#Hope the expressions land well! that's the only part of this I'm unsure of | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

particular-one · 9 months

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hello!! how are you? i hope youre doing well!! im not sure if your requests are open, so feel free to delete this ask if your reqs are closed <33

soo my idea was a dan heng x gn!reader. angst with comfort/fluff? basically reader is a bit unsure and insecure of their relationship and thought of maybe that dan heng deserved a better partner, so they decided to distance themselves a little and slowly broke up with him.

i'll leave it up to you for the ending and dan heng's reaction! please take your time with this request and feel free to reject it if you dont feel comfortable with it!! also im unsure if u made smth similar to this so um yeah ansndjd HAVE A GREAT DAY!!

what if it doesn’t end well?

pairing. dan heng x gn! reader author's note. dunno if you read my mind or smth anon... but i had literally been thinking abt writing smth along these lines before you sent the ask, so i was so jawdropped seeing this in my inbox SJDJDKSJD sorry for the wait anon! i hope you liked this :>

you very well knew just how lucky you are to have someone like dan heng as your partner, your other half.

dan heng, who would, without fail, place a warm blanket or his own coat over you when he found you sprawled on the couches of the express. dan heng, who would wake you up to the smell of freshly cooked cosmic fried rice for your breakfast — which resulted to march and pom pom complaining where their shares are.

dan heng, who would give your head a pat, before bringing you into his arms for the tighest embrace whenever you looked even remotely down.

he was good. too good for you.

you had always imagined that your perfect partner would be someone like him, so your relationship was indeed, a dream come true. your thoughts should have ended already, there and then.

except, it had constantly wandered to the deep end— to the dreaded land of uncertainty and insecurity.

somehow, you saw how dan heng would barely be able to stifle his laughter when march would say something hilarious. you'd watch as how dan heng would look like he would be out of breath, but no doubt having way more fun when he was out adventuring with the trailblazer. even with welt, there was a certain change of demeanor that you didn’t see when he was around you.

bit by bit, your worries had gotten the better of you. could he have been merely settling for you? what if you weren't actually his dream partner, and you were just shackling him down?

"y/n?"

you had been too preoccupied with your own thoughts that march had been looking over at you worriedly, a can of bottled soda in her hand. your eyes had glanced over to dan heng, who had been equally staring at you, but his expression was inscrutable.

that was the hardest part with dan heng. you could never quite tell what he was thinking.

you cleared your throat and forced a smile. "yeah, i'm fine." though dan heng did not look all that convinced, march seemed rather satisfied with your reply and returned to rambling animatedly.

you actually felt bad that you had been zoning march out, but your worries had only multipled in magnitude as of late, when you had been mulling over your relationship for the past few days. your fingers were absentmindedly grazing over your cup again when you heard your name again.

"yeah, y/n! just how were you able to break down the cold exterior of dan heng, anyways?" the question had taken you by surprise, and at the corner of your eye, you could see dan heng had been looking at you with a careful expression — again, you still couldn't completely tell what he had been thinking.

"uh..." how did you, actually? the both of you had only been dating for a little over two months now, but you couldn't... remember. had it been you or dan heng that had approached the other for the possibility of a relationship?

"i... well, i guess dan heng had just allowed for it to happen, honestly." you weren't so sure of your answer, but your heart sank a little when you saw dan heng's expression change, his eyebrows raised.

though he was quick to conceal it, the fact that you had seen it only confirmed the worst of your nightmares. "oooooh, is that true, dan heng—?"

"sorry, i don't.. feel so good right now. can i excuse myself?” eyes were on you again, but before they could say anything to stop you, you bowed briefly and took your leave.

just as you were making your way to your room on the express, you could hear footsteps behind you. unmistakably, his footsteps. “y/n.”

“mm-hm?” you mumbled, not even turning back to face him. the last thing you wanted to see was dan heng’s inscrutable expression again. there was a pause, before he spoke again. “are you sure you’re okay?”

without missing a beat, you laughed, hoping it did not come out bitterly. “yeah. i am, don’t worry about me. you can go back to them.” you still didn’t want to meet his gaze, just as you heard him step towards you.

you had half expected that maybe, dan heng would wrap his arms around you in comfort, or that he’d declare those three words to you just to give you some semblance of security. you waited, just as you had his back on him.

silence, before you heard his footsteps once again, but they only grew fainter in sound.

so he chose to leave. that’s okay. it's okay.

you could hardly blink back your tears as you ran back into your room in a hurry before anyone on the express would ask you that same dreaded question again.

no. you weren’t okay.

━━━━━━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━

the following days involved a wild game of hide and seek from dan heng. which ... wasn't all that easy when you live in the same train as him. the longer it dragged on, the harder it got, but you just wanted to avoid seeing dan heng as much as possible.

you could feel dan heng's stare pierce your back each time you darted away or when you made up some excuse that you needed to be in the room that he wasn't in. the fact that you even offered your cleaning services to pom pom so you would busy yourself with thoughts that did not concern him.

"you sure nothing's going on, y/n—?" you nodded absentmindedly, just as himeko set down a heaping plate of food and a cup of her infamous coffee in front of you. "you know, typically you'd ask dan heng for breakfast..." you easily took a large gulp of the coffee in your mouth to avoid talking about that, instead shaking your head. you regretted that almost instantly, the bitterness of the coffee making you cough unprompted.

"n-nope! nothing's wrong."

it'll probably take more than that to convince himeko, who had leaned back against the couch with a raised brow just as march entered with a jovial smile and greeting with welt after her.

and dan heng. oh shit.

your utensils fell on the table with a clang, as you mumbled yet another excuse to get out there — you felt bad to see himeko's face fall when you just abandoned that good plate of breakfast like that, but you were much more concerned with your distancing mission.

"y/n, wait—" but you couldn't wait. you did not need him to cloud your thoughts any further. you pushed the door past where march and the others had entered from, as your pace quickened.

"y/n." no. don't. you didn't want to run, but you were growing desperate.

"y/n!" you felt a hand on your shoulder and you finally whirled back to meet his gaze for the first time in days. you had been anticipating to see that unreadable expression of his, but you were hit with a wave of surprise and a pang to the heart.

he was staring into your eyes, his eyes brimming in worry and concern. dan heng always had a piercing gaze, but even if this one still sent shivers down your spine, it had an odd way of enveloping your body with a sensitive warmth that only brought out the worst of your emotions out.

he still had that effect on you; he'll always have.

"y/n, what's wrong?" he kept his distance, save for the hand on your shoulder just as you cast your eyes downward. "you've been avoiding me since that night. i.."

"i think we should break up." you were almost grateful that you hadn't been looking at him when you finally blurted it out loud. only, you had regretted to look up and see his reaction.

dan heng had always been distant and unreadable; even when you were going out, you knew there were always things that he hid from you. yet, at that moment, you could have sworn all his walls broke down to unveil the pained soul underneath.

"is it something i did?" it was a simple question, but even the way dan heng said it quietly made your heart clench. "no, no, no. it's not. you've done nothing wrong."

"is it me, then?" even when you had withstood the harshest of battles, nothing quite like this had ripped your heart out before.

"no— dan heng, it's not you, or something you've done, or anything about you, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me—"

"then why?" his last question come out choked in emotion, something you had not been prepared for to witness at all. it just made your heart break even more, just as you were unwillingly breaking his. you're shaking your head, just as you turned your back on him again, but his hand held onto you tightly, not letting go.

"y/n, i don't understand why—" "it's because you're too good for me!"

"you're dependable when i'm the opposite, you've always made sure that i would be warm with a blanket when i foolishly fall asleep outside of my room again. hell, you're one of the pillars of this express, and i ... i..." had you been screaming? you felt like you were already out of breath, your heart was starting to throb as if you had forgotten how to breathe, but everything just kept tumbling out. "i just- i just don't know what you see in me—."

you could hardly register what was going on when dan heng cupped your face before kissing you mid-sentence. you could feel even the heaviest of your emotions evaporate as you allowed his warmth to finally envelop you in a calming embrace, the very touch you had been undeniably craving for for the past few days.

dan heng slowly pulled away from you, just as he brushed a tear rolling down your cheek. "hey. i love you, okay? i love you, even if you're picky about the food i cook. even if you'd constantly forget my reminders about not staying out late, i still love you." you had nodded, just as you wrapped your arms around his chest tightly. dan heng wrapped his arm around your head and tucked you in his embrace.

"but what if things don't end well?" you murmured, just as dan heng pulled away to hold your face in his hands. "then i'll stave that off for as long as possible." he gave your forehead a soft kiss, before giving you a smile.

"and if you think you're only good for nothing, know that you'll always be everything to me."

written by carlyle (@particular-one) copyright: all content belongs to particular-one on tumblr (2023)

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navigatorwriting · 4 months

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The villain found them on a rooftop on the west side of the city. They landed a few meters behind the hero with a soft thud, just loud enough to announce their arrival. The hero didn't turn around, only stared straight ahead, gently swinging their legs from their seat on the edge of the building.

"Hey," the villain said quietly. "I heard what happened today."

When the hero didn't respond, the villain sat down next to them and continued. "I'm sorry it had to be like that. We've all been there."

The hero nodded slightly. Good, the villain thought. A reaction. That meant the hero wasn't completely numb.

"Do you... want to talk about it?"

The hero sniffed, the corners of their mouth tugging downward ever so slightly.

Well, it was worth a try. The villain patted the hero on the shoulder. "You made a hard choice. It's okay if you can't come to terms with it yet."

The villain was about to stand up and leave when to their surprise, the hero put their hand on top of the villain's, holding it to their shoulder. The villain froze, unsure what to do next.

The hero stared straight ahead, eyes unfocused on the setting sun. "I knew it was possible." They tilted their head thoughtfully. "And it was bound to happen at some point. I know I'm taking a risk with everyone I tell, it just...." They took a breath. "I just hoped it wouldn't be them."

The villain said nothing. There was nothing to say.

They remembered their own failed confession, a lover who couldn't come to terms with their split life. The villain had felt guilty for weeks after the incident. They still couldn't shake the image of their lover's horrified expression as the agents dragged them out of their shared apartment. The worst part was when the villain still had to break up with their lover after the mind wipe; the two of them met in a cafe and the villain had to pretend like nothing had happened. They gave some made-up excuse to end the relationship, and they could do nothing but sit there as they watched their lover's heart break for the second time in two days.

"Who was it?" The villain asked.

The hero took in a shuddering breath. "My mom."

Ah.

Wordlessly, the villain pulled the hero into a hug and held them against their chest. The two of them sat like that for a long time.

#fiction #snippet #writing #writeblr #hero x villain #hero #villain #protagonist #antagonist #protagonist x antagonist #villain x hero

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definitelynotafurinasimp · 4 months

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Well, since you're asking, how about Topaz and Himeko (Separately), with an S/O who is a kleptomaniac, so their room is full of things that were definitely not bought, there's a skiff from xianzhou, a robot from Belobog, and even a puppet from Herta. Normally they would ask to return it obviously, but what if their S/o was presenting their treasures to them with so much enthusiasm that they are thinking about what decision to make... Until they see a Stellaron as a lamp

Them with a kleptomaniac

characters: Himeko / Topaz x gn!reader (separately)

warnings: none

a/n: decided to make it a little bit *less* extreme, since stealing one a whole Stellaron might land someone in… serious trouble.

Also, I don't often write for Star Rail, so if I got smth wrong, please tell me, I'm always open to feedback.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Himeko

Himeko understood the importance of keepsakes better than anyone. With how many planets the Astral Express visited it was difficult to keep in touch with them all, so having a small souvenir to remember one’s adventures was a nice and effective way. A mindset the two of you shared… although as it turned out your definition of memento seemed to differ slightly.

Remaining on the Express while the others went on an adventure had its upsides. There was no threat looming over one's head, no responsibility of saving a world or defeating the big bad. Just a calm silence filled with the knowledge that there was nothing to worry about… In other words: It was boring.

“I only noticed when I went down on Javrilo-VI myself, but that pin you are wearing is from Belobog, right?” Himeko’s question punctured the silence, both of you having spent the last hour or so looking out the window at the ice-covered planet in front of you, the familiar sight causing her to remember what she had intended to ask so long ago.

Within an instant, your eyes lit up as you excitedly stared at her before nodding your head, seemingly happy one of your colleagues finally noticed.

“Do you want one as well? I have a full box of them in my room”, you quickly offered as your legs started to move on your own, vanishing through the door before she had a chance to stop you.

A full box? That was… a concerning amount of something to keep as a keepsake. And yet, with how eager you seemed to collect as many mementos as you could, it didn’t seem too far-fetched for you to have asked for it at some point.

When you returned with a collection of different pins in your hand however, Himeko’s skepticism turned into full-on suspicion.

“Which one of them is more to your liking? There’s this one made out of surprisingly light metal, even though it looks pretty sizable you cant even feel it tug on your shirt. Oh! Or this one plated in gold, that one was quite difficult to get my hands on, since the light reflective off of it nearly made Pela notice. Or do you like this one more?”, you explained while showing one pin after another into her hands, making it that much more difficult to get a good look at the small inscription on them.

“Wait. What was that last part about?”, Himeko suddenly cut you off, looking at you with a baffled expression you or your fellow trailblazers didn't get to see all too often, in turn causing you to slightly tilt your head in confusion.

“When I… grabbed the pin plated in gold the light of the sun reflected on it and nearly caused Pela to notice”, you slowly repeated yourself, sounding unsure about which part caught her attention as your mind began to wander over the possibilities.

“You just grabbed all of them and took them with you without anyone noticing?”

“Yeah? Wait. How do you get your keepsakes?”, you asked bewildered, taking a quick glance down at your pins before looking back up at her, a hint of red finding its way onto your cheeks.

“Y/N. What other mementos did you take with you?”, Himeko’s expression grew more serious, her question sounding a lot more than an interrogation now than before, something that didn’t get better when silence filled the room as you didn’t answer, suddenly averting her gaze.

“...Do you remember when Asta told us about one of Herta’s puppets going missing?”

Topaz

The Xianzhou Luofu’s residents and the IPC had… polite relations at best, often clashing over different approaches of how to handle trade. So hearing that her partner did a stellar job at juggling making profits and improving relations with the populace whenever her higher-ups sent them there filled Topaz with something akin to pride, not comparable to what she felt whenever she accomplished something remarkable herself, but still enough to make her appreciate you even more.

And yet, whenever she heard her own higher-ups mention your name, it was often followed by a complaint or comment about paying for something out of your pocket.

“Topaz? Are you alright?”, your voice ripped her out of her thoughts, suddenly once again finding herself in front of the door you had led her to, only to see it wide open as she managed to see a collection of all kinds of different items on the other side.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was just spacing out”, Topaz quickly apologized before stepping into the large room, taking a look around herself as she felt her mouth slightly open in awe. “Are those all from the Luofu?”

“Mhm”, you hummed in approval before striking a proud pose. “It took a long time and effort, but I’d say it was worth it”, you stated before showing Topaz a small smile. Seemed like she wasn’t the only one that liked to collect things, only that she liked to adopt small animals and you keepsakes from your jobs. And yet, just as she was about to say something once again, her eyes landed on what was obviously a starskiff…

“Wow. How much does a starskiff even cost? You must have saved up a long time to put enough money on the table that they agreed to sell you one, right?” Topaz asked half-jokingly with a big smile on her lips as she reached out to touch it, still surprised to see it in a place like this.

“Who knows? I honestly doubt they’d agree to sell it to me even if I put all the money in the world on the table.”

Your statement caused Topaz to freeze in motion, as her head slowly turned towards you. “But if they’d never agree to sell this to you, how do you have one here-?”

And then it all started to suddenly make a lot of sense. The complaints from the higher-ups, the fees they’d use your salary to pay, the fact that you did such a great job and still didn’t manage to get a promotion and last but not least the special guide the Luofu sent to accompany you at all times that you told her about… a guide that suddenly sounded more like a babysitter.

Oh no.

#star rail x reader #himeko x you #himeko x reader #himeko #hsr himeko #hsr topaz #topaz x reader #topaz x y/n #topaz x you #himeko x y/n #hsr himeko x reader

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brabblesblog · 7 months

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Hope

Part 7 of the Goodnight Moon series.

After your disastrous confession, Astarion finally manages to tell you what he feels. Aka the confession scene from act 2, rewritten.

Read on AO3.

Part 6

Part 8

Masterlist.

"Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk."

Your eyes flick up to meet wide crimson ones, watching you with an expression you couldn't really put into words. The two of you had been avoiding each other after the last time he kissed you - well, you had been avoiding him, anyway. It didn't feel right after what he had said.

I don't do love. Let's just keep this fun, alright?

After that last kiss, you knew you couldn't bear any more of his touch than was necessary. You knew it would give you momentary joy, only to break your heart right after. So you kept your distance. Less painful that way.

You can feed on me tonight, if you'd like, would be the only thing you'd say, and once he'd agreed you would walk away, forcing your legs to move in the opposite direction. More than once you've heard him attempt to say something, but you've slowly mastered pretending to be deaf as you marched yourself away from the one person who mattered to you.

He would still come at night, the situation in the shadow cursed lands necessitating that he feed on you. You would talk, but it would always be surface level. He'd reach for your clenched fists as he always did before, but you would shy away from his touch. Eventually he stopped trying.

Today had been a tiring day, like all the others lately. You had taken your usual spot by the fire, reading a book. The story was one you've read before as a child, but the familiarity was a comfort in these dreary lands.

Astarion was biting his lip, looking rather unsure of himself. This was such an odd thing to see, and concern flooded your face. You stand up, tossing the book towards your pack.

"Are you alright?"

He winces a little at the question, then lets out a soft huff. The next words come out in a nervous burst.

"Oh yes, I'm fine. I just... I feel awful."

Your eyes scan him up and down, trying to figure out what was wrong. Was he hungry or injured? He never asked to feed after that first day, but there was always a chance.

"Look-" he begins, and there was so much urgency in that word that your eyes immediately snap back to his face.

"I had a plan. A nice, simple plan - seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you'd never turn on me."

He laughs - a nervous, terrified sound - and pushes through.

"It was easy - instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it."

It was your turn to bite your lip and cross your arms. So that was what it all was. The sex, those sweet words, the coldness and distance every time he took you to bed.

He noticed your body language, and he shrank away in response. He knew what the potential outcome for this conversation would be, but he needed you to know. To hold his heart in your hands and to know everything that was in it.

"And all I had to do was not fall for you... which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart."

His voice grew soft, almost cracking. His eyes met yours, searching for anything that would tell him how you felt. They had never been more soft, you think to yourself.

"You- ... you're incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real."

He watches you with bated breath. The world falls silent, just him hanging onto the next thing you'll say. You shift your feet to buy some time. It hurt, hearing that. You had suspected something similar, but to hear it felt like your heart was being torn out. At the same time, you understood.

"So... the nights we spent together didn't mean anything?"

You had to know. They had meant so much to you.

He almost sounds exasperated, which would be funny in any other situation, but not right now.

"Of course they did - that's the problem! Or part of it." He grows serious, expression darkening.

