#i thought i was well and truly done with that last edit but this struck me like a bolt of lightning | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sc0tters · 5 months

Text

It Ain’t Easy | Ethan Edwards

summary: love would be a whole lot easier if your brothers were all on board with your boyfriend.

request: yes/no

warnings: swearing, 4:00am slightly edited writing 😭

word count: 1.63k

authors note: this is the official last piece before we start working on the December works. This is less than perfect because I tried to get this done beforehand, so let’s all play nice.

When Luke left Michigan he never thought that you’d end up dating one of his friends.

Sure you were twins and in the same friend group but the idea of you and one of his previous teammates was truly not something Luke even contemplated. Had he asked his ex housemates to keep an eye on you? Yes. Did he think that it would end up biting him in the ass as you rocked up to the lake house for the summer before your senior year with a boyfriend? Never in a million years, but somehow he was still sat there watching you cuddle Ethan on the couch.

You thought you struck the lottery dating a guy that your brothers already approved of. Ethan treated you well and after months of growing closer as you leaned on the older boy whenever you missed your brother it was no surprise when he finally made a move on you.

It was a warm February evening as Ethan walked you back to your dorm “you know you don’t have to do this every time we leave.” Without fail each time you came home from these parties Ethan was by your side keeping you company “someone has to make sure you get back in one piece.” The hockey player teased as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

You looked up at him with a smile “well thank you for that.” You squeezed his hand as your heels clicked against the concrete path “I’m gonna have to find someone new to walk me home when you get a girl.” You joked letting out a giggle that was like music to Ethan’s ears as you both stopped seeing your dormitory appear in front of you.

Ethan scrunched his face in disgust at those words “not interested in those girls.” He explained shaking his head “didn’t know I’d be fighting men for you.” Amusement was evident on your voice as you crossed your arms.

It made Ethan click his tongue as a laugh left his lips “y/n I’m looking at the damn girl I want.” His words made you stop with wide eyes as your jaw went slack “you better not be fucking with me E.” you warned as the boy reached out to grab your hands with a smile lingering on his face.

Before either of your could wait for wind to push you two together you instead let fate do it “you gonna let me kiss you?” The hockey player asked as he smiled “fuck yeah.” You swore pushing yourself onto your tippy toes so you could kiss him.

Over the next few months the relationship blossomed into the thing that became both of your missing pieces to the puzzle that was your lives. As you kept it to yourselves only letting images hinting to who your boyfriend could have been appear as they got sandwiched into your monthly dumps.

Quinn accepted that you’d eventually tell him who the boy was but what he didn’t think was that Jack and Luke would spend the days leading to the family trip to the lake house with a board guessing who your boyfriend could be.

The umich boys had been sworn to secrecy as you didn’t want to just tell Luke over the phone. Yet as you watched your brothers guide Ethan to the boat you wondered if maybe you should have told the boys sooner “they will play nice I’m sure of it.” Ellen could see the look of worry on her daughters face who could do nothing more than send her daughter a hopeful look that your mom was right.

But of course the Hughes brothers were fulfilling their brotherly duties as they stared down Ethan quickly bombarding him with questions about his intentions. Everything from if he saw himself being in a relationship for the long term with you to what he would do if you got pregnant. Any question they all seemed to not care that it was maybe a bit too far to be asking because as messed up as it seemed in essence they wanted to know if Ethan loved you enough to stay when they got scary.

Luke barely said a few words to his friend as he was still upset that Ethan could have gone behind his back to get with you. So as you helped Ellen start dinner Ethan was actually figuring out the quickest way to get off of the boat “you’re back!” The relieve in your voice was evident as you wiped your hands on the kitchen towel and sped to the living room “baby?” You added furrowing your eyebrows as you saw Ethan with a frown on his face “we need to talk.” His hand wrapped into yours as he pulled you to the staircase.

You couldn’t help it as you turned around to send your brothers a glare who could do nothing more than smile “please tell me you boys didn’t do what I think you did.” Ellen sighed as she crossed her arms behind them. Ethan made your heart break as he began pulling his clothes back into his suitcase “could you just talk to me!” You complained making him frown as he stopped “your brothers hate me so it’s for the best if I go.” His words made you feel sick as you furrowed your brows.

Part of you wanted to grow defensive and irritated as the other part of you just hoped to wake up from whatever this was “I know they’re tough but you’re really going to leave because they asked you a couple of questions?” You knew what your brothers were like but you thought Ethan of all people would have survived it.

Your irritation quickly became his too “it wasn’t just a couple fucking questions.” Ethan spat shaking his head “look I love you but I’m not gonna sit here and have my every move questioned for the next two weeks.” Tears began to form in your waterline “maybe we should take a break.” His fingers brushed through his hair as he sighed.

It felt like your world was coming to an end as it dropped off of a ledge “god I thought you were gonna be good.” You didn’t mean to be as harsh as you were but seeing him so ready to leave was a punch to your gut “they’re just protective it’ll blow over!” Your fists clenched “look they are important to you and I think you need to spend time with them.” Ethan cupped your cheeks as he leaned forward to kiss your head.

Maybe you didn’t agree with his logic but you knew that it was only going to end in an argument and for that you kept your mouth shut “I’ll see you out then.” Ethan had to admit that he was partly hurt that you weren’t putting up a fight for him but if only he knew you were holding all of this back because you didn’t want to make this harder.

And you had a sneaky suspicion that your brothers were stood at the door.

As you watched the car roll down the drive you couldn’t help it as you turned to glare at the boys “could you not let me be happy?” You frowned as you looked at your brothers who sat on the couch.

Quinn was the first to shake his head “we are just making sure you’re safe.” He pointed out as Jack nodded “we know hockey players and we know you.” That comment enraged you as you scoffed crossing your arms “you boys don’t know shit!” You hated saying it but you had fallen away from your brothers as they all became NHL players.

You would never admit it but you felt left behind as their lives “last season you all managed to forget my birthday when I fucking share one with you!” You pointed at Luke making him slide further into his seat on the couch.

The boys weren’t proud of the fact that it took a call from Ellen to make them remember that it was the youngest Hughes kids birthday too “Ethan reminds me how to smile and how to be happy.” Tears streamed down your face as the boys finally realised how they had screwed up “y/n.” Quinn was the first to keep up wanting to apologise “just stay out of my way for the rest of summer please.” You were the one sibling who never got mad, Jack broke your toys more times than you could count as a kid but you never lashed out. Luke cut your hair once and all you did was laugh.

But here you were now in tears as you could barley look at your brothers as you pushed up the stairs to your room. Quinn looked down to his younger brothers “we fucked up.” He mumbled falling back into the couch “like big time.” He frowned thinking about how upset you had gotten.

It was clear that all of the boys hadn’t noticed how much they actually pushed away from their sister. With Luke being at school with you they didn’t need to make the effort, so when he went the gap in your life truly begun to show. You were always going to be supportive of them but it felt like you were losing your boys.

Jack led the trio to the door “where are you going?” Ellen furrowed her brows as she watched the boys slip on their shoes “someone has to go get y/n’s boy back for her.” Luke sighed agreeing with his brothers that they all took things too far with Ethan “Quinn is upstairs apologising to y/n.” He added motioning to the steps.

The Hughes boys had a plan.

#Ethan edwards imagines #Ethan edwards oneshots #ambers angst week #imagines #oneshots #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #umich oneshot #umich imagines #amber writes fics

291 notes · View notes

rphelperblog · 2 years

Text

Clockwork Prince Book Quote Rp Meme

book two in the TID series by Cassandra Clare- feel free to edit or change pronouns for rp purposes- part one

“It was books that made me feel that perhaps I was not completely alone. They could be honest with me, and I with them.”

“Our souls are knit. We are one person,”

“You may choose your friends, but not your unlikely saviors,”

“If no one cares for you at all, do you even really exist?”

“We live and breathe words.”

“God knows we’re all drawn to what’s beautiful and broken.”

“Would you like a thesaurus? You seem to be running out of words.”

“I can offer you my life, but it is a short life; I can offer you my heart, though I have no idea how many more beats it shall sustain”

“Is it because I’m better-looking than you?”

“You can’t have wasted a life you’ve barely lived.”

“I could not tell you if I loved you the first moment I saw you, or if it was the second or third or fourth. But I remember the first moment I looked at you walking toward me and realized that somehow the rest of the world seemed to vanish when I was with you.”

“I am not the one of us who has no heart.”

“I shall charm him with such force that when I am done, he will be left lying limply on the ground, trying to remember his own name.”

“You had to know a person well to make them laugh like that.”

“What he needs now is to love and have that love returned.”

“One finds nobility in the oddest places.”

“The girl behind the scrawled letters. I loved you from the moment I read them. I love you still.”

“When two souls are as one, they stay together on the Wheel. I was born into this world to love you, and I will love you in the next life, and the one after that."

“He’s very broken, like a lovely vase that someone has smashed. Only luck and skill can put it back together the way it was before.”

“Is this a game? We just blurt out whatever word comes next to mind? In that case mine is ‘genuphobia’. It means an unreasonable fear of knees.”

“What’s the word for a perfectly reasonable fear of annoying idiots?”

“They’re really quite good-looking, not hideous at all.”“I spoke of the pitch-black inner depths of their souls.”

“It's always better to live the truth than to live a lie.”

"I've never swum naked in the Thames before, but I know I wouldn't like it."

“It means ‘I wish to get so drunk I no longer remember my own name,’ Quite useful.”

“You serve a greater cause. Your life is not yours to throw away”

“Did you just kiss me?"

“They say time heals all wounds, but that presumes the source of the grief is finite”

"I had come to think i would never love anyone, but I love her.”

"I haven't broken his heart at all.”

“Do you care more about the plan being enacted or about getting credit for it?”

“ he is nothing but goodness. That he struck you last night only shows how capable you are of driving even saints to madness.”

"Being lost, that is. I had always thought one could not truly be lost if one knew one's own heart. But I fear I may be lost without knowing yours.”

“She had loved him for such a long time, she thought. How was it that she did now know him at all?”

“Dear God, woman, are there any questions you don't want to know the answer to?”

I love you.And I don't want to lose you.”

“You cannot buy or drug or dream your way out of pain.”

“In honor of my birthplace, I’ve the dragon of Wales tattooed on my—”

"There is only one girl I care to make swoon,"

You are the first dream, the only dream I ever was unable to stop myself from dreaming. You are the first dream of my soul, and from that dream I hope will come all other dreams, a lifetime’s worth.”

And I mean that literally, of course, but also figuratively.”

"Perhaps we do need a chaperon.”

“You promise me that you love him. Enough to marry him and make him happy.”

"He died screaming."

“I thought... that we could at least talk about books.”

"I must be more amusing than I thought. Which would make me very amusing indeed.”

“Change is not always accomplished peacefully, but that does not make it disadventageous.”

don't tell him what I just told you. Don't tell him that I love you.”

“I love you, and I have loved you, almost since the moment I met you.”

you need not be so careful. I will not break.”

"every moment of every hour of every day that I have been with you since the day I met you. but you know that. You must know. Don't you?”

"Won't you miss it here? This place has been your home."

“Women do not think with logic and discretion but with emotions of the heart”

“When I think of you, and you are not there, I see you in my mind's eye always with a book in your hand.”

"Don't worry about that right now, my love."

“Was this what it meant to love someone? That any burden was a burden shared, that they could give you comfort with a word or a touch?”

“I had come to think I would never love anyone, but I love her.”

“When two people are at one in their inmost hearts, they shatter even the strength of iron or bronze.”

“for love is as strong as death.”

“But am I clever and right or clever and wrong?”

“Beauty is harsh.”

"All who love you will die. Their love will be their destruction. It may take moments, it may take years, but any who look upon you with love will die of it, unless you remove yourself from them forever. And I shall begin it with her."

“I don't know how I could sleep at night, not knowing I was surrounded by a thousand other sleeping, dreaming souls.”

“If I was harsh with you, it was because I cannot bear to see you treat yourself as if you are worth nothing. Whatever part you might act to the contrary, I see you as you really are, my blood brother. Not just better than you pretend to be, but better than most people could hope to be.”

10 notes · View notes

aethelflaedladyofmercia · 3 years

Text

Fever Dream

(Written for @sicktember prompt #1 - Fever! I finished it in time for the first but didn't have the energy to edit.)

Angels didn’t get sick, precisely

They didn’t have bodies that were, strictly speaking, physical, and therefore couldn’t harbor any of the illnesses that plagued mankind and other earthly creatures.

An angel could, however, burn through enough of his own grace that his corporation began to malfunction.

He would then, as it were, fall ill.

This happened to Aziraphale far more often than to other angels.

A weak constitution was the general explanation; too much time mucking about on the strange old planet, not enough time bathing in the glorious healing light of the celestial sphere.

When he was down on Earth, he was always prying, poking, trying new things, many of which had never been approved, could have any manner of ill effects. He knew he should show some proper restraint, withdraw a bit more from the world, but he couldn’t help himself.

And when he did return to huddle miserably in a recovery ward, waiting for the chills to pass and his temperature to stabilize, Gabriel would always visit, dropping broad hints about the pressures of fieldwork and the under appreciated glory of a solid administrative career. Offering all kinds of advice as to what, exactly, a proper angel would cut out of his life if he wished to better focus on his ordained duties.

And so, when the symptoms next came upon him—muscle aches, irritability, sweat and chills until he didn’t know if he was hot or cold—Aziraphale decided to wait it out on Earth. It would only take a few days to recover and, anyway, he had business to attend to. Important business that could not wait.

“Angel, are you sure you’re alright?” Crowley demanded, a glint of gold just visible between black lenses and furrowed brow.

“Yes, I’m perf—” he turned his head to cough lightly, but an odd spasm came over his throat, transforming it into something deep and hacking that left his ribs aching and his brow dripping with sweat. “…tickety-boo,” he muttered, turning back to his mug.

“Keep it down,” hissed the demon, glancing around the common room of the inn. Perhaps one or two people had glanced over, but nothing out of the ordinary. “People will think you have the plague.” The last two words he barely mouthed.

“My dear fellow, do be serious. I have hardly any symptoms of the plague.” Only the last part sounded more like sybtobs otha blayyyg.

He cleared his throat and tried to sniff, which started a complicated chain reaction that ended with a mouthful of what he hoped was spit.

As Aziraphale’s eyes went wide with alarm, Crowley quickly pulled out a deep red handkerchief, which the angel gratefully spat into. Unsure what to do next, Aziraphale folded it over and offered it back, but Crowley leaned away, face contorted in horror.

“Oh, ah… thank you, then?” He took a quick glance inside and immediately wished he hadn’t, grimacing at the color of what his body had produced.

“Just… just eat your soup,” Crowley muttered, waving a hand at the bowl he’d been toying with until it was hardly above room temperature.

Aziraphale had ordered it thinking a bit of warmth would be lovely, as he’d been shivering fit for midwinter morning. But after one mouthful, he’d found himself sweating, tugging at his collar to relieve some of the heat. Now he could feel the shivers coming on again, but he couldn’t warm it back up. Until the illness passed, any miracles would just make it worse.

“Right,” Crowley said as Aziraphale poked at something that might have been a parsnip. “I’m going to be out of town for the next few weeks. Temptations all up and down the continent. Might take the rest of the season. Unless…” Using that lilting voice that suggested a coin flip might be imminent.

“Mmmh.” Aziraphale looked mournfully into his beer, finally hazarding another sip. The taste of hops struck him at the back of the throat and he quickly expelled the rest back into the mug. “Sorry, m’dear. Not this time. I got…” he waved his hand, waiting for the rest of the words. They didn’t appear to be forthcoming. “Things,” he finally said. “In the city. Until at least…” He rubbed his forehead, but it was hard to think when it was so cold. He pulled his heavy coat back on, bundling up.

“Oh, well. Things. Obviously can’t take you away from things.” Aziraphale nodded miserably, trying to focus on his bowl. “Angel, look,” and as Crowley leaned close, there was something new in his voice, something that sounded rather like concern. “You sure you’re alright? I mean, there’s nothing… nobody…”

Aziraphale blinked, his eyes feeling… sticky. What was Crowley getting at? He should really be more direct, clever Serpent, it was hard enough to think in all this heat. He struggled out of his coat, dabbing uselessly at the sweat on his forehead.

“Oh for Satan’s—are you cursed?” He hissed the last word even softer than he’d said plague.

“No,” the angel said, resting his head on his hand until his neck recovered enough strength to hold it up again. “M’not. S’just… things!”

In his attempt to gesture with both hands, Aziraphale forgot one was already occupied and very nearly wound up face-first in the soup.

“Azir—!” Crowley rounded the table in an instant, tugging him upright again. “What has come over you?”

“S’rry. People staring? S’not… not… proper.”

“Angel, you’re—you’re burning up!”

“Not. S’cold.” Then an icy hand touched his forehead and cheek, and Aziraphale groaned, trying to pull away.

“What the Heaven is going on?”

“Toldya. Things. Illness. From… from…” he tried to gesture with one arm, but it weighed too much to lift. “Being a… bad angel…”

A heavy sigh. “C’mere, you.” Crowley hauled him to his feet.

Aziraphale was pleased to find he could stand, just that his spinning head and aching limbs made it unpleasant. He couldn’t remember where he was supposed to go, but there was something solid nearby to lean on and a hand on his waist, guiding him forward.

It wasn’t until they reached the stairs that he realized something wasn’t right. “Crowley! This is—we—we can’t—where—what are you—”

“I’ve got a room upstairs.”

Aziraphale squinted dimly towards the upper floor. “Yes…?”

“Yes. And you, Angel, are in need of a bed.”

But.

But it was improper! Scandalous, even, talking of rooms, and beds, or rooms andbeds, or any combination thereof, particularly in the singular form. What if someone saw? An angel and a demon, bad enough, but two allegedly respectable gentlemen?

Or, wait, was one of them currently presenting as a woman? Likely not Aziraphale, though he sometimes lost track, but Crowley, well, that could also be hard to tell, but he seemed to have a good amount of jewelry and no facial hair, so there was a chance.

Still, male or female, angel or human, there would be rumor, gossip, talk about the town! It would get back to Heaven! This was worse than being thought weak and improper, Gabriel would think him some sort of reprobate!

Crowley paused, one hand on a door. “This is me. Um. I’ll go back down if it makes you feel better.”

What? And have all the rumor with none of the satisfaction? The shame of spending a night in a demon’s bed without the pleasures—oh, he knew what Crowley got up to. One of the Seven Sins that was, and Aziraphale would not be tempted into joining. No, not he!

“Right. Nh. Going to help you out of some of these layers, then I’ll go.”

Go? Go?After Aziraphale had come all this way, come so very close? No, he’d spent centuries imagining how it would be, and he’d never be truly satisfied until he had a reality to compare it to. Aziraphale very much wanted to know what Crowley looked like while he slept.

Yes, Crowley, Sloth is one of the Seven Sins, a demon should know these things.

And while Aziraphale had the general idea clear enough, he still had questions. Did Crowley snore, or did he breathe softly? He certainly would sleep on his side, curled up, but how heavy would his head be, pillowed on Aziraphale’s chest? If they talked, would his words become slurred as he drifted off, or would he listen quietly while Aziraphale spoke, running his fingers through bright red hair?

Come to that, how did his hair feel, or his cheek, or his lips? Aziraphale hadn’t thought much about lips, generally, but now that Crowley was always hiding his eyes, well, they had become the focus of his face, and that presented fascinating possibilities, ones that Gabriel certainly wouldn’t approve of, but he’d always been too curious for his own good. And really, what was a harmless little experiment between—

Oh, good Lord, was Aziraphale talking out loud?

He clapped his hand over his mouth, eyes wide with horror.

But Crowley chuckled, resting a hand on his shoulder; in only his undershirt, he could feel it so clearly—ice cold, but not unpleasantly so. “Your secrets are safe, Angel. Lay down.”

Too embarrassed to object, Aziraphale crawled into the bed and let Crowley pull a blanket over him. “Keep that on, yeah?”

“S’hot,” the angel whined. His voice sounded very odd, slurred, weak. Perhaps that meant Crowley hadn’t understood his rambling before.

“I know. Just try.” Something cool and damp wiped his face and Aziraphale sighed with relief. “Has this happened before?”

“Mmmh. Over an’over an’over.” In Heaven, they would assign him a recovery room, to sit alone and reflect on what he’d done to earn himself the illness, on what he could do to better serve in the future. Gabriel always had good suggestions.

The being alone. That was the worst part. Hated that.

Crowley was talking. Something would be right there, beside the bed. That was probably important, but the angel was already asleep.

In Aziraphale’s dream, Gabriel told him over and over that he’d failed again, that this was his own fault, that he was a terrible angel who didn’t deserve… something.

Possibly anything.Again and again, the Archangel took everything he valued—his books, his sweets, his day at the theater, the beauty of the sunrise, the way humans smiled at each other after many days apart, and something else, something far more important, but the name was forbidden—

Again, something cool pressed to his forehead, his chest. Fingers raked through his hair, helping the sweat to evaporate. “See?” A voice murmured. “Better already.” But everything was getting grey and distant again.

