#he has to be so impassive while on the inside he's just SCREAMING | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovingrosewho · 9 months

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Framed

Hello there! It’s been a while since I’ve written anything but I recently began watching Criminal Minds again and fell in love with Aaron Hotchner all over again as well, so I just had to write this, I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it :) This is my first Criminal Minds (published) fanfic, and the first Hotch x Reader I’ve written ever! (also the first nsfw)

ONE SHOT (but who knows, it may even have a part 2 on a future maybe not-so-near but not-so-far-away either)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Cis!fem!reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 3467

Summary: reader has been accused of murdering her older, rich ex-fiancé (of course I took my inspo for this piece of fanfiction from Brooke Whyndam, of the movie “Legally blonde”, also, the line “then show them a picture of his dick” is from that movie).

Warnings: NSFW content (innuendo, sex, curse words, age gap - reader is in her mid twenties, Hotch is in his early/mid forties)

“I didn’t do it!” you scream one last time slamming your fist on the table, on the edge of tears.

It had passed around 8 hours already with you in custody, accused of the murder of your ex-fiancé, a (quite older) man, CEO of a big company in town, and as if that wasn’t enough, the best friend of the sheriff.

SSA Aaron Hotchner rubs his face, tired, after observing Prentiss and Morgan’s attempts to get you to confess. It’s almost 3am.

“Sheriff, with all due respect, I think she’s telling the truth” he tells him with a soft voice after a deep sigh.

“And with all due respect, you profiled that the suspect would be a female in her mid twenties, who we’d have to get the information out of her”.

“And we also profiled she’d be seeking for attention and validation which we don’t see it happening do we?” Aaron retorts rolling his eyes discreetly.

The sheriff gives SSA Aaron Hotchner one last glance before grabbing the doorknob of the interrogation room and storming in, Hotch follows close behind, seeing how the sheriff turns off the videocamera recording what happens inside the interrogation room, knowing no good can come from asking the same questions over and over again when everybody is also tired and fed up with trying to get a false confession out of you, which, from your behavior, Hotch knows it’s impossible.

“That’s it!” the sheriff yells “You killed my best friend! Either you confess or I’ll let you rot in here the rest of the 72 hours we can have you legally detained!”

“For the last time, I. Didn’t. Do it!” you yell back.

The BAU team exchanges glances between each other.

“What judge is going to believe you huh? You were engaged to a successful man in his mid fifties! And then he goes and marries someone even younger than you!”

“That was over two years ago!” you talk back.

“You had motive and opportunity, no judge nor jury is going to understand any other reason for you to be with him that is not for the money”.

“Then show them a picture of his dick! That might clear a few things up” you finally bark at him. The sheriff looks at you in astonishment. Morgan disguises a snicker as a cough, Prentiss bites down her lower lip to suppress a laugh, and Hotchner… Hotchner just stands impassive at you.

The sheriff leaves the room enraged, and everyone else follows, not before giving you an apologetic look. Hotchner is the last one to stay. You see the slightest doubt on his eyes and the subtle twist his lips make. You know he’s thinking about letting you go, but he then lowers his stare and gets out of the room, just like everybody else.

You sigh, drained out of energy after all the interrogations. This can’t be happening to you.

You knew since the moment you met John, that just his pure acquaintance could ruin your life. He had many enemies, and even more groupies who belonged to social circles that if you hadn’t met him, you would have never even imagined they existed, but what you had never imagined either, was that after all the heartbreak, loss and pain of what you thought in that moment to be the love of your life, you’d be reliving all those feelings, cause of some stupid cop negligence.

You lay your head slowly on the table, feeling the coldness of the metal surface on your cheek, and close your eyes for just a couple of minutes. You can’t sleep, not until this nightmare is all over, but at least, you get to have a few moments of peace and quiet before some other agent enters the room and begins yet another interrogation, demanding new information. Information you don’t have.

Outside the gray room, where you can’t hear nor see anything, the BAU team argues with the sheriff about your freedom.

“We’ve gotten out of her everything we’re going to get, I’m telling you, she didn’t do it” Morgan tries to reason with him.

“An unsub who planned a homicide this calculated would be equally calculated both on his answers and his behavior, this girl was in shock when we started showing her the case photos and couldn’t get a single cohesive phrase out. You can’t pin this murder on her” Emily backs up Morgan.

The sheriff looks at both of them, puffs a sigh and places his hands on his hips before discussing.

“Look, I get it, you profilers or whatever think you’re better than all of us, but this is still my county, and while I can have her in custody, I will. Who knows? She might even give up a confession or at least some new information. Goodnight gentlemen. And lady” he starts to walk to the exit without giving any of them any chance to convince him “I suggest you too get some rest. It’s been a long day and there’s one even longer ahead of us. Lock up when you get out”.

With that last statement, the sheriff ends the discussion and exits the precinct. Morgan and Prentiss move their heads in disagreement, proceeding to look back at Hotch, who is frowning at the door the sheriff just left through.

“What now?” both the BAU members look at the unit chief.

“Sheriff is right in one thing: you should get some rest. I’ll stay here with (Y/N), keep her company and see if there’s something we missed” he declares “Call Reid, Rossi and JJ, head back to the hotel, I’ll catch up with you in a few hours”.

“Hotch she’s not our unsub” Morgan defends you again “I mean we could, let her go right?”

“I’m afraid not. If we step ahead of the local officers, we might make things worse by getting ourselves kicked out of the investigation. It’ll be of more use the sooner we find something, anything, that might help (Y/N) clear her name and get her out of here” Hotch answers, he’s looking at Morgan but directs his orders to both of them, he knows his team too well to not know for a fact that Emily is the one who’s more inclined to let you go. They both nod silently.

“All right” Emily surrenders, not just because she’s too tired to continue arguing, but because she also knows that perhaps getting back to the hotel and going over some of the facts and scenes with Reid or JJ, might be more useful “Do you want me to stay with you? I mean the precinct is completely empty. You’ll be here all by yourself”.

“It’s okay. You and Morgan. Hotel. Rest. We’ll gather first thing in the morning and go through everything we have so far” he assures and doesn’t wait for a reply, beginning to walk back to the interrogation room, hearing the exit door of the precinct close behind him and the key turning.

When he enters again, he finds you on the same position you were trying to rest, your cheek against the now warm table, your hair falling on it and covering parts of your face.

“I’m not asleep” you mutter softly “I just needed to clear my head, breath and relax for a bit”.

Hotch lets out an almost imperceptible sigh, but everything is so quiet, that you get to hear it.

“(Y/N) I know you didn’t do it” he pronounces just as softly as you.

“Really?” you frown and shift your position, sitting back on the chair, looking at him “Then… can I go?”

He presses his lips into a straight line, and lets out a firm, but still tender “no”. A single tear escapes your right eye and you wipe it off quickly, not quite giving in to the emotions just yet. Hotch notices and comes to stand right next to you, laying on the edge of the table.

“If I’d let you go, the local authorities would not let us continue the investigation and they’d pin that murder on you. Trust me, the best we can do right now is wait a few hours until everyone has cooled down and come back with fresh eyes” he guarantees you, his features relaxing as he tells you this “Everything’s gonna be fine”.

“Everything’s gonna be fine” you repeat his words slowly, then look up at him. Damn it. He’s handsome. It’s no secret to anyone you have a thing for older men, but did that trait really have to emerge right now? You can’t help but to laugh out loud at the thought, it’s absurd to you that you could be thinking of that when you’re being accused of murder.

“What’s so funny?” he asks confused, and distances himself ever so slightly from you, without leaving his place on the table.

“Nothing, just…” you start, in an attempt to explain yourself and don’t end up looking crazy “God, if I had met you under any other circumstances, I’d probably be all over you right now”.

SSA Aaron Hotchner does not move, nor his face changes towards you, but you can see the most subtle blush on his cheeks, and his fists tightening. His lips finally crack up a light smile, finding the situation absurd as well, he quickly remembers the videocamera is off.

“You do realize you could be facing murder charges, right?” he asks playfully, kinda mocking you, keeping the volume of his voice down.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry” you apologize “It’s just so late, I’m tired, and well, you’re smoking hot” you confess with an apologetic, but also mischievous, look. Hotch finally lets out a laugh. Get a hold of yourself, Hotchner, he thinks to himself, takes a deep breath and goes back to his serious stare.

“(Y/N), I understand it’s been a long day in which you’ve been under a lot of pressure, but for me to keep up this game would be not only unprofessional, but also unethical. Your mind is probably just making up this crush for you to pass the time and distract yourself from what is happening. You’ll get over me” he explains sweetly.

“I wish I could get under you instead…” your witty retort catches him off guard, he swallows hard and starts coughing. He’s not used to women flirting with him anymore, not for a long time, let alone women almost half his age.

“I’ll see you in a few hours” he says standing up and reaching towards the door, not really uncomfortable by your approaches, but more by his increasing boner.

“No, okay I’m sorry, please stay with me” you beg him, standing up as well “I was just joking. Well, not really, but just… please keep me company, stay?”

He turns back at you not realizing how close you are, less than a couple steps behind him and he almost crashes into you, but he prevents the two of you from tripping by stabilizing himself grabbing your hips, but his hands can’t get to let go afterwards. You breath heavily, feeling the arousal and heat from the proximity suffocating you.

“Please fuck me” you half ask, half beg, admitting to yourself that what you need right now is precisely what agent Hotchner said: relieving some stress and distraction.

SSA Aaron Hotchner can’t help himself.

Ugh, fuck it, he thinks. It’s the sheriff’s fault for turning off the videocamera in an attempt to scare you and try and trick you into making a confession.

Without any further notice, he grabs your ass and the highest part of the back of your thighs to lift you. Your legs instinctively wrap around his back and your arms around his neck, not breaking eye contact as you let him carry you to the table. He places you on the table with tenderness, caressing your back as he does so. You bring your dominant hand to grab his tie and pull him in for a long, wet, controlled kiss, running your other hand along his arm and chest, ending the trace on his cheek, allowing your thumb to move back and forth on his skin.

Quite to be honest, Aaron doesn’t know how well he’ll be able to perform. It’s been a while since he’s last had sex, and his mind is always either on his job, or his family. He’ll probably won’t last more than a few minutes. But he can try and make it up to you.

He begins to deviate his trace of wet kisses from your mouth, to you jaw, your neck, and slowly your chest, discovering little by little the skin under your clothes, while his hands drop by the side of your waist, hips and legs, exploring you under the midi skirt you’re wearing. His right hand finds the slit between your legs, covered by your panties, and starts caressing it through the fabric. He listens to you moan and brings his other hand to cover your mouth with endearment, letting you know you’ve got to keep quiet.

He moves your panties to the side and traces one finger along your slick, inserting it inside of you. You have to suppress an even louder moan. He moves that one finger up and down, hitting your G spot, inserting another finger when you’re ready.

“Please” you beg once again. Aaron chuckles, grabbing you and getting you closer to the edge of the table, proceeding to get down on his knees and sucking all your juices without any type of heads up. You can’t but let out a loud moan. He looks up at you, and even though his eyes demand silence, you can tell there’s the slightest grin on his lips, before he continues sucking and licking your folds and clit. Your back drops to the table, unable to keep yourself steady so you can watch him. You’re trembling with desire and lust “Agent Hotchner, please” you beg once again. Hearing you call him ‘agent Hotchner’ does something to him. He stands up, wiping a little bit of your juices off his mouth and kissing you afterwards, his hands resting on either side of you on the table, one of them coming to grab each of your nipples one at a time.

“How much do you want this?” he asks softly.

“I need you” you answer “Please, fill me”.

His eyes meet yours and he nods slowly. His mouth comes to encircle one of your nipples as he pulls down your underwear and hides it in his suit pocket, and undoes his belt and trousers, without taking any clothes off. You come up from your laying position to support yourself with your elbows on the table, not wanting to miss how the special agent from the FBI takes his cock out to give it to you.

When he’s got it out and ready for you, he pumps it up and down a couple of times before lifting entirely your skirt and positioning himself in your entrance. He enters slowly, letting you take him all in, allowing you to accustom to his size, and for the love of him, he feels like he could explode any second. He breathes deeply and clears his mind, his ego not letting him end up looking like a teenager having his first time.

“Let me ride you” you ask after a few slow thrusts, needing more of him. He looks at you and nods.

God, what is he doing? At least you’re innocent. Are you? Right? You’ve gotta be. The profile doesn’t fit. But they’ve been wrong before haven’t they?

You exchange positions so he’s laying on the table, you get on top of him and guide his cock back into you again. You part your lips in a moan when you come down on him and begin moving your hips, his hands moving alongside them. You lower yourself without stopping so you can kiss him, rubbing your whole torso on his, your sweat making your skin slip on his skin. He grabs your breasts so he can bring them to his mouth, nibbling them.

Meanwhile, you’re wondering if this might just be another trick for you to let your guard down. But what could you say that might incriminate you? You know you’re innocent. What if he’s not even a real agent?

You’re so close that you can’t give yourself permission to sink into those thoughts, instead, you start riding Hotch faster and stronger, your clit rubbing against his pelvis as you do so.

“Aaron, Aaron…” you moan lowly. You don’t know if it’s okay that you’re on a first name basis already, but it just seems weird to you if you call him ‘Hotch’ like his colleagues.

It seems like he’s perfectly fine with it, as he digs his fingertips on your hips, encouraging you to keep going, feeling how your walls tense around him as your orgasm hits you.

You moan uncontrollably as you come, not being able to keep those in, digging your nails in Aaron’s shoulder suit sleeves. Afterwards, you lay slowly on his chest, until you start feeling like he’s pulling himself out.

“Wait” you gather and pull yourself up again, with him still inside of you “What are you doing? Don’t you wanna finish too?”

He looks at you in disbelief.

“Well I thought you may wanna rest or…” he begins explaining. You laugh and look fondly at him, lowering yourself again to murmur “don’t stop” in his ear.

Of course, he remembers. Twenties.

That’s everything he needs to start thrusting into you with everything he’s got left.

“(Y/N) I’m not-“ he tries to phrase “I’m not going to last longer, I’m- is it okay if I…?”

“Come inside me” you order “It’s okay, don’t worry, I’m on contraceptives”.

He decides to believe you, for his sake, and fastens his pace until it becomes sloppy, spilling inside of you just like you asked for, his cum filling you and showing between your folds as he brings himself out.

“Oh my god” he breathes out as he brings you down to his chest, securing his arms around your back, bringing you even closer to him “I’ll put you in handcuffs myself if it turns out you’re not innocent”.

You chuckle, tracing circles on his chest through the fabric of his shirt.

“I am. But still, you can put me in handcuffs any time you want”. He laughs alongside you, still feeling a bit like a teenager. A teenager who just did something very very wrong and that nobody should find out about. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a few seconds before his cellphone starts ringing, he answers almost immediately.

“Hotchner” he says calmly “Yes I’m still here. No, everything’s fine, she’s… behaved. Prints don’t match? Well of course they don’t, was García able to tell whose are they then? Right. Well, tell her to keep digging. I’ll see you in a bit”.

After he hangs up he turns to you with a playful look.

“You never touched the gun that was in your purse, did you?” you shake your head.

“Guns and, weapons of any type really, give me the creeps, I just left it there thinking it was someone’s idea of pranking me or something”.

“Well that may have just made your case. You’re free to go. Whoever was trying to frame you did a lousy job not guessing you weren’t going to grab the gun” he tells you arching his brows at you. You stare perplexed at him.

“You’re serious? Oh my god Aaron! Thank you!” you exclaim kissing him.

“Yes, and we should get dressed and get out of here before anything else happens” he affirms gently, helping you stand up so you both can fix your clothes.

“Well, agent Hotchner, it’s been a pleasure. Truly” you tell him when the two of you are walking out of the interrogation room towards the exit.

“Pleasure is all mine, (Y/N)” he says, winking an eye at you “I’d like you to know… I don’t usually do this. I don’t…”

“Aaron” you interrupt sweetly, one of your hands coming to grab his forearm to stop him “I know. I can tell. It’s okay. I know that if I hadn’t initiated it or followed up you would have never even considered it, I get it… but now, can we please do it again?”

He chuckles.

“You know where we’re staying and the number of my hotel room, sweetheart. And I also recall reading on some case file that you’re from Virginia and were just visiting your home town?”

You smile widely at him as you nod, pulling him in from his tie for one last kiss. Or who knows, it might not even be the last one.

MASTERLIST

#hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #hotchner x reader #aaron hotch fic #hotch fic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #bau team fanfiction

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halsteadlover · 2 years

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Eye For An Eye

*Gif not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader.

• Requested by anon: Hi. I dont know if you have seen Greys Anatomy, but my request is if you could write Jay and the reader in the season 6 finale of Greys. With the reader being in Dereks place(she can be a surgeon) and Jay in Merediths. He doesnt have a gun on him when it happens, so he cant protect them. And instead of Christina, Its Will who does the surgery on Y/N. So I dont know if you have seen it, or if you are completly confused, but if you have, it would mean alot😊

• Warnings: blood, curse words, gunshots

• Word count: 7138.

• A/N: I think this is the longest piece I've ever written and as always it's shitty 💀 I'm sorry for how this turned out but I hope you'll like it. Let me know what do you think, like, comment and reblog if you want 💞 Love you all and thank you for your support.

Each person has a different way of doing, of thinking, of acting. Each situation is different from another and for each one there is a different way of reacting. When you’re happy there are those people who jump of joy, there are those who cry, those who cannot stop laughing or clapping their hands. When you are sad there are people who withdraw into themselves, those who prefer the company of some friends or their partner, those who don’t let themselves be discouraged.

But when you lose a loved one, this is a very broad discourse, difficult to enclose in just few lines, but even in this case each person has their own reaction, their own way of dealing with pain. There are those who cry desperately, those who scream since the pain of the loss is so strong because this is a kind of pain that tears inside you, tears your heart out; there are those who seem impassive, just because they need to metabolize, they don’t cry, they don’t scream, don’t despair, they remain there sitting in a corner to mull over what happened, what was going on.

During your career as a surgeon you had – unfortunately you'd dare to say – the opportunity to witness all kinds of reactions from a family member to the loss of their loved one. You were always understanding, ready to do anything to try and ease the pain those people were feeling even though you knew they hated you at the time since you were the person who gave them the worst news of their life. You thought you had seen everything but, damn it, how wrong you were, how wrong you were in having taken the arrogance of being able to think you knew the human being in its complicated and absurd interest. As already mentioned, every person has his own type of reaction in relation to a certain situation but never in your life, not even for a second, you would’ve thought the death of a patient could also have been the cause of yours.

“Doctor Y/LN, the patient is in atrial fibrillation,” a nurse had warned. You were in the midst of a brain operation on a woman, Ellen Hopkins, a 50-year-old lady who had a meningioma, a benign brain tumor but which, given its location and size, was quite dangerous to remove and carried high risks.

“The patient has her skull open, a wrong movement and I could make her paralyzed for life” you replied, the forceps and the electric scalpel in your hands while you were concentrating on the patient’s brain. “Two milligrams of Amiodarone, fast!”.

“The fibrillation persists,” you commented, lifting your eyes for a moment and placing them on the monitor the patient was connected to. “Damn it!” you exclaimed, putting down the surgical instruments and approaching the patient’s chest “Let’s carry out a cardioversion!”

“Charge at 200!”

Nothing.

“250!”

Still nothing, the fibrillation persisted as the patient’s values plummeted dramatically.

“350! And call cardiology!”

Not being able to use defibrillation again, you continued with the cardiac massage while waiting for a cardiothoracic surgeon to arrive in the operating room.

But Mrs. Ellen died on that operating table before someone even arrived.

“Damn it,” you cursed, taking a deep sigh and looking at the clock “Time of death, 16:33.”

Informing relatives was never an easy thing to do, you never got used to it, and that didn’t change even when you had to inform Mrs. Ellen Hopkins’ husband, Bill. You explained to him how the surgery had gone, you answered his questions, you told him you did everything possible to save his wife but that, unfortunately, she hadn’t made it.

Bill was petrified, speechless. Not a single sound came out of his mouth, not a single word, not a single tear came out of his eyes. He remained impassive, unable to process the information he had just been given. He just looked at you, straight in the eye, for a few moments before turning his gaze and walking away.

You watched him go and it was in vain to try to call his name and speak to him. You sighed deeply, running your hands over your face in frustration, blaming yourself for just ruining that man’s life. You couldn’t even imagine how he must feel at that moment, so you didn’t blame his reaction, as already mentioned, everyone had their own way of reacting to such devastating news.

As you used to do after surgery, you holed up in the doctors’ ward, ignoring everything and everyone and continuing to reflect on that surgery and what you could’ve done differently to save that woman.

And you stayed there all afternoon, until the evening, until your shift was over. They all tried to cheer you up, Connor, Will, April, to tell you it wasn’t your fault but right now you didn’t even want to hear those words, at least not from them. You just wanted Jay and one of his hugs.

Jay had been your boyfriend for almost four and a half years now and given your hectic lifestyles, being you a surgeon and him a cop, it was sometimes difficult for you to even see each other even if you were living together.

That evening it was enough for him to see you come out of the hospital doors to understand there was something wrong with you. He understood it from the way you walked at a slow pace, from the way you had your head down and your eyes on the ground.

“My love,” he began, getting up from his car on which he was leaning and walking towards you. When he finished his shift early, he always used to pick you up at the hospital or wait there until your shift ended too.

A small smile rose on your lips when you saw him, beautiful as the sun. The instant relief you felt when you saw him was something magnificent, it was amazing how even just that was enough to make you feel better.

“Hi baby,” you greeted him, immediately wrapping your arms around his chest and hugging him tightly. His arms encircled your shoulders and he too squeezed you tightly, knowing right away that you needed it right now.

“Baby are you okay? What happened?” he immediately asked in a worried tone as his hand gently stroked your head.

“Can we talk about this later? I just want to go home and forget about this day.”

Jay understood but didn't insist any further, leaving your space and knowing that when you were ready you’d tell him everything.

He slightly broke away from that embrace and with his hands he cupped your face, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. Without saying anything he kissed you, a chaste, sweet and delicate kiss you didn't even realize you needed until then.

“Has anyone dared to bother my princess? Do I have to beat the shit out of someone?” Jay asked in a menacing tone and expression, in an attempt to cheer you up. He smiled when you giggled, knowing he had succeeded and that, in reality, he was serious about this, as he wouldn’t hesitate even for a second to punch anyone who really dared to hurt you.

“No baby, no one has dares to do this wickedness,” you replied with a joking tone.

“It'll be better for them,” Jay joked, stamping a sweet kiss on your forehead that made your stomach lightly explode like fireworks. God, how much you loved that little gesture. “What do you say to go home and forget about this bad day? We can order something and watch a movie if you like.”

You nodded enthusiastically, looking forward to taking a shower and throwing yourself on the bed.

You and Jay were lying on the sofa, having dinner and watching a movie in the background that neither of you was really following. Your head was resting on his chest, your arm instead encircling his chest as he hugged you tightly, stroking your hair and kissing your forehead from time to time.

“I missed you so much today,” Jay said, making you smile even though he couldn't even see you right now.

“I missed you so much too baby, I really needed this.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, almost in a whisper. You let out a sigh, almost involuntarily, “You don't have to tough if you don't want to, I don't want to put pressure on you.”

“No sorry it’s just…” you started talking, putting yourself in a sitting position so that you could look at Jay “It's just... Surgery gone wrong, a woman died on the operating table.”

“Oh. I'm so sorry my love,” Jay replied, taking your hand and squeezing it tightly. “You don't think it's your fault, do you?”

