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friskynotebook · 2 years

Text

Till There Was You

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Asian plus size f!reader

A professor!Obi x librarian!reader modern!AU

cw: food, age gap

Summary: Fall semester seems to be the same as always—until a handsome professor scares you half to death.

A note on the Asian rep in this 'verse: In this modern AU, the reader is written to be Asian, plus-sized, and female/AFAB. The amount of Asian representation will vary in the different instalments—some will be based heavily in the reader’s culture, others will not. The reader’s culture is based on my own experiences as a mixed-race Chinese woman and is not meant to represent the vast array of Asian cultures.

I also want to give a special shout out to @obiknights and her work Borrowing Privileges—it's one of my favourite professor!Obi fics and it's inspired my own AU. Thank you for your talent and friendship, Brit ❤️

The title comes from the song "Till There Was You" from The Music Man. You can listen to the late, great Rebecca Luker's divine version here.

Also on AO3!

Chinatown AU masterlist

“You do know you have an office, right?”

You set the sickeningly sweet Starbucks drink in front of head librarian Bail Organa, perched in front of a computer at the library services desk. Classes were about to begin at Coruscant University—the period everyone working at the campus library referred to as the calm before the storm.

“Yeah, but the third floor is like an island—it’s so far away. How am I supposed to keep up with all the campus gossip?” Bail replied, taking a sip of his liquified sugar. “Oh, that hits the spot. Thanks.”

“How do you even stomach that?” you asked, sipping your own, slightly more dignified pumpkin spice latte. “Isn’t your blood mostly sugar by now?”

“Not according to my doctor,” he teased. “Still healthy as a horse.”

You rolled your eyes and plopped down in the high wheelie chair beside him. “How you aren’t sick every day is beyond me.”

“Says the woman drinking her third pumpkin spice latte this week.”

“Leave me and my inner white girl alone,” you retorted with no real heat. As you logged into your staff account, something caught the corner of your eye.

“What are those books doing over there?” you asked, nodding towards the cart full of books behind you both—an unusual sight, especially when the normally-organized Bail is on duty and refusing to stay in his office.

Bail swallowed down another mouthful of what barely qualified as coffee. “Two of the elevators were down yesterday and we couldn’t reshelve those.”

You frowned. “But the other two were still working, right?”

He gave a sheepish grin. “Well . . . those books are going to the fifth floor . . .”

“Oh come on!” you groaned, throwing your head back in exasperation. “You’re a grown man!”

“The philosophy stacks are scary!” he defended. “They’re shunted off in that dark corner with the lights that never work—”

“That you can put in a maintenance request for at any time—”

“Assuming they’ll even come,” Bail raised a brow.

He had you there. You sighed. “I think I saw the maintenance crew leaving the elevator bay on my way in. You man the desk and I take these back to the stacks?”

“Deal,” he grinned. “You’re the best!”

“And don’t you forget it,” you smirked back, sliding off the chair. You grabbed your coffee, placed it on the cart, and made your way to the now-fixed elevators.

______________________________________________________________

The fifth floor was normally pretty quiet and, for lack of a better term, dead. Even when the campus was in the thick of exam season, the fifth floor was home to the silent study wing and individual silent study rooms—which, according to Bail, only added to the creepy vibe of the floor. Now, however, only a handful of professors and TAs milled around, picking out some required texts for their fall semester classes.

As you made your way to the corner with the philosophy stacks, you took note of the flickering light next to another that had gone completely out. Maybe Bail did have a reason to be creeped out.

Not that you’d ever admit that to him.

With a sigh, you set up the cart and got to work, taking sips of coffee as you went along—until you got to a book that belonged on the top shelf.

And you realized you had left your step ladder down by the library services desk.

“Shit,” you muttered, taking another sip of coffee as you thought about what to do.

Being 5’2” on a good day, you often had to get . . . creative with reaching things above your height. Crossing your arms, you eye up the stacks. Maybe if I’m quick enough, I can use the shelves as a ladder. Like Super Mario Bros. Or something.

It was worth a try, at any rate.

Grabbing the book, you climbed on the stacks, placing one foot on the first shelf and another foot on the second shelf, praying it would support your weight. I look like some deranged Australian spider.

You reached up to the top shelf, sticking your tongue out of the corner of your mouth as you strained, finally getting the book back in place.

“Are you alright?”

If you were more generous to yourself, you’d say the elegant, clipped British accent slightly startled you.

In reality? It scared the shit out of you and almost caused you to fall off the shelves.

Catching yourself just in time, you carefully climbed back down and adjusted your t-shirt, trying to maintain some shred of dignity.

And then you found yourself looking at the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen.

He was older than you, maybe late thirties? Definitely taller than you, though that wasn’t hard to accomplish. He had thick auburn hair with fringe threatening to fall in his face, with a matching beard that only highlighted his strong jawline and the amused smirk on his lips.

And his eyes. Oh, those eyes.

Bright blue, piercing, and framed by gentle crow’s feet, you felt he was staring right into your soul.

Kind of like you were staring at him.

Too late, you remembered to respond. “I’ll, uh, manage.”

The smirk grew as he glanced up at the top shelf. “You call that managing?”

“I call that getting creative,” you teased, turning back to your books. “I would have been fine if someone hadn’t scared the living daylights out of me.”

When you looked back at the mystery man, you could see a hint of concern and remorse clouding the amusement in his eyes. Feeling your heart clench for reasons you didn’t understand, you hurried to say something else before he could respond.

“But feeling your heart race is the best way to know you’re still alive, right?” You cringe internally. God, that was stupid.

Your lame joke worked—any trace of sadness was gone when you caught another glimpse at him. “I suppose that’s one way to look at it.”

“Is there anything I can help you with?” you asked, remembering it was still, in fact, your job to help patrons.

He furrowed his brow, as if he also remembered what he was supposed to be doing here. “Yes, I’m trying to find some Russell books, B—”

“Bertrand, I’m familiar,” you nodded. Finally that minor in philosophy was coming in handy. “His stuff’s in the next aisle. I can walk you over, if you’d like.”

“Are you sure that won’t be too much trouble?” he asked.

“No trouble at all—it’s on my way,” you replied, pushing the cart along.

“So, do you often find yourself scaling the shelves like Tom Cruise?” he grinned, cutting his eyes over to you.

You snorted. “I doubt I looked as cool as him just now. I would have gone with a drunk monkey.”

“Well, I was trying to be kind.”

“And to think I’m here helping you out of the kindness of my heart,” you grinned, pulling up to the section with Bertrand Russell’s works.

“Is that what we’re calling it now? I thought it was part of your duty as an—” he glanced down at the badge hanging down from your pin-adorned lanyard. “—assistant librarian.”

“Ah, but you missed the fine print,” you chided, shelving more books.

He frowned. “Oh?”

“See, my duty only extends to patrons who don’t mock the librarians as they do their very important work.”

“Like testing the strength of the bookshelves?”

“Precisely.”

You both fell into a companionable silence as he looked for his books and you continued shelving—and if it took you longer than usual to shelve, well, how would he know?

After he spent three whole minutes staring at a shelf with a deeply furrowed brow, you decided to help him out.

“Having a hard time there?”

“How do you people find anything in this blasted library?” he muttered.

You raised a brow. “Isn’t this kind of your old stomping grounds? You give off big philosophy professor energy”

He glanced over. “What makes you say that?”

“Why else would a British guy be looking for Bertrand Russell’s finest work in a campus library before classes even begin?” You turned to him with a smirk, one hand on your hip.

He looked taken aback, almost as if he was . . . impressed? No, not a chance. “You got me,” he nodded. “Nice work.”

“You still didn’t answer my question.”

“If you must know, as much as I love being in the library, I don’t spend much time in the stacks. I’ve never been fond of the Dewey decimal system.” He grabbed the elusive book.

“Really? Because you look like you would be its biggest fan,” you teased back, though you know it’s not entirely true—you doubted Melvil Dewey had a trim, athletic figure or beautiful blue eyes.

“Very funny,” he drawled, snatching up The Conquest of Happiness. “I think that’s the last book.”

“Looks like I’m done here too,” you replied, gesturing to your empty cart, which only held your also-empty coffee cup.

He nodded towards the elevator bank. “Shall we?”

______________________________________________________________

Bail looked up when you and the handsome professor returned to the library services desk. “Obi-Wan Kenobi, as I live and breathe!”

The mystery man—Obi-Wan—broke out into a wide grin, greeting Bail with a hug when he came around the desk.

“You two know each other?” you asked, tossing the cup in the recycling.

“We go way back,” Bail confirmed. “Finally decided to join us on the dark side, huh?”

Before you could question what he said, your friend Kali rushed over to the desk.

“Can you cover the reserves desk for me for a bit? The pita I got from Twiggs is not agreeing with me,” she pleaded.

“Go ahead,” Bail nodded. “I’ll check Obi-Wan out myself.”

“Alright,” you agreed, turning to Obi-Wan. “It was nice meeting you, professor.”

He grinned back, his eyes sparkling. “Until next time,” he replied, saying your name.

You tried to ignore the flash of warmth in your belly at the sound of his honey-rich voice saying your name as you walked away.

No-pressure tags (please message me if you want to be added or removed!): @obiknights @wickedscribbles

#obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi x f!reader #obi-wan x f!reader #Obi Wan Kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #Obi Wan Kenobi x f!reader #obi wan x f!reader #fanfic #fic #Star Wars fic #my writing

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palimundo · 6 months

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I'm going to keep a day log of this supplement I bought to help my ability to focus. But it seems to be neutralizing my mood more. Posting here because it's easily accessible for me, and maybe it'll help others too.

Overall Summary after 45 days: First week gave the best results with regulating my mood and racing thoughts. All after that it became inconsistent, likely because of how my body gets used to new things after enough time. I'll continue to take them to control my anxiety, that's the one thing that's stayed the most consistent and I favor it. If brands are different, I'm willing to try others to see if there's a response as good as the first week.

Day 1: I had an extremely hard time waking up, no doubt because of my ongoing anxiety doing its worst to me the day before but maybe also because it was super cold in the house and I went to bed late. Taking the supplement I guess I was more focused, in that I didn't feel all anxious at the thought of starting anything important, but it still took me the same amount of time to do any starting. I think it's because my head was hurting so much and on top of that my body couldn't adjust to the temperature drop in weather. But when the headache did let up and I did things, I felt good.

Day 2: Got slammed with palpitations this morning when realizing I forgot something significant when completing an important application yesterday. I knew there wasn't anything I could do but my body was already freaking out. After hours of being awake in bed in the dead of morning I finally started my day and took the supplements with my vitamins. Pretty quickly I cooled down, but now it feels like I'm underwhelmed by everything. This is good for my job that my heart rate isn't going haywire over every little thing, but I don't want to be void of reaction. Funny enough my muscle memory of fidgeting and rolling my eyes when something takes too long was prevalent although internally I didn't feel so distraught as I have been the past few months. I'm curious at whether or not this will subside as time goes on. Important note, I had a mild headache all day, not sure why.

Day 3: Morning repeated itself, where I throw myself into a panic in the dead of morning (over something I actually can't remember anymore) until I took the supplements after getting out of bed. I took even longer to get up this morning; sometimes my insomnia does the most but I wonder if the supplements have any part in it? No way to know. Not sure if my taking them a little later also stalled them actually working by the time I started my day. I felt less attentive and fidgeted a lot more, but I didn't have internal knots toward anything that would normally bother me. I did a half hour of yard work so I'm not sure if that helped my mood? I was a little tired because of it but afternoon coffee perked me up. For the most part, today didn't seem to have the effect I wanted with the supps, but the fact that I don't feel wired up is still a win in my book. Today actually felt the way I used to before any little thing would overwhelm me. That's good but it makes me wonder why I strayed from that to begin with and why drugs is what's making me come back. One trivial thing to report, while desk-working I usually fidget with my phone because I get so anxious and impatient and need a detour, but it didn't happen this time when I left the phone on my bed.

Day 4: This morning I'll say I slept restfully even though I was awake in bed at the usual early hours, I didn't have much of a panic attack as I normally did but it's hard to say if the most stressful tasks are over or the supplements are neutralizing me more. I have the day off so there's not much to document on. I did yard work again and now the rest of the day is just... hanging out. Worth noting, with a social thing I have to do monthly, I usually get knots leading up to it. But I realized I didn't get knots at all for it today. Not even just thinking about it. My brain simply took it as something on my to-do list, as it should.

Day 5: In some parts of the day it felt like the anxious side of me was trying to get out to indulge in its habits wholeheartedly; I wanted to fidget with my phone or withdraw when dealing with a familiarly stressful situation, but because I didn't FEEL stressed in my body at the usual amount, I just worked through it. Like a parent ignoring their toddler's tantrum. I did still do some leg bouncing or phone-browsing but it was hardly to the extent it usually would be. All that being said I don't like I was doing even a LITTLE more of my negative traits even though it wasn't debilitating. I hope that it doesn't get worse to where I'm back at square 1 despite the supps.

Day 6: I woke up pretty well-rested I think; I yawned but I didn't feel tired. I wonder if it's just suggested to eat with the supps, because I'm not hungry enough in the morning to try and eat. I did yardwork again and almost finished what I planned this whole week but then I saw maybe six wasps floating around after I pulled out a part of the brush. Since I don't have anything to repel them I'll have to admit defeat to finishing in the time I planned. That being said I think the supps really helped in me fulfilling as much as I did; usually I can get super anxious with starting something that I just won't do it at all or I'll heavily stall on it. It's like, the job itself is strenuous but I'm able to deal with it. The rest of the day I fidgeted some, but again it wasn't at the extent it normally is, I was still able to focus without being stressed or needing to withdraw. I'm very pleased just with the fact that my chest doesn't ache because of my ongoing anxiety! I'm willing to continue taking the supps just for that alone... after I finish the bottle I'll have to read into any long-term effects.

Day 7: Today's a Saturday and I'm tired, most likely because of my insomnia. Today will be a slow day. My body feels relaxed so it works out. Usually I'm all wired up because I keep thinking about things I'm "supposed" to do; but whether because it's not too significant in the end or because I'm medicated, I'm fine with how I feel today. This mellowness is very familiar but I also can't remember when I've felt this. I've missed it, I love it.

Day 8: Day started off pretty badly. I went to bed really late last night but I still woke up after 6 hours because of my body clock. On top of being exhausted and unable to get my energy up for anything, I had digestive problems that felt like blockage and I'm not 100% sure why. Hopefully it doesn't require me to stop the supplements. It goes without saying that the supps did little to nothing to help me work through that discomfort which pokes holes in consistency. The other half of the day I was out with relatives and I actually felt good, not tired at all. If the supps have to work with me moving around then I'm kind of doomed. I wanna be able to relax WITHOUT my brain going a million miles an hour. This day gets a grade C.

Day 9: Today was rough. I was really close to not taking the supplements because I felt blocked up again but then I was afraid that I'd feel worse if it was helping my mood. Turns out it did nothing to take them. I was fidgeting and getting anxious and irritable for little to no reason all over again. I felt awful and I couldn't bounce back like I had been for the past week. I can only assume that my body got used to the supps that they don't work anymore, which has happened before. I'll be taking a break from them tomorrow to see if it fixes anything. It sucks so bad. Today is a grade C-.

Day 10: Day of usual mannerisms without the supplements. I fidgeted a lot and bounced my leg for hours while working. Blood pressure predictably went up when dealing with a stressful situation and I couldn't come down for hours. I didn't withdraw myself as much as I normally do but I wanted to. My digestive issues seem to have gone away, but there's no telling if holding off on the supps actually helped. I'll go back on them tomorrow, and hopefully I'll fare better than today. I didn't think my anxiety effected me this much. I want to mellow out again so bad...

Day 11: Morning started with irrational anxiety in the early hours. I took the supplements but it didn't seem to help as much as it did when I started. I fidgeted a lot and my leg bounced like crazy and I couldn't stop for more than a minute even though it was sore. I was easily irritated and it got to my gut a few times. That being said my gut did feel more calm than the rest of my body. I'm not sure what that means. I'm trying to think rationally about how my day went, if I'm thinking the supps worked somewhat or if I was in a rare middle ground between my ADHD symptoms and actually being zen. I'm going to take another break from them tomorrow.

Day 12: A VERY trash day. I wasn't feeling great to begin with because I made myself mad about something having been wide awake at 4 in the morning and going down a rabbit hole of things that made me upset. But the day went on even worse with everything putting me on edge. I had to keep my composure multiple times and didn't have the time to step away to burn off the pent-up stress. My insides hurt from the anxiety, I couldn't keep my phone down for a minute because I kept getting impatient, and withdrew myself multiple times when I lost interest in the phone. I was in fight mode the entire day and I felt horrible, I even relapsed I was so stressed. My morning set the rest of the day's faults into motion, but I feel like I had the same type of day last week when I was taking the supps; last week I didn't have it in me to care because I was so relaxed. I'm sure the supps could have saved me. Hopefully they save me tomorrow.

Day 13: Took the supps again and I was only half as wired as yesterday. I fidgeted and bounced my leg as much as yesterday. But even if I got aggravated and withdrew myself from things, my insides weren't turning this time. So I felt overall the same except there wasn't pain, just distraction.

Day 14: Took the supps a few hours later than usual. Since it's the weekend there's not much to report because I'm not interacting with anyone/anything.

Day 15: I didn't take the supplements because I woke up late in the day and I was preoccupied playing a video game for hours on end.

Day 16: Took the supplements in the morning. Lots of leg bouncing and messing with my phone when I was losing focus with the main task. There were a few rather irritating moments but I was able to find my center again pretty quickly. Not too much internal pain that also couldn't be resolved quickly.

Day 17: A little better for focusing but the day itself gave me a pretty good break. Otherwise, same as yesterday.

Day 18: Didn't take the supps because I had a dentist appointment and just forgot, how ironic. I also figured that since half of my day wouldn't be for work, which is why I'm taking supps in the first place, I'd hold off anyway. That being said I really do think they're tied to my digestive system, for the worse. Skipping days is kind of the only solution for my body to function like it has to. Also whether it was because I only spent half the day at work or maybe the pace of work was just low-maintenance enough, I felt pretty calm. I even had a client accusing me of giving attitude just because I wouldn't change my answer or underwhelmed tone to something she liked and I didn't even have an internal reaction to it like I normally would; like I would usually feel guilty for "making" someone think that way of me even if I was in the right, so that was pretty good. I think I still had a lot of leg bouncing tho.

Day 18: Took the supps, same vibe as day 16. I tried doing yardwork and I was able to see the wasp nest, it nearly looks like a leaf!! I hope I have the strength tomorrow morning to douse them in the soap water so I can finally finish the brush. I have to mow the lawn this weekend.

Day 19: Didn't take the supps today to avoid possible digestion issues, but now I'm wondering if I'm just not eating enough lately? It's hard to say, especially right now because my teeth hurt from my recent ortho visit so I'm eating little already. I finally did more yard work after throwing soap water on the wasps. Going off topic for a minute I low-key feel bad I had to end them; they were smack dab in the middle of the brush before I started cutting it down (which is miraculous that I was able to do as much as I did without getting stung), and it was made of all different plants and smilax practically making a fortress around their leaf-sized nest. But that's how life goes. Back on topic I had a really hard time focusing on work, all the usual habits at max operation which I wasn't proud of but at least I didn't get the painful anxiety like I usually would, I just didn't want to be where I was so kept having to redirect myself. It'd be nice to think that with the supps curbing my anxiety so many times that my body doesn't remember to react with it. Even with this morning when my sibling got distraught that her day program was cancelled I didn't blame myself over what I couldn't control like I usually do (that part could just be me in a better environment but it's worth noting to look back on). I'll rate today a C+

Day 20: Insomnia did its thing and I dozed in and out of sleep so took the supps late morning. This has nothing to do with the supps, but it was good cloudy weather to motivate me and finally finish taking out the brush in my yard, I'm so glad it's over. But it looks like the holy trinity of poison plants had been thriving, which explains the rash I got before and hopefully I didn't get it on me again. Looks like I did it for a better reason than just getting rid of the overgrowth. Now I'll get to focus on just mowing the lawn tomorrow which should also be in cloudy weather. Back to topic it's another weekend so not much to report. I'll say that in my hours of wrestling with sleep I was feeling on edge the way I do when I'm impatient, I think if I held off on taking the supps today despite being the weekend I'd find too many things to be aggravated about since the feeling started so early. Whether or not that would actually happen there are more pros for me to take them if it means calming my nerves.

Day 21: Didn't take the supps because I mowed the lawn first thing in the morning. I didn't eat or drink so it was pretty hard on me, I hate cutting grass. I was too physically exhausted after finishing, so everything in my day was done slowly and taking supps felt pointless because of it. Hard to say how I honestly feel mentally being "off-meds" but I guess there is one point to make; I got a phone call with news that irritated me because I don't like the person but I didn't get too enraged about it. And right when I say that- I get another phone call from the same caller and now I'm low-key enraged. The only thing that's saving me is that they're not calling to spout BS again. But boy is it hard for me to think critically right now I'm fuming. Guess it's just a day where stuff happened and it ended on a sour note...

Day 22: I took the supps a little later today just to see if it would help me with my digestion issues. I really can't tell. I started cramping today so everything feels painful regardless of what's going on, no better no worse. My reaction to inconvenient things hasn't been too bad, but again my cramps sort of evens out any other pain I could feel. At least it was manageable.

Day 23: Didn't take supps because the cramps got worse, as they do by the second day. I tend to fast with sips of coffee to be on the safe side. I couldn't tell if my day was worse without the supps because my cramps already make the day. I did fidget a bit and had to mess with my phone and spaced out, but as usual I'm more interested in my nerves not going haywire. I'm not sure how many of the supplements I have left but it seems they're inconsistent for me. I'll still take them as a potential mood stabilizer, I love not being on edge all the time.

Day 24: Took supps a few hours after waking up to give my digestive system a chance to function normally. I made a good call, but it made me wonder if it "functioning" is tied to my stress levels because that's what it felt like this morning particular; I made plans to get my car battery checked out and made myself nervous that something bad would happen while I was away- all of a sudden I'm going to the bathroom multiple times. That being said I don't feel all too different after the supps. I waited on a phone call that never happened and I hate phone calls so that sucked too. I got ice cream though.

Day 25: Second time taking supps later in the morning, it worked well again. I'll keep it up, even though it means I'm more at risk in forgetting since I'm not doing it first thing.

Day 26: Same as yesterday. Personal note, I got a horrendous headache after making and eating tortellini and nothing's helping it go away. Maybe it was too much dairy because I drank milk with it? I hope nothing's developing.

Day 27: Headache from yesterday took half of today to finally leave. I completely forgot to take the supplements. I'm sure there was correlation between that and my depressive mood after a phone call from relatives made me feel self-conscious. The mood got to a point that I wasn't willing to do anything, even taking the supplements to try and turn it all around.

Day 28: Took supps today, I also ate more of the leftover tortellini and a headache is forming. I didn't even eat that much of it. It's too bad because that alfredo sauce recipe was really good. Might be too much dairy- or maybe it's just the ricotta? Later I was in a pretty bad mood because of my Ndad aggravating me. It was rough having to control my anger as much as I did, I'm sure it would have been way worse if I didn't take the supps.

Day 29: Bad mood from yesterday carried over and made me feel pretty foul prior to starting my day. I took the supps first thing when waking up because I was already getting so angry at the world and naturally I was backed up because of it. Once again I had to work hard to control my anger, but it worked out pretty well when I eventually cooled off. That wouldn't have happened if I didn't have the supps to control my nerves, it saved me from getting stressed me out even more. The day itself was also pretty good, I give it an A.

Day 30: Didn't take supps because I took them so early yesterday. Day was good, I was hardly moody unlike yesterday. I even woke up with energy. Watching out for that one.

Day 31: Day was tough because I couldn't focus despite the supplements- but at this point I've established I'm taking them for my anxiety so it's not new. I'm sure it was the day itself just not working with me, at least I was pretty calm about it, just very uninterested. Unrelated, I learned the hard way what happens when you eat half an overripe avocado; partially related, the pain of it made my lack of focus worse. Not having the best luck with food lately! That's it, I'm ordering a pizza tomorrow...

Day 32: I ordered the pizza and it was good. No digestion problems on that front, while I took my supps at the usual late-morning. I felt tired out by the end of the workday, and it turns out my coworkers got a lot taken out of them this week too. So that makes me feel better with how little I've been able to focus, it's really has been because of the work environment. I do genuinely believe the supps made the day better, even if the day itself was crappy. This may be the most personal entry I've written. That would probably be the case for the next five days that remain for my batch of bacopa. Spoiler alert I have another but one more week would conclude the daily logs.

Day 33: No supplements because weekend and no events.

Day 34: No supplements because weekend and no events.

Day 35: Day started good, I wasn't even tired when I woke up. I took the supps later in the day, usual mannerisms but no anxiety internally.

Day 36: Self-sabotaged myself because I went to bed at midnight because I was so awake for some reason. Spent the day really tired so I kept off from the supps since they make me tired. Day was I guess alright despite that, I guess (too tired to think of all aspects).

Day 37: Forgot to take sups on my day off. Day went fine.

Day 38: Took supps because I knew I would be stressed by an uninvited guest. The encounter wasn't too aggravating but still annoying. Didn't focus on anything important to me because they were such an elephant to the very end. I was already thinking how much of my day they stole but I wasn't too up in arms about it internally.

Day 39: Writing this days later. Can't remember for the life of me if I took the supps or not. I want to say yes...

Day 40: Took supps but nothing big happened to report any effect, because it's the weekend.

Day 41: Woke up later in the morning, got sucked in to a video game. Didn't take the supps.

Day 42: Didn't take supps because I didn't have my usual morning bathroom movements and wanted to wait it out- took all day before anything finally happened but then the day was over. Day was fine though, but I did want to take them. I was pretty tired anyway because of sleep debt from the past few days so it's probably meant to be.

Day 43: Took supps first thing in the morning rather than waiting like I usually do, didn't seem to effect my digestion much so that's good. Felt impatient throughout work and even irritated although my performance was better. Worth noting that I didn't have the internal pain despite feeling pissy, can't tell how often I'm without when I'm on the supps.

Day 44: Didn't take any because I forgot. Day was okay-ish despite that. I underperformed at work a little compared to yesterday because I was more relaxed. I don't think that correlates with me not being medicated.

Day 45: Average day with the supps. Didn't focus at all because I was preoccupied with how my day wasn't going my way. Supps might have helped in keeping me from being too preoccupied with the day.

Finished bottle- with one pill left over.

#My posts #bacopa monnieri #Anxiety #Symptomatic adhd #nootropics

0 notes

theelvenhaven · 2 years

Text

Gone Too Far

Vanifinwë x Curufin

Important Warnings: Graphic Attempted Murder (literally), Strangulation, Abuse: Verbal, Name Calling, Bullying

2.4k words

Hányo - q. Brother

Ner - q. Elf Male

IMPORTANT AUTHORS NOTE PLEASE READ FIRST:

Due to the graphic nature of the fic I have chosen not to tag anyone. While it is not something that is gorey but attempted murder is attempted murder. It might be way too graphic for other readers. So I ask that you guys approach this carefully if this is something you wouldn’t consider reading to begin with. Everything is hidden under the undercut even though the beginning is soft.

* * *

Vanifinwë sat before the roaring hearth, a warm wolf fur blanket in her lap and a book in hand. Her brothers were gone for now while she sat comfortably in Himring, off to do whatever it was that required their attention. Perhaps related to the Siege of Angband, as it was not something she physically participated in.

The sounds of the hearth filled the room, logs and fire crackling and shifting down into ash slowly. Dancing with ferocity as the fire licked and lapped at the large chunks of wood within its grasp.

Between the heat of the hearth and the blanket around her legs, Vanifinwë was extremely comfortable. The harsh cold of Himring kept completely at bay for now, allowing her to only be in one layer for once as opposed to the two or three she liked to wear. The black velvet gown was thick enough already yet she chilled so easily since the Crossing.

Turning to the next page, Vanifinwë reached over to the side table grabbing her glass of wine to take a sip from it just as she heard the door to the study open. For a moment she paid no mind to the soul that had entered the room until Vanifinwe heard the unmistakable sound of the door locking.

“Are we hiding from Maitimo?” She asked with mild amusement, only seeing a small swath of blackened hair out of her peripheral, assuming it was Makalaurë who often kept her company when he was not busy with skirmishes or planning for their next assault. Yet she only heard the soft sounds of footsteps approaching leisurely,

“That bad that you’re not even answering Makala-” Vanifinwë paused holding her glass to her lips as she finally looked up to spot the face of her father staring back at her. A scowl on his face as simply clasped his hands behind his back, black hair swept down his back neatly with his circlet of silver crowned atop his head. Red tunic buttoned high upon his neck and thin black robes fell around him,

“Suddenly changed your mind about my branding, hányo?” She inquired, skewing a black brow up asking in reference to calling her a traitor. Her appearance rivaling that of Curufinwë’s as she too looked starkly like Fëanaro, and to Curufinwë that simply wouldn’t do. A traitor like her didn’t deserve to mimic the ner that raised them. He tsked harshly at her words.

“Hardly.” Curufinwë seethed, “Do not address me as if you are my family, torco.”

Vanifinwë’s brows went up as Curufinwë threw out calling her a troll!

“Oh! Is that what we are resorting to now? Name calling? Here I thought you were better than this.” She said in a grave voice, taking another sip from her wine, blue eyes focused on her elder brother. A fire lit behind them, ready to be on the defensive against him, again. Daily this became an occurrence, this fighting and bullying that he doled out like she was nothing to him.

“I shall as you continue to reside here in waiting as if you think you belong here. You are nothing but shit beneath my boot and you have no place here.” He replied easily, still the anger in his tone was unmistakable and Vanifinwë set her jaw tightly. Furrowing her brows deeply as she glared back at him,

“I am blood, I shall stay where I please Curufinwë.” Vanifinwë retorted back quickly, trying not to let her “brother” rile her up. It was hard when they had been close, him the annoyingly strict father figure in her life it seemed as her and Tyelperinquar were close in age. That and it didn’t help that he looked so much like Fëanaro only opened up old wounds when he disowned her.

