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whirlybirbs · 3 years

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( chapter 6′s gif by @buckysbarnes from this lovely set ! )

✪ — VACANT MIRRORS ; B.B. | 6/?

summary: gunshot wounds, panic attacks, and evil next door neighbors.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 5.3k, a filler before the real sexual tension.

a/n: be warned, this chapter has a diy medical procedure where bucky removes the slug from rabbit’s shoulder. it’s nothing too graphic, but keep that in mind! also, i wanted to say thank you to everyone who has rec’d, reblogged, commented, kudos, liked, looked at this fic. the response to every chapter has been so overwhelmingly kind and i’m so thankful that i have the oppurtunity to share this fic with you all. that being said, i broke this chapter up. next week has some spice. ;-)

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Bucky wakes up with a headache that feels like someone’s tapped an icepick between his eyes. A fire-bright burn radiates under his ribs.

It’s a slow creep back to reality — he just lays there and stares at the peeling wallpaper that meets the corner of the ceiling for a while, knowing deep in the back of his muddled, confused thoughts that he most likely has a nasty concussion, maybe a few broken ribs.

How? Hm. Fighting. Music? The club.

Rabbit.

He sits up fast and Bucky’s blue eyes struggle to adjust in the low-light of the scarcely furnished apartment. The searing pang of his headache is enough to make his stomach churn, but he’s had worse. So much worse. This is manageable. So, he swallows down the nausea and looks around the room like a wounded animal — and almost immediately, relief greets him at the sight of you in the armchair across from the couch.

Your hair is a mess, falling from it’s previous style that you’d proudly worn to The Glass Cannon. Your lipstick is smeared, there’s glitter on your cheeks, and your make-up has transitioned from starlet beauty to broken-hearted bombshell. Bucky notices, with a bit of dismay, that you’re even missing an earring. There’s a nasty bruise forming along the peak of your cheekbone and a gash there from when Alexei had cracked you across the face with the pistol — and even despite all this, Bucky can feel his heart clench at the sight of you. A good clench. The sort that makes his heart kick into a stutter step.

You look… well, you look like someone who’d had the shit choked out of them and then was shot.

Shot.

Your jacket, punched clean through with the single bullet hole, is hanging over the back of the chair and there’s gauze taped to your shoulder. You’re leaning your good cheek in your hand, attention turned totally to Bucky, where you’ve fallen asleep. From here, you’re a picture of exhaustion.

Anxiety flashes in his heart and he swings his legs over the edge of the couch.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder.

“Take it easy.”

It’s the woman from before, Kiwi, and she’s got an ice pack in her hands. It’s wrapped in a ratty, green dish towel, and she hands it off to Bucky with a pitiful little look. Rounding the couch, Bucky finally gets a better look at her.

She’s older than you, maybe by a handful of years, but sharp and beautiful nonetheless. Her hair is dark as night and the tips are drenched in a lime colored dye. Her eyes are dark, too, ringed by kohl and glitter, and Bucky wonders if he’s ever seen her before.

“You heal quick,” she says quietly as she plops down into the chair across the room. On a makeshift desk, there’s a laptop, “Care to explain how you know our dear friend Rabbit here?”

Bucky shifts uncomfortably. Again, his eyes fall on your sleeping form.

He maneuvers the ice pack in his hands, then gently presses it to his ribs. He melts a bit, ignoring the evident tears in the silk shirt. He feels bad — he’d busted some of the seams in the midst of the brutal scuffle and it seems like this artifact of Jaimie’s was most likely beyond salvation.

His dog tags jingle against his chest.

“Therapy,” Bucky croaks, “We, uh, we met in therapy.”

A new voice comes into the picture now, one that’s muffled by a mouthful of food.

“That’s cute.”

It’s the other one, Climber. He’s traded in his all-black, all-polyurethane outfit for an expensive looking t-shirt. Without the strobes, without the tunnel vision, Bucky can now see the intricate buzz cut that sits beneath the mountain of blue curls on his head. There are patterns buzzed into his tight-shave. He’s got a smile, too, the glimmers a little too artificially. Bucky spies crystals inset on his incisors between bites of what looks like a bowl of cereal with no milk. Spoon and all.

“I don’t think we’ve properly met,” Climber says as he plops down next to Bucky on the couch, “What’d you say your name was?”

A hand is jutted his way. Bucky blinks. He shakes it with his vibranium hand.

“I’m Bucky.”

“Well, I’m gay and you’re gorgeous,” he says candidly, giving it a good shake, “So, if that’s of any interest—”

“Can you please shut up, Climber?” comes an irritated rasp from you in your armchair. Bucky turns to watch as you raise your head and rub your eyes, “Christ, I just fell asleep.”

“And your little supersoldier just woke up,” Kiwi chirps from her preoccupation with the laptop and contents on it, “So why don’t you stop being a little baby and let him look at that gunshot wound.”

Bucky’s face falls flat. He drops the ice pack to the coffee table with a thwunk.

You sit up, gingerly trying to maneuver yourself so as to not bother both your ribs and your shoulder. It takes a moment, but finally you’re sitting up with only a dull ache of pain throbbing beneath your skin. Now, the real sting comes from the bitter look Bucky has pinned you with.

“You haven’t cleaned it yet?”

“The shits in the kitchen,” Kiwi waves at Bucky, as if to say told you so, “She fuckin’ refused to let me take care of it.”

“You’re going to get an infection if it stays in you any longer,” he snaps, standing to his feet, “Get up.”

“Kiwi isn’t exactly the most gentle person I know,” you manage to supply as an excuse as you move through the room, “And I know that thing isn’t coming out without a fight.”

He can feel the grey hairs coming in already.

You stand slowly, and Bucky looms behind you as you weave into the small apartment’s kitchen.

It’s barely lived in, but a few years ago it most definitely had life. Now, it’s mostly abandoned save for a few necessities. Kiwi had told you, a long time ago, about this spot — it was her parent’s place before the Snap. After the Blip, they ended up moving back to Massachusetts. Now abandoned by anyone seeking to really live in the one bedroom, it sits collecting dust until Kiwi inevitably needs it.

Like now.

“Up on the counter.”

You wince at his tone, but still thankful to be away from Kiwi and Climber’s prying eyes.

For the entire time Bucky had been out, you’d been subjected to a myriad of questions — all were fair, really, since Bucky did just bust out the Avenger-level super-moves on some Russian mafiosos for your sake, vibranium arm and all. The arm was really the biggest stuck point in the conversation as you tried your best to explain the nature of your relationship with the unconscious supersoldier on the couch. It was met with plenty of looks, both curious and skeptical.

You’re slow to hop up on the dusty marble countertop. From there, you watch Bucky poke through the kit that Kiwi had pulled from under the sink.

Then, with the calculated process of a man who has pulled one too many bullets from himself, Bucky slams the kit shut and wanders into the bathroom.

He returns with a pair of large tweezers. He’s silent as the dead as he rummages for a pan, fills it with water, and sets the gas burner on. He stares, watching the pot boil, as his foot taps against the floor.

You swallow down any comments.

There’s a clean towel beside you, and Bucky casually reached into the boiling water with his vibranium hand to retrieve the tweezers — whether or not he purposely ignored the pain is lost on you. You’re too busy anxiously spiraling into silence.

(He’s trying to ground himself, to feel something other than panic. It’s a mild spike, but it’s still panic. Because you’re hurt. Because you still have a fucking casing lodged in your shoulder and he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you. Ever. Because he saw it happen and then it was black, and now that anxiousness is creeping in.)

Rubbing alcohol, tweezers, gauze, tape, and… Jack Daniel’s.

It’s from the top of the fridge. It’s got a layer of dust on it — and it’s unopened.

Bucky unceremoniously pops the cap and hands the open bottle to you.

You take it and pause.

Bucky’s gaze is cold.

“You’re gonna want to take a few swigs, Doll.”

You almost snarl. You take a long drink then, ignoring the burn of the whiskey down your throat. It’s only when you’ve had enough to nearly gag that you hand the bottle back and then hiss:

“Don’t call me Doll.”

He takes the bottle and unceremoniously slams it down on the counter.

His movements are rough as he washes his hands — and if Bucky was a better person, maybe he’d take a second and parse through why he was feeling so damn irritable. But, no, no, he could figure out that he was angry at himself and you and Alexei Gardzov and Innessa Sidrova and fucking… everyone because he can’t have any normal relationships in his life without there being bloodshed or pain or suffering. That was enough, and he didn’t want to dig deeper into the nipping fear of losing you, not now, not when he had a job to do—

You suck in a sharp breath when his fingers brush your collarbone. He gently moves the delicate strap of your bodysuit, ignoring the soft skin beneath, and pulls the gauze away from your shoulder.

Your jacket had taken most of the impact it seems. Bucky frowns deeply at the pink fibers clinging to the entry wound. It’s a nasty puckered bit of flesh, smeared with blood, right in the soft muscle of your left shoulder. The hole is a little smaller than a quarter — Bucky recognizes it as shot from a 9mm almost immediately. He’s taken a few of these in his days. He’s glad it wasn’t close range. The burns from the muzzle flash make for nasty scars. He’d know. He has one on his back, right above his hip.

Bucky’s jaw is tight. He’s gritting his back teeth. His headache throbs angrily behind his eyes.

Bucky leans, eyeing the wound carefully. His limited reaction is enough to spark a little light of bravery in your gut, and you move to look at the hole — only to find a vibranium hand rooting your jaw in place. It’s gentle enough as it recorrects the line of your gaze straight ahead. His thumb rests on the curve of your chin as his index climbs your jaw, and the vibranium is warm and cold all at once. It’s an odd sensation. Not bad, but not flesh.

You like it.

(You find your mind quickly flashing with the thought of what that hand would feel like in other places. You ignore it.)

Your eyes are stuck on Bucky.

He’s clearly upset — the pinch between his brows and the evident scowl on his lips is enough of an indication. The bridge of his nose is busted and there’s a bruise crawling under his left eye. The shirt you’d given him is a wreck, and as he bends to snatch up a rubbing alcohol soaked pad, the feeling of shame creeps up on you. The anxiousness that’s settled in the pit of your stomach doesn’t help.

Arguably, it exacerbates the symptom.

The whiskey is slow to make an impact.

But, when Bucky finally swipes the gauze across the wound, your ankles have begun to tingle and it isn’t blinding white pain you feel — not yet. It’s sharp and it feels like he’s touching your shoulder blade when he presses his fingers into the holes to clean the immediate area. That has you grimacing tightly.

His obsidian-hued hand holds your face still through it.

So, you opt to stare.

His arm reminds you of some pottery you’d seen back at the Museum of Modern Art once, on a school trip. In a dimly lit room, spotlights lit up a row of vases that had been gilded back together with gold-dusted sap. You’d sat there for nearly an hour, staring at those things. You can’t remember the name now, not while Bucky does one more pass across the wound. It started with a ‘k’. It was beautiful. You loved that exhibit. Why can’t you — fuck — remember the name? Kinsi… kinsigumi? Gumi. Kintsi —

You grit your teeth and grip the counter tightly. He pauses. You exhale.

You inhale.

Kintsugi.

The seams of his arm remind you of Kintsugi.

It’s beautiful.

Bucky’s eyes flit to yours. He sees your stare.

Maybe it’s the pain, or the half-cocked daze, but the look in your eyes is enough to spur an immediate reaction. Bucky scowls. He yanks his hand back, retreating to the supplies on the counter. He’s pulled, hard and fast, and now he seems miles away.

Quietly, and with a bit more chill than he intended, he speaks. “If it was making you nervous, you should have said something.”

It.

Your head snaps to him.

“What?” you ask, nearly incredulously.

He’s silent. He has the tweezers in his hand now.

Your eyes narrow critically — and instead of shame and anxiety, it’s hurt that flies off your tongue. It’s drenched in enough pain that Bucky hears it in the waver of your voice.

“You think I’m afraid of you?”

It’s nearly a whisper.

He swallows.

He ignores it. He has to. He doesn’t want to know the answer. Either way that conversation goes is enough to drag him into territory he can’t handle right now. Not when he needs to do this without his hands shaking.

“This is going to hurt.”

Your mouth is open — be it shock or anger, he’s not sure. Bucky, however, makes a point of ignoring your expression and your reaction by handing over the whiskey once more. You snatch it from his hands quickly. There’s a look on your face that makes his chest ache. With one last pass over him with your eyes, you take a long swig.

You feel like crying.

You won’t, though. Not now. Not while he does this.

You deserve this.

And holy fucking hell does it hurt. It’s like someone’s taken a hot poker and punctured your skin, then rotated it around and around and around. You can feel every time the tweezers touch the bullet because the metallic little click echoes in your chest. It’s enough to make your head spin, and you grit your teeth and close your eyes and try to breathe — but even after a handful of minutes, when Bucky finally retrieves the slug, there’s no relief. Just a desperate throb.

Your hands are shaking when you reach for the whiskey once more.

You do cry, finally, when Bucky packs the hole.

He rolls the gauze up tightly into a cylinder and, as gently as he can, pushes it in.

It’s a horrible choke of pain that you smother into your palm and pant through. It reminds you to breathe, and while you stare up at the water damage on the kitchen ceiling, Bucky tapes a square piece of gauze over the bruised wound and wraps your shoulder tightly. He takes his time, but there’s a curtness to his actions.

Finally, when he begins to clean up the mess of bloodied gauze, you speak.

“If you’re mad at me, then just say it.”

He snaps almost immediately, like a kicked dog. “And say what, Rabbit? That I almost lost you?”

Your mouth slips shut.

Bucky pauses what he’s doing. He drops the gauze onto the towel and he bares both hands against the counter top. He leans and exhales and drops his own head back — then, you can see his own waves of anxiety knocking him against the shore of composure. His eyes move back and forth, he inhales, and then after a long while he speaks.

It’s calmer. Not so horribly mean.

“You should have told me about Alexei.”

You go to speak — but he stops you.

“I mean really, really told me,” he explains, “Had I known he wanted your fucking head mounted on a spike, I would have kept you far away from that place.”

“We had to—”

“No,” he says sternly, standing up full height, “No, we didn’t. We never have to do anything that’s going to put you in danger. Never. I won’t do it again. You should have fuckin’ told me.”

You’re quiet.

“A few more inches to the right,” he says, gesturing to your throat with his finger. His eyes are expressive and he’s speaking like he’s lived this experience, “You’d be dead. Cold and dead and I’d be here, carrying the fucking guilt around with me because I wouldn’t have been able to do anything.”

His voice splinters at the end — but he’s moved to throw away the gauze and dump the tweezers in the sink. He can’t look at you as he says it, and you know that. Because, just like before, people like you and him have a hard time looking the truth in the eyes.

You slide off the counter.

Your heart is sad. It’s heavy and mournful and weighed down with guilt.

“Bucky.”

It’s soft. He’s scrubbing your blood from his hands.

He doesn’t turn around. He can’t. He can feel the prick of an anxious breakdown beginning to climb into his eyes. Instead, he scrubs and scrubs and scrubs and your blood is stuck in the plating of his hand and it’s not going to come out—

Think of what could have happened if it had been a few inches to the right. The arched spray. Blood everywhere. She can’t speak through the gargle, she’s going cold, she’s gone. And, like always, you’re alone again, Bucky.

Then, your hands are on his.

The touch is enough to stop him. It’s enough for him to move aside at the large, inset kitchen sink. You exhale slowly as you run the water a little warmer and gingerly run his hands under the tap. Your hands are smaller than his, a bit more delicate, and he’s stunned into a sharp silence at the feeling of your fingertips gently washing away the crimson blood.

You grab another dish towel from a drawer beside the stove.

Then, in the dim light of the kitchen, you take both his hands and dry them.

It’s the vibranium hand that you pay special attention to, though. And Bucky feels like a fucking idiot — just standing there, just watching as you run the rag between the gilded plating and use gentle pressure to get into the harder to reach spots. You turn it over, and you dry his knuckles.

You take your time.

You don’t look up when you speak. You’re focused. Almost reverent.

He doesn’t deserve this.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you say sternly.

His mouth is dry. “Rabbit…”

Bucky shifts on his feet and takes a deep inhale. He feels lightheaded.

The whiskey, and the closeness of the two of you, makes your skin warm. His whole nervous system feels like it’s on fire.

“I didn’t mean to stare, I don’t ever mean to,” you apologize as your hands still over his arm. He watches your irises trace the plating above his wrist. The rag is forgotten, its purpose null. Your words are heavy, and Bucky can hear a little shake in them as you swallow, “I just… think it’s beautiful.”

You’re beautiful.

Even now, blood-soaked and sweat-stained. With makeup running down your cheeks and your composure in shambles. Even now, on the run and apparently wanted, you’re incredibly beautiful. Bucky hates how easy it is to admit and how hard it is to keep off his tongue. It nearly gets the better of him. He watches your eyelashes flutter. When you look up at him, the world is suddenly drowned in honey.

“I’m sorry.”

You mean it.

Your bottom lip wobbles.

Bucky, immediately, regrets being so goddamn cold.

You were just trying to help — you were just trying to do the right thing.

“Stop it. Come here.”

The hug is the first time you can remember touching him like this. You think you’ll always remember it, too. It’s sturdy and warm and gentle and honest and you bury your face into the shoulder as his arms come up around your neck. He’s careful of your own injured shoulder, and his fingers find the base of your neck. Around his waist, your fingers dig into the back of his shirt. Both of you ground yourselves in the other’s arms, and for the first time in a handful of hours, you both find peace.

Quiet, sturdy, lovely peace.

And the two of you stay like that for a while in the quiet little kitchen.

It’s not until Climber’s voice rises from the living room that you’re pulled away from Bucky — and even then, your face linger inches from one another for a moment too long. Neither of you say a word, only swallow down confessions that could have been, and move on.

“Oh, girlie, you’re gonna wanna see this.”

Bucky frowns. With your brows knotted tightly together, you weave through the kitchen and back into the living room.

Kiwi has sat up and both her and Climber have their eyes on the bulky flat screen on the dust-covered entertainment center. It’s cable news, and as Climber leans to turn the television up, a picture of you flashes across the screen.

It’s a photo from your arrest six months ago.

“Local authorities are asking that anyone with information on the whereabouts of this young woman call the FBI’s anonymous tip line—”

“Is there a reward?” Climber whispers almost excitedly, eyes on the screen.

“—Authorities are offering $100,000 dollars to the person who provides enough information to lead up to this dangerous fugitive’s capture.”

“Dangerous fugitive?” hisses Bucky.

“A hundred thousand dollars?” cries Kiwi, “Who the fuck did you piss off?”

You inhale deeply as you wave your hands. “The bigger question is who the fuck knew I was going to The Glass Cannon last night. Because they’re looking for me — not you.”

You point at Bucky and the gears are turning in your head.

The pacing is almost immediate, and Bucky crosses his arms tightly as you begin to walk back and forth behind the full length couch that Climber is currently spread out on.

It’s cut short, though, by Kiwi’s laptop chiming successfully.

“Well,” she stands quickly, “I have a feeling that someone knows you’re onto them. And the facial recognition software just got a match. A three point one, too.”

Your eyes brighten.

You’d given Kiwi the photo of the young Innessa, with all her decorated furs and blonde curls. She’s laughing and she’s young and she’s in love and it’s hard for you to imagine a woman like her to be dangerous. While you’d made sure Bucky was propped up comfortably on the couch and then finally calmed down from the adrenaline high enough to get comfortable yourself, Kiwi had dug out the hard-drive she kept on her at all times and began pulling data from the Alexandria Library files.

It had been a handful of hours, so it was clear that Innessa had hid herself well in the vast, expansive database SHIELD kept for all those years while it was in operation.

Bucky is quick to gather behind Kiwi, eyes scanning the screen.

Sure enough, when you come to look at the photos pulled up on Kiwi’s screen, there’s a hit. There’s an identification card photo of an older woman, maybe in her forties, pulled up alongside the photo Bucky had given you. Her hair is no longer blonde, but deep auburn color. She’s marked as having worked with Rumlow — a supervisor of some sort. Makes sense. You didn’t need to see a picture of Crossbones to remember Brock. Even when you’d interned, he’d been infamous.

And that was when he was one of the good guys.

There’s a handful of other photos of her — candids, professional photos, and even one where she is shaking Tony Stark’s hand.

And in all of them, you see your next door neighbor Bonnie McLayne.

“Fuck.”

Bucky blinks. Kiwi turns to look at you over her shoulder.

Again, you speak. Your eyes are wide. You can’t look away from the screen.

“Fuck, fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

“Rabbit…?”

“Fuck.”

Bucky’s face narrows considerably, confusion melting to make room for realization.

His voice is quiet.

“Do you know her?”

“Oh my god,” you say loudly, shaking your head and blinking, “Oh my fucking god, that’s my neighbor.”

Bucky can feel his whole face go clammy.

“The neighbor who—”

“—Who I showed your fucking picture to,” you nearly shriek, “Like it was some cute little matchmaking game!”

Immediately both hands are over your face as you throw your head back. Now, the pacing has begun, and like you’re being carried on autopilot, you begin to move back and forth and back and forth and—

“You don’t think she’d hurt Poke, do you?”

“Rabbit.”

“Oh god, oh god—”

Oh.

Oh, you’re having a panic attack.

Oh, that was quick. Brutally fast. Nearly immediate.

After all, she knows where your family lives. She gets Holiday cards from mom to give to you. She’s been your closest friend for nearly six years. But she’s not Bonnie, she’s Innessa fucking Sidrova. She’s seen you with Bucky. She knows — she knows a lot and you don’t know anything and you’re miles from home, from Poke, from Mom, from Ana… Oh, god, the baby. The baby.

“The baby.”

Bucky’s voice is level. “Rabbit, you gotta calm down.”

“I have to call my mom.”

“No,” Kiwi snaps immediately, “They’re going to be watching for your cell phone pings. No calls, no texting, none of it. And god forbid this woman is one step ahead of the FBI—”

“Oh, god.”

You gasp like a fish out of water, paralyzing fear sending you to lean against the back of the couch.

You claw at your chest and try to remember what Dr. Hart said about these sorts of moments. Square breathing. In and hold and out and hold. Again and again.

“Sit down,” Bucky says as he returns to your side, nearly sweeping you up long enough to plop you down into the armchair from before, “And do me a favor and breathe.”

The whiskey isn’t helping right now.

“I’m trying.”

Another gasped breath.

Climber and Kiwi watch.

Bucky shakes his head sternly, kneeling on one knee and snagging your hands. “Don’t try. Just do it. You can do it. Just follow my lead — you’re the sidekick, after all. Remember? C’mon. There’s the smile. Breathe.”

So you do.

In, hold. Out, hold. You draw a square with one hand on your jeans and hold onto Bucky’s with the other.

Again, in and hold. Out and hold.

And again.

And then, you just listen to Bucky’s breathing.

You’re not sure how long it takes — half an hour, ten minutes, who knows — but finally you’re able to calm the spiraling thoughts in your head. Finally, the loudness quiets down, you catch your breath, and the world isn’t falling apart. The bite of anxiety still remains in the hollow of your chest and Bucky can see that when you finally open your eyes and squeeze his hand.

There’s that look again between the two of you. The one from before, in the kitchen.

“Good?” he asks quietly, blue eyes swimming with some sort of emotion you can’t really pin down. Not now. Maybe, if you’d been a bit more collected, you would have seen it as infatuation. But, no. It’s just… nice.

You swallow and nod.

“Damn, girl,” says Climber from his spot on the couch, “Now I’m starting to get the whole therapy thing.”

“Thanks, dickhead.”

“That’s recent, isn’t it?” he asks, genuine worry crossing his face as he stands to gently pass a hand over your back, “I don’t remember it ever being this bad.”

Your face is sad. “I was just partying through it back then. Distraction was always the best method and then… When I had no more distractions and it was just me? Alone? And, psh, the accident with Jaimie? It got worse. So much worse.”

Climber’s eyes soften. “I’m sorry, bunny.”

You try to put on a brave face.

Bucky stands from in front of you and begins his own pacing. This one isn’t so much born out of anxious nature — but more of a tactical logic born out of keeping you safe.

This wasn’t exactly the turn he was expecting.

“You didn’t recognize her?” he asks after a moment, voice high and tight.

“I’m sorry,” you wave a hand, exasperated, “She doesn’t exactly look the same as she did in the 70s.”

Kiwi frowns at the screen. “Definitely botox.”

Bucky squints. He looks to you for an explanation.

You vaguely gesture to your face.

His brow lifts, he closes his eyes, and he sighs.

Kiwi is next to pipe up. “It explains why the feds are looking for you, especially if she saw you with the one man she knows is looking to hunt her down — so, I think it’s best the both of you lay low for a couple of days.”

“Not to mention,” Climber wags a finger, “Bucky the Babe over here did just piss off one the smaller Russian crime families in New York. So, there’s always that ontop of the evil Nazi-HYDRA-woman-next-door.”

You groan.

“Poke has enough food for a week,” Bucky says nearly reading your mind, “He’ll be fine.”

“So, what? We just wait here? Until something happens?”

“Sidrova is going to try and bait us out,” Bucky mutters, “She knows she can’t just disappear. She’s been settled for too long and we know too much. Engaging us in an altercation is how she’ll do it. Plus, I have a feeling she wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to shoot me in the knees after a few decades. So, we wait.”

“Few decades?” Kiwi whispers.

“How old are you?” Climber asks.

“Hundred and six.”

Both of them just blink at an unphased Bucky.

You sigh, finally standing on wobbly legs. “This feels like a bad idea. I’m just stating that for the record.”

“Better than her hunting the both of you down,” Kiwi supplies, “You can stay here. There’s cable, there’s booze, and there’s plenty of instant ramen to last you until winter.”

“Stale cereal, too.”

“Wait— where are you two going?” you ask, narrowing your eyes, “You’re leaving?”

“Keeping our hands clean,” Kiwi says, closing her laptop, “And letting you be the sidekick, bunny.”

The sadness in your heart grows a little heavier at those words, but there’s a little bit of pride in Kiwi’s tone. As she stands, she moves to wrap her arms around you in a gentle hug. Quietly, she murmurs into your hair.

“Your dad would be proud of you, y’know.”

Bucky watches.

Climber is next, and that hug is bigger, more brotherly, more like sunshine and less like autumn.

“Don’t be a stranger, Rabbit.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out as the two of them gather their belongings, “For dragging you both into this. But, thank you. You didn’t have to help me—”

“Yeah, we did,” Kiwi chirps as she knocks Bucky on the arm three times, “Keep her safe, aakarshak purush.”

The Hindi rolls off her tongue with ease.

Bucky laughs. “Bahut lamba.”

Kiwi pauses mid-step. She narrows her eyes. There’s a smile on her lips. “Your pronunciation isn’t bad.”

He shrugs plainly. “I get lunch almost everyday at the Indian place below my apartment, so. The owner has been teaching me some stuff on the side.”

An approving nod.

Kiwi hucks you the keys across the room.

She points at Bucky.

“I like him. Try not to fuck that up, eh?”

And then, the two of them are gone.

And it’s just you and Bucky in the empty apartment.

#vacant mirrors #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barns x you #bucky/reader #winter soldier x reader #mcu imagine #tfatws imagine #A LITTLE LATER THAN PROMISED BUT SHE IS HERE

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years

Text

two can keep a secret

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: What is the difference between a secret and a lie? Jason Todd is in love. But will his relationship survive when Y/N realizes she doesn’t know him at all?

Word Count: 9,500+ [One Shot]

Warnings: Violence, mentions of rape, domestic violence, and murder

She is the first thing he thinks of when he slowly comes to.

Not her face, like some glowing angel that you always see in those stupid movie montages, where the protagonist’s wife or girlfriend tragically died and he’s thinking of her.

No, Jason is thinking about how pissed Y/N’s going to be when he misses date night.

Jason didn’t need to go out to a fancy restaurant or cocktail bar to be content. Doing absolutely nothing with Y/N was more than enough for him. But she deserved more than that – not that she ever said so. Jason was the one who insisted on taking her out every so often. So he sucked it up and did anything to make that woman smile. It didn’t hurt that Y/N was too talented at dolling herself up.

Y/N was probably sitting with her hair curled and her makeup done to perfection (after watching a YouTube tutorial for a look she had been wanting to try for weeks). Or, depending on how much time had passed, she had given up and bitterly changed into her pajamas.

The other unfortunate fact was that Y/N still didn’t know that Jason had a double life. She had zero idea that her boyfriend of a few months was also the infamous Red Hood.

So, yeah, Y/N was going to be pissed, thinking that Jason simply forgot about date night or just completely blew her off.

Just when Jason was fighting the migraine to open his eyes, someone kicked his shins roughly.

“I know you’re awake,” someone sang to him.

Jason blinked and squinted, realizing that his helmet was still intact.

Well, that’s one positive.

He looked at the man standing just a few feet away from him. Decked out in a fancy green suit, horned rimmed glasses, and that stupid little bowler hat.

The Riddler.

Jason always found him to be mostly an inconvenience. But clearly he’d done something to piss off the annoying genius, because this was a lot of effort on his part.

“What the fuck do you want?” Jason growled, knowing his voice sounded even more dangerous with his helmet distorting it.

Riddler smiled and put his arms behind his back. “You have become rather troublesome, Red Hood.”

“Oh, how the tables have turned,” Jason answered with sarcasm.

But Jason hadn’t been interfering with the Riddler for quite some time, so he was still rather confused what was going on.

“Our mutual friend is quite tired of you meddling with his business. Also, it’s not cheap to replace all of his goons you keep murdering.”