Now Aziraphale was in a room, an enormous room, empty but somehow still cluttered. All the things he loved were here, hidden, and Gabriel ordered him to find them all or they’d be destroyed. He searched frantically, among endless piles of brown packages, and found most of them—books and smiles and sunrises—mixed in with kettles, mittens and (for some reason) cat whiskers. But the last thing, the final thing, the important thing was still missing, and the room grew hotter and hotter—

“Try this now.” Something supported Aziraphale’s back as he sat up, leaning against… a thing… a thing that meant warmth and safety. A mug pressed to his lips. He wasn’t sure what he drank, but it felt good. “Now let’s get you settled again.”

He didn’t go down easily, though, reaching and writhing, somehow grasping the safe thing, pulling it close. If he let it get away, Gabriel would destroy it.

“I see. Alright. You stay there.” Fingers through his hair again, more resting lightly on his shoulder. “I got you. Nothing’s going to—”

Reality tumbled away and he was falling, possibly Falling, the voices of Gabriel and Michael and Uriel all around him, insulting him, taunting him, asking him why he hadn’t filed form HX-3 in triplicate. He clung desperately to the thing he needed as the temperature rose, more voices joining in, every voice. The Hellfire licked at him, even as he trembled and shook uncontrollably. This was the end, he would die here, he’d never said—

“Crowley!” He called, desperate. “Crowley don’t—don’t leave me!”

The thing he held shifted, and now there were arms wrapped around him, protecting him. “There we are. Not going to leave.”

It was too hot to bear, but still he burrowed closer. “Crowley, please. I can’t—I—I need you!”

“Not going anywhere, Angel. Not ever.”

“Crowley!” The Hellfire burst within him, a flash of heat up and down his body, his limbs, his soul—

And then he was… exhausted.

The shaking faded, the heat and cold gone, though he still found himself covered in sweat. Nothing remained but a strange sense of calm.

Still clinging to his lifeline, Aziraphale drifted off into a proper restful sleep.

He opened his eyes to find the late evening sun slanting through an open window. The blanket was largely twisted around his legs and the bed below him was oddly hard and lumpy, even if it was nice—

“You’re looking better.”

Aziraphale scrambled up in horror to find that the thing he’d been laying on—clinging to for dear life—was six feet of rumpled, uncomfortable-looking demon. A demon he vaguely recalled saying some very revealing things to…

“Oh, good Lord.” Aziraphale’s face burned again, but not from fever. He covered, his eyes turning away. “Crowley—you—you—how—”

“Gah! M’sorry!” He heard Crowley push himself upright, sliding away. “I—I—I shouldn’t have—didn’t mean—”

No of course not. It wasn’t as though Crowley shared his strange desires, his secret obsessions, his awful curiosity. Crowley was a—a perfectly normal demon who would have no interest in prolonged contact, particularly with a most clingy, damaged angel…

“What must you think of me?” he moaned.

“Stupid, stupid demon,” Crowley grumbled. “I saw you panicking but I didn’t know—shouldn’t have assumed—”

“What is wrong with me?”

“Crossed a line, and—and now look—”

“I’m a terrible, foolish, needy…”

“Didn’t want to take advantage—I’m sorry!”

“I’m sorry! Wait…” That wasn’t right. Aziraphale cautiously lowered his hands to see Crowley sitting frozen with the glasses halfway to his face. “You’re sorry?”

“Mnh. Yeah. Cuz… cuz I’m the one who…” his eyes dropped. “You seemed upset. Scared. I just… I made it worse, didn’t I? Shoulda known you wouldn’t want…”

“But…” Aziraphale swallowed, trying to recall anything clearly. “I… I seem to remember… propositioning you. Repeatedly.”

Crowley’s face turned red, but he smiled. Not his confident swaggering smirk, but something awkward and genuine that Aziraphale hadn’t seen since Eden. “Not… repeatedly. N’I’d hardly call it… besides it was… you know. But!” His fingers twisted on the metal frames of his glasses. “But, look—I don’t—you aren’t responsible for—for the things you say when you’re sick, ‘specially things you don’t mean—and I—s’my responsibility not to—” He ducked his head even further. “Just wanted to help. Shouldn’t have assumed… that you meant… what I wanted…”

“What…” Aziraphale reached out but couldn’t quite touch him. “What you want?”

“Um.” Golden eyes flicked up. “You’re… not the only one who wondered about… the sleeping stuff. Who doesn’t like to be… alone.” He cleared his throat. “Or, at least, I thought—”

“I believe I told you I needed you.” His hand hovered over Crowley’s shoulder. “I meant that. Precisely the way you took it. I—I meant most of it.”

Crowley’s eyes blinked, very slowly.

And the next moment, they were swept into each other’s arms, Aziraphale once again clinging to his friend like a lifeline. “I don’t think you’re stupid,” he managed.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale pressed closer. “Thank you for staying.”

When they broke apart, Crowley was as bright red as Aziraphale had felt at the height of his fever, glasses back in place, staring fixedly at his own legs. “So. Mmmmh. Now what?”

Aziraphale considered that question more carefully than he’d ever considered anything.

“I think… I’m recovering…”

“S’good.” Crowley shifted as if to stand.

“…but still very tired. I should probably rest another night?”

“Yeah. Um. Yeah. Do you—I can go?”

“Do you have somewhere to be?” His heart started to fall, until Crowley shrugged.

“I do, but… not urgently.”

“If you have the time there’s… there’s something I’m curious about.”

“Well. Big fan of knowledge, me.”

Aziraphale carefully lay down again, keeping his arms wide. A moment later, Crowley took a deep breath, set aside his glasses and joined him.

It turned out that Crowley’s head on his chest was the perfect weight. That he did indeed curl up, though in the most convoluted ways. That in his sleep, Crowley’s breaths were gentle and soft, much like his hair, and he tried very much to keep talking on the edge of consciousness even when he didn’t have much to say.

As for the kissing, well—certain observations did not need to be made public.

(AO3 link later today...)

#good omens #good omens fanfic #sicktember #ineffable husbands #hurt comfort #sick aziraphale #cuddles #fever #protective crowley #soft crowley #there was only one bed #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale and crowley #my writing #prompt challenge

118 notes · View notes

cotccotc · 3 years

Text

❄️ icicles ┆ yjn

genre/s: jeongin x gn reader, fluff, best friends/idiot crushes au (lol), boarding school au

wc: 2.3k

warning/s: swearing, reader is carried on jeongin’s back, one mention of death (as a joke, not within the context of the plot)

a/n: as always, i hope y’all like this !! winter’s on it’s way out where i live, but i loved the premise of this too much to discard the idea :)) also if it isn’t well edited, well...... Oops :D

“i bet you can’t reach it,” he whispers. he points to the icicle hovering above you, hanging down from the awning outside of the library. it’s on the thicker side, connected to a few others. and though it’s long, he’s correct in assuming it’s too high up for you to reach without jumping up to it. and probably while jumping as well. but you can’t let him off so easily.

“how much?” you ask, voice hushed as well.

“how much what?”

“how much are you gonna bet?”

he chuckles.

it’s nearing midnight. you’re not supposed to be out this late, let alone with a friend. and he isn’t just any friend, either. but he wouldn’t know that. he’s too oblivious. always has been. it’s been four years and he still hasn’t an inkling of how you truly feel about him, nor does he presumably feel the same way.

well… actually...

eh. that can wait. on with the scene.

“if you can do it,” he says, a cocky smile on his face. “i’ll use my card to buy all of your meals tomorrow.” he pauses. “deal?”

you cross your arms. “hm…”

“and…” he looks around for inspiration. then, finally, he adds, “and i’ll give you a piggyback ride back to your dorm.”

there’s a lot at stake. the crispness of the air accentuates the goosebumps forming on your skin at the prospect of being carried by him once again. piggyback rides are one of your favorite activities with jeongin, as well as your preferred mode of general transportation. maybe it’s because you’re (rightfully) lazy and nights like these tend to take a toll on your tired feet. maybe it’s because he only rarely allows it and would never admit he loves it as much as you do. or maybe it’s because the closeness makes you giddy, the contact makes you warm, and the prospect of taunting him is far too thrilling to pass up...

but that icicle is just so goddamn high.

“deal,” you say, stifling your excitement. you stretch your hand out for him to shake, and he obliges. as you ready yourself for the jump of a lifetime, he surveys the area for signs of authority. it’s not the first time you’ve snuck out together like this. you’ve only ever gotten caught once. sophomore year. they let you both off with a warning… but it’s clear to see how effective the warning was.

with a slight running start, you make your first attempt. not even close. i personally applaud you for trying, but honestly, it was a little hard to watch. yet, you won’t give up just yet. “three tries?” you suggest to him as he covers his face with his gloved hand to muffle the sound of his laughter.

in between bouts of near-silent laughter, he mimics you. he mockingly saunters over to the icicle, just barely leaping into the air and flapping his hand. as he leans over to laugh some more, clutching onto his abdomen through his puffer coat, you can’t help but giggle as well. it was a pretty pitiable try.

“fine,” he sighs, face still scrunched up in amusement. it’s actually quite cute. despite the seering embarrassment coursing through you, you’re glad to have been able to put that smile on his face. even in the dull, yellow-tinted lighting in the courtyard, you can make out the prominent dimples in his cheeks. after some more breathless chuckles, he continues, “try again.”

and so, you do. it’s a better one this time. you get closer to hitting the tip of the icicle than you thought you could. maybe it’s the sight of jeongin laughing like he hadn’t laughed all day. maybe it’s the slight thrill that accompanies sneaking out so late. whatever it is, it propelled you further into the air. but still, nothing.

“you have no technique,” he remarks, still speaking in whisper.

you scoff. “you try, then.”

“fine! step aside.” he takes a few steps toward you, arrogantly gesturing for you to move over so he can get into position. you concede, backing up. just as he’d done, you scan your surroundings just in case. however, right as you turn your head to the side, a bright light shoots out from the distance. your eyes widen and heartbeat quickens. it’s a pointed light; one much whiter and brighter than that of the lampposts commonly found in the courtyard. a flashlight. and it’s getting closer.

just as he’s about to take to the air, you grab the arm of his coat and give it a tug. he follows your gaze to find the flashlight as well. he jolts, letting out a small gasp.

“hey!” a voice calls out. whoever it is that’s holding the flashlight knows you’ve broken the rules.

“quick,” he says, voice louder than before. he takes your hand in his. “let’s go.” pulling you along with him, he runs down the cobblestone path toward the dorms. eventually, your speed matches his and you’re able to catch up to him, running beside him and holding his hand all the while. the feeling is electrifying. the wintry breeze sweeping through the night, the feeling of his gloved hand wrapped tightly around yours, and the rush of adrenaline coursing through you as you run are all enough to make your heart race. eventually, you lose sight of the flashlight behind you. you’ll probably get called down to the headmaster’s office tomorrow morning. maybe they didn’t see who you are. maybe they’ll let it slide. still, maybe you’ll get in trouble… but you don’t care. you will tomorrow, but not right now.

the flashlight has disappeared. the two of you slow down, relieved to have outrun your opposition. as you come to a full stop, he lets go of your hand to place both of his on his knees, panting. you put your hands on your hips to do the same. after a beat, you make eye contact. and immediately afterward, the both of you are sent into a fit of laughter.

“that was close,” he sighs, looking up at you in awe of what’d just occurred.

while chuckling, you reply, “yeah.”

a moment passes. your laughter fades back into shallow breathing as you take a look around, realizing you’re still not even close to the dorms. a chill runs through you. you didn’t even realize you’d broken a sweat until a gust of air drifts through your coat sleeve. you visibly shiver, prompting jeongin to straighten his stance.

“here,” he says, unwrapping the scarf around his neck. he then drapes it around you, wrapping the cotton fabric around yours. you watch his hands as they adjust the scarf. you’d given him the navy blue gloves as a christmas present last year. they’re now a staple in his winter ensemble. you look up at him. he’s been looking at you.

“thanks.”

“no problem,” he replies with a smile. the dim light could never drown out the sparkle that permanently resides in his eyes, nor diminish the charm of his dimples. as he looks at you, you suddenly feel much warmer than before.

he turns away from you, slightly bending his knees. “come on,” he whispers.

the piggyback ride.

you giggle. “w-what?”

“get on my back,” he clarifies, grinning even wider. “we don’t have much time!”

“but i didn’t hit the-”

“close enough! come on, before my knees give out.”

“fine! fine.”

you do as he instructed, hopping onto his back and wrapping your arms and legs around him. you let out a bit of a squeal as you leave the ground, sending butterflies through his stomach. he holds tightly onto the backs of your legs to support you. he keeps his knees slightly bent as he begins your trek to the dorms ahead, your chin resting comfortably upon his shoulder. it’s a familiar feeling, yet it never ceases to heighten your senses.

every so often, he lets out an exaggerated groan. as they become more and more dramatic, your smile widens. you begin laughing after his longest one, giving him a playful slap on the cheek. and, of course, his reaction is magnified. you then have to shush him in order to preserve your obscurity.

“has anybody ever told you how annoying you are?” you ask, hushed beside his ear.

“never in my life,” he retorts.

you giggle. “well i’m telling you now.”

he glances at you, smirking. “doesn’t count. you’re not just anybody.” he turns back forward, continuing down the path. you don’t know what to say. warmth flushes through your cheeks, rendering you speechless. he knows he made things awkward, but frankly, he doesn’t care. that same clever smile remains plastered on his blushing face for the rest of the silent walk… the too silent walk.

“we’re almost there. thank god,” he remarks, a hint of playful sarcasm in his tone. what he says is true. your destination is near. but alas, his comment garners no response. seeing as it’s late at night - or, rather, early in the morning - you’ve grown tired. thus, after the heat within your face settled and your head relaxed upon jeongin’s shoulder, you dozed off. “y/n?” he whispers. still nothing. all of a sudden, though, he hears a soft noise. a breath. he understands.

and he thinks it’s absolutely adorable.

he’s honored, in fact. you trust him enough to fall asleep in his arms, regardless of the hell he gives you. there’s a certain sense of understanding that lies beneath the layers of banter you’ve built throughout these past few years that has always given him a sliver of hope. the hope that at times like these, you’d feel safe enough to be yourself, the hope that you’d accompany him on more late-night escapades despite the pressures of authority… and, subsequently, the hope that there’s something more between you two than just friendship. it’s a funny feeling. hope. not yearning, not pining… just a hypothesis supplemented with a hell of a lot of optimism.

as he reaches the entrance to your dorm building, he’s struck with the realization that he can’t enter. for multiple reasons. the first is that he’ll need your keycard. he couldn’t even open the door if he wanted to. consequently, he’ll need to get you down from his back - begrudgingly so. thankfully, however, your resident assistant knows what you two have been up to. yeji approaches the door with a knowing smirk. jeongin innocently smiles back through the glass panel on the door.

yeji opens the door with a short sigh as she sees your condition. “what’d you guys do this time? go for a hike?” she steps outside wearing little to protect her from the weather. a knitted sweater and pajama pants don’t really cut it when it’s below freezing out. “sheesh,” she remarks. “nevermind, i guess.”

jeongin silently shushes the redhead before him. “they saw us,” he mouths out to her. she takes a look around for any signs of trouble, just as the two of you had done earlier. then, she carefully steps around the boy and taps you on the shoulder.

“wake up, sleepyhead,” she whispers, continuing to poke at you.

suddenly, you become aware of the prodding sensation at your back, as well as the faint noise echoing from beside your ear. a voice. you groggily open your eyes, lifting your head up from jeongin’s shoulder. it then occurs to you that you’ve stopped moving as well.

“come on,” yeji continues.

“hi,” you squeak, voice raspy from fatigue, before an involuntary yawn slips out. you straighten your posture, allowing for yeji to take hold of your arm. then, jeongin bends down a bit, giving you the ability to step down from your position as yeji holds onto you for balance. “thanks.”

once you’re down, jeongin stretches his back and arms. “i thought you were dead, you know. until i heard you snoring.”

you chuckle. “oh, please. you should hear yourself in geography class.” he clicks his tongue as you and yeji each let out a quiet giggle.

“it’s getting late, you two,” yeji says, clutching onto her own arms for warmth. “and cold. let’s go.” she starts toward the door, gesturing for you to follow her inside. you almost make it in, too, before you remember something.

“oh! the scarf,” you exclaim. well, whisper-exclaim. you unravel the cloth around your neck, walking back over to the boy to whom it belongs. you do exactly what he’d done for you, draping the garment around him before wrapping it over his shoulder.

he can’t help but blush. you can’t help but notice.

“chop chop!” asserts yeji, beginning to shiver from the cold.

jeongin blinks up at her before returning his gaze to you. “goodnight, y/n,” he murmurs. the look he’s giving you sends a chill through you. a small smile, genuine eyes… your face takes on a familiar warmth once more.

“goodnight, dummy,” you reply, nonchalantly. his grin widens.

yeji crosses her arms. “i will close this door right now.”

“alright!” you respond, turning toward her with your hands raised in defeat. you step inside, striding past her and toward the hall.

“now, get back to your dorm before you get suspended.”

“yes ma’am,” jeongin remarks in return. “g’night.” they exchange a smile and wave before yeji finally closes the door.

jeongin can’t help but grin to himself as he stuffs his hands into his coat pockets and starts his departure to his building. his cheeks are ablaze, which he’d normally suggest is due to the cold. not this time, though. now, he has a pep in his step. he’ll meander home, beaming with a sense of joy. joy, giddiness, excitement… hope. and, when he finally arrives back at his dorm - much to his sleepy roommate’s dismay - he’ll stay up a little while longer thinking about you; the subtle sounds of your breath beside his ear, the way you’d let out a hushed laugh at his remarks, and how absolutely darling you looked wrapped up in his scarf. little does he know you’ll be lying wide awake doing the exact same thing.

tags: @stayndays, @hanniiesuckle17, @leggomylino, @freckledberries, @pixielix, @kisskissbanggang, @mr-jisung-main, @childofthecosmos, @changnuggie, @kpopscape, @skzwriternet, @hyunsins, @sleepylixie, @sunshine-skz, @vera-liscious, @moonlit-lixie, @thatrandomoneinthecorner, @sunshine-skz, ( join my tag list !! )

282 notes · View notes

apixrl · 3 years

Text

SINCERELY, YOURS.

hanta sero x fem!reader

WARNING(S): none

word count: 3.0k

song: sincerely, yours // nohidea

note(s): i just think that he'd be the perfect hubby tbh (EDIT: I'M SO DUMB I POSTED W/O TAGS PFAHAHHA)

Hanta finally managed to force open the door to the log cabin that had long been awaiting your arrival, the wooden structure welcoming the approaching warmth and laughter of the newly wedded couple. The ravenette smirked joyously and let out a triumphant 'hoorah', your laughter only adding to the display of ego on his face.

"And you said I'd drop you," Hanta mocked your earlier words, looking down at you with that very same smirk. If not for your arms wrapped around his neck and entire weight held in his arms, you most likely would have pushed his face away by the cheek. To avoid that shit-eating, joking smirk that rarely left his dumb and lovable face. The face you fell for so undoubtedly swift and heavy.

"I didn't say you would I said you may drop me," Was your response. "It's not every day we walk through so much snow!"

"Hush now, that was nothing to me," Hanta lifted the arm that supported your back, planting his lips on your forehead in a sweet welcoming kiss. Your lips curled in approval, accepting the gesture as Hanta used his foot to close the door behind you both, driving away the cold breeze from outside as warmth replaced it. "Now would you look at this place!"

Heeding Hanta's words, your eyes averted from his addicting gaze to the bonnie log cabin interior set out before you two. From left to right the cabin maintained an earthy theme, consistent in wooden textures excluding that of the supple beige sofas in the centre of the room. They were accompanied with ripening red cushions, as well as a few other pieces of furniture containing the same colour to maintain an advertising aesthetic no doubt. Lengthy beams stretched from one end of the walls to the other, set out in rows. The deepest wall (opposite to the entrance) was made mostly out of glass and onlooking a gorgeous snowy forest scene, small golden lights lit up outside to only add to the aura already presented. Built-up by red bricks and extending up toward the ceiling was a great open fireplace, already sparked alight and sensing a contrasting warmth to the bitter cold outdoors. In the corner of the room were a set of stairs most likely directing themselves off to the bedroom, though you and Hanta were so taken by the bottom floor's interior neither of you even processed there were more rooms to see.

"Wow... this place is gorgeous!" You said through a whisper, face lighting up at the sight. Never had you thought a place could be so beautifully arranged and so beautiful in general, and the two of you had this place to yourselves for an entire two weeks... it made you feel like the luckiest person alive! That you were really, as you'd just tied the knot the love of your life and were starting an entirely new journey with him. From the very moment you'd both uttered 'I do' in front of all your friends and family - the paths you lead became one that you would waltz down together.

"So you like it then?" Hanta asked, ebony eyes trailing away from the open fire and down to your own E/C irises. His smirk slowly transitioned to an endearing grin upon seeing your face of wonder, heart skipping a beat as your gaze met his and your expression mirrored.

