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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

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By My Side (Part 1)

Summary: While at home one night, the reader, an actress, is almost kidnapped and at her friend’s suggestion she hires Jensen as her bodyguard. While the pair doesn’t get along, an incident at the reader’s new home leads her and Jensen to taking a drastic measure...

Masterlist

Pairing: Bodyguard!Jensen x reader

Word Count: 3,900ish

Warnings: language, minor injury, attempted kidnapping, drugging

A/N: There will be no taglist for this series. Please check out the masterlist for posting dates/times. Enjoy!

_________

“Get the fuck off!” you said, kneeing the man that was halfway through dragging you down your stairs. You threw a punch and a kick, swinging more than a few times before the grip on you fell away and you booked it for the front door. You sprinted outside and down the driveway, dashing across the street and banging on your neighbor’s door.

A light came on and you glanced over your shoulder, spotting the guy dressed in black and wearing a mask jog to the end of your driveway.

“Shit, shit,” you said, a strong arm grabbing you and yanking you inside before you could even turn back around. The door slammed shut after you and you took a deep breath, your neighbor standing there in his boxers, saying something to his wife in the background.

“Y/N, are you okay?” said Jared. You straightened up and nodded, his eyes going wide.

“Gen! Tell them she needs an ambulance too,” he said.

“I’m fine,” you said as he walked you to his kitchen and sat you down at the counter. Gen was in there, on the phone with the police it sounded like, as Jared went to a cupboard. He pulled out a red bag and then was walking back over with a wad of bandages, holding it up to your forehead. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” he said. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” you said, pressing your hand to your head, seeing the half secured zip tie stuck on your other wrist. There were sirens in the distance and you shut your eyes.

“Hey, no sleeping. You might have a concussion,” he said.

“I’m not sleeping,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut. “Fuck.”

“It’s okay,” he said, the sirens getting louder before there were flashing lights in the window. Gen walked over to the front door, letting the police in. About four officers came inside, one of them immediately coming over to you.

“What’d he look like? How many?” he asked.

“Uh, all in black, with a mask. He was white I think from what I could tell. Maybe six foot, average build, strong. It was just the one as far as I know. Last I saw him he was at the end of the driveway before my neighbor let me in his house,” you said.

“You two, call it in for backup and start looking. Jones, get a full statement from these three. Start with the vic. Medics will want to look at that head,” he said. “Which house is yours?”

“Right across the street. Red front door,” you said. He left and the other cop in there pulled out a plastic bag from his back pocket.

“I need to cut that off for evidence,” he said, glancing at your wrist.

“Should we do anything?” asked Jared as the cop made a cut and bagged the plastic tie.

“I would keep pressure on that wound for the moment,” he said, writing on the bag and taking out a notepad and pen. “Alright. Let’s start from the beginning.”

“I was asleep less than ten minutes ago in my bed and I woke up to someone touching my arm and I found that tie thing on me and the guy tried grabbing my other arm but I rolled away. I got caught up in the covers while I was running away so he caught up to me in the hall outside my bedroom and I just started hitting what I could and then he tried to pull me downstairs and I hit him some more and then he let go and I ran over here.”

“How’d you sustain the head injury?” he asked.

“Well he was hitting me too when I started fighting back,” you said. “I was half-awake.”

“Okay. Sir, I’m going to need to ask you a few questions now.”

Three Hours Later

“Hey,” said Jared, setting a cup of tea down at his breakfast table. He rubbed your back and you sighed. “Rough night huh?”

“At least I don’t have a concussion,” you said, touching your butterfly bandages on your head.

“Police said your alarm wasn’t on.”

“So this is my fault?” you asked.

“No, I didn’t say that. I am saying that you and Gen have a very popular show together and if she didn’t have me around, I’d want her to have a bodyguard, maybe even full time,” he said.

“I have had this conversation with my manager multiple times. I’m not getting a bodyguard. For events and conventions, fine, I’ll have one. At work? In my life? No way,” you said.

“Y/N, you know I used to be in the army. Then I was a cop. Then I was on a SWAT team before I retired to become a stay at home dad,” he said.

“Yes. You’re an adorable scary badass. What’s your point?” you asked.

“When I worked SWAT, I worked a a few kidnapping cases. The honest truth is sometimes we don’t find you until it’s too late or we never do. It’s not like a movie. It’s not like your guys show and someone swoops in. No one shows up out of the blue to save you. You save yourself or you don’t get saved. Rarely do we get you out of that situation.”

“Again, what’s your point?”

“My point is whoever that person was, when they come back because they will come back, Y/N, and when they do, they’re not going to be that sloppy. They may drug you. They may knock you out. They could do a number of things but your chances of getting way again would be extraordinary. I love ya and I’ll always protect you. But next time, I might not be able to stop something bad from happening. You alone over there...I wouldn’t know until it’s too late.”

You were quiet, playing with the tea bag in your drink as he drank from his own mug.

“I don’t want a stranger coming into my home,” you said.

“Y/N, Gen and I want you to stay here for as long as you-”

“I meant a bodyguard, Jare. I don’t want somebody I don’t know to start coming into my life and controlling it.”

“I have a friend from my army days who does that kind of work. He’s between jobs at the moment. I’ll vouch for him,” he said.

“You’re not gonna give me a choice on this, are you,” you said.

“Gen and I are moving. A bigger place,” he said. “We think it’s a good idea if you had a change of scenery too.”

“You think she’s in danger too?”

“We don’t know but she’s five months pregnant. We don’t want to risk anything,” he said. “It’s just a thought.”

“Can...can I stay over here a few days? While I figure out what I want to do?” you asked.

“Yeah, of course, Y/N.”

Two Weeks Later

“I like the new place,” said Jared as he helped you carry in the last box.

“It’s uh, a bit big,” you said. “But the owner wanted to sell fast and I wanted out of the other one fast so it worked out.”

“Seems like a lot of space for one person,” said the man walking in through the open front door. He was in a pair of dark jeans and a blazer, a tee shirt underneath. You stepped behind Jared but he chuckled. “Really Jare? Didn’t mention I’d be stopping by?”

“Y/N, this is my friend Jensen. I told you about him. You said you were interested in meeting him,” said Jared.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” said Jensen, holding out a hand.

“Y/N please,” you said as you shook it.

“I prefer to keep things professional,” said Jensen. “It’s easier that way. So, this is the new place, hm? Which room will be mine?”

“There’s a guest suite over on the first floor you can use,” you said.

“Where’s the master?”

“Upstairs.”

“Preferably I’d like to be in a room closer to yours,” he said.

“Fine. Take the guest room upstairs,” you said. “This is just a test run remember.”

“My contract says this is a six month test run,” he said as he looked around. “I see you’re still moving in so perhaps we can go over some of our new procedures in the morning.”

“Sure,” you said.

“I’ll move in my belongings then,” he said. “I don’t have much.”

“Mhm,” you said. He nodded and headed back outside, Jared catching the look you gave him.

“What?” he asked.

“He’s gonna be a joy to live with,” you muttered.

“He’s quiet until you get to know him. I wouldn’t have recommended him if I didn’t trust him. He’s saved my life before. I know he’ll have your back,” said Jared.

“Yeah,” you said, his phone going off. “Jared, go. I know you’re already late for the baby checkup.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I only have boxes left to unpack anyways. Go on. I’ll talk to you guys later,” you said. He gave you a wave on the way out, leaving you to stare at the pile of boxes sitting on your kitchen floor. You cracked your back and started to work, catching Jensen move in a few duffel bags of his own. He left and wandered around outside eventually, allowing you to try and get the essentials all stored away.

By the time it was seven, you were exhausted but your bedroom, bathroom and kitchen were all set up. You plopped down on the couch, closing your eyes. They blinked open when you felt a presence standing over you.

“I’ve done a review of the property. I’d like to have an upgraded security system installed tomorrow,” he said.

“Whatever. Just put it on the card my manager gave you,” you said.

“I’d also like to consider hiring an additional person to monitor the system at some point. They can be remotely based,” he said.

“Like I said, whatever,” you said, closing your eyes again.

“I assume I have access to use the kitchen as I desire,” he said.

“No smoking. No drugs. No random hookups you bring here and as long as you don’t bug me and stay away from my ice cream, we’ll be fine,” you said.

“I can agree to that. As long as you follow my rules, we’ll also be fine,” he said. You laughed and sat up, walking to the kitchen to find your phone. “Do you think that’s funny?”

“I think the fact you think you’re going to be making rules in my home that I paid for is very funny,” you said. You took the phone to check on the pizza and wings you ordered for yourself, Jensen walking over and stopping in front of you. “Can I help you?”

“You are paying me a very large sum of money to keep you safe. If you don’t listen to what I say then I can’t guarantee your safety,” he said.

“Let me get something clear. I’m doing this to appease my friends and manager. Do whatever you want around here but don’t start telling me how to live my life,” you said.

“I took this job as a favor,” he said, snatching your phone out of your hand and tossing it on the countertop behind him. You scowled and he walked forward, forcing you to back up until your back hit a wall.

“Dude, backoff.”

“Pretend I’m that man that tried to take you before. What do you do? Right here and now. What’s your plan?”

“I’m serious,” you said, trying to brush past him and getting a light shove into the wall for it. You glared at him but he held his ground, pushing you again when you moved.

“I’m serious. Tell me what your plan is. Better yet, show me,” he said.

“I don’t care if you are Jared’s friend. I am this close to punching you. Move now.”

“I said show me.”

You narrowed your eyes and brought up your knee to hit him in the groin. He pushed it away before it connected though and you were off balance, Jensen grabbing you and yanking you away from the wall, putting you in a headlock and tugging your arms behind your back.

“Don’t go for the most obvious move in the world,” he said. “Now that didn’t go how you wanted it to. What’s the plan now?”

“Get off,” you growled, trying to stomp your foot down on his but he moved it back and kicked out your ankle, making you fall back against him. He picked you up and you started moving your legs, Jensen suddenly dropping you down onto the hardwood floor. You hit your knee and winced, a hand suddenly grabbing the back of your shirt. “Alright! I get the fucking point.”

“Do you?” he said, squatting down beside you. You tried pushing his hand away but it tightened and you tried throwing a punch, his grip almost too hard now and his free hand easily blocking the hit. “You have no plan. You’re too small and too weak to overpower someone. You can’t afford to have no plan. The thing is, when it’s real, you’ll be panicking and you’ll have no time at all to think of one.”

“Stop touching me unless you want me to call the cops on you,” you spat out. He moved his hand away and stood, staring back at you.

“You need to do what I tell you if you want to stay safe. I will teach you what to do if you’re in that situation for whatever reason. But the rules keep that situation from happening in the first place. Understand?” he said.

“Understand that you are fired as of now. Pack up your shit and get out of my house,” you said. You got to your feet and he raised an eyebrow. “I’m your boss and I can fire you whenever I want. Get out.”

“How on earth Jared is friends with a someone like you I will never understand,” he said. He headed upstairs and the doorbell rang. You forced a smile for the delivery guy and took your food back to the kitchen, digging in before Jensen was even tossing his first bag down the stairs. You rolled your eyes and were on your third slice by the time he was walking downstairs.

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” you said. He shot you a dirty look, his head cocking as he set his bag down. “Oh now what?”

“You look really pale,” he said, walking over to you. “Your pupils are huge.”

“You know what else? You are so not as hot as you think you are,” you said, reaching for another piece of chicken before he smacked your hand. “You are this close to me calling...someone.”

Your head got dizzy for a second, Jensen grabbing your arms and setting you down on the ground.

“I feel funny,” you said, tipping over and resting against him. “Really, really funny.”

“You just got drugged,” he said, using his phone to dial a number. “No more takeout. Got it? Obviously this person knows you moved. I want to put someone at the house full time.”

“I’m gonna fall asleep now,” you said, shutting your eyes.

“No, nope, try to stay awake,” he said. You hummed and he grabbed your face. “Y/N. Try.”

“You’re really pretty for a grumpy grump,” you said.

“I thought I wasn’t hot. Just stay awake for me, Y/N,” he said.

Twenty minutes later you were in the ER with an IV in your arm and feeling a whole lot of crappy. Jensen said something to a doctor before he walked over to the stall you were in and stood by the bed.

“Hey. Police are at your house. Neighbor said they saw a silver pickup parked down the street. Seemed shady. It was gone by the time they got there,” he said.

“Course it was,” you mumbled.

“You more with it again?” he asked.

“Yeah. Feel really tired is all,” you said.

“Well I called your manager. He said he’d be here soon so I’m gonna head out,” he said.

“Huh?” you said, sitting up as he started to leave. “Wait.”

“Last I remember, you fired me. Nothing has changed,” he said. “Goodnight.”

“Wait,” you said, grabbing his wrist, the effort taking more energy than you were anticipating. He didn’t shrug you off, instead gently setting your hand back in your lap and pushing you to lay back down.

“You should rest. There’s a cop outside the room,” he said.

“Stop. Just...sit down,” you said. He sighed but sat on the edge of the bed, raising an eyebrow. “How could somebody already know where I moved? Hardly anyone knows.”

“You rent a moving truck?” he asked.

“Yeah. Movers did the furniture,” you said. He shrugged and you shut your eyes. “The movers?”

“No, probably not them. But that truck probably has GPS for mileage tracking and if this person has your credit card info, they could figure it out,” he said. “The food thing probably happened back at the restaurant you ordered from. Somebody slips in the backdoor, puts some stuff on your food and slips back out.”

“What’s your suggestion?”

“I don’t work for you anymore.”

“Let’s pretend earlier didn’t happen. Please,” you said. “I can’t...I can’t be alone right now and something feels really off about this whole thing.”

“This whole thing has felt off the second Jared told me about it. Tonight just further proved that point,” he said.

“You were in the army longer than he was, right?”

“He decided to retire, go be a cop. I stayed in. Worked on a few more specialized skills a bit longer before I left and got in this line of work,” he said.

“I’m going to assume you know what you’re doing then.”

“Yeah. I know what I’m doing. I can’t guarantee anything but I can give you some pretty damn good odds,” he said. He stared at you for a moment and looked you over. “You’re smarter than the stereotypical actress I pegged you for.”

“It had to have been someone on my team or that’s close to me in order to know that I was moving,” you said. “Or else the person never would have known to look today.”

“Someone that knows your go to takeout place too. You need to be extremely careful about who you trust right now,” he said.

“I trust Jared and Gen,” you said.

“I trust the guy with my life. I’d trust him with yours. Gen is fiesty when you piss her off but you’re her best friend. They didn’t do this.”

“Your expert opinion, what’s my next move?” you asked. He rubbed the back of his neck and made a face. “Jensen.”

“Ideally? You go off grid. I mean off grid, off grid. Middle of nowhere, no one knows where exactly. Cut yourself off and it’d give us more time to figure out who this person is and what exactly it is they want with you. If they’re as close as we think they are, they’ll find a way to sneak in again and next time, it might be my food that’s drugged. It’s a big risk to go back to the house.”

“I can’t go be alone though. What if they did find me somehow?” you asked.

“I said off grid. I didn’t say alone,” he said. “It’s an extreme approach, I’ll give you that. But it gives me more time to work on this and it’ll keep you safe.”

“Why not hire a bunch of guys to stay around me all the time?”

“Because you’re still in danger if you stay in LA and I don’t have the ability to check that many guys out. I got guys I know I can trust but they’re all over the country and the only other one here is Jared and Gen needs him. No offense but she’s got a kid with another on the way. More bodies means more priority,” he said.

“No, no. Please keep them safe too. If it’s a fan of the show, they could be in the same situation,” you said.

“I’m not going to try and tell you what to do because obviously, you weren’t a fan of me doing that before. But if you want to be able to sleep safely at night, we need to go, just you and me. Jared and Gen can know but that’s it and I mean that’s it. I can secure a safe place and everything we’ll need. But it’s going to be a drastic lifestyle change.”

“How drastic?”

“Like no internet and our electricity will run off a generator drastic.”

“If I stay here?”

“I give it a week tops before they try something again,” he said.

“We wrapped two weeks back and since Gen’s pregnant, we aren’t slated to start filming for another seven months. I’ll have to cancel some events but if I was ever going to go off grid, now’s the time to do it.”

“I will get it arranged. Do not speak a word of this to anyone,” he said.

“Jensen,” you said as he stood. “What was that back at the house? You acting all aggressive like that?”

“The last client I had, I was lenient, never taught them anything, let them push me around and dictate how I worked. They got put in a bad situation because of that. If you don’t take this seriously, then what’s the point of me being here.”

“Well wherever we go, I’m gonna need a few things. Women stuff,” you said.

“Make a list and tomorrow, pack a bag,” he said. “I want us on the road tomorrow night. I don’t care what you tell your team about why you’ll be MIA. Just tell them something so we don’t get a missing persons report on you.”

“Alright,” you said, Jensen nodding and starting to leave. “Wait. Where are you going?”

“I need to start preparing. Like I said, there’s a police officer by the door.”

You stared at him and he took a deep breath.

“How about he stays in the room with you until we’re ready to go home and get what we need, okay?” he said.

“Okay,” you said.

“Hang tight. When you’re up for it, we’ll get out of here.”

_____

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen ackles #jensen ackles au #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #au #bodyguard!AU #bodyguard!jensen #bodyguard!jensen x reader #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

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omgbubbletea · 3 years

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Dating George Weasley Would Include

Let’s get one thing straight, it doesn't matter what house you're in

Sure, it would be a bonus if you were in Gryffindor because that would mean he wouldn't have to sneak into your common room to be with you

Blood status also doesn't matter to him

If he loves you, he loves all of you

The reason you and George are together is all thanks to Fred

He had grown sick and tired of George constantly talking about you

How pretty you were

How nice you smelled

How he felt butterflies every time you smiled at him

The boy must have been in-love or something

On the other hand, Fred had found out you had feelings for George by constantly bugging you on the subject till you cracked and told him

Being the oblivious pair George and you were, neither of you had realised the others feelings

This is when Fred decided to take matters into his own hands

His plan consisted of locking both you and George in a janitors closet until you both confessed your feelings

He had told you guys to meet him in this particular closet for an emergency meeting

With the two of you being so ignorant, you walked into this closet, wondering where Fred was and why he had chosen such a weird place to meet

As soon as you guys crossed the line, that’s when Fred had locked the door

“Fred! what are you doing? Let us out!” (you and George started to yell)

“If you guys want out, then there’s something you should get off your chest first”

You both knew instantly what he was talking about

Fred’s plan was almost fool-proof except for the fact that both you and George had your wands and could just alohomora your way out

Oh, wait...

Fred had known you too well and knew you both always left your wands in the dorm during free time before dinner

“Fred this isn't funny”(George was starting to get on edge)

“Do you hear me laughing?”

The closet was small(but who said you found it a problem(; )

A couple of minutes passed

“Look (y/n)...”(George began to say slowly)

“I- I like you”

“I like you a lot, more than a friend probably should”(was that his heart pounding in his chest George could hear?)

At that moment your head shot up to meet his gaze

Did he just confess his feeling to you?

Did he feel the same?

Hope began to form in your heart

“George...”(he was ready for his heart to be broken)

“I’ve felt that way since I first met you”(a smile began to break on your face)

When I tell you that that boys smile lit up the room

Nothing more was shared at that moment except for a hungry kiss

He had been craving your lips for awhile now

Of-course the moment only lasted so long before Fred swung the door open

“Ew, gross guys!”

The two of you just grinned

If you are not in Gryffindor, then your days usually consisted of sneaking into the others common room

It’s a usual thing

Cuddling on the couch

Playing board games

Your friends(and others in your house) are used to seeing George around

Surprisingly, you guys have never been caught(thanks to the marauders' map)

He’s always waiting outside of the common room so you guys can walk to breakfast together

You guys always sit next to each other in the great hall

If you are in a different house, he will walk you to your common room at the end of the day and give you a kiss goodnight(which usually gets a bit heated)

Pet names

Darling and gorgeous are his most used

You can’t help but get butterflies every-time those words roll of his tongue

“Well hello gorgeous”

Small forms of PDA

Hand holding

Arm around your shoulder

Arm around your waist

Temple kisses

Cheek kisses

Knuckle kisses

He LOVES it when you play with his hair and just melts into your touch

I have a theory that the twins give the BEST hugs

Bear hugs that engulf you

Hugs from behind where he pulls you closer to him

(and he’s always so warm...like what?)

You love wearing his jumpers

Yes, they are always baggy on you

You love the smell of them though(strawberries, vanilla and a bit of a smoky hint)because it’s just like having George there

He gives you one of his jumpers to keep so you would stop stealing all his other ones

It’s your favourite item of clothing and you always wear it to bed

Your first “I love you” came out of nowhere

The two of you were in the common room studying for an upcoming test

You should have been in your bed by now but of-course this test was more important than your exhaustion

With papers strewn across the table and your hand cramping from writing, you continued with your work, although George had stopped

Suddenly, you had become aware of him gazing at you

“Can I help you?”

“It’s nothing, you’re just...so beautiful”

You couldn’t help the blush that bloomed on your cheeks

“I love you”

The phrase was just audible

You had looked up in shock unsure if you had heard right

George was yet to comprehend what he had said when it all hit him

“Oh (y/n), I’m sorry! It just sort of slipt out- I didn’t mean to say it- I mean I want to say it because I love you but not that-”

You just chuckled at his constant rambling

“George, calm down, I love you too”

“I don’t want to make you se- wait, what did you just say?”

“I love you too”(you said it gently)

“Really..?”(he didn't sound too convinced)

In gesture, you gave him a sweet kiss, melting into the moment

It seemed to calm his mind

Spending summer and Christmas at the burrow

Molly loves you

She knits one of her famous sweaters for you for Christmas

If you are muggle-born(or even half-blood), Arthur loves when you tell stories about muggle life

When Ron was younger, he had a BIG crush on you

Now when he thinks about it, he just gets embarrassed

Ginny looks up to you(and thinks you're a bad bish)

You and Ginny love to have sleepovers together and gossip about all the people in Hogwarts

You also get filled in on all her latest “love life” with Harry

Fred is one of your best and closest friends

He is happy that George found someone to make him happy

You’re Fred’s wing-women(although he doesn't agree because you haven’t done the best of jobs)

You guys love to tease George together

Although it’s mainly just Fred teasing you and George

“Can you guys get a room?!”

It was in those moments that Fred may have regretted locking you guys in that closet

As much as he loves you, he does get a bit tired of hearing George talk about you all-day(nothing changed since he confessed his feelings for you)

Lee is also a close friend to you

It was only inevitable for you guys to bond with the twins being best friends with him

Many times have the two of you tried to get back at Fred and George with a prank

Sadly, the twins somehow always manage to know what you guys are planning

Let’s just say they prank you guys twice as hard for trying to outdo the masters

The twins are always playing “light” pranks on you

From dying your hair bright pink

To slipping a small amount of love potion into your drink

It’s always a risk being around the two of them

They love to get you involved in their pranks

This usually means standing guard though):

You remember this one time in potions when you were first learning about amortentia

There was a fresh batch of it at the front of the class and everyone around the room was trying to get a whiff

“Do I even have to ask what it smells like to you darling?”

You closed your eyes and gave a sharp inhale

“Vanilla, candy apples and amber” (you had said it so innocently)

George’s face was painted in horror

“What?!”

He was in disbelief because he KNEW he didn’t smell of amber or vanilla

“CEDRIC?!” (the twins spoke rather loudly in unison)

“But- I- wha-”(George began to stutter on)

At that point, you couldn’t hold in your laughter any longer

“I’m only joking!”

When I tell you how quick that boy calmed down

“Oh thank Merlin”

That was revenge for staining your teeth blue for a whole week!

In all honesty, the pained look on George’s face when he realised you may not love him pained your heart

On the other hand, Fred thought it was hilarious

(If) you play quidditch for Gryffindor, then you are a chaser, otherwise, you are whatever position you got placed into

If you are not in Gryffindor, then you are always watching the quidditch game and supporting the twins(unless it’s your house playing)

He loves to find you in the crowd

You’re his #1 fan

Steamy kisses after the game

If they win the game then it’s going to be a lot more than kissing(;

He has ended up in the hospital wing a couple of times because of the game

It has never been too serious but you still can’t help but worry for him

“You know, even with a black eye and bloody face, I’m still the better-looking twin”

Fred just cracked up

“He must still be a bit loopy from all that pain killer”

If you don’t play quidditch, then George has defiantly tried to teach you

It didn’t go too well

You ended up falling off the broom at only 1 meter off the ground

Face-planted into the grass

Ended with you having a dislocated jaw

George felt guilty for the rest of the month and wouldn't stop apologising

Meanwhile, Fred had fallen on his ass from laughing too hard

Trips to Hogsmeade

Raiding Honeydukes

Dates at the Three Broomsticks

Drinking enough butterbeer to get tipsy

Lots of puns and dad jokes

You were once learning how to produce a Patronus in DA when someone had just spelled a deer

You looked over at George to see him struggling a bit with the spell

And that’s when the awful pun left his mouth

“Oh deer, I just can’t seem to produce a Patronus”

You tried to hold in your laugh

“Shove off Weasley”

He takes you to the Yule Ball

It’s a magical night

Full of dancing

Screaming the lyrics to the songs playing

Drinking fire whisky that Fred had smuggled in

Drunk snogging to the point where Snape found you guys and took 5 points off each of you

Dancing around the common room

Sneaking into the kitchens to steal food

Tickle fights(I feel like George is very ticklish)

Swimming in the Black Lake on a dare

Snowball fights in the winter

He never fails to make you laugh

He is more of the shy, reserved twin

Sometimes you just have to remind him that he is loved and noticed

He will compare himself to Fred and it will never be positive

You will reassure him and hold him for however long he needs

If what he needs is a good vent then you are ready to listen no matter what you are doing

He is more important

He is also more of the jealous twin

Don’t get me wrong, he won't go all psycho boyfriend when he sees another guy talking to you

He respects you and knows you would never leave him for someone else

But if there is flirting going on or the guy is trying to make a move

Let’s just say his temper won't last long

“Hello darling”

Que passionate kiss between George and you

“Sorry mate, she’s already taken”

You had never seen a guys face go paler

Or seen George go so smug

He always knows what to do when you're sad

He will listen to your every last word if you have to vent

Or he will hold you in his arms for hours while whispering sweet nothings into your ear if all you want to do is cry it out

By the end of it, you can't help but feel just a little bit better because of him

He loves to hear about your day and you can’t deny that he is the best listener

He low key has separation anxiety

He LOVES to spoon

Definitely the big spoon

Although he can’t help but love to be the little spoon sometimes

“Hey um...Do you mind if we?...”