Jason tilted his head. “You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific.”

Riddler narrowed his eyes with slight annoyance. “Why the Clown Prince of Crime, of course.” Jason’s body tensed at the name and the Riddler noticed immediately. “He figured if you came back from the dead once before, there’s a chance you could do it again.”

Then the Riddler stopped his pacing and did a dramatic gesture to himself. “Which is where I come in. You see, he thought it would save him some time and effort to simply hire me.” He moved closer to Jason. “He figured if he couldn’t kill you…maybe you deserve a different punishment.”

Jason audible sighed. “Am I supposed to be scared?”

While it sounded like a joke, there was a truth to the question. Jason stopped fearing death long ago. And once you’ve died and come back to life, there’s nothing really that scared Jason Todd anymore. Which was why he had become the ruthless and merciless antihero of Gotham.

Batman would hurt criminals enough to break them. Red Hood would simply kill them.

Though after fighting his family became too much, Jason finally agreed to stop his massacres. But the criminals of Gotham didn’t need to know that. And Jason would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy how much they shook at the mere sight of him.

“Oh, I’m sure we can figure out how to return some fear into that ice cold heart of yours,” Riddler whispered in Jason’s ear before pressing a button.

A swinging light bulb flashed on.

No, no, no, no. no.

Below the source of the light was Y/N, tied to a chair by her hands and feet. A rag was across her mouth and tied at the back of her head. She was only in her underwear and a baggy t-shirt – Jason’s t-shirt. Further proving that she had been ripped from her bed and brought here against her will.

Jason completely controlled his reaction to seeing his girlfriend being held captive just 20 feet across from him. But in reality, his heart was about explode out of his chest.

Not this. Not her. Anything but her.

“What is this?” Jason asked, trying to sound as devoid of emotion as possible. The less she seemed to mean to him, the less Riddler would want to use her against him.

“I think you know exactly what this is, Red Hood.” Then Riddler practically skipped to Y/N’s side, who looked confused and terrified, clearly having no idea why any of this was happening to her of all people.

“Your quarrel is with me, Riddler. There’s no need to involve an innocent civilian.” Jason’s voice was cool and even.

But he ignored Jason and pulled a pistol out from the back of the waist.

Jason couldn’t remain calm any longer. He started struggling against the ties.

“Don’t worry. The fun has just begun. You get these three riddles right and I won’t hurt her – at least…not yet.”

But Jason was looking at Y/N. She was looking back at him, which did little to reassure her. She didn’t know who he was and his helmet wasn’t designed to comfort people.

“Hey, it’s gonna be OK.” He tried to tell her as softly as he could.

For some reason, she nodded. But Jason knew her well enough to see his words had little impact on her. Tears started streaming down her face and her entire body was shaking as she felt the cold metal of a gun pressed to her head.

“Shall we begin?” Riddler asked with a creepily joyful smile.

Jason waited. But as the Riddler was distracted, he was able to maneuver his arms to press the panic button on his wrist to send out a distress signal to the right people. It was his first time using it, always too proud or stubborn to ask for help.

But if Y/N was involved, none of that mattered anymore.

The Riddler’s eerie tone brought him back, “When you have me, you feel like sharing me. But if you do share me, you don’t have me.” He took in a deep breath. “What am I?”

Jason’s chest was heaving with anger. He should’ve been more careful. He should’ve stayed away from Y/N. He was a curse, a disease. Anyone that got close to him just ended up in danger. And he should’ve known better than to think he could be happy without consequences.

“Clock’s ticking, Red Hood.” He cocked the gun. “What am I?”

“A secret,” Jason growled.

“Surprise, surprise. There does seem to be some semblance of a brain underneath that stupid helmet of yours.”

Y/N closed her eyes in relief, causing more tears to escape and slide down her cheeks.

“When you have me more, you can see only less. What am I?” The Riddler asked.

Jason thought on the next riddle as he tried to find one of his knives hidden in his sleeve. But even when he grabbed one, it would take far too long to cut through this thick rope that kept him tied down.

“Darkness,” Jason answered confidently.

The Riddler seemed annoyed now. “One more riddle and then we’ll move on to another game. Or maybe we won’t, if you get it wrong.” He shifted so he was directly behind Y/N and facing Jason as he pointed the gun at the back of her head.

“The person who built it, sold it. The person who bought it, never used it. The person who used it, never saw it.” He tilted his head. “What is it?”

Jason finally found the edge of a knife. He subtly started cutting at the ropes on the back of his chair, praying he could buy himself enough time to get him out.

The Riddler lifted the gun to the ceiling and shot it, causing Y/N to jump and let out a yelp.

“I’m waiting!” He snapped at Jason.

“A coffin!” Jason growled. “Put the gun down and let her go. You’ve had your fun.”

The Riddler laughed. “Oh, you think that this was the main attraction?” He put the gun down, but moved to grip Y/N’s chin roughly.

“Secrets, darkness, coffin,” Riddler listed the three answers aloud. Then he turned to Jason. “What do all of them have in common?”

Riddler moved back behind Y/N and leaned down to whisper in her ear. The feeling alone caused a chill to go down her spine. “You’ve been lied to, my dear. The decision to bring you here was not random at all. That I can promise you.”

“Secrets, secrets are no fun. Secrets, secrets hurt someone,” he sang loudly, his voice echoing in the warehouse. Then he danced back to Y/N and pulled down the rag around her mouth, finally allowing her to speak.

“Red Hood, question for you. How many people have you killed?”

Don’t do this, Jason begged in his mind.

He didn’t answer.

The Riddler didn’t appreciate this and quickly walked to Y/N, smacking her across the face with the back of his hand.

Jason struggled against his restraints.

Riddler whipped back to him. “Answer the question!”

“I don’t know,” he barked back.

“You don’t know because there’s so many?” Riddler challenged.

“I don’t keep track,” Jason answered quickly, knowing his silence would only cause Y/N more pain.

“More then 10?”

“Yes.”

“More then 50?” Riddler asked with an evil grin.

“Yes.”

Riddler turned to Y/N. “It’s actually 83.”

It was the first Jason had heard the number. But he knew better than to question it.

“You call yourself a hero. But looks to me like you’re just a murderer,” the Riddler cooed with a sneer.

Jason hung his head in shame. “I’ve never called myself a hero.”

Riddler ignored his comment and turned his attention fully to Y/N now. “Now this next one is for you, dear. And it’s a tricky one.” The Riddler took in a deep breath. “I hurt the most when lost, yet also when not had at all. I’m sometimes the hardest to express, but the easiest to ignore. I can be given to many…or only just one.”

Y/N swallowed, repeating the words over and over again in her head.

“L-Love,” she finally stuttered out, but seemed sure of her answer.

The Riddler smiled at her response. He turned to Jason. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, Red Hood.” Then he shifted his weight. “Or should I say Jason?”

Jason saw the confusion on Y/N’s face from the comment.

“Tell me dear, did you know you were in love with a murderer?”

Y/N was discombobulated by such a question.

But before she could figure it out, the Riddler rushed to Jason and ripped off his helmet. When he saw that Jason was wearing a domino mask underneath, he rolled his eyes. “All you bats and birds are so paranoid!” Then he ripped that off, too.

Y/N’s eyes widened at the sight of her boyfriend.

But Jason didn’t catch it. He was too busy hanging his head, scared to meet her gaze.

“Surprised?” The Riddler asked her with glee.

Her tears started again. But they weren’t just from being scared now. They were tears of betrayal.

“Oh, sweetheart. Don’t cry,” the Riddler mocked.

“You did what you wanted. Now let her go,” Jason growled.

He tugged at his ropes, but his knife wasn’t cutting fast enough.

“Let her go?” The Riddler was baffled. “Who said anything about letting her go? I said I wasn’t going to hurt her if you cooperated. But killing her is the only way I can hurt you, Red Hood. Don’t worry, I shall make it quick!”

With that he raised his gun to her head once again. Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, truly believing this is how she was going to die.

“NO!” Jason screamed.

But right before pulling the trigger, Riddler’s grip was knocked away by a batarang.

Jason felt sick with relief when he turned to see Batman and Robin making their way to the Riddler.

Riddler was not a fighter. He always made a run for it.

But when he turned to do so, he was met with Nightwing blocking his path.

Jason felt someone drop behind him and realized that Red Robin was getting rid of his restraints.

Riddler looked around him with crazed eyes, realizing he was about to be outnumbered five to one. “This is too many vigilantes for my liking. Time for backup.” He pulled out a button and pressed it before Dick could rip the unknown device from his hands.

An explosion erupted in the warehouse, catching everyone off guard.

Tim had just finally released Jason from his restraints when the impact hit.

Jason saw as Y/N’s chair was knocked off its legs, taking her to the floor with it. Her head slammed against the hard concrete floor.

As soon as the explosion settled, Jason sprinted to her.

When he reached her, she was knocked unconscious. “Y/N! Come on, beautiful. You’re OK. You’re OK.”

But the words were to convince himself. He felt for a pulse and let out a sigh of relief when it was still strong.

Ever so carefully, he untied the ropes that held her to the chair. He ripped his jacket off his body and wrapped it around her shoulders. She seemed so small like this – so vulnerable. He’d tried so hard to keep her away from this darkness. And seeing her like this was the horrid reminder for why he’d lied to her about who he was.

His family watched with concern as Jason stood with her limp body in his arms. By some miracle, the blast missed all of them. It was used as more of a distraction than as an attempt to take any of them out.

Jason slowly walked to Bruce.

“Take her. Please.” His eyes desperate at first, but then they darkened. “There’s something I have to do.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened. “We had a deal.”

But he still gently took Y/N out of his arms.

“That was before her,” Jason answered as he took a final glance at Y/N.

“Jason, don’t do it,” Dick urged.

“Keep her safe,” was all Jason said before turning from them and running after the man that had put his love in danger.

“What shall we do with her?” Damian asked coldly as he eyed the young woman he was seeing for the first time.

“We’re taking her back to the manor,” Bruce told his sons.

“Is that wise?” Damian countered.

“He’ll need her. And she’ll need to know everything,” was all Bruce said as he started carrying Y/N to the batmobile.

————————

Y/N wasn’t awoken by people screaming from the streets below or the garbage truck coming too early to throw every neighbor’s trash can around at 5AM. She couldn’t hear the blasting of her window unit air conditioning.

No, instead she heard birds chirping outside and the wind rustling countless trees.

Did she even have a single tree on her block?

She squinted her eyes open and the night came rushing back to her.

Goons storming into her apartment, ripping her from her bed and throwing a bag over her head. Y/N just remembered thinking, “I’m just glad Jason wasn’t here. At least he’s safe.”

But Jason was far from safe. He was Red Hood: the infamous anti-hero that half of Gotham thought was a murderer and the other half swore he was just as much of a hero as the the other masked vigilantes.

How did she not see it sooner?

The random cuts and bruises. Constantly missing dates. Late-night texts when she had already fallen asleep. Always being exhausted when he was present.

But it was easy to ignore all of this because when they were together, things were good – no, things were amazing.

No man had ever made Y/N feel more seen and loved and appreciated. In fact, before him, Y/N had come to terms with being alone for the rest of her life. She made peace with it, had no problem with it.

But then Jason came stumbling into her life. And he didn’t accept Y/N being unloved the way she did. It was the thing that made him get over his own self-hatred and constant need to punish himself. If he wasn’t going to love Y/N for him, then he’d love Y/N because that’s what she deserved.

And Y/N felt that.

But he wasn’t who she thought he was. He had lied to her over and over again. When she was concerned over his injuries, he made up story after story. When she asked where he’d been after skipping a date, he used work as an excuse.

Did Y/N actually know Jason Todd at all?

Or had she only seen what she wanted to see?

Did the man she love even exist?

These were the questions racing through Y/N’s mind as she awoke in a bedroom that she didn’t recognize. Bedroom – if that’s even what she could call it. It felt more like a palace. She’d never slept on softer sheets or a comfier mattress. The room was bigger than her entire apartment. And from what she could see in the ensuite bathroom, it looked like it belonged in a five-star hotel.

Y/N’s observations paused when she saw Red Hood’s leather jacket tossed on top of the fancy chaise lounge on the other side of the room. No, not Red Hood’s leather jacket. Jason’s. It was the only indication that he had been there.

Am I in Wayne Manor? Y/N asked herself.

At least Jason hadn’t lied about that, explaining his afflicted relationship with his family casually a few times. But in a way that always told Y/N he didn’t want to talk about it in depth.

The leather jacket then caused Y/N to look down at herself. She was wearing a white t-shirt and grey cotton sleep shorts. Clearly they were mens. Someone had changed her while she had been asleep – or…unconscious.

Fuck, her head really hurt.

Having enough of being confused, Y/N slipped out of the bed and decided she was going to hunt down an explanation.

The bedroom was placed in a long hallway. Taking a 50/50 chance, Y/N decided to go right instead of left.

She walked as quietly as possible, still feeling uncomfortable in such surroundings.

After she stepped down the most extravagant staircase she’d ever seen, she heard sounds come from around the corner. It sounded like movement in a kitchen.

When she reached a doorway, she saw an elderly man dressed as a butler. As he was cooking, he caught Y/N’s presence from the corner of his eye. He quickly turned and gave her a comforting smile.

“Ah! Ms. Y/L/N, your timing is impeccable. I was just finishing up breakfast.”

But she remained unsure of the situation.

“Oh, I do apologize. Where are my manners? I am Alfred Pennyworth.” He quickly stepped to her and offered his hand. “I am the butler for the Wayne family.”

“So…this is Wayne Manor?” Y/N asked after awkwardly shaking his hand in the doorway, completely forgetting to share her own name. But he cleary already knew it.

He smiled at her. “Yes, Master Wayne brought you here after last nights…theatrics.” Before either of them could discuss the “theatrics” he slyly mentioned, he pulled out a chair at the table in the kitchen. “Please, sit. You must be famished.”

This man hardly looked threatening, so she decided to follow his instructions.

Alfred quickly placed a large plate with a full English breakfast on it, a mug of steaming coffee, and a glass of water. Then he offered her a bottle of advil.

Y/N looked up at him with a curious glance.

“I can only assume your head is aching quite a bit. From what I was told, you took quite the fall from the explosion.”

At least Y/N knew she hadn’t imagined the nightmare. It was real. She quickly took two of the pills and chugged the glass of water.

Alfred didn’t hover, instead continuing to work on more breakfast.

But Y/N’s breakfast was quickly interrupted when Bruce Wayne walked into the kitchen.

He eyed her carefully, hiding his surprise at her being awake. Casually, he went to the coffee pot to pour himself a cup.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asked her.

Y/N was surprised how genuine his concern sounded.

“Confused,” she blustered out without meaning to.

Bruce smirked. “I meant your head.”

She cleared her throat. “Right. Ummm…just a terrible headache. But I think I’ll live.”

“Good.”

To her shock, Bruce sat across from her. He drank his coffee as his eyes raced across the tablet in his hand.

Y/N took a few bites of food before she had the courage to ask one of the many questions that were racing around her head.

“Where is Jason?” She asked slowly and carefully.

Alfred seemed to tense at the question and hesitated before saying, “Master Jason thought it best to give you some space.”

Y/N didn’t know what to make of his answer.

Bruce seemed to be studying her.

Y/N wanted to shrink under his scrutiny, but fought the feeling and met his gaze head on, as if challenging him.

“He’s in the cave,” Bruce told her evenly.

It seemed no one was trying to hide their family secrets from Y/N.

“I’d like to see him.”

Bruce and Alfred shared a look and what seemed to be a silent conversation.

After a moment, Bruce stood up. “I’ll take you.”

Y/N jumped out of her seat to follow him.

Next thing she knew, Bruce was taking her through a secret passage and there was a dark and dreary staircase in front of her.

Bruce gestured for her to go forward, silently telling her he wasn’t coming with.

As soon as Y/N started down the cold staircase, a shiver went down her spin. The temperature immediately dropped.

When she reached the bottom, she looked around and found Jason sparring with a man she recognized as Dick Grayson.

Jason did a double take as soon as Y/N took a step away from the staircase.

Dick followed his gaze and his face dropped.

The two men shared a look and their sparring ended.

Dick walked to her and gave Y/N a charming smile as he held out his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I’m Dick.”

Y/N forced a shy smirk and shook his hand, but said nothing.

Now it was just Jason and Y/N.

Y/N’s arms tightly held herself because of the freezing temperature of the batcave, and because she didn’t know how this conversation was about to end.

“Hi,” Jason said awkwardly.

“Hi.”

“How’d you get down here?”

Y/N shrugged. “Bruce.”

Jason looked her up and down before quickly turning and grabbing the sweatshirt he had discarded before working out and sparring.

He handed it to her, making sure not to get too close. “Here. It gets fucking frigid in this stupid cave.”

Y/N quickly put it on. But she didn’t miss how Jason tried to keep his distance.

“I’m not scared of you,” she muttered.

He cocked an eyebrow, but she could still see the hurt in his face. “Really? Because you’re not looking at me like I’m the same person.”

“Because you’re not,” Y/N snapped.

Y/N imagined this conversation would be filled with rage. She thought she’d start yelling at Jason and then she wouldn’t be able to stop. She’d tell him how disappointed she was in him, how he was just like every other man who had hurt her. Her hands would be quivering in fists at her side. The anger…it would consume her.

So imagine her surprise when her bottom lip started trembling and tears started streaming down her face. And she could do nothing to stop it.

Little did she know that watching this hurt Jason more than her anger ever could.

He took a step toward her. It was his instinct – an instinct that was so hard to fight in this moment.

“You know…it’s really hard for me to let people in – no, it’s hard for me to let men in. I don’t trust them. I stop doing that a long time ago. But you – fuck – I don’t even know why now. But I did let you in. I really did. I told you things I’ve never told anyone. I trusted you. I…I loved you, Jason.”

Jason looked in more pain than ever before. His eyes watered from seeing the woman he loved breaking down like this. And it was no one else’s fault, but his own.

“But you hid this whole part of yourself. You lied to me. Every excuse you made for your bruises and cuts, you were lying. Every time you canceled a date, you were lying. And I’m realizing that you lied to me about your life more than you ever told me the truth.”

She tried to wipe away the tears, but they were coming down too fast.

“Was the Riddler serious?” She accused. “Have you killed all those people?”

“I have.”

Y/N studied him for a second. A part of her hadn’t expected him to admit it. She was waiting for him to give her another lie. After all, it came so naturally to him.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” She practically whimpered.

“Yes,” he answered quickly. “I just…I didn’t know how. I was scared.”

Was there even anything he could say that would make her hate him less?

Jason ran a hand through his hair. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you. And I should’ve kept you safe. You almost–” He felt sick. “You were almost killed last night. And it was because of me.”

Y/N’s eyes went dark. “Did you kill him? Did you kill the Riddler?”

Jason’s jaw clenched and his hands turned into fists at the mentioning of the criminal’s name. “No, but I should’ve.”

In truth, he almost had. It hadn’t been hard to catch up to the bastard. Jason beat him to in an inch of his death. But not before he confirmed that no one else knew of Y/N’s existence. No, he didn’t kill the Riddler. But he beat him so badly that he would be in the coma for the rest of his days – unable to speak, meaning no one else would ever know about Y/N.

“I don’t do that anymore. Bruce and I…we have a deal.”

“He’s Batman,” she wasn’t asking. “And your brothers…” she didn’t need to finish.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me.” His head hung low. “I don’t deserve it. And I never deserved you in the first place. I always knew that. It’s probably why it was so hard to tell you. Because I knew the moment I did… you’d see me for the monster I really am.”

Y/N’s eyes were red now and her nose congested.

“You don’t owe me anything. But I just…I need to tell you this before I never see you again,” Jason quickly said, sensing this was their final goodbye. “I love you. I didn’t even think I could love someone the way I love you, Y/N. You…you’ve made me better. And you’re probably the only reason I was able to stop myself from killing that son of a bitch last night.”

It was Y/N’s face Jason saw when he was beating the Riddler. And then he realized, in some twisted way, that such a death would also be on her hands. He could handle having blood on his hands forever. But would never do that to Y/N.

Then Jason’s word turned so, so quiet. “But I also know I can’t ask you to stay after everything I’ve done to you.”

And for a moment, the two of them just stared at one another.

Y/N tried to wipe the last of her tears away once again. “I think I should go,” she mumbled.

“You can’t go back to your apartment. It’s not safe there anymore. Bruce offered to let you stay here for as long as necessary. I’ll leave,” he quickly added. “So you don’t have to worry about being around me.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m not staying here,” she said with a surprising amount of conviction. “I’ll stay with friends or something. But I don’t want to be here.”

What Y/N meant was that she didn’t want to be surrounded by the secrets Jason had kept from her. She didn’t want to be reminded of how little she actually knew him.

Somehow Jason seemed to realize that.

He took a cautious step toward her. “For what it’s worth, you do know me. I know you think that’s a lie. But no one sees me like you see me, Y/N. No one.” He pointed up. “Not even the fucked up people that call me their family.”

His words struck in a way she wasn’t expecting. But she made sure he didn’t know that and controlled her expression, staying as emotionless as possible.

Jason sighed, knowing this was their end. “Alfred will take you anywhere you want to go.”

He wanted to tell her more. He wanted to ask – no, to beg – to hold her. Just one last time. But he would never ask that of her. How could he?

So he just watched as Y/N slowly turned and made her way back of the stairs.

Jason wanted to memorize her face as if this was the last time he’d lay eyes on her. But he knew himself better than that. He’d make sure she was safe, add her to his patrol as if it was normal addition to his vigilante life. Y/N didn’t deserve to be at risk for the rest of her life because she made the mistake of loving a man like him.

————————

1 MONTH LATER.

————————

Y/N didn’t realize how hard it would be. She thought she could just go back to the life she had before Jason ever fought his way into her heart. But it took her a month to understand that was never going to happen. She’d never be able to just forget him.

She thought anger would take over and make her hate Jason. Hate was always easier than love. And Y/N was banking on that.

But after everything Jason did, Y/N still couldn’t find it in her heart to hate him.

Because, at the end of the day, they still loved each other.

Despite his secrets and his lies, Y/N knew that Jason had been telling the truth about his feelings for her. He really did love her. She had felt it every day. Even at the beginning of their relationship – before they realized what they were feeling was love – Y/N always felt how much Jason cared for her.

That was why all of this was so hard for her.

Take away the lies, the secret vigilante life, the killing. Take it all away. And Y/N knew she had never met another man that made her feel the way Jason did – or…had.

That was really what Y/N had finally realized over the past weeks. She had thought it was betrayal and fear.

No.

She now understood that what she was feeling was a broken heart.

It was a first for her. One had to be in love in order to get their heart broken. And the only man Y/N ever loved was Jason Todd.

As the understanding washed over Y/N, she was staring out the window. She’d made herself a cup of coffee, but had been so lost in her thoughts that she’d let it grow cold. Then she felt a tickling down her cheek and realized that she had started crying.

Suddenly there was a quick knock at the front door of her apartment.

Y/N squinted in suspicion at the sound and sloppily rubbed the tears off her face.

She slowly walked to door, but stopped a few feet away, and just stared at it as her heart rate increased.

After Riddler’s men broke into her home and ripped her from bed, she had been anxious and cautious about any and all unexpected visitors. She hadn’t been sleeping. Either she couldn’t fall asleep or if she did, her night was infested with nightmares.

“Y/N? It’s Dick Grayson,” a voice called from the other side of the door.

She let out a small sigh of relief. How long had she been holding her breath?

There was a part of her that was screaming to still ignore the uninvited guest, despite it being someone she knew. But how well did she actually know Dick Grayson?

Except the other part – the part that could admit she missed Jason – wanted to speak to anyone that was from the part of her life she was trying so hard to forget.

Ever so slowly, she opened the door.

“Hi,” Dick beamed at seeing her appear. His smile and eyes were warm and friendly in a way that none of the other boys were.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N asked with a bit of rudeness.

She didn’t appreciate him giving her a scare. Especially because her two best friends that she now lived with were out of town for the weekend.

“I was hoping I could talk to you,” he gave her a shy but hopeful grin. Then he held up a tray of coffee and a paper baggie. “I brought you a latte and some doughnuts.”

Y/N eyed him. Her first thought was that maybe something had happened to Jason. But Dick’s delivery proved that wasn’t the case.

Her only invitation to Dick was a widening of the door and making room for him to walk past her.

This seemed to make him happy though.

Y/N directed them to the little breakfast nook that was flooded in the morning light.

She didn’t waste any time. “Did Jason send you here?”

“No, Jason doesn’t know that I’m here,” Dick clarified as he slid one of the lattes to her side of the table.

Her nerves were the only reason she picked it up and started sipping, just trying to give herself something physical to do while Dick stared at her from across the little table.

“Is he OK?” She mumbled without looking at him.

Her pride wanted to her to shut up and not ask. But she couldn’t stop the question from spilling out, even though all evidence pointed to Dick having no bad news to share.

“He’s fine,” Dick quickly assured her. “Well…physically, at least.”

“What are you doing here, Dick?” She repeated her original question.

“It should be Bruce here, really. But he…” His words died out and then he cleared his throat. “Well, these types of things aren’t exactly his strong suit. Tim wanted to come, too. But I didn’t want to…overwhelm you.”

“And what ‘type’ of thing is this exactly?”

Dick took in a deep breath and then leaned forward, placing his forearms on the table.

“You deserve to know the story – the whole story. I’m not here to get you to forgive Jason or to change your mind about leaving him.” He rubbed his face. “But I just want you to know the truth about him before you live with those decisions.”

Y/N’s heart was racing now. She felt sick.

Was she even ready for this conversation?

“So, is that OK?” Dick asked her carefully.

After a moment, Y/N finally nodded her head.

Dick took a deep breath.

He knew where he needed to start. And he wasn’t just about to share Jason’s secrets, he was about to tell Y/N all of their secrets. But it was what needed to be done.

Dick told her about Jason living on the streets, how his dad abused him, and his mother was a drug addict that couldn’t protect her son. Little Jason Todd turned to crime to take care of himself and get enough money to take care of himself and his mom.

Dick smiled as he told her how Jason tried to steel Bruce’s wheels on the batmobile. That was the moment that Bruce knew he couldn’t leave such a desperate child on the streets. Then everything happened so quickly. Next thing Dick knew, Jason had replaced him as Robin and Bruce had a new sidekick.

“I should’ve been there for him more,” Dick confessed. “Jason didn’t just need a home and a parent… he needed a brother, too. And I take responsibility for not really being there for him. If I’m being honest, I was bitter. It was hard for me to see how quickly Bruce could just…”

“Replace you?” Y/N offered softly.

Dick swallowed and nodded.

This was the hard part. Now he had to explain how Jason died, how the Joker tricked a child who was desperate to find the truth about his mother. How a dead boy became a resurrected man.

Dick knew he couldn’t gloss over the gory details. Jason deserved better. He didn’t need to have his secrets protected from the first woman who loved him. He needed to be seen and still loved.

Dick watched as Y/N shifted in her seat, trying her best to compose herself as Dick told her about Jason dying so horribly and then being resurrected. Joker’s maniacal laugh flashed in Y/N’s mind. As Dick spoke, she could almost feel the warmth of the explosion that he’d set for Jason.

It was all so terrible.

How Jason was able to overcome it all left Y/N in awe of him.

“Jason has never really fully been himself since before…everything,” Dick said. “But it wasn’t fair that any of us ever expected that after what happened to him. I know there’s still so much that he’s never told any of us. And I’m not sure he ever will.”

Dick explained Jason’s rebellion from the family and his war with Bruce. Dick was the one that got emotional now, as his eyes glossed over, remembering how angry and ruthless Jason had been.

“Bruce has one rule: no killing.” Dick sighed and rubbed his face. “Jason thought he was being what Gotham needed. He was tired of watching criminal after criminal beat the system and repeatedly get set free. We eventually had to make a deal with him. We couldn’t stand by and let him continue on the way he was.”

Dick gave her a nervous look. “I can only assume that the hardest thing to wrap your mind around is the–”

“Killing,” Y/N quickly interrupted harshly.

Until now, she had remained quiet but engaged. Never interrupting or adding unnecessary responses.

“Yes,” Dick replied before tightening his jaw.

Y/N couldn’t look at him now. “I know–” She had to pause because her voice was shaking so much. “I know he did it to protect people. And I know – in his mind – that they deserved it, because they were bad people.”

“I might not agree with Jason’s views or his past actions. But one thing is for sure: Jason Todd has never killed an innocent.”

“I just don’t know if that’s enough,” Y/N said with teary eyes.

“I understand,” Dick nodded.

There had been a part of her that always knew Jason was fighting demons. But she could’ve never guessed how bad it had truly been for him.

How could he hide all of this from her?

Y/N couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer. After hearing Jason’s life story, how could she? Tears silently ran down her face. She wasn’t embarrassed to cry in front of Dick. He had such a calming presence about him.

Dick just let her consume everything he’d spent the past hour telling her. He just wanted to be there for her as she processed it.

So he sat there and let her cry. And eventually she got a hold of herself.

“You’re forgetting the most important part of this story,” Dick told her with a shy smile.

“I am?”

Dick nodded. “You.”

She scoffed at that.

“I’m being serious, Y/N.” Dick leaned forward again.

Y/N didn’t know what to say to that. She wasn’t one to share her emotions and feelings freely. So she wasn’t about to open up to her ex’s older brother, whom she hardly knew.

