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renegadesfics · 2 years

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𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈'𝐦 𝐒𝐨 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐂𝐡. 𝟏: 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Growing up doesn't look anything like Nancy Wheeler had thought it would. Or, the one where Nancy and Robin go to Emerson College together and find a few unexpected things along the way. A story of Ronance, romance, and finding yourself when you're not sure where you got lost. [ 4.7k words ]

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Non-Canon Compliant, Slow Burn, Recreational Drug (Weed) Use, Trauma, Dealing with Trauma, Therapy, Nancy is just trying to move on, WLW Nancy Wheeler, Sexuality Crisis, I mean not really a crisis but y’know, Figuring out who you are and shit, Identity, The Wheeler siblings are dysfunctional but they love each other, Friends to Lovers, I think that’s it but if you see anything else pls just let me know and I’ll add it!!

𝐀𝐎𝟑

After saving the world once a year since the age of fifteen, college seems like chump change in comparison. Objectively, that is, semester finals can’t have anything on the Demogorgon, on the Mind Flayer, on staring down Vecna with a sawed-off shotgun. And as painfully mundane as it might be, college is the stepping stone. The jumping off point. The Get Out of Jail Free card to a life where Nancy doesn’t have to think anymore about the fact that she committed felonies at seventeen just to stay alive. Where no one else has to think about it, either.

None of it matters, though, not now. Not when Nancy succeeds in graduating, skirting past disaster in the ruined remnants of Hawkins in her senior year and charging head-first into the bright and shining destiny she’s been waiting for since the ripe age of fourteen.

Emerson College.

Freedom.

Life outside of the cul-de-sac and 2.5 kids and white picket fence.

Not that there was much left of Hawkins to consider idyllic these days, with less than a year under their belts to recover from the damage. Some wounds, she thinks, will never heal. Nancy is, perhaps obstinately so, determined to make sure that she does not share that fate.

There is, of course, the matter of her government mandated therapy to work out. It’s not as if they can very well tell her not to go to college–or, well, they could try, but Nancy’s got a sneaking suspicion that Dr. Owens warned them off of any such bullshit–and they refuse to let her (or any of them, really, who have spent the last few years running in and out of a real life hellscape) go without her weekly sessions. So they find a compromise.

The compromise is named Dr. Sylvia Madden, she’s in her Boston office on Thursdays and Fridays, and she’s more than happy to take Nancy on as a client. Robin, as it turns out, has the same problem. And by default, the same solution. Nancy will see Dr. Madden for an hour on Thursday afternoons. Robin will see her Friday mornings. When Owens tells them this, he looks like he half expects them to be excited about it, like sharing a therapist makes them closer in some way. It notably doesn’t, at least not any more than the Upside Down did, and they instead exchange a look of raised brows and little else.

In some ways, it’s probably nice that Robin will be around. Determined as she is to go to Emerson come hell or high water, there’s a sort of security in knowing she won’t be the only Hawkins kid on campus. It’s not impossible to think that maybe they can hang out sometimes and talk about the shitty old days or whatever.

In other ways, it feels like Hawkins is following her like a ghost.

Objectively, that’s less about Robin and more about Nancy. She doesn’t need a therapist to tell her that.

She resents it a bit all the same.

Graduation gives way to summer, which is all about recovery and community and finding stable ground under foot again. It’s a hurried few months comprised of movie marathons at Steve’s and trips to the pool where they all have new scars to hide and making sure that what’s left of their group will stay together, stay sane, stay stable in the aftermath of hell incarnate. Turns out that sometimes peace is harder to live through than war. It’s a strange thing to be aware of, even stranger to talk about. The kids are included in a lot of their plans simply by the fact that they’ve sort of earned their keep so to speak, not to mention Eddie and Steve shepherd them around like mother hens, but the late nights are for the graduates.

Nancy doesn’t count how many nights the six of them spend under the stars with a joint passed between lazy hands, talking about anything and everything that comes to mind. She doesn’t have to. Nights like these are numbered and they always have been. This is the unspoken truth of the summer of 1986: August will come and the girls will leave for Boston and nothing will be like it was. Nancy is, in some ways, grateful for that. But she doesn’t say that either.

She doesn’t say a lot of things.

Summer bleeds easily into August, sticky and bittersweet, and this is where things start to get complicated. August 1st, Nancy spends her last night at the Byers-Hopper house. (“Will you come over tonight?”) Things with Jonathan end quietly, vastly mutually, and without any serious room for hurt. They still love each other of course, and maybe they always will, but not like before. (“I just think it’ll be easier, y’know? And we could both do with something easy these days.”) Luckily, they don’t linger on it: the conversation is had until it’s done and there’s no rehashing of previous issues or poking at old wounds. For the first time in months, they fully understand each other. (“And I’ll still–” “I know.”) Falling asleep together for the last time is strangely comforting, and when Nancy leaves in the morning, it doesn’t feel strange. Joyce sends her home with a boatload of pancakes and El gives her a hug just before she makes it out the door. (“You look pretty today.”) Nancy doesn’t set foot in the house again before she leaves.

One string cut.

August 3rd, she’s carting the kids to Steve’s. Robin’s in her passenger seat–not technically a kid, but unable to drive herself and on the way from Dustin’s so why the hell not, right–and the rest are all crammed into the back and talking a bit louder than Nancy would prefer. She could shush them, of course, or ask them to take it down a bit. Max and El would listen, surely, and Dustin would at least try but Mike would bitch and inevitably the car would get loud all over again like she’d never asked in the first place. So if she’s white-knuckling the steering wheel a bit as a result, who can blame her, really? Certainly not the kids, who are too wrapped up in their own shit to notice the tension in her body. Robin, however, is a different story.

“If that thing breathed,” she offers with a wobbly smile, “it wouldn’t be doing it for long.”

“What?” Dark eyes dart over for a moment to her passenger seat and the person filling it out, brows furrowed with confusion.

“The steering wheel.” Robin points to it, other hand gesturing helplessly. She hurries along in her explanation. “I’m not saying it’s bad or anything, just–I mean–you look like you’re trying to squeeze it to death like a constrictor, so like, if it was breathing y’know, it wouldn’t be for much longer.”

Nancy blinks. Loosens her grip on the steering wheel, finger by finger. Frees one hand entirely to push a strand of hair behind her ear. “Um. Sure.”

“I didn’t–” The other girl stops, fingers moving nervously in her lap. “I guess what I mean to say is… are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” This is a conversation she’s more equipped to handle. Fending off this particular question has become as easy as breathing. Lying, an instinctive part of her day. The list of things Nancy Wheeler does not say only grows longer, aided by a strategy so familiar it might as well be her second skin. In some ways, it is. Evaluate. Answer. Redirect. “Are you packed yet?”

Robin laughs, the sound equal parts nervous and amused, like Nancy should know better. Should she know better? Maybe. She lets the sound hook into the corners of her mouth and tug them up until she’s smiling, glancing at Robin again and thinking for a fraction of a second that maybe, just fucking maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to see her around campus sometimes.

“I take it that’s a no.”

Giggles fading, the other girl shakes her head. “Nope. Not even a little.” There’s a beat as she slumps further into the seat, knees pressed to the dashboard. “But you are, right? Everything but the essentials?”

Is she really so transparent?

“Yes.”

“How much is it?” The question feels loaded. Though if it is, it’s only because Nancy filled the chamber with rounds when Robin wasn’t looking. And then placed it in her lap and offered to play Russian Roulette.

I’ll go first.

“Not that much, really.” Not even enough to fill up the back of her car. There aren’t many things in Hawkins that feel worth taking, additional weight to her ball and chain.

It feels cold to think this way, sharp as a blade ready to rip into the softest parts of the people she loves most. It’s not that she means to be a weapon, to stab and to hurt, but when her whole life is an amalgamation of other people’s nerve-endings, there’s bound to be some pain. She just wishes it could be hers and not theirs, because Nancy? Nancy is numb.

Except when she’s not.

“--Nancy?”

She’s lucky to come to then, two driveways down from the Harrington’s. Robin’s looking at her like she wants to say something, like she’s all but choking on it. Perhaps luckily, it’s about then that the kids realize how close they are and suddenly the noise swells to a crescendo of excited tittering. None of them see the tension in Nancy’s shoulders, the thousand yard stare she’s sending through the windshield, no one except the girl in the passenger’s seat, who seems hostage to her own social awkwardness, unsure of what to say.

She pulls up to the driveway, not down it like she’d originally planned, and the car lurches to a stop. The gaggle of teenagers pay no attention, clambering out with towels and laughter, leaving a vacuum of sound in their wake. Robin hesitates, just a fraction of a second, fingers around the door handle. “I–”

Nancy doesn’t look at her.

The list grows ever longer.

“Thanks for the ride,” she finishes lamely and slips out, closing the door solidly behind her.

Nancy makes it to Mirkwood before the pounding in her head gets to be too much.

August 6th is Nancy’s tenth appointment with Dr. Madden and the last one before she leaves for Boston. It starts as these sessions always do, with Nancy on the couch opposite her therapist’s brown leather chair, fielding off the entry-level questions without much thought.

“How are you?” Fine, nothing’s all that different than it was, really. Well, except things that are obviously different, but even that’s becoming normal these days. She doesn’t elaborate. Dr. Madden doesn’t ask her to. It’s routine.

“How’s your week been?” Also fine. Packing has been done for weeks and they’ve already discussed it a few times, with Dr. Madden endlessly needling at the fact that there’s something behind Nancy’s endless vigilance and logic that may go deeper than just the Upside Down. But if Dr. Madden’s comments are a needle, Nancy is a haystack, and losing track of their sharp points inside the mess of her own head is easier than she might like to admit. Until she accidentally stabs herself on one.

“How’s the family?” Maladjusted, though she doesn’t use that word specifically. Nancy settles on difficult, like that really explains anything, like she didn’t spill infinitely more information to Jonathan within less than a week of knowing him. Her mother’s teary eyed a few times a day at the idea of her departure, though she pretends not to be. Holly is vastly oblivious to what’s going on, but she’s made doubly sure to kiss Nancy on the cheek before going to bed for the last few weeks. Mike is as annoying as he’s ever been, but she’s heard his footfalls stop outside her door four out of the last six nights, like he’s got something he wants to say to her and her alone but can’t seem to make himself do it. And her father… well, her father is as detached and absent as always.

“Some things just don’t change, I guess.”

“And how do you feel about that?” Dr. Madden is young compared to her compatriots, in maybe her mid to late 30’s with dark hair that’s been carefully pulled back from her face. Eyes brown like the bark of a tree, sharp like the splinters that Nancy used to get from running her fingers along trunks as she ran past. There’s something mildly intimidating about her vastly impassive nature, expression perpetually hard to read, a middle finger to her client’s otherwise pervasive ability to read people.

The eldest Wheeler child gives her a sharp look, lips turned just slightly down in a frown, brows slanted in annoyance. If she were Mike, she’d cross her arms over her chest and stare back, throwing a hissy fit with the set of her lips like he does when he gets agitated. (Dr. Raleigh, she imagines, gets that a lot. Not that the Wheeler siblings discuss their therapy sessions. Or much of anything, really.) But she’s not, so instead she sits with her hands splayed across her lap, defiant in her silence.

“How do you feel about it?” She asks again, another needle dropped. This one glints just a little, barely lost in the mess of hay just yet.

The hour could drag on like this: it has before. Pointed questions and pointier silence. A half-silent war of wills. “Which part?”

“Any of it.” This is where Dr. Madden concedes, gives Nancy room to talk about whatever’s under her skin. She sees it for what it is, an extended hand, an olive branch, the gift of choice rather than being railroaded into a specific topic.

Appreciated as the gesture may be, Nancy’s not sure she wants it.

She could change topics here. It would be so, so easy. They’re at a crossroads, really, and she’s just been offered the opportunity to pick their next direction. She could tell her about the breakdown on Mirkwood. About breaking up with Jonathan and how it feels like a weight off her shoulders. About how driving the kids to Steve’s feels like both the best and worst possible thing she could have done with a Sunday afternoon.

She could tell her about Robin.

Careful fingers pick at the edges of the soft pink lacquer on Nancy’s nails, chipping away at its otherwise seamless exterior. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere if she were in the mood to go digging for it, but she’s not, and she’s just self-aware enough to be annoyed by it. Flexing her fingers, she sets them a few inches apart on her thighs.

Remembers loosening her grip on the white-knuckled steering wheel, all but choking as the memory surges forward. Pretty blue pools of curiosity peering at her from the driver’s seat, across the console, just barely peeking around mousy blonde hair.

“Nancy?”

“I don’t know,” she says finally, quieter than she means to, voice strained by all the things she could be saying but isn’t.

Dr. Madden doesn’t look convinced.

She doesn’t have to.

The half-silent war picks up once again.

August 8th is Nancy’s last day in Hawkins. The morning is spent at the kitchen table with her mother, once again going over the route she’ll be driving from Hawkins to Boston until she can recite all of the turns and exchanges from memory. They talk details next: what time she’s getting up, what time she’s leaving, when she should be hitting Cleveland. It’s her job, of course, to remind her mother that she’s not driving to Boston alone. That she’ll be driving Robin up there, too, and that they’re both plenty capable adults. Legally, at least. Whether or not this soothes her mother is frankly difficult to tell, but there are fewer metaphorical shoving matches afterwards.

A win in her book, certainly.

The afternoon is spent loading what she can into the station wagon. Mike is conscripted into helping at the protest of both of the involved Wheeler kids, but with his help it takes less than half an hour to get all the boxes down and in place.

“This is it?” His brows are furrowed, forehead creased with disbelief. Gangly arms are folded across his chest, head tilting down as he looks at his sister. At this point, Nancy’s not completely unconvinced that his face is stuck that way. “You’re leaving for college and you’re bringing four boxes and a suitcase?”

“Mhmm.” As she hums the affirmative, he looks even more confused, the line of his mouth wrinkling unevenly.

“What about the rest of your stuff?”

“What about it?”

Mike gives her a look like he can’t believe her, like he shouldn’t have to elaborate because the answer is clearer than the cloudless sky above them. It’s not a look she’s unfamiliar with, or even one that grates on her nerves anymore, but she does tap her foot a little impatiently as she waits for him to choose words. Finally, he blusters, “What’s going to happen to it? There’s at least six more boxes in your room.”

“The ones labeled with blue marker are getting saved for when Holly’s older, the ones with red marker are donate boxes, the black markered ones are going into the basement, and the unlabeled ones…” A shrug pulls at her shoulders, the implication of no label fairly obvious in her mind.

“Trash?” He supplies, like he needs everything labeled for his own sanity.

She nods.

He nods too, quiet for a moment as his eyes trail to the back of the station wagon again. Four boxes and a suitcase. Barely anything at all. “Okay,” Mike says finally, uncrossing his arms from his chest as he takes a step back. “Well I guess you don’t need my help anymore.”

“You’re free.”

“Cool.” It seems like he takes the length of the driveway a bit slower than he would usually and a pang of something cold and familiar spears its way through Nancy’s chest. Does he want her to stop him? To ask him to stay, make up an excuse to need further help? Is there something he needs to say? How would she even go about starting that conversation?

Before she can figure it out, her brother makes it to the door and steps inside.

Her evening is also taken up with plans, a fact that leaves her mother mildly offended like it’s a personal slight. It’s not as much as it is, but only in the way that the Wheeler family sort of always exists. Nancy would rather sit around the Harrington’s pool with her friends (no need to unpack that one just yet) than a dinner table or TV with her family. It’s been this way for years.

She used to think it was a teenager thing. Now she thinks maybe it’s just a Wheeler thing.

Regardless, she’s at Steve’s that Friday night, perched at the edge of the pool with her skirt rucked up to her thighs and legs in the water. Robin, Steve, and Eddie are in the pool proper, splashing around and dunking each other under. The teams–though there weren’t any officially assigned that Nancy’s aware of–change moment by moment and she can’t quite figure out the logic of the switches. One second, Steve and Robin are tag-teaming the attempt to dunk Eddie under the clear chlorine water, the next Robin and Eddie are out to ruin Steve’s half-dried hairdo. It’s amusing, to say the least.

Argyle’s mysteriously missing for the night, and his absence is felt infinitely more than she would have anticipated when she met him. Jonathan, though, is plenty present and settles himself down beside her with a lit joint in hand. He offers it to her wordlessly, without even really looking at her, and Nancy takes it the same way. She has no intentions of getting truly high tonight, but a little something to take the edge off doesn’t hurt.

These days, it feels like Nancy is all edges.

“You’ve got your thinking face on.” He’s not looking at her as he says it, either, eyes moving somewhere between the horizon and their rough-housing friends.

Nancy doesn’t respond verbally, just leans into him as she passes the joint back, still breathing out the last of her hit as her head falls onto his shoulder. For a while, they exist like that. Jonathan doesn’t press further and Nancy appreciates it almost as much as the fact that not a single person has made a point of acting like tomorrow’s the day everything changes. It is, of course, and she’s ready for that change personally, but it’s nice to exist somewhere that doesn’t require her to articulate it.

“Will’s worried about Mike.” He offers it after a long stretch of quiet, rearranging the set of his shoulders as he talks. The joint sits between his fingers and almost against his leg, lit but only just. “He doesn’t say it, you know, but I can tell. El too, I think.”

Her response comes slow, lips intentional in forming every word. “Why?”

When Jonathan sighs, it’s not personal. Nancy knows better than to take it that way. “You’re the only other person in the family that knows what really happened. I know you two aren’t… close or whatever, but at least you’ve got that. And with…” He gestures broadly at the space around them, too acutely aware of her general mood to put it into words. “Mike’ll be alone in the house. Y’know?”

Fifteen hours and some change away. Just over 900 miles.

Nancy thinks of the way Mike stopped just outside her door last night, quiet except for his breathing, and that stab of cold through her chest digs in again. She thinks of the way he took the driveway so slowly in the afternoon sun instead of racing inside to do god-knows-what in the basement. She thinks about the little kid he used to be and the person he’s become.

She thinks about the fact that Robin will be at Emerson. That they’re in the same residence building, only two floors apart. That if push really came to shove, if things got really and truly bad, she could make it down two flights of stairs. She could knock on Robin’s door. She could get help.

Mike has been two doors down for all but a few years of her life.

Nancy’s been two doors down for the entirety of his. More importantly, for the last three years.

“Oh.”

Her chest tightens. Whether it’s luck or his intuition, Jonathan passes the barely-lit purple palm tree delight back to Nancy before he says anything else. She takes a greedy inhale to steady her ever-growing nerves and he tips his cheek against the top of her head. “He’ll have the rest of us though, and my mom and Hopper. It’s not like he’ll be unsupported or anything. Just… it’ll be different, and I thought you should know.”

The selfish part of her wishes he hadn’t thought it, or at least hadn’t said it, but Nancy doesn’t tell him that.

“Sure.” A beat of quiet and then, softly: “Thanks.”

The rest of the evening is frighteningly uneventful in comparison. Steve, Eddie, and Robin get out of the pool eventually though they look like drowned, pruney rats by that time. More smoking is done and three pizzas are eaten between the five of them. It’s safe to say that Eddie eats almost a whole one on his own. And though she staves off the moment for as long as she can, the last few pushes extended when Robin starts to look a little peaky, fiddling and bouncing her legs more, the time comes for Nancy to head home. The peace breaks there, shattered as expressions all around shift at the end of her declaration.

“You sure?” Steve asks, voice almost gentle as he does. It doesn’t feel like he’s asking if she’s sure she wants to leave for the night.

She is, she is, she is.

Something still lodges in her throat. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Like he spoke the magic word, gave them all permission, the rest of the group slowly starts to get up from their chairs. She wants to tell them to stop, to not make a big deal out of this when it doesn’t have to be, but the words don’t come out.

“Gonna miss your face around here, Wheeler,” Eddie says first. “Don’t be a stranger and all that shit. If I hear you’re in town from little Wheeler without any heads up, I’ll start to think you’re avoiding us.”

Nancy snorts, if only because calling Mike “little Wheeler” seems a bit silly. “If you hear I’m in town from my brother, I am avoiding you.”

They don’t hug.

Steve goes in for one, though, and Nancy can’t bring herself to deny him of it. His arms are tight and strong around her waist, face turned just slightly into her shoulder, squeezing like he’s afraid she’s going to disappear when he lets go.

In some ways, he’s right.

“Fifteen hours isn’t so bad,” she whispers in his ear and pretends not to notice when his returning laugh is wet with tears. Louder, as she pulls back, “I’ll be back for the holidays and you shitheads better not have replaced me by then.”

“Us,” Robin corrects haltingly.

Oh. Right. “Us.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Eddie supplies when Steve says nothing. There’s something in both of their faces that she can’t read. That’s new.

Jonathan steps into her space, gives her arm a squeeze. “Go show the Post what a real reporter looks like.”

They’ve already said their goodbyes, what there is to be said of them anyway, so he leaves it at that. Nancy nods appreciatively.

Robin is looking at her like she was in the car, eyes burning with things she isn’t saying. It’s hard to know if it’s because they have an audience or she’s too awkward to say them or whatever else it might be. Nancy doesn’t pry. Instead she murmurs, “See you in the morning.”

The other girl nods, gives her a two-fingered salute that only vaguely gives away her shaking hands. “Aye aye Cap’n.”

And that’s that.

The porch lights are on when she gets home: the only indicator in an otherwise dark house that there’s still one member of the family missing. Nancy flips them off as she steps in, halfway wondering if they’ll be on tomorrow night when she’s no longer home. If this is how her parents will show the world that she’s gone off to college.

It’s a ridiculous thing to think or to hope for so she shakes it off as she makes her way up the stairs in the dark. The cracks under Holly and their parents’ doors are pitch-black with shadow, proof that they’re sleeping if there ever was any. Almost without thinking, she cranes her neck to catch sight of Mike’s.

Two doors down, there’s a light still on.

He’s awake.

Mike’ll be alone in the house. Y’know?

“Shit.” Nancy curses under her breath, staring at the pool of bright fluorescence leaking out from under his door. It’s almost midnight. If Mike even lets her in, which isn’t a guarantee, that’ll steal more precious time from her drifting off to sleep.

There has to be a compromise. Life is all about fucking compromise, right?

She stands there on the top step for another moment longer before pushing into her room. Inside, she snatches up a pen and pulls a page from one of her less full notebooks from high school. The note is folded in half, his name written on the top, and slid under the crack in his door. She doesn’t wait to see if he notices it, if he opens it, if he acknowledges it.

Call me if you need me. Any time, any day. - N

Bed comes shortly after, the hazy effects of purple palm tree delight fading as she slips between lightweight sheets. There’s no cold stab of guilt in her chest when it’s fully gone, but the tightness from before still exists.

When she sleeps, Nancy dreams of falling.

And that’s Chapter One of When I’m So See Through! Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! At this point, I don’t have a consistent uploading schedule and honestly might never. I do, however, have the beginnings of a playlist for this fic, and song recs are always appreciated!

Tag list: @reysorigins . If you’d like to be added, just shoot me a message!

#caro fics #ronance #when i'm so see through #ronance fic #stranger things fanfiction #ronance fanfiction #nancy wheeler x robin buckley #robin buckley x nancy wheeler

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zeldas-cigarrette · 3 years

Text

⊱┊𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬. ↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃

— pairing; ⚢donna sheridan x fem!reader

— word count; 3.3k

— summary; Sophie organised an afternoon of speed dating for her mother. You happened to be a customer at the certain restaurant it took place, and it seemed as if Donna was more interested in you than in all the guys that came for her. (lots of fluff because I can’t bring myself to write smut atm. ) xx

— fluff 🍰₊˚.༄ ೃ -

—❥ author’s note; My obsession with Meryl Streep keeps me sane during all those exams I have atm… Again, I’m so sorry for not posting my requests but I tried finishing them all but when I read them again they were so insanely bad, I can’t upload them… I will rewrite them probably next weekend (if I have enough time). But thanks for sticking around although I’m not as active (which will change in a few weeks, when I’ve finished my finals).

..⃗.🕊•̩̩͙⁺⤾·˚ ༘ ◡̈ ꒰ 🥥 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ ✧˖*°࿐

🏷 tag list; @paulawand , @pearplate

The sun was already burning down when Donna found out about her daughter's plans for the afternoon. Apparently, Sophie decided to host a speed dating for her mother in some restaurant on the island. She wasn’t interested in the first place but for the sake of her daughter, Donna decided to give it a try - maybe she’ll find the love of her life? It wasn’t until both mother and daughter arrived at the chosen restaurant when the older woman started worrying about what’s to come behind those doors. The few birds that gathered on the windowsill started chirping as if they were trying to warn her, „don’t go in!” but it seemed too late for that. „I don’t know if this is the right thing Soph,” Donna lurked through the window, seeing a couple of older guys waiting eagerly for someone to entertain them. „It’s gonna be fun Mum, just let it happen,” and with the huge smile spread over the young girl's face, she pushed the door open. Quickly the smell of food surrounded both women.

Only a couple of women were interested in dating as well, everyone was already sat on separate tables only waiting for the main host to start the thing. On the first look, none of these men caught her eye, none of them looked attractive. However, who was she to judge? Said and done, Donna took a seat opposite of a man with full fair hair and glasses. The two minutes started in which they were supposed to get to know each other.

You were sat in the corner of the restaurant, observing the show you were offered from afar. The people, including the owner, were making a fuss about the speed dating someone had arranged. You had moved to the island just a couple of months ago and though such things as speed dating were a pretty common thing in England, it seemed to be hardly a thing around here. Chewing on a shrimp, you wanted to hold back the laughter when you saw the angelic-looking woman’s face when one of the guys seemingly told her an interesting fact about him. She didn’t look very happy with the selection of men. Luckily you had an amazing view of the ocean and you could watch the sun gleaming on the water.

For every passing minute, Donna regretted the decision she made. The first guy was as dull as his name, Tom had 15 cats. He told her a story of when a few of his cats got sick and vomited in his flat. It was a full-on ramble for two minutes not letting his opponent get to word for once. Donna wasn’t sure if she had control of her face, but if she wasn’t at least the guy knew how horrible he was. The next one - didn’t even introduce himself - was shy. So shy that he only stared down on his fingers. Therefore when Donna made the first move and told him a little about her life, he could only nod and blankly stare a hole into the hotel owner.

Sunken in a daydream, you scribbled something in your notebook hoping the words would turn into poems. When you first came to the island you had hoped to overcome the ongoing writer's block, but until now not even the alluring landscape could change that. It ever so often occurred that your eyes landed on the woman with the golden locks not sure if it’s because of how dissatisfied she looked or if it’s her that captured you. Often you came to this restaurant to get the words flowing or to talk to the owners. They have been welcoming from the first moment, so you decided to go there again and again until it became the only restaurant you’d go to.