“You may be blood but not even Atya considered you family. You have no fealty nor love for this family-”

“Do not tell me what it is I feel for this family hányo.” She hissed in return, setting her book aside and crossing her leg over her knee, gripping the armrest trying to restrain her anger. Feeling already as her hands began to shake with her every mounting ire.

“Oh I shall remind you daily until you are thrust from these walls. You have nothing, you are nothing, you are worth nothing. Get gone from here while you still are on the receiving end of my “kindness”.” Vanifinwe scoffed audibly at Curufinwë’s words watching as he moved to stand before the hearth, the stern look still on his face and only growing worse the longer this conversation was going on.

“You are not Maitimo! You have no place or right to tell me where I should and shouldn’t be Curufinwë! You are not King nor Lord of these lands to tell me what to do!” She hissed out in return standing from her seat, with her blanket falling to the floor before her feet. Holding the glass by the cup and not the stem any longer, watching as a smug smirk began to find his lips.

“I am still a Prince, Vanifinwë. While you are nothing but a title-less, worthless, insignificant nobody. No one here loves you Vanifinwë. They simply tolerate you and all have tired of your foolish efforts to make us turn on Atya.” Curufinwë continued approaching her slowly with his hands still behind his back, chest and shoulders back and out. His head held regal and high, forcing her to crane her neck to look up at him.

“And you Curufinwë are nothing but a fool trying to imitate a ner you’ll never be even half as good as at his best. But I suspect you’ll fall much lower and harder than Atya.” Vanifinwë responded holding herself up just as tall as Curufinwë even if she was shorter than him by several inches. Curufinwë released a heavy breath and the ire in his face had grown exponentially, Vanifinwë could see his hands shaking as he balled them up.

“Silence yourself, lest I make you!” He growled and this time Vanifinwë took a step further, pleased to see that nasty smirk off of his face. Readying to take her leave but not without the final word,

“I take no orders from the likes of you.” Vanifinwë sneered, “Make me if you want me to shut up so badly.”

For a moment, the tension mounted, so taut it was a breath away from snapping. Both staring back into each other's eyes and neither making the move to back down from the other. Vanifinwë was far from afraid of her brother, unlike their father he was a coward and that was all Curufinwë had ever been. That was all he would ever be to her.

“That is what I thought. You’re nothing but a coward.” Her lip curled up and Vanifinwë began to take the next few steps away from Curufinwë in no mood to continue this argument and hearing what other sniveling nonsense that might fall off his tongue.

Yet it seemed to happen much quicker than Vanifinwë could’ve imagined it going.

His hand suddenly snatched her black hair back with force, strands ripping from her scalp and her wine glass falling from her hand and shattering as she grimaced and grunted at the pulling. Immediately she reached behind her, trying to claw at his hand and grab at his wrist.

But with a sharper pull Curufinwë pulled her to the ground, leaving her to gasp out sharply in surprise before she crashed to the floor with Curufinwë climbing on top of her.

“Get off!!!!” She yelled, reaching her hands forward to shove at him as he leaned over. Vanifinwë’s feet were trying to shove her hips upwards to tip him off of her, but he was stronger even if it wasn’t by much.

Still he was silent, seeing red, going beyond wishing to show Vanifinwë what her place was to him and in this family she was no longer a part of.

Her fingernails scratching at his arms were fruitless as the thick velvet material protected them from her long square nails.

He simply fought against her arms, easily overpowering them and pulling them down where he could pin them beneath his knees with his full weight. Vanifinwë let out a cry of aggravation,

“Coward! Just hit me already!!!” She cried out!

Only a coward would leave her defenseless against his strikes if that was what this was about. It wasn’t like they hadn’t hit each other before, they were siblings after all, but this was certainly a new low.

“I said shut up.” He hissed bringing his hands to her throat where he wrapped them easily around her narrow neck and began to squeeze.

Vanifinwë scrambled beneath him, pushing against the floor as hard as she could and trying to pull her arms from beneath him.

Feeling his hands quickly growing tighter around her throat, taking gasping breaths and trying to call out for help. From anyone. A maid, a servant, a guard! It merely came out as a wordless cry that died quickly.

Panic swelling in her chest as she could feel the straining in his hands as he continued to squeeze harder.

Mouth gaping, yet no breath came in or out.

Terror seized her heart as it pounded furiously in her chest, feet kicking harder at the ground as she pulled again for her arms to be free.

The pain of the weight of him was nothing compared to the burning in her lungs that she couldn’t fill with air to alleviate it.

Black dots scattered across her vision, face turning red, her kicks slowing but she was trying to use more of her strength than quickness to roll him off of her.

Freeing a hand that she brought to his hand that was wrapped around her throat.

Fingers clawing and digging into his skin viciously drawing blood that dripped and dribbled onto her.

Curufinwë only seemed to squeeze harder.

Tears welled and spilled over, as her life quickly flashed before her eyes, and the reality that her brother was going to kill her set in.

Then suddenly she deeply and painfully filled her lungs with air as he released her throat.

Her free hand gently came to rest against it to be doubly sure she was free to breathe, eyes quickly going to Curufinwë who looked unnervingly satisfied as he didn’t budge from atop of her. Quickly she cast her gaze away, finally to Curufinwë the submission she had so stubbornly refused to show was now shining through.

Vanifinwë couldn’t control the suddenness of tears that sprang forth in a deluge beyond her own volition, her chest ached from every breath that she took and her heart continued to pound heavily.

When Vanifinwë opened her mouth to speak, or cry out for help… Whichever came first Curufinwë simply clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t learn your lesson.” He tsked and he heard her swallow thickly at his words, goosebumps rising on her skin.

“You will leave Himring, you will say nothing more of betraying Atya and you will tell none what has happened here.” Curufinwë growled out, pressing his hand hard against her mouth, hearing her breathing quicken between fear and still she was trying to catch her breath.

“I’m not the coward you think I am.” The threat was there, subtly. One that promised he would finish what he started if she refused.

“Consider this a mercy but it will not last. Are we clear?” His voice was too even, too cool and collected despite the strain he must have been under. Despite the fact that he was going to kill her… His own blood. His baby sister.

Vanifinwë blinked quickly as the tears streamed out, slowly nodding her head to the best of her ability. Afraid to even utter the smallest squeak in fear of retaliation from Curufinwë… Hate settled in the pit of her stomach as she stared up at him.

She hated him, absolutely despised everything about him. Always had he been a nuisance, but this… He was a coward. Without a doubt and this simply proved it, but never again would Vanifinwë make the mistake of speaking to him again or seeing him again.

Finally and slowly Curufinwë pulled his hand away, testing to see if she would release even the softest of cries for help. But she didn’t, with no grace and every intention of hurting her further, he sat back on her knees. Crushing her arm before he got up to stand, pressing his boot against her stomach as he walked across her.

Vanifinwë held in the cry she wanted to release, only balling up in the floor to hold her stomach to try and stop the pain.

She simply listened to the sound of the door unlocking, opening and shutting.

Quietly she cried, before sitting up slowly and looking around the room.

The rug was stained with red wine, with glass shards sprawled across the floor glittering in hearth and Anar’s light and the chair had been knocked out of the way. Black strands of her hair were on the floor around her and blood was on her fingers and beneath her nails.

Her thoughts were disoriented and racing, barely able to piece together what to do until she caught the sight of the glinting mirror.

Shakily she stood to her feet, stumbling some and her head feeling light and dizzy. Nausea came in a beastly wave and she repressed the urge to vomit. Taking another deep breath trying to repress the urge back. Praising Eru that she was alive to take this very same breath she had now.

Vanifinwë carefully walked over to the mirror and caught sight of herself…

Black hair was tangled and disheveled from where she had struggled against Curufinwë… His blood on her throat in a perfect ring across it… To go with the bright red splotches from where his hands and fingers had pressed into her.

Painfully, she swallowed thickly, not stopping the tears as they came. Looking away from herself.

An exit plan was needed from Himring and a way to cover these bruises. No one could ever find out about this she decided, Curufinwë was right. Vanifinwë didn’t doubt that he would kill her if they found out. Any shred of uncertainty that she would’ve had before was gone now.

It was undeniable.

Vanifinwe would wear high collared dresses for the next few days while she packed. Her neck wouldn’t fully heal before she left, she wouldn’t wait that long.

She simply picked up the blanket from the floor and wrapped it around her shoulders, covering her neck before hurrying from the study. Readying to change and hide away for the day while she prepared to leave.

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it-was-summer · 3 years

Text

Video Killed The Radio Star - Chapter 2 (Spencer Reid x Reader)

A/N: I’ve gotten so much positive feedback and a lot of people seem to like so I am so happy to share another chapter with you all! In this chapter I will put Asterisks (***) before anything that might seem triggering to some viewers just to give you all a heads up! I would also like to add that virginity is a concept made by man and if you are/aren’t one that is valid as hell!- much love, Em❤️

Warnings: torture, blood, cursing, distributing individual / content, sex talk, sensitive material ahead.

Plot: The team works to find you before the situation escalates, you spend time in a less fiery version of hell.

Word Count: 2.2k

“This girl made my job easier,” Garcia was logging into your computer with a smile “, It was never difficult, but now I get to skip a few tiny steps.” She was searching through your emails, looking for any messages that could have been from your stalker, there was nothing so far. So she moved to your phone records, unknown calls, texts, anything that could help.

She did find one call from an unknown number that had left a voicemail a few minutes before two in the morning on the night of your abduction, but the only thing that she could get from it was the sounds of sobs before the line goes dead.

The rest of the team was combing your apartment in Richmond. The most impressive thing about this whole case was how you knew something was going to happen and the evidence you left behind for them. Sticky notes decorated your desk, labeling everything from your passwords to the gifts your stalker had left you. Another thing that shocked the team was seeing photos of almost all of them, you didn’t get one of Garcia, with little sticky notes next to them.

The sticky notes contained little comments like “Fine as hell,” that one was for Reid, Morgan teased him about it before he looked at his own picture that had the note of “Arms?? Yes?”

It seemed like you had a sense of humor that you didn’t let on in your videos. It made Prentiss laugh, but as soon as she did her eyes looked down at the carpet, seeing a single rose petal near your nightstand. Instead of being red like all of the others, it was the pale color of pink. “It looks like the Unsub is in love with her,” she bent down to pick up the petal with a glove “, or whatever their demented version of love is.”

Reid was focusing on the books, you had a tiny library growing at your house filled with classics, some fiction, others nonfiction. He took note that you already had copies of the Brontë sister collection in your library, and they looked slightly worn down. He couldn’t help but wonder why the Unsub would give you books you already owned. Was it just for their notes? Why couldn’t they use the copies you already own?

Hotch tore Spencer away from his thoughts “The bed was neatly made and there are no signs of struggle, indicating that our Unsub probably made the bed and had time to clean up.”

“Or that she was too afraid to sleep, either way, they probably drugged her and got her out of here as fast as they could,” Prentiss added as she searched the bed for any other evidence.

Reid hummed as he watched Prentiss flip pillows over “It could have been someone she knew, a friend maybe?”

“We can’t rule out anything.” Hotch said as he looked at his wrist for the time “Ried, go with Morgan to the library. Prentiss and I will visit the family.”

***

March 6, 20XX

The night of your abduction you were sitting on your couch, holding one of the decorative pillows close to your chest as you watched the black screen of your television. You felt numb, after you recorded your video you broke down. It started off as crying and then slowly developed into a panic attack, but now you were on your couch trying to think about anything but this horrible situation. You glanced over at the time seeing it was nearing two in the morning, you had already called your mother. She told you to come home and you said you would in the morning.

You couldn’t think about her right now, you started to cry, finding it surprising that you still had enough water in your body to cry again. Sobs escaped your mouth, then something pricked your neck and the world was gone.

When you woke up it all felt so soft. You felt like you were laying on the softest bed ever created, your eyes fought against you, opening slowly in fluttering moments. The room was illuminated in a wondrous pink light, you smiled in your drugged state before it all registered. You suddenly felt hot, on fire, everything was on fire. You attempted to sit up on the bed, slipping back down with a yell, red rose petals flying up around you as you collided with the bed. You carefully sat up, looking down at the bed, if you hadn’t just been kidnapped you would think was romantic.

You tried to pull your legs up to your chest, but you screamed out in pain. Your eyes darted around the bed, in a terrified attempt to stay calm as you looked down at your leg. Bile found its way into your throat, burning in your esophagus as you looked down at your snapped ankle. You vomited off the side of the bed, your body shaking vigorously.

“Catherine,” A terribly sweet female voice spoke, “ My sweet Catherine, you’re awake.”

You coughed lightly before spitting the rest of the vomit out of your mouth, turning your head to look towards the sound of the voice seeing a familiar and beautiful brunette woman smiling over at you. “My name isn’t Catherine,”

“Yes, it is. You’re Catherine Earnshaw, Jane Eyre,” she walked closer, her hair swaying to and fro gently “ Hell, You’re Emma Woodhouse and I am,”

“Crazy, you’re fucking crazy!” you screamed.

“I’m Heathcliff! I am Mr. Rochester! I am Mr. Knightley!” She screamed back at you, her happy demeanor changing in a second, rage decorating her face for a simple second before she let out a calming sigh and smiled once again. “I’m sorry, my sweet, I didn’t mean to scream at you like that. I love you.”

Tears were streaming down your face as you nodded, slowly “You love me,” too afraid to speak out against her again, you nodded through your tears.

She sat on the edge of the bed, that you were slowly realizing was indeed heart-shaped. She reached her hand out, you flinched feeling it land on your head, her hand petting your hair gently.

March 8, 20XX

Morgan was smiling a considerate smile across the table at one of your coworkers, Noelle. She was a pretty blonde, had a sweet smile. The only thing they got out of her was that you were single, her eyes stayed on Reid when she said that, and that you were nice to everyone. Baked for people on their birthdays, or days they were struggling, you were… you are considerate.

Reid hated to admit that the nicest people always seemed to capture the attention of the most dangerous people. Unwanted, cruel, attention.

Spencer excused himself, stepping away to take a look around the vast library. There was a small cafe in the corner of the library, it was possible that the unsub first met you here, checking out a book or something of that kind. He went back to Noelle, “Would you say that Y/N had admirers?”

“Not really, but there was something in December,” she let out a soft sound as she gathered her memories “,this woman came in, beautiful, said she knew Y/N from college or something. It was a weekend so she wasn’t working, but uh she was nice, wanted to buy Y/N a Christmas gift, and asked what she would like. Y/N likes roses, she likes romantic stuff so that’s what I told her.”

Morgan’s eyes widen, holding back his comments as he thanked Noelle for her time before turning back to Reid “A Woman?”

Spencer nodded, trying to make connections in his head. The books and the roses made sense, why the blood-soaked panties? The roses because of what Noelle said, Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre were classic romance books. He had read them both, but he wanted to see your new copies of the books, your annotated versions.

As for the blood-soaked pair of panties, his mind went to one thing, innocence. Assuming that you weren’t a virgin anymore the blood covering them would mean that your innocence was already taken from you. The unsub might’ve given them to you to remind you what you’d lost or to make the threat that you should have stayed a virgin, that you should’ve stayed innocent. However, despite your so-called ‘ruin’, it seems that she still loves you, hence the gifts.

Spencer assumed that the unsub thought that the two of you were connected through romance, maybe even a taboo type of romance. The romanticism of Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre made that fairly obvious to him, as well as the rest of the team. Red roses symbolized romance, while the pink rose symbolized admiration and grace, indicating that your relationship with the unsub could have been anything but new.

“Can we get a map of all of the florists in the area?”

***

You pressed your face into the cushions, it was a weekday and she had yet to come in. Heather, after a day or two you finally remembered who she was, Heather Alexander, she lived on your floor your freshman year of college. She was quiet, sweet, and, apparently, crazy. In college, she seemed less glamorous, wore glasses, had quirky hair, complete with a babyface. You used to invite her over whenever you would bake something sweet, till one day she was gone. Dropped out.

Now, almost seven years later, she seemed so broken. Living in a delusion, thinking that she was some hero or romantic interest of yours. The two of you were destined to be together, well that is until you live out the fate of Catherine Earnshaw and die.

You found it painful to cry at this point, you were so dehydrated and tired that you didn’t even try to force the tears out. It wasn’t that you were too tired to fight, well that was to be debated, you still had plenty of fight left in you. You were playing it safe, the thing that was holding you back from fighting was your mother. You couldn’t bring yourself to put yourself in danger, you needed to hold on to her, you needed to see her again and you knew she needed to see you again. So, you did what you thought was best, for now, lie in bed and feel numb.

It wasn’t that hard to feel numb, given that Heather had you hooked up to a morphine drip. You learned that whenever she was mad at you she would call you Emma, sometimes Jane, but for the most part you were Catherine. When you were Catherine, she would give you all the morphine you wanted for your broken ankle and when you were Emma or Jane she would ween you off till she saw fit. So if you were Catherine, you would feel numb, feel okay at least for now.

You were staring up at the ceiling, feeling especially stoic, when you heard keys jingle at the door. It opened, showing a glimpse of a regularly lighted room, fluorescent as ever, before leaving you and Heather in this disgustingly pink room. “Catherine,” she threw her keys off towards the counter in the corner of the room. You were too drugged up to think about an escape plan, too drugged up to do anything but stare up at the ceiling. It felt so desperately good to be numb, you barely noticed when she touched you, but as soon as you did her touch felt like fire. “Catherine,” she leaned in close, her lips meeting yours in a second. Heather kissed you with her eyes closed, you always kept your eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling waiting for her harassment to be over. You never kissed back and she didn’t seem to mind so long as she was enjoying herself.

Heather pulled away with a childlike grin “Did you enjoy yourself today? I wish I could have stayed with you, but duty called!” Your eyes traveled down to the name on her uniform, it was the name of a floral shop near your work, the roses.

Your speech was slow and slurred, causing Heather to reach over to the morphine drip, fixing it so you would get lower levels of the drug, but that wouldn’t start working for a couple of hours. Heather seemed to know that so she simply got up, walked away, grabbed her keys, and went towards the door “You can answer in a few hours. Till then, my Catherine.”

***

Prentiss watched your mother as she played with her hands, her mouth trembling as she spoke “Y/N called me when it all started,” she looked up, her eyes shifting between Prentiss and Hotch “I should have listened, oh I should have listened!”

“Mrs. L/N, you didn’t know this would happen. You can’t blame yourself here.” Prentiss offered comfort towards your mother only for her to let out a heartbreaking wail of pain.

“She’s all I have.”

Hotch and Prentiss were walking down the porch steps with a tin of chocolate chip cookies, a habit of her’s that you had picked up on. Prentiss looked over at Hotch, whose eyes betrayed him, she didn’t say anything about the look in his eyes. She knew that he probably didn’t want her to ask. She blew out a sigh as they got into the car

“Need a cookie?”

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gl0rious-purpose · 3 years

Text

Exciting and Fast Things (Loki x TVA!Reader)

Summary: Life at the TVA was boring. Of course, Loki had to be the one to spice up life there, specifically yours.

Word Count: 3214 Words

Author's Note: There is implied sexual content and light swearing, but there's not really a lot of details.

The TVA. The infamous Time Variance Authority. It was the only thing you had known since you were born. Or at least you were taught that. A man by the name of Mobius M. Mobius, who was obsessed with jet skis, had raised you as his daughter. He was kind, gentle, and very much dad material. You never really went to school, the knowledge just magically showed up as you got older. While you got older, your dad had discovered a variant. The variant had been killing minute men all across the timeline, causing a huge disruption in workflow.

The disruption mostly affected you. You worked as a file keeper and you had to constantly keep updating files as the minute men and women were killed and new ones were trained and brought in, minds clearly wiped. Well, in a sense. As far as you know, you were the only one who had been their your whole life, besides Mobius and Ravonna.

While you were working one day, an alarm started going off. It was on that didn't go off as often, but it piqued your interest. The light would flash whatever color an identified variant radiated. This one radiated green. Those who radiated green tended to be perfectionists, analytical, conceptual, cool, calm, inventive and logical. They could even be mischievous. The green ones were always rare, or at least that's what you thought. You've never met one. Well, that was until Mobius had identified the variant killing all personnel.

It was a Loki variant. Out of curiosity, you looked up the Loki variants on your computer. Most of the variants you saw were apparently "pruned." The one they had identified apparently was unlisted because you couldn't find on that was female, but seeing that all of them were fluid with sex and gender, you thought they had just shifted to a different form. As you scrolled through the files, one caught your eye. Loki Laufeyson, Timeline: 2012. You pulled the file up and scanned it. 2012? There's no way they're here now. As you read further, you found the status area. In bright red lettering read 'In Process Of Capture.'

Your thin brows furrowed lightly before returning back to their relaxed position. We capture them? You inquired mentally, not wanting a response. You shook it all off before closing down all the files and clearing the history. That was the number one rule when it came to computers in the TVA. You log in, get the information you require, and then you would clear out without a trace. You truly hated it, but it wasn't your place to complain about an extremely reasonable rule. Closing the area completely and locking it, you stared into the now dark area. I wonder if I'll ever meet on of these green Loki variants. You mused mentally, sighing as your keys bounced against your thigh as you made your way to your shared apartment with Mobius.

Several Months Later...

Months had passed since the Loki variant was identified. You've never seen your dad more excited than that moment. Well, besides when he met you and he got new jet ski magazines. You only got them because they made him happy, but you were more into motorcycles. Running the risk of getting thrown off an open bike at high speed just appealed to you. Maybe you liked the idea of it. Or maybe it was the thrill. One of these days, you were determined to ride one at least.

Today, however, was not one of those days.

A week ago, the minute personnel was able to capture the 2012 Loki variant. While The Avengers going back in time to break the timeline was fate, Loki escaping with the tesseract was not. You stood by the docking bay, waiting eagerly to see the green variant. Your dad had been so excited about this, he wanted you to be there. He wanted you to see that all the hard work paid off. Of course, you had to stay in a corner, far out of harm's way. As the portal open up, the minute personnel pushed the variant through. Your breathing faltered as you took him in. He was menacing, but in a good way. He was extremely tall. If he were to stand by you, he would've loomed over you like a giant. The idea made you shiver, not with anxiety, but with.. anticipation. You wanted that to happen.

A loud clink caused you to focus back in on what was happening. The personnel was unlocking his chains, leaving his mouth guard for last. As they dropped the chains, they looked at the guard before deciding to leave it on until they got to booking. You stared intensely at the variant. The almost viridian green suit flattered his form quite well. Instinctively, your mouth turned up into a smirk at his appearance, eyes flickering to the sudden movement. Mobius had walked up to the variant, clearly pleased with himself.

"Loki Laufeyson. Glad you could be here." Mobius spoke courtly to him, which caused the man in front of him to roll his eyes. If you didn't know Mobius, you would've thought he would've pruned him right there and then at the action. But that's the thing – you did know him. Mobius would rather work along side this variant and understand him better in person than removing him from the timeline completely. Mobius gave a smile and stepped aside to let the guards through. They walked swiftly, afraid that Loki might try something while not locked up. You staring must've been felt because suddenly his eyes flickered over to your location. If you weren't mistaken, you could've swore you saw a hint of mischief glimmering in his eyes. Once he was out of sight, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Oh my god...You couldn't help, but mentally swooned over the variant. You had to manually take care of your breathing as you tried to compose yourself as Mobius came over, huge smile plastered on his face.

"Wasn't that awesome?!" Mobius spoke in a breathy voice, overwhelmed by the encounter. You shot him a small grin, happy that he finally got what he wanted. He pulled you into a huge, bear hug, rocking you back and forth. Mobius pulled away, pressed a kiss to your forehead. He shot you a toothy grin before glancing at one of his own personnel. They gave him some type of gesture, you believe it was to indicate that the variant was ready to be interviewed and he nodded before looking back at you.

"Well, I better go over the variant's history. I'll send my findings up to be filed in a bit." You barely nodded at him before you saw him basically run out of there to get to the interview room. Back against the wall, you stood there for a couple minutes. You would've spoken to Mobius instead of giving simple gestures, but it felt like Loki had stolen your voice. Clearing your throat, you pushed yourself off of the wall and walked out of the docking bay to the files room.

As you got settled in and started to dive into your work, your mind kept wandering to the variant. He was just so hypnotizing and he had you spellbound. Without moving your head, your eyes glanced up at the personnel walking by as you remember somewhere in the file that said his mother – well, adopted mother – had taught him magic. Had he casted an incantation on you? You pondered on this for a while before rolling your eyes.

"We all know magic is incapable of use here." You muttered, internally scolding yourself at the thought. You reached over to grab a file you had to digitize and placed it in the scanner. As you watched the devices bar of light through the closed lid, you realized that you weren't going to get a moment without thinking about the variant. You groaned, sitting back in your chair as you waited for the scanning to finish. You thought this was going to be a long day like the rest. However, it was starting to change. A long day? This was going to be a long week.

Every work day went the same way, but it appeared Mobius was spending more and more time with the Loki variant. Please let Mobius get his work done with Loki. You internally pleaded this for several mornings as you watched him rush from the apartment to meet up with the God. You placed your hands on the counter as your hung your head, mentally exhausted from thinking about Loki. Maybe you should talk to him? You suggested to yourself as you took in a deep breath, looking up. As you looked up, a magazine caught your eyes. You slid your body over the counter as you reached for it, smiling at the motorcycle on the front.

"Great," you started, slightly sarcastically. "An excuse not to have to file dad's notes yet. Score!" You celebrated a little before grabbing your things and walking down to files. You were going to file those note whether you liked it or not, you were just going to make it the first thing you did. Walking out, you locked the door, juggling the items you had in your hands. As you swung your bag over your shoulder in the hall, magazine in hand, you heard minute personnel talking behind you, boots rapidly hitting the ground loudly.

"Did you hear? Mobius is actually trusting the Loki variant to roam the place." The first one spoke, clearly astonished. The other one scoffed behind you.

"I think he's definitely gonna help." The second one's snide remark made you pick up the pace a bit, eager to get away from the negativity.

"Yeah, help himself." The first guard replied in a snarky manner before they both let out demeaning giggles rang out, nauseating you. You swallowed the feeling as you picked up the pace and made it to files. Looking up at the clock on the wall, you saw you were extremely early. Maybe I can get more work done. You mused to yourself as you got the area unlocked and ready for business. Dropping into your chair, you turned on the computer and logged in. As it logged in and took you to the homescreen, you zoned out. Was Mobius really letting Loki walk around freely? You pondered on what the hunters had said, jumping at a file being dropping on the counter. You looked at the guard, who in turn looked at you apologetically, muttering a 'sorry' before scurrying off to their post. You shook your head as you grabbed the file and placed it on the scanner. By the way it was going, you could already tell it was gonna be a long work day.

As hours passed, by the fourth hour of work, you had already gotten all your work done. Even though time moves differently here, it could at least speed the fuck up. You thought, grumpily. Normally at this time, you would have more files coming. You had gotten a notification that no more files were going to come until tomorrow due to printing error. As you sat there, wondering what to do, you remembered your motorcycle magazine. Grabbing it gleefully, you eagerly started to flip through the magazine. As you read each page, you basically checked out if the world around you. In fact, you were so engrossed with the magazine, you barely noticed that Loki had walked up to the counter in front of your desk. He leaned over the desk, examining you, waiting for you to notice his presence. His eyes raked over your body, enticed with what he was seeing. You were the most ravishing person he had ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on. Gods, the things he would do to you if he had permission. He leaned further, not realizing you hadn't seen him. After a couple minutes, he decided to clear his throat to catch your attention. The sound startled you as you quickly closed the magazine and threw it under files, looking at the person briefly. As you adjusted yourself, you did a double-take of the person leaning comfortably across from you. You gulped, hoping your sudden nervousness wasn't apparent. He gave you a smile as he caught your eyes, easing the tensions, but causing your stomach to twist into knots. A sailor's knot to be specific, and it was quite uncomfortable. You turned your body more towards him, not realizing it allowed him to take you in fully. His blue eyes flickered down before they rose slowly back to yours.

"Hello, Loki Laufeyson." You spoke slowly, hoping your voice was as steady as you tried to make it. He hummed in response, scanning your chest for a name tag.

"Hello..." His voice trailed off, realizing he couldn't find your name anywhere.

"..None of your business." You finished his sentence, wanting to mess with him before you actually let him know your name. You couldn't imagine how wide his eyes would be when he learned who your dad was. You watched him suck in his cheeks, trying to figure out how to respond. His eyes closed as he head leaned back fully, allowed your eyes to slowly trail from the underside of his jaw to the bottom of his throat. It was the strangest thing, but you thought it was attractive seeing him like that. I'd like to see that more often. You chewed on your lip as some questionable thoughts came to mind. His head fell back down, face covered with determination.

"Excuse my manners. You know my name, but I don't know yours. What is your name? A woman as ravishing as you must have a lovely name.." Loki's voice seemed to grow deeper as the sentence trailed off, flicking his out against his bottom lip as looking you up and down again, hoping you noticed. Without warning, your cheeks grew a little hot. Your eyes flickered down as you tried to make your cheeks go back to their normal hue, mentally scolding yourself. Loki smirked mischievously at your reaction. He watched your head turn back to him, ready to respond.

"It's Y/N. Y/N Mobius." You paused as you watched the gears turn in his head before his mouth formed an 'o' shape. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. That was definitely not the reaction you were expecting, let alone the one you wanted.

"He talked about you. I didn't connect the dots that you were his daughter until now." Loki shrugged nonchalantly, giving you a warm, cunning smile. All you did was nod in response. Now that these foolish semantics were done, you decide to find out why he was really here.

"Anyway, why are you here?" You inquired, reaching over to clear the computer before logging off. You won't remember to do so after this conversation. You glanced over at him as he quickly put his words together.