“You wanna be the little spoon?”

“Yes please...”

He’s smiling on the inside

He may be a little shy in public but he’s a freak in the sheets if you know what I mean(;

He’s usually top but it drives him crazy if you switch rolls

I feel like he’s a hair puller?

Will always make sure you’re comfortable with everything

Super gentle at times

But also can be rough...

Would never do anything that would hurt you

Lots of cuddling after

He loves to give you flowers just to see you get all flustered

One time he stole flowers from the school grounds

Little did he know, Mcgonagall had seen the whole thing

“Mr Weasley, are those flowers from Professor Sprout’s greenhouse?”

The look on his face was a dead give away

“Funny story actually Professor...”

Let’s just say it wasn’t the funniest of stories

Braiding his longer hair

Showers together

Piggyback rides to class

Studying in the library with Fred(but he usually just gets bored and leaves)

He reads to you

Basically he is perfect in every way and will love you till the end

#Harry Potter #weasley #fred and goerge weasley #george weasley #fred weasley #george wealsey x reader #george weasley imagine #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley imagine #weasley twins #hp #harry potter x reader #imagine #x reader #imagines #y/n #hogwarts #weasley x reader

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glitteryfairyprincess · 3 years

Text

Peachy pageant or sth like that

(remember when I posted someone should write about Dorian getting jealous of Dariax getting kisses? Apparently that someone is me. You are welcome)

He is wearing his clothes. Dariax is wearing his clothes. His wings and his cloak and he… he looks good in it. And then he starts talking. “A peach jam." How does his brain work? Seriously. How. It is kinda charming though. And peach jam? Somehow fitting. Peach jam is delicious after all. Dorian shakes his head. Dariax is not delicious. Not that he would know anyways. He does wonder occasionally. Just out of interest, no other reason. Obviously. And the way he cares about Opal. It is sweet. Sure, he shows it with farts and childish jokes, but what would you expect from someone who thinks smearing shit into someone's beard is a funny prank.

Did Opal just kiss the dwarf? Does she like him? Or was that just an overly joyous expression of thanks? Not that it would matter. They have to focus on preparing their performance. And then there he is in that glittery outfit. His eyes sparkle almost as much as the sequins. Maybe he is trying to impress Opal. Why does that thought bother him so much? Probably because dating in a friend group is always a bad idea. Either the couple is just super annoyingly all over each other, or they break up and then the group is forced to pick sides. And Dorian really likes these friends. All of them. Equally. And he does wish Dariax and Opal all the best. But together? He just cannot see that. Dariax does have rhythm though. And he sure knows how to handle a spear. As seen in previous battles. His pee-spear. Did that woman in green just flirt with him? Also, is she trying to kill Orym? But, more importantly, what do all of these women suddenly find in Dariax? Sure, he is cute and funny and occasionally says something not completely dumb. Obviously the face of the group. Even the glorious Gilmore told him so. And his attitude. Dorian wishes he could have just a sliver of that non-caring attitude. How does he always have a smile on his lips? Except for that part where Poska told him that they weren’t a gardener. But oh well, who likes lies, anyways. Even though sometimes they are necessary. They can protect. He shouldn't feel guilty. But he really hopes that Dariax could forgive him. Or understand? Or maybe just never find out. That he'll always keep smiling like that. How are his lips never chapped? Not that Dorian pays an unusual amount of time staring at Dariax lips. Once again, pure curiosity.

Now he is a tin man. A tin man? It is very shiny. But, really? A tin man? And now Opal is running out to prance around with him. They look good together. Dorian slips into his chiffon outfit. He looks good. Good enough to balance out a tin man, if he were to walk around with him, anyways. And when he struts out and he feels eyes all over him and hears the cheering of the crowd he wonders. Is Dariax looking at him? Does he think he looks good? Or is he currently busy with Opal or that Cinna? And why, by the gods why does he care so much about what that guy thinks. Everyone else thinks he is hot. so why shouldn't he? Right? Not winning the pageant is fine. He thinks. Watching Cinna kiss Dariax and his grin afterwards? Not fine. He is angry. Why is he so angry? Maybe he did want to win the pageant more than he thought. That is probably it. It is not the kiss. Why would it be?

Alcohol. Lots of it. That’s what he needs. And sure, why not have it with Dariax and Fearne. At least Fearne hasn’t flirted with the dwarf. Or kissed him. Dorian is still wearing his outfit. And it feels good. Better even, after a few pints of ale when his confidence slowly grows. And after noticing Dariax eyes just ever so subtl…- it is not subtle. Not after a good amount of drinks. His eyes stay affixed on the muscles for quite a while. And he makes comments telling him how hot he looks. The butterflies in Dorian's stomach are surely from eating too much funnel cake. And he just likes the attention. The buzzing in his ears is just from the noise in the tavern. But. He wants to see Dariax beautiful eyes. The ones currently tracing the neckline of the almost transparent shirt he is wearing. And how else would you get someones attention to look into their eyes than to ever so gently hook a finger underneath their chin and to softly pull their face up and say: “Dariax, my eyes are up here.”

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thedevilsmemes · 3 years

Text

PINTEREST QUOTES I USE IN MY MUSINGS BOARDS ~ A SENTENCE MEME - PART 2

Change pronouns as / when needed to preferred pronoun.

“I do not do justice, I do damage. I do not do empathy, I do damage. I do not do forgiveness, I do damage. I do not do mercy, I do damage.”

“Like, you can boss me around in sexual situations but you better not try to tell me what to do in regular life.”

“I’m fine, I’ve had worse.”

“I’m meaner than my demons.”

“If I cannot bend Heaven, I will raise Hell.”

“Well, aren’t you a little ray of pitch black?”

“He was like a storm.”

“You want to play dirty? Fine, let’s play dirty!”

{ feels an emotion. } “Who the fuck authorised this?!”

“What the fuck? What the fuck is this? What the fuck?”

“Judge if you want. We are all going to die. I intend to deserve it.”

“Goddamn right you should be scared of me.”

“They wanted a monster; I decided to give them one.”

“Seduce and destroy.”

“What the fuck is intimacy? How does that work? Letting… people be close to you? What the fuck?”

“You couldn’t kill me if you tried for one hundred years.”

“I’ll do this my way.”

“I am severely emotionally unstable.”

“What, from the bottom of the heart, the fuck?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t take any orders. I barely take suggestions.”

“I send my best regards from Hell.”

“I like my coffee how I like myself: Dark, bitter and too hot for you.”

“Me and God, we don’t get along.”

“Be brave, Angel.”

“Self care is drinking three pots of coffee and getting into a knife fight with God.”

{ takes gulp of vodka straight from the bottle } “My day was fine.”

“Have I stabbed you? No. Then I am being nice.”

“Holy Shit! I’M the demon living in my house.”

“Sir, that’s my emotional support knife collection.”

“I want an ancient elaborate dagger with my name engraved into the blade as a gift. The only romantic gesture.”

“ ‘Are you a top or a bottom?’ I'm a threat!”

“Stop being so defensive! I’m just trying to hit you with weapons.”

“The more knives you have the more valid you are.”

“She’s strong but she’s exhausted.”

“She loves moonlight and rainstorms and so many other things that have soul.”

“My darling, you can’t see it can you? How like the moon you are. Both of you so timid in yourselves; hiding pieces from the world. Then, there are those rare moments when you are both full, and it becomes hard to look away. You are beautiful.”

“Calm her chaos but never silence her storm.”

“She wears strength and darkness equally well. That girl has always been half Goddess, half Hell.”

“She has been through Hell, so believe me when I say, fear her when she looks into the fire and smiles.”

“She’s proof that you can walk through Hell and still be an angel.”

“She is both hellfire and holy water. And the flavour you taste depends on how you treat her.”

“Even the mountains can not hold all you have been carrying.”

“Storm with skin.”

“She’s thunderstorms”

“Kindness is a language that the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”

“Sometimes it takes only one act of kindness and caring to change a person’s life.”

“You have a heart of gold.”

“Butterflies are the Heaven-sent kisses of an angel.”

“She who is brave is free.”

“Clever as the Devil and twice as pretty.”

“Shut up. I wear heels bigger than your dick.”

“Girls who run in heels should be feared.”

“Family is everything to me.”

“She’s an old soul that believes in chivalry, romance, and love.”

“I hate getting flashbacks from things I don’t want to remember.”

“I run on coffee and grace.”

“I’m glad I’ve got boobs… the last thing I need is people making eye contact with me.”

“Tell me to put on my big girl panties one more time… and I’ll take off my thong and strangle you with it!”

“Please read all my posts in a sarcastic tone. You know, for full effect.”

“I have one nerve left and you’re dry-humping it, go away.”

“If I offend you, cry me a river. I’ll bring snacks and a raft. I will literally float down your tears, eating chips and working on my tan.”

“When she is happy, she can’t stop talking. When she is sad, she doesn’t say a word.”

“Music becomes my best friend when nobody else understands me.”

“Act like a lady, think like a boss.”

“I know I have friends but I feel I have no one to talk to about the shit that goes on in my head.”

“She was special. She combined a mean angel and a kind devil.”

“So much pain for someone so young.”

“She’s one of a kind.”

“Red lips and wine sips.”

“Brave girl, it’s time to love again.”

“She is intelligent.”

“Sometimes, when I say ‘I’m okay.’ I want someone to look me in the eyes, hug me tight, and say, ‘I know you’re not.’ ”

“Because I’m not the kind of girl guys fall in love with.”

“I fear I will spend my life, waiting for a love story that doesn’t exist.”

“You’re a woman, use it; bring every man you meet to his motherfucking knees.”

“She denies it but, the truth is, she’s falling in love with him.”

“Hearing your heels click on the floor sounds like power.”

“She loves deeply, regardless of the love she gets back in return and it’s both her biggest strength and biggest weakness…”

“Experience raised her. Hurt taught her. Neither defined her.”

“She was not fragile like a flower was, she was fragile like a bomb.”

“Life is short; make every hair flip count.”

“I’ve always been someone who looks ‘too deep’ into something or someone. That’s because I realised from a young age that there’s always more than what meets the eye.”

“If I say ‘first of all’ Run away because I have prepared research, data, charts, and will destroy you.”

“Underestimate me, that’ll be fun.”

“You think I’m sarcastic? You should hear what I don’t say!”

“She’s a combination of sensitive and savage.”

“Stay classy, sassy and a bit bad assy.”

“She’s battling things her smile will never tell you about.”

“Ain't you ever seen a princess be a bad bitch?”

“I was told I was dangerous… I asked why? They said ‘because you don’t need anyone.’ That’s when I smiled.”

“She’s been through hell and came out an angel. You didn’t break her darling, you don’t own that kind of power.”

“Watch me. I will go to my own sun and, if I am burned by the flames, I will fly on scorched wings.”

“Her messy hair is a visible attribute to her stubborn spirit. As she shakes it free, she smiles, knowing wild is her favourite colour.”

“She’s strong. But in the back of her mind she doesn’t think that she was meant to be this strong for this long. And she wonders if there is a man out there, somewhere, who understands this.”

“She’s not for everyone and she knows it. People find her different and strange. She dances in the rain, she laughs when she cries and loves through her pain. People fear the unknown and they never knew a girl like her.”

“Don’t tell a girl with fire in her veins and hurricane bones what she should and shouldn’t do. In the blink of an eye, she will shatter that ridiculous cage you attempt to build around her beautiful bohemian spirit.”

“You provoke her until she roars and then get upset at her for becoming the monster you created.”

“Rip out his ego with your fresh nails.”

“She isn’t the sunrise; she’s the fucking sun.”

“You can’t touch a woman who can wear pain like the grandest of diamonds around her neck.”

“Watch your tongue around her. She will bear her fangs and tear you apart with all the grace of a Queen.”

“If you won’t embrace her madness, then you’ll never taste her magic.”

“Beauty may be dangerous but intelligence is lethal.”

“She is water. Powerful enough to drown you, soft enough to cleanse you, deep enough to save you.”

“Heavy is the crown and yet she wears it as if it were a feather. There is strength in her heart, determination in her eyes and the will to survive resides within her soul.”

“I wish that I could say that I am a light that never goes out, but I flicker from time to time.”

“Spoil me with loyalty. I can finance myself.”

“Shoutout to all the people with brown hair and brown eyes! We basic as fuck but we cute!”

“I feel a nap coming on.”

“Is horny an emotion?”

“I just really like thigh-highs.”

“Even though she looks innocent, she is really a perverted demon.”

“She didn’t sob or wail. Her pain was horribly discreet but as persistent and almost as silent as bleeding from an unstitched wound.”

“I don’t rise from the ashes, I make them. I’m the whole fucking fire.”

“Beautiful but destructive.”

“I’m aiming for the ‘she’s a badass and cute as hell but I wouldn’t touch her without asking’ look.”

“Loving me must be so fucking hard and I’m so sorry.”

“Some women are lost in the fire. Some women are built from it.”

“You glow differently when you’re actually happy.”

“She’s magic, that one.”

“Kicked out of Hell.”

“Red hair: the crown you never take off.”

“You’ve got a fire inside.”

“She doesn’t need a warrior, she is one. What she needs is a devout heart, and strong arms to hold her after her battles are won.”

“You are the love that came without warning: You had my heart before I could say no.”

“You want battle? I’ll give you war.”

“True evil is, above all things, seductive.”

“The Devil’s got nothing on me, my friend.”

“Haven’t I fallen far enough?”

“I’m not like them, but I can pretend.”

“I don’t like being told what to do.”

“Now I grow wings and rage, and learn how to kill.”

“Life is tough, my darling, but so are you.”

“Though she be little, she be fierce.”

“I know what this is; It’s just myself, talking to myself, about myself.”

“You underestimate my power.”

#roleplay memes #rp memes #roleplay sentence starters #sentence starters #rp starters #sentence memes

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imagineyourworld-old · 3 years

Text

Big Brother

Poe Dameron x Fem!Reader

Summary: Basically a bunch of short scenarios where you and Poe are getting closer and your older brother doesn’t like it

Warnings: Sexual innuendos, your brother being kind of a douche, some guy can’t take no for an answer

How you first met

“Poe, this is Jack Lighthill. He will be joining your squadron for this mission”, Leia introduced the stranger.

Poe stretched out his hand for the other man to shake.

“Hi, I’m Poe.”

“Jack.”

Leia looked from one man to the other. She couldn’t quite pinpoint why, but there seemed to be a hostile energy between them.

“Jack, why don’t you get settled in? Poe, I have some more questions regarding your last mission”, she said.

With a nod in the general’s direction Jack left the room, completely ignoring his new commander.

“Poe, I must ask, do you two know each other?”

Poe shook his head.

“I have never seen that man in my life, but he doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

Leia just nodded in agreement.

It wasn’t until a few days later, right before black squadron had to leave for a mission, that Poe saw Jack again. He was talking to a young woman Poe had not seen before and before he knew it he walked over to them to introduce himself.

“Good morning, Jack. Ready for the mission?”, Poe asked. He tried to put on an encouraging smile, which Jack dismissed.

“Yes.”

Poe was slightly disappointed in this new recruit. It wasn’t that he wanted everyone to love him, but Jack seemed to hate him without rhyme or reason. Poe, trying to remain professional, turned to you.

“I don’t think we’ve met, I’m Poe Dameron”, he introduced himself.

Other than Jack you took the hand he offered and shook it.

“(Y/N) Lighthill. I’m still quite new.”

At the mention of the shared last name Poe couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. You seemed nice and friendly, could you really be married to someone like Jack?

You seemed to sense Poe’s confusion and jumped in before he could ask any questions.

“I am Jack’s younger sister.”

“And she’s strictly off limits”, Jack added.

Poe was confused. Sure, he had noticed that you were pretty and had a nice smile, but he hadn’t said anything in that direction.

“Stop it, Jack. Commander Dameron wasn’t trying to flirt, he was just being friendly”, you scolded.

Your brother scoffed but his gaze softened a bit.

There was an awkward silence for a moment before Poe started talking again.

“We should get into our x-wings. It was nice meeting you, (Y/N).”

You smiled at Poe, a small gesture that set off butterflies in his stomach, though he tried to ignore that.

“You too, commander.”

Poe nodded at both of you before turning around to head to his x-wing. He was just a few meters away when you and your brother started bickering. Though he tried not to listen he did make out the words “Back off” and “up to no good” in Jack’s voice and you trying to reason with your brother.

BB8 let out a few beeps, which made Poe laugh.

“I don’t know why he hates me, but at least (Y/N) is nice.”

And pretty, he added in his mind.

Everyday life

When someone is flirting with you

While Jack didn’t grow to like Poe, over time he started accepting him as his commander and one time he even admitted that he was a good pilot. Only to himself, though, after a few drinks.

Despite your brother not liking Poe, you enjoyed spending time with the pilot. It didn’t take long for the two of you to become friends and after a couple of weeks you were nearly inseparable.

You still sat in front of your data-pad in the command center hours after the sun had set. There was just so much to do, you couldn’t afford to take a break. In fact, you were so absorbed in your work that you didn’t even hear the door opening and closing or footsteps coming near.

“I knew I’d find you here”, Poe said.

He stepped closer to where you were sitting, but you didn’t look up. Not when he sat a tray down next to you, not when Poe pressed a kiss to your hair, not even when he started massaging your tense shoulders.

“You should take a break”, he whispered in your ear.

You just nodded, not lifting your eyes from your work.

“I bet you haven’t eaten all day and are sleep deprived”, he continued.

This time you did stop working and turned around.

“You’re one to talk! You never rest when there is work to do. Just last week you fell asleep next to your toolkit while repairing your x-wing.”

Poe pulled a nearby chair closer and sat down next to you.

“And then you found me and made me eat something and walked me to my room. If I remember correctly, and we both know I do, you didn’t leave until I was fast asleep in my bed, just to make sure I’d actually sleep.”

Poe was right, that was exactly what had happened. And you had a feeling that’s what he would do with you.

“At least eat something. Then I’ll even let you finish whatever you’re working on before taking you to bed.”

You grinned.

“So, you’re taking me to bed? Are you sure that’s appropriate, commander?”

Poe hated to admit it, because you were friends and because he just wanted you to get a few hours of sleep, but he couldn’t help the rush he felt when you talked in that flirty voice and called him commander in that tone.

She’s not trying to flirt, she doesn’t know how her words make you feel, he told himself. And it was true, you really had no idea. Sure, sometimes you flirted with Poe on purpose. It was fun, he was cute and, even though you’d never admit it, part of you enjoyed when he flirted back, but today you really didn’t know what you were saying.

“(Y/N), that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Instead of answering you just put your arms around Poe and rested your head on his shoulder. You just couldn’t help it, he was making you feel safe and secure and that made you even sleepier than you were to begin with.

“While I’d love to let you sleep in my arms, sweetheart, you should eat something first and then sleep in your bed”, Poe muttered in your hair.

Just as you were about the reply a loud voice called out your name.

“What do you two think you’re doing?!”

You lifted your head, only to meet your brother’s eyes.

Jack stepped closer. He put a hand on your shoulder and rubbed it softly. And though the touch felt nice, it was nothing compared to the short massage Poe had given you earlier.

“Dameron, what are you doing with my sister?”, Jack asked.

Despite being incredibly tired you managed to roll your eyes at your brother’s behaviour.

“Jack, stop it. Poe was just bringing me dinner and trying to get me to go to sleep.”

Your brother scoffed.

“Trying to sleep with you seems more likely!”

Now it was Poe’s turn to jump in. He rarely raised his voice, not even the countless time when Jack called him Dameron instead of commander or when he told him to stay away from his little sister or even that one time he overheard Jack saying he didn’t deserve to be in command.

“That is enough, Lighthill! I am friends with your sister, whether you like it or not, and I care about my friends, that includes bringing them food and getting them to sleep and, yes, hugging them. And besides, (Y/N) is a strong, independent, capable woman, she can take care of herself and doesn’t need her big brother to yell at everyone who comes close to her.”

Despite the situation a small blush crept up your face at Poe’s words. Of course you knew he valued you, but he’d never said anything like that out loud before.

You knew your brother well enough to know that he’d either back down or explode any moment, so you decided to take control of the situation.

“Jack, I’ll finish this report and eat dinner with Poe, then I’ll come find you and you can walk me to my room, deal?”

You could tell the men weren’t really thrilled at your proposition, and to be honest neither were you, you would have preferred to spend the rest of the evening alone with Poe, but you didn’t want to hurt your brother’s feelings or risk him getting even madder at Poe than he already was.

“Sounds good”, Poe agreed after a moment of silence. He looked at you with a small smile.

“Fine”, Jack grumbled. His expression softened when he turned from Poe to you. He pushed the hair that had come loose from your ponytail behind your ear. “I’ll see you later, (Y/N/N).”

Without another word your brother turned around and left.

“I’m sorry. I’ll talk to him, tell him I don’t need his protection, at least not from you, and that he can’t treat you like that”, you apologized as soon as the door closed behind Jack.

Poe opened his arms for you again and pulled you close.

“I should talk to him as well. He should know I’d never hurt you. But I also know I’ve been soft on him, I didn’t want him to hate me any more than he already does, but he needs to realize that I am his commander and he has to show me some respect.”

Poe put his head on yours, which was once again on his shoulder.

“I am so not looking forward to that conversation.”

He waited for an answer for a few moments until your soft breathing told him you had fallen asleep.

“Seems like I’ll be the one to get you to bed after all.” He chuckled. “Sleep well, my love.”

I actually wanted to add a few more scenarios to this, but since it is quite long already I decided to post a second part instead, so stay tuned for that.

“I don’t like him”, Jack said as he joined Poe.

For the past couple of minutes Poe had been watching you. Not only were you wearing a beautiful, maybe slightly too tight, shirt that brought out your eyes, you were also talking to a new recruit.

“He’s been staring at her chest for at least five minutes now”, Poe added. Even though he was surprised he and Jack agreed on something, he tried not to let it show. One wrong move or comment could make the other man hate him again.

“Does (Y/N) not realize he’s flirting with her? Or is she actually into... him?”

Jack turned away from his younger sister and the new recruit to look at Poe.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she doesn’t realize, she’s oblivious to your flirting, after all.”

Poe opened his mouth to deny ever flirting with (Y/N) but a single look from Jack silenced him. Before either of the men could say anything else they were distracted by your laugh sounding through the hanger.

“Perhaps you should go over there and get her away from that creep”, Jack suggested. His tone was even icier than anything he had ever said to Poe.

The commander looked at him in shock. “

“You want me to go over there? Why?”

Jack took his time answering, instead he kept staring daggers at the recruit who now had his hand on your shoulder and was getting closer to you.

“(Y/N) will kill me if I intertwine. And I don’t hate you, I just don’t like you getting close to my sister. She’s too good for you.”

The confession stunned Poe. Jack didn’t hate him, of course that didn’t mean he liked him, but at least he didn’t hate him. Deep down Poe always knew Jack was being hostile because he was trying to protect you, but this statement basically confirmed his suspensions.

“At least we can agree on that, (Y/N) really is too good for me”, Poe finally said.

It was something Poe knew deep down, but hated to admit to Jack. You were everything that was good in the galaxy, like the eye of a tornado you were a beacon of hope, you offered peace and a kind smile to those around you. Where you brought peace in the middle of a war, Poe was a soldier, through and through. Where you followed orders and did you job, Poe was headstrong and took too many risks. It wasn’t just that Poe thought you were too good for him, you were too good to be true, simply as that.

“Are you ever gonna go over there or are you gonna watch that creep feel my sister up?”, Jack asked, pulling Poe from his thoughts.

Yes, the new recruit was getting closer to you. He now had his hands on your hips and was swaying with you, almost as if the two of you were dancing. And while you hadn’t told him to back off, you didn’t look to comfortable either. It was about time Poe stepped in.

“I’ll make sure he’ll leave her alone”, Poe promised the other man. Without waiting for a response he walked right over to the two of you.

Your back was to Poe, but he could still see your entire body relaxing the moment you heard his voice.

“(Y/N), I haven’t seen you all day. I missed you”, he said.

Poe was unsure of the best way to handle the situation, so he just decided to ignore the other guy for now.

He stepped closer and put an arm around your shoulder before pressing a kiss to your temple. Instantly the recruit let go of you and took a step back.

“I had no idea the two of you were a thing”, he said, finally forcing Poe to turn his attention to him.

Because he didn’t quite know what to say Poe opted for a moment of silence. He removed his arm from around your shoulders and placed it on you waist instead, rubbing soft circles where the recruit had touched you earlier. He pulled you even closer when he felt you leaning into the embrace, a warm, happy feeling overtaking his nerves.

“We’re not”, you finally said. “Poe is my best friend.”

The feeling didn’t vanish, but for just a moment it dulled a bit. Of course Poe knew you were friends, just friends, but sometimes he didn’t want to be reminded of that small detail. Especially when others though the two of you were dating.

“Is that so?”, the other man looked from you to Poe and back again. “So I guess there is no reason you can’t go out with me.”

Even though Poe didn’t think it was possible, you leaned even closer into his body. Your discomfort was clear from how tense your body got.

“I’m sorry, Matt. But I’m just not interested.”

Matt stepped closer to you once again, while trying to keep his distance from Poe.

“So you’re seeing someone else?”

And just like that Poe’s heart stopped. He knew, of course he knew he was your best friend after all, that you were single, but there was a tiny part of him that dreaded your answer.

“I am not seeing anyone. I’m just not interested in going out with you.”

Matt looked you up and down. A dark glow rose in his eyes.

“I bet I could change your mind, though. Give me a chance, babe, and I promise you won’t regret it.”

It was when he stepped even closer to you and reached out to touch you again, completely ignoring Poe’s presence, that Poe started seeing red.

“Listen, (Y/N) does not need a reason not to be interested in you. And she certainly doesn’t need a boyfriend as an excuse not to go out with you, you-”

“That’s enough!”, your voice cut Poe off before he could call the other man something he might come to regret.

You gently removed Poe’s arm from your waist and took a step away from him.

“Poe is right”, you said to Matt. “When someone says they’re not interested you should back off, whether they are dating someone else or not. Otherwise you’re signalling that you respect another man’s, or woman’s though I doubt that is the case with you, presence more than a simple no. No means no, no matter the reason.”

