#I hid it in my windowsill and thought for sure they knew | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anjaelle · 7 months

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White Light | Part VIII

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Pairing: Ghost!Aaron Taylor-Johnson x Black!Reader Warnings: DEATH, BLOOD, mentions of drug use. Graphic depiction of death. Word Count: 2.3K Summary: Darkness falls... A/N: Two chapters left.

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When he ran his fingers over the guitar strings, you could see the longing in his eyes and in the clench of his jaw. You knew very little about instruments. You saw it collecting dust in the corner of a thrift shop, lonely and in desperate need of repair, and you took it. You didn't even know if he'd be able to use it. If he could take it to the other side with him when he inevitably left.

None of that mattered to you. You just knew he'd need it. When it came back to you, repaired and good as new, you rushed home to give it to him.

"I know you said you played bass," you rushed to say as he grasped the guitar neck in shaking hands, "But I also remember you saying that you used to play guitar too. At least for a little while. And...yeah..."

"Why?" He asked, softly, cradling the guitar like it was a newborn in his hands.

"I don't know," you admitted, "I just figured I'd--you needed something good. Just for once."

He swallowed hard, and let out a short laugh before running his fingers through his curls and turning away.

"It's so...wow. I mean...Shit."

You fidgeted with your fingers as he took a moment to collect his thoughts, unsure of what to say next. And as he turned to you again, golden hour washed over you both, casting you in a warm glow that made him seem more alive than you'd ever seen him.

"Thank you." His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat then laughed, "I need to re-learn how to play this thing. It's been a while."

You watched the mirth dance across his face and leaned against the windowsill in satisfaction, "Mhm. Because you owe me a song for my troubles. Maybe even two."

In the blink of an eye, he pulled you in for a deep kiss, cradling your face in his warm hands. His thumbs swept across the apples of your cheeks before his hands slipped down to the back of your neck, down your shoulders, your chest, and finally slipping around your waist to pull you in closer. You didn't remember draping your arms around his shoulders, or curling your fingers in his dark curls. Like muscle memory. Like in another life you'd done it a million times.

He pulled away only to pepper your face with more kisses, something you felt like he'd wanted to do for so long by how his hands grabbed your hips.

"I'll write you a library of music." He breathlessly said, kissing you again, "Whatever you want."

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You stared at the stained wood floor, numb to the reality of what you've just discovered. It felt like the old, brown stain was growing in width, crawling towards you like you called to it. The ringing in your ears, and the sharp, shallow breaths you took nearly drowned out the sound of the intercom when it rang.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" You asked him, finally forcing yourself to look directly into his face and not at what remained of his body spilled onto the floor. He looked...sick. Pale. Very much dead. And it startled you. How many times had you both walked over this spot. Could he feel it underneath the layers of varnish and paint? If he could, he hid it well. But judging by the way he worked his jaw and avoided eye contact with you, you didn't think he knew any better than you about what the landlord may have done.

You asked again, "Aaron, are you sure you want to do this?"

His eyes flickered over to you, dull and lifeless, before refocusing on the stain, "Yeah."

The intercom rang again and you hesitated before pressing the buzzer to let the visitor in. You could almost hear your heart thrumming in your ears as the footsteps creaked on the staircase and echoed down the hall.

You tried to practice what you'd say when they finally arrived, but you weren't entirely sure if it was worth it to rehearse. After all, you'd probably sound like a crazy person.

It was worth a try.

A heavy knuckle rapped against the door, pulling you from your thoughts as suddenly as you slipped into them. You shot another glance at him, and then dragged yourself to the door. And as your hand hesitated over the doorknob, Aaron cleared his throat behind you.

"Do it. I need to know."

You nodded and took a deep breath before pulling the door open. Danny--Aaron's childhood friend, former bandmate, and one of the last people to see him alive--looked you over with a furrowed brow of concern.

"Shit, love, you look like death."

You felt like death.

You forced a faint smile that instantly fell and you shook your head in an effort to get your thoughts together. What little thoughts you had, anyway.

"I...this isn't going to be easy. I couldn't really tell you over the phone. So thank you for coming."

You took a step back to allow him into your space. He seemed to pause before crossing the threshold. You could imagine it was a surreal experience to be in a place you made so many memories in, so long ago.

"It feels the same. Though you're loads neater than we all were." He chuckled softly to himself, lost in his memories for a moment, "Do you still have that one burner on the stove that you need to kinda rev up to get going?"

You smiled at that. Mildly annoyed that the landlord never bothered to change the kitchen in 20 years but also mildly charmed by the idea that you and your visitor had another thing in common with one another.

"Yeah, I hate it. I try to avoid using it as often as possible."

"We did too," he added wistfully. You could see his eyes starting to water, and he turned away to collect himself. "Is this gonna be a tough chat?"

You wanted to say no. Maybe spare the inevitable pain his close friend would feel in having to relive the night--and the follow up--all over again. But then you glanced over at Aaron standing at the window, still and closed off like an old Gothic statue of a biblical martyr. This wasn't about you. This wasn't even about Danny. You straightened your back and forced the words out.

"I found his blood. On...on the floor. A-and the windowsill." You shakily admitted aloud for the first time. You saw him visibly stiffen at the admission, and his eyes widened.

"Who's blood?"

"Aaron's. I found it."

"He's playing dumb," Aaron suddenly said, beside you, "he knows what happened. Ask him."

You weren't sure if he saw your eyes flicker to the space beside you registering everything the unseen entity was saying.

Danny shoved his hands in his pockets, anxiously, "How do you know it's his?"

You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves, and asked pointedly, "How did he die, Danny? What happened that night?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because he's here." You plainly stated, motioning beside you at the shape he couldn't see.

He gave you a strange look, and sneered at you, "You're sick. You're fucking sick, and this is a terrible thing to do."

Aaron rolled his eyes, "He's so full of shit."

"Fine ask me something only Aaron would know. Since I'm supposedly a liar, it'd be easy to prove wouldn't it?" You calmly asked.

"I'm not entertaining this." He grumbled, turning to leave.

"Tell him that you know he stupidly bought drugs off some guy in an alley in California and accidentally snorted fiberglass and baby powder after the Berkley show. I was the only one that sat in the waiting room for him."

"He did WHAT?" You blurted out.

"What?" He turned again, looking at you like you had three heads. You briefly glanced at Aaron again, who motioned for you to share what he said.

"Um..." you swallowed, slightly disturbed by the new information you were given, "He says you accidentally snorted fiberglass and baby powder after the Berkley show? And that none of your friends waited in the hospital for you but him?"

His eye twitched and you felt like he might yell at you, instead he took a deep breath, "Who told you about that? It was fuckin' Natalia wasn't it?"

For fucks sake.

"I've never even met Talia, but I know she was there that night wasn't she? Come on, help me out here."

He stared at you for an uncomfortably long time.

"Who are you?"

You chose to ignore that question, "I know there was an argument that night, Gavin hit him over the head, and he was dead after that. What. Happened. That. Night?"

Danny sighed and took a step towards you, "You know, I hadn't thought about Gavin in ages. Not until he died, anyway. Overdose. Not surprising, but still sad all the same. We separated on pretty bad terms. He got too big, decided he didn't need us. I make the effort to talk to his kids at least once a week, even though he was a piece of shit in the end. Talia took it hard. But even then, I rarely thought about Gavin."

"From what I heard, he was hard to be around sometimes," you said. Aaron snorted, leaning up against the wall.

Danny quirked a brow at you, "From what you heard?"

"He's in denial," Aaron sighed. "Can't say I blame him. I didn't believe in that crazy ghost shit either. But, y'know, here we are."

Danny glanced in Aaron's direction like he heard him, but you were sure he couldn't have. The younger man pushed himself off the wall and walked up to Danny, circling him in examination. You saw his shoulders visibly tense.

"I told you, Aaron is literally here." You carefully reiterated, motioning to where he was standing.

"What else has he told you?" Danny asked.

"That he was in love with Talia, that Gavin was jealous. Considering how things turned out, I guess he wasn't too far off with that assumption." You tried to hide the hint of shameful jealousy in your voice. "I assumed that's why Gavin killed him."

He said nothing. Aaron sidled up beside you, looking him over suspiciously.

"He's acting weird." He murmured.

"You think Gavin killed him over a girl?" Danny plainly asked.

"I think things like that are sadly very common. Jealousy, drugs, money, love. People will kill for a number of things." You subconsciously found yourself taking a small step back.

The red-headed older man sighed deeply, "I loved Aaron, man. I know I said I didn't think that much about Gavin before he finally fucked off to Hell or wherever he ended up. But I think about Aaron every day. He was the one that taught me how to write sheet music, y'know? I'm still not very good. I try though." He scratched the back of his head. You were having a hard time following the conversation, "We knew we were fucked. The minute it happened--when he stopped moving--we knew...what the fuck were we gonna do? It was so stupid. Just an accident."

"Accidents happen." You carefully whispered, taking another small step back. His eyes caught the movement.

"Accidents do happen. All the time. But our apartment was filled with drugs, we were about to get our biggest break yet, we had so much to lose. I--we loved the guy. We did. But we could always get another bassist."

Your heart sank, "Why would you do that to him? Your own friend?"

"Don't act so self-righteous. Have you ever had anything to lose? Have you ever been desperate?" Danny took a step towards you, "Have you ever been hungry? You do what you need to."

Alarm signals went off in your head, and Aaron appeared behind him, "You need to leave. Now."

It didn't make sense to you, "If it was an accident, why hide it? Why not just admit what happened?"

Your words died in your throat when you noticed how close he was standing to you. Your blood ran ice cold, paralyzing you in fear you'd never felt before. You locked eyes with Aaron over his shoulder as he leaned over you.

"Then again," you whispered, "I could be wrong. It could just be a mistake--"

It felt like you'd been punched in the stomach. You wondered why he would do that to you when he was so much larger than you? When you'd been so nice to him? When you both loved Aaron as much as you did?

Then the pain doubled. You clutched your stomach just as he pulled the blade out, and your hands were covered in blood. You didn't register Aaron screaming for you and pushing Danny into a table across the room, or the sound of breaking wood and glass.

Your knees buckled under you, your vision darkened. You tried to drag yourself across the floor. To what? You weren't sure. You just wanted the pain to stop. You wanted someone to find you and make everything better.

You thought of your grandmother, your friends, and your parents. And as the blurry visage of Aaron appeared in front of you, you started to cry.

"Please, please, please. I don't want to die," you tried to say as your vision blurred.

If he was saying anything you couldn't understand it. You felt yourself struggling to breathe, you tasted blood on your tongue.

This couldn't be it. This couldn't be how you fucking died. You were angry. So angry that you could scream and punch the floor.

And then...

He grabbed you in his arms, and you were falling. Through the floor. Through the veil that separated you from the rest of the world.

Into darkness that enveloped you both.

#aaron taylor johnson #atj x reader #aaron taylor johnson x black reader #fic: white light #atj x black reader #jae writes

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unbanned-rescue-cat · 8 months

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Clean up!

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Yano sighed. She looked over the classroom, with the tables and chairs in disarray. She turned her head to the windowsill, where a thin layer of dust was collecting. Ah, even the windows needed some wiping. Yano gripped her broom in her hands, before she bowed her head, sweeping the floor.

She could hear her fellow classmates outside, laughing and running about. It was the last class of the week, so it was no wonder everyone wanted to go and have fun with their friends.

"Friends..." Yano thought to herself, her lips pressed in a tight line. She gave the floor another aggressive sweep, not because there was some dirt.

"I knew it!"

Yano looked up to the sound of the familiar voice. Standing at the doorway of the classroom was Hime. She was peering inside, her hands on the door frame. She was smiling at Yano, as if she was glad to see her. "You're doing the cleaning by yourself?"

Yano smiled happily at Hime, but quickly hid it, and turned away, sweeping the same spot on the floor. "Yeah... The others had to go somewhere in a hurry... I prefer doing this alone, anyway."

"Again? This is the third time this week!" Hime sounded upset. "I bet they're lying having to leave."

"You're one to talk." Yano looked over her shoulder at Hime. She gave Hime a gentle smile, while the other girl gave an embarrassed giggle. "Did you need something? We don't have piano practice today."

Hime's eyes lit up, as she remembered her purpose. She's so easily distracted. "Oh, yeah! I heard there's some yummy crepes down the road! Wanna get some?"

Yano was about to answer. But paused, and remembered why she was still in class. She took a step back and shook her head. "I can't. I got to clean and organise the classroom. You go ahead without me."

For a moment, Hime stared at Yano, as if she was looking for something. Yano blushed at Hime's stare, not sure how shes supposed to respond. "What?"

"I see." Hime nodded her head, before she withdrew from the room. Now that Hime was gone, Yano sighed.

It was better this way. There was no way Yano would ask Hime to help her clean up. It was hard for Yano to imagine Hime doing chores, anyway. Hime has better things to do than help Yano. It was just a bit sad that Hime didn't even say goodbye.

Suddenly, Hime barged into the classroom, a bucket full of water and a wet rag in her hands. "I'll wipe down the windows and the desks!" Hime announced without even glancing at the surprised Yano.

"Hime? What are you doing-" Yano made a step towards the other girl. "You don't have to help me-"

"But I want to?" Hime was already doing her job, briskly wiping the windows. "Eating crepes wouldn't be as yummy if I know you're slaving here by your lonely self."

Yano was about to retort, and once more she stopped short. She pouted, watching Hime's back before she continued her sweeping.

"I'm not lonely..." Yano softly said.

It took the two grade schoolers an hour until the room was tidy. Usually, Yano worked by herself quietly, with her thoughts keeping her company. But with Hime there to talk to, she wasn't lonely.

"I'm not lonely." Yano smiled to herself, as she looked over the clean classroom. Hime nudged her shoulders with Yano, as she lugged her bucket with both hands.