"Being close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back for him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels... tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing."

He takes a shaky breath, eyes soft again. Pleading for you to understand.

"I don't know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I'd like to."

You nod, once. It stung, and that pit in your chest felt like it could spill out and extinguish everything if you let it. You take a couple of moments to answer, calming yourself. You can deal with your issues later. For now, he needed you to be strong.

"I care about you. Deeply."

He already knew this, heard you say it, but this time was different. Something stirred in his chest, something which had never allowed himself to have in so long. Hope.

"Really?"

You close the distance, wrapping your arms around him. He winces, not knowing what to expect, then freezes as he feels you all around him. The shock slowly fades, replaced with an overwhelming warmth erupting from his chest. Slowly, he returns your embrace, tucking his head against your shoulder.

As you two hug, you open your mind to him, showing him the truth - that you have loved him for a while now, that you wanted him not just in the way he thought you did. You wanted him safe, wanted him happy, wanted him to have everything he deserved and did not get. That his joy brought you joy, whether it be with you or without you. Try as you might though, a little bit of the pain you feel bleeds through to him. He sighs at the contact, wanting it to last forever, and when you pull away he almost begs you to not do so.

"You... you are full of surprises, aren't you?"

He's almost breathless. He knows there is work to be done, and that neither you nor him know what it really means.

"Honestly, I have no idea what we're doing. Or what comes next."

He gathers his courage and takes your hand, meeting your eyes, hoping that you understand that despite how it had all started, he does mean it now. That he had been falling for you for some time as well, but that he did not know how to approach it, or see it until it he was drowning in it. That the guilt he feels for manipulating you had been eating him up inside. That he could never bear seeing you hurt, especially after that day in the creche. He wishes he could show it to you like you had for him, but it still feels like too much.

"But I know that this? This is nice."

I will show you. I promise, he tells you in his head.

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mrsalwayswrite · 2 years

Text

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 17

I'm back! I'm so sorry its taken me months to update. Life took a turn for the busy. During this time I've had people ask and I promise I have no intentions of abandoning this fic, even if it takes me months to update. I'm enjoying this story too much, and I hope you are too.

Also this chapter was a tough one to write. So I suggest you buckle up your seatbelts because the angst train is here since its Ivar's POV! Hopefully the length also makes up for the wait!

min skatt– my treasure

Words: 9400

Warnings: language, implied drug use, mild sexual content, brief mentions of violence, Ivar doesn't handle feelings well

Series Masterlist

Ivar fucked up.

He knew it. His family knew it. Hell, it might as well be broadcasted on global news at this point.

He had fucked up.

Severely.

That thick, tar-like feeling of betrayal had coated his nerve endings, dulled his mind and made his black heart stone-cold. The sensation of betrayal was not unusual, but he hated it. With every cell of his body, he loathed it. Anger was an escape, a way to get out of the suffocating void that betrayal tried to drown him in. So he latched onto the familiar burn of anger, a welcomed friend by this point in his life.

But when the fire burned out, when he could see past the comforting haze of red…it was to the sight of fear in Kari's blue-green eyes and tears running down her cheeks.

Immediately, he knew he fucked up in the worst way possible. And when she ran from him, he could not blame her. Even if every step she took away from him was a knife repeatedly to the gut. But her expressive eyes, they told him how badly he had messed up. She had dealt with plenty of his shit but this…this was the line crossed. He could not even get mad at her for it, for self-loathing had wrapped its tentacles around him and squeezed.

He had lost her. His gift from the gods. His kitten.

His Kari.

He vaguely remembered screaming and demanding his brothers and Floki release him. Could barely recall landing a solid punch to Sigurd that busted his knuckles and broke his brother's nose. Somehow he ended up on the floor whimpering her name with cold tears slipping from his eyes as Floki kept his arms wrapped around him, either to keep him restrained or to comfort, Ivar was unsure. But it did not matter.

In a single moment, he knew he had lost her.

And it was his own fucking fault.

When Ragnar returned later, Ivar could barely get words to come out, his tongue felt heavy and his stomach full of stones. His father had taken one look at him and sighed.

"Leave her alone. I told her you'd stay away. Don't make me fucking put security on you to keep away from her. She's got enough shit to deal with now."

Ivar nodded silently. Promising himself he would.

But the next day he broke that promise.

It was an all-consuming need to see her, to check on her, to make sure she did not despise him as much as he did himself. He tried to sneak away, however idiotic that was. A crippled bastard trying to sneak out of the house, where every footfall was as loud as a gong. Standing at the door, phone in hand to call a driver, Floki had found him. He took one look at the child of his heart and told him to get into his car. That he would drive him, but only this once.

Ivar was unsure what he had expected when choosing to visit Kari. Hell, he was not even sure she would be home. All he knew was at some point during the night, while he laid awake on his bed, sleep evading him like a mocking ghost, he knew he had to see her. Fuck what Ragnar said.

When she walked away, she had taken part of his heart with her. Whoever cliché that sounded, and he would never admit it aloud. Yet that was how it felt. And now he needed to know if he would ever get that blackened, bleeding organ back from her delicate, gentle hands.

In his mind, the best case scenario of his unexpected arrival would involve her running into his arms, him reassuring her he never meant to hurt her, immediately followed by hot make-up sex that lasted for hours.

The worst case scenario? He would walk in the door and she would shoot him. No…he would walk in the door and she would coldly tell him she never wanted to see him again, that whatever they had was over and how much she hated him. He would gladly take being shot instead of hearing her say anything like that.

What he walked in on- seeing her curled up on the couch, with red-rimmed eyes and tear stains on her cheeks- that felt like someone took a whip at what remained of his heart and attempted to shred it.

When he happened to notice the faintest discoloration along her jawline…the lashings began in earnest.

Then her words, her hesitation. It all tore at him.

"I need time, Ivar."

Another lashing of the whip.

But he absorbed the pain, welcomed it because he deserved every stroke. What he did was unforgivable, but somehow he hoped she would.

Gods, he hoped she could forgive him.

He did not linger, feeling his concrete reinforced composure cracking under the weight of his self-loathing and turmoil.

Thankfully, Floki never said a word when Ivar reentered the car. Nor did he question when Ivar put in a food order to be delivered to Kari.

Afterwards, the entire drive was silent.

Back at the house, he could feel Floki's shrewd gaze on him but he ignored it. He only spared his brothers a glance before retreating to his room. To the isolation and darkness there. To where he could cry without anyone seeing.

At some point that despair morphed into anger and before he realized it, he found himself in the home gym. He had no recollection of walking out of his room and to the gym. But in the moment, it did not matter. All he cared about was ruthlessly pounding on the punching bag.

All of his self-loathing. All of his anger directed at himself, at his family, at the whole fucking world. All of his pain and despair. All for it he poured into his punches. Each slam of his fist on the fabric drained a little more from the reservoir overflowing inside of him.

When his bones broke under the onslaught, he never relented.

As blood splattered the bag, the floor and himself, he persevered.

His whole vision had tunneled into needing to feel the pain, into pouring out his frustration. He breathed in the pain and let it wash over him.

He was not one for going to church, none of the Lothbroks were. But this. Each punch. Each sharp stab of pain. Each coating of blood flying from his own body. It all felt like a penance. It was no Hail Mary or Our Father. But this was even more raw, more real for Ivar.

For he knew blood. He knew pain.

What better way to atone for his sins than to punish himself with both?

He was unsure how long he slaved away at his personal penance until they found him.

Ubbe and Hvitserk pinned him to the floor. His blood stained their hands. His heart and lungs were in overdrive yet his mind was blissfully silent. He could vaguely hear Floki say something about a broken hand and they needed to take him to the hospital.

The rest of the night was spent with nurses and doctors, x-rays and a black cast on his hand and forearm. The sterile smell of the hospital burned his nose. The grating voices of the hospital staff asking questions and reading his extensive records irritated him.

But he kept silent.

All he could hope for, all he could pray for, was his atonement could somehow make up for his sins. That his blood shed could replace the pain he caused.

That his offering would be enough.

*****

The following day he spent in solitude. No matter how many times someone knocked on his door, he never answered. The one time Hvitserk tried to stick his head in, Ivar threw a drinking glass at him. Immediately after, Ivar cursed himself for the now shattered glass on the carpet. He knew he was acting pitiful yet he could not seem to rise above the deep well of depression and its thick cords wrapped around his body, dragging him further into its dark depths.

The only person he willingly chose to answer was his mother, but that was more out of self-preservation when she continuously called him for three minutes straight without stopping. The conversation had been brief and then he returned to watching TV while laying on his bed, trying his hardest to ignore the cast on his right hand and forearm and how much it fucking sucked to deal with.

At some point during the day, he had tossed his phone across the room, uncaring whether it broke or not. The temptation, the need, to text Kari, to call her, to profusely apologize and beg for her forgiveness was too much. She said she needed time. So he was going to damn well give it to her.

Fuck, if he could just forget it all for a while. Instead of drowning in thoughts of her. Of his self-loathing. Of how he always fucked up the best things in his life.

The next day an idea came to mind, a way to find a temporary reprieve from the swirling vultures of his thoughts.

He just needed his brother's help.

*****

Ivar and Hvitserk settled back onto the couches, the short table in front of them already with beers waiting for their pleasure. The loud thumping from the bass of the club's speakers could be felt in Ivar's chest. The shrill cries of the inebriation mixed with excitement filled the air as much as the music.

He pointedly ignored the fact, this was the very place he first met Kari and became consumed by her.

Ivar's fierce blue eyes scanned the crowd from his advantageous position about the main floor. For a Sunday night, the dance floor was packed and the line along the bar was full. He wondered if there was a special event or celebration causing it to be busier than normal. Not that he truly cared. The more people the better for his plan.

"So why are we here, Ivar?"

He looked over at his flaxen-haired brother. "I needed to get out."

"Yeah? Well I'm personally shocked this is the place you'd choose." Hvitserk waved to someone walking by that called his name but swiftly returned his attention to his younger brother. "So why are we here?"

"I told you–"

"And I'm calling bullshit, Ivar."

Ivar scoffed, taking a long draw of the beer in front of him. Only after initially reaching for the beer with his right hand and belatedly remembering it was in a cast before grabbing it with his left. It was a miracle he had not needed surgery for all the broken bones in his hand and wrist. The dumbass that he was, he had not even thought to wrap his hands before pummeling the punching bag. But what was another surgery to him? What was more broken bones to his crippled body? Physical pain was his closest companion. But this constant ache in his heart, this roiling torment, it was more than he could bear.

Hvitserk sighed. "I know you're hurting– don't give me that look, asshole– it's obvious to everyone with eyes. Look, if you wanted to just get drunk, we could have done that at home. So why are we here? Do you need a distraction? Someone to suck your cock? Is that why we're here?"

Ivar leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, mirroring his brother's pose. "I need something to get me out of my fucked up mind for a while."

"Okay…I'll go order a bottle of–"

"No," Ivar interrupted, "I need something else. I need the good stuff, Hvits."

Hvitserk blinked for a moment before immediately shaking his head and leaning back, as if distancing himself emphasized his refusal. "Ivar, no."

Ivar waited a second before continuing. "You know who has the best quality, who doesn't fuck around."

"Ivar….I don't do that anymore–I won't…not this."

The youngest Lothbrok understood his brother's hesitation, his wariness. It was a closely concealed secret of their family about Hvitserk's prior drug addiction and how it had almost killed it. He had been clean for close to two years now, but Ivar knew he still had connections even if he did not partake in the sampling anymore.

Ivar continued to stare at his older brother, just waiting. He knew he was an absolute, selfish bastard for asking this favor. Hvitserk had tried to protect his youngest brother as much as possible while he struggled with his addiction, and this was the one dark spot in Hvitserk's life that he tried to forget about or ignore. But right now, Ivar would do whatever necessary to get a break from his emotional pain. Including lying to his brother.

Hvitserk ran a hand down his face. "Just this once."

"Just this once." Ivar agreed.

He stood up, giving Ivar one more long look as if hoping Ivar would change his mind. When Ivar only stared back, Hvitserk shook his head, and wandered off with a "stay here" over his shoulder.

The dark-haired Lothbrok leaned back on the couch, arms across the back and surveyed the crowd once again. Years ago he had experimented with different substances, usually alongside Hvitserk, but while his brother enjoyed the sensations, Ivar did not. His mind was his greatest weapon, his most prolific asset. He disliked having his senses affected and his mind sluggish or useless. There had also been one too many accidents that left him in the hospital due to broken bones or lacerations that made him rethink the continued use. He did not mind getting a buzz from drinking, it was almost an obligation during family events, but he still felt in control then.

Tonight though, he wanted out of his head. Even for a little while.

Feeling eyes on him, his predatory gaze shifted towards the half stairs leading up to the restricted seating area. His blue eyes locked with a pair of bright green ones, belonging to a blonde with a black and gold dress that hugged her fit form like it had been painted on. He continued to watch her, curious to see what she would do next. Instead of looking away, she met his gaze head-on, running a finger along the low neckline of her dress.

A smirk grew on Ivar's face as he crooked a finger at her, beckoning her over.

It did not take long until his cock was down her throat.

He allowed the sweet bliss to fill him, to cloud his mind and focus on the pleasure her skilled tongue gave him. But even then, it was still Kari's name on the tip of his tongue when he came.

*****

Darkness swaddled Ivar in its cocoon of warmth, keeping him safe and at peace. Here, nothing mattered. In the darkness, he was nothing and everything. A serenity floated through and around him, even when his dreams were caked in blood and screams. Nothing could touch or harm him….

….until the abrupt sensation of cold water splashed across his face, delivering him back to the realm of the living.

"Fuckkkk….what the fuck?" Ivar groaned after jerking awake and wiping the water off this face. Now his pillow was wet. Whoever disturbed him was going to fucking die. Well, once the pounding in his head, echoing his heartbeat, stopped and pain no longer flared behind his eyelids. Fuck, the nausea churning in his gut threatened to escape its weak confines. His stomach itself was attempting to claw its way out of his body. Why did everything fucking hurt? What kind of hangover from hell was this?

"Mmm….what's going on, baby?" A sleep-laced, feminine voice said from beside him.

Her voice grated against his ears, only intensifying the psychotic marching band that had taken up residence in his brain. "Shut the fuck up." He growled as he screwed his eyes shut.

A signature giggle came from the end of the bed, quickly followed by, "does your head hurt? That's a shame."

Fuckkkkkkkk……

Silently, Ivar begged all the gods he knew of to kill him now. He could not deal with that deranged madman today. His whole body was revolting against him at the moment. Even his thoughts staggered and rolled like a drunken sailor onboard a ship. Why was everyone talking so loudly? Was it even possible for sound to hurt this much?

Of course, because the universe hated him and despised him since birth, the feminine voice began shrieking and flailing about on the bed. The hammers striking against his brain with each heartbeat magnified their strength, as if wielded by gods themselves. He groaned loudly, digging the heels of his hands into his forehead, wishing death on everyone who dared to make a single sound.

Finally, when he could not take her wordless panicking anymore, he rolled over (his stomach reminding him of the physical revolt it was currently throwing) and slapped his hand harshly over the woman's mouth.

"Shut up!"

After a moment, he could feel her give a slight nod and only then did he release her. With that, he finally opened his eyes. The morning light blazed through the window, the curtains fully drawn back allowing maximum light into the room. His eyes slammed shut once more, refusing to suffer another level of torture.

"Fucking sadists." He mumbled, pressing his face back into his damp pillow. He must have spoken loud enough because that signature giggle followed his statement, sending another wave of pain shooting through his brain.

Fingers abruptly started running through his hair and down his bare back. An attempt at soothing him but instead it did the opposite. His body stiffened and his fists clenched even as he laid face down on the bed.

"Don't touch me." He hissed through clenched teeth.

The fingers stilled.

Carefully he tilted his head and peeked over at the woman beside him. What he saw made him immediately regret it and curse his subconscious desires. She had brown hair that most likely had been straightened last night but was now sleep-tousled, with hints of curls returning. The mascara and eye shadow around her blue eyes was smudged. Full lips sat under a small, straight nose.

Wordlessly, Ivar turned away from her and felt his heart crack at the sight. He knew what it was and hated what his drunk self had done. With just that single glance, he knew his drunk self had chosen her for the faint similarities she had with Kari. Apparently his subconscious would only bring someone like her into his bed now. Gods, what was fucking wrong with him?

"Get out."

"What?" She questioned softly, her hand still on his shoulder.

He turned his head to glare at her. "Fucking leave."

"But baby…you said last night that you needed me. You made me promise to stay."

And there was the knife twisting in his gut, but he ignored the pain. He needed her and her irritating touch gone. He needed to wallow in his pain alone and without someone to remind him of his mistakes. Why the fuck would his drunk self pick her? What kind of masochist was he?

He closed his eyes, no longer willing to look at her. Someone that would never fulfill the throbbing ache in his chest. "Leave or I'll gut you."

He could sense the warring within her, the confusion and hesitation, and he wondered what else he had blathered at her about last night. What lies and promises had he spewed at her, even if it was truly another person those words were meant for.

"I suggest you go. I'm not in the mood to clean up blood today." Another bodiless voice said from somewhere in the room.

Ivar turned his head towards the voice but kept his eyes closed. "Hvits?"

"Morning, brother."

"Ugh. Fuck you."

His brother's answering chuckle made Ivar want to stab someone. Repeatedly.

The bed began to shift as the Kari look-alike started to get out, but when she tugged on the blanket to cover her nakedness, Ivar yanked the blanket back. He heard the quiet, surprised gasp but there was no remorse in him. She could parade naked down to the lobby for all he gave a shit. Shuffling and footsteps followed a clicking of what he assumed was the bathroom door.

"Here, you ungrateful bastard. Move that ass."

Ivar rolled over and carefully sat up. The room spun like a carnival ride and he held his head for a long moment, swearing and cursing amidst the pain. Once he was able to overcome the rising nausea, he accepted the water and pills, knowing he needed them since he doubted the two intruders would leave him alone anytime soon. Damn them.

As he sipped on the water, the bathroom door opened. The woman came out, wearing a maroon dress that looked like someone had taken artistic license to while wielding a knife. She met his eyes, holding one black heel. But whatever she was hoping for, Ivar refused to give her. He slid his gaze away from her, focusing straight ahead and the ugly artwork in the hotel room he found himself in. What hotel was this? It did not look familiar. He heard her scoff and her footsteps move towards the door.

"Hvitserk, help her out." The asshole said, who had taken a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Sure."

After the door closed, a pregnant silence fell on the two left in the hotel room. Ivar continued to sip on the water, staring straight ahead. The throbbing in his head felt relentless and his body ached as if he had gone a few rounds in the boxing ring. He thought about asking for someone to close the curtains, but his companion began speaking and it overshadowed his internal pain.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I lost my daughter in the woods?" Floki quietly asked.