"Of course! It's just how I imagined it - even more stunning than the pictures online," Your hand grazed Hanta's gloved one, though the barricade of wool and cotton did nothing to prevent the love and desire sent through the tips of your fingers. The ravenette admired your beauty in that lingering stare shared between you, exhaling a content sigh. You never failed to astound him with your beauty, the way your eyes glowed whenever you looked at him. How your hair fell perfectly into place no matter the circumstance (even on your worst of hair days you somehow managed to make it work). Not to mention your smile and laugh - those specific factors alone making Hanta fall for you over and over and exceeding limits of love and admiration he didn't even think he possessed.

Just before Hanta was to fall into daydream you shook him out his thoughts, the shifting of weight in his arms struck him to shake out of it, realising that you were attempting to shuffle out his arms in order to stand. So he let you down, grip loosening and reluctantly allowing you to step away.

"I'm glad," He quickly uttered, his hand lifting to his head to remove the woolly hat resting there. Then he proceeded to unbutton his winter coat as did you, the pair of you making light work of it due to the excitement of exploring your temporary home.

"So our suitcases are already here?" You asked Hanta, straightening out your knitted turtleneck jumper which was a soft pink shade. Usually something you wouldn't wear, but it was well-suited for the weather and didn't irritate your skin. So you took advantage of the purchase. From your left Hanta hummed softly, turning towards you once he was done hanging his coat on the rack. He too had a turtleneck on, but his donned a collect of abstract patterns and stuck to more neutral colours than yours.

"Yep, they should be upstairs," Hanta replied, running a hand through his hair as he looked over at you. He shifted over to your side, hugging you from behind with a mischievous chuckle. "But we can unpack tomorrow,"

"I like the idea of that, I just wanna snuggle," You responded with a giggle, leaning back into your husband's hold. After a few seconds Hanta stepped forwards, forcing your feet to follow suit. The ravenette guided you both to the nearest sofa, where he messily fell back against the ruby red cushions and you alongside him.

"That's because you procrastinate more than you've ever been willing to admit," Hanta turned you over so you sat atop his middle, hands settled on your hips like they were structured to hold them. There was a smirk on his face as you rolled your eyes at his last comment.

"I procrastinate because you distract me," You corrected, poking his chest with a prominent finger.

"Ah well, what can I say? I'm just that pretty aren't I?" He replied, laughing joyously. You couldn't help but echo with your own form of a chuckle, shaking your head as the smile on your face sent Hanta all kinds of elated emotions through his veins.

"You're not wrong there, Tiger," You grinned ear to ear, staring lovingly in his direction. Words weren't enough to express how much you loved him, your mind struggling to form sentences most of the time with just how much he took your breath away. In truth, you would have allowed yourself to remain gazing into Hanta's eyes the entire night. But you were due to catch sight of an envelope on the coffee table next to you both, drawing your attention away from him as fast as it came. The item too out of the ordinary to ignore. Peculiarly you leaned over to grab it, tilting your head at the item.

"What's that?"

"I don't know," Was your answer. Your fingers proceeded to slit open the top, discovering a smaller, folded piece of paper inside. Curiously you opened it up, voice filling the room as you discovered golden ink was printed on one side and intended to read it out.

" Dear Mr and Mrs Sero,

We are beyond pleased that you chose to stay with us for your honeymoon. Have a wonderful and splendid time at the start of your journey together and we wish you nothing but happiness and joy during your stay.

Kindest regards,

[resort/name] "

"Mr and Mrs Sero," Hanta repeated with a thoughtful stare to the wooden beams above. "I'm still not used to hearing that and we've already been married a week," A smile formed on his lips, releasing a chuckle from the depths of his chest. Almost like he couldn't believe the words he had just uttered. Tilting your head, you pondered on what he meant.

"How do you mean?" You didn't receive an answer straight away, the man you called your husband gently sighed, almost with the case of the lovesick. Somewhere during the exhale Hanta's eyes fell from the beamed ceiling and onto you, gratitude threaded in his expression as he stared at you.

"I just don't know how I got so lucky to marry someone like you," His hand extended to cup your cheek, cradling the slightly chilled part of your face (thanks to the cold air and wind from outside) as his thumb stroked the surface of your skin. Your eyes widened, all too used to the gesture but rarely ever prepared for it whenever Hanta committed to it. You smiled, nuzzling into his warm hold as your eyes closed.

"Me too," You hummed, sighing out yourself as your heart fluttered higher and higher with each passing second. A short silence ensued, ending as you abruptly let out a little laugh. It caught Hanta's attention, his head cosying into the cushion behind him as his brows raised.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about the night you proposed. That's all," Another laugh escaped, humour striking you as you recalled how it had played out. From the manner your lover rolled his eyes, he clearly still hadn't emotionally recovered from it.

"That stupid fire pit," He groaned, eyes closing in annoyance. "I can't believe I let it ruin the moment,"

"I don't think that was the fire's intention, Hants,"

Despite being blatantly confident and bold, when it came to more... intimacy-related things, Hanta Sero's expertise dwindled dangerously. It had taken him months of knowing you to actually ask you out on a date, and when you finally got together? Well, it took him four years before he began to think about popping the question - three months more to actually pop it. Whilst you did say yes once he got down on one knee on the balcony of your holiday home for your fourth anniversary together, the events that proceeded after were what truly traumatised the poor ravenette.

Your holiday was spent somewhere in the Caribbean at a beachside residence that locals rented out for tourists. You and Hanta had always been big on travelling, hence your honeymoon location being such an unconventional place. Or as far as you knew, you didn't have an exact number on how many honeymoons were spent in remote mountain ranges surrounded by blustering winds and snow. It was a nice change of pace to the intense heats nearer the Equator.

During that vacation in particular though, that was the year Hanta finally decided to propose. After a long day on the beach, swimming in the ocean and feeling the sand between your toes as evening approached, you watched the sunset on the balcony of the second floor, neighbouring your bedroom. To set the mood the firepit in the centre had been lit, creating a stunning orange glow in Hanta's eyes as he held you close to his chest.

You noticed he was quite fidgety in his seat, wondering what was wrong with your lover as he gripped his knee tight. Like he was uncomfortable or nervous. Like he needed to get something off of his chest. It was only when you pointed out your concern and his odd behaviour that Hanta managed to shift his stance. Moving from his stiff position to wobbling on one knee, then came the heartfelt speech that gave you a sense of where he was going. A subtle reach into his pocket and before you knew it, you were shouting yes into the night sky and your eyes foggy with tears of complete and utter joy.

Hanta placed the ring on your finger, the realisation hitting him at that moment that you and he were engaged. His excitement got the better of him, the male sweeping you in his arms and swinging you around as he babbled sweet nothings into your ear. The speed wavered his balance, his leg knocking into the table holding a bottle of wine he had ordered specifically for the occasion. Much to both of your bad luck, it all collapsed against the firepit and tipped it over - and one can only imagine what happened next. A rather chaotic ruckus erupted between you as Hanta grabbed you by the waist and flung you both out of the building via the balcony to ensure your safety. Then he 'thwipped' straight back up to the fire and frantically searched for the fire extinguisher to put it out, all whilst you sat on the sandy ground outside, frozen to how drastically the mood had changed.

Luckily the fire didn't spread too far. If not for Hanta's efficiency in dealing with it upfront, it could have spread to the bedroom and the rest of the house. It did not, however, the most damage being the balcony sofas that were scorched no thanks to their wooden frame and white cushioning.

Despite having just been engaged, there wasn't much you and Hanta could do to celebrate. So the night ended with you and he falling to slumber in the early hours of the morning, too exhausted after dealing with the owners' wrath after the slight mishap of nearly setting their building ablaze.

"At least you didn't burn the entire house down," You tried after a few seconds of quiet, earning a scoff on Hanta's part as he ran a hand through his hair.

"It felt like it when I called the owner's to tell them what happened," Hanta answered, softly frowning at the shrieking yells he heard during that call ringing their way through his mind again. Long after he'd shut them out based on the humiliation of being on the receiving end. You giggled, recalling how you were able to hear them despite the phone not being on speaker.

"I'm surprised they let us stay for the rest of the week,"

"That's because I paid the money for the damage caused within six hours of them demanding it," Hanta reminded you, dragging his hands down his face as he groaned out. Probably expelling his inner cringe at his foolishness that night. "Times like that make me relieved I'm a top ten pro, helps out with emergencies a great fucking deal,"

"Are you sure that didn't play any part in their generosity? That you're a top ten pro?"

"No way," He said and sat up to meet your height, hands looping to cradle the small of your back. He held back continuing to briefly peck you on the lips. "The bill they gave me was the complete opposite of generous,"

"How much was it again?" You asked, memory not serving you the answer. The ebony-haired male leaned forwards to kiss you again before he moved his lips up to your ear. His voice became a whisper, telling the sum in Yen which made your eyes widen in astonishment.

"Wow," Was your instinctive reply, Hanta scoffing a laugh in agreement based on your tone of surprise. It was there he nuzzled into your neck, inhaling through his nose to catch a whiff of your scent. The aroma acting as a sedative to wipe the memory from his mind permanently. All he wished to remember of that night was the way your face lit up as he asked you to take his hand in marriage. How your tears formed and how your lips uttered the words he had oh, so desperately wanted to hear after months and months of worry of being rejected.

And look at you both now; husband and wife and on your honeymoon. Holding each other as close as close can be with no doubt or hesitancy in your minds at all. Why he had worried so much was something he would never be able to figure out. As looking back, all of it felt like the easiest thing he had ever had to do.

Due to that, Hanta smiled into your neck. The change could have been missed, but you were far too attentive to not notice. The feeling of his cheeks shaping his smile made you smile as well, your arms wrapping around Hanta's neck in a desperate need to pull him closer. Your fingers ghosted the back of his neck, tickling the hairs that attached with care like no other. You rested your chin on his head, eyes closed gently in comfort. In response, Hanta hummed lowly, hands starting to rub up and down your back like he was giving you a massage.

Silence passed, the two of you simply enjoying the other's company and the intimate moment you had welded together. The proximity created a warmth that could fight any cold, the fireplace behind you both unneeded to fight the swirling snow outside. Your eyes peaked open as the faint crackle of the fire nearby caught your attention. You watched the flames dance for a second or so before you plucked up the confidence to speak.

"Just... let's not set fire to this place. Alright?" You mused, holding your breath as you waited for Hanta's response. Luckily he didn't dismiss it, actually finding the comment quite funny. He voiced a blurt of a laugh, head shaking as much as he could make it whilst it buried into the depths of your neck. Hanta's mouth opened to make his reply, quickly hushing up again to return to the peaceful silence of before, not at all ready to let it go just yet.

"Agreed,"

#bnha x reader #x reader #fluff #mha x reader #anime x reader #boku no hero x reader #my hero academia x reader #hanta sero x you #hanta sero x y/n #hanta sero x reader #hanta sero #sero x reader #bnha sero hanta #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #sero fluff #hanta sero fluff

91 notes · View notes

mxchowind · 3 years

Text

So, sleep well

IJSFJDSG HI THIS IS REQUESTED BY ANON SO I DELIVER THIS 1K WORD(S)??? TO YOU RIGHT NOW FRESH AND HOT. also any suggestions if i hit 100 followers? *insert eye emoji* ALSO TYSM FOR THE SUPPORT AND KEEP THE REQUESTS COMING I’D LOVE TO WRITE FOR YOU GUYS!! TYSM FOR REQUESTING ANON

edit: bro i made so much typos i am cryi g

warning: lowkey angst lmao with xiao background reveal

pairing: xiao x reader

He remembers.

He remembers vividly, the bloodshed screams of those people, the terror on their faces, and how they turn back to the soil of Liyue with grief.

Xiao, no, Alatus remembers, the pain that is more than what a wound could cause, but the agony that strangled him, to his very last breath. It struck more than arrows do, and it broke him into pieces.

Of course, he has forgotten how to rest, someone has to watch over Liyue, and that would always be him. To watch those people’s suffering, and cannot do a thing about it. He is always late, and when he arrives, it is naught but a show of death.

Xiao hates it.

The voices draining in his head, the wounds that would never heal, the war he still fights with himself.

He’s exhausted.

So when his eyelids flutter open from such a nightmare of old memories, panic hits him. Where is he? Is he finally, going to lose his most important person- to lose you? The blood on his hands cannot be washed away, because he’s taken more lives than known, under the control of this one archon. He doesn’t deserve you, in any ways. He knows, Xiao knows, he is nothing but a monster, a weapon, a demon, a-

‘‘Xiao?’’

Oh.

It is then he realises that he’s kneeling on the top ground of Wangshu Inn, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead. Was it really that bad of a nightmare? But while his train of thoughts progresses you hurriedly approach him, kneeling down all the same and his amber eyes- the ones that hold emotions, that hold the entire Liyue, trails to you.

When you touch him, it feels surreal. Are you even real? He wonders. It hurts his head to think, all over his mess of a form, Xiao struggles to stand up, and desperately wishes to hold on tight to your hand- the very own hand of yours that leaves his cheek in a split second. He thought, for so long, he yearned for your warmth, and he wants to-

‘‘Xiao, are you feeling alright? Is it a fever? Or those memories again?’’

He, honestly, isn’t sure at this point. His head feels light, as if the world around him is ready to blur in shades of royal blue and tints of yellow. To think, such a mighty Yaksha would have days like this. When you stand, his gentle voice trembles as he speak,

‘‘Don’t go anywhere, not yet.’’

It’s a plea, Xiao can’t shake the pain away, so he resorts back to your heart, back to you, who truly is there always, first and foremost. You bend down, and hold onto his hand, tight.

‘‘I’m not going anywhere. Don’t worry. If you like, tell me about it.’’

In all honesty, Xiao never confided in you about his past- it’s terrible. It’s gruesome, it’s nothing you, someone so innocent, should hear about. He wrestles his own mind, and fails to keep you safe from those demons everytime, in his dreams. No doubt, he used to eat dreams, after all, and he’s finally paying his price.

Not even Rex Lapis could save him.

So he explains. Those blood, those people who died in his vision, the heavy burden he carries, the memories engraved in his mind that cannot be erased, the prayers they recite for him to rescue-

It’s simply too much.

It is surprising, and you are at once, glad yet sorrowful that Xiao finally opened up. You have never seen him- this vulnerable. You know he shouldn’t, and doesn’t want to show it to anyone, so he hides. He hides his own thoughts, those dreadful memories that haunt him like the very death of the other Yakshas, everything.

You didn’t know, of course. You knew nothing because Xiao was so good at hiding. His pretence was so strong, and held his head high as the only remaining Adepti. His pain was more than someone could ever maintain, and to think-

He endured all of this by himself.

It’s so late in the night, stars glitter and shine upon your figure. When Xiao gazes at you, his breath hitches in his throat. You look like the Moon Goddess. Are you here to finally save him?

Yes, you are.

‘‘Xiao.. listen to me.’’ You start, eyes sincere with every bit of care laced in. He listens, amber eyes reflecting off the moonlight. He looks ethereal. Too daint that you fear he might just disappear into thin air if you don’t grasp properly. So your lithe hands move onto his, those hands that are sheathed away from the harsh gloves, from the battles he fought bravely. You remove the gloves in a gentle motion, and press a kiss on his hand. It feels so soft, yet the calluses from using his polearm remain. It’s his battle proof, he’s done well.

‘‘I love you. Every part of you. How you went ever so bravely against enemies both in the dark and the daylight. I love your hands,’’ you stop abruptly, before caressing those hands, ‘‘They are the proof that you exist, that you fought with evil beings to keep Liyue safe. I love your hair,’’ as you seize a strand, his eyes quivering like a scared mortal who is finally all battered, no more of the suffering bottling up inside, ‘‘They are of a unique colour, and it’s engraved in my mind. I love you, I love you so much. No matter what happened in the past, or what will happen in the future, even if no one forgives you, I will. Liyue is, truly blessed to have an Adeptus like you, dedicated to his duties. So please, rest easy. The stars are singing of praises, close your eyes and listen.’’

For the first time, he doesn’t retort back, because your words bring such comfort upon his beaten mind and heart. It works like magic, and in an instant he hears the stars, the words they whisper to him. The same words you used.

‘‘The moon is guiding your path, so don’t be afraid. You won’t get lost anymore. And what is more? I’m here. Right here, and I won’t leave. Sleep well, my dear.’’

Those words lull him to the ceasing vision, and all of a sudden these thoughts, the memories disappeared into nothingness. The soft wind brushing past his jade-coloured hair, and his eyelids flutter close in a subtle way. Your hand still remains on his ungloved ones, the lenient night whispering its melodies to the skies and beyond, as you press a final kiss on his forehead, where the lilac diamond mark is.

‘‘Goodnight, my hero.’’

#genshin impact xiao x reader #genshin impact xiao #genshin impact oneshot #xiao x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin xiao #tysm for requesting!!#genshin impact #xiao

321 notes · View notes

imagintheworldaway · 3 years

Text

Used

TW: Major angst ahead

A/N So I have opened my requests so if anyone has any requests or questions I'm ready and waiting!

I sat propped up on some pillows on my boyfriends bed scrolling through my instagram and twitter. Nothing unusual really, I had already filmed my video for the week and honestly editing just sounded like too much work for me right now. I had been a YouTuber since 2011 when I was merely a 13 year old kid just posting videos of friends thinking I was hilarious. I had gained quite a large following quickly and was one of the first you tubers to hit 10 million subscribers. I was proud of my fanbase they had grown up with me and I shared my life with them.

This included my boyfriend Harry. We had been together since the first charity match they held back in 2016. i had been there as support for JJ, him and I being friends since we had both gained notoriety on YouTube whilst still being quite young. After the match harry had plucked up courage and asked me on a date, it was awkward at first as I didn’t really know him other than being JJs mate. But here we are almost 5 years on and still going strong. Well that’s what I thought.

After abandoning my phone I decided to check out a few of the boys’ videos. It’s so sweet to see how much each of the boys have grown over the years. I scrolled through few of the comments and for some reason they were saying how it seems that Harry and the girl in the video had so much chemistry. I brushed it off until I saw one commenting how harry never posts about me or mentions me any more, which when I think about it was completely true. At the beginning of our relationship harry couldn’t go a week without posting an instagram about me or a video with me. I looked back on his channel and the last time he has posted me was like a year ago, and on instagram it was halloween, which was nearly 4 months ago.

I wasn’t even mentioned any where at all. How couldn’t I notice this it seems like even the fans had noticed my disappearance from my boyfriends life. i get that we have been together for a while but to just not even address that we were together was a little odd.

I decided to get my mind off of it by posting an instagram story asking fans to ask my questions. After a few minutes the questions came rolling in. The usual popped up like my fave video I’ve ever made and the best holiday that I have ever been on. However, there was an overwhelming amount of questions asking if and when harry and I had broken up. Then came one that really struck me ‘you know he only used you for clout, move on sis’.

I heard the bedroom door open and I shut off my phone plastering a fake smile over my face as my boyfriend walked in. “Hey baby” I smiled as I propped my self on my knees and out stretched my arms for harry to fall into. Instead I got a mumbled “hey” and a glance before he sat at his desk. I slumped back down on the bed and shuffled over so that I was closer to harry. “Is everything alright?” I questioned almost sheepishly “yh, Y/N, I just have to do some work” he said in a frustrated tone, he never called me by name he always used one of our nicknames. i whipped my legs over the side of the bed and started to walk out of his room. “Tea?” I questioned wanting to disappear into his jumper that I was wearing. “You know what Y/N, maybe you should go back to yours” he said not even looking at me. “No tell me what’s wrong, I- I want to help you, I love you” I said in a more stern tone than previously intended. With that Harry whipped around in his chair with his hand reseting on his temple and his gaze avoiding me at all costs. “I see the comments, and the accusations, and they’ve never bothered me ever cause I love you. I truly do and I just want to know what I’ve done” I rambled as I stood still in my place at the foot of his bed.

It seemed like an eternity until he replied. “I just, I don’t feel like we’re working, you changed and well that’s it” he said with no remorse in his voice. My breath hitched in my throat as I wasn’t expecting that type of reply. We had talked about marriage a family our dream home, our whole lives revolved around the other person. Then the comment from earlier rang in my. “Is that true? Or is it because I’m no longer useful to you? I can’t provide the extra clout or subscribers any more to help you grow? Did you even ever love me?” I bombarded Harry with the questions, my voice cracking at the end and a single tear rolling down my cheek. This time he didn’t respond he just stared at me accusingly. I had been nothing but supportive towards this man and to throw it all away out of the blue? How dare he.

I just nodded my head, silent tears rolling down my face, I grabbed my bag and stuffed it with whatever I could see through my blurred eyes. I grabbed my keys and ripped his key off of the chain. The whole time all he did was stare at me, not a tear in sight. The only sound was my muffled cries every now and then.

I turned to Harry with my hand on the doorknob. “Please just say something, anything and I won’t go” I said my voice completely failing me and my mascara stained tears dripping off of my face. He opened his mouth and for a split second I thought he was going to say something. But after no words left his lips, I just nodded. So this was the end, the end of the happiest time of my life. I opened the door and walked leaving my ex-boyfriend to stare at my figure as I walked away. making my way through the apartment and to my car the only thing running through my head was the comments and how blind I had been for so long. As soon as I got there I broke down. The ugly cries came and there was nothing I could do to stop them.