“And who else could it be? I was the surgeon,” you blurted out “It was an operation that presented complications but it had 95% of possibilities to be a success, I promised her, her husband...”

“Baby, baby, stop,” Jay stopped you, letting go of your hand and grabbing your face with his hands and making you stop talking. “It’s. Not. Your. Fault. I wasn't there and I don't know how things went but I'm 100% sure you did everything in your power to save her and if there was a chance to do anything to keep her alive you’d do it. Complications happen, they happen, the surgery had a 95% chance of success but unfortunately that 5% is always there, it's hard, but it's always there and it's nobody's fault, much less yours. Don’t blame yourself for this baby, you are one of the most talented surgeons in the entire hospital…”

“Why can't I help but feel like shit then? Maybe I didn't consider some variables, I was too sure and a patient died,” you said, your voice almost broken by trying to hold back the tears. But from the way Jay wiped one, you could tell the attempt was completely in vain.

“Because we are human, it's in our nature to blame ourselves when something doesn’t go as planned and we always need to have an answer to the things that happen but the truth is that not everything has an answer, the universe operates in a mysterious way and I know for sure, I’d bet on it, there was nothing you could’ve done that you haven't already done.”

You sighed, then resting your head on his chest as he hugged you in an attempt to console you.

“I'm here for you baby, cry and let it go as long as you want, I won't let you go,” he continued to whisper, occasionally leaving sweet and delicate kisses on your forehead. He continued to hug you indefinitely, whispering words of comfort to you until you calmed down and stopped crying. You didn't know how to express your gratitude for having such a fantastic man like Jay by your side, you’d never have known how to do it without him. He was your rock, your backbone, what put you back together when your world fell apart.

In the next two days nothing special happened, you and Jay went on normally with your jobs, you operated, he arrested criminals.

It was Friday and it was now late morning while you were in the operating room after finishing an operation on a man with spinal problems. As usual, you washed your hands and left the operating room before going to write everything down on the patient's medical record.

Everything seemed to go on normally, lunchtime came quickly and as usual, Jay came to the hospital to pick you up and go eat something together. You were still busy in the last morning visits and Jay took the opportunity to exchange a few words with his brother Will, who was at the reception.

“Look who’s bere, I thought you died,” Will commented, jokingly.

“Yeah, I'm sorry I didn't show up but work has been killing me lately, it's like the criminals have all woken up at the same time,”Jay explained “How is everything going?”.

“It's okay. I’m fine, Maya is back in town tomorrow and I can't wait to see her again, work is going pretty well, in short, I have nothing to complain about and I can finally exchange few words with my little brother.”

Jay chuckled and was about to answer when a man's voice interrupted him.

“Excuse me,” the man said, getting attention “I'm looking for doctor Y/N Y/LN, where can I find her?”.

Jay immediately turned to the man after hearing your name being mentioned and looked him up and down, studying his appearance and making sure he wasn't some ex or, worse, a shady guy. He was a man who couldn’t exceed fifty-five, tall, slender physique, balding. He had his hands tucked into the pocket of his visibly ruined pants and his gaze totally absent.

“She’s finishing her last visits, you can wait in the waiting room and I will call you,” Will replied cordially.

“No, it's pretty urgent. I'm here for my wife and the doctor made an appointment for me today and at this time,” said the man, so calmly, a behavior that was not expected of someone who had a loved one hospitalized.

“I’m sure you can wait here too, the doctor will come down immediately and see you,” Jay continued, but the man insisted that the matter was urgent and he needed to see her right away.

“If the doctor told you that, you can go now,” Will said, going on to explain where to find you.

The man thanked him and started walking towards the elevator. By now he had memorized the way to your ward, which was only on the first floor.

Slowly, the man approached the ward where, however, a nurse stopped him.

“Sir, visiting hours are over, you can't stay here.”

“I'm looking for Doctor Y/LN,” he replied, completely ignoring the nurse's words.

“You can come back here at three in the afternoon, when visiting hours start again.”

Soon the situation plunged completely into the abyss, in a whirlwind of chaos and despair.

The man pulled a gun out of his jacket pocket and without any sign of remorse or hesitation, shot that nurse, making his body fall to the ground, lifeless.

The sound of the shot echoed throughout the entire floor and the terrified screams of doctors, nurses and the patients themselves began to spread. They all started running away at the speed of light fearing for their lives. There were, however, those who couldn’t even get out of bed, asleep patients who were unable to save themselves.

When suddenly Jay saw a wave of people running from the elevator, terrified, he knew immediately that something was wrong. He and Will quickly exchanged a worried look and Jay immediately tried to stop someone to ask for an explanation.

“Hey! Hey! What the hell is going on?!” he exclaimed aloud, but everyone ignored him, continuing to run away. He stopped a man, who in terror stammered a few words.

“A… A man… He has a… He shot… He has a gun.”

Jay’s heart stopped beating for a moment as he heard those words. His mind immediately understood what was happening, who was the aggressor and his first thought was you. That man had targeted you, he wanted you.

A feeling of panic took over him and his brain went completely blackout. His first instinct was to run to the elevator and try to find you before that man found you but Will stopped him.

“Where the hell are you going?!”

“What do you mean where the hell am I going? That man is looking for Y/N I have to find her!”

“Jay you need backup!”

“You get as many people out as possible, I call the rest of the team and look for Y/N,” Jay had replied and before Will could even answer, he run for the elevators. After quickly making the call and making sure the team and SWAT were coming soon, he put his cell phone in his pocket and reached for his gun.

At that precise moment a shiver went through his body as he realized he didn’t have his gun with him and that he had left it in the dashboard of his car.

“Fuck!” he whispered angrily to himself. That didn’t stop Jay, however, determined to find you before the madman did. He began to wander the corridors of that floor, constantly looking around. He felt the sweat tinge his forehead and his heartbeat greatly accelerated, not so much because of the situation but because he knew your life was in danger. He kept praying with every fiber of his being you were okay, that you were able to hide somewhere.

The anxiety and worry he was feeling at that moment were feelings he had felt a few times in his life and knowing that you, the love of his life, were in danger and, above all, he couldn’t do anything to help you, it destroyed him. Deep down he couldn’t even formulate a single coherent and rational thought.

The last thing you expected that day – and to be honest, you didn’t expect at all – was to find yourself face to face with an armed man pointing his gun at you.

“Mr. Hopkins…” you whispered, short of breath and heart pounding. Mrs. Ellen Hopkins’s husband, the lady who had passed away on your operating table a few days earlier, stood in front of you, with an absent look, and with the gun pointing straight at you.

“You killed my wife,” he said, his voice cold, aloof, as if a robot had taken possession of him.

“I… Mr. Hopkins I don’t…” you stammered, having no idea how to get out of that situation.

“You killed my wife!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, showing some emotion for the first time. His sudden change of tone made you jump with fear, and in pure instinct you raised your hands up, visibly trembling.

“Mr. Hopkins, please… Lower that gun, there is no need, I promise you I will answer any of your question.”

“Shut up!” he yelled again “There is no question you can answer! You killed my wife! The love of my life! You took her away from me and today you will die like her!”.

Your eyes filled with tears, but you tried in vain not to cry.

Fuck no, you didn’t want to die, not that day, not like that.

“Mr. Hopkins… I ask you please, let me explain how things went, I’m sure you will want to know why. I know this won’t bring your wife back and I’m terribly sorry about that, I know how much you loved her and how much she loved you, but I can help you find answers if you wants.”

“And what could fix this? She died!” he exclaimed, waving his gun at you and making you jump again.

Oh God please.

“Nothing, I know it won’t bring her back to life, but it might help you find some peace, I’m sure, in fact, I’m 100% sure Ellen would like you to be at peace, she doesn’t want you pining for her death.”

“I don’t want to hear you talk!” Bill continued, now taken by anger and resentment “I hate you! I hate you so much! You were the one who had to heal my wife, make her feel better and not kill her! ”.

Your heart tightened in a vise and you couldn’t not feel guilty. You rationally knew it wasn’t your fault but, subconsciously, you couldn’t help but think so.

“Okay, okay, but please Mr. Hopkins, this thing is just between me and you alright? No one else has to suffer from this tragedy, no family has to mourn their loved one, if you want to blame me that’s fine but leave the other innocent people alone.”

“I don’t care a damn about the others, they were just accidents along the way. I wanted you Dr. Y/LN, you ended my wife’s life and I will end yours.”

Your blood froze in your veins, your brain working hard to try to invent a way to escape from that situation.

At that moment your thought was only one, only Jay, and how much you wished him to appear through that door and take you away from there. You couldn’t stop thinking how that morning could’ve been the last time you saw him, how you wanted nothing more than to take refuge in his arms.

Bill clicked the safety of his gun and a feeling of panic took hold of you completely, fearing that these would be your last moments in life.

“Bill… Please listen to me,” you begged him “I know you aren’t a bad person, I know you are grieving terribly for the loss of your wife and I am so sorry, there has not been a moment when I have not thought of her and I don’t even dare imagine your suffering, damn it, I don’t even know how I would’ve reacted in such a situation. I know it’s just the sadness and anger that are talking now, and you are right to be angry with me, with the world, with whoever is up there who took Ellen away from you and I don’t blame you for that. I know I was the person you trusted most to save her life and I betrayed this trust and I will forever apologize for that, because I wanted Ellen to recover as much as you did. I am not a perfect being, I am human too and as such I can make mistakes but I am ready to pay the consequences,” you spoke, and noticing that he was listening to you you continued “I did my best and believe me when I tell you that if there was a single minimal thing I could’ve done to save her, I would’ve done it but I know you don’t see it that way now. Bill... I… I have a family too, I’m somebody’s daughter, sister, niece, girlfriend and like I said I know you’re not a bad person, I know you never want any family to go through what you are going through right now.”

“You’re wrong Dr. Y/LN,” he replied, suddenly calm, as if all the anger he felt until recently had magically vanished. “I want everyone to feel exactly what I’m feeling.”

The sound of a gunshot boomed throughout your office room as it kept repeating in your mind. Suddenly the whole world around you fell into total silence, there was only a subspecies of hum that you could clearly hear with your ears.

You didn’t realize it right away. It took you a few moments to do it.

You didn’t realize right away he actually shot you. It was only when you looked down and watched the blood splatter spread across your uniform that you really realized he had shot you.

Your body fell into a trance state and you didn’t immediately feel pain, due to the adrenaline flowing through your veins.

You fell to the ground, without strength, the blood expanding rapidly under your body and soiling all your clothes. You had no idea what was going on, you didn’t know if you were dead, if you were still alive, if your attacker was still there, if it was all a terrible nightmare.

Your mouth was completely dry, your jaws so dehydrated as if you had just run a marathon. Your heart was beating madly as your chest rose and fell quickly even though each breath was like receiving a stab, one was more painful than the other.

At that point the pain slowly began to be excruciating, so persistent as to be almost paralyzing. It felt as if millions of needles were penetrating your skin with extreme and devastating agony.

Jay was right there, he had witnessed that frightening and horrible scene from afar, given the open door of your office. He had seen how that man shot you in cold blood and without the slightest doubt or hesitation.

It was Will who literally held him back by force, or he would’ve come to you, or he would’ve tried to save you. He would’ve even taken that bullet for you, he would’ve fought to try to save you, but he couldn’t have done it and now you were probably even dead.

It didn’t do any good to wriggle with all the strength he had in his body, try to escape Will’s grip, yell at him to let him go.

“Fuck Will, let me go!” Jay kept screaming, trying to run away, in despair he had never been in his life. His stomach was in a vise and a lump in his throat had formed.

But when that shot rang out within the walls of that hospital, Jay was completely paralyzed for a few seconds, as if for a moment he had feared he had an auditory hallucination.

He stood still as his mind processed what was really going on.

“No!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, freeing himself from Will and running at lightning speed to your office. He didn't have anything else in mind but you at that moment and he didn't even care that bastard had vanished, he just wanted to see you.

Seeing you poured into a pool of your own blood was an image that would never leave his mind again.

“Baby! Baby! Please wake up, don't leave me!” Jay exclaimed, immediately leaning over your body, not caring in the least he was soiled with blood. He took your face in his hands, breathing a sigh of relief when he noticed you were still alive, trying to mumble something.

“Shhh my love, don't talk, keep your strength okay? I'm here now, I won't let you go, please hold on tight” Jay begged, “Will!” his eyes blurred with tears and only then he realized he was crying “Please don't play tricks on me, you have to stay with your eyes open okay?”.

“J-Jay…” you muttered, struggling to keep your eyes open “It hurts so much...”

Jay cried even more to hear those words, knowing you were in terribly much pain and there was nothing he could do to end that pain. He continued to caress your face, your hair, noticing the paleness of your skin. He knew very well how you felt, he knew how a shot could be terribly painful.

“I'm so sorry I didn't come earlier baby, please don't leave me okay? I love you so much, I can't live without you…” he cried “Try to hold on for me, you'll be fine I promise...”

“I... I want to sleep Jay...”

“No, no, no, no,” he replied, panic in his voice. “Don't fall asleep, okay? You have to keep these beautiful eyes of yours open, can you do this for me my love? I know it's difficult but you are so strong, you are the strongest person I know... Don't do this to me, don't leave me baby…”

But at that moment you weren't strong at all, you weren't a fighter and you didn't have the energy and strength to fight. You just wanted to let yourself go and get some sleep, just for a little while.

The room slowly began to fade as black splotches appeared before your eyes and at that point you could no longer fight to keep your eyes open and found yourself sucked into a whirlwind of darkness.

“Will!” Jay yelled in utter despair again.

Will immediately walked into your office after rushing to get a stretcher and an emergency kit, and seeing the blood and you unconscious in Jay's arms he knew immediately that the situation was dire.

“I’m sorry I was finding these. We need to get her to the OR immediately. Jay help me put her on the stretcher,” Will ordered, trying to stay as cool and lucid as possible even though it was hard for him to see you like that too. You weren't just his brother's girlfriend, you were also his colleague and a very dear friend.

“Take her by the shoulders, I’ll take her by the legs. At three we raise her, okay?”.

Jay nodded, trying to wipe away his tears quickly and did what Will said.

“One. Two. Three.”

They placed you on the stretcher and all three of you immediately left the office, trying to go as quickly as possible to the operating room. It was a race against time, and both Will and Jay knew it, there was no room for mistakes, there was no room for hesitation.

“Will,” Jay called his brother, before seeing him enter the OR.

Will turned and immediately understood the words Jay was about to say.

“I can't be without her, save her please.”

Will's heart squeezed in a vise and never as in that moment he felt a huge weight on his shoulders because he knew if things went wrong he wouldn’t only lose you, a friend, a colleague, an exceptional doctor, but he would also lose his little brother.

He nodded before turning and walking into the operating room.

Jay didn't know what to do with himself. He never felt so helpless and at the same time cutting out from the world.

He didn't know the rest of his team had arrived there in the hospital, that the man was immediately found and arrested after killing that nurse and seriously injuring you and two other people but Jay didn't even care.

He didn't care where he was, he didn't care if he suddenly appeared behind him or even if he went around the hospital. He knew this wasn’t correct, his motto was to protect and serve but he didn’t give a fuck, he wanted nothing more than to know you were alive, safe and sound, that you were okay.

When it came to you, there was no criminal, job or any other matter that had a priority over you, there was nothing he wouldn’t have abandoned just to know that you were happy, that you were well and healthy. You had always been the center of his world since he met you and he didn’t even care how absurd it seemed, but it was the truth, you were his everything, all that was most important to him and knowing he had done nothing to avoid hurting you was killing him, devouring him inside.

The thought there was only a wall to divide you physically but an abyss mentally, was something that Jay just couldn’t understand and in the hours when Will operated on you, he thought he literally died a thousand times.

For the first time in his life he had understood the real meaning of fear and it was a feeling he never wanted to try again. It was horrible, devastating, debilitating, feeling that damned fear, that paralyzing and visceral feeling of anxiety that twisted his stomach in a tight grip. He was afraid of losing you, of never seeing you again.

How could he live without you?

How could he only think of living in a world where you were not there?

He wasn’t ready. He would never be.

This option had never even touched his head since you became a part of his world. He wanted to be with you forever, until his last breath and that was not even enough, because he knew that even in the afterlife your souls would be reunited and you would be together again.

What would he do if he never saw you again? What if he could no longer talk to you, hear you laugh at his sleazy jokes, hear you romp when you were happy, see you smile, hug you when you were sad and wipe your tears when you lost some patient on the operating table? What would he have done without your immense clumsiness, so much that he didn’t even know how you were a surgeon sometimes, without your disastrous cooking, without your hair ties thrown all over the place, without your obsessive way of disinfecting everything? What would he have done without your kisses, your hugs, your way of making him feel so pampered and loved, always, every day and every second?

“Fuck no, no, no, no,” Jay muttered to himself, as if to banish those horrible thoughts from his mind, “God please, please, save her, let her come back to me…”

After about an hour in which you were in the operating room, the rest of the intelligence reached Jay and in vain his friends tried to calm him down.

It was only when he saw Will come out the door of that damned operating room that he came back to breathe a bit and at the same time die of heartbreak and anxiety.

“So? How did it go? Is she fine? Please tell me she’s okay,” Jay spat out, immediately approaching his brother. He studied the expression on his face in the smallest details and a modicum of hope lit up when he didn’t see that typical expression you had when you had to communicate the death of a loved one, he didn’t seem sad, on the contrary.

“The surgery was a succes, I am 99% sure she will recover completely. The bullet had pierced the stomach but fortunately there was no major damage. Now I’m taking her to ICU and we’ll have to wait for her to wake up,” Will explained and couldn’t even explain the transformation Jay underwent. He noticed the precise moment when that veil of anxiety and worry finally disappeared, replaced instead by joy and happiness.

In a rush of happiness Jay hugged his brother, squeezing him like he had never done before. “Thank you Will, thank you so much.”

Will returned that hug, smiling. “You don’t have to thank me, she is very strong.”

“Yeah, she really is,” Jay replied through tears, only then realizing he was crying. “When can I see her?”.

“In a while don’t worry.”

Seeing you lying on that hospital bed was an image Jay would never have thought of seeing in his life, it was literally a blow to his heart. You had oxygen goggles inserted in your nostrils, your face was terribly pale but despite that you were still the most beautiful creature Jay had ever seen.

He stood next to you and he never took his eyes off you for not even for a second. His hand gently stroked your hair, as he used to do when you slept. It had now become a habit, stroking your hair and watching you sleep. Sometimes it happened that you smiled even in your sleep, snuggling closer to him, but this time it didn’t happen.

Your skin was cold under his fingers, as he stroked your cheeks and, God, he would’ve given anything to be in your place, so as not to see you hurt even for a minute.

Jay leaned over and gave a kiss on your forehead, as he kept caressing your face and hair.

“Do you have any idea how much I fucking love you? How do you make me feel? How important you are to me?” Jay began to speak, remembering the words you said to him once and that talking to patients asleep can have a positive effect on their awakening. He left another kiss on your forehead. “Do you have any idea how much you scared me today my baby? God, I've never felt so scared as I did today, not even while I was overseas. Seeing that son of a bitch...” Jay stopped, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat as he remembered the moment you were shot “I'm so sorry I couldn't stop him, I don't want to imagine how scared you were, I’ll never be able to forgive myself, I was there, a few meters from you, I have always sworn to protect you and keep you safe but I have failed and I am so sorry.”

“Please wake up baby, don't you dare leave me here alone okay? I can't be in this fucking world without you. I swear to you, I'll never leave you alone again, but now you just have to open your beautiful eyes alright? Can you do it for me? Show me those beautiful eyes that made me madly fall in love with you?”.

Jay stood there at your bedside indefinitely, watching you sleep and hoping that sooner or later you would finally open your eyes. Will spent nearly every twenty minutes visiting you and it was in vain for him to try to get Jay to go and rest.

It was when he felt your fingers move slightly, after almost twelve years, that he feared he was truly hallucinating.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” he literally jumped up from his chair, holding your hands as he looked at you “Baby, can you hear me? Please answer me, give me a sign. Please, please, please.”

He felt your fingers move slowly again and at that point he made sure it really happened, it wasn't a joke his mind was playing on him.

It took you some time to understand what was happening, where you were.

Your head was pounding terribly as if you were being hammered, your vision was blurred and you had to blink several times to focus.

The first thing you saw were the artificial lights coming from the ceiling, which at the time were terribly annoying.

“Where am I?” you grumbled with difficulty, feeling weak and completely without strength.

“You're in the hospital, love,” replied a voice you recognized immediately. It was Jay, your Jay. “No, no, stay still, don't get up.”

Your eyes met Jay's and the joy he felt at seeing you awake was something that was minimally comparable.

“You finally woke up,” he said, almost in a whisper, as if he hardly believed it. He stroked your hair, leaving a kiss on your forehead.

Suddenly images of what had happened flooded your mind, the exact scene in which you were shot seemed to repeat itself in a loop in your head.

“Has... Has any other person been hurt?" you asked.

Jay nodded his head, sadly. “But they’re all fine. He was caught soon after, he surrendered without opposition.”

“And you? How are you?”.

He chuckled, taking your hand with his and letting a kiss on it. “You're the one on a hospital bed.”

You let out a faint laugh but it results in a painful twinge. “I guess I deserved it.”

Jay's face immediately turned serious and his heart tightened in his chest as he heard these words. “You can't really believe such thing. You don't deserve to be here baby, it's not your fault what happened, please, get it out of your pretty little head.”

“His wife is dead and I had to save her,” you whispered, your gaze fixed on the ceiling as you tried in vain to hold back the tears.

“His wife died of a complication, every surgery has it, you always tell me, and you did everything possible to save her. You don't have to pay for something you are not to blame for, please stop thinking this okay?”.

You were silent for a moment and you then returned your eyes to Jay.

“Baby... Are you crying?” you asked, alarmed. He shook his head slightly, wiping away his tears quickly and avoiding looking at you.

“No, I'm not,” he muttered but let go when you started stroking his face. He lowered his head and let himself go in a liberating cry, venting the frustration, the anger, the sadness but above all, the relief.

“Oh baby, it's okay, it's okay,” you tried to console him as best you could given your position.

“I was so fucking scared to lose you Y/N…” he whispered.

“I know, love, I know, I'm sorry.”

“You don't have to apologize, on the contrary, I’m sorry, I should be the one to console you,” he said, wiping his tears and then looking at you. Your heart skipped a beat to see his beautiful green eyes shine so bright, still shiny from crying.

“You don't have to apologize Jay, there was nothing you could’ve done to stop it and you don’t have to blame yourself for not being able to stop this from happening,” you spoke up, realizing you were crying too.

“What about we both stop to blame ourselves?”.

“We have a deal,” you faintly smiled “Do you have any idea how much I fucking love you too?”.

Jay let out a laugh, knowing you had actually heard his words as he spoke to you. He stood up again and leaned towards you before grabbing your face and pressing his lips against yours. There were no words to describe what he felt, what that contact caused within him, the relief to know he still had another chance to be with you, he still had he chance to kiss and hug you forever.

“Can you get close to me?” you asked.

“But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me, please baby, I need you now.”

“God, how can I say no to this beautiful face?” he said and you giggled, trying to ignore the pain that this entailed. Slowly and carefully, you tried to move in the bed, so you could make room for Jay and not make the stitches fit.

“Be careful baby,” Jay warned, helping you.

Jay positioned himself beside you, trying to be careful not to make any sudden movements, and he put his arm under your head. He printed so many kisses on your face and forehead, still unable to believe the luck of still having you there with him.

“I swear to god I’ll never let you leave the house again, I can’t risk someone taking you away from me.”

