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mrsnancywheeler · 4 months

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the lakes (6) // finnick odair x f. reader

merry christmas to all who celebrate, my gift to you 🎄

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

previous chapter / next chapter

midnight rain

5k words

warnings: angst, fluff, SMUT MDNI (y'all better eat it up while it's here bc this might be one of like twice or three times so merry christmas lmao), orgasm denial, teasing, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), slightly mean finnick but also softdom, mentions and allusions to trafficking and sexual trauma, self-hate, manipulation of someone's feelings, allusions to death/violence, pnv, usage of weapons, terms of endearment, no use of y/n, unedited, cumming inside, mental health issues, self doubt, hypocritical reader, savior complex finnick

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Cold air hit your skin as the doors to the training center opened, instantly you could feel the onslaught of goosebumps on your arms. “Remember brush up on skills, knives, spears and number one objective-”

"Katniss.” You finished for him. "You go get your hands back on that trident, and hopefully my instincts will remember what it takes to throw a knife or a spear.”

"If not, work on some survival skills, but I think the instincts will kick in.” You tilted your head to the side, uncertain but humoring the idea. He kissed you softly, “See you soon."

"I'm only going to be a few hundred feet away, Finnick.” You smiled and he did too.

“Well that's a few hundred feet too far.”

"Good thing you can come find me anytime you want.” Squeezing his hand as you reluctantly took a few steps back.

“You don't want to come and admire me back in my element?" He joked, his grin bearing his shining teeth.

“In your dreams, Odair."

“Absolutely!" Finnick's eyebrows quirked up before you finally pulled yourself out of his magnetic field to focus on the more viral thing, survival.

It had been so long since you'd thrown a knife with purpose, over half a decade which had been what you felt most confident in. Of course there had been a couple times, admittedly more than a couple, when your nerves spiked up and a moment where you were simply making dinner, chopping something up, to being spooked by a noise that led to a knife wedged in a wall or cupboard. So Finnick cooked and cut, he wasn't as easily startled or on edge.

This year they had clearly made more of an investment into the training, a little pad verifying it was you when you stood on the elevated block. You took a second before lifting the tiny weapons from where they lay, the weight was instantly familiar in a way that made your chest heave. It felt like you were that same young girl again, trying to see what could help her survive, help her overcome others. Finnick has been right, how to throw a knife, how to throw it to kill, all came back like child's play.

The instant the first hologram appeared it was like your brain went on autopilot, they weren't real but your brain was screaming, survive, survive, survive. Each knife flew from your hand with lethal aim, your arms instinctively knew what to do, how to throw precisely as fast as possible. So you trusted your body when suddenly the simulation was over, you felt your head coming back to reality. It was terrifying, you'd felt like you were in a dizzy high and suddenly you were that same young girl terrified in the arena. Full of guilt and regret for the lives you'd taken.

“I thought your weapon of choice was a spear." A voice cut through your thoughts, bringing your thoughts back to the person you were now. Peeta, ever outgoing and charismatic just as he'd been depicted, with an untrusting looking Katniss not far behind.

“No, that's what was convenient at the end, but the spear was never mine, it was-"

“Conway’s." Katniss finished the name you hated saying, hated remembering for you. “You killed in the Bloodbath with knives and then the girl from District 2." She must have been rewatching everyone's games, learning their tactics.

“Ironic, weren't they the District 2 girl from last year's weapon of choice as well?" You asked, stepping off the platform.

“Yes." She was tense, stiff it radiated off of her, stagnating the air.

“When there's such limited options, it's hard to get much differentiation. You certainly helped mix the bag last year.” Not just with her little bow and arrow, you hoped she knew what you were really saying, but couldn't with the people watching from above. She probably didn't, she was like a guard dog who didn't know whether or not one could be warmed up too, but would always assume the worst.

“I'm glad that was entertaining." Her voice was bitter as if she had no idea that everyone here has gone through the exact same trauma and felt the same way.

“It certainly was for them." You glanced upwards, towards the head game maker and his cronies observing you all like lab rats. “Most of us were." The Morphlings certainly had to be the most boring show of all, to those who couldn't realize it was such a smart tactic to stay alive, even if it didn't make great daytime television.

“You should teach us how to throw sometime." Peeta inserted himself back into the conversation. "If you want, we could teach each other things. I could go over camouflage.” He offered with a smile.

“Yeah of course!" You smiled back. “When you blended into the rocks by that stream, it was truthfully unfathomable in talent to be able to do that."

“And Katniss can shoot, I'm sure you've seen, but she never misses." Katniss shot him a glare, "Just following Haymitch's orders.” Peeta shrugged before his eye was caught by Johanna finishing up with her ax training. “I should get a formal introduction." He was walking away when Katniss spoke again.

“Why'd you volunteer for that girl?" She asked, and you turned your head towards her.

“For Annie?" You felt like it was obvious, but Katniss just nodded. “I wasn't going to put her through this again, that wouldn't have been fair of me. I couldn't let any of them, I couldn't have lived with myself if I had, so I might as well die on that hill now." Your candor seemed to make her less stiff. “You know, she was the first tribute I mentored. Years after my games, I did everything I could to help her win, to prepare her, but I couldn't prepare her for what happened after. Seeing her after that it was like I failed." Annie would forever be known as the one who went "a little crazy.” Maybe that was a blessing though, maybe it saved her from a much worse fate. Katniss' eyes finally looked more soft, not off guard, but not blocked off from your words.

“Even though you know this time only one of you can come out?" Her eyes briefly flickered towards Finnick before landing back on you.

“I'm not expecting to be the one who makes it out and she wouldn't have either. It's worth it to save her, he'll be fine without me." The words were too raw, too much like being stripped naked, but you knew you needed her to trust you and being honest would probably be the most effective route. Of course she couldn't completely trust you if she'd watched your games, you didn't blame her for that, but you just needed a little of it. “It's not different from what you did for your sister, sometimes you just know when that person needs to be protected no matter what that means for you."

Katniss began walking over to where the spears were located, “Like Peeta said, if you show me how to use the spear and the knives, I can show you how to shoot the bow and what plants and berries you can trust." This was her way of some form of acceptance you realized and internally congratulated yourself.

“Sounds like a deal to me." You picked one of the heavy spears up, it was also just as you remembered. It brought back flashes of the boy who taught you how to use it, the boy you'd killed with it. You could tell what she was thinking as you held it, how you used Conway, used his emotions and then his own weapon. “You know, the funny thing is people act like he didn't know, but that’s really what made it so brilliant.” Katniss looked confused as you stepped into the platform, which confirmed it was you. "Looking back you realize how early on he had me figured out and was playing me right back, I really think that's what endeared us to each other in the first place. He was trying to beat me at my own game almost from the beginning and I didn't even realize.” You launched the spear into the first hologram before quickly grabbing the other as Katniss watched on, absorbing the seemingly impromptu rant. “I can't blame him, I don't blame him even if I'm the one who gets it all placed on my head, which I probably deserve." Another spear knocking the hologram figure apart. The final one ready to fly. “You just have to remember who the real enemy is."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

"You two already have an advantage being from District 4, plenty of opportunities to practice with what you would be good at using in lessons. So stick with whatever you were good at then to impress, but don't forget to learn other skills that could be life saving in the long run.” Finnick was breaking down the plan for the two of you as the walk for the first training session with the other tributes was about to ensue. Although it went unspoken you'd also been blessed with extra practice even from back when you were dating Finnick in the district, he was so anxious that he needed to ensure you knew how to protect yourself. That you polished your skills, which he was sure you could do.

"Show off your strengths, but don't forget you're not just impressing the gamemakers, but the approval of other tributes can be vital. Alliances are important.” Ondine added.

Finnick nodded in agreement, “Another advantage from District 4, is the availability of the Career pack of tributes. All of the best trained and prepared tributes, especially if you show off enough to impress Districts 1 & 2 you're both a shoe-in. I'd encourage that as the strongest choice."

“I don't think we should do that." Conway’s voice of disagreement made you stop in your tracks. What was wrong with him? What could possibly be going on in his head that possessed him to argue with your mentor, someone who'd won before? Finnick raised an eyebrow, in a look you could only describe as patronizing. “I'm just saying that also means they're the best prepared to stab us in the back when it comes down to it. If we ally with tributes from a less prominent district it could make it easier when it comes down to it, make it less vicious.” He was delusional, it would be vicious no matter what when there were just a few people left.

You looked at Ondine who’s eyes were closed as she shook her head, Finnick's arms were crossed as he looked at the two of you, and Conway looked expectantly right at you. Then it hit you, this was a test. In order to maintain his trust in the fantasy you'd been carefully creating you'd have to take his side, prove you weren't loyal to every thing Finnick muttered. Even if it was hypocritical it angered you, it felt hellishly unfair that he would put you in a predicament like that. Who cared about the relationship between you and Finnick when he was the mentor offering advice to save both of your lives?

Conway pointed at you, urging you for a response. “I mean, what do you think? I'm just babbling aloud, I'll drop it if you think it's stupid." Maybe you were just paranoid, no, this was definitely a loyalty test. To him your love would mean support, it would mean unwavering devotion. So you painfully forced a caring, understanding look in your eyes, for your muscles to relax, and a loving smile on your face.

“Of course we should keep our options open, I mean we're not even there yet, the Careers this year might not even be the best options. You're right, Conway, we should consider every path to help us." Of course the Careers would be prepared, he was going to get you killed if he kept pulling this. Reasoning that at least your actions were well calculated not blindly emotional scrutinization. It made you slightly resent him, but the answer seemed to satisfy him as he grinned at the other two before beginning to walk again.

The slight spring in his step was obvious to anyone paying close enough attention, it upset you. When you hoped Conway wasn't watching, you shot a look towards Finnick. It was quick, but you grimaced and hoped your eyes could express your annoyance. Although the bob of his head was equally quick you could see he understood and was feeling just as enraged as you felt if not more. How could Conway claim to care about you when he could threaten a potentially life saving alliance to try and prove a point about how much you felt for him over Finnick? Although Finnick still wore a charming smile you could feel him seething and it comforted you somehow to know that he would never, that he would always pick safety, your safety and that he wouldn't stand for Conway’s games either. Even if rationally it did make sense, you were messing with him which both you and Finnick knew, but there wasn't time to think on that when it was life and death.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“You're brilliant, even if it pains me to admit that you beat me to it." Finnick shook his head, smiling wildly. Haymitch had informed you that so far Katniss would have liked you as an ally if it weren't for the package deal that included Finnick. A feat considering all the tributes that wanted to ally with her after her impressive show in the archery station. It had truly been amazing, how smoothly she used the weapon, and how accurate she was.

“Well, you're welcome." You pecked him on the lips, smiling. Sitting down on the bed and smoothing out your robe, Finnick soon followed.

“I love you so much." He mumbled as he crashed down onto the mattress.

“I love you too, Finnick." Your head lay down by his, quietly counting the freckles scattered across his face.

“Staring is rude." His eyes shone with his internal brightness that he couldn't hide from you.

“Isn't that a perk I should get being your wife and all?" He scooted closer, nose brushing against yours.

“I suppose. Don't know why you'd need to, there's no need to memorize when you're stuck with me forever now."

“Good." There was nothing you wanted more than to see his handsome face every day, from when you woke to when you slept and every moment in between.

His hot hands embraced your cold face, making you shiver and he smirked. It was so patronizing, how he knew that his skin to yours was like fire on ice so you had no choice but to melt, but you couldn't stop yourself from softening anyways. Before you could even try and conjure up words to try and call him out, his lips were on yours.

He wasn't aggressive, never, but his gentleness didn't take away from his control. Your lips chased him and suddenly you were beneath him, swept up in his plush lips. Hands searched for him before he pulled his face away. You couldn't stop yourself before you whined at the removal of his lips from yours, pouting at him.

He scoffed, looking down at you slightly condescending, “Really, angel?" You could feel your face heating up as his eyes gazed at you, his hand delicately tracing the hem of your robe. “We don't have to do this, if you don't want to, sweet girl. You have to communicate with me, I don't want to push you, if you even don't feel comfortable you need to tell me." It felt like too much in the moment when it seemed so blatantly obvious that you wanted him, craved him. But it also made you love him so much more.

For so long it had been difficult to even be touched. The Capitol had come in and dug their talons into you, your own intimacy didn't even belong to you. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. You'd tried to push it down, he'd dealt with it for so much longer, since he was so much younger. Pushing it down didn't stop the roots of trauma from taking root deep within your soul though.

You felt guilty for not being able to give yourself in so many ways to Finnick who was unbelievably patient, of course he was, he understood, he cared. When you'd finally grazed your hand against his and let him grab it, the pureness of the touch was enough to make you burst into tears. That made it more difficult too though, your tears. A tactic that had once seemed wise in winning over the Capitol as a sweet, innocent girl had come back to bite you. Echoes of how pretty you were when you cried.

When you'd finally given that part of yourself to Finnick, of your own accord, the will that has usually been taken from you. He'd made sure you wouldn't regret it, he brought back the positives of intimacy which you'd forgotten about. You were so used to calling upon the tears as you zoned out, floated away. But not with Finnick, never with him. Where you both belonged to each other and were truly connected as one.

“Are you comfortable?" You asked softly. It felt selfish that he was so worried about you with what he'd been through as well, like it was too much about you.

Finnick sighed, “Don't do that." You looked at him quizzically, “Averting the question, you shouldn't be doing it to please me, I'll be okay. I wouldn't have gotten this far if I wasn't.” His hand stroked the side of your face which chased each movement. "Are you certain you want this? I'm not going to be upset if you say no, angel.” The way he loved you so deeply to be going step by step wasn't even grating anymore it just made your heart buzz even more.

"I do want this Finnick, I know what to say if it is too much.” The thumb grazing your neck was enough to make your eyes roll back, your entire body sensitive with the waiting.

Finnick nodded, slowly. Making sure you weren't just trying to appease him, "Color?”

You sighed dramatically, "Green.” He tugged your hair lightly, "Ow!”

"So impatient, trying to take good care of my girl and she's too desperate to appreciate it.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

You pouted, “I'm sorry, Finnick. I'm just-" You gasped as his hand slipped in your rope, warm hand grazing the cold, hardness of your nipple. Legs rubbing together, his other hand, instantly sitting between them to hold them still.

“Speak up, angel. Just what?" That's what you appreciated so much, he was dominant, took care of you without the casual cruelty others often used. Of course he could be cruel in the best way, a type that still cared and knew what the line was and respected it.

“Need you, please. So, so bad." Your hands grabbed his shoulders, then the sides of his neck desperately trying to feel more of his warmth.

He hummed condescendingly, “You do?" His hand left your breast to the toe of the robe which he slowly unknotted. You nodded, brows furrowed as you tried to buck your hips. The hand prevented your legs from getting closer together, hitting your inner thigh but not in a forceful manner. “Come on sweet girl, can't you behave for me, won't you be my good girl?" His ocean eyes had you nodding along mindlessly. “Words."

“Yes, please, I just, please I need more."

“So needy." The knot on your robe untied, falling open to reveal you to the crisp air. His hand trailing down to where you needed him most, the feeling already sending shocks through your body. You wanted desperately to buck your hips up once again but resisted. He chucked, “Is this all for me? I haven't even really touched you yet." You nodded desperately, the teasing made you want to cry in desperation. Which was fine, but thinking about it scared you, the way they'd taken away two things that were so natural, so personal would distract you.

“Finnick." You said shakily and the time instantly made his face get serious.

“Are you okay? Do we need to stop?" You shook your head vigorously.

"No, just-” Your fingers fiddled with the blanket, embarrassed, "Can you just take some deep breaths with me?”

"Of course, my love.” He grabbed the hand nervously moving around the blankets to hold it to his heart. “You're okay, in and out with me, angel." You closed your eyes, breathing with him, his heart reverberating through you. “Let me know when you want to keep going or stop." He whispered.

“Finnick, I just want to cry, not in a bad way just it's been so, so ruined for me." Weaponized, sexualized.

He nodded, “You can cry if you want, I'll wipe them away from you." The idea made you want to cry at his sweetness alone.

“Okay." Your voice was shaky, “We can keep going, please." His fingers began moving again, right over your core. Palm slightly running against you and it took all of you to not rub with him. Fingers delicately circling your sensitive nub and you moaned out. The first tears falling which he diligently wiped away with his time and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Is that good?" You nodded blissfully and he swatted at your bareness causing a yelp.

“Yes, thank you Finnick, so good."

“Good girl, such a fast learner." You whimpered, toes curling. “What do you need?"

“In me, please."

“What, my fingers?" He held one hand up, moving them in front of your face. The man was mocking you, he knew what you meant and he kept rubbing your clit, making it nearly impossible to keep verbalizing.

“No!" You stammered out desperately. He smirked and removed his fingers from your bundle of nerves, causing you to hit his arm in frustration before he was grinding his clothed member on you and your hands wrapped around his shoulder tightly. You nodded intently, “Yes please. Want you to be inside of me, want to be one Finnick, yours." It hit you that this was the consummation of your marriage which made your heart swell as well as your need.

“Can't deny you anything, sweet girl." He was such a liar, but right now he followed through. Your hands began pulling down the pants he wore, desperate to free him so he could be buried in your walls. He groaned as your hand grazed his tip, precum dotting it. You licked your lips and he smirked cockily, “Another time, angel."

"How do you want me?” You asked, you'd take him anyway he wanted just to be clenched around him.

"Just the way you are is perfect, wanna see you, beautiful.” He lined himself up with your soaked entrance, "Are you sure, you're ready? Don't need more preparation.” You shook your head vigorously, pushing yourself forward to feel the tip and he grunted.

“Don't need it, so wet, I can take you, promise."

"Only if you're sure.” You nodded again, pouting.

"Please!” You whined and with that he didn't hold back, pushing his full length in and you nearly screamed. Clenching your walls around him, fingernails digging into him.

“That feel good?"

“So, so, so good." You began sliding your hand down, but he caught it tutting in disapproval.

"I've got you, angel, just lay there like a good girl. Let me take care of you too, you're making me feel so good.” His expert fingers went straight back to your clit as he began pounding in and out of you.

“Oh God, Finnick!" Your eyebrows pulled together and eyes snapped shut as he filled you. It was like you were a perfect fit for each other.

“So perfect angel, just looking at you made me think I wasn't even gonna make it into you." Finnick groaned, he knew exactly what you liked, what pace to go. You'd been so used to faking it or them not caring at all, but with him he could get you there so fast, so hard, and could do it over and over so perfectly. His fingers rubbing into your bundle of nerves that had you biting into your bottom lip to stop you from waking the whole floor. Both actions made you want to scream in ecstacy. “Are you close already, angel? Do I really make you feel like that, so fast?” You nodded, dumbly making mindless noises as his hips thrusted in and out. “Me too. I don't know how you do it to me. Where do you want me, stomach, mouth, inside?" His groaning was making his own speech shaky.

“Inside please, need to feel it, Finnick."

“You sure?" He asked, biting down on his bottom lip as your moans from his skilled fingers working their magic as he kept moving inside of you made him even closer.

“Yes, yes, yes, need to be one, just you and me. Need it inside." He pinched the bundle of nerves lightly as he hit the spot inside of you that had you kicking your feet on sheets. “I'm gonna, oh I'm gonna-"

“I know, just wait a little bit longer, angel, I'm almost there. So close, be my good, good girl." You whined, nodding.

“Wanna be so good for you."

He nodded, the words bringing him even closer to the edge as he roughly thrusted into you. “You are, so good, just gotta hold back a little longer." You were sobbing, lost in the high as he wiped away the tears streaming down.

“Feels so good, Finnick, I can't please let me, need to."

“Wait." He said sternly, at this point he felt like he was denying himself too just to watch you squirm and listen to his every word. Grabbing your face softly so your eyes were trained on him, hand still rubbing fast circles on your clit. “Been such a good girl, don't ruin it." His hips started stuttering inside of you.

You shook your head, “I won't, I'm sorry. Wanna be good." He let go of your face with his free hand and pinched your nipple. “Finnick, please, I can't. Please don't be mean, I need you.”

"Making me feel so good, my love. Clenching around me, trying to hold back, you're such a good listener." He pinched your clit again, he was being mean, he couldn't deny it but the way you cried out and started trying to push away from him was bringing him straight to the edge. “Color?"

“Green." You choked out, “Please, Finnick, I can't." Your hands pushed against his chest.

"Then you know what to say, angel." He raised an eyebrow, “So you can." It would feel so much better, be so much harder for both of you the longer he kept this up. His lips attached to your breast and you tugged his hair, he moaned onto you and the vibrations had you desperately trying to fend off the orgasm approaching.

“Please, I need to. I know you are too." He thrust into that special spot in you again and your hands hit the sheets in frustration as your eyes fluttered.

“Be patient, don't be a brat." He pulled away from your breast to look at you. He pressed down on your clit and thrust into you again, “Oh god, gonna let go inside of you now, angel. Be all over your walls, gonna feel so good. Been such a good girl, you ready to let go of me."

“Yes, please!"

“You can let go, sweet girl." His lips pressed to yours to quiet both of you moans as you finally both let yourself go. You could've sworn the way his split inside you made your shaking even harder. It was so good, so worth it.

You were nearly breathless when you pulled away, “That was new."

“Are you okay?" He asked, eyes full of concern.

“Yeah, of course. I just, you're always incredible, I'm great.” You laughed breathlessly.

"Oh, good.” He let out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

“Thank you."

“You don't have to thank me, angel."

“Yes I do, they've taken so much of both of us and you just bring so much of it back to just being so real, so it doesn't feel like they own it anymore."

“That's just being a decent human, I just want to take care of you. Through all the ups and downs." He was so kind, it made you ecstatic that for as long as either of you were alive you'd always be one with each other, bonded through everything you loved. “Come on, we have another long day tomorrow, let's get cleaned up."

“What if we just didn't go, just laid here together, until it passed."

“I'd love to." His eyes were earnest and like pools you could drown in, “Nothing I want more than being with you forever. But they'd drag us out and we have things to do, my love.” He helped lift you up from where you lay comfortably. Your nose scrunched up." What?”

You pulled apart your thighs, "So sticky.”

He laughed before he could stop himself, "Well I'm not the one who asked for it.” That smug, loveable ass.

"Shut up, you loved it.” Softly shoving his arms as you went to stand.

He raised his arms in defense, "Guilty as charged."