"Hmmm? What was that just now?" Hime asked with a sly smile. Yano giggled, as she closed the classroom door. Yano replied with a shake of her head, which made Hime pout. "Hey! That's not fair! I just saved you, you know!"

"Yes. You did save me." Yano smiled brightly. Hime's pout disappeared, and her cheeks flushed as Yano kept smiling. "You saved me, Hime." She said again, this time to the broom she was holding.

"I heard you the first time! Geez!" Hime sighed, as she and Yano walked down the hall. "There's probably no more crepes left. We'll have to try get away earlier together next time. And I was looking forward to it, too! I got my allowance and everything!"

"I could... give you a reward..." Yano said with a shy smile. She stole a glance at Hime.

"Reward? Sure, why not?" Hime said casually. "I'm not going to say no."

Yano, without losing a beat, wrapped her arms around Hime, and gave her a loving embrace. The other girl cried out in surprise, making awkward noises as she swung her bucket away from Yano. "Yano! Careful! This still has water in it-"

"Thank you, Hime."

Yano's words were soft, and if she didn't say it next to Hime's ears, no one would have heard it. Hime let out a breath, taking her reward with gratitude.

"Next time, if you need help, just ask me. Okay?"

"Okay..." Yano hugged Hime tighter, letting go of her broom. It clattered on the floor loudly, but it was only the two girls who heard it.

#わたゆり #私の百合はお仕事です!#yuri is my job #watayuri

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luxmaeastra · 1 year

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//THEYRE HEREEE MAEEEE!!//

Rhysand grinned and fed Tisiphone another sweet. She flushed and tried to bat Rhysand's hand away.

"Rhysand -"

"Let me feed you. You look cute eating from my fingers."

She looked to Lumas sitting across from them reading. She shook her head and tried to glare at him.

"Your not being proper. What if -"

"Let my grandfather know how I treat you Tisiphone. I'm sure he approves."

Tisiphone groaned and hid her face in a pillow.

"I hate you."

Rhysand popped a sweet in his mouth. Lumas snorted glancing at them.

"Ah, young love. You should be careful Rhysand. Tisiphone could embarrass you far worse."

"She could try. I think I'd like any attention she'd give me."

Lumas grinned and went back to his book. He'd watched Tisiphone grow up. He'd tutored her in matters of state and diplomacy.

It was nice to see her flourish.

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Viren sat on the windowsill watching the younger children dig through Lumas's things. Honestly he thought the male would have far more things after 50,000 years.

"Mama! Mama look I found you!!"

Ruadora held up the portrait inked in loving detail. Viren frowned and looked at it over.

"it isn't you. I mean it is but it's - you don't have that mark on your chin or under your eyebrow. Whoever made this portrait did a terrible job of rendering you darling."

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The Hive had collapsed, Lumas pushed through. The orders were clear, live no adult alive, take the children.

He moved through the chambers finding the royal chambers. He stilled looking to the sole male left there. Kertayan lifted his head and opened his arms the heads of his parents falling to the ground.

"You'll find nothing in the Nursery Monster."

Lumas barely glanced at heads keeping his eyes on his eyes. Black eyes rimmed in gold.

"Your daughter's mate will have the eyes the color of the nightsky, ringed with the sun. They'll shine in the darkness. A new dawn, a new day will begin when you find them."

He had dreaded and prayed for this moment. He lowered his sword.

"I need you trust me. I am going to get you out of here."

Kertayan snorted, barely able to focus over the silence in his head.

"Why would you do such a thing Monster?"

"Because my daughter deserves a chance to be happy."

A treasure trove of memories, of moments from her past that she had forgotten. Of tales her father had shared with her and her siblings. Sharing these moments with her children made her smile, to allow them to see the world their mother was born into

Of course, there were still some secrets kept from her. Sarai blinked as she took the portrait from Ruadora, the likeness in the portrait made her double take as she racked through her mind for answers of who this was.

"I don't think this is me, this is much older than I am," she admitted. "Hellas use to talk of someone, he would slip and say I was like her, but the older I got the less they spoke about her...Papa would know, Rua you should go and find your Grandpapa and ask him who this is."

Though something told her she knew, something told her that she already knew the name - Kertayan had slipped once all those years ago. When they had been growing close, a name she couldn't quiet shake.

#Muse | Sarai

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imagines-hoarder · 3 years

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House Warming - Bucky Barnes

Summary: Hopping through some standout moments in making Bucky's apartment a place worth coming home to. (This definitely could have been a headcanon but I refuse to do headcanons at this time.)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 2.6 k

Warnings: fluff with a lil angst

A/N: I have finished all the assignments left for my degree and decided to sit down and write today. This is probably trash but idc because it has been written and therefore I may as well release it. It's been a while since I've written and years since I've truly tried dipping my foot into a different fandom, but I figured I'd give it ago. Please don't forget to leave comments, I love interacting with y'all. Thank you @bwbatta for the dividers! xoxox

Masterlist

It all started with a damn candle. A ‘sandalwood & vanilla orchid’ candle tucked away in a reused cyan jar.

“I found it at the art market down the street last weekend,” you said as you placed it in the corner of the living room window. “You know we have to support local business.”

“And I shouldn’t assume this is your way of telling me my place smells, right?” Bucky quipped from the kitchen island, a cup of coffee in his hand and a lazy smile on his face. He’d just gotten back from a 12-day mission with Sam, and the last thing he had on his to-do list was to buy candles.

The smile grew firmer as you put yourself into his arms. “Complete opposite, actually. I bought it cause I thought it smelled just like you.” You hid your face within his chest, and he thanked the stars that you couldn’t see the warmth rising in his cheeks. His barren apartment felt a little bigger with a candle in the windowsill.

From there it became decorative pillows… and a couch to hold them. The small living room had quickly become a mess by the time you both had brought it up to his fourth-floor apartment, furniture wrap and packing peanuts strewn everywhere.

“I still don’t know why you needed to buy a sofa this big,” Bucky grumbled as he leaned over the back of the beige three-seater, looking down at your splayed out across its cushions.

“Don’t get me wrong, babe. I love the transient bachelor look you’ve got going on here, but you need more furniture than an armchair,” you mumbled between heavy breaths as you tried to regain control from maneuvering the couch into the apartment.

“And the pillows?” A laugh fell from your lips as you watched him look at the indigo cushions with a remarkable amount of disdain. Who buys pillows made just to look nice on a couch?

“They add character.”

“I didn’t think character was an area we were lacking in. Transient bachelor, remember?” He walked around the couch and shifted you over so he could lay beside you. You instinctively curled into him as you both closed your eyes. For a second the place felt like home. “I also don't know how you plan for us both to fit on this couch every day along with the pillows.”

“Don’t worry about it,” You looked up from his chest with a mischievous glint that made his heart skip. “It’s a pullout bed too. I’m sure it’ll be firm enough even for you.”

The home improvements didn’t stop there, but Bucky refused to admit how much he enjoyed them.

He liked having a place and person to come home to. After you had bought neutral bedding for his room, you’d spent an evening putting together ‘his and hers’ trestle bookcases for either side of the bed. He’d try to keep up his crabbish demeanor as you argued that ‘you needed a place to set your books for when you slept over,’ and a side table could no longer contain the small collection you had spilling over. Even still, he couldn’t find it in himself to banter much about the minor changes you made to make the place feel lived in.

And God, did he love living with you around. Between missions, his continued therapy, and trying to find his place in a world that had tripled in opportunity since his youth, he knew that he never had to question who he was and where he fit in when he walked through that door. You still occasionally slept at your own apartment when he was away, but he could always count on you being asleep in his bed by the time he came home.

One toothbrush in a glass became two, and from there, hand creams, face masks, and cotton pads cluttered the bathroom counter, packed away in their clear containers. You had made sure to keep lavender bath salts on hand for the late-night baths you took together when he woke up in a panic, unable to close his eyes again for fear of falling back into a nightmare.

It took time and working through plenty of hesitation before Bucky could progress from sleeping on the pull-out sofa to the bed, but ever since, you found your nights attended by restlessness whenever you weren’t wrapped in his arms.

Once your lease was up and you had a lengthy conversation about your inability to rest without him, you quickly filled the apartment with brown boxes. Bucky had been no less than astounded by how much you fit into them. From then on, no nook or cranny was without a vase or shelf.

“How many mugs does one house need,” Bucky asked skeptically while he continued to carefully pull them from their paper wrappings.

“Oh, come on! They’re fun!” You exclaimed, wrapping an arm around his waist as you took the Charlie Brown mug from his metal palm. “Plus, we go through enough coffee around here to justify some extra mugs.”

After you put the mug into the lowest shelf of the cabinet, you busied yourself with filing away the spices one cabinet over. No matter how much he tried, Bucky couldn’t pull his eyes away from you, lost in your own world as you chipped away at unpacking your belongings, making yours his, and vice versa. The domesticity in the little things you did was something he could get used to, and he wanted to return the feeling of normalcy as much as he could. He was far from the average boyfriend, but you remind him that could be a good thing. You never wanted to be average, but in these small moments, as you both did what normal couples do, he felt that he could create a new normal with you.

“So your Christmas gift came in already, and it’s too big to hide.” Your awkward tone carried over the phone as he exited a station ten minutes away from the apartment. Even though his neck ached and the cold nipped at the top of his ears, he couldn’t stop himself from releasing a breathy laugh.

“I thought you said you were good at this gift-giving thing, doll,” he teased you as he maneuvered his way to your shared apartment.

“Oh, don’t you fret, baby. I am the best gift-giver in all of New York City. I just slightly miscalculated how big this thing was and have realized it won’t fit into our closet.”

He tsked with a smirk on his face. “If you say so.”

“Hey, you gave me my Christmas gift a week ago.”

“Yeah, that’s because I didn’t know if I’d be back before Christmas.”

“Well, you will be, and I’m glad you are,” your voice softened lovingly as he pulled out his keys to the front of the building.

Bucky had gotten used to your love, but he’d vow to never take it for granted. All the pain he’d endured had somehow led him to you, the person who didn’t see his broken pieces as a burden or a project but as a potential to be whatever he desired.

When he hung up the call and unlocked the apartment, his brows furrowed into one; the apartment was pitch black. It was only when he heard your soft footstep walking towards the entrance that his face relaxed.

Before he could even kiss you, you had your palms firmly placed over his eyes. “No peeking; your gift is in the living room.”

The uncertainty in what you could have got him made his stomach clench. “Is it an animal?”

You slowly dragged him through the front hallway, making sure to avoid crashing into the entryway storage table. “I’m sorry to say it’s not alive.”

“Is it a nice welcome-home spread with candles, fruit, and the pullout bed all set up?”

He could feel your eyes roll to completion. “Easy there, sergeant. That’s for later.” You pulled him down to sit on the couch, and he kept his eyes closed as you pulled your palms away, moving to turn on a lamp. “Okay, Buck. open up.”

When he opened his eyes, it took him a moment to understand what he was seeing nestled against the wall; when he did recognize it, he could only form two words “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit indeed.”

He was quick to stand up and cross the room, eager to get a good look at the walnut centerpiece. “Does it work?”

You scoffed as you moved to kiss his cheek. “What kind of girlfriend would get her ancient boyfriend a broken phonograph console?”

He didn’t even attempt to answer as he bent down to wrap his arms around you, his lips eager to find yours. “A fucking Magnavox radio and phonograph,” he mumbled against your lips.

“A working Magnavox radio and phonograph, you mean.” When you pulled away and saw that his face held a glow reserved only for special occasions, you knew you had made the right choice. “I’ve got some records wrapped up if you want to open those now too.”

You yelped in surprise as he picked you up and made his way towards your bedroom. “I’ve got something else I’d like to unwrap first.”

Bucky Barnes had grown up in a period when the average family could seldom afford nice things or much of anything at all. The Great Depression has resulted in the slogan ‘Make it do or Do without,” being ingrained into what memories he still had, and 'doing without' had become commonplace for the Barnes household.

That’s why every gadget and gizmo you added to your household left him in awe. For much of his life, including the decades he spent as a weapon for Hydra, he hadn’t been allowed to call anything his own; he was still getting used to living so plentifully, both in love and in life. But now, he could barely move and he thought it had all been taken away from him.

The attack was supposed to have been contained, at least three miles away from the apartment. Anything less, and he would have made you visit your family upstate instead of just suggesting it. By the time Sam had told him that there’d been some confirmed damage within a block of the apartment, Bucky was already on his way home. He couldn’t think of anything but the worse: you trapped in a collapsing apartment building or pulling up to find no building there at all.

He felt his lungs fill with air again as he pulled up to your building, completely intact regardless of the severe damage less than a five-minute walk away. It felt like both seconds and hours between when he parked his outside and unlocked the front door.

“He doesn’t have his phone on him, mom. How am I supposed to…” you trailed off from your call as he walked into the living room, turning your head away from the Breaking News report you’d been glued to for the last hour. “Wait, I’ll call you back. Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll call you back.” Your eyes never left his as he walked over to you, hanging up the phone with worry in your eyes. “Buck, are you oka-”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he pulled you off of the couch and into his arms. His grip was less reserved than he usually kept, but he made sure not to hurt you, eager to keep you in his arms, where he knew you were safe. A single tear fell from the corner of his eyes as he realized the real possibility that he could have lost you if you lived even 5 minutes closer to the attack. You stayed like that for a while, gathered tightly in his arms as you both settled onto the floor You didn’t push him to verbalize his fear; you already understood it. And it took this occurrence for him to realize he never wanted to experience this feeling again.