You giggled again. “Don’t make me laugh please, it hurts.”

“It’s not my fault you have such a funny boyfriend, it’s something you’ll have to live with.”

You hit him with that bit of strength you had, aching from the wound. “Can you stop it?”.

“Sure my love,” he kissed you on the forehead again. “Now try to rest, okay? You need to regain strength so I’ll get you home as soon as possible. I will always be here beside you, I won’t let you go.”

And with those words of comfort, you slowly slipped into a deep sleep, into the arms of the man you loved and with the hope, sooner or later, everything would be fine, everything would return back to normality.

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haenypages · 11 months

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A Heart Of Steel

Assassin! Lucerys Velaryon x Targaryen! Reader

Summary: Before the incident, Lucerys and the youngest daughter of Viserys & Alicent were secretly dating. Now he has come to seek revenge upon her, thinking she was the cause of his near death.

Wordcount: 2.5k

Warnings: blood, fluff, angst, minor spoilers of Aegon & Aemond in S2 based on the book

Reader's POV

It was all a misunderstanding. I did not expose nor betray Lucerys' location to Aemond. I have no notion of how he ended up alive and the fact that he joined an assassin guild to learn the ways of killing just to take avenge for himself.

I wept for him everyday thinking that he was dead in the hands of my brother, or rather his dragon until this very moment, after nearly one year in which The Dance of the Dragons has entered into an intense stage.

This is definitely not the Lucerys Velaryon I've known. The sweet dragon prince as if straight out of the folk tales was gone. It was the hour of the wolf. I'm heading back to my bedchamber in the Red Keep when I saw a figure in a shadowy corner, another figure that I reckoned a sentinel lying on the bloodstained floor, motionless. Dead.

The hooded figure slowly approached from the shadow and abruptly I gaped in disbelief, not trusting the face I saw under the hood. "Luke." I whispered, knowing him from his scent and form although his gait has changed from stiff to seemingly nonchalant.

I wanted to run to him, embrace him until I saw a glint of iron in one hand and an impassive face. "What are you doing here?" I involuntarily backed a step. Silence. No response. His slow creeping started to turn into a walk. That's when my mind tells me to flee, so I did what it's told.

"I'm going to kill you, dārilaros (princess)!" he said without preamble. He ran after me. "What why- I don't understand!" Panting heavily, trying to find anyone in the hallway for help while trying to further the gap between Luke. "You knew exactly why! You'd told Aemond that I'm at Storm's End."

Luke acquired a throwing knife from the inside of his boots. It whistled past me, making a gash at my arm, blood trickled from it. I resorted to yelling since there was no one I could see, my sprint slowed gradually and he was increasing.

He's closing our gap! I'm about to veer around another corridor until I feel a hand clasping around my wrist firmly and another clamping over my mouth. My screams were muffled. Without thinking, I bit into the hand that covers my mouth, drawing droplets of blood.

The hand let go, the dagger releasing an audible clunk when it hits the stone floor. Lucerys hissed in frustration. The sound has drawn its attention. Voices! Footsteps! Someone is coming this way!

"HEL-" Lucerys pushed me against the wall, causing me a concussion before I could fully utter the words. Stars were forming. My head, shoulders, and back were in agony. The knife was back in his hands and immediately at my throat, drawing a thin line of blood. I struggled feebly in his grip, feeling helpless. "Please Luke, this is a mistake." I looked into his eyes one last time before the world around me went black.

Luke's POV

She slumped into me after she passed out. I carried the unconscious y/n away with me before the night patrol could investigate what had happened. For the present, they had interrupted my attempt at assassination. I searched for her chamber that we had our fun times together in the past. Seven be damned! Stop dwelling on those memories!

Winding through the familiar corridors, I finally found the quarter I am looking for. I unlatched the door with my nimble fingers, hinges creaking. After I was certain that the door was shut securely, I placed her on the bed. Binding her wrists together at one of the bedposts with hempen ropes and gagging her mouth.

I have made the decision of interrogating her when she's awake, giving her a chance. My current self may be ruthless, but there is still a tidbit of kindness in me that has been cultivated by my family, the family that thought I was dead and mourned for me.

I went to her bookshelf straight away, knowing well this is where her mind often wanders into, as well as mine. She was always intrigued by the stories of the dragonlords of Valyria before the Doom.

She once requested that I read to her more frequently from books and scrolls because she enjoys my Valyrian accent, therefore I did mostly each day just to lull her to sleep with my soothing voice. Unfortunately, that is not happening again. She broke my heart.

I skimmed through the pages, missing the smell of papers and inks. Books are barely seen in the assassin guild since weapons were the only thing we would require. After some more skimming, the groaning from the bed eventually distracted my attention. Immediately, I put the book down on the table. Walking towards her, dagger poised.

She slowly opened her eyes, examining the wounds on her throat and arm as she attempted to break free of the binding before her eyes landed upon mine. For a moment she froze like a frightened animal. My tutor taught me not to trust anyone. Told me that expressions could be a farce for sympathy. So I did not fall for that. But her feelings somehow look true to me.

"Good, you're awake. And no screaming." I took the gag off her and then sat down on the bed beside her. Knife dangerously close to her cheeks, then tracing her cheekbones with an air of disinterest as possible. She gulped.

"So tell me, how does Aemond know of my whereabouts? You're the only Green who knew I'm heading for Storm's End trying to make an alliance on my mother's behalf." I intoned, eyebrows furrowed. She began stammering for a second and eventually calmed down a little. "It was Aemond. Before I had the opportunity to take the parchment from the raven, he took it first." I frowned at her, she averted her gaze, looking at her lap and fidgeting with her fingers. "I should have locked the door. I never thought he'd sneak into my room. I'm so sorry." My heart softened without my mind's consent.

I am still hesitating about the things she confessed to me. It was just words. How could I trust mere words? At the mention of Aemond, my uncertainty was briefly replaced by an inevitable rage. I'd heard that he's come back from the raids at the Riverlands to continue his rule as regent. It was said that after the battle of Rook's Rest, following Aegon's disappearance, Aemond was named as regent of the Seven Kingdoms.

"I'll deal with you later when I finish that kinslayer." I announced, walking to the door. At the same time, I unsheathed the sword at my hip, checking the sharpness. I nodded with satisfaction.

"You can't just leave me here being tied up! You can't find Aemond without my guidance anyways." She pleaded. I stopped abruptly, knowing it was true. I needed her guidance to seek Aemond before dawn. I rolled my eyes and went back to her, loosened the ropes to the bedpost, and gripped both of her wrists, pushing her along as a signal to stride in front of me. Then we were out of the chamber.

Reader's POV

Whenever I walked slowly, Lucerys would thrust the tip of his blade into my back. I winced, not believing he would truly do this to me. I did not hesitate to go to the throne room first. Aemond may be sleeping in his bedchamber at this hour, but he's infatuated with the Iron Throne lately. Luke would stay alert and call for a halt to hide whenever he senses someone was around.

I led him down a series of spiral stairs, out of the holdfast, through a bridge, walking by courtyards, and eventually reaching the building in which the throne room was situated. "There's two sentinels in there guarding the hallway, I hope you're ready." I turned to look at him, expecting to see an anxious face. But instead, he looks prepared for the upcoming predicament. The doors were ajar so we sneaked into it.

Before the guards could take out their swords from the scabbards, Luke hurled a throwing knife into one of them. Hitting him in the ribs. The other one rushed to Luke, their blades collided together making sparks. After a few more exchanges, Luke found a chink in his armour and strike hard and fast. The guard collapsed.

"What is all the commotion?" The double doors to the throne room flew open, revealing my uncle Gwayne Hightower and the other kingsguards. How can Lucerys defeat them! He's doomed. "Uncle!" Walking to him but Lucerys pulled me back, placing me right in front of him while the sword he was holding raised to my throat defensively making me his hostage. Swords were drawn out.

"Sheathe the steel or I'll kill her." Luke said. They all gave each other apprehensive glances before taking a few steps back. But not my uncle who stood at the doorway. "Ah, aren't you Rhaenyra's boy? This is hardly an act of reverence for the princess, lad." The two of them stare intensely at each other until Luke breaks the staring contest. "It would please me if I could see the regent." For my sake, my uncle moved from his spot at the doorway and led us into the room with a high ceiling.

Luke's POV

Aemond was sitting upon the throne, legs dangled from one of its arms. A few of the council members were there discussing important matters with him. The discussion stopped when we arrived. My presence seemed to leave Aemond totally dumbstruck. Good.

"Nephew, did the Seven send you back to me? You should put that pointy thing away from my sister by the way." y/n casted me a side eye. Aemond grinned a mirthless grin, there was no true joy in it. "The gods have sent me back for vengeance, uncle." I said with an emotionless mien. "Ah yes, I hope the skills you've been honing were worthy of a vengeance. How can I assist you, my dear nephew?" Obviously teasing about my skills in arms.

"I demand a court of swords. A fight to the death." Everybody in the room tensed. "What." Aemond's face twitched. y/n shifted in my grasp uncomfortably. "You and me. No one else. If I kill you, you'll die. If you kill me, you'll get y/n." Making my point clear. Aemond stood up from his seat and started pacing back and forth, pretending to be considering my request. He stopped his pacing. "Deal." His head snapped to me, giving me a murderous look.

While he slowly walks down from the dais, away from his precious throne, one of the kingsguard escorted y/n away from me. She gave me a tight squeeze of my hand before I let go of her wrists, unsure what it meant. Good luck? Aemond is too good for you? The others walked away from the center, making space for the fight. We came face to face at the center, staring at each other from opposite sides.

"Any last words?" The regent chuckled. "Go to seven hells." I replied. I heard y/n coughed. Within a dozen heartbeats, Aemond's sword came down from above. I blocked the overhead strike that will likely deeply injure me if I didn't deflect it. After a series of attacks, Aemond scowled. Not expecting that I'm still standing. Smiling, a new surge of energy coursed through my body. I fight my way for vengeance.

Reader's POV

I stand in one corner, witnessing the scene unfolding before me. One is my brother. One is my lover. I didn't want to lose either of them. Lucerys seems to be under control, attacking and counterattacking the whole time. He suddenly slipped into Aemond's guard and a thin line formed at my brother's thigh. Blood dripped from it.

Brother looked up from his injured thigh and started bombarding a whirlwind of attacks toward Luke. Anger rose within him. Luke tried to parry all the blows but one had slashed him across his shoulder, causing him to stagger. Aemond continued his furious assaults without giving Luke a moment of respite. I can see the energy that seems to course through him was gradually seeping away.

Before he can regain his previous confidence, Aemond sliced another cut at his sword arm. He swung his sword desperately at Aemond, trying to do some damage to my brother to no avail. His sword arm was injured. He can't fight. He's faltering. I need to do something.

My brother raised his sword, ready to strike diagonally at Luke. For a second, Luke gripped his sword two-handed, trying to heft it. It lifted, but I know that it won't make it in time to deflect the upcoming blow. I am aware of the amount of force Aemond is building up for that specific attack.

Before the sword landed upon Luke, I hurtled myself towards the fighting ground. I heard my uncle yelling. And then the kingsguards and councilors. My back facing Aemond, the blade came down from above and slashed a long cut across my back. I dropped to one knee and yelped.

Three wounds in one night. Given by two people I love. The boys' eyes widened at the sight. The fighting ceased, Aemond was transfixed by the affliction he caused upon me. "Please, I beg both of you to end this feud." I said. Elsewhere I heard my uncle ordering someone to summon a maester.

The once sweet boy came to me, swords trailing behind him. He dropped to the floor beside me, putting his sword down and arms wrapping around me. "Why?" He said, his eyes brimming with tears, but he forced it not to pour out. "Se ra gaoman syt jorrāelagon (The things I do for love)" I beamed weakly.

Then tears fell from his face, dropping into mine. He pressed his forehead against mine. His curly hair prickled me, but I didn't care much about that. I miss his hugs. I can feel the wetness soaking my back. I can get a whiff of the metallic tang of blood. I am exhausted. I fell asleep in the arms of Lucerys Velaryon.

Epilogue (Reader's POV)

I opened my eyes groggily, looking around my bedchamber. Sunlight filtered through the window filling the room with warmth. Luke sat on the bed. I used my elbow to raise myself into a sitting position, he gave me some assistance. I can feel the bandages wrapped around my torso, probably done by the maester.

We stared at each other for a long moment before he smiled. He smiled! Such a wondrous thing! After that, he gave me a gentle peck on the lips, which I did not expect. A faint blush materialized on my cheeks and he indulged in that.

He told me of Arrax's sacrifice, how he was rescued by a fisher family from the shore, his life after he joined the assassin guild, and how he didn't reacquaint himself with his family and watched them from afar whenever he was at Dragonstone. He does love his family. I listened to him intently.

He told me that he would leave me soon, that this is no place for an assassin. "We could fake my death. I want to be with you, away from war and court intrigues. Kill me." I demanded. Lucerys smirked.

#lucerys velaryon x reader #lucerys velaryon x y/n #lucerys velaryon #hotd fic #hotd x reader #lucerys velaryon one shot #hotd one shot #lucerys velaryon imagine

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vibratingskull · 4 months

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Mermaid!Thrawn x F!reader chapter 7

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

You’re wiping the glasses and putting back the cups in their cupboard when a client enters the cafe with the song of small bells. Your colleague takes them in charge while you finish tidying up the bar. “Welcome!” you both greet.

There aren't a lot of clients at those hours usually, so you’ll have time to wipe the tables clean with a little chance. “I hope it won’t rain, I don’t like those clouds.” Your colleague mumbles. She’s a sweet 16 girl that is a bit lazy but she gets the job down, so you don’t tell, and in exchange she doesn’t tell on you when you leave before your shift ends. “Don’t count on it” you respond “It is supposed to rain the whole week.”, “Arf…Group incoming! I’ll let them to you, you’re quicker than me!”, “Oh the good excuse to dump them on me!” You nudge her and she giggles in response “I will take them if you promise to clean the coffee maker.”, “Deal!”

As the groups enter you refasten your apron and take out your notebook, clicking your pen “Hello, what can I get you… ?” your sentence dies in your throat when you realize who you have in front of you.

The group that hunts Thrawn.

“We’re just here to take cover from the rain.” The leader responds. “I can’t let you in with those harpoons.” You politely object. “And if you want to stay you’ll need to order something.”, “We’re not staying long and we won’t manipulate the harpoons inside, I promise.” he argues. “I can’t let you stay with those weapons, just lay them outside.”, “They’ll get stolen!” He responds harshly

Good! You intend on it.

“This is the law sir, you can’t just enter a shop with blades.” you gently respond. He looks black at you before sighing “Alright…” He rises and seizes the harpoons to put them outside against the wall. “Can you fill up our bottles with hot coffee?” a girl approximately your age asks, handing you said bottles, “Of course.” You take the thermos and walk behind the bar to fill them up, innocently eave-dropping on the group.

“Do you still believe?” one of them asks, looking discouraged,”I am sure they’re here! Somewhere under the surface.” the young woman responds with assurance, “Well, if someone has some optimism left it’s alway you, Karyn!” The denominated Karin smiles and high fives her comrade. The leader comes back, drenched. “You should scream louder, not everyone hears you.” He chastises, and adds even lower, “this is a secret mission you dumbass, so callate !”

The group fell silent. You finish filling the bottles and bring them back. “It's 35$.” You annonce, “it's a robbery or something ?” the leader complains, “It's 35$ or the door.” you repeat, impassible. He groans but pays, without tipping, of course.

You go back behind your bar but listen closely to what they say. “When do we try again ?”, “Not before the weather calms down. Our barks would sink.”, “He won't be happy.” Karyn notes, “Well he will have to wait! I won't die for that!” The leader hammers home “But we are advancing, we can cross several areas and some others deserve more of our attention. The open sea must be explored more.”, “In barks?” Karyn raises a mocking eyebrow, “I can procure us some motorized boats with sonar. I just have to ask him.” The leader explains, focused.

They take out a plan and start tergiversation over it. You're pricking up your ears when someone enters. “Welcome, what can I…”

Your voice dies again. Eli stands, drenched and trembling, not even taking off his hood. “My mother invites you for dinner.” He simply says, “Oh… That's super nice of her.” you finally manage to say after a second of silence. He looks tired and not pleased. “So you come or no?” He asks impatiently, “Yes ! I'll come with great pleasure. But do you want something to warm you up? A Coffee or-” but he already disappeared when you turned back to him.

Oh…

He didn't forgive you, it seems.

Your heart sinks painfully, youreally did a mistake... “Who was that hottie ?” your colleague asks. “A friend… “, “Where can I get a friend like that?”, “When you're 18. Go clean the Coffee maker.” You order, refocusing on your tasks at hand. You turn to the group only to realize they're already gone.

Crap.

Well they won't attack until the weather calms down…

When your shift ends you take your bike, and turn towards the sea. It is Black and agitated under grays, menacing clouds. Your hear thunder roars away and you pul your hood on your head, biking away from the ocean.

Away from the shore, a blue head pierces the water to look at the Land. Thrawn observes silently the people hurrying to get cover away from the Rain. It always seemed strange to him who always knew the softness of water on his skin. He doesn't know anything else but water.

A second head pierces the surface next to him. She looks at him severely, enjoining him to go back in water.

He nods and follows her without a look back .

@blueninjablade3 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @pencil-urchin @twilekchiss @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay

☆Tag list

#mermaid au #thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitthrawnuruodo #thrawn x f!reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x reader #fanfic #vibratingskull

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twistmusings · 1 year

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i'm finally requesting the last part of the 'leading up to a kiss' series, this time for diasomnia. i feel a little emotional, i adore this series so much! of course, all of your works are lovely, but those pieces were the ones who truly made me fall in love with your blog. thank you for writing this! 💗

It has been very fun to write! I technically think I may have skipped Pomefiore so that may be something I write down the line, but for now this is the finale! Im so glad that you were here to join in on this ride with me!

Leading up to a Kiss - Diasomnia

CW: Malleus waxes poetic.🤢 (Otherwise none)

Malleus Draconia

Malleus, being a prince, has rarely ever had reason to be afraid of anything. He's always been surrounded by people who would lay down their lives to protect him and make sure he can return home to rule Briar Valley safely, and he's never felt unsafe for even a moment with his attendants at his side.

And yet... he feels more vulnerable in this moment than he has in his entire life, looking at them. He knows-- has known that he is in love with them, and he finds himself underprepared for how raw it feels to know love like this. He's always assumed love was the way they described in story books-- unproblematic and easy-- and he's finding that he's woefully underprepared for it not to be that way. He knows that if they reject him, he would be hurt. Devastated, more than likely, and while he might heal with time, a resource he has in plenty, he can't help but to feel afraid of the possibility that they will turn him away now.

Now, when they're the person he trusts the most. When he believes he could trust them with something as delicate as his heart when he's been told to be careful so, so many times before.

He's struck by how beautiful they are as they stand there, smiling in the moonlight and looking skyward to see the stars. It seizes his chest, pulls it tight and steals his breath as he looks at them.

Maybe it's the fear that spurs him. After all, while he has more than enough time, he knows that if he is to dedicate his love to them that they are not so lucky. Knows the hurdles that will come with it, but in spite of that he can't help but to feel overwhelmed with how much he cares for them.

It's gentle-- feels to Malleus like he's moving in slow motion as he crosses to them. They look at him, and their smile goes affectionate. Malleus feels it in his throat, but he's already decided his course of action and now is no time to be paralyzed by nerves. He gently rests his hands at their elbows, giving them plenty of time to back away should they want to.

When their lips finally meet, it's gentle and nearly dream-like with how it makes Malleus' head swim. It's like it soothes something inside of him that screaming beast inside of him that screams at him that he's not someone they would want. And its incredibly warm. He finds he's never felt quite so at peace as he has in this moment. Perhaps they won't mind if he, selfishly, wants to linger just a little longer...

Silver

Silver is awoken by the feeling of sunlight on his face, and when he finally opens his eyes, he finds that he has to squint against the brightness while he tries to get his bearings on his surroundings. He lifts his hand to block the light enough to see, and when he does, he sees their face smiling down at him.

He groans, frowning.

"It happened again, didn't it?"

"It did. Hopefully we can find something to help soon, Silver. In the meantime I thought you could use a little company while you napped."

Silver blinks slowly, watching them closely. It had taken him this long to realize that his head had been propped up on their lap, and their fingers have been slowly stroking through his hair the entire time he's been trying to pull himself out of slumber. Despite his face being an impassive neutral, he can feel the way that his heart thrums in his chest, flustered. They were always so gentle with him, like he deserved to be looked after like this. Waking up and the first thing he saw being their face did something to him, it really did.

"I appreciate it." Silver says, measuredly. He adjusts so that he's sitting upright, though his gaze lingers on them for a moment longer. They don't get long to realize that he's debating with himself before he leans in, pressing a fleeting-but-firm kiss to their mouth. It's barely a moment, but there was no question that it happened. Apparently satisfied that he'd properly demonstrated his feelings, Silver gets to his feet and doesn't mention it again... at least not until he does it again later, when they have more privacy.

Sebek Zigvolt

He's been teaching them how to defend themself. They'd always shown a keen interest in it, and Sebek had received no small amount of teasing about how soft he was for the human who was so curious about what he did to train. Lilia often found it quite humorous how soft he would be toward them in comparison to Silver.

Well, naturally. Silver had learned how to fight from the best of the best-- Master Lilia himself-- he couldn't expect the human to know how to handle that from go. Besides, weren't most humans pretty frail anyway? There would be no sense in going all out and injuring them...

And then they threw him for a loop. He finds himself thinking, halfway between the air and ground, that this is not what they had practiced at all! Instead they'd gotten a grip on him about his waist and had leveraged his center of gravity to throw him. He's... impressed.

He lands hard on his back, knocking all of the wind out of him with a punched-out sound, and he stares skyward dazedly. How had they done that? They enter his vision upside down-- standing over him and smiling at him proudly.

"Did you like that, Sebek? I asked Lilia for some ways I could keep you on your toes!"

He blinks slowly, though they keep chatting at him about how Lilia had taught them the best way to get the advantage in hand-to-hand combat. He can't quite get himself to fully listen-- not with the sound of his blood rushing in his ears and the way that his heart is thudding in his chest. His face feels hot and if he could only get his wits about him he would probably have immediately assumed that he was dying, but--

"Sebek?"

This isn't... This isn't him dying is it? Oh shit. Sebek's brain is at war with his body because this is a human! He always questions his own mothers tastes. What kind of fool is he to be feeling like this toward a human?!

Regardless of whatever his mind is saying, Sebek's body is already moving on instinct. They kneel a little further down to check on him, and he finds his brain goes entirely silence when he meets their lips rather awkwardly at this angle.

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia watches them play, arms crossed and smiling from where he stands in the aperture that opens into the kitchen. Malleus is smiling, and Silver and Sebek are arguing while they are smiling wickedly, wads of play-money grasped in their hands. They were surprisingly adept at getting the others in his little found family roped in to play.

It was so nice to see them all acting their age. They rarely got to, and Lilia loved nothing more than seeing them enjoying themselves. They had so much ahead of them that they should enjoy the relaxation while they can.

"I'm going to get more snacks. I had better come back in to find you both alive an well, you hear?" They laugh as they stand.

"He forced me to sell Small World lane!" Sebek barks, and Silver snickers next to him, immediately launching the two of them into another argument. It's sweet, really, watching them playing together the way they did as children.

They are walking towards him, and they smile at him, pausing as they hold their cup.

"Do you want to play too? We're going to have another round after this." They tip their head and smile at him impishly. "Or are you going to chicken out again?"

