourself staring at his gorgeous-looking profile, admiring the way his perfect hair falls around his face. “So… You like spending time with me?”

“It wasn’t obvious enough?” He gets shy again.

“Honestly, I can’t recall.”

“What?” He asks with surprise. “Are you being serious?”

“I mean, I was working for you. And we weren’t always on our own. Making assumptions about these things would have been wrong on my behalf. Especially with you. I didn’t want to risk my job.”

“I see.”

He looks down at his empty glass then back up at you when he hears you take in a deep breath.

“I also didn’t want to risk never seeing you or Hina ever again.”

You can see something kindle in his dark eyes, rendering you quiet and captivated. He doesn’t seem like he’s moving but you can definitely tell you’re both getting closer and closer.

“And now?” His voice sounds hopeful.

Your eyes gaze up and down, noticing his lips barely agape. “Now?”

You almost freeze when you feel his breath fanning you delicately. You both remain stagnant for a while which seems to last indefinitely, keeping yourselves apart from each other and foreign from what is to come if you were to give in to those tacit, forbidden desires.

Taehyung can feel his heart beating so vividly at the prospect of tasting your lips. You’re right there. Why is he suddenly feeling so bold? Why is he hesitating?

“_____-”

You don’t allow him to finish and choose to be the one to take the plunge.

The kiss is timorous at first, gentle, barely touching, yet ignites, as intimacy settles, a submerging feeling that diffuses into your two beings.

He’s the first to moan, you to grab onto him, each demanding more of that taste you can’t do without now that you’ve quickly come to like it.

You force yourself out of rapture with reluctance, testing the waters and it only draws him back in like a magnet, quietly surrendering to what you started.

His skin is soft against your face but his arms are strong around your back as they secure you against his chest. His scent overwhelms you, almost in a smothering way but it doesn’t feel wrong. It’s simply foreign. You’ve never got to smell so much of him this long, this strongly. You eventually moan in response.

Taehyung pushes his face harder against yours as a result, tilting your heads. He’s euphoric and he can feel it in his stomach, in his heart, in yours the longer he keeps you rooted against his body, sensing them pulsate in unison, frenzied.

You push back, blindly guiding him to one of the two reclining chairs he got settled for whenever good weather presents itself. He lets himself fall down but not too quickly, not if it means he’d have to break apart from you. You can feel him grip the back of your thighs and have your body straddling his.

You notice his mouth reaching again for yours when you eventually pull away for air. He allows you some respite, watching dazed as you rest your forehead against his, smiling to yourself a little.

When you open your eyes, you stare down at your hand beneath which his chest is heaving with desire.

You feel one of his hands reaching for your hip, under his borrowed shirt. Your eyes fall close again and your breath gets caught in your throat once spasms begin taking over your lower region because of the closeness of his touch.

“You okay?” His voice is barely above a whisper and you yearn for more of that intimacy.

You let out a shaky breath you weren’t aware of holding. “It felt good.”

His fingers squeeze you comfortingly. You meet his eyes and your core tightens on its own, hard. It’s dark out here and in spite of that you can see he’s craving you. So badly.

He drags his bottom lip between his teeth, impatiently.

Fuck.

“Kiss me, _______... Please.”

You stare back, fascinated by so much beauty and yearning. Your mouth falls agape and his eyes instantly glance down.

You chuckle lightly, “if someone saw us right now. You’d be in so much trouble.”

“I don’t fucking care.” He replies immediately, grabbing onto the nape of your neck. Your lips remain at a hair breadth from his now.

You never thought your self-control to be that easily challenged, you want to laugh at yourself. Who would’ve thought?

You poke your tongue to lick his bottom lip looking so inviting, leading him to capture your mouth in a deep kiss. You weave your fingers into his smooth locks, tugging them at the first caress of his tongue around yours.

Yes, you instantly think, fuck them all. This is what matters.

Your other hand takes his off your neck to have it latch on one of your breasts. He’s closing it gently around at the touch of it.

You break the sloppy kiss to trail wet pecks along his jaw and beneath his ear. You hastily unbutton the shirt. “Put your hands on me, Tae.”

He slides an arm around the small of your back at the sight of your bare torso for him to feast on and guides your crotch to push down against his.

Your heart suffers another sudden fit of palpitation at the feeling of his arousal pressing promisingly where you need it the most. His mouth is unsparing against your skin, kissing, licking, sucking it until it has you yielding to your own needs.

Taehyung stops and pants icy, hot air where his tongue wetted you at the feeling of your hips rocking with lustful urges.

He leans back on the chair, head thrown back with his eyes closed, relishing the delightful motions of your body.

“Oh… Fuck…” His nails dig in your ass the more you keep easing tension out of his hard shaft.

You tilt forward, closer, never stopping your sensual dance and he feels it. He gazes up at you under heavy lids, admiring the beautiful view of his shirt open on your naked chest, skin still moist with his saliva, nipples pointing enticingly.

He feels lightheaded.

You comb your hair back to allow yourself a view of the splendor that is Taehyung turned on.

You let out a small groan at the unexpected twitch of his cock. By now, you’re sure you’ve made an embarrassing mess of your panties and you’re also certain he can smell it.

You watch him reach for one of your breasts to suck on the sensitive nipple. You frown down at him, moaning as quiet as you can. He cranes his neck to lick his way up yours to your ear.

“You look great in my clothes.” You smile at his whisper.

“I want to see you too.”

He fulfills your wishes quickly, pulling the back of his tee-shirt above his head, serving you the tantalizing image of his muscular arms and shoulders. You bite your lip, sharing a smile and your hips pick up in pace.

You wrap your arms around his neck, cradling his head to your chest, while he hugs you to him tightly, looking into each other’s eyes. You’re both growing desperate.

“I want you so bad,” he can hear the hopelessness in your voice and it has him oozing more in his briefs. He never thought he’d ever hear you say those words to him. However, he hates how it reminds him of his neglect in equipping himself for the occasion. He never planned any of it.

He’s certain he doesn’t want to put an end to your bliss, not when you’re on top of him, ready to give yourself, not never.

Taehyung mouths at your cleavage, listening to the plethora of pleading escaping you the longer you keep rubbing yourselves together and struggles not to give in already.

The fresh breeze is long forgotten now, it feels hot and sweaty against his body but you’ve passed your point of no return. He’s felt your body becoming tense, seeking the peak of pleasure.

You manage to grunt in between gasps. “... Close…”

“Yeah?” He wonders quietly, trying to keep you on your stimulus.

You furrow your brow, seeing him gazing back with so much adoration it catches you unawares, triggering intense pleasure washing over you in waves. He helps muffling you, comforting your shaking body.

The forceful press of his erection overstimulates you in good pain. Your arms are tight around his shoulders, helping you root yourself while the final tremors wear off.

You don’t want to move away. He doesn’t want to let go either.

He reluctantly moves his arms only when he feels you trying to lean back. He breaks into a shy chuckle but you capture his lips in a needing kiss. You’re quickly out of breath.

“You’re shaking,” he trails softly. You weren’t even aware of it, lost again in his mesmerizing looks. “Was it okay?”

You nod subtly, cupping the back of his head to bring your faces closer. “Yeah… You?”

“Don’t worry about it.” You answer his gentle kiss. “Let’s go inside.”

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

You wake up alone in the gigantic bed, almost engulfed in the mess of sheets and thick covers. Yes, even in summer they’re of use, if you get to spend a night in his bedroom.

Your mind is fuddled, partly because of the short night you had but it’s also quick to remember flashes of it, having you musing on them with a blushing face.

You sit up and locate his tee-shirt, his borrowed shirt, your panties, his briefs thrown across the floor and your abashed smile comes again.

You’re walking down the corridor and can’t shake away the strangeness of it now that you’re seeing his home in broad daylight many months after, not as his bodyguard but as you. You stop before either Taehyung or Hina can notice your presence and take your time watching them be around each other, the way it was meant this whole time.

Your gaze travels from Hina’s back facing you to him and you mindlessly begin biting your lips, gawking at him working in the kitchen, attending to her needs and just being the best person for her. His messy hair and bare chest are a bonus.

He’s a natural. Your chest tightens at the sight of him and at the thought of it.

A heavy sigh escapes you.

“Mind joining us?”

You get startled by his voice and find them looking at you with big smiles. You shake your head to yourself.

Hina is elated raising her arms in the air from her seat for you to indulge into a tight hug. You don’t forget to kiss her cheek, unable to keep yourself from grinning from ear to ear at her sudden burst.

You sit on the stool across her where a bowl of rice and a full glass of orange juice have been placed. She can’t take her eyes off of you. You mind the frying pan he’s holding as he shakes a fried egg on top of the rice.

“‘Morning you,” he trails in a deep voice. He swiftly steals a kiss and walks away naturally.

You remain stunned a couple of seconds, processing the sudden gesture until you find Hina stifling a titter in her small hands.

#bts scenarios #bts smut #taehyung scenarios #taehyung smut #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fluff #bts imagines #bts fanfic #taehyung x reader #taehyung x oc #bts reactions #bts x oc

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annaraebananawriter · 3 years

Text

(Part Three) I Want to Forget

FINALLY!

WHO’S BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE???

I know I have. I’m sincerely sorry for the wait. Motivation was a damn bitch and came throughout the almost full year it’s been since I posted Part One and Part Two (which you might want to read, if you can’t remember or haven’t yet) sporadically.

But I finally finished it. Now, there’s only one more part left and then a little bonus part from Nightmare’s POV. The bonus part is when Jake gets some well deserved Karma from the King of Fear himself! So stay tuned for that.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy.

Fandom: Undertale, but specifically UTMV

Characters: Nightmare, Dream (Who belong to Joku), Killer (Who belongs to Rahafwabas), Dust (Who belongs to ???, I don’t know), Error (Who belongs to CQ), Horror (Who belongs to Sour-Apple-Studios) and, finally, mentioned Ink (Who belongs to Comyet) and Blue (Who belongs to P0pcornPr1nce)

Warnings: Implied Rape (although, it’s toned down more, so it’s more like flashbacks), Implied Self-Harm (but just a tiny bit, barely there) Panic attacks (close enough to, at least), Implied Anxiety and I think that’s it? Let me know!

Word Count: 5254

~oOo~

"Heya," the human said, "you're Dream, right?"

"A-ah, yes! That's me!"

stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid

"Hey, do you want me to get you a refill too?"

"Oh, uh...it's fine. I was just having water, anyways."

"I'll get you some more water?"

"...alright."

Dream forced himself to breathe.

He closed his eyes and pushed those thoughts and snippets of memories down and away. Looking back on them and berating himself for not realizing, not noticing, would only do him more harm than good, he knew that. But he couldn't help it. If he had just...if he had been smarter...if he had...

There were so many 'if' this and 'if' that, it made his head spin.

They clouded his mind, becoming more jumbled as more and more came.

…

"Dream?"

Horror's voice made him start. He blinked his eyes open again and stared at the sink, which had been turned off now and was just dripping. Another call of his name gave him the incentive to tear his attention away and meet the other's concerned eyes.

Drip, drop

Nightmare hadn't told his boys much, as per the wishes of Dream. He didn't want anybody to know how weak he had been, how blindsided he had been, how...anything that happened, really, he wanted to keep as limited as possible. It was bad enough with Nightmare knowing, even if his brother still didn't know all the details. The ones that Nightmare did know made him worry, worry about Dream and Dream hated being worried about.

He was supposed to worry about others. Not the other way around.

However, he was glad that Nightmare respected his wishes. Horror and the others—as they had, naturally, been curious as to why Dream, their supposed enemy, was staying with them, the brothers did kind of owe it to them to tell them something—they knew the bare minimum: there had been an...incident...with Dream and someone that involved, on Dream's part, some non-consensual actions taking place, and that was why the guardian of positivity was staying with them for a bit.

Dream knew that Nightmare's gang was smart, though, and that they had probably read between the lines to understand the actual reason, even if they had been told the truth.

Dream...had been raped.

Admitting that to himself brought shivers and an automatic denial that said no, he wasn't, he was just stupid and naïve and pathetic and he let it happen, it was his fault, his fault, and he could've stopped it, should've stopped it, but he didn't because he was, again, stupid and pathetic and—

Drip, drop

Dream shook himself, realized he had been silent for longer than he should have and laughed nervously, the sudden sound making Horror jump a little.

"S-sorry, I...got lost, for a minute there," Dream said, shaking his head at himself, resting his gaze on the countertop where it was drawn, as if by a magnet, to the two innocent glasses of water. The ice in them had already melted quite a bit.

There was an itch in his mind that begged to come forward, promising another flashback.

Drip...drop

Dream swallowed. "I'm fine," he said softly, in answer to the unheard question. He could feel Horror's eyes on him as he stared at and through the glasses of water. He ignored them and the concern rolling off of the other.

He felt Horror start to speak and braced himself. "...do you remember why we're in the kitchen?"

Dream blinked and looked to Horror, meeting the other's guarded eyes, an unreadable expression on his face. That...wasn't the question he expected. He opened his mouth to answer what seems like an easy question, but found his mind blanking on the answer, like he had just woken up.

But he hadn't. He had been awake for a while now, he knew it.

So why didn't he remember?

His silence was answer enough for Horror, who nodded as if he had heard something. "We were in the garden, picking some fruits and berries that were ready. I was there because it's my job as the designated chef to gather everything that grows there." He paused, as if making sure he was still listening. "You were there because of two reasons: Nightmare wanted a reason to get you out of your room and you wanted some fresh air from being inside the castle for almost a month."

Dream listened quietly while Horror explained what they had been doing. As he talked, fuzzy moments came back to Dream, though the talking was muffled and the scenery was blurred, like he was both there and not there at the same time.

...has it really been a month since then?

"We didn't talk much," Horror continued, "as I could see you weren't all there. Eventually, it became really hot and you asked if we could take a break, cool down for a minute. I agreed. When we got back here," he waved his hand to say, here, in the kitchen. "I asked if you wanted something to drink, you said that you did, although now that I look back, I probably should have asked you what you wanted to drink instead of just assuming." He eyed the glasses, laughing to himself.

Dream shook his head. "It's fine."

Horror looked back to Dream. "It's not, not really, but okay. As soon as I turned on the tap," he nodded to the sink behind him, "you froze, staring at the water. I didn't notice until I had gotten our glasses. Sorry."

"It's fine," Dream repeated, shaking his head again. "you didn't do anything wrong. It's silly, anyways."

"It's not silly." Horror straightened, steel in his voice. "It's not silly. What happened to you..." he trailed off as Dream cringed. "It's not silly."

Dream said nothing.

Drip...drop

He never drank the water, either.

~oOo~

The hours passed by rather slowly until it was after midnight. Dream was sitting on his bed, fingers playing with the blankets when there was a knock and Nightmare entered without waiting for permission. Which was fine, as it happened most nights; they practically shared a room now.

Nightmare would come, Dream would be awake, they would talk and Nightmare would force Dream to sleep, being there when Dream had a nightmare, usually being gone when he woke up for good, although there was a couple of times when Nightmare had been asleep when Dream woke up. It made Dream guilty, but he didn't stop it.

"Horror told me what happened." Nightmare said, like Dream thought he would. His brother was still standing by the door, like he did every night.

Dream nodded slightly.

It was silent.

He inhaled as he realized Nightmare was expecting him to talk. "It was silly."

"It wasn't."

He clenched the blankets in a fist by his side. "Yes, it is!" Dream blinked against the sudden wetness of his eyes. "It's weak, too."

"Dream, it isn't silly." Nightmare said firmly, moving to sit beside him. Dream refused to look at him. "Nor is it weak. These are normal reactions to what happened."

"What happened was almost a month ago!" Dream sniffed, reaching up and rubbing at his eyes. He was so tired of crying. "I should be over it, but I'm not."

Nightmare was silent. "...that's not how things work, no matter how much we wish they did. Rape," —Nightmare ignored how Dream flinched at the word— "is one of the most serious things in the world. It's wrong, so, so wrong, but it still happens, and those it happens to don't just forget about it and move on suddenly. It's a process. You have to heal from being wronged and learn how to live with the effects of what happened. And that's going to take a while."

No.

No, he had to be wrong.

Dream had to be different because...

He should be different because...

Dream was shaking, trying to think of reasons as to why he should be different, why he should be over it already. He didn't know when, but his head had been moved to Nightmare's shoulder and Nightmare was hugging him as much as he could.

"I was drinking water that night," Dream started, surprising himself but finding himself unable to stop, "I was at a bar and I was drinking water and he didn't care and we talked and when we ran out, he offered to get us a refill. I tried to refuse him because I was just drinking water, but he insisted and he got me some more water, but I didn't realize he had drugged it." Dream sobbed, his emotions getting the best of him, reaching up with a shaking hand to clutch at Nightmare's shirt. "It's my fault."

"It's not." Nightmare shushed him, rubbing his back. "It's not, nor will it ever be your fault. You didn't ask for it, you didn't want it and it shouldn't have happened, but above all, it wasn't your fault."

~oOo~

Dream didn't know what to think of Error. The destroyer wasn't at the castle all of the time. He usually came, like, once a week or something and just lurked around a bit, annoying everyone but the guardian.

And he didn't know why. He wanted to know why.

But how did he ask something like that? 'Hey, I noticed you don't bother me when you're over and I know you probably know about what happened, but I still would like to know why.' No. That just sounded...weird. It was all weird, worrying about something so small like this but he couldn't help it. It was something he couldn't control and, frankly, he didn't want to. It was normal. He wanted normal things.

He was tired of things not being normal.

Admitting this didn't solve anything, though. He still worried about it. And he shook his head at himself when he caught himself drifting into the thoughts about it, the what-ifs and such. He did this a lot. It was also tiring.

It was one of the days that Error was over that something inside Dream rose.

It was like his bones were on fire, and every time something touched it, it hurt. It felt like hell and made him want to cry and cry but he couldn't because he was tired of crying and it was all so frustrating. Everyone walked around him, sneaking glances at him, because they knew something was wrong but they didn't know what. Even Nightmare was at a loss for once. And then everything was too much; the sounds too loud, the fabric too rough, everything heightened and he hated it.

HateditHateditHateditHatedit

Someone, he couldn't tell who, tried to touch him, rest their hand on his shoulder as a reassurance, but it stung. God, it stung so bad and Dream knew that he had to get away. He didn't know why, and that didn't help, but he had to get away from anything that wanted to touch him, bring back things he wanted to forget. So, he ran away from the problem.

Which was how he found himself in the bathroom, skin alight with ghost hands that he hated but couldn't get away from because they weren't real. His vision was blurry from tears he held back by force. Shivers racked his body, but they couldn't shake the memories away either.

—Hands tied to the headboard—

—Bad hands going over, down, over, down—

—Stupid, stupid, stupid—

—Over, down, over, down, down, down, hurting, hurting, hurting—

—Hatehatehatehatehatehatehatehate—

Dream shut his eyes tight, trying to drown the images in blackness, but it didn't work. Nothing worked. That was pathetic. He was supposed to be getting better, why wasn't he getting better? Why, why, why? He wanted to forget what happened. He couldn't forget what happened and that scared him.

He pressed his forehead to his knees and went in—

"Distraction usually helps me, when this happens."

—and out, eyes snapping open and head whipping up, Dream met the eyes of Error, who was sitting against the sink, shoulder relaxed. His head leaned back and up, one of his eyes closed, the other watching Dream.

He blinked. When did Error get here? Here, in the bathroom with him? He hadn't heard anything besides the images, the bad thoughts and his own breathing struggles. Was he so caught up in his head that hadn't heard anything else? How more pathetic could he...

He dug his fingers into his ankle, the pain keeping him from staying too far. No. He refused to say bad things about himself any longer. Nightmare said this was normal, this was healing, and if he said it then it must be right. If he continued to view it as unnatural and wrong, he would be disrespecting Nightmare and he never wanted to do that. Nightmare's trying to help and if says something is good then it must be good and that's good.

What Error says suddenly springs back to him and he tenses. "What?"

Error shifts, sitting up and opening his other eye, gazing at Dream evenly. He was still calm. "When this happens, when everything is too much." He pauses. "When the touch feels like, in my case, it's probably different for you, electricity, where it zaps me if anything touches me, reminds me that it's bad."

Dream blinked again and it's out of his mouth before he can stop it: "Like the fire?"

Error nods, eyeing him thoughtfully. "Yeah. The electricity, the fire, it lies, that's what you have to keep in mind. It says something bad, that touch itself is bad, but it's not." His gaze becomes knowing. "It can be, sometimes, but it's not meant to be like that. It's meant to be a good thing. Understand?"

Dream slowly nods, saying he does, though his mind is elsewhere.

A lie. A trick of the mind.

Like when he's in a small, small, small place and it's so dark he can't see anything and he thinks that everything's closing in when it's not, that he can't move when he can.

Just like that.

That feels like suffocation and touch feels like fire, but they're both lying. They both want him to believe somethings wrong when nothing is, all they're doing is trying to protect him, keep him from getting hurt again the same way he was. And sometimes, sometimes, they get so panicked that they scream and overwhelm him, but that's okay. That's normal.

He can calm them not that he knows what they're trying to do.

Dream looks up from the floor. "You said distraction works for you. What kind of distractions?"

Error tilts his head, thinking. "Lots of things, really. Going to Outertale and staring at the stars is one. It gets a bonus for being pretty. Watching Undernovela is another one, a great one because the talking overrides everything and it makes me laugh. Uh...Oh! Knitting, too, is one because the yarn is soft and..." Error continues on, rambling about distractions for himself that eventually just turns into an infodump about the process of knitting, how to choose the right yarn, things like that.

Dream sets his chin on his knees and listens, smiling.

Listening to people is a distraction he uses anyways so he's glad he can use it with this too.

~oOo~

Later, once Error leaves and Dream finds enough courage to face the others again, he goes downstairs. Everyone pauses once he enters the living room, stares at him for a second, then returns to what they were doing before he came. The only one who doesn't is Nightmare, who continues staring at Dream.

Dream looks back and gives a small smile, a real smile, the first one he's shared since he started living here. Nightmare blinks, surprised and smiles back, relieved that he's good.

~oOo~

Dream walked into the main living room and looked around. Nightmare wasn't there, but Dust and Killer were. They had cards in their hand and had looked up when he walked in. They went back to their game upon seeing who it was, seemingly unconcerned with his presence, but he did notice a slight increase in the tension of their shoulders.

Dream hesitated, but walked over when the curiosity (and worry) over where Nightmare was won out. "Um...do you—?"

"Boss had an errand to run," Killer answered, voice clipped. He seemed to be annoyed at something. "He took Cross and Horror with him. We had to stay to watch you."

Dream flinched.

"Killer." Dust warned, looking up from his cards.

Killer snorted, shrugging a bit. "Just telling sunshine here the truth."

Dream shifted and quietly thanked the two. He retreated back to the door, but paused before leaving. The two had gone back to their game. He watched them play for a minute, watching them laugh and glare at each other playfully.

The sight brought a feeling of longing.

He hadn't realized it until now, but he really missed his friends. He missed laughing with Ink and Blue. He missed playing games with the two, just like Dust and Killer were doing. He missed just being with them, when all they had to worry about was when Nightmare and his gang would attack next.

He missed the before. Dream liked the before. He didn't realize how much until it became the before and he was in the after. It was kind of shocking, just how much he missed those times, the sense of normality and happiness. Now, here he was, watching two friends play a game together while his friends had no clue where he was. They were probably out of their mind with worry, especially Ink, who was there before everything changed.

Maybe he should...

No, no. He couldn't. That wouldn't be fair on them. This was his problem, his...trauma. He didn't need to burden his friends with the knowledge of what happened.

His friends didn't need to know, right?

He was fine with what he had now.

…right?

"Hey, sunshine!" Killer called, making Dream jump. The two had apparently finished their round, as Dust had started to reshuffle the cards. Killer had turned to Dream and had an expectant look on his face. "Are you just gonna stand there, or are you gonna join in?"

Dream blinked. "What?"

Killer rolled his eyes, which was interesting; he didn't have any eyelights. "If you're gonna stand there, you might as well join in. It'll beat just standing and doing nothing while you wait for Nightmare."

They...they wanted him to join their game?

(Why would they want his presence? He was their enemy.)

But...

But...he thought the two were uncomfortable with his presence. Weren't they? That's the message the tense shoulders had given him, along with the clipped tone Killer had talked with. Did Dream imagine all that? Surely not. But they didn't have any tension now; just the opposite, they looked like they wanted him to join.

Well...if they wanted him too, it wouldn't hurt, right? Besides, maybe all he needed to soothe the longing was to play a game with other people.

"Um, yeah! I'll join."

"Great!" Dust smiled and patted the spot across from them. Dream sat down and waited as they were all dealt out. They had been playing a game of Uno. Good. It was a game that he knew. Dust flipped over the first card, which was revealed to be a yellow seven.

Killer's turn was next. He placed down a blue seven, changing the colour.

Dream hesitated before playing a blue eight.

They played in silence for a few minutes. Killer always groaned when he got faced with a skip or a plus two. Dust just faintly smiled when it happened to him and in response to Killer. Dream watched it all happen, fighting to keep a smile off his face.

They had gotten a fair amount into the game—Dust had two cards, Killer had nine and Dream had four—when Killer shifted his legs into a different position and spoke up. "You know, sunshine, you don't have to just stick by the Boss while you're here. The rest of us don't bite."

Dream looked up from his cards, oddly feeling like a deer caught in headlights. "I...I don't know what you mean..."

Killer gave him an unimpressed look. "I think you do. The first few weeks you were here, you locked yourself up in your room. Which is fine. You weren't ready then, I understand." Dust played a card and Killer scowled, picking up a card from the draw pile. "However, you've been coming out of the room for...what has it been? Two weeks? And all you've done is hang around with the Boss."

Dream stilled. "Oh."

"Yeah." Killer looked up and met his eyes, his emotions giving nothing away to what he was thinking. "You don't have to do that, you know. We aren't gonna be mean or anything—" Dust snorted at that. Killer glared at him. "We're not...I'm not gonna be mean or anything."

Dream shifted himself, an unplaceable feeling growing.

Dust spoke up, voice soft. "We know what happened."

Dream fought hard not to flinch, instead staring hard at his cards as if he could burn them with his mind. He didn't know why this was so scary for him to hear. He knew they knew already. But still...

Down, down, down, down—

Fear, panic, guilt, confusion—

Hurting, hurting, hurting, hurting—

Sometimes he still found it hard to believe that other people cared about him, not just that their source/drug of happiness might be broken.

"I'm not saying it's necessarily wrong for you to stay beside Nightmare so much," He heard Killer continue, voice still deceivingly uncaring, apathetic. "but it might not be the healthiest. I mean, you give off the vibes of needing to talk to more than one person about your issues."

"Everyone here has their share of trauma, Dream." Dust said, voice still soft and gentle. "It might not be quite the same as yours, but we know what it's like. You can talk to us, okay?"

"When you're ready, of course," Killer reassured. They were both gazing at him when Dream finally looked up. "if you want to just talk to Nightmare, that's fine. You do you. We just want you to understand that we're also here if you need us." Killer slid into a grin, gesturing to the cards. "Or if you just want to play Uno."

Dream swallowed.

This was a lot to take in.

He appreciated it, he really did. He also was under the impression that he had already known that they were willing to help, especially after talking to Horror and Error, but the fact that tears were welling up in his eyes made him think otherwise. It was overwhelming that the people he had fought tooth and nail with not that long ago were the ones telling him this now.

Overwhelming and needed.

The smile he had been fighting won out and spread across his face. He reached up and wiped away his tears before addressing the two, soul filled with gratitude. "Thank you." He made sure his words sounded genuine, even though he knew they knew he meant them already. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

Dust nodded and looked back at his hand. "Great. Now," he grinned, placing down a plus four wild card. Killer gasped, offended. "Killer, pick up four. And it's red now."

"It was already red! You can't just change it to the colour it was!" Killer continued to fume, though he also began to pick up four cards, seemingly forgetting that he could challenge Dust. It seems Dust knew this would happen; he had a smug look in his eye and he sent Dream a wink when he caught him looking.

Dream looked down and let himself start to giggle.

~oOo~

Dream had been thinking recently.

One, he didn't know what happened to Jake. This had come to his mind during a bad day, one where he couldn't leave his room because the thought of going outside of it made his skin tingle and a feeling of utter fear run through him. When Nightmare had first found him, it was the next morning and he hadn't mentioned anything about the whereabouts of Jake since. It made him wonder. It also made him a bit fearful, not knowing what happened to his rapist.

The second thing...was that he hadn't seen nor heard from his friends Ink and Blue since the raping. For the months he's been here, he hadn't even thought about them until not that long ago. It also made him wonder. How they were feeling, if they missed him, if they were looking for him. Knowing them, they were probably scoring the multiverse for him. Not that they would find him. Nightmare's castle was hidden very well. Not that it would matter; they still thought Nightmare and him were on bad terms with each other.

Thinking about his friends made something ache in him. He really missed them. He hadn't noticed it, but he did. He missed their movie nights, where Ink would criticize the movie and Blue would defend it and Dream would just laugh at them, amused. He missed when they all baked together, almost burning down the house because they sucked at it. The game nights, the sleepovers, the laughs, the bonding...he missed them so much.

They were great friends.

And Dream needed to tell them what happened.

The need to do so filled him, made his heart pound and mind race. He wanted to see them again and they deserved to know. He trusted them. Nightmare and his gang knew, but he hadn't trusted them at first. He had always trusted Ink and Blue. Telling them was something he could control. He could decide whether he told them or not.

And he decided to tell them.

He just had to tell Nightmare that now.

~oOo~

The next morning, Dream rehearsed what he was going to say over and over. He knew that Nightmare would probably agree, say that it was a good thing he wanted to tell his friends, but he just...couldn't get himself to move, to knock on Nightmare's door and ask.

Instead, he just found himself staring at the dark wood.

Staring and staring and staring.

He sighed.

It was frustrating. He knew that wanting to tell people about Jake was good, that it meant he was recovering and healing, but somehow—somehow, his mind didn't really recognize that as a real thing that will happen. If felt too good to be true, that they'd look at him with disgust and say it was his fault and confirm everything he already thought of the incident and oh god he can't do this why was he here oh god oh god oh god—

The door opened from the inside and Dream yelped as a tentacle pulled him through, Nightmare shutting the door behind it. The appendage dragged him along as Nightmare returned to his desk, first dropping him in one of the seats in front of it and then taking his seat for himself.

Nightmare laced his fingers together and stared at Dream expectantly.

Dream stared back with wide eyes, frozen stiff.

Silence reigned.

…

Nightmare sighed, making Dream jump, nerves on edge from being pulled into the room so suddenly and put in the spotlight before he was ready (even though he knew everything he wanted to say and could pretty much predict the ending). His brother waved his hand, leaning back. "So?"

Dream blinked. Now was his chance. All he had to do was say 'I need to talk to you, Night'. It's not that hard. 7 words. Practically nothing! So, c'mon mouth work with him here and say it...now— "So?"