In that moment Poe realized three things. One, you could stay calm and keep your cool even when you were furious, a quality he admired in Leia and had never realized you possessed as well. Two, you didn’t need anyone’s protection. Not his, not Jack’s, not anyone’s. And three, he was hopelessly in love with you.

Without another word, and with his head held high, Matt turned around and disappeared down a nearby corridor. The moment he was out of sight all the held up tension left your body. You turned to Poe with the sweetest smile on your face and he felt his knees go weak.

“Thank you, my love, for trying to defend me. I shouldn’t have let this go on for that long, however, I think I led him on.”

Not wasting a single second Poe pulled you into his arms. Your body was warm and soft against his and he could smell something that was distinctly you, a mixture of the standard shampoo everyone in the resistance used, the tea you drank for breakfast every day and just a hint of grease from spending time in the hanger.

“Do not, for one second, blame yourself. You were just being nice and he tried to take advantage of that. I’m gonna talk to Leia and get him kicked out. We might need fighters, but not badly enough to put up with fuckers like that.”

A quiet laugh made your whole body vibrate in Poe’s arms.

“I appreciate that, but I think I’m gonna talk to her myself. Maybe a stern lecture is all he needs, to make sure he doesn’t bother anyone again. I’d rather never see him again, but we need every helping hand we can get and he didn’t hurt me or anything.”

Poe hated to admit it, but you were right. Of course he couldn’t get anyone he didn’t like kicked out and he was sure Leia would have told him the same thing.

“But if he ever tries anything like that again, with you or anyone else, he’s gone”, Poe agreed.

He felt you nod against his chest and pulled your arms even tighter around Poe.

You were glad he had stepped in, even though you could handle it yourself, knowing he was right there next to you and could step in anytime gave you courage. And whether he had come over because your brother, who you knew was glaring at Poe right this second, had told him to, because he wanted to be a good friend or because, as a small part of you hoped, he was jealous of someone else flirting with you, you were glad he was here.

#poe dameron x you #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron #star wars self insert #star wars imagine

67 notes · View notes

kaylaxwrites · 4 years

Text

Catch the Wind

Pairing: Matt Murdock/reader Words: 7.2k Summary: You like Matt. You’re pretty sure he likes you too. Then why does he say no when you ask? What is he hiding and why won’t Foggy tell you?Request: “How about an old friend of Foggy and Matt, who has this will they won’t they thing with Matt and she finally tries to act on it for her only to get turned down by him. His decision was because he is too focused on being Daredevil and doesn’t want her to be swept up in that so they decide to be friends, but it takes a strain on her relationship with Matt but also with Foggy too. Then like decide where it should go from there” (anon) A/N: decided to put this all in one part at an attempt for more notes lol

For me to love you now Would be the sweetest thing T'would make me sing Ah, but I may as well try and catch the wind

“Catch the Wind” - Donovan

You had been best friends with Matt Murdock for nearly as long as you could remember. As the longest—and oldest—resident of Saint Agnes Orphanage, you had been assigned to show Matt around when he first arrived after his father’s death.

You quietly knocked on the open doorframe. The boy inside sniffled and quickly wiped away his tears before turning towards you. “Come in,” he said, never meeting your eyes. At first, you assumed he was embarrassed to be caught crying.

“Nice glasses,” you offered, hoping to draw his attention away from the death of his parents—or whatever happened to his family that led him here.

The boy pushed the glasses higher up on his nose. “Oh. Yeah. Thanks, I guess.”

You stepped across the room and took a seat on the edge of his bed. “You must be special. Sister Anne would never let me wear sunglasses inside.”

“Oh, they’re…not really…sunglasses.”

He spoke so quietly, you didn’t really make out what he said. So you continued talking anyway. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Matt Murdock.”

You stuck your hand out for him to shake. “Nice to meet you, Matt Murdock.” You froze awkwardly as the kid made no motion to shake your hand. But then you put everything together—his dark glasses, the way he never met your eyes, the cane you were now noticing against the wall—he was blind. And you were an idiot. “I’m, uh, holding out my hand for you to shake.”

“Oh, sorry.”

At last, you shook hands, and you tried not to let the awkwardness sink in. “Um, so Sister Maggie told me to show you around. Do you want to go?” Matt nodded and stood, collecting his cane off the wall. You stood as well, unsure of yourself. “I’ve given this tour a dozen times to newbies, but never to a blind guy. How does this work? Do we hold hands or…?” You quickly shut your mouth. Obviously, you wouldn’t be holding hands—why would you hold hands with a stranger?

“No,” Matt chuckled. “Just give me your elbow.”

“Oh, sure.” You did as Matt said and led him out to the hallway. “I don’t know if they told you, but your room is the third one on the right. You must be lucky. You got a single room. Most of us have to share.” You directed Matt down the stairs until you were on the first floor. “We can’t go in now because they’re setting up for dinner, but the dining hall is here on the left. Breakfast is at 7 on weekdays, 8 on weekends, and dinner is always at 6.” You led Matt further down the hall and out the door. You stepped into a small, sunlit courtyard.

“This is the way to the church,” you continued explaining. “I don’t know if you’re Catholic, but you’re gonna be here real soon.” You stopped in front of the doors to the church, but didn’t go inside. “We’re required to go to Mass Sunday mornings and Wednesday evenings, as well as the weekly Mass school gives.”

“School?”

“Yeah, Saint Agnes also runs a school on the other side of the block. It’s where we all go.”

“So I won’t be able to go to my old school anymore?”

You sighed. Newbies always had a hard time finding out they’d no longer be attending school with their friends. “No. Sorry.” His face fell. “But! I think we’re in the same grade, so we should have some classes together. I remember when I was the new kid, but, hey—you already got one friend. It shouldn’t be too bad.”

“What friend?”

You nudged his shoulder. “Me, doofus.”

Matt smiled softly at you and from that moment on, you were thick as thieves.

As you grew, you slowly realized you probably had more-than-friends feelings for Matt, but you never spoke about them out loud, nor did you dwell on them very often. Matt was your best friend—your only friend—and you didn’t want that to change. So you locked the butterflies in your stomach down tight and shoved those feelings in the back of your brain. It didn’t help that as you neared graduating high school, everyone thought you were dating. You even caught the nuns who worked the orphanage whispering sometimes about how wonderful the two of you would look married—as if things would ever get that far.

When you went to college, your pool of friends expanded by one: Matt’s roommate, Foggy. Foggy quickly became your other best friend—since you were around Matt all the time, it made sense that you and Foggy would be close as well. In fact, it was to Foggy one drunken night when you confessed your feelings for Matt for the first time.

You and Foggy stumbled back to campus after a night out on the town. You, Foggy, and alcohol were never a good mix—you always tried to drink the other under the table until neither of you could stand upright. You leaned against each other for support as Foggy fumbled with his keys to the dorm. You laughed loudly when he dropped them and fell trying to pick them up, but he quickly shushed you. “Shhhhh. Matt’s trying to study,” he slurred, trying and failing to whisper quietly. Matt said he couldn’t go out with the two of you that night because he had a test on Monday morning.

You made a zipping motion over your mouth, but giggled again as you watched Foggy unlock the door. He was on his knees, the doorknob at eye level, as he concentrated on putting the key in the lock as a surgeon would make an incision. He fell on his stomach when the door finally swung open. You leaped over him as soon as you could, eager to see Matt and annoy him to stop studying.

But the room was empty.

You turned to Foggy (finally standing), almost pouting. “Maybe he had to go to the library?” he offered. You shrugged, and then collapsed onto Matt’s bed. You weren’t sure your legs would hold you up any longer.

Foggy puttered around the room, trying to drunkenly change clothes, as you snuggled into Matt’s pillow. You closed your eyes to stop the world from spinning, but that made you realize how tired you were. “You know,” you yawned, almost half asleep now, “I think that girl at the bar really liked you.”

“Who? The pink shirt?”

You nodded into the pillow. “Yeah, she kept looking at you and smiling.”

“Huh.”

You peeked open one eye to stare at him. “Are you not going to ask me why I didn’t act as your wing woman?”

Foggy’s cheeks flushed. “Uh, no, that’s okay.” His voice was higher pitched than usual. What was he trying to hide? If you could move your limbs, you would have crossed the room to stare him down. As it was, you tried to be as intimidating as you could with your face half squished in a pillow.

“Who do you like?” you asked after a moment, finally coming to the conclusion that he must have a crush on someone.

“No one. Who do you like?” he countered.

“I’ll answer if you answer.”

He stared at you for a moment before flopping back on his bed. “You know the girl from my study group?”

You quickly sat up, instantly regretting it as the room—and your stomach—swirled uncomfortably. But you pushed it aside. “Marci Stahl? You like Marci?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Don’t make a big deal about it.”

“Ooh, I am so going to have to tell her.”

“Don’t!” Foggy quickly turned to face you.

“Why not? I already know she likes you.”

“She does?”

“Um, yeah, it’s obvious.” That, and she sat with you at lunch one day and had asked about him.

“Cool,” he sighed happily, laying back down. You huffed a laugh, surprised that was all he had to say. You slumped back into Matt’s bed, eyes drifting closed. You were almost asleep when Foggy called you out on your promise. “Who do you like?”

You froze. You tried to search for a fake name, but the copious amounts of alcohol you had this evening meant you couldn’t think of one. So you sighed and figured you might as well say it. Foggy wouldn’t tell, right? And it was probably best you got it out of your system. “Uh…Matt?” you said quietly. You weren’t even sure if Foggy heard you.

But he did, and after a moment’s silence, he asked, “Have you told him?”

“Definitely not. I didn’t want to mess anything up between us and now…”

“Elektra,” Foggy finished for you.

It seemed Matt had been hanging out with Elektra more than you and Foggy lately. You tried not to let it get to you. Matt was allowed to have other friends, after all—even girlfriends—but something about her gave you a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t put your finger on the feeling or why it was there, but it worried you nonetheless.

“You won’t tell him, will you?” you asked. But Foggy was already asleep.

You were pretty sure Foggy kept this secret over the years, as Matt never once mentioned it to you. Or he was so drunk he forgot about it. That, or Matt similarly thought you should just be friends and never brought it up himself. Either was okay with you.

But now your feelings were somehow growing and you were ready for things to change.

You were hanging out at Matt’s apartment—you always did, every Friday. It was tradition. The two of you were tucked into opposite ends of the couch, watching random things on your laptop. You described what was happening whenever an audio description wasn’t available. But it had been several minutes since you last spoke. Matt hadn’t dozed off, like you originally believed, but he was lost in thought. You tried not to disturb him, thinking he was planning his opening for a case or something like that.

But the three glasses of wine in your system had other plans.

You slowly slid across the middle of the couch until you were inches away, thighs nearly touching. Matt gave no indication that he noticed you. “Hey, Matt?” you whispered after a few moments of silence. His head tilted towards you, indicating that he was listening, but he said nothing. “Can I tell you something?”

“Always,” he replied. He turned his body to face you, realizing from the tone of your voice, you guessed, that this was serious.

“I-I—uh…” you began. You heart pounded. What even were words? “Ilikeyou,” you finally breathed in one rush of words.

“I like you too.”

Your heart constricted. “More than friends, I mean.”

“I know.”

What? Your brain froze. You couldn’t comprehend. You were expected Matt to laugh you off, Matt to turn you down, Matt to do anything but that. “You—you do?” Matt nodded. “Then why…why didn’t you say anything?”

“I could ask you the same question.” He was smiling at you.

“I didn’t want to change anything. Between us. But I told Foggy once in college… I think maybe part of me thought he wouldn’t be able to keep his big mouth shut.”

“Oh, he told me.”

Your eyes widened. “He did? Oh, I’m gonna kill him.” You sprung from the couch, searching for your phone. But Matt stopped you with a hand around your wrist.

“Hey, it’s fine.” He pulled you back to sit next to him. Your thighs were pressed against one another. “I thought you wanted him to spill.”

“A bigger part of me wanted him to forget. We were really drunk that night.”

Matt’s thumb moved to rub circles on the inside of your wrist. Goosebumps raised on your skin. “I remember.” You were surprised he did. But you guessed maybe it was hard to forget the time your best friend told your other best friend that they liked you. Even if you weren’t there. You were sure Foggy gave him all the details.

Matt continued to rub circles into your skin and it was hard to think about much else. Your eyes raised to meet his. You sighed. His eyes were so gorgeous. You wished he didn’t hide them behind his glasses all the time, but you understood. Even then, you wished you could stare into his eyes all day.

Your gaze flicked down to his mouth. Before you knew it, your lips were pressed into his. He froze for a second, not returning the kiss, and you panicked. But before you could pull away, his hand was on the side of your face, pulling you closer. As your lips crashed into one another, you regretted not doing this sooner. He was an amazing kisser.

As things delved deeper, you turned to press your body tightly against his. You threw one leg across his lap and eased him back against the back of the couch. Your hands roamed—through his hair, over his shoulder, down his arms, across his chest. But when you brushed across his ribs, he gasped in pain and pulled back. You instantly sprung off of him.

“Oh, my god, are you okay?” you asked. “What happened?” You knew Matt somehow amassed a large collection of bruises and broken bones—he was just clumsy, he’d tell you ever since they started appearing in your teens. But you weren’t so sure. You’d never even seen Matt stumble once. You slapped Matt’s hands away as you reached for the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal his ribcage.

Blue bruises stood in stark contrast to his skin, surrounded by cuts and scratches of various depths. He winced when your fingers ghosted across the widest bruise—was a rib broken? Several other injuries trailed around his side and you figured his back was in similar shape.

“What happened?” you demanded once more. “Have you gone to the doctor? Were you mugged? Did you call the police?”

Matt’s hands landed on your shoulders to stop your barrage of questions. “I’m fine,” he said, but he gave no further explanation.

“That’s not fine, Matt.”

“I saw a nurse. It’s nothing that won’t heal in a couple of days.”

You breathed a small sigh of relief. But you were still left with so many questions. “Who did this to you? What happened?”

“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But it’s handled. They won’t be bothering anyone else.”

“That’s good,” you sighed. You wanted to ask more questions, but you knew Matt was being purposefully vague. Why wouldn’t he tell you what happened? Why didn’t he tell you that he was hurt? You wanted to press him more, but you knew Matt was as stubborn as a bull and there was no way you’d get any more information out of him. Tonight, at least. So you decided to distract yourself with the other question filling your head. “So…what about us?”

“We can’t.” Matt’s answer was immediate. No hesitation.

You felt as if a horse had kicked you in the chest. Your breath was knocked out of you. “What?”

“I…we can’t. There’s too many things going on and I can’t risk it.”

“What’s going on? You can tell me—you can always come to me. You know you can.”

Matt hung his head, leaning over his knees. “I can’t.”

Your eyes stung with unshed tears. Matt always came to you. You practically told each other everything. Had you messed things up by confessing your feelings?

“Does it have to do with your bruises?” you said softly.

Matt didn’t reply.

You stared at him, searching for words to say, begging for him to say something. But each of you remained silent.

Nothing.

“I have to go,” you said at last. You scrambled to throw on your shoes and gather your things.

Your heart shattered when Matt made no move to stop you.

“Do you know what’s going on with Matt?” you asked Foggy, pushing your food around with your fork. The two of you were at your favorite diner for your regular biweekly lunches.

“Uh, no. What do you mean?” Foggy’s eyes instantly darted out of the window. He fiddled with his hands. Foggy may be a lawyer, but you had known him long enough to know he knew exactly what was going on.

“I was at his place the other night and he had these bruises…” You gestured over your ribcage, indicating where Matt’s bruises were located.

“Oh. He probably fell down the stairs again. You know Matt.” Foggy chuckled nervously. He wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“Mhm,” you hummed skeptically. You stared Foggy down. Once or twice, he would glance up at you, but his gaze fluttered away when he realized you were still staring. The waitress brought your checks over and he fumbled getting his money out of his wallet and struggled with gathering his things. Before he could get up and leave, you spoke his name, forcing him to look at you. “Foggy. What’s going on with Matt?”

“Nothing, I swear—”

“Foggy.”

He looked at you and sighed. You were hoping he realized you wouldn’t back down. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why.” It wasn’t a question. It was a demand.

“He promised me not to.”

“Is he in some sort of secret blind Fight Club?”

“If only.”

You reached across the table to grab Foggy’s arms. You leaned towards him. If your college days taught you anything, you might be able to puppy-dog-eye your way to get what you want. “Foggy. Is he in trouble?” you said slowly, quietly.

He turned his head, looking away, as if to find somebody who would rescue him from your gaze. But there was no one. “Y/N, I…I really can’t do this.” His voice was weak. “I can’t tell you.” He pulled free from your grasp, standing and walking away from you. “I’ll see you next week,” he said over his shoulder as he exited the building.

You sat back in your seat, resting heavily against the booth. What was going on? There was nothing, nothing that they had hidden from you before.

At least…not that you knew of.

So why were they hiding this?

You ignored their texts and calls over the next couple of days. You were angry that they were keeping things from you. You were upset that Matt had rejected your feelings just like that, so easily. Your emotions overwhelmed you and you weren’t sure how to process them—so you just ignored them.

After about a week of the silent treatment, they sent Karen over to your apartment one night. She carried your favorite takeout in her hands as a bribe. You took it, of course, but you weren’t happy about it.

“They’re worried about you,” Karen said once the two of you were sat at your table, food dished out in front of you.

You speared a vegetable with a little too much force. “Yeah, well, they wouldn’t have to be if they would just tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m sure they have good reason.”

“You didn’t see the state Matt was in. Something big is going on.”

“Matt said he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe he was mugged and they don’t want to tell you so you’re not worried?”

“I wish that was the case.” You turned to face her. “How are you so calm about this? I mean, don’t you think something’s up?”

“I talked to him a few days ago and…he’ll tell us when he’s ready.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes. With Matt’s stubbornness, he wouldn’t tell you anything until the information leaked on its own. You’d have to wear down Foggy or…

Karen sighed. She could tell she wasn’t going to be able to get through to you. She decided to change the subject before you could rant any more.

“Seen anything good on Netflix lately?” she offered and the two of you made small talk for the rest of the evening.

A few days later, you were cursing yourself as you were backed into an alleyway. How could you be so stupid? You dropped your guard walking home for one minute and look where it got you. You knew to always be aware of your surroundings, so why did you stop to check the notification on your phone? Just one cute video sent from a friend of her dog and you were about to be robbed of your belongings…or worse.

You tried to form an escape plan—or at least a get-out-alive plan—but your brain was short-circuiting. You nearly shrieked when a dark mass seemingly fell from the sky. Your heart sped faster. Was this man an accomplice to your attacker? Would you now have to face two men to get out of this alley?

But you breathed a small sigh of relief as the man rose from his crouched position on the concrete. You had seen enough pictures in the Bulletin to recognize that this was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. In the flesh. Right here in front of you.

The masked man took only one step forward but it was enough to send your would-be attacker running for the hills. The masked man cocked his head to the side, listening for a moment, before turning to face you. “Are you alright?” he asked. His voice was comforting, like an old friend.

You let out a shaky breath. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine.” You crossed your arms in an effort to hide your trembling hands. “I wish I knew all it took to scare someone away was to wear a mask. Maybe I’ll start carrying one around.”

The man smiled, small but tense. “If only that’s all it took.”

You glanced awkwardly around the alley, unsure of what to say next. “I, um, thank you?” You cleared your throat. “Thank you,” you tried again. “I…I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up.” You tried to clamp down on your wandering thoughts, but it was hard to stop the flashes of possibilities in your brain.

“Is there anyone you could call to come get you?”

Matt. Foggy. Karen. But you still didn’t feel like reaching out to any of them just yet. You shook your head. “No. My apartment’s just two blocks away, anyway. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m okay. I’m just a little shaken, but I can make it. Thank you.”

The man hesitated a moment longer, seeming to check that you would actually be all right, before scaling the nearby fire escape in leaps and bounds until he disappeared in shadow. You took a moment to collect yourself before stepping out into the warm light of a streetlamp. You hesitantly made your way home, skittish and jumping at every little noise. You sighed a breath of relief when the deadbolt of your front door finally slid closed.

Even though you were on the fifth floor, you went around your apartment, checking that every window was locked and secured. You pulled the blinds closed for good measure. You froze when you spotted a figure crouched on the fire escape across the street, but smiled as you realized it was the masked man, seeing you safely home. Despite the evening’s events, you felt safe knowing the masked man was protecting the city.

You spotted the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen several more times over the next few weeks. You would catch glimpses of him on your walk home, spot him in shadows from out your window, heard the stories of those he saved. It was comforting, knowing he was out there. You didn’t think his persistent presence would one day turn against you.

You awoke in the middle of the night to a noise in your apartment. You laid still, ears searching for another sound. You relaxed when you heard none after a few minutes. Maybe your neighbor just dropped something, you thought. You closed your eyes and tried to fall back asleep. You tensed again at the sound of fabric rustling, realizing after a moment it was just your window curtains in the breeze. What had you so jumpy tonight? You had seen the masked man just this evening, keeping watch over the block. You knew nothing was going to happen…

You were nearly asleep when a hand clamped over your mouth and nose.

You were dazed and confused when your eyes finally fluttered open. You weren’t in your bed—had you fallen asleep working at the kitchen table again? You moved to stretch your arms and back, but something tugged tight at your wrists. You glanced down with groggy eyes to find a neatly knotted rope around each arm. You kicked your legs to find that they were similarly bound.

In an instant, your sleepy mind flashed to full clarity.

Not good. This was definitely not good.

Your eyes focused just ahead of you. Across a small wooden table was a well-dressed man with dark hair. He was sitting casually, almost lazily, with one leg draped across the arm of his chair. He was twirling a knife idly in his right hand and barely glanced at you when he spoke. “Finally awake?”

“Where am I?” you responded, giving another futile tug to your bindings.

“New York City,” the man deadpanned. You nearly rolled your eyes—you could’ve figured that one out yourself. The sounds were distant, muffled, but you could still make out the sound of the hustle and bustle of the busy city. You couldn’t exactly tell which borough you had been brought to, but you knew you weren’t in a residential area. The room you were in was big with tall ceilings, dim construction lights, and no windows aside from darkened skylights on the roof. An abandoned factory. A warehouse, maybe.

Well, isn’t that just a bit cliché.

You shivered as a draft eased over your skin. The building certainly didn’t have central AC—you were freezing in the thin pajamas you had been kidnapped it.

Kidnapped.

You had just been kidnapped. Why this was only registering now, you weren’t sure. You fought the panic rising in your chest. Hyperventilating now would be no good and you didn’t want to know what would happen if you passed out. A count of five to control your breathing, then: “What do you want from me?”

“It’s not you we want, sweetheart.” He rose from his seat, straightening his suit jacked and adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. He slowly stepped around the table and you couldn’t help but be reminded of a jaguar stalking its prey. You tensed when he disappeared behind you, but he was only gone for a moment before tossing several issues of the Bulletin across the table. “It’s him.”

You cautioned a closer look at the papers in front of you. Featured on each page was a different grainy photo of the man in the mask, Daredevil, whatever they were calling him these days. “I don’t—I don’t know him.”

“You don’t?” The man—your kidnapper—pulled out a few photographs, placing them slowly in front of you. The first was of you and Daredevil walking side by side. It was taken shortly after he had saved you from that alley, you realized, when he escorted you home. The second was a picture of the fire escape landing just outside your window. You were leaning out the window, handing him a bottle of water—the defender of Hell’s Kitchen needed to be hydrated, right? But glancing at the third picture, you were unsure of what it had to do with you. Until you realized it was of him kneeling on the rooftop of the building across from yours.

“We’ve been trying to track him down,” your kidnapper continued, “as he’s been interfering with several…business ventures of ours. He’s been very hard to locate. Fortunately for us, your apartment is one of his more…frequented locations. We just want to know who he is. Then we might be able to…set you free.”

“But I don’t know him!” you insisted again.

Your kidnapper retrieved a knife from his pocket, sliding the flat of it up the side of your arm. “It would be easier on the both of us if you just told me his name.”

“It would be easier if you’d just listen! I don’t know—” Your words abruptly cut off as the man slid the point of the knife against your thigh—not deep, but enough to slice through your pant leg and draw a thin line of blood. You could almost laugh. You were expecting much, much worse. “That’s the best you could do? I’ve had paper cuts worse—”

Your eyes widened. Why were you mouthing off at a time like this? Why would you say that? Stupid, stupid, stupid… In a flash, the man’s palm struck across your cheek, turning your head sideways. You tasted blood. Your lip was split. Fantastic.

“I just need a name.”

“I don’t have one!”

“Then let’s just hope he finds you in time.”

“What? No, please, please!” you shouted as his fist collided with your temple.

It was a slow night for Matt. He hadn’t stumbled across any emergencies needing his assistance nor could he hear any in the surrounding area. The night was almost too slow, it seemed. Without anything to do, he jogged across rooftops until he reached your apartment building. He always told himself it was just part of his nightly sweep of the neighborhood, but deep down, he knew it was more than that.

It had been weeks since you’d talked to him—well, talked to him as Matt, that is. You had been his best friend for nearly two decades now. It pained him every day the two of you didn’t talk.

But it wasn’t like he didn’t understand.

He rejected you. He probably broke your heart and, to top it all off, he was hiding a huge secret from you! He understood why you were giving him the silent treatment—he’d probably do the same if the roles were reversed—but he was thankful he could still at least check on you every day, even if it was as the Daredevil. He just wished you wouldn’t take it out on Foggy, too.

Foggy was torn, to say the least. He hated to see his two best friends apart like this and hated knowing he had contributed to it in some way. He wanted to tell you Matt’s secret, he really did! But he couldn’t. He desperately wanted to tell you so you could talk some sense into Matt, get him off the streets every night, but he couldn’t betray Matt’s trust like that. Even as much as he wanted to. He’d tell Matt as much, but things were already tense between them as they were.

Shaking his thoughts aside, Matt stepped gently onto your fire escape. He first noticed the cool air seeping out the window to your apartment. How many times would he have to remind you to lock it? He made three quick raps against the pane, alerting you to his presence. He waited for you to answer, but you never showed. He turned his attention away from the city and directed it to the inside of your apartment. But…he couldn’t hear you.

He could hear the loud thumping of the heartbeat of your upstairs neighbor and the quieter beats of her two cats but not you. He slid your window open wider and slipped into the space of your kitchen. The air was still. You hadn’t been here in a few hours. Dread pooled deep in his stomach.