Meanwhile, Donna was meeting the fourth guy that wanted to meet her. It seemed to be a better start than the rest of the guys, he wasn’t perfect but neither was he as self-centered as the ones before. Their conversation was good until he dropped the 'women belong in the kitchen’ bomb. It ruined everything for her. „Alright people, we’re gonna take a short break so everyone can let the impressions sink in,” Sophie quickly interrupted when she saw how uncomfortable her mother felt. Each of the participants got up and walked out on the terrace or ordered drinks from the bar. Donna scoffed and buried her head in her hands. „This is awful,” it was only a whisper but audible to her daughter. „I’m sorry, I really thought that you’re gonna have fun,” the girl replied. Without another word the woman got up and wanted to walk a few steps to stretch the tense muscles in her leg when she spotted you sitting in the corner of the room.

She took small steps to reach your table, she was curious about what you were doing there all alone scribbling in your notebook. At first, you didn’t notice her coming towards you, but when you did she seemed as if a halo would enlighten her. The notebook was closed in an instant when you realized that you were the aim she was about to reach. „Hi” you greeted her with a wide smile. „Hello, I noticed you sitting all alone,” it was obvious that Donna searched for an opportunity to escape the dating hell her daughter had organised. You saw in how deep of misery the woman was. „Would you like to sit with me for a while?” you requested and pointed at the chair opposite of you. The noise in the overfilled restaurant was deafening so the blonde woman didn’t bother using words and just pulled out a chair. „You don’t know in how many ways you just saved me,” she smirked and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. You blushed but tried to hide it while leaning your face in both of your hands.

„I saw you’ve been busy over there, isn’t speed dating fun?” you teased not knowing if it was alright to overstep this line. „They’re all abhorrently boring and irritating,” the woman huffed and throws a disapproving look at the crowd of men. You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, you’ve never had the problem with weird men. „I’m Y/n by the way,” you reached out your hand which she gladly shook. „Nice to meet you, my name’s Donna.” Even her name sounded angelic. The woman’s company brought you joy and even ideas for new poems came to your mind. „You could stay here until it’s over, I don’t mind,” you suggested avoiding eye contact, fearing rejection. „I’d love to,” it sounded like heaven to you. Therefore she stayed and every time you looked at her, you hated to avert your gaze the next second. Although Donna seemed to enjoy herself, the men on the other side of the room looked as if they were disappointed that she left. „One of their cats vomited in their flat,” she told you rolling her eyes. „Aww, I love cats but without the vomiting,” you giggled and tried to find out who it was by just scanning them. „It’s the blond one,” she pointed at a tall, skinny guy. „Oh yes, he absolutely looks like a cat guy,” you remarked dryly not averting your gaze from the giraffe-like man.

Sophie saw her mother sitting with you, smiling and giggling sometimes. She didn’t dare to make her comeback and go through another round.

„Would you like something to eat while you’re waiting for this to be over?” you asked shyly. „Actually, yes! I’ve been starving since we’ve come here and the conversations I’ve had didn’t make it go away,” Donna explained and bit down her lip. You waved for Elias, a waiter, for her to order. You’ve been exploring the island with him a couple of times and learned that he would rather like to work on the mainland as a teacher than work at his parent's restaurant. The food was served in less than ten minutes and she hummed while eating. „This has to be the best one I’ve eaten yet,” Donna declared while putting the cutlery on her plate.

Donna admired you for your kindness of letting her stay with you, she was lost in the eyes of yours and how your y/h/c hair was blown from the wind from time to time. The opened window offered her a marvellous view on the deep blue ocean. She felt safe in your company and the stories you’d told her about your future plans captured her. „Then why have you decided to come to Kalokairi when you plan on becoming a writer?” the older woman curiously asked. „Well, I had a very severe writers block and wanted to be surrounded by nature and I’ve a lot about this place in tourist guides so I decided to come here to get my writing flowing,” you explained. „Oh I’m sorry, I hope you’ve overcome it by now.” „I think I just did,” you cheekily replied. Unknowingly that your time was up by now, Sophie strutted over to the both of you.

„Mum, I’m sorry to interrupt but we’re done,” the young girl smiled while looking at you. „I’d really like to do this again,” Donna circled with her finger on the table, „I’ll just give you my address and you can come over some time.” Donna scribbled something on a napkin and handed it to you. You tried to hide the huge smile that was about to form on your lips. „Thanks, I’d also love to repeat this,” your whisper was barely audible. Donna just winked before leaving with her daughter, she was gone and left you with butterflies in your stomach. That day you’re writers block seemed to be gone and you were finally able to bring some words on paper.

»As I sat and looked at her and the rolling hills she sat upon I thought, what amazing luck I have that the world had created such beautiful things and given me the eyes to see them.« *

At first, you’ve been too afraid to drop that little poem off at her house, but when you gathered enough courage you just went for it. It was only when you arrived that you realised she was managing a hotel. You quickly dropped it off with your phone number written on it, not brave enough to give it to her in person. The following hours consisted of you having almost a nervous breakdown not wanting to receive rejection again. You had enough of that for a lifetime. Was she even interested in that way or was she just being nice? It took her until the next morning to get back to you, but when she did, it brought your heart to quiver.

She invited you over for a walk along the coastline by sunset. Whenever Donna laughed, it felt as if the world was changing for the better, and she smiled like a goddess. When the sun was almost gone and barely visible, it made the whole island shimmer in a shade of magenta. The older woman seemed as if she took a liking to you, that’s when you realised the arm sneaked around you. It was that day when you never wanted to leave Kalokairi or the high you’ve been on since you first saw her.

—♡︎

Over the weeks you two had somehow developed an unspoken romantic relationship, none of you were brave enough to talk about the strong feelings in between. When Donna wasn’t busy working in the Hotel, you did almost everything together, sat by the beach while you used her as your muse for writing or you two cuddled on the couch.

You had sent your work to a publisher in New York when you had gathered a few more poems and one night you received an email. They actually wanted you in New York, the head of the company wanted to meet you first and if everything goes well he wanted to offer you a contract and an apartment in which you could get your words flowing. Although that sounded like a dream to you, so surreal and perfect to be true, your true new home was the island and the mere thought about leaving was too much. That’s why you didn’t tell Donna. You weren’t sure if this was the right time or if she’d even care.

„Why did they have to leave her out, just because she couldn’t pay for the country club?” the thing you loved about her, was that she always commented on the movies you watched. „It seems unfair to me,” you added and snuggled closer. You were partly on your laptop to check your mails for a confirmation on an order you placed. She was holding you close while her head was resting on yours. It was the smell of the ocean that comforted you and made your eyelids heavy. You had never stayed overnight at her house because you didn’t know if that was alright for her, so you fought against tiredness. Few strands of her hair slightly covered your eyes which only caused you to give in to your exhaustion more.

The steady sound of the movie and her beating heart made you even more tired until you couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer. A comforting wave of sleep hit you and soon you were comforted in a dream. It wasn’t until the woman you’d fallen asleep on moved abruptly, that you woke up. „Ouch,” you murmured and your head jolted in an upward direction. „I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you,” Donna sounded weird but you brushed it off due to the late hour. „Don’t worry, is everything alright?” you then asked while straightening your back. Only a light hum was a response to your question, she then focused on the movie again. Minutes passed and your eyelids started to feel like cement. „Okay, you know what? It’s not okay. I know going through your things wasn’t right, but your laptop was open and I’ve seen the email from the publisher and internally I’m going mad and-“

„Stop,” it was a short but loud enough interruption of her rambling. Donna's eyes grew wide. „I don’t mind if you’re going through my things, but before you assume something you could’ve asked me, because I wasn’t planning on going,” you didn’t want to snap in that way. Only a regretful „Oh..” broke the uncomfortable silence. You felt bad for speaking to her in that tone. „I’m sorry but I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, I just found you.” A small but proud smile formed on your lips, maybe the feelings were mutual. „I’m not going anywhere,” you quietly replied. Both of you started staring at the screen of the tv again, wordlessly. „Y/n?”

You hummed in response. „I think I love you.” „You think?” you laughed, „because I might love you too.” Her hands quickly found your face and pulled you in her direction, „Is that alright?” A slight nod confirmed and Donna’s lips found yours. They moved against yours in sync and that’s when you first noticed how soft they were, she tasted like peach and lavender. „Your hair’s so soft,” she mumbled when she stopped for air, after that Donna quickly found your lips again. „And your cute when you’re all worried,” you added when you gasped for air.

That night you stayed with Donna and fell asleep cuddling her. She wore a blue pyjama with puppies all over it, you were gushing over how adorable she looked.

—♡︎

„Come on we’re going to be late for the ferry if you don’t hurry up,” Donna rushed past you to turn off the kitchen lights. „Yeah yeah don’t rush me or I’m never gonna finish,” you replied and closed your suitcase. You were going home for your father's birthday and they wanted to meet the woman that you couldn’t stop talking about. „Ready?” „Yes.” Donna stretched out her hand for you and pulled you after her. „I hope they’ll like me,” she pondered while loading the suitcases in the trunk. „They will absolutely love you, trust me,” you said and helped her closing up.

The ferry was crowded as usual and you two barely had enough space so Donna demanded you to sit on her lap. „I hope we’re gonna catch our flight,” the woman mumbled and nervously checked her wristwatch. „Don’t sweat it, we’re gonna make it on time it’s still early,” you cackled, knowing that she was nervous. The ferry sailed over the water just as gracefully as a bull in a china shop. When the ferry reached the mainland, Donna and you quickly rushed to a cab and drove to the nearest airport. The sky was flawlessly blue, not a cloud could be seen.

Not a lot of people decided to fly to England on that day, you could count 17 people at the checkpoint. In the meantime Donna was a nervous wreck, the woman constantly fidgeted with the keychains. „Ew your hands are sweaty,” you joked when you took hers in yours, „don’t be afraid, I’m with you the whole time.” Donna forced a smile on her face then followed you on the airplane. It wasn’t a long flight, maybe four or five hours. The start was a rough patch, Donna’s anxiety of flying was at its highest and she was seemingly about to throw up. Luckily you could talk her down and she soon fell asleep.

Arriving in London Southend, which was close to your parent's house, your girlfriend's nerves seemed to be calmed and you almost thought she’d taken something. „Let’s get out of here, my brother’s gonna pick us up,” you declared as both of you got your luggage. „He’s very much into cars and all that stuff, so if he’s annoying you just tell him to shut up, I do this every time.” „Oh I hope it’s not getting too complicated so that I can keep up,” she stifled a laugh and cheerily followed you along to the exit. As usual, your brother couldn’t shut up about the new cars he is about to tune, but luckily the ride was only about 40 minutes.

Your father was fascinated by Donna, the two of them got along quite well and even your mother seemed to approve of your choice this time. There have been a few women she wasn’t fond of, almost hated them and in retrospect, she was right about them. As it got darker outside, your father's guests said their goodbyes and left one by one until only the five of you were left at the table. „We’re gonna go to bed, it’s getting late and I’ve got work tomorrow,” your father declared and clapped his hands on both of his legs before getting up. „Yeah me too,” your brother said.

„Wanna sit in front of the fireplace for a while?” you asked as all of them were gone. „Absolutely.” „Thanks for coming, I was afraid you wouldn’t like my family because of how crazy they are sometimes,” you whispered when you draped a blanket over the both of you. „They’re all lovely people, I’m happy they don’t seem to hate me,” Donna joked. „They don’t, they love you but maybe not as much as I do,” you sweet-talked. Her finger booped your nose before she planted a quick kiss on your forehead. „Can I hold your hand?” she quietly asked. You nodded, feeling her soft palms against yours was enough to make you feel safe. While you sat there watching the fire die out, the grip around Donna got tighter, fearing she’d be gone as soon as the sun rises. But she wasn’t, she was still there in the morning and the morning after and so on. You were happy with her, happier than you would’ve imagined.

* used a poem from atticus

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honeymoonjin · 3 years

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.9k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: cursing, panic attack

A/N: apologies for my tgm crimes here but i gotta keep you on your toes since you have the old plan. also i'm not going to spoil anything but day 25 has one of my fav scenes in the show so far ;;-; so please enjoy this chapter and i will continue to work hard to finish the following one and get back into the posting routine!

DAY TWENTY-FOUR

You’re roused from sleep by the feathered sensation of fingertips on your jaw. Twitching slightly, you try and move away from it, burrowing deeper into the warm, gently rocking pillow your head is propped up on.

Before you can slip back under, however, the fingers give one last attack: a sudden flick to your cheek that echoes with a thwack. You flinch and furrow your brows, grumbling your displeasure since your words haven’t quite found you yet.

“Get up, sleepyhead, unless you’d rather I just piss in the bed.”

That’ll do it. You shoot up so quickly your vision swims, one side of your face feeling cold without the comfort of Yoongi’s chest. “Fuck you, go pee,” you slur, eyes still half-closed, the morning glare peeking through a gap in his curtains.

Yoongi happily but hurriedly trots off to the bathroom, giving you a moment of respite to collect yourself. It takes a few moments to recall the previous night, not just the way Yoongi’s voice had made you cum in your room, but also the way it later lulled you to sleep as he told you hushed stories of his childhood or anecdotes from his days as a sex education teacher.

You can even hear his voice now, just barely slipping under the crack of the door, humming and singing under his breath as he washes his hands.

When he finally exits, you’re propped up by pillows, duvet tucked over your knees and eyes crinkled fondly at his bedhead.

“Oh, no,” he starts with a frown, “you better get that look off of your face.”

Your smile drops. “What?”

Taming his hair with a few flat strokes, he shakes his head. “I need somebody sane in this house to talk to. You aren’t allowed to fall in love with me, it’s conflict of interest.”

Mouth dropping open, it takes you a few minutes to note the subtle curl to his lips. “You dick! I’m certainly not planning on it, don’t flatter yourself.”

“Hey,” he defends in a drawl, no attempt at modesty as he shucks his pyjamas before browsing his chest of drawers, “it’s been done before. You come for the massive dick and stay for the massive heart.” He pauses, shoulder muscles flexing as he reaches in to a drawer, pulling out a pair of dark wash jeans. “Stop looking at my ass, I’m trying to lecture you.”

On the contrary, you lower your gaze and narrow in on it. “You’re starting to develop a little bubble butt, Yoongi. It’s very cute.” Not leaving him time to protest, you barrel on. “Besides, your dick isn’t that big.”

“That’s only because you’re comparing mine to hyung’s. And Namjoon’s. And… And Jungkook’s, I guess. And-” Suddenly he cuts himself off, throwing himself back on the bed with his back hunched in despair. “Fuck, do I have a small dick?”

“Mm, not really,” you dismiss easily, deciding to finally get out of bed and pick out your own clothes - selecting them from Yoongi’s drawers, of course. He makes no protest, still staring blankly at the jeans in his hands. “You just have steep competition here. There’s nothing wrong with small dicks, either. They’re cute.”

Now visible from your angle, Yoongi’s face twists in a grimace. “But my dick isn’t small, right?”

You shrug, slipping on one of his FG shirts and a pair of sweatpants loose enough that you have to knot the drawstrings. “If it helps you sleep at night.”

He spares one somber glance down between his legs before he slips on a pair of underwear, finally stepping into the jeans. There’s a brief period of comfortable silence, before he lets out a small sigh. “Can I… Can I confess something to you?”

Although a quip would be easy enough to say, you sense the joking is over. “Of course, Yoongi,” you assure instead, sitting cross-legged on the unmade bed beside him. He doesn’t meet your eye, busying himself with slipping a shirt over his head. “What’s up?”

Once he’s fully dressed, he still keeps his eyes low. “When you- On Monday, when you voted out Jin-hyung. I was so glad.”

You pause for a moment. “Because you wanted him out of the competition?” you venture, but he shakes his head dully.

“Because I thought he might look at me again if he didn’t have you.”

Something sinks in your stomach, cold enough to make you shiver. The guilt in Yoongi’s voice doesn’t conceal the open vulnerability of his expression as he fiddles with his bitten fingernails. “What do you mean, Yoongi?”

“What him and I had earlier wasn’t healthy, I know that,” he defends to himself, “but… I still miss it. I miss him. But even when I spoke to him after the elimination, all he would talk about was you. And I can’t even be mad, because I get it. And I- If I’m honest,” he murmurs, feet scuffing restlessly on the carpet, “I don’t even know what I’m wanting to achieve by telling you this, but I couldn’t stand not having anybody know about it. I never wanted it to get this messy. I told myself I wouldn’t let my feelings get caught up. But I think a little heartbreak would be worth it, for him. Is that stupid?”

You feel so unanchored, like there’s nothing for you to grab onto to steady yourself. More so, you feel entirely incapable of helping your friend like you so desperately want to. “It’s not stupid,” you begin, reaching out to cup one of his hands snugly between the two of yours, head resting on his shoulder in solidarity, “and I’m so sorry. Does he- does he know you feel this way?”

“I don’t think so,” Yoongi admits in a low voice, leaning into your touch. “If he does, then he must not like me since he’s not acknowledging it. And if he doesn’t, then he must have never even considered me like that. I know I was a distraction at best.”

You knit your brows together, deep in thought to try and find the right words to say. “Or perhaps he knows and he’s respecting your boundaries by letting you initiate, especially since he was the one who took advantage of you last time. And perhaps he doesn’t know, and it’s only because he’s so caught up in his own feelings that he hasn’t considered that you may feel the same. You just don’t know these things, Yoongi. I didn’t know how you felt either until you told me.”

He nods slowly, jerkily. “Yeah,” he says weakly. “Jungkook said almost the exact same thing, actually.”

You pull back slowly, curiosity colouring your tone. “Jungkook?”

Yoongi manages a shy smile, cheeks colouring slightly. “He approached me. We- we talk a lot, way more than hyung and I ever did. I know Kookie has a crush on me, and we said we’d take things slow, but dammit, I can’t help but like the kid.”

You let a surprised laugh bubble up your throat. “That- I was not expecting that, but I’m so glad, Yoongi. Even if you don’t have Jin, I’m glad you’re letting yourself be happy with others.”

His smile falters. “Is it greedy that liking Jungkook doesn’t make me want Jin-hyung any less?”

You go still, thinking of your own blooming feelings for... Well, for most of the people in this house, if not - at least a little bit - all of them. “I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “I’d like to think not.”

Yoongi lifts his gaze to you, carefully studying your face. “Do you ever worry,” he begins, so softly that you have to strain to make the words out, “that our feelings have been set up. By the show, I mean.” His brows furrow deeper. “We’re living in a practical paradise - luxurious house with no real jobs, our food is paid for, we’re literally getting rewarded to have sex. It’s so artificial, you know? So who’s to say that our feelings are artificial, too? I- I’ve been thinking about that a lot,” he admits with a pensive stare.

You can’t lie. You nod. “I’d like to think not,” you repeat hollowly, “but… I mean, yeah, this feels like some alternate reality, and thinking of any of you in normal, mundane, real-life scenarios seems so strange. Like, can you picture Hoseok sitting down and doing his taxes?”

Yoongi snorts, shaking his head in bemusement as a line of tension eases from his shoulders. “I hope he hires an accountant. I certainly wouldn’t trust him with my money.”

You let out a deep sigh and fall backwards onto the duvet, air punched out of you on impact. “The thing is, Yoongi,” you declare in a matter-of-fact tone, “we have no way of knowing what life will be like once all this is wrapped up so why even bother worrying?”

He turns slightly, just enough to watch you warily over his shoulder. “Maybe because I could get my heart broken?”

You pout at him. “Tell me how that’s any different from developing a crush in real life?”

He opens his mouth, furrows his brows, and closes it again. “I- Ugh. Fuck you for being correct.”

Pleased with yourself, you hide your grin as you playfully knock his side with your foot, making him recoil with a groan. “Be as cautious or as impulsive as you want, but even if all this is fake, you could’ve just as easily developed those feelings outside of the show. Like come on, if you saw Jin in the grocery store don’t tell me you wouldn’t fall in love on sight!”

Yoongi shakes his head again, a wry smile playing at his lips. “I see your point… and now I’m picturing Jin getting groceries and looking hot doing it...wow.”

You cackle at the dazed look on Yoongi’s face, using his arm to pull yourself up off the bed, patting him on the shoulder. “Good talk, champ. I’m off to chow down on the leftover pork from last night. Care to join me?”

His eyes glitter, but the doctor declines. “Yoonji said she blackmailed one of the production team to bring her fried chicken from her favourite place. She’s hiding it in the bunk room, but you didn’t hear that from me. She’s selling some to me for a small fortune, the little devil.”

“Less than half a week here and she’s already set up a black market,” you muse, “I think I may be in love with her, Yoongi.”

“Don’t you dare.”

While the kitchen is empty when you first arrive, it only takes the sizzle of pork belly in a saucepan to draw your roommates down.

Jin is first, silently rummaging in the pantry and fridge for some side dishes to add to the mix. In return, you begin boiling some hot water, adding instant coffee mix to two mugs.

As the others join, the line of mugs and glasses on the kitchen island grows, until even the two Min twins are hovering in the kitchen, looking suspicously still hungry after their illicit breakfast.

There aren’t enough chairs at the table to seat you all, but luckily Taehyung and Jungkook are happy hunched over the bench in the kitchen, sharing a set of Airpods and snickering at a seemingly endless stream of TikToks.

At the table, Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi chow down on their meals, the latter with a considerably smaller portion made up mostly of meat. Yoonji and Jimin are on either side of you, with Jin on one end, chewing slow to savour each bite.

It’s the first time in a while that you’ve all shared breakfast at the same time, and you’re struck with a deep feeling of fondness at this little family-like group you’re living with. Jimin sneaks extra strips of meat or spoonfuls of rice into your bowl when he thinks you’re not looking; Hoseok listens enthusiastically to Namjoon’s explanation of a summer school course he’s taking, even as he has to ask for clarification just about every second sentence; Yoongi splits his time between checking up on the two maknaes with a soft look, and scowling at his sister’s teasing comments.

“Any plans for the day?” Yoonji asks suddenly, tugging you out of your musings. She’s dressed sleekly in a black velvet mock neck shirt and high waisted denim shorts, her face as stark a resemblance to her brother as ever, with two sharp lines of black on her lids being the only visible makeup. “Except, I suppose, the mandatory fucking.”

You huff with pink cheeks, never growing used to hearing it so openly. “The days kinda blur together a little when you have no real responsibilities,” you admit, “I should probably find a hobby or something.”

Yoonji’s eyes crinkle in faux empathy. “Oh, honey, you’re gonna be so out of it when you return to the real world. You all will,” she adds, before shrugging, “except maybe Namjoon. Seems like academia doesn’t stop for anyone.”

You can’t help but agree. “He has more brain cells in his pinky finger than I do in my own body,” you swear, “he could break an arm and still type a thesis one-handed.”

Halfway through a mouthful of food, you’re rewarded to the ungraceful yet endlessly endearing sound of her snorting, a hand cupped over her mouth. After swallowing, she turns towards you to respond. “I haven’t known him for long, but that seems to check out. He’s quite the character, huh?”

You don’t miss the meaningful lilt to her voice, nor the quirk of a sharp brow. “He’s a good guy,” you reply under your breath, gaze darting down the table to where the man himself is engaged in an intensely enthusiastic discussion (okay, closer to a TedTalk) with Hoseok, now using pieces of meat to create an abstract diagram in his otherwise empty bowl. The latter looks bewildered, but is nonetheless paying deep attention to every word.

It’s impossible not to feel soft inside as you look at the pair of them, all complementary contrast. Hoseok with his slender nose and harsh facial structure and Namjoon with a round, gentle face. One of them dressed in sleek black and the other in oversized earth tones, the typically reserved one animated and the bubbly one focused in. It had taken you barely a month of shared living to become completely fond of these men, not just Namjoon and Hoseok but all of them, and as much as it was nice to have someone new in the Villa for a while, Yoonji’s presence makes you more aware of the fact that you and the seven guys had developed a certain equilibrium that seemed slightly off-balance with the change.

It makes you worry about what other disturbances this delicate system could hold, and if returning to the real world would be a shift large enough to permanently upend it.

Wishing to dispel the pessimistic narrative beginning to form, you focus in on Yoonji again. “Anyways,” you start, “how are you finding the Villa so far?”

“Certainly an interesting look behind the veil, though it’s really not ideal having to-” Yoonji’s cut off by the chirp of an incoming message on her phone. “Sorry, one sec,” she mumbles absentmindedly, but you don’t miss the way her face falls when she reads the message, immediately glancing directly across the table to where her brother sits.

To your growing concern, Yoongi is also reading a message on his phone, and he quietly excuses himself from the table, leaving his bowl half-eaten. He jerks his head towards the front door, and Yoonji manages a quick apology before they’re leaving the room.

All startled out of their separate conversations, the remaining members of the household sit in confused silence, enough that even Taehyung and Jungkook turn around from their phones.

“What’s going on?” Jungkook asks in a worried voice. “Where’s Yoongi-hyung?”

Nobody replies, Jin just shaking his head with a grim frown and leaving the table himself, going after them.

“Guys,” Taehyung says more insistently, eyes not leaving the empty seats at the table.

“They both got a text,” you say with furrowed brows, “Yoongi and Yoonji. Must’ve been bad news, judging by their faces.”

“Jin-hyung’ll find out what’s going on,” Namjoon assures, though it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself, “let’s just clean up for them and wait for an update. Yeah?”

The two youngest nod solemnly, still with a single Airpod each bobbing in their opposite ears.

For a while, the group of you remaining sit in silence, as if caught up in some spell that would only be broken once Jin returned with some answers. The absence of Yoongi at the table is so much more pronounced, and you can’t help but feel the sickening worry swirl inside you when you look at his bowl, chopsticks strewn carelessly beside it.

Everyone is just waiting for bad news. You’ve felt this looming dread before, and it either came with a swoop of relief or a blow of despair. Your teeth find your thumbnail as you wait helplessly to see which one it’ll be.

It feels like an eternity before the door finally opens, making everyone jump, but only a few minutes have really passed. Jin is panting slightly, like he ran back from wherever Yoongi disappeared to.

“He’s-” he starts quickly, before a tremor passes over his face and he grimaces, jogging over and falling heavily into his chair at the table, face in his hands. “Their dad is in hospital. Heart attack.”

“Oh my god,” Namjoon breathes, brows knit together in sympathy. “Is he okay? Was it serious?”

Jin shrugs, looking up enough to run his hand over his face and take a shaky breath. “He’s alright for now, but apparently they need to make sure it doesn’t repeat anytime soon. If he settles, he’ll be fine, but there’s a chance that he might suffer another attack. Yoongi and Yoonji are going to the hospital now to stay with him until they’re more certain he’s stable. Just in case.”

“When is he coming back? Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook’s eyes are wide, shiny. He can’t stop fiddling with his fingers, self-soothing.

“Not for a while, I don’t think,” Jin divulges with a pained expression. “He needs to be there for his family right now. That’s all I know, I’m sorry.”

The front door creaks, and all of you instinctively whip your heads towards it, as if Yoongi himself might be returning already, but you’re greeted with the weary face of Producer Sejin, joining you at the table, taking Yoongi’s old spot. Taehyung frowns deeply at the choice, turning his face away.