—or just repeat what was said. That works too. At least you said something.

Nightmare stared. "You were standing outside the door for some time, clearly anxious to ask me something." He paused and looked away, sheepish. "I was getting a bit annoyed with waiting." He looked back, gaze knowing again. "I decided to take the initiative for you and open the door, as you would probably think yourself into going away."

He took a breath. "So, I'll ask again. What did you want to ask me, Dream?"

Dream broke off the eye contact, instead looking at his hands as he fidgeted with the end of his shirt. He knew that Nightmare was watching him, waiting. He was always waiting for Dream, no matter if it was now or back then, when he was waiting for him to come back to the tree.

He didn't like being waited on. It made him feel awful that others had things to do and people to hang out with and instead of doing those things, they were waiting for him, as if they needed his permission or something. Dream was fine on his own, he could handle it, they should just do their own thing and the next time they met, he'd be better.

Except with...this.

Rape wasn't a thing he could handle on his own.

That's why he needed to do this, why he was here. He had to ask—no. Not ask. He had to tell Nightmare that he was going to tell Ink and Blue about what happened. He didn't tell the gang himself what happened, at the time not being able to admit what had happened to him. But he was somewhat glad they knew without him telling. It was easier that way.

But Blue and Ink were his friends, not Nightmare's.

Dream deserved to tell them what happened himself.

"I want to tell Ink and Blue."

Nightmare paused, making Dream look up. His brother was eyeing him cautiously, a faint surprise present in the air. "About what?"

A rhetorical question.

Nightmare already knew.

He just wanted Dream to say it. "About Jake. And the bar. And what happened." He took a breath. "Everything."

Nightmare watched him for a moment. And he said, so soft and gentle understanding, "Okay."

That was all.

Just "Okay."

It was all that was needed to be said.

The surprise faded and pride took its place. Not much, but it was enough for Dream to detect. It made him shy and feel weird, but in a good way, and he looked down at his hands again, this time fighting a smile. He always got this way when someone was proud of him; it didn't happen as often as people assumed, so it was always nice.

Nightmare caught his attention again. "Do you know when you want to tell them?"

Dream shifted and frowned. "No...I didn't think that far ahead." And though he knew Nightmare didn't like it when he did it, added, "Sorry."

Nightmare glared at him with no real intent. "Don't be. It's fine. How about in...a couple of weeks? Would that be enough time?"

Two weeks, more or less.

Dream mulled it over.

Having a set time for seeing his friends again already made him nervous, but he dug deeper to see if it was enough time to prepare himself mentally. No real backlash came, no fear, no what-ifs, nothing besides the normal—or at least what Nightmare says is the normal—amount of worries. He wasn't starting to overthink it yet, and he should probably make his decision now before he does start to and backs out.

Two weeks. Yes or no?

Dream looked up and met Nightmare's eyes and said, "Yes."

#my writing #my fanfiction #oneshot #undertale #utmv #dream sans #nightmare sans #horror sans #error sans #killer sans #dust sans #mentioned ink sans #mentioned blue sans #implied rape #tw implied rape #tw flashback #tw panic attack #tw self-harm

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bellemareyouserious · 4 years

Text

Panic Room

warnings: tom wilson x f reader, mention of alcohol, mention of toxic relationship, swearing, SMUT

word count: 3,682

authors note: WOW y’all its been a hot minute since i wrote anything!!! i was inspired to write for @hockeynetwork‘s fic exchange, this story is for you @ihaveamillionfandoms !! i really hope you enjoy it! (special shoutouts to @tkuhnhackl for helping me edit and to @coffee77cat for sending me so much hot Tom for inspo)

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Panic.

You're 3 shots and a couple of drinks deep when you spot your ex boyfriend through the crowd. You could've sworn it was a drunken hallucination but the second glance tells you it's a nightmare come to life. The fear sets in quickly when you shoot a side eye to your best friend at the exact same time she spots him. She's in the middle of the dance floor with some random guy attached to her back so she can't do much to help you besides motioning for you to get some air.

The drink in your hands is funneled down your throat before you're speed walking to the bathroom on the verge of a panic attack, praying your ex didn't see you. The breakup was nasty and only happened a couple of weeks ago, though it felt like years since you've seen him. The relationship should've ended months before. You kept making excuses for him and blaming it on yourself. Looking back on it, the toxicity was all him and you finally figured out you deserve better than that. So you left.

He didn't take it so well. Called you every name in the book, tried to turn your friends against you, even tried to convince your parents to talk to you for him. You knew you made the right decision when he trashed your car before your 12 hour shift. Even though it was finally over, the emotional trauma left behind wasn't so easily forgotten, which is why even seeing him sent you into fight or flight mode.

The path to the bathroom is crowded and dark. You definitely have a slight buzz that isn't helping either. You finally spot the small sign and practically run around the corner to get there when you run face first into a broad chest and nearly fall backwards, but two strong hands catch you before you hit the ground.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry are you okay? I didn't even see you comi- hey is that you y/n?"

Before you get a chance to be embarrassed about the situation you quickly recognize the large man in front of you as Tom Wilson from the Washington Capitals. Or just Tom to you.

"H-hey Tom, it's okay I ran into you. Thanks for uh, catching me," you stutter out, still in panic mode from seeing your ex. You see the confusion on his face as soon as you feel your hands shaking on top of his arms. You've known Tom for a couple of years now through your job. You started as a nursing student intern at Medstar and eventually worked your way up to becoming a full time pediatric nurse. The Capitals often visited the kids staying there and you happened to meet Tom one day on their Christmas visit, immediately blushing and thinking of how hot this guy was. Your coworkers were quick to spot how he was making you feel and kept teasing you about it until he walked in and heard the whole conversation. Your face when you saw him in the room had to have been priceless; he cracked up when you turned around and realized. It was one of the most embarrassing moments of your life but when you went to lunch that day there was a note waiting for you on the fridge. "You're cute when you're embarrassed. Text me sometime. Xo Tom" with his number attached to it. You couldn't believe he had an interest in you but you needed to play it cool and wait a few days to text him.

You talked to him constantly the first couple of weeks, and you really thought there could be something between you two. However, with both of your jobs being so damn hectic, there was little to no time to see him and things fizzled out pretty quickly. You were bummed but the two of you still occasionally talked over the last few years and hung out as friends a couple of times.

Now he's standing there holding you, on the brink of a breakdown, in the middle of a loud and crowded club. Perfect circumstances, you think sarcastically.

He lifts your chin up with one finger and looks in your eyes before he speaks this time. "Hey look at me. Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I uh, saw my ex on the dance floor and I'm kinda freaking out," you manage to get out while looking over your shoulder for any sign of your ex.

Tom's demeanor instantly shifts from soft and serious to protective. "Has he hurt you? Do I need to beat his ass?" Now he looks around despite not knowing what he looks like. You chuckle to yourself but put a hand on his chest.

"No you don't need to beat his ass but I appreciate the offer. He's never touched me but he can get scary when he's drunk. It didn't end well," you undersell how badly it ended so Tom wouldn't actually kill him tonight. "Just the sight of him put me into a panic but I feel a bit better now."

His eyes fixate back on you to find worry still written on your face. "Well now that I know that I'm not letting you be alone in here. Nobody should ever feel that way," he all but barks out. You flinch away from the sound slightly, his thumb rubbing your arm instinctively when he notices. "Do you still want to go to the bathroom for a minute? I'll wait here for you."

His strong presence alone calms you enough to feel okay again, though you want to make sure you don't look a mess before returning to your best friend. "Yeah, that would be great actually. Thanks, Tom," you smile at him as you slipped into the bathroom. Your hands brace the sink as you take a look at your flustered state in the mirror, not too bad for someone who basically saw a ghost. Your face is beet red but other than that, not even a hair out of place. Impressive. You’re glad for at least that, Tom seeing you like that and looking like a hot mess would've been even more embarrassing. You smooth your outfit swiftly before returning to Tom.

"You okay?" he asks at your return and you give him a small nod. "Okay good, let's go get you some water," he holds his hand out for you to take and intertwines your fingers easily, making your heart skip a beat. Your eyes flick down to your hand and back up to Tom's face just in time to see the hint of a smile pulling at his lips while you weave through the crowd. The flush on your face is more prominent now, you’re sure of it.

The heavy beat thumps against your chest, distracting you from your irregular heartbeat and dizzy thoughts. You run into someone and realize it's y/b/f/n.

"Oh my god, y/n. Are you okay?! Sorry I couldn't get away from that guy in time to be with you. I think your ex left but I can't be 100% sure-" their rambling stops when they realize you have a giant man attached to your arm. "Oh wow, Tom right? How lucky is y/n that you're here tonight?!" They grab Tom for a hug, he looks surprised that they remember him and returns the hug, never letting go of your hand. "I'm so happy you're here!" you hear them yell in Tom's ear over the music. They look between the two of you and gesture back to the dance floor, "Shall we?" They reach for your free hand and drag both of you onto the crowded dance floor. Your eyes meet Tom's again as you raise your eyebrows at him, earning a laugh.

You are starting to feel better and more comfortable just by having Tom's hand in yours. A poppy song starts playing so you start bopping along when Tom suddenly twirls you around and draws you back into his arms, face inches from yours when you start to feel the butterflies. It feels like you could stay this way for hours and be content with it.

You sense Tom is thinking the same when he gives you a shy smile but he immediately surprises you by turning you back around and attaching himself to you, hands gripping your waist. You’re glad to be facing away from him just so he couldn't see the growing flush on your face. His mouth dips down to your ear and you shiver as he whispers, "Is this okay?" in a low voice. Your enthusiastic nod makes him giggle; meanwhile his hands grip your hips even tighter. Y/b/f/n catches a glimpse of you and wiggles their eyebrows up and down with a smirk. If you were closer to them, you would've smacked them in the arm.

Y/b/f/n picks up their phone and is on a brief call before striding back over to you and Tom. "Hey, my friend is gonna pick me up and I'm staying at their place. Tom, you okay to take y/n home?" they ask suggestively while looking between the two of you; you both just laugh and Tom speaks up first.

"Yeah I think I can handle that, as long as it's alright with y/n," he looks down at you expectantly and your heart speeds up once again. The effect that one sentence had on your body was almost embarrassing.

"Y-yeah, yeah. Go with your friend, be safe," you completely stutter out.

Y/b/f/n pulls you in for a hug and murmurs, "You owe me one, kid. Be safe and have fun," they wink at you and wave goodbye as they disappear into the crowd.

….

The traumatic events of the night are just a memory now, Tom's frame against yours the only thing on your mind. The way his hands travel your body, how perfectly his body moves in sync with yours, the tension between you is electric and you both know it.

In the spur of the moment, you turn to face him and interlock your hands behind his neck while pushing your hips towards him. His eyes sweep down, taking in your form while his lip is drawn between his teeth. The rhythm of your bodies never stops, just gets closer and more desperate for each other. The world seems to freeze when he looks into your eyes, down at your lips, and back up to your eyes again, silently asking permission for what he's wanted to do all night. You stop breathing for just a second before moving your hand to his cheek and going in for the kiss.

It's slow at first, wanting. The way his lips envelope yours sends your mind wandering, hoping this night ends with you in his arms (and his bed). His tongue slowly slides into yours, making you melt into him even more. The rhythm of your tongues mimics your bodies and you're craving his touch everywhere. His hands come up to rest on your ass and you immediately remember you're in a public place. You break the kiss just to catch your breath while looking up at him through your lashes, seeing the blush on his face makes you want to jump on him right then and there.

"Do you maybe… wanna get out of here?" you ask shyly, as if you weren't just dry humping on a crowded dance floor. His low laugh sends shivers down your spine as he nods.

"My place or yours?" he asks in your ear. Before moving away he places a soft kiss right below your earlobe and you can feel your heart rate speed up instantly.

"Yours? If that's okay?" His hand finds yours and the walk outside feels unbearable. The crowd of people only slightly part to let you by, every moment you're not attached to him feels like eternity. It's a bit chilly outside and with how hot you already are, it makes your whole body shiver.

You're finally at his car and he opens the door for you, a hint of amusement in your smile. "Wow, what a gentleman, thank you," you tease, but before you can get in he lays a firm smack on your ass. The feeling goes right to your clit and turns you on more than you'd care to admit. His smirk shows he knows exactly what you're thinking.

"What was that about being a gentleman?" he breathes out while closing your door. The second he gets in the car, you are buzzing with electricity. Everything he does gets you hotter. The car revs and you're speeding off to his place, his hand on your thigh moving upwards until you think he's finally going to touch you but then he pulls away.

By the time you get to his house, your underwear is soaked with anticipation. He practically throws the car in park and runs around to your side of the car to open the door for you. Even for a hookup he's a gentleman, although a small part of your mind wants it to be more than a hookup. You never stopped thinking about him even while dating your ex.

Tom's hand reaches for yours as he helps you out of the car, both of you eager to get inside. He fumbles with his keys before the door is finally unlocked. As soon as you walk in, he slams the door shut and backs you up into it. Your breath catches in your throat while you take in the sight of him; the way his shirt strains against his biceps, how his pants hug his waist just right. His eyes are doing the same to you while one hand hits the door next to your face and the other cups your cheek. He can't stop staring at your lips when he whispers, "You have no idea how long I've wanted this." It makes your knees go weak, but his body pressed against yours keeps you upright. His kiss is urgent but tender, one hand roaming your body. The kiss deepens and you're left breathless, fingers tugging on his hair and clawing at his chest, silently asking for more. He gets the hint easily and suddenly his hands grip under your thighs as he picks you up. The kiss is never broken while he walks backwards towards his room, his knees abruptly hit the side of his bed and you both fall on it, giggling the whole time. He puts his hands on your legs and picks you up once again, turning you around so he's on top of you. His kisses trail from your neck down to the hem of your top and his hands find the bottom of it. He looks up at you asking for permission, so you lift yourself up so he can take it off easily.

His eyes go wide as soon as he sees your bare chest. "So fucking beautiful," he groans while moving his mouth towards your already hard nipples. His mouth is around one licking and sucking and you can't help the small moans escaping your mouth. Your hand finds his shoulder and you motion for him to take his shirt off. He's straddling you now and easily removes his shirt, the sight one you could never get tired of. His wide frame is chiseled and you can't help but reach out and touch it. Your hands trace his muscles before finding his button and undoing it. He bites his lip and sighs at the almost contact but you continue to move slowly just to tease him. Once his pants are finally off, he moves down the bed to take yours off. A whine catches in his throat when he sees you in nothing but your panties. He comes back up to kiss you, tongue darting in your mouth with impatience. His finger moves down your body leaving goosebumps in its place. He hooks your underwear around it and pulls them down around your ankles. His finger finds your clit easily, making you moan into his mouth. His thumb starts circling your clit while his strong fingers move to your soaked pussy. He grunts when he feels just how wet you are.

"Fuck baby," he pants out, "so fucking wet for me huh?" You just nod in response, unable to form words. "Is this okay?" he asks while mouthing sloppy kisses down your stomach.

"Yes, yes babe," you whine. The pulse in your clit is making it hard to not push his whole face down so he can give it the attention it needs. "Please, Tom."

His tongue finally finds your throbbing clit, slow and timid motions at first while he gets a feel for what you like. He licks a stripe down and back up through your slit, nose brushing your clit on the way back up. Tom’s tongue is moving in circles making your legs shake. He sucks your clit into his mouth and you can't control the noises that come out of your throat. His mouth comes off of you with a pop and he's smirking up at you between your legs before he suddenly puts one finger into you making you gasp. He pumps it into you a couple times before adding a second one and curling them in just the right way. Your chest is heaving and you can feel your orgasm building slowly when he pulls out of you. He stands up next to the bed and pulls his boxers down, hard cock finally springing free. You look up at him through your lashes and reach out to touch it. His eyes flutter shut the moment your hand is around him, slowly pumping him before you're kneeling in front of him to put it in your mouth.

He looks so fucking pretty like this- lips red and swollen, dick eager to be in your mouth. His hand grips your hair, pulling your head back slightly before you lean in to kitten lick the tip. You swirl him around in your mouth briefly before taking half his length in your waiting mouth. His hips buck at the contact, fist tightening in your hair. You can feel him watching you, so you look up at him innocently before moving so his cock hits the back of your throat. The moan that leaves his mouth is so fucking hot so you keep going, moving his other hand to your head so he can better direct your movements. He goes gently at first but feels your moans around him so he increases his speed and starts to fuck your face. There's spit running out of your mouth and tears threatening to come out of your eyes but the look on his face makes your pussy quiver.

He slows his motions and lets go of your face before helping you up. He signals for you to get on the bed while he gets a condom from his bedside table then rips it open with his teeth. Once it's on, he climbs over you and looks over your body before finding your eyes and brushing your hair back. You can't help but smile and blush at how the whole night has played out.

His thumb comes up to rub at your cheek before asking quietly, "You ready?" You nod and return the favor of pushing his hair back while locking your legs behind him. He runs his cock through your folds and pushes into you gently. You both gasp at the feeling while he bottoms out. He gives you a second to adjust when he pulls almost all the way out and thrusts back in, making you whimper. Your walls are already fluttering around him, nails gripping his back.

"Fuck y/n, I'm not gonna last when you feel this fucking good," he groans in your ear. He picks up the pace and starts thrusting even quicker, pelvic bone hitting your clit in the best way. You can feel yourself getting close when he slightly changes angles and makes you feel like you're floating. You move your body along with him, nails dragging down his back causing him to bite your shoulder. His cock is hitting in just the right place and you start to unravel underneath him, walls clenching as your orgasm hits.

"Fuck Tom, I'm cumming," you whine while bucking your hips to meet his. The moan that escapes your lips when you finish just inches him closer. You're still out of breath, but you clamp your walls down on him making him curse softly. His thrusts become erratic and you know he's close.

"Cum for me, babe," you whisper in his ear and pull on his hair, eliciting a loud gasp. He pumps into you a few more times and then stills while a string of curses falls from his lips. He kisses you sweetly before collapsing next to you on the bed.

You both look at each other at the same time and you move to put your head on his panting chest. His arm comes firmly around you and gives you a small squeeze, fingers running through your damp hair.

"Wow," he breathed out. "You're incredible, you know that?"

You can't help but giggle. Only 1 night spent with him and you already feel like a princess.

"You're pretty incredible yourself."

"Remind me why we've never done that before?" he teases with a smirk. "Can I ask you something?" You just nod lightly in response. "Can I take you on a proper date?"

Your head whips up to look at him, the cheesy grin on your face hard to hide. His eyes light up as soon as he sees your expression.

"I would love that, Tom," you answer cheerfully and he returns the smile. He leans down to kiss you and you both let out a content sigh.

Hopefully this was the beginning of something special.

#tom wilson #washinton capitals #tom wilson x reader #ihaveamillionfandoms #the summer fic exchange #tom wilson smut #nhl imagine #nhl smut #hockeynetwork #my writing #i hope you like it!!!

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fangirlovestuff · 4 years

Text

The Heart Wants What it Wants - Chris Evans x reader pt.3

a/n- Hey lovely people! hope you’re all doing great! I know i’ve said this is the last chapter, but I was thinking about making an epilouge of sorts from Chris’ perspective... anyone interested? if yes please tell me! italics are for thoughts/memories and bold italics is text messeges. Also you know the drill... summary is from pinterest. Hope you enjoy <3

part 2

Summary: You either say how you feel and fuck it up or say nothing and let it fuck you up instead.

Warnings: age gap, a little angst

It's been 10 months since the last time you saw him, at that bar. You tried to give up the habit of counting, but it was useless. You went on a couple dates, but it was a waste of time. You had almost resigned to your fate of being an old maid, married to your job.

Now, you were sitting in Scarlett's kitchen, munching on some chocolate chip cookies you'd just baked together. You never told Scarlett about Chris, about your… thing. How could you? You had no idea what would she say, how she would react. Would she tell you it's a good thing you weren't together? Would she tell you to move on? Or would she tell you something else, more positive? You didn’t know, and the thought was giving you a headache.

"Spill it," Scarlett said, sitting down next to you after she finished putting all the dishes in the sink. She picked up a cookie and took a bite, making an appreciative face. "You've been zoned out all day. What's going on?"

"Nothing," you finished your cookie and picked up another. You shrugged at Scarlett's inquisitive look.

"Alright, you leave me no choice." She got up, taking the plate of fresh cookies with her and backing away before you realized what she was doing. "No more cookies for you until you tell me what's wrong." She put the plate down on the counter and stood in front of it, her hands crossed on her chest.

"Noooo," you whined. You could just get up, but you were a little tired from hiding such a big portion of your thoughts from Scarlett. She was pretty much your mentor in everything else, what's the harm in telling her? It’s just one person who you trust and love.

"C'mon, keeping things in is never the answer," Scarlett urged you.

You had been distant all day. It was just one of these days you were deep in your head about love and life and whatnot. Scarlett deserved an explanation – it was one of the rare days you could spend together, given your often conflicting schedules. And honestly, you just wanted a hug, someone to comfort you and tell you it's all gonna be okay. You hoped Scarlett would do that and not something else, but you trusted her.

You sighed deeply. "I'm sorry for being distant," you started. "It's just… there's this guy. And well, he's wonderful really. I met him like two years ago." Scarlett was smart, so you needed to… compartmentalize, twist the facts a little. You wanted to share your own struggle with her, not Chris', especially because she knew him. "We hit it off, but it ended up not working out. And I just can't seem to leave him behind. I met him again some time ago, that's why I was distracted."

"Who was it? I don't remember you telling me about anyone special two years ago," Scarlett furrowed her brow.

"You don't know everything about me," you said in a mock-mysterious tone, smirking.

"So, what's stopping you from leaving him behind?"

"Well, I can't stop thinking about the what ifs. What if we would've been great together? What if he was the love of my life and I let him go?" you said, taking a sip of water.

"The love of your life are big words to describe someone. He must've had a pretty big-" she started smiling and you swatted her across the arm, nearly choking on your drink. If she knew who she was talking about, she DEFINITELY would've not said that.

"I was gonna say heart!" she sent you an innocent look and you gave her a "cut the bullshit" one. "Anyways," she continued, unbothered, "If you feel like that, why not just go back to him? Ask him for a second chance."

"It's not that easy," you smiled bitterly. "There was a pretty good reason why it didn't work."

She nodded her head at you, expecting you to elaborate. "Let's just say there were things we weren't willing to give up on for the sake of our relationship."

"Alright, go ahead, be mysterious," she smiled fondly. You knew that was her 'you're so young and innocent' smile, but you appreciated that she didn't voice the thought out loud and treated you overall seriously. "Look, maybe things changed. I still think you should ask him."

"Thanks," you got up and gave her a hug, reaching behind her for the plate of cookies and grabbing another one. She laughed when you released her to take a bite.

"What do you wanna watch?" she asked, bringing the plate with her as you both went to the living room, sitting down on the couch.

"Something really really sappy."

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

Another night in the public eye, you thought bitterly as you eyed the roomful of strangers with fancy dresses and suits. Some of them actors and actresses, directors, creatives, and some of them there for media coverage. Ever since that night at the bar a year ago, you couldn't help but look at the industry with bitter criticism for taking your happiness away from you, in a sense.

You turned back to the conversation with a forced smile on your face.

"Oh no, I really don't think I'm gonna get it," Scarlett laughed and tucked her hair behind her ear gently. She was up for a 'best actress in a drama movie' tonight, and everyone but her was convinced she was going to win. Your eyes roamed around the room again, unable to stay interested in the polite small-talk. You took in the elegant décor of the room that was filling with familiar faces by the minute. Everyone was all smiles and polite interest; "oh, I heard you did that movie with…", "That's a beautiful dress!", "Who are you here with?" and similar questions were spoken abundantly throughout the room.

Your eyes stopped on the back of a suit jacket. At first you were just staring into space, not really focused on what you were seeing but rather listening to different conversations around you. But then the man wearing the suit moved a little, still talking to someone, but that shook you from your blank stare. You registered the black suit jacket filled up nicely with broad shoulders, moving your gaze to his neck and the back of his head, soft brown hair looking appealing to touch. He turned around, his profile now within your sight, and you felt your breath get caught in your throat. How didn't you recognize him?

You couldn’t resist – your gaze traveling over his features; his long lashes, bright eyes, flushed cheeks, beautiful lips, broad shoulders covered in a black tailored suit-jacket.

Shit, what am I doing? You averted your gaze quickly before he would notice you staring. He was talking to someone and he had a beautiful girl on his arm. Knowing Chris' track record, she could've easily been just a friend, but rationality has never been known to be a worthy adversary to jealousy. You took a sharp breath. The feeling panged through you, making your muscles clench, your body tensing up. You forcefully pushed him out of your mind, willing yourself to relax and be sensible. He's not yours, he never will be, whispered a thousand voices in your head. Shut up, you thought back.

You and Scarlett took your seats in one of the first rows. Chris was sitting somewhere behind you, and you could've sworn you felt his gaze travel across your neck, shoulders, back, but maybe that was just wishful thinking. Either way, his presence felt awfully prominent to you.

The night went by in a blur, award after award being handed out to people, some genuinely grateful and excited, some looking too smug for the occasion in your opinion. You tried to pay attention, but simply couldn't. Maybe you were tired, maybe the ceremony was just boring, but you just didn't have the willpower to stop your thoughts from wandering all over the place. Is Chris looking at me? Should I try to look back at him? Are we gonna talk tonight? What good would that do? Ok, focus on the ceremony… But maybe we still stand a chance? If we talk tonight, should I tell him I've changed my mind? That we should go for this no matter what? Maybe things changed, you remembered yours and Scarlett's conversation from a couple of months ago. No, that's just the boring ceremony talking, this industry is your life, you're gonna regret this. Or maybe you're not, maybe loving him will be better than anything else… Oh you've loved him this long and nothing's changed! Ugh, I mean being in a relationship! Maybe this time-

"And now, presenting the award for best actress in a drama movie…"

The conversation you were having with yourself in your head got cut off by the announcement for Scarlett's category. You abandoned your thoughts immediately, grabbing Scarlett's hand and squeezing it in encouragement. She smiled back at you, shaking her head. You raised her eyebrows at her, nodding playfully. You both giggled and she turned her head as the camera showing the nominees focused on her, waving a little.

"And this year's best actress in a drama movie is… Scarlett Johansson!" The crowd applauded and the camera focused on Scarlett once more, her face drawn into a huge shocked smile. She covers her mouth with her hands excitedly before hurriedly getting up, her dress swaying around her in elegant drips of fabric as she makes her way to receive her well-deserved award.

"Thank you!" Scarlett smiles from her place up on the stage, the award clutched tightly in her hands as she speaks into the microphone. "I honestly never believed I would win tonight, I had some amazing competition," she gestures at the other nominees and the crowd applauds once more. "I'd like to say a huge thank you to everyone who worked on this movie with me, you've made it such an incredible experience, and thank you to my family and my friends," you blew a kiss at her from your seat as the camera moved to show you, "for loving me and inspiring me. Have a wonderful night everyone!" she grinned once more and went behind the curtain to the side of the stage.

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

Later that night you were once again in an after party, but this time you dragged Scarlett along - "You won an award! You've gotta celebrate somehow!"

You were sitting in a relatively secluded table with Scarlett, drinking as people came to congratulate her on her win. She kept smiling at every single one of them, thanking them like they were the only ones who said it, and you really didn't know from where she has this amount of energy. If this would have been you instead of Scarlett, you probably would have snapped at some of them already. Hell, you were close to doing it anyway. Your as-of-late bitter attitude towards the film industry plus the fact you couldn't have a conversation alone with your friend for more than one minute before getting interrupted made you grumpy. You sulked as you took another sip of your drink.

In the sea of people coming to congratulate Scarlett, there was one you actually didn't mind seeing that much. Your head snapped up when you recognized his deep voice, "You deserve it, you really do," you tuned into the conversation.

"Thanks Chris," Scarlett smiled fondly at her former costar and he returned it. "This is-" she started to introduce you before she realized, "Oh wait, you've met before, right? At that party like five or six years ago?"

You didn't know if it was the light playing tricks on you but it seemed like Chris' cheeks flushed a little. "Yeah, I remember," he smiled and extended his hand, "great to re-meet you," he said as you shook his hand. "Yeah, you too," you smiled at him, thanking god you were both good actors and sober enough for this.

"God, you two looked so engrossed in conversation that I left earlier that night," Scarlett reminisced, "You looked like you'd take a while and I didn’t wanna spoil your fun," she chuckled.

"Yeah, it was a great conversation," he smiled politely.

Chris laughing at something you said, stroking his beard as he listened to you, talking about his family, talking about sports passionately. Chris' hands on your hips, yours against his chest, his mouth on your body, your tongues battling for dominance as you push his shirt up over his head. The memories of that night hit you like a truck. It took all your willpower to push them aside and send him a tight smile back.

"See you around," he nodded at the both of you and turned away. He started walking and you and Scarlett used the few seconds to talk between you. From the corner of your eye, you saw Chris turn back to sneak a look at you. You gulped as you were listening to Scarlett talking about whatever it was. Your heart fluttered in your chest because he turned back. You remembered the night at the bar, how he didn't turn back, how he left you feeling the worst you've felt in a long time. You didn't know if it was for the better or not, but Scarlett was right; something did change.

After a few minutes you excused yourself from the table and headed to the balcony for some fresh air. The party was at a fancy penthouse, so you allowed yourself to enjoy the privilege of the cool night air as you processed your thoughts. You gripped the railing with your hands as you thought it all over - you and Chris, the advice Scarlett gave you, that night at the bar. You felt like you were drowning; engulfed by silence but certainly not peaceful, trying to see the clear picture, your next move.

The silence was broken by the sound of footsteps behind you. You didn't move, thinking it was just someone who came out here to smoke and won't bother you. But they were getting closer, sand a pair of strong, familiar arms leaned on the railing next to you.

"Gonna throw me down?" you chuckled bitterly while you raised your eyes to meet his cool blue ones.

"Now why would I do that?" he smiled.

Flashes of sentences you said that day entered your mind, taking on a new meaning from his perspective - "I can't give up on my dream job, I should have given up on us… I don't want you, go away…"

"I don’t know, I figured the way things ended when we last saw each other you wouldn't be the biggest fan of me."

"It's okay. Not a wonderful apology but I'll take it."

You huffed, "I wasn't apologizing, just saying facts." You raised your eyebrow. "But I am really sorry," you sighed, "for everything."

"As I said, it's okay," he smiled.

You both remained quite for a while, standing next to each other looking at the lights below and the stars above, each lost in your own thoughts. After a few minutes you shivered slightly, the cold getting to you and making the exposed skin on your arms fill with goosebumps. You let out a shaky breath, wrapping your hands around yourself. Chris' gaze turned to you, hurriedly taking of his suit jacket and wrapping it around you.

"No, Chris it’s fine, really, you'll get cold without it," you tried to resist, but he wouldn't have it. His hands kept the jacket tight around you, and you could feel the warmth of his palms even through the material. The jacket was warm and smelled like Chris, but you knew it was nothing but a pale imitation.

