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0alanasworld0 · 11 months

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Atay (Hakim Ziyech x reader)

Request: Hi please can you write something for ziyech I missed him and I missed ur writing (it could be something inspired by ziyech making tea w nayef and zouma!)

Warnings: none

“YES!” Hakim exclaims, quickly sitting up as he looks at his phone. That unfortunately brings your tired, cranky morning self up with him and you groan as you lament the fact that you were having a nice, quiet night in until it was rudely interrupted.

“Hakiiiiiiiiiiim!” you whine as you shift yourself so your head is laying on the pillow again. His eyes widen and he quickly turns to look at you, his concern overriding any urge to make fun of your current state.

“Sorry, love.” he says quietly and you huff in contempt.

“What could possibly have caused you to nearly throw me off the bed?!” you ask incredulously with a scowl and he chuckles, flicking your cheek.

“I’ll have you know, I’m not on the lineup!” he cheers, dropping back down to hug you and you can’t help but invite the warmth.

“That’s amazing, love! When does trai- wait what?”

“I’m not playing tomorrow?”

“Is that not a bad thing?” you’re completely baffled by his cheerful tone. These past few weeks, it was this very situation that had been upsetting him beyond heartbreak, he loved to play!

“I’ve got better things to do with my time.” he shrugs, tapping away at his phone with a smile on his face. You narrow your tired eyes, trying to read any signs of upset, even small ones but nothing. His eyes are bright and sparkly, his thumb is twitching in the way that it always does when he gets excited. He’s genuinely happy.

“Hakim…” you repeat yourself, placing a hand on his cheek and you successfully gain his attention.

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” he smiles softly at your concern.

“Love, without meaning to sound bitter, this team sucks. There are so many things I could be doing rather than offering myself up as a scapegoat.” he explains.

“What’s brought all this on?” you wonder, a smile appearing on your face and concern melting away.

“When you have every important person in your life telling you the same thing day in and day out, it’s bound to make sense eventually.” he winks and you roll your eyes. He was right, you had all been telling him words to the same effect but none of you believed that he would ever actually take them to heart. But you’re grateful because he deserved to know his worth and not cast it in doubt every time his hard work went unnoticed and unappreciated.

You peer over at his phone out of curiosity and see a familiar name on the screen.

“Oh no…” you smirk, lifting your head to get a better look at his face.

“Okay this is nothing in comparison to my previous ideas.” he reassures you but you remain unconvinced. Free time was a rarity so when he was blessed with it, he just couldn’t help but go all out. He had to find something crazy to do: pottery painting classes, renaissance fairs, escape rooms, you name it. Nothing ever quite beat the balloon ride but he never ceased to find new and outlandish things to do.

“I just think that a day in with a couple of friends will be a worthwhile use of our time.” he shrugs, still looking to your eyes for any protest. He laughs when he sees your somewhat shocked expression. He knew it wasn’t usual behaviour for him but what could he say? He was just feeling a little teamsick and the closest thing he had to that team was a man he saw as a brother.

“It has been a while, would be nice to catch up, I suppose.” you contemplate and you can see his smile growing from the corner of your eye as you look into the distance. Your eyes drift to the frames sitting pretty on top of the dresser. Alongside the many photos of the pair of you on your various excursions lie the team photos. Photos from their field trips around the Qatari malls, the historical sites in Morocco. Of course there were the photos taken after their matches. Their faces all lit up with a mixture of joy and shock and disbelief. Those were his absolute favourites because they captured moments he could never have foreseen at any point in his life before that. He still struggled to believe that it happened.

He’s looking the same way and he immediately starts beating quickly as he relives the memories. He’s zoned out but he comes back to at the sound of his ringtone.

“C’mon! No time to waste!” he claps his hands before leaving the bed, much to your dismay. You groan out, flopping back into the warm sheets, still not ready to move.

“Sweetheart…” he taps your cheek and you roll your eyes, hauling yourself out and shivering at the cold morning air making contact with your skin.

You both hurry to get ready, opting for more comfortable clothes since you were likely spending the night with your friend. It seems that the pair of you aren’t the only ones to be excited because the whole car-ride there, you’ve both been receiving text after text from Nayef asking you what's taking so long.

Hakim doesn’t even have to knock the door before it sings open and the pair of you are engulfed in a bone-crushing hug by the man himself.

“I was starting to think you cancelled on me!” he tuts and Hakim slaps him on the back of the head as Nayef leads you to the living room where you see yet another friend already there and patiently waiting. He looks up from his phone, eyes lighting up at the sight of you and Hakim. He jumps up from his seat, going straight for Hakim for a bear hug that seems to knock the breath right out of your husband.

“It’s been way too long!” Kurt shakes his head and you can’t help but be in awe of the interaction. He simply didn’t get enough of things like this. The crazy adventures were great but sometimes he needed the simpler things that would bring him back down to earth and keep his heart and mind at rest. A reminder that he did have a little bit of back home still with him.

After a couple minutes of silent thinking, Nayef opts to get the dreaded uno cards out which had you a little concerned. You knew that despite being some of the loveliest people on earth that they could get a little… passionate about uno. But you decide to stay silent about it this once because it was also some of the best, cheap entertainment you could get your hands out.

The boys don’t disappoint as barely 5 minutes into the game Kurt has to go and change into a different shirt after your dear husband throws a cup of water over him and Nayef almost breaks the buzzer after being dealt some of the worst cards of all time.

“You know what! I’m really feeling some tea right now! How’s about we turn on a movie and I make you all some?” Hakim suggests, the tension in his voice is still very apparent from the game that really couldn’t have gone any worse for him towards the end.

“Please, as if you know the first thing about Atay!” Nayef laughs and Hakim gasps as he notices you giggling at him. You couldn’t help yourself, his cooking left a lot to be desired.

“Is that a challenge?” Hakim raises an eyebrow, while you and Kurt look on at the scene rolling out in front of you.

“Ha! How could it be a challenge when we know who’s going to win?” Nayef laughs mockingly and with that they’re both stomping over to the kitchen. The rest of you remain still for a second to process whatever’s just gone on. From one friendship-breaking event to another. Hakim stomps back in and he looks at the pair of you as if it's obvious what you’re supposed to do.

“We’re gonna need some judges, aren’t we?” He pushes you both into the kitchen with a shake of his head.

“Please try not to murder each other this time!” you sigh and they both look up with surprise.

“This man is my brother! I would never even think of such a thing!” Nayef gasps, placing a hand on his chest in offence. Hakim gives him a little side hug and you would be more convinced by the display if you hadn’t sat through as many of their tantrums as you had already.

At first, things start off well for both of them. No one spills anything, or scalds their hands. There hasn’t been any bickering over utensils and ingredients courtesy of Nayef always keeping a fresh stock of everything he could possibly need. Even before the competition began, you knew who you were going to pick as your winner. It was very simple for you. You’re content with that choice until you see something out of the corner of your eye. You don’t think you believe it so you quickly look up to what Hakim is doing.

As soon as Nayef and Kurt realise, they too break out into a fit of giggles while Hakim smirks, cool as you like. You think you counted 5 cubes of sugar but it could have easily been more, you feared.

The rest of the tea-making session is without any more heart attacks and runs smoothly, albeit the inevitable little spats between Nayef and Hakim. Apparently having the best spoon was a vital part of the experience and it seemed that neither would let up until they found a bunch more of the same spoon tucked away in the back of the cutlery drawer.

Once they are sure they have everything ready, and after a few more minutes of trash-talk between the competitors, they hurry over with the trays with you and Kurt trailing along excitedly. Hakim always flat-out refused to ever order Atay from the restaurants so it was quite rare that you had it, although you were both extremely fond.

You get comfortable as they begin to pour out the tea, the delicate scent of the mint warming up your senses. You get a little too excited before remembering that neither of them are particularly capable culinary wise and your love had a crippling sweet tooth.

As they both attempt to lift the teapot on the pour, their lack of experience becomes all the more apparent as their aim misses the cups and splashes onto the tray. You supposed that they were at least very enthusiastic about the whole thing.

When they finally both manage to fill two cups each, they attempt to show some class by gently placing the cups in front of you both, bowing their heads before taking their own seats.

You would have been more convinced by the display if you hadn’t seen Hakim and Nayef bicker over spoons or the eventful uno game before that. Nonetheless. You decide not to make a comment as you and Kurt grab your tea cups at the same time.

You take a precautionary sip, careful not to burn your tongue as you sample the drink. You’re pleasantly surprised by the taste. It's the perfect strength to warm your body up and the taste of the mint is refreshing on your tongue but not too overpowering. You easily finish the cup before taking Hakim’s cup. Again, you still know who your winner is but you humour the petty contest anyway. You glance up and you can see that he’s nervous. Only slightly, no one else would notice but you had spent far too much time with him to not be able to read him like a book.

You treat his cup the same as Nayef, one small sip to get a feel of it and it goes about as well as expected. You can barely taste the mint over the overwhelming sweetness, much like his coffee. One sip was more than enough but you recall the nerves on his face and remember the task at hand. You can almost feel your teeth hurting but you power through and drink it with the same, if not more enthusiasm. Its taking everything in your power to hold back a grimace because the sweetness was almost sharp.

You don’t get another chance to look up at Hakim as you’re drinking but you best bet that his are dead set on you. And he can see that you’re struggling in spite of your best efforts which causes a wave of irrational nerves to overtake him. He knew this didn't matter at the end of the day but still.

By the time you’re both done, Hakim keeps his eyes on the ground, twiddling his thumbs while Nayef looks up at both of you with a proud smirk on his face. He was within his rights to feel that way since his tea-making skills far surpassed his cooking but you had other plans, not quite ready to give him that satisfaction.

“… so?” Nayef asks expectedly and Kurt takes the opportunity to give his verdict first.

“Yeah its kind of obvious…” he trails off, looking at you expectedly and you shrug nonchalantly.

You both go to give your answers at the same time. One expected and the other… less so.

“Nayef” “Hakim”

“Wait WHAT?!” Nayef exclaims, Kurt and Hakim equally surprised.

“I like my tea sweeter.” You calmly justify, a small smirk painting your face as you take another sip of Hakim’s concoction.

“You may as well eat a whole sugar cube!” Nayef yells, you definitely don’t regret your decision now. You look up at Hakim to see him quietly laughing at the situation unfolding.

“Seriously? That’s your final verdict?!” Kurt clarifies, equally surprised but less hysterical than Nayef who’s currently burning a hole through your temple with his gaze as you look to Kurt, nodding surely.

“Yep.” You assure, making sure to pop the p to further irritate Nayef who rolls his eyes.

“I guess its a tie then!” Kurt sighs, shrugging his shoulders and Nayef goes to argue his case again but is thankfully interrupted by his temporary housemate.

“MOVING ON…” he announces, grabbing the TV remote and opening up Nayef’s endless film catalogue. Of course, still sulking but Nayef is eventually able to move on and Hakim lifts himself off of his seat to take his place next to you. He throws an arm around your shoulders and you lay your head on his and the chosen film begins to play. You decide it's only fair that you let the sore loser take his pick after the robbery that just occurred. No pushback from Hakim either although you had watched the particular movie so many times that you practically had the screenplay memorised but you refrain from making any comment.

By the time the end credits roll, it's completely dark out and you and Hakim take that as your sign to leave. You say your goodbyes and Nayef delivers a particularly firm handshake to you on your way out. Again, expected and perhaps deserved.

The car ride home is fairly quiet because babysitting 3 man children was quite the exercise and you had almost completely ran out of energy. Ever the gentleman, Hakim takes it upon himself to carry you to the house once he’s parked and he somehow manages to get the door open with you tucked safely and comfortably in his arms. He gently places you onto the bed, pulling you to sit upright so he can get you into your night clothes. He allows his fingers to ghost over your most sensitive parts as he goes about it, enjoying the way it sends a shiver down your spine while you scowl at him.

Once he gets into his own nightwear, he hurries to join you under the covers, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you into your chest which you happily cuddle into. One of his hands plays with your hair while the other draws smooth circles on your back and you can’t help but sigh out in relief and pleasure.

You yelp as you suddenly feel a small pinch at your side.

“Hey! What was that for?” You whine and he rolls his eyes, still unable to bite back his smile.

“You’re a little liar.” He puts simply and you look up at him, confusion apparent on your fsce s you gaze into his deep brown ones.

“You and I both know that that amount of sugar in my drinks is barely palatable for you. Why on earth did you pick me?” He wonders out loud and you laugh.

“Eh, who cares.” You shrug.

“You’re my husband, you’ll always be my winner no matter what.” You struggle to hold back a laugh at your cheesy words and he narrows his eyes at you. Within a second you’ve borh broken into a fit of giggles.

“The look on Nayef’s face was too good to miss, you know that.” You say as you attempt to catch your breath.

“I know but at the cost of how many cavities?” He jokes and you tuck your head back under his chin. He can still feel you laughing against the soft skin of his neck and smiles at the tickling sensation.

The exhaustion does finally take you over completely and you let out one last yawn before muttering a soft “I love you,” before falling asleep on his strong chest.

“I love you more, sugar…” he whispers. Barely giggling at his stupid little joke, being careful not to jostle you around too much and eventually the eventful day hits him too. He falls into a content sleep for the first time in ages, you nestled in his warmth and hopefully having dreams as sweet as his own.

Hello, loves! It’s been a hot minute but I’m finally gonna be rolling out my fics and getting back to working on all your requests. Of course I had to start with Hakim because he’s a favourite amongst everyone and I’ve been stalling on this one for the longest. Thank you all for being so kind and understanding about everything and I hope u enjoy!!!

#hakim ziyech #hakim ziyech x reader #hakim ziyech imagines #hakim ziyech imagine #football imagines #football fanfic #footballer fic #football imagine #football fluff #football one shot #football fanfics #footballer imagine #footballer x you #footballer x reader

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celestialspecial · 2 years

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The Sin of Desire (Pt.5)

Werewolf!Billy Russo x Reader

Warnings: Violence, Graphic Descriptions, 18+ spicy themes, *be careful out there

You had arrived at your friend Emily’s doorstep and once she had finished hugging you to the point of choking, she led you inside to the spare bedroom she had made up. Plopping down on the bed, she immediately understood that you didn’t feel like talking about the events of the night until after a long undisturbed sleep and potentially 5 cups of coffee the next morning. Pulling out your phone to plug it into the wall to charge, no texts, no calls from Billy. You’d save your anger for when you were less tired and the sweet embrace of unconsciousness took hold instantaneously.

The incessant buzzing of your phone vibrating across the side table caused the dreary tendrils of sleep to dissipate slowly. Still groggy, but alive. Reaching for the annoying device you unlocked the screen and saw an influx of missed calls and text from none other than the man himself. Billy. “Are you okay?” “Are you safe? Please call me back.” “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry” “Call me back as soon as you wake up.” “I’m so sorry.”

Shaking your head, you hit redial and in two seconds flat the line opened and there was Billy’s voice- “Oh my god- are you ok? Where are you? Are you hurt?” Your head hurt from the influx of concern so early and before any caffeine.

“No no, I’m fine. I’m- where the hell were you last night? I tried calling you. What happened?” You hear his long drawn out sigh from the other end. He sounded tired too.

“I was out cause…ya know…” Yes. The full moon. He had said once that he didn’t need to shift every full moon, he’d be cranky and bitter as hell but in this day and age not everyone was able to be at the whims of their animal selves, himself included.

“I was attacked.” You ground out, you hadn’t intended it but tears stung your eyes and your voice cracked a little on the last word. “By an- Oh ‘ya know’, last night. You knew something was going to happen. So, tell me, what happened.” A soft knock on the open door revealed Emily standing a step outside the room holding a mug with steam billowing off of it, she nodded in silent understanding and left the cup on the night stand for you. Bless her.

A long pause, then, “I know. I’m so sorry I tried to stop it. To make sure to be far away, that no one would...” A sudden dawning of realization hit you and the piping hot coffee burned down your throat as you coughed into the receiver.

“That was you.” More silence.

“Yes.”

You couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it. Why would he try to attack you, hurt you?

“You tried to kill me?” The words felt like ash on your tongue, placing the mug down quickly as you felt a light headedness start to take over.

“No! Never. I’d never do that! I- “

“You were covered in blood, Billy. You tore down a window and…and almost broke down my front door.”

He let loose a long-strangled breath and you could sense the anxiety from his end, his mind probably racing a mile a minute to somehow put into words what was really going on.

“Can we please talk about this in person?” You wanted to be petty and retort back something cruel, something short, something that would make him wonder about your future together, something that would be scathing, but you were tired and you felt ragged and confused. The ringing in your ears seemed to intensify as you also wound around your head searching for an answer.

“Fine.”

“I’ll come get you. We can- we can go to our place?” Your place was a small mom and pop restaurant on the outskirts of town, about 15 minutes from your house. It felt almost like a cruel joke going there since it had been the place he’d asked you to be his girlfriend. Now it could be the place where he got to explain why he’d tried to kill you. Ah, Love.

“Alright. Today, at noon. I’m at Emily’s.” Relief seemed to emanate from your phone.

“I’ll be there soon.”

“Russo.”

“…yes?”

“This had better be good.”

A grunt of understanding on his end and the line went dead. You set your phone down and huffed out a large gulp of air you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, falling back against the pillows with a fluffy “thump”.

“Y-You wanna talk about it?” Emily again at the doorway. You couldn’t tell if she had been listening in, but then again, she was smart and didn’t have to. She’d probably been wondering why it was her room you were sleeping in instead of your significant others.

“Not really.” You rolled onto your side facing her, sure the signs of fatigue and underlying hurt were evident by the way her face softened and she walked over to the bed and sat down.

“That’s okay, we don’t need to talk it about it now…I heard…so is Billy coming to get you?” So, she had been listening in a little bit.

“Yeah, he’s gonna take me to lunch and …talk me down I guess.” She nodded doing her best to understand and pick her next words carefully.

“Did he say where he was last night?” Ooof, there it was. The question you weren’t ready to answer and one that you’d never be able to truly answer honestly. The idea of never sharing the whole entire truth with your oldest friend stung a little, but dwelling on that before handling the most recent events wasn’t something you were ready to do.

“No, but I’m gonna make sure he fills me in today.” A small smile, then she leaned down and gave you a mini squeeze.

“I’m so grateful you’re safe.”

“Me too.”

An hour and a half later you saw Billy pull up to Emily’s drive. His jaguar looked so out of place out of the city. He got out of the driver’s side, wearing a black t-shirt and leather jacket with dark jeans. He had called it his ‘weekend outfit’ to you once when you’d poked fun at the fact he wore it so often, but you would too, knowing how much that jacket probably cost him. He made to move towards you, testing the waters if a hug was going to be welcomed or shunned. Realizing it might be weird to Emily standing on her porch if you two didn’t embrace you let his arms wind around your back, your face buried in his neck breathing in the scent of him. You cursed your body for immediately reacting and relaxing into him so easily. You were supposed to be mad, damn it, but being in his arms felt so safe, so… nice.

He let go after a long while and walked over to the passenger door, opening it for you. A single wave to Emily and he was edging out of the drive and down the road to the diner. You stared outside, refusing to look him in the eyes as he drove through the winding roads and curves. Outside it was sunny, warm, pretty enough that no one could’ve suspected the accounts of the night before. Billy sat stiffly, white knuckles gripping the wheel. He’d fucked up and he knew it. Maybe you were crazy for agreeing to meet with him so readily, anyone else would’ve put the two and two together of their boyfriend changing into a wild beast and trying to break into their house and cut off all contact.

That would’ve been easier, but you wanted to know. Deserved to know why. Pulling into the small parking lot of the restaurant you recoiled realizing how it was also surrounded by woods. Before last night that had seemed so charming, like a fairytale, a small cabin-esque building with delicious food and delightful people, now all you could look for was danger. But he was sitting right beside you, wasn’t he? Billy got out and opened your door, offering his hand to you, but you didn’t take it. Instead brushing off your pants and making a beeline for the front door without looking back. You could feel the small pang in his chest and the worry that most likely filled his eyes as they moved downcast following behind you.

The sweet older woman at the front guided you two to a side booth, looking back over the woods. It was a quiet space, away from a lot of the other patrons, she winked at you after placing the menus on the table. You think her name was Charlotte, a relative of the owners, she had been working here too the day Billy had asked to make things official and probably assumed you guys were back for an anniversary dinner or something similar. Flipping through the menu, refusing to meet Billy’s stare, even though you could feel it boring into you from across the table, pretending to be entranced by all the side dishes they had as additions to a hamburger.

“Love- “He started. “Please can I...” You folded the menu and placed it off to the side, finally looking up at him. He looked pathetic. He never looked like this. Large deep brown eyes, eyebrows drawn together, he looked like he had a shit night too, dark circles under his eyes. He looked so...sad. So remorseful, that you couldn’t do anything other than sigh.

“Go on.”

He looked around to make sure Charlotte, and any other bus boys or patrons weren’t standing too close by. “What happened last night… I’ve never done that before. I swear, it’s…. hard to describe.”

“What were you trying to do exactly?” You hissed at him, leaning across the table. He drew in another shaky breath.

“Trying to get to you.” That much was obvious and it must’ve shown on your face as you almost rolled your eyes. “If you haven’t noticed a few weeks ago something…shifted. Changed. Between us.” You had noticed. That was when he had started avoiding you. Always watching you, but from a distance, it felt different than the playful and light experiences you two had had the previous months. “There are different words and terms for it, depending on who you ask but all I can describe it as is a bond, a connection. I’ve always been able to keep my normal everyday life separate from, well, the rest of me, but this time it’s like the part of me that’s dormant and under the surface save for once a month suddenly realized that you existed, that…”

Charlotte had come over looking cheerful and refilled your waters, Billy looked away somewhat embarrassed, pretending to look out the window. You couldn’t help but smile at the awkwardness. After giving your orders he resumed, “The wolf in me has never been aware of the people I’ve dated before, never cared. It’s like two sides of me kept separate, and that’s how I always liked it, but for some reason you’ve edged past that, leaked into the parts of me that it has access to. I thought if I kept a distance for a little bit maybe it would forget, lose interest, but the harder I fought it the more it felt compelled to chase, to claim.” Billy was looking at his hands, clasped in a tight fist on the table in front of him, as if willing himself to maintain control over this part of him that didn’t seem present now.

“It wanted to get to me, to kill me? Because it doesn’t understand?” His steely obsidian gaze found mine and held it for a moment.

“It wanted to change you. It could smell you, like I can smell you, but raw, wild…” He shook his head. “Unsafe.” You felt a chill on your back, he’s never shared much of this information with you before, and honestly most days you were too afraid to ask. To know more felt scary, and when you’d go out and laugh and drink then spend the rest of the evening in bed together it was like you were just two normal people in a happy relationship. You’d never asked how he’d been turned, if he’d been turned, was it possible for him to do that to others, but apparently it was.

“It wanted you- I, wanted you. I could smell you and it was driving me crazy, I needed to claim you in anyway possible, taste you…” You shivered at that, aching at the desire in Billy’s eyes, but also the fear of that coming from the other part of him. That would have you become like it, in order to have you. “I tried to get myself as far away from you as possible, three towns over, letting it take over, but after I’d hunted, it didn’t seem to be enough.”

“Billy- “You reached across the table to take his hand, afraid that his fists were clenched so tight they might break through the tabletop between you, but also to comfort, soothe. There was a soft buzzing, electricity when your hands touched. From the get go there had always been a sort of spark, the kind that you had spent years denying it existed, after a handful of failed relationships and lackluster romantic encounters it had always felt easier to assume that maybe the whole package relationship-wise just wasn’t meant for you. Billy had changed all that. You’d never felt giddy to see someone before, smiling like an idiot when he’d bring a coffee to your desk, dash of cream, 2 sugars and pump of hazelnut. Even your own parents didn’t know how you liked your coffee, but for him you’d said it once and he never forgot.

Same with music you liked, books you’ve read, textures of things that you enjoyed or hated. He remembered it all, and you effortlessly did the same for him. To understand and be so fully understood in return was new, and scary but no matter how many mental gymnastics your head went through to ignore that this man was different, the sensations in your body, a feeling of a deep yes resonated in your gut.

Gripping your hand, you felt the tiny shaking in it cease, the muscles relax every so slightly and fingers grip yours back in want and need. The anger you might’ve felt paled in comparison to the remorse and regret he no doubt had flowing through every cell in his body right now. “So, what do we do?” You asked, knowing he probably didn’t have an answer either. His shoulders drooped away from his ears where they had been hunched, you could see his mind working away, eyes darting back and forth, searching for some sort of solution in that businessman and marine brain of his.

“I’m not entirely sure right now, but I’ll figure it out.”

“We’ll figure it out.” Charlotte returned with your plates of food, both of you eating in calm quiet, allowing what had happened to not settle over the rest of your meal like a low hanging cloud. You had time to find a way around this. Through this, but that time was not right this second. You had another month yet.

#billy russo #Billy Russo x Reader #Werewolf!billyrusso #werewolf!billyrusso x reader #billy russo x female reader #werewolf #the punisher #the punisher fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel #marvel the punisher #frank castle #ben barnes #ben barnes character #fantasy fic #my writing #writing

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shyficwriter · 3 years

Text

Sick

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu & Kraglin)

Summary: You are quite sick, and unfortunately for everyone else, you won't stay in bed. Might have something to do with being delirious with fever, or maybe you're just a terrible patient. Who's to say?

Authors note: Content warning for hallucinated gore (I think? maybe horror is a better description? Let me know), and mentions of blood, and of course mentions of all the nastiness that comes with a stomach sickness (Don't worry, I kept it clean, didn't want to gross myself out lol) The characters are safe, story has a happy ending.

Word Count: 7,120

Damn, you felt like shit.

It was the first morning in forever where you could remember not actually wanting to get out of bed. Everything was sore, and damn it was just so cold. Why was it cold? Peter usually kept the ship decently warm?

You sighed and rolled out of bed, pausing momentarily when the room began to spin and your stomach tightened in nausea. Damn. That mission the other day must have taken more out of you than you thought. You didn't think you'd still be this sore and tired two days later. This was worse than yesterday, and you weren't exactly expecting the nausea, but at least it had passed.

Oh well. Nothing you can really do about it. Besides, you had more pressing matters, like figuring out why it was so damn cold. You were shaking and had to fight your teeth from chattering. Better put on a sweater.

After washing up and getting ready you headed out of your room to ask Peter why it was so cold, maybe check on the boiler yourself if he hadn't. You found him with Gamora and Kraglin on the flight deck discussing the best course to Berhert, where you guys were planning to dock for a few days and maybe chase down a few leads for new jobs.

"Why is it so freaking cold in here?" you ask. "Did the boiler break down or something?"

They turned to look at you and it was then you realized they were in their regular clothes, not even wearing jackets to keep them warm. Peter was even wearing short sleeves. "I feel fine?" he said, looking to Gamora. "Are you cold?"

She shook her head, adding that if anything, she thought Peter kept it a little too warm on the ship.

You raised an eyebrow, wondering how they could possibly be warm when you were freezing. You shook your head gently. "Guess it's just me then," you grumble.

"You ok? Ya look a little pale there?" Kraglin asked after noticing you were at least a shade or two lighter than normal and how the skin around your eyes wasn't normally that dark.