"Well, Y/N, I came to see the prettiest person at the TVA." He stated his true intentions, watching your face intently for a reaction. As he watched you stare blankly at him, he realized you might've been oblivious to his flirting attempts. This is going to be harder than I thought. He grumbled internally, throwing a mischievous smile on.

"That would be you, darling." The nickname rolled off of Loki's silver tongue, making your stomach twist tighter. Ignoring the internal war, you have a quick smile before going back to just staring at him. Your unimpressed look threw Loki off completely. He breathed in deeply, realizing he'd have to change the subject to keep this interaction going. He needed this to work.

"Um, anyway... What were you reading? You know, before I distracted you." He wiggled his eyebrows at you, watching your eyes flicker to the finish pile of files. Sighing, you dug out the magazine and tossed onto the counter besides Loki's arms. He eyes the magazine, taking in every detail.

"It's a motorcycle magazine." You explained blatantly, knowing he knew what it was. He hummed in response before chuckling.

"Your dad likes jet skis and you like motorcycles. Huh." He pondered for a second before continuing. "How interesting." One of his brows raised as he looked up at you, intrigued.

"What can I say? We both are drawn to exciting and fast things. It's our passion." You explained, hoping Loki was going somewhere with this conversation. If he wasn't, you were very much prepared to go home and sleep. He looked down as he licked his lips, eyes peering back up at you through his brows.

"You know, I'm very exciting." Loki stopped his sentence, hoping he had captured your attention. Your attentive eyes stared back at him, head tilting slightly to the right. Make this good, Laufeyson...You internally urged him, eyes squinting slightly.

"And I can go as fast as you like." His eyes flickered to your lips before moving back up, sending you a quick wink as he laughed darkly. You laughed nervously, biting your lip as you brought your hand up to the computer, turning it off. Well, if he's interested. Loki watched you push yourself away from the computer desk, eyes dropping down to your thighs. As much as he tried to stop himself and half some self control, he stared at them, sizing you up a bit. He nodded as his eyes trailed back up your body again, this time he did it seductively, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. You walked over to him slowly, hands slowly sliding up his body before settling on his chest, palm towards him. Loki watched you, eager for your next moves. You moved your right hand to grab his tie, gently tugging him towards you. Leaning your mouth up against the corner of his, the corners of your lips turning up teasingly, eyes fluttering closed.

"If you're so confident about that, let's find out." You whispered to him seductively, reaching out and biting his bottom lip. Loki growled at you, roughly grabbing your hips as he hungrily pressed his lips to yours, his tongue making it's way quickly into your own. You moaned as he continued to battle your own tongue, wrapping your arms around his neck. His tongue grazed against the inside of your mouth, exploring every inch. Suddenly remembering you were out in the open, kissing a variant, you pulled away for air. As you briskly locked everything up, leaving the magazine on the counter, you grabbed Loki's wrist and dragged him back to the shared apartment. You looked behind, winking at him before he hurried to walk beside you, slipping an arm around your waist. The slyness? The mischief? The analytical skills? Loki was without a doubt a green variant, and you were sure his personal skills were going to keep proving that.

You weren't entirely sure of what was going to happen tonight, but you were very eager to let it happen. You just hoped Mobius was so busy talking shop with Ravonna that he wouldn't be coming home.

You can also read this fic here <3

#Loki #Loki One Shot #TVA #TVA AU #Marvel AU #Marvel One Shots #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Mobius M. Mobius #Angst #Light Fluff #Implied Smut

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light-yaers · 3 years

Text

No Saints: Chapter One

This content is explicit and is 18+

Warnings: Graphic sexual content, violence, implied effects of PTSD, death and explicit language.

Read on Ao3 here | Fic Masterpost

A/N: Hey everyone! So, after some consideration, I’ve also decided to post each No Saints chapter on individual Tumblr posts, as well as Ao3. I know some people like reading things on Tumblr and it must just seem easier if there are actual chapters uploaded to here as well. I’ll be posting them all over the next few days and then we’ll be all caught up!

This also means that I can now have a TAG LIST, so if you’d like to be notified for when Chapter Nine comes out, then please tell me and I’ll tag you when I update next.

Once again please excuse any small spelling or grammar mistakes. No beta we die like men.

Word Count - 7.3k

Chapter One

Working as a mechanic on Nevarro didn’t often gift you the visual of friendly faces, and that was no different with the Mandalorian—he never showed his face. You wouldn’t know his smile even if he decided to wake up one day without slotting Beskar all over his body.

But you knew his stance, the broadness of his shoulders, his preference for short range blasters with the safety close enough for his index finger to reach before firing at will. You didn’t really know people on Nevarro, but you knew their weapon of choice.

It was knowledge that had ended up being valuable, both to your survival, and to that of the Mandalorian.

“I’ll pay you for this information,” He offered bluntly. He never begged, nor did he show his true emotions within his modulated voice very often. The only vague emotion you’d seen him give off was anger—seething and insatiable— the first time he’d ever approached you for a repair.

“What good will this information give you?” You asked, genuinely. “I don’t know their names, this is hunter country. No one ever gives away their identity,”

“A weapon needs someone doing the firing,” He replied simply.

You agreed to his terms, partly from the initial fear that he would harm you, think you to be working against the Guild, but also from the generous sum he was willing to give you for every piece of information you passed onto him.

And thus, began a sort-of partnership that you’d never expected.

You were no saint. You knew the damage done by the goods you willingly sold to trained killers, assassins, Guild members. You saw the bodies dragged from their ships to the Guild, you saw the bounties that went out, kicking and screaming and spitting at their captors—

You saw the blood and dirt and flakes of flesh with every weapon upgrade or repair, but now, you didn’t bat an eye. It was business, it was your livelihood, and it was good money, thanks this this agreement with the Mandalorian that you’d made a while back.

Mando arrived back on Nevarro every few weeks. His condition was always subject to review; sometimes he flowed through your doors, ready for a quick exchange; other times, he took his time with it, sitting opposite you as you went through the recent repair logs, discussing the types of people that came through your doors.

Over the months, however, he always ended up sticking around for longer periods of time. Whether it was from earlier exhaustion, or the normalcy of having a conversation that didn’t end in bloodshed, you didn’t mind. He was the only constant in your life, splitting up your weeks and months when, before, honest interaction had basically been at zero.

“Are you not worried?” He asked one evening. It was late, and your shop was technically closed. You’d awoken to the subtle clicks of your entrance being lockpicked, hoisting yourself out of bed in nothing but your nightwear and grabbing the blaster you kept by your pillow.

You’d rushed to the shop front, aiming your blaster right at his chrome covered head. He’d raised his hands immediately, not once going for his own weapon. The feeling in the pit of your stomach as you lowered your weapon hadn’t been one of anxiety, but of warmth—he trusted you enough not to grab his weapon, not to even incline that he was going to shoot you.

“Worried about what?” You replied, flicking through the logbook.

“A bounty escaping, knowing that you shared this information,” You stopped flicking through the pages, freezing slightly where you sat opposite him. You sensed his sudden unease, deciding to look up directly into his visor.

“Tell me this, Mando,” You began. “What’s my name?”

He looked at you blankly, but you liked to imagine what facial expression he pulled beneath his helmet. In this moment, you imagined he was almost panicking, trying desperately to think back at what your name could be. It’d been over six months, yet names were never properly discussed. His silence proved that he’d just realised this.

“See? You don’t know it. My face is somewhat known here, sure, but my name? I try not to share it as much as you try not to show your face,” You sent him a raised brow smirk. Innately, you felt you had a responsibility to come across stronger than you looked, which is why you shoved down those subtle flickers of anxiety that arose from his question.

Sure, you had those doubts, anyone would. But living on Nevarro, doing what you did, it was an element of the job that you simply had to expect. You suspected Mando also knew that feeling well.

“You’re single-handedly keeping me in business, Mando,” You chuffed, almost sadly, but kept up an unbothered attitude. “I wasn’t going to turn this down and all these months down the line, no matter the danger, wouldn’t change that.” You ended, and you could have sworn you heard him breathe out, almost as if he was relieved that you knew these conditions from the beginning.

You kept flicking through the logbook, until you finally stumbled across a repair. “Here it is,” You perked up, shuffling yourself round so Mando could see the book over your shoulder. Your index finger grazed the page, just underneath the line he was looking for. “Repaired his blaster pistol last month. He didn’t look like a hunter, more like a scared blurrg, from what I can recall,”

“Young? Old?” Mando questioned.

“On the young side, definitely. Looked more like a runaway than anything else,” You added, feeling a strange pang of guilt in your chest. Usually, you divulged the weapon information of other hunters gone rogue, wanted by the Guild; assassins and thieves, or whatever other dirt washed up on Nevarro and in your shop.

This, however—you remembered him. He was young, he was scared, shaking like a newly born calf when he’d bumbled into your shop.

“That fits the bill,” Mando stated, before rising from his seat. You followed suit, making your way back round your front work desk and slotting the logbook beneath it. You tried to keep your expression blunt when you turned back to him, but you couldn’t help the wave of overthinking that landed in your brain.

You stared at him, leaning against the desk until your shoulders rose to cover your neck. You couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a sigh, but evidently that was enough for you to get the Mandalorian’s attention.

“What?” He spoke harshly, in the same old modulated boom you were used to hearing. You forced yourself to stay still, trying desperately to find his eyes beneath the abyss of his dark visor, but of course it was no use.

“Don’t break into my shop next time,” You diverted your emotions. “Just knock if it’s after hours,”

Mando nodded once, the moonlight gleaming off the chrome that surrounded his face for just a second, before disappearing once more. He shuffled a leather gloved hand through his satchel for just a few seconds, before approaching you at the work desk.

Unceremoniously, he placed your pay in front of you, each credit dropping with a small ping against the metal surface.

“See you,” Mando said bluntly. You nodded in return, before the Beskar covered man left your shop swiftly, shutting your door gently on his way out. You stared at the credits disapprovingly, before going to relock the door behind him.

You forced yourself to shuffle through your pay, counting the credits so you could note them in your budget, but you furrowed your brows as you finished rounding them up. You must have counted them wrong—there were an extra five hundred credits than what you’d agreed with the Mandalorian all those months ago.

Shaking your head, you went about recounting them, only to get to the same exact outcome. Was it an honest mistake in his counting, or had he overpaid you? Tipped you, helped you, heard the way your voice had almost faltered when you’d told him he was keeping you afloat?

You were awash with a new type of conflict—somewhere between thanks and extreme anger. The thanks were certain; he’d listened, and he hadn’t needed to do that, but he’d done it anyway. The anger; this implied you owed him now. As much as you’d come to enjoy his occasional visits every few weeks, the man was still an utter mystery to you. You didn’t want him to have the option of springing up in here and asking for a favour, knowing that he’d done one for you prior.

But there was still a warmth—it came subtly and out of the blue often, when you were around him. You could have slapped yourself at how fast it came this time round, taking you by surprise and speeding your heart rate up beneath your ribs.

He’s a bounty hunter. Get over it.

You placed your usual cut in your savings bundle, in the safe by your bed, but the extra five hundred stayed out of that bag. You shuffled back into bed with no indication of tiredness flooding over you again. All you saw in the static darkness of your grimy bedroom was the outline of that damn helmet—

And the wonder of what lay beneath.

The next week and a half was long and soul-crushingly slow. You’d had about three repair requests total, completing them all in a matter of hours, not making more than a few thousand credits from the sales. Nevarro had seemed restless recently, with less hunters returning to the Guild for more pucks. Maybe it was just a slow week.

Mando arrived back in the evening again, after you closed your doors early for the weekend. The sunlight trickled over Nevarro sparsely, but that evening was particularly warm, so you decided to have some fun.

Your shop had a back courtyard, nothing major, but you’d transformed it into a mini-firing range a year or so back. You were firing a classic blaster when you heard him approach from behind you—you jumped out of your skin at the sight of him, blaster raised, defensive stance donned.

“I told you to knock, Mando,” You boomed out, clutching your heart and switching the safety on your blaster immediately. Mando raised his arms in subtle apology, but you could have sworn you saw the subtle shake of his shoulders beneath the Beskar.

“You sounded... busy,” He spoke, and you squinted at him, feeling your cheeks flushing. The bastard was laughing. He was silently giggling beneath his helmet, the only indication of his lapse of stoicism being from the tiniest movement of his chest and shoulders, almost indecipherable.

You shot him an amused scowl. “Did you—,”

“I locked it,” He replied, already knowing what you were asking. You gulped down surprise at his immediate response, turning back to your makeshift firing range and trying desperately to calm yourself down.

Now, you were a strong woman, that was no question. But the constant mystery of the last six months in Mando’s presence had provided you with more than you’d bargained for. Was it a reflex to suddenly feel invested in this guy’s life after a while? To want to know his backstory, his missions, his favourite breakfast food or blaster style?

The extra credits from your previous trade had only increased these feelings. What was it about a man in a mask? Or, more specifically, what was it about Mando?

And now, as you awkwardly struggled with the safety on a blaster you’d been firing since you were twelve fucking years old, all you could think about was the tone of his voice as he’d said I locked it.

“You shoot?” Mando questioned, moving round to stand next to you. You shot him a smirk, trying to conceal the thoughts within your head.

“I don’t just repair blasters, if that’s what you mean,” You could have cringed at how cocky you’d sounded, but it was too late.

“Show me,” He spoke. He didn’t demand it, but the way his voice arched it was as if he could make anyone do anything he said, just from the steadiness of that modulated drawl.

You did as you were told. You shook off your limbs subtly, before flicking off the safety and aiming at the targets you’d made. In flashes of green, you hit one, two, three targets with ease, right in the centre of their bullseye.

You changed it up, feeling a surge of confidence, or perhaps the want to impress this stoic man. Skilfully, you flipped the blaster in your hands until it had transferred to your other hand, firing another three times on the same targets and hitting them dead centre once more.

Your index finger clicked the safety on, before you stood in place, admiring the shots you’d fired.

“Try this one,” He said beside you, before he plucked the blaster from your hand and replaced it with this own weapon. You looked it over as it slotted into your grasp. It was heavier than yours, bigger, with a more distanced safety, probably because of the hand width that the Mandalorian possessed.

You furrowed your brows at his blaster, smiling at the way the steel glinted. It was well cared for, polished and gleaming, but slightly worn away around the trigger. Well-used. His own personalised weapon.

You raised the blaster towards the targets, all too aware of the way that chrome helmet was tilted towards you. You steadied your arm, applying just the right amount of pressure against the trigger, before it fired in quick succession—

You analysed the blast fire, the weight, the wind, fixing your trajectory upon impact with the trigger in a matter of milliseconds. When you stopped firing, overseeing the new collection of burning holes in the targets, you realised you’d hit them all dead centre again.

To your delight, or to your utter amazement, Mando let out a low, long whistle from beneath his Beskar.

“That’s a custom weapon,” He spoke afterwards, moving to stand before you. “Not many people could change their shooting style like that to fit the blast radius,” It was the closest thing to a compliment that you’d ever heard him offer.

You stayed silent as he replaced his blaster with your own once more, sheathing his weapon before his visor looked straight into your soul. It was shameful, how you realised you could probably stand there and analyse the chiselled and curved edges of his helmet for hours, how if you focused strongly, you could see him breathing beneath his heavy armour.

You forced yourself to step back, looking back towards the shop. “Right—business,” You said, heading inside immediately with Mando following on your tail.

You dropped your blaster on your work desk, grabbing the logbook and getting ready to flick through it once more, before Mando spoke up.

“I seek no information today,” He revealed. You froze, before slotting the logbook back beneath the desk slowly, trying to wrap your mind around his reason for visiting you.

“Okay,” You said, upon rising from beneath the desk once more. All of a sudden, you remembered his money—burning a hole in the safe in your room. You perked up, slapping your hands on the desk for lack of what the fuck to even do before getting round to almost scolding this man. “Then, I have a bone to pick with you,”

Mando dropped himself onto his usual stool, flicking his cape behind him and leaning back in subtle comfort. You swallowed, trying not to interpret anything from his clearly at ease behaviour, before heading to your bedroom quickly.

“Not the first time I’ve heard that,” He spoke up from the shop floor, and your heart skipped. Was that an attempt at a joke? At some comedy? You had to stop yourself, as you got to the floor and riffled through your safe for his overpaid credits, from allowing a warmth to spread through your gut.

You wanted to curse, as loud as you could. Had it really been that long that you were getting flustered over words from a Mandalorian? Undoubtedly the most hostile and unwelcoming people the galaxy had?

Or, was it just Mando himself that had you overthinking every sentence, every visit?

Credits secured in your fist, you made your way back out to the shop, dropping yourself opposite him and grabbing his arm suddenly, not stopping to think that this man could probably break you in half with his bare hands.

You dropped the credits in his gloved hand, sitting back as he stared at the pellets he now cradled in his palm.

“Not what we agreed,” Is all you said in explanation, picking up a tankard of water and sipping some down your throat, for lack of knowing how to cover up your neon cheeks after the exchange. The weather. It’s just the heat.

“I upped your pay,” He retorted.

“Bullshit, Mando,” You retaliated, allowing a few chuckles to escape your lips. Your face softened then, as you looked over to him, sitting awkwardly, still not knowing what to do with the returned credits. “Your money is your money, Mando. I’m fine with what we agreed,”

His fingers finally clasped around the credits, as his body went back to relax against the wall once more.

“Your shop,” Mando began. “You said I keep you in business,”

“That doesn’t mean I want more of your credits. Owning a washed-up weapons repair shop on kriffing Nevarro isn’t ideal, but neither is being a bounty hunter,”

“You’d earn more as a hunter with the way you shoot,” Mando replied instantly. You perked your brow, sending him a small smile.

“Are you saying I’m not a good weapons mechanic?”

You almost burst out laughing with the way Mando straightened himself, immediately being on edge. His fists tightened, almost as if he was suddenly overthinking if he’d insulted you or not.

“N-no,” He partially stuttered out, but you couldn’t keep your laughter contained. You burst out in giggles, overseeing his complete lack of sarcastic understanding. It was endearing; it made him appear more human.

“Joke, Mando. It was a joke,”

He relaxed after that once more, albeit more hesitantly. He went to slot the credits back in his bag placed on the floor, and as he did so, you allowed yourself to indulge. Beskar gleamed as he leant down, showing the twist of his torso and outlining strong triceps on the small amount of him that was unarmoured.

His neck was slender, compared to the size of his helmet. You wondered how the hell he wore that thing constantly. It didn’t look light, nor did you expect it to be all that comfortable.

If he saw you gawking when he rose once more, he didn’t make any indication of noticing. To avoid revealing what you’d been doing, you moved to cross your legs as a save. “So, why’re you here?” You finally asked, remembering that he had no reason to have visited you.

Mando tensed up slightly at your question, but not enough to come across as surprised. He’d already admitted to not needing information from you today.

“Habit,” He replied honestly. His one-word answer cut through you like a knife, striking your core and filling it with that warmth one again. It wasn’t often that you felt exposed, but sat opposite him, in your home, hearing him be so unapologetically honest had simply made those thoughts rise to the forefront of your mind once more.

You wanted to know him, but you also knew that asking him these things would result in nothing good.

You forced yourself to swallow down these rising wants, to push them away completely, before putting on a small smile. “That’s a funny way of saying that I’m your only friend,”

All effort to force those feelings away dissolved, as soon as you heard the low, modulated chuckles from beneath his helmet. They floated through the room, along with the image of his shaking shoulders and tight chest as his laughter tumbled to the floor.

You felt your cheeks flush immediately, knowing that it would be a noticeable blush. You grabbed your tankard, bringing it to your lips as you continued to indulge in looking at him, as he calmed down from the small burst of laughter that he allowed himself to show you.

There was something pulsing within you that you simply couldn’t contain; that want; that desire, after so long without knowing anyone on this godforsaken planet. Before you could stop yourself, words were already tumbling from your mouth.

“I don’t see many people on this planet, besides you,” You admitted. Mando slowly turned his visor to you, making it known that you had his full attention.

You immediately felt too vulnerable, resulting in you standing from your seat and heading round to your work desk, slamming the tankard down on the top. “It’s... well, it’s nice. I hope that, even if you don’t need information, you continue to come by,”

You held your breath as soon as you stopped talking, too afraid that you’d overstepped a line. Not that this transaction with him had ever been professional, but you knew Mandalorian’s were inherently focused on their job, and their job only.

When he didn’t reply, or move, or do anything, you started to panic. You played it off as best as you could, by downing the rest of the water in your tankard and averting your gaze to beneath your work desk, like you had the immediate need to start taking inventory.

Mando rose a few moments later, grabbing his satchel and placing it over his shoulder. The breath caught in your throat as he approached your desk. You almost gasped as a gloved hand reached for your forearm, dragging it out to hover in front of him.

He dropped the five hundred credits into your palm as your eyes flicked over his helmet at light speed. He stepped back, removing his grip from you and placing his visor upon your face one last time, before turning on his heels and heading for the door.

He unlocked it, but didn’t open it. You felt your pounding heartbeat as he cleared his throat.

“It is,” He let out lowly. “Nice.”

The door swooped open and shut behind him gently before you could say anything in return.

He didn’t come back the next week. You wondered if you’d scared him off, if your tiny confession of enjoying his company was too much.

You thought back to the way he’d said the word— Nice— as if it wasn’t something that was often spoken in his vocabulary. For a man of little words, you were increasingly amazed at how he managed to convey things with his body alone, being weighed down and covered up by Beskar at all times.

The credits still weighed on you. You’d given them back to him, you’d made yourself clear, but then he’d given them back and left without a trace.

You prayed to some god out there that it wasn’t a Mandalorian way of saying goodbye. From what you knew of Mandalore, which was very little, you knew they weren’t the gift giving types, but it still made you think.

Yet all that he’d done, despite the deal, the trade of information and the abrupt middle of the night awakenings, those small attempts at light-hearted banter and void visits had given you just a shred of hope.

People on Nevarro were cut-throat, you knew that better than most after making your home there for so long. That’s why this shook you to your core, sparking this unlikely partnership with someone such as Mando.

Stars, you missed him. It sounded ridiculous when you said it in your head, but you did. Contact was little to none on this planet.

You didn’t speak more than a sentence to people needing repairs. You didn’t sit down and talk, and fuck, the loneliness was something you were used to— yet six months of regular meetings, even just to trade information, had offered you a warmth you hadn’t realised you’d missed—

Until he was gone.

It wasn’t until three weeks later that you ventured out of the shop, certain that you were going mad. You hardly frequented the bar at the entrance of the city, choosing to stay safe and locked away in your small isolation inside the shop, but the absence of people was sucking you dry.

You entered the bar, making sure not to seem out of place. It was still an odd feeling, seeing people sitting around and drinking. You knew a lot of the locals— returning customers for repairs, all of which were hunters.

Perhaps there was some unspoken understanding that you weren’t to be touched, as the small nods of hunters hit you when you accidentally met their eyes. It almost made you feel known, but at the same time you hadn’t felt much since that last conversation with the Beskar clad hunter.

You were heading towards the bar when a voice rang out behind you. “Miss!” You swivelled on your heels, hitting his eyes.

It was Greef Karga. You knew him, everyone on Nevarro did. He was the Guild contact here, the one that most hunters got their pucks from for the next job.

“Karga, hello,” You replied, not politely, but not harshly. Being polite got you nowhere on Nevarro, and you knew that despite his smiles and willingness to be friendly, Karga was a snake in the grass.

“Drink?” He questioned, and you found yourself accepting his offer. You made your way to his booth, slotting yourself in opposite him. He grabbed a bottle of blue liquor from the floor by his feet, clicking at the droid behind the bar for glasses. “What brings you here? You don’t usually venture from your establishment,”

You regarded him, all too aware of the blaster on your hip for safety.

“Slow few weeks. Fancied a change of scenery,” You replied bluntly.

“Ah yes, business is slower than usual currently,” He admitted. A droid placed two shot glasses on your table, scuttling back to the bar. Karga swiped them towards him, uncorking the bottle and filling up both glasses. “But your repairs are stellar, and I hear your custom blasters are best sellers,”

He dragged a glass towards you, which you took once he’d taken his hand away. You swilled the liquid around, trying not to look too despondent.

“Parts are sparse,” You admitted. “Fewer hunters need new gear. I’m starting to think there’s someone better than me on Nevarro,”

Karga let out a coarse laugh, which you first mistook for a chesty cough. His smile was indication enough, however, of the funniness he obviously though that required.

“No, my dear, there’s no one better,” He replied. You chose to ignore him calling you dear. Opposite you he raised his glass to the sky, prompting you to do the same. “To good business in future,”

You nodded at him in response, before downing the blue liquor in one gulp. It burned as it slinked down your throat, hitting your stomach and causing a warmth to spread through your gut. Nothing like the small conversations the Mandalorian gave you, but it made you feel something— and that was in short supply around here.

Karga sighed in refreshment after slamming his glass back on the table, but his gaze fixed on something behind you as you deposited your glass back down. “Ah, Mando!” He exclaimed.

Your heart stopped.

You stayed utterly frozen in place, feeling a mixture of anxiety and adrenaline surge through you.

“That was fast. I wasn’t expecting you back for another few days at least,” Karga continued.

You tried not to let the hurt surge through you. So, he had been back since your last meeting. He’d been back, and he hadn’t come to visit. You tried to rationalise your hurt— he held no obligation to stop by the shop, he held no responsibility, yet— you wished—

You wished he would have.

“I trust you know our resident weapons mechanic,” Karga continued, gesturing to you. You forced yourself to turn round and look at him— face to face. His helmet stared at you blankly in response, and you wondered what expression he held beneath.

Maybe it was annoyance, thinking he was finally rid of a nobody mechanic from the inner city.

Maybe it was surprise, or hurt, or pain. You knew that despite the immense effort you were putting in to keep your stare blunt, he’d see right through you.

“Yes,” Mando replied after what seemed like hours. You turned back to Karga, pushing your glass to the middle of the table in dismissal.

“Thanks for the drink. I’ll be going,” You got up swiftly, standing in front of Mando after leaving the booth. He looked down at you, chrome visor focusing on your eyeline. You found yourself flicking your eyes from the left and right, as if you could see the placement of his eyes beneath the helmet—

Then you looked away.

You sauntered out of the bar, ignoring exclaimed farewells from Karga as you booked it out of the bar, heading straight back to the shop. Your strides were fierce, your heart pounded painfully beneath your ribs and you couldn’t stop yourself from balling your fists.

You felt like screaming, but you kept your mouth shut and your jaw tense. You felt like punching, kicking, pounding something, but you didn’t, instead opting to breathe it out as you entered your shop and slammed the door shut behind you.

It’s fine. It’s fine.

You yelled at yourself to calm down, to accept that it was nothing. God forbid, you’d gotten worked up over the smallest indication of human interaction, from a man whose face you’d never fucking seen, no less.

It was stupid. You’d long grown out of enjoying fairy tales, and this wasn’t one. You were a grown woman, hyper-fixating over a six-month long dodgy deal with a bounty hunter that you didn’t fucking know— not really, anyway.

In a frenzy, you unsheathed your blaster, heading out to your courtyard. You fired at will, not stopping to aim your blaster or even try to hit the targets. When that got dull, you actually started to try—you positioned your feet parallel to your shoulders, straightening your spine and extending your neck—

You fired, hitting the targets dead centre every time, just like normal.

You fired until your trigger finger began to ache, until the incessant anger and hurt in your chest had dissipated to a low roar that you could manage in other ways—with the bottle of Coruscant whiskey that you only saved for special occasions; big deals, good months, and, evidently, to feel something other than red, hot and seething anger.

You went to sheath your blaster, when the hairs on the back of your neck pricked up—

You turned swiftly, raising your gun and keeping your eyes wide open. You faltered when you saw the familiar glint of moon rays on chrome. Mando stood in the courtyard doorway, just as he’d done the last time you’d seen him.

Your elbow buckled, dropping the blaster to your side as you kept yourself composed. You stared him down like you were unbothered to see him. You had a feeling he knew that wasn’t the case, though, and if he’d been there for a few minutes before then your incessant firing would have proven otherwise.

“Mando,” You spoke first, keeping your voice steady. “What information do you need this time?” You kept it professional, not wanting to think back about the way you’d been so blatantly vulnerable to him before. He probably thought you to be childish, over-emotional, idiotic.

You’d rather he thought you to be that, than weak.

“What were you doing with Karga?” He demanded it this time. His voice was low, lower than usual, despite the modulator. You sheathed your pistol, stepping towards him once. He didn’t move aside.

“Drinking,” You stated the obvious. You made a move to try and get past him, but a Beskar covered forearm leant up against the doorframe, stopping you even more so.

“He’s bad news,” He continued. You let out an annoyed scoff.

“I know who Karga is. Kriff—I live here,” You accidentally let your annoyance travel through your words, making it exceptionally clear that you were pissed, if it hadn’t been obvious before.

You grabbed his forearm, tugging it away from the doorframe and pushing your way inside. He let you pass eventually, watching as you grabbed a bottle of whiskey from beneath your work desk. You jumped up onto the desk, letting your legs droop over the side as you uncorked the bottle.

It was silent. You could tell he was trying to find something to say, to bring up the obvious tension, but you also got the sense that Mando didn’t often apologise.

Why should he? He didn’t promise to come back.

He hadn’t promised. You had no idea why you were so ticked off, yet there you were—seething, angry, hurt, perhaps on the brink of tears, but possibly relishing in the fact he’d come to the shop after your little encounter. You felt sick at your own feelings.

“Are you... mad at me?” He spoke finally. The breath caught in the back of your throat. His hesitation made it clear; he didn’t often delve into the workings of others. He was being kind by even asking you about this.

You felt like a dick. All of a sudden, you could see even more so that you were being incredibly irrational. Weeks of zero contact had turned you into a moron. A lonely, overthinking moron.

You glanced up at him, holding the whiskey between your thighs. You let out a sigh.

“No,” You let out. “I’m sorry. It’s been... a strange, few weeks,” You chuckled slightly after speaking, bringing the bottle to your lips and taking a small gulp. “Loneliness is a disease, Mandalorian,” You added, taking another sip and slotting the bottle back between your thighs.