Chris' look was stern. "Fine," you surrendered, adjusting the jacket around your shoulders.

"So, how've you been?" you asked after a couple of seconds.

"In general? Good I guess. In regards to you? Broody."

You let out a chuckle. "I appreciate the honesty. If it makes you feel any better, I haven't exactly been a ray of sunshine either."

"Damn. The universe really did a number on us didn't it?" Chris smiled sadly, looking up at the moon.

"You believe in the power of the universe? Like, the power it has over us?" You ignored half of his statement.

"Well, I think however you look at it the universe has some form of power over humanity. We're like a pebble in its shoe." He raised his eyebrows at you.

"That annoying, huh? I feel like you may be overestimating the human race here."

He let out a small laugh. "Yeah, maybe. But no matter if you're looking at it from a religious, superstitious or scientific standpoint, the universe is factually enormous, way bigger than us, therefore has more effect on, well, everything."

"Yeah, I get your point. I was asking more about the preordained and stuff," you remarked.

"I don't really know where I stand on in that matter," Chris answered. A small silence followed before you answered.

"Well, to offer my two cents on it – we get dealt certain cards, whether it be by chance, God, our star chart or the freaking, I don't know, Flying Spaghetti Monster," you both chuckled, "so there are things that are beyond our understanding and our control. But we have choices, plenty of them."

"Sometimes it doesn’t feel like that," Chris sighed.

"Not all the choices are good ones."

You both got lost in your thoughts once more, the silence settling between you. You thought about how you couldn't make him have that choice. What if it doesn't work out and you just lost a lot of support for nothing? What if he doesn’t want you anymore? Maybe that's what changed.

"I love that about us," Chris sarcastically broke the silence. You sent him a quizzical look and he continued. "How we can talk about the meaning of the universe before we'd talk about what's actually bothering us."

"Well, it is a very interesting conversation," you smiled sadly.

He sighed, his eyes closing, making his eyelashes flutter across his cheeks. "I can't stop thinking about it. Us." He looked up at you, making your breath hitch. "I just… whatever this is, it's gonna hunt me for the rest of my life if I don’t explore it the furthest I can."

"Curiosity killed the cat," you replied.

"But satisfaction brought it back," Chris quipped back. "Don't you feel the same way I do? Because if you don't, I'll leave it. We can never talk again if that's what you want. But I don't think you do."

"You don't know what I want," you replied softly, feeling the cracks in your heart pry open again.

"You’re right, I don't. But I know what I want. I want to take you out to dinner. I want to kiss you again, without feeling like I'm hurting you. I want to know you, no hesitation or forced boundaries. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. For years I've convinced myself it's wrong, that we would never work out. But it doesn't work out with anyone else either. If you'll have me, I don’t care what happens. I'm willing to take that risk. I'm willing to regret you for the rest of my life." His eyes bore into yours and your breath caught at the intensity of the moment, the raw emotion in his voice sending shivers down your spine.

"Chris, I…" you swallowed and licked your lips. "I couldn't stop thinking about you, about us, for a really long time now. And I don't think I would ever forgive myself if I continued to push you away." You stepped into his space, face moving up to meet his gaze. "I want this. Maybe even more than anything I've ever wanted. So screw them," you gestured to the roomful of people behind the balcony door, "because I'm tired of holding back."

"Then don't," Chris whispered softly. Your hands went up to cup his face as you brought your lips together. At first it was tentative, a touch of warm lips in the cold night air. Then his tongue was entering your mouth, kissing you like your mouth was air and he was a man drowning, the desperation evident in the way he was devouring you. He pulled you against him, his warmth enveloping you as one hand went to the small of your back and the other to cup the back of your head. You wrapped your hands around his neck, kissing him with passion only he could awaken. Your heart fluttered in your chest, you felt free.

You pulled away to breath, looking into his eyes. And it finally clicked; the answer you were looking for right there in front of you. Being in Chris' arms again felt like coming home. Your heart finally felt healed. How could you have thought you were able to let this man go? The pure truth ringed in your brain – I love him. And you couldn't say it yet, because it would sound ridiculous. But something in you knew. Instead you opted for something more casual.

"Let's get outta here," you said and pecked his lips.

"Oh no, we're doing this right." He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, which was still on you, and took out his phone. "Here, gimmie your number," he murmured against your cheek and pulled away, extending his phone to you. You typed in your number, an amused smile on your face, and returned the phone to him.

"So?" you asked.

"So, we get back in, which by the way, it's a miracle no one has seen us yet."

You giggled at that, "Guess the universe is on our side after all?"

"Maybe," Chris smiled. "Anyway, we get back inside, and tomorrow I'm gonna call you and then take you on an actual date. How does that sound?"

"Sounds perfect," you grinned and pecked his cheek. "Here, take your jacket back," you handed it to him. He took it back and put it on, taking your hand and squeezing it once before going back inside. You stayed outside for a couple of seconds, making sure you look respectable before following him back inside.

Later that night you were already home, drying off your hair from your shower when you heard your phone buzz with a text. It was an unknown number.

"See you tomorrow, goodnight

-CE"

You smiled and saved his number before texting him goodnight back.

That night you fell asleep with a smile on your face. No matter what happens next, you'll have him by your side, and that's more than enough.

Taglist: @swatson06 @horny-nd-bored @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds @phoebe-21-99 @wintersoldierslut @iceebabies @wanessalopesueiros @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree @kaitcordx25 @bequeening @steve-barry-damon-logan @itscrazycherryblossomcollection @hollandxmarvel @darkwitchfromthesouth

if you wanna join / be removed from the taglist, comment/reblog/message me! (tagging some people who liked my post too) much love <3

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans angst #scarlett johansson #chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine

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heyyyharry · 4 years

Text

Harry thinks Y/N is his secret Santa

(A Flatmate Christmas Special!)

Word count: 3.3k

This takes place before the flashbacks in the Christmas special in book 2 :)

Merry late Christmas ho ho ho 😂

“Why are you guys doing Secret Santa a whole week before Christmas?”

“Most of us will go home for Christmas so we want to do it early,” Harry whispered back to Y/N so everyone at this long table couldn’t hear them. “Fyi, you’re looking extremely nervous. Relax, they won’t bite.”

Despite what he’d just said, Harry knew it wasn’t easy for her to sit there with his friends and have Layla give her the kind of look that he would only see in his nightmares.

“Yes, Layla?” Louis said once he'd finished explaining the rules.

Layla lowered her hand, still glaring at poor Y/N. “What is Harry’s girlfriend doing here?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Harry blurted, making Layla scoff.

“Then she has more reasons to not be here.”

“She’s here because I want her here. Please shut up.”

Everyone was shocked by what Harry had just said. Even Harry himself could not believe he would live to say that to Layla. His mouth clamped shut as he thought his life would end right there at that table, but Layla was too appalled to even say a word let alone hurt him. Well, at least Y/N seemed proud of him. He felt like a hero.

“The more the merrier!” Niall exclaimed while rubbing Layla’s back to calm her down. “Why don’t we get to my favourite part. Lou?”

“Oh, yes!” Louis chuckled nervously as he turned around and pulled a Santa hat out of his bag. “So now, I will give the hat to each of you. There are eight pieces of paper, each with one of our names. You will close your eyes and draw a name, if it’s yours, take another one and put your name back into the hat. Got it?”

“He’s talking to you, dumbass.” Layla shot Y/N a glare and the poor girl hurriedly nodded her head.

“Don’t worry about her, she’s a dick,” Harry said, making her smile. She seemed less nervous than before, which also made him less nervous.

Louis told Y/N to go first and handed the hat to her. Harry studied Y/N's expression as she read the name on the piece of paper before putting it into her pocket. She seemed indifferent so it couldn’t be him, right? Or maybe she was playing cool so nobody would know.

“Harry!”

Harry blinked fast. Everyone was staring at him.

“It’s your turn," Y/N said, giving him the hat.

He could hear Layla curse him under her breath for taking so much time but he decided to ignore her and closed his eyes to draw a name.

Please be Y/N. Please be Y/N. Please be—

Trix.

His smile dropped as he put his paper away. Giving the hat to Niall, he turned back to look at Y/N, but she was talking to Louis and wasn’t paying attention to him. A part of him was sad that she didn’t seem to care who he got; another part of him was also sad because he didn’t get her.

He didn’t want to sound ungrateful. Everyone would kill to get Trix because Trix got excited about anything. She would love everything you gave her. The hardest person to please would be Layla, but she was someone else’s business, not him. Thank God.

Still, he really wanted Y/N.

“Who did you get?” he asked her when they walked out of the cafe after saying goodbye to their friends.

She seemed chilled so it probably wasn’t Layla. But there were five people left, himself included, who was it?! He really hated second-guessing.

“You know I can’t tell you.”

That was the response he’d expected but not what he wanted to hear.

“Is it Niall?” he tried anyway, thinking he would get the answer based on how she reacted, but Y/N kept that same mischievous smirk on her face and he hated to admit how much it turned him on right now.

“It’d be so funny if you got Layla,” he tried again, adding a nervous laugh, but still no luck for him as her expression stayed the same. “It's not Liam, is it? He already has everything so good luck finding a good present.”

She didn’t even look at him and just kept on walking.

When they stopped at a red light, Harry blurted out, “it’s me, right?”

This time, she glanced up at him.

He tried to look for a clue in that stare she was giving him, and maybe he’d been looking too much into it that he believed he might have got the answer.

“Fine,” she said when the pedestrian light turned green and everyone crossed the road except for them. “I’ll tell you my person if you tell me yours. If I have to break the rule then so do you.”

There’s no way I'm gonna tell her—

“I got Trix.”

Fucking dumbass, said the voice inside his head but he ignored it as always.

“Now, tell me yours,” he said, looking hopeful.

As the corners of her lips turned up, Y/N took a deep breath, tiptoed and leaned in closer. His heart was pounding so hard and fast that he feared it might jump out of his chest and start sprinting across the road. If she said it was him, he might—

“No.”

“What?” His smile dropped in an instant. “But—”

Y/N didn’t wait for him to finish and just walked straight ahead as the light turned green for the second time. He hurriedly chased after her, shouting, “I’m very angry at you!”

But goddammit! How was he still turned on?

“Go to the mall with me.”

“Why?”

Harry sat up on the couch, raising an eyebrow at his flatmate who was already putting on her coat.

He didn’t want to sound crazy but he’d spent the entire day analysing every word she’d said to him to figure out whose name she’d drawn. He could’ve spent all that time trying to come up with the perfect Christmas present for Trix. But sorry Trix, I hope you love snow globes...

“I need your help with the Secret Santa thing since you’re a guy.”

“Ha! Your person is a guy!”

“Congratulations, you eliminated Layla,” Y/N said with the most underwhelming tone as she pointed to the door. “Now can we go?”

He huffed, rolling his eyes. “I hate you.”

If only he could really hate her.

Christmas shopping was the worst! Going to the mall at this time of the year was no different from suicide, but Harry kept telling himself he was doing this for Y/N, and possibly himself too.

It made sense right? If it wasn’t him, she would’ve told him already. It’d be easier for her to find the perfect present for this person with his help since he knew what his friends liked and she barely knew them. Y/N was a smart girl. She knew what she was doing.

“What would you want for Christmas?”

“Me?" He flinched. "Why are you asking me?”

“Because you are a male?”

“Why me specifically?”

“You’re my flatmate! It’d be weird if I asked Niall or Lou or Liam, right?”

He didn’t believe her, but if she knew he’d cracked the code, she might not trust him to go shopping with her anymore. He had to play dumb. It was the only way.

“What are you giving Trix anyway?” she asked as they kept on walking aimlessly ahead.

“A snow globe.”

His answer made her cringe. “That’s lame. Would you get that for me if you were my Secret Santa?”

Of course not! You’re different!

“Why? Do you prefer having me as your Secret Santa?”

“I’m indifferent.” She gave a shrug and he smirked.

“Yeah right.”

As expected, she said nothing and changed the subject, “where the hell are we anyway?! I need a map.”

As Y/N went on and on about how crowded the mall was and she couldn’t see anything but people, Harry stood there, gazing at her.

He had always hated those cheesy scenes in movies where the main character looked at the person he or she loved and everything started moving in slow motion, the noises were cancelled out and the background was blurred as if they were the only two people in the room. But ever since he discovered his feelings for Y/N, he’d been just like one of those lovesick characters.

“Harry?”

The voice pulled him right out of his thoughts. The girl didn’t wait for him to react and just pulled him in for a hug then grabbed his face to shove her tongue into his mouth. He instantly pushed her away, horrified.

“What?!” She scoffed as if she hadn’t just sexually assaulted him. He didn’t even know h—Oh wait.

“Penny?”

“You do remember me,” Penny said with a smirk, twirling a lock of hair around her finger.

Of course he remembered her. She was one of the best sex he’d ever had.

No, no, no, no, no! You do not get to be a whore around Y/N! Get your shit together! said the voice inside his head as he frantically looked around. Wait, where’s Y/N?!

“I gotta go, Penny. Nice shoes!”

Penny immediately grabbed his hand. “You can’t kiss and run, love.”

“I didn’t kiss you...you—”

“Shh!” Penny put a finger to his lips, taking a step forward so their lips were almost touching but just barely. “I’ve missed you,” she murmured, batting her eyelashes at him. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Can I see you tonight?”

If this was a couple of months ago, he would say yes or even take her back to his place right now. But the new and improved Harry, the person he wanted to become for Y/N, would have to decline.

“I’m sorry but I can’t.”

Surprised and confused, Penny raised an eyebrow. “How about tomorrow night?”

“No, I mean...not...ever,” he said cautiously before removing her hands from his shoulders and taking a step back.

He wasn’t going to explain anything, but then he remembered how insecure Penny could get. After every hook up with him, she would ask him if he thought she was pretty and she would continue asking even though the answer was ‘yes’ every time. He couldn’t hurt her feelings now. If he did that, he didn’t deserve Y/N.

“You’re a great girl,” he said as Penny was about to leave. “But...I’m having a...thing with this girl and...um...I can’t be with anyone else...because of her.”

“A thing? Like...a relationship?”

“No.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t do relationships. It’s just…this thing um...I don’t want to be with anyone else but her.”

“So like a relationship?”

“No!”

“Do you want her to be with anyone else?”

“Of course not!” As he instantly realised how defensive that sounded, he cleared his throat and lowered his voice, “I want to be with her and I want her to be with me. Like...just the two of us. I-I want to be the only person she kisses, the only person who gets to hold her hand, the first thing that comes to her mind when she wakes up, but...I don’t want to be her boyfriend.”

I don’t know why I'm telling you this but it feels good to say it aloud...

“Okay, I get it,” Penny said with a big smile. “Well, good luck with your non-relationship thing. Have a merry Christmas with your non-girlfriend.”

Harry didn’t know how to respond to that so he just waved goodbye and watched Penny disappear in the ocean of shoppers.

That was embarrassing, he thought. But now he had to find his non-girlfriend and get the fuck out of this living hell.

After wandering around on his own for nearly half an hour, Harry finally spotted Y/N in one of the crowded fashion stores. He was about to go in with her but then he saw her grab a blue scarf and wrap it around her neck.

Thinking no one was watching, his flatmate stood in front of a mirror and started smiling at her reflection while posing like she was doing a photoshoot for Vogue. It was so adorably hilarious that he could not let himself interrupt her. He decided to wait outside.

Y/N took off the scarf and stared at it for a long moment before she made up her mind and brought it to the checkout counter.

Harry's heart fluttered as he stood there, grinning like a fool while imagining himself wearing the scarf everywhere he went.

Gosh, she got me a scarf. That’s so thoughtful and intimate. I cannot believe it.

“There you are!”

He almost jumped when he heard her voice, and before he knew it, she was standing in front of him.

“Sorry.” Harry cleared his throat. “I was distracted by a man dressed like an elf.”

“Were you busy shoving your tongue in the elf’s mouth too?”

Shit, she saw the kiss.

“It’s not what it looked like.”

“Whatever. Let’s get out of here before I have a panic attack.”

“Hold on!” He grabbed her wrist, pointing to the bag she was holding. “What’s that? Did you buy something already?”

Y/N tilted her head and squinted her eyes at him. “I’m not showing you the present Harry.”

“Right, right.” He nodded fast but couldn’t stop smiling. “Whatever it is, I’m sure the person who receives it will love it.”

And might or might not be wearing it everywhere he goes, even the shower.

“You’re acting weird,” she said, lifting an eyebrow. “Are we leaving now or do you have another tongue appointment?”

“Okay, I did not kiss that girl. She kissed me.”

“Sure.”

“Stop it, you don’t believe me!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do not ‘uh-huh’ me like that! Y/N!” he raised his voice, pushing his way through the crowd and chasing after her.

“A snow globe?! Oh my god, how did you know I've always wanted one?! You are the best Secret Santa ever!”

Everyone rolled their eyes as Trix hugged Harry while squealing and giggling like she’d just won the lottery. Before Trix could begin with her thank you speech and start praising Harry for being a great friend, Layla raised her hand and demanded to see her present.

Niall wasted no time to put a huge box on the table, causing everyone to ‘wow’ed, and Layla to grip her chest as if her heart was about to burst with happiness.

“This better be LV or Gucci!” she said and quickly unwrapped her present. To her disappointment, it wasn't neither. "It’s...another box.”

Niall stayed silent as Layla started unwrapping the second box.

“And...another box?! Are you fucking kidding me? Don’t you fucking dare film this, Louis!”

“I’m not gonna post it!”

“You got two boxes! That’s so cool!”

“Shut up, Trix!” Layla grumbled before shooting Niall another glare and taking a deep breath. Everyone was impatiently waiting for her to unwrap the third box...and the fourth...and the fifth...and the sixth...and…

“A necklace.”

“Surprise!!!” Niall cheered, but the look on Layla’s face shut him up in an instant.

“Is Niall going to die?” Y/N whispered, making Harry laugh.

“Layla won’t hurt Niall,” he said, and she sighed in relief.

“Good. He can’t die before he opens my present.”

Harry turned paralyzed right as he heard those words. Everyone was laughing at Layla who was hitting Niall with the biggest box even after thanking him for the necklace, but Harry was just sitting there with a blank face.

He didn’t even react when Niall pulled out the scarf from the box Y/N had wrapped herself last night. And he didn’t react when Niall said how much he loved it and that it was the most thoughtful gift he'd ever received.

Harry knew Y/N had never said the scarf was for him. He had come up with all of that himself, but he couldn’t help it. He was mad at her.

“Ugh, I want the mug Layla got you,” she said as they walked home together. London got more crowded at night which was why she was walking so close to him now. If he hadn’t been mad at her, he would’ve been over the moon.

Y/N was ignorant of his attitude and just kept on talking. “Thriller books aren’t for me. But don’t tell Lou, okay? I’m sure this book is great, just not for me.”

He didn’t say a word when she put the book back into her bag. It was then that she realised he’d been quiet for a reason.

“What’s wrong, Harry?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking?” She looked thoughtfully at him, smiling. “Is it about the scarf?”

“No.”

Y/N snorted at his short reply.

What’s so funny?! I’m mad at you, Y/N!

“Did you think it was for you?” she asked.

Yes?!

“No.”

Y/N didn’t say anything else as the two of them continued walking in silence. It was getting colder and Harry didn’t want to be petty but he couldn’t help himself.

“Niall got a new scarf to keep himself warm tonight. How lucky was he?”

He was too mad at her to even feel bad or ashamed then, but he didn’t understand why she was smiling. She must have thought he was a joke. Well, he was. He sounded like such a loser. She would never want to date a loser.

Woah, woah, woah, where did that come from?! No relationship, remember?! What’s wrong with me today?!

“A scarf is like the most basic Christmas gift in my family,” Y/N said as they stopped at a crossroad and he finally turned to look at her, taken aback by what she'd just told him. “When you don’t know what to give someone, buy them a scarf. I didn’t know Niall that well so I got him a scarf. If it was you, I would’ve put in more effort and gotten you something meaningful.”

'If it was you, I would’ve put in more effort...'

'If it was you…'

As his brain kept replaying that same sentence over and over again, he didn’t realise how big he was smiling. But as he snapped out of it and saw the way she was smiling back at him, he felt even happier than before.

Her cheeks were flushed and her lips were a darker shade of pink because of the cold. Now that he’d paid attention to them, he couldn’t look away. If only he could just lean in and kiss her right now...

“Y/N.”

“Hmm?”

Her hand is right there. Hold her hand!

“What, Harry?”

Hold her hand, dickhead!

“You’re getting me a cooler Christmas gift, right?” he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets as the voice inside his head screamed at him, “pussy!”

Y/N didn’t suspect a thing as she gave his shoulder a nudge. “Don’t get your hopes up. But...I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Maybe? What’s that supposed to mean?”

The green light came on and the girl walked ahead, leaving him behind again.

“Wait for me! It’s cold!”

“Then walk faster and you’ll warm up!”

“I hate you!” he shouted at her. But goddamnit, he could not love her any more than this.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles writing #harry styles series #flatmate!harry #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots

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eleven-times-lively · 4 years

Text

The Aftermath

In which reader and Fred process their recent separation. 💕

Summary: You and Fred just had a major fight, and no one knows what to do next. Word Count: 1824 Note: Sorry this is so short, loves! I really wanted to get Fred and reader’s reactions alone and in the spotlight, not lumped into another chapter. So really think of this as a mini bridge between the two parts.

“I want a divorce.” The words rang over and over again in your head. Deafeningly loud, consuming every thought and emotion as you could do nothing but just stand and stare. Blank. Empty. You were numb. No tears, not a scream or cry, just consuming emptiness as you stared ahead at the spot where your husband once stood.

You went over and sat on the couch, attempting to process the fight that exploded just minutes ago. You let out a deep sigh as your face fell into your hands. You stayed there for a moment, beginning to shake. Reviewing the argument in your head brought back the emotions, but this time you were actually processing them. The tears began to stream down your face, but you weren’t sad, you were angry. Angry at yourself, angry at Fred, angry at every little thing that the two of you ignored for eleven years. Angry you hadn’t done something sooner. And now you’d lost him. You stood up with purpose, but then realised you had none. All you could manage to do was scream. At the top of your lungs. Loud, invasive, bruising. So scream you did. So many times you felt like you could explode, but it felt good. Every unspoken word, every unfelt emotion, every ignored issue, went out with each and every breath. Some screams were cut off by sobs, some thick with tears. Sometime you wanted to pick up the nearest object and throw it into the wall, sometimes you wanted to go stand outside in the snow and scream into the universe. Or maybe to let the cold consume you. Just to feel numb, like nothing matters and nothing ever will. After what felt like years, you were finally calm. Or at least some semblance of the sort. You managed to take a few deep breaths and stand still for the first time, all without crying. You wanted to find him, talk to him, make him understand. But you couldn’t. You had absolutely no idea where he was. Sure you had guesses, but it wasn’t worth the goose chase. You were both still fresh off of the argument, reasoning would have no effect. With nothing better to do, you went upstairs to bed, and for the first time in eleven years you did so without your husband. You drifted off thinking of him. How was he processing? How did he react? Where in Merlin’s name is he?

***

Fred apparated away as the tears began to stream down his face. He appeared in the middle of the field, just outside the two small shacks that held so many memories. He lightly tapped on the door of the larger one, and was met with the confused face of his brother.

“Fred?” Charlie asked, quickly noting Fred’s distraught appearance. Without having to speak Charlie immediately understood and ushered Fred inside.

The brothers were seated at the small table in the corner when Fred began to sob. “It’s over mate, it’s over.”

“Fred, what are you talking about?” Charlie asked, eyeing his brother.

“Y/n,” he choked out. “We-, We had a pretty nasty fight.” He calmed himself enough that he wasn’t hysterical, but tears continued their run down his reddened face. His brother gazed on in concern, giving Fred a moment.

“I’m sure it’ll work out mate. Though it must be pretty bad if you came all the way here.”

Fred turned to his brother, bottom lip quivering and eyes filling up again. “We are getting a divorce. We’re separated, Charlie.” Charlie's eyes widened and his mouth fell open, not quite sure what to say.

“Fred, I’m so sorry, that’s-”

“I was the one that said it. I said that we should get a divorce.”

“Oh.” Charlie stared at his brother for a moment, careful with proceeding. “Do you truly mean it?”

“I’m not sure. But… I really do think so.”

Charlie whispered a light “whoa” under his breath. “Do you want to talk it out now, or sleep it off and clear your head.”

“I think I’ll head off. It’s… been a long night.” Charlie nodded, sending Fred up the steps to the smaller second bedroom.

Charlie sighed deeply, running his hands through his hair as he ventured upstairs shortly after.

The next morning Charlie softly rapped on the door to the spare bedroom, gently pushing the door open when he got no response. He was met with an awake Fred, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling.

“Hey,” he muttered.

“Fred?” Charlie asked, walking into the room. He was meat with a half-hearted groan as a response. Charlie peered over the bed and saw the large, dark circles under Fred’s eyes. “Didn’t sleep?”

“Couldn’t.”

Charlie nodded, softly padding out of the room and downstairs, calling behind him “Tea will be ready, come down if you’d like.”

***

You slowly blinked your eyes open, taking in the light streaming through the window. You’d stayed up late last night, not entirely sure what to do with yourself, so it was now nearly eleven. You tiptoed downstairs and got your tea ready. The silence was eerie, unsettling. You were used to waking up to a smiling Fred next to you. Having him play around while you make your tea, enjoying light conversation while you drank. Now you were just alone. Even worse, you didn’t know what to do today. Should you go to the store? Yes, it’s your job, but… is it even right to be there anymore?

You were drawn out of your thoughts by a light rapping at the front door. You walked over and opened it, only to be met with the cheery visage of Molly Weasley. Fantastic.

“Hello, dear!”, she exclaimed coming inside.

“Hello, Mo- um, Mum. Can I get you tea?” You attempted to smooth out your hair and fix your appearance just a bit as you followed her into the dining room.

“Oh no thank you, love. I just came to drop something off to Freddie.” She paused for a moment, searching around. “Say, where is he? Could’ve sworn the store doesn’t open this early.”

“Oh,” you forced a laugh, “He… went in early to organise a display for a new product set to release today.”

“Fantastic! Don’t remember him mentioning a new product…” She paused a moment, trying to recall this product that, unbeknownst to her, didn’t exist. “Anywho I’ll just stop by and give it to him, then!” She started for the door when you stopped her. “Mum, no!” She turned around, startled.

“What is it, dear?” She cocked an eyebrow at you, confused.

“I-” you could feel the tears pricking at your eyes, and you silently hoped they’d go away. Unfortunately, Molly noticed.

“Y/n? Love what’s wrong?” She placed a hand on your arm, face contorting in concern. You immediately broke, and tears began to stream down your face. “Y/n?” she repeated, guiding you to sit on the couch.

“Fred and I are getting divorced,” you choked out, sobbing. This was the first time you’d said it out loud. It was real, it was happening and there was nothing you could do about it.

“Pardon? Are you serious?” She was baffled, not sure if she had heard you correctly.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Your head was in your hands as Molly tried to console you, while becoming upset herself.

“My dear why are you sorry?”

“It’s my fault. I drove him away. I’m the one that changed without him. I made the divide and drove the wedge between it.”

“Darling that isn’t true. Was it you that said you wanted the divorce?”

“It was him.”

She froze for a second, pulling back slightly. “It was Fred? Well, do you agree?”

“I don’t even know. It’s all so confusing I’m barely even sure of what day it is.” She nodded in understanding. “Part of me thinks, truly hopes, that we can just talk through this and make some changes. But a larger part of me thinks this is real.” You looked at her with your puffy, tear stained face. She looked at you with her own expression of sadness.

“Love, I’m sure everything will work out. Everything will settle how it’s intended to, no matter what that is.” She paused, “I hate to ask but do you know where Fred is?”

“No. He apparated away last night. I was hoping he went to the burrow.”

“Sorry dear. Well,” she said, standing, “If it were me, I’d go look for him. A big conversation needs to be had… sooner than later.” You stood up as well, walking her to the front door. She gave you a tight hug, holding on longer than usual. “Is there anything I can do for you, dear? Anything at all?”

“No, but thank you. I think I’ll get cleaned up and head out.” She nodded, stepping out the front door as you continued, “I need to talk to Fred.”

***

Fred slowly thudded downstairs, tripping over his own feet. He stumbled into the living room, taking a seat at the table across from Charlie.

“Morning,” Charlie tipped his mug at Fred, handing him his own. “So,” he hesitated, “How are ya?”

“I don’t even know, Charlie. I mean, so much needs to happen.” Fred paused, taking a sip of his tea. “I mean, what are we gonna tell mum? And everyone else? And,” he stopped, blinking back a tear, “the girls.”

Charlie’s mouth was pressed into a thin line, listening intently. “Why don’t you start with what actually happened last night?”

“Well,” Fred began, taking in a deep breath. “Something just changed, Charlie. We’d grown apart. I don’t even know when, cause surely it wasn’t just in the past four months. Guess we just now noticed. We grew up and became two different people. Who we are now don’t make a compatible couple, but we never had the time to adapt and make it work.m She was being a mum and I was off in my own world, and when she needed me I wasn’t there. So we were just fighting more and more until last night we… exploded.”

“Merlin,” Charlie whispered. “Do you want advice or did you just need to get that out?”

“Honestly I don’t even know anymore. Suppose some advice couldn’t hurt.”

Charlie nodded, pondering. “Well, I think you need to talk to y/n. I mean, yeah, some things were said and you were both mad, but maybe there is a return from this. I mean, over twenty years just thrown away over poor communication. Seems a bit much to me. A big conversation needs to be had, I don’t know where or how, but it needs to happen. And soon, Christmas break starts in what? Three days?”

Fred breathed in sharply. He stood up from the table, nodding at Charlie and heading for the door. “I need to talk to y/n.”

Marriage Story Taglist: @it-was-three-am @hariosborn @slytherinlovesgryffindor @dralf0yy @girl22334

#HP #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley angst #marriage story

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echoes-of-the-clockwork · 3 years

Text

Book One: Gold (Prompto x Reader) Chapter XXVIII

Three days passed after Prompto and (Y/n) were brought to Zegnautus Keep. The boy, at the command of Callyx, was now bound to a mechanical device. His body was littered with cuts and bruises, but his entire being ached. He hung his head, eyes sealed shut as another wave of pain washed over his body. The guardian enjoyed torturing the boy, a wicked smile etched across his face as he delivered hit after hit. Blood seeped from the larger gashes scattered across his body, but Callyx made doubly sure the wounds he inflicted wouldn't be any cause for concern.

The moment the cell door opened was when Prompto raised his head. The devil of a spirit walked into the cell with two soldiers by his side. They freed him from the device and grabbed both his arms, pinning them behind his back and cuffing them together. Callyx ordered them to drag him along and follow.

Prompto lifted his head as he was dragged behind Callyx by the two soldiers. He examined his surroundings, trying his best to memorize where they were going. They wandered down many hallways and corridors until coming to a stop in an observation room. Control panels with numerous of monitors were located underneath a large window that was darkened out.