"I'm fine, Kraglin," you say, trying not to sound like too much of an asshole despite being cranky that you were so cold and achy.

Peter looked at you suspiciously a moment before saying, "Hey, come here a sec."

"Why?" you ask, just as suspiciously.

"Just come here."

You roll your eyes as you approach. "Fine." Once you stopped a few feet from him you asked, "What?"

He raised his hand out toward your forehead, and in your surprise you leaned away quick, instantly regretting it as the room began to spin again.

You gathered yourself somewhat quickly and noticed his hand coming back. You smacked it away. "What are you doing??" you asked through squinty eyes.

"I'm trying to feel your temperature, dummy. Quit moving!" he responded, irritated when you dodged him once again.

"What am I? A child? I don't need you to feel my temperature, mom." you sassed, taking a few steps backward out of the way. "I'm fine." you say irritably.

"Well you like shit."

You almost laughed in surprise at his bluntness as you leaned back with a mildly offended expression. "Well fuck you too, dickweed. You aren't exactly a looker yourself." You didn't really think he was ugly, you were just being mean, but it made Kraglin laugh anyway.

Peter shot him a look before turning back to you and saying, "I didn't mean it like that. I just think you should probably go back to bed if you aren't feeling well."

"First off, I have shit to do, I'm not going back to bed. Secondly, I never said I wasn't feeling well, I just said I was cold," you say bitterly, hugging your arms close to your chest as another chill hit you.

"Then why are you sweating?" Peter asked.

You looked at him a moment, confused, before bringing your own hand up to your forehead. Sure enough, you were starting to sweat a little around your hairline. You wiped your hand on your sweater as you gave him a bitter look before turning and walking away.

"Go back to bed!" Peter called after you.

You flipped him the bird, not turning around as you continued out of the room. "You don't tell me what to do. You ain't my mother."

Peter narrowed his eyes as you walked away. "Yeah... well... Good!"

Gamora rolled her eyes at both yours and Peter's immaturity and returned the conversation to the navigation.

***

You made you way down to the kitchen, thinking maybe you'd make some toast. Your stomach felt a bit crampy now, and you thought toast might be light enough to soothe it before you got started on your chores. Maybe some milk. Milk was nice and gentle, right?

Rocket and Groot were already in the kitchen eating some cereal when you got there. You nodded toward them in greeting as you put down some bread in the toaster. You pulled down a glass and went to open the fridge to pour yourself some milk while you waited when Rocket spoke up.

"Oh hey, we're out of milk, if that's what you're after."

You sighed. "Juice will have to do then," you say, grabbing the bottle and pouring yourself a glass of the light green liquid. You leaned against the counter and sipped at it as Rocket made conversation.

"You said you're going to blow out the dryer line today, right?"

"Yeah."

"About how long are you gonna be? I need to wash a load and I was hoping to get it started before I got to work fixing Groot's game-thing so it might be done by the time I finished."

"Shouldn't be too long. Should only take abo-"

Just then the toaster popped, making you jump a mile, and Rocket and Groot laugh at your reaction.

"Oh man, I don't get why you Terrans are so scared of that! Haha!"

You only glare at him before removing your toast and turning your attention to buttering it rather than engage about how you were definitely not scared of a toaster like you would have any other time. You just didn't feel like it today.

"I am Groot?"

"Yeah, you ok? Normally you yell back when I tease you about the toaster. You sick or something?"

You were finished buttering your toast so you turned to give him an unimpressed look. "What? If I don't yell at you, you think I must be sick?"

Rocket shrugged, "I mean, yeah?" He collected his and Groot's now empty bowls and hopped over to put them in the sink. "You've always yelled something back, what else I'm I supposed to think?" He turned back towards you and looked you over. "And are you supposed to look that... dead?"

You narrowed your eyes. "You supposed to be that bald?"

"What? I'm literally covered in fur." Rocket said, looking at you like he thought you were stupid.

"You won't be if I shave you, you little shit."

"I am Groot."

"I'm not sure if cranky's the word I'd use right now, buddy." Rocket said, throwing you a sideways glance. "Come on, let's go see if Drax wants to play cards or something." With that the pair left the room, leaving you alone to nibble at your toast and sip at your juice in peace.

It didn't exactly help the cramping in your stomach though, you realized as you placed your glass in the sink. You took a deep breath as another chill hit you and you rested over the sink a bit to get your bearings, taking a few more deep breaths hoping it would ease the cramping in your stomach.

Once you felt steady enough you left the kitchen, intent to get started on today's tasks, first being the dryer line, then changing the various air filters about the ship. You'd probably also get around to checking all the smoke detectors before lunch, but for now you just needed to get down to the laundry room to get started.

God, it was so cold.

You made your way down the hall from the kitchen and turned off towards the laundry room when you were startled by Yondu. He had been coming up the other hallway in the direction you were now headed and decided to greet you with a clap on the back and a loud, "Hey, squirt! What'cha doing?"

He always called you squirt, pipsqueak, munchkin, just because he knew it annoyed you to be called childish nicknames. To be fair, he did still call Peter, a fully grown man, 'boy,' as well as also sometimes calling him 'squirt,' and Gamora 'girl,' so at least you knew it wasn't personal.

The startle, as well as the impact of his hand meeting your shoulder sent you forward. You grabbed hold of the wall and tried to steady yourself as the hall spun around you.

"Whoa, ya alright there?" Yondu asked, not expecting to have thrown you so off balance.

You look up at him weakly and nod, breathing deeply through your nose as you held a hand to your stomach, still bent over slightly from where you had caught yourself. You thought you were going to be sick, but you were doing your damnedest to keep it together. "Yeah." you swallowed, trying to fight the slight tremors beginning to shake you. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Ya don't look it. I think you need to take your ass back to bed."

You glare at him. "I'm fine. I just need a sec." As if your body were trying to betray you, another chill shot through your spine, making you shake as a strong cramp made you fold into yourself with a, "Ow, fuck!"

Shit. You knew what was coming and there was nothing you could do to stop it. You quickly turned away from Yondu and vomited on the floor with such force that it felt like something had ripped your stomach open and you fought not to whimper at the pain. You heard him make a disgusted noise, and you didn't blame him.

Teeth chattering and dizzy, you looked at the mess and said, "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry. I'll clean that up." Your vision swam as you shook, one hand gripping at the wall, the other still wrapped about your middle.

Before Yondu could think to respond you had dropped to your knees, thankfully missing the puddle of sick on the floor, and vomited again.

You couldn't stop shaking, and resigned into leaning into the wall, eyes closed as you turned your forehead to rest against the cold metal. Your breath came in shudders as you heard Yondu cry out, "Shit! Quill!" He sounded urgent, but you didn't have time to think about that, you were too busy shaking and trying not to vomit again.

You thought you heard Rocket's voice from up the hall say, "See! I knew you were sick!" and you briefly opened your eyes to look up and make out the little blurry figure approaching before closing them again, weakly throwing him the bird as you focused on keeping it together, both arms now clutching your stomach as you grimaced in pain. It would be over soon. You just needed to gather yourself so you could clean up the mess you made and then you could get on with your day. God your stomach hurt...

You heard Yondu call out for Peter a second time, more urgently than the first and adding, "Kraglin! Somebody! Get down here!" when you lost your battle against your stomach and vomited for a third time. This time Rocket's cries for Peter joined him. You wondered why they were freaking out and calling for Peter when you felt Yondu grab your shoulders to stop you from falling forwards, causing your eyes to pop open allowing you to see your puddle of sick was now red, though you couldn't remember eating anything red... Was the juice you drank red? No, it was green... "Well that's not ideal..." you slurred out, realizing that it probably definitely shouldn't be red, but couldn't quite get a grasp on exactly why you knew it shouldn't be.

The last thing you heard was the sounds of boots thundering down the hallway, getting closer as they mingled with the noises of Yondu and Rocket's shouting before everything went dark.

***

You woke up in your bed laying on top of your sheets. You still didn't feel great, your stomach still felt crampy and also now burned a bit, but it was better than the sharp pain of before and at least you didn't really feel nauseous anymore.

It was still really cold though. You sat up and your head swam. You looked down to see you were still in your sweater and contemplated putting another one on before deciding against it. You were going to be up moving around doing your chores in a second, you'd likely warm up then.

You gingerly pulled yourself out of bed, thinking you might go get some water first, when you looked over at your nightstand for the time and found that someone had already left you a glass. How kind. You sipped at the water and silently grumbled when you realized you had been asleep for nearly two hours.

Wait... why were you in bed again? You sort of remembered getting sick. Peter probably made you lay down a bit. He was a mother hen like that.

No matter, you were up now. Time to get to work.

You left your room and had made it about 20 feet before Gamora spotted you and ordered you back to bed. You made out her two stern faces staring at you... wait two? You thought she only had one of those?

"Why?" you ask, wondering if Peter's mother-hening had rubbed off on her. Way you saw it, you only threw up, it wasn't the end of the world.

"Because you're sick, that's why!" Gamora replied, sounding exasperated.

"I'm fine." you assured, making a face a her. "You worry too much, chicken. The sky's still there." Hmm... you might have gotten that phrase wrong, or did you? You couldn't quite remember. Oh well.

"Bed. Now." she ordered. You blinked and suddenly she once again only had one face. One very cross looking face. Oh well. You still knew better than to argue with her, regardless of how many faces she chose to wear today, so begrudgingly you turned around and went back to your room with a dramatic sigh.

When enough time passed that you were certain she'd be gone, you attempted your escape again. This time you got about halfway to the laundry when you spotted little Groot in the hallway. He looked at you contemplatively and said, "I am Groot?" which you took to mean he was probably asking if you were supposed to be up and out of bed. Leave it to Peter to tell the whole damn ship.

You gave the little guy your best smile and made a shushing gesture with your finger to your lips. "Our secret, right buddy?"

He smiled and ran off.

Taking that as an agreement to silence you went on your way only to not make it much further before hearing someone tell you to "Stop right there!" You turned to find Gamora and Peter looking very disapproving while Rocket stood there looking smug with little Groot sat on his shoulder. Knowing you were defeated, your shoulders fell as you said, "I know, I know. 'Back to bed.'" As you made your way past them you looked down at the little twig and muttered, "Traitor." only to be met with him sticking his little tongue out at you playfully.

Your third attempt was much the same, only this time it was Mantis who caught you and she wasn't quiet about it at all when she went running off yelling to Yondu that you were out of bed again, much to your chagrin as it prompted him to come out of a nearby room. He didn't even have to say anything. He just stared you down, and you held up your hands in defeat and said "Ok! Ok! I'm going!" before scurrying the best you could back to your room.

You didn't even get out of your room on your fourth attempt, having opened the door to find Drax had been walking by at just that moment. He stopped and narrowed his eyes at you with arms crossed, daring you to try it. You looked at him awkwardly a moment before sighing and just closing the door. Maybe you'd take a nap and wait them out. You were a little sleepy...

On your fifth attempt you got nearly to the doors of the laundry when you heard someone shout, "Where do you think you're going?! Get back to bed!"

You turned around irritably to see it was Peter and Kraglin now, looking fairly cross. Seriously!? Why can't they just let you be!

You crossed your arms. "I have to blow out the dryer line, asshat. Where are you going?" you sassed.

Kraglin leaned to Peter and muttered something you couldn't quite make out. Something about the flight hangar? Oh well, probably wasn't important.

Peter looked at you like you were a misbehaving child. "I'm going to take you back to bed, that where I'm going."

You rolled your eyes and waved him off this time, turning your back on him to continue on your quest.

"Hey!" he scolded, effortlessly catching up with you and grabbing your arm to stop you. "I'm not kidding, you need to go back to bed." He put a hand to your forehead, this time succeeding since he had you by the arm and you couldn't get away. "You're burning up. Come on, back to bed." he repeated.

"Screw off." you say weakly, the sudden motion of being grabbed making you dizzy.

"See this is what I mean. You need to rest." Peter's tone was slightly more gentle now, but it didn't make you any less cranky. "Do you really think you're gonna puke blood and then just be allowed to walk about like everything's fine? You're crazy. You need to stay in bed until a doctor can see you!"

Huh. So that hadn't been a dream... Maybe it was the fever talking, but you didn't really care too much. You didn't want or need to see a doctor. You tried to reason with him.

"If I don't blow the lint out of the line it could catch fire. You want that, Star-Brat?" Ok, so you were still a bit cranky, probably could have said that nicer. Oh well. You tried to pry his hand away but failed, sighing in frustration.

"Already did it." Kraglin lied, throwing a hinting look to Peter.

Taking the cue Peter nodded. "Uh- Yeah, he got it done while you were sleeping.'"

"See?" Kraglin said, "Now you got nothing to worry about and you can just get some rest."

You jerked your arm and this time succeeded in freeing yourself, but not without feeling faint. "Nice try." you say, stumbling back a little. "There's still other stuff I needed to get done."

Peter grabbed your arm again, afraid you might fall backward if he didn't, and this time wasted no time marching you in the direction of your room. "And it can all wait until tomorrow. Right now you rest. This is the last time we're gonna tell you."

You looked at him confused. Last time? Had there been others? Oh right... you thought remembered him and Gamora yelling at you once before... oh and Yondu... you had forgotten Yondu. Bunch of mother hens...

Too weak to free yourself again you settled for complaining that you were fine, and for Peter to just let you go about your business. It all went on deaf ears.

On the way back to your room the three of you passed by Yondu, who laughed and said, "Told ya the squirt would try and escape again, didn't I? Just as stubborn as the two of you boys."

Peter chuckled, looking to the blue man and saying, "Remember that time we had to literally tie Kraglin to the bed when he caught the Kree flu and wouldn't stay in the Med Bay?"

Kraglin rolled his eyes and Yondu laughed, looking at you. "Now there's an idea!"

You shot him a look. "If you tie me down I swear I'll gut all of you," you say crankily.

"Stay in bed then and we won't have a problem," Yondu grinned, adding, "Don't make us have to knock you out."

You glared at him again but finally allowed Peter to lead you back to your room with minimal grumbling.

Once in your room he threw back your covers and ordered you to get into bed or else he and Kraglin would tie you to it. Afraid they might actually follow through with the threat, you obeyed, grumbling about how they were treating you like a child.

"Quit acting like one and we won't have to," Kraglin quipped, pointing to the water glass on your table and stating how you needed to keep your fluids up and that it better be gone by the time one of them came back to check on you.

You just turned on your side away from them and grumbled out a sleepy, "Yeah, yeah. Leave me alone."

Satisfied that you'd finally stay put the two men left the room. Once Peter closed the door behind them Kraglin said, "I guess I better actually go clean that dryer line now, huh?"

Peter chuckled. "Yeah, maybe."

***

Peter met up with Gamora on the flight deck. "How soon until the Doc can get here?"

As soon as he, Gamora, and Kraglin had all ran down from the flight deck to see what Yondu and Rocket were yelling about and found you passed out in Yondu's arms in front of a puddle of your own all-too-bloody sick they immediately sent Kraglin back up to call one of Berhert's doctors to try and get one to meet them at the ship, knowing they were still about three days out from even thinking about landing.

"Still about a day out," Gamora answered.

"I'm getting nervous," Peter admitted since it was just he and Gamora alone now. He told her how you were you were practically burning to the touch when he was dragging you back to your room for the final time, and even though you put on a good act with the banter, you couldn't hide from him the fact that you couldn't stop shivering or the way you looked like death warmed over.

He also told her what Kraglin had said, how they thought the fever was getting to you. When they found you last you were making your way towards the flight hangar, but you thought you were headed towards the laundry. They were on opposite ends of the ship.

Gamora validated his concerns, taking his hand to comfort him before saying, "Don't worry, the doctor will get here in time."

Peter sighed and nodded.

If- No. When you got better, Peter was going to kick your ass for making him worry.

***

You woke up again a few hours later feeling thirsty and achy. You looked over to see you still had about a sip of water left and drank it. Placing the glass back on the nightstand you stared at the ceiling for a moment before realizing you also needed to pee. Ugh. Inconvenient. If you couldn't work or do anything else you'd at least rather be sleeping. Actually, now that you thought about it, right now you didn't even want to work anymore. You just wanted sleep.

You knew surely you wouldn't get yelled at for being out of bed for getting up to use the toilet, so you sat up with the intent to roll out of bed and walk across the hall to do your business. Maybe you'd get some more water on the way as well.

No sooner had you sat up did you see it in the corner. Your stomach flipped and you rubbed your eyes, but it was still there. With horror in your eyes and your urge to use the toilet completely forgotten, you stared at the horrifying sight, unable to make a sound.

In the corner of the room was a humanoid figure, looking like it had been skinned alive. It was eyeless, only dark oozing holes remained where its eyes should have been, same with its nose. It was twitching grotesquely, blood and yellow ooze sloughing off its body as it did so, puddling about the floor at its feet. It tilted its head at you with a wicked toothy grin of sharp yellow teeth.

You pressed yourself against the headboard, shaking like mad, only a tiny squeak able to leave your throat. Sweat tickled down your forehead but you didn't dare move to wipe it away.

You sat like this for what felt like an eternity but was likely only a few moments before you heard the door to your room open and heard Yondu's voice.

"Me and Rat just came to make sure ya didn't run away again." He chuckled, before noticing the state of you and his tone changed. "What's the matter?"

You didn't look at him, didn't say anything, not wanting to take your eyes off the monster or do anything that might spur it into motion, and pointed a trembling hand at it.

Yondu looked where you were pointing. There was nothing there.

He looked down at a confused Rocket and just muttered, "Shit," realizing that you were likely hallucinating from the fever. He spoke to you softly, easing himself into the room so as to not make any sudden movements, "Listen here now, there's nothing there. It's alright."

You swallowed hearing his words. There was nothing there. There was nothing there. It couldn't hurt you. It couldn't-

It took a step towards you.

"Please," you managed to get out, jerking back into the headboard, trembling. You silently begged that you would fall asleep, or wake up, anything to make the nightmare before you go away.

Yondu's eyes widened and he held up his hands as he took another gentle step toward you despite how you still hadn't looked his way. "It's alright, you're ok, whatever it is- it's not real."

"Please," you say again, pleadingly, "Please knock me out."

Yondu looked at you in confusion. "What?"

"Please... Please. Knock me out. Sedate me- I don't care." You begged. You believed his voice when it said the creature wasn't real, or at very least you wanted to believe it very badly. However, believing it wasn't real didn't change the fact that you could still see it. Tears started to leak from your eyes. "Please make it stop."

Seeing you beg like that tore at something in Yondu's heart. You guys all did scary shit all the time. Came with the job of being part of the "Guardians of the Galaxy." Everyone had seen each other scared at some point, but this was different.

He spoke softly. "Ok, ok." He looked at Rocket for assistance. When he had threatened to knock you out earlier it had only been a joke. Other than sucker-punching you, which he had no intention of doing, he didn't actually have anything he could give you that would knock you out.

Rocket spoke up, uncharacteristically softly, trying to be helpful. "Look, it's ok, we're here, you're safe." He made to jump up on the bed before Yondu could stop him.

A reddish oozing blob similar to the creature in the corner but with reddish eyes jumped up by your feet and you screamed.

Yondu's scolding cry to Rocket of "Dammit, boy! No!" was drowned out by your cry as you kicked and sent the horrible thing flying to the end of your bed. It just managed to keep from falling to the floor by sinking its claws into the blanket, and it stood back up with a shake. You shrieked as you threw your empty water glass right at the creatures head only for it to catch it and toss it aside on the bed.

Then you felt strong hands grab your wrists. You heard Yondu's voice calling your name, saying it was alright, that everything was ok, but it wasn't Yondu. It was the creature from the corner.

"I don't think that's helping!" Rocket said, hopping off the bed to narrowly avoid being kicked again.

"Well jumpin' up on the bed wasn't yer brightest idea either, boy!" Yondu scolded back. You were sliding down the headboard, trying to get away from him, so he switched tactics. He traded gripping your wrists in favor of wrapping his arms around you, effectively pining your arms with your wrists against your chest in a hug so he could rock you gently saying, "Shh, it's alright, you're safe. It's alright. Shh."

Tears ran down your face as the creature wrapped itself around you. You turned your face away, kicking and struggling to break free as you cried softly, "No no no! Please no!"

Yondu continued to rock you, hoping you'd snap out of it. After a couple more shushes and assurances that you were safe, that weren't quite working, he threw a sideways glance at Rocket. "This doesn't leave this room, got it?"

Rocket cheekily replied, "Me? Tell everyone you're a giant softie? Never!"

Yondu glared at him and was about to say something snarky in return when he heard Mantis from the doorway.

She peeked in nervously. "Is everything ok? I was walking by and I heard screaming."

Rocket got an idea. Drax had told him how Mantis had put Ego, an entire living planet, to sleep. Surely a mere Terran should be no problem. "Mantis come here, we need your help."

Mantis quickly but shyly entered your room. Seeing the state of you in Yondu's arms she worriedly asked the pair if you were ok.

"Not exactly." Rocket answered honestly, telling Mantis how the fever put you in a bad way, and they now needed her help to put you to sleep so you'd feel better.

"Think you can do that for us, Bug?" Yondu asked, still holding you tightly as you cried and struggled to get away, his eyes nearly pleading.

Mantis nodded.

You felt the creature's arms wrap tighter and you kicked fruitlessly. You had kept your eyes shut tightly, but upon feeling that you almost had an arm free you allowed them to open.

You regretted it.

There was now also a shorter monster, just like the one from the corner that had you now in its clutches. Dark horns protruded from its forehead and it opened its glistening maw as it reached a bloodied, oozing hand toward your face.

You threw back your head in a weak, terrified, cry of anguish, struggling against the hold of the other monster as you kicked and sobbed a desperate, "Please no! Don't!" before once again darkness enveloped you.

Your struggling ceased and Yondu laid you down to rest on your pillow, brushing some sweaty hair back from your eyes before standing up.

"Jeez," Rocket said, shaking his head and wondering aloud what you had seen that made you do "that."

Yondu looked down to see that Rocket wasn't just referencing your terrified crying and thrashing. He made a face of pity before sighing and looking up at Mantis. "Sweetheart, I need ya to go fetch Gamora for me, alright? If ya can't find her get Drax. I'm gonna go find some more sheets."

***

When Mantis came and told Gamora what had happened she immediately had Peter call the doctor they sent for to ask him what to do. You were clearly worsening and Peter was worried the doctor wouldn't get there in time.

Once on the line and after finding your temperature was over 40°C, and learning about the hallucinations, the doctor instructed that you needed to be cooled down immediately, and suggested they place you in a cold bath or shower. After that, they needed to keep your fluids up and monitor your fever.

Until the doctor would get there in about 18 hours, there was unfortunately not much else he could tell them to do.

So they waited.

***

The next time you fully came-to was nearly two days later.

You woke up in your bed feeling tired but better than before. Your stomach was still slightly achy, but the terrible cramping was gone. You also didn't feel as cold and stiff as you previously had.

You sat up, this time without the room performing cartwheels as you did so, and you took that as a good sign.

The room was dimly lit, but you still noticed you were wearing different clothes. You also felt... cleaner than you'd expect, for lack of better word. You realized the implications were that one of the others had likely bathed and re-dressed you and you resolved not to think too much about it as you felt a blush start to creep up your neck.

A loud snore startled you and you looked over to see Drax asleep in a chair between the wall and your bed, an open magazine spread across his stomach where he must have fallen asleep reading it.

You quietly swung your feet over the bed, intent on stretching your legs a bit, but you were startled again when your feet touched down on the floor and a loud tinkling of bells set off, startling Drax awake in turn.

After a grunt and a rub of his eyes he looked at you disapprovingly, asking what you were doing.

"I was just going to walk around a bit," you answer, doing your best not to be snarky. "Why the hell are there bells trip-wired to my bed?"

"You're supposed to stay in bed. You kept trying to get up and falling. It was Rocket's idea so we'd hear you trying to escape."

It was your turn to make a disapproving face, but you supposed you couldn't exactly be mad at them for caring, even if it seemed unnecessary. "Well, why are you here?"

"We've been taking shifts to watch over you, Peter said we were waiting for your fever to break, but I told him waiting for your temperature to return to normal would be sufficient."

"Oh," is all you could say, brushing off his absurd literalness. "Um, thank you." you add quietly. You hadn't realized.

"Yes. Now will you go back to bed, or do you need help going to the toilet again?"

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Well, each time you were almost awake enough to think you could walk the past couple days it was because you needed to use the toilet or you were going to vomit. I just assumed you were doing it again. You're very stubborn."

"No, Drax." you say, blushing fully now. You weren't sure if you were embarrassed more by his bluntness or the new knowledge that the others had to help you pee and clean up your sick. You didn't even want to think about if they had to wipe your ass. You'd literally die. "Even if I did, I can do it by myself. I feel much better now." It wasn't until then that it hit you what he had said. "Wait- Did you say two days?"

"I did."

"I've been out... for two days?"

"Yes."

"So... this whole time? ...You guys have been looking out for me?"

"Yes." Drax answered, seeming confused why you'd even ask. "Us and the doctor that came by yesterday." He raised an eyebrow. "Why are you crying?"

You wiped at your eyes quickly, having wished he hadn't noticed the tears that sprang to your eyes and filled your waterline. "I'm not," you sniff, looking down a the bed. "Just... Thanks. You didn't need to do that, so thanks. You can go to bed now. I feel better now. Sorry."

Drax stood. "Why are you apologizing? That's what family is supposed to do." He picked up a thermometer that had been placed on your nightstand and aimed it at your forehead. "And we did need to. You are small and weak like Peter. You would have died if we hadn't." The thermometer beeped and Drax read it. "You're right, your temperature is almost back to normal. But I suggest you still go back to sleep."

You wanted to tell him he was being dramatic about the dying part, but then you remembered that you actually didn't really remember much past seeing your bloody vomit, and you had absolutely no memory of any doctor, so you didn't push it.

"If your fever is gone you no longer need to be watched. I'll let the others know. Goodnight." Drax said, walking around the bed towards the door.

"Uh, Drax?"

He turned to you. "Yes?"

You wrapped your arms around his middle. "Thanks again."

He returned the hug, patting you on the back as he said, "You don't need to thank me. I know you'd do the same in return. Now sleep."

You pulled back from the hug and nodded, a gesture that you'd be good and go to sleep.

Drax seemed to want the confirmation of you getting back under the covers though, so with a light laugh huffed through your nose you crawled back between the sheets and obeyed. Seemingly satisfied, Drax finally left.

***

You woke the next morning feeling almost completely like yourself again.

You washed up and dressed, but not before removing the trip-wire bells from your bed, and then you made your way out of your room to get a glass of water and see if you could find the others.

Turned out, both the water and your teammates were all in the same place.

You walked into the kitchen to find everyone already inside. Before you could say anything Kraglin spoke up.

"Look! The world's worst patient lives!" he said with a grin.

"Nah, Krags, that's still you." Yondu corrected, giving you a wink as Peter agreed with him, but amended that it was a close race.

You walked over to a cabinet to get yourself a glass. "Drax told me what you guys did, and- well, thanks," you say walking over to the sink. "I mean, spare me the details, I don't want to hear anymore about it than what Drax already told me happened, but still, thanks. You didn't need to." You filled your glass and turned back to face them, sipping your water.

Yondu noted your blush and nudged you in the arm on his way to the coffee. "Don't mention it, kid."