“What’s going on?” you ask quickly. “What happens to Yoongi? And us?”

“Yoongi is… He was in a rush to get going, understandably, so we didn’t speak in great depth. But he in short stated that he’d return when his father was in better health if the place was still open for him. I’ve got in contact with the higher-ups, and we’ve agreed to put the show on a temporary hold.”

“On hold?” Jungkook asks in a nervous voice. “What does that even mean?”

Sejin clears his throat stiffly and clicks his tongue. “Well. It means we’re putting a stop to the game for now, in short. If Yoongi is able to return by the end of the week, we’ll resume as usual. Otherwise, we’ll consider him to have permanently left the competition, and we’ll be forced to continue the game without him.”

You frown, fighting the urge to cry. This all feels so wrong, like he’s been taken from you with little hope of reunion, and discussing it like administration feels so clinical. “So we’re just sitting here, not knowing if he’s going to come back home, waiting around in limbo?” As soon as you finish, it feels like the word home lingers in the air longer than the rest of them. And perhaps this house doesn’t feel like home to you, but it certainly seems like six of the seven pieces of home are around you right now, and it’s not the same without him away. By the way the others are solemn and red-eyed, you probably aren’t the only one that’s begun feeling that way.

Sejin just shakes his head slowly, as subdued as you all are. “Listen, I know this isn’t ideal. The boss wanted to film it, make a big drama out of it, and then kick him off the show for views. I’m doing the best I can here to compromise and give him some dignity.”

Eyes widening, you stare at the round eyes of the cameras in the living room. “Are you- are you even allowed to say that?”

“I cut the camera feeds,” Sejin says in a defeated tone, “the show is officially off-air for technical difficulties. You can do what you want here while you wait - hell, you can leave if you want, just please be prepared to come back on the Sunday. We’ll have a discussion about whether Yoongi can return, and what we’ll do if he doesn’t. Understood?”

“Understood,” Namjoon offers up for the group, and the producer leaves with another sigh and an attempt at a comforting smile. You can’t help but feel bad for him, working such an emotionally draining job, especially when you’ve heard nothing but bad things about his employer.

Once the room falls into quiet again, Jin stands up, chair legs scraping against the floor. “Okay, I think we should decide as a group what we’re wanting to do. Stay or go?”

You open your mouth to give your two cents, but before you can, Jungkook suddenly chokes on a sob and covers his face with his hands, Jimin immediately scooting his chair closer to wrap an arm around his shaking shoulders.

“Hey, what is it?” Jimin asks quietly, but the room is so silent that you all catch it. “Talk to me, bun. What is it?”

Jungkook takes a few stuttering breaths to compose himself, sniffling. “I don’t want you all to leave too,” he confesses, Jimin’s thumb catching a tear dangling on the tip of his nose, “isn’t Yoongi-hyung enough?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” the elder promises, pressing a kiss into his hairline before looking up at the rest of you, eyes widening intentionally. “We’ll stick together through this until he comes back, yeah? It’s not all bad. The cameras are off, remember? We can have a break now, we don’t need to worry about the show. Isn’t that nice?”

After a moment’s considering, Jungkook nods slowly. “‘t is nice,” he admits begrudgingly. “But only if everyone stays.”

You can’t help but smile fondly, getting up yourself to come behind him, stroking his hair back. “We’ll stay, of course we’ll stay. Let’s spend some time together tonight, we can put on a movie and snuggle, how about that?”

He perks up at the thought of this, glancing around the table as the others nod in affirmation. “I’ll bring down the blankets,” he bargains, cracking a small smile, and the rest of the room relaxes, immediately bursting into sound as everyone arranges the necessary supplies for a good quality movie night, almost back to normal.

Jungkook, as the member of the Villa in most urgent need of a pick-me-up, is given movie choosing privileges, so the seven of you tuck in for a rewatch of his favourite Spiderman movies, perhaps the only thing that can keep him glued to the screen.

At first, the absence feels overwhelming to you. Try as you might through the opening sequence, you can’t shake it. Your mind counts heads without thinking, keeps looking at the space on the couch where Yoongi liked to put his feet up. Even though you know it’s his father who is unwell, not him, there’s the sick swelling in your stomach that makes you feel like his departure is final, and shortly after the title card plays out, you’re quietly excusing yourself and stumbling to the back door, in desperate need of fresh air.

It’s cold outside, a brisk wind cutting through you. You barely make it around the corner out of sight before your legs buckle, and you let yourself fall into a pathetic crouch, your weight propped up against the side of the house as you try to suck the chilled air into your lungs.

The panic creeps up on you in swells, the irrational fear that Yoongi would leave the show and you’d never see him again and everything would fall apart suddenly feeling like a whole tsunami crashing against you. Your fingers claw at the exterior wall as you fall back onto your behind, unable to even keep yourself in a crouch.

More so than the intrusive thoughts, it’s the image of Yoongi’s face falling, of him rushing out of the house in frantic distress that replays in your mind and leaves you suffocating. He looked so scared, your calm, reliable Yoongi. He was like a pillar, but that news was a fell swoop he couldn’t stay strong against. Your heart burns for him, cramping and aching in your chest.

For a moment, you picture yourself staying out here, gasping for breath until the sun goes down. You feel alone, more than ever since coming here, and even as the thought spooks you, there’s no energy in your body to do anything about it.

Just as your breaths start to sound more like death rattles and you curl your face towards the ground, a warmth envelopes your back, arms circling your middle and lifting you up.

“Hey, breathe, breathe with me, Y/n. I’m here.”

You recognise the voice. You recognise the built torso holding you steady, but your mind isn’t putting the pieces together, and so you simply squeeze your eyes shut and allow yourself to be maneuvered around there are hands on your face and a deep voice instructing you to look at me. I’m here; look at me.

You crack your eyes open, body heaving with the effort it takes to get any oxygen in your lungs, but you’re met with the soulful brown eyes of Kim Namjoon, narrowed in concern.

His hands are warm despite the frigid air outside, and you let yourself melt into him, eyes sinking to watch his lips mouth instructions, demonstrating exaggerated breathing for you to follow.

You feel distinctly like you might vomit, but you force yourself to match his breaths. The shuddering in and stilted out aren’t as fluid as his, but slowly your heart doesn’t thud in your ears and your body doesn’t shake as violently.

You feel damp, sweating all over, and your whole body aches, but your hearing begins to properly tune in again, coherence creeping back. “Na-Namjoon,” you gasp, wishing you had the energy to grab his arms or hug him or something other than lying limp against the wall of the house.

“Shh, hey, don’t strain yourself. Take it easy. I’m here.” He’s crouching in front of you, eyes locked onto you as he continues to hold you steady, jaw kept aloft by his hands. “Keep breathing, and it’ll go away. It’s a panic attack, I’ve had my fair share. You’ll come right.”

Trusting him despite the persisting burn in your chest, you let him coach your breathing for several more minutes, the heightened air influx making your head go light and floaty.

Once a counted breath turns into a yawn of exhaustion, you know the worst has passed. It leaves you boneless, not a single ounce of power left in your muscles, but you can breathe again, and it’s all thanks to the man across from you.

“I’ve never had one before,” you manage, voice cracking, “not like that.”

Namjoon’s lips press together in sympathy, and he turns to prop himself against the side of the house beside you, letting you continue breathing independently. “Is it Yoongi-hyung?”

You nod weakly, and the academic hums in confirmation. “I used to get panic attacks a lot in university. I used to hate them, thought they meant I was weak. Like I couldn’t handle the pressure as much as I thought I could. But, you know, these days I just figure I’m only panicking because it means so much to me. And I don’t think that makes me weak at all. It just means I care. Don’t feel ashamed about this, Y/n. All it means is that you care about hyung a lot.”

All the breath in your lungs leaves you in one rush as you prop your head in your hands, knees tucked towards your chest. “Yeah.” You wish you had something more appreciative to say, but your mind is waterlogged, weighed down and not functioning.

Namjoon doesn’t seem to mind the curt response. “I care about him a lot too. He’s like the glue for us, isn’t he? I’m worried to fall apart without him here keeping us in line. But we survived before we knew him and we’ll survive now. What’s better is supporting each other and waiting to see how we can support Yoongi-hyung, too.”

“You’re right,” you admit with a heavy breath, wiggling your toes to will energy back into them. “We’ll be okay.”

Namjoon bends sideways to bump your shoulder warmly. “That’s the spirit. Now; I’m happy to stay out here as long as you need, but Jungkook was the first one to notice you had been gone for a while, and I think he’s probably getting concerned by now. If you’re up to it, I can give you a hand to get inside and join the others again. What do you reckon?”

You lean your head back against the wall, taking a moment to consider. “What movie is he putting on next?”

“He mentioned wanting to check out Paw Patrol on Netflix.”

“Let me die out here,” you plead weakly.

Namjoon laughs, the sound like comfort itself, and stands up, offering you a hand. “Come on, kitten, up we get.”

In the end, the Netflix viewings manage to distract you for the rest of the night. When your limbs are tangled together and snacks are flowing, it’s easy to tune out of reality a bit and focus on the television screen in the comfort of shared company. Jungkook clears space on the couch for you the second you return, and clings to you for hours, his chin on your shoulder. You don’t complain, feeling soothed by the physical closeness. But the hours pass, and when the majority of you can no longer hold in your yawns, Seokjin gets up to turn the lights back on and clean up.

“Let’s get some rest,” he decides, and it’s that return to the real world that immediately dampens the atmosphere again, the group of you turning solemn. You pause to pull out your phone, sending Yoongi a quick message of support, and that you all missed him already, but no reply comes.

Without words being spoken, the seven of you remaining find yourselves flocking together as you make your way up to bed. Jin flanks the maknae as Namjoon and Hoseok lean heavily into each other, the four of them disappearing into Jin’s room. You naturally fall into step with the remaining two men, Taehyung linking his arm into yours and holding you close all the way to Jimin’s room.

Somehow, the house is too quiet. Even though Yoongi wasn’t a particularly noisy housemate, his absence cloaks the air.

You have no energy to shower. Washing your face is as much as you can manage, and Taehyung is even more despairing than you are, slumped on the toilet seat as Jimin cleans his face for him.

The uncertainty is what makes your heart flutter on edge, unable to wind down, and you know from the restrained looks of fear and distress in the guys’ eyes that they feel the same. The show would be undoubtably ruined if Yoongi couldn’t return. But more important than that, Yoongi would be ruined if he lost his father so suddenly.

Knowing Yoongi is hurting makes you ache, and you cling to your lovers like they’re your anchors in a churning sea, tucking your face firmly into Taehyung’s shoulder. It soothes you a little to be pinned between them, but the three of you still lie awake as the minutes blink by agonisingly slow.

At some point, you must fall into a fitful sleep, because when a sudden noise fills the room, it rouses you aggressively, and you almost kick Jimin’s shin in the process. Grunting, the half-asleep man rubs his face and twists around, fumbling on the nightstand for the offending noise.

It’s Taehyung’s phone, vibrating against the wooden table, and once Jimin blinks twice at the glaring screen he gasps and yanks the charger out, sitting up in bed. “It’s hyung,” he declares in a voice more vulnerable than you’d ever heard from him before. “Wake Tae.”

You force yourself to dispel those last few wisps of sleep from your brain, and gently shake Taehyung awake. According to the clock on the nightstand, it’s almost two in the morning, but your heart leaps as Yoongi’s face fills the phone screen, looking right at the three of you.

“I thought you would be together,” he states with a rueful smile, though you can see that it doesn’t quite reach his reddened eyes. “Sorry for calling so late.”

“Don’t apologise, hyung,” Taehyung whines, half of his weight on you as he leans in close, “we were so worried about you. How’s your dad?”

Yoongi’s brows furrow beneath mussed hair. “Not great,” he admits. “A little more stable, at least, but he’s pretty confused right now. Nurses worry that it might have affected his brain.”

Your heart sinks, both at the thought of a relatively young man suffering such awful health complications, but also at how Yoongi was trying to hide his exhaustion and distress. “Oh my god.”

“Mm, we should know soon what the damage is,” Yoongi explains further, rubbing his eyes with the hand not holding his phone aloft, “and if he’s alright I can head back h- head back to the Villa. He’s just been sleeping a lot today so… We don’t really know how he’ll be until he’s conscious for enough time. Yoonji’s with him at the moment, I just wanted to duck out and give you guys an update. Where are the others?”

“Jin-hyung’s room,” Jimin answers, even as he’s throwing back the covers. “They’ll want to hear from you themselves, just hold on a minute.”

You hear Yoongi’s voice echoing from the phone and strain to make out his words as Jimin heads to the door. “No, no, don’t wake them. I actually wanted to ask if you’d like to come visit? Of course none of you know my dad, and he doesn’t know you, but- Well, Yoonji and I could do with some company.”

You jump up, rushing to Jimin’s side. As he naturally accommodates your presence and pulls you flush against him, you lift your face up to the phone. “We’ll be there,” you assure Yoongi, “just please get some rest tonight. It’s been a rough day.”

Yoongi’s pained smile breaks your heart, and Jimin leads the phone back to the bed so that Taehyung can say a final goodbye before the three of you hang up and crawl, exhausted but somewhat relieved, back into bed.

#bts x reader #bts x reader smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #the gentlemen #tgm #yoongi x reader #jin x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader

386 notes · View notes

howl-fantasies · 2 years

Text

---- 1 New Message -----

Unknown

Y/N! Thanks god I finally retrieved your number!

Y/N

Unknown

It's Ed.

Y/N

Oh. So the rumors are true. Riddl-ED is temporarily out of the game. Nice to talk to you though, Ed.

Dr Jekyll

Well, yes... Thank you. I hoped you would help me to bring Riddler back...

Y/N

I thought you were living your best life as Ed, even more now, considering your little idyll with the good Doc. What's changed?

Dr Jeckyll

I need my IQ back. To help her with the Narrows and I can't do that while being stupid.

Y/N

So you want to play Robin Hood now? Ha!

What did the Doc say?

Dr Jeckyll

I just want to help her. She promised to help me but I'm not sure she really wants to...

Y/N

Oh. I see. You've always been a big romantic sweetheart, careful with that,it's dangerous. Did you see Mr Hyde lately? Like in the mirror or something?

Dr Jeckyll

Are you calling Riddler 'Mr Hyde'?!

No, but I sometimes feel like he took over my body, like the night everything changed.

Y/N

I did. Sounds perfect since the name of Mister Hyde is also Edward. Couldn't resist.

...

Maybe he's still here, somewhere. Not really reassuring from a sane pov. But who cares, uh? That's good news for you. Kind of.

Dr Jeckyll

Doesn't take a genius IQ to know he'll not be happy with that new nickname...

Y/N

Doesn't take a genius IQ to know I couldn't care less. Anyway. What did you try so far to make him back?

Dr Jeckyll

Tried to take pills, even natural remedies... Nothing worked.

Y/N

Are you aware they are sugar pills?

Dr Jekyll

ArE yOu AwArE tHeY aRe SuGaR PiLlS? I. KNOW! You damn woman!

Y/N

Oh hello fragments of RiddlED! So you're indeed still here, hiding deep inside Eddie's subconscious. Gotcha!

Dr Jekyll

Y/N

Riddle me this, ED: what happens when an insecure little green criminal got his butt kicked by someone he thought less intelligent than him, got his failure exposed to all Gotham and finally comes back to life?

Dr Jekyll

I am NOT insecure.

Y/N

Of course you are, that's why you have those BIG narcissistic problems, sweetheart. Now you want to know the answer don't you?

Dr Jekyll

Y/N

Well it's simple: ashamed, he puts the rests of his crumbled confidence deep, deep inside his subconscious to protect it and... HYDE it. Aren't you now, Mister?

*2min later*

----- 1 New Message -----

Dr Jekyll

Your reasoning really is something else, Y/N. As twisted as your insufferable personality. How long have you known about my little retreat?

Y/N

Welcome back. Since I saved your new number, approximately 15min ago.

...

How's Dr JEDkyll? His whish to protect you is too cute. Always knew you were a cute cinnamon roll deep INSIDE ❤️

Mister Hyde / Dr Jekyll

Shut your mouth woman!

He's asleep for a bit. Letting me prepare my grand return. Thanks to you, I have more time to enjoy our body than anticipated. Also, thanks for the warning, about Ed's romanticism. The idiot needed it.

Y/N

Always a pleasure. It applies to you too dumbass, you're two sides of the same coin after all.

Mr Hyde / Dr Jekyll

Shut. Up.

It's killing me to admit it, and I'll deny if you ever mention it. But you're far more cunning than people give you credit for, Y/N.

Y/N

Still struggle to find your words properly I see. The one you are looking for is: intelligent, Ed-dear.

Mr Hyde / Dr Jekyll

Told you I'll deny it. See you around Y/N, stay alive until we meet again.

#gotham imagine #gotham #gotham x reader #edward nygma drabble #edward nygma x reader #edward nygma #edward nygma fic #edward nygma fanfic

37 notes · View notes

xo-cuteplosion-xo · 3 years

Note

Yayy! Requests from one of my fave writers are open💕💕💕

Soo, I’ve had this fic idea for quite some time in my mind and it could be interesting. I would love to see a Dazai x Fem!Reader where the reader is a new member of the agency and have been work partners for quite some time with Dazai. The reader feels insecure because Dazai doesn't do his usual flirty stuff to her, but that's only because Dazai doesn't know how to deal with the feeling of real love, and one day, they have a painful talk about it (which starts with the reader confronting him about this when he asks what’s wrong, maybe?)- I would love for this to go from angst to fluff, thank you so much 💔💕

Awwww! I'm a favorite writer of yours! Thank you for such a generous compliment!

My belladonna |Dazai x Female Reader|

Warnings: dazai’s typical thoughts, long fic

Words: 2,385

I worked hard on this one, so I hope you like it. The fluff does take a bit but I assure you the fluff at the end is worth the angst!

Love, a humane concept many never give a second thought towards. What is love exactly? Is it the feeling of being happy which is caused by another? Then what separates love from a deep underlying friendship? Is it the fluttering tightness in your chest? Could it be the sweat and discomfort that forms near somebody you supposedly love? Was love only something a sane person who understands the meaning behind being human can feel and understand? Love raises so many questions it’s better to ignore all contact, to avoid anything that could lead to falling deeper.

Dazai had never put so much of his mind's capabilities onto a feeling before. He’d never wondered what love meant. His eyes stared off beyond the clouds as he thought about his recent missions with her. She was always so different from the other women he knew or had met over the years. The way she made her presence known in the room, or how her body seemed to be the last thing he noticed. That was important, at least when looking at Dazai. Dazai was not a man of the gentlemen variety. He actually rather impolite, some could say disgusting. He was, after all, a womanizer. It was no unknown fact he slept around, flirted, and even treated women with disrespect. Yet here she was, the newest member of the agency, his current partner. He could hardly glance her way without being star-struck. His eyes would nearly reflect the look of a teenage boy lost in a fantasy. He imagined what her voice would sound like, saying I love you, thank you, you're welcome. He imagined what goodbye embraces and welcome back embraces would feel like. Imagined her kindness, pointed and focused on him. All of this made him confused, he’d never been here before. Nobody in all his miserable years had ever strayed his thoughts to such territory. To avoid confronting the feelings that may or may not spook him, he ignored her. He treated her like he would any other co-worker. He never once asked her his questions of the suicidal manor. He never once flirted with her, he hardly talked to her.

You grew to notice these things over time. The way he avoided you; like you were some disaster waiting to happen. The way he flirted with almost every other woman besides you. Every time you worked by his side, the pain only increased. The thud of your own heart kept you from falling over the pain. Every time he glanced another's way, felt like another dagger stabbed to your side. Thoughts of what if’s eventually circled within your head. Asking yourself if you had done something to insult him. Even his coworkers couldn’t give you a solid answer to Dazai’s behavior. No matter what you did for him, he never seemed to show an ounce of care in your direction. He didn’t touch the gifts you gave him, no matter what they were. Even if they were tips on his little obsession with suicide, he ignored them. He couldn’t face you in person either. Unless you worked together, he hardly spoke to you.

Like any sane person, you couldn’t handle it anymore. A confrontation was called for.

Beneath the moonlight, as the hours of the agency closed and Dazai stayed behind, you fell back to have privacy with him. Even as the others left and bid you good luck with confronting him, you stayed put. It wasn’t that Dazai stayed late to work, he stayed late to make sure everything was alright with the agency, and to grab any leftover coffee/food from the day. He hadn’t expected to run into you as he attempted to leave with a few bags of collected things, stolen things. The moonlight glimmered against your reflection, illuminating your every feature. His eyes instantly darted from you to the door. Unsure how to respond, he let the atmosphere settle in, despite the awkwardness. “We need to talk.” Your voice despite the slight aggravation was more than angelic to him.

Putting on a smile, he raised a brow to play off the thudding pound of his heart. “Oh? We do, did something come up?” he sounded almost nervous, but he masked it enough to hide it from you.

Another silence folded over the two. With every moment, Dazai became less and less comfortable. Being in her presence was enough to send his mind whirling with confusing thoughts again. Her own nerves were starting to act up. Having to hold her hands behind her back as she fidgeted. Within the dimly lit room, illuminated by a few lights and the moon, they stood. Neither of them spoke, afraid of what came after the silence.

That was until your voice picked up from the silence. Shattering it with a soft echo. Speaking with a meek voice, you asked Dazai about his recent behavior with you. “Do you hate me?” The words slipped with ease, but hurt to speak. Afraid, he'll choke on his answer and tell you that you had done something to harm his ego, or that he didn’t find you interesting.

Dazai’s hands slid into his pockets, clenching together tightly. “No, why would you think I hate you?” he spoke clearly with no hint of nervous hesitation or lies. Yet, you could not believe him. Within his body language, the lack of eye contact, the unsure tilt of the head, the slip of his hands to his pockets, it all told you he was hiding something.

Exhaling as calmly as you could to calm your nervous chatter, you spoke up again. “Look at me then.” You hissed the words, your own eyes darting to look away from him.

Dazai froze before his head slowly shook. “I can’t,” he mumbled. His voice losing the usual confident, cocky tone as he spoke. There was no childish intent, no cocky extent, no humor to his voice. It was bland with nervous fear.

“Because you don’t like me.” Saying the words out loud made the knives that struck through turn into poisonous bullets. Each word, each realization had the initial sting of a bullet, but left a thudding emptiness, the poison.

“I don't,” he whispered. Though his voice cracked in a waiver. His breathing unsteady to match your own rapid breaths. His heart pounded with a fear he’d never felt before. His heart, his mind, it was still too confusing. He didn’t understand, couldn’t comprehend this feeling.

“Yes, you do! You treat every other woman the same! I wouldn’t mind if you just… if you just didn’t flirt, but you… you won’t even look at me!” with every pause and stutter, the pain grew. With every pause, your voice picked up. The ocean of emotion you had left untouched and sealed, starting to unravel and make sense.

“... I…” Dazai had no reply to your words. His head screamed at him to reach out and grab hold of you. To drop down and do as he always did. Another half of him told him to pull something else. To pull out a gift and woo you with flowers and soft praises. He didn’t understand how to truly appreciate this feeling or how to acknowledge it. He wants so much revolving around you, but he didn’t know what to do. Not even his words could form a snarky comeback or an excuse. He couldn’t pull the usual words like, you’re just too stunning to look at.

Watching his silence, and the only word he spit be a single vowel, you shook your head. The emotional fire within your chest letting go. You turned towards the door rather dramatically. Your hand grasping the handle in a swift motion. “You’re a selfish bastard Dazai. You’re a selfish bastard. Letting women fall in love only to rip their hearts from their chests. I knew you were one of those men, yet I still… I still gave it to you.” Dropping the anger and the loudness of your voice you spoke softly. With slight drips of venom being used to cover the pain consuming you.

He watched her pull the door open in one single movement. His eyes traced her movements as the door slammed. The words she spoke took what felt like millennia to make sense. He kept trying to make sense of her words, he didn’t understand any of them. He couldn’t until he took into thought his own heart. He stopped trying to make sense, and rather let his heart make sense of it. Understanding human emotions, understanding what made humans… Well, humans, was never his forte. Not a second later, his eyes shot wide and his lips parted with shock. A new thought he’d never understand crossing his restless mind. “Why, why would she love me?” he shook away the thought, reaching for the handle of the door and flinging it open. Never in his life had he been the one doing the chase, yet here he was doing just that. His feet carried him down the stairs and out of the building. The slow patter of the rain provides a dramatic splatter when his feet hit the cold cement. His breaths formed white puffs of air as he skidded to a stop. Thinking back to missions, recalling the sentences he’d tried to ignore. The things about her he tried to ignore. The invitations to walk. The way she came up behind him, trying to interact while he ignored her. Without having to recall much, his feet swerved to the left and ran. His feet slid here and there over the slippery gravel, the mud, and sharp turns. His gut led him instead of his mind. For once, he was trusting his instincts. The park his heart shouted. The first time he’d truly fallen for her, the smile she gave him on her first day. It was love at first sight. Love, admitting it was really such a humane feeling was terrifying. Yes, he’d always wanted to understand humanity, but starting with something that could end in flames or bliss... was no more terrifying than standing over the ledge of a cliff.

As your feet came to a sudden halt, you found yourself at the park. Remembering the way he looked and acted when you first joined brought more water to gather along with the rain. Slipping down onto the bench, covered with the sky's tears, you curled your legs into your chest. Burying your face into your knees, you swore to yourself this wouldn’t happen again. You had been a fool, hadn't you? A fool to love a man like Dazai. Somebody obsessed with suicide and willing to flirt with every woman his eyes caught. Slowly, the rain began to pick up its pace. The moon reflected in puddles where the mud could no longer soak up its water.

He searched the area for a while despite the quickening pace of the rain. As his eyes settled against your drenched form, the way you cuddled against yourself, his heart cracked. His arms slipped from his jacket despite it being somewhat wet. While he was nervous, he snuck up behind you and rested his coat on your shoulders. He took a seat at the other end of the bench. Pulling his knees to his chest, he decided to finally share why he’d been so distant and a jerk towards you. “I was scared. I ignored, avoided, and pretended to not notice you because I was afraid.” Your glance was doubtful, after all, when was he ever scared of something? “Doubting me? I get why, I'm never scared, that's what you think right?" there was a small nod from your head, but it caused him to sigh. “I do get scared, emotions scare me. Feeling human, it’s what I want, I want to understand what it is to be human, but starting out with this… it’s terrifying.” Watching as you didn’t respond but look away, he let out a frustrated groan.

“Just, leave me alone Dazai.” Your whispers hurt. The pain reflected in your words hurt more than any wound he’d ever found himself inflicted with. He hated pain and suffering, and that’s what this was.

“I can’t, I won’t not anymore. I… fuck, I don’t understand it. I don’t… it’s hard to admit things like this belladonna… I fell in love. I don’t know how to deal with whatever this is!” His words came rushed and panicked. His hands found their way into his hair, tangling with the drenched locks. Thunder thudded softly in the sky as lightning crackled.