Bucky was quiet for the rest of the evening, and while it worried you, his fear had been evident enough not to require questioning. The city-wide cleanup had lasted all hours of the night; for the first time in all the years you had lived in the city, the sounds of the whirring of vehicles clearing debris off the street had been too close to ignore. The sun was rising before a single word was said between you and Bucky, tangled together on the sofa as the first ray of light made itself known.

“You’ve spent so much time piecing this place together, doll.” His voice was raspy. You know he hates when you see him cry, but his pain was always evident in his voice. “And it could have been all wiped away in seconds.” You let a heavy silence settle between you as you traced a pattern into his shoulder. He couldn’t bear to say it, but you knew what he meant: You could have been gone within seconds. “I just… I don’t ever want to feel like this again.”

You’d both gone through so much to make your relationship work. Nearly normal was as close as you would ever attain to being an average couple. The distance, the days without contact, and the ever-present fear that anything could pull you away from one another was something that had taken time to work through.

You looked around the living room and saw the place you had built together. There were photos and books scattered on any flat surface, a leftover mug half-filled with cold tea, and a record left out on the phonograph. The apartment looked like what love felt like; a messy combination of everything you and Bucky. But this apartment could not contain everything that ‘home’ was; only Bucky could do that.

The words fell from your mouth before you could restrain them. “Maybe we should move.”

Your eyes found each other, and you both sat in silence, though it felt lighter, invigorated with the new proposition.

Before he even responded, you could see tension dissolve from his shoulders. “Where do you want to move?”

You hadn’t thought that far ahead, only being able to provide him with a shrug. “I don’t know… maybe upstate, maybe somewhere else.”

“Your mom would like you being Upstate.”

“My mom would love us living next door too, but I don’t see that in the cards anytime soon.” You got a ghost of a smile for that.

“We could probably afford a house if we moved out there,” he said as he moved his lips to meet your forehead.

“Buck, I’d move anywhere with you. As long as we have each other, then we have all we need to rebuild this place.”

He pressed soft kisses to the crown of your head, and you swore you felt his chest flutter. “Tomorrow, I’m gonna look for some places, bigger ones too.” He tilted your head up to find your eyes, and you were sure that all of the love you carried for each other was incredibly visible at that moment. “You have made this apartment something worth coming home to. Now let me give you a house to make a home.” Your skin tingled with adoration as you pulled him as close as possible, burying your face into his neck.

You didn’t want to let go. You wanted to lay in this room, in this bed, and in this moment until the end of time, but you knew that something bigger and better was on the horizon for you and Bucky.

“All I heard is that you’re buying me a house.” His laugh was music to your ears.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff

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aurumacadicus · 3 years

Note

First of all I loooove your work and I can't get enough of it that I go back and read them again and again 💙

Tony/Bucky

The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog

Be as crazy as you want with this :)

💝

Thank you! Crazy as I want huh 🤔

The Quick Brown Fox Jumps Over the Lazy Dog

Professor Barnes was lounging in the courtyard again.

Tony huffed into his folded arms, scowling. "He's hogging the courtyard."

"He really isn't," Rhodey replied, not looking up from grading a frankly abysmal transmutation glyph.

"He is," Tony mumbled petulantly. "Him and his stupid dog."

"Stop calling his wolf familiar a dog," Rhodey said sternly, still not looking up at him. "And it's not stupid. I'm pretty sure that wolf could do a better transmutation glyph than these students with its eyes closed. What the fuck."

Tony scoffed, glaring down at Barnes and his wolf familiar. He knew the moment he tried to go outside, his fox would start harassing it, and then Barnes would yell at him, and the rest of the faculty would talk about him and his annoying fox familiar, as if Professor Romanova did not have the same exact kind. He didn't know why Barnes and his familiar thought they were so special, anyway--Tony's fox was an indiscriminate botherer, as indicated by it harassing not only other professors' familiars, but by going directly for the headmaster's lion as well. He was pretty sure that Fury thought it was hilarious, though. Tony's fox was the size of his lion's paw and not even a quarter as strong, after all.

"Put a leash on your fox then? Tony, I'm trying not to get absolutely enraged by my grading, and I can't do that when you're sulking. Go outside or shut up," Rhodey groused.

Tony scoffed again, somehow even more sourly than before. "The last time I put a leash on it, it chewed through it and hid under Steve's swan."

"Oh yeah," Rhodey said, surprised, and then laughed. Tony had tried to grab his fox for an hour while Steve watched and did nothing. They were all pretty sure the only reason Steve's swan finally moved was because it was hungry.

"Asshole," Tony muttered. He considered going to the cafeteria instead. Maybe his fox was hungry.

Then a brown blur was bolting out the window. It took a moment for Tony to realize what it was, but when he realized it was his fox, he couldn't help but scream, "FERROUS!" because even though it was a familiar, it didn't mean it couldn't get hurt, especially jumping out the third story window. Tony moved to lunge out after it, but Rhodey's familiar was faster, grabbing his shirt in its jaws and holding him fast until Rhodey could come over and stop him himself.

There was a white blur on the ground, and it was speeding toward where Tony's familiar was plummeting to. Tony's familiar slammed into it, and they both when rolling across the ground.

"Bruma!" Barnes called out frantically, running over to them.

Barnes' wolf.

Tony clutched the windowsill with white knuckles, no longer straining to get outside. Barnes's wolf was already on its feet again, sniffing at Tony's fox. It hadn't moved since they'd stopped rolling across the ground. Barnes knelt down beside it and checked it over, and it let out a high-pitched noise of distress.

"Tony! Cut it out! You're not going to help it by jumping out the window," Rhodey barked, clutching onto Tony's shoulders, and his grizzly familiar curled its big paws around both of them.

Barnes jerked his head up toward the window. "I'm taking it to the infirmary. We'll meet you there."

"NOT OUT THE FUCKING WINDOW," Rhodey roared when Tony tried to climb out again, and his familiar dragged them away from it and nearly flung them at the door.

.-.

It was faking. Ferrous was fucking faking. He'd taught the fox how to limp like that himself when he was eight, so that he could get out of going to class. But Tony wasn't going to tell anyone that, because Barnes (Bucky apparently!!!!!!) had worriedly asked if his familiar would be okay and insisted on checking up on them regularly just to make sure. Would tonight be okay? They'd bring something to eat. What did foxes eat?

"You did this on purpose you little shit," Tony said once they'd left, shaking his fox by the scruff angrily.

His fox simply grinned and licked its "injured" paw.

#aurumacadicus answers #ask meme #fic title meme #winteriron

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mockery-and-mistakes · 2 years

Text

Hero x villain Oc oneshot #2 (Detective Heathers and Redfeather)

Detective Heathers paced his room, fingering the anonymous note he’d found on the windowsill. It was addressed to him, but the signature only said ‘your secret admirer’. The detective recognized the handwriting of course, it was unmistakable. The twirls in the o’s, the line through the z- it was Redfeather’s handwriting. The shady thief was always up to something, either stealing jewels or pestering the Detective. He wore a bright red coat and hat, yet still managed to sneak around unnoticed.

What he couldn’t wrap his mind around was the ‘secret admirer’ part. It would explain why Readfeather was always pestering him, but he couldn’t figure out why he’d even be interested. Heathers had tried to arrest him multiple times- so he was pretty sure Readfeather was just teasing him. But the letter seemed very sincere… he’d just have to see. The letter asked him to meet on top of the greenhouse innovation building, one of the highest buildings in the city.

He thought about it, and decided he might as well go. However, he grabbed a pocketknife and hid it in his coat. Today was a Tuesday, and even if Redfeather was being sincere there were other villains and Thieves that prefer the weekday. He put the letter in another pocket, and walked out of the building, heading towards the specified building. The area on top of the building was a public space, a park built on the rooftop dedicated to the welfare of the city. He walked inside the elevator, and waited for the door to open at the top.

When he got to the top and exited the elevator, he walked around and found Redfeather sitting on a bench.

“Hello, Detective Heathers.” The Thief smiled, patting the space next to him on the bench.

“You sent me a letter?” Heathers asked for affirmation.

“Haha, I knew you’d figure out it was me.” Redfeather chuckled.

“It wasn’t hard. Your handwriting is unmistakable.” Heathers sat down next to him.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, contemplating what to say to each other.

“So…” Heathers said, “why did you want me to meet you here?”

Redfeather didn’t respond.

“Are you just as clueless as I am?” The detective asked.

“No… I just- I’m trying to figure out how to explain this.” He sighed. “I wanted you to be out of harm’s way. The… people you’ve been trying to identify have you on their hit list. They know you’re onto them, and I happened to have overheard them talking about ‘taking you out of the equation’.” He said. “I was… worried.”

“So you invited me here to thwart their murder attempt?” Heathers said. “How thoughtful of you.” He teased.

Redfeather pouted. “It’s not just that, but…” he trailed off.

Heathers was surprised by the fact he didn’t have his usual poker face on. The thief had an almost unreadable expression, a mix of concern and fear. The detective touched Redfeather’s shoulder, and he looked at Heathers. His green eyes on the verge of tears.

“Are you alright?” Heathers asked, concern showing on his face.

“Yeah… I just…” Redfeather paused, taking a deep breath. “I think I like you.” He whispered.

Heathers sighed, and patted his shoulder. “I don’t know if I can return the feeling just yet… but, let it sit there, see what it turns into.” The detective reassured. “And… thank you for telling me. I definitely wouldn’t have been prepared if… if they came today.”

Redfeather smiled. It was a small smile, but a genuine one. He wrapped his arm over detective Heathers’ shoulder and hugged him. Heathers was surprised, but eventually leaned into it, hugging back.

“So… what do you want to do to pass the time?” The detective asked.

“I don’t know… I guess we could go get some coffees or something? I think some drive thru’s are still open.” Redfeather said. “I uh, my name’s Ginger, by the way…”

“Nice to officially meet you, Ginger, my name’s Codey. Codey Heathers.” He replied, smiling. “Coffee sounds great.”

Masterlist

#hero x villain #hero #hero x villain fandom #villain #short story #story snippet #detective #thief #detective x thief #thief x detective #villain x hero

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live-the-fangirl-life · 3 years

Text

Rainy Day Rescuer

Feyre Archeron x Rhysand - OneShot

Feyre gets locked out in the rain and fears she'll have to tough out the storm. That is, until a kind stranger opens his window.

Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language

2130 words

*******

Feyre’s favorite thing about her apartment building wasn't the location or the free parking—although she did love that—it was the rooftop.

She’d lived in the building almost a month before realizing she could access the roof. The padlock on the door was apparently for appearances only, and it easily came off when she pulled on it. She figured out how to rest it back on the door so that when she was out on the roof the door still looked locked to anyone who didn't know better.

So far, she hadn't run into any of her neighbors trying to share the spot, but she knew someone else used it. Normally, she came up here to paint or to think and look at the stars. The view from the roof was lovely; she could see the city center and all the lit-up buildings, and the Sidra river that flowed through it.

The first time she set up her easel, one of her paintbrushes rolled away, and when she tracked it down behind an old broken crate she found a book had been carefully tucked away behind it.

Feyre couldn't help it when she picked up the book to get a better look at it. She glanced around quickly before chiding herself, knowing that no one else was out there with her. She recognized it as some sort of mythology retelling. Feyre flipped through it, trying to find some name or any indication of who it belonged to. All she found was an old receipt from a clothing store being used as a bookmark.

Spotting her runaway paintbrush, she grabbed it and put the book back where she found it.

That wasn't the last time she saw that book, and it certainly wasn't the last time she lost one of her paintbrushes.

In the next few weeks, every time Feyre went out to the roof she looked for the book.

It was always in that same place, hidden away so it wouldn't be noticed. But every time she opened the book the bookmark was moved a little further along.

She also started noticing annotations written in the margins. Feyre tried to imagine what this person must be like. It was odd, but kind of fascinating to follow along with this person’s progress.

She tried to focus on the fascinating part, and not the part that made her feel a bit like a creep for peeping into this person’s thoughts.

Except, when she made her routine book check that night, it was gone.

Feyre tried not to feel too disappointed. Why was she so invested in another person’s book? But it had become a constant that she looked forward to, and now it was gone. She could only hope they would start another one.

She laid out a thin blanket and sat down to look at the stars.

She must have dozed off at some point because she was woken up by raindrops hitting her face. It wasn't heavy yet, but she could tell it was going to start soon.

Ignoring the drizzle, she glanced at her phone. Feyre groaned and sat up, rubbing her face.

“Ugh, okay Fey, let’s call it a night.” She mumbled to herself, sleepy and moving slowly. She packed the blanket in her large tote bag and went to go back inside. Pulling on the door, she stumbled back a step. She was too tired, her grip was already slipping.

Feyre adjusted the bag on her shoulder and pulled the door again.

It didn't move.

She gripped the handle with both hands and pulled, hard.

Nothing happened.

“No, no, no, no, no…”

Feyre was wide awake now. This couldn't be happening. Shit.

She threw her bag down and used all her strength to open the door she ultimately knew wouldn't budge.

Breathing heavily from the exertion, she stepped back from the door.

“Shit.”

The rain was beginning to pick up.

“Really?!”

Lunging for her bag, Feyre dug around until she felt her phone. Gripping it, she unlocked it and was about to find someone to call for help...but she had no service.

How could she not have any service? Oh, gods, she was going to be stuck out on the roof, in the rain, until someone decided to come out there. It could be who-knows-how-long until that happened.

Spinning around, Feyre caught sight of her salvation.

“The fire escape!” Beaming, she grabbed her bag and ran over to it. “You beautiful, fantastic fire escape, help me out.”

Feyre managed to climb down the four stories of stairs and ladders without slipping on the slick metal. Gods, wouldn't that be a sight? She’d slip and come tumbling down the rest of the way, providing free entertainment to whoever walked past the building’s back alley.

When she finally made it to the lowest landing she tried to lower the final ladder that would bring her to the ground.

