#ill be sitting minding my own business and my brain will go dream on like shut the fuck upppppppp
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been extra miserable about them this past week
#WHYYYYYY WHY CANT THEY BE HAPPY#mxtx can we talk....lets discuss mxtx listen to me#and its just . banging my head into a wall their whole thing is they never be happy in any life . ever again#because they Die . and thats it poof out of the reincarnation cycle#FUCK YOUUUUU BFLF RUINING MY LIFE#canon im beating you with a stick like a feral animal#ill be sitting minding my own business and my brain will go dream on like shut the fuck upppppppp#bawling my eyes out rn#this is so awful i hate u bflf i hope youre both miserable#no i dont sorry please be happy#ok . ok deep breaths#art tag#tgcf#shi qingxuan#he xuan#beefleaf
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Interlude: Recollection
25th of Ninthmoon 1012 AG, Medina
It was little over a month into living with Ismene in Medina when Russ fell ill with a terrible cough and a raging fever. There had been an illness going around town, not too uncommon as the weather became colder. Ismene had been busy creating treatments for coughs and minor fevers but no one had gotten sick as seriously as Russ. Every inch of his body ached and he shivered despite Ismene’s assertion that he was burning up. It was the first time Russ was sure he remembered something about his past.
As he drifted in and out of consciousness, Russ remembered that he had been sick like this before… and so had someone close to him. Maybe a sister or a brother… He couldn’t recall who exactly. He also couldn’t remember what his mother looked like but he knew she had been there for him. For all of them. Nursing them back to health and humming a soothing tune the whole time.
Ismene’s bedside manner was definitely not as tender. She firmly told him to get over the bitter taste of the medicine if he wanted to “feel less shitty” as she put it. Still, she rarely left his side as the fever raged for the next few days, bringing him tea to soothe his throat and keeping a cold, wet cloth on his forehead. It was these things that made Russ remember.
When he felt well enough to get up and sit at the table to eat, Ismene told him that he had mumbled a lot in his strange language although she couldn’t pronounce anything he said with certainty.
“I think I was dreaming about my family a lot,” Russ confessed. He went on to admit that he couldn’t remember his mother’s face but he remembered that he had been sick like this before when he was younger and that his mother had been by his side, humming a song and doing what she could to help him fight the fever.
“That’s the first time I’ve heard of a fever jogging a memory rather than frying a brain,” Ismene smirked as she dished up some oatmeal for Russ. “Do you remember anything else?”
Russ thought for a moment before saying he believed that he had siblings… maybe a sister and brother but how many and their names and faces escaped him. All he could remember for now was what he had already told her, even if it was a faint afterimage of a memory.
“Well, I guess it’s something,” Ismene said with a shrug. “Even if it’s not enough to figure out where you’re from, I’m glad something came back to you.”
Russ nodded. The memory seemed distant, but it was his. He quietly hoped that more would come to him and he would get some answers.
~o~O~o~
When he wasn’t sick, Russ helped Ismene around her workshop and garden. When Ismene had no work to be done, Russ would hang out with Nabal. Nabal was grateful to have someone who didn’t mind his stutter and Russ was glad to have a friend around his age. It helped him not dwell on the fact that he still had no answers regarding his origins or his family’s fate.
It was during this time that Ismene decided to take Russ on as an unofficial apprentice. He was young, yes but she told him she had started to learn the trade at his age. She also noted he was learning anyway by helping her out.
Russ did his best to learn under her tutelage. Ismene told him that eventually she’d teach him to make medicines out of the plants and other ingredients but for now, he just needed to learn how to take care of the plants and how to properly forage for other materials. Russ excelled at botany and herbalism under Ismene’s instructions, taking to the skills with ease.
There was one thing Ismene couldn’t seem to teach Russ and that was magic. Ismene tried off and on for a couple of weeks to teach Russ some magic in hopes of figuring out what his own magic was, but eventually she conceded he needed a better tutor than her. She turned to another citizen of Medina, Zoradysis, who was a Kotengu like Belinay, for help. Ismene described her as a local historian and ‘complete nerd about magic and their god, Lavos’.