Mando moved from the doorway, striding towards you slowly. You stayed in place, focusing on the warmth that the whiskey provided you with. You finally looked up when he stood before you, not close enough to slot between your hips, but close enough for your knees to graze against Beskar.

He reached out for the bottle, grabbing it from between your thighs and making his way around to the main shop. You went to turn, but the leather of his gloved hand slotted itself between your jaw and your neck, pushing your gaze to the back of the shop.

“Don’t look,” He told you, warningly.

You did as you were told, all the while counting your shallow breaths as they quietly shook from within your body. You heard the subtle glug of the bottle, the drip as the liquid sloshed around within the glass, and then the bottle was being slotted back between your thighs from behind.

Mando’s arm wrapped itself around you as he made sure it was back in place, his glove grazing over the top of your thigh and skimming your waist as he retracted his arm back. You’d be lying if you didn’t relish in those small touches.

They set your skin alight, despite there being no skin-to-skin contact involved. It was the closest he’d ever come to you, allowing the gentler side of himself to appear. You’d never see him this way; guard down, a softness to his voice and his unknowing gaze.

You knew that he’d just raised his helmet to take a sip of whiskey—that was enough to make you gulp back the desires within your gut. You couldn’t believe he’d felt comfortable enough to do that around you. You hesitantly turned, waiting to see if it was allowed, but fully turned to him when he didn’t push your gaze away like before.

You swivelled on the top of the desk, bringing your legs round to droop over the other side, while Mando grabbed his usual stool and dragged it closer to you.

He sat, sighing slightly as he did so, before looking up at you sat before him.

“Solitude,” He spoke. “I prefer that word,” His voice was soft. You knew he was tired just from the way he spoke; he was exhausted.

“Solitude implies a sense of peace,” You replied, stepping carefully over your words. “Do you feel peace in your ship, all alone?”

“Do you feel peace in this shop?” He hit back with, avoiding your question completely. You were about to say no, but you stopped yourself. This shop was all you had, all you knew. Your choice of loneliness, over solitude, was an obvious indication of the way it made you feel, and you wanted to bet that Mando knew that, but—

Without this life, you didn’t know where you’d be.

“It’s all I have,” You admitted, finally. He nodded subtly, not moving his visor from your face.

“And this,” He said, gesturing to the Beskar he donned. “Is all I know. This is the Way,”

You looked down, swinging your legs back and forth for lack of what to do. You wanted to know more—you always wanted to know more about Mando, that was a given. But right now, you wanted to ask him everything.

“Is that why you stopped coming here?” The words trickled from your lips pitifully, but you had no choice but to accept that you’d spoken them.

Mando was silent for a few moments, but he made no indication of looking away from you. You wondered if, beneath the helmet, he was actually looking at you. Maybe he was zoning out, or was focused on the wall behind your head instead.

“I feared continuing to visit you would become a habit I could no longer break,”

There it was—that warmth. It erupted within your gut, winding its way up your spine and neck, circling down your limbs and to the spot between your legs that you always chose to ignore. You tensed up immediately, forgetting about the whiskey bottle between your thighs as the sensation only increased the wobble of your upper thighs.

“Like you said,” Mando continued, and you could have sworn that his voice sounded strained. Like he was holding back, like his body was almost forcing him to stay quiet. He stood suddenly, causing a small gasp to leave your lips involuntarily, as he strode forward to slot himself partially between your legs. “Loneliness is a disease,”

You went jelloid when a hesitant hand was placed on your thigh—

Stars, it’s been a while.

You were slowly beginning to unwind, as Mando placed his other hand on the opposing thigh, slotting himself further between your legs. As much as you wanted to speed this up, to feel skin touch skin, you didn’t know if that was actually possible for the Mandalorian.

“M-Mando,” You stuttered out, but it only made his grip tighten around your plump skin. You instinctively raised your hands to his chest, feeling the smoothness of his Beskar. “Just— wait,” You managed out, despite all of your senses not wanting him to stop what he was doing. His visor shot to your face quickly and his hands fluttered away from your thighs.

You wanted to cry— that’s not what you’d meant—

You swiped your hands across his Beskar chest plate, reaching down for his large forearms. You heard the breath hitch in the back of his throat, as a small moan escaped his modulator.

You placed his arms back on your legs slowly, but he still looked on his guard, wondering what you had to say.

“Loneliness is a disease,” You spluttered out. Your cheeks were flushed a neon red, and you could feel the rapid heartbeat erupting from beneath your ribs. “It’s— overwhelming,”

When he didn’t move or speak, you wanted to kick yourself. Had you done it again? Revealed something that was too much and reduced yourself to a vulnerable mess? For a moment, you thought Mando could smell the weakness within you, but even you didn’t realise you’d unwind this fast at the most subtle of touches from the Mandalorian.

You froze when he raised a gloved hand to pinch your chin. His thumb was firm but gentle, his other fingers curled just beneath your jaw, and his stare was unwavering.

Stars, your whole body throbbed at his touch. You wanted more, but you also didn’t want it to end as quickly as it had started, and you’d meant what you’d said— overwhelming. It was a red, hot heat that you hadn’t felt in years, it was something that you’d have to get used to again, and from the fumbling touches that Mando gave you, you felt he might be in the same boat.

His thumb slowly made its way to your mouth, gliding back and forth over your bottom lip. You were positively glowing, feeling the intimate touch of the hunter for the first time after what seemed like months of fantasy—

You’d had dreams of him, falling asleep to the image of his helmet or the way he slumped on your stool every so often, so desperate to see what lay beneath his armour.

“You’re overwhelmed?” He needlessly questioned. The way his voice trickled all over you was enough to make your body surge towards his once more. You had to stop yourself from reaching for his waistband, overcome with a hunger that you hadn’t been expecting. “It’s okay. We have time,”

With five simple words you could have collapsed to the floor right there. All too soon, his touch vanished from your skin. You leant forward has he removed himself from you, stepping back while you tried desperately to get his touch back.

The whiskey bottle between your legs slipped suddenly, toppling from its place between your thighs as you realised you’d started to open your legs wider where he’d stood between your hips. You grappled at air to try and stop it falling, but it fell from the desk—

Right into a skilful gloved hand. Mando gripped the bottle with a ferocity that you knew he’d wanted to grip you with, before stepping forward once more. He slotted the bottle between your thighs once more, but right in the nook of your upper thighs—

You shivered uncontrollably as both hands came to cradle your thighs, pushing them together to keep the bottle in place.

You watched, defeated, as he picked up his satchel from the floor and slung it over his shoulder, staring at you atop the desk when he was ready to leave.

“If I see you drinking with Karga again, I won’t be as gentle,” Despite his efforts to keep his voice strong, you heard the breathy way he spoke.

It filled you with a confidence that had disappeared as soon as he’d first placed the bottle back between your legs.

“You’ll have to catch me first,” You challenged. You couldn’t stop yourself from sending a smirk his way, and it had the desired effect—

Mando dropped his helmet to the floor as the most subtle of groans escaped his lips. He swivelled and turned, heading for the door immediately afterwards.

He opened it, letting in the cold Nevarro air. You watched as he slinked out of the door, pulling it shut from the outside—

And then there was silence. You breathed out a shaky breath that you didn’t realise you’d been holding, grabbing the whiskey and taking a large gulp as you tried to regain your composure fully.

You went to bed that night utterly elated, his chrome visor appearing behind your eyes all the same.

Feel free to send things to my ask box or message me!

#din djarin x reader #no saints #no saints fic #din djarin #pedro pascal #star wars #star wars fic #star wars fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #smut and fluff #smut and angst #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian smut #fanfiction #ao3 #wattpad

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joshslater · 3 years

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Quarantine & VR

5500-word story, so I used the Keep Reading feature for once. Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

“Are you sure you’re OK with this?”

We were slowly driving through an eerily empty city center from my student flat next to campus on one side of town to Ethan’s flat on the other, with all my belongings stuffed in the back of the U-Haul. Not that I had so much stuff we needed one. I just moved into the state right before the semester started, but it was the cheapest rental we could get. No one is going anywhere with this lockdown in effect. We barely had time to read the syllabus before everything screeched to a halt. You thought we’d know by now how to handle pandemics, but nooo.

“I wouldn’t have helped you clear out your shit if I wasn’t. Bit late to ask now.” “Yeah, but it seemed like the polite thing to do.”

Ethan turned towards me and spoke with a more serious tone. “I’m really happy to have you stay at my place. I think I would go mad staying alone. Go mad or go home, and I don’t think being locked up with the parents would be better.”

He was about as new in the city as I was, but his aunt had moved out of an old apartment last year and his parents had decided to take over the lease. Apparently it was even cheaper than the student apartments and much larger, but further away from campus. Though where it was in the city didn’t really matter as long as this lockdown was going on.

“Someone else is out at least”, I said indicating out the window. Across the street, a police officer with a navy blue face mask followed our truck with his eyes. Or her eyes I guess. Hard to tell in uniform and mask. I don’t know why, but I found it a rather good look. I hate the flimsy paper masks, but these form-fitted ones kind of make you look more badass.

“Do you think he looks sexy like that?” he asked, as if he had the same thought. “It’s a bit dystopian sci-fi, but that’s not to say it doesn’t look good.” “Take next right. The one after is one way.”

The apartment had two bedrooms, a large living room, decent bathroom and kitchen. Ethan’s aunt had left some furniture, but overall there wasn’t that much stuff. Makes sense as he had barely been here a month. That’s how he had a sparsely furnished extra bedroom for me to use. This was only the second time I had been in the apartment. Ethan forced me to have a look in person before he allowed me to agree to stay with him. Now standing there with all my belongings in the truck outside and my student flat lease canceled, I realized we really didn’t know each other. I studied corporate finance and he medical computer science, whatever that meant. When I asked he tried to explain that almost everything in a hospital now has a computer in it, and a ton of work went into things like volumetric renderings of MRI scans and somewhere there I started to tune him out.

There really weren’t any overlapping circles between us, we studied completely different subjects, he was active in computer games and health, I was trying to get into the writing room of the student theatre company and looking to sign up in the cinema club. But both of us had the bright idea to start working in the student pub, and really hit it off during the start of school year party they threw for their workers. We decided to pick the same work schedule and found out we have the same taste in pop culture, music, books, movies.

And now I’m moving in with him.

He had the larger of the bedrooms with a queen-size bed in the middle, a desk with a few computers and screens set up, gaming computer chair, a reading chair. Basically his room was set up so he could live there except for visits to the kitchen and bathroom. My room didn’t have a desk, but a normal bed, an armchair that looked comfortable, and more wardrobe space than I would ever need. He told me that I could basically consider the living room as mine as well. It had two couches in front of a big flat screen. By the balcony door stood a workout bench and weights. Barbell, plates, dumbbells, and that kind of stuff. Apparently it wasn’t Ethan’s but his uncle’s, but that didn’t really make a difference here and now.

Moving my stuff only took a few runs up the stairs, so we were soon back in the truck, returning it to the rental place. Ethan really didn’t have to come with me, but he said that this would probably be the last adventure for a while, and decided to come along.

“You’re supposed to buy pizza and beer for everyone who helps you move, right? What do you fancy?” “I’d like… You know what? We’re not going to get out much, and you don’t look like someone on a strict diet. Oh, no offense!” “None taken.” “How about we both keep healthy macros and workout regimen while locked up. Instead of paying rent you can help me make sure I at least isn’t in worse shape when all this shit ends.” “Macros?” “Diet.” “Sure I can do that, if you show me what to do.” “It’s a deal then. I’d like one with Gorgonzola and ham.” “Come again?” “The pizza topping. I’m allowed one cheat day per pandemic.”

The pizza place was only a block away from the apartment. Just this one time it was great, as we walked back with one quattro formaggi and one bresaola. But it would be so much harder to eat whatever Ethan had in his plans knowing a real wood fire oven pizza was just four minutes walk away.

Unprompted Ethan started to tell his story over pizza. How his father was a successful businessman in Arkansas, but his hometown always felt too small for him. He talked about how he was making synth music in school. How that made him interested in computers. How, since it was such a small town, he had ended up on the football team without any desire or skill to actually play the game. How he had almost by accident found this education program and had looked forward to both leave Arkansas and to study. I too did a year be year recap of my life so far, up to how my girlfriend dumped me just before the summer. In a way that was lucky, because it made me feel free from obligations and actually do what I wanted.

It was 9:21 when I woke up from a knock on the door. I was a bit disoriented for a second until I remembered where I was. I was sleeping in the guest bed left by Ethan’s aunt. After the pizza we did continue to talk over beer all evening, but I didn’t feel any hangover. Just thirsty. It wasn’t that early in the morning anymore on the other hand. “Yep” I called out. “I’m making breakfast,” Ethan called out from the other side of the door. “Coming”.

It literally only took me seconds to get ready. Stand up. Sweatpants. T-shirt. Done. In the kitchen I saw Ethan had a similar fashion sense, but had gone for shorts instead. “Porridge is fine with you? It would be good if it is. Lots of fibers.” I couldn’t really recall if I liked porridge and told him as much. The porridge itself didn’t taste much, but with toppings I could get used to it. “With our schedule in our own hands I think it would be a good idea to start out with breakfast and work out. That way we can get it out of the way.” Sounded sensible enough.

I changed into shorts as well and made myself ready to do my part of becoming Ethan’s gym buddy. At a quick glance we didn’t look that different, Ethan and I. On one hand I never had that big of an appetite, but on the other I had never really done any sports, and had no gym experience, so I let Ethan guide me. He tested different motions and how many times I could do them with weights he selected and noted down the results in a notebook that would log my progress. It wasn’t at all as tiring as I thought it would be. “Oh, you’ll feel it tomorrow for sure.” We each took a shower, and I went back to my room to catch up on my reading.

A few hours later I was starting to think about lunch. More because I was getting tired of reading than actually being hungry, but I thought I should ask Ethan if he had a plan. The door to his room was open, but as I got closer it became apparent it was an oversight on his part. Splayed on the bed was Ethan, naked save for a pair of boxer shorts and a big VR goggles. His right hand was massaging his obviously erect dick through the fabric of his underwear. He must have followed his normal routine and forgotten I had moved in. I’m not a prude and do the occasional tug myself, like any student, so I was more embarrassed than shocked. As on autopilot, my mind decided to ignore Ethan and continue walking to the kitchen to assess the lunch situation, but another part of my brain decided to keep him in sight.

Walking without watching in an apartment I’ve been in for all of 18 hours predictably made me jam my toe into the door frame. In the corner of my eye I could see Ethan’s body spasm and ripping off his VR goggles as I yell out in pain and surprise. He stared right at me, eyes wide open and mouth ajar in an expression that was hard to read. Surprise for sure, but also something else in between horror and delight. Perhaps it was like the smiles and laughter after you have completely made a fool of yourself. My eyes were drawn to his, and I could feel my face twisted in pain. It was like time stood still, waiting for either of us to make the next move. Out of sheer momentum my mind continued ahead as if nothing had changed and blurted out “What’s your plan for lunch?” over whatever Ethan said at the same time.

“What?” and an awkward pause again. “I said would you like to try?” “I… What is it?”

Ethan put down the VR kit on the bed, quickly got up and stepped into his pair of shorts. His erection was still very much apparent. He pressed escape on one of the keyboards and the screen switched from one incomprehensible menu to another.

“It’s a virtual reality system. I’m using an open source environment system to render inputs from an interactive story engine controlled by a GAN AI system. I’ve been experimenting with regenerative NLP feedback loop plugins for it.” “I followed you all the way up to and including virtual reality system.” “It’s like a VR movie that is generated specifically for you. Here.”

He picked up the bulky goggles and held it out to me. It wasn’t just goggles, but a pair of headphones were built in, and there were a few additional sensors glued on. Hesitantly, and with a throbbing toe, I stepped forward and took the headset. It wasn’t as heavy as it looked. I put it on my head and as it settled into place a digital version of Ethan’s room wobbled into place as well. It was remarkably similar. The colors and patterns were all slightly wrong, but the layout of the room and placement of furniture was almost spot on. I assume he had measured everything at one point and put in the data somehow.

“Go lie on the bed.” Ethan told me. I very tentatively stepped towards the bed, and feeling my way there. It was somehow surprised to find a bed where the digital bed was, and although the visuals of the sheets didn’t quite line up with what I felt, if you just moved quick enough the illusion of actually being in the digital room felt very real.

“This is so weird.” “I’ll start a blank session for you.” “A what?”

Almost immediately a guy entered the room through the door frame. This must be some VR video recording or something because he looked completely real. About the same age as Ethan and I but more fit and, I’ll admit, better looking. He looked flush and sweaty, with his french crop unkempt as if he had just ruffled it. He wore a navy blue sweatshirt and sweatpant shorts. I couldn’t see further down from my position. “Fuck, that was so dope! I love getting pump like that, you know what I’m saying” He was stretching his arms in different ways. Then he zoned in on me, like he was actually looking me over. “Fuck, I love how you look, babe. Mind if I join?” I shake my head slowly. He breaks out in a big smile. I notice he has a bit of a sweatpants boner. Carefully he climbs into bed, next to me. There’s no vibrations of course, or heat or smell, but everything I see looks utterly convincing.

“Hey, are you OK?” “What the…”

I’m looking into Ethan’s face as he stands over me. Bewildered I pat my head.

“I removed it once the program stopped. Didn’t shake you from your sleep one bit. I guess it wasn’t that interesting for you.” “It was very convincing. I fell asleep?” “Perhaps moving stressed you more than you knew? Or it could just be, you know, how shit the world is right now.” “Fuck… I only wanted to ask about lunch.” “A bit late for that. It’s like four and something. Let’s wait an hour or two more and have dinner. Ok with you?” “Sounds dope.”

It was like neither of us wanted to talk about what had happened. I certainly had questions. Had I just fallen asleep like that? Perhaps he was right and I had been anxious about the move and how things would work out. And what was up with that program? It wasn’t gay, exactly, and it didn’t mean Ethan was gay, and if he was there wasn’t anything wrong with that. All of it was just so confusing. Perhaps Ethan was right to just pretend it didn’t happen. Poor guy. I walked in on him watching porn, and then I fell asleep when he tried to show his system. Watching the news on how ever more countries were shutting down was probably time better spent.

He had not joked about being sore in the morning. I woke earlier than in weeks feeling stiff as hell. I didn’t want to wake Ethan, but I couldn’t just lie there in agony, so I got up and did some bodyweight repetitions. Squats, push-ups, dips, and stuff like that just to get some blood flowing. It honestly felt great. Me doing morning gymnastics! Who would have guessed that a week ago? When I left my room I found out Ethan was already up, but didn’t want to wake me up.

“Dude, we need to sort that shit out. I’m ok with you making noise when you’re up. You live here.” “You live here too. What if whoever gets up first makes breakfast and wakes the other up.” “Yeah, dope. I’m down with that.”

We quickly worked out the kinks in our schedule. I would typically wake up first, do a quick workout routine in my room. Then set the breakfast and wake up Ethan. Then we would do workout together. We had different weights and number of reps, but we had very quickly settled on the same exercises, though Ethan was still adjusting my form ever so often. Ethan would then shower first while I did stretches. We then kept to ourselves until lunch. Ethan cooked for both of us. Depending on what we felt like and needed we would either go back to study or do something like shopping or that kind of stuff in the afternoon.

It was hard to keep track of time, but I think it was on a Sunday four weeks later when Ethan said during breakfast that he wanted to show me something he had worked on. He moved the workout bench and the barbell stuff to just outside his room and told me to lie down. The bar had no plates on it, and that’s how I’ve used it until two days ago when I started to add extra weight to it. Ethan emerged out of his room with the VR set in hand, and a trail of cables running in into one of his computers. “Here, give this a go.”

I was a bit surprised, given the last time, but I was also curious what he had to show. Once snugly fitted on my head I was transported into a real gym. It wasn’t a very large one, but a few people did their thing around me. He almost scared me, the guy with the french crop, when he called out “Hey, bro!” just to my left. He had the same navy blue sweatpant shorts as the last time, but his upper body was bare, glistening muscles. He took a step back and his eyes were scanning me up and down. “Dude, you look so fucking good! You’ve really been hitting the weights.” I smiled and immediately realized that I was smiling at an avatar that wasn’t actually there and couldn’t see me, but it’s amazing how good some positive reinforcement feels, even if it is from a program. Perhaps that was the surprise from Ethan.

“Here, show me what you got!”

He walked around me, through the couch I knew was there in the real room, and stood behind me. I leaned back fully on the bench and looked up. He stood over me, just behind my head, so all I saw was a navy blue bulge, some abs and pecs, and his face looking down on me. “Go on, I’ve got you.” I could somehow feel him standing over me. Was Ethan spotting me in the real world? Not that it matters with an empty bar. I grabbed it. It felt heavy. “Good. Give me 15.” He started counting as I lifted. “Slower on the way down. Keep control all the way. Ten more” As I was getting to fifteen he upped it a bit. “Come one! Five more!” As I sat the bar back I felt utterly exhausted. “Fucking awesome, dude!”

“You really went all out.” “What?”

I was lying on the workout bench but I wasn’t wearing any VR shit. I sat up and hit my head in the barbell.

“Fuck! Dude, what the hell!” “The idea was for it to be motivational, but you really took it to heart.” “It was fucking dope, bro. I’m so pumped. Guy was kind of cute too.” “You think?” “Fuck, yeah. I wish I had those pecs.” “You better start some supplements then, if you can’t even last a virtual session.” “What you mean, dude?” “It’s already lunch.” “Fuck dammit!”

I rubbed my head where I had hit it and looked around the room. It looked mostly like before, but the sun had clearly moved ahead. Fuck, I really felt pumped to get some reps in hard and really make a difference. Perhaps lunch, and then do my daily sets.

“You ok with shopping without me after lunch?” “Sure. You need anything?” “I… You said supplements.”

Fortunately for me I have a roommate that studies medicine, kind of. Well, he hasn’t actually gone to any of the classes yet, but he has the books, so he picked out some things for me to boost me. Some of it looked like medicine, in small plastic jars with scientific-sounding names that could just as well have been a frat house. Alpha-omega-manganese-BS-whatever. Some of it decidedly did not look like medicine. Enormous containers with lids that looked too fucking small, with names like amazing-gainz-ultra. He set up a regimen for me to follow, basically some stuff with every meal. I started right away that evening with something like a vanilla and chalk milkshake after dinner. I don’t know why, but something made me feel really good drinking it.

I slept fucking fantastic, and despite having done way more lifting the day before than ever I barely felt any soreness or anything. I probably woke up Ethan with my harder than normal pre-breakfast cardio. Lots of burpees and jumping jacks, so I almost felt guilty making breakfast while steaming sweaty, but whatever. Ethan had to remind me what supplements to take. I really should have written that shit down.

I had a strong deja vu while doing weights. It wasn’t until Ethan spotted barbell for me I realized that this was almost exactly what I had seen doing the VR shit. I looked up and saw Ethan standing over me similar to the guy, but Ethan was wearing grey sweatpant shorts and a red tank. I kind of wished he was topless as well, like the other guy.

“You ok down there?” “Fucking dope, bro”

I realized I must have zoned out a bit. What’s worse I could feel I rocked a hard erection out of nowhere. Rather than making a deal out of it, and run to the shower, I decided to pretend like everything is normal. Guys get boners all the times. He’s a guy, so he knows that. I even did a few extra exercises to really drive home that point. While Ethan took his shower I dared to lower my shorts and slowly stroke my dick. I haven’t cummed once since moving in with Ethan, which I realized was longer than I’ve gone in years. The days were blurring together. I hadn’t watched porn either since moving in. I’ve been too preoccupied with the move and everything else going on.

“All yours” Ethan said and closed the door to his room. I just froze. I was sitting on the workout bench, shorts by my ankles and dick in hand. He saw that. There is no way he didn’t see that. I could feel my face getting hot by embarrassment, yet I continued to sit there and stroke my dick. What the fuck is wrong with me. My mind flashed to Ethan, to the guy in the VR, to his bulge just above my eyes, to his abs to the barbell, to the free weights.

No. I got up and took a long shower, trying really hard to not think about anything. Just observing the tiles, the shampoo bottles, the soap. But there were the creeping thoughts that perhaps Ethan will find me a weird creep and kick me out. How would he do it? He’s been far too nice to be direct. Would he bring up this incident or would he just wait a week or something and over one lunch say something vague like we are not as good of a match as he hoped? Fuck. I needed to do something.

I couldn’t concentrate at all on the block on taxation I was supposed to read. Apart from the residual thoughts of unease I was beginning to see what a mistake it was to not cum in the shower. I was very close to surfing porn sites, but decided against it and ended up aimlessly browsing social media. I can’t really explain how, a hundred clicks that trended in that direction perhaps, but I got into the circles of fitness instagram people. Big arms, broad chests, and slinky stringers. Somehow I was hard again. Stealthily I walked back to the bathroom, locked the door, and started to jerk off in the shower. I’d been saving for a week and been hot all day, but somehow it took quite a while to shoot the load. My mind was a soup of barbells, Ethan, sweatpant shorts, vague old porn clips, and more recent instagram models. When I finally came it was like I’ve never orgasmed before in my life. Rope after rope shot out of me, the first few even hit the wall, and my hips involuntary thrust forward for each of them. I felt cleansed in a way, like a weight had been lifted from me. I couldn’t really understand why, though. Nothing had really changed.

I didn’t want to go back to my room and study. I rinsed the shower, got a pad and a pen, and went to the kitchen to get on top of the supplements. I decided to write down all the ingredients from the labels. I had just accepted Ethan’s plan uncritically. It’s probably fine, but I wanted to understand it. That’s where Ethan found me.

“Hey, dude. Already hungry?” “Yeah… No… I don’t know, bro.” “You don’t know?” “It’s like… Fuck. You saw, bro.” “Saw what? You jerking off?” He laughed and sat down. “You saw me doing it first.”

He was right, of course. I didn’t know how that could have slipped my mind.

“Was it porn?” I didn’t know why I asked that. I was curious, but it also felt a bit too personal of a question. “Yeah. Wanna see?”

Before I even had time to respond he continued “Let’s fill up your macros first and then I can show you. If past experiences are any indications you’ll take your time.” “Already jacked off today.” Why did I tell him that? “Even better”

Ethan had this ever changing dish where he would chop and fry vegetables like bell pepper, chili, garlic, ginger, onion, peas, and whatever else was around, pour in coconut milk and whatever spices you craved that day green curry or red curry for Thai, madras curry for Indian, Soy and miso for Japanese, anise and szechuan for Chinese, saffron and parmesan for Italian, and so on. Then serve it with pasta or grains or rice. I helped him prepare it, as I always do unless he started making it without telling me. This time however the air was different, filled with tension and awkward anticipation. He made it with chicken, lemon grass, and brown rice this time. We hardly spoke a word while cooking, and then continued to eat in silence. We both knew what was on my mind, and there wasn’t any question on the subject that wouldn’t be awkward. I was weirdly looking forward to trying out whatever it was he wanted me to try. I couldn’t explain why it felt so compelling to me. Just thinking about it made me hard. “You clean up here and I’ll go and set it up for you,” he said as soon as his plate was empty. “Yeah,” was all I could manage, and he left. I finished my plate as well, put the few things we’ve used in the dishwasher and went to his room.

His bed was made and on it was the VR headset and what I first though was a protein drink shaker. “Dude, is that a… fleshlight?” I asked him both with incredulity and genuine curiosity. Curiosity because a cable ran from it to one of the boxes on the floor that connected to his computers, and incredulity because I couldn’t believe he thought I would use one of his sex toys.

“Yes. No. Not exactly. It’s modified to connect into the haptic subsystem.” “Haptic?” “Force feedback” “It’s a vibrator, bro.” “Eh.. No. Well, not only. You’ll see.” “Why do you think I’d touch that, bro?” Though somewhere inside I knew I would. “It’s a brand new inset. You’ll be fine.”

I walked up to the bed and suddenly wasn’t sure what to do. I would need to at least lower my shorts and boxers to get the until-recently-fleshlight on my dick, but Ethan was still in the room. Not only in the room but almost studying me like a lab project.

“I’ll lie down?” “Got to strip first,” he said motioning towards my tenting shorts. He saw me hesitated and continued “Dude, I just saw you jerk off in the living room this morning”. I blushed and pulled down my shorts and boxers, and stepped out of them. “Shirt too,” he said. I removed that as well and stood naked in front of him. “Wow, you are making progress. Ok, on the bed and hook yourself up. Red dot up.” I climbed into the bed, as he told me, and grabbed the cyber-fleshlight and pushed it down on my hard dick with the red dot up towards my head. There was some sort of lubrication in it and it slid on with very little effort. It must have been heated as well, because the lubrication didn’t make it feel cold. I was given a nod from Ethan and put on the helmet over my eyes and ears.

The alternative version of Ethan’s bedroom was already there, waiting for me. I looked around and as far as I could tell everything looked like in the real world, except no Ethan of course. After half a minute, perhaps more, I was almost about to ask if he had started it when the French crop guy jumped in through the doorway, as if he was in a hurry. He was naked except for a pair of white, tight speedos that both highlighted his big package and created a reference point for his deep tan and made it look even deeper. There was a sheen over all his body, like he had been working out hard or oiled himself up, and he was breathing heavy. “Sorry, I’m late. I didn’t expect you so soon,” he panted. I didn’t know what to say. “You want me to help you with that?” he asked and nodded towards my dick. I looked down and saw a massive erection, easily twice my real size. “As an apology…” he continued.

“Yeah, sure bro.”

He made the cutest little jump of joy in response, and caught my smile. He composed himself and locked eyes with me. Then he started some sort of dance where all the movement was in his hips and abs. Then he added more of the upper body, still keeping eye contact. I thought I would hose him down with cum from my monster penis right there, so sexy was it. He smirked and moved closer. Still swaying he leaned forward and licked the head of my dick, which shot pleasure up my spine. He then started to circle the head with his tongue, before taking it into his mouth. The first few times were shallow, but then he stopped teasing and begun to really do down deep on the dick. In addition I could feel him alternate between stroking my hips, the insides of my thighs, and tugging my balls. Just as I was about to nut he stopped working on my dick and started to slowly run his tongue up my faint abs, circling my nipple. I was squirming in horny delight.