This sentiment was met with nods and verbalizations of agreement from the others. You were family. That's what family did.

"Kay, but next time, which I hope there won't be, just stay in bed." Peter laughed.

"Yeah, yeah." you say, grumbling playfully.

"You hear that? Someone write that down." said Rocket, "We're going to hold you to that."

"Don't push it." you say, eyeing the raccoon.

"What? Your stubborn ass only tried to escape like a hundred times," Kraglin joked.

"And that's my cue to get to work," you say, setting your glass on the counter with the intent to run away from this conversation. However, you were stopped by Yondu grabbing your sleeve with an "Ah, Ah" and Gamora shoving a bowl of Yarrow Root across the table with the command to "Eat something first. You don't want to set yourself back and get sick again."

You sighed but didn't argue, knowing it was better to comply and realizing you were a little hungry anyway. You took a root from the bowl and bit into it to satisfy your friends.

That's when Peter speaks up and tells you that the doctor said you needed to take it easy for at least a day or two.

You narrowed your eyes. "When?"

"When she was here."

"When was that?" You take another bite of the root.

"Couple days ago."

You swallow. "Well then I'm considering that as time served." you say, deciding you'd take your breakfast to go.

Drax blocked your path.

"Um, can I get through?"

"No. Quill said this might happen. I'm stopping you from escaping. Finish your breakfast."

You shoot a glare at Peter before giving a hopeful look to Rocket. "You can talk some sense into them, right?"

Rocket shrugged. "Not my problem." before collecting Groot and leaving the kitchen with Mantis, who mouthed the word "Sorry" to you as they left.

You sighed, knowing there sure as hell wasn't any reasoning with the other five. "Really? This is what we're gonna do?"

"Yep." Peter grinned. Yondu and Kraglin simply shrugged behind their coffee.

Once you relented and sat down Gamora stood and stated that it wouldn't kill you to rest after being sick before leaving with Drax, who had apparently decided his job as security guard was now over. He said he was glad you were feeling better before following Gamora to the door and saying to her, without consideration that you could still hear, something to the tune that he imagined you felt better... now that you weren't puking and soiling yourself.

You choked on your water.

The other three pretended to be utterly fixated with the table and walls of the kitchen and you covered your face with your hands and moaned, "Next time please let me die."

"Will ya settle for us forgettin' it happened and never speakin' of it again?" Kraglin asked, fighting back a chuckle.

"Yes please." you squeaked from behind your hands.

Seeing an opportunity and taking it Peter added, "You still have to take the next couple days easy though."

"Anything!" you promise, lowering your head to the table.

"I think we got ourselves a deal." Yondu laughed, getting up to put his now empty coffee cup in the sink. "C'mon squirt, I'm sure we can find somethin' to take your mind off it."

And you did. You spent the next couple days just hanging around the ship with the guys and watching old movies Peter had collected over the years, telling funny stories, playing cards, and actually keeping your promise to let your body rest. Before long the whole ordeal was all but forgotten, but you were still always grateful for your family.

You knew no matter what, they had your back.

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monstersandmaw · 4 years

Text

Male drider x female reader - WIP, Part Two (sfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

After a teasing Part One last week, here's 3.5k words of Part Two, featuring two poems, neither of which are my own... Things get off to a very rocky start between the lord of Widowsweb Court and the reader, with the drider not exactly behaving in a manner befitting a lord... Naril, the firbolg gardener that everyone seemed rather taken with, continues to be a complete cinnamon roll.

Hope you enjoy, despite 'his lordship's' terrible manners and behaviour... Part Three has just gone up on Patreon today. He also got dubbed ‘cranky spooder’ over on our Discord server, which I adore.

Enjoy x

On the day you first met the lord of Widowsweb Court, you’d opened up one of the enormous windows to breathe a little life back into the stuffy library.

Having spent four weeks getting to know the collection as it was, you’d taken the opportunity to dust a little as well. That had the added advantage that you were now able to let the air back in without fear of choking clouds of dust billowing up into your face. For a house as enormous as Widowsweb Court, you had been surprised to learn that the staff was so minimal - no more than Naril and his father, Chiara the housekeeper, a valet of the lord whom you never saw, and two other members of staff; one a cook, and one a maid.

Standing beside the heavy, ragged old curtain that dragged its hem on the floorboards like a sullen teenager scuffing their heels, you sighed and stared listlessly out at the enormous park beyond. There was something melancholy about it. The grounds were meticulously kept by Naril, not a leaf out of place, and yet it was deserted.

There should have been parties, the voices of people laughing, the chink of glasses and the murmur of conversation in the evenings as people gathered to watch the sun go down over the stunning vista beyond. Music should have floated across the terrace behind the house, washing out to mingle with the dancing splash of water in the fountain, but that basin with its fantasy carvings and rearing stone centaurs, laughing fauns, and wide-winged harpies remained silent and dry.

“Why is it so sad here?” you whispered to yourself, the backs of your knuckles trailing down the old, warped glass of the leaded window. The shutters of this window had been thrown wide too so that you could see what you were doing, and the light poured in over one of the three long, research tables that lined that half of the dour library. Over the course of the past week, you’d stacked books pertaining to poetry up into huge, teetering piles that now looked more like a model city than anything, with skyscrapers reaching for the moulded plasterwork of the triple-height ceiling.

A low, bitter voice from behind you made you jump. “The name didn’t give it away?”

You yelped and tensed, turning sharply to find a figure occupying the shadows between two looming bookshelves. Unable to see them behind the chiaroscuro contrast in the room, you squinted. “The name?” you croaked when you’d finally recovered your senses.

A long, black, needle-thin leg emerged first from the darkness and you almost recoiled in surprise before another appeared beside it. A drider. The voice belonged to a drider. “Widow’s web…” he said in his low, gravelly voice, the tone heavy and dripping with sour sarcasm.

“Oh.” You blinked and curiosity flared in you. “Do… Do you work here as well? I haven’t met you before…”

The emerging drider stopped, the shadows still concealing his upper body, but you could see that he was one of the deadly, flash-quick driders; slim-built and light boned, and probably full of venom. You swallowed. Perhaps he was some kind of security agent? Perhaps it was his job to keep an eye on the place and make sure people kept their distance from the place. Perhaps he had come to check up on you.

For a long moment, the drider remained silent, and then without a word, he flung a thin volume onto the nearest end of the table, only a yard or so from where he still hung back, half concealed in shadow, and turned wordlessly to go. “See that this one is shelved with the rest,” he growled.

You caught a flash of red on his spider’s abdomen before he completely disappeared. His needle-clawed legs made almost no sound on the floorboards, and if you hadn’t been so stunned by his unexpected appearance and behaviour, you might have gone after him to scold him for treating what had to be a first edition - everything else so far had been - so callously. By the time you heard a sharp creak and the soft click of a secret door closing somewhere, it was too late to follow.

So instead, you left the window and picked up the book. It was an anthology of poems, and as you let the volume fall naturally open in your hands, it revealed a short, painfully bitter poem.

And like a dying lady, lean and pale,

Who totters forth, wrapp'd in a gauzy veil,

Out of her chamber, led by the insane

And feeble wanderings of her fading brain,

The moon arose up in the murky East,

A white and shapeless mass.

No wonder he was so gloomy if this was the kind of thing he read. With a sigh, you closed the book and laid it with the other poetry anthologies, and spent the rest of the day trying to shake the encounter from your mind.

At lunch, Naril leaned over the table and frowned. “You alight?” he asked. “You look kind of… far off…?” It was just the two of you that day, with Naril having come in from the gardens a little later than usual, and his father having already eaten.

You sniffed and blinked, not realising you’d been staring into your bowl without really seeing it. “Yeah,” you croaked. “Listen… I’ve not really asked about… this place much. Why is it called Widowsweb?”

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his lanky arms. He was tall, even for a firbolg, and that day he had scraped his long red hair back into a thin plait that hung down his back. His eyes, bright green, turned a little distant. “Apparently a dowager from the Silkfoot family had a falling out with her son, and he was so desperate to be rid of her that he exiled her here and gave the entire estate to his cousin who went with her. The two families diverged there, and never had anything else to do with each other since.”

So what Sarrigan had told you, about the two families being at least distantly related, was true. You wondered if the part about the Silkfoot family not liking humans had played a part in the disagreement. “I know one of the Silkfoots. Not well, but he’s a friend of a friend. He seems nice, but he says his family’s mostly awful.”

Naril was still watching you. “What’s brought this on?” he asked after a moment.

You took a breath and said, “I’m assuming your master is a drider then?”

Naril nodded. “Yeah. You… You didn’t know?”

You shook your head. “I hadn’t given it much thought, if I’m honest. Your father was the one who employed me and dealt with everything on behalf of your ‘master’. I… I think I met him this morning though.”

It was Naril’s turn to look a little surprised. He batted his long-lashed eyelids a few times and then barked a rough laugh. “Seriously?”

“Why is that so strange? He lives here. I find it weirder that I’ve not seen him yet.”

“He never shows himself to any of us. He lives in his wing of the house and literally never goes out. Chiara, and his valet Mason are the only two who ever interact with him directly.”

“Why?”

The firbolg’s surprise melted into something softer. “It’s said he’s cursed, but my father says that’s bollocks.”

“If he’s not cursed, then why? Why live as a recluse?” and why was he so rude?

Naril gave a half shrug and then stood, reaching across the table to collect your plate with his scuffed, scar-knuckled hand and take it to the sink. You murmured your thanks as you waited for him to speak, but he didn’t for a long time. You stood watching him, his shirt dirty and sweat stained, ripped here and there, presumably from the vicious thorns of the roses you’d glimpsed from the windows.

“He lost his wife and their entire clutch when they’d only been married a year or so,” he said at last. The splashing of water in the sink as he washed up almost masked his words, but something in your chest panged when you caught them. “People said he did it. People said he was cursed. People said his whole line was cursed.”

“People say a lot of cruel and stupid things,” a harsh, female voice interjected from the doorway behind you and you turned to find Chiara glowering at the pair of you. Naril cringed and turned his attention back to washing up. “You’d do well to ignore all of them, and repeat none,” she said, fixing her yellow eyes on you. The harpy’s tone was as sharp as her claws, and you didn’t fancy crossing her.

You nodded. You weren’t part of the staff, no matter how welcome Naril and his father had made you feel. You were here to reorganise the library, and then you were going to leave. You had been there for one out of your six contracted months already, and the task seemed gargantuan, but you were determined not to let it get the better of you. Time to get back to it.

“Chiara,” you said carefully, “We weren’t gossipping. I believe I met your master this morning, though he didn’t fully show himself to me. I just wondered who I’d met, that’s all.” With that, you turned and put your hand on Naril’s arm. “Listen, I’d better get going. Thanks for doing that,” you added with a twitch of your chin towards the soapy dishes in the sink.

He bowed his head, his large, cow-like ears waggling softly, and closed his eyes briefly. “Take care up there in the library, eh? Don’t go falling off something or lifting more than you can carry. You look worn out.”

“I am tired,” you said, cracking a yawn almost directly on cue. “I haven’t been sleeping all that well here. Could I borrow you tomorrow for half an hour or so? There’s a massive chest that’s been parked in front of a shelf and I need to move it to get to the books behind it.”

He grinned, his odd, almost feline nose twitching. One lip pulled back to reveal his blunt, herbivore’s teeth and he nodded. “Happy to lend a hand, you know that. After lunch?”

You smiled, feeling a slight heating of your cheeks, and turned for the doorway. “Thank you.”

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and you finally cleared enough shelves to begin putting the first phase of your plan for the library into action.

Three days later, though only as you tucked yourself up in bed for the night, you realised you’d left your phone behind in the library. Cursing, you knew you’d have to go back for it if you were going to get up in time the next day to start work. No one formally kept track of your hours, but your professional pride demanded that you start work at nine, and you didn't fancy sleeping through til gods-knew when, especially given your erratic sleeping patterns of late.

Dressing hastily in jeans and a t-shirt, you grabbed the back door key, with which Mr. Ambleside had entrusted you after your first week on site, and let yourself into the main house.

If Widowsweb Court was creepy in daylight, it was unfathomably eerie at night. Pipes creaked and groaned sporadically, and a draft whistled up the corridor as you fumbled along the passageway that would lead to a servants’ staircase, and eventually, emerged onto the second floor near the library.

Were it not for the light of an almost full moon beaming in through the windows along the corridor, you might have missed the library doors altogether, but as it was, they illuminated the brass fittings so that they gleamed like gold, sparkling and winking at you almost fatefully. You scoffed at the thought, and pushed into the library, the door giving its usual raucous yelp on the hinges.

“Gods, I’ve got to get Naril to look at that,” you grumbled, moving across the floor and wondering if you dared turn all the lights on. Part of you expected a hoard of ghostly spectres to be drifting around the shelves like shades through gravestones.

Before you’d gone three paces, you froze. The whisper of a page turning caught your attention, and you swallowed, heart thudding. Again, you were not alone in there.

“Who’s that?” a sharp, male voice demanded from a table at the back of the room.

“It’s me,” you replied, immediately realising how stupid a thing that was to say to someone who wouldn’t have been familiar with you. You added your name, and followed it up with, “I’m working on the library catalogue.”

“At this time of night?” the scratchy baritone growled.

“I left my phone in here,” you said weakly as you stepped around a bookshelf and found him standing behind the furthest research table from the door. You knew immediately who it was, and your heart was thudding as you wondered just how well the lord of the manor would take it that you were sneaking about his house at this hour of the night. “I need it for my alarm in the morning.”

“It’s over there on the windowsill,” he said carelessly, moonlight running along his outstretched arm like mercury. From what you could see of his body, silhouetted against the light from outside, he was unhealthily thin, and he had long hair that fell loose and unrestrained down his back. He was also huge. Sarrigan was squat, fluffy as a tarantula, and muscular, but this figure was spindly and ominous, and built like a black widow.

“Thank you,” you croaked. “I’m… I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

As you picked up your phone from the sill, you heard him clear his throat, and glanced up to see him shifting a little. He looked like a nightmare demon from a shadow-play, all legs and pendulous body, but something about the angle of his head gave you pause.

He took a slow, rasping inhale. “How… is the work going?”

“Slowly,” you said with a rueful smile. “Mr. Ambleside might be a little out of touch with the collection… It’s larger than I was expecting.”

After a pregnant pause, the drider snorted softly and you broke into a nervous laugh at the innocuously-spoken innuendo.

“Anyway, on that note, I’ll leave you to it. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he said and you watched him walk towards the window. As he moved, you realised what was unnerving about him. One of his legs was missing. Where most driders had eight legs, he had only seven.

You thought about him all the way back to your accommodation, and even after you’d set your phone on your bedside table and lain back to stare at the ceiling, the master of the house still occupied your thoughts.

The next morning, you found your feet taking you to that furthest table, and there you discovered that a book had been left open.

The poem that graced these pages was older by many centuries than the one about the moon. It was written in a language that had long evolved beyond recognition, but you stared at it and trailed your fingers down the verse, murmuring the words aloud in the Old Tongue. It was one you’d studied at university during one of your shorter modules, and you barely remembered any of its translation.

Oft him anhaga are gebideð,

metudes miltse, þeah þe he modcearig

geond lagulade longe sceolde

hreran mid hondum hrimcealde sæ

wadan wræclastas. Wyrd bið ful aræd!

You frowned, muttering words aloud until you’d muddled out a tiny bit of it. “Often, the one who is alone finds grace for himself, the… mercy…? The mercy of the lord? Although he, sorrow hearted… heavy hearted?”

“‘Sorrow-hearted’ works,” came a now-familiar voice from behind you and you jumped, nearly knocking the book from the table. This time you turned to find the drider advancing on you in full view.

Slowly, you let your eyes slide up his body to his face. He wore a crisp white shirt that looked like it had never been worn, the stark, monochrome contrast with his black spider’s body almost jarring. His hair was black, with a thick streak of bright, blood red falling around the right hand side of his face, which was gaunt and sallow, with dark shadows beneath his four red eyes. Around his right two eyes, his white skin was stained dark - almost purple - down his face and a little way onto neck, the birthmark looking like a swirl of watercolour. He blinked slowly at you, as if expecting something; waiting for you to say something rude or thoughtless.

With a start, you remembered the poem, and turned back to it. “Was this what you were reading last night?”

“Mmm. You’ve studied the Old Tongue I take it?” he said, and you turned to find him approaching slowly.

You tried not to let your gaze snag on the void where his leg should have been, and instead looked at the text again. “A little, and it was a while ago. I’m rusty… I think I remember this one. It’s called The Wanderer, isn’t it?”

He nodded, his hair sliding forwards like a black theatre curtain to hide his sunken face. “Not going to chide me for leaving it unshelved?” he sneered as he turned and headed once again for the back of the library. “I never did like librarians, you know?”

Grinding your teeth, and forcing yourself not to snap something rude at the person who was technically your employer, you said, “I’m an archivist, and this is your collection, not mine. One book being out of place is hardly going to though the whole thing into chaos, is it?”

He froze, on the point of leaving, and with an almost theatrical slowness, he turned to regard you. After fixing you with his eerie, red stare, he lifted one side of his upper lip and snarled, “I suppose not.”

And with that, he left you alone and unnerved again.

Work progressed at a glacial pace on the library, but you eventually moved from poetry to non-fiction: travel journals and histories, geographical texts and maps.

Naril grabbed you one bright, weekend morning after breakfast and dragged you out into the gardens for the first time. The two of you spent a couple of glorious hours touring the kitchen garden, the walled garden, the rose garden, the knot garden, and finally the orchards and arboretum. As the pair of you walked, hot and honestly quite tired, back up to the house for refreshments, your eyes naturally found their way to the library windows that overlooked the terrace and lawn at the back of the house, and you were surprised to find them flung open.

You paused and scowled.

“What?” Naril asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I was sure I closed the windows last night…” you murmured.

“Maybe the master is in there,” he said. “You know, I think you’ve seen him more than I have now. What’s he like?”

“Sad.” That was the first word that came to mind. “He strikes me as someone who’s incredibly sad. I’ve only seen him three times now, but each time he seemed so bitter and prickly. It’s like he’s curious about what I’m doing in there, but he doesn’t want to talk to me too much.”

You passed beneath the windows and slid into the house, sighing as the air of the cool stone passage wafted over your sun-warmed skin. No more than an hour later, you found yourself back in the library, but the master wasn’t there and the window was shut again. Easing yourself down into a comfortable chair beside the casement, you let your head loll against the back, and wondered if he ever set foot outside. If Naril was to be believed, the drider never left the confines of his wing for anything other than quick trips to the library.

After a while, you found your eyes drooping, and you inhaled deeply, letting the weight of a doze seep through you like the warmth of a hot bath.

A noise stirred you, and you opened your eyes to find that the light had changed to the vibrant magenta of a clear sunset, and that you were not alone. Squinting at the shelf, with his face far closer to the books than yours needed to be to read the titles, was the lord of Widowsweb Court.

You watched him in silence for a moment, not sure if he knew you were there or not, and took in the lines of his black legs - skinny, barbed, and deadly. The chair creaked as you sat up straighter, and he whipped around, dropping the book with a bang onto the floorboards and rearing up, his front legs rising like lances ready to strike.

“Sorry,” you gasped. “I didn’t mean to make you jump. I didn’t know you hadn’t heard me.”

As he lowered himself back down, you looked up into his face and the expression you found there made your heart stop. He looked furious. “Get out,” he barked. “If you’re not working in here, get out.”

Without another word, you rose and fled the room as sedately as you could muster.

Part Three --->

To be continued next Wednesday… Part Three is currently up on Patreon so you can read it right now on the Pixies and Goblins Tier.

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

#drider #male drider #exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster x human #drider x human #male drider x female reader

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nerdypanda3126 · 3 years

Text

Playing with Fire – Ch. 8

So two things: first, I did write a little interlude between last chapter and this one, and you can find it here.

And second, in the part with Luka's journal, he's in a dark place at that point in his life and there's some suicidal ideation in there. If you'd prefer to skip over it, you can jump over the italicized parts, and as far as I know that's the only time it'll pop up in this story 💖

Read on Ao3

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“You want to find my family?” Luka asked incredulously as he held a branch aside for her to walk past.

He was tired, and so was she; they’d been walking all night, but Luka had insisted they needed to put as much distance as they could between them and the tower while they still had the cover of darkness. By the time the sunlight was able to filter down to them through the canopy, she suspected it was closer to mid-afternoon and they’d been up for a full twenty-four hours. He’d been stuck in his mostly-human form for the longest he’d ever had to endure it. Maybe not an ideal time to bring up her plan, but…

“We’re already running for our lives, we don’t have a home to go back to, at least not for a while, so… While we’re out wandering anyways, I thought…”

“We’d lead an angry mob straight to my mother and sister?”

She rolled her eyes at him. Definitely not the best time to bring up her plan. “You’re cranky when you’re tired,” she noted, letting her own irritation slip into her tone. He grunted back, but it was more of a challenge than an assent.

“Besides,” she pushed on, ignoring the way he bristled, “it might take a while to find them. How long do you think the townspeople will follow us, anyways? My guess is they get to the tower, see it’s empty, and turn around and go home.”

“I’m not worried about them,” he grumbled. “There’s a certain friend of yours who didn’t seem ready to give up anytime soon.”

If he had venom, he’d injected it into the word “friend.” She winced at his bitter tone.

“Okay, so what’s your plan? We wander the wilds aimlessly chasing our tails for the rest of our lives?”

He faltered and glanced over at her. The way he seemed so unsure made her realize he’d never had a plan. At least not past “stay alive and wait.” This was all new to him; he didn’t know what he was doing or where he was going. They’d traveled in as much of a straight line as was possible away from the tower, but other than that… he was lost.

She drew closer to him and threaded her arm through his as an apology. He laid a hand over hers as he took her meaning and sighed.

“Where would we even start?” he asked, his voice small in the quiet of the forest around them.

“There have to be other towns nearby, and I’m sure someone would remember seeing dragons flying around 18 years ago.”

“More townspeople…” he grumbled again. “Great.”

She squeezed his arm in sympathy and they walked in silence for a while. She could feel the weight of the plan starting to fall on his shoulders, the idea of asking around, relying on humans, how long it might take. In truth, she hadn’t realized the enormity of the undertaking until she’d proposed it to him and now she could agree that it sounded impossible.

“Maybe they’ve been waiting for you, too,” she dared to say.

He let out a quiet laugh. “Ma wouldn’t, her treasure is the open skies and she wouldn’t wait for anyone.” He paused to think, then sighed. “Juleka might, though.”

“Your sister?”

“Mhmm. We were close when we were young. Before…” His eyes slid over to her and he let it drop. “She might’ve followed Ma at first, but I’m sure she wasn’t happy with the decision to leave me behind.”

“What’s she look like?” Marinette asked, her curiosity overtaking her. He’d never talked about it before, but for once he seemed open to the topic. He smiled wistfully as he tried to remember.

“A lot like me, I guess. Except, you know…not...” He gestured to himself, to his human form. “Unless she made the same mistake, but I doubt Ma would’ve let that happen again. And she’s taller than me, or at least she was when we were little. Maybe it’s changed a bit, but she was always kind of a lanky thing. Ma’s pride and joy, though, if I’m honest. It’s her fire. Most dragons have some variant of red; it’s rare enough to get blue fire, but Jules…” He shook his head, that wistful smile growing as he remembered. “Jules had violet fire. Unheard of, really. You’ll see when you meet her, she’s—” He caught himself then as he realized what he’d said. “If, I guess,” he amended quietly.

She squeezed his arm again and smiled over at him. “When,” she agreed. “When I meet her.”

He half-shrugged, but his smile warmed when he looked over at her. Before she could stop it, she yawned loudly and he laughed as one took him over, too.

“First things first,” he said when it subsided, looking around at their surroundings. “We need to find a place to camp.”

***

Later that evening they found a cave.

Marinette had laughed a little at the prospect. Dragons, caves, towers, curses. Her life was sounding more and more like a fairytale turned inside out. Wasn’t there supposed to be a shining knight that rescued the damsel in distress from the terrible, fire-breathing dragon?

But she didn’t feel very “in distress” as Luka joined hands with her to remove his stone and sighed with relief when his transformation took hold. She didn’t feel very in distress as he blew a small ring of fire into the floor of the cave, patting it down as he went to create a smooth, warm, bowl-shaped indent for them to curl up in together. And the only distress she felt as she tucked herself into his coils was her racing heart and trembling hands as the kiss they'd shared came back to her. He blinked up at her, sensing her hesitation, and uncurled a bit as if he intended to stand.

She shook her head and laid her hand on his back, reassuring him, then took a moment to run her fingers over his scales, admiring them in their full splendor. Even though they were pitch black, they caught the bare light of the cave and glinted back at her like he was wearing a solid coat of jewels. They turned softer towards his belly, finer, more like the scales of a snake that she was used to as opposed to the armor he wore on top.

As she continued to touch him, he let out that noise again, a small satisfied hum, and laid his head over his claws as he closed his eyes.

His wings fascinated her. There was a solid joint of muscle on each side where they met his shoulders, as thick as both her fists put together, but the wings themselves seemed so fragile—she could see her hand through the delicate skin stretched thin between the bones. And yet they were able to hold not only his weight but hers, too.

She felt it when she hit that sensitive spot that had made him ticklish before. Something like a chuckle rumbled through him and his wing flinched away from her reflexively, but he didn’t pull it out of her hands. That spot was along the side of the bone she’d been tracing, the longer one that nestled into his side when they were furled. She did it again out of curiosity and a shiver ran through him.

She tried to remember what she’d read about dragon anatomy. But instead she was imagining how it must feel to him. Maybe something like if she were tracing the ridge of his shoulder blade when he was human.

When she looked back at him, his eyes were still closed, like he was pretending to be asleep. She knew better, though; his breathing was uneven. As much as he was trying to hide it, he was hyper focused on her every move.

She let her hand trail down his arm until she found one of his huge, rough hands. She picked it up despite his small grumble as his head shifted, and marveled at the largeness of it. The pad of what would be his palm was as big as her face, and the curved ebony claws reminded her so much of the hawks she’d seen in her life that she knew they were deadly. But his were each as long as her entire hand.

As she set his hand back down, he opened an eye to look at her. She watched the slit of his pupil as it dilated to capture as much light as it could in the gloom of the cave. And the fiery blue that surrounded it was the same as the tuft of hair along his neck and at the tip of his tail.

She should be frightened. Luka in this form was danger personified. Everything about him should have made her adrenaline spike. Should have made her want to run away or try to fight for her life.

But as he blinked at her again, probably trying to understand what she was thinking, all she saw was… Luka. The same soul who had promised her mother he would take care of her, who had offered his life to her, who had saved her when she was too small to even know to be afraid.

No wonder she’d still had dreams of sleeping curled up next to him. When she looked at him, at all of him, all she saw was safety and home. And as he tucked his wing around her like a blanket, she couldn’t imagine a safer place than right next to him.

***

She grumbled awake when the light hit her eyes the next morning. She’d have to talk to him about getting curtains or something to cover that damn opening while they slept. She curled away from it, trying to press her face into Luka’s scales, but her nose was hitting something warm, and breathing, and...smoother than she expected.

Her eyes flew open as she realized her lips had touched skin.

