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kohanayaki · 3 years

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.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 5

Harry confronts you with a familiar piece of suspiciously folded parchment, and you tell him the story of how you helped create it (mostly told through flashbacks taking place in the Marauders era).

LINKS: CH 1 CH 2 CH 3 CH 4 CH 5 CH 6 CH 7 CH 8

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Ch 5 .:Narrow Spaces and New Alliances:.

Your eyes drifted open slowly, the bright streams of sunlight coming in through your window strangely unbecoming of 12 Grimmauld Place. It took you a moment to get your bearings as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and remembered where you were. As you sat there, looking around Sirius' guest bedroom, last night's events all seemed to flood back to you at once. You groaned into the comforter, feeling your face burn as you recalled blatantly staring at his lips just minutes after crying into his shirt for at least half an hour.

Come on, get it together, you thought to yourself, you're here because Dumbledore summoned you, stay on task.

However, as soon as that memory left your head another replaced it, this one weighing heavier on your chest. You found yourself thinking back to your encounter with Severus. Well, as much as you could call it an 'encounter.' Even when you couldn't see him, you could feel him when you reached out to him with your mind. Severus was good at blocking legillemency— too good, in fact, because you would know the familiar force of his mental shield anywhere. You'd never felt it as powerful coming from anyone else. You almost laughed at the irony of it; the very thing he was trying to use to keep hidden was exactly what had given him away. That, and the smell of him, which took you back to the moment you'd first smelled that damn amortentia potion. . .

You tried to shake off the thought as you properly got out of bed and changed into some casual clothes. The next Order meeting wasn't until tomorrow afternoon, so you had the day mostly to yourself, but you knew the next time you were all in a room together you would have to address some things privately if you had any hope of working together efficiently. You gently padded down the wooden stairs, the door to Sirius' room still closed. He never was an early riser.

As you reached the kitchen you began to put a pot of coffee on when you heard someone approach the room, stalling in the kitchen entrance. You turned around to see Harry in the doorway.

“Morning,” you grinned, turning back to the counter and using your wand to bring some water to a boil, “Coffee? Tea?”

“Oh,” Harry said, a bit embarrassed you'd caught him in mid-thought, “no, I'm okay.”

“What's on your mind?” you asked.

“Um, I was wondering if you could tell me, I mean, if you have the time. . .” he trailed off, reaching for his back pocket, “well, the thing is, a few years ago I found—”

“Kreacher heard sounds coming from the kitchen and did not expect (Y/n)'s return,” Harry jumped at the house elf's sudden arrival, but you seemed unphased.

“Though master's half mudblood godson remains here,” the elf muttered to himself, “How many more days must it be?”

“Hello, Kreacher,” you greeted him, “nothing nasty about Harry, now, alright? Don't forget he's my godson too.”

“Of course,” Kreacher said, thickly sarcastic but with respect for you in his tone nonetheless. His permanent frown seemed to deepen, however, when he saw you next to the coffee maker. “(Y/n) of house (L/n) should not have to be using the kitchen. Mistress Black would have wept to see a pureblood use muggle equipment. If (Y/n) requires refreshment Kreacher will have it ready.”

“There's no need for that,” you said, “Besides, it's done already, see? You can go on now.”

Kreacher squinted at the cup you poured for yourself. “Always peculiar,” he grumbled, stalking away at your request and muttering to himself all the while.

“He's oddly. . . nice to you,” Harry said, green eyes quizzical behind his round-framed glasses.

“He is,” you chuckled.

“But, well, you're—”

“A blood traitor?” you gave him an easy smile when you saw his expression, easing his fears that he'd actually offended you. “I know,” you said, “he's been through a lot, it's complicated. Trust me, he wasn't always like this to me. It takes time. And it doesn't hurt to be nice to him either.”

Harry decided against bringing up that the nicest person that he knew to the house elf was Hermione, who Kreacher regularly called a 'mudblood wench,' but decided to focus on the 'taking time' part of your statement, wondering just how long this kind of progress took with the spiteful elf. Besides, you seemed to have some sort of history with him.

“Anyways, what was it you were saying?” you asked Harry.

“Oh, right,” he said, reaching back around him, “um, my friends Fred and George, you've met them?”

“Molly and Arthur's twins, of course,” you smiled, “little imps, they are. Those two could give your father and Sirius a run for their money.”

“Right!” Harry said, “well, that's sort of the point. They're the ones who gave me this.”

As you turned around to face him you stalled mid-stir, nearly dropping your mug as you did. Even as a piece of blank parchment you knew what it was, the distinctive accordion folds that met in the center giving it away.

“How in the world. . .” you trailed off as Harry handed it to you, “but Filch—”

“Didn't do a very good job of hiding it, apparently,” Harry finished, “I thought you might want to do the honors?”

You nodded wordlessly, a pang of unexpected emotion hitting you as you pressed your wand to the map's center.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

The faded, brown ink showed itself as its protection charm was washed away, revealing the nostalgia-inducing inscription scrawled in your respective handwritings:

Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs, and Fangs are proud to present: The Marauders Map

“Do Remus and Sirius know you have this?” you asked Harry, who nodded.

“Professor Lupin gave it back to me third year before he left Hogwarts,” he said, “but he never told me anything about it after that.” he seemed deep in thought for a moment before looking up at you. “If everyone else is who I think it is, you're Fangs, right?”

It was your turn to nod now.

“I always wondered, how did you do it?” Harry said, hardly containing his curiosity, and you couldn't help but think how much he looked like James in that moment. “How does it work? What sort of magic did you use? All the secret passageways, how did you find them?”

“Alright, slow down,” you laughed lightly, giving in, “I suppose there's no harm in telling you.”

Harry brightened at that, bounding into the living room and taking a seat on the couch as if to say 'we've got all day,' which you did. It warmed your heart to see him so excited, this was one of the only ways he could get to know his parents— through the stories that remained from the people who loved them. If you could help the picture of his family in his mind become a bit clearer, you would tell him any story he wanted to know. He deserved that much after everything he'd been through.

You took a seat opposite him, still nursing your cup of coffee.

“Well,” you said, “it's a long story, starting with how bad those lot were at keeping secrets. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1974 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Run!” James half shouted half laughed as Filch hobbled after the four of them. Sirius nearly bit his tongue trying to keep in his laughter as the Caretaker slung insults and promises of punishment their way, cat ears and a tail freshly sprouted from his body.

“I can't believe we actually did that,” Sirius cackled, keeping easy pace with James.

“I can't believe you dragged me into this,” Remus panted, his current body not lending itself well to physical activity. For once he actually wished he was a werewolf right about now.

“I don't know if I can keep up,” Peter wheezed, falling behind.

“Oh come on,” James said, grabbing his sleeve and helping him run, “we can out run a gummy-legged old prat like him.”

“I don't know, he's faster than he looks,” Remus pointed out as Filch rounded the corner behind them.

“Damn,” James cursed under his breath, “we'll lose him if we can make it to the one-eyed-witch passageway.”

“We'll never activate it in time,” Remus countered.

“The hallway behind the third floor tapestry?” Peter suggested.

“No, Filch knows about that one now,” Sirius said.

“Why the hell didn't you bring your cloak?” Remus huffed.

“Well getting caught wasn't supposed to be part of the plan, but someone had to let out a laugh before we could get out!”

“Just save your air and sprint!” Sirius hissed.

The extended run time was starting to catch up to all of them now, and when they'd made a wrong turn to a blocked off corridor they thought they were done for.

“Hey, morons, over here!”

Four heads snapped towards the sound of your whisper, but you were nowhere to be found. Suddenly, one of the light pillars began to shift, revealing a large crack in the wall just big enough for them to fit sideways.

No questions were asked with no time to waste, and the four boys clamored after one another so they could fit inside. Your magic moved the pillar back in place just in time, and you watched from your hiding spot as Filch reached the walled-off passage in surprise, grumbling as he looked around for the culprits behind you. You had to stifle a snicker as his cat ears lowered; was that growling coming from the back of this throat or did you imagine that? Eventually he stumbled off in frustration and you sighed.

“Alright, the coast is clear,” you said.

“Why did you help us?” James rose a brow, that signature shit-eating grin back on his face like it never left, “you haven't fallen in love with me since our truce, have you?”

“Dream on, Potter,” you rolled your eyes, pushing him out of the crevice and smirking as he tumbled to the floor.

“It seems like I'm always saving you nowadays,” you said, stepping out of the wall yourself with the rest of the boys following.

Remus was thoroughly confused, looking pointedly between you and Sirius. He knew you and James were pretty much friends now, but he also noticed that the hostile air that always seemed to be present with you and the elder Black had diminished. He'd even seen you two talking in the halls lately. Sirius gave him a look; he would explain what happened in the forest with Lucius to Remus later. Mostly he didn't want to admit that Remus was right about you not being so bad if he gave you a chance; you had actually been getting on pretty well since that night.

“You do realize it's no fun winning the house cup when you four practically make Gryffindor ineligible every year with all the shit you get up to, right?” you chuckled, “some competition would be nice for a change.”

“We'll see if you're singing the same tune when Quidditch season rolls around,” James said smugly.

“You're right,” you said, squaring up against him, “guess that's a new competition we've got going for us.”

It had recently been announced that you and James had both been selected to play Seeker for your respective houses next year. It was an arrangement that had the whole school talking, your rivalry turned (mostly) friendship now infamous, even if it was a recent occurrence.

“Hold on, how did you know that was there?” Peter asked you, pointing to the moving column, “even we didn't know about it.”

“Oh?” you crossed your arms, “and are you four supposedly some kind of all-knowing secret masters? Because clearly there's things you don't know about yet.”

Sirius slapped a hand over Peter's mouth before he could retaliate and give away what they've been working on.

“Yes, well, apparently,” he said, ignoring Peter's muffled protests.

You looked at them curiously, all four boys looking suspiciously nervous.

The next day at breakfast, James had brought up the idea of 'hiring' you to help them finish the map.

“I'm telling you, I think we can really make progress with their help,” he pitched, “they clearly know what they're talking about, and we know they can pull a hell of a prank from all the times they've gotten me.”

“How do we know they won't tell anyone?” Peter countered, “I don't know what's up with you, but you're trusting them too fast, James.”

“They're not the type that would tell,” Remus admitted.

“Oh, not you too!” Peter whined.

“I'm just saying, they'll likely appreciate what we've gathered so far and have a fair bit to add,” Lupin insisted, “it could be worth a try if you really want to finish it before we graduate—”

“Finish what?”

The four boys jolted upright, turning to see you and Lily.

“Are you guys okay?” Lily asked, concern written across her features.

“Of course!”

“Never better!”

“Why wouldn't we be?”

Remus just groaned at his friends' panicked answers. This was hopeless.

You and Lily shared a knowing look off the the side.

“Alright, whatever you say. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry laughed heartily,

“Wow, I mean, I know you said they were bad, but that bad?”

“For being expert pranksters who hardly ever managed to get caught, they were remarkably terrible at hiding things,” you said, chuckling along with him, “It didn't take us long to figure out they were up to something, although they seemed to think they were brilliant at covering it up, Remus had to burst their bubble eventually.”

Harry shook his head, smiling fondly and imagining all the scenes in his head as you continued your tale.

“So that was when they were first starting to put the map together,” you continued, “but that wasn't even the biggest secret they were hiding. Of course, I wouldn't find out about that for another year, but we'll get to that part of the story later. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1975 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This tastes awful,” Sirius complained, trying to ignore the plant prodding the under-side of his tongue.

“Well if you were expecting treacle toffee I'm sorry to disappoint,” James rolled his eyes, equally nauseated by the bitter tinge of the Mandrake leaf in his mouth.

“There's no way someone can do this for an entire month,” Peter said, “How do you brush your teeth? What if you accidentally swallow it when you're eating?”

“You three have fun with that,” Remus chuckled, flipping through an old library book and his mouth gratefully leafless.

“How about some gratitude, Moony?” James said, “We're doing this for you.”

“Please, you just want to see if you can turn into a dragon or something,” Lupin chortled, “and you don't actually have to go through with all this. Who knows if this animagus stuff will actually work.”

“Well, a dragon would suit me,” James mused, “but of course we're going to see this through, mate. You know we'd do anything for you.”

Remus smiled to himself, not responding and not needing to. He knew.

“Hey guys,” you grinned, walking up to the Gryffindor table.

Peter gulped suddenly in surprise as you came up behind him, and his eyes widened in horror.

“Shit!” he coughed out, “I-I swallowed it!”

“Your. . . food?” you questioned, glancing over at the boys who all had that same, vaguely panicked look about them.

“Okay, it was funny at first, but you guys have been acting weird since last year and now it's worrying,” you admitted.

The four looked between themselves and came to a sort of silent conclusion. Maybe in this scenario it was better to tell one secret to keep the other. And so, later that night, they told you to meet them after lights out so they could tell you what was really going on. You snuck out of your dorm room and made your way through the secret tunnel to the Gryffindor common room, a route you'd taken plenty of times to mess with James.

You pushed a loose panel of wood open, coming into the warmly lit space through one of the cabinets. You pushed an armchair that was half blocking your path out of the way as you crawled through the space.

“Blimey!” Sirius jumped, “give us a heads up, would you?”

“Sush,” Remus scolded him, “you really don't understand the concept of an inside voice, do you?”

“Alright, well I'm here,” you said, brushing off your robes, “now what's this big secret? This better not be a trick because I've been working on a new hex.”

“Nothing like that,” James assured you, “we've been working on something we think you might be interested in, if you're willing to contribute.”

He stepped to the side so you could see the floor where they'd been huddled around and your eyes widened.

“Merlin,” you said. The red and gold carpet was covered in at least forty different pieces of parchment. Pages upon pages overlapped with each other, each messily detailing a different part and level of the castle in scribbles of smudged ink. “This is. . .”

“The entirety of the Hogwarts castle and surrounding land,” Sirius said proudly, “complete with secret passageways.”

“This is our lives' work, (Y/n),” James said, “be impressed!”

“What impresses me most is how none of you have any sense of scale,” you said, sifting through the papers, “you should really condense this. Kind of hard to make any use of a map if you have to flip to page thirty-three to find the kitchens.”

“Point taken,” Remus said, “it could do with some reorganization.”

“And probably a bigger piece of paper,” you mentioned.

“Right, that. . .”

“That's not all there is to it, though,” Peter said, “Sirius?”

The curly haired boy stepped forward, pressing his wand to the center of the floor.

“Revelare Popularis,”

You watched in wonder as hundreds of names suddenly appeared across the pieces of paper, all students and faculty you recognized. They were scrawled in Sirius' handwriting, as if he'd written them himself.

“This spell shows where everyone in any location on this map is at this very moment,” he said, “It's not exact, and we've been working on variations.”

“So you can plan ahead without getting caught,” you mused, ��how'd you learn something as advanced as this, Black?”

“I get around,” Sirius shrugged, unabashedly showing off. Peter rolled his eyes.

“So, the only drawback, of course, is that the spell doesn't work in real time,” Remus said, “so by the time you get where you need to go. . .”

“People will have moved,” James finished, “we're willing to share this little trove of knowledge with you if you're willing to give up all the secret rooms, passages, and hiding places you know.”

“And we thought you may have a solution to our timing problem,” Remus said, “I could tell from our study sessions you quite enjoy learning ahead of your year.”

Your eyes scanned the pages, and you were admittedly impressed. There was ton of stuff on here you had no idea about, but you knew a fair amount was missing as well. It seemed like a fair trade.

“I'm in,” you said.

“What?” Peter blinked, “it was that easy?”

“This is a useful tool you've got,” you said, “I think we can all benefit from it being improved. And now that you mention it, I actually do think I've read about a similar spell to that paper charm. It was in some Gaelic tome in the restricted section on ancient magic. I'm not even sure it used a wand. It was called the Homunculus charm. From what I read it sounded like it acted as a live feed for people in any given location, clan leaders used it to plan ambushes and keep track of citizens. If we could link it to the entire castle. . .”

“We'd be able to see where everyone is—”

“And what they're doing—”

“—At every hour of every day!”

“True, albeit a bit stalkerish,” you quipped, “you let me in on this if I add in what I know, and you got yourself a deal.”

James put out his hand, and as tempted as you were to turn it green or make all the bones in it disappear, you reached out and shook it.

“I do believe this puts us in a formal alliance, Potter,” you said cheekily.

“I believe so,” James smirked.

“Terrifying,” Remus chuckled, “This school won't even know what hit it.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” James said with a cheshire grin, “let's steal ourselves a book, shall we?”

Read chapter 6 here!

Taglist: @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy @calaryssia @aleksanderwh0r3 @mialupin1

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natashxromanovf · 3 years

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Follow up ask because I forgot the plot (sorry).

What about instead of going into the ice, Steve is found by the girl he's in love with and never had the chance to confess his feelings. And obviously after everything he's been through he needs to be taken care of for a while and he can't believe his luck that she's the one who does it. Does that make sense? Shdnj this is like my second time requesting something, if it's silly, feel free to ignore it <333

The Loss

40s!Steve Rogers x gn!reader

Word count: 596

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of crying

A/N: I hope you like this, Monique! Please don’t come at me cause I pretty much changed the whole request but yours is still in there somewhere. I’m sorry it took so long but here it is :) thank you for the request, I really appreciate it <3

Finding Steve in the ice was one of the happiest moments you’ve ever experienced. After talking to him through the comms, hearing him say his final goodbye it was the first day you could take a breath because he’s safe. He’s with you and he’s safe. It’s all that mattered, holding him in your arms, knowing he’s okay - it still doesn’t relieve the pain from Bucky’s death though. He was a dear friend to both of you, his loss breaking something in you. There’s a hole in your hearts where his place was, where he was supposed to be. This is why Steve’s near-death experience hurt even more; after losing James you couldn’t bear to lose him too.

“Let me help you,” you say as you try to fix Steve’s tie, smoothing out the black suit he was wearing after. Your hands stop at his chest, leaving them there for a little bit as you take a breath, trying to compose yourself. Today is a special day - Bucky’s funeral. It’s by no means a happy one but having Steve beside you reminds you that not everything is black. You don’t even want to think about the fact that you nearly had to organize two funerals.

“It’s okay,” Steve starts, taking you in his arms, a tear escaping your eyes. “I miss him too, I miss him so much.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you apologize, wiping away the tear. “We both do, it’s not fair of me to cry, he wouldn’t have wanted this,”

“Yeah, I remember when we had to promise him that we wouldn’t cry if something happens,” he states, a small smile appearing on his face as he plays the memory in his head. “And he was right. We have to remember him by the good things, the good memories we have, not only grieve his loss. He knew the risks when he joined the army and even though it doesn’t make anything better, he at least died for a good cause,” Steve finishes, a deep inhale and then exhale heard from you as you manage to keep the tears at bay, thinking about the words that were spoken mere seconds ago.

The evening rolls around pretty quickly, people leaving, Steve and you the only ones left. You agreed to stay a little longer, trying to get some time alone with Bucky - well, his grave at least, they never discovered his body.

“Do you think he would be happy for us?” you suddenly ask, taking Steve’s hand and pressing a sweet kiss there.

“I think he always knew,” Steve replies, a sad smile appearing on his face. “And yes, I think he would be happy we finally figured it out,”

“You know, sometimes being with you feels like a dream I never want to wake up from. You always know what to say,” you claim, leaning back into his hold. It’s warm and inviting, the exact opposite of the air around you, colder and heavier than usual. This loss was a great one for everyone, not just for the two of you - people loved him even though he knew how to be a pain in the arse sometimes. So much happened in the last year you can’t even keep up with everything. From the war to almost losing everyone you love, it’s just too much. But you’re glad something good came out of it, even if you don’t feel happy at all right now. Yet you know that because you have him, everything will be okay. Just like he promised.

I hope you enjoyed this piece! As always, feedback is very much appreciated <3

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers #marvel imagine #marvel drabble #marvel fluff

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jeonsblackgf-writes · 3 years

Text

BULLSHIT || 2 ||

summary: marco and lani had been friends since the womb but when occurring lies happen from one best friend to another, things are bound to fall apart.

pairing: marco peña x black!OC

genre: angst

word count: 1.7k

_____________________________________________🖊

If someone told Lani that she and Marco would have had the worst fall out of their lives she would have laughed in their face. She would have told them that'll never happen because what she and Marco had was something worth keeping...now she's starting to wonder if that's true or not.