One soldier unlocked his cuffs and freed him before tossing him to the floor. Prompto grunted as he landed on his hands and knees. Through the pain that engulfed his body, he managed to get to his feet. He rubbed his blistered, raw wrists while glaring over at Callyx. He watched as the guardian strolled over to one of the control panels and pressed a few buttons. The glass of the window was no longer blacked out and visibility in the room behind it was poor.

Prompto's eyes were drawn to the opposite room when the lights flickered on. What he saw caused his eyes to widen in horror and the fury he felt a few days ago to return tenfold.

Inside the rectangular room on the other side of the glass was (Y/n). Her body was pinned to the metal wall, black spikes pierced through her arms and legs. It was as if she was a butterfly pinned inside a shadow box. Blood trickled from around the spikes, trailing down her body and forming a small puddle of crimson liquid underneath her. Her head was tucked against her chest, face hidden from everyone.

Prompto dashed toward the window and slammed his fists repeatedly against the glass, crying her name out in a desperate attempt to get her attention. Callyx simply watched in amusement before chuckling. "You honesty think she can hear you? That glass is 24 millimeters thick."

Prompto tore his gaze away from (Y/n), glaring at Callyx. Before he could say anything, the guardian already had an explanation. "She's not dead, if you're wondering. Then again, you probably already know that from the gemstone. This wouldn't be any fun if she was dead." He glanced toward one of the soldiers. "You know what to do."

The soldier left the room. Prompto watched him leave before looking back at Callyx. "Why did you bring me here?"

He huffed out a groan. "Have you already forgotten? Well, I'm not surprised if I'm being honest. You're getting a front row seat to feeding time."

The boy's brows furrowed together. "Feeding time...?"

The wicked grin that haunted Prompto for the past three days spread across the spirit's face. "It's been a while since the devourer had a tasty snack. (Y/n) is next on the menu and we wouldn't want you to miss it."

Just then, the sound of a bloodcurdling scream echoed throughout the Keep. Prompto looked around in confusion while Callyx groaned in annoyance. "Those imbeciles really don't know how to handle my creation, do they...?"

Followed by the scream, the sound of a large explosion resonated throughout the area. The room shook slightly, papers falling off a table in the corner of the room. Now both men were bewildered. Callyx clicked his tongue, using the control panel to access the cameras scattered throughout Zegnautus Keep. On one of the camera feeds, he spotted a lone figure wandering the corridors of the lower level. "Dammit all..." Lifting his head, he addressed the soldiers stationed a few feet away from the door. "There's been a minor setback. Take him back to his cell."

Prompto saw no point in struggling. He allowed one trooper to cuff his wrists before being yanked out of the room. Before the door closed behind them, the boy glanced over his shoulder at (Y/n), swearing to the Astrals he would be back for her.

Back in the cell block, he hoped the soldiers would just toss him into the cell without strapping him to the strange device. However, his hopes were dashed when they shoved him towards it after undoing the cuffs. Prompto refuses to be reattached to the device and tried to fight his way out of the cell. He manage to kick one to the ground and grabbed their gun. As he aimed it at the other soldier and went to pull the trigger, the trooper was much quicker. The second soldier rammed the stock of his firearm into the back of Prompto's neck, knocking him unconscious.

•••••

"Prompto!" A nineteen-year-old (Y/n) shouted excitedly from the kitchen of the apartment. She had just returned home from her shift at the small boutique a few blocks away.

A fifteen-year-old Prompto just finished changing out of his high school uniform and into something more comfortable when hearing her call his name. He left the bedroom and headed to the kitchen. "What is it, (Y/n)?"

The (h/c)-haired girl spun around, revealing the cake she had with a smile. "Happy birthday, Prom."

The boy was in awe at the sight of the cake. "This is..."

"It's chocolate cake with buttercream frosting. I was hoping we could enjoy a slice together." She lowered the cake and placed it on the counter. "I hope it's not too much. I know you've done your best to lose weight and, well..."

Prompto glanced down at the cake. The buttercream frosting was dyed blue with a yellow chocobo on top. There were even small white clouds, making the blue appear as if it were the sky. He was shocked and didn't know what to say.

(Y/n) noticed his silence and became nervous. "Is it too childish?"

"No!" Prompto denied, turning his attention to her. "I think it's amazing, (Y/n). This is the first time we've been able to spend my birthday together without my parents. It's nice. I wish we could've done it sooner."

Her smile returned. "There's one more thing I wanna give you." She rushed down the small hallway to the bedroom and grabbed what she had hidden under the bed. She promptly returned to the kitchen and held out the present. "I've been waiting all month to give this to you."

Prompto gaped in surprise as he took the gift. "You even bought me a present?"

"Of course I did," she giggled. "Open it!"

"Shouldn't we enjoy the cake first?"

"No way! I can't wait for you to open it. We can have a slice of cake after."

Seeing how excited she was, Prompto decided to open the present. He tore off the paper, gasping when seeing what he unwrapped. He tossed the wrapping paper aside and examined the box closely. It was the camera he'd been saving up for. "Is this...the newest model?"

The guardian nodded. "Yep. You've been talking about it for the past three months and I thought it'd make the perfect birthday present."

He placed the camera box down on the counter beside the cake before stepping towards (Y/n). He wrapped his arms around her, embracing her tightly. "I love it, (Y/n). Thank you so much."

She wound her arms around his waist, returning his hug. "You're welcome, Prom." Pulling away, she peered up at his face. "Now then, let's eat some cake! I even bought some ice cream if you want some."

"There's no way I can deny a slice of cake and ice cream," he laughed. "I'll blame you for making this my cheat day."

"Blame me all you like. No one can ever deny cake and ice cream on their special day."

The two ate the cake and ice cream together. There was plenty of each left over once their bellies were full. Once they took care of the dishes, they headed into the small living room connected to the kitchen. (Y/n) laid down on the couch with Prompto laying partially on top of her. She raked her hands through his hair as his head rested against her chest. As he enjoyed her touch, he fiddled with his new camera. He admired it with stars in his eyes. "Man, I am totally gonna take some cool pictures with this camera. There's ton of space on the SD card, too!"

"Knowing you, you'll fill up the entire SD card in a month," she said. "We should look into getting you a second one just in case."

Prompto turned off his new camera, placing it in his lap. He stared up at the ceiling in silence for a couple of minutes before attempting to confess his true feelings that'd been eating at him for the past two years. "Hey, (Y/n)?"

"Yeah?" She questioned.

"What if... What if I said... Ah, never mind," he sighed, his confidence shattering. "It's nothing important."

"You can't leave me hanging like that!" She gasped.

"Can you wait a little longer?" He begged.

Smiling, she nodded. "Of course. I'll be here whenever you need me."

Prompto closed his eyes with a content sigh. "Thanks, (Y/n)."

Suddenly, the air in the apartment became cold and the lights flickered out. Prompto grunted when his body was dropped on to the sofa. "(Y/n)?" He sat up, seeing the guardian was gone. Even his camera was missing. Getting to his feet, he began searching the apartment for her. He checked the kitchen, the hallway bathroom, their shared bedroom, and the bathroom attached to it. "(Y/n)?!" He frantically searched the closet, underneath the bed, and even the fire escape. He couldn't find her anywhere.

As Prompto ran back to the living room, the apartment morphed and he found himself back in the Magitek Production Facility. He stood in a room lined with large glass cylinders. Instead of finding copies of himself, he saw the face of (Y/n) on the bodies trapped inside. Some were missing limbs while others were sickeningly disfigured, creating a horrific creature. Each glass tube had large red 'X's painted across the front. "Wh-What's going on?" He spun around in confusion. "(Y/n), where are you?!"

From the darkness, Prompto heard the clacking of heels. Turning around, he saw the (h/c)-haired guardian emerge from the shadows and step into the light radiating from the glass tubes. Her expression remained stoic as she stopped a few feet away from him. He went to approach her, but she stopped him by raising her hand. "Please, don't come any closer, Prompto."

"What's wrong, (Y/n)?" He asked with a concerned expression. "Why're we back here?"

His questions went unanswered as she gestured to the various glass tubes surrounding them. "Failure after failure, Verstael desperately tried to recreate (Y/n). After so many failures, he finally succeeded only for me to be taken by a Lucian spy alongside you. In the end, I may have been the perfect copy but to him I was another failure. Do you honestly believe we could be happy together because of our origins?"

"Where we come from doesn't matter!" Prompto wailed. "It's where we're going that counts! I don't care that you're some copy of his guardian or that I'm a copy of him! I won't be able to do anything if you're not with me!"

"Prompto," she mumbled.

He outstretched his hand towards her. "I only care about the girl who showed me love and kindness all those years in Insomnia when no one else would. It's thanks to you I was able to achieve my goals and make even more friends. I want both of us to get back together with Noct and the others and go back to all the fun we were having together. I refuse to leave you behind, (Y/n). I need you more than you know it. So please, let's go back together."

The guardian stared at his hand. She weighed her options, but her feelings for him were too strong. There was no way she'd ever leave him. She loves him too much and cherished her new friendship with Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Yes, let's go together, Prom."

Just as she was about to place her hand in his, the sound of gunfire could be heard from behind her. The invisible bullets pierced her body over and over again, blood spattering as each one hit. Prompto stared in horror as her body became riddled with bullets and her blood splattered across his body.

Once the firing ceased and the last bullet was fired, (Y/n)'s body collapsed lifeless against the ground. Prompto fell to his knees, hands shaking as he reached for her. "(Y-Y/n)..." He managed to crawl closer to her and turn her body over. He saw her eyes were open, void of life. He gasped, his attention being drawn to the bracelet around his right wrist when he heard a faint cracking sound. Looking at it, he saw the gemstone was cracked and was turning black. "No, no, no!" He pulled her cold body into his arms and tried to wake her up, ignoring the blood that was beginning to soak his being. "Please wake up, (Y/n)," he begged with tears in his eyes. He lowered his head, nudging his nose against hers. "I can't lose you..." Tears flowed from his eyes, splashing against her cheeks. He held her tightly as a guttural wail erupted from his throat. His cry fell on deaf ears as he was consumed by darkness.

•••••

Prompto awoke from his unconscious state when he felt his body fall to the floor. Opening his eyes, he saw Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis.

"Hey, you alright?" Gladio asked.

"Are you hurt? Do you need help?" Ignis inquired, unable to see the blonde's tattered state.

"I'm fine. Thank you, Noct." Through the pain, Prompto manages to sit upright and met Noctis' gaze. "Tell me. Were you worried about me?"

"Of course I was. What kind of question is that?" Noctis retorted.

"Of course. That's why you came, like I believed you would."

"Prompto..." He murmured.

"That's why I told myself I couldn't die. Not until I could see you and hear you tell me I'm not a fake—that I'm the real me."

Noctis hung his head with a sorrowful expression. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Everything's alright now." With his best friend's help, Prompto was able to stand. "I have to save (Y/n). Will you guys help me?"

"Hell yeah," Noctis smirked. "She's our friend, too."

"You seriously think we wouldn't help you save your little lady?" Gladio guffawed.

"Her comradeship has been invaluable," Ignis added. "Abandoning her is not an option."

"Thanks, guys," Prompto smiled at his friends. "I know where they're keeping her. Let's go."

Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis followed him out of the cell block and down a series of hallways until they arrived at where Callyx dragged him earlier. The door slid open and the four boys entered the room. However, the room was in complete shambles. The bodies of dead soldiers were scattered across the floor with documents strewn about. What caught his attention the most was the shattered window. He stepped over shards of glass as he headed towards the window. Peering into the connected room, he saw (Y/n) was missing. The only thing that remained was the puddle of blood.

"Thought you said she was in here," Gladio remarked. "All I see are dead bodies and broken glass."

"She was here, I swear!" Prompto shouted. "Callyx brought me here."

"Think they moved her?" Noctis asked.

"Possibly." Ignis fumbled around until he came across the control panel. He activated the monitors, which caused a lightbulb to flicker on above the marksman head as he remembered what Callyx did.

He made his way over to the control panel and remembered the buttons the guardian pushed. "I almost forgot. Callyx used this control panel to access the cameras all over this place."

The strategist was able to connect the puzzle pieces. "It's highly possible they will reveal what transpired here."

"Exactly." Prompto continues to work on the control panel until he was able to pull up the camera feed for the room they were currently in. With a few more buttons, he was able to rewind the feed. He stopped a few frames after seeing the window shatter. Playing the feed, they watched what happened hours ago.

Soldiers were doing their duties until the sound of a bloodcurdling scream came from behind the glass. All the troopers' attentions were drawn to the window as it shattered. Many of them were killed by the shards while a couple were left standing. From the broken window, (Y/n) climbed into the room and killed the two remaining soldiers. Before she left the room, she looked up at the camera to reveal not gold slits but glowing azure sclera with no iris or pupil.

Prompto stopped the rewind, eyes still glued to the screen. He wasn't sure what to say, but Noctis did. "Looks like Brahma took over. Whether that's a good or bad thing, we won't know until we find (Y/n)."

The sharpshooter was somewhat relieved but still worried. He glanced down at the gemstone to still see it was normal. "She's alive. That's all that matters. I'm sure we'll find her soon."

"Now that we know short stuff is gone, let's get the hell outta here and find a way to get your powers back," Gladio said, eyeing Noctis.

Ignis nodded in agreement. "Yes, let's."

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#ffxv #ffxv x reader #final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv x reader #prompto argentum #prompto x reader #prompto argentum x reader

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itach-i · 4 years

Text

“We’ll See” (Manorian) (Chapter 2)

_____________________________________________________________

After the war at Orynth, Manon Blackbeak and Dorian Havilliard decided that rebuilding their kingdoms would be the best course of action, leaving whatever they felt for each other up in the air. What happens when they finally make time to see each other again? (Link on ff.net)

________________________________________________________________

Spring - Chapter 1 ________________________________________________________________

Broken Glass - Chapter 2

Dorian

Dorian cringed as he realized that his constant pacing might very well cause a hole in the guest room at the Westfall Fortress. Calming himself, Dorian looked out and was disappointed to see the sun just begin to rise lazily over the mountains. Although he had been very nervous and anxious about his meeting with Manon after months apart and leaving things so up in the air, he did not expect sleep to evade him as it had.

There had been a lot of thinking done since the Witch-Queen accepted the offer to meet up in Anielle, and most of it had nothing to do with business or politics and all to do with him wanting to share meals, stories…a bed.

He even stupidly wondered if she had met someone. He knew a good number of Fae had moved to the Wastes, knew there were plenty of males and females who whispered about her beauty, even while in the middle of battle back in Orynth. There was no way she hadn't received come-ons since then, especially when she was so venerated.

His letter had been titled 'Princeling' however, and Dorian was a little ashamed to admit that he kept the thing on his nightstand, if only because his budding and confusing feelings for her had only intensified.

His magic made him turn toward the window and through the dark he could've sworn-

The boom of wings, familiar even after all these months apart made his heart skip a beat and Dorian didn't care that it was barely dawn and he looked like he had not slept since getting there, the king sped out of there like he was being chased, going out into the emptied courtyard that had been prepped for this very reason and watching, entranced, as a small adult wyvern landed on the dirt ground a few feet in front of him.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her white hair was unbound and wind-kissed, falling alluringly over her shoulders in a way that made him want to run his hands through it. The face was what really blew him away though, especially with that small smile that made his chest feel tight.

Manon Blackbeak-Crochan dropped down from her wyvern in one swift motion and watched him carefully, the smile still in place as she said, "hello, princeling."

There were a million questions he wanted to ask, a million things he wanted to tell her, but he only grinned back. "Hello, witchling," he breathed out before walking forward.

The fresh spring sunrise, even in Anielle, made her absolutely shimmer and Dorian hesitated for only a moment before he asked, "can-may we hug?"

Manon seemed to need a few seconds before she focused on what he was saying, as if she had been drinking him in too. He didn't have to wait for an answer as she went forward herself and oh, he could have melted at the hug, at the feeling of her pressed against him, the scent of winter winds and cool night air enveloping him, filling in an emptiness he hadn't even realized existed before.

Home.

That's what she felt like.

Dorian hadn't noticed how tightly he was hugging her until he felt a wiggle, and he moved away, apologies on his lips before he caught the expression on her face.

"Sorry, someone doesn't like being squished."

Confusion overtook him as Manon unbuttoned the top part of her leathers. Dorian's jaw dropped as the cutest kitten he had ever seen popped it's little white and gray head out, meowing loudly. "Oh, my Wyrd," he exclaimed as the witch took the little creature out and cradled it delicately in her hands.

"This is Nieve," she muttered.

Regaining his manhood, Dorian held back a squeal. "You got a kitten?" He asked and the face she made had him chuckling.

"I suppose I did," Manon said as the king patted the little one's head and the kitten blinked large green eyes at him. From her tone, he wondered who among Glennis, Petrah, and Brownen had managed to convince her to keep it. Maybe a mix of all three.

When Nieve meowed again, Dorian spoke. "We should go inside, just in case she gets too cold."

Manon turned to Abraxos just as a guard bowed low to both of them. "We have accommodations for your wyvern, Your Majesty."

The witch seemed surprised, and after a look of confirmation from Dorian who knew that the stable had been outfitted to fit a wyvern comfortably, she nodded to the guard. A quick goodbye to Abraxos, who sniffed at the kitten once before giving a slight nuzzle to Manon and they were inside the fortress walking along the hallway Dorian had been sprinting through only minutes before.

"Would you like to hold her?" Manon asked after a moment and Dorian tried to keep his excitement in as he nodded.

"I'm surprised you didn't bring any guards with you," he said as the kitten took one look at who was holding her and attempted to climb the new obstacle. The obstacle being Dorian's chest.

"They'll be here in a couple of hours, once they notice I'm gone."

Dorian laughed. "And I thought I was being sneaky when I left my tower two weeks ago through the window. Took my guards about an hour to notice I was gone, and the panic that spread was so intense, I haven't tried it again."

Manon huffed in amusement as she took in the barren walls and old sconces doting the hallway. "I wanted to get here first." She looked at him then, and despite having a kitten trying to climb up his head using surprisingly sharp claws, he was struck by her expression. Gods, she was beautiful.

"I'm glad you got here first," he answered sincerely. Before he got too distracted and tried to kiss her, he added, "Lord Westfall has a room prepped for you on the other side of the fortress. I can take you there if you want or…"

Unsure of where they stood, he met those burnt gold eyes and wondered how he was going to stop his heart from breaking if she decided to stay away from him, even if they were still in the same building.

"Or?" She asked.

He smiled, red tinting his cheeks. "Or you could stay with me."

They stared at each other for a moment, Dorian wondering if he had been too forward. Manon opened her mouth-

"I thought I heard a wyvern land," someone else interrupted, and it took a second for the King of Adarlan to turn his gaze.

Yrene stood before them, in a lovely spring dress that complemented her eyes and left space for her large belly. Her smile was wide as she took in Manon. "Your Majesty," she said happily as she gave a short bow in the witch's direction.

Manon raised an eyebrow as she nodded back. "Hello Yrene, you know you don't have to call me that."

Yrene just waved her off before those hazel eyes bulged. "Is that a kitten?!"

By the time they had made it to the common room, Yrene had been hissed and pawed at twice before Manon could convince the tiny cat that she wasn't an enemy wanting to take her away.

Chaol's father, Lord Westfall sat at the front of a large fireplace his son speaking to him in a low voice next to him. Dorian didn't need to use his magic to know the King's Hand was trying desperately to have his father behave in front of foreign royalty. He couldn't wait to see how the Lord of Anielle and the Witch-Queen would interact.

Chaol noticed them first and cleared his throat before lowering his head as far as his spine would allow. With Yrene's progressing pregnancy, he had less help from her magic and would need his chair more often, not that it concerned him. "Your Majesty," he greeted sternly, "welcome to Anielle. Thank you for joining us."

Dorian smiled at his friend, who gave his father a quick look as the old man spoke. "So, you're the Witch-Queen?" He paused and observed Manon closely. "I hope the title was gained through your competence and not your looks."

Chaol appeared absolutely mortified, while Yrene and Dorian shared a wide look. Manon, however, was calm as could be as she simply said, "your home is lovely."

Lord Westfall seemed unconvinced. "Yes, well, please do not interrupt the work being done here." If the old man meant the work Dorian and Chaol had been doing with the ruhkin or the fact that the man had gotten into his head that he somehow had influence over any sort of decision made by Adarlan, Dorian couldn't begin to guess.

His witchling only gave the lord a smile that would send lesser men running. "I'm sure with a king like the one you have; nothing will hinder any work you have going." Dorian could have kissed her as he held back a grin.

A sneer was her answer, but then Lord Westfall seemed to notice something, especially as it meowed several times and made Yrene scramble to keep the little one in her arms. He outright glared at Manon, and Dorian knew for a fact that the man had never encountered a witch before, or he would have been extensively more careful with what he said and did around someone who could literally skin him alive without much effort.

"Animals of any kind are not allowed within these walls. They carry and propagate diseases. I'm sure the stablemen can find a spot for the beast outside this keep."

As amusing as it was watching Chaol's father face off against Manon, there was a line being drawn here that Dorian was not a fan of letting it be crossed. "With how good the witch healers are, I'm sure Nieve carries no diseases," he informed charmingly, "and you are speaking to royalty here, Lord Westfall, I'm sure Her Majesty will keep the kitten secure."

The man only scowled before asking to be dismissed as his breakfast would be served soon and he preferred eating alone.

"Good riddance," Yrene muttered, low enough for only Manon and Dorian to hear and causing both of them to smile. When they were finally out of earshot and able to breathe better Chaol, who had followed after them, let out a breath in relief.

"Now that that's over with…breakfast?"

Even though she nodded along with Dorian and Yrene, Manon went for Nieve. "I should set her up in a room first, it's been a long trip and she's very hungry." Considering how the kitten was meowing like it truly was near starvation, Manon was wise to want to feed her.

"I think I'd be screaming just as loudly if I wasn't a human," Yrene cut in, "come love, I need chocolate."

As Chaol was dragged away in his chair, both Manon and Dorian chuckled as they overheard him say "chocolate for breakfast? I think not" followed by a low growl that made Dorian glad he wasn't at the receiving end of.

Left alone with a loud kitten, the king swallowed nervously as he faced Manon. "So-"

"Yes," she said quietly.

"What?"

"I'd like to share a room with you," Manon clarified and as he smiled, she added, "just as long as you don't mind some extra company." She lifted the kitten, who mewled like she knew they were talking about her.

Dorian bowed low, "I'd be honored." ________________________________________________________________

Manon

Her witches arrived a little earlier than she expected, and Manon wondered what Dorian was thinking when one of her two guards, a young Yellowlegs witch named Ash snarled at her for leaving without them. That spitfire attitude and her intense loyalty were the main reasons Manon herself had selected the witch from among many volunteers.

"You do know she is our queen, right? Regardless of how thoughtless some of her decisions are you should show respect."

Manon narrowed her eyes at her other guard, a Crochan witch who appeared and acted more like a Blackbeak with dark hair and eyes called Skye. Where Ash was all recklessness and fire, Skye was the calm before the storm, intelligent and logical. Brownen had introduced her to Manon not two days after their arrival at the Wastes, and she had proven herself enough that she stood here now, a soot-black wyvern in tow.

"I expected you both an hour from now," was the only thing Manon replied as the wyverns were led to the stables where Abraxos was currently staying in. "Nice job."

"A test?!" Ash demanded, enraged.

Manon only shrugged, uncaring as she faced Dorian, who was eyeing the two witches with an expression the Witch-Queen didn't want to identify. He caught himself as Skye remembered her manners. "Your Majesty," she said, bowing at Dorian. "I am Skye Crochan and this fool is Ash Yellowlegs."

The Yellowlegs scoffed, but joined in on the bow, her wild tangle of blond hair barely contained within her war braids. Dorian smiled at them both, the expression from before now gone. "It's nice to meet you both."

He met eyes with Manon, "ready for the ruhkin?"

The witch nodded, going over what he had told her as she had prepared a small pen for Nieve to stay in back in their room and after a shared breakfast of eggs, meats, and toast. The ruhkin and the wyvern eggs had been camping out near Anielle for the past few months on a nearby mountain that had a road which connected to the town below. Ideally, they would be moving to the Ferian Gap, if not to live there permanently, then to use it as a place to train both wyverns and riders until they were ready to return to Rifthold. Ruhks were also brought in, to Manon's surprise, and new hatchlings would be raised and trained next to wyverns, both to get them used to each other and form bonds.

During her time in the Wastes, Manon had taken up lessons and read books on history and culture. It had been slow to start at first, especially when her thoughts would constantly drift, but it had been worth it and when Dorian introduced her to Iaras and Nebur, a pair of sibling riders that had been chosen to lead the host in Adarlan she was at least partially acquainted with their culture and hierarchy.

The duo, who didn't particularly look like siblings apart from being of the same territory, had bowed and offered a greeting in Halha to which she responded in kind. The silence afterward had made her blink, wondering if her pronunciation had been wrong and she had said something offensive in its place.

"You speak Halha?" Iaras had asked, her voice deep and fitting for her stature, as tall or taller than Dorian even when she was a woman.

Manon had understood the question but reverted back to the common tongue. "I've only learned some of the basics. A family that had been based in Antica and fought in the war decided to make the Wastes their home with us. One of the older siblings had been a scholar and offered to tutor me every so often." For some reason, Dorian had stared at her like she was a different person, the admiration being mirrored in the siblings' faces. It made Manon fall quiet.

Nebur grinned, his ruggedly handsome face crinkling. "You honor us, Your Majesty, you seem to be as lovely as you look."

The clear suggestive tone made Manon raise an amused eyebrow as Dorian cleared his throat and Iaras shook her head. "Ignore him, Your Majesties, he is shameless. Please, let us show you how we keep the hatchlings before you decide to end this whole thing altogether."

Manon had been impressed by the resourcefulness of the ruhkin. Not only did their camp appear more like a town than a temporary garrison, the little information they got from the witches before the leave in Orynth was used to the fullest. They utilized greenhouses to simulate a warm nesting ground and positioned the few grown wyverns they had in strategic places where makeshift aeries had been made of wood and lightweight brick.

The camp itself had the tents and small buildings where hearths and living spaces were kept. A small market and school were even present in the center plaza, which consisted of a recently built stone well that served as the village center. At this altitude even the warmth of spring couldn't reach, and snow still covered most of the open areas. The cold reminded Manon of the Wastes and she wondered how exactly Dorian noticed her distraction when he had asked about her thoughts whilst in the middle of their tour.

They ended up staying for a good number of hours planning, meeting, and looking over the grown wyverns, the handful of hatchlings, and the eggs. Although Manon had very little experience with young wyverns, an Overseer back in Morath had spent a week showing her the pens within the mountains and taught her about how they figured out when and where to separate wyverns and if a hatchling was even viable to begin with.

The rukhin siblings had listened to her closely, even with Nebur's charming compliments whenever she had something to say. After sharing a lunch with a group of potential wyvern riders, Manon and Dorian finally made their way back to the forest directly next to the Westfall fortress. They had chatted excitedly the entire way, and Manon felt herself smiling more than she ever had, especially when the king seemed to be as interested in the development of the aerial legion as she had.

There was a moment, however, where Dorian stopped, and Manon felt a hint of nerves as he waited for her to stand next to him. His smile was still present, which kept her worries at bay, but the way he was looking at her made the witch reconsider their day together. She supposed there was still much to talk about, and although they were sharing a room, neither had made a move for intimacy, not that it had been easy to do with the schedule they carried.

"I know there are a lot of things right now that need our attention," he began and the way the sun reflected on his dark hair, a bit longer than she last saw him, made him look all the more beautiful. "And I also know that despite all the good news going on with our kingdoms, there is still a lot of work to be done."

Manon nodded, because he seemed to need it. Slowly, tantalizingly, Dorian lifted a hand and when he placed it on her cheek, she couldn't help but get closer, her eyes dropping to his lips. Yes, there were many things to talk about, many questions unanswered, but there had been a need building within her from the moment she saw him. She could see it in his eyes too, the want to be alone.

"I'm surprised it took you this long, princeling," she teased, her voice dropping into a purr that made his eyes flash.

Warmth began to pool in her belly as he leaned down. His hand dropped from her neck to her waist, the blatant possession breaking the fog she had been living with and replacing it with sapphire-colored starlight. He smirked as his lips brushed hers. "It's worth it, the wait for you."

Manon couldn't help herself as she initiated the kiss, closing the distance and tasting home as he responded readily, as hungry as she was. Her hands traveled up from his hips to his neck and the groan he gave her only made her want him closer. She might have said it into the kiss, because Dorian was suddenly picking her up, her legs hooking around his waist as he placed her against a tree.

Manon would have allowed him to take her right there if he wanted to, even with the cold or potentially prying eyes, but he broke the kiss and when she growled in protest he chuckled.

"As much as I would like to have you against this tree," he told her as he pressed his body against hers causing Manon to breath out. "I want to take all the time I need while I worship you."

She went for his face and kissed him again, but it was softer this time, more a promise than anything else. "We do share a room," Manon muttered and the smile he gave her made her consider just stripping off everything right there and then instead of waiting until they got to the room. ________________________________________________________________

Dorian

It was almost painful to extricate himself from her, to place the witch down and settle for holding her hand as they both hurried to the fortress. Dorian took her through the servant quarters, avoiding anyone that came close and stealing kisses as they went as if they were in one of the many romance novels he enjoyed reading.

They had time to themselves until dinner, and Dorian would make sure he spent that time wisely. As they passed the last corner that lead into their room, his mind already coming up with ways to enjoy themselves, Manon suddenly froze. So intense was her change, that Dorian's magic surged as it searched for the source of her fear. Because it was fear that was going through her as she said, "the door is open."

Thinking she could sense someone in there, Dorian used his magic to check ahead, but when he found nothing, he just looked back at her. The witch went for the door and when he followed her in, he finally understood. Although everything in the room was untouched and their things were exactly where they left them, just as the door, the small balcony screen was wide open, the chill air making the curtains rustle.

Manon dropped in front of the small pen she had so carefully prepared that morning, the blankets and toys were tossed around, but the small box filled with hay so that the kitten had a place to relieve itself in the corner was untouched. Only the food was gone, which the kitten had eaten while he and Manon had still been in the room. He remembered they had left the little one cuddled up to a stuffed toy under a blanket, warm and safe.

"We'll find her, alright?" Dorian said as he went to the balcony and prayed the kitten wasn't splattered on the cobblestone below. He rushed back into the room when he saw nothing of the sort or any evidence that the kitten had been out in the balcony at all. "She must be somewhere close."

But Manon wasn't listening and as the king stopped his searching for long enough to notice he knew Chaol had been right. She was on her knees, head tilted down, shoulders in, looking as broken and sad as she had that first night he found her in the aerie next to Abraxos back in Orynth.