Only, it wouldn't move.

“Come on,” she muttered, still trying to force it down, “Don’t do this to me. I’m so close!” Feyre looked down to see the drop. Cringing, she admitted it was farther than she trusted herself to jump without breaking something—most likely her.

Thunder boomed and lightning flashed across the sky. Feyre pressed herself against the building as the rain finally poured down.

“Seriously?!” She shouted up into the apparent waterfall above her head.

A knock from behind her startled her enough that she jumped around and let out a loud shriek.

“Um, are you okay?”

A voice came from a window set into the wall that she hadn't noticed before with a man’s face pressed up against it. Through the rain streaming down the glass, she couldn't tell if he looked more concerned or wary at her appearance.

It took her a second to respond.

“No.” She tried to shake the wet hair out of her face. “I’m not.”

“Are you trying to go up or down?”

Ah. He was probably worried she was just some random person who decided to hop up onto his balcony landing.

“Down.” She said, trying not to think of how bizarre it must be for him to look out and see a woman stuck outside his window, sopping wet.

This really wasn't how she wanted to make first impressions with her neighbors.

“I got locked out on the roof and tried to get down the fire escape, but,” she gestured to herself and the now downpouring rain that was making this conversation difficult, “it didn't really work.”

She hoped he would offer before she had to ask the insane request.

Thankfully he did.

His eyebrows shot up and he seemed to finally notice how bad the rain was. Hastily opening the window, he gestured for her to come in.

“Come in, it looks awful out there.”

Before she could think better of accepting the stranger's invitation to literally climb into their apartment, she picked up her soaking bag from the grate at her feet and crawled over the windowsill, quickly closing the window behind her to block the storm.

Maneuvering to a standing position, Feyre took a moment to take a breath and thank whoever was listening for her unexpected savior.

She turned to face him. He was tall, she would have to crane her neck up if stood much closer. And he had vibrant violet eyes that the artist in her wanted to study.

“Hang on a second.” He left her standing in his living room. Feyre looked around at the sofa and tv that took up most of the space, the bookshelf propped against one wall, and pictures of friends on the wall.

The man came back in with a towel in hand.

“Here, try this.” He handed it to her politely.

“Thanks.” She quickly wrapped it around herself, trying to dry off and stop shivering.

“No problem.” He looked like he was going to ask her something when something on the bookshelf caught her eye.

“It was your book?” She gasped, pulling the familiar volume from the shelf. Feyre whirled around to face the dark-haired man who was looking at her warily. “You’re the one who’s been using the roof!”

He stepped closer to her and gently took the book from her hands, casually flipping through it. Flicking his eyes up at her, he asked, “How did you know about my book?”

Feyre could feel her cheeks heating and she could've sworn a smirk made its way across his face.

“I, uh, found it one day.”

“You found it?” he asked skeptically. “I hid it behind some old box, how did you find it?”

At least he just looked curious, and mildly amused, and not disturbed at her snooping. Yeah, maybe it was tucked away, but anyone who tried for more than a minute could’ve found it, so she didn't feel as bad.

Drawing as much pride as she could muster when she was dripping water onto this man’s carpet, she huffed, “It was a crate, not a box.” He grinned and she went on, “and for your information, I dropped a paintbrush and it rolled over there. I found the book when I was chasing my brush. I don't actively seek out other people’s things to snoop.”

His grin widened as she explained and by the end, he was chuckling.

“And here I thought you just really wanted to get to know my reading tastes.”

She scoffed, but hid a grin, “Yeah, sure. I don't even know you.”

As she said it, she realized it was true.

Besides the fact that he lived in her building and was kind enough to let her in from the rain, she had no idea who this man was.

It seemed he remembered the same thing as he gave her a charming smile and held out his hand.

“You can call me Rhys.”

“Rhys?” She raised a brow. She’d never met anyone named Rhys before.

“My full name is Rhysand, but,” he paused to wink at her, “the people I like call me Rhys.”

Feyre rolled her eyes at his not-so-subtle flirting but met his hand with her own.

“Feyre. Just Feyre.” She held his gaze for a few more minutes before they both dropped their hands.

“Well, Just Feyre, I think I have something for you.”

Before she could respond, he vanished into the other room. He had something for her? What? Was this some other lame attempt at flirting?

She’d let him flirt if he wanted to, maybe she was a little interested to see what he’d try.

But he came back out to stand in front of her with one hand behind his back.

“Yes?” She tried to peek around him, but he angled his body away so she couldn't see what he was holding.

Leaning in close to her, Rhys said, “I believe that is yours.” With a flourish, he brought his hand in front of him.

“My paintbrush!” Feyre couldn't believe it. She looked back and forth between the brush and the man holding it, “I’ve been looking for this one. I lost it weeks ago! How do you have it?”

Rhys smiled broadly at her as she took it from his outstretched hand.

“I found it near the back corner one night, it must have just rolled away from you. It looked like it could blend right into the wall.”

Ceasing her inspection of the brush, shocked that she had found it—that Rhys had had it—she looked at him and beamed.

He blinked, almost dazedly, as he watched her smile.

“Thank you!”

Without thinking, she reached up and wrapped her arms around him in a quick hug. Rhys tensed, and at that moment Feyre remembered that she was still soaking wet from the rain. Wincing, she hastily pulled away before he had a chance to return her hug.

“Sorry. I got excited.” She glanced down to see the small puddle on the floor beneath her and cringed. “I should probably go.”

“Hm? Oh.” Rhys cleared his throat and nodded, “Right. You probably want to change into something dry.”

“Yeah.” They both stood there awkwardly staring at each other, not sure what to say next.

“Okay,” Feyre picked up her bag and took a step towards the door. “I’m just gonna...” She trailed off as she and Rhys pivoted around each other so that she was closer to the door.

He walked with her the last few steps, pausing when she opened the door and turned back to him.

“Thank you, Rhys. For the paintbrush, and for not making me stand outside like a drowned cat all night.”

His laugh made Feyre crack a smile.

“Anytime Feyre, darling.”

She smiled.

“Goodnight Rhys.”

He mirrored her smile.

“Goodnight Feyre.”

Maybe getting locked out wasn’t so bad, after all.

***

Taglist:

@allthebooksunderthemoon

@astra-ad-mare

@becarefuloflove

@bisexual-genderfluid-fan

@booklover41802

@charlizeed

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@whimsicallyreading

#feyre archeron #rhysand #rhys #rhys x feyre #feyre x rhysand #feysand #feysand fic #feysand au #fanfic #fanfiction #au #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #oneshot #feyre

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thedeathdeelers · 3 years

Note

juke + fairy lights

again, this was supposed to be shorter but like..you know. hope you enjoy tho 🥺

——

He knew she was miserable.

She had caught a cold a few days ago, and she was going through it. Her nose was clogged up, her throat so sore she barely had a voice, and whenever Luke watched her try to get up and out of bed, she would lose her balance, nearly toppling over. Thankfully he had been there every single time to catch her, steadying her before leading her back into bed.

But now, sitting on the beanbag in her bedroom watching her as she scowled up at her ceiling, he knew he had to do something. Anything. He didn’t like seeing her like this, understanding all too well what she was going through - he remembered how awful it felt being stuck indoors doing absolutely nothing for days on end while watching everyone around you go about their day. She was a kindred spirit - he knew exactly how she felt.

Luke sneaked a look at Julie again only to find her staring out her window, a slight frown taking over her features.

Over the last few weeks, before Julie had gotten sick and had gotten stuck indoors, they had started spending their nights lying down side by side on the roof terrace outside her window, watching the stars twinkling away against the dark inky expanse of the night sky. Luke had seen the way Julie watched the sky, a look of wonder in her eyes followed by a smile that transformed up her face, conveying the unadulterated happiness she felt surrounded by the miracle of nature.

But now she was stuck inside, hidden from the lights that brought her so much joy.

Turning his head towards the window, Luke peered up at the night sky littered with stars stretching out as far as the eyes could see. For a fleeting second he had thought of suggesting they sit by her window on the floor and watch the shimmering spectacle from there, but had thought better of it. He knew it wouldn’t be the same, and he definitely didn’t want to move her from her bed or risk make her more tired than she already was.

He racked his brain trying to think up of an alternative, of a way to make her day a little brighter, when he suddenly remembered a picture Julie had shown him of her and Flynn posing in Flynn’s bedroom a while ago. He remembered being completely focused on the Julie in the picture at the time in her cropped Double Trouble t-shirt, but now that he thought back to it, he vaguely remembered seeing a string of lights twinkling away behind the girls in the background.

Hm, maybe...

With a tentative idea forming in his mind, Luke shot up from his seat, bouncing over to where Julie was lying on her bed. He kneeled down beside her, coming face to face with a sorrowful looking Julie.

“Hey,” he whispered, his fingers grazing her cheeks.

“Hi,” she mouthed back, her voice still absent after days of coughing and a sore throat.

“I’m going to go check on something with the guys, but I’ll be right back, okay?”

He watched as the corner of her lips tugged down, a slight pout forming.

She nodded at him, even though he could tell she wasn’t happy about him leaving her.

“I swear I won’t be long, just need to do something real quick.”

She nodded again, her bottom lip jutting out a little more. He chuckled, dropping a kiss to her forehead before getting up and poofing out of her room. He knew if he had spent a second longer looking at her pout, he would have caved and stayed put.

But no - the idea in his head was now fully formed and he wanted to do this for her. He was getting excited just thinking about the small chance that he might be able to make her feel a little better. He had to at least try.

He poofed into Carlos’ room, happy to find the littlest Molina playing on his iPad - communicating with him this time ‘round would be easy.

He moved in closer, clicking the lock screen button 3 times, just as Reggie had instructed him to. As soon as the third click sounded, Carlos’ head whipped up in his direction.

“Reggie?” Carlos quickly swiped out of the game he was playing, and switched to the program Luke knew how to use.

Holding out his iPad in Luke’s general direction, Luke grabbed the fake fancy pen attached to Carlos’ iPad he was told to use, and started typing out his message.

Watching the screen as letters and words started to appear, Carlos corrected himself.

“Ah, hey boy band.”

It usually got on Luke’s nerves when Julie’s little brother still insisted on calling him that, but right now he had more important things to focus on.

He finished typing out his request, and waited. Not a minute later, Carlos reached for his phone and started dialling the number Luke needed.

“Hey Flynn...no everything’s fine. What? How could you say that...I always call just to say hi...no.... Okay fine yeah, boy band needs something. No, not Alex. He’s drumstick. Yeah. Hers.”

Hers?

“Yeah, she’s still pretty sick, I think. Hasn’t really left her room for a few days, but neither has he, according to Reggie.”

Luke could hear Flynn’s eye roll all the way from the other side of the line.

“Yup, pretty much. Uh yeah so he- uh, I think he’s asking if he can borrow your star lights? I don’t know he just said uh-” Carlos referred back to his iPad, rereading Luke’s request. “Yeah, that’s what he said. I don’t know Flynn. Fairy-” Carlos turned his head back towards Luke, and asked “Do you mean fairy lights?”

Luke wasn’t entirely sure what they were called, but he figured they were on the right path.

He typed out his quick reply onto the screen, and watched as Carlos relayed his message to Flynn.

“Okay, yup. Cool, I’ll let him know. Okay okay, yes. Ok bye Flynn!” Carlos quickly hung up even though Luke was pretty sure he could still hear Flynn talking on the phone.

“So boy band, Flynn said the lights will be ready in like 5 minutes. She’ll leave them on her windowsill. She said to just grab them and leave, but she’ll want them back once Julie’s feeling better. She’s assuming they’re for Julie so..”

Carlos shrugged, and went back to his game, losing any and all interest in the ghost still standing in his room.

Luke reached out and quickly ruffled Carlos’ hair, poofing out just in time to hear an indignant yelp escape Carlos as he attempted to swipe at the space Luke had just vacated.

He reappeared outside Flynn’s house, taking his time walking around the perimeter of her house, keeping an eye on each first floor window he saw, unsure of which one led to Flynn’s bedroom. On his third walk around the house, he spotted a bundle of cables with stars attached to them sitting on the outside ledge of one of the windows on the North facing side of the house.

Luke poofed up, balancing precariously on the much smaller rooftop terrace as he grabbed the lights, waving them in the air once he noticed Flynn watching from the other side of window pane.

“You better take good care of her, lover boy,” she said, pointing a finger at him. “And don’t break my lights!”

With one final wave of the lights in his hand, Luke poofed out of there, quietly landing back in Julie’s bedroom. He hid the lights behind his back as he checked on her, making sure she wasn’t looking at him.

Once he was assured that she was asleep, Luke started setting up.

He started by hanging the lights around the top of her bed frame, the higher up, the better. He strung them across her ceiling, making sure to hook up the end of the fairy lights onto the hanging rod of her curtains. He then proceeded by wrapping the rest of the lights down the sides of her bed posts, leaving a couple of the soon-to-be blinking lights to pool onto the foot of her bed.

Satisfied with his work, Luke switched off every single light in her bedroom, plugged in the fairy lights and settled himself next to her on the bed, leaning against the headboard as he watched her sleep, a peaceful expression on her face.

Now all he had to do was wait.

——

A few hours later, while Luke was working through a difficult bridge in his head, his eyes closed as he rested against the headboard, he felt Julie shifting next to him.

He opened his eyes and found that she had turned to face him, her stare fixed on him.

“Hey sleepyhead,” he whispered, a small smile appearing on his lips.

Julie’s lips twitched, her hand appearing from under the covers to wave at him.

“You feeling a little better?” His fingers reached out, pressing against her forehead to check for any signs of the fever that had finally gone down yesterday.

At her nod, his smile transformed itself into a grin.

“Good, ‘cause I’ve got a little surprise for you.”