Lani stopped counting the days they were apart because there was no use anymore after she literally watched Elle and Marco kiss on national television just few days after finding out that she was being blown off because of some dancing game competition since Lee couldn't do it. She had managed to become a pro at dodging Marco. She knew his schedule just like he knew hers, so she left class a few minutes early or left class later than usual just to avoid him. She kept her guard up for the entire time, and it hadn't failed her once. She just couldn't bear to see his face... not now. She knew what she was doing probably wasn't rational, but it was time for her to start thinking about her own feelings and not others, especially Marco's. She had spent the past few years standing by his side, taking the racist bullcrap from his previous girlfriends without a word because she never wanted Marco's judgement about them to change. Now her judgement about him was changing. She never knew him as the type to fall for someone who was already taken, but what does she know...he stopped telling her things.

The worst slap in the face for her was two weeks after her outburst on him, she saw him with another female having the time of his life. Her heart dropped because he used to smile at her the same way he's smiling at her. So much for being remorseful.

"You can't avoid him forever Lani." Kammy sighed as she watched her friend survey the halls for the certain dark haired boy. Lani huffed, and slumped her shoulders.

"I know, but I don't want to see him right now. Not after he lied to me, kissed Elle, and got cozy with another female." She mumbled, going to her locker, but stopping once she saw him standing right there, searching the crowd of students for her. She widened her eyes and immediately grabbed Kammy's hand and went in the other direction hoping he didn't see them.

"Why did you do that? That was your chance to speak with him." Kammy hissed, watching Marco's frantic figure behind her.

"Well I don't fucking want to!" Lani hissed, sharply turning away from kammy to get to class, leaving her in the hall.

Kammy sighed and pull out her phone to send a quick message.

To Marco: Just go, she won't come.

She placed her phone back in her pocket and followed her friend down the long hall, finally catching up to her right before she got in the elevator.

"Look," Kammy sighed, "I love you, and I didn't mean to make you upset back there, but I just don't want 18 years of friendship to go down the drain. You guys have literally been attached at the hip since birth. You're gonna let that go because of some girl?"

"When me and him started high school, we made a pact to always tell each other everything and to never lie because we know how much high school can change a person. We grabbed a piece of glass and cut the palm of our hands and made a blood pact to make it official." Lani explained quietly, showing her friend the long scar on her hand. Kammy gasped and rubbed the rough feeling of it. She didn't have anything to say so she just let Lani speak.

"I never wanted to let us go...but he gave me no choice when he lied and put his feelings over mine." Lani whispered, right before the elevator chimed. She walked out and ran right into the person that caused all this mess in the first place....Elle.

"Lani...would it be okay if we spoke for a minute?" She asked, redness showing up on her cheeks. Lani scrunched her face up and pushed Elle out of her way so she could get to class but the brunette was persistent, she grabbed Lani's arm and gave her pleading eyes.

"What could we possibly talk about? You got Marco what else do you want? My soul?" She spoke sarcastically, snatching her arm away. Elle sighed.

"I know you guys have been best friends for a really long time, longer than Lee and I. He isn't the same without you and he won't stop talking about you, he regrets everything." Elle explained, almost desperately, but Lani didn't know if she wanted to hear it or not.

"I bet he didn't regret kissing your ass that night. Everyone in this school knew about my feelings for him, even you, yet you still kissed him on tv for millions to see while your boyfriend was sitting in the crowd. I'd be surprised if he still wanted you after that shit." Lani hissed, with no ounce of sarcasm. She watched as Elle stood staring at her awkwardly with wide eyes.

It wasn't just the situation with elle, it was the situation with every female, whether or not they were Marco's girlfriends. It was just a constant shit show when it came to her, and she never had time fir herself because she was so invested in being his bestfriend...the guy she made a blood pact with, the guy she promised to go to the same college with. She had always wanted more but he had always kept her around as some sort of unofficial wing woman and she had always wanted to be something else.

"Lani please...talk to him." Kammy pleaded.

"I need more time, I really don't know what to tell you." She sighed, about to turn around but the sound of Marco's voice made her freeze in her tracks. She snapped her neck towards Kammy and rapidly took her hand, "We have to go! NOW!"

Kammy shook her head disapprovingly, and stood her ground. "You have to stop running! It hasn't done you any good but make you even more depressed."

Lani sighed and glared at Elle as she turned to see the frantic eyes of her almost ex best friend. Giving the two time along, Elle and Kammy went their separate ways on opposite ends of the hall, meanwhile Lani fully turned to Marco to see nothing but desperate and pleading eyes.

"You aren't gonna say anything? You just gone stare?" Lani asked, wanting the conversation to be over with already. She was already late for class, she didn't want another reason to be upset today.

Marco sighed, realizing how hard this was now that she was willing to speak with him, "I-I'm sorry, and yes I know it's been long overdue, but I've had time to reflect--"

"Well I'm gonna need more time." Lani spat at him, weariness in her voice. Marco visibly frowned at the sight of her trying not to cry.

"Please, I'm walking out on a limb here talking to you. We've been best friends since forever, please don't throw it all down the drain because of a small mistake I did. I miss you, I swear it and I know when you see me when the hall, you think I don't miss you but I do and I think about you every single day. That day when you told me you were in love with me, it made me realize something much more bigger than us being best friends." He damn near cried, but she still wasn't convinced. Lani needed actions not words.

"A small mistake? You still don't get it..so let me break it down to you...yes I am still in love with you, I don't think I'll ever stop but I won't be a fool to your games ANYMORE. You knew I had a soft spot for you and you always took advantage of that! I was there for you through so much and was always there when one of your little racist ass girlfriends left when shit got tough. I invested my life into making sure you were happy and you never did the same for me! I sacrificed myself SO DAMN MUCH, and for what? Just to be shit on in the end! This one situation with Elle isn't the first one but it's sure as hell the last one...y-you kissed her...you kissed her just a week after you knew my feelings for you and I don't think I'll ever forget that. I gave you up on purpose, not because I don't care but because you didn't." She cried, trying not to raise her voice since she was in the hall and later as hell for class.

"What can I do? Just tell me what to do and I'll do it." He pleaded, grabbing both her hands within his, tears streaming down his face but Lani pulled away from him and stepped back a few steps. He knew her next words, but he was praying to god she didn't say it.

"I want you go give me time to myself and stay the hell away from me! That's all I ask." She mumbled as she looked at the ground, wiping her tears from her face.

"You know me well enough to know that I'm not gonna leave you alone. You're crazy to even think that!" He protested, almost bellowing in the hallway. Lani sighed and shook her head.

"Why? Why won't you leave me the FUCK alone?" She croaked, her voice cracking.

"Because I'm in love with you too, and I need to fix this!"

Lani gasped. Hearing his next several words made her heart jump but this isn't the way she wanted to hear a confession. Marco searched for something within her eyes but the only thing he was getting was pure shock and disbelief.

"I'm gonna go home. Lose my number Marco seriously. " She spoke barely above a whisper before waking away from him and going down the opposite end of the hallway. Marco watched as she continued to walk until she hit the corner. He sighed, as he knew she was going to skip the rest of her class for the day and go home to sleep.

"What the fuck am I gonna do now?" He whispered to himself, his breathe becoming heavier as he tried not to cry. Suddenly, an idea sprang in his head, making him smile. He ran to class with the thought on his mind.

——————————————————————————-

tag list: @mansaaay

#black reader #black!reader #interracial #x black reader #marco peña #angst #the kissing booth #high school #bwwm couples #bwwm love #bwwm relationships

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jiaraendgame · 4 years

Note

Hi! Can you write a little blurb about Rafe?? Maybe like his reaction to you deep cleaning your guys’ apartment and maybe you found a number or something? And he reassures you that it’s not what you think?? Idk something like that. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, thank you!

Wires Crossed Rafe x Reader

A/N: Lovely anon I’m sorry this took two days to finish up! Thank you so much for being the first person ever to ask me for a blurb! I had planned for it to be done way sooner, but uh I got a bit carried away. I am not good at writing anything small so oops! This is lowkey no longer a little blurb as requested but a full imagine/fic I hope you like this little adventure!

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of past drug abuse, baby angst, fluff, domestic Rafe. Non-canon Rafe IE he isn’t a murderer. Probs out of character a bit cause I lowkey usually write the psycho mean Rafe so this was a challenge but I enjoyed it!

Word Count: 3k+

It was no surprise you were up before Rafe was. You’d always been an early riser. However, when you awoke right as the sun just began to kiss your cheeks through the blinds, you knew you’d be waiting quite some time for your sleepy boyfriend to join you for the day. You look up at Rafe’s soft face. Mouth slightly ajar as faint hums of breath leave his lips. He looked so saintly at this moment. You didn’t want to disturb him, so you attempted to slip from his arms, but the motion caused the boy to stir. Curse his light sleeping, you thought. The boy's eyes softly fluttered open and gazed down at you as he instinctively pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Good morning, angel…” his voice slurred in its sleepy tone. “Where are you going so early this morning? It’s barely even…” He glances at the clock sitting on the nightstand. “Baby… it’s barely even 6:30am, don’t leave me yet.” He whines as he wraps his arms back around your torso.

You giggle at the pout on his face as he reels you in burying his face in your neck. You can feel his breath on your skin, tempting you to lay here with him for a moment longer. However, you knew if you didn’t get up now, you’d be late for the events Rafe had planned for the day.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, babe, I was just trying to prepare for today. Seeing as you haven’t told me any of the events you had in store. I need to be ready for anything with you.” A light giggle escapes your lips.

“ Just close your eyes again love, you can drift back off for a while, and in another hour or so, you can join me, okay? Just because I’m up doesn’t mean you have to be.”

“But baby doll, I want to make sure you are rested for the day I have planned. You know me and the boys can get a bit chaotic, I don’t need you getting worn out because of us.”

It’s true whenever Topper and Kelce visited from the Outer Banks, you were sure in for a rush of excitement that often ended up tiring you out. Unfortunately, you were the type of person who once you were awake, there was no way for you to fall back asleep. Even if you are comfortable and safe in the arms of your love.

The boy was drifting back to sleep, and you used this as your opportunity to free yourself from his loving grip. One more sleepy glance and sigh, leaving Rafe’s lips. He knew he has lost this battle.

“Looks like you’re the one who will need the rest babe, just sleep a bit more I will be out in the living room when you are ready to get up.” You whisper to Rafe placing a soft but chaste kiss to his lips. “Sweet dreams, my sleepy boy.”

He smiles as you pull away, “I’ll be dreaming of you, angel.” With that, it was not long before Rafe had fallen back into his slumber. You raise from the bed as softly as you can silently leave the bedroom, closing the door with a subtle click. Today was shaping up to be interesting if Rafe was this lovey-dovey in his sleepy state.

Looking around your small apartment, you began to realize that neither of you had cleaned for days. There was glassware and other miscellaneous dishes piled in the sink. Books and papers spread across the breakfast bar from your late-night study session. But the worst culprit was the living room. There were clothes on the floor next to the almost toppling hamper and throw blankets splayed across the back of the futon.

It’s not that you and Rafe were messy, quite the opposite usually, but as of late with everything going on, you both let your daily tasks slip your minds. The small one-bedroom apartment looked as if a tornado blew through it, and thus you found your distraction to keep you occupied until Rafe was ready to go to brunch. Topper and Kelce were visiting from the Outer Banks, and you couldn’t have them see your apartment in this state. Even if they were used to more luxurious accommodations, you didn’t want them to feel uncomfortable in your home. These were Rafe’s best friends, after all, you had to remind them that you could hang with the best of them even if you lacked the money they had.

Even though you had been with Rafe going on 3 years now, you worried you weren’t good enough for him. So you always went the extra mile to impress the people in his life. Even though you didn’t have to. Rafe loved you for you, and you found each other at the right time. You saved Rafe from his downfall of addiction. Taking him in when his father kicked him out. Saving him from himself and ultimately helping him grow as a person. He uplifted you and motivated you to work towards your dreams that you once believed would amount to nothing. He proved to you that you were worth more than the words of hate that your mother spewed to you daily. He pushed you to achieve the best, and now you are going for your degree in criminal justice. The final push you needed to go for your goal was witnessing Rafe break down when his father was sentenced for murder. That nearly sent the boy over the edge, but you pulled him back, and that was when Rafe knew you were the one. You two were like a puzzle that just clicked, fitting into place so perfectly it was frightening for both of you.

Sighing at the chores in front of you, you decide to tackle the kitchen first, cleaning the dishes while simultaneously getting water everywhere. This is why Rafe was in charge of the dishes. You always seemed to make more of a mess than you planned to. Rafe would always joke that you weren’t meant to be a housewife. After cleaning up the dishes and mopping up the new mess you created on the floor, your first task was done. Before wiping down the counters, you cleaned off and organized your notes and books from the breakfast bar. These were the times you really wished you had a house with its own study, much like Rafe’s childhood home. It was evident with the two of you living together for so many years that you started to run out of space. As you cleaned, things began to feel better, the atmosphere calmer.

You threw on a pot of coffee so it would be ready for when Rafe woke up, knowing he needed his caffeine before facing the day. Let’s just say if he didn’t get his morning cup, he was the poutiest and grumpiest of bears all day. You giggled to yourself, thinking back to the first time Rafe stayed over with you. You never drank coffee. It wasn’t your beverage of choice, but boy did you quickly invest in a small coffee maker when you saw him without caffeine. He stumbled out of your bedroom, groggy rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and subconsciously raided your cabinets for a mug. The shock on his face when you told him you didn’t drink coffee still makes you chuckle. He whined at you like a child until you took him to the nearest Starbucks. He was cute when he was grumpy, but boy did his childlike manner know how to get under your skin. This boy was no morning person.

Out in the living room, you started to gather up the throw blankets and folded them neatly, placing them inside the ottoman next to the futon. Sighing, you knew you had to attack the mountain of laundry next. You gathered the near toppling hamper and dragged it to the door so it would be ready to run down to the laundromat, but you couldn’t leave the excess pile on the floor. You grabbed an empty basket and started throwing clothes into it. A mix of sweatshirts, pants, polos, and crop tops quickly filled the small wicker basket The remaining items left behind are a pair of your jean shorts followed by a pair of Rafe’s khakis.

You picked up Rafe’s tan khaki shorts, and they feel heavier than normal. You dig your hand into his pockets and pull out the spare apartment keys that hung on a lanyard. Setting them on the table, you notice a torn piece of paper had slipped to the floor. You pick it up and see a number scribbled out on it. That was odd.

Why did Rafe have a random number in his shorts? Why didn’t he just keep it on his phone if he needed it? Who’s number was this? Was he using again? Your head spiraled, and panic set it. There was no way he’d hurt you, right? Not after everything you’ve two have been through. He loved you, right? You loved him.

You knew better than to panic, but those three little words swallowed your heart when you thought of Rafe, and if there was any chance, he didn’t feel the same you had to know. Against your better judgment, you pull your phone off the charger and start to dial the number. Hesitating before pressing send.

Ring

Click...

“Hello?”

You gulp at the sound of a sickeningly sweet voice that answered the phone.

“Uhm yeah hi, sorry, but w-who is this?”

“This is Stacey, who is this?” The sweet voice sounded just as confused as your thoughts were.

“I found this number in my b-“ you pause before finishing your sentence. Instead, opting for asking what you need to know.

“Do you know Rafe Cameron?” You blurt out the string of words connected by one fast breath.

“Oh! Rafe! Yes, of course, I know him. He’s such a cutie!” The voice rang out with a giggle.

“We spent some wild times together back in the day, but anyways I never caught your name or why you’re calling actually.” She spoke a hazed tone to her voice.

The line was silent. You didn’t know what to say or think anymore. Only one thought rang in your head. Rafe was cheating on you.

Before Stacey could speak again, you hung up the phone. A mix of hurt and angry tears slipping from your sockets. You couldn’t believe he did this. All the times he told you you were his only one had all been lies. Nothing made sense, and throwing 3 years of a relationship down the drain hurt more than you could have ever imagined.

You loved this boy with all your heart, and he shattered yours. Your emotions took over as if you were on autopilot. You watched your actions unfold from within. You picked up the basket of clothes and stormed into the bedroom. The doorknob hit the wall startling the sleeping boy, but before he could realize what was going on, you dumped the clothes onto him in a huff.

“Did ya lose something, babe?” You seethe through your teeth.

The groggy boy wiping sleep from his eyes stutters out, barely coherent words.

“Wh-What? What’s going on? Baby, are you okay?”

You scoff at Rafe, “Am I okay? Ha! I’d be a lot better if I had never found this fall out of your pocket this morning, asshole.”

You ball up and chuck the torn paper at Rafe, who looks from your beet-red face back to the paper. Eyes going wide at your discovery.

“You’re such an asshole, you know that? I can’t believe after everything you’d stoop so low Rafe Cameron.”

“I really fucking thought you’d changed, that you weren’t some arrogant prick who begged the world to praise the ground you walked on, but I guess I was wrong. Can take the boy from the Kooks but can’t take the Kook out of the boy.” You spat your words out.

“N-no baby, you don’t understand hold on just let me explain!”

“Explain what? That you cheated on me with some bitch named Stacey? That you held my heart in your hand and knowingly crushed it just to get your rocks off? Pathetic Rafe truly and utterly pathetic!”

Rafe was visibly upset, looking at you through glassy eyes. He didn’t want you to be hurt. That’s the last thing he wanted, but there was no way you’d listen to him that this was all just a big misunderstanding.

“Baby doll, please just take a few breaths. This is not what you think.” He sweeps his arms up and pulls your hands into his. You sit on the edge of the bed, avoiding his gaze.

“I swear to you I would never in my life do anything to hurt you. Babe, how could I? I love you more than anyone on this godforsaken planet.”

You looked over to Rafe, the anger you held, turning to pure sadness. You didn’t know what to think, so all you could do was listen.

He rubbed circles with his thumbs on the backs of your hands. Holding you tight. “You’re my person, baby doll. My only person. You came into my life when I was so lost. You picked me up when my father kicked me out. You got me to get clean and was with me through all the relapsing and withdrawals. You never left my side. Always faithful. I would never dream of breaking your heart when you’re the one who found mine.”

You sigh a shaky breath and look into your beautiful boyfriend's eyes, still just as lost, but you knew what he said was real. The warmth in your heart grew once more. Leaning into his touch, you speak with a sheepish tone.

“If this is a misunderstanding, then tell me the honest truth, Rafe. Who is Stacey, and why did you have her number?”

Rafe cups your face with his hands and looks you straight in the eyes.

“Y/N, I love you, okay?”

He waits a minute, and getting no response from you, he continues.

“Stacey is one of Sarah’s old friends from the Banks. We hung out a bit back in the day, but that was years ago. She was a big partier and a bit of an enabler. We would both do lines together and raise a bit of hell, but honestly, that's all our friendship was.”

“Okay... why are you talking to her now?”

“Well, baby, Sarah gave me her number because Stacey runs a well known... uh, business.” The hesitation in your boy's voice makes you wince. Was he lying again?

“And what kind of business are we talking about? Rafe, you told me you’d be honest. I-I can’t take the lying, please just be straight with me here.”

Rafe sighed as he was about to come clean, but luck was on his side. You hear the rough knock knock knock come from the front of the apartment. Your guests were here. You knew this was his escape plan now, hoping you wouldn’t bring anything up in front of his friends. Usually, he’d be right, but this time you weren’t letting him off the hook. Not with how hurt you were feeling.

Rafe and you both stepped towards the door, opening it to see two smiling faces. Topper and Kelce looked strangely eager.

“My boys! You couldn’t have come at a better time!” The shirtless and sweat-panted boy spoke ushering his friends in.

They exchanged hugs and a few quick whispers as you stood back arms crossed.

“So, do you two know about Stacey?” The words fall out of your mouth.

They look at her and back to Rafe, concern in their eyes.

“Uhh, I mean, we know Stacey from back in the day,” Kelce spoke openly.

“Yeah she was pretty cool, I wonder what she’s doing nowadays. Don’t see her around the Banks anymore, really.” Topper adds.

“Oh, I’ll tell you what she’s been up to. Her and Rafe have been talking ain’t that right handsome?”

Rafe sighs, eyeing the boys. Before he could speak again, you spoke up.

“So to continue our conversation, Rafe, what business is Stacey in, and why you have any interest in it?”

The two boys are wide-eyed. “Y/N really, there is something you're missing here.”

“Yeah, a real misunderstanding!”

“Oh, not you guys too! I can’t believe this. Why don’t you see what’s happened is wrong?”

“Baby doll, can I just say one more thing before you make up your mind in what has happened?”

“Fine... this better be good, Cameron.”

Rafe quickly turns to his boys, huddled up like they were having a meeting. Mumbles exchanged. Through the hushed tones, you managed to catch Topper asking Rafe if he was sure this was the right time and him replying he had no choice he couldn’t lose you.

Rafe turns around and looks you in the eyes, his hand hidden behind his back.