Lilia's eyes glitter, pleased.

"You're few hundred years too young to compete with me, friend."

"Is that so? What's the matter, you afraid I'll get a leg up on you? Or are you just scared to show me what you're made of."

Their banter is always like this, fun and engaging. And just a bit flirty. Lilia plays dumb to it most of the time, and he always finds himself so thoroughly charmed that they ramp it up because they think he doesn't realize.

"Just say the word and I'll be happy to give you a proper demonstration." Lilia's eyes hood and he laughs, and their smirk only grows.

"Is that so? I dare you."

Lilia has never been one to back down from a bet. Perhaps it's a flaw of his, but he has no plans to make a change now. Instead, he antes up and steps forward into their space with a confidence that people rarely expect from his sweet face.

He meets their lips heatedly, one hand finding the side of their neck and the other helping to balance himself against their shoulder. He tips his head, finding the way that their mouths slot together comfortably. He's far from shy, dragging the sharp points of his teeth across their lower lips and teasing the tingling skin with the tip of his tongue. They seem dazed when he pulls back, and he can't help but to grin cockily. After all, that had only been a preview of his full potential.

"You are so lucky that Silver and Sebek are arguing. Otherwise I'm pretty sure Silver would have just screamed." They manage to spit out in spite of their flusteredness. It makes Lilia laugh with his whole chest.

Oh yes. This little challenge he has posed is going to be incredibly fun.

#answered;;#twisted wonderland #twst #malleus draconia #silver #silver twst #sebek zigvolt #lilia vanrouge #sfw;;#fluff #flirting

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x-fantasy-is-my-reality-x · 7 months

Text

Mayhem

"Genos..."

"Yes Sen-" A piece of soap came soaring in a wide arc to smack the young cyborg full on the face, stunning him into silence for a second. It fell into his hand, now imprinted with the vague definition of his features as a scream ran out from inside the locker room.

He frowned upon closer inspection; was that a bite mark embedded deep on the surface of the disfigured soap?

"Genos. Look," Saitama pointed calmly behind him in the doorway, his oval face boasting the same unreadable expression as always, a complete contrast to the chaos unfolding before them.

God was dead, and so were any of their remaining brain cells.

They, as in Metal Bat and Garou, were in the process of bashing each other's brains out in front of the hot tub with nothing but small towels wrapped around their waists, while a scantily clad Mumen Rider tried unsuccessfully to hold them apart. Bang and Atomic Samurai sat impassively in the tub behind them, occasionally commenting on their moves and acting as if nothing was wrong with two extremely buff and hot-headed boys trying their damn hardest to throttle each other. And was a baseball bat even allowed inside a locker room?

"Sensei, should we do something?" Genos asked with a glance at the bald hero.

"Nah, let's just find a place to sit before they burn down the building."

And part of him almost wished they did when Puri Puri Prisoner suddenly strutted in front of them buck-ass nude, heading with questionable intentions straight for Zombieman who was just trying to wash his hair on the bench.

"Hey! Cut it out you idiots! No one wants to deal with you two so just get out!" Another familiar voice rang out above all the noise as Amai Mask stomped over to the teenage brawlers, who were now completely naked and bloody. Neither pair seemed to realize that their towels had long been discarded, and Metal Bat was bleeding heavily from the face while Garou sported a few dark-colored bruises. Metal Bat swung once Amai Mask was within range, spitting out a few colorful curses that would put any sailor to shame as he missed by a hair.

The battle escalated, now a three-way fight as Mumen Rider lay passed out a few feet away, caught in the earlier crossfire. The poor guy would need new glasses once again.

"Here should be a good spot," Saitama said, pointing at a few unoccupied benches further away. It wasn't until a solid ten minutes that he sensed something was off, as if someone was watching him. Turning to the left, he was met with the blank gaze of a man in a furry white suit perched on top of the tiled wall, Watchdog Man.

How long has this guy been watching me?

He gazed back but Watchdog Man refused to look away. Maybe he was in an odd coma or something.

Okay...

"Sensei what's wrong?" Genos asked, as if sensing his discomfort.

"It's nothing I-" He was interrupted by a war cry as a ninja star suddenly lodged itself in the wall in front of him.

"Saitama! I've tracked you all the way here, now come fight me!" Sonic howled, not even waiting for a reply as he leapt towards him fully clothed from the entrance.

At least this one has clothes on, Saitama sighed.

"I'll take care of this Sensei!" Genos zoomed past him, incinerator glowing orange.

"No wait Genos! Don't use your cannons-"

BOOM!

The outer layer of the wall on the opposite side crumbled, leaving charred concrete behind as Sonic bounced around the open area.

"Ah, too late. Well, hopefully he has enough to pay for the repairs."

"Ah shit! You'll pay for that!" Flashy Flash roared as Sonic and Genos barreled into him and knocked him into a bucket of soapy water.

"Wait Flashy Flash!" Child Emperor pleaded, immediately chasing after them with the help of mechanical spider legs that sprouted from his backpack. The bathhouse really needed to upgrade their security. The three of them were now a dizzy blur dancing around the locker room.

Zombieman was sent flying into the wall as they rammed into him blindly, the back of his head hitting the wall with a sickening crack.

"Sorry!"

"Oh my God you killed him!" Puri Puri Prisoner sobbed in anguish, sprinting after him in all his naked glory.

Truth be told, to Zombieman the brief respite that death offered was far better than the awkward conversation he had been having with the ex-convict after the shittiest pick-up line he had ever heard in his entire immortal life.

"Have you ever been arrested?" Puri Puri Prisoner purred, fluttering his eyelashes at the pale man.

Zombieman furrowed his brows, replying with a very confused and hesitant "No?"

"Why do you ask?" He continued, nearly shuddering at the way the tall hero was eyeing his exposed chest.

"Because it must be illegal to look that good," Puri Puri Prisoner finished, and Zombieman could swear that the world was out to get him.

"Uh thanks," he muttered awkwardly. Never in his life would he have thought he would have be hit on by a criminal hero in the middle of a locker room full of out-of-control men acting like it was the goddamn apocalypse.

Yeah, death sounded good right about now. He would take every precious second enjoying the darkness before he healed and was dragged back into that living nightmare. Perhaps it was time to invest in some therapy.

"Garou, my boy, did you forget every technique I taught you? You're holding your hand wrong. You need to strike with your palm at an angle," Bang corrected as Metal Bat dodged his attack.

"Shut up old man! I wasn't trying to use your stupid technique anyways!" Garou snarled, springing forward again.

"Hey whose side are ya on anyways?"

"Sorry Metal Bat, old men like myself just can't help it," Bang grinned sheepishly.

"You dare turn your back on me?" Amai Mask punched him in the ribs with his momentary distraction, only enraging the seventeen-year-old more.

"I'll rip yer fucking head off you prick!"

"I don't think I ever want to come here again," Saitama said calmly as he watched a fire break out in the wet bathhouse.

A ninja star exploded behind him as Puri Puri Prisoner strutted past his vision.

#one punch man #saitama #genos one punch man #crack #humor #garou #zombieman #opm #opm fanfiction #flashy flash #bang opm #puri puri prisoner #child emperor #mumen rider #metal bat opm #watchdog man #atomic samurai

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imtryingmybeskar · 1 year

Text

Come Home Chapter Twelve

Joel Miller x F! Reader

Word count: 5755

Fluff, fluff and more fluff. With a little angst on the side. We finally get a small insight into what has been tormenting reader, along with Ellie behaving very strangely. And of course, it's the morning after the night before...

Spoiler for what Joel does for Ellie for her sixteenth birthday (as shown in TLOU 2). Its my favourite scene of either game and I can't wait to see Pedro and Bella bring it to life!

Come Home

Chapter Twelve - Dull The Pain

Music pounds so hard you can feel the vibrations in your chest. The neon-painted corridor you’re standing in is so tiny that condensation is running down the walls from the bodies packed tight together. There’s a queue. Why is there always a goddamn queue? You’d think by this point they’d design these places with twice as many stalls as urinals. You shuffle, tensing the muscles in your leg to distract from your bladder and then stand on tip toe, trying to see over the heads of the people ahead of you.

People…no, not people. Not anymore. No laughing. No chattering. No hopes or dreams. Just swaying, drunk on the chemicals of infection that the fungus is pushing. You walk among them and they do not attack, their skulls with their fungal-infested sockets merely turn to look at you impassively as you go, as if you're as dead as they are. You have to get out. But there is only one way through, one chance at salvation. The black doorway looms large. The door to the bathroom.

But then...it isn't. It's a different door. One that you keep your back to every second of every day. You try to stop your feet from moving forward but it's as if the fungus really is driving your motor functions and you have no control anymore. The music is gone, relegated to a time long dead, but your heart still jars with its pulse. The walls are blank now, a mysterious slate grey at the edges of the halo of your torchlight. You are alone, no infected to watch your progression and you feel a gaping loss for the poor company they provided.

The focused beam reflects off the metal bars of a medical cart on wheels, the grid reflection cast wide upon the wall behind it. Nothing of value remains inside, just scattered dusty records of patients who were lucky enough to live in a world where people cared enough to write down what ailed them.

Shattered windows with twinkling broken shards of glass teeth line one wall and inside...you can't bring yourself to look. The mural that your light sweeps against tells all. Smiling rabbits and squirrels and raccoons dance eternally as giant, gleeful toadstools oversee everything. The cots lie in haphazard rows under their collective gaze.

But worse, far worse awaits and some desperate part of you thinks that maybe if you don't put your gas mask on this time that the outcome will change. That the place, the portal you can now see at the end of the corridor will open out into sunny pastures and true peace. Your fingers betray you, slipping the constriction into place to protect your body even as your soul is screaming.

And in the black doorway at the end of the corridor, the too-large figure begins to emerge…

“Hey!”

You sit up, panting and sweating and breathing so hard you think you’re going to pass out.

“Hey.” The voice is gentler this time and you realise a big hand is resting on your arm, squeezing it slightly, leading you back to reality. Squinting against the morning light that spills around the blinds you follow the path of the hand, up an arm to see Joel sitting beside you with a look of concern on his face.

“You’re okay. Just a dream.”

“Yeah. Yeah…a dream,” you gasp. He sits in silence with you while your breathing returns to normal, then silently hands you a cup of coffee which you take with a wan smile.

“A man of your word I see, Miller. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He picks up his own cup from where it rests on your bedside table and warms his hands around it. “Thought I’d let you sleep in. Maybe that was a mistake.”

“Nah, I appreciate it,” you say and you suddenly realise how husky your voice sounds from both the sleep and the aftereffects of the drink. You clear your throat. “It was just a bathroom dream.”

“Just?”

“There may have been infected also queuing for the bathroom.”

“Ah,” he nods sagely. “A classic.”

You huff a laugh and pull down a sip of the bitter, hot, steaming coffee.

“You okay?” The soft concern in his voice startles you and you blink up at him stupidly, head still feeling a little like cotton wool.

“Yeah…yeah I’m fine. There’s just…a recurring dream I also have which was kind of blending in to the bathroom dream. You woke me up before the best part of that for which I’m very grateful.”

He frowns and nods and the simple gestures tell you he knows exactly what you’re talking about.

“Guessin’ you don’t wanna talk about it.”

You shrug and open your mouth to say “Not really,” but what comes out instead is “I didn’t used to be like this.”

“None of us did.”

Your own desire to talk takes you by surprise and you don't know if its because you're still half asleep or because you know Joel will understand but you take a deep breath before plunging ahead.

“No I mean, of course the outbreak changed me. But even after that I didn’t used to be like this. I lost someone. He travelled with me to keep me safe on some stupid fucking goddamn mission I cooked up and…I lost him.” You draw your knees up to your chest and hold your coffee cup on top of your knee cap.

“And the worst part is that its not even what happened to him that gives me these fucking nightmares. I carried on. I went alone to do what I thought I had to do and-“ You break off and shake your head, then look up at Joel with a bitter smile.

“Doesn’t matter,” you say. “This is just the post-alcohol depression talking.” Another swig of scalding coffee helps to stabilise you. Sharing was one thing. Re-living was quite another.

Joel bites his lip as he stares into the black depths of his own coffee.

“I lost someone that way too.” His voice is so quiet you’re not even sure you heard him correctly. “When I first met Ellie. There were three of us at first and…she got bit in the process of protectin’ her.”

His jaw clenches in angry thought and you know that he too can’t forgive himself for his mistakes. For all of it. For any of it. Regardless of if it was his fault, it was his fault. So you don’t try to sympathise, don’t spout any platitudes. Instead you wordlessly slide your hand over his and squeeze it hard. His dark eyes flick to yours and bore into your skull and at that moment you know that you were wrong. He’s not a closed book, not at all. He walks with the weight of what this world has made of him every single moment. He carries it, clutches it to him like something precious because he doesn’t believe he deserves redemption, much less that anyone could redeem him. Something shifts in the air between you. An understanding settles like blossom on river rapids.

“But then there’s Ellie,” you whisper, and the trembling breath he releases tells you all you need to know.

“Then there’s Ellie,” he agrees, and you finish your coffees in comfortable silence, hanging on to one another’s hands for life itself.

After a shower and fresh clothes you feel much better, though your head is a little painful and the sun glaring off the snow outside is much too bright for your liking. Following a smell that makes your stomach rumble, you head downstairs to find Joel cooking.

“Eggs? I didn’t have any eggs.”

“I do. Or did,” he replies. “You look like you need ‘em.”

“Thanks,” you say in a sarcastic tone, though you genuinely are grateful for both the food and the thought. “I’ll have to make you guys dinner soon.”

“You don’t have to,” he corrects you. “This ain’t a transaction.”

“No, but…I want to,” you shrug. “I like having you and Ellie here.”

He gives that coy little smile again as he focuses his efforts on the pan and you feel your chest swell with affection. How can someone so rough around the edges be so…well…so damn cute?

“Take over will ya?” he asks. “I just gotta go to the bathroom.”

He departs and you resume pushing what will be scrambled egg around the pan. When you had first met Joel you would never have thought that you could be alike. He exuded danger and coiled menace, and you had seen that come to the fore when faced with the situation in the store. But every time you had opened up to him, he had reciprocated. Little by little, bit by bit, he was showing you other facets of himself and you found yourself more eager for that than you would necessarily like. He had trauma, everyone did. But his and yours seemed to stem from a similar place, at least in part. He understood the need to push away those things that you simply couldn’t deal with and he made no judgements. He understood that in order to survive you sometimes had to cut pieces away from the person that you had been and solder those wounds shut. He was so kind – to you and Ellie at least - but you didn’t doubt for a moment that he had been truthful when he said he was very different ten years ago. You wonder just what he and Ellie had gone through to bring about such a change.

A knock at the door jolts you from your reverie and you turn the eggs off and move the pan before going to answer it.

“Hey,” Ellie says, a nervous energy permeating her as she absent mindedly rubs her right arm. “Have you seen Joel? I don’t think he came home last night.”

“Oh, yeah,” you say, stepping back and gesturing for her to come in. “He’s-“

“Have you put a bookcase up against that door?” Joel’s voice rings out as the stomp of his boots comes down the stairs. “I mean that’s one way to deal with it I guess-oh! Hey, Ellie.”

Ellie’s eyes are wider than you’ve ever seen them, darting between you and Joel and a sly smirk begins to creep over her face.

“Before you say anything, no,” you say firmly.

“No what?” she asks innocently.

“You know what. No.”

“Hey, it’s none of my business what fogeys get up to when they’re alone!”

“Jesus Christ, Ellie,” Joel huffs as he joins you at the foot of the stairs, and you have your own moment of sneaking amusement at the fact that he looks quite flustered as he shakes his head in disapproval at her.

“Yes Joel, I put a bookcase against that door. Out of sight, out of mind, right?” you say, not taking your eyes off Ellie. “As for what we got up to-“

“Oh fuck! I don’t wanna know!” Ellie exclaims, suddenly horrified.

“-it involved very clothed sleeping. No touching, no kissing, no se-“

Ellie stuffs her fingers into her ears and walks off humming loudly before exclaiming “Can I have some of these eggs?!” as soon as she walks into the kitchen.

Joel and you exchange an amused glance and you notice a creeping redness up his neck before he goes off to portion what he has made on to plates.

What you had told her wasn’t strictly true. You had awoken sometime in the night to find yourself pressed in tight against Joel’s back, your arm thrown loosely around his hip and your cheek against the soft plaid of his shirt. He smelled even better this close – warm sleep musk mixed with an indefinable scent of comfort that was purely him and you had gently removed your arm and turned over before you got too enamoured of it.

He had other ideas, giving a deep, sleepy groan that shot straight to your core and then flipping over so he was on his side with his chest now pressed against your back and his arm thrown around your waist, his movements clumsy in his semi-conscious state. You had held yourself stiffly and hardly dared to breathe, wondering if it was intentional, if he wanted more. The gentle snores that came almost immediately told you no, and you relaxed back into his embrace, smiling drowsily as you fell back to sleep yourself. The next time you had awoken it had been to his hand on your arm and the relief that you wouldn’t have to relive yet another nightmare. You have no idea if he knew what had occurred, and you weren’t about to bring it up.

The morning passes in a haze of pleasant domesticity. While Joel goes back to his house to shower and change, you take Ellie into town to do some shopping and pick up eggs for both you and Joel, as well as some fruit, vegetables, rice and chicken. Next stop is the armoury. The bows and arrows that you had retrieved from the town had made you realise that it had been a while since you had practiced with that particular weapon, and you wanted to make sure your skills were up to par for the next planned sweep by a scouting party. Ellie sets up the targets in the yard outside, and you spend an hour being completely outmatched by her abilities, though you do get better under her tutelage as time goes on.

As you make your way back towards your respective houses, you get the impression she wants to talk to you. She’s dragging her feet a little through the stony slush on the ground, pensively looking down at them. You allow her time, and eventually your patience wins.

“So…you and Joel huh?” she says. Her voice is more timid than you’ve heard in a while, as though she’s scared of your answer.

“No," you laugh. "I meant what I said. Nothing happened between us. You know sometimes I’ve had…difficulties adjusting to life here. He helped me through one of them last night. Not like that,” you hasten to add, feeling heat rising in your face. “He just…he was kind to me.”

She nods, her face a little less anxious and a little more Ellie, a small smile creeping over her lips. “But at the dance…you guys were kinda close.”

“I was pretty drunk,” you admit. “He looked after me, made sure I didn’t make too much of an ass of myself and then helped me home. That’s all.”

“Do you like him?”

The direct nature of the question catches you off guard and you splutter a little in your reply. “Like him? I’m too old for that high school shit, Ellie.”

“I’m not hearing a ‘no’,” she shoots back in an irritating sing-song voice.

You sigh and try to collect your thoughts. “Of course I like him. He’s a good man. And he’s already helped me through a lot. So have you, come to that.”

“You know what I mean,” she presses.

“Ellie, I can’t think about shit like that,” you say, bluntly. “Much as I’d like to, it’s just not possible. I let myself get close to people and then they die. Chris…Jacob…A-Alex-“ The litany stops and so do you, squeezing your eyes tight against the memories that threaten to invade. You take a deep breath and open your eyes to look at the girl ahead of you. “It’s too hard.”

“And what if they don’t? Die I mean.”

You frown and try to make your next words as gentle as possible. “But everyone does. It’s just a matter of when.” Before she can formulate a reply, you carry on, trying to bring a levity back to the conversation as you continue walking. “I’m not taking your old man away from you, don’t worry.”

“Not what I’m worried about.” The reply is waspish and it takes you by surprise.

“Well then, what’s this all about?”

“Never mind. Just forget it.”

“Hey.” You stop again and gently touch her shoulder. “If there’s something bothering you and you don’t want to go to Joel you can talk to me. You know that.”

“Sure,” she says, nodding, but there is nothing else forthcoming and you walk the remainder of the journey in silence, wondering if you’ve somehow managed to already fuck up your friendship with her.

The afternoon is spent beginning to tackle the garage that came with the house. There’s not too much in there for which you’re grateful – some standard junk that you sort by usefulness. A pile for you, a pile to donate to the supplies in Jackson and stuff that you think should probably be thrown away. Then you clear the cobwebs and dust and sweep up as much as you can. The light is beginning to fade as you stand tall and stretch out your back. Maybe tonight you should use your bath as intended, though you’re not sure of the wisdom of using that much hot water in one go. Deciding to shower instead you open up the garage door to leave, but before you can you hear a flurry of raised voices from next door.

“Jesus, Joel. Can’t you just fucking leave it alone?”

“No, I can’t. Not when you’re bein’ pissy with me for no goddamn reason!”

You don’t want to hear this. You don’t want to intrude on anything so personal and you definitely don’t want to think about the possibility that you’re the reason for Ellie’s bad mood that she’s now taking out on Joel. As you exit the garage as quickly and quietly as you can you hear Joel’s voice again.

“Ellie? Where are you goin’? Ellie!” Then the distinct sound of Joel’s side gate slamming hard and his quiet curse of “Goddamnit!”

You creep up your back steps and your hand is on the door handle and about to turn it when –

“Uh. Hey.”

You close your eyes against the thought of the conversation that will follow, but turn and speak to Joel who is standing in his yard looking both angry and a little ashamed.

“Hey.”

“So…guessin’ you heard all that.”

“I wasn’t trying to, I swear,” you protest. “I was just finishing clearing out some of my garage and-"

He’s shaking his head. “Naw. S’ok. We musta been pretty loud. Not used to havin’ neighbours still I guess.” He rubs his hand on the back of his neck in an embarrassed sort of way.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine. I just…I don’t get that kid sometimes.”

You lean against the wooden railings of your porch and take hold of the top of it, feeling the paint crumble a little under your hands.

“But you do remember what it was like to be fifteen?”

He scoffs and folds his arms. “I guess.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine. She just needs some time to work out whatever’s bothering her.” Joel nods, but his jaw is still set angrily and his eyes are faraway as he stares toward the place that she stormed away.

“I uh…” You grip the railing more firmly, anxiety swirling in your stomach at your imminent confession. “I think it might be my fault.”

Joel looks taken aback. “What, you guys have a fight or somethin’?”

“No…yes? I don’t know really.”

“Look, why don’t you come over? I don’t really wanna discuss this outside in the dark when I’m not wearin’ a coat.”

“Understandable. I’ll be right there.”

You remember to grab the eggs you had got for him before crossing to his side of the fence and knocking on his front door.

“Come on in,” he calls from inside.

You weren’t entirely sure what you had been expecting in Joel’s house, but the first impression that hits you is that this is a home. The hallway lies in front of you and opens up to his living room, along one entire wall of which is a huge, beautiful bookshelf, packed with ornaments, framed pictures, video cassettes, DVDs, books and magazines. His furniture actually matches – a brushed suede settee in beige with a reclining chair off to one side and a window seat also upholstered in the same, all with plump, welcoming cushions on them. He was correct in saying that it is more modern than your house, but not by much. It does, however, exude a charming middle class quality that is distinctly lacking in yours.

You don’t get a chance to be nosier than that before he’s calling you, and you follow the sound of his voice into the delicious warmth of his kitchen, which is fitted in shades of warm white wood, a large central unit in the middle of it all against which he is leaning, his back toward it and arms outstretched behind.

“Drink?” he offers.

“Tea?” you ask hopefully, and he nods and begins to prepare it.

“So what happened?”

What did happen? You don’t really have a good answer for him, so you start from the beginning.

“We did some shopping – here’s your eggs by the way – and then we practiced some archery. Well, I practiced, she told me where I was going wrong. And then on the way home she seemed to have something on her mind and when I tried to talk to her about it she just shut down.”