Matt pulled his phone out of his pocket. Normally, he left it behind, but part of him hoped you would end your silent treatment one of these nights. Whatever the reason, he was thankful he had it. He just had to assure himself that you were okay—perhaps you’d gone to the store or out to a movie with a friend. He quickly dialed your number, paling when he heard your phone buzz on your bedside table. He hung up. Foggy’s number was next.

“Matt?” Foggy asked groggily, disoriented from waking up and confused that Matt was actually calling him.

“Have you heard from Y/N?” Matt asked quickly.

“No. Why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I just…stopped by her apartment and she’s not here. She’s not answering her phone.”

“I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably at a friend’s place. Asleep. Like we should be.”

“Yeah. Goodnight.” Matt ended the call, nearly throwing the phone across the room in frustration. Something wasn’t right about this. He paced across your apartment, freezing when he caught the scent of…cologne? His heart dropped a little. Maybe you found somebody to replace—

His mind made the connection. That was the same cologne as one of the crime bosses he’d been following.

This time, he did throw his phone across the room.

You realized at some point you’d gone unconscious. You awoke to a throbbing in your skull and sharp pains across your abdomen. You couldn’t feel the rest of your body, but you generally felt like you had been hit by a truck. The taste of blood was heavy on your tongue. You pried your eyes open, but everything was blurry. Was one of your eyes swollen shut or just could you not see from the pain in your head? You pried your eyes open further and winced. Swollen. Your eye was definitely swollen.

You couldn’t catalogue any other specific injuries. All the pain swelled together, indistinguishable from one another. You thought maybe a finger was broken, but you couldn’t tell for sure. It definitely hurt every time you tried to flex your hand, though. You also realized deep breaths were something to steer clear from.

Your captor noticed your movements and stepped into your field of vision, leaning against the table in front of you. “Back, are we?” he asked. He casually bumped your knee with his, almost affectionately. You hissed from the pain the movement caused.

“Didn’t…didn’t think I could leave,” you wheezed. You’d certainly begged for it earlier. But your kidnapper made it clear the Devil arriving would be your only hope. Your kidnapper…you really needed to give him a name.

“Not yet.” Your captor—Zane. Yeah, let’s call him Zane—picked up a knife from behind him and twirled it in the air. You tensed, waiting for the pain to come, but he just continued to stare at you.

“Okay, listen,” you begged. “I’m weak. I’m weak, I know I am. I’m weak to torture. If I knew anything, it’d have spilled already. You’re good—you’re good at what you do, but I don’t have anything—”

“Flattery gets you nowhere. Besides, that isn’t even the goal anymore.” A glint from the knife was your only warning before it was embedded in your thigh. You screamed, begging, pleading, that your hero would find you.

Your bloodcurdling scream sent ice down Matt’s spine.

He had been poised outside the warehouse, waiting, listening, trying to find the best course of action to rescue you. But that sound had him throwing caution to the wind. He dove through the nearest window.

Three men were in this hallway. Matt dodged a bullet one of the men fired before ripping the gun out of his hands. A solid strike from the butt of the gun rendered the man unconscious and Matt turned to face the other two. His mind turned to autopilot as he incapacitated his enemies. Every move was instinctual, every hit uncaring.

At last, he found where you were being held in the center of the building. He tensed as he stepped into the room, hands raising in a sign of no harm. You were being held at gunpoint. Every step he took pressed the gun tighter into your temple, so he froze, thirty feet away from you.

Tears were streaming down your face. You knew a gun was being held to your head, but you weren’t conscious of much more than that and the knife still hilt-deep in your leg. Ringing in your ears drowned out all other sound. You weren’t sure how the Daredevil made it across the room or took down Zane, but you instinctively reacted when hands pressed down on your shoulders.

“No, please, stop!” you begged. “I don’t know who he is, I swear.”

Slowly, your senses came back to you. “Hey, it’s me. Calm down,” you heard. Your eyes fluttered open. The masked man blearily came into focus. You wished you knew what he looked like. He’d probably have such gorgeous eyes… “Y/N, hey.” A hand tapped the side of your face. “I need you to stay awake, okay? I’m gonna get you some help.”

“My eyes closed?” you mumbled. You were trying to stay awake, but your eyes had plans of their own.

“Yeah, they did.” He knelt down to untie the rope around your wrists and ankles. Once free, he tucked an arm under your knees and behind your low back. “This is going to hurt. I’m sorry.” On a count of three, he lifted you into his arms and you were out like a light.

You groaned some time later as you were laid gently on what you thought to be a couch. You couldn’t tell where you were—higher thinking was on the backburner currently. The pain quickly erased any thought that came into your mind. You fought to open your eyes, though. You had to know if you were safe.

You were in a small apartment, on a living room couch like you originally thought. An expansive first aid kit was spread on the coffee table next to you. Several of the tools were bloodied; several packages were ripped open. You raised your eyes higher to find a woman and a man having a heated discussion. The man you knew—it was the Daredevil. You could tell even though his back was turned. The woman, though…you weren’t sure her identity. She wore blue, bloodied gloves and the ears of a stethoscope were around her neck. You caught the last of her argument.

“She needs a hospital, Matt. Only surgeons are qualified to remove impaled objects. And I, as good as I am at stitching you up, am not a surgeon.”

You thought hard to make sense of the words. Who needed a hospital? And wait… “Matt?” you croaked. She said Matt? Daredevil instinctively turned at the sound of your voice and you gasped at what you saw. His mask had been removed. You met the eyes of your best friend. Matt Murdock. “What? It’s you?” Matt sighed and ran a hand over his face. Fuck. This was everything he was trying to avoid. “This was why you had those bruises?” He nodded. “Foggy knows?” He nodded again. This was too much for you to wrap your head around.

Matt knelt by your head and took one of your hands in his. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry. This is why I couldn’t tell you, why we couldn’t be together. I knew someone was going to use you to get to me. It’s all my fault—”

You stopped his tirade with a whisper of his name. “Matt, it’s not your fault.” You reached up to wipe a smear of blood off his cheek. You weren’t even sure who it belonged to—you, him, or one of your kidnappers. “It’s not your fault. We’ll talk about this later. Right now I’m in a lot of pain and getting a lot of blood on a stranger’s couch. I need to know what the plan is.”

Matt turned to the woman and then sighed. “This is my friend Claire. She’s a nurse at Metro General. She’s going to take you to the hospital, okay?”

Matt moved to stand, but you gripped his arm. “You’re not going?”

“I’ll meet you there as soon as I can. I have to change clothes first. I can’t show up looking like this.” He gestured broadly to his bloodied suit. Your grip tightened. You didn’t want him to leave you. “I trust Claire with my life. She’s safe.”

You slowly loosened your grip. “Be fast,” you whispered. Matt nodded.

He and Claire loaded you into the passenger seat of her car. Matt pressed a kiss into your temple before closing the door behind you. Soon, the car was moving and you bared your teeth through the pain each turn and bump caused. Claire was a constant stream of “sorry.” You fought with everything you had to stay awake, but with the adrenaline gone, you felt every injury at full volume. But one ginormous pothole was all it took for your strength to shatter.

You groaned as you came to. Your eyes fluttered against the bright lights, but once they adjusted, you found you were in a hospital room. “I want to stop waking up in random places,” you whined. This was the third strange place you had woken up in since…however long it was since you were last at your apartment. A calendar on the wall said it was Sunday. So, two days.

Matt startled awake at the sound of your voice. You glanced over at him. He’d been trying to sleep in one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs. He had dark circles under his eyes, worse than usual. Had he been here this whole time? “You look like shit, Matt,” you said.

“Y/N, I—” he started, but you cut him off.

“You don’t have to apologize. I understand now, I do.” Matt slid his chair across the floor until he was right by your side. You reached down to take his hand.

“But if I—”

“There’s a million things both of us could have done differently to not end up right where we are. The blame’s not all on you, Matt.”

He was silent for a few moments. He pressed the back of your hand against his lips as he thought. “How are you not mad at me?” he eventually asked.

“They got me on the good drugs right now, I think. But once they release me…ooh, you’re in for it.” You squeezed his hand, smiling.

“Yeah?” He returned your smile.

“Yeah.” You sat quietly for a few moments, your heart monitor filling in the easy silence. “So are you really blind? Or is that something to throw off people from finding out your secret identity?”

“You think I’ve had an alter ego since I was ten?” he laughed.

“You never know,” you shrugged. You burrowed deeper into your pillows. “I think I’m going to take a nap now. Will you stay?”

“Always.”

You were nearly asleep when you had to murmur one last thought. “I love you, Matt.”

“I love you too.”

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil imagine #mcu imagine #marvel imagine #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock/reader #repost #kayla rambles #mine

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jae-daddy · 3 years

Text

THE BLESSED

jaebum and jinyoung au fantasy!au royalty!au

your blessed highness played by park jinyoung

pair: jinyoung x jaebum x reader genre: fantasy, royalty, romance, mature a/n: I haven’t posted anything in a while and this isn’t duff or red rose lol, but I thought why not just share it with y’all. its like a super duper loosely not thought out at all, like I was bored so wrote this kinda of story. it was like the first chapter of a book I would like to write, but I think my writing isn’t on that level yet, but -- okay - alright. hope y’all enjoy it. not edited.<3

ps: the Blessed is played by Park Jinyoung! Blessed is bless-sed the whole story, not blessed <3 don't steal this plz, y’all.

A small yellow butterfly appeared in front of you. You got ready to flinch and step away in fear, but you weren’t scared. It felt as if it was looking at you, and suddenly you could see it’s eyes.

It blinked at you, flying in closer, making you crossed eyed before flying back away from you. It flew a few steps away and stopped, turning back, almost telling you to follow.

You walked in its direction and it continued, going slow at first and then slowly speeding up. You chased after it, feeling a bubble of laughter leave your chest as you asked it slow down. It teased for a few more seconds, before slowing down and then coming to a stop completely.

You watched its beautiful golden wings flutter, staying a float in the winter wind. It looked out of place with all the snow blanketing the mountains behind. You took in the scene, the haunted looking house further up the path of the fence in front of you. The melting wooden fence wasn’t a good deterrence to keep out anyone or anything, but the falling apart house matched the aesthetic and gave a clear warning not to enter.

“Why here?” You softly asked the butterfly. It kept fluttering, keeping afloat. It’s big eyes watching you expectantly.

And then you heard it.

And you remembered you had been here before.

The scream tore through the silence, once again.

It was familiar.

And then again.

The voice cut through your skin, crawling into your flesh. You began walking towards it; past the rotting fence and towards the cement stairs of the ageing house.

Your hand reached out, about to push the hanging door open, when it all disappeared.

It was all dark, there was nothing.

And then a voice; his voice.

“Y/n.” It whispered.

You breathed a name you didn’t know as you searched for him in the chocking darkness.

“Jaebum.”

You woke up to the sound of your aunt screaming downstairs. Your night dress clinging to your body, as your skin glistened with sweat.

You closed your eyes, sighing as you sunk back into your bed.

It was an odd dream to have. You knew that, but you couldn’t really tell anyone about it. You had tried telling your little sister once, and she looked at you as if you were mad.

She found having dreams in itself strange. She said she only dreamed sometimes, and they were simple. Dreams about her in a meadow, reading. Dreams about her missing the latest ribbon price-downs at Diana’s. Dreams that reflected her normal every day life.

Nothing of this sort; nothing strange or horrible like hearing a strange man’s screams of agony.

Never nothing out of the ordinary, just normal every day dreams.

But you, you had the strange dream again.

Once again, you were back at that little old building. The wood damp, rotting, almost falling apart. The snow covering it and the land around it as far as your eyes could see. And that strange little butterfly.

But this time you found something new. You had gotten something new, a name.

You opened your eyes, staring at the planks of wood. Your eyes tracing the vines of flowers your sister had painted on to them. The purple, pink and yellow blooming delicately across the slanting ceiling. Your lips pursed as a nervous feeling pricked your heart.

“Wake up and help me, will ya?” Your aunt’s loud voice shouted through the floor beneath you. You closed your eyes once again, but this time in frustration.

You had just woken up and she had already started. “Your mother, Mother bless her soul, if she had been alive she would be disappointed to see such a lazy bird as her dingy. I’ll tell ya that, y/n.”

You groaned as you sat up in your bed. You stared blankly at the wall as you wrapped your hair into a bun before securing it with a clip. You walked towards the bath, contemplating if you should clean yourself now or after doing your chores.

“The pigs are changing colour from living in all that filth, girl,” your aunty spoke loudly. You sighed, turning around and walking towards your bed. You picked the dress from last night, putting it on before walking to the basin.

You watched yourself in the mirror as you brushed your teeth with the herbal paste your little sister had whipped up. You weren’t really looking at yourself though. You were watching your eyes instead, and then trying to see any difference between the girl in the mirror and yourself.

Lilith, your little sister, always called you mad, “If anyone knew you as well as I do sis, you’d be burned on a stake yesterday.”

You spat out the paste, rinsed your mouth and looked at yourself once again.

You bit your lip as you saw your eyes glisten with curiosity.

It was foreign, for sure. No one in this town had that name, no one’s name was even close to sounding like it.

You froze, your chest heaving as a new sort of excitement rushed through you. You held your gaze, a terrified feeling in your gut, but a smile on your lips as you tasted the name on your tongue, “Jaebum.”

You gasped.

You gasped at how that simple word made you feel. You felt a sadness rip through your heart and tears come to your eyes. You felt a sort of mourning ripple through you from that name. Your tongue savouring the taste of it as if it missed saying it already.

“Jaebum,” you breathed once again. A tear fell from your eye, but you were smiling so brightly you were sure if someone were to see you’d be taken to the Giver this instant. But you couldn't find it in yourself to worry about that, not when such happiness and sadness sore through your body at once.

You bit your lip, scared to say it again. You wiped the tear from your chin, as you stared at yourself. It didn’t look like you.

The girl in the mirror didn’t look you. You leaned in, so did she. Her actions matching yours, but it wasn’t you. Your burrows furrowed together, your face less than an inch away from the reflection.

“Keep on admiring ya’self all day then doll,” your aunt walked in, banging the door open as she stood outside your room. She was a fierce thing for a woman her size. Even when you towered well over her, she still intimidated you as she stood there with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face, “Don’t ya worry. Ya little sis and I will get it all done and sorted. You rest and spend the day in front of the mirror.”

“Aunt,” you sighed, already tired. You walked towards her, your shoulders tightening as you rolled your eyes. “I was just getting ready-”

“Oh, don’t have me disturbing ya then,” she cut you off, as she began walking away. “I’ll just do everything. What is the point of having young children in this house when they can be of no help. I’m better of living alone, at least then I only work and feed myself.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help,” you groaned loudly. You knew she could hear you by the scoff that left her, before she mumbled something about the changing the water for the pigs. “I’ll do it. I’m coming.”

You were almost out the door when you turned one last time.

She was standing there, looking back at you too; the girl in the mirror.

“Did you hear?” Lilith walked into the barn as you shovelled a heap of pig waste into the wheelbarrow. You were cursing yourself for wearing yesterday’s dress. A pant and shirt would’ve been much suited, especially in this heat.

You rose an eyebrow at your little sister in question. She shrugged with a knowing smile as she sat on the wooden frame of the fence surrounding the pen.

You tried not to think about how much she looked like your mother, but failed once again. You didn’t have many memories of her, she passed away when you were three, during Lilith’s birth. But the lack of memory was made up by the photos and paintings your aunt had saved off her.

She would never let you forget your mother.

There was a photo of your mother in your aunt’s treasured box. You were reminded of it suddenly as you saw your sister perched on the ledge, smiling at you secretively. She looked just like her in the moment, only a few years younger.

“Oh, come on. Spit it out already Lily, or else the suspense will kill me before the heat does.” You groaned as you lifted another heap into the wheelbarrow, but the pile was not lessening a bit. “This stupid dress is suffocating me, and seems like all these pigs do is just shit all day.”

“That is all they do,” she replied mocking. Her dimples deepened as you shot her an annoyed look.

“If you’re just here to be a nuisance, leave. I’m already upset enough.”

“Always such a lemon,” she clicked her tongue, before she let out a dreamy sigh. “Lucas just told me the Hallow has a new master.”

You looked up at her, with raised brows. “Is Lucas a trusted informant?”

“He is if his father is helping with the opening ball next Sunday,” she smiled back.

“O’Mother, has aunt got wind of this?” You bit your lip praying she hadn’t. Your aunt, like every other older women who has nothing better to do is determined to have you married and settled.

Just then, your heard the hooves of the carriage splatter against the muddy path. Your aunt smiled almost viciously as she spotted you, “Off to steal ya the most divine suit, y/n.”

Before you could complain, she was off.

You gave your sister a tired look, which she returned with a humoured smile.

“She’s only looking out for ya,” she told you, taking the flower from her book and putting it behind her ear.

You wanted to ask her if that was from Lucas but you stopped yourself, and instead sighed, “I don’t need looking out for. I don’t need to get married. I just need to be left alone.”

“You can’t be alone forever.”

“I won't,” you pouted as you looked at her, “I'll always have ya.”

“I’ll go away and do my own thing one day.”

“Will you get married?”

“I plan to.”

“Have child?”

“Hopefully.”

“Perfect, I’ll be their Governess and Aunt.” You gave her a smug smile.

“I would have to decline, sis,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “I want children not animals.”

“Ya!”

Lilith only laughed, and you rolled your eyes before you got back to shovelling.

“So the Giver finally found someone?” She said after a moment, her voice quiet. You peeked up at her, your face falling from the serious look on her face.

“I’m afraid so,” you gave a joyless smile before continuing, “but it’s got nothing to do with us, Lily. We’re normal people, just keep ya head down and we’ll be fine.”

“Lucas told me Maem also got a Blessed and now they have nothing to eat, and their winters are colder than the Cave,” Lilith insisted, her voice filled with conviction. You kept your eyes low as you empty one more load.

You had heard of the rumours too. But you knew they were true.

You had seen members of the Maem Court in the market over the past few months. Each of them looked tattered as if they had gone through hell. It was a knowledge passed down through centuries; the pain, poverty and torment that came with a Blessed.

“This is all because of that damned Zein,” Lilith spat with anger that looked displaced on a girl like her. “If only she didn’t push for Vennesse to be registered.”

“It’s Nightfall now, Lil,” you reminded her, softly.

“Precisely!” She exclaimed, getting up from the bench and marching along the soil. “What sort of a horrendous name is that? It makes us all sound like them.”

“Just ignore it, Lilith.” You sighed, putting down the tool and reaching for her. “We don’t need to get caught up in this. All that has nothing to do with you, or me, or us. We don’t need to do anything.”

She pouted about to fight back, but you placed a gentle hand on her cheeks.

You saw the embers of the fire inside those bright eyes, and it scared you.

It frightened you.

You sent a silent prayer to the Mother and wished those embers blew out before they got any brighter. You gave her a smile, your eyes desperate, “We are okay like this. This is all we need to survive.”

“I’m afraid I cannot simply survive if the world outside is burning into the ground,” her gaze held strong as she looked at you.

“Lilith,” was all you could breath as you hugged her tight.

You looked up at the sky, where the powerful beings used to live. You tried searching for them, but there was no sign of them. But still, you closed your eyes and prayed, you prayed that no harm should ever come to your Lilith. If something was to happen, you prayed it all upon yourself.

The week flew by in a blink of an eye. You hadn't felt the days as they passed by. It all got lost in the endless cycle of work and trying to get the orders ready for the ball.

You couldn’t truly believe a ball would have brought this amount of money into the house. You had thought the people of Darkfall would’ve resented and run away from the Blessed and his ball, but it was quite the opposite.

It felt as if new life had been breathed into the court. Zein was utmost proud of herself as she strutted around the houses, checking in. When she stopped over at your aunt’s place, she looked at your aunt expectantly.

Your aunt didn’t realise it at first, but when the silence grew too long during the payment, she had realised. Zein expected the whole town to be grateful to her and kiss her feet for bringing about this change. She wanted to be treated like our saviour, and how can you charge the court’s saviour for her pig orders.

The only reminder of the ball was the countdown till the orders were due. And you kept on working until the last order, the early morning of the Sunday was picked up. Once all was finished, once the rush had died down, you were ready to have a long bath before getting into your bed and not coming out until the sun came up again.

You walked out of the barn and into the house with heavy steps, ready to march up the stairs and strip when two tiny arms attached to a tiny lady blocked your pathway.

“And where are ya off too?” Your aunt lifted a brow, quizzically. She tilted her head towards her room, where you could hear Lilith already walking around. You turned to your aunt, pouting. She just shook her head sternly, her wild curls slapping her face, “Look at the state of ya, y/n. You need attention if any suitable male is to look towards ya.”

“I think I can live without a suitable male looking towards me,” you gave her a tight smile. She peered up at you, her face turning red as she grabbed your elbow and you pulled you towards her room. “Aunt, I assure you, another beautiful fresh dress won’t change anything. Every male within our proximity is horrid.”

She moved behind you, unzipping your dress, and pushing you towards the bath, “All luck to ya then. Whispers say there are men coming from far away to meet the new Blessed.”

Before you could complain, she was already scrubbing you down. You scowled at her, telling her you’re not a child anymore. She just hit the back of your head and told you stop acting like one then.

Lilith dried your hair, steaming it with perfume. You gave in eventually, putting on lipstain and powder on your cheeks and eyelids. You turned to Lilith who looked at you approvingly.

Your aunt sighed happily in approval, before hobbling off and bringing in two long bags with the dresses. She opened one first, a beautiful white gown with soft coloured flowers along the bottom. She handed it to Lilith who looked at it in awe.

“This is beautiful, aunt,” she breathed, hugging the older lady before kissing her cheek. “Ya truly done amazing.”

“It’s nothing doll,” she smiled at your sister, watching her twirl around the room. “It was on price-downed, and I managed to steal it since I went so early. Ya pretty thing will make it look better anyway.”

“Thank you,” she sang, happily twirling with the dress on top of her.

“Now, ya turn,” your aunt looked at you with a grimace. “I couldn’t find nothing worth stealing for ya. You end up hating it no matter, just a waste of precious coins.”

“But you obviously got something for me?” You pointed to the dark bag she laid on the bed.

“I didn’t steal it, I found it.” She turned back and looked at you. Lilith walked towards the bed, clinging onto the bed post as she peered at the bag. You walked up towards the bed, as your aunt began unzipping it. “It was ya mother’s. Zeenat was a sight in the dress.”

She unveiled the dress and the first thing that came to your mind was the night. The dress was made of the darkest blue you had ever seen; so dark it almost looked black at first sight. You touched the dress, the softness of the dress like feathers against your skin.

You turned to your aunt, her eyes glistening with tears as yours did, “This is...”

She just nodded, understanding.

“Stop the sobbing. ya old ladies,” Lilith wiped her eyes before she jumped into action. “It’s almost evening, I want to get there before the ball ends.”

You had never seen the Hollow from this close. It was always from a distant, it had always been a small building at the top of the hill a good distance away from the rest of the town. But you were only realising how truly enormous it was.

Your old house wasn’t even half the size of this. Only the first level of the mansion was dwarfing your house already.

The Hollow was dark, brooding and enchanting. It was exquisite and intriguing in a way that made your heart beat. As if the golden walls, paintings and delicate designs all had secrets, all were hiding something sinister and you were a good look away from finding out and being trapped in the place forever.

You had seen a crowd before, but you realised you had never truly known what a crowd was. The coming together of the twenty big families of the town was not a crowd.

A crowd was this.

Endless streams of horses and carriages lining up the ride up to the Hollow. The halls, the waiting rooms, the ball room, not a single space in the open areas was empty. Every room had people, and noise, so much noise.

You had lost your aunt after her introduced you to the fifth male within an hour of entry. Lilith had disappeared instantly as soon as you arrived. She had spotted Lucas waiting for her by the door, and since then they had been dancing and chatting all night long.

You caught the stares of your aunt and Lucas’ mother towards the pair. They both seemed a bit taken back, but none objected. Both pleased and turned away, focusing on the daughter they had bought to show today.

“Yes, Mister,” you gave the man next to you a tight smile, trying to be polite and not poke your eyes out with a fork. “It is interesting.”

He was talking about the way the orchestra was set.

You were enjoying the music, you thought it was tasteful, beautiful and uplifting. But you had never thought hard about how an orchestra was set out. You didn’t think it made a difference, but it did.

Apparently, it made the whole performance sound much better.

“We should do this at every function in Venesse,” he commented as he took a sip of his dark coloured drink.

“Nightfall,” you corrected him. He paused as he turned towards you, his eyes widening in question. You gulped as you said, “It’s Nightfall now, Mister.”

He held your gaze for a few moments before nodding, “Right.”

You nodded, looking off into the distance at the crowd trying to find a familiar face.

“I’ve found someone I know,” he turned towards you giving you a smile. He continued, his voice no longer interested, his body already walking away. He bowed slightly, “I’ll find you again.”

“Of course,” you replied, not bowing. He stared at you, taken aback once again before walking away. You sighed, finding a wall and leaning against it.

You sipped on the strange bubbly drink being served around the room. You liked it, it was refreshing.

You finished the whole glass in one big gulp. You sighed, annoyed, as you looked around for a server. You finally spotted one and began making your way towards them.

You had almost reached them when a hand gripped your elbow making you turn around. Her sharp eyes looked at you with a forced smile, “Where have you been, dear niece?”

You smiled at her words and tone, and her grip only tightened in return. You held up the empty glass, “I was just going to get another-”

She snatched the glass of you, and placed it on the server’s plate as it passed, “How many of those have you had?”

“Around ten,” you shrugged. You drank two with every guy your aunt had made you talk to.

“Well, stop it, and follow me.” She began leading you up to the front of the room. As you walked behind her, her grip disappeared, but you continued to follow. The closer you got to the front, the more the people changed.

There wasn't noise this far up the hall. People talked quietly, holding conversations, laughing softly. You could hear the music, the sweet richness of the bass strings vibrated here. People also looked older up here.

Your eyes met a few on the way as you followed your aunt, and they looked away as if they hadn’t seen you in the first place. You frowned.

Where was your aunt taking you?

She stopped suddenly making you bump into her slightly. You looked down at her, as she peered back up at you in anger. She turned to the front, her face calm and polite.

“Your Blessed Highness,” she bowed, you followed her bowing. “It is an honour to make your grace.”

She stood, and you followed her straightening. But kept your eyes down.

“Lady Hera,” a smooth voice greeted her. You heard your aunt gasp in surprise, before bowing her head slightly.

“Your Blessed Highness,” she breathed, breathless.