“Y/N, you mean the absolute world to me. You are my everything. You balance me in ways I never knew possible, and every day I wake up, I realize I love you more and more. I’ve grown so much with you in my life, and I wouldn’t beg for it to change. I want our lives to continue to keep growing together. I want our adventures to bring us to crazy places. I want to wake up every day with no doubt in my mind that you are truly and perfectly my girl. Forever. So please listen to me when I say, everything you are feeling right now is so incredibly false. I would never do anything to intentionally harm you. I love you so damn much Y/N, and that’s why I need to know...”

There is a pause as Rafe swiftly drops to his knee. Your mouth hangs open in complete shock. You are stunned at the sight in front of you as he brings his arm out front and opens up a small black velvet box. Inside, a dainty silver band holds a shining crystal clear diamond. Topper and Kelce beam behind the boy kneeling anxious for the next words that fall from his lips.

“Will you marry me?” Rafe’s eyes glass over once more, but not from hurt like earlier but with pure and resounding love for the girl in front of him.

Tears begin to slip from your eyes. You can’t believe you ever thought Rafe would take away all you have built together in the last three years. You felt the guilt in your stomach whirl. Unsure if you can accept the love and admiration coming from the boy you love knelt in front of you.

“Rafe... I am so... so incredibly sorry.” You sob out hands covering your face.

Rafe is up in seconds encasing you in his arms, laying a kiss on your hairline.

“Shh baby doll, it’s okay, I promise. I’m here. It’s okay, love. Don’t be sorry. I know it looked suspicious. I just wanted to surprise you.”

“I-I still don’t understand.”

Rafe chuckles a bit before explaining.

“My love, Stacey is an old friend from Outer Banks. She and Sarah are still pretty tight. And she happens to be in the business of custom jewelry... she makes some of the best work on the east coast.”

Realization dawns on you once more at how terribly you read the situation.

“I was in contact with her cause I wanted to make my girl a custom ring that was one of a kind, just for you and no one else. That’s part of the reason the boys came up. So they could deliver the ring to me.”

“I can’t believe I was so worked up, oh my god baby. I’m so sorry I never wanted to be the jealous girl, but I was just so, so heartbroken at the thought of losing you... I can’t lose you, babe.”

You stand silently inhaling the scent of the love of your life who you screamed at for trying to surprise you with the best gift you’ve ever received.

“So... does that mean she said yes or?” Topper and Kelce chuckle trying to defuse the awkward tension in the room.

You erupt into laughter, and so does Rafe. You wrap your hands around his neck, pulling his lips down to yours.

“Forever and always, baby... yes, I’ll marry you.” At that moment, you encompass him in a deep kiss, not caring you had company in the room. You were hungry for his love and embrace more than ever before.

You couldn’t wait to live the rest of your life with Rafe, and who knew what the future held for you both. One thing was for sure you would tackle it together face on because nothing mattered to you more than the bliss you felt for your one true love.

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luvhyjr · 4 years

Text

A truth and a lie

member: han jisung ft. yang jeongin

genre: high school au, friends to lovers au; fluff, slight angst (?)

word count: 887

a/n: i was supposed to post yesterday but i wasn’t able to write huhu. this was in my drafts and it was from quite a long time ago so oops. not proofread.

The truth is heavier than a lie, and that is true. The reason why we lie is all because we want to hide the truth, maybe even bury it in the mountains and under the ground where no one can possibly find out. But of course, there’s a weight you have to bear, and it gets heavier the longer it’s hidden, especially when it comes to the heart.

And that’s what made Jisung roam out and about the classroom for the 89th time today. Yes, Jeongin with his bottle of Yakult kept count.

Thankfully, the classroom is empty, with the exception of the two polar opposites inside, since it was break time. Jisung just wouldn’t have a break though.

“Jisung, can you stop? Why are you so worried?” Jeongin groaned. The first few rounds of Jisung prancing around was funny, especially since he’s always a happy kid. To be serious? That’s non-existent in Jisung’s world. So when Jisung was getting worked up with his scrunched up face, Jeongin just sat back and relaxed on his chair and enjoying this entertainment.

But not when Jisung’s might even be going around for the hundredth time. “It is, Jeongin. What if Y/n gets asked out again for the upcoming prom?”

Jeongin placed his drink on the table as things are starting to get interesting. “That’s it?”

“What do you mean that’s it?” Jisung finally stopped walking around as he stood in front of Jeongin. Jeongin’s eyes can finally take a break.

“You’re this bothered all because your best friend might get asked out for prom?”

“It’s not might, Jeongin. It’s will. Don’t you know how many guys asked her out last year? It’s frustrating to just be by her side and watch her get asked out as if I’m not there. They would ask her out at the classroom, library, the hallways, outside-“

Jeongin took his drink and sipped from the straw as Jisung continued. How funny love is. All it takes to break the cheery-merry-joyful-carefree-resident Han Jisung is to make him jealous. It’s his fault he had to keep his feelings for you a secret for a long time. How amusing.

When Jisung finally stopped his complaining which Jeongin paid no attention to, he set his Yakult on the table. “You know, you can just ask Y/n to be your fake date because to make your ‘crush’ jealous and in the end the both of you actually date for real.”

Jisung clapped his hands as he nodded, “Wow, how come I’ve never thought of that.” He put his hands on his hips and continued, “That’s a bad idea. Come on, that’s only in books you read!”

“I watch movies, Jisung.”

“Exactly! Movies are unrealistic, especially in rom-coms.”

Silence filled the room as Jeongin looked at Jisung with expecting eyes. “What?” Jisung muttered.

“I know you’re a sucker for rom-coms than me, and I know that you think I have a great idea,” Jeongin stood up as the bell rang and placed his hand on Jisung’s shoulder in assurance, “You can do it.” He smiled as he left the classroom to throw his now-empty drink and students started to come in.

“’Sung, there you are!” Jisung turned his head from the voice he could recognize even if his eyes were closed. He just didn’t need to know who in order to tell. “What’s the matter?” You asked when you saw his agonizing gaze.

It’s time. “Uh, um, I was wondering if us- I mean, you…” Jisung ‘s eyes looked around the room and noticed Jeongin sitting down, sipping on his second bottle of Yakult as he watched the scenario in front of him like it’s another rom-com movie. How scary. He looks innocent yet intimidating at the same time.

“’Sung?”

“Ah, yeah,” your voice brought back his attention as he stared at your curious eyes. “Can you pretend to be my date?”

Oh, that slipped off his mouth. That was a mistake. He shouldn’t have followed, no, listened to Jeongin’s word of advice that obviously came out from a movie plot.

“No,” you replied lowly. That’s it, if only he could jump out the window and disappear into nowhere, and maybe if it was a movie, he would go back in time or maybe even go into another dimension- “Can we not pretend?”

Jisung blinked once, twice, and thrice. “What?”

“I like you, actually. And that’s the truth. I think it’s obvious though.” Jisung couldn’t bring himself to reply He never expected this to happen, moreover you, his best friend, asking him out? “Can we not pretend to date? Can we date for real?”

“Is he dumb or is he stupid?” Jeongin mumbled as he casually waited for what’s to happen, frustrated that he can’t even skip 10 seconds for this scene.

“Yeah, sure.”

Jeongin abruptly stood up from his chair and clapped, catching the attention of the class. “Don’t mind me, go on,” he smiled.

Jisung took a hold of your hand hoping that it could calm down his beating heart, “I like you too, Y/n. For a long time actually. I can’t believe I hadn’t told you sooner-“ And Jisung continued on and on with his feelings that he’s kept the entire time.

Yes, the truth is heavier than a lie, but it is much better than it.

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids drabbles #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #han jisung #han jisung imagines #han jisung scenarios #han jisung drabbles #han jisung x reader #drabbles x #jisung x #luvhyjr

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dokoni-mo · 4 years

Text

It’ll Help || Darth Vader x Reader (Blurb)

(A/N: Hi yes so It’s 2 AM and it’s one of those nights were I know i just won’t be able to sleep anytime soon. I’m also feeling somewhat,, lonely. Anyway, this was floating around in my head for a hot minute, and I thought it might be good to write it down. This is based on Far Away, Together (which is, if you’re new here, my Vader x Reader series,,, I’ll link the first chapter here. This is also not really canon to the story,, but take it as you will. Enjoy!)

(P.S.: I didn’t proofread this much at all so please pardon any mistakes!! :’’’’) )

Warnings: None! Just some slight cursing

Key: (F/N) = first name

Word Count: ~2000

~~~

It was well past active hours for you. But, there you were anyway, hammering away on Lord Vader’s broken TIE.

From even that morning, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to sleep. Word had spread quickly around the mess hall that morning of a leading development in the Empire’s most prised project.

The Death Star.

The Empire had just recently acquired the last crystal it needed in order for the lazer to fire. This meant that soon enough, that giant ball of certain doom could rain down terror on any unsuspecting planet, like a sitting duck. Everyone seemed to have somewhat of the same opinion on the matter. The Death Star was great! A fine example of empirical strength. It will strike fear in the hearts of every enemy that the Empire has.

You both agreed and disagreed.

Yes, that giant orb of certain death was terrifying. The power to destroy a planet in a matter of minutes? Who wouldn’t be scared?

But was this thing a good idea to build in the first place? No. Not at all.

You had to give credit where credit was due, however. The idea of this was good in theory, but you knew better. This Death Star would prove to cause more problems than anything. Once the rebellion knew of it’s existence, there was going to be no stopping them from trying to destroy it. They would attack that thing every damn day. This meant that solutions to problems would be delayed because the Empire would be too busy trying to protect its precious circle. This also meant that the Empire would lose many lives unnecessarily. You would never admit it, but you respected the stromtroopers immensely, and it saddened you to see them die for no reason when all they were trying to was put food on the table.

You were lucky enough to be working in Lord Vader’s personal hangar when the news broke. This meant that no one would pester you to give up your thoughts to them, not knowing that what you would tell them would be a lie. You would never openly admit your dislike for the Death Star. This would almost certainly have you arrested and sent into reconditioning.

Late into the night, when you could have sworn that you were the only one left awake, you almost jumped when you heard a sound. Pushing your goggles up your forehead, you turned your head to meet the source of the sound. The sound of heavy boots and the whirr of a respirator.

“Good evening, Lord Vader.” you said to the sith as he drew nearer to your station, his cape fluttering behind him, “How may I help you?”

Lord Vader’s cape covered his strong arms as he spoke to you, allowing him to assume his trademark silhouette. If you didn’t have the glaze of tiredness fuzzing your mind, you should have been scared shitless.

“(F/N),” Lord Vader rumbled out, his mask pointed downward to you, “I hope you are aware that it is well past your active hours.”

You set down your tools before responding, “Yes, my Lord, I am aware. I just...”

Lord Vader tilted his armor-clad head as he waited for you to finish.

“I... can’t sleep. So I thought... you know...” you sighed, your gaze faltering.

A silence filled the air as Lord Vader processed your answer. He certainly didn’t expect that.

“I see.” was all he said, not knowing what else to.

You responded almost too quickly, “I-I’m sorry, my Lord, i-if there’s nothing you need from me I’ll just-”

“That is quite alright, (F/N).” Lord Vader rumbled out before you could stammer and blubber any longer, “I will leave you to your work.”

With that, he turned on his heel to the opposite direction, taking a few steps to exit through the door.

Watching him leave, you felt... sad. You didn’t know why, but you didn’t want him to go just yet.

You must have been more tiredly delusional than you had originally thought, your following actions surprising you.

“M-My Lord, wait!” you called out.

To your surprise, he actually stopped, throwing his gaze over his shoulder to acknowledge your tiny frame.

“Why... Why are you here? I mean- Why are you awake too?”

You must have really felt bold that night. If you were anyone else, you would have been shaking in your boots for questioning the dark lord.

He must have been too tired to choke you to death that night.

“I have been unable to rest as well. I sensed that you were suffering the same fate.” said Lord Vader.

“Oh...” you mumbled out, throwing your gaze to the floor.

Picking your gaze back up, you shot him an awkward half-smile.

“Would you... like to talk for a moment, my Lord? To pass the time?”

A long pause. You bit your lip. Had you been too friendly? Too demanding? You feared that you just ruined everything you had built with the sith.

You were relieved when he turned back to you and looked at you.

“That would be... enjoyable.” he said.

Your smile widening, you dusted off your hands as you walked over to a small crate on the floor. Opening the crate, you pulled out two canteens of water, extending one out to the sith and holding one to your chest.

“Feel free to sit anywhere you wish, my Lord. You do own the place.” you teased, your own special way of inviting him in.

Staring at you for a moment, Lord Vader slowly but surely stomped lugged his boots over to you, the height difference between you and him growing as he drew closer. Once he was close enough, he took the canteen of water from your outstretched hand, pointing his mask down a the tiny thing in his large hands. After a long moment of inspecting the object, he pointed his mask back to your face.

“You do know that I cannot consume this, correct?” Lord Vader asked.

You giggled at this as you seated yourself on the floor, your back against one of the crates that lined your station.

“I know,” you responded, “but it’ll help you get in the talking mood.

Lord Vader looked at you a long moment before taking a seat on a nearby crate. You were quite the... oddity, to him. He had never seen such bravery yet such... kindness before in an imperial recruit. It was almost refreshing.

The sight of Lord Vader sitting down as not new to you, but was still very odd to you. You looked up at him as you took a swig from your canteen, pleased to see that he was still holding his.

“I heard about the development in the Death Star.” you said to him, breaking the ice.

His shoulders stiffened at this.

“I do not wish to be reminded of that monstrosity.” Lord Vader said, his voice sharp.

You nearly choked on your water.

“You don’t like the Death Star, my Lord?”

“No.” he responded.

You smiled up at him.

“Wow,” you breathed out, “I’m shocked, I... I thought I was the only one.”

This has certainly piqued his interest. He tilted his head to the side as he looked down at you. Looking up at him, you could tell he wanted an explanation without him even needing to say anything.

“Don’t get me wrong, my Lord. I can appreciate the Death Star was a work of engineering,” you said, turning your canteen in your hands as you looked down at him, “but it as a thing... I don’t think the Empire made the right move. The Death Star is a terrifying weapon. The power to destroy a planet that quickly? Heh, who wouldn’t be scared... But that’s just the problem. The rebellion will be so scared that they’ll attack that... thing, every damn day. The people working there will be too busy trying to fight them off to get anything done. In my opinion, my Lord, the only thing that the Death Star will be able to do is cause problems.”

Lord Vader had nearly thought that he had finally lost his mind. He could not believe what the being before him was letting fall out from behind her lips. To openly criticize the Empire right in front of him? This was something that he had never seen before. He should have killed you right then. In fact, he was supposed to do so, by order of his master.

Yet... he couldn’t.

He couldn’t bear the thought of it, even.

Hearing your words, a sense came upon Lord Vader that he had not felt for so very long...

Connection.

For the first time in what felt like ages, he was able to... relate to another being, and connect with them.

It was almost too much to bear.

He didn’t realize how long he had taken to respond before he spoke again.

“I... agree, with you, (F/N).” Lord Vader said.

You were surprised to say the least, shooting your gaze back up to him.

“You do, my Lord?”

“Yes...” he responded, looking down at the canteen in his large, gloved hands, “The Death Star will only cause problems for the Empire, and...”

You listened to him talk for a good long while with a small smile on your face, your ears trained on every word. For some odd reason, a sense of peace and tranquility came over you as you listened to him ramble on and on about how much he hated the Death Star. You found it almost funny.

You tried to stay awake as best you could to listen, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of your eyelids growing heavier and heavier as the sense of relaxation swallowed you whole.

“What do you think of this, (F/N)?” he asked you once he was finally done with his long rant. Pausing to hear your response, he was confused when you said nothing for a long moment.

“(F/N), I asked you a question.” He pressed. Greeted again with nothing in return, he allowed his gaze to be ripped away from the canteen you gave him to instead settle on your face.

What he saw was highly unexpected.

Your head was tilted downwards and to the side, your eyes closed and your lips slighly parted. Your lashes gently following the curve of your cheek, he noticed how a lock of your hair had fallen in your face, casting a shadow upon it. Watching your chest rise and fall a moment, he was finally able to process what he was seeing.

You had fallen asleep.

As much as he wanted to be angry at this, he couldn’t find the strength inside of him to do so. The way you had just looked so peaceful sitting there asleep... it struck an old, dusty chord deep within him.

He had no idea what it was.

He had no idea what overtook him as he rose to his feet.

He had no idea what overtook him as he removed his cape from around his shoulders.

He had no idea what overtook him as he draped his cape across your body, blanketing you within it.

Without him realizing it, he hoped that it would help you keep warm in the cold, lifeless hangar.

Looking at you a moment, he shifted his gaze down to the canteen in his hand. He had almost forgotten that he was still holing onto it, yet gazing into the reflective surface, the image of you holding it out to him with a smile plagued his mind.

He didn’t know why that image projected itself to him, but he refused to block it out for some time.

He could have sworn that the shiny surface of the canteen had the same twinkle in its surface as there was in your brilliant, vibrant eyes.

It’ll help you get in the talking mood, you had said.

And you were right.

Attaching the canteen to his belt, he sat back down upon the crate, resting his hands upon his knees as he looked down at your sleeping body, covered by the fabric of his cape.

He figured he could stay a little while longer to meditate while you slept.

That way, he would know that you would be warm, even for just a little while.

In that moment, he didn’t want anything more.

~~~

TAGS: @captainrexstan , @robin-obsessed @missmannequin

#darth vader #darth vader x reader #fanfiction #anakin x you #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars fanfic

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twisted-imagines · 4 years

Note

Sup! Can you write headcannons about silver and a s/o with insomnia if you’re not busy?

Yay! First requests! Hehe I'm happy~

A small scenario and general headcanons are coming your way, precisely because I have a lot of free time right now~ There's not much information on Silver right now, but I tried my best. Thank you veeery much for requesting, I hope I was able to write this piece to your liking. Please enjoy!❤ (You can also send me anonymous asks now, in case any of you feel more comfortable that way.)

Silver and a s/o with insomnia

There it was again. Your mind was buzzing with thoughts like a beehive again, despite your body being near it's limits after the long day. Even though your eyes were hurting as if they were thrown at least a kilo of sand at, you still couldn't close them and rest. Instead you were looking at the face of your dear boyfriend, quietly sleeping beside you. You spent your free day together, mindlessly walking through the college grounds, eating at cafeteria, watching birds at the square, listening their joyous songs and just enjoying each other's company. It was a perfect date, you couldn't help but smile a little remembering it and how Silver almost fell asleep several times. You used to be offended, it made you question whether you were that boring, but with time you learned that there was nothing malicious behind it and started to admire this trait of his.

Maybe you were even a tad bit jealous of it, as you lay in the bed in his room, where he invited you to absentmindedly at the end of the day. He didn't lie, about how he wouldn't attempt anything, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillows, which left only you wide awake and unable to sleep.

Silver was very pretty like that, you had to note: his chest was rising in steady rhythm; soft lips, you kissed them today plenty of times, permitted only the quietest of snores out; his face completely relaxed. If you didn't know better you would think a silverhaired angel was sleeping near you. Your restless mind grew quiet just a bit observing Silver, but that wasn't satisfying at all, not if you wanted to get up to your classes tomorrow. You signed crestfallen, and shifted for ninth time that night to try and find a better pose, that would hopefully allow you to sleep.

Maybe it was the sound of your distress, the movements on the bed or his own intuition, but Silver woke up from his dreams to see you frowning and fidgeting, clearly not sleeping at all.

"Hey, [Name], are you asleep? "

His voice was nothing more than a whisper, but your eyes snapped open instantly, and that's when he knew something was wrong. Still groggy from waking up at the middle of the night, the boy moved closer to you, his hands slowly hugging you to his chest. You felt a warm peck on your forehead.

"Why 'r u 'wake? Nightmare?"

His words were slurred, said in a sigh, but they held comfort and care like none other.

"Can't fall asleep. I have nights like that often."

Your own words sounded harshly to your ears, not like your boyfriend's feather light questions, who grunted in response to let you know that he heard what you said. For a few moments there was a complete silence, and you, somewhat sadly, thought that he had fallen asleep once again, but instead Silver rose up together with you. You could see how he was struggling to chase away the sleep and it definitely didn't sit right with you.

"What are you doing?! If you wake up right now, you may not fall asleep later!"

You whisper scolded him, since it was not in your plans to make one more person suffer from lack of sleep that night.

"Heh, believe me, that's the least likely to happen with me of all people. "

With you in his firm, but gentle grip, Silver sat on the bed and looked curiously at the clock on his nightstand.

