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monstersandmaw · 1 year

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Male drider pirate captain x gn human (mild nsfw)

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

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Surprise! A story out of the blue! Hope you like it.

Content: a human who faces daily discrimination for being one of the only humans in a relatively isolated society of non-humans, non-explicit/detailed mention of unwanted sexual/physical contact (it’s brief, but it’s in there - paragraph beginning ‘Still, they couldn’t be any worse than the naga...’), a reader who was orphaned at a young age, a dread pirate captain who’s actually a total softie, a motley crew of pirates who are also all secret sweethearts, and a tiefling friend who wants the best for you. And a briefly spicy ending. Enjoy? Wordcount: 8710

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For all its pretty beaches and steady flow of gold and goods, Cutthroat Cove was hardly the kind of place that people aspired to reach, and it wasn’t the kind of place people lingered once they washed up there, humans least of all.

To get off the island, you had to find a pirate ship willing to take you, and the price of passage was usually dearer than it first appeared. Most of the crews didn’t like humans aboard either, which was another odd stacked against you.

“To the Empress!” A shout went up from the furthest corner of the dingy tavern, and tankards were raised in a jeering chorus of howls and inhuman noises. You glanced up from where you’d been drying off the wooden mugs that Harrow had just finished washing, and you watched as the crew of the Blackbird, flush with fresh plunder, began a familiar toast. “May she continue shitting out shiny gold coins for us to keep plucking out of her fat little merchants’ hands!”

Their laughter filled the small, low-ceilinged common room and made your ears buzz. There must have been a siren among them, you thought distantly as you shook your head to clear it. No one else seemed affected, but a nearby patron — a triton leaning heavily on the wooden bar — leered toothily at you and flared the fins on the side of their head in a mocking sneer.

As you turned away to diffuse the situation, your elbow caught a bottle of rum on the edge of the counter. It teetered and would have smashed had Harrow not grabbed it with his prehensile tail and shunted it back to safety. He shot you a warning look and rolled his dark eyes affectionately. A creased dimple appeared in his cheek and the tiefling smirked a fanged smile at you before throwing a wet dishcloth in your face. “Watch it, clumsy,” he snorted playfully. “Honestly. What are you like?”

“Thanks,” you mumbled and tried not to watch too closely as his purple tail uncoiled slowly from the bottle. Perhaps it came from being raised on a mostly non-human pirate ship, or perhaps you’d just been made differently, but your fellow humans had never done much for you, and in fact, the less human someone looked, the more likely you were to find yourself tripping over your feet around them.

With another sigh, you turned to see to a goblin with blood red hair who had just leaned over the bar to yell an order at you above the clamour in the room, a gold ring glinting in her nose, when the door flew open and a small harpy boy flapped inside, with his feathers all ruffled and his chest heaving from a wild flight up the hill to the tavern.

“The Widow’s Web docked down on Rum Quay fifteen minutes ago!” the boy panted, wide eyed and sweaty faced. “And they’re coming ashore!”

For a moment, the entire, packed tavern went completely still. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath. Someone set down their tankard with a loud clunk but for a good ten seconds, that was the only sound in the whole room.

“The Widow’s Web?” someone finally hissed. “She never docks anywhere. What the fuck is she doing here?”

“Maybe they need to resupply?”

“They don’t resupply ashore,” someone else scoffed. “They just take what they need off the Imperial Navy and keep on sailing!”

“Maybe one of them is sick?”

“Or they’re looking for new crew?”

“I heard the captain wraps people up in his webs to eat later…” came a nearby, dark muttering.

“Or maybe —”

“— Maybe they just want a good drink for once, and find Her Imperial Majesty’s rations perennially disappointing,” came a deep, smooth voice from the open doorway behind the harpy boy.

The poor lad squeaked and puffed up in surprise, floundering out of the doorway in a twittering spray of mousy feathers and gangly, avian legs, and everyone stared at the figure who had melted from the darkness beyond to fill the doorway completely.

It was impossible not to stare. You’d seen driders before, but you’d never seen one like him.

He moved on seven dark legs that were armoured with a natural carapace like a crab, with pointed spikes at the joints that glinted in the low light, and the eighth was a prosthetic, replaced below the articulated ‘knee’ joint of his right front leg with a shining, steel limb that had been sharpened to a point to match his other limbs, and which clinked softly when he walked. He had to duck almost double to squeeze through the tavern door that had been built wide and tall enough for even a draft centaur to get through.

As he leaned down, his straight, white hair fell forwards around his face like a shroud, momentarily concealing his slate-grey skin that was tinged with purple. He had four eyes, all completely black, and dark mandibles at the corners of his mouth, and as he entered the tavern, he took off his cocked hat and hooked it casually over the upward turning spikes on his left foreleg.

His spider’s body was huge and pendulous and black, covered in a downy fur that shifted like moonlight and spread up his human back, vanishing out of sight beneath a heavy, black coat with silver buttons and emblazoned on the back with the silver web of his ship’s emblem, the Widow’s Web.

Someone dropped a glass in the silence of his arrival, and you startled a little at the sound. Beside you, you heard Harrow inhale slowly. “Holy shit,” he hissed, and his dark, cloven hooves made a soft clopping against the flagstones as he sidled up to you. He was shorter than you, and you glanced down to find him looking up at you with wide, worried eyes. “That’s… That’s him…”

“Capitan Steelsling…” you whispered. “I thought he and the Widow’s Web were just… a myth? You know?” you added, glancing between Harrow and the pirate captain.

Behind Steelsling, a truly colossal, silk-white bison minotaur dipped her horns beneath the lintel and surveyed the room. She had red eyes and a pink nose, and was almost as legendary as her captain, and together, they made their way towards an empty table near the bar.

“Good luck, mate!” Harrow elbowed you in the ribs and ducked away with a mumbled lie about checking the stock.

You could hardly hear anything through the fear that had started a pounding at the back of your skull. You were going to have to go over there.

Still, they couldn’t be any worse than the naga who’d grabbed you with their tail and coiled around you tightly enough to make your ribs creak last week, only releasing you when the laughter of their companions had faded and you’d nearly passed out. Or the gnoll who’d tripped you into her lap and laughed about you being a soft little human while her claws had picked through your shirt. Or the siren who’d made you take your top off and dance a jig on the table with their hypnotic voice, to the rabid amusement of a packed bar. You’d endured a thousand humiliations in your life at Cutthroat Cove, and you were certain that you could weather whatever this dread pirate could dream up for you too.

Squaring your shoulders, you set the damp cloth down on the bar, wiped your hands on your trousers, and strode across the room towards the newcomers, with the eyes of the entire tavern on you.

The captain watched you approach with an unnerving intensity in his four, jet black eyes, but his minotaur first mate seemed entirely bored and unimpressed by the entire establishment. You included. Clearly you posed no threat to her or her captain, so she ignored you for the time being.

You drew to a halt in front of their table and looked up into the captain’s inhuman face. He was sharply handsome, with the hard, cut-glass plains of his cheeks and jawline thrown into start relief in the low light of the bar, and the thick, black, curved talons at the ends of his mandibles glinted in the lamplight like pieces of obsidian.

He tilted his head in a manner that might have been either patronising or curious, you couldn’t quite tell, and blinked his black, almond-shaped eyes slowly. The two pairs moved slightly out of time with each other, the smaller, lower outer pair starting first, followed by the larger inner pair. Holding his gaze for long though was like trying to hold an oil slick in your hands.

“What can I get for you?” you asked, cursing the way your voice cracked a little.

Conversation began to pick up hesitantly around you, and in the far corner, someone got out a tin whistle and began to play a well-known and popular song. The captain smiled when he heard it, his mandibles chittering briefly, and he leaned over to his first mate and grinned, “Remember when Keel played this and Harrik fell overboard trying to impress him?”

She snorted suddenly, her wild, white mane of curls bouncing and her large, fluffy ears flicking back and forth. “How could I forget that?” she chortled. “He looked like a wet rat when we hauled him back on deck. Couldn’t look Keel in the eye for a week!”

You stood stock-still while they reminisced, wary and patient and silent.

The captain turned sharply back to you and twitched his head a little. “My apologies,” he purred. “We are still waiting for a few more of our crew, but I know what they’ll have to drink at any rate. Perhaps you could bring a couple of pitchers of your finest ale over, and six tankards?”

You nodded and paused just long enough to see if they were going to add anything else to their order.

The first mate leaned forwards towards you, resting an elbow on the thick tabletop. It groaned under her muscular weight. “What’s in the kitchen tonight?” she asked. Her voice was rough and deep, but her tone was gentle enough.

“Roast pork,” you said quickly. “And boiled vegetables.”

The captain nodded. “We’ll wait for the others to order food, I think. If that’s alright with you?”

You blinked. “What?” you said before you’d thought about it. “I mean, of course. I’ll be right back with the ale. Excuse me.”

And with that, you bolted back to the bar, sweaty and a little shaky. They hadn’t been at all what you’d been expecting, and they weren’t like the usual patrons of the Salted Kipper.

Harrow had emerged by the time you returned, and he shot you a look. “Well?” he asked.

“Well what?” you snapped, distracted.

“Well what’s he like? I heard from Maggie that Steelsling ripped a human’s head clean off their shoulders just for looking at him too long, and one time, he used that legendary ‘steel’ web of his to garrote the commander of Port Liberty, but the thread was so fine the man didn’t know it had happened til he was bleeding out on the marble floor. And his first mate is hardly any better. I heard —”

“You shouldn’t listen to what people say,” you said with a frown as you fished the enormous pitchers out of the cupboard under the bar and turned to fill one from the barrel on the wall behind you. “You know how much bullshit gets peddled through here in a single night — how much sailors love to exaggerate.” In truth, you didn’t want Steelsling to overhear Harrow’s words and think you were gossiping about him.

“Yeah, but… no smoke without a fire, right?”

You just shook your head and concentrated on filling the pitcher without creating too much of a foaming head on the ale.

With the two pitchers set on a wide, wooden tray, along with the six empty tankards, you set off for their table again. En route, someone with sharp claws grabbed a fistful of your arse and you had to step over the swaying, serrated tail of a lizardfolk at the table next to the drider captain’s. She cackled a laugh at you when you nearly spilled the pitchers because of it. One slid a terrifying couple of inches along the tray as it tipped, and you wobbled in a desperate attempt to stop it sliding all the way off.

You cursed as you staggered, completely off balance, but something solid caught you at the hip and buttressed you up. Cold relief sloshed through you as you saved the pitchers from toppling off to make an ungodly mess all over the floor, only to look up and find that the drider captain himself had jutted out one of his huge, armoured legs to steady you. It was the steel prosthetic of his right foreleg, you realised, and you could feel its coldness seeping through your clothes the longer you stayed pressed against it.

All the blood drained from your face and you felt your jaw go slack. “I’m so sorry,” you blurted, and you almost leapt away from the contact to set the tray down, hoping to disappear as quickly as possible.

“It’s no trouble,” he said in his oddly polite, lyrical voice. You’d expected something coarse and harsh from the legendary sea captain, but he was refined and softly-spoken. “Does that happen often?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“Uh…” you swallowed, stepping back with the tray held in front of you a bit like a shield. “I mean… I’m pretty much the only human on the island now, so where else are they going to get their fun, you know?”

You’d said it with a false lightness to your voice, hoping to make him smile and say ‘fair enough’, but his expression darkened and his eyes glittered dangerously.

“It’s fine,” you babbled. “Really. It’s harmless. They’re just blowing off steam, you know?”

That also didn’t help.

He glared around the room and you got the vague impression that the people who had been staring, hoping for an impressed reaction from him, suddenly looked away in shame.

“Excuse me,” you said again, and fled.

The rest of his crew arrived not long after that, and they were an equally odd mix of people: another drider, though she was stocky and built like a tarantula, and her arms and torso were thickly muscled where Steelsling’s body was lean and wiry; a delicate cervitaur who looked about as unlikely to find a home on the sea as the Empress herself, with a white coat and white antlers and a dancing, graceful way of walking that wouldn’t have been out of place in a palace; a rugged, crab-like merfolk who was armoured to the nines in his own orange chitin and had pincers for hands and a sour look on his face as he squeezed his bulky carapace between the tables; a forest naga with a rainbow shimmer to her tail and dreads that fell to her waist; a tiny, waifish, hummingbird harpy whose iridescence matched the naga’s in vibrancy if not in hue; and finally… a human?

Yet again that evening, you tried not to stare, but it was so unusual to find a human among a crew of pirates in these parts that you weren’t the only one taken aback. People hissed and whispered behind their mugs, but no one tried anything with the other human in the room. They saved that for the one they knew was alone and largely unprotected.

As you worked the other tables that night, dodging wayward hands and sneaking trip hazards in a familiar dance, you caught glimpses of the way the crew of the Widow’s Web laughed and joked among themselves. They were clearly close as family, the realisation of which struck you to the core with something akin to genuine, physical pain. The other pirates who frequented the Salted Kipper were business partners and tight-knit groups, but there was always something festering away beneath the surface — some jealousy or scheming distrust — but the Widow’s Web crew touched each other frequently with a friendly nudge or a playful shove, and they laughed. They laughed until they cried and fell about on each other’s shoulders over something and nothing, and even Steelsling himself seemed amused. He kept a little back from the others though, as though he wasn’t quite a part of it, and he kept his four eyes roaming the room every so often too, as though keeping watch for trouble. Wherever he looked, people looked away, uncertain.

Frequently, his glinting gaze landed on you. When that happened, you ducked your head and busied yourself with another task, but you felt the weight of his four eyes on you as you crossed the room all the same.

If the scattered crumbs of gossip were to be believed, which they rarely were, that night was the first time in six years that the Widow’s Web had formally put to shore, and no one expected to see them again for another six at least.

And yet, a month later, the door opened and in strode the hulking form of the first mate, accompanied by her eight-legged captain and a few of their crew.

You served them ale, and he asked you how you were as you set the pitchers down. “Fine, thanks,” you mumbled, head down.

It seemed to irritate him that you were so deferential, and he sighed sharply.

“You?” you added, glancing up as you tacked the question on as an afterthought.

His mandibles twitched in what might have been an arachnid smile and his shoulders dropped a visible inch. “I’m well, thank you. We had a successful couple of encounters on the Whale Road Shore lately.”

“You went all the way to the Whale Road Shore?” you gasped, staring openly at him. “But that’s… that’s at least a two week sail from here, even with the winds in your favour? How did you make it there and back in so little time?” Distances, maps, and charts had always fascinated you, the way a caged bird dreams of open windows.

Across the table, the first mate chuckled, and with a jolt you remembered yourself, and your place, immediately.

“Forgive me,” you said quickly. “I didn’t mean to pry. Enjoy your evening.”

“Wait?” came Steelsling’s soft, rich baritone. He didn’t speak loudly or harshly, but the simple, politely uttered question stopped you in your tracks. “You weren’t prying, and I don't mind. We have a wind witch aboard. Makes things much easier and faster.”

“Oh,” you breathed. A wind witch? Was there no end to this crew’s mystery?

“They’ll be here any minute,” Steelsling said carefully, deliberately, pointedly. “If you want to meet them.”

“Oh, no… thank you,” you said, despite the way your heart ached to meet a real wind witch. It was a particular talent that only humans had, though other species had similar gifts with the weather. It might have been nice to talk to another human after so long. “No, that’s alright. I don’t want to intrude, and I… I should get back to work.”

The captain just nodded, but he didn’t speak to you directly again that night. The human on his crew — the wind witch — did show up a little while later, accompanied by the pretty cervitaur and the fiery-looking orange merfolk, and the crew lost themselves again in their food and drink and conversation. All but one of the crew, you realised after they’d been there an hour. The captain himself was sitting back, resting his humanoid upper body against the wall of the inn, his spider legs tucked up tightly around him, almost like a cage of spiked, black steel with one silver bar, and he had his arms crossed over his chest and a dark glower on his face. You tried not to look at him when you discovered him already watching you, and you traded a week’s worth of floor scrubbing with Harrow to avoid serving their table again.

Month after month, the crew of the Widow’s Web returned to the Salted Kipper, and month after month, the captain watched you.

He watched you dodge the other patrons, sloughing off their insults and jibes and clumsy, pawing attempts to get you into their lap, and each time, his expression grew darker and more severe. He stopped taking part in his table’s merriment, glowering in the corner like a monster from a fairytale while his crew carried on around him. Only his first mate would frown at him and try and get him to engage, but he never did for long. You started to think you’d insulted him by refusing the honour of a conversation with the wind witch, and he was concocting a truly venomous revenge for your rudeness.

Then, after six straight months of visits, they vanished.

No one saw the black and silver sails of the Widow’s Web for months, and gossip about them erupted.

Rumours circulated like gulls on the wind: they’d been sunk by the Empire; they’d been swallowed up by a kraken who’d been hunting Steelsling for years after taking his right leg off; there’d been a mutiny and they’d all killed each other in the process; they’d strayed off the edge of the world; they’d strayed off the edge of the world and then returned with some mysterious illness; the captain had eaten his crew one at a time while stranded in the doldrums… Each theory was more ridiculous than the next, but you came to miss the crew’s polite presence in the corner of the inn. The lowering eyes of the deadliest pirate in the known kingdoms had gone some way to lessening the way you were treated as a human among so many of what the Empire called the ‘monstrous species’ and the ‘beast folk’. Monstrosity was a relative thing, you’d found.

One morning, after preparing the inn for the day, you headed down alone to the harbour to stock up on supplies for the kitchen. The folk who ran the market were used to you, given that you’d been on the island since you’d washed up there at the age of eight, and they’d stopped trying to fleece you on each purchase you made for Silas, who ran the inn.

You’d just added a box of smoked salt into the groaning basket on your arm when a gasp went up from the nearby shoppers and you turned to see what had snagged their attention. The elegant and eerie prow of the Widow’s Web — a series of carved, black spiders crawling up a cylindrical spar — and the furled black sails of the legendary ship as it was towed into port drew the attention of everyone in the harbour-side market.

You’d never seen them outside of the inn, and you watched as the small, efficient crew scuttled around making last-minute preparations to the lines and the sails before docking, and there, leaning his weight casually against the taffrail with his white hair streaming out behind him like a banner, was Captain Steelsling himself. Your mouth went dry at the sight of him and you stared openly, drinking in the contrast between the curve of his dark spider’s body and the angular lines of his slim, armoured legs. They looked like they could puncture the hull of a warship like a harpoon, and his prosthetic caught the sun and flashed blindingly for an instant.

You watched in awe as he left the deck and scuttled up the rigging with enviable ease to talk briefly to the figure tucked away in the crows nest. That done, he fearlessly descended the rigging and joined the others on the main deck. Just as he turned to give an order to someone on his left though, he froze and you looked on with an odd mix of trepidation and delight as he noticed you.

For a long time, he stared at you. Then, finally, he inclined his head and went about the business of making port.

You had intended to be gone from the market by the time the lengthy process of bartering for better docking fees was over, but fate it seemed had other ideas. You were halfway through haggling with the knife-sharpener for a more reasonable price for her services when she looked up and she dropped the small paring knife she’d been using as a prop to try and frighten you into giving in and accepting her price.

“Captain Steelsling…” the skinny naga exclaimed, and then she hissed at you. “Get out of the way, you little bilge-rat. Don’t you know who this is? My apologies, Captain, my apologies. How can I help you?”

“I know who he is,” you said carefully, turning and smiling shyly at him. His dark mandibles hitched up on one side and he crossed his arms. His long, white hair was plaited back off his face in a series of intricate, interlaced designs, cascading down over his trademark black coat with its silver buttons, and he looked so dashing that your heart skipped a beat. His captain’s hat was nowhere to be seen and he carried no visible weapon, but the authority washing off him was enough to make people skirt around him with their eyes averted.

“Good to see you again, and in daylight this time,” he said, and the knife-sharpener sputtered something unintelligible behind you while he ignored her completely. “How are you?”

“Well, thank you,” you replied. “You’ve been gone a long time…”

A sad expression flickered across his face. “Yes,” he sighed, and his posture sagged. “A sad business, but it’s over now. I’m glad to be back. I’ve grown rather fond of a certain inn here in Cutthroat Cove after all.”

“You have?” you asked, astonished. “I thought you only came to the Kipper because your crew like it. You always look so miserable.”

The knife-sharpener gasped audibly at your bluntness and started to titter something about offering him whatever he wanted, free of charge.

“I didn’t come to talk to you, and I sharpen my own blades, thank you,” he snapped at her, and turned to look over his shoulder, away from the market square. “Will you walk with me? I have a hankering to stretch my legs after so long at sea.”

“Uh…” You would expected back at the inn soon, but there was little you could do if the king of pirates himself wanted a moment of your time. “Sure.”

He smiled again, and held out a hand. “Let me take that for you.”

Still a little stunned, you mutely handed the creaking basket to him. He took it like it weighed nothing at all and hooked it over his other arm so that it was in no danger of swinging and accidentally clocking you around the head. He was massive on his stilt-like legs, after all.

You walked in silence for a little way, along the waterfront towards the old Imperial fortress that had been taken over by the Raven Queen - the local pirate power in these waters. She, ultimately, deferred to Steelsling though, as most pirates did. And there you were, trotting along at his needle-like heels while everyone stared.

“Why would you think I’m miserable when I’m at the tavern?” he asked after a while.

“What? Oh… I didn't mean to offend you,” you said quickly. “I’m sorry.”

He sighed at that, and you got the feeling you’d said the wrong thing. Instead of pressing the issue though, he paused at a bend in the fortification walkway and looked directly at you. “Why do you stay here?” he asked.

You frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“If you’re so unhappy here — treated so poorly — why do you stay?”

You scoffed a little laugh and turned to look out at the bright blue sea.

A strong wind was whipping the peaks of the waves to foam and the gulls dipped and soared on the currents, buffeted this way and that and seeming to love every minute of it. Further out, near the cliffs off Needle Point, gannets speared straight down from the clear sky with barely a splash as they disappeared into the waves, chasing the fish that glittered and flashed beneath the surface.

Salt air filled your nose as you inhaled and you shook your head. “Don’t have much choice, I guess. I can’t afford passage on a ship — not at the prices they charge a human — and… I have nowhere else to go anyway.”

“No family?” he asked carefully.

You shook your head. “No. My parents were killed when the Albatross was captured.”

You caught the soft inhale of shock from the drider captain and turned to look up at him. His solid, black eyes were wide and his mandibles had parted to reveal soft, almost human-like lips behind, and a row of sharp, white teeth. The soft, ombré shading of grey that spread up his jaw, fading from almost coal black around his mandibles to a heather grey around his eyes, was almost mesmerising enough to ignore the look of open horror on his face. “Your parents were on the Albatross?” he whispered at last.

You nodded. “My da was the cook. Ma was a gunner.”

His black eyebrows rose at that. “But you survived?”

“Got washed overboard,” you shrugged. “I was eight.” You fought down a tide of sickening memories and rested your forearms on the stone wall of the old fort.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “My first mate, Ellary, led the mutiny against the captain of the Bloodcrest after what he did to the Albatross. She killed him herself.”

“Good.” Somehow, that did bring a bitter kind of consolation, and you managed a smile. “Anyway,” you said. “When I washed up here, Silas took me in as a pot-washer and floor-scrubber at the Salted Kipper. It’s not so bad…” you said, but you didn’t sound convincing, even to your own ears.

Steelsling shot you a flat look. “I’ve seen the way they treat you there,” he growled. “I’d have cut off their hands if they tried to touch me like that.”

“Yeah, well, we can’t all shoot barbed wire out of our bodies, can we?” you said, speaking yet again without thinking first.

Instead of being insulted though, the captain laughed loudly and freely. “I suppose not,” he said when the sound faded naturally, like a retreating wave on the shore. “Listen, there’s an opening on my crew. It’s nothing exciting, but we’re a soul down now, since Tammas had to go back to his family on land, and I’d like to ask you to join us.”

You blinked at him. “Me?”

“Yes.”

“But… Why? I haven’t been at sea since I was eight. I’d be no use to you.”

“I know for a fact you can cook, and I bet you’re just as capable at mending and fixing things. Besides, I think you’d make a good fit in our family.”

Sure, you’d grown pretty handy in a number of areas over the years, but you were hardly a sailor. “You’d do better to ask around the market,” you said, fighting down a wave of anxious pressure in your chest. “I — Thank you, for the offer, but I should get going. They’ll be wondering where I am.”

You turned without another word and walked away before you’d even realised he still had your basket over his arm. Seconds later, he scuttled up behind you, his needle-like legs making scarcely a sound on the stone, save for the single steel pin of his prosthetic, and he darted in front of you, blocking the way with his body. Your breath caught as a moment of panic flared and dissolved almost immediately. He held the basket out to you but didn’t relinquish it once your fingers gripped the handle. “Think about it,” he said. “The Widow stays here for a week, but I shan’t push you.”