“Thank you for making an appearance,” the voice spoke again. His voice smooth and velvety. It was deep, graceful and attractive. It was familiar. “I hope to one day be able to purchase an offering from your farm.”

“Anytime, Your Blessed Highness,” she replied, graciously. “We are at your disposal.”

“You are too kind,” he only chuckled.

You knew that voice.

“Forgive my forwardness, but are you not to dance tonight?”

You glared at your aunt, your eyes still cast low.

He chuckled once again, graceful and controlled, “The night is still young, Lady Hera. Would you do me the honour if I decide too?”

You pursed your lips hiding the chuckle as you saw your aunt’s knees weaken.

“Your Blessed Highness,” she gasped, and you could imagine a hand on her your chest in surprise.

“I am too old. My bones ache from walking simply. But in my stead,” you saw her body turn as she held out a hand for you. You looked up to her startled. You would have glared if this was home, but you decided not to in front of the Blessed. “I present my oldest niece, Lady y/n.”

You placed your hand in hers, and let her guide you to the front. You swallowed nervously as you lifted your gaze. Your breath got caught in your throat as you saw the most handsome male sit in front of you in his throne.

His dark eyes looked at you taking you in. The corners of his rosy lips lifting into a smirk as he tilted his head slightly to the side, studying you.

“Lady Y/n,” he tested your name on his tongue. His voice soft and intimate. You felt your cheeks get hot as his eyes remained on you. He stared at you for a long moment before turning to your aunt, “A true beauty, right after you.”

You bowed once again at the compliment, getting ready to walk away.

“Save me a dance, my lady,” he stopped you, his gaze burning you once more. You bowed again, daring to look up once more. You look away instantly as your eyes meet his dark ones.

“Your Blessed Highness,” you nod, before walking away. Your aunt follows, her hand squeezing yours tightly as you both rush away.

65 notes · View notes

doubletriplepowerbomb · 3 years

Text

Mr. Lonely part 2

Sheamus x fem reader

NON-WWE AU

Word count: +4500

Warnings: none… yet ;)

Tags: @jenn0755 @zappyzoodle @disturbthepearls @lost-in-the-stories @lithesxx @racingandreigns @rocketgirl2410 @vebner37 @therianfurry46 @littlelunaticfringe @finnbalorlover21-blog @winged-time-criminal @mrsnegan25 @xfirespritex @wefunloveruniverse @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk

Read part 1 here

I woke up at 10 am, fully clothed with a fully clothed Sheamus sleeping soundly next to me. His back was facing me and I watched his body fall and rise slowly, entranced by the freckles that dusted the pale skin I could see.

What the hell did I do?! I kissed him and he spent the night in my bed! I scrubbed a hand over my face before realizing that there was no use trying to take all this in. Whatever, at least we didn’t have sex.

I decided to try to act as normal about this as I possibly could- I wasn’t attached, we never did anything. I got up out of bed and headed straight for the bathroom.

Sheamus awoke to a comfortable bed that was not his own. He rolled onto his back and caught a glimpse of me brushing my teeth in my bathroom.

Ah could get used to this. A satisfied smile graced his face as he laid on his back, his arms behind his head. She looked different than any other girl ah see in the morning. If ah’m being honest, ah don’t stay long enough to see much of ‘em after ah’ve seen all of them.

Here ah am, though, laying in my jeans in the bed of the girl ah used to like in high school. The girl who never picked up on my flirting, never realized that there was another reason ah wanted only her to edit my essays. The girl who always smelled like citrus. She smelled like citrus last night at the bar too. Maybe that's what fucked with my head.

Sheamus turned onto his side to catch a glimpse of the clock on his phone, 10:05 am. At this point, ah would have been long gone. A girl sometimes likes to stay so I usually never have a one night stand at my place. Ah have to stop comparing… this isn’t a one night stand. She’s different.

Sheamus turned onto his other side and watched me brush my teeth.

She’s wearin’ the clothes she wore last night, her jeans and tight black top.

Looks a lot like a one night stand.

“G’morning, y/n.” He spoke from the bed. It startled me slightly but I don’t think he noticed. I rinsed my mouth before walking back into the bedroom. I wasn’t wearing any makeup and my hair looked kinda messy. I felt comfortable, I didn’t feel the need to not show my face until I looked presentable.

For a second, it looked like she was mine.

She’s not yours, lad. Don’t get all screwed up now.

“Good morning, Sheamus.” You would think this would be super awkward, but it wasn’t. There was a comfortable silence as both of us searched for the right words to say but we both came up short. After I realized that we weren’t gonna say much, I turned to my closet and slipped off my black shirt, revealing the black bra underneath.

“Is someone ready to sleep with me now?” Sheamus teased, sitting up in the bed. I didn’t have anything witty to say so I simply unclasped my bra and let it fall down my arms. His breath hitched as his eyes raked over my figure. I’m sure he was praying for me to turn around, but I didn’t. I grabbed a crew neck sweatshirt from the closet and slipped it over my head.

Sheamus couldn’t help the disappointment that filled him as he watched me slip the large sweatshirt over my figure.

“Do you want some breakfast?” I asked before taking off my jeans and slipping on pink pajama pants. Sheamus looked shocked and I explained myself. “I’m sure you don’t usually stay for breakfast but you’re still here and I’m hungry.”

Sheamus smiled before climbing out of bed. I wanted to act smug but I couldn’t, I was too busy staring at him as he got out of the bed and stood before me. His arms were muscular and defined and I could see his abs through the thin white fabric he was wearing-- butterflies shot to my stomach and I felt heat between my legs. Oh my fucking god, I gotta get out of here. I walked out of the room before he could see my face get red.

Sheamus emerged from my room a couple minutes later, he was holding his shirt and placing things back in the pocket. A travel sized toothbrush and deodorant. “You’re kidding. You bring travel-sized toiletries to your hookups?”

Sheamus looked at me with a weird expression. “Yeah, I also always have an extra condom, some people like mornin’ sex.” He said it so simply and he stared at me like I was the crazy one. “Ah’m like a boy scout, y/n, always prepared.” I laughed at him before handing him a paper plate with an egg sandwich on it.

“I hope you like sunny side up, I forgot to ask.” I told him, while carrying my plate to the small wooden table in my apartment.

“Don’t worry, ah like everythin’.” Even that sounded seductive, he either meant it to be or I was going absolutely mad.

We didn’t talk about anything important as we ate, just random, comfortable, small talk. Somewhere during our conversation, something clicked in Sheamus’ head. “Y/n, I know ya keep brushing this off, but I really do like ya.” He paused and my mind raced. He didn’t let me speak though, the next thing he said seemed to answer my fears. “Ah’m not just sayin’ it cause I want to sleep with ya, ah’m sayin it because ah was more content just sleepin’ next to ya than ah’ve ever been sleepin’ with any girl.” I was silent. My mind went blank. “Ah haven’t felt this way in a long time.”

“Who made you feel it before?” I asked quietly, my eyes looking downward at my coffee. I don’t really know why I asked it, it kinda just came out.

“You. In high school.” My eyes shot open, but he kept talking. “Ah had the biggest crush on ya, why do ya think I asked you to edit my papers every day?”

“Well I thought you needed help writing. You always did make the same mistakes though,” I paused as the pieces fell together in my head. “Oh my god. Sheamus, did you just make stupid mistakes in your essays so I would help you?” He nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me in high school? I always liked you too.” Now it was his turn to open his eyes in shock. “Why do you think I helped you? You were so charming and you seemed so helpless.” There was hope behind his eyes. Snap out of it. “But that doesn’t mean anything now. I don’t want to sleep with you no matter how much you might like me.” The hopeful glow behind his eyes disappeared.

“Ah don’t wanna just sleep with ya. I wanna be with ya.”

That was worse. Does he say this to all the girls he deems difficult assignments? I couldn’t trust him, I wanted to but I couldn’t. My stomach was doing flips as I imagined being with him. Waking up with him every morning and spending long nights in his arms- but that would never happen. He’s lying.

I couldn’t hide the skepticism on my face. He saw it but didn’t say anything more, I don’t know how he expected me to believe him. I wanted to be serious but I couldn’t make anything serious come out, “Well, if you want me that bad you’ll have to prove it.” I was hoping to say something along the lines of ‘Sheamus I can’t trust you and you know that.’

“Ah can prove it, y/n. Ah promise ah can.” I rolled my eyes and he smirked. “Just you watch, y/n. Ah have to go to work now but ah’ll come by the bar tonight.” His voice sounded so smooth and so confident- I was melting in my chair. He grabbed his flannel and walked up to me still sitting in my chair, he bent down and I looked up at him, thinking he was going to say something. But he kissed me instead. Then he smiled and left my apartment.

What the fuck?

What have I done?

I watched the door for a few more minutes, I was stuck in shock. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. After a while, I had managed to get up and go back to my room to grab my phone. “Megan, you’ll never believe what happened.”

“Did you sleep with him? Was it amazing? Tell me everything!” She squealed.

“Well, not really, no. It’s a long story.” I heard her get settled through the phone. “We kissed last night, at the bar, he stayed until closing. We had been talking and flirting all night but I just thought it was an attraction thing. But when he kissed me I instantly knew what everyone was raving about.” I paused, expecting something from Megan. She was silent but I shook it off. “So then we went back to my apartment and ended up in my bedroom but then I told him that I didn’t want to sleep with him. So then do you know what he did?”

“Did he leave?” She shouted. “How could you let him leave?!”

“No, no,” I started, “he didn’t leave. He just kissed me again and told me he wasn’t gonna force me into it. Then we fell asleep… fully clothed. We woke up and I made him breakfast and we talked.”

“Are you sure this was Sheamus? It sounds like he likes you.” Megan teased.

“Well then he told me that he liked me!” Megan gasped. “Yeah, he told me that he’s liked me since high school and that he was gonna prove to me that I can be with him.”

“That… is bonkers. Y/n he likes you! That’s great, but why does he need to prove anything.”

“Because I can’t get over things the way you can, Megan. I’m not as optimistic as you. I can’t get attached to him. I’ll be so hurt when I see that he’s moved on to other girls. And what if I’m working? This won’t last, there's no way he won't get bored of me then I’ll see him at my bar and I’ll have to serve him while girls fall all over him begging for him to spend the night again.”

“You already sound attached, honey.” Megan said, sounding defeated.

“I know. I get it though, he’s hypnotizing.”

“I know he is. But, I wouldn’t worry. I know a lot of girls Sheamus has been with and none of them have ever said anything like that.”

“Really?” Don’t get your hopes up.

“Yeah really, he��s never forced anyone into anything but he doesn’t stay the night with girls who don’t wanna sleep with him and he never stays for breakfast. He always wakes up before you then gets dressed and is gone. Sometimes he gets roped into morning sex but never breakfast.”

I stayed silent but I felt relieved- I know I shouldn’t care. I should feel indifferent, what do I care that he’s never treated any girl like this? Plus, he’s probably lying.

“Well, I gotta run but I’ll swing by the bar tonight.”

“Please. He said he was coming.”

“Of course, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye.”

Silence. I let myself flop onto my bed and I felt myself being drawn to the side of the bed he slept on. It smelled like cologne and whiskey.

I got to the bar at 4:30 to open for 5. My heart pounded, I had no clue what was going to happen. At 4:50, I let Megan in through the back and at five, Sheamus filed in with my regulars.

“You’re here early,” I teased as he approached Megan and I. I knew the only thing I could do was keep it light and normal. Megan can’t leave and, eventually, a girl will come and take him away.

Megan, Sheamus, and I chatted idly as I served my regulars. We talked mainly about high school, considering we all went together, and a little about college. We talked about our jobs and that’s when Sheamus spoke up.

“Oh. That reminds me. Ah’ve got to finish fixin’ sink pipes for a friend, ah got the final piece to the sink in the mail this mornin'.” He stood up and stared right into my eyes before finishing his statement. He looked at me as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. “Ah’ll be right back, y/n. This shouldn’t take longer than 25 minutes.”

I nodded and he ran off, it was only 6:30, younger people wouldn’t start coming in until around 8.

“See, I told you I couldn’t trust him. There he goes running off to ‘fix pipes’.” I mimicked his accent. It hasn’t even been a day since he told me he’d prove that I’m more than just a body to him.

“I think you are still. He just left. We’ll figure out if he’s a liar or not in 20 minutes. If he comes back in time, I think I’d trust him. He seemed kinda worried about leaving you here.” Megan was being too rational. I needed someone to be extra crazy and not support a friend’s budding romance with Mr Lonely.

I wasn’t consciously expecting him to get back, but I was watching the door between serving customers. After 20 minutes, I craned my neck to look at the clock, 5 more minutes. I was still looking at the clock when I heard the door open, I stopped looking at the clock and there he was, walking towards me. I couldn’t help the smile on my face and Megan, upon seeing my expression change, turned too.

“Was someone waitin’ for me?” Sheamus teased once he sat back down in the stool.

I ignored his question. “How’d the sink go?” I asked, sounding more impatient than I wanted to.

“It was fine. Easy fix. I just had to attach a final piece then turn the water back on.” His voice was normal and genuine. There was no hint of guilt and I believed him.

“What about that condom you keep in your pocket? Where’s that?” Megan chimed in. My face went red, if he didn’t already know that I liked him too, he does now.

“Ah didn’t bring it…” he started, only to be cut off by Megan.

“Didn’t bring it? Or already used it?” She accused. I know I said earlier that I wanted her to be crazy. But now that she was, I’m not sure I liked it- I didn’t want her to uncover any truth I wasn’t ready for.

Sheamus looked annoyed. He didn’t focus on her when he spoke, he just kind of stared at her with a glazed over expression. “Ah didn’t bring it.” He paused. “Ah wanted to prove to y/n that I didn’t want to sleep with anyone else.” Sheamus turned to me and noticed my embarrassment and his expression changed, “plus, you know how I operate, lass, would I ever spend only 20 minutes with a woman?” His voice was almost cold, it sounded like he was almost scolding her for making me feel weird.

After the ‘scolding,’ his mannerisms instantly changed and we returned to normal conversation. Megan didn’t seem phased by his tone or gaze from seconds ago. She, like every other girl in Pittsburgh, seemed to fall for his charm and never stay mad at him.

I found it weird that Megan, nor any of my other friends, were jealous. When the rest of my group showed up around 8, they all flocked to Sheamus and Megan told them the “good news.” They were all excited for me. They were supportive and smiley, something I wasn’t expecting.

If what Sheamus wants is true, that’ll mean he’ll retire as the man you can call for a good fucking. Why are they not upset?

Sheamus turned down 3 girls at the bar that night. My friends stayed with us the majority of the night and we had a normal conversation. They no longer treated him like some god who had seen them all naked, but like a friend’s boyfriend. It was weird, but nice. I enjoyed feeling like he was mine.

I know I shouldn’t feel so comfortable right now. The only girl in the bar that he hasn’t seen naked was me. That should scare me, right? He’s seen all of my friends naked, he’s kissed them, he’s slept with them next to him, he’s had sex with them.

Why am I not scared? Y/N!!! He could have anyone in this bar. I should at least be worried!

Our first week “together” went by unlike any week I’ve ever had, it felt like I had been dropped into an alternate universe. Sheamus must have felt like he was going to explode- he hasn’t had sex in a week. We talked everyday, he went to work and so did I, the first night we spent together had been the only one. It should have felt normal, but it didn’t. Normally, I wouldn’t have anything to do with him, but I was beginning to understand why so many people liked having him around. Aside from the fact that I expected him to fuck another girl at any moment, he was enjoyable to be around.

It was a Wednesday, two weeks into our companionship, I had just closed the bar and Sheamus was with me. On usual weekdays, Sheamus didn’t stay too late, he worked early in the mornings and I never wanted to keep him up later than he had to be. He stayed with me tonight only because his first job of the next morning was at 11.

Sheamus was standing behind me as I was locking the door and he suddenly spoke, “Ah want ya to come back to my place tonight.” He blurted. I noticed that he had been slightly on the quieter side tonight and I knew he was mulling over something, I guess that was it.

I had never seen his apartment, rumor has it that no one has. He doesn’t bring girls back to his place… ever. I wondered why but I didn’t ask him. “Oh wow, really?” I said both excited and sarcastic.

Sheamus smirked and nodded, “C’mon, love,” he started. My heart stopped beating at the nickname. It’s not a big deal. I had to remind myself that him calling me “love” was not actually him saying he loved me. I knew the Irishman liked to tease, but something inside of me didn’t want to think of it as just a tease or a nickname. “Ya haven’t seen my flat yet.”

I followed Sheamus to his truck, he had driven me to work today, and I climbed in. The drive was filled with a comfortable silence, I caught him singing softly to the songs on the radio but I didn’t mention it. I found it cute and I knew if I called him out, he’d stop.

We arrived at his building, it was only a short drive further than mine but a lot nicer. I followed him out of the car and through the lobby. Sheamus paused to speak to the man behind the security desk. “Hey, Tony, how are ya fella?” I wasn’t surprised, Sheamus was a local personality, everyone seemed to know, and love, him.

“I’m good my man, I’m good. How are you?” His New York-Italian accent was thick. “And who is this lovely lady?” He asked, looking past Sheamus at me. “Ya know I’ve never seen this guy bring a girl here, it must be serious, huh?” I blushed and Sheamus spoke up before I could.

“This is y/n. She bartends over at Jack, ya should stop by it's a nice bar. She’s turnin’ me into an honest man.” Sheamus joked, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me close. I smiled up at Sheamus knowing that, despite his joking tone, he meant it.

“Well I’m happy for you two, enjoy your night.” He said happily.

“You too, Tony.” Sheamus spoke before turning toward the elevator with me still wrapped in his arms.

I looked back and waved at the man behind the desk, “It was nice meeting you.” It was the first thing I said since climbing into his truck.

“You too, y/n.”

I don’t know what I was expecting to see in Sheamus’ apartment. I kinda was picturing something like mine, small, on the cheaper side but still nice and plainly decorated. That's not what I saw. Sheamus’ apartment was much bigger than mine. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a large kitchen and living room. Nice big windows that would let in wonderful natural lighting, a beautiful black leather couch, a large TV, and tasteful decor. He looked back and noted my visible confusion. “What,” he started. “You were expectin’ more of a bachelor pad, weren’t ya love?”

I nodded. “This is really nice, why do you never bring girls back here?” I didn't want to know the answer to that question originally. I had thought it was because he lived minimally, I could see now that he didn’t.

“Well ah didn’t want any of them in my house, fer some reason. Ah guess ah wanted to be able to leave. Ah don’t like them gettin’ too attached.” His reasoning was simple. “But ah want you here. Ah want you to get attached, ah’m already attached to ya I feel like it’s only fair.”

I smiled and let him lead me into his bedroom. More large windows and elegant black furniture that contrasted with the clean white walls. The only thing that hung on the wall was a Celtic Cross by his bed. He had photos and momentos, but they were in frames on his dresser and night tables. I didn’t stop myself from looking around. I picked up a picture of a small boy with pale skin and red hair smiling brightly in the arms of a jolly-looking woman with matching pale skin and mousy brown hair. “Is this you and your mom?” I asked, turning back to him with the photo in my hand.

Sheamus grinned and reached up to grab the back of his neck with his hand, I watched as his muscles flexed and the black fabric of his t-shirt rode up, showing shimmering white skin. “Yeah, that’s my ma’.” He moved to stand beside me and pointed to himself.

“You were adorable.” I said, my eyes locked on the small smiling boy in the photograph.

“Ah’m not adorable now?” He asked, a dramatic pained look on his face. I laughed at him and looked back at the small boy in the photo.

“Not as cute as you were here. When was this.” Sheamus had never talked about his life before moving. If he didn’t look or speak like a leprechaun, I wouldn’t even have known he was from Ireland.

He hesitated before leaning his chin on the top of my head, “Ah was four. She had just told me that she was takin’ me to a football game for my fifth birthday. My dad took the picture, he couldn’t come to the game, that or he didn’ want to.” Sheamus took the picture from my hands and placed back down on his dresser. “But enough of that, love.” Sheamus always seemed to know what I was thinking, he knew I wanted to ask more questions but he didn’t want to answer more questions about his father.

Sheamus turned back to me and leaned down to kiss me. His calloused hands held my face and I instantly forgot about what I wanted to ask him. He lifted me up and placed me gently on his bed before crawling over me. We remained clothed until my hands pulled on the hem of his shirt. My shirt came off after his but that was the only thing that came off. Sheamus waited until I made any moves and I didn’t want to tease him. He never made me feel bad about wanting to wait but I couldn’t help feeling a little conflicted about it. My fingernails raked over his pale skin, leaving red trails in their wake. Sheamus pulled away from my lips but didn’t go far. He moved to kiss my chin, his moustache tickled my lips. His soft lips moved down my neck to my collarbones and I couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped my lips. Sheamus pulled back briefly, smirking at the fact that he could unravel me with just his lips. My eyes shot from Sheamus’ face to his neck, exposed and strong, pale and begging to be bitten. I wrapped my arms around his neck and lifted my shoulders off the bed to attach my lips to his skin. Sheamus moaned as my lips ghosted along his ear and down towards his collarbone. Sheamus moved to his knees and wrapped one of his arms around my back to keep me pressed tightly against his firm body.

“Ah want ya, bad.” He moaned, his voice coming out uncontrollably. I pulled back from his neck and glared into his blue eyes. I didn’t have to speak, he knew what I was thinking. “Ah… uh. Ah mean ah want to… date ya bad.”

I smiled at him as he continued to hold me tightly against him. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s what you meant.” I moved my arms from the back of his neck to cup his cheeks. I pressed my lips against his and smiled against them. Sheamus laid me back down and pulled away from the kiss.

“Ah didn’t mean to make ya uncomfortable.” His voice was soft and he looked at me sweetly. His fingers brushed across my face gently and pushed a lock of hair behind my ear.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Sheamus,” I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled myself up to his ear. “We’ll start dating after the first time you fuck me.” I whispered before letting myself drop onto the bed below him. I smirked as I stared up at his shocked face. His blue eyes were wide and his lips were slightly parted. “But that won’t happen yet, now let's go to bed.”

Sheamus groaned dramatically and flopped onto the bed beside me. He rolled out of bed only to take off his jeans. He tossed me a pair of sweatpants and asked if I wanted a shirt, I took off my own jeans and agreed to the shirt. The shirt was green and soft, it had an Irish flag across the chest. I turned away from him and slipped my bra off before pulling the shirt over my head. It was long and reached above my mid-thigh. I didn’t put on the pants, the shirt was long enough. Sheamus smirked as he watched me crawl back into bed. Ah could get used to this. He pulled the white sheets and puffy black comforter over us before he wrapped his arm around my waist. His bed was soft and warm, my clothed back was pressed against his bare torso and my bare legs were tangled in his.

I could get used to this.

Part 3

#sheamus #sheamus fanfiction #sheamus imagine #sheamus smut #sheamus x reader #wwe #mr lonely

39 notes · View notes

imaginaryelle · 3 years

Text

Fic: Near Misses and Almost Kisses

AKA Five (plus one) Times Wangxian Could Have Kissed and Totally Fucking Did: A Retelling of CQL Through Missing Scene Kisses

Many thanks to @theflowergirl for initially prompting this fic ages and ages ago (pre-covid. wow.) and also to @morphia-writes for cheerleading and beta work while I struggled to get back into writing this past month. <3!

(this is ~6k and also available as a chaptered fic on AO3. Link coming soon)

[One: Gusu]

Lan Wangji was not looking for company on this journey, and he especially wasn’t looking for the loud, insistent and impossible-to-ignore company of Wei Ying of Yunmeng-Jiang. There have been enough rules broken, enough disruptions to the orderly patterns of his days and thoughts. Finding the other Yin Iron shards is a time-sensitive task with no room for flighty delays. He had, in fact, been looking forward to having some time to clear his head. Time to meditate, and reflect, and maybe dull down the memory of Wei Ying’s earnest, sincere promise, burning brighter in his mind than their Qixi lantern ever glowed against the sky. Time to wrap and re-wrap his sleeves, and maybe forget the winding, binding pull of his forehead ribbon around his wrist and the brush of Wei Ying’s knuckles against the back of his hand.

But instead Wei Ying is here. Talking. Loudly. Incessantly. Chattering about Yunmeng, and all the ways to eat lotus, and the best techniques to use when fighting water ghouls or a possessed alligator. Standing close enough that their elbows keep brushing. Jostling his shoulder and grinning at him like they’re sharing a joke and calling him Lan Zhan, like no one else in the world.

It should be annoying. Enraging that someone would so simply and carelessly step over so many boundaries.

Sometimes it is.

Sometimes it’s … not.

Lan Wangji does not tell him to leave. Not at the pier, not on the boat through the long, foggy afternoon. Not in the dwindling twilight as they make camp: clear the ground, set a ward, nurse a small cookfire. Not as they eat a simple meal of sesame qi zi rolls and tea and the loquats Wei Ying brought with him.

And after, still Wei Ying stays close, never more than three steps away, and sits even closer. Close enough that their knees just don’t quite touch. But instead of introducing some game, or talking more, he sighs, and closes his eyes, and … meditates.

One day, perhaps, he will run out of ways to surprise Lan Wangji. For now, they pass a quiet, peaceful stretch of time without any more pressing interruptions than the call of a hawk overhead and the rustle of small creatures moving through the underbrush.

Even after that, when Wei Ying starts moving again—rustling cloth and soft footsteps—he doesn’t speak. It’s unexpectedly thoughtful, as if he’s doing his best not to disturb Lan Wangji’s own meditations. Then come the familiar sounds and smells of ink grinding against stone, and the soft crinkle of paper. After a while Wei Ying starts humming, low and under his breath.

Lan Wangji opens his eyes to find Wei Ying backlit by the smoldering fire, a brush in his hand and his focus entirely on the strip of paper before him. To his left is a line of paper strips, fresh ink shining on each one. Talismans, Lan Wangji realizes. Each imbued with a touch of power. It’s not an invocation he’s seen before. He tries to get a better look, and Wei Ying looks up at him.

“Want to see?” he asks, grinning. Lan Wangji draws back, but Wei Ying picks up the driest of the talismans and holds it out to him for examination.

Scattered bursts of power, shaped and directed outward from the caster. A touch of fire. Enough intent and energy to damage a ward, distract a spirit, or leave minor burns on an enemy. He’s trying to make out the shape itself when Wei Ying draws the paper back and flicks it into the air.