"Wow, it's already so late... Early? If you hadn't fallen asleep by now, remaining in the bed won't help. Let's go~"

The boy yawned before getting up and taking his coat from the chair. To your unvoiced question "Where to?" he replied:

"Outside. I remember reading it from somewhere, that a walk and fresh air can help sometimes. Come on, give me your hand."

The warmth of his hand encompassing yours, and his caring worlds nearly made you, so tired and frustrated, cry, but you followed his lead out of the room and to the hallway.

It was considerably colder there; not enough to make you freeze, just to freshen up a little, not to mention the cozy coat that Silver has thrown on your shoulders when you exited his room. The Diasomnia dorm was a different sight at night, still as solemn and majestic, with mysterious atmosphere, but the magic curling at the empty corridors, crawling on the floors, slipping around the corners, evading the green light of magical lanterns was almost palpable. Were you alone, you would scramble back to the room, the oppressing aura of the dorm was too much for you, and that meant something coming from the person, who lived in the infamous Ramshackle dorm. But with Silver at your side, your hand in his, you felt more at peace, not as fearful of descending further into the darkness of Diasomnia hallways.

When the boy stopped walking and moved to open the window, you understood where you had been led to it. It was a spacious balcony in one of the towers. It had a spectacular view, allowing you to take in the image of dorm grounds at night.

You could never imagine it to be so grandiose under the moonlight. The scenery looked straight out of a fairy tale. You neared the window in awe, your tiredness and bad mood were taken away with the heavy blow of wind. You shivered a little, but soon felt warm hands embrace you from behind. Silver's torso was against your back, and his chin was resting on your shoulder. He didn't say a word, most likely slowly falling asleep, just like he always did when he peacefully held you in his arms. You were his haven, a person who brought peace to his heart no matter what, with whom he could always feel himself comfortable and relaxed and he genuinely wanted for you to experience it too.

"Does it happen very often?"

His question was nearly carried away with the wind, before you heard it thought the state of serenity you were currently in. A deep sigh escaped you.

"Almost every night. Even if I fall asleep fast, I wake up at night and just wait for the morning, it's impossible to return to sleep. It's very tiring..."

It pained him to no end to see you so distressed, he couldn't bear to see his loved one hurt. He asked you a few other questions, determined to pry more details.

He made a resolution to learn more about the ways he could help you, maybe about remedies not traditional to you, especially in the field of magic. If he, a wizard from the Diasomnia, couldn't help you, surely an immense mistake was made in the dormitory's description, and it didn't hold the most proficient at magic personalities. Silver hugged you even closer placing a kiss to your temple. His voice was like a lullaby in your ear.

"When you're in pain, or struggling with something, I want to know about it. So, please, from now on, tell me about it, okay? I want to help you in any way I can. I'm your boyfriend after all."

His last replica embarrassed you to no end, even more than the following kiss to your cheek. So cheesy, yet so sweet, you didn't manage to keep yourself from laughing out loud. Compared to how nonchalant he sounded before, you could hear how bashful Silver became right away. You wanted to see his face so bad at the moment, but he prevented you from turning around, tightening his grip even more.

"Suddenly laughing like that...Was it so funny to you? Geez..."

A thud at your shoulder inspired an even funnier picture in your mind of a white cat burying it's head in it's paws. Nobody said anything anymore, relishing in the presence of the other. Calming melody of the wind and Silver's warmth started to lull you bit by bit. Your eyelids became just a bit heavier, mind pleasantly silent for a change.

"Think you can rest now? Not like you have left a lot of time, but it's better than nothing."

You heard Silver's voice and nodded. One way or another, tomorrow will be a hard day for you, but this impromptu walk improved your mood quite a bit.

"Sure. Let's head back. But before that-"

Silver, who was half-asleep at that point could only smile at the feeling of your lips on his.

"Thank you, Silver."

The boy in question only grumbled, before his weight started to slowly slide down on you.

• No need to mention, how exhausted you were, after Silver refused to wake up at any cost and you had to drag him back to his bed. You fell asleep from the complete lack of energy that night, and while it was not what Silver intended, you were able to survive at least to the end of morning classes.

• The boy himself was present at his own classes only on physical level, though nobody was surprised enough by that sight to question what he was doing at night. Gladly, he recovered enough energy to spend it on something he swore to do last night - learn more about your insomnia.

• He browses through books, internet resources and goes as far as asking Malleus and Lilia about the ways he can help you.

• While he does gain a lot of useful(and a few misleading ones from Lilia) advices, he still integrates some classic habits to his routine with you: he prepares beverages like hot cocoa or milk for you, cuddles and massages you when you stay at his room.

• He doesn't mind you shifting in bed or causing some noise when you sleep together, but he's also not best at keeping you company at night time, even if he sincerely wants to sometimes.

•He tries to help you with your studies as much as he can, searching for his old notes or revising the material together with you. Though it sometimes leads to you reading and explaining your exam themes to a completely clocked out Silver... You don't hold it against him.

• While he's your complete opposite in sleeping routine, he's very sympathetic and worries about you. Silver is completely understanding of how you may not have energy for anything at times, your health takes priority to him.

• If he notices your insomnia getting worse he won't shy away from using the spells Malleus shared with him. As long as it's of any benefit to you, he's not going to withhold it. But those are still drastic measures, and he discusses it with you prior.

• Being the one awake most of the time, you help him to stay conscious at crucial moments, and search for him, when you suspect that he has fallen asleep somewhere he shouldn't and he's thankful for that.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst Silver #Silver #Diasomnia #mel writes

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sociallyawkward--fics · 3 years

Text

Last Christmas

Here it is, lol. The fic I wrote last night with Wham!’s “Last Christmas” on repeat for literally Three Hours Straight lol. It is entirely unedited except for me having a friend read it over briefly and them go “you’re missing a period here” and nothing else lol. Please be kind though, I have not written for months and any Christmas fics I’m posting are more just warm-ups to get me back to the level of writing I was before I accidentally took a break, cuz no way I’m jumping back into my Big Projects without getting myself back up to par lol

ALSO, I know Jaskier seems like,,, really aggressive towards Yen in this fic. She's not meant to be a villain! Jaskier just is jealous and sad so he takes it out on her a little bit, which is definitely not the right thing to do but I think it's a very human thing to do. After this I imagine them going for coffee or smth and just lovingly trash-talking Geralt and realizing "wow we can actually be decent friends" lol

------------

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types; Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game); The Witcher (TV); Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski

Relationship: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Characters: Jaskier | Dandelion; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia; Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg; Triss Merigold; Zoltan Chivay; Iorveth (The Witcher); Eskel (The Witcher); Vernon Roche

Additional Tags: eskel triss iorveth and roche are barely-there btw; Jealous Jaskier | Dandelion; Mistletoe; Getting Together; Misunderstandings; Miscommunication; Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg; Alcohol; Drinking; Smoking; (very briefly) - Freeform; Communication; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings; Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia; Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia; Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion; Mutual Pining; Kissing; Hugs; Alternate Universe - Modern Setting; Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers; Alternate Universe - No Powers; Holidays; Christmas; Christmas Party

Word Count: 3614 words

[ao3 link]

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It took an embarrassing amount of time for Jaskier to work up the courage to leave his car. Instead he sat there, heat off and car growing increasingly frosty, forehead against the steering wheel as he bemoaned his own very existence. He did not want to go to this party, which was very out of character for him.

But Jaskier couldn’t take another repeat of last year’s holiday party. And he knew the second he saw Geralt, he would be back there again.

They had both been decently tipsy, which was their first mistake, but Jaskier knew that neither of them were drunk. That’s why he had been so shocked when Geralt made the first move, pressing him up against the wall to the men’s room and ravishing his mouth. They’d gone home together to Jaskier’s flat and had a wonderful night together, but Geralt had been gone come morning.

They never spoke of that night. And by the next week, Geralt had been back in his on-again, off-again relationship with Yennefer.

Jaskier thought he’d gotten over it. As much as he didn’t regret it, it was clear that Geralt did, and he wasn’t going to push his feelings onto the man when they were so clearly unwanted. It was a miracle their friendship survived it, with how testy they had been with each other for weeks afterward.

Jaskier took a deep breath and tightened his scarf around his neck, finally leaving his car to make his way into the hotel ballroom that Foltest had booked for the night. At least their work holiday parties weren’t held in the offices, Jaskier wouldn’t have been able to force himself back to work after last year if they were.

Jaskier’s traitorous eyes immediately sought out Geralt the moment he walked in. He wasn’t hard to find, with his striking silver hair and refusal to wear anything but black. He stuck out like a sore thumb, in the sea of red and green and gold. But god, did he look good. Unfortunately, he was already occupied with the only other person in the room who refused to wear color: Yennefer.

Jaskier forced his eyes away, directing them instead towards the makeshift bar. Zoltan was already there, and, judging by the red on his cheeks, already several drinks in. Jaskier couldn’t exactly judge. He was going to need quite a few drinks to get through this night as well.

“Good old Dandelion!” Zoltan crowed as he approached, words only slightly slurred.

“Zoltan,” Jaskier greeted with an easy smile, nodding at the bartender. “When are you ever going to give up on that silly nickname?”

Zoltan snorted. “You’re the one who calls himself a flower, Julian.”

Jaskier shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Soon enough, Jaskier had a drink in his hand and an earful of Zoltan’s voice, accent only growing thicker and harder to understand the drunker he got. He was barely following what Zoltan was talking about, anymore. Something about his ex father-in-law’s business tanking? He seemed rather pleased by it, in any case. Jaskier probably would be to, if he wasn’t still so anxious.

“What’s got a stick up yer ass?” Zoltan asked after a while, winding down from his latest story.

“Just… not in a partying mood, I suppose.”

Zoltan laughed uproariously. “You? Not in a party mood? Never thought I’d see the day!”

Jaskier gave a half-hearted smile, knowing Zoltan was too far gone to notice that fact, and let his eyes wander the crowd. After a few drinks, he was beginning to feel pleasantly tipsy. The idea of lasting out the party was actually beginning to feel manageable, though he still felt like giving Yennefer and Geralt a wide berth. They always exploded at these things, and Jaskier didn’t want to be caught in the middle of that.

Again.

That was one fight their friendship almost hadn’t survived, and it was the worst six months of Jaskier’s life. And that was including the past twelve months after the last holiday party.

“Come on, Dandelion,” Zoltan said, and Jaskier’s attention was drawn back to the bar. “Sit down for a game of cards with me! Or perhaps a round of dice?”

Jaskier laughed, his first true laugh of the night. “I know better than to gamble with you, old friend. It’s about time I mingled, don’t you think? Give the masses what they desire.”

Zoltan laughed again and gave him a sloppy wink. “Go get ‘em, tomcat. I’ll find some other poor fool to swindle.”

Jaskier grinned. “I don’t doubt it.”

Jaskier slipped away from the bar and into the crowd. He greeted people with hugs and kisses on the cheek, making them laugh and shove him away with teasing grins. He twirled between groups of people in a carefully perfected dance, muscle memory even with the alcohol in his system.

Unfortunately, that muscle memory rather quickly led him to Geralt’s current circle of companions. Yennefer and Triss were there, clearly making an intense effort to not be at each other’s throats. Eskel was there, which wasn’t surprising: as much as a sweetheart as he was, Eskel’s social skills definitely needed some development, and he tended to use Jaskier and Geralt as a social crutch (despite the fact that his brother was even worse with people than he was). Iorveth and Vernon Roche were on opposite sides of the little circle the group had formed, and Jaskier dreaded that disaster waiting to happen.

Really, how did Geralt attract such dramatic people to him so easily?

Despite how suddenly off-kilter Jaskier felt being so close to Geralt, last year flashing through his mind, he knew he couldn’t show it. Geralt would notice, and then it would be awkward for them both, and Jaskier would never forgive himself for ruining Geralt’s Christmas two years in a row.

So he flitted around the group, being his charming self. His smile felt forced as he gave Iorveth and Roche (very awkward) one-armed hugs. His stomach churned as he kissed Triss on the cheek. His balance felt off as he waltzed into Eskel’s arms for one of his patented bear hugs (though that was likely the alcohol, now that he thought about it).

“How is it that you’re already drunk, Jaskier?” Geralt said as Jaskier pulled out of Eskel’s arms.

Jaskier shot him a cheeky grin. “Not drunk, my dear--friend. My dear friend. Merely tipsy.”

“With a stutter like that forming?” Yennefer teased, holding out her hand.

Jaskier indulged her dramatics and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, chest burning white hot all the while. His smile was probably slightly too-sharp when he stood back up again, but he couldn’t be bothered to fix it.

“The heavier side of tipsy, perhaps,” Jaskier replied, smoothly sliding in beside Geralt to drape himself over Geralt’s shoulders.

A chorus of titters and chuckles went through the circle and Jaskier furrowed his brow. He rubbed his face and ran a hand through his hair, searching for imperfections but finding none. He then looked toward Geralt for an explanation, but the poor man looked just as confused as Jaskier was.

“Aren’t you wondering why none of us were standing all that close to Geralt?” Triss asked, that coy smile Jaskier was all-too-familiar with making its way onto her lips.

And now that she mentioned that, it was odd. Yennefer was usually glued to Geralt’s other side, and Triss was almost always trying to butt her way in. Her jealousy tended to be a great deal more obvious than Jaskier’s, deliberately trying to provoke the two of them. Jaskier simply got drunk and wrote songs about unrequited love, he knew better than to try and put himself between them.

Roche rolled his eyes as Jaskier and Geralt still just stared at the group rather dumbly. He pointed upwards and their eyes followed his finger.

Geralt, very unfortunately, was halfway into a doorway. Taped to the top of the frame of said doorway was a little sprig of green. Jaskier felt his heart stop. He had to swallow to keep the bile from rising up in his throat. He pulled away from where he was leaning on Geralt. The group was still laughing and teasing good-naturedly, but Jaskier felt like his world was crashing down around him. He looked toward Eskel for help, being the kindest of the group.

Only Eskel just shrugged with a grin. “It is tradition.”

“Oh come on, now,” Yennefer said, her voice twisting around Jaskier’s throat like a noose. “We’re all adults here. Just get it over with.”

Jaskier slowly met Geralt’s eyes. He was impossible to read, even moreso than normal, and Jaskier felt that familiar pit open up in his stomach. He needed to get this over with and then smoothly make his escape. Perhaps claim he’d had more to drink than he thought and needed to call a cab.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked quietly, barely more than a whisper.

Jaskier gave him a small smile and leaned forward. He pressed a feather-light kiss to the scruff of Geralt’s cheek before pulling away, his heart not able to take much more than that.

Jaskier couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes as he walked away.

Jaskier’s kiss was a barely-there peck to the cheek. Before Geralt could even hope to respond, he was gone.

The group’s teasing had quieted down, and Geralt dared to look up. Iorveth and Roche seemed confused, not close enough to the rest of the group to be caught up on the drama. Eskel seemed torn between beating himself up and beating Geralt up. Triss seemed guilty.

And Yennefer was just smug.

Geralt found himself grinding his teeth. Of course she was behind this (though it was clear that Triss had some hand in it, as well). Their most recent breakup, for once, had been amicable. The past few years had been hell for them, trying to make their relationship work even though they both knew it was never going anywhere. Jaskier was Yennefer’s last straw.

Geralt was more horrified that Yennefer had so easily picked up on his feelings for Jaskier than hurt by the breakup. If she had picked up on them, then surely Jaskier had?

Is that what that hauntingly sad smile Jaskier gave him before he kissed him was for? Did Jaskier pity him? Was he trying to let Geralt down easy?

“Go after him,” she said simply.

“Yen, this isn’t one of your games--”

“No,” she replied, voice suddenly terse. “So stop treating it like one and act like an adult, Geralt. I think we’ve all had quite enough of you two being like this, and it only got worse after last year’s party.”

“Which you still won’t talk about,” Triss chimed in, raising an eyebrow.

“So go talk to him.”

Geralt resisted the urge to growl. “Fine.”

Jaskier wasn’t hard to find, when you knew him as well as Geralt did. He liked to be high up when he was upset, saying it made him feel like he was getting some perspective on his problems. Geralt liked to joke that it was because he was more at home with his head in the clouds.

Jaskier was on a balcony overlooking the city, a pack of cigarettes sitting on the railing. A lit one rested between his fingers, the smoke curling into the air and entwining with the condensation trailing from his lips thanks to the cold air.

“I thought you quit,” Geralt said quietly.

Jaskier turned his head, not far enough to face Geralt but far enough to let Geralt see the wry half smile on his lips.

“You know how the holidays are,” Jaskier replied, taking a long drag from his cigarette and turning back to the cityscape.

Geralt moved forward to lean against the railing next to him, letting out a heavy sigh and watching the white vapor twist into the air. He didn’t know how to have this conversation. Between the two of them, Jaskier was by far the more emotionally intelligent one. With him shutting down like this, Geralt didn’t know what to say.

“Are you… okay?”

Jaskier snorted. “Yeah, Geralt. I’m great.”

Geralt considered the words for a few moments, turning around the tone of voice in his head. “Sarcasm,” he decided.

It was much easier to decipher when he himself was using it, rather than try to pick out when others were.

Jaskier sighed, hanging his head. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Geralt shook his head. “What’s going on?”

Jaskier took another drag of his cigarette. “Nothing, Geralt. Don’t worry about it.”

Geralt let out a frustrated growl, not sure how else to express himself in the moment. He snatched the pack of cigarettes off the railing (breathing out a sigh of relief when only one was missing -- the one between Jaskier’s fingers) and ripped the lit one out of Jaskier’s hand, tossing both items over the edge of the balcony.

“What the fuck, Geralt?!”

Geralt stared at him. “You told me last time you quit to not let you start up again.”

Jaskier groaned and put his head into his hands. “Shit. I did, didn’t I?”

Geralt hummed an affirmative.

“Aside from saving my lungs, was there something you needed, Geralt?”

Geralt leaned back against the railing, clasping his hands together. “To know what’s had you acting so weird all night.”

He felt Jaskier’s eyes on him, could see him staring out of his peripheral, but Geralt kept his eyes on the lights of the city. With all the light pollution, it was probably as close to stars as they would get without driving out to the mountains.

“You really want to know?” Jaskier asked eventually, his voice low.

“Yes.”

“Tonight I was pressured into kissing the man that broke my heart, about a year ago now.”

Geralt flinched back, finally looking over toward Jaskier. Jaskier was still staring at him, his blue eyes almost seeming to glow in the dark of the balcony.

“Who--Who broke--”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow, face remaining impassive.

Geralt hesitated. “I broke your heart?”

Jaskier sighed and turned away, looking toward the horizon. “Last holiday party, we went home together. We made love for hours. I told you I cared for you deeply. And when I woke up, you were gone.”

Geralt wanted to say something, wanted to defend himself, but his voice felt like it was glued in his throat, unable to escape.

“Barely any time had passed before you were back in Yennefer’s pocket, not a thought given to us. And we never talked about it.”

Geralt swallowed. “I didn’t realize--”

Jaskier threw his hands up in the air, a frustrated laugh escaping his lips. Geralt’s frown deepened when he saw Jaskier’s eyes glistening.

“Didn’t realize what, Geralt? I thought I was being pretty obvious about the fact that I’m in love with you!”

“Yennefer and I broke up,” Geralt said, deciding to tackle the topic he knew how to talk about first.

Jaskier snorted, leaning his back against the railing and crossing his arms. “What else is new?”

Geralt shook his head. “For good, this time.”

Jaskier only stared at him. Geralt huffed out a breath as he searched for his words, running a hand through his hair.

“You know how… Sometimes, you can have a great friendship with each other, but when you try to date you end up being really toxic and horrible to each other? That’s me and Yen.”

“Could’ve told you that three years ago. Oh wait, I did.”

Geralt sighed. “I know. I’m sorry I didn’t listen, Jask. I just… I wanted it to work so bad, we both did. Even though we knew it never would.”

Jaskier looked down at his feet. “I know. I’m sorry for snapping like that.”

“It’s okay.”

Jaskier looked back up at him. “So what was the final nail in the coffin? What sealed the deal for you two?”

Geralt looked away, choosing a specific building to look at and staring at it intensely. His fingers itched to fiddle with something, but he forced them to stay still, clenching the freezing metal of the railing.

“I love Yen. But she and I both realized that I would never love her as much as I loved you.”

The silence stretched on for far too long and Geralt could feel his skin prickling with anxiety. His throat felt like it had swollen shut, making it difficult to breathe and impossible to get any words out. He wanted to look at Jaskier, see his reaction, but his body was locked in place.