“He loves you, Y/N.” Dick insisted.

“None of you even knew about me,” Y/N tried to argue.

“That’s not true. Just because he didn’t tell us directly doesn’t mean we didn’t know about you.” Dick smirked. “We’re a nosey bunch. When we noticed a change in him – a good change – we did a little investigating.”

Y/N couldn’t find it in her to tell Dick that Jason made her change for the better too.

So she changed the subject to what was really stopping her from running back into Jason’s arms despite all the lies and secrets.

“How did you get over it?” Her voice was so quite that it was almost a whisper.

“Get over what?” Dick squinted.

“The killing.”

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Police Officers kill people every day.”

Y/N made a look of disgust. “Law enforcement in this country is corrupt. I figured a man who felt the need to wear a mask and become a vigilante was well aware of that.”

Dick winced. “Why do you think Gotham is so hard to clean up?”

She stayed quiet.

“Soldiers have killed more people on a single tour than Jason has,” Dick continued.

“Soldiers are following orders,” Y/N countered. “Orders from authority whose ethics and motives are often questionable.”

“Exactly.” Dick’s back straightened. “We’ve normalized both of those things. But I can assure you of one thing, Jason has no ulterior motives. There is no systemic prejudice that controls his actions. Just right and wrong, good and evil.”

Then he rubbed his face, wondering if he wanted to say the next part. “When things with Jason were bad – really bad – and I thought I would have to be the one that put him behind bars, the one thing that gave me hope was knowing that Jason had rid the world of evil. That doesn’t mean I condone his actions…but it helps me sleep at night.”

Silence filled the apartment. Y/N was still processing the information. And Dick didn’t want to force her to talk or speak just to fill the silence.

Slowly, Dick rose from his seat.

“I don’t want to intrude any more than I already have,” he told her gently.

There were those classic Wayne manners that both Bruce and Alfred had ingrained in him. It reminded Y/N of Jason. Even though Jason had a dark, sarcastic sense of humor and quite the temper, Y/N couldn’t remember a time when the man didn’t say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ – not to mention all the old-school gentlemanly gestures that always caught her off guard.

Y/N followed Dick to the door.

He hesitated. “Thank you for listening, Y/N.”

She just nodded.

“Like I said when I got here, I’m not telling you what to do. All I ask is that you consider everything you learned.”

She nodded again. “You’re a good brother, Dick.”

He chuckled darkly at that. “Jason would disagree with you on that. I’m lucky if he even calls me his brother most of the time.”

Y/N managed to force a shy smirk on her lips for his benefit.

Then Dick was reaching into his pocket for a piece of paper. He slowly handed it over.

She looked down to see what appeared to be an address. “What’s this?”

“The safe house Jason’s been hiding out in since you last talked.” Then he gave her one final nod. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

————————————— 3 WEEKS LATER. —————————————

Jason had been on autopilot these past couple of months. He let his work take over his life. To make matters worse, he barely added eating and sleeping to that mix. The only reason he managed to get himself to eat was to keep his strength up… so he could keep working.

Right now was the one of the few times his exhaustion was so heavy that he managed to get a couple hours of sleep.

That is until one of the alarms for his safe house went off.

Someone had triggered the sensor for the floor.

It could easily be a homeless person. It wouldn’t be the first time. But that assumption went on the window when Jason heard a polite knock at his front door.

Completely silent, Jason moved out of bed and grabbed the gun that sat on his nightstand.

Quickly he tiptoed to the door and waited, half expecting someone to start shooting. It wouldn’t have mattered, seeing as the door was made out of bulletproof steel.

Without making a sound, he made his way to the peephole.

When he spotted who was on the other side, his body moved on reflex alone. He instantly put the gun on safety and whipped open the door.

His guest jumped a little in surprise.

“Y/N,” Jason gasped.

Once she got over the scare, she seemed to take in his appearance.

Jason looked awful. There were shadows under his eyes. His hair looked greasy from the lack of washing. And because he was “working” so much, his body was littered in more injuries than usual. He stood completely shirtless in black boxer briefs.

But the only thing Jason was embarrassed about was his autopsy scar that was on full display for her.

Yes, Y/N had seen and felt it. But it was always in the cover of darkness. If they had sex in daylight, Jason always found a way to keep a shirt on. It was always effortless and subtle. Plus Y/N was so preoccupied with the passion between them that she never really considered how self-conscious he was about it.

Once again, Y/N was wondering why she normalized things like that instead of pushing Jason to open up about things he was obviously hiding.

She had assumed they were scars from his childhood. He had told her his dad was abusive and his mom did nothing to protect him. Y/N thought the scars were from an incident – an incident that was too traumatizing for him open up to her about.

But they were autopsy scars… Because Jason had died once.

“Did I wake you?” She asked him gently.

“No,” he quickly lied. Then he shook his head, still processing that she was standing in front of him. “Come in,” he hurriedly added.

She game him a grateful nod and walked past him.

Her eyes quickly took in the safe house. It looked like an industrial loft. But what she was really locking on to was the multiple tables covered in weapons and gear.

After all that time of Jason’s vigilante life being hidden, now it was all completely on display for her to see.

“Are you OK?” Jason quickly asked her.

She nodded.

“How is your new place?” He then asked.

“Fine,” she offered.

“Your roommates are OK?”

She nodded again.

“Are you sleeping alright?”

“Jason,” she said it sternly, in a tone that she knew would make him finally stop with the frantic questions. “I came to talk to you.”

This took him aback.

Then he looked around him. There was a fold out table a few feet away from them.

“Here,” he muttered before rushing forward and moving what appeared to be a dozen knives and multiple guns.

He pulled out one of the chairs and motioned for her to sit.

Then Jason seemed to finally realize his state of undress. “I’ll…just give me a second.”

Y/N would’ve laughed at his adorable franticness. But she was too busy feeling nauseous and anxious.

She turned her back to him changing since the loft style gave little privacy. 30 seconds later, Jason was moving back to the table and sitting across from her in a black hoodie and sweatpants.

Y/N gently cleared her throat. Her gaze couldn’t meet Jason’s as she said, “Dick came to see me.”

Jason’s face darkened. “I’m sorry. He shouldn’t have done that. I’ll ta–”

“No, it’s fine.” Then she shifted in her seat. “He came to…uhh…he came to talk to me about you, actually.”

That wasn’t what Jason was expecting.

“He told me everything,” she stated. “I mean, everything you never did.”

The true meaning of her words slowly washed over Jason.

He leaned back in his chair, his massive form making it squeak.

Y/N took in a shaky breath. “Jason…I’m-I’m so sorry.”

He shifted his weight.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Y/N.” He told her quietly.

Usually Jason’s death and resurrection was a joke. He loved making his family cringe, shrink, and become uncomfortable with his dark humor about it. That was just how he’d grown to deal with it all.

But he couldn’t do the same for Y/N.

A few beats of silence passed between them.

“I miss you,” Y/N finally told him.

Jason’s eyes widened at the confession. “I miss you, too.”

Silence again.

“Was I just part of a cover?” She quickly asked him.

“No,” he immediately answered.

“Was our relationship even real?”

“Yes, Y/N. I promise you that it was.”

Y/N bit her lip. She came here with no plan. And now it was starting to feel very real. She knew what she needed to know and she knew what she needed to say. But she wasn’t sure how to get there.

“Do you still love me?” She whispered.

Jason flinched at the question – not because of the answer, but because she felt the need to even ask it.

He nodded.

“After everything that’s happened,” she began, “what would a relationship between us even be, Jason?”

This was not the follow-up question he was expecting.

“What do you want it to be?”

But what he really wanted to say was it could be anything she wanted. He would do absolutely anything to get her back. Anything.

Still, he didn’t want to push her. So he let her take the lead.

“No more lies,” Y/N demanded. Jason opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “I know you can’t tell me the details of the nightly occurrences from your…other life.”

“It was to keep you safe,” he tried to explain. “The less you know, the safer you are. No one can try to use you for information.”

Y/N nodded in understanding. “I’m saying no more lies about where you are or why you can’t make something. And no more hiding injuries.”

Jason nodded firmly, trying to mask his eagerness.

“But more importantly…No more lies about your past. Dick may have told me everything he knew. But I know there’s missing parts and it’s only his perspective.” Then she hesitated, “And I’d…I’d like to hear it from you.”

Jason felt sick by the idea. He thought maybe he’d gotten out of such a request because of his nosey brother.

“You might not like what you find…” he warned her.

But Y/N was already shaking her head. “You know me inside and out.”

Jason did a weird half shrug, half nod. “I like to think so.”

“Don’t you think I deserve the same?”

Jason knew he had a point. But he loved everything about her. Y/N’s flaws weren’t even flaws to him. They were just what made her the woman she was. And that so happened to a woman he was deeply in love with.

But his sins? They were what convinced him that he was unlovable – a monster.

“You do,” Jason agreed with a mumble.

Y/N struggled to swallow with how dry her throat had suddenly become. “You had made a deal with your family – a deal you almost broke because of me.”

Jason knew what she was really asking. She didn’t even really know what she wanted.

“You want to know about the people I’ve killed,” he said low and even.

But she didn’t answer.

Jason leaned forward on the table and thought over her request. He rubbed the scruff on his jawline and chin.

“One was a man who was trying to rip down the pants of 5 year old girl in an alley of the Narrows.” His expression and tone was numb as he started listing them. “Another was an abusive husband that pushed his pregnant wife down a flight of stairs, causing her to have a miscarriage and almost die.”

Y/N felt sick as she listened.

“The last person I killed was Gotham’s number one human trafficker. When I asked him – with a gun to his head – how he had such a lack of remorse, he said, ‘These sickos are going to find their fun one place or another, I might as well make a buck off it.’”

Y/N could tell as Jason shared these stories that he felt no remorse for his executions.

“Bruce would tell you that every one deserves a chance to change. Or he’ll tell you that we’re not the law, we’re just enforcing it.” Jason shook his head. “But I’ve seen thousands of rapists, murderers, and – god knows what else – get freed time and time again. They may get locked up for a bit, but most of them find their way back on the streets. The system is broken. I know it. You know it. And Bruce knows it.”

Then his eyes darkened. “And before you ask, I wouldn’t take any of it back. Truthfully, I believe the world is a better place without those fuckers in it.”

As harsh as it sounded, Y/N appreciated the honesty. And perhaps there was a part of her that agreed with him.

Jason was right: she did know the system was broken, just as much as he did. But she wasn’t in a position to execute the same justice as he could.

“Can I ask you something in return?” The softness in his voice surprised Y/N.

She nodded her head.

“That morning at the manor…you said you weren’t scared of me.” He paused. “Were you telling the truth?”

“I wasn’t scared of you – at least, not like you’re implying. I felt–” She searched for the right word. “Defenseless. Because you knew me, but I didn’t know you anymore. Does that make sense?”

Jason nodded. “And what about now? After knowing all I’ve done.”

To his surprise, Y/N reached across the table and gently grabbed one his hands. She held it in her grasp, tracing the lines in his palm. The skin was rough and scarred.

After so long without it, the feeling of her touch caused a shiver to go down Jason’s spine.

Y/N knew these hands had killed dozens of people. But she also knew that they’d been nothing but gentle with her.

“You’ve never hurt me, Jason.”

“I never would,” he answered quietly, almost with a certain desperation.

She nodded, already knowing that.

“No matter what happens with us, I don’t ever want you to be scared of me, Y/N.”

Then she was crying and jumped from her seat. Without even thinking, she was on the other side of the table, throwing herself onto Jason’s lap, and wrapping her arms around him. Jason pulled her even tighter to him, cradling her face to his neck.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. For everything. I just…I just want you back. OK?”

Y/N pulled away and Jason wiped the tears from her cheeks. She nodded and gave him a teary smile, “OK.”

Their relationship wouldn’t mend itself just like that. They were going to have to work at it. But with all their secrets on the table, they knew what they were fighting. And from now on, they were going to face them together.

----------------

Yeesh. That one was a lot.

Let me know what you think!

(If you have criticisms about how I wrote Jason, I’d love to hear them, just don’t be a fucking asshole about it. There’s a right way to give feedback and there’s definitely a wrong way.)

#jason todd #jason todd fic #red hood #red hood fic #jason todd x reader #jason todd reader insert #red hood x reader #red hood reader insert #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #batfam #batman fandom #batman fic

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collecting-stories · 3 years

Text

Forevermore - c. 06 - JJ Maybank

Summary: With your parents away, JJ spends some quality time at your house.

A/N: Sorry there was a longer gap between these chapters.

You Are Ok Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✞ I never really ever, ever felt so at home before ✞

Your parents had a long list of rules that dictated every waking moment of your house. Rules that told you what to wear, what to eat, what to read, what to watch, who to spend time with. But one rule that had never even been added to the list was “no boys in the house”. It had never been necessary before, no boys at all was the general and, always upheld, rule for you and your sisters. Telling you not to allow them in the house didn’t even seem like a possibility to your parents and probably never would’ve seemed like a possibility to you if you hadn’t met JJ.

Timothy left on the weekend, promising to be back for your birthday in a month, and your parents left the day after, headed to South Carolina for a couples’ church retreat that your father was guest lecturing at. You had convinced your father, before you had even met JJ, that you could stay alone for the short week that they would be gone. Though technically, now, you weren’t alone.

“Okay, we’re starting with the basics.” JJ announced, carrying a bowl of popcorn and two sodas into the living room, setting them down on the coffee table. You were sitting on the couch, blanket wrapped around your body, a baggy t-shirt serving as clothing because you didn’t want to wear a dress but didn’t have any pajama pants or shorts to wear.

“What qualifies as ‘the basics’?” you asked, opening your blanket enough that JJ could get underneath with you, pulling your legs over his lap. He’d borrowed Pope’s laptop to watch movies with you, since your parents didn’t own any sort of technology, television included. Your parents had phones and there was a landline but that was about as far as it went.

“Disney movies, even I’ve seen disney movies.” JJ replied, though admittedly it had been later in his childhood that he’d seen them. “We’ll start with my personal favorite...actually, not a disney movie just an animated movie, whatever...it’s called Balto.”

“Is that a dog?” You stared at the screen as JJ clicked on the icon for the movie.

“Yeah, it’s a movie about a sled dog.”

“A sled dog?” You laughed, brushing his hair back so that you could kiss him before the movie started and he shushed you to listen. Your hand went to the back of his head, your eyes on the TV as you ran your fingers through the hair at the nap of his neck, absentmindedly leaning into him more.

JJ had brought a whole backpack to your house, stuffed with clothes for the long weekend that both of you fully intended for him to spend at your house. Ever since you had mentioned the trip to JJ, and the possibility of him staying, you had been thinking of the implications of that. What expectations did he have for the week? You thought about asking him directly, or even asking Kiara or Pope, surely they would be able to tell you something about the girls that JJ dated before you.

It wasn’t like you had any illusions about them. You weren’t jealous or insecure about any of his past girlfriends, or hook-ups. John B had indicated that JJ had never really done the ‘dating thing’ before you, which had you wondering what exactly he might expect out of you before you realized that he really didn’t expect anything. But whether he’d dated anyone seriously in the past or not, and whether that should have intimidated you or not, you were fairly neutral about it. JJ was your boyfriend and he loved you, he’d said so, and you weren’t worried about anyone else.

“You know I’ve never watched a cartoon before?” You chanced mentioning, whispering the words to him as the dog on screen talked. There were a lot of things you hadn’t done before meeting JJ.

Some things you weren’t interested in. The smoking didn’t bother you but you had no desire to try it, you’d given beer one go at a party that JJ snuck you out to but it tasted disgusting and you had nearly spit it back out. You’d tried soda and coffee and fast food and a slurpee from the 7-11 near the pawn shop. You wore jeans and a dress that was far more revealing that you’d ever considered a dress could be, and a bathing suit. You had let Kiara do your makeup and you liked it but weren’t terribly interested in doing it again. There were physical things too, just sitting next to JJ was something you had never done before, let alone kissing him.

You thought about sex but hadn’t mentioned it to JJ, unsure if you should. The only sex talk you’d ever gotten from your mom had been when she told you that premarital sex was the ultimate sin and women who engaged in it ended up with unwanted babies. The basic understanding you’d come away with was that sex was intended simply to produce children for your family and to keep your husband happy and that he would, inevitably, guide you through it. You had trouble imagining Timothy guiding you through anything even remotely intimate.

It wasn’t that you didn’t feel comfortable bringing up the subject to JJ it was just that you weren’t sure you were supposed to. You’d thought about asking Kiara but then felt kind of embarrassed about it, would she understand or think it was lame that you were asking about sex with her best friend. You weren’t even sure you were ready to have sex with him, whatever ready meant.

“You okay?” JJ asked, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, “you kinda zoned out.” He’d answered you about the cartoon thing but when you said nothing else he’d looked over, only to find you staring at the TV almost trance like.

“Just thinking.” You replied. He had put the movie on cause it was his favorite and you wanted to watch it with him but you couldn’t help your mind from going haywire the longer you sat there.

“Anything you wanna share with the class?” JJ asked, tucking the blanket around you more when you leaned into him.

“I don’t know,” you really weren’t sure. You assumed, figured, he must know that you’d never had sex. It had to have crossed his mind at least once. Was he waiting for you to mention it to him? Was he just waiting to mention it or was he uninterested?

JJ nodded slowly, tilting his head down to press a kiss against your collar where the large shirt had slipped to one side. You look at the TV screen, absentmindedly worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. JJ’s hand on your thigh returned some sense of gravity to you, drawing your attention away from Balto’s quest and back toward your boyfriend who was watching you with the sweetest blue eyes you’d ever seen.

“What do you think about us having sex?” You asked suddenly, the overwhelming urge to confront the elephant in your head making you blurt out the first thing that came to mind.

To his benefit, JJ looked somewhat startled by the question. It wasn’t one anyone had ever asked him before. He’d dated before and definitely had sex before, but he’d never had an actual conversation about it, not like that. “I uh, did you want to?” JJ asked, clearing his throat a little uncomfortably. He wasn’t completely sure what to say. He had definitely thought about having sex with you, he spent a lot of time thinking about you.

“I don’t know...” you repeated, shrugging. “My mom told me having sex before marriage was evil. But she says that about kissing too.” You replied, pressing a kiss to his lips as an example.

“I don’t know about evil,” he laughed, “John B’s a little more sentimental than me when it comes to sex but...I mean, you shouldn’t do anything you don’t want to.”

“I’m not really sure if I want to or not, I don’t have any experience...” you admitted, “it’s easy, with small stuff like soda and pants but, it’s harder to separate what I believe with what my parents believe when it’s stuff like that. I spent so many years being told that sex is something sacred for a husband and wife but...I don’t know if that’s something I truly believe.”

JJ leaned his forehead against yours, kissing your cheek. “I would never, ever do anything you didn’t want to.”

“I know that.” You replied. “Sorry for ruining Balto.”

“That’s okay, now whenever I watch it, I’ll just think of you wanting to have sex with me.” JJ teased, squeezing your leg just above your knee and making you laugh. You pressed a kiss to JJ’s neck, hiding your face so he couldn’t see you.

“I love you.” You mumbled, lips brushing against his skin as you spoke.

He tightened his grip on your waist, pulling you as close to him as he could, practically onto his lap as he kissed your forehead, “I love you too.” He replied.

You practically jumped off his lap when a knock sounded on the kitchen door, “shoot,” you huffed, closing the laptop as JJ stood up.

“Who is it?” He asked, already grabbing the soda bottles and popcorn.

“It’s Josiah. He promised my dad he would stop over and check on me.” You explained, keeping your voice down as you grabbed a skirt from the laundry off the kitchen, pulling it up, “go in my room.”

“They sent your brother over? I can’t believe your parents’ don’t trust you.”

“I literally have a boy in the house!” You whispered, shoving him down the hall toward your room.

The minute you heard your bedroom door shut you went to the kitchen, letting Josiah in, “sorry, I had the door locked,” you said, hugging your brother as he stepped through the door.

“That’s alright, I forgot my key anyway. What’re you up to?” He asked, walking further into the house.

“Laundry, mostly, I finished some homework for mom.” You shrugged, crossing your arms under your chest and glancing down the hall. “So yeah, just hanging out.”

“Man, it’s so quiet here without anyone else.” Josiah commented, “used to be loud no matter what.”

“Oh yeah, but that was all Eli and Robert.” You replied, “I was always an angel.”

He laughed, “yeah sure.”

Josiah hung around for close to an hour, helping himself to left-over dinner in the fridge and talking about his kids with you, before he finally decided that it was getting late and that you were okay to spend the rest of the night by yourself. By that point you were almost 100% positive that JJ had probably skipped out. You would’ve definitely skipped out if you had to spend an hour sitting in someone’s bedroom while they talked about kids with their older brother. Once you’d locked the door behind your brother you headed to your room, expecting to find it empty. Instead, JJ was sitting there on the top bunk of the beds, reading your KJV bible.

“You really love that top bunk huh?” You laughed, closing your bedroom door behind you.

“Absolutely.” He replied, “this stuff is crazy, by the way.”

“King James is...difficult to understand.” You said, pulling off the skirt you’d put on when Josiah got there and climbing up the ladder to the bunk bed. “I’m not sleeping up here with you, by the way. I have a perfectly good bed down there.”

He smiled, leaning over to kiss you, “I’m staying over?”

“You told me you were staying over, don’t act like it’s a surprise.” You laughed, nudging his side.

JJ held the book on his lap, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you against him. He set his chin on your shoulder, pushing the book over so that you could see it to. “Here, explain this shit to me.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to call the bible shit.” You said, turning your head so you could kiss him. “I like this.”

“Sitting on the top bunk?” JJ asked.

You rolled your eyes, “I mean, getting to spend time with you like this. Not having to worry about my parents or anything.”

“We should keep doing this.” he replied, “my dad’s got a boat, the Phantom...I’m gonna take it after graduation and head down the coast. You should come with me.”

“Leave? Everything?” You asked. There were only two options and you had known that since you started to develop feelings for JJ. You could break ties with your family and hope that this thing with JJ was real enough to survive or you could walk away from him and marry Timothy and move to Nashville.

“I know it’s a...a lot.” JJ said, “but I just want you to be happy.”

“I am, right now.”

“Think about it. We could figure things out, find work somewhere.” He suggested, kissing your shoulder.

You smiled, leaning into him more but not replying. Your gut reaction was to agree immediately, say that you wanted to go with him anywhere but you didn’t want to rush into anything. This week would be enough for right now.

Taglist: @heavenlymama @vindictive-hearts @alexa-playafricabytoto @dontjinx-it @randomficsandshit @niamhobrien @strangerthanfanfiction713 @tovvaa @freckled-and-daydreaming @harleylynn @bibliophilewednesday @dpaccione @bolaurel @poguestyleskye @beautyandthebleh @under-a-canyon-moon @stevie-buck @bijleegiregi @vitaminekabc @minigranger @teamnick @just-smile-darling @obxsummer @damonsalvawhore27 @isqbella @tomzfrog @fangirlvoice @phantompogues @98starkeys @ilovejjmaybank @lemur46 @khiaraaa-in-spacee @babygal-babygal @niya-savage @divvrx @princess-of-the-fandoms @thecaptainsgingersnap @jenjie @yourprincess-maybe @wowmaybankk @outrbanks @mendesmaybank @thehomeiknow @minnie-bby @katiaw2 @2kayla64

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joheun-saram · 4 years

Text

To Make a Power Couple (knj) | 04

Chapter 4: Cigarette Confetti

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Summary- Y/N and Namjoon get closer as their relationship develops. Also, Y/N suddenly gets too many instagram followers

word count- 8.6k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- R

genre- series, slow burn, fluff, smut, strangers2lovers

warnings- unwanted sexual advances, discussion of mindset post unwanted advances, alcohol consumption, oral sex (m. receiving), hickeys

a.n- okay so this chapter is finally done! Thank you for your patience!! It took me a long time to write the scene with Mr Li because I had to pull from my own experience and that was uncomfy - but I hope you like it. Also, there’s a time skip so keep an eye out for that. Also also, can I just say I love writing this character of Namjoon lol this character is my ideal boyfriend material LMFAO.

Hey Alexa, can you fall in love with your own fictional character? Asking for a friend. Thanks.

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @sassyuniversitytacopeanut, @rjsmochii, @jinjccns, @joyful-jimin

Good morning, Y/N. Today you have four appointments on your calendar. Your first three appointments are as follows. At 7:30am, you have “Morning stand up with Harry (Cancelled)”, at 12:00pm, you have “Jiyoung Gala Update Lunch”, at 2:00pm, you have “Quarterly Sales Meeting”. The weather in Seoul today is 24 degrees and cloudy. Playing BTS on Spotify.

Namjoon wakes up with a start, Jimin’s airy vocals flowing through the room. He’s confused as to why someone in the dorm was playing their old album. About to scream at whoever (probably Taehyung) was playing the music, he opens his eyes to find your face next to his. It takes him a few seconds to realize where he is, and his face breaks into a goofy grin as he recalls the events of the night before. His arm was numb where you lay on it, your arms around his waist, legs tangled together and he traced his fingers on your side in an effort to wake you up.

He could see you stir as you groggily opened your eyes, looking up at him with a smile that made his heart race. He reached to stroke your face, as you hummed an apology and politely asked your alarm to be quiet. Seems that you were nice even to your robots.

“Sorry about that. Work day, you know?” you shrugged as you snuggled closer. Namjoon couldn’t help chuckle as you yawned into his bare chest that erupted in goosebumps at the sensation. He gently pulled your chin towards him to kiss you good morning. Your face was puffy with sleep, your cheeks squished where they lay on the pillows, and watching you was so adorable that he wanted to wake up next to you everyday.

“You play my music in the morning?” He was elated. Just like the night you met when you accidentally sang him his song, he felt his heart soar. The fact that you woke up everyday to the words he wrote made him not only happy but oddly motivated. It was like he wanted to just run out of bed and write another album so you could have more music to wake up to.

He watched your face turn red at his comment and he couldn’t help but capture your lips in another lazy kiss, his hand soothingly circling your back under your t-shirt, well, his t-shirt. He wanted you to know that there was nothing to be embarrassed by. If only you knew how his heart raced at the discovery.

“That… that’s for research… you know to get to know you?” you were stumbling over your words and he couldn’t help but pull you closer. You were so cute when you were bashful.

“Mhmm... sure...” He hummed, amused. Hey, just because he didn’t want you to feel awkward doesn’t mean that he couldn’t still tease you.

“Okay fine. I like your music okay? You’ve converted me to your cult.” You huffed, pouting your lips, and Namjoon burst out laughing.

“What’s your favourite song?”

“Is this a test?” You looked incredulous, as you looked up at him from the crook of his shoulder. Your hands were resting on his chest, and everywhere your fingers traced their aimless patterns left behind warmth under his skin.

“Hmm.. yes. You better get it right.” It wasn’t really a test, but Namjoon would be lying if he said he wasn’t incredibly curious as to which song caught your eye.

“Can I google it?”

“Wait… you’re gonna google… what your favourite song is?” He had not expected this answer. He felt himself deflate a little, his smiling falling. He supposed you were a new fan, maybe you didn’t remember the title and wanted to look up the lyrics, but you could just ask him, he’d know better than google, surely.

“Yes. I’m gonna google which song you didn’t write and say that one cause your ego is getting too big for this bed.” You booped his nose as you burst out laughing, and he couldn’t stop himself from joining along, his earlier worries disappearing. You always surprised him, and it makes him crave what you’ll say next.

“You’re so evil!” he teased as he tickled your sides, making you laugh and roll around your bed. After a few minutes of your protests, he stopped, now positioned over you. Your eyes were beautiful as they look up at his, tears of mirth lining the corners and breathless from your laughter, and he couldn’t help but kiss you again, molding his lips to your soft ones. He loved that your arms automatically went around his waist as you pulled him closer and deepen the kiss, tracing your tongue with his. He kissed you like that for a few minutes, just relishing being in your presence. Your hands were resting on his chest now, thumbs grazing his nipples, making him shudder. It’s like everytime he kissed you, you put him under a spell and he wanted nothing more than to consume you. How was it that you smell like vanilla and flowers even in the morning? Did you just naturally smell like a fresh garden?

“Good morning” He whispered between his kisses, gazing at you softly.

“Good morning” you responded before closing the distance again and kissing him with passion. He could get used to this.

His hand moved under your shirt to cup your chest, rolling your nipple playfully as he continued to kiss you. Your moan went straight from your lips to his dick as he couldn’t help but roll his hips against yours, craving the friction. Your hands went from his chest to palming him over his boxers and the touch made him groan. He was so incredibly turned on and you had barely even touched him. You were going to be the death of him.

He let you carry on your ministrations as he kissed your neck, enjoying your mewls as he reached what he has realized is your sensitive spot, right where your neck meets your shoulder. He could see the marks he left last night and couldn’t help the pride swelling in his chest. He shouldn’t be so turned on by the bruises he left, but he can’t help his kinks. It proved to him that he didn’t imagine last night.

He was slightly taken aback as you slipped your hand in his underwear and started stroking him. He moaned against your neck as pleasure shot through him.

“Want to make you feel good.” you murmured next to his ear, your kisses on his neck making him flush. “Lay back…” He wanted to let you but he wanted to make you feel good first, hear you screaming his name as he made you come undone. He one upped you by placing his own hand in your panties, groaning at how wet you were for him.