It was later than normal and they’d already switched. Luka was human beside her. His arm was draped around her waist, she was curled up against his chest, and she had just nuzzled into his neck and brushed her lips against the hollow of his throat. She froze, but he was still solidly out, snoring lightly every so often, his arm a heavy weight around her.

The night before rushed back to her. Fleeing the tower, their long walk, the cave they’d settled into for the night… and Luka. His dark hair was falling over his eyes, and those dark circles had returned after only one night of missed sleep. His lips were parted slightly as he breathed and he looked so peaceful she almost wanted to reach out and touch him if only to make sure he was real.

But she didn’t want to wake him. So as carefully as she could she extracted herself from his embrace and stood to stretch, realizing that all their walking from the past few days had caught up to her. Before she did anything else, she retrieved his stone from where he’d left it and slipped it around his neck so her flames didn’t attract any attention. Or worse, set anything in their temporary shelter aflame.

They’d need to find food and water, but exploring their new area would have to wait until Luka woke up. For now she settled on taking inventory of what they’d brought with them, munching on a piece of bread from her parents’ bakery as she did. She froze when his lyre fell out, making an awful twang against the cave floor, but Luka only muttered in his sleep and rolled over.

When she continued searching through the bags, her fingers caught on the leather of his journal. Another glance at Luka proved that he wouldn’t be awake for a while yet; losing sleep as they traveled had hit him harder than her. She walked as close to the entrance of their cave as she dared and sat in the light to read.

The first few pages were mostly unintelligible. Scribbles and squiggles as Luka struggled with the quill and ink. Then came pages of the alphabet, unsteady at first, and traced over what must’ve been Jagged’s handwriting. The letters got stronger, more confident, and then on the next page, his first written word. Just his name, but she could almost see the pride he must’ve felt in accomplishing that one word. It stood alone on the page. She imagined a young Luka running out to show Jagged his hard work, beaming with the joy of learning a new skill.

Then other words started to fill the pages. Jagged Stone, fire, bond, wings, rabbit, trap, tower. Naming things around him, sometimes with little drawings that accompanied the word.

But then she saw the word “bakery.” Her breath caught. That wasn’t a word that Luka would be familiar with unless…

Underneath that was a sentence. “My bonded lives in a bakery.”

And as the pages went, she found more little tidbits about her life interspersed between Luka’s practicing. “My bonded has blue eyes.” “My bonded has black hair.” “My bonded likes the color pink.” “My bonded likes flowers.”

It seemed he’d tried to learn as much about her as he could, but either Jagged never told him her name or Luka never asked because every one of them started with “my bonded.” She wondered if he did it on purpose. It seemed like something he would do. Waiting not only to meet her but to hear her name.

He’d filled the next page, and it looked like a letter. Addressed to her. She glanced back at him, but he was turned away from her and she couldn’t see his face. She remembered how he’d stiffened when she asked if she could read it before he’d brushed it off as nothing. But he did say she could read it…

So she did.

***

To My Bonded,

You probably won’t ever get the chance to read this. I’m not sure why I’m even writing it other than I guess if the worst happens maybe there will be a small piece left of me that I can hope you would come to know.

From what I know of you, I think you might be someone who would listen.

Firstly, I don’t blame you if you’re angry with me. It probably hasn’t been easy on your end and I don’t know how much you’ve been told about our situation. Which is the worse curse, I wonder, knowing everything and waiting to see how it unfolds or knowing nothing and having to make a decision. Either way, I guess it’s really my fault anyways.

As for the second thing. I don’t know that I’ll have the chance to show you so I want you to know. I do care for you. Deeply. Sometimes that scares me because I don’t even know your name. The only thing I remember is seeing your eyes that day I rescued you. When they opened, when I knew you were okay, I was so relieved that I hardly even noticed your eyes were blue until Jagged reminded me years later. But they are, aren’t they? I wonder if they were like that before, or if maybe that’s another part of me that stayed with you.

I’m both dreading and hoping for the day I get to see those eyes again. Maybe when that day comes I can explain myself and apologize and tell you all this in person. Until then.

Yours, Luka

---

Bonded,

I didn’t think I’d write to you again. But Jagged told me today you had a ‘crush’ on someone in your village. A taylers boy, although I don’t know what that means. He told me about the fire too. He didn’t really have to. I felt it. I felt how your heart hurt and I wanted to go to you. Maybe I should have. I was afraid.

Jagged said you were fine, that you would be fine. But next time I feel that, I’m coming to you. Scared or not.

Yours, Luka

---

Bonded,

I am sick of this place. I’m sick of this tower and sick of the waiting and sick of feeling like I’ll be stuck like this forever. I thought you’d come for me. Aren’t you curious about me? Don’t you know by now what’s happening, why I’m still here, that I’m waiting for you? Or maybe you’re staying away because you know. Maybe you want it to be this way, maybe this is your choice.

I don’t mean that. If you knew I’m sure you’d be here already. I guess I wish I knew how much longer it’s going to be like this. How much longer I’ll be waiting for you.

Yours, Luka

---

Dear Bonded,

I keep writing to you for some strange reason. It’s a sort of comfort, knowing that you’ll probably kill me before you get to read any of this. I’m sure that’s your answer now because your village has started sending men to kill me instead. They come up from your village anyway.

It’s okay. I get it. You’re probably scared of me. The rest of them have been so I can only assume you think the same. I haven’t let them win yet. For now there’s still a small part of me that hopes you don’t know anything about this. That it has nothing to do with you. For now anyways.

Yours, Luka

---

Bonded,

I hate the taste of blood.

Yours, Luka

---

Dearest Bonded,

This is my last letter to you. I can’t keep doing this. The men keep coming. I’ve tried everything to get them to leave me alone, but nothing seems to work. And I’m tired. I know you’re probably not coming. You won’t come. Even if you did, you’d be here to kill me. And I had every intention of giving you that choice, but I’ve made my decision. The next time those men come I’m not fighting anymore.

If you do find this. If you do come for me. I’m sorry. I’ve loved you with every breath.

Yours, Luka

---

Dearest Bonded,

I’m a coward. Or a fool in love. Either way, I’m still here. I have to have faith in you.

Yours, Luka

***

She jumped when a hand landed on her shoulder. Luka laughed as he sat down behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist to press his chest against her back and lay his head on top of hers.

“Dramatic, wasn’t I?” he asked, still chuckling. As much as she could she swatted at his hand with the journal.

“You scared me! You shouldn’t come up behind someone like that!”

“We’re the only ones here, who else did you think it was?”

Damn him, she could hear his satisfied smirk in his voice. She swatted him again for good measure, even as he pressed a kiss to her hair, but his last two letters were still sharp in her mind.

“Why’d you stop writing?” she asked, flipping through the many blank pages that were left. She felt him shrug behind her.

“I didn’t see much point to it, really. Either you’d come and we’d live happily ever after and I could tell you everything myself or… not. And it wasn’t like I ever expected you to want to read it if things went badly.”

“How long after this…” she started, but she lost her voice halfway through. She had to swallow hard past the lump that was forming to find it again. “How much longer did you have to wait for me?”

He was quiet for a moment and he rubbed his hands up and down her arms, probably trying to soften the blow.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said softly.

“It does to me. Luka, if I’d known any of this—why didn’t you let Jagged tell me?”

He let out another of those soft laughs behind her and his breath ghosted across her neck. “He wanted to. We fought about it a lot. But I figured that would only make you feel… obligated.”

She thought about that while she stared at his last entry. Of course it was impossible to think what she might’ve done, or how she might’ve felt because she only knew what had happened. The series of events that led her to him. The nightmares and the flames and thinking she was a curse to her family and her village. And up at the tower Luka was dealing with his own nightmare. He’d almost given up hope and when she did come to the tower she’d almost proved him right.

His arms tightened around her as if he could sense where her thoughts had gone. As if to prove he was okay and it turned out alright. She pressed back against him and could feel his heartbeat thudding steadily through her own chest. Maybe he was right. Maybe it didn’t matter. They were together now. That’s what she’d told him. To stop blaming himself for what happened. She didn't blame him for anything and at the very least he'd already forgiven her, too.

She turned in his arms and slid her hand behind his neck to pull his face down to hers. As she pressed her lips to his, it felt like a promise. A promise that he’d never have to be apart from her like that again, bond or not.

He melted against her and for a moment they were both lost in each other, in the knowledge that in this moment they were safe and together and that was all that mattered.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #mlb fic #lukanette #Pro LukaMari #lukanette endgame #endgame lukanette #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #dragon!luka #LBSC Exchange 2021 #fic title: playing with fire

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mearcatsreturns · 3 years

Note

15 for Abby/Luka

For reasons ;)

Under a cut because it's long.

July 2003

To: Luka Kovac <“[email protected]”>

From: Abby Lockhart <“[email protected]”>

Subject: I’m drowning and praying ghosts are real

Dear Luka,

Something about knowing that I’ll never talk to you again is just unbearable. I’ll never laugh at your malapropisms, look into your beautiful eyes, feel your strong hands holding mine, or make love to you again. There won’t be any more jokes about jam and cheese on toast, or you teasing me for my weak but constant supply of coffee. I’ll never hear your amazing, deranged laughter after you prank someone again. No more of your hugs—which are somehow the best hugs in the world. Because you’re gone.

It’s been three days since we got the call telling us you died thousands of miles from home, whether that’s here in Chicago or in Croatia. I didn’t know your dad’s name, Luka. We needed to call him, and I didn’t know. How did I not know? And now I can’t. I mean, L’Alliance told us his name, but the fact that I’ll never learn pieces of your history, of the wonderful man you are, FROM you...how am I supposed to go on and live my life?

For years, I’ve thought medicine was my great thwarted love. I’ve wanted to be a doctor for so long, and I thought I was bitter about having to let go of that dream. Now I wonder. I let obstacles get in the way of pursuing medicine, and it’s made me...well, it’s part of why I was so unhappy. But that makes me think about how I also let obstacles get in the way of us. I was happy with you, you know, until I let fear and my mother and Carter get in the way. God, I wish I could do that over again. We could have had everything, and if I hadn’t gotten in my own way, I’d be happy. I think maybe I could have made you happy, too.

It’s funny. I knew things with Carter weren’t working, and he implied you were part of it. I said it wasn’t, but then five minutes later, I found out you were—are—dead. And I realized you were the reason, or one of the big ones. As soon as Chuny told me, I knew I loved you and had loved you for years. Yeah. Great timing, isn’t it? I keep thinking that maybe I could have kept you from going if I had known or if I had told you. I didn’t want you to go when I thought you were my very attractive friend and ex that I still was fond of. Knowing that I love you—how do I move past that? Knowing that I lost you, first to my stupidity and then to death?

I just...I miss you, and I don’t when I’ll stop, or how to. Susan caught me crying on my last shift, and I didn’t even know what to say. I feel like I’ve been crying or standing still, brittle and stuck in time, since I heard the news. I can’t, Luka. I know I have to keep on moving, and I thought maybe writing you would help. I know you’ll never see this, never have a chance to respond. But the idea that some fragments of your soul linger and can maybe sense...I don’t know. That I’m writing? What I’m feeling? Jesus, this is crazy.

All my love,

Abby

Abby angrily swipes the tears from her eyes. God, what’s the point of writing this? He’ll never see hsi email or her again. Just...without Luka, how can the world be anything but grim and sad and pointless?

She laughs mirthlessly. Maybe it doesn’t matter. No, she knows it doesn’t. Because Abby knows the futility of it, aches with the meaninglessness, she presses send without another thought.

&&&

Three days after that, a miracle occurs. Luka, the Lazarus of this new millennium, comes back from the dead. He’s never been dead, and maybe, Abby thinks, there’s a God above after all. So many people wish for this exact boon, and she—they, the world—gets it. Some higher power believes this planet is a better place with Luka Kovac in it, and Abby is ecstatic.

Until she remembers the email and that they can’t be unsent.

It’s fine. She’ll be fine. Luka is coming back, apparently with a French nurse. Maybe he’ll just delete it without reading it. Maybe it didn’t go through—how does email work for the dead, and how quickly is all that processed?

Abby shakes her head. It doesn’t matter; Luka is alive and returning to them. She can handle a little awkwardness in the face of the sheer joy of knowing the world is a brighter, kinder place. He’s coming back, and that’s what’s important.

&&&

August 2003

It takes Luka almost a week after returning to Chicago to convince Kerry and the other staff to let him go back to his apartment. Even so, they only agree when Gillian assures them she’ll see to his every need.

Abby winces when she hears that, and it makes something flutter in Luka’s chest. Which probably isn’t good for his malaria, but the hope...that is.

It’s another two days of lying in bed before he has the energy to ask Gillian to bring him his laptop. At this point, it’s been months since he’s checked his email, and Luka grimaces at the undoubtedly horrible state of his inbox. He briefly considers never checking again and just getting a new one, but he knows his father struggled to add him to his contacts once already. To expect it of him again would be absurd.

With a sigh, Luka opens his email. It’s just as bad as he feared. He snorts at the myriad messages about Viagra, Nigerian princes, and Russian brides, deleting them without thought. He saves a couple from his dad. He slowly whittles down his inbox, but he freezes when he gets to one email in particular, sent about a month ago.

It’s from Abby, during the time everyone thought he was dead.

Luka considers calling and asking her if someone hacked her email or is sending spam from her account, but the subject line...it looks real. And Abby’s been odd around him lately, seeming both deliriously happy to see him and awkwardly nervous.

His heart pounds, and he clicks to open it. If this is a spammer, they’re probably about to get whatever they want.

&&&

Abby pours herself another coffee, internally swearing as she prepares for the last two hours of her shift. Deciding to go back to school is great; having to coordinate all the details is less thrilling and leaves her tired and cranky.

Frank ducks his head into the lounge, beady eyes narrowing on her. “Hey, Abby. The Croat is on the phone for you. Line 2. Try to get back out there as fast as you can, Weaver’s yelling at the med students about IVs.”

“Okay, Frank,” Abby says, though she flushes and her palms start to sweat. It’s fine. She can always hide the panic and butterflies in her stomach with sarcasm. It has yet to fail her.

Frank gives her one last suspicious look, then nods and heads back to Admit.

Abby takes a deep breath, then picks up the phone. “Hey, Luka?”

“It’s me. Glad I could reach you. How are you?” He sounds...ugh. So good. And eager and happy, and her heart could leap right out of her chest.

“Doing all right. I just have a couple hours left on this shift, and it hasn’t been too awful today. Only one MVA. How about you? You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Recovering. Listen, did you want to come over for dinner?”

“Please tell me you’re not trying to cook.”

“What? I’m a good cook, even if you don’t appreciate wonderful, traditional Croatian dishes,” he says with a chuckle.

“Luka, you just got out of the hospital five days ago. You still need to be resting.”

“Abby, don’t worry so much. I was just kidding. I have some sandwiches from Manny’s, and Anna sent me home with lots of matzo ball soup too.”

Abby bites her lip. Of course she wants to go. But the prospect of spending the evening with Gillian cooing over Luka, knowing that she shares a bed with him, is decidedly less appealing. And there’s the email she sent, which Luka hasn’t acknowledged. He might well have deleted it, or he’s giving her a gracious out.

Her conscience twinges as soon as she thinks about bailing, though. Didn’t she promise herself she wouldn’t take life for granted anymore? She’ll go back to med school, she’ll have dinner with Luka when he asks.

“Abby?”

She starts, realizing she needs to respond. “Yeah, sorry. Yeah, I can do that. I can be there an hour after my shift, if that’s okay.”

“Sounds great. Looking forward to seeing you.”

“Me too.” He has no idea how much, even if she wishes she knew for sure that he’d deleted the email.

&&&

Abby rings Luka’s doorbell three and a half hours later. She’d meant to come straight from work, but after a patient vomited on her, she decided to head home, shower, and splurge on a taxi to Luka’s. The poor man is recovering from being deathly ill and doesn’t need County’s fumes making things worse.

There’s the sound of the deadbolt sliding, and Luka answers the door, grinning happily at her. “Good, you made it! Come on in!”

“I did. Sorry it took me longer than expected.” Abby steps into his apartment, looking around. It’s been such a long time since she’s been here, and she notes the subtle changes in the art and decor.

“No worries. I know how it goes.” He places a hand at the small of her back, guiding her inside.

Abby stiffens for a second at how his touch burns even through the layers of her shirt and light jacket, but she relaxes, enjoying the feel while she waits for Gillian to appear and end the fleeting joy.

Luka is unfazed. “Now, of course we can just eat the sandwiches, but if you want to heat up the matzo ball soup, you can. Since you don’t want me standing,” he says with a wink.

Abby smiles back, shaking her head. “Oh, I see how it is. Make the woman who worked all day do more household work when she gets ho—wait, where’s Gillian? Isn’t she supposed to be taking care of you?”

“She’s not here,” he says simply.

Going to the fridge and taking out the containers of soup, Abby places them in the microwave. Is Gillian out for the evening, or is she gone gone? “Shouldn’t you be with her? Or her here with you, whatever.”

Luka is quiet for a long minute, and Abby wonders if he intends to answer. Finally, he breaks the silence. “I asked her to leave.”

Abby’s pulse speeds up. “What? Why?”

Luka takes a deep breath, clearly ready to respond, and—

The microwave dings, and they both jump. Exchanging a sheepish look, they laugh.

“Look, let’s get some food, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Abby dishes up their soup and sandwiches, preparing trays so they can sit on the couch. Luka turns on the television, and Abby’s heart rate comes back under control. They sit together in companionable silence while they eat and watch Thom and Jai and the rest of the Fab 5 whip some hapless lawyer’s life into order. When they finish their meal, Abby cleans up, taking the trays back to the kitchen.

She heads back to the couch at the opposite end from Luka, not daring to get closer when she really has no idea what’s going on.

Luka clears his throat and mutes the TV. “So, yeah. I asked Gillian to leave.”

“Oh. So, um, did you break up?”

“She was never my girlfriend, really. She has a boyfriend back in Montreal, they just…” Luka shrugs and runs a hand through his hair.

Abby is more lost than ever. “Ah.”

Taking a deep breath, Luka continues, finally looking over at her. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful she helped me get here and took care of me, but we were never serious.”

Something starts to tug at Abby’s heart, squeezing and twisting and kicking to get free. Is it...hope? “Well, I’m glad she got you here safe, but you should have someone staying with you while you recover, Luka. Malaria is dangerous.”

He gives her a look. “I know how dangerous malaria is. I’m getting better. And besides, it wouldn’t have been fair for me to ask her to stay when things are over because I’m in love with someone else.”

Her heart leaps into her throat. “Someone else?” she squeaks.

Luka nods, swallowing. “Yeah. And I have a reason to think she might be in love with me too.” He slides over to her side of the couch, reaching for her hand.

Abby meets his eyes—those beautiful green eyes that are the best color in the world—and squeezes his hand, incapable of words. Does he mean…?

With his other hand, Luka reaches up and cups her cheek, running his thumb along the subtle arch of her cheekbone. “Abby, if you’ve changed your mind since you sent that email, please tell me to shut up.”

That stupid, ridiculous email might be the best thing she’s ever done in her life. She leans into his hand, licking her lips as she shakes her head slightly. “I haven’t changed my mind. I didn’t mean for you to see it and hoped I could learn how to hack computers and delete it but—”

Luka cuts her off. “I would never forgive you if you managed to delete it. You wouldn’t believe how much faster I healed after that.”

Abby leans forward, sliding into Luka’s waiting arms. “Then maybe I’ll write you some more emails.”

“Emails aren’t what I want right now,” Luka says.

Funny, Abby doesn’t either. Then his lips brush hers, and all her worries and fears fade away. She knows she has to tell him about med school and he needs to finish recuperating, but when Luka deepens their kiss and pulls her closer, Abby ceases to think at all.

She has Luka back, and now they have each other again.

#er #nbc er #er ff #luby #luby ff #abby lockhart #luka kovac #<3 #my fanfic

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voiceless-terror · 4 years

Note

all those sleep prompts are so killer and such big jon vibes!!! i would love to read anything on "- a character who refuses to share a sleeping space with anyone else, and it’s because he doesn’t want to disturb others/doesn’t want pity/is ashamed of his nightmares" with jon. bonus points if tim is involved and extra bonus points if tim also has experience with insomnia/nightmares, either himself or used to taking care of someone in his life with those issues...

Hey there! Here I am, finally writing the promised Jon/Tim that I should have written ages ago. Feels good to be on this train! I’ve placed this in pre-canon, when Jon and Tim are researchers and have just started dating. Hope you like!

“That was...really nice, Tim. Thank you.”

“Thank you? Jon, we split the check,” Tim throws an arm around his shoulder and it’s heavy and warm in all the right ways. “You know my policy on that. The person who asks you out pays the bill! Ergo, me.”

“I know, I know,” Jon relents under the pressure and burrows into Tim’s side. The wine’s gone to his head, he’s sure of it. Shouldn’t have had those three glasses. But the waiter was so attentive and Tim’s smile was infectious so he couldn’t help but say yes, of course, thank you, to every pour. “I just...I really enjoyed myself, is all.”

“I did too,” Tim’s voice goes to that soft, fond register he’s only just started using with Jon. Before it had been all gregarious charm, winks and nudges that he used interchangeably with friends and acquaintances alike. When Tim first asked him out, Jon thought he was joking; he rolled his eyes and went back to work, ignoring Tim’s look of hurt. Jon was used to practical jokes of this nature- he’s not exactly an attractive prospective partner, and several people have implied he was more trouble than he was worth. But a week later, on their usual coffee run, Tim offered to buy him dinner, his voice serious and shy and utterly unlike him. The look in his eyes was genuine and Jon had to say yes; who could refuse him, in the face of such sincerity?

It’s been a month and they’ve fallen into a sort of routine. Every week is a new spot- Tim’s a bit of a foodie, and he overheard him making a list of places with Sasha. It took up an entire page in his notebook, and Jon wonders if Tim will get sick of him before they finish it.

He stumbles on the sidewalk and Tim catches him with a steady hand on his waist. The cold air should be bracing but it is not; his dizziness increases two times over and it’s a long journey home. Tim knows this, which must lead to his next suggestion.

“You can spend the night at mine,” he says, voice purposefully light. Jon freezes. They hadn’t broached the topic yet, but he thinks Tim has some sort of idea. Rumors abound in research, after all. Tim must notice his nervousness because he stops walking, turning to face Jon with that same unbearable sincerity.

“Nothing untoward, I promise,” Tim says, and Jon believes him. Tim hasn’t lied to him yet. “I just don’t feel comfortable putting you on the tube, and you’re a long way from home while I’m right around the corner.” Jon still doesn’t respond, so Tim continues. “No pressure, honestly. I could call you a cab, it’s not a big deal-”

“No, that’s-that’s too expensive.” Living in London is hard enough, especially on a researcher’s salary. But to spend the night at Tim’s, as innocent as it may be, fills him with dread. There’s a reason he lives alone. There’s a reason it took him almost a year before he stayed the night at Georgie’s.

Sleep has never been kind to him.

Jon has nightmares. Terrible, horrifying visions of make-believe that leave him screaming and crying and choking on his breath. Georgie had been about ready to call an ambulance the first time she witnessed it, but Jon was able to talk her down.

“These happen every night?” she’d asked, her face a mix of pity and concern.

“Not every night,” he insisted. It was true. If he stayed up late, working himself to exhaustion, he could usually manage a dreamless sleep of at least five hours. But that came with its own difficulties; crankiness, irritability. It put a strain on most of his relationships.

Tim, though- Tim is kind and understanding. Beneath the mask of sociability and flirtation lies a serious, determined person. Compassionate, loving, but in a quiet way and with small gestures. He makes lists. He puts in time. He asks Jon what he wants when they go out to eat and he doesn’t laugh or roll his eyes when Jon carries on for too long.

“We can go to your place,” he whispers. “I-I think I’d like that.” Tim smiles and hooks an arm through his and Jon knows he’s made the right decision. Maybe tonight will be different. Maybe the wine will dull the terror that rules most of his life. The night is dark and Jon’s flat is cold and lonely.

Tim’s flat, on the other hand, is warm and cozy. It’s neat and organized, but cluttered enough to give it personality and charm. There’s a couch calling his name and he answers it, practically collapsing in the cushions as Tim lets out a little laugh.

“No going to sleep yet,” he instructs and Jon can’t help but let out a groan. The warmth and safety of the spot and the closeness of Tim has suddenly made him comfortably tired, and he’d like to slip off to sleep in this pleasant haze. “Not until you’ve had some food and water. I’ve even got those crusty little granola bars you like so much.”

“They’re not crusty,” he grumbles, his voice stifled by a pillow. But he’s not in a fighting mood and his mind’s currently swimming with the fact that Tim stocked his favorite snack.

“Very crusty, indeed,” Tim’s nudging him up into a sitting position and forcing water into his hands. “Drink up!”

“You’re very irritating, I hope you know,” Jon says as he leans his head onto Tim’s shoulder. Tim makes for a comfortable pillow.

“Aw, you love it.”

Maybe he does.

By the time he’s choked down the last of the bar, his eyes are fluttering and he can’t keep in his yawns. Tim puts a warm hand on his arm and it burns pleasantly as he pulls him up. “Time for bed, I think.”

The words startle Jon out of his haze and he blinks his eyes open, focusing on Tim’s gentle smile. “Er, I think-” he doesn’t want to disappoint the man, but he would rather be as cautious as possible. “I think it would be best if I slept out here.”

“On the couch?” Tim asks, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Oh- would you rather sleep alone?” Tim doesn’t seem too miffed about it, just confused, so Jon answers as honestly as he can.

“Yes.” He doesn’t want to, not really. But he needs to.

“Alright,” Tim agrees easily enough. “But you should take the bed, then. The sofa’s comfy but I know you have a bad back-”

“It’s fine for one night,” Jon responds. Forcing Tim to sleep on the sofa in his own flat seems terribly selfish.

“If you’re sure…”

“I am,” Jon assures, trying to convey his affection in a gentle smile. Tim returns it.

“I’ll just get you some sheets, then. Change of clothes, too.”

By the time Jon’s head hits the pillow, comfortably attired in Tim’s old joggers and t-shirt, he’s already half asleep. He thinks Tim’s already left the room but then he feels the warm pressure of a kiss to his forehead.

Perhaps he dreamed that, though.

__________

There’s a thread and it’s pulling Jon forward.

It’s not comfortable. Jon would rather stay here, in the library, surrounded by books and dim lights and knowledge he has control over. But there are whispers in the hallway, and someone’s telling him to go, go, go.

And go he does. Down stairs, so many stairs, more stairs than the institute ought to have. There is something watching and something pulling; Jon is being split in two and somehow this is worse than actually seeing the spiders and the eyes that have haunted him all these years. This, he feels in his soul. Something is at stake.

There’s a door. This is how it always ends, you see- with a door. And Jon’s fist, small and childish and grubby, raises to knock against the wood. It echoes too many times as Jon tries to step back, get off this porch and out of this nightmare but it is too late, the deed is done and the door is opening and a single, spindly black leg creeps out of the door hello, Mr. Spider-

“Jon!”

There are limbs holding him but it’s not the many-legged creature of his nightmares- they’re familiar and strong even as he thrashes against them but someone is screaming and the sound is haunting and painful-

And it’s him. Jon wrenches his eyes open to find himself safe and sound, held in place by Tim’s arms. His heart continues to stutter and he wheezes- Tim’s got a hand on his back and a soothing murmur going.