“And if you love me so much, Geralt,” Jaskier said, his voice even more icy than the balcony railing leeching the warmth from his fingers, “why did you leave me?”

Geralt gave into the urge to fidget, reaching up for the pendant on his chest. His fingers were clumsy and numb from the cold, making him fumble, but the action was still soothing.

“I didn’t realize you meant it. Jaskier, you flirt with everyone. You’ve probably slept with half the company, and while I don’t judge you for that, I couldn’t help but feel like I was just the next notch in your bedpost.”

Jaskier dropped his face into his hands. “God, Geralt, I only slept with most of those people to try and get over you. You had Yennefer, and I was just me. I knew you would never choose me over her.”

“I am now.”

Jaskier stayed silent for a moment. “And if I decide that it’s too late?”

There was an uncomfortable burning feeling behind Geralt’s eyes and he did his best to push it back down.

“Then I would respect your decision, and hope we could still be friends come tomorrow. I don’t want to lose you, Jask.”

Jaskier didn’t reply.

“I’m sorry I made you wait so long. I’m sorry I was so blind to your feelings.”

“And say we did do this,” Jaskier said, his voice still guarded. “What about Yennefer?”

Geralt shook his head. “There’s nothing left for me and Yen. We’re done hurting each other for a relationship that will never feel good.” Geralt couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his lips as he tacked on, “Plus, with the looks Triss has been shooting her, I don’t think Yennefer will be too lonely.”

Jaskier shot him an incredulous look. “Triss and Yennefer hate each other!”

Geralt chuckled. “Yeah, when I was involved. Yen can, quite frankly, be a jealous bitch, and Triss certainly wasn’t letting up on the flirting.”

Jaskier searched his face. “And Triss?”

“There was never going to be any me and Triss, and she knew that. Honestly, I think her flirting these days has been more to toy with Yen than to actually try and woo me.”

Jaskier turned his gaze toward the night sky, a muddy brown-black-orange that ruined any hope of seeing the stars “Huh.”

“They both know there’s only one person I’m looking to woo me, anyway.”

Geralt watched Jaskier break out in a goofy, giddy smile, clearly involuntarily based on the way he quickly bit his lip to try and suppress it. Slowly, carefully, Geralt reached out for one of Jaskier’s hands, tugging gently until his arms came unravelled.

“I’m so sorry, Jaskier.”

Jaskier shook his head. “I’m sorry, too. I should’ve said something.”

“Can I hug you?”

Jaskier’s goofy smile was back and Geralt felt his heart clench. He hoped to see that smile so much more.

“Only if I can kiss you,” Jaskier replied, bouncing on his toes a little.

Geralt grinned. “I find that an acceptable trade.”

Jaskier laughed then, pulling him into a tight hug. They stayed like that for a long while, sharing heat and just soaking in each other’s presence. Slowly starting to accept that this was real, that this was happening. Geralt clenched his hands tightly into Jaskier’s sweater.

And then, some long minutes later, they pulled back from the hug just enough to press their lips together. It was soft and chaste, but by no means short. Geralt decided that kissing Jaskier felt like coming home.

They slipped away after that, deciding not to head back to the party. Their friends would assume things, sure, but they didn’t care. They had lost time to make up for, they could make up for not saying goodbye later.

Geralt drove them home, back to Jaskier’s flat just like last year. Jaskier fiddled with the radio as the streets blurred around them, trying to find an appropriately-themed holiday station. He burst into cackles the second he found one.

“Tell me this is not Wham!,” Geralt begged.

Jaskier was laughing too hard to reply.

“I hate it,” Geralt said, despite being on the verge of laughter himself. “I hate it so much. Stop laughing, it’s not funny.”

“It’s so funny!” Jaskier wheezed, clutching his stomach as he doubled over in his seat.

Jaskier had only just barely calmed down by the time they got to his flat. They curled up on his ratty old couch with some hot chocolate and put on a Christmas movie, but it became more background noise than anything.

Instead they talked. They talked about their past together and how it hurt them, and their future and how they would prevent that from hurting too. They talked until Geralt’s throat was sore and Jaskier was nodding off on his shoulder. Geralt couldn’t find the energy to carry him to bed, so he simply readjusted their position on the couch to be something more comfortable and settled in to sleep himself.

“L’ve ‘ou” Jaskier breathed out against his neck.

Geralt smiled, closing his eyes. “Love you too, Jaskier.

#witcher #the witcher #geraskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #the witcher fanfic #witcher fanfic #My writing #triss merigold #Yennefer of Vengerberg #zoltan chivay #iorveth #vernon roche #eskel

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3elphie · 4 years

Text

the one i love.

→ pairing: yamaguchi tadashi x reader

→ summary: you get him a date with the girl he likes, but is that what he really wants?

→ genre: angsty but not that bad and fluff at the end if ya squint ;)

→ for more of my works click here!

→ author’s note: first drabble you alr know :P sorry if it’s bad LMAO but i was feeling angsty when i was listening to kioku so here ya goooooooooooooo!

“you’re bold dear, can’t you see? i’m clearly above your league.”

muffled cries could be heard through his trembling hands. tears dropped down his rose colored cheeks as he placed his back against the door, squatting down to sit on the wet ground. wetting his sleeves, he replays the response in his head. he never knew he would have the confidence to confess to mina, knowing how insecure he is. yet, when he does have the courage, his insecurities pile up even more. footsteps can be heard from the left side of his ear. he tries to run away as fast as he can to prevent anyone seeing him, but fails to do so as the void in his heart is to big to carry. hiding his face with his hands, he hears the figure coming even closer. a soft touch comes to greet the side of his face, gently removing his slender fingers from his damp face.

“tadashi, whats wrong?” you asked with an empathetic look on your face. even though you two had the closest bond over the years, never did he have dared to cry in front of you, or anybody. his eyes looked up at you, glistening, while his face was adorably covered in red. his frown put a even more empathetic look on your face. his smile may have been the brightest you have ever seen, but the sadness in his face was the complete opposite. one remaining factor, however, was how beautiful they both were in your eyes.

he trembles even more, pulling you in as a place to rest his head. you lifted your hand to pet the back of his head, twirling the ends of his hair. hearing the muffled sounds and the vibration of his voice in your chest, you couldn’t bear seeing him like this anymore. pushing his shoulders back gently, you look at his shining orbs. before standing up, you caress his face as wet drops hit your fingertips. wiping the dirt off your white dress you had worn, you take his hand and drag him to your room. he hugs you from behind, to cover his face from everyone who might’ve passed by. as you reach the door, you stand for a bit, smiling back at yamaguchi, with the most genuine look on your face that you would give to no one but him. you open the door to your room.

he recognized the familiar smell. removing himself from your back, he slowly walks to your bed, and falls on your sheets. taking a deep breath, he looks over at you. he thought you looked breathtaking, rays of sun hitting your skin, that seemed to match it perfectly. but, he only thought of the person in front of him as a friend. you two stare at each other for a while as he calms down. you walk over to him, your careful, quiet footsteps become louder as you reach your bed. placing the fabric of your dress under the thigh, you sit down on your bed.

“now can you tell me what’s up?” you smiled, “i figured you didn’t want to tell me in the middle of all dorms.” you look at him take a deep breath before he tells you,

“she rejected me.” tears come out again. ahhh, mina, of course its mina. you finally knew why he cried. you and mina had been close ever since junior high. even if you had duo personalities, hers being straightforward and a bit harsh, you being supportive and kind, your bond was close to being the same as you had with yamaguchi. you place a hand on his face for the third time. enjoying the touch yamaguchi placed his on yours to pull them closer to his face.

“i know you like her a lot, tadashi” you sigh, “she just doesn’t know how great you are.” he looks up at your face, the most serious one he’s ever seen, but he still looks as confused as ever. you chuckle, yamaguchi’s expressions are adorable as ever. “i think you’re kind, hardworking, loving, respectful” you take a breath of air, “i can’t even name all of them tadashi.” you look at him, but still get a confused look. however, his cheeks give of a shade of bright pink. “i know her opinion matters more than mine.” you chuckle as he shakes his head vigorously, “so, i’ll make her see how great you are.” using your connections with her as an advantage you text her.

“you got a date with her in an hour, go show her you deserve her love, alright?” you smile again, but with a less genuine face. you were just as happy though. seeing the most important person in your life happy, was more worth living for you. not your own happiness, but his. you’re risking your happiness, all for him. pushing him out the room to get ready, you stare at him walking away for a bit. you head to the garden, tears in your eyes. yamaguchi looks back at the door after you’ve gone. he’s telling himself to feel grateful, he finally gets a date with the girl he likes. but, the void in his heart got even heavier as he left your room.

the garden was your favorite place to be. enchanting, gorgeous, ethereal. it looked like it had come from a movie scene. looked like it belonged to magic fairies who controlled a forest, your safe place. light shines on the piano placed there, making it look even more beautiful. without thought, you head over to the piano, flowers caressing your ankles along the way.

yamaguchi heads his way to the spot you told him to meet her at. but, something else catches his attention, the sound of a piano. he immediately follows the sound, as if it was a magnet, forcing him to come to it. it leads him to a door with a small glass opening in the middle. through the opening, he sees plants, flowers tress, grass, but he can’t spot the piano. he opens the door to a fresh scent. looking behind statues, he tries to find who’s playing the addictive melody. he spots the back side of the piano, lips curved into a smile as he heads over. going closer, his current view is breathtaking.

you were there, soft winds blowing through your glowing hair, fingers delicately touching the piano, your face shining from the tears that wet it. he then knew what he was missing. he knew it was low of him, but he liked mina for her looks and cool personality. he never acknowledged how his heartbeat was faster around you than anyone else. still focused on the piano, putting all your emotions into the song you were playing, you never saw him. you feel your body sitting up as a pair of lips intertwine with yours.

letting go, you both get air to breath. you’re confused as tears find its way to your eyes, the same with yamaguchi.

“ tadashi?”, you let out, “what about the dat-” he stops you.

“thanks for getting me a date with the girl i thought i liked” he sighs, “but i’d rather have one with the i love.”

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jetsetlife138 · 4 years

Text

Imaginary - Chapter 6

Rating: Mature for this chapter, but Explicit in future chapters

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Summary: A mysterious device throws you into the animated world of Hazbin Hotel. Once an average human living in a three-dimensional world, you’re now transformed into a two-dimensional human that has been cast into Hell. Pentagram City’s residents are curious and most harbor ill-will towards you. Charlie and the staff of the Happy Hotel take you in and offer you protection while they try and figure out how to return you to your world. That is… until you come across a certain Radio Demon with different intentions. Warnings: Manipulation, Language, Awkward Situations

Previous Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

Tags: @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @edgy-drama-queen @chasingfireflies1999 @galaxy-meteor @cecidit-31 @shadowclawstudio88 @utterly-disappointing @opheliuva @trinswhimsys @skylarhedges @whogavebrynjolfpermissiontobehot @sailor-earth-1

After your tiff with Alastor, you stomped off to seek the solitude of your own room. Dealing with him was infuriating and confusing. He had a way about him where even though you couldn’t stand him, you sometimes found yourself craving his company.

Maybe you were a masochist. That would make the most sense for why you were so fucked up and had weird, conflicting feelings about the arrogant demon.

The next day when you returned to the library, you were not at all surprised to see Alastor there waiting for you. Before you could even negatively comment on his presence, he held his hands up in surrender. “My dear, I owe you the sincerest of apologies. My behavior has been abysmal, and I am quite ashamed.”

You narrowed your eyes, suspicious of his sudden change of heart. His grin widened at your hesitance. “I’ll admit, I’ve gotten carried away during our prior interactions. Let me assure you, I only have the best of intentions. I would like us to be comrades. After all, as previously established, we can help each other. I am still dedicated to helping you return to your world.”

“Whatever, Alastor,” you brushed him off, pinching the bridge of your nose, your patience lacking. “I really don’t have the mental capacity for this right now. Just… keep your pervy hands and weird opinions to yourself. That’s all I ask.”

His lips peeled back further to make his already creepy grin look even more sinister. “Of course, my dear. As you wish.”

You weren’t stupid. You’d be a fool to think that he was being genuine, but at the same time, he was one of the most powerful beings in Hell. As you had already concluded, it couldn’t hurt to let someone like that help you, even if he had selfish intentions. It was just a matter of not falling victim to his advances.

Yet again, the two of you hit the books, making yourselves comfortable on the couch. Much to your relief, he stayed on the opposite end rather than crowd you with his overbearing presence. Instead, he kept to himself, humming softly as he skimmed through the pages of the books, seemingly content with the tedious task of research.

After intricately combing through five different books on magical travel, your eyelids started to get heavier, no longer able to concentrate. Not long after, you found yourself dozing off, your limbs going slack as you unintentionally slid down on the couch until you were met with a cushioned surface, enabling you to soundly fall asleep.

It wasn’t clear how much time had passed. It could have been merely a few minutes, or several hours. Either way, you were extremely comfortable and didn’t feel like moving.

Unfortunately, a voice nearby caused you to stir, interrupting your glorious nap. “Al, you soft son of a bitch.”

“Good evening, Husker. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Alastor’s voice sounded odd. Deeper and strangely close by, whereas Husk was clearly speaking from another part of the room. Still, even knowing that others were present, you couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes, the allure of sleep keeping you content.

“How long you been sitting here like this?” the cat demon snickered.

“Oh, it’s difficult to say,” Alastor sighed candidly. “To be frank, my friend, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the situation.”

Husk’s deep laughter echoed softly throughout the library. “So your aggressive approach didn’t pan out, huh? What a surprise. Always knew your bark was worse than your bite. Now you’re just a teddy bear.”

“Is there a reason for your visit? If so, I do wish that you’d just get on with it. I do not enjoy being mocked.”

“Settle down,” Husk prompted. “I’m not here to ruffle your feathers. I was coming to relieve you and help out the girl with research, but seeing as you’re so comfortable, I guess I’ll just be on my way.”

“Do not leave me here,” the Radio Demon warned, the static in his voice thickening with subtle rage. “Do something. Now.”

“You’ve slayed Overlords. You can’t manage to push a weak human off of your shoulder?”

“Husker.”

“Alright, alright,” he relented, sensing Alastor’s tone. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

A firm pressure on your shoulder followed by an abrupt shake quickly alerted you to the situation that you were in. Eyes fluttering open, you tilted your head back to see that you had been pressed up against Alastor, using his body as a pillow.

You immediately shot up, giving yourself a head-rush as you did so. “Oh… Uh, Alastor, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…”

At a loss for words, you felt your cheeks reddening with embarrassment as you glanced at Husk who had an amused expression on his face.

Quickly rising from the couch and stretching his limbs, Alastor brushed off your apology. “Think nothing of it, my dear. I am glad to be of assistance, and I hope that you are now fully rested.”

Okay, what the hell? Who was this new Alastor? He went from being perverted and possessive to kind and charming? No, something was off. There was no way that his personality could have changed so dramatically overnight, but now was not the time to interrogate him about it.

“Yeah, uh, much better. Thanks. I’m… going to go take a shower,” you muttered, trying to find any reason to leave the library immediately.

Before either Alastor or Husk had a chance to respond, you practically sprinted out the door and ran for your room where you plopped face-down on the bed and released a muffled groan. You were slightly convinced that you were dying of embarrassment and that was the real reason you were trapped in Hell.

Sighing heavily, you eventually got up and took a cold shower, washing away the essence of Alastor that might have clung to you when you laid on him. Shortly after, you dried off and walked back to your room, shocked to find Charlie and Vaggie waiting for you with concerned expressions.

“Um, hey?” you greeted nervously. “What’s up?”

Vaggie narrowed her eyes and scoffed while Charlie took a more delicate approach. “So, listen… we’re so glad to hear that you’re becoming more and more comfortable here, but…” she trailed off, not sure how to proceed and turning to her girlfriend for help.

Crossing her arms, Vaggie stated bluntly, “Don’t hook up with Alastor.”

Mouth agape, you struggled to find the words to convey your bewilderment. “Um, I’m sorry, what ? Why the hell would you say that? I have no intention of spending more time with him than necessary, let alone that .”

Rolling her eyes, Vaggie countered, “Look, it’s no secret that he’s taken a liking to you. He’s a determined little shit and he will try to charm his way into your good graces. His whole persona is based on his ability to manipulate. It’s just better to not get involved with him. If I had it my way, he wouldn’t even be allowed in the hotel, but what’s done is done.”

“Okay? What exactly does that have to do with me hooking up with him? You don’t think I have more restraint than that?” you questioned, still unsure as to why they were upset.

Charlie interjected again, easing the tension. “We’ve seen you with him and things seem to be getting very… friendly. Husk told us you slept with him…” Ugh, it was like Angel’s prior accusations all over again.

“ On him,” you clarified defensively. “We were doing more research and I passed out on his shoulder! That’s it! Listen, I don’t trust him any more than you do. You don’t need to lecture me about staying on guard. That’s all I’ve been doing since I arrived here.”

Charlie bit her lip and gave you an apologetic look while Vaggie’s expression softened a little. “We didn’t mean to ambush you,” Charlie added. “We just wanted to make sure that you were okay and that he wasn’t forcing you into anything. We’re still getting to know him ourselves.”

“No, it’s fine,” you replied, waving your hand dismissively. “I get it, and I appreciate it. I didn’t mean to come off as bitchy, I’m just… stressed, I guess.”

“Understandable,” Vaggie chimed in, no longer appearing as hostile as she did a minute ago. “We’re still looking for answers on how to get you back to your world, and I can only imagine how terrifying and crazy this has been for you, but we want to make sure that your head is in the right place. Stay away from Alastor.”

“You called, little moth?”

Turning towards the entryway, Alastor stood proudly, twirling his staff nonchalantly in his hands.

Growling, Vaggie snarled, “Do you really have to be here all the time? Don’t you have somewhere else to be? A seedy back alley, perhaps? Busying yourself with souls to torment?”

“Ha!” he exclaimed, amused by Vaggie’s unwavering disdain for him. “Darling girl, this is where my priorities lie for the time being. Fear not, I have no intention of interjecting into what I’m sure is a very fascinating conversation.”

“Then why are you here?” she snapped, flexing her fingers angrily like she was trying to hold back from choking him.

Widening his permanent grin, he turned his attention to Charlie before replying cooly, “It appears you have a visitor.”

“Me?” Charlie asked, perplexed.

“Yes, my dear,” he confirmed, resting on his staff that he had stopped fiddling with. “Your guest is waiting for you in the parlor.”

The three of you began to head towards the door to see who had arrived, but Alastor whipped his staff out in front of you, preventing you from going any further.

“No, no, no, darling. Not you.” Charlie and Vaggie didn’t seem to notice as they continued out of the room, leaving you alone with the Radio Demon.

Eyeing him skeptically, you asked, “Why not?”

He almost looked… nervous? You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but it was an uncharacteristic look for him. Though his smile remained, his demeanor wasn’t his usual arrogant and unbothered self. “Believe me when I say that it is in your best interest to remain here.”

Worrying your lip, you replied, “Alastor, I really don’t think that it’s a good idea for you and I to be alone together anymore.”

Tiling his head to convey his confusion, he asked, “Oh? And why is that?”

Swallowing thickly, you muttered, “I-I just… um… people are starting to think--”

Before you could finish your thought, an unfamiliar voice was drawing nearer, distracting you.

“...permission to enter my own hotel? Foolish daughter. You may work here, but this hotel is mine, as is everything else in Pride Ring. Now, where is our exotic guest?”

Though he was playing it off well, you noticed how Alastor went rigid as the voice got closer. Listening more intently, you could hear multiple sets of footsteps along with Charlie begging, “No! Dad, please just listen to me! Don’t--”

Not a moment later, a strange, yellow-eyed demon burst through the door, beaming right at you, followed by a very nervous Charlie. Vaggie was nowhere to be seen.

The excited demon was taller than you, though not as tall as Alastor. He was as pale as Charlie with similar rosey cheeks and blonde hair. He was adorned with a white and red tuxedo with dress pants and a cane with an apple on the end. His toothy smile was just as wicked as Alastor’s, and left you with a queasy feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“Ah, there you are. Look at you!” he proclaimed before surging forward and taking your hands in his, pulling you harshly towards him.

You stumbled forward, tripping on your own feet but managing to find your balance before he danced around you, inspecting you closely. Quirking a brow at him, you weren’t keen on the idea of someone looking you over so intimately.

Catching you off-guard, he suddenly reached forward and cupped your face with his hands as he ran his thumbs across your cheeks. Instinctually, you smacked his hands away, just as you had done previously with Alastor. “Seriously? What is it with you demons and lack of personal space?” you snapped, now seething with irritation.