He was so perfect, the way he was so effortlessly funny, so compassionate for all your needs even if you didn't verbalize them, how patient he was yet so stern and guiding. Much too good for what you could give him, you'd go to hell and back to do half as much as he did for you. Of course he always assured you of all you did to help him, but it felt so miniscule compared to what he did for you. The things you would sacrifice to help him, to be by his side were unmatched.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you so much for reading!! I haven't written smut in so long and this really isn't a smut heavy series but I felt like exploring how what snow did to the victors who were deemed to be desirable would effect their intimacy and sometimes a little spice is needed to deal with all the angst I write. if you enjoyed it feedback is always appreciated, likes, comments, reblogs, anything and my ask box is already open if you have any questions or ideas! thank you all so much for reading 💋

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water-to-drink · 1 year

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Ghost Puncher

(Characters): Scaramouche, Childe, & Xinyan

(Summary): After moving into a new apartment you realize there’s a ghost haunting it, but you don’t plan on making it easy for the ghost

(Warnings): Cursing, like a lot of cursing, reader almost dies, Scara is referred to as ghost until the last part, not proofread, (let me know if I miss anything)

(A/n): Heavily inspired by the 4chan greentext post of the same name, you can listen to a reading here, wrote this in one sitting, and don’t anything in this too seriously

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Finally having months of saving and looking for an apartment you found one! You were surprised when it was cheap and in a nice place which means everything is a lot more expensive

Everything seems to going your way until on your way back from food shopping, an air conditioner almost falls on your head; had you been a few steps closer it definitely would have landed on you

Despite being shaken up by this, you chalked it up to it being a near freak accident and continued with your day

After that incident you noticed a lot more unusual things happen around or to you. It all culminated when while watching tv you noticed the little silver charm you carry for protection was melted. It wasn’t hot, it was cold to the touch

Suddenly the lights went off, you know your electric bill had been paid so maybe a power outage? No. You can see the block still have there lights on. So what the fuck?

A loud scream turns your attention towards a corner of the room that’s drenched in darkness

You grabbed the bat you always kept near the tv and swung it at the noise

The bat hit something and the screaming stopped

The lights turn back on and you see that your bat connected to the wall, making a hole in it

Well shit, that’s something you’re gonna have to deal with later. You decided to call it a night and go to bed

The next day as you were about to make yourself dinner you see a shadowy figure run towards you. While trying to escape the figure you ran out of the apartment and the moment you got out, your front door slammed shut

“What the FUCK?!?!?!”

“Oh you’re the unlucky person who just moved into that haunted apartment?”

A tall man with messy orange hair asked while he rummage for his keys in his pocket

You stood there dumbfounded, your apartment is haunted by a fucking ghost. You should’ve noticed something was up with how cheap rent was. Usually a normal person’s response to this revelation is to move out, but that’s bitch behavior and you weren’t raised to pussy out when things get tough

“Hey are you okay…?” Your neighbor asked concerned about your silence

“Yeah, I’m good.” You muttered as you made sure you had your phone in your pocket, which you did. “I need to do some shopping.”

You walked down the hall, not giving your neighbor a chance to respond to you. If he said something then you didn’t hear it over you thanking your older relatives constantly nagging to wear shoes inside so you don’t get sick. You walked outside with your house shoes on, another reason to be pissed at the ghost

After a few hours out, you finally came back into your apartment

You put your bags down and continue to make yourself dinner. When you needed to chop some vegetables, you walked towards the bags and pull out the ouija board you bought. Taking it out and washing it you used it as a cutting board

“You know you ain’t shit, ghost?” You said as you chopped onions. “You’re doing all this poltergeist shit to make me scared of you. You can eat my ass with this bullshit!”

Once done cutting up the vegetables, you started stabbing the knife into the ouija board

“Bitch ass ghost! Trying to make me leave MY HOUSE!!!!” You said as you stabbed into the board

The board was unusable when you were done. You broke the ouija in half and threw it in the garbage can

After that whole ordeal you took your plate and had dinner

A few days have passed and you gotten to know your neighbors pretty well, the ginger who told you your apartment is haunted was a pretty cool guy. He introduced himself as Childe and introduced you to another neighbor just on a different floor, Xinyan. You’re at a cafe with your new friends, well you’re outside making a call while the two talk. You eventually got back to the table and apologize for leaving them

“Don’t be, must’a been important to make it outside.” Xinyan reassured

“Were you calling a priest? The noises in your apartment have been loud as of late, louder than when the last person lived there.” Childe said as he took a sip from his drink

“No I was leaving a voicemail to my house. I got one of those old house phones that tells you the message someone left.”

“Uhh… What was in the message?” Xinyan asked almost afraid of your answer

“I told the ghost if I find my shit all over the place, I’ma slap the shit out it.”

Xinyan and Childe looked at you like you were crazy (which has some truth to it to be doing what you’re doing)

“What…” Childe said in disbelief and horror

“The other night when it was screaming I took my bat and swung around, and I connected with something fleshy a few times so I knows I’m serious.”

Your two friends shared glances at each other, not sure if they should call a priest or a psychiatrist for you

The next day you were visited by Xinyan and Childe. You greeted them and saw how the smiles on their faces quickly turned into looks of pure horror

Your walls has messages written all over it such as: bitch ghost, suck my dick ghost fucker and a lot more they don’t want to repeat

“Please don’t mind the mess.” You lead them in with a smile

How can you still smile when in a situation like this?!

Xinyan puts the container full of cookies on your coffee table and noticed a book with multiple pages torn from it

“Ermm, what’s this book here and why are there pages missing?” The rocker asked hesitantly

“It’s a book about demons, I’ve been blowing my nose and wiping my ass with the pages.” You explained nonchalantly

Yeah, definitely a psychiatrist

Before the two can express their concerns high pitched screaming filled the apartment

Childe tries to shield Xinyan with his body while you went and grabbed your trusty bat

“Showing your ass, now that there’s people here?!?!” You yelled as you looked for a shadowy figure to hit

Not seeing one you opted to start hitting the wall, the screaming got more intense, you didn’t know if was Xinyan and Childe screaming at you, or the ghost, or both. You didn’t care so you kept making holes in the wall

“Oh my god! Stop! Stop!!!” A disembodied voice shrieked

A short man with indigo hair and blue eyes materialized in front of you

Xinyan started screaming uncontrollably and you smashed a hole in the wall, making a pre-existenting hole bigger

“Don’t scream! You’re giving this musty fucker more power!” You yelled as you try to undo what Xinyan did by making another hole

“Don’t make anymore holes in the wall! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” The ghost exclaimed

“You’re attached to this apartment?” You asked

“Yeah, jackass! Why would I be haunting you if I didn’t have an attachment to this place?! So stop destroying it!!”

“Why should I? You’re just going to keep being a dickhead!” You asked while readying your bat

“I promise I won’t haunt you anymore! The screaming, the flickering lights, all that, just stop!”

You lowered your bat and turned towards your neglected guests

“You guys hungry?”

The ghost stayed true to his word, he didn’t cause you any problems. In a sense you have a roommate who’s a ghost. He seems cool, a bit of an asshole, but he gets quiet real quick when you reach for the bat. Other than that he’s a good friend you learned his name, Scaramouche, but you just call him Scara for short

Xinyan and Childe still can’t believe you scared a ghost so much to the point the ghost had to tell you to stop. They’ve gotten used to him though, you four even come together to play games and watch moves. And that’s how you got the nickname “Ghost Puncher”

#genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #don’t take this too seriously

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distressednoise · 2 months

Text

WIP wednesday

Back on my bullshit (sad brassian in under-described liminal spaces) and actually have a WIP on WIP wednesday for the first time in ::checks calendar:: we do not speak of it.

In which Cassian hits a snag on the way home from Mimban, but luckily Brasso has terrible taste in men.

The code sending the comm belongs to Pellan, a hook up from months ago; a Pre-mor flunkie on a stopover between outposts, half out of uniform when he met Brasso and keen to lose the rest.

The face when he opens it, though, is a stretched-out, scruffed-up version of - “Cassian?”

“Yes! I fucking told you.” This is to someone off screen, presumably Pellan, and in a voice several tones lower than Brasso expected. In profile, Cassian's face is sharper and grubbier than it first seemed, and framed by an embarrassing set of adolescent mutton chops that dream of one day becoming a beard. It'd been Brasso's situation, the last time they saw each other. Maarva has a holo of them from that time, and looking at himself in it makes Brasso feel old.

“Do you know this person?” Pellan asks, shouldering his way on screen.

He doesn't know Pellan that well. He can't tell where they are from the background of the holo: it's just their faces and a patch of suspiciously sterile patch of wall.

“He does! Brasso, you know me and you know how sick my mother is -”

“Stop talking.” Pellan's tone isn't mean enough to raise Brasso's hackles. It's the tone he remembers everyone taking around - fucking hell, Cassian - back when he was mouthy and undersized and keen to bite the underbelly of every bigger kid on the block. “Just. Sit down again. Brasso -”

There's some shuffling and a floating shot of Pellan's jaw as he takes himself and his comm out of Cassian’s considerable range of interference. It has the same mutinous set Brasso remembers from the bar.

“We have a slight situation here, and I do not want it to end up as a full situation, because in full situations I fill out sixteen different scandocs and people with ‘sector’ in their job title learn my name. Your friend is trying to get through the corporate border on a military pass, which is legal but -” a tired grimace “- against company policy, so I'm supposed to tell him it's faulty and he has seven days to fix it, after which I can bust him for loitering if he doesn't find a new chip or falsifying access information if he does, and he'll go to Imperial custody and toward my arrest number, or he can lodge an appeal under the long term residency exemption, which will automatically be approved but he'll be on an undisclosed Imperial watchlist for five years and someone will have to file a report on his movements every forty five days, and that someone will not be me, but that someone will unlock a cross team performance incentive if they achieve a ten per cent uplift on watchlist detentions cycle on cycle, so good luck with that. And then of course you're a named associate of a detained watch listed individual, so you go on the list, and someone reports on you every forty five days, and you also count toward our detention uplift target for the quarter, so.”

There's a pause for Brasso to react. When he doesn't, Pellan feels compelled to add, “That's bad.”

“Right.” It was almost definitely the wrong call to answer this comm before getting dressed.

“Right! So I suggested maybe he'd had his scandocs stolen and I could issue him a temporary pass if he just had a few key details, but they were issued when he was in prison - I should not have heard that he was in prison, Brasso, that's 101 - and he's never seen them, so he doesn't know the most basic things -”

“His mother will have -”

“His mother is apparently deathly ill and cannot possibly get on a shuttle to bring him anything, which would be terrible if it were true. My sympathies to that woman, in potentia. However, because he is technically an unaccompanied minor for the next, uh, seventeen hours, I can notarise an individual known to the family to collect him and produce a copy of his stolen documents on her behalf. So this is me officially notarising you, and also letting you know that if you take seventeen hours to get here I'm going to strangle him.”

Brasso has several questions about an unaccompanied minor being on a military pass and that not being a flag unto itself, but at least he knows how old Cassian is now. “Where are you?”

“Gate B, so like, two moons from you? Hey, should have called more, sorry neighbour. But seriously, whatever operation you're running needs to tighten up because ‘prison’, pri-son, is an extremely automated red flag and if I had bothered to do any basic system maintenance in the last six months there would be a half dozen alerts on their way to Pre-Mor by now.”

Operation, Brasso mouths, dully. He's starting to think he and Pellan remember that night very differently.

#wip wedneday #brassian #my writing #this is largely a deranged corporate monologue for which i can only apologise but will not stop

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randomcollectionitem · 6 months

Text

clipping. - Face

https://www.discogs.com/release/11980126-Clipping-Face

Hey, we finally had a record show up! This is the 2018 vinyl reissue of the 2012 debut EP from beloved industrial rap trio Clipping (they stylize it as "clipping." but it fucks up my formatting mojo so I'm sticking to the capital C for this one). The A side is the original 3 track tape, and the B side is remixes and an acapella. This version was released by Deathbomb Arc, the same label that put out the original EP.

I was a little late to the Clipping party and got on board with them shortly after the release of their semi-self-titled debut album, CLPPNG. CLPPNG dropped right after Death Grips broke up and the hype surrounding Clipping on the internet was mostly /mu/ posters heralding them as The Next Death Grips. I always thought that comparison was questionable. Outside of a vague sense of being in the same genre they don't share a lot of DNA, with Clipping pulling heavily from harsh noise and power electronics in contrast to Death Grips' sample-heavy sound fueled by math rock-adjacent live drums. Regardless, the JENNY DEATH WHEN era hype train brought Clipping in front of a relatively big audience of outsider rap nerds looking for another hit of bizarre sounds, and they brought it in spades. After listening to CLPPNG an embarrassing number of times I worked my way back to midcity (their first mixtape) and Face. Face really stuck with me, so I was thrilled to see it reissued in 2018 and picked it up immediately.

The original EP is a short-but-sweet three song affair that wastes no space and takes no prisoners. The opening track, the eponymous Face, is a blistering assault of lighting fast bars, blasts of noise, and a catchy x-rated chorus. It's followed by Studio Freestyle 01, which serves as a sort of mental breather in the middle of the list (as much of one as Clipping will give you at least), with mid-tempo freestyle verses alternating call-and-response style with bursts of harsh noise. The EP rounds out with Block, my personal favorite track from the project. Block showcases Daveed Diggs' uncanny ability to make even the smallest things seem profound and significant. A song about nothing becomes a song about everything as he paints a picture of a city block on top of a slow-burning beat. There are no characters. There is no action and no narrative. And that's the beauty of it.

The B side is a collection of remixes backed with an acapella of the first track. I'm normally not a huge fan of remixes, but the selection here is a fun listen. The first two are remixes of the title track, with the first turning it into a stompy industrial club tune and the second chopping it into a wall of samples (including a shockingly straight-faced interpolation of Gangnam Style, and a slightly less straight-faced interlude of the intro to Never Gonna Give You Up). This is followed by Clipping's remix of This Song Is A Drug Deal, by LA noise rock drum-and-shout group Foot Village. It chops up the spastic drums from the original song and uses them as a bed for some verses from Daveed. The side closes out with the acapella of Face, not exactly critical listening but I'm glad it's out there for DJs and remix artists to take advantage of.

As previously mentioned, the copy in front of me is the 2018 Deathbomb Arc vinyl issue, the only vinyl issue to date. The 2012 original pressing was only on cassette, and this deluxe reissue was also available on cassette with an expanded tracklist containing additional Face remixes. I opted for the vinyl version because, frankly, I lived through tapes the first time around; they sucked then, they suck now, and part of me withers away every time I have to buy a new one. Regardless, the vinyl edition is simple but well-presented. The album art still looks good when blown up to 12"x12", and they did a nice job typesetting the back cover. It includes a download code for the download-inclined, and opts for a polybag rather than a paper inner (I breathe a sigh of relief every time I open a new record and don't need to immediately resleeve the LP, records are too damn expensive now for these labels to cheap out with the crappy paper inners that shed everywhere and scuff your new record up). The pressing is fairly shallow, but my copy plays well with little to no surface noise. The sound is a bit dull, but it's not exactly a hi-fi recording in the first place so I'm not going to complain. No inserts or liner notes on this one, but an EP doesn't really need all that anyways. Overall I think they've done a nice job with the reissue.

I think the beauty of Face is that it paints a fairly complete picture of Clipping in only 3 tracks. You have the high energy sonic assaults, you have the artsy contemplation, and you have the fearless harsh noise and power electronics interludes. While it's not their most essential work, if you want a short elevator pitch for why you should care about Clipping, this is it. A great start to a legendary career. Rest assured, if I keep doing this long enough we'll see plenty of other Clipping releases in the future, so strap in for some more noise rap greatness down the road. In the meantime, may your music stay pleasantly abrasive and may your preferred genitals be in your face.

#album review #discogs #random collection item #face #clipping.#industrial hip hop #noise rap #vinyl #LP #deathbomb arc #clipping #now spinning

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sheetsonfire · 2 years

Text

We'll Always Need Each Other | Part 3

Fandom: Chicago PD

Characters: Jay Halstead, Sister!Reader, Will Halstead, Intelligence

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Warnings: violence, swearing, abduction, ptsd, torture

Word Count: 3330

Requested By Anon: Hey ! From Resanoona I saw that you're making halstead sis imagines ! Can I request one were Jay and the sis have a big fight but then someone kidnaps her ? And Jay is all worried and when he found her she's like bleeding out (she's been shot) ? But she makes it and they both apology (fluff at the end) ? If you dont want to do it s'okay, just if you do it please can you put it with fem sis reader ? Not gn ? Thanks !

A/N: This is Part 3, here's Part 2, and We'll Always Need Each Other Part 1

Jay’s got two windows open on his computer, one is scans of his old case notes from the investigation that had gotten Parr arrested, and the other window contains the sickening footage of you trapped with the man himself. Jay knew it was only a matter of identifying which old haunt you had been taken to, the only snag was that Parr never stayed in one place for long, chopping and changing locations was what made him so hard to catch in the first place.

Across from him and Will sat Hailey and Kevin, going frame by frame to see if they could spot any identifying factors within your surroundings, things that would help them narrow down your location. They also had headphones on, trying to dissect the soundscape for identifying markers like construction work, the sound of the L, or the pier, for example.

At their respective desks, Adam and Voight had started going through the proverbial phone tree of CIs that could help with intel, any information on Randy’s movements from the moment he left prison to now was the desired outcome.

The room was full of a thrumming hubbub of activity, no stone was going to be left unturned to get you back home to your brothers.

Next to Jay, Will is staring in a trance at the footage of you, watching it over and over to try and catch something with the rest of the team. Eyes burning with stress and frustration, he finally catches sight of something on the back wall of the room you’re in, only for a fraction of a second. He instantly hits pause and then goes back a few frames, until the faded yellow block lettering was at its most visible. It was a metal poster screwed into the decaying brick, the title could be partially read and it was enough to get Will’s attention.

“Jay?” Will nudges his brother.

“Yeah?” Jay snaps his head to attention, looking at your brother’s screen on the old laptop Trudy had given him. He knew he was getting special dispensation to be looking at these things as a civilian and relative.

“Look at this, I think this is a poster with abbreviations they use for metal engineering. Dad used to have something like this at his work.”

“So we’re looking for somewhere connected directly to metal production or engineering. This is good, Will. This is really good…” Jay trails off, a thought turning in his mind as he immediately starts putting something into the search parameters of his case notes.

Jay slams the table in satisfaction, making the others jump. “Got you, you fucker.” Jay mutters. Turning to the rest of the room, “Guys, I think we’ve got it. Will spotted this poster on the back wall, it’s only there for not even a second but it's an old metal engineering abbreviation guide.”

The others get up from their seats, moving to surround Jay’s desk once again, Voight slipping out of his office at the sight of movement.

“Look” Jay repeats the frames on the footage a few times, then matches it up with a poster from his internet search. Then, from his case notes, he brings up a scanned deed document for a sheet metal engineering works.

“This is the deed to a sheet metal production company Parr’s uncle owned until he passed two years ago.” He then clicks open another section, showing his comments on the uncle and the shop.

“We never found anything connected to Parr there, no DNA from victims, no unusual amounts of blood, or any illegal substances. The uncle was cleared of any connection, and we disregarded the location. But I’m willing to bet that this fucker has taken control of that workshop and is using it for this bullshit. He’s got Y/N there, Sarge. I know it.”

He can feel the adrenaline vibrating through him, eyeing the others looking for their input. Voight mulls it over for approximately 30 seconds before nodding, already grabbing his jacket, radio and vest.

“Let’s get surveillance going, I want pods, I want as up to date surveyance records as you can get. Upton, you’re gonna run point from here, I’ll send Platt to assist. I want everyone else out there with me and we’re gonna nail this sick bastard once and for all, Y/N is coming home. Let’s go!”

With the sound of chairs sliding, the commotion of jackets, vests and equipment, in one fell swoop, the bullpen is left empty. Down in the lower comms office was now the quieter yet still fervent activity of Hailey connecting to radios, pod footage and various maps in the area of the metal works, in addition to the sound of Trudy sitting in a chair to join her.

“Let’s see what we got, kiddo.” Trudy nods in Hailey’s direction.

Hailey smiles, Trudy always gave her a heightened sense of determination, “We’re gonna get this sonofabitch.”

Will was obviously riding in the truck with Jay, foot bouncing restlessly in the footwell, Jay side-eyes your other brother but doesn’t comment, he knows if he wasn’t driving he’d likely be doing the same.

Hailey’s voice breaks in over the radio, [“Sarge, I’ve got confirmation of a vehicle matching the description of our BOLO parked approximately one street over from the metal works. I’ve requested an ambulance be on standby in the area, and to be under the instruction of Dr Will Halstead if required.”]

[“Copy you, Hailey. Keep us informed. I want to know about any movement, arrivals and departures.”]

[“Yes, Sarge.”]

Jay glances at Will, knowing just how helpless he feels when he can’t hands-on control or fix a situation immediately.

“I’m gonna need you to stay in the truck at first, okay? I brought an extra radio and a medic vest. Just stay with the truck, once the area is cleared I’ll radio for you to come in.” Will glances at Jay, silently asking the question, “What if she’s not there, Jay?”

Jay’s jaw is clenched, he knows it’s a possibility but he’s not willing to let that enter his mind right now. “She’s gonna be there, I know it. I’m going to get her, Will. We both are. I’m gonna make this right.”

Will squeezes Jay’s shoulder. “I know, man. I know.” Letting out a breath as he focuses on the road ahead.

After they had made the video, Parr instructed the ‘cameraman’ to drag you back to the room you had been held in. The zip ties had rubbed your skin raw around your wrists and ankles, every movement no longer just stinging but an altogether more intense throbbing deep in your flesh.

You’re fighting to stay awake, hoping that at any moment your rescue would come and you’d need your energy to escape. You tried to look at the masked figure dragging you by your arms across the abrasive concrete floor, down a moulding corridor towards the room from whence you’d come. You almost don’t recognise yourself as a hoarse, broken, “Please.” comes out of your mouth. You’re certain that anything you had to say was fruitless, but it didn’t stop you from trying on autopilot.

Nausea had been swarming your senses the entire time, but now as you approach the room, you feel a sense of dread accompanied by a jolting inside you, you don’t even have time to warn the man before you’re rocking to the side to vomit up the back of his legs, wheezing and retching as the fiery agony roars inside you. You’re unceremoniously dropped by the hands dragging you as he feels the contact of your insides hit him,

“Jesus Christ, you stupid bitch!” He exclaims, not caring that he had let your body smack against the stone floor. You cannot stop coughing as you dry heave, the pain from being dropped is merely another minor detail as you see blood mixing in with the bile next to you. You were certain you would die before anybody found you.

“Get up!” The masked man snaps. Wanting to hurry the process of locking you away so he could clean himself up.

If you were in better condition you’d rip into this man for trying to ask you such a thing, it was pretty damn clear you weren’t capable of standing unassisted. Between the damage internally and the radiating, sharp, burns on your already swollen leg, it was an unaskable task.

“C-...ca-can't.” You barely get the word out before a fist slamming into your cheek sends you into another realm of shock, gasping for some kind of control over the pain you were feeling, but failing. Tears squeeze themselves from your rapidly swelling eye. In almost an instant a sensation of heaviness begins to consume you as, once again, you lose consciousness.

“This is it, this is the street.” Jay murmurs, parking up away from the facility so as not to get made.

Will can see the others have done the same, slotting themselves between other neighbourhood cars.