“You first.” He said, more sternly than he intended but he didn’t notice as you rut your hips against his hand. Your hand didn’t stopped stroking him and if he was honest it was making him lose his concentration. He removed his hand from your underwear, ignoring your whines, as he stilled your hand, pinning it over your head.

“No… I wanna taste you… Please?” You looked at him with your eyes wide and he was powerless to your pleading. He held his ground though, not letting you take control. Not until you mewled another please and pushed against his chest. He laid back against the pillows as you straddled him, kissing him deeply before making your way down his body. You kissed his chest leaving a light mark near his heart that made him sigh. He was sure that mark was deeper than it looks as his heart beat faster the closer you get to his dick. You kissed his belly before kissing down his clothed length making him groan deeply.

“Baby, stop teasing before I make you stop.” He was testing the waters, grinning when he saw you sit up immediately, biting your lip before pulling his boxers down to his thighs, following his orders. He hissed as you kissed his throbbing head, before immediately taking him in your mouth. It felt unbelievably good, your soft tongue lapping at his length as your cheeks hollow. He couldn’t take his eyes off you and almost lost it when you looked straight in his eyes, taking him as deep as you can. You moaned around him and the sensation made heat travel through his body. His hand found purchase in your hair as you bobbed on him, making him grunt loudly, losing his senses as he guided your head at a pace of his liking.

“Stop Y/N… stop… I’m gonna cum…” He moaned as he pulled your hair, a little too aggressively, making you whine around him. You released him with a loud pop.

“Cum in my mouth, baby” you were smirking at him as if you knew the effect you were having on him. Of course you knew, it was obvious by how loud he was breathing. His cock twitched in your hand at your comment, and he decided to let you have your fun, mentally noting to make you beg for him next time.

“Oh fuck… You’re so good to me baby” he panted as you once again started sucking him off. You were more enthusiastic this time, the sounds of your mouth ricocheting off the walls as you sucked him while your hand played with his balls, cupping them, making him see stars. He couldn’t take it anymore and with a loud grunt, he announced his end and felt his balls draining into your mouth. He watched from under his arm that rested on top of his face as you swallowed him, licking the remains off him as if he was the best popsicle you’ve tasted. It made him lose his mind, the sight making him moan softly.

You made your way back to him and as you laid on the pillows with a satisfied grin, he kissed you slowly, making sure you could feel his gratitude for what may have been the best blowjob he’s experienced.

“Sorry if I pulled your hair too hard.” He apologized as he stroked your head gently, one hand cupping your face.

“Don’t worry about it. I like it rough.” Although he had literally just cum, he felt the blood rush downwards again at your words.

“Fuck… You’re gonna kill me, you know?” He said as he kissed you again, fiercely, his hands ripping your panties off, relishing your gasp. He was determined to make you cum.

And he did, twice, once in bed and once in the shower.

As you were getting dressed in front of the mirror in your closet, he heard you gasp.

“Oh my god Joon! What the fuck?” Worriedly, he entered the closet, his jeans half undone and looked at you dressed in your pants and bra staring at yourself.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asked, as he moved closer to you.

“You animal! There’s like no concealer in the world to cover these!” You frowned, your mouth turning into a cute pout as you poke the hickeys that litter your neck and chest. He couldn’t help but smile at his handiwork as he hugged your waist from behind placing his head on your shoulder and kissing the mark on your neck.

“I’m sorry baby” His face however has no trace of apology as he grinned against your skin, feeling the blush that started at your neck.

“Fuck… I hate turtlenecks” you turned around in his arms, your hands going around his neck as you pouted at him exaggeratedly, and he wanted to go for another round. The power you had over him was overwhelming.

“I bet you look really good in a turtleneck.” He captured your lips in a soft kiss, smiling against your lips. He knew both of you had to get back to the real world soon but he just wanted to hole up in your room all day, all week, all year, just ravishing you.

You were interrupted by your phone ringing as you answered it on a speaker that rings through somewhere in your closet. He really has to ask you how many speakers you have in this place sometime.

“Hi, this is Y/N.” You spoke, your voice cold and formal and he was kind of taken aback by the change of your tone as you pushed his lips off your shoulder gently, still encircled in each other’s arms.

“Y/N! Are you okay? It’s 7:25… You’re never late!” He heard a familiar voice through the speaker although he couldn’t quite place it.

“Sorry Siwon! I’m feeling a bit unwell. I’m going to work from home this morning. I’ll come by around lunch for the meeting with Jiyoung though!” He brightened up at that comment, his grip around your waist tightening at the prospect of more time with you.

“Sick? Sure, sure… Tell Namjoon I said hi!” He watched your jaw drop as you awkwardly started coughing involuntarily. He kneould he shouldn’t but he can’t help tease you as a “Hey, man” escaped his lips, making you swat at him, signalling him to shut up.

“Oh shit. Am I on speaker?” Siwon audibly gasped into the phone and Namjoon burst out laughing, enjoying your reaction as you quickly bid goodbye.

“Okay, no coffee for you!” You huffed as you put on a t-shirt and make your way to the kitchen.

“Aww… babe!” Namjoon whined as he followed you, tugging his own shirt on to find you pouring steaming coffee into your mug. “Wait how did you make that so quick?”

He watched you smirk as you sipped on your coffee, making a show of how delicious it was, before you relented and pour him one.

“Magic.” You said smugly and he made a mental note to get you to teach him your tricks for his own house.

After breakfast, you spent the morning snuggling on the couch and reading the news, the easy domesticity of the moment not lost on Namjoon. Usually he wouldn’t even stay the night, but it seems like you made him break all the rules without even trying. He wondered why that was, why he was so drawn to you in such a short time. No one he had been with in the past made him feel this way, at least not only a week into knowing them.

“What are you thinking about?” you broke him out of his reverie. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring across the room. He didn’t know how much time had passed.

“This…” He gestured between the two of you, watching your eyes follow his hand from where your head rested against his chest.

“What? You’ve never read the news before?” You pointed at the iPad that the two you were meant to be reading from.

“You know what I mean…” He trailed off rubbing his neck, unsure why he even began the conversation. He should’ve just lied and said something funny.

“Sorry… I tend to use humour when I’m uncomfortable...” You got up from where you were leaning against him to sit upright on the couch, gaze averted.

“You’re uncomfortable?” His eyes widened as he tried to figure out why. Sure this all seemed to move way too fast, but you seemed to have found a rhythm with him this morning. He was slightly panicked that he had misread that. The thought that being around him made you uncomfortable made his heart drop to his knees.

“No… and that makes me uncomfortable” He watched you as you fiddled with the rips in your jeans. Your answer made him relax, pushing aside some of his worries. Knowing that he wasn’t the only one feeling lost with this new found comfort was oddly calming.

“I know what you mean. This seems… too easy, right?” He reached over to stop your fidgeting hands.

“Yeah… but I’m no expert. My last relationship was like three years ago” You shrugged.

“What happened? I mean… if you want to tell me”

“Yeah… it just didn’t work out. I was too busy for him sometimes and he couldn’t understand. He blamed me for not prioritizing our relationship. I was just starting out though… it was… hard” Your smiled at him sheepishly, a little melancholy behind your eyes, that made him want to hug it away.

“I get that. I had a lot of relationships that ended up the same way.” He thought about all his past partners, all the fights that led to nowhere because he couldn’t find time in his schedule to even resolve them. All the times he would receive an angry text and not be able to respond till hours later which only exacerbated the problems. All his exes that told him he was too self-centered, too narcissistic for focusing on his career, and for a long time he believed them, the guilt kept him up nights on end.

“Koren dating is also harder than Canadian dating,” you joked. He could sense you were trying to lighten the mood again, and he intertwined your fingers where they rested on your knee, before playing along.

“Wow… did you just stereotype my entire country?”

“Oops?” You chuckled lightly, your eyes brightening as you shrugged. “What about your last relationship?”

“It was about a year ago. We worked together, but we didn’t work together. There wasn’t really a reason. It just kind of… fizzled out. Although I think I was to blame.” He didn’t know how you’d react to this and he rubbed his neck nervously.

“Why do you say that?” You leaned closer, and he could surprisingly feel his nerves melting away at your proximity.

“I just would forget to keep her updated on my life. I know it sounds terrible.”

“Nah. It just sounds human. You weren’t in love.” His eyes widened at your response. He knew now that what he felt then wasn’t love but in the moment he had thought she was the one. Well, until she wasn’t.

“I thought I was” He admitted with a shrug.

“I don’t think you’d forget her if you were.” You were looking at him now, smiling slightly, your eyes shining as your thumb rubbed soothing circles on his. Somehow again, you had managed to sound poetic without meaning to - he didn’t know how you managed to do that so easily.

“I guess you’re right. Fuck… this is weird.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not usually this honest.”

“Wow. Must be the veritaserum I slipped in your drink.” You laughed as you reached to gently put your hand on his shoulder. He enjoyed the touch, it somehow made him feel safe. Safe to share his secrets.

“Is that a Harry Potter reference, you dork?” He could feel the mood lightening again and he realized that your ability to seamlessly switch from uncomfortable topics to humour was at least a part of the reason he felt so comfortable in your presence.

“I’m glad you trust me enough to be honest.” Your hand moved from his shoulder to rest against his cheek, and he couldn’t help but lean into it.

“Honestly, I think it’s because of you.” He watched your face turn to confusion, so he continued. ”You being so upfront makes me wanna do the same. Why are you so honest with me?”

“Because there’s no reason for us to continue this if we can’t be honest.” You smiled softly as you shrugged lightly, still stroking his cheek, and he felt his heart fill with warmth. “I’ve spent too much of my life pretending to be someone else for people to like me. So I’m testing my theory. If I’m honest with you and you like me, maybe this thing is worth it.”

“I do like you.” He really did. He hadn’t felt this strong a connection in a while. Someone who understood him without pretending to, or trying to appease him. Someone he could talk about the good and bad without judgement.

“You haven’t seen all the warts yet.” You averted your gaze, and he couldn’t help but cup your face and make you look at him.

“I’ve seen you naked, you don’t have any warts.” He tried your approach at humour as he kissed you on the nose.

“You are so cheesy!” You swat at him gently before kissing him lightly on the lips. He felt his heart skip a beat at the small gesture. “But seriously, thank you for being so open with me.” You looked at him adoringly, and he mirrored you.

He kissed you at that. Both of you enjoying the chaste kiss without deepening it. The conversation helped you both feel less uncomfortable with the comfortable.

His phone rang, interrupting the sweet moment, his manager asking where to send the car so he wouldn’t be late for the meeting that morning. Before leaving, you made plans to meet up again that weekend, and Namjoon felt that three days was too long without seeing you. He didn’t know why, but he hadn’t even left your apartment yet and he already missed you.

----------------------------------------

When you reached the restaurant for lunch with Jiyoung that afternoon, you still had a smile on your face. It seemed to have been permanently etched on your face since Namjoon left. You thought about your date and how it seemed to have been a thousand dates rolled into one. It felt like you’ve known him forever, and barring from Jiyoung, you hadn’t felt that way about a person before. Someone you connected with instantly, someone whose presence made you immediately calmer. He seemed to have crashed all the walls around you in a very short time and although that thought should scare you, it instead made you excited.

Spotting Jiyoung at a table you made your way across the restaurant to her, greeting her and the server, an old woman in her 60s, most likely the owner, that seemed to have appeared out of thin air. After ordering your entrees, your best friend and PR manager jumped right into business.

“So you’re famous. Congrats!” She did a little dance as she announced the news.

“What?” You were confused. Last you checked you had 2000 followers on your social media, which was run by Jiyoung and Siwon, on account of you being a “boomer” - their words, not yours.

“After the gala, a couple of magazines, courtesy of me, decided to do a piece on you. So congrats on your 200k followers!” She seemed giddy, excitedly jumping up and down as she clapped along. That was quite a follower growth and it led to her going into a twenty minute strategy talk on how to leverage your personal brand for the company. You were glad that she was excited, but if you were being honest you hated the limelight. The idea that someone’s “fame” could be decided by the number of likes of a photo posing at a restaurant made your skin crawl.

“Okay so we’re going to schedule a photoshoot sometime in the next two weeks and take a few photos for the next few months of uploads. Of course, make sure to take photos every time you go somewhere fun too, like I don’t know, one of your concerts you’re obsessed with or art galleries.” Jiyoung continued regardless of your groans.

“Do I have to?” You truly did not have time for this, your schedule is already overflowing. The whole idea of curating a feed made you feel stressed.

“Yes. It’s the game, Y/N. You have to play it” She replied sagely, as she slurped her noodles.

“You know all the photos will be of me holed up at the office. I’m not that interesting...” You played with your food as you pouted. Your comment wasn’t born out of low self-esteem, it’s just what you believed. Regardless of the media perceptions of the glamorous life of a CEO, you knew that at the end of the day most you did was sleep, attend meetings, and drink copious amounts of coffee. Occasionally you dabbled in your hobbies, but with the company and non-profit growing at the speed they were, there was barely any time for that. You doubted you’d be able to enjoy any of the fun till after quite a few more years when the title will become less heavy and you’d have more help.

“Don’t be stupid! You, my friend, are a young, fun, single woman! The world deserves to be envious of it!” Jiyoung dismissed you easily, shaking her hand at your protests. “Speaking of fun, let’s go clubbing Saturday, it’s been too long since you got laid.”

As soon as she finished her sentence you felt heat rise up your face, unconsciously bringing your hand up to your turtleneck covered neck. To make matters worse, your throat also decided now to work at that moment, making you choke on your rice.

“Oh my god! You minx! You got laid didn’t you?” Jiyoung loudly exclaimed, much to your dismay and of the other patrons who seemed peeved at hearing your bedroom adventures while they ate lunch.

“Please stop…” You looked around awkwardly apologizing to the old man next to you who looked at you with disgust. Great!

“Who was it? Where did you meet? Tinder? Did you go to a club without me? Was it a client?” The questions were endless.

“If I tell you, you can’t tell anyone, not a soul.” You were going to regret this, you knew it, but you’d be lying if it didn’t excite you to share the news with Jiyoung. She was your favourite female friend and even though on the outside, your friendship may seem mismatched to some, she truly understood you better than most people. She had been there when your last relationship ended, coaxing you back to your feet after weeks of self-destruction. You trusted her.

“Did you sleep with a married man?” She whispered, thankfully finally aware that you two were in the middle of a popular restaurant during peak lunch hours.

“Umm… no. Do you remember Namjoon from the party?” Namjoon from the party? Good job, real subtle Y/N.

“Namjoon?” You watched as realization dawned on her face, her face going from being scrunched in confusion, to wide eyed surprise, to what it is now; a smug smile. “I was wondering why your Spotify showed you suddenly listening to BTS…”

“Okay you can’t make fun of that too!” you whined, your morning faux pas still too fresh in your mind, as you buried your face in your hands.

“He made fun of you?” Jiyoung was cackling, before she started digging for details. “Man after my own soul! So was he good? When are you seeing him again? Are you dating him? Oh my god this is so exciting!” She is fully squealing and slapping your arm, making you wince.

“He was… amazing” you tell her your face flaring at the memories of last night. “And we’re going on another date.”

“Ooo date number two!”

“Well… technically four if you count the party?”

“Okay. What the fuck? You’ve been holding out on me! Spill!”

And so you do, sharing your interactions with Namjoon over the past week. It felt nice to reminisce about them, even though it was not that long ago. You were so into him, it was worrying. You were beyond excited to see him again, but your last conversation still weighed in your head. He was right. It just felt too easy, how you had met, and seemingly couldn’t get enough of each other. You were suspicious.

“Stop overthinking this, Y/N. It’s good that things are easy! You deserve easy!” Jiyoung cut through your rant. You had almost forgotten that you were speaking out loud.

“It’s not just me, he feels the same way.” You pouted, trying to defend your stance.

“Then you both belong together with your stupid ass overthinking.”

--------------------------------------------------

Y/N: Thanks for dinner tonight. I had a really good time.

Namjoon: Me too!

Namjoon: Speaking of, when can I see you again?

Y/N: Wow. We’ve barely digested our food, Joon

Namjoon: You’re mean! I just like hanging out with you

Y/N: I’m kidding! Tuesday?

Namjoon: Suddenly I love Tuesdays

Y/N: Shut up you dork!

Namjoon: Says the girl obsessed with Batman

--------------------------------------------------

Y/N: What the hell! How do you do photoshoots all the time. This is CRINGE.

Namjoon: Is that today? Yes! SEND ME THE PICTURES!!!!

Y/N: Fuck no. These are so awkward!

Namjoon: Come on! Send! I bet you look hot ;)

Y/N: Nope. Never. Never. NEVER.

Namjoon: I’ll just text Jiyoung for them

Y/N: You don’t even have her number

Y/N: Do you?

Y/N: KIM NAMJOON ANSWER ME

--------------------------------------------------

Namjoon: Did I leave my phone at your place last night?

Y/N: I don't think so

Namjoon: I can’t believe I lost my phone again!!!

Y/N: Wait how are you texting me right now?

Namjoon: … nvm

Y/N: Omg. You're an idiot.

--------------------------------------------------

Y/N: Okay that hike was harder than you said it’d be!

Y/N: I’m dying :(

Namjoon: Aw baby. I’m sorry!

Y/N: You owe me. You’re paying for my masseuse

Namjoon: Why pay for one when I’m better than any you’ll ever get?

--------------------------------------------------

Y/N: I miss you :(

Namjoon: I miss you too

Y/N: Come over?

Namjoon: I have to wake up at 6 for a shoot :(

Y/N: I wake up at 6 every day

Namjoon: On my way

--------------------------------------------------

Namjoon: How’s work going?

Y/N: Terrible :) I hate my life :)

Namjoon: You’re scary when you send emojis like that

Y/N: Wow. Thank you. You’re so nice to me.

Namjoon: Sorry!

Namjoon: What’s stressing you?

Y/N: Just deadlines… SO MANY DEADLINES

Namjoon: Aw baby. Have you eaten? I can come by with food

Y/N: Aren’t you busy? You have your comeback in a few months

Namjoon: Nah. I got the rest of the day off

Y/N: That’s… suspicious... Why?

Namjoon: I’m at the hospital

Y/N: WTF. I’m calling. Pick up.

--------------------------------------------------

You checked yourself out in the reflective elevator doors, as you helped Harry adjust his tie, while Siwon rattled on about the restaurant you were headed to. Harry and you had been dodging your “celebratory” drinks with Mr Li for over a month and a half since the meeting where he signed the contract. He finally trapped you both during a networking event last week and had you set the date. To say you were both very much not looking forward to this evening would be an understatement. It took every ounce of willpower in you to stay as you made your way to your private table at the high end Japanese restaurant.

Mr Li, as per usual, was late to the dinner he had forced upon you. Sitting next to Harry, you both tried to devise a plan to escape as soon as possible. As soon as dinner ended, Harry was going to pretend that Jen was ill and since he was your ride back, you both had no choice but to “begrudgingly” end the night. The idea was foolproof, or so the both of you thought.

Here is a list of reasons why it was not foolproof.

One, upon arrival, Mr Li ordered shots for the table and after Harry used the excuse that he was driving you both home (you wanted to set it up so it wouldn’t be a surprise as you left), Mr Li got excited that you would be his new drinking buddy. He poured shot after shot, even after you mentioned that you were going to get a drink - hoping to rely on your ice tea in a whiskey glass trick - he refused to let you not drink anything other than shots of sake. Usually, you wouldn’t let someone dictate your drinking but you didn’t want to seem rude, and so you played along till you felt much too tipsy.

Two, Mr Li requested your server to stagger the dinner courses since it was a “night of partying” and as the third course of sashimi was served, he took the liberty of sitting next to you because apparently your fish looked fresher. He then proceeded to steal from your plate while making uncomfortable eye contact with you and putting his gross hands on your thigh. When you removed his hand from your thigh he had the audacity to suggest that you were playing hard to get. The urge to vomit had never been stronger.

Three, and this is where everything falls apart. When at the end of dinner, the lovely Jen calls to bail you and Harry out, Mr Li insists that Harry drives back alone and that he drives you home. Somehow, you both had not thought of this very basic flaw in your plan. With you running out of excuses, it was soon evident that you had no choice but to stay. You knew Harry, and you knew that he would call no less than ten minutes later with an emergency on your own or get Siwon out of bed to run to you. He would rescue you, you had faith. In the meantime you had to endure a drunk Mr Li trying to hit on you.

Time seemed to move slow as he drunkenly asked you if you had a boyfriend. Knowing his misogynistic self, you should’ve lied and said yes, the only thing he would probably understand would be that another man had a claim on you, but your tipsy self thought honesty was the best policy. As soon as you said no, it seemed that he took it as an invite, pulling you into an awkward hug, grabbing at your ass, trying to lift you to his seat. His movements were so swift that it left you momentarily paralyzed. You felt ice in your veins as the intense feeling of your personal space being so blatantly violated took over you. It felt as if a million ants were crawling under your skin, your stomach turning. You tried to get out of his grip but it was too strong, as he continued to massage your behind. You felt trapped, your mouth running dry, as anger took over. You were done being polite.

With a strong shove, you stood up from your seat and grabbed your jacket as you looked at him straight in the eye, hoping your glare was enough to get the message across. It was not.

“Come on Y/N. I signed such a big contract for you the least you could do is suck me off.” He stared at you sleazily, the liver spot above his eyebrow moving up and down as he wagged them.

“I’m sorry Mr Li, but this is very inappropriate. I’m going to leave.” You were nicer than your instincts were telling you to be. If he wasn’t your client, you would have already kicked him in the balls or better yet broken his nose, although knowing this creep, he’d probably have a kink for it.

“You’re a fucking bitch you know that?” He spat, his words filled with venom.

“Excuse me?” Each moment that you stayed in this room, made you angrier, the rage pumping itself through you, ringing in your ears.

“You think you’re successful because you’re smart? Don’t kid yourself, Y/N. Everyone knows that your clients only sign because they think you’ll fuck them.” He scoffed.

You knew if you stayed there longer, you would surely ruin this contract for your company, if not get sued for punching his ugly little face in so you grabbed your phone and bag and made your way out of the restaurant, tossing a curt goodbye his way.

Your vision was dark as you made your way through the streets. You were so enraged you were shaking. You knew what would fix this. Cigarettes. Without a second thought you made your way into the nearest convenience store, grabbing a bottle of soju and a pack, before walking to your favourite place - the rooftop of your office building.

--------------------------------------------------

You sat at the roof, contemplating the earlier events, the cigarette pack in hand. You hated how you felt in this moment. Powerless. There was no other word for it. You hated feeling small and insignificant. You had built your life up in a way that ensured you wouldn’t have to deal with these feelings but here you were at almost midnight, searching the faint stars in the sky for serenity.

Anger coursed through your veins as you tried to steel yourself, fists clenching hard enough for red semicircles to be engraved on your palms. Sometimes you hated being a woman. What gave anyone the right to dismiss your hard work and accomplishments because they valued your tits more. You were coursing with negativity, your mouth tasting of poison, as you chugged the soju. You still felt his slimy hands on your ass and his words echoed through your mind. If only your deal was not at stake you would’ve kicked him so hard in the balls, he’d never be able to reproduce. The world is much too beautiful to have his offsprings tainting it.

You usually don’t let these things affect you as much. It’d be a lie to say these moments were few and far in between. In fact, they took place more often than you’d like to remember. The amount of men who had dismissed you or called you being a CEO a great “marketing move in today’s PC world” was astronomical. You would usually brush them off and pretend they never happened, never letting it affect you, but something about the way he sneered made you so vulnerable that for a minute you let your guard down and believed him.

“You think you’re successful because you’re smart? Don’t kid yourself, Y/N. Everyone knows that your clients only sign because they think you’ll fuck them.” You snapped a cigarette in half, watching the contents sprinkle out of the white casing as you rolled it in your fingers and coaxed a bigger mess. You tossed it across the floor, watching the wind pick up the light scraps and scatter them around like confetti. What a great celebration, you thought as you rolled your eyes.

“Y/N…?” you heard Namjoon call from behind you.

You regretted messaging him after your dinner. You didn’t even know why you had told him. He was not your boyfriend, technically he wasn’t even your friend. You had only gone on a few dates, and although you felt closer to him than you had anybody you had dated in a long while, you were not ready for him to see you this way. It had barely been over a month and a half. You didn’t feel confident enough to face him. The Y/N he knew was the successful, flirty, witty version you had worked hard to portray. You don’t know how he would react to this self-hating mess of you. Maybe he’d run away. You deserved that much. Hell, maybe he didn’t even buy the version you showed him, only here for the tits. You were bitter.

“I’m sorry you came all this way. I’m fine, you can go home.” You couldn’t face him - not in this state. You stared at your hands, deepening the crescents on your palm as if willing the skin to break. You saw his shoes in front of you, unlaced blue Nikes, attached to blue striped pajama pants with cartoon koalas. Had you forced him to get out of bed? You felt a bubble of guilt rise within your chest. You were such a shitty person to bring him into this. He deserved better than to be on a cold rooftop on a Friday night in the middle of his comeback preparations.

You were ready to ask him leave again as you heard him settle next to you. You looked up at his face, his eyes softened with concern behind his wide rimmed glasses as he sat crossed leg, his hands in his lap. You opened the pack to grab another cigarette, snapping it in half again and tossing it half heartedly across the floor. You felt defeated, the emotional exhaustion of the night weighing on your shoulders.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked softly, his voice almost a whisper.

“I don’t know,” you said, matching his volume. There was no one here and it’s not like anyone could hear you off of this fifty storey building, but somehow you only had the strength to whisper.

“Take your time” he answered. He looked like he meant it. He sat there looking at you, giving you space. His phone buzzed a few times and he ignored it. Instead, he just patiently looked at you, his face neutral for what felt like hours.

Somehow his patience gave you courage to open up, and you told him the events of the night. He never interrupted, or even moved. The only way you’d know he was not suddenly a statue was by the way his jaw slowly tensed as you got to the reason you were so upset, all your doubts and insecurities filling the air in a tumble of fast spoken words.

“I don’t even know why this is making me so angry. It is not like this is the first time this has happened to me.” You chuckled dryly as you looked up at him. He looked angry and you felt nervous. Perhaps you shared too much. You wouldn’t blame him for getting angry at how stupid your reason was for getting him out of bed.

“What’s his name?” he asked, his eyes narrowed. You were surprised at his question. This was the first time he spoke since you started talking about twenty minutes ago.

“Why?”

“I’m going to kill him.” He said flatly, eye ablaze and jaw set.

“Joon…” you trailed, unsure what to say. He wasn’t unjustified in his threat. On your way to the roof, you yourself had devised about a thousand ways to get away with murder.

“No. He’s an asshole and I’m going to kill him for making you feel this way.” He looked less angry now, and more upset, sighing as he looked at you. You chuckled humorlessly. His comment made you feel better, made you feel less alone and stupid for wanting to take your anger out at the perpetuator. At least you’d have someone to carry the body with if you decided to act on your homicidal fantasies.

“Can I give you a hug?” He asked tentatively, his hand reached towards you as he turned looking at you closely. as if worried you might snap at him.

“Joon, you don’t have to ask,” you murmured as you scooted closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He reacted immediately, pulling you into him tightly, his chin over your head. Your face was pressed against his chest and you inhaled his woodsy scent, feeling instantly more calm.

“I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. A man touched you without your permission and I didn’t know how you felt about being close to another today.” He whispered against your hair, kissing the top of your head. Your heart instantly warmed, tears pricking your eyes. No one had ever been this considerate to you before, so respectful. The fact that he thought you might feel uncomfortable around him just because of that asshole made your heart break. You pushed out of the hug and cupped his face.

“Don’t you dare compare yourself to that asshole.” You were angry that not only did that sorry excuse for a man made you feel small, he made Namjoon feel like you wouldn’t want him.

“And don’t you dare feel like you’re not worthy because of that asshole.” He kissed your forehead gently before bringing you into another bone-crushing hug, momentarily knocking the air out of your lungs. His words made you feel warm, and brought a lump to your throat. It felt oddly cathartic to have the man you had come to admire tell you you were enough. You felt the tears you had been holding in all night escape slowly. You held him tighter as his t-shirt became your makeshift tissue, silently crying for what felt like hours while he stroked your hair gently.

When you could talk again without your voice breaking, you broke the embrace. His shirt was stained with your tears and mascara, and suddenly you felt very awkward for your blatant display of emotions.

“I’m sorry I called you here so late,” you apologized sheepishly, realizing how late it was and how silly you felt for making him jump out of bed.

“Please don’t apologize. I’m glad you called me.” He wiped your face of the tears that had failed to be absorbed by the t-shirt, smiling slightly as he leaned in to give you another peck on your forehead.

“You’re in your pajamas,” you pointed out, laughing slightly, wanting to remove some of the awkwardness you felt at having bawled in front of him for so long.

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting for too long.” He shrugged, giving you a smile that melted your heart. You had realized this before but it dawned on you again that to you Namjoon was comfort. He was like a warm blanket to cozy under in a cool room, keeping the monsters at bay.

You reached out and kissed him, slowly pulling him in by his shirt, avoiding his glasses as you tilted your head. The kiss was gentle - it was sweet and warm. Unlike the passionate ones you had shared before, ones that would light you on fire, this was comfortable, like a bonfire rather than a forest fire. His lips were chapped against yours and his tongue tasted like toothpaste as he smiled against your lips.

“You didn’t smoke!” He exclaimed when you separated, pulling you into another hug, his arms around your head. The pride in his voice made you laugh.

“I told you, I don’t smoke anymore,” you commented as you grinned against his chest.