Upon meeting Zoradysis, Russ immediately noticed how she was much more reserved than Belinay, rather bookish befitting her occupation. While she spoke highly of Oz’s family and passionately about the history of Mystics, she was much calmer in her demeanor than the boisterous and chatty Belinay.
In her attempts to teach Russ magic, Zoradysis was able to determine a few things about him. Firstly, he did have magic as one would expect; he had an affinity to light and sky magic, rare amongst Mystics these days. He also seemed to have a severe phobia regarding fire larger than a candlelight so fire magic was out of the question.
Between attempted lessons in magic, Zoradysis educated Russ on Mystic history, reminding him of the origins of the army under the Elder’s ancestor and the events of the war four hundred years ago. She spoke of the great General Slash and others, names that Russ felt he should know but wasn’t sure he had heard before.
“Why didn’t we win the war if we have magic and the humans don’t?” asked Russ.
“We were winning, at first…” Zoradysis answered as she looked for a book to show Russ. “The war went on for decades and the Demon King’s army gained a lot of territory for Mystics to claim. However, things changed when a human by the name of Cyrus Ashfall became Guardia’s Knight-Captain. Most human generals under King Guardia allowed Mystics to flee any losing battles and left unarmed villages alone. Not ‘The Butcher’ as Cyrus became known as. He razed many small villages and left no survivors when in battle.”
“His brutal efforts to eradicate our kind caused a stalemate for several years,” she continued. “Guardia held onto the Zenan continents while the Demon King held onto the Choras continent and Alastori.”
Russ listened as Zoradysis continued to tell him about the war and how, slowly, the Mystics began to lose it. In written accounts from General Slash, the Demon King had found a means to summon the mighty god, Lavos, to destroy humanity. Zoradysis clarified that it was a misconception that the Demon King had ‘created’ Lavos. What he had done was that he had tried to summon Lavos to this world, creating a physical form for the god to eradicate the humans with.
When asked by Russ why that had not come to pass, Zoradysis flatly stated that the Demon King was betrayed by his Mage-General, Flea, according to written accounts by General Slash and that humans, namely a man called Glenn Stormward, infiltrated the heart of the keep and assassinated the Demon King.
Between these history lessons, Zoradysis tried to teach Russ magic. However, the best Russ could manage after a few months of instruction was a light spell and even then, he could barely manage that. Every time he tried, all Russ could summon was the smallest motes of light and they would go out within seconds. Russ could offer no explanation beyond feeling a sudden sense of panic every time he tried to use magic. He couldn’t think of why he was so afraid of what should come naturally to a Mystic.
Zoradysis speculated that Russ must have had a bad experience with his own magic to be afraid to use it and tried to reassure him that, spells or not, he was just as Mystic as anyone else in Medina. Others, especially Nabal and Ismene also shared the same sentiment. Those reassuring words helped Russ feel less ashamed of his shortcomings regarding magic.
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Miss American Pie
Chapter Two: The Perfect Partner Project
Warning!: This series features a romantic Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader pairing. Please keep scrolling if that’s not for you. 💜
Summary: After you’re freed from Dreykov’s control you team up with Yelena and Natasha to take down the red room.
Chapter One : Chemical Subjugation
“I thought you had a jet?” Yelena cocks her head to the side, as you approach the decrepit helicopter.
“I asked for one.” Natasha mutters, under her breath.
“This isn’t a jet.” You add, the closer you get, the worse it becomes.
“I realize that!” The man who’d been standing with his back to you whips around to defend himself. This must be Natasha’s friend. “But you know what you didn’t give me? Time. Or money. I’m not made of jets.”
“Aww, he’s sensitive.” Yelena coos, “I see why you keep him around.”
“I’m not sensitive.” He protests.
“Of course not,” you smirk.
“Listen you-“ he breaks off. “Who are you again?”
“Y/N Y/L/N,” Yelena introduces you, climbing aboard. “She’s my partner….” She shrugs, “you name it really.”
“Partner works.” You chuckle, joining her in the cockpit.
“If you say so,” Yelena waves a dismissive hand. Getting a feel for the controls.
“Wonderful,” the man acknowledges your title.