Ivar's ears perked up, even as he kept staring forward. Floki hardly talked about his only child. Ivar had vague memories of her, influenced by his own young age since they were born a year apart. But he could never forget how at four years old she had died from leukemia. One of his earliest solid memories was watching Floki silently weeping as he cradled a hysterical Helga to his chest, his eyes never straying from the pyre he had built for his daughter's body.

Without waiting for Ivar's answer, he continued. "Hmmm….it was one of the few times she wasn't in the hospital. She was like her mother, always wanting fresh flowers, listening to the birds' sing, smiling at the sun. It was…" He sighed, and Ivar could hear the pain and regret in the man's voice.

"I needed a new tree for a boat and I promised she could come with me. She was so small for her age, so fragile. I got distracted…found the perfect tree and was measuring it. But that was long enough for her to wander off. The panic I felt, Ivar, I can't tell you the complete goddamn terror I experienced as I tried to find my little girl. When she didn't reply as I screamed her name…I thought she'd–" This time he shook his head. "I finally found her, watching birds in the trees above. I scolded her severely, made her cry, but then I hugged her like my life depended on it. I'll never forget the terror I felt that day. Even though it's been over twenty years and she's been gone just as long. I'll never forget." The last sentence came out in a whisper, an audible ode to the harrowing event.

The next several seconds passed in silence before Ivar broke it. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Do you know what day it is, Ivar?"

"What? Why does that fucking matter?"

Floki reached out his long arm and swatted the side of Ivar's head. "Because you selfish, crippled bastard, you've been missing for thirty hours."

"The fuck–'"

"Ivar, listen," Floki interrupted before Ivar could question the validity of the statement. "The gods may have taken my daughter but they gifted me you as a son. And the fear I felt when Hvitserk told me he couldn't find you and you weren't answering your phone…I should beat your ass. I'm too old to deal with this shit anymore."

Ivar sat mutely, his mind reeling with everything Floki had said. How could he be missing for that long? That made no sense. He remembered going to the club with Hvitserk and his brother bringing him the chosen poison and deliverance he had practically begged for. Then there was a girl with blue eyes….or were they green? He could vaguely recall, like looking through a cloudy window, talking with someone about how they had more of the good stuff at their apartment. He remembered huge tits in his face and a woman moaning his name above him.

He glanced down at his right hand, seeing the cast on it still. There were new drawings and several phone numbers on it now from a bright silver marker. Why could he not remember any of that? When did he arrive at the hotel? What kind of shit had he been on?

Logically, he knew Floki had every right to scold him. It was a miracle it was not Ragnar himself chastising him. All the Lothbroks knew that with their rise in power and business accomplishments, it also painted a target on their backs for any that would seek to undermine or destroy them. For one of them to go missing…that would become paramount. Everything else would screech to a staggering halt until the missing person was returned. And for it to be him…with the vast wealth of information and security locked away in his mind. It could easily eradicate the company and their family if that knowledge was given to the wrong person.

As if sensing where Ivar's thoughts led, Floki softly spoke. "Your father doesn't know. He thinks you've been holed up at home. Hvitserk came to me."

A whoosh of air expelled from his lungs, draining the staggering concern and stress that had momentarily crashed over him. "Thanks." He murmured.

"I know you're hurting. You can't deny what my old eyes see. So I've one question for you…what in the hel are you doing, boy?"

"What are you–"

Floki swatted his head again. "Have you numbed the pain? Do you feel better now?"

"Fuck off. You don't know–"

"And that's where you're wrong again, foolish child. I do know." He leaned forward, forcing Ivar's gaze to meet his, the bed shifting under the movement. "What happened with Kari? I drove you there, if you can even remember. I didn't push you then, but I think I damn well deserve an answer. Saved your dumbass from punching through the bag and now this….what happened?"

Ivar flinched but knew the father of his heart was correct. Especially with it just being the two of them, he knew he could speak freely. He opened his mouth to reply, but the words stuck there. What agony he had tried to temporarily escape flooded him. Wave after wave slammed into his chest, especially with the reminder that even drunk and high, he still craved her. Waking up to find someone not her beside him. The pounding in his head was subsiding but now his heart took the brunt of the pain.

Ripping his gaze away from Floki's, he stared down at the empty cup in his hand. His thoughts and memories swirled and clashed, like an intricate swordplay. But those edges were live and sharp, cutting and slashing at him with every pass. Her face, tears trickling down her cheeks. The fear and pain in her eyes. The mark he left on her. The self-loathing that threatened to shatter his control. The desperate need to forget and escape. Pain and blood. Gods, he has fucked up.

Why did he always fuck everything up?

"She said she needed time." He whispered. "She said….fuck– I can't remember everything, but she didn't want to see me. She said….she knows I'm sorry but she still needed time." His eyes blurred, tears welling in them, as he finally looked back up at his companion. Thick emotion choked his throat, making it hard to speak. "What if she…Floki, I can't lose her. I can't–"

Floki gathered Ivar into his arms and just held him as he cried. The youngest Lothbrok could not remember the last time someone held him as he cried like this, his body quivering with the sobs ripped from his very soul. Most likely his mother or Floki, but that would have been years ago. For he had learned to wrap himself in his anger, allowing his fury to be the suit of armor needed to protect him from the world and all the ways it attempted to rend him apart.

But then she walked into his life, with her soft curves, kind heart and ability to see past all his barriers, to see past the thorns and thistles wrapped around his blackened heart, to hear the faint beating there, and to cherish its sound. For her to choose him, to want him for simply being Ivar.

He was undone by her. And yet, he had never felt more powerful and happy than when he was with her.

Eventually his tears subsided, draining him completely. He leaned back against the headrest of the bed as Floki went to refill his water cup. His body still ached, his stomach unsteady and his head hurt from the hangover and from the crying. It felt like someone had stuck a hose in him and sucked all the vitality out of him, leaving him a dry husk of who he should be, or rung out like a rag and tossed onto the floor to be trampled.

Floki handed over the new cup of water, settling back onto the edge of the bed. Wordlessly, Ivar drank it slowly, even as he suppressed the urge to just chug it. He was not that stupid. It would most likely come back up. And he despised the taste of vomit.

Of course, the old man delved into a new level of cruelty. Instead of sitting silently and allowing Ivar time to recover, he resumed speaking.

The asshole.

"How do you think Kari would feel if she found you like this? Hmmm?" He asked thoughtfully, as if they were speculating about the weather. "Think she'd take your ass back seeing you hungover like this? Or hearing about all the women you apparently fucked? Hmmm? Why should she want you after this?"

Shame rolled in his gut, rising with the nausea he could taste in the back of his throat. "She doesn't want me anymore."

Floki swatted his head again. "Damn foolish boy, can't see past his own nose."

"Stop fucking hitting me." Ivar growled.

"Oh, I'll hit you enough times until you start using that brain of yours." Floki leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees, a calculating look in his eyes as he observed the dark-haired Lothbrok. "You want her back?"

Ivar furrowed his brows. "What are you talking about?"

"You still want her, yes?"

"What kind of dumb, fucking question is that? She's the reason I–"

"Yes or no, Ivar."

"Yes!" Ivar threw the cup, hearing it hit the nearby wall but kept his gaze locked on Floki's, a tension swirling around them like a rising tide. "Fuck! Yes, I need her! Gods, I miss her so much it hurts!"

"Good." Floki nodded. "You want her back. Now prove it."

"But she said…"

"Yes, yes, she needs time. That doesn't give you the excuse to fuck off and be a disaster. She could still choose you…." Floki's calculating gaze intensified, immediately making Ivar uneasy, "....but not if you're like this. I'll keep her away from you myself if you keep this shit up."

"You wouldn't."

Floki giggled. "Think I won't? I might not know her well, but I do know she deserves better than this." He accused, gesturing to Ivar.

And he was right.

Fuck.

Ivar had always known Kari deserved better than someone like him. She was too pure. Too good. She was the bright, summer sunshine and he was the devastating, dark storm waiting on the horizon. And now…gods, would she even look at him if she knew the self-destruction he had spiraled into because he could not handle her loss? The potential of her rejection. Would she pity him? Would she become even more fearful of him? Would she hate him?

Would she feel betrayed if she knew he had picked someone that looked like her to blindly fuck in a drunken attempt to alleviate his misery? Shit…she would probably never speak to his sorry ass again. And why should she? He had raged at her when hearing she had gone out on a date and here he had been fucking any woman he could.

Why would she want him now? What goddamn right did he had to demand of her loyalty if he could not give his own?

And yet he still wanted her. Still needed her. Would do whatever it took to win her back. To prove how much she meant to him. Even after all the shit he had done. It was still her he thought of constantly, that he wanted by his side, that he wanted to talk to and listen to her laugh, that he wanted to kiss and hold and make love to. Even if fucking was the only thing he knew. He wanted to learn how to make love with her. Floki said to prove it. But how? And the answer to that eluded Ivar.

Slowly, Ivar shifted his gaze back to meet the piercing eyes watching him. He sighed quietly before speaking. "What do I do?"

Floki studied him for a long moment before smiling. "You're coming home with me to Norway. Helga has been asking when you're coming to stay and I want you to see my new boat."

Ivar thought about it then shrugged. "Fine." It was probably the best place for him at the moment anyway.

"Yeah, you ungrateful bastard. I'd drag your ass there anyway. My Helga always gets what she wants."

"You're whipped, Floki."

"Yeah, so are you."

Ivar groaned at the shit-eating grin on Floki's face but could not deny it. Not this time. With all his confessions and actions, it would be futile to try and deny it.

Pushing himself off the bed, Floki started to search around the hotel room. "Where's your clothes, boy?"

"Stop calling me that."

"When you stop acting like a spoiled brat, I will."

"Fuck off."

"No, we've got a plane to catch and I highly doubt you can walk a straight line."

"Fuck me." Ivar groaned, leaning his head back and closing his eyes in resignation while Floki's giggles filled the room.

It took some time for Floki to locate all of Ivar's things. Thankfully, Ivar still had his pants on. Not that it surprised him. Even drunk and high, apparently his subconscious still was overly aware of the state of his mangled legs and did not want others to see them. Amidst copious amounts of swearing, Floki plying him with an excessive amount of water, and only one trip to the bathroom to puke up half of the contents of his stomach, the two of them finally made it out of the hotel.

The morning sunlight burned Ivar's eyes as he stepped outside, refueling the hammering in his head. Squinting, he could see Hvitserk standing just off to the side of the door, smoking a cigarette. Without a word, he moved to join his brother.

"You look like shit." Hvitserk greeted him. "Smell like sex and vodka."

Ivar took the offered cigarette and inhaled deeply, feeling it curl in his lungs. "It's an improvement over what you always look like."

His brother snorted, taking the cigarette back. "Here." He handed over a pair of sunglasses.

With a nod of thanks, Ivar slipped them on gratefully.

"Don't ever pull this shit again. I was worried." Hvitserk stated as he handed the cigarette back over.

"I know. I think Floki will kill me if I do."

"Slowly and painfully!" The asshole yelled out from where he stood a few paces away on the phone.

Hvitserk chuckled while Ivar rolled his eyes.

"You good?"

Ivar thought about his answer, about all the revelation he had received up in the hotel room and what all Floki had said to him. He answered softly, "I will be."

Hvitserk hummed. "Might want to get tested soon. The number of girls who sucked your cock at the club….if I wasn't so pissed at you, I'd say you deserve an award. Then you fucked off when I walked away and I couldn't fucking find you."

Ivar smirked, as he finished off their now shared cigarette, dropping the butt to the ground and watching Hvitserk step on it.

The three of them loaded up in Hvitserk's car and headed towards the brothers' house. Head against the window, eyes closed during the drive, Ivar listened to Floki's words replay over and over in his mind. How could he 'prove it'? What did that even mean?

He decided to analyze that more later when he was not hungover and exhausted.

Once they finally made it back to the house, Ivar trudged to his room, ignoring the sounds of his family. What in the hell were they doing here in the late morning? Making a quick side trip to vomit once more then pop some strong pain pills he kept in his bathroom, he grabbed a few essentials from his room to bring with him to Floki's.

Over the years, one of the spare bedrooms in Floki's house had become Ivar's since he spent so much time with them, especially as a child. It was the only place Aslaug would allow her youngest to go without her ever-watchful eyes on him. With the frequency and duration of time spent there, it had become easier to leave a decent amount of clothing and other personal belongings to await his return.

With a backpack slung over his back, he grabbed his cane and his computer bag. That would be sufficient for now. If he needed something later, it would not be hard to have his father or brothers deliver it to him.

Voices coming from the kitchen drew his attention and he headed that way after exiting his bedroom. He could hear Ubbe arguing with someone and mild shock spilled over him to hear Gyda. What the fuck was she doing here? And who the hell pissed her off so badly? However much she tried not to associate with the Lothbrok business and keep herself clear of all that entailed, she was certainly a Lothbrok through and through. Her temper alone was evidence of that.

Stepping into the kitchen, he could see Gyda squaring off to Ubbe, hands on her hips and tension coating every inch of her body. Ubbe stood meeting her gaze head-on, arms over his chest. Hvitserk and Floki stood off to the side, seemingly watching the verbal sparring take place with no intention to intervene. Of course, Hvitserk had food in his mouth, one of his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk.

Hearing his footsteps and cane tapping as he entered the room, all eyes focused on him. Before he could question what was going on, the tall, blonde female practically flew across the room to shove him. It was only through sheer instinct and luck that he managed to only stumble backward and not lose his balance, having to drop his computer bag to reach out for a nearby wall to steady himself.

"What the fu–"

"If you lay a finger on Kari again, I swear I will castrate you…" Gyda spat through gritted teeth with a vengeful fire blazing in her eyes. "...and then I'll cut off all your fingers, one by one. I don't give a single fuck that you're family. You hurt her again, I WILL come for you. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Ivar slowly enunciated, fury boiling in his chest at her threats. But for once, he kept his anger in check.

"Good." She took a step back, hands returning to her hips. It was now she eyed him critically, as if seeing him for the first time. "Holy hell, you do look like shit. I'm still pissed enough I'll beat your sorry ass with your own cane though."

"Gyda, leave him alone, alright?" Ubbe said, coming around the large kitchen island. "You delivered your message, that's enough now."

Any other time, Ivar might have sneered at Ubbe attempting to be the peacemaker in the family, like always. But right now, he was too exhausted, too heartsore, too grateful for his older brother stepping in to say anything. It was taking all the miniscule strength he barely possessed to not lash out at Gyda, even if a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him that Gyda was only standing up for her friend. He met Ubbe's eyes for a moment, hoping he could see the thanks in them before dropping his eyes to his cane in hand.

Floki came over to his side, picking up the dropped computer bag. "Ready?"

He just silently nodded. The frustration and anger coiled and burned in his chest but he bit his tongue for once. Gyda had every right to be pissed at him. Part of him wondered who told her about what happened between him and Kari.

Without a word, Ivar started towards the front door, Floki by his side. The two of them were almost to the door when Hvitserk called out his name, drawing closer.

"Don't stab me, but I'm going to hug you." Hvitserk quickly informed him before doing exactly that. And to both of their astonishment, Ivar readily reciprocated the hug. Neither of them acknowledged the tight grip Ivar had on Hvitserk's shirt, as if in that moment, his brother's touch was the only thing keeping him from crumbling.

"I'll keep an eye on her. I promise." Hvitserk whispered, pulling back enough to press his forehead against his youngest brother's.

"Thanks." Ivar murmured, although it came out more as a strangled croak.

Emotions rising and warring inside him, alongside the unrelenting hangover, he trudged towards the car waiting outside for them. Seeing which driver it was waiting for them, Ivar was thankful it was one that preferred silence instead of background music. Minutes later, they were on the road, heading to the airport and the private Lothbrok plane waiting for them there.

With eyes closed once again, he could not tear his thoughts away from Kari. Not after Hvitserk's comment.

He wondered what she was doing. Was she working today? Had her cramps gotten better? What was she thinking about? Did she miss him yet? It was now he realized how much he looked forward to their conversations, even if it was just over texting. She always made him smile somehow. His own personal sunshine amidst the dark clouds and storm that was his life. His kitten. Did he brighten her day as much as she did his?

An idea popped into his mind and without overthinking it for once, he acted on it.

Less than five minutes later, a bouquet of tulips was on its way to her with his message.

He turned the screen off his phone and tucked it back into his pocket. Gods, he prayed she liked the flowers. She had said they were her favorite. She would be less likely to toss them in the garbage then, right? Fuck. He hoped she liked the gesture, that it brightened her day.

Floki's advice still swirled in his mind, like a maelstrom. Kari had told him to stay away, that she needed time. He could– no, he would honor that. She needed space from him. And she deserved it. But that did not mean he was going to let her go. Fuck that shit. He needed her. He silently swore to himself to do everything possible to show her how sorry he was for his actions and how much he missed her.

To prove how much she meant to him.

*****

Ivar stared out at the gorgeous scenery spread out before him like a painting masterpiece. The steep walls of the Norwegian fjord rose above the glittering blue river. The trees appeared ablaze with what was left of autumn's colors, transforming summer's green to something warmer. A deception to the present chill in the air, a taste of the coming winter. He could practically feel the impending cold in his bones.

His thoughts though were miles away from the picturesque scenery before him. He tapped his phone absent-mindedly against his leg with his left hand, since his right was still in its cast. Which was thankfully back to its original black and without random phone numbers in it. It had only taken a call to the local hospital to have them willing to redo his cast without any questions. One of the many times Ivar appreciated how easily he could use his name to bypass regulations and rules.

"Did you decide yet?"

"Yeah." A small smile turned up the corners of his lips. "I ordered the Armani sweater and Dior jacket."

Helga settled onto the wooden Adirondack chair next to Ivar's, her blonde hair catching in the faint breeze. "I bet she'll love them."

"Hopefully."

"Of course she will." She leaned over, whispering conspiracingly. "Think Floki will buy those for me?"

He chuckled. "If he doesn't, I will."

Laughing, she reached over and squeezed his hand. "I've missed having you here. Even if most of the time, you've been holed up in your room on your laptop."

He rolled his eyes at her pointed look. "I've been working."

"I know. Floki told me. I worry about you. You haven't been sleeping."

His brows pinched together as he tried to figure out how she knew that. Helga typically turned in early and rose with the dawn, quite opposite of Ivar who was a night owl. Aware of that, he made sure to be as quiet as possible when moving around the house, not wishing to disturb her or Floki when he finally retired for the night. At that point, he usually returned to his room but would remain awake for hours more, face illuminated by his computer or phone as he worked feverishly. If he let his mind wander freely too much, it would descend into solemn depths, he would rather avoid.

"Floki told me. He hears you moving around–"

"That asshole never sleeps either." Ivar muttered.

"--and those bags under your eyes are looking like you got into Floki's 'war paint'."

He smirked as the memory came to the forefront of his mind. "If I hide it again, what do you think he'll do?"

"Knowing what happened last time you stole it and drew penises all over the side of his shed….gods, what were you? Fifteen?" She shook her head, unable to fully restrain the amused, fond smile on her face, highlighting the laugh lines around her eyes and mouth.

He grinned mischievously. "I was thirteen, but it was all Hvitserk's idea though."