Will slips his vest on and keys his radio so he can be ready, spotting further up that the ambulance had also tucked itself into the street. He decides he should at least introduce himself to avoid any confusion in the pandemonium that was likely about to ensue.

Slipping out of the truck he silently waves down Jay, gesturing towards the ambo as your other brother nods in confirmation and permission.

Joining the others Jay moves up to the side entrance of the warehouse, watching in anticipation as Adam uses a reader to scan for sources of body heat.

The next time you come to, you realise you can’t have been out that long as your captor still had vomit stained jeans, deciding that the punch wasn’t enough punishment you watch through a half-open eye as he lifts his foot, heavy boot coming to press firmly on your injured leg.

You can’t stop yourself from screaming in utter despair as the burning becomes all the more intolerable, squirming to get out from under his trap.

“That’ll teach you.” He growls, spitting at you as he removes his foot, heading towards the door which he slams upon his exit.

Just as Adam is getting his readings back, they hear you. It sends Jay’s blood cold as he hears your guttural scream of agony, ready to surpass Kevin and the battering ram to use his own sheer force of will to save you. But Voight catches his shoulder, Kim pushing against his chest.

“Wait.” Voight hisses. “We need to do this right, split up, take different entrances, make sure we get to Y/N safely, you’re no good to her dead and neither are we.”

Jay’s body is still trying to move on autopilot but it’s Kim who tries this time, “Jay, she needs you to be okay, to be clear-headed for her, she can’t have you being reckless. Do you know how crushed she’ll be if you get hurt trying to save her? Just stop, think, we can do this the smart way.”

Jay’s feet falter, shoulders sagging as he watches Adam walk further up to make sure there were no more surprise bodies inside. He checks his watch, there could potentially be a new video in a few minutes, his stomach sinking with every passing second.

“Hurry it up, if we get to a minute and we aren’t going, I’m busting in.” Voight nods, he knew Jay was more than serious about his words. The sergeant looks to Adam who holds up 4 fingers, but then holds up a ‘wait’ gesture, jogging over. “4 assailants, there’s a 5th reading but it’s… the body heat isn’t as high, I think that’s Y/N.”

Jay swallows, eyeing Will who’s trying to make sense of the situation without being able to really see what they were doing or discussing from so far away.

Voight makes a decision, guiding Jay to stand with him,

“Kevin, Adam, take this door… Kim and Jay, we’re going to the other side, whoever finds Y/N protect her at all costs, take down whoever you have to, confirm the all-clear.”

There are silent nods as the team separates to come and find you once and for all.

Not even a minute after the door slams behind the masked figure it reopens again, this time it’s Parr looking very pissed off.

“You messed up my man’s clothes, he’s not happy. You got vomit all over my floor, tsk tsk. And what’s worse is that your precious brother thinks he’s here to save you…”

He smiles with a sneer.

Your eyes widen as you process the words. Jay had found you?

“Yes, that’s right, he’s outside, looking very eager on the cameras I might say. But he’s going to be very disappointed, Y/N, you’re not going to be in a salvageable condition.”

You’re shaking on the floor, instinctively curling in yourself to protect your body from whatever is about to come. You hear the unmistakable cocking of a gun…

The seconds merge, on the outside, Kevin and Jay pull back their arms to swing the ram into their respective doors. On the inside, Parr’s finger is not even a centimetre from pulling the trigger.

In one instant collision of action, Parr’s finger squeezes the trigger, a resounding fire of the gun and the sound of a bullet piercing the flesh of your shoulder fills the air. He turns, almost robotically, in the direction of the main corridor. Determined to go and face Intelligence without so much as a pause. Leaving you wide-eyed and gasping for breath, your weak and bound hands trying to clutch at the blood oozing profusely from your wound, the wasp-like sting of the bullet inside you only intensifying by the second.

The noise briefly startles the team before all hell breaks loose, Voight barks “Breach, breach, breach!” as both Jay and Kevin swing their rams into the doors, with an unrelenting desire to get to you and take out Parr and his men, everyone moves swiftly and expertly, checking each run down room full of old tools and machines, discarded scraps of metal and construction wear.

There are sounds of scuffles, yelling and ultimately gunfire as alternating calls of “Clear!” come over the radio, Kim, Voight and Jay making swift work of two individuals in masks, whilst Kevin and Adam handle one more masked assailant. The only two missing now were Parr and you.

[“Jay?! Someone? What’s happening?”] Will’s radio crackles to life with a pleading agitation.

[“Will, we’ve got some of them, I have to get Parr and I’ll have Y/N soon, just sit tight, do not engage anybody that leaves the building. Am I clear?”]

[“Copy you, Jay. Just please, hurry.”]

The paramedics in the ambo were familiar with Will, and he recognised them too. Enough that they felt they could pat his back in comfort, reassuring him that it would be okay.

Kevin and Adam are making their way towards the middle where they would find Jay, Kim and Voight also. To the left of them, they hear a scuffle of noise, instantly pointing their weapons in that direction. With nimble steps they stay close together, inching forward against a wall until they reach the doorway to the room. They don’t have time to even process the state of the room as their senses are overwhelmed with the smell of blood and vomit, revealed to them was the horrific sight of your trembling figure, gasping for breaths as blood spilt between your fingers and onto the thin mat beneath you.

Kevin drops to his knees in an instant, laying you flat so he can put sufficient pressure on the wound. He apologises repeatedly as you cry out for him to stop. “I’m so sorry, girl, this is gonna save you. Be strong, Y/N, I got you. Jay’s coming.”

Your eyes are still wide with agony and terror, only showing signs of true recognition when Kevin says Jay’s name. “Kev…? Jay…coming…”

Kevin’s chest aches for you, you were so beaten, so hurt and through it all, it was your brother that made your eyes fill with even the slightest bit of hope.

“Yeah, that’s right. He’s here, Will’s here too. They’re coming, just hold on for me. We’re gonna get you an ambulance, make you right again.”

You’re faintly aware of Adam’s urgent request for backup and the ambulance, giving Will directions on how to find you and them from the entry point they had taken.

Jay hears the commotion over the radio, almost sagging to the ground in relief that you had been recovered. But there’s little time to even think as Randy Parr comes into view in front of Jay, Kim and Voight.

Your brother and the other two officers aim their weapons without a single blink, watching with disgust as Parr smiles.

“Ah, it’s too late, Halstead. You’re done. She's done.” He shrugs, the nonchalant expression when referencing your life fuels Jay’s rage and anguish, thinking of the possibility that you could be dying back there in Kevin’s arms is enough to drive his finger to the trigger, not even hesitating to fire as Parr raises his weapon. Watching emotionless as your abuser drops to the ground with a hole in his head.

Silence.

Not even stopping to speak to Kim or Voight, Jay’s feet carry him towards you, the sound of Voight on the radio fades away as Kim follows your brother, boots slamming on the stone floor as he calls out, “Ruze! Kevin?!”

“Jay, in here!” Adam hollers, moving out the way to let Jay rush to your side as he takes in your weak form on the floor. Watching with worry for the both of you.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Y/N. It’s me, it’s Jay, I’m here, sweetheart.” Kevin exchanges a glance with Jay, eyes filled with tears,

“We need that ambo, man.”

“Adam, radio Will again, go and help him get here!” Jay barks out the instruction, turning back to you as he cradles your face, Kevin unrelenting in keeping his hands over the wound, slowing the bleeding.

You feel a warmth surrounding your head, it’s gentle and grounding, you’d have thought that you might be hallucinating your brother again if it weren’t for the ever-present agony in the rest of your body. Trying to get your eyes to focus, you settle on concerned ones, your lip trembling as relief washes over you in the form of sobs between your struggling breaths.

“Jay… Jay, you’re here…I’m sorry…n-mad…a’ you” Your speech slurs, almost letting yourself drift now that you knew you were in good hands.

“I’m here, kiddo. I’m right here, I’m so sorry, for everything. You never have to be sorry, you hear me? I need you, Y/N. I need you to stay with me, stay awake, Will’s coming okay? He’s coming, we love you so much, Y/N. We’ll always need each other.”

Your eyes are fluttering, using every bit of energy you could muster to stay with Jay’s pleading face. It’s a surreal sensation, to feel the blood leaving your body, in all your curiosity as a kid about Jay and Will’s jobs, you never thought to ask what a gunshot would feel like. Now you knew, it was like having that hydrogen peroxide poured into a hole in your shoulder, neverending burning radiating through your chest.

Jay smooths your hair away from your face, stroking through it as he feels useless, desperate for Will to appear.

In your waning consciousness, you hear the scuffle of Will and the paramedics getting into the room. If Jay’s presence wasn’t enough, knowing Will was here was the signal your body took to let go, he would take care of you now. You let yourself fall asleep, no longer aware of Will’s calls of your name, the commotion of him and the paramedics fighting for your life as you drift…

End of Part 3.

One more to come, I think!

tags: elius-learns-to-write - iamasimpingh0e - resanoona - waywardfamily - trulylavandedarling - darlingyoureperfection - tri1924-blog - onekodareption04 - illyrianprincess

#halstead!sister #jay halstead x reader #will halstead x reader #one chicago #chicago pd #we'll always need each other

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fiveraccoonsinatrenchcoat · 2 years

Text

Romeo And Juliet (Or Some Other Romantic Shit Like That) Ch. 6

Eddie Munson x f!reader

Series Description: The Saturday night slot at The Hideout is open, and Corroded Coffin thought they were a shoo-in. When it goes to a different band, however, Eddie becomes more than a little distracted by their pretty bassist.

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Chapter Description: You and Eddie are head over heels for one another. Tonya doesn't appreciate it all that much.

Warnings: angst, language, alcohol mention, smoking

Word Count: 3388

Notes: Sorry about the delay on this, I had a very unexpected family emergency and some killer writer's block to boot, but I'm back! This chapter is a bit of a doozie but I'm very excited for you guys to read it! (also if you want to look up the shirt the reader wears in this chapter it's a real vivienne westwood design but be warned it's very nsfw)

It had been the end of August when Eddie saw you on stage for the first time, and he’d followed your performances like a lost puppy throughout all of September. He kissed you like you were the only person in the world just before the start of October, and the pair of you made up for lost time until Halloween had come and passed. Now, as the cold, late November air whipped around the pair of you, it seemed as though it was all about to come crashing down.

You and Eddie decided it would be best if your relationship was kept a secret for the time being. His bandmates were not the biggest Seductress fans in the world (to say the very least), and you were sure that Tonya would blow a gasket if she found out that you were fraternizing with the enemy. Neither of you minded, though. If anything, you both kind of thought it added to the fun. Sneaking him out of your apartment in the wee hours of the morning and sharing secret cigarettes in the back of his van made you feel a little bit like you were in a John Hughs movie, and slinking away from your respective bandmates to see one another in the alleyway behind The Hideout became a bit of a post show tradition for the two of you. Yeah, it was freezing, and it always smelled a little bit like a sewage pipe, but neither of you ever cared; it was hidden away from prying eyes, and shoving Eddie against the brick wall of the building was a great way to dispel some of that leftover on-stage adrenaline.

You’d successfully snuck away from the girls and found Eddie in his usual spot, leaning a few yards away from the door with a cigarette glowing between his fingertips. His eyes lit up the moment they met yours, and you threw yourself into his open arms.

“You did great!” he said, before planting a kiss to the top of your head.

“You think so?” you asked with a smile. “I had a string snap, so I changed ‘em, like, a week ago, but I swear I kept hearing them go out of tune.”

“All in your head,” Eddie reassured you. He took a quick drag from the cigarette, which you promptly swiped from him to do the same before stubbing it out and dropping the butt to the ground. “You were perfect.”

Your lips met in an eager, teeth clashing, adrenaline fueled kiss. Your hands tangled themselves into Eddie’s hair while his sat one just underneath the hem of your shirt, the other placed on the side of your neck.

“I really think you should wear this outfit more often,” Eddie said against your lips. You’d cut several small holes in your t-shirt, a knockoff of Vivienne Westwood's 'Cowboy' shirts, and trimmed the neckline so it hit low on your chest. You paired it with the skirt from an old Catholic school uniform you’d gotten at Goodwill and messily chopped pretty much in half. Eddie had voiced his love for it several times, though he always insisted that it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it left quite a bit of skin on display.

“Can’t imagine why you’d like it so much,” you quipped back. You felt Eddie smile into the kiss.

You were both far too distracted by each other to hear the door swing open a few feet away. You were entirely invested in the sound of Eddie’s gasps against you, and completely missed your name being called. It wasn’t until Eddie turned the two of you that your eyes caught the shape of someone emerging from the building. The streetlamps behind them made it practically impossible to tell who it was, but you shoved yourself away from Eddie as soon as you heard the telltale “What the fuck?!”

It was Tonya who had walked out into your secluded little alleyway. Tonya was the one who just caught you and Eddie practically eating eachother. Over-protective, easily-jealous Tonya was the one who found out about you and Eddie first.

“What the fuck is this?!” she shouted once she had fully emerged from the building.

“Tonya, it’s not what you think, I-”

“What could you possibly mean by ‘not what I think?’ How could this be anything other than what it looks like?” Tonya had a fire in her eyes like you’d never seen.

“Okay, so what if it is?” you barked back, pulling yourself from Eddie’s arms. “What would be so wrong with that?”

“With you fucking him on the side like we’d never find out?!” Tonya shot back. “No, no, that’s totally fine! Nothing snake like about that at all!”

“Woah, what do you mean by ‘on the side,’ Tonya?” you asked as you took another step away from Eddie towards her.

“You know exactly what I mean!”

“No! I don’t!” you yelled. Eddie had never seen you this worked up. “God, why are you so heartset on ripping apart every single relationship I get into? Are you just that fucking jealous?”

“I am not jealous!” Tonya roared in response. Eddie had no idea what to do beyond just watching the two of you yell back and forth. “I’m worried about you!”

“Jesus, are you fucking kidding me?” You looked about ready to rip Tonya’s head off as you said it, arms gesturing wildly around you. “Worried about what, huh? That I’d get my heart broken? That I’d get cheated on? Because you’re a little late to the party on that one, Tonya!”

Jessa and Harriette, whose ears were highly attuned to picking up Tonya’s yelling, came barreling through the open doorway, concern etched on their faces; clearly the addition of your voice was something they weren’t used to.

“That’s real fucking mature of you!” Tonya spat. “Look, if you wanna go join him and his idiot metalhead friends, that’s fine by me, but you need to pick.”

“Pick?” you snapped, your brows knitted together.

“You don’t get to be in both bands, babe. This shit is exclusive.” Jessa and Harriette shared a look behind Tonya, and when Jessa caught sight of Eddie behind you, it all seemed to click into place. She walked up to Tonya and placed a hand on her arm to try and pull her away, but Tonya just shook her off and shot a cutting glare over her shoulder. Jessa backed off, not wanting to make the situation any more volatile, and Tonya turned her attention to you once more. “You can pick them, or you can pick us, but you can’t pick both!”

“Seriously?” you let out with a laugh of disbelief, and Eddie felt very out of the loop. This was clearly about more than just him. “If anyone here has a problem with exclusivity-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

“-it’s not me!”

“I never cheated on you!” Tonya roared, as if it was the obvious answer to a dumb question. “We never agreed to be exclusive! That’s not what that was, and you know it!”

You let out an appalled scoff, crossing your arms in front of you, and Eddie’s eyes went wide. He was getting ready to stop the two women in front of him from killing each other, but fuck, that was one hell of a bombshell that just dropped.

He, Harriette and Jessa were still just standing on the sidelines. Eddie had absolutely no idea how to handle the situation at hand; the most upset he’d ever seen you was mildly annoyed with him and his antics. This was an entirely new ball game for him, and he understood very quickly why you’d been so insistent on keeping your relationship in the dark.

There were angry tears beginning to pool around your eyes, but you were determined to keep them from dropping. You were not going to cry, not in front of her. Not now.

“Y’know what? Fuck this!” Tonya turned her back to you and marched into the building. Jessa and Harriette immediately turned to follow her, as did you. Your bandmates were calling her name, trying to get her to ‘just slow down a minute, will you?’ as she rummaged through her backpack to find her car keys before slinging the bag over her shoulder. “I’m taking the van, you guys can find your own rides home!”

Tonya powered her way through the group to get out of the cramped backstage hallway, slamming Eddie in the shoulder as she went, and the four of you stood silently in the tension she had left in her wake.

“You okay?” Jessa asked you as you leaned against the wall. The tears you were so determined to hide were now on full display, and you kept your gaze pointed away from your friend as you quickly ducked into the greenroom and shut the door before Eddie could follow you. He heard the lock click, and rested his forehead against the shut door.

“Fuck,” he sighed. The door to the alley had remained open, and freezing air was pouring into the already cold hallway. He lifted his head from the door and turned down the hall, hoping to catch Tonya before she was able to run away. As he walked, Jessa put a hand on his chest to try and stop him.

“Don’t try to talk to Tonya, it’s not worth it,” Jessa said to him. “She’s not thinking straight.”

Eddie ignored her advice and ran out into the parking lot anyway. It felt like the temperature had dropped by half since he had been outside waiting for you. He scanned the parking lot and found Tonya leaning against her own van with a cigarette in her teeth. Though he felt guilty about thinking it, the fact that Tonya had a nicer van than him kind of felt like salt in the wound. Now that she was alone, she seemed much less stone cold and looked like she regretted the things she had said, but as soon as she saw Eddie, the angry, tougher-than-thou facade came right back.

“Oh, if it isn’t Sid!” she quipped, malice dripping from her words. She flicked her cigarette and took another drag. “Hey, don’t you and Nancy back there have some conniving bullshit to pull together?”

“You made her cry, you know,” Eddie said, not giving in to Tonya’s biting insults.

“That’s her own fault, then. I didn’t say a single thing that wasn’t true.” Tonya tossed her cigarette onto the gravel that made up the parking lot and put it out under the toe of her boot. “Maybe she just needs to toughen up?”

“Seriously?” Eddie questioned, his own anger now threatening to come to a boiling point. “I thought you were-”

“You’re not anything special. You know that, right?” Tonya interrupted him. “She powers her way through pretty-boys like you. She talks about me being some sort of slut, or something, but I can’t count the number of girlfriends and boytoys she’d had in the last two years alone.”

Eddie stood in silence as Tonya walked to the driver’s side of the van and got in. She started the engine and backed out, pulling up next to Eddie before leaving. She rolled down the window to leave one last burning remark in her wake.

“When you go back in there, go ahead and let Jessa and Harriette know I want her out of the band!” Tonya sped off at that, and Eddie was left with what felt like a black hole in his chest. He tilted his head up toward the sky; it was unseasonably clear, and every star was bright and visible despite the lamps lighting up the lot.

“Fuck!” Eddie exclaimed, kicking the tire of the car next to him. Everything had been great, so great, and he just had to go and fuck this up! You just got kicked out of your band, the band that you and Jessa had founded as kids, and it was all his fault.

With the exception of a handful of dedicated regulars, most of the patrons of The Hideout had gone home for the night. Rhonda had already given the last call, and the front doors would be locked in half an hour. Eddie walked back inside and Rhonda immediately began to question him.

“What the hell was that about? I heard yelling and saw knockoff Debbie Harry practically sprint outta here.” Eddie felt like he was about to burst into tears himself, and when Rhonda finally got a good look at his face, she quickly came out from behind the bar. “Eddie, what happened back there?”

“I think I might have just ruined everything,” Eddie said to her, barely above a whisper. Rhonda was quick to pull the poor boy into a hug, which he gratefully accepted. Eddie had a good five or six inches on the woman, but in this moment, he felt incredibly small.

“You think you can fix it?” Rhonda asked as she patted Eddie’s shoulder.

“I don’t know.”

“Well,” Rhonda said. She pulled out of the hug and looked up at Eddie’s sullen face. “I think you should at least go try.”

Eddie nodded and thanked her; he didn’t know where he would be without Rhonda there to help him. He paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and made his way back to the greenroom you’d locked yourself up in. Jessa was leaning against the wall and Harriette was talking to someone in a hushed tone on the payphone a few yards away. He was about to try the door again, but-

“It’s still locked,” Jessa warned him. “Give her a minute or two. She probably just wants to get it together a little bit before trying to talk to anyone.”

Eddie just nodded. Clearly, Jessa had handled this type of thing with you before. He backed away from the door and joined Jessa against the wall. It was an awful, sickly olive green color, and he was sure the paint was just chock-full of lead and slowly poisoning them all.

“What happened?” Eddie finally asked the girl next to him. “Between her and Tonya, I mean.”

“They dated a while back,” Jessa said, in a calm and collected tone. “Well, I mean, they were a thing. I wouldn’t actually call it ‘dating,’ really.”

“What would you call it, then?” Eddie inquired. Jessa sighed before responding.

“I don’t know. Tonya didn’t want it to be a serious thing, I think. She never thought they were, like, an exclusive ‘item’ or whatever,” Jessa had a tinge of frustration in her voice now. “Of course, she never made that known, so when she got caught with someone else. . .”

“So, she did cheat on her?” Eddie was able to fill in the blanks, and anger rose in his chest once more. Jessa nodded.

“She always tries to deflect the blame away. I mean, the band almost split up after it happened. Harriette and I were so beyond pissed at her.” Jessa had dropped her collected facade now, and was clearly just as mad about it as Eddie was. She gestured toward the greenroom door you were hiding behind. “Poor thing barely left her room for weeks.”

The black hole in Eddie’s chest grew even larger when he heard that, and he muttered another dejected ‘fuck’.

“What?” Jessa asked. She could tell that Eddie was keeping something from her, something big. Eddie locked his eyes on Jessa’s face, and wanted nothing more than to melt into the wall. He wanted to wake up from this horrible nightmare he’d gotten you into. He didn’t want to say it out loud, he couldn’t, because that would make it real, but Jessa persisted. “Did Tonya say something to you outside?”

“She said she wants her out of the band.”

“What?!” Jessa responded, with a rage that could rival what he’d seen out of Tonya just a few minutes before. “Are you fucking kidding me? She said that?”

Eddie just nodded in response and shifted his eyes to the door in front of him. It’s all he could do.

“I’m gonna kill her.” Jessa pushed herself away from the wall and began pacing up and down the short hallway. Any semblance of ‘chill’ that she may have had at any point was gone. “I’m gonna fucking kill her!”

Harriette, who had just hung up the phone, quickly came to Jessa’s side to try and do what little damage control could be done.

“Hey, whoa, calm down,” she said, steadying Jessa. “Nobody is killing anyone, okay?”

“Did you hear what he said?!”

“Yeah, I did, and we can deal with it in the morning,” Harriette uttered. She seemed to be the last rational one left. “Marcus said he’d come pick us up. He’ll be here in five minutes, ten tops. And you know just as well as I do that trying to talk to Tonya right now is gonna do more harm than good.”

Jessa, though she was still visibly furious, gave Harriette a nod and stopped pacing. There was one final moment of silence, one last chance to think through what to do next, before the trio in the hall heard the lock click and watched as you slowly opened the door, having heard every word.