“Thanks for the ride, Dick.” You salute him through the front window.
“It’s Rick,” he calls back.
“I know.” You give him a thumbs up. Waiting until he turns back to his conversation with Natasha. Taking the opportunity to lean down, kissing the top of Yelena’s head.
She cranes her head back to see you.
You nuzzle your nose against hers, until an exaggeration throat clearing tears you apart.
“We don’t have time for this.” Natasha, of course.
Yelena scowls at her, “yeah, yeah.”
Breaking Alexei out of a maximum security prison using only an earpiece, stowed inside of an action figure is a terrible plan. Nearly as bad as using him for information on how to locate a facility that’s impossible to find, run by a man who’s too slippery to kill.
That doesn’t stop you though. Generally speaking it’s going well. Until one of Yelena’s shots triggers an avalanche.
“Woah.” She marvels at the scene before you, her masterpiece. “Now this would be a cool way to die.”
“Yeah,” you holler back, sarcastically, over the chaos.
“You were getting no where with your tiny guns.” Yelena points out.
“Slow and steady wins the race,” you remind her.
“Fast is better. Solves problems.”
“And clearly creates new ones.” You jerk your chin toward the mountain.
“Get us out of here!” Natasha’s voice blares through the headset.
“I’m on it.” Yelena assures her. Moving into a better position for extraction. “Watch the side window.”
At her request you shuffle to the main ship. The prison guards are still putting up a fight. Inmates running in every direction.
“Alright, Natasha’s with us.” You confirm, once she’s secured her place on the black hanging rope. “Circle between the walls on your left to grab Alexei.”
“Yeah, no problem.” Yelena snarks, steering the plane away from another explosion.
“You’re doing a great job.”
“Don’t lie to me!”
“Fine,” you huff. “The spot is tight and the angle is bad. I don’t know how you’re gonna pull this off.”
Yelena is silent, processing the information. “Lie to me a little.” She amends.
“You got this.” The blinding wall of white threatens to swallow Alexei whole. You’re holding your breath too as the rope moves past the metal bridge he’s standing on.
“Well?” She yelps, impatiently.
“I don’t know. I can’t see.” Once the snow and ice clears, you spot two figures carefully scaling the rope. “Yelena?”
“Hmm.” She hums, expecting the worst.
“I knew you had it.”
“Yes,” Yelena sighs, before falling into easy laughter. More invested in this than she will ever admit.
————————————————————-
Unfortunately, entertaining as Alexei may be, he has next to no information about Dreykov.
Instead he drawls on and on about how the man wronged him. Stuck him on that “boring mission” in Ohio. Then tossed him in jail and threw away the key because of…hair? A party?
You weren’t entirely sure. You excuse yourself to the vacant seat beside Yelena. Giving her thigh a reassuring squeeze.
Full lips twitch up into a grin.
“Tell us where the red room is.” Natasha grumbles.
“I have no idea!” He shouts, and then in Russian. “Why don’t you ask Melina?”
“Mom Melina?” Yelena whips her head around.
“We thought she was dead.”
“You cannot kill a fox that swift,” Alexei sucks in a breath.
You choke on your own saliva.
“Ew.” Natasha winces.
“What?” The man shrugs. “She was the master mind. His architect.”
“Are you telling me that Melina works for the red room present day?” Natasha leans closer.
“Yes,” he nods. “Remotely, outside Saint Petersburg.”
“I don’t think we have enough fuel for Saint Petersburg.” Yelena decides, after checking the needle on the gauge.
“We’ll make it.” Alexei waves away her concern.
“Ok,” Yelena mutters.
You look over at her.
“We’re not going to make it.” She mouths, with a shake of her head.
You smirk, closing your eyes and relaxing into the seat. It’ll be nice while it lasts.
Before long you’re falling into a controlled crash, at the Saint Petersburg city limit.
“So,” Yelena jumps out onto the dirt. “Are we there yet?”
“No, you will know when we are there.” Alexei begins snorting like a pig.
——————————————————————-
You take a seat in the chair opposite Yelena inside Melina’s humble abode. Her pigs can be heard carrying on out in the yard and Alexei’s early snorting makes perfect sense now.