#harry lewis #Harry Lewis imagine #Harry Lewis one shot #wroetoshaw #w2s #Harry Lewis x reader #imagine #one shot #sidemen

111 notes · View notes

shoyomeow · 4 years

Text

EPIPHANY

❀ characters : wakatoshi ushijima x female reader

❀ genre : angst, angst, more angst and a sprinkle of fluff

❀ wc: 1533

“I know I shouldn’t be here.”

“Then why are you here?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You refused to believe it.

Anybody but him.

He couldn’t possibly do this to you could he? Sora must have mistaken him for someone else right? Or who knows, he’s been getting a lot of attention from the press nowadays, maybe a hungry paparazzi made an edit for him. With the technology today it wasn’t completely out of the question right?

You couldn’t even listen to your own thoughts because a part of you knew that you were simply trying to delude yourself by coming up with these justifications. You knew that no one could truly mistake him for someone else, he towered over everyone else and had an overwhelming presence, besides Sora had 20/20 vision. Paparazzi? That’s impossible because he was wearing the clothes that he had FaceTimed you in an hour ago, no matter how good you are it would be impossible for paparazzi to edit such a realistic picture within an hour and even more impossible for Sora to get hands on it before it was posted on social media.

You had always prided yourself in being rational, so why was it that right now you wanted to be anything but that?

Being rational meant accepting the fact that your boyfriend, who you loved and adored and had been with since your second year of high school, had his hands entwined with a stranger.

Being rational meant accepting that the ease in which he was doing this in a public setting meant that it wasn’t the first time.

Being rational meant that you had to acknowledge that he couldn’t possibly be drunk because he refuses to drink for a week before a match, there have never been any exceptions and he probably wasn’t going to start now.

Being rational meant that you couldn’t be in denial anymore.

Being rational meant that Wakatoshi Ushijima, the last person you had expected to hurt you, was cheating on you. And from the looks of it, it probably was not the first time he was doing this.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Ushijima-san, you should go home.” the feelings that you thought you had overcome, the betrayal, the grief, the anger and the hatred you felt for yourself for so long came back crashing on you as you looked at the drunk man. At first glance one couldn’t possibly tell that he was drunk, but you had known him for far too long to not recognise his intoxicated state.

“You used to call me Toshi, please call me that again.”

“Ushijima-san,” you were clutching onto your apartment door so hard that you wondered if you would bleed today, “Do you have someone who can pick you up?”

It was four in the morning and you had been sitting in the same position for the past hour. Prior to that you were far too numb to realise your own emotions as you mindlessly and with a sense of monotony packed your bag.

You sat down on the couch, the first piece of furniture that you had bought with Wakatoshi when you moved in with him, the once beige sofa was stained and had threads coming out of it’s upholstered ends but you never did have the heart to throw it away.

There was a sense of dread that settled at the pit of your stomach as you processed your own thoughts. Were you going to remain oblivious to Wakatoshi doing this had Sora’s friend not sent her those pictures? Was he going to keep the wool over your eyes as you planned for a future with him? What if you two had kids at some point, would he have continued to do this?

The fact that he seemed so normal and nonchalant about him cheating was the thing that hurt you. It would make you a liar if you said that the act of cheating itself didn’t hurt but you could’ve dealt with that pain easier if he had been the one to tell you. But to have him lie to you for god knows how long, and see you plan your suburban fantasy with him was humiliating.

You heard the click of the door and straightened your back, he may have hurt you but you will not give him the satisfaction or ego boost by crying over him.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Please let go of me Ushijima-san.” his grip on the long sleeves of the hoodie you were wearing wasn’t strong, it was similar to the grip a mother would tell her child to practice so that they wouldn’t get separated. You didn’t know how long you could keep up the indifferent facade. You didn’t want him to see you be vulnerable, not back then and certainly not now.

“You used to wear my hoodies too y/n, why did you stop? I always liked seeing you be swallowed up by them.” Ushijima wasn’t a clingy drunk, he was simply a person who exaggerated his pre-existent qualities. He became more blunt, if that was even possible and he always acted on the first thought that popped into his mind.

“Because we have nothing to do with each other anymore, Ushijima-san.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You’re up?” his tone was neutral like it always was, no underlying nervousness, no guilt that you could sense, “Are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah, I’m leaving Wakatoshi.” you wondered how your tone sounded so firm and sincere when you felt like you were breaking apart inside.

“Ah I see, is everything alright?” there was a time when you found him taking everything into a literal sense endearing, now you just wanted to kill him.

“Everything is just dandy, you would know wouldn’t you? After all, you just got laid.” You wondered if it was normal to feel smug as you witnessed the sense of dread, shame and guilt well up in his demeanour, “I just want to know, how long has this been going for?”

He knew better than to lie to you but at least he had the decency to not meet your eyes as shame manifested and bloomed within him, “Around eight months.”

“Eight months,” you mulled over it for a moment when realisation struck you, “That was when you had gone with the team to Osaka right? For a retreat.”

“Yes.”

“I see.” you released a soft sigh, you would cry, you were going to bawl your eyes out as soon as you got into the cab that you had booked for yourself, the one who was definitely going to charge extra for having to wait for so long. You would probably cry for days over the fact that eight months ago, when he had missed out on your anniversary and you had not been worried about it because you had been together for far too long to worry about stuff like that, he had probably been balls deep into someone else.

“Ushijima,” his surname tasted foreign on your tongue as you had not addressed him with that in far too long, “I want you to not talk or say anything else. I’m leaving and by that I mean that I’m leaving you. I wish you luck in your future endeavours and may you forever rot in hell.”

“Y/n,” he called out as you grabbed your things to leave, “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

“You know something?” you smiled at him, the bitter and hate filled smile that you gave him made his heart ache, “I think that’s the first time I’ve recognised a lie of yours. Kudos to me.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“The cab is here Ushijima-san, please get in and leave. I have already told them your address.”

“Why?” He slurred as he was helped by the driver to get into the car, “Why can’t it be our address anymore? Please come back. I miss you y/n.”

You smiled again, the same bitter smile that you had given to him while you were parting two years ago but much less hateful, “Ushijima-san, kindly get the fuck away from me and never try to contact me again. If you show up at my place again I will be forced to take legal

You straightened your back once again as you walked into your apartment.

The pain of him doing what he had done still haunted you, after all, can someone ever truly get over being betrayed by the person they trusted the most? But you could happily say that while the pain still existed, it had reduced into a dull throb.

“Hey babe, who was at the door?”

You couldn’t help but smile at your boyfriend who had his hair in foils waiting for the dye to set in and a face coated with a green face mask, “Oh it was just Ushijima.”

“Oh okay,” Atsumu turned to go back into the washroom, before his mind processed your words causing him to snap his head at you, “WAIT WHAT?”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you walked towards him and pulled him into a soft kiss, trying to ignore the green face mask which had undoubtedly transferred a little onto your own skin, “You’re annoying as hell but I love you so much.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

special shoutout to @samuthots cause i got the prompt list from her and that is what inspired this fic.

@daifwukus

#haikyuu #maya writes #ushijima angst #hq ushijima #hq atsumu #ushijima x reader #haikyuu fic #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu story #fic writing #fic #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#bbthots

255 notes · View notes

funkylittlebard · 3 years

Text

Hey, @too-many-fandoms-no-social-life ! Happy birthday!! I wrote you a thing, hope you like it!

edit 18/05: Ao3 link

CWs: Geralt’s predictably awful self-esteem, there’s a literal monster at one point, but that’s about it

Geraskier hurt/comfort-ish, getting together shenanigans

They had been wandering side by side down the trail when it had happened. Geralt had left Roach in the stables of the last town, deciding that the narrow winding path overgrown with thistles and thorns that lead to his next contract would be too difficult for her to navigate. So it had been just the two of them together strolling along in the shade avoiding the bright afternoon sun. It had happened slowly, at first. Geralt had stiffened and froze, nose twitching as if he had smelled something, and Jaskier had been turning to make a joke that was certain to be in poor taste right as the creature descended on them. Geralt had his sword out instantly, pointing it straight ahead of him, ready to strike at any moment. Jaskier, however…

It wasn't as if he hadn't been trained to use a sword as a viscount's son. It was just that he’d never paid all that much attention, and what little he had taken in had been forgotten over the years. He hadn't even told Geralt he knew how to hold a sword, for god's sake. As it was he didn't carry one, just a few daggers he kept hidden about his person.

He had been reaching for one when it happened. It had taken a moment between seeing Geralt's horrified face, spotting the threat, and making a move for his dagger. His fingertips were just dusting the top of his long dark leather boot when the giant centipede had hit him square in the chest with its mandible, pushing him back down onto the ground. Wide-eyed, he had watched in horror as the thing mounted his chest and hissed at him, rearing its back ready to strike again. Sucking in what he had thought would be his final breath, a panicked thought registered in his head- I never even got to tell Geralt I-

The head had flown off landing centimeters from his own with a sickening squelch and squeal of breath from the creature. Before Jaskier could even think to move, Geralt had been there, piercing yellow eyes boring into him, searching for something. He had let out a ragged breath, and pulled Jaskier up to his chest, holding him close and tight.

Which brought them up to now, with Jaskier sitting in front of the witcher, watching meticulous fingers tear off strips of bandage to wrap around Jaskier’s battered head. He found himself thoroughly entranced by the way those same hands were able to do something so delicate as efficiently as they had wielded the sword that struck the centipede’s head clean off. Geralt hummed and Jaskier peeked up at him again. The frown on Geralt's face hadn't left since he'd placed Jaskier down from their impromptu hug. It seemed unlikely that Geralt was cross with him, but then again, he had a habit of blaming Jaskier for problems of his own making. An involuntary whimper escaped him at the thought, and suddenly he could feel the weight of Geralt's gaze pinning him in place.

“Jaskier-” Geralt rushed forward, slotting himself between Jaskier’s knees and staring up at him, concern etched into every pore. Jaskier felt shaking hands settle tentatively on his knees. “Jaskier, what's the matter?”

They locked eyes and Jaskier’s stomach felt liquid. What if he had died? How could he go on now, knowing that any opportunity to tell Geralt the truth could be snatched from him without even a moment's notice? He felt sick.

“Geralt, I,” he paused, swallowed, and continued. “Geralt I have to tell you something.'' The other man grunted and continued searching for any sign of further injury. Jaskier gasped as his hand slid gently around his face, grazing one of the scratches on his forehead with his fingertips. He stared as Geralt poured a little water on the rag before swiping it across the cut. Jaskier held his breath as Geralt continued his gentle ministrations. He had to tell him, it was too much.

He drew in a deep breath, let it out, and opened his mouth to try again. “Geralt, I-”

“Don't talk.” Geralt silenced him with his gruff reply as he daubed some tincture on and spread it across his forehead. “Makes it harder for me to tell what I'm doing.”

Something about that seemed… off to Jaskier, Geralt could focus on much more difficult tasks in much more taxing circumstances. Instead of questioning it, he swallowed and waited for Geralt to be done, his left foot tapping a frenetic beat on the forest floor as he waited.

After what seemed like years, and as Jaskier could feel the very last of his patience fraying, Geralt finally pulled back. He peered at Jaskier, eyes darting about with a look of intense concentration as he assessed his work. He nodded sharply and turned away.

“You should be fine now.” Jaskier didn't miss the way Geralt's shoulders quaked as he bent down to pack up his supplies. Gathering himself up to his feet, Jaskier padded across the clearing and set his hand down cautiously on Geralt's shoulder. He felt more than heard Geralt suck in a shocked breath. It didn’t matter- he had to do it now, or he might lose the nerve. He tightened his grip ever so slightly on Geralt's shoulder.

“Geralt. Can I tell you what was bothering me now, please?” Jaskier was not above pleading- his eyebrows pulled together and a slight pout emerged on his face. Geralt’s fist clenched, and he ducked his head against his chest with a strained sigh. Although he seemed angry, Jaskier had gotten very good at reading Geralt's moods over the years- this was an anxious sound, not an angry one. Well, that made two of them then.

The possibility that in telling Geralt how he felt he might push him away was not lost on Jaskier. But he had tried silently enduring. He had tried distracting himself with sex and flings, with wine and poetry. Nothing changed how he felt, it just made his heart ache all the more. He would rather lose Geralt than carry on without telling him how he felt. He took in a final steadying breath before letting the words all rush out of him all at once.

“Geralt, when we part it feels like my soul has been torn in two, I cannot stand not to be by your side, ask Essi, I’m tragic without you every winter, because dear heart, I love you.”

He took a moment to breathe, reeling a bit from his admission. The forest seemed to spin around him as he sucked in a nervous breath, in a dizzying rush of dark greens, ochres and browns all spinning into one. He stumbled back a little as his vision settled. Geralt stood in front of him, completely still. Jaskier could feel his eyes beginning to water. Why wasn't he moving? Why wasn't he saying anything? Why wasn't he-

“Jask, you can't.”

What? Jaskier studied Geralt's back as he tried to understand what Geralt meant. He could feel his hands getting clammy and his knees shaking minutely. He thought he had been prepared for rejection, but to hear Geralt spell out that he wasn’t enough for him so clearly...

“Well, it's good to know how you really feel Geralt, thank you for telling me,” Jaskier said forlornly, looking down at the ground and blinking rapidly trying to keep the tears at bay. At least he had had all those years with him before Geralt made him leave.

He cleared his throat and went over to stand in front of Geralt, ready to say goodbye, head back to their room at the inn and collect his belongings to make a hasty exit off into the sunset to anywhere but here. Instead, he found himself stopped short at the sight of Geralt. His hands clenched tightly closed, jaw trembling as he tried to keep it jammed shut. His head was resting against his chest and his hair was falling in a state of disarray that obscured his expression from Jaskier’s view. He took a step closer and reached one arm out in front of him like he did when trying to get Roach to accept his love, cantankerous as she was.

“Geralt?” he said, edging closer. “I understand that you don't feel the same way, that you don’t think I’m good enough for you-”

“That's not it.”

They stood frozen for a moment as Geralt's words settled in. Jaskier blinked and tilted his head in confusion. Nobody moved. Jaskier could still feel the tears prickling in his eyes, threatening to fall at a moment’s notice. He pressed on anyway- he might as well know what the problem was now, having come so far.

“Then what is it, Geralt?” The clearing fell silent again. Geralt haltingly tilted his head up from his chest, and the expression on his face was so raw that Jaskier’s stomach jumped, butterflies fluttering through it. He watched as Geralt swallowed, and frowned as he stared back down at the ground, knuckles turning white where he was clenching his fists impossibly tighter.

“It's me, Jaskier. I'm not good enough for you,” he said it so softly that Jaskier wasn't quite sure he'd heard it at first. Surely this strong, capable, considerate individual in front of him didn't truly think that. He paused a moment. No, that was of course entirely possible. Geralt's view of himself had never been especially reliable. It wasn't surprising, what with how so many other people treated him, and the man’s own views on his ‘mutant’ status, but that didn't make it any easier for Jaskier to hear.

“You're an idiot.”

Geralt didn't move from where he was, didn't blink, didn’t protest. Jaskier sighed- that wasn't what he had meant.

“Of course you're good enough for me Geralt, why ever wouldn't you be?”

Geralt flinched away from Jaskier’s touch. His shoulders hunched, and it took a moment before he spoke again.

“Jaskier… I, I’m nothing compared to you. You have your words, and your songs are… fuck Jaskier I can’t even explain. I-” an irritated sigh ran through him and he scraped his hand through his hair. He winced and tried again. “You.. all I do is kill things. You bring joy to people's lives, and they can’t even look at me. You are so much better than me in so, so many ways.” He stepped away, tension clear in every part of him. Jaskier’s heart melted. How could such a wonderful man think so little of himself? It hurt.

He ran his hand very lightly across Geralt's arm. Then he snatched up his wrist and spun the man forcefully round to face him. A little surprised at his success, he blinked but carried on regardless. He clutched Geralt's hand and brought it up to his chest over his heart, willing Geralt to notice from his heartbeat that he was not lying. He angled his face to try and catch Geralt's eye, and when that proved difficult he reached up with his right hand and caught Geralt's chin, tugging his face so their gazes met. Geralt’s amber stare wavered and flickered, eyes glassy. Jaskier tugged roughly until Geralt's eyes focused in on him.

“Geralt. Darling. I am not too good for you. I'm sorry that you feel that way, but I promise, I will do everything in my power to help you see yourself the way I do.” He let his grip on Geralt's hand and jaw soften. He inched back, let his grip slowly fall completely free, and made to slip a step away. He found he couldn't, because there was a sudden, surprising grip holding him in place.

Geralt's gaze had not moved from the floor but he took in a shuddering breath and looked up once more. His golden eyes glinted in the light, shining with unshed tears. He nodded and moved a step closer.

“Jaskier,” he whispered, reaching very slowly for his hands. “I’m... I’m not good for you. But I…” he sucked in a breath, his anticipation apparent. “I want to be.” He finished firmly.

Jaskier smiled. He could see Geralt's mouth moving slowly towards a smile as well. Nervous but determined to take the opportunity while destiny offered it to him, he looked Geralt dead in the eye and said,

“May I kiss you, my love?”

Geralt nodded cautiously. And then he leaned in. Jaskier couldn't help but notice the way his eyelashes brushed his cheeks as his eyes fluttered shut. Unable to wait any longer, Jaskier surged forward to press their lips together. He sighed, content, as they leaned into each other, and he let his hand fall to rest on Geralt’s waist. He felt Geralt’s smile push up against his mouth and his arms loop across Jaskier’s shoulders. With the sun starting to dim behind them, and the rustling of leaves in the breeze, Jaskier didn’t think he could remember ever feeling so elated in his life.

#happy birthday Cam!!#my writing #the witcher #witcher fic #geraskier #geralt #jaskier #they're idiots your honor

50 notes · View notes

gwynrielendgame · 3 years

Text

Sad nessian part 3

Nyx pov

This is not a super popular fanfic of mine but I had this written (truly it is not edited) but I hate leaving anyone hanging so this is for you! @haepaw

Nyx loved pissing off his father. Even at the young age of 137 (young in fae years) Nyx found any excuse to disobey his father, including participating in underground fighting rings. He wouldn't lie, he also liked the boost to his ego his undefeated title gave him, but mostly he did it because his father told him not too.

"Remind me why I come to this again? Mom would kick all of our asses if she knew about this." Velaris grumbled from her seat next to them. Nyx's two younger sisters came to these fights with him. They always said it was because they didn't want him hurting himself, but he thought part of them wanted to disobey their father as well.

"Mom won't find out." Violet rolled her purple eyes- the only one to receive that trait from their father. "And because we can't let him get killed. It would be terrible for the night court's image."

They all sat side by side on a bench, waiting for the next fight to begin. Nyx was fighting someone new tonight and he was excited about it. He was tired of easily defeating the same fighters every week. He began to wrap his hands while his oldest sister, Velaris, continued to ramble.

"I'm a terrible liar." She groaned. "One look from Azriel and I'll jabber like a canary. I cannot believe I have managed to keep it a secret this long. I have to avoid everyone for at least a day after. Ugh why must you be on a mission to piss off dad at least every five seconds. Could you not try getting along for moth-" Thankfully Velaris was cut off by the announcer. Nyx jumped to his feet, hopping from one foot to the other as his fight was about to start. He began walking to the ring when Violet called out.

"Good luck."

"I don't need it." He sent her a cocky smile before stepping on the mat. He cracked his neck then looked at his opponent. It was a female- Illyrian by the looks of her wings. He was surprised to find they were not clipped. As much as his father tried to put a stop to the outdated practice, most females found themselves being clipped at some point anyways. She was beautiful, almost looked familiar to him. He felt as though he knew her, but at the same time knew he didn't. Her hair was pulled away from her face in a way that showed off her sharp cheekbones while her large eyes were hazel- a typical Illyrian trait. He was trying not to seem thrown off by the pretty female, however, that was much easier said than done. He had only fought one other female and she closely resembled a troll, so her looks had not played much of a factor. The female sent him a wicked smile before tapping both wrists. Illyrian armor began to cover every inch of her as seven, red siphons appeared. Nyx finally let his astonishment show. Not a single Illyrian female was awarded siphons. So how did she get seven of them?

"Where did you get those?" He narrowed his eyes at her. She didn't appear as thief's normally do. She also didn't appear to be a female to participate in an underground fighting ring, so perhaps his radar was off.

"I didn't steal them if that is what you are insinuating." That same coy smile graced her lips. Her voice was low for a females, but once again it sounded almost familiar to Nyx.

"Fight." The announcer sounded off, and the female was instantly a whirlwind of movement. Before Nyx could even reacted, she slammed her fist into his face.

"Fuck." After that stunningly powerful punch, Nyx focused himself into fight mode. He found it hard to keep up with the raven-haired female though. She was using a blend of fighting skills that Nyx was unfamiliar with, and he felt as though he was playing the game of catch-up the entire fight. He was always one step behind her.

"Come on, Nyx! That was pathetic." The oldest brother rolled his eyes at the shout that could only have come from Violet. It was not until the female back-handed Nyx that he realized she was toying with him. His face burned with embarrassment.