He was straddling me now, face to face. I couldn’t resist it any longer and reached to pull him towards me and kiss him on the mouth. There was a loud crack of plastic against plastic as our VR helmets collided. “Dude?” I was looking at the French crop guy who was moving his hands in front of his eyes. “Ethan?” I asked, suddenly realizing what was going on. The French crop guy looked bashful, did a little wave, and answered in not-Ethan’s voice “Yeah.”

“Did you just blow me?” “I wasn’t… No, it’s still the device.” I hesitated, considering briefly what this would mean. “Would you like to?”

73 notes · View notes

zigtheeortega · 3 years

Text

come back to me

pairing | colt x mc

word count | 5.3k

warnings | blood, guns, bullets, wounds, and a mention of death. there’s a section of the fic where mc gets shot when a job goes awry – it’s used in a hurt/comfort scenario, but be warned that it’s in there! lmk if i need to use any other tags!

tags | @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @senatorraines, @jaxmatsuo, @rodappreciationweek

author’s note | i’ve never written a colt fic before, so i wanted to take a crack at a slowburn colt au – this fic takes place over the span of about ten-ish years (fifteen-ish total since the events of book one). i’m not the biggest colt expert so i hope i did him justice!

•─────────────────•

“If you ever ask me to do this much ass kissing again, I’m divorcing you.”

Colt flung himself onto the bed, still fully clothed, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Oh, stop being dramatic,” Raquel laughed, reaching back to unzip herself, the soft fabric of her sundress sliding down her body and onto the floor.

He hummed from his place on the bed, neck craning to watch her as she changed into her pajamas.

“Stop distracting me from being annoyed,” he grumbled, letting his head fall back, his gaze trained on the ceiling.

“Are you actually mad at me or are you just complaining to hear yourself talk?” She asked, but before he could respond she’d climbed on top of him, wrapping him in a koala hug, nestling her head under his chin.

Naturally, he hugged her back, his arms snaking around her waist.

He shrugged. “I’m not mad at you.”

She giggled into his chest, sending tremors up his body, the warmest kind. “You’re the most stubborn man I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why you married me,” he kissed the top of her head. “You’re too good for me.”

Raquel pushed herself up till they were nose to nose, giving him a pointed look. “I haven’t been too good for anyone since we were kids.” She pressed a quick kiss on his lips, intending to pull away, but he gripped her chin before she could, kissing her deeply.

He’d never get tired of that… and he’d never get tired of her.

For the longest time, he thought it was too far-fetched to expect he’d find someone willing to stick around through all of his bullshit, much less someone who’d legally binded herself to him.

He was still in awe with how it played out.

He’d returned to Los Angeles dangerously too soon after their run in with The Brotherhood. Incidentally enough, he was laying low on high alert for so long… but nothing came of it.

Maybe they’d been arrested, maybe they’d gotten justice, or maybe they just moved on to terrorize another city. He’d always assumed it was the latter.

Rebuilding his father’s autoshop was painful, no matter how deep he tried to shove those feelings down.

Colt’s vision for his father’s crumbling empire wasn’t one that came into focus for him for years.

Five years after The Brotherhood incident, all he had to show for it was a struggling auto shop with a few criminal employees who barely knew how to hotwire a car.

It seemed like there were no hills in sight, only cavernous valleys.

Five years after The Brotherhood incident, the death of his father, and the end of the Mercy Park Crew, she came into focus.

Raquel stepped into the garage, heels clacking against the dirty concrete, her gait determined.

He watched her from his tiny office, peering through the blinds as she glided confidently across the auto shop and up to his door.

She rapped her knuckles against it a few times, a little too heavy handedly.

There’s no way she’s really here, he thought, shaking his head. No fucking way.

He debated whether or not to let her in – the last time a Kaneko opened their doors to her, they nearly ruined her life.

He twisted the knob and yanked it open anyways, an insult bubbling up his throat. After all these years, he figured he’d be relieved to see her, but the tiny sliver of relief was easily overshadowed by his knee jerk reaction of annoyance and shock.

There was a small part of him that was excited, but not enough to warrant being nice to her.

When he came face to face with her for the first time, she spoke first. “Hi, Mr. Kaneko. I’d like to apply for a bookkeeping job.”

He blinked when she shoved a thick manila folder in his hands. “I think my qualifications speak for themselves.”

He thumbs the edges of the papers, flipping through her resume and the thick Master’s thesis. She’s too fucking smart to be back here.

Before anyone in the shop could see, he tugged her arm till she was inside, all but slamming the door behind her.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

She ripped her arm from his grasp, brows furrowed. “I’m here to work.”

“Don’t you get how dangerous it is for you to be here or are you just stupid?” He all but spat, slapping the folder onto his desk.

“If I’m stupid that makes you just as much of an idiot as me,” she countered, crossing her arms firmly. “I know the risks.”

“You can’t be dumb enough to think I’d take that risk, though,” he rolled his eyes, plopping into the chair at his desk.

She laughed – actually laughed – at him, covering her mouth. “Forgive me for that.”

He cocked a brow at her, waiting for her to continue.

“I went to school with pretentious male academics for five years, Colt. Whatever you’re gonna say to me has already been said, and it won’t hurt my feelings.”

He leans forward, flipping to her resume, tearing it off the top. “Let’s see, here. Langston college, yeah, I remember that. Graduated with honors? Predictable to do that three times in a row, don’t you think?”

She laughed again. “That’s a new one. I’ll have to log that under my favorite insults.”

“Well, I have loads. You’re giving me lots of material, Miss Olvera,” he mocked her, going back to skimming her resume.

Truthfully, he was trying to scare her away by being mean, and it wasn’t working. He didn’t want to dig too deep, though, because he wasn’t that evil.

He liked the girl – hell, if he didn’t like her, would he be bending over backwards to make her hate him purely for her safety?

“I can’t pay you well. I’m still rebuilding, and we’re barely breaking even. We’ve been sticking to straight work till I can manage to rebuild our reputation and relationships with buyers.”

She nodded. “I completely understand, and I don’t mind.”

“What, are you gonna ask me for a place to stay next?” He grumbled, rolling his eyes.

He was lying if he didn’t feel a little something stir in his stomach at the possibility of her staying in his apartment above the shop.

“No, I’m alright.”

“You came back to L.A. and you immediately have a place to stay? You’re lying.”

Her lips pressed into a firm line, she shook her head. “I’m back at my dad’s house.”

“What? There’s no fucking way I’m letting you work here if you’re living with a cop –”

“He passed away last year,” she chewed her lip, trying to keep her face neutral. “He had a heart attack in the middle of the night. Couldn’t get to the phone in time.

“Thankfully, he had a will set in place soon after mom died,” she shrugged. “I got the house, so I’m good.”

His fists clenched at his side. He’d already taken it too far without even meaning to.

“Sorry to hear that.”

She scoffed, a single forced laugh bursting from her lips. “You don’t have to respect him in front of me to save face or whatever. Your feelings about my dad don’t affect me.”

He nodded once, and the room descended into silence. He took the time to actually read her resume that time around, finding himself genuinely impressed with what she’d accomplished.

What he wanted to ask was “Why the fuck did you come back here?” but instead, what came out was, “You’re sure you can handle this?”

“I’m sure.”

She said those words with such conviction that he never had to ask again.

Raquel cuddled up to him, her breathing evening out. He hadn’t realized they’d gone that long without speaking.

He didn’t mind it though. He didn’t care as long as she was with him.

She stirred in her sleep, nearly rolling off of him, so he took that as his cue to tuck her in.

When she was settled under the covers, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and stepped out onto the deck.

The beach house they’d rented was a hundred feet from the shore, the waves grating against the sand creating the perfect white noise.

Perfect for sleeping, he mused, thinking about how quickly Raquel fell asleep in his arms, watching the water crash and retreat, push and pull over and over.

That same back and forth was what eventually brought him and Raquel together. They butted heads constantly, but had the same view on lots of decisions. They’d finish each other’s sentences and the crew would give each other knowing looks that he ignored.

A year in, she finally broke down. Not purposefully, and certainly not with the intent of him finding her curled into a sobbing mess outside of the garage.

“Hey what the hell, Raquel? It’s dangerous out here,” he called as he jogged up to her crumpled form.

He didn’t notice she was crying until he’d crouched down to check the injuries he thought she’d have.

She shielded her face with one hand and used the other to wave him away. “Just go.”

“I’m not leaving until you’re safe.”

It wasn’t even meant to be romantic. He’d do it for the rest of his crew since they’d grown so close.

There wasn’t a possibility of anything happening between them, or so he thought at the time. And what she admitted to him that night sealed their fate for years.

He’d managed to help her inside to his office, pulling back his worn office chair for her to collapse into.

A short “You okay?” Was all he could manage. He was new to this wellness check stuff and it didn’t come naturally to him.

But he knew as a leader, he had to do a lot more than just telling people what to do. Even if they split without a word in a week’s time, they were still a working machine that needed a little elbow grease every once in a while.

Even in the dim lamp light he could tell her eyes were red rimmed.

“I don’t think you want to hear my explanation as to why I’m not,” she laughed humorlessly, using the sleeve of her shirt to scrub the streak of makeup under her eye.

“I’m not good at this comforting shit, but I’ve got ears and I’ve gotten pretty good at using them,” he joked, sliding into the rickety folding chair in front of the desk.

She shrugged, flinging her hands up. “You’re gonna make fun of me –”

“– I won’t –”

“– You will, Colt. I know you and you’re gonna scoff the minute I take a breath.”

He couldn’t hold back the small smile at that.

“Well, yeah, but you don’t have to take it to heart.”

She sniffled, laughing. “You’re hard to ignore.”

“So are you, hard ass. Tell me what’s wrong.”

The sigh that came from her was labored, struggled, like she was about to drop heavy weights onto the floor of the office.

“Today’s the one year anniversary since I started working for you.”

He cocked a brow. “That’s it?”

“If you’d just let me explain then you’d know,” she rolled her eyes. “You’re already sucking at being a good listener.”

He held his hands up in surrender, leaning back into his chair. “Sorry.”

“My whole game plan was to figure out how to make myself useful. It’s why I got my Masters in accounting in the first place. I wanted to have my solid place in the crew, you know? Like I earned my spot.”

He nodded, waiting for her to continue.

“I just had this stupid fairytale idea in my head about coming back to L.A. and none of that’s come true.”

“Well, what was it? Anything I can do?” He asked.

Raquel sank her teeth into her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. She shook her head in response, taking a few deep breaths till she could finish.

“I wanted our old crew back. I… thought Logan would be back here by now, or looking for me at the very least,” she rubbed her temples, closing her eyes. “I waited five years to come back here and I’ve barely lasted one year in L.A. without him.”

He couldn’t help but flex his hand in and out of a fist a couple times as she spoke.

Yeah, it was true he didn’t care for Logan that much, but she liked him. Loved him, even.

If she was this dedicated to him six years later and he still hadn’t tried finding her, he didn’t deserve her.

“So it’s about Logan?” He asked with zero judgement, and she could tell.

She nodded, sniffling again. “Maybe I’ve just deluded myself into thinking we meant more to each other, but I’m still in love with him and I don’t know when that’s going to end for me.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he did what he thought was best.

He stood up, taking a couple steps till he was close enough to lay his palm on her shoulder, rubbing his thumb gently across the fabric.

She laid her hand on his thumb, holding it in place, as the sobs shook her body.

After that, he tried his hardest to keep her from crying. Which entailed leaving Logan’s name out of things.

Colt abandoned his shirt and shoes at the back door and hopped off the deck, landing softly on the sand. He took his time walking towards the water, gaze transfixed on the moon, which was at its peak in the sky.

He always thought the fact that the sea and moon were interlinked was kind of peculiar. The moon, thousands and thousands and thousands of miles away, had just enough power to pull the waves in the right direction.

He thought of Raquel like his moon far too often. The minute he was in her gravitational pull, he found himself wanting to follow her – to let her take the reins – and that was rare.

The first time he knew it was the beginning of the end with her was when a job went south.

Three years after she broke down about wanting the old crew back, they got a taste of the old violence.

One of their crew members, Isaac, had said for weeks that he had a weird gut feeling about that job in particular. Colt waved him off, reminding him that he’d value proof over superstition anyday.

In short, they were ambushed – nothing out of the ordinary in terms of their day to day risk.

What Colt wasn’t expecting, however, was for Raquel to be the one who got hurt.

They were cornered by the masked group, and before their crewmember Aly could grab her gun and shoot, one of them fired, the cracking sound of the gunshot echoing off the concrete flooring of the rundown parking garage.

Raquel’s pained groan followed immediately after.

Colt’s heart stopped when he saw the fabric of her jeans turning a deep deep maroon, the blood spreading faster than he could process what’d happened.

Her eyes fluttered and she stumbled to her knees, crying out as she knelt, bending her legs, one of which had been freshly torn through with a bullet.

“Don’t let them get away –” he shouted, flinging his arm in the direction of the fleeing criminals. He knelt down to scoop Raquel’s crumpled form into his arms. “Isaac, stay here.”

Isaac froze, nodding. “Anything you need, boss.”

“Drop me off at the shop so I can patch her up. I have to stop the bleeding.”

Colt’s voice was calm and even, but inside he was at his breaking point. He sat in the backseat of the car with Raquel strewn across his lap, the color draining from her face with each passing minute.

His palm was firmly pressed against her calf to halt the bleeding. He was thankful that the adrenaline was numbing the pain till they could make it to the shop.

She’d wince every time he adjusted his slippery grip, instinctively turning her head into the crook of his neck. That didn’t cross his mind till much later.

When she attempted talking once or twice, he furiously shushed her each time. “Save your energy. You’ll need it.”

When Isaac skidded to a stop in the garage, Colt tossed his keys Isaac’s way. “Take my car and get out of the city for a few days. Lay low. I’ll clean this one up and it’ll be good as new when you come back.”

Isaac nodded, brows furrowed. “I should’ve… I knew it was gonna go south but I should’ve tried to convince you again –”

Colt held up a hand. “You were right, and I should’ve trusted your gut instinct, and I will from now on. This is solely on me. Don’t blame yourself.”

He nodded, hopping out of the car, sliding into Colt’s convertible, and disappearing into the night.

He’d managed to get Raquel into the apartment and onto the worn leather couch in the office – she was pale and clammy, flitting in and out of being fully aware of what was going on.

“Colt… I can clean up my leg, just… just give me a second to catch my breath,” she said, her eyes drooping closed.

“Absolutely not. Give me a second. I’m trying to find the goddamn gauze but I don’t see it anywhere –”

He was glad his back was turned, because he was shaking in terror and rage in a way he hadn’t in a long time.

The first aid kit clattered out of his hands and onto the desk, and he cursed, gripping the side of the desk till his knuckles were bright white and screaming at him to let go.

“Colt…” she whispered. “I’ll be fine. I’m just hurting.”

He dragged a chair to her side, propping her ankle up against his knee before getting to work cutting a thin line up the outer seam of her jeans. The blood trickled onto his own leg, saturating the denim of his pant leg immediately.

“Are you gonna ignore me the whole time you work on my leg?” She joked, wincing. “Fuck –”

The scissors were close to the wound, and he tried his best to stretch it away from it before cutting further.

“Sorry,” he murmured, grabbing two rags and dousing it in hydrogen peroxide. He rolled up the second one, handing it to Raquel.

She sighed shakily before stuffing it into her mouth, digging her fingers into the cracked leather of the couch.

She nodded once, giving him the sign to get it over with.

The second the damp rag touched her bloodied skin, she panted through her nose, eyes screwed shut.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” He grunted, grimacing as her thigh bucked against his hand, despite him trying to hold her in place.

When he touched the wound, she screamed, devolving into choked, muffled sobs.

He’d made a vow to make sure she never cried over Logan again, and instead he’d broken his promise by putting her in direct danger over and over and over again.

There was no reason for her to accompany them on jobs – she knew the risk, and didn’t care, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t stop her from coming.

No matter how hard he tried, he was always the reason she was getting hurt.

“This is all my fault,” he said, when he’d finished cleaning her wound. “I should’ve never let you come along to our trades.”

She scrubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, a couple stray tears still glistening across her temples. “I wanted to be a part of this. Like you said to Isaac, you can’t blame yourself for this.”

“I don’t care what you say, alright? It was my fucking fault and you should’ve never been a part of this life.”

“Colt.”

He glanced up, barely able to meet her gaze.

“Whether you want to admit it or not, I’ve been a part of this life for nearly ten years now. I’m almost thirty. You’re closer to thirty than me. I know what I’ve gotten myself into, and I’m sticking by you regardless of the risk on my life.”

She slipped a clammy hand over his, which still held her thigh firmly in place. “If I lose my life on a job, I don’t regret it at all. I’d never regret meeting you.”

She took a labored breath, laying back against the armrest. “That took a lot out of me.”

Colt shook his head. “Stop talking. You need your energy.”

Raquel rolled her eyes. “I try being nice to you and you ignore it every time.”

“I just don’t know what the fuck to say to that. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that, huh?” He asked incredulously.

She blinked, her eyes narrowing. “I just got fucking shot, and you’re cursing at me while asking me to be your therapist? Am I hearing that right?”

He picked up his bloodied hands from her leg and threw them up in the air. “I have a lot going on in my head right now, and I’m not trying to fight you or get you to be my fuckin’ therapist, alright? I’m just confused.” He was barely below a shout, his chest heaving when he was done.

“I can’t read your mind, Colt. I’m kind of delirious with blood loss right now, so the least you can do is not yell at me and ask me politely to slate this conversation for later,” she said firmly, wincing while she shifted on the couch.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he panted, shrugging his stained black thermal off. He tossed it to the side, revealing his equally as bloodied white tee.

He slipped that shirt off, too, tearing the shirt into long strips.

Raquel watched him, her brown eyed gaze one of both confusion and something more he couldn’t place and didn’t care to think about.

Wordlessly, he plopped back down, tying the shredded strips above the wound on her calf, fingertips grazing her skin as delicately as he could manage.

He let his hands linger for a bit too long, staring at the open wound on her leg.

Daring a look her way, Colt caught her watching him with a soft gaze, one that he hadn’t earned.

“You’re not mad at me for being there tonight… you’re mad at yourself for not protecting me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded once.

“You’re hoping that this makes me want to leave, because you won’t ask me yourself. You don’t want me to leave.”

He nodded again, glancing away from her.

After a long silence and avoidance of turning her way, she spoke first.

“You’re worried I don’t feel the same.”

He froze, dropping his hands from her leg. She was right, but if he admitted to it and she still didn’t feel the same, then what was he risking all this shit for?

Why was he still clinging onto the hope that she’d feel the same if nine years of pining was seconds away from being thrown out the window?

Mustering up his remaining courage, he nodded one last time.

And when he looked at her that time, she was beaming. Through the excruciating pain, she was smiling.

He broke first, scooting to the edge of his chair to get as close as he could. “What?”

“It’s funny that you were worried we weren’t on the same page. I think we might’ve been for a long time,” she laughed, hoarse and weak, but it was still her laugh that he loved so much.

“What do you mean?”

And then she said the words that he’d desperately needed to hear for nearly a decade.

“I came for Logan but I stayed for you.”

Once Raquel admitted that to him, he was all in. Completely committed, never faltering.

Their first kiss was anything but, the sensation one of nine years of pent up feelings from Colt’s end, and years of her own. Their first kiss was more of a sealant of their future (and their fate).

Their first kiss was everything Colt had dreamed of.

He kissed her like she was air and he was drowning and she was filling his lungs to the brim, her warmth spreading from his insides out.

She didn’t pull away after the first one, and neither did he.

For who knew how long, he was on his knees next to the bloodied couch, cupping her face with his palms, and kissing her like he had a decade of missed opportunities to make up for.

After that, they were inseparable.

And he never doubted her devotion to him again.

They fell into a routine of working at the shop together during the day and into the late hours of the night after everyone had left, before stumbling upstairs into Colt’s apartment, lips locked, hands roaming.

And she drove him to every job from then on, easily evading cops and maneuvering the underbelly of L.A. like it was second nature.

Colt waded into the warm water, barely feeling it as it lapped at his ankles, calves, thighs.

When he was waist deep, he opted to float on his back, using the opportunity to revel in the star littered sky. One he didn’t get to see too often in the heavily light polluted sky of Los Angeles. Was this really the same sky he’d lived under all these years?

He didn’t really plan on marrying Raquel.

It was never in the sleazy way where he was going to leave her the second he got what he wanted – he was content being with her. Living with her. Kissing her. Loving her.

But he didn’t think he needed to go through the motions because that’s supposedly what people in love did. He figured it was enough to spend his life with her without doing all the extra shit.

She brought it up first, nearly four years later.

At that point, he moved into her father’s house with her – they’d crash in Colt’s old apartment above the shop if they were too tired to drive home.

They were curled up on the old futon in his room, huddling under the blankets, and she was curled against his side, drawing circles through his short tuft of chest hair.

“We should get married.”

“Hmm?” He asked, in a haze, nearly drifting off to sleep before she’d spoken.

“You heard me.”

“You really wanna?”

“Well, yeah. I’ve always wanted to get married, even when I was a little girl.”

He kissed the top of her head, squeezing her closer.

“You’ve always been a daydreamer then,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, I used to dig up my old Easter dresses and strut into the living room asking my Dad to walk me down the aisle.”

“And did he?”

She laughed, lifting her head to get a good look at him. “Yep. Walked me right down the hallway and back to my room to change me out of my clothes.”

Her face fell a bit despite the fond memory. “I think I care more about it now because I know my parents won’t be there. It feels like if I don’t get married, I’m breaking a promise, as dumb as that sounds.”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t sound dumb at all, sweetheart. I don’t care what we do as long as it makes you happy.”

She smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss on his lips. “I love you.”

Wrapping her up in a hug, he kisses her back with fervor, echoing her sentiment in the form of mumbling against her lips. I love you.

Roughly a year later, they opted for a quick courthouse wedding and a honeymoon that consisted of staying in bed all day and ordering food to build back the calories they’d burned.

Around that time, Raquel reconnected with some of her only living relatives on her Dad’s side. She’d gotten close to a few of her distant cousins, and they convinced her to have a small ceremony for their family in Belize.

And fifteen years after he’d met Raquel, on the cusp of spring and summer, he married her again in front of an intimate crowd and kissed her like it was their first time.

He’d complained about having to ass kiss her judgemental old relatives, but he didn’t really mind. Seeing her in a white dress, beaming like it was the best day of her life, was enough to make any issue nothing but a minor annoyance.

“Hey!”

Colt swirled his arms in the water till he was upright again, grinning when he noticed the bright red lines on her face – she’d clearly just woken up.

“Hey, sweetheart. You sleep okay?”

“Come back to bed,” she asked, pointing at the back door of their beach house.

He tipped his chin at her. “You come out here.”

She rolled her eyes, before tearing off her nightgown, running towards the water at full speed, no hesitation.

He caught her in his arms, letting her wrap her legs comfortably around his waist while he waded out to deeper waters.

“Ugh. I was having a good dream, too, until I realized the bed was empty,” she grumbled, looping her arms tighter around his neck.

“Sorry about that. I promise next time I’ll wake you up before I head out.”

She nodded, content with his answer.

They were both chest deep in the water, faces close, the soft rays from the moon the only light they had.

“Why’d you bring me out here, Colt?” She murmured, eyes flitting to his lips, which were upturned in a soft smile.

“I was just thinking. This spring makes fifteen years since I met you.”

She hugged him, pressing a kiss on his cheek. “And only, like, six years since we came to our senses.”

He laughed heartily, squeezing her tighter around the waist. “You’re right.”

“Remember when we jumped off the cliff together?” He asked.

“Yeah, of course. It was the first time I ever felt a spark with you,” she grinned. “Took a long time for it to turn into a flame, though.”

“That was the first time I knew I loved you,” he admitted. “I wanted to kiss you so badly and I kicked myself in the ass for years for not trying –”

She cut him off with a passionate kiss, her tongue slipping into his mouth almost as soon as his mouth moved in tandem with hers. It was the sloppy, unplanned kiss he’d envisioned for that day.

“I think everything worked out for the better. I’m not sure we were ready for each other back then,” she said honestly, her forehead pressed against his.

“We needed to grow a little bit before falling in love, huh? You’re so smart,” he said, voice low, pressing another kiss to her lips.

“Yeah, and now we’ve got the rest of our lives.”

She was right (like she always was), and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge in his chest like he’d felt many times before.

He’d waited that damn long for her, so he was going to savor the rest of their life together as much as he could.

#playchoices #choices rod #rodaw #rodtimecapsule #colt kaneko #colt kaneko x mc #jade writes choices fics #cw: injury #cw: guns #cw: blood #tw wounds #tw injury

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harlot-of-oblivion · 3 years

Text

Sowing the Seeds of Lasting Love (Part 10)

Vergil helps you with a flowery dilemma before the wedding.

The big day is finally here! Hope you enjoy! 🌹😘🌹

Chapter 1: White Heather

When Nero first told his father about the wedding, he explained that they wanted to keep it nice and simple, only inviting family and close friends to the ceremony. But now that the big day is upon them, Vergil notices that the ceremony is still nice but definitely not simple. And it seems they’ve decided to invite all of Fortuna going by all the numerous names he hardly recognizes in the guest log!

But there’s one name that he knows very well on the very first page…your neat yet bubbly handwriting is indistinguishable among the cursive chaos.

Vergil smiles but then remembers himself as the hustle and bustle of people whiz around the venue’s entryway. He quickly closes the guest book before striding away from wandering eyes, seeking refuge from the morning mayhem before the wedding. But you always manage to wriggle your way back into his mind, occupying his every thought…especially now that he’s confessed his feelings and tasted your kiss. Just the mere memory of your velvety lips parting for his tongue make his cheeks burn with a slight blush!

The lovestruck devil shakes these desirous thoughts out of his head as he approaches one of the designated dressing rooms for the wedding party. He quietly slips in and examines himself in the three-way mirror, checking his appearance and immaculate suit for any obvious flaws. The refined paisley pattern of his dark blue wedding coat contrasts well with the silky black lapels and matching blue vest. He wrings the black bow with a grimace, wishing it were an elegant cravat instead as he adjusts it around the stark white collar of his shirt. Then, he scrutinizes the rest of his suit, noting the pristine matching dress pants and spotless black formal shoes with an approving nod.

This well-tailored ensemble will surely bring that endearing blush to my beloved rose’s cheeks, he muses with a confident chuckle while raking his fingers through his silvery white hair.

The thought of you creeps into his mind again, but he allows himself to reminisce in the privacy of the dressing room. He didn’t have much of a chance to let the events of the previous day fully sink in until now; the time between storming out of the shop and arriving at your doorstep is still a bit hazy. But the warmth of your humble abode, the steaming hot water of your shower, and the comfort of your soothing lullaby and tranquil heartbeat as he fell asleep in your embrace…now that he remembers quite well!

Vergil also recalls how he swallowed his pride before baring his soul to you, practically pouring every ounce of sincere fervor from within his heart as he revealed his true feelings. And despite hearing all about his past trauma and doubtful hesitancy in matters of romance…you still accepted him with unconditional love, releasing the mounting tension between both of you as he finally gave into his desire by capturing your lips with a passionate kiss. The cadence of your soft gasps and lingering moans, the thorough strokes of your tongue, and the feel of your body beneath him…it all felt so good.

But it’s not enough.

He wants more…he needs more…

A sudden shriek of distress from outside interrupts his amorous ruminations. His eyes widen in alarm as he rushes out the dressing room door, following the dreadful tone of your voice all the way to the venue’s kitchen. And he’s not the only one to come running to rescue; a couple of the staff and Dante burst in with a look of concern. But you barely notice their presence as you continue to stare into the large walk-in freezer with a horrified face.

“What’s going on, Buttercup?”

“Are you hurt?”

Both brothers slowly approach as you turn around to face them. You meet each of their eyes for a moment…then, you take a deep breath and scream at the top of your lungs:

“FLOWER EMERGENCY!”

Your enraged declaration bellows through the kitchen, making some of the staff jump as you dash towards a countertop. You unpin the delicate flower crown upon your head, being mindful of the white heather blooms and bleeding hearts flowers. Then, you carefully remove it and place it on top of the counter before tying your hair into a low ponytail at the nape of your neck.

Dante lets out a low whistle. “It must be really bad if the flower crown’s coming off!”

“What happened?” Vergil asks while giving his idiotic brother a warning glare.

You turn back around with an exasperated sigh. “I told them to NOT put any peonies to the freezer under no circumstances!” you exclaim, angrily marching into the frigidly cold room with both brothers in tow. “But now look! Almost half of the centerpieces have wilted!” you bemoan while pointing at a group of flowers in fine crystals vases.

Vergil inspects the various peonies in question and immediately understands why you’re so distraught. A vast majority of their petals have shriveled up and turned brown, completely ruined just before the wedding. The sight of you biting your lip and pulling your hair in worry wrenches the growing prickling knot within his chest.

“Is there anything I can do?” he inquires, gently grabbing your shoulders while staring down into your glistening eyes.

Your brow furrows in thought. “I might be able to salvage some of them with fresher blooms…but they’re all back at my garden’s workshop!” you inform while glancing down towards his waist. “Could I borrow the Yamato for a bit?” you implore sweetly as your lips curl into a charming grin.

Vergil smirks at your hopeful plea. “But of course.”

You beam up at him a grateful smile, unwinding the discomforting knot in his chest as you instruct the staff to haul all the half-frozen flowers into the kitchen. Both brothers stay out of your way while sharing intrigued glances, clearly impressed with your command over a highly stressful situation. Your eyes squint at the withered half of the centerpieces, mentally weighing how many more flowers you need to fix them.