His heart broke at the sight, at the thoughts that had filled his mind all day when he saw her smile and joke and wanting him. He shouldn't have let what he saw on the surface fool him. Manon wasn't fine, she was thinner, had gone ahead of her sentinels because she couldn't sleep, and although interested in what ruhkin were doing with the wyverns he had caught her losing focus and being distracted. And although she ate that morning and during lunch the portions had been meager, as if she couldn't bring herself to eat more.

Stupid of him, to ignore it all because he had been living in his own little perfect fantasy. Selfish of him too, especially because what he saw now was a witch who had been walking on glass since she left Orynth and a single wrong step would send her crashing. The kitten going missing was the breaking point.

Determination filled him as Dorian focused. He would help his witchling, and make sure he wouldn't make the same mistake again. Manon's sentinels had been left back at the camp to help with some of the grown wyverns and there had been no guards in front of their room because there had been no one in there to guard. Except for a tiny, very important, kitten. Whatever had happened, there probably hadn't been any witnesses.

So the king reached out with his magic and searched for Yrene with it, letting her know that he needed help with a brush against her own healing magic. He wouldn't leave Manon's side, even when he knew every second counted when it came to retrieving Nieve.

Both Chaol and Yrene came soon after, along with a half dozen guards, and while the healer immediately went to Manon, Dorian quickly explained to Chaol what had happened. The man nodded along with what his king said and Dorian had never loved his brother as much as he did that moment when Chaol only said, "I'll handle it, stay with her." ________________________________________________________________

Chaol

Chaol Westfall did not spend much time observing the witch or the fact that his wife was quietly trying to get Manon to lower her hands from her ears, as if the broken Witch-Queen had wanted to shut all sound out.

He turned to Dorian. "I'll handle it, stay with her."

The king thanked him, relieved, and the Hand didn't think too long on how terrified Dorian was, the concern so deeply etched in his face that Chaol feared the man was already too far down in his love for the witch to get back up.

So, he did what any friend would do. What any brother would do.

He took care of it.

With a quick motion, he ordered all the guards out of the room. Once in the hallway he sent five of the six away in search of the cat. To the last one he asked, "where's my father?"

Because nothing went on in the fortress without his father knowing and the fact that both the door and the balcony screen had been open while nothing had been taken was a clear indication that this entire thing could be internally orchestrated. Despite the letters Chaol, his mother, and brother now shared and even when his father seemed at least pleased that Chaol was about to become a father himself, the man still had plenty of problems that they still had to work on.

Hardly relying on his cane with the surge of Yrene's healing magic coursing through him, the King's Hand practically barreled through the double doors that led to his father's study on the western edge of the complex.

Lord Westfall glared daggers at him as Chaol made his way to the desk. "You may be my son, but barging in like this is-"

"Where's the cat?" Chaol cut in, his voice as sharp as the look he was receiving from his father.

Lord Westfall didn't even bother to look surprised as he asked, bitterly, "what cat?"

Knowing nightfall was approaching and also aware of how this was affecting not just Manon, but her entire kingdom, Chaol cut all corners. "You're going to listen to what I'm about to tell you and you will not, under any circumstances, interrupt me. Am I clear?"

There was pure distaste in his father's eyes, but the man said nothing as he sat back in his expensive leather chair. At least he was willing to listen.

"Manon Blackbeak not only defied and fought against her own people for the good of Erilea and the world, she aided Terassen in its call for help, saved your King on two separate occasions, risked her life multiple times, and was a key player in keeping all of us safe and alive. And because I know your memory seems to fail you in your old age, she also lost her entire family that day and she is still grieving heavily because of it."

He paused to take breath and to also allow the words to settle and permeate.

"So not only is she a new queen of a new kingdom, she also has to deal with uniting a people who had been at war for centuries, protecting her new vulnerable borders, and actively form alliances. She's here to help us, help Adarlan, when she could have refused. And she is doing all this while having lost all twelve of her sisters mere months ago. I know you heard Yrene when she spoke to me this morning on how pets can help tremendously in the grieving process. So, not only do you insult her presence here by telling her animals are not allowed but after knowing how deep her grief is you decide to be the villain and take her cat too?"

Fury danced freely in Chaol's eyes, his hand shaking as he gripped his cane so hard his knuckles were beginning to hurt. Because he knew what pain was, had watched Dorian go through it, Aelin, had experienced it himself while in the southern continent. He was done with it and he was not about to let his own father continue to propagate it.

Lord Westfall's jaw shifted, his teeth gritted, as he took his time arranging the papers on his large mahogany desk and cleared his throat.

When Chaol was about to tell him that he would do nothing to protect him if Dorian came down for a talk later, the man spoke. "I had a servant take the cat to the stables with Her Majesty's wyvern. I'm sure the two beasts are fine."

The King's Hand wasted no time, slamming the door to the study behind him as he practically ran to the stables, ignoring the stinging in his back as he did so. The wyverns all had large open wooden stables built to the north side of the fortress, on the highest elevated part of the structure, and remained free to hunt and roam in the nearby forest for game and, in Abraxos' case, to lay in the new spring flowers that bloomed even in Anielle. The issue with these stables was how cold it could get. While the wyverns enjoyed it, Chaol worried the tiny cat wouldn't be able to survive the temperature for very long.

The man had no need to worry as he spotted Abraxos curled up in the middle of the five stables, the two other wyverns that had come with the witches were busy snoozing closer to the tree line. Unused to being so close to Abraxos, and mindful that his rider wasn't here, Chaol kept his distance as the scarred head turned to him.

"Um, hello Abraxos."

Did wyverns understand? What kind of commands did this ancient animal even know?

"Is the kitten-is Nieve with you?" Please just let the kitten be alive, please.

Impossibly, Abraxos perked at the sound of the cat's name and the wyvern carefully lifted its spread wing to reveal a tiny little bundle curled up against the scale-less stomach. Alive, breathing, and meowing loudly as it spotted Chaol watching even from the relative distance.

"Okay, don't eat me, I just want to take the cat back to Manon, okay?" He told Abraxos, feeling dumb the entire time. "I'm taking Nieve to Manon," he repeated slowly.

That large tail started moving, and Chaol swore the wyvern was watching him in amusement as the man inched forward until he was practically within the stable. Heart beating fast, Chaol muttered about the many ways Dorian would repay him as he took the kitten and backed away like Abraxos might reconsider and take a chunk out of him. ________________________________________________________________

Dorian

It felt like an eternity since Chaol had left with the guards and when he came back. Dorian had felt utterly powerless as Manon had succumbed further into a spiral, looking for all intents and purposes utterly defeated. Not even Yrene's whispers of comfort got through her, and although Dorian wanted to help, he had no idea of what to say, because he recognized the look in her glazed eyes. He had experienced something similar when he lost Sorscha, when he had been trapped by the Wyrdstone collar, a Valg prince inside him.

He had been softly stroking her hair when Chaol rushed in, breathing heavily and leaning into his cane while in his free hand-

Yrene stood up with an 'oh!,' before taking the kitten, tears already forming in her eyes as she went back to Manon and Dorian. The latter spoke. "Nieve's right here, Manon. She's fine and safe. Chaol found her."

Recognizing the witch, the kitten positively screamed, fighting against Yrene and dropping into Manon's waiting hands. As if a veil had been lifted, that beautiful face regained motion and Dorian felt emotion rise within him as he watched her lift the purring kitten and take her close to her chest.

She looked behind them, to Chaol, who was still catching his breath. "Thank you."

Even Dorian smiled at the redness in his Hand's cheeks as the man bowed. "Anytime, Your Majesty." ________________________________________________________________

*'Nieve' is Spanish for 'snow' and is pronounced knee-eh-veh. Within tog the cat isn't a specific breed, but for the sake of how I imagine her, Nieve is a white and gray Siberian Cat, so she's going to grow quite big and fluffy.

Tags: @rufousnmacska (my lovely beta), @awesomelena555, @bookishwitchling If you’d like to be included in the tags, please let me know!

Thank you! My other Manorian fics.

#manorian #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #tog #manon x dorian #chaorene #I miss my cats and that's probably why I gave her a cat

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oncexinxmyxdreams · 3 years

Text

A Christmas Memory

This was a different Christmas Eve from all the past ones. Most of them had been without his father and it got worse after his mother passed away. Last year had been a new direction; learning to appreciate what he did have even if those bitter feelings tried to sneak upon him. Indeed, Peter wouldn’t forget Christmas of 1984 with it being the first one as a Ghostbuster. This one had gone unexpected. If someone had told Peter that’d his guilty conscience would convince him to fly over to Kokomo, Indiana and spend it with the illegitimate child he’d never known of until three months ago, he’d thought that person was insane. He’d even give a snarky comment to boot.

That was running through Peter’s mind as he leaned back on the couch in the cozy living room. After Ruth had encouraged him to not be formal and kick his shoes off, he’d finally hunkered down. He partially dug his socked feet between the cushions and stared out the window. Snowflakes dusted the pane, but he could see the warm glow of lights outside. He was trying to think over things, maybe face the emotions he’d shoved far back when meeting Ruth and Laurie. One of them about Claire and knowing she was sadly gone. Every time he remembered it, he felt a horrible and sickening chill in his heart.

“You alright dear?” asked Ruth. She was putting another log into the fireplace.

“I’m okay,” Peter answered with a small head turn and polite smile.

“Ruth!” came the barking demand of Arnold from upstairs. “Ruth! Where’s my damn bottle opener?”

“You left it on the TV tray!” Ruth called up.

“Then bring it up woman! Do I have to do everything around this old shack?!”

With a sigh, Ruth picked up the bottle opener which had been left on an old TV tray in front of a rugged chair. It seemed like she wanted to converse with Peter, but her husband’s demands had to distract her. Arnold apparently had a tradition to have a couple of beers while watching the TV and would stumble off to his room with the newspaper. Not long after he settled down, he’d be demanding for another beer or like this time for the bottle opener. Peter wasn’t against having a beer himself, but he was disgusted by how Arnold behaved. There was no way he’d ever speak to a woman like that and he knew his limit before he got tipsy. Arnold didn’t seem to have any nice words to his wife. He didn’t even have a nice word to say about his grandchild! It wasn’t long before Peter could hear Arnold and Ruth debating over something. Thankfully, the radio was a bit louder and played classic carols.

“Sorry that man has to be your dad Claire,” Peter thought. “No wonder you had a hard time finding kind words about him.” Peter couldn’t forget when he and Claire were just friends and they opened about their lives. Revealing how she quit dance because of how hard he pushed her with little regard of her wellbeing had been shocking to hear. It was quite another to witness how Arnold was in person. Peter was right three years before telling Claire that they both got the short end of the stick when it came to families.

Now that he thought about, what happened for that Christmas? Peter remembered that he didn’t really spend Christmas with Claire that one year. She’d gone back to Kokomo for a week. She’d asked Peter to come with her, but he kept turning it down. It wasn’t only because of this negativity to the holiday, but it was his last year at Columbia University. It’d been exhausting from strenuous finals and tedious term papers. Peter spent half of Christmas catching up on sleep.

Not that he and Claire didn’t do something for the holidays. The day before she left, they went on a sweet date and exchanged gifts. She’d gotten him a new bomber jacket. Peter found her a pretty nightgown. He would’ve gotten her something more extravagant if it hadn’t been for Claire reminding him, she didn’t want anything. It’d taken Peter weeks to get an answer, but Claire finally admitted a new pair of pajamas was fine. She told him that with a little eyeroll and playful grin. Then again, that was Claire. She didn’t ask for things and was easily happy with what she already owned.

They didn’t see each other again until Peter came to meet her at the airport as planned on December 27th…at 1:00 a.m. because of Claire’s overly delayed flight. Despite the icy weather and painfully early morning, neither of them felt fatigued. They overwhelmed each other with a strong hug-where Peter practically lifted her off the ground- and deep kissing. It went on with Claire “insisting” it was too late for him to go back to his dorm and Peter “insisting” she wasn’t going back to her apartment alone. What happened then? If Peter told anyone he would’ve left out the details, but he would’ve hinted that whatever happened was more than twice. “Another round” as Claire suggested for the term. It'd been weeks since their last round together so there was pent up energy for each other. Combining that along with the late prescription update on Claire’s birth control pill for her polycystic ovary syndrome, maybe it wasn’t a surprise Laurie existed.

“Figures,” sighed Peter. He was back to his core struggle: he was now a dad and he didn’t want to be.

It wasn’t that he hated Laurie. Of course not! That was the issue: Peter didn’t know how to feel about her. He was told that when a parent first sees their child, they instantly love them. He didn’t feel that at all! She was a stranger to him. Peter hated imagining what Ray, Winston, Janine or Egon would say if he was honest about it. He’d have to keep that secret to himself. He’d have to keep digging through the graveyard of emotions.

He’d never really desired to get married or have a family of his own. He’d loved Claire and had serious relationships before, but even then, he couldn’t imagine anything further down the road. Besides, even though babies and kids were cute, they were a chore. Kids whined and threw tantrums. Babies cried, needed diapers changed and were always spitting up. He wouldn’t say he was the best with kids in general either. He still felt a pinch of guilt with what happened to Kenny Fenderman back in late spring. Yet whether he liked it or not, he was a dad.

“Ruth said I don’t have to be involved unless I want to,” he reminded himself. “Even Claire wrote in her journals she wouldn’t force me.” It was true. Even Arnold didn’t want Peter around, but that was due to his crass comments about Claire having slept with Peter. “So why am I here?” Peter asked himself again.

There was an answer to all this; there had to be. Somewhere buried deep down was the reason he reluctantly came out to Indiana. Even with being a psychologist, Peter sometimes had to deeply analyze himself.

Right on cue, he felt one of the cushions move and was distracted. It was Laurie. She dropped a thick book on the couch and then crawled up. She was still dressed pretty in her little red velvet dress; black mary jane’s and white tights. Seemed like it was staple to her wardrobe along with her still having a pacifier. She crawled upon the couch and wobbled over to Peter. Reflexively he held a hand up to balance her as she nearly stumbled, but she caught hold of his drawn-up knees. Her deep cornflower blue eyes sparkled, and he could see the creases of her smile behind her pacifier.

“You trying to get away from the noise?” he said half-heartedly to her. When she looked puzzled, Peter gestured up to the ceiling where he could still hear faint arguing. She only copied him and grinned. Then she pointed at the window where the snow was falling at a quicker pace.

“Sho,” she said with her muffled voice. “Sho.”

“You’ve got a mouthful there Ankle Biter,” Peter snickered. “Take that out of your mouth.” He gently pried the pacifier from her lips. Cleary not bothered; Laurie spoke again. “Sho. Pwetty.” She looked past him and pointed to the side table behind him. “Mama pwetty,” she added.

Peter glanced over his shoulder to the picture frame sitting on the edge. It was hard for him to see that beautiful face. Laurie tried crawling around him to reach for the frame, but nearly squished herself between Peter and the cushions. Hesitating, he twisted around to get it.

“You want this?” he said kindly as he handed it to her. Laurie still stood up and held the frame. She looked almost sad. It was a picture of Claire from last Christmas. She was sitting in front of the tree with Laurie in her lap. From what anyone could guess, the little girl knew Claire wasn’t coming back, but she didn’t understand why.

“Mama,” Laurie repeated. Her tiny hand patted the picture. “Mama go.”

“Yeah, she’s gone,” Peter empathized. “My mama’s gone too.”

Laurie looked at him in such an odd way that Peter second guessed if she understood him. What she did next left him stunned. She crawled onto Peter’s lap and buried her face into his neck. Her little arms wrapped around him the best she could. Her hair was strong of her shampoo which smelled like cherry soda. After a pause, Peter gingerly wrapped one arm around her little figure. Laurie twisted around so she could look out the window but nuzzled her head under Peter’s chin.

“Sto-ee?” she asked.

“Story? Okay. What’s the book you brought?” Peter sensed if he flat out refused, Laurie may throw a fit. “You’ve got a real sense of humor,” he sighed when he realized what she brought. Of course, Laurie had brought up her copy of Peter Rabbit. (Laurie's book was a treasury of Beatrix Potter's stories.) He probably could’ve just recited the story since his mother used to read it to him when he was Laurie’s age. He read the familiar beginning:

“Once upon a time there were four little rabbits, and their names were-Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail and Peter.”

The story continued exactly from what Peter could recall. Mrs. Rabbit told her children to not enter Mr. McGregor’s garden, but Peter Rabbit disobeyed, and he ate some vegetables in the garden: Mr. McGregor tried to catch him, and Peter Rabbit got lost in the garden: Peter Rabbit finally got out and was put to bed while his siblings had bread, milk and blackberries for supper.

“What a shock its still the same after twenty years,” Peter said cynically.

“Mice,” said Laurie. “Sto-ee of mice. Pwease!”

Peter bit his lip. Those pleading blue eyes gazed up to him and Laurie pouted. Cute kid, but she was clever enough to pull on heartstrings. Even her conflicted father couldn’t say no to her face.

“What story of the mice?” Peter quickly flipped a couple of pages to find the story. He couldn’t remember any Beatrix Potter works that were only about mice. Much to his surprise, he found a page with a mouse wearing glasses and sitting on a spool of thread while reading a newspaper. The story? The Tailor of Gloucester.

“That one,” Laurie announced.

Despite feeling a little tired, Peter continued reading. He found that he kind of liked reading to Laurie. Not to mention, he liked the new tale. It was centered around Christmas and a poor tailor was trying to finish a coat for a mayor’s wedding day. What fascinated Peter most was when the tailor’s cat went outside at night: there was something about the atmosphere that was so magical it almost seemed believable. At least, believable after being a ghostbuster for almost two years. According to Beatrix Potter, between Christmas Eve and Christmas morning, all the beasts could talk though very few could understand them. Birds, rats, dogs, mice and even the cat spoke.

While Peter was reading, Laurie’s eyelids drooped, and her eyelashes fluttered when she tried to stay awake. She was warm, comfy and best of all, safe while snuggled against Peter. The moment the last sentence was read, Laurie was asleep. Her breathing was gentle, and her tiny fingers unclenched. She looked so peaceful and sweet that Peter didn’t want to move. Instead, he glanced back out the window and tried analyzing his thoughts again.

“I used to sit with Mom like this,” Peter recalled to himself. “I know Mom couldn’t afford a lot, but I know she tried.” The very few Christmas memories he had included his mother, Lydia Venkman, sitting on the sofa with him while the TV blared the cheerful specials or when they watched the stars. She’d bake gingersnaps with maple icing and got a small tree for them. Best of all, she’d play in the snow with Peter, even start a snowball fight. At that young age, Peter didn’t know any other mother that played in the snow with her kids like his mom. All memories reminded him how much he missed her.

“Of all the times I could use your advice Mom, it’d be right now,” he sadly thought.

Despite how tough his childhood had been, his mom had been the warmest and brightest light in his dark world. When she passed from pneumonia, the light was extinguished. It wasn’t until the friendship of Egon and Ray that helped brighten things again. Claire, being one of his most steady girlfriends, brought more. Then Winston and Janine helped shape the rest. There wasn’t any need to add a daughter into the mix. No, that wasn’t fair. Laurie was in a similar position having lost her mom and now, she’d have to grow up with her dad far away…

Peter eyed the little girl again. He swallowed.

“No. I can’t let that happen.”

He wouldn’t see her every day, but she didn’t need to have a darkened world like he did. She could have those warm lights from Ruth, the neighbors, the ghosbusters and from him. Peter didn’t know and there was still plenty to evaluate, but at least he could commit to that.

The next thing Peter knew was that he’d awake that next morning, Christmas day, still on the couch. Laurie would still be cuddled against him. He didn’t know yet it’d be one of Laurie’s favorite memories when she got older, let alone the first memory she remembered was when she first met her dad.

#the real ghostbusters #peter venkman #laurie venkman #fanfic #fanfiction #Peter's got a long way to go but he's starting somewhere with being a dad #RGB: A Christmas Memory #rgb fic

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pangtasias-atelier · 4 years

Note

I’d like to request a dabble of Hinata getting buff. Mainly in the arms and pecs. Hinata enjoys it at first, fighting and Hilton ladies. but he, Takumi, and mCorrin try to figure out how to stop it once he continues to grow, his growing giant pecs threatens to cover both Hoshido and Nohr under them. His clothes still intact while trying to be optimistic. Takumi and Corrin may grow as well if you’d like

The first of the last nine requests! It feels weird counting down from nine rather then ten lol. But oh well.

I’m really happy with how this one came out ajsjsdn The 2k words that this is went by decently fast despite me getting distracted for like a total of an hour on this. And I changed it a bit from the outline I posted to make it a more to what you asked for. And a bit less crack I feel?

This size is so far the furthest I’m willing to write muscle growith. Aka, room sized. (That’s how I am with weight gain too though. *it’s equality .gif*)

Admittedly, I am sad that this is the request that came out super long. Not cause I didn’t enjoy it, I had fun writing this, but because I know the notes will be pretty low since it’s muscle growth...

But, regardless, I hope you enjoy it and thank you for your patience!

____________________________

“Hey~” Inching his way closer, Hinata stands beside the unsuspecting retainer.

Her intense gaze concentrating on the lithe spear master, her eyes roam and caress each jab he throws at his opponent. The spear fighter so intently focused, his thin shirt is lightly soaked in sweat, the fabric clinging to his collarbone. The current round the semifinals, his current opponent is a basara, his club missing each and every swing.

A shadow looming over her, her eyes widen at the behemoth of a man standing beside her.

“Hey, there,” Hinata flashes his traditional show-winning grin at her. “I couldn’t help but notice-”

“We have a winner!” The announcer shouts, the area filled with cheers and boos alike. “Our young Moro advances on to the finals, will he survive another round and claim victory in his first ever tournament, or will he…”

Hinata ignores the rest of the announcer’s drawn out spheal, the flowery nonsense unimportant to him. His current prospective date continues staring out at the arena, both fights congratulating each other, her face furrowed, she faces away from Hinata. Her posture straight, she clasps her hands in front of her.

Hinata clears his throat. His tournament uniform’s sleeve audibly tears from his bicep, Hinata hiding his grin. “As I was saying, I think-”

“Takumi,” Voice direct and commanding as ever, Hinata stands up straight.

“Yes, Lord Takumi!” Having to crane his neck down, Hinata can barely see his lord over his own chest.

“From one retainer to another, I don’t wish to interrupt a conversation with your lord, goodbye,” Bowing to Takumi, she scurries off in the direction of Moro.

Hinata grumbles to himself. Frowning, he immediately wipes it off his face as he spots Takumi’s frown.

“You’re enjoying yourself,” Placing a hand to his hip, Takumi rests his weight on his opposite foot. Tapping his foot, he looks up at Hinata. “I thought we were supposed to find a way to end this,” Gesturing towards Hinata, Takumi shakes his head.

“I’m no good at that magic stuff,” Some of his fans passing by, Hinata gets down on one knee and brings both of his fists down together in a circle. Flexing, he grins and looks directly at them. Takumi scoffs as they giggle and rush off, clearly enamored but embarrassed at the bold displays of Hinata. “I thought you and Corrin were on the case,”

“We are,” Takumi grits his teeth. “But-”

“Hinata!” His elder brother interrupting, Corrin tackles Hinata. Hinata at the ready, he easily catches Corrin. Embracing him in a crushing hug, he spins him around; Corrin’s hands and face cling to Hinata’s meaty pecs, each alone larger than Corrin’s head. Hinata lets him down after a couple spins, Corrin eagerly laughing. “We haven’t been able to find a cure,” Corrin crouches down, picking at Hinata’s cotton pants. His thighs caressed by the fabric, the pair had been made by Oboro a week ago. A hand smacking the back of his head, Corrin jumps up. “Yet. I’m still working on it,”

“Well, it has been a month since this growth started, but I’m counting on you two,” His response half-hearted, Hinata offers a thumbs up to the two royals. The growth spurt coming out of nowhere, the growth had been labeled a curse by the royal healers and mages, none finding a cure to reverse it. No cure, Takumi had taken up to finding a cure for his retainer, Takumi forcing Corrin along for the ride.

Takumi shakes his hand, glaring at Corrin. “Your head would be as hard as metal with how dense you are,” Takumi catches the announcer speaking up once more. The finals starting, Takumi pushes Hinata. “Enjoy this while it lasts, you better not lose and make me look bad,”

“I wouldn’t ever dream it, lord Takumi!”

“Good luck! Not that you’ll need it,” Corrin cheers, jumping up and down.

Takumi tosses Corrin a glance, briefly considering tripping him. Ryoma obviously going to lecture the two of them for such a display in public, Takumi grumbles, returning to his private seat, Corrin following him.

The two seated, Corrin eagerly watches with baited breath, his hands digging into his knees as he leans out of his chair. Takumi sitting back in his chair, his legs are crossed. Takumi rests his head in his palm.

Hinata towering over his opponent, his massive jugs for pecs light dig into his chin, his pecs a testament to his monstrous, powerful size. His biceps larger than any human’s head, the pack of muscles lining his beefy arms seem reminiscent of balls more than anything, so much muscle densely packed and condensed. His broad shoulders widened to accommodate such a high amount of mass, his wingspan is exaggerated, Hinata wide. His powerful backside carved and jagged like a mountain, his shoulder blades jut out. His torso half covered by his gigantic chest, the other half is lined with bulging abs, his sides filled with riblets as well. His thighs not spared as well, each one alone is wider than any axe wielder's chest. Each spectacularly wide, they exaggeratedly stick out, Hinata a caricature of an hourglass figure. So packed and caked with muscle, Corrin had even begun helping Hinata out with magic to help lessen the chafing of his thighs alongside helping the massive pendulous weight of his chest. His ass enjoying his recent spurt of growth as well, they spread his pants in the opposite ends, a perfectly spherical bubble butt jutting out. His ass and back plus his thighs and chest help contribute to Hinata’s S shape for a body with his muscular torso still nipped.

Moro standing opposite of Hinata, his own trim form seems laughable to Hinata’s, the tournament a slaughter in the wake of Hinata. Moro simply readies his wooden naginata, pointing it towards Hinata as he readies his stance.

Hinata’s wooden katana is nothing but a toy at his size, the sword comparable to that of a twig in his hands. The round starting, Hinata takes a swing. His bulging arm heavy, the powerful yet slow swing easily misses the quick Moro. Moro jabs his naginata in Hinata’s torso, the wood not felt by Hinata. Grinning Hinata stomps the floor. So much muscle packed in his frame, his staggering weight causes the ground to shake. Moro losing his footing, Hinata takes a swing at him.

The wooden katana connecting, the single swing is all Hinata needs, his staggering strength knocking Moro to the edge of the arena, his back colliding against the wall. Taking a shaky breath, Moro curses under his breath before collapsing.

“Hah! I win again!” Dropping his sword, Hinata faces the cheering crowd. Raising both arms, Hinata begins flexing, performing various poses. Hinata doesn’t notice both Takumi and Corrin, too busy basking in the attention of his sheer size.

Corrin on the edge of his seat, he claps his hands as his eyes never once leave Hinata’s body. A hand digging into his collar, Corrin stands up as Takumi tugs at him. Following Takumi, Corrin continues to keep his eyes on Hinata until Takumi drags him into a wall, Corrin rubbing his face.

“We’re going to search some more,” Takumi forcing Corrin in front, he glares at him. Offering a glance at Hinata, Takumi merely furrows his brow at Corrin.

Takumi and Corrin sticking to their research, their extensive time spent ends up fruitless, neither of them discovering even an inkling of a trail as to what could be causing Hinata to grow. More days passing by, both of them continue with no lead, the rest of the palace staff puzzled.

Corrin in his room, he closes the spell book. The book the very reason for Hinata’s growth, Corrin places it in his nightstand. A secret compartment known only to him, the extra slot is perfect. Takumi searching Corrin’s room in his suspicions of his brother making his retainer grow had thankfully left Takumi empty handed and Corrin with an apology. The book also containing the spell to end Hinata’s spell and return him to his normal size, along with a multitude of other spells Corrin dreamed of trying on the other men, Hinata’s current issue could’ve been solved long ago. Humming to himself, Corrin bounces to Hinata’s room, hurriedly making his way. Hands behind his back, his fangs glisten with his smile. The route to Hinata’s room memorized, Corrin easily finds his way, entering without knocking. His grin widens as he spots Hinata. Hinata once taking his growth in stride, his ever increasing size had diminished some of his initial cheer. Powerful arms and chest soon became nothing more than a trophy. So much muscle densely packed in Hinata’s frame, even his growing height was unable to fully prevent Hinata’s size from becoming useless. Resting on his bed, the mattress serves no purpose, the mattress just for show. His back against the wall, Hinata’s head still surpasses Takumi’s and Corrin’s height, both of them standing to Hinata’s sitting. His chest absolutely massive, each single pec is larger than the average sized Hoshidan. So much weight on his back, Takumi had devised a pulley system for Hinata’s chest. Far too big for clothes, a pulley connected to the ceiling holds up Hinata’s chests, the monumental pecs otherwise digging into his thighs. Instead, they dig into Hinata’s chiseled chin, his face partially obstructed. His arms lay uselessly to the side of Hinata, both of them unable to move with so much muscle rubbing up against each other. His legs longer than the mattress, his legs rest partially on the floor, Hinata barely able to move them as well. Corrin making Hinata’s clothes grow as well, dressing the immoble muscle man was difficult but enjoyable work. His pants no longer baggy, they dig into his thighs and ass, Hinata’s thighs wider than his mattress. The once roomy purple fabric instead offers no space, Hinata’s chest even stretching the fabric just near the ripping point, perfect for Corrin’s pleasure. Hinata’s abs are hidden, Corrin often taking a peak and lifting Hinata’s clothes. Hinata’s biceps are as exposed as ever.

Takumi announcing Corrin’s presence, Hinata smiles. Instinctively raising his arm to wave, he grunts as he tries to lift it. Veins bulging, Hinata;s grunt remains just so, his arm not moving. “Hey Corrin,” Hinata greets, his eyes staring at his chest, unable to stare at anything else anymore. “Did you find a cure yet?” Chipper attitude maintained, even that facade is breaking, Hinata’s voice higher than usual.

Corrin shakes his head, feigning a sigh. “Not yet, I just wanted to check on you,” Carefully stepping past, Hinata’s legs, Corrin takes his usual spot on Hinata’s lap. Facing Hinata’s torso, Corrin rests his head against Hinata’s mounds for pecs. Arms lazing beside him, he lifts them up, feeling up Hinata’s pecs and biceps. Hinata immobile from so much muscle and with only Takumi and himself visiting him, Hinata is effectively his own huge muscular toy.

“Then you should be searching some more instead of doing whatever it is you’re doing,” Takumi seated at the desk, the lone piece of furniture in the room besides Hinata’s mattress, he scours his stack of books he brought from the palace’s library. Sighing, he closes his book, the last of his stack proving useless.

“I’m sure we'll find a cure soon,” Hinata reasons, letting out little huffs of air as Corrin continues his rubbing.