Bright, fiery butterflies ascend into the space above their heads, trailing orange sparks until they wink out like distant stars.

“You can have one, if you like.” Lan Wangji slowly returns his gaze to his companion. “I know your sword work is very good,” Wei Ying is saying, “but everyone can use a bit of surprise on their side, right?”

Lan Wangji’s fingers itch. He’s never seen anyone use talismans the way Wei Ying does, and he does want to study this one further. And yet. “There’s no need,” he says.

“Even so.” Wei Ying smiles. He sorts through his papers, picking out two. “These are for you.” He holds them out for a moment, then sighs when Lan Wangji makes no move to take them. “Lan Zhan,” he says, “Are you one of those cultivators who thinks talismans are just toys for those with low spiritual power? Little party tricks for those not able to work a seal directly?”

Denial sticks in his throat. He has heard others voice such thoughts, and “toys” certainly describes how Wei Ying uses them, but it’s not a fair judgment to speak aloud.

“Why butterflies?” he asks instead.

“I like butterflies.” Wei Ying’s expression twists, perhaps wistful. “We have lots of them in Yunmeng.” This does not seem to require a response, but Lan Wangji must be missing something, because Wei Ying sighs and pulls the talismans back. “Do you not trust my gifts anymore? How about a trade then? I give you some talismans, and you give me something you think is a fair trade. Better?”

He looks—annoyed, but somehow Lan Wangji still feels like he’s being teased in some way; there’s some joke he’s not getting as Wei Ying sits just a handspan away, limned in firelight and offering him butterflies with an expectant expression and Lan Wangji wants—

It’s not a good kiss, Lan Wangji is certain, and it’s not really anything like the impulsive thoughts that have littered his waking hours over the last few days, but the touch of Wei Ying’s lips still steals the breath from his lungs and narrows his focus in a way meditation and sword forms never have. Wei Ying is softness and warmth and, for a moment, the orbital center of the Heavens, as far as Lan Wangji is concerned.

He leans back, his heart beating as fast as dragonfly wings. Wei Ying stares at him with wide, dark eyes.

“That was …” his hand rises, and he touches his fingertips to his lips. “That was my first kiss.”

Lan Wangji’s pulse thrums faster at that, if that’s possible. He’d been certain, certain that someone as brash and forward as Wei Ying would have been kissed before now.

“Mine also,” he admits, and the surprise in Wei Ying’s eyes would be comical if Lan Wangji had not so obviously spent his entire life distanced from his peers, if he had not so clearly displayed his disinterest in most companionship. He thinks Wei Ying must be making fun of him again, that perhaps he lied to elicit this confession and—

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying protests, “My talismans aren’t worth your first kiss!”

Lan Wangji had forgotten about the talismans. They are not currently carrying any prominence in his thoughts.

“It was Wei Ying’s first kiss also,” he returns, daring him to deny it and reveal the ruse.

But he doesn’t. He just sort of stares for long enough that Lan Wangji looks away, shame rising in his throat. He had hoped—it doesn’t matter what he hoped. The kiss was obviously a misstep, and now he has achieved the dual consequences of pushing Wei Ying away while revealing his own weakness. Perhaps he should leave in the morning, before Wei Ying wakes. Perhaps by the time they see each other again this will be forgotten, or at least—at least—

“A second kiss,” Wei Ying says, sudden and much louder than necessary. Lan Wangji looks back at him and waits, hardening himself against further disappointments.

“Two first kisses is an even trade, right?” Wei Ying says. He’s wearing the same sort of eager, coaxing expression he’d had in the library, trying to explain once again how he couldn’t possibly be at fault for climbing over Cloud Recesses’ walls after curfew and drinking alcohol in front of the Wall of Discipline. “Your first kiss for my first kiss. But a second kiss could be… hm.” he frowns. “No this is...” He turns away, rummaging through his papers for a moment and then holds them out triumphantly—six of them. “Six talismans,” Wei Ying says, grinning, “for your second kiss?”

Lan Wangji looks from the talismans to his face, to his lips. Even with shame burning in his center it had felt—it had been—He should have more self-restraint than this. He has more self-restraint than this, with everyone, it seems, except Wei Ying.

He nods, hardly daring to breathe, and Wei Ying scoots closer on his knees. This time, Lan Wangji stays where he is and Wei Ying touches his face with careful fingertips, his expression hardly visible with his body blocking most of the firelight, and then he bends slightly and their lips touch. It is a slow, gentle kiss, more mixing of breath than lips, and the longer it goes on the more Lan Wangji’s fear that this will turn into a new opportunity at provocation melts away. He lifts his own hand to Wei Ying’s jaw and opens his mouth, and lets himself concentrate on only this: warm breath, and softly brushing lips, and the rush of Wei Ying’s heartbeat at his fingertips.

[Two: Qinghe]

By the time they make it to Qinghe, Lan Wangji has retreated so far into stoic silence that Wei Wuxian is a little surprised he’s not leaving a trail of frost wherever he goes. He looks cold enough for it. Frosty and aloof and unapproachable as a distant mountain, with glares so icy they could burn. Nothing like as soft and warm and close as he’d been when it was just the two of them traveling together, before Nie Huaisang joined them in Tanzhou, before Jiang Cheng found them on Dafan Mountain, before they met Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen and volunteered to haul Xue Yang all the way to the Unclean Realm for judgement. He’s barely spoken to anyone other than Nie Mingjue, the last few days. Barely looked at Wei Wuxian at all since they left the Chang Clan’s former residence.

There had been a moment, watching Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen walk away together, when Wei Wuxian’s old memories of his mother had slipped from his thoughts to make way for new memories—the brush of Lan Wangji’s fingers against his cheek, the touch of their lips meeting in the night and the thud of his own pulse threatening to overwhelm him.

He doesn’t know for sure that Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen have that, but sometimes he remembers those two figures walking together, one in black and one in white, and want is so heavy in his lungs it turns bitter in his mouth.

But that’s when the silence started, he thinks. Lan Wangji hadn’t said a single word to him all that long afternoon.

The point is, he’s pretty much resigned himself to never getting to kiss Lan Wangji again, because Lan Wangji has clearly remembered that he dislikes Wei Wuxian and also everyone else Wei Wuxian associates with and the concept of fun, in general. But Wei Wuxian is not giving up. He said they were going to be friends and so they’re going to be friends; Lan Wangji is too interesting a person to not be friends with, at a minimum. He’ll just have to work harder at it, and bide his time, and he’s sure Lan Wangji will come around. They could be the best of friends, and then maybe Wei Wuxian could bring it up—hey, remember that time you kissed me?—and if it goes poorly he can laugh it off. What a funny thing, why don’t more people know that you’re funny, Lan Zhan?

It’s a plan, anyway. A plan that gets entirely shattered to pieces when Lan Wangji steps out of his guest quarters, and looks at Wei Wuxian lying on the roof and babbling some nonsense about relative roof tile comfort, and jumps up to join him.

For a single breathless moment Wei Wuxian thinks Lan Wangji might draw his sword. That he’s pushed too far, this is it, all potential positive feelings towards himself have been erased in Lan Wangji’s mind, but no. No, instead Lan Wangji just sits next to him, inside the stretched curve of Wei Wuxian’s frame. Close enough to touch.

Everyone else is asleep. Wei Wuxian knows it, because it’s the entire reason he’s outside, drinking alone, instead of inside with jovial company and more wine.

Well. Not so alone, now.

Lan Wangji glows in the starlight, pale and luminous as anything gracing the heavens.

You look like the moon, Wei Wuxian wants to say, come drink with me, follow me, dance with me, but he doesn’t say that. That would be—too much, he thinks.

“Wei Ying,” says Lan Wangji.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says back. The ice is melting from Lan Wangji’s posture, slipping away until the space between them feels warm. Charged like lightning.

“I will return to Gusu,” Lan Wangji says, and Wei Wuxian nods, his hand gripped tight around his bottle of wine.

“To help your brother,” he confirms. He raises the bottle and drinks, and wonders if he’s imagining the way Lan Wangji’s gaze follows the motion to linger on his mouth. He swallows. “I suppose we all have to go home eventually.”

“Mn.”

Lan Wangji is still watching him. He’s tempted to sit up. To reach out and tug on those pale robes and draw Lan Wangji even closer.

He sets the wine aside. Meets Lan Wangji’s gaze.

“Do you want—” he can’t finish the question. Lan Wangji moves fluidly, even now, far from any battle they might fight. He is so close now that Wei Wuxian can see nothing else but his eyes, his face, his mouth. His fingers curl around Wei Wuxian’s wrist, and Wei Wuxian leans into him, into the kiss that he’d thought he wouldn’t be getting.

This one is different. Deeper. Longer. Lan Wangji’s grip on his wrist is tight, his fingers on Wei Wuxian’s jaw firm and steady. Something golden and liquid is happening to Wei Wuxian’s spine as Lan Wangji’s tongue slips past his lips and it doesn’t have anything to do with the wine. He can’t stop the sound he makes, too genuine to be laughed away.

Lan Wangji draws back, draws his tongue back and his lips back and his hands back, and Wei Wuxian only barely catches himself from slipping flat onto the roof tiles.

“Lan Zhan …” Words slip away from him. All he wants is more touch. His body feels molten, edges disappearing from his awareness.

Lan Wangji’s lips are pink. He’s flushing to his ears. His hands are in his lap, curled into tight fists.

There’s something Wei Wuxian’s forgetting. Oh.

“I don’t have anything to give you this time,” he says. Lan Wangji won’t want whatever remains of his wine and this—for this kiss—he doesn’t know what he could possibly give in exchange.

Lan Wangji blinks, a hint of confusion in his face. Then it clears.

“Promise you will not be reckless,” he says, and Wei Wuxian huffs an incredulous laugh.

“I’m not reckless,” he protests, sitting up properly as if that will better support his point. “Lan Zhan!”

Lan Wangji simply looks at him. He’s looking less kissed with every second, which is a true shame.

“Fine,” Wei Wuxian allows. “I promise to not be reckless. But.” He leans across the small distance between them and presses another kiss to Lan Wangji’s lips. It’s longer than he means it to be, and when he pulls back his voice sounds strained and breathless in his own ears.

“You promise me too,” he says, half-whispered. “You don’t be reckless either.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji agrees, and there’s an actual smile drawn at the corners of his eyes. “I promise.”

[Three: Dusk Creek Mountain]

Lan Wangji has faced endurance trials before. Lan cultivation training is full to brimming with them, and where before he knew that such trials would bring him strength, and patience, and clarity in adverse circumstances, he is now deeply, terribly grateful for them.

If he must endure the uncertainty that clouds his brother’s fate, the danger that still clings to his uncle and his entire clan and sect, the open derision of the Wens and the pall of pain and death that haunts every step he takes on a broken leg—at least he has trained to do so, every day of his life. At least he has years of practice to keep him standing straight and tall and unbending, here in this place that smells of sulphur and smoke and stinks of power so tainted and warped that his skin crawls with it.

He has little such practice in enduring Wei Ying’s probing inquiries. Enduring his careful glances and fidgeting hands and the worry in his voice as he says Lan Wangji’s name, over and over, half-whispered.

He knows something must show in his face when they take his sword, from the change in that voice. The next morning, when Wei Ying recites the Lan rules instead of the Wen proverbs, he dearly wishes he could slip back in time, weeks ago, and kiss Wei Ying again, and again, as if, if he never left that rooftop in Qinghe, none of this would have happened.

He can’t speak. No matter what Wei Ying asks, he can’t speak. If he opens his mouth everything will spill out at once. Everything—the Yin iron, and his uncle and brother and sect and the fires that consumed hundreds of years of Lan history as he was dragged from his home—he won’t be able to stop it. There might even be tears involved. He’s stretched too thin, likely to break like porcelain with sharp edges to cut the unwary.

Their closeness is noticed. He can’t stop Wen Chao throwing Wei Ying in a dungeon that afternoon. The fears that haunt him until the next morning are not much soothed by the blood on Wei Ying’s robes when he returns, no matter how he smiles and chatters.

It can’t go on. He won’t bear it. Lan Wangji’s rebellions are small, and thus insignificant to Wen Chao, but they are still victories in self-restraint. He does not speak, and so no one will hear the fear and anger in his voice. He does not read the Wen Precepts, and so no one can ever say that he would replace the Lan’s, no matter what other claims the Wen make. He walks unaided, and so there will be no favors left unpaid. Even Wei Ying’s offer of help he pushes away. Better to cut such things off now, than to draw disaster down on him again.

Wei Ying walks by his side regardless. Brings him water. Stays in the terrible cave Wen Chao sealed them in, when escape is well within his reach.

Touches his forehead ribbon, entirely ignorant of its meaning. Tends his wounds.

He can’t keep his silence any longer. Wei Ying is injured, and in pain, and never thinks of himself first. He needs taking care of, too. They are alone. If he breaks now only Wei Ying will see, and Wei Ying will never tell.

“You promised to not be reckless,” Lan Wangji says when the medicine is used up.

“I’m not reckless,” Wei Ying insists, shaking out his overrobe near their tiny fire so it will dry faster. “Lan Zhan,” he pouts, then winces as the brand on his chest pains him again. “When was I reckless?”

“Drawing attention,” Lan Wangji tells him. “Reciting the Lan Precepts. Insulting Wen Chao.” He gestures at Wei Ying’s wound. “Taking an attack meant for another without deflection.”

“That’s not recklessness, that’s righteousness,” Wei Ying asserts. He grins. “I would have thought that Lan Clan would know the difference. And besides, Lan Zhan, you promised me, too, and I saw you step in front of Mianmian. If I was reckless so were you.”

Lan Wangji looks away.

“She’s pretty,” Wei Ying says. There’s a questioning edge to the words that sends cold plummeting through Lan Wangji’s gut. Wei Ying just looks at him, all earnestness in his eyes. “Don’t you think she’s pretty, Lan Zhan?”

He hadn’t noticed, really. She was protective of her sect’s heir, and decently eloquent. Perhaps too free with gossip, as it had been her question that eventually sparked Wei Ying and Jin Zixuan’s fight at Cloud Recesses, months and months ago now.

“She did not deserve to be killed for bait,” he says.

“Or branded either,” Wei Ying is saying. “It’d be a shame, a pretty girl like that with a scar on her face for the rest of her life.”

Lan Wangji stares at him. At the smile he is somehow still wearing. The cold reaches into Lan Wangji’s lungs. His ribs. The fire brings him no warmth.

“It is not better for you to carry the scar instead,” he points out.

“But it’s not on my face,” Wei Ying counters. “Besides, it’s different for men. A man should get a few scars in his life, anyway.”

It is possibly the stupidest thing Lan Wangji has ever heard him say. If this is among the teachings of the Yunmeng-Jiang Sect, he thinks it might go some way towards explaining Jiang Wanyin. But Wei Ying is still talking.

“Even if I do have to carry it forever, it marks that I once protected a girl who will never forget me her whole life! That’s sort of beautiful, don’t you think?”

Lan Wangji has no idea what’s supposed to be beautiful about it. He feels a bit like the ground has slipped out from underneath his feet, the foundation he built himself on crumbling on all sides and now a handhold he hadn’t realized he was gripping so tightly is also turning to sand beneath his fingers.

“So you know she’ll never forget you,” he says, the words like acid on his tongue, and Wei Ying startles.

“Why are you mad?” he asks, as if he cannot even guess. Lan Wangji stares at the fire and wishes he were anywhere else. Wishes he had never kissed Wei Ying even once. Even that first time.

“If you don’t mean it,” he says, forcing the words over his teeth as ice rises in his throat, “you shouldn’t flirt with anyone.”

“I—what—”

Wei Ying is silent for a long time. When Lan Wangji looks at him he’s frowning.

“Saving someone isn’t flirting,” he says finally. “And if it’s flirting with you you’re worried about you can just say so. I’ll stop if you say so.”

“Don’t,” Lan Wangji blurts, almost before the sentence is done. And Wei Ying … smiles. A real smile, that reaches his eyes and makes his whole face scrunch up a bit. A smile Lan Wangji hasn’t seen in weeks, that warms him like sunlight.

“Okay,” Wei Ying agrees. “I won’t then.” And then, because he is utterly shameless, he says, “I think my robe is dry now. Are you cold? You look cold, I could cover you with it,” and he leans close to do so without waiting for an answer.

Lan Wangji lets him. He’s too tired to move away, and he doesn’t really want to. He grabs Wei Ying’s wrist, caught between them, and tugs him closer.

“Wei Ying should be warm also,” he says to the questioning look that earns him, and Wei Ying smiles again and sighs. His body is a line of heat against Lan Wangji’s side.

“Alright Lan Zhan,” he says, and his voice is low and soft and close, intimate as a secret.

If he speaks again, Lan Wangji doesn’t hear it. Instead he wakes hours later to find that Wei Ying has returned his forehead ribbon to its rightful place, and explored the wretched pond in the bottom of this cave, and is once again drying himself out.

They are trapped. It will likely be days before they can be rescued. They could die of starvation first, or be killed when the Wens return.

Or they could die fighting.

For luck, Wei Ying says, his voice bright and dancing like butterflies through the telepathy spell. He cups his hand around the back of Lan Wangji’s neck and kisses him, a quick brush of heat, and then he steps away, towards the pond, and there are far more immediate things to think about.

The battle is one of the fiercest of Lan Wangji’s life, but it is clear, afterwards, that Wei Ying sacrificed more than Lan Wangji guessed he would to see the Xuanwu slain. He is clearly unwell, so unwell as to be bad at hiding it, cold and clammy as fever rises through his blood. His breath comes in gasps, his speech slowed and confused.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, through teeth stained with blood, “I didn’t really think I would survive this.”

“You must,” Lan Wangji tells him. He begins passing spiritual energy into Wei Ying’s wrist, everything he can spare. Some he probably can’t. But anything Wei Ying needs, he will give. Spiritual energy. Physical warmth.

A song, though this is far from his idle daydreams of its debut.

They cannot last long like this. Wei Ying slips into dreams from which he can’t be woken, and Lan Wangji draws him close and cradles him carefully as exhaustion settles into his own bones and sinew.

He kisses Wei Ying’s forehead, salt sweat stinging at his dry, cracked lips.

“You must live,” he rasps, his voice all but gone now. “Promise me you’ll live, Wei Ying.”

[Four: Qishan]

Many things are different, after Wen Chao throws Wei Wuxian into the Mass Graves. Most things. The whole course of his life, taking a turn onto a new path. And really, Wei Wuxian is fine with that. He is. He still has Shijie and Jiang Cheng and he’s still friends with Nie Huaisang, even if he has to keep them all a bit more distant than before and even if they can tell something’s wrong, and he has food and a bed with an actual mattress, and even power. Power no one else can claim.

That power makes up for a lot of things, and it and Jiang Cheng’s barely-there smile and continued efforts at rebuilding the Yunmeng-Jiang Sect leave him with no regrets whatsoever, though he was pretty sure he’d had no regrets before, anyway.

Well. Only one regret.

Lan Wangji is avoiding him.

Okay, no, that’s not true. Not anymore, anyway. The weeks-stretching-to-months of the Sunshot Campaign were a particular kind of torture that Wei Wuxian knows he can only blame himself for, but now … now, Lan Wangji wants to help him, and is spending a great deal of time at his guqin. On the other side of the room. Telling Wei Wuxian to “be quiet” and “concentrate” as if that was going to help anything.

His face when he’d come in—Wei Wuxian couldn’t look at him, could hardly stand to sit on the bed with his hands under his thighs and mouth clamped shut in the face of that—that—whatever emotion it was that made Lan Wangji’s eyes so soft, made his lips part and the tension in his shoulders drop so suddenly. And then Shijie had left them alone and—

Well. For a moment there Wei Wuxian expected he was going to be kissed. Lan Wangji had obviously been worried, and visiting often, and ….

But that didn’t happen. No kisses for Wei Wuxian, apparently. Not since the Xuanwu cave, and that barely counted. No kisses since he still had a golden core.

Just guqin music. And meditation.

He tries. He does. He can still benefit from meditation and he knows it, and Lan Wangj’s skill at the guqin is never unpleasant to listen to and so he tries.

For about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea. That picture of Lan Wangji’s face keeps painting itself on the back of his eyelids. He can’t sit still any longer. He stands.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, “I’m fine.”

Lan Wangji is not convinced. Every movement as he approaches shows it. He is stern and straight-backed and righteous.

“Three more days are needed,” he insists.

“Three days!” Wei Wuxian won’t survive three days of sitting on opposite sides of a room, meditating to music. He won’t. Although …

“Lan Zhan,” he pouts. Entirely for effect, despite the way it makes Lan Wangji go even stiffer and more righteous instead of softening in indulgence the way Shijie does. “Three days is so long. Aren’t you even going to offer me a kiss, asking for so much time?”

Lan Wangji’s entire demeanor changes. The soft eyes and parted lips are back, and his fingers curl in his sleeves. Wei Wuxian risks a step closer.

“One kiss?” he asks. Another step.

“A kiss per day? A kiss per hour?” He grins, close enough now to reach out and touch. Or be touched.

“Lan Zhan,” he whispers, “Would you kiss me after every song you play? Or every minute? Every—”

Lan Wangji’s hands are on his face, his thumbs pressed against Wei Wuxian’s cheekbones and his fingers cupping Wei Wuxian’s ears. His mouth is hot, his tongue is hot, and in Wei Wuxian’s mouth, and it is taking a lot of effort for Wei Wuxian to stay on his feet. He thinks his knees might have melted, somehow. It would hardly be the strangest thing that’s ever happened to him and he doesn’t really care. Lan Wangji’s lips and tongue and breath are more than enough to fill the moment in its entirety.

When Lan Wangji pulls back, Wei Wuxian is holding onto his wrists. Nearly hanging from them.

“Kiss me again,” he whispers. “Again, Lan Zhan.”

For a moment, Lan Wangji’s eyes are liquid with want and his mouth is soft and pink and so very close. And then he steps back, and lets go of Wei Wuxian’s face, and shakes Wei Wuxian’s grip from his sleeves.

“Meditation first,” he insists.

[Five: Yiling]

Every part of this meeting has been unsettling. Lan Wangji had passed through Yiling for several reasons—rumors of nearby disturbances, it is the largest town near to where his most recent night hunt ended, and the road to Gusu goes through it—but all of these lead to Wei Ying. Even crying children in the street lead to Wei Ying.

The golden swell of hope that was growing under his ribs during their shared meal has long since withdrawn, pulled back and away like the tide by the stark reality of Wei Ying’s circumstances. There will be no convincing him to leave these people now. He has done the impossible, in Wen Qionglin’s resurrection, and he is obviously fond of both Wen Qing and Wen Yuan, but the true issue is that any goals he has for this settlement, its people, or his own life’s path are being smothered by the very real absence of necessary protections, money, food, and medicine.

No tea for guests. No hope that he will see his sister’s wedding. Resentment on all sides, from the restless dead within the mountain and the determined gossips without.

Lan Wangji finds he cannot look at Wen Qionglin for any reasonable length of time. His presence is a prickly burr against the background fog of corruption the Mass Graves generate, at odds with his deferential bows and careful presentation of what poor hospitality this place can offer.

Lan Wangji does not drink the water. He thinks his stomach would not tolerate it, and he shies away from the thought. Water from the hands of a corpse, sourced, undoubtedly, from this land that has been poisoned with resentment for generations. No one should live here. It is only one of many things that should not happen, but is happening anyway.

Wen Qionglin and his sister do not linger long. There is little to say, and even basic formalities cannot be observed without the right supplies. They greet him, formally, with careful bows, and welcome him, and melt back and away, leaving him once again alone with Wei Ying in a cave that smells only slightly better than the one they killed the Xuanwu in.

He will ask once more. He must.

“Wei Ying—”

Further speech is impeded by Wei Ying’s lips on his, the kiss soft and beseeching. Need in the rigid press of Wei Ying’s fingers on Lan Wangji’s shoulders.

“Do me a favor, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying murmurs against his mouth, pressing more kisses to his skin like wet ink to paper, and Lan Wangji wants nothing more than to soak him in, draw him up and keep him.

Wei Ying presses their faces together, forehead to forehead, nose to nose.

“Don’t ask again,” he murmurs, and kisses the corner of Lan Wangji’s mouth, and steps away.

For a single, wild moment, Lan Wangji considers staying here. Staying with Wei Ying, and these fugitives he has thrown himself in with, and offering any aid he can: the small handful of coins he still carries, the strength of his arms and back, whatever healing his spiritual energy and music can offer.

The impulse slips away quickly. Wei Ying is clearly shepherding him away from the cave, away from the settlement. Beyond the gates. He keeps his movements perfectly contained. Distanced. Separate. Always a respectable space kept between them as they walk, even as he asks—can anyone give me a nice, favorable choice?—the strain of the question clear in his voice.

Even as he says thank you, for a visit Lan Wangji is almost certain has only brought him pain.

It’s Wen Yuan who interrupts them before Lan Wangji can sort out the words he wants. Wen Yuan who asks him to stay.

Wei Ying, who takes the child in his arms and tells him Lan Wangji must leave.

Lan Wangji looks at Wen Yuan’s tiny hand, held securely in Wei Ying’s careful grip. He watches Wei Ying’s face. There is resignation there, but determination, too.

There is nothing left to say.

Another set of hands is also another mouth to feed. He can be of more use to Wei Ying as he is now: separated by distance, but not intent. He is the son of a great sect, the brother of a sect leader, and he has reputation of his own to call on. Somehow, he will find a way to bring Wei Ying back into the world.

Someday, he’ll be back with better news.

[+1: The Jingshi]

Sixteen years.

Wei Wuxian would be tempted to write that number off as an elaborate joke if it weren’t for Jin Ling, so obviously grown up and full of pride. Cloud Recesses doesn’t show the passage of time, either from the time he’s been dead or the damage it suffered before that. He could almost believe, here in this room, that no time has passed at all. Here he is in Cloud Recesses, which looks and sounds and smells just the same as it always has in his memories of that summer before the war. Here he is, convalescing in bed, and there is Lan Wangji on the other side of the room at his guqin, just as they were after it.

There are still differences. He has never seen Lan Wangji this quietly at home in a place. So settled. So comfortable. His hair half-down should make him look younger, but Wei Wuxian can see his jaw is sharper now, his shoulders somehow broader, like he’s grown to fit his bones in a way that’s not quite physical. There are new lines in his face, faint as they are. Around his eyes, mostly. The touch of a life, extended.