You were trying so, so hard to keep it together. Your eyes were puffy and red. You had wiped off all of your stage makeup in an attempt to hide your tears, though it still left gray shadows beneath your eyes. Your lipstick had stained your mouth, so your lips looked almost bloody. Eddie thought you looked like some sort of phantom, cursed for eternity to haunt the back rooms of The Hideout in misery. You looked at Eddie, and he felt his heart shatter at your broken expression.

“She told you she wanted me kicked out?” you whimpered, voice hoarse from crying. Harriette turned her attention away from the livid Jessa and back to you.

“Hey, we’ll figure it out, okay? I promise, we’d never kick you out. Never,” your drummer reassured you. Eddie admired how good Harriette was at staying calm during all this; he definitely wasn’t able to do that. “Marcus’ll be here soon to get us. We’ll get you home, and-”

“No,” you interrupted her. You shook your head and gave her a gaze that made you look like a lost puppy in the rain. “I-I don’t want to be at home right now. Bad idea.”

“Are you sure? I promise, it’ll be okay, we can-”

“I said no,” you insisted with glassy eyes. Your stubborn nature was a force to be reckoned with sometimes.

“It’s okay,” Eddie said. “I can get her back.”

“You sure?” Harriette eyed him suspiciously.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Eddie stood his ground, trying somehow to prove to Harriette that he didn’t have any ulterior motive. “I’ll make sure she gets home safe. I promise.”

Harriette gave him a tentative nod, and another person, who Eddie soon learned was the ‘Marcus’ Jessa and Harriette were waiting on, came around the corner. Harriette ran up to him and threw her arms around his neck. Eddie could hear them whispering to one another, but the only thing he was able to make out was ‘I’ll tell you in the car.’

The two girls quickly and quietly gathered their bags and instruments and, checking with you once more that it was okay to leave you alone with Eddie, went to leave. Harriette gave one last nod to him before turning the corner.

Eddie walked into the greenroom and carefully pushed the door shut behind him. You had sat yourself on the couch with your knees pulled close to your chest, curling up into the smallest ball you possibly could. You were still wearing your stage outfit, and the skimpy clothes left you freezing; Eddie could see you shivering and silently cursed himself for praising that thin top and tiny skirt. He planted himself next to you and pulled you into him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

He held you to his chest as if someone was about to barge in and take you away from him, and all you could do was cry.

Tiny Little Taglist: @wickedslashdivine @youareadistraction @bubbles-is-my-thing @music-is-my-only-reality @heavenkiss @aedicn @grungegrrrl

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nothingofvaluewaslost · 1 month

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Immured

For AMOW's March 2024 Trope-a-Thon

@amonthofwhump

Immured

Challen does not put up resistance when the castle guards come to bring him to his new fate. He is almost grateful for their heavy bodies, like a battlement around him. They mean that he can no longer change his mind and recant. He looks down at the flagstones as they pass: hewn into half-moons and many-sided shapes and diagonal straps, a more complex pattern than he knew. All he can do is focus on staying upright and breathe, breathe and force air deep into his lungs and keep his gorge down.

They bring him to the courtyard. A slip of March wind trails down between the vertiginous walls, and its scent of forest and distant expanses hits him like a blow. He is aware of the direction to the scaffold; as Prince, he can only be executed with a sword across his neck, a death as quick as a breath. He does not know whether one will feel the blade’s cold, or sharpness, or how long one’s head can retain awareness and feel that it is separated from its body.

His guardians do not turn that way. He makes sure to stay his gaze ahead, to not remind them of the chopping-block by even a moment’s deviation.

A rough voice from the crowd:

“Coward!”

Of course that is what they will call him, since he refused to accept his lot and go to the Dragon’s Gate. Challen raises his head and holds it straight. It is not hard: since Father pronounced his sentence in the Red Hall, he has felt light, as if he need only turn in the right angle to feel his feet lose touch with the ground and drift off. The wind is cold where it plays through his raven tresses. All that remains for him is not to show fear.

The distance to the chopping-block continues to grow. They lead him towards one of the tall turrets that he has never seen in use. He should have realised; it is not an easy death he deserves, he who refused to act on his lot. Another youth or maid will wander the long path to the Dragon, and he himself will have a death that will frighten each and all from fighting their fate. Still the guards close tight around him, sparing him from collapsing or twitching in desperation.

The darkness of the gate swallows them. The touch and sound of the wind die.

Up the stairwell they move, and something confuses his senses until he no longer knows whether he is rising or diving. The chill of the stairway has grown dense from enclosure, into something that feels different from air. It presses against his skin. Regular narrow slits in the wall give them light to see the steps, but he feels no freshness passing under them.

The guards ahead block his gaze and he stumbles on a step, not having realised it was the last. He is in the turret room: just an unfurnished roundel of masonry, tall enough to stand in the middle. There are slits in the walls at each point of the compass, admitting pale light.

Craftsmen have brought up bricks, mortar and buckets of water, behind him, where he couldn’t see. A couple of them get to work, one lighting a taper as the natural light dwindles. The slits are so narrow, one only needs to stack up bricks singly to cover them. For a moment he just watches, taking satisfaction in the skilled, repetitive moment. He must have already realised, he is not going to die here. Even before the work starts, there is no opening wide enough to send him hurtling. The roof is well-built and closed over him.

“Well, Prince Challen,” the Captain says to him. “I believe you know what comes next.”

There seems to be a slight delay in his words. There might be more than a delay; he may not be perceiving the words right, he may be hearing something else entirely. Challen nods, eyes glassy, focusing on keeping the contents of his stomach down. As long as he says nothing, he will not scream.

They crowd out into the landing. At this point, there is a throbbing in the side of his head, and he wonders whether it is the beginnings of something that will kill him, hours or days from now. If he were to request of the guards to kill him, while there is still a chance? The thought rises above the surface and falls again, traceless.

The mason places a layer of bricks along the narrow doorway, lays mortar, smooths it with small chinking melodic sounds. Challen watches it and prays for it to be faster. The smell of mortar fills his nostrils, wholesome, almost like fresh bread. He watches the second layer, and the third. They leave a gap, not large enough for a man’s shoulders. He is to be fed. Air will enter there, the same enclosed air.

When it is done, he sits on the hard flagstones. It is not quite dark, a little daylight enters his one palm-sized square of day. He can still hear a second layer being added on the outside. He cannot stop himself from picturing the movements of the mason, his muscles switching and playing in his arms, whatever expression is on his face – any of a thousand –, how he will go home to his cottage in the fading red-purple of the sunset.

The sounds have faded. Silence presses in on his eardrums like deafness. He falls asleep with exhaustion, his first night.

When Challen listens by the gap in the doorway-shape, he hears footsteps dragging up the stairs. A muffled figure leaves a jug of water and half a loaf of bread. Each time he tries to plead or threaten or reason, but perhaps they have sent a deaf-mute, because he never sees a reaction. Each time he tries to resist eating or drinking, but hope and his own weakness force him. Even if he pours out the water, to win over his body that way, there is nowhere for him to get rid of the crumbs of bread when hunger sits in his stomach like a stab wound.

Then time stops being a trajectory, the way it was in his life, and becomes something shapeless that fills the tower room. Perhaps he was always dying. Perhaps, if he were saved now and restored to sunlight, the tower would leave a stain on his mind that would keep it pinned here.

He dreams of fields and sunlight, warm as fresh milk on his hands. Then, those dreams wink out, and he dreams of a round cave of blackness.

THE END

#amow tropeathon2024 #fiction #day1 #fantasy #horror #tower #locked in a tower #male protagonist

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notmuchtoconceal · 4 months

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bro, i really wanna talk about ian and mickey from shameless cause it's one of the only long-term onscreen romances which has ever felt viscerally real to me, tho also -- i have mixed feelings about shameless generally, for it's an americanization of a foreign property which hooked me for its direct proximity to and immersion in my local culture, though also -- that direct proximity highlights certain unrealities of the broadcast medium more generally, namely that like -- bro, these neighborhoods. these areas. they're not this fuckin white.

the southside of chicago has not been this white since my parents were kids. bro, i had to listen to my mother bitch on long car rides about how polish and irish the neighborhood used to be when she was a kid, before you know ... the mexicans moved in. meanwhile, my father is half-mexican. it's just his mother was as covert narc assimilationist bruja who ate his soul so he had to soak up all the racial inferiority installs in lieu of developing a personality. yeah, man. be a trumper. build the wall. that your own people work harder and cheaper than you is the problem, not the extant system of financial exploitation pressured you to be a work-drone over withstanding the battery of persuing an education.

bro, when you fucking live in these places and see how people are, and you're sitting there watching this enticing fantasy, it's like -- you're thinking about these white actors from some other place coming in, with a production crew, and you wonder if the crew is local, how much is out of sight, how is this exchange of labor taking place, blah blah.

like, there's one black character on the show. there's one black character, and sometimes you'll see black extras in the background, but they're not extras. they're the people who live in these neighborhoods, sitting on their porches, watching the show being filmed -- being included in the shot and not making too much of a fuss.

she's real good, don't get me wrong.

their next-door neighbor, she's great. i haven't watched the show in years, and I don't remember their names. i love her boyfriend, too. her boyfriend, he's perfect. i don't know where he's from, but he captures the same vibe as my childhood best friend and their dynamic is great. total southside vibes. it's real, like ian and mickey's relationship is real and it buoys you through what appears as a demographic anachronism.

so, yeah, the show is extra weird cause it hits so close.

like, it's deffo true that racial injustice is being more frequently insincerely weaponized to score purity points in a pick-me economy of abandoned children playing penance for the cameras to use your ego to distract you from the multiple concurrent genocides taking place rn, but like...

sometimes you're just trying to watch entertainment and how weird and fake it is is distracting in a way no good-faith suspension of disbelief can overcome cause it's baked into the economic realities of the production itself. you can see how it's trying to do good despite its limitations, but it can feel like an excuse in-defense of their complicity with the systems they're in and it would be complicity itself not to say so aloud.

like, when you live with people and see how the collective fantasy of white supremacy chops and dices their minds on the block, jiggling them into bits in a salad to be rearranged, oh my God bro.

i'm fuckin remembering when i was a teen and how all the cute lil brown boys and girls would attach themselves to me cause my gigantic towering pale tree body functioned like an apotropaic charm against the police, which they regarded not as protectors of their property rights, but state-controlled gangs who sometimes countered, sometimes collaborated with -- the local criminal gangs. it was as though i was a fanciful wizened oak or a maypole and the police were not guardians, but hostile elemental forces which at times were the lesser of two evils.

i don't think a white person can talk about white supremacy without it somehow being either a humblebrag or insincere fawning.

i think to frame this discussion as being about "white supremacy" is tricking you into thinking about the thing you wanna get away from.

don't know what this might reveal about differences in worldview.

remember other people are real humans with real feelings.

thank you.

#STILL THANKFUL ON THANKFULNESS DAY!#THANK YOU FOR BEING THANKFUL!

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theagents23 · 9 days

Text

The Agents 2

Scarface: The Rise Of Fat Black

1986

Cesar: Nah son, I'm tellin you. That's one of Big's dudes.

Baptiste: I don't give a fuck, I'm tryna get this money. Now there's four of us and one of him, he's old and I heard he don't fight no more cause he fucked his knee up back in the day. We take out his legs and we got all the time in the world to run through that nigga's crib.

Cesar: Yo you're not listening, and you only got three people, I'm out.

Baptiste: That's cause you been fuckin round with Mia, that pussy got you actin pussy.

Cesar: No you dumbass mothafucker. That WHOLE crew, has every member callin themselves "Big" so nobody aside from them actually know who the real big is. That old dude could be the real one. You tryna be a stickup kid, you gon get shot before you even make a name for yourself.

Baptiste: If mothafuckers don't say shit, don't nobody know shit.

Cesar: I don't know shit. I know I'm leavin, you a fool and you two some hos.

*incoherent shit talkin sounds from the back.*

Baptiste: Pay no mind to the bitch in the front seat, she was just leavin.

*Cesar opens the door, gets out, and begins walking away.*

Baptiste: AYO! TELL MIA I SAID WUSSUP. I KNOW SHE MISS HOW I USED TO HIT!

*Cesar turns but continues walking backwards slowly.*

Cesar: YOU AINT HITTIN IT NOW NIGGA, THAT'S WUSSUP.

*As the young man walks out of sight the leader of the crew in the car drives a few blocks down and parks at the vantage point to watch the entrance of the old sensei's home. When night falls the trio stalk their way toward the back of the house, guns cocked and ready, their footsteps masked by the breeze and chirping crickets. Intent on not leaving empty handed, gunshots pierce the silence of the neighborhood after coming face to face with a pair of teenage boys and their girlfriends who all draw weapons. The scene quickly turns to a bloodbath as the man known as Fat Black splatters the upper portions of Baptiste's accomplices on the wall, floor, and ceiling with a sawed off shotgun from close range. Taking a portion of one of the blasts, the would be victimizer stumbles backwards against the wall in the kitchen bleeding a trail from where he touches to where he falls. Fat Black walks over, kicks the gun Baptiste had dropped out of his reach, and picks up a hammer and a small flat-head screwdriver out of a toolbox next to the sink.*

Baptiste: Yo I'm sorry man, come on

Fat Black: OH, YOU'RE SORRY? I DIDN'T KNOW YOU WERE SORRY. I'M SORRY TOO. YOU'RE SORRY, I'M SORRY, WE'RE ALL SORRY. EVERYBODY'S SORRY.

*Fat black sits on the floor against the wall next to where Baptiste was bleeding out slowly.*

Fat Black: My boy don't get to be sorry. My nephew over there didn't even know he could be sorry. They were kids and you were more concerned with money.

*Baptiste begins sobbing uncontrolably*

Baptiste: Please man, I don't wanna die.

Fat Black: And I didn't wanna kill you. Before you and your stupid ass friends busted in here and fucked ALL MY shit up, I didn't even know you. But you can't live now...I mean...you've killed people in my family. Who the fuck told you that's how shit works?

Baptiste: Yo, nobody has to know shit. I'll just go. I won't say nothin.

*Baptiste struggles to get to his feet prompting Fat Black to stand up and shove him back to the ground with his boot.*

Fat Black: You're not going anywhere.

*After tying him to one of the kitchen chairs and securing his extremities down to the digit out in front of him, Slim Wallace went to work. High pitched screams almost as loud as the preceding gunshots reverberated off the walls of the two family home as the small screwdriver was driven deeper and deeper under Baptiste's fingernails with each tap of the hammer. He stabbed him in the eye with a steak knife, drove several screws into each of his knees, scalped him with a pie cutter he heated up on the stove, chopped off the upper portion of his ear with a pair of rusty shears, and upon finishing with every finger except the pinky on each hand, he undid some of the restraints while consoling his torture victim.*

Fat Black: It's ok, it's ok, you're ok now. You're gonna be ok.

*Slim pulls a meat cleaver from a drawer and chops both of Baptiste's hands completely off before pouring whiskey on the stubs. Amidst the blood curdling screams emitted from the young man's mouth Fat Black manages a small snicker and a few words under an exhaughsted sigh.*

Fat Black: I really didn't want to have to do this anymore.

*A final blast from his sawed off puts an end to the commotion and the night air of the neighborhood refusing to call the police out of fear, was once again only filled with the sound of crickets.

Missouri was exactly as it sounds in the coming years for Slim, his brother and sister unable to cope with their loss and Slim's part in it, they shunned him and in doing so made his involvement obvious to the rest of their family from the group home they were raised in.

For three years Slim continued making his money by working under the shadow kingpin known as "Big" until the day came when his ambition exceeded his capabilities as a subordinate. After assembling a crew of naive young men and women loyal to him, Fat Black set out to rob and replace the man at the top. As had happened before, the head of the narcotics organization's home was raided and siezed by Slim and his soldiers. Leaving a bloody and grim scene in their wake they made way for their leader before entering the room "Big" was believed to be in. Upon entering, Slim realized the room was empty except for furniture, a desk with a small amount of coke and some lines laid out, and a television sat on a black metal roll-around stand with a camcorder poited at him next to it.*

Fat Black: Leave the room.

Joe: You sure? This could be a trap, it looks like one.

Fat Black: I'm sure.

*When he turns on the television, the grey haired weathered face of the man he'd only met once before was staring back at him while smoking a cigar. When he spoke, his stern and disappointed expression did not lose it's lustre.*

Tony: I expected better from you.

Fat Black: If you were expecting anything your men wouldn't be dead.

Tony: They're not my men, they were yours. This isn't a fuckin cartel, it's a business. You think I got money? Go check the safe, it's behind you behind that stack of books.

*Slim walks over to the book case and moves the only books on it stacked horizontally to reveal a combination safe.*

Tony: Combo's 18-72-17

*He turns the dial to the three numbers, turns the handle, and opens it to find one thousand dollars and an 8 ball of cocaine.*

Fat Black: How have we been moving all this product if you got nothing to show for it?

Tony: I learned a long time ago, the only use being on top has is to make sure no one else can be. Our stuff comes from a place that splits the profits between all the people who make it so nobody gets rich but they can live. I don't cut our shit so it stays pure, and the money I do make goes toward helping people. I donate and privately fund projects in the community. Water fountains, playgrounds, YMCA; shit like that. Everything else is just favors.

Fat Black: You're lying, nobody does this for free. How do afford your life and all this shit?

Tony: I told you, favors. I don't own nothing, and I have a job.

Fat Black: If that's true, you're a fool. But either way I'll be seeing you soon enough to make sure.

Tony: Mira, you think you're the first to try this shit? Every fuckin body wants to play God, nobody knows what it means. I'm not your boss hermano, I'm your landlord. You wanna leave? GO! Don't be surprised when you become the man you hate...if you don't catch a bullet first.

*Tony turns off his camera and the screen goes black. Knowing him by reputation to be a man who stood by his word, Slim realized he was telling the truth. As he stood there alone by the bookshelf, he could only find a single word that burned as much on the way out as it did into his memory.*

Fat Black: Damn.

*Tony put out his cigar and picked up his glass of ice and lemonade.*

Tony: Fuckin pendejo,you try to do for them and they keep fuckin everything up.

Frank: Is this one going to be a problem?

Tony: Who the fuck knows!?

Frank: The last time this happened I had to put your associates down for good.

Tony: Sosa was a fuckin rat. This one had promise. Things are different now.

Frank: Well, I'll do what I can to avoid things going that way, but if it comes to it...just work on finding new people.

*Frank opens the door leading to the side of the bar but stops at the sound of Tony's voice.*

Tony: Castle, why didn't you finish the job that day?

Frank: You died, they didn't pay me twice.

#Mine #The Agents 2 #Fat Black #Tony Montana #Frank Castle #The Punisher

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joontopia · 3 years

Text

Teach Me | KNJ Oneshot

pairing: wolf hybrid!namjoon x human!female reader

genre: smut, slight angst, dashes of fluff, basically porn with a dollop of plot

au: hybrid au, roommates to lovers

rating: explicit, nsfw, 18+

word count: 6.6k

warnings: slight angst, some pining, first time sex, public sex, unprotected sex, biting, scratching, hickies, breast play, knotting, cum holding, cockwarming, slight breeding kink, size kink (joon got a big cock), fingering, oral (f. recieving), multiple orgasms

House Jincubus presents: Room of Restraints

AU Type: Hybrid AU

Theme: First Time Sex, Public Sex

Kinks: Biting, Scratching, Hickies, Breast Play, Knotting, Cum Holding, Cockwarming, Breeding Kink, Size Kink

a/n: Finished this just in time... Didn’t mean to go so long without posting anything but please accept this as an apology. Thank you, thank you, thank you to my soultwin @escapingreality4now for running to my aid when I hit multiple writing blocks with this piece. your support and wisdom saved me. you always know what I need to help me through before I even think of it and i love you. Also, big big thank you to @kimtaehyunq for looking over this last minute to help me make sure everything flows. you are awesome and i love you!

“What have I gotten myself into,” you think to yourself as you walk through your front door from packing up your car.

The loud sound of something large hitting a wall somewhere in your apartment greets you upon entry. You peer down the hallway towards the bedrooms, eyeing your roommate’s, Namjoon, closed door as you make your way to the kitchen. The moment your feet touch the tile of the kitchen, you stop in your tracks. Eyes growing wide at the mess of your countertops. Various amounts of Tupperware half filled with chopped up meat, fruits, and cheeses are scattered around the room, proving to be the aftermath of somebody’s abandoned attempt at meal prepping. Another loud bang comes from behind Namjoon’s door, startling you as you let out a sigh. You walk up the counter and start to organize the food into the containers in equal portions as your mind begins to wander.

It’s only been nine months since you and Namjoon moved in together. Being best friends throughout college, the both of you decided to stay in the city after graduation. Agreeing to move in together to help split the expensive cost of rent that came with living in the heart of the city. You thought the only thing you’d have to worry about is the secret crush you still harbored for him and if it would affect you being able to live together. How naive of you to think that would be the biggest issue.

Namjoon is a wolf hybrid. You’ve never lived with a hybrid before. It’s not that you regret the decision, you just wish you would have thought to research what it would be like to better prepare yourself. Especially for one who is about to go through their heat.

In the beginning, living with Namjoon was going great. The close quarters and seeing each other every day brought you two closer and it didn’t take long for you to feel as if your crush wasn’t so unrequited. Only a few weeks ago Namjoon was placing soft good morning kisses to the top of your head or resting his hand briefly on your waist as he brushed past you. But just as soon as it started, it all had stopped. You continue with your task of sorting the food as you think back to the day he told you what was going on.

2 weeks ago

“Joonie, what’s all this meat for?” You ask, a slight giggle to you tone as you walk back up to the shopping cart. Namjoon stands there with two stacks of meat in his hands, the muscles in his arms flexing as he places the items into the cart. His pointed ears perk up at the sound of you walking up to him. His tail wagging sheepishly as he blushes, dimple ghosting his cheek as he gives you a shy smile. You can’t help but inwardly swoon at how attractive he looks. The bangs of his dark brown hair falling into his face as he stands up straight.

“Well, uh… My heat is coming up. Need to make sure I have enough food to make it through,” he says, eyes on you as he watches you process the news.

“Ah.” You nod your head in response. Not sure why you are as it’s not like you fully understood. Being human, hybrid heats weren’t exactly your expertise. You take another step towards the cart, placing the bottle of laundry detergent you had gone to retrieve on top of the growing pile. You hear a small cough and look up at it’s owner. You notice Namjoon staring at the detergent bottle with furrowed brows.

“Did I get the wrong kind?” You ask, looking back down at the item. You could have sworn you grabbed the right brand. The smell of this detergent being one you would know instantly. The subtle woodsy fragrance being one you associate very much with Namjoon.

“No, it is the one I buy. It’s just, um…” Namjoon trails off, scratching the back of his head as you look back up at him. He averts his eyes, avoiding eye contact with you as he starts again. “I was actually going to grab a bottle of yours.”