"Uh huh. I highly doubt that."

The door opening had both of them turning their heads to see Floki stepping out onto the back deck. He stepped out in his usual brown pants and dark, long-sleeve shirt, the tattoos on the sides of his head clearly visible. He must have finished shaving his head before coming out. Ivar silently wondered if Floki and Helga even noticed anymore that their attire always seemed to match in some way. Today, Floki's shirt was a dark, forest green, the color matching Helga's dress, even as it was covered in a floral design. Maybe they were so in tune with one another by this point in their decades long marriage, it was instinctual or unconscious.

A stray thought drifted through Ivar's mind, questioning if Kari and himself would ever be like that….he quickly brushed it away.

"He lives!' Floki gestured towards Ivar as he came closer. "I thought you'd finally died from glaring at your laptop. Save us all from your complaining and moaning. I was preparing to drag your crippled, scrawny ass down and throw you in a funeral boat."

"Like an old, fat fucker like you could carry me."

"Ivar, language!" Helga chastised.

"You see the abuse I have to deal with, min skatt?" Floki plopped on the arm of Helga's chair, wrapping his arm around her and faux pouting. "And I even shared my Brennivín with him."

She poked his side, making him giggle. "You just wanted an excuse to open the new bottle."

He hummed, noncommittally, before leaning over and placing a gentle kiss to his wife's lips.

Ivar dropped his gaze to his lap. Not because he was uncomfortable with their displays of affection, but because it made his heart ache. He had that and he fucked it up. He had someone to hold and kiss and tease, but he allowed himself to become blinded by perceived betrayal instead of trusting her. Someone who had only ever been genuine and selfless with him.

It was almost a week and a half since he destroyed whatever it was that was blooming between them, something he had never experienced before but craved now with every cell in his deformed body. Six days had passed since he arrived in Norway with Floki.

He had not heard from his kitten since she had texted him in thanks about the food he ordered when he found her on the couch. He could not think about it too much or he knew he would drive himself mad again. The gaping hole in his chest still bled her name, weeped with missing her touch.

He appreciated Floki returning home with him. There was a peace here, tucked away in the woods outside Kattegat, that he had never found anywhere else. Not even in his childhood house in the city. Maybe it was the location? Maybe it was the two people who filled it with pieces of themselves and transformed it from a house to a home? Whatever it was, Ivar was grateful to be here.

The only problem was the silence at night that pursued him. His demons of regret, self-loathing and insecurity stalked him in the darkness, wrapping their claws around his throat to strangle whatever buds of hope tried to blossom in his cheat.

So he threw himself into his work. Ignoring his body screaming for sleep until he passed out from exhaustion or drinking with Floki. He continued to monitor the traitorous fucker, further tightening the strings of his web until soon it would bind the turncoat and keep him immobile.

Then Ivar had lethal plans.

Until then, he kept an eye on other endeavors for Ragnar. Both for the company and off the books, anything to keep his mind busy. More often than not, he would work through the night, not even aware of the sun's arrival until he checked the time. Yet she still invaded his mind with frequency. It certainly did not help that third day, he had drunkenly proclaimed to Floki and Helga, he would send flowers to Kari every day until she took him back.

Floki had laughed.

Helga had sighed then leaned forward and told him to stop sending flowers and send something meaningful.

So far, he had no intentions of ceasing his array of offerings. But he had hoped….wished that by now, she would have texted him. At least thanked him for some of the presents. All he had gotten was radio silence. It burned like ice held against his skin for too long. A permanent chill took up residence in his chest, tightening its grasp on him with each passing day.

He knew she had received the packages. He was notified every time something was delivered but he also had a contact keeping an eye on her for him. Would she never speak to him again if she learned that she was being watched and followed? Most likely. But she already was giving him the silent treatment and he could not with good conscience allow her to be unprotected. He might not be around anymore but that did nothing to lessen his compelling need to keep her safe.

Hvitserk text him frequently, sometimes making a passing comment about how Kari was doing since he checked in with her often. Hearing the snippets of their conversations was both a knife to the chest, twisting and further ripping at his heart but also a cooling balm. To hear she was doing alright and she did not hate his family nor him. That she really did just need time to think.

But how much time? How much longer could he keep waiting? Why would she not just fucking talk to him? Yell at him. Scream until his ears bled. Break one of his bones to help her feel better. Gods, he would let her do anything if it would create a bridge over the void between them.

He just wanted to know if she thought of him as often as his thoughts turned towards her.

Sighing, he glanced down at his phone in his hand, bombarded with alerts and notifications but not from the one person he wanted.

Should he text her? Was it up to him to open that door of communication? But she said she needed time….why was all of this so damn confusing? Why did he have to fuck everything up in the first place?

"I'll go start on dinner." Helga announced, standing up. "Ivar, you should order those books for her next. That was a good idea."

He nodded silently, sending her a small, grateful smile.

After Helga left, the two men sat in the quietness of nature, gazing out over the water and fjord of Norway. A comfortable silence hovered over them.

Suddenly, Ivar's phone started ringing, startling him. With a raised brow, he unlocked the screen and brought the phone to his ear.

"What?"

"How's that vacation of yours?"

"Fuck off."

His father chuckled darkly before clearing his throat and turning serious. "Think you're sober enough to deal with our traitor?"

Ivar tensed, even as his stomach flipped and his fingers twitched in anticipation. "When?"

"Two days."

"Where?"

"Istanbul."

"Good."

Ragnar hummed thoughtly then continued. "He still has no notion we are aware of his activities, correct?"

Ivar snorted. "That goddamn fucker tried to send out information about your supplier in Libya…which does Bjorn even know about this supplier?"

"Not a fucking word, Ivar."

"Yeah, figured." Ivar scoffed, his hand tapped repetitively on his knee as his mind raced. "I'll leave tomorrow. Get everything ready there."

"Excellent. Tell Floki I need him next week."

"Sure."

The click on his phone notified Ivar that his father was no longer on the line and had not even attempted to end the call with a 'goodbye'. Like normal.

"Ragnar needs you next week." Ivar said, leaning back once again in his seat. Weeks of work, weeks of pouring through files and coded messages while digging deeper and deeper into the mire of corruption and betrayal. All of it would finally come into the light. All his hard work would showcase the snake he had caught, slithering through the henhouse. If only it had known Ivar was the bigger predator, with long-reaching claws and limitless resources.

"Hmmm….and what's got you so happy?" Floki asked, breaking Ivar from his thoughts.

He had not even realized a menacing smile covered his lips. Chuckling darkly, he could almost taste the spilled blood on his tongue. He stared straight ahead as he answered Floki, his gaze no longer seeing the fjord but a dark room where justice would be served. "My web has entangled a snake. And now it's time to rip its fangs out and watch it scream as I bleed it dry."

Tag List:

Vikings (all)

@youbloodymadgenius @pomegranates-and-blood @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @geekandbooknerd @adrille88 @quantumlocked310 @errruvande-2-0

To Call Forth Love

@heavenly1927 @zuxiezendler @punkrocknpearls @love-all-things-writing @southernbe @ecarroll1978 @breezykpop @avoidanceishowiroll @maggyme13 @that-virgo-witch @cdauni @istorkyou @smears-and-spotss @resichen2406 @jessi-lynn-h @heathengurrrl71 @harleyquinn3289 @ivarlover @complicatedbutrare

Vikings-Ivar

@breezykpop @frankie-undead-dame

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arcticlegend · 2 years

Note

hi, ignore this if you want but, can i have Scenario with Vegil, Dante and V (only Vergil if you don't write for more than 1 character) and Reader who is like the gems of the anime Houseki No Kuni, Reader gender neutral, is not a organic being but a gemstone, imagine that Reader was assigned to protect them by being their personal guard or daily helpers. They discovering that Reader is a gemstone during a fight where part of reader's body are broken and boom is a diamond, ruby, emerald etc.

I've never seen this anime before, but i love the idea of it from what i've looked up! I hope that I got this right and I hope you enjoy!

Vergil

He dodged the Qlipoth roots effortlessly, teleporting away from the large, scorpion tail-like roots. They lashed out towards him, only swiping through his afterimage. You, however, couldn't move like he could, doing your best to avoid them and strike when you could.

"Keep up." he would say, the Yamato running right through two of them, ruby, red blood spraying upward, splashing over the dirt. You really tried to do as he asked, after all, you were supposed to be the one assigned to protect him. His father, Sparda himself, had given you the task of keeping his eldest safe. Who would have thought that he'd gain this much power so quickly?

"Watch your back!"

It was just a moment too late, one of the roots jabbing through your leg and batting your aside. It all happened in moments, fear surging through whatever was left. Something that Vergil didn't know was that you weren't human, demon, or even alive. You were simply created, a body made of crystal, existing only to watch over the seed of Sparda. When the root stabbed into your leg, it shattered, your skin like a shell over the glittering shards of the gems within you. A dark blue like oceanic icecicles splintered and cracked as your foot landed on the ground.

You had skidded back, the fissures in your skin webbed like spider's silk over your arms, your face. You had turned to him, saw his confusion. It was an expression unlike anything you'd ever seen. His pale skin became paler as his eyes traveled over the trail of gems that were parts of your body. This had to happen sometime and no time like the present to finally break.

He destroyed the rest of them, manifesting swords of neon blue to strike them down before making the killing blow, Yamato slicing through them so fast, your eyes couldn't even see it happen. They fell in slices, like disks of pepperoni hitting the ground with thick slaps.

"What... is this?"

He knelt over you, unsure if he should touch you or not. He hid it well, but you could see the panic in his eyes at the sight of his friend in such a state, dark blue glimmering through the various cracks, like a geode almost, but the crystal wasn't nearly as small or hollow.

"Sapphires. I'm glad. Breaking isn't so bad when the color reminds me of you."

Vergil brushed a hand over your arm, his fingers tickling you as it trailed over the small cracks. His overcast eyes locked onto yours with frustrated concern as if to silently tell you to stop being so nonchalant. "Honestly, i'm not sure how I broke so easily."

"You've been like this the whole time... Can you be repaired?"

A surge of emotion welled within you, thinking about how most of the time he was never so caring. It made you desperate to know what had happened to him to change him so drastically.

"Yeah. I can pull myself together, though i might need some help with the pieces... You dont think this is strange?"

He huffed in amusement before making his way over to retrieve your broken foot

"I'm a son of Sparda. You couldn't be stranger than I."

Dante

The demon king, Urizen struck, the slimy tentacles wrapping around Dante, only to be subsequently sliced off. He fought desperately hard, trying to see the resemblence of his brother in this massive thing, already having most of the proof he needed by Urizen's reaction of the "Jackpot." This thing was Vergil, but how? After all ths time thinking his brother was dead by his own hand, twice, was hard enough. Now he's back and looks like the love child of an octopus and a tree. To think they were twins...

"Hey, brat, better watch your step. This bastard's a real doozy."

You already had your sword drawn, unsure of whether or not to attack. Your orders were to protect Sparda's children. Though you had a natural preference for Dante, your orders technically applied to both brothers. Should you fight him? Was it even Vergil? Even worse, you worried about breaking. All of this fighting had pushed you to the limit as fractures had already began to form on your abdomen, luckily hidden by the thick leather of your coat.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I've got your back."

He gave you his trademark smirk, the corner of his mouth tugged upward lovingly, his brows tightened with that fire burning deep in his eyes. A burst of fire raged from his sword as he charged inward, you following not too far behind. Dante attempted to get a few hits in, but the crystal, that was presumably Yamato, had protected the already powerful and intimidating beast.

Not long after his attack had ended, Urizen moved in, striking Dante to the ground without a trace of effort. You knew he would get up, knew he would be fine, but when he lifted his tentacle-like appendages to strike once more, you had to step into action. Vergil or not, you couldn't let him hurt Dante, even at the cost of your own life.

So, you jumped in the way, the flesh hardening and slamming into you with enough speed to shatter both of your arms just under the shoulder. All that was left of your arms was just below the elbow to your hands, both hitting the ground, surrounded by glimmering red shards. They glistened in the little available light like crystalized blood.

"DANTE! Get up!!!"

You screeched as Urizen grabbed you, the thin root-like arms snaking around you, squeezing until your body begun to crack.

You couldn't see him, but he was there, gazing up at you, watching the red gem shards rain from the sky out of your body, seeing your dismembered arms lying lifelessly on the ground below. He couldn't feel anything, shock setting in as he watched his childhood friend and guardian angel be shattered like glass before him.

"Brat... What in... the hell?"

He pulled himelf to his feet, using his sword to steady his aching body.

"So, Ruby? You forgot to tell me something pretty important."

Your vision faded in and out, but it didnt stop you from hearing his stupid mouth.

"I'm Garnet... not so different from you... Dante."

Just before Urizen had enough of your chatter and tried to tighten his hold on you, Dante had cut you down, catching whatever was left of you, some of your "skin" crumbling in his hands.

"Explains why you're so heavy."

You scoffed, looking away.

"I just lost some weight, what are you talking about?"

He laughed, a deep chuckle that came from his belly, hands shaking as he held you tight.

"Hehe... Brat... When this is over, we're gonna have a little chat about this."

Resting your head against the red leather jacket, you smiled up at him, "I have a feeling we will doing much more than just talking.

"Maybe, though you better put your arms back on. you're gonna need them if that's where this is going."

"Hurry up and win this thing, Dante."

He set you down by the sidelines and grabbed his sword.

"I plan to."

"V! V, They're back!"

Griffon swooped down, wings beating hard as he made his way to his host. V looked up at his familiar, expression tired as he mentally prepared himself for another fight. He could feel himself wearing down, his tatooed skin feeling unnaturally dry with every move he made.

"Then I suppose we should get ready for their assault... Come along, dearest. I'm affraid we may need your help."

You followed close behind the raven haired man, the one you fell deeply for in such a short amount of time. Something about him reminded you of someone you had previously loved and lost, yet this man was more vulnerable, more open. it made you rage with emotion, missing the man you loved terribly, all while feeling a new love for the man before you. Guilt plagued you, feeling as though you failed your creator, Sparda, and the people you were supposed to protect.

"Those dumb fucks are going to be back any minute! Any minute now, V! What's the plan!?"

In usual fasion, he didn't look the least bit concerned, only annoyed that some pesky demons would inconvenience him further. He summoned Shadow, the big cat rising from the ground, a growl churring in its throat, its purple eyes bright through the Qlipoth's shade. She was beautiful and reminded you much of yourself.

"Simple. We destroy them. The plan never changed."

You summoned your sword, letting it rest over your shoulder as you waited, hearing the rustling and scratching of claws gnawing into the dirt. Not a moment later, one jumped down, trying to pounce on V, but was struck by Shadow's spikes, jabbing it into the ground, its head presented to V like a cat leaving a mouse on his doorstep. Like clockwork, V rammed the cane's end into the ugly beast's skull.

"Watch out, V! Behind you!"

Griffon, blasted another one that followed suit, slamming it into a nearby root. Seizing the opportunity, you jumped onto its stomach and rammed your sword through its neck. More of them. They just kept coming. You weren't all that worried, you'd had to do this before, V having done it for three days straight on his own. That would change quickly when you saw V flinch and fall to his knees, coughing.

He really was getting weaker and that terrified you.

A few more tried to take advantage, pouncing down on him. He would't be able to stop it in time as Griffon and Shadow were both held up and by the looks of it, he was in no condition to summon Nightmare. It scared you how clear everything suddenly became, feeling the overwhelming desire to follow orders, to protect the seed of Sparda.

You sprinted towards them, sword poised to strike and, thankfully, you made it just in time. Having struck them with your blade, two beasts went down, but one managed to slam you into the wall, making your body begin to crack only slightly.

"Shit! Get off!"

You tried to push it aside, but felt the cracks crawl up your back, under your arms. It made your throat tight, believing you might break and V would have to see it. You tried to push it off, but its jaws snapped, biting your arm clean off at the cost of some of its teeth. It recoiled, rubbing its face into the dirt after half of its razor-like teeth had been destroyed by your crystalline arms.

Violet shards decorated the ground at your feet, sharp gemstones like blades sticking out from the stump of your elbow. Your face twisted in disgust at the pathetic demon daring to bite off your arm.

"Go back to hell!" With a shout, you jammed the sharp stump of your elbow into the bests skull, killing it instantly, though it was followed by an immediate bite from another demon, this time taking your leg. More purple gems splintered from the wound and without hesitating, you retaliated, punching the demon in the head, knocking it to the ground.

"How long have you been like this...?"

V's velveteen voice broke through your haze as he rammed his cane through its head, the usual routine. He was tired, the skin of his face beginning to break like parched earth.

"I could ask the same of you... We aren't so different by the looks of it."

He looked scared, bending down to look you over, see if there was something he could do.

"Did father do this to you?"

Father?

"I was created to protect someone. I failed to do so. Did your father do this to you?"

Sadness overtook his features, a look mixed with horror as he appeared to be remembering something dreadful.

"No. It was me. I did this to myself."

He picked up a piece of you, holding the purple shard between his fingers, turning it, watching it glisten.

"Amethyst... Its truly beautiful. Even like this you are a marvel to lay eyes upon."

You cackled at the cheesy line he dropped on you as his familiars continued to hold off the pack of angry demons.

"Alright, alright, Shakespear, enough with the flattery. Are you alright?"

His eyes closed a moment, head down as if he wanted to tell you the truth, but instead, he stood up.

"Before you do anything reckless, can you grab my leg. I'll pull myself together and try to help as best I can."

Those full lips curled into a knowing grin as he did what you asked. You could feel it too after all. He knew something about you and you did about him as well. Though he doesn't look the part, he was definitely a son of Sparda. The literature, the sarcasm, the stubborn pride that screamed with every move he made, were traits of the man you had lost. V was him.

Though you were in pieces, you could only feel relief, that you hadn't failed. He was back with you even if it was just half.

#this was so much fun #vergil #devil may cry #writing #dmc #dmc vergil #dante #dmc5 v #v #houseki no kuni

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some-messed-up-writing-for-you · 2 years

Text

Short Prompt #160

Warning: kidnapping, mentions of past abuse & threats & wounds.

Part 2

The kidnapee groaned, slowly coming to their senses as their unfamiliar surroundings came into view as they awoke. They struggled to remember how they had gotten there, but the position in which they were did nothing to calm them.

They were bound to a chair, unable to move any limb or even their head. They were forced to stare forward as a pair of hands landed on their shoulders, startling them.

"Good to see you're finally awake~."

They gulped as their captor came into view, making their panic increase.

"V-Villain?"

"Correct!" - the villain exclaimed, dramatically gesturing with their arms before their stare and demeanor drastically changed cold and deadly. "And who might you be?"

"H-Healer."

Villain hummed, starting to circle them slowly. "And I'm guessing you're the newest nuisance that has been helping Hero thwart me?"

Sweat dripped down the captive's forehead. They felt like a cornered dog. "I- I uh-"

The criminal suddenly leaned toward their ear, making the healer shiver as they spoke directly into it. "What are your powers?"

"H-Healing and r-regeneration." - Healer stammered out, fearing what the other might do if they didn't tell them.