Your hand reached your eyes as you shook your head. “Please, please stop it. Don’t call me that! You don’t mean it. Stop trying to just make yourself feel better.” You whispered the words again until he forcefully brought your head to meet his chest. He held you tightly, running his hand over your back as he rocked back and forth.

“I’m not lying, not playing games. You’re amazing in every way possible. I still can’t understand why you'd like me.” Dazai whispered the words next to your ear. Holding you within the rain until your body stopped its trembles. What you did next shocked him more than any action that went outside his predictions did. Your lips planted themselves on his. At first, it seemed you were unsure about this. He didn’t kiss back at first, when he made his mind up, it was too late. You had pulled away ready to collect excuses. Before your lips could part with said excuses, his hands moved and cupped your face. His lips came crashing down on yours. He’d never felt this before, a spark, a real feeling in a kiss. When the two of you needed air, he moved away with a slight smile. “We should… get out of the rain before we both catch a cold.”

Blushing you tugged on the fabric of his clothes, telling him to lift you. “Yeah, we should, Kunikida would kill us both if we get sick.” You chuckled lightly, sniffling as Dazai lifted you into his arms.

“Remind me where your place is again?” with a snicker, you told him the address and allowed yourself to drift off to sleep while he carried you. “I love you, belladonna.”

198 notes · View notes

jungkxook · 4 years

Text

—demon-etized. (m)

⟶ pairing: namjoon x reader

⟶ analytics: youtuber!namjoon / ghost-hunters au / smut

⟶ words: 6,260

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ warnings: idiot ghost hunter bts, ghosts making namjoon horny ig?, slight exhibitionism, fondling, fingering, standing sex, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ description: in this episode of unsolved, namjoon and the boys risk their lives by spending overnight in an abandoned and supposedly haunted asylum in the hopes of finding some ghouls — but the boys are pretty certain the real reason for the spooky moaning isn’t allowed to go on youtube. ***warning: very scary!!!***

⟶ pinned comment: this is part of the not clickbait series!

“Well, this has been fun. Let’s go home now.”

You were starting to think this was a very stupid idea ━ but stupid would be an understatement. The looming asylum standing before you with nothing but the darkened midnight sky in the foreground acts as a foreboding omen that you’ve seen one too many times in pretty much any horror movie. The creepy abandoned estate offering itself up as a seemingly perfect and totally innocent means of adventure for a group of friends only to end in murder or a demon possession should have been enough to scare you all away. Fortunately, you’re not the only somewhat sane person (and you say that very loosely because you did, after all, agree to come with the boys), because you’re both startled yet thoroughly relieved to hear the worried statement coming from a very tense-looking Jimin.

It really was a stupid idea. Spending overnight (which, really, just translates to a few hours and a clickbait-y title for the video) in a supposedly haunted and derelict asylum from the early 1900s offered all sorts of problems that weren’t just supernatural. Squatters, creepy cult members, and risking getting whatever sorts of diseases are riddling the walls of the ancient dwelling were starting to get to you. But it was Namjoon’s idea to come here for his next video upload especially when considering the fact that for the entire month of October he and his group of YouTuber friends host a fan favourite ghost-hunting series titled Unsolved ━ and, whatever Namjoon usually suggests, the boys usually tag along with, no matter how daring or how stupid it may be.

“We literally just got here,” Hoseok retorts as he hops out of one of the two cars you and your friends had shared on the way here. It was a three hour drive from the city with the estate being much larger than you expected it to be, four main buildings sprawling out amongst empty fields. At least the stories of its creepy atmosphere are all the same. Was it the cool autumn breeze sending chills down your spine or something else entirely? The moment you stepped foot out of the car and gazed upon the asylum, it was almost as if you could feel something watching you. But that was definitely just you imagining things. “Don’t be a pussy, Jimin. What’s the worst a ghost is gonna do to you? Rattle some chains? Ooooh, spooky.”

“Okay, first of all,” Jimin rounds on the older boy almost immediately, “vaginas are the strongest muscles in female anatomy, so I’m not being a pussy. Let’s get it right, okay? I’m being a little bitch, and I embrace it. Second of all, if a ghost does rattle some chains near me, I will definitely be booking it back to the car and leaving all of you stranded here.”

From beside you, Yoongi snorts amusedly. He’s the resident non-believer amongst your group of friends so you always wonder why he even bothers to come to these things. He says it’s to help filming, but you think he’s banking on maybe one day seeing a ghost even despite all that charade of hostility. Even now, he’s already filming for the vlog, getting shots of the building but also mostly just Jimin and Hoseok’s banter in the background. “If a ghost does anything tonight, I’ll be genuinely surprised.”

“Something is going to happen tonight. I can feel it,” Jungkook says confidently. He’d been huddled over the opened side door of one of the cars with Namjoon and Jin, sifting through their high-tech equipment that you’re certain they just bought off of Amazon or something. “This place is one of the most haunted places near us. Have you even heard the stories? Apparently there are two most popular ghost sightings. One is some girl━”

“Is she hot?” Taehyung asks.

“She’s dead,” Jungkook deadpans. “Also, pretty sure she was eleven when she died from tuberculosis. Anyway, she’s more of a benevolent ghost. They say you can hear her laughing sometimes. There’s a lot of activity in one of the kids’ rooms. And the other sighting is less friendly. They just call it a shadow man because it’s hard to see its face, but you can always see an outline of a person walking by in one of their treatment buildings. There’s even been physical attacks, with one person saying they got scratched by an invisible force.”

Jimin visibly winces. “Sounds very much like a demon than a ghost to me.”

“Sick!” Hoseok exclaims. You’re worried to find that the group’s morale (aside from yours and Jimin’s) isn’t any less vivacious than when Jungkook started his story. “This is gonna be awesome.”

But you can’t help but to roll your eyes, your feigned boredom really just a weak attempt at hiding your own fright. “Oh, shut up. That’s such bullshit.”

“Is it?” Jungkook quirks a brow, challenging you.

“Well, whatever happens, we’re gonna catch it.” This confident statement comes from Namjoon. After he hands out the pieces of tech to the rest of his friends, he glances upward at the asylum with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Come on. Let’s find us some ghosties.”

As the group begins to follow Namjoon towards the nearest building, Taehyung can be heard wolfishly quipping aloud, “Time to rock and roll, ghoul boys! And, er, girl.”

“Don’t call us that,” Yoongi grumbles.

It’s comforting to hear the rest of the group erupt into fits of entertained laughter, but any banter is quick to subside as you walk up to the building. You’re relieved when Jimin decides to hang back with you and doesn’t seem to protest when you start to cling to his arm as you’re all ushered through the main entrance of the building and into utter darkness only broken apart by the dim glow of your flashlights. If you weren’t already so frightened, maybe some of it would be comical, like the way the front doors creak open so very slowly in suspense.

Under Jimin’s breath, you can hear him mumbling in chagrin, “We should have gotten holy water.”

As your eyes adjust to the darkness within, you’re able to make out that the inside is just as horrifying as it was on the outside. Dust and debris hang heavy in the air and on the ground, and almost every inch of any surface within the building is covered in graffiti works of art.

“Oh, fuck that,” Jin scoffs. “We only just stepped foot into here and this place is already giving me goosebumps.”

“Aw, sweet, bro! Check this out!” Hoseok says abruptly, startling almost all of you. He’s standing a bit further off down one hall, beckoning the rest of the group to follow. As you approach him, you can make out what sort of graffiti marking on the ground has suddenly grabbed his attention. “Who wants to lay on the pentagram with me?”

“No one,” You retort.

“I will!” Jungkook says at once, much to your dismay.

Yoongi lets out an audible strained sigh. “If any of you fucks get possessed and kill me, I’m never gonna forgive any of you. Just letting you know ahead of time.”

“Yeah, what are you gonna do?” Hoseok asks. “Come back and haunt us?”

“No, I’ll be dead. Ghosts aren’t real,” Yoongi says. “But I will still be very angry.”

“Noted.”

Before Jungkook or Hoseok can haggle Yoongi into filming them laying on the pentagram drawing and potentially offering their souls up to whatever demon lays waiting beneath it for their souls, the group is moving on. You explore the first bottom half of the building together in a tense silence before making your way up the dilapidated stairs to one of the treatment rooms that Jungkook makes certain to point out is where the infamous shadow figure is often seen. Taehyung decides to suggest, “Should we try the spirit box?”

You almost groan aloud. You fucking hate that thing, for obvious reasons.

Whether or not you believe in it, the loud gurgling noise is always unsettling and you’re already on edge. Still, you sit back with Jimin as the rest of the boys nod in agreement and fiddle with the piece of tech until it’s been turned on. You’re immediately met with a cacophony of crackling radio static so deafening that your instinctual reaction is to cover your ears. You refrain miraculously, but you still cower in one corner with Jimin as the boys listen intently to the noise.

“Is anyone here?” Namjoon calls out to no one in particular. “If you are, can you give us a sign? Move a chair or say something or push Yoongi━”

“What the━?” Yoongi gawks. “Why me?”

“‘Cause you said you don’t believe in them.”

Yoongi clamps his mouth shut, and nods in a way that admits Namjoon has a point. At that moment, there’s a pique in the static, a jumble of inaudible words that almost sounds humanlike.

“What was that?” Hoseok asks. “Sounded like… It almost sounded like it said ‘leave.’”

“Leave?” Jimin squeaks. “Think we should take that as a sign, guys.”

“Nah, I definitely heard Steve, not leave,” Yoongi says.

Jungkook frowns. “Who the hell is Steve?”

“Maybe that’s his name,” Yoongi suggests nonchalantly. “Be nice.”

After a handful of minutes of even more strained silence, the boys are only able to discern certain words that you’re positive don’t have anything to do with the asylum or ghosts. At long last, they shut the machine off and the room is once more plunged into a formidable silence so dense that you almost miss the spirit box. But almost as soon as the piece of tech has been silenced, does Jimin cry out in pure anguish. “What the fuck was that?”

The boys instantly round on their startled friend who is now cowering behind you. The colour has all but drained from his face, eyes wide in a frenzied panic.

“What’s wrong?” Namjoon asks.

Jimin looks hysterical as he shoves a pointed finger in the direction of the wall opposite the room in the corridor. “I swear on my life I just saw something move out of the corner of my eye over there. Like a-a person o-or something. Looked like a shadow. I don’t know! I thought it was one of you guys━”

“Stop it, Jimin.” Your voice treads on apprehension as you look over at the alarmed boy. “You’re scaring me.”

“Yeah, ease up, Jimin,” Namjoon says, though he seems more entertained than anything. “I’d prefer if you didn’t throw my girlfriend headfirst towards a demon or ghost or whatever it is you saw.”

“Joon.” His name rolls off your tongue in a scolding moan as you rub wearily at your eyes. His words do little to help console you, and you’re certain it fairs even worse for poor Jimin.

“I’m sorry. I just━” Jimin pulls you tighter in front of him. “I swear I saw something. Holy shit.”

Jungkook’s the first one outside the room, his own camera in his hands as he goes to investigate. As the rest of the boys file outside in the corridor, you drag Jimin along with you, favouring not to be alone in any part of the building. You can hardly see anything, let alone a shadow.

Jungkook turns back around at long last, a devious grin on his face as he finds Jimin’s wandering crazed stare. “Maybe it was the shadow man. Told you he exists.”

“I don’t care what it was. My heart almost fell out of my ass,” Jimin gasps. He clutches at his chest over his heart, for added emphasis. “Let’s get out of here.”

You aren’t quite sure if the boys believe him, but you do notice how quick they are to move on from the room and corridor. A palpable tension hangs heavy in the air that makes you realize perhaps the boys are starting to lose their cool under pressure.

As you reconvene below on the main floor of the building, Namjoon pipes up. “Let’s split up. See if we can find anything on our own.”

“Okay, Scooby Doo,” Jin snorts. “You do know that this is how every horror movie begins, right? There’s power in numbers.”

“Yeah. Which is what we’ll all be saying when this video reaches trending on YouTube with a million views,” Namjoon says, matter-of-fact. “Which we can only do if we get some interesting content. So, let’s split up into pairs of two. We’ll meet back here in an hour.”

“We could just fake it,” Jimin suggests desperately. “Like every big YouTuber does. The magic of editing, guys.” But no one seems to be listening anymore as the group begins to splinter off. Yoongi and Jungkook decide to venture back upstairs in pursuit of the elusive and supposed shadow man, while Hoseok and Taehyung wander outside. Lost and dumbfounded, Jimin gawks around at his retreating friends, calling out in one last effort, “Anyone? …No? Okay, cool.”

He nearly lets out a yelp when Jin clasps a hand on the boy’s shoulder in a reassuring manner. “You’ll be okay, Jimin. C’mon, let’s go.”

Finally alone with Namjoon, he offers up his outstretched hand to you. You take it at once, gripping his palm a little tighter than necessary as he pulls you towards him.

“You doing okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” You lie, even though you know he can see right through it.

You’re content to find that he at least keeps your hand in his even as he tugs you along with him to explore the rest of the asylum. You decide to leave the building you’re both in and wander to another one where you stumble upon Hoseok and Taehyung on the main floor briefly. Then, making your way upstairs, you find nothing out of the ordinary but empty rooms that you suspect were once upon a time sleeping quarters for the patients. It’s less frightening than the other buildings, though still a little unnerving the longer you stay to explore. You climb the stairs until you’re on the third landing and inspect almost every room to find nothing.

At some point, you let out a wavering sigh. Namjoon is busy waving around an EMF reader in a room. It’s empty aside from a dusty cot and a broken wardrobe, amongst a few other oddities covered in a thick layer of cobwebs and dirt. You could have sworn you’ve heard footsteps in almost every room you’ve entered that wasn’t either yours or Namjoons, and the strange sensation that you’re being followed hasn’t been able to shake from you. “Joon? Can we go back now? I’m starting to get a little spooked.”

Namjoon comes to a halt at once, turning around to face you. He gives your palm a comforting squeeze. “Hey, you’re okay. There’s nothing to be scared of. I don’t mean to sound like Yoongi but I highly doubt we have to worry about any ghosts.”

“Well, what do you think Jimin saw?”

“Who knows?” Namjoon shrugs. “It was probably just his imagination. Your mind plays tricks on you in the dark, doesn’t it? Here, let’s talk about something else to distract you.”

“Like?”

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as Namjoon considers another thought. You don’t even realize the smug smirk unfurling on his face until it’s too late. “Well… I had an idea earlier. Just a passing thought, really, but I bet it’d be fun anyway.”

“What was it?”

“We could probably have a quickie in one of these rooms and the boys would never know any different.”

You nearly choke at this, sputtering for air as you reach out to flick Namjoon’s shoulder. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No,” You admit sheepishly. He places his hands on your hips then, pulling you delicately towards him in a manner that makes it hard to focus now. “But I don’t know how I feel about ghosts watching us. Also, the couple that has sex in any horror movie usually ends up dying first.”

Namjoon shakes his head at you, albeit a little amused at your worrisome thoughts. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you. At least not while I’m here.”

“Coming from the man who tripped going up the stairs at your dorm the other day,” You point out tauntingly. The distant reminder and the sound of his abrupt laughter is enough to momentarily soothe your hammering heart.

Namjoon gasps, feigning a look of mock hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean!”

“Means I love you very much but I don’t know how well you’d fair against ghosts or demons.”

“Ahh, I see how it is.”

He sounds mildly offended and pokes his fingers at your sides but, in the ensuing scuffle to flee from his grasp, the both of you trip and fumble until you’re pressed up against the nearest wall, the sound of your snickers like music to his ears. He comes colliding against your front, hands digging into your hips. He leans forward to kiss your lips slowly, feeling you smile against him. A delightful chuckle bubbles at your mouth and he parts from you in the next moment wiggling his brows suggestively while a teasing smirk stretches at his face so wide, his dimples start to poke through.

“Wanna?” he asks.

It’s a simple question, weighing heavy with dirty implications ━ and honestly? You’re kind of into it. Or maybe that’s just because he returns to kissing at your lips, only this time at the corners of your mouth, then the underside of your jaw. Tantalizing motions that seem to make your head spin violently. Your head lolls back against the wall behind you as he droops his head to your neck, lips meeting with the soft flesh of your throat to suck a delicate blossoming hickey there.

“Okay,” You rasp, “so maybe we can spare some time for this.”

“Ah, so now you’re interested.” His voice is huskier now, muffled by the way he busies himself by nipping at the same spot on your throat. He hears your breath hitch, feels the way you part your legs just slightly enough to have him sink further against you. He marvels at your decision in the morning to throw on a skirt and a pair of thick wool tights. At the time, you had said it was because the weather wasn’t too brisk outside just yet; now, he was thanking you silently for unknowingly picking just the right outfit for the occasion.

“Namjoon…” Your voice is strained now, a mix between a plea and a whine and he grunts against your neck.

It takes Namjoon a moment to rack his brain, realizing that he finds it hard to even form a proper sentence anymore. “Don’t even need to feel my dick in you. Just wanna get you off, baby. Can I?”

You’re already practically drooling. “Think the boys will notice if we’re gone a little longer?”

“Who cares?” Namjoon quips. “Jimin’ll probably think we got possessed and lost in the demon world or something.”

You giggle, though your voice splinters off into a soft moan as he continues to nip and suck at your neck. His hand falls to your thighs then, fingers brushing upward faintly until he meets the short hem of your skirt before disappearing beneath it. His hand comes to grasp at the delicate curve of your ass, his palm hot and firm against your soft flesh.

He groans into your neck. “Been dying all night to touch you.”

“Then don’t stop.”

If the way his hardening cock now forms against your inner thigh any inclination, you don’t think he has plans on doing so. Instead, you watch as he lifts his free hand to your mouth, fingers tapping at your lips in a wordless motion. “Open up.”

You do as you’re told, lips parting just enough to wrap around his two fingers. He gazes at you with hooded eyes as you suck at his digits, tongue laving against the sturdy form in your mouth until his fingers are coated thick with your saliva. His other hand, still attached to the rump of your ass, moves like water over your skin to your thigh once more, nudging you aside just enough, pinching delicately at the skin there; he pulls his fingers from your mouth then, then lets the same hand venture under your skirt in a similar fashion. He wastes no time in pushing aside the material of your panties, pressing his digits at your core, watchful eyes staying fixated on yours if only to watch your every expression. His dampened fingers slide over your folds, spreading them open, running across them, admiring the way your stickiness already forms between your legs.

“Joon…” You cling to him tighter, both to steady yourself against the sudden ministrations and to shield yourself more from view, though you’re certain there’s a slim chance the boys will come across you and Namjoon like this. You hope.

Namjoon’s fingers slip past your folds then, slow and steady as he feels the tight constricting walls of your cunt. You throb around him, thinking only of his cock, imagining the girth of it fitting snug deep within you. The similar stretch of your walls, the fluid motion of his length burrowing in and out of you, wrecking you into shambles. Now, Namjoon wriggles his fingers upward, scratching at a spot within you that has you writhing against him, the slick wetness of your arousal sufficiently coating his fingers. His thumb finds your clit then, running small circles against the small bundle of nerves.

“So wet,” Namjoon moans, resting his forehead against yours. He notes the way your teeth sink into your lower lip, and pulls his free hand out from under your skirt to tap his fingers against your chin. “Gonna moan for me, baby? Let the boys hear you? Maybe wake the dead?”

“You’re such a brat,” You simper through a shuddering breath, and if you weren’t so consumed by him then maybe you would have laughed at the joke he manages to squeeze in at the last moment. But he’s not wrong. What’s the point in keeping silent in an abandoned building that you’re positive only you and your friends are currently occupying? How much longer do you expect to keep quiet, when the way he’s making you feel begins to slowly burn at your insides?

He curls his fingers deep in you, and your jaw unhinges in a silent gap. You wonder how long you can last, face burning with every passing second as he fingers you closer and closer to your high. Your hips jut outward to meet his hand with every motion, grinding against his knuckles in a desperate need to get off. You’re shameless about it too, fingers gripping his shirt tightly, brows scrunched together in hardened dedication.

“Such a pretty little mess,” Namjoon hums. “Want you to cum on my hand, baby girl.”

“Fuck, Namjoon━” You whimper now, head lulling back as he twists his fingers further in you.

But, as soon as you do so, the echoing sound of footsteps has your eyes darting to the darkened corridor. You make out the sound of oblivious chatter, and the familiar voices of Taehyung and Hoseok echoing from somewhere down below. They must be two floors down, though you can hear them screaming at nothing in particular, except for a string of profanities that meet your ears.

“Jesus, fuck!” That definitely sounds like Taehyung, voice shrill with worry.

“Chill!” There’s Hoseok, but you think he was also screaming moments ago with Taehyung. “It’s just a spider.”

“I don’t care! Get it off of me!”

“Bunch of dumbasses,” Namjoon shakes his head rigidly, a fleeting grin forming on his face that is quick to fade as he curls his fingers upwards further into you. And, while your attention is somewhat fixated on the boys, you find yourself treading a fine line of not giving a fuck as Namjoon’s fingers stay buried deep within your cunt. Still, Namjoon can sense the slight urgency in your demeanor when your hands wind around his neck to tug at his hair, as if to gesture to the strangers that he already knows are nearby.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs reassuringly, voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re doing so good, love.”

He slows his fingers almost to a halt as you burrow your face in the crook of his neck. Your walls continue to clench around his fingers, and he adds a third finger to stretch you out just enough in a teasing leisure manner. He does it on purpose too, this much you know for certain, as he pinches playfully at your waist. It’s lewd, the idea of him fingering you out in public like this but the emboldened adrenaline coursing through your veins doesn’t want him to stop. By now, your high overwhelms everything else, causing you to writhe against Namjoon as he cradles you to him. You cum moments later, your orgasm overcoming you before you can sense it, trembling beneath his hands as he continues to finger you through it. Warm, wet arousal leaks from your core, coats his fingers all over as a punctuating whimper of his name tumbles from your lips.

“That’s it, baby,” he says gently. “Let everyone hear how dirty you are. Let it all out.”

Your thighs shake, squeezing shut around his hand, and all he can do is rub soothing circles into your hips with his free hand. He waits for your breath to steady, as the coil in your belly loosens, instead taking the time to admire you to your fullest, drunken hooded eyes glazed over in that perfect expression he loves.

“Want your cock in me now, Joon,” You whine breathlessly. The whining persistence in your voice excites Namjoon, only amplified tenfold by the way you begin nipping and sucking at his neck.

“Now?” he asks.

“Now.”

Almost instantly, there’s a noticeable shift in his expression, a shit-eating smirk tugging at his mouth. You smother the rest of it before it can become too smug, folding your lips over his. Still, he hums through your eager kissing, “Yeah? Gonna let me fuck you like this, love? Take you raw against this wall, right here, right now?”

“Yes, please,” You mewl. Growing restless, you beg silently, “Namjoon.”

“Better make it quick then, hm?”

You can only nod, still in a daze from the orgasm that still courses through your veins. Namjoon’s quick to oblige, pulling his hands from your heat and wiping your slick wetness off on his thigh. Clumsy hands between the both of you fumble to undo the button of his jeans, hastily undoing them just enough to free his straining cock from within. He wedges himself between your legs, hiking your skirt farther up your thighs, and he hurries to free his length from its confinements, wild locks spilling out onto his forehead and into your own line of sight. You push his hair up and away from his face, though your fingers grip suddenly at the roots of his locks when he grips your thigh and hoists it up to his hip, and then pushes himself into you at once, the tip of his warm cock easily coaxed by your already wet walls. He moans into your neck but muffles it halfheartedly by kissing along your throat.

“Easy there, boy,” You snicker, though your own words are a weak drunken slur, drowning out into a muffled whimper as he thrusts himself into you all the way. His hips meet yours roughly, grinding against you as your walls stretch around his throbbing cock.

“I’m needy,” he whines. “Just wanna feel you around me.”

He wastes no time in moving again, pulling his hips back only to thrust into you, adopting a steady fluid pace in such a way that has your head lolling back against the wall, and your mouth popping open in a silent moan as you shift beneath him. The wall of the building behind you is rough and jagged but you don’t feel it, not with the way he continues to thrust into you. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh, stretching you apart in such a way that has him pummeling his length into your core just right.

“Fuck,” he grunts into your neck. Impatient hands move to yank your shirt up to your chest, pulling your bra down just enough for your breasts to pop out. He moves to leave a wet trail of kisses to your breasts, catching one of your nipples between his teeth and sucking harshly at it. The new sensation has your own walls clenching around him, and he almost comes undone then. Against your chest, you can hear him murmur breathlessly, “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

“Mmm,” You tug harshly at the roots of his hair. An unabashedly loud moan nearly tumbles from your lips before you can bite it back. Elsewhere, you can hear the sound of faint footsteps once more in the far distance, Taehyung and Hoseok much closer this time (quite possibly on the same floor as you, but the opposite end), but you don’t seem to care much anymore about the potentiality of being caught. “Fuck, Namjoon━”

“You like being fucked like this?” he rasps. “Out in public, for anyone to see?”

You feebly muster a nod, lips parting in a silent moan safe for the sound of your hot panting in his ear. Hurried yet deep shuddering strokes, he fucks into you again and again until your head is spinning. Every thrust sends a jolt up your spine and, still riddled by your first high, your body is quick to turn into shambles beneath him. Your hands flail outward to grasp onto every inch of his body, hands slithering beneath the material of his shirt, fingernails to dig crescent shapes into his torso, then snaking downward to grasp at his bum, pulling him in closer each time he rolls his hips into yours.

“Joon…” Your voice is an exhausted moan when it meets his ear. He almost doesn’t hear it, instead too caught up in the way your panting breaths mingle with the crude wetness of his cock delving past your folds each time. Somewhere, once more, in the distance even closer this time is the sound of footsteps once more. The thought of someone walking in one you like this━Namjoon wedged between your thighs, drilling his leaking cock into your wet cunt and tearing you to utter shambles━does something chaotically good to you. “Not gonna last.”

“Me neither,” he gasps. “Don’t care. Just wanna cum. Just wanna feel you cum around me.”

His thrusts begin to tread into sloppy territory, fervently itching to get both of you off. You reach your second high first, tumbling towards it with open arms. You can’t contain yourself, the tempting moan dancing upon the tip of your tongue, burning in your throat as your orgasm twists at your belly. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna━”

But your voice splinters off into a delicious sounding whimper. Wary of being caught by your wandering friends when you’re both so close to being undone (because, really, the idea of someone else hearing you whimper because of how good his cock is exhilarates him), Namjoon’s hand clamps over your lips and you welcome it graciously, favouring the idea of his fingers poking into your mouth so that you have something to distract your moaning. It still comes, broken and inaudible, smothered by Namjoon’s hand, as your tongue lavs around his digits.

Now, you’re truly a sight to behold, making Namjoon’s length twitch amongst your walls. Exhausted, fucked out eyes gawk at him, too weak to carry on, instead jutting your hips forward to meet his with each thrust.