He could already feel the ball of worry in his chest getting lighter at the way her eyes lit up at the mention of a surprise.

“Come on, close your eyes. I just need you to sit up a tiny bit, though.” At his words, her eyes slid shut, her arms coming out from under the covers to push herself up into a slight sitting position. Once there was a little bit more space behind her for Luke to fit, he took his spot, slipping in between her and her headboard. He placed his hands on her waist, pulling her back towards him as they both settled themselves into a comfortable position, his legs on either side of her.

Once they were set, she leaned back against his chest, her head nestled in the crook of his neck, her eyes still closed but her smile a little wider.

“You ready?” He whispered in her ear, his hands lightly squeezing her sides once.

She nodded.

“Alright. You can open your eyes, boss.”

At his words, Julie’s eyes fluttered open, immediately followed by a small gasp escaping her as she took in their surroundings. Her hands shot up to cover her mouth before they landed back down into the bed a few seconds later in search of his.

He shifted his hands from her sides, moving them to rest on her stomach. Her hands instantly followed suit as she covered his with her smaller, softer ones, her fingers gripping onto his.

He watched her as she took in the show, the glimmering lights above and all around them reflected in her eyes.

Luke nudged her temple with his nose before placing a kiss on the soft skin under her ear.

“I figured since we couldn’t go outside to watch the stars, I’d bring them to you,” he whispered.

Julie’s hands tightened their grip on his, her eyes not leaving the spectacle in front of her.

As he continued to watch her, her eyes flitting from one dancing light to the other, he noticed a lone tear making its way down her cheek.

“Jules? Jules! Are you okay? Is something wrong?” Why was she crying? Did he do something wrong? Was it because he had moved her? Wha-

But before he could start to fully panic, Julie simply shook her head, before turning to face him.

“It’s perfect,” came her quiet whisper. “Thank you, Luke.”

At her words, Luke let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding in. “Of course Julie, anything for you. You know that.”

She stared at him for a few more minutes, the look in her eyes morphing into something that had his stomach erupting into thousands of fluttering butterflies.

“I love you,” she mouthed, her lips tilting up at the corners.

Three simple words. Three simple life changing words.

Luke could do nothing but stare at her, his mouth hanging slightly open, as his brain tried to process what was happening. Sure he had been head over heels for her from the moment he laid eyes on her, the moment he heard her sing. But to have her here in his arms, actually saying these words to him - he felt like he had somehow crossed over, finally making it into Heaven.

In his momentary daze at her proclamation, he had barely noticed Julie shifting again in his embrace, just enough so that she could cup his cheek with her hand.

“Luke?” She whispered questioningly. The sensation of her thumb brushing against his cheekbone jerked him out of his stupor, his hand coming up to press hers closer to his face.

“I love you too.” His voice was low, quiet & soft, but still full of all the conviction he could muster. At his reply, her eyes crinkled up with the force of the smile that was taking over her face.

He loved her. He loved her. He loved her.

He brushed her hand against his face, moving his head just enough so that he could place a kiss on the palm of her hand. The smile on her face didn’t budge as she withdrew her hand, turning her head around so that she was facing the lights in front of them once again.

She settled herself back against his chest as Luke wrapped his arms tighter around her waist, bringing her closer to him, closer to her place in his heart.

FIN

#thank you for sending in a prompt 🥰♥️#jatp #juke #julie and the phantoms #otp: you’re music to me #my fics #jatp fics #follower celebration #prompt fics #uhhhh ya so. enjoy?#thedeathdeelers fics

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woogyu · 3 years

Text

16. “Are you seriously giving me the silent treatment?”

31. “You snuck into my room, at 4am…to cuddle?”

Drabble Prompts; fluff | angst | funny // Requests; OPEN

requested by; @bethe-flower

notes; thank you so much for requesting! I hope you enjoy! ready to risk it all for some soft fluffy wonu.

wc; ~943

It was extremely rare that you and Wonwoo argued, and you absolutely hated it the occasional time when it did happen. You weren’t even sure what started it this time. It could most likely be chalked up to personal stress that you were taking out on one another. You thought that living with your childhood best friend would be easy… but it introduced some roadblocks that the two of you weren’t used to navigating.

“All I’m asking is that you please not move my things without asking” he said, jaw tense as he held up a ruined piece of gaming equipment. Part of you felt bad that you were the reason something of his had gotten wrecked, but that hadn’t been your intention when you moved it off of the coffee table and onto the windowsill.

“If you didn’t leave you things lying around then I wouldn’t have to move them now would I” you snapped back, arms crossed as you stubbornly refused to give in. Objectively you knew you should apologize, but the hostility at which he had approached you about it rubbed you the wrong way. He sighed and ran a hand back through his hair, his jaw working as he thought about his next words.

“I knew I shouldn’t have moved in with you” he mumbled under his breath, causing your mouth to drop. It hurt… hearing that from him it really fucking hurt.

“If that’s how you feel I can always leave” you whispered, not trusting your voice enough to speak any louder. You quickly brushed past him and sped to your room, not stopping when you heard him call out for you.

You hid in your room for the rest of the day, not wanting another run in with Wonwoo. You figured if you could just make it until he went to bed… everything would be fine… right?

Around 10pm you slowly made your way into the kitchen, stomach protesting to the unintentional hunger strike you had taken. Walking into the kitchen you jumped when you saw him sitting down at the island reading over an article. He looked up when you walked in, surprise written on his features.

You set your jaw and ignored him, walking to the fridge to pull out a few items that didn’t need to be prepared so you could just go eat in your room.

“I’m sorry” he said gently, setting down his papers as he watched you move about the kitchen. “I went too far this morning; I didn’t mean what I said… you know that” he explained further.

You knew he didn’t mean it and yet you still wanted to punish him for saying it. Just because he didn’t mean it, doesn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. You remained silent, refusing to answer his apology. You also knew that if you opened your mouth you would end up saying something that you would regret later on.

“Are you seriously giving me the silent treatment?” he asked, his voice almost amused at your child-like response to the fight. You huffed, grabbing the food items in your arms and moving back towards your room.

You spent the night stubbornly eating cold pasta in your room, wishing that you could just go make up with your stupid best friend and put an end to all of this.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You heard the soft rumblings of thunder around 4am, the sound rousing you from sleep and causing all the hairs on your body to raise. Ever since you were little you absolutely hated the thunder and lightning. It was a fear that you carried into your adult years. When it started to grow louder you whimpered and quickly went to the one place you felt safe.

You slowly opened up Wonwoo’s door and padded over to his bed. You slid into his bed, hearing soft mumbles coming from him as he woke up.

“y/n? what’s wrong?” he asked, rubbing his eyes groggily as he looked at you. You bit down on your bottom lip, you had a choice to make here. You didn’t really want him to know you were still scared of thunder and lightning, it was such a childish fear for you to hold onto.

“I-I felt bad about earlier, and I wanted to reconcile with you by…” you desperately tried to think of a reason for being in his room at 4am. “B-by cuddling” you blurted, mentally hitting yourself for saying something so stupid. Just to prove your point, however, you threw your arms around him.

“You snuck into my room, at 4am…to cuddle?” he asked, obviously not convinced by your obvious lie. It was then that another crack of thunder sounded outside, the loudest one yet. It sent you scrambling into him, heart racing at the unexpected noise.

“Ah….” he said, rubbing your back soothingly, everything starting to make sense. “Gonna make fun of me for still being scared?” you grumbled, preparing yourself for the off-hand comments.

“You know I would never make fun of you for something like that” he whispered, pulling the blankets up so the two of you were underneath them. “Everyone is afraid of something y/n” he further explained, slowly petting your hair.

“I’ll always be here to protect you from the scary stuff” he said with a lopsided smile. He started to hum softly to drown out the intrusive noises, doing his best to distract you by talking about everything and nothing at all.

There were downsides to moving in with your childhood best friend… but there also some upsides.

#wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo fanfic #seventeen scenarios #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen drabble game #seventeen fluff #seventeen #svt #svt drabble game #svt imagines #svt scenarios #wonwoo drabble #seventeen drabble #seventeen request

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throwawayfish · 3 years

Text

𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: moving from new york city to the outerbanks was already difficult in itself. but having to deal with being hated by a blonde surfer who questioned your existence made it harder to keep a secret you cannot disclose. especially when his friends roped you into what they called a gold game

warnings: focuses on how you got to the outer banks, language, mild derogatory terms, mentions of death, adoption, accidents

a/n: my second series! hope you guys like this as much as the first one. let me know if you want to be added to my taglist.

the atrocious heat of the sun hit your substantially exposed body. as much as you didn’t want it to look too bare for people at the beach to have a free exhibit, the scorching july day made even your sheerest sundress too uncomfortable to wear.

you were unacquainted to the small island called the outerbanks. used to the chaotic hustle of new york city, it was as if life came to a sudden halt when you stepped out of the ferry to live a new life. a life where waking up early to avoid the morning frenzy on the subways and anticipating the city’s midnight madness was no longer your usual.

it did not take too long of living on the island that you mustered up knowledge about your new environment. how there are two sides of the island and two different groups. which meant it didn’t take long for you to realize that you were put in the kook category, just by the look of the houses in the area much like your own. but you hated it, the title and attention.

you closed your eyes, not minding the squeals and giggles of kids at the beach with their families. ignoring a few whistles you got and muttering of locals that you were sure were about you. as you blocked out the distractions, you laid under a palm tree seeking shade until the rays of light didn’t shine through the leaves anymore as the day progressed.

as the wind picked up, you headed back to figure eight, careful not to be followed by whoever. it has been a routine for you to do your laundry at the house as well as take a small amount of cash enough to suffice for a week or two. and as you finish what you need to do, lock all doors and go to where you felt safe and invisible, the cut.

life in new york city came naturally to you. growing up with adoptive parents made you thankful for them having to put up with you. it took years for you to open up when you were adopted, but when you did it was something you would even call magical. helena and marcus hawke made you feel loved you as their own, doing everything they can to make you have the best life to live, and for that you couldn’t be more happy. the house always smelling like freshly baked goods and breads. lively flowers littering the windowsills and the house well lit with the rolling stones playing no matter what the weather or season was.

it was a sudden shift in scenery. your brownstone that was once cozy became dull. one that could be a contender to houses used in horror films. you were closed off to people because of the handful of times you’ve had a foster home just for them to put you back in the system once they got tired of you, so you learned not to get comfortable.

you came home from school one gloomy, winter day. cheeks red and tight from the blizzard you barely just escaped. the house blue despite the candles and lamps doing everything they can to improve it. you heard thumping from upstairs, voices loud enough for you to hear them trying to keep it down. thinking that it was your parents who just got home from their three day business trip, up the rickety stairs you went. you were welcomed by your aunt in your dad’s old art room, the one turned into a boring office.

noticing the almost bare walls and a surprisingly clean desk, you knocked on the slightly opened door. two pairs of eyes were suddenly looking at you. cold ones, which only heightened your worries.

“what are you guys doing?!” you pointed at the wedding canvas that was taken down and leaning on the bookshelf. not meaning to raise your voice at them, you muttered a soft sorry and went back to scanning the room.

“y/n, you are coming to brooklyn with us.” vera, your aunt said dryly, making your head snap in her direction. austin, her husband didn’t bother looking at you and continued rummaging through the drawers and putting them in piles.

“austin, what are you doing? and what do you mean i’m going to brooklyn? where’s mom?!” tears were threatening to fall down your now warm cheeks though you didn’t have any idea why. but with the looks on their faces and actions, you could tell something was going on. mainly because the family you have been adopted into had too much pride to just accept you as their own blood, despite your parents loving you from the moment they saw you.

“helena and marcus got in a car accident yesterday. dead on arrival. now i don’t have much time, i have a busy schedule so will you please just pack. we’re leaving in a bit.”

you felt your heart breaking. it was like a huge punch in the face, the one that knocks you out and you forget what happened hours prior when you wake. and then you felt it, the feeling of being closed off because people who are important left once again, leaving you all alone.

“and you’re gonna tell me this when?! when they’re burried?! fuck!” austin strided towards you, vera not holding him back when he gripped your arm rather harshly.

“you should be thankful we’re even here, you ungrateful bitch! if it weren’t for the will i would be kicking you out into the streets so you can be a drug addict just like your real mom when she gave you up! now go pack!”

his words and behaviour were unexpected. of course you accepted the judgemental stares and coldness gave you every time there were gatherings or meetings your parents brought you to. you learned to accept that they will never treat you normally as part of the family, but you have never imagined it escalating to this. and with what he said, you further confirmed he was bad news.

you ran to your room, hurriedly gathering the things most important to you. including the shark tooth necklace your dad gave you when he gave you a tour of their lab. heading out the door, you turned back to grab the cassette he always played on the radio. you opened it to check if it was not damaged, and as you slid the tape out of the cardboard protector a pink paper your mom loved writing on fell on the floor.

to panic was your first instinct, especially with the footsteps approaching the room. so you hid the paper in your pocket together with your emotions just in time before your aunt barged through the door.

“i’m sorry for the way he acted, but it’s not like you didn’t deserve it. we’re leaving in ten minutes whether you like it or not. ten minutes.” she uttered and left, goosebumps travelling your body from her piercing eyes.

you immediately shut the door, doing your hardest to make the slightest sound. then you leaned against it and fished out for the letter. it was your mom’s handwriting, you haven’t started reading anything and just saw the usual cursive letters and just like that tears poured down your cheeks.

the letter contained information, of how to get into an island you had never heard of in your life. so you reached for the envelope said to be under your nightstand which contained fifty thousand dollars. and you were off, into the cold not caring for the protests of your aunt and uncle. smashing and throwing away your phone, with your duffel bag slung over your shoulder, you hollered for a cab, and to the airport you headed.

the letter contained fairly easy instructions, but it was difficult to ponder. the letter said to look for heyward and once you asked around as you stepped off the ferry, you were led to meet with a man with a welcoming aura, finishing up some groceries before ushering you onto another boat when you introduced yourself.

it was more or less half an hour when the dated boat parked on a dock of a huge estate not isolated but far enough from other mansions. the outside was surrounded with bright green grass. cobblestones in perfect placement lining the path to the front porch with large antique oakwood doors.

as you dropped your bag into the tiled floor, you heaved a deep sigh. looking at heyward as you forced a kind smile.