“Any idea what it was about?” his voice is full of concern and you realise you can’t keep the details from him, no matter how much it might embarrass you.

“Well she…she asked about us.” He raises a questioning eyebrow at you and you plunge ahead. “ ‘You and Joel huh?’ were her exact words. I told her again that nothing like that had happened last night. And then she asked-well she asked if I liked you. I said of course I did, you’ve been nothing but kind and generous to me. Both of you. But she meant…well, you know. And when I said that I can’t think of that kind of stuff because…well because of the past, she just shut down.”

“Hmm,” Joel says, his back to you as he grabs two cups and places them on the counter. “Anythin’ else?”

“I told her...I told her everyone dies,” you blurt out. “And that’s why I can’t get close to anyone. I thought…I thought that being who she is and living the life she has that she would understand that. But maybe…she’s so young. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so blunt about it. And I said-“ You take a deep breath before continuing. “I said that I wasn’t going to be taking you away from her and she said she wasn’t worried about that and that’s when she stopped talking completely. I’m sorry if I overstepped. Or if I was insensitive.”

He continues to make the tea in silence, his back to you and your anxiety moves even harder through your veins.

“Joel? Did I…did I fuck up?”

He sighs before turning to you and handing you a steaming cup that smells wonderfully of apple and winter spices.

“No, I don’t think you did. Comin’ to Jackson has been an adjustment. Well, you know yourself…Sometimes she confuses the hell outta me and I just wonder if I’m too old to be raisin’ a teenager. Especially now. What the fuck do I know about what she’s goin’ through?”

“Well,” you say slowly, picking your words carefully so as not to betray any of Ellie’s confidences. “I never raised a teenager. Or any kids for that matter.” You stop, take a breath, get a firm grip on yourself. “But you know some of what she’s been through because you lived it too. Its hard…now you’re safe. The stuff you couldn’t allow yourself to feel, it starts to come through anyway no matter how much you might not want it to. And so much stuff is so much more important at her age. Being liked by her peers. Finding out who she is. That’s all still there but we got to do it in high school. I’m not saying high school was great, but there were things you took for granted y’know. There were lots of people to bounce off and figure shit out. She has to find her own way. I guess…all you can do is always be there for her.”

Joel nods slowly, seeming to absorb your words. “I will,” is all he says firmly before taking a sip of tea.

You relocate to the living room, where you carefully put your steaming cup on a coaster on the table while Joel lights the gas fire that sits under an ornamental mantelpiece.

“Ooooh fancy,” you tease.

“I actually prefer yours,” he says, collapsing onto the soft cushions with a slight groan on the other side of the couch from you. “Nothin, like an open fire.”

“Your house is beautiful,” you say, looking around and taking it in again. “Guess this is what you get when your sister-in-law runs the joint.”

He grins softly. “Ellie chose it.” His face suddenly clouds. “You think I should go after her? I’m kinda worried. She has a history of…runnin’ off.”

“If you want to,” you reply gently. “And I’ll help if you want that too. But if you find her before she wants to be found, would it make things worse? I mean…you don’t think she’s gone out out, do you?”

Both of you look outside simultaneously, your eyes drawn to the darkness beyond the windows by the horrific notion.

“I’m goin’ to the stables,” Joel says as he puts his own tea on the table and stands, the firmness of his voice still not enough to quell the faint note of panic you can hear underneath.

“I’ll go look around town,” you say, standing too and grabbing your coat from where it lay on the back of the couch.

Before either of you get any further, you hear a scuffling on the porch and then the sound of the door opening. Joel moves quickly into the hall and his relieved sigh of “Ellie,” is enough to make your stomach untwist itself. Faint murmuring reaches your ears and you debate sneaking out of the back door to give them the time they need together. You don’t get a chance to make a move before Ellie is coming around the corner, looking at the floor slightly shamefaced and twisting her fingers together.

“Hey,” you greet her. “I was just gonna go. Sorry to interrupt-“

“No, no,” she says, “Its…its cool. Stay.” Joel nods his agreement behind her and you take your coat off again. A slightly awkward silence falls between the three of you before Ellie ventures, “So…you guys wanna play cards?”

The peace offering is taken up and the evening ends up as so many of them have recently, with stupid jokes and playful teasing and smiles all around. After Ellie beats you and Joel for the third time in a row, the crowing becomes almost unbearable and to make it stop you offer her something you know she won’t be able to refuse.

“Hey, Ellie?”

She gives a tiny delicate cough. “I think you know that’s not my name right now,” she says somehow managing to sound both prim and full of glee.

“Fine! Supreme Queen of Go Fish and Jackson in general-“

“Yes, peasant loser? What can your Queen do for you?”

“You want your Christmas present a little early?”

All pretence drops from her as she sits forward eagerly. “You got me a present?”

“Sure did. And Joel said he’d be more than willing to help you use them.”

Ellie says “Them?” as Joel says “What now?” and you laugh as you rush out of the house to collect the skates. You place them into one of the many boxes that you had emptied out of the garage this afternoon and inwardly curse your impulsivity and bemoan the fact that you hadn’t made it look nicer for her before heading back to Joel’s.

“Thank you,” she breathes as you hand her the box, her eyes bright with excitement. When she opens them, her face falls just for a second. “Oh! Thank you. But I-uh-I don’t know how to skate.”

“Well I thought I could teach you,” you smile. “Or Joel can. He’s not half bad when he’s not falling on his ass.”

Joel covers his eyes with his hand as Ellie giggles. “I ask you to keep one goddamn secret,” he jokes.

“Yeah, I’d like to learn,” Ellie says happily. “Is this where you went earlier in the week when you were “scouting”?”

“I got these from when we actually did go on patrol through that town. But earlier in the week we were scouting, just not for supplies. There’s a good lake not far from here. It’s safe, the ice is thick enough. Tested and approved by Joel’s ass and my knees.”

“One time! I fell one time!” Joel protests. “Pretty good considerin’ I haven’t skated in almost thirty years!”

“This is so cool! Thanks,” Ellie smiles happily. She stands, clutching the box to her chest. “Well, I’m gonna leave as the undefeated Queen and turn in.”

“Chicken,” teases Joel.

“I am making a tactical retreat,” she replies haughtily. “G'night, fogies!”

Joel grins fondly after her as she departs. “Night, Ellie.”

You wait until you hear the door close softly behind her before asking what you want to.

“She okay?”

“She’s fine,” Joel reassures you. “Just needed some time. And while we’re still on the subject of gift givin’ I have a favour to ask you.”

“Sure, what do you need?”

“It’s Ellie’s sixteenth in April. Now I got an idea of what I wanna do for her, but I’m gonna need your help. I’m plannin’ to take her to a museum. Its a few days ride out."

“What museum?”

The Wyoming Museum of Science and History. She loves space, thought I’d take her to see the exhibits if there are any left. But it won’t be much of a birthday if we’re fightin’ off infected every step of the way. I need your help to check it out, clear a path to it. You up for it?”

“Damn straight,” you say with a smile. “I love a museum. And no one can tell me not to touch anything now!”

Joel relaxes back into the couch, a relieved smile on his face. “Thanks. I was gonna ask Tommy originally, but he’s got so much shit to do with the dam that I woulda felt bad takin’ him away from it.”

“Not a problem. Might be fun. Apart from the possible infected. When do we go?”

“Not for a while. Not till the weather gets a little better. We’d need to go partway anyway, sweep those areas once the snow clears and make sure it’s all okay.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You drain the remnants of your tea and then stand. “I better get going too. Otherwise she’s gonna think there really is something going on between us.”

“Before you do, just…hold on a sec, okay?”

Joel springs up from the couch and retrieves a small parcel wrapped in brown paper from one of the shelves on the bookcase. He hands it to you with a smile.

“Since you’ve decided we’re doin’ Christmas presents early.”

Your mouth falls open in shock. “Oh shit, Joel no. I didn’t get you anything. I mean, you’re more than welcome to pick through the stuff I found in the garage, but unless you REALLY like old copies of classic car magazines you might be shit outta luck.”

“Its okay. Honestly, sharin’ your coffee has been more than enough. Well go on. Open it.”

A rush of warmth and excitement trills through you. The presents you and Chris had managed to exchange each year had been tokens at best. This felt like...well it felt like-

You gasp as you unwrap the book to find a beautifully embossed book of John Keats poetry in your hands. Your eyes rove over the cover, not quite comprehending that you actually had a copy in your hands and more, that Joel had given you something so precious and meaningful.

“Ellie said he was your favourite.” His gravelly voice breaks into your shock and you manage to nod at him, your eyes suddenly watery.

“Thank you. So much. This is…this is incredible.” You skim through the pages, to find them barely touched by the ravages of time. Even the cover is only mildly battered. “Where did you even get this?”

“I might’ve been on a sweep with Tommy and we may have come across a bookstore. I got me some more Game of Thrones books too, don’t you worry.”

You laugh, but it sounds like half a sob and half a hiccup when you do.

“Thank you,” you whisper again, managing to tear your eyes away from the book to look at him instead.

“You’re welcome,” he says softly.

He walks you down the hall to the door and when he opens it, instead of stepping through immediately you move forward to hug him, your arms barely able to circle the breadth of his shoulders. You feel him tense at the contact, but before you can pull away and apologise you feel his arms come tentatively around your back, holding you a little closer. His beard is prickly against your upper cheek, his muscles hard under your hands, his scent once again filling your nose and before you allow yourself to get dragged too deeply into that undertow you pull back.

“Goodnight, Joel.”

“Goodnight,” he smiles softly, dimple winking in his cheek.

The short walk back to your house feels like you’re walking on air. The thoughtfulness and beauty of the gift is unparalleled, the emotions spiralling uncontrollably from you are all blissfully good. Tonight, the tub is just that and you barely even contemplate getting in before heading toward the soft welcome of your bed. You lie there for a moment, thinking about the warmth of Joel's hands on your back and the soft light in his eyes when he saw your joy at his gift. You turn over to hug the pillow that his head had laid on, wrapped in his comforting scent and smiling into the darkness.

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#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel tlou x you #joel tlou x reader #joel tlou x f!reader #joel tlou x female reader #joel tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou fanfic #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic

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blackjackkent · 3 months

Text

Despite my hopes, there doesn't seem to be any updated clues down in the basement where the murder took place, so we'll explore the rest of the temple, I guess, and see if we find anything useful.

Not a simple prospect, as there are a LOT of doors in this place.

However, coming around one of the corners, we find the infirmary, and lying on one of the beds:

Gasp. The victim himself!

The nurse hanging out next to him is, uh, impatient to say the least.

"What ails you? Marsh fever? Featherlung? Be quick, I've not got all day!"

I mean, ma'am, you were literally just standing there staring at Lorgan's corpse, but sorry for interrupting, I guess.

"I'm looking into Lorgan's death. I need to ask you some questions."

"What do you want to know?" she asks brusquely.

"Who do you think killed Father Lorgan?"

"I reckon Investigator Valeria is right. One of the refugees killed him. Cruelly too. They cut off his hand, sawed right through the bone. I found a paralytic poison on one of his wounds. Lorgan was alive while they took the hand, he just couldn't scream. It's sick. We give them everything, and all we get is nothing but a good man to bury."

Hector listens to all of this impassively, but inwardly his mind is working rapidly. The scene she describes is certainly gruesome - but there is no obvious link to the refugees. This is speculation, nothing more - and a speculation driven by fear and resentment.

He tries to ask her further questions, but she won't have any of it. However - he has another idea.

(I almost always forget to use this spell, so I'm excited to have finally remembered it for once at a key moment. :D )

"Shadowheart," he mutters. "Can you speak to this corpse? Ask what he saw before he died? If he was paralyzed and awake through the whole process - cruel as that is, he must have been able to see his attackers."

Shadowheart steps forward with a grim expression on her face, casting the spell in a low mutter while the others look on.

Narrator: The corpse regards you lifelessly.

"Who killed you?" Shadowheart asks in a steady voice resonant with the spell's power.

"Dwarf..." the corpse whispers hoarsely. "Dressed in red."

Hector shoots a rather smug look at the nurse, who is watching this with a shocked expression on h er face.

"Why did he kill you?" Shadowheart presses.

Narrator: The corpse remains silent. It does not know.

Shadowheart chews the inside of her cheek thoughtfully for a moment. "What were you doing when you died?"

"Hiding Brilgor..." the corpse groans. "From Fists."

Hector's eyebrows shoot up.

"Why were you hiding Brilgor?" Shadowheart asks.

"Must protect... innocents... Ilmater's will..."

One question left. "Where did you hide him?"

"Took him to tunnels... with the rest... fool... fool..."

The corpse sags as the power drains from it, lifeless once again on the bed.

Hector makes a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. "I don't know if that passes for proof around here, but it seems pretty clear to me," he mutters. "These tunnels, though. Perhaps there's more to be found, if we can locate them."

*sigh* Back downstairs again, for the third time.

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle

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mwolf0epsilon · 2 years

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Sponge "Why do you hate me?"

1. Why do you hate me?

Sponge knew they were intimidating, but to hear actual fear from the Shinies? It hits them quite hard.

Luckily they have Beau and their medic vode to help mend their broken heart just a little bit.

[THIS STORY IS NOW ON AO3]

---

"Why do you hate me?" The question is gasped out between uncontrollable sobs. It's jarring enough that it gives Sponge some pause, just as they are nearly threading the needle through maimed broken flesh.

It had been another difficult battle.

They all had been more difficult since losing Fives.

The ARC might have been infuriating, but he'd made an effort to lessen casualties to the best of his abilities.

Self-sacrificing prick that he was...

Every campaign that followed that fateful night on Coruscant was an endless nightmare of dead brothers, and greener and greener Shinies.

They were sending them out into the field too young these days.

Too eager to please. Too reckless. Too ambitious.

And Sponge was losing their patience with these di'kutla vode'ika more and more...

For what it's worth, they don't hate this poor sobbing child that they are trying to stitch back together. If they did, they wouldn't be trying to make this as painless and quick a process as they were.

And maybe they should deign to tell the poor kid as such, but Sponge has grown more and more cynical with age.

They simply regard the crying Shiny with impassive eyes.

Wait for them to still enough before pushing the needle through.

They've run out of painkillers on the third day. The screams will haunt them but they can't bring themselves to care right now.

Not when there's still a chance to save someone.

Once all casualties are disposed of and all the wounded are back on the mend, Sponge excuses themself and goes to wash up.

The base they're currently occupying isn't much and lacks vital supplies, but it has functioning plumbing. Most importantly it has hot water.

They turn on the water at a blistering temperature and use a rough stone they found out in the woods to rub their skin raw after coating themself with a generous amount of of soap.

They scrub vigorously until their very skin threatens to rip.

Just barely stop before they draw blood.

Try to get the blood and the fear of their vode off their skin.

They doubt their disposition will ever improve.

Even their precious trinket box has begun failing to make them smile.

Not like they have had reason to smile much as of recently anyway, with so many familiar faces gone and marching ahead.

Almost all the medics have lost the spark of life from their eyes.

They are all withering and miserable husks of clones.

Nothing more than glorified morticians preparing bodies for funerals that will never be.

Only one remains as strong as ever.

A sob breaks through their meticulously constructed barricade.

They should be used to being considered an unkind and frigid sort, but somehow the acknowledgement that they were seen as some kind of medbay boogeyman still hurt terribly.

The Shiny whose name they didn't even know would always know them as the quiet demagolka that watched them cry with cruel dead eyes.

They didn't hate their vode. They could never.

What they hated was this desolate existence they all lived.

Once Sponge finishes cleaning up, they stagger towards the cot they've claimed as their own. They are greeted by Beautiful who regards them with 6 compassionate eyes and loving kisses.

She can't fix their broken heart or take away the night terrors, but Beau can certainly ease them into a somewhat restful position.

One where their bones won't ache as much.

Not 10 minutes later, they lift their blanket up to allow their littlest brother into their bed.

The combined efforts of Beau and Twitch finally push away the day's horrors to the back of their mind.

Coric and Kix relinquishing their blankets to the three of them, and Pitch sitting nearby humming softly while seemingly engrossed by something on his datapad, help coax a weary sigh that had been trapped inside their chest.

They are... Not content but comforted for the moment.

Tomorrow someone else will break under the pressure.

Tomorrow Sponge will be there to pick them back up and help glue the broken pieces into their former shape.

Because they love their vode.

No matter how infuriating they could be.

#Eps Writes #Fanfic #Star Wars #the clone wars #clone ocs #clone medic sponge #clone medic twitch #clone medic pitch #clone medic coric #clone medic kix #beautiful the barghest #borrowing Twitch and Pitch for this one!

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casspurrjoybell-27 · 6 months

Text

Claimed by the Beast - Chapter 17a

*Warning Adult Content*

Rejection - Part 1

- Everett -

Everett knows Knox is a killer.

He's known it for a while now and only recently has he accepted it, so he isn't sure why he reacts the way he does after hearing Knox's victim screaming bloody murder from inside the back of the van.

It's as if Everett's been plucked from a twisted fairy-tale and thrown into a grisly thriller in the span of a few short hours.

The man screams again, this one sounding of pure rage and Everett stumbles backward feeling sick at the stomach.

His hands tremble and his brow furrows in confusion while he stares at Knox.

"Why is there a man locked inside your van, Knox?" Everett's voice is barely above a whisper but Knox hears him loud and clear.

He says nothing in response but his cruel eyes practically tell the entire story of his trip.

"Who is he? What are you going to do to him?"

The man screams again, louder and more hysterical, almost as if to answer the question himself.

Everett jumps when the man resorts to kicking at the doors of the van, a futile attempt at freeing himself.

Knox clenches his fists and mutters something under his breath before yanking open the doors and climbing inside.

The following happens in a millisecond, Knox cursing in a gravelly tone that borders on something demonic, then the sound of something cracking like a glow stick and finally... silence.

No more kicking.

No more screaming.

Knox exits the van and slams the doors shut.

One look into Everett's panicked eyes is all it takes for Knox to read his mind.

"I didn't kill him. Not yet."

"What did he do?"

"Just go back inside, Everett."

"Why are you going to kill him?"

"Damn it, Everett," Knox snaps, raising his voice.

Everett flinches in response, slowly taking a step back.

"Can you stop questioning me and fucking do as I ask for once? The less you know, the better. We've been over this a thousand fucking times."

Everett blinks, perplexed.

Who is this man yelling at him right now?

It isn't the Knox that he's become familiar with.

It can't be.

All warmth has been stripped from his voice, his body tight with tension and his stance the same as a wild bull getting ready to charge at its target.

Whatever Knox has done tonight, it evidently reopened something in him that not even Everett can tame.

Everett knows it.

Knox knows it too and it hurts like hell to see Everett staring at him with the same tormented expression he'd worn when they first met after Shaun's murder.

Funny how those were simpler times compared to now.

"Please go back inside," Knox implores.

"You've heard and seen enough tonight."

Everett doesn't move right away.

His body won't let him.

It's stuck at an impasse, stay and wrap itself around Knox, settling into the comfort and security he provides or should he run away from the violent beast and hide, hoping to never be found?

"Are you still with me, Everett?" Knox attempts to soften his voice and he takes a step forward.

Everett's body responds by taking two steps back.

Knox's expression drops in an instant, his chest tightening at the rejection.

"I... I'm not going to hurt you, kitten. I would never hurt you."

Knox is right about that.

The Fallen Angels don't hurt innocents and Everett hasn't done anything catastrophic enough to land on their shit list.

He's safe at the clubhouse.

The members would never lay a hand on him.

Knox would never hurt him.

Not intentionally, anyway.

Too bad Everett's brain is on overload right now.

It's processing a million things per second, preventing him from differentiating who's a friend and who's foe.

Knox stays in place, carefully reaching out a hand.

"Come to me."

"I'm sorry."

With tears streaming down his face, Everett turns around and runs away.

He doesn't stop running until he's back in Knox's bedroom.

He doesn't stop moving until he's made himself a new home in the vacant room beside Knox's.

He doesn't open his mouth to speak when he hears a gentle knocking go off at his door.

He internally curses for not locking it right away.

Josie opens the door and peeks inside.

"I saw you zoom past the kitchen like a pack of rabid dogs were chasing after you. Did something happen outside with Knox?"

"I forgot where I was for a second," Everett mumbles, staring down at the floor as he sits at the foot of the bed with his head down.

His hands are balled into fists, the shaking a fraction better than what it'd been before.

"I don't know when or how this happened but I got too comfortable being here."

Josie steps all the way inside.

"And that means...?"

"I forgot I was housed with a bunch of fucking murderers."

Everett looks up to meet her gaze, his tone sharp despite the cloud of fear hanging over him.

"Do you know there's a man trapped in the back of the van outside? Knox is going to kill him. While we were in here stuffing our faces with God-damn cookies, that man out there was, is, going to get slaughtered at any moment. How do you... Why the fuck are you bringing an innocent baby into this shit fest, Josie? You're just setting them up for failure and heartache."

"Everett..." Josie warns.

"Let's not go there."

"Make it make sense," Everett exclaims.

"I'm literally begging you."

"Everett, you are safe here," Josie shouts, effectively silencing him.

"So I need you to pull yourself together and snap out of whatever dark hole you've suddenly fallen in because no one here is out to get you. You are safe here. I am your friend."

She raises her hands in peace while walking toward Everett.

He doesn't move when she sits next to him on the bed.

"That man in the van is a Jackal and the amount of blood on his hands can't be ignored. He isn't innocent."

"I figured as much," Everett mutters.

"As harsh as this may sound, feeling sorry for that man, if you are, is nothing but a waste of your time," Josie says.

"I get that no one should play God but unfortunately, that guy got caught and he is going to pay for his sins tonight. Another piece of Knox's soul that he has to lose in exchange and he's doing it partly because he knows one less Jackal means one step closer to getting you back to where you've been itching to go."

"Home," Everett whispers, brokenly.

"That's right. And for the record, I ain't raising my kid in this janky ass clubhouse," Josie states matter-of-factly.

"Gavin and I have a house that we've been building on another piece of land not from here. I'd never ask him to leave The Fallen Angels, but I did make him promise to keep our kid as his number one priority at all times."

"And you truly believe that he will?" Everett asks.

"One thing to remember when it comes to this lifestyle, a biker always keeps his promises," Josie says.

Knox has promised Everett a lot over the course of them being together.

So what happens if Everett wants to go back to being acquaintances rather than friends-with-fucked-up-benefits?

Will Knox continue to keep his word and protect Everett until this bloody war is over?

How easy will it be for the man to shut his feelings off and play pretend like they haven't already emotionally bonded?

Everett isn't that great of an actor.

Time will tell if Knox is or not.

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mrslilyrogers · 2 years

Text

All I have to do is Dream Part 4

Pairing: Steve x Reader, Telepath! Reader (X-men reader)

Summary: It’s been five years since the snap. You and Steve are stuck at an impasse. You want a family, he doesn’t. He says he’s moved on but has he really? With your doubts growing, you consider risking his trust and use your powers on him to get your answers once and for all.

Author’s notes: I know, I know, I’m sorry it took so long. I fully scrapped the other draft I wrote (might edit that as a one shot down the road). Wanted to make this a bit more angsty. Enjoy!

Warning/s: Angst, Anxiety

Masterlist

You allowed yourself to count to 60 in the parking lot, your head resting on the wheel, working on keeping your breaths even. But when 60 seconds turned into three minutes and you still received no phone calls, you moved the car into drive.

Sorry, Steve but how the hell could you expect me to stay still?

Speeding down a lonely highway, everything was a blur. Adrenaline spurred you on until in the middle of nowhere, a man popped out of thin air in front of you. You let out a little squeak, heart beating rapidly in your chest when you suddenly hit the brakes, your car skidding sideways into a halt. Clutching your hands close to you, you sighed in relief.