“Shit,” he whines. “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N━”

He comes moments later, frantic slaps of his own hips having him spilling his seed sloppily into your already wet cunt. The abrupt sensation as your own walls clenching so impossibly tight around him, he feels as if he can’t move, though it’s not as if he immediately plans to. Instead, after a few more rocky thrusts into you to ride out both of your highs, he collapses against your chest and you smooth your fingers delicately through his hair.

It’s a miracle when you both manage to finally pry themselves off of one another. As Namjoon hurries to tuck himself back into his jeans, you fidget with your bra and shirt, and then the hem of your skirt, tugging it as low as it can go. His cum is still warm and sticky between your legs, slowly beginning to run down your inner thighs.

You catch him looking at some point and ask curiously, “What?”

“Nothing,” he says innocently. “Just wondering how you still manage to look so beautiful even after having my cum fucked in you.”

You roll your eyes as you reach out to ruffle his messy hair in an attempt to tame the damage you’ve caused. He smiles wide at the effort anyway.

“Decent?” he asks.

“Good enough,” You say. “Now, let’s find the boys before anyone notices we were gone for too long.”

And this, he doesn’t disagree with.

Later, when you and Namjoon have regrouped with the rest of the boys back by the cars parked outside the asylum, everyone looks a little more on edge than when you left them. Except for maybe you and Namjoon. You wonder if the boys notice, judging by the way you and Namjoon keep giggling amongst yourselves.

“So,” Jungkook says, “did you guys find anything?”

“Nothing,” Jin admits. “Just freaked out Jimin a little bit more.”

The boy in question can be seen scowling to himself, arms folded over his chest. “All I gotta say is screw this place.”

Hoseok looks indifferent as he reviews a recording on the camera in his hands. When he speaks, his voice is a casual drawl. “Dunno. Thought we heard some suspiciously loud moaning from one part of that building that I’m almost positive Namjoon and Y/N were exploring.”

At this, Taehyung bursts out into wolfish laughter, only prompted further by your sudden horrified expression that you try to play off nonchalantly and fail miserably at doing. So they had heard you two after all? “Ha! They sure were exploring something.”

While the rest of the boys look either intrigued or rightfully confused, Namjoon shakes his head defiantly. “Nah, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Resisting the urge to hide behind your hands, you bite your tongue and try to sift through your brain for something else to discuss. Over the childish giggling sounding from Taehyung and Hoseok, you ask, “Well, did you guys find anything? Thought we heard you exploring the third floor.”

“Third floor?” Hoseok echoes, dumbfounded. “We didn’t get that far.”

“But I could have sworn I heard you guys.”

Hoseok’s brows knit together. He exchanges a look with Taehyung, then returns his stare to you. “You probably heard Tae screaming like a lunatic because a spider was on him. We were only in there long enough to try the spirit box out again, but that was on the second floor. Then the spider thing happened. Then, we left.”

Now, this is alarming. You gap at the boys as your mind tries to piece together the puzzles of this dilemma. Had you heard the boys, or perhaps something else entirely? Or maybe it was just your imagination. Namjoon did say your mind plays tricks on you ━ but the sound of footsteps had been so vivid.

Even Namjoon looks stupefied, gawking at Hoseok. “Wait, you’re not joking, are you?”

“No,” Taehyung shakes his head. “We were filming the whole time. We can show you. Are you guys joking?”

“No,” You promise. “We were━ Erm━ We got distracted. We weren’t really paying much attention but━”

You’re fortunate when Yoongi decides to speak up, interrupting your embarrassed stammering. “So then what did you guys hear…?

A beat of silence passes amongst your group of friends. One-by-one, you each turn to look up at the haunting asylum still standing behind you, the night blurring its shape into one incomprehensible monstrosity. Okay, so maybe the ghost stories about this place are true. A shiver runs down your spine.

Then━

“So does that mean the ghost is a Peeping Tom or━?” Jungkook asks. You wonder if you should be concerned by his serious tone.

The boys howl with laughter at the thought, though you’re still admittedly a little shaken up by the idea of a ghost watching you and Namjoon bone. Maybe you asked for it, what with deciding to have a quickie in a haunted asylum.

“I don’t know, but can we please get out of here?” You press thinly. “Jimin was right. Screw this place.”

If the boys are as deeply unsettled by yours and Namjoon’s sudden revelation, you don’t know. You all manage to pack up your belongings and clamber in the cars in record timing, speeding away from the asylum unscathed. And if you really did just witness a ghost encounter, then you suppose it isn’t all that bad.

At the very least, Namjoon’s video does make it to the trending page.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

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clown-of-rivia · 4 years

Text

In his 300 years Jaskier has perfected being able to hide his true nature. Not even his closest friends knew that there was more to the clumsy charming bard than meets the eye.

He had managed to make a lifestyle and rhythm for himself, and worked very hard to keep it that way. He was happy. He was safe. He was normal.

As normal as a Higher Vampire can be.

Till he met Geralt

____

Being an extremely rare and dangerous race, very little is known of higher vampires. They keep to themselves and are highly secretive. They can pass as human and hide their powerful abilities rather easily, and often do, living for decades amongst them without suspicion.

They were inhumanely fast, could behead a man with a single swipe, and could regenerate from a single piece of flesh back into their normal state. They were, essentially invincible. But they had one weakness. They had to feed.

It was their biggest secret, closely guarded. If a higher vampire was starved for too long from human blood they would grow weaker and weaker until they start to transform. They become feral and lose all reasoning, not being able to retract to their calm state, permanently becoming bloodthirsty killing machines that could usually only be killed by one of their own kind. Human blood was therefore more than just a delicacy, it kept them healthy, powerful, and most importantly, sane.

There was another well-kept secret to higher vampires, although it had been speculated by experts throughout the years. Being as complex and powerful as they are, each higher vampire had a special ability, often completely unique.

So did Jaskier.

Jaskier was able to hypnotise. Although he was careful not to use his talent when performing, it was a necessary part of his life. You see, Jaskier was a bit of a slut. Or that is how people thought of him with how often he took someone to bed. He hardly even had to try, his paramours usually approaching him with their proposition.

There was some truth in the rumours, he did get proposition very often, and he accepted more often than not. However, only a small handful of those encounters ended in sex. Jaskier knew he had to feed, it was an unfortunately unavoidable part of his nature, no matter how much he hated it. So he developed an art out of it - returning the alluring looks, a saucy wink, and following an eager human to bed. He would serenade them then, softly, leading them into a calm hypnotic state. A gentle bite to their neck, careful not to injure more than absolutely necessary, he would take a few mouthfuls to keep him for the next few weeks. They always tasted so sweet, nothing like the sharp bitterness of a frightened human’s blood like what his parents had in their house. Calm and happy and aroused human blood was unparalleled to any other.

Once done and his brief intoxication passed, he would lull them to sleep with another song, replacing the blank memory with something happy and sweet, leaving them to blissful dreams. He carried a small pot of healing balm he would apply to the two tiny punctures, ensuring it would be gone by the morning. They would wake up happy, and be none the wiser.

Jaskier had no desire to ever outright harm, drain, or kill. It was what had isolated him from his family in the first place. Not even in self-defence would he resort to his vampiric abilities, knowing that no matter how he was harmed he would heal.

He just wanted to be happy, and to make others happy. He wanted to play his music, make friends, and enjoy life.

Then he met Geralt.

When he first approached the hooded stranger it was out of curiosity, and maybe hoping that with some eyelash fluttering he could score a free meal as he had been short on coin for a while. True, he didn’t need to eat, but he still liked to.

But then he saw the yellow cat eyes, the two swords, and the heavy armour.

Jaskier used his iron will he rarely relied on to keep his panic down, knowing Witchers could smell such emotions.

Despite the risk, Jaskier was short on material for his songs, and when the Witcher pointed out the inaccuracies, he decided he had a new goal. Stick to the Witcher. (as long as he could)

He had been sure Geralt would figure it out, soon rather than later. But he didn’t. Jaskier had spent centuries perfecting his cover, so knowing it paid off to such a test was delightful. So he stayed and followed.

At first it was for inspiration, then for adventure, then for friendship, then for happiness...and now it was for love.

It developed slowly, this ‘thing’ between them. Warm golden eyes on him when he laughed, sitting pressed together next to the fire, getting one bed despite having enough coin for two, excuses to touch, and sharing a bedroll ‘for warmth’ despite it being a warm night. It was soft shy smiles and gentle lingering touches. It was new and fragile and made his heart feel alive in a way that it hadn’t...maybe ever. He kept it close to his heart, shielded it from the elements, nurturing it and watching it bloom. Both welcomed this unspoken change between them, this new happiness and warmth. By now it was more like playful teasing, seeing which of them would snap first and take that final step, to seal their lips and finally confirm their relationship.

But as with all things in Jaskier’s life, happiness just wasn’t that simple. He still had to feed. He used to break away for a week or so every few months for that exact purpose, but had grown reluctant to leave his Witcher. When he suggested he needed to attend to something, Geralt shyly asked if he could come with, clearly not wanting to be without him either.

So he was torn between the the way seeing Geralt smile at him made him feel like he could burst with happiness and love, and the way he could feel himself grow weaker, see himself getting more pale and gaunt.

Geralt became more and more worried as the weeks passed. Worried looks turned to carefully asking if he was okay, to firmly demanding he eat and sleep more and ride on Roach instead of walking. He refused Geralt’s offers to take him to a healer, because obviously the bard had something serious, until the offer became a threat. Jaskier knew he was running out of time.

So he waited for an opportunity. They were in a new town and Geralt had just left on a contract and wouldn’t be back till morning. That night Jaskier mustered all his strength and charm to sing, then accepted the flirtations of the comely barmaid. He hadn’t realised how truly starved he was till the taste of her sweet blood knocked him out and he awoke to morning’s early light. She was still thankfully sleeping blissfully, so he quickly applied the balm and hummed a tune and watched a smile spread on her lips.

He sneaked into the corridor, careful to quietly close the door behind him. He had just turned, fixing his sleep wrinkled shirt with his doublet in hand when he heard a crash and looked up.

A stake to the heart would've hurt less than the look of wounded betrayal on the Witcher's beautiful face. At his feet lay two plates of food, breakfast he was bringing to what he had assumed would be a sleeping sick bard in their bed.

“Geralt, this isn’t-” he started, his eyes desperately imploring as he reached for his Witcher, but the man only made a choked sound, taking a step back, then all but fleeing the inn.

Jaskier had never hated himself and his nature this much in all his years. And he had hated himself a lot in the past.

They never spoke of it. But things had changed once again. Only now it was cold. Distant. He couldn't explain to Geralt that these interactions were never sexual (he never - not once - took sexual advantage of a hypnotised paramour), hasn’t been in years, or why he had to do it. That would also mean Geralt finding out the truth about him. The entire truth.

Whether it be about lying for 20 years or being a vampire- either or both would have Geralt leaving him. Even kill him. He couldn’t bear the thought of parting from Geralt, just the thought left him feeling empty, lost, and hurt.

Still, Geralt didn’t turn him away. He didn’t tell him to leave, didn’t disappear in the night, or ride off with Roach at a speed he couldn’t keep up. He took the cold silence and clear muted pain on his beloved’s face as his punishment. He would do anything fo this man. Anything to make up for the hurt, even if Geralt never looks at him with a smile on his lips and affection in his eyes again.

So Jaskier decided to give up feeding.

At 327 he has lived a full life. He had lived and laughed and loved and lost, more than he could ever have hoped for. He use his remaining time to write as many songs as he could that would become his realy immortality once he is gone, that would remind the world that his Witcher was kind, noble, and brave. That would make life easier, even just a little. He would follow Geralt as long as he could until he grew too weak to walk, then go off on his own to put an end to himself before he hurts anyone.

And if he turns before that...well. At least Geralt would be there to put him down.

#the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #netflix the witcher #geraskier #julian alfred pankratz #vampire!jaskier #non human jaskier #my writing #vampire au

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peterpparkrr · 3 years

Text

irreconcilable differences

Series: Infinite universes (pt. 3)

Paring: Loki Odinson x reader

Summary: Now that Reader been apprehended alongside Loki by the TVA, her plans are going to be irreversibly changed. She travels through time (some more) and finds herself reckoning with her past, present, and future in ways she hadn’t planned.

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: swearing, brief mentions of death, canon-typical violence

A/N: Work is insane but I have a little bit more free time so hopefully I can post more stuff. I’m already working on pt 4 of this and also trying to figure out how/if to end this series so if you have an thoughts pls let me know!

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

Pompeii, 79.

You go with Loki and Mobius on their little field trip to Pompeii. An experiment to test Loki’s new theory that nexus events can’t happen in apocalypses, there’s nothing that can be done to change a world that is about to end. You hate to admit it. But it makes sense. It’s probably one of the best plans that Loki’s ever come up with.

You can’t help but smile as Loki dramatically releases the cart of goats and dramatically declares himself a time traveler from the future bringing news of their imminent destruction.

As the people of Pompeii scream and run away you laugh at Loki as he enjoys the moment far more than any sane person ever should.

You giggle like a maniac as Loki suddenly takes you by the hand and twirls you around as the ash and smoke from the volcano begin to fall from the sky around you.

You’re not sure why he does it. And neither is he.

It’s… nice. It’s almost enough to convince you that you’re okay. That this is okay.

Alabama, 2050.

Your stupid, standard-issue TVA jacket with “VARIANT” plastered across the back matches Loki’s. Though, once you step inside the retail store where the TVA’s readings suggest the other Loki Variant is hiding, Loki’s jacket is once again dry while you're forced to shuffle around in soaking wet clothes.

As you take in Roxxcart™ -the Walmart of Earth’s near future- there’s a moment of joy as you wiggle your fingers at your sides and realize that you have your powers back, now that you’re no longer in the liminal space that is the TVA.

You consider it for a moment, giving your powers a little test run on one of the unsuspecting civilians around you, or maybe even on one of the TVA agents that have been giving you and Loki so much grief, but think better of it, instead focusing on the task at hand, finding this hidden Loki.

However, things pretty much immediately go off the rails as the team splits up and you’re left to wander the deserted aisles of Roxxcart alone, unaware that in the rest of the store things are going to absolute shit.

You try to talk him out of it, you really do, you try to give him the look, the wide, innocent eyes that would convince another Loki to change his mind. A look that a different Loki, your Loki would do anything to see wiped from your face.

There’s a moment of hesitation his part. A brief moment when you think that maybe you can convince him to stay.

“Loki… no,” You whisper softly. So softly you’re not sure you even hear yourself.

You should have known. You should have known that not-Loki would do this. That he would betray you. That he would betray Mobius. He’s not yours. He’s not yours. He’ll never be yours again.

So you let him. You let him go.

And then, in a half-second of divisiveness, you do something even you weren’t expecting to do.

You follow them.

Lamentis-1, 2077.

A female Loki.

You’re not all that surprised by her.

She asks you to call her Sylvie.

Just like Loki, she doesn’t know you. She doesn’t know how deeply intertwined your story is with hers, well, how in a different world, a world without the TVA, you might have even been lovers.

But that feeling gets less suffocating the more time you spend with the two of them. You begin to realize that these two are their own individuals - outside of the expectations that you’ve placed on them.

And you’re spending a LOT of time with them.

The three of you are trapped in an apocalypse together after all.

You’re walking alongside the train tracks, trying to get to the city, to get on the ark, and to survive. The involuntary deboarding of the train still stings.

Sylvie walks ahead of you and Loki. She’s calmed down slightly since the destruction of the TemPad. Another failure that threatens to break the already tense alliance the three of you had formed. But she still requires some space.

You cast a side-long glance at Loki as you walk in step.

“When… you said that I saw you die,” You say slowly, struggling to frame your thoughts into coherent sentences, “What did you mean by that?”

You’re not entirely sure what you’re trying to ask, but ever since Loki’s comment back at the TVA headquarters, you’d been unable to shake the feeling that Loki wanted to talk to you about it, to know who you were.

“Well, Mobius was considerate enough to show me a tape of my life’s greatest moments, concluding with the showstopper that was my death,” Loki replies impassively. “And you were there, with my brother, trapped as Thanos killed me.”

“You seemed quite distraught at the whole thing, screaming and crying,” Loki adds lightly.

“Yeah,” You reply quickly as you glance away from him.

“So how do we come to know each other?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” You reply honestly, “Thor brought me to Asgard and the two of us became close.” You leave out the fact that Thor brought you to Asgard so that you could meet with Frigga, that you had already watched Loki die once before Thanos, when fighting Malekith, or even that you’d helped Thor and Loki defeat Hela and bring about Ragnarok. Those memories, the details of your real story with Loki are still to painful to talk about.

Thankfully Loki seems to sense your discomfort with talking about it, and doesn’t press you further about it.

Once your trio got into the city you realized that getting to the ark was going to be more difficult than you expected.

The whole place was crawling with desperate people who were scrabbling to try and get on the ark, and there were just as many guards keeping these citizens from getting any closer to the ark.

You, Sylvie and Loki shared a look as you all realized that it was going to take some quick thinking and a bit of a fight to get you all on the ark.

The three of you take off, knowing you’ll have to run if you want to have any chance of getting the ark to take off before the impending destruction of this moon.

As you dodge and weave through the crowds and buildings several guards try and stop you. Loki and Sylvie are quick to fight them off, leaving very little of the fight to you.

It’s not until you’ve all been nearly crushed by a falling building that Loki manages to keep from falling on top of you that the three of you are ambushed by a large group of guards.

You see four of them immediate go for Sylvie, threatening to overtake her before you or Loki could even get to her.

Without thinking you stick your hands out in front of you channel all of your focus and energy into the blood pumping through their veins before you methodically press your palms downward, causing each guard around you to collapse to the ground.

“What…” Sylvie gasps breathlessly as she looks up at you, “How did you-”

“Are you certain you are not a goddess?”

Your breath catches in your throat as your head whips to stare at Loki where he’s standing next to you. He... Oh my god.

“And are you quite certain you are not a goddess?” Loki asks as he watches the bodies of the men around you fall to the ground, your hands stretched out in front of you.

You look over at him with just as much surprise as Loki knows is showing through his own carefully constructed facade.

You. You are powerful. Far more powerful than any Midgardian he has ever seen. More powerful than any of those other Avengers.

You could be very useful to him. He ought to keep you around.

Now it makes sense.

“No time to explain!” You shout as you grab hold of Loki with one hand and Sylvie with the other, “We gotta go!”

You’re all still running as the ark gets closer and clothes, until a massive chunk of planet suddenly comes crashing down from the sky, cutting into the ark and smashing it to pieces before you can even register what happened.

“So this is how it ends?” You ask softly as you sit between Loki and Sylvie, the three of you staring up at the sky above you as Lamentis continues to break up and crash into the moon all around you.

As the three of you accepted your fate you reached your hands to the people on your other side and squeezed their hands tightly.

You should have been afraid, you should have been very very scared by the reality that your death was imminent. But instead you just felt relieved. You were almost thankful that you didn’t have to continue on, to keep on living.

You turned to Loki, and found his eyes already on you. He lightly squeezed your hand and you opened your mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by the metallic shimmer of three Timedoors opening behind you.

#loki #loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki reader insert #loki drabble #loki odinson x reader #loki layfeyson x reader #loki series #sylvie laufeydottir #mobius m mobius #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel one shot #marvel oneshot

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quicksilversquared · 4 years

Text

Superhero Salary

It all started with a joke. It ended with Ladybug and Chat Noir finally getting some of the compensation that they deserved.

After all, fame isn't going to pay the bills.

links in the reblog

It all started with a (mostly) joking comment from Chat Noir, blurted out in a moment of frustration.

"I hate it when that happens," he had grumbled after Ladybug knocked him free from the akuma's control. "Stupid, stupid mind-control akumas. Tell Hawkmoth that if he's going to insist on akumas like that, he's gonna have to pay for my therapy after this is all over!" he hollered after the akuma, who was clearly hopping mad about no longer having a superhero under his control. "A superhero salary doesn't exactly pay enough for it!"

He had been kidding, at least mostly. Kidding or not, though, the complaint was out there.

The moment had been picked up by the Ladyblog, of course, just as part of the bigger fight. But it wasn't long before it absolutely exploded over the internet.

Sure, maybe in comic books it was implied that superheroes always worked for free. But was that really fair? After all, Ladybug and Chat Noir were providing a service to the city. They were taking the time out of their normal lives to save Paris and put things back to rights, and they were doing it often. They had to come out whenever Hawkmoth sent out an akuma, not just when they had a spare bit of time that they could use to fight crime. Just like policemen and firefighters, they were putting themselves in danger by fighting on the front line. And if they were in jobs, or were in school- well, having to duck out regularly had to be affecting them, and not in a positive way.

If they had jobs, they could very well be on the edge of losing them because of all of the times they went missing. Even if they were self-employed- well, then they would still be losing out on some serious work time and having to work late into the night instead. And if they were in school...

Then they would be in danger of falling behind and need help to keep on top of their schoolwork. Tutors and online courses both cost money.

And on top of all of that, there was superhero merchandise being made using their colors and images, clothes and dolls and souvenirs and toys. Surely they should be getting a cut of the profit from that.

With only a few exceptions, Paris was soon in agreement: their superheroes needed to be earning a salary.

Marinette wasn't quite certain what to think of it all.

"Tikki, what do I say if the mayor decides to give us a salary?" she implored, slumping back in her chair. "I mean, even if it would be possible to safely get the money, I just don't know."

Part of her wanted to do the noble thing and say no to a salary. After all, she was Ladybug because she wanted to help! Plus, would public perception of them change if they were technically city employees? The mayor might think that he had the power to call them up on command, which would really stink.

But- well, Marinette was a teenager, and no sane teenager would turn down money, particularly when it was money for work that she had done. Even though she wasn't exactly struggling- she got an allowance, plus money from babysitting Manon and of course commission money, and besides she was a teenager and not an adult with a million living expenses- having more money in her account for fabric or design classes or her future career wasn't a bad thing.

"Well, Plagg and I could certainly set things up so that all of the money you get would be funneled through us and our magic," Tikki told her. "And we would be careful about not matching up the amounts or making them regular! There's ways that we can do it without attracting attention."

Marinette nodded. That was one question answered, but the other?

"As for if you should take the money..." Tikki considered that. "I mean, there's a lot to consider. But I'd like to point out that you don't know how long you'll be fighting Hawkmoth, or if there'll be any other threats after he's gone to deal with. That could interfere with you having a regular job. And if the akuma attacks keep disrupting your school day and you need to hire a tutor to help you keep up but you don't want your parents knowing, having the extra money could help. Or if you decide to sign up for an online school so that you can look up lessons that you missed in class, you could pay for that! But people might have strong opinions about superheroes taking money, too."

"That's a lot of positives and only one negative," Marinette pointed out. "I mean, it could be annoying to listen to people judging, but unless they're in the majority..."

Either way, it was going to be disheartening to hear people judging her for taking the money. But as long as they weren't in her face or spreading lies about her and Chat Noir now not being motivated to take down Hawkmoth because that would mean an end to the money or something ridiculous like that, she could probably ignore it. Maybe she could make some donations with the money she was getting to dispel those rumors.

Honestly, she'd probably do that anyway. There were so many organizations and people in need in Paris, and if Marinette was earning money then of course she would want to support them.

Of course, that all depended on if the officials even offered the salary in the first place, which was honestly looking really likely. It looked like public opinion was strongly in their favor, and the mayor was seriously easily waived by public opinion most of the time. And anything to do with the superheroes- well, it was publicity gold.

And in the end, it only took a week of deliberations- entirely about how much Ladybug and Chat Noir should be making, and puzzling out how much of the profit from sales of their merchandise they should be getting on top of their salary- before the announcement went out that the superheroes would be offered payment. A day after that, Ladybug and Chat Noir accepted their salary and gave the city's head payroll officer the information their kwamis had given them for the kwami bank accounts, so that they could get their paychecks without risking their secret identities.

"I didn't expect things to blow up like this when I said that, about not earning enough for therapy," Chat Noir admitted after they had left. He had seemed put-together and confident when they were in the office- which Ladybug had appreciated, because the sums that were being discussed were absolutely intimidating and having Chat Noir being so confident next to her helped her not get flustered. "I mean, yeah, down the road, I wouldn't be surprised if I get nightmares about fighting all the time and need to get help with that, but- well, I don't think I'd be able to, not unless I sign up as Chat Noir instead of my civilian self. And I don't know if I would necessarily want to do that, in case too much civilian stuff comes out."

Ladybug winced. Yeah, that was a real concern. And- well, she didn't ever admit it to anyone other than Tikki, but she sometimes had nightmares about the fights, too. And Chat Noir was right- a therapist could probably help.

But the identity concerns...

It was more than likely that some personal information would come out if they were talking to any sort of therapist, and that was dangerous. Maybe the chance of their therapists stumbling on their identities was low, but she still couldn't risk it.

Maybe they could go out of Paris to find someone, using the Horse to jump. Then their therapist would be even less likely to make the connection between Ladybug and Marinette, and with the distance from Paris, having the superheroes in their office might be less exciting than it would be for someone who saw the superheroes on a daily basis. But even that wouldn't really be a possibility until Hawkmoth was gone, when they actually got some semblance of free time back.

"I can't deny that the money could be helpful, though," Chat Noir added after a moment. "I mean, depending on how long the conflict drags on, or if we need anything that Tikki and Plagg can't provide to help us, or- well, when I get old enough to move out of my father's place, I want to. There's way too many people who think that they can just barge into my room without warning and poke around, and- well, it's not safe."

Ladybug glanced over at her partner again. He looked like he was her age- in fact, they had shared enough information inadvertently that she was positive that they were probably a year apart at most- which meant that he was facing years of people disregarding his privacy and potentially discovering his secret. "That's ages away, though."

"I know. I can't do much about it right now, though, besides just paying attention to where I'm detransforming." Chat Noir sighed. "I guess the money can't really help with that, not right now."

"Yeah. And that's not great." Ladybug tapped a rhythm against her leg, trying to come up with a solution and finding none. She just didn't have enough information about the situation to find places where they could do something. "I mean, the most I can come up with is a camera that you could connect to and move around to see if anyone is in there before going back in. And you could see if anyone is coming around and poking around that you don't know about. But- well, the problem is that cameras can be hard to hide, and if your father finds out and decides to review footage..."

"It could backfire on me, really fast." Chat Noir glanced around, then back at her. "Yeah, I know. I guess- well, for now, I won't change anything. Maybe something will come up in the future."

"Yeah, I'm not going to be changing much either, I think. But it's nice to have that money there in case I need it." It made her feel a little weird, honestly- after over a year of volunteer superheroing, accepting money for that was just strange- but maybe eventually, it would sink in that she was doing a job and deserved pay for it.

Chat Noir nodded. "Just in case. And, well- if we don't use it, it'll be a good start for my retirement account!"

Ladybug laughed at that, the awkwardness and concerns that she had had earlier flying away in an instant. "Teenagers with retirement accounts. Who would have thought?"

"Well, you can never be too prepared, right?"