He continues speaking before you can say anything, answering your unspoken question. “I was going to take it with me to the hybrid hotel. In case I started to miss you,” he mumbles shyly.

You feel your cheeks heat at the sentiment. A blooming warmth in your chest begins to grow only to be cut off by your mind fixating on the rest of his words. “Hybrid hotel?” you repeat, your brows furrowing in curiosity.

Namjoon shuffles slightly on his feet as his eyes finally meet yours. “It’s a place for hybrids to go during their heat. Where other hybrids can get together for, umm…” He pauses, clearing his throat as his face turns a darker shade of pink. “... for help.”

“Help?” you parrot back in confusion before your brows shoot up. Your mouth dropping open as you let out a soft ‘Oh’ in realization. “Oh! Right, okay. Uhh, yeah. I’ll just go swap them out then.” You rush out the last of your words, snatching the bottle from the cart and turning around. You practically run back to the laundry aisle, not giving Namjoon a chance to say anything more.

As you place the last bit of meat into the last container, you remember how hurt you felt. Still feel if you were being honest. You wonder if he ever thought about asking you for help. You’d consider it, even though you don’t know what all that would consist of being. You remember thinking it would be something more comfortable to go through in your own home. Maybe he chose the hotel because he didn’t want you around. This thought is what led you to make the choice that you did. Considering his reaction when you told him your plan, it only added to your realization of how sorely uneducated you are on hybrid heats.

1 week ago

“You don’t have to go to the hotel. You can stay here.” You didn’t mean to blurt it out, catching Namjoon off guard as soon as you got home after work. You just didn’t know how to bring it up and you’ve barely talked to him, let alone seen him, since the grocery trip a week ago. So when you walked into the apartment and saw him folding laundry on the couch, you acted without thinking.

You can tell you startled him at the slight jump of his shoulders. He turns to look at you. A look of surprise displays across his face as he replies, “You… you want me to stay?”

“Yeah. I figure it would be more comfortable than any hotel,” you explain, walking into the living room and sitting next to him on the couch. A mix of his woodsy detergent and another scent hitting you as you get closer.

He looks at you curiously, a twinkle of wariness in his eyes as he goes to fold the blanket in his hand. “Are you sure you’d be okay with me being here?”

You let out a small giggle as you give him a reassuring look. “Joon, this is your place, too. Why wouldn’t I be? I just figured I’d help anyway I can.”

His ears perk up as he takes in your words. Eyes wide in shock as he looks at you. Mouthing dropping open to speak, but you cut him off before he gets a chance. ”Which is why I’ll be staying elsewhere for the week,” you rush out. “I have a coworker who's dating a fox hybrid and she’s offered a place for me to stay.”

You watch as his pointed wolf ears fall just slightly as he looks away. His features darkening as he clenches his jaw, grabbing his folded laundry and placing them into the basket. “So, you won't be here,” he deduces from your words, placing the last piece of laundry into the basket.

“No,” you reply cautiously. “I figured you’d want your privacy? I didn’t want to get in your way in case…” In case you wanted to bring someone to help. You finish the sentence in your mind. The words cause an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

Namjoon nods at your words, still looking at the basket in front of him. “Right,” he clips, grabbing the basket as he stands from the couch. “Well, thanks,” he mutters, his tone laced with annoyance as he walks past you. You get another small whiff of the other other scent coming from the laundry as he passes, identifying as the mystery scent as the lavender detergent you use. You watch as he walks down the hallway, still not looking at you as he slams his door, disappearing into his bedroom.

Another loud thud startles you, pulling you from your memory. You look down at the completed meal preps and let out another sigh. You make sure the lids are secure on the containers and begin to stack them in the fridge. You place the last container of food in the fridge and wipe down the counter. You inspect your t-shirt and jeans, making sure no food stains have found their way onto your attire, prompting for a wardrobe change. Having no other distraction to delay your departure to your coworker’s house, you decided now is as good as any time to hit the road.

Walking out of the kitchen, you stop in the hallway, looking back down towards Namjoon’s room. You figure it would be rude of you not to tell him you were leaving. You walk towards his door, raising a fist to knock when you hesitate. Wondering to yourself if he even wants you to say bye to him. You debate if you should ask him to give you a call should his heat end early. Or if he would like for you to call and check on him. Or even drop in to make sure he eats. “Oh god what if he has someone over?”

Before your mind could dwell too much on that thought, the door in front of you swings open, bringing you face to face with the tall, brown-haired hybrid. His ears pointing up in shock to see you standing there.

“Why are you just standing here?” He asks you as he holds open his door.

“I, umm,” you stammer, the sudden appearance of him catching you off guard. “I’m about to head out. Just wanted to tell you bye before I…” You trail off, taking in his appearance. He had a plain shirt and gym shorts on. Sweat is building on his hairline as you notice his breathes seemed slightly uneven. Your eyes trail down his arms, ogling at how noticeable buff they look, wondering if his upcoming heat has anything to do with how they look larger than usual. You catch the sight of his house keys in his hand and nod to them. “Are you going somewhere?”

He looks down and clears his throat. Taking a step forward around you and closing his door. “Uh, yeah. I forgot to settle something at the bookstore. Didn’t set for Jimin to have access to process payroll. It needs to be sent out while I’ll be gone,” he says, walking down the hallway to the front door.

You follow him, grabbing your keys from the kitchen counter as you pass by. “Do you want me to drive you and drop you back off? I don’t mind.”

“No, I got it. I’ll take my bike.” He grabs his jacket and reaches for the front door. You try to shake off the feeling that he doesn’t want to be around you and go to offer again.

“But, Joon it’s…” You’re cut off by the loud curse Namjoon lets out as he opens the door, taking in the state of the weather outside.

“It’s raining,” he finishes your sentence. The sound of raindrops hitting the pavement hard filling the brief silence that follows. He turns to look at you as he lets out a small huff. “Yeah, a ride would be appreciated. Thank you.”

You give him a soft smile as he holds the door open for you, closing it behind him as he follows you to your car.

The drive to the bookstore was silent. The rain drowns out any music playing from the radio during your short drive to Namjoon’s work. You pull up to the curb, parking right in front of the storefront to give Namjoon the shortest trek in the rain possible. He unbuckles his seatbelt, grabbing the door handle before he stops and turns to you. “You can come in if you want. I don’t know how long this will take me and it will probably be more comfortable than waiting out here.”

You give him a smile, nodding at him as you pull the keys out of the ignition. You both speed out of the car and towards the shop, managing your best to stay as dry as possible in the short distance. Locking your car, you follow Namjoon into the bookstore. Once inside, a warm, angelic voice greets you.

“Welcome to Cypher Bookstore! Oh, Namjoon! Didn’t expect to see you for another week,” the cute blonde male behind the front desk addresses your roommate, smiling when he notices you standing behind him and reaches out his hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m Jimin. Namjoon’s favorite employee. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You’re my only employee,” Namjoon grumbles as he walks around the counter towards the back office, stopping briefly as he turns and motions towards you. “This is my roommate, Y/N. I’ll be here for just a little bit. Forgot to do something before I left yesterday.”

You shake Jimin’s hand, giving him a smile as you see his eyes light up. A sudden realization forming in his mind as he looks at you. “OH, YN! I’ve heard so much about you,” he sing-songs, letting out a little chuckle as he notices the faint trace of confusion on your face. “You’re one of Joon’s favorite topics,” he whispers as he raises his hand to block his mouth. It was only for show, seeing as his volume was still loud enough for Namjoon to hear from the office. The wolf hybrid pops his head out of the open office door, interrupting Jimin before he could say anything else.

“Hey, Jimin. Why don’t you go take a quick lunch while I’m here? I can watch the store. We shouldn’t get very much traffic with this kind of weather.” By the way Namjoon glares at Jimin, you both can tell it was more than just a suggestion. Jimin gives Namjoon a thumbs up as he smiles, winking at you as he walks around the counter and heading towards the door.

“It was nice to finally put a face to a name. See ya!” You wave him bye as Jimin bounces out the door and into the rain. You watch as he disappears out of sight when you hear Namjoon call for you, turning to look at him from across the desk.

“You can take a look around if you want. I’ll just be in here if someone comes in or if, you know, you need anything,” he says, giving you a half smile. You nod your head, huffing out a small “okay” as you turn around, venturing into the small two story shop.

You roam around, taking in the numerous shelves of books, all sorted by what seemed to be genre and author. In the middle of the room, you notice an iron spiral staircase leading up to another section of the store. A loft area that would overlook the entire bookstore if it weren’t for the long curtain that blocked it off.

You walk up the staircase, entering into the cozy little section as you make it to the top. You notice only three bookcases in the small area. The rest of the space fitted with a table in the middle and a medium sized couch against the wall behind it. You figure it’s an area created for study groups or research. Your assessment is confirmed when you browse the loft’s reading contents. Various informational books and research journals line the shelves once again sorted by genre. Your eyes stop on the label marking the start of the ‘Hybrids’ section. Eyeing the titles, you find one that catches your attention. You reach for it without a thought as you read the name of the book in your mind. A-Z on Hybrid Heats. Flipping it open, you turn and walk around the table, sitting down on the couch as you stop on the page titled Heats.

Heats are a biological mating cycle all hybrids go through. Heats can last 4-7 days and begin with fever and increased pheromone production (see Pre-Heat).

You continue down the page, skimming the sections leading into information on heat triggers and heat suppressants. You come up on the section of breeding, reading through prevention options when your eyes stop on a word that catches your eye. Knotting. You flip to the page it points you to. Your eyes grow wide when you’re met with an anatomical picture of what knotting is. You continue on, taking in the brief explanations the book offers on knotting, marking, and various other terms. You knew heats were a time where a hybrids sex drive was high, but you had no idea it consisted of all this. You didn’t realize sex for a hybrid would be that much diffierent.

As you look back up at the anatomy diagrams, your mind wanders to the wolf hybrid just a floor below you. Is this what happens with him? Does it hurt? Has he ever marked or claimed anyone before? Surely not, as it seems like a one and done type of ordeal. You would know if he had someone in his life like that, wouldn’t you?

“Would he ever consider me?” you think to yourself, eyes closing as you picture what it would be like between you and Namjoon. Would he be rough? Would he be gentle? You begin to fantasize what it would feel like. Him buried to the hilt inside you, his knot growing as he grabs your chin. Moving your head to the side, exposing the bare canvas of your neck as his other hand roams over your body. Mumbles of how you belong to him and only him falling from his lips as he plants kisses across your body. The mental imagery causes you to squirm in your seat. You rub your thighs together, trying to find some relief as you feel your growing arousal start to leak from your core.

“What are you doing?” Namjoon’s voice comes out of nowhere, snapping you out of your day dream as you shoot up from your seat, the book dropping from your lap and onto the floor.

“S-sorry, I was just reading while I waited,” you stammer under his gaze. Feeling like a little kid caught looking at something they shouldn’t. You take a look at Namjoon, noticing how he was now drenched in sweat. The knuckles of his hands turning white as he holds onto the railing by the staircase. “Are you okay?”

“My heat,” he growls. The tone of his voice is an octave lower than usual, the deep rumbles of his baritone causing another slick of arousal to leak from you. Namjoon’s eyes flicker down to your groin before looking back up at your face. His eyes watch you hungrily as he speaks through clenched teeth. “It’s starting early.”

“Oh, okay,” you nod, bending down to grab the book you dropped off the floor. Trying your best to hide the cover as you walk around the table. Hoping he won’t see the title when you pass him. “Let me put this up and we’ll hurry and get you home. Namjoon?!?”

You barely make it past him when he reaches for your arm, snatching the book from your hands and glancing at the front cover. “Why are you reading this? He asks, a single brow quirking up in half amusement.

You reach for the book, letting out a small gasp of surprise when Namjoon stops you, catching your wrist with his free hand. “Answer me.”

“I was just reading to pass the time.” You can tell by the way his ears twitch that he could sense the lie in your words. He tosses the book to the side. A soft thud echoes in the small loft as it hits the ground. He starts walking you backwards into the room, hand still wrapped around your wrist.

“I can smell you, you know,” he drawls. Your eyes grow wide as you blink back at him. Cheeks heating with embarrassment as you immediately know what he’s referencing. “Is that what was getting you all worked up? Reading about my heat?”

You feel the back of your legs hit something solid. Placing your hand on the surface behind you, you realize it’s the table. “Why read that book?” he asks again, his dark orbs piercing into yours as he waits for your answer.

“I just wanted to know if there was anything I could do to help.” Your voice is hardly above a whisper, but considering his close proximity, you know he’s able to hear you. He eyes you carefully, moving his free hand to brace itself beside yours on the table. You notice the strain in his arm muscles. As if he was trying to hold himself back from you, despite how little of a distance there already was.

“Help,” he mimics. You notice one of his pupils is already half blown, something you think is a cause of his brewing heat. He leans in closer to you, his nose barely touching yours. “Like more than just giving me my privacy at home?”

You push yourself slightly off the table, trying to stand up a little straighter as you look the wolf hybrid in the eye. You take in a deep breath, replying to him with as much certainty in your tone as possible. “Yes. More than just giving you privacy.”

You barely register his growl before you feel his lips on yours. His mouth devouring you hungrily as you return his kisses. A small moan slips past your lips as his free hand cups your face, tilting it to the side as he traces small nips across your jawline, ending just by your ear.

“You know, I can teach you so much more than that little book,” he purrs. The insinuation of his words traveling down your body and straight into your core. Your hips grinding up into his out of instinct as he pulls away from you just slightly.

“I need to know you want this,” he says to you. Breathing heavily as he searches your face, looking for any traces of doubt.

“I want this, Joonie,” you answer him, moving your free hand to cup his face. You watch as his eyes flutter shut at your touch, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Teach me.”

The moment the words leave your lips, his eyes shoot open. His gaze full of hunger and lust as he no longer holds himself back. His lips come crashing back down on yours. He lets go of your face and wrist and reaches for the button of your jeans. You help him remove them, sliding them down your legs and kicking them off as he lifts you up. Sitting you down on the edge of the table as your legs wrap around him, drawing him in closer to you. He presses his hips into you, his growing bulge pushing right into your weeping, cloth covered core. Your panties, soaked from your arousal, were sticking to your skin as you grind your hips in him. Namjoon’s hands scour your body. He lets out a soft moan as he brushes his hand over your breast, giving one a soft squeeze as he trails his hands down to the hem of your shirt. He breaks the kiss, lifting your shirt up over your head, a soft groan of approval at the sight of your lace covered chest. You take the opportunity to do the same to his, tossing his shirt to the side before grabbing his shoulders and bringing him in for another kiss. He rips at the back of your bra, breaking the clasp as he tears the offensive fabric from your body. You find it hard for you to care, feeling his desperate need for you too much of a turn on to dwell about the ruined garment.

He lays you back on to the table, kissing down your body and stopping at your breasts along the way. He wraps his lips around a hardened bud, massaging the other between his thumb and finger tips. He sucks lightly, pulling off with a pop as you let out a soft moan. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting this,” he confesses, trailing kisses across your skin before circling your other nipple with his tongue. He takes it in between his teeth and gives it a small bite. You breathe in sharply from the sensation, gasping out your response as he starts to trail kisses further down your body, sinking to his knees in front of you.

“Me, too, Joonie. Wanted you for so long.” You take in another sharp breath as he moves his face between your legs, nudging your clit with his nose before moving your panties to the side. He runs his tongue up your slit, gathering your leaking juices on the tip before flicking it against your sensitive bud. He brings his tongue back into his mouth. A deep guttural growl resonating from his chest as he savors your taste. “All for me” he growls as he reaches for the top of your panties. Pulling them down your leg and tossing them to join the previously discarded clothing.

He leans back into your core, planting soft kisses around every part of you except where you wanted him most. He moves over to your thigh, giving the soft flesh a nibble before sucking on the skin leaving rose colored patches trailing back towards your center. You feel him place his fingers on either side of your entrance, splitting your lower lips apart as he makes a V with fingers. You let out a small whine, reaching down to find the top of his head and weave your fingers into his hair. “Joonie, please. No teasing,” you beg.

The breath from his chuckle tickles you as he leans back in, flicking your clit again with his tongue. “So needy for me,” he mumbles, taking your clit between his slips. A soft moan slips past your lips as he slowly begins to suck rolling his tongue around your swollen bud. You feel him gathering your wetness on his fingers, slipping two of his digits into your slick hole with ease. You arch your back, mouth dropping open at the stretch as he pumps into you, scissoring his fingers every other thrust. “Need to prep you quick. Can’t wait any longer, “ he huffs out between licks, inserting a third finger into you as he picks up his speed. You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands each time he brushes against the small patch of nerve inside of you. Your walls start to flutter around him, alerting you both of your oncoming orgasm. Namjoon continues with his pace as he wraps his lips once again around your sensitive bud. “Come for me,” he demands. The words are muffled but your body hears it, obeying him as if it knows nothing else. Your orgasm leaves your body quivering, your toes curling in as a high pitched whine falls from your mouth.

You feel Namjoon pull away from, a soft groan rolls through your chest from the loss of him inside of you. You look at him through hooded eyes as he stands, hovering over you as he sticks his fingers in his mouth, cleaning them of your release. Your eyes flicker down to his large bulge, watching as his other hand busying itself as he palms himself over his shorts. Leaning up on your elbows as you observe Namjoon’s every motion of dropping his boxer and shorts.

Your eyes grow wide the moment his impressively large, erect member is released from its clothed cage. He grabs a hold of himself, pumping his throbbing length as he moves closer to you. Namjoon is huge. You can’t help but not feel surprised considering the build of him. You feel your core begin to clench, your pussy crying to be filled by him. Your mouth starts to water, your tongue wanting so bad to lick the precum leaking from the mushroomed tip. “I want to taste you,” you purr, pushing yourself up off the table. A pout forming on your lips as he shakes his head, laying you back down as he lines himself up with your entrance.

“Later baby,” he groans as he rubs his cock between your swollen lips. “I need to feel you.” He slowly starts to push in, catching your lips in an opened mouth kiss, swallowing every one of your moans. The feel of him stretching you open burns slightly, the sensation overridden by pleasure as Namjoon slips his hand between your bodies and rolls circles around your clit. You swear you could feel him in your stomach when he stops, still pleasuring your swollen bud as you adjust to the size of him. You want to tell him to move, breaking apart the kiss to do so when he speaks first.

“Just a little more baby. You think you can take in all of me?” He asks you, a shit eating grin splitting across his face as he notices the shock on your face.

“There’s still more of you?” You breathe out, peeking down in between your bodies at where you’re connected.

“Oh yes baby,” he coos, trailing kisses down your throat. “And it’s all for you.” Namjoon takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking lightly as he pushes his remaining inches inside you. Your back arches, pushing your breast further into his face as he bottoms out. A deep groan rumbling through his chest as he starts grinding into you.

“Move, Joonie.” Those words were all Namjoon needed to start up his pace. The first few pumps were slow, his hips stuttering ever so slightly as you can tell he was trying to hold back, to ease you in. His control falters as you pull his face up to you from your breast, whispering “faster” into his ear as you wrap your arms around his back. Your nails anchor into his muscles as he unleashes at an unrelenting pace.

Namjoon pumps into you with fervor. The storm and your surroundings fading into an abyss as the small room is filled with the sound of your shared wanton moans. Each thrust pushes Namjoon deeper and deeper. His length makes it easy for him to hit you in all the right places. Your nails leave red welts on his back with every pass of his tip over the rough patch inside of you. By the occasional hiss that leaves Joon’s lips, you can only guess a few of your love marks broke skin. Very soon, you feel a warming sensation building inside of you again. You shut your eyes, trying to sooth your body to hold out just a little longer.

Just as you feel yourself near the edge, Namjoon slams into you, pausing his relentless onslaught as he lifts you up from the table. Your legs wrapping around his waist for balance. He starts walking you around the room. The accumulating sweat of your naked bodies causes you to slowly lose group. You slip from his grasps just a little, your nails clawing into his shoulders as you squeeze your legs tighter around him. The action makes your walls clench around Namjoon’s member, still buried to the hilt inside of you. The sensation causes Namjoon to stumble, groaning as he braces you up against the nearest bookcase. “Fuck, baby,” he mumbles as he buries his face into the curve of your neck, nipping at your skin as he slowly grinds his hips up into you. “If you keep doing that, I’m not going to last much longer.”

You make your walls give him a playful squeeze, not able to help the giggle that escapes your lips as he pulls his face from your neck and glares at you. “Is that how you want to play?” He growls as he pushes you further against the bookcase, grabbing ahold of your waist as he reels his hips back. He pounds into you furiously, your head tilting back as your mouth drops open. You feel the warmth in your center resurfacing, growing fast as Namjoon bounces you harder on his dick.

You didn’t realize you had moved away from the bookcase until you feel the soft fabric of the couch hit your back. Namjoon lets out a soft grunt as he falls slightly on top of you, readjusting the two of you into a comfortable position in between each thrust. He shoves his face into the crook of your neck again, nipping along your collarbone as he transitions his movements into a slow grind. You feel like he’s holding himself back again and you silently hope you don’t ruin the mood with your next words. “You can mark me, Joonie. Only if you want to.”

You feel Namjoon’s hips pause as his shoulders tense under your arms. He leans up, wide eyed as he meets you face to face. “Y/N… You don’t know what you’re asking for. I mark you, I claim you. You’re mine forever.” He cups your face in his hands, his eyes watching you so intently, you feel as if he could peer into your soul. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Yes, Namjoon. I’ve only ever wanted you.” The look in Namjoon’s eyes turns feral as he dives down, taking your lips into a passionate kiss. His hips pull back, reigniting his pace with one hard thrust as he once again begins to pound into you. Releasing you from his kiss, he grabs your chin turning your face to the side as he whispers into your ear.

“All mine, huh? Pretty baby wants me to claim her? Want me to mark you? Mate you? Fill you up with my pups?” He continues to fucking into you as he insuates each point of his speech with hard thrusts. “You want me to pump you full of my cum? Fuck you until you’re good and pregnant?”

His words have your mind turning to mush. Thoughts of being his and only his taking over your every thought. A future where you bear his children. A future with him. You can hardly make out the words of agreement that fall from your lips as your entire body starts to tingle. Your walls begin to flutter, the subtle indication causing Namjoon to quicken his pace, helping you chase your release alongside his.

“Come with me baby.” Your mind barely registers Namjoons words as waves of euphoria flow through your body. The power of your orgasm minimizes the sudden stab of pain on your shoulder from where Namjoon’s canines pierce your skin from his bite. You feel his length twitch inside of you as spurts of his come fill you to the brim. Suddenly, you feel an uncomfortable pressure just past your entrance. The excessive stretching of your walls causes you to whine as you try to squirm free. Namjoon caresses the side of your face as he peppers kisses around his mark, whispering to you that it’s okay. You let your body relax as much as possible. The ringing in your ears subsides. The only sound you hear now is the mismatched heavy breathing between the two of you.