“thank you. my parents must really trust you if they told me to find you.” he nodded as if he bowed, looking around the bare living room before answering.

“you’re safe here, kid. and you’ll figure it out. you’re brave to go to a place you don’t know, especially from new york. it takes guts.” you raised the corners of your lips which he returned

the short stay you were in the house you noticed minor details that could be of great significance. no decorations or paintings on the walls, it was different back in the city as your dad loved art. no antiques suiting your mom’s taste, and no sign of anyone having lived there. the massive space only decorated with necessary furniture.

and with that, as heyward tapped your upper arm and turned around, you called out “is there somewhere i could stay that will not capture attention?”

you hated the feeling of asking him such question. after driving the boat to your house that are bright to the eyes of people, here you are asking for another place to stay. you felt like you were interrupting his tight schedule, but you felt worse thinking that you were bragging. he was occupied with his job when you arrived, working hard to make a living and you don’t even have to worry about paying for another house.

negative thoughts were wiped out of your mind when he let out a laugh, tapping his temple with his pointer finger “i knew you’re a hawke! smart kid. i know a place. but you stay here for a bit to explore. i’ll pick you up after a delivery i have to make.” you nodded, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders.

as he stepped out the door, he peeked one last time gaining back your attention “third room to the left upstairs, the small wine cooler is a safe, i’m sure you’ll know where to find the code.”

it was a peaceful drive that even you were surprised, used to having clouded thoughts that you cannot seem to get rid off. having the windows down definitely did you wrong as a loud honk of a horn from a rundown volkswagen startled you along with its bright headlights, making you swerve your jeep.

the probability of you crashing was high, being that you closed your eyes trying to control the vehicle. it just so happens that you are lucky enough to have pressed on the brakes faster before falling in a ditch.

heavy breaths escaped your now pale lips, your heart pounding twice the speed you were driving before the unfortunate incident.

“oh my god! are you okay?!” you heard a girls voice query in a loud tone as you tried to steady your breathing. you nodded quickly but she did not buy it, the shaking of your head made you panicked state apparent.

you looked up, three pairs of eyes glancing intently at you. “john b you stupid asshole!” she yelled once again as you observed all of their expressions. blue eyes catching your attention but breaking the contact as you tried to start the car once again only for it turn off.

“shit” it wasn’t unheard by the three teenagers as you turned the ignition for the hundredth time “we can give you a ride if you want.” the guy who the brunette lass called john b offered, you looked at him and back at the other for confirmation earning nods except from the blonde one.

“we’re not giving a kook a free ride.” he declared and your doe eyes widened by the statement not knowing how he can identify your so called title before relaxing as you watched scan your car.

“good to know that if i died i would’ve died right here because your bus is pogue exclusive.” you rebutted. he let out a laugh, the three others merely watching the exchange

“it’s a van, princess. not a bus.” his remark made you roll your eyes. you didn’t know if it was because of the reply itself or the nickname he gave you, nonetheless it made your stomach turn.

“don’t be a prick. come on, we’ll help you get your car back tomorrow.” the girl once again said. it was late at night, so as much as you wanted to decline, you had no choice but to agree. especially when her smile made you feel welcome despite the inhospitable approach of the blonde.

a shriek was let out by another boy when the sliding door was opened, the others let out a laugh and you couldn’t help to do so too by the sight of him trying to cover his lower area even with boxers.

“didn’t know we have a guest i would’ve prepared!” you giggled with the three, accepting his hand as he introduced himself as pope. the others soon doing the same except that one boy once again.

“do you have a problem with me?” you couldn’t help but ask out of annoyance. “i don’t need to explain myself to you, kook.” he answered under his breath and avoided your stare.

problems with any body on the island is one thing you wished to avoid, so at any given circumstance, and because you have the excuse for it, you played your last card.

“i’m a pogue, stupid.”

attention was on you, even john b who slowly stopped driving and looked back to ask you where you lived. making a u turn once you told him where your house was on the cut.

“are you new?” pope uttered starting a conversation. you shook your head, already having come up with a lie “lived here my whole life.” a scoff was let out and you looked at the blonde once again

“how come we haven’t seen you here before?” he asked, and you smirked “that’s because i’m a vampire, you just got lucky to spot me tonight.” the others laughed, making you comfortable to stand your ground against the blue eyed boy

“i still haven’t gotten a name you know.” all you got was a frown which turned to a smirk “that’s for me to know and y—” “it’s jj!” “kie!” you laughed at the altercation, secretly wishing to have a friendship like theirs as you watched them playfully slap and kick each other.

“a pogue with a brand new jeep, interesting.” he blurted out and drilled a hole into your head with his cerulean eyes “i’ll let you take it for a spin don’t worry.” he hastily shook his head, an irritated look on his face “i don’t want anything to do with you so fuck off will ya?”

as your eyes widened you let out a whistle and raised your hands in defeat. telling john b to let you out as your house is not far enough. for your own good and the blonde pogue’s sake.

you barely started your walk when you heard footsteps approach. turning around, you were ready to defend yourself from whoever would cause you harm, but were met by the boy who just made it clear he hated your presence.

“you don’t come up behind someone like that! i could’ve taken your eye out!” you wished to call the silence comfortable if it weren’t for the stares of the jj creeping into your arms and back. reciprocating the attention, you noticed he was staring just below your face. you were about to call him out when you glanced down your neck, where your shark tooth necklace carefully sat.

“why are you here—” “where’d you get that?” he asked sincerely, sending a tightening feeling on your throat. “found it laying somewhere. not that it’s your business. why are you here?” you lied and asked once again

“john b told me to tell you he’s picking you up tomorrow to get your car.” he stuttered, “okay cool.” you quickly muttered and turned around not wanting to further drag the interaction.

convincing yourself to relax, the blonde boy was bothered as he went back to the twinkie, letting out a laugh of dismay “she’s hiding something.” his friends furrowed their brows, ready to hear what he has to say

“she’s hiding something and i’m gonna find out what it is. even if it means being around her annoying ass.”

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saintchaser · 3 years

Text

remus' footsteps echoed on the stones of the stairs to the astronomy tower. frankly, he didn't know what exactly he was doing in the cold of a november night in the coldest spot of the castle. he said he wouldn't come, because it was cold outside and the full moon was near and he couldn't stand looking at the sky, but if sirius said they had something important to tell him, it means it really was important.

but it certainly couldn't be what remus would only dare to dream of, because sirius was just too good for him.

he stood in the doorway for a second, watching sirius. they were sitting on the edge of the window, their feet dangling off.

remus cleared his throat, and sirius' head turned to face him, his hair whipping his face. he rolled his eyes, slightly annoyed, but smiled to remus nonetheless.

"decided to come?" sirius asked. "thought you said you wouldn't."

"changed my mind." remus said simply. "i'd always do it for you."

sirius' cheeks reddened slightly and he hid his face with his hands. they looked at remus through their fingers.

"come sit next to me." sirius said, once their cheeks turned back to their usual color.

remus walked up to the window and sat on the windowsill, next to sirius, their hands almost touching. so close, yet so far away.

"so, what was it that you had to tell me?" remus cocked a brow, after a short silence.

sirius took in a deep breath.

"whatever i'm saying won't change anything between us, yeah?" he asked, cautiously.

"that's questionable." remus retorted. "you might as well tell me you killed someone or that you like me, and that would probably change something between us in a good or bad manner." he ended with a witty smile.

sirius looked at remus, then they seemed to be very interested in their shoes, a pair of worn combat boots that remus got them for their last birthday, a few weeks ago. they were alresdy worn when remus got them, because he knew that's how sirius liked them.

he knew that sirius never had coffee with sugar or milk. he also knew how many moles sirius had, or how many hours he slept during the night. sometimes, remus thought he knows a bit more than everyone else, besides james.

"well, actually, it's on of those things." sirius said, barely a whisper. "the thing is, i like you. i like you a lot, actually. i'm in love with every single part of you in a way that you couldn't imagine, in a way that's new to me and in a way that i will never feel about anyone else. i'm crazy about you, remus."

the air was heavy with all of the unsaid words, with all of what they knew about how they both felt and with something they've never felt before. it was strange, but calming, like stepping in your new home, someone else's arms.

"i love you too." remus offered sirius a little, genuine smile. "i think we could do it if we tried."

"we surely can." sirius beamed. "hug?"

remus nodded, and they sat in silence, hugging each other tightly, showing themselves that it wasn't just a dream.

and that hug meant a little bit more than everyone else, besides them, knew.

#have some happy stuff because i got back together with my ex!!#that i've liked since the start and askhahdgdh <333 #they get together and hide it and not really #james finds out and dhshdduej everyone is happy!! because ofc they are #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #mars writes

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yandere-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Title: Vantage Point.

Commissioned by the very patient, very lovely @yandere-vale.

Word Count: 5.1k.

Pairing: Yandere!Glimmer/Reader (She-Ra).

TW: Fem!Reader, Aged Up Characters, Imprisonment, Implied Kidnapping, Isolation, Emotional Abuse, Slight Infantalization, Mentions of Physical Abuse, Past Injury.

At least the view was nice, in Bright Moon.

You should know. You’d had plenty of time to take it in, by now, not that a single glance wouldn’t have been enough to convince any battle-weary refugee that the destination was worth the tiring journey. The jutting canyons, the darkened forests, the permanent twilight painted across skies so stunning, the bay surrounding Glimmer’s kingdom couldn’t rest until it was beautiful enough to reflect them – it was pretty, you could admit that, and it was nice to finally have enough time to take it all in. It was a small silver lining, running thin enough to border on the verge of complete nonexistence, but it was a silver lining all the same. You were allowed to appreciate it. You’d give yourself that. You liked being able to appreciate it.

You just wished you didn’t have to do so from such a distant vantage point.

It might’ve been a tower. You thought it was, at least, from what you could tell from your perch at its peak. Tall, looming, just as rounded and just as seamless as every other building on Bright Moon’s shores. There was no ladder, no staircase, no way down beyond finding the nearest ledge and hoping for the best, and if there was anything to discover beyond the confines of your bedroom, there certainly wasn’t a way to access it. You’d already tried, searched for hidden doors and passageways, tried every possible escape route Glimmer might’ve overlooked, spent a memorable week attempting to break through the solid stone floor, but it was fruitless, pointless, an effort you could only look back on with resent for your own naivety. There was no way for you to get out, not without risking your own life, in the process, and there wasn’t a way for any would-be savior to get in. You were trapped, isolated, cut off from everything you’d ever called your home. Cut off from everyone you’d ever called your friend.

Except her, obviously.

But you’d never made the mistake of calling Glimmer your friend.

You could hear her, your routine silence broken by slow footsteps, but you didn’t look, you didn’t bother to. You’d already been sitting there for hours, perched inside of a carved-out windowsill, admiring everything that you couldn’t have, not anymore, not after Glimmer decided you didn’t deserve it as much as she deserved you. No, you didn’t acknowledge her, you didn’t let yourself acknowledge her, but that never made a difference. She was already approaching you, already behind you, an arm soon wrapped around your torso and a chest slotted against your back, pulling you into something you might’ve called a hug, if she thought to let go. You bit back your rising complaints, swallowing the urge to shove her away and give her another reason to think of you as immature, irresponsible, incapable, but if she appreciated your self-restraint, she clearly didn’t think it was worth her praise.

Glimmer only sighed, shaking her head at your absentee reaction, more than content to act like she couldn’t imagine why imprisonment might lead to some lingering resentment. “Still busy sulking, sweetheart?”

You didn’t answer, not at first, keeping your eyes on the scenery below. You didn’t like it when she got so close, not after everything she’d done. You didn’t like that you had to let her get so closer, or risk spending another month in somewhere far less pleasant than a homey, familiar, inescapable tower. “I’m not sulking,” You mumbled, fighting not to curl into yourself. “You keep me here, imprisoned and alone, and you know I don’t like it. I don’t have to pretend I’m happy to see you.”

“No, but it might be nice if you tried.” There was a laugh, a squeeze, but she pulled away quickly, sliding into the space next to you and forcing you to shrink further into the nearest wall, forcing to you avoid her, if only because she refused to give you the space to reach out on your own. “You can’t act like I haven’t given you plenty of chances to make yourself happy,” She went on, her tone still light-hearted, vaguely amused. She wasn’t taking this seriously. You doubted she would, until you said something to upset her. “It’s not my fault that you refuse to accept my gifts without a fight.”

You didn’t have to ask what she meant. The evidence was still scattered around your bedroom, found in torn lace and ripped silk, crushed flowers and chipped gems, neglected toys and trinkets she'd offered, half-heartedly, attempting to fill she'd left in your life. On good days, you could ignore it, pretend they were meant for someone else, anyone but you. On most days, felt sick at the thought of indulging Glimmer's one-sided show of kindness.

“Presents won’t make this bearable. I don’t need distractions.” You let yourself exhale, leaning back, your posture just slack enough to make the idea of continuing this conversation tolerable. Something shot through the flesh below your shoulder blade, a single strike of agony before the feeling faded into a steady throb. A reminder of a wound that wasn’t quite healed, but one you’d already disregarded, nonetheless. “I need to go outside. I need you to let me go. I need you to stop acting like you’re doing this for my safety.” Glimmer flinched, her jaw locking into place, but you ignored the small pang of guilt that followed. Good. If she expected you to find a way to live with this, she could find a way to live with the discomfort. “I was doing fine before I met you, and I’d still be doing fine, without your help. It’s not fair to assume I’d—”

“Really?” Glimmer cut you off, any trace of her levity gone. “Are you sure you can’t come up with a single reason I might be hesitant to let you take care of yourself?”