Ladybug giggled again, imaging the looks on her parents' places if she sat down for dinner and started asking questions about retirement accounts and for their advice in setting one up. Maybe it wouldn't be completely out of left field- after all, unlike most of her classmates, Marinette did earn money with commissions, and enough that she would not be spending it all- but it was also a strange thing for a teenager to ask about.

Well. At least it wasn't a bad problem to have.

A week later, Ladybug and Chat Noir officially received their first paychecks, with back payments pending. And by that time, the two of them had figured out where those payments were going.

Most of the money, of course, would be held in the kwami bank accounts until it could be trickled into their civilian bank accounts. How much, exactly, could be deposited without being noticed was still being decided- Ladybug could definitely get away with more than Chat Noir, though she figured that varying amounts and not at regular intervals would stick out less than regular payments. They were still trying to figure out how they might get retirement accounts going- even as much as they joked, it wasn't exactly a bad idea.

And then part of the money would go to charity. It was just a nice thing to do, after all, and since they had spare money- well, it would just be a good idea to help out a little bit more. They didn't want to make too big of a deal out of their donations, since it was very possible that people would judge where they were donating, how much they were donating, how often they were making their donations, and how their donations did or didn't change over time. There would no doubt be people petitioning the superheroes to support their favorite charities, which- well, maybe it would be a good way to learn about new causes, but it sounded like more stress than it would be worth. Besides, Ladybug and Chat Noir were private citizens behind the mask, and they deserved to have some privacy about their finances.

All they needed to tell the public was that they were donating anonymously and wouldn't be disclosing the places or amounts for those reasons. It was a simple answer, and should satisfy most of the population. There would no doubt be a few naysayers- there almost always were a few people who just had to be difficult- but it was a reasonable answer.

Thankfully, the person who had interviewed Ladybug and Chat Noir about what they were going to do with their first paychecks- a kind man from a mid-sized newspaper, who had earned the spot of first interview entirely because he hadn't been pushy about asking- had thought that their reasoning was plenty sound. They were hardly going to be millionaires, and so expecting them to donate large amounts on a regular (and frequent) basis was completely ridiculous. Keeping things private- well, that meant that people who were out of touch wouldn't be moaning about donations that they were perceiving as too small.

Just because Ladybug and Chat Noir were famous didn't mean that they were rich.

Marinette hummed quietly to herself as she skimmed the article that the reporter they had talked to had written. While the interview itself had taken place several days prior, the article had just been released that morning to coincide with both their first payment and the start of the month. It was very nicely written, and framed their reasoning in an even more clear and articulate light than they had managed themselves. She didn't doubt that it would get noticed soon, and then the speculation about whether or not Ladybug and Chat Noir would donate some of their earnings would be put to rest for once and for all-

"Wait, Ladybug and Chat Noir aren't donating any of their salary? That's so unlike them!"

-or maybe not.

"I was surprised too, they just completely brushed me off when I suggested that they donate part of their salaries," Lila told her audience as they swept into the room as a- well, as a flock, really, that was the only way to describe it. "It's what I would do if I was a superhero, of course, so I thought that they would feel the same! It's such a let-down, I really thought that they were better than that..."

"I would say that maybe it's because they've donated so much of their time to the city already, but I know I heard something at some point about backpayments to cover their time from the start," Alya commented, her eyebrows furrowed. "So that's not really donated time anymore, is it?"

"Maybe they have bills to pay," Rose piped up, clearly ever-hopeful. "And they need to get caught up with that first, of course. That would make sense!"

Of course, Lila was shaking her head as she headed up to her seat, with the rest of the group following not far behind to keep listening. "They're too young for bills. I met up with them again this morning and was trying to talk some sense into them because really, they could just do small donations, even a little bit helps- I would know, I've seen how far money can stretch and help in a charity! But even now that they have the money in their hands, they just want to keep it."

There were murmurs of disappointment all around the group gathered around Lila at that. Even though donations clearly weren't mandatory- well, they thought that the superheroes should be better role models than that! If they didn't have bills to pay, surely...

"And it's not like they're not getting enough to have both spending money and do a little charity," Lila said, shaking her head sadly. "Plenty of spending money, even! And I pointed that out, but they got really upset with me. I'd hate for our friendship to be destroyed over this really, but it's just- I feel like I don't know them at all now!"

Frankly, Marinette had heard enough. She wasn't going to let her reputation as Ladybug- or Chat Noir's reputation- get slandered by Lila's nonsense.

"Funny thing," Marinette commented in the most deadpan, disinterested voice that she could muster, not even taking her eyes off of her tablet as she talked. "You say that you met up with the superheroes this morning and they weren't interested in doing donations, and yet there's an article in La Trib this morning about an interview they did with the superheroes days ago that say otherwise. It says that donating was in their plan from the start."

The group in the back of the room went quiet.

"Marinette is correct," Markov commented after a moment, breaking the silence. "The article was posted one hour ago, though the paper copy presumably went out earlier. The superheroes stated that they have been looking at charities since they first heard that they might be getting money for their superhero work, as they wish to continue to help Paris. Their donations will be anonymous and private to protect their privacy and to prevent unwanted commentary on their choices."

Marinette glanced back. All eyes were slowly turning from Markov to Lila.

"There is also a video of the interview linked on the online version of the article," Markov added. "And the metadata confirms that it was filmed several days ago."

Several of the eyes pointed towards Lila were getting narrowed and suspicious.

"Oh, that- that's lovely!" Lila exclaimed, somewhat belatedly pressing her hand over her heart. "Maybe they were just trying to wind me up to tease me, then! And I misread the situation and took them seriously. Or they were trying to give me a pleasant surprise! It happens, sometimes- I'm not always great at catching sarcasm-"

This time, not everyone looked entirely convinced.

Smiling to herself, Marinette looked back at her tablet, closing out of the article and opening up their reading for Literature so that she could review it- or, well, finish reading it, because an akuma had interrupted her the previous night and it had been too late to pick it up again once the fight was over. If she hurried, she might be able to finish it before Ms. Bustier called for a start to class, and then she wouldn't get in trouble again for not doing her homework.

Honestly, if Lila's track record was anything to go by, she would probably wriggle her way out of the lie by the afternoon and the whole incident would be forgotten. But maybe this time would end up different- after all, Marinette had never seen that doubt before- and Lila's tower of lies would finally come toppling down. It was long overdue, really, but Marinette wasn't going to hold her breath.

If it happened...well, if their superhero salary was like a surprise cake, then a Lila downfall would be the cherry on top.

#Miraculous Ladybug #my writing #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #superhero retirement fund

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jadedxrealityw · 3 years

Text

-Fragile- George Weasley x Female Reader

☼-☪-☼

Kody: I know another George x reader, fight me. This is based around the quote “She was not fragile like a flower, she was fragile like a bomb” -Rahul Singh Rathour.

Summary: George Weasley falls for a Slytherin girl who was an expert at keeping her negative emotions hidden. He was her little light at Hogwarts and kept her sane for the most part. Until one day when she’s pushed over the edge.

House: Slytherin

Possible Triggers / Warnings: mental breakdowns, child neglect, manipulation, shit parents, panic attacks.

☼-☪-☼

She was not fragile like a flower, she was fragile like a bomb

maybe you should have seen a therapist when you were little. Bottling up emotions was considered self destructive by most sane people, but it had become second nature. Growing up with parents who were always fighting, you just learned to keep things to yourself, so you weren’t a burden.

it was odd, despite all the shit you were put through, you were still kind. You were still yourself. You found comfort in fellow housemates like Draco Malfoy. You avoided him since he seemed like a snob, plus he was younger then you, but all that changed once you found him crying in a broom closet.

the school year had only just started and he explained to you that his parents had been bickering with each other the whole time while shopping for new books. You didn’t speak a word of your family to him because you felt like it would take attention from his problem. You didn’t want to be selfish

you and Draco soon became friends after that, but even as you two grew closer you never told him about your problems. You continued to bottle things up, which didn’t make much sense, since you had someone to confide to, maybe you had gotten so used to hiding your inner demons.

you had heard of the Weasleys, pureblood family who had a lot of children. All of them different in so many ways, but exactly the same. The one who had caught your attention was George Weasley. Him and his brother were always up to something that involved a potion.

lucky for you, you were always brewing a potion when you had freetime. Due to all the stress and not having a way to let it go, you would make yourself a draught of peace to keep your emotions in order. it worked for the most bit, it only lasted a couple hours so you only took it during classes.

☼-☪-☼

6th Year

you were stirring your elixir with a utensil when the creaking sound of the door opening caught your attention. You look from the cauldron and towards two ginger haired twins that were giggling and whispering things to each other that you couldn’t hear.

“Alright you grab the stuff we need- oh”

both of them had looked up at you, freezing in there spots. “I’m guessing you're not supposed to be in here?” you spoke, going back to stirring. They both looked at each other before Fred Weasley spoke up “Your not going to say anything are you?”

you simply shrug your shoulders before placing the utensil on the table “I could care less, as long as you don’t say anything either” you say. The both of them grin before Fred goes to the cupboards to gather his needed ingredients, leaving you with George.

he casually steps over to you and leans over your shoulder to look into your cauldron. He didn’t have to lean at all actually, he was much taller then you. “A draught of peace? Feeling stressed lately?” he questions, cocking his head to the side in a curious manner.

stressed was an understatement , but he didn’t know that “Something like that” you respon, figuring if you gave him a vague answer he’d take that as a sign to leave you alone. George only seemed more curious “How mysterious” he mumbles lowly to himself before leaving you to your potion.

eventually you fill up about five vials full of potion and put your cauldron back in it’s respective area. Once you pocket the vials, you leave the twins to there mischievous task and you were on your way. That was your first encounter with George Weasley.

☼-☪-☼

five vials only lasted you a week, so later on a friday night you snuck out of your dorm and into the potions classroom. You had on a grey hoodie, black leggings, and fuzzy white socks, something you wore to sleep in. It was comfortable.

today was especially stressful for you because most of the Slytherin house was irritated, which meant they were short with there words and snappy. The twins had pulled a prank on the Slytherin house by leaving pastries for them inside the dungeon.

the Hufflepuffs would usually leave treats for Slytherins so it wasn’t strange, but it was actually a spiked cauldron cake that turned their hair different colors. You were one of the lucky ones since you had woken up late, never getting the chance to eat one.

once you entered the classroom, you were met with a ginger boy. George Weasley, the twin who kept his orange locks shoulder length. It was how anyone really told the difference between the two. Fred cut his long ago and George had not, pretty simple.

“Oh, you again. Hello” he spoke before going back to chopping up some ingredient. His casual tone ticked you off more than you’d like to admit and you just scoffed, going to collect your items. The wizard seem to notice your behaviour “Bad day?”

you grab the cauldron from the shelf, exhaling deeply “Yes actually. After the stunt you pulled on Slytherin” you reply, irritation seeping into your tone. A very cocky grin made a way onto his freckled face “Oh? Then maybe you shouldn’t have started it”

your grip of the cauldron tightened. Any tighter and you might smash it to pieces. Placing the cauldron down harshly, you turn your head to face him “Look whatever feud you have with a couple Slytherins isn't my damn problem, mess with them not the collective house. It’s rude”

as soon as you finished speaking you put your face in your hands. So much for not stressing out. You shake your head a bit to push away any remaining thoughts then go back to what you were doing, collecting whatever you needed. George on the other hand looked a mix between guilt and confusion.

he felt guilty because it was true, he could have just pranked the two or three Slytherins he was initially after, but he didn’t. He was confused because you had blew up on him so quickly, almost like you were holding it in for so long that it was waiting to be let out?

“i guess i got carried away this time. I apologize- wait what’s your name?” George suddenly asked, realizing he didn’t know who you were exactly. All he could guess was that you were Slytherin by your previous statements, which surprised him a bit since you seemed....nicer.

once you were settled at a table you looked up at the 6′3 boy “Y/n, i accept your apology, George Weasley” you say then look back down at the table. George lets out a small chuckle “I guess i don’t need to tell you my name then. I must be very popular then” You couldn’t help but snicker at his smugness.

“yeah i guess you are”

☼-☪-☼

7th Year

and ever since the beginning of sixth year, you’d meet George and sometimes Fred in the potions classroom to chat while you made potions. You loved the times you could hang out with twins, they always made you laugh when you had a bad day.

but you cherished the times you got George alone. you just connected with him a different way. Whenever you worked on a potion he would push your hair out of your face or stand behind you, looking over you shoulder. The small touch sent ripples through you that you had never felt before.

at first you thought maybe it was because you had thought of him as your friend, but whenever Draco or Fred had touched you you didn’t feel anything. Soon enough he started his casual flirting which included him complimenting your looks or how good you looked in a certain outfit.

it made your face feel hot and your stomach feel all queasy like you had bug or something, but you were never actually sick. After searching the library for possible answers you overheard Hermione Granger talking to Ginny Weasley, they were talking about what they felt when a certain guy talked to them.

increase in heart rate, sweaty palms, queasy stomach, etc. Then they said one thing that changed your perspective “Don’t you hate being in love with someone, it’s so heart wrenching” you spent the rest of that day in your dorm room stressing out like usual, but this time is wasn’t over your parents.

now you had two things on your mind, your parents and George. A weird mix for sure. You were in love with George? How could this of happened? but you knew exactly how this happened, that Weasley twin used his charms and good looks to seduce you.

what a bloody menace.

now you were sitting at the Slytherin table in the great hall. Draco sat next to you, chatting it up with Blaise and his boyfriend Theo. You were just about to take another bite of food when an owl, a familiar owl flew over the table. It had a letter in its claws.

once it passed over you it dropped the letter. You reach up and catch it in your hands “Ooo a letter” Draco comments, wiggling his eyebrows like a dork. You roll your eyes playfully and nudge his shoulder. He chuckles and turns back to face Blaise once again.

you turn the letter in your hands, the wax stamp catching your attention. It was the initial of your last name, which meant it was from your parents. Great. You pop off the wax seal and slip it into your robe pocket before taking the sheet of parchment out of the envelope.

‘Dear Y/n, your father and i have read your recent grades and we are utterly disappointed. You’ve only gotten an Acceptable in all your classes. Do you know how embarrassing it is to have a child who can not excel in anything? your the reason me and your father have been bickering so often. For the upcoming break you will be staying at Hogwarts and studying everyday and night. We also found a journal in your room with all the horrible lies you write about us. Don’t come back until you learn how to be a grateful daughter’

well that killed the mood. Why did they read your diary? What kind of parent does that? Was it really all your fault that your parents fought? “Aw poor Y/n? Do mommy and daddy not love you anymore? How does is feel princess?” you had almost forgotten that you were sitting next to her.

she was a Slytherin girl who didn’t like you because you weren’t a pureblood and because your parents only acted like they cared so much about you in public. You figured out quickly she was jealous of what she thought that you had, loving parents.

you neglected saying anything back to because you heard that her father was locked up in Azkaban a little while ago and admittedly felt bad for her, but for some reason the way she said it. The way she was so smug with her words just rubbed you the wrong way.

your whole life you’ve let every negative thought fester and build up like a disease. It was like a pot of boiling water that was about to bubble over and spill out. You hadn’t taken any draught of peace either in a couple hours because lunch was usually peaceful for you.

this poor girl was going to get the anger you’ve held since you were a child and you would feel guilty for it later, but the lid on your metaphorical bottle had popped off. You stood up from your seat and looked down at her, surprising her and Draco.

“Listen here you stuck up bitch, i can’t fathom a reason as to why you have to fuck with with me constantly?! You think this shit is a one time thing?!” you stop momentarily to throw the letter at her face. She swats it away, her face draining of color from embarrassment.

“Try living with them for 17 years and then you’ll figure out that they only act like your family in public! They send you huge gifts on your birthday to make sure other people see! You have no right to harass me like you do! I wish i had loving parents!”

the girl sat there stunned. What could she say anyway? That she was sorry probably, but you most likely wouldn’t have accepted that answer at the moment. You had caught everyone's attention at this point with your loud, harsh words. Even the bright honey colored eyes of George focused on you.

angry tears had forced their way out your E/c eyes despite your efforts in trying to hold them in. You look around the great hall, looking at all the eyes staring back at you. Without a second thought you rush out the great hall, hearing two distinct voices shout for you to come back.

☼-☪-☼

breathe

breathe!

why was it so hard to breathe? Were your clothes tightening or were the lungs in your chest failing on you. You rush outside into the empty courtyard, gripping your robe to tug it away from your skin almost as if it was choking you. You start to pull at your clothes more.

you remove your arms from the sleeves of your robe and drop it on the grass beneath you. Still couldn’t breathe. Reaching for the bottom of your vest you slip it up and over your head and drop it on top on your robe. Lastly, you tug at your tie to loosen it.

you were still hyperventilating.

“Y/n?”

turning around you saw the familiar honey colored eyes look down at you. A face of confusion and sadness n his freckled face. George Weasley. No, please you would only complicate your emotions more, but you wanted so badly to be his embrace at the moment.

he decided for you, cause as soon as he saw your tears. He felt his heart tug harshly.

“Oh darling” he started, his voice broken and raspy like he was about to break out in tears as well “Come here” he finished and held his arms out for you and that was enough for you. You rush into his embrace and are instantly meant with calming scent of burning wood, and wood from a broomstick.

your wheezing noise worried George and he started to rub your head “Darling you need to breathe okay? Your going to faint if you keep doing that, in and out okay?” he inhales loudly so you could hear and you copy his actions, doing the same when he exhaled.

after a couple minutes you were breathing just fine, but you still felt terrible. “Everything's all my fault. i tried so hard to be a good person, but it’s never good enough. I didn’t burden anyone with my problems and hid them away- i just couldn’t do it anymore”

your voice cracked, the lump in your throat going away. George pulled his head away that was resting on top of your hand and used one of his hands to gently force your chin up to look at him. He used the other hand to reach in his back pocket.

George pulls out the same folded parchment that you had read earlier “This? You believe this rubbish? Y/n you are the most interesting girl i’ve ever met and i wish you had told me about this. I’m your..friend and i want to help you. Listen, you are strong, brave, and anybody would be lucky to just breathe your air”

you cracked a small smile at his words which seemed to make his face light up as well. “Thank you George. I suddenly feel very faint” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Probably from crying so much darling. Let me take care of you for the rest of the day, okay?”

“Do i really have a choice?”

“Not really, no”

☼-☪-☼

George took you to his dorm- oh wait. he actually carried you to his dorm. He didn't want you to actually faint and hit your ‘pretty little head’ on the hard floor. His words exactly. The rest of the day was spent of him feeding and you and making sure you were hydrated.

after asking only once you opened up to him about your parents and there expectations. His face of horror was enough to make you realize that what was happening to you wasn’t normal. After you had finished talking it was almost like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders.

you felt free.

it was towards the evening time and you didn’t want to intrude any longer. “Thank you for helping me, it’s getting pretty late-” “You sound like your leaving?” George cut you off just as you stood up from his bed, looking at you with pleading eyes “Stay? Just for the night?”

“What if a professor sees me when i leave the next morning and where would i sleep?” you question, crossing your arms over your chest. George shrugs his shoulders “It's saturday tomorrow no professors will be checking and you’ll sleep in my bed, with me. I promise not to be to handsy darling”

a cocky smirk grew on his face, making your stomach twist and turn just like all the other times before. You began to stumble on your words “Uh- i- i don’t have anything to wear” you huff. His smirk seems to grow wider, if that was even possible.

“you can wear some of my clothes of course-” a knock cuts him off and he look towards the door “I’ll see who that is and send them away. You get dressed, i won’t peek” George sends you a cheeky wink before going to the door. what a dork.

nonetheless, you go over to his dresser and began to dig through the drawer while he went over to the door. Once he opened it, you couldn’t help but listen in. “Hey Freddie” George says in a sing song voice. Fred Weasley. “Hey, it’s saturday. Potion time”

potion time?- oh for pranks. Was he going to leave you to go make potions? you pick out a burnt orange jumper with a ‘G’ initial and black sweats “Actually i can’t tonight? Maybe tomorrow?” he replies, making Fred’s face twist in confusion before astonishment.

“Oh! You have a girl in there don’t you!” he said quite loudly, making George shush him quickly. You began unbutton your uniform shirt. “Lower your voice, i’m not tryin to get caught because of you” he replies. You place your shirt on a chair next to you and slip the jumper over your head. It was huge on you.

Fred stifles laughter and leans against the doorframe “Who is it” he says, making you freeze for a moment. George raises a brow “and why would i tell you that?” he questions while you push your skirt down your legs, kicking it away with your feet. “Oh because i’m your brother? Your twin brother George”

they were adorable. You pull the sweats on and tie the strings so it was resting snuggly on your hips. “yeah yeah whatever, bye Freddie” George begins to close the door “Aw come on don’t be like that-” he shuts the door on his brother and turns back to look at you.

“Sorry about that-” he froze in place, his eyes taking a mental image of how you looked. He could die at that moment and be content with life. You notice his weird face and looked down at the outfit “I’m sorry, should have i have picked something else?”

he didn’t say anything and just stepped towards you until he stood inches in front of you. He reaches up to grab your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. You also noticed a small smile on his face that was slowly growing into a grin. “George?” you ask, your voice a whisper.

he tilts his head a bit as his golden eyes scan your face “Can i kiss you Y/n?” he asked, catching you off guard. He wanted to kiss you? Did you want to kiss him? He made you laugh, smile, and feel like you were the only witch in the whole wizarding world.

yeah, you definitely wanted to kiss him.

you nodded once and that was enough for him. He dipped down to your height and plants his lips on yours. The calming scent of burning wood invading your nose once again. You respond quickly and kiss him back, feeling his goofy grin, still such a dork.

the kiss was sweet and gentle. George’s heart was beating at a million miles a minute and so was yours. Air, you needed that to live. You both pull away from each other, gripping onto each others clothes. When did that happen? “You are breathtaking darling, literally actually”

you snort at his dorky compliment “Way to kill the mood Weasley” you comment and he chuckles lightly before looking into your eyes “I know today hasn’t been the best for you and this might make it worse, but- i am so in love with you darling. I have been since the first day we met last year”

you couldn’t believe what you were hearing, but at the same time you were waiting for it after that kiss. “I love you too George, you giant dork” he smiles brightly as he scoops you up in his arms for a second to throw you on the bed. you gasp as your back connects with sheets.

he climbs in next you “I take back that promise about being handsy, get ready to be my teddy bear darling”. You feel the fuzzy stomach thing again- or whatever it was called. you watch as he shuts off the lamp and grabs the blanket at the bottom of his bed.

“i think i’ll manage” you reply as he places the sheet over your body and his. George turns his body towards you and grabs your waist “Tonight? yes, in the morning i have you all to myself as well and i don’t plan on letting you leave” he smirk was screaming what his intentions were the following morning.

your face must have been super red. “yeah you wish” you mumble, which makes him snicker. He knew the effect he had on you. “Night darling” he says and kisses your temple sweetly. You smile and lay your head on his chest, falling asleep in his embrace.

☼-☪-☼

Taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @sonbelleame @moonpi3 @dracosathenaeum @pxroxide-prinxcesss

☼-☪-☼

Kody: It’s 5am?! oh shit- well anyways peace lmao.

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animeyanderelover · 3 years

Note

Hi!💖Could you do Sasuke with prompt 119?

Sure thing.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, jealousy, threatening

Prompt 119: “Eyes on only me.”

You shuffled awkwardly around, trying to struggle free from the grip Suigetsu currently had on your hip. The flirty white-haired boy on the other hand gave you an amused grin, his pointy teeth shimmering dangerously in the sunlight. It made you swallow a growing lump in the back of your throat. You were a bit scared right now. Less of him, more of how Sasuke would react to all of this. You for sure knew that he wouldn't be pleased with this at all.

The quiet male had been these past few weeks busy enough with keeping the whole team away from you. Karin had obviously issues with you since Sasuke was in love, if you could call it that, with you, constantly nagging and complaining about you and that the team would be better without you. Jugo was, in your opinion at least, the most nice guy in here. He was more polite which made you like him the most, you also liked his ability to understand the language of animals. But you had witnessed that he was definitely not harmless, him having you nearly attacked once when losing control. If it wouldn't have been for Sasuke, you might have been hurt really badly.

And Suigetsu, well he was a huge flirt. It was hurt to tell which one of those guys Sasuke disliked the most, all of them were naturally threats for you. But Suigetsu was just a case for his own because he approached you for the reason to piss Sasuke off. He had been the first one who had met you from the members of the team and had quickly discovered who exactly you were. You weren't exactly unknown. In fact many people knew you simply because Sasuke had gone through a lot just to reassure to have you in his arms. And he had left quite the number of bodies behind, people who had wanted to protect you. Innocent people. It wasn't like he had cared about them nor when you had put up a fight in order to not be stripped off your freedom. But it hadn't helped you at all in the end.

You resented him a lot for everything he had done, but were too much of a coward to admit it to him. You were scared of him and his rage because you knew what he was capable of. Daring to defy him never ended well, a rule which you had been taught the first time you had tried. The same thing counted for his teammates on which he didn't have a problem to lash out as well. He did it more often these days anyways due to having to keep an eye on you. You just seemed to catch too much attention from the wrong people, Karin constantly trying to steal Sasuke's attention and Suigetsu constantly trying to flirt with you. You were truly impressed that Sasuke hadn't exploded yet. But you guessed if he planned on killing them, he would do it most likely after they had fulfilled their purpose.

Maybe that was the reason why he had demanded lately so much attention from you, always dragging you somewhere near him. He didn't like it when you spent time with the swordman who cracked one flirt after another, stepping into your private space, touching you in ways that he wasn't allowed to. Sasuke hated it in a completely other way than him getting annoyed with Karin for her clingyness and constant tries to talk you useless. But she at least never had this grin on her face when she was near you or let his hands linger near places they shouldn't be. The worst was still that Suigetsu was clearly showing that it was his intention to make Sasuke jealous, if you remembered right, he had told you once that he found it amusing to see the boy all agitated and boiling because he was jealous. But what he found amusing, terrified you and you couldn't help, but ask yourself if Suigetsu was either stupid or into pain because you were convinced that Sasuke wouldn't let this slide without giving that guy another harsh lesson.

But was he really ready to get into so much troubles just to tease Sasuke? Judging from the way he kept pulling you back whenever you tried to wriggle free, he was. And you had this feeling that your feelings wouldn't convince him either, he was only focused on his own fun. And if you were the toy that would allow him to have this fun, he wasn't really affected if you should get punished with him. Gosh, how you hated him.

"Come on. Stiffen up a bit. Sasuke isn't even here. You have no reason to be so nervous." You shot him quickly a short glare, trying to rip his arms off you. "That is why I try to get out of here! Because then there is the minimal chance that both of us won't get in troubles because of this! Sasuke can't get mad at something he didn't even know happened in the first place!", you snarled at him, digging your fingernails in the sjkin of his arms. Suigetsu seemed enragingly unbothered, sighing annoyed before tightening his grip a bit more. "You really are no fun, you know? You're boringly obedient."