Namjoon places his arm next to your head, trying to prop himself up to keep as much of his body weight on top of you. He leans up just a bit, the movement causing his knot inside you to slightly tug at your entrance and you wince. Namjoon freezes before lowering himself back down a bit. “Sorry,” he huffs out in a chuckle. Kissing you on the lips as he rubs tiny circles with his thumb on your hip. “I know this can’t be comfortable, but it’ll go down soon.”

“It’s okay,” you breathe out, reaching your arms up to wrap around his neck. “I can handle it. Anything for you.”

He smiles at your words, leaning in closer to you to rub the tip of his nose against yours as you smile back at him. You both lie there for a few minutes, relishing in the feeling of being so full of him as his cock slowly softens inside of you. The feeling doesn’t last much longer as the realization of where you still are sinks in. “Um, how soon is soon though?” you ask. Your nerves make you feel suddenly very exposed under the fact that anyone could have walked in during your activities.

Namjoon leans back up and gives his hip a little test tug. With no signs of resistance, he continues to pull completely out of you. The both of you wince at the loss, you once more as you feel the mixtures of your releases starting to spill out of you. Namjoon catches the escaped fluids with his fingers, pushing it back inside of you. “Fuck, I need to get you back home,” he says as he moves off the couch, retrieving your discarded clothes and bringing them back to you. “Seeing you like this will definitely be something that could set off my heat again.”

You let out a giggle as you grab your panties, slipping them on before any more of his release tries to slip out. “We’re lucky Jimin didn’t get back early.”

As if on queue, you hear the front door chime, alerting you of someone’s arrival. “Hellooo! Joon Y/N? You guys still here?” Jimin’s voice trails up the stairs as you and Namjoon look at each other, eyes growing wide in panic. You both scramble to throw on the rest of your clothes. Barely getting the final pieces settled in place before Jimin’s blonde hair comes into sight. He stops at the top of the stairs, head cocking to the side in curiosity as he sees you and Namjoon standing awkwardly by the couch. Mischief twinkling in his eyes as he crosses his arms. “What have you guys been up to? Y/N, what’s that on your neck?”

You reach up to your shoulder, feeling part of the bite mark sticking out of your collar and pulling your shirt to cover the rest. Namjoon lets out an awkward cough, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the stairwell. “I was just showing Y/N around. But it’s time for us to go, see you in a week.”

You give Jimin a wave by as you follow Namjoon down the stairs. As you make it to the front door, you hear Jimin call down from the loft, “I hope you have a great vacation, Joon. Have fun you two.”

You see Namjoon’s cheeks flush pink as he pulls you faster out the door and towards your car, the weather taking a temporary break from the rain. Opening your car door for you, he waits for you to start to get in before tugging on your arm, bringing you back to standing in front of him. He pulls you in for a kiss, the both of you breaking into a smile before it ends. Oh yes. Fun you two will most definitely have.

#bangtansorciere #bangtanuniversity #bangtanarmynet #kwritersworldnet #btscreatorscorner #houseofddaeng #btswritingcafe #hyunglinenetwork #bangtaninn #bts smut #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x yn #bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic

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arrantsnowdrop · 3 years

Text

To be a Jedi - Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Request: “anakin/female!reader getting together fic that involves reader crying because she’s feeling self-conscious about her appearance and feeling worthless and anakin comforting her and calming her down and then accidentally confessing to her?”