"Ah, so that's why that bastard returned to the field so quickly after our last fight." - the villain grumbled, clearly not pleased with their kidnapee.

"...Didn't want to..." - the healer mumbled before they could stop themself.

Their captor was in their face instantly. "What was that?"

The captive cringed, pushing themself back against the chair, which did absolutely nothing. "I- I didn't want t-to heal them..."

Villain paused, moving back a bit. "...What do you mean?"

"...I'm n-not a trained medic, I- I'm just a c-civilian." - Healer started, scared tears brimming in their eyes. "I've k-known Hero for a f-few years now b-but-"

"Did they always know about your powers?" - the villain cut in, interrupting them and leaning forward again.

The healer whimpered. "N-No, they only f-found out recently. T-They-"

This time a sob cut them off as their eyes snapped closed in fear.

"They what?" - Villain pressed for an answer.

"T-They got r-really mad, a-and-" - Healer stuttered, shaking at the memories. Their voice turned into a whisper. "...T-They b-broke my a-arm..., s-said they'd d-do worse i-if- if I d-didn't-"

"Hey, breathe. You're okay, Healer."

The captive reopened their eyes, having not expected the surprisingly worried tone. The concerned look on the villain's face also caught them off guard. "W-Wha...?"

"Relax, okay? You're saying that... Hero threatened you, yes?"

The healer wasn't sure where this was going anymore. "Uhm... Y-Yes..."

Villain stood straight and sighed. "Alright, look. I'm not going to hurt you."

Healer's eyes widened in hope.

"But I also can't let you go."

Aaaand the hope's gone.

Their brows furrowed pleadingly. "W-Why not?"

The villain looked at them with pity and more worry. "Because once Hero finds out that you got kidnapped by me... they're not gonna be happy."

The captive tensed up at the mere thought, but an idea struck them. "I... I could help...?"

"Hm?" - the criminal inquired, tilting their head as their expression turned into confusion.

"I- I could h-help you take Hero down..." - Healer offered, a bit unsure if this was a good idea but also wanting to see the cruel hero pay for what they did.

"So... you want to join me?"

A nervous lump formed in their throat, but they forced it down. "Y-Yes."

Villain grinned. "Well, in that case, welcome to the team!"

The healer also managed a small smile. "T-Thanks?"

"Of course, I have to double-check if what you're saying is true, but once I confirm you're not lying, you'll be officially employed!"

"C-Cool." - Healer croaked out tiredly as henchmen entered the room. The healer was let out of the chair and cuffed for safety measures. Then, the henchmen dragged them to a temporary holding cell, where they waited for the villain to return.

#villain x civilian #civilian x villain #writing #writeblr #hero #villain #civilian #prompt #short prompt #writing prompt #heroes and villains #hero x villain community #writing community #wound tw #injury tw #kidnapping tw #threats tw

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vendettaparker · 3 years

Text

Peanut Butter and Extra Jelly [T.H]

Summary: Tom’s long time crush on you becomes painful when you and Harrison are cast as love interests in a movie.

Paring: Tom Holland x Actress!Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warning: Suggestive themes, fake smut (very light), jealousy, probably some typos, swearing

a/n: i have no idea how filming a movie, or auditioning for one actually goes so don’t crucify me for this. i’m pretty happy with how this turned out, especially considering that this is the most i’ve ever written for a fic. also, Burt Kreisher is one of my fav comedians in real life, he has 3 shows on neflix and a mini series.

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Tom was not a jealous person. At least, that's what he always told himself. He prided himself in thinking he was a very level headed individual who didn’t let his emotions get the best of him. That worked best for his job anyways; always being able to control his emotions and not get in his own head. That simple, pacifistic mindset seemed to change when it came to you.

You were one of the many actors Tom got the pleasure to help hone their technique and work closely with. You were new to the lifestyle of Hollywood and the only roles you had before were in small indie films that never garnered too much attention. The first major role that you landed, which also happened to help kickstart your career, was in the MCU. You played the secondary villain in the third Spider-man movie.

Meeting the cast was a dream come true; they were all extremely helpful and they provided tons of tips and tricks in navigating the hectic schedule required for such a huge production. By the time filming wrapped up, you were considered part of their little Spider-man family.

Tom was easily the most helpful. Whenever he saw you struggling with anything, he offered to help. You two spent hours upon hours together in his trailer, ordering take out and practicing lines. Some nights you two planned to work through your script, but inevitably ended up falling asleep binge watching The Office, and laughing about crazy shit that happened on set that day.

When the movie wrapped up and you went home for a month before the press tour, you were completely unsure and nervous about what direction your career was going in. You auditioned for a few new movies, but had yet to hear from any of the directors about casting decisions. You kept in touch Tom during the month you were apart and expressed your concerns.

“I don’t know, Tom. I’m just so sick of waiting around and hoping that some director out there throws me a bone, ya know’?” You said on facetime, while making cookies.

“Yeah, I totally understand that, (Y/N/N). I had that issue a couple years ago before the Marvel movies. Trust me, you did outstanding in that role and once it gets noticed I’m positive you’ll have directors calling you, begging for you to audition.” Tom smiled warmly into the camera as he walked around his apartment in London.

“Yeah, easy for you to say, movie-star.” You giggled, turning your face away from the camera in hopes that Tom wouldn’t notice the blush his compliments painted onto your cheeks

“I’m serious! You were outstanding! Like in that one scene where you—”

“Tom! Tessa chewed a hole in my trousers again!” A voice came from outside of the frame, “Mate, you gotta get her to stop doing that somehow.”

Tom sighed, and waved his hand dismissively at the figure, “Okay, sure. I’m busy right now.” Tom looked back to the camera, “anyways, as I was saying, don’t stress about not having a new project yet, (Y/N)—”

“(Y/N)?” The other voice whisper-yelled. “Let me say hi!”, suddenly the phone was yanked out of Tom's hands and the video shook around a bit as Tom wrestled to get it back. Finally, the camera stilled and Harrison was on the other end smiling. “Hi, (Y/N)!”

“Oh, hi Harrison!” You smiled back, laughing. You'd met Harrison a few times when he visited Tom on set. “How are you?”

The camera started moving around more as the background behind Harrsion whizzed past. You assumed Tom must’ve been chasing him to get the phone back.

“I’m good! I just auditioned for a new movie. You should audition too! The main female lead’s description looks just like you.” He exclaimed, running past the kitchen to his room.

“Oi! Give me my phone back you div!” You heard Tom yelling in the background, no doubt in hot pursuit of Harrison.

“I don’t know, I'm not sure I’m prepared for a lead role.” You sighed, “What’s the movie called? I’ll look into it.”

“It’s called ‘Collateral Damage’, it’s a spy movie.” Harrison said, shutting the door to his room, while Tom pounded on it from the other side. “Yeah, it’d be really fun working with you. Tom constantly talks about how much fun you are on set.” Harrison wheezed out, trying to catch his breath.

“Aw, that’s sweet of him.” You laughed. “Well I’ve got to go. Just tell Tom he can call me tomorrow or something.” You waved at the camera. “Bye!”

“Yup, bye.” Harrison said right before the video cut out.

Harrison finally opened the door to a seething Tom. Tom grabbed the phone back from Harrison and noticed that the call had ended.

“Dude! Why would you do that?” Tom whined.

Harrison just patted Tom’s back, “Sorry, mate. She said she had to go, though. I was about to give the phone back.”

Tom huffed and sulked for a moment. “Whatever, I’ll just call her later, I guess.”

Harrison nodded and smirked at how whipped Tom was. “You should just ask her out if you’re so desperate for her attention.” Harrison teased.

“Shut up. I’m not desperate for her attention, I just like her voice and her personality, and the way she talks, and her funny sayings, and how her hair looks when she just woke up.”

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It was only a few days later when you received an email from the director of the movie Harrison told you about, asking for you to audition. You were ecstatic, Harrison must’ve already sent in some things about you since the director seemed adamant that you were of high interest for the role.

You called Tom immediately to share the good news.

He picked up after the third ring, “Hello, darling! How are you?” he beamed when he answered your call. He usually was the one to call you so he felt a sense of pride knowing that you were calling him for once.

“Tom! The director of the movie Harrison auditioned for just emailed me asking for me to audition!” You squealed excitedly.

“Really? That’s wonderful, love! Harrison just got the part of the lead too, so you’d be filming with him if you got it.”

“That’s so exciting, I’m flying to London for the audition in two days. Are you still there?” You pulled the phone away from your ear and switched it to speaker. “I’m booking the flight right now.”

“Yeah, I’ll be in London for another week and a half. Then we have the press tour starting in Japan.” Tom said, also switching to speaker phone to look at his calendar. “You can stay with Harrison and I while you’re here. Since we have to go to Japan together anyways.” Tom offered nervously. He really wanted you to stay in his flat with him. It’d be all cute and domestic, and maybe, just maybe, he’d spend enough time with you to not feel nervous about asking you on a date. If he was lucky, that is, but awaiting your reply he was a jittery ball of nerves.

“Yeah, that sounds wonderful. I won't be intruding though, right?” You said, smiling from ear to ear. Thank god you weren’t on facetime and Tom couldn’t see the stupid smile adoring your features.

“No, of course not. Harry will be so excited to see you. And Tessa too, she really misses you.” Tom shuffled around with his phone, shooting a quick text to Harrison letting him know you were coming to stay for a week.

“Ok, thanks so much, this is really thoughtful of you. I absolutely can’t wait to see you!” You gushed, finalizing your purchase of a one-way ticket to London. “K, the flight is at 2:30 pm here, it’s about 9 and a half hours, but you’re also ahead of me, so I’ll be in around..5?”

“Yeah, that sounds right to me,” Tom chuckled, “I’ll come pick you up. I’ll wear my incognito disguise.”

“If you mean that stupid t-shirt you got that says ‘I’M NOT A CELEBRITY’, then maybe I’ll ask Harrison to come pick me up…”

“That’s cold (Y/L/N).”

You giggled softly, “I’m sorry, Tommy. If it makes you feel better, that shirt isn’t as bad as that stupid blue beanie that you never wear correctly.”

“How the fuck would that make me feel better? You’re killing me, (Y/N/N).”

You laughed at his over dramatic reaction, “Sorry that you’re a sensitive babe. I gotta go now, see you soon!” You hung up before Tom could respond with a sassy quip. Then immediately after you received a text:

Tommy: The second you get here I’m bout to 👊

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Tom called Harrison up after you got off the phone, he needed to make sure his best friend wouldn’t say or do anything to embarrass him in front of you.

“Tom, don’t you think this is a bit obsessive? I mean, she’s only staying with us for a week and you already know her so well from spending all that time filming with her.” Harrison sighed, sick of listening to Tom ramble about every possible embarrassing situation he could be put in, in the coming week.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. It's no big deal. But don’t mention that time I accidentally shit my pants at the club, or that time I got hit in the head with a golf ball ‘cus I got distracted by a flock of geese, or that time a got chased by a flock of geese, or—”

“Geez, mate. At this point we might as well not even talk to her.” Harrison chuckled, thinking of all the stories he could bring up about Tom around the dinner table with you. Tom really was just a walking ball of embarrassing moments.

“Stoppp ittt,” Tom whined, “when we were on set it was usually just the cast and Harry around, but you? You could do some real fucking damage to my love life, Haz.”

“What love life?” Harrison barked out, laughing.

Tom then hung up and began praying to whatever god was out there that this week could go by without a hitch, and then you and him would be on your way, together, to Japan.

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The whole week spent in London actually went really well, especially the audition. Tom and Harrison both accompanied you for moral support, well Harrison actually had to be there to be your scene partner, but it was still nice knowing he supported you.

The director shook your hand and you went through the normal formalities before beginning your scene with Harrison. It was a quick scene with a monologue in it. The main premise of the movie was all about choosing love over work, especially in dangerous, life-threatening scenarios. The scene you used to audition with Harrison was the scene where the main character, Lincoln, and his lover interest, Mallory, were arguing, trying to push each other away to keep each other safe. The scene had a lot of raw emotion that you were able to tap into, and the directors gave your performance a standing ovation once the scene concluded.

They said that they’d get back to you within the next few days, but they also mentioned how the chemistry between you and Harrison was off the charts, leaving you hopeful. Tom and Harrison both gave you hugs and pats on the back. Tom had watched the whole scene unfold and he was in complete and utter awe of your talent. Part of him was annoyed that he didn’t audition for the movie and a chance as your love interest. But Harrison deserved this big break and so did you, so he was hopeful of the outcome being something that benefitted both of his best friends.

After the audition the rest of the week went by nearly perfectly. The real kicker was when Tom’s family invited you and Harrison to join them for dinner. Tom had not anticipated his mom asking you to come to family dinner, so he wasn’t able to stop the embarrassing anecdotes his mom told on his behalf.

“Tom had the cutest little tush,” Nikki exclaimed, placing the old homemade scrapbook in your lap and flipping through a couple of pages. “See look,” she happily pointed to a picture of Tom as a toddler in a bath, surrounded by bubbles, his little bum poking through them.

Tom sat uncomfortably on the sofa next to you, cringing at the now 21 year old photo of him. He expected you to also cringe along, or worse case scenario, get up and make a flimsy excuse to leave his crazy family, but you just chuckled along with Nikki and continued making your way through the scrapbook, making little comments here and there.

“Oh, and this one,” Nikki said, pointing to a photo of Tom crying and Sam holding up a superhero action figure triumphantly, “that was Tom’s favorite toy, but when Sam saw how much Tom liked it, he made an effort to always be playing with it when Tom came into the room and he wouldn’t share.”

You giggled at the little whiny face Tom made in the picture, and turned to him, replicating it on your face, making fun of him. Tom laughed along and playfully shoved you. He adored how well you seemed to fit in with his family and his feelings for you only multiplied.

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The week in London was one of the best in your life. You didn’t realize how much you missed Tom until you got to the airport and he was there waiting for you, unfortunately in his stupid blue beanie, and no, it wasn’t on right, his big ears poked out of it horrendously.

The last day you had in London before you and Tom went to Japan, you finally received a call about the audition. The director called you to congratulate you on getting the part, and he sent you numerous emails about scheduling, where to be, and when. Harrison was elated to have a familiar face playing his love interest on screen, and Tom was over the moon excited for you, this on top of the Spider-man movie coming out, you were certainly becoming a force to be reckoned with.

You spent the night celebrating at a club, Harry and Sam also showed up to party with you. The night was still young and the club was already packed and in full swing. Tom ordered two shots for each of you to start off the night before he was whisked away by a few fans to sign autographs. When he didn’t return you took it upon yourself to have his shots, giving you an extra edge to help spice up your night.

Harrison found Tom in the corner of the club talking to some fans. But throughout his whole time taking pictures with them, he couldn’t help but glance at you every once and a while. You looked so carefree and beautiful, dancing around in your shiny silver top and leather leggings.

“Tom.” Harrison interrupted Tom’s gawking and directed his attention to the small group of fans Tom was with.

Tom nodded and finished up his pictures and autographs before wishing them all a good and safe night. Once he reached you, you engulfed him in a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you for such a great time in London, Tommy.” you slurred, already feeling the impact of the four shots you took. “I had the best time of my whole life.” You pecked his cheek and pulled him close to dance with you.

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The following month or so on the press tour was a once in a lifetime experience. You travelled to more cities than you even knew the name of and you had all of your friends by your side. More so, you had motivation to remain approachable and well liked by fans considering that you were moving up in the industry. Some interviews were mostly for Tom, Zendaya, and Jacob. Your role in the movie was big enough for you to be needed for some interviews, and most people were genuinely interested in getting to know you, but there were also a handful of press activities that you weren’t included in, which you didn’t mind.

When you didn’t have anything to do for an hour or so, you would text Harrison and send him funny memes. He was quickly becoming one of your closest friends; you had already created a surplus of inside jokes with him just over the phone.

Tom noticed how you were always laughing at your phone or rapid fire texting. Even when you were being interviewed, Tom could faintly hear the buzz of your text message notifications going off.

“Tom,” you snapped in front of his eyes, “did you need something?”

“Huh?” Tom blinked a few times, “Uh—no, sorry.” Tom’s cheeks flushed pink, embarrassed for having been caught staring at you. He couldn’t help it though, you were dressed so pretty that day. You had your hair done up in two bubble braids and you wore his pink sweatshirt over your yellow sundress.

“Okay then.” You smiled at him. You went back to your phone, reading what Harrison had just texted you. “What was the name of that comedian we watched the other night?”

“The one on Netflix?”

You hummed out a yes, tapping away at your phone.

“Burt Kreisher, why?” Tom asked, leaning over to your chair to try and catch a glimpse of who you were texting. When he saw the contact name “Hazzy”, he couldn't stop the little angry pit of jealousy that started in his stomach. Sure, you were here with him now, not with Harrison, but when you two were apart you also texted him nonstop, and the texts seemed to all be inside jokes, which was something you also shared with him that he held near and dear.

“I made a joke referencing him to Harrison and he didn’t get it. Fucking nerd.” You chuckled, texting Harrison a link to the skit you were referring to.

Tom chuckled along, but he couldn’t help but frown slightly at how bright your smile was when Harrison replied.

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The press tour and premiere of the movie seemed to go by lighting fast. You’d never been to a premiere for a production this big, and your nerves for the red carpet were starting to get to you.

You and Zendaya were stuffed into a hotel room with both of your respective teams, both trying to rapidly get both of you ready for the event.

“So when do you start filming for your next project?” Zendaya asked, she sat in front of a broadway-equse mirror, bright bulbs of light giving a luminescent glow to her already near flawless complexion. She hadn’t even finished her makeup yet and she was so pretty.

“In a month, I have to go back to London next week.” You said, sifting through the opinions you brought for dresses. You brought three options, just in case you changed your mind after seeing yourself in the dress. “Harrison and I are going to go over the scripts together and we were also told to go out in public a few times; for press and whatnot.”

“That’s exciting!” Zendaya mused, she glanced at the clock and gave her hairdresser some instructions about how much time she had to do hair. “It’s a good thing you guys are already friends. I remember when I filmed ‘The Greatest Showman’ I didn’t know many of the actors personally, so we had to go out together and do press all while being almost strangers. It was a bit nerve wracking.” Zendaya smiled at you fondly, she was like an older sister to you during this whole movie-making process, she constantly had your back.

“Yeah, I mean I’ll probably be in a situation like that at some point, but for my first lead role it’s nice to be working opposite a friend.” You smiled back, finally deciding on the red, sequined dress.

You both sat and worked through the makeup process in comfortable silence.

“So you and Tom…” Zendaya broke the silence and looked at you with a smirk on her face.

“What?” You looked at her with a dumbfounded look, before nervously laughing, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb, (Y/N/N).” She poked your arm and laughed, “He’s literally obsessed with you.”

You laughed at how ridiculous that sounded. A movie star, and very famous movie star at that, obsessed with you? You? Impossible.