“Hmm, we may need to take one more person to haul all the flowers back in one trip.”

Dante perks up with a wide grin. “I can tag along!”

“I’m more than capable of carrying all the flowers without assistance,” Vergil boldly claims with a determined nod.

“Oh really? I see…” Dante trails off while giving him a knowing grin. “You just wanna be alone so you can put your tulips togeth- WHOA!” he exclaims as multiple spectral swords surround him. “Hey! Don’t ruin the suit, big bro!”

A low and irritable growl emanates from Vergil’s throat. “Cease your prattling and go help Nero,” he demands while relenting to his foolish brother’s request, calling off the summoned swords from shredding his black and red suit to pieces.

Dante lets out a disappointing groan as he stalks out of the kitchen, grumbling under his breath about how all this waiting around is boring. Vergil rolls his eyes and shakes his head before directing his attention back to you, paying no mind to the staff’s slightly perturbed faces while offering his arm. You wrap your hand around the crook of his elbow with an amused giggle and follow him out of the kitchen.

Vergil heads to the closest room with enough space before summoning the Yamato with a flick of his wrist. He insists that you stand back before unsheathing the blade and slicing the air with two intersecting slashes. Then, he sheaths the Yamato with a loud click of the hilt as the portal opens with a bright blue flash. You grab his hand and run through its threshold, popping up just outside the back gate behind your cozy home.

You quickly undo the latch and dash towards your outdoor workshop with Vergil hot on your heels. The overwhelming perfume of your impressive garden brings a fond smile to his face as both of you run down winding paths between lush flowers and trimmed bushes. He pulls ahead a little when you get closer to the workshop, reaching out and opening the door with a courteous nod as you enter with a sigh of gratitude. You flip the light switch before scurrying off towards a large cold case full of fresh blooms.

Vergil enters the workshop as you begin counting out the number of flowers you have on hand. He shuts the door and lingers close behind you, patiently waiting for your next directive while taking in your pleasing visage. But you seem to not notice his blatant gaze, diligently focused on taking inventory as you take out a step stool to count the flowers on the top shelf. His eyes wander down your dainty body, admiring the delicate flowers embroidered on the lovely pink dress that brings out your natural charm and radiant grace.

Your pensive hum breaks him out of his adoring stupor. “Looks like I have plenty of yellow peonies but not enough white ones,” you inform with a disheartening pout.

“Can you substitute them with another flower?” he suggests, recalling your lesson on improvising a bouquet when he helped you arrange one for a customer.

You ponder for a moment. “I do have some white hydrangeas!” you exclaim with a victorious grin while turning to look at him. “Can you- Ah!”

Your feet wobble as you let out a startled squeal, losing your balance on the step stool before tipping over towards the ground. But Vergil surges forward and catches you within his protective embrace, wrapping his arms around your small frame.

“Oh snapdragons,” you murmur while clasping the lapels of his coat.

Vergil smirks at your stunned exclamation. “Are you okay?”

Your lips curl into a gracious. “Yes! And it’s all thanks to my darling devil!”

“You should be more careful, my beloved rose,” he murmurs while looking down at you in concern. “It pains me to see you hurt,” he admits as the gravity of this intimate situation takes control.

Vergil bows his head as you raise yourself up onto your tippy toes, slowly drawing closer and closer until your bated breath caresses his starving mouth. Then, he gently presses his lips against yours, letting out a pleased hum when you return his tender kiss with enthusiastic passion. You let out a delightful sigh as he withdraws from your lips with a warm smile.

“I’ve longed to do that again since yesterday morning.”

“Me too,” you agree. “We didn’t have much of a chance to talk more at the rehearsal dinner either,” you remind while averting your gaze with a coy smirk.

“Between the chaotic run-through of the ceremony and our rushed practice session,” he recalls, nuzzling your face until your lips brush his eager mouth. “What a most inconvenient time to confess.”

“Since when has love ever been convenient?” you muse with a playful peck. “We’ll have more time to talk after our performance,” you pause as he presses a soft kiss above the corner of your mouth. “And during the reception,” you finish before capturing his lips with your needy kiss.

Vergil growls as his tongue brushes against your lower lip, silently requesting for entry as you wrap your arms around his neck. You part your mouth for him, softly moaning while meeting every stroke of his questing tongue. He basks in your intoxicating scent, so flowery and arousing…the devil inside him clamors to claim you as his own. But he’s able to clamp that instinct down, prolonging that inevitable need when the time is right…which will definitely be later since the door of your workshop bursts open with a loud crack.

“Fiddlin’ Firs!” you exclaims, hastily jumping back from his embrace as the spectral form of his devilish side peeks in with an expectant look.

“Be at ease,” he soothes you with a swift peck against your brow. “It’s only my doppelganger.”

You squint as his phantom form points at the white hydrangeas it collected just outside your workshop. “But he looks so much different than you!” you note with a curious tilt of your head.

Vergil chuckles at your subtle suspicion. “Remember what I told you,” he whispers close to your ear, “the power of Sparda is vast and you have yet to see an ounce of its potential.”

You shiver as he kisses your neck. “Does the power of Sparda include sweeping sweet gardeners off their feet?”

“I’m not certain,” he remarks, “but it does include…how did you put it?” He tilts his head in thought. “Ah! Charming the petals off of a lovely rose,” he reveals with a smirk while meeting your ardent gaze. Your cheeks grow pink as he dips back down for another kiss…but his doppelganger stops him from indulging in your velvety lips again with its impatient scratching at the door.

You stifle a giggle as he growls irritably at his spectral self. “We better head back with these flowers,” you reason with a sweet smile. “Don’t wanna be late to your own son’s wedding!”

Vergil reluctantly withdraws from you with an agreeing nod. He helps you collect all yellow peonies and white hydrangeas into several flower trays. You manage to pick up a few of them as he opens up another portal with the Yamato, silently commanding his doppelganger to carry as many flowers as possible before following them back into the venue’s kitchen.

A chorus of various shocked gasps and cries from the astonished staff greets them, but they all scamper away as the monstrously tall spectral devil enters the room. You put the flower trays down on a nearby table with a sigh of relief, softly hoping that this sliver of peace and quiet would last as you fix the ruined centerpiece in a timely manner. Your lips curl into a pleased smile when you turn to see his doppelganger wagging its tail proudly next to all the flower trays it dropped off by your makeshift worktable.

The sound of rushed footsteps gets their immediate attention just as the wedding planner enters the kitchen with a worried grimace. You explain the current state of the flowers but assure her that you have everything under control now. She nods her head with a relieved smirk while side-eying the spectral devil standing next to you, clearly curious but not commenting on it as she informs Vergil that the groom’s party is taking their place at this very moment.

“You’re certain that you can do all of this without any assistance?” he inquires as the wedding planner leaves the kitchen.

“Of course! Just be-leaf in me,” you reply with a cheery grin before giggling as he scoffs at your ridiculously bad pun. “Buuuut I wouldn’t mind if you let him stay and help!” you suggest while pointing at his doppelganger, who is currently helping you arrange the assortment of flowers on the table.

Vergil ponders for a moment before nodding his head. “Very well…but you better be on your best behavior!” he instructs his spectral self with a suspicious glare. You laugh as his doppelganger shrugs its shoulders defensively while shaking its horned head.

“And I’ll meet you backstage as soon as I can before our performance,” he softly affirms, swiftly pulling you in close for a quick kiss before heading out of the kitchen.

It only takes him a few minutes to arrive at the designated place outside on the beach. Many of the guests are already in their seats along the elegant runner leading all the way down to a modest arch wrapped in white silky ribbon with sunflowers and blue delphiniums. He can hear their excited murmurs over the soft crashing of the nearby surf as he makes his way towards his assigned spot on the groom’s side.

Nero is already standing in front of the arch, shifting around nervously while adjusting the blue dahlia boutonniere pinned to his crisp white suit. He looks up as his father approaches him and immediately pulls out a matching boutonniere from inside his coat pocket. Vergil gives him a gracious nod while pinning the delicate bloom to the lapel of his coat.

“Is everything alright?” his soon-to-be wedded son asks with a soft whisper as classical music starts playing over the ecstatic chatter of the guests.

“It’s nothing for you to be concerned about,” Vergil assures while looking out into the gathering crowd of unfamiliar faces. “Everything is under control.”

Nero nods with an anxious swallow. “Yeah…okay.”

Vergil quirks a brow at his son. “Nervous?”

“What? No!” Nero exclaims in a hushed whisper. “Well…maybe a little,” he admits while scratching the back of his head.

“Don’t sweat it, kid!” Dante exclaims as he pops up behind both of them. “You’ve got this!” he adds with an encourage pat on his nephew’s back.

“I must agree with your fool of an uncle for once,” Vergil avows as everyone begins to quiet down.

His son responds with a grateful smile as the ceremony starts with the wedding officiant taking their place in front of the arch. The music gradually swells as the bridal party walks down the aisle with their beautiful dresses and lovely bouquets…except Nico, who proudly struts down in her black suit. She grins while taking her place as the Best Woman, cheekily wiggling her eyebrows at Nero when everyone stands up for the bridal march.

The crashing waves in the distance grow quiet as Kyrie slowly makes her way down the aisle, leaving only the collective gasps of the guest’s to accompany the sweet melody of her march. She clutches her bouquet of sunflowers below her chest as her pure white dress flutters softly in the sea breeze. Her lips curl into a sunny smile beneath her tulle veil when she sees Nero staring in awe at her warm and graceful beauty. But he snaps out of his amazed daze as soon as his soon-to-be wife reaches the arch, reaching for her hand with a small smirk before facing the wedding officiant together.

An array of emotions fills the salty air as the ceremony commences; one moment there’s silent admiration with some light laughter in between the simple rituals of matrimony, but then there’s plenty of soft sniffling and happy tears as the officiant guides them through their vows. Even the Dark Slayer isn’t immune to the palpable emotions surrounding him, unexpectedly getting misty eyed as they exchange rings and promises of eternal devotion.

Vergil happens to catch sight of you lurking behind the guests, seemingly watching the ceremony but mostly staring at him with a smitten smile upon your lips. He suddenly finds himself pondering about the prospect of marriage while blinking away his unshed tears. The image of his beloved rose dressed all in white drifts across his mind and he can’t help but to smirk at the thought of settling down with someone like you.

Your eyes widen when you finally notice him staring right back at you with his affectionate gaze. You look away bashfully while your flushed cheeks glow as red as the bleeding heart flowers upon your head. His lips curve into an endearing smile as the officiant allows Nero and Kyrie to seal their blissful union with a kiss. And as everyone showers the newly wedded couple with periwinkle petals, he realizes just how lucky he was to come upon such a lovely rose among his briars.

🌹🌹🌹

Tagging: @drusoona @bettybattaglia @exsultry @thedyingmoon @veenus-ow @meowykittenn @fandomhell97 @vergilsangel @thenightgazer @cherryvane @yesno18 @diabeticsugarush @queenmuzz @mary-v-o-n @tinamalee @a-midsummer-nights-odyssey @ancientwhitefire @agentdedf1sh @divinity-deos @shiranyaaww @skarlet-red-rose @lucinalu219 @superluckystar

#vergil #vergil x reader #devil may cry #dmc #a rose among the briars #Sowing the Seeds of Lasting Love #IT'S FINALLY HERE YAYYY #this is the first out of three chapters for this part 👀#hope ya'll enjoy all the shenanigans and sweet kisses!#harlot writes

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mrsmalfoymagic · 3 years

Text

Card Five

I didn’t take long to find its owner. There seemed to be a force between the two of us to always find each other in a crowd. Like gravity pulling me to him.

And as my eyes made their way towards the fireplace, finally catching glimpse of Remus Lupin hunched into the heat, lost in a book as he always was, I began to blush.

I put down my own and tried to delicately approach as to not startle him. He had a reputation for being clumsy, and - whilst holding a novel beside an open fire, I didn’t like his chances.

“Uh, Remus.” I announced quietly. He jerked his head up, face filling with crimson as he acknowledged me.

“Y/n. Hi.”

We’d only ever spent any length of time around each other at the library where we’d reside solitarily during our free periods or stupidly late hours. We were never ones for small talk, so outside of class I don’t believe we’d had a single conversation. In fact, I don’t believe I’d ever even heard him speak.

My face replicated the same blood red as his and I squinted awkwardly, holding up his card to inform him of our fates.

“I picked you.”

“Oh. Alright. I suppose we should go.” His accent was strong and educated, but anxious and timid. He stood, brushing down his robes and poising himself straight, shadowing over me and blocking the cloud of warmth crackling behind him.

His manner was polite as he assisted me through our classmates towards the cupboard. I had expected nothing less than chivalry of him. We were library partners, but never confirmed it through spoken – or even written word. The only exchanges placed were little smiles from above our pages, stealing glances between our world-escaping plights. Like perfectly placed bindings in time. Baring ourselves at our peak vulnerabilities to share in each other’s entertainment.

Despite the immensity of its size, we’d somehow know to not stray too far apart in the library; subconsciously finding our settlements a few tables apart, but always managing to achieve a perfect opposing line of vision; allowing the ability to master responses to new books or topics by the speed in which we completed them, the oftenest of locking eyes, or - in Remus’ case - if he’d fall asleep against the spreadeagle spine; something he seemed to do a lot.

No, I didn’t know him, admittedly, but from these - our shared moments, I had come to recognise enough of his behaviours to learn he was wise above his age, caring and loyal beyond measure.

Yet somewhere, I sensed a fragility. Like a goose-feathered pillow hiding deeply an explosion that didn’t have a specific means of detonation.

He lit up the room as we entered. The door which Sirius and James were ardently protecting locked behind us and my cheeks burnt with nervousness. This wasn’t my usual idea of fun, but keeping myself under the radar with my classmates, I consenting to participating. And who better to face the music with than Remus Lupin. Without even knowing the remainder of cards still yet to be drawn, he was the best of all outcomes. I’d already made my silent connections with him. He’d become a peaceful existence in my life. But I wasn’t used to these interactions and felt lost in the realisation of this game’s objectives.

So as much as my inexperienced-self wished, there was no cowering behind books in here.

“Hello.” He grinned, again barely uttering. His cheeks expanded broadly through his expression and I couldn’t help but giggle. He was a charming discovery, to say the least. And despite my trembling fingers clasping behind my back, I felt safe.

“Any closer to finishing that book?” He took a step towards me, “I couldn’t help but notice it was a hardship.”

“Not at all. It’s my Astronomy class. Ironically, I feel I’m learning less the more I read about it.”

Another step closer.

“Perhaps I could help. What part are you studying?”

“Selenography. The moon.”

His smile widened and he was now upon me; directly in my space; his brogues hitting the tips of my own. There was a new glint in his heavy, restful eyes. No doubt his lack of sleep was from staying up all night reading new books.

“I know a thing or two.” His voice was gentle, almost seductive.

What I couldn’t help but note was his odour – crisp pages and the incense of ink. He had ash residue on his robes from the spitting logs, and I could still smell the fire against him. It was addictive and was guaranteed the blame to my momentary out of character response.

“You’re still talking about my class, right?”

I couldn’t believe it - it just came out. I shocked myself realising I was flirting.

He reacted coolly but tilted his head with a squint of curiosity.

“No, I don’t believe I am.” His expression suddenly shared the same self-intrigue as mine. We were both flirting.

Taken aback by his own response, he tried a subtle retreat, but began to stumble over his robes; hobbling backwards to catch himself until eventually, with a small grunt, landed harshly against the door with a shocking bang.

He was intelligent and adorable beyond compare, but heavens, was he uncoordinated.

“Damn it.” He cursed, gripping on the doorframe to support himself upright.

“You two alright in there?” Sirius yelled out on the adjacent side of the door with a few determined knocks.

“Yes.” Remus replied loudly in an irritated mortification and lowered his face into his palms.

I watched him for a moment, a glint of pity against the reassuring smile I had pinned to my lips in case he looked up. Until suddenly, and unexpectedly, I started to laugh.

It was provoked by shyness and pure embarrassment, I was sure - feeling the knot cripple me into submission and before I knew it, I was wiping the tears out of my eyes and steadying myself against the stone wall.

“Sorry.” I breathed, believing my response was humiliating him further. But, as my hands fell back to my sides, they grazed at the form of Remus, who had now approached me again.

I looked up to find his manner bothered. His eyes blinked harshly as he considered himself.

“May I?” he asked, lifting his hand, and holding it upright towards my cheek. I nodded, keeping my eyes firmly on his fluttering ones.

Using the stub of his index finger, he carefully tucked the falling wave of hair behind my ear. Exhaling in relief, a new smile formed upon his full lips, like he had just performed a task of great difficulty.

“I can’t do justice to the full expression,” He muttered kindly whilst still admiring the tiny details of my facial outline, “But you have an entrancing effect on me.”

His fingers were now lacing around the curls against my shoulder, inspecting the silky texture.

“You aren’t to understand. I would never expect you to.”

After half a minute of combing at my hair and being lost in reverie, he gulped away a forming sorrow before lowering his head on his shoulders.

”I wish it were as simple as telling you.”

I pinched at his chin and lifted his face to find mine once again, showcasing the similar smile I had previously.

“Then show me.” I said softly.

In any other setting I would be out of place with these interactions, but with Remus, it all felt natural.

He considered my words for a moment and the seriousness of my focus against his almond eyes, before finding my hand.

“Are you ready for your first Astronomy lesson?” his lip ticked to a short smile.

I nodded innocently and allowed Remus to direct me out of the closet and begin heading towards the Astronomy tower.

We walked in silence, making sure to hide in the shadows of the halls and columns whenever we suspected a prefect or professor was heading our way, before at long last we made it to the highest point of the castle. The Astronomy tower was webbed with rails and structures, architectural beams lined the extent of the room. A brass sundial pointed outwards towards the cloudless evening. Golden and intricately detailed telescopes were poised at all four corners of the open bays.

Other than the basic tools to marvel at the heavens, there was little as far as interior to the tower – its masterpiece of course being the view it held - displaying full range of vision to every area of Hogwarts including as distant as elements of the Forbidden Forest.

Staying adamantly in the darkness of the room, Remus issued me towards the centre directly in front of the magnificent global display, illuminated by the full moon now baring down from the midnight hour and in through the widest, banistered opening which welcomed a deadly, multi-story drop.

“Lesson one.” He started, wandering in the pitch blackness. His voice rippled through the tower, “The moon is separated into three parts. The light, dark… and grey.” He hesitated.

“I’ve been studying the light side. You know, the part we can see through a telescope.” I informed naively.

“Right. And the dark is not all that important. The grey area, however, is what I want to talk about.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“For good reason.” I lost him in the night, but could sense the trouble in his tone, “So before I tell you, are you absolutely sure you want to know?”

I shuffled in my spot, a sense of discomfort overcoming me but nodded; knowing that – despite not seeing him – he had firm eyes on me.

“Then rest assured, whatever the outcome, I won’t hurt you.”

The suddenness of the claim trickled unease against my spine. What was I doing here? What was Remus going to do?

That feeling of safety never seemed to slip away but I knew with any ounce of logic, I should never have followed him here. And, as a group of footsteps and voice came from the entrance, these newcomers felt the same too.

“What are you doing? Have you gone barmy?” Sirius Black yelled out as he fully emerged into the room, tailed closely by the two final Marauders, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew. They’d clearly chased us here from the party, knowing the suspicious activities Remus was due to perform.

“Moony, don’t be stupid.” James insulted with a knowing attitude. It was as if they all had a sense of understanding of the situation. All except me.

I could hear the shuffle of feet ahead of me in the closest area of shade and knew Remus was before me.

“Wait. I just want to try. Trust me.” His arms appeared from the distance and held out in a terrible attempt of reassurance, but he was unconvinced himself.

“In the castle? In front of her?” Sirius directed his attention to where I was stood, a wave of worry across his brow.

“You know what will happen if you take that step.” Peter reminded - his eyes focused on the blinding of the full moon upon the rest of us. I followed his sights, still trying to piece together this encounter.

“I’ll handle it. I’m ready.”

Remus took a single step closer making way towards the lit-up ground. James, unannounced, lifted his wand and licked his top lip anxiously.

“You know I don’t want to hurt you.” He recoiled, his wand ready and pointed, and face contorted in anguish.

“You won’t have to. I promise. Y/n…” he found my hard and intense eyes. I could feel it.

“Remus, what’s going on?” I pleaded; my tremoring hands now unable to settle.

“Y/n, get behind me.” Sirius stood forward, reaching over for my hand, “Now.”

I didn’t take it.

“Let’s all just calm down, alright.” Remus was more impatient, “I think I know what prevents it. I can stop this.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Please, y/n.” James warned, his hand tightened on the wand still firmly fixed on his friend.

“Before you.” Remus resumed, “Before I ever met you, I was dangerous.”

The sound of another shuffle.

“Lupin – “ Sirius cautioned lowly, now standing in front of me to shield me.

“- Let me finish.” His voice was irritable now, feeling the hostility of the room become dense in his breath, “I was terrified of myself. The darkness inside was overwhelming. I began to go the library to distract myself. I thought it a good place to escape. It was safe, away from prying eyes. Away from who I really am; a monster.“

“- Are you sure you want her to know?” Peter questioned. Remus ignored him. And so did I.

“You’re not a monster, Remus. I at least know that about you.”

My voice was begging, filled with panic and honesty. I heard a half-hearted sigh.

“When I saw you, everything changed. I finally felt at ease.”

He took a slow step towards the light and we could at last see him. His eyes were low and his expression solemn. The boys stirred.

“And over time I slowly realised it had nothing to do with where I was at all. I’d found comfort in where you were. So -”

As he was about to take the last move into the direct beam of the moon, Sirius jerked forward.

“Really think about this, Remus. What this will do.”

Remus pursed his lips together defiantly and took a brave inhale through his nostrils, before moving aside, burning himself in the glow.

The boys all flinched and reacted in alarm. For a moment they seemed reassured as nothing happened. Remus’ eyes remained closed and face deep in concentration.

We all stared onwards, my breath heavy and out of sync.

Then out of nowhere, Remus’ body began to seize, an agony crippling him in half. He began to cry out in pain, his voice becoming hoarse from the scream.

Sirius’ stance against me widened as he paced forward, and with a confirming nod to James, began to hunch himself over. I was frozen in disorientation; completely useless to help him because I had no clue what was causing any of this. James had not fired any spells; Sirius had not flung himself at him yet. There was no logical explanation for his reaction - his turmoil. Or even theirs.

“Remus, I’ll have to change.” Sirius looked over his brow at him, bracing himself.

“No!” Remus desperately reached his arm out, preventing him. He fell to his knees, soaring in twitching intensity.

“Y/n, you really ought to go.” Peter said with a quiver in his voice as he approached me.

“She stays.” Remus wheezed, “She needs to know.”

And suddenly I did. Like a jolt of lightening to my system. Him saying that - I knew. I finally knew.

The library. The restless sleep. The grey part of the moon. Somewhere in my subconscious I had read it during my studies. This was it - his detonation.

Remus Lupin was a werewolf.

“Remus, this is ridiculous. James!” Sirius looked to the wand, but before James could do anything, I had bypassed the chaos and, fuelled by unprecedented compassion, made way towards Remus.

Kneeling before him, I rested my hand against the trembling, vein-popping one gripping at the cold floor. Sirius aimed for us, but Peter held his robe and pulled him back, suspecting my intentions.

“Remus, you don’t have to prove this to me. This isn’t who you are.”

He was looking down, begging for release from the boiling against his skin.

“I can control it, I swear. I just –“

He was letting go, being defeated by the pain of his harsh reality - his disbelief that he was anything other than a violent beast. He thought bringing me would make him see that it wasn’t true - that he could command it. But now, with the magnitude of celestial torment against his back, the strength of his curse running through him as thick as his poisoned blood, he couldn’t stop it. It was overbearing the test he so desperately wished to pass. He wanted to stand in front of the moon, and for once, be human.

And I understood it now. It all made sense, it always had – our ties together, our purposes for being so close without uttering a single word, being calming presences for each other. Why we were so drawn to one another. The control, the distraction. He couldn’t master it himself.

Maybe all of this was never his choice to make.

Maybe it was mine.

Under my palm, I could sense the stubble of hair bursting from his pores and nails expanding to ferocious claws.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t - you have to go.” He admitted in surrender. I felt the air thicken behind me as the three friends prepared for a battle once this would inevitably get ugly.

I shook my head and grabbed his in my hands, allowing the risk of his free forming claw to attack at any given moment. But I trusted him. As he said, he wouldn’t hurt me. And I knew it.

I stole his eyes, begging into them to see me. His were squinted in terror, budding with tears. His lips trembled in fear and sincerity.

“I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.”

My throat pulsed with adrenaline filled oxygen and just like that, my lips crashed onto his. It was painful and severe and with purpose. His skin was white hot, but it was fragile all the same, filled with desire and need, and a magnificent vulnerability.

I could feel the twitching against his mouth, the irregular beat of his heart as my arms found their way around his shoulders and to his back to comfort him in an embrace.

Suddenly, his own cupped around me and stole me into his whimpered stature. I gasped, and clenched my eyes shut – for a moment I had thought he had fully transformed and was initiating an attack. But I began to feel warm, gentle hands, with gracious tips and no sharp talons.

He was softening in the hug, returning to his own senses. His skin was cooled and still, his bones stopped vibrating, and the boy I had so deeply considered, so earnestly cared for was back.

“How in the fu-“ James mouthed, slumping his arms to his sides, and dropping his wand. Sirius looked over to him, finally able to let out a bewildered breath that had left him since the beginning of this confrontation. Peter stared on with a cheery, relieving laugh.

Remus refused to let me go, and I could feel his content as he wrapped me up in his body. I began to smile through his kiss pressed safely against my own. He pulled away, watching me with admiration.

We both stood, Remus still encasing me in his cuddle, and as we both finally found steadiness from the sting of the concrete floor, he noted the moon still highlighted across my face.

Swallowing in anticipation, I awaited his response.

“I knew it.” He exhaled brokenly, still sore and shaking his head subtly in disbelief as he stared intently at me.

“Not clumsy.” I giggled tenderly, brushing the flustered strands of hair away from his clammy temple, “Just a little reckless.”

He pecked at my forehead before lowering his to mine, “Thank you.”

“Uh, hello?!”

We both stared back at the friends now inspecting the pair of us in befuddlement.

“I told you to trust me.” Remus squinted from the unaccustomed brightness and teased a smirk.

With murmured cursives, they all approached, playfully retrieved Remus, and tackled him under the hue of the full moon, completely free of the fear that had devastated the entirety of their friendship. At last, but not knowing how long or how guaranteed the freedom, they weren’t looking to the night sky to determine their friend’s fate. Or even their own. The conversation could wait, for now they wanted to savour it, and by the looks on all their faces, they certainly were.

After the ruckus, Remus took my hand and aided me back to the room of requirement where the party had died down, and students were dispersing to their dorms.

“I can finally have a night off from your wolfy shenanigans.” Sirius joked as they all gave quick exchanges of farewells; James tapped me on the back gratefully while Sirius winked his thanks. Peter ruffled up Remus’ hair before the three of them headed back to their own rooms with new skips in their steps.

As I swivelled to face him, ready to declare my own goodnight after quite possibly the best, craziest and most mentally exhausting night of my life so far, Remus had made way towards the other end of the small area that we had spent the larger portion of our evening; back at the grand fireplace to retrieve the book that had been awaiting his return. The flames were still high, and the room dimly-lit. He glanced over at me with a look of pure welcome.

The reality was, I didn’t want to go to my dorm. Not one bit. I was finally able to be alone with Remus tonight, for its majority had been plagued with self-loathing and misunderstanding. Now, stood against the heat of the room with a look of unimaginable adoration, I couldn’t resist enjoying his company longer.

I came to, inviting myself into his space and ran one hand up against the chest of almost tattered robes while the other caressed against the top of his fingers clutching his book.

He raised his brow with a cheeky expression.

“No more funny business. How about you just… read to me.”

He stole a light approving kiss and ushered me to sit beside him on the large sofa. Wriggling my way below the arm he now had raised for me to rest under, he skimmed the pages and creased spine to find his place in his story.

He gave me one last check, beaming with appreciation, and comforted himself into my embrace.

“The day had finally arrived. After four years in the waiting, the infamous Robert Grimshaw would return home. Whenever the appropriate occasions called, the locals would greed themselves on talk of him - his woeful story, and his inevitable demise. Whispers were regularly made of his return, often retold, and largely falsified…“

I settled in, feeling my heavy eyes lower into a soft slumber against Remus’ low beating heart.

It was turning to be a quiet night and at long last for Remus…

Peaceful.

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ladyhallen · 3 years

Text

Never Count the Cost

Read on AO3| FFN

It was hopeless.

The Death Eaters numbers weren’t going down. And maybe they were, but not visibly, not enough. Kill one Death Eater, and five more would take their place.

Hermione had given people new, more destructive spells and Ron’s strategies were getting more and more geared towards mass destruction. But it wasn’t good enough.

It shot down morale and everyone was getting desperate.

Harry was getting desperate.

She’d asked Kreacher, which was the start of a series of bad decisions.

Kreacher knew the Black Library better than anyone, and gave Harry a book bound in questionable leather.

Harry took one look at the book, and felt her skin crawl. She decided not to ask the house-elf questions.

“Thank you, Kreacher,” she said.

She read the book when it was supposed to be her turn to be sleeping, and lost her appetite at the horrifying and terrible rituals that the book had. She was pale and unhappy reading the rituals.

Still she found one. One ritual among hundreds that suited her purpose. A ritual to “Summone a Moste Powerful and Chaotic Monstere.”

Harry read it dozens of times, memorized the words and knew the sacrifice.

Desperation and bad decisions led her to the forest with a stone floor. She had left a note with Dean, hopefully, it would stall her friends.

Her hands remained determinedly steady even as she carved the damned sigils on the floor with an enchanted knife. Her hand slipped at one point and bloodied the runes on the floor. She paid it no mind, bandaging her hand and continuing again. She didn’t dare use magic until the ritual was complete and she broke the circle. She endured her throbbing hand and at one point forgot about it, she was so focused on getting it right.