"I'm not obedient! But different from you I'm sane enough to know and car that we might be be in huge troubles if Sasuke finds out! Are you just dumb or crazy to not realize just how bad this can end?!" It was really a bad joke of fate now that you were thinking about it. This was actually a time where you would have been thankful for Sasuke to be with you, but just now he had to finish something which was why he had left you alone in the first place. He couldn't be your babysitter all the time. Not like you wanted him to be in the first place.

"Oh, I see. So you're scared of getting hurt. What a coward you are.I don't really get why Sasuke likes you so much in the first place. But you know", he leaned closer to you, his face directly next to yours and lips only a few inches away from your ear,"that makes you all the more interesting for me. I just want to find out what Sasuke sees in you. And besides, you might not feel that way at all, but I find it so entertaining to see him getting all bothered up just because someone from us spends time with you or is even anywhere near you. It's refreshing to witness someone like him, who always tries to play the cool and collected guy, getting so worked up only because of one person. I thought he had no place in that dark heart of his, but here you are, being forced to be part of this team just because Sasuke here couldn't leave you. Isn't that just romantic?"

"Suigetsu! Let go! This is not the time for this! I don't care if you don't care what happens to you! But I do care what might happen to me!" You angrily tried to push him away, but your elbow was not met with his stomach, instead you felt your fabric getting soaked. Damn it! His ability was bothersome, to be able to transform his whole body into water. But what was currently pissing you off the most that he took none of this serious. He was seeing it as a game. "Someone is getting mad.", he chirped, petting your head in a way that was clearly meant to piss you off even more. "But what do you plan on doing against it, hmm?" He poked your cheek, making you twitch your eyebrow angered. "We both know that you won't be able to beat me."

"I will fight you if you don't get your hands off them. And we both know that you can't beat me." The sudden additional voice, an awfully familiar one, caught yours and Suigetsu's attention, both of you turning surprised and you a bit frightened around. There he was, standing only a few feet away from you two. That was crazy, neither you nor Suigetsu had sensed him. "Hey there Sasuke. I thought you would be gone for a bit longer. Why are you already back?" If he was right now nervous, scared or in any other way emotionally unbalanced, he was certainly good in hiding it. Because for you he appeared to be his usual caredree and easy-going self.

"I finished it quicker than expected.", Sasuke answered, eyes glued to Suigetsu's hands which were still around you. "Suigetsu..." He closed his eyes for a short moment before opening them again, you noticing with increasing heart speed that he had activated his Sharingan. "Let them go." There was hidden anger in his voice and the intense glare be was giving Suigetsu made you fear that the boy might just literally drop dead the next second. But he still didn't look like he cared or was afraid. Much more on the opposite. There was a small smirk plastered on his face, taking obvious pleasure in seeing Sasuke being so territorial over something. He wouldn't provoke him, would he?

"You're so mean Sasuke. I never get to spend much time with (y/n) because you constantly shoo me away from her.", he started whining. Wow, he really did just start provoking him. You didn't know if you should be amazed or worried about this amount of carelessness. It was a double-edged sword, you supposed. "I mean, I totally get why you don't allow Karin anywhere near them. She's just bitchy. But what did I do so wrong to lead you to not trusting me near them? I only want to get to know the little thing here a bit more. We're a team after all, aren't-"

He finally seemed to get back to bnormal senses the moment he had a lightning-channeled sword held right against his head. "I don't like repeating myself Suigetsu." his voice was still as cold as ever, but you and Suigetsu both picked up the wavering in it, the cold rage in it. "Let. Them. Go." You didn't even have to look at him, you could feel the furious and sinister aura surrounding him. You were worried what Suigetsu would do next.

He had gone quiet, looking like he was trying to judge whether he should continue pushing Sasuke a bit more for fun or retreat. For a few seconds it became quiet before you noticed Sasuke lifting his arm, realizing that he was about to swing. And Suigetsu was quick to notice it too, letting instantly go of you and raising his arms in defeat. "Fine, fine. I'll stop so please don't get mad. I wanted to only joke with them a bit. You should work on your sense of humor. Well, I guess I see you later then." With these words he started walking away, giving you a flirty wink before finally disappearing from your and Sasuke's view, the latter one watching him leaving with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw.

You were dumbfounded, staring speechless in the direction Suigetsu had headed. You didn't like him one bit, he was way too mischievious and self-centered, but he never ceased to stun you with his disrespectful and mocking way of acting around Sasuke. It was a miracle he wasn't dead yet Somewhere deep down you felt even a bit jealous, wishing you could be a little bit more carefree and not worringly like he was.

Sasuke glanced at you, noticing the way you stared impressed after Suigetsu, making a feeling bubbling up inside his stomach which he didn't like at all. "(y/n)." You turned a bit startled around to him, shrinking when you noticed his burning look, Sharingan still activated. "Eyes on only me." You tried to hide your surprised face, not having him expected to say something that sounded so obviously like he was jealous. You just gave him a short nod, feeling not couragous enough to speak up. "The next time I'll have to take care of something, you'll come with me. Understood?" You nodded again, knowing that saying 'no' wasn't an option.

"You shouldn't waste too much thoughts on him or someone else on this team anyways." He had stepped closer, bending a bit down to look you in your eyes since you had stated to make yourself closer. "After I don't need them anymore, I'll make sure that they will never bother me or you again." The look on his face told you he wasn't kidding.

#yandere naruto #yandere naruto shippuden #yandere sasuke #yandere sasuke uchiha

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commonwealthoccurences · 3 years

Text

Companions React: Masked, Teenager Sole

Note: Deacon has a full imagine due to it being the original request, which can be found under the title “The Kids From Yesterday.” Enjoy!

Cait:

Nosy about Sole’s identity

The fact that they’re so secretive makes her extra suspicious about their motives, especially when she first becomes their companion

Will probably straight up start arguments about it, and it honestly does become a barrier in her trusting them

(Maybe it’s just an excuse she’s using not to trust them)

Eventually it settles into an unspoken agreement that they agree to disagree; Sole knows she doesn’t like their secrecy and Cait knows they don’t fully trust her either due to how guarded they have to be

Doesn’t appreciate it when other people push to find Sole’s identity, though

She can yell at them about it but no one else can, that’s her job

When she eventually has to remove Sole’s helmet due to them getting injured, she’s outwardly horrified

They remind her of herself when she was younger; young and vulnerable and put in dangerous positions no teenager should be a part of

She’s terrified for them and that shows itself as anger, considering that’s the only way she really knows how to show emotion

When they wake up they argue, but eventually she gives them her reasoning

She becomes extremely protective and is more ready than ever to spill blood over someone threatening Sole

No one was around and willing to protect her when she needed it as a teenager; Sole doesn’t have to deal with the same if she’s there, though

Curie:

Doesn’t particularly let the anonymity bother her

She notices, of course, how closely they guard their identity and the fact that they never show their face, or any part of their body, but that doesn’t hinder their efficiency so she doesn’t think much of it

Finds them to be delightful company and doesn’t need a face to know that

That’s about it. She may ask the occasional question about their background out of curiosity or ask their reasoning for hiding identifying features, but other than that she doesn’t really react to the hiding

When Sole gets injured and she finds out their identity she’s definitely surprised

She asks them what led them to taking up the mantle they have (General, Railroad recruit, etc) when they shouldn’t have to have that responsibility at such a young age

They’ve clearly proved themself capable, so she doesn’t tend to question them so much

However she does make sure to sneak in ways to let them be a teenager and not the Sole the Commonwealth knows

She asks them to join her on short walks, help her cook, etc

Makes sure to help them stay anonymous to others

Danse:

Absolutely not impressed

A security threat he doesn’t want to deal with

How is he supposed to verify they’re decent and vouch for them if he doesn’t even know who they are

Not to mention the potential for someone to pretend to be them and gain access to the Prydwen

Makes a begrudging exception if Maxson requests so or they turn out to be a fantastic asset

Doesn’t really stop prying, though (A small part of that is his own curiosity)

After they’ve known each other a while he gets defensive over other people prying into Sole’s identity

“They’re highly respected for a reason, I don’t think their appearance is any of your business, now is it?”

When he has to remove their helmet he’s shocked but doesn’t fully react

Sure, the situation’s unfortunate, however many Brotherhood recruits start young

Does have doubts as to whether or not a teenager can handle the workload and make the decisions required of Sole, but realizes eventually that they’ve already been making those choices

Is wary of them overworking themself but it isn’t a big conversation

Gage:

Struggles a bit with not being in the loop, but plenty of raiders don’t show their faces

If they get their work done and don’t fuck things up, he doesn’t particularly care what they look like or where they come from

Sure he’s curious and makes small attempts to find out what they look like but it’s not a big issue for him

Does ask about their past every now and then just to see if they’ll slip up

When he finds out their age and what they look like he finds himself more upset than he’d expected

The things he’d required them to do weren’t pretty and yet they hadn’t hesitated, even seemed to be trying to surpass his expectations

They lived in a shitty world but things like this really hit him in the gut and drive that point home

Goes a little easier on them afterwards but doesn’t make a discussion out of it and no longer pries

Also uses the respect angle as a way to get raiders to stop asking questions

Hancock:

Unashamed prier

Doesn’t hesitate to try and get them to expose their past

It’s playful teasing to him so unless Sole draws a line or seems extremely uncomfortable, he’s not gonna stop

Doesn’t really think there’s anything to their anonymity other than maybe them having a situation similar to Mac; someone hiding from raiders or the Gunners

Once they earn his respect his jokes get a little less invasive and he starts letting them have their secrets

When he sees they’re a teenager he’s pretty upset

They’ve been travelling the Commonwealth fighting things that no sane adult would go up against in their dreams and they’re just a kid in his eyes

Doesn’t really know what to do

Has a talk with them about letting him protect them a bit more

He doesn’t feel right having a teenager try and take bullets for him

He’s not upset at them he’s upset for them and all they shouldn’t’ve had to do

Haylen:

Another believer in the security risk issue

If they prove themself loyal, though, she doesn’t have too much of a problem

Does ask questions about their past but not to pry, more because she genuinely wants to get to know them

As long as they’re capable, though, she leaves anything regarding their appearance and past alone

That’s about it before they reveal their face

Afterwards she’s somewhat upset

She doesn’t often question Maxson, but he’s sending a teenager on dangerous missions that should be completed by the upper ranks of the Brotherhood

Mostly just angered by the fact that they have no one to stand up and protect them when a bunch of adults are asking them to do dangerous things for their own benefit

MacCready:

Respects the anonymity

Honestly a little jealous he didn’t think to go anon

Doesn’t ask anything in the beginning; he’s getting paid to protect them not for small talk

Does suspect they’re running from something

As they get closer he asks a few questions but doesn’t really pressure them to talk about their past

When he finds out Sole’s a teenager he’s possibly the most effected out of all the companions

He feels sick and immediately thinks of Duncan; this was somebody’s child. What if it was his kid in this position, with all these expectations on his shoulders?

Immediately activates dad mode, to the point where Sole might find it a little suffocating

“There has to be someone out there missing you, kid. Why are you out here doing all this dangerous sh- stuff?”

The dad mode thing doesn’t really switch off unless they’re in public; implying a familial connection could make things more dangerous

He does protect them in combat situations more, though, and usually has an eye on them at all times

Nick:

A little wary of their unwillingness to be identified, but can’t be too annoyed about it

There’s plenty of tactics to stay alive in the Commonwealth and theirs seems to be working for them quite well

Does wonder how they manage to avoid slipping up and revealing something about themself so well (he is a detective after all)

May make sly comments to see if they do mess up but other than that he leaves the identity situation alone

They’re respectable and they respect him, so that’s enough in his eyes

When he finds out they’re a teenager he, like Gage, is reminded of just how much the world has changed

He’s disgusted that a teenager has been put in a situation where they feel they need to make theses sacrifices for everyone

God knows the adults aren’t really doing it

Becomes a lot more defensive of them but not to the point Mac goes to

Checks up on them a lot more often, too

Makes sure they take breaks from the difficult tasks

Piper:

She’s a reporter; you really expect her to do anything other than pry?

Seriously does everything she can think of to get them to slip up and reveal something about themself

Even tries to bribe them

When it doesn’t work she sulks a little and mulls over her next plan

Eventually she isn’t so forthright with it but she never really stops trying

Makes it clear that she does respect Sole for their personality and what they do, though

When she finds out it all makes sense to her and she feels guilty for being so persistent

Becomes a bit protective over them as well; she couldn’t imagine if Nat was put in their position

Tries to make it clear through her actions that they have a home with her and Nat if they need somewhere to go or a family, since it seems like they don’t have one of their own

Preston:

Are they efficient? Do they respect the settlers? Do they have a good heart and want to help the Commonwealth? Good enough for him

He doesn’t have the time or energy to try and dig into why they don’t want to show their face

He’s admittedly a little curious but it’s none of his business and he makes sure that they know he knows that

A little more reluctant to just let it go once they become General considering there’s more at stake, but what else is he gonna do

It’s not like anyone else was willing to lead, and they seem to be doing a damn good job at it

When they get injured and he finds out why they hid their appearance, he’s somewhat upset

At himself for putting so much pressure on a teenager, at Sole for not being straightforward and allowing him to push them so much, and at the world for putting them both in a situation where there’s no other option

Moving forward he asks a little less of them and tries to step up even more to take some of their workload

Definitely helps quell the settlers asking questions about Sole and their identity

Sturges:

Pretty similar to Preston

Doesn’t ask too many questions as long as they’re a respectable leader

When he finds out he takes a minute to be frustrated with the situation and then moves on

Their armor and weapons are always priority for repair, however, and he asks them quite often if they need his assistance with something

X6-88:

Internally he’s quite unwilling to believe they’re good enough for the job the Institute’s given them, but he doesn’t express this other than with a few snide comments

They could be a major security risk but the decision has been made and he’s not in much of a place to protest

He does try to investigate them on his own, without asking them questions directly, but comes up empty handed, which irritates him further

When he finds out he’s alarmed

The fate of the Institute, and therefore the Commonwealth, as been put in the hands of a teenager

His reaction to protect them even more isn’t quite out of concern for their wellbeing, and more out of concern for the Institute if they were to die

Isn’t impressed

#fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout 4 companions react #fallout 4 headcanons #fallout 4 hcs #cait #curie #paladin danse #deacon #gage #hancock #rj maccready #scribe haylen #nick valentine #preston garvey #sturges #x6-88 #piper

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spectralscathath · 3 years

Text

Like-Minded Souls, Indeed?

Because this was exactly what Mercury needed, the voice of someone his boss killed showing up in his head and telling him to save the world. No thank you. Not unless you paid him.

Meanwhile, on Ozpin's side of things, he would like to very much not be found out by Salem. That would be... unfortunate.

Ao3 Link

Chapter 1: In Which Neither Mercury Nor Ozpin Can Ever Catch A Break

Ozpin felt the tugs of Ozma's magic at the corners of his mind, the limbo of their incarnations finally broken as a like-minded soul was bonded with.

He awoke in the back of someone's mind, still bleary as though he was physically waking up from a deep sleep. The mindscape was quiet with a forced calm, tension like pulled strings threading through the soul of this new individual and ready to snap at the slightest touch.

He looked out a set of new eyes, to see if it was a good time to introduce himself, and felt ancient fear flood through him at the sight of Ozma's oldest and most terrible foe. Oh. Oh no. This was very bad. This was quite possibly the worst place he could incarnate.

Salem herself, smiling at the girl who had killed him under Beacon. To die in fire was not an experience the countless souls wanted to repeat, and Ozpin was unfortunate enough to join the ranks of the few predecessors who’d suffered such a painful death.

He chose to say nothing, instead observing the way silver strands of hair fell over the side of his vision, how the body ached with phantom pains that were not Ozpin's, and wisely retreated back into the mind.

Perhaps another time.

Perhaps when Mr Mercury Black was not currently surrounded by danger.

After all, they both had to make the best of things now. He could only hope that Mr Black would be the type who could be persuaded away from Salem.

If not, then this was going to be... difficult.

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

Ozpin had been a father, so many lifetimes before. He had never been perfect, he had made countless mistakes across Ozma's many lifetimes, he accepted them all as his failures, so he could learn from them and do better in the next life.

He had given his second life in a futile attempt to save his daughters, and sometimes wondered if he regretted his choices. Should he have stayed? If he had stayed, would he still be alive? Would his children still be alive?

The look Marcus Black wore in so many of Mercury's memories reminded him too much of Salem to ever again regret his attempt to escape her clutches.

He had been waiting a long time, studying Mercury’s routine so he could find the safest time to breach the gap between them. He had to say, this was an opportunity like no other, to see what Salem’s plans were without detection, but with great reward came terrible risk. All it would take was one slip, and they’d both be dead. Or worse. And if he did nothing, then all the knowledge he could gain would be for naught.

So he waited until they were alone before he could chance speaking to him, until Mercury had retreated to his corners and locked the door, shoving a chair under the handle as was his custom. He was paranoid, which was a very fair response to the situation. The massive wardrobe must have taken some shoving to put it in the path of the window, but it certainly did prevent any unwelcome visitors who might see it as a means of entry.

The bed pushed into the corner was wise as well, to put his back to a wall, although the fact that Mercury piled his pillows under the covers as a decoy and then slept under the bed itself might have been pushing it somewhat.

He waited until Mercury was sitting on the bed, looking over his weapons and performing any upkeep needed, the faint cyan glow from the vents in his prosthetics lining his silver fringe.

Mr Black, don’t be alarmed.

“What the FUCK?!” Mercury bolted upright, knife in hand as he looked around, head swinging to every potential place an intruder could be. “Who’s there?!”

Professor Ozpin. He had to think quickly. Don’t tell Salem or she will kill you. This is part of my curse as her opponent, I must incarnate into a new mind with every death, and I am now currently in yours.

“No the fuck you are not.” Mercury snarled. “Show yourself, come out and face me.”

I can’t, actually. He should try and enter Mercury’s dream. He personally had never done that, but Ozma had, so therefore he had as well… hadn’t he? It seemed the lines were blurring between himself and Ozma already. More than they had been when he was alive. He’d been one of the more compatible hosts, on account of not having anything that really needed Ozpin Headley more than it needed Ozma-in-Ozpin’s-head.

“Nope. Okay. I’ve gone mad. I’ve been up too long.”

That is true. Mercury had a terrible case of insomnia, it seemed. Though with the night terrors he had, it was understandable. He was about to have a whole lot more, once the merge hit the point where Ozpin was able to fade into the memory consciousness, just as Ozana had when she had joined the other incarnations in the depths of their shared subconscious.

He was hoping he could spare the young man the nightmares from hundreds of deaths. Ten thousand years was a long time to live and die and live again. Mr Black, I assure you, this is not an ideal situation for me either, but you must understand that you are not crazy and that I am now-

“Taking up residence in my head like a fucking pervert? What, running a school wasn’t enough for you to get your sick kicks?” Mercury snarled at him.

Okay, that was uncalled for. Mr Black, that is very untrue. This is just something that happens . After all, someone had to stop Salem.

“Fuckin- alright, fine, so I’ve gone mad. What else is new?” Mercury grumbled, sitting back down and angrily sharpening a knife.

You’re very sane, I assure you. Ozana had told him something similar, if a bit less polite.

“Right, I’m talking to a voice in my head while living in a castle owned by some sort of humanoid Grimm witch, that’s the definition of sanity.” Mercury snarked at him.

If you can believe Salem’s existence, then surely you can believe mine?

“I don’t believe anything you say. Can you go back to shutting up?” Mercury’s anger was a tangible force in their head, not like a wildfire, but more like a poison, something that slowly corroded whatever it touched. It was a very cold anger.

I’m afraid not. I must insist that you leave this place before Salem finds out of my presence, or she WILL kill you then and there. Or worse. There could be so much worse. Salem had been around far longer than he had, by sheer virtue of her immortality working differently. It had left her with a large pool of creative methodology for causing pain, many of which had been lost to time.

He didn’t want to undergo that as much as Mercury likely wouldn’t want to either, so that meant leaving was their best choice. He’d been listening in on a few of the meetings that Salem had hosted, finding out that Haven was the next target, and Vacuo after that. He’d also found that she hadn’t yet obtained the Crown of Choice, but that she did still have at least one operative in Vale looking. He wished them luck. He personally had decided to move the Beacon Vault and hide it a little better after he took over the school.

There was no way Salem’s people could find it. Not without his knowledge. Or Jinn’s knowledge.

He had to keep Jinn out of Salem’s reach. If summoned, she wouldn’t choose not to answer Salem’s question. She didn’t have that sense of morality. To the Relics, all that mattered was their task, and the rules that bound them to it.

So, Mercury, when do we leave?

“You’re stupid.” Mercury told him bluntly. “We’re on another continent with no way off that isn’t controlled by Salem. There is no leaving. At least not until she sends me out on a job. So here’s the deal, you shut the fuck up, and then maybe when I’m out of this creepy fucking castle, we can talk.” Ozpin could hear the lie in there. Mercury had zero intentions of ever talking to him again.

But it was a good idea, for safety’s sake. He would have to be a silent observer. After all, the walls could have ears.

Besides, once they were out on a job, so to speak, he could simply start talking again. After all, that was the letter of the potential agreement, if not Mercury’s intention.

Agreed. I will see you when we are in the clear.

“Piss off.” Mercury grumped at him, and just this once, Ozpin chose to comply. He could use the time to gather information, and silence was a small price to pay for that.

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

Mercury followed Emerald, Watts, and Cinder into the safehouse Lionheart had brought for them, feeling a strange sense of betrayal flood him that was definitely not his. He realised it was probably Ozpin, who had so far remained quiet during the flight out of Evernight, meeting up with Watts, and going over battleplans for confronting Raven Branwen.

He’d been tuned in just to see what his role was (he was Thug #2, the muscle who was meant to stand there and possibly kill someone if that kind of point had to be made), and was allowed to be basically invisible beyond that. He watched as Cinder went to cook herself dinner, and since she knew she controlled Emerald through food and shelter, probably Emerald as well. Mercury could cook for himself, if he had to, and Watts could starve for all they cared.

He wasn’t hungry anyway. Too busy trying to hold off on the wrenching nausea in his gut that was not his. “See ya, Em.” He shrugged at her, holding up his scroll. “I’m gonna play some Amid You. See ya tomorrow.”

“See ya, Merc.” She waved him off. She’d gotten a bit more tolerable since they got trapped together in the deathworld that was Salem’s castle. Not that they were friendly or anything. Just tolerable.

He made his way up the stairs and into one of the rooms, making sure it wasn’t the fanciest one because he’d let Cinder and Watts duke out ownership of that one. He locked the door, looking for something he could shove against it and picking the bedside table. It’d do.

He checked the window lock and pulled the curtains over, sitting on the bed as he played music on his scroll to mask the fact that he could be talking to himself, if only to tell Ozpin to shut the fuck up with the sadness.

“Alright asshole, what’s the problem.”

I can’t believe Leo would fall this far. Ozpin sounded fucking miserable. Sucks for him, he got betrayed. What happened to him? He was a hero for so long…

“People suck, get over it.” Seriously, if he’d been around since the asscrack of time, then he should know that.

Not always. Some people are good. It makes it hurt all the more when some of them turn out to… well. Stick a knife in your back . Ozpin sighed, impressive for a man who didn’t have a body or lungs. So. Now we can discuss you leaving this group and helping protect the Relic of Knowledge.

“Yeah, no, not happening. If there’s a mole on the inside of your old team, then me buggering off from Cinder is only gonna end up with us dead, which is that thing you didn’t want, right? After all, Leo runs Haven, and those kids Watts mentioned? First years and a drunken Huntsman. Haven’s dead meat.”

We have to try. Salem cannot be allowed to obtain any of the Relics.

“Nah. We have to survive. I’m not dying just because you wanna be a hero.” Mercury kicked his boots and greaves off, since he was out of Evernight, twirling his ankle a bit and listening to the metallic clicking the joint made.

Mr Black, I must insist. If the Vault in Haven is opened, it could go very badly. Besides, Qrow is my friend. I’d rather not risk him being hurt.

“Hey, the plan involves not going near Qrow. It’s a simple sneak in, sneak out, and the White Fang blow up the school a few days later. No one’s getting hurt, except for Lionheart. Clock’s ticking on his usefulness.” The plan was easy compared to Cinder’s weird domino pieces plan for taking down Beacon. He preferred the Haven plan that was clearly Salem and Watts’s idea. It was simple, no muss, no fuss. Easy pickings.

Gonna be great to see how Cinder’s rampaging ego ruined it, something easy like this clearly wouldn’t fuel her proud streak. She was just like Marcus. Always wanted a challenge. That was why he saved cutting off a target’s semblance for a finishing blow in his assassinations.

Haven Academy is important, Mercury, you can’t just let it be blown up! I won’t stand by while Salem steals the Relic and destroys another Academy! I can’t!

“All the Huntsman in Mistral are either dead or useless, gramps.” Mercury rolled his eyes. “Academy’s already useless. You should focus on the relic.” Maybe if he came up with another plan it’d get Ozpin off his back.

I don’t play to win at all costs, Mr Black. I try to protect as many pieces on the board as I can.

“That’s why you’re losing,” Mercury collapsed back on the bed, hooking his hands behind his head as he got comfortable. “How about another deal? We wait for Cinder to get the Relic. Watts has to go back to Evernight after dealing with Branwen, so the trip back will be me, her, and Emerald. Cinder won’t be expecting an attack, so how about we kill her, steal the ship, and then you can take the Relic wherever you want?”

And Emerald? Ozpin queried. Would you be killing her in this sneak attack as well?

That made him pause for a moment. Would he kill Emerald? Probably not, he didn’t need to. Cinder was absolutely a threat who had to be taken out as quickly as possible, but Emerald? Nah. “She’d probably get all butthurt that Cinder’s dead or whatever, but I don’t see why she should die as well. Worse comes to worst we’ll knock her out. We’d be doing her a favour, honestly. You’ve seen how Cinder treats her.” The fact that Ozpin was constantly watching everything was real fucking unnerving and something he tried to not think about at all times.

Hmmmm… Ozpin deliberated for ages, which made Mercury think he was probably scheming away. Whatever. Mercury wasn’t going to fall for any of it. What could a voice in his head do? Get sad at him? You think you can kill Cinder?

“I think that I’ve been watching how she fights for nearly two years now and that she’s got a massive blind spot on her left side.” It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be manageable. Amber got taken out too, after all. “You got anything that would help? Cinder said you put up a fight in that basement where she killed you.” He hoped that was uncomfortable to talk about. If he had to be disquieted by sharing headspace with a weirdo, so should Ozpin.

Yes. I have some magical ability left that can, at the very least, level the playing field a little bit. It’s not as strong as the Maiden’s magic, but if applied correctly, it could work.

Sounded like Ol’ Oz was coming around to ‘fuck everyone else, I got what I want in the end’. Selfish thinking won again. Why waste energy on stopping the destruction of a school when Cinder could be allowed to think she won and Mercury could then use that pride against her to escape this whole messed-up situation.