“Yeah no, sorry but you got the wrong girl, babe.” You sighed, pulling out your phone to snap and selfie with her for your instagram story. You quickly snapped a pic of the two of you, her kissing your cheek, leaving a small, faint lipstick mark. “I mean it’d be nice,” you back tracked, “but I’m sure that’s just my wishful thinking.”

“What wishful thinking? I thought you were a pessimist?” Zendaya chuckled, taking her own photo with you to post later.

“I am, but I can’t help but indulge a bit.”

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Before you knew it, you were back in London, staying in a rented out flat for the next three to four months. Harrison was kind enough to come over to help you set up a work space, but he also offered you to spend most of your time at his place. Since Tom was in New York, doing interviews about the new Spider-man movie and having meetings with the Marvel Cinematic Universe team to try and gauge his future in the MCU, he wouldn’t be around for almost a month, so Harrison offered up Tom’s office when you needed to go over a scene by yourself and wanted a place that was already set up.

The days of filming seemed to go by in the blink of an eye. Most of your scenes were with Harrison, and he was the perfect scene partner. He rarely messed up, but if he did then he was quick to use it as an opportunity to improvise. His skills weren’t as well honed in like Tom’s, but it was obvious that their style ranged from a similar source.

The main thing about this movie that you were excited, but extremely nervous for, were the two sex scenes. The first one is at the beginning, where the two leads give in to each other for a night, then there's some implied stuff in between, and the last one is when the two leads part ways for the final time at the end of the movie. The first one had to be rough, fast, and needy, whereas the second one was direct to be more slow, thought out, and sensual.

Both were extremely stress-inducing to film. Harrison had also never done any scenes like this before, so he was on the same boat as you. Thankfully you had an amazing director and stunt coordinator to work with and with the help of other crew members, the scenes were mapped out so that it wasn’t too much improv or guessing on your part.

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The first intimate scene you shot actually happened to be the one at the end of the movie. That scene was more tame and dealt with more emotional subtexts than physical. Since you filmed that one first, you went into filming the next one with more confidence. It only took a few days to get the first scene down to perfection, so with this newfound confidence, it shouldn’t take too long to get the next one done.

On the days you shot intimate scenes, you only needed to wear the costume you wore before the scene and then you changed into a robe with nude underwear underneath. The bits with the outfit on before were already shot, so the director called a 30 minute break until you could begin shooting the actual sex part.

You were standing by the snack table, eyes scanning the table for any more muffins leftover from breakfast. The robe you wore made your skin prickle whenever a draft came onto set.

Just as you had found the muffin you were looking for, a pair of warm hands covered your eyes.

“Guess who!” An all too familiar warm, British accentuated, voice called.

You turned around in his arms, effectively nudging his hands from your face, and soon you were met with the warmest hazel eyes. Eyes that you missed so much this past month.

“Tommy!” You squealed and thrusted yourself into him in a hug. He immediately reciprocated it and wrapped your body in warmth. “What’re you doing here?” You asked once you let go of him.

“Harrison gave me the location so I could come watch you film. I just got home, like, two days ago.” Tom eyed you up and down, not realizing what little you had on. “Um—are you wearing anything under that?” He pointed up and down your figure.

“Nope, today and tomorrow we’re scheduled to film the sex scene.” You said casually, doing a silly twirl. Tom gulped.

“A s-sex scene?” He choked, “I didn’t know you guys had one.”

“Yup,” you smirked, “two actually, this is my first one ever, Haz’s too, I think. Well actually, we filmed the sex scene at the end of the movie last week.”

“Yeah… t-that’s cool.” Tom smiled weakly.

Right as you were about to continue your conversation with Tom, an arm swung over your shoulder and pulled you close. Harrison smiled at the both of you. He wore a similar robe to yours, except he left the front open. His plaid boxers on full display.

“Don’t listen to her, Tom. She’s a natural.” Harrison pinched your cheeks. Tom clenched his jaw at the comment. He knew Harrison hadn't meant to imply anything with it, but he couldn't help but hear the hidden meaning behind the otherwise innocent compliment.

You giggled and pushed his hand away, “Only ‘cus my scene partner is so darn cute.” You retaliated, poking and tickling his pecs.

This kind of goofy banter was normal between you and Harrison, but Tom hadn’t seen either of you in so long. He also had never seen you two interact so fluently with each other. He watched the interaction with a tight-lipped smile, nodding along and shrugging every once in a while to seem like he was paying attention. In reality though, he couldn’t pry his thoughts away from how close you were to Harrison.

“Ok everyone! Places! Let’s wrap this scene up and put it to rest today!” Your director called. You and Harrison smiled and waved goodbye to Tom. Harrison pointed to a chair in the room that had a nice view of the set where Tom could watch. Tom nodded and walked over to the chair, enthusiasm for watching you work completely dissipating.

The scene started off rough right off the bat. The second the director said ‘Action!’ you and Harrison were practically pouncing on each other. Harrison had you pressed up against the wall and you were both breathing heavily. He was leaving sloppy, wet kisses down your neck, then across your collar bones. Your moans, which Tom always imagined to sound like music to his ears, sounded too real for his liking. But no matter how much he tried to look away, his eyes were glued to the two bodies moving fluidly with one another.

“Cut! Cut!” The director yelled, effectively ending the scene. You and Harrison pulled apart and he gave you a peck on the cheek, as in saying ‘good job’. “That was good, but Harrison,” The blonde nodded, awaiting further instruction. “You gotta be a little rougher, hm?”

Harrison nodded along with the critique. “(Y/N)?” the director moved his attention to you, “would it be okay if Harrison marked you up? Just a few hickeys to really sell the illusion. We can do without, though, if you feel uncomfortable.”

Tom overheard the interaction and internally hoped that you were too uncomfortable for that, but deep down he knew you would do it. You were never the type to stray away from a challenge.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You nodded, chest still heaving from the scene. You looked at Harrison. “Is that okay with you?”

Harrison nodded, a shy smile tugging at his lips. Yeah, you guys have been working at this scene for days now, but he’d never been rough enough to leave marks. He’d be lying if he said the thought didn’t invigorate him.

So the scene started from the top, you pressed up against the wall, all your weight shoved between the flimsy wall of the set and Harrison’s strong arms. Harrison did exactly as the director required, leaving noticeable dark spots across the top of your chest. Unlike your previous moans, which had just been for show, this new roughness in his actions tore real moans from your lips.

Tom sat uncomfortably in his chair, wishing he picked a different day to visit you on set. He shifted around, watching twin moans pull from both you and Harrison’s throat. He watched as you nipped at Harrison's ear as he faux thrusted into you. The jealousy that had pitted itself in his stomach soon turned to self-loathing. You looked really into the scene, he couldn’t help but feel like he was intruding. He knew you were a great actress, but he couldn’t believe that this was all acting. In his eyes, he believed that some part of you must wish that this was real. And part of you did like this scenario, but you wouldn’t have picked Harrison to be opposite you in this little fantasy.

Your moans and Harrisons both grew louder, leading up to the climax as scripted. Tom, not wanting to watch anymore exited the set quickly before he could watch the scene end.

You and Harrison finished up, gaining applause and praise afterwards from the director and crew members on set.

“Where’s Tom?” You asked, scrambling back into your robe and smoothing out your now roughed up hair.

Harrison, now noticing the absence of his best friend, began to feel a bit guilty. He knew Tom had a thing for you, maybe he should’ve told Tom not to visit set today.

“Um, (Y/N)?” He mumbled, pulling you aside slightly.

“Yeah?” You still looked around for Tom a bit, heart sinking when you realized that he must've left without saying goodbye.

“I shouldn’t be the one telling you this,” Harrison began, drawing your full attention, “but Tom really likes you. He always downplayed it, so I didn’t realize how much, but I think watching this scene might’ve upset him a bit.” Harrison looked towards the exit, no doubtedly where Tom left through, out into the parking lot.

“Oh—oh!” You gasped, feeling terribly for having put Tom in such an awkward position. “I didn’t know he felt the same.” You whispered, smiling softly to yourself. Guess Z was right after all. You pulled away from Harrison, “I’ll go talk to him.”

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Tom didn’t go far. He still wanted to be there to support you; he didn’t want to come off as a jealous prick, but he couldn’t keep watching that intimacy between you and his best friend. He sat on the curb outside of the building the set was built in. A few people passed him going to their designated buildings on the lot, but he didn’t pay any mind to them, too lost in his thoughts. He needed to tell you sooner rather than later how he felt. No time to be a pussy anymore.

“Tom?” You walked up next to his sitting figure, still only in a robe, tightly wrapped around you. He looked up to acknowledge you, mumbling a soft ‘Hey.’ before looking back down, trying to collect his thoughts and courage. It’s now or never.

You sat beside him and rested your head on his shoulder. “Harrison told me something interesting in there,” You paused for a moment before continuing, “about you.”

Tom’s head shot up, and he looked at you with frantic eyes, only imagining the worse. There were too many things Harrison could’ve told you about Tom to sully your image of him.

“Whatever it was, he's a lying prick!” Tom rushed out.

You giggled, lifting your head up to look him in the eyes, his dark hazel eyes boring into yours.

“That’s a shame then,” You shrugged, “considering I like you too.”

Tom breathed out a sigh of relief, before looking back at you, doing a double take.

“Wait, what?”

“Mhm, yeah.” You said casually, standing up. “But since Harrison’s a liar then I suppose he was wrong.” You teased.

“No!” Tom grabbed your wrist and pulled you back next to him, but his aim was a bit off and you ended up in his lap. “He lies about a lot, but not about this.”

You smiled at him, “I should hope not, considering I’m crazy about you.”

Tom couldn’t help the smile that beamed across his face, but then he noticed the marks left on you by Harrison. Remembering why he was insecure in the first place, he looked away.

“What about Harrison?” He asked. You looked at him utterly confused. Tom caught on and explained further. “You looked like you were really into that scene with him.”

You giggled and pinched Tom’s cheek, turning it red. “I’m an actress, you idiot.”

Tom scoffed, “I know that. It’s just— I didn’t realize you could fake that kind of love.”

You looked at Tom’s downcast face. You leaned in and kissed his neck, just under his jaw. You nipped and sucked softly, leaving a nice, dark pink blotch that would go away in a few days under his jaw and he whimpered softly.

“I’d never fake that kind of love with you.” You grabbed his face, holding it gently in your hands. “I’d never have to.” You whispered, pulling him in for a kiss, soft and sweet.

Tom pulled you closer, resting a hand on the small of your back, kissing back fervently.

The short make-out session being cut short by the door to the set bursting opened. Harrison rushing out, now dressed in slacks and a white button up for the next scene you needed to shoot that day.

“(Y/N)! Hair and makeup need you.” You lugged yourself off of Tom’s lap, promising to talk to him after you finished for the day. You went back inside, jokingly blowing a kiss to Harrison on your way.

Harrison stayed outside and sat next to Tom.

“Did she confess first?” He asked after a moment of silence.

“Yup.” Tom smiled happily, licking his lips, tasting the strawberry chapstick he saw you put on earlier.

“You owe me 10 pounds then, you wimp.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Tom groaned, promptly pulling ten pounds out of his wallet and handing it to Haz.

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland x y/n #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fanfic #tom holland smut #harrison osterfeild fluff #harrison osterfield #platonic!harrison osterfield

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zaffrenotes · 3 years

Text

To Ruined Friendships

Fandom: Westworld Pairing: Logan Delos x Reader Rating/Warnings: PG-13; spicy language, alcohol consumption, heavy smoochin Author's Note: This entire thing was inspired by a dream I had about one black hat cowboy who cannot for the life of him consume a drink without looking like he's going to inhale it. I tried to work on my other WIPs for an entirely different fandom, but my brain refused to focus on anyone other than Logan Delos. I don't have the energy to create a sideblog for this, so any Logan fans who happen to find this from the tags, please don't judge me for the other fandom(s) I'm in. I already know, lol. Word Count/Reading Time: +/- 2600 words (10 minutes reading)

hell if I know who to tag for this...if I ever write more and you want to get an update, leave a comment, I guess?: @the-blind-assassin-12 @ao719 @the-soot-sprite possibly @ofpixelsandscribbles @burnsoslow

Another night rubbing shoulders with the elite in a penthouse, and all you want to do is retreat into one of the half dozen empty rooms to rest your feet. Beauty always has a price, and tonight your feet were being sacrificed to the stiletto gods in the name of fashion. As a waiter weaves between guests, you deftly trade the empty crystal flute in your hand for a fresh one off their tray, the slim glass chilling your fingertips.

A tiny, imperceptible sigh slips past your lips as you look out at the wall of windows, city skyline twinkling in the distance. Glancing through the crowd, you try to find a familiar face of one of your girlfriends, when you feel someone’s fingers on your back, ghosting over the ink at the base of your spine. Over your shoulder, a warm, though somewhat world-weary voice makes your body tingle. “Hey gorgeous, I was wondering if I’d see you here tonight.”

You know he’s grinning before you even turn your head; a sly smile spreads across your painted lips when you see you were right, and you lean in to press your cheek to Logan’s in greeting. His beard tickles your face, and the movement is small, but you feel him pull you closer to him, pressing his fingertips into your smooth skin. “You know me,” you reply, gently squeezing his bicep for balance, noses nearly touching as you both move to kiss the other cheek. “Any excuse to squander part of my father’s fortune on a party dress.”

His cheek twitches up as he grins wider, and once more, the grit in his voice makes you want to find a dark corner and do unspeakable things with him. “Only you could make a napkin’s worth of fabric look like couture,” he teases, stepping back to admire your outfit. “I own pocket squares larger than what you’ve got on!” His gaze lowers appreciatively, taking you in, before settling at your feet. You shift your weight from one hip to the other; tilting your head back to take a sip of champagne, you’re surprised to see his dark eyes on you as you swallow and lower the glass. There’s a hint of something there, the way the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Been here long? Why don’t we find somewhere quiet to catch up? You can let your hair down, along with… anything else, to get comfortable.” Were it not for the playful expression in his eyes, his proposition would warrant throwing the remainder of your drink directly into his exquisite face.

But you know Logan. You’ve known him too long for the invitation to be anything but amicable, much to your dismay. You’re well aware of the caliber of women he’s taken to the bedroom, and while you consider yourself attractive enough for the circles you keep, there’s no way he would ever see you as more than just a family friend. Knowing that doesn’t keep you from stroking his ego and taunting him at every opportunity, though. “My hair’s already down,” you tease, grinning as you roll your eyes at him.

“You know what I mean,” he replies, brushing your tresses over one shoulder. His thumb lingers on the strip of silk there, slipping between the material to rest on your skin, before pulling away. “We’ve known each other for years now, you’d think there would’ve been one night of indecency.” Before you’re able to respond, he glances up, noticing one of the other guests. “To be continued,” he says, raising his brows to you. He’s already begun to walk away.

“As always,” you reply, raising your glass to him.

You catch his eye more than a few times as you both make the rounds, catching up with friends and being introduced to new acquaintances vying for a way into social circles and business ventures. He winks at you before throwing back a drink, appearing as if he’d take a bite out of the glass to get every last drop of liquid from it. You nod as you pass by him while he converses with another guest, your arm linked with a friend’s as you walk off to powder your noses. You even catch him looking at you from across the room like he wants to ask you something, but the moment disappears when he pulls his phone from his pocket to take a call.

The evening goes on much longer than you anticipated. Even with windows of interesting conversation to pass the time, you begin to grow weary of the company, drowning out a discussion around you while you stake a claim on one of the pristine white couches. Your legs are crossed in front of you, one foot dangling in the air, while the one closer to the floor looks like it’s about to snap away from the rest of your leg. You’re balancing the weight on a sliver of one side of the heels, and you gaze out at the outdoor pool, wishing you could sit by the edge and dip your feet in the cool, chlorinated water.

Scanning through the guests once more, you notice Logan at the bar. He’s in the middle of a conversation with two gentlemen, but he catches your eye, glancing over long enough to notice your legs again. He flicks his eyes upwards to the rooms, tilting his head at an angle in silent question. You scoff and shake your head, blinking slowly to dismiss his invitation, and give up your position on the couch to go to look for the bathroom. He simply smiles as you cross the room, before returning to the conversation at the bar.

You’re outside on one of the balconies, forearms resting on the brushed steel railing as you lean against metal and glass, absentmindedly staring out at the city. The cool night air feels refreshing against your skin, now warm and flushed from too much champagne and not enough food; there’s never enough food at these things, and you would sell your soul for a plate of loaded nachos or even a tiny slider. Behind you, there’s a click and a hiss from the plate glass door opening. Jovial music and conversation from inside filters through the temporary break, and you sigh to yourself in preparation of putting on your party face to make idle conversation.

“That is one hell of a view.” An all too familiar voice fills the air after the door hisses shut. Logan.

You respond without turning around to acknowledge him. “Your family sure knows how to pick a party venue, I’ll give you that.”

“We do, but that’s not the view I was talking about.”

Body warming at his suggestive tone, you turn around to see Logan’s eyes fixed on your backside, unashamed of his blatant ogling. There’s a glass tumbler in his hand, with barely a sip’s worth of what looks like whiskey in it. “There you go again, getting a girl’s hopes up,” you tease, fidgeting with your hair.

“You know you’re fucking gorgeous, especially in that dress tonight.” His voice travels as he walks over to a darker part of the balcony, swirling the remnants of his drink.

Emboldened by the alcohol still coursing through your system, you play along, walking slowly towards him. “Let me guess, next you’re going to tell me it would look even better in a pile next to your bed.” You roll your eyes at him, but your heart begins to race at the idea.

He grins warmly at you, a tendril of hair knocking loose when he tilts his head and shrugs. You want to reach forward and smooth it back in place, and run your fingers against the side of his scalp. His hair’s longer than it was before; he’s been away at the park for a longer visit this time around. His unnervingly dark eyes are practically black in the shadows, eyeing you like prey. Extending a hand towards you, he reaches for the strap on your shoulder again as if to adjust it, but instead he lifts it and lets it fall off the slope of your skin, staring at the unblemished swath of flesh before him. You feel the material fall until it rests in the crook of your elbow, thankful to be holding up a glass to keep the silk from falling away any further off your body. “A dress like this? I’d have the decency to hang it up first.” He tugs at the fabric again, pulling it up over your shoulder to return your modesty.

“Keep saying shit like that, and one of these days I might believe you.”

“Should I keep talking then?” He chuckles.

You exhale, shaking your head with disbelief. He takes another step away from where you can be seen, and you follow him. “I’m not drunk enough to take you seriously,” you scoff, looking just beyond his gaze.

Logan reaches forward again, fingers landing on the base of your glass, and he pushes it up towards your mouth. “Then by all means, take another sip,” he grins.

“Bullshit,” you utter through a nervous smile, though you don’t stop yourself from tipping the edge of the flute to your lips and tilting your head up, downing half the contents in one gulp.

“Fuck it,” he whispers.

You swallow, and effervescent bubbles tickle the length of your throat so much that it takes you a second to register feeling Logan’s lips at the juncture of your jawline and earlobe. The way his beard brushes against you as you pull the glass away from your lips makes you lose your grip, and the flute falls to the ground, shattering near your feet. You gasp with surprise, unsure if it’s from the shock of dropping the glass or from the fact that Logan fucking Delos just kissed you.