“Then what’s the pack for?” He seemed puzzled.

“Oh… I was going to but I didn’t want to break my two year streak.” You shrugged. He beamed at you as he pulled you in for another kiss, taking his time to taste you. It felt like he was savouring you, his fingers tangled in your hair on the nape of your neck and his other hand placed gently on your waist.

When you came up for air he giggled, his forehead against yours. “I’m proud of you for not breaking your streak,” he said, making your cheeks flare at his sincerity. “Let’s get you home.”

“Do you want to walk instead of grabbing a cab?”

“Always.” He held your hand as you both stand up and make your way downstairs.

You noticed him shivering slightly as you exited the building and it finally dawned on you that he was dressed in just a t-shirt. It was not the middle of winter but it was certainly too chilly for not wearing a sweater. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt in your chest as you were currently dressed in not one but two sweaters. Stopping him, you took off your oversized sweater and handed it to him.

“What are you doing?” He looked at you, confused as you pushed the sweater in his hands.

“You seem cold.”

“That’s supposed to be my move.” He laughed.

“Hey I’m wearing like two sweaters! Plus, I feel bad about dragging you out here and forcing you to walk.” You looked at your shoes, suddenly feeling shy.

“Don’t feel bad, baby.” He lifted your chin up to place a quick peck on your lips after looking around to make sure no one's walking by on the deserted street. “Also, I don’t think this will fit me.” He chuckled, pushing his frames further up his nose.

“It’s oversized! Just try it, you’re shivering!”

“I’m an oversized human!” He exclaimed but started to put his arms through the sleeves. The sweater looked hilariously small on his frame, even with only one sleeve on. As he zipped it up, it resembled a rashguard more than a sweater, his t-shirt flaring out from the bottom, the material straining against his arms and back. The stress of the night washed away as you doubled over in laughter, your face streaking with new joyous tears at the sight.

“See I told you it was too small!” He grinned sheepishly.

“This is amazing, you look great Joonie” you managed to wheeze out in between your laughter.

At that he took your hand and walked the ten blocks to your apartment. The night was filled with a comfortable silence broken only by little musings as you both took in the quiet surroundings of the financial district after hours. As you neared your street, Namjoon broke the silence once again.

“Why did you message me tonight?” His voice was contemplative, as his thumb grazed yours.

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have” You earlier guilt was surfacing again, as you thought about why you told him what happened when usually the first person you’d tell in this situation would be Jiyoung or Harry.

“I told you - I’m glad you did. I was just curious why.”

“I… I don’t know. You’re the first person I wanted to see.” You sighed, getting uncomfortable with the line of questioning. You didn’t want him to ask why he was the first person you thought of because you weren’t ready to be even more vulnerable tonight, not ready to admit the space he had made in your heart over the last month. He was quiet for a few moments, his eyebrows scrunched in concentration as if he were solving a complex math problem, before he spoke.

“Do you remember when I sprained my wrist and had to go to the hospital a few weeks ago?” You didn’t expect this subject change, but gladly welcomed it.

“Yeah…”

“Well… you’re the first person I wanted to see then too. I mean before I knew it was just a sprain and I was panicking.” He squeezed your hand in his as you both exited the elevator on to your hallway, and looked at you, his gaze soft. “What do you think that means?”

“That we’re even?” You smiled, hoping to break this unknown tension that had come between you all of a sudden as you stopped at your door. You fumbled with your keycode, having to enter the password twice before making your way inside, Namjoon following behind you, as you both slipped out of your shoes and into slippers. Before you could leave the entryway, he gently held on your elbow to stop you, fixing you with another one of his soft gazes and a smile that made your heart flutter.

“I was thinking it means that you’re my girlfriend.” You could hear your heart rev up as you looked at him for any signs of teasing. There were none. Usually you would respond back with something along the lines of him never asking, but with the night you had just had all you could think about was how happy you were to finally call him yours. Without further hesitation you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him into a kiss, which after a little surprise, he returned. It was reminiscent of the first time you had kissed, but this time instead of awkward butterflies, your heart was filled with a comfortable glow. His lips were familiar against yours and his scent wrapped your senses in a warm cocoon.

“Mmm… Boyfriend.” you said against his lips, grinning, as he kissed you again, his hands under your thighs as he lifted you and carried you to bed, surprisingly avoiding bumping into the doorframe this time.

That night as you slept under the projected milky way on your ceiling with his breath tickling your ear as he snored lightly, you felt yourself give Namjoon a part of your heart you had hidden away for a very long time.

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#bts fanfic #rm x reader #rm smut #rm fluff #namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #bts namjoon #namjoon x you #namjoon smut #bts fic #bts x reader #bts rm scenario #bts namjoon scenario #bts x y/n #bts smut #bangtan sonyeondan

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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Blog Updates: New Patreon Stretch Goals, Patreon Exclusive Reviews, New Story Arcs and Other Stuff

MHello everyone. For those of you seeing this through other tags my name is Jake. I do reviews on here that are usually full sumaries of an episode of a tv show or comic, with jokes and analsyis throughout. I’m doing this post as i’ve recently revamped by patreon a bit, check out VIA THIS LINK if your curious. I also have some other stuff going on with the blog that I thought might intrest the general public and especially you lovely followers. Thank you guys so much. Your support means a lot and feel free to interact with this post and any of the reviews. it’s always a pleasure. Leave your comments whatever. So let’s start with the patreon stuff

You Decide the Next Patreon Exclusive Review!:

Yes YOU will decide the Patreon Exclusive review for May. How? It’s simple: i’m currently reviewing the Lilo and Stitch crossover episodes, the first two this week with the American Dragon Jake Long crossover “Morpholomew” done yesterday, the Proud Family episode “Spats” coming later this week, and “Rufus” (Kim Possible) and “Lax” (Recess) coming next week and the week after that respectively.

As a way to gage intrest in the shows crossed over, and if I should review some of them on their own, i’m going to be watching the notes, and after the first week i’ll record how many a review got. This way the first review dosen’t get an advantage over the last and so on. Whichever episode gets the most votes wins and it’s show will get two reviews: One exclusive to Patreon in may you can check out for just a buck, and one for all of ya in June. So if you want to dragon up, get louder and prouder, check out what the sitch is, or have some recess, keep an eye on my blog and check out the review. Like it reblog, it, both. This is all in your hands. And if this little contest works out I may do another one like it in the future.

New Patreon Stretch Goals!:

For those unfamiliar with Patreon it’s a site that helps creators like me get paid for their work, used by such luminaries as Linkara, Pushing Up Roses and greatest of all Rifftrax.

Stretch Goals are an amount of money I get a month from patreons, that’s readers like you paying me. Even a buck a month would help a lot and help me put out a reviews and LIVE off doing this. But it’s a two way street so in order to entice you lovely people into paying me for doing my job and my passion with these reviews, i’ve updated the tiers, adding a wider and better range of rewards. I’m currenntly up to 15 dollars a month, or close enough that i’ve acitivated those rewards. And if you help me hit these tiers EVEYRONE gets PUBLIC, on here, for free reviews. Thanks to my lovely patreons Emma and Kevin you all are getting reviews of the first 5 Ducktales episode, aka Legend of the Golden Suns, with the second coming as soon as I finish this post. Even a buck helps us reach closer and for your dollar you get access to the discord, exclusive reviews, and to pick a short any time I review a bunch of shorts. And with Goofy’s birthday coming up next montha nd Donald’s after that, now is the best time for that. 5 dollar patreons also get one review as month, with 10 dollar ones getting two. You’ve already probably seen some of these: Kev has used one of his a month to have me review a house of mouse episode every month, and newest patreon and longtime friend Emma is using them to have me review the netflix dr. seuss adaptation “Green Eggs and Ham”. So whatever YOU want me to review I will and you’l lhelp unlock even MORE great reviews. So what do you get if you hit the goals? I’m glad you asked.

We’re up to 15 so next is...

20 Dollar Tier: Ducktales 87 Season 2 Mini Series!: Yes indeedy. Already on the Docket was the Super Ducktales Arc, which introducices the OG GIZMODUCCCKKKKK. But since that apparenlty wasn’t enough i’ve also added the OTHER mini series. While i’ll do super first since that’s the one with higher fan intrest once tha’ts done i’ll also review Time is Money, the time travel arc bringing in everyone’s faviroite scrappy Bubba. So if you want a buncha cruncha retro Ducktales pony up. But that’s not all the disney afternoon I got for this tier.

A Darkwing Duck Episode A MOnth: This one has also been promoted every time I could and still stands. If you like that mind behind the shadow disguise, that daring duck of mystery, that champion of right, then you’ll get one review a month about him, as voted on by you patreons.

Danny Phantom: The Ultimate Enemy: And since neither of these have helped me so far and stepping back into Amity Park made me realize how much I love the series, even if it’s creator is a 80 tons of smug asshole packed into a t-shirt he thinks is cooler than it is. So it only felt right to add the ghost boy to the tier and the best way to kick that off is with it’s second best, and only barely second behind Reign Storm, episode: The Ultimate Enemy! Danny finds his future is imperfect and must battle his own evil self! If you want my thoughts on one of the series finest hours, then help me hit 20 bucks a month to keep making content.

25 Dollar Tier:

I removed the Tail Spin content, though rest assured I will be covering Plunder and Lightning sometime this year. But what I replaced it with is even better.

One Danny Phantom Review a Month: YOu like teen superheros? you like ghosts? you like me slagigng off about butch hartman and trying to make it crystal clear his creation dosen’t wholly belong to him? Then you’ll like me reviewing Danny Phantom. And while i’m already doing that, this goal gaurantees one episode a month, and said episode will be voted on by my patreons. So if you pay for this you’ll not only get your monthly dose of going ghost.. but you’ll get a chance to PICK what it is.

Disney Shows To Movies Trilogy : I’ve decided to make it a tradition for my 15 dollar stretch goals to do a bunch of disney movies. And like with my last batch, which you’ll be seeing in may, i’m doing tv shows that got their own movies, theatrical or otherwise. And this time we’re doing MY generatoin: Kim Possible: So The Drama, the best story in the show’s histroy and the best movie in the Disney Channels! Recess: Schools Out! The suprisingly bonkers unsurprisingly awesome finale to an awesome show! and The Proud Family Movie, another UTTERLY BATSHIT finish to a great show. Lost at Sea and Seconds: This one’s for my scottaholics, fourth part of my Scott Pilgrim retrospective coming this week!. If you like me taking a look at Scott’s quest to punch the fuck out of his girlfriends exes while growing up a little, then if you help me get to the 30 dollar tier, i’ll also take a look at O’Malley’s other graphic novels Lost at Sea, which follows a girl who lost her soul and her boyfriend on a trip with what may be Young Neil’s older sister, and Seconds, the story of a woman with issues growing up who finds the ablitlity to travel through time.. or is it space? And some of you savvier readers my know he has nother comic. Where’s that one? wellllll

30 Dollar Tier:

Snotgirl: I’m saving this one for this tier. Reviews of each collected volume of snotgirl, Bryan’s first ongoing series, all three so far and any more to come about, unsuprisingly, a hot mess of a person, this time who might’ve done a murder. You know instead of defintely did a murder but in self defnese and with a longsword.

Gravity Falls Season 1!: One of Disney’s finest finally on this blog. All season 1 episodes reviewed in some way in some shape in some form. Star Vs Finale Arc!: You’ve heard me bitch about the problems in Tom’s story, and wil lcontinue to. Now see the terrible way everyone elses ends! From an amazing build up to an awful finish, see reviews of Every story relevant season 4 episode from Butterfly Follies to Cleaved that won’t already be covered in my tom retrospective. It’s a road to crushing disapointment, come on inside!

35 Dollar Tier: More Disney TV Adaptations!: Doug’s First Movie! See Doug get really fucking weird in his sea monster based movie with a punch line of a name! Teachers Pet, a great movie out of a show I barely saw! Kim Possible Live action! it’s suprisingly okay! and Recess Taking the Fifth: a compliation movie for a season we sadly never got.

Gravity Falls Season 2: Buillding on the first reward Gravity Falls Reviews will go beyond the first season and finish the job. From zombies, to dipcifica, to ford to weirdmageddon, I’m doin it all.

40 Dollar Tier:

Two HUGE Disney Focused Comics Retrospectives!

Darkwing Duck: In addition to the show, i’ll start reviewing the awesome follow up comic that got me into it. From the start to both finishes: the unathorized crossover finale and the sadly short lived sequel series from joe books, the worst mistake disney ever made that wasn’t racist, before Artemis Fowl said hold my beer. Also the short lived Ducktlaes series because why not.

The Incredibles!: The Family Dynamic! A comprehensive retrospective featuring reviews of the movie, the Mark Waid followup, the sequel that ignores said followup and the incomparable Christos Gage’s followup to THAT movie. Also that wonderfuly awful failed tv pilot bob made that he and lucius did a mst3k of.

45 Dollar Tier:

Disney Flims Lilo and Stitch a Thon: All four lilo and stitch movies, Lilo and Stitch, Lilo and Sitch 2, Stitch and Leroy and Stitch! All the hawaii, aliens and sequels you can handle!

Amphibia Season 1: I’ve done Season 2 as it comes out, i’ll be doing the same for season 3, so help me get here to see the start at least once a month, but two at a time!

50 Dollar Tier: The last one for now. I’ll probably go to 10 dollar tiers after this.

The Owl House Season 1: While I wait for the second season to start so I can cover it, have me do the rest of season 1! The only exceptions are the already covered Enchanted Grom Fright and the earmarked for pride month wing it like witches!

The Two Loves and 87 Mistakes of Mordecai: A regular show romancetrospective, as we go through the downs, ups, higher ups and crushing lows of Modercai’s romantic arcs from regular show. His crush on margert, making his move, moving on, moving on to cj, and then the horrible cluster fuck I’ve talked about nonstop and will again and again as one of the worst romantic arcs in memory as they shot the relationship in the foot head and groin! Force me to relive it all!

So yeah I’ll add more tiers, again probably 10 dollars apart if I get to 50, but given I barely got to 15 i’m not optimistic. PROVE ME WRONG. HELP ME HIT 50.

Other Stuff:

Finally outisde of Patreon, that was the main reason for this, I have news on my various arcs. For one thing i’ll be trying to keep the pace better, so expect at least one entry a month for ones i’m doing on my own time like the tom retrospective, life and times and Scott pilgrims. Ones kev does will be done weekly to keep my wallet afloat.

I also have two more retrospectives incoming! The first is paid for by Kev: I’l lbe tackling ALL THREE SEASON 2 ARCS OF DUCKTALES 2017. After the headache of trying to cram the della arc into three weeks to keep up with the lena one, I decided i’td be better for pacing if I did all three at once and kev agreed to it, if using his patreon reviews to cushion the blows. So starting next month i’ll be covering the Louie, Della and Glomgold/Owlson arcs, swapping between them in episode order. With that I should be FAR closer to having covered every ducktales episode. Granted i’ll still have 17 to cover, but it’ll make that much more managable.

The second comes in June specifically timed for Pride Month. With Scott Pilgrim Wrapping up in August just in time for the movie’s anniversary, I decided to start covering another one of my faviorite comics of all time. It’s time to transform, roll out and make this precoius it’s Transformers More than Meets the Eye! For those of you unfamiliar it’s an idw comic that follows a rag tag group of transformers, about half of them gay or gay coded, on a mission to find the lost knights of cybertron and bring ballance to a post war cybertron.. which quickly devloves into hyjinnks with a side order of heartrending deaths and charcter development... and references to dexy’s midnight runners.

So that’s all for now. thank you for reading, please support my patreon as the next pay term is at the start of next month, so if you want me to start on any of those stretch goals, nows the time. Please help me earn a living and until all are one, i’ll see you at the next rainbow.

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secret-engima · 3 years

Text

@hamelin-born

*kicks down door* Okay so I’m so sorry you’ve had a bad week, and since I am physically incapable of coming over and giving you a hug, I shall give you bby Dionysus being adorable with his (dead)relatives and Deleantur getting shipped by the local Galahdian bear woman instead!

...

The man shrugged and played with the edge of his cloak, “You may call me Herodotus. Or,” he added when he saw Dionysus’s face screw up at the long name —so many of his dream relatives had such long names that were hard—, “you can just call me Wander.”

“Wander?”

The soft smile grew bigger, mischievous, “It’s a nickname. I’ve never really been the kind of person to stay in one place for very long. Will that suit, Little Traveller?”

Dionysus mouthed the word, then nodded, “Wander.” He looked around them in curiosity, at the glowing flowers and living magic lights and trees bigger than buildings, “Where are we?”

“One of my memories,” Wander answered as he leaned back against the tree trunk, “my … safe place I suppose. Though I have had many over the years, this one was my first, so I suppose it is my favorite.”

“But where?” He’d never seen anything like this outside of storybooks. He wanted to go see it for himself when he woke up next.

Wander shook his head and looked amused, “I’m sorry, Little Traveler, but this is not a place you can find on Eos.” Dionysus stared at him with big eyes and Wander leaned in with a whisper and a gesture at his cloak, “When I was younger, I met a wonderful group of people who liked to travel as much as I did, and they showed me many things. Some of those were places that you could not, and will never, find on any map of Eos.”

Dionysus leaned closer, “Like the story of the magic rock that secretly led t’ the world of Hiso Hiso al’ens?”

Wander’s eyes glittered and his magic that draped around them felt like delighted laughter, “Just like that, yes. But my doorway wasn’t a rock.”

Dionysus looked all around in awe. He was in a secret world just like in the stories! Or the memory of a secret world anyway. He looked back over at Wander, “Did you fight an evil copy of your frien’? Did the copy try t’ de- delete the whole world ‘till you an’ Serah stopped it an’ saved all the Hiso Hiso?”

Wander’s shoulders shook a little, then stilled, “No. Nothing quite so exciting. But I did meet a woman with cat ears and a tail, and we did become good friends.” Dionysus gasped in excitement, and when Wander stood up and held out his hand, Dionysus took it without hesitation, “Come on,” Wander chuckled, “I’m afraid I cannot show you any aliens or evil copies, but I can show you a few other places I’ve been that no one on Eos will find.”

And he did. A few steps into the woods and the trees all turned to hills of sand and shimmering waves of sunny heat. Strange creatures with humps on their backs plodded slowly by in the distance, and in front of them was a tower that reached up to the sky all by itself. Wander told him that it was a dungeon, and that anyone who managed to reach the treasure at the very top would become a king and get magic of their very own. Dionysus asked him if he’d ever done it, if he had dungeon magic, but Wander shook his head and said he already had magic, so he’d let a friend take it instead. They plodded their way through a few shifting steps of sand and suddenly they were out of the hot sand and on an island in the sky. There was a strange ceiling high-high-high above their heads, and Wander told him that this was not one floating island, but a hundred of them all stacked on top of each other, each one just a bit smaller than the last so they didn’t block out all the sunlight for the levels below. Dragons swooped off in the distance, and when Wander led him to the edge and held him tight so he wouldn’t fall, Dionysus leaned over and saw nothing but thick clouds drifting below them.

They stepped back and the world became an ocean. They stood on the wooden deck of a ship and around them was bright blue water and flapping sails and before them was some kind of creature so big it was an island, it’s long legs plodding slowly through the sea with trees and buildings on its back. Wander told him that talking animals lived on the back of the big creature, and that very few people could find the island unless they were born there because it was always moving. He led Dionysus below decks and then they were on an island with a tree growing in the middle that was so tall and so big it had another, much smaller island sitting in its branches. The air tingled with old-friendly-amused magic that felt like laughter and mysteries, and Wander told him that this was the island of fairies.

He showed Dionysus a bunch of places, each one different and strange and amazing, each one with a little story to go with it that made Dionysus want desperately to know and explore more until the next one came and he wanted to see that one instead. Wander held his hand the whole time, steady and sure, making sure he never got lost or stepped too close to something dangerous. It was amazing and weird and exciting, and Dionysus decided he liked Wander a lot. Wander was different from the others, even Grandma Crepera. He didn’t seem to have any questions, and he didn’t mind answering all of Dionysus’s. He wasn’t grumpy, or loud, and there was … something about him. About his soft voice and the look in his eyes that reminded Dionysus of his dad.

... (And here’s Deleantur!)

He sensed someone approach through the outskirts of the crowd. Not that it was easy to miss someone as big as Chief Ligeia considering she stood a head taller than most of the other people here. He tipped his chin to her in greeting as she came to a stop next to him, a mug of something that smelled like alcohol in one hand. She grinned at him, all teeth and good humor, “Going to just watch? Or are you going to go have some fun?”

Deleantur shrugged and went back to crowd-watching, “I am having fun.” It wasn’t a lie, he found it both fascinating and entertaining to watch the party unfold before him. Galahdians weren’t all that different from the mainland in how they celebrated, but there were differences that were interesting to see. For one thing, there was a lot more dancing and singing. Even people taking a break at the makeshift feasting tables were all but dancing on the benches, feet tapping, heads bobbing- there was never a moment of stillness even from the groups lingering on the outskirts of the party to talk rather than dance.

The dances themselves were a lot more vibrant and energetic too. There were no royal waltzes here, but circle dances that dragged everyone nearby into them, or spinning dances where partners traded off at dizzying speeds. There was also a vaguely alarming number of somersaults, backflips, and instances of people climbing up trees and rubble like squirrels to better perform an acrobatic flip in time to the music, and not just from the children and the teenagers. He half suspected that the only reason the Elders weren’t doing such stunts were because they were physically too old and arthritic to pull it off.

Chief Ligeia scoffed, “Just watching is never fun. You should go out there and dance. Don’t want Stella to think you’re ignoring her, do you?”

Deleantur blinked at her, then glanced into the crowd where Stella was currently spinning and flipping in time with her little brother Eventus like some kind of circus performance rather than a dance for a party, “She knows where to find me if she needs me.”

Chief Ligeia slapped one of his shoulders hard enough that he had to bite back a hiss, “Not the point. You should be out there dancing with her. It’s good for young people like you two.” Deleantur gave her the flattest look he could manage and barely refrained from telling her that he was currently two thousand years removed from his date of birth —though that distance was technically in reverse—, even if he only looked to be twenty-six. But that wasn’t something he told anyone, especially not a party-happy stranger. Chief Ligeia rolled her eyes, utterly undisturbed by his look, and slapped his shoulder again in an effort to get him moving, “Go on.”

Deleantur raised an eyebrow and didn’t budge, “Why do you care?”

The Behemoth of a woman took a long drink from her mug, then answered blithely, “Because Candor is my second cousin and Stella is the best niece I ever had and I want her to be happy. You dancing with her will make her happy. So,” the woman moved with astonishing speed, so fast even Deleantur’s instincts and borrowed experience couldn’t stop her from bodily lifting him by the back of his tunic with one hand and all but toss him into the flow of the crowd, “go dance with her!” Deleantur staggered into the crowd, trying to catch his balance, then yelped as his hands were snatched up by a passing dancer and he was pulled into the flow.

... (and here, have a long snip of Buckler too)

They camped on the nearest Haven for the night, and Axis cooked dinner without comment while Nox fussed over his uncle and the redhead just sighed and complained about losing his shirts. He listened to them bicker, watched the way their shoulders slowly relaxed the longer Axis went without recoiling from them or acting afraid, and came to a decision. It was a reckless one, a stupid one even but … but it felt like the right one. He hadn’t asked about what happened, or how Ardyn had magic, but he knew what he’d seen and so did they. He knew not just one, but two of their greatest secrets now —that Nox was a Lucis Caelum, that Ardyn was a Lucis Caelum and couldn’t die—.

In the morning, before they could wander off into the wilderness again, Axis invited —ordered— them to come with him to Meldacio HQ. The two exchanged nervous glances before obediently following him on the trek up to the Vesperpool area.

If his wife was surprised when Axis turned up a week later with not just Nox in tow, but Niflheim’s Chancellor, she didn’t show it. She just smiled and welcomed them into their tiny house with a gesture and a promise of dinner soon. Nox’s eyes were wide as they shuffled in and Axis had known Ardyn long enough to spot the nervous edge in his sweeping bow.

Both of them went totally still when they spotted the playpen taking up most of the living room floor, filled with ratty stuffed toys that Axis had either purchased from Outposts or had been gifted by members of his, Tredd’s, and Luche’s Clans. Inside the playpen, Axis’s triplets —his treasures, his children, his greatest and most precious secrets— cooed and babbled eagerly at Axis, waving their hands and crawling around. His last visit hadn’t been that long ago, and they remembered him —the fact that he had been gone for long enough stretches when they were smaller that he’d been a stranger to them would always hurt—. Venia, his smallest and boldest, spotted Nox and Ardyn and babbled at them, fearlessly crawling up to the edge of the playpen to look at them. Axis reached in and picked her up, kissing her forehead and tickling her stomach with a hand to hear her laugh before turning to watch Nox’s and Ardyn’s reactions.

Nox was still staring at Historia and Spiritus in the playpen, a bright-eyed look on his face and a shiver of power in the air that felt protective. He looked at them like any of Axis’s remaining clan did, or how Tredd and Luche had first looked at them. Awe and protectiveness and already blooming adoration. Axis glanced at Ardyn.

Ardyn was staring at Venia, and the look on his face took Axis’s breath away. There was pure, open adoration there, wonder and a bright-edged fear, like just being near her would be enough to break her. Venia spotted Ardyn staring, dressed in all his clashing layers and colors, and giggled at him. She had never been afraid of strangers, and she didn’t hesitate to flail her hands in his direction, babbling with all the energy of a healthy nine month old. Ardyn flinched faintly away, even though her hands were nowhere near him, his own hands curling shyly inside his long sleeves like he was terrified of touching her.

Something in Axis’s heart broke a little.

No one as unexpectedly kind as Ardyn should fear being near a child.

“Her name is Venia,” Axis murmured, “that’s her sister Historia, and her brother Spiritus.”

“They’re so little.” Nox cooed as he crouched just outside the playpen, watching the two babies who stared back with far less fearless curiosity than their sister had —but not outright fear, Axis wondered if they too could feel Nox’s magic swelling around the room, rumbling with protective and already loving emotions—. Porrima reappeared at Axis’s elbow, reaching past him to pluck Spiritus out of the playpen. She gave their guests a considering look, then calmly reached out and plopped their son into Nox’s arms. Nox’s grip tensed, but his arms shifted into a proper position with a speed that looked instinctive, “Hey, wait-!”

Porrima ignored Nox’s breathless squawk and Spiritus’s wary coo, just picked up Historia and turned to face Ardyn, who had gone stiff as a board and deathly white, “Madam,” Ardyn said tensely, “I don’t think-.”

“Are you going to hurt them?” Porrima asked.

Ardyn’s jaw tightened, “Never, but I don’t-.”

“Are your arms so weak you’ll drop her?”

“No, but-.”

“Are you sick?”

Ardyn shook his head but kept shying subtly back, “I-.”

Axis sighed at his wife as she exchanged Historia for Venia, then turned and fearlessly stepped into Ardyn’s space to put their boldest daughter in the arms of Niflheim’s Chancellor —and the king’s unknown relative—. Ardyn went stone still as soon as Venia was in his arms, hands cradling her like she was fragile as glass and his eyes huge. Axis bounced Historia in his arms a little as he scolded, “Porrima. Don’t force them to hold the children if they don’t want to.”

“But they do want to, and it’s good for the triplets to meet new safe people,” his wife sniffed back. Then she flitted back to the kitchen without waiting to see the fallout of her actions.

Sometimes his wife trusted his judgement and choice of houseguests a little too much.

Axis sidled closer to Ardyn and held out an arm, “I can take her back if this really makes you uncomfortable.”

Ardyn stared down at Venia with the roundest eyes Axis had ever seen. Venia blinked up at her new handler, looked over at her dad, then looked back at Ardyn and clumsily patted his cheek, grabbing curiously at his red-violet hair a moment later. Ardyn inhaled, and Axis felt a second magic flood the room, old and powerful and monstrously protective. Where Nox’s was deep like the ocean, powerful but … subtle, like currents under the surface, Ardyn’s magic felt wild. It felt like the ripple of spotted fur in the jungle, the glimpse of fangs and teeth of a feral beast. Nox’s protective adoration of the little boy he was bouncing in his arms was like the pull of the tide, sweeping in and out with each breath, but Ardyn’s-. Ardyn’s was the rumble of a Coeurl’s purr as it curled around its cub, the singing edge of bloody steel, promising death to anyone that so much as looked wrong at Axis’s triplets.

Ardyn very slowly sank down onto the floor, legs crossed to form a lap for Venia to flop on, and when he looked up at Axis, his normally blue eyes were a brilliant, Coeurl gold, “They’re beautiful.” He whispered hoarsely.

#Melodies and Manuscripts #Nox verse #Nox verse Main #Deleantur verse #Blood of my Blood (That Was Shed On the Throne) verse #Child of My Blood verse #Secret Engima Rambles

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pagingevilspawn · 3 years

Note

Hi could u please write a fic where alex is diagnosed with a serious illness and jo is there with him for support ?

doctors make the worst family members

anon, i’m gonna start by saying that this is most certainly NOT what you asked for, but it's what you're getting. One; I can't write angst for shit so it would just be a major disappointment, and two; I truly just don’t have the heart to write my favorite character with a serious illness, lol.

Also, welcome to the series I'm starting. It's called, “payton uses evan peters characters from ahs for jolex baby names because she loves him and every character he plays”. (“payton loves evan peters too much” for short) it’ll be a ride 😎

anyways... hope you enjoy, nevertheless!