And with that, he let go and stepped to one side, and you fled back to the tavern with your heart pounding.

You dropped three tankards that night, tripped over two tails that weren’t even in your way, and nearly landed in a slime’s lap before Harrow pulled you to one side and asked if you were coming down with something.

You shook your head. “No, I’m sorry. I’m just… distracted.”

“What’s going on?”

With a sigh, you told him, and he gawped at you like you’d grown another head when you got to the part about being offered a spot on Steelsling’s crew.

True to his word, Captain Steelsling and his crew stayed away from the tavern until the very last night that the Widow was due to stay in port. When Ellary opened the door and stepped in, the usual hush descended on the common room, and Harrow shot you a look. ‘Do it’ he mouthed at you along the length of the bar, and you sucked in a huge breath for courage and held it til your lungs burned.

When you made no move and looked like you might possibly throw up instead, Harrow marched over to you and poked you right in the centre of your chest, none too gently. “Fucking do it,” he said. “I’m going to miss the hell out of you, but if you don’t take this chance, you’ll never get off this gods-forsaken lump of rock. Plus, he fucking likes you.” When you frowned, Harrow rolled his eyes. “The dread pirate Steelsling, who famously never comes ashore, takes one look at you and comes back here to this shitty tavern once a fucking month for six fucking months, apologises for being away for so long without telling you, threatens to personally skin anyone who lays a hand to you, and —”

“— wait, what?”

“Oh.” Harrow’s dark eyes widened guiltily. “You didn’t know?”

“No, I didn’t know! What the fuck?”

Harrow shifted his weight. “I only learned about it when I overheard Lannicka grousing about how she wanted to teach you a lesson but didn’t want to wake up in a fucking web, dangling off a spar on her own ship…” He cleared his throat and glanced at the floor between his dark goat’s hooves. Behind him, his tail swished back and forth. “Turns out your captain overheard someone a few nights ago down at the docks laughing about getting you to spill ale all down your shirt, and he let it be known that the way people treated you was… ‘unacceptable’…”

“I wondered why people had backed off a bit this week,” you muttered. “I just thought they’d finally had enough fun and got bored with picking on the human.” You wanted to be angry with him for doing it behind your back, but it had made your work noticeably easier.

Harrow looked across the common room and his tapered ears pulled back suddenly, his multiple earrings flashing in the lamplight. “His first mate’s looking at you. She just pointed at you and beckoned you over.”

With a sigh, you turned your back on Harrow and looked at Ellary. She cocked her head to one side in a silent, expectant question.

“Go,” Harrow said. “I’ll miss the fuck out of you, but —”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” you laughed, already taking your apron off. You hugged him and he hugged you back. “Thank you for taking care of me,” you said. “You could have been like everyone else, but you weren’t, and I’ll always love you for that.”

He squeezed you more tightly. “Don’t forget about me, alright?”

“Never,” you promised, and set your apron on the counter top. “And thank Silas for me too,” you said. “He could have turned me away.”

“Still could have treated you better,” Harrow growled, canines showing.

You shrugged. “Doesn’t matter now though, does it?” you said, and grabbed the small bag you'd packed earlier and stowed beneath the bar. “Take care, alright?”

He nodded. “You too.”

When Ellary saw the bag in your hand, she grinned and stood up. Beside her, the delicate cervitaur rose from the soft cushion they’d been seated on — or, more appropriately, draped across like a slightly wilted lily — and flicked an ear at you.

“You’re coming along, then,” Ellary said, clapping you on the shoulder hard enough to send you staggering. You reeled backwards and found yourself righted by the crab-folk merman, who laughed like an open drain.

“I hope your sea-legs are better than that, friend,” he guffawed, snapping his pincers like percussion instruments.

“Last time I used my sea legs, I was eight,” you said, embarrassed. “I’ll be lucky if I’m not throwing up over the sides before we leave port.”

“Ah, Anneke has a potion or concoction for everything, seasickness included. You’ll be fine. Come on,” he said, and he chivvied you out of the tavern amid a forest of astonished gazes from the patrons.

When you reached the harbour, with the small fishing boats gently bobbing and the larger ships creaking and swaying at their stone quays, you had begun to wonder what you’d got yourself into. Ellary had strode along on huge, near-silent hooves, her scarlet coat flapping open to reveal only the thick fur of her pelt and the vaguest impression of her physique underneath, and Macs, the crab-folk — who apparently never shut up unless Ellary threatened to put him in a cook pot — had talked himself hoarse about their plans for the coming weeks’ sailing, while Phlox, the cervitaur, had tittered at almost every joke Macs made. You snorted softly through your nose when you realised that the most fearsome and mythical pirate crew of the era were actually a bunch of kind-hearted dorks.

“Something funny, human?” Macs asked, glancing sidelong at you while you all headed along the stone dock towards the sleeping figure of the Widow’s Web where she rocked quietly in the darkness.

“You know what?” you said, “I was actually afraid of you lot when you first walked into the tavern.”

“Ha!” he barked, and elbowed you in the ribs so hard you actually tripped over your feet at last and went sprawling sideways onto the stones. Or at least, you would have done, had Ellary not anticipated it and grabbed you at the last minute and hauled you up again with her huge hands.

“For fuck’s sake,” she muttered. “Can’t even take you to collect a new crew member without you causing physical harm to someone, Macs,” she said, and then looked at you. “He’s our master gunner, believe it or not.”

You raised your eyebrows and he clacked his pincers together. “Ain’t no one able to make a shot like me, human,” he grinned. “You can bet your unarmoured hide on it.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“I’ll show you, soon as we clear the reef tomorrow,” he said, puffing his chest up enough that Phlox giggled again and he looked mightily pleased with himself.

“I live with a bunch of buffoons,” Ellary said dryly and ushered you up the gangplank ahead of her, probably so that if you tripped, she could catch you before you toppled head-first into the salty, sloshing muck of the harbour at high tide.

A flap of dark wings from the rigging above made you look up once you were aboard, and a black-feathered kenku dropped to the deck. In Ellary’s own voice, using what was clearly a carefully-curated selection of her own words, parroted back at her, they said, “About time you got here. Captain’s gonna start spitting webs in a minute.”

Ellary snorted a laugh and turned to introduce you to the kenku. “This is Specs,” she said, gesturing at the avian creature. “Lookout and navigation.”

“Pleasure,” you said, muttering your own name.

In Macs’ voice this time, Specs cackled, “Nice to have new blood aboard.”

“C’mon. I’ll show you where to put your stuff, and we’ll find our illustrious, brooding captain, shall we?” Ellary sighed.

Knocking on the carved, ebony door of the captain’s quarters a short while later, Ellary didn’t wait to be called in, barging her shoulder against the salt-warped wood and stepping in with the familiar ease of a lifelong friend.

Part of you had expected to find webs slung in the corners and the carcasses of dessicated animals dangling from the ceiling, but of course, it was just a simply but comfortably furnished cabin, with a large desk smothered in charts and navigational instruments. The captain himself was standing behind it, his body little more than a dark silhouette against the large window at the rear of the ship, and his silver hair dangling like a drifting ghost in the light breeze that wafted in with Ellary.

The minotaur shoved you into the room and saluted the captain without a word before leaving, closing the door behind her.

“You… You decided to come?” he faltered, sounding unsure of himself for the first time.

You nodded. “I do have a bone to pick with you though, Captain,” you added and he cocked his head.

“Oh?”

“What’s this I hear about you threatening to flay people on my behalf?”

He did have the good grace to look embarrassed about that, and dropped his onyx gaze to the floor. “I apologise,” he said. “I lost my temper with someone in the docks, and did nothing to stop the spread of the rumour once it started.”

You shrugged. “Figured that was how it had gone.”

“Did Ellary show you your quarters?” he asked, as much to change the subject as to find out the answer.

With a nod, you looked around his cabin. “Nicer than a mouldy mattress in the Kipper’s storeroom,” you said. “When do we sail?”

“With the tide,” he said. “I’d almost abandoned hope you were coming with us.”

“Why did you want me, really?” you asked with narrowed eyes.

He sighed and came around the desk to stand in front of you, his prosthetic making a soft ‘pinging’ noise on the wood as the wickedly sharp tip pulled free with each step. You wondered, not for the first time, how he’d lost the limb, but didn’t ask.

“I warmed to you the moment you spoke to me,” he said simply. “You were afraid, but you still came over, and you were… yourself. The others… they all know my — our— reputation, and that changes how they speak to me, how they act around my crew, but you remained yourself, and I admired that.”

Swallowing, you tried not to choke. Other than Harrow, no one had ever made you feel like you were worth more than a passing moment their time, but here was the most successful pirate captain in the known kingdoms, telling you he thought that who you were was valuable to his crew. To his family.

“Look, you must be tired,” he said, clearly reading your emotions and not wanting to overwhelm you. “Why don’t you settle in for the night? We’ll sail within the hour, but you don’t have to do anything. Of course, you’re welcome wherever you like on the ship, but no one will ask anything of you just yet.”

Blinking through your tears you nodded and choked out a vague ‘thank you’ before vanishing below.

It was three days before you felt like you could contribute anything useful, and, just as he’d promised, no one asked anything of you until then.

After three months as part of the crew, you knew you were never going to set foot on land again willingly, and you understood why they just kept sailing from prize to prize. It was bliss. Even in the worst of the weather, you felt safe. Anneke, the weather witch, kept the most violent of storms from touching the ship, and the crew knew their business, tightening and trimming the rigging and the sails til the ship fairly thrummed with the joy of being at sea.

Ellary, you came to learn over the course of many an evening, had a dry sense of humour that left you breathless before guffawing a great laugh that would have made you self-conscious before, and Macs was just as bad. He was a practical joker, but never in a way that made you feel small or embarrassed. You met the other elusive members of the crew as well — those who had not felt confident or comfortable in coming ashore — and you fell slowly in love with all of them in their own way. Minal, an aqrabuamelu with a scorpion’s body and a human’s torso, was the cheery chef of the ship, and Gráinne, a selkie with a voice like singing glass and a burn scar across her face, was the ship’s quartermaster. Others on the crew included another minotaur named Wilf, a huge but incredibly sweet gnoll with a habit of giggling at the most inappropriate of moments, and a twitchy werefox named Keel who still treated you with suspicion, even after three months.

But above all, you found yourself drawn back to the captain. He stood on the deck with the wind in his hair and a smile on his handsome, inhuman face, and he looked truly relaxed. His strange body absorbed the motion of the sea and the rocking of the ship, and he would just as happily spend the morning dangling from his webs amid the rigging, scouting the horizon with Specs, as on the solid deck below, but oddly enough, when he seemed most happy, he was with you.

He taught you to read the charts properly and to map the course of the sun, to plot the stars and read the ocean currents and the patterns of the birds. He introduced you to the colony of orca merfolk who hunted just off the shore and provided information on the movements of the Imperial navy. He ate with the crew on the deck on warm nights, laughing shyly and encouraging them to play their instruments and dance and sing. Keel was a talented violinist, and Harrik, the gnoll, would always watch him with wide, dark, bashful eyes. It was unbearably sweet.

One night, as you leaned back on your hands and tilted your face to the stars while the others continued their revels, you caught a huge sigh from the captain, and glanced up just as he looked away from you and rose to stalk away towards the stern of the ship.

With a little frown, you noticed the way Ellary shook her head too, and when you met her gaze she rolled her red eyes and said under her breath so that no one else would hear above Keel’s lively gig, “Go after him, for pity’s sake.”

You nodded, and slipped away from the others. Climbing the stairs to the deck above the captain’s quarters, where you weren’t really supposed to be, you found him staring out over the ship’s wake, leaning his forearms on the taffrail and resting his great spider body on the boards of the ship’s deck. He looked small and sad and deflated in a way you’d never known, and it sent a frisson of worry through you.

“Captain?” you asked.

He startled a little despite the noise your boots had made on the stairs, and he twitched around to look at you. His breath caught audibly in the moonlight and you watched him swallow. “Yes?”

“Are you alright, Captain?”

His large eyes turned especially glassy for a second and he looked away. “Yes,” he lied.

“Captain, you —”

“It’s Ruven.”

“What?”

“My name. It’s Ruven.”

“Oh,” you breathed, wondering how you’d gone so long without learning it. Then again, everyone called him ‘captain’ with the same affection they called you ‘human’. “Can I join you, Ruven?”

Slowly, and with an unbearable sadness in his eyes, he looked back over his shoulder at you. He was wearing only an undyed linen shirt, and it flapped loosely around his lean torso in the breeze. It made you want to touch, to draw it up to expose the musculature and chitinous plating underneath, to explore his body with your hands. “Yes,” he said quietly.

You approached on his right side and watched as he drew his long legs in a little closer to his body, as if to welcome you further into his space. You leaned your weight carefully against his steel prosthetic, knowing it could take it, and he let out a shaky breath.

He towered over you but you’d never felt more at ease with someone, and he nestled a little further down to accommodate your height. You smiled at him. “Thank you, Ruven,” you said, trying out his name again and enjoying the sound of it on your tongue.

“For what?”

You shrugged and stared out at the dark sea, a little overwhelmed. Little flashes of phosphorescence danced on the ship’s wake, like a heartbeat in the depths. “For giving me a family again,” you said with a glance back at the crew who were capering about on the deck below. “For making me feel loved.”

“You are loved,” he said without hesitation. He exhaled your name and leaned down to take your fingers in his dark grey hands. “You are loved,” he said again with sincerity burning in his black eyes. “Never doubt that.”

You smiled up at him, and gently tugged one hand free of his, then reached up to cup his sharp face in your palm. “I don’t. Not now.” You ran the pad of your thumb along his right mandible and he shuddered bodily, eyes rolling shut with a rasping breath. “You’re so beautiful,” you whispered.

A second or two later, a large, slow tear rolled from one eye, down his cheek to splash onto the deck between you.

“Ruven?”

“No one has ever said that to me,” he croaked, nudging his cheek further into your palm without opening his eyes again. “Terrible, monstrous, ruthless… but never beautiful.”

“Always beautiful,” you said, and he picked you up.

He held you to his chest, supported by the knees of his forelegs, and hugged you. His hands began to wander and you gasped, arching into his touch.

“Take me below,” you whispered and he smiled. “I’m yours.”

He didn’t linger, scuttling silently down the gangway to his cabin and closing the door behind him.

He laid you down on his large, soft bed and took you apart with slow kisses and lingering touches until you were moaning his name and shaking with a pleasure you never dared dream would be yours.

“Come over me,” you gasped as he kissed you where you were most sensitive, enjoying the taste and feel of you. “Please, I need —”

“Don’t encourage me,” he laughed. “I’m so close, and I’m making such a mess…”

You looked up at that and saw that he was dripping clear fluid from his abdomen onto the floor beside the bed.

“I’ve never made such a mess,” he laughed again.

“Please…”

He shifted his legs, looming over you again, and he rubbed his sensitive core over your legs, enjoying the slide of your bodies together at last. In three strokes, he came undone and cried out, arching his human spine to bring his spider’s body close to you, and he came with a yell in a wave over your lower body, his legs twitching and his body convulsing.

When he was utterly spent, he lay down beside you on his back and you curled up next to his cool, human torso, tracing the lines of chitin plating where his abdomen blended into the soft, moonlight fur of his spider’s body. He twitched occasionally but otherwise lay still and stared at you with his black eyes.

“I love you,” he said, apropos nothing.

You kissed him and let his mandibles rake tenderly over your cheeks while he kissed you back. “I love you too, Captain,” you smiled and he groaned into the kiss. “I love you too.”

Thanks for reading this story, and I hope you’ll consider reblogging it (as well as leaving a like) if you enjoyed it, as that will help others find it.

Take care, and I hope you have a lovely day/night wherever you are, and whenever you read this.

Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

#drider #spider monster #drider boyfriend #monster boyfriend #spider monster boyfriend #exophilia #monster pirate #pirate monster #pirate #pirate romance

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astorytotellyourfriends · 25 days

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Eddie installs the Ring doorbell when Chrissy asks him to.

Well, he says he will when Chrissy asks him. She brings it home one day and waxes poetic about how it'll make her feel safer on the nights he has to work late and she's all alone at home. He kind of thinks it's a waste of money but if it makes Chrissy feel better, then he'll agree to it.

It still takes a little over a week for Eddie to actually install it, and if not for Chrissy reminding him to turn off the breaker for that part of the house, he probably would've gotten electrocuted.

He downright refuses to download the app to his phone, saying it's overkill to have it on both of their phones especially when Chrissy's the one who wanted it in the first place. He's rarely home without her, so what good would it be?

Not to mention Eddie threatens to smash his phone several times a week when Robin starts quadruple texting their group chat, so random notifications from their doorbell would probably result in Eddie having to shell out cash for another brand new phone.

It's a little weird to see himself on the grainy video when Chrissy makes him test it out. She scolds him for giving the camera the finger, but she still gives him a kiss in thanks for doing the thing.

(One kiss is never enough, but that's a whole other story.)

He doesn't really think much of the camera after it's installed. It's not like he rings the doorbell when he comes home, so he doesn't even think about the fact that it's motion activated.

Chrissy also doesn't remind him of that until one morning where he wakes up to Chrissy giggling to herself. She hides her phone screen when he rolls over, sleepy and sort of hungover from his night out with Billy. He tries to pry her phone out of her hand so he can toss it aside and cuddle up with her for another couple hours of sleep, but she refuses to give it up.

"What's so funny?" he asks in a low rumble as he makes himself comfortable curled into her side, his cheek on her shoulder.

"You," she says as she finally shows him her screen.

The timestamp reads just before two in the morning, and the video starts with Eddie trudging up the stairs to their front door. He's a little wobbly but he doesn't trip, though he does lean heavily against the door once he reaches it.

Eddie has zero memory of this. It's sort of like having an out-of-body experience, watching his past self huff and grumble as he pats himself down in search of his keys.

But what Chrissy was giggling about was the fact that the Eddie on video is talking about her the whole time.

"...bet you're all cozy and cute in our bed, lookin' like a goddamn doll while you dream. Soft and pretty and perfect just like the first day I met-- godDAMMIT where are my fuckin' keys Jesus Christ I just fuckin' had them I swear to god-- YES finally okay Chrissy baby I'm coming for youuu!"

Chrissy bursts into giggles again as Eddie groans into her shoulder. He tries to grab her phone but she squeals as she keeps it out of his reach, shrieking his name when he abandons the endeavor and opts for tickling her instead.

He finally relents when she tosses her phone onto the nightstand and grabs both of his hands, twisting around to press Eddie onto his back and pin his arms down against the bed.

"You love me," she teases as she pecks a kiss to the tip of his nose and then his lips. Eddie hums against her mouth and makes a face when she pulls away.

"Can't prove it," he teases right back.

"Yuh-huh. I've got it on video."

"That was clearly doctored. Won't hold up in court."

"No?" Eddie shakes his head and Chrissy hums. "Good thing I've got plenty more evidence, your honor."

Eddie grins. "Is that right?"

"Mhmm."

"What kinda evidence?"

"I'm not telling you!"

"Pretty sure that's a violation of--"

Chrissy rolls her eyes and covers Eddie's mouth with her own again, kissing him harder this time. When she pulls back, Eddie's completely forgotten his argument. She releases her hold on his arms and he takes her face in his hands, chuckling softly when he hears her breath catch.

"I love you," he murmurs, watching as Chrissy's mouth breaks into a wide smile.

"I knew it."

#hellcheer #eddissy #chrissy x eddie #hellcheer headcanons #hellcheer fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fic #just a lil something i was thinking about the other day #disgustingly in love as per usual

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bismuthwisdom · 2 years

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B5 fashion headcanons

When you are so invested in one headcanon that you have to share it with the other characters.

A continuation of this post, but now featuring all of the Big Five!

Gakushuu - Besides the turtleneck hc, he is also one that leans heavily to the business casual style. He doesn't like how his dad is so uptight and traditional with his clothing style, so this one is the best choice considering his future career. Lots of neutrals, no jewellry and all the materials HAVE TO BE SOFT. He has very delicate skin, kay?

He does like to wear beanies tho. You can consider Seo being the one that gets him some cool ones and he actually likes them, what a surprise!

Araki - The grandpa (tm). Like, I can't shake the fact that he is the epitome of vintage fashion. He seeks every opportunity to wear some kind of formal clothing. Very oldschool, most likely wears some pristine hand-me-downs. Also, suspenders!! That fits like a glove to his looks.

If he doesn't wear anything formal, then he is the sweater guy. Has them in all different patterns, most of them are classified as "ugly" by Seo tho and gets a shoe in his face as a result lol. Also, most likely to wear a top hat to a function.

Seo - The guy that tries too hard to act "street". Hoodies, baggy pants, chains and beanies - all from those really exoensive brand stores that just slap their name on and sell it at 500$. Lots of clashin colours too - ever heard of checkerd pants with a neon green shirt? Thats him. Also, I can see him colouring his hair, at least in highlights with those crazy combos as well. Basically, chaos incarnate. The shoes are the most important part tho, most likely collects them too.

Ren - This guy has given me such a headache trying to find a style for him. I basically settled with a more casual look, lots of layers and colours that actually match. You might think it's chaotic, but it somehow works. Wears the most accessories out of any of them, mostly necklaces and rings. Would def get piercings in the future, but never on his face. I can see him being quite conscious of how his face looks, the only thing he would put on in public is eyeliner to accentuate his sharp eyes.

And let's not forget the beloved hc of him wearing glasses, but again, never in public. You shall never see his nerdy side.

Koyama - An interesting guy indeed. First and foremost, he has to tie his hair at least a few times. His style would be the most neutral out of all. While Shuu and Araki tend to go towards formality as well as Ren and Seo going more towards a casual style, he is somewhere in the middle. Blouses or anything that isn't too tight is something he preffers, imagine he likes it having a bit of frills too. Also, I imagine him being a bit conscious about what he buys, like if it's secondhand or done under sustainable circumstances. As much as he likes to brag about memorization, he is genuinely passionate for sciences, esp biology and the environment. His clothing choices are one of the signs for that. People might think he doesn't have much to wear, but he genuinely doesn't buy a whole lot, he even repairs some of it himself.

You can all add on your own hcs btw! Would love to see them. 👀

#assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #assclass #shuuboi #my headcanons

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twinkleimagines · 3 years

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* Don’t be jealous princess*

You and Drew have been dating for over a year now, you had actually gotten together right after Chase and Maddie has. Usually you weren’t the jealous type but when you noticed that your boyfriend spent more time with Your shared friend Maddie than he did with you it had started to bother you.

“ hey chase” you spoke as you saw your friend and coworker from the show OBX’s face pop up on your screen.

“ howdie y/n what’s up?” He responded running his hands through his hair fluffing it out.

“ howdie howdie” you responded smiling down at your phone. “ I was gonna go live later this afternoon on the obx page and I was gonna see if you and Maddie wanted to join me at some point” you responded , flopping down on your sofa.

“ uhm duh” he beamed out.

“ awesome “ you responded nodding your head . “ where is Maddie ?”

“ oh she’s at Drew’s” you sat still for a Monet, your brows furrowing together.

“ huh” you responded, a frown placing on your face. “ that’s funny” you responded. It was really to yourself but Chase heard you.

“ what?” He asked getting curious himself.

“ Drew hasn’t talked to me all day” you responded softly, the expression showing clear on your face.

“ oh” was all chase could say, not really knowing what to say.

“ does it not bother you?”

“ what?”

“ they’re Always together Chase. “ you responded. Chase sighed heavily looking out one of his bedroom windows , thinking how to respond to your statement .

“ well, we’re all so close . The whole group. And they live in the same apartment complex. I’m also always busy so I can’t be around as much. “ you nodded slightly agreeing with him.

“ but” chases interrupted causing you to look back up at the phone. “ Drew could at least tell you he’s with her. If Maddie didn’t tell me and didn’t text me all day that would definitely have me worrying. “

“ I know! I feel like all day I’m fighting for his attention and they’re always together. It use to not bother me but when I’m waiting until the end of the day to hear from Drew just to find out he’s been with her all day is beyond annoying”. Chase nodded sighing heavily. You could tell by what all you were saying was starting to cause a concern for him as well.

“ I’m sorry chase I just-“

“ no no I get it y/n I do” he responded . “ I don’t personally think there is anything going on between the two of them but I would talk with Drew just to clear up and confusion and stuff” he suggested . You both spoke for another 30 minutes before hanging up. You sighed before attempting to call Drew, his phone going straight to voicemail which only angered you. You sighed with frustration as you dialed maddies number, pressing speaker as you waited for her to answer.