Immediately, you fell quiet, turning away yet again. This time, Glimmer didn’t seem to mind your silence.

“Believe it or not, I’m not trying to make you miserable,” She said, not for the first time. Like you were supposed to believe it. Like she could expect you to believe it. “I just want to keep you safe. If you have to be unhappy for me to do that, then so be it.”

And, just like that, she was gone.

For a moment, you almost missed her.

You didn’t break her next gift.

You wanted to. The temptation was always there, you doubted you’d ever grow fond enough of Glimmer for it to completely go away, but you ignored it, brushed it off, pushed it just far enough down to pretend it didn’t exist at all. It helped that she’d given you a book, this time. Usually, her gifts were materialistic, unsubstantial, things that were better at making you look cute and harmless than helping you pass the time. She hadn’t left, yet. That helped too. You still had bruises from the last time you didn’t give her rage time to cool, and you weren’t eager to reopen old wounds.

Books could be used. Books could be read. Books were heavy, and they meant you could do something, if only sit passively and take in a story that wasn’t yours. That was more credit than Glimmer had ever given you before. Part of you worried it was more credit than she’d ever give you again.

That might’ve been why you asked. You wanted logic. If there was a method to her madness, there would be a way to predict what comes next, to try to guess if there was a reason she’d done this at all. You wanted there to be a reason. “Aren’t you afraid I’m going to use this?”

Glimmer didn’t look up from the letter in her hands, multiple pages of important political correspondence, you were sure. She’d taken your bed, when she first arrived, and you’d hid yourself away at the vanity on the other side of the room. A part of you hated it, how she dominated what was supposed to be your space so easily. Another part of you was just glad to have a reason to feel like you actually had a space you felt was yours, if only when someone else invaded it.

Her response came in the form of a hum, light and curious, then a question. “Use it?”

“You know,” You started, before you were entirely sure what you wanted to say. “To escape, or something. I might still find a way to.”

Glimmer laughed, and suddenly, you knew why she was such an unopposed ruler. By the time she actually spoke, you’d already begun to regret saying anything at all. “Planning to beat the walls in with a paperback? I think I’d have to hand over my crown, too, if you managed that.”

Your face burnt, and your grip around the novel tightened. If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve reconsidered your decision to keep this one. “I could always attack you.”

“Do you want me to take it away?”

“Please don’t.” You spoke quickly, as softly as you could, but your panic was still audible, the rush of anxiety you wished you didn’t have to give weight, after so many months of letting your instincts lay dormant. “I just… I guess I just want to know why you didn’t do this earlier. You’ve always given me clothes and that kind of stuff, and this seems more—”

Glimmer didn’t let you finish. She rarely did, when you spoke for any longer than she cared to let you. “C’mere, angel. You shouldn’t be so far away.”

It wasn’t a demand, not really, not when she said it so casually. It wasn’t, but you treated it like one, pushing yourself to your feet and reluctantly approaching her, your eyes never leaving the ground. In your defense, you didn’t fall into her arms, choosing to sit on the edge of your bed and retain a fraction of your dignity, but your aversion didn’t matter. All it took was a strong arm wrapped around your waist, a light tug, and you were tucked into her side, regardless, your head resting on her chest and your legs folded underneath you. For once, you were glad she kept you so isolated. You wouldn’t have been able to live with the embarrassment, if anyone else was around to see you like this.

“Everything I do, I do because it’s what I think is best for you.” There was a pause, like this meant anything. Like she thought she was comforting you. Like this could be comforting, to anyone who didn’t share in her twisted fantasy. “Don’t worry about the details, that’s the kind of thing you’re supposed to let me take care of. It won’t do you any good to overwork yourself, like that.” Her hand fell to your waist, signaling for you to agree. You managed a quick nod, and Glimmer went on, pleased. “Just sit back and relax. No need to worry your pretty little head over anything I think you do or don’t deserve.”

Your throat felt dry. The sheets below you felt scratchy, uncomfortable, like you were sitting on sandpaper rather than satin. You wanted to get up. You wanted to, but you didn’t. “I don’t… I mean, you’re probably right, but—”

“I am right.” She was laughing, reaching over to cup your cheek and tilt your head back, her lips soon pressed against the top of your head, but the gesture was hollow, it felt hollow, and you could’ve hated yourself for ever trying to give it meaning. Glimmer was good at that, making you feel like you were paranoid, too preoccupied with yourself to ever see the bigger picture. She was good at making you feel like you were in the wrong. She was good at making you feel like you’d always been wrong, even if you knew she couldn’t be right. “You just need a little help, that’s all. You were too reckless, when you came to me, you just got yourself into too much trouble. I just want to make sure you don’t get yourself hurt, anymore.”

You believed her. You could believe her. If you wanted to, you could make yourself believe her.

You’d have to believe her, if you ever wanted to survive what came next.

It felt like fire.

In your veins, in your blood, under your skin and spreading, every time you moved or shifted or took a breath deeper than the shallow, airy inhales you’d gotten used to, by now. It didn’t have any right to hurt as much as it did, honestly. The wound was old, mostly healed, a shadow of a scar of a lasting injury that’d already overstayed its welcome, but it felt like something new, something fresh, something that you’d gotten the other day, rather than so many years ago. Something raw, something bloody.

Something that Glimmer was making worse with every passing moment, whether or not she meant to.

She was trying to help. You reminded yourself of that. She didn’t trust a medic with you, and you’d had to beg her not to use the temperamental healing magic that so often left much more able-bodied soldiers in much worse condition than simple, external wounds could ever achieve, but you almost wished you hadn’t bothered. She must’ve been using the wrong ointment, the wrong elixir. She must’ve been being too harsh, or too gentle, or messing with something that made flesh and tissue smolder where it shouldn’t have, the pain vivid enough to make you curl into yourself, sink into the mattress, try to escape something that you already knew couldn’t be as bad as you were making it out to be, in your own mind. Whatever she was doing, it hu-

“Does it hurt, love?” Glimmer asked, slowly.

“It doesn’t,” You answered, without hesitation. “It just… It stings more than I expected it to.”

You tried to sound confident, but your voice wavered as her fingertips skirted over scarred tissue, your fists curling around the pillow you were clinging to, despite the way you knew it must’ve looked. Her bed was so much softer than yours, everything in her chambers so much more plush, but that made sense. She was royalty, and you were her prisoner. Your bedroom wasn’t simple, not by any means, but Glimmer's was…

She was a queen. You shouldn’t forget that, however convenient she made it to try. She was a queen, and you weren’t.

“If you’d let me tend to it earlier, it wouldn’t be so bad.” She was scolding you, but playfully, tenderly enough to let you calm down, some of the tension in your rigid form dissolving as you crossed your arms under your head and tried to relax. There was a moment of reprieve, the sound of glass clinking against glass, and a wave of cold air rushed over your injury, dulling any lingering pain into an unpleasant awareness. You would’ve thanked her for it, if the thought did leave a bitter taste on your tongue. You might’ve, still, if she hadn’t chosen to keep going before you could say anything at all. “Count yourself lucky it’s not infected. It’s almost as bad as it was, when we first met.”

It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. Or it might’ve been, you couldn’t really remember. It’d been so long since it was first inflicted, since the last spark of a war that’d spanned longer than your lifetime died out and you were left with the scars to prove you’d survived it, even if the majority of your hometown hadn’t been able to recover in the years that followed. You could barely walk when you first arrived in Bright Moon, but that might’ve been the exhaustion, or the stress, or some other vague, abstract concept that’d been just apparent enough for Glimmer to catch and take pity on you, despite the horror’s she must’ve faced on her own.

You stopped yourself before your thoughts could spiral any further. She pitied you, but you wouldn’t pity her. You refused to. You’d seen where it led, what kind of obsession it could create, and you didn’t want that. You wouldn’t let yourself believe you did.

“But it’s going to get better, right?” You couldn’t keep that hopeful lilt out of your voice, an equal mix of manufactured positivity and genuine optimism, despite yourself. “That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? So you can take care of me?”

There was a brief silence, then a small chuckle. Your wound felt warm, again, smoldering around the edges, and for a moment, you almost found it reassuring. “Of course,” She agreed, but she was still laughing. You wished she would stop. “That, and because I like having you around.”

It was almost funny.

You thought you’d be relieved, when she was finally honest with you.

It hurt, again. It must’ve been the paste she was using, something thick and elastic that kept a cluster of soft, generously applied bandages plastered to your skin. It was far from comfortable, too tight in places, too loose in others, uneven in a way that meant you’d have to tear off what you could and wrap your chest more thoroughly in an hour, at most, but you forced yourself to smile, to sit up and stretch as if doing so didn’t leave something in your spine twisted and cramped. You could complain, if you wanted to, you doubted Glimmer would be that petty, but there wasn’t a point. It was easier to keep her happy, with or without any caveats. You could live with the mild pain, for now.

Glimmer rewarded you with a small grin, a gentle hand on your cheek when you turned to face her. “My brave little sweetheart,” She started, nearly cooing. You tried to tell yourself it was unintentional. “You should probably rest, I might not be able to help if you make things any worse. I’ll take you back to your—”

It was a flare of panic, sudden and unmistakable. A shot of anxiety, a sudden burst of pure dread – something so mindless and so overwhelming, you were throwing yourself at her before you had a chance to think better of it, burying your face in her chest and latching on to her shirt, letting her wrap her arms around you when she recovered from any short-lived shock. “Do I… do I have to go back?” You managed, reluctantly. You didn’t want to ask, you didn’t want to fall so far, but you couldn’t go back to that tower. You just couldn’t. “Please, you can restrain me again, I just don’t want to—”

You were cut off by a squeeze to your side, an idle chuckle. You already knew what she would say, but the way she paused still made you hesitate. It made you feel unsure, obedient, like anything she’d done had ever mattered to you.

Like you were starting to need her as much as she claimed to need you.

“All you had to do was ask.”

It took you three hours to pick the lock on Glimmer’s door.

Three weeks, technically, if you counted the time you spent observing, watching, waiting until she trusted you enough to leave you to rest in her palace, rather than sending you back to that freezing, forsaken tower. It was a frustrating precaution, molding yourself into something submissive, begging to spend just one more night in her bedroom rather than your own, but you needed to know Glimmer’s schedule, the rotation of her guards, what you had to work with and how many flimsy, flat trinkets you’d be able to get your hands on before Glimmer started to question your new fascination with hairpins and letter openers. You needed to know who else was in the palace, who else you could get to before you were caught.

You needed to know who to run to, when you finally got out of the softened, insufferable cage Glimmer kept you locked inside of.

Three hours. On and off, one minute at a time, every little creak and jolt and tell-tale snap serving as another reason to hold your breath, to stop and listen, to shut your eyes and hope you’d never have to do this again. You could’ve cried when the lock finally gave away, when the polished marble of her door finally slackened and relaxed, falling open without a struggle. There weren’t any guards outside, you timed it so there wouldn’t be, but you doubted you would’ve cared if there were. You could already hear footsteps against solid tile, and hope flared in your chest before you could think to press it down, bright and burning and overflowing as you took in your soon-to-be savior – a girl, a few years older. A woman. Her name came to you in a moment.

Catra, a warrior, a war hero.

Someone who could help you.

You didn’t throw yourself at her, not like you threw yourself at Glimmer. You didn’t have to, you didn’t want to sacrifice your pride like that, not anymore, but that didn’t stop you from grinning like an idiot, from stumbling over your own feet as you sprinted in Catra’s direction, barely listening to her stifled swearing before it came to a jarring stop. You might’ve said something. You might’ve just opened your mouth and closed it again. You might’ve stuttered and mumbled and blabbered incoherently until her expression shifted, gave away, more out of relief than kindness. More out of understanding than any real empathy.

She cut you off, and something in your heart clenched painfully.

“You’re Glimmer’s, right?”

You shook your head. You would’ve denied it, but you couldn’t remember how to speak. Part of you wondered if you’d ever really known how to, at all.

“Dressed like it,” Catra went on, rolling her eyes, her tone only a touch above sardonic. You didn’t have to throw yourself at her – she was already taking you by the wrist, dragging you in the same direction she’d been heading, regardless, never giving you the choice not to follow. “C’mon, I don’t want to deal with Sparkle’s tantrums, today. You’re coming to the war room.”

You didn’t get a chance to refuse. You doubted she would’ve listened if you did, but you could’ve tried, you should’ve said something. It would’ve felt right, if nothing else, to put your foot down, to make a run for it, to tell someone what Glimmer had done to you, even if it was starting to seem like Catra might not make much of a shoulder to cry on. Even in the moment, you knew you’d regret it, but…

But, you couldn’t bring yourself to do much of anything.

You didn’t know what else you’d expected, honestly.

The palace was bigger than it looked, from your usual vantage point. The adrenaline had started to die down by the time you reached the ‘war room’, leaving you drained, tired, dragging your feet as Catra tugged you through a door twice your height, the guards that stood on either side of the entryway barely batting an eye at your bare feet and disheveled appearance. The ceilings were too high, the gold accents just a little too polished, everything too bright despite the lack of an apparent light source. It hurt, in a way. You wondered if it would hurt this much if you actually got outside.