His skill at the guqin has improved. Or perhaps it’s just that Wei Wuxian himself is a more appreciative audience now, here on the other side of confusion and tragedy and death. He’d like to think he’s learned something from the experience, even if he doesn’t really remember a lot of it.

He watches Lan Wangji’s fingers, over the strings. Watches his face, clear as a still pond.

“Lan Zhan,” he says. He swallows past the tightness in his throat. “Do you remember the last time you played for me?”

The hands still.

“Yes.” There is still something of that soft-eyed look in his eyes, even with the year, and the new lines. Something familiar in the tightening of his lips, an echo of the last kiss they shared.

Lan Wangji stands, and crosses the dark floorboards between them. He sits at the edge of the bed, quiet and composed and every inch the cultivator Wei Wuxian always knew he would be, too good to end anywhere else, too principled to let his steps go astray. The silence between them is warm, now. Knowing.

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, trying for levity and ending somewhere far too low-voiced and genuine. “You’re too good to me. How will I thank you?”

Lan Wangi watches him, dark-eyed and intent. “A favor,” he says, and reaches up between them, presses his thumb to the corner of Wei Wuxian’s mouth. “A promise,” as the touch sweeps across Wei Wuxian’s lips.

Wei Wuxian swallows again. He doesn’t know what he might do, if he allows himself to move, so he doesn’t move at all.

Lan Wangji’s hand falls away. He folds his sleeve carefully to the side and raises his eyes once more.

“Stay,” he says, hardly even a whisper.

Wei Wuxian laughs. It spills out of him, surprise and joy and rushing thrill strumming through him.

“Of course!” He shifts closer, onto his knees, and takes Lan Wangji’s hand in both of his own. “Of course I’ll stay, Lan Zhan,” he says, and he seals the promise with a kiss.

#wangxian #wangxian fic #the untamed #chen qing ling #cql #kissing #that's it just kissing really #alex writes

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cryptenby · 3 years

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an abundance of green

so i’ve been watching critical role over quarantine and apparently it’s impossible for me to half ass anything so i’m obsessed, and obviously my love of rarepairs has gone nowhere, so im basically contractually obligated to write about Fjord and Caduceus. this has no plot, is completely indulgent and i really hope that whoever reads it enjoys it anyway lmao it’s also on ao3!!

They’re at the Xhorhaus at Caduceus’s own insistence. He told everyone he wanted to check on the tree and their makeshift temple, and Caduceus never asks for anything so the Mighty Nein is packing up before he’s finished the question. It almost makes him feel a little guilty, considering he really just wants to get his hands on Caleb and Essek. They need a good pot of tea and a solid talking to. Realistically, he thinks he could have just said that but Caleb is skittish about matters of the heart, especially when he didn’t initiate them on his own.

Beau knows though. She corners him before they leave, out of earshot of most everyone. “Duce. This about Essek?”

He laughs a little to himself, an airy thing. “Kind of. I would like to check on him, I'm hoping he’ll come see us. Or let us see him.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“You probably shouldn’t,” Caduceus grins.

“How is it possible that I know that you mean that but I still feel a little guilty?” she says, a little sheepish as Caduceus laughs. “How can you trust him so easily?”

“I have faith that you guys will ask the right questions. If he doesn’t care for us, or have our best interests at heart, I’m very confident the more suspicious of us will be on top of it. But I trust Mr. Caleb, and he didn't condemn him,” Caduceus says with a shrug. “Neither will I.”

Beau just looks at him for a moment before sniffing harshly and blowing out a loud breath. “Fucking fine. I won’t tear him a new one but don’t think I didn’t notice that you gave me permission to pull every possible piece of information out of him.”

“Of course,” Caduceus says, barely containing his smile. “I know who you are, Ms. Beau, and I expect you to be yourself.”

Beau blushes, for some reason, and clears her throat. “Right. Thanks, Duce.”

He gives a mock, half salute that he’s seen her give to their captain, and it makes her laugh before she strolls off. It doesn’t take them much longer before they’re off, Caleb finishing off the teleportation circle with a dramatic flourish that makes Jester giggle, the whole point of it, Caduceus is sure.

The familiar trek to the Xhorhaus seems to take no time at all, the tree he’s grown so fond of twinkling with a soft light the closer they get, a beacon, of sorts, welcoming them home. He’s a little surprised by how much he loves their place here; he’s not like the rest of the Nein, he already has a place that he considers home, so the new one was not so significant for him as for the others. In fact, it took him a while to even accept the place as theirs and not expect some ulterior motives to come to light. The feelings were unfamiliar territory for him at the time, suspicion and a lack of appreciation for a gift so grand, and the planting of the tree was a way for him to apologize and make peace in the space. It definitely seemed to work, if the happy flutter in his heart at the sound of the chimes when they enter is anything to go by.

Everyone goes to their respective rooms to store their things, chatting genially before they go their separate ways.

Everyone other than Fjord.

He does a loop around the common room, getting familiar again with his steps before he centers himself in the room, inhaling, and mumbling something under his breath with the exhale. The gentle reverb that follows confirms what Caduceus assumed he would do; the blade glows blue and Fjord glows with it, his See Invisibility spell activated.

The bunch in his muscles draw his attention first as he holds the greatsword aloft, inhaling again and opening his eyes on the exhale, their blue glow matching the runes on his blade. They highlight the depth of his cheekbones and strength of his jaw, his already handsome features softly accentuated. Fjord starts to walk the room with a more keen gaze, his steps strong and sure in a way Caduceus has only noticed since he accepted their Mother’s grace. He decides to turn tail and head up the stairs before Fjord has a chance to ask questions about his lingering that he isn’t prepared to answer.

The smell of dirt greets him as he ascends the stairs and he takes a deep breath, entering the roof with a grin. Everything is as he left it, the twinkling lights from their tree painting the room a soft yellow with their glow. Every bit of life to be seen seems to reach toward him as he enters and he greets them brightly, apologizing for being gone so long and asking each that he passes how they’re getting along.

A breeze warms him a little while later and it carries a friendly warning as it leaves him, explained when he hears the footsteps of someone approaching.

Too large to be Veth or Jester, too loud to be Beau or Yasha, too heavy to be Caleb, leaving only—

Fjord knocks gently twice before he lifts the hatch.

“Hey, Ducey,” he says with a smile. “Can I come up?”

“You know you’re always welcome, Mr. Fjord.”

Caduceus turns to greet him happily and sees some of the plants turn towards Fjord in his peripheral; he chuckles a bit at Fjord’s look of awe that he catches at a glance and shuffles over to grab the kettle and start a pot of tea. He turns back to ask Fjord if he wants any and stops, blinking slowly.

Fjord is saying something but Caduceus is barely paying attention, distracted as he is by the fitted, soft linen Fjord is adorned in. It’s not as though he’s never seen him in underclothes before, they’ve shared a space too many times for that to be the case, but those clothes all bore the wear and tear of the life the half-orc led, and politeness ensured Caduceus never let his eyes linger too long, for obvious and other reasons.

Never before had Caduceus seen Fjord looking so dressed down, so comfortable, cozy, safe. It fills him up inside, butterflies with wings stronger than any he’d encountered in Melora’s fields fighting for purchase in his belly. He wants to touch him: his face to memorize the laugh lines there, his chest to feel the steady beat of his heart, his back to guard it and ensure no one ever catches him unaware again.

He wants to protect him. He wants to tell him. He wants to keep looking and never say anything else ever again.

And that’s. Well, it’s weird.

Caduceus Clay, infatuated? Enamored? With one of his own party? How could it have happened without his notice?

“Uh, Caduceus?” Fjord calls, and he sounds closer than before.

Caduceus blinks slowly and looks down at his concerned friend now standing close enough to touch, and he takes advantage, grabbing him around the elbow, his dark green skin and black claws clashing prettily with Caduceus’s pale sleeves and light grey fur.

“Alright?” Fjord asks, sounding a little more concerned this time.

Caduceus blinks at him and clears his throat around a little white lie. “Yes, sorry. Sometimes I fall deep into my conversations with the Wildmother. Um, tea?”

Fjord looks closely at him before nodding and releasing him, and Caduceus takes the first chance to hide his face, cheeks blushing with his new revelation as he walks over to the little fire pit he’d dug out just for the kettle. He can hear Fjord walking closer, slowly, probably taking in the roof like he does every time he’s here, even though he’s seen it many times over. It’s endearing, and those butterflies from before seem to have made themselves at home in his belly, fluttering madly. He takes a couple deep breaths that don’t help at all and curses his luck.

“Man, I never get tired of that,” Fjord says, having finally made his way over and sitting down close by.

Caduceus looks at his smile and thinks, yeah, me either.

“It never really gets old.” He says instead. “Is that what you came up for? Not that I ever mind, just curious.”

“Oh, no, I wanted to thank you actually.” Fjord says. He’s looking at Caduceus with such earnest sincerity that Caduceus’s heart swoops in his chest. “I’m loath to admit it but I think I needed a break and I know I would never have bothered to ask, even once I figured out I needed it.

I know you don’t do it on purpose, but just having you around makes everything easier, better. And I feel like we don’t tell you that enough, or tell you thank you often enough. So, thank you.”

Fjord squeezes his hand, smiling softly at him, his lips finally used to the tusks that are growing in proud and strong. Caduceus grips him back and hopes that the answering squeeze and tears in his eyes are enough to express his gratitude.

“And also. I’m not around all the time obviously, so forgive me if I’m wrong, but you’ve never really talked about, you know, anything, really. You’ve gone through some pretty fucked shit like the rest of us and you deserve the care you keep trying to give everyone else. So, if you ever need to talk to anyone,” Fjord says softly, cupping one of Caduceus’s hands in both of his and smiling a self-deprecating grin. “I’m here. I’m a mess, but I’m a good listener.”

“Okay,” Caduceus says, around the lump in his throat. “Thank you, Mr. Fjord.”

“Okay,” Fjord says back, cheeky grin turning into a relieved smile. “Thank you, Mr. Clay.”

Caduceus nods and looks at him for longer than strictly necessary, and it doesn't escape his notice that Fjord lets him, stealing in some glances of his own. Caduceus’s heart swoops again and he finds himself wishing he could ask Melora for a bit of guidance, knowing her answer would be vague and leave him feeling more confused than ever. The frustration barely has time to take hold before he feels a warm breeze like fingers caressing his cheek and Fjord must soon follow, if his gentle chuckle is anything to go by.

He feels selfish for his frustration, fleeting as it was.

He looks at Fjord, and he wants.

He takes a deep breath.

He makes tea.

#fjorduceus #fjord x caduceus #critical role #teahaw #JUST A COUPLE OF BOYS BEING DUDES #just two polite guys!!!!!! being nice!!!!!#anyone else haunted by fjord saying hi caduceus all small and happy after he saved him #also listen melora is in the wind and she is always talking to her boy i dont know what you want from me #also beau just wants to be understood by the people she admires okay.....#tori writes

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vicecityhq · 3 years

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██████████████]99% LOADING...SUSPECT INTO THE APD DATABASE...

WITNESS(ES) SAY HE REMINDS THEM OF: the last plump dumpling on the plate that you and your friend fight over, the betrayal you feel when you drink a milkshake that’s too cold and get a brain freeze but it’s too good to stop, and the buzzing of a bumble bee flitting from flower to flower. With a slight resemblance to LEE JOOHEON (JOOHONEY) of/the MONSTA X.

CLICK BELOW TO VIEW ENTIRE FILE.

FULL FILE:

Last Name, First Name: Kkul Beol (actually his full name. He doesn’t have a surname) ALIAS: Yellowjacket Realm of birth(if earth, nationality): Divine Realm Age: Unknown, but has lived 26 years in Earth realm Date of Birth: May 20th (aka World Bee Day) Gender: Male Preferred Pronouns: he/him or they/them Species: Spiritual Fairy Occupation: The Howlers, Dealer Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

VISUAL FILE:

Skin Color: Milky, pale Eye color: Varies Scars: None Piercings: Ears, Dimple piercings Tattoos:When he doesn’t have his wings out, they manifest as bold linework that follows along his shoulder blades and down his back. He has a colorful fairy pinup girl on his right inner forearm. A bumble bee design on his left upper arm that blends into a fairy circle tattoo on that inner forearm. Various weeds and flowers on his legs. Hair color: Varies Abnormalities: Since Beol can reinvent his physical form to his liking, his features may change on a whim. However, he does tend to stick to the same form, with only his hair and eye color varying. Transformed form:As a spiritual fairy, Beol’s physical form is only a formality that allows him to better experience the world. His spiritual presence is formless and genderless. It is almost like looking at dust when it catches the light.

PERSONAL FILE:

RELIGIOUS BELIEF: N/A SINS: greed / gluttony / sloth / lust / pride / envy / wrath VIRTUES: chastity / charity / diligence / humility / kindness / patience / justice KNOWN LANGUAGES: Korean, English, Gaelic SECRETS: Beol manages to get out of being prosecuted for his crimes by charming the officers who try to arrest him with his fairy dust or using illusions to escape. SAVVIES: drawing, getting tattooed, playing pranks. Powers & Abilities: fairy dust manipulation, healing, wish granting (but it usually has a hidden caveat), semi-immortality, empathy, energy manipulation and absorption, energy barriers, energy blasts, malleable anatomy/shapeshifting, spirit physiology, illusions, intangibility, possession, telekinesis (via fairy dust manipulation), teleportation. Traits: (positive) chipper, animated, fun-loving and playful. (negative) fickle, impatient, gets petulant when things don’t go his way, doesn’t realize his pranks can be harmful or perhaps he feigns ignorance. Aesthetics: the last plump dumpling on the plate that you and your friend fight over, the betrayal you feel when you drink a milkshake that’s too cold and get a brain freeze but it’s too good to stop, and the buzzing of a bumble bee flitting from flower to flower.

BACKGROUND CHECK:

Date of Birth: May 20th, year unknown Date of Death: N/A Crime Record: Beol knows that he should avoid getting entangled with the authorities at all costs, but his innately mischievous nature contradicts rationality. He rather enjoys skating on thin ice when it comes to getting caught. When he was a “teen,” he often got in trouble for truancy, vandalism, and theft. Now, as an “adult,” he has to be far more conscious about getting caught. He has been charged with possession and possession with the intent to distribute, but - miraculously - has not served any jail time.

Background/Biography:

In a time long ago, Celts used to believe that when a person slept or entered a hypnotic state that their soul left the body in the form of a bee. Sometimes those souls got lost on the way back (or perhaps were detained) and found their way to the divine realm of the fae, where they would become what is known as spiritual fairies. Or at least that was the story Beol’s mother told them, but the reality was that there was no living fae who remembered exactly where they originated. Their mother would affectionately call them their ‘wandering little bee’ because Beol was an adventurous child who could never be tied down in one place. It came as no surprise to them when Beol decided to leave the realm they’d always known and venture out into the human world.

When Beol crossed over to the mortal plane, they embraced the incredibly different way of life with childish wonder and enthusiasm. At first they explored in their spiritual form and enjoyed playing all sorts of pranks on unsuspecting humans, but - as is typical of the fickle nature of fairies - that grew boring quickly. Beol eventually constructed a physical form so they could better interact with others around them. Being a young and playful soul, Beol chose the façade of a school-aged child since their fun-loving antics were very similar to his own. What he didn’t take into account, though, was that a parentless, vagrant child stood out and it wasn’t long before his friend’s parents became concerned for his well-being.

In his naivety, Beol didn’t think much of it when they’d asked where he lived and who looked after him, telling them that he took care of himself and stayed wherever he wanted. That naturally led to the police being contacted and Beol was placed in an orphanage until they could find a family for him. Truthfully, he could have simply flitted off and ventured someplace new, but the idea of living with other kids sounded like an eternal sleepover to him and how could that be bad? Of course, it wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies in the system. Many of the orphans came from broken homes and were passed around to fosters that were no better. They’d come back with new scars and bereft of their smiles, their innocence gobbled up by the darkness within others.

Beol couldn’t stand seeing them hurt. He could vividly imagine how they’d gotten each bruise like he’d experienced it himself and felt their anguish like a bottomless pit in the center of his chest. Yet he wasn’t powerless to fight against it like they were and Beol quickly went from using his abilities for harmless fun to avenging his friends. He would go out of his way to be assigned to their previous foster parents and would make sure to traumatize them so much with his illusion magicks that they never dared to take in another child again. While it did make him feel better, his habit of terrorizing parents tarnished his record and made him increasingly difficult to adopt out. Not that that bothered Beol. Sure, it was hard watching his friends eventually leave to go with loving parents, but protecting those that remained had become his responsibility and he knew he wouldn’t be able to do that if he left. Besides, he had parents and didn’t need new ones, even if his counselors never believed him when he told them.

As he “aged” into teenage years, Beol’s outer image evolved to suit his interests and style. He became close with the more rebellious crowd, other lost boys and girls like himself who couldn’t care less about authority or conforming to what society wanted. They spent more time in seedy pc bangs and back alleys sharing a pack of smokes than they did in school or hoping for families that would never accept them. It was around this time that he actually came out about what he really was and where he’d come from, though that identity seemed like a far off memory now. He was no longer a shade wearing the suit of a man and could freely embrace his quirkier side without worrying about anyone disapproving.

INTERVIEW QUESTION (para sample): “Just run us through what happened that night”. - Officer

This charade always amused Beol. Every time he found himself in this position, with an officer staring him down on the other side of the table in the cramped interrogation room, he wondered why their initial play was to put on this veil of ignorance. As if they didn’t already know what he did or have evidence against him. Did it actually work on suspects? He assumed that most people dug themselves into a hole trying to weave a pitiful fallacy with the same gusto as a scared child blaming the broken vase on the cat in the hopes that it would exonerate them. Beol, on the other hand, was a sophisticated liar and not burdened with the pressing need to evade something. He could phase out of the room right before their very eyes, after all. So the only reason he had to deceive them was simply because it was fun.

“Well, I can’t just start with last night, officer. That’s not how good storytelling works.” He countered coyly and rocked the chair back onto the two rear legs so he could kick his clunky boots up onto the table. Dirt and grime broke loose from the deep grooves in the sole and fell onto the open file set out before the policeman who was trying his best to see unperturbed, but Beol relished in the neigh imperceptible way his jawline tensed in annoyance. “It all began when my parents died in a tragic car accident and I was adopted by my rotten aunt and uncle. You know, they always told me my father was a drunk and that the apple wouldn’t fall far from the tree. So at least I’m exceeding someone’s expectations. Anyway, this one day, we went to the zoo for my cousin’s birthday and there was this enormous python-”

#vcaccepted #vchowlers

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greasers-stole-my-social-life · 4 years

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The Gang’s Superpowers - HCs

I had a lot of fun with these and hope y’all enjoy!!

Darry

Power: Hyper-Awareness/Spidey Senses

Ok so his nickname is literally Superman, so I feel like he’d have it all - x-ray vision, flight, super strength, etc. - but, if he could only have one power, it would be ultra-awareness(aka spidey senses(also, i know that this isn’t one of Superman’s powers, but I still imagined it’s a power he would have 😊)).

He became aware of his senses when he prevented a young Ponyboy from burning his hands on the stove while trying to climb to the top of the cabinets for a cookie

He would be aware of everything going on around him, and he knows exactly when danger approaches.

If someone dropped a glass, he would be there to catch it before it hits the ground and shatters

the gang would be rough housing before a rumble and Darry would run into the living room to catch Sodapop before he hits his head on the coffee table

He goes out of his way to make sure the gang stays out of trouble, and he only uses his powers for good!

One time, he sensed danger while on a break from work, and saved a child from getting hit by a car. If it weren’t for him, the child would’ve died chasing after his balloon.

when strangers ask abt the incident, he always lies and says that it was a fluke, but we know the truth!

Weakness: Ponyboy. Just like Superman, having heightened senses can be atrocious and make it difficult to carry out normally simple tasks. He struggled a lot with his powers as a child and couldn’t calm down easily, but luckily Soda was able to help him out a lot by teaching him how to focus(which is kinda funny since Soda can’t concentrate for shit lol).

BONUS: Darry would most certainly have super strength, and it would actually be hilarious bc he wouldn’t want to draw attention to his superhuman strength so he would hold himself back all of the time and act like some things were far too heavy for him! Even when he would set down a glass, he had to focus a lot to make sure he didn’t smash it by mistake

Sodapop

Power: The ability to heal others/take pain away

I feel like Soda’s really empathetic and would be a strong healer.

When someone close to him gets hurt, he can’t help but heal them bc he cares so much about them

Once he learned about his powers and how it could be dangerous if someone found out that he could miraculously heal people with serious injuries, he decided to take pain away from people instead

If an injury is too severe or he doesn’t get to someone in time, the only thing he can do is remove the pain the person is feeling

when Pony was playing hide and seek with Curly when he was little, he climbed a tree to hide but ended up falling out of it instead, ultimately breaking his arm. Soda ran over and healed his arm before he could even cry. It was their little secret

He felt tremendous guilt when his parents died bc he felt as though he could’ve saved them if he had been there

he tried his best to heal his brothers’ pains after their parent’s deaths, but he was too hurt himself to be able to help others

The reason why Darry loves Soda’s massages so much is bc Soda secretly removes Darry’s pain

Darry doesn’t like Soda using his powers all willy nilly, so Soda just pretends that he’s good at giving massages naturally when in reality, he’s using his powers lol

Eventually, Darry catches on, but doesn’t say anything...the man deserves to be healed after a long day of roofing!

Weakness: When he’s hurt, emotionally or physically, he can’t help anyone. He can actually cause them more pain and inflict the pain that he feels onto others. He doesn’t mean to, but he simply can’t help it!

Ponyboy

Power: Mimic other’s powers

unlike the rest of the gang, who automatically knew exactly what their powers were and how to use them, Pony had trouble deciphering what his ability was

it wasn’t until Soda healed his broken arm that he realized his unique ability

he copied Soda’s exact actions and ended up healing a butterfly’s torn wing

everyone thought he was a healer like Soda, but then, when Steve was able to fix a car without having to look at the manual, Pony fixed his stereo that he thought was long gone without any knowledge of radios, and his power was revealed

He often times fails to see how his powers could help others, and never aids other people unless prompted to

this also stems from the fact that he gets overwhelmed easily and has trouble creating a plan on the spot

he’s still in the process of learning how to be an effective hero, but luckily he has the rest of the gang to help him harness his craft

his favorite power changes day to day, but when he mimics someone’s power and really loves it, he goes on a streak using that power for weeks!

the main reason that he doesn’t use his powers much is bc hes low key disappointed that he doesn’t have his own specific power, and feels like he steals them from everyone else

little does he know that he is probably one of the most powerful superheroes out there!!

Weakness: Just like how he can take other people’s powers, he also adopts their weaknesses. So, if he’s using Soda’s power to heal someone else, he can’t do it if he’s hurt as well.

Steve

Power: Understanding the inner-workings of machines and technology

While it may seem like a boring power, Steve actually has one of the most useful powers there is

His mom thought he was just really smart at first, but when their TV broke, he was able to fix it within minutes at age 4 and they knew it was more than just being insanely smart!

suddenly, he was able to fix everything, from toasters to radios to motorcycles

Soda cheered him on and Steve kept improving his repair times

part of the reason Steve got a job with Soda at the DX was bc he wanted someone to keep track of how fast he was able to complete jobs...and bc he loves Soda

he has to be careful that he doesn’t repair a car too quickly too often bc he’s worried that people may discover his power and try to take advantage of him

He always tries to help his friends when he can, and has fixed Darry’s truck on multiple occasions

sometimes he worries that people use him just for repairs, but he knows that he can always count on the gang to make sure that he knows his power is valued

he’s relieved that he has friends to lean on that know the struggle of having superpowers and having to be so secretive

When technology started advancing more, he couldn’t help but take the new tech apart and piece it back together again for fun

he keeps this to himself bc he thinks that it’s a bit nerdy to do something like that, but he thoroughly enjoys it

Weakness: He can’t explain the inner workings of things to other people. This seems fine on the surface, but in crises, the pressure is all on him. This also means that when he repairs something, he has trouble discussing what the problem was, which can rub customers at the DX the wrong way.

Two-Bit

Power: Hallucinations

He found out he could cause people to hallucinate when he was in preschool

his teacher was bothering him bc she kept telling him to “stop distracting his classmates” so he imagined that a snake, his teacher’s biggest fear, was in the room, and sure enough, his teacher and classmates jumped out of their seats screaming

when the custodian came in to put the snake outside, it was just gone

he mainly uses his powers for pranking purposes

BUT he still uses his powers to help others when possible!!

He uses it in school when teachers confront him about not turning in assignments

“Mr. Mathews, where is your homework?” “Uh, it’s right in front of you?” and he would have a smug smile while they fumbled and apologized profusely. Ofc, when he would leave, so would the homework, but teachers were embarrassed to ask him about it again

If a soc was about to jump a greaser, Two would make them hallucinate that the rest of the gang was with him and could outnumber the socs

he’s not very subtle about who sees his powers, and anytime a stranger points it out, her tries to make them believe that they’re wrong or that they’ve hit their head

Darry tries to make him better about hiding/disguising his power, but Two often times gets flustered and gives himself away.

he’s the only one in the gang, besides Dallas, that has to wear a disguise if he wants to use his power bc otherwise he exposes himself

Weakness: His hallucinations are only temporary and require focus, so he has to be careful when and where he causes hallucinations. When fighting a villain, his power is good for distractions, but the hallucinations can’t do anything physical to anyone. ex, If he caused a hallucination of a snake, the snake can not actually cause harm to others.

Johnny

Power: Siren/Compulsion

Johnny found out about his power when he was little by begging his dad to “stop” when he was yelling at his mom and him

his dad just stopped. No movement, it was just a halt in his movements. He realized that he had the power to command people around

He dislikes his power because he doesn’t like being able to have that much control over anyone, even people as terrible as his parents

the reason he’s so quiet is because he never wants to accidentally boss someone around or cause them to do something bad

he’s overly cautious with his word choice so that he doesn’t mistakenly tell someone to do something

when he sings/hums to himself without thinking, no matter how quiet he is, he accidentally draws people to him

most of the time it’s Dally or Pony lol

he kinda resents his power because it’s harder to have control over than the rest of the gangs’ powers

the gang always tries to lift him up about his power tho!

they know that he has no ill will and they know that he’s capable of controlling his power

He feels best when he can use his power for good, and always tries to be as helpful as possible while causing the least damage possible

this boy doesn’t have a bad bone in his body, so there’s really no reason for him to worry about abusing his power

Weakness: Much like the sirens in most fairy tales, he can not control people that are hard of hearing or deaf, or if they are covering/blocking their ears with headphones or earbuds. In a way, he is also his own weakness because he sometimes thinks he’s not capable of using his power! But he is!! He’s the most responsible with his power!