He was alive, you were alive. What the hell was that?!

He ran out of your way, not even bothering to get mad at you for the near crash. You watched as more people appeared and scrambled about, people who weren’t even there a second ago. Getting out of your car, your jaw dropped. They were everywhere. Panic and hysteria filled the air.

They’ve actually done it.

Ignoring all the commotion, you reached inside your car for your phone. You had to call Steve and make sure he was alright. Cursing to yourself, your hands shook. Where the hell had you left it? A car honked loudly in the distance, the screeching sound of wheels reverberating on the asphalt, someone’s blood-curdling scream piercing through your panicked haze before you even had the time to lift your head from your position by the driver’s seat. Suddenly, the world stopped. You felt it before you saw it, the air rushing out of you as you lifted off from the impact, teeth jarring when you hit the stone-cold ground. Your vision blurred, you watched as the smoke wafted from the blue pick-up truck that crashed into your car, its hood already dented and curled towards yours. The driver clutched his arm while he rushed to you, screaming something you couldn’t understand. Confused, you reached for the warmth trickling down your forehead, pain shooting instantly from your outstretched arm. A helpless whimper fell out of you. You were suddenly tired, your eyelids weighing heavily while hands prodded at your sides. You could hear their frantic voices but you couldn’t seem to care less. Steve. Where the hell was Steve? His name was the last thing you whispered as you drifted off into the darkness. ----

Nat was gone.

Steve’s finger hovered above the call button for your name but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to do it. Just like that, Nat was gone. The friend who could always see through his bullshit, the one who was always there for him even when they were on opposing sides, the one who pushed him to live his life until he eventually allowed himself to fall in love again. With you.

She was gone. He felt hollow as he looked out on the horizon, tears streaming freely down his face. His thoughts drifting to his friend’s smile, her laughter and all that she should’ve had that was taken away from her. The unfairness of it all crushed his soul, he was so tired, so damned tired of losing people he loved. Seeing Peggy earlier and not being able to call out to her, to touch her, it was insane. It was torture.

- Damn it! They were on to him. He drew his cap lower, trying to act as inconspicuous as possible but they were already headed in his direction. He ducked quickly into the first office he saw, cursing himself inwardly for his lack of creativity. He could almost hear you saying in your usual teasing tone, “Do you really think you could hide your 6 foot 2 giant ass in an itty bitty cap? Come on Steve,” and he would have laughed if he weren’t in such a damned mess.

He was about to leave when he caught the light on the framed photograph in front of him. His palms suddenly started to sweat. It was a common enough picture used in museums and textbooks. But it was a picture of him. Before the serum, before he became Captain America. There was only one person who would have this on their desk. He looked to the office door and felt the air knock right out of him as if he had been punched in the gut. It was her office. Peggy was here. Before he could do anything else, she burst into the other room, the glass wall the only thing separating them. He went to her, his heart beating at his throat. She held herself tall just as he remembered, her voice booming with authority while she scolded another agent. She was magnificent, fierce and just as beautiful as the day he met her. He hoped to God, the darkness and the blinds hid him because he couldn't stop himself as he took another step and watched her. God, she was so close, close enough to touch. His hands balled into fists, fighting the urge to rip open the door that could so easily put her in his reach. His heart melted at the thought of her keeping his photograph on her desk, his hand finding its way to the compass he always carried around, fingers closing tightly over it. He wanted so badly to tell her everything that happened to him, that she didn't need to worry anymore. It was out of sheer force of will that he didn’t go after her, that he got to step one foot after the other to finish his mission and look to the future, the future where he could get back to you.

With one long last look at her, he gritted his teeth, holding himself still for a moment and then finally, he closed the door.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he shook away the memory. It seemed only moments ago. And it was... yet, he felt as if he’d lived a couple of decades in a span of a few short minutes. How could it have all come to this so quickly? He felt as if he was being pulled apart on the inside, gasping to make sense of anything. For the first time in his life, he was the man who had nothing left to say. He could only stare at your name on his phone, his finger hovering above the call button but it was all too much. He wanted to breathe, he wanted to think. He needed to grieve. The argument droned on behind him and he let them. Captain America could wait. Just this once, just for these few short minutes, Steve let himself be, let himself mourn his loss, let the gravity of it overtake him until he found his strength again, filling him up with determination. Shooting a quick text to you to let you know he was safe, he turned back to his team. This will not be her end. Her death will not be for nothing. He promised he’ll make it count.

They all will. “She’s not coming back. We have to make it worth it, we have to,” Bruce continued to say, his voice almost cracking.

This time he stood up, taking the mantle that was thrust upon him, carrying the weight of responsibility. His eyes shone with a purpose, shoulders wide in his stance.

“We will,” Captain America replied, his voice unwavering and true.

---

You drifted in and out of consciousness, a flurry of images and thoughts bombarding your senses. You couldn’t get a grip in an endless sea of despair, pain and hope. There was no way out, you desperately cried to yourself, the pain in your head throbbing. Voices murmured around you, calming and steadying, a lifeline out of the rising tide of overwhelming emotions storming inside of you. Emotions that weren’t your own. You were back to being a kid again, no control over your powers, picking up every single thing people are thinking of, what they were feeling. The most intense coming to the forefront, enveloping you in fear and doubt. You were in a hospital, that was for certain but other than that, you had no idea what was going on, who was around you. Their voices, although calm, couldn't hide the fear in their hearts. They were scared for you.

Throughout all the chaos, you felt someone holding your hand, strong and comforting. You tried to focus on the sensation but the emotions around you swirled and tunneled and the more you reached for it, the farther it went. You felt your own panic rising, you wanted to wake up, needed to wake up but the pressure in your chest grew heavier, making you sink lower. Pain, grief and loss drowning you while you desperately try to break the surface. You could hear Steve’s calming voice, warbled and far away. “Do something!” Steve’s frantic command rattled the doctors. His sweet nothings whispered to you giving way to orders and demands no ordinary doctor could fix. You’ve been this way for two days now, lost in your own mind, no control over your abilities. A frown marred your brows, head moving listlessly on the bed. Steve kissed your forehead, whispering softly in your ear.

Somehow he pierced through the cacophony of unwanted voices, you honed in on his voice, letting it pull you. All of your training resurfacing as you struggled to take control. Come on, reign it in, reign it in. Suddenly you were bombarded with Steve’s memories floating all around you. The first time you’ve met, the brawls he used to be bullied into, Bucky saving him, your spontaneous dates, hearing Peggy’s voice for the last time, seeing her again. Seeing her again. You felt the last one cut sharply through you, the memory searing through your brain. The world finally quieted, its silence deafening to your aching heart. You were with him, watching her in that dimly lit office as if he were in a trance. It didn’t matter what she said, nothing registered but her presence. She walked in the other room with a purpose. Her stride, sure and graceful. She was beautiful, magnificent, his Peggy. And you were there, an interloper, invisible yet in their way. A black and white photograph of him sat at the corner of her desk. You could clearly see it now. This could be his reality, not a dream in the back of his mind. He could get back to her. He finally has a choice. Did you even stand a chance?

All those moments he held his compass, it was nothing compared to this. He watched her reverently now, his feet dragging him nearer to her as if a moth to a flame. His arms sticking awkwardly at his sides, trying his best not to reach out. Did he ever look at you the same? He was enchanted by her, he is still in love with her.

A sharp pain on your arm jolted you, making you whimper. Belatedly, you realize it was a needle they prodded at you. Good. Your limbs instantly felt heavy, your head lighter than it had been.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I’m right here,” Steve kissed your fingers, resting your hand against his cheek, doing his best not to squeeze too tight. He didn’t know if you could hear him but he hoped he could infuse his strength into you, hoped he could physically fight whatever was plaguing you. He had been in the most dangerous situations and yet, he has never felt so helpless. He watched as your breathing evened out, wiping away the stray tears that fell down your cheeks before giving a light kiss to your temple.

“Everything will be alright, I promise. It’ll be alright,” he whispered, almost convincing even himself.

Darkness crawled at you and you let it, welcoming the silence it came with as you drifted off into sleep.

---

Voices murmured in the background. You shut your eyes closed, the fluorescent lights blinding you when you first tried to open them. For a split-second, you wondered where you were until everything came crashing back. The pang in your chest suddenly overpowering the dull ache pounding in the middle of your forehead. You wished you could take that split-second back, wished you didn’t remember. Hoping it was all a dream. But the look on Steve’s face wasn’t something you could easily forget. The way he watched her, the way he was drawn to her, it was inevitable. Fated. Two star-crossed lovers bound to find each other that even time couldn’t keep them apart. No, that would you, the one thing in Steve’s life that held him back from her. The thought made you want to curl into yourself, slink back into your deep, dreamless sleep you had just woken up from.

“We’ll make this work, I promise, I’ll do everything I can to make it work,”

The conversation you had on the phone came unbidden in your mind, reminding you of his desperation and sincerity. He said loved you. All the years you had together, he wouldn’t just throw that away, would he? Doubt filled your mind even as a tiny bit of your heart soared. You needed to talk to him, fight for what you have. Lay it all out once and for all no matter the outcome.

Sitting up on the bed, you saw him and Bucky speaking intensely outside your room. Bucky! In spite of yourself, you felt the corners of your lips curve. They were all finally back.

“You can’t stop me, Bucky, I’m going,”

The little courage you had faltered. Going? He was leaving again? Peeking at him through the blinds, you knew there was no stopping him. He’s already made up his mind.

“Come on, Steve. Be reasonable, people need you here,”

“I have to, Buck. No matter how stupid it sounds, alright? I just hope she wakes up soon so I could say goodbye,”

You felt yourself go very still. Whatever hope you had burned to the ground. He already made his choice. He was really willing to throw all you had because of that one, single moment. You really meant that little to him? You wanted to scream and shout, to curse at him for making you waste every single second you spent with him. You wanted to hurl all the gifts he gave you, wishing him luck for choosing the woman he barely even knew. Compared to you. You, who has stuck with him through it all. You wished you could laugh in his face, let him know how big of an idiot he was.

“I still think it’s stupid,” Bucky sighed shaking his head, making Steve chuckle quietly. Their booted steps gentled as they entered your room. You were faced away from them, your face pale and solemn, just as they’d left. Steve sighed heavily.

In the end, you were a coward. --- Author’s notes: I’ve rewritten and edited this way too many times. It isn’t perfect but I wanted to get it out already. I see each and every one of your comments and I appreciate it so much! Thank you for waiting! I know I’m not the most consistent but I love all your feedback. Hope it’s worth the wait! There should be one more chapter left for this ;)

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers angst #captain america x reader #steve x reader #Steve Rogers #steve rogers fic #captain america angst

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blasphemecel · 3 years

Text

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez ― Slick Talk

PAIRING: Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez/Reader WORD COUNT: 5.1k WARNING(S): None TYPE: Humor, Hint of fluff

━━━━━━━━━━━━

It's peculiar. You were always prone to seeing these strange, unexplainable things, but they never bothered giving you chase. Yet, you also know that you should stay away from them.

You're coming back from work and the moment you set foot inside your apartment, you come face to face with this... guy. You don't look phased at all, and with a blink, you turn back around to close the door fully.

The blue-haired man appears to find this amusing, a wolfish grin overtaking his face as he continues to lounge on your sofa, some torn package in hand. He thinks you cannot see him.

Then you look at him head-on, and with unnatural nonchalance, you address him. "Who the hell are you?"

"You can see me?" he retorts, and it doesn't answer your question.

You examine the apartment ― the hall has suffered no damage, it seems. Judging by the gaping hole in his abdomen and the part of a mask on his face (reminiscent of the creatures roaming about), though, you can tell he's not human. So you don't bother with pleasantries such as asking how he broke inside your residence.

Your awareness of his presence intrigues him. "You ain't scared?"

"No," you answer as you stare at your nails as if they're more interesting than whatever is going on.

"You're one dumb human, then," he says, coming closer with wannabe intimidation and exaggerated swagger. You almost roll your eyes at his antics.

"Why are you eating that raw?" You point at the meat in his hands. There are obviously missing chunks of it.

The tilt of his head communicates his confusion at your change in subject. "What the hell do you want me to do with it?"

"You're supposed to cook it," you explain with a deadpan. "Or you'll get salmonella."

"I'm immune to your dumb, weakling diseases!" he screams, strangely defensive. Though, if he has to be honest, he had been wondering why it tasted like shit.

You flinch at the volume of his voice. "Alright." Then you try to grab the remnants of frozen chicken from him, but he doesn't budge, and the tug of war isn't going in your favor.

"The fuck!? Stop it," he says through gritted teeth.

You're in slight disbelief at his insistence to keep what's yours, but you don't show it. He doesn't notice the way you pick your words oh-so-carefully, either. "I'm gonna cook it for you."

"Oh?"

You don't expect him to follow you, but he does. The curiosity radiating out of him, he doesn't bother concealing. You make your way to the kitchen and grace the state of it with an impassive stare. It got raided, and the unknown man beams with pride at his handiwork. He lets you take the package this time and observes as you step over the spilled beans on the floor and move to a counter.

You do your thing, undisturbed. While putting the seasoning, you ask, "What's your name?"

"Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez." The shit-eating grin on his face tells you he's proud of that, for whatever reason.

"How tacky."

"You said something?"

"Nah, just talking to myself," you lie.

"Who are you, human?"

"[L/n] [Y/n]."

Despite asking, he doesn't acknowledge your answer. And in spite of his unhidden interest in your behavior, or how strange these circumstances are, you keep up the composed bravado. "So, you see the Hollows?"

"I don't know what that is," you say, as you continue preparing the meat.

"They swing by often? You don't have spiritual pressure, though," he continues.

"I said I don't know. Fuck." A monotone even when you were trying to show frustration.

"Fuck," he mocks, trying to imitate your voice.

It goes silent after that, and you finish your task by sliding the chicken into the oven. Grimmjow doesn't let up his lingering even when you begin cleaning the mess he made, his eyes fixed on your figure as you rearrange cupboards and throw away the aforementioned beans.

"Why are you here?" you question.

"Why aren't you shitting your pants in fear?"

"What do you have against giving a simple answer?"

It frustrates him, in a way, how you're so casual. Yet you've promised him a meal, and you probably wouldn't have a tasty soul, so his incentive to attack you is low. You don't pose a challenge in a fight, as you're nothing more than a hyper perceptive human.But your attitude is another topic. Grimmjow grins again, at the thought of getting you to cower. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, but don't comment on his maniacal expression.

"I like this place. Fitting for a King," he says, gesturing towards your shitty kitchen.

"How so?" You don't mean this in a snappy way, really. There are many nicer apartments in Karakura Town, though, so you don't know where this is coming from.

"And a more powerful human than most civilians. I've got great instinct."

You groan at his monologue. "I'd have more luck getting a wall to reply to me."

"Doesn't matter," he says, with a dismissive glance in your direction. You, again, don't seem to react to his provocation.

After another period of silence, you see that the chicken is good to eat. You retrieve it, and Grimmjow tries to grab it with his bare hand, to which you retaliate with a light slap. "No. Cutlery."

"You're testing your luck, touchin' me like that," he warns, like his mood has suddenly changed from somewhat playful to aggressive.

"Wait, a second." You figure if he can disregard anything you say, you're free to do the same to him. He grunts at that, furrowing his brows in a rather nasty twist of his face, which you consider a hypocritical response.

Figuring he's not to be trusted around knives or anything sharp, much less in your vicinity after you've ignored him, you cut both your meals after moving them on two plates. You place them on the table and motion him to eat as you put down forks.

You see him disregard the fork and straight up gobble down the pieces after he's lifted the plate high enough for them to fall down into his mouth. However, you're too tired to argue any more about his table manners and so you leave it be.

Feeling the urge to piss, you disappear without notice. Not like someone like Grimmjow would lose track of you, anyway.

When you come back, both of the dishes appear to have been licked clean. "Hey. You ate mine," you say, scowling.

"Not my fault the size of your pissy meal was miniscule."

"Not my fault someone ate like, half of it raw either," you shoot back. It's the equivalent of sub-tweeting him to his face. You wonder if he even knows what Twitter is, but you disregard the idiotic thought soon enough.

His stare in your direction is challenging, like he's daring you to retort to him one more time and live to see the sequences. Despite your rather vapid demeanor, you're sure the last thing you want to do right now is test him, and so all you do is let out a light huff from your nose.

With nothing to eat, courtesy of your guest who you'd like to push down the stairs, you decide it's time to call it a night and begin doing your routine. After you feign going to sleep, Grimmjow grows bored quickly and disappears. You wonder what this was all about.

―

You didn't expect Grimmjow to return. Again, and again, and again.

It's not like you see him every day, but it's still too often for it to be comfortable. He's gross in the way he tried to pick up a spaghetti string with his fingers from your bowl and slurp it, which inevitably made you frown. Shenanigans like that aren't uncommon for him.

You come back from work only to see him seated on your sofa once more, like he owns the place, and you're convinced that's what he believes, too. Not bothering with a greeting, you go to drop your stuff off until you notice the slight noise in the background.

He found out how to turn the TV on, didn't he? You think to yourself with narrowed eyes and imminent displeasure. He's the type that would blow the machinery to bits if it plays a show he doesn't like, so this isn't an outcome you were looking forward to.

"The box is playing some dumb shit," he says, and you catch the hint of dangerous dissatisfaction.

"The―" Well, no need to correct him, you suppose, and then halt your sentence. "It's chill, I'll change it." Now comes the hard part. You take a minute to come up with something safe that a brute like him would enjoy. Wrestling, maybe?

His interest seems somewhat piqued once you switch the channel. You figure you're free to retreat to your room, but your gaze lingers on whatever's playing. Grimmjow notices this and scoffs. "You know that shit is fake, right?"

"Of course I know that," you retort, your eye twitching. He literally just saw wrestling for the first time less than five minutes ago. Why is he lecturing you?

"Well, you're staring at it pretty hard," he accuses.

You shrug before pointing at one figure on the screen. "I like this guy." You're not sure you know the wrestler's name, but that's none of Grimmjow's business.

"Whatever. You know, I could do these things for real," he says, boastful. You'd like to add 'all of a sudden' to this statement, but it's more like a default setting with him. God forbid anyone in this universe is interested in something that isn't him or his prowess.

"I'm sure," you relent, albeit sounding tired.

"Are you makin' fun of me?" Great, now it appears he took your agreement as sarcasm. With an obvious scowl on his face, he stands up from the couch and takes a stance, as if he's a second away from fighting you. The fuck?

You take a step back and then remind yourself to run away, best to duck and hide somewhere. You're pretty sure he doesn't know how the washing machine works yet, so maybe if you could trap yourself inside―

The sound of a loud laugh interrupts your not-so-clever scheming. You cringe as Grimmjow has a field day making fun of you, entering the kitchen just so he could grace you with his condescension. "You're so gullible, damn."

"Well, you looked pretty serious back there," you say, feigning composure as if you hadn't just contemplated trying to fight for your life against an Arrancar or whatever he said he was. Of course, you're sure if he had any plans of hurting you, he would've already done so. But considering how moody he is, that reasoning is never a guarantee.

He leans against the doorframe, then hums. "I guess I could be a talented actor."

"One of your many virtues, Grimmjow," you reply with a fake smile, this time trying to piss him off on purpose as revenge for his so-called prank. You're not even sure he was acting, despite how he's trying to play it off.

He clicks his tongue in retaliation, but doesn't try to convince you of anything either, which is uncharacteristic. He reclaims his spot on the sofa soon after, and you figure you're free to go to your room.

Once you put on different clothes and return to where he is, you notice he's still watching the wrestling channel. You take a seat a few inches away from him, though once you turn your attention to the TV, he turns it off and discards the remote on a nearby table.

You eye him suspiciously. "What's your problem now?"

"Nothing," he says, giving you a mischievous look.

"I wanted to watch." There's a hint of whining in your tone, even though you know it's wasted effort on your part. No, Grimmjow is not one to be moved by begging or videos of homeless cats or any other manipulation tactic the average modern person would attempt exerting on him.

He offers nothing to your request, and you stand up to retrieve the remote. You can tell he's gawking at you again, and you're only half-surprised when he waits for you to be a movement away from grabbing it, only to snatch it before you can.

"Why are you like this?" you deadpan.

Grimmjow juggles the remote between his hands. "I'm pretty great. Why aren't you like this?"

You attempt to pounce on him and take it, even if you don't care too much about watching sweaty men. It's a matter of principle. Who does he think he is, making himself at home in your apartment without paying rent, and hogging your belongings as the cherry on top?

He evades you, your sorry ass landing where he was once sitting. Putting his free hand on his hip in a gesture unlike himself, Grimmjow stares at you with a smile that's a bit too sharp around the edges to hide good intentions, looking rather pleased with himself. Though, if you had to pin it down, he always looks self-satisfied, so it's not a bright observation by any means.

You hug your knees to your chest and defy him with an impassive stare, not willing to play along with his strange ways of entertaining himself anymore.

"Aw, you quit?" he asks, voice dripping with mock pity.

You wave him off and turn to leave the room once again. At your refusal to engage him any longer, Grimmjow weaponizes a trait he doesn't acknowledge having ― pettiness. With a frown, he darts his eyes around the room until he finds a spot that's inconvenient enough to shove the remote in so you wouldn't find it.

Small evils count too.

―

Grimmjow likes you in the way he doesn't realize humans revere the mundane, sometimes.

Not to say your personality is boring; sure, you could be a bit of a killjoy, but it's a part of the dynamic. It's just that you're so normal, with a job and your own territory (apartment, you correct in his head) and shit. Kurosaki and the woman who restored his arm, they're not similar to you at all. Your normalcy is entertaining.

He bears a begrudging respect for you. You cannot put up a proper fight, but you're the one who knows how to fix the TV, do laundry, cook, unclog the toilet, whatever is viable on Earth. You have the potential to be a warlord in the human realm, surely.

"You're late," he points out, bored, once he hears the click of the door. You find it a bit redundant. Like you know most things he points out to you, you're aware of this as well.

"My boss held me back for a thing," you explain, though it's not an answer as much as it's filler. You drop the bags you've been holding on the way back. "I bought some stuff to make Beef Wellington again. I remember you liked it."

"Say what?"

"Beef Wellington, remember? The meat inside th―"

"No, before that," he grunts, growing annoyed at your inability to decipher his vague and nonsensical hints. Appalling.

You discard your shoes with no care, not in the mood to be precise. "My boss held me back?" You're not sure if that's what he wants to hear, you see no reason for him to. It's nothing interesting, or a recent occurrence.

"Just kill him and take his post," he says. At first you think he's stating his profound advice like that's a normal suggestion to make, but when you take a glance at him, you find the situation is worse than what you first thought. He's standing there with a proud smirk on his face and his chest puffed out, arms crossed over it. If arrogance had a smell, he'd be stinky right now.

"What? No, the only thing I'll take that way is a charge," you rebut, stretching your arms over your head.

"Well, how'd your boss become a boss, then?" he asks, as if he's making a valid point.

"I don't know. Grindset or something," you reply. You wonder if he knows what that slang is. Of course he doesn't, but unwilling to appear any more ignorant than you may find him (and under the assumption that you've just uttered a sophisticated term), he doesn't admit it out loud.

"You people make no sense. Killing him clearly means you've surpassed him."

"What if he's an accountant or something? Where do we go from there?"

"What the fuck is an accountant?"

"So, you guys don't do finances," you conclude while you put your finger on your chin as if you're in thought.