“ hey y/n” she responded with her bubbly voice.

“ hey” you responded kind of stern. It was honestly harder than you thought it would be to hide the envious of her being with your boyfriend .

“ what’s up you okay?” She asked , noticing the tone in your voice.

“ yeah” you responded, hardly convincing. “ where’s Drew?” You asked .

“ hold on” she said her tone lowering .

“ here Drew, it’s y/n” she said . You could hear her say in the back ground ‘ I think she’s upset’ before you heard Drew answer.

“ hey princess” he responded. You frowned, you were so happy to hear his voice but you wanted to be with him so bad and you hated how you were feeling jealous over his friendship with Maddie.

“ hey babe” you sighed out. “ what are you doing?”

“ I brought Maddie some of mommas casserole and then we’ve been playing board games. What are you up to princess ?” You rolled your eyes of the image of Drew and Maddie playing board games but quickly shook your head pushing those angered thoughts away.

“ well…. I was waiting on you” you replied softly, messing with the strings on your pajama shorts .

“ waiting on me?” He responded . You scoffed slightly. Of course he’d forget.

“ my OBX live is within the next hour, you were going to come over remember ? “ you exclaimed.

“ ahh… shit princess I’m sorry my phones been dead so I hadn’t even paid attention to the time. I’ll come over” he said moving around.

“ No no it’s okay, you won’t get here in time anyways..” there was a moment of silence between the two of you before Drew spoke up excitedly.

“ you can just add me and Maddie to your live!” He suggested excitedly . You pushed your lips together in frustration, squinting your eyes In anger.

“ yeah sure ok” you responded without much enthusiasm but Drew hadn’t caught on.

“ awesome princess I’ll charge my phone okay I love you “ he said .

“ I love you too” you said before hanging up.

“ ughhh” you groaned before throwing yourself back against your couch.

****

“ okay thanks chase we’re gonna bring Maddie and Drew on next ! “ you said into your phone. You had been on Instagram live with chase for a good 45 minutes , answering wild questions from the fans , waiting for Drew to text you that they were ready to come in the live .

“ okay love you y/n bye guys!” Chase said before ending his side of the chat.

“ okay let’s get Drew and Maddie on” you said quietly before biting your bottom lip as you searched Drew’s name in the view list .

“There they are!” You beamed before clicking Drew’s name .

“ hiiiiii!” Maddie said excitedly waving into the camera. Drew was sitting next to her on her couch, waving into the camera. You could feel the jealously pooling back through but this time you really had to hide it since over 20k people were watching . You had only been 5 minutes into it with Drew and Maddie when you started noticing comments from the views mentioning how it was weird that Drew was with Maddie and not you. You had even seen one comment

‘DREW- why are you not with your GF????’

You watched Madelyns face to see if she would notice the comments too and you could tell she had seeing as her smile went away. The live didn’t last much longer considering most the comments were nothing but shaming Drew and Madelyn for being together and not with you or Chase. It blew your mind since the fans never really pointed it out when it was chase on live with them but when it was you it was like that’s all they could speak on.

***

You were awoken from your nap to the sound of your doorbell ringing, your living room dark as it was night time.

“ coming” you said pulling one of Drews t-shirt down that he had left over at your house.

“ hey princess “ Drew said as you opened the door, a set of flowers. You were honestly very excited to see him, but being annoyed as to how much he’s being leaving your out for Madelyn was over powering your excitement.

“ thanks” you mumbled while grabbing the bouquet of flowers before stepping out of the door way letting him in.

“ I’m sorry I’m sent here for the live but I figured movie night can make up for it “ he said, his tall figure slouching down pecking your cheek.

“ sure” you answered walking towards your kitchen, grabbing a glass of water.

“ comedy? Horror?” Drew questioned following behind you. You sighed as you felt his large hands wrap around your waste, “ romance” he said seductively in your ear. You pushed his hands away stepping away from him.

“ Drew stop” you said walking towards your counter, pushing your hair behind your hair.

“ princess what’s wrong?” He asked, genuinely concerned. You furrowed your eyebrows, almost in anger at the fact he was being so clueless to it all.

“ really drew?” You responded . You really didn’t want to be one of those toxic controlling girlfriends, but you knew if you didn’t bring it to attention it was going to honestly eat you alive.

“Y/n what’s wrong?” He stated straight into his figure up looking at you with confusion.

“ ugh” you scoffed, throwing your hands up. “ isn’t it obvious?” Drew just looked at you dumbfounded and completely lost.

“ I miss my boyfriend “ you stated , leaning back against the counter , looking down at the floor.

“ what? Princess what are you talking about?” He said walking towards you.

“ we’ll drew, we’ve been together for over a year and yet you’re with Madelyn more than you are with me. And it’s becoming like an excessive amount.” You stated, pushing your hair back. He chuckled slightly, shaking his head.

“ are you fucking laughing ?” You scolded pushing yourself up off the counter .

“ yes I am “ he stated crossing his arms as he propped himself against the counter next to you. “ are you jealous?” He replied in a mocking tone, clearly amused. You went to speak but nothing coming out as you didn’t know how to respond.

“ don’t be jealous princess”

You rolled your eyes before brushing past him, purposely brushing your shoulder into his bicep since his figured towered over you. “ whatever Drew don’t take me serious then” you spatted out before flopping down on your couch , pulling your phone out.

“ princess I do take you serious” he said before standing in front of you , looking down at you. “ it’s just you’re so cute when you’re jealous, especially when you have nothing to be jealous about” he replied before grabbing your hands, pulling you up to stand with him. “ all of us are just such close friends, and Madelyn lives below me so we’re just closest to eachother when we need company. There’s nothing going on between us princess you never have to worry about that” you looked over looking around in your kitchen, not wanting to look him in the eyes.

“ I don’t mean to be jealous” you said still not making Eye contact. “ but when my boyfriend is with another girl s day and can’t even call me or text me at all the whole day… kind of hard to not question things. “ he sighed heavily nodding.

“ yeah honestly that was kind of shitty of me. I got lost in time and I had my phone up and - it doesn’t matter. I’ll do better princess. “ he said before leaning down to kiss your lips. You sighed with relief into the kiss, wrapping your arms tightly around his abdomen, pulling his muscular figure against yours. You giggled as he moved his lips from your cheek down to your neck , and then back up again to peck a quick one on the tip of your nose.

“ so” he said , holding your face in his hands. “ comedy, horror, or romance?” He asked again, with a big smirk playing on his face. You shrugged knowing the smile he was giving meant you guys weren’t going to make it through the movie anyways.

“ what ever “ you responded staring at his plump bottom lip, fantasizing about pressing against it once again.

“ whatever” he mocked before leaning down again to kiss you, this time his hands landing on your bottom, giving it a squeeze.

~~~~~~~~

❤️❤️ feed back much appreciated ❤️❤️

#drew starkey #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey imagine #obx #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #obx fiction #obx imagine

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buckybarnesdiaries · 3 years

Text

white wolf: “the show must go on”

first part — second part

third part — fourth part (soon)

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Sam helps Bucky to ask you out for a date and it’s a disaster, but he gets it.

word count: 1'9k.

warnings/tags: none. bucky being so innocent gives me life. + he being so damn cute as always.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

“Have plans with your girl tonight?”

Bucky clicked his tongue, putting down the weight to the holder, not turning to Sam still doing squats and an awkward noise out of breath. His partner couldn't help but raise an eyebrow and giggle while shaking his head, fast enough to steal the soldier's clean towel before he reached it.

“She's not my girl”.

“Not yet, you mean, uh?” He joked then, using the clothing like a whip to hit the metal arm. “But, you have plans or not?”

“Yeah, we have plans”. Bucky admitted eventually, glancing at Sam also stealing his bottle of water. “She invited me to watch a movie”.

It was the innocent and unworried tone of voice from him that made Sam choke, cough, and laugh at once.

“What?”

“Oh, man… Can't believe you're sinful enough to do what we do but too innocent to not see what that means”.

“It means we're gonna watch a movie”.

Bucky was confused at the laughter, trying to understand what he was referring to as he rested his back against the wall and crossed both arms over his chest. Expecting anything else from his wise friend.

“This is the twenty-first century, you ancient. We don't watch movies”.

“What d— What do you mean? You have Netflix, HBO, Prime Video… What's the point?”

Sam was deadpanned, staring in silence at the soldier, not believing what his ears were hearing. “We, guys, don't watch movies with girls, even less when they are the ones inviting us”.

Bucky squinted at him, tilting his head like a lost poppy would do, not being able to read between lines. His partner gasped exasperated, running a hand up and down his face.

“You know, man? Sometimes I feel alone, not having anyone to laugh with about that forties' manners of yours. Should I call Sarah, maybe?”

“Cut the show”. He hissed standing up and passing him away.

“Oh, no, no, no… the show has just started, man, and I have my popcorn ready”.

Bucky had been beating around the bush the whole day, trying to let it out of his mind. Of course, it was something that would happen sooner or later, and —more than of course— he wanted it to happen. The mere fact of thinking about you and him, flesh against flesh, hearing you moaning his name and making you feel good caused him goosebumps and an awkward sensation beneath his black jeans. Suddenly, swallowing saliva turned impossible, biting his lower lip while ringing the intercom of your apartment. Your response didn't last more than a couple of seconds, opening the door downstairs and waiting for him at the entrance of your apartment.

The butterflies fluttered within your bellies when Bucky stepped out of the lift, showing you that charming smile that could make you kill anyone who dared to erase it from his face.

“Trying to get me drunk?” You joked as he raised the bottle of red wine in his left hand.

“Maybe?”

“Missed you today”. You whispered at the soft kiss on your lips and his arm getting wrapped around your lower waist.

“So did I”. He sighed, sounding a little tired, caressing your nose with his.

Yesterday he talked to you about a routine medical check-up the government used to do every six months until he earned his pardon. Four hours of intense exercise to make sure the supersoldier serum was still doing its effect, as he started to feel somewhat tired since he stayed in Wakanda. For Bucky, it was really easy to open up himself with you and talk about his past and some of the things he did. And he didn't complain when you helped him to take off his leather jacket, watching him rubbing his left shoulder.

“I, uh… also was this morning with Sam. Training”. He told you, following you to your kitchen to find a couple of glasses. Turning at him, you couldn't help but raise an incredulous eyebrow. “Don't look at me like that… I know to perfection what you're thinking”.

“You're a telepath now?”

“God, no. I have enough with the voices inside my head, to hear someone's else”. He chuckled resting against the fridge. “But you're very expressive and I was trained to read body language”.

“So, what am' thinking?” You asked driven by curiosity, entertained on opening the bottle of wine.

“Look at this guy… He looks hotter than a barbecue”.

You broke into a loud laugh, shaking your head as you grabbed the drink and the glasses. “Not even close, Sergeant”.

“Liar”. He blurted into your face, passing him away to the living room where the Thai takeaway was waiting for the two of you.

“I'm not lying! You're a lousy body reader”.

“So… you can do it better, uh?”

“Didn't say so, but… yeah”. You replied, placing the wine and the glasses on the coffee table next to the big green sofa.

“Okay, go ahead. What am 'thinking, genius?”

Standing in front of him, some inches away, you squinted at his eyes in advance of touring his posture from top to bottom with your orbs.

“Look at that girl… she's hotter than a volcano”.

“Not even closer, soldier”. Bucky repeated your words, kissing his teeth and causing you to laugh again.

“Liar”.

The night went on, enjoying your dinner and watching the first part of Scary Movie. Since Bucky told you that he loved the horror genre, you thought that it'd be a good start. As you finished the Thai dishes, you two cuddled on your sofa, and it felt nice to be embraced by his muscly arms and had your head rested on his shoulder. He had never been that happier before, imagining for a moment —staring at you by the corner of his eyes— that he wasn't a retired lethal assassin controlled by a bunch of psychos, just a guy watching a movie with his girl.

For some reason that increased his pulse, having to clear his throat as the thought dried it. You couldn't let it go, wrinkling your nose with curiosity, raising your face slightly at Bucky trying to focus on the movie, and pretending everything was going okay.

“What?” He murmured about to laugh nervously, putting his head back a couple of inches to look better at you.

“Seems like you're gonna have a heart attack, what's the matter?”

The soldier breathed heavily through his nostril, expelling all the air in a sight through his parted lips. A lower giggle escaped them as your eyes widened a little more interested in his response to your question.

“Sam… Sam said something this morning”.

There it was. Your grimace turned skeptical, sitting up to borrow the control remote and pause the movie. Turning to face him and placing an arm on the headrest, you puckered your lips in a funny gesture watching him click his tongue.

“Things are different nowadays and… y'know, we used to watch movies”.

“And that's what we're doing”.

“Yeah, but… it's like… now there are some kinds of non-speak social rules”.

You knew exactly what he was referring to and seeing him somewhat troubled and tense just made your heart melt. It wasn't that he was scared, but it almost felt like.

“Is it your first time since the forties?” You dared to ask, clearly with no intentions of making fun of him.

“I've never really… y'know, I was in my twenties when I left Brooklyn. I me— mean, 'm not stupid, okay? I've done things but not… sex like… to the whole point”. Bucky didn't have his eyes on you when he made that confession, rubbing the bridge of his nose by inertia as his nervousness increased. “And now everything… is pretty different”.

“It doesn't have to”. You just replied, stretching a hand to his right one to intertwine your fingers. “Listen, Buck… We don't have to, okay? We don't have to do anything if you're not ready. We can watch the movie and then… you can go, or you can stay to sleep with me”.

“I'd like that”.

“Leave?”

“Yeah, totally, if you excuse me, ma'am… I gotta leave” He clearly joked, about to stand up until you pushed him down to the sofa bursting in laughter. “Nah, I, uh… I mean, I'd like to sleep with you tonight”.

“I'd like too, and to wake up tomorrow morning with you”.

“Yeah, would be very awkward if you go to sleep with me and wake up with another guy in your bed”.

Bucky smirked at you, biting his upper lip before leaning to press both on yours. He couldn't believe you were being so comprehensive with him, not making any other uncomfortable questions, nor kicking his ass out of your house. At that moment, he realized he was madly in love with you, bringing you closer to himself so he could embrace you tenderly between his arms. And you let him, not wanting anything else than to be with him.

At the moment the movie finished, you both stretched your hands to the ceiling with a yawn opening your mouths. You palmed his thigh to beckoning at him, urging the soldier to follow you as you rubbed your eyes using your knuckles, a little sleepy. Turning off the lights on your way to your room, you changed your clothes for a baggy Iron Maiden's t-shirt, as he stripped himself leaving his clothes on the chair in front of your bed, only wearing a pair of black boxers at the end.

You were about to ask him which side he preferred when the words died on your tongue, glancing at him with his flesh hand over his dark grey shoulder. It was the first time you saw the vibranium arm in all its glory and Bucky gave you the impression of being embarrassed. He'd never stop surprising you with plenty of emotions for things that for you didn't have any importance actually —like the fact of not having two real arms.

“Come here”. You murmured, kneeling on the mattress and palming the other lateral, observing every one of his actions till lying next to him, in the middle of the gloom of your room.

Covering both of you with the sheets and turning on your sides to face each other, Bucky took the initiative of wrapping you close to his chest, as he placed his head on your pillow. He couldn't help but take a soft breath from your heavenly smell impregnated in, provoking a smile to grow on your lips. Surrounding his neck with your arms, you sunk your fingers in his short hair, gently caressing his scalp while you started to spread tender short kisses all around his face.

“This feels good”. He purred with such a pleased tone of voice, closing his eyes as he adventured his warm hand under your shirt to draw invisible patterns on your back.

“So good”. You affirmed, peppering his cheek with a bunch of noisy smooches.

Bucky squeezed you between his grip, hiding his face into the gap of your shoulder and neck, causing you goosebumps because of his exhalation against your skin. He was comfortable being that close, with no distance separating your chests and your legs intertwined in a bundle. You saw how relaxed he was when he pulled his head back to the pillow, noses touching and his eyelids closed.

“Good night, Buck”. You whispered, still feeling his caresses on your back, leaning to kiss him one last time.

“Good night, doll”.

a / n: i hope you have enjoyed the fluffiness of these three chapters because the fourth is gonna be... chaotic.

feedback is appreciated, please, leave a comment to let me know if you liked it.

and support writers with a REBLOG!!! 🤍

tag list: @whatrambles @phoenixhalliwell @homesicam @marvel-diaries @amelia-song-pond @heartbeats-wildly @met4no1a @weenersoldierr @petlaufeyson @sillygamingartghost @wildflowergubler @isnt-it-loverly @zealouspursecowboydeputy @rvgrsbrns @artisancowbells @plagooey @tinylumpiaa @hemsbucky @bxmaaa @quxxnxfhxll @soldierstucky @knowyourworth-sellyoursoul @hateinthemorning @asemistablehundredyearoldman @purpleelfwizard @twinerd14 @nikkixostan @stolenxkissess @wintersfilm @whoreforsamwilson @thatcrackheadsadbitchtm @baconmuffins1216 @28cnn @hxlyhoax @lieswithoutfairytales @angrybirdxx @clownerlyluv @kait-is-always-late @marvel-ousnesss @natashadeservedbetter @ebxny27 @fanofalltheficsx @spider-man-lover @masterlists101 @lewd-alien @warm-sensations @stealapizzamyheart @talk-on-the-street @theresnoplatypus

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan fluff

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glimmerglanger · 3 years

Note

Soooo…….HotR Codywan proposal snippet if you’re still taking requests? I feel like they’d be absolute saps about it and I am Soft

OOOOOH! Oh! They're going to be SUCH saps, fair warning! Let's have some family time and sweetness and a proposal on this fine Friday morning! (No spice in this snippet, only SWEET).

~~~~~~~

Autumn slipped away, eventually, and Cody wasn’t sorry to see it go. Ben’s civil case wrapped up towards the end of the season, leaving him with enough funds to cover the memorial costs for his uncle and some extra, besides.

Mostly, he knew Ben put the money towards his school expenses and loans, though he also insisted on paying half when they bought a new bed for Cody’s place, replacing the one they’d broken so impressively.

Winter brought with it true cold, the dropping temperatures no longer teasing at freezing. Often, the sun didn’t rise until long after Cody was already up and working, but he was used to that.

And he had someone warm to curl up with in bed after a long and chilly day, burying his nose against the back of Ben’s neck so many nights.

Ben mostly slept over at the ranch, though he’d kept the apartment. He said, when they discussed it again, that he thought he ought to at the least keep it until the end of the school year. He’d stayed there through most of his work during finals, but….

But, in general, he went to sleep beside Cody and woke up beside Cody. In general, he was there, sharing meals just the two of them or with the rest of the family, going to the triplet’s games, or taking Anakin for walks with Boba.

He was there on New Year’s Eve, watching with a bemused expression as Boba and the triplets helped Jango load fireworks into the back of the four-wheeler.

“Aren’t fireworks...generally a summertime thing?” Ben asked, leaning against the porch as they loaded up box after box.

“New Years is during the summer where I grew up,” Val said, coming down the steps, offering out steaming cups of coffee - decaf, Cody hoped - as she did. “Jango and I were used to New Year's fireworks. So…” She shrugged.

“Do you do this every year?” Ben asked, expression curious, and Cody left them to it, making sure the four-wheeler was appropriately loaded up. He’d handled fireworks the past few years, but Jango wanted to take care of setting them off again, with Rex and Ahsoka volunteering to help with the lighting, so…

So, he ended up sitting beside Ben, huddled out on the porch and wrapped up in a blanket as the four-wheeler set off into one of the nearby fields. “Warm enough?” he asked, feeling the heat radiating from Ben’s body, all along his side.

In fact, it didn’t feel that cold on the porch, not with so many of them sitting so close together. But the air bit, still, cold and crisp, even with the blanket of clouds overhead. There’d been flurries, throughout the day, and they were starting to come down more heavily, drifting through the air, heavy and white.

“Mm, yes,” Ben said, arm curled around him, shifting to make room for Wooley on the step below them. He looked tired - but nearly midnight was late for both of them, early risers by nature and habit - with darkened circles under his eyes.

“We’ll go to sleep, after this,” Cody promised him, and got a smile in return, sweet and fleeting.

“No sleeping yet,” Val said, wading through the pile of them, followed by Bly, who started handing out cups. They didn’t keep champagne flutes or even enough wine glasses. Everyone got what was available, coffee cups, tall glasses, and even a few mason jars, already filled.

Most of them contained sparkling grape juice.

Cody and Ben got champagne, by the smell of it, and Ben raised an eyebrow. “Don’t drink yet,” Cody told him, with a little grin, and Ben huffed a laugh, opening his mouth, only to be cut off by Echo, who stood quickly, holding up a hand.

“Get ready!” Echo shouted, everyone shifting around, vibrating when he started counting backwards from ten.

Cody nudged Ben at one, gesturing to his cup, and they all managed to drink more or less on time as, off in the fields, the first of the fireworks went off with a flash of brilliant color and a crash of sound.

Ben made a sound, both surprised and delighted, and Cody set down his glass, curled an arm around Ben’s shoulders, and pulled him over, kissing him as the first seconds of the new year ticked over, feeling something stretch out, filling up the entirety of the space inside his ribs, realization unfolding not in a flash but in a sweet, inevitable wave.

He stared at Ben, when they pulled apart, Ben turning to watch the fireworks lighting up the night, and knew that he wanted to kiss Ben every New Year’s for the rest of their lives, wanted to sit and watch fireworks with him, hold him after a long day at work, eat breakfast beside him--

“Hey, man, fireworks are that way,” Fives hissed in his ear, at some point, while elbowing him in the ribs, and Cody shoved back at him, but blinked and shook himself, turning his attention to the show up in the sky.

They’d gone all out.

They usually did.

The fireworks echoed out across the fields, the sound held close by the cloud cover. Cody knew, from experience, that there would be cars parked out along the roads leading to the ranch, neighbors and people from further in town, who came out to see the show every year, watching colors chase each other, heralding in another year.

Ponds started the cheer, when the last of the fireworks finished echoing, leaving bright afterimages on the inside of Cody’s eyelids, and they all pushed themselves up, gathering blankets and cups while excitedly talking, half of them cleaning up the porch while the other half of them lit out for the fields, going to help find the firework casings, making sure nothing had landed where it ought not.

Cody ended up standing at the sink, rinsing off glasses that Ben dried, listening in as Echo’s girlfriend - who had never attended before - talked to Ben, her hair pulled back and her cheeks rosy.

He was glad Ben had someone to make conversation with. Cody’s thoughts were buzzing, thrumming along. He felt...not quite distracted. More waiting, with the tension in his gut of anticipation and something larger.

It was snowing in earnest by the time the clean up was finished and Jango, Rex, and Ahsoka returned as conquering heroes, to cheers and applause. The flakes swirled around them when Cody and Ben finally managed to say their good nights, stepping off the porch and heading back to their space.

Cody held Ben’s hand, gloves in the way, both of them leaning together as they crunched across the frozen ground.

Cody made it to his porch before he pulled Ben to a stop, standing there in the softly falling snow and just...looking at him for a moment. Seeing the whole future, spread out around him, feeling - feeling everything, all at once, wild potential just waiting for him to embrace it.

And he’d never been any good at ignoring that feeling, at hesitating once he knew what he wanted. Indecision wasn’t a valuable skill in his career, nor a feeling he’d ever been comfortable with. He exhaled, just looking at Ben for a long moment, lovely and cold and--

Everything he wanted.

“So,” Cody said, tugging on both ends of Ben’s scarf, pulling him in closer, cold noses brushing together when he went on, the words just slipping free, like they were meant to escape his lips, “What would it take to convince you to marry me?”

He was close enough to see Ben blink several times in rapid succession, eyes so clear and so bright, even as Ben asked, “What?”

Cody felt his mouth curve, pulling on the scarf again, stealing a fast kiss as Ben’s hands came up to rest on his sides. “A nice ring?” he asked, thoughts running ahead, wondering what kind of ring Ben might want. Something practical, likely. He wasn’t the ostentatious sort. He kissed Ben again. “A big wedding?” Ben’s hands squeezed, his breath came out in a pant against Cody’s mouth. “A fancy honeymoon?”

“Are you - are you being serious?” Ben asked, voice wavering, and Cody could acknowledge that this was...a bit sudden.

But he knew how he felt. He looked at Ben and saw the future unfurling outwards and wanted it, wanted to make it his, to shape it into being.

He made a rough sound, let go of the scarf to cup Ben’s face, and pulled him into a proper kiss, long and deep. And, when he pulled back, Ben looking dazed, he said, “Yeah, Ben. I’m being serious. What would it take? Tell me, and it’s yours.”