“You’ve got to breathe, Jon. Slow.” Tim takes his shaking hand and puts it to his own chest. “Like this. In and out. There you go. Nice and slow.” The words are calm and practiced; Tim’s done this before, with someone else. As his heartbeat resumes a normal rhythm, he wonders who.

There’s a hand on Jon’s face, gently wiping away tears he wasn’t aware he shed. Tim’s eyes are far-away, sort of, like he’s just going through the motions, slow and loving. “There we are,” he says as he finally meets Jon’s eyes. “Better now?”

“Y-Yes,” he croaks back. His hand is still gripping at Tim’s shirt but he doesn’t let go until the reality of the situation sets in. “Oh God- I’m- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you-”

“Is that why you slept out here?” Tim asks, his voice patient. “Does this happen a lot?”

“M-More than I care to admit.” Jon feels a sudden need to explain himself, to let Tim know he tries to keep it under control as best he can. “I’ve tried everything- tea, therapy, p-pills- it doesn’t work.” A note of frustration creeps into his voice. “Something doesn’t want me to sleep, I guess.”

“Just thought you were a workaholic, to be honest,” Tim pulls him into his side and Jon melts, the tension slowly leaving his body. “Should’ve known better. We work at the Magnus Institute, after all.” The laugh that comes from both of them is bitter. “D’you want to sleep in my bed, maybe? Just- just for company. I’ve been told that helps.”

“I-I don’t want to wake you.” The argument is weak and the both of them know it.

“You already have, love.” The endearment slips out unnoticed by Tim, but Jon hears it. “You’ll wake me either way, but I’d rather you didn’t wake up alone.”

“O-Oh.” There’s a lot of care in those words. Jon doesn’t know what to do with it, except agree. “Yes, I’ll- if, if you don’t mind-”

“Wouldn’t offer if I did.” He wouldn’t, Jon knows. Tim always means what he says when it comes to him.

So they curl up in his bed, an arm slung across Jon’s waist, his back to Tim’s chest. There are no spiders here, not in this bed that smells of dryer sheets and detergent and Tim. He’s almost asleep when the arm around his waist tightens suddenly.

“My brother always said the pressure helped. When he had bad dreams.” Jon opens his eyes.

Tim never mentioned a brother; it never came up in any of their conversations. Tim knows Jon is an only child, that he was brought up by his grandmother and had a lonely childhood. He didn’t realize, in all of their time together, that he knew so little of Tim’s own background, besides his publishing career.

Nobody liked to talk about what brought them to the Magnus Institute. It was like some unspoken rule, some shared trauma that somehow kept them all silent and apart.

“Your brother?” he whispers, turning over to see Tim’s face. Its dark, but he thinks he can see a brightness in Tim’s eyes like unshed tears.

“Danny.” Tim says the name like he’s asking for forgiveness that Jon can’t give. He sees a tear drip down the man’s face and he reaches for it, just like Tim did before. “He was...he was my little brother. And he was so, so good.” Tim’s voice breaks and something in Jon breaks too. “And something took him from me.” His expression is hard but his hand reaches out to lovingly trace Jon’s face, as if trying to memorize its shape.

“I’m sorry,” Jon knows his apology is not enough, that it will never fill the gap in Tim’s heart. Instead, he finds words spilling from his lips, as if sharing his own pain will help too. “I-I saw someone get taken, once. I didn’t- I didn’t love them, but- but it was because of me.” Tim’s hand is in his hair, tucking a curl behind his ear as his voice wobbles. “It should’ve been me.”

Tim draws him close and squeezes; Jon buries his face in the crook of his neck and inhales. “I’m glad it wasn’t you, Jon,” Tim whispers as he runs a hand down his back. “I’m glad it wasn’t you.” Jon isn’t Danny and Tim isn’t offering him absolution but it’s fine, for tonight.

Jon doesn’t dream.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27494077

#prompts #karliahs #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #tim stoker #jontim #precanon #hurt/comfort #angst

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ezekielbhandarivalleros · 3 years

Text

Addicted to Weed - Chapter 1

Characters: Jake Tweneboah (MC), Sienna Trinh, Jackie Varma (Mentioned) Ethan Ramsey (Mentioned)

Summary: Sienna finds out about Jake’s weed problem

Rated - M

Taglist: @princess-geek @gamechoices-player @secretaryunpaid @arnikki-2406 @choicesficwriterscreations @riana-drarry @treasure-seeking-elf @lisha1valecha @yourresidentplayer @schnitzelbutterfingers

Also thanks for @secretaryunpaid for helping me make the necessary changes and editsl

Jake let out a sigh of relief as he stepped through into his apartment. Quickly he locked and dead bolted the door, and slid the security chain into place. After nearly three years at the hospital he never entered his apartment without immediately doing those three things. He turned on several lights and moved to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee brewing before dropping himself onto the couch.

Jake retrieved a cup of coffee and settled himself into the couch. He kicked off his shoes to display his mismatched socks as he loosened his tie. He was very glad to be home, but at the same time it increased his anxiety. While he was an introvert and did enjoy spending time alone with Jackie, the last few months had been hard. Lately when he was alone he turned to Weed, but for the past two weeks he had been trying to avoid using it. He hadn't been very successful. He had tried to wean himself off slowly, but once he had taken a small dose he usually got to the point that he didn't care and ended up taking more. Already, though he had only just gotten home, he felt his eyes drifting to the bathroom where he kept the drug hidden. He gripped his coffee cup tightly, trying to fight off the urge to use.

He thought briefly about calling one of the team to see if they wanted to go out for something to eat, but quickly decided against it, deciding he needed the rest of the evening to relax. Jake sighed and put his cup on the coffee table. He rubbed his face and again his eyes drifted to the bathroom. He was so tired, but he knew that he probably wouldn't be able to sleep without some help. He groaned and leaned back on the couch, and tried to distract himself by watching random videos on Youtube.

Abruptly he stood and crossed to the bathroom. He tore open the medicine cabinet and pulled the last of the weed out of its hiding spot in a box meant to hold cough syrup. Not that he really ever had anyone over to his place besides his old roommates, but he still wasn't careless enough to leave it out in the open. He tossed the box aside and unscrewed the top of the bottle. He held it wavering in his hand. He wanted desperately to just tip the bottle to empty the contents into the sink and be done with it. He had had this battle with himself many times before. Two times he had even succeeded, but then found himself calling his dealer only hours later to gain more.

Jake ran into his and Jackie’s bedroom and pulled out pieces of rolling paper and made blunts. Jackie was the only person who knew that he still smoked as he told the others that he quit a few weeks ago. He remained on the floor for quite some time, feeling no desire to move back to the living room with the tv still on.. He was perfectly content where he sat, enjoying the feeling of nothingness and after a while he dozed a bit. He didn't know how much time had passed before he heard a knock at the door. It had probably hadn't been more than an hour or two. He tried to ignore it, but whoever it was knocking was persistent.

Groaning, he rolled to his knees then used the edge of the bed to pull himself to his feet. He legs felt rubbery, so he stood there for a moment to steady himself. He looked at his reflection and stifled a giggle. At the moment he found looking in the mirror incredibly funny, but he wasn't entirely sure why. It felt somewhat surreal, looking at himself. The knocking at the door became more persistent. He sighed. It was probably was one of his friends. No one else ever came to his home this late.

He cringed as his door was pounded on, and this time was accompanied by a voice. "Come on, I know you're home. Please open the door." Jake sighed heavily. Sienna. Of course it was her. Anyone else would probably have given up, but she would be there until two in the morning, still knocking if he thought that was home. Jake shook his head and made his way down the hallway slowly. He hadn't even made it halfway when Sienna knocked again, louder.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Jake called out. He made it to the door and fumbled with the locks, struggling with the security chain. It took several tries for him to be able to slide it free. He swung the door open. "What are you doing here, Sienna?" he asked, not bothering to try to hide his irritation. "Hey, grumpy much?" Sienna smirked and raised her hands. Jake didn't respond except to glare and gave a roll of his eyes. "Aren't you going to invite me in?" "You've never been out this late before. Why did you decide to just show up in the middle of the night?"

"Somebody's cranky when his beauty sleep gets interrupted." Sienna pushed past Jake into the apartment without his invitation. He held up a brown paper bag. "I left the office about an hour after you did and I thought I'd stop and grab some Chinese at that really good restaurant and then realized how close I was to your place so I figured I pick some up for you and Jackie and bring it over here, but as she’s asleep you can have hers”

"That restaurant is almost seven miles from here, Sienna," Jake said.

Sienna didn't seem fazed as he walked into the kitchen and rummaged through the cupboards for paper plates not caring if she woke Jackie up. "I got those egg rolls that you like." "Okay, I see we're just going to pretend that you showing up here is normal," Jake grumbled. He followed Sienna as he brought the plates to the dining room.

Sienna looked around the luxury apartment, taking in the well-used but comfortable looking furniture and the many shelves housing hundreds of books and the one shelf that contained dozens of science fiction DVDs. " I can definitely tell that you live here and It shows that mostly everything belongs to you."

"It's my apartment, Sienna. Was it supposed to look like someone different lived here?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You usually reserve this level of hostility for occasions."

Jake blushed and looked away. "Sorry. I'm just tired."

Sienna shrugged. "Sit down and eat."

"I'm not really hun—"

"Sit," Sienna interrupted. "Eat." She ordered.

Jake dropped into the chair, looking a bit like a child who had been reprimanded for something. He grabbed one of the egg rolls and took a small bite.

"I'm fine," Jake said quickly.

"How often have you been using the drugs?" Sienna asked conversationally.

Jake looked up, the expression on his face giving the impression of him being a deer caught in the headlights. "What are you talking about?" he asked, voice a little higher than usual.

Sienna pushed his plate of food away and leaned forward, elbows on the table, and his face suddenly deadly serious. "You're high right now, aren't you?”

“Hey, I was still eating that” Jake screamed.

Jake laughed, the sound slightly hysterical. "Sienna, you- you're confused. I-I'm not-… I don't-…" he sputtered, trying to keep the smile on his face. "That's crazy," he finally managed to finish.

Sienna's face was still locked in that serious look. "I'm sorry, kid. I knew something was going on with you, we all did. I thought maybe it was PTSD. But we all left you to deal with it on your own. We should have been there for you. I should have been there. I should have seen. I'm sorry."

The faux smile fell of Jake’s face as she spoke. He dropped his eyes to the table, seeming to struggle with himself to find the words. It looked as though he was trying to decide if he wanted to admit to the drug use or to continue to try to deny it. The internal battle waged for nearly a minute before he looked back up. "Pretty stupid thing to do for someone who's supposed to be a genius isn't it?" he smiled, but it was bitter and self-deprecating.

"Not stupid. Not really smart either," Sienna sighed, looking at Jake his dark eyes troubled. "It's Weed, isn't it?" “Jackie has been telling me.”

Jake nodded, almost imperceptibly, avoiding eye contact. Morgan wasn't reacting to this in a way he had expected. There was no yelling, or threatening. No accusations or anger, only a weary acceptance. "I stole it from one of they younger interns after their first week and got hooked, not even my brother whose a year above me knows. After I ran out I bought my own. I t-… I tried to stop. I really did. I threw it out twice. But I always-… I always got more afterwards." He ran a trembling hand through his hair.

"How often do you take it?"

"Usually only once a day, but I don't take it at all if we're working a case," he elaborated, shooting a quick glance at Sienna.

"Why do you only take it when you're home?" She asked him. She was still acting much to calm for Jake to understand, and things that Jake didn't understand made him nervous.

Jake shook his head. "If the other know, for sure Ethan might have to report it, and you'll be fired. I won't tell him as long as you stop."

Jake looked desperate. "I've tried before, Sienna. I don't think I can do it." He looked so hopeless that it almost made Sienna want to cry.

But she didn't. Instead she leaned forward and put his hand on the older man's shoulder. "Yes, you can, and you will. You've only tried by yourself before. Now you've got help. You don't have to be alone anymore."

#playchoices #choices #oc #sienna trinh #open heart #jake tweneboah

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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

Sugar and Coffee [7]

Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 7.5 OR Chapter 8

➜ Words: 2.7k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

You thought about it over Winter break. While baking and laying around your dorm room, you’ve come to a self-revelation. You spent only a week in Jungkook’s hometown before coming back for the other two, not wanting to intrude on his family too much, and during that time, you’ve re-discovered a strengthened will. You’ve decided to abandon your unproductive heartache in favour of nurturing a new ambition, a new eagerness to flourish and thrive, and make the most out of your time here. And Jungkook is surprised to see this fresh enthusiasm. “You’re here early.” He steps into the kitchen to see you crouched over the counter with notebooks and textbooks sprawled out, already studying at the beginning of the semester. “I know.” You lift your head to grin at him. “Just thought I’d get a head start. Don’t slack just cause we’re in the same class, Jeon. I won’t always give you notes when you skip.” He approaches with a small smile. “I’m guessing the rest of your Winter break was good.” “It was alright. It’s nice to sleep in. How was yours?” “Lia and Eunbi kept crying when you left. I swear my family likes you more than they like me.” “Naturally,” you taunt while batting your lashes. “I’m just so likable.” “Uh-huh.” But that still doesn’t explain why you’re humming and smiling to yourself. It’s only eight in the morning and he wonders where the usual Little Miss Cranky went. “Did something good happen?” “What do you mean?” “You’re giggling to yourself.” “I’m not giggling.” You feign a glare. “I’ve just...found new motivation to work harder. I thought about it a lot and….” “And?” “I’m going to get back with Seokjin,” you declare. Jungkook’s eyes are wide and you smile. “I’m going to catch up and become someone worthy of him. Someone he won’t be able to let go. I’m going to work my hardest, so he can be proud of me.” “Huh.” The boy nods. “Well, good for you.” “Psh, what’s with the bland response. Listen, you better look out, Jeon. I’m going to make the best portfolio ever to submit at the end of the semester.” He grins. “Okay.” You return to your work, finishing up reading the section while humming to yourself. Jungkook glad you found a new vigour to strive and do your best — but he can’t help feeling unsure of your reasoning. He’s pretty sure that this isn’t it. // The lectures and hands-on workshops at the very start of the semester are always the blandest. Introductions are done, course outlines are looked at, and the professor drones on and on about the course’s expectations and what the assignments and examinations will look like. Jungkook isn’t exactly enthused to hear what he’ll have to get done in the coming weeks. And it’s in this very boredom that he knows he doesn’t need to say anything about your new-found determination. Eventually class will wear you down like it does for everyone, and you’ll become indifferent again. You’ll come to your senses one way or another. But to his surprise, you’re still very much jolly after classes. “It hasn’t been one day and classes are already fucking me in the ass,” Taehyung groans. “Hey, guys!” You plop down with Jungkook beside you. “I missed you. How was Christmas break?” “It was good.” Hoseok looks up, appearing utterly exhausted with dark circles lining the area beneath his eyes. Yoongi actively glares at you. “You’re chirpy.” Much to his dismay, you laugh. If Yoongi was a dog, he’d probably bite you. Jimin smiles. “Did something good happen, Y/N?” “Actually, yeah. I just realized some things over the break and I just have more motivation to work hard, you know?” “Can you give me some of that motivation?” Taehyung groans. “What does it take?” “A fear of flunking and getting kicked out should be more than enough motivation,” Yoongi deadpans. “What’s your motivation, Y/N?” Hoseok asks, the corner of his mouth curling. “I…” You glance at Jungkook, not sure if you should tell them the truth. But after a moment of hesitation, you go for it. There’s nothing to hide. “I’m going to try to get back together with Jin.” At once, you receive mixed reaction — Jimin goes blank, Taehyung lifts his head off to the table and Hoseok’s brows are raised, lips tight. He’s the one who breaks the silence. “Wow, that’s great, Y/N.” You grin. “I know, right?” “How are you going to do that?” Taehyung looks at you. “If I can ask…” “I’m going to improve myself and become someone he wants, someone worth him.” “But is it really up for you to decide?” Yoongi asks out of the blue, piping up as he chews some chicken in his cheek. The black-haired man looks at you lazily. “It takes two.” “Yeah, but I can try, right?” You shrug your shoulders, wearing a small smile. But Yoongi doesn’t accept what he hears, not in the way you want him to. “He dumped you, didn’t he? What makes you think he’ll want you back?” “I—” Taehyung steps in before the situation can escalate. “Yoongi.” But the tired man ignores him, his eyes piercing, even if he gazes at you languidly. “You think you can change him or change what happened?” “I love him.” Your eyes are glossy and there’s an overwhelming urge to block out your ears. Yet Yoongi scoffs. “Okay. So what? Who says you won’t be dumped again?” “Yoongi, chill it, dude,” Taehyung intervenes and Hoseok is also alert, trying to change the topic to no avail. In the meanwhile, Jimin is caught in the conflict and rendered speechless, but what hurts most is that Jungkook doesn’t defend you. He doesn’t utter a single word of support. “Is it so bad to want him back?” “Yeah. If he doesn’t want you back.” He shrugs. “It would be more productive if you get on with your life, got better and showed him what he missed out on. Trying to get back together with him makes you look desperate.” “I never asked for your opinion, Yoongi.” “Fair, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t hear what I have to say. Plus, I’m just asking you questions and as of yet, I haven’t heard any answers, Y/N,” Yoongi bites back. It’s not like the friendly banter that you have with Jungkook. What Yoongi says is painful to hear, heavy on your heart. It’s argumentative with intentions to prove himself right, confrontational in a way you’ve always avoided. “Why are you setting yourself up to be hurt again? Don’t you think you deserve better than that?” The group falls into strained silence. The tension wraps itself around your throat, robbing your breath from your lungs. Nothing is spoken, no one utters a word. They stare at you as if they’re waiting for a response, for your justifications. But they don’t need to hear it — it’ll sound like a broken record. They’ll never don’t get it — how much you love Seokjin. How much you miss him. How much you want him back in your life. Someone who used to be your best friend, who was your entire world, your person, and how he’s turned into a complete stranger. “Alright, guys. Let’s just agree to disagree, okay?” Taehyung laughs stiffly, trying to dial it back. But you abruptly stand, grabbing your tray of food. “Y/N.” Jungkook grabs your arm before you can walk away. You don’t face him. “I have some stuff to do. Catch you guys later.” After dumping the tray, you walk out of the building before they can see the tears in your eyes. And they watch your backside until you’ve disappeared from the dining center. “You’ve really done it now,” Hoseok chides Yoongi. The male shrugs. “Was I wrong? She needed to hear it from someone and apparently I’m the only one willing to be the bad guy.” // You continue to march across campus with no destination in mind, merely attempting to find some peace and quiet. You tear open the door to the west wing, sniffling as your breath heaves, and at your hasty pace, you fail to notice another person walking in the opposite direction until your shoulders collide with one another. “S-Sorry.” The rounded, short girl regards you with bright eyes, wearing a white apron and jeans. “It’s okay—oh, Y/N, right?” “Do I….know you?” “I’m Yoo Aeri. We met each other on orientation day, remember?” “Oh my god.” It was four months ago, but you can vaguely recall the first person you befriended. You were so happy that you met someone friendly that you told Seokjin right away, even if you forgot to exchange contact information. “I remember now. I’m so sorry I forgot, my mind lately is just…” She laughs. “Don’t worry about it. I actually switched into the culinary program recently.” “Oh, really? That’s super cool. I heard it was hard.” “It is a little, but the Baking and Pastry Arts program is a lot more competitive. I just found it wasn’t for me.” “I know what you mean. I can get pretty tough.” Aeri smiles and you realize she’s holding a plastic wrapped plate when she thrusts it towards you. “I’m actually walking around right now to see if someone wants to eat this — It’s seared salmon I made in class, but I made too much. As usual. Do you want to have lunch with me?” You’ve never had such a proposition before. “I’d love to.” // 8:12 pm. Jungkook: is the plan still on? Every so often when Jungkook’s sick of you complaining about the vile food at the dining hall, the both of you go out to grab a bite to eat off-campus. His wallet cries but he has to admit that it’s fun. Tonight though, you haven’t knocked on his dorm room yet and he hasn’t been in contact with you since lunch. Jungkook wonders passingly if you’ve permanently ghosted him — if so, he doesn’t know why he’s being punished for Yoongi’s actions. 8:14 pm. Y/N: oh yeah sorry 8:14 pm. Y/N: not tonight The moment he gets the message, his brows shoot to his hairline. Jungkook audibly groans. You should’ve told him sooner. He can’t get a good meal in the dining center when it closes in just fifteen minutes. But Jungkook wonders if you’re underneath your covers crying, if you’re really that weak willed to be broken down so easily by a few words from Yoongi, but then— 8:16 pm. Y/N: made a new friend Wow. So you ditched his ass for someone else — now Jungkook has zero sympathy for you. With the annoyance of a lifetime, he grabs his coat and decides to go out anyways. He doesn’t need you. He can enjoy a perfectly good meal off-campus by himself. It takes Jungkook fifteen minutes by bus to get to the bustling street. He enters the cozy pizza restaurant down the block that you’ve both gone to a few times and orders takeout. He waits at the front playing a game on his phone to pass the time, hoping he can get home soon and enjoy the food in the comfort of his own bed. But Jungkook’s ears perk when it catches loud voices that draw his attention. He naturally lifts his head. It’s a mistake. He can’t even act that he doesn’t know them, that he didn’t see them, not when his eyes connect directly with Jin’s and they look at each other. Yet, to Jungkook’s surprise, the older man stops with a smile. “Hey!” The best way to describe his relationship with Seokjin was that they are acquaintances — similar to how he would’ve called you, excluding the recent months. Jungkook knows Jin from high school, saw him in the halls but they seldom spoke to each other. They hear things about one another but that’s the furthest extent of their interactions. Until now. “Are you here alone?” “Yeah I’m just grabbing some takeout.” Jungkook awkwardly hitches a thumb over his shoulder. Seokjin nods, plump lips naturally pouted. “Were you in the area?” “Not really. I came from school.” “Oh, that’s actually pretty far. I’m surprised you didn’t just do delivery.” Jungkook’s doe eyes double. He feels like an idiot. “Oh shit, actually?! I didn’t know they had delivery!” He could’ve saved himself half an hour. Seokjin grins. “Yeah, but it costs an extra two dollars.” “Guess I’m saving money then.” He feels bitter. Sincerely, you are the curse of his life. Jungkook would’ve never been in this situation if he didn’t feel a need to imaginarily prove you wrong in his mind. “Jin!” One of his male friends calls out, signaling him over as the waitress shows the rest of his friends to a table. “I’ll be there in a minute.” Jungkook can kind of understand the sad state you were in after the breakup. Aside from Seokjin’s handsomeness that even renders Jungkook speechless at some angles, it’s evident that Jin has a good personality. He’s friendly and warm, despite being an acquaintance. And Jin never once treated him poorly even back when he had his feud with you. “Want to step outside for a minute?” Jungkook asks. “It’s kind of loud in here.” “Sure.” The two of them exit the restaurant and become enveloped in the chilly air. It is quiet out here, almost too quiet. They can finally hear each other properly but Jungkook finds his thoughts are deafeningly loud. “So, what did you end up ordering?” “Three sausage and two pepperoni.” Jungkook’s fond of the way you always call him a meathead as he stuffs his face with it. “It’s my favourite.” “Oh really? I’m more of a pineapple man, myself.” “I’ll admit, I hated pineapple myself until Y/N changed my mind.” Seokjin grins. “She did for me too. How is she, by the way?” “She’s...fine. Enough to drive me crazy.” Jungkook sighs with the force of his entire being and Jin nods with the corner of his mouth quirked. “I'll admit, I was pretty surprised when I heard through the grapevine that you guys became friends. But I’m glad she has someone with her.” “We’re not like that.” Jin hums. “Doesn’t change the fact that she has someone to support her.” There’s a pause. “Can I ask you something?” It’s the reason Jungkook went out of his way to ask him to come outside. He’s curious and maybe it’s not his place to be, but he’s always felt more involved than he should be. Jungkook wants to understand, to clear his confusion, to hear the other side of the story. “Depends on what it is.” Seokjin smiles. “Why did you break up with Y/N?” You had never really told him the reasoning, and he’ll admit it was bizarre when the two of you split. Jungkook always thought you were one of those irritating high-school sweetheart couples that would eventually get married and settle down with one another. The kind of couple that would get their love story posted in the newspaper after their seventy year anniversary. A picture-perfect happily ever after. Seokjin sighs, a cloud of condensation emitted through his parted lips. He leans against the brick wall and looks up at the night sky. “Sometimes...there doesn’t need to be a bad reason or a red flag or some kind of deal breaker.” “Then why?” Seokjin shrugs. “I always felt like Y/N loved me a lot more than I loved her. Always.” “Sometimes, it felt like she put me on a pedestal. Other times, I think I made her feel inadequate. But she was always willing to give up everything for me.” Their eyes connect, Jin’s sheepish and soft. “And for me, I constantly felt like I had to play the part of a good boyfriend, rather than be one because it came naturally. It made me feel guilty. She didn’t do anything wrong. I think I just realized sooner that we weren’t the ones for each other.” A disconnect. Jin liked you — he adored you — but you loved him wholeheartedly with your entire soul. Even now you still earnestly love Jin. Jungkook isn’t sure what to do with the new information. But he suddenly feels bad for you. More than he ever has.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenario #bts fluff #bts fanfiction #jungkook reader insert #jungkook x reader #y'all this is a shorter chapter than usual #but last chapter was also a lot longer than usual #ANYWAYS I hope this gives you the answers you were looking for lol

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mysticalmusicwhispers · 3 years

Note

what’s your favorite headcanon of indchu? what kind of dates do you think indchu would go on?

aaaaa sorry for taking stupid long to answer your ask! I am glad though that we are getting a resurgence in Indchu interest because they deserve it :)

(also the actual headcanon is in the 3rd paragraph... sorry about the long preamble...)

Ship asks!

tw addiction and drugs?

ooh... I already have a couple here, and while it might not be a favorite, I think the most interesting hc is their tension/awkward situation around the Opium Wars. I headcanon China to have had opium addiction starting in about the 1830s and so his head was like, sometimes perfectly clear and sometimes really foggy, which led to poor decision making, detachment from reality, etc. Also his government was kinda rotting and was another hit to his health and well being as a nation personification. Meanwhile India was grappling with the East India Company’s strengthening hold on him and the unsustainability of growing opium and other cash crops instead of actual edible stuff, and a lot of upheaval in politics as well. And when 2 people are tired, bruised, and faring badly politically, it leads to snarkiness, lashing out, and general crankiness associated with tiredness, which is a nice atmosphere for misunderstanding.

Additionally, Wang Yao is someone who’s constantly scheming and expects other people to be doing the same and looking for a way to stab their friends in the back, coercing and blackmailing to get what they want, pretty manipulative. Because India’s opium was getting shipped to China to fuel the illegal opium trade, and there were (according to Wikipedia, so I’m not sure if it’s accurate) around 7,000 British Indian troops that fought on behalf of Britain in the 1st Opium War, I think when he found out India was on Britain’s side and against him, he kinda thought India had betrayed him? China thought India had finally decided to suck up to Britain and sorta left him to fend for himself—that obviously wasn’t true, but given how Yao expects others to always be playing for their own interests AND his fog of opium addiction, he probably would’ve believed it. India on the other hand: I think he reluctantly and resentfully went along with Arthur,,, there was no choice besides to go along with the East India Co and march into China when he was ordered to. I think there was a little apprehension; India has known China long enough to realize he might feel betrayed by this, but there was nothing he could have done.