"Of course not," he says, again with unnecessary fulfilment. "If I want something, I take it and leave. Who's gonna stop me? That shit is all a waste of time." Again, this is a sentence you'd like to start with 'sometimes I forget' and the rest goes like 'Grimmjow's bragging can make Kanye West seem well-adjusted' but it's not quite possible.

You waste enough time with him to make it impossible to forget.

"Bold words coming from someone who needs me to pay for his groceries while he's here." A pause as he interrupts you with a grunt and a gratuitous display of his middle finger in your general direction. "Hey, Grimmjow, really, why are you hanging around here?"

You tilt your head and await an explanation.

"Things get stale at Hueco Mundo," he says. You've come to recognize the name by now. He mentions it in passing whenever he feels like sharing his braggadocios stories with you. There's even an idea of how it looks in your mind, though you doubt you'll ever know if it's true. "Gotta swing by here, eat a few Hollows to remind them who's boss, try new things Harribel doesn't know 'bout. You know how it is."

You, in fact, don't know how it is. Still, you don't find it urgent to oppose that part of his speech. "Oh, so it's like an ego thing?"

"I guess," he concedes.

"I guess," you parrot. "I just can't accept that the great Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez―"

"Watch it with your sarcasm!"

"―would end up leeching off of me. Those kinds of things don't happen to me, y'know?"

"About time something interesting happened to you, then. I dunno what to tell you," he says, grinning.

You like Grimmjow in the way people get accustomed to their annoyances and begin expecting them, then feel irritated when they don't occur.

―

"Holy fuck. It's so hot."

You turn at the sound of Grimmjow's complaining. Now, him doing that is not a rare sight, but this time you might have to agree with him. You're not sure what the deal with this sudden heatwave is, but it's worse than usual.

"I know, right?" you mutter in agreement, repositioning yourself on the sofa. There's no cool surface.

He scoffs at you like you're in charge of the weather and like this is a personal attack towards him. You return the gesture until you figure the situation is bad enough to turn the air conditioning on. Even if the machine is a sputtering pile of shit.

You experiment with the settings, and when they're to your liking, you press the button and wait. Then wait some more. And nothing happens. You're about to cuss out in realization that the thing finally broke, but you're interrupted by a puff.

Hopeful, you await the breeze, but it turns out it was a false alarm. The good old AC has reached its limit. Goodbye, sweet prince, you think to yourself before you're graced with an idea from your beautiful mind.

"What're you standing around like an idiot for?" Despite the insult, his usual bite isn't into it. The heat is taking something out of him, for better or for worse.

"Grimmjow," you say, trying your best to sound pleading. "I need your help to make the weather more bearable."

He doesn't seem too keen on offering his services, but your offer tempts him. You can tell he's considering what you said already, making your lips twitch up. At the sight of your half-smile, he averts his eyes and grumbles, "Help with what?"

You point at the air conditioner. "First, you gotta take that down."

"Well, that's no problem for me," he all but declares before flexing his physique. You stifle a laugh at his alpha male complex or whatever it is that dictates his behavior, though you suppose with stuff like this, you don't mind having a thoughtless hunk around.

You tell him how to detach it from the ceiling, though you're not too concerned with the state of it as you intend to throw it away. Leaving him to deal with it, you go to your room and dress up for phase two of the plan.

Grimmjow stands as he holds the air conditioner over his head when you return. "How does that help? And why are you all dressed up?"

"We're not done yet." You motion towards the door next before heading towards it and grabbing your key.

Grimmjow understands this as a cue you want him to follow you outside. "Are we doing your stupid shopping thing?"

"Just watch, ok," you say, hinting at a promise.

The walk there is quiet for the most part, except for your instructions to throw the air conditioner in one of the big garbage disposals and Grimmjow's cynical commentary about everything. You tune him out by the time he complains about how 'the sun is the most useless human invention' ― because he knows it's not how it works, he's just trying to piss you off.

Once you're rid of the broken possession, you lead the way towards the mall.

"It's worse out here."

"Shut up, bro." You roll your eyes at his impatience, and you're pretty sure he didn't hear your whisper because he doesn't respond with any empty threats. He could be such a drama queen sometimes, not that you'd ever tell him, though. No, you don't have a death wish.

When you make it to the techmart, you head towards the section with the air conditioners. Grimmjow frowns and wonders what the difference is between all these different models, except the price tag with numbers high enough to consider it blasphemous. Still, despite a lot of contemplation, he comes up short.

To be honest, you're not an expert yourself either, so after some dwelling, you make your choice. As you're talking to an employee to help ring you up, the unknown man raises an eyebrow when you say you don't want to pay for shipping. Grimmjow picks at his ear absent mindedly.

"Do you plan on carrying this by yourself?"

He almost interrupts to say he'll take care of it, but he remembers most of the people around here can't see him. Right. Kind of puts a dent in his plans of intervening and proving he's superior in strength, compared to whoever this guy is. Blergh.

"It's fine," you assure. The employee helps you bring it to the cash register, and soon enough you have secured secured the air conditioner.

"You really plan on dragging it like this?" Grimmjow asks, skeptical as he watches you push the box on the floor, primarily using your feet to kick it ahead. As if that's not counterproductive, considering you had to make this purchase because the old one broke. Yeah, you could carry it for a bit, but you're not trying to get sore arms when tomorrow is a workday.

"Just until we go outside. The streets on the way I know are empty, so it's not a problem."

"You're just being dumb," he says, helpful as ever.

"What would people think, if they saw a floating box near me?"

"I don't know. That you're a fuckin' magician."

"You think you're funny, huh?" you retort with a sigh when you see his smirk as if he has just told you a comedy gold one-liner.

"And now they think you're talking to yourself," he adds on, which reminds you of the times when you used to ask him questions and he'd go on tirades, leaving your often valid inquires ignored.

The first thing Orihime thinks when she sees you and Grimmjow bicker from a fair distance away is that she must be delirious, perhaps half-asleep. After she rubs her eyes and pinches herself, the scene in front of her stays the same ― the passersby are still staring at you with a mix of pity and concern, while you're having a harmless interaction with the bloodthirsty Espada she recalls healing a few years back.

If she told Ichigo about this development, the way you're coexisting with that man in relative peace at the moment, he'd probably go buy a diaper just so he can shit himself out of shock. So, she'll spare him the detail.

―

This air conditioner thing turns out to be a brilliant investment. Grimmjow loves it; so long as he doesn't have to feel like he's burning inside Aizen's asshole, whatever that may entail, his qualms about your stupid scheme of pushing it around before he could handle it may go forgotten.

He prefers to visit you on the two days you're free. When your apartment is empty, there's no one to bother or brag to, which makes it no fun. So when at some point in the afternoon you put on attire he knows means you'll be going outside, he's disappointed. "You goin' to the store or something?"

"I'm going on a date," you say. It's rather clinical. You don't sound enthusiastic, but he knows better by now. Your inflection or expression doesn't betray the way you feel or what you're thinking most times.

"That stupid mating ritual you people do?" he asks, and though he oozes calmness, he must be annoyed. Grimmjow isn't prone to belittling you if you haven't irritated him, however, you don't know what the problem is.

"Mating. Such a gross word," you reply, and the comment itself is off-handed. Neither confirmation nor a denial. You don't think he'd understand this practice in the way you do.

"Right. Does your 'date' know you share your territory with another guy?"

"The hell are you talking about?" You scratch your head. How many times have you told him this is an apartment, anyway? He has to be doing it on purpose by now, or he might be stubborn enough to not let that terminology go.

"Nothing," he claims, before looking away from you and standing up to disappear through the window with one hand in his pocket. If you're going to be away, he sees no reason to hang around here, as much as he pays homage to the AC.

You think this isn't just about him misunderstanding things about humans anymore. After what you view as a pointless tantrum, and still unharmed after an altercation much to your disbelief, you feel empty.

―

Grimmjow doesn't come back for a while after that. As much as he is an inconvenience ― be it to your nerves, or your furniture, or your finances ― you can't help the loneliness that lingers around you in his absence. You got too used to it, you figure. (It was fun. In a strange and fucked up way, you'd been entertained through the property damage.)

It's a bit naïve for you to think that he'd abandon something he considers his, though. Even if he has no reason to call dibs over your apartment, once he got the idea in his head, it was next to impossible to talk him out of it.

You're about to bring a cup of coffee to your lips when you hear a rustle, then the harsh thud of a door closing. You almost drop what you're holding before you turn around, face-to-face with the unpleasant fellow you were thinking about.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," he says, somewhat disinterested, hunching down with his usual arrogant posture.

"Aren't you dead?" you deadpan.

He shakes his head aggressively as if to shake off your comment. "Stop being a smartass!"

You laugh a little. Grimmjow perks up at the noise, somewhat, then his mouth moves into that unpredictable thin line again as he examines the living room. He appears skeptical, like he was expecting changes.

"Where's the human?"

You tilt your head. "What?"

"The one you went on a date with," he clarifies, frustration laced in his tone at your obliviousness.

"Why would he be here? I never saw him again." You rise your eyebrows. Grimmjow could be so presumptuous sometimes, and for no reason. "He was boring."

"Oh?" he says, with an underlying hint of triumph. "You don't like 'em like that?"

"Yes. The entire time on our date I was thinking to myself, damn I wish someone would come and break all my dishes except the one that's dirty," you reply with sarcasm once you notice the way he took your comment.

"And I'd do it again," he threatens. You think. He's the type of person who gets into certain situations just to make a point of the fact he can, and without repercussions, too.

"Then, when he paid for my dinner I was like, I really wish he'd just mooch off of me," you continue. "It's been so hard. Why were you gone for two months? I had no idea what to do with myself."

He opts to ignore your obvious jabs at him. "Can't hang 'round this shithole too long," says Grimmjow, though you think part of it is bullshit. He'd tucked his tail like a wounded animal the last time you talked to him. Clearly he took offense to something, but you doubt he'll admit it. "So, what? Are you free today, or are you gonna go off on some date again?"

So that's what it was, you conclude. His entitled ass thinks I have to spend every waking moment with him. You take a seat on the familiar sofa before answering. "I'm fine for today. You ever go on dates in that Hueco Mundo place?"

He clicks his tongue. "I don't need anyone."

"Neither do I." You shrug.

Grimmjow sits much closer than what you're used to this time, and manspreads as a maniacal grin overtakes his face. You fiddle with the remote until you find the wrestling channel. All he says is, "Good."

#grimmjow x reader #grimmjow imagine #bleach imagines #grimmjow jaegerjaquez x reader #bleach imagine #one shot

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astaroth1357 · 3 years

Text

Demigod MC Series: Hades

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades

Lucifer

Well… this is awkward…

He’s actually met Hades multiple times for business reasons (Underworld-Devildom relations are amiable if not a little odd. Hades was something of an uncle figure to Diavolo as a wee demon lad, which should speak for itself really). He’s a gloomy fellow and not much for chit-chat, but he never thought they’d end up taking one of his kids by accident…

He had to send a formal apology letter to the Lord of the Underworld immediately, but thankfully he didn’t seem very concerned for his offspring - if anything he appeared to think the Devildom would suit them nicely which was… concerning.

And he was not wrong. The darkness, demons, ghouls, and frights of the Devildom hardly seemed to faze the MC, if anything they fit right in. He’d dare say they were thriving if not for one thing…

They were So. Damn. Bleak.

Getting a smile out of this one AT ALL was rare. For once he felt the need to check up on someone constantly just to be sure they were alright... They’d keep assuring the House that they’re not actually as sad as they look but it’s hard not to assume…

He was a little mortified at first when they first met Cerberus cause… well they called him “Cerbi” and the massive demonic guard dog rolled over for them like a Golden Retriever!

Apparently he and the Cerberus that they knew are from the same litter and they must have smelt familiar... He would have probably limited their interactions just to keep his dog on his side but after seeing the MC smile for once while they played with the big oaf well…

Cerberus got a new playmate and the MC got a massive, three-headed therapy animal. Win-win. 😌

Mammon

Do ya really gotta be such a downer all the time, MC…? 😔

He thinks they’re nice, like really nice. They’re always super concerned when his brothers attack him or when he gets injured, but he’s pretty sure it’s because they’ve seen people die before so…

At first, he had no idea why he had to be saddled with this depressing wisp of mortal but over time he started to understand that they weren’t all that sad. They had… Resting Gloom Face? Is that a thing?

They also had a different way of seeing things. He could win the lottery and they’d tell him to stay inside so he wouldn’t get hit by lightning or if he pissed off the wrong people, they’d joke about him keeping his fingers and toes. Dark stuff, but not intended to be so… well morbid.

However, what he eventually found out that the REAL advantage to having a Hades kid in the Devildom was that nothing scared them. Literally nothing. Not even the ghosts - which to reiterate, are terrifying!

Cue Mammon getting dragged to horror movies nights with his brothers and pulling the MC along to be his personal security blanket. He’ll hold onto them for dear life as they just pat his head or something, watching and not even flinching at the jumpscares.

The first time the House had an unexpected power outage he clung onto the back of their shirt like a lost child while they calmly looked for the circuit-breaker...

If he could jump into their arms every time something scary happened like Scooby-Doo, he absolutely would. His brothers make fun of him, but after seeing the MC handle Cerberus like a puppy any time something frightens them they hide behind the mortal as well…

Leviathan

In some ways, he totally relates to their moodiness but come on! Who can still look so sad when watching The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl?? Ruri-chan can make anyone smile! 😠

When he first met the MC, he was a little confused about why they didn't find him intimidating at all. He even reverted to his demon form and showed his fangs but no dice! All they said was, "I've walked along the edge of Tartarus. You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that, buddy…"

That was probably his first sign that the "human" wasn't normal…

After Mammon told him who their Dad was, things made a lot more sense. A child of Hades in the Devildom? That's ironic enough to be its own anime plot!! They certainly felt like an angsty protagonist at times. 🤷‍♀️

Truth be told, they could relate to each other in a lot of ways. You wouldn't think that an offspring of the Underworld and a demonic shut-in would have much in common but the one thing they share between them is that sense of never really fitting in.

Turns out that Hades kids are black sheep, even among other demigods, and Levi? Well, he's had trouble relating to others since his angel days. He and the mortal were like off-beat kindred spirits!

Which, I mean, you wouldn't get just by looking at them together. Levi being the impassioned super-otaku rambling their ear off while his somber companion would just go along with him quietly, but hey, there's more beneath the surface. Probably.

Now if he could just get them to cosplay as the Lord of Emptiness with him… They'd be perfect! Perfect he says!!

Satan

Highly considered drugging their food with antidepressants for a while…

This was before getting to know them better, of course, but for the first couple months he honestly couldn't shake the feeling that the mortal looked miserable!

Now, he's one to particularly care for the comfort of strangers, but just looking at them like that every day would sour his own mood quite considerably. It was very irritating...

It was only on closer inspection that he realized there was something else at play, though.

The mortal was different - even for a demigod he imagined. They took to the Devildom easily and the realm almost accepted them right back!

The flora looked better in their presence, the hellish beasts that roamed the wilds would roll over for them, and they even seemed to be welcomed in by the never-ending shadows…

It was fascinating. Like the effects of the Underworld were baked into their DNA and mingled with the environment around them… Two layers of darkness coexisting within one person.

I mean, what other creature - other than Lucifer - could ride Cerberus around like a pony??

Had they not been so kind, they'd probably scare him shit-less... Their potential power was too great to ignore. But after getting used to their gloom, at least they made for pleasant company. 🤷‍♀️

Satan likes them well enough, but even still he has to wonder just what they were capable of… you know?

Asmodeus

Oh. My. WORD. What a buzzkill!!!

Really, the new mortal was no good at parties or pictures for that matter!

Not because they looked bad, or even because he couldn't get them to smile, but because GHOSTS would always photobomb any pictures they were in!! 😫

One time he got a selfie with them on the couch and a creepy ghost child could be seen hiding behind the cushions so NOPE. No more photos with the mortal around!!

Aside from that, he couldn't say the mortal was all bad or anything…They were pretty friendly, despite their general look and feel.

Though, personally, he thought they wore far too much black... Even in the Devildom, there's normally a pop of color, you know? Was that just the Hades dress code?

And you want to know the weirdest thing? Despite everything about them screaming "Doom and Gloom," they're straaaangely popular among the RAD dating scene…

Like. Not as some heartthrob, "Love'em and Leave'em"-type, but he's found that there's a LOT of his demonic classmates who think they're cute or have a crush on them in some way…

Naturally, he can see the appeal of the mysterious, moody demigod with a dark, troubled past. It's just the demigod in question is completely oblivious to it! 🤷‍♀️

He tried to give them dating tips or play matchmaker from time to time but eventually gave up when it was clear they weren't interested. Alas, students of RAD, this is one forbidden fruit that refuses to be shared…! Such a tragedy… 😔

Beelzebub

They remind him of Belphie… like. A lot.

The similarities were obvious. They had a similar feel, made similar jokes, and even the same somewhat dreary attitude about them...

If he were being honest, at the beginning there were times when he'd open up to them a lot more than he intended because he'd forget that he wasn't actually talking to Belphie…

Thankfully, he knew better than to try and treat them like his replacement or anything. They were two different people after all. But it didn't stop him from feeling extra protective around them for a while.

Besides, there was ONE thing that set them leagues apart from Belphie and that was the fact they were a shit cook. Not quite as bad as Solomon but uh… Actually no, that's a closer call than it has any right to be...

Apparently, Hades kids don't need to eat as much and when you hang out with shades and skeletons for most of your life, you don’t really worry about making food that's any better than… "Well, technically it's edible." 🤷‍♀️

Their food won't kill a person like Solomon's, but you WILL start seeing stuff you probably shouldn't. He tried their "soup" once and swore he saw the ghost of his mother… and he doesn't even have a mother!!!

He swears that if he ever sees the MC and Solomon working together in the same kitchen he's skipping town… Whatever culinary abomination the two of them could create would probably gain sentience and eat HIM instead. He's always figured he'd go out with Death by Food, but not like that!! 😫

Belphegor

Ever meet someone who’s like looking in a mirror? Yeah, he’s getting those vibes…

He never expected the "human" to be so similar to him, it was kind of uncanny.

Upon first laying eyes on each other there was a pause… then a squint… and then… a nod.

Honestly, their combined dry wit, dark humor, and pessimistic outlook played off of each other surprisingly well. Too well for him to hate, really.

Not that it mattered because they didn’t believe him for a second when he tried to trick them (they had dealt with loads of lying monsters before). He hated to admit it, but they had a good head on their shoulders and knew better than to trust a locked up demon…

And yet, they seemed to stick around with him anyway. Because of the good conversation or just empathizing with his loneliness was anyone's guess. 🤷‍♀️

Sometimes they'd come up and sit outside the door in comfortable silence… Or they'd talk about whatever:

MC: *sitting out by the attic with their back against the door* So what happens to demons when they die��?

Belphie: *laying on the floor on the other side, staring at the ceiling* Depends on the kind. If I die, I'll just reform later.

MC: Like a reincarnation?

Belphie: Eh. *shrugs* Maybe. Haven't died yet.

MC: You could die in there, you know.

Belphie: *throws a side glare* Well thanks for bringing that up…

MC: *shrugs* What? It's true. But don't worry, I won't let you. *small-ish smile*

Belphie: *stares at them wide-eyed and pink-cheeked before turning on his side quickly* Ugh… whatever…

They did their word, somehow. They eventually got the door open and let him out, but by that time the anger was gone and he was just happy to finally talk to them face-to-face...

And good thing too, because apparently it's not smart to fight a death-child in what is essentially their element - as he saw when they summoned an army of skeletons to kick Levi's ass when he cheated them in Devil Cart...

He would not have lasted in that fight... Dodged a bullet there.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me demigods #obey me scenarios

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milliedazzledust · 3 years

Text

I'll Come Back for You (Bucky Barnes imagine)

REQUEST: ANON - something where he is in winter soldier mode and protecting the scientist (y/n) where she is the only one who can sort of calm him down after a mission

ANON - winter soldier!bucky being protective over his scientist who’s forced to be take care of his health and she’s being kept there against his will too

ANON - Bucky Barnes request about how both reader and Bucky are each other support systems? It could be like a headcanon, how would the reader comfort him while how he comforts her so forth and so on

WORDS: 3506

A/N: So I don't know if I was inspired or if I just wrote too much, but I'm not sure this story's good. Anyway, feedback is really appreciated and I hope you'll like it :) (also don't forget to tell me if you want to be on my taglist ^^)

“What happened this time ?”

Her voice was only a whisper in the quiet room. The broken man silently sat on the examination table while she stuck a needle in his functioning arm. He didn’t speak, didn’t even flinch. This masquerade had started the moment she had set foot inside Hydra secret base. They had brought her against her will to take care of their most valuable soldier. It was always the same dance, rehearsed a million times since she had met him. After each mission, each murder, he’d come to her. She’d fix his physical wounds, take care of his arm and let him go.

More than often, she found herself feeling sorry for him. She knew what Hydra was doing to him, she’d heard the screams echoing in the distance. It would keep ringing in her ears for hours. Sometimes, the simple thought of picturing what he was going through was enough to bring her to tears. No one deserved to suffer this way.

The Winter Soldier was a cruel man, an assassin. She had seen him in action, had even been attacked the first time they were introduced. But despite being the necessary tool to take care of their valuable killer, she liked him. This wasn’t a place anyone could handle, not even him. And while she was aware of the danger Hydra represented, he was a different story. The man he once was had been trapped in a small corner of his mind, disconnected. His hands were his own, but his actions were dictated by an army that had invaded his head long ago. He was a machine turned on and off at will by the power of ten simple words.

“I was stabbed” Was his only answer. He didn’t give any detail, simply raised his shirt so she could inspect the injury.

“Do you feel any pain ?”

He blankly stared at an invisible point on the wall, avoiding looking at her. He was aware anyone could be listening.

“Soldier ?” She called him, stopping her movement and waiting for his response.

“I don’t feel anything” His voice was emotionless and a chill ran down her spine when he spoke. He was detached, impassive, a statue unaware he was capable of sentiment.

She cleared her throat, trying to stay focused on her task. She cleaned the wound, took his vitals, wrote down the conclusion of her examination and prepared what she needed to sew him up.

When she was about to administer the anesthetic, he suddenly grabbed her wrist. She caught her breath, frightened, but made no movement. For the first time that day, he turned his head to look at her. Whatever she saw in his eyes was enough to ease the tension in her shoulders and she relaxed.

“It’s okay” She whispered, a kind smile on her face. “This is propofol”

She knew he would recognize the name. She had spent countless hours explaining everything she was doing to him in detail so he wouldn’t be uncomfortable or scared. He was a super soldier that required extreme measures of treatment.

“No drugs,” He told her.

“You might regret that decision once I start to put the stitches in”

“I need to stay conscious,” He explicated, almost begging her. “Please”

She didn’t argue, only glanced at a camera behind her recording their interaction.

“Alright” She conceded. “I’ll switch to saline”

He nodded, grateful she wasn’t pushing. She turned her back carefully so her table was no longer in the camera’s field of view and he watched her emptying the needle and filling it with a harmless mixture of water and sodium chloride. Nothing that would put him to sleep.

“Have you ever been to Greece ?” She asked him out of the blue. He stared at her curiously. “I’ve always dreamed of visiting. It has the longest coastline in Europe, with so many islands between the blue Aegean Sea to the east, the Mediterranean Sea to the south, and the Ionian Sea to the west. Can you imagine how beautiful it must be ?”