He stood back, clearly surprised by your tenaciousness. “Feisty, aren’t we?” he chuckled, fiddling with his bow tie before straightening his posture. “Oh, we’re going to get along just fine. I can see that.”

“I’m sorry,” you replied with exasperation. “Who are you?”

Smiling wider, he answered, “I’m Lucifer, the King of Hell, my delectable little human. And you’re coming with me.”

#hazbn hotel #alastor #radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfiction #charlie magne #vaggie #husk #hazbin husk #the radio demon #imaginary fanfiction

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lu-undy · 3 years

Text

Chapter 64 - SBT

Here it is!

"Meow?"

"Mmh." Mundy grumbled under his blanket.

"Meow…?"

Perle tried to dig him up with her fluffy paws and Mundy heard her claws scratch the blanket repeatedly.

"Leave me alone. I don't wanna do anything today."

"Meow…"

Perle laid on top of Mundy, on top of the blanket, crushing him with all her cloudiness. He sighed.

"Pearl?"

She purred and Mundy heard it from under the duvet.

"Pearl… I can't do this."

"Meow."

"I can't go on. It hurts too much and I don't know where I'm going. Everyday I wake up and I can't bear it. Sometimes… Sometimes I even come to think that it would have been better if I didn't know him."

"Meow?"

"Because then, I wouldn't have absurd expectations with people, and I could maybe find someone. Or I'd have stayed alone but it wouldn't hurt as much."

Perle brushed her head on Mundy's, on top of the blanket. Mundy uncovered his head and she bathed him, licking him repeatedly.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do with my life. I know he wants me to take care of you. I am and I always will. You're our baby. I'm just… It's sad he didn't see you grow up. You're a cat alright, not a baby anymore."

"Meow." Perle now licked his face. Mundy closed his eyes and let her do.

"I go to bed everyday thinking that the next day I would forget about him. And everyday I wake up and he's the first and only thing I can think about."

Mlem, mlem, mlem, mlem…

"And it's not like I'm doing nothing either. My days are pretty full with everything I do with Maurice. Especially now that it's full blown winter, lots of poor folks need help."

Mlem, mlem, mlem, mlem…

"And I know I have it infinitely better than them. But I can't help it. I feel lower than anything else on Earth. I know I should be more grateful that I have a roof, some heating, food, and you, baby… But I can't help it."

Mlem, mlem, mlem, mlem…

"And it doesn't get better at night. I fall asleep and I see him, I talk to him, I… I see us doing all the things we didn't have time to do. I saw us dining in a restaurant, getting drunk silly in a pub, hunting together, him teaching me French… I see it all. I see all these stories that I'd love to tell about us… But they only happen in my head."

Mlem, mlem, mlem, mlem…

"In my dreams, I feel him, I feel his eyes on mine, his hand in mine. I feel his warmth when I hug him, I smell his perfume and all… I even… I even kissed him."

Mlem, mle-meow?

"His lips are thin, warm and slick. It's almost like he spells words on my lips with his, or maybe not words but… feelings? Sometimes he kisses me and it says 'you're safe with me', sometimes it says 'I let myself be vulnerable with you, because I trust you', or even just 'I missed you'... He gives the best bloody kisses."

Mlem, mlem, mlem, mlem…

"I don't know how he does it. Anytime he kisses me, I can just say 'Bloody hell, I love you so much I don't even understand it myself.' But then, when it's in a dream, I say 'I miss you', or at least I try to make my lips say it. I don't know, maybe that's just a pile of nonsense… It makes sense to me."

"Meow."

"What would you do if you saw Papa again?"

Perle brushed her head on Mundy repeatedly. She gently stroked his face in the softest manner.

"Hmm… Yeah, same for me. I'd tell him exactly that."

He grabbed the pack of cigarettes next to his bed and lit one.

"Meow…"

Perle stood up and walked to the edge of the bed. She hopped down to the thin kitchen top opposite the bed and then to the floor, before going to the door and scratching repeatedly.

"Yeah, just a second, baby. What is it you running away all the time now? And before you go, where were you yesterday? It's not the first time it happens. I kept on calling and you didn't come. Is something wrong with you?"

Perle only answered by scratching the door more impatiently.

"Fine, you're a grown up now and I guess you don't need your Dad… Maybe I'm just old and grumpy."

Mundy got out of bed and opened the door before returning to his morning routine, a cigarette between his lips.

The morning got him quite busy. More and more poor souls were suffering from the season's usual illnesses and the queue to the Doc' was getting longer and longer. A few of those people were on soup duty but obviously were told to not approach any food so Mundy had to step up.

"Gosh…" Mundy's teeth were chattering under the cold. The line of poor people seemed to never end at the soup stand as he served them one after the other. It lasted over two hours but in the end he was done.

"Meow…"

Perle came trotting to him and dropped something on the floor.

"What's that, baby?"

He crouched down and realised it was a mouse.

"Oooh, good catch, Pearl." He scratched her head with his gloves and she purred. "But I'm hungry and freezing, come along, we need to get some lunch."

Mundy walked quickly in the streets and entered the first shop on his way. He exited with some food and rushed back to the van.

"Right."

He heated up his food on his camping stove and ate it, sharing bits with Perle on top of her cat food. She didn't eat much of it.

"This winter's quite harsh, kitty cat. You cold?"

Perle leapt on his lap, on the couch and rolled into a ball of fur.

"Here, look what I found the other day… I cut it and arranged it a bit. It should fit you now."

Mundy grabbed a piece of cloth from the pile on the couch next to him.

"Let me help you wear it, but you gotta stand up, there we go…" It was a thick scarf that Mundy had cut and re-arranged to cover most of her back and belly. He tied a knot neatly on her belly and scratched her head. "What d'you say?"

Perle walked around, spinning slowly.

"It's wool, it'll keep you warm. And for the colour, you can't see it but it's… It's pink."

"Meow?"

"Like the collar he'd chosen for you."

Perle sat up and looked at Mundy tenderly.

"Meow."

"I know, it's silly. I didn't do it on purpose. I just… There were all these scarves and the choice was so big that I had to find something. I wasn't gonna take black or nonsense like that. You're a beautiful lady cat. So, uh… I thought maybe…"

Perle went to the door and scratched it repeatedly.

"Wanna go out? There… Door's open. Be careful out there, baby."

"Meow!"

"What are you-?"

She went to her plate of food and took a mouthful of it without eating it before leaping out of the van.

"Pearl!"

She ran fast and away. Mundy frowned. Something was wrong with her. He ran off after her.

"Pearl! Come back!"

It had all started when she stole food from his plate. He didn't think much of it but it had turned to the point where she did eat his food and hers before he could turn and sit down to have his plate. She had put on weight and after a couple of months, she had lost it. But her behaviour was still odd. Leaving before going to bed only to return hours later. Mundy thought he had lost her a few times and stayed up to look for her in town. Hunting wild beasts was easy but looking for a cat in a city was impossible!

But Mundy decided it was enough. He would now see with his own eyes where she runs off to and why. There must have been a reason.

"Pearl, wait for me!"

She didn't listen and darted through the streets as fast as she could. Mundy followed the fast white cloud until they arrived in a dead end. He was out of breath and his heavier smoking wasn't helping his lungs at all. He coughed and held his chest.

"Pearl… What're you doing?" A coughing fit seized him and he had to take a minute to calm his breath and his heart down.

"Meow." She hopped in a crate and hid there in the corner.

"What are you doin' in that box…?"

Mundy approached it and crouched down. He gave a knock.

"Baby, it's me. Why are you hiding? Come out." He said softly.

"Meow!"

"I'm gonna open the crate, ok?"

"Meow!" She answered defensively.

"No, kitty cat, I'm tired of you bein' weird. If somethin's botherin' you, then by God I'll find it, Lu' told me to take care of you and I will!"

Perle jumped out of the crate and sat on the lid.

"Meow."

"What?"

"Meow."

"I promise I won't be mad at you, whatever it is. C'mon, baby, you know it's only me. Dad only wants to help you…"

Perle bent her face closer to him and as he crouched down, he got his face closer and rubbed it against her.

"Why do you act like this…? I love you and I only want to protect you…"

"Meow…"

"Is this where you always come when I look for you?"

"Meow…" She rubbed her face against his.

"Are you hiding from me? Did I do or say something wrong?"

Perle stopped cuddling with her Dad and scratched the crate beneath her before slipping in.

"Meow."

"You scared?" Mundy looked around. "There's only you and me here, baby."

"Meow."

"Can I open it?"

A paw slipped out of the crate. Perle was trying to open it.

"Alright, I'll open it now…"

Mundy opened the panes one by one slowly.

"Whatever's out there and bothering you, I'll find it and I'll keep you safe, ok, baby? I'm here for you, I'm here for - Jesus Christ!"

Mundy's jaw dropped.

"You've got babies?!"

Perle was laying at the bottom of the crate and a litter of kittens was squeaking and slithering in their mother's fluff.

"Crikey, that's fantastic! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Meow…"

"My God, I wasn't there for any of this at all! I'm so sorry, baby, you must have gone through a lot on your own… And I kept on bothering you with my problems while you were carrying actual babies?! Hold on…"

Mundy frowned.

"Does that make me… a grandpa?" He raised a curious eyebrow. "Oh Christ… I'm a grandpa now…"

"Meow…"

"Right, yeah, let's bring them back home. Stay in the crate with them, I'll carry you all."

Mundy took the crate between his arms and lifted it off the ground before heading back to the van.

"That's why you put on so much weight and you kept eatin'... You needed it. I can't believe I didn't think of it…"

He walked all the way back to the van, apologising profusely for his total lack of awareness and attention to her. He actually felt bad about himself. How on Earth had he not noticed? She was not getting fat, she was pregnant! She wasn't eating his food because she felt like she could, she needed the extra nutrients. She was actually feeding herself and a few hungry tiny balls of fuzzy fur.

"Right, first, we gotta wash everybody and count them."

Once Mundy entered the van, he put the box on the kitchen top.

Perle took one of her babies between her teeth and hopped off of the box.

"What do we have here, eh?" Perle delicately put her baby in Mundy's hands. "Ooh, it's a boy, hello, you…"

The tiny creature squeaked.

"Oh my God, baby, you're so small…! Alright, here we start the water, let me turn on the heater towards the pipe to heat it up faster… Nice… I wash them and we need to find names too, eh?"

"Meow." Perle agreed as she took all her babies out of the crate one by one.

"How old are they…? A few days I'd say… Hm, let's see, you mister, you're black and you got white paws. It's like you're wearing gloves. Glovy! Is that a good name?" He rinsed the dirt off of the kitten gently.

"Meow."

"Alright, let me find a towel… There. You stay there, little fellow. Next!"

Perle passed him another baby.

"Ooh, that's a lady, hello, baby lady. You're black with a white patch on your face… Looks like a diamond so you're gonna be Diamond, is that ok?"

"Meow."

"Great." Mundy put her in the towel and wrapped it up around the two squeaking kittens. "We got Glovy and Diamond, next!"

Perle passed another kitten.

"That's also a baby lady, hello…" He gently washed her. "She's black with a… Is that a star? Yeah, let's say Star for you, is that alright, baby?"

"Meow?"

"Yeah, I'm talking to you, Pearl."

"Meow!"

"Oh you can have all the babies you like, I told ya, you'll be my baby forever." He bent down and kissed her head. She purred and waved her tail languidly. "Here, in the towel you go. Next!"

Perle handed him the next baby cat.

"Ooh, that's the last one. Hello…? Mister! Ah, a little boy we have here, oh, he's black with a few streaks of white on top of his head… Hm… What are we supposed to call you then?" Mundy rinsed him carefully and placed him in the towel. He then gently wiped the kittens one by one, as delicately as he could.

"Pearl, keep an eye on them for a second, I'm sure I kept your bed somewhere…"

"Meow?"

"Yeah, the one Papa had bought you. It's huge, chances are you and the babies can fit there."

Mundy opened a few cupboards before he found it.

"Ha! There!"

He put it on the floor and like a reflex, he sprayed a bit of Lucien's and his perfume on it. He shook it for the smell to diffuse and put it on the floor before adding one of Lucien's jackets.

"There… Now you have somewhere proper to go with the babies, not a random crate!" Mundy threw it out of the van. "Now, we take the babies. Yeah, yeah, you squeak like heaps of miniature doors, shush!"

Mundy crouched down and gently put them in the basket where Perle lay on her side. The babies easily found their mother's milk and started drinking it.

"Aw, that's sweet… But we still don't have a name for this last one. What d'you reckon?"

"Meow."

"I can't just call him 'meow', baby…"

Perle bathed him on his head, she licked and licked as the baby cat was staggering to his mother, his eyes hardly open.

"What d'you look like, eh…? I mean you just have a… a front tuft of white I guess… Maybe a few white ones left and right under yer ears… I mean… What has white on the top and on the sides eh?"

"Meow."

"What?"

"Meow."

"Baby, I usually get you but you'll have to make it clearer…"

Perle brushed her head down on Lucien's jacket while purring.

"Meow…"

"Oh Gosh… You're right…"

Mundy's eyebrows jumped. There was only really one man that he knew with a white front tuft and greying temples.

"He'll be Lu' Junior then."

"Meow?"

"Yeah, I'm not kiddin'. What d'you say?"

Perle slowly closed her eyes to Mundy, who reciprocated the cat kiss. He then bent down to kiss the top of her head.

"Right, I'll change your water and I'll give you extra food." He got busy quickly. "I put the water in a larger plate but less deep. We don't want to have the babies end up in trouble if they go there. Is that alright?"

"Meow."

"What?"

"Meoow." She answered and lowered her head.

"It's alright, I forgive you, baby. But please, next time, don't hold secrets like this, ok? Secrets are for your Papa's work. But here at home, no secrets, ok?" He brushed her head and she closed her eyes.

"Good girl… And I should be the one apologising. I should have paid more attention to you. I neglected you and that's not good. I was too sad to open my eyes and see the obvious, I'm sorry, baby."

"Meow."

"Thanks. Now, you guys sleep and I'll climb up to sleep too, ok?"

"Meow!"

"What?"

"Meeeow?" She pleaded him with her eyes.

"Right, ok, hold on…" Mundy took the cat bed with all the cats inside and lifted it until he gently dropped it on the bed. He then changed for some pyjamas, switched off the lights in the van and climbed up. "C'mere, you guys… Your mum needs me to sleep as much as I need her. Gosh that sounded weird… I meant… Oh God you're babies, you don't even realise! What am I sayin…?"

Mundy kept a hand on Perle and thanked the Lord that his bed had planks all around it such that the babies couldn't possibly fall from it.

"G'night, babies."

"Meow."

Mundy kept a hand on Perle as usual, and like a reflex, his fingers simply sank in the fur and brushed. It was therapeutic. But he realised something.

"Pearl?" He whispered and saw her silhouette turn her head to him. "I love you, baby girl, ok?"

"Meow."

He smiled and fell asleep holding Lucien's jacket with one hand and stroking Perle's fur in the other.

-- A few weeks later --

Mundy discovered that raising four curious balls of fur wasn't at all easy. He constantly had to keep an eye on them as they were naturally attracted to anything, regardless of the potential danger of it. The kittens were at that age where they would explore anywhere they could and they would touch anything, scratch it, bite it or even, fight over it.

It kept Mundy busy and quite happy as he felt that indeed Perle had given him more to do. But the mum cat was helping to raise the kitties too of course. She would always watch after them and show them a good example.

"Oi, Glovy, don't push your brother away from the food, there's enough for everyone."

They were adorable and almost every afternoon Mundy would open his door to the kids after school. The poor orphans loved to see the kittens. Mundy let them pet them and feed them treats occasionally. It made the kids so happy that Mundy could hardly refuse.

"Mundy?"

Mundy raised his head and Maurice was standing there amongst the kids.

"Oh, hey Maurice. You alright?"

"Oui, thanks. Kids, why don't you go and play football, eh? I think we have a new ball for you, go and ask Johnny."

The kids said goodbye to the cat family and rushed out to play.

"May I?"

"Sure."

Maurice stepped inside of the van and shut the door after him.

"Pearl, you keep an eye on the babies."

"Meow."

Both Mundy and Maurice sat on the couch.

"Want some coffee?"

“Non, thank you, I have just had one with the doctor."

"Alright. What brings you here?"

"Them." Maurice pointed at the kittens.

"Oh, why?"

"Do you intend to keep them all?"

"I don't know but they're too young to leave their mum now, so I can't give them away. Why? You want one?"

"Non, non, I was just thinking that the van was a bit narrow to keep five grown cats."

"Yeah, that's true… I never really stopped to think about it. But eh, we've got time to see it coming."

"Fair enough."

Silence fell, which was only interrupted by the occasional mewls.

"How are they?" Maurice asked.

"Good, they're growing up nice and healthy. They're full of energy too, I forgot that even Pearl was like that when she was a kitten. Now she's much more calm."

"I see. And how are you, Mundy?"

"I live for them. I wake up with them, eat with them, and spend my free time trying to prevent them from wrecking anything while raisin' them."

"You don't sound completely happy about it….?" Maurice could feel it.

"No, I'm alright, I'm as happy as I can be, eh."

"Mundy, not to me. I know you."

Mundy sighed.

"I'm not lying. I am as happy as I can be."

"I have seen you happier."

"That was a long time ago."

"But that means you can be more happy and you are not."

"Maurice…"

"You need to take a break."

Mundy's eyebrows jumped.

"A break? A break from what? And what d'you want me to do?"

"What do you do Mundy, when you're tired of everything and everyone?"

"I drive to the desert but I'm not gonna do that, it's freezin' out there and I need to stay in the city to get food for the kitties. I can't go away for too long. And what about you? I'm supposed to work here with you."

Maurice smiled through his unkempt beard.

"You need a break. Gather everything you need for you and them and take a couple of weeks off. We can do with one less person."

"Maurice-"

"I don't like to pull ranks but this is an instruction from your boss." Maurice stood up. "If I even see just your shadow roaming around, I will have a serious chat with you, Mundy." He smiled as he went to the door. "And people don't like it when I get serious."

"You're always serious, mate…" Mundy smiled back. "Right, I'll take a few weeks. When d'you expect me back?"

"When you can be as happy as before."

"Mate, it would take me more than just a few weeks."

"Did I stutter?"

Maurice smiled as he slipped off of the van. Mundy's eyes fell on his fluffy family.

"Well, you heard it guys. I guess I'm on holidays now."

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #SBT

7 notes · View notes

peachyteabuck · 5 years

Text

cold-blooded & perfect

summary: In a move less orthodox than your father, Lagertha invades a country expecting to raid it, but instead merely takes its princess – you. While you’re surprised, you’re not necessarily unhappy with her sudden change of heart.

pairing: Lagertha x Reader

words: 2,896

trigger warnings: kidnapping, taking of virginity, vaginal fingering, poor family ties

notes/other: Breaking into the Vikings fandom hell YEAH. feels good.

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

The Vikings invade your homeland with fire in their eyes and bloodlust on their tongues. The small, untrained army assigned to protect your country is defeated in a matter of minutes, those left with heartbeats either taken captive for later use or killed when they drop their swords. Your father, still in his most lavish robes from the festivities the night before, is forced out to the capital’s center with his hands up and his spine perpendicular to the sharp blade of one of their savage warriors.

From your place in your unscathed room, far up in the vast castle, you anxiously watch the exchange between the leaders. It’s there, as your eyes follow your father’s footsteps, that you notice the rest of the army fathering round him like flies swarm an almost-deceased rabbit; nearly vibrating with excitement, unable to stop their twitchy movements as they circle his shaking form.

While your country is small, its position lining the ocean shore makes it a necessary siege on the pathway to the more inwards parts of the continent. You’ve known this all your life, you know your father has known this for all of his, and you know the foreigners’ leader knows this now.

You can’t quite understand how this woman, this woman decked in the same armor as her underlings, has climbed her way to the top of whatever hierarchy they’ve formed. You can tell she’s powerful though, can tell she isn’t afraid to grasp whole worlds in her hands. As she speaks to your father, the small smirk her lips have twisted themselves into manipulates your insides in a way you cannot describe, and do not try to begin to.

“So,” she asks him, words choppy and accented and curious. “You are king here?”

Like those loyal to her, she circles him. Unlike the rest of them, though, she is not waiting for the creature to give up. Oh, never would she miss the chance to take down anyone who stood in her pathway to victory, to gold, to whatever it is she craves. Her bright teeth remind you of a she-wolf, and your father’s trembling body reminds you of an injured goat.

“Yes,” he answers truthfully. His works shake worse than his limbs as she replies to his numerous questions.

“And do you value the protection of your people?”