In one swift movement, Logan wraps his unencumbered hand around your waist to pivot you away from the broken glass. His drink-laden hand blindly stretches out to set the glass on the thin metal railing, and he kisses you properly this time, impossibly soft lips on your open mouth and both of his hands are on your waist. He tastes sweet, smokey and woody from the whiskey, setting your lips on fire as he kisses you. Your hands fly up to his shoulders, gripping at his suit jacket as he leads you both towards an exterior wall. The shock of the cool wall against your exposed back makes you gasp again, and you push Logan away. “What’re you doing?” Your head is swimming, blood pulsing from the alcohol and the rush of emotions as you search Logan’s eyes for an answer.

“Might be ending our friendship,” he laughs wryly. His eyes land on your lips, before looking up to meet your gaze. “Want me to stop?”

The look in his eyes is intense; two black pools stare into you, daring you to continue. You tug the lapels of his jacket, pulling him close as your pelvis tilts forward to meet his. “Finish what you start,” you whisper, Cheshire-grin giving away your desire. He kisses you again, grabbing hold of the back of your thighs as he lifts you. You spread your legs, wrapping them around his waist as he presses you up against the wall, the pair of you kissing each other like it’s your last night on earth. There’s an urgency in your actions; if there’s a moment of hesitation from either of you, the spell will break, so you ignore the burning in your lungs to kiss him again. When you feel how hard he is pressed up against you, you tilt your head back and let your eyes flutter closed. He takes it as an opportunity to swirl his tongue against your neck, and you think about feeling his tongue elsewhere on your body.

Your back presses against the wall even more, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist tighter, pinning you in place. As you utter curses of pleasure into the night air, your feet feel relief for the first time all night, weightless as you destroy any propriety that existed with Logan Delos.

You can feel the sun against your eyelids, and the soft sounds of someone typing away at a keyboard. Between the dull ache at the base of your skull and your throbbing temples, you smack your lips together a few times, grimacing at the dryness in your mouth. You turn your face into what you think is a pillow, but determine to be a fleece blanket due to its soft yet formless design. There’s a faint aroma of coffee in the air, and you hope your roommate left some in the carafe. “Dear god, don’t let me drink that much ever again,” you groan, voice strained and scratchy from dehydration. “I made a complete ass of myself in front of Logan.” A minute passes without your roommate’s usual prodding; all you hear is typing now and then. “How’d we get home?”

You’re met with more silence, but your level of irritation is nothing compared to the hangover headache growing with each passing minute of consciousness. You’re about to ask for Tylenol, when you hear the click and hiss of a glass door opening, followed by the sound of someone splashing in a pool. The apartment you share with your roommate has no access to a pool, let alone a back door made of glass. Opening your eyes feels like peeling apart pieces of tape, but with effort you blink slowly and allow your eyes to focus, trying to ignore the glare from the midday sun. You realize the fleece blanket you were resting on was your arm, nestled in the sleeve of a plush bathrobe. It was the kind of robe often seen hanging in the bathroom of high-end hotels.

“That was a side of you I haven’t seen before. Good morning, sunshine.” The voice is distinctively, impossibly Logan’s, with a new note of lightness to it that wasn’t present during last night’s party. “Care to see something interesting?”

You push yourself off the sofa slowly, adjusting the robe on you - apparently you fell asleep wearing it, and you have no idea where your dress or shoes are - and sit up. Logan’s dressed casually in black, seated at a desk a few feet away, with multiple monitors in front of him. One looks to be running code or tracking stock market activity, but he disconnects the laptop in the middle of the desk and carries it over to the couch, taking a seat next to you. There’s a video clip paused on the screen, and he waits to make sure you’re alert enough to watch, before letting it play.

The video shows a clip from the hotel’s CCTV cameras, pointed at the infinity pool. The only lights are coming from the pool walls, and the timestamp reflects it was the middle of the night, long after the party would’ve ended. There’s a naked male figure treading water matching Logan’s build, and then an undressed woman appears from the bottom edge of the frame, preparing to jump into the pool with him. You gasp, covering your mouth with one hand, making out a tattoo on her lower back - your tattoo - before cannonballing into the pool and making out with Logan just before dipping under the water’s surface.

Logan pauses the video, beaming an annoyingly adorable smug expression across his face as he resists the urge to tease you right away. Instead, he leans over, pecks your cheek, and eyes the glimpse of cleavage availed to him between the folds of your robe. “Lady’s choice - I could fuck your hangover away, or there’s coffee in the kitchen. What’ll it be?”

#logan delos #logan delos x reader #westworld #zaffrenotes writes #apparently for more than one fandom now #is this a fluke?#cw: alcohol #cw: swearing #cw: mild citrus #more than a lime but less than lemons #I love the way Ben cannot drink or eat like a normal human #it's endearing and I love him for it #chomp chomp Bennie

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yoonpobs · 3 years

Text

cold | pjm

pairing: park jimin x oc

genre: fluff, slight tsundere jimin, just cuteness tbh

words: 3, 339

summary: where jimin is ice cold but he wants you to warm him up (not in the way you think)

When Jimin pulls away for the first time in a year since you’ve met him during your movie nights, you suspect that something’s up. But, you also know Jimin—he would have said something to you if there was.

You raise an eyebrow at him, “You good?”

Jimin sighs at you, frustrated and you can’t help but feel confused at the sudden shift of atmosphere. You thought picking La La Land was a good choice, but you suppose that since Jimin was a little emotionally constipated he didn’t like it as much.

“I’m not, actually.” He declares, tugging off the blanket that covered both of your lower halves and withdrew from the warmth that settled into the couch.

“Do you—” You contemplate on asking because being Jimin’s friend meant respecting certain boundaries, and you weren't intending to be that friend that stuck their nose in his business.

You choose to remain silent and purse your lips and settle back into the couch, though it felt a little empty without Jimin bunched up next to you. But he was an enigma of unopened thoughts, and the time you spent navigating the course of your friendship in the first few months was ... heavy.

He’d never tell you anything, let alone allow you to indulge in the greatness that was his mind. You’d always hear from Namjoon how much he looks up to and respects Jimin’s way of thinking and mindset, but you rarely get to see that part of him. Sometimes, you felt more of a seat-warmer than a friend. You appreciate him, nonetheless.

“Aren’t you going to ask me about it?” He pries you.

You shrug, covering yourself with the blanket in hopes that it masks your vulnerability and insecurity, too.

“I know you.” You tell him, “You don’t like being questioned unless you say something about it first.”

He purses his lips in a straight line and looks at you ... like he really looks at you. So much that you feel his eyes burning into the side of your head; as if he was attempting to unravel your mind and dig into its deepest depths to understand its content.

“I don’t …” He says after looking at you, head-turning to face the television. Was La La Land seriously still relevant now?

“But I’m asking you to ask me.” He says, and the look of surprise on your face doesn’t disappoint. You gaped at him, forgetting the fact that Ryan Gosling looked really handsome on the screen—because Jimin had just prompted you to ask him about his … feelings.

“I—I don’t understand …” You say, dumbly. He rolls his eyes at you, and you’re familiar with his expression because it’s the one he usually has when he wants to call you an idiot.

“Ask me how I feel.”

You open your mouth, then close it. Your words fail you because the entire situation was sprung onto you so unexpectedly, and you suddenly feel self-conscious about everything. Was this Jimin’s way of assessing you as a friend and throwing you to the curb after a year of being platonically involved with one another?

As if he could hear the millions of thoughts running in your head, he turns to you and grabs your cheeks in between his large palms, and this time you actually short-circuit.

Your intimacy with Jimin stopped at sitting next to each other during movie nights and embracing the warmth that your bodies radiated. Maybe even the occasional accidental brush of fingers when he hands you something, but besides that—Jimin was conservative with his touches.

You can’t lie and say that your heart doesn’t react differently, because for the most part of your friendship you’ve suppressed any romantic feelings that you had or could have had for Jimin. Mostly out of self-preservation because Jimin was just … Jimin.

Cold, aloof but still someone that cared deeply. Yes, he was emotionally constipated when it came to his own feelings, and yes —his gaze more often than not had you cowering in fear. But he never made you feel uncomfortable. Even in the silences, you spent with one another you felt safe. Home.

Not to mention, his entire brooding and stoic persona hit it really well with the women on campus—and the fact he was obscenely attractive. He and you were the types of people that remained just as friends. And suddenly, that could end tonight, too.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” He hums, eyes chasing your own but you divert your attention away from him because your eyes tell.

You shake your head, “I’m just confused.”

And confused you were because this was a territory that was unheard of for you—much less for Jimin. If only you could telepathically speak to Namjoon right now because you had no idea what to do or say.

“Well, I’ll keep it simple for you,” He says, “ Ask me how I feel.”

He doesn’t ask you anymore, instead, he insists—as if there was a preconceived answer for you already in the back of his head. Maybe this was how he softened the blow.

“No.” You push him away, flustered. “I won’t let you friend break up with me like this!”

He raises an eyebrow at the sudden rise of voice you admitted, “I like being your friend even if you don’t—and—and I know that yeah, consent matters—but I do not consent to be friend broken up with.”

He listens to you, and his face is still in its signature blankness and you nearly scream at how you wished he’d display a little emotion or a reaction to your blow up. But it seems that between the two of you, you were the emotionally unstable one.

“I know I can be annoying and all over the place and loud but ...” You immediately opt to self-deprecate yourself because nothing could triumph the way it felt to do it yourself than have him say it to your face, “... you’re not allowed to leave me. Ever .”

You fold your arms across your chest and look away because what the fuck did you just do and your face was undebatably on fire right now.

As if he’s noticed the way your eyes widen in realisation, he holds you again—but this time he pulls you closer to his chest until you are forced to look up at him with your flushed cheeks.

“Silly girl.” He hums and you whine.

“What!”

“I have to do everything myself, hm?” He tucks a strand of stray hair behind your ears and it was instinctual for you to pull away because you’ve never felt Jimin like this before. Close, and warm—and all yours.

“Jimin I don’t understand— mpf!” And it was like a scene straight out of a romcom, and you nearly forget that La La Land was still running in the background. You felt like the main character of your own movie, and Jimin was the protagonist's love interest because he kissed you.

Jimin was kissing you.

Kissing. Like lip-locking. Sharing saliva. With you.

He pulls away too soon for your liking, but you gape at him like a fish out of water.

“You—” You stutter, and he chuckles. You feel it more than you hear it because his chest was resting against your cheek.

“Do you understand now?”

You shake your head, “... you feel bad for me?”

He snorts.

“I don’t know if you’re actually this much of an idiot, or are you just hopeless in the romantic department?” He says, and you open your mouth in the offense, ready to defend yourself but he hugs you closer to him and all you could feel was him.

“Excuse me? I’m not an idiot.”

“I just kissed you and you thought I felt bad for you.”

You huff, “What am I supposed to feel! You never speak about your emotions to me, and the most I’ve ever got out from you was a chuckle from the time where I slipped in front of the entire campus during freshers week.”

“That was when we met, yes.” He hums, “Why did you think I’ve been with you ever since?”

You still looked confused and Jimin internally sighs at the way he let himself fall for a dense excuse of a human being like you.

“Cause … you felt 'bad for me?”

"Just because you air-quote it doesn't make it any different from what you said earlier ____."

He groans, “No you dumbass—it’s cause no one makes me feel things the way you do. Strange weirdo who slipped on absolutely nothing, and as a friend who forces me to watch shitty romcoms like La La Land.”

“La La Land is not shitty!” You gasp.

He blinks.

“Is that all you got from what I said?”

“La La Land is phenomenal! All from the artistic production, to the soundtrack—so I don't know why people keep shitting on it because personally I really enjoyed—” But he kisses you again, and you melt into him immediately.

This time he lingers for a bit longer, and when he pulls away you grab onto his shirt to keep him close. You realise your mistake and suddenly push him away, but his hold on you was tight enough to resist your poor attempt.

“I like you, dummy.” He says, and you gasp.

“Nooo.” You say in disbelief.

“I like you.” He emphasises again, and you gasp. Again.

“No, you don’t.” You tell him, and he sighs—knowing that this was going to take a while.

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

“I do .”

“Nope.”

“ Yes .”

“Nuh-uh—!”

He clamps his hand over your mouth and glares at you.

“Me. Park Jimin—likes you, ____ ____, and yes —I can’t believe I like a complete idiot like you, but I do because you fucked up and made me like you from the moment you embarrassed yourself in front of everyone so bad that it was probably the hardest I’ve ever cringed in my life—”

“Hey!”

“—but you quite literally stumbled into my life with your whirlwind of emotions and you made me feel things that I’ve tried to avoid my entire life.” He holds your chin between his thumb and finger so you’d look at him. And you know that Jimin never lies, but something in your heart doesn't allow you that moment of happiness for yourself.

“But I'm annoying …” You say, a little unsure. Jimin simply looks at you, and you're frustrated again at the lack of emotion on his face.

“Yes, you are.” Is all he says, and you gape at his audacity.

You huff, throw the blanket off your body and make way to grab at your belongings that lay idle on the floor next to the couch. You pulled away from Jimin who attempted to grab at your wrist and glare at him so vehemently that he looked taken aback.

“This isn't a joke.” You tell him, and you hoped you looked as strong as you sounded because you felt played. Jimin didn't do this—you were just the clumsy freshmen that somehow befriended him, and he had no way out of it. So you decided to give him a way out on your own.

“Wait—of course, it's not—where are you going?” He exasperates when you make a beeline go to his door. You've never seen Jimin move as quickly as he did, but he manages to secure a tight grip on your elbow.

You try to shove him aside all while you felt like an immense idiot for allowing yourself to feel this way. To feel so human, and raw when you were with Jimin when he hadn't shown an inkling of emotion even when he declared that he ‘liked’ you.

“____—what’s wrong? Is it because I kissed you without asking you? I'm sorry but— ” He apologises and you groan.

“Stop treating me like this!” You yell at him to cut him off, “I know I'm clumsy, and a ditz—but I have feelings and it's not cool how you're doing all of—” You gesture to the hand on your elbow and to your lips, “— this, making me feel things that I shouldn't be feeling.”

“You're missing the point—!”

“Am I Jimin?” You exasperate, and he lets go of you for a moment to allow you space. “You've never shown any sign that you liked me for the past year of being friends, and now you're telling me you do?”

You scoff, “If you wanted out of this friendship, here it is.”

You reach to his doorknob with your back turned towards him, but Jimin was far stronger than you and reached out at the same time; essentially locking you into your position with nowhere to go.

“Just let me go,” You sigh, “I'm giving you your out.”

Jimin turns your body to face him and you avoid his stare. He was taller than you so being locked against the door was a little intimidating, given the fact that Jimin’s stare was nothing short of intimidating.

“Why would I want out?” He asks you, and you blink at him as if he's grown a second head.

“Now you're just treating me like I'm stupid .” You pout, “Did you not hear what I said? I know I'm annoying and I'll get out of your hair, just let me go—!”

You pull at his wrist but he holds you tighter and uses his other hand to softly grab at your cheeks to look at him. You stare at him with wide eyes and mouth scrunched like a fish, and you're sure this doesn't look the least bit flattering at all.

“Dude!”

“Please don't dude me after I just said I liked you.” He grimaces, then sighs.

He proceeds to clamp his hand over your mouth, “Now I need you to listen to me. And I mean— really listen. Not the thing that you do where you completely ignore my point and go on some childish rampage of how I think you’re annoying and want out.”

You glare at him.

He sighs, “I don't know how explicit I have to be—but I like you. I like your presence, I like hanging out with you—and I want to date you. I want everything that's in the book of romance and relationships with you.”

Your eyes widened and you attempt to speak but he clamps down harder than you whine.

“I know I'm an emotionless brick but I've been with you for the past year and my physical presence is the way I show you that I like you.”

You blink.

“And, I don't know if you've noticed but I've been inviting you over every fortnight just to cuddle up next to you to watch movies that are cheesy as fuck because I know that it makes your heart flutter—” He looks straight into your eyes and you're sure he can feel the heat of your cheeks on his hand.

“—I didn’t say this earlier because I was under the impression that you were aware and that we were kind-of-dating but not really— clearly, I was wrong.”

You manage to rip his hand off in his moment of weakness and gasp, “Kind-of-dating? Since when did that even happen?!”

He pointedly looks at you, “You have a toothbrush at my place, half of your closet is in mine—you walk my dog when I'm not home, and I buy your favourite cereal when I do groceries.”

“But—”

“Nope—the only reason I explicitly told you tonight because it was now clear to me that you weren't aware—” He gestures to your frazzled state, “—and that you said you were going out with Taehyung. Alone. To a pizza parlour.”

You barely manage to respond because he exasperates, “Do you know how datey a pizza parlour is?”

You gape at him, “Well excuse me! I didn't even know we were kind-of-dating until a minute ago!”

He glares at you, “And you didn't even believe me when I told you I liked you.”

You fold your arms across your chest, “Obviously. You don't even hold my hand, and you've never kissed me until tonight.”

You punch his shoulder and he hisses, “You didn't even formally ask me out!”

“You’re a scaredy-cat and if I did ask you out you’d probably run away from me!” He exasperates with his hands in the air.

“I’m not a scaredy-cat and I won’t run away!” You argue back and you were suddenly aware of how close he was to you.

You look up at him and notice how pretty his eyelashes were, and how he does look at you with an intimacy that you've only seen for yourself. The look that he reserved for you.

“I'm asking you out now,” He whispers, cupping your cheek.

“Date me. Be with me.”

You scoff, “God. Can’t you even be a little romantic? It’s like you’re demanding me to be with you.” You respond petulantly like a child.

He groans, “I'm not going to grovel you if that's what you're expecting.”

“Tell me why then.”

He raises an eyebrow.

You clear your throat and fiddle with your thumbs, a nervous tick you have.

“Tell me why you like me.”

Jimin stares at you and you want to complain about his stoic expression but he cups your cheeks in his hands a little harder and forces you to really look at him—as if his face held all the answers.

And when you did, you see the desperation behind his eyes, the dedication that he possesses only for you. The way he looks at you like he's meant to prove something to you, and then everything made sense to you—he wasn't inexpressive—you were just too caught up in your own world that you never noticed.

“Jimin—” Your voice cracks but he shushes you, softly.

“Listen to me, okay?” He asks of you and you gently nod.

“I like you because you're here,” He starts off and you were about to scoff but he speaks again knowing your predetermined reaction, “You’re present— always. I don't mean just because we're always together, but because even when we're texting you're there. You're involved.”

“You're expressive in ways that don't need words to tell me anything, which is why I know you like me too.”

“Cocky, much?” You scoff but the burn on your cheeks give the truth away

He smiles a little before continuing, “But that's not it—I like you because you're patient. You stuck with me being emotionally constipated for the first half of our friendship, and yet you're still here.”

“Even though you nearly ran out of here spewing some bullshit about me taking you as a joke—”

“Okay … I may have blown it out of proportion.”