____

Jo Karev stood in her husband’s room, pacing around one the hospital’s floors so much she would make a hole in them if she continued any longer. She anxiously bit her nails with one hand, the other rubbing circles on her seventeen week baby bump.

She stops her movements suddenly, making her way to the uncomfortable hospital chair that sat in the corner of the room, flopping down into it, more than happy to be off her feet. They were beginning to feel like she had just through the grand canyon, not to mention, were the size of cantaloupes.

“You good now?” Alex asks her from his bed, a teasing smirk on his lips. His arms were crossed in front of his hospital gown, an item he (very) reluctantly put on. Jo had given him a glare and he knew he couldn’t refuse. Never get in a fight with Josephine Karev, he learned that one a while ago, but it was especially important that he never got into a fight with a pregnant Josephine Karev. She went full on criminal defense attorney, and he wasn’t going to lie, it was pretty scary.

Jo throws him a sharp glare. Due to her pregnancy, her mood swings had been hitting harder than ever. One second she wanted to pummel her husband, and the next she wanted him to hold her in his arms forever. Although, she supposed that wasn’t too out of the normal though, since Alex was always finding some way to piss her off and then say something sickenly sweet to make it up to her. A more accurate description would be how she went from joyful in the morning to blubbering tears and incoherent words when she figured out her favorite pair of jeans didn’t fit. (It was a scary sight, Alex had to console her for a good twenty minutes before she was able to fully calm down. Pregnancy hormones were wack.)

“Shut up.” she glowers, sinking lower in her seat, tracing circles on her belly in an effort to calm the kicking in her stomach. Baby decided now would be a good time to jab a kick straight to her rib, so she hunches over in her chair, letting out a small hiss of pain before adjusting herself, not missing the way Alex’s eyes look at her warily.

“You okay?” he questions, making Jo bob her head up and down.

“Fine. Your daughter just likes you more than me, which you know, I'm totally okay with. I mean, it’s not like I'm growing her inside me for nine months or anything.” she stares at him pointedly, causing the worry etched on his face to fade away and form a crooked smirk.

Alex chuckles, leaning back into the multiple hospital authorized pillows behind him as he runs a hand through his hair. He had a snarky comment on the tip of his tongue, but decided to hold it in. Jo was stressed, and the last thing he needed was to cause her any more.

It didn’t take long for Jo to begin her pacing again. She traveled the length of the room. The door, to the blue chair. Door to the blue chair. Back and forth, back and forth. Alex was starting to get dizzy just by looking at her. Her brown locks flew behind her as she moved, at times picking up her pace, making it across the room even quicker. It was at then that she would fiddle with the rings on her left hand, twisting them and untwisting them, tracing her fingers over the large diamond from her engagement ring and the smaller ones from her wedding ring. When she was little she always thought it was the other way around. She thought the big, fancy diamond was for the wedding, while the more modest piece of jewelry was the one that was ever so delicately placed in the velvet box.

She stares at the ring fondly, a small smile subconsciously gracing her lips. God, it was so beautiful. A 2.5 carat princess cut with a platinum band. Jo knew the name of the shape of the diamond wasn’t by accident, it had most definitely been the main reason why he had chosen that exact one. (She found out it was a princess cut when Kepner had taken her finger and examined the ring, sprouting out facts about the new piece of jewelry she was wearing. Also known as the only reason she knew any details about the rock that only left her finger when she had to be surgery, a rare now since she had transferred to OB)

When he pulled out that ring the first time, she was shocked to say the least, one; because, well he was proposing to her, and two; it was so freaking gorgeous.

Jo was never the type of woman to gush over rings and weddings and frilly dresses with frumpy looking bridesmaids gowns and too many different forks to choose from at dinner. But when she saw that ring? It didn’t matter that they were arguing, it didn’t matter that she felt like he wasn’t in her corner, she just wanted that ring. She never felt like that with Paul (for obvious reasons), the want to stick that ring on her finger and never take it off. Besides that fact that it was beautiful, she knew the real reason she wanted it so badly was because it came from him, from Alex, the man she loved more than life itself. She hated when she had to tell him to put the beautiful ring away, because she wanted nothing more than to wear it herself.

“Jo, I’m gonna be fine.” the man says, watching as his wife stops her movements, turning around to glare at him so sharply he wanted to pull the words back into his mouth and zip them up.

“You don’t know that!” she explodes at him, moving her arms around aimlessly, angry tears beginning to glaze over her eyes. Damn pregnancy hormones.

She lets out a huff, her breath coming out shakily as she tries to fan out the water in eyes.

Alex flashes her a small smile, “Jo, it's an appy. A freakin’ appy. Bailey’s doing it! Nothing’s gonna go wrong if Bailey is doing my appy.” he remarked.

“So many things could go wrong!” she exclaims, pacing around the room once more as words come flying out of her mouth with absolutely no filter at all. “There’s bleeding, infection, inflammation, your appendix could burst-”

She’s cut off by Alex, who’s shaking his head. “Jo.” he looks up at her, her brown eyes boring into his, “I’ll be fine.” he reassures her, watching as she tries to swallow the lump growing in her throat. He pats the bed beside her, signaling for her to come sit next to him.

Jo waddles to him, curling up to his side and placing her head on his chest as he runs fingers through her hair. “You can’t die on me, alright?” she mumbles into him, letting a single tear come down her cheek and land on his hospital gown.

“I won't. Promise.” he places a peck on top of her head.

Jo lets out a little chuckle, “I was never this emotional with Walker.” she teases.

Alex laughs, pulling her closer into him. “Trust me, I know.” he says, earning him a slap on the chest. “Speak of the devil…” he trails off, seeing Meredith walk into the room with a little boy glued to her hip.

“Momma! Daddy!” the three year old exclaims once he sees his parents, a wide smile painting his face as he tries to wiggle out of his auntie’s arms and onto the ground. It felt like he hadn’t seen them in forever, even if it was just six hours before he was being dropped off at daycare.

“Hi bubs!” Jo exclaims, taking Walker from Meredith’s extended hold and setting him down on her lap, his big, hazel eyes staring up at his parents in adoration while the blonde goes to sit in the chair Jo previously occupied.

Walker adjusts his position, making sure not to sit on his mommy’s bump. “Hi baby sissy.” he says to her stomach. Jo takes his hand and puts it on her abdomen, watching his face light up as he feels a sharp kick come straight to his tiny palm.

“Sissy says hi back.” Alex grins, ruffling the little boys spiky hair, which had somehow stayed intact throughout his adventurous day at the hospital’s daycare. He had his wife to thank for that. Jo had somehow managed to find a way to keep their son’s hair in place after long hours, thanks to copious amounts of gel she had mastered the use of. He used to say that a shaggy haircut was fine and perfectly normal, but she said that she ‘didn’t want her son looking like Will Byers’. All haircut debates officially ended after that.

The parents listen as their little boy rattles on about his day, from seeing his best friend Peter to knocking down the block towers he built over and over again. Their three year old was a little bundle of joy, their complete surprise baby. Jo always joked that he was created the night of her faux pregnancy announcement, since the dates lined up. Walker was something else. He inherited Jo’s hazel eyes nose, but everything else about the little boy screamed Karev, from the big head he had when he was born to the crooked smirk that permanently stayed plastered on his lips, always ready to get into some trouble.

Some days he acted like an angel, but majority of the time he was the literal spawn of Evil Spawn. Cristina’s custom made onesies and t-shirts were frequently worn by little Walker, which proudly stated, “My Daddy is an Evil Spawn!”, “Spawn of Evil Spawn”, “Product of an Evil Spawn and Hairball” just to name a few.

Walker and Meredith found them hilarious, Jo and Alex… not so much.

A few minutes later a nurse walks in, asking Alex if he needed anything while simultaneously checking his vitals when the little boy speaks up.

“Hi!” he chirps excitedly, a crooked grin on his face. He loved meeting new people, one of the few differences he shared from his parents, but they knew that was a good thing. Walker had always been sociable and practically made friends everywhere he went. The cashier at the grocery store, the workers at the receptionist’s desk, random people he passed on the street… little Karev was quite a people person.

“Hi there sweetie,” the woman in her mid-twenties coos, tucking a strand of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear as she bends down slightly to meet the little boy’s height. “I’m Andrea, what’s your name?” she asks.

“Walker!” the tiny brunette exclaims.

Andrea laughs, shaking her head a little bit at the adorable little boy, looking up to meet Alex’s eyes. “Your vitals are good Doctor Karev. Dr Bailey should be in soon to go have you sign your consent forms, but otherwise just sit here until then.”

Alex says his thanks as the nurse walks out the door, his son watching as the young girl leaves. Walker leans up unexpectedly, whispering loudly enough for the three adults in the room to hear.

“She had big boobies.” he giggles, clutching a hand over his mouth, trying to hide his large grin.

Jo’s face could only be described as scandalized, while Alex and Meredith burst into loud laughter, their sound filling up the room with the little boy’s giggles.

“Walker Alexander Karev!” oh you are so your father’s son.

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vanchlo · 4 years

Text

Magic Moment

Hello! I could NOT resist writing another blurb about boyfriend!harry for my lovely friend, @bfharry‘s BOYFRIENDATHON after I got this idea! I’ve always loved baseball myself and playing lots of catch at work recently inspired this, as well as falling in love with Queen ;) Enjoy some fluff about playing catch with boyfriend!harry at your childhood home c:

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.4k words

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Music Inspo: This Magic Moment by Ben E. King and The Drifters (click to listen and yes Sandlot *wink*)

“Follow your heart, kid, and you can never go wrong.”

- The Sandlot

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad,” you jest, giggling nervously. The screen door closes with a loud whap! behind the both of you.

“Ya, maybe it wasn’t fer you,” he sighs in a whisper, stuffing his hands into his pockets. His high-top white converses slap! down the wooden stairs quickly. “I think I need anotha beer afta that.”

“Follow me.”

A humid heat hits you in the face when you open the scarlet-colored door to the garage. The familiar smell welcomes you, and so do the sights of your father’s tools hanging up on the walls. The lawn mower still sits in the same spot, his pair of old glasses remain perched on the windowsill, and the tiny mini fridge in the corner awaits your call.

“Thanks,” he mumbles after taking a long pull from the refreshing beer. You opt for a Whiskey-Coke, instead, the carbonation sending shooting stars across your tongue. You watch him wipe away the bead of sweat running down his forehead, and then the subsequent smile that drills the dimples into his cheeks. “Bloody hell, if that isn’t tha cutest thing ‘ve eva seen.”

A questioning ‘what’ barely passes your lips once you spot the miniature lilac colored baseball glove on a shelf. Next, a laugh falls from your lips and he echoes it with his own adorable concoction.

“Hard t’ believe yer hand was eva that tiny, love.”

“I know, it’s funny that my dad kept it around.”

“I would if I were him, ‘s bloody adorable,” he notes, picking up the battered leather mitt with a content smile. “Ah, lookie here. Up fer a game o’ catch, love? Bet I could whoop yer ass.”

“Harry, you can’t beat somebody in catch!” you protest, the cool liquid gracing your lips, providing you a few seconds of relief from the summer heat.

“We’ll just see ‘bout that, now won’t we?” he teases with a wiggle of his eyebrows. A tan, leather baseball glove hits you square in the chest, landing in your arms while he slips on a darker twin of it. “C’mon, I wanna see how girly of a throw ya got.”

“Oh, shut up. You have no idea what’s coming for you. You’re dating a former softball player here.”

“Am I now? Ya don’t seem that intimidatin’ t’ me, miss,” Harry laughs softly, the billowy cotton of his red Hawaiian themed shirt catching the wind once your feet find the grass. “Dunno how anythin’ can be intimidatin’ afta meetin’ yer bleedin’ father, tho’. Bloody hell,” he remarks, shaking his head.

“It really wasn’t that bad, Harry,” you correct him, placing your tall can beside his dark glass bottle.

“It was. Didn’t know he’d be so fookin’ hard on me, askin’ all o’ those questions. He never even smiled at me once, babe,” he scoffs, sliding the glove onto his large hand and messing around with it until it’s comfortable enough.

“Yes, he did.”

“No, he didn’t. Or I didn’t see it. Dunno why he was so cold t’ me. Ya’ve always had such good things t’ say ‘bout growin’ up with him . . ,” he exhales, tossing the ancient brown and red baseball into the mitt. His short curls dance around atop his head as he crosses the large backyard, the very same one you played kickball in, where you hit home run balls into the woods, set cartwheel records in, and still have the pieces of wood set into the ground marking the bases.

“He’s quiet, Harry, that’s all. You just have to find something in common with him, and then you’ll hit it off. I promise you, he liked you.”

“Don’t believe ya there, he was givin' me tha evil eye tha whole time durin’ dinna, even tho’ I was fakin’ likin’ his burgers. They were dry as hell,” he grumbles, soon coming to a stop a good way across the grassy area. Messing with his light-washed denim shorts, he checks his phone before letting it fall back into one of its pockets. “Reckon ‘s cuz yer his li’l girl, loads mo’ protective o’ you cuzz’a that.”

“Keep going, I’m not a sissy.”

“Oh, so I should go long, ‘s that right? Dunno if ya can make it t’ me if I go back any farther,” he winks, the dimples set into his cheeks all the way from here, you notice.

“Would you hush? I pitched all throughout high school, I can make your hand hurt from catching it, if you keep running your mouth,” you argue.

“Oooooo, she’s gettin’ feisty now,” he chuckles, raising his voice to carry across the clipped green grass, tall trees framing the yard. He pats his taut fist into the palm of the glove, the baseball snug in his large hand. Why, of course it is, Mr. Huge Hands.

Seconds later, the ball soars through the air and banks to the left, but with a jump, you catch it just in time.

“What the hell was that?” you laugh, holding up your hands.

“Erm, ‘m warmin’ up? Y’know, gotta get the old righty back in ‘s place,” he insists, stretching his dominant arm this way and that, ever so dramatically.

“Whatever. You’re full of shit, Harry,” you call back, adding extra volume to your voice. His bottom lip escapes to between his teeth while his head goes from side to side. You surprise him with your throw and he misses it, pulling a loud laugh from your lips. “Not so confident, are we now?”

“Shuddup! Ya were a bloody softball player, ya got advantage ova me, ‘s not fair.”

“Don’t you start whining now! You’re the one who wanted to play catch with a five time-.”

“Ya ya, we get tha point, babe. Yer a bloody star when it comes t’ softball. I know, I know. Wish I coulda seen ya play, woulda been fun. Ya should join a summer league, they sound like a hoot,” he comments, locating the ball at last back in the woods and landing it in your glove.

“And I played with my brother all of the time, and he was M.V.P two years in a row on his high school baseball team.”

“Good fer him, maybe he should be out here playin’ with you, instead,” Harry says when your throw to him sails over his head. “God, can ya control that arm o’ yers fer once?”

“Sorry!” you laugh, knowing that he doesn’t believe it for a second.

“Sure ya are.”

The ball arrives in your mitt with a pleasing whap! and your hand settles over it. Brushing your fingers along the coarse stitches, the shocks of green grass stains on the leather welcome you back to your childhood, tossing around this very same ball with your older brother and father. The nostalgia brings your hand to your pocket, and your fingers soon tap the screen of your phone.

“C’mon, slow poke! What’re ya waitin’ fer? ‘Fraid ‘ll beat ya afta all?” Harry quips from across the yard, nearing you to retrieve his beer that he sips from. With a pleased ‘ahhhh,’ he sets it down on the gray cinder blocks of the nearby fire pit after walking back, placing enough space between him and it so he doesn’t run into it.

Sliding your phone back into your pocket, music soon pours from the large bluetooth speaker in between you against the garage.

“‘s this just fantasy? Caught inn’a landslide, no escape from realityyyyyy. Open yer eyes, look up t’ tha skies, and seeeeee,” Harry sings loudly, pumping his arms down at his sides and closing his eyes adamantly. “‘m just a poor boy, I need no sympathy. Because ‘m easy come, easy go, li’l high, li’l low.”

“Any way the wind blows, doesn’t really matter to meeeeee,” you sing back, savoring the large smile painting his face as he catches your throw with ease.

“Toooo meeee,” he sings back. “Mamaaaaaa just killed a man, put a gun against his head. Pulled my trigger, now’s he dead. Mamaaaaa, life had just begunnnn. But now ‘ve gone and thrown it all awayyyyy,” he sings to the baby blue skies dotted with clouds, adamantly strumming an invisible guitar. He echoes your laugh that flies between the two of you, joining the robins and starlings flitting between the trees. “Knew I picked a good one, she’s got a good arm and a bloody good taste in music. Ya betta play Take On Me next, or all bets are off.”

“Oh, you know that I will. It feels like an eighties night, playing catch in the backyard during the summer. It’s just like when I was little,” you note aloud, jogging to the right to catch his next throw until it falls into your glove.

“‘Bout tha same fer me, just with footy, think this ‘s how ‘d like t’ spend my summers still . . I loved it so much, playin’ in tha backyard listenin’ t’ tha radio, and think my kids would too,” he says casually, sparking a blush in your cheeks at the mention of him as a father. Oh, what you would do to be able to see him playing catch with a little dark-haired boy or girl who calls him ‘Daddy.’

Fuck me, you think hastily.

Quickly, your shared favorite part of the song comes and he imitates the guitar shredding while you repeatedly toss the ball into your mitt, watching him.

“But eva since I watched Wayne’s World as a kid, I can’t avoid bangin’ my head when it gets t’ this part,” Harry chuckles, tossing a pop fly towards the overhang of tree branches. “I love tha trees here, ya know, ‘ve neva seen so many.”

“Me too, I love that part in the movie, and I love them too. It’s crazy to think how long they’ve been around to get this big. Some of them were as tall as I am now when I was little.”

“Huh,” he hums curiously, shooting into the air to grab a high one you tried to trick him with. Your eyes can’t help but wander to his dark fern tattoos that peek out when his shirt rises. “Ya think I should keep it still, or get rid o’ it?” Harry poses to you, puckering his lips at you with a mischievous grin.

“You almost remind me of Freddie Mercury with that ‘stache,” you say, the laugh growing from somewhere deep inside of you. He shrugs his shoulders and tosses a fast one back to you, hitting your glove square in the center with a heavy slap!

“Dunno why ya think that’s such a good joke, ‘s a damn compliment, if ya ask me.”

“Uh oh, are we getting a big head over there because you’ve caught my last three throws?” you joke, watching the ball soar high into the air amongst the green covering of the trees.

“Hey, be easy on me,” he pouts, his words disagreeing with his actions that send a hot fastball into your palm.

“Why? You’re never easy on me when we play Mario Kart or Cribbage.”

“Hey! You don’t have a bleedin’ nearly professional career in any o’ those!” he protests and then curses when your curveball nicks the tip of his glove.

“So, and neither do you, and you’re still aggressive as fuck when we play them! Huh, what’s your excuse, Harry?”

“Galileo!” he calls out.

“Galileo!” you echo, and the rest follow suit between the two of you as the song plays.

“‘m just a poor boyyyyy, nobody loves me,” he sings loudly, causing you to cough on your drink that you take a swig from.

“Keep telling yourself that,” you shoot back, setting down the wet can as he approaches you.

“But I am,” he whines, pushing out his bottom lip that you flick with your finger.

“Watch it!”

“Or what?” you counter, savoring the annoyed expression that soon fills his features. There’s just something about pushing his buttons that gets you going, even though you know that you shouldn’t do it.

“Or else I won’t bloody learn tha rest o’ Blackbird on guitar fer you,” he retorts playfully, taking a long pull from his bottle.

Now, it’s your turn to shout ‘hey!’ until he scoops you into his arms, your surprised shriek piercing the sky.

“You better finish learning it! But, I think that I like Freddie better.”

“How? Paul ‘s far betta. ‘ll always love Queen, and The Beatles don’t have anythin’ on Bohemian Rhapsody, but Paul ‘s tha betta musician. Trust me, I should know,” he disagrees, pecking your temple before pulling away and tossing the ball into your waiting glove.

“But, Freddie had a four octave range.”

“And? So does Paul,” Harry shrugs, raising his left arm in the air to snag your fastpitch that he almost loses. “Paul McCartney ‘s tha superior musician, just trust me on this.”

“Paul McCartney has nothing on Freddie Mercury,” a voice pipes up, turning the both of your heads to the right where you find your dad stepping out of the garage with a weathered black baseball glove snug upon his right hand.

You swear that you could hear Harry’s apprehensive gulp from all of the way over here, and when you look, you find his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

“But Paul was betta on guitar, bass, and drums,” Harry argues, nervously tossing the ball into his glove repeatedly.

Your dad closes the door behind him softly, and steps out on the grass, adjusting his glasses. Surprise is absent from your range of emotions when your dad shrugs his shoulders, but you’re sure that it coats Harry’s insides in the next few moments.

“You’re right there, I like somebody who can stand up for their argument,” he comments, nodding a head towards Harry who out of the corner of your eye is smiling, just the slightest. “I think I might like this one,” he says to you, holding out his glove towards Harry, with his lips curling into his cheeks.

The smile on your boyfriend’s face almost matches that of your father’s, but he’s got nothing on the grin plastered across Harry’s face because of your next words.

“I think I do, too, Dad.”

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write-like-you-mean-it · 4 years

Text

A Hunter’s Prey: Killua’s Return

My mind buzzed with every single emotion at once. The nausea was replaced with a rock as big as my stomach. Fear gripped my heart to the point I could feel it tightening around and squeezing the life out of me. The thought of life growing deep inside of me pounded against my skull. When I told Illumi I wanted to have his child, I didn’t mean this soon.

The air around me began getting thinner and thinner as I tried to breathe in any amount of oxygen in my lungs. My hand grasped the front of my shirt as if I could force my lungs to take in any more. My vision started to cloud as I became fixated on the white stick in front of me.

I threw the stick across the room as tears finally flowed down my cheeks. I should be happy. We wanted a kid; however, it should’ve been later. Why wasn’t I careful? Why wasn’t he careful? Illumi wouldn’t have planned this. No, Illumi wouldn’t have done this on purpose.

Panic subsided to a dull throb in the back of my head. Tears continued to fall down my cheeks until I felt there was no more that I could cry. My mind was a metronome of two thoughts: I was happy and pure terror. While I was excited to marry Illumi, having children was a bigger step. This child would be a Zoldyck. They would be forced into a lifestyle that I wasn’t entirely sure I was comfortable with them doing.

My mind still wasn’t clear the next day. I couldn’t cancel on Gon a second time as Killua’s arrival was less than a week away. I needed to talk with Killua about everything. Something didn’t seem right and the only person who may be able to help was Illumi’s younger brother.

“Good Morning!” shouted Gon as I made my way across the clearing and to the familiar rock. “Are you feeling better today?”

Gon’s smile almost made me want to match it. He was so self assured that it was almost disgusting. Today, Gon was without his cast from the broken arm. Gon waved the newly formed arm as if to show that he truly is whole again.

“Morning, Gon,” I responded. The green-haired boy’s face scrunched as he studied me intently. For that split second, I wondered if he could tell of my predicament. Could he sense what was off with me. No. No one would be able to know.

“Do you feel better today?” he asked before stretching his hands up high,a routine he would always do before our morning run, and I took it as a sign that he knew nothing.

“Yeah,” I sigh. “It must’ve been a small bug. I didn’t want you to get it but I’m much better.”

Gon still had the smile on his face during the full run. We spirited through the trees like vipers. During this month, I had become accustomed to running. It wasn’t a hobby that I had enjoyed before now. Gon was able to help me feel better, faster than I ever had before. Truly, he was one of the most intelligent children that has graced my presence. Would my child be like him?

I quickly shook the thought from my head as the end of our run came within view. If I were able to hold Ren for the whole two hours today, I would finally be at my goal.

We stopped only for me to catch my breath before the actual preparations. I took a stance with my feet shoulder-width apart, took a deep breath, and started. The cooling sensation of Nen flowing through my body always left tingles up and down my spine.

“Oh, I received a letter from Killua yesterday,” said the boy who was doing some push-ups with his newly formed arm. “He’s excited to come meet me. I wrote to him when you first arrived because I wanted to ask if it was alright that you two met again. He didn’t seem too happy but we already planned to go in search of my Nen.”

“Where do you think you’ll look?” I asked.

“We were going to go talk to some old friends. They should be able to find someone.”

I should’ve known that he wasn’t going to tell me. While I was a friend, trust should not have been easily given. Killlua was still hiding from his brother and I was still in contact with Illumi. A double edged sword for both of us.

“I hope you do get your Nen back, Gon. You’re too special to not have this power. If I could, I’d give mine to you. It would be better suited in your hands than my own.” My words weren’t forced but I still felt a new ache deep within my heart. Gon was still a child. A child that had his life ripped from this Earth and he hasn’t even hit puberty. Maybe it was better for him to not be a full time hunter. He should be a full time child while he still can.

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It took until the day Killua was to arrive to finally grasp the two hour mark. Only three hours before Killua’s return did my sweaty, tired frame hold Ren for two hours. Gon counted down the seconds as he started jumping with excitement.

“You did it!” he shouted. Overwhelming emotion hit me as the once distrusting child became so excited when I finally hit my goal. A goal only created to meet his best friend. A goal that only mattered to Illumi. “Try your power again.”

“Huh?” I questioned. “I already met my limit.”

“No, no. You told me last week that you were able to produce fire. Show me.”

I finally realized what he meant. He wanted me to show my Nen in its physical form. I place my hand up and switch my Nen to fully form in my hand. The flame grew bigger than it ever had before. It was a beautiful flame that felt cold to my own touch. I closed my hand around the fire and focused solely on the piece of metal that I’d felt before.

Miraculously, it appeared. This time it wasn’t jagged and raw. The edges were still harsh but only in places where my hand didn’t fit. I must’ve leaned hard into the conjuring category rather than staying a transmuter.

“You don’t have any fighting experience. Do you?” questioned the child. He was anxiously watching his phone in case Killua would arrive early. Every few seconds, he would look at the device and his smile would drop.

“No,” I say. “I’ve only practiced with Zeno a few times. I had barely the fire.”

“Why’d you choose a knife? Shouldn’t you try to use your first attack more? Maybe you could even change it inbetween. Like fire that quickly changes to a knife. They’d be great for long range attacks. Shorter ones can be the fire and metal.”

Gon, while being young, had many ideas that I hadn;t thought of before. The only reason I had the metal knife was from when I saved Machi. The knife vanished in my hand and was replaced with the burning fire. So it can change back and forth.

I decided to take Gon’s ideas and put it into practice. I held my hand straight out and released a burst of flames from them. It was good enough to singe some of the taller grass. I closed my eyes and thought of the fire changing to another attack. Nothing happened. Instead, the fire slowly faded.

“Maybe it’ll take more practice. I didn’t really know mine quickly.” He thought for a second after checking his phone. “Killua might be able to help. He is a transmuter after all!”

“Speaking of Killua, shouldn’t we return back to the doc. Don’t you want to be there when he arrives?”

“Yes. I’ll race you,” cried the child after he had already started running. I let out a sigh before chasing after him.

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Killua’s boat was late. Gon had gotten to the point of pacing in order to calm himself. I’d never seen him so excited in the month I’d known him.His joy brought a smile to my face. There was very little for him to look forward to since he lost the ability to use Nen. Seeing his best friend again was the goal.

Once the boat arrived, Killua, followed by a little girl, was the first ones to step onto the island. Gon ran up to him and started to ask about his travels and friends and Alluka and everything that would come to his head.

“Whoa Gon slow down,” commented Killua. “You’re being embarrassing.” Although his words sounded as if he were annoyed, his tone did not. Instead, he looked more happy to see his friend too. Alluka gave Gon a hug.

It took them a few minutes of talking before Gon remembered my presence. “Oh Killua, this is my new friend Y/N. You may have met her before.”

The white-hair boy’s eyes turned into an icy glare. “Yes. I remember her. What is she doing here?”

“Hello Killua,” I started trying to be polite. “It’s nice to actually talk to you.”

“I’m not going to repeat myself again. What are you doing here?”

“I-I’m here to see you. And to meet Gon. I’ve heard so much about you that I wanted to actually get to know you.”

“Gon you do know that she is dating my brother,” growled Killua as he pushed Alluka behind him. Passersby started to look at us. A few scoffed at the bizarre situation where children seemed in distress from an adult.

“I know we got off on the wrong foot last time,” I start. “I really don’t-”

Gon interrupted. “She’s been hanging out with me. I’ve been training her in Nen. Just like Bisky did for us. I gave her a very hard goal but she was able to keep it. It was the only way she could meet you.”

Killua’s eyes were still locked on mine as he whispered something between the two boys. I let them have their privacy in the hopes of proving myself somehow.

After much deliberation, Killua seemed to find a solution. “Okay. If you can prove to me that you’re not under Illumi’s control and have free will in loving him then I’ll listen to what you have to say. He had put so much emphasis on ‘loving’ that I knew he wasn’t serious. There was this twinkle in his eyes as if he knew something that I don’t.

“Okay,” I say. “What do you want to know?”

“Nothing until I know if you’re not being manipulated. You and I both know that Illumi is a manipulator.”

“Yes but what does his Nen type have to do with anything else?”

“Are you stupid? The needles. They can control people. Illumi did that to me to force me to run any time I couldn't win a fight. Truly, he is evil. I bet he did it to you too.”

“No,” I say. “Illumi would never do that.” I mumbled my words while shaking my head; however, there could be some truth to Killua’s words. It was rather weird the pull I had towards him. I had always chalked it up to actual love. But could his manipulation last for so long?”