The snow was starting to fall in earnest, thick flakes swirling around them, landing on the copper strands of Ben’s hair and his eyelashes. His cheeks were tinged red from the cold. Maybe from the kiss, but Cody didn’t want to presume.

Not even with Ben swallowing, staring at him without blinking, eyes searching.

Cody wanted to prompt him for an answer, even though it hadn’t been very long, perhaps a heartbeat. Maybe two. And then Ben exhaled shakily and said, voice thick and quiet, “Well. You could ask. Properly.”

Cody groaned, the sound torn from his chest, fingers clenching in Ben’s hair as he rasped, “Will you marry me, Ben?”

He felt Ben shiver, watching his eyes flutter, delightfully, and had a moment to grin - feeling victorious, that same heady kick that came with looking over at the timer during a competition and knowing he had the best time - when Ben murmured, “Yeah, Cody. I will.”

And then Ben was kissing him as the snow swirled around them and the world went on, unnoticed.

#glimmer replies #ask me anything #home (on the range)#the cowboy au #codywan #AND THEY SMOOCH #check your sugar there's a lot of sweetness here

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george-fabian-weasley · 3 years

Text

if we had 5 more minutes — f. w.

Summary: You thought you could save Fred from the rumbles of falling stones; you did your best, only to be in the rumbles with him instead.

Words: 2,160 words

Warnings ⚠ : ANGST, TW: Death, TW: Battle of Hogwarts, TW: war, TW: injuries, Fred died, you died, big Pain™, I strongly suggest tissues and a dozen of comfort chocolates, I cried so you will too, Basically An Emotional Rollercoaster, Read At Your Own Risk

Disclaimer: inspired by Billie Eilish's cover of The End of The World, so... ya'll know this is going to be a painful ride. Buckle up your seatbelts and enjoy. Reblogs and Comments are Highly Appreciated! <3 p/s: reading this with the song at the background really helps with the tear pouring effect ;)

Disclaimer 2.0: i know what yall are thinking... what tf is syaf doing, posting a fic when she’s in a hiatus she just posted yesterday? Also where is mad hatter chap 5 and epilogue? well, my brain likes to conjure up ideas at very inappropriate times (like rn) so bare with me and uh i’ve been really physically and mentally exhausted from work (retail is bathshit crazy) to write the mad hatter series so idk when will i update the two chapters but i’m working on it! thank you for being patient, and im sorry for causing you guys to wait for so long, ilysm don’t kill me <3

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The end of the world.

The Battle of Hogwarts looked like the end of the world. Curses and spells thrown left to right, different kinds of bodies found at each corner and crook, walls here and there crumbling as down as hope for freedom. And blood.

At that point of time, the pools of blood on the floor look the same; pureblood or not. Because they bleed the same anguish red.

You didn't need to see the apocalypse of the world anymore. Screw the end of Mother Earth; this battle in front of your eyes was more than enough — sadly — to be your end of the world.

“Hey,” You called, causing Fred to turn his head around to your direction, his lips etched up a smile before replying with another hey. You sat next to him, the place where George had sat before he got up and left to speak with Professor Lupin.

Evil is winning, and good is losing. But then again, what difference would it make; if good kills as many as evil? At the end of the world, there is no good and evil alone. There are desperation, madness, and hunger for power, lust for victory brought along with them.

So, at the end of the world, you chose to be side by side with your lover, Fred Weasley. The red-headed dork you’ve taught yourself to pour your love into had become the very source of your life. He is your elixir, he is your soul, heart, and happiness.

It was silent for a while, none of you had anything to say. Yet the silence was comforting, with only the presence of each other as calming as it is. “Y/N,” Fred suddenly turned his head to you, biting his lower lip in contemplation. “Hm?” “Can you just stay at the Burrow?”

You blinked, “What?” Fred sighed, “Can you just stay at the Burrow right now and not join the war? I- I don’t want you to join in-” “Fred-” “I-It’s dangerous and it’s literally a war a-and I don’t want you to get hurt I would- I would rather die than have you hurt-”

“Fred!” You raised your voice, your hand clasping onto his securely, an effort to calm his frenzied thoughts. He stopped rambling and stared at you with those doe eyes you adored so much, “You know I can’t do that.”

“We need everyone on board for this war. I am no exception- bloody hell, even your parents are joining in, Freddie!” You tried to explain slowly, and Fred closed his eyes in denial of defeat.

“I love you,” he suddenly blurted out. He noticed the slight fluster you had, your eyebrows were raised for a millisecond before they furrowed upon a realization, “Wait, why are you saying this now? I-“ “I love you, Y/N,” he repeated himself and you shook your head, realizing what he was doing, “Wait, hold on a minute, no-“

He was saying it in case anything happens.

“Y/N, I love you-” “Don’t you dare say it one more time like you’re not gonna make it, Fred Weasley, I swear to Merlin,” You cut him off, your jaw clenching at his absurdness. “… Aren’t you gonna say it back?” Fred asked, his voice was small.

“I-” You sighed, “No, I won’t because I don’t want to say it right now, given the circumstances,” You paused, your voice quieting down, “It felt like a goodbye when you say it like that.” “Then when will you say it? We’ve been dating for almost a year and you'd never say it before,” He said.

“Really? This is the time to argue about this?” You gave him a pointed look, but your expression softened as you understood the meaning behind his actions. “Look, Freddie, I- You know how I feel about us,” You sighed, looking down at your hands on your lap, “You know I’m not that expressive with my words but- but I’m trying and- okay, let’s make a deal,” Fred’s ears perked up the mention of a deal. "I'm listening," he drawled.

“I’ll say the words when the war is over,” Fred gave you a sour look that clearly said ‘really?’ and it caused you to huff a smile, “Once everything is over, and everything is okay again, I’ll say them as many times as you want me to, okay?” Fred leaned into your touch as you cupped his cheek with your hand, kissing his forehead.

“Even if I made you say it a thousand times?” He asked and you chuckled, your heart warming at his childlike question, “I’ll say it for an hour if you asked me to.”

It happened so fast.

One second you were fighting off the Death Eaters with Percy and Fred, and then the other, you find your body aching at the major pressure from the rocks and debris that used to be Hogwarts’ protective wall from the outside world.

It was dark, and it was dusty, but you were too unconscious to notice. That was until you felt your cheek being patted a few times. As you gained consciousness with a cough or two, you also gained the pending pain spreading all across your whole body. You couldn’t feel your legs, or safe to say your whole lower body part.

Memories of you a few moments ago trying to push Fred away from the rumbles but ended up facing the falling stones head-on with him instead began to flow back into your mind. How foolish could you be to act like a hero, as if you could sacrifice yourself for him to live.

“… Y-Y/N…”

You turned your head with a silent grunt, and your eyes fixate at the body beside you, a few feet away, Fred.

He had blood leaking from his nose and ears, probably from the impact, and his face was dusty with debris from the stones. As he looked at you, he threw you a smile; a weak, hiding the fact that he’s in immense pain kind of smile.

“F-fancy seeing you here,” he grunted with a wince, a smile nevertheless rested on his lips. “Fred…” you could only mutter his name, closing your eyes for a brief second at the growing pain on your thighs. The pressure from the rumbles had slowly increased, and you felt yourself losing consciousness again. Only to be brought back to open your eyes as Fred poked your cheeks a few more times, “Hey, hey, s-stay with me, love.”

“We’ll… We’ll be okay.”

You winced at the trickling sensation on your skin as you tried to move your fingers towards him, “It’s… It’s impossible, Fred…” You voiced out, your voice cracking up. You saw Fred’s lips quivered before he threw you another comforting smile, “Don’t… Don’t say that. We’ll make it… I-I know we will.”

“We… We will?”

Groaning from the injuries on his body as he tried to move closer to you, he nodded, “We will.”

You felt his fingers trying to reach for yours, and you handed him assistance as you hooked your fingers with his. His hand was cold, trembling. But it was Fred’s. And Fred’s hand is always warm.

“It’s… It’s so heavy,” You whimpered in pain, looking at Fred for comfort. All Fred wished to do at the moment was to be strong enough. Strong enough to push off these rumbles pressing onto his body. Strong enough to pull you out from the pain. All he wished for was for you to not be in pain anymore. But he knew he couldn’t do anything. The rumbles were too big, too heavy, and it would take a while for anyone to find them at the bottom of everything.

Fred breathed out heavily through his mouth, slowly finding it difficult to breathe through his nose anymore, trying his best to look strong for you, “Stay with me, love. S-stay with me. Five more minutes. F-five more minutes and they’ll- they’ll save us…”

“Fred…”

“Five more minutes, I promise…”

You saw the desperation in his eyes, trying his best to somehow keep you afloat until you two are saved. You heard muffles from the other side, Percy screaming for Fred and you. His screams were sad and painful to hear; you would’ve cried for him if it wasn’t for the constant high-pitched ringing in your ears.

“Fred, h-hold my hand. P-please,” You whispered, finding no more strength to say anything louder than a whisper. He instantly intertwined your fingers with his, stretching as far as he could to reach you; no matter how screeching the pain in his lower body was.

“Fred,” You called him again. He chuckled a bit, “You’re… you’re saying my name a lot of times right now, darling.” You huffed a smile, the corner of your lips twitched, “… I want to ask you something.”

“… Anything.”

Your eyes met his, even in the darkness, his eyes still managed to look so beautiful. So earthly beautiful. “… Are you happy, Freddie?”

There was something about the way you say it, Fred couldn’t get a touch of what it was but… it felt like a goodbye. As much as Fred hated to admit, he wasn’t holding on much longer either. He was bleeding heavily from everywhere, his wand was out of his reach, and his body was starting to numb. His vision began to blur by itself, hence he blinked his eyes repeatedly. Trying his best to see your features clearly, one last time, if the worst happens.

This is it, he thought. This is the end of my line.

Finding an urge to cry, but didn’t have enough strength to sob, Fred let out a tear or two onto the dusty surface he laid his head on, his eyes closing after the content stare of your beautiful— though bloody and dusty— face. How ironic, he’s slipping away first even though he was the one who said five more minutes.

If only you had five more minutes.

“W-with… With you? Heh, always… “ The whisper coming out from his mouth caused you to narrow your eyes at him. It felt strange, it felt wrong. Was he saying goodbye? Watching Fred close his eyes was alarming, so you gained all your strength to pat his hand a few times, “H-hey, Freddie… Five more minutes. Hang… Hang on for five more minutes, please.”

You squeezed his hand, and he naturally squeezed back, only this time it was weaker than usual. His grip on your hand started to soften, but you tightened yours desperately. The pain all over your body was partially forgotten, your only focus was on keeping Fred breathing and alive, as well as yourself.

“I’m… I’m trying, my love… but I’m sleepy… and tired…” he mumbled, his words became slurred by time. He was on the edge, you realized that. Upon the sad realization, you bit your tongue, trying your best to prepare for the worst. “L-look at me, darling,” Your voice quivered, feeling the sandy surface on your temple as you tried to force your eyes open, to properly look at him, “Look at me.”

You knew it. He was slipping away from your fingers, and you were slipping too. It didn’t matter anymore even if Percy bulldozed his way to you now, it was too late. Simply too late. And that’s none of his faults. It’s none of his and none of yours.

Some things are just meant to be.

You took your other hand and placed it onto his cold, dirty cheek. Caressing his cheekbone gently, you gave him a comforting smile, “Fred.”

He looked at you, a faint smile on his lips. He’s at the end, you acknowledged. You widen your smile to assure him, although the tears escaping your eyes say otherwise, “… You make me happy. You make me so so happy. And I… I love you.”

“I love you, Freddie.”

With a big smile, Fred widened his eyes weakly, letting out a sigh of content as he looked at you with gentle eyes,“… Now that wasn’t so hard, now was it?“

Gentle eyes that soon hollowed empty.

“Yeah,” the dam of your tears broke down, “Took me a long time...” You squeezed his now lifeless hand, trying to find comfort and warmth from him for the last time. You smiled at Fred, whilst tears rolling down your temple slowly as if mourning the passing of your lover for you. You inched closer to him, careful not to graze your injuries, and met your nose with his.

You caressed his cheek, finally feeling yourself lose consciousness. This is it, you thought, I won’t wake up ever again. “You said we’ll be okay,” You whispered weakly, huffing a content smile on your lips. Staring into his eyes that had held so much love and pure unadulterated affection for you all these years, now empty with no trace of life, had sent you into pain more powerful than the injuries present on and in your body.

“I guess we will be, after this.”

“… You spent your last five minutes with me, huh?” You felt yourself going in and out of consciousness, and your vision blurring continuously, “Aren’t you a sappy git,” the mere whisper escaped your mouth with a sigh. The warm smile never left your lips, and the only thing in your mind was how peaceful he looked as of that moment, and you wondered if you’ll ever be in that state of peace, with him.

“No- no- no!” someone was shouting. “No! Fred! no!” And Percy was shaking his brother, and Ron was kneeling beside them with his hand on Y/N’s head, and the pair of lovers stared at each other without seeing, the ghost of their last smile still etched upon their faces.

On our last few drags of air, we agree

I was, and you were

Happy

TAGLIST:

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#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fanfiction #fredweasley #frederick gideon weasley

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crowsmybeloveds · 3 years

Text

Shadow and Bone Series: Chapter Six

Bag of Bones

Pairing: Jesper Fahey x Reader

Summary: Y/N opens up more to Jesper about her past with Pekka Rollins, which has some unforeseen consequences.

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: Past (physical, emotional, sexual) abuse; Drug use; canon typical violence; roofies; Pekka Rollins; the Menagerie

A/N: dear lord there is so much going on in this one idk where to start... but thank you guys again for reading ❤️❤️❤️ also I think there’s one more chapter before the rewrite but don’t quote me on that

Masterlist

When Y/N and Inej arrived at the Slat (after getting muffins, of course), Kaz was there waiting.

“It went well, I suppose?” Kaz looked at them expectantly.

Inej spoke up quickly, “You didn’t tell me she was going to kill him, Kaz.”

Kaz made eye contact with her, and spoke to Y/N. “So, you did it?”

“Of course,” Y/N replied, “I left the other alive. He’ll make sure the message is sent.”

“Good,” Kaz nodded, before pointing upstairs, “Go find Jesper, he’s been annoying me all evening about when you might come back.”

Y/N said no more, going up the stairs to Jesper’s room. When she reached the door, she could feel the nervous energy coming from inside. His light was on, and she could hear a light tapping sound. She knocked on the door.

“Jesper?” She called as she cracked the door open. He was sitting on his cot, anxiously bouncing his foot and fiddling with his pearl-handled revolvers.

He looked up at her, noticeably relaxing when he realized she was okay. He got up and walked over to her, his hands on her shoulders, giving her a once over. He noticed blood on her face, arms, and the back of her head from her brief fight with the man she had left unconscious.

“Oh, darling, what did they do to you?” His voice was sad, worried.

“You should see the other guy,” She joked, a desperate attempt to make him smile. It didn’t work.

“Kaz said you shouldn’t get hurt on this job,” he shook his head. “And it would be ridiculous to worry.”

Y/N shrugged. “I went in too early. It’s my fault.”

“Why would you do that?”

She bit her tongue. Because that man said he took pleasure in conning you, so I took pleasure in killing him. “Rookie mistake, I guess.”

“Okay,” he responded, nodding his head excessively, trying to think through what to do next. Suddenly, he pushed her toward his cot and then moved toward the door. “Um, you sit your pretty self here, and I’m going to go get some bandages.”

Y/N frowned. “You don’t have to —“

He narrowed his eyes on her. “Don’t fight me on this. Stay there.” He brought two fingers to his eyes to make an ‘I’m watching you’ signal, and then he was out the door.

When he came back, he had a few bottles and enough bandages to fix up every member of the Dregs.

“I never took you for a medik, country boy.” She laughed as he sat down next to her.

He shook his head with a small smile. I’d be anything you needed me to be, Y/N. “Let me see your arm.” He lifted up her hand so he could see the back of her upper arm, which was bloody and red. “Saints, what happened?”

“Oh, I killed one of them, as you do,” She took a large breath. His worried eyes and gentle touch made the air heavy enough that she felt like gasping. “And the other one got mad. Pushed me into a brick wall.”

He looked back at her face, jaw clenching. His seriousness made her nervous. Normally, he had a joke even in situations that really didn’t call for one. Now he was way too serious for the situation at hand. What was going on?

He was trying to clear his thoughts, but it was difficult. Even the slightest injury on her made him want to go ballistic, even if she had proved that she could handle herself. Jesper had always loved risk and danger, but he never wanted it to involve her.

Y/N noticed, and it made guilt fill her stomach. She could practically see his mind spinning at a mile a minute, and not in the way it normally did. Normally, the two would be sending jokes back and forth at record speed, now it was still and silent. Both of them felt uneasy and tense.

“Hey,” she placed her hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at her, “I’m okay. Relax.”

He nodded, turning back to her arm and picking up a bottle. “Right. I know. I just don’t like this.” He covered a rag in the liquid and moved it toward her arm. “This is going to sting.”

She hissed as he placed it on the wound. He worked quickly, bandaging her arm and moving to work on the back of her head. This one hurt much more, and tears sprung in her eyes as he worked. He was pulling a piece of rubble from the bricks out of her hair when he heard her whimper.

He flinched at the sound, placing a kiss to the top of her head. “Sorry, petal. I have to keep going.”

He finished with her hair and moved to clean the blood off of her face. They both knew that she could handle doing so on her own, but they didn’t say anything. She got lost in his gray eyes as he worked, and he looked more focused than he ever had in the time she knew him.

When he finished he sat down next to her on the cot, taking a deep breath. “Done.”

She noticed his hands twitching again and placed her hand in his, letting him play with her fingers to relieve his anxiety. He rested his head against the wall, closing his eyes as he breathed heavily, trying to regain his normal pattern. Y/N frowned at him, concerned.

“I’m sorry I made you so worried, Jes.”

“It’s not your fault,” He replied, sighing. “It just makes me nervous when you have to use your Grisha abilities in public. I know it’s dangerous for us out there.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Us?”

“Forget it.”

“No, Jesper, why aren’t you safe? What’s wrong?” Y/N sat up straighter, panicking.

Jesper swallowed. As much as he knew he should lie, he didn’t want to. He trusted her.

But he was worried about how she would react. He knew she wouldn’t have any prejudice against Grisha, seeing as she was one, but his past was always telling him to be ashamed. In all honesty, his powers had always terrified him, ever since he’d been told not to use them. It wasn’t just the strength that he carried when compared to his father, it was the idea that he should be doing something different, or be someone different. Maybe he was meant to be a soldier, like so many of the Grisha around him. What was he doing there, then? Disappointing people and playing card games? He had been hiding his powers from most of the people he knew for so long. Why say something now?

Despite all his anxieties, he told her. “I’m Grisha.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “No.”

He looked back at her. “Yes.”

She sat up straight and smiled. “No way!” She shoved him playfully. “What kind?”

“A Durast.” He replied, feeling less anxious.

“Saints, we are both Fabrikators!” Y/N grabbed him by his shoulders. “That’s sick!”

He smiled back at her, but it was a small one. Even if she approved of him, it didn’t mean she should. He wanted to say that he was like her, able to use his powers despite not going to the Little Palace. Instead, he was just a confused boy who could barely bend a piece of metal.

“I’m not,” He shook his head, thinking, “I can’t really do much of anything.”

“That’s okay. I didn’t really want to learn either.” She told him, leaning forward to force him to look in her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“My dad didn’t want me using my powers,” Jesper spoke, feeling as if his throat was closing in. “My mom, um, she— my mom was,” He couldn’t get the words out and tears were filling his eyes.

“You don’t have to, I get it.” She interrupted, realizing it was a tough topic for him to talk about.

They sat back against the wall, Y/N holding onto Jespers arm and leaning her head on his shoulder. He thought she was too focused on playing with his rings to see the way he was looking down at her. His being a Grisha was something that had messed with him his whole life, but she had been able to calm him down about it in less than thirty minutes. It is getting harder every minute to keep myself from loving her.

Y/N was trying not to focus on the crush that she had on him. She still hadn’t forgotten the date he had gone on not long ago. She didn’t think that he wanted her. He had no reason to. So, she messed around with his rings, pretending she was more interested in the gems on them than the fact that she could feel his eyes on her. Eventually it stopped working, and it became overwhelming.

She sat up quickly and he held himself back from cringing at the loss. “What if we went and got some food, country boy?”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“And?”

Saints, I fucking love her. “They have really good sandwiches at this one place in Little Ravka.”

“Perfect.”

An hour later they sat at a small metal table outside a restaurant in Little Ravka, watching the small boats go through the canal.

“Ok, love, how’s the sandwich?” Jesper asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“It’s really good.”

“Just really good, huh?” He teased. “Not the best sandwich you’ve ever had?”

She shook her head. “No, it is.”

“Liar.”

She looked up at him, rolling her eyes. “It’s good, Jesper. An amazing recommendation! You are truly the best sandwich connoisseur in all of Kerch! Need I praise you further?”

“Maybe just one more?” He smirked, picking his sandwich up again.

“Fuck off.”

They continued to joke as they ate their sandwiches. The anxiety of the night finally started to shed off of them as they enjoyed their meals. It was moments like these where they both felt so content with each other’s presence that their minds couldn’t find a way to ruin it. There wasn’t any dread or feeling that one wasn’t good enough for the other. Just longing glances and stupid jokes. A pair of crushing idiots.

As they walked along the canal on their route home, the sun was rising, and Jesper found himself more focused on the light reflecting on Y/N’s hair than the conversation they were having.

“...I wanted to be one so much.” She sighed, looking at the water. “It would be so much cooler to drown people to death than to drug them. Maybe that’s just me.”

Jesper tried to put together a response from the bits and pieces of her story that he had caught. “I can’t see you as a Tidemaker, although I’d imagine you’d still be your gorgeous self.”

She looked away to make sure he didn’t see the flustered look on her face from his flirting. Saints, does he ever stop? “Or, and I know it’s childish, but I bet, if I was a Squaller, I could figure out how to fly.”

He laughed. “I don’t think anyone has.”

“Well, I’m not just anyone.” She replied with a fake tone of anger in her voice.

His eyes lingered on her face. “No, I suppose you’re not.”

She tried to pretend she didn’t notice, but his flirting was becoming unbearable. How was this the same man who abandoned her for a date less than a week ago?

“Could you imagine if I could fly, though?” She tried to distract herself from her anxiety over him by ranting, as she usually did. “I could get such a good view of everything, and I’m sure Kaz would find a use for it. I could go anywhere, no fees or anything. Who is going to put a toll on the sky?”

Jesper smiled at her. He loved the way she looked when she ranted about something she was passionate about, even if they both knew it was stupid. He didn’t really care. He just wanted her to be happy. Saints, there was a heavy gold music machine in the Slat to prove it.

She kept going, pointing up at the sky to a bird overhead. “I’d be like a bird, just how they always called me.”

Y/N hadn’t meant to dampen the mood with what she had said, but Jesper stiffened at her words anyway. She had been referring to the men at the Emerald Palace. Specifically, Pekka Rollins, who called her a canary. Jesper remembered his words when Inej had first told him about the title. Of course Pekka would give her a creepy nickname. At the time, it had seemed like a joke. Now, seeing how every single aspect of that place had affected her in one way or the other made him feel sick to his stomach. He’d sell his revolvers and never play a hand of cards again if it meant he could go back in time and save her from her past.

“Why did he call you that?” He blurted, not even thinking.

She tilted her head. “Canary?”

A silence washed over them. Panic raised in Jesper’s throat like bile. “I shouldn’t have asked you that. You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry.”

She shushed him. “No, no. It’s fine. It was weird.” She gulped and grabbed his hand, fiddling with his rings as they walked. “Warrants a question or two I think.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, concern in his eyes.

She nodded. “He called me that because I was his song bird. He’d tell me what to do and say I’d repeat it without a second thought. He gave me a song and I sang it.” She sighed, looking out at the water, feeling nervous. It’s just Jesper. He’s not going to treat you any different. “It’s pathetic, but I thought it was like a pet name, you know? Like, he told me he loved me and I was fucking grasping for it. Embarrassing.”

She tried to play it off like it was a joke. One of those stories that was a little bit embarrassing but you knew you’d laugh about it in the future. They both had a habit of reducing things down into something from a comedy, even when it should be a tragedy. When it should be something that would land them in a mental institution for the rest of their days. But because they both used humor as a way to deflect, they saw through each other’s bullshit like it was a piece of glass.

He knew the things she spoke about were hurting her, but she didn’t want to seem like she was weak enough to still be fazed by it. But he was. Pekka told her he loved her. After everything he did to her, he turned around and told her it was love. I’m going to kill him.