I imagine them meeting somewhere near Guangdong/Canton, probably in some restaurant/tavern and having a rather tense conversation, but one that cleared up some misunderstandings, mostly on China’s end. Yao is very hostile and sort of butt hurt at first; they start talking vaguely with all the general niceties (India: “I haven’t seen you in a long time.” “And I you.” China speaks slowly, each word falling like heavy stones in a pond. His voice is scratchier than India remembers (and he thinks about China’s flute-like laugh he’d heard, centuries ago), but the acid sharpness is still the same. He doesn’t say anything else, and the silence stretches on, a chasm of awkwardness growing between them. India clears his throat. “You look... you look-” “I know the state I am in. But thanks for the compliment, British India.” China’s voice is biting and bitter. India grimaces, perhaps from the insult of ‘British India’, which he has not accepted yet, or perhaps from China’s rebuke, but hides it almost immediately with a blank face. “You are welcome,” he says, and somehow his voice sounds sincere enough to stop it from sounding like sarcasm. And China looks up, and his face is momentarily absolved of its sour, tired expression, and for once, he looks genuinely confused.) Then they somehow travel to important topics after some food and maybe some baijiu on China’s part, and they just,,, really talk and release the tension that has resulted from not seeing each other for a long time. They talk about what’s changed, and their interactions with the West, maybe rag on England’s absurd ways of everything, and it’s a little bit of a pity party + mutual understanding + just a time to catch up on the things that have happened to both. By the end of it both of them are still assured that yes, deep down the other is still the snarky neighbor they’ve had for centuries, just perhaps a little worn, and a little ragged. They part ways, because the First Opium War will not be resolved by 2 of the 3 nation personifications involved talking it out and sharing memories over a table; India goes back to playing his part as England’s almost-colony and assistant in a war he has no interest in, and China falls back on a fog of opium and goes to see what the Daoguang Emperor has been up to and how badly his people are losing to England.

slk;fd;safdjksfkj I don’t think that was a headcanon but yeah... I just want a fic of someone exploring their interactions around the time of the Opium Wars and hope it won’t have to be me lol

As for date ideas, I think just going to a cheap restaurant (Yao is stingy and usually doesn’t really feel like paying lots for food) and people watching would be something they’d do. An alternative would be cooking each other’s food/trying new recipes/fusion cuisine at one of their houses; I know it’s very cliche, but it just feels like their thing. I don’t think they really care about romantic dates but aren’t really the type to do super fun, adventurous stuff lol; they’re both old men who don’t put any effort into dating anymore (but are still charming when they want to be; 4,000-5,000 years of living doesn’t count for nothing). But also lowkey I can see them going into a mall or something and just wreaking havoc, playing pranks on people and the poor cashier, trying on all sorts of crazy clothes, etc., or going to a flea market/open air market and just wandering around, looking at cool things, clothes, little trinkets, stuff like that

They are both magpies; sorry I don’t make the rules

#thank you for asking! this was a really long rant tho so i hope you don't mind #it was fun to answer #aph china #hws china #aph india #hws india #indchu #ask musings #musings #anon ask #answered #aph china headcanons #indchu headcanons #headcanon musings #i guess #aph india headcanons #ship asks #aph india musings #aph china musings

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bregee13 · 3 years

Text

A New Home

It wasn't before long until the Raposa family wandered into the snowy fields. At first the snow barely dusted the grass beneath their feet, but eventually the snow became almost knee deep. It was a good thing Polly thought of bringing blankets with them. Even then, the three wished they had the time to change into warmer clothing.

Polly, while squeezing her dad's arm for support, shivered uncontrollably. "D-dad??? Why did-didn't we u-use the S-snow G-gate...?"

Nixie, who was also freezing, couldn't help but glare at her husband. "That's a g-good question, Polly! Bobby, why DIDN'T we use the snow g-gate?"

"Nghh..." 'How's this my fault? Movin dis way was YOUR idea...' As much as Bob wanted to say it out loud, he was much too tired to butt heads. Besides, after trudging through the snow for that long, you almost HAD to blame somebody. Though, if he didn't say anything, Nixie would freeze him to death before any snow could. "Well, if we w-went through the snow gate, we could've walked right i-into darkness. A-and dat wouldn't be fun, would it?"

Nixie, who was starting to remember her plan, felt her cheeks flush a little more than they already were. Though embarrassed, she welcomed the extra warmth on her face.

"B-but.... Why did-didn't we go to th-the dock?? A-and r-ride a boat somewhere?" Polly asked, hoping asking more questions would distract her from the cold.

Her mother shook her head. "N-no... We couldn't have done that. The d-darkness might've covered the dock by then..."

"M-might've!?! Y-you didn't k-know?!"

"I...I... Um... f-figured there wouldn't be any more boats sailing to and from there anyway... With all this darkness, of course... Of course...."

"Th... That... s-sounds..." Polly tried to call her mom out on her poor excuse, but she was just too frozen to speak.

"Dat sounds like a c-cra... crummy excuse, N-Nix.."

Nixie turned her head toward Bob in confusion. "Wh...what? Are you saying, Bobby?"

Bob stared off into the distance. He longed to go back home and sleep in the warmth of his bed, but he knew that was impossible. "D-dere was no h-harm in checkin first... Ya k-knew dere was a chance of esc-cape dere.... W-what the Rapo stopped ya...?"

"Oh... U-um... You know, um..." 'Well, you didn't bother to check either! Why blame me...?' It took a moment for Nixie to regain some of her composure. She knew she was the only one planning anything out, and that Bob likely didn't even think of checking the docks in the heat of the moment. She actually thought about leaving the village by boat many times. But the one thing that stopped her every time was her fear. "...E-even if there was a way.... Th-there's no way to know what to expect... The o-other villages might be worse off than where we w-were.... There's no way... There's no way...." While she did fear the darkness in other villages, she did have one other small fear that she was afraid to admit. She was scared of returning to her parents after going missing for so long. 'Only Creator knows how those two would react...'

"...Y-ya got a point.... I haven't h-heard from Jack in a real long time... H-Hope he and the folks are alright in Lavasteam... N-nice.... hot..... L-Lavasteam...." 'Rapo... This snow is messin with our heads n' makin us lookin all ridiculous!'

Bob looked back toward Polly. She hadn't spoken for a while now, which was odd for her. On top of that, she was moving at a snail's pace, slowing everyone down as a result. "Polly? Ya doin okay?"

"..." Polly, shaking rapidly, fully relied on her father's arm for support. She had a hard time gathering her words and saying them out loud. She felt horrible. "D-dad....." She cried. "I...I can't feel my legs......."

"Dat can't be good.... Hang on..." Bob walked up to Nixie and handed her the clothes he was carrying. "Hold dis for a s-sec?"

"O-oh... Of... Of course..."

Bob then proceeded to lift Polly off the ground, and carry her in his arms. "Urk!" 'She's heavier than I remember!' "It's okay... you're o-okay... Y-you you're gonna be okay, okay?" He tried to reassure her, but it only seemed to make everything worse. 'Oh Creator, she's real cold....' As worried as Bob was, he knew he couldn't show too much concern. For all he knew, it would just jinx everything. "...Y-Ya got uhh... Um... Bangle with ya? Ah! I..! I m-meant...! B....Bon...Go?"

Polly, squeezing her stuffed friend in her arms, didn't even bother to correct her dad. Though the fact that he caught the mistake on his own really meant a lot to her. "Mhmm..."

"G-good. Dat's good... "

Nixie took the clothes that were handed to her and covered her daughter with them as if they were extra blankets. "There. H-hope that will help s-somehow..."

"Th-thank thank you..."

The three silently continued on their journey through the snow. The bitter wind brushed their cheeks. Eventually, the snow began to die down, and the air was less stiff. The knee-high snow turned into mere frost. Needless to say, everyone was relieved. The ice life is NOT a nice life.

The wide open snow fields slowly turned into a chilly forest. The trees were of a purplish hue and had seemingly no end to them. It was clear that they had entered the forest gate region.

Bob, now getting tired of carrying her around, set Polly down by one of the many trees. "There ya go. Are ya feelin any better?"

Polly slowly nodded. "Y-yeah."

Nixie leaned down to feel Polly's arm. "She's still really cold..." She turned to her husband. "What should we do now?"

Bob looked up at the sky. Even after all that time, was just as gray as it was before. "We gotta get some shelter. Can't rest out in da open..."

"Where are we going to find this shelter, anyhow?"

"We're gon have to build it from scratch... Don't expect nothin fancy, I don't got no tools to work with."

"That's fine... But..." She looked down at Polly before returning her gaze to Bob. "Are you going to be alright by yourself?"

Bob tried to reassure her with a smile. "I'll be good on my own. Don't worry bout me. Just worry bout her."

"...Okay. Just be back soon."

"I will." Bob stepped back from his family and got to work.

Now, Bob may be a carpenter, but he wasn't exactly experienced in wilderness survival. Lucky for the three Raposa, he managed to put a small shelter together out of branches and leaves. And for the restrictions he had, it was relatively spacious. Just big enough for everyone to lay in comfortably.

Nixie had Polly wrapped up in her arms. "How are you feeling, baby? Are you warmer now?"

Polly yawned. "Yeah. I'm okay. I think Bongo's a little tired though. Are you tired, Bongo?"

"..."

"Yeah... He's pretty tired..." Polly's eyes had grown heavy from the exhausting journey she had been through.

Nixie, who was tired as well, softly chuckled to herself. "It seems that you're tired too. How about we get ready for bedtime?"

"Yeah… Okay." Polly stretched.

"Are you well enough to get up on your own?"

"I think so..." Polly slowly started to get up off of the ground. Although her legs were a little wobbly from sitting too long.

Nixie reached out for her daughter in an attempt to stable her. "Are you alright?!"

"I'm okay! I'm okay! My legs are just sleepy."

"Come on, I'll help you over there." Nixie had her arm wrapped around Polly's body, helping to guide her to the makeshift home Bob had made. "Bobby! Is the shelter finished over there?"

Bob looked back at his wife, and sighed. "It's 'bout as done as it's gonna get... Hope it works just fine."

"It looks wonderful. Why don't you take a break and get some rest? It's been quite a long day."

"It is gettin pretty late, huh? Alright. I'll take a breather."

"That's what I wanted to hear! Besides, a good sleep in there will make the perfect test for the structure you made."

"That's true..."

Polly pulled her mother's arm toward the shelter. She was starting to get cranky from a lack of sleep. "Mooom... C'mon! We gotta go to bed! Bongo's really really tired!"

"Alright, Polly! Settle down! We're on our way. Why don't you go on ahead and get ready for dreamland?" Nixie suggested.

"Okay..." Polly yawned. "G'night...." She squeezed Bongo in her arms, and stepped inside.

Nixie glanced at her husband. "We should follow her."

Bob nodded. "Yeah, I guess we should..."

The two stepped inside the structure. The dirt floor was covered in a bedding of grass and leaves, which in turn was covered by the largest blanket they had brought. It was cozy to say the least.

Polly was already laying down, curled up underneath her very own blanket. She held onto her doll as tightly as she could. Her eyes were shut. As far as Nixie and Bob could tell, she was already fast asleep.

“She looks so peaceful…” Nixie whispered.

“That didn’t take very long at all, huh?”

“That journey must have drained all of the energy from her. I don’t believe I blame her.”

“Poor Polly… I sure hope all dat snow didn’t leave her sick…”

“I hope so too. She didn’t seem to be all that ill, just tired. ...I have faith that she’ll turn out alright."

Bob sighed. “Rapo, what’d we do to deserve any of this? We lost nearly everythin, and now we gotta live in this… this… whatever this is!”

“You’re the one who built the shack… I don’t see why you’re the one complaining.” Nixie mumbled.

“...What was that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s fine.” Nixie clearly sounded annoyed. “It’s not a permanent solution, anyhow… We’re not staying too long.”

“...Are you insulting my work?”

“Bobby, please.”

“No no, I get it. I understand! I don’t wanna live here either! Who the Rapo would? In fact, it’s so awful dat any normal Raposa would rather sleep outside on the dirt and die!”

“We may as well be…” Nixie muttered.

“Excuse me?! I worked real hard to set this up! All by myself with no tools, no help of any kind, and you’re talkin to me like that?! A lil while ago, you said it was fantastic. I worked the best that I could under these circumstances, and now you’re mad it ain’t good enough?!”

“Bobby, you know that isn’t what I meant.”

“Really? What else could you have meant by that?! I don’t understand anything you’re saying, Nix! First you said one thing, then you say the opposite? I don’t understand at all...” Bob crossed his arms and hung his head low. His eyes were starting to water in frustration. “...Explain to me, Nix. What’s wrong? What’d I do wrong? What the Rapo did I do to you to make you insult me like dat?!”

“Rapo, you didn’t do anything! Nothing is wrong! Why would you come to the conclusion that everything is your fault?! What the Rapo do you even think you did?”

“I-I dunno… I was just askin you that! Ya can’t just say ‘nothin is wrong’ right after complaining your rear off to me!”

“Well maybe I’m just feeling a little peeved.”

“Peeved?!”

“Of course I’m peeved! I didn’t want this! I didn't want to be forced out of my home, I didn’t want to have to worry about whether or not we’ll make it out of this okay, and I surely didn’t want you to yell at me!”

“Yell at ya?! Nix, you’re da one dat started it!”

“Bobby, what the Rapo are you talking about? I didn’t start anything! You just got mad at me out of nowhere!”

“Out of- What?! I-I would never do dat to you! I would never yell or get mad at you for no reason!”

“Then why are you yelling at me right now then?”

“B-because... I’m mad because you insulted me!” He began to cry. “I’m mad because you decided to be mean at me for no reason! I’m mad… because I don’t understand why you would do that…”

“Bobby?”

“That… that really hurt, Nix… Why would you go and do that?”

“Bobby… I… I’m so sorry.” She gently lifted his chin up so she could see his face better. “I’m sorry.”

Bob looked at her and sniffled. “I don’t understand, Nix. I-I know it ain’t the best I’ve done, but you ain’t gotta be mean about it…”

“I wasn’t trying to be mean to you… I… I was just frustrated. And I ended up saying the wrong thing… I know that wasn’t right for me to snap like that, but… I’m sorry…”

“I know you’re sorry… I know you’re just stressed out. Dat just… really got to me for some reason. I-I’m sorry I overreacted.”

“Bobby… You didn’t overreact. It’s okay. It’s my fault for upsetting you.” She sighed. “We’re both just... frazzled from all of this. I understand.”

“...I forgive ya Nix. I know ya didn’t mean what you said.” He faintly smiled for a moment. “But… There’s somethin I don’t understand. Why’d ya say it looked good earlier? I don’t get it.”

“...You want me to be honest? I... was trying to be polite. I didn’t want something like this to happen. Especially not in front of Polly. ...Wait a minute. Polly!” She turned around to face Polly, hoping that she was fast asleep and didn’t hear anything they said.

Polly, who was watching the entire time, hid under her blanket once she got caught. ‘Rapo! She saw me!’ She then pretended to be sleeping, hoping that she wasn’t in trouble.

Nixie sighed and turned back to her husband. “We really need to pull ourselves together, don’t we?”

Bob nodded. “If I were her, I wouldn’t want my folks arguing over nothin… I’d want em to be happy. I’d wanna be sure that it’s all gonna be okay. ...We gotta do better for her.”

“You’re right. From now on, we have to stay positive. No matter what happens.”

“Of course. We gotta set an example. It’s what Polly deserves. It’s what Hunter deserves too.”

“...Yeah.”

“...I wonder if Hunter’s doin alright. Maybe… Maybe he’s alive somehow?”

“I don’t want to talk about Hunter...”

“Alright, I understand.”

The two stood there for a moment in awkward silence. With all the chaos in their lives, it had been a long time since either of them found a moment of joy. When Hunter disappeared, arguments began to take his place. And with each new horrible event, it just kept getting worse. And that was something nobody wanted.

The two couldn't help but get lost in thought. They truly wanted to set a good example for Polly and be positive, but where would they even begin? It wasn't like there were many positives that came to mind. But neither of them wanted to go to sleep on a negative note, so the two thought in silence.

"...Our anniversary is tonight, ain't it?" Bob broke the silence.

"It is? I didn't know that... Are you sure?"

"Sure I am! I mean, don't ya feel it in the air?"

"...Do you even know what the current date is, Bobby?"

"Ah... No, but you don't know either! It's close enough, ain't it? Besides, dates don't matter now anyway!"

"Well, you're not wrong!" Nixie laughed.

"...You remember when we first met?" Bob reminisced. "You didn't have a home for yourself, and I let ya stay with me."

Nixie smirked. "Oh, how could I forget? It was obvious you fell for me the moment I met you."

"I was, huh?"

She nodded. "...You know, Bobby, it's funny. I feel as homeless as I felt that very day."

"Oh really?"

"Oh~! Mr. Builde, I have been left abandoned and homeless! May I stay here in your fine home~? Only for a short while~!"

"Oh! Are ya sure you want to stay in this shack of mine?"

"Bobby, please. I don't want to start that again."

"Hey, I'm just stating facts here! And to be honest, our home at the time wasn't that much better than this shed. "

"Oh Bobby, stop being so hard on yourself. Come on, why won't you let me inside your cozy home~?"

"Ah.. I dunno~" He blushed. "I think it'd be more romantic out under the stars~" He leaned in for a kiss.

"Bobby! No!" Nixie laughed. "It's too cold out! Besides, the stars disappeared a long time ago!"

"Ah, c'mon Nix! Can't we pretend there's stars?" He smirked. "It'd be just like that one romantic time we had in twilite years back~"

She flushed a bright red. "B-Bobby!" She hid her face and laughed out of embarrassment.

"Oh... I uh... I didn't mean it like that!" Bob blushed from embarrassment himself. "Just... We were so in love back then... I miss it, Nix."

"Bobby..." Nixie held Bob's hands in hers, and smiled. "You know that never went away. We're just... going through obstacles. It's normal. ...Though I admit these latest obstacles are far more extreme than anyone could anticipate."

"That's true, this ain't exactly something I expected to deal with." Bob kissed her hands. "But we just gotta tackle these problems head on, huh?"

Nixie nodded. "We just have to stick together from here on out."

"I can handle that." Bob looked back at Polly, who was asleep for real this time, and turned back to Nixie. "You ready to hit the hay?"

"I'm not sure..." She said, hesitant. "Something doesn't feel right. Maybe it's only my nerves, but..."

"...Ya scared?"

"...A little. I mean, what if something shows up while we sleep and... makes us sleep for good?"

"That's not gonna happen. I won't allow it."

"Bobby, I'm serious. We could get really hurt." She glanced over at Polly. "...Or worse."

"Well I'm serious too. I'll stay up and keep watch for anythin that'll go bump in the night."

"No, you need sleep. Especially after you've done so much..."

"You done a bunch too though." Bob pondered for a moment. "Alright, why don't we take turns then?"

"...That could work. But what if-?"

"Hey, no 'what if's! Just go and get some sleep. I'll watch first." He yawned.

"You know, I'm not that tired." She said before yawning herself. "I think you should rest while I watch first."

"Nah, I've already made up my mind. I'm watching first."

"After all that labor? Aren't you being stubborn? Let me watch."

"Nix. Remember we said no fighting over nothin."

Nixie looked at the ground, ashamed. "...Yes. You're right, I'm sorry."

"Don't worry 'bout it. Now go get sleep. The sooner ya do, the sooner my shift starts. And the sooner my shift starts, the sooner it ends."

"Alright." She kissed him on the cheek. "I'll see you again soon. Love you."

Bob blushed. "Love ya too hun."

Nixie walked further into the shelter, checking her sleeping daughter before laying down to sleep herself.

The two followed through with their agreement and took turns keeping watch while the other slept. Nothing posed threat to them then.

Bongo was held tight in Polly's loving arms. It had been absorbing as much energy as it could, but it knew it only had a fraction of the energy needed to reach it's goal of a long life.

Luckily, Bongo managed to absorb a massive amount of energy a few months back. It wasn't near enough to reach it's goal, but it was just enough for it to go and seek enough.

Bongo had been waiting patiently and desperately for the opportunity to fully feed off it's host, but no good opportunities presented themselves. It wouldn't dare risk everything with other Raposa present. If it failed, it would waste it's precious energy. And if the Raposa found out what Bongo was made to do, it could get destroyed. So Bongo needed to be as careful as possible.

It quickly scanned the area, checking if it's opportunity finally arrived.

It knew there was no longer a town of Raposa to potentially catch it, but Polly's parents were still there.

Bongo considered making it's move while the parents slept, but it would be far too high risk considering how protective they were. And with the new environment, the two were more high alert than usual.

Bongo knew the only chance it had at draining it's host would be when Polly was all alone.

Bongo rested once more. It couldn't drain itself now.

The waiting game wasn't over yet. And Bongo knew if it played its cards right, it would surely win.

#Drawn to Life #my ocs #my writing #Dtl OCS #Polly #nixie #Bob (the Builde)#bongo #*prays Tumblr didn't mess with the formatting too bad*#also it's finally done holy fun #*fuk #Its been... 2-3 years...

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louiseleblancdiggory · 4 years

Text

Once Upon a December

Chapter 4: Things My Heart Still Needs to Know

A/N: So instead on doing this only from Rowan and Aelin’s POV I decided to add a little bit of Lysandra so we know whats happening on the other side of the continent! This was so fun especially because I love a little mystery and a certain character we learn more about here. If I forgot to tag you please tell me. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Chapter 3 // Chapter 5

“Who are you?” Lysandra breathed, completely shocked. The man in front of her eyed her curiously, as if he too wanted to know who she was.

Lysandra usually was careful not to call attention to herself, had learned that with Yrene who had been here longer than she had, but she couldn’t help with this man. Whoever he was, he had to be related to Lin somehow.

“Who’s asking?” His voice was deep, a mix of accents making the words sound like a song. The accent from Eyllwe and… Terrasen?

“I— You—“ Lysandra was, for the first time in her life, completely speechless. Growing up in a poor orphanage in Adarlan, Lysandra always knew what to do or say to get out of a situation. Always had something on the tip of her tongue, usually a lie. But right now all she could do was stare at the turquoise and gold eyes that belonged to her best friend.

And to this man, apparently.

“I usually do leave women speechless, don’t worry.” He joked, a small smile on his lips. When she didn’t laugh, didn’t stop staring at him, the smile dropped and his eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Who are you?” She repeated, eyes wide.

“Aed!” Yrene said, coming from the kitchen. She didn’t realize the staring match Lysandra was having with the man. “It’s been a year since you came by!”

“Hello, Yrene.” His eyes softened, and he smiled at the barmaid. “Who’s this?”

“Oh! This is Lys, she’s new. Has been with us for eleven months now.” Yrene said, patting Lysandra’s shoulders before starting to retreat into the kitchen. “I’m on kitchen duty right now, but Lys can get whatever you want.”

“Hello, Lys.” His voice held humor, and Lysandra slowly came out of her stupor enough to narrow his eyes at him. The necklace around her neck was becoming heavier and heavier.

“Who are you?” She said a third time, her voice harder now.

He leaned in, whispering as if to tell her a secret. “Aedion Ahsryver, milady.” He winked at her.

Ashryver. Ashryver. Where had she heard…. Ahsryver.

No.

“As in royal Ashryver?” Her voice came out slowly and calmly, but her mind was racing.

“As in ex royal Ashryver, yes.” He joked, but his voice held some bitterness.

Lysandra stared at Aedion for a few seconds before turning around. She walked until her hand was on the doorknob to the back door. She opened it gently, closing it behind her with nothing more than a click. She breathed in the air, not even caring that it smelled like piss and trash. She needed oxygen, needed to clear her thoughts. With extremely steady hands, she grabbed her necklace.

Lysandra had always joked that it was unfair that Lin had such beautiful necklace— a series of overlapping circles forming the shape of an eye with a blue stone in the middle— and she had none. So on her seventeenth birthday Lin had taken her to the fair and bought her a cheap locket. The real present was when Lin took her to one of the few photographic stations in Erilea, taking a picture of the two of them and putting inside the locket.

“It’s out family heirloom now. The first one.” Lin had said, a smile on her lips. “Because we are sisters. Maybe not by blood, but you are my family, Lys.”

Now, as Lysandra opened her locket and looked at the picture inside, she didn’t see Lin.

No, she saw the man inside. She saw the fallen royal of a kingdom neighbor to the one she had grown up. She saw the defining traits, the eyes, the mouth, nose and jaw.

Lysandra stared at the locket and didn’t see Lin Sirota.

She saw Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.

Lysandra vomited, barely hearing the approaching footsteps.

——————————————————

Lin was finally alone.

It had been five days since they got in the train and started their way to Banjali. They were currently in the middle of gods-know-where, and Lin had spent most of her day with Gav and Vaughan studying the royal family tree.

And exchanging scornful looks with Rowan, but that was besides the point. The man apparently had decided that he hated her guts with all his might, and Lin wasn’t all that sad about having someone to throw her anger at.

Around four, everyone decided to go to their own cabins and relax before dinner. They had been eating dinner in the privacy of their cabins for the past days, not wanting to draw too much attention. Today would be the first night they would go to the dining room.

Connall and Vaughan had been the first to leave. Gavriel and Lorcan were sharing one of the cabins, Fenrys and Rowan were in the other one and, as requested, she had her own. For forty minutes now she was sitting in silence, Fleetfoot asleep on the floor. The only sound was her fingers playing with the pendant on her necklace.

Aelin had asked if Gav had any books she could read. Most had been geography books, and although she didn’t hate geography, reading a whole book about it sounded brutal. Thankfully, he also had some history ones. With the excuse of keeping her studies, Lin grabbed one about the old royals.

The book was interesting, but Lin was so tired that she was dozing off when a knock came from the door. She sighed, having an instinct of who was knocking in such impolite manner.

“You can’t stay away, can you, Mr. Whitethorn?” She said as she opened the door, and there, as expected, was Rowan.

He had a frown on his face, but the sneer wasn’t there so Lin considered him in a good mood. Maybe he had taken a nap and calmed down, like those old cranky men usually did.

She took a step aside, letting him get into her cabin. As much as she had said she didn’t want to be disturbed by any of them whenever they weren’t practicing, Lin had to admit that she was infinitely curious to know what had brought Rowan here. She went back to her seat and plopped down, grabbing the book again. From the corner of her eye she could see him sitting down, giving the cabin a look that left clear all his discontent and how uncomfortable he was.

That was enough to make her smile a little.

“Look, Lin…” He forced out, as if the words physically hurt him. “I think we started off on the wrong foot.”

Oh, this was going to be fun.

“I do, too.” She said, her voice solemn.

“Ok.” He breathed.

“And I appreciate your apology.”

And just like that, the forced calm was gone. “Apology? Who said anything about an apology? I was just—“

“Mr. Whitethorn, don’t say anything else.” She raised her eyes from the book and looked straight at him. “It will only upset me.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” He asked and Lin almost laughed at the incredulity on his face. “What about you apologize?”