“We better,” Takumi stands up from his seat. Making his way to Hinata, he rests against Hinata’s side, draping Hinata’s bulging arm around him. “At the very least, each spell has its limit,no magic is potent enough to go much longer. Soon, the effects will end and then we won’t have to worry about you getting bigger,” Takumi closes his eyes, sleep taking him.

Corrin hides his grin, Takumi unaware of just how potent his draconic magic is. And of just how far he’s willing to make Hinata grow.

#My writing #buff emblem #buff!hinata #male muscle growth #muscle fiction #immobility

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lovemesomerafael · 4 years

Text

It’s Complicated Surprise Party

Source: @barbaoutfits

It’s Complicated - Full Story Read it on AO3

I like these guys, and I wanted to revisit them. So this is kind of a check-in to see how they’re doing.

Francisca: Will you make huevos rancheros for dinner? I can’t stop thinking about them.

Barba: What’s in it for me?

Francisca: The love of your wife.

Barba: I already have that.

Francisca: You want more. You can’t get enough of me.

Barba: I thought you said I already have all of you? Wasn’t that in our vows?

Francisca: Please, Barba, I’m dying for huevos rancheros. Don’t make me call your Mami and tell her you won’t make them for me.

Barba: You are terribly spoiled.

Francisca: By you. Is that a yes?

Barba: Yes, but you owe me.

Francisca: Someday I will ask you for a favor and you will just say yes without putting me through all this. I love you, even though I know better.

Barba: I know you do. Send me a pic of you. I miss you.

Frankie responded by sending Rafael a selfie in which she was pretending to look thoughtful and holding a piece of paper over her head. She’d drawn a thought bubble on the paper that said, “How can he be so irresistible and so annoying at the same time?”

Barba: That’s not annoyance. It’s arousal. You keep making that mistake. I’ll satisfy your voracious demands later. Again.

Francisca: 😊 But AFTER huevos rancheros.

Barba: See? Voracious demands. The People rest.

“Mmmmmmmm… This is so good. Your huevos rancheros make it worthwhile to put up with you.”

“Your compliments need some work, mi fresa[1],” Rafael said, smirking with one side of his mouth. Frankie wanted to kiss him, but could only smile at him as best she could with her mouth full.

She finished the last bite, and Rafael stood up to clear the table.

“You don’t have to do that, amado[2]. You cooked. And thank you again for that.” Frankie stood and took the rest of the dishes from the table, carrying them across the kitchen to the sink.

“I will be so glad when this work is done,” Rafael complained, again, indicating the plastic that still shrouded much of the kitchen and the empty walls where the cupboards should be.

“You’re the one who had to have the custom cabinets. It could’ve been done weeks ago.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Rafael and Francisca had been all but inseparable since they had admitted their love for each other. Of course, that didn’t mean they never argued after that night. They argued all the time. But anyone who knew them could see what that was about.

For the sake of prudence, they had waited six months before officially moving in together, but neither of them had any doubts about their relationship. They knew it was forever. Six months later, on bended knee under trees filled with twinkle lights in a rooftop garden, Rafael asked Frankie to marry him. She tearfully and enthusiastically agreed, after which they spent the next two months joyfully squabbling about when and where to have the ceremony. In the end, they were married in a tiny adobe mission church near Frankie’s family’s ranch in Austin, Texas. Although that had been Rafael’s favorite idea all along, he hadn’t agreed right away. What would be the fun of that?

As soon as they’d returned from their honeymoon trip to Cuba, they’d started looking for a place to make their permanent home. It had taken several months to find a building they both liked, but they’d enjoyed the search. What neither of them enjoyed was the construction process. Their condo space was great and in the neighborhood they’d wanted. They were lucky to have found it and jumped on it before someone else did. But that was the good news. The bad news was that everything else about the apartment had to go. They’d had to gut the space and start over. It was a nightmare trying to maintain demanding careers, keep on top of the construction work, and deal with two apartments, but eventually the condo had been finished enough to move in while the construction was completed. Rafael often wished they hadn’t. It was nice to be done paying for two apartments, but he was tired of dodging tools and boxes, dealing with construction schedules, and smelling paint fumes.

“I have an idea,” he said as he handed Frankie the last plate to dry.

“Get the damn dishwasher installed already?”

“Close. What if we go to a hotel this weekend? Get away from sawdust and plastic for a couple days?”

“Really? That would be delightful!” Frankie smiled, setting the plate into a crate on the floor of what would, at some point, be the pantry. She stepped around a box of leftover strips of the hardwood flooring that had just been installed, and put her arms around him. “Barba,” she said, kissing him, “You are as smart as you are hot.”

Rafael kissed her back, glad he’d suggested it. After taking their time enjoying slow, deep kisses, they relaxed into a tight hug. Rafael felt and heard Frankie yawn deeply.

“Really? Bored with kissing me already?”

Frankie laughed against his neck. “Not on your life. Just exhausted.”

“It’s early. Rough day?”

“Not particularly. But I’m sleepy.”

“Is this a ruse to get me into bed?”

“Will it work if it is?” Frankie looked up into his deep green eyes, feeling the same swooping feeling in her lower abdomen she always did when he looked at her like that.

He answered by kissing her again, this time with a little more heat. “C’mon, Mrs. Barba. Let’s go do naked married things.”

“That’s Dr. Barba to you, pal.” Frankie took Rafael’s hand and led him into their bedroom.

“Want to take a quick shower with me?” He asked, then added with a grin, “I’ll wash your back.”

“Mmmmmm, I think I’ll just ogle you while you undress and wait for you in bed.”

They undressed in the walk-in closet Frankie had designed, playfully providing unnecessary help to each other until neither had any clothes left on. Frankie pulled a short, light nightgown from a hanger and slid it over her head with a smug smile while Rafael grinned and shook his head. This was an old argument. She always put on nightgowns or pajamas, and he always took them back off. At first, he’d teased her about the futility of wearing anything to bed, and she had argued that she liked nightwear and he liked taking it off of her. She was absolutely right, of course, so now they simply exchanged amused looks.

Frankie followed Rafael into the bathroom, where she washed her face and brushed her teeth while he headed into the shower. They’d been in the apartment for such a short time that he still spent time looking around at the master bathroom whenever he went in, admiring the functional but beautiful room they’d created together. This was one place they’d splurged, and it had been the right decision. The walk-in shower was made of textured stone tile that felt warm under his feet as Rafael walked in to turn on the water as hot as he could stand it. The spray from the overhead rainfall showerhead, which they’d chosen because it was better for showering together, felt wonderful pouring down on him.

He hummed to himself as he showered, continuing as he toweled his hair and dried off. He quickly brushed his teeth, then headed to the bedroom, flicking off lights as he went until the only light in the room was the lamp on his bedside table. “Did you miss me?”

Frankie, lying on her back with her head turned slightly away from Rafael’s side of the bed, didn’t respond.

“Francisca?”

She was sound asleep.

“Francisca?” He tried again, but more quietly. He sighed, kissed her softly, and rolled over to pick up the book he’d been reading. He was going to be disappointed tonight, apparently. He could have awakened her, but she’d said she was tired, so he let her sleep. He also thought she might wake up after a bit of a nap, refreshed and in the mood for love. Unfortunately, she slept soundly through the night.

Although the next day was a Tuesday, and therefore a workday, Frankie and Rafael had taken a few hours off in the early afternoon to meet with the contractor. Normally, one of them could have handled such a meeting, but there were a number of issues, and there might be some decisions to make which would take both of them. In addition, after a particularly frustrating meeting between Frankie and the contractor, she preferred that both of them be there. The contractor was very highly recommended and was doing an impeccable job, but he was clearly of the opinion that a penis was a necessary element to a final decision. Annoying as that was, Frankie wasn’t going to change the contractor’s prehistoric prejudices, so she figured it was just easier to let Barba deal with him. It was also fun to watch how easily Rafael handled him whenever there was any dissent.

They met for lunch before the meeting, where Rafael gently teased Frankie about falling asleep early the night before. She was a little embarrassed and felt bad about disappointing him, and promised to make it up to him. She had a hard time choosing what to order for lunch. What she wanted, she said, was huevos rancheros.

“Really? You didn’t get enough last night?”

“I know! It’s ridiculous, but that just sounds so good right now. I blame you. If you didn’t make such amazing huevos rancheros...”

“I take full responsibility. But the chef’s not going to let me back in the kitchen to make them for you, so you’ll have to choose something else.”

After lunch, Rafael and Frankie headed to their apartment to meet with the contractor, who never knew what hit him. With every issue and decision, Frankie would set up their position, and Rafael would make it stick. The contractor wanted to cry. He could see he would get nowhere with these two, so the meeting didn’t take long, and afterward he left to pick up the new supplies he was going to need and recover from the double-team he’d just endured.

Before they returned to work, Frankie pulled Rafael into their bedroom and took the opportunity to make up to him for falling asleep the previous night.

Returning home that evening, Rafael was hit with a blast of cold autumn air as he opened the door. Most of the windows in the apartment were open for some reason.

“Francisca?” He called, wondering what was happening. He heard her call to him from their bedroom, and found her sitting on the floor of the bathroom, back against the wall, looking pale with a sheen of sweat on her face. Rafael was instantly concerned and kneeling next to her on the floor.

“What happened? What’s wrong?”

Frankie loved the mixture of love and tender worry in his voice. It was a tone he used only with her, and only when they were alone. “It’s nothing. It’s just that smell. I can’t stand it. I opened all the windows, but it’s so bad I actually threw up. Glamorous, I know.”

Rafael frowned. “What smell?”

“You can’t smell that? That horrible, sharp chemical smell?”

When he sniffed, paying attention, he did catch a faint sweetish metallic scent. “I guess I smell something, but it’s pretty faint.”

“Probably because the windows are open. I actually do feel a little bit better now. I asked the contractor and he said it’s the stuff they used to seal the bricks in the fireplace today.” Frankie went a little green talking about it.

“Do you want to try to get up? You could lay on the bed. It has to be more comfortable than this floor.”

Rafael helped Frankie to her feet, looking closely at her. The smell must have been pretty strong before she opened the windows, for it to be affecting her like this. He tried to help her to the bed, but she gently pushed his arm away.

“I’m OK, Barba.”

“Maybe I just want to put my arm around you.”

“It’s all about you, huh?” She smiled at him as she sat on the edge of the bed.

“Are you sure this is just from that smell? Maybe you’re getting sick.”

“No, I feel fine. And, if you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about the smell anymore. Ugh.”

Frankie laid down and Rafael took a throw that lay across the end of the bed, draping it over her with a look of concern. He smoothed his hand over her hair and kissed her on the forehead. “Why don’t you take a nap and I’ll make dinner. Which will not be huevos rancheros, so don’t ask.”

“Even if that’s what I really want?”

Rafael blinked. “Are you serious?”

“Totally. But I’m not feeling that much like eating, anyway. I think I will sleep for a bit.”

Each time Rafael checked on Frankie, she was still sound asleep. When it was late and he decided to go to bed, he thought he should at least wake her so she could change into night clothes. But then, when she was already asleep, that seemed sort of an odd thing to do. He wrestled with himself for a few moments, just looking at his wife as she slept, her long black braid draped over one shoulder. She seemed to be sleeping an awful lot over the last few weeks, and she just seemed slightly… off. He wondered whether he should suggest she see a doctor, but was sure she would object to that idea. Not that he didn’t enjoy her objections, but this was her health.

After sleeping all night in her clothes under the throw, Frankie woke feeling fine. The smell had mostly dissipated (Rafael had left the windows open and simply worn a coat) and the residual, while unpleasant to her, didn’t seem to be making Frankie sick.

“Where are we going this weekend?” She asked over toast and coffee as they stood amid the plastic and tools in their kitchen.

“I was thinking I’d surprise you.”

Frankie scowled theatrically. “You know I don’t trust you.”

“I know. But you do want me, and if I know you, you’ll put up with a surprise just so you can ravish me.”

“Do I need to remind you that you once kidnapped me?”

He smiled. “You were a little mad at me at the time. And it worked.”

“You are insufferably pleased with yourself,” she said, shaking her head as she moved to kiss him.

“Well, for the record, I’m pleased with you, too.”

Rafael and Frankie happened to be in the SVU squad room at the end of the work day, so they rode home together. As he navigated the crowded streets, Frankie studied Rafael. “Did you change your cologne?”

“What? No. Why?”

“It just smells different.”

“You can smell my cologne from over there? At the end of the day? I must have put way too much on.”

“No, you didn’t. You’re fine. It’s just because we’re in an enclosed car.” Frankie yawned.

“You’re tired?” Rafael’s expression reflected his concern.

“A little. I shouldn’t be, after sleeping so long last night. What’s the look for?”

“Francisca, I’m a little worried about you. You’ve been sleeping a lot lately.”

“You’re exhausting. And I have to deal with you at work and at home.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” Frankie grinned. “I feel fine, Barba. I feel great.”

That evening, Frankie made a paella while Rafael worked at their kitchen table until dinner was ready. Afterward, they washed the dishes and packed them back in their crates, not without some grumbling from both of them about the state of the kitchen. When they finished, Rafael suggested they relax and watch a movie.

“I have a better idea,” Frankie said. “I’ve been regretting that shower I didn’t take with you the other night. How about we do that?”

“Why is that a better idea than mine?”

“Because we’ll be naked and I’ll probably get fresh.”

“We can watch a movie naked and you can get fresh.”

“Why are you so difficult? Just take a shower with me, Barba. I’ll make it worth your while.”

Even after being married for almost a year, Rafael could not resist the look she gave him from under her eyelashes. He followed her into the bedroom, then into the closet where they were less careful than usual with their clothes.

They held one another under the hot spray, kissing and touching.

“I love you, Barba,” Frankie murmured, looking into his eyes.

“You know, many wives call their husbands by their first names.”

“Many wives are not married to you.” Frankie returned to kissing him, then pulled back a little. “Does that really bother you?”

He smiled indulgently. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“I could try calling you Rafael. It’s just that my brother’s name is Rafael, too.”

“You don’t call him Rafael, either.”

“You’re right. Let me try. I love you, Rafael.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How was it?”

“Hmmmm. I need more practice.” She kissed him deeply, then murmured, “I love you, Rafael.” As her caresses became more intimate, she repeated softly, “I love you, Rafael.”

Later, in bed, after he had removed the slinky nightgown she’d slipped on, she was still whispering it from time to time. Now he was inside her, watching her face as he moved in and out, following the pressure of her hands on his hips. She was very close, rubbing hard against the fingers he had slipped between them. He felt her tense and begin to shiver.

“Oh, Rafael! Rafael, I’m… I love you so much! Rafael…”

He would never tire of the complex, joyous feeling of hearing Francisca climax when he made love to her. When he had stroked into her through her orgasm, she smiled up at him, laughing a little, and planted her feet on the mattress so that she could move her hips against him. He was there almost immediately, kissing her sloppily and groaning disconnected words of love.

They spent some time catching their breath and then rolled until they were side by side, arms around one another and foreheads touching.

“So?”

“Nope,” she responded softly. “You’re Barba.”

He laughed and pulled her tightly into his arms, where she fell asleep within moments.

Frankie was concerned. She sat at her desk at Federal Plaza, looking around her office and wondering what was wrong with her. She was definitely nauseated, and the thing that was nauseating her was the smell of the teriyaki her coworkers had ordered in for lunch. Which made no sense, because they ordered that at least once a month. It was delicious, but she had closed the carton as soon as she’d opened it at her desk and shoved it away. Then, when she still felt queasy, she got up and carried it to the break room down the hall and put it in the refrigerator, barely making it to the rest room before vomiting. Now, as she sat at her desk, she was remembering Barba’s comment the day before about her sleeping more than usual. She decided it was worth a call to her doctor. She didn’t want to be sick, especially now when she and Rafael were planning to begin trying to get pregnant soon.

The next day, Frankie sat on the edge of the examination table wearing a paper gown and feeling slightly ridiculous. The paper gown wasn’t helping, but the real problem was that she felt fine. She hadn’t felt nauseous since the day before, and she’d stayed wide awake until the time she and Barba normally went to bed the night before. She somewhat sheepishly told the doctor what had been going on, apologizing for overreacting.

“It’s probably just hormones, right? Since I went off the pill? I should relax. If I’m this uptight about preparing to get pregnant, I can just imagine what I’m going to be like when we actually are.”

“Maybe. But I prefer to be the doctor in these situations, Doctor.”

Frankie blushed. “Sorry.”

Emma Brightman smiled kindly at Frankie, her perfect teeth looking dazzling against her very dark skin. She was older than Frankie, with a lot of grey in her hair, which she wore fairly short, letting the natural, tight curls give it bouncy life. “No apology necessary. I’m a lousy patient, too. So, I guess I don’t have to tell you that your symptoms are classic for pregnancy.”

“I know, but I can’t be pregnant yet.”

“Have you been having sex?”

“Yes, but you told us we had to use a barrier method for the first months after I went off the pill.”

“And have you been?”

“Yes. Mostly.”

“Well,” Dr. Brightman chuckled, “That’s mostly effective. Let’s get some blood and see where we are.”

Back in the waiting room, Frankie sat, still feeling foolish. She shouldn’t have come, and now Emma was going to think she was a hypochondriac. She was glad she hadn’t mentioned this appointment to Barba. They could laugh about this tonight at the hotel. She knew he was going to mock her about it, but she’d just remind him that he had been the first to suggest she might be sick.

The young medical technician poked her head out the door. “Dr. Rojas-Barba?”

Frankie followed her down the hall back to the same examining room. “You can keep everything on, the Doctor will be with you in a moment.”

Frankie played with a plastic model of the female reproductive system on a counter in the exam room while she waited. There was a small fetus in the plastic uterus. All of the parts could be removed, and Frankie had it pretty much dismantled when Dr. Brightman walked in. She laughed when she saw what Frankie was doing.

“I didn’t say you could play with my toys.”

“I’m not sure I can put this back together again,” Frankie said, holding up a plastic ovary.

“Then I’m glad you’re a psychiatrist and not a surgeon. Have a seat.”

Frankie put down the plastic ovary and sat on a hard chair against the wall next to the exam table. Dr. Brightman took a seat on her usual rolling stool and rolled over to Frankie.

“Well. All of your bloodwork looks fine. You’re not even anemic anymore, which means you must’ve taken my advice about your diet.”

“I did.”

“And you’re pregnant.”

Frankie walked beside Rafael down the hushed, thickly carpeted hall of the hotel, feeling as though a tornado raged inside her, with an intense, howling wind that only she could hear. She was very nervous, and had no idea why. They’d talked about this. They’d sat together and shared their dreams about what it would mean to have children together. They’d planned this. But somehow, the reality was terrifying and Frankie could not shake the idea that maybe the reality would change the way Barba felt. Maybe he would be upset that the timing wasn’t what they’d planned. Maybe…

The bellman placed their suitcases in the bedroom and left with a hefty tip from Rafael, who was thrilled to be out of their messy, plastic-shrouded apartment for the weekend. Rafael turned to see Francisca looking around the living area of their suite, a strange grin on her face. She’d been unusually quiet since they’d met at their apartment after work, but when he’d asked her about it, she’d shrugged it off with a joke.

She sat down on the end of a chaise longue and turned her eyes to him.

“I think you might be right. I might be spoiled. This place is really something.”

“You sure you won’t miss the plastic?”

“I’ll try to get through it as best I can. But you should come sit by me. I might need your support.”

He eagerly crossed the room and sat as close to her as he could, while they reached for each other’s hands. She smiled up at him, and he was surprised to see the glint of tears forming in her eyes.

“I love you. You know that, right?”

“Of course I do. Everything OK?”

“Everything’s wonderful. I mean it, Barba. I give you as much trouble as possible, but you know that’s because I love you, right? Because it’s who we are?”

“Francisca, of course I do. What’s gotten into you?”

She laughed, surprising him. “Well, funny you should put it exactly that way.” With a deep breath, looking into his eyes as she spoke, she said, “We, um… We’re pregnant.”

The smile began even before he could form words. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I went to see Emma Brightman today, because I’ve been feeling so weird lately. The baby’s due in May.”

“May.” Rafael’s face was a study in shifting emotions. His smile only continued to widen, but underneath a wave of joy, he wavered between concern for Frankie, incredulity, and - she was a little glad to see he felt it, too - fear.

Frankie let it sink in. As a psychiatrist, she knew he would need time. Besides, she was thoroughly enjoying his reaction. As long as she could see that he was happy – and he was already radiating happiness – she could deal with anything else.

He started to laugh. “’What’s gotten into you?’ I said, ‘What’s gotten into you.’”

She couldn’t help but laugh with him. “Yes, you did. You also took responsibility for my craving for huevos rancheros which, as it turns out, is your fault.”

Rafael’s laughter subsided rather quickly, to be replaced by a tender seriousness. “Francisca, you’re… I don’t even know how to tell you. I love you. I’m so happy.” He took her into his arms, a little more gently than he might have before learning she was pregnant. “I love you, mi fresa, so much. And now we’re going to have a baby.”

When they relaxed their arms around each other, Frankie could see that Barba was still wearing a somewhat bemused, shocked expression.

“I’m freaked out,” she said.

“I think I’m a little freaked out, myself. I guess it’s going to take a while to get used to the idea.”

“We have until May.”

“That’s not very long,” he said, sitting up on the edge of the chaise. “We’ll need to get a hold of the contractor. We weren’t planning on doing anything with the second bedroom yet, but now he’s going to have to get to work on a nursery. We’ll need built-ins; lots of cupboards and drawers and storage. Babies need so much stuff. We’ll need-“

“We can wait until Monday.”

“Yeah, but that’s just the room itself. We’re going to need all the furniture, and all the stuff – do you have any idea how much… equipment you need for a baby? Strollers and bottles and – we’re gonna breast feed, right?”

“I am, yes.” Frankie smirked while Barba, completely oblivious to the joke, continued.

“I have an idea! Let’s go shopping. Right now.” His hopeful, expectant look made Frankie smile so hard it hurt.

“Shit, you’re adorable,” she said.

“We’re going to have to get out of the habit of swearing, too.”

Frankie pulled him back from the edge of the chaise, and put her arms around him, kissing him. “I fucking love you, Barba. And we will get all the stuff Baby Barba needs before May. But there are months between then and now. Let’s not go shopping right this minute.”

“No?” He asked, relaxing a bit and kissing her back.

“Let’s stay here and order room service – I hope they have huevos rancheros because I’m dying for them – and just… be together.”

The half-smile and look of adoration he beamed down on her took her breath away. He stood, removed his jacket and tossed it on a nearby chair, and sat at the head of the chaise. “Ven aca[3].”

Frankie settled on her side between his legs, leaning her head on his chest and wrapping her arms around him.

“I love you, Barba.”

“I love you, too, mi fresa. And I already love Baby Barba.”

“Me, too.”

[1] See Chapter 1

[2] Beloved, darling

[3] Come here.

#law & order svu #law & order: special victims unit #rafael barba #raul esparza

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yeet-or-be-hawed · 5 years

Text

“Lost and Found” Arthur Morgan x Reader

Fluff

This was another request for @shewalksinanotherworld! Thank you guys for being so patient with me, I’ve had major writer’s block the last few days but now I’m back full swing!

After getting separated from the gang, the reader has to learn to fend for themselves and survive on their own. Arthur thought you had died in a shootout, so boy was he in for a surprise when he sees a familiar horse in Rhodes!

You cursed the sun as you rode into Rhodes, the air was dry and hot and the dust caked your lungs. You were used to living it rough, but you were used to living it rough with others. Since you got separated from your gang, it’s been nothing but hardships one after the other. You tried so hard not to blame the others. You tried not to let it harden your heart. You tried to tell yourself there was a good reason they didn’t come back for you, or even attempt to send you a letter. Unfortunately you could only try for so long and being left alone with your own thoughts only made it easier for you to abandon hope and replace with with anger. How dare they just leave you behind like that? How dare they never even try to let you know their location? Something always nagged at you in the back of your head, told you you weren’t special and no one cared. It’s why your mama and daddy left you in the streets to starve. It’s why the orphanage was more than willing to throw you out on the streets when they became too overpopulated. And it’s why the people you came to call family picked up and left you without a trace. It didn’t bother you though, you told yourself. You came to terms with the fact you would be alone forever long ago.

You dismounted your horse in front of the butcher.

“Ah, hello young lady. You must be new to these parts, I ain’t seen you before!”

You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes. “I been sellin’ to you the last three months, Eddie.”

the man became flustered and cleared his throat. “Don’t worry about it.” You said flatly as you u loaded your hunt onto the butcher’s table.

An awkward silence fell between you as he handed you your cash. After you collected, you headed over to the saloon. It didn’t take you long to spend the money you had just received on whiskey and fried catfish.

“...suspicious lookin’ group down by the lake.”

“Saw one of em ridin’ through town yesterday, looked like a mean son of a bitch. Best leave em be till they move on.”

The conversation faded out as the two men left the saloon. You made a mental note to keep your eyes peeled, just in case they were bounty hunters. There seemed to be more and more damned flesh hunters every year. You waved to the bartender, “One more down here good sir.”

“Comin’ right up!”

He placed the shot in front of you and you knocked it back easily. “You reckon that group them men was talkin’ bout were bounty hunters?”

The bartender raised an eyebrow at you suspiciously. “Nah, I don’t reckon so. The men and some of the women like to come into town every now and again. One of ‘em actually asked me about bounty hunters the first time he came in though. Seem like a nice crowd, said the factory they all worked for up North shut down. ”

You nodded. “Thanks.” You placed a tip on the table and turned out the door. As you headed towards the sheriff’s office, you lowered your hat over your face and pulled your hair out of its normal braid. “Afternoon.” You said plainly to the man sitting in behind the desk.

“Mornin’.” The man slurred. You rolled your eyes, this sheriff was no more a threat than the hound dog sniffing around the saloon.

Your eyes studied the board of bounty posters. Your own was there and you grabbed it quickly. You’d have to remember to burn it later. When you removed it, something grabbed your eye. There were layers of bounty posters on the cork board, and sticking out two layers behind you could see AR for the first name and M for the last name.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” You whispered as you pulled out the wanted poster. There he was, a ghost from your past. “WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE. ARTHUR MORGAN, LAST SEEN IN VALENTINE. ASSOCIATES ALSO WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE: DUTCH VAN DER LINDE, HOSEA MATTHEWS, JOHN MARSTON, MICAH BELL. ANY ACCOMPANYING PERSONS WILL BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR AIDING AND ABETTING.”

He looked handsome as ever, even in some shitty drawing. Your first thought was, Arthur could’ve drawn himself so much better. Your second thought was, burn in hell, Morgan. You crumpled up the wanted poster in your hand and stuffed it in your bag. You had half a mind to leave it up, fuck all of them, they could rot for all you cared. They left you, he left you.

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, Arthur’s betrayal (or what you considered betrayal) cut you deeper than any of the rest. He was your closest friend in the Van Der Linde Gang, and even though you would never say it, you were hoping to make things more intimate between you two, and sometimes you felt like Arthur wanted the same. But that was a long time ago, before they up and left you in Blackwater. No food, no shelter, they even took your tent. All you had was the clothes on your body and the supplies you had on your horse. Arthur never once sent you a letter; you went to the post office every day, sometimes multiple times a day, hoping for a letter from Tacitus Killgore but it never came. You kept your old alias at the post just in case. That was what burned you the deepest. There were so many opportunities to reach out, and none of them did, not even Arthur.

You decided you would burn his bounty poster along with yours. If any of the others had bounty posters, they could deal with it on their own. Maybe one day Arthur will know your pain of having hisfamily uprooted and left on his own without a trace. You decided that would be a worse fate than being found by bountymen.

You felt tired as you mounted your horse, as if your body was being dragged down by weights. You sighed heavily and gave him a pat. “Come on boy, lets get back home.” With a dig of spurs, the horse sped down the trail.

Arthur cackled as Sadie read off Pearon’s letter in her best impersonation of him as they pulled off the slim trail from Clemen’s Point onto the main road leading into Rhodes. As he pulled out, a horse flew by them like a bullet. Long hair trailed behind the rider’s head and time stood still. He was almost certain that was who he thought it was, but that was impossible. Dutch said she died in the shootout at Blackwater. His eyes followed horse until it disappeared. All in all no more than ten seconds had passed but to Arthur it seemed like he watched that horse for hours.

“Well, come on then let’s go!” Sadie said impatiently.

Arthur sighed and gave the reins a pull. He was in a daze of his own thoughts the rest of the day and for the first time in months, your ghost returned to him in his dreams that night.

Arthur brought the brim of his hat farther over his eyes as he walked down the steps of the gun shop. He could tolerate most anything, but this dry dusty air was getting real old real quick. He gave his horse a good pat and a carrot, she deserved it. The horses around camp deserved more praise than what they got, or atleast Arthur seemed to think so. It must be just as hard on them all this moving as it is for everyone else. “Yer a good ol girl.” He cooed softly. He mounted effortlessly and took a slow pace down the main street of Rhodes. He wanted to whip the reins and tear through the middle of the street like a hell on a horse, but as a badged deputy, he had to maintain a low profile. Hosea and Dutch thought it was silly how serious he took it, he figured he was just doing his best to keep cover.

The horse caught his attention, an Appaloosa with a Leopard coat. It was so dirty, he could hardly distinguish the spots from the mud. Your hair was the next thing he saw. Big and poofy, no doubt from the humidity. When you turned, his heart stopped. “It’s you.” He said breathlessly.

You didn’t even hear anyone approach. When you turned to mount your horse, there he was. He was standing so the afternoon sun sent sunbeams dancing around him making him look like a blessing, but it felt like a curse. He looked too well, a new olive colored vest with golden accents hugged his chest and a crisp white shirt, so new it hadn’t developed sweat stains. His sleeves were rolled up as usual, you remembered him mentioning he hated how restricting full sleeves felt. You remembered secretly admiring the muscular arms he would leave exposed. He seemed a little beefier than you remembered and his beard was longer. You hated him for looking so good.

“I can’t believe it’s really you.” He said softly before pulling himself off his horse. He approached with a big grin, that bastard. He was met with a swift slap to the face.

The shock from your slap rippled throughout his entire body. Of all the reactions, this was the last one he expected. He rubbed the spot where you hit him. “What the hell was that for?” He hissed.

“That was for leaving me!” You half yelled. A couple people were already staring but you didn’t care. “I go hunting for a day and I come back to nothing. No letter, no explanation, no tent! You took my tent for Christ’s sake! I gave my all to you, to everyone and that’s how I’m repaid. Left for dead with nothing but the clothes on my back.” Arthur blinked. You were seething with anger, but your eyes were welling with tears. “You left me behind.” Your voice was suddenly soft and you looked at the ground. Arthur saw the tears fall into the dust. “You left me to die and didn’t even care.”

Arthur stammered, he had no idea what to say. “Dutch said-“

“What did Dutch say? I’m sure it sounded very heroic and made the decision very easy.”

“Dutch said you were dead!” Arthur finally snapped. “He told me you died in that shootout. I grieved over you, I cried for you.” His voice shook with emotion. He grabbed your wrist tight and when you looked him in the eyes, the raw intensity behind them scared you. “Had I thought there would’ve been the slimmest chance you were still alive, I would’ve fought to my last breath to find you.”