He tried not to show his anger in his voice as he spoke up. “He told you he loved you?”

Y/N nodded. “All the time. I don’t believe it now, of course, but at the time it was kind of comforting.”

“What?” His eyes bored into her, holding on to every word she said.

She picked at her fingernails, realizing that she wasn’t going to be able to laugh this one off. The conversation was beginning to feel too vulnerable for her liking, but for the first time, she decided not to run from it. Jesper is there for me. He’s not going to tell anyone, he just wants to know because he cares. “It was comforting, to feel loved. Even if it was…” she took a deep, shaking breath. “...The way it was.”

They had started to turn from the harbor into the city, passing more and more gaudy stands and sinful institutions as they got closer and closer to home in the Barrel.

Jesper had gone silent at Y/N’s last words, and it was killing her. She had thought that he wouldn’t judge her, but maybe she was wrong. Maybe he was trying to figure out how to curse her out for being a whore, or helping the enemy. Maybe, he finally got the information he needed and now she was going to go back to her stark basement.

He hadn’t really been quiet for that long. Maybe a few seconds. But to her, it felt like hours. The sky was getting darker and she felt a familiar fear rise up in her stomach. The fear that she wasn’t keeping good company. The fear that she had trusted the wrong man. Again.

“That’s not,” Jesper breathed his words out, still not fully understanding how to form them. His hands twitched toward his revolvers, longing to shoot something. “That’s not okay, love.”

Her heart dropped. “Sorry?”

“You don’t deserve that.” He said, his voice firm. “That’s not what love is, petal.”

He was trying to help her, show her that he cared, but his tone of voice and the words he used made her cringe. It reminded her of men who loved her because of the things she didn’t know. Men who took a liking to her innocence like it was their favorite ice cream topping. Something that could be taken off, abused, manipulated, indulged in. She got angry at the thought of Jesper treating her the same way. Of course I know that’s not what love is. I’m not a child. “You’ve got to stop doing that.”

“What?”

“Acting like I’m weak all of the time.”

His brows furrowed. “I don’t —“

“Then what is this?” She stopped suddenly, moving into an empty alley and placing a hand on her forehead as she spoke, “The flirting, and the pet names, and the patching up the tiniest scratches like I’m something so precious.”

Jesper threw his hands up in the air. “You are!”

“Why can’t you accept that I am not the perfect girl you think I am, Jes?” Her voice cracked. Most of the anger was gone, replaced with desperation. “I have killed so many people. I have seduced men into ruining their own lives. I am so fucked that I thought I was in love with Pekka fucking Rollins. What about me is untainted? Why are you begging and screaming for me to be so pure when I am obviously not?”

“I don’t understand why this has you upset, dove.” He looked at her with pitiful eyes, reaching toward her.

She pushed his arm away. “You are grasping at my innocence like it is something you require of me. It’s suffocating.”

He still wasn’t sure where this argument stemmed from, but he knew it ran deeper than him. She had an inherent distrust of people ever since he had met her, and he knew her trust of him was too good to be true. It still made his chest hurt.

He tentatively moved to hold her face in his hands. She shuddered at first, but after a few seconds she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, grasping tightly onto his arms.

“I don’t need you to be anything, Y/N.” Jesper softly reassured her. “You’re already everything.”

She opened her eyes and looked into his, looking for some sign of deception or contempt. There was none to be found. His eyes held so much adoration she swore she could faint. She didn’t want this. She wanted more. “You said I don’t deserve whatever Pekka Rollins gave me.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “What do I deserve, then?”

She knew it was childish to ask. To try and force him to admit feelings that she wasn’t even sure he had. But she needed to know. Was he there out of obligation? Pity? Friendship? What was keeping him from leaving her there, and treating her like every other member of the Dregs? She needed the answer, even if it might hurt.

Jesper had always suffered from an excess of energy, but now he felt like he was reaching a boiling point. He wanted to kiss her and hold her and tell her that he wanted her more than anything in the entire world. But she deserved sunshine, candies, luxury, and everything sweet and good in the world. And all he could give her was the miserable life she was living now.

What do I deserve, then? Her words rang through his head and he struggled to contain himself. He took a deep breath, reeling himself in. He had known the answer to her question for a while. “Better, Y/N. You deserve better.”

She backed away, her disappointment rising to the surface. He doesn’t want you. You got the answer you wanted. “I appreciate it.”

She was gone before he could even register her leaving.

Jesper walked up the stairs of the Slat, thinking. His mind was at war with itself. That was your chance to be with her, fucking idiot! One side argued. The other half fought back. She doesn’t want me! Despite the divide there was one thought looming over all of the others. I want to kill Pekka Rollins.

He had been angry with the man ever since Inej had told him about Y/N in the alley months ago, but now it was a pure, hateful rage. She could barely express herself to anyone without feeling attacked and now he saw the reason why. She’d been taught that love was painful and difficult in ways unimaginable. Of course she was struggling to be happy. She had been lied to about everything she’d ever experienced, and everything she did felt wrong because of it.

He hadn’t realized where he was headed until he got there. He wasn’t at his bedroom, a coffee shop, or even a gambling den. He was outside of Kaz Brekker’s office. Would it be ridiculous to go in? To confide in Kaz Brekker? Jesper found that Kaz was his best friend, almost a brother, even if it was silly to look at the Bastard of the Barrel that way. He supposed that was one of the things that brought the crows together: having an attachment to one of the deadliest men they had ever met.

Whether it was stupid or not, Jesper knocked and then pushed himself into the room, itching to rant to Kaz about his conflicting night.

Nearby in Inej’s room, Y/N had flopped herself onto a small cot.

“So basically he doesn’t love me and I’m never going to be happy. The end!” Y/N had just finished recounting the night to her best friend, who sat there with wide eyes. She had kept out the part about her “love” with Pekka Rollins. She doubted she’d ever be able to talk about that with anyone again.

“He said you deserve better!” Inej tried to make her feel better. “Not that he doesn’t love you.”

“But he had the perfect opportunity to say he wanted me and he didn’t go for it.” Y/N put a pillow over her face, her tone whiny and childish.

“But that doesn’t mean —“

“Inej, let me wallow.” She took the pillow off her face, glaring jokingly at her friend. “I need it.”

Inej looked at her, concerned, but with a small amused smile on her face. “It seems like you have had a long night where you killed a man and then went out for muffins and then instead of sleeping you went out for sandwiches with your crush—“

Y/N sat up. “And then he was trying to be nice to me and I got defensive and lashed out at him and then tried to get him to confess his love for me that doesn’t exist.” She stared at the wall. “I know the whole story, Inej, it was like an hour ago.”

“What I’m trying to say is maybe you deserve a nap.”

“To hell with what I deserve!” Y/N sighed. “If I hear that word one more time tonight I could throw up. I mean it.”

“Fine, then you need a good nap.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at Inej, then opted to ignore her. “And you know what the worst part is?”

Inej struggled to hold in a laugh. “No, enlighten me.”

“He is so attractive.” She placed her palms over her eyes, groaning. “Like, the whole gun thing? I can barely stand it.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am!” Y/N replied, shaking her head, eyebrows knitted in anxiety. “The other day I saw him shoot this guy on a horse perfectly right between the eyes, and it was foggy. I almost passed out.”

Inej tilted her head at her friend, now openly giggling, remembering a conversation she had with Jesper a few days prior.

Inej, I swear to all the Saints if she had knocked out one more of those guards I would have married her on the spot. He’d told her, eyes lovesick as they walked back from a job.

Why don’t you tell her that? Inej smiled at him, enjoying seeing her friend so happy about someone. But she saw a wave of anxiety wash over him at her words, and decided not to press further when he shook his head.

Now, she was practically having the same conversation with the girl in question. Inej smirked to herself, thinking. This is getting unbelievable.

Still, she couldn’t tell anyone about any crushes that she may or may not have known about. She responded to Y/N’s fawning. “What is it about you and being attracted to violence? Should I be concerned?”

“Are you being serious?” Y/N asked her, her smile growing and her eyes widening. When Inej shrugged, she continued. “Hmm, let me think.” She placed a hand to her chin, tapping her finger. “Who else in this room has the exact same problem?” She spoke sarcastically, giving an exaggerated shrug.

Inej immediately got flustered. “Y/N, do not —“

“Oh!” Y/N pointed a finger at her friend. “It’s you! You are the woman attracted to the deadliest man in the Barrel! Not me!”

“Saints help me.” Inej put her head in her hands, hiding her embarrassment.

“Oh how the tables have turned!” Y/N smiled, all too happy to be teasing her friend again. “I’m just kidding, Inej. Would a muffin make you feel better?”

“We got muffins like six hours ago.”

“Right,” Y/N looked to the side, thinking. “What should we do, then?”

“I think you should go and talk to Jesper now that you are more clear headed.” Inej advised, always full of good advice. “Maybe this time you won’t yell at him.”

Y/N looked back at her with a doubtful expression. There are so many things I could do instead. She could have gone back out to the harbor, gotten more sandwiches, or muffins, or both, she could take that nap she so desperately needed, or she could lie and say she’s taking a nap and then get some of the jurda she was itching for. So many options that did not include another interaction with Jesper Fahey.

But despite the anxiety their fight gave her and the certainty that he did not love her the way she would like, she still craved his presence. She needed him even more than she needed the jurda she imagined sitting in her desk drawer in her room, waiting for her.

After some more reassurance from Inej, she walked out of the room to go and look for Jesper.

Kaz Brekker found her before she reached the first stair. Correction, Dirtyhands did. He stopped her movements by whipping his cane to block her path, causing her to look up at him.

“My office,” He demanded, turning away to lead her there. “Now.”

His tone of voice sent chills down her spine. She had heard stories of the ruthlessness of Kaz Brekker that had earned him his reputation and (in her opinion) way too many nicknames, but she had never experienced his wrath first hand. Every bone in her body shook as she sat down across from his desk in his office, wondering what she had done to upset him.

She did what she always did when nervous. Talk. “Boss, did I kill the wrong Razorgull, or did I kill him wrong? Either way one of them is dead and they know it’s because of you so —“

“How long have you been in love with Pekka Rollins?” He interrupted her. When she looked up she saw him leaning over his desk that he stood behind, his hands on the table. The way he stood when he was interrogating someone.

The mention of Pekka Rollins’s name caused her to shut her eyes closed and hold back memories. She could get through discussion of the man just fine when she knew it was coming, but when it was thrown upon her, especially in such a threatening manner, it was harder to handle.

After the initial shock of hearing the name, she had something entirely different sending her mind reeling. Did Kaz just ask about her loving Pekka Rollins, or was she dreaming? That was something she kept to herself for the most part. It was something that toyed with her, gave her nightmares, and made her feel like an idiot. She hadn’t told anyone for a reason.

No, she hadn’t told anyone except for Jesper.

Jesper told him. Betrayal and anger surged forward as she blinked tears from her eyes. I told Jesper one of the worst things about me and he ran to tell our boss an hour later.

She didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t. Kaz was less than thrilled.

“You are,” He spoke, “in love with him, correct?”

Her back straightened. “No, boss, I don’t —“

“When do you have the time to go and see him, Y/N?” He asked, and she could practically see darkness traveling behind his eyes. “What information is there to be taken from your position in the Dregs?”

She sat back in her seat, baffled. Was he being serious? At what point did he decide her getting manipulated meant that she was some sort of spy for the Dime Lions? How do you even draw that conclusion?

Y/N took a deep breath and stared up at him, eyes hard. “Do you think for a second that I would betray you like that? That the second my opportunity comes I will run back into the arms of that man and wait for his orders? Whatever that man did to you, I did not do. I never did anything in that place of my own volition but leave. And now you say you can’t trust me because I may be on his side? This is fucking ridiculous!”

“He manipulated you for years,” Kaz snapped, “it would be shocking if you moved on from him this easily.”

“Easily?” She shouted back, standing up from her seat. “I have a thousand words to describe this entire ordeal and not one of them is easy.”

They stood for a moment, considering the things that had been brought up. Kaz didn’t want to believe that she was against him, but he also knew that he had to be careful. He did not mess around with much, but he was never messing around when it came to Pekka Rollins.

“If you don’t have any loyalty to him, then tell me.”

“Tell you what, Kaz?” She was over calling him boss. She wanted him to understand that he was betraying her with every word he said. It was not business to her, it was so personal that she could throw up, and she knew it was personal to him too. He didn’t deserve to feel detached from it. He deserved to hear his name.

“Tell me everything about Pekka Rollins that you know.”

She scoffed. “As if I haven’t already.”

“Oh, did you?” He responded. “I only seem to recall some muddled financial statements and the tears of a naive girl.”

“I was being drugged, Kaz!” She responded. “And, as you so lovingly reminded me, manipulated and lied to!”

“Forgive me for not believing the sob story anymore.” He glared at her. The look that made him into the terror that made even fools cross to the other side of the street as he passed. “Why even stay with the Dregs after you escaped, if not to gather information?”

Y/N was too angry to be afraid.

“There is nowhere to go and nothing to get me there. I have the Dregs, and I have Anais. That’s all.” Y/N was seething and a bad taste in her mouth was forming. Kaz is supposed to be smart, how can he not see that I am on his side? And why the fuck did Jesper tell him about this?

“And who’s to say you don’t also have the Dime Lions in your pocket?” Kaz fought back, “What if you have the gang waiting at the Emerald Palace for you to drop off information about me each week?”

This is getting unbearable.

She scoffed, making sure to look Kaz in the eyes before she spoke, “I owe you, Kaz, and against all good reason I trust you. I want to help you take that bastard down more than anything in the world, but whatever you are trying to find out about Pekka from me is never going to come out. I have told you everything I know about him that could hurt him. I am not holding back for some sort of love that never existed. You think I am plotting against you? That I am in love with Pekka Rollins and I am helping him bring you down? That man does not care who you are. He is so much bigger than you it is unimaginable. I want to help you with whatever you are doing to take that man down but we will not succeed if we do it like this. Right now, if he wanted you dead, you simply would be.” She shrugged, shaking her head. “And furthermore, if I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t realize until your last breath. I could tear you open from the inside with one well placed glass of water.”

Kaz Brekker stood silent. He was not stupid enough to underestimate the girl in front of him. That is why this argument had started in the first place.

She moved toward the door, her voice cracking as she spoke again. “You are not owed my past, Kaz Brekker. Not when I cannot even figure out which parts were real.”

#jesper fahey x reader #jesper fahey x you #jesper fahey fanfic #jesper fahey imagine #jesper fahey #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows x reader

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americasmarauders · 3 years

Text

I Had a Dream--Jason ToddxReader.

Summary: She dreamed about him once. And then he appeared in front of her and she just couldn’t believe it.

words: 9,756

author’s note: so, here it is. the last of this year. this one is special. it’s based on a dream i had with a guy I went to middle school with. I mentioned it on the group chat and @batarella said this sounds like a fic, write it. and so I did. It’s immensely personal. Basically reader is me, the friends I mention are my actual friends and the coversations with the therapist are vaguely based on conversations I had with my own therapist (specially the first one). I hope y’all like it. I had a blast writing it. Special thanks to my best friend Julia and @offendedfishnoises for proofreading it. Also thanks to every one in the group chat who cheared me on and made me finish this monster.

don’t forget to check out my jason playlist here. also. please reblog so more people can see the fic :)

“I just haven’t had the opportunity to be in love, I guess,” she explained, her psychologist writing stuff she had said down.

“Is that so?” the therapist lifted her eyes, her eyebrows shot up in confusion.

“Yeah,” she shrugged.

“‘Cause the way I see it is you’ve never allowed yourself to fall in love,” the therapist commented.

She felt heat coming to her cheeks and tears rise in her eyes. “No, no, that’s not like that,” she whispered, refusing to admit that her psychologist was right.

The therapist let out a small sigh. “Have you had crushes when you were a kid?”

She shook her head. “The boys weren’t that nice and…” she drifted off, thinking of a couple of crushes she might have developed when she was a young teen. “No boys were interested in me.”

“I find that hard to believe, Y/N,” the therapist said. “Let’s think of it this way: were there any boys who picked on you?”

She snorted. “Plenty,” she responded. “I wasn’t exactly popular in middle school,” she shrugged.

“Yes, yes, I remember,” the psychologist said.

“There was one boy that used to run around recess calling me a weird nickname he had for me: peanut.”

“That’s not weird,” the therapist pondered.

“It is when you’re 13 and you love eating packed peanuts in recess,” she countered.

“Well, this boy did you like him?” the therapist asked.

“Yeah, he was nice,” she omitted that she had a crush on him in ninth grade before she left the school and never saw him again. “He was one of the few boys that talked to me without wanting me to help him with his homework or anything.

“I remember one day in eight grade he stopped to talk to me before class but I was kinda rude to him and he never really talked to me again,” she shrugged.

“Why?” the psychologist quizzed.

“I thought he wanted something out of me,” she sniffed, brushing a strand of her hair out of her face. “They all wanted something out of me. It was safe to assume, I guess.”

“You scared the boy away, Y/N,” the therapist said kindly. “I think that boy liked you,” she finished.

“No, no, Todd, he--” she shook her head negatively, “he was kinda popular, I was a nobody. He didn’t like me.”

“He liked you, Y/N.”

That conversation stayed in her head for days. The words of her therapist echoing in her head. You scared the boy away. The truth was: she had scared the boy away. It was heartbreaking to think that she could have had what she wanted, a romance, someone to hold and to be held by. Instead she was alone, an adult who had never even dated anyone for that matter.

It wasn’t just that boy from middle school. It was every boy that ever tried getting too close to her. It would be comical if it wasn’t so tragic. A romantic at heart, completely alone. Thank god she had her friends.

She hadn’t thought about Jason Todd in years. He hadn’t so much as graced her thoughts since she last saw him in ninth grade. Then she dreamt of him. And things started to change.

In her dreams she was his girlfriend. He was loving, he would caress her delicately, look into her eyes lovingly as if he was seeing the whole world in her eyes. He would kiss her tenderly, she could feel his lips when she woke up.

He had gotten so big in her dreams, even more handsome than he was when he was 15. Jason was a lanky and tiny kid, but somehow her brain imagined him tall--very tall--and very muscular. His eyes were green, and not the blue she remembered. He looked beautiful and waking up after the dream, she could feel her heart race.

After she dreamed about him the first time, she dismissed it. It was her brain making weird connections, it made sense: she had talked about her pseudo-love life and about him that week. But after the second dream she knew there was something wrong.

She decided to look him up on the internet. What appeared wasn’t something she liked.

News coverage about how he had died mysteriously. ‘Adopted son of Bruce Wayne dies at age 16.’ She couldn’t help but tear up a bit on those headlines. The most recent ones though reported him being wrongfully declared dead and how he was estranged from his family. It even showed a couple of pictures of him and she was surprised to see her dreams were not very far off.

Other than a couple of tabloid headlines, there was no trace of this guy on the internet. He was almost a ghost story, and she felt her heart beating faster in anxiety. She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity for him.

She otherwise forgot about him--other than the occasional thought about what if that would cross her mind. That is, until she literally stumbled into him.

A part time job to help with the finances, that’s what working in the bookshop was supposed to be. It would help pay tuition and her insurance. Her parents had said that she didn’t need to do it, they could pay and it wouldn’t even make a dent in their bank account. But it wasn’t for them, it was for herself, a sense of achievement.

It was supposed to be just that. No meet cutes, no falling in love in a bookshop, just boring old work. Work for half of the afternoon, close up, get her salary and move on with her life.

The shop was quiet that day. No one had come in to buy or even browse anything. It didn’t really bother her. She occupied herself with other things: homework, studying, drawing, texting her friends, the list was endless. She was so engrossed in her drawing, she didn’t even hear the bell ringing and the door opening.

She heard someone clear their throat and she looked up from her drawing to meet their eyes. She gaped a bit as she met his gaze, intense blue eyes meeting hers. She closed her mouth quickly, trying to cover the fact that she was clearly staring at him. The gods must be really enjoying themselves playing with her life like that. Of course, she thought, of course that he would fucking appear in her life like that: out of nowhere. The one day she had a calm evening and Jason Todd, the guy who was haunting her dreams and thoughts like a ghost, appears.

“May I help you?” she asked, professionally, ignoring her racing heart and the anxiety increasing in the pit of her stomach.

“Yes,” he replied. “I’m lookin’ for the complete H.P. Lovecraft collection. I stopped by the other day and a guy separated it for me,” he explained. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, and she hoped that he hadn’t recognized her.

“Oh,” she said. “Wait a moment, I’ll check if it’s in the back.”

She walked controlled, to mask the fact that she wanted to run out of that place as fast as she could.

She closed the inventory door and leaned her back against it. She breathed heavily, trying to calm herself. It was only a guy, she had talked to plenty of guys before. She calmed herself down, steadying her breathing.

She glanced around the shelves looking for his book. The sooner she ended this the better. She could move on with her life without his face haunting her. She found the book (almost like a brick). She got it and took a deep breath before stepping out of the inventory and calmly walking to the front desk.

He stood there calmly , his eyes glancing around the shop. He had picked another book to buy, something significantly smaller than Lovecraft's collection. She itched to see what it was, before catching herself and stopping her curiosity. She couldn't get attached, even if just a little bit.

"Here," she said, resting the book on the counter. She smiled at him kindly, her hand open for the book resting in his hands. He handed it to her, confusion plastered on his face.

"It's 60 dollars," she stated, calmly and controlled.

He handed her the money. She accepted it and packed his books neatly. He clocked her moves as she did so, she felt a bit uncomfortable under his gaze.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" He asked. "I feel like I know you."

She gulped imperceptibly. So he had recognized her. Goddammit. "I don't think so," she replied, hesitant on whether or not he would see right through her lie.

He hummed. His eyes then shifted down to her name tag, and she knew he had put the pieces together. "Did we go to school together?" He insisted.

She smiled tightly. "I don't know, probably," she shrugged. "I went to a pretty big school, there were a lot of people there," a lie. Gotham Academy was big, but it was nowhere near as big as she made it sound. It was the kind of school where you knew everyone, even if you had never talked to them.

He smiled at her coyly, sensing her awkwardness. Maybe it was just that that made him finally remember her, or maybe not. Either way she did not like that he indeed recognized her fully. "I remember you," he trailed off. "We had English together," he stated.

She pretended to search her memory for him. She couldn't give away that just days before she had dreamed about him yet again. How pathetic, dreaming about a boy from middle school. "Oh yeah," she dragged. "Jason, right?"

"That's me," he whispered. "I thought you had moved."

She smiled, it was cute that he remembered enough of her to know that she didn't stay in Gotham for a couple of years. "I did move," she explained. "I came back for college."

"Why?" He asked, confused by her statement. "Gotham is a shit city, you should've stayed elsewhere."

She tried not to take offense to it. "It has its appeal," she shrugged. "Besides the science program in Gotham U is very good, it was the best move."

Jason smirked. "Science huh?"

"Yeah," she breathed out. She slid the package to him, a sign that she maybe was done talking.

Thank the gods his phone rang. She couldn't handle anymore of that. She averted her attention once more to her drawing, his voice talking angrily on the phone only a background noise to her. "I gotta go," he said and her eyes went back to him. "It was good seeing you, Y/N."

She tried not to notice how her heart picked up the pace at the sound of her name leaving his lips. "You too," she smiled shyly and he left the store, the bell ringing as he closed the door and her mind plagued by the image of him.

If she thought Jason Todd had plagued her mind and dreams before she had seen him at the bookshop, now he was downright living in her head rent free. She just couldn’t get him out of her mind. The dreams about him, the ones where she would be tenderly loved by him, were getting more frequent and more intense. When she woke up, she would still feel his arms around her and an emptiness would settle in her chest.

Why did it have to happen to her? She just wanted to go through life unnoticed, why did the gods have to pull this prank on her?

She huffed as she closed the shop, the sky already dark enough to be considered dangerous to stay out. It was only a couple of blocks to her car, she could get through the walk unscathed, she had done it before.

But then again, it seemed that Fate had it out for her.

She could feel someone following her the moment she had left the shop. The looming presence of a threat made her hyper aware of everything, her heart beating out of her chest. She tried to think of ways to lose the guy--she assumed it was a guy, it usually was--but her mind came blank. She thought in passage if her friends would miss her, who would contact them if she were to die. She shook the thought quickly out of her head and hastened her pace.

But the guy gained on her, and as soon as she could blink, she felt his arm snake around her neck. She gasped for air desperately, clawing at his arm trying to take it off. It was then that she felt a cold metal press against her back. A gun. She felt the tears coming to her eyes. If the guy were to pull the trigger, the best case scenario was she wouldn’t be able to move her limbs anymore. The worst, well, who would tell her friends she had died in a robbery?