"Fucking fight. No need to go easy on me." He grunted as he spit blood from his mouth. The female- he realized he did not listen when the announcer said her name- laughed. She was bruised up pretty badly herself, but Nyx knew it was nothing compared to how he looked. Her siphons flared brightly.

"Aww. Poor High lord's son. Has anyone ever fought you with all their strength?" She stuck out her bottom lip in a pout to continue to tease the male. It struck a chord with him though. He was tired of being babied. He was the oldest son of the two most powerful fae in Pyrinthian and heir to the night court-dammit. He suddenly realized why he liked this fight so much though, she had gone harder on him than anyone else ever had- except for his dead cousin. It fueled him to fight harder. He threw out a fist that connected with her temple. She was definitely seeing stars from the way she stumbled. He guessed she was not expecting that. It had Nyx snickering. She returned with a few well placed jabs that the male knew would be sore in the morning.

"You look Familiar. Do I know you?" Nyx found himself saying as they circled one another. They were both breathing heavy at this point.

"No. Might know my sister though." She threw a kick that connected with Nyx's head. His body splayed out on the ground as he groaned. She did not let up. She sent punch after punch to his face while locking his arms down with her legs. He knew the knockout punch was coming, and so did she because her mouth was by his ear as she whispered.

"Tell Rhysand that Amara sends her regards." His eyes did not even have time to widen before she knocked him out. His last thought revolved around Amara.

Amara was dead and had been for 37 years.

When Nyx finally came too, his sisters pounced on him instantly.

"Oh thank the cauldron! I had no idea what we were going to tell mom and dad if you did not wake up within the next thirty minutes." Velaris practically screeched. He realized then that he was in his room, laying in his bed. Both Velaris and Violet were sitting on the end of it staring him down.

"What happened?" He groaned. Last thing he remembered was the mystery female telling him something about his dead cousin. Violet snorted.

"You lost dumbass. Velaris and I had to fly you to the house of wind by ourselves after you refused to wake up. She knocked you out cold." That would explain why his head was pounding. Fuck, she destroyed him.

"Yeah and you are heavy as shit." Velaris felt the need to chip in. He rolled his eyes before sitting up.

"Did either of you manage to catch her name?" It was impossible for her to be Amara. He remembered what Amara looked like and it was not that. Though, now that he thought about it, he realized why she looked so familiar. She looked similar to Amara. Perhaps a sister? Not impossible, but severely unlikely. His aunt Nesta struggled to conceive any children the entire time he knew her.

"I think it was Elle something? They did not announce it like normal, but I overheard someone call her that." Velaris answered while beginning to look over his injuries, her blue-grey eyes a mask of concern. Nothing seemed to hurt quite as bad as his head.

"I think I could sleep for three hundred years." He muttered.

"Good thing we have dinner at the house in thirty minutes." Violet chirped up. She was looking way too perky for someone who just watched their brother get the shit beat out of him.

"There's no way I'm going to that." He fell back in his bed and pulled the covers over his face once Velaris was done with his exam.

"Too bad." Violet replied in a sing-song voice. "Mom said she had something important to share with us and I am putting money down that she is pregnant again." Velaris groaned.

"She better not be. I am much too young to be taking care of their child while they galavant off to gods knows where." The oldest of the high lord's daughters had always taken on a motherly role. Even though, Nyx was five years her senior, she found herself babysitting both Nyx and Violet more often than not growing up.

"You better get your ass up, so Velaris can cover those bruises with makeup- wouldn't want to keep mother waiting." The younger sister strolled out of the bedroom, her purple dress sashaying behind her.

Nyx did not know how to broach the conversation about Amara. There was no sly or subtle way to insert it into the conversation. He did not want to discuss it at all, however, he felt this was too important to keep from his parents. They all sat around the dinner table while discussing very unimportant matters. Mor and Velaris were squabbling excitedly about something, Gwyn and Azriel were discussing daggers with Violet, and Feyre and Rhysand were murmuring quietly amongst each other. Only Nyx remained silent. That was enough to catch his mother's attention apparently.

"What troubles you, Nyx?" Feyre's eyes brimmed with concern for her oldest son. He was hardly ever quiet, usually deciding to pick a fight with his father.

"There is no way Amara could be alive right?" He spit out. The silence the befell the room was deafening. His mother's concerned look turned to a sharp one- almost a glare while his father ground his teeth together. Both his sisters gave him a look. A look to say shut up before it is too late. Mor finally spoke up after almost five minutes of silence.

"Amara is dead. I saw Koschei kill her myself. We all did." He looked toward the beautiful female. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes.

"Why do you ask, son?" His mother responded in a defeated tone. He did not mean to cause all of this, but apparently time had not lessened the pain of her death.

"I met a female." He started. Both his sisters' eyes widened as though they thought he was going to out all of them. They clearly did not need to add underground fighting rings to the list of things that will piss off mom and dad tonight. He also did not miss the look that Gwyn and Azriel shared. "She said to tell you," he gave his father a pointed look. "That Amara sends her regards." His father's eyes narrowed as he scrutinized his son. Rhysand wanted to make sure this was not another ploy to piss him off.

"What was her name?" Feyre interrupted her mate before he could say anything. Nyx began to shift in his seat uncomfortably. Clearly he should have kept his mouth shut.

"Elle something? I did not catch all of it. She looked like Amara. I mean she looks different than her, but similar enough that maybe they are sisters?" Nyx suggested. He watched as his mother and father shared a meaningful look.

"Who is Amara?" Violet had the courage to ask. She was much braver than Nyx. If their positions were switched, he would have kept his mouth shut. He always forgot that Violet was born the year after Amara died. While Velaris was only five years younger than him, Violet was one hundred and one years his junior. She was practically an infant in fae years at only thirty six years old. Technically, fae reached full maturity at twenty-five years, but when you live an immortal life, thirty-six seems young.

"Your cousin." Feyre whispered. Nyx's attention was caught by Azriel's shadows that were clearly hard at work. They were moving around much more than they had been earlier, indicating they were on a mission for information.

"I did not know Aunt Elain had another child." Violet offered to ease the tension. It only seemed to make it worse though.

"She does not." Their mother began. She finally set her silverware down and pushed her plate away. As if she knew that she would be unable to eat anything else for the rest of the night. Her voice was filled with such sorrow and regret that Nyx wished he never brought it up. If only to avoid hearing his mother sound that way. "I have another sister, Nesta. She is mated to Cassian, who I am sure you have seen pictures of around the house. She struggled to have children and when Amara died, it destroyed her. She blamed all of us and denounced us as family. We have not heard from her since."

"Do not leave out why she blames you." Gwyn snapped. It was the first she had said since Amara had been brought up. She was clenching her knife tightly. A stray shadow wrapped around her wrist causing the mates to have some sort of silent conversation.

"She blames all of us because of me." Rhysand finally admitted. Not even Nyx knew the whole story and Amara was his best friend at the time. Nyx sat at the edge of his seat, anxious to finally hear what happened to his cousin.

"I sent Amara on a mission she was not prepared for. She was captured by Koschei and killed in front of Nesta and Cassian, killed in front of all of us." His father's voice was tense- for obvious reasons, but he could see the hurt behind his eyes. Nyx could see the pain his father felt about the role he played in Amara's demise. "Your mother and I thought Amara was immortal- more so than the rest of us anyways. Nesta had great power that was passed to Amara and it manifested in such a powerful way that we assumed she was more immune to death. We were wrong. Nesta was a dangerous female with unknown power. She had threatened to take your life, Nyx, in retribution for the role I played. Cassian, himself, threatened to kill me. However, when the opportunity presented itself, the mates left and have yet to return. I suppose Nesta being pregnant at the time would explain why neither of them have sought revenge after all this time." Rhysand let out a long, contemplative sigh at the end of his explanation. Nyx was more than a little shocked to discover his favorite Aunt had threatened to kill him. He was devastated by her disappearance especially since no one would explain why they left. He found it hard to believe that his uncle Cassian would allow his mate to do something so drastic, but perhaps grief makes monsters of us all.

"Befriend the female, Nyx." His father suddenly demanded. His tone changing from one of grief and regret to his commanding High Lord voice. Nyx found it grating. "Many fae learned of Amara's demise. Someone could be trying to trick us. Best to keep the enemy close, yes?" Rhysand lifted an eyebrow at his son. The entire table knew that Nyx could not disobey the High Lord command. They also knew he would try his damnedest to piss off his father.

"And what if she is Nesta and Cassian's daughter? What then?" Nyx held his breathe as his father contemplated.

"Then we kidnap her and hope the couple will hear us out before killing the entire city of Velaris."

#nesta acheron #cassian #nessian #nyx acotar #acotar #acosf

31 notes · View notes

wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 8: Old Friends, Not So New Tricks

Summary: When a familiar face turns up asking for Katie’s expertise, she finds herself confronted by another familiar face, this one being one she would rather never have had to see again.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Language! Blood and SPOILERS if you haven’t seen Agents Of SHIELD….

A/N: Once again huge thanks to @angrybirdcr for her edit here, and the new banner for the next couple of sections of the story as we head forward through the next few parts of SSB...

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 7

O/S: Phobias

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

November 2013

There’s a fine line between success and failure. And that last mission had well and truly teetered its way along the edge. The team had been split up after a catastrophic coms failure leaving Katie and Evans badly compromised. They had just about got the situation under control after some quick thinking from Katie and very sharp shooting from Evans, when Steve had broken every protocol in place and run head first into a gun fire to get them out, putting himself in danger.

And Katie was livid at him.

“We had it under control!” she said, her voice raised as she stormed through the corridor away from the hangar, people turning to look. They’d been arguing about it all the way home.

“Yeah, well, it didn’t look like it from where I was standing!”

“Damned it Steve!” She spun to face him. “You weren’t standing anywhere, you were running, head first into the crossfire without even thinking about what was going on!”

“The last thing I heard was that you were surrounded-”

“This is EXACTLY what I don’t want you to do!” Katie groaned as she ran her hands over her face “Run in there without a second thought for your own damned safety or anyone else’s.”

“What do you mean anyone else?” Steve’s nostrils flared.

“You left Rumlow and Rollins completely uncovered,” Katie shook her head, “to come and save me. I’m not a fucking princess that needs rescuing Steve!”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” Steve’s voice was loud, displaying the anger he was feeling inside at her attitude.

“I’ll talk to you how I want!” She snapped back. “You know everyone gossips enough about us as it is and we’re almost seven months down the fucking line…”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“…and yet you STILL give them fuel!” She threw her hands out to the side, bringing them back down to her combat outfit clad sides with a slap. “Oh look at Nova, needs her Super Soldier Boyfriend to bail her out!”

“For the last time…” Steve hissed between his teeth, but Katie completely ignored him.

“If you can’t remain objective when we work together then maybe we shouldn’t be on the same team.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t if that’s how you feel!” He practically snarled, as he took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders back as his hands dropped to his belt buckle, eyes blazing.

“Glad we understand one another.” Katie spat back, before turning on her heel and heading towards the armoury to change, ignoring his shouts.

****

After debrief, for the first time in ages Steve left work alone. He was in a foul mood, and practically wrenched his apartment door off its hinges. In part he was pissed at Katie’s attitude, but in others his anger was directed at himself because deep down he knew she was right. He’d utterly lost it when he’d heard she was in trouble and hadn’t been able to do anything else but rush in there to help get them out. It was ridiculous, she was a trained agent with a shot on her like you wouldn’t believe, and the amount of times they’d been in bad situations before…but something today, something about the way she’d sounded on the radio had gotten to him and he’d abandoned all thoughts of professionalism and gone after his girl.

Sighing he threw his keys down on the kitchen side and grabbed a beer from the fridge before making his way into the living room, toeing off his boots as he want. He dropped onto the sofa and let out a loud moan of frustration, his head lolling back against the cushions. He hated that they’d rowed, this was the first big argument they’d actually had. Sure they quibbled about small things, the fact he made her sleep on the right hand side of the bed at his because it was furthest away from the door (just in case anyone got in), the way he was a bit of a neat freak and when she did stay for more than a night his apartment looked like a whirlwind had been through it (Ok, he didn’t actually mind that so much in truth), the way she tried on every fucking outfit she owned before they went out (maybe not every outfit, but close enough…), the way he often went for a run first thing in the morning and she’d get pissed he wasn’t there when she woke up because…well, because….but all that was stuff he adored. The normal part of being with someone you were comfortable sharing your life with.

As he took a pull from his bottle his eyes rolled to the right and fell on the large photo frame on his wall. It was one she had made him for his birthday.

“Open the big one first…” She instructed, nodding to the gifts that were piled on his sofa.

He did as he was told without saying a word, picking it up and resting it on his lap. It felt like a photo frame. As he peeled back the wrapping paper he realised that’s exactly what it was. It was large with glossy pine edges to match the furniture in his apartment and filled with photos of him all from his life before the ice and his eyes grew large as he took in the faces that looked back up at him. There was a photo of him and Bucky as kids, another as teenagers, then one of them in the army- the one of them laughing that Katie had said she loved. His eyes began to mist over as he saw a few shots of his parents at their wedding in Ireland, on the steps of their tenement building at Brooklyn, one of him and his mom when he was a small boy, then he spotted one of him and Howard along with various shots of him with the Howling Commandos and finally one of him, Colonel Chester Phillips and Peggy. And at the bottom of the frame, on a silver plaque was engraved a quote from the Wizard of Oz- ”A heart is not judged by how much you love, but by how much you are loved by others.”

“I thought it was a shame to just keep them in a box.” Katie said gently as she sat next to him. “I wanted you to see them every day and remember you meant as much to them as they did or do to you.”

His fingers trailed over the various faces in the frame as the memories flooded his brain and he felt a lump in his throat at the wave of nostalgia crossing over him, and also at the utter thoughtfulness that had gone into her gift.

“I picked what I thought were the nicest ones.” She continued and he was aware her tone was growing nervous. “But we can swap them if…”

“Katie,” his voice was croaky as he cut her off and looked up at her. He was right, she was biting her lip, worried that she had upset him but nothing could be further from the truth. He moved to take her face in his hands and he kissed her, hard. He pulled away and looked at her speaking with utter honesty and sincerity “This is amazing, Darlin’. Thank you so much.”

Letting out a sigh, Steve’s eyes dropped from the wall to a smaller frame on the sideboard, this one contained a photo of him and Katie a ‘selfie’ of the two of them at the Top of the Rock, taken when they had gone back to New York to visit Tony one weekend in October. He loved it, the pair of them grinning like idiots, Katie wearing a baby blue sparkly beany and matching scarf, her smile genuine and him looking like a loves-struck idiot, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he glanced at the camera. She had the same photo in her living room too.

No, he couldn’t go to bed without sorting this out. Abandoning his half-drunk bottle of Sam Adams, he shoved his shoes back on, grabbed his keys and headed out.

****

Katie didn’t even stay for debrief, more to piss Steve off than anything. It was petty, yes but she was absolutely raging at him. Their relationship had been the talk of the Triskelion for months, and for that reason, they had behaved nothing but professionally on missions, wanting to prove to not only everyone they worked with, but to themselves, that they could remain objective in their work and that them being together wouldn’t compromise the way they behaved in the field.

And now he had fucked that.

She ignored his call which came just as she got home and throwing her phone onto the sofa she grabbed a glass of wine and ran herself a bath, turning her music up loud. She lay back under the bubbles, gently humming along to the music. Music was her thing to calm down to. She’d always played piano, right from the age of four when her mom had taught her, and she wasn’t bad at it either.

The mellow sounds of John Legend’s ‘Ordinary People’ faded into the opening notes of ‘Only One In Color’ by Trapt, and Katie paused, smiling. This song took her years back, to nights in London with colleagues in bars, and then a concert in Orlando in 2009…and Steve, it took her back to Steve and one rainy afternoon in August.

Katie shimmied around, folding laundry and dropping it into the basket as she sang, loudly. It had been ages since she’d done this, just danced around her apartment like an idiot. She turned round to grab the final load out of the machine and screamed as Steve was stood in the doorway, arms folded, leaning against the frame, that annoyingly cute smirk on his face.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Jesus, how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough” He grinned, crossing the room and wrapping his arms around her. He nuzzled into her neck and the two of them stood there, still, listening to the song that was playing.

“What is it?” Steve asked, pressing a kiss to the spot just below her ear..

“It’s called Only One In Color, by a band called Trapt.” Katie replied, turning her head to look at him. “It kinda reminds me of you actually.”

Steve smiled as they listened for another second before he moved back, his hand taking hers as he raised it above their heads and spun her round, playfully as she laughed, before he pulled him to her.

“Dance with me.”

“What, here? In my apartment?”

“Our own private ballroom.”

“You’ve never danced before.” Katie looked up at him. “You told me.”

“I know, Peggy was right.” He took a deep breath and looked at her. “I was waiting for the right partner. So, what do you say? Teach me?”

“You know I don’t really know a lot of steps.” Katie felt a smile spread across her face as Steve placed his free hand on the curve of her waist and she began to lead them around on the spot, her right hand held in his left, her left curling up and over his right shoulder. She watched Steve, who was concentrating so hard that his brows pinched together slightly, a look that was incredibly endearing.

“Stop over thinking it.” She said gently, looking up at him. “Listen to the music and just let go.”

So he did. He let go, listening to the melody and the words, smiling a little as the lyrics hit home, really making him think about the woman in his arms. She had brought colour to his life, given him a reason to keep going in this world he had found so strange and, well, daunting. As he found his rhythm, he felt the smile pull even broader on his lips. He raised his head from where his eyes had been focussing on his feet and his girl beamed up at him, squeezing the hand that she held.

“See, it’s not that hard is it?” She giggled. Steve returned the grin and shook his head.

“Surprisingly not.” He admitted. They continued to revolve around the space in the doorway between her kitchen and laundry room and Katie lay her head on his chest, Steve’s face automatically turning down slightly so his cheek was resting against her hair. After a minute or so Katie felt him move and instinctively she looked up and could do nothing but smile as they stopped dancing and their mouths drifted closer together. Her hand slipped up, fingers stretching themselves into the short hair at the nape of his neck as his lips met hers, his hand creeping across her back, large palm pressed firmly against her spine.

They never made it to the bedroom, they made it as far as the couch before they were both naked and going at it like a couple of horny fucking teenagers. And since then it had been ‘their’ song.

Katie sighed and drained her wine glass before she set about washing her hair and climbed out of the bath. She dressed in a pair of shorts and a hoodie before pulling her damp hair back into a French braid and had just settled on the sofa to watch TV when the buzzer to her apartment went. Picking up her phone to look at the security camera she took a deep breath and realised it was Steve.

“Sweetheart let me in. My key card is at home.”

She gave no response.

“I’m not going till you do, you know I could do this all day. Or all night.”

Still no response.

“I mean it’s a pretty interesting buzzer.”

With a groan, knowing full well the stubborn little shit in him would do just that, she pressed the button to let him in. Half a minute or so later the alert went again to signal he had requested access to her floor. Once more she tapped to accept and turned her attention back to the TV. She didn’t look up as the elevator door in the panel in her wall slid open, keeping her eyes focussed on the television as he strode into the room, heading straight for her once he’d hung his jacket up on the hooks to the right of the elevator.

“You were gonna watch this without me?” Hesaid gently, nodding to the episode of ‘Brooklyn Nine-Nine’ that was playing as he dropped down next to her.

“Yes.” She replied simply, her arms folded.

Steve fought the smile spreading across his face at her childishness. He knew if she was mad the worst thing he could do was laugh at her and make her think he wasn’t taking her seriously. So, he took a deep breath and turned so he was facing her on the couch, arm resting along the back.”

“I know you’re pissed at me.” He sighed. “But come on Doll, I hate fighting with you.”

“Then stop being a dick.” She snarked back. Steve took another deep breath and looked at her as she continued. “You know what it’s like at work, everyone has constantly analysed everything I do because, hello, Howard Stark’s daughter, and today…”

She trailed off and Steve looked down at his hands and shook his head. “I know. I didn’t mean to make it look like you couldn’t handle yourself.”

They fell into silence and Katie exhaled sharply, deciding to meet him half way. She knew he hadn’t meant to make her feel like he had but, there was also a part of her that had been scared. Not just for her and Evans, but seeing Steve rush in, headfirst with no regard for his own safety just to get to her had really frightened her. Despite his enhanced nature, he wasn’t invincible.

“You need to trust me when I’m out there.” She spoke, her voice was softe.

“I do trust you, you know that.” He looked at her. “But I’m not gonna apologize for looking out for you, Sweetheart. It’s my job. Both as your Captain and your man.”

“I get that, I do.” Katie sighed. “But you put yourself in danger today, running straight into the middle of a fire fight…can you imagine what I’d have done if you’d have been…”

She trailed off, swallowing and took a deep breath before she continued and her words hit Steve. He hadn’t considered she had felt as worried about him as he had her.

“We have to remain objective, and if that means you can’t just abandon the team for me.”

“I know, you’re right, I’m sorry.” He said finally.

She looked at him and took a deep breath, the anger dissipating at his apology and moved to give him a hug, her arms round his shoulders as he wrapped his around her back and pulled her clumsily into his lap.