Your father gulps but stands a little straighter. “Of course. God gave me the crown to serve Him as well as my people.”

The woman shrugs and leans on her sword, with its sharped point in the ground and the handle covered by her hands. “You know, I’ve heard a lot about your god, you single, individual god,” the women and men behind her chuckle, but she remains stoic. “Does this god accept sacrifices?”

“He sacrificed his Son for us, and in turn we sacrifice for Him, to show our love and appreciation,” your father speaks lowly, words more confident and steadier. The rehearsed string of sentences flowing easily from his lips, and you roll your eyes and pull away from the window. The king, your father, the ruler of your country, the father of your motherland, is no holy man. The mistresses he’s had out-number the maggots in a deer’s corpse, he couldn’t identify the Holy Bible from a child’s drawings made in pools of mud, the cross he supposedly wears has become tarnished from lack of human touch.

Whatever. If he gets beheaded in the town’s square the man you’ve been betrothed to since the very second the doctor turned his nose up at your absence of a penis. You know very little about the Viking culture, their religion, their gods, but you assume they’re smart enough to know killing a princess gains them nothing but a martyr for the opposite side.

The sound of your name pulls you from your disgusted internal monologue.

“And how old is this daughter?” The woman asks. Your father is now on the ground – not injured, just a coward.

“Old enough to wed,” he replies. He doesn’t seem scared anymore. You, though, tremble in fear.

“Then a truce,” the woman smiles brighter than the sun and her eyes gleam. “I will take the woman and we will leave your land. If you promise no contact, my people and I will not invade as long as I am ruler.”

“Okay,” your father agrees immediately. “I will allow my daughter to go with you for my country’s safety.”

Your eyes bulge as you realize what just happened.

What the fuck.

You have mere heartbeats to process the chaos your future has been thrown into before several men are storming into your room. To your surprise, the men don’t grab at you – they simply stand by the door to prevent you from leaving. You’re their captor, but at least they’re passive about it.

From behind them, the blonde woman from the square emerges. She smirks as her eyes trail your body from your bare feet to your sleep-mused hair.

“Congratulations, princess,” she tells you, playful tone floating through the air like fae. “You’ve saved your nation from the savage beasts that are the Vikings.”

You’re allowed to pack one trunk – the woman, who introduces herself as Lagertha as you shove your mother’s locket deep into the pocket of your favorite winter coat - already knows your name, and soon her routine questions and vies for attention turn personal, intimate.

Nevertheless, your answers remain curt through the entire time you’re with her in your chambers.

“I heard your mother died when you were young. I’m terribly sorry for your loss,” she whispers in the darkness of night as you both lay in her temporary bed, a straw thing a few feet from your own plush amenities.

You don’t say anything back, forcing through the uncomfortable silence with purse lips.

A beat. You can hear Lagertha turn to face you as she speaks. “Do you miss her?”

You sigh, then nod. “Sometimes. I don’t really remember her. She died when I was pretty young, and she had a lot of kingdom-y stuff to attend to when she was alive.”

Another beat. Your breaths come out shaky, your attempts not to shed tears

“Do you have any siblings?” she tries to change the subject as she notices the tears welling up in your eyes and reflecting the bright half-moon.

“Six older sisters,” you tell her honestly. “All married off and living in foreign lands, like I was supposed to…”

The silence between you two is heavy, blanketing you heavier than the furs keeping the cold night air from your skin. Neither of you speak for a long time, unsure of how to proceed. It’s awkward, painfully so, when you’re shoved into a small ship and told to sit with a woman who had injured her ankle hunting a few hours prior to boarding the small boat.

You and her are silent most of the journey, the conversations you manage to get yourself to engage with short, choppy, impersonal. Similar situations happen with Lagertha each time she offers food, water, an extra fur, someone else to sit next to.

The first full sentence you speak is when you’re brought to Lagertha’s bed, the trunk carried by two of the most muscular women you’ve ever seen in your life.

It’s once they exit that the words leave your lips. “Are the women here warriors as well as the men?”

Lagertha laughs a little as she drinks from a gauntlet you don’t remember seeing before now. “Of course. They’re women, not frail babies.”

You don’t respond, simply looking around the room. Lagertha leaves you alone after that, allowing you to unpack your things and learn the map of the house of which you’ll be living.

The two of you don’t speak until dinner, an affair she keeps small for, it seems, your benefit. It’s just one of her sons – Bjorn, and his wife. This isn’t the first time you’ve seen the Vikings eat, nor is it the first time you’ve heard them speak in their native tongue, a language foreign to your ears. But, it is the first time you haven’t been able to hide yourself from such savagery.

They bite into their meats like bears tasting the first taste of flesh in months and their unintelligible babble rakes in your ears like rusty knives through hardened wood. All of their words seem angry, biting, even when they laugh or smile.

For the entirety of the meal Lagertha keeps her hand on your lower back, a gesture you believe (hope) is meant to comfort you.

The verbal exchanges between you two are scarce, especially since you’d insisted of sleeping in a different bed as your captor.

It’s about a week in this new, still-strange place when Lagertha approaches you as you hunt through your things for something, anything to do. She can tell you’re bored, mind-numbingly so as you spend your days pacing her keep. It reminds her of a dog locked in a pen without straw or bones or rocks and far enough away from society they and their masters do not breathe the same breaths.

She seems to understand what you’re looking for, sitting on the bed. You’re kneeling on the floor, and you can feel her feet bump at your hip as she speaks.

“What did you back in your home country?” Lagertha asks you.

“Not much,” you admit. “Back home for me is…it’s quite different from here…” Even as you speak your native tongue, you struggle to find the right words. “Women don’t do much. They, they all, they all think that we’re weaker somehow, that we can’t do much. As a royal all I was permitted to do was learn to sew, cook. A servant once taught me some medicinal skills – so I studied those old books sometimes.”

Lagertha sees you struggling, and as she speaks she attempts to comfort you with a hand on your shoulder. “Would you like to continue those things?”

You inhale deeply, considering the question. Lagertha’s not a malicious woman – at least not to you. So far she’s been kind, welcoming; doesn’t seem like the type to deny you such basic commodities as the ones you would ask for. In hopes of not feeling the sharp pain of rejection, you respond with the polite passivity you’d had quite aggressively drilled into your vernacular. “It’d be a nice pastime, yes.”

Lagertha smiles, your eyes locking together. Hers are bright, playful, while yours remain stilled with fear. “You are quite small in your speech, princess. I hope you in time learn to be more upfront with yourself, your wants, your needs.”

You swallow at the thick knot in your throat, one that isn’t quite terrified but still shakes when she pushes a small strand of hair behind your hear. “It is improper for a lady to be so forceful.”

Lagertha simply laughs. Big, chesty, head thrown back laughs. “Is that what they taught you? To be some meek little doll?” You nod meekly with small movements. “Then I hope you learn life is much different here.”

It’s the day after that you find some crude crafting supplies laid out onto your bed – some thick, blunt needles and furs and rough fabric and thread. It’s sweet, despite not being what you’re used to, despite not being the finer things the servants taught you with. No more brightly-colored silken thread and soft, thin fabric. Nonetheless, it is still a gift – and one you treasure.

Winter in this region comes much sooner, and much harsher, than you had expected. Of course, the locals giggled each time you shivered at a mere featherlight kiss of the wind, but even the seer couldn’t predict how poorly the fragile skin wrapping your body was able to withstand such cold.

It’s a few night falls into the deep season when you find yourself on the small bed just outside the kitchen, shaking so hard your teeth clack together and your very bones feel as if they are freezing. In the dead of this night is when Lagertha appears to take pity on you, calling for you across the homestead for you to join her in her bed.

You reluctantly you do, body shivering violently at the raw exposure to air.

Under the furs Lagertha’s body is warm, almost painfully so against your frigid flesh. If the queen notices you shaking against her, she doesn’t say anything about it.

Wordlessly, she curls herself around you, pulling you two together. It’s not an action that’s unwelcome, but it’s still one that makes a specific type of shive run up your spine. This sort of intimacy, especially between two women, was forbidden back home. To think of a maiden or one of your father’s servant bursting in to find you – little, unmarried you - in the muscular arms of some woman who fights like a man, your heart quickens at the scandal it would bring. Just imagining the villagers, the people your father rules over, having such ammunition would plunge your country, your nation, your people, into despair.

The woman wrapped around you senses your distress. “Are you okay, love?” she asks, voice low like she’s talking to your father’s dog – a small white thing that shakes every time it rains.

Your words barely reach above a whisper. “Just thinking of home.”

She mmms in a way that makes you think she knows you’re hiding something. “Good memories or bad?”

You pull away from her a little bit, trying to find purchase on the slick furs. “They’re not memories at all.”

Lagertha pulls you back to her, resting her chin on the top of your hair. “Let me help, love,” she whispers just over the shell of your ear. “Let me help you.”

Her rough fingertips, her scarred hands, they run over your skin with featherlight touches over your many skin blemishes inherited from your mother.

Still, you lay passively, not sure what to do. Your headmistresses over the years had described sex not just as an act between man and wife, but also something that will hurt, that will be quick, that will simply be to solidify an heir, then to strengthen the diplomatic capabilities of the family you’d be married off to. No matter your education, you can still feel the heat between your legs pool slightly faster than your trembling heart can convince you to stop.

Lagertha daintily pushes the two sides of the slit in your address apart, just enough to give her access to the side of your hip and upper thigh. Lightly, as if not to scare you, she places her calloused, scarred, battle-torn hand there. It’s nice, surprisingly enough, it’s nice to see her warmth there. “Have you ever been with a woman?” She asks. It’s not accusatory, rather inquisitive. A genuine question stemming from genuine interest.

You think of the time you kissed one of your lady’s maids when you were twelve and she was thirteen, of the time you snuck away under a table in the kitchen and palmed at the breasts of a kitchen maid when you were both sixteen. Each experience more intimidating than this one – most likely due to the lack of dread from the idea of your father or headmistress or anyone finding you in such a state of sin.

Lagertha’s teeth bite into the tender flesh of your neck, leaving marks there. You’re happy your thick hair covers such an intimate spot, but something inside you whispers to expose such skin to the murderous winter as to alert the fellow Kattegat residents of your newfound status as lover rather than captive.

Her fingers dip into your virgin heat with patience, the woman watching your face’s every movement as she works each digit into you. “Do you like that, princess?” she asks, voice deep and low. “Do you like the way I feel inside of you?”

You nod, unable to speak anything but high-pitched whines.

“Good,” she purrs. Soon she has three fingers working in and out of you, crooking them so that all you see is hot white with her thumb rubbing at the crest of your center so behind all that is stars. It’s not long before the hot coil in your lower intestine becomes too tight, too tight to bear and you’re screaming for her to keep going don’t stop please my queen do not stop for anything in the world and she’s smiling into the base of your neck and nipping at your collarbones and telling you she wouldn’t let go of you for promise of Valhalla and suddenly-

Suddenly you’re both gasping and unable to breath, squeezing your eyes shut and keeping them locked on Lagertha’s form now over you with her hand driving into you, body relaxed and tense.

You collapse (when did you sit up?) onto the furs with your chest expanding painfully. “Oh, God,” you moan with the world still spinning around you.

“That’s not me,” Lagertha says with a smirk. “But I’ll happily take the compliment.”

You almost, almost have the energy to laugh at her stupid joke, but instead you merely throw her a small smile and curl back into the warmth of her body. Part of you thinks that maybe, just maybe this is the start of a love you don’t have to fear.

#lagertha #lagertha x reader #vikings #vikings imagine #vikings fanfic #lagertha smut #this is so self indulgant ngl #lukis writes stuff

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rukakikuchi · 4 years

Text

Dreamcatcher “Scream” MV analysis and Dystopia storyline theory

Or…

How Gahyeon (unintentionally) messed everything up!

Okay, all joking aside, I do think that Gahyeon does play a focal role in the story for this latest comeback. And these are all just my theories based on how I interpret the story shown in the MV, so keep an open mind when reading!

So without further ado, let’s get right into discussion of Dreamcatcher’s latest comeback!

…

With “Dystopia: The Tree of Language” opening up an entirely new storyline outside of the “Nightmare” series we had been following up until now, we must disregard what we have received from previous Dreamcatcher lore and examine the new possibilities for what could come next.

In the previous storylines we’ve gotten for Dreamcatcher, Yoohyeon was a focal role in the story of the “Nightmare” series.

She was the one who killed the spider in “Fly High” that led to everyone becoming cursed and was the catalyst for her eventual fall to darkness.

From “You and I”, to “Deja Vu”, Yoohyeon was a major focus of the story.

But now, it appears that Gahyeon is the one serving as the catalyst for what we see happen in “Scream” and might become the main focus of this new “Dystopia” storyline.

But before we talk about Gahyeon and her role in the story, let’s see what we can gather of this new world we see in the music video.

Welcome to Dystopia

The world we see being depicted in “Scream” is a setting unlike anything we’ve seen thus far in Dreamcatcher’s music videos.

While some videos had a few fantasy elements, notably “Deja Vu”, they primarily focused on horror/thriller themes and imagery (ghosts, curses, witchcraft, etc.)

But “Scream” has much heavier emphasis on the fantasy elements; specifically, dark fantasy, since it still contains the darker, horror concept that has been consistent with the group.

In the “Nightmare” series, although the girls are seen performing rituals and apparently dabbling in witchcraft, they were never actually called witches.

They were “Nightmares”, girls who were cursed by a strange dark force, some of them corrupted or possessed by this entity, to be trapped in a never-ending dream.

But in “Scream”, there is no doubt they are now a real circle of witches. We see the girls not only wearing matching robes that you’d see a coven of witches wear (and we’ve seen them wear before in “Good Night” and “Fly High”), but Siyeon and Yoohyeon actually release magic from within them.

JiU in particular seems to have a strong connection to the titular “tree of language” that appears throughout the video, several scenes of her shown in a temple that might represent the inside of the tree itself.

Considering JiU is the leader of Dreamcatcher in real life, perhaps she is the guardian of the tree, and gathered allies to help her protect it, thus forming Dreamcatcher.

In fact, if we look at the album story spoiler teaser...

We see two girls on opposite sides of the tree. A girl with white hair, who we shall discuss the identity of in a bit, and a girl with dark hair, who I believe is JiU.

In any case, the tree is clearly an important part of their world, and may likely be the source of the girls’ powers. But more than that, the tree is also connected to the power of words and language.

JiU actually said during their rooftop VLIVE: “When people say good things, the tree bears white fruit, but when they say bad things, it bears black fruit.”

Perhaps this tree actually holds ancient archives of every event in history, or that it holds a great influence over everyone and its presence is what keeps peace and balance in the world.

And JiU, as the guardian spirit of the tree, helps it bear fruit of good, virtue, and light, and protect the balance with the fruit born of evil, negativity, pain, and darkness.

The very first thing we are given at the start of the music video is this…

“One day suddenly the light did not come, People forgot how to say good things.”

This means something catastrophic happened that influenced the power of the tree of language, disrupted the balance, and thus changed everything in their world. People began to spread words of hatred to those around them, because something had corrupted the tree.

The world which was once a “utopia” became a “dystopia”, and chaos and war erupted everywhere.

And I think it was Gahyeon who did this, but why and how?

Pandora’s box opened

When they released the album story spoiler teaser, we were given a glimpse of the story that “Dystopia” is telling us.

We see a little girl, reading from a book as words seem to flow out from it. Perhaps this book is connected to the tree; it contains great power and influence due to the words written in it.

However, we then see a darkness within the book start to flow out and drain away the girl’s lifeforce. Eventually she dies, but from what we’re shown in the teaser, it appears she is either reincarnated as or possessed by something sinister.

(From this moment henceforth, we shall refer to this being as “the spirit of evil”.)

What if that book wasn’t meant to be opened? That whatever contents it held weren’t meant to be read because it could corrupt a person’s heart and unleash a great evil. (Think Pandora’s Box.)

More importantly, who is this girl supposed to be? Is she supposed to represent a younger version of Handong, who wasn’t present during the video?

Frankly, no, I don’t think that’s the case. Because we do see Handong’s presence within the video. There is one dancer who is wearing a full face mask, dancing with the girls, and clearly is meant to be for Handong when she eventually returns.

So at the very least, we can assume she is also with the others as a member of Dreamcatcher, perhaps using the mask to hide her true identity.

And although we don’t see her, it’s very likely she will be incorporated into the story once she returns, so we’ll only know what Handong’s role in all of this is once that happens.

So for now, let’s just assume this little girl is someone else entirely. We see the girl is with Dreamcatcher, but they all appear sad when she dies.

They clearly cared about her deeply, but I just can’t figure out the relationship quite yet. Was she someone they were teaching magic to, or was it more of a familial bond, like a little sister?

We get these shots of JiU and Yoohyeon in the snow (which is often used to symbolize death), as well as shots later on of SuA in a black dress and umbrella. This shows all the members are in mourning over the little girl’s death.

However, I think Gahyeon takes the girl’s death the hardest. She doesn’t want to accept the fact that she’s gone; she wants to bring her back.

This leaves her vulnerable to the spirit of evil’s influence, as it lures her into the tree of language.

JiU can sense that something sinister has awakened, and hurries to try and stop Gahyeon, but as we see later, she didn’t make it in time.

When Gahyeon reaches the center of the tree, she finds a glowing crystal with strange symbols and a purple mist surrounding it. I think this represents the heart of the tree and source of its power.

Perhaps, under the influence of the spirit of evil, Gahyeon believed she could use the power of the crystal to change the events of the past and bring the girl back from the dead. But that’s an impossible wish, one that could never be granted.

And the moment Gahyeon touches it, it shatters and that’s when everything starts to go awry.

The inside of the temple represents the inside of the tree turns red, meaning it’s now starting to become corrupted by the spirit’s influence.

The purple flames that surrounded JiU (which represent the tree’s power) are red as well.

Strange red markings start covering the walls.

And a red burst of magic energy is unleashed from the tree. (Even the leaves turn blood red).

This is even reflected in the dance shots, as we see the girls dancing in a room lit up in red light, and choreography itself, as in the second chorus, Gahyeon stands at the center while everyone circles her and points at her.

So what happens now that the spirit of evil has corrupted the tree?

Seeds of evil

Although she might have had the best intent in mind, Gahyeon’s attempt at trying to revive a lost friend caused more bad than good. Because of this, her friends end up falling victim to the spirit of evil’s influence as well after it corrupts the tree.

During the first chorus, we are given a sequence of images:

Siyeon’s eye opening...

A vortex of dark purple clouds...

Siyeon walking through a forest covered in thick purple fog...

A black-and-white starry vortex...

SuA in a black dress, mask, and umbrella...

Another vortex of clouds, this time red...

The shot of the red hallway (look above).

Back shot of SuA’s umbrella...

And finally, a back shot of Gahyeon, though at a tilted angle. She’s in the same hallway, but this time it’s all white, meaning it was before the tree got corrupted.

Speaking of SuA, we also get a shot of her running through that same hallway, while being chased by a dark shadow. I believe this to be a result of the tree becoming corrupted by evil, and is now spreading to corrupt the girls.

SuA tried resisting it, but it clearly overpowered her.

Yoohyeon could sense there was danger, too, and tried to find her friends.

Now, as the darkness of the corrupted influence begins to erode the tree and spread to the girls, their memories become affected as well.

We are given shots of Gahyeon and Dami in black and white. I believe these are false memories of the two being implanted in the girls’ heads; a fake Gahyeon who spreads hurtful words, and a fake Dami who spreads lies.

This leads to Dreamcatcher breaking up.

JiU is trapped in the tree of language, Dami feels betrayed by her friends suddenly turning against her, while SuA goes to fight in the war.

Gahyeon feels immense guilt for what happened. Meanwhile, Handong goes missing (evident by her mask being left on the ground).

However, not all hope is lost.

Siyeon and Yoohyeon both feel deep down that their memories must be wrong, so they each go searching for answers on their own.

Siyeon searching through the thick fog is symbolic of her searching through her own memories, trying to find out what really happened, while Yoohyeon just wants to reunite with her friends.

So… What’s next for “Dystopia”?

The next chapter

This section will mostly just be predictions for how the next comeback will expand upon this new storyline.

Like mentioned previously, I believe that Gahyeon will play a big part in the story, as we saw her act as the catalyst for everything that went down in the video.

And as for Handong, there’s a chance that her inclusion following her return could add an interesting twist to the story, depending on what they decide to do with her role.

I also believe this new “Dystopia” storyline will continue to focus heavily on the dark fantasy aspects, and hopefully the next comeback can expand on this new world.

All we can say for now is... This is just the beginning.

I hope you guys enjoyed this analysis!