She took a deep breath and started the chant, just as Hermione and Ron sprinted into the clearing.

But Harriet had already started, the words coming out of her mouth frosty and hot in turns, some words tumbling out as heavy as a boulder, others coming out quickly and speedily like an eel.

Ron stopped Hermione, more aware than her about the dangers of interrupting a ritual.

“…in sumptus vitae meae,” she finished with a shout, slamming her hands on the sigils firmly, smearing it with blood. At one point, she had started to bleed from her injured hands.

“Harry, no!” Hermione screamed, held back by Ron’s hands on her shoulders. Of course, her friend could understand the Latin.

Smoke started rising from the blood and sigils, and from that smoke, something with tall with horns emerged.

Harry would be panicking, except she had gone so far from panic that she’d circled around to glassy calm. She’d be hyperventilating later.

If there was a later.

“At the cost of your life, huh,” a lovely, deep voice said inside the circle. “That’s a very interesting payment.”

The smoke cleared, and standing inside the circle was a man. Or as close to a man as a demon could get. His horns were long and curled back, the points curling at the tips and shining a dull red. His eyes shone yellow and his teeth were very sharp. His feet were cloven hooves and covered in shaggy fur, with a tail that flicked as he stood.

And his face. Harry instinctively shied away from looking at his too perfect, too beautiful face.

“Whatever is your trouble, lovely summoner?” the demon asked.

“Me and my people are at war,” she said, as boldly as she could manage. “And I am willing to pay anything for you to help us win.”

The demons beautiful face started to smile, a slash of a terrible smile on an otherwise inhumanly beautiful face.

“Break the circle, dear one. And I will seal the contract with you. You’ve already given me such lovely blood,” he whispered, a hypnotic ring in his voice.

Harry found herself moving despite Hermione and Ron’s shouts in her ears. She broke the circle with the knife still in her hand and the demon stepped out.

As he did, there was a ripple in the world like an invisible curtain, and the goats feet, horns and tail vanished. In his place was a man.

Still beautiful, but no longer inhumanly so. Enough of a change that she could look at his face without feeling that otherworldly aura.

“I am a chaos demon,” he declared. “And we seal these things with a kiss.”

The glassy calm broke, and Harry managed to squeak out, “What?” before the demons lips were on hers and she was consumed by the best kiss she’d ever had, all heat and passion.

After a minute, he pulled away and smiled at her dazed face.

“Stay here, my bride,” he said.

Harry crumpled to the forest floor and her best friends rushed to her, holding her hands and touching her shoulders. Hermione looked seconds away from crying. Ron looked like he wanted to wrap her up in bubble wrap.

“He just called me bride,” Harry managed weakly. “What just happened?”

Ron gave a tired huff into her neck, hugging her almost desperately.

Hermione gave an exhausted sigh.

“Harry,” she began slowly. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but I think a chaos demon just propositioned you.”

When Harry whined pathetically, Ron started to give little huffs of hysterical laughter.

The three of them staggered into Hogwarts, holding onto each other for support as well as comfort.

For Harry, she needed the help. The ritual took almost all of her magic. If she were a weaker witch, she would be dead.

“Ms. Potter,” Professor McGonagall said grimly. “Something has changed the battlefield.”

They looked into Hermione’s Seeing Mirrors, and Harry tried not to cringe at the sight of the stylishly dressed demon just. Walking and causing immense destruction with just a gesture.

It was one thing to know you’d summoned a monster, and another thing to see said monster in action.

“Oops,” she managed. “I guess he was more effective than I thought.”

That caught everyone’s attention.

“You did this? At what cost, Harry?” Neville asked.

Harry gave a wan smile, and he inhaled in understanding. Before he could open his mouth, the chaos demon came strolling back, hands in its pockets and a very cheery smile on its mouth.

“My bride,” he said. “I have killed all the leaders and destroyed their souls and happiness. I will, of course, wait for a week to see if they reform. After that, we will marry.”

“Ex-cuse me what?” Seamus said loudly. The noise of a couple hundred students causing chaos was defeaning.

The demon picked her up like she weighed like nothing and carried her off.

Harry thought the demon would eat her soul. Or even just eat her, she hadn’t thought demons were picky about corporeality.

Nowhere does cuddling factor into it. Or hand feeding her grapes while making encouraging noises. Somehow, her fear just…went away when he was holding fruit to her mouth.

“You are too skinny,” he said, looking at her critically. “You must eat more.”

Uhm, no? They were at war…had been at war. Rationing was a thing. Still a thing while they solve the food issue because the first thing the Death Eaters had targeted were the Hogwarts Farms.

“If I eat more,” she explained to the demon currently holding her in his lap. “Then the children will eat less.”

He pouted. “And these….children…are important to you?” At her nod, he added, “then I will get you more food.”

He vanished for an hour, and returned with an entire freaking passel of pigs. Harry felt her mouth drop open.

“You will eat more?” he asked, like he hadn’t just solved their food problems for the next few weeks. If the keep some female alive and one or two boars, they can even keep some pigs for livestock and feed the entire school for years.

“Sure,” she said weakly. “I’ll eat.”

He looked so immeasurably smug that she wanted to hit him.

Outside the repaired grassy knoll beside the Great Lake, Harry enjoyed the rare sunshine and the lovely view of the lake.

Well. She tried to.

“Harry,” Hermione whispered. “Can I see the ritual you used?”

Harry had no qualms about that. Just. There was a chaos demon sleeping on her legs and she couldn’t move, or make much noise.

“Ask Kreacher,” she whispered back. “I don’t think I’m moving anytime soon.”

The chaos demon, who still hadn’t given his name – that was bothering her, hugged her thighs tighter, his face on her stomach. Harry oofed, leaning back to be more comfortable.

“Get me a book?” she asked her friend. “I’m stuck.”

Hermione looked bemused and handed over The Hobbit.

Harry, who actually hadn’t read the book yet, found herself combing her fingers through the demon’s hair as she read. Eventually, the heat of the sun and the cool wind combined with the firm weight on her stomach made her fall asleep, the book falling on her face.

Unseen to her, the demon’s tail flicked with pleasure.

A week filled with trials and burials later, she finally broke.

“What’s your name?” she asked. Hermione, opposite her in the sofa, crossed her arms frantically. Well, too bad for her, but Harry was tired of these unsaid things.

“It’s Reborn,” he rumbled. “And you are Harriet.”

Something about the way he said her name made her shiver.

“Yeah,” she said. “Why didn’t you eat my soul?”

He slow blinked at her. “That was not what you offered. You offered me your life. Not your death, or your soul, or even your blood and bone. Just your life. Obviously, in order for me to partake of your life, you have to be alive.”

“You are…feeding off me?” she asked.

“No,” he huffed. “I am experiencing it with you.”

Ron choked. “Isn’t that just marriage?” he coughed. His face was red. Harry’s own face was steadily going red.

The de – Reborn nodded. “I know! It surprised everyone too. It was so forward.”

Harry covered her beet red face and groaned.

Reborn had to leave on some business. According to him, paperwork originated in hell and it was needlessly complicated. If he delayed further to log his contract with her, he’d have to fill out an extra fifty forms.

He kissed her very thorougly, rendering her stupid for a minute, before leaving.

Hermione then pounced, explaining what went wrong. Thank Merlin for Hermione, the lack of explanation reason was driving her crazy.

“You read it wrong,” she said. “And a good thing you did. Though how on earth you read ‘animae’ as ‘vitae’, I wonder. It saved your life.”

Harry blinked at the horrific ritual book and sighed. “I was reading it sleep deprived and at one point, I think I was starting to hallucinate?”

“You and your luck, Harry,” Hermione said. “And did I scold you yet for summoning a chaos demon?”

Harry felt her everything tense up. “…No,” she cringed.

She prepared for a lecture mostly done in yelling. She was braced for it.

Except Hermione hugged her tightly instead. “Thank you,” her dearest friend whispered.

Harry felt unintentionally teary. “For you and Ron? I would do it again,” she said into the bushy mane.

They both took a moment to compose themselves.

“So,” Hermione said in that tone that by long association, made Harry feel dread. Hermione only ever used that voice when she was being a little shit. “The chaos demon didn’t proposition you. You propositioned him first.”

“Oh my god,” Harry groaned. “You’re never gonna let this go, are you?”

She gave Harry such a look of mischief. “Never. I thought you were going to die, Harriet Potter. I’m going to say this to your wedding, and to all your birthdays.”

Thank Merlin that she was still alive to have birthdays.

She complained to Hermione just for the spirit of it, but was just as glad.

#fanfiction #hp #harry potter #reborn #khr #hpxkhr #genderbend #crossover #female harry potter #hermione granger #ronald weasley #hpxreborn #demon reborn #demonic summonings

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sestra-inestro · 4 years

Text

Brat

Summary: Enemies to lovers fuck-buddies?

Pairings: fem!short!reader x Bucky Barnes

Warnings: 18+ smut, manhandling, a fuck load of swearing, violence, also kind long.

A/N: Just before y’all read anything, take note: JUNE IS NOT AN OC! Do not comment and message me telling me what not to tag on my stories. Read the description on my Main Masterlist to save yourself some unwanted opinions. Unless it is specified, like this fic is for example, June is not female, white, black, curly-haired, bald, short or tall and is up to interpretation. See it as if you were playing June in the movies/TV shows, you are June. Don’t like it? Don’t read it. There's plenty of Y/N fics. If you have something you want specifically mentioned then you request it, otherwise, you keep your thoughts on how I should tag my stories to yourself. Rant over.

To say you hated each other perfectly summed up your relationship with James Buchanan Fucking Barnes. Ever since he joined the Avengers he has had it out for you. But lately? All communication between you two was a screaming match and dirty looks.

“You’re such a fucking asshole!” You yelled at him. Your scowl was starting to hurt your face but every time you looked at him you couldn’t help but snarl.

“Says you. You just had to fucking be in the wrong position. I saved your fucking life.” He pointed at you.

“I didn’t need you to save my life.” You threw your arms up. “I had a plan!”

“A shit plan that you didn’t even alert us about!”

“I told you I fucking had it and to stay put!”

Steve, Sam, Clint, and Natasha watched from the kitchen as you two screamed back and forth. Wanda walked in and sighed at the commotion.

“Are they still arguing?” She sighed as she sat down.

“Yeah.” Steve took a sip from his beer and continued to watch them.

“What about this time?” Wanda asked.

“Tony asked if they could hang a picture up on the wall above the TV. Bucky held the ladder while June climbed it.” Steve explained. A simple task that they can’t even get through without arguing.

“It was like death-wobble city. They were yelling at each other and then the ladder fell. I think he accidentally hurt her when he caught her.” Clint said as he, also, took a sip of his beer.

“Fuck you, Barnes! You did nothing but fucking injure me!” You screamed at him.

“Yep.” Sam sighed.

“You think they’ll ever get along?” Wanda asked them.

“Yeah. They just need to fuck.” Natasha said, carelessly.

Everyone turned away from your bickering with Bucky and looked at Nat. She looked around at the shocked faces.

“What?”

“What did you just say?” Steve questioned her.

“I said they just need to fuck.” Nat shrugged.

“Really?” Wanda looks back towards you both, still bickering.

“Yep.” Nat leaned forward to explain her theory. “All that pent up anger is directed at each other. Clearly, fighting and arguing is not helping thy situation, only making it worse. If they get physical and hurt each other, that could just make them hate each other more.” She gestured to you both. “If they tire each other out by fucking, they let out all that pent up anger, and are taking out on each other.” Nat leaned back in her seat and raised her beer. “They just need to fuck.”

Clint hooted and clinked his beer bottle with hers.

Steve rolled his eyes while Sam and Wanda considered it to be a good idea and nodded.

“Cap, set that up.” Clint spoke.

Steve’s head snapped towards him. “Why me?”

“Because you set up the missions.” Clint explained. “Give them one that’s bound to make them fuck.”

Steve groaned. “Can you please stop saying that?”

“It’s a way of life, Steve.” Nat shrugged. “It’ll get them both off their rage kicks and out of their dry spells. There will be a lot less of this,” she pointed to where you both were now walking away from each other but still throwing up middle fingers at each other. “And more of this.” She made a sex gesture with her hands.

“Oh, god.” Steve groaned again and ran his hands over his face.

He definitely would love to see you both shut up and be nice to one another just once.

“Fine. But if this doesn’t work, I’m sending you all on a three-month mission with them both.”

“Who are you talking about?” You asked, entering the kitchen with a sour face.

“No one.” They all said at the same time, avoiding eye contact and drinking their beers.

You woke up completely unbothered today. You were going on a mission for a few weeks, which means you’d be away from Bucky for a while. Peace and quiet for a while. You had your duffel bag thrown over your shoulder as you marched onto the quinjet. You threw your bag in the luggage area before taking a seat at the pilots’ seat, strapping in and waiting for your teammate. You still didn’t know who you paired with but you didn’t care.

Setting up the flight controls and logging in the location, you pulled on the headset just as someone stomped onto the jet

You turned your head and annoyance ran through your body. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You groaned and leaned back in the seat.

“Oh fuck off.” Bucky grumbled upon seeing you.

He threw his bag to the luggage area and trudged over to the co-pilot’s seat and you punched the numbers on the control panel, calling Steve.

“Hey, you haven’t left yet?” Steve answered.

“No, Steve. What the fuck?” You said exasperated through the speaker.

“Yeah, what the fuck? You paired me with her? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Bucky butted in.

“First of all, stop swearing at me.” You just knew Steve was holding up a finger. “Second of all, you two need to get over whatever childishness is going on and just fucking put up with it.” You and Bucky both leaned back from the speaker in shock at his words.

“Get the mission done, and don’t come back until you two can act like mature adults.” Steve hissed and hung up.

You and Bucky sat in silence and shock for a second.

He was right, you and Bucky had been fighting a lot worse than usual lately. You couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as each other and now you had to go on an undercover mission together.

This was going to be shit.

You sighed before powering up the jet and closing the hanger doors.

“Fine.” You mumble to yourself.

Bucky pulls on his headset and you two ignore each other the entire ride.

Once you landed, you both grabbed your bags and headed to the hotel that had been set up by Nat.

“Two rooms under Rushman.” You said to the clerk.

He checks the computer and frowns. “Sorry, there’s only one room booked.”

You frowned at him. “No there should be two.”

“I’m sorry but there’s only one registered under Rushman.”

You groaned.

“Well is there any other rooms available?” You felt like you were going to die.

“Sorry. All our other rooms are occupied.” The clerk offered you the keys to the room.

“For fuck sake.” Bucky grumbled before grabbing his bag from the ground and you snatched the key card from the clerk’s hand.

He flinched at your harsh movement and frowned at you.

Despite your frustration towards him, he wishes you a good night as you follow Bucky to the room.

You walked up to the room and unlocked it quickly, the sooner you can get in the sooner it’s over.

Opening the door, you sigh. “At least there are two beds.”

“Yeah, god forbid I have to share a bed with you.” Bucky pushes passed to enter the room and you throw the bird to his back.

He went straight to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

You moved to the bed furthest away from the front door and started unpacking your stuff. You brought minimal products, keeping your luggage to the undercover clothing you need, weapons, your uniform, and pajamas.

You quickly got into your pajamas and slipped into the bed, turning away from the bathroom.

A few moments after, Bucky opened the bathroom door, dressed in his sleep clothing.

“Aren’t you going to shower?” He questioned as soon as he saw you already in bed.

“No.” You mumbled.

Bucky huffs in return and shuts off the lights you hear his rustling bed covers before silence, letting you finally drift off the sleep.

The next day you woke up before Bucky and decided to make the most noise you could. You knew he would be able to hear you when you got up, so to annoy him further you slammed doors, threw your bag and turned up your phone so the notifications echoed through the room.

You were showered and typing away on the Stark Laptop obnoxiously when Bucky finally growled and threw back his blankets.

“Are you just trying to piss me the fuck off?” Bucky glared at you with disheveled hair and the grumpiest face you’ve ever seen.

“If I am it looks like it’s working.” You said, unbothered by his mood and still looking at the laptop.

“Fucking bitch.” He mumbled under his breath before marching to the bathroom and slamming the door.

The rest of the day consisted of you both ignoring each other until it was time to go to work.

You stepped out of the bathroom in a flowing cream-white dress that ruched down the sides and led the slit down the side of your leg with little sparkles through all the fabric, your figure curved as it was all held together with a bodysuit underneath. Your heels complimented your dress and legs so much that Bucky couldn’t help but stare at you as you collected your faked invitation from your bed.

You turn to look at him dressed in his dress shirt, dress pants, and a tux jacket. You couldn’t help but think he was actually very hot in his clothing, and you also noticed him staring at your body.

You smirked. “See something you like, Barnes.”

Bucky looks up to your eyes quickly as he knows he’s caught and screws up his face. “Just surprised you can actually look like a lady.”

“Yeah?” You raised your eyebrows. “Well, fuck being a lady. You’re no gentleman either.” You shouldered him as you walked passed him.

He begrudgingly followed you out the door to the hire flashy car to take you to the party.

You both sat in a high tension silence until you arrived at the party.

It was a big mansion filled with fancy people. You don’t know why Tony couldn’t be sent for this. It’s basically his scene. The driver opened both of your doors and Bucky walked around to your side and offered his arm.

The charade is on and you both walk up the entry stairs and presented your faked invitations. The clerk nodded and opened the door for you both.

With your hand woven around Bucky’s arm, you both enter to see many people mingling and holding little champagne glasses of bubbly.

“I see our guy.” You say as you swipe a glass from a passing tray. A guy amongst the crowd people that stood out with his white hair was smiling and drinking while conversing.

“Okay,” Bucky said as you broke apart. The earpiece keeping you connected. “I’ll get behind him to stay near.”

“Approaching target.” You confirmed.

You put on your best salutary saunter over to him, holding your glass in your hand and doing your best to capture his eyes.

And it worked.

He spotted you on your way over to him and turned his attention to you.

“Why, hello there beautiful.” He looked down to you as you reached him, offering you a wide grin. His white hair almost blinded you as it shone it the lights.

“Hello, handsome.” You said in a low voice. You heard Bucky grunt at your words but you ignore him.

“I don’t recall ever meeting you. I know I would definitely remember you.” His eyes traveled down your body.

“Well,” You jutted out your hip and rested on it. “I guess that gives you the opportunity to get to know me all over again.” You ran your finger over his shoulder and gave him your best seductive smile.

You spent the next two hours with him, joined at his arm. Bucky followed close behind and monitored the whole situation while doing his best to blend in.

You managers to get the target pretty drunk, to the point where he kept running his hand down your back to your backside.

He leans down and whispers in your ear: “Why don’t we take this somewhere more private, so I can get to know you much better.”

Inside you were cringing hard as his white hair tickled your skin.

You turned to look at him and gave him a smile. “Sure.” You agreed.

He immediately pulled you across the room and into a dark hallway that was isolated. You both could still hear the music from the party and people talking but he didn’t care as he slammed you against the wall and buried his head in your neck. You felt him growl against your skin as he tried to take off your dress but you distracted his hands by linking your hands together and pulled him closer.

You reached down to your thigh holster and pulled out the sedative to bring to his neck. You were about to puncture his skin when someone yelled.

“Hey! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” You both pulled apart and you quickly hid the sedative in between your breasts.

“What?” You pushed the target away from you and you frowned at Bucky.

“What the hell are you doing with him right now?” Bucky stormed up to both of you, absolutely fuming.

“Is this you’re boyfriend?” The target asked. He raised his arms in defense as Bucky glared at him.

“Beat it old man.” He snarled and the target didn’t argue and ran.

“Um, what the fuck are you doing?” You asked him, your head was full of confusion.

“You weren’t listening to anything I was saying.” Bucky pointed down to you.

“Are you serious that dictating that you think I’m gonna listen to every word you say when I have to target literally on me? I couldn’t even hear you.” You snapped back.

Bucky grumbled something under his breath and grabbed you by the arm, dragging you out of the mansion and to the car. When you got back to the hotel, he dragged you all the way back up to the room.

Bucky opens the door and throws his grip on your arm into the room before him. You stumble in your heels into the room, catching your balance and turning around to glare at him.

“What the fuck, James?” You growl.

“You wanna act like a brat. I’ll fucking treat you like a brat.” He slammed the door shut and turned to you with a dark look in his eyes. “When are you going to stop?”

“You’re the reason I fucking started to begin with! You ruined the mission!” You said with irritation. “And there’s no way I’m acting like a brat.”

“Maybe I should fuck the brat out of you.” Bucky stepped forward, loosening his tie.

You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “I’d like to see you try.”

A dark smirk dawned his face as he stepped closer to you, your body just centimeters away from his, but your stubbornness didn’t falter.

“You’ve got a big mouth for such a small girl.” He said looking down at you.

You screwed your face up and went to swear at him but he cut you off before he could. His lips smashed into yours with an unloving and rough pace. His hands grasp a firm grip on your forearms, pulling you against him and his lips mold to yours.

You’re shocked as your body stiffens at his actions, but you wake up and you start to resist his antics. You squirm yourself out of his grip and push him away from you.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Your voice is evident with shock. Your eyes are wide as he goes to approach you again.

“You said you’d like to see me try and fuck the brat out of you.” He says with a shrug. “Maybe you shouldn’t open your mouth if you can’t handle it.”

You raise your brows. “Oh, you think I can’t handle you?”

“That’s what you’re telling me right now.” He says with a smirk.

“Fuck you.” You pull him back to you by the back of his neck, his lips smashing against yours once again.

You start to pash him roughly as he did before, you can feel his teeth against you and his hand’s wind around your waist. His hands are firm against your body and pulling you flush against him.

He pulls back for a second. “I don’t think you could fuck me good enough.” He says with a first smirk.

He was trying to aggravate you. And it was working.

“You wanna bet?”

“Don’t bet,” he pushed you against the wall, slamming your back into it. “Prove it.”

You pushed him back and turned around, pushing his shoulders into the wall this time.

“Afraid I’ll fuck you better than you could fuck me?” You smirked, looking up at him and running your hand down his hip and almost touching his length before he growled and grasped arms again.

This time he slammed you into the wall with your chest against it and your arms behind you back and his mouth against your ear.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk out of here tomorrow.” His voice was husky and low in your ear, promising to dick you down all night.

He pushed his pelvis against your ass and you felt his hard length. He was big, really big.

You moan at the thought of him inside you.

“You feel what you did to me?” He whispered on your ear, grinding his hips into your backside. “You in this fucking dress all night, thinking it’s funny to play around all night when you should be working. I should fucking punish you.”

“God, yes.” You moan out and push back against the roll of his hips.

“I’m going to nail you into the mattress.” He groans and your ass moves against his clothes cock.

You sigh in frustration, the dry grinding no more arousing you than annoying you now. “Just shut up and fuck me.”

At your words, Bucky lets out an animalistic growl. His hand wraps around you and grabs the front of your throat, twirls you around to stand in front of him away from the wall and launches you onto the bed with force.

You squeal and bounce as you hit the bed. You watch as Bucky stalks towards, ripping his tie and jacket off his bulked body and tossing them to the floor.

The action sends waves of arousal to your core and the look in his eyes is primal.

He kneels on the bed and grabs your ankles.

He runs his hands up the length of your legs resting at your hips. Hooking his fingers under the band of your thong, he pulls it over your hips and down your legs, groaning at the sight of your glistening pussy.

He pulls them around your heels and flings them across the room before he grasps your ankles again and pulls you to lie flat on your back.

“Your so wet already.” His husky voice rumbles as he pulls your knees to bend over his shoulders.

You gasp out as his mouth latches onto your core, lapping at your soaking folds fast.

You lean up on your elbows and pull the slit of your dress aside to see his mouth buried in your cunt, his blue piercing eyes looking into yours as he eats what you give.

“Fuck yes,” you throw your head back as his tongue circles around your clit. You reach down and push him closer by the back of his head and grind your hips against his mouth. “Go faster.”

He growls but meets your demands as his tongue swirls around your clit at record speed, making you gasp and your hips stutter.

“Oh my god, Buck.” You breathe out. You can feel his flesh hand circling your entrance, excitement kicking in and you pull him closer with your legs.

Your movements annoyed him. He detached his mouth from your cunt and sat up.

“How are you annoying even when I’m trying to fuck you?” Buck glared at you, his mouth wet with your arousal.

“Trying to fuck me?” You scoffed. “You’re going too slow, when are you actually going to get to fucking me?”

Bucky growls at your words and grabs the top of the slit of your dress and rips upwards.

You gasp and glare at him. “Do you know how much that fucking dress costs?”

“I don’t give a fuck.” He snarls and rips it off your body.

“You fucking-“

“Shut up.” He crushed your lips against hi as his hands rush to pull off all of your clothing.

You feel his hands everywhere. You start to feel dizzy as you run your hands over his broad back. You need to feel his skin against yours and you claw at his shirt, trying to pull it off of him.

Bucky moves his lips from yours to your jaw and to travel down your body to stop at your chest. His lips wrap around your nipple as he balances his weight just above you and unbuttons his shirt, pulling it off his shoulders.

You moan as his hot skin lays against yours. Bucky’s hand reaches up to cup your breasts in his hands as he sucks on your nipples.

“Gosh,” You sigh, running your fingers through his hair.

He lets go of your breasts and kisses back up your throat and captures your lips again.

Bucky’s hips start to grind into your bare core, the fabric of his dress pants is rough against your folds. You groan out in pain and pleasure. His length is rock hard and very prominent against you.

Your hand travels down his body to his fly and belt. Your fingers fumble to undo his pants, Bucky disconnects your lips to rest his forehead against yours and look down at your hands undoing his pants.

You get the belt off and unzip his pants, using your feet to push them down with his briefs to his ankles.

He reaches down to grasp his length, pumping it a few times before thrusting straight into your wet core.

You moan in shock as his cock enters you. He immediately feels you contracting around him and it makes him groan.

You walls flutter as he sets a strong pace, pounding you into the mattress like he promised you.

“Fuuuuuck, Bucky.” You whine shakily as your body bounces up and down on the bed.

“You take me so well. Fucking hell.” He growls as he feels you clench with a groan of your own.

You wrap your legs around his waist, your thighs clenching at his hips. “Harder.”

Bucky makes good on your demands and pulls back to slam into you harder.

Your skin slapping against his echoes through the room and you can’t help but grunt each time he thrusts into you.

“Oh my god.” You pant as his length repeatedly jams at your g-spot. “I’m gonna fucking come.”

“Come on my cock.” Bucky grunts. “Come on, June.”

At his words, your hips begin to stutter as you feel yourself let go to his cock. You can’t help the loud and long moan that leaves your mouth as you grip his shoulders, trying to calm your body of your tremors. Your orgasm rips through you and Bucky can feel you clench down on his like a vice. Your warm and wet walls quivering but holding their grip on you, triggering his orgasm and he spills into you.

You sigh out at the feel of his cum releasing inside of you. He stills his hips against you and throws back his head, releasing a roar as his orgasm rips through his body, before collapsing on top of you.

The weight of him took the breath out of you so you push him off to roll onto the small space next to you. Both of you panting and a thin layer of sweat glistened over both of your bodies.

“I don’t think you fucked the brat out of me,” You said between breaths. “But I haven’t had a good dick down in a while.”

Bucky turned his head to look at you. “You think I’m done with you.”

You looked at him and frowned.

Bucky smirked and grabbed you roughly and pulled you on top of him, his length hard between your legs once again.

“You’re gonna ride me until I tell you to stop.” His words rumbled through his chest before pulling you into another hard kiss.

Your body was completely spent as you lay completely naked on the bed. Bucky leaned on his elbow across the bottom of the bed at your feet.

You both had gone three more times. The sheets had been ripped off the corners and the covers had been pushed to the floor.

You stretched out your legs, pointing your toes. The tip of your toes grazed Bucky’s arm. You looked down and traces along his soft skin with your toes. Bucky grasps your foot as it tickles him and brings the tops of your toes to his mouth, press a soft kiss amongst them.

A small smile graced your lips as you felt him caress your ankle, his hand traveling up your leg. You felt eh bed shift and he got onto all fours and climbed up the length of your body again to rest next to you and look at you.

“Hi.” He says with a smile.

“Hi.” You return his smile.

“You think I fucked the brat out of you now?” He asks and wiggles his eyebrows.

You sigh dramatically as you pretend to think. You felt no more irritation towards him. His face no longer annoyed you because it could, you honestly just felt like you were much more content. “Yeah, yeah I think you did.” You gave him a soft small smile.

“Good.” He leans down and kisses your forehead before gathering you up to lay on his chest and wrapped in his arms.

“You’re so small.” He mumbled against your hair.

“You’re so warm.” You mumbled back and you nuzzled into his chest, closing your eyes readying for a night of much better sleep than last night.

Natasha was right, you two just needed to fuck. And fuck hard you did.

#bucky barnes x reader #because it is!#bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader x angst #bucky barnes x reader fluff #avengers x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader smut #bucky barnes x fem!reader angst #enemies to lovers #fuck buddies #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes smut oneshot

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elizabeethan · 3 years

Text

Find Strength in Pain, Find Strength in Me 2/3

After defeating the wraith, Emma Swan is dragged through the portal they sent it through and suddenly finds herself in the land in which she should have grown up. Lost, overwhelmed, and desperate to get home to her son, she accepts help from the gruesome pirate Captain Hook— and his accomplice.

A Season 2 AU in which Emma ends up the the Enchanted Forest alone, and she and Hook (try to) work together to get to the Land Without Magic.

Hi! here is part 2! thank you to @the-darkdragonfly for being an incredible beta and to @donteattheappleshook for forcing me to write being instrumental in the creation of this fic.

Rated T (for now) (I have no idea if that’ll change) (bit fat maybe)

~4800 words

Read on Ao3

Read my other stuff

Tagging: @courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay

Despite her circumstances, Emma does not feel like a prisoner of fearsome pirate Captain Hook. In fact, she’s been made to feel quite comfortable in his quarters, and after he was sure that their interests aligned and that they were useful to one another, he told her she could have free reign of the ship to do as she pleased until they made landfall.