“I’m sorry for reacting the way I did.” She sighed as she lay her head against his.

“Forgiven?” He asked and she looked down at him, he was giving her his puppy dog eyes. She rolled her own, she couldn’t stay mad at him, especially when there was a small part of her that couldn’t help but adore the fact he cared so deeply for her that he’d rush in, head first with no regard for anything else.

“Captain Dumbass.” She grumbled, before giving him a soft kiss.

“Guess so.” He chuckled. And when she didn’t protest he gently tapped her thigh, and knowing what he wanted she shifted off his lap so he could lay down flat on the sofa, allowing her to drape herself over him like blanket, head on his chest as his arms wrapped around her back, legs tangling together as they settled in to watch their programme.

*****

Katie hadn’t been in the office for five minutes the next morning when she got a message to say Fury wanted to see her. In the years she had known the director, she still found it hard to get a read on him and this time was no exception. She stepped into his office and he nodded to her, and without a word got straight to business, leading her over to the screen on the wall by the sofas.

“I was wondering what you made of this.” He said nodding to the large screen on the wall. The photo displayed was of a tree trunk, cut in half and running down the middle was a long, tube like shape, with some markings on it. The photo zoomed in and Katie frowned.

“These look like the markings on Thor’s hammer.” She looked at the Director.

“Funny you should say that.” Fury nodded. “Because the Spectrographic signatures match the readings from Thor’s hammer too.”

“So whatever was in that tree was Asgardian?”

Fury nodded. “It looks that way, Nova, yes.”

“Where was it found?”

“That’s a trunk from a Norwegian spruce in Trillmarka National Park, Norway.”

“Figures.” Katie bit her lip.

“How do you mean?” Fury looked at her.

“The legends of Thor, they all have origins in Norway. When I asked him about it, Thor explained that Asgardians visited Earth thousands of years ago.” She explained. “They roamed Norway, mingling with the old Norse people, but back then, because humans couldn’t understand the concept of people from another planet, these, well, these aliens were revered as Gods.”

Fury gave a noise of understanding.

“So who took it?” She asked. “Has Thor been back since the whole incident in Greenwich or…”

“I wish he had, then I wouldn’t really give a shit.” Fury sighed. “This thing has gone AWOL. According to my team on the ground, it was taken by a woman and a man, very much of Earth”

“Great.” Katie rolled her eyes, before she continued, her tone laced with sarcasm. “Because every time something alien lands in human hands that ends well.”

Fury gave a snort and pressed a button on a remote and she turned her attention to the TV on the wall of the office. It was screening a news broadcast, footage of a riot. The runner on the bottom of the screen identified the location as Oslo.

“The rioting has left twenty injured and three in a critical condition. Reports indicate that the group of about a dozen was led by this man and woman.”

A picture of the culprits filled the screen. The man was tall, dark haired, dark eyed and had a short beard. The woman, in contrast was slight, blonde and with icy blue eyes.

“And although their motive was unclear, the message was spelled out on the streets of Oslo, for all to see”

“It looks like the item has given them powers beyond those of normal humans.” Fury spoke as the newscast panned over to a fire on the street, this time an aerial view. The fire spelt out the words “We are Gods”.

“So what do you need me to do?” Katie asked, looking at him.

“I’m gonna need you to work with one of my field teams.” Fury continued, looking at her. “My best field team, actually. I want you to help them track these guys down. You have a decent knowledge on Asgardian and Mythological history and the team could do with someone with a little background on the subject.”

“Sir, if these people are as powerful as this report is saying, shouldn’t we consider at least trying to contact Thor, possibly the rest of the Avengers?” Katie looked at him.

“No.” Fury’s response was instantaneous. “I don’t want the Avengers involving. It would attract too much attention.”

“With all due respect, they just set a street on fire. I dare say it’s already attracting a fair amount of attention so whats-“ She trailed off as Fury looked at her, an expression on his face that Katie knew extremely well having seen it several times before. The expression he wore when he was about to drop a bombshell. “Oh, what are you hiding Nick?” She frowned.

“I want you to understand that you’ve been kept in the dark about this so far for a reason. And I know you’re going to get emotional, but if you could refrain from throwing that coffee you’re holding, Nova, I’d appreciate it.”

“Dark about what?” She pressed, her tone irritated. She didn’t have time for this bullshit.

Agent Fury pressed a button on his phone on his desk. “Alright, you’re up.” And with that the TV snapped onto a different channel and she turned to see a familiar man sat in a chair on the screen.

Katie didn’t throw the coffee, instead it slipped from her hands as her mouth dropped open and the entire room swam in front of her eyes.

“Sorry, boss. The God rabbited”

“Just stay awake. EYES ON ME!”

“No. I’m clocked out here.”

“Not an option!”

The room came back into focus again and she looked from the screen to Fury, then back. “This…this is impossible.” She stammered.

“I’d have said the same thing myself not long ago.” Phil Coulson gave a shy little smile.

Katie found herself floundering for words before the anger at the lies and deceit bubbled up.

“No, you…you died! I was there, I saw it!”

“Excellent medics.” Fury concluded.

“They took you away, in a body bag!” Katie’s voice rose to a yell as she ran her hands over her face, unable to believe what she was seeing. She’d cried, mourned the loss of one of her friends, a man who had been her mentor. She looked at Coulson on the screen, and then away again, her eyes misting up slightly.

“No one knew I’d pulled through until after New York.“ Coulson spoke softly “I spent months recovering in Tahiti. It’s a magical place.”

“I want your word that you will not reveal Agent Coulson is alive to anyone.” Fury spoke and Katie turned to look at him, her face curling up in an angry sneer. “I debated long and hard about pulling you into this but we need you.”

Katie eyed the director, chin jutting upwards as she glared at him. “Don’t you ever get tired of the lies?”

“I have no option.” Fury’s face was stern. “I can’t risk the Avengers falling apart.”

“I’m not lying to them for you.” She shook her head “No way. A team is built on trust. Without that you have nohing.”

Fury looked at her for a moment, before he sighed. “That wasn’t a request, Agent Stark. If you tell anyone I’ll remove you from service.”

“So now you’re blackmailing me?”

“I’m merely pointing out your options.” Fury replied simply.

“You are unbelievable.” She shook her head. “Fuck you. Fuck this.”

She turned to walk out of the door before Coulson’s voice rang across the room.

“Katie, please. We wouldn’t be asking this of you if it wasn’t urgent, but we really do need your help

The use of her first name, not her code name, made Katie stop in her tracks. Taking a deep breath she spun back, fire in her eyes as she glared at Coulson’s image on the screen. “Why should I?”

“Because, ” Coulson continued, “you’re the only one I trust enough with this.”

Katie ran her hands over her face, torn between wanting to leave and her desire, sorry, duty to help. In the end her duty won out and she felt her shoulders slump as she looked back towards the two men, giving them both a curt nod.

“Fine, but that does not mean that I’m happy about this. Any of it.”

“You’ll rendezvous with the Bus in Oslow.” Fury instructed, ignoring her emotion completely. “There’s a Jet being prepped to take the new shift of mobile STRIKE team members out as we speak. You can go with them.”

“Whatever.” She shrugged. With a final roll of her eyes she made to leave the room before Fury called after her.

“Agent Stark.”

“What?” she demanded as she spun round, fixing her eyes on his.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed, shaking his head. “But I had to do it.”

She swallowed, before she turned and left, not trusting herself to respond.

*****

Steve was looking for Katie, he knew she’d been to see Fury and was eager to find out what it was about. After asking a few agents if they’d seen her he finally tracked her to one of the kitchens where she was sat, hugging a cup of coffee like her life depended on it, staring down at the table. He frowned, she looked absolutely beat.

“Sweetheart?” He asked tentatively as she looked up at him. His frown deepened when he saw her face. She looked distraught. “Honey, what is it?”

One look in his eyes and Katie knew she couldn’t lie to him, she didn’t want to lie to him. Fuck Fury, fuck all of this.

“Coulson…he…” She stammered, looking up at Steve, her eyes wet.

“What about him?” Steve frowned.

She took a deep breath, tears now rolling down her face. “He’s alive, Steve, he’s fucking alive.”

And then the dam broke and she began to sob. Steve instantly went into autopilot, pulling out a spare chair and moving it close to her so he could wrap his arms around her as she cried into his tevlar clad chest, his own mind whirling at the news.

Eventually she calmed down to tell him everything. And Steve listened, not saying a word, simply holding her hand, his thumb skating over her knuckles as she spoke. He did, however, make an angry noise that was half way between a snort and a growl when she told him Fury had threatened to sack her if she told anyone.

“I honestly thought I’d seen it all, that nothing life threw up would ever surprise me again.” She sighed looking at Steve as she finished explaining.

“Ten bucks says you’re wrong.” He smiled softly and she spluttered a watery laugh through her tears, remembering what she’d said to him the first time they had met. “There’s my girl.” Steve reached over to gently brush her cheek with his hand. “I like it better when you smile.”

“Sorry, but I’m so angry. Fury is lying, again! Has he learnt nothing from everything that’s happened over the past few years?”

Steve didn’t say anything, merely studied her face for a moment and then both of them turned their attention to the door when one of the Junior Agents appeared.

“Agent Stark, Director Fury asked me to tell you we’re wheels up in an hour.”

“Thanks.” She nodded, sniffing before she looked at Steve. “I don’t even have time to pack.”

“You got some stuff in your locker, right?”

She nodded. She always had a few days’ worth of clothes in her locker and toiletries to hand, just in case. She ran her hands over her face and stood up. “You know, I don’t even know who I’m meeting!” She shook her head. “Other than Fitz and Simmons, I’ve no idea who Coulson has on The Bus.”

“Whoever it is I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Steve assured her. “And I know it’s shitty but they asked for you for a reason.”

“Suppose I best make the most of it, seeing as it will be my last mission, you know, on account of me telling you.”

“It won’t come to that.” Steve shook his head “I’m not gonna tell anyone I know.”

“Fury always finds out.” Katie sighed. “Tony is right about him. His spies have spies.”

Thirty minutes later she was walking to the hangar, suited in her SHIELD cat suit, Steve carrying her holdall for her as they walked. The Captain didn’t like this, he hated that she was effectively being manipulated and he would have loved nothing more than to give Fury a piece of his mind but he couldn’t, because he wasn’t supposed to know. They reached the bottom of the jet and Katie turned to him as he handed her bag to one of the agents who nodded to them both.

“I’ll call you as soon as I can.” She promised as Steve looked down at her and nodded

“Make sure you do.” He raised an eyebrow. “Not sure how I’m gonna cope without my best girl.”

“Your best girl?” She teased. “How many others do you have?”

“One or two.” He shrugged. “But they’re in different states, so, they don’t count, right?”

She gave a laugh as she shook her head. “Jerk.”

Steve chuckled and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. “You know you’re the only one for me, Doll.” He dropped a soft kiss to her lips. “Just go do what you gotta do. I’ll be here when you get back.”

He kissed her again, this time a little longer, although both still well aware that they were in the middle of a very busy hangar, surrounded by a lot of people. Sighing, Katie pulled back and allowed herself to melt into his arms for a quick hug before she stepped back.

“I love you.” She said gently.

“You too. Be careful.” He looked at her, his features verging on stern with his warning.

“I’m always careful.” She grinned, walking backwards up the ramp, wanting to look at him for as long as possible.

“Well that’s just an out and out lie.” He raised an eyebrow, hands dropping to the buckle of his belt.

She grinned, blew him a kiss and then disappeared into the main part of the jet. Steve watched for a second as the ramp shut before he turned and left the hangar.

*****

The flight over to Oslow wasn’t too long. Katie used the time to do as much reading up on the item they were tracking as possible, going through all the files that Coulson had sent her. Eventually they docked with The Bus and her and the other agents made their way to the Air Lock. The doors shut and the capsule took them down a level before the frosted glass doors opened and there, stood in front of her, was Phil Coulson. The other agents pushed past, clearly fine at the sight of a dead-not-dead man in front of them.

There was a moment’s hesitation, where Coulson and Katie simply looked at each other, and then Katie’s anger boiled over and she stepped forwards, slapping him, hard across the face. The agents who were milling around all paused as Coulson’s head snapped to the side.

“Guess I deserved that…” He said, turning his head back to look at her as everyone hastily carried on with their jobs.

As Katie stared at her old mentor, her anger melted away and with a little sigh she threw her arms around him. Coulson squeezed her back, before Katie moved a little to look at him, before she spoke for the first time.

“Good to see you again. Not dead, I mean.”

Phil gave a chuckle. “You too Nova. Come on, the rest of the team are waiting in the lab.”

He led her down the hall, Katie following, her eyes taking in her surroundings before Coulson stopped at the end of a corridor, near a door to a room that she could see had a glass wall.

“Now, before you go in, there’s something else you should know.” Coulson turned to face her and she looked at him, letting out an angry groan.

“What now?”

“I want you to know, Fury didn’t want me to tell you as he didn’t think you would come, it wasn’t my decision to keep it from you.”

“Keep what from me?” Her temper was flaring again. “I swear to God AC I am this close…”she held her fingers an inch apart, “to losing my shit!”

Coulson hesitated for a moment and then opened the door to the lab. As they walked in six people all looked up from what they’d been watching and turned to face them. One of them was a dark haired girl she didn’t know and next to her were Jemma Simmons and Leo Fitz who Katie knew from the labs when they had worked with Lawson. Then she spotted Melinda May, an agent only rivalled in fighting skills by Natasha.

And then a pair of familiar dark eyes met hers as another familiar face looked up from a tablet.

“Oh for fucks sake!” Katie muttered and she turned to Coulson who shrugged apologetically.

“Good to see you too.” Ward grinned as Katie folded her arms and glared at him.

There was a moment’s pause as the two simply stared at one another, Katie’s teeth grinding together in irritation, before the girl with the dark hair spoke. “Okay, so this is awkward…”

“And this is Skye.” Coulson spoke, breaking up the tension. “She’s a…”

“Hacker.” May supplied, at the same time Skye replied, “consultant”

Katie was really struggling to keep her temper under control now, so missed the irritated glare Skye shot at May. First Coulson, now this. Fury was going to absolutely get the full Stark-slash-Supernova explosion when she got back.

“So, shall we get down to business?” Coulson asked, spotting the look on Katie’s face, realising she needed to focus on something else. “What have you got?”

“We’ve managed to identify our thieves.” May spoke as Sky pressed something on the tablet she was holding. A close up of the woman’s face appeared on the holo-projector in the middle of the room. “Her name is Petra Larson”

“And this is Jakob Nystrom, her boyfriend. Both thirty. Leaders of a Norse Paganist hate group”

“And their numbers are growing thanks to what happened in London and the internet” Sky scoffed. “Yay internet,”

“Norse Paganist?” Simmons questioned

“Obsessed with anything derived from Norse mythology, stories of Asgard, yada yada.” Skye explained.

“And now a weapon.” Ward gestured to a long object on the table which Katie hadn’t noticed until that point.

“Is that a 3-d print?” She asked, instantly captivated by the item, looking at Fitz who nodded. “May I?”

“Of course…” He said. Katie picked it up and turned it over in her hands, testing the weight as she scanned it up and down. The detailing was exquisite.

“The scan accounted for only one side.” Fitz explained. “There was too much damage to the tree for a complete reproduction”.

“But, see here, it’s clearly broken on both ends.” Katie held it up. “So there are more pieces.”

“Yeah, two at least” Fitz responded, nodding.

“Which means Sid and Nancy may be looking for a complete set.” Ward spoke as Coulson turned to Katie.

“The markings. Just as you said on the call they’re Asgardian symbolism.”

She looked at the item in her hand and nodded. “Similar to Thor’s hammer.”

“Yeah, hard to translate with our limited knowledge.” Couslon shrugged.

“You should give your buddy the God of Thunder a shout.” Sky spoke “He gets his powers from his hammer, right? What if this is his nail to the hammer?”

“He’s off grid.” Coulson looked at her. “And if he has a cell-phone, we don’t have the number.

“I told to get him a pager.” Katie muttered as she peered at the rod and then something stirred in her mind, and she began racking her brains. There was something similar about this, something that she’d seen or read before, if she could only remember what.

“So,” May looked at Katie, “SHIELD’s investigations are on the trail of Nystrom and his followers.”

“We’re charged with identifying the object and finding any other pieces before they do.” Coulson finished.

Katie nodded, still thinking. “If this acts in the same way as Thor’s hammer then that’s a sensible task.”

And then she trailed off as it suddenly hit her exactly what it was she’d been trying to remember.

“No, it can’t be.” She muttered as Coulson looked at her questioningly. She nodded to the item in her hand and then looked back at him. “I could be wrong but this…this could be a piece of the Beserker Staff.”

“The what?” Ward frowned.

“It’s from an old legend that a great warrior, from another world came to Earth” Katie spoke, recalling the research she’d done once upon a time. “He had in his possession a magical staff but he loved Earth so much he never left, and he broke the staff into pieces and hid them.”

“Any idea on where?” Coulson asked. Katie shook her head.

“Well our Pagan friends certainly seem to have some advantage on that front.” Ward sighed. “They found this thing in a hundred and fifty square kilometres of Norwegian forest.”

“Guys, what if it called to them with magic?” Sky asked, her eyes going large and excited.

“Called to them?” May shot her a ‘be real’ look in response.

“We know it’s Asgardian, so the rules are a little bendy here.” Skye pressed.

“Just because we don’t understand something yet doesn’t mean we should regress back to the dark ages, talking of magic and fairy tales” Simmons shook her head and Fitz scoffed his agreement.

“Actually, that’s exactly what we need to do.” Katie looked around as the idea came to her.

“Excuse me?” Simmons asked.

Ignoring him, Katie turned to Agent Coulson. “Remember when we first found the hammer in New Mexico, and I told Fury to consult with an expert on Norse Mythology to fill the gaps.”

“Elliot Randolph,” Phil nodded.

“We should speak to him, he’ll know more about it than me.”

“Alright.” Coulson nodded, looking at May. “He’s a professor at the University of Seville. Set the course, let’s pay him a visit.”

“Shouldn’t take us too long.” May shrugged “But it is getting kinda late. By the time we get there it will be past eight in the evening local time. Can I suggest we head out first thing tomorrow morning?”

Coulson nodded. “Alright. Sounds like a plan. Okay team, lets wrap it up here and get something to eat. Think we’ve earned it.” He then turned to Katie, gesturing with his head for her to follow him out of the room.

He led her down a few more corridors and to a flight of steps which led up to the upper deck of the large airship.

“The Accommodation is probably a bit smaller than you’re used to, but…”

“If it’s that bad imma find a hotel.” She shrugged as she followed Coulson down the corridor.

“What and miss all the fun?” Phil looked over his shoulder. “I’ve had the gin bar stocked specially.”

“Yeah, for the record that isn’t going to take away from the fact that I’m utterly pissed at you and Fury”

“I know you well enough Nova to not even hope that would be the case” Coulson snorted as they turned right. Eventually they reached the living area and Coulson led her to one of the spare rooms.

It wasn’t as bad as Coulson made it out to be, a bed that was slightly bigger than a single but not a full double, with a small wardrobe and a small basin to the side.

“This isn’t so bad.” She turned to Phil who was watching her a little cautiously.

“Glad it meets your approval.” He nodded, leaning in the door way before he took a deep breath. “Look, I really am sorry about all of this. I wouldn’t have-“

“Let’s just find that thing and then I can go home.” Katie cut him off, not in the mood for anymore apologies or explanations. She had a job to do, and the sooner she did it, the sooner she could get back.

“That’s the plan.” Coulson nodded. “I’ll be in the bar in an hour or so, got a few things to sort out before but, well, it would be nice if we could catch up.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Katie replied. There was a pause before Coulson gave her another curt nod.

“I’ll leave you to it.”

With that he turned and left and Katie’s eyes fixed on the now empty doorway. With a purposeful stride, she moved forward and pressed her palm to the pad at the side, the door sliding shut with a slight click.

Katie turned around, looking at her bag which had been placed at the foot of her bed and with a loud, angry groan of frustration she flopped backwards onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

***** Chapter 9

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #Katie Stark #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans characters

94 notes · View notes

eclecticmiasma · 4 years

Text

Loveless (Yandere!Giorno x Reader)

🌠Commissioned Fic!🌠

SFW

“We finally have the life we always dreamed of...yet you scorn me at every turn.”

[Warnings: general yandere scariness, captivity]

Art credit: 荒巻ミカ on Pixiv

Another gilded trinket lays scattered across the floor. Thick silence hangs in the air like an asphyxiant, snuffing out all words before they even leave your throat. Your eyes pierce his own, defiant, enraged to be in this position once again. By now, he should have accepted that this will always be the outcome of his attempts to purchase your love and affection. But the nearly imperceptible signs of hurt that tug at his features tell you that he hasn’t.

All you had wanted was to speak with him. After months of swimming in deep depression, isolated and terrified, you finally worked up the courage to appeal to the kind young boy you know is walled deep inside of your captor. Everything about his appearance has changed, but the love and passion in his liquid blue eyes is the same. You were there when he first set foot in Italy, after all.

Not as Don Giorno Giovanna, but as Haruno.