Your eyes dart around the three women at the table uncomfortably as noises continue erupting from the bathroom. “Everything alright in there?” You bellow, loud enough for your voice to carry down the hallway.
Another groan is the only response.
“Let’s drink,” Melina’s voice breaks the tension. She fills each of your shot glasses in turn.
“Thanks,” you raise the clear liquid and toss it back. Feeling it burn it’s way down your throat before going back for another.
After a moment a clunking from the doorway calls your attention.
“It still fits.” Alexei announces, having stuffed himself into his old costume.
Melina whistles, with a slow clasp as he approaches the seat at the head of the table. “I never washed it once. Come eat.”
He hums a tune under his breath, reliving days gone by. “Look at us, family back together again.” If you didn’t know better you’d think it was sweet, he seems…happy.
“Well,” Melina swallows, dishing mashed potatoes onto his plate. “Seeing as our family construct was just a calculated ruse that only lasted three years, I’m not sure we can use this term anymore.”
“Agreed,” Natasha perks up. “So here’s what’s going to happen-“
“Reunion then.” Alexei offers instead. “I want to say something right off the bat.” He says to the woman who’d once been his wife. “You haven’t aged a day. Just as beautiful and supple as the day they staged our marriage.”
Melina moves closer, “you got fat, but still good.”
“I just got out of prison,” he confesses, “I have a lot of energy.”
“Ooohooo.” The older woman exhales.
You can’t help the bubble of laughter that forces its way from your chest. Covering your mouth with your hand as Yelena takes another shot.
“Please don’t do that.” Beside you Natasha looks physically ill as she protests. Swallowing down her disgust she begins again. “So listen. Here’s what’s going to happen.”
“Natasha don’t slouch. You’re going to get a back hunch.” Melina flicks her fork in Natasha’s direction.
“What? I’m not slouching? I don’t slouch.”
“Eh, listen to your mother. Up! Up!” Alexei joins in.
“I told you, I don’t want any food.” Yelena pushes her plate away.
“Eat a little something Yelena, for God’s sake.” Melina says, piling food onto her plate.
Yelena groans.
“Are you kidding me? Stop it all of you. This is ridiculous.” Natasha bites out.
“Me? I didn’t do anything. That’s not fair!” Yelena argues.
“It’s true, she’s just sitting there.” You shrug.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Natasha roars, effectively silencing the room. “You’re going to give us the location of the red room.”
Melina purses her lips, avoiding the topic. “It’s like when you told them they could stay up to catch Santa Claus.”
“That was fun!” Alexei recalls. “Look out girls, he comes down the chimney. And when the cookies are gone you know he is there.”
Melina clicks her tongue.
“What? I want them to follow their dreams, shoot for the stars girls.”
“No good.” Melina disagreed.
“Killing Dreykov isn’t a fantasy. It’s unfinished business.” Natasha looks between the two of them.
“You cannot defeat someone who commands the very will of others.” Melina says, softly. “You never got to see the culmination of what we started in America. After the perfect partner project was rejected, we took a different route.”
“The perfect partner project?” You repeat, racking your brain. You’ve heard that somewhere before.
“Why’d Dreykov scrap the project?” Natasha’s voice cracks like a whip.
“I don’t know.” Melina’s eyes dart down to her plate.
You can see that she’s lying.
“That’s when we turned our focus to chemical subjugation.” Melina continues, “the control is so profound that when the subject is instructed to stop breathing. They have no choice but to obey.”
Yelena shakes her head. Perfect lips turned into a frown. Hazel eyes glistening with tears as they meet your own.
“That’s enough.” You warn the older woman, seeing the expression. The last thing you want to do is cause her anymore pain.
“No.” The blonde insists. “Tell me more about the partner project.”
“Yelena, we don’t have to do this.” You shake your head.
“Yes, we do.” Yelena slams her fist against the table in frustration.
“The extraction was messy to start. A high profile missing children’s case in North America. But the bond was very strong. Enhanced through targeted conditioning and subliminal messages. Until something happened that Dreykov did not anticipate.”
“What happened?” Natasha wonders.