Catra didn’t introduce you. She didn’t have to, not when you were abandoned as quickly as you were brought in, left to stand at the head of their table, tense and alone, as Catra drew attention to herself, instead, clearing her throat as she approached the other Princesses. You recognized most of them, anyone would – Mermista, barely glancing over you before she lost interest, Perfuma, kind enough to try to smile in your direction, and Adora, the Adora, She-Ra, still dressed in full armor, her arms crossed over the rounded table, her lips pressed into a thin frown and her expression…

And her expression identical to the one Glimmer wore, back when youstill had the option to look at other people.

It hurt, obviously, but you didn’t have much time to linger on the festering sting. You were already being lifted off your feet, a pair of strong hands or… claws, rather, clamping around your biceps and pinning your arms to your sides, squeezing so tight, you could hear something in your torso crack. You didn’t have to guess at a name. Even if you couldn’t see Scorpia’s face, her voice was enough, light and jovial, as if you hadn’t flinched away as she touched you. As if you weren’t close to tears. “Catra brought a friend!” You could’ve cried. You might’ve, if your embarrassment hadn’t been so much less ignorable than your mounting trepidation. “Finally, I was starting to think our wildcat would never break out of her shell. This is great, right, Adora?”

“It’s perfect,” Adora replied, obviously upset, but Catra only shrugged her off, draping herself over Adora’s shoulders she scoffed, keeping her glare centered on you. “You’re late. Is this supposed to be an excuse?”

“This,” She said, gesturing in your direction, “is supposed to be one of Glimmer’s. I wouldn’t have mess with it if I had a choice, but she looked lost, and you know how Glimmer would get if she wandered off.”

There was a huff, a chuckle, a mumbled ‘you know I’m right’, but it was hard to listen, it was hard to care. Your vision was blurring, your throat tightening up, but you fought back the tears as well as you could, knowing it’d only make your frustration that much worse. You didn’t want to make yourself look helpless, not here, not surrounded by people who were obviously so much stronger than you, but you couldn’t hold your hands steady, you couldn’t stop the way your breath hitched while it was still in your lungs. You wanted to hide. You wanted to run. You wanted to go back to your tower, and you hated yourself for it. “Please, I… I’m a captive, I shouldn’t—”

“Ah, why didn’t you say so sooner? Glimmer must be worried sick.” It was Perfuma, this time, still watching from a distance. You couldn’t tell if she’d heard you, but you choose to believe she hadn’t. It’d be easier, if you assumed no one was listening to you at all. “Scorpia, you’re not holding her too tightly, are you? It’d be a shame if there were bruises, after we finish.”

“Who, me? You know I’d never hurt a fly,” Scorpia laughed, tightening her grip. You made a breathy, pitiful sound, something between a gasp and a whimper, but neither seemed to notice. Neither seemed to care. You weren’t sure which you would’ve preferred, anymore. “Even if this one’s a little more… fleshy, than what I’m used to.”

You opened your mouth, ready to tell her she would leave bruises, that she wasn’t being gentle, but you didn’t have time, not before Adora spoke up, her posture a fraction more relaxed than it had been, a minute ago. “Don’t worry about leaving marks,” Adora cut in, nonchalantly. She had an arm strung around Catra’s waist, now, but she was still looking at you. If you’d been a touch more desperate, you might’ve thanked her. If you’d felt any smaller, you might’ve asked her to stop. “Glimmer’s been talking about this for months. I haven’t seen anyone that excited since…” She trailed off, throwing a glance in Catra’s direction, earning a wicked grin in response. For a moment, you wondered why you’d ever thought either one of them would try to help you. “Since someone realized she didn’t have to wait for us to fight to get her claws out.”

Perfuma rolled her eyes. Scorpia groaned. You wanted to ask what she meant. You wanted to scream for her to go on, to tell you what that was supposed to mean, to just go on until you could pick one of the awful, dark, twisted thoughts swirling around in your head and let that shove you off the edge before anything worse could. You had to know what was going to happen to you. You didn’t want to know, you didn’t want to anything, but you had to find out. It was a matter of survival. It was a matter of life and death. It was something you needed, and for a second, you thought you might be able to vocalize that. You thought you might be able to say it. You thought you might be able to actually say it.

Then, a familiar voice called your name, and again, you lost your chance to do much of anything at all.

Scorpia didn’t have to be told to put you down. By the time you could think to ask, you were already back on your feet, your knees threatening to buckle as you struggled to keep yourself upright. You could’ve collapsed. A part of you wanted to, most of you wanted to, but it only would’ve made things worse, it only would’ve made you seem more childish, even you doubted anyone was paying attention to you, anymore. No, Scorpia had gone back to the other Princesses, Catra and Adora still preoccupied with each other, and you were left alone, shaking, at the mercy of the woman currently positioning herself in front of you, cupping your cheek, tilting back your head as you fought not to push her away. You didn’t want her to touch you.

You weren’t really sure what you did want, anymore.

“Poor little thing,” She said, her voice already soft, sweet. She might be angry, later on, she probably would be, but you tried not to think about that. You could only be thankful she wasn’t, right now. “I think you’ve had enough fun, for today. All of this is clearly too much for you to handle.” She stopped, leaning down, her lips barely brushing against your forehead. It wasn’t a kiss, but it was close to one. It didn’t hurt, and that was all you could bring yourself to care about. “Are you ready to go home?”

She might’ve been talking about her room. She might’ve been talking about the tower. She might’ve been talking about something else entirely – a dungeon, a prison cell, a cramped, darkened room you wouldn’t be able to slip out of quite as easily. You didn’t know. You should’ve, but you didn’t.

“I…” You were barely able to whisper. It was pathetic, honestly, but you forced yourself to go on. It would be worse, if you drew it out. It would be unbearable, if you had to stay here.

You just wanted to be alone, even if you had to be alone with Glimmer.

“I’m ready.”

#yandere #yandere love #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere prompts #yandere commissions #commissions #writing commissions #yandere fantasy #yandere fanfiction #yanderecore #yancore

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wolfish-trickster · 3 years

Text

Liar

Part 3

Loki x female!reader

Word count: 1,7K

Warnings: angst, typos, everything sad besides doggo

Tag list:@gaitwae @lucywrites02 @hard-to-be-the-bard @birdgirl90 @laramoonworld @belovedadam @mascaracoffee @serebrum @myworldgoesboomz

Loki felt miserable. If only he knew what would he start with that lie. Why couldn't he tell her Y/N is his cousin or something? She and her golden-fish-like IQ would've believed him. Damn him! Damn him and Tony for making him do this! Why couldn't Stark do it himself! It was his idea afterall!

Loki was lying on a rug in his bedroom. He didn't feel like he deserved the luxury of a warm soft bed. He was looking through photos and selfies of Y/N in his phone. Her happy smile, her arms wrapped around him in a hug in his favourite selfie of you (his wallpaper), her two fingers giving him horns from behind his back and him doing it back to her. He counted, he had only 7 pictures of her in total. 'I should've taken pictures of her more often,' he thought to himself and wiped his eyes to get clearer view. He should've took a picture of her doing the most mundane things. Reading a book, drawing on a windowsill, chatting with someone. She always had this spark in her eyes whenever she talked about some of her interests. He wanted to see that spark again.

Loki caught himself dreaming of you again. 'Let her go,' he told himself. 'It will be better for her and you.'

But he didn't want to get better. Not without her. But he fucked up big time. He apologized. He showed her a proof of his innocense. She chose to put space between you two. And that was okay, right? He's already used to it, right?

His eyes were staring outside the window the whole night, but he wasn't watching anything. He needed them open, for whenever he closed them he saw you. Either crying and screaming like you did few day ago, or sad smile you gave him few hours ago, or your happy grin you have worn what seemed like ages ago.

Sky changed its shades of blue from dark to light. The morning sun made him realize that no, he isn't used to it.

The need to walk to your room was big. But he couldn't. He promised to leave you alone if you wanted. And you did.

So instead he hid in one of the old rooms everyone forgot about and never really used. He needed to be alone.

No one came looking for him yet. The only sign of someone remembering his existence was one message from Tony. Something about the info Loki got from that woman being useless and agents are taking the lead from the Avengers. Good to know he unknowingly destroyed his whole relationship with Y/N for nothing.

When he read those words the first time he wanted to smash the phone on nearest wall, but that meant losing all the pictures with you and he simply couldn't do that.

Loki wandered where where you. If you were safe. Maybe you took your dog out. Or made someone do it, so you didn't have to risk meeting him in the halls. Thought of you still avoiding him sickened him.

His lower back started to ache from sitting in pragraph position for too long. He decided to stretch and walk a little, clear his head. The plan was to go to kitchen, steal something small to eat (not because he was hungry, he needed a distraction) and go back to his secret room. Or the roof. What will came first.

With a glass of water and pockets filled with chocolate he started walking towards the exit.

Suddenly he heard small clawed paws hitting the floor making soft clicking noises. He followed the distand sound to find your little pup, Rex, walking around as if he owned the place. If he was here then you'll be nearby. Loki looked around the room, but besides the small dog and him it was empty.

When the little guy got his sent into his nose, he turned and sprinted towards Loki. He expected the pup to bite him, just like you promise you will train him, and mentally prepared himself for attack of small dull needles on his ankles.

To his surprise Rex started jumping on his leg, trying to reach his hand. When Loki lowered it to his level he started to lick it, his tail wagging wildly. Good to know at least he doesn't hate him.

"Did you escape her and went on an adventure, little guy?" he asked scratching behind his ears. Rex rolled on his belly and silently asked for scratches. Loki was more than happy to provide.

"Well, we can't leave it like that now, can we? She'll be worried sick if she doesn't find you in her room. Like this one time when she couldn't find her favourite plushie from childhood. We turned her whole room upside down just to find it. Later that day she realized she accidentally left it in my bedroom," he smiled sadly at the fond memory. "We laughed a lot afterwards. I fear she'll never laugh in my presence again," he stopped scratching.

Rex sat up and tilted his head at him.

"I know, I know, it's basically my fault. And I understand why she feels like that. Who wouldn't after their best... ex best friend said those things about them. I just wish I could turn back time and change everything."

"And why would you do that?" loki turned around to be met with face of none other than Tony Stark.

"You would never understand," he looked away.

"I'm capable of undertanding a lot of things, don't underestimate me."

Rex found new sent in the room and ran up to Tony. "Aaaw, is he yours? I never thought you'll be a dog person," Tony picked him up and got a good look on him, while Rex was trying to reach his face with his tongue.

"No, he's Y/N's. He must've escaped from her bedroom. Please, take him to her," he started walking away.

"No way, your friend, your problem. I'm already a very busy man even without pets," he put Rex on the floor and gently nudged him towards Loki.

"Here's the thing, I can't. I can't face her. And I am more than sure she doesn't want to face me."

"What happened? Don't tell me it's some petty reason like 'you picked the wrong movie' or 'those flowers don't go with ma vase'."

Loki rolled his eyes and took Rex to his hands. "No. She heard me telling lies to that woman we needed for those informations and now she doesn't trust me. I doubt she ever will."

"Just tell her how it was. How hard can that be?"

"Don't you think I already thought of that? I showed her the video from security cameras yesterday and she still doesn't want to go back to being my friend. And I understand why," he stared deeply into Rex's puppy eyes. As if the little dog felt his sadnes he tried to cuddle up to his chest.

"Then pray tell, cuz I could never understand women's logic."

Loki played with Rex's soft fur. "She knows I'm a great liar. She might think if that was a lie and she couldn't tell, then might be wondering how much of other things I told her were lies," Rex started chewing on Loki's thumb. "The truth is I never told her a single lie. Only that one time when she asked me if I'm smiling because I saw Thor fall down the stairs," he chuckled.

"Then tell her you never lied to her," Tony suggested.

"I can't. She won't believe me. Didn't you hear what I just said?"

"I did. But listen, life is complicated enough already, why making it more miserable by not talking each other's issues out? Just go to her, return her dog and ask to talk to her."

"What if she slams the door in my face just like the last time? Then what genious?"

Tony shrugged. "I don't know. Write her a letter and slide it down her door?"

Loki rolled eyes and started walking in the direction of your bedroom. "Your advices suck," he called behind his back.

Here he was. Standing in front of your door, which was slightly ajar. Explaining how Rex got out. Behind those doors he laughed with you, played games with you, watched movies while cuddling with you. So many pleasant memories. Scarred by the freshest one.

He remembered the fear and panic he felt when you started shouting at him. He remembered every last word you told him. Those kinds of words only left your mouth in his worst nightmares. He never thought he'll hear them in real life.

Tiny bites along his wrist brought him back to present. He didn't know what to do. Should he stand there and wait until you come out? Or should he knock? Call out for you?

His questions got answered sooner than he thought. "What are you doing here?" he heard her voice coming from the opposite end of the hallway.

He quickly looked down at Rex in his arms, the opened doorand realized how it must look to you. "I'm not stealing him, I swear. I found him wandering around the Tower," he held him out to you.

You took him, your fingers brushed his for a moment. You coughed. "Ehm, thank you. For bringing him back, I mean."

"No problem," he stood there awkwardly, hamd behind his back.

He figured you didn't want to say anything more and he took a step to walk around you.

"Hey," you called out.

"Yes?" he asked hopefully, waiting for your next words.

"I...... uhm," you bit your lip nervously.

He saw her wilingness to talk as his chance. "Can I speak with you? About all of what happened? Please?"

You looked up at him, a small relief in your eyes. "Actually, that's what I wanted to ask you."

"Oh, okay," he felt like an awkward teen rather than over century old man.

Both of you stood in the hallway. Until you broke the silence. "Well, do you want to come in?" you pointed at your door.

"Yeah, okay. Why not? Your bedroom is nice for talking," Loki mentally slaped himself across the face for saying such stupidity.

"Yes. I suppose it is," you gave him a small smile and closed the door behind the two of you.

#loki #loki odinson #loki x reader #loki angst #loki x reader angst #rex is a good boi #im still sorry

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