When he saw you in the doorway of his study, he lit up like you hadn’t seen in years. He had dreamed of the day you would come to him of your own accord. He promptly ushered his guards from the fire-lit room and took your trembling hand in his own. It really was Haruno, you thought, as he smiled that familiar sheepish grin. The realization put you at ease.

“I…wanted to see you,” You lied, swallowing your fear. The warmth that radiated from Giorno was nearly palpable. His lithe arms pulled you into a gentle embrace, and for the first time you felt him relax. He buried his nose in your hair and squeezed you tight- almost like he was afraid to let go. You couldn’t bring yourself to hold him back, “…t-to talk to you.”

When he pulled away, he looked you up and down. He was positively beaming with pride.

“Anything you want, tesora, it’s yours.”

You bit your lip as he led you to a plush sofa next to the fireplace. Its warmth grounded you to reality. Giorno asked if you wanted something to drink, but you knew you couldn’t stomach even an ounce of liquid. Even water made you nauseous as of late.

Minutes passed before you found your voice. Giorno simply watched the shadows of your features dance in the light of the flames. He looked so sweet in that moment, so genuinely happy. Part of you wondered if you’d misunderstood him, that maybe he truly hadn’t meant to hurt you. Without thinking, you squeezed his hand with real affection.

“You…sent me another gift,” You started, pulling a rose gold locket from your dress. It was inlaid with tiny diamonds that spelled your name, and undeniably beautiful- but the sight of it made bile rise in your throat. It was the final straw. Before Giorno could respond, you turned his hand and pressed it against his palm, “I came here to give it back.”

His expression faded like ashes scattered by the wind. His brows knitted together as he slowly put the pieces together. You weren’t there to finally return his affection, you weren’t there to proclaim yourself as his own- you came to change his heart. A feat no one had ever achieved. His head nodded and a small, resigned smile appeared. It was like he hadn’t even heard you.

“I know it isn’t much, but think of it as a token of my love,” He replied, looking past your exasperated stare and holding the locket up to your neck. Something inside of you snapped and you yanked the glittering necklace from his fingertips.

“This is not love!” You shrieked, throwing the jewelry with all of your might. It broke and speckled the marbled floor.

And now you’re here. Sitting in the wake of your combined decisions. Drowning in the air around you. The fire, once comforting, feels like it’s burning you alive. Tears streak your face as despair sets in. When the silence is finally broken, you hear the crack in Giorno’s voice.

“I don’t know what you want from me,�� He suddenly stands, stepping over the shards of jewelry to stand before the fireplace. His shadow looms over the entire study, “For years, I’ve done nothing but vie for your affection, but use everything within my power to protect you. We finally have the life we always dreamed of…Yet you scorn me at every turn.”

“The life we dreamed of?” Despite your trepidation, you find yourself moving to your feet, temper rising, “We used to dream of packing our little bags and building a giant tree house to live in, not this! You grew that tree in the alley behind my place that we would always sit in and pretend we were finally adults…that we were finally free-”

“We were children,” He interrupted, still refusing to face you, “We knew nothing.”

“Haruno knew that it’s wrong to take people as your prisoner. Haruno knew he didn’t want to follow in his parents’ footsteps,” Giorno finally whips around to face you, incredulous, but you continue your rant unabated, “Haruno hated people like you, Haruno would have understood that you abuse me and then buy my affection just like your father did to your mother. I refuse to be bought, Haruno-”

Blinding pain radiates up the left side of your face. It takes a second to register that you’ve been struck. Even Giorno stares at his open palm, shocked. You clutch your cheek and clench your teeth through fresh tears. He swallows hard, and his expression turns to stone.

“Haruno was a scared little boy that had no agency, beaten and broken into silence,” He takes a step forward, and you take a step back.

“Haruno didn’t understand that some people in this world are born evil, that nothing can ever fix them,” Your right leg catches the wooden coffee table and you tumble to the floor.

“Haruno had to grow up and learn that the only way you can protect that which you love is to hold on to it for dear life,” His voice raises to a fever pitch. Your arms rush to cover your face in anticipation of being struck once again.

But it never comes.

When the moment passes, you dare to peek through blurry eyes. The room around you is lush with greenery, an explosion of flowers and vines. A thick oak tree had grown where the sofa was, branches nearly reaching the ceiling. You lower your arms and gaze around the study in a mixture of wonder and fear. Giorno stands above your cowering form, back hunched, sobbing.

“Haruno is dead!” He shouts, collapsing at your feet. The tree breathes and stretches with life, puncturing holes in the roof above. Bits of dust and debris tumble down around you, but Giorno seems to not notice. You watch, entranced, as he cries.

“G-Giorno…” You mutter, afraid to reach out to him but resigned that you must. As much as he has hurt you, you just can’t bring yourself to run away.

Giorno remembers the last time he cried. Flashes of his own body impaled on the Colosseum gates, of blood dripping, of Narancia’s limp body as he lay it to rest on a bed of flowers- he remembers it well. It wrenches his heart, twists it so he can’t breathe. Nearly everyone who has ever been important to him has been ripped away by the cruelest of fates.

Except for you.

“I’m sorry,” He chokes, clutching himself tight. For some reason, fate has left you alone. Despite his immense love for you, your body continues to live and breathe just as he does. But you’ve made it abundantly clear that fate doesn’t have to intervene to remove you from his life. If something doesn’t change, he could lose you all the same, “I’m so sorry…”

You tentatively reach out and touch his shoulder. He shakes his head, but makes no move to stop you. Even as your other hand gently strokes his hair, fingertips gliding along his disheveled golden locks, you remain silent. As much as you want to comfort him, you won’t lie to him any longer. His apology remains unaccepted.

“If you’re sorry, if you truly love me like you say you do, you have to let me go…” Giorno’s tear-filled eyes meet yours. He looks terrified. A vision of Haruno weeping as you checked his face for bruises briefly replaces him. Your hands unconsciously slide to cup his reddened cheeks, just like back then, “I love you Giorno, I always have. But this has to be on my own terms. Don’t you see?”

The fear in his eyes dims slightly. His own hands cover yours. They’re larger than they used to be, and more calloused, but comforting all the same. He swallows hard and forces himself to smile softly.

“I understand,” He croaks, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. Relief flows through you as you release your breath. Perhaps Haruno truly is gone, and you’ll never reclaim the memories you have with him. But that doesn’t mean Giorno can’t change, that you can’t rebuild your relationship into something just as beautiful as you once had. For the first time in months, you feel a sliver of optimism.

As elation overtakes you, you throw your arms around Giorno, “I knew that I could reach you,” You smile into his neck, tears staining his shoulders. Hesitantly, he holds you back. The last time you touched him voluntarily was a distant memory. As his hand rubs circles into the small of your back, he can’t help but smile himself.

“I understand…” He assures you again, sighing against you. Some of the fauna that covers the room morphs back into furniture as his emotions settle. The burgeoning tree works its way back into a sofa. Giorno holds you tight against him, and for once you don’t mind. You hardly even notice the changes around you, content in your hope that one day Giorno will be himself again. You don’t even notice the thin vine that coils itself up your leg and around your waist.

Up your abdomen.

Over your ribs.

By the time you’re aware of it, it’s reducing your airflow by squeezing tight like a boa constrictor. Puzzled, you open your mouth to speak. Pink flower petals fall out from where your tongue once was. Giorno strokes your hair behind your ears, shushing the panicked noises that escape your throat.

“I understand.”

*all original work is my intellectual property. do not edit or re-upload.

#yandere #yandere!giorno #yandere!giorno x reader #giorno giovanna #yandere!giorno giovanna #sfw #fics #jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #part 5 #vento aureo #tw: yandere #tw: captivity #angst #vento aureo spoilers #jjba spoilers #tw: mentions of death #x reader

206 notes · View notes

violetarks · 3 years

Text

Just A Game: Shouldn't Couldn't Wouldn't

Anime: My Hero Academia

LEVEL DOWN | MENU | LEVEL UP

"Shinso, you don't want to watch with us?" Uraraka questioned, settling down in between Todoroki and Midoriya.

The man shook his head. "No. You guys are probably gonna' watch some boring rom-com." He joked, brushing a hand through his hair.

It's been two days since he last spoke to Y/N.

They were completely cut off from each other. No, they didn't delete their numbers off of their phones, but they weren't talking at all. It gave Y/N time to cool off and work on her song as well as stream sometimes. Shinso worked on streaming by himself and helping others with their videos.

"Y/N came out with a new song!" Uraraka giggled out in excitement, turning on YouTube on the TV, "Only the music video is out for now, but I heard all her friends helped to film it!"

Shinso visibly tensed up at her words. They hadn't mentioned anything about Y/N to him, just guessing that they were having some trouble. But it completely went out of Uraraka's head as soon as she read Y/N's Twitter post that said ''Shouldn't Couldn't Wouldn't' is out now on my YouTube channel!! Go check it out or else I'll send Bakugou after you 😡😡😡'.

Shinso sighed out, "I'm good. I need to make some lunch for us anyway."

They said their 'thank you's to Shinso as Iida told him to be careful in the kitchen. He stood in the kitchen for a while, mind going to Y/N. She looked so hurt when he admitted he lied. And maybe she would've felt better if he just poured out why he felt this way, to lie and such.

The chatter of Todoroki, Midoriya, Iida and Uraraka died down at the girl pressed 'play' on the TV.

Shinso stood behind them in the living room doorway. He didn't want to sit with his friends right now. He just wanted to be alone and watch the music video.

The music came out gently at first. The plucking of the strings on the electric guitar was simple. It sounded like the feeling of falling. The video started out on a blank screen, the words 'Shouldn't Couldn't Wouldn't' on the black background. Underneath showed the people's names.

Vocals: L/N Y/N, Kirishima Eijiro

Guitars: Kirishima Eijiro (lead), Kaminari Denki (back-up electric), Jirou Kyoka (bass)

Drums: Bakugou Katsuki

Cameras: Ashido Mina, Sero Hanta

And then the drum beat came in behind, slowly at first as the first verse came up.

"'By now I got your bad habits all memorized, like, when I know you need me most'," Y/N sung, hand on the microphone as she tugged the wire behind her, "'You go and shut me out, figures, you Gemini."

They decided not to film a big music video, just one in the studio. They got Mina and Sero to dl the camera work, and God, did they do a great job

"Wow, she can really sing!" Midoriya commented before Uraraka quieted him down. She was a huge fan of Y/N's.

"'And I'm not sayin' that I've got, all of the answers, but,'" She kept going, Mina's camera panning to Kaminari who was focusing on the guitar at the moment, "'Boy, I've been in love before'."

Jirou had sung in the harmonies, adding in the ones they agreed on. It sounded like honey.

He wondered who she was in love with before him, and if they did a better job. Y/N admitted that she wanted to be more than friends with Shinso, and he blew it. Maybe the other person who loved her treated her better.

"'It's not always peachy, look, life ain't that easy,'" Y/N kept going, tapping her foot in beat with Bakugou's soft drumbs, "'But one thing I know for sure is it—'"

"'Shouldn't,'" She sung lightly with Jirou behind her, looking up to the camera with a completely 'done' expression, "'Be this hard, you couldn't, DTR. Oh wouldn't, it be nice, if we could stay friends? But we shouldn't.'"

The camera caught how Kirishima and Bakugou glanced at each other before at Y/N. It wasn't very discrete in the shot of the whole band.

Shinso clenched the fabric of his sweater as he watched her. She was gorgeous, on and off camera.

"Y'know what? I couldn't." Y/N went on, one hand brushing the back of her neck whilst the other held onto the microphone, "'Nough's enough. If I had your heart, it wouldn't be this... hard."

She looked deep in thought and would've stayed that way if it wasn't for Kirishima's little riff on his guitar.

Shinso noticed how she looked to the ground, swallowing before looking back up to the camera with a small grin.

She began to walk around the studio, tugging the wire behind her. "You wonder why suddenly, I'm coming off indifferent." She chimes, shrugging her shoulders innocently, "'What you don't seem to understand is..."

She stood next to Jirou, who was smiling at her friend. She hadn't seen Y/N this passionate about a song in ages. Jirou didn't like the intention behind it, but she always loved seeing Y/N give her all.

"It's not anything you said, it's everything you didn't. Ooh," Y/N spoke, glaring at the camera as Jirou harmonised with her. It was obvious who she had in mind. She hoped he saw this.

Shinso definitely did, he was feeling his heart rate increase slowly as she spoke. She meant every word she said and Shinso had the front seat to who she meant it to.

"Yeah, you." She sung, waving a finger in the air, "You always answered with, more questions to questions that scare you."

Y/N stood in the middle of Kirishima and Kaminari, tilting her head down to the camera. She wore a face that said she was truly angered, but was hiding it behind her smile. But it fell for the next line.

"We're not always peachy, look, love ain't that easy." Y/N stated, Bakugou in the background of the shot twirling his drumsticks in between his fingers.

"But one thing I know—" Y/N struck her fist up into the air, as did Kaminari and Kirishima, "I know it for sure that it!"

"Shouldn't," Jirou came in as Y/N finished the climax of that line.

"Be this hard, you couldn't," Y/N went on after taking a deep breath, pulling the mic back to her lips, "DTR. Oh wouldn't, it be nice if we could stay friends? But we shouldn't!"

Kaminari had whistled in the background at her voice. Y/N sung this chorus with so much more heat and push, making it sound less soft and passive-agressive than the last. Making it now — just agressive.

But Kirishima and Bakugou focused on their instruments. They knew how much Shinso hurt her. Which is why they encouraged her to sing this song for the album, it would help her get all this hatred out of her system.

"Y'know what? I couldn't!" She called, hand in her hair as she went over to Kirishima. As Sero's camera followed her, she leaned her arm against Kirishima's shoulder. "'Nough's enough! If I had your heart, it wouldn't be this hard."

Bakugou's drumming was the main attraction in the music background for the third verse.

"I drank too much tonight to not try to call you up." Kirishima finally joined in, singing into the microphone that stood in front of him. He worked with Jirou to help get his voice to suit this song better. "I mean, that's what our phones are for."

"Even Kirishima? Damn, they're all talented." Todoroki commented, sipping from his glass as Uraraka shifted in her spot.

She squealed, "Oh my God! People are gonna' go crazy over this! A duet between Kirishima and Y/N!"

Shinso didn't like that. The idea of Kirishima and Y/N together right after they broke it off, as friends. He wanted a second chance to make things better.

Mina's camera showed Kaminari throwing up a fist to cheer on his best friend, Jirou smiling at Kirishima.

It made the red-haired boy grin through his singing. "Not one for titles, girl, in other words — terrified." He said, seeing Y/N lift herself off of him to whisper to Bakugou about something.

Shinso was terrified. He hated to admit it. Perhaps that was why he could lie. Because he was scared.

The next line made him blush red. "That pussy kicked my rules out the door."

Y/N only grinned at him.

Shinso felt his heart ache.

Kaminari wrote that sentence. He wrote all of Kirishima's lines. Which made Jirou and Y/N laugh in rehearsals.

Kirishima shook his head, Sero's camera now focusing on him. "I could take more shots or I could take you, off your blouse." Kirishima sung as Y/N came back to her spot, still watching him, "My favourite parts of fucking is either when I'm done or when you're walking out my house."

Again, Shinso grit his teeth as he listened to those lines.

But why? Y/N wasn't his.

Jirou had hit Kaminari for writing that line as he claimed it was too late to change it now.

As Y/N twirled the microphone wire in between her fingers, Kirishima closed his eyes and went on, "You don't pick up when I call unless I call you 'mine'. But one thing I know is it—"

"Shouldn't!" Y/N came in again, taking the last chorus again with Jirou. Kirishima went back to focusing on his guitar.

He tried calling her. She didn't pick up. Ever. Maybe because she was filming and editing, or because she didn't want to waste the time on him.

"Be this hard. You couldn't, DTR. Oh wouldn't, it be nice if we could stay friends? But we shouldn't..." She sung, tilting her head to the side with closed eyes.

Y/N held onto the microphone tightly as Jirou watched her intensely. "Y'know what? I couldn't! 'Nough's enough!" She sung loudly, mic pulled away a bit to prevent peaking, "If I had your heart, it wouldn't be this..."

She took a deep breath in before letting it out in the song. "Hard — ah, ah, ah—ah, ah, ah..." She sung in melody with Jirou, closing her eyes with knitted brows. She was about to burst. "Oh, woah, woah—Hard, ah, ah! Mm!"

When Y/N opened her eyes, she stared at the ground. The drumming was dropped and the only one playing was Kirishima, the lead guitarist for the song.

She sighed, "It's not always peachy, look, love ain't that easy. But one thing I know, for sure is we... shouldn't."

The music stopped and was replaced by Kaminari's cheers. They finished the take in one go. He set his guitar down and ran up to the girls, engulfing them in giant hugs as he complimented their voices.

Y/N giggled, hugging back with Jirou, who looked madly annoyed. Bakugou only came towards them at Y/N's whining, telling him to be a team player. He allowed her to wrap an arm around his neck, saying how good his drumming was.

The last to join the hug was Kirishima. He stood in front of Y/N, placing a hand on top of her head and ruffling her hair. She complained about it until he rested a kiss on her forehead.

That's where the video cut off.

Shinso squinted at the TV before overhearing Uraraka compliment how well they sang and how great they performed all together. She always loved their friendship group.

Iida said something about the camera work and how the transitions were smooth.

Midoriya liked how they seemed relaxed all the time during the recording.

Todoroki mentioned how it kind of hinted to Kirishima and Y/N being a couple.

Shinso walked back into the kitchen.

Fun Fact: Y/N and her best friends really only met through Kaminari spilling his tea over Y/N's shirt at the cafe they all coincidentally studied at. She had her music playing through her headphones, which is why Jirou had introduced herself since she liked the artist too. Kaminari and Mina cried over ruining a pretty outfit. Kirishima apologised for their behaviour. Bakugou hit the two for their actions. Mina invited Y/N to come to their table and pay for her food in return.

TAGS: @just-some-stars @freyafolkvangr @headfirst-halo @wotsitgirl @falling4fandoms @katsuki-bakuhoee @adorable-punk-superheroes @firecet @ouijaeater15 @swoonhui @thegalxe @caitff @camry-orphanaccount @angelofdarkness1020 @someweirdshitman @jazzylove

#shinso hitoshi #shinso #shinso hitoshi x reader #shinso x reader #shinso smau #shinso hitoshi smau #my hero academia #mha x reader #mha #mha smau #anime #anime x reader #anime smau

96 notes · View notes

lilydalexf · 3 years

Photo

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Chimerical

Chimerical’s stories aren’t at Gossamer, but you can now find them at AO3. If you have not read them, are you in for a treat! For instance, Regular People and Regular People Still are some of the X-Files fics I have read and re-read. You may also know Chimerical from her site Chimerical Publications, which was an extensive Mulder and David Duchovny fansite. Big thanks to Chimerical for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

I’m not surprised at all that X-Files fandom is still popular, it was an amazing, creative show with iconic characters. Aside from just being entertaining, like all good Sci-Fi it asked deep, profound questions about the nature of relationships and humanity. It’s these things that people remember more than the MOWs.

However, I’m surprised to hear that my stories are still read, mostly because there is always something new, someone has a new take, and of course, we have the more recent episodes which provides all new fodder for writers, which is wonderful. But it’s super nice to hear that stories from the classic show still mean something. Also, I wasn’t a prolific writer, there are only 12 stories, but perhaps they struck a chord and people like to revisit them the way you like to re-watch a favorite episode or movie.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

Fanfic is certainly not new, but The X-Files was absolutely at the right place, at the right time. The internet was just really taking off, and it enabled fans to connect instantly in ways that hadn’t before. I remember that Fox used to send out Cease & Desist letters in an ill-considered attempt to stem fanfic because the Suits just didn’t understand what it was. Nowadays, of course, they embrace much of it, encourage it, even. Supernatural wrote whole episodes about it. But in the early days they were really stupid about it.

But what I took away from it was that great community can exist with people you have never met in person. There is a great sharing of ideas and love of great characters.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

It’s true, no Facebook, twitter, tiktok – it seems strange!

But I connected to fandom though the old Usenet message boards, you couldn’t wait until the episode was over until you could leap on and start discussing the episode. And it was painful if you were on the west coast as I was because you would get spoiled. In truth, it wasn’t must different than Twitter, just without the character limitation. But it was rather the wild, wild, west, no moderators and no terms of service. It could be a free-for-all, and some of the disagreements were legendary! For writing, certainly ATXC was the big dog for fic, and of course alt.tv.x-files for discussion. There were many different Yahoo Groups and AOL mailing lists, that catered to interests in fanfic (Friendship/Adult/Slash) or to the characters and/or actors.

But frankly, the main thing I remember was what a complete PITA it was to just get anything posted. There were all these size limitations and ASCII issues that don’t exist today, you had font and formatting limitations, which cause people to get weirdly creative with italics, bolding, quotes and so on. And you had to break your story up in weird way simply to jam it into the email because there were size limitations. And it never failed that no matter how many Beta Reads you had, you didn’t see that last damn typo until AFTER you hit the send button. There was no edit button, all you could do resend the whole damn thing. It was the fanfic version of the 20 mile walk to school through the snow……Kids today have it so easy! LOL….