“And what in Hella’s realm would I apologize for?” She dropped the book, her temper rising.

“Would you believe if I told you I made the same question to myself seconds ago?” He mocked, crossing his arms.

Oh.

She crossed her arms too, raising her chin. “You mean to tell me that you haven’t been awfully rude for the past days and—“

“And you have been such a charm, isn’t that right?” He interrupted her.

“And,” she continued as if he hadn’t said a word. “You want me to believe that it wasn’t Gavriel who told you to come here and set things straight?”

The moment his jaw clenched, Lin had her answer. Gav was the peace keeper and he would undoubtedly tell Rowan to stop bothering her at some point. She had to admit that she was surprised it had taken only a week.

“I was trying to be nice.” Rowan said, through clenched teeth.

“It didn’t work.” She replied with a sweet smile. “Actually—“

“Do you ever shut up?”

“You want me to be quiet?” Her jaw dropped. He was in her cabin taking up her time and he had the audacity to tell her to shut up.

“It is my greatest wish.” He slumped on his seat, and Lin wanted to jump on him and strangle his pretty neck.

“Fine!”

“Fine!” She said louder, turning her head to the window. She knew she should kick him out, but her temper still hadn’t calmed down and she was itching to continue their sparring. She tried to soothe her nerves. She breathed in and out, watched the Oakwald trees passing by, tried to count to ten. Maybe if she tried to be civilized she would be able to kick him out faster and without further damage. “Will you miss it?”

“You talking? Hardly.”

And there was her temper rising again. “I meant Orynth, asshole.”

“Why the hell would I miss that piss poor city?” He sounded genuinely confused, and she turned her eyes back to him to see his brows furrowed.

“It was your home.” She said simply.

“It was a place where I lived. End of story.”

“That’s sad.” The words left her mouth before she could consider them, and Rowan’s gaze held so much wrath she had the mind of apologizing. “Sorry, it’s just that living most of your life without a home sounds shit. No wonder you’re like that.”

She knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment his face hardened.

“What’s up with you and homes, huh? Did you have a home, Lin? Did you have nice Yulemas mornings and happy Beltane celebrations? Did you have a beautiful house to go back every night?” His voice was dripping with venom, and that time it actually hurt. He knew she was an orphan, knew she had lived her whole life in an Adarlanian orphanage. And although he was an idiot, he wasn’t dumb. Rowan knew exactly how living in a poor orphanage in Adarlan as an immigrant and a Sirota meant.

He was just trying to hurt her by saying she never had a home either.

And it worked.

“I don’t know, to be honest.” She wanted to hurt him. Wanted to make him feel like the scum of the earth. “Because I have no memories before the age of eight so I wouldn’t know if I ever had a home. I wouldn’t know if I had happy Yulemas mornings or Beltane celebrations, and a house to call home, Rowan. As for later, the orphanage was as shit as you can most likely imagine but I did have family there, so yes, I had a home. It was shabby, shit and depressing but I would give anything to go back to it the way it was a year ago.”

She got up, and his eyes trailed her but he didn’t get up.

“Don’t try to make me be as pathetic as you, Whitethorn. You and I had the same shit, the difference is that I’m not a prick for no fucking reason.” She walked to the door, and even though she knew that this was her cabin and that he should be the one leaving, she couldn’t stay here. “Talk about my home like that again and I will fucking gut you while you sleep.”

“Lin…” He started, but she slammed the door after her, walking down the corridor.

She was fuming. She wanted to go back there and tear Rowan to shreds, but also wanted to walk until she had calmed down every single nerve in her body. Since murdering Rowan wouldn’t make her companions too happy, she opted for the latter.

How dare he speak of her life as he knew anything.

How dare him come to her only to try to hurt her.

How dare he—

Her racing thoughts were interrupted the moment a massive body hit her. She grabbed onto one of the windowsills, trying not to fall, and looked up. The man was almost as tall as Rowan or Lorcan, his brown hair was tied in a bun and deep blue eyes looked at her with so much scorn that he could probably give Rowan a run for his money.

“Watch where you’re going.” His voice was raspy and it send a shiver down her spine. He looked her up and down, giving Lin a disgusting smile before walking away. “Or maybe I’ll have to watch you.”

Lin had survived ten years dealing with shit, with people trying to hurt her everyday. She knew how to fight and definitely knew how to kill someone if the occasion asked for it. She could protect herself.

But in that moment all she wanted was to go to the boys. She didn’t want to ever see that man again, much less be alone with him in a corridor for the rest of her life. Maybe she’d convince Lorcan to kick the man out of the train. While it was moving. It sounded like the type of thing Salvaterre would enjoy.

“He barks more than he bites.” A feminine voice came from behind her, and Lin’s soul left her body as she yelped.

Lin turned around to see Lyria standing there, arms crossed and a small smile on her face. Lin would have snapped at her, but she knew that if it had been anyone else yelping how she had seconds ago, she would have wanted to laugh too.

“Who’s the brute?” Lin gestured to the retreating form that had hit her seconds ago.

“Cairn.” Lyria scrunched her nose in disgust. When she turned to Lin again, her face softened. “I take you were talking to Rowan.”

“Do I look this mad?” She replied, but a small smile also played on her lips.

“I don’t even want to know what he said.” Lyria sighed, putting her hands inside the pockets of her skirt. “Rowan can be brutal, but he’s a really good person when you get past his defenses.”

Lin was taken aback for a moment. This girl standing in front of her had nothing to do with the one in the platforms. This one seemed nice and warm, still holding a little of love for Rowan. The one in the platform had been cold and distant, wanting nothing more than strangle Rowan.

Lin would probably like the girl a lot if she did strangle her ex boyfriend.

“I thought you didn’t like him.” Lin admitted, and Lyria raised a brow, her warm eyes dancing with humor. “Or me, for that matter. In the platforms earlier you weren’t exactly…”

“Pleasant? Yes, I am sorry for that.” She seemed genuinely sorry, even bowing her head a little. “But appearances matter a lot, Lin, don’t forget that.”

Lin didn’t know what to respond to that, so she only tucked that piece of information in the back of her mind to analyze later.

“Would you like to have tea? Or coffee? With food, of course. Dinner isn’t served until eight and I am starving.” Lyria asked, her voice a little hopeful.

Lin knew the girl worked for the queen, and that should have been enough to make her suspicious. But Lyria seemed ok, nice even. If she was here with men like Cairn, her travel must have been brutal for the last couple of days. Lin didn’t need a new sister, she had Lysandra, but maybe having another woman that she could talk and befriend would be… Wouldn’t be terrible.

Lin’s smile was genuine when she answered Lyria’s question. “I’d love to. I have tired of my companions already, anyways.”

Lyria’s laugh at that had been genuine, too.

———————————————

“You are a women’s charmer. No one is at your level. Unparalleled, honestly.” Fenrys was saying and Rowan wanted to punch his teeth in. “In one week, one week, you managed to piss off Lin so much that now she’s chatting with you ex. It’s a record. Isn’t it a record, Gav?”

Gav snickered, as did the rest of them. Around seven, all six of them had decided go to the lounge to drink something and talk.

All of them had been shocked the moment they saw Lin and Lyria sitting at a table, laughing and talking as if they had been friends for years now.

“Can someone please shut Fenrys up?” Rowan grumbled.

“I have been trying for twenty years now.” Connall sighed, and Vaughan laughed at his husband. “Nothing works, unfortunately.”

“Poison, maybe?” Vaughan helped.

“Don’t kill my brother.” Connall turned to Vaughan.

“Yeah, don’t kill me, dickwad.” Fenrys butted in.

“Fenrys is right, though.” Lorcan said, his usual sarcastic smile on his lips. “What did you do to the girl?”

Rowan could feel his cheeks heating, and he looked at Lin again. He had been horrible.

Absolutely and disgustingly horrible.

Lin could get under his skin so fast that he didn’t even realized how pissed he was until they had started arguing. She was too sarcastic and too smart and the fact that she had taken a dislike in him the same way he had taken one in hers annoyed him endlessly. When arguing earlier, she had poked a sensitive part of his life and in that moment he hated her for it.

Now, he realized that there was no way she even knew it was a sore topic, but at the moment his emotions had been screaming so loudly that he didn’t even consider his next words. And they had been mean and low and he was so deeply ashamed that he didn’t know how he would even talk to her from now on. He should apologize for being purposefully mean, for using the little bit of information he knew about her to make her feel like shit.

Even though they only knew each other for about a week now, Rowan could notice that Lin was a secretive person. Whenever talking about her life, her hobbies or anything that would give them insight on who she was, Lin had been vague and superficial. She didn’t want them actually knowing her, and after today Rowan only had himself to blame.

And now she was chatting with Lyria as if nothing had happened.

The sight was strange. He hadn’t seen Lyria so free and talkative since she went to work for Maeve. After that, she had distanced herself, becoming colder and colder. It had broken Rowan’s heart in the beginning. Although she seemed to not think so, he had loved her. Rowan had loved Lyria in whatever way he knew, in whatever way he could. She had been the love of his adolescence, and she would always be a part of his story even though both of them were so different now.

There were things he hadn’t told her, but not because he didn’t trust her, but because he couldn’t voice them. Lyria had been so bright, so pure and lovely that Rowan couldn’t stand smudging all those qualities with his dirty past. Maybe it had also been his fault that they didn’t work out. He used to think it had been all about her working for the woman he hated, about her distancing herself from him, but he realized that he had been doing that for far longer than she had.

Gosh, he was a piece of shit.

“I’m a piece pf shit.” He said as much.

“Yes, you are!” Fenrys replied happily. Rowan turned to scowl at him, and Fenry’s smile immediately dropped. Not because of Rowan, though.

“Oh, fuck.” Gav muttered.

“Well, well, well… If it’s not dumb, dumber and dumbest.” Fenrys scoffed, staring at the doors to the lounge.

Standing there was Cairn, Cain and Perrington. All of his companions, and Rowan included, were familiarized with the three men. Whenever Lyria went to talk to them again, one had been flanking her back. The three were part of Maeve’s inner circle along with Lyria.

Rowan sometimes wondered how Lyria, who had been so sweet, endured working with those three pieces of shit. They reeked of cruelty and violence. Cain was known for doing Maeve’s hands-on dirty work, and Perrington was the one that did the political dirty work. Cairn was just a fucking sadist and Rowan shivered whenever he wondered what dirty work he was in charge of.

Rowan felt, more than saw, all his brothers tensing up when Cairn approached Lin, putting a hand on her shoulder. Despite Lin’s protests and announcements that she had no interest in befriending any of them, the cadre— as she liked to call them— had taken a certain liking and sense of protectiveness of her. Rowan was sure that Lorcan and Fenrys were about to walk up to Cairn when Lin got up, aggressively brushing the hand on her shoulder off and turning to the man with so much hate in her eyes that Rowan was glad he had never pissed her off to that point.

She mouthed something to him and Lyria bit her lower lip, trying not to smile. Lin, however, gave Cairn an ironic smile, turning back to Lyria. She said something, and the brunette only nodded, a smile on her lips.

When Lin noticed the other two men behind Cairn, her brows furrowed. She looked around until her eyes fell on them, and Fenrys gave her a subtle nod and walked a few steps in her direction. Lin turned back to the three man from Maeve’s inner circle, flipping them off as she walked to Fenrys. She looped her arm in his, and by the tightness on her mouth, she knew that Cain, Cairn and Perrington were still watching her.

“It was stupid to think Maeve would let all of us leave Orynth with just a few questions.” Connall said as his twin brother approached, Lin in his arm. “We should have realized when Lyria was in the platform days ago.”

“But the whole inner circle?” Vaughan asked, giving up his stool for Lin to sit down.

“Erawan is still with her.” Lorcan grunted, his eyes on the three man now sitting with Lyria. Where a laughing girl had been just minutes ago, now was a tense, cold woman.

“They are going to Melisande’s capital. Lyria told me.” Lin said, taking a sip from one of their drinks. By the way Fenrys narrowed his eyes, it was his.

Rowan wanted to bet twenty coppers that Lin knew exactly whose drink she was taking and knew that it would have been better if it was Vaughan’s or Gav’s.

“And why would we believe Lyria?” Lorcan asked, turning his head to her.

She merely shrugged. “I didn’t say we believed. I actually didn’t say anyone believed it.” She said calmly, taking another sip. Rowan didn’t fail to notice that she was ignoring him, refusing to let her gaze fall on him as she looked at the other five. “But I do, if you are wondering.”

“And why is that?”

Another shrug. “She’s nice.”

All of them were shocked, Rowan knew. Lin didn’t seem like the type to make friendships so fast, especially with people that could be a threat to her.

“She works with the new queen.” Vaughan said slowly, as if talking normally would scare Lin back into her shell.

“And so I have been told.” Her bored mask slipped, and a small smile played on her lips.

“She would turn you in if she knew what we were doing.” Fenrys said without Vaughan’s gentleness.

“Would she now?” Lin looked extremely amused by this conversation. “I take you guys know her well, then.”

And for the first time since she sat down, her eyes fell directly upon Rowan.

Part of Rowan wanted to ask what they had talked about, and the other part was too scared to even wonder.

“She tried to recruit us for Maeve’s inner circle a few times.” Lorcan’s voice sounded when Rowan didn’t respond to Lin’s silent inquire.

“Always with one of those pieces of shit with her.” Connall grunted, his eyes burning holes on Cain’s back.

“Every time she went to ask you to join she was with one of them?” Lin asked carefully, something shining on her eyes. Rowan tried to grasp what it was, but it wasn’t working.

Gav nodded, also studying Lin.

“Hum… Appearances matter a lot…” She muttered, but somehow Rowan knew she wasn’t talking to them, only thinking out loud. When she raised her eyes, Rowan finally identified what was gleaming on her turquoise and gold eyes.

Understanding.

Lin had understood something in that moment and after their fight today, Rowan knew she wouldn’t be inclined in sharing. She turned her head to Lyria at the same time Lyria turned to her. They shared a barely perceptible nod.

“What was that?” He finally said, his voice a little harsher then he expected.

Lin merely shrugged again, ignoring the cadre’s eyes on her while she sipped Fenrys’s drink.

If Rowan wanted to know what was going on, he would need to get in Lin’s good side.

And for that he would need to apologize.

He would do it that night, he decided, after dinner.

The moment he decided that, Lin’s eyes snapped to his as if she could hear his thought. The gold ore in her eyes looked molten, burning. The tightness of her mouth, the small crease between her eyebrows and her flaming eyes showed Rowan he would need to apologize a lot.

The girl was wildfire and she wanted nothing more than to burn him alive.

———————————————

Lyria was playing a very, very dangerous game if Lin’s assumptions were correct.

And maybe because the girl reminded Lin a little bit of Lysandra, a little bit of herself, she couldn’t help but worry about her safety.

The same way she thought Lyria wasn’t all that loyal to Maeve, she had no doubt her three companions were. And they didn’t look like the merciful type, the I-take-prisoners type. No, those men reeked of violence and sadism and Lin could only imagine what would happen if she was right and Lyria was caught doing something she shouldn’t.

The first moment Lin found Lyria’s situation a little bit strange was when they met in the corridor and the girl said something about how appearances were important. And then, during the hours they sat and talked… Lyria didn’t seem like a cruel fanatic, blind by her queen’s wishes. No, she sounded like a lovely twenty year old. She never once sounded angry or bitter, even when talking about Rowan. The girl was extremely open about her emotions and past, and didn’t seem to hold a grudge.

Nothing screamed mean bitch as it had in the platforms days ago.

And then when Connall said that there was always someone else from Maeve’s inner circle with her… Lin could have been wrong, but an insistent voice in the back of her head kept saying that she was right. That there was more she wasn’t seeing.

She kept the rest of the evening quiet. She ate with the cadre, and if they noticed how serious and voiceless she had become, none commented on it. They talked about what they would do in Perranth in a few days. The train would stop there for a few hours, and there were some things they needed to buy before leaving Terrasen. Lin only wished to buy a few books of her liking and maybe clothes that actually fit her size.

She wanted to talk to Lyria before going to her cabin, but Cain, Perrington and Cairn never left her side, and this wasn’t a conversation to have with people listening. So she only bid farewell to the cadre— pointedly ignoring Rowan— and went to her room.

She was still fucking pissed at Whitethorn, even more so that he hadn’t apologized. But she had to admit that she was also ashamed. She wasn’t innocent in all of this, and she had said some things she regretted.

She had half a mind of going to talk to him, maybe settle things. They could live in silence, never talking to one another instead of bickering all the time. That’s what Gav had sent him to do earlier, wasn’t it? But if she went to talk to him right now, not knowing what to say beforehand, the argument would probably escalate even more.

Better to leave it alone than to make it worse.

She took a quick bath, the water running cold a little bit too quickly for her liking. Fortunately it was already hot, so she wasn’t freezing by the time she stepped onto her silky nightgown and started drying her hair. The long golden waves fell down her back, and although Lin knew that shorter hair would be more practical, she couldn’t bring herself to cut it.

Lin eyed the mirror. She knew she was pretty, it had been a fact that brought her a lot of undesirable attention during the past ten years. She supposed most girls liked being beautiful, and she did too, but she also knew that her life would have been easier of she had common features.

Fenrys kept saying that she had the face of a royal. For the first time, Lin considered his words as she analyzed herself in the mirror. Her skin was flawless and creamy, the pimples from her younger years long gone. The only markings were a small scar above her left eyebrow and an even smaller one on her upper lip. Her nose and cheeks were peppered with freckles, a small mole under her right eye and mostly hidden by her lashes. Small straight nose, pinkish full lips and high cheekbones, Lin supposed she could pretend to be a princess.

“Eyes of a queen, though.” Fenrys would say, giving her a wink. She stared at her eyes then, the turquoise bright under the moonlight and the circle of gold looking molten.

Yes, she could pretend to be royalty just fine.

She felt a sharp pain in the back of her mind, and for a moment her vision swayed and she was in another room, a younger girl staring at the mirror. Same eyes, same hair but the features showed a chid no older than nine. The little girl smiled as two figures walked into her room, a brown haired man and a woman that looked so much like her that it could only be her mother. The girl opened her mouth to say something, and Lin let out a moan of pain as the vision disappeared and a headache formed between her brows.

She was breathing hard, her reflection on the mirror showing her red eyes rimmed with silver. She blinked forcefully and a tear slid down her cheek, the headache worsening.

She really though she had left the whole insanity thing behind.

Sighing, Lin went to her small bed, pulling the covers up to her chin even though it was burning hot now.

The pulse in the back of her head came back full force, a little bit different from the headache. The pulse was exactly like the one she had felt that day in the castle, the one she had felt when she first saw Rowan.

Unable to sleep and starting to sweat under the covers, Lin threw them back, grabbed her silky robe and put it on. She didn’t know where she was going, but as she started walking towards the end of the train, the pulse became stronger, quicker. She didn’t know why she kept going, but when she reached the last wagon, voices fluttered from inside.

Lin took a step in, watching five figures standing by the end of the wagon. She narrowed her eyes trying to see something in the darkness as a hand came around her mouth and one around her waist, pulling her inside a hidden alcove.

She was starting to panic, reading to start trying to scream when her back hit her assailant’s chest. A chest she had hit before. Part of her nerves calmed at that, and when the voice she had known for the past few days whispered in her ear, even the pulse inside her head stopped.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Rowan whispered, his voice barely audible to her. She turned her head slightly, staring at his pine green eyes.

He looked furious.

Good, so was she. He scared the hell out of her.

Lin moved her mouth against his hand, and he understood what she wanted. He took his hand from her mouth, but kept the one on her waist as if to hold her in case she decided to do something very, very stupid.

“I can ask you the same!” She said in the same tone he had, but made sure by the look on her face that she wanted to be screaming at him.

“I—“

Rowan was interrupted when the hushed voices became louder, a particular one making both Lin and Rowan tense up.

“Please.” Lyria’s voice pleaded.

Tags:

@morganofthewildfire @alyx801 @ladywitchling @westofmoon @rolltide7 @queen-of-glass @alifletcher2012 @rattlethestarsdarling @rowanisahunk @bilkul-sharam-nahi-aati @faerie-queen-fireheart @sweetlyvillainous @chemicha @jlinez @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @abookishfreak @courtofjurdan @acourtofglass @linshryver @punkassbookjockey26 @acourtofaelinbryceandfeyre @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

*tags in bold are not working

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hiyaluronic · 3 years

Text

Unnamed Sentinel/Guide Au (partial draft)

Nile eyed Nicky’s plate with envy, her nose twitching at the pleasant aroma of garlic and the slightly nutty, pungent smell of cumin and turmeric; the spicy aromatics filling the small dining room and causing her stomach to grumble excitedly. She turned from Nicky’s plate to stare down at her own in dismay. The grilled chicken breast, steamed broccoli, and rich buttery baked potato were doing nothing to satiate her cranky stomach.

“Why does Nicky get the good stuff?” She hadn’t meant to sound childish but Joe’s home cooked chicken curry looked a thousand times more appetizing than the standard restaurant-style meal situated on her plate.

Joe grinned and winked at Nicky who in turn rolled his eyes in response, “Because he’s being punished.”

Nile sighed and poked halfheartedly at her chicken, “Then can I be punished too?”

Andy snorted into her wine glass, pulling the stemmed glass away and clearing her throat against the burn of alcohol. “Trust me, you don’t.”

“If you say so.” Nile murmured and reluctantly cut into her chicken. She took a few bites, her gaze lingering on Nicky’s plate which sat untouched, wondering how exactly homemade food was a punishment.

“C’mon, Nicolò,” Joe prodded, forgetting his own meal and using his fork to spear a piece of sauce drenched chicken from Nicky’s plate. “I promise it will not be as bad as Baton Rouge.”

Nile perked up, curious. “What happened in Baton Rouge?”

Andy smiled deviously and leaned over to Nile. “Booker’s attempt at cerole cooking. His Jambalaya is still pending a patent as a lethal weapon. Joe and I ended up with food poisoning, Nicky on the other hand....”

Nicky swallowed, eyeing the innocent piece of poultry dangling from Joe’s fork with trepidation, eyes following the curry sauce as it slowly dripped onto the tablecloth. “I ended up zoning because the idiota, mixed up chile peppers with bhut jolokia.”

Nile scrunched her face. “Bahht Zo-lu-key-ya?”

“Ghost peppers.” Andy simplified, leaning back into the kitchen chair and crossing her arms, watching Joe shake the chicken enticingly in front of Nicky with mild amusement.

Nile cringed and swallowed, her mouth watering at the imagined heat of said pepper. “Shit.”

“Indeed.” Nicky replied with a sigh before leaning forward and letting his mouth wrap enticingly around Joe’s fork - the pink of his lips covering the silver of the utensil suggestively - before ever so slowly pulling back, smirking when he noticed Joe’s eyes narrow at his actions. Nicky closed his eyes and let the juices from the chicken settle on his tongue; the sweetness of clove and cinnamon dancing across his tongue and running as a current under the powerful flavor of turmeric, bay leaves, and cumin. He sucked the sauce and juice from the chicken, tilting his head back and moaning in pleasure when the slight underlying warmth of garlic and mustard seed tickled his taste buds.

He mentally smirked when he felt Joe kick his shin under the table, a quiet behave drifting from his husband's lips, the heady scent of musk saturating the air between them and sending a jolt of excitement through Nicky. He could hear Nile coughing awkwardly across the table; a deep bass to the quiet trill of Andy’s accompanying laughter. Why should he be the only one to be punished?

He felt the air shift and change before he heard Joe sigh. “Come on, Nico. You know how this goes, what’s the secret ingredient?”

Nicky frowned at the question and chewed the chicken, unsure. He could taste something off. Taste something out of place underneath the normal spices, something sharp and bitter - almost medicinal.

“I’m assuming it’s not love?” Nile said to Andy, who snickered.

Nicky swallowed and blinked open his eyes, turning to Joe, “Clove, cinnamon, turmeric, bay leaf, cumin. Just a hint of garlic and mustard... and...”

Joe ticked off the ingredients with his finger, “And…?”

Nicky licked his lips and tried to focus on the odd taste, he knew it, he just couldn’t place the where and what, and most notably the name. He hated having to sort through Joe’s cooking because there were so many different flavors in the world and it was sometimes very hard to distinguish between herbs and spices; and, while he loved his husband, Joe liked to make it as hard as possible. The reasoning? Because it eased his husband's mind knowing that he could detect even the subtlest of flavors - which he would agree. Being able to detect the minute differences in flavors between herbs and poisons had saved them many unneeded deaths over the various decades.

But, still…

“It tastes like soap.”

“Seriously, Joe!” Nile admonished, eyes wide in concern. “You put soap in his food?”

“It’s not soap!” Joe was quick to reply, just a little offended at the accusation. “I would never do such a thing!”

“Uggh.” Nicky shivered in disgust when it finally clicked what the offending flavor was, “Cilantro!”

“Very good, Nico!” Joe leaned forward and kissed his husband happily. “And now what sense shall we work on next, hmmm?”

Nicky laughed softly with a shake of his head, “Joe, it was only one zone with a great many number of years between my last one. I promise I do not need-”

“It is not about what you need, you have become lax in these last few decades, hayati, you’re starting to rely too heavily on the technology of today. And it worries me.” Joe explained, running a hand through his beard and scratching at the skin underneath. “You were very lucky that Nile had been there to keep an eye on you until Andy and I arrived but what would have happened if Nile had been indisposed of? You would have been left vulnerable and that’s just not acceptable.”

“Cuore Mio.” Nicky murmured, his hand reaching over to grasp Joe’s tightly in his absently running his thumb over Joe’s knuckles.. He didn’t need heightened senses to know that his love was feeling anxious but the sulfuric reek permeating the air around Joe just confirmed it.

Andy nodded, seeming to agree with the idea. “Joe’s right, Nicky. We have to be able to trust that on a mission you won’t conk out on us. A refresher might do some good and it’ll help Nile know what to do when Joe is unavailable to pull you back.”

Nile held her hand up and cleared her throat, drawing the attention of the small group. “Speaking of. I was promised an explanation?”

“That you were, Nile.” Nicky agreed, squeezing Joe’s hand with a gentle smile. “There is sadly not much to tell.”

“Oh, hell no. You don’t get to reveal Nicky is a superhero-” Not a superhero, Nile “and then not tell me how that happened.”

Joe and Nicky shared a look, Joe raised his shoulder slightly in question to which Nicky tilted his head, his gaze flicking towards Nile before returning to Joe with a small nod.

Joe sighed and pulled his hand free from Nicky’s, settling back against his chair, and focusing his sight on the darkened splotches of curry staining the tablecloth. “It was many, many months after we had grown tired of constant death and had laid down our arms against one another. At the time we thought our situation was part of our immortality, it wasn’t until we met Andromache and Quynh that we understood otherwise.”

Nicky smiled fondly, remembering the circumstances that had surrounded their meeting of their sisters in arms. It had been a sweltering summer, the air so thick that even the simple act of breathing would leave a person exhausted and uncomfortably drenched. Time had worn away at a lot of his memories but the vibrant scent of the briny waters lapping at the sands along the coast, the salty air pushed inland by the balmy waves of the Mediterannean that ate away at wood and stone alike and the overbearing smell of seagrasses that would drift upward when low tide would hit and carrying the faint tinge of dead sea life along with it were still vivid in his memory.