“Give me your bag,” the guy--now confirmed for his gruff and raspy voice--whispered in her ear.

“Please, take it,” she begged. “Don’t hurt me.”

She heard the guy scoff as he pressed the gun further on her back. She whimpered. “We’ll see about that,” he said, his voice laced with malice.

It was then she heard a loud bang coming from behind her. She thought the guy had pulled the trigger, and she was ready to feel the wetness of her blood sipping through her clothes. Instead, all she felt was a splash on her shoulder and his grip on her loosening considerably. The guy had fallen to the ground behind her, clutching his shoulder and screaming in pain. She turned around to see him and a pool of his own blood forming beneath him. She was paralyzed in fear of the sight.

“The police’re on their way,” a distorted voice sounded. She looked up and found a massive man, standing menacingly on top of the thieves body. His red helmet glinted in the moon’s glow. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly.

She breathed out. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I--I--,” she teared up again, “I would’ve died. You saved my life.”

“It’s what I do,” he shrugged. “I’ll walk you.”

“How about the…” she pointed towards the guy laying on the floor in pain.

“If he wants to live to see another day, he’ll stay exactly where he is,” he said, his voice serious and threatening.

“Shouldn’t I give the police a statement?” she whispered.

She swore she heard a chuckle of amusement through the voice disruptor he had in his helmet. “I have a video to prove he was tryin’ to rob you, you don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna,” he explained softly. “So, wanna lead the way?”

She looked down at her feet, nervous to look at him. She nodded and started to walk once again towards her car. He walked behind her respectfully, and she felt the difference between him and the robber. He wasn’t trying to get something out of her, and his large physique felt like there was a literal wall following her to her car.

It was a blink till she got to her car. Her hand rested on the door handle and she gave a deep breath, trying desperately to calm herself, trying to remember the breathing exercises her psychologist had taught her. She opened her mouth to say something to the Red Hood, her eyes searching for him next to her.

But he was gone. And what was left was just the memory of him in her mind.

“So how was your week?” her psychologist asked, sitting on her armchair, Y/N sitting cross-legged in front of her.

“Crazy,” she rolled her eyes in disbelief, her mouth quirking in a weird shape. “So much stuff happened.”

“Oh do tell,” the psychologist urged her.

She sighed, thinking where to begin. “Well, you remember the boy I told you about?”

“Yes, Jason wasn’t it?”

“Yep,” she popped. “He showed up at the store the other day.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was, honestly,” she replied breathily. “I didn’t even realize he had come in.”

“No way,” her therapist responded in disbelief. She seemed invested in the pranks the fates were pulling on her patient.

“I was too invested in my drawing, mind you,” she smiled. “It’s been weeks since I’ve done a decent piece of scribble so I was excited.”

“Yes, yes right,” her therapist acknowledged. “And how about Jason? Did you talk to him?”

“Briefly,” she responded. “I was hoping he wouldn’t recognize me, but he did.”

“What did he say?” she quizzed, making notes on her paper.

“He asked if he knew me, which I denied at first,” her psychologist looked at her angrily and she shrugged. “Then he finally placed me and asked what I was doing in Gotham. I answered, said I was in college. He said I should’ve stayed elsewhere ‘cause Gotham apparently sucks.”

“He isn’t wrong,” her therapist pondered.

“He isn’t but I like Gotham,” she shrugged once again.

“Did you get his number?” her therapist quizzed her.

“Nope,” she denied. “He left pretty quickly.”

“Why don’t I believe that?” the psychologist smiled.

“It’s true!” she laughed. “He answered a phone call, got angry at something I didn’t really understand and left pretty quickly.”

The therapist hummed. “You think you’ll see him again?”

“I don’t know,” she sniffed. “He got pretty big books when he appeared, I think it’ll be a while before he needs another.”

“You never know,” she conceded. “What if he does? Do you imagine what you would do?”

“I mean,” she trailed off, “what I want to do is talk to him and maybe ask for his number,” she finished coyly. “What I will do is be very weird and awkward and scare him off.”

“Y/N,” the therapist warned. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I know, I know,” she waved off. “I won’t do it. I’ll try to be friendly.”

“Good. What else happened this week?”

“Almost died,” she swallowed, nervously, “quite literally, I’m afraid.”

“What?”

“Was leaving the store, it was pretty early in the night, I think. And a guy got me by the neck and pressed his gun to my spine,” she recounted quietly. “I thought I would die.”

“But you didn’t,” her therapist comforted her. “What happened after?”

“The Red Hood showed up,” she sniffed. “Shot the guy in the shoulder and then knocked him out.”

“When did that happen?” her therapist’s voice was filled with worry.

“2 days ago,” she replied quietly.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” the psychologist cooed. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” she nodded, her eyes filled with tears that did not dare to spill. “The Red Hood was very gentle, he walked me to my car and made sure I was safe.”

“Uhum,” the therapist hummed, jotting down something. She always wondered what her therapist wrote down about her, but maybe it was for the best that she didn’t know what was written down.

“I did some research on him afterwards,” she diverted the subject out of her. “Turns out he’s very famous for protecting street kids.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah,” she nodded enthusiastically. “There’s a couple of stories going around social media of people who witnessed him, you know…” she trailed off. “He seems to look out for people in poorer neighborhoods. Like Crime Alley. He seems very active there,” she added.

“I didn’t know that,” the psychologist said.

“Yeah, you’d get mistaken by the bat symbol on his chest, but there’s very few reports of him getting involved in Batman-esque adventures.”

Her therapist laughed. “And what might those be?”

“You know,” she shrugged. “Aliens, psycho-clowns, riddles, those kinds of stuff. Although there are a couple of people that said he did have a crazy huge fight with Black Mask once, there doesn’t seem to be any other. If there is, he sure made a good job hiding it.”

“You seem very excited about this Red Hood,” the therapist noted.

“He was nice,” she shrugged once more. “And I’m thankful he does what he does. I wouldn’t be here if he didn’t,” she added quietly. “Literally.”

“Well, then we got to make sure you live your best life after this second chance you got granted.”

As soon as the words ‘what if you see him again’ left her therapist’s mouth, she knew she would see Jason Todd again. Because the Universe was out for her like that. It was only a matter of when.

Turns out ‘when’ was a week later after the first time she saw him. She concluded he was either a hoarder or a very fast reader. She hoped it would be the latter.

This time, she was paying attention. She was organizing the shelves calmly, and as odd as it seemed, that was the best part of her job. It eased her anxiety to know everything was where it was supposed to be.

She jumped at the sound of the bell, her heart beating faster and her mind racing at the worst case scenarios. But it was just him. And she was entirely relieved that it was just Jason. She settled the book that was about to go on the shelf--‘there you go Little Women, back to where you belong’--and got out from behind her hiding spot. “Hey, Jason,” she said and his eyes found hers.

He opened a smile that knocked the air out of her. “Oh hey,” he breathed out.

She swallowed her nerves down. She would make her therapist proud, goddammit. “How can I help you?” she asked, opening a smile she hoped it was charming.

“I finished the books I bought the other day,” he said, his face a tad bit nervous. Did she make him nervous? “Do you have any recommendations?” he finished, his hands shoved in his pockets, shifting his weight slightly.

“It depends what you’re looking for,” she trailed off, returning to behind the shelves. Her fingers trailed lightly over the spine of the books she had just organized. She heard him walk behind her accompanying her to wherever she intended to go. “What are you looking for?” she turned around to see him, and saw him gulp nervously.

“Romance,” he blurted out. “How about a romance?”

“Ummm,” she hummed, her eyes once more trailing over the spines of the books. “A love story or a real romantic type of book? You know with loads of self pity and drama. Or maybe just a very long and nice novel?”

He laughed airly. “Surprise me,” he teased, and it seemed all his nerves were gone.

She smirked. “Okay then.” She pulled a book off the shelf. It wasn’t a big book, it couldn’t be longer than 300 pages. She gave it to him. “Epitaph of a Small Winner,” she said. “A romance, a realist one but nevertheless a romance.”

He grabbed the book, looking tiny in his big hands. His fingers tracing the title delicately. “What is it about?”

“A dead person narrating their life and reflecting upon it,” she shrugged. “A very interesting read indeed, but you’d have to do a bit of research. It’s set in 1880s Brazil.”

“I’m okay with that,” he smiled looking at her. “Any more recs?”

“Not for now,” she smirked. “How else am I going to have you come back if I give all my recommendations at once?”

His smile faltered for a split second before taking permanent residence on his face. “Who’s to say I wouldn’t come back even if you did give me all your recommendations?”

She was left speechless. She felt heat coming up to her cheeks and he looked somewhat proud he left her flustered like that. “Well then, do make sure you come back after you’ve finished.”

“I will, Y/N.”

Jason didn’t know why he went back to the bookshop. He truly didn’t.

He wasn’t expecting to see her working there. He wasn’t expecting to see her at all, actually. He barely even remembered her from his middle school days. He vaguely remembered finding her pretty and he knew she was very smart. Other than that, she was basically a stranger to him. Just like that version of himself was a stranger to him now.

It was a surprise to say the least. She had grown up marvelously, from what he remembered at least. She wore glasses now, and in his opinion it only made her prettier. His breath caught in his throat just remembering the sight of her that first time. His brothers caught up in his behavioral shift, and teased him endlessly. Jason stopped that rather quickly: it’s easy when you’re bigger and more intimidating than them. It also helps that they’re desperately trying to maintain the thin and fragile relationship they had.

Jason wanted to say he hadn’t rushed to finish those books to see her again, but he did. He wanted to say he hadn’t rushed to read her recommendation, but he did. He finished it in a day. He wished he had read it sooner. Somehow he felt like that sometimes, a dead man narrating his own story. At least he was strikingly different from the protagonist. At least he wasn’t an asshole. Not most times anyways.

He went back to the shop the next day, around closing time--he realized they were closing early and he wondered if it had anything to do with the incident Y/N was involved in. He was sure she would be there. Something told him that she would. He got in, as quietly as he could. The store was empty, after all it was a Thursday afternoon. The door made the usual bell sound behind him, and Y/N appeared behind the shelves, her face stony.

“I finished it,” he said with a smile.

She smiled back at him, and his heart did a somersault. “That was fast, it is not an easy read.”

“Well, it was a very good book,” he pointed. “It’s easier when the book’s good.”

“What did you think of it?” she asked curiously.

“It’s very complex,” he began. “You want to believe Brás but he’s just so….”

“Insufferable?”

“Exactly. And he’s a hypocrite too. Which just drives me fucking nuts,” he ran his hands through his hair. “The parallels you can make to the present, though, are just… very daunting,” he added. “It’s impressive the guy wrote this stuff in the nineteenth century and...” he trailed off.

“Society hasn’t changed one bit since then,” she completed him, her eyes glinting. She was smiling pleasantly, and Jason found it confusing, after all they were talking about something entirely serious. “So, you here for another rec?” She changed the subject.

“If you have one, I’d like that,” he said sheepishly.

She smirked. “Let’s see,” she moved to behind the shelves once again, her eyes trailing the books expertely. “How about a nice little love story, huh?”

He shrugged, his heart beating harder in his chest. “Sure, why not.”

She smiled at him and took out a yellowish cover with a dagger drawn across it. The title was written in the middle of the cover in nice flowery letters. “It’s about a girl that has a special power. And she kinda is trained to be an assassin of sorts, and she is set to a quest with a prince that has the same gift as her. Kinda. But you get the gist.”

“Yeah, I do,” he nodded, his fingers trailing slightly over the title.

“It’s an YA novel so be kind to it,” she warned.

“I’ll be.”

They both made their way to the cash register. She was behind the counter when Jason’s phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and answered it without even looking at the caller. “Hello?” he said, trapping his phone between his shoulder and ear, to fish the money for the book out of his pocket.

“Is this Mr. Todd?” the person--a woman--said.

“Yes. Who’s speaking?” he asked. Jason could feel anxiety rising in his body and mind and he tried to push it down. Who the fuck was this person and, most importantly, how the fuck did she get his number?

“I’m Principal Genoise-Beckham, from Gotham Academy,” she explained. What kind of name was Genoise-Beckham? “I’m calling because of your brother Damian. He got into a fight during the end of the school hours and you’re the next on his contacts list.”

Jason sighed, a twinge of anger sounding through it. “So no one’s available?”

“I’m afraid not, Mr.Todd.”

Not even Alfred, and he knew that for a fact because Jason was the last on the contacts list. Bruce wouldn’t put him any higher, because Bruce doesn’t quite trust him. Not anymore. “I won’t have to sit through any meetings right?”

“No, Mr. Wayne already arranged one,” the principal said, tiredly.

“Tell the kid I’ll be there in 20 minutes,” and then he hung up.

She looked at him quizzically, his book neatly packaged in parcel paper with a nice little bow on top of it. “Is everything okay?” she asked, concerned.

“My brother got into a fight at the Academy and now I have to pick him up,” he said grumpily.

“Oh,” her face fell, and Jason felt guilty. “I hope your brother’s okay.”

“The little shit probably is,” he gritted through his teeth. He saw a twinge of sadness go through her expression. “Listen,” he started, “I really wanted to stay, but if I don’t pick him up, it’ll start a whole thing with my family and I…” he didn’t complete but he was sure she understood.

“It’s okay, Jay,” it was the first time she had called him by a nickname, and his heart beated faster at the sound. “I was about to close up anyways.”

“Oh,” he breathed. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, her eyes a bit glossy.

He turned around, his book on his hands, when he heard a small ‘Wait’. Jason turned back to her, she was looking at her feet, maybe embarrassed that she had called him, maybe she just didn’t want him to go. He didn’t want to go either. “Can you give me a ride?” she asked. “I mean, I live pretty close to Gotham Academy, it wouldn’t be too much of a detour.”

His heart picked up the pace, and he fought a smile. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

She smiled at him. “Great,” she replied. “I just need to pick up my things and we can go.”

She was very quick. She turned the lights off of the entire store and returned to the front desk with a small backpack and a few notebooks in hand. She smiled at him. “Lead the way.”

Like the gentleman he was raised to be, he took the notebooks from her hands and led the way, Y/N only a few steps behind him. She fished out a key out of her pocket and locked the front door. She tied a chain around the doorknob in a very specific way that almost seemed like a sailor’s knot. She put a locket in the end of the chain, and dragged a metal door down, then locking it to the ground. It seemed excessive, but it was Gotham, and Jason knew first hand what the city was like.

They walked a few doors down. Jason’s car glistened in the fading sunlight. He was fucking proud of that car. He had fixed everything in it, he knew that machine inside out. He made it what it was, a beautiful and powerful car. It was one of the few things he had done he felt proud of it.

He unlocked the doors with the alarm--yes, a 1962 black Corvette with electronic alarm, he had done that--and he heard a gasp beside him. He turned to see Y/N and her eyes glistened with amazement. “What?” he asked, confused.

“You have a ‘62 Corvette?” she asked, shocked.

“Yeah,” he dragged, still confused.

“I fucking love this car,” she said completely ignoring him and getting closer to the car, analyzing it carefully. “It’s so beautiful.”

“It really is,” he got around it, looking at the street to see if there were any cars coming down. He then opened the door of his car and got in. “Get in,” he smiled at her.

She opened a beaming smile. She opened the door and sat on the passenger seat, her bag resting on her feet, her notebooks now on her lap, she noticed the roof of the car on--the better option for the approaching winter--the head rest he had added, the bright red color of the leather seats, and the original panel, even though she knew he most likely altered everything behind it. She looked like a little kid in it, and Jason could get used to the sight of her beside him.

He started the car and she squealed excitedly at the sound of the motor. He looked at her, a small smile on her face. “Is it the original motor?” she asked. “It doesn’t sound like it, it sounds electrical.”

“That’s ‘cause it is electrical,” he responded. “The original one was very poluent so I switched it.”

“That’s so cool,” she said, closing her eyes. Jason hinted she was trying to hear the sounds of the car, like someone you’d listen to music. “This is so cool,” she breathed out.

He hummed in amusement. “Never met someone who was as passionate about this car as me,” he noted.

“You didn’t meet people with good taste then,” she joked. “I’ve loved this car since I was a teen. Always wanted one, but I never had it in me to buy it.”

“I found this one in a junkyard basically,” he said. “It was in pretty good condition considering where it was. Spent a year tryin’ to fix it to the original conditions, gave up and then another year buildin’ it to what it is today.”

She looked at him, he noticed out of the corner of the eye, incredulously. “You’re so fucking cool, Jason,” she said. “You’re beyond cool, you’re just…” she trailed off. He looked at her quickly and she had a shy smile and she was looking at her hands.

“Thank you,” he thanked her. “People haven’t found me cool in,” he let out a breath, “forever.”

“Well, you haven’t been walking with very nice people then,” she said. “No offense to your friends, but you’re just… you’re special, Jay.”

And, fuck, did he love hearing that from her. She left him speechless. She turned to him and saw his stony expression--an expression of panic and chock, not of disgust as she thought--and she inhaled sharply. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” she said, desperately trying to correct her mistake. “I said too much. Forget I said anything, please,” she completed, smally.

“It’s okay, love,” he replied softly, the car stopping slowly at the intersection. He turned to her. He grabbed her hands, that were twisting nervously in her lap--a nervous tick he remembered noticing she had in school--and looked at her softly. “You’re fucking special too, Y/N.”

She looked at him and her eyes filled with tears. “I--” she hesitated. She smiled at him, sniffing and wiping her eyes with one of her hands, the other still intertwined in Jason’s. “Thank you,” she said. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

He smiled at her. “I’m just saying the truth, love.”

That made her even more flustered. “You’re just being kind,” she said, shyly, looking at her hands entangled with his. She removed her hands of his, the traffic light turned green and Jason resumed driving the car.

“No, I’m not,” he denied her. “I’m telling you the truth. You’re special, and you’re amazing, Y/N.”

She shook her head in denial, her bottom lip trapped by her teeth. “I’m not all that great,” she whispered. “I’m pretty annoying in fact. You just haven’t seen it yet.”

“I don’t believe you. Why’d you think that?”

She shrugged. “When you spend your whole childhood and teenagedom hearing that you’re nothing but an annoying crybaby nerd, you start to believe it at some point.”

Jason swallowed tickly at her remark. He couldn’t believe what she had just said. “Who said that to you?”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to worry,” she replied, dismissing his concern. “It’s over now.”

“But it still hurts you,” he noted. He noticed how this could easily apply to him. How he easily would get worked up on the little things Bruce would mention and Jason would brush it, say it’s over, it doesn’t matter, when it clearly does. It fucking does.

She looked at her hands, and sniffed. “It’ll always hurt, I guess.”

Jason was rarely speechless. But, at that moment, he didn’t know what to say. Because he remembered hearing those things about her. He remembered people talking about her in that way, saying she was weird, and that they only talked to her when they needed help with homework. Admittedly, he never ever said those things about her--he didn’t even believe those things--but he never said a word to those who called her that. And that, arguably, was worse than saying those things.

He struggled to conciliate that guilt with the fact that he didn’t even feel like that boy--he wasn’t that boy anymore. That boy died by the hands of a clown. What had emerged from it was something entirely different. And yet, he still felt guilt over something he hadn’t done when he was that kid.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Jay,” she said, her hands finding his, on the gear shift. “You didn’t do anything.”

“But I--” he started, “I didn’t say anything about it. I knew about those things and I didn’t stop them.”

She looked at him, and he saw by the corner of his eye. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m sure you were going through other stuff and you just wanted to fit in.”

How was she so fucking understanding? He scoffed lightly. The thing is: he wasn’t trying to fit in, he was trying to stay out of sight. So he just listened and said nothing. “How are you so good?” He said, incredulously. He was the first person to say Gotham was rotten, head to toe, and yet there she was, fucking pure soul.

“I guess I just am,” she shrugged.

And then they fell in a comfortable silence. Her hand was still in his, and he fought the urge to bring her knuckles to his lips and plant a kiss on it. Every now and then he would steal glances at her, and he swore she was glowing in the orange sunlight peaking in the window.

“That’s me,” she said, pointing to a tall modern building a block before Gotham Academy.

“That’s a big fancy building,” he noted slowly.

“It’s one of my parents’ apartments,” she explained. “I live in it rent free, but I have to pay for electricity and food and stuff. It was the condition for using it. They insisted they’d pay the tuition and I demanded this apartment in return, ‘cause I wanted to pay the tuition and they wanted to--” she trailed off noticing a weird look in his eyes. “I’m sorry I ranted.”

“It’s fine, I like to hear you talk,” he said, smiling.

She smiled back, looking at her feet. “Well, I should get going,” she said opening the car door. “Thanks for the ride, Jason.”

“No problem, love,” he shook his head slightly, and looked at her softly.

“Yeah,” she whispered, her eyes fixed on his, already out of the car. “Bye,” she finished awkwardly and quickly walked to the building.

Jason watched as she floated to her home, mesmerized by her.

Fuck.

“Red Hood has been following me,” she manifested her psychologist looking at her with wide eyes. “It’s weird to say it out loud.”

“Why do you say that?” her psychologist asked.

“‘Cause I’ve seen him,” she replied. “A couple of times actually.”

“Are you sure?” the therapist asked.

“Yes, I am,” she nodded enthusiastically. “I just don’t get why he’s following me.”

“Isn’t he supposed to be a good guy?” her therapist quizzed. “Following people doesn’t seem like a good guy thing to do.”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I’m not scared though. I know I should be, but I’m not,” she commented. “I know I haven’t done anything wrong, there's no reason for him to be following me, at least no reason like that. I don’t know,” she sighed, “maybe he just wants to be my guardian angel,” she shrugged.

“It sure is a weird angel,” the therapist noted. “Have you talked about this with Jason?”

“I did mention it to him,” she nodded. “But he got all weird about it and changed the subject quickly.”

“That’s strange.”

“Yeah, he definitely knows something about this,” she said smugly. “I really want to find out.”

“Well, on the topic of Jason,” her therapist said as if she hadn’t brought him up, “how’s things with him?”

“They’re okay,” she shrugged. “He comes to see me at work almost every day. Then he walks me to my car or gives me a ride home.”

“I see,” the psychologist noted. “And what do you guys talk about?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled under her breath. “Mostly about books. Sometimes about life,” she recounted. “He’s very reserved. He doesn’t talk much about himself.”

“And you? Do you talk about yourself?”

She hesitated. There was no point in lying to her therapist, it would go against the very definition of therapy and if there was one thing she hated was hypocrisy. “No,” she shook her head quietly, “I-- everytime I try, something happens and…” she shrugged. “I guess I’m too scared of scaring him off.”

“Y/N…” the therapist warned. “You need to open up to him. How do you expect him to stick around if you don’t share things about you?”

“To be fair,” she said raising her finger as if it would make the point she was about to make more believable, “I’ve talked about myself once with him and it was… fuck, it was hard.”

“How did he react?” the therapist inquired. “Was he a dick?”

“No!” she was quick to reply. “He was the sweetest. But I’m just…”

“Depriving yourself of a potential relationship,” her therapist completed for her. “You’re sabotaging yourself, Y/N.”

“No, I’m not,” she denied, fooling herself. “I just don’t want to get my hopes up and end up heartbroken.”

The psychologist sighed. “I know you’re scared of getting hurt, but you’ll never know unless you let him in,” the therapist stated. “You might be pushing him away and sabotaging yourself when investing in this relationship could very well be something right for you,” she finished.

“I know,” she mumbled. “But I just,” she sighed, defeated. “I’m scared.”

“I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to try,” her therapist added softly.

“Okay,” she nodded, softly.

She waited at the edge of her seat for Jason to come in at the store. She was going to try. Fuck, she hoped she didn’t mess anything up. Up until that moment she didn’t know what she was doing, she just did it. She hoped she knew what she was about to do.

The bell rang and Jason walked in, his hair swept by the chilly wind and his hands stuffed in his jeans’ pockets. He wore that leather jacket she loved so much, it made him so much more beautiful. She just wanted to grab him by his shirt and kiss him to no end. She smiled at him and he smiled back.

“I was waiting for you,” she announced happily.

“Yeah?” he said, leaning on his elbows. His face was inches away from hers. His pupils were blown wide, his blue eyes twinkling with something she couldn’t quite place yet. “Excited for the next rec, huh?” he smirked.

“No, actually,” she corrected him. “I needed to tell you something.”

“Oh,” he said. “Go ahead then, I’m all yours.”

“Okay,” she whispered, her heart racing at his comment. She swallowed nervously, looking him in the eye. This was it. She was going to open up to him. “I was talking to my therapist actually,” she started, “and we agreed--actually no,” she laughed. “She said that I need to open up and be vulnerable more. And it may seem a bit weird that I’m saying this to you but I swear there’s a reason. So here it goes,” she breathed out. “I really like you, Jay. Like, really really like you. And I’m sorry if I’ve seemed weird or standoffish or anything, I’m trying to work on that. So if you want to, I don’t know, take this, um, friendship somewhere else, maybe somewhere romantic, I’d be, you know, happy to take it there too. With you, I mean.”