She kept talking for a while about the country, the books she had read and the films she had seen about it. His eyes stayed on her the whole time, his head tilted to the side, wondering why she was telling him all this. Not that he minded, he loved listening to her. She had the power to calm him down. He was constantly on high alert, ready to fight whomever he was told to kill, prepared to endure whatever torture they had prepared, but this room and the woman inside were his only small moments of peace. Her voice was the music he desperately needed to sooth his soul.

“Why are you telling me this ?” He wondered out loud.

She smirked. “To take your mind somewhere else than here. Seems like it worked”

He glanced at his stomach and realized the stitches were already there. Too engrossed in her story, he hadn’t noticed or felt anything.

“How…”

“Funny how magical words can turn out to be, isn’t it ?”

She could swear she saw the flicker of an emotion on his face looking back between his wound and the woman, but just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

“Thank you, doc”

She hesitated a moment before gently taking his hand on her own.

“Be careful” She muttered. “There’s only so much I can fix”

“I will” He promised. “Are they … are they treating you right ?”

She shrugged. “If threatening to kill me is what you consider right, then I guess I’m a real princess in a castle”

He ran a jerky hand through his hair and seemed to be looking for the right words to say but never spoke.

“Can I ask …” She began, curiosity getting the best out of her. “What is your real name ?”

When his gaze fell on her, all she saw was pure panic. Her question, as simple as it may have been, had surprised him. He didn’t remember, didn’t even question anyone, because it hadn’t mattered. He didn’t need to be more than a ghost to be able to kill.

“I’m sorry” She apologized. “I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t mean to…”

“I don’t know” He admitted.

She gulped and looked away. His eyes held too much confusion and despair. Coming face to face with the enormity that was this man’s fate was sometimes undeniably heartbreaking.

“Can I call you Winter, then ?” She suggested.

He seemed to ponder for a while before offering her a small smile. “Yes, yes I’d like that”

It hurt to see a glimpse of happiness on his face for something as simple as a name and the woman didn’t realize that what she had just given him was the shred of an identity. A tiny piece he would hold onto. He was living inside a nightmare he had no idea he was trapped into, and if she dared to help, she would pay it with her life. So all she had the power to do was give him a name. Make him feel alive again.

The next time she saw him was only a couple of days after, carried by two agents, head hanging low and barely conscious. His clothes were stained in blood and his metal arm seemed dislocated.

“Patch him up” One of the men coldly ordered. They dropped the injured soldier on the ground like he was nothing more than an object, not even human.

She rushed to his side, checking his pupils first with a flashlight to rule out any intracranial damage to his brain. She did the same on his chest with a stethoscope, searching for any potential life threatening injury. When she moved to his shoulder to inspect the metal bones, he regained consciousness. Maybe it was the sight of yet another scientist above him or the touch of her fingers on his skin, but the man was quick to react and got on his feet in no time. His human hand wrapped around her neck tightly and he pushed her body with force against a wall, choking her. She tried to speak, but the action had been so sudden and violent that she was unable to move a muscle. He was in a trance, eyes filled with hatred that she knew was not directed toward her. Whatever he was picturing in his mind had awakened the assassin. She was the threat and he was in a game of survival.

She whispered his name several times but it was only after a minute, when she was on the verge of passing out, that he seemed to realize what he was doing. He stared at her with wide open eyes and released her from his grip. Her body fell on the floor before she started coughing, struggling to catch her breath.

“I’m…” He tried to speak, looking down at his hands in horror.

“Water” She managed to whisper.

He brought the woman a bottle and tried to help her on her feet. When he reached for her, she involuntarily flinched. A pure reflex. She didn’t miss the sadness on his face as he recoiled from her.

“I didn’t mean…”

“I know. It’s alright”

“I could’ve killed you” He said it more to himself than to her.

“But you didn’t” She laid a hand on her chest, taking a deep breath to try and calm her heart rate. “What happened ?”

“You touched me,” He explained.

“I touch you all the time” When he smirked, she realized the double meaning behind what she had just said. “Hm … why would it be any different today ?” She immediately changed the subject.

“Usually, when I’m unconscious I can … sense them around me. Working on me. And I can’t move but I still feel the pain”

Once again she was at a loss of words against the heaviness that was the burden of his life.

“Are you sure you’re alright ?” He repeated almost in a childish voice.

“I’ll get over it, don’t worry” She tried to reassure him. It didn’t seem to work. He took a temptative step, making sure she wasn’t uncomfortable. He moved his hand toward her neck, deliberately going as slow as he could. His eyes stayed on hers, watching out for any sign of fear. “What are you doing ?” She said in a breath, a different kind of shiver rolling down her spine.

“I need to make sure I didn’t hurt you” The sincerity and concern she heard in his voice were unsettling. She stared back in disbelief, but didn’t move. This was the closest they had ever been and it almost felt unreal for both of them. Too good to be true, especially in a place of nightmare like this.

He tilted her head to the back, still looking at her, and softly brushed his thumb over her skin. A bruise was already starting to appear. She saw the change in his eyes, the regret and sadness when he lowered his gaze. He kept inspecting her from all angles possible, making her chuckle in the process.

“Are you done, doctor ?” She joked.

He tried not to smile but miserably failed. “Almost. Haven’t found a diagnosis yet”

This time she laughed.

“C’mon, I’m not the real patient here. I need to take a look at you” She glanced at his metal arm, still dislocated. He was avoiding using it and she had noticed.

He sighed but didn’t remove his hand from her neck. Instead, his thumb slowly reached her cheek and he gently stroked her skin.

“I wish I could get you out of here” He whispered. “You don’t deserve any of this”

“Neither do you”

He clenched his jaw and plastered a tight smile, refusing to acknowledge what she had just said. He lowered his arm and sat on the examination table without saying anything.

“I’m gonna … hm … I’m gonna need to cut your shirt open” She gulped, trying to keep her cheeks from getting any warmer.

The man smirked and grabbed a pair of scissors nearby that he handed to her. She took it but didn’t dare to look at him, too uncomfortable by the situation. As she cut his shirt higher and higher, her hands started to shake. He could see her shifting her weight from side to side and desperately avoiding any eye contact. She was embarrassed and he was enjoying every second of it.

When finally she had taken it carefully off his body, she huffed in frustration. There was no denying that he had beyond toned muscle structure, verged into defined and well built curves.

“Is it… is it alright if I touch you ?” She allowed herself to take a glance at him, and rolled her eyes when she saw the smirk on his face.

“More than alright, doc” He teased her.

The moment her hands came in contact with his skin, he involuntarily flexed his muscles. She took a sharp breath, trying not to lose focus when she cleaned his wounds. She looked up at him to make sure he wasn’t in any pain, only to realize he was already staring. What should have been a quick glance turned into something more, a moment that lasted a little too long. When he leaned in toward her, she suddenly seemed to notice the lack of space between them. She cleared her throat and took a step back.

“Quit flirting, Winter” She reprimanded him with a playful grin.

He laughed. It was the first time she heard that sound and she couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her mouth. He looked so carefree and alive, so human. She was finally meeting the man behind the assassin, and he troubled her even more than the silent killer.

“I kinda like to see you flustered, doc”

She ran a hand through her hair, trying to hide her obvious nervousness.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” She pursed her lips to keep from smiling.

“Sure you don’t” He sniggered.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna need to put that shoulder into place”

Instead of talking, he grabbed her hips and considerably shortened the distance she had put between them. Her eyes widened from both the sudden gesture and the feeling of his fingers on her body.

“Go right ahead, doc”

She leaned in toward him to have a better access to the injury, ignoring the unexpected shudder. She was practically over him, a hand on his shoulder, the other on his broad back. If he felt any pain when she pushed the bones back into place, he didn’t show.

“All good ?” He muttered, heavily breathing. She was about to ask if he was okay but the words stayed stuck when she realized how close their faces were. He wasn’t hurt, no, he was perturbed by her presence. He could smell her perfume and see the hair raising on her neck. Whatever he was feeling, she felt it too.

“Do I make you nervous, soldier ?” She said, a smile building on her full lips.

“You have no idea, doctor”

She turned to face him. They locked eyes and, for a moment, none of them moved. The atmosphere instantly changed when he bit his lips. He bent closer and closer, and this time she didn’t push back. When finally he kissed her, she froze in place. He was about to draw back when she grabbed his neck, deepening the kiss. A sensation she couldn’t comprehend took over her whole body. He didn’t rush, took his sweet time lingering his lips over hers. She could swore her knees would have given out if he wasn’t holding her in place. Her chest was fluttering and she lost all sense of time. He pulled back from the lack of oxygen, but not before caressing her mouth one last time.

“Too much?” He inquired quietly.

She shook her head, laughing. “No. Just enough”

“I’ve been dreaming of doing that for a while” He admitted.

“Quite the change of attitude. I could’ve sworn you wanted me dead only ten minutes ago” She joked.

He pouted, not particularly happy she was reminding him of his previous outburst.

“You’re all set up, Winter” She announced after one last look over his chest. “No major damage”

“Have you checked my heart ?” He joked with a smirk. “I think it’s beating a little fast”

She coughed to try and hide her laugh.

“I’m afraid that’s not fixable” She started to write her report, ignoring his lingering gaze on her. Her brain was still fuzzy from the kiss they shared. “Unless I stay away, which would probably ease your … discomfort”

“Who said anything about discomfort ? That’s a kind of pain I’d rather enjoy”

She raised an eyebrow, not missing the way her own heart palpitated.

“Don’t play with fire, soldier”

He smirked. “Between us, I’m trying to delay the moment I’ll have to go through that door again”

This time she lost all joy and raised her head from what she was writing on her report to look at him.

“You’re strong enough to leave this place, you know”

“Leave where ?” He asked.

“Somewhere you’ll find who you really are”

“Does that somewhere include you ? ‘Cause you should know I won’t go without you”

She walked up to him and took his hands.

“Save yourself while you still can, Winter” She sadly replied.

“What about you ?”

“I’m just … collateral damage” She exhaled.

He gently pressed his forehead to hers.

“I promise I’ll come back for you after that last mission”

“I’ll hold you onto that”

He planted a soft kiss on her lips, making her forget once again where they were and what their reality was.

“I’ll take you to Greece” He whispered. “Just the two of us. Wouldn’t that be great ?”

“It’s a date” She grinned, making him laugh.

“You’ve got yourself a deal. We’ll get out of here” He swore. “And I’ll take you dancing under the stars of Mykonos”

He didn’t know then that he would never have the occasion to keep that promise. They would have more moments, stolen from the chaos of this place, but nothing more. Weeks later, he would hear rumors about treason and compromising positions. He would understand too late they meant her. She was his weak point, and the Winter Soldier couldn’t have any weaknesses. She was disposable, he was an assassin with superpowers. All the recordings they had proved he no longer could be operational so long as she was still breathing.

“Buck, you alright ?” A voice suddenly spoke in the agonizing silence.

He turned around to his friend, brushing the tears he didn’t realize had started to fall. Standing in the empty room, he couldn’t move away from the dried patch of blood on the floor.

“Yeah, I just need a minute” He shook his head, trying to make the painful memories disappear.

The man behind him began to inspect the place, searching through scattered papers around a desk.

“Dr. Y/N Y/L/N” He read.

Bucky closed his eyes, clenching his jaw. The simple sound of her name was enough to widen the open wound inside his chest. He sat on the examination table one last time, without her. Forgetting he wasn’t alone, he let himself wander into his most precious memories. He remembered the taste of her lips, the smell of her perfume and the touch of her skin. Every detail engraved in his head forever.

“Did you know her ?” The person asked.

“Yeah”

The man stopped what he was doing and observed the former assassin for a solid minute. He looked heartbroken.

“Bad memories ?” He inquired.

“Not in this room” Bucky sadly smiled.

“What happened ?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Steve”

The Captain hesitated for a moment but didn’t push. He was aware his friend was still healing and whatever the place was, it was part of his pain.

“Is she dead ?” He only questioned.

He gulped and tilted his head backward to keep the tears at bay. “They took her away from me” His voice cracked when he spoke. He was not able to stop the violent sob that escaped his mouth. He wanted to say so much more but the lump in his throat was far too heavy.

“I was too late,” He whispered. “I promised I’d come back for her but I was … too …”

His shoulders started to shake as tears ran down his bloodshot eyes. Steve rapidly closed the distance between them and hugged his friend, letting him express his sadness. They stayed there until he was calm enough to take a deep breath.

“You ready ?” The Captain inquired.

The broken soldier silently nodded.

“Where to now ?” Steve asked him. “You’re free to go anywhere you'd like”

“Greece. I have a date in Greece”

Taglist below the cut

@partypoisonsblog - @tylard-blog1

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #the winter solider x reader #the winter soldier imagine #the winter soldier imagines #the winter soldier fanfiction #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier imagines #winter soldier fanfiction #tfatws #fatws

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rocorambles · 3 years

Text

Beginning of Forever

Pairing: Iwaizumi x Reader x Oikawa

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Greek Mythology AU, Poseidon!Iwaizumi, Zeus!Oikawa, Kidnapping, Non-Con/Rape, Non-Con Drugging, Attempted Suicide

Summary: You learn the consequences of rejecting a god.

It only makes sense that when the two gods meet, they meet on Earth, the middle ground between the sky and the sea. A neutral space where they can throw off the responsibilities and weight of being Zeus and Poseidon. A free for all zone where they can pretend to be as human as they possibly can, donning the names Oikawa and Iwaizumi as they challenge each other, seeing who can seduce more mortals, indulging in carnal pleasure.

The competition is always stiff between the two of them, equally overwhelming crowds naturally flocking towards the two men. They never can decide on a clear winner in the writhing, moaning mess of naked bodies sprawled across their hotel room. Counting is the last thing on their minds as they toy with mortals, bringing them to delirious levels of pleasure unlike anything they’ve felt before. The details don’t seem important as they stick their cocks in the countless warm holes aching for them. And as they finally sit back and relax, watching as a few insatiable lustful humans go at it with each other while the others slump in exhausted post-coital bliss around them, Iwaizumi and Oikawa smirk at each other.

Another successful conquest. Just more proof of where humans are on the totem pole compared to gods like them. Mere playthings for them to have fun with.

So imagine their shock and annoyance when they meet you on their latest venture to the mortal world and you don’t spare either of them even a second glance, eyes brushing past their figures blankly before you turn to a bartender and order a drink, back turned to them as you walk away.

Maybe you just don’t appreciate the already swarming crowd forming around them. Maybe you think that they wouldn’t spare you a glance when they already have so many people vying for their attention.

They take pity on you, going out of their way to make the first move, approaching you, gracing you with their full attention.

So imagine the fury in chocolate brown eyes, the hardened edge in green eyes, when you brusquely wave them away from you as if they’re nothing but annoying bugs flitting around you.

The. Fucking. Audacity.

Neither god has ever been completely graceful about being denied, rejected, or told no, even if it came from another deity. So to come from a worthless mortal, a speck of dust in their lengthy existence? Unacceptable.

The gods always get their way.

You learn that the hard way when your surroundings suddenly change, the background noises of music, voices, and glasses fading to nothing, the dark ambiance replaced by pristine white and blues, shimmering seashells and pearls, and the crowd around you gone, leaving only two familiar faces left staring back at you.

Your first guess is drugs and you curse yourself, fear building inside of you as you try and think back on when someone could have possibly slipped something in one of your drinks. Anxiety has you scrambling away from the two men who just impassively continue observing you, green eyes curious, brown eyes amused. And even as you turn around and race away from them as fast as your shaky legs can take you, you can feel those burning eyes on you, waiting, watching.

You almost sob in relief when you see a doorway ahead of you, praying that despite the hallucinatory imagery swirling around you that this is real, that you’ve found your escape. And you prepare your lungs, ready to scream for help the second you step outside. But as you open your mouth the same time the door flings open wide, water crashes around you, overflowing all your open orifices, soaking you, drowning you, until you feel nothing except the accelerating drum of your frenzied heart.

All you can think as your vision goes dark is that this feels all too vivid, all too real.

Dazzling white blinds you as your eyelids flutter open and you wonder if this is heaven, if you’ve passed on. If only you knew how wrong and right you are. Not that the knowledge will do you much good, as Oikawa is eager to show you. Iwaizumi snorts at how Zeus radiates with dark glee, handsome face twisting in something cruel as he revels in your almost tangible fear that permeates in the air when he reveals exactly who they are and the consequences of your disrespect. He’ll never fully understand his fellow god’s obsession with these silly mental and emotional games, but he can be patient and let Oikawa have his fun before they both indulge in you.

After all, meat is always so succulent after being tenderized and marinated.

Oikawa’s always loved the surge of power he feels at being the reason a sweet little thing’s heart races, pupils blown wide in fear, sparkling watery gems forming in eye ducts. And all this just from revealing his name. Zeus. It’s not the joyous worship he’s used to from the old world, but there’s a certain reverence in the way his title incites recognition in you, the way he sees an unbeliever like you finally forced to faith.

He’s not as much of a fan of the way you still shy from him, hands futilely trying to keep him at arms length from you as he insistently approaches you. But he understands. You’re scared. You don’t know how to worship and love him yet. You’re still a new believer.

So it’s up to him to guide you.

You’re not the first terrified and reluctant follower he’s met and Iwaizumi watches in appreciation as Oikawa uses a blend of force and sway to have you bend to his ways. It’s always fascinating to see how pleasure and fear intertwine and mingle in humans and Iwaizumi can feel his arousal grow as you can’t stop the litany of moans forced from your mouth, can’t stop the sticky river beginning to trickle from between your legs despite the way you cry and beg to be released.

Humans really are such simple creatures so vulnerable to their base desires. Even cornered and hopeless, you writhe and wantonly groan as Oikawa’s mouth and hands thoroughly touch every part of you, back arching and eyes rolling back when his cock easily slips inside your drenched cunt. You don’t want to feel good. You shouldn’t feel good. Yet you can feel a familiar coil tightening inside of you with every slide of his shaft against your walls and when he forces you to gaze into those hungry eyes and orders you to cum, you obey.

You’re so malleable, so well-behaved, by the time Iwaizumi finally has his way with you. It’s hard to believe you’re the same arrogant woman who dared to turn them away when you easily let him spread your legs, not even bothering to hide how lost in pleasure and desire you are, clenching around his cock and begging for more, more, more. And Iwaizumi almost feels a pang of regret, wishing you had a bit more fight and resistance left in you, not as into the mindless sex doll appeal Oikawa enjoys.

But he’s not disappointed when the haze of sex fades and the fire returns to your eyes, fueled even more by disgust at yourself and them for the night of decadence. And he laughs when you lash out at them, vicious scathing words dripping like venom from your lips, claws sharpened and ready to strike. It’s his turn to break you apart and he relishes in the way your nails painfully attempt to pierce his skin, the way your eyes glow in their rage.

He’s not Oikawa and you learn that the hard way. He knows what this is. He’s not arrogant enough to believe you truly want this, that you’ll ever want this. But he doesn’t care. If anything it only excites him more, the way you ferociously fight him. And he grunts in pleasure as he pins you from behind, forcing your head into the ground as he thrusts into your raised and exposed ass, marking and claiming you inside and out, treating you like nothing more than a prized animal.

It’s disarming and overwhelming how different and similar the two are, your mental barriers unable to keep up and adapt to their various approaches. You try to resist, try to look for ways to escape your luxurious prison deep under the ocean surface. But you find your resolve crumbling, find yourself craving Oikawa’s filthy demeaning words, find yourself waiting expectantly for Iwaizumi’s more physical proof of ownership. And when you look in the mirror one day and see yourself covered in bite marks and blooming spreads of purple, black, blue, and red, you sob, unable to recognize the woman staring back at you.

Your resistance has been laughable as of late and Iwaizumi sighs as Oikawa gloats, taking bets on how many more days it’ll take before you completely break and accept your place, before you grovel on your knees and beg to please them and praise them. How much longer until you become a true believer?

But it’s Iwaizumi’s turn to excitedly smile when he senses you attempting to leave his domain once again, in desperate pursuit of a watery end. And he chuckles at the irritated tsk from the god beside him as he leisurely takes his time to forcefully rescue you from the liquid flooding your lungs.

“You have some work to do on your seduction skills, brother, if she'd rather die than be with us for a second longer.”

Darkness has never felt so welcoming and you bask in the feeling of your consciousness fading to black, finding peace even as your lungs ache and burn from lack of oxygen. But you thrash as much as you can while submerged when a pair of strong hands grab you, wailing in denial as air rushes through your heaving body.

“Oh, darling. You didn’t think you could escape us that easily did you?”

A handsome face crowned by wavy brown locks sweetly smiles at you and dismay numbs your body, making your limbs heavy, your mind blank. And you just dumbly stare back as Iwaizumi moves behind you, lifting a golden goblet to your lip, submissively sipping whatever he offers you, thinking it’s just water to help clear your mouth of the salty ocean still clinging to your senses. But what you aren’t expecting is the unnatural warmth that floods you, has you gasping and contorting, only Iwaizumi’s reassuring hold and Oikawa’s voice grounding you throughout the chaos.

“Ambrosia…”

You can hardly believe your own word as you voice it outloud. A nectar meant only for the gods. A substance created for longevity and immortality.

Oikawa coos as hot tears run down your face when realization sinks in, when the promise of a lifetime and more, of forever, settles in the pit of your stomach.

“Oh sweetheart, don’t cry. We knew this would be a difficult change for you, so we added something else to the ambrosia to help ease you into things. Can you feel it?”

And you do feel it, whimpering and moaning as the aphrodisiac they had mixed with the fragrant beverage streams through you, nipples hardening, pussy aching and dripping, staining the ground underneath you that you find yourself helplessly grinding against for delicious friction and relief.

You shake your head side to side as both gods surround you, but as the hard toned planes of their chests press against you, any resistance disappears and you greedily rub your tingling buds against Oikawa’s bare skin, hands clinging onto broad shoulders, back arching as you shake your ass against Iwaizumi’s hardening cock.

Oikawa’s cruel laughter fills the air, but you don’t have it in you to feel a shred of humiliation, not when everything feels so good, so addicting, and you plead for more even as he mocks you, his fingers meanly twisting and pinching your nipples, sneering at how well you’re responding, how you were made to be used for all of eternity. And how can you even argue against him as you’re forced over the edge again and again, cumming with seemingly every simple touch, body jolting in pleasure with even just a brush of his fingertips?

Is this what it means to be fucked silly? To succumb to lust? You don’t know how much longer you can survive, how much longer you’ll be yourself when they’re through with you, if they’re ever through with you. And you sob in fear? Overstimulation? Overwhelming desire? You don’t know.

You don’t know anything except for the way two cocks stretch you more than you’ve ever thought possible. You don’t know anything except for the joy of having your two holes stimulated, stuffing you full of sticky warm spurts. You don’t know anything except the intoxicating smell of musk, sweat, and sex as your face is shoved between strong thighs, your nose and mouth forced to clean the mess you’ve made of their shafts and balls, only for your lewd messy appearance to cause their dicks to rise in interest and start the entire process all over again.

When your head finally begins to clear, rational thoughts and shame flooding through you, it’s too late. And despite the desperate words of denial you manage to use the last of your will to utter, even you can hear the tremble in your voice, even you can’t deny the way your hips continue to bounce up and down of their own will on the two cocks still buried balls deep inside of you.

You sob as Oikawa tenderly kisses you, nuzzling his forehead against yours in a grotesque version of a lover’s touch, croaking out “no, no, no” as the goblet is held to your mouth once more, Iwaizumi’s hand warningly wrapping around your throat when you take a second too long to part your lips.

“Drink up, darling. It’s the beginning of forever.”

#yandere haikyuu #haikyuu smut #iwaizumi x reader #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi smut #oikawa smut #tw: yandere #tw: noncon

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