Tags: @lothloriien

Warnings: self-deprecation, insecurities, etc. (~2,500 words)

~~~~~

Being a Jedi really sucked sometimes.

Not all the time. In fact, you normally enjoyed the fast-paced, demanding lifestyle you led. Even as a youngling you had taken pride in the ritual and responsibility of being a Jedi, and now, as a Padawan on the verge of facing the Jedi trials, you were more confident than ever that the Force had led you down the right path.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t have bad days every once in a while.

Your Master had been called away on some highly classified mission in the Naboo system, so you’d been spending the week at the Jedi Temple working on some independent research and participating in training sessions with the other senior Padawans. Unfortunately, they were focusing on lightsaber combat this week - something you were definitely not as skilled at considering your specialization in negotiation and communications.

It wasn’t that you were unathletic - you were training to be a Jedi for crying out loud - but it was hard not to feel a little self-conscious about how much you were struggling with the training exercises, especially when your assigned training partner was none other than Anakin Skywalker.

It was just past midday - you’d been training for hours already and still had a few to go. The sun was blaring down on the courtyard where you and the other Padawans were sparring under Obi-Wan’s supervision.

You panted heavily, eyeing Anakin as the two of you circled each other slowly. There was no question as to which one of you would launch the next parry - Anakin had taken the offensive right out of the gate - so all you could do was try to catch your breath and prepare yourself for his next attack.

His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, a few beads of sweat dripping down his forehead and some of his hair sticking to his face. His eyes were following your every move, tracking you like you were some kind of prey.

You hated this.

Suddenly, Anakin lunged forward, blue lightsaber whirring loudly as he swung it towards you. You groaned, lifting your own lightsaber up at the last possible moment to deflect him.

“Such a slow reaction time,” Anakin teased, grinning as he stepped back to give himself a wider range of motion.

“I thought it would take you longer to catch your breath,” you replied, voice strained as you blocked another one of his strikes.

You’d been friends with Anakin since Obi-Wan took him as a Padawan years ago, offering to help him as he played “catch up” with the rest of you. The fact he’d become such a strong Force-user despite starting so late was something you deeply respected him for, though you were perfectly content simply watching him display these skills.

Being on the receiving end of a lightsaber attack from Anakin Skywalker was not something you would consider enjoyable. You’d spent the whole morning dodging and jumping and somehow still losing every match.

You flinched as Anakin’s lightsaber hit your torso, the sting of the “training mode” setting hurting far less than the sting of your own pride.

“Seven to one,” Obi-Wan called from where he was watching. You groaned, rubbing your temples with your free hand and turning your lightsaber off.

“Hey, you were definitely doing better than time,” Anakin said reassuringly, sensing your frustration. “Improvement is all Obi-Wan is looking for.”

“Improvement doesn’t take away from the fact I’ve lost seven matches today,” you seethed, bending down to re-tie the laces of your boots.

“Perhaps if you worked out a bit more you wouldn’t lose so often,” one of the other Padawans jested. Your head snapped up, face flushing as you sent them a pointed glare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked curtly, watching them look between you and Anakin uncomfortably.

“It’s just-”

They didn’t get a chance to finish, letting out a small shriek as they dodged a rock flying through the air. You turned around to look at Anakin, his slightly raised hand indicating who’d been responsible for the rock. At least he was using his Force capabilities in your favor now.

“Thanks,” you muttered, reigniting your lightsaber, glancing at the clock above where Obi-Wan was sitting. All you wanted was for training to be over so you could retreat to your room.

“They don’t know what they’re talking about,” Anakin said, a somewhat angry look on his face as he took a fighting stance across from you. “You’re perfectly capable of wielding a lightsaber, and you’d definitely beat them if you’d been paired up.”

“Hopefully,” you corrected him, “hopefully I’d beat them.”

“Definitely,” Anakin insisted, you rolling your eyes as you lifted your lightsaber in front of you.

----

What sucked about getting older was how little you saw Obi-Wan and Anakin. Your Master was responsible for conducting multiple research projects for the Jedi Council off-world, and Obi-Wan and Anakin hardly ever stayed on Coruscant for longer than a few days, so it was unlikely that you’d find yourselves in the same place for a decent amount of time anymore.

Normally, you would’ve used this week as a great opportunity to catch up with one of your oldest friends. This damn lightsaber training was getting in the way.

It had been yet another long day of sweating the equivalent of your own bodyweight and paling in comparison to Anakin’s abilities. Obi-Wan had focused on lightsaber combat in precarious and compromising situations, with one of which resulting in you falling off a two story rock wall.

As you stood in front of the mirror in your room you couldn’t overlook the spattering of bruises covering your torso and arms, all varying hues of blue and purple culminating from the last few days. You sighed, grateful you were getting the extra training you so clearly needed and nervous about what that meant. Imagine you’d been confronted by some Sith fanatic in the last few weeks - who knows how long you would’ve lasted?

Perhaps you were overthinking. You did have an extremely over-skilled training partner who made most other Jedi look incompetent with a lightsaber.

That being said, you still couldn’t shake what that other Padawan had said about you yesterday. Had you really become unathletic? You didn’t think you’d ever really neglected your daily training exercises, but perhaps those weren’t enough.

You sat down on the edge of your bed slowly, shoulder slumped. Maybe you weren’t as capable as you thought. The bruises all over you and lack of any actual visible muscle certainly pointed towards that.

----

The next morning, you skipped breakfast, giving Obi-Wan some offhanded explanation as to why you’d be missing training and heading for the library. You weren’t really skipping for no reason, your Master had given you a list of different research topics for you to look up in the Jedi Archives. Did you really need the extra time to get this done? No, but it still gave you a good excuse to avoid the feeling of physical incapability that accompanied your training sessions.

Plus, you didn’t want to slow the entire group down. Tears pricked at your eyes as you remembered yesterday when Obi-Wan made you repeat some dumb exercise on a floating raft over and over again, even though everyone else had already done it to his satisfaction. It was humiliating.

At least here in the library, surrounded by stacks of holograms and books, you were in your element. Here you didn’t have to move fast or chop anyone’s limb off out of self-defense.

It was sometime in the late afternoon when Anakin stormed into the library, loud footsteps immediately shushed by a swarm of librarians. You couldn’t help but grin softly, eyes meeting his as he marched over to you much more quietly.

“Even the great Anakin Skywalker is no match for an angry librarian,” you teased, him scoffing as he plopped down in a chair next to you.

“And where were you today?” Anakin asked, a strange intensity behind his question. You gulped, gesturing to the pile of transcripts and notes in front of you.

“I was right here,” you replied meekly.

“Since this morning?” he asked, eyes widening in surprise. You nodded.

“What the heck, Y/N,” he groaned, leaning back in his chair. “Obi-Wan assigned me a different partner. Do you know how irritating every other Padawan is to train with?”

“No, I’ve only ever trained with you,” you said bluntly.

“Exactly!” Anakin responded a little too loudly, earning him a dramatic shush from the circulation desk.

“Shut up,” you chuckled, slapping his chest lightly. He rolled his eyes.

“What I mean is that I’ve only ever trained with you, too, so everyone else doesn’t live up to my expectations.”

“What expectations?” you asked quizzically, flipping one of your notebooks closed.

“Working hard but still having a good time,” he answered, waving his hand nonchalantly. “You never sacrifice good banter for anything, I value that.”

“Ah, I’m glad to know you only value me as a training partner for my humor,” you retorted dryly, gathering all your belongings into a pile and standing up. Anakin’s brows furrowed as he looked up at you, a confused look painted across his face.

“Hey, what?” he asked, standing up with you. “What happened?”

“Nothing, just makes sense that you only enjoy my conversation, not anything actually training-related.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, completely dumbfounded as you started walking away.

“See you tomorrow, Anakin,” you replied, refusing to shed any more tears until you reached your room.

----

The next morning you were too unmotivated to let Obi-Wan know you weren’t coming, deciding instead to stay in bed and do absolutely nothing. Well, you were reading, but what did that really matter to a Jedi? You were supposed to be able to do backflips through the air and take on five enemies at once, and yet here you were wrapped in two blankets feeling like absolute shit. Some Jedi you were.

You held your breath as someone began knocking furiously on the door, hoping desperately they would think you weren’t home.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there,” Anakin called. You groaned, turning around and smashing your face into the pillow.

“Y/N!” he called again.

“Don’t come in!” you shouted back, voice muffled through the pillow.

“I’m coming in.”

“Don’t-”

You never got the chance to finish, bolting upright in bed as the door flew open, Anakin stalking in. You rolled your eyes, just thankful he had kept the door on its hinges.

“What is wrong with you?” he demanded, cringing as you recoiled slightly at his harsh words.

“What do you mean?” you replied quietly, his face softening as he took a seat on the edge of your bed.

“I meant what’s wrong, not what’s wrong with you,” Anakin corrected, taking your hand in his own.

“Nothing’s wr-”

“Don’t give me that,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “Don’t even try, I know you better than anyone Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You kept quiet, focusing on the way his thumb was rubbing small circles on the back of your hand.

“You’ve been acting off since we started training together, is it something I did?” he tried again, genuinely concerned. You laughed dryly and shook your head.

“No, Anakin, you didn’t do anything,” you replied truthfully, looking at him. “You’re perfect, I promise you did nothing wrong.” He gave you a small smile, looking down to where he was still holding your hand. He didn’t let go, only gripped you a little tighter, urging you to continue. You bit your lip, debating whether or not to tell him.

“Do you remember when that Padawan told me I needed to exercise more?” you asked finally. His head snapped up, eyes meeting yours.

“I knew it,” he murmured, nostrils flaring as he tried (and failed) to conceal his budding anger. “I knew it.”

“Anakin it’s ok,” you said, reaching out and rubbing his forearm, his gaze following your hand. “I mean, they were right, if I-”

“No,” Anakin said. “No, they weren’t right. They have no idea how strong you are, how capable-”

“Anakin I’ve struggled this entire week,” you blurted, eyes stinging and face heating up. “I pale in comparison to you, and the other Padawans, at least physically. I thought whatever training I’d been doing had been enough but clearly it wasn’t, so they’re right. I need to exercise more, I need to train more, I’m incapable of defending myself with a lightsaber and I don’t even look like a proper Jedi.” You thrust your bruised arms out towards him. “Look at these, you don’t have them, no one else does. I’m the only one who struggles with every exercise and test.”

You realized you’d begun to cry, tears rolling down your face and breaths shallow.

“Y/N,” Anakin murmured, hurt in his eyes as he took your arms gingerly in his hands. “Y/N, no.”

Your eyes widened as Anakin bent over, slowly pressing his mouth to each bruise on your forearms. You gulped, feeling a little dizzy as Anakin glanced up at you. “You’re an amazing Jedi,” he started, sitting back up straight and pulling you closer to him. You tried to pull away, not wanting to stain his robes with your tears, but he held you firmly. “You’re already stronger than half the people in that group, I’ll have Obi-Wan reassign you so you can kick someone’s ass and everyone will realize it.”

“Anakin-”

He shushed you, resting his chin on the top of your head. You closed your eyes, reveling in the warmth of his body against yours.

“There’s more to being a Jedi than using a lightsaber, anyways,” he continued. “You’re the only person our age in this whole temple that can negotiate with warlords and thieves and murderers and still come back unscathed with five new friends.”

You chuckled, biting your lip as he pressed a kiss against your hair.

“You’re perfect, Y/N,” he insisted softly, you shifting in his arms to gaze up at him.

You were surprised by how nervous he looked, as if he didn’t know how you’d react to what he’d just said, what he’d just implied. You just smiled softly, leaning up to press a slow kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, Anakin,” you mumbled against his face, grinning as you felt him smile.

Suddenly he pushed himself up, forcing you down onto the bed and collapsing on top of you. You shrieked, bursting into a fit of giggles as he began nestling himself in your hair.

“Shouldn’t you still be at training?” you asked, a wide smile on your face.

“I was sent here by Obi-Wan to fetch you,” he replied smugly.

“So shouldn’t we both be getting back then?”

He propped himself up on his elbows, gazing down at you with a cocky smile on his face.

“I never told him when I’d be coming back.”

You decided you could afford to skip training another day - Anakin probably needed the rest anyways - and pulled his face down to meet your own.

#anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #star wars fanfiction

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dreamerstreamer · 3 years

Text

Noise Complaint

Pairing: Wilbur Soot x gn!neighbour!reader

Summary: The guy living next door to you never seemed to shut up, and one day you decide that you’ve had enough.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: this work was inspired by wilbur’s recent eviction notice (lol), dodie’s song, absolutely smitten, and my recent pasta addiction! by the way, this may or may not be entirely accurate, but who cares? let me have some fun!

You hummed as you scooped the last of the pasta onto your plate, furrowing your brows. Something’s missing.

It hit you in a flash, your eyes lighting up as you turned on your heel to scramble into your kitchen. You strolled over to the windowsill where a small potted plant sat, basking in the sun’s warm, golden rays. “Hey, basil,” you said quietly, reaching over. “This might hurt a little, but it’ll only be a pinch.”

Tugging gently and carefully, you picked a few leaves off the plant’s branches, wincing a little. “Thank you,” you murmured with an apologetic smile as you turned away, walking over to your sink. You gave the leaves a quick wash before grabbing a knife from its spot in your knife block. With ease, you chopped the leaves into smaller bits, scooping them up with one hand while the other set the knife down on the cutting board. You skipped back over to your dining room with a small skip in your step, grinning as you took the chopped bits of basil in your hand and sprinkled them across the pasta in your plate.

Perfect, you thought to yourself with a small smile, stepping back to admire your work. With a satisfied grin, you slipped into your chair, picking up your fork as you began to dig in.

Today was your first day off in ages, and you couldn’t have been more pleased. It was a beautiful day out, and you had spent the morning out with your friends, catching up on everything over a quaint meal at your favourite restaurant. All the days spent running around for your boss suddenly felt like they were worth it and more as you laughed at your friends’ antics while you ate. While you had to part in the afternoon, you were more than happy to simply complete some household chores that you had missed out on during your usual hectic schedule. As sunset drew closer and closer, you found your stomach grumbling once more in a plea for attention and food. What better way to quench your hunger with some good ol’ pasta?

A muffled shout dragged you out of your thoughts, your shoulders jolting at the sudden noise. You let out a sharp yelp at the abrupt noise, holding a hand over your heart in an effort to calm yourself. After a second of silence passed, a frown etched itself onto your features.

Of course he was being loud, again.

You sighed, stabbing your pasta with a little more vigour. You loved your home, you really did. It was a lovely apartment with more than enough space for you to live comfortably on your own, and you had managed to get it for a criminally cheap price. It was located near your workplace and was even in a safe part of the city. Your neighbours were also wonderful, most of them being polite, friendly, and quiet.

With one particular exception—the guy who lived directly next door to you.

You didn’t really know who he was, per se. You knew that he was your neighbour, that he mostly spent his time at home, and that he was loud. So, so loud. You didn’t think anyone could be this loud when they spent nearly all of their time in an apartment, but he somehow proved you wrong. If it wasn’t the occasional yell, then it was always “chat” this and “chat” that. What the heck was he even talking about? You didn’t know, and you weren’t sure that you cared, either.

Even after having lived here for weeks, you still didn’t have a single clue who this guy was, but you were sure of one thing.

He was absolutely driving you up the wall.

While he wasn’t always super loud—miraculously, there were indeed quiet days—you couldn’t go more than a few days without getting startled awake from sleep or dropping something out of surprise. You were pretty sure you had already broken four dishes just because of him. Despite everything that had happened, you still hadn’t confronted him about it. You liked to believe that hey, this is just a one time thing, or it’s not so bad! You’d been feeding yourself these itty bitty white lies for weeks now, and you were starting to run out of patience.

You shook your head, examining the last piece of pasta on your fork with a roll of your eyes. Well, at least he was being quiet no—

Bang!

You yelped again, your fingers going limp in shock. Before you could even register what happened, your fork slipped from your hand, the pasta smacking landing on your shirt before sliding off you and landing on the floor. With horror, you stared down at the stain on your once pristine white shirt, the mark staring back at you mockingly.

Oh. Oh no.

You clenched your jaw, an incessant irritation clawing at the back of your mind as you stood, stomping over to your front door.

This was the last straw. You’ve had enough of his crap, and you were about to give him a piece of your mind

Pulling open your door, you only had to walk four steps before you stood face to face with your neighbour’s wooden door. Raising your fist, you knocked against the wood with an intensity that you didn’t think you were capable of. A few moments passed with no response, but you were sure you could hear some rustling on the other side of the door. You crossed your arms as you waited, tapping your foot. Just who in the world did this guy think he wa—

Just then, the door swung open to reveal your neighbour.

You blinked tilting your head back as you craned your neck at him. Your eyes widened in surprise.

He was tall, ridiculously so. With brown, fluffy hair that hung a little over his forehead and a dark, expressive gaze that looked down at you in confusion, he was also very, very cute.

Damn him for being attractive. In another world, you might have even liked him. But right now, you had a score to settle. His attractiveness could wait.

“Hi,” you said, plastering a polite smile to your face. “I don’t think we’ve properly met before.” You extended your hand out toward him in a handshake. “My name’s [Y/N]. I live just next door.”

The confusion is his gaze parted slightly to give way to understanding. His lips curled to reveal a blinding white grin as he took your hand in his, shaking it. “Hello,” he said, his low voice practically enveloping itself around you. “I’m Wilbur Soot.”

His hands are so warm, your heart prompted. And soft. His smile is also really pretty. And his voice is so nice!

Shut up, you thought back as you pulled your hand from his. This was unfair. So unfair.

“I moved in a little under a month ago,” you began slowly, doing your best to keep your tone civil and calm, “and I only just realized that I never properly introduced myself to you.”

Wilbur’s grin only seemed to grow wider, and you hated just how sincere it was. “Well, it is certainly a pleasure to meet you.” His eyes darted down to your shirt, and you watched as he shifted awkwardly. “Oh, you, um, have something on your shirt.” He gestured to the bottom of his sweater with a sheepish smile, and you felt yourself losing your grip.

“I know,” you said between clenched teeth. “I spilled some pasta on it. As a matter of fact, I’m actually here to talk to you about that.”

His eyebrows knit together. “About pasta?”

The smile dropped from your face. Oh, that was it.

“Look,” you said sharply, feeling the slightest tinge of delight when you saw him jump a bit at your sudden shift in tone, “if I’m being blatantly honest, you can be really loud at these completely arbitrary times, and I’m just asking you to please, please be at least a little quieter. I startle easily, and your random yelling or wall-smacking or whatever have really been causing problems for me.”

“Like your shirt,” he said quietly.

“Like my shirt,” you confirmed.

The look on his face was genuinely upset, and you almost let yourself feel bad for calling him out. Almost.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had no idea that this was a problem. This is going to sound really weird, but it’s...” He paused. “...kind of my job to occasionally yell?”

Now it was your turn to be confused. “‘It’s kind of your job...’” You shook your head. “Oh, forget it. Just... if you can, I would really appreciate if you could keep it down, even if only a little.” You grimaced. “I don’t think I can handle dropping another bowl.”

He winced, a wave of guilt flashing across his face. “Seriously,” he said, “I’m really, really sorry. The other neighbours said they were fine with me being a bit loud when I first came here, and I hadn’t even realized that you were new.” He slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out a wallet. “If you’d like, I’m more than happy to reimburse you for any inconveniences you ran into because of me.”

Your eyes widened, your jaw falling slack. As much trouble as he had caused you, you didn’t want to just take his money. That would be a whole other level of petty.

Holding your hands up in front of you and waving them frantically. “No, no, no, no, no, that’s too much.” You offered him a smile, a real one this time. “Just a little more quiet is perfect for me.”

The relief on his face was evident, but there was also something else there. It sort of looked like awe. “Thank you,” he said. “I never meant to cause you so much harm. I’ll make it up to you, really! I promise.”

“Pinky promise?” you immediately said, raising your hand with your pinky extended.

A part of you cringed a little at yourself, wondering how childish you must seem right now. Your friends always teased you about making pinky promises even as an adult, years after you had left the playground, but you stood firm in your beliefs—pinky promises were eternal. But for some reason you couldn’t name, you felt almost embarrassed by yourself.

It’s ‘cause you’re into him, your heart chirped, speaking up once more. You want to leave a good impression!

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Shut up, shut up.

However, to your surprise, he nodded, lifting up his own pinky. “Pinky promise.”

You grinned, elation jumping through your veins. He wrapped his pinky around yours and squeezed. You squeezed back, ignoring the tingle that went down your spine as you did so.

Pulling your hand away, you offered him a bashful smile. “Sorry if I came across as really aggressive. I’m not usually like this.”

His lips quirked up at the side. “I don’t blame you, really.” He glanced down at your shirt, again. “If someone made me stain my shirt with pasta, I’d be reasonably upset, too.”

You giggled, waving a hand at him. “Well, you’re a nice guy, so I assure you I’m not that mad.” You stepped back, shooting him a teasing look. “I am going to hold you to that pinky promise, though!”

He laughed and, damnit, even his laugh was cute. “I don’t doubt it.” Stepping back inside his apartment, he raised his hand in a wave. “It was nice meeting you, [Y/N].”

You waved back. “You too, Wilbur.”

As his door fell shut, you sighed to yourself, a sense of satisfaction fell over you. Well, that went much better than I expected, you thought as you walked back to your apartment. You strode over to your kitchen table, picking up your empty plate and fallen fork, wiping off the small mark left by the pasta on the floor. He’s nicer than I thought.

You walked over to your sink, your mind swirling with the interaction you just had as you turned on the tap. Wilbur’s face flashed across your mind, and a familiar, warm buzz ran up your skin, something sweet and soft latching onto your insides like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

Oh. Oh no.

You recognized that feeling. You knew what that fluttering in your stomach was.

You like him! your heart sang, dancing around in your chest and waving a neon sign with Wilbur’s name on it. You tooootally like him!

With a groan, you frowned as you picked up a sponge. Shut up, shut up, shut uuup!

Wilbur Soot may be kind, polite, well-mannered, pretty, cute, and tall, but there was no way you were about to let him off the hook that easily. He ruined your one good white shirt! He just happened to be... less sucky than you thought.

“Wilbur Soot is just my next-door neighbour,” you said quietly aloud to yourself, scrubbing angrily at your dishes, “and I definitely don’t like him.”

But deep down, you knew that it was no use.

You were smitten.

633 notes · View notes

itsstrange · 3 years

Text

Coffee Run & Green Eyes

Series: Spark Between Us

Relationship: Jensen Ackles x Skyline McNoir (OFC)

A/N: Hey everyone! I know it’s been a long time and I apologize for those waiting for more stories, but if you follow me on IG then you would know that this last week I was struck with a stomach flu which caused me to not have enough energy for various things. Luckily, I’ve recovered and feel much better. I also want to apologize to those who have requested me some stories, don’t worry I have Not forgotten about you! Just been dealing with some things!

But!! To not keep you guys in the dark I decided to post a Series I wrote for Ao3 on here, just to give y’all something to read meanwhile I work on some other works for y’all!! Hope y’all enjoy it!

Another thing, we have hit 105 followers y’all!!!! Thank you so much for all the love y’all continue in giving me!! I appreciate it so much!! 🥲💚

✨{Credits to owner for the gif}✨

Summary: Skyline McNoir tags along with a few friends who are attending a convention of some show she’s never watched. Little did she know, she would fall head over heels for the lead actor.

Word Count: 2.4 K

Warnings: Will contain Fluff, public sex, alcohol consumption, public fingering, just pure NSFW for all you Jensen fans out there 😊

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ENJOY!!

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The blasting chorus of Follow Me Now by Jason Gleed, wakes Skyline up. Her Hazel eyes glare straight ahead at the coconut cream wall for a few seconds before bringing the cover above her head, trying to muffled the music. Which didn’t help. At all. Then to make the morning less fun, her bed begins to shake violently by her best friend who’s jumping up down awhile singing at the top of her lungs. Skyline groans into the covers and tries to bury herself deeper into the warmth, but before she can even hide, the covers are being shoved off her form. A shiver runs throughout her body from the coldness in the room.

“C’mon Sky! Today’s the day!” Erin yells as she hovers above,

Skyline groans once again, eyes closed shut when it’s far too bright in the room “Five more minutes,”

“No come on,” Erin says, slightly pushing Sky’s body with her foot, “Tiffany and Laila are already downstairs grabbing breakfast,”

Still not moving, Erin shoves her body once again with her foot, when that didn’t do the trick an evil smirk spreads on her face. Grabbing an unused pillow, she raises it above her head before roughly slamming it against Sky’s head, causing her to jerk upright. With sleep still in her eyes, Sky is only able to squint at her best friend.

“Erin! What the fu-,” Her words were cut off when a large pillow smacks her in the face,

Erin chuckles at her, ignoring the death stare as she hops off her bed, “Chop chop.. we got a busy day today!”

With a roll of her eyes and a loud groan, Sky rolls off the comforter and towards the bathroom. After taking care of her regular morning routines, she hops in the shower. Erin’s music still blasted through the speakers, as Sky took a quick shower and she honestly hoped none of their neighbors complained about their disturbance, she knew she would have if she was trying to get a few more hours of shut eye.

That’s all she ever really wanted at the moment, sleep. After months of studying, exams, piles upon piles of work, and busting all nighters she was finally in winter break. The feeling of being able to come home for the holidays and spending those days with her family sounded amazing and relaxing. However, after the second day of being home, she gets a call from Erin. Mentioning something about having another extra ticket for a convention to meet the cast of some show she’s never watched. She kindly declined the offer, wanting to spend her days off with her family sounded like a much better idea than meeting unknown actors. However, Sky often forgets Erin is not the type to take no for an answer and demanded her to hand the phone over to her mother.

Thinking her mother would defend her and find a way to convince Erin to try and find someone else to take to the convention, Sky hands the phone over to her mother. You can only imagine who won that argument.

Once out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her body, Sky heads out the bathroom and towards her duffel bag. In the winter season of Austin, Texas, she decides on a plain long sleeve, black jeans, grey hoodie, black boots on her feet with a leather jacket on top. Once her hair is made and adds a couple splashes of makeup on her face, she grabs her phone and book from the small counter as she follows Erin out the room. After a few minutes later, they finally arrive in the breakfast buffet where Tiffany and Laila are already stuffing themselves with waffles and eggs. With a yawn, Sky makes her way over to the buffet with Erin right behind her. Once they both get their plates and sit down on the table, they dig in before getting on with their day.

****

8:45 am

“Oh my god!! I just hugged Speight!!” The sound of Laila coming around the corner interrupts Sky from her book,

The sight of Laila bouncing up and down on her feet with a wide grin makes a small chuckle escape from Skyline. As her friends beamed over this Speight guy, Sky returns her focus down on her book. Not really paying much attention at their excitement, but still having a smile on her lips as she reads the next chapter in her book. Even if she’s not having the same excitement as her friends, she is still having fun with them. Being around them in general for whatever reason always brightens her day. No matter how rough of a day she’s seems to be having, her girls always know just how to distract her and make her have fun.

“Ohh it’s almost time for Osric’s panel,” Tiffany says while looking down at her phone,

No longer able to focus on her book, Sky marks her spot before getting up from the floor.

“You guys go in, I’ve got auto’s for Kim at nine,”

It’s barely nine in the morning? Jesus. Sky thinks to herself, the day has felt extremely long she could have sworn it was already noon.

“Okay, let’s go Sky,” Laila motions her head to the side for her to follow,

“If you guys want me to continue tagging along, I’m gonna need an espresso,” Sky states, feeling yet another yawn creeping up her throat,

Her friends chuckle at her but agreed with her idea. They wouldn’t want her dragging her feet all over the convention, besides, coffee did sound like a great idea. Once writing down their preferred drinks in her notes, Sky leaves through the doors, down the steps and towards a coffee shop not too far away. It was only a couple blocks away, she should make it back in no time. Hugging her jacket closer to her body when the wind picks up, Sky quickens her movements to avoid its freezing weather but careful to not slip on the wet pavement. The last thing she needs is to fall flat on her ass, better yet get a concussion or go back home with a broken wrist.

Boy would her mom faint if she saw her daughter in a cast. Will most likely give her a lecture on why it’s important not to be on the phone during the most worst seasons. ‘If you weren’t on the phone this wouldn’t have happened Skyline’. Yep. She can definitely hear her ranting.

After a few blocks in the harsh winds, Skyline is finally reaching the small little coffee joint. Just as she reaches for the handle of the door, another, large, hand reaches at the same time. Thick fingers slightly touching her own, making her pull back with an apology.

“No it’s fine go ahead,” A deep voice says beside her, letting a shiver run down her body,

Most likely from the weather, what else would it be?

She looks up at the man. Dark beard, shades on his face, black hat on his head, with a black T-Shirt underneath a checkered navy flannel and black Levi’s jacket. Even under the dark shades she can tell he was good looking, handsome in fact.

“No you can go ahead,” Sky smiles at the man, stepping aside for him to enter,

He only shakes his head, gripping the door handle as he opens it for her, “Please I insist, my mom would throw a fit if she finds out I didn’t show my manners,”

Sky chuckles at him, “Well we wouldn’t want that now,”

The man chuckles back, smile forming on his lips. Man did that smile just make her stomach flip.

“No, we really wouldn’t,” Chuckling once more at him she accepts the offer with a thanks before entering the coffee shop,

As she walks inside, the change of temperature immediately hits her cold cheeks. Almost as if a heating furnace was suddenly shoved in her face, but she wasn’t complaining, the warmth was needed. Walking further into the coffee shop, she takes a glance over her shoulder to see if the man was behind her, but only lets a smile appear when she catches the moment of him allowing an elderly couple enter before him.

That’s sweet. She thinks to herself as she walks up to the counter. Once her drinks have been ordered and paid, she heads over to a small empty table near the window. Sitting on the chair she pulls out her book and continues where she left off as she waits for her drinks. A few minutes had passed and Sky was too engrossed in her book to notice her name being called out by the barista. Eventually though, she comes back to reality when someone places her drink in front her. Looking up from her book she meets eyes with bright emerald orbs, and noticing those breathtaking eyes belong to the same man from the door.

“I’m guessing your Skyline?,” The way her name rolls off his deep voice sends a shiver down her spine,

Definitely can’t be the air this time, absolutely not.

Eyeing the cup of coffee in front of her, she lifts a eyebrow at the man, teasing him. Even if she sees her name written on the side of the cup.

“And what makes you think that?” The way his lips slightly lift causes something to flip in her stomach,

Again.

“Well.. seeing how there’s hardly folks in here,” He looks around the shop for a few seconds before landing his eyes on hers again, “and you being the only one sitting down without a coffee.. I took a guess,”

Sky hums with a smile as she takes the cup, “Nice deduction,”

He shrugs a shoulder with a smile, “This seat taken?”

Sky shakes her head as she takes careful sips from her drink. With a small smile the man pulls out the chair with his other free hand, seeing how he has a cup of his own in one hand.

“I’m Ross by the way,” The man extends a hand once seated,

With a smile Sky accepts his hand, feeling it warm and rough as it wraps around her own.

“Nice to meet you,” Still smiling she pulls away from his firm hand,

“You around from here or just passing through?” He asks, taking careful sips from his cup,

Sky softly smiles at him as she wraps her hands around her coffee, trying to warm up her fingers.

“Born and raised,” He raises a brow at the small fact,

“No kidding?”

She nods, “Yeah but I’m just home for the holidays,”

He hums with a nod, “In the army or something?”

Sky couldn’t help the chuckle that escapes from her, definitely noticing how the corner of the mans lips slightly lift as well.

“More like college. My last year,”

“Really? What’re you studying?” He asks, taking another sip, never letting his eyes drift from her Hazel ones,

But does notice how they dart down towards his mouth before quickly looking back up to his eyes. A small smirk hides behind the cup, but doesn’t hide it when he pulls it away from his face.

“Biology,” He hums once again with a sincere smile, making her stomach flip,

It was such an odd feeling, especially when it was coming directly from a man she hardly knows. But for some reason, it felt right. Their conversations switched from topic to topic, never faltering. It just felt right, as if they were long time friends catching up with each other instead of two strangers who just met. Eventually, their conversation was cut short with the barista calling out her name once again with the rest of her drinks.

Getting up from her seat she walks over to the counter where her drinks waited. As she grabbed a cup holder and begins placing her drinks in each space, Ross, settles next to her. Getting a whiff of his cologne. Leaning on the counter he had both his and her coffee in either hand, which he hands over with a smile once all coffees were safely secured in place.

“I should get going,” She smiles up at his green orbs, and only then noticing how freckles are splashed on his face,

This man was literally dashing, no doubt about it.

“Yeah same here,” He says looking down at his watch, “Need a ride?”

She shakes her head with a smile, “I’m good thanks,”

“You sure? Heard it might rain,” He continues to lean on the counter as she places her coffee in an empty slot of the holder,