Arthur said more than he meant to say in a rush of overwhelming emotions and it took him aback when you looked at him with confusion. “What shootout?”

“Scuse me?”

“What shootout? Why did Dutch say I died?” You looked him dead in the eye and a pit formed in his stomach.

“I...I don’t know.” His grip around your wrists loosened as his eyes darted to and from your face. “Me and Hosea was plannin’ a job, but Micah and Dutch swore by this ferry job they was stakin’ out. I wasn’t with them, but somethin’ went south and the law showed up quick. We had to move out so fast we left everything expect the caravans and the horses. All that money, all my things, and I ain’t sure we can ever get back.”

You sighed. “I understand, that’s a lot to go through, but you didn’t think to try to reach out to me, even once? I been at the post office damn near every day waiting for something, anything from you!”

Arthur gave you a thin glare, “well I don’t remember gettin’ a letter from you, what’s yer excuse?”

You sputtered, it honestly hadn’t occurred to you. “I...well I was- you always tell us to be so careful! How was I supposed to know if Tacitus Killgore was still safe?”

He crossed his arms, he knew you well enough to know when you had been had. “And how was I supposed to know Marisol Fletcher was still safe?”

You huffed in frustration and refused to look him in the eye. “Yeah well, fair enough. That still don’t change the question: why did Dutch say I died in a gun fight I wasn’t even involved in?”

Arthur went quiet. There had to be some sort of misunderstanding. Dutch would never leave a gang member behind if he could help it. And what was the point in lying? To keep Arthur from returning to Blackwater for you? There had to be some reason for lying.

You took Arthur’s silence as an answer. It was apparent to you that even though you were alive, Dutch made it clear you weren’t apart of the gang any more. You cleared your throat and grabbed your horse’s reins. “It’s gettin’ late, I need to get back to camp.”

Arthur straightened up and whistled for his horse, she had a bad habit of wandering away. “C’mon, you can follow me. We ain’t too far from here.”

You shook your head as you mounted. “I mean my camp. I ain’t goin’ back, Arthur. I am very... happy to know you’re alive and okay, but Dutch has made up his mind. I’m dead to the gang now, I’m on my own.”

“That’s not-“

“But it is.” You looked over the horizon. “Come with me.”

“What?”

You were certain he heard you. You sighed, “never mind. That was a silly request, you’re as loyal as they come Arthur Morgan. Write me when you can, and I’ll always respond. Until then, Mr. Morgan.” With a snap of the reins, heavy hooves sent up a cloud of dust.

Arthur couldn’t decide if he was relieved or frightened by the sight of you today. His thoughts were in a whirlwind as he rode back to camp. Nothing about this made sense, nothing at all.

“Who’s there?” Bill called.

“Arthur, dumbass.” He rolled his eyes, who the hell else would it be? He didn’t even hitch his Arabian before jumping off and making a beeline for Dutch’s tent.

Dutch was sat on a crate just outside his tent puffing a cigar. He lifted a brow in Arthur’s direction as he approached. Dutch let out a thick puff of smoke and smiled, “Good afternoon, Arthur.”

Arthur tipped his hat, “Dutch.” He took a seat beside the older man and cleared his throat. “Can we talk for a minute?”

Ditched eyed Arthur uneasily, “sure son, what’s on your mind.”

“You remember the shootout in Blackwater?”

“Course I do.”

“Who all died? In the shootout I mean.”

“Ahhh...let’s see.” Dutch sat back and tilted his head up, Arthur thought he looked a bit theatrical. “Ol Davey was shot, but he died up in the mountains. Jenny got caught in the fire, the Calander boys, and Y/N was there too.”

“I thought she went out huntin’ that day.”

Dutch cleared his throat. “She did, she did. Returned in the middle of the chaos, her and that pretty horse a hers got shot I believe.”

There was a false note in his voice it was very faint, so faint had Arthur not been face to face with you just a coupla hours ago, he may not have caught it. His eyes slowly came up and met Dutch’s. “That’s strange.” He said slowly. “Because I just ran into her in Rhodes.”

Dutch’s cigar nearly fell out of his mouth as he stuttered and stumbled on his words. “That- I-.... are ya sure it was her?” His voice was steady, but Arthur could see the quick flare of panic in Dutch’s eye.

He crossed his arms and nodded. “Sure as the sun is high. Stopped and talked to her. She seemed quite upset we left her behind.” He laughed nervously and rubbed his cheek. “My cheek still stings from where she slapped me.” He paused and his tone was serious. “Did you see her and her horse get shot?”

Arthur could see the cogs moving in Dutch’s head. “No, I... I didn’t.”

“Then why? Why leave her there? Damn it Dutch we took everything she had with us! She coulda died!”

“What’s important is she’s alive now!” Dutch said hastily. “Did she have the money from Blackwater?”

“No. She said all she had was the clothes on her back and the supplies on her horse.”

Dutch’s eyes went dark as he stared off in space. “We don’t know that.” He said slowly then rose to his feet. “She coulda snuck back and stole everything we had waiting for us. Does she know where we are now?”

The look in Dutch’s eye was fierce, Arthur averted his gaze. “No, I offered to bring her back but she wouldn’t come.”

“Good.” Dutch nodded and paced. “We don’t need her comin’ back here and stealin’ the rest of what we got.”

“Come on Dutch, she ain’t like that. We both known her for years before we got separated, surely you got a little more faith in us than that.”

Dutch shook his head in frustration. “Now why else would she follow us here? Arthur my boy don’t you see? She’s greedy, she wants to take everything from us.” He turned toward Arthur and his eyes focused. “No contact with her, you hear me? Not even through the mail, you can’t trust the mail service any more.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, “Dutch, I think yer gettin’ paranoid in your old age. Why don’t we just meet up and-“

“No!” Dutch bellowed. “I said no contact. No letters, and certainly no meeting up and that is final.” He sighed and softened his voice as he put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “I know I’m being harsh, but I just want what’s best for us, for everybody. I know you miss her, but we can’t trust her anymore. Take comfort in knowing she’s alive. It’s more than what most of us have gotten from this life.”

Arthur watched Dutch’s back as he walked away. Was Dutch descending into a new madness or was Arthur following so blindly that he hadn’t noticed until now? He did not know.

Arthur groaned in frustration as he ripped the page from his journal and balled it up. Identical wads of paper littered the booth he sat in at the saloon. Writing was always something that came easily to him, until now.

Y/N,

I spoke to Dutch and

Rip! Crinkle crinkle. Let’s not start with that.

Dearest Y/N,

Rip! Dearest? Arthur flushed. Maybe too much. Crinkle crinkle.

Y/N,

He paused and sighed, he knew what he had to say but putting it into words was proving easier said than done. This is the last shot, after spending an hour writing unfinished letters, this is the last one just say what you have to say. He laid the pencil back to paper and stopped thinking.

I’ve missed your company terribly, so I am quite happy to be writing you this letter. Mary-Beth told me to tell you hello and send you her warmest regards. She cried when I told her you were alive, by the way. Don’t you know it’s rude to make women cry? I guess I can’t say too much, I’m not much of a gentleman myself. We didn’t get a chance to catch up when we spoke, I am curious as to where you have traveled and how you’ve kept yourself. I hope you faired better than us. After the whole Blackwater mess, we retreated up North and stayed in an abandoned mining town called Colter. We about starved to death waiting on the thaw, Davey did die, but from a bullet wound. Ol’ John Marston got attacked by wolves, he’s okay unfortunately just a bit uglier. A lotta bit uglier. Once the thaw came, we hit a train owned by Leviticus Cornwall. We didn’t know who the hell he was at the time, and what a mistake it was. Apparently he’s some big oil tycoon, he’s hired the Pinkerton Protection Agency just for us, ain’t we special? So between Pinkerton’s, bounty hunters, lawmen, and O’Driscolls, we’ve managed to find ourselves farther east than I’m comfortable with. In my opinion, we’re too close to civilization and people. Hosea agrees, he thinks if we keep up in this direction we’re gonna end up right in the jaws of their trap and I couldn’t agree more. Dutch is... well, Dutch is Dutch. He swears he’s got a plan to get us outta here, but instead of the West, he wants to go to the Philippines. Or was it Tahiti? Or maybe the Philippines are in Tahiti? To be honest, Dutch isn’t making a lot of sense these days. The day I saw you in town I confronted him about Blackwater. Dutch is a lot of things and a liar isn’t one of them, but I swear I could see his brain ticking like he was searching for answers he didn’t know. Things are changing, Y/N and things aren’t as simple as they used to be. Remember out in Nevada, it seems like we were just kids then. The group was so small, we were all so young. We were the best team for scams, weren’t we? Even managed to impress Hosea. It isn’t like that no more, I’m sure you’ve noticed. I know you said you aren’t coming back to the gang and I understand, but I hope you would be willing to spend some time with an old friend. If you’re still around Rhodes, you should meet me at the saloon sometime for a drink. I look forward to your letter and hope to see you again soon, I miss your company more than I’d like to admit.

Yours, Arthur

Arthur cringed at the last line, it didn’t sound as foolish in his head as it read on paper. He debated crinkling it in a ball and restarting but that was a page and a half worth of writing! He sighed heavily and carefully ripped the pages from his journal and folded them neatly. He would need a new alias, one no one else in camp would know. After a moment of thought, he signed the envelope as Morgan Callahan.

The morning fog rolled over the lake and refracted the morning sunlight over the waves of the shore. The morning air was thick and soupy, you could already feel your hair sticking to the back of your neck. You wiped your brow as you put on your boots and began the day. This wouldn’t be such a terrible place to stay if it wasn’t so damn humid all the time. Iron Flat Lake was teeming with life, both underwater and around its shores. The woods surrounding the lake were flourishing with wildlife. In the three months you had been staying here, you were able to gain a few pounds and keep a low profile. You kept your head low after Blackwater, being part of a gang was the biggest advantage to evading the law and without it you were left vulnerable; you adapted in response. You were an outlaw turned outdoorsman, you traded in your repeater for a bow and replaced blood lust with the thrill of the hunt.

After pulling on your day clothes and your boots, you began your daily routine. First, you check your nets that you had set the night before. You frowned down at the single bass flopping in the tangle of nets. Usually the yield was higher, but one fish is enough for breakfast so it was all you needed. After breakfast, it’s time to kill the fire and take down the tent. Your spot was safe, but paranoia isn’t always a bad thing when you’re on the run, never such thing as too safe. The next step of the day is one that you almost cut out completely- checking the mail. The mid morning sun was warming the thick air as you came into Rhodes.

“Got anything for Marisol Fletcher?”

“Yes actually,” you looked up in surprise, you hadn’t had anything in weeks. You had to close your slack jaw when the postman turned back to you and handed you an envelope. “Here you are.”

You gave him a bright smile and a nod. “Thank you very much!”

You sat at the bench in the shade as you inspected the parcel. You didn’t recognize the name, Morgan Callahan? But you recognized the handwriting immediately. You couldn’t stop the smile that spread over your face as you read over Arthur’s beautiful handwriting. You forgot how eloquently he wrote, you could almost hear his voice reading you the words. The pages had a slight leather scent, they must’ve came from his journal. A memory of him sitting against his caravan lost in his drawings came into your mind. As you finished the letter, you reread the last sentence over and over. I miss your company more than I’d like to admit.

How just like Arthur, it brought back so many confusing memories. Late night conversations where you could swear you saw his eyes linger on your lips, small moments in saloons after he’s had too many drinks and he’d get a little handsy but never in a disrespectful manor. But with all these little things came awkward next mornings where he wouldn’t look at you, claim to drink too much to remember what had happened the night before, and don’t even get started with the whole Mary situation. This man confuses you to no end with his wishy washy behavior. You sighed, was he wishy washy or were you just desperate to read into things? Maybe you just imagined his eyes lingering on your lips, maybe you took his touches too seriously. Maybe you wanted more from your relationship with him than he wanted. There was no maybe on that one, but you shook your head to yourself. You saw how Arthur loves a woman first hand, you were there every step of the way from the time he first met Mary until she rejected his proposal. That was the one night you had seen Arthur cry, and it was the most heartbreaking thing you’d ever seen in your life. So yes, you knew how Arthur loved and no, it was not intended for you.

You pushed yourself off the bench and into the crowded saloon. Your eyes searched for Arthur, but he wasn’t there. You were a little relieved, after so long you had forgotten how to hide how flustered he made you. You pulled the stolen stationary paper from your satchel and began to write.

Dear Arthur,

I have missed you also, as well as everyone else in the gang. Tell Mary-Beth I was elated to hear from her and hope all is well for her. Honestly Arthur, who hasn’t heard of Leviticus Cornwall these days? That surely was a mistake. I stayed in Blackwater for a couple of weeks in case you all came back but not only did you have wanted posters everywhere, the place was also crawling with bounty hunters. I heard some of them got Sean, I tried tracking him down but the trail went cold after a few days. After that, I was everywhere and nowhere. I survived off the land, really survived. I thought what we was doing as a gang was surviving but boy was I wrong. Having a group that size is a privilege you don’t know you have until it’s gone. With more and more bounty hunters popping up, I had to lay low. You’d be proud, Arthur I haven’t committed a crime worse than pickpocketing since we were separated. I’ve mostly just made money by hunting and fishing, I’ll pick up odd jobs where I can. For the most part it’s just been me and Ol’ Cow. He’s still fit as a fiddle, still wouldn’t trade him in for the world. Tell Marston I’m sorry to hear about his unfortunate face, maybe it will humble him up a bit. As far as Dutch goes, well maybe I shouldn’t go there as to keep conversation friendly. Don’t trust him Arthur, that man is a snake. I know he and Hosea raised you, raised us, but people change and not always for the best. Keep that in mind in your travels, and get the hell out of there the moment you notice anything fishy. You’re right, the world has changed and it isn’t so simple anymore. Civilization isn’t the cause of corruption, it’s the spawn of it. At the end of the day, there’s only one cause of corruption and that’s people. As for me, I’m currently camping out on Iron Bed Lake so I’m not far from Rhodes at all. I usually stop in the saloon in the evenings for a drink and some supper, that would be the easiest time to catch me. Maybe I’ll show you where camp is, your company is welcome anytime. I look forward to your company as always.

Yours, Y/N

You frowned at the ‘yours’. You always just signed, but it felt natural to mirror Arthur’s closing. As you folded the letter, you wondered when you would get to see him again. You pushed down the blossoming hope that it would be soon.

Arthur read the parcel just outside the post office, he told himself he didn’t want to risk getting caught but that didn’t explain the excitement he felt as he tore open the envelope. His heart felt heavy as he read your letter, you had lived so hard on your own and he had no idea you were even out there. It was hard for him to remember what it was like to be on his own before he met Dutch and Hosea. It had been so long, he honestly couldn’t recall. But, to live roughly you looked good, he thought. He smiled at the pages, he had forgotten the silly name you gave to your horse. It brought back the memory of the day you bought him from the stables. He spent two days trying to give you better names, what kind of name is Cow for a horse? He would ask. You would shrug as you patted his pink nose and say that it was a good name for a good horse and that was that. If anyone was more stubborn than him, it was you. He looked up at the sky as he finished the letter, the sun was already behind the trees. Perfect timing, he thought to himself as he whistled for his horse. The saloon wasn’t far at all, but Arthur wasn’t a patient man.

When he entered the saloon, his eyes darted across every face until they landed on a familiar black hat at the bar. He straightened himself and tugged at his vest self consciously, he wished he would’ve taken a bath first. He cleared his throat. “Ma’am.”

When you turned, Arthur was able to get a good look at you. Even through the humidity, your hair was still shiny and vibrant, the color hadn’t dulled a day since Blackwater. You had had a bath recently, your skin was clean and he could clearly see the freckles that dotted your cheeks. The sun had spotted new freckles since he had last seen you, now sitting around your lips and chin. Your sleeves were rolled up to reveal arms that were much more muscular than they were before. Even through the thin material of your shirt he could see the muscles in your back and shoulders. He tried to recall a more beautiful sight and was lost for words. When your lips curled into a smile, he felt a familiar heat in his cheeks. “Hello Arthur, have a seat.”

He nodded and obliged. Why was he so damn nervous all of a sudden? He started to speak and his mouth was terribly dry. He cleared his throat and waved over the bar tender. “So,” he stared at the ground as he spoke. “What kinda work you been doin’ in a run down town like this?”

You took a sip of your beer. “Mostly just handy work. Helped a feller patch his roof this mornin’.”

He smiled and his eyes flickered back to your muscular shoulders. “Well, ain’t you just a gentleman.”

You rolled your eyes. “Hey, gotta do whatcha can to survive.” You smiled and let out a breathy laugh. “Plus, I kinda like helpin’ people now.”

Arthur raised a brow towards you, “so you went from robbin’ and killin’ folks go helpin’ em around the house, huh?” He laughed. “Good on ya, ya got out.”

“Huh?”

He looked at you. “Ya got out, out of the outlaw game. Look at you now, a regular citizen.”

You frowned into your mug. “It weren’t my choice.”

“I’m sorry that wasn’t-“ he stuttered.

You sighed and gave him a smile. To him it looked terribly sad. “It’s okay, really. I know it ain’t your fault. I do miss it, more often than I don’t.”

“Why?”

“I guess I just miss havin’ a family. And people who care.”

“You can have a family outside the gang, ya know.” The bartender sat a beer in front of Arthur and he took a swig. “Hosea tried it for a few years.”

You barked a short laugh. “And who would have me? Look at me, I’m a beat up, rough nobody. Ain’t no man gonna want me.”

Arthur’s heart lurched, he fought the urge to put his hand on yours. Is this what he sounded like when he put himself down? It all sounded so ridiculous to him. “You don’t know that.” He said softly.

You leaned your head against his shoulder and he looked at you. Your eyes were far away and a small smile was on your face. “I do, but thank you anyways.”

As evening shifted into night, one beer turned to two, which turned to five. The saloon was in full swing, every booth full of patrons and the saloon girls were fliting around like fireflies in July. A jolly tune was coming from the piano and the chaotic noise of drunk men but all you could hear was Arthur’s bubbling laughter. His cheeks were a bright red from the booze and he wore a lazy smile. He said something, but it was so slurred together in an incoherent mumble.

“What’d you say?”

He leaned in close to your ear and you felt his beard hair prickle against your skin. “I said, let’s get outta here.” His Breath was hot and you were glad he didn’t feel you tremble. You nodded and he took your hand and led you out into the street. The saloon was the only building with lights still on and the chaotic noise was muffled in the night. The crickets chirped as the two of you stumbled down Main Street.

Arthur still had your hand in his big palm, half dragging you along as you sang obnoxiously into the night. Arthur was carefully paying attention to the ground under him, but you were not. You stumbled over a rock and began to fall forward, but you were caught by two heavy hands on your waist. “Careful.” He laughed.

You giggled drunkenly and when you lifted your head to look at him, his face was inches from yours. Even with your vision spinning, you could Arthur’s eyes on your lips, when he met your eyes, there was something behind them you had never seen. After a moment, he cleared his throat and helped you to your feet. His hand lingered on your waist and you leaned into his shoulder as you smiled up to him, “thanks Artie.”

Arthur spurted and laughed heartily. “Artie?” He wipes a tear from his eye and laughed again. “Is that what yer callin’ me now?”

You laughed with him, the movement caused the two of you to sway. “Naw, I just thought it was cute.” Your finger came up and bopped him on the nose.

“You’re cute.” Arthur blurted. As soon as it left his lips he could’ve smacked himself. What a fool he was.

You wrapped your arms around his waist tightly, “not as cute as you.”

Arthur’s vision was blurry but there was nothing wrong with his hearing. He swallowed hard, this was too much. He cleared his throat. “Where’s your camp?” He looked around and almost lost his balance. “Wheres the horses?” He slurred.

You laughed and slumped against a near by bench. “Who knows?” You fell into a fit of drunken giddy giggles.

Arthur plopped down beside you and slunk an arm around your shoulders. He smiled to himself as you curled up against his chest. “I’ve missed you.” You mumbled.

Arthur couldn’t tell if the heat in his cheeks was from the booze anymore. “I...I missed you too.”

When you looked up at him with those big doe eyes, he swore he could see whole worlds reflecting back at him. “Wanna know a secret?” You whispered.

He gulped. “Sure.”

With the most straight face you could manage you said, “I’m going to throw up.”

And with the most grace and poise Arthur has ever seen in a drunk person, you stood up, turned away from him, and vomited. He rolled his eyes and stood shakily. He put a hand on your back-for your support and his- and pulled your hair back with the other. “S’okay,” he whispered. “I gotcha.”

You cleared your throat and wiped your mouth as you turned to Arthur. “I think” you slurred. “It’s time for night night.”

Arthur laughed and whistled for his horse. She must not have been far, she came around the corner immediately. Arthur used her as support as he helped you up and then pulled himself up clumsily. He almost pulled you down as he mounted and the two of you fell into another laughing fit after you helped him up. “Okay okay,” He said as he tried to contain his laughter. “Where you stayin’ at?”

You leaned back against him and pointed lazily. “Jus’ go that way for a minute, I’ll tell ya where to go.”

With your best attempts of directions, the two of you finally made it back to camp and there your loyal steed was, waiting at camp without you. “Son of a bitch.” You muttered. “I’m too drunk to set up a tent.”

Arthur pulled his bedroll from his horse. “Sky’s clear, it shouldn’t rain tonight. We should be fine sleepin’ under the stars.”

You hadn’t even unpacked your bedroll before tumbling to the ground and resting against an old log.

Arthur laughed, “you sure you don’t want somethin’ more comfortable than the ground?”

You didn’t hear him, you were out.

When you woke up the next morning, your head felt like it had been smashed against a rock. You groaned as you sat up and rubbed your eyes.

“Mornin’.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin and let out a small scream as you opened your eyes. When they focused on Arthur you groaned. “Jesus Arthur, you about gave me a heart attack. Ain’t used to havin’ other people around.”

He handed you a cup of coffee as you stretched. “Sorry bout that, didn’t want to wake ya.”

You scratched your head and closed your eyes as you sipped from your coffee. “Ugh, I feel like hell.”

Arthur chuckled. “Drink up, that should help. You should probably eat something too.”

You nodded and groaned in agreement as you stood up. “Christ,” You said as you walked over to check the nets. “How much did we drink last night? I lost count.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t count.”

As you pulled the net in, your arms ached in disagreement. Arthur stood up quickly, “need some help?”

You let go with one hand to do a shooing motion and went back to pulling it in. “I got it.”

The net was much more successful this morning, yielding three smallmouth bass and two largemouth bass. You smiled triumphantly. “Did someone say breakfast?”

You ate together in silence, Arthur contemplated bringing you back to camp, how mad could Dutch really get? You had something different on your mind. Through your hungover haze, little flashes were coming back. Arthur holding your hand, the way his lips brushed your ear, the way his beard felt against your skin, his arm around your waist. His presence was unearthing so many buried emotions it was starting to get overwhelming. He was the first to speak. “Do you plan on doin’ this forever?”

“Doin’ what?” You turned to look at him and he was staring at the ground.

He turned to you. “Doin’ this, livin’ on your own. Are you not lonely?”

You frowned. “Course I get lonely, but where else am I gonna go?”

“Come with me.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He stood. “Come back to camp, come back to the gang! We all miss you like crazy, and Dutch, well Dutch can deal with it.” He took your hands in his and pulled you up from the ground so quickly you almost lost your balance. His gaze was so intense on you you had to look away.

“Arthur, Dutch ain’t gonna just let me waltz back in. And like I said, I don’t trust that man. I can’t trust him farther than I can throw him and as much as I-“ you caught yourself as sighed. “As much as I...care about you-about all of you, I can’t trust that man with my safety and well-being.”

“Trust me then.” You looked up at him and he caught your cheek in his hand. “Trust me with your safety and your well-being. Let me take care of you.”

Your chest seized and it was hard to breathe. “Arthur I...”

He suddenly looked sad and pulled away. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-“

You cut him off as he began to turn away by grabbing his face and pulling it down to yours. Your lips were on his and before he could react, they were gone. You couldn’t look up at his face, you couldn’t handle the rejection. “Arthur, I care about you entirely too much for my own good. I need to go.”

Arthur was frozen in shock, he could still feel the ghost of your lips on his. As you turned to your horse, he felt the panic slip in, he lost you once and he didn’t want to lose you again. He caught your wrist and when you turned to look at him he looked desperate, afraid, and devistatingly handsome. “Don’t go. Don’t make me go without you again, I ain’t strong enough. You don’t gotta come back with me, just stay with me.”

“I...oh Arthur, you know I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” He wrapped his big arms around your waist and it sent butterflies to your stomach. You wrapped your arms around him and sighed. “What are ya gonna tell Dutch?”

He buried his face into your neck and you felt him inhale. “I ain’t gotta tell him a thing.”

You rolled your eyes and relaxed in his embrace. “You silly, silly man.”

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #arthur x reader #van der linde gang #reader insert #rdr2 fanfic #request #fluff

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calicobelmonte · 5 years

Text

This Autumn Day

Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: You committed suicide a month ago, but Tom got a message from you today.

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, lots and lots of that t h i c c angst, some fluff if you look at it with a microscope

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: This wasn’t originally going to be a suicide story, but as the idea progressed it made the most sense to have Y/N die that way. Please be careful of triggers, warnings are up there ^ My inbox and asks are always available if you need to talk about anything. Lots of love.

Thirty-two days. Thirty-two days of grief-stricken tears and paralyzing sadness. Thirty-two days since she died.

It had been only thirty two days, but it felt longer.

Tom hadn’t stepped foot out of his apartment since her funeral, only allowing his family and Harrison to visit occasionally. Their company never helped ease the sadness in his chest though; it only made it worse, knowing they were worried for him. It made it worse because he couldn’t care enough to pull himself together. Not when she was gone.

He was always alone, the curtains perpetually drawn to keep out the light and the air silent as he’d never known before. Tessa was gone, his parents having taken her to relieve him of the responsibility of caring for her. He was grateful, seeing as he couldn’t even take care of himself.

He took a break from acting. No one blamed him, but he still felt slightly guilty for taking away Spider-Man from the world. It didn’t really matter though, when the world had taken her away from him.

He spent his days trying to take the edge off his sorrow with countless bottles of beer, staying up late into the night and sleeping the day away. He hadn’t showered in two weeks or eaten a proper meal since her death. How could he, when she was longer here?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tom expected the day to be the same as the thirty-one days before it. Wake up around two in the afternoon, drink a bottle of beer for lunch, maybe some food if Haz or his mom visited and made him eat, then lay back down to stare numbly at the ceiling until it was dark. Down a couple more beers until he passed out, and wake up in the middle of the afternoon the next day. Repeat ad infinitum.

It was all ruined when his phone chimed with a text at eight in the morning.

Right after the news of her death got out, his phone had blown up with notifications from family, friends, and worried fans. It was exhausting and bothersome when he himself was shaken and broken to the core, and he'd blocked all of them and deleted his social media.

Haz, his parents, his brothers, they all were given a free pass on the account they wouldn’t bother him. And they didn’t, too worried for his mental state to push him. So who was texting him so early in the morning?

Tom blinked, his eyes sticky from sleep, and pressed his fingers against his temples with a groan. He had a killer migraine, and really didn’t appreciate getting woken up so early.

His phone pinged again and he grumbled angrily before reaching to grab it, ready to block whoever had the nerve to bother him, when he saw it.

It was her.

“Hey Hero, it’s Y/N…..” the notification read, right below the contact name he’d given her and didn’t have the heart to change after she’d died. My Beautiful Future Wife.

But that was impossible. She was gone.

Yet here she was, texting him like she’d never left.

Tom was too shocked to respond properly, only automatically unlocking his phone to check his messages.

And there it was, the first message he’d gotten since twenty-eight days before.

He clicked it open and started reading, feeling his hands shake violently as he sat hunched over his phone.

“Hey Hero, it’s Y/N. I know this is a shock to you, but if you’re getting this, I’m most definitely dead.”

Tom let out a shaky breath. She was dead. She wasn’t alive, and he'd known it, but the crushing disappointment weighed down on him anyways.

“Darling, please don’t beat yourself up over it. It isn’t your fault, or anyone’s, really. I’ve been planning it for a long time, but being with you let me live my last year happily. You made me happy, but I think that it’s time for me to go now. Knowing I’ll be leaving you is the worst part.

I’m sorry I couldn’t leave you a tangible letter, something you could hold on to like I’ve done for my family and friends. I’ve tried, but none of them really felt right. I decided that writing these texts is the best I could do, and I’ve been putting them away for a long time. But this first one I wrote right before my death. It’s the only one that feels perfect. I’m really not the best writer though, so I’m sorry I can’t tell you everything I want to, to express how much that I love you, so this will be the best you’ll get. I’m so so sorry.

I’ll be honest, I sat with that plastic bag and canister of helium for a long time, wondering if what I’m going to do is what I really wanted. I started thinking, ‘Maybe I don’t have to die.’ You made me happier than I’ve felt in a long, long time, and for a few minutes I imagined just living another day. I would be alive to see you come home after your meeting, alive to see your face once again. But one more day would make it another week, then another month, and another year. And I would keep hurting. Today is the day; I have to be strong. But today was perfect as it was. I woke up next to you, and we made breakfast together listening to our favorite songs. That is enough for me. I was happy. Tom, thank you for that. You made the last year of my life the best one.

The death won’t be painful. It’ll be like falling asleep. I’m not worried, and as I’m writing this, I just feel peaceful. It’ll all be over.

I just hope you won’t be the one to find me. I don’t want you to see me like this, and instead remember me as the way I looked when you left the house a few hours ago. I’d put on my biggest smile for you, and I’d worn your favorite clothes on me. I made sure to tell you that I love you. I don’t regret anything. I’m happy, knowing you loved me and that I loved you, and that I’ll pass peacefully still loving and being loved by you.

I’m not scared. I think it’ll be warm and bright. I’ll think about you as I take my final breaths.”

Tom could barely see the next message through the tears in his eyes, but he managed to read it silently, his chest tight and achy.

Just three words: “I love you.”

He felt his lip tremble as his tears finally spilled over in thick streams down his cheeks and off his chin. He heard a low keening, an animal sound that cried of loss and utter pain and it was only after a few seconds that he realized that it was him.

He couldn’t breath, couldn’t see, couldn’t move. He could only cry, and remember that last, bright smile she’d given him as she closed the door behind him.

I love you.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

For exactly three-hundred-and-sixty-five days after that, he received messages from her everyday. Some were questions, others consolations. There were little inside jokes, affectionate teasing, and gentle encouragements.

“My hero, how are you today? I hope you ate something and had a little time to just relax. I know how hard you work yourself. Visit that little cafe we love in town for me today, alright?”

“Tommy, have you ever wondered what rainbows look like to other animals? Even though they don’t see the same colors as us, I bet it’s just as beautiful.”