A crowd was starting to gather around us. I, thoroughly confused, looked towards Gon as if he could do anything. “Let’s go back to my house. We can talk about this more.”

Killua, begrudgingly, agreed.

Once at Gon’s house, Aunt Mito expressed how she was cooking dinner for all the new guests. We, on the other hand, stayed outside to finish our talk before Aunt Mito would finish the meal.

“Alluka, it is nice to finally meet you too,” I said while Gon and Killua were catching up with Mito. Killua wasn’t far out of sight so he could keep an eye on her.

She looked confused at why I was talking to her.

“Oh, let me introduce myself. I am YN and I am dating your brother, Illumi. I’m not sure if you picked that up earlier.”

“You’re dating mean brother? Why?”

“Nope we do not talk to Alluka,” interrupted Killua while pulling her into the other conversation. “I’m doing this for everyone’s safety. I was left along with my thoughts once more. Illumi’s siblings really don’t have a strong pull towards their brother. Kalluto seems to be the only one who actually has nice feelings. Milluki has a weird disdain for him. Killua despises him. Alluka doesn’t like him. How many enemies has Illumi made?

Killua and Gon finally returned when Mito had to get back to cooking. “Where I found my needle was in my head.” The former assassin’s hands became a sharp point. “I can easily see if there is one and get it out. If there isn’t then I’ll answer just about anything about my brother.”

“If there is?” I question.

“Then I think you have bigger things to deal with.”

I lean down so that I am eye-level with Killua. “I trust your brother so I’ll trust you.” My heart started to beat quicker as I closed my eyes. The pain was only there for a second. An instant of blinding pain and a sudden relief. I could feel blood drip from the entry point down my face.

When I opened my eyes, I saw blood mixed with a small pin. “See, I knew my brother would have pulled some shit like this.”

I almost didn’t hear him as my whole world crashed before my eyes while I stared at the small pin. Illumi had been manipulating me the whole time and I didn’t even know.

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#illumi zoldyck #illumi x reader #soft illumi #HunterXHunter #hxh #a hunter's prey #Chapter 37

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kiss-my-freckle · 3 years

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1x1 Rewatch: Aperitif

Gif set can be found here.

I’m only gonna do one episode rewatch a day. I like to be as detailed as I can, comment about things that stand out to me, so my posts end up longer than I’d like them to be. That’s aside from my rewatches taking a bit of time because I note things as I watch the episode. Expect a gif set with each rewatch. They’ll focus on Will’s character.

Perfect pilot opening. They start off with a crime scene reanactment to show how Will Graham's mind works. He's teaching a class, showing them how he catches killers. Psychoanalyzing 101. Every crime scene reenactment Will does, it appears as though he's the one doing the killing. He doesn't think about killing people - yet. He's more like Morgan on Criminal Minds, but he appears to be working random murder cases rather than serial killers at the open of the show.

This entire series is centered around Will's being. He has no idea who he is, and he's so afraid of his own mind that he refuses to fully understand it. He avoids a psychological profile because of that fear, and is just as terrified of letting others see him or even speak about him and the way his mind works. This often puts Will on the defense. Insert Jack Crawford. The Evil Minds Research Museum.

Religious aspect is heavy, but fitting when it comes to life and death and the mind of a serial killer. Pure empathy allows Will to understand anyone and everyone. It makes him perfectly suitable for Hannibal. The evidence can only take the FBI so far, Will's empathy takes them further. He starts popping Aspirins almost immediately because Jack is setting his mind on fire. Add in nightmares that cause Will to pull his shirt off because he wakes in a sweat. So hot, he has to dip his face in a sink full of cold water. Expect this to become an issue.

Animals, that's where many serial killers initially direct their violence. Will is perfectly capable of raising a house full of dogs, so he doesn't sell as a serial killer, only a man who has the inability to connect with others because he doesn’t understand himself. He understands animals as he understands people. Those dogs are his family, and you can tell he’s most comfortable with them. More on the dogs once I hit the third season.

Alana Bloom spends most of her time lying to herself. She claims she can't be in a room alone with Will because she has a professional curiosity about him. Too much time in a room alone with him, she's liable to tear his clothes off, she’s sexually attracted to Will. Her conversation with Jack about his fear pushes to the end of the series. A lot of the pilot episode pushes forward that way. "It's the price of imagination." Will no longer fears his imagination in the final two, that's why Hannibal said he's both free and damned to imagine anything, and Will handed his pet Chilton to Francis.

A lion in the room. Hannibal's comment to Franklin is purposeful. While everyone else sees Will as a lamb, Hannibal sees a lion the instant they meet. More from the pilot that pushes to the end of the series. I could list the many ways it pushes to the end of the series. Just watch the pilot and the final two to see what I mean. For Hannibal, it's love at first sight. His eyes devour Will. Too much time in a room alone with him, he's liable to tear his clothes off too. He also fully understands Will's mind at first sight, which he considers just as beautiful.

Will has a problem separating because he has no forts in his mind. He can't protect what he loves from what he sees and learns, so they meld. Difficult for Will because he's not just learning about these killers, he's learning about himself. Mere minutes of conversation, and Hannibal knew exactly what Will needed. Will sees the beautiful side of a cannibal. Hannibal shows him the ugly side of a cannibal. Hobbs' cared-for victims needed to suffer. Take her lungs while she's still alive. Toss her into a field like waste instead of making pillows or putty. Now Will sees the killer’s face. Hannibal had to show Will the other side. Field kabuki on the cliff in the series finale, and Will thought it beautiful.

Hannibal knows exactly what he did to Will. So much, he smiles wide as he eats his dinner. So much, he bypasses Jack because he wants to see Will after Will saw his crime scene. One of my favorite scenes of the series because it's the complete opposite of their cliff scene, both very intimate in their own way. He shows up at a time when Will is still in his t-shirt and boxers because he’s still sleeping. On the cliff, they're both naked.

The ugly and the beautiful. The worst and the best. Positive and negative. Night and day. Evil and good. Devils and gods. All of this is themed in the series. I could gif these opposites, but it would take a while because there are so many. Hannibal and Will are Yin and yang. Will very much has Hannibal’s appetite. It's the sausage, not the eggs that he said is delicious. Like parents who lie about where the meat came from, or cutting the vegetables so small their kids can't see them in the spaghetti sauce. Will has no problem eating human. Knowing where it came from bothers him. He’s gonna find Hannibal interesting for the same reason Hannibal finds him interesting.

The Minnesota Shrike isn't Hannibal. He only did it that way to help Will. I'll touch more on that when they start showing Hannibal's actual crime scenes. He wants to know how Will sees him. That's why he asked if Will is reconstructing his fantasies and what kind of problems he has. Will then asks how Hannibal sees him. “Have Dr. Lecter draw up a psychological profile. You seemed very impressed with his opinion.” This switch made possible because of Hannibal’s comment about Jack. Will is now getting a private opinion from a psychologist without the psychoanalyzing.

Will doesn't see himself as a mongoose, so he has a confused look on his face when Hannibal says it. "Peeking behind the curtain." Like saying he's peeking behind the veil, as Bedelia spoke of being with Hannibal. Hannibal is smiling because he sees a future with Will. Hannibal purposefully warns Hobbs. Not because he wants to save him, but because he knows what he has to do. Will has yet to kill, so he has yet to know how it feels to kill. Hannibal wants that for him... to feel powerful. To feel like God does when he collapses a church roof.

I love the end scene with Abigail. A man who doesn't even socialize with his students, drawn to a child. Juxtaposition, comparing these two lambs and their relationships with their fathers. That's why I fully believe Will's father helped him suppress his killer instincts. Unlike Abigail's father, who fully involved her. But I also like the scene because of Will's acceptance. He wanted to meet with Abigail alone, to connect with her, but Hannibal's presence caught him off guard. While he can't stop psychoanalyzing because that's who he is, Hannibal already told Will what he saw of him. There's a slow build-up of trust in this episode, from one scene to the next. That's why Will has no problem seeing Hannibal for therapy in the second episode. The one person who could help him through the event he just experienced is the one person who was there with him when he experienced it.

Jack is a problematic character. “Maybe we shouldn't poke him like that, Doctor. Perhaps a less, uh - direct approach.” That’s what season one becomes. Jack poking Will just by sending him to these crime scenes. As abusive as it is, Hannibal trying to take a different approach so Will can better understand who he is because he knows what the job is doing to him. If Jack isn’t gonna let the lion sleep, then Jack is gonna see the lion wide awake. That’s basically the way Hannibal sees it.

Three scenes in this episode that stood out to me where Jack’s character is concerned. Adjusting Will’s glasses... oy. More to Hannibal’s comment about seeing Will as a fragile little teacup. He might as well bend down and tie Will’s shoes for him, as if Will is incapable of doing it himself. A show of superiority in the bathroom. So much, he forces an agent to use the ladies room. This is while Will is trying to cool down. He’s on fire, and Jack refuses him a single moment in the bathroom. My biggest issue was his comment to Alana, who already told him Will is her friend. “Ah, it seems a shame not to take advantage and academically speaking.” Because that’s what friends do, they take advantage of you. This sold me for Jack’s character and what I expected of him. He’s gonna use Will until he can’t use him any more. And he does. That’s why Jack is a fixed character. He’s there to be the force that causes Will the desire to change.

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nalgenewhore · 4 years

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evil woman

TW: Drug use, Addiction, Cheating

+*+*+*+*+*+*

He was the last person she had expected to see at Aelin’s birthday party.

And yet, there he was, a glass of water in hand as he chatted with Fenrys, the two friends talking like the past year hadn’t happened. Like they hadn’t ended and he hadn’t absolutely broken her.

It hurt, not to see him, the sting that his face brought was muted by the whiskey she shot. It hurt to see her friends, her family, talk to him, to smile, to laugh with him. With the liquid courage coursing through her veins, she stood, fully prepared to chew him out in front of everyone, but before she could, a blonde woman was sliding in front of her, her hands raised in a placatory gesture. “El-”

“What the fuck is he doing here, Aelin?” Her voice was shaking, in sadness, in desperation, in pure unadulterated rage. She loathed when her eyes welled up. “Why is he here?”

Aelin winced, “He cancelled his tour so he could see everyone. He missed us.”

Elide let out a hollow laugh, “Oh, didn’t know he did that.” She crossed her arms to hide the way her hands shook. “I just love that he can come home for your birthday, but can’t ever stop for mine. His fiancee.” Ex-fiancee now. Had been that way for three hundred and eleven days. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to part with the engagement ring he had given to her, a simple white-gold band topped with a oval-cut black diamond, flanked by smaller white diamonds. She had it on her right hand now and though everyone could see it, no one dared comment.

All she had wanted was for him to be home, just for a little while, but no, he couldn’t stop working.

What she didn’t know and had discovered one fateful evening that what kept him occupied and itching to travel the world again was the groupies that hung around him and the band. When she slept at night, all she dreamed about was walking into his dressing room and seeing that redhead, his dick disappearing down her throat. White lines, and pills strewn about on a mirror, next to a crystal glass of whiskey. It was Auchentoshan 1978, the only brand he drank.

His head tilted back, his plump lips parted in a silent moan. His hand was tangled in that girl’s hair, like how he used to tangle his hand in hers. He had been too far gone to notice when she let out a sob, the drugs in his system carrying her love far, far away. Elide had been frozen, crying silent tears, unable to look away until he came, groaning deep in his throat. She felt her heart shatter when he lifted the girl off his lap and kissed her, the same way he did to her.

It was then that he noticed her, leaning against the door, like if she wasn’t pressed into it she would collapse to the floor. Lorcan’s dark eyes had been glassy and empty, not recognizing her in the slightest. “You can come on in, love, just don’t tell my fiancee,” he slurred, quirking a brow up as that girl sat herself on his thigh and held in front of him a little silver tray, a neat line of white powder waiting for him.

Elide had gasped, holding her hand to her mouth as he dipped his head and snorted it cleanly, tipping his head back as he squeezed his nose shut, bliss on his face as it settled over him. “Fuck you,” she said, watching as he realized and his eyes widened, but she was gone before he could even begin to chase after her.

In the present, Aelin tried to calm her, “Elide, he’s, he’s just another guest, you know? It’s like he’s not even here.”

“No, no, it’s actually not like that,” she hissed, her manicured nails digging into her skin. “Lorcan Salvaterre is anything but ‘just another guest’, he’s the person who broke me, Aelin.” The sound of her sister’s full first name on her lips was foreign and showed just how angry she was. Elide shook her head. “If he’s staying here, I’m not, this- I can’t fucking do this,” she whispered, shoving past Aelin, “I’m going home and don’t, don’t call me, tell everyone not to call me. I can’t believe you would do this.”

“He’s my friend too, Elide. You can’t just tell us not to talk to him, why should we pick sides?”

“Because! Because he ruined my life and there was no consequences for him! In all the tabloids, I was the ‘evil’ fiancee that made him stay home, I was the reason he wasn’t sober, it was all me! I got death threats, I had to move three times,” she said, her voice cracking. “I didn’t even get you guys. I was all alone and all anyone wanted to talk about was him and how hard this must be. For him. He didn’t even deny it, Ace, he didn’t say a thing, just let everyone think this way about me.”

“Elide-”

“Goodbye, Aelin. Happy birthday,” she said, keeping her head down as she passed through the kitchen to the coat room. It seemed she had gotten through until Fenrys called her name.

“Ellie! Look who it is!”

Elide sighed and turned, dragging her eyes up to look at Fenrys, not acknowledging Lorcan. “Fen, I really need to go home, but you have fun.” She said nothing to Lorcan, spinning and storming away, Fenrys’ confusion at her words floating to her ears.

She managed to keep the tears at bay until the coat room door shut behind her and then, when the first jacket she saw was his beat up leather jacket, Elide couldn’t hold them in any longer and the dam broke, heavy, broken sobs ripping from her.

It was like her heart was breaking again, over and over, he kept twisting the knife deeper and harder, determined to completely wreck her. Elide didn’t know how he did it, how he made her feel so fucking worthless without even talking to her. She hated him, hated him more than anyone else that she had ever loathed.

The door opened behind her and she turned, expecting it to be her sister or Fenrys, maybe even Rowan, her silver-haired friend was always there with a shoulder to cry on. It had shocked her that Rowan was the most supportive, almost as angry as her.

But it was Lorcan. Looking at her with sad eyes. “El-”

“Get out,” she cried, her voice cracking and thick with tears. “Leave me the fuck alone.”

He sighed through his nose, something he did when he was irritated. That was rich, really rich that in this scenario, he was the angry one. “I just want to talk.”

“Oh,” she started, huffing a laugh as she wiped her eyes. “You want to talk? That’s new.” Elide crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself to stop from breaking.

“I want to say I’m sorry, for everything. I treated you like shit-”

“What gave you that impression? Was it the drugs? Or the girls?” She cocked her head to the side, “I never even asked how many there were. Was it just that one?”

He dropped his eyes from her, picking at his fingernails. “No. I can’t remember how many others.” She didn’t know why she had thought it would make her feel better to know the truth because it only made it hurt more. “And I’m clean now, E.”

“Don’t call me that, you don’t get to call me that anymore,” she snapped, trembling with restraint because despite everything, she still wanted to tuck herself into his chest, craved that feeling of safety. She allowed herself one weakness as she congratulated him, “I’m, I’m happy you’re sober now, Lorcan. But it changes nothing.”

“I know.” Lorcan said, bowing his head, strands of his inky hair falling over her brow and she bit her inner cheek to stop from reaching out and brushing it back.

“Do you?” she questioned, her eyes brimming with fresh tears once more, “Do you really know how much you hurt me?” She choked, her throat tight as she spoke.

Remorse flooded his eyes, eyes that she would never be able to forget. “Yes, I know.”

Elide laughed dryly, “I don’t believe.” She breathed deeply, tilting her head up to stop the tears from sliding down her cheeks. “I don’t even think you’re sorry, Lorcan. I don’t even think you know what you did.”

At that, his nostrils flared in anger, “Believe me, Elide, I know because it’s all I think about.”

“Don’t you fucking talk to me like that, like I am in the wrong, you don’t get to be angry.” She snarled, still crying silently. “I am the broken one, I am the one that was hurt. By you. It’s all your fucking fault. And you know what the worst part is? I don’t even get to be mad at you! You were sick, you were an addict, you couldn’t help yourself, that’s all I ever hear.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. That was the last thing I wanted to do.”

“Well, I think it might be a little late for that, but thanks for the gesture.” She shook her head, her heart pounding. “I can’t be around you, so bye. I hope you have fun.”

“That’s it? We’re jus- We’re just done talking?”

“What don’t you get? You fucking ruined me. I am broken and in pain and it’s all your fault, but no one believes me.” Her voice cracked and she whispered, “No one.”

His face remained blank and that was what triggered the fury in her. Elide balled her hands into fists and stepped close to him, slamming them into his chest, over and over, sobbing, “I am hurting and it doesn’t ever go away, I can’t fucking escape you, ever because,” she fell against him, her hands curling into his t-shirt. “Because I still love you.”

She allowed herself to stay like this, nestling into him until he wrapped his arms around her and she stiffened, straining away from him, “No, don’t touch me, stop touching me. You can’t just hug me and think you’re gonna make it all go away, ok? It doesn’t make anything better, it doesn’t work that way.”

“Ok, ok,” he whispered, letting his arms fall away. “I- I don’t know what to say.”

Elide said nothing as she looked down at her hands, working the ring off her finger. “This is yours.” Lorcan glanced down, slowly shaking his head.

“No, Elide, keep it.”

“I can’t, I can’t keep anything you gave me.”

“But it’s yours-”

“I don’t want any material objects, Lorcan! I want my heart back and giving you back your shit is the closest I get to that,” she yelled, but then she fell in on herself, her voice quiet, “so, please, just take the ring.” Her hand shook and Lorcan took it from her, catching the way she flinched when their fingers brushed. “I-I have to go.”

Elide said nothing else as she grabbed her leather jacket and passed him, leaving him standing alone in the guest room.

No one noticed her, hadn’t heard a word exchanged and for that, she was grateful. But it still hurt her, that she would always be the evil in their story.

An evil woman, that had taken a good man and turned him into a monster.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

the angst demon is back y’all!

+*+*+*+*+*+*

@myfeyrelady @kandasboi @the-regal-warrior @highqueenofelfhame @westofmoon @empire-of-wildfire @city-of-fae @rhysands-highlady @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tangledraysofsunshine @ttakeitbacknoww @tswaney17

#elorcan #elorcan angst #sowwy bebs #i didn't mean it

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sdottkrames · 3 years

Text

Lying Down With Dogs

@comfortember prompt 16: Protective

Summary: Sirius comes to live with the Potters for a summer and Euphemia Potter ahs something to say to Walburga.

Notes: I had so much fun writing the last Marauders fic, so here’s another! Also, sorry this is a day late! I wasn’t feeling great yesterday and didn’t have the motivation to post before falling asleep, so you’re getting two today!

Trigger Warnings: There's nothing graphic, but obviously Walburga is an abusive piece of trash, so that comes into play a little bit here. Again, there’s nothing graphic, but please be careful.

Read on AO3: Here

There were three things Sirius knew without a shadow of a doubt: he would never, ever, ever be in Slytherin, he was a disgrace to the Black name, and he had the best family (no, not that one) in the whole entire world.

The first certainty came when he was 10 and his mother slapped him so hard he had her handprint on his cheek for two weeks because he dared to say something positive about one of the other houses. He vowed never to be in Slytherin. He wanted nothing to do with a house that hated other people like that.

The second came when he was 11 and his mother screamed it at him through a howler she sent a few days after he’d been sorted. He held the hurt (she was still his mother, after all, and her words still stung) behind bravado and jokes, saying loudly how being a Gryffindor and making her so mad was his greatest accomplishment.

The third came in the summer between his third and fourth years. His mother had been in one of her fits, and Sirius hadn’t been able to stop himself from saying some smart comment that he knew would get him in trouble. She’d been needling at him, purposely getting under his skin so he would snap.

It had worked, and Sirius had paid dearly.

He could barely walk as he snuck into his mother’s room later that evening while she was yelling at the cook about dinner, his eyes stinging with tears.

He knew he had to get away from his mother, knew he couldn’t stay any longer, so he grabbed a handful of floo powder and stepped into the flames of her bedroom fireplace.

“Fleamont Potter’s House,” he said as clearly as he could through his tears.

Last year, James had noticed the bruises Sirius came to school with, and in typical James fashion had wormed the reason out of him.

“Sirius,” he’d said emphatically, “if you ever need to, come to my place. Use the floo system. If you don’t feel safe, just come, no questions asked. My parents love you.”

“Thanks mate,” Sirius had answered, but never thought he would need to use that invitation.

Today, his mother had gotten meaner than ever, her words and her magic going further than they ever had. He remembered the offer and knew he needed to take it.

Luckily, he had spoken clearly enough, because after the dizzying ride through the flu system, he shot out of the fireplace of the Potter’s home.

James was sitting in the room, reading a book on transfiguration as he lounged on the couch, and he glanced up in surprise to see his best friend on the floor. James’ initial excitement at seeing Sirius was quickly overshadowed by the state he was in.

Sirius’ shirt was torn, his cheek was bruised, and he had tears streaming down his face as he heaved heavy sobs. James was slightly terrified to see the normally cavalier boy so distraught.

“James, what on earth is going on?” Euphemia Potter asked.

“Mum, it’s Sirius! He’s hurt bad.”

No more words were needed. Mrs. Potter led the boy to the kitchen and James trailed anxiously after them. He watched as his mum applied a salve to Sirius’ bruises, and heard her bone-deep sigh of sorrow as she finished treating him.

“James, go get one of your shirts,” she said, and James hurried off, his footsteps echoing upstairs.

“Thank you,” Sirius said softly. “My mother, she- well, I just couldn’t stay there any more and James said I could come here if I was ever in trouble.”

“James was right. I’m so glad you came, dear,” Mrs. Potter answered. “You’re safe here, alright? You can stay for as long as you need.”

James came in then, and Sirius gratefully changed into the shirt and then accepted the warm potato soup placed in front of him. It tasted delicious, warming right to his very soul and making him feel truly safe.

It wasn’t long before it was time for bed. James had a large enough mattress that the boys decided to share. Mrs. Potter knew that they were going to just stay up talking, but after the day Sirius had had, she didn’t have the heart to separate them.

They did end up staying awake until well past midnight, and when they woke up, they were curled up close to one another, gangly limbs and sheets tangled together.

***

“Good morning boys,” Mr. Potter greeted them with a smile as they shuffled into the kitchen for breakfast one morning, a week after Sirius had come to them.

“Morning!” They chorused.

Mrs. Potter was busy cooking up a small feast, and both boys stared greedily at the pan as she cooked the eggs.

“Off with you two,” she said, playfully swatting at them with a spatula. “Go set the table.”

Once everyone was settled and food was served, the contented quietness surrounding them tensed.

“Sirius, dear,” Mrs. Potter said, her voice hesitant, “If you’ll be staying with us for the rest of the summer, and of course you’re welcome to, love, won’t you need more of your things?”

Sirius nodded slowly, his shoulders tensing. James knocked his elbow against Sirius’ in silent support.

“I was thinking, why don’t we go get your things today. Just your clothes, school books, anything else you’d want. You can keep them here in the guest room.”

Sirius knew it was necessary, but he didn’t want to go back to that house again. Not so soon. He didn’t want to see his mother, remember her wicked smile as she tortured him. Didn’t want to go back to the halls and the bedroom that had become oppressive and evil.

Mrs. Potter understood. “Now I know you don’t want to go back, but James and I will come with you. He’ll help you pack your things and I’ll make sure that mother” her voice hardened and she spit the word mother like it was a curse, “of yours leaves you alone. Will that be alright?”

Sirius nodded again, suddenly not very interested in finishing his toast.

The drive to Grimmauld Place, and James talked the whole way, trying to distract his friend. Sirius felt stupid for it, but he held onto Mrs. Potter’s cloak like a 4-year-old, hiding behind her as she knocked on the door. A servant answered.

“May I help you?”

“Yes, I’m Euphemia Potter. I have Sirius here with me. He’ll be staying with us this summer, and I brought him by to collect his things. He left in rather a hurry last week.”

The servant, upon seeing Sirius, let the group in. Sirius darted upstairs, hopeful to avoid his mother, with James right on his heel.

“Just tell me what to do,” James said as they stood in Sirius’ room. He looked around, grinning at all the pictures on the wall, the Gryffindor tapestry hanging proudly by the window. A warmth filled his chest as he noticed a picture of their friend group, all four boys with arms thrown around shoulders and bright, warm smiles lighting up their faces.

“Yeah, don’t go getting ideas to take those pictures down. There’s a permanent sticking charm on them,” Sirius joked, and James laughed, but sobered when his friend explained. “It was the only way to keep her from taking them down and ripping them up.”

They quickly packed Sirius’ favorite clothes (James would never cease to be amazed at how many band t-shirts Sirius had), and his school things, and carried the trunk down together. Sirius nearly dropped his end when he heard a familiar shriek.

“I suggest you stay out of this, Euphemia, this is none of your business,” Walburga Black yelled.

“You made it my business when your son showed up in my living room sobbing, hurt and afraid. Afraid of you.”

“You’re exaggerating. There’s nothing wrong with a little tough love.”

“Tough love? I know an unforgivable curse when I see one, Walburga,” Mrs. Potter hissed, unafraid of the woman in front of her, who was trembling with anger. “You won’t touch my son, and I’m not just talking about James. I’m leaving, and I’m taking Sirius with me.” She gestured to the two boys she could see cowering on the stairs, trying to stay out of sight. They darted past Walburga, who didn’t dare try to touch them, to stand behind their mother.

“You have no right-”

“And you have no right to torture him,” Mrs. Potter interrupted, wrenching her arm away from the other woman. “Now let go of my wrist, and stay away from my sons.”

With that, she turned on her heel, the boys under her arms like little ducklings under their mother’s wings.

“Thank you,” Sirius said, his voice small and trembling with the tears he couldn’t stop from falling.

“Of course, love,” Mrs. Potter said, squeezing Sirius’ shoulder lovingly. “Now, I couldn’t help but overhear the other night, but you two seemed to have some wonderful idea on getting back at that old bat. Did I hear something about throwing eggs at a window?”

The boys laughed out their shock.

“What’s that saying about lying down with dogs, mum?” James asked, innocently.

Mrs. Potter had tried to teach James that lesson after he’d met Severus, but it hadn’t stuck. Of course he would remember it now. She grinned, anyway. “Well, I suppose a few fleas would be worth it.”

Right then, Sirius knew. As he played Quidditch in the backyard with James, as he bonded with Mr. Potter of the uses of hair product, as Mrs. Potter taught him to make homemade bread, as he threw his arms around his friends later that year at Hogwarts, he knew. He had the best family in the entire world.

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years

Text

Home- Chapter 10 (Kylo Ren/Ben Solo x F!Oc)

Words: 2,077

Masterlist

Chapter 9 // Chapter 11

At a new first-order base, some soldiers are on alert for a new attack, others are roaming around ordering supplies and weapons. Everything under the cautious gaze of Kylo Ren through a huge window that separates him from the others.

His eyes analyze each person that passes in his field of vision, men and women shout orders, fix ships, nobody wants to disobey the leader. But Kylo's mind is too far away to pay attention to detail.

The last words his prisoner said before they boarded an escape ship haunts him.

The person I love– Her? He can't believe it, not after everything that happened, it's impossible.

Kylo turns, but before continuing on his way, the image of Rey confronts him.

“Why is the Force connecting us? You an I."

From the first interaction he had with both girls, his thoughts kept throwing up questions. He can understand the connection to Kiara, after all, many years ago they had a strong bond, oddly though it's only through memories. But with Rey... he kept asking.

"Killer Snake!" Rey answers angrily. "You're too late. You lost, I found Skywalker.”

"Did he tell you what happened?" He takes a few steps forward. "The night I destroyed his temple, did he tell you why?"

"I know everything I need about you.”

"You know?" Kylo enters Rey's mind. Sees her memories. "Oh, yes you know,” He says in a mocking tone. "You have that look in your eyes, from the forest,” He raises his head. “When you called me a monster."

"You are a monster."

"Yes, I am." The connection ends and Kylo touches her cheek, watches the drops on her glove. Rey must be in a humid place, near sea.

How is it possible that he still has these situations? Why can't he see past the scavenger?

His head is messed up, he must concentrate on his work, must be informed about the attack on the resistance fleet, he must be careful with the scavenger, the training with Kiara... her words.

“No…” He growls shaking his head.

Kylo Ren was not the only one with an internal debate. Kiara finds herself walking back and forth in her new room, her heart in her throat.

"The person I love, why did I tell him that? It was all a lie, I really don't know why I saved him…” The girl scolds herself. "I'm an idiot, I don't even feel anything for him... just disgust, yes, that's it–” Kiara stops and growls as she hides her face with her hands. “I should’ve run away when I had the chance. Surely, he could easily be saved…”

That made her think.

Kylo is an advanced apprentice, in fact, he could have defeated any creature and avoided the fall, something must have happened.

"I shouldn't have saved him!" She complains. "It was a trap, he knew I was there... he knows my weaknesses and he pretended,” Kiara can't help but feel betrayed, every time she believed that everything could change, a blow stopped her to face reality.

Finally, she sits on the floor with her back resting on her new bed.