“I’m sure, it’s just a few blocks from here,”

“Well it can rain from those few blocks,” He argues as he gives her a smile, not wanting to end their little moment,

Neither did she, but she had friends waiting and the moment she tells them the reason why she took a little longer than expected, they wouldn’t leave her alone until she gives them the whole shebang.

She lets a small chuckle escape her lips as she picks up the coffees, “I’ll make a run for it,”

He softly chuckles at her comment, green eyes staring straight into her Hazel orbs that have slightly turned grey from her sweater. Definitely finding her and her eyes fascinating and beautiful.

“It was nice meeting you Ross,” She smiles at him as she walks away,

He smiles as he watches her, sending her a wave goodbye when she looks over her shoulder before walking out the door. Watching her leave didn’t feel like a loss, it felt the complete opposite actually. Why? Well for starters, he knew it wouldn’t be the last time he saw her considering she had the all too familiar Creation Entertainment wristband on her left hand. Also, he had her book inside his jacket, another reason on why he would see her again.

Both to retrieve her book and to have a reason to see her again. Don’t get him wrong, he was actually going to give it to her before she left, but the thought of holding it and having a reason to see her again sounded like great idea. He wanted to see her again, wanted to have a conversation longer than 10 minutes and just wanted to get to know her. She was different, in a good way, absolutely in a good way. The way she seemed to not know him or maybe she did but simply did not care made him feel relaxed, made him feel somewhat normal and he would give anything to feel that way again.

Even if it meant “stealing” her book to have an excuse to see her again.

PART 2

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-Hope y’all enjoyed this first part of the series!! Stay tuned for random updates for ‘Spark Between Us’ I won’t give an announcement on when I’ll update it so keep your eyes peeled on it!!

-Turn on Post Notifications!! 🔔 For more!!

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#jensen Ackles #jensen ackles x ofc #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles imagine #Jensen Ackles smut #smut #Spark Between Us Series #supernatural imagine #supernatural #supernatural smut #dean winchester #Dean Winchester x reader #the boys #the boys tv #the boys imagine #Soldier Boy

92 notes · View notes

legitlaur · 3 years

Text

lightweight // harry styles boxer au pt. 1

boxer!harry x reader

Warnings: language, nsfw content (in future parts), violence

word count: 5k

summary: Harry Styles is a notorious boxer in London. He has been in a funk for a while and can’t stay focused in training or matches. One day he sees you. You change his perspective, and however the universe blesses Harry because he keeps bumping into you.

a/n: this is a disclaimer if anything. All boxing and medical references are sourced from google. I don’t know much about either. But please enjoy some boxer!harry because he is currently my favorite harry

Sweat was dripping down my face, my hair was sticking to my forehead and my head wasn’t in the right mindset. I kept my hands up, I was playing defense this morning.

“Harry!” My coach, Sam, barked but not fast enough.

A gloved fist swung around and smacked me in the face.

I grunted in pain but stood my ground.

“Get over here man.” Sam shook his head in disappointment.

I walked across the ring to the broody man. I rested my arms on the ropes and opened my mouth wide. I was about to get a lecture and I wasn’t in the mood.

Sam took my mouthguard out and started pouring water down my throat. “What’s your problem today? You’re not hitting a single combination, and even on defense you’re getting the shit beaten out of you.”

A lecture.

“I know.” I panted, “I can’t focus today, something is going on. I, I. I just don’t know what.”

“Hmm. Why don’t you take a 15-minute break? Go outside, hopefully, the fresh air will do you good.” Sam untied my gloves and pulled them off.

I ducked under the ropes back onto the carpet of the gym. Even with my back turned to him I knew Sam was shaking his head in disappointment, but I didn’t care. I didn’t have any big fights lined up for the next few months, I was just training for the off-season. He must have noticed there was definitely something going on because he never let me have anything more than a quick water break.

A few people were in the bathroom when I walked in, but they left without saying a word once I made eye contact with them.

They feared me, as they should.

I was Harry Styles, one of the best boxers in London.

Some people liked to call it fear, others liked to call it respect. I didn’t care what it was, so long as I was in the ring winning.

I looked in the mirror of the rusted bathroom. My hair was getting too long, Sam was going to start getting on me to go to the barbers. I took out the little ponytail that rested at the crown of my head, it was coming apart and this was a shit practice anyway. A few curls landed in front of my eyes, I ran my hands through my sweat-soaked hair trying to push it out of my eyes.

“Make yourself worth it!” I repeated to myself.

I stared at my opponent. His hair covering half his face, his eyes had less determination in them. The bruise on his right cheek was finally healing. He looked tired, sad, and weak. Nothing like a champion.

I was staring at myself.

Somehow, I had become my biggest competition. My mindset was all wrong. I didn’t have the motivation and drive I had when I put on my first set of boxing gloves. The spark burned out. Something was missing.

I slapped my face and shook my head. After bouncing around a few times I left the bathroom and went straight to the front door of the building. I could hear the busy London streets before I pushed the door open.

A cool breeze hit my bare chest. I walked a few feet away from the gym to clear my head. I had my hands resting behind my head as I inhaled and exhaled the polluted London air.

I looked around at the people walking past. Most of them were either giving me a weird look because I was walking around shirtless in the street with both hands wrapped. Others knew who I was and were nodding at me.

My head was spinning, I wasn’t sure what was happening. I felt like I was overheating but freezing at the same time. The sounds of traffic were making me panic, I couldn’t get enough oxygen into my lungs. Something was wrong with me.

When my eyes landed on you, it left like the biggest fist to the gut I’d ever taken. The air that I couldn’t inhale was somehow knocked out of me.

You were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen before. When you walked past me, it wasn’t the confusion, fear, or respect that you gave me. No, you gave me pity.

I looked into your eyes and felt peace and passion all at once. There was a mutual understanding of what I was going through. Even if I wasn’t sure what it was. I felt like we were staring into each other’s souls.

I turned around as you walked right past me. Not even giving me a second thought. Why would you?

I tried to keep my eyes on you for as long as possible, but you turned the corner before you could blend into the crowd. I was pretty certain a woman with your beauty and confidence would never blend into a crowd.

I pinched the bridge of my nose when you disappeared. I knew the chances of me seeing you again were slim to none. I never had much luck in my life, except maybe boxing.

You. The bizarre angel sent from heaven above to show me pity.

I didn’t even realize pity was what I needed until you showed it to me. I wasn’t sure how you’d shown it to me, there had been nothing but eye contact.

A dreary man in a suit bumped into me. “Watch where you’re going, man.” He gave me a disgusted look. It was probably deserved after my sweat got all over his blue blazer.

“Sorry," I muttered as I walked back into the gym. Sam was sitting at the front desk with his hand covering his face. He was getting more and more frustrated with me. My practices hadn’t been great recently, and neither of us knew how to fix whatever problem I was clearly having.

I didn’t know what came over me or why the next words came out of my mouth, but I had a feeling I would regret them soon enough.

“Schedule me for a fight.”

Sam's head popped up. His eyes were wide. “What?”

We both knew me getting in the ring for an actual fight right now would end with me in the hospital. I didn’t care, if anything I hoped it would inspire me to find some form of inspiration.

“I want to fight someone! Anyone!” I reiterated as I walked up to my coach.

“Are you sure you wanna do that? We both know you’re not ready for a real fight.” Sam offered.

I wasn’t sure, hell maybe this was suicide. I shrugged, “Why not? I haven’t had a real fight in months and it’s starting to show. The fans are losing interest.”

Sam nodded, “That’s true. Maybe this will get you out of the funk you’ve been in.”

“So you’ll schedule me for something soon?” I was getting a little too eager.

“Yes, but if I don’t think you’re ready for it I’m pulling you out.” He was already on his phone, probably trying to find me a decent opponent that wouldn’t ruin my title.

A week later I was in the locker room of the York Hall. I was getting my hands wrapped in preparation for my match that evening. I could hear the audience through the cinder block walls. Word had spread that Harry Styles was going to be back in the ring tonight. People from all over London were coming to see me fight. I had an audience, now all I needed was to put on a show.

Once Sam gave me a quick pep talk and I was in my gloves I threw on my robe. I waited for my walk-out song to start. It was my cue to head out to the ring.

The song “Death May Die” began, dramatic violin blasted through the speakers I stood up straight and walked out into the arena. The crowd erupted into cheers when they saw me. I kept my stoic face and didn’t interact with the fans at all. It was part of my act. Harry Styles was someone to fear after all.

Once I climbed up into the ring my team took off my robe and tried to get my adrenaline pumping. They pushed my mouthguard up against my teeth and climbed out of the ring.

“In the middle.” The ref called out.

I turned to face my opponent. Jack ‘JawBreaker’ Jones. He walked out to Machine Gun Kelly’s ‘Jawbreaker’ a little too pretentious if you ask me.

He was 6’1 and 150 pounds. His long blonde was tied back into a bun, I wasn’t sure how he managed to have such long hair while boxing. It was nearly impossible for me. I had long hair for a few years, but when I got serious about my boxing career I had to chop it off. Jones was rather tan for a Londoner, and he was chiseled out. From what I’d seen and heard he was a good boxer too. This would be an interesting match.

The plan to win was simple. Sam and I knew I had the better cardio, so we strategized that I would go with defense and tire Jones out. When he started getting too tired to keep trying for the offense I would knock him out.

We made eye contact, tapped gloves, and started the match. There were five rounds, each for three minutes.

Once the bell rang Jones and I started dancing around each other. Waiting to see who would make the first move. I did my best to keep my distance and not let him back me into the ropes. I had a longer wingspan than him, which meant I could be further away and still land a punch.

Finally, Jones threw a punch. I ducked and spun out of the way, keeping myself away from the ropes. He got closer again and jabbed me in the ribs. I fought back, swinging an uppercut to his face, and landing it right on his nose. Blood started dripping down his nose. I knew I didn’t break it, but I’d had a similar injury and I knew his head was pounding right now.

The bell rang through the arena. I finally heard the crowd again, realizing they were there watching. Just as fast as the round started, it ended and I was back in my corner on my stool guzzling water and listening to Sam tell me to go for Jones’ jaw.

Once the break was over, Jones and I were staring into each other’s eyes to start round two. So far he wasn’t wearing down as we anticipated. His cardio was pretty decent. The round started and Jones immediately landed three punches to my side. I groaned in pain but kept standing. I couldn’t let this wanna-be boxer beat me.

I inhaled deeply through my nose, my torso ached as the oxygen reached my lungs. I landed three or four punches to his side and arms, but Jones kept his hands up to guard his face the entire time.

We were in the fourth of five rounds, and I was out of it. I barely made it through the third round. I was up against the ropes getting the shit beat out of me. All I could do was keep my hands up to try and protect my face.

I had a busted-up lip, slip-open eye brown, and definitely a bruised rib. I had to take the defensive side this round. Jones had landed enough blows for the ref to call the match and the judges to easily declare him the winner.

I threw a few here and there as we bounced around the ring, but he was landing just as many punches. Before I knew it, I was back up against the ropes. My eyes were hardly open, I was trying to keep my gloves up but my arms were so tired and sore I couldn’t raise them high enough to keep my face out of the line of fire. My knees were beginning to wobble, I was going to blackout any second.

I turned my head slightly, that’s when I saw you again. In a crowd of hundreds of people, I saw you. Everyone else was a blur, you lit up like a Christmas tree. Your eyes caught my attention like a firework in the middle of a blizzard. You looked frightened but the concern and pity were screaming at me through your dilated pupils.

I don’t know how, but I felt an adrenaline rush kick in. I threw punch after punch right into Jones’s face.

Make yourself worth it!

With my mantra in my head, and you in the crowd I knew I had to finish off ‘Jawbreaker’. I flipped us, he was backed up into the corner against the ropes and I was slamming my gloves into his face, really going hard on his jaw again and again. The ref stepped in and pushed me off Jones.

I gave them a little space while the ref gave him his eight-second stand. When the ref yelled six, Jones fell to the floor. His knees gave out and his head crashed against the mat.

The crowd went wild and started screaming. There were chants of my name and boos from every corner. I went back to Sam, he took out my mouthguard and untied my gloves. Once my hands were free he had me follow a pen with my eyes. It was harder to stay focused on the pen than I cared to admit, but it wasn’t because my head was pounding from the beating I’d endured. It was because you were somewhere in the audience and I had to find you.

I’d won. Even in my darkest months I still had some grit in me. Perhaps it was only because my eyes somehow found yours in my weakest moment, or maybe it was the fighter in me finally resurfacing. The moment I thought I would end up on the mat with a concussion I ended up getting my arm lifted into the air and called a champion.

The title ‘Best Boxer in London’ still rang true.

I ran into the locker room, not bothering with any post-fight interviews or fan interactions. I wanted to get okayed by the paramedics, get showered, and get into the crowd to find you. I had to find you.

My legs were bouncing up and down while the paramedics cleaned up my cuts, and stitched me up. They took a look at my ribs and told me to take it easy for the next few days. My eyes were fine but I did have a gnarly black eye forming on my right eye.

The paramedics finally left, it had taken everything in me to let them take their time with the stitches and checking for a concussion. I flexed my hand muscles and frowned at the light purple bruising on my knuckles. Once I was alone in the locker room I stripped and limped into the shower. The hot water seared against my aching muscles, but I had a feeling this would be the only warm shower I had until I was able to get back into the gym.

Once the water ran clear again and was no longer slightly red, I hopped out of the shower and dried myself in record time. I was dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, and back in the arena before Jones left the ring. He still had doctors looking at him.

The number of people still in the arena dwindled significantly from when I had won. I could only pray that you hadn’t left yet. Maybe with some grace from God, you would be waiting out the traffic of leaving York Hall.

I scrambled through the groups of people congregating together. I couldn’t describe you to anyone, I didn’t know your distinct features. All I knew was that when I saw you, I would know it was you.

I looked and looked, but you were nowhere to be found. I sighed through my nose and dragged my feet back into the locker room to grab my bag.

“Awesome job Harry, I don’t know how you managed to pull through in that last round. I was certain Jones was going to knock you out.” Sam pulled me in for a hug.

I wrapped my arms around him and patted his back then released him. I went to my locker and grabbed my duffle bag. “I had a random burst of energy I guess.” I shrugged and left the room before Sam could ask me any more questions.

I’d won a fight when I was at my weakest. Normally all I wanted to do was go get my earnings and spend most of it at the bar or club to celebrate. Today, I just wanted to find you. I wasn’t sure why you were so important, or why you had such an impact on me, but I needed to find out. I was determined to find out.

I went to the back office where I found myself at the end of every match. The bright lights in there burned my sensitive eyes. Inside the ring, the light was bright but the rest of the arena was pretty dark. I only ever focused on my opponent, the light was never an issue.

“Styles! Congrats man, that was an epic fight.” Jeremy, the owner of York Hall (and also the guy who organized all these matches) greeted me as I opened the office door.

I nodded, “Thanks, Jeremy.”

The tall skinny man stood up from his desk, “You know you brought in quite a fanbase tonight.” He picked up a thick white envelope and handed it to me, “There’s your cut. $1500.”

“$1500? I fucking won man, that fight was worth $2000 easy.” I threw my only good hand up in the air, “I knocked out ‘Jawbreaker’!” I raised my voice but added a sarcastic flare to Jones’ stage name.

Jeremy only shrugged, “I don’t know what to tell you, Harry. The business has been slow lately. Maybe it’s time to find some other way to make money if this isn’t enough for you.”

I grabbed the envelope, stuffed it into my hoodie pocket, and left the office before I did something I would regret.

I was fuming when I went down the stairs. I needed to get out of York Hall. This day had been a complete shit show, and on top of it all, I was getting paid absolutely nothing. Not to mention I had rent due, and Sam was expecting his next paycheck soon. $1500 wasn’t going to cut it.

I huffed as I pushed the doors open and walked out into the dark and muggy London nightlife.

“Took ya long enough.” A voice called out.

“Excuse -” I began to yell but clamped my mouth shut when I turned and saw who spoke. It was you.

You were leaning against the street lamp post on the corner. You were wrapped up in an oversized black trench coat, and your hair fell perfectly at your shoulders.

“Excuse me?” I finished the phrase and started walking closer to you.

“Knocking him out in the fourth round, when you should have knocked him out at the beginning of the third. Your head is out of the game, Lightweight.” You stated matter-of-factly.

“Lightweight? Is that meant to be some kind of insult?” I mused.

You shrugged, “What do you think?”

What did I think?

Only that the universe really thought I deserved something good in my life right now, because I was standing less than a foot away from the girl that had been stuck in my mind since the day I first laid my eyes on you.

I cleared my throat, “Have we met before?” It was a trick question, one you shouldn’t know the answer to. I wasn’t even sure if I knew the answer. We’d never officially met, I’d just been seeing you in my mind over and over again.

“Not officially.” You shook your head. “I’m y/n, y/l/n and I already know who you are. The infamous Harry Styles ‘Best Boxer in London’.” You used finger quotes on the last half of my name.

“What’s with the finger quotes?” I mimicked your actions.

“The best boxer in London should have knocked ‘Jawbreaker’ out in the third round. Not gotten his ass handed to him before a weak knockout at the end of the fourth.” You explained.

My lips formed a thin line, as much as I hated to admit it (even to myself) you were right. Sam worked hard to make sure I was guaranteed a win, but I almost lost.

“How do you know so much about boxing, y/n?” I tried out your name for the first time. It felt good rolling off my tongue. It was a beautiful and eloquent name for a beautiful and graceful woman. Very fitting.

You shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, “I’ve been in the ring here and there.”

You’d boxed.

“I’d love to see you in action sometime,” I smirked.

“I suppose something could be arranged.” You stepped out into the street and lifted your arm in the air. Hailing a taxi. When a small black taxi pulled off and stopped you opened the door. “If we meet again, Lightweight.”

The taxi door slammed after you climbed in. I had a pit in my stomach when I watched the taxi drive off into the night. My initial thoughts were that I’d never see you again, but I’d thought the same the first time I saw you. Then against all odds, I somehow spotted you in the crowd at my weakest moment in the match; and I bumped into you while you were waiting for a taxi. I had a feeling I would see you again when I least expected it.

I didn’t see you again. Not for a long time. The morning after my fight with Jawbreaker every headline read something along the lines of:

JawBreaker gets his Jaw Broken by Harry Styles the Best Boxer in London

Sam called me and was freaking out. Apparently, I broke Jones’ jaw during the knockout. The media went crazy, and I was blowing up on the internet. I took the next two weeks off to recover - doctor's orders.

When I finally was able to go back to the gym Sam had me doing press and interviews instead of training. He kept telling me I had to have a name in the media to have fights to train for. I understood what he meant, but I had become a local celebrity overnight. I couldn’t even go into a local coffee shop without someone asking for a photo or autograph.

I’d come up with the tough scary guy persona to avoid this. I didn’t want to interact with people. I absolutely loved my fans, but most of these people weren’t boxing fans. They saw my knockout on social media somewhere and thought it was cool. They were not real fans, they were the trend followers.

After a month of not being in the gym, I finally had to sit Sam down and tell him he had to start doing what I paid him to do. Train me. He agreed and got me in the gym the next morning.

I spent another few months doing the most intense training of my life. Not to mention I now had a fight every other week. These random guys kept showing up at York Hall telling Jeremy that they could beat me.

They were easy fights, and they kept the cash coming in. I hadn’t had this many zeros in my bank account since I went bankrupt in college. Only this time, there was no negative sign.

I was in the best shape of my life, and my head was finally getting back in the game. I did everything I could to keep myself busy. When I wasn’t busy, I would start to think and get in my own head. That’s how I got to my dark place only months before.

Today I was finishing up my last set of weights before ending my workout with a quick sparking session with one of the gym’s trainers.

Once I put all the weights away properly and wiped the sweat off my neck and hands I went upstairs to the ring. When I got up there I heard a sparring match in progress.

Two women were in the ring. I couldn’t see much of their faces. Only what they were wearing and their skill. The faster and more agile girl wore a black sports bra and matching black shorts. She was able to throw a lot of punches, but the ones she did land were weak.

I started watching her opponent. She wore a white sports bra and lavender shorts. She was stronger and preferred to throw perfect punches. She landed every punch she threw. Overall the two of them were good boxers. I was impressed with what I’d seen.

Sam was a few feet in front of me watching. I closed the distance between us and crossed my arms across my chest. “Who are they?” I asked.

“Hannah Lee, and y/n y/l/n. They’ve been practicing here once or twice a week for a month now. They said it was just a fun workout, but I think with some serious training they could really be something.” Sam explained as he watched the match.

y/n y/l/n. There was no way. I knew you mentioned you’d been in the ring before, but seeing this sparring match. This was different.

“Did you say y/n y/l/n?” I asked as nonchalantly as possible. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but the chances of someone with the exact same name as you sparring in the same gym as me were almost 50/50.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, you know her or something?”

“Not really. We met once, at the ‘Jawbreaker’ match. She called me Lightweight.” I smiled as the memory of you insulting me ran through my head.

“Sounds like y/n.” Sam chuckled.

Did he know you? Had you been right under my nose all these months and I’d been too self-centered to notice? Would you even want to talk to me? Was I worthy of you?

Make yourself worth it!

I reminded myself of my mantra.

Sam and I watched in silence as you and Hannah finished up your session. You ducked under the ropes, someone I didn’t recognize untied your gloves. Once your hands were free you grabbed a water bottle and downed it.

Sam walked up to you and started making a conversion, I stayed by the stairs. There was a pit in my stomach from just thinking about talking to you again. I wasn’t sure how it would go, I didn’t even know what I would say.

“Lightweight.” Your voice could bring me out of trance, but your voice calling me - even if it was that horrible nickname - was enough to end my life.

“Really? You coulda picked any name and you went with that one.” I quickly shook my head in disappointment while trying to keep my cool. I blinked a few times and refocused on reality.

You were standing in front of me, unwrapping your hands. This was the closest I’d been to you in decent lighting. Your eyes were still as electrifying as the last two times I’d stared into them. You had the kind of eyes that made people feel like you were peering into their souls.

Your eyes remained focused on the white tape you were unwrapping as you spoke, “Lightweight suits you,” you shrugged your shoulders.

“Long time no see. Looks like you finally got to see me in action.” You quoted my eager words to watch you in the ring months ago. “I figured I’d be running into you soon enough. This is where you train, no?”

“Yeah, it is.” I wasn’t sure what else to say, I was still stunned that you were here and even more so speechless that you were more than decent at boxing.

Words started tumbling out of my mouth before I could filter them. “When you said you’d been in the ring here and there I didn’t realize you really knew your way around the ring.”

You kept your head down but I could still see the small smile that grew on your face. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy being a hotshot media magnet you would get your ass back in the ring and train with the rookies.”

You’d noticed that I had been properly training in the last little while. Maybe you’d be able to convince Sam that I needed time working on combinations for matches, instead of working in front of cameras for the press.

I threw my hands up in the air dramatically, “You hear that Sam? I need to get back into the ring with the rookies!”

“Cut him some slack, you’re not his only client ya know.” You defended my coach.

“Wait, is- is Sam training you for a match?” I asked with a little too much enthusiasm.

You nodded, “I have a really small one this weekend, if you’re not too busy being ‘the Best Boxer in London’ you should swing by.” You used finger quotes for my title again. “It would be really motivating to have a ‘pro’ there.”

“What is it with you and your finger quotes when it comes to my skill?” I rolled my eyes.

You picked up a small duffle bag from the floor and walked past me towards the stairwell. “Buy me a smoothie and maybe I’ll tell you.”

#harry styles #harry styles fanficton #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #one direction #fanfiction #harry styles boxer #legitlaur #lightweight #harry styles x reader #boxer harry styles x boxer reader #harry styles x y/n

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storiesundercandlelight · 3 years

Text

I Know You - Rafe Adler x Reader - Part One

So this idea kind of came to me randomly, it doesn't follow the story of Uncharted 4/the lives of the characters/specifics but the general story of treasure etc is the same! I changed a lot to make it easier to write a shorter story so...please don't hate me for changing it/pushing parts of the game closer together!

Reader descriptions: I don't describe anything about the reader look wise obviously but I have written this in a female readers POV!

Warnings: None for this chapter!

You walked behind Nate and Sam, following their footsteps as you all moved through the jungle path. The heavily tree covered path helped against the brightness of the sun but did little to keep you from the humid heat. You found yourself regularly swatting away bugs and wiping your brow as you moved forward.

Nate was convinced you were close to your destination, that Libertalia, the famous pirate utopia was just around the next bend. It bloody better be, you thought as you swatted away another bug.

"Nate! Please tell me we're almost there!" Sam cried, chopping away at branches blocking their path.

"Yes, we're almost there I'm sure of it!! Hopefully we'll make it there before Rafe" You tripped a little at the mention of Rafe, you'd been trying hard not to think about encountering them again. God why did Rafe have to do this? Why did he have to break away from you all and go against you? You just kept letting the memories between you flash up as you walked.

_____________________________________________________________

You walked quicker, hoping you weren't going to be late. The campus here was bigger than you thought and your archaeology class was the other side of the building to where you lived in your apartment.

The hallway was quiet as you counted the numbers of the classroom doors before finally landing at the door you needed, taking a breath before you entered. Thankfully your professor wasn't there yet, other students chatting.

"You were almost late" You turned to see Rafe, his cocky smile tugging into place as he looked at you.

"Almost being the key word there" You smiled and grabbed the seat beside him, thankful that no one had snatched it up first. You and Rafe had been friends since the first day of your classes, but you knew other girls wanted to get his attention. You hated admitting it at first but you loved that he only ever gave his attention to you.

"Mmmhmm, yeah you keep on using your almost excuse, what held you up anyway?"

"I woke up late" Rafe snorted a laugh at your reply, turning his full attention to you.

"Give in, it'll be easier on all of us. You know I'm relentless" You sighed and turned to him.

"I was reading"

"For the assingment?"

"Yes" You didn't meet Rafe's eyes, turning away quickly you stayed still as he moved closer to you.

"Liar" He whispered in your ear, you gave him your best side eye in response. "Come on what trashy novel do you have tucked under your bed? You know I'll find it either way. Oh! Let me guess, kind of Indiana Jones-y, but with an oh so steamy encounter between the main characters in some dusty ruin" You rolled your eyes but couldn't hold back you smile, damn him!

"Your wrong....this one is set in Egypt, their steamy encounter took place is a very plush tent near a tomb" Rafe's laugh was infectious, his head falling into his hands as he tried to stop himself from laughing.

"Okay okay whatever" He said between giggles. "Just let me know when you're ready to put those books down and get some real action hmm?" Your professor walked into the lecture hall, grabbing everyone's attention and thankfully pulling Rafe away from noticing you blush.

_____________________________________________________________

You hated thinking of those memories now, knowing you were both on opposite sides, fighting against each other.

"There it is" You came to a halt, almost crashing into Sam as all three of you stared at the scene before you. Libertalia.

The pirate town was in ruins, old building covered in foliage. But the pure sight of it took your breath away. To imagine this place, full of pirates, bustling life, songs and laughter, loot and gambling. Your heart felt full.

"Alright let's get to the treasury" It's higher up towards the mountain.

It took almost two hours of walking, climbing, searching until you finally saw the treasury. Pulling yourself up onto the roof of a crumbling but stable building you took a moment to look at your goal. Was this where the treasure has been all this time?

Nate and Sam were climbing up behind you, you turned ready to continue before stopping. You could hear people talking. All three of you crouched down quickly, your hands automatically going for your gun.

"These fucking guys" Sam whispered. "Well, here we go"

You jumped down from the roof onto a ledge, working your way around half broken walls, stacks of warped barrels, anything to avoid Nadine's and Rafe's men.

"We can get inside without them seeing" Nate whispered.

"They've set up camp!" Sam said back. "We won't be safe camping here too, and the sun's almost down" He was right, the sun was setting fast. You could see the camp they were setting up in the main courtyard of the treasury building, the men moving debris from battles fought many years ago so that they could put up tents.

Your eyes caught movement near the back, towards the entrance. A tent was being put up right near the doors. Rafe stood by as two men secured what you guessed was hit tent, slightly further away from everyone else's.

"Rafe's there" You whispered, your stomach was doing flips knowing that not only was he there, but once again you were face to face on different teams. This whole adventure had felt wrong, always running into them and fighting with the man you knew deep down you loved.

"Alright, we can climb in higher up, set up our own camp in that part of the building there, they won't bother looking there, it isn't the main entrance. Hopefully its just a run down set of rooms"

You'd all agreed, although Sam complained the whole way up to the floor Nate pointed out. He was right though, the space was perfect, hidden, dry, warm anyway from the weather and if you leant near to a broken wall you could see Rafe's camp.

It didn't take long for Sam and Nate to fall asleep, the two brothers sprawled on the ground, packs behind their heads as pillows. But you couldn't sleep, not when Rafe was this close, you charted a way down to his tent, planning which route you would take to avoid the men on watch. It was risky but you knew Rafe wouldn't be sharing a tent and his tent was far enough from the rest that you'd be able to talk to him, maybe convince him that he didn't need to fight against you. Maybe if you could get close he would... be the old Rafe.

Taking a deep breath you got up as silently as possible and made your way down. Thoughts of what you would say to Rafe raced through your mind. Would he want to see you? Would he just take you and use you as bait? No, you refused to believe that, he'd told you once how he felt, that can't have just vanished. The memory of that night was still so clear to you.

_____________________________________________________________

"Okay okay, so Chinese?" Rafe dropped down onto your couch, looking at you impatiently.

"Fine" You smiled, knowing that if you changed your mind again Rafe may just cry from hunger.

"Finally!" Rafe pulled out his phone to order as you looked over your notes. You had to admit, you worked well as a team. Your assignments already finished and onto the proofing stage. "The horror...it won't be here for 40 minutes"

You turned to Rafe who had flopped back dramatically against the back of the couch. "Poor baby, to think you have to wait 40 minutes for someone else to cook you food"

"Don't mock me, my hunger is very real" He leant back up, pushing himself nearer to you on the couch and leaning over to look at the notes himself. You should be used to Rafe being this close to you, he was always close. Most people assumed you were a couple because of how close you were and how much time you spent together. But you couldn't stop the blush and heat that ran through you whenever he moved close. You looked over his face, his brows tilted down as he focused on the words, his hair usually neatly slicked back had rogue hairs falling down over his forehead.

God he was attractive. Your eyes went lower, to his arms, his muscles poking out from his t-shirt that really left nothing to the imagination.

"Admiring my fashion choices?" You jumped and your eyes snapped back up to Rafe who was looking at you, a smirk plastered on his face.

"No! I was...I..."

"You...?" He was so close, if you moved your head forward just a little your noses would brush against each other. You could smell his cologne, a musky woody scent that you loved. He didn't move away, his eyes flicking from yours to you lips.

He moved too quickly for you to think, suddenly his lips were on yours, pushing gently. You didn't need to think twice before reacting a melting into the kiss, your hands coming up to touch his neck, pulling him closer. His arms moved around you, a hand resting on your side as he moved into you, pushing you against the arm of the couch. There was no where for you to move and you were so okay with that.

The kiss grew hotter, more needy, hands were everywhere, pulling and pushing. Your fingers ran through his hair, messing it up even more. A faint moan escaped his lips when you tugged it slightly. You both pulled apart, but still close, Rafe rested his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath a little.

Rafe smiled and huffed out a laugh. "I've wanted to do that for so long"

"You have?"

"I thought I'd made my feelings pretty obvious" He quickly kissed you again. "You have completely ruined me, I don't think I'll ever be able to love anyone else"

_____________________________________________________________

You were still caught up in old memories by the time your feet lightly touched the ground behind Rafe's tent. You stayed in the shadows listening, wanting to make sure he was alone. A few moments passed before you decided it was safe and made your way to the flaps, they were tied closed but you made quick and silent work of undoing just enough of them to squeeze in.

The tent was dark, you had to wait for your eyes to adjust fully before moving and looking around. The tent was simple, Rafe's belongings piled in one corner, an empty cot in the other. Empty.

You stood still, heart racing as you realized the cot was empty. You tried to move but suddenly a hand wrapped around your mouth, your legs knock from under you. Your back hit the ground with a thud and you felt a knife pressed against you. Rafe leaned over you.

#rafe adler #rafe adler x reader #uncharted 4 #uncharted fanfiction #uncharted fanfic #uc4

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