“I really do wish we could’ve gone stargazing in the desert like we’d planned. Why don’t you take Haz and your brothers instead? Think of me while you’re there.”

“If you’re ever feeling down Honey Bee, just remember that time we went to the beach together and you taught me how to surf. It was super sunny and the water felt amazing, remember? I wiped out a dozen times but you always laughed and helped me back on my board. It was such a great day, I hope you experience many more like it.”

“Make sure to give yourself a little love today, okay Tommy? You deserve it, and so much more.”

“I think the best day we’ve ever had was when we went to that children’s hospital two months after we met, when you dressed up as Spider-Man to cheer up all the sick kids. They were overjoyed to see you, and you were so happy to make them happy. I think I fell in love with you that day.”

Little by little, with every message from her, Tom improved, taking baby steps back into the world since her death.

He stopped drinking, and started eating again. He went to sleep a little earlier, and started waking up earlier too. He showered, he shaved, he started looking after himself properly.

On one overcast day, he cleaned himself up and stepped foot outside. He breathed in the crisp autumn air, so different from the closed, musty scent of his apartment, tugged his jacket closed, and trudged all the way to his parents’ house.

They were elated to see him and he let them hug him for the first time in two months. His brothers cried when they saw him, Tessa wouldn’t stop barking happily, and they spent the day together as a family. As dusk fell, they bought a cake and some candles, and Tom whispered “Happy Birthday, Y/N,” as he blew out the candles for her.

When the first snowfall arrived, Tom drove to the cafe in town and bought himself his and her favorite drinks. He took them to the cemetery with a bouquet of red flowers, visiting her grave for the first time since the funeral. “Miss you tons,” he told her as he placed the drink and the flowers in front of her gravestone. “Thank you for your messages.”

When spring arrived, he took Haz and his brothers to the United States, driving out to a desert in the middle of nowhere at night. They sat on the roof of their truck together, gazing up at the starry sky that spread out above them like a blanket. “Hey Y/N, just letting you know I’m thinking of you,” he said, feeling his brothers’ eyes on him. Haz slung his arm comfortingly around his shoulders and added, “We all are.”

As the days got hotter and spring gave way to summer, he went to the same beach he had gone with her two years ago and taught his family how to surf. He laughed every time one of them fell off their board and helped them back on. It was a beautiful, sunny day and the water felt cool against his skin. He’d brought a necklace of hers, and sealed it into a clear wine bottle with a cork before flinging it into the waves. “I hope this makes its way to you somehow. Knowing you, you’ll find a way to get it. Love you so much.”

The days got cooler and summer ushered in the melancholy breezes of autumn. Tom finally started acting again, cast in another movie as Spider-Man. One day, he took his suit and a few fellow actors to visit the children’s hospital. They were so so happy to see him, and seeing their smiles brought a smile to his own face. He visited her grave again later that day, still wearing the suit. “I’m hoping you’re still in love with me, but if you aren’t this better make you love me again,” he joked.

The anniversary of her death finally arrived, and with it, her final message to him. Tom woke up with Tessa laying next to him, the curtains drawn to let in the watery sunlight of fall, and fifteen new notifications on his phone.

Two messages were from his brothers, one was from Haz, and the next ten were from his other friends and co-workers from the studio.

The last two, though, were the two he cared the most about. The ones from her.

As he clicked the message open, he had a feeling that these were her last texts from her. Instead of feeling lost or broken as he might have before, though, he felt a deep, warm gratefulness spreading from his chest. He began reading.

“Dearest Tommy,

It was this day last year that I left the world. I hope that today, you can let me go too. You see, before I started actually thinking about dying, I always felt that everyone who’d loved me should always love me, even after I died. They shouldn’t move on, they shouldn’t feel better, because I was gone. It wouldn’t be fair, right?

But as I’m writing this, I’m watching you and Tessa run through the leaves at the dog park and I can hear your laugh and all I can think is, it wouldn’t be fair for the world to never hear that laugh again.

I can’t bear to think that my death will leave you broken and unable to love again, that I’m the one to rob you of happiness. You deserve all the happiness in the world, darling. You are such an amazing, kind, generous, silly person and I can’t believe how lucky I am to have had you.

I’ve been writing a bunch of texts to you since two years ago, but this one is one I’m writing now. I still haven’t written the first one you’ll see yet, but I’m sure it’ll come to me soon.

I’m going to die next week, on the first of September. Until then, I’m going to spend all my time with you, with so much happiness. It’ll be a good way to go, I think.

You’re calling me over now, but there’s one more thing I have to tell you.

Do you remember that time, two years ago, when we went to Switzerland and visited that quaint little cafe in the small town in the mountains? We both drank a chai latte and had a sugar cookie, and for the whole day I could feel the warmth of the latte in my throat and the sweetness of the sugar cookie lingering on my tongue. And as we hiked around the mountains, hand in hand, I could smell the unique scent of autumn as we walked through patches of sunlight that looked like it was made out of pure gold as it filtered through the leaves. I felt such a strange, pure joy then, and sometimes I think of that day and feel a little ache in my chest that makes me smile to myself.

I think that’s what heaven will be like. Just a constant autumn, a little sad, but a little happy too. I’ll walk the mountains by myself, thinking of you and our sweet three years together. I’ll miss you so much, but I hope that all that’ll be left of me is a faint warmth in your throat and a lingering sweetness on your tongue that’ll make you smile a little to yourself when you remember me.

For the very last time, I love you Tommy.”

Tom got out of bed, stretched, and opened the windows. He inhaled the unique scent of autumn and smiled into the golden morning sunlight.

#yikes this is sad #press f for respect lol #Idk i kinda like it #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #angst #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #tom #sad

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hollandroos · 5 years

Text

How Could I Not? | Six

Playlist | Wattpad | Series masterlist

Summary: You and Tom are only supposed to be friends... friends who sometimes take things a step further and friends who can’t seem to spend longer then a few days apart. But that can all change with a positive pregnancy test and Suddenly you have to work together more then ever to prepare for the new life you created. But is it really that easy?

Words: 2562

Warnings: This is pure fluff unless you read between the lines. After this, it’s about to get realll angsty.

Please remember to reblog/comment/send an ask if you enjoyed this!!

Read the previous chapter here!

It takes more muscles to frown then it does to smile.

That’s what Tom had told you when he found you frowning over the missing poptarts and instead, handed you the box of cornflakes which you willingly threw back at him. Corn flakes made your stomach turn – was that normal? He grunted upon getting hit with the box, the cardboard corner hitting him in the chest.

So that’s how you both ended up at the supermarket at six thirty-seven on a Tuesday evening, wrapped up in a pair of sweatpants with a form-fitting tee that hugged your bump. That wasn’t the smartest option as you came to a halt at the frozen goods. The hairs on your arms stand – goosebumps form on bare skin but your eyes remain drawn on the pint of Ben and Jerry's and a set of eager hands reach for the last pint of your favourite flavours.

Only it wasn’t your hands, it was Toms.

“Snoozers are losers.” He tells you with a wicked grin.

“You know I’m still going to steal that, right?” You point out, hugging your arms to your chest. Icy fingertips grip your forearms and Toms coat looked awfully comfortable right about now.

Tom clicks his tongue, placing the pint down in the basket. “We’re sharing a freezer now so no doubt. Harrison always did the same, I imagine you’re going to be worse.

It was a trip for poptarts and poptarts only. Not cornflakes or any of those foods that made your stomach turn but now you had a basket of ice cream, few vegetables and the odd apple as well as a couple of frozen meals. Eat everything in moderation, right? Tom had demanded you get canned peaches too – his favourite after dinner snack.

“I’m pregnant, I’m eating for two now and this hungry baby wants Ben and Jerry's.” You poke his arm, handing him the basket that grew progressively heavy and grabbed another pint. Tom knew that with the hours he was working, you’d manage to get into the tub he picked up – not that he minded. Why would he?

Your baby was now as big as a peach and you and Tom had briefly gone over whether or not you wanted to find out the gender. Well, Tom had gone over it. He was bubbling with excitement. You were uncertain and your uncertainty had made for some nerves on Toms part but he was yet to say something.

Uncertainty was normal, however, even if it felt consuming at times.

There were times, like right now where you felt comfortable. Or at least as comfortable as you could with cold arms and feet that were in the beginning stages of swelling up. But there were other times where you felt uncomfortable in your own mind and skin. It was late at night especially when your mind would turn into a beehive, buzzing with thoughts that kept you awake and overthinking.

You weren’t ready for this. Not in the slightest. What about your plans. What about your parent's plans for you and everything you still had to achieve and… what about Tom?

You slip your bottom lip between your teeth and chew nervously, eyes darting across the supermarket floor. It’s so cold in there and the tingling in your arms increases, toes tensing around your cotton socks – or were they Toms? Your washing had gotten reasonably confused to the point where you could be wearing his sweatpants right now and he could be wearing your uni sweater and neither of you would notice the switch up.

“You’re cold, c’ mere.”

You look up for the first time since your mind had begun reeling. It could’ve been ten seconds or ten minutes but a sense of comfort washes over you as you meet his warm gaze. It’s like being enveloped in a blanket – a mental blanket. There’s reassurance and concern in chestnut coloured eyes and just enough to provoke a trapped breath out of your tense figure.

Shaking your head, strands of hair brush against your neck and you’re thankful you decided to wear your hair down to cover Toms mess from a couple of days ago.

“No, it’s okay. We’ll be leaving soon anyw–”

“I didn’t say it was a question,” Tom says, extending the coat to you. The statement was demanding but Tom wears a concerned look, one you saw all too often from your frantic best friend who maybe you were falling for. No. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones. You didn’t even know what you were thinking right now.

Your brain felt like jelly. But you take the coat, numb fingers wrapping around the cotton and you slip it over your head, tugging the coat closer until you’re blanketed in his cologne that often invaded the bathroom you two shared (not that you minded) and finally – something warm.

“You alright?” He asks, peering over.

Tom was trying to capture this moment for reasons he couldn’t quite decipher just yet. You were exquisite in his eyes, a gem.

“Hm? Yeah,” You reply, rocking back and forth on your heels. “I’m good, just thinking. Are you?” You lace your hands together. “Okay, I mean. Are you okay?”

“I’m great, I’ve got ice cream, my best friend and my peach. Couldn’t be better.” Tom gives you a childish grinning, lightly admitting that he had his entire world within a two-meter radius. “What were you thinking about in that pretty little head of yours?”

Your shrug, a chuckle that nearly seems as fake as the checkout ladies smile slipping past your lips. “You, the baby, stealing the ice cream. All the normal stuff.”

“You think about me a lot?” Tom questions, tilting his head to the side much like an excited puppy.

You want to say of course you do – because he’s your best friend and more often then not you find yourself with him. Whether you’re eating poorly made meals together on the living room couch or sharing a bed despite the fact that you both had your own. Or sneaking into the other's work when things seem unbearable and sometimes you showered while he brushed his teeth or vice versa – the possibilities were endless.

But you don’t get to defend your case, because just down the aisle, merely a few meters away from you a woman – around thirty-six looks over, lips pulled tightly into a pursed smile. Tom notices her first and the way her eyes almost widden with pure excitement at your words. She grips a pram with one hand and Tom almost makes it his mission to see the baby.

He’s smiling at the lady that steps towards you both anything but shyly, dragging the pram equipped with a gurgling baby girl behind her. He assumed the baby was a girl by the pink baby bag that hung off the side of the pram and the little, purple coat that was attached.

“Are you expecting?” She asks gently, afraid to be wrong. Tom looks at you and nudges you softly. Your eyes and salivating mouth leaves the ice cream section momentarily and you look at Tom hesitantly before responding.

“I am.” You tell her, hand instinctively going over your bump. Fingers dance over the cotton of the shirt. Your mind was no longer on the bleak cold. It’s then that you realise she’s holding a can of baby food – mushy peas and carrot and you grimace, wondering if the smell alone would send you racing to the loo.

“Lovely, isn’t it? I just had my fourth a few months ago.”

Fourth.

You were on edge enough with your first.

“Fourth – wow, that’s amazing. Congratulations!” You hesitate, glancing at the pram before saying; “I’m only fourteen weeks along but he’s my first.”

Tom wants to stop you and tell you that he had a hunch the baby was going to be a girl but bites his tongue. Instead he glances into the pram, seeing a baby in a Dora onesie and can’t help but smile. The wee thing had drool running down her chin– blue eyes wide and hopeful and filled with curiosity.

He couldn’t help but think that if he had a girl, he’d dress her in greens and yellows. Tom liked yellow because it always reminded him of the sunrise – and lemons, definitely lemons. Sweet and sour at the same time. Lemons were perfect for making lemonade, a treat everyone enjoyed as well as ice blocks to be devoured on a hot day.

He liked green because it reminded him of grass but more specifically grass in the summer after meeting hours of sun rays. When each strand is painted a vibrant green and ladybugs take their place between threads.

“Make the most of it, as much as you enjoy actually being able to hold them you miss the bump. You won’t believe me now because… the pains, constant bathroom use, the cravings – it’s wild, but you do miss having them so close all the time.” The lady tells you, glancing up at Tom. “And you – dad, I assume.” She beams, pearly whites shining through glossy lips. “What a lucky man. You be good to her, she’s going to need you.”

Your mouth falls, forming an O shape. “Oh, we’re not –”

“Thank you, I am lucky.” Tom slips his hand into yours, feeling your ring press against his finger and smiles adoringly. It was a promise ring between two friends. A promise that you wouldn’t lose him and him you sealed with a single silver heart. “I’m super excited to be a dad and to do it with the love of my life too? It’s a dream, really.”

You knew that Tom was dragging it on but you swear your heart stops for a second upon hearing him call you the love of his life. You had called one another that before and even joked about it from time to time while watching romcoms, specifically. But it sounded different coming from him in such a serious tone. Your chest swells at the statement and your cheeks grow as warm as a heating pad.

You narrow your eyes at him anyway, keeping your flaring senses to yourself. “He’s been wonderful, really, an absolute angel throughout the whole experience so far.” The sarcasm is shield by your remorse, for you were both lying straight to the ladies face.

Her baby begins to let out little cries and her small screeches quickly consume the aisle. The baby is looking you dead in the eyes with wavering hands, little fingers screwed into fists. You don’t know what to do– that is, before Tom begins to coe towards the child, gentle noises falling from his lips and she calms down slightly, watching his every move.

He’s a natural and you’re clearly not the only one that thinks that as the stranger glimpses down, a look of adoration on her face.

It’s when she walks away from that you talk to him again, your heart doing 180’s in your chest. All blood has run to your cheeks and the tips of your ears and his coat no longer seems necessary but you keep it on, draping over your arms and waist and what would be called the beginning of your bump.

“She was nice.” He hums, watching her walk down the aisle with the pram beneath closed fingertips. “and her baby was adorable. Little girl too, had the cutest duck stuffie.”

”Hmm.” You glare, only being able to murmur a small response. In the basket, the ice cream begins to melt, condensation rolling right down the side and onto the bottom of the plastic. At some point during the chat, you’d taken it back off of Tom and were now gripping the handles tightly between your fingers to stop you from fiddling with your fingers.

Tom raises his hands above his head in exaggeration and tries to prevent a laugh from escaping his lips. “What’d I do?”

He’s coy, pretending he didn’t know what he did to further bug you but you both knew.

“Wipe that smirk off of your face, dork, you know what you did.”

“What?” His hands go to your waist and he tugs you closer, ignoring the canned peaches. You try to shuffle away when Toms grip loosens and soon his fingers are brushing over your waist, successfully prompting giggles out of you as he reaches your ticklish spots. “You’re my girlfriend, you’re meant to love me!” He over exaggerates.

“I’m going to drop your ice cream if you don’t stop!” You threaten, loosening the grip on the basket. “I’m not your girlfriend, you ass.”

Toms' fingers come to a halt, keeping you close against his chest and without either of your knowledge, an elderly man glares as he wanders past in search of the cola but his wife coos at the two so evidently in love. Her heart flutters in pure adoration and it only accelerates when Tom can no longer contain his spurts of laughter.

“My ice cream? You’ve basically already made your claim on that.” -

Tom throws himself onto the bed with a huff, ignoring the cat that hisses as he does so. He wants to hiss back but at this point, the thing was damn near close to attacking him. So he simply ignores it, resulting in the ginger cat scurrying off on little furry feet.

Your room is dark, merely lit up by the light from your laptop screen, the bedside lamp and the moon that shines through a gap in the curtains but you’re quick to shut the lid of your laptop when Tom plops down, taking the light with it.

But it doesn’t take a large amount of light to show that your room is much cleaner then his but maybe that was because you’ve only been living there for a small number of weeks. The majority of your clothing is hung up and tucked away in the wardrobe, only the odd item is strewn on the floor or on the end of the bed while a few, still unpacked items sit in the corner.

“What were you looking at?” He questions, handing you a metal spoon. It’s one of the ones with funky animals at the ends and you wonder if they’re new – or if he simply hadn’t given you the one with the elephant on the end up until now.

You stare at your closed laptop momentarily, endless thoughts plaguing your mind.

“Nothing,” You hum, taking a spoonful of the ice cream he had so politely offered to share. “Just doin’ some stuff for work, the usual.”

The ice cream tub is cold in his hand and he lets it rest in between the tangled mess of sheets. If you weren’t currently working on swallowing the guilt that was sitting at the back of your throat then maybe you would’ve told him off because the pint was sure to make your sheets wet and cold.

“Sounds boring.” He groans, throwing his head back on the pillow. Brown curls lay scattered and you bite back the urge to run your fingers through them. Tom looked peaceful, nothing less then content as he heads towards a mild brain freeze.

“It is, I wouldn’t worry about it.”

SEVEN

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#tom holland #how could I not series #Tom Holland fanfic #Tom Holland fanfiction #Tom Holland imagines #Tom Holland imagine #Tom Holland au #Tom Holland fluff #Tom Holland x reader #Tom Holland x reader insert #Tom Holland series #tom holland oneshot #fwb!tom holland #dad!tom #dad!Tom Holland

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too-many-baes · 5 years

Text

Guardian Angel

Pairing: fem!reader x Castiel

Warning(s): None that come to mind, angst for days

Word Count: 3K

Summary: Y/N recounts her life of having Castiel as her guardian angel

Part Two

A/N: I wrote this one forever ago but I’m reposting it cause IDK it just holds a special place in my heart.

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

You don’t know when it was exactly that you first noticed it, but as a little girl you always felt safe. When you’re four obviously there’s not a lot that you can be afraid of, asides spiders and the dark, but you always felt this overwhelming feeling of safety. You realised when you were six that it was because of your special friend, as you had always called him.

You had been playing on a playground on an ordinary summer’s afternoon when your normally very on guard mother had gotten a work call which caused her to step away from you so she could hear it better. You had been swinging on the monkey bars when your hand had slipped and you fell right from the top to the ground, hitting yourself on the bars as you went. You crawled out from underneath clutching your right arm. Being as young as you were you had never felt pain anything like it, and you were crying and calling for your mother, but she had wandered too far away to hear you. There was a strange rustling sound and suddenly a man was in front of you, a man you were sure you had never seen before. He reached forward and touched his fingers to your forehead and immediately all of your pain was gone.

“Who are you?”

“I’m a friend” was all he gave in response. Although the man’s appearance seemed rather ordinary there was something magical about him. You thought at the time he must be a wizard or maybe even an alien.

“Y/N! Y/N!” You looked over seeing your mother rushing towards you in a panic. “My arm doesn’t hurt anymore, how’d you do that?” You asked him. He simply stood and replied “I’m special Y/N”, before turning to leave. “Wait don’t go!” You yelled out to the man. He turned around to face you once more. “Don’t worry Y/N, I’ll always be here.”

Your mother standing in front of you forced your eyes away from him, and when you had looked back at him he was nowhere to be seen.

“Y/N who was that man?” Your clearly angry mother demanded. “He’s my special friend mummy. I fell and then he touched my head and I wasn’t sore anymore!” She looked aghast at this news, and tried spying the man, but as you knew he was nowhere to be found.

“Y/N how many times have I told you, you don’t talk to strangers, okay? Who knows what could’ve happened to you!” She exclaims, clutching you to her. You had tried to argue and make your case that this man was in fact a friend, he’d helped you, but your mother had thrown words at you that you didn’t understand like ‘naïve’ and ‘unsuspecting’ and told you to never talk to another stranger again.

That particular incident had been forgotten by your mother, but you never forgot your special friend. For months you would watch out for him in the streets, looking at every face that passed in the hopes that you would see your special friend again. But you didn’t until you were 9.

Your whole family had gone to Disneyland and at some point during the excitement of being there you had lost them. You had looked and looked for them but you couldn’t find them anywhere. Hopelessness washed over you until you sat on a bench and started to cry into your hands. There was a rustling noise and suddenly you could feel someone beside you. You looked up to see a man sitting on the bench next to you, watching you intently. This man was different to the one you had met at six, but somehow you knew he was the same, that this was your special friend. You smiled at the sight of him and he had returned it, although slightly more stiff.

“Come, let’s find your family.” You had walked around the park with him, putting your hand in his to make sure you wouldn’t get lost again. He led you straight to your family, where they had been worriedly searching for you. Your mother ran to you and hugged you, and when she had released you to thank the man for returning you, he was gone. Just like last time. You explained that it was your special friend, that he had come to help you. Your mother and your father had said that you were making up stories.

High school was hard for you. You had always struggled making friend and you had hoped that moving schools would make it better. How hard you had been. Your first day of freshman year had been awful. You had gotten lost on your way to first period, had no one to sit with at lunch, and you has wandered through the halls with your head down and your books clutched firmly against your chest. You had felt like you were suffocating, like all eyes were firmly on you all day. The run home had been a blur due to the tears in your eyes. You had run past your concerned parent’s right up the stairs to your room, locking the door and throwing yourself onto your bed.

The sobs racked your body and you were crying so loudly that you almost didn’t hear the rustling sound. You felt the bed dip and you looked up to see a stranger sitting on your bed. He looked different but you knew it was the same man that had appeared to you twice before. You impulsively threw your arms around his neck, crying onto his shoulder. At first he had not reacted, but then he gingerly put an arm around your shoulders as he waiting for your sobs to cease.

When your cries had died down you released him from your vice grip and looked up at him.

“I like this one.” You said, referring to the man he was this time. This man was handsome, far more attractive than what he had been previously. He was in a trench coat wearing a blue tie, but it was his face you were looking at. He had brown hair and the most dazzling blue eyes you had ever seen, they seemed to sparkle at you. “Why is it that you look different every time I see you?” You asked, sitting back down on your bed. This was the longest he had ever hung around before, and you couldn’t quite believe that he hadn’t fled yet.

“I have gone back to heaven after I came to see you prior, so I have gotten a new vessel each time.” He stated matter of factly, as if that should make perfect sense to you.

“Wait, to heaven? Does that make you-” “An angel, yes.” You stared bewildered at him. “So are you my… guardian angel?” You asked, feeling ridiculous at the suggestion. “Yes.”

You were amazed, all those years not knowing what he was, and now you finally had your answer. “Do angels have names?”

“Yes they do.” You couldn’t help but giggle at him. He was so awkward with the way he talked and held himself, making it very obvious that the ways things were done in heaven must be very different to down here on Earth. “So, what’s yours then?” “Castiel.” You smiled at this, Castiel is a pretty name, you had thought to yourself.

“So if you’re my guardian angel, why have I only seen you a couple of times?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“Well, ordinarily we are not supposed to make ourselves known to our humans but… seeing you in suffering causes me great pain.” He had only ever appeared to you during times that you were upset, so it made sense. “So, you’re a rebel then?” You asked cheekily, the smile on your face causing him to smile too. “I guess I am, yes.”

There was a long silence before Castiel cleared his throat. “I should get going, before they realise I’m gone.” Sadness filled you. Having him there had made you forget all about how awful you’d been feeling. “Castiel?” His eyes met yours again. “Can you come back… tomorrow?” You asked. He seemed to think on it for a second before nodding. “If that is what you want. Pray to me and I will come.” “Promise?” He furrowed his brows, unclear what you meant. “Like, you swear you’ll come?” He nodded in understanding. “I promise.” With that and another rustling sound he was gone.

You never would’ve gotten through your freshman and sophomore year if it wasn’t for Castiel. You never really made any friends, but at the end of the day when you were alone in your room , you knew you had Cas if you needed him.

Initially you had prayed to him every night for a week, but after that he had said it was getting too risky for him, that the angels would surely notice his absence. Little did you know that Castiel had loved that week, and loved knowing that he was helping you. Never the less, you prayed to him weekly throughout freshman and sophomore year, and he always kept his promise, he always arrived. When you prayed to him he was there. Most of the time you just wanted someone to talk to, but Castiel was always willing to oblige, enjoying your weekly talks as much as you did. While he was always awkward, he warmed up a little and enjoyed learning about your life, being able to engage in conversation without being so standoffish. Something was different now and you had no idea why but for some reason he kept appearing as the same man.

Everything changed in junior year when you met your boyfriend. Adam was new to town and was a senior. For some reason during lunch he came to join you at your table. You normally sat alone, but having no good reason to turn down his request you agreed, drawn in by his charisma. He sat with you every day from then on. He was nice and he made you laugh, something that you never normally did at school. He became quite popular, and before you knew it you had friends. Sure, mostly they hung out with you for Adam’s benefit, but you had friends for the first time in your life and it felt so good.

Your parents were happy too. For the first time ever, you were going out on the weekends, and much to your parent’s delight you had Adam over for dinners. You could see on their faces how happy they were for you. When Adam asked you out one day after school you said yes. It seemed like the natural step to take. You liked Adam, you really did. He was a really genuine nice guy, but there was something off. When your lips touched his, it didn’t feel like you had thought it would. You weren’t expecting fireworks or anything, but you expected something. Anything. When you looked into his eyes they didn’t sparkle like someone else that you knew. Romance isn’t like in the movies and fairy tales though, and you had to keep reminding yourself of that.

You thought of Cas all the time, he was suck in your brain like gum under a bus stop bench. You never seemed to be able to find the time to pray to him, there was always your friends or homework or Adam. You missed your angel. You wondered often if he was watching you, if he could see how much better you were doing. You missed his awkwardness and his tie, the small smiles he gave you. But most of all you missed his eyes, his bright sparkling eyes that you could get lost in.

He missed you too it seemed, as one day when you had just gotten out of school an unexpected rustling sound made you spin around. There he was, standing right behind you. Excitement washed over you as you ran to him, leaping to hug him. He caught you and spun you around, both of you laughing. He set you back down on the footpath as you smiled up at the familiar and comforting face you had come to know.

“I’ve missed you Cas.” You said, you both beginning to walk home. He looked at you and you couldn’t believe how long it had been since you’d looked into his crystal blues.

“I’ve missed you too Y/N.” He said, his gruff voice setting you at ease like it always did. You filled him in on everything that had been happening in your life. You told him of Adam and the friends you were hanging out with and he smiled the whole time, happy to see you happy. You enquired about his life in heaven, and he had stated that it was tense and did not elaborate. Sooner than you’d have liked you were at your front door.

“So... I guess this is the part when you leave again, huh?” You asked, looking up at him through your lashes. He nodded solemnly, as he wanted to stay as much you. He had missed your company, and had felt upset at the fact you hadn’t prayed to him in a while, not that he’d ever tell you that, or that he even knew how to describe what he was feeling either.

You stood on your tiptoes and wrapt your arms around his neck, his going around your waist. As you buried your face in his neck you relished in the familiar comfort his frame gave you, not realising how truly you had been missing him until then.

“I’m sorry I haven’t prayed recently Cas, there’s just been so much-” you started saying against his neck. “Y/N you don’t have to apologize. I’m your guardian, I’m here when you need, you just haven’t needed me.” As matter of fact as he sounded, the words sent a pang of guilt through you. You opened your mouth to correct him, to tell him that you always needed him, that you were sure you always would, but just as you had pulled back to tell him he had frozen and looked at the ground with his brows furrowed. The tell-tale signs he was listening to angel radio.

“I’m sorry Y/N I have to go.” He said, the look on his face almost asking your permission. “That’s okay. Goodbye Castiel.” With a signature nod and a quick rustle he was gone. You already missed his presence, but you went to sleep on cloud nine, replaying your conversations in your head and reliving the feeling of being in his arms.

You went from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows the next day at school. You had no idea what had happened but nobody was talking to you. Your friends were giving you evil glares and you could find solace in no one. You had eventually found Adam, relieved to see a friendly face. The relief washed away when you received a cold hard stare from him. Turns out someone had seen your hug with Castiel, and rumours had spread that you were cheating on Adam. As much as you begged and pleaded, Adam didn’t believe you were innocent. You spent the day listening to hushed whispers about yourself stating that you were a cheat and a liar.

It was all too much, you had burst through the school doors and started to run home. It felt as though their venomous words and deathly stares were stuck to you, following you down the street. You ran to your room locking the door and collapsing onto the bed.

“Castiel, I need you. Please Cas, I need you here.” You had managed to say through your sobs. You had waited and cried and pleaded but Castiel broke his promise for the first time. You went to sleep that night defeated. You were right back where you started, no friends, no boyfriend, but worst of all, no Castiel.

It’s been three years since then. You still live with your parents and you hold down a job at the retro café in town. After Cas never showed that night you had tried praying to him regularly, but when you never got a response, your prayers lessened until you had given up all together. That’s not to say you didn’t think of him though. Whenever you poured a customer a coffee or paid for your bus fare, he was right there in your mind, those crystal blues etched into your frontal lobe.

It was another dull, Cas-less night and you were perched on the sofa reading a book. Your parents were out for date night, so you were using the silence to try and envelop yourself in the written word but you were failing miserably. A knock at the door gave you an excuse to put the dreadful book down.

When you swung the door open you were greeted with two rather intimidating looking strangers, both dressed in plaid and several layers.

“Y/N?” The shorter one questioned. You nodded wearily, anxious as to why these men were at your door. They exchanged a look with each other before looking back at you. “You need to come with us.” You snorted at the bold statement, earning an angry look from the shorter one.

“Yea, I’m not going anywhere with you two and unless you get off of my porch in two seconds I’m calling the police.” Right when you were about to slam the door in their faces the taller one reached out to hold the door, saying something that stopped you in your tracks.

“We know Castiel.” “How do you know that name?” You immediately questioned.

“We’re friends of his, he sent us here to get you.” You had heard his words but they making no sense to you. “What do you mean, why do you need to get me?”

The shorter one huffed. “Look we don’t have time to explain, we can do that on the way. We just have to get you somewhere safe and we need to do it now.” His words were urgent enough to cut through your stunned stupor. You nodded before running inside, packing a bag of some essentials without actually knowing how long you would be gone, and writing a note to your parents.

You left the house with them on a hope. As you drove to an unknown destination you couldn’t stop your mind from spinning. Amongst all of the confusion and rush of emotions there was one thing that grounded you.

You fell asleep in the backseat to the hum of the engine and the memory of sparkling topaz eyes and safe trench clad arms.

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