“The girls became…attached.” Melina’s mouth twitches, “so they were separated.”
“Do you know who they tested on?”
Melina’s guilty eyes land on you. “I am sorry.”
“No,” you suspected, maybe. Somewhere in the back of your mind. You spent the first six months in the red room under solitary confinement. Rapidly and rigorously conditioned in a matter of weeks instead of years. Preparing you…for her. The teenager girl you couldn’t stand, the woman you eventually came to love.
“You,” Yelena laughs, although it’s not particularly funny. “Us.”
“Yelena-“ you reach for her hand across the table.
“Don’t,” she snaps. “Don’t tell me that it will be ok. They stole your life because of me. I never asked them to do that. I never asked for you!”
“I know.” You assure her. None of this was ever her fault.
“That’s right, because you know everything. Don’t you, Y/N?” Yelena scoffs, her hands balling into fists on either side of her dinner plate. “You know what I think. You know what I feel. Look at you. Ready to come out of your own skin because I am unhappy. Prepared to move mountains, prepared to start wars.”
“Like you’re any better.” You challenge, she knows you like the back of her hand.
“That is my point!”
“I’m sorry that this happened.” Alexei interrupts. Surely gearing up for a ‘father of the year’ speech. “But we are here now. All together! Wasn’t that worth a few years of-“
“Shut up!” Natasha growls at him. “You are an idiot.”
No response.
She moves her attention to Melina, “and you’re a coward. You’re a coward. And our family was never real. So there’s nothing to hold on to. We’re moving on.”
“Never family, huh?” Alexei throws up his hands. “In my heart I am simple man. For a couple deep undercover Russian agents I think we did pretty great as parents.”
“Yes,” Melina nods her agreement. “We had our orders and we played our roles to perfection.”
“Who cares? That wasn’t real.”
“What?” Yelena’s voice breaks.
“That wasn’t real.” Natasha repeats for emphasis. “Who cares?”
“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that. It was real. It was real to me. You are my mother!” Yelena all but sobs. “You are my real mother, the closest thing I ever had to one. The best parts of my life were fake.” She pauses, drawing in a steadying breath. “And none of you told me.”
You swipe at the tear that escapes your eye. Traitorously running it’s way down your cheek. It was never fake. Perhaps arranged, but never fake. The way you want to wrap her up in your arms, protect her from her own sadness. The way your heart breaks in time with hers. That is real. It has to be.
She turns back to the woman who she considered a mother. “Those agents that you chemically subjugated around the globe…that was me too.”
Finally she addresses Natasha, “and you. You got out. It is impossible to escape. Are you going to say anything?” A pause. “No.”
She pushes her chair from the table, taking the bottle with her as she stands. Turning her back in the four of you.
“Yelena.” Natasha calls after her. Guilt eating away from the inside out.
“No.” Yelena dismisses her a second time. Moving into the next room and closing the glass doors behind her.
You look down at the plate of food in front of you, now lacking any appeal.
“I had no idea.” Melina whispers, wringing her hands.
“I’ll go to talk to her.” Alexei offers, rising to his feet.
“About what?” You hum, “how you handed her over to a life of pain and suffering at the age of six? How you experimented on her? How you didn’t come back for her? Yeah. I’m sure that’s just what she needs right now.”
With that you excuse yourself, back out to the front yard. Slowly circling the perimeter of Melina’s cottage. Not looking for anything in particular. Just killing time until someone produces information about how to get to Dreykov.
The blinding light that appears moments later catches you off guard. A team of men exit one of the three circling planes. Since you couldn’t find the red room, this is the next best thing.
—————————————————————
Waking up is disorienting, coming to from a tranquilizer always is. It’s bright, almost blindingly so. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. You attempt to use your hands to cover them, only you can’t move your hands.
Leaning up as much as your restraints will allow you discover that you’re strapped to an operating table. And you’re not alone.
“Yelena?”
“Miss American Pie,” she drawls from a similar position. Neither of which gives you much chance to escape whatever fate awaits.
“You’re not allowed to die mad at me,” you grumble.