Dallas

Power: Teleportation

He first discovered his power when he was about 8

he was in the process of stealing candy with his NY gang, but he was cornered by the store owner

he panicked and closed his eyes, then poof! He was outside the store behind his friends, running away with all of the stolen candy in his hands

He uses his powers all of the time for crimes...and to show off

Darry warns him all of the time not to abuse his power, but as much as Dally respects Darry, he still uses his power far too often and carelessly

one of the reasons he had to leave NY is bc people began to catch on to the fact that something about him was superhuman

if he doesn’t want to deal with someone, he just vanishes and goes to anywhere else.

one time he accidentally ended up in Russia, but that’s a story for another time lol

he doesn’t wear a disguise even tho he really should with how much he uses his power

he’s used his power to get away from girls that he lost interest in instead of actually confronting his feelings

when no one’s paying attention, he does actually use his power for good

one time a guy kept pursuing a woman outside of Buck’s after she said no multiple times, so Dallas teleported in between them and knocked him out cold

he hates when people thank him for saving them so he usually gtfo’s before they get the chance to say anything to him

his heroism is discrete in his mind, but everyone knows that he’s a hero in the dark

Weakness: If he doesn’t have enough time to plan where he’s going to teleport to, drinks too much, or doesn’t focus enough on the destination, he can end up somewhere completely random. One time he accidentally teleported himself into a holding cell at the police station after drinking too much at one of Buck’s parties and was too tired to teleport out until the morning.

I hope you enjoyed reading my hcs as much as I enjoyed writing them!! Let me know if there’s anything else you’d like for me to write about!! Stay safe!

#the outsiders #the outsiders hcs #dallas winston #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #ponyboy curtis #johnny cade #Two-Bit Mathews #steve randle #darrel curtis #dally

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mozaikrolez · 3 years

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soooo i decided to go ahead & write some lil headcanons for shinobu’s fantasy!au where she is a pixie ! this verse can be used for crossover over interactions or anyone really ! kyojuro rengoku has one as well ( link here ) !

i decided to settle on having shinobu being a pixie due to her cheerful personality . pixies are believed to be the reason why kids go missing in forests ( travellers as well ) . shinobu would be very kind to children , showing them her magic n what not . after spending time with them she’d bring them back home safely . travelers on the other hand , she’s not always very nice to them .

all the people who she’s nice to are called ‘ play pals ‘ & she regularly visits hem .

she appears to have a soft spot for the sweet & naïve . it’s almost like she’s a protector of innocence or something ( whether that be for children or the kind / pure hearted ) . if she finds out one of her play pals got bullied or something akin to that , bet she’s paying those meanies a visit .

one that note , since pixies are just a sub category of fearies , her lore falls somewhat in line with certain beliefs attached to fearies in general , such as ; some fearies are believed to be working along side either good or bad spirits like demons or angels . what does shinobu align herslef with ?? who knows , she won’t say . just know that crossing her isn’t a good idea .

on that note , she is part of the seelie courts . in simple terms , she isn’t going to always go out of her way to trouble someone & her presence doesn’t signify misfortune , but when disrespect is shown she will retaliate in ways that may come off as excessive . on the other hand , if she is respected & presented with gifts shinobu will show kindness .

you know how i said she is very spiteful ? at times , she does take matters into her own hands . shinobu is a pixie that specializes in poisoning . she does this by biting those she wishes to effect . while called poison , the effects don’t only do the typical things any poison would do . her poison , depending on what she intends to do , can have effects like a curse . the end result may take some time to finally show ( years even , or the rest of someone's life ) , but they will eventually . sometimes these poisons don’t kill her target , maybe they only make the bitten poisonous , killing those around them , etc . but like any poison , this magic does have a cure ! exorcists can typically remove the poison from her victims .

since i just kept going , i’ll put the rest under the cut !

she is rather small , just big enough to fit in the palms of the average persons hand . she can become bigger but not by much . i’d say she can get as tall as mono from little nightmares .

shinobu is still very small for a pixie especially when compared to her sister . most can’t tell until they stand side by side . kanae’s wings appear to ‘ fit ‘ her better while shinobu’s appear too big for her .

of course she can transform into a butterfly !

shinobu has butterfly wings similar to the butterfly hairclip she wears but with subtle changes . her wings glow & the light they emit softly & slowly pulsates a light blue colour . glowing pixie dust can be seen trailing off her wings at all times . she also has antenna’s !

shinobu has a ‘ scary ‘ or threatening appearance ! while she gets angry or isn’t focusing on keeping up her approachable typical appearance , she reverts to what she actually looks like . she truly sports longer hair that is tied back in a high ponytail . her sclera are black & her eyes keep the almost dead look . her wings primary base colour is black with glowing purple detailing , the dust & pulsating light remain but appear as if they are there to distort others . she sports fangs & her nails are long & black with the colour fading into her finger tips . her antenna’s sharpen almost like thin horns .

#˗ˋ *ﾟ & ⟶ 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐮. ／ headcanons.

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cagestark · 4 years

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WinterIronSpider//5

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

sorry about this, really wanted to share SOMETHING with you, even if it’s not my best work.

Here on AO3. -

At the sound of Tony Stark’s rumbling voice, Peter’s stomach drops to somewhere around his socked-toes. All the terrible things that could have happened (not that he’d been imagining any of them, not when he saw Bucky’s pale eyes drop to his lips. All thoughts of morals had been beaten away by the butterfly wings that battered inside his stomach), all those terrible things that could befall any infidelious person and this is the worst of them. Getting caught.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter gasps, stumbling back to put distance between himself and Bucky. Nothing to see here, nothing funny, just two acquaintances slow dancing with red, raw mouths. Yeah—Peter can’t imagine anyone being able to pull the wool over Tony Stark’s eyes, much less himself. Even if he had an excuse that wasn’t thin as he is, there’s no way his conscience could let him hide behind it. Aunt May hadn’t raised him to be that kind of man. Shoulders bowing, Peter says, “Please don’t be angry at Bucky. I came on to him, he—”

“Is that true, Bucky?” Tony asks. “Did you make this sweet, sick boy do all the work?”

“Hell no,” Bucky mutters. “My ma raised me better than that. He didn’t have to lift a finger.”

Had the pneumonia scrambled Peter’s brain? Maybe the medicine Dr. Banner gave him had strange (wonderful) hallucinogenic properties that hadn’t manifested until now. His eyes flicker back and forth between the easy banter of the couple, throat growing tighter and tighter.

“In that case, don’t mind me. Fly on the wall,” Tony says, leaning back into the doorway. In his three piece suit, he is the picture of a respectable businessman. The way his eyes burn as he traces up and down them is anything but respectful. His tongue traces his lower lip and Peter replays the sight in his head in ultra high-definition. “Pretend I’m not here. Picture me in my underwear, if you’d prefer—you know, that idiom doesn’t work when I’m not wearing underwear, but these goddamn worsted wool suits, you can see every line—”

“What, you’re, you—I’m sorry Mr. Stark, but are you joking?” Peter wonders. A worse thought comes with no justification save for a long history of experiencing cruelty at other people’s hands: what if they’re trying to trick him? What into, Peter can’t be certain. What he is certain of is that no man like Tony Stark (no man in general) could possibly be okay with someone else kissing their lover.

Tony’s face goes soft, a tender twisting of his mouth. Peter’s eyes drop. No, these aren’t the kinds of men who would trick or hurt him. Surely if he looks Tony in the eye, the man will see Peter’s cowardice, his betrayal of their characters.

“Kid—I’m sorry. It was just a joke. In a way.” Tony lifts the needle on the record player and the music cuts away, leaving a heavy silence behind that no one is sure how to fill. After a stretch, Tony goes on: “Pizza for dinner? Are you hungry?”

Peter is always hungry. “Yes, but—Mr. Stark, maybe I should go.”

“You can’t even stay for dinner?”

“I—alright. No—I mean. I don’t know.”

Tony turns to Bucky. The tone he uses to speak to the other man is night and day from the tone he uses with Peter, his voice low and familiar. “Did you not explain anything to him? What have you been up to all day, buttercup?”

Bucky’s mouth curls up at the corner, a wry, guilty look that makes him look ten years younger. “Dancin’?”

Peter clears his plate twice, burning the roof of his mouth (though he hardly cares, the pizza is so good. From someplace in upper Manhattan, real gourmet stuff topped with portobello mushrooms and red peppers and black olives). Bucky is almost as ravenous, folding his pizza like a true New-Yorker. When he takes his metal fingers into his mouth to suck the grease off, Peter has to look away, stomach feeling hot in a way that has nothing to do with the peppers on the pizza. That mouth, those fingers, god.

All throughout dinner, Tony’s dark eyes flicker back and forth like they are prime entertainment, looking a little heated under the collar himself when Bucky cleans his hands. He tells them a story about running into a professional Tony Stark impersonator in the pizza shop, until Peter nearly forgets that there’s a reason Mr. Stark should hate him. By the time nothing remains but empty, grease-sodden pizza boxes, Peter feels sleepy and full, lulled in the best way.

“Two things, kid,” Tony says, using a napkin to wipe his mouth. “Small things. We’d like you to live here, and also Bucky would like to make out—“

“Nice opening,” Bucky huffs, eyebrows low and threatening. “Any other bombshells to drop on him? You his bio dad? Tell him that I killed JKF?”

“FRIDAY, scrub the last five minutes,” Tony snaps.

Peter struggles to follow along. Tony began to lose him somewhere around live here and left him in the dust at Bucky would like to make out. Blinking hard, nothing changes, no world slipping sideways, no veil lifting to reveal everything as a hallucination. But surely this can’t be real life. Real life wouldn’t be nearly so strange.

“I have no idea what’s going on,” Peter admits, fingers tapping his thighs in an anxious rhythm. “Did you say something about living here, Mr. Stark?”

“Let’s start with Bucky first, actually,” Tony says, eyes glittering like he’s getting strange pleasure from seeing Peter so flustered.

“Tony—”

“No, no, you had your chance to talk to him during the 9-5. You’re officially off the clock. We’re all about not violating Fair Labor Standards Act.” Bucky’s face gives away nothing. His metal hand makes a sound as he clenches it into a tight fist and then tucks it into his lap, shrugging in a way that says less fine, whatever and more I, very begrudgingly and under extreme duress, relent. When Tony’s gaze turns back on Peter, he can’t help but stare down at his lap and the fraying knees of his pants. Aunt May always said the eyes are the window to the soul. “Kid, there’s no reason to apologize to me for kissing Bucky. We’re open. Do you understand what I mean?”

Peter clears his throat, mouth dry. “You mean you’re in an open relationship?”

“We don’t usually label it, but that’s acceptable terminology. We aren’t people who stifle our desires, how’s that? Sometimes Bucky’s with someone else, sometimes I’m with someone else, sometimes we’re both with someone else, but we’re always with each other. Bucky has my explicit approval to make moves on young, pneumonia-ridden college students, so long as they are willing.”

Imagining Tony and Bucky together is enough to make him want to squirm in his seat. Imagining them sharing someone between them makes him long to pant like a dog, anything to help abate the volcanic heat bubbling up inside him. One thing at a time, Pete, he thinks to himself. He’s good at giving himself pep talks. After all, for a long time there was no one else around to encourage him. “That makes sense, Mr. Stark. But what does that mean? Mr.—Bucky wants to, to...you know?”

“That is a question you can direct to the defendant. Mr. Bucky?”

Peter colors, looking at the long-haired man from beneath his dark eyelashes.

“I want to kiss you any time you’re looking sad,” Bucky says, eyes on the hardwood of the table. “I want to make sure you don’t have anymore reasons to cry when you’re around me or not. I want to protect you. I want to kill your enemies—”

“He’s a poet, isn’t he, regular Shakespeare—FRIDAY, let’s just scrub this whole conversation okay—”

“I’m sorry,” Peter says, “But it’s Monday, Mr. Stark.”

Tony smiles. It hints at a lot, not half of which Peter can decipher. He adjusts the blue-tinted glasses on his face. “Right. You’re right, Peter. Did Bucky answer your question?”

Replaying it in his mind, Peter can feel himself flushing. His mouth tingles where an hour before, Bucky’s own had been pressed against it. If Bucky wants to kiss him every time he’s looking sad, then Peter won’t ever smile again. Not if he can help it. “Sort of. I guess I just don’t get why. You two have each other, and you’re both. Wow. You’re both really wow. I think if I—” Peter barely manages to stop before he says something hopelessly romantic and tragic, something like how he thinks if he had either of them, he’d never be sad again. “I just don’t understand why you’d be interested in anyone else.”

“I don’t believe in soulmates,” Tony says. He walks to the bar in the corner and pours himself an amber-colored drink. “I believe in chemistry. That’s a renewable resource in my book, Pete, one that can be experienced between a multitude of people all at once. A gas stove has several burners, and just because you turn the gas up on one doesn’t mean you can’t ignite the others, does it?”

“Not if it’s a good stove.”

“Not if it’s a good stove,” Tony repeats, voice warm like the alcohol he sips at. He tips the glass towards Bucky. “Snowflake here believes that a person can have many soulmates. It’s all about the ones we choose to cultivate. Sometimes it’s that deep. And not to watch you flush, kid, but sometimes it’s just about the sex.”

Peter works to keep his face neutral even if he can feel the heat of a blush crawling across his skin. Mr. Stark must think him a blushing virgin (and in some aspects, Peter is). Hopefully, he can’t tell that Peter’s flush is more arousal than embarrassment.

“So which am I?” He asks, glancing nervously to Bucky. “Am I a cultivating thing or am I a sex thing?”

“You’re not a thing at all,” Bucky says. The murderous expression on his face doesn’t agree with his words. “You’re a human being. But it’s more than just sex. Sex doesn’t need to be included at all. See—I told Tony this morning that we were going to move too fast. We shouldn’t even be mentioning sex until after the third date—“

“Incredible. Do you hear that, kid? He didn’t take me on a date until after the sixth or seventh tryst in the lab. You’re something special.” Tony’s waggling eyebrows belie any jealousy or bitterness Peter might have imagined.

Still. Peter can’t help but feel...special. Not in a million years would he have imagined someone as handsome as Bucky Barnes being interested in him, not romantically, not sexually, not any way at all. He feels more than a little like he’s stepped into the Twilight Zone. Surely any moment Rod Sterling will appear leaning against the bar talking to some invisible camera.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Peter says, wringing his hands in his lap. He smiles at Bucky with shaking lips, watching the furrowed brow smooth. “I don’t expect anything at all. This is like, not expected. At all. Way out of left field. I still don’t understand…”

“Which part?” Tony asks. He puts a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, thumb soothing the skin just above the collar of the man’s shirt, and Peter feels it all over.

“The me part,” Peter admits. “You could have anybody. Why me? Not to sound like, like I’m fishing for compliments or anything but I’m not the sort of guy people are attracted to.” But. Bad thoughts come rolling in like thunderheads, always clinging to the edges of his mind eager to blot out any sun that might appear, because there’s one thing Peter knows he’s good at. One thing people are attracted to.

Mr. Rumlow tells him so.

Peter shivers despite the warmth of the room, pizza sitting like a heavy stone in his gut. God, why had he told Bucky and Mr. Stark about the arrangement between himself and the super of his apartment complex? Their reactions were fuzzy in his mind, the effects of the medicine he’d taken turning everything mottled and loose at the edges, but Peter knows how it sounds. He knows what he would think, if it had been another student sucking Mr. Rumlow’s dick anytime he knocks just to keep from having to pay rent.

It’s not as bad as it sounds, though. Mr. Rumlow (“Call me Brock, I think you’ve more than earned it, Pete”) is attractive enough. He’s not really rough, not large enough to leave Peter’s throat sore the way a bigger cock might (Peter has read on the internet that that’s Possible). He likes to say foul things while Peter’s on his knees, things he knows that are just said during sex, like how Peter is so dirty, such a slut for his cock. But more often than not, Peter just drowns that out.

Why he feels so pathetic thinking about it, he isn’t sure.

“Kid.”

Peter looks up and sees the blurry form of Tony, the taller form of Bucky crouched down beside his seat. Eyes stinging, he reaches up to palm at them. His hands come away damp, vision clear, but now he can see the worry on Tony’s face, the intense stare Bucky has fixed him with, and that makes it so much worse. People caring rubs a tender part of him raw and it hurts.

“I’m not doing such a good job keeping you from crying,” Bucky mutters, handing Peter a cloth plucked from beneath the bar to wipe his face with.

Peter laughs wetly. “Can’t kiss all my sadness away.”

“Can sure as hell try,” Bucky says. His metal hand cups Peter’s chin with contradicting tenderness, cooler than skin. His eyes flutter closed on instinct, opening only when the older man pauses close enough that Peter can feel his warm breath against his face. Those eyes, the entire expression—it makes Peter feel like Bucky could swallow him whole. And Peter might like it. “Tell me if you want it.”

“I want it,” Peter breathes.

Bucky kisses him. The sound that slips past Peter’s lips is downright disgraceful, a needy desperate little thing that Bucky swallows, his metal thumb coming up to coax Peter’s jaw open. Peter’s only prior kiss was a girl in highschool, and it was nothing like this. That had been an anxious, quick thing, more time spent worrying about his breath and where to put his hands and how to turn his head so their noses wouldn’t touch than time spent actually kissing. This is a submersive experience. Nothing but Bucky exists, Bucky and his tender hand, the tongue that teases, the mouth that sucks when Peter is brave enough to go exploring with his own.

Eyes opening a fraction, his heart jerks in his chest because—

Tony.

Tony stands having taken a few steps back, watching them with wide, wondrous eyes. His throat bobs as he swallows, Peter’s eyes tracking the movement. Why, Peter wonders, does the sight of Mr. Stark watching them make every last drop of blood in his body turn tail and head south? He can’t help but groan, letting his heavy lids fall shut again, neck going lax while Bucky kisses him deep and slow and filthy.

Maybe they kiss for a minute or ten. Long enough for Peter’s tears to dry, for his cock to ache, for his lips to feel raw and swollen. When they part, Bucky’s eyes seem to burn, the thinnest sliver of silver corona around the aroused pupil—and then they flicker over Peter’s shoulder. Peter turns to see that Tony is lounging against the bar, face buried in his phone. He glances up at their movement and gives them a smile that is small but real and warm.

“Coming up for air?” Tony asks. He slips his phone into his pocket. “Before you have Peter as desert on the dining room table, there is one more important item to discuss.”

Peter’s head swims drunkenly. Fingers tighten at the nape of his neck where they are buried in his curls. They release in an instant—just an anxious reflex—but Peter’s eyes flutter anyway. How long has it been since he was touched? Mr. Rumlow. Before that? MJ and Ned, when they’d visited him over their semester break last year. Sometimes his skin downright itched, he was so desperate for someone to hug him, to put their hand on his shoulder. His heart would burst at the sound of Rumlow knocking on his door, just to feel human contact, just to feel wanted.

Shaking his head, Peter struggles to clear it. “Sorry Mr. Stark. What, what else is there?”

“The matter of your destitution,” Tony says, taking his seat at the table again. His glass is full now, though Peter never heard him pour it. “Delicately put—you lack resources. I have an abundance of them. I’d like us to come to some sort of arrangement. Preferably one that doesn’t make me feel seedy, but even more importantly!—one that doesn’t make you feel trapped.”

Peter blinks. “Trapped?”

Tony clears his throat. His hands can’t seem to still, fiddling with the tumbler glass, adjusting where it rests on the napkin. Nervous ticks?, Peter wonders. What could a brilliant, powerful man like Tony Stark have to be worried about? “I wanted to invite you to move in to our penthouse; there’s plenty of room. But my better half over there told me that you might feel obliged to say yes even if you didn’t really want to. Or that saying yes might make it difficult for you to maintain your independence.”

“You want me to live with you?” Peter can hear how his voice grows high towards the end. Even to his own ears, it sounds like hysteria. Maybe most of it is shock, but there’s a part of it (a frighteningly large part) that is...excited. This is young Peter’s dream, his idol asking him to live with him. Kid fantasies. Nothing that should ever be possible.

At his shrill voice, Tony winces. “Here’s what we want: your security ensured and your health maintained. Whatever it takes to see those things come to fruition. Our one request is that you don’t go back to Lafayette Hall. There are people there who would, who are taking advantage of you, kid. As it is, I have it under good authority that Lafayette Hall will be experiencing a change of management soon, but until it does, it would be a real comfort to Bucky and I to know that you aren’t vulnerable.”

His face burns. It takes effort to swallow past the knot in his throat. “If I didn’t go back there, where else would I go?”

“You’ve got options,” Bucky says, voice a warm, comforting timber from beside him.

“One,” Tony says, holding up a finger. “I can set you up in a nice apartment close to campus. All amenities taken care of. I know the supers, very hands off kinds of people. Two, I could set you up on a different floor in the Tower here. I have several that used to belong to the Avengers, but they come and go so sporadically now that there’s no sense in giving them their own permanent space. You’d be free to come and go from the Tower the way you would any apartment. It would be as much your home as ours.”

“Or I could stay here with you?” Peter asks.

“I’m prepared to have provide any legal requisite that would make you feel comfortable, so that you would know there’s no obligation to Bucky or to myself. I have lawyers at the Tower six days a week; they’d be more than glad to do paperwork that prevents me from potentially causing a legal scandal. For once.”

“Mr. Stark, this is, that—it’s all more than generous. Not to sound like a broken record, I just don’t understand why,” Peter says. “Why me? Why would you spend so much money on me, if you aren’t getting anything in return?”

If there’s one thing Peter has learned in life, it’s that no kindness is unconditional. Yet here Tony is trying to convince him of that very thing, that Peter can have his cake and eat it too, that there are no strings attached to this gift. Just a big, beautiful bow.

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” says Tony. It’s too difficult to look away from his heated gaze. And Peter doesn’t want to. “ You’re intelligent, hardworking, kind. I was barely two of those things when I was your age, and I’ll let you decide which. I want to see you thrive kid, and if that means investing some—not even a fraction—of my resources, then it will be more than worth it. If nothing else, feel free to consider me a lecherous rich bastard who will sleep easier at night knowing he’s doing his civic duty.

“So what do you say, Pete? No need to break it to me gently, though there will be a mandatory period of forty-eight hours of sulking should you say no, just a warning, but don’t—”

“Yes. Yes, absolutely,” Peter says, tucking his fingers beneath his thighs to keep from doing something embarrassing like clapping or throwing his arms around the man. He should say no. May never liked the idea of handouts. She was a proud woman who worked until she couldn’t stand anymore and had instilled in him the same work ethic. Would she be disappointed in him for taking this easy way out, for accepting generosity without giving Mr. Stark anything in return?

If Peter lets himself wonder questions like that, then he’d never stop.

“Yes? Yes? That was easy.”

“Tony’s used to people telling him no,” Bucky says slyly.

“As they should,” says Tony, leaning back in his chair. It’s not hard to imagine that the smile on the older man’s face might be thanks to Peter, but it’s certainly hard enough to believe. “I was convinced I might have to beg you to take my money, kid. I’ve been turned down a few times in the name of pride.”

Peter smiles, lips pressed together tight so that he doesn’t have to say anything like, Don’t worry Mr. Stark, I have no pride.

“You could have Sam’s floor, it’s right below this one, and he spends most of his time in DC anyway,” Bucky suggests. The man looks about as happy as Peter’s seen him. Something about his serious face isn’t made for smiling, the low brows and narrowed eyes and downturned lips, but his brow is smooth and the corners of his lips quirk upwards.

“Oh, not here? Up here, I mean. With you two?” Peter cringes even as the words slip out. Of course they wouldn’t want him up here in their space, not when there were better options so close by. Still, an entire slideshow had played inside his brain of all the domestic activities they could get up to together: watching movies on the couch at night after Mr. Stark came home from work, cooking breakfast in the morning with Bucky at the stove. He should just be grateful, though. Grateful he’ll be in a place with food and heat and running water that doesn’t taste like iron and rust.

“Up here?” Tony asks. He claps his hands. “All the better. My lawyers will be here first thing in the morning to draw up a makeshift lease of sorts—anything to let you know that your security isn’t contingent on any relationship with us. But if you leave crumbs on my carpet, kid, I’ll throw you to the wolves I swear to—kidding! Jesus, Buck, don’t slap me with the metal hand.”

“I can walk home tomorrow and grab my stuff,” Peter says, mind far away in the tiny apartment. All he’ll need is to fill his backpack with the few clothing items that he hasn’t worn to death, the picture of Ned and MJ, May and Ben’s and his parents’ wedding rings, his school books. He could pack up his entire life into one bag, which is both a little sad and a godsend. Peter hates moving.

“Take one of my cars; I have plenty of them.” Tony stands from the table and holds out a hand. When Peter takes it, it’s warm and calloused. They shake, but it isn’t enough, no amount of gratitude can be poured from palm to palm. Peter rounds the table and wraps his arms around the man’s waist, smelling cologne and sharp alcohol, feeling Tony arms carefully come down around him. When the man speaks, it rumbles through Peter’s own body. “Lovely doing business with you, Mr. Parker. Saturday is for chores and Sunday is funday.”

“I’m really good at doing dishes,” Peter grins.

“That’s what the dishwasher is for, kid. Unless you’re Bucky who likes to do them by hand.” They pull away and Tony smiles down at him, and Peter thinks that maybe things are actually getting better. Maybe all those prayers he made finally reached up through the clouds and were heard and answered. Maybe he’s suffered enough, and the universe is finally giving him some good karma. “You know,” Tony says. He winks at Bucky. “I think this business deal could absolutely be sealed by a kiss—”

“Tony,” Bucky sighs.

“Good idea,” Peter says brightly. He shifts up onto his toes, letting his eyes fall shut as he presses a chaste kiss to Tony’s mouth—

What he wasn’t expecting was for Mr. Stark to pull away the way he does, to turn his head so that the kiss falls on his whiskered cheek. When Peter blinks up at him, he can’t understand the shocked, no, the horrified expression on the older man’s face.

“Kid—I meant you and Bucky,” Tony says. “This thing—between you two? I’m not included.”

#winterironspider #unedited lmao #as always #cagewrites #helping hands

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