After all, Salem might be remaking the world and had offered to make him one of the top dogs, but in the pecking order, he was still near the bottom of the ladder. Besides, he did have her worst enemy in his head.

Escape was definitely the best option. “And hey, if she’s planning on attacking Vacuo after, think your buddy in Atlas would let us bunker down there?” If they did it right, then no one would know what happened. Cinder would be too dead to talk, Emerald would be a flight risk but he could probably talk her into not going back to work for Salem, and he sure wouldn’t tell anyone.

Yes. James can be trusted.

Just like Lionheart could, Mercury thought, but this one he kept to himself. “So. Deal?”

I don’t like this. It’s cruel and callous.

“I’m Mercury Black, have we met?” Why would he want to be anything else? The world was cruel. The only way to win was to take what you had and fight for what you wanted. No rules. No lines. Those made people weak.

… Very well. I’ll agree, for now.

“Then we’re done for tonight.”

I suppose we are. Thank you for hearing me out.

Mercury blinked perturbedly. Did he just get thanked? Weird. “Uh- sure. Whatever.”

Ozpin sounded way too amused as he chuckled, Mercury’s hackles rising only slightly. Good night, Mr Black.

Mercury snorted and didn’t bother replying, reaching for his scroll as he switched his music off and went into the games folder. Yeah it was gonna be a good night. He was gonna play video games til his eyes fell out and not sleep.

He supposed this situation with Ozpin could have been worse. At least the guy kept to himself and didn’t make a nuisance. If Mercury had to have a creepy man in his head talking to him, it could have been a lot worse. Could have had a Tyrian in there. Or a Watts.

Or his dad.

Mercury’s nose scrunched. Wouldn’t that be awful. Least Ozpin knew which of them was in control.

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

It was chaos in Haven Academy’s foyer. Mercury dodged a wild swing from Yang, flipping back in a handspring as he errantly observed the room. Ozpin had not been happy about the ‘kill everyone’ plan but whatever, they were here now. Ozpin had been a lot louder since then and was still there, still currently losing his mind in the back of Mercury’s head. Mercury tried to tune most of it out. Wasn’t easy.

Mercury, please! This can’t be what you want! Ozpin begged as Mercury watched that kid in the green get thrown through a wall by Hazel. Ozpin always went real quiet around him. He wondered why. They’re just children!

He didn’t answer back, because fuck it, what did he know? Being a kid didn’t mean shit. Where was ‘just children’ when Marcus beat him up daily? Nowhere, that’s where.

You have to stop this! You’ll never be able to get the Relic now, the plan won’t work! This is our only chance!

He dodged another gunshot from Yang, which was criminally easy, she definitely had not gotten faster since their last fight, and checked in on the only threat. Qrow was- oh fuck he had stopped fighting Raven, disengaging from that little sibling duel to charge Hazel, landing a blow to the guy’s back with enough force that Hazel’s knee hit the ground. Mercury swore it dented from the weight behind that blow.

No no no no no no-

He whistled as he caught Yang’s kick in one of his own, forcing her leg down and scoring a punch directly to the floating ribs. Her eyes went red for a moment as she swung a hook at him, one that he dodged again, knocking her around with a few more kicks to the head. Had she gotten sloppier? He would be ashamed to fight this badly.

Mercury. Please. Don’t make me do this.

He glanced over at where Qrow was nimbly dodging Hazel’s blows before a cheap shot from Lionheart hit him in the shoulder, knocking his footwork off-balance long enough that Hazel got his hands on Qrow.

Mercury I’m so sorry-

“What-” Mercury asked before his vision flashed gold, and he was shunted into the back of his own head. Suddenly he was the voice, and Ozpin was in control- he had no control over his own body, no way to stop as Ozpin took a running leap, leaving a confused Yang behind, and landed a kick into the side of Hazel’s head, the shotgun blasting right in his ear.

Ozpin had took over. Ozpin… could take over. And he’d never mentioned it. He’d never-

Qrow looked at them, utterly dumbfounded. The entire room had gone dead quiet as Ozpin-in-Mercury’s-body artfully landed between Qrow and Hazel, not taking his eyes off the latter. Then he spoke with Mercury’s voice but it wasn’t Mercury’s words and it wasn’t right-

“I’d like my cane back, if you wouldn’t mind, Qrow.”

Cinder was staring. Emerald was staring. Everyone was staring as Mercury was turned into a fucking puppet, all his control stolen away. He hadn’t even known Ozpin could- He’d thought-

His view of their- their, not his- vision tunnelled, greying out at the edges. Haven wasn’t there anymore. It was just that house. His room. The smell of whiskey and blood and cigarette burns-

And Mercury clocked out, brain going black with panic.

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

He felt hands on his shoulders even though there were no hands on his shoulders, pulling him out of the darkness and shoving him back in the driver’s seat. He blinked, collapsed against a wall with a cane handle in his hand and Qrow leaning over him, the smell of alcohol on the other man’s breath hitting some button in his head too close too close-

“Get AWAY from me!” He shrieked, kicking him full in the chest and loosing a shotgun blast to make sure the point got across, the Relic clattering on the ground as Qrow lost his grip on it. His hand clenched on the cane handle so hard it was shaking, and he threw that away as hard as he could.

Mercury, I am so sorry, I swear, I didn’t want to ever have to do that to you, but you left me no choice-

“ Shut up!” He snapped, voice ragged and a little too raw as he pulled his knees defensively to his chest and dug his fists into silver hair, tugging until the burn on his scalp felt like he was pulling Ozpin’s voice out of his head.

He heard footsteps come closer and looked up from his defensive curl, a knife appearing in his hand as he met Lil Red’s silver eyes, wide with concern and simmering with underlying resentment. “Professor Ozpin?”

Mercury, you have to understand, we can’t let Salem get the Relic-

He remembered a similar look on her face when she saw him walking again in the maintenance hall of Amity Colosseum. He snarled back this time, instead of a cocky smirk. “No. Come near me and I’ll rip your fucking face off.”

“Don’t talk to my sister like that!” Yang snapped, her eyes bright red as she glared at him, the Schnee keeping a hand on her shoulder to keep her in line. Fucking try it, Blondie, he’d take her other arm off, they could match.

Ruby wisely took a step back, still easily too close for him to handle. “Mercury?” her hand twitched towards the gun on her back

Mercury? Will you let me explain?

“All of you shut up.” He glared at the Relic, kicking it away as he jumped to his feet. He couldn’t handle this. It was too much, too much control lost- and Emerald wasn’t there, FUCK. So much for doing her a favour. He looked at everyone, feeling cornered, skin alive with fire ants that weren’t really there and legs burning with phantom aches, and did the only thing he could do when fighting wasn’t the option.

He bolted, clearing the stairs behind him and disappearing into Haven Academy, picking a random room that wasn’t Lionhearts (he was not going NEAR a fucking Seer, no thank you) and locking the door.

Mercury, I truly am sorry. I never meant to hurt you. Ozpin told him gently, and the worst thing was that he sounded like he meant it.

“Don’t ever talk to me again.” Mercury snarled, and started breaking everything in the room that he could get his hands on.

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

Man, Ozpin's sections got deeper then I expected but then again the guy has identity issues for sure. Where does Ozma end and Ozpin begin? Things we will literally never know!

#rwby #mercury black #ozpin #Oz!Merc AU #rwby fanfiction #my writings

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dovakhiindrabbles · 3 years

Note

For the prompt 43 with Brynjolf please?

Of course! I’d be more than happy to write the prompt for you! I only hope you have an amazing day and enjoy! <3

43. “Come with me.”

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Nocturnal was a god among mortals -- a daedric prince who oversaw the murky shadows and all who hid among them. Whispers heard throughout the world told of how she could even be found lingering in those shadows, an inky blackness clinging to her as if the very sun itself couldn’t reveal her.

She was above the follies of mortals and yet couldn’t help herself from meddling. Especially those of her most loyal followers -- the Nightingales.

She’d noticed from her times looming within the darkness how you and Brynjolf interacted. How hands briefly brushed and fingers just barely interlocked. How passing glances held just a second too long to be unimportant. How no matter where you went, you went together.

Your feelings for one another were so painfully obvious an infant could see it -- so apparently the two of you had even less awareness.

It was an opportunity Nocturnal couldn’t pass up.

Between the two of you, she first sought out Brynjolf. The man fancied himself as clever, often to such a degree that a snippy remark had slipped out in some of their conversations.

It was during the night when she caught him, just outside the Blue Palace where he’d managed to escape from. Guards spilled out and yells could be heard from each and every corner -- even those caught in shadow. Brynjolf had slipped between two manors where the moonlight missed just so. An ornate, extravagant jewelry box clamped between his grip with more gemstones and gold decorating it than most would see in their entire life.

From there, Nocturnal revealed herself in the darkest crevice space could offer. The darkness extended her outwards and still clung to her despite her physical form. She was a void, and the shape she created only split itself apart in the pure absence of light -- not even the brightest lantern would be able to paint her figure.

“My Nightingale.”

Brynjolf nearly jumped into the open road in shock, smacking his back up against the wall in frustration upon realizing. “Fucking fuck are you-”

He looked up at Nocturnal’s imposing figure and thought better of himself. He spoke softly, his gaze alternating between her and the streets cluttering further and further of curious onlookers and furious guards. “My lady, what can I do for you?”

She made a motion with her hand that brought strings of the void trailing after her fingertips. “On the contrary, I am here to offer you my assistance.”

Brynjolf gave a cheeky grin. “Could you get me out of this mess?”

“You are one of my most trusted followers with an agent of my own creation. There should be no situation beyond your skills.”

“I know.” Brynjolf groaned. “Worth a shot. Meet me outside the gates, my lady?”

She vanished without a word and Brynjolf proceeded to lift himself up onto the rim of one of the manor’s roof. He hoisted himself up and pressed his body close to the tiles, only lifting himself up to leap from home to home. In that time he truly was a shadow, beyond any light and any eyes that would make the foolish attempt to seek him out.

Minutes later he was beyond Solitude’s walls and any outrage that still remained was drowned out by the falling and crashing of the waves below. Still hidden away safely in his coat was the jewelry box -- not so much as a scuff on it. Brynjolf impressed himself every time.

As he began walking along the carved out path, Nocturnal reemerged. Her form freer beyond Solitude’s constant desire for warmth. She carried herself freely, and she took on a shape almost human, but not quite. There was always an unknowable aspect to Nocturnal that could never be described. Many daedra carried themselves in such a way, so that they could nearly blend in, but never be forgotten by anything lesser than a fool.

“That was commendable.” Nocturnal hummed. Both a lightness and a deepness coexisted in her voice.

Brynjolf interlocked his fingers and stretched them out; a popping could be heard. He sighed dramatically. “All in a day’s work.”

“I hope you are able to hide that treasure as well as you hide your feelings.”

Brynjolf knew Daedric princes were meant to be incapable of understanding; downright incomprehensible sometimes. But this? It bewildered him.

“I’m sorry?”

“You and the other Nightingale?”

Brynjolf cracked a grin. “Karliah?” He tested Nocturnal’s kindness.

“The other one.” She swatted a bit of darkness at him and like a tight band flung outward, it stung him.

“Ah, that one.” Brynjolf rubbed at his little red mark where Nocturnal smacked him like a petulant child. “What of them?”

Nocturnal stepped in front of him, a swirling blackness keeping her from ever truly touching the ground. “You both have feelings for one another?”

Brynjolf did what he knew best, and dodged the question. “What like hate? Friendliness? Perhaps a bit of irritation?”

“Do not attempt to evade me, Nightingale.” Nocturnal raised her voice and the night became that much more invasive. She settled herself quickly. “You are my servant, there is nothing I do not know. The darkest, most secretive parts of yourself are the ones I know best. Fortunately for you, I only wish to help.”

Brynjolf wrinkled his nose and cracked beneath the pressure. It was a touchy subject, apparently. “Oh yeah? And how’s that?”

“I need only open your eyes,” Nocturnal answered. “I think you’ll find it’s clear the feelings are mutual.”

“I don’t want to be disrespectful my lady but-”

Nocturnal cut him off. “Then don’t be.”

Brynjolf scoffed. “But I don’t see how that’s possible.”

She tipped her head to the side curiously. “How is that?”

“Because there are a million other better people knocking on their door!” Brynjolf exclaimed it like it were obvious. “I mean why would someone like that choose someone like me?”

“Someone like you? Their equal?”

Brynjolf scowled and huffed. “Like a thief could ever be on par with the Dragonborn.”

Nocturnal simpered. “The Dragonborn themself also is a thief. Last I recall you two work closely together.”

“Even still-”

“The only one creating rifts in this relationship is you, my Nightingale. What are you afraid of?”

He hesitated and in an instant Nocturnal knew.

“Rejection.”

Brynjolf’s hands tightened into tight, uneasy fists at the revelation. Nocturnal raised those hands and unfurled them, tracing lines of shadow along his palm. In the most peculiar way, it was soothing, and Brynjolf supposed it was her own... unique way of comforting him.

“If I believed there was a chance the Dragonborn wouldn’t share those feelings I would not be here, speaking to you. I only want what is best for my followers.”

“Besides,” Nocturnal mused. “if it goes poorly, you can simply submerge yourself within the shadows for eternity.”

Brynjolf chuckled. “I might take you up on that offer.”

“You won’t.” Nocturnal looked up at him with an emptiness one could consider her eyes. Her ‘windows to the soul’ only unveiled further darkness, but only in the way one shrouds themself beneath the shade of a blanket to escape what frightens them -- it was a relief, protection. “Because you won’t have to.”

A moment later, Nocturnal disappeared within the void beneath her. She sank into the night that had soaked into the very deepest layers of the earth, leaving Brynjolf to himself and her words.

By the time he’d made it to the Nightingale Hall, he’d made up his mind.

You were sitting in the living quarters with Karliah, seated across one another and leaned both in the old, weary chairs. You’d been laughing, and Brynjolf could tell by the edges of your lips lifted up. The moment you saw him, you lit up.

“Bryn! There you are! Karliah was starting to think you got lost along the way!”

He snorted. “I could’ve. What a bitch of a walk.”

Karliah furrowed her brow, amused. “You could’ve stolen a horse like a sane person.”

“Maybe I like the quiet. You can hardly get any of it here.”

She rolled her eyes at the very idea. “You wouldn’t know what to do without us.”

Brynjolf laughed. “Absolutely lass.”

He turned to you and his heart began to thump heavy and hard against his chest. Of all the things to bring him nerves in life, it was you bringing knots and tangles in his stomach. He took a deep breath and grasped your shoulder, gesturing. “Come with me.”

Your eyes widened like saucers, but you stood up. To say the least, your curiosity was piqued. “Alright... what is it?”

“I just wanted to talk to you, in private.”

You ducked your head away to hide the red that burst onto your face. You folded your lips to hide a growing smile, but you were still clearly nervous, shuffling your feet and fidgeting with your hands. “Okay.”

He led you outside where the evening had overtaken the sky overhead in a mix of blues, pinks, and the slightest tinge of purple. It was a beautiful sight, and one of the rare gifts that came with living in Skyrim.

Brynjolf leaned against the stone cavern of the hall and ran his fingers through his hair. This felt so much easier in his head. “I ah -- I don’t know how to say this without sounding like an idiot.”

“Bryn-”

“No! I just -- I want to say this, but be patient with me, please. I’m not good with... emotions.” Brynjolf laughed. “You don’t get to be a man like me by being open.”

You nodded and stayed, you were far too patient than he deserved.

“I-” Brynjolf swallowed hard and took a few steps forward. A part of him wanted to reach for your hand but that’d be too much, too soon. If he -- if Nocturnal was wrong he didn’t want to dig his grave any further than necessary.

“I love you.”

There was a period of silence where Brynjolf considered Nocturnal’s offer to hide in the shadows forever. It was a horrible few seconds where Brynjolf’s vision was stagnant and the entire world was frozen in time.

He only came back to reality when you took his hand. You enveloped it in your own and squeezed his palm fondly. You were warm, and your grip was steadfast.

“I love you too.”

Brynjolf rarely smiled from ear to ear, but he did then. He took you in his arms and spun you like one only saw in fairy tales. It was something he only just now realized he’d wanted to do for the longest time. There were so many things he wanted to do -- with you -- and now, he could.

He would have to thank Nocturnal the next time they crossed paths.

#Brynjolf #Skyrim #tes #Skyrim tes #brynjolf skyrim #Brynjolf x Reader #Brynjolf x You #You x Brynjolf #Skyrim Fanfic #Skyrim Fanfiction #x Reader #brynjolf fanfiction #Brynjolf Fanfic #Forgot how much I LOVE nocturnal #also thieves guild might be my favorite questline

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thr-333 · 4 years

Text

Just Another Class Trip :)

Part 7

Siblings fight thats just part of the deal, nothing out of the ordinary here.

First< Previous >Next

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“You’re sure you’re alright Pollen?” Marinette asks, leaping across the city hoping to catch hide or hair of the miraculous.

“Yes my queen,” The bee Kwami answers, nursing an entire jar of honey Marinette had given her as an apology, “I’m only sorry I can’t tell you anything more,”

“It’s alright,” Marinette sighs, it really wasn't but that was hardly Pollen’s fault, “I know the miraculous are out there, I just need to find them… before we get another Hawkmoth,”

“It’s alright Marinette,” Tikki squeaks, she and Kaalki had yet to leave Pollen’s side, “Hawkmoth had years to rise to power,”

“Yes but Paris wasn't already full of supervillains,” speaking of, “Hide,”

The Kwami’s dart into the many pockets of her outfit. Marinette tries not to betray she knows she is being followed. She doesn't have time to avoid the Batman tonight. However, it doesn't seem it’s just him she needs to worry about, there more people on her trail. Apparently he had learned his mistake from trying to corner her last time, she wished he hadn’t.

She lets them believe she is stopping to stretch for a minute, getting them to lower their guard. Just as they should be content she’s staying put she jumps down to the wall below, sprinting along the narrow surface with speed a little above human. There are few ways to follow her now, Robin lands behind her on the wall, keeping pace with almost the same accuracy. He isn’t the only one, there's someone on the rooftops above her, she can hear the mechanics of a grappling hook.

She jumps from the brick wall to a mesh metal one surrounding a construction site. This one’s hard for even her to balance and the emptiness should force their other friend down. It works, but unfortunately, they were already ahead of her and Nightwing drops down in her path. As if she’s going to run straight to him. She makes a jump to the nearest digger, landing on its arm, slipping down the metal a bit, her boots really aren’t suited for this.

Her pursuers need to use grappling hooks to make up the gap she jumped, giving her enough time to slide down the arm of the digger, the roof giving her a good surface to jump to the next machine. Nightwing lands next to her as she races along the bucket of a dump truck. She jumps down into the empty basket, the metallic clang ringing out in the quiet night.

Predictably, they follow her down, blocking the exit. Lucky for her she is able to jump high enough to land back on the roof with a little flip. Without bothering to look back at their reaction she jumps to the next highest point which happens to be a cement tube being suspended by a crane.

She runs along the inside, the structure swinging a bit at the movement. Her curse echos through the tube as Robin jumps in, blocking her exit. Turning around Nightwing is on the other side, both closing in. Robin is closer, approaching with a sword so she does the only sane thing, ducking below it to punch him. He jumps back, landing the force of it has the tube swinging more, sending them all off balance for a second. Marinette uses the distraction to bring out her staff, meeting Nightwing’s weapon head-on. There's strength behind it but not more than she can bear, using the movement of the tube to force him back a step or two.

She doesn't’ have long to spend on Nightwing as Robin attacks her back. She moves the staff to meet the katana facing away from him. Nightwing doesn't immediately attack her so she pivots around to meet Robins's next swing. She paries with her staff, noticing there is less strength behind it as he expected that. Playing off his expectations the next swing she pretends to parry, using her wrists to change the direction of the staff at the last moment she lets the sword graze her shoulder, it cuts into her a little more as the tubes swing forces her to step into it. She lets the staff go the force of it hitting Robin's side, she uses the precious second to twist his hand holding the Katana. Using a pressure point Master fu had been taught by the guardians, she needs some Ladybug strength to make it work through the glove but he releases it with a hiss.

Catching the Katana she spins around to brandish it against Nightwing, having expected him to make his move already. Instead, he raises his hands, which are still holding his weapons.

“We didn’t come here to fight,” He explains when Starling doesn't lower the weapon.

“Oh, you did a fine job of that didn’t you?” She scoffs, half turning to face them both, having to shift to keep balance in the rocking tube, not at all happy with their brief fight. Robin is on her other side, now holding her staff in a mirror of her with his Katana, “So what do you want?"

“You’re looking for a jewelry box right?” Nightwing asks, how did they know about the miracle box? Did they know what it was? Had they figured it out from the pool?

“What’s it to you?”

“We were just going to offer our help,” He says kindly, but Marinette had met far too many people(or just one person) who used a kind tone falsely, it brings her guard up more. Then again she desperately needed their help, if they knew what she was actually looking for or not. If worse came to worse she supposed she could transform into Ladybug, or with another miraculous and pretend that was why she was in Gotham in the first place.

“What do you know about it?” She demands, had they seen other miraculous already?

“First you tell us why it’s so important,” Robin snaps, growling slightly as she threatens him with his own sword. Nightwing gives him a pointed look, silence hanging as the tube swung back and forth lightly.

He made it seem like he didn’t know, but it could be a trap to see how much she knew. Or they really didn’t have the information and were trying to get it out of her. She could say Marinette asked her to find it, but that would risk both identities and possibly even reveal her as Ladybug. Marinette had once received the miraculous, maybe she could pretend Ladybug had handed her the box for safekeeping while on a special mission. It wasn't something Ladybug would actually do but she had never talked with the Justice League so they wouldn’t know that. Could she pass herself off as being three different miraculous holders? Depends on how fast she can find the fox miraculous. In the meantime.

“A girl had it stolen, I bumped into her and she asked me to look for it, that's all,” Starling shrugs, relaxing her pose, lowering the sword some.

“Why?” Robin demands, even as Nightwing seemed to accept the answer.

“It’s a nice thing to do?” Starling posed it more as a question, forcing herself to drop out of the defensive pose, “Speaking of nice things to do, I give you back the Katana and you give me back my staff?”

Robin scowls but accepts the exchange. Starling holds her weapon loosely at her side.

“So what’s the plan, you got any leads?” She looks at Nightwing, eyes narrowing in annoyance, “Cause your boss kind of chased off my only one,”

“Sorry about that,” Nightwing rubs the back of his neck, “You know, just random person threatening a civilian and all that,”

“Yeah sure,” She gives him a flat look, “So do you have any leads or not?”

“Follow me,” He turns, leading the way out of the tube, Starling hesitates to face her back to Robin but ultimately follows him out. It’s easy enough to keep pace until they come to a much too high building.

“Yeah, there's no way I can make that,” She looks down at the gap for the street, then the good thirty feet of height the next building over had on them.

“Hold on then,” Nightwing grins at her, holding a hand out, “You alright with this?”

“As long as you don’t let me splat on the road we should get along just fine,” Nightwing gives her a dazzling smile, she still holds on tight as they are pulled up to the roof by the grappling hook.

On the roof, the first person she spots is Batman, which is quite the feat with the bright colors of Red Robin's suit right next to him. Batman just gives her a nod as they land, she raises a brow at that, um, no?

“I’m surprised that wasn't all a plot to get rid of me,” She lets the bitterness into her voice, who throws knives at people before asking what they’re doing?! “What's that on the pavement? Oh not to worry it’s just Starling! Oh, I’m sure Batman had nothing to do with it, look no tacky knives around! That serves more purpose as a collector's item than an actual weapon by the way,”

Batman looks at her with as much shock as the stoic can muster, while Red Robin next to him tries to turn his snort into a cough.

“So you go by Starling then?” he says gruffly and that cannot be his real voice.

“Well I had hoped I said it loud enough the other day for you to catch but I guess your hearing is as bad as your eyesight, how quickly did you lose me in that crowd again?”

“You’re upset,”

“You’re very astute for the, what was it?” She looks at Robin for dramatic effect, “World's greatest detective, was it? Yeah…. Rrrriiiight,”

There must be something going around since both Red Robin and Nightwing seem to be coughing an awful lot, the sound suspiciously close to a laugh.

“So, since you ruined my only lead I hope you have something to make up for it,” She switches back to business before Batman can regain his bearings enough to retaliate.

“We haven't seen any report filed so we were thinking you could give us a description-”

“That's the thing,” Starling cuts Red Robin off, she could tell where this was going and did not have time for it, “How did you even hear about this if no report has been filed? I’m starting to get the feeling you're just doing this just because of me,”

“... well-”

“Worry not then, rest assured I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I fulfill my promise,” She gives a quick bow, and yeah she can see why Chat finds this fun, "Trust me I have no desire to stick around longer than that after this welcome,"

“We can’t just let a meta-human run around my city-”

“First of all,” Was cutting off the Batman a good idea? No, but that wasn't going to stop her? No, “You really can’t do anything to stop me, legally and morally, despite you thinking it’s your city you’re still as much an illegal vigilante as I am, quite frankly you don’t have the authority to kick me out,”

“Second, a meta-human? Yeah not quite, and no I will not clarify,” She stares him down, “If your problem is with me being a meta-human there are a lot more vigilantes than me running around with powers that you let fly, not that is should really matter anyway,”

“Third, you don’t care about this,” well if they didn’t know about the miraculous the didn't, “I know your wheelhouse and petty theft isn’t on your radar, so why don’t you let me do my job in peace and I’ll leave you to yours,”

She looks them all over, sparing a second to take note of their shock, before turning on her heel. It’s then she realizes they are really high up and she has no way to get down. Well, might as well make his meta-human theory harder.

“Hey, they didn’t know anything,” She says, bringing her hand up to her ear, pretending to press a communicator, “Pick me up will you?”

She waits a second so they think she’ll be staying awhile, then jumps off the ledge. She calls on Kaalki quickly, hoping to transform quickly enough they don’t notice her costume change before she disappears into a portal, landing in her hotel room.

“You know I’m starting to think I should stop pissing them off,” Marinette says out loud, dropping the transformation.

“You think? Are you going to transform every time you meet them,” Kaalki scoffs, but is handed a sugar cube before they can complain too much.

“It wasn't the best approach,” Tikki says gently, flying out of her cape.

“I know,” Marinette pulls off her mask, “But the less time I spend around them the better, I just need to find the miraculous quickly before they realize,”

“If they haven't already,” Pollen says solemnly, settling in on the bed.

“Well the best I can hope if they don’t think I know anything and know just as much themselves,” Marinette flops down onto the bed with the Kwamis, “And that they stay out of my way from now on, hopefully, the rest of the trip runs smoothly enough I can keep slipping off to look for the miraculous,”

Her Kwamis accept this, curling close she starts to drift off, before a horrible realisation strikes;

"I'm getting blood on the bed!"

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

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