Until next time, sweet dreams! 🌙😴

#Dreamcatcher #KPop #Music #Theory #Analysis

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headoverjojo · 5 years

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Hey Tri :3 ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ You know what? I really need to know the continuum of Risotto’s Secret Garden, sono debole 😂 soooo... is Granny Tosca the Don of an enemy group? Will Prosci really kill his beloved nephew? Will Risotto cry? I need the DRAMA 💚

Esteeeeeeeee ⊂(･ω･*⊂) A H, I loved it so much 💖 And I fear you’ll throw at me many boots after reading this aaaaaa gomenasaiiiiiiiii 😂 It’s a bit looong, but I hope you’ll like it! :3

Here’s the first part!

Risotto’s secret garden: second part

(Under the cut for length!)

After that day, Risotto talked even lesser than usual. Prosciutto wasn’t around, busy with his mission, and no one dared to ask him what was in his mind. No one aside Gelato and Sorbetto, the only ones, with Prosciutto, who knew how to deal with Risotto when he was in an awful mood.

“Hey, novellino.” Sorbetto greeted, entering his office without knocking. Just he and Gelato had the right to call the way taller and buffer man “novellino”, rookie, as they had been his mentors and, by now, it was more an affectionate nickname than anything else. Risotto, instead of huffing, as he always did when he was called so, just glared at the older man, silent. Sorbetto sighed, sitting on one of the chairs in front of his Capo’s desk, looking at him for a while, in a calm and patient silence. Risotto, after a little, went back to ignore him and scribble on his papers, hoping that, seeing that he didn’t want to talk, he would have gone on his merry way.

Alas, Sorbetto knew better. He knew how to deal with his pupil, he knew that he needed time. And, lucky -or unlucky- for him, Sorbetto, when he wanted, was a really patient man, as Gelato could confirm.

As he had predicted, after a while, Risotto put down the pen, lifting his gaze on his mentor. His eyebrow was twitching, Sorbetto noticed, before looking again without fear in his red eyes. He never was scared by his almost demoniac appearance nor that he could use Metallica on him. Sorbetto knew Risotto wouldn’t ever have done it.

“So, Risotto? Ready to spit it out?” he asked, crossing his leg. Risotto grumbled and Sorbetto had to chew back a smile. It was like having to deal with a Risotto barely come out from puberty and not his feared and mature Capo, sometimes…

“I’ve nothing to spit out.” at his words, Sorbetto rolled his eyes, What was he thinking, that he was stupid or what?

“Sorry to contradict you, but even an idiot would notice that there’s been something wrong with you, in the last days. It’s about Prosciutto’s mission?” Sorbetto’s black eyes sharpened, seeing the slightest unpleasant twitch in Risotto’s mouth. Ah, so it was so…

“C’mon, novellino. You know you can rely on us.” his voice was slightly gentler, as it was something that evidently was bothering Risotto really a lot. And the things that bothered Risotto to this extent were really, really few and usually really serious.

Risotto sighed, heavily leaning on the back of his chair, closing his eyes for a little while. Why was it so difficult… but Sorbetto was right. He was letting this thing to chew him from inside and how could he lead his group, in such conditions? Maybe talking about it would have helped him for real. And Sorbetto was a discreet man, he was sure that not even a syllable would have left the office.

And so, the Capo told everything. From his first meeting with Tosca, to the warm affection he felt for the lively grandma, how he loved her as she was really his grandma, how she and the group of old ladies grew to be so important to him… and, then, he told him about Tosca’s grandson and that he was the target assigned for that mission.

Sorbetto stayed quiet and silent for a while, absorbing Risotto’s words. Now he was understanding… a really horrible situation indeed. Fate could be really a bitch, uh?

“What do you think to do, when Prosciutto will be back? Avoiding Tosca at all?” he asked, finally breaking the silence. Risotto sighed, looking at him, tired as Sorbetto rarely had seen him. This situation really was a heavy burden for him…

“I don’t know. Her grandson will be surely dead by now and this was a target related to a rival gang. I don’t even know if Tosca suspects this… how would you react knowing that your just dead grandson was a gangster while you were thinking he was a good boy? The shock could even kill her. And… and I can’t let her know that her grandson died because of me, that it was my fault.” he answered, grimacing. He could bear anything, but not the hate of the few people he loved, such as his team and, now, Tosca. Sorbetto slowly nodded, thoughtful, swinging a little his foot, as he always did when he was lost in his thoughts.

“But it’s not your fault, Risotto. We are just executors. And no,- he said, lifting a hand, blocking Risotto’s protests before he could even speak- we can’t just not execute Boss’ orders. You perfectly know that doing it would mean certain death for insubordination, so it’s not something negotiable. It has been a simple and terrible casualty, nothing more. And, in my opinion, right now what Tosca may need more is a friendly presence near her, in a so hard moment. Having you near may help her to face the mourning and get over it quicker than if she was alone.” the man pondered, in a quiet voice. Risotto listened in silence, sighing, after a while. Well… Sorbetto was right. As almost always, in the end; he was his mentor for a reason, all in all. Taking another deep breath, he nodded, earning a small from the usually serious man, before Gelato, after knocking, peeked inside, announcing Prosciutto’s return. Risotto’s heart sank again, knowing what this meant.

It was time.

Two days after Prosciutto’s return and after reading again and again his detailed report, Risotto found the strength to go again to the park. His teammate’s report didn’t leave space to doubts: Tosca’s grandson was dead. At least, as he demanded him, Prosciutto ended his life quickly and painlessly. An incredible small comfort, but better than nothing.

It seemed like time was submerged in a molasses jar. Every step was heavy and difficult, as guilt was burdening his heart. To be fair, he didn’t really think he would have found Tosca at the park, not after such a news. He had to change his mind when he saw, on her usual bench, Tosca. She was sitting on the edge, all flopped on herself, as a heavy rock was standing on her shoulders. Risotto’s heart clenched painfully, seeing her like this. It was like he was feeling her pain, it was like feeling the same pain he felt after his cousin’s sudden death. It was so heavy and overwhelming that he was feeling like he was suffocating.

Tosca lifted her head a bit, hearing Risotto approaching. A small, sad and grieving smile bent her lips, making Risotto’s heart even heavier. How much he would have given to not see her like this…

She lightly patted the spot near her, as she always did, and Risotto sat near her, silent. The clear blue sky was slightly covered by white, fluffy clouds that, when they passed in front of the sun, casted the park in a fresh shadow. The birds were chirping, the wind was gently ruffling the leaves, as always. It seemed like everything was as the same, as nothing bad just happened and Tosca, in a moment, would have asked him to hold the skein while she separated the threads… but both of them knew that that day wasn’t like others.

That was a day of mourn and gloom. And that day was time to throw away all the masks.

“I’ve heard about your grandson. I’m sorry, Tosca.” Risotto murmured, finally finding again his voice. How curious, he absentmindedly thought, that he had no problems to face the worst criminals of all Italy on daily basis, following his Boss’ orders, but now… this was the most difficult thing he had ever done, staying near to this old woman grieving for her grandson. He felt like he was dying as well.

“Thank you. But, you know… I was expecting it, soon or later. He too. With the life he had…” she trailed off, sighing. Risotto frowned, hearing those words. What…? She knew, so? And she was so tranquil knowing it?

Seeing the confusion on his face, Tosca smiled again, still sad, even tired. For the first time, Risotto saw on her all the years she truly had, the old lady hidden under her usual gleeful attitude.

“Are you asking yourself how I knew about it, hm? I know a lot of things, Risotto Nero…” Risotto froze, hearing her calling him with his full name. He… never told her his surname. How could she…?

“It’s time for you to know, my dear… but please, don’t let it make you forget the splendid friendship we have, ok?” she said in a hopeful tone. Risotto sighed, nodding, even if still wary. He couldn’t deny her this, after taking from her her grandson. In any case… in the worst case, he would have been ready with Metallica. But just as very last option.

“I know what my grandson did for living ‘cause I was the one who gave him orders, my dear.” she explained, quiet, looking ahead. Risotto, for the second time in few minutes, froze again, completely taken aback. No, wait… this meant that she…? No, it couldn’t be. He couldn’t believe it…

“As you have understood, by now, I’m indeed the Boss of the gang your Boss want to eradicate. Or, better, to absorb, as a big company does with smaller ones, eliminating who opposite to this.” she said, quietly, folding her hands on her lap. Risotto stayed silent, to give her time to explain properly. He didn’t know how he was feeling… so many upsetting news all together. He needed a bit to elaborate it all.

“My grandson was a fierce opponent of this fusion and he payed for this. I am against it too… so I guess that soon or later my turn will come, uh?” another sad smile bent her lips, as she watched Risotto. As she did many times before, she gently patted his hand, squinting at him, making Risotto’s heart hurt even more. Even with her glasses, Tosca’s eyesight was pretty poor, but she always joked about that…

“I’d like you to take the mission on you, when your Boss will give it to your team. I know it’s… a hard request… but please, my dear. You’re the only one I can trust to do this. I know you’ll be… as merciful as possible.” every word seemed to plant a red-hot blade in his heart. He lowered his head, gritting his teeth. How could she ask him, among all people, something like this…? How could she ask him to kill her, the person he considered, by now, his grandma? Did she really think he would have been able to kill her?

Would he be able to do it, all in all…?

Yes, he thought, after a while. He would have been able. Even if only to give her the most merciful and fastest death she could hope to have.

He had to be the one to kill her right because he loved her so much. He owed her it. He owed her a fast and dignified death, as she deserved. If the Boss would have sent Cioccolata and Secco, she would have suffered unbearable hours of pure pain, before finally meeting the sweet release of death. He couldn’t allow it to happen.

For her and all the love and happiness she gave him in those months, he had to overcome his pain and do it. This was her last desire: he had to fulfill it.

“I don’t want to do it.” he said, anyway, quiet. Tosca smiled again, brushing his cheek with her knuckles, as she always did, understanding what he really meant.

“I know, my dear, I know. But you have to. I know how things work, in your organization… if you don’t do exactly like the Boss says, he gets ridden of you. Risotto… you’re still so young, you have many years in front of you. Who knows, maybe one day someone will dethrone your Boss and a new era will start. You have so much time to live… you have time to even find a person you could love with all your heart. You have time to have a family. I have lived many happy years… I’m an old lady, Risotto. I’m tired. But I want to go with the same dignity as I have lived with.” Tosca replied, with a soft voice. Risotto’s lips quivered, as he was trying with all his might to hold back a sob, even if his eyes were dry as a desert. In order to not betray himself, he just nodded at her words, earning a slightly brighter smile from the old woman.

“Thank you, my dear.” she said, before getting up and, as she always did, kissing his cheek in that way that kids hated but that, instead, Risotto found so reassuring. Then, she left, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He got up just when dusk was falling and slowly come back to the HQ. No one dared to talk to him or ask what he had done all the time he had been out, not even Ghiaccio, who was never scared to speak up, surely tamed by one of Gelato’s famous glares. Risotto, on his own, didn’t say a word and just closed himself in his office, sighing. He felt… empty. So empty, so tired…

He sat down, sighing again and closing his eyes. How much he wished this all to be just a bad dream…

A ping from the laptop broke his thoughts. Risotto opened his eyes, checking the mails, paling a little when he saw it was from the Boss. The Boss usually contacted him just for one reason…

His hand was slightly trembling, when he moved the mouse to open the mail. His heart broke and his eyes stung for tears never shed, when he read the message.

“Next target: Tosca Verdi.”

#jjba #vento aureo #la squadra di esecuzione #risotto nero #granny tosca #risotto's secret garden #part two #scenario #sfw #estellea

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eirian-houpe · 4 years

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Disparate Pathways - Chapter 5

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Characters: Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle (Once Upon a Time), Maurice | Moe French, Gaston (Once Upon a Time), Spinster(s) (Once Upon a Time: Think Lovely Thoughts), Mad Hatter | Jefferson, Blue Fairy | Mother Superior, Black Fairy (Once Upon a Time), Baelfire | Neal Cassidy, Emma Swan, Prince Charming | David Nolan, Colette (Once Upon a Time), Red Riding Hood | Ruby, Widow Lucas | Granny, Dove (Once Upon a Time), Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Wicked Witch of the West | Zelena

Additional Tags: Abusive Parents, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Violence, Gun Violence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Torture, Dubious Consent, Eventual Smut, UST, First Time, Drama & Romance, Kidnapping, Extortion

Summary: Gold has a past, a past that he has rejected, but it seems one that will not let him go. Belle, daughter of Governor Maurice French has been kidnapped, along with her mother, and just as the authorities raid the organization that is holding her hostage, decides to make her own bid for freedom, unknowingly derailing an undercover sting, and Agent Milnor has not choice but to take her into 'protective custody,' but is he all that he seems? As the threads of the story grow more tangled and the threat to Belle, and to Gold, her appointed protector, grow ever more real, a growing, mutual attraction makes everything far more desperate and far too personal for Gold to ignore what he knows to be the truth.

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[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4]

Chapter 5 - Takedown

It was entirely too quiet and it made Jefferson nervous. He’d tried to find out from some of the others what was going on upstairs, but no one had been willing to share. All he knew was that they’d taken both the women up to the top floor of the house. He figured that didn’t bode well.

It certainly didn’t make his life any easier. If Rab was true to his word then some time today, the joint might of the police and the FBI’s HRT, and probably, just to add icing to the shit cake, a whole squadron of SWAT, was going to descend on the house like the wrath of God.

He checked his phone, just to make sure that it was on, with plenty of power remaining, and that he had a signal. The last thing he needed was to miss the heads up that his handler had promised to send him.

“Hey, Jared.” He started slightly when one of the other guys, Ace - a shortened version of his full name - called out Jefferson’s undercover persona. “Expecting a call from your boyfriend?”

He gave the man a sour smile, recognizing that he was being mocked and shot back in return, “Least I have one,” and made a rapid up and down motion with his fisted right hand before pointing at the guy who’d called him out.

Predictably the ‘hard man’ took immediate offense, and started toward Jefferson, his eyes full of the intention to hurt. He stood his ground. He was taller than the other man by a few inches, even though the guy was heavier set, forcing the other man to look up as soon as they came toe to toe.

“Was there something?” Jefferson asked sarcastically, then lowering his voice to a dangerous growl added, “Because unless there is… Horace… then get the fuck out of my face.”

“Tough words, pretty boy,” Ace snarled, “but do you got the balls to back em up?”

Faster than the man evidently anticipated, Jefferson grabbed his hand and pulled the pudgy fingers against the front of his jeans, trusting in the shock tactics to keep himself from harm.

“What do you think, Ace?” he asked, leaning down until he was nose to nose with the other man. “Care to take it for a spin?”

The man backpedaled, pulling away so fast that he almost fell over his own feet in his haste to put some space between himself and Jefferson, snatching his hand away and out of Jefferson’s grasp.

“You stay away from me, you fucking freak!” Ace squeaked.

“Methinks the man protesteth too much,” Jefferson teased. “After all, you were the one that came at me first.”

“Can it, you two!” Jefferson half turned at the sound of the other voice, a tall, leather-clad man with a scruffy beard and a missing hand came out into the hallway from one of the downstairs rooms. “Jared, you’re wanted upstairs. Ace, get in here… quit baiting the bloody man!”

Glad for a reprieve, even if it did come from Jones, an unwelcome bastard at the best of times, Jefferson headed for the stairs and started to climb, on the way up thinking to himself that ‘upstairs’ was a fairly vague description of who needed him, given that there were two floors to the house in addition to the first floor. Not to mention the basement, which technically meant the house was a four storey house and— what the ever loving fuck are you thinking, Jefferson. Head in the game, man! He cut off his own racing mind; a sure sign of stress.

He made the first landing and began methodically making his way around, room by room, opening each one and checking inside, not just for the girl and her mother, but also for an alternative way out, should his chosen route become inaccessible. He couldn’t explain why, but there was a large part of him that had a really bad feeling around the way the day was going.

Crossing a room, he found a window that looked out onto a low balcony, and looking up he saw what looked like similar from above. It would do in a pinch, but it was risky. One slip and he’d be looking at a shattered ankle; broken leg… he decided he just better make sure that he could get out by the method of his first choice.

“Oy! Jared,” Jones’ voice sounded from behind him, irritated. “I told you upstairs.”

“This is upstairs,” Jefferson snarked back. “And you weren’t actually that specific, you—” Movement in the corner of his eye made him forget what he had been saying. Someone’s sights? Careless, but then, no… he hadn’t had a message yet. Jones evidently picked up on it and came from the doorway to stand beside him.

“What do you see?” Jones asked.

Jefferson shook his head, about to say nothing - perhaps it had been his imagination after all - when a patch of shadow moved close by the rear wall of the yard, unnatural, not like the clouds passing across the moon. His heart began to pound in his chest. They were coming.

“Bloody hell!” Jones snarled urgently, evidently having come to a similar conclusion. “The law!” He grabbed Jefferson’s arm and practically swung him away from the window and gave him a push towards the door. “Go. Upstairs… warn the others.”

“What about you?” Jefferson asked as Jones turned back to peer into the darkness of the garden.

Jones shook his head. “I’ll go downstairs. We’ll be ready for them,” he said. “What are you waiting for? Go!”

Jefferson made it look as though he was rushing to follow the man’s instructions, once outside the door he slipped to his right, the opposite side from the stairs, and flattened himself against the wall to wait for Jones to come out. He looked around quickly to make sure there was no one else on the landing, relieved to still be alone on the second floor, and he wondered what the hell was keeping everyone either downstairs or up on the top floor, though not for long as he heard Jones’ heavy tread approaching the door.

Like comedy, timing was everything. If he moved too soon, he would alert Jones to his presence. Too late and the man would be out of reach. He hated moments like that; held his breath and pulled the gun he carried out of its holster and waited. One… Two…

Things rarely went according to plan. Jones must have sensed him, because just as he would have moved, stepped behind the man and coshed him over the head with the grip of his gun, Jones turned his head.

“Jared, what the—”

Jefferson tried anyway, lunging for the other man, only to meet Jones’ up-raised forearm and with an audible crunch, instead of the back of is head, and almost as if on instinct, Jones turned and swung the sharp hook he had in place of his missing hand toward Jefferson’s head.

Not fast enough thought, and Jefferson ducked under the weapon, at the same time turning to drive the point of Jones’ hook into the wooden door frame as he pushed the mans wrist against the wood. He tried to follow quickly, to bring his gun up again and wrap Jones into unconsciousness as he’d intended before while he was still stuck with his back to him, but Jones anticipated him again, and used the fact of his hook being trapped to twist his wrist, and pull his arm free of the latch that held the hook in place.

Jefferson ran at the man, wrapped his arms around Jones’ waist and drove his shoulder into the soft spot above his hip, attempting to hook the weight-bearing leg with one of his own, but Jones read him again, and let himself fall backward, heaving with both arms and legs, until Jefferson felt himself flying through the air, mercifully along the landing. He landed heavily, and his gun went skittering along the polished wooden floor.

He didn’t have time to worry about it; didn’t want Jones to get a chance to to reattach his hook, or worse, pull his own gun, which was precisely what Jones was attempting to do as he clambered to his feet, turning toward him gun in hand, so before Jones could aim the weapon, he kicked out blindly, by luck connecting with the man’s shoulder before he could fully straighten up. He knocked him off balance again to slip back down to the floor on hands and feet and the insecurely held weapon went flying. Jefferson didn’t wait to see any other effects of his timely intervention, he just pulled himself to his feet at the same time as Jones, Still winded from the heavy landing and fighting for a decent breath was scrabbling at the floor in an attempt to get to his feet.

Jones was really pissing him off, and was still getting up again, and Jefferson scrambled over, uttering a breathless, “Let me give you a hand there… mate,” mocking an expression of which Jones was overly fond, and speared his fingers into the man’s hair at the crown of his head, and twisting, tugging him upward, while at the same time grabbing a hold of his sleeve. Then before Jones could properly realize his intent, or fully regain his balance, Jefferson launched him toward the banister rail, without letting go, bringing Jones’ head down hard against the solid oak wood at the top, not once, but twice, before tossing him backwards, to land in a crumpled heap beside the wall.

It hadn’t been the quiet disposal he’d intended, and he was certain their scramble would have attracted some attention. He didn’t wait to find out, simply moved as fast as he could, while still trying to catch his breath, toward the staircase leading to the upper floor.

He took the stairs two at a time, and half way up, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He snatched it out, and glanced at the screen, suddenly bursting into entirely humorless, and slightly hysterical laughter. The notification read: “We are Breaching NOW!”

#rumbelle #angst #hurt/comfort #dubious consent #implied noncon #implied torture #eventual smut #ust #first time #drama

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