“—but I wouldn't want to have you any other way. Even if it took me literally trapping you against a door for you to listen.”

You melt into his touch and look up at him, “Do you really like me?”

“I really do.” He affirms you, and you tug him closer to bury your head into his chest.

“Can you hold my hand next time?” You ask, softly. And he chuckles against the top of your head, caressing it gently.

“Of course. That's the only way you won't run away from me next time, right?” He teases.

You whine.

“I'm never going to let you go.” He tells you, “You're pretty like this—all mine .”

You smile up at him and Jimin swears his heart melts to be rebuilt whole by you again.

“But you called me an idiot ...”

“Two things can be true at the same time.”

You gasp, “Rude—!”

He shuts you up with a kiss more passionate, and a lot more eager that has your head spinning.

When he pulls away, you feel your heartbeat a little faster—especially at the string of saliva that connects your mouths.

“Mine,” He says. You can't help but nod.

His.

#bts fic #bts imagine #bts fics #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts jimin #jimin x reader #jimin fluff #mutual pining #crushes #jimin imagine #jimin fic #fluff #park jimin x reader #jimin thunders #park jimin fluff

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xo-cuteplosion-xo · 3 years

Note

Hello! First of all, congratulations for 100 followers! Your writing is amazing so I'm sure you'll keep growing fast! For the event I request Route 1: scenario with Dazai x Reader, 1 and 12, angst to fluff

Thank you so much! I hope you enjoy this!

I'm so sorry if it's more angst than you had wanted. I had a hard time thinking of scenarios to use with these two lines + Dazai.

1-But… I love you. 12- Are you mad at me? |Dazai x Reader|

Warnings: violence- mild blood

Words- 1,147

The air was tedious today; Thin fog dusted the atmosphere, the heavy humidity causing clothes to stick. Such an atmosphere was always disapproved of; The limited sight made battles difficult. Having to deduct where shots came based on sound alone. Sitting behind a flipped car you held the gun in your hand. Glancing to Dazai, who was lost in thought, you let out a subtle sigh. “Something bothering you?” Dazai asked, looking over at you skeptically, as the tan of his coat fluttered in the breeze that followed.

Shaking your head you fiddled with the trigger. “What if I miss and…” he was quick to shush you. He had thought about it too; if accidentally killing under the conditions he was in right now, would be an act of evil. Would his deceased friend disapprove of it? He pulled from his thoughts again, clearing his mind as he looked back at you.

“You won’t be firing towards the other shots. You’re just going to make it seem we’re shooting from elsewhere,” Dazai spoke calmly, despite the evident worry that had crossed his eyes a moment ago.

Doing as he said you aimed in the strangest directions. Pausing only when other shots echoed out. Dazai leaned against the car's side. Placing his hands onto it to sturdy his shot. He was aware of a sniper, but he was going to risk this since his plans had never failed him before. Sure he’d been nearly killed a few times, but he always avoided death. If the shot did aim for his head, and he died without feeling the pain by your side, he wouldn’t mind that kind of death. Even though it wasn’t suicide, he was doing a suicidal action. It worked out both ways. Just as he saw the silhouette he was waiting for, a shot that was not his gun fired. Expecting pain or even death, Dazai shut his eyes. When the sound of a gun clattering found its way to his ears; He found himself paralyzed. Another shot fired, and he opened his eyes in time to shoot the moving silhouette. He didn’t want to turn his head.

Looking to the sniper's location, he fell breathless. His eyes snapping in your direction. “You idiot!” he hissed, dropping his gun to move over to your shaking hands. “I told you not to shoot!” he hissed raising his voice ever so lightly. With a heavy glare, he glanced around as if checking for any other enemies. Even if he already knew there were none left. “Damn it y/n. You could have gotten hit or worse killed. I told you to stay put!” looking from your shaking hands to meet his eyes, you teared up. Adrenaline so far was preventing you from feeling the pain, but your body was reacting.

You spoke up with a hoarse voice, shocking yourself with how sore your throat was getting. It stung as if something vile wanted to escape. “A-are you mad at me?” you tilted your head, watching him give you an expression somebody gives at an obvious question. It was rare for him to willingly show things like this.

“Of course I am! You put yourself in harm's way!” you questioned why he cared. He had never shown interest in liking you before. He was always freely flirting with others. It tugged at your heart, the way he spoke angrily but with worry.

As your lips parted to speak you took a sharp inhale choking on something you couldn’t place. The adrenaline had died down letting your brain catch up with what had happened to you physically. Trying to inhale your expression turned into terror. With tears welling in your eyes, Dazai noticed right away. His eyes showed panic before concealing it. Reaching to your back he took the base of his palm and hit you rather harshly. Just as your vision began blurring you coughed, red splintering onto the pavement. Taking quick and sharp inhales you ran your finger under your shirt. Looking to Dazai with a warning look, he glared right back at you. “Why… Why do you care.” your voice trembled over syllables as you lifted your shirt just enough to get a good view. Reaching to the metal that had just barely entered your skin after going through the vest and your shirt, Dazai grabbed your hand. Looking at him you tried pulling away.

“I care alright? Is that enough to get you to stop being a reckless idiot? Removing the bullet will do more damage. It likely pierced something and caused a rupture. Removing it might flood your lungs with blood, immediately.” you had never seen Dazai like this. He was acting based on emotion and mild thought. His eyes looked around, spotting your phone. He opened it, dialing Yosano. Setting the phone down, he sighed leaning against the metal of the car. Closely monitoring you, his eyes didn’t leave you.

“You’re a hypocrite. You knew standing up there was suicidal. If I didn’t act you’d have been shot and probably killed!” raising your voice, you leaned over only for more violent coughs to leave your body; your system cleared as much of the crimson liquid from your lungs as possible. Dazai crawled over to you pulling you to your side. He moved you into the perfect position to keep your lungs clear.

“I know that. It’s different though, you have people who care about you. My life doesn't matter because of everything I’ve done but…” he trailed off unsure how to explain himself. Lifting your head to his lap, he ran his fingers through your hair. “But… I love you. I don’t know what I'd do if you died before me too. I could hardly hold together with Oda… if you fell to the same fate I think I'd be unredeemable. I'd lose all my will to live. I wouldn’t care about anything anymore.” glancing up to him you moved with a few winces. Wrapping arms around him you hold him close.

“This isn’t fair,” you whispered burying your head into the crook of his neck. “How do you think I’d feel if you died Dazai?” Dazai didn’t seem to get what you were trying to say. No, it was more he couldn’t believe his ears. “Once Yosano fixes me up, I want a kiss.” you smiled relaxing within his arms.

Waking up you looked to Dazai who entertained your words from earlier, leaning down he landed a soft kiss on your lips. Running his thumb over your cheek, a half-smile ghosted his lips. “You did say you wanted one,” he smirked, watching as your cheeks became rosy.

“Yeah… just wasn’t expecting it.” you chuckled, reaching to play with the brunette's messy locks. The two of you locked eyes, lost in the beauty of each other, words were spoken without voice.

#bsd #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs #dazai #dazai angst #dazai fluff #dazai angst to fluff #dazai x reader #dazai x reader fluff #dazai x reader angst #dazai x reader fluff to angst

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corysmiles · 3 years

Note

Sup! I'm back from Barcelona! Hope you're doing well!

Remember that sbi rust prompt you gave me a month or 2 ago? It is done (not readproff tho so there may be some mistakes) anyway enjoy my grand return!

Edit: did you know 250 paragraphs is the limit lenght to an ask? On an unrelated note I will have to cut this into multiple parts so enjoy this first chapter!

-----

"Whaaat the-"

Wilbur took a step back, mouth agape and watched the figure inside of the dome. A human, identical in the looks, if not for the size of it.

When he went to explore the looming monument that rose from near his house, he expected food or scientific papers, perhaps some gas masks and equipment, not a... giant.

Weren't those things a myth?? Just a silly fictional creature to scare children away, not... not real and THERE, sleeping right in front of him??

The thing was curled up on himself, unable to fit in the 30ft wide sphere if going to its full lenght.

Wilbur was trapped in the walls of flesh.

And to his dismay, he was just in time to witness the creature wake up.

Lazily, they opened their eyes, squinting. They looked at their surroundings, the roof, the walls, the floor.

And the man was able to pinpoint the exact moment their eyes landed on him.

They gasped softly, almost mute. Their eyes widened, and they stood here, studying the punny intrudor for a too long moment. Only after, they spoke, barely above a whisper.

"Uhm... hello."

Wilbur expected the giant to speak, seeing how akin to a human he was, but he didn't expect such a young voice to be held by the.... boy?

"Hey." Wilbur waved, hand as shaking and hesitant as his voice.

"... What's your name?" They spoke.

Wilbur gulped, more on instinct. "Uuh, Wilbur. Who are you? What are you doing here?" He pointed.

They nodded in a hum before looking at the floor below, eyes a bit blurry.

"I...my name is Tommy. And uh... this is where I sleep."

The stare the human kept on the boy was intense, full of disbelief and curiosity. It was uncomfortable.

He shifted a bit. And Wilbur's eyes darted towards the small movements. Ah, right. Humans were hyperaware.

"It's been a while since I met someone around here."

"Yeah, I can imagine that... ever since the nuclear incident, it's been quite the task to find someone." Wilbur explained. What did this being knew exactly?

"Oh... I see." He lowered his head, before letting it rest on the floor, and holy shit he was even bigger than he thought.

He swallowed the lump back down his throat, and sat legs crossed.

The giant, which looked like a teenager now that he got to see his face up close, kept looking at him, expression almost bored.

Then, without much a warning, he lifted his hand and moved it towards the human, who instantly scrumbled away as fast as he could.

"wowowwoowowo- what-"

The hand froze, and when he looked at Tommy, the expression was sad, almost hurt.

Silence filled the room for a minute.

"Sorry" the giant apologized. "I must be quite scary, huh?"

Without much thinking, wilbur nodded. "Um, yeah"

"It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you." He reassured, his voice pathetic. "Can I come closer?"

Wilbur looked at the hand, then at the teen. He took a deep breath before nodding, earning a pleased smile from the blond.

More careful, a hand thrice his size came to him, fingers slowly wrapping themselves around the human. He tensed, unwilling to move an inch despite his mind begging him to get out of here.

He closed his eyes in anticipation, but after a minute of stillness, he felt a rough pressure on his head, ruffling his hairs.

"Wha- what are you doing?" He asked, refusing to open his eyes yet.

Before he got an answer, the mass, which he recognized as a thumb, moved from playing with the hair to caress his skin as gently as possible.

With much hesitation, the human opened his eyes and met the face of the teen, who beared an expression of pure shock and wonder.

As the thumb rubbed against his cheek, he inhaled, shivered.

"You're so small... so fragile..."

His face was washed with a wave of sadness, while Wilbur drew his hand closer to the gun hidden in his jacket.

"How do you feel, wilbur? Do you feel fragile?" His voice was as sad as unreadable.

And at the moment, Wilbur did feel as powerless as a bug stuck in a web. A tall, wide web. Not that he would tell Tommy.

"... Is that a threat?" He asked instead.

"No, I'm just curious." A sort of melancholy couldn't leave the giant's face. "If I were to threaten someone, it would be because they acted like a bitch. You're not a bitch as far as I know."

The curse took Wilbur off guard, and he found himself giggling at the vocabulary. The blong smiled as well.

Then, the thumb moved from the face and slowly descended to cover his chest (entirely)

And....

It felt... like a hug?

How long has it been since Wilbur has been hugged.

The gesture was confusing.

"... why?" He voiced.

"I don't know. I know people like hugs. Makes them feel safe."

He eyed the fingers around him before focusing, wary, on the face.

"What are you planning to do to me?"

"Huh?!" He raised eyebrow and his hands left Wilbur's surrounding in a too quick motion, gesturing in defense. "Nothing!! I just want you to be comfortable. Been a while since I talked to anyone." Without the giant controling his volume, Wilbur had to cover his ear at the sudden booming sound.

He nodded nontheless, still unsure, and the silence drawn out.

"...why did you want to explore the dome?"

For some reason, the echoing voice was quite soothing to the human's ears, now that it was bearable. He took a few steps and put his hand on the part of the dome not blocked by an enormous mass. His finger carressed the copper walls until he was sat.

"I wanted to explore. I don't live very far, and this structure intrigued me. I expected to find some researches, not.... uh..."

Tommy smiled and understood the man without him having to finish. "Yeah. I'm not really something to be expected."

He nodded. "And you've been here for a while?"

"Not so much." The giant responded, "I usually travel from place to place trying to survive, pretty much like everyone else."

"I see..."

"I can try and look out for any paper or stuff if you want, so next time you come, I can hand them over."

Wilbur paused. The idea of returning to the giant made him frown, but the blond did seem to hold no grudges against him.

".... Maybe." He landed on.

And visibly, the teen was elated at the news, his grin growing to his ear and his hands joining in a clap. (As gentle as he could to not make the small man deaf.)

"Welp." He got up, before he got a sugar overdose from seeing that excitment. "I think I'm gonna head back."

"Do you want me to help you get back home?" The other proposed, enthusiast.

"No."

It was quiet for a moment, silence only disturbed by the giant shifting position. It was... unusual. But the enormous teen didn't seem hostile, and if Wilbur could get himself such an ally, he wouldn't take it down.

And so he returned home.

---

2 days later, he returned.

He was surprised as well, but curiosity guided his steps much more than his fears ever since the giant teen revealed himself a potential ally.

He inhaled deeply before climbing the stairs, his feet landing on the metalic ground.

The smile on the teenager's face when he turned around and met the tiny man was as heartwarming as nervewracking.

"YOU'RE BACK!!!" He cheered, and already the human had to cover his ears, the joyous scream deafening. He realized his mistake pretty soon though as he covered his mouth and mumbled, much quieter "Sorry. Hi Wilbur."

"Hello, Tommy." He replied, cautiously removing his hands from his ear. "How have you been?" He started. Usual politeness shouldn't be too awkward.

It took all the self control of the blond to keep his voice quiet enough when he said "I've been fine, thank you." The energy bubbling from him only made Wilbur chuckle.

"Good, good." Wilbur took a few steps towards the blond (or rather his face, since the teen was kind of all around the room) "You seem happy to see me."

Tommy nodded way too quickly and strongly as he confirmed. "Yep! I-" he pained keeping his voice low "-I wasn't sure if you'd really come back. I'm very very very glad you didn't lie. Especially since I have..... THIS!!"

He didn't even bother whispering as his hand came to view, previously hidden behind his back, and coming towards Wilbur in a fist at a racing pace. The brunette couldn't help but flinch back.

Tommy stopped mid-way, realizing his carelessness once more. He whispered an apology and the hand came, much slower this time. (Almost comically slow, but Wilbur wouldn't really complain)

Then, when only at about 6ft away from the man, the hand opened, revealing several piles of papers.

Wilbur's eyes widened. He looked at the blond, confused.

"You said you wanted to look for researches and stuff, sooo I tried finding some. And you were right! There are papers everywhere in here!"

Wilbur looked at the floor which he now realized was almost white from sheets, as well as the several seemingly blank pages stuck on the giant's body, and nodded, repressing a chuckle.

"Yep. Everywhere."

Tommy held back a laugh as well, and Wilbur tried visualizing how this.... god knows how tall being could try opening drawers with his nails barely thin enough to hold the handler, and reading papers the size of a pins on his hands, all while trying to manœuver his body so he wasn't blocking the rest of the building.

He would lie if he said the thought wasn't amusing.

He went for the paper, and without much thinking hopped onto the hand, since the papers were mostly at the center of his palm.

He grabbed a few and sat down, begining reading when he felt a shaky inhale. He looked up to meet the amused eyes of the blond.

"... Seat's comfortable?" He teased, as playful as baffled.

Wilbur frowned, then looked below him and his eyes widened as he registered. He shot straight up.

"Oh-oh oh I'm so sorry- I- I sincerely apologize I-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence as he covered his ears, a wheezed laugh echoing through the entire thing and sending Wilbur shaking from the vibrations.

He found himself laughing as well, barely able to keep up his balance as he stepped out of the hand, a good chunk of paper held between his chest and arms.

The laughs finally died down, the blond disforming his face with his hand trying hard to muffle the sounds. He looked back at the human with what could only be described as adoration. The hand left his face and he chuckled still as he talked.

"Ahh, don't worry about it. I expected you to just take the papers and go, but this? This was funny. Definitely the first time someone sits on my hand like that."

"I-... is it a bad thing?" Wilbur asked, taking slow steps backward while he kept a smile. The last thing he wanted was to upset a giant he was trapped with. Sure, the kid was nice, even though overwhelming, but a wrong gesture could change that first part pretty quickly.

"Nah, I don't mind. If the floor is too cold for your liking, you can sit here."

Wilbur sighed in relief and gave the blond a smile. "Alright. Thanks."

He still chose to sat on the floor, and started reading again. His intuition was right, there was tons of information in here.

He read in silence, only disturbed every once in a while when Tommy asked what was in the sheets. Wilbur explained as easily as possible and kept the details for himself. Tommy was satisfied with the answer he was given, though, so that wasn't a problem.

He was only a quarter through the first pile of paper when he felt something approaching. He froze when a mass, probably a finger, found itself on top of Wilbur's head.

There was a beat of silence when neither moved, and the finger ruffled ever so slightly his hair.

It was a bit awkward, but it wasn't uncomfortable, so he didn't protest.

A soft voice pierced through the silence.

"If I press on your head too hard or hurt you, warn me. You're small so I don't know how much pressure I can apply on you."

"Alright." Wilbur nodded. "You're doing fine right now, I'll tell you if that changes."

The rest of the reading was done with Tommy gently playing with Wilbur's hair or tapping his back in an attempt at a 'massage' (as Tommy called it). It was distracting, but not uncomfortable. At times, even soothing.

It was almost night when Wilbur read most of the first pile. He got up with the paper he read already and looked for an empty drawer.

Fortunately, since Tommy spent 2 days scrambling to get every possible paper out, it wasn't much of a challenge. Below Tommy's angled leg was a furniture. He went and deposited it.

"That should be good." He said as he closed it. He then turned around to meet the blond. "Well, I think it's time for me to go home. I'll be back soon though, this place is VERY interesting."

He forced himself not to fake a gag at Tommy's smile. Urg. So genuine.

"Yeaaayyy" the giant stage-whispered while clapping his hands as softly and quickly as possible. "It's nice having you around. Can I do anything to help you?"

Wilbur brought a hand to his chin and thought for a moment. "If you find an empty book, you can give it to me next time. I'll bring one myself though so you don't have to tear this place upside down to find one." That made Tommy chuckle.

And so, Wilbur returned home once more.

THIS IS SO GOOD MEL OMG!!!

Pls read this it’s amazing and so well done, I love the rust server and this is so good :D

#mcyt gt community #mcyt g/t #t!wilbur #g!tommy #rust server #melissas writing #ITS SO GOOD #READ THIS NOW #THIS IS A THREAT #>:D

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