“I’m not mad at you.” She blinks slowly, as the surgeon marks a clean line at the perimeter of her hairline. “I’m just mad.”
“Yeah,” you let out a laugh, turning back to the light above the gurney. “Me too.”
“You are my perfect partner.” She murmurs, while gloved hands busy themselves with preparations. “I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”
There’s a beat of silence between you. Acceptance…peace. “I love you, you know.”
At this Yelena smiles. A genuine, happy, smile. “I know.”
Something to remember her by.
The syringe at your neck releases a sedative into your blood and you fall asleep. One last time.
—————————————————————
Dying is peaceful, gently rocking in the ocean. Then swaying more violently, giving you the urge to be seasick. Your body should move with the force of it. But something holds you steady, something warm.
“Yelena?” You croak.
“Not quite, but there is resemblance, huh?” A different voice greets you.
“Alexei?” You realize, pushing yourself into a sitting position.
“That’s a girl, up you go.” He says, clapping a hand against your back.
“What happened?” You ask, “where’s Yelena?”
“Still inside,” Melina confirms. “Brought you here so you’d be safe.”
“Natasha?”
“They’re coming.”
You sigh, ready to jump out the open door of the hovering chopper.
“What are you doing?” Alexei demands.
“Going to find them.”
“Wait! Y/N, wait.” He pleads. “There’s something I must tell you. I tried to tell Yelena but I don’t have earpiece.”
“What?” Your brows furrow.
“Never mind that.” He shakes his head. “The point, is you were right. What you said about Yelena. We complete our mission, we move on. But losing her, losing my girls is my biggest regret.”
“I’ll tell her, don’t worry.” You give his shoulder a squeeze.
“Please let me finish.” He stops you again. “She carried your unconscious body through burning building, through explosions. This is not easy, you are very heavy.”
“Oh, Alexei!” Melina scolds him.
“Not that.” He amends, “you know what I mean. It is dead weight.”
You nod, “sure.”
“I look at you together and I see true love and I am happy. You are family now, and this time…we are going to stay together. We’re not leaving without you.” The older man says, helping you onto the metal grate of the falling red room.
Not a second later an explosion rings through your ears, sending Melina, Alexei and your get away vehicle spiraling to the ground.
“It’s the thought that counts,” you’ll make a new plan.
You run toward the flames and gunfire. “Yelena!” You call out, searching the surrounding area.
“Y/N,” Natasha finds you. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t find Yelena.”
“I thought she was with you.” The woman frowns.
“Well she wasn’t!” You bite out, fear and frustration getting the best of you.
“Don’t worry, we’ll find her. You go-“ the red head pauses. Her eyes focused on something behind your head.
You turn to follow Natasha’s gaze. Finding her. Yelena. The wild, unpredictable, firecracker of a woman. On the wing of the jet with Dreykov inside.
“Yelena! Stop!” You rush over, realizing what she’s about to do. Her staff poised at the propeller.
She pauses at the sound of your voice.
“He’s not worth it.” No one is worth it. Not when she is the cost.
Yelena smiles, eyes alight with mischief, “I love you, you know.”
“I know.”
Natasha tries to reason with her. “Don’t do it!”
“This was fun.” Yelena tells her sister, jamming the propeller and effectively destroying Dreykov’s jet. The force of the explosions sends her backwards, hurtling towards the ground with the remaining pieces of the red room.
“Put your pack on and jump.” Natasha tells you. Rushing for the nearest parachute. “I’m going to save my sister.” She dives head first over the edge, without putting on her harness.
“Not if I get there first,” you challenge. This would be a cool way to die.
Chapter Three: Bye Bye
#marvel fanfiction#yelena belova#black widow fanfiction#black widow#yelena belova x reader#yelena belova x female reader#yelena belova fanfiction#natasha romanoff#yelena belova imagine#yelena belova x you#yelena belova x y/n
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Subtitles: Episode 4, We Interrupt This Program
Subtitles Masterlist
Summary: [Y/N] is still recovering from one of the worst migraines they’ve ever had and they have the scars to prove it… Wait. Those scars weren’t there before and they certainly weren’t from passing out on the sidewalk a few days prior!
Word count: 9,361