“I'll never be able to have a quiet life…” Her breathing shakes, until a new memory invades her mind.

Kiara has always been uncomfortable when visiting day comes. Although not all the parents of their peers come, the simple fact that they make an effort to communicate with their children by means of a call or hologram, causes her heart to shrink, but what hurts the most, is seeing her best friend Ben with his two parents. They never miss visiting day, and today was no exception.

From one of the gardens she can see how Leia hugs and kisses her only son's cheek while he complains and his father laughs. While she just plays with the grass, away from everyone.

"I can't believe my son’s already sixteen…” Leia squeezes the boy's face.

"Mom," He says, pulling away.

"Come on Leia, you shouldn't embarrass him, that's my job!" Ben rolls his eyes.

"Where's Kiara at?" Leia asks.

"I don't know,” Ben replies uncomfortably "She usually leaves during this day…”

Both adults share a look, knowing the situation of the girl.

"Well, you must go get her, Ben. I’d like to invite her to the dance organized by the senators,” Ben raises his eyebrows in surprise.

"I don't think she’ll want to go, mother.”

"You don't know that, I’d say yes, especially if you go as his partner,” adds Han. Ben’s cheeks turn a little red.

"No, definitely not– I won’t be her partner, mom," He says, Leia laughs at the reaction.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything, Ben. Just invite her, please,” Ben grimaces but finally nods.

——————————————————-

"I've never been to a dance before," Kiara says, biting her lower lip while Leia brushes her hair. The girl is sitting on a bench in front of a dressing table.

"It's not a big deal, darling. Only adults talking about things of no importance to a teenager. Although, if you want to know, you can ask me anything,” Kiara nods.

Leia's skillful hands gently place each lock of hair to create a high ponytail with several strands loose on the sides of Kiara's face.

"I'll give you the dress and the jewelry you can choose from,” Leia disappears for a few seconds and when she returns, she has a beautiful slim navy blue dress for her. Kiara can’t believe how beautiful it is. She lightly touches the fabric.

"Are you sure I can use it?" She asks.

Leia knows that this is the right dress for her. Sleeveless neckline, the rest falls to almost touch the ground with just a slim belt to create shape.

"Of course, you’ll look beautiful." She observes the girl's reactions in detail, despite not knowing her completely, she can feel Kiara's innocence. Maybe it's the Force, or the maternal instinct, but she knew that this girl had the whole galaxy ahead of her.

“Thank you.”

————————————————————

Han and Ben are a little apart from the great room, both uncomfortable and knowing almost no one. Han cordially greeted those who recognized him for being Leia's husband with a fake smile, sometimes asking about Ben, who imitated his father's actions. The two look forward to the only two people they could be comfortable with.

When they enter the room, Ben can’t believe what he sees. It isn’t possible that the girl who approaches him with a smile is Kiara. Not in a million years.

"It seems that we arrived at a good time," says Leia, kissing her husband, knowing that her two men would be apart from everyone.

"You're good?" Kiara asks when seeing the strange reaction of her friend, who can’t stop seeing her.

Ben can only think of how beautiful she looks in that blue dress, it’s very different from the beige, white and brown colors that she always uses on the island.

Han notices his son's attitude and gives him a little push to get him back to reality, which works. Ben glances at his father and nods at him, turning to Kiara.

"What?" She laughs.

"You're good? You look tense.

"Yes, it's just that I don't know anyone," He says nervously.

Since when did he act like this? It's still Kiara, the girl who always talks to him, the one who always has a comment for everything. That girl who manages to get the good side out of everything.

"Don't worry, little Ben. I’ve rescued you,” She smiles.

There she is. Ben laughs as the adults watch everything with a mocking smile.

"Well, Han and I must do other things, you’re free to explore the palace and eat all you want. Be careful,”Leia orders and both agree.

When they are alone, Kiara takes a chance to look at Ben's outfit, much like Han's. A white shirt with a black vest and baggy black pants. Her hair is combed back.

"You look very different," She says, drawing his attention.

"You... you too, I've never seen you in a dress,” He says rubbing his neck.

She looks down and moves a little to show the dress.

“It's beautiful… you are, too.”

She looks up and can feel her cheeks burn.

"I mean, yeah, it's not like you weren't before, it's not just because of the dress, it's just that–” Ben rambles and she laughs.

"You also look handsome, Ben.”

They both at look each other directly in the eye. Something they never thought could happen... none had thought before how fast their hearts could beat when seeing or thinking about the other.

———————————————————

During training, some students practice meditation, but not all are focused.

"Stop watching him, just stop, it's not like he’s got something special," Kiara thinks trying to close her eyes.

She can't help but open one in the direction of her friend Ben.

"It is true what the other girls say, he’s grown and now he looks stronger, and he’s very skilled and... his hair is longer, sometimes he gets frustated when he has it over his eyes... those brown eyes... No!" Kiara shakes her head and closes her eyes again.

“Can you turn down the volume of your thoughts? I can't focus,” says a different voice.

Kiara opens her eyes and looks back at Ben, who now has a sly smile. The girl blushes and returns to training listening to the male laugh in her mind.

——————————————————————

"I don't understand why you're upset, I was just talking to Rid!"

"That's what bothers me," Ben answers through clenched teeth. "Why did he need you so badly?"

"I just wanted help with some combat moves!"

Ben raises his eyebrows.

"Oh yeah? Hand-to-hand combat– to be close to you, of course,” He says sarcastically. “Why didn't he ask me for help or Luke or anyone else? ”

"Are you kidding? Although you’re the best in the class, not in a million years would ask you for help, you’d only criticize him and in the end you would not help at all. The others aren’t that good, I was his only option– and Luke? The poor boy barely talks to his friends!”

"Those are not good excuses, I know what he wants!"

“Ben," She complains. "Please stop acting like that, it wasn’t a bad thing.”

"That is your problem," He says, approaching. "You don’t see evil in people, you think that everyone has good intentions, and that’s a serious problem that will bring you more problems."

“What the fuck are you talking about? You're so dramatic about something so unimportant…”

"Unimportant? So you didn't mind that the idiot touched your waist?” She rolls her eyes.

"That's not–” She stops mid-word realizing the situation. Frustration is replaced by a huge wolfish smile.

"Now what?" He asks.

“You're jealous?" She approaches and the boy takes a few steps back surprised by the change of subject.

“Of who? That idiot?” He huffs, making her laugh.

“You're jealous!" She exclaims with a laugh.

"Of course not!"

"You're jealous, little Ben.”

“Enough! You changed the subject, this has nothing to do with–”

"What are you jealous of?" Ben groans. Suddenly the laughter stops and Kiara notices her friend's embarrassed look. She grabs the boy's face forcing him to look at her. “If it bothers you so much that I’m with another boy, it means you have feelings for me. More than platonic.”

They’re both confused, they’d never felt anything like this for anyone. Since the dance, everything is different.

Ben now notices –the freckles on her skin, her sweet smile… The young Solo can’t stop thinking about how she never knows how wonderful that smile can make someone like him feel.

While Kiara would go out of her way to make Ben see how special and unique he is, she knows that her friend can't see how great he is, with every detail he does for her it just shows how big his heart is, even if he appears to be a confident, serious and strong boy, she knows the real insecure Ben, but she’s willing to help him.

"I don't know how I feel," Ben whispers. They’re close, their noses almost touching. "I've never felt like this…”

"Neither did I.”

"What are you doing to me, Kiara?" He whispers again, then joins his lips with hers in a delicate and tentative kiss.

Their first kiss.

Taglist

@oopsiedoopsie23

@blackheartedspider

@fandomshit6000

@thewinterschildren178

#Kylo Ren #ben solo x reader #ben solo #star wars #star wars fanfic #Kylo ren x reader #Home #twoidiots writing

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bamby0304 · 5 years

Text

Her Saviours- Ch.26

Series Masterlist

Summary: During an odd case, the Winchesters came across Y/N, a scared young Omega girl who had been used as a lure for a nest of vampires. After rescuing her from the monsters, John and his sons took her in knowing she was in no state to live among ordinary people. But three Alphas and one Omega is a mixture bound for disaster.

A/N: I know it’s been a while and I’m extremely sorry for that. I haven’t said much as to why I stopped posting because it’s very personal. I also feel the need to point out that it may continue causing writing and posting issues for sometime. I’m sorry... just please be patient with me xx

Warnings: Explicit language. ABO dynamics. Angst. Heat. Smut. Fingering. Unprotected sex. Knotting. Fluff.

Bamby

“This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 866-907-3235. He can help.”

Sam’s hand ran up and down your thigh as the two of you sat in bed, barely dressed, looking over more research. It had been three days since you’d left Dean in the hospital, and during all that time you and the younger Winchester had been fighting for a way to save his brother, and fighting through your heat.

It was still simmering, under you skin, but you felt better. You felt a lot better. Having Sam there to help you through it was amazing. Having him back in your arms, and being back in his… you really never thought the day would come, but you were glad it had.

Even though you’d both been working through your heat, though, it didn’t cloud the urgency of your situation. Of Dean’s situation.

“Hey, Dad, it's Sam,” his voice shook as he spoke into the phone. “Uh… you probably won't even get this, but, uh… it's Dean. He's sick, and uh… the doctors say there's nothing they can do. Um… but, uh, they don't know the things we know, right? So, don't worry, cause I'm uh… gonna do whatever it takes to get him better. Alright...just wanted you to know.”

As he hung up the phone, you got to your knees and moved behind him, wrapping your arms around him. “We’re gonna find a way to save him.”

Rubbing at your arm, he nodded. “I know.” Turning his head, he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay for now,” you assured him. “Let’s just keep loo-”

You were cut off by the sound of a light knock at the door.

Sam tensed, prying your arms away as he rose to his feet. Reaching for the shirt he’d tossed on the floor earlier, he tugged it on as he headed over to the door. Meanwhile, you quickly did some of the buttons of his flannel up, covering yourself.

Looking back at you, Sam made sure you were decent before he opened the door.

“Dean?” Your jaw dropped as you shot off the bed and hurried over to help him inside.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sam asked, a mixture of shocked, happy and confused.

“I checked myself out,” Dean answered as you helped him to the untouched bed.

A look crossed Sam’s face that was less happy and more disapproving. “What, are you crazy?”

Grinning, Dean shrugged. “Well, I'm not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren't even hot.” He chuckled lightly to himself… and then sniffed the air. His smile fell in an instant as his eyes turned to you. “You’re in heat.”

Warmth rose to your cheeks as you gave a tentative nod. “Yeah… I was so stressed… I was so worried… you were dying, and I didn’t know how to cope. And my body must’ve freaked because I was freaking-”

“Hey.” He reached out for you, and you melted right into him. Taking his hand, you took a seat beside him and snuggled into his side. “You’re okay,” he promised.

Sam cleared his throat, shifting on the spot awkwardly. “We've been scouring the Internet for the last three days. Calling every contact in Dad's journal.”

“For what?” Dean asked as he looked up at his brother. You didn’t miss the slight snap in his tone.

If Sam heard it, he chose to ignore it. “For a way to help you. One of Dad's friends, Joshua, he called me back. Told me about a guy in Nebraska. A specialist.”

“You're not gonna let me die in peace, are you?”

“We’re not gonna let you die, period,” Sam corrected. “We're going.”

…

The Impala rolled through the mud and came to a stop in a parking lot full of cars and camper vans. In the centre of the gathered crowd was a tent… with a sign that said ‘The Church of Roy LeGrange. Faith Healer. Witness The Miracle.’.

Dean groaned as he opened his door and glared at the sign.

You slid out of the car first, moving to help Dean. “You okay?”

“Tell me you didn’t know,” he grunted under his breath.

“About the faith healer? I didn’t know,” you assured him. “I’ve been… a little out of it.”

Sam hurried over, then, moving to take his brother from you, to help. “I got ya.”

Pulling away from Sam, Dean turned his glare on him. “I got it. Y/N’s got it.” To prove his point, he leaned on you a little more.

The closer he got, the more you could smell his scent. The more you could feel him. The more you could feel your heat begin to rear its ugly head up again. It wouldn’t be long before you’d need more help… you just didn’t know how that was gonna work now that Dean was around. Things were awkward.

“Man, you are a lying bastard,” Dean snapped at his brother. “Thought you said we were going to see a doctor.”

“I believe I said a specialist,” Sam corrected. “Look, Dean, this guy's supposed to be the real deal.”

“I can't believe you brought me here to see some guy who heals people out of a tent.”

An elderly woman walked passed, then, looking to Dean disapprovingly. “Reverend LeGrange is a great man.”

Dean rolled his eyes at her. “Yeah, that's nice.”

Sighing, you slid your arm through his and let him lean on you further as you started towards the tent. He was slow, and clearly in pain, but he wasn’t fighting Sam on actually going inside, which surprised you.

“I have a right to protest.” The three of you walked by a man standing outside the tent, being pushed along by two officers. “This man is a fraud. And he's milking all these people out of their hard-earned money.”

The sheriff was having none of it, though. “Sir, this is a place of worship. Let's go. Move it.”

“I take it he's not part of the flock,” Dean mumbled.

You chuckled lightly. The hand on his other side reached over and squeezed yours, making you look up at him with a smile.

“When people see something they can't explain, there's controversy,” Sam noted, walking on Dean’s other side.

It didn’t matter how hard Sam tried to convince Dean, he just wasn’t buying any of it. “I mean, come on, Sam, a faith healer?”

“Maybe it's time to have a little faith, Dean.”

“You know what I've got faith in?” Dean didn’t bother waiting for a response before answering himself, “Reality. Knowing what's really going on.”

“How can you be a skeptic? With the things we see everyday?”

“Exactly. We see them, we know there real.”

“But if you know evil's out there, how can you not believe good's out there, too?”

“Because I've seen what evil does to good people.”

As the brothers had bickered, you didn’t notice the young Omega woman listening as she walked behind the three of you. It was then, however, that she stepped forward and turned to Dean.

“Maybe God works in mysterious ways.”

Dean stopped and checked her out before smiling at her. “Maybe he does. I think you just turned me around on the subject.”

She chuckled lightly. “Yeah, I'm sure.”

Letting you go, Dean offered her his hand. “I'm Dean. This is Sam and Y/N.”

You couldn’t deny that him letting you go hurt. You didn’t comment, though. Instead you just tucked your hands into your jacket pockets and took a step back. Right away, as soon as you moved back from the Alphas, you felt your insides begin to churn.

“Layla,” the young woman introduced. “So, if you're not a believer, then why are you here?”

“Well, apparently my brother here believes enough for the both of us.”

An older Omega woman approached them then, placing a hand on Layla’s back. “Come on, Layla. It's about to start.”

Smiling at Dean, Layla let the other woman lead her inside.

“Well, I bet you she can work in some mysterious ways,” Dean muttered under his breath.

“Come on, we should head inside.” Sam gestured for you and Dean to head inside before following you both.

Entering the tent, you didn’t fight Dean as he instantly moved towards the back row. His eyes scanned the place, spotting some cameras.

“Yeah, peace, love, and trust all over.”

It really wasn’t a surprise that Dean had his doubts about the whole thing. The fact he was agreeing to take part in this was big enough, Sam really shouldn’t have expected more from her. But apparently, he did.

“Come on.” Putting an arm around Dean, he started leading him further up the aisle.

“Don't!” Dean grunted, trying to swat Sam away. “What are you doing? Let's sit here.”

Sam was adamant, though. “We're sitting up front.”

“What? Why?”

“Come on,” Sam insisted, pulling Dean along again.

“Oh, come on, Sam.”

“You alright?”

“This is ridiculous.” Dean slapped Sam’s hands away, glaring at his brother. “I'm good, dude, get off me.”

Reaching a row with some spare seats, Sam gestured to them. “Perfect.”

You froze, spotting Layla and her mother sitting right in front of where Sam wanted you to sit. Just… perfect.

When a hand slid into yours, you jumped and turned to Dean who looked from you, to Layla, and then back. Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “Come on.” With his hand still in yours, he guided you to your seat between him and Sam.

Settling in, you watched and waited as everyone else sat down, or gathered around at the back and side of the tent. The anticipation in the air was thick. Looking around, you noticed just how many sick people there were, and how much faith they all had.

Movement caught your eye as a blind man was helped to the lectern by a woman.

“Each morning, my wife, Sue Ann, reads me the news,” the blind man- who you assumed was Roy, the healer- started. “Never seems good, does it?” he asked, prompting the crowd to agree with him. “Seems like there's always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act. But, I say to you, God is watching.”

“Yes he is,” the crowd murmured.

“God rewards the good, and He punishes the corrupt,” Roy went on. “It is the Lord who does the healing here friends. The Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me see into people's hearts.”

Dean leaned towards you and mumbled, “Yeah, and into their wallets.”

“You think so, young man?” Roy asked.

The crowd fell silent as Dean flinched. “Sorry.”

“No, no. Don't be. Just watch what you say around a blind man, we've got real sharp ears.” Roy grinned as the crowd chuckled. “What's your name, son?”

Clearing his throat, Dean hesitated before answering, “Dean.”

“Dean.” Roy nodded. “I want- I want you to come up here with me.”

The crowd applauded Roy’s decision as the woman who had helped him to the lectern now stepped up to stand beside him. She smiled at Dean, gesturing for him to come forward as the crowd cheered him on encouragingly.

Dean didn’t move.

“No, it's ok.”

Sam leaned over you to whisper at his brother harshly, “What are you doing?!”

“You've come here to be healed, haven't ya?” Roy noted.

Again, Dean hesitated. “Well, yeah, but ahh…” he glanced around the room, taking in the still applauding crowd, “maybe you should just pick someone else.”

Roy chuckled. “Oh, no. I didn't pick you, Dean, the Lord did.”

“That's right!”

“Yeah!”

“Come on!”

Encouraged by the excited crowd, Sam nudged his brother. “Get up there!”

Still, Dean didn’t move.

Taking his hand, you felt him freeze as he slowly turned his head to look down at you. It was like all the pressure, and the cheering, and the crowd disappeared as your eyes met.

Squeezing his hand gently, you offered him a small smile. “Please. I know I have no right to push, but… I can’t lose you, Dean.”

His eyes searched yours before he nodded slowly. “O-okay.” Hesitating once more, he then asked, “Come with me?”

Not needing to be told twice, you rose from your seat and helped him to his feet. With your hand in his, the two of you started towards the stage slowly and carefully, while the crowd’s cheering only grew louder.

Reaching the stage, the woman who was waiting with Roy helped you get Dean up so he could stand by the healer.

“You ready?” Roy asked.

Dean glanced at you quickly before turning back to the man before him. “Look, no disrespect, but ahh, I'm not exactly a believer.”

“You will be, son. You will be.” Roy smiled. “Pray with me, friends.”

The crowd lifted their arms and held each other’s hands as Roy lifted his. Reaching over, he placed one hand on Dean’s head as he looked to the tent’s ceiling.

“Alright now,” Roy mumbled. “Alright now.”

Beside you, Dean’s eyes glazed over as his knees grew weak. You tried to keep him up, but he was too heavy as he dropped to kneel on the floor. Still, Roy’s hand remained on his head.

“Alright, now.”

Swaying on the spot, Dean’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he collapsed to the floor.

“Dean!” you called as you got to your knees beside him.

Sam shot out of his seat and ran for the stage. “Dean!”

Around you, the crowd clapped and cheered excitedly.

Grabbing Dean’s face carefully, you watching him with panic. He wasn’t waking up. “Dean! Dean, baby, please. Open your eyes. Please.”

His eyes burst open as he took a deep breath. Looking passed you, it was like he was watching something that wasn’t even there.

“Say something!” Sam demanded, grabbing his brother’s jacket.

“I’m okay,” Dean grunted, looking from Sam to you. “I’m okay.”

…

Pacing the hospital room, Sam couldn’t wipe the excited smile from his face. “So, you really feel okay?” he asked, turning to where Dean was sitting on the edge of an examination table, with you by his side.

“I feel fine, Sam.” Yet… Dean seemed unhappy.

Taking your hand, he fiddled with your fingers as he refused to look at his brother. He’d barely paid Sam any attention since you’d all left the church, slash tent, slash miracle place. Either he’d focused on the horizon outside, or he’d been focused on you.

The door opened as the doctor returned, looking over Dean’s file. “Well, according to all your tests there's nothing wrong with your heart. No sign there ever was. Not that a man your age should be having heart trouble, but, still it's strange it does happen.”

“What do you mean, strange?” Dean asked.

She shrugged. “Well, just yesterday, a young guy like you, twenty-seven, athletic. Out of nowhere, heart attack.”

Dean’s hold on your hand tightened momentarily before he managed to correct himself. “Thanks, Doc.”

“No problem.” Giving a short nod, the doctor left the room once more.

“That's odd,” Dean noted.

Sam, though, was playing dumb. He didn’t want to think twice about the situation. He just wanted to be happy that his brother was okay. “Maybe it's a coincidence. People's hearts give out all the time, man.”

“No, they don't,” Dean argued.

Sighing, Sam shook his head. “Look, Dean, do we really have to look this one in the mouth? Why can't we just be thankful that the guy saved your life and move on?”

“Because I can't shake this feeling, that's why.” Dean pushed himself off the table and let go of your hand as he moved to gather his things.

Watching Dean with a confused frown, Sam asked, “What feeling?”

“When I was healed, I just… I felt wrong. I felt cold. And for a second… I saw someone. This, uh, this old man.” Dean tugged his jacket on. “I'm telling you, Sam, it was a spirit.”

“But if there was something there, Dean, I think Y/N and I would've seen it, too,” Sam countered. “I mean, I've been seeing an awful lot of things lately.”

Dean turned to him. “Well, excuse me, psychic wonder. But you're just gonna need a little faith on this one. Sam, I've been hunting long enough to trust a feeling like this.”

“Yeah, alright,” Sam sighed. “So, what do you wanna do?”

“I want you to go check out the heart attack guy. I'm gonna visit the reverend. And you…” Dean turned to you, “you’re gonna go to the motel.”

“What?” You looked from him, to Sam, and then back. “Why?”

Leaning in until there were a few inches between you, he sniffed the air. “Sweetheart… we can smell you. You might be feeling fine now, but… when was the last flare up?”

Biting your lip, eyes on the ground, you shrugged. “A couple of hours before you showed up at the motel,” you admitted. “But it’s my fourth day. The worst of it is over.”

“The worst might be over, but it’s not done. It’ll be back soon. I can smell it. I can see the sweat on your forehead. Sweetheart, your hands are shaking,” he noted, taking your hands in his. “You need to go to the motel. Please.”

Letting out a huffed sigh, you gave in and nodded. “Okay.”

Leaning in the rest of the way, he pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss before resting his forehead against yours. “Thank you.”

…

Dean had been right… your heat hadn’t been far off.

Left alone in the motel room, you’d lit some scent blocker candles and bolted the door. You had no doubt your stink would be seeping out of the room, threatening to lure any Alpha to you. With you in so much pain, your stomach twisted into terrible cramps as sweat dripped off you, you wondered if you’d even put up a fight if someone barged in.

The brothers had been gone for hours now. Whoever walked in first… you weren’t sure if they’d give you what you needed.

With Dean back, and now healthy, it made things awkward. Even though he hadn’t commented on it directly, you were sure he knew Sam had been helping you through your heat. You just didn’t know if he was okay with that.

You also didn’t know how Sam felt. Was he going to pull back now that you had someone to lean on? Despite all your confusion, you were sure on one thing… you hoped he wouldn’t change. You hoped Sam would continue getting closer to you. Even if there were still boundaries, even if you couldn’t get him back completely, you just didn’t want to lose him all over again.

You didn’t want to lose either of them.

The handle to the motel room door rattled as someone on the other side tried to get in. You sat up in bed, clutching a pillow to your stomach as you waited with bated breath, wondering if it was a friend or foe.

Before you could call out and ask, their scent reached you.

“Sam,” you whispered to yourself as you scurried off the bed.

Unlocking the door with fumbling fingers, you threw it open and looked up at the Alpha before you.

Searching your eyes, taking in the state of you, Sam barely hesitated a second before moving out of instinct. He grabbed and pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you as he walked into the room. Kicking out, he shut the door with his foot and reach behind him to lock it again. Then he turned his full attention back to you.

“You’re burning up,” he noted as you clung it him, whining. Running his fingers through your hair, he looked down, noticing how clammy you were. “You should have called.”

“Didn’t want to bother you…” your eyes fell to his chest, “or Dean.” You couldn’t look Sam in the eye as you suggested being with his brother. You weren’t sure you wanted to see his reaction.

Grunting at you, he reached down and grabbed your thighs, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around him. “You’re not a bother. You’re in heat.”

“But you were bus-”

Lips curling into a displeased frown, he walked you over to the table and set you down. “Never too busy for you.” Leaning in, he buried his nose against your neck and breathed in deeply. “Smell so good, 'Mega.”

Hearing him use that title on you sent a shiver down your spine. Sam’s voice grew huskier the more turned on he was, and the sound of it was like music to your Omega ear. Knowing he wanted you so much, almost as much as you needed him.

Reaching between your bodies, he slid his hand inside your sweats, quickly easing into your soaked pussy. You moaned and whined at the touch, arching into him.

“Wanna be inside you, baby,” he groaned in your ear, thrusting his fingers in and out of you. “Wanna knot you so fucking bad.”

The memory of how much he’d filled you over the last few days, and the stretch of his knot inside you, made your mouth water as you nodded desperately. “Please. Please, Sam, need you.”

Ripping his hand away, he grabbed your sweats and tore them down your legs. You were so grateful you hadn’t dressed for a hunt, having chosen a loose flannel, the sweats, and some socks. Sam did not have the patience to work through layers to get to your skin right now.

You were quick to return the favour, reaching for his jeans as he pulled your panties to the side and thrust two fingers inside you. The intrusion made you fumble as your eyes rolled. You nearly fell back onto the table, losing your balance as he sought out your sweet spot.

The first time he’d explored every inch of your body since your reunion was when you’d woken up after he’d knotted you the first time. Sam had watched your reactions as his hands, fingers, lips and tongue had trailed all over your skin. The way he’d moved, finding every spot that made your toes curl so easily, made it seem like he remembered the way your body worked even after all those years.

Now was no different. Sam found your sweet spot, making your toes curl and body arch as he quickly drew you close to your first climax.

He grinned, watching you with hungry but amused eyes. “Tell me how that feels.”

“So good,” you breathed, almost falling back against the table.

Sam was quick to catch you, however, using his free arm to wrap around your back and keep you up right. The new position allowed him to lean in closer and drag his nose along the column of your neck.

“You can do better than that.”

Whining as his fingers slowed, you tried to mould the feeling into coherent words.

“Tingly. It tingles. Like you’re stroking every nerve.” You shuddered. “And it feels so good. Wanna cum.”

His thumb brushed along your clit, making you jerk against his hand. “Then cum.”

Your hand shot out to clutch at his arm as you toppled over the edge, crying out as the orgasm shook through you. It was quick, but still left you feeling a little light headed. It took the edge off, easing your heat, but you both knew it was nowhere near enough.

A low growl rumbled from his chest as he pulled his hand away from you and finished freeing himself from his jeans. His lips brushed against the shell of your ear as he pushed your panties to the side again and lined himself up.

“What do you want, ‘Mega? Tell me.”

Sliding your hands up his chest, you tilted your neck to the side submissively without any real thought. “Want your knot, Alpha.”

Your body lurched as his hips slammed into yours. There was no warm up, no easing into things. He’d given you an orgasm, and now it was time for his.

Clutching at your hips in a vice like grip that would no doubt bruise, Sam pulled back to watch his cock disappear into you with each brutal thrust. His lips were curled into a ravenous snarl as he fucked you hard and fast.

No longer did he care if you stayed upright. Actually, as your back landed on the cold surface of the table, Sam’s hungered eyes dragged along the curves of your body, drinking the sight in. It only made him fuck you harder, until you felt his cock thrust into your cervix over and over.

Moaning shamelessly, you brought your hands up to squeeze your breasts and pinch your nipples. Sam’s grip tightened as he leaned in, stealing one of your nipples with his lips. Your walls clenched around him as he sucked and nipped on the bud.

With his hips still slamming into yours, his cock kissing your cervix with every thrust, and his lips sucking on your nipple, you came once more.

Your walls squeezed him as you body twitched on the table, as your lips parted on a silent scream. The wave of pleasure that rushed through you was warm, and intense, and made you claw at the table under you as your back arched painfully.

Sam watched you come undone, fucking you through your orgasm as he practically drooled over the sight of you. With your walls squeezing him so tightly, he had no control as he felt his knot thicken. Thrusting once more, Sam spilled inside you as his knot popped, locking you together.

“Fuck,” he groaned, still gripping you tightly.

Rolling your head to the side, you moaned as your body twitched a few more times.

You still hadn’t come down completely as Sam gathered you in his arms and held you to his chest carefully as he moved you both to one of the beds. His movements made his cock tug inside you, which only made you hold onto him tighter and moan.

The two of you curled into each other, his hand rubbing your back soothingly as you felt yourself begin to drift. You just felt so warm, and safe, and satiated.

Pressing a kiss to your head, Sam pulled you as close as possible. “I’ll be here when you wake up,” he promised, making you smile as sleep overcame you.

Bamby

#alpha!sam fanfiction #alpha!sam x omega!reader #alpha!sam x omega!you #alpha!sam x omega!y/n #alpha!dean fanfiction #alpha!dean x omega!reader #alpha!dean x omega!you #alpha!dean x omega!y/n #her saviours

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