“No one on this vessel will harm you, love,” he assured her when she became bored of exploring his quarters, and she believed him immediately.

Maybe she was bothering him as he peered over his logs and maps and she tinkered with the exotic items he’s collected— perhaps that’s why he encouraged her to explore. Either way, she didn’t have to be told twice, and found out that the men aboard were surprisingly pleasant as well. Mr. Smee was a shy and timid man, but friendly and caring all the same. The rest of the crew wore snarls when they looked at her, but broke down easily the moment she began casual conversation with them.

Maybe it’s because they know how instrumental she is in their Captain getting his revenge.

As she leans against the rail of the upper deck after a day of learning about ships and pirating, she watches as the sun sets behind them, painting the sky an intoxicating shade of pink that fades into purple and black. Hook is at the wheel, navigating through the ocean that almost claimed her, and despite her situation, she feels safe. If she had to be dragged from the sea and rescued by pirates, she supposes she lucked out with the Jolly Roger.

“Quite a sight, isn’t it, love?” he asks her, and she turns to face him so she can respond.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Never been aboard a ship before, I take it?” he calls from the wheel, giving her a smirk at the look of wonderment on her face.

“Nope, never had much of a need to,” she responds as casually as she can.

“Or an opportunity?”

She laughs, a bit awkwardly, and says, “I guess not. It’s not something I've really thought about.”

“I see,” he concedes when she gets closer to him, leaning against the rail just across from the wheel he commands. “So, tell me about your boy.”

She sighs wistfully and looks up to the sky, wondering what he could be up to, what he’s thinking, if he’s worried about her. “His name is Henry. He’s almost eleven, but he acts like he’s 32. Super smart, very passionate about the things and people he cares about.”

“Sounds like you,” he chuckles.

“How would you know?” she asks with incredulity.

“You're an open book. And you did hold a knife to my throat yesterday. I can only attribute that to your passion and assume that you want to get home quite badly.”

“Of course I do,” she rolls her eyes, stepping closer to him until she’s leaning against the helm and glaring at him. “I’m his mother,” she insists.

He nods and says, “of course. But I sense that there’s more to the story.”

Caught off guard, she answers, “well, just… he’s been through a lot. Especially in the past year.”

“I see. And you don’t wish to contribute to his turmoil.” She shrugs, looking away from his gaze. “You don’t wish to contribute... further?”

Her breathing falters at his accuracy and she says, “let’s just say I wasn’t always there for him in the way I should’ve been. He deserves better and I need to get home to make sure I can give him that.”

He nods thoughtfully, pursing his lips and looking ahead towards the horizon again, as if anything before them has changed in the last day and a half. “I understand, love.” It’s as if he shakes himself out of a trance when he says, “try your hand at the wheel?”

She raises her brows and gives him a disbelieving look. “After I just told you I’ve never even been on a ship?”

“It’s not difficult to learn,” he tells her as he lifts his hand towards her, gently guiding her behind the wheel. “Besides, the Jolly is enchanted. You can’t hurt her.”

She snorts softly, shaking her head as he leads her and places her hand upon a handle, letting his fingers linger on the top of her hand for a moment too long. “How do you manage to get your ship enchanted?” she asks amorously once his fingers leave her skin, taking with them a feeling of gentle warmth.

“You know the right enchantress,” he flirts back, his mouth just a bit too close to her ear. She can almost feel his voice rumbling through his chest as it presses to her back, keeping her warm against the whipping winds of the sea. “There,” he says softly. “You're sailing.”

She laughs lightly, unaware of how exciting she actually found this until he put it to words. Seriously, she’s captaining a pirate ship! Henry is gonna be so excited when she tells him this story. “I guess I am,” she says happily.

“I think she likes you,” he says in a way that she knows isn’t a joke, despite how ridiculous it sounds.

“Why, because she isn’t sinking?”

“Aye, she doesn’t always take kindly to strangers.”

“And you let me do this?!”

He laughs, but doesn’t respond with words, as if he knows he’s been caught. “I had a feeling.”

They’re quiet for a moment, and while he’d dropped her hand and is letting her steer on her own, she notes that he doesn't back up and keeps her back pressed gently to him. “We’re going to get you home to him, love,” he murmurs into her ear, so softly that she can barely hear him over the sound of the wind. “I know-- well, I would wager that you have some experience with abandonment and… Well, I’m not going to let your boy go through that.”

She draws her brows together in thought, considering how perceptive he is, how well he seems to know her after such a short time. She turns around to face him, seeing just how close he truly is to her, and cocks her head. He reaches behind her to take control of the wheel, bringing himself even closer. “How do you know?” she asks.

His smile is small, sad. “I’m no stranger to a lost soul.”

“Are you accusing me of being a lost soul?” she asks in a tone as soft as his own.

“Perhaps I'm simply trying to tell you that I understand.”

With a hum, she says, “what are you saying, Captain? Are we kindred spirits?”

He cracks a brilliant smile, his eyes crinkling and glimmering in the moonlight, shining like the stars above them. “Aye, I suppose we are.”

She’s so calm with him. It feels wrong to let herself relax into his hold, to let herself enjoy the feeling of his chest vibrating against hers as he speaks. She should be focusing on getting home, on getting to Henry and protecting him from Regina. Not fantasizing about a pirate she thought was fictional.

But then he leans closer to her, his hook on the wheel and his hand reaching up to cup her cheek, and she doesn't even try to stop herself from pressing onto her toes and capturing his lips in a slow yet chaste kiss. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss her back, and she feels warmth flitting through her and settling in the deepest depths of her center until he’s tangling his fingers in her hair and getting his rings caught in the strands.

She breathes out a soft giggle at the sharp tug, pulling from him and attempting to detangle herself from him. “Apologies, my darling,” he practically purrs against her mouth.

“It’s okay,” she whispers, planting her forehead against his and trying to catch her breath. They had only kissed for a second, but their close proximity and the raw, ardent nature of his observations weigh heavily between them and she feels something.

He kisses her lips again, one, twice, three times, before saying, “time for dinner.”

She groans and rolls her eyes. “Not more of that tack shit is it?”

He laughs heartily and says, “tonight you’ll get some more jerked meat, darling. Perhaps some rum to chase it down.”

“I’d love some rum.”

With a smirk, he steps back slightly and reaches his hand into his coat, taking out a flask and passing it to her, but not before removing the cork with his teeth and popping it onto the ground. She takes it happily from him, smirking back and stuffing the feeling of warmth that traces through her as deeply as she can.

~~~~

The ship is enchanted in several ways, she realizes. Hook told her that it’s impossible to damage her, but she’s discovered other quirks as well. For one, it’s never cold. Not only is his cabin toasty warm, as if it’s well insulated, but the rest of the ship is comfortable as well. For another, although it rained last night and the deck should have been slick, it was completely dry. And now, music is playing, and she can’t for the life of her find the source.

The wind is whipping but the lanterns stay lit, maybe another side effect of the enchantment, and the crew lounges happily on the deck, enjoying their rum and their opportunity to relax. Hook leans against the ladder that leads to the helm, and she can’t help but stare through her lashes at his confident posture as he laughs at the crewmen dancing wildly.

They shout boisterously as a slower, more romantic song replaces the shanties, laughing and hollering at their Captain until he stands and holds up his hands in defeat, shaking his head and smiling. She isn’t sure what they’re all talking about, but she’s excited to see him do what he seems so adamant to avoid.

That is, until he comes up to her and holds out his hand, offering her a small, shy smile in replacement of the smirk she was expecting. “Dance with me, Swan?”

“Dance with you?” she asks in outrage. “I can’t dance!”

“Aye, another thing you haven’t had the opportunity to learn, I’m sure, but I happen to be a brilliant teacher.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she accuses, although she can’t deny the grin splitting her face that matches his. “Are you saying you know how to dance to this?”

He takes her hand with a salacious smirk and practically drags her to the middle of the deck, placing his own on her hip. “It’s called a waltz,” he tells her, “and there’s only one rule.” She feels a heat radiating off of herself that’s different from anything she’s felt before, as if a light is glowing from her skin and hair as he spins her. “Pick a partner who knows what they’re doing.”

She’s breathless, and every fear and worry she's had since she went through that damn portal has evaporated out of her pores and into the salty sea air. He holds her closer, likely forgoing the proper form they were practicing, and she melts into him.

“You’re glowing, darling,” he murmurs, his lips grazing against her ear lobe in a way that makes her shiver. She looks down at her hands and sees the soft golden glow he must be referring to and gasps, noting it fading. “Relax, love, it’s very fitting. I’m assuming this hasn’t ever happened in the Land Without Magic.”

“No,” she says thoughtfully. “It wouldn’t have worked anyway until after—” She cuts herself off, careful not to reveal the truth; that Gold brought magic back to Storybrooke after the curse broke. Then she stops to think… is this magic?

“After what?” he interrupts her thoughts.

She clears her throat. “Uh, after I broke the curse.”

“The one the Queen cast? You broke it?” he asks, suddenly serious rather than warm and flirtatious. She wonders how he would’ve known about that, but figures he must’ve been a child when it was originally cast; maybe he remembers.

“Yeah.” She feels guilty lying to him. Maybe she shouldn’t. Maybe she should just continue to savor the feeling of his hand running along her back as he pulls her closer. As much as she’s been enjoying their time together, she reminds herself that she needs him to get home, and she’ll need to do whatever it takes for their plan to take fruition.

~~~~

The next afternoon, Emma lounges in the Captain’s bed and reads one of the many diaries recounting his adventures. After they danced the night away, they came back to his room and she expressed interest in hearing about his journeys between kisses and soft touches. He stood and retrieved a leather bound book, handing it to her and telling her that she’s always welcome to his stories, and that he’ll happily tell her whatever she wants to know. She read until she fell asleep, with him sleeping soundly on the floor beside her, protectively positioned between her and the door.

She knows she’s behaving ridiculously. She can’t possibly let whatever is going on between them continue once they make landfall. But it isn’t like she can accomplish anything while they’re out at sea, so she lets herself indulge in his soft lips and deep eyes and profound declarations in the meantime, making a promise to herself to let him go once they land.

She hears a commotion above deck and starts a bit, putting the book down on the bed and standing. Can pirates be attacked by other pirates? Certainly that’s a thing. She straightens the black linen shirt as she stands, the one Hook let her borrow while her clothes are being washed, tucking it more neatly into her jeans, and makes her way towards the door, pressing her ear to the wood and listening closely for trouble. She hears rustling and shouting, and her heart begins to race. It pounds harder in her chest when she hears a distinct set of footsteps making its way towards the door she’s pressed to.

When she hears the footsteps grow too close for comfort, she turns and presses her back to the door in hopes of blocking out an intruder. They try to push it open and grunt in surprise when it only moves a bit, and she plants her feet more firmly into the floor. Her panic subsides, though, when she hears a cocky chuckle. “Swan?” he calls through the door. “Are you playing hard to get?”

She breathes a sigh of relief when she hears his voice, moving from the door and carefully opening it just a crack to peek her head out. “What’s going on?”

He smirks, of course, and says, “We’re docking, love. What's the matter?”

“I thought… I dont know, I thought something was wrong.”

He shakes his head and squeezes by her to enter the room, shutting the door behind him and touching her arm gently. “Nothing’s wrong, darling. All is going to plan.” She doesn't miss the way his eyes trail down her body, slowly and obviously taking in the sight of her.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she insists, pulling the shirt closed some more and hugging her body with her arms.

“I’m simply admiring the way my shirt fits you, Swan,” he smirks. “You wear it much better than I do.”

“Whatever,” she rolls her eyes. “What’s the plan?”

He chuckles and moves towards the table, stopping to pick up the book she was reading and putting it away. “The crew is docking us now, and then we’ll go to find the compass and then meet up with our colleague. Shouldn't be long before you're home.”

She nods, taking a calming breath at the anticipation of finally getting home. He’s told her the plan: they need to find a compass from a giant’s lair, but to do that, they first need to climb a beanstalk. She isn't sure what that will entail, and she isn't really excited to find out, but she’ll do what she has to to get back to her son.

Her shirt hasn’t dried yet. Hook packs it in his satchel so that she doesn’t leave it behind, but now she’s stuck wearing his flowy blouse with her jacket over top of it. He keeps checking her out, and she isn't sure how she feels about it. She ignores the blush and the heat that floods through her.

The port they landed at is fairly run down and not very heavily populated, which she thinks is a good thing-- she would stick out like a sore thumb in her jeans and leather jacket, but she sure as hell isn't hiking through a forest in one of those damn dresses.

They trek for hours, Hook filling the time with more stories that leave her with a sense of wanderlust. She grew up an orphan, traveling from foster home to foster home, and she always longed for a place to settle down. She’s never found herself wishing to travel the world, because she never had a home to come back to, but hearing his stories change things for her.

He’s an incredible storyteller. Sometimes it’s clear that he embellishes some events to make them more dramatic, but everything he tells her is the truth despite the fact that it sounds so unbelievable. It seems he’s spent years pillaging and plundering, and while she certainly can't condone all of his actions, it also seems like he’s spent much of his time enjoying the different realms he’s explored. He tells her so many stories that she isn't sure how he could fit all of these adventures into one lifetime.

“Can I ask you something?” she finally asks when she can make sense of his life no longer.

“Perhaps,” he smirks.

She carries on despite his playfulness. “How old are you?”

“Physically? Or literally?”

She snorts, bumping her shoulder against his at his joke, but falters when she realizes he isn't joking. She stares up at him, pausing her steps for a moment, and says, “uh, literally? I guess?”

“Around 250.”

“What?” she chokes.

He hums. “Aye, I’ve recently counted and I believe I’ve been on this plane for about 250 years.”

She’s speechless, blinking at him but unable to make her voice work. Shaking her head, she asks, “how?”

“Well, after my run in with the Dark One, I spent some time in Neverland. You see, the Dark One is immortal, so I needed to stay alive long enough to find a way to get my revenge. Once I found it, I came back for a few years, and then the most recent curse essentially paused time, so I didn't age again. So, I estimate around 250 years.”

With her mouth still agape, she says, “I thought you were, like… 30.”

“Why thank you,” he smirks. “Physically, I’m around 36, I believe, so I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“So when the curse was cast, you were… the same age you are now?”

“Is that not how it worked in the Land Without Magic? I was under the impression that time would stand still.”

She narrows her eyes, wondering how he heard such details about the curse, and managed to avoid it, but chalking it up to his piracy. “No, that’s how it worked.”

“And how old are you, then?”

“28,” she says without thinking, though perhaps she should have kept that a secret if she doesn’t want him to know that she’s the Savior. She can see the gears in his head turning, although he says nothing else and seeks no further clarification.

They spend the remainder of the trip talking about Neverland, which is apparently much different from how Barrie described. He tells her of the Lost Boys and how terrifying they were, even to a fearsome and relentless crew of pirates. While they walk, they encounter some branches in the path and he cuts them down, and she notices a tattoo on his inner forearm that catches her attention.

“Who’s Milah?” she asks, her voice just loud enough to be heard over the sounds of the forest.

He stills but doesnt turn back towards her when he asks, “pardon?”

“Milah, on the tattoo?”

His shoulders fall and he clears his throat. “Someone from long ago.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s gone.” His tone is dismissive. Pained.

She thinks of the first day, once she was awake, when she explored his cabin in secret before she trusted him and found a sketch of a stunning woman with thick, curly hair and soft, kind eyes. “Gold,” she says as the pieces fall into place, and he turns to face her. “Rumplestiltskin. He took more than your hand from you, didn’t he?” she asks softly. “That’s why you want to kill him.”

She hasn’t seen him look this broken in the few days she’s known him. The timeline starts to put itself together in her mind and she realizes he’s spent almost 220 years lying in wait to avenge this woman’s death. “You're quite perceptive,” he finally says.

The guilt is eating away at her again. How can she go on with him, convinced he has a chance to kill the Dark One, when she knows how hurt he is? What kind of a person is she becoming?

One who will do anything for her son, she reminds herself.

They’re silent for the rest of the trek.

~~~~

She nearly slipped off the damn beanstalk. She wasn’t listening to him, his cocky attitude back in full force and irritating the hell out of her, so she grabbed a loose branch and it snapped. She plummeted, thought for certain she was going to die, until it stopped suddenly and he had his hook in the collar of her jacket.

“You should listen to your Captain,” he tells her, and she rolls her eyes, but internally she knows he’s right. He pulls her up close to him, pressing her front against the beanstalk and his body to her back. “Alright?” he asks, his lips brushing her ear.

“I’m fine,” she responds, and she takes a shaky breath.

“Almost to the top, love,” he assures her, breaking away once she feels her shakiness subsiding. “Try that one,” he suggests, gesturing for a different handhold.

When they reach the top, he pulls out his flask and she scoffs at his need for a drink, but then realizes she could use some herself. Only he isn’t using it for a drink, he’s taking her hand in his and saying, “let me help.”

“What are you--” she starts, and then he’s pouring the rum over a cut on her hand and she’s shouting at the sting. “What the hell!”

“A bloody waste, I know. But I'll not have you losing a hand to infection.”

“Hook,” she starts, but he cuts her off.

“Haven't you learned to listen to your Captain, love?”

She gives him an incredulous look, but when he raises his brows in quick succession, she can't help but to grin at him and roll her eyes. She’s about to say something snarky and brush him off, but then he’s wrapping her cut hand in a scarf and biting down on it so he can tighten it one-handed, not breaking eye contact with her. “Fuck,” she breathes at the sight, and then blushes fiercely.

He smirks and chuckles deeply, leaning in close to her and stealing a quick kiss before he places his hook on the small of her back and leads her to the castle's entrance.

“The last of the giants died ages ago, so we should be safe, save for any other intruders. All we have to do is find the compass and we’re homeward bound.”

She finds it difficult to admit to herself how much fun she has as they dig through the treasure room, searching for the compass and joking around with each other as they do. Hook pilfers a few pieces of gold, but she can’t exactly blame him; he is a pirate, after all. He finds a small broach, a golden rose, and presents it to her with flair and grandeur, bowing deeply as he holds it out to her and kissing her hand when she accepts it. “You're ridiculous,” she accuses through a laugh.

They finally find the compass after what feels like hours, but the time passes painlessly. He helps her up onto the platform it sits on, humming amorously when her ass comes into his view, and she kicks his shoulder lightly with a laugh.

It’s as they’re wandering through the castle, slowly making their way back towards the beanstalk, when he says, “I must say, Swan, I’m looking forward to seeing where you spent the last 28 years,” and she feels that guilt bubbling up again. He isn’t excited to get to Storybrooke to kill Gold, he’s looking forward to seeing where she’s from. It makes her think of why he agreed to help her in the first place. It makes her think of his lost love, of Milah, and she feels as if she’s taking away his chance of avenging her.

“Hook,” she says hesitantly before they leave the treasure room. “There's something you need to know.”

“What’s that, love?” he asks gently, as if she can do no wrong, and the guilt is flooding her now.

She swallows thickly and takes a breath before admitting, “I know that you want to come with me to Storybrooke to kill Gold because you think there's no magic there, but… that isn't true.”

He stills, turning to face her fully and drawing his brows close together pensively, angrily. “There’s magic? In the Land Without Magic?”

She nods nervously. “After the curse broke, he brought magic back.”

He scoffs, shaking his head and turning to pace in agitation. “Damn you, Regina,” he says under his breath. “And you knew, all this time?”

Her ears practically perk up, her heart starting to race again. “Did you say Regina?”

“Aye,” he practically spits. “The witch who said there would be no magic. Bloody charlatan.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, horrified to hear him talking about someone he shouldn't even know.

“I mean I was promised a land without magic in which to slay the bloody crocodile, and here you are telling me that isn’t the case. How am I meant to get my revenge now? Cora should've seen this coming. She bloody well knows her better than most.”

“Who the hell is Cora?” she asks firmly, backing away from him. “I thought that was the daughter of the lady you're working with?”

He runs his hand along his face and shakes his head. “I said Cora is the woman we’re working with. She’s looking for her daughter in your Storybrooke. Regina.”

She feels her face going white, her blood running cold and her eyes bugging out of her head. “Cora is… Regina’s mother? You know Regina?”

“Aye, bloody fraud has already betrayed me once,” he huffs, obviously still irritated. “I’m sorry, love, I don't mean to take out my frustrations on you, I just-- what are you doing?”

He notices her take the small dagger from the sheath he gave her earlier, pointing it at him and she holds the compass firmly in her other hand. “Don’t come any closer.”

“Swan? What are you doing?” She reaches behind her to tuck the compass in her back pocket; her sheriff’s pistol may have been damaged beyond repair by the ocean waves, but the cuffs are still fully functional. She takes in her surroundings quickly and then rushes to him, locking his wrist to the cage beside him without thinking her actions through and backing away. “What are you doing?!”

“Hook, I…” she sighs. “I can’t--”

“Emma, look at me,” he insists. “Have I told you a lie?”

“You didn't tell me the truth; you’re working with Regina’s mother!”

“How was I to know that was a problem for you?! I told you who we’re working with.”

“Not really! Regina is dangerous, she wants to take Henry away from me! Do you know how bad it would be if her mother was there to help her?!”

“I will help you, Emma. You won't have to go through this alone; you won't abandon Henry like you were abandoned. Let me go and we can figure this out.”

“If Regina wanted me dead, Cora probably does too.”

“Wanted you dead?” he murmurs in thought. He cocks his head, confused, and ponders her claim. “Who are you?”

She shakes her head. “I can’t take the chance that I’m wrong about you.”

“Swan,” he calls after her as she turns around. “Swan!” She feels her eyes burning as she goes towards the beanstalk, but doesn’t allow the tears to fall.

~~~~

#find strength in pain #cs ff #captain swan fanfic #ouat ff #once upon a time fanfic

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hailing-stars · 3 years

Text

@febuwhump day 18 “I can’t see”

burning, crying, allergies

summary

“No, Tony,” says Peter. He pulls his hands back up to his eyes. “I’m not crying… I just, my eyes are burning… like I have allergies.”

“I can’t see,” says Peter, more water leaking from his eyes. His voice sounds a bit wheezy too, and he notices that his breathing isn’t as easy as it had been just an hour ago, when he had been outside.

“What? Did you give yourself a stress migraine? Maybe you should take a break, and we’ll get back on the schoolwork tomorrow…”

Peter and the Starks discover he has a new spider-related allergy to deal with.

Flames eat the logs in the makeshift fireplace, and Peter’s mesmerized by it. He watches it with a contentment in his chest that he’s got no business feeling. He’s got way too much to do to feel this peaceful, and yet he doesn’t think it’s possible to feel any other way.

Ditching New York and driving down to Tony’s cabin for the weekend had been intended to help focus on his studying, to create a distraction free environment to power through an essay and a project he’d been avoiding for weeks.

But that hadn’t been what happened.

Instead he’d been greeted by Tony standing over the grill and Morgan jumping up and down, believing he was there simply to play with her. Peter is never great about saying no, so they swam in the lake while Tony grilled up their dinner, and once it got dark, Tony had sent Peter to the barn to haul some firewood and Pepper had built the bonfire.

The bug spray Tony had forced on him made him sneezy, but no matter how determined Peter was to dodge him and the spray bottle, the man hadn’t been persuaded to let him get away with going without it.

“That’s the only bad thing about spring down here,” Pepper had told him, at least looking at Peter with some sympathy after Tony had attacked him with the insect repellent. “The bugs are unstoppable. We had to have a team come out and treat the house yesterday.”

They had roasted marshmallows and eaten smores. They had told stories and laughed, and despite being sneezy and unproductive, Peter had had a good time. A quality Friday night, with his second family, but as the flames start to die out, Peter comes to terms with the fact that it’s over and it’s time to start on his projects.

“You’re so boring,” Tony tells him, after Peter announces he’s leaving him to hit his books. “And responsible.”

Pepper pokes Tony with a roasting stick. “Leave him alone.”

“I’m not really that responsible,” says Peter, lifting himself out of the lawn chair. “I waited until the last minute.”

“You’re getting it done,” says Pepper. “That’s all that matters now.”

Pepper offers to mentor him in time management, while Tony rambles about how he could always just start in the morning and wing it, and while Morgan takes advantage of her parents not paying attention to poke at the dying fire with a stick, causing ashes and sparks to fly.

Eventually, he manages to stumble into the house and set up a study station with his laptop, his school books, his highlighters and pens and multiple notebooks. He organizes his materials, arranges his notecards, and he’s ready to begin.

Except he’s not.

He’s just staring at his blank Google docs screen. He tries to switch to taking notes from his textbook, but the words jumble on the page and his eyes get blurry. They get blurry and watery and they don’t stop until he’s got actual tears streaming down his face, until they’re burning and no amount of rubbing them relieves them.

“Pete?”

Peter recognizes that it’s Tony’s voice, but that’s just it, he’s got to rely on his ears to do his seeing for him, as his eyes are useless. He doesn’t respond. Just buries his face into his hands and claws at his eyes.

“Kid,” says Tony. He grips his shoulder and sits down next to him. “Are you crying?”

He jabs at his eyes some more until Tony pries them away.

“It’s okay if you need help on your projects,” says Tony. “Between me and Pepper you’ve got one point five responsible adults to help you out.”

“What? Did you give yourself a stress migraine? Maybe you should take a break, and we’ll get back on the schoolwork tomorrow…”

“No, Tony,” says Peter. He pulls his hands back up to his eyes. “I’m not crying… I just, my eyes are burning… like I have allergies.”

As if on cue, he sneezes.

“Allergies? But you were fine outside…” Tony’s voice trails off, and it’s as if it clicks together in both their heads at the same time.

Tony grips his arm, pulls him to his feet, and directs him through the house and out the front door, where a welcome fresh breeze hits him and combs through his hair.

He sits on the porch swing, and after only a few seconds, he blinks and the burning in his eyes reduces to only an itch.

“Better?”

“Yeah,” says Peter, with a breath. “Way better.”

“Fantastic,” says Tony. “You’re allergic to insecticide.”

Peter groans. Just another way his spider DNA makes him weak to completely normal, everyday substances.

“So earlier when you were spraying me down with bug spray,” says Peter. He blinks, trying to get his eyes back to normal. “You were actually trying to kill me.”

“Shame it wasn’t successful,” says Tony, without missing a beat.

“Rude,” says Peter. “You know you love me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Tony. “The real question is whether or not I love you enough to try and invent a bug spray you aren’t allergic to, or if I let the mosquitoes feast on your blood.”

“Mosquitoes carry diseases. I could die.”

“Well I guess that pretty much forces my hand, doesn’t it?”

Peter laughs, then gets lost in thought. “Do you think mosquitoes turn into mosquito-spiders when they suck my blood?”

“Kid.” A look of pure terror crosses Tony’s face, and he shakes his head. “I’m gonna have nightmares now.”

“Peter.”

He looks up from the tent he’s assembling. Among the tarps and the connectors and the poles, Morgan stands wearing her pajamas and her Spider-Man slippers.

“I’m so happy you’re allergic to Repel,” she tells him. “Now we get to camp out outside and sleep in sleeping bags! It’s so awwessome.”

“Thanks, Mo,” says Peter. “I appreciate that.”

“You’re welcome,” she sings, and breaks out into the Disney song as she dances away.

The Moana song will be stuck in Peter’s head all night now, and he’s humming it under his breath when Tony comes by and drops some lanterns on the ground next to where Peter’s trying to work.

“Really gotta stop letting her play that movie all day,” says Tony.

“Like you can tell her no,” jokes Peter.

“Yeah. Good point.”

They work together quietly, and are able to assemble the family sized tent they will spend the night in, by moon and lantern light. Only Pepper opts to stay in the house, firmly stating that if she were meant to be sleeping on the ground, she would have been born centuries earlier.

Morgan’s the first to fall asleep once inside the tent and cuddled inside her sleeping bag. She manages to be completely knocked just after declaring she’ll stay up the longest.

Tony kisses the top of her head, and Peter feels guilty when he rearranges to get comfortable.

“You don’t really have to sleep out here, on the ground, with us,” says Peter. “Just cause I’m allergic to your house.”

“Are you kidding me?” says Tony. “This is great.”

“Great? Really?”

“Yeah,” says Tony. “Never really got to do this stuff with my dad. Figured I should give it a try, even if it’s hell on my back.”

Peter laughs.

“So,” says Tony. “You gonna tell me what’s the deal with the homework?”

“Homework?”

“Why all of the sudden you’re mister wait until the last minute.”

“Oh,” says Peter. He stares up at the tarp. The shadow of the tree is visible thanks to the rays of moonlight. They sway with a gentle breeze, and Peter decides he’s got no choice but to be honest. “I can’t really concentrate on things… you know, ever since getting back.”

“That’s normal.”

Peter nods against his pillow. Of course he knows it, always has known that returning from the dust wouldn't be as easy as opening his eyes after a nap, but it’s nice to hear someone say it out loud. Someone he respects as much as he respects Tony.

“I wasn’t kidding earlier when you weren’t crying,” says Tony. “I’ll help you with your projects, even if it’s just bringing you coffee and keeping you on task.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure thing, kid.”

It’s a solution Peter would’ve been too ashamed to ask for without any prompting, but one he’ll gladly accept if it means putting the semester behind him.

“Thanks, Tony. I could really use the help.”

“Yep,” says Tony. “You know now that you’re allergic to bug spray I have the perfect keep Peter away spray. Every time I want to keep my fridge stocked I can just have the house treated for insects.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Can I have that engraved on a trophy?”

“Sure,” says Peter. “Why not?”

Tony laughs, and the tent grows quiet, except for the branches above them, still being brustled by the wind, and the lake, the calm ripples of water against shore. It’s a great thing, he thinks, before he drifts off, to be allergic to bug spray, just for this moment.

#febuwhumpday18 #irondad #my fic #irondad fic #Peter has alleriges

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