He smiled genuinely at her. His eyes shifted to her hands. She was twisting her fingers nervously. He rested his hand on hers, her hand immediately relaxing under his touch. “I’d like that,” he responded quietly. “Wanna go on a date tonight?”

She smiled, her eyes a bit teary. Her heart raced in her chest, the worst case scenario hadn’t come true. He liked her too. He wanted to date too. Her anxiety was wrong. Thank God for that. ��Yeah, I do,” she confessed.

His smile got bigger somehow. “Great,” he breathed out, and she could feel the nerves leaving his body. “I’ll pick you up at 8,” he stated.

She smiled at him. “Great.”

“I need you to cover patrol for me,” Jason said to Tim, his phone pressed between his shoulder and ear. He carried a bouquet of flowers, bags from the market and a suit he had it pressed and sent to the Iceberg Lounge.

“Why?” Tim quizzed him.

“‘Cause I have a thing,” Jay responded.

“Yeah, Imma need more than that, Jay,” Tim said. “What thing?”

“You’re a little fucker”, he answered, resting the bags on the floor. “You just want gossip.”

“No, I want a reason why I’ll have to add the Narrows to my patrol tonight,” Tim argued. “It’s quite far from my usual route, y’know.”

“Fuck you, Tim,” Jason muttered.

“Why such hostility?” Tim teased. Jason could practically hear his brother’s smirk over the phone. “Is someone going on a date tonight?”

Jason exhaled deeply, trying not to lose his temper and drive to Wayne Towers to choke his brother to death. He was on a schedule, he had dinner to prepare. “Will you cover for me or not?”

“Will you tell me why you're ditching patrol?”

“No,” Jason gritted through his teeth.

“Then no,” Tim said plainly. Jason knew he was messing with him.

Jason sighed. There was no way he’d cancel on Y/N. Not because his motherfucking brother was toying with him. “I swear to God, Drake, if you tell anyone I'll kill you the most painful way possible.”

“So you are going on a date,” Tim stated.

“Fuck,” Jason sighed. “Yes, I am. Now, please Timothy, would you cover patrol for me tonight?”

“Who’s the girl?”

“Tim,” Jason started.

“Or boy, I don’t judge.”

“Will you cover the motherfucking patrol?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tim dismissed.

“Thank you,” Jason sighed relieved.

“Will you introduce me to t--”

Jason hung up on his brother. He had a date to get ready to.

Jason spent the rest of his afternoon getting everything ready for the date. The food, the flowers, the ambiance of the roof. Everything was perfect, just like she fucking deserved.

He was nervous out of his mind. His hands were sweating and he couldn’t stop running his hands through his hair in a nervous habit. It was so long ago the last time he had gone on a date with someone he cared this much about. He didn’t want to screw it up.

She was so precious, so good. He didn’t know what someone like her saw in someone like him, someone tainted and broken. But she saw something, and she wanted him. And he wasn’t dumb, he wasn’t going to let her go. Even if everything in his life told him to run from her, protect her from a distance, don’t get close ‘cause she’ll become a target.

And he was doing just that, he was protecting from a distance as the Hood. He was being fucking dumb about it too, cause she had seen him more than once. But being distant was not enough, not anymore.

So there he was, in front of her apartment, black ‘62 Corvette, crisp black suit and blood red t-shirt. His hair was messy and his hands were in his pockets. He leaned on the hood of the car, waiting patiently for her to come to his encounter. He was early anyways, he could wait, even if he hated the looks of pity he was receiving. She would come and those fucking pedestrians knew nothing.

She opened the doors and stepped on the sidewalk. She was wearing a beautiful red knee-length dress with black heels and Jason was just paralyzed at her sight. Fucking hell. How can someone be so perfect? How can someone so perfect want him?

She stopped in front of him, a smile framing her face beautifully, her glasses crystal clean. “You look great, Jay,” she stated.

“I--” he opened his mouth but no words came out of his mouth. Her face fell and her eyes flashed with worry.

“What’s wrong?” she said. “Is everything okay?”

He breathed out and smiled at her. “Everything’s perfect, love,” he said. He picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles gently. “You look breathtakin’.”

She looked down shyly. “Thank you, Jay.”

He opened the door of the car for her. She thanked him kindly, and he closed the door for her. He entered the car and started the engine. “Where’re we going?” she quizzed him.

He looked at her with a smirk. “It’s a surprise,” he stated. “It’s part of the charm.”

She smiled at him. “You don’t need to surprise me to charm me, Jason.”

“Cute you think that, but you’ll see,” he responded. “This is going to be a perfect night.”

She looked at him and sighed quietly, like she was considering something. “It’s already perfect. I’m here with you,” she said coyly.

Jason looked at her quickly, her gaze fixed on him. He smiled shyly. One of his hands left the wheel and found hers, holding it tightly. He brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed it softly. He wanted to say three little words, and he almost did. But she was too precious and he couldn’t just waste those words in a moment like this, an immature moment at that. No, he would cherish her like she was supposed too. He would love her in secret for now, and when he was sure she reciprocated his feelings he would say it with all his heart, he would shout it from the highest rooftop.

But, for now, he just looked at her, hoping his look was enough to say what he couldn’t. She smiled like she understood what he was trying to say.

Yeah, she was perfect. He wasn’t going to let her slip through his fingers. Fuck the voices in his head saying to run. For once in his life he was going to welcome this feeling with open arms.

“So, how was your week?” her therapist quizzed.

“It was great, actually,” she said. “Jay took me to the museum in Metropolis. I did well in a test and I got my salary early so I bought a new pin for my collection.”

“You’re sure spending a lot of time with Jason,” the psychologist noted.

“Yeah, yeah,” she sighed softly. “I really like him, you know.”

“I do know,” the therapist replied. “How does it feel to be in a relationship?”

She looked down at her hands, flustered. “It feels nice and weird and...and…” she trailed off. “I have no words to describe it.”

Her therapist smiled at her. “He seems like a nice guy, Y/N,” she commented. “How do your friends like him?”

She twisted her hands nervously. “Henry was suspicious of him at first,” she started. “You know, Jay’s a bit shy and intimidating, Henry was concerned he’d hurt me.”

“And how did you react to his concern?”

“I mean,” she shrugged, “it’s a valid concern. But Jay wouldn’t…” she hesitated. “We’ve talked about this, y’know? He knows where I stand, he knows where my fears come from and he gave me his word,” she sniffed, her voice strained. “He promised. And so far he didn’t break any of his promises.”

“You do trust him a lot,” the therapist noticed.

“I trust him with my life,” she added. “I hope he doesn’t break that trust.”

She hummed and wrote something down. “What about your other friends?” her therapist questioned. “I know Henry means the world to you, but he’s not your only friend.”

“Julie thought he was okay and the other boys were just very neutral about it,” she explained. “You know how they’re like. As long as I’m happy they’ll be supportive.”

“Are you happy?” the psychologist inquired.

“Yeah,” she replied enthusiastically. “Fuck yeah. Jay’s just… He’s the best, you know. He gets me. He’s respectful and he’s smart and handsome. I really like him.”

Her therapist smiled. “I’m glad you’re happy, Y/N,” she said. “It’s been a long time coming.”

“It sure has,” she chuckled quietly.

“How about the Red Hood?” the therapist asked. “Have you seen him lately?”

“All the time,” she replied. “Ever since I started dating Jay, I’ve seen the Hood when I wasn’t with him.”

“Doesn’t that concern you?”

“No,” she shook her head. “It’s weird but it doesn’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “He seems familiar, you know? Not because I’ve seen him up close or seen him more times than I can count but…” she pondered. “His posture and his stance, it’s so so familiar to me. I wonder if I’ve met him as a civilian.”

“You could have,” her therapist pondered. “How does Jason think of this?”

“He doesn’t,” she answered. “He always changes the subject very quickly every time I bring it up.”

“That’s weird.”

“Yep,” she agreed. “I know he’s up to something. I just haven’t had the courage to ask him. Yet.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Jason messed up. He messed up bad.

He could live with the fact she had seen him a couple of times lurking in rooftops making sure she was safe. He could live with the fact she was onto him, that she knew he was hiding something from her, something related to the Hood. Jason knew eventually he would have to tell her, this double life would become unsustainable, and he’d have to merge it into one. As much as he dreaded that day, he would fucking do it.

But when she sat him down in her living room and said that she knew he was the Hood, he knew, he was fucking sure, he should have been more careful.

“I’m not mad, y’know,” she said quietly. “I get why you hid from me.”

Jason remained quiet, trying to make sense of his thoughts. “How did you find out?”

A smile passed on her face. “You were just so familiar, I guess,” she explained. “You felt so familiar even from afar. So I just started connecting the dots.”

“I see,” he whispered. His heart beated faster and faster with anxiety. He couldn’t handle it, he thought he would have more time to tell her. He hadn’t realized she could very well discover on her own, he had given her enough clues to do just so. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s fine, Jason,” she replied quietly. “You don’t need to feel sorry.”

“I feel like I should,” he said. He sighed and grabbed her hands softly. “I owe you an explanation, Y/N.”

“You don’t owe me anything besides your safety,” she cut him. “I don’t care about what you do at night, Jason. I care about you, I--” she looked at him, trying to search for something in his eyes. “I love you, Jay. And I don’t think I could bear to lose you.”

Jason opened his mouth in shock. He wasn’t expecting that. “I love you,” he replied to her. “I’ve fucking loved you ever since I laid eyes on you, Y/N,” he grabbed her face and rested his forehead on hers. “I was just so scared to let you in on the secret. ‘Cause I know of the dangers, I know first hand how fucking dangerous this life is, and loosing you would kill me,” he explained. “For the second time,” he whispered.

Her hands rested on his cheeks, her thumb caressing him gently. She kissed him, softly, and he reciprocated it.

“I want to tell you,” Jason whispered, against her lips. “I have to tell you, how I became what I became.”

“You don’t n--” she began.

“I do, though,” he interrupted her. “I do,” he whispered. He sighed, and looked down. He held her wrists carefully. “If you don’t want to see me after everything I tell you, I’ll understand. I won’t blame you.”

“Imma stop you right there,” she looked him in the eyes. “You think I don’t know anything, but I know a couple of things, Jay. I did my research on the Hood,” she commented. “You don’t scare me.”

“There are things that I’ve done that…” he shook his head.

“It’s okay, Jay,” she said softly. “One step at a time, love.”

So he took one step at a time. He told her everything carefully. Some details were left behind, he couldn’t say them out loud, not even if he wanted to. She held his hands through it all, and he was truly grateful for it.

“I had no idea,” she whispered. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that.”

“You don’t have to be,” he shook his head and squeezed her hands. “It led me to you.”

author’s note: here is the link to my jason playlist once again and the link to my masterlist.

#my masterlist #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #Jason Todd #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x y/n #red hood x you

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thefanbasewhore · 4 years

Text

The Owner of His Heart. ||A.R

AN: DO NOT CLICK KEEP READING IF YOU DIDNT NOT WATCH THE MOVE.. SPOILERS AHEAD… Also excuse my writing it’s been months since I’ve written anything !

Summary: before spoilers… Reader and Arvin had gone out a couple times but never labeled their relationship but one day when Arvin needs someone, she’s there.

Warning: Just the whole situation with the preacher, death, angst, and maybe a few curses?

The news was unsettling, the kind that sat deep inside the pit of one’s stomach, squeezing and aching, it made Y/N’s chest heavy with sadness. The news of Lenora’s death was surprising, a good God loving girl like her would never commit such a sin but there she lays with no one here., y/n is the only other person but her family standing above Lenora’s casket. Grandma Russel sobbing over the light-colored tomb, Uncle Earskell didn’t say much. As for Arvin she tried to get him to open up but, it didn’t seem like the right time to speak to him but her heart was hurting for his loss.

The preacher didn’t bother to come out and say any words, a suicide, a sinner.

Hesitantly she steps forward, hand comforting the lower back of Arvin. Arvin stiffens but he doesn’t bother to move away from it but only signs. “Arvin.” It’s a failed attempt to hold his hand because he’s almost half way down the dirt road before any other words could follow.

“just give him time sweetheart’” Grandma Russel manages to say, “He will come to you when he needs you.”

He always did. The couple were pretty much inseparable, best friends since childhood even walked together to school until graduation. Tears filled her eyes, Lenora had always been her friend too. They had only became more because the pressure to settle down and find a wife was weighed heavily on Arvin’s shoulders, he tried and tried but none of them clicked. One day it hit him, why wouldn’t he take his best friend out? There was no awkward introduction, no fakeness, she was the realist person he’s ever known.

At first it was a little awkward, so shocked that Arvin asked, she thought it was a joke and laughed in his face. He played it off cooly, but the look on his face said it all, not to mention how flush his cheeks were. “Wait you’re serious Arvin?”

“Mmm.” He confirms, “we already know everything about each other, it’s real between us. Just me and you, besides you ain’t the worst person I’ve ever seen.”

“wow thanks.” Her eyes roll make him laugh, he sucks in his bottom lip and smiles. “I’m just kidding darlin’, you’re beautiful.”

“Am I now?” A playful grin reaching her eyes as she leans over the counter of the diner. “So you’re confession your undying love for me officially?”

“yeah, I guess I am.” Tom shift uncomfortably in his seat as she tops of his coffee. It’s that sweet smile he’s so used too, but this time it send butterflies twirling in his stomach, he had always had a crush when he was younger but as the world grew colder and duller, he never acted on it. “I guess I’ll let you take me out, but we are not going anywhere the creepy abandoned house you always try to get me to go in.”

“why darlin’? Afraid of ghost?” Tom would never go there on a first date, a beautiful woman deserved something with flowers and big bright lights with dinner. Besides, he was pretty sure that his nan would actually kill him if he did anything but show Y/N the udder most respect.

That was only weeks ago, of course they shared some kisses here and there, he would pick her up for picnics, and dinner dates but being so caught up with each other talking about labels never came up.. but it was two people, best friends enjoying the company of one another.

Now she stood over Lenora’s grave watching Arvin’s figure disappear past the tree line, heart heavy with loss. Giving him time is what is best, a few hours later she found herself knocking on the Russel’s door, a pie in hand. They considered her family of grieving with them but it didn’t feel right showing up with nothing.

“Grandma.” She presses a kiss to older woman’s cheek stepping through the doorway, “Did you eat anything? Want me to make some dinner?”

“all taking care of, maybe you could convince Arvin to eat though, he hasn’t left his room since.” Without a second thought she grabbed the plate from the table and made it through the hall way to Arvin’s room. There’s knock but there’s no answer, it quiet, something that is not familiar when Arvin’s involved.

Pressing against the door she opens it slowly, gripping the plate with two hands once the door is closed. “Arvin, you gotta eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.” It muffled from how tightly the blanket was wrapped around him, hoarse from the throbbing inside of his throat. The whole room felt as if it was spinning, heavy eyes with irritated cheeks for the amount of times he’s wiped them.

“hey.” It’s a soft coo as she places the food on the stand next to the bed. “Look at me.”

The brown doe eyes glance up sadly, red with pressure, a ring of redness making it look like he hasn’t slept in days. “Do you need anything? I want to make this better Arvin.”

“I want you to leave.” He admits, pain twisting into his features. “I��m cursed, every single person I love has killed themselves, You’re it going to get caught up in my evil. First my daddy now my sister, who’s next?”

His breathing was increasing, growing with every word as his chest started to rise and fall. “I’m no good for anyone.”

She was stunned for a second, not ever seeing him like this. Of course, he’s always been a gentle kid with way more feelings then he would like to admit but watching the person you love totally break down into a panic attack was unsettling. Her fingers squeeze his gently, she’s here don’t worry.

“Arvin, that’s not true. You are not evil.” She frowns, without him even noticing managing to slip underneath the blanket wrapping her arms around his shoulders, face pressing against the swells of her chest. Fingers play with the soft brown strings. “What happen to them was an act -.”

“If you say God I might scream.” Arvin doesn’t fight the comfort, the softness of her breast, sweet smell of perfume relaxes him completely.

“I was going to say an act of themselves. You are not responsible for others choices, you can’t change what will happen.” Arvin doesn’t say anything else, he stews in the words.

“Now,” Soft pads trace his jaw, touching the highs of his cheeks to make his eyes meet hers. “I don’t want to ever hear any of that ‘I’m cursed’ bullshit again, it is not you. You are not evil and you haven’t lost everyone that loves you.”

Arvin doesn’t need anything else said, he knew exactly what she meant. All he could think was my best-friend, my lover, he pushes up from the bed slowly pressing his lips to hers. It was surprising but without a second thought her lips found his back, meeting in a slow, meaningful kiss. “Imma marry you.”

“oh that’s it? No asking me, nothing?” He rolls his eyes lightly, the first smile in days had graced his face, it was short lived but the sight made her heart flutter.

“ya see babe? I think you knew you were going to marry me the moment you laid eyes on me, always trying to make kissy face when we were younger.” He’s playful, something about growing up together makes it easy to be.

“well who’s making kissy face now?” Arvin’s lips meet hers once again, a subtle way to show his defeat.

A few days later despite how empty his chest felt he went back to work, mostly for the ambition of buying that shinny ring he promised. He was hoping in two weeks he’d have enough to ask properly, he wanted the prettiest one for his girl.

The sheriff stopped him a few day later, right when he was ready to go home, whispers of Lenora being pregnant out of wedlock but it didn’t make any sense. Why would she kill yourself over a baby? She would have all the support in the world, and would have made a great mother.

Then it hit him, who’s baby was it? The only time she’d ever spend was at her mother’s grave. Her mother’s grave and then the preacher… It all suddenly made sense. He felt sick to his stomach as he decided on walking home.. did he tell Nana? It would only break her heart more.

Walking past the cemetery he couldn’t help but notice the flashy, white car. He was about to give the preacher a piece of his mind before a girl no older then sixteen had climbed into the back of it, He couldn’t watch, he felt sick besides he had all of the evidence he needed.

The preacher had taken advantage of her, using God to trick her, and then not wanting to be shammed found a way to fix it. Lenora killed herself because she was afraid of the shame.

Tom slammed the door rather fast, walking right past the two most important women in his life in the kitchen and headed straight for his bedroom. The gun, he needed the gun that was in that stupid box under the bed.

“Arv? Is everything okay honey?” Of course she was here, why couldn’t you just stay away and make this less hard? It was so hard to make a decision when the voice of an angel would call him back to reality.

Killing the preacher meant breaking his promise to her, he wouldn’t marry her but run away, betray every word he said. Lenora deserved better, she deserved revenge.

On the topic of marriage it only made him face the fact that Lenora will never get married now because of that preacher and made his hands shake, tears of frustration run down his cheeks. His head was pounding from all the thinking, fighting with himself over wrong and right.

She enters without warning with a sigh, delicate fingers wrapping around him. “It’s okay, shhh.”

One more night with his love couldn’t hurt, one more night filled with comfort. After all the preacher wasn’t going anywhere. “What happened?”

“I’m fine darlin’,” Arvin wipes his tear filled cheeks, smiling sadly at her. Of course he wasn’t going to tell her, he had to convince her he was fine. “I jus’ miss her is all.”

“Me too, it’s not the same without her.” He nods in agreement wrapping his arms tightly around her back, pressing a soft kiss against her forehead. “I love you, and I don’t want you to forget it.”

“I love you to Arv.” Nothing else was said, she decided to stay that night with him. It was surprising.. sharing a bed with a man that is not yet her husband but after him begging it was hard to say no, especially in his time of grieving. Arvin wanted to hold her one last night before he slips away in the morning, and that is exactly what he did. All night held her, stole small kisses as she slept. Before the sun even reached the sky he was gone, but not before placing the small box on the night table.

It was nothing fancy, a small rock with a shiny silver band but it felt right since it rightfully belonged to her. The owner of his heart. With one last kiss to her forehead Arvin was gone but it would not be the last time they meet. Faith had other plans for the pair, their destiny had been written long ago.

#arvin russell #arvin russel x reader #tom holland #the devil all the time

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Damsels, Chapter Five: Work That Gameboy

By SisterSpooky1013 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Rated E / Read previous chapters here

Mulder arrives at work early, looking longingly at Scully’s car in the parking lot. Approaching it, he peers in the windows looking for…he isn’t sure what. Her car is, as usual, neat as a pin with no indication of where she went or why.

In his restlessness the night before, he’d thought a lot about why it bothers him so much not to know where she is or what she’s doing. If the roles were reversed, he would expect her to wait it out and trust him to take care of himself, but for some reason he’s struggling to do the same for her. He thought at first that it was her tendency to get hurt or need help, but by comparison he needs her help just as often as she needs his, so that doesn’t track. Then he thought maybe it’s that he doesn’t trust Skinner to do what’s in her best interest, but Skinner has shown a tendency to be protective of Scully on numerous occasions (and in fact Mulder strongly suspects his feelings for her go beyond the bounds of strict professionalism), so that isn’t entirely logical either. Skinner may have left him out to dry with the New Spartans, but he doesn’t believe the man would stoop low enough to treat Scully in the same manner.

In the end, he realized that it’s pretty simple; he’s just crazy about her. His protectiveness doesn’t have anything to do with how capable she is, or the situations other people might put her in, or even situations she might put herself in. He misses her, and cares so much about her that not even knowing where she is feels wrong. It feels like a piece of him is missing, and he’s not allowed to know where it is or when he’ll get it back.

After pretending to work for an hour, he sulks up to Skinner’s office and asks for a few minutes of his time. Skinner is immediately irritated, though Mulder doesn’t realize that it’s in response to him and not a preexisting condition. He stands in front of Skinner’s desk, looming over him.

“What do you want, Agent Mulder?” Skinner grumbles, not looking up from the document he’s reading.

“I’d like to know where Agent Scully is, sir.”

Skinner sighs heavily, dropping his head to his chest.

“Get out of my office, Agent Mulder,” he says in a low, menacing tone.

“Sir, I’m not asking to contact her, I would never compromise her case, I just need to at least know where she is. What if something happens and I need to find her?”

Skinner stands, looking Mulder in the eye with an intensity he’s seen on very few occasions, none of them fond memories. “Agent Mulder, Agent Scully explicitly asked me not to tell you where she is, or what she’s doing. Even if she hadn’t, I STILL would not tell you, however I hope that if you don't respect the direct orders of your superior, you might, at the very least, respect Agent Scully’s wishes. Now get the hell out of my office and do not bring this up again, understood?”

Mulder glances down and notices Scully’s keys on the desk near Skinner’s nameplate, her Apollo 11 keychain easily identifiable. He leans forward, putting his hands on the desktop, one covering the keys.

“Sir, if anything happens to her, I’ll-“

“You’ll what, Agent Mulder?” Skinner challenges him, stuffing his hands in his pockets in a show of bravado.

Mulder straightens, palming the keys as he stands, and leaves without another word.

Scully arrives at the club just before 2 pm, wearing shorts and a tank top as Angel had instructed. After stuffing her purse into a locker, she finds Angel and Tibet on the floor, which has returned to its daylight state of clean and quiet. Queenie restocks the bar while Ben fiddles with the sound system.

Tibet is up on the stage while Angel sits at the tip rail, offering pointers on a new dance Tibet is working out. Scully immediately notices that Tibet’s hair is cropped short and worn in its natural curls, and realizes she’d been wearing a wig the night before.

“So I was thinking that I could either take my top off just before or just after the first chorus, tell me which looks better, okay?” Tibet says to Angel as Scully enters and takes a seat beside her.

“Benny! Hit me with the music!” Tibet shouts, and then repeats her performance twice, revealing her breasts at a different point in the song each time. When she’s finished, she sits down on the edge of the stage in front of them and asks for their thoughts, her breasts still uncovered.

“I think the sooner the better,” Angel says. “They come here to see your body, so show it to em!”

Tibet nods. “What do you think, Desi?” She asks, stretching a smooth brown leg out to her side and leaning into it.

Scully suddenly feels entirely out of her league in terms of providing an opinion. “Uh, well, generally speaking I guess I’d say wait. You want to build some suspense, right? Make them work for it?”

Angel looks at her suspiciously out of the corner of her eye. “You don’t fuck on the first date, do you?” She asks with a haughty grin, and Scully’s eyes go big at the question. “I’m just messing with you, let’s get to your training!”

“Alright,” Tibet begins as though she’s done this dozens of times, tugging the straps of her shirt back over her shoulders. “So, have you ever given a lap dance before?” she asks plainly, and Scully’s cheeks flush.