But what he remembered the most about that first meeting - what still haunted him and fueled his nightmares almost a millennium later - was the utter terror of not being able to hear Joe’s heartbeat between one moment and the next. His breath still faltered when he thought back to the utter panic that had grabbed hold and burrowed deep into his chest at the mere thought of losing the one person who could make him feel human.

“Andromache and Quynh absconded with Joe before we had the chance to be formally introduced.”

Nile balked at Nicky’s words but at the minute twitch to the corners of his mouth and the way she noticed his eyes darken just a tad, not quite in anger but in an almost accusatory way, had her turning to Andy flabbergasted, “You what!?

“In all fairness,” Andy started, her hands raised in supplication, “it was just to test a theory. We’d trailed the two of them for days, trying to get a read on what kind of buffoons they were outside of the dreams.”

“We were not buffoons.” Joe huffed, affronted, eyes ticking to Nicky looking for agreement.

Andy quirked an eyebrow, “You literally killed each other dozens of times over the span of 6 months. Quynh and I had even started making bets on it. So, hence, bah-foons.”

“We were-” Joe trailed off, looking to Nicky for the right way to answer without confirming Andy’s rather accurate description.

Nicky turned from Joe’s gaze to Andy’s with a frown, “-working through some things.”

“Sure, language barrier, sectarianism, genocide…” Andy said, ticking each item off with the raise of one of her fingers.

“Getting off topic here, guys. I’m assuming there’s more to the story then Andy and Quynh running off with Joe in tow?”

With a sigh, Andy looked towards Nile. “There were… are stories. Legends really, about persons with the capability to perceive the world around them on a level unseen by us mere humans.”

“Sounds amazing.” Nile said.

“One would think until you realize nothing can be such without its own hindrances.” Nicky explained with a wince, “What Andy and Quynh were testing was to see if Joe and I had bonded as guide and sentinel.”

“Bonded?”

“A sentinel’s abilities are latent, most that have this ability will never know because a sentinel is born through harsh conditions and need.” Andy explained at Nile’s question. “But if there is no guide, no way for a sentinel to maintain a baseline, the world becomes an enemy to them and they either zone or turn feral.”

“Feral? Like...turn rabid?”

Nicky nodded at Nile, “An abhorred definition but yes. We have only ever seen a feral sentinel once and it ended with him falling to my blade.”

“Okay.” Nile pursed her lips trying to gather her thoughts, “Okay so Andy and Quynh took Joe to make sure you were bonded and not feral?”

“You have to understand Nile, we saw them kill each other for months. With so much senseless violence Quynh and I had to make sure that the world hadn’t bred a broken and untamed immortal.”

#the old guard fanfiction #the old guard #sentinel/guide au #Nicky x Joe #nicolo di genova #yusuf al kaysani #nile freeman #andromache the scythian #my stuff #still trying to work through this #still untitled #and hoping that if I post some of it I will get the creative juices flowing so I can finish this #extended preview because I'm still trying to finish this lol #WRITING IS HARD #THERE IS SO MUCH LOOKING UP HOW THINGS SMELL AND LOOK #OMG I LOOKED UP WHAT ANXIETY SMELT LIKE AND WHAT ROTTEN MILK TASTES LIKE AND JUST #GAAAAH

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idyllicstarker · 4 years

Note

Prompt where tony is pent up and hasn’t come in like two months and is cranky and peter asks him if he needs help relieving his stress (also bottom tony please)

Your wish is my command! This took a much softer route than I originally thought it would. But I still struggle with writing smut, so right now hard smut ain’t the one, but I tried to give you equall parts sexy times, equal parts fluff, and with a bit of angst and grumpy Tony mixed in. But I was proud of it nevertheless, so I hope you like it!

Trigger warning: Implict reference to erectile dysfunction, sexual content, foul language, rimming, age difference (although it isn’t stated peter is 18+ and therefore above the age of consent)

It wasn’t that Tony had an off the charts libido. He didn’t need to constantly have sex to keep himself happy. He didn’t even need to have sex to satisfy his drive - maybe in his youth he was more active in finding partners, but now, a simple solo play was enough to keep him going. He didn’t like hookups anymore, he liked the intimacy of sex not the thrill of one night stands or flings. He didn’t have a partner but that was okay, he was older now, and his hand was enough of a companion until he found someone he did generally want to have sex with. But two months without properly spilling a load proved to be a bigger challenge than Tony would have anticipated.

His sudden abstinence wasn’t a choice. Tony wasn’t exactly insatiable, but every time he tried to ‘get himself going’ nothing happened. It scared him at first, especially since it confirmed that he was at such an age where he couldn’t even get it up anymore. But the problem apparently lay deeper when he could get it up… he just couldn’t get it back down again. Content with the fact that he didn’t need to start buying viagra Tony tried his hardest to do anything at all. But after three days of intense masturbation (he was pretty sure he’d rubbed the entire outer layer of his cock off), he didn’t know how many more cold showers he could take before going into meetings. Once or twice he may have gotten close, but only to produce a dribble of cum which was by far not enough to accommodate for how red and swollen his cock was.

He tried everything he could in his spare time, but his balls were stubborn as ever. Two months on they were still full and only getting fuller.

At this point it was beyond frustrating. Tony didn’t know what to do, and after running out of a meeting and breaking down in the bathroom because the front of his pants were painfully tight, he knew he’d have to do something before his lack of relief killed him. The question was: what was that something supposed to be?

He’d tried his hardest to keep himself occupied. He’d always over-worked himself, but now he was doing double the hours because anything that could take his mind away from how desperate he felt all the time was considered a good thing. Along with that of course came stress, and Tony was exhausted. Pepper definitely took advantage of his new found enthusiasm, ensuring his days were tightly packed. (No pun intended!) The one good thing about this whole drama was the fact that when Tony wasn’t working, he was tinkering in his lab. What else was he supposed to do? He never did have any hobbies. And being in his lab more often, meant that Peter, who had always been eager to spend as much time in there with Tony as he could, finally had more time too. And Tony had always adored the smile on his face as he left the lab after a good few hours of work.

Yet as nice as Tony tried to be these past months, sometimes he let his fatigue and irritation get the better of him and he truly deserved the title of being a bitter old man.

“You can put on some music if you want.”

Peter looked up his laptop, gaze settling on Tony as he gave a tight lipped smile and nodded his head. He was hunched in his chair, evidently trying to make himself seem as small as possible, he didn’t even let a peep out. Even the way his fingers rested on the keyboard - tense, he was too scared to type, out of fear that the clicking of the keys would aggravate Tony into yelling at him again. The guilt that washed over Tony was intense, an emotion that he definitely didn’t need right now with his already overwhelming vexation but he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

He hadn’t meant to snap. It had been a long day and although he promised Peter they could work on some new adjustments to his suit, he just wanted a bit of peace and quiet. Peter, bless his soul, was babbling about his day the moment he walked through the door. And Tony snapped. He knew full well he shouldn’t take his own autonomy problems out on Peter, but as soon as the words left his mouth it was too late.

“Kid, I really don’t care.”

The sight of Peter’s wide eyes as Tony sighed exasperatedly at him would haunt him forever. The hurt didn’t hit him at first, and then suddenly Peter’s gaze flickered down to the tabletop, as he muttered a quiet ‘sorry’ and Tony hadn’t heard him speak since. He’d even quietly taken himself away from the table with the suit, and sat down at his usual seat across the lab. Tony presumed he was working on school work or something, and had of course left Tony to work on the suit alone. He could have been harsher, and Tony thanked whatever filter stopped that from happening. Peter looked like he was on the verge of tears, but still he didn’t make a sound, almost as if he was just trying to disappear completely.

“I’m sorry, Peter, I didn’t mean that. At all. I do care, I really do. I just-“

“It’s okay Mr Stark, I understand. I’ve been told I speak too much sometimes, and I know you’ve been working a lot so this is like your.. free time, and I’m sure you don’t want me ruining that. I’m sorry.”

The repeated apology did nothing for how mad Tony was at himself, and he’d even made the boy think he thought he spoke too much. Honestly Peter’s rambles about his day was what made Tony’s better, and the thought that maybe he’d never get to hear them again was horrifying.

He offered for Peter to put on music, hopefully it would be a cause of distraction and Tony didn’t have to sit in silence with his thoughts. But of course there came no verbal reply.

“What about that story, you were telling me, you should finish it. I was quite intrigued”, he offered instead. Of course it was all a little hypocritical and by the way Peter raised an eyebrow he noticed it too.

“It was just stupid Mr Stark. I’m sure you wouldn’t care”, he muttered quietly, finally raising his gaze all the way to look Tony in the eyes.

At a loss, Tony deflated, sitting back in his chair. “Alright”, he simply replied, because what else was he supposed to do? He was too exhausted to even fix what he’d done. Eyes closed, he pulled the glasses off his face and set them down, before massaging the bridge of his nose. His skin was oily with sweat, and as it collected on his fingers, he grimaced, shaking his head. He didn’t know how he managed to get himself into this position, but he knew it started with the fact that he was too horny for his own good. He was at a point where he didn’t even care how mean he was being, and was two seconds away from dismissing Peter with a sorry excuse that he didn’t feel well, until he felt two small hands rest on his shoulders.

His eyes snapped open, but he knew even before he did that it was Peter.

Skilled hands worked silently at the knots in his shoulders, and Tony let out a grunt. A snicker sounded from above him, and even Tony couldn’t stop himself from letting out a small laugh.

“This funny to you Pete?”, he asked, his tone amused but his voice was hoarse because the small hands were strong and they definitely knew what they were doing.

He didn’t exactly get a reply to his question, but he did hear a hesitant sigh from the younger male. It was almost as if he was thinking carefully about whether to say what was actually on his mind.

“I know better than to let your snapping get at me”, he eventually said. Although Tony couldn’t see it, he could hear the smile in his voice, and as a spur of the moment decision, he rested his head back against Peter’s stomach. The boy didn’t seem to mind, letting go of his shoulders to instead thread his fingers through Tony’s hair. “It isn’t the first time, and I know you’ve been stressed lately. I have every right to call you a cranky old man and get offended, but I know there’s something deeper going on there because Happy tells me all the time that you repeat everything I say, back to him, with frightening enthusiasm, to use his wording. So I know you do care, deep down”, he muttered gently, fingertips dancing across his scalp.

Tired eyes opened to meet Peter’s gentle ones. He probably should have been more mad at Happy than he actually felt, but the fact that it did make him smile was a win. “So what are you saying?”, he asked after a moment. “Have you been searching up old people’s homes to send me too because you’ve finally had enough of my bullshit?”

Peter smirked, and rolled his eyes. “Not yet, but you should watch your mouth because the next time you upset me it’s going to be the first thing I do”, he answered.

As Tony laughed, he made an attempt to pull away, but Peter didn’t let him. In fact he tugged on Tony's hair to prevent it. That wasn’t the problem, it was an innocent tug, but the moan that Tony emitted from the feeling wasn’t so innocent.

Both turned equally red. Tony at having such a reaction from so little stimulation (especially since said stimulation was from his much younger partner) and Peter at being able to elicit such a reaction. Tony shot up, and Peter actually let go this time. But he wasn’t going to let go of the moment as easily as he did his head.

“Mr Stark, when was the last time you had sex?”, he questioned. Tony choked on the water he’d sipped to try and calm the heat that had spread across his face, which apparently was useless after being asked such an obscene and blunt question, especially when the question was asked so casually and with such a sweet voice.

“Excuse me”, he squeaked, still riding the aftershocks of almost dying, but Peter still stood beside him, not concerned but clearly amused. More than anything though, he seemed concerned. He wanted to help.

“I’m not saying I know for definite that you’re sexually frustrated Mr Stark, but it would explain why you’ve been… frustrated for a number of weeks now. And I guess, I have to say it now: You’re not exactly the best at knowing when someone else is entering the lab, especially when you’re focused. And all I’m saying is that if I’ve walked in on you three times.. doing the you know what, and each time you never finished-”

“Kid, you’re killing me”

Peter laughed softly, looking down at Tony with a gentle expression. “It’s not my fault you’re not the best at knowing when someone comes into the lab when you’re focused. And you were very focused.”

“And you just decided to watch then?”

“I like to call it: waiting for the best time to make my presence known.”

Tony sighed, raising a hand to his head and kneading his first into his temple. “Well I’ve definitely fucked up then. God, why didn’t you tell me”, he groaned.

There was a moment of silence between them. Until finally Peter opened his mouth. He was shifting nervously, like he always did when he asked Tony for something. But this time it was more about giving, more than anything. And that was far worse, than anything he could ask for.

“You know Mr Stark, if you need help-”

“Nope! No, absolutely not”, Tony’s reply was adamant and he was already standing up from the chair. He made his way across the lab, shaking his head adamantly.

“You didn’t even let me finish”, Peter pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. It surprisingly wasn’t enough to deter him from saying anything else. Any other time and he may have ran out of the room mortified at being rejected. But this was different.

“I’m not going to let you do anything for me, because you feel bad that I can’t even help myself out. It’s fine, I’ve gotten through it this long, I’ll get myself out of it somehow. I’m not some sort of sicko and I refuse to let you do anything”

“I think your ego is getting in the way of your common sense”, Peter replied, hands gripping onto the chair that Tony had just vacated. The male looked over, and observed him, and he couldn’t help but think what those knuckles would look like gripping onto the sheets.

“Fuck”, he muttered to himself, turning his head away.

“What was that?”, Peter asked innocently, a sweet little smirk on his face as if he knew. As Tony didn’t reply, he continued: “as I was saying, all I was going to ask is if I could, help relieve any of that stress?”, he asked coyly.

Tony scoffed, shaking his head. “Peter, you know what you’re doing”, he corrected, making his way back over to the chair. “Can we just finish the suit please? I don’t know how I didn’t scar you when you caught me. Three… oh hell, three god damn times. Why you’d want to expose yourself to that more I have no idea”, he rambled, sitting in his chair heavily.

“You’re infuriating”, Peter mumbled. It all happened so quickly, a hand on Tony’s wrist was pulling him up and suddenly Peter’s lips was on his. It was a heavy kiss, hot with passion and desire, and Tony melted there and then. He grunted at the suddenness of it, but of course, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted or needed more. Peter’s hands were on his ass, squeezing and kneading at it. The room was hot in itself but with their bodies pushed against each other, the fire in the room was dangerous.

Tony’s hips thrusted forward, desperate to find friction until he was practically humping at Peter’s thigh. He was whimpering softly, and it was in that moment in which Peter realised just how needy he actually was. He decided he didn’t want to tease him too much - even after all the horrible things he may have said the past few months when he was in his grumpy moods. It wasn’t worth it, not when he knew Tony was so desperate.

Moving to undo Tony’s jeans, and pull them down along with his boxers, he laughed quietly hearing the man mumble that this “seemed wrong.”

“You want it don’t you?”, he reassured, looking up at him with a calm expression. He didn’t want to do this if Tony generally didn’t feel like this was the best thing to help him. But by the look on his face, and the small nod, Peter knew that meant, give it a try. And he definitely would.

Finally, now that he could focus, he pulled down the boxers that were stuck to Tony’s skin and gasped quietly as his cock bounced out, and hit across his stomach. “Has it been like this for a while?”, he asked sympathetically, taking in how desperate it was. It was practically bulging, steaming red, and already leaking pre cum onto Tony’s stomach.

“Two months”, he admitted.

Peter nodded and stretched out a hand, wrapping his fist around it. But he frowned as Tony seemed to have no reaction. Surely with how sensitive it looked, a simple brush with a finger would elicit some sort of moan. He looked up to Tony, as he began to pump him slowly, but Tony only groaned softly.

“I think I’m broken”, he admitted.

How devastated he sounded had Peter laughing. He probably shouldn’t but it was impossible not too. “You’re not broken, you just need a bit of human touch that’s all”, Peter said softly.

“Look at you Mr. know it all”

“Shush”

Peter rose to his feet once again, gently lifting Tony onto the table with a small smirk. “I’m stronger than I look you know”, he laughed, at Tony’s bewildered expression. “You know I don’t think I’ve ever told you, but I’m really attracted to you Mr. Stark”, he told him softly, as he knelt down. Hooking his arms under his thighs he pulled his legs onto his shoulders and hummed softly as he caught sight of Tony’s opening.

“You are?”

“Of course. I’m pretty sure everyone is”, he didn’t really give much of a space to dwell on that, before his head came forward and his tongue lapped gently at his opening.

Tony let out a staggered breath and Peter smirked slightly at his reaction. “Fuck Peter”, he muttered, hips slightly lifting off the table but Peter was quick to hold them back down.

He didn’t bother to say anything, continuing to lap at Tony’s wet hole, hands massaging at his thighs. Tony was withering and Peter couldn’t believe it had taken the man so long to cum when he was shaking at a single touch. Although Tony wasn’t completely tight, Peter found out, when he moved a finger to break past the ring of muscle. So Tony had clearly tried. But as Peter had said, he just needed some human touch. He spat against the eager hole that was now clenching around his finger, relishing in Tony’s whines.

“You’re doing so well for me Mr Stark”, he whispered softly, wide and sweet eyes looking up at the withering man, which Tony concluded should be a sin considering his finger was pumping in and out of his hole.

“Fuck, Peter, please. Please I need more”, he begged, hips rutting against his hand as he threw his head back.

Peter kept to his internal promise of not teasing him. Pulling out his finger only to completely devour his hole. Tony’s hands tugged at his hair, yelling out as Peter lapped at him. When he figured that would be enough spit to reduce any discomfort, Peter pulled away, licking at his lips. “You taste really good Mr Stark”, he muttered innocently, as two fingers breached his hole to scissor him open.

He wasn’t sure if Tony couldn’t speak because this was the first real pleasure he’d felt in so long, or if this is what he was usually like, but either way, Peter loved it. Tony was a sight to remember. Fingers scratching at the table, trying to grab onto anything he could hold onto; body shaking and soft moans falling from his parted lips. His head was thrown back and eyes closed, and Peter was sure he’d never seen a sexier sight. Two fingers turned into three, and Tony was begging.

“Please Peter, I need you so bad. Please, I can’t, I’m so close”, he scrambled over his words.

“You need what Mr Stark?”

“You, fuck, Peter please I need you.”

If Tony had been more aware of anything other than the burning in his lower stomach, he may have gushed at the adorable sound of the giggle that emitted from Peter. How he managed to stay so cute, while making a valiant attempt at dominating Tony.

As the boy stood, he had a soft smile on his lips. “I wish you could see how sexy you look right now Mr Stark”, came his passive statement, gently pulling Tony to the edge of the table by his thighs. “It’s like I can see the stress just completely diminishing - a job well done by me if I do say so myself”, he hummed. He was far from cocky but in that moment Tony knew he was fairly arrogant of the fact that he’d managed to reduce his mentor to such a state. Especially after he’d admitted he hadn’t been able to for a while. But Tony didn’t have it in him to feel taken aback by the confidence, it was sexy, and anything to help the pent up stress and energy that plagued him, he’d take again and again.

Peter leaned in to press a kiss to Tony’s lips, as if sensing his wandering brain. “Hey there big boy, I’m trying to help you out here. The least you can do is act like you’re enjoying it”, he muttered softly.

Tony frowned slightly, gaze searching over Peter’s. He was surprised to see that along with his genuine sympathy for Tony’s problems (and aside from the darkened lust) that Peter held all the affection that Tony believed was saved for a lover or something of the sort. He let out a soft sigh, moving to wrap his arms around Peter’s neck, unconsciously rocking his hips forward against Peter’s clothed crotch. He moaned softly as his own manhood rubbed invitingly against what he only presumed was the hardness of Peter’s bulge. “I am enjoying it”, he shivered, lips pressing against the smooth dip of his neck, mouthing at the salty sheen across Peter’s skin. His breathing was staggered with need, and by the way Peter’s adam’s apple bobbed against his nose, he knew he was just as eager as Tony. They rocked together, Peter mouthing wet open-mouthed kisses at Tony’s temple, whilst the man himself shuddered, fanning his warm breath against Peter’s skin.

“Pants. Off!” Tony demanded.

Peter groaned softly in response, letting go of Tny long enough to pull down his own sweatpants and underwear. Tony wasn’t sure what he was expecting in terms of Peter’s endowment. But when a hefty length sprang out and hit across his own thigh, already hard and bulging, Tony knew it put his own to shame. The build up of saliva in his mouth at the mere sight was incriminating. He didn’t look away until he felt a finger under his chin, forcing his head to look up at a very red Peter.

“The spider bite… altered a few things”, he explained, he almost sounded embarrassed about it.

“Fuck me Peter, literally, please, I need that.” Tony’s wide eyes showed he was more than happy to see such a sight, just slightly shocked.

“Someone’s whiny, gosh Tony”, Peter teased, his confidence once again returning as he pulled Tony closer, their chest pressed against each other as he moved for a kiss. Their shirts were sticky on their bodies, and their pants hung heavily at their ankles, but all Tony could focus was getting that inside him.

“Fuck you”, Tony muttered against his lips, eliciting a smirk from the younger male.

“I think you mean fuck me”, he hummed, lining himself up at Tony’s newly opened entrance.

Tony mumbled something under his breath, but had already burrowed his head into the crook of Peter’s neck. His arms were clutching at his back, pulling on the shirt material with such an animalistic strength that any harder and may have ripped it.

As Peter pushed in, he wailed. Not in a necessarily pained way, but a wail of relief. He’d needed this, and now that he’d finally gotten it, he was in such a state of euphoria that his body was tingling. Peter’s hand came to rest on his hip, and the touch burned his skin in the most inviting way. The stretch of his cock inside his hole ached - he felt like he was seconds from splitting apart as Peter pushed in, but it was the best type of feeling. A pain that had him crying out for more, never wanting it to stop. A choked breath fell from his lips, shuddering at the sound of Peter’s heavy breathing until finally he bottomed out. Simultaneously they both let out a sigh of utter relief.

As Peter rocked his hips, Tony threw his head back, eyes closed as he clutched and scratched at Peter’s skin where his hands had found their way under his shirt. Everything was so hot and frantic but he wouldn’t have liked it any other way. This is exactly what he’d needed after so long of being starved of the feeling of being full to the brim.

Their bodies moved together in sync, Peter thrusting in and out with such a skilled and knowledgeable pattern that Tony very almost grew jealous at the thought of how many times he must have done this. A hand pulled at the hairs at the nape of his neck, and the other was keeping his hips at the table, asserting complete and utter dominance and Tony was more than willing to submit. It didn’t matter what partners Peter had in the past, because tonight, Tony was his. Between the sounds of his moans as Peter slammed into him and the boy’s own as Tony clenched perfectly around his width, the quiet mantra of Tony’s soft whimpers of ‘mine’ very almost went unnoticed.

Almost.

“What was that Mr Stark?”, Peter breathed against his ear, the cockiness in his voice revealing that he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Mine! Fuck your mine Peter. Mine. Fuck, please, don’t stop. I’m so close”, he babbled all at once. He almost didn’t recognise his own voice with how needy he was being. He’d like to put it down to the fact that finally he was going to get what he needed; but deep down he knew by his own possessiveness that he never wanted this to stop - ever!

Considering he’d found it so hard to reach a high for the past two months, Tony was ready to blow already. But he certainly wasn’t complaining, just the feeling of being full to the hilt of something real had already taken the edge off.

As Peter’s thrusts grew shallower, it was pretty obvious that he was just as close as Tony. The boy’s hand wrapped around the older male’’s leaking cock, thumb rubbing over the slit in a persuasive action to encourage it to let go, finally to take what it needed. A surprisingly affectionate gaze never left Tony’s face, totally stuck on the way it was scrunched in immense pleasure. It was a beautiful sight and Peter wished he got to see it more often. He had a lazy smile on his lips that only grew when he saw that Tony was on the brink.

“It’s okay, come for me Mr Stark. Give me it, I want it so bad”, he whispered, his hand pumping his cock and squeezing at just the right moment when he hit Tony’s prostate again and again.

Tony couldn’t help but let go. He came with a loud yell, his whole body rushing full of warmth, as his sight turned white from the sheer intensity of it. He was mumbling curses, body trembling, totally out of it, but Peter’s strong arms found their way around him to hold him up in his weakness. There were a couple more thrusts before he felt Peter spill inside of him.

When he gained more conscious bearings, he was still bundled into Peter’s arms, both still naked and sweaty, both with their clothes hanging off them. Peter had pulled out and Tony could feel his release leaking from his hole, but the younger male was gently rubbing his back, Tony’s legs around his waist and head buried in his chest. “You did so well for me Tony, i’m so proud of you”, he was muttering sweetly, nose burrowing into his hair. It was the most love Tony had felt in a long while.

As he raised his head, he realised his once painfully full cock was laying limp between his thighs. It took him a moment before he realised that the extremely excessive amount of cum across both his and Peter’s stomach was all his own - no wonder it had been so painful.

“There we go, doesn’t that feel so much better Mr Stark?”, Peter asked him “I was surprised to see you cum so much, but I guess it was necessary. I’m sure it feels better now tho, right?”, he questioned hopefully. Again with the innocent act, wide, slightly insecure eyes met his. But as they did, Peter moved his finger to scoop up some of Tony’s release. Without even a second thought he lifted it to his lips and began to suck it off as if it was some kind of lollipop. The boy moaned quietly at the taste as he looked up at him, smiling sweetly.

Tony at a loss of words could only simply nod at Peter’s question.

The boy giggled, raising an eyebrow cheekily. “Must have been good, you can’t even speak. Was my dick too bomb Mr Stark?”, he questioned.

Tony knew that was some kind of pop culture reference he definitely wouldn’t understand. He peered over Peter bemused. “I don’t even know what that means”, he muttered.

Peter sighed happily and leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Don’t worry about it”, he reassured, hands stroking at Tony’s thighs. “I’m glad I could help you… relieve stress”, he hummed, laughing at the end part because of course he’d done much more than that. “I just hope you know this means you’re never getting rid of me now. You’re stuck with me. I wasn’t lying about that attraction thing. And if you want… i’d like to help you relieve stress more often”, he finished, gaze downcast as if scared for the reply. This time he actually was fearful of rejection.

Tony didn’t know how he could ever really reject him. Pushing aside the fact that he’d just given him the best dick in his life, Tony couldn’t deny he’d always taken a liking towards the boy. He was both attracted to him physically, but also inspired by his intelligence and adored his personality. He didn’t realise that as he’d planned to spend the rest of his life with him, by having him work with him… he was actually just trying to keep Peter close because he enjoyed being around him.

“I think I’m gonna have to keep you around for more than just stress relief”, Tony confirmed, his gaze soft as he regained the strength to gently take Peter’s waist and pull him in for another kiss.

The grin on the boy’s face as they pulled away was totally worth it. “Thank you Mr Stark. I think we should probably go take a shower. You made us a little messy.”

“We can shower. But Peter, really, if we’re gonna start doing this properly. You gotta stop calling me Mr Stark.”

“Okay… Mr Stark”.

“Peter!”,

“Sorry…”

Tag list: @itsmexavie @icandoakickflip

#starker #starker fanfiction #tony stark #peter parker #tony stark x peter parker #ironspider #skylar writes #bottom!tony #top!peter

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