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

Actors are, and always will be, the face of the show. David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson are amazing actors, and the nuance they brought each week was a wonder.

But one of the things that the X-Files also did was make people aware of the people behind the scenes, the showrunners, the writers, the directors. This was also something new. For most TV dramas, most people couldn’t tell you who wrote an episode if you had a gun to their head.

But people knew the writers like Vince Gilligan, James Wong, Darin Morgan, and of course Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz. And they knew the directors, Rob, Chris and the late great, Kim Manners.. It was like a repertory company. You could count on Morgan & Wong for the creepy, you could count of Vince Gilligan for the humor and relationship stuff, you could count on Darin Morgan for the “what the hell was that, but I loved it.”

So I guess what I took away was a deep appreciation for the craft, for the work. This carried over to other fandoms. I’m more aware of the creative team beyond the actors.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

Believe it not, I didn’t watch at the beginning. I’ve always been a Sci-Fi fan but for some reason this wasn’t on my radar. I came in about the middle of Season 1. I was channel surfing and stopped the X-Files, it was the episode “Ice.” I won’t lie, I stopped because I saw David Duchovny in a henley and I’m never one to pass by an attractive man. But as I watched, I became intrigued by these two characters, and their conflicted relationship with each other, even though I didn’t really know what was really going on. But I had to know more. That’s good writing, where you can walk in half-way through an episode and be captured.

I immediately checked out the old AOL Service forums and found a group. Of course, back then, there was no streaming, there was no BitTorrent. So, you just had to wait until when and if the network decided to show a repeat, which meant you were screwed if you were trying to catch up. But someone on one of the boards offered to send me VHS tapes of the episodes of missed. That’s fandom as its best - I’m excited about this and I want to share it with you. So in about a week I was caught up and hooked. I had to see how these two people’s story turned out.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I’ve always written as a hobby, taken many writing classes, have always written short stories, worked on a novel or two. I’ve got friends who are writers by profession. But the closest I ever came to doing it professionally was co-writing a play that ran for a month off Broadway many years ago, so I’m a dabbler, at best. I’m a big reader, and good stories always make me think, “well, what if this happened….”

So, X-Files wasn’t my first fanfic rodeo. I had been involved in Quantum Leap fandom and Beauty and the Beast, some Star Trek. Once I good hooked on the show, I immediately began searching out fanfic. But it took me a long time before I wrote anything. I’m not sure why, perhaps I was waiting to see where the story went. But X-Files was different in that it blended one of my favorite genres with a truly compelling relationship story. And I don’t just mean romance, it was a melding of two entirely different ways of looking at the world that was captivating. Scully was so strong and Mulder so complex, how could you not love them.

So, I enjoy writing, I learn from it. I learn from the feedback, both good and bad. I’ve never understood fanfic writers who say “just sent me nice feedback.” No one loves criticism, and not all criticism is valid. But you learn from it. I’ve had people tell me they hadn’t looked at an episode from that point of view and they like it - and I’ve had people tell me that I didn’t know what I was doing, everyone knew that Scully would never cuss (to which I say, please, she grew up on military bases!) But it helps you improve.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

It was a period of my life I cherish because I met some friends who are still my friends to this day, all these years later because we found other things in common besides a show. It was great to share ideas and debate storylines. And it was a fun, creative, and exciting time. Each episode was must-see and then talking to my friends about it later was the best part.

I started to drift away when David Duchovny left the show. I thought then, and still think, they should have called it a day because the beating heart of that show was Mulder and Scully together. You can’t rip out half the heart and expect the patient to live. On an intellectual level, I got why Duchovny left, I got why Anderson stayed and I got that Fox was a fledging network back then and XF was a cash cow. But on an emotional level, it all turned upside down, especially when the much-promised “search for Mulder” never really happened.

Fans got angry. They were angry at David for leaving, they were angry at Gillian for staying, and they were angry at poor Robert Patrick, perfectly decent person, for merely existing. It got ugly and I got up caught up in that. Frankly, I was as much to blame as anyone in carrying on stupid arguments about crap that didn’t matter. And one day I just realized I’d let all the joy be sucked away, and this just wasn’t who I wanted to be, or how I wanted to spend my time. So, I took a break, I still watched the show as it limped on, but I disconnected from the fandom part of it. And by the time I’d had my break, the show was done!

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

I’m always a fan. There are many shows I’ve followed and liked, Supernatural, Fringe, Walking Dead, but I don’t get involved in the internet drama. So, I don’t get as invested.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

I assume you mean besides Mulder and Scully! In literature, My favorite writer is John Steinbeck and every character he created was indelible and singular. East of Eden is my favorite book and the characters of Adam & Caleb Trask, as well as Cathy Ames are so well drawn. Of Mice and Men, Cannery Row, they’re all perfect. Another favorite book and character is Alexandre’s Demas, The Count of Monte Cristo. The arc that Edmond Dantès’ life take is quite Mulder-esque. And of course, Harry Potter, I’m a sucker for a character fighting against overwhelming odds.

On TV, Sam Beckett from Quantum Leap. That was an amazingly well-crafted series, also featuring a female show runner, Deborah Pratt. I love the character of Raymond Reddington on The Blacklist, there is something about a completely unapologetic bad guy. I would have once said Dean and Sam Winchester, but sadly that turned into a case of staying too long at the fair and I stopped watching a couple seasons ago - But the early seasons rocked. Literally every single character in M*A*S*H was golden, and they knew when to call it quits. Thomas Magnum from the original Magnum PI. (People my age will still remember the “Did you see the Sun Rise, Ivan” episode!)

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

Oddly enough, a few weeks before you reached out to me, I watched the X-Files movie again. I remembered the incredible excitement when it came out. Fox did this tour across the county; it was like a mini-con. But I remember they had the trailer on a loop and my friends and I sat through it so many times we could recite the entire thing by heart. TV shows, such as Star Trek, had made the leap to movie, but I don’t believe a TV show had ever made the leap to films while the show was still on TV. But damn, it was good.

I watched the two recent XF mini-series. They did much to revive the old feeling, especially the episodes by Darin Morgan, who is a national treasure. And it was wonderful to see David, Gillian and Mitch. I’m sorry there won’t be more.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I haven’t in quite a while. Mostly because real life has interfered (work, personal stuff, Covid) over this last year and I have trouble concentrating. But I would certainly return to it, you need the escape of a good story.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

Oh yes! But they were all from the time I was writing. Lydia Bower, DashaK, BlueSwirl, XFBandit, Paula Graves, Taverl, Prufrock’s Love, and dozens of other are still on my PC.

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Like children, they each have their virtues but some may be harder to love than others. While I love a good smutty MSR, I was also a big fan of conflict resolution. So, I’m going to cheat and split the baby here. Based on feedback, I’d have to day my most popular story was Regular People and its sequel. And I really enjoyed writing that. It’s simple, it’s sweet, it’s what I hope for Mulder and Scully. The chance to just BE, if only for a while.

I wanted to try a slash story, so Wind River. That story was inspired by the murder of Matthew Shepard. I have dear friends in the gay community and I was so angry that this could happen in this country, so that one was about the need to treat people compassionately and who better to do that than Mulder and Scully.

But in truth, my own favorite is one that didn’t get much attention, called Rock Bottom. I wanted to explore that the fact Mulder and Scully, were, on occasion, just truly awful to each other and yet still reason to come back together.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I have a couple unfinished stories. There’s one from Quantum Leap, I want to finish first and when that’s done, I would like to finish the two X-Files that are half-baked.

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I do legal writing as a profession now, so I write all day long, but analyzing a case or a legal matter is not the same creatively and I do miss that, so I see returning someday, you need to feed your soul.

Where do you get ideas for stories?

Well that’s all over the place, much like my mind! Often I was inspired by something I thought was unaddressed in the episodes. That’s where the Just One series came from. Or it’s a Rosencrantz and Guildenstern kind of thing -- That is, what’s happening off screen while the main action is going on. I find that intriguing, and that’s where Risking Everything came from. The incident in By Coincidence actually happened to a friend of a friend and I thought it would make good fodder. Pentimento came to me following a lecture I attended at a gallery, what happens when you peel back the layers you thought were true. You never know what’s going to connect.

What's the story behind your pen name?

“Chimerical” means existing as the product of unchecked imagination, given to unrealistic flights of fantasy- which seemed right for a fiction writer, especially for XF. In the early days, it became the phonetic “KiMeriKal” when I was on the old AOL service simply because Chimerical wasn’t available as a screen name! But I’m finally [email protected]!

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

Yes, my friends are aware, some of them have been my betas over the years. My brother knows I write, but I don’t think he’s ever read anything because he would find the smut elements uncomfortable coming from his little sister!

Is there a place online (Tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

The most recent versions of my stories are at AO3. If I ever get around to anything new it will be posted there as well.

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

Thanks for reading, thanks for remembering me, and it was a great time in my life. Fandoms are great communities as long as we can always remember there’s a human being at the other end of the keyboard. Be kind, be compassionate, and never stop imagining the possibilities.

(Posted by Lilydale on February 23, 2021)

#old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #chimerical

34 notes · View notes

antihero-writings · 3 years

Text

The Boy with the Unspeakable Name (Ch11)

Fandom: Harry Potter (and the Chamber or Secrets)

Fic Summary: Tom Riddle may have won his battle with Harry in the Chamber of Secrets, but there were a few unforeseen consequences; loss of Tom’s memory being the most obnoxious of them. Is it possible to stop Tom’s past from becoming his future? Or is the young Tom Riddle doomed to repeat his mistakes?

Notes: Alright everyone I'M BACK ...And I'm so so SO sorry that I took so long to update. Over the past few months I took my first real break from posting fanfiction overall in a long time.

Before I posted this chapter, I actually ended up heavily editing some of the previous chapters, which I'd like to inform those who read the originals about first. (Currently only the Ao3 version, and the reblog version of this fic with the picture on top are up-to-date.)

* I made Tom overall more polite. I was of the belief that his politeness was not an innate trait, and without memory, he would be a bit more unpleasant, and then we could see him grow with time. I do still believe it's not an innate personality trait, but a couple things made me realize he really should act differently in my fic. * I made Snape treat Tom better in the interrogation chapter. Both at the beginning and end. I liked the ending with the Levicorpus spell, and I do kinda miss it, especially because it informed Harry's reactions, but I think it was just too mean, especially because of something I'm going for later. * I added a conversation with the other boy in the hospital wing. (By the way, if you go back to read that and can think of more things they should talk about, don't hesitate to let me know!)

...I think those are all the big things! Feel free to offer feedback on the changes if you read them!

I'm so sorry to everyone who was hoping for faster updates. I truly do appreciate your comments and support deeply, and hope that you will continue to read and still enjoy it. I would still love to hear what you think!! <3 <3

Chapter 11: The House of Books

“The summer? With you? And Harry Potter?”

Tom had been examining the objects Snape had brought him—objects which had apparently once belonged to him—and blinked, raising his head to look at him.

“Believe me, I am not thrilled about it either.”

“No, it’s not that—well, it is—it’s just…” He paused, running his fingers along the clothes laid out on the bed before him, then squinted up at Snape. “I’m trying to discern why this is a good idea.”

Snape looked away, seemingly wondering that himself.

“I think, with time, you’ll find that our headmaster has a very unique sense of what is good for others. He believes uncomfortable situations often serve for people’s betterment.” He looked off to the side and muttered, “Whether or not they agree.”

“What sort of ‘betterment’ does this serve?”

“I suppose he would like the three of us to…”—He exhaled—“get along.”

Tom raised an eyebrow a second time, as if to say Us? Really?

“Futile though it may be,” Snape added.

Tom bit his lip, internally assessing the situation as he also returned to assessing the objects.

It wasn’t ideal—that didn’t need stating. Tom had a difficult time fathoming why Dumbledore—who seemed to bear him no ill-will—would want him to live with one person who had a rather insurmountable grudge against him, and another who didn’t seem to like him much better. He wanted them to ‘get along?’ `Surely that couldn’t be it. There had to be more to it.

Was Dumbledore really so naive as to think they’d grow closer instead of hate each other more? Not that he quite understood why they hated each other in the first place.

“Is there a reason I can’t stay here over the summer? I wouldn’t mind.”

Clearly Snape would have preferred that as well.

“You no doubt heard at the Feast that there has been some question as to whether Hogwarts is entirely safe. The Board of Governors likely wouldn’t approve of a student staying over the summer until they are able to deny these suspicions. Also, the headmaster wants you to learn magic over the summer, and due to few teachers possessing a proclivity to stay at Hogwarts during this time, we must make other arrangements.”

Tom’s breath bated at the reveal that he’d be learning magic, his mind beginning to buzz. He tried not to let his excitement leak into his voice:

“You’ll be teaching me magic?”

“Do keep up.”

“So…” He sat back. “What’s Harry going to do?”

“Mister Potter will be…taking up space as usual, I presume.”

Tom stifled a laugh; he hadn’t been expecting such a response from a professor.

“You don’t like Harry, do you?”

“I’m not…particularly fond of him.”

“Is it too forward of me to say it doesn’t appear you’re particularly fond of me either?”

“I pains me to say you’ll have adequate time to learn there aren’t a great many things I feel an extensive amount of fondness for.”

Tom could already see it now.

“Consider it a trial period, of sorts.” Snape swept around the room as he altered the direction of conversation. “If you are able to succeed over the summer, you may continue your schooling at Hogwarts when the next year begins. How much you learn, and how quickly, will determine the year in which you are placed. That is, if you’re placed in any year at all.” He looked down his hooked nose at him like that was both the most likely option, and the most preferable.

Tom could tell hidden behind his words was the idea that this ‘trial period’ was about more than just how adept he was at magic. He’d didn’t need telling that he’d have to be careful in more ways than magical.

“Do you have any other business to attend to before we leave?”

“Wait, we’re leaving now?”

“I don’t come to the hospital wing for pleasant chats if that’s what you’re asking.”

Tom bit his lip. In all honesty he would have liked to stay and explore the school more, but he could tell Snape wasn’t the kind of person one could negotiate such things with.

He turned back to the items that were supposed to be his.

“Is this really all I have?” He asked softly.

Sure all the essentials were there: clothes, books, toiletries and the like, but nothing more personal. No pictures for his nightstand, or even a keepsake to remind him of home, of family. Nothing that could tell him a little more about himself.

Snape paused a moment before he replied: “All of which I’m aware.”

Tom didn’t say anything. Merely put everything back in the trunk and followed Snape to the door.

“Don’t you have anything to bring home with you?” Tom asked.

“Don’t you think a skilled wizard such as myself would have methods of sending it to its proper location?”

They spent the walk across the grounds in silence, which could probably be considered steely, though Tom didn’t mind. The grounds around Hogwarts, and what little he saw of the castle, were altogether beautiful, and empty conversation would only have dulled his enjoyment. He turned around, walking backwards, a smile creeping upon his face upon at the sight of the castle in its full glory. He came to find this wasn’t a school, this was a palace, a haven.

A—

The word home rose to the surface of his chest.

It occurred to him this was the first time he’d smiled since he lost his memory. Really and truly smiled.

The feeling wasn’t half bad.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “You like it?”

Tom cleared his throat. “It’s nice I guess.” But he couldn’t stuff the smile down, couldn’t quite figure out what this feeling was.

He must be a student, surely. Otherwise, why would he feel such fondness for the place?

He didn’t think Snape would reply, and was surprised to hear, barely audible, “I always thought as much.”

They arrived at a wrought iron gate with winged boars on either side—(really living up to the name, Tom supposed. All they needed was a decent amount of warts on them). Once they had passed through it, Snape stopped abruptly and held out his arm. It seemed he was expecting Tom to take it.

Tom wasn’t quite sure why he ought to do this, (and was rather offput by the thought of touching this man). Still, he did as he was told and—

He felt like he was being pigeonholed through a pipe. When the journey ended he was in an entirely new location, and wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t feel sick.

"Apparating for the first time can often make one feel unwell,” Snape informed the doubled-over Tom in a way that didn’t signify he really cared.

As Tom regained his bearings, he thought for a moment, in the same way he quite liked the walk along the grounds, he probably would have rather enjoyed traveling across the countryside. It struck him, that, while this sort of travel certainly got the job done, if wizards had a type of travel more like flying; allowing one to see the view, but also get where they needed to go quickly, he would like to learn it.

The new location, however, was far drearier and less pleasing to the eyes. Rather than an enchanting (and probably enchanted) forest, bordering sunny grounds, and a castle whose majesty was unmatched (at least in his current memory), this was a grimy, cobbled street, like a dull pencil: grey, disappointing, and without its sharpness.

He was almost certain the place was non-magical in nature. He couldn’t believe anyone magical would allow their cities to collect this much grime and…boringness. Identical brick townhouses lined those streets, their chimneys spewing smoke into the air, causing a low cloud of what could be either smog or fog to hang over the place, making the air warmer and more humid than necessary. Snape’s house was the last in the row, (at least, he assumed it was Snape’s as it was the one they were heading towards), and across from it he could see a black river winding through the mist.

Snape flicked his wand, unlocking what was presumably his front door.

Often houses have a certain, indefinable smell to them, but when Tom stepped inside this one, he found it wasn’t so indefinable: parchment, and old shoes, and maybe a little bit of neglect.

He could have fooled himself into thinking he’d walked into a bookstore. The walls were lined with books, the sofa and armchair in the corner creating a false sense of coziness—(‘false’ because nothing about this man said ‘cozy’). It had the air of being one of those spaces that is cluttered, but to call it anything but ‘neat’ would be an insult. Like a library of a devout scholar: cluttered with knowledge, yet, despite the fact that the shelves are puking pages, it all seems somehow perfectly in place.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Snape said in a tone that told him he didn’t want him to be comfortable at all. “Take care not to touch anything that isn’t yours.”

Tom’s eyes lidded. “So…don’t touch anything at all?”

“You’re catching on.” Snape smirked.

Tom rolled his eyes, not entirely sure Snape was joking.

“I’ll show you to your room.”

The words ‘your room’ were clipped, like the thought that it would belong to him for even a summer was repulsive. Though Tom could tell that before they arrived.

He opened a small door in the wall, which Tom would have thought another room, or perhaps a closet, but turned out to be a set of stairs.

After journeying up them, a hallway whose wood was in dire need of staining, dusty portraits whose stern eyes followed him as he walked by, and a decorative table with an empty vase upon it, greeted him.

The advertised room was small, and a bit stuffy, and a few of the floorboards creaked, but something told him he’d slept in worse conditions before.

Though it was a small house, they were able to keep to themselves. Snape was busy resettling into his house, and disinclined to give him a tour, and Tom, not having much to get settled in the first place, spent the time exploring his new surroundings.

He wandered around the library that was the downstairs, and the dingy hallways that were the upstairs. He took care not to enter what he assumed to be Snape’s room, as well as a few other locked rooms. He didn’t want to get on his bad side…if he even had a good side.

He quickly found he didn’t mind being around books. He had affinity for them, especially when their contents had to do with magic.

“Are these all about magic?” He asked Snape when he passed by.

“Some of them. It may surprise you to find most of them aren’t.”

“May I read them?” He asked, remembering Snape’s warning not to touch anything, as well as the fact that this was a ‘trial period.’

“If you cannot find ways to entertain yourself.”

“I’m sure I can. But you seem like the kind of man who appreciates silence.” He put his hands behind his back and smiled too pleasantly.

Snape pursed his lip.

They spent their time regarding each other as wolves encroaching on each others territories: they weren’t happy to be sharing the same space, but they couldn’t do anything but growl low until one of them made a move.

Later, when Snape made dinner, the action drew his attention from his book. Tom watched with fascination as Snape waved his wand with ease, and the ingredients floated and melded together of their own accord, like Snape’s wand knew what to say to them.

“Will I be able to do that?”

“A whole world of magic and you want to be able to make dinner?”

“Well—” Annoyance flared in Tom. “Of course I’d prefer to know much more exciting, dangerous things…but yes”

“Children are not allowed to use magic outside of school until they come of age…but, yes.”

The word ‘children’ in that condescending tone didn’t make him feel less annoyed.

“How come I’m able to do it, then? You’re able to teach me during the summer.”

“Dumbledore has his ways.”

Tom could tell he wouldn’t get any more information than that.

While they ate, Tom chanced a few more questions, and was surprised to find that it tasted quite good, and he thought he remembered someone once telling him good food does wonders for the soul.

He was glad to find that, despite Snape’s obvious distaste for him, and seemingly all things his age, he was cordial enough, and he certainly didn’t mind keeping to himself.

Tom was just thinking about asking when he’d start learning magic that evening, when a stack of books almost as tall as him landed on the table.

Flicking his eyes across the titles, he saw that each and every one of them something to do with magic.

“I expect you to have these read before before Potter arrives. Only then will I start teaching you magic.”

Tom leaned to the side to look at Snape and tried not to smirk.

“You sure this is everything? It doesn’t seem like quite enough.”

#harry potter #tom riddle #Severus snape #Harry Potter fanfiction #the boy with the unspeakable name #hp #hp fanfiction #hp fic #hp fanfic

6 notes · View notes