“Well, kind of I guess. In college, though more as a joke than anything else. I would definitely consider myself a beginner.”

“Got it, got it,” Tibet responds. “Well, for the most part dancing is about creating a sense of intimacy. It’s fake, obviously, but the more your customer feels like you actually care about him, want him to look at you, like that he’s appreciating your body, the better you’ll do. Your stage set is just about showing yourself off and getting them curious about you. The real money comes from lap dances and VIP, and the more you can draw attention with a really great stage set, the more customers will want to spend time with you afterward. Angel is a beast on the pole and she can teach you all those tricks, but I consider myself the lap dance expert around here, so I’m gonna teach you that part.” She smiles and jumps down from the stage, pulling a chair away from one of the tables and gesturing for Scully to sit in it.

“Oh,” Scully says, and sits as instructed.

“Sometimes, when you’re on the floor, customers will flag you down or ask for you, and that’s great. But you also have to approach people, because they’ll be too shy to ask. So you might come up and do this.”

Tibet saunters towards Scully with a secretive smile on her lips, stepping so close that her thighs thread between Scully’s knees. Next she leans down, placing her hands on Scully’s shoulders and bringing her mouth to Scully’s ear.

“Would you like a dance, Baby?” she asks in a syrupy voice, and Scully feels a shiver run down her spine. Tibet backs up. “Okay, now you try.”

“You want ME to do that?” Scully clarifies, and while just asking someone if they want a lap dance should be the easiest hurdle to clear, she’s finding that it’s still an uncomfortably high one.

Angel turns her head toward the bar and calls out, “Queenie! We need some liquid courage over here!”

Queenie walks over with a bottle of tequila and three shot glasses, pouring them wordlessly before returning to her task.

Angel holds her glass up, Tibet and Scully following suit. “To new career paths,” Angel says, and Scully smiles thinly, clinking her glass with theirs and throwing back the shot with a grimace.

Three weeks. She’s been gone three weeks, and not a word from Skinner. No update, no information, though he’s stopped by a couple times and asked, drawing increasing amounts of rage from his boss. He’s finished all the paperwork, re-organized the files, cleaned and rearranged the office (only to immediately change it back) and spent hours upon hours imagining where Scully might be right now.

He kept her keys, just in case, but knows she’d be unhappy with him invading her privacy by snooping around her apartment. That’s why he waits three whole weeks before he finally does it. He has a key to her apartment and could have gone there at any point, but her personal keyring also holds the keys for her gun safe and her mailbox, which may prove helpful. After work on a Thursday, he drives by and lets himself in, the warm vanilla smell of her immediately invading his nostrils as he opens the door. He sighs deeply, pulling her into his lungs; it feels like coming home.

First he waters her plants, which are looking half dead, and makes a mental note to use watering them as the reason he came here if asked. Next he opens her gun safe, and is struck to find her service weapon holstered and tucked neatly inside with the safety on. She doesn’t have her gun? What the hell kind of assignment is this? He brings in her mail, which is no help at all, and leaves it stacked on the counter. Next he lays down on her bed, shoving his face into her pillow and breathing the smell of her shampoo for a few minutes before he has the thought to look for her overnight bag.

Scully has a go bag in the trunk of her car for emergencies, but given the opportunity she’ll use her overnight bag and pack for the weather, situation, etc. Opening her closet, he finds it on the floor near her laundry hamper, empty save for a travel size can of hairspray tucked into a side pocket. In her bathroom, he finds all her toiletries accounted for, including her toothbrush. The more he sees, the more confused he is. Even when he’d spent time undercover with dangerous individuals, he’d been allowed to bring his own toothbrush.

Moving to the hallway, he picks up her landline and dials.

“Dana?” Maggie Scully’s voice answers on the second ring.

“No, sorry, Mrs. Scully, it’s Fox Mulder.”

“I saw Dana’s name on the caller ID, is she with you?” Her voice carries worry.

“No, I’m just here at her apartment watering her plants, sorry to confuse you. Have you been in touch with Dana, Mrs. Scully?”

“No, Fox, I haven’t heard from her in weeks. She told me she had an assignment that would take her away for a while and that she’d be unreachable, but I’m a little concerned that she hasn’t contacted me yet.”

Mulder closes his eyes. “I wish I had anything to share, Mrs. Scully, but I’m in somewhat of the same boat. A.D. Skinner isn’t concerned and it does sound like he’s in touch with her, but I was hoping she might have called you.”

“I’m afraid not,” Maggie replies sadly.

“What did she tell you when she left? Did she share any information at all?” he asks hopefully.

“Um, let me think. She said she was going on an assignment and that she’d be out of touch for a few weeks. And she said she’d bring me some Tastykakes when she comes home,” she adds.

“Tastykakes, what are those?” Mulder asks, his investigative senses tingling.

“They’re a treat we always get when we go to Philadelphia; little packaged snack cakes. The kids always loved them.”

“Are they only available in Philadelphia?” he asks, heart pumping.

“I’m not sure, but that’s where we always get them,” Maggie says hopefully.

“Thank you, Mrs. Scully. That’s really helpful. I’ll let you know if I track her down, okay?”

“Thank you, Fox. Take care.”

Setting the phone back on its cradle, he does a little victory dance. It isn’t much, but it’s something. Scully is just a few hours away in the city of brotherly love.

Three weeks. It’s been three weeks of practicing stage sets and lap dances in the afternoon, serving drinks in the evening and well into the middle of the night, and then sleeping until noon. Her arms and legs bear fading bruises from her acclimation to Paul the Pole, the crooks of her elbows and knees sporting slight calluses that help her get a good grip (with an assist from the grip powder Angel has instructed her to use). She’s given Tibet and Angel dozens of lap dances each, the other standing by to coach her on making sure one foot stays on the floor. After three weeks, she found that her barriers were mostly in her head. Once she was able to let go and just move, she’s actually pretty good at it.

That day she arrives in pink cotton shorts and a white tank top, now so used to being scantily clad that it no longer makes her self-conscious, and prepares to do a full dress rehearsal of the routine she worked up with Angel’s help. Queenie and Ricky sit down to observe what is more or less a test of her readiness, and one she intends to pass. Where she would have expected to feel nervous, she’s excited, ever the eager student motivated to impress and exceed expectations. Ben kills the daytime lights to make it look and feel like it would if they were open, and her set begins.

Moving onto the stage, she can barely see her audience with the bright lights trained on her. She quickly gets lost in the movements she rehearsed, feeling graceful as she circles the pole and hitches an arm around it, spinning in a feathery arc. When the point in the dance comes to remove her shirt, she does so as a well practiced step in a strategy, without any feelings of exposure. Soon enough her bra follows suit and she is left with only her tiny pink shorts, nipples hardening as they graze the pole. The undulation of her hips, the pop of her booty out towards the audience, the slip of a hand down the inside of her thigh; they’re each a part of the method. Precisely planned and executed in much the same way as she might dismantle and clean her gun, or prepare a slide for the microscope. It isn’t much different than performing an autopsy, she had reasoned. Except instead of: Y incision, open rib cage, remove organs, examine stomach contents, collect specimens, examine brain, it’s: arch back, grasp breasts, spread legs, thrust pelvis, rub thighs, grind on the pole. She’s always found her strength in taking a clinical, detached approach to difficult tasks, and that turns out to be just as effective on the stage as it is in the lab.

As she finishes, her small audience erupts into applause, standing in ovation as Ben brings the house lights up halfway. Scully smiles shyly, stepping down to join them on the floor as Ricky approaches her and slings an arm around her bare shoulders.

“That was fucking fantastic, Desi. Sexy as fuck. Let me see you do a lap dance now.”

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files #case file #case fic #x files fanfic

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newtonsheffield · 3 years

Note

Hello again!!!! I'm the Spanish girl back in here!

Firstly, I'd like to send you my best wishes for this tough week of work, and I bet we're going to miss you around here this week. But duty calls! And, look, how many people can say they've got a whole week for relaxing after a week of work? 😌 (Perhaps I've misunderstood the whole thing; I've read your posts quite quick and I've understood sth different to what you wanted to say lol)

Well, what can I say with one of the last prompts you have gifted to us...? Kate, Anthony (and his Spanish!!!!!!) and Spain; you got me there. 😂 I even cried the famous "Ole!" when I read all of it (curious note: not all Spaniards use the expression "ole" in daily contexts; it is more like a regional expression that became worldwide famous bc of several reasons that are too long to post here, lol) and I think it's needless to say I loved it... isn't it?

And, I LOVED a lot Edwina's POV and story (well, I've loved everything you have posted and gifted to us, but Eddie has a special place in my heart)! I don't know, but sometimes I get the impression that, in romantic literature, relationships between sisters are not addressed at all and kinda force them to be friends (if they're not rivals... which I find stupid, tbh), not really deepening in the bond between them. Like, they're sisters and they behave more like "my next door neighbour and friend to whom sometimes I'm distant bc life happens" instead of "this person and I share much more than many people can imagine that's beyond friendship and she's more important than anybody else" -idk if this makes sense anymore... I rewrote it a couple of times bc I got the impression I can't express my idea very well 😂-. And that's something I think both of you, JQ and yourself, have achieved and gifted to all of us! We see Edwina and Kate as sisters: they fight, they tease the other, they can't stand each other sometimes, but always, ALWAYS, they care for and love the other just as sisters do. Because of this, I think TVWLM is one of my favourite books in this genre: they give us a two fantastic love stories, not only between a -heterosexual- couple but also between sisters; which is as important as any other kind of relationship.

After my TED Talk (sorry if it's been too much... 😅), I cannot help but imagine an escapade between Anthony and Kate (sans children) and Matthew and Edwina (oh, Matthew... I love you) to Spain just for Anthony, in his stupid one-side battle against Matthew (I love this, tbh; it's sooooo fun 😂), demonstrate Matthew he can speak fluently another language... Just for Matthew be oblivious to this and enjoy a little escapade to Spain with his girlfriend and her family. 😂

Anyways; I hope you're alright and, again, I wish you all the best for this week.

Besos!!! 🥰 (Spanish equivalent for the "Love!" farewell expression; it means "kisses")

Hola! You’re back again! And I’m so glad!

I do have a week off once I finish work tomorrow (Saturday)!! Very Exciting! I have a scarf to knit, and lots of writing to do so that’s very exciting.

Oh Anthony on a Spanish beach in tiny little flamingo shorts? Ole! indeed! That is a curious note, I literally love learning things about other cultures and languages so if anyone wants to share a curious note about their culture, hit me up! I will in turn tell you about the curious culture of The Land Down under, and our propensity to butcher the English language!

I agree, Sister relationships are a very curious thing in media. I’m not a huge fan of very contentious relationships between sisters, I’m not saying they don’t exist in real life, they definitely do, I just think having them as constant rivals is exhausting. And Yes! I Love the relationship between Edwina and Kate very much because I see it as a mirror of my relationship with my own sister. My sister drives me more insane than any other person on this planet. We fight, we bicker, I get absolutely enraged when she steals the last property I need for a set in Monopoly, and yet, She is my favourite person. She can say whatever she wants about me, but were anyone else to? It’s fight on sight. I’ll be honest, that all I’m doing is basing their relationship in these fics on my own with my sister. Nothing special!

Okay! Here we go! Anthony and Kate + Goose and Edwina +Spain

Kate Bridgerton was many, many things, but she liked to think an idiot, was not one of them. And so, when Anthony had said, in a tone she was sure he thought was casual. “I think we deserve a holiday, you’ve been working very hard to grow the little broad bean after all and your sister and her little gander should celebrate their engagement.” She had known exactly what he was up to. And she wasn’t really sure why she played along along with it. Perhaps something in her thrived on the chaos she knew Anthony would would create, perhaps part of her just really wanted a decent paella. Surely it didn’t matter, the result was the same: Kate fixed an innocent expression on her face and said “Where did you have in mind?”

And so, surprise, surprise, here she was: back on a beach in Spain. She had to admit, eyeing Anthony appreciatively as he paddled demonstratively in the shallow water, his plan had its merits. though thus far his attempts had been... unsuccessful at best. Matthew Bagwell seemed absolutely thrilled to be in Spain, on holiday with his fiancée, giving them helpful facts he knew about the architecture as they walked through the city, a wide smile on his face, Anthony practically purple when he corrected a fact Anthony himself had said. “Do you speak Spanish, Goose?” Anthony had said dryly in the hotel lobby shortly after they’d arrived. And Kate had rolled her eyes at Anthony, though Matthew was not paying attention. He had his arms wrapped tightly around Edwina’s waist, whispering something in her ear that made her nose crinkle in delight, the sapphire of her engagement ring glinting in the sunlight. And the beautiful picture they made gave Kate’s heart a little stutter. Anthony tutted. “Matt!” He said sharply, getting the man’s attention, Matthew’s glasses slipping down his nose as his head shot upwards in surprise. “Do you speak Spanish?” Edwina was rolling her eyes now. And Matthew, for his part was completely unbothered “oh, no. Sorry Mate, might have to lean on your pretty heavily this week.” He said, and Kate caught the smug smile on Anthony’s face and bit back a groan Damnit Matthew. “I’m pretty fluent in French, German and Mandarin though!” Matthew said smiling happily, turning back towards Edwina, completely oblivious to the scowl Anthony tossing his way. “Of course you fucking are.” He muttered, fixing Kate with an irritated glare as a laugh escaped her!

The water surely must be a little cool in early October but Anthony showed no signs of it, Beckoning Kate into the water. She groaned and made her way towards him, laughing happily as he tugged her in, his hand resting on her stomach, still no sign of her pregnancy. “Is he watching?” Anthony whispered in her ear as he wrapped his arms around her waist, spinning her through the water So she had a brief image of her sister smiling brightly at her fiancée who appeared to be... bless him building a sandcastle.

“No. He’s not.” Kate said batting her husband’s hands away irritatedly as he scowled. “Are you really trying to look more in love than they are?” Kate scoffed, disbelief at her husband’s idiocy rising with in her. Anthony looked indignant. “No! A man can’t take an interest in his wife now? Very poor show Mrs. Bridgerton.” He said, but his eyes, darted towards the shore at the last second. “Oh I cannot believe you! You’re absolutely manic!” She replied as Anthony attempted to pull her back towards him, Kate putting up very little fight as she tumbled against. him, his voice hot in her ear. “Insufferable I hear.” Kate scoffed. “Ugh! If Anyone’s insufferable it’s him!”

Kate turned to follow Anthony’s gaze to find Matthew waving at them, grinning broadly, completely unbothered. And Kate couldn’t keep from laughing as Anthony went on another muttered tirade.

Besos!

#bridgerton and sons au #kathony #anthony x kate #edwina x Bagwell #edwina x matthew #matthew goose bagwell #anthony bridgerton #kate sheffield #kate sharma #edwina sheffield #edwina sharma #goose is a cutie #the ridiculous rivalry between anthony and goose #molly’s asks and answers

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

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Ok so this is an idea that's been plaguing me but couldn't find it in fic anywhere. Feel free to not write it btw, I just had to share it with SOMEONE. Anyway, imagine a de-aging curse that wears off gradually and in the process, the cursed individual gets older. Like, aging years in a night while staying mostly the same during the day. Imagine the angst potential of Jaskier meeting a pre-Blaviken Geralt who's chatty as fuck. Imagine him meeting Geralt who's just heard of the sacking of KM.

You. I love the way you think. Because this is an idea that I had been toying with about three fandoms ago but wasn’t writing at that point so it never came to anything. Now you come along and reignite the spark. Thank you for the excuse to write it!

CW for injury and past abuse (of the witcher trials kind)

If Only Every Day Was A Birthday

In the grand scheme of things, it was a dumb as fuck thing to do. A ring of toadstools had cropped up on the doorstep of Kaer Morhen one winter morning. Naturally, it was Jaskier who found it and decided that this was within his skill set to deal with, primarily in the form of charming the fae with his songs, charm and overall delightful existence. Even worse, it worked. The witchers watched him chatter away with their less than desirable guests, filling a whole morning with stories, songs, poetry and even a few cruder jokes. In the end, Jaskier talked about birthdays and how sad he was for his witchers that they had forgotten when theirs should be celebrated.

“We wish to reward you for your time,” the fae crooned, getting ready to leave.

“Oh thank you but I couldn’t possibly accept. I have everything I need to make me happy right here.” Jaskier shot Geralt a soft glance.

“Very well. Your reward can be transferred. May the birthdays be as good as you described.” Just like that, the fae melted back into their realm and the toadstools withered.

Looking around, nothing had changed so Jaskier shrugged. Maybe the fae were mistaken or their reward was something like a cake being delivered on a certain day. Cake was always good, Jaskier hoped it would be chocolate. If only the gift had been a simple cake. Nobody was any wiser until the next morning.

“What the fuck?!” Lambert’s shriek was heard throughout the keep and everyone rushed to him in a panic.

In the hall where they had a tendency to gather after dinner, there was a child sleeping in Geralt’s chair. The very chair he had fallen asleep on in fact.

“Where’s Geralt?” Jaskier asked, a sinking feeling in his gut.

The child stirred and blinked sleepily up at the men peering down at him. Brown eyes, brown hair but the features were familiar despite the changes.

“Fuck.”

Child Geralt was chatty as anything. He happily followed them all around, was inquisitive and playful. Jaskier watched him beg Eskel to throw him in the air again or for Lambert to spin him. Even Vesemir was approached with a request to read him a story for an afternoon nap. Maybe the fae were onto something, Geralt had needed a break from everything and if this gave him a chance to enjoy life, Jaskier wouldn’t dream of begrudging him a few days.

Only, it wasn’t just a few days. It was all fine for the first few days. Eskel especially seemed happy to dote on Geralt, carried him around on his hip and even showing him how to cook things in the kitchen. Truthfully, Jaskier was a little enamoured, especially when he walked into the kitchen to see Eskel had Geralt sat on the counter, a whisk clutched in tiny hands as it was licked clean diligently.

If only things could have been so simple. Nobody expected Geralt to wake up on the third morning in tears, crying out for his “mama” and rushing around the keep, trying to find her.

“It took him a while to settle here,” Vesemir said sadly. “He was loyal from a young age.”

Each day, Geralt changed a little, grew older. A tension settled around the witchers that Jaskier just didn’t understand. On the whole, after that one day of Geralt tearfully looking for Visenna, he seemed to settle. A little quieter but still bright eyed and eager to please.

Then Geralt woke up with a black eye, a gash across his arm and looking generally miserable.

“Training.” That was all Lambert had managed to grit out before he stormed out. “Means he’s about eight.”

A birthday a day. Jaskier swallowed at the realisation and the knowledge that it was his fault. He watched from the sidelines as Eskel patched Geralt up, brought in a cloth packed with snow to put over the bruising. In a way, Jaskier envied Lambert and the fact he could just storm off to deal with his emotions. It wasn’t a luxury Jaskier was afforded. This was all his doing and he wasn’t a coward to run from his mess.

The next day the bruising and the cut were gone. However Geralt was timid, especially around Vesemir, kept his eyes to the ground. The only one who could coax a smile from him was Eskel. Not even Jaskier’s singing and attempts to pull Geralt into activities seemed to do much. That night, Geralt went to bed and the others sat in a heavy silence around the hearth.

“He’s what, 10 tomorrow?” At least Lambert had come back but he was no less agitated. If anything, he seemed to avoid Geralt at all costs. “I really hope this spell wears off tomorrow.”

The spell didn’t wear off. A bloodcurdling scream signalled the fact Geralt was awake. As one, the witchers were rushing to the room he had been given considering he didn’t remember his own and Jaskier couldn’t face leaving what had been their shared room.

“Don’t go in,” Lambert had warned but it was too late. Jaskier had peered into the room and blanched. There was blood. So much blood. Eskel was sat on the edge of the bed, holding Geralt down who was crying red tears, fingers flexing, trying to fight off the grip so he could claw at his own face. A foot caught Eskel in the ribs and he grunted but didn’t let go of Geralt.

There was hope in Jaskier that maybe the pain would last maybe a few minutes. At worse, an hour. He was proven wrong when the gurgle screams and cries lasted into the afternoon. Not once did Eskel leave him. It was only as midnight came that silence fell across Kaer Morhen once again. That night, Jaskier stayed outside Geralt’s room, the sheets had been freshly changed from filth sodden to something cleaner. The Lambert had dragged Eskel to his room and Jaskier was grateful he didn’t have witcher hearing. Even his human ones could pick up on the dry sobs coming from the room.

In the morning, a yellow eyed but still brown hairs Geralt greeted them with his arm in a sling. As Jaskier made conversation with him, he could hear Vesemir’s murmur of “one down, four to go” and that was the most chilling thing Jaskier had heard.

Sure enough the next day was more choking screams. Eskel looked haggard and they didn’t even snap at Jaskier to get out. Even though Vesemir tried to give Geralt potions to numb him or even knock him out, they didn’t seem to work. Three days of torture. On the second day Eskel barked at Lambert to take over and he hurried out. Each night found not just Lambert and Eskel curled up but Vesemir and Jaskier also ended up in the pile. It wasn’t a pile borne of good moods and love though. Some nights Jaskier watched the witchers, they all looked lost in their own heads, hollow and haunted. It wasn’t a good look on any of them.

White hair on a young teenager looked odd. But Geralt didn’t seem too fazed by it, he looked almost proud when he next woke up coherent. He was also a lot more inclined to tussle with Lambert and Eskel, gleeful in their battles. Even when he woke up with broken bones, on one memorable morning a locked jaw, he still seemed in good spirits. On the surface, the others were too but more than once Jaskier had walked in on Lambert and Eskel looking downtrodden.

“I’d forgotten how bright he was,” Vesemir said, leaning against the wall next to Jaskier while the others were engaged in some kind of strange wrestling that seemed to end up with Lambert and Geralt teaming up against Eskel and tickling him until he was on his knees and laughing while begging for mercy. “The Path had not been kind to him.”

It was an understatement. Watching Geralt grow up and become a witcher was difficult enough. To see him each year, sometimes cocky and sometimes lean with a spark of fury burning through him was fascinating. Until he woke up sullen and quiet. Still a young man but so much more like what Jaskier knew.

“I should have been there,” Geralt murmured and looked at the other witchers. “We’re all that’s left.”

That evening was somber, Geralt leaning heavily against Lambert’s shoulder as they drank.

“It doesn’t get easier,” Lambert murmured darkly. “But you learn to live with it.”

The next day Geralt seemed better but the others were clearly suffering, unable to shake everything that each of Geralt’s birthdays was bringing up. And just when Jaskier thought things couldn’t get any worse, they did.

Things had been going vaguely okay in their own way. Injuries, aches and pains came and went. Until Geralt woke up and didn’t get out of bed. He was scarily thin, looking worn and in pain on a level beyond physical.

“Renfri,” Eskel had muttered and, without another word, slipped into Geralt’s bed, curled up behind him.

“The year the whole Butcher of Blaviken shit went down, Geralt didn’t come home for winter. Never did tell us where he went or what happened.” Lambert cast a look into the room where Eskel was holding a shaking Geralt. In the end, Vesemir brought them up food and drinks, a second serving for Geralt when he saw how emaciated he was. Everyone ended up curled together in Geralt’s bed that night, quietly grateful that Geralt did actually come back from that disaster.

Not that the next several days were much better. Gone was the cocky, confident Geralt. In his place was a ghost. He ate, he replied is spoken to but stayed out of the way. Lambert was the one to track him down to any hiding place and try to forcibly draw Geralt out.

“It’s what I wish I had done all those winters,” he admitted quietly in the dark one night.

When Geralt laughed about a week later, Vesemir looked ready to cry. He hurriedly excused himself to the kitchen and Jaskier followed.

“He’ll be back to his usual soon,” Vesemir said, trying to keep himself busy by starting on dinner preparations - only three hours too early. “It gets better from now.”

“What changed?”

“You came along.”

Sure enough, Geralt slowly blossomed again. Not at all like what he was, he was more thoughtful, much less likely to rise to Lambert’s asinine riling. But he was no longer a storm cloud haunting the halls of Kaer Morhen. Jaskier went from a terse “bard” to “Jaskier” to “Jask” and, in the end, he was “mine” which was a relief.

They lost track of the years, not like any of them knew exactly how old Geralt was. But the last few days of the spell were only trackable by the scars Geralt’s skin bore.

“Do you think it’s worn off?” Eskel asked one morning.

Geralt gave him a funny look. “What’s worn off?”

So probably not. It was another two days before Geralt sat up in the middle of the pile eyes wide and he growled.

“Fucking fae.”

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #lambert #eskel #vesemir #witcher wolf pack #long post #cw: blood and injuries #cw: witcher trials #tldr: geralt relives all his (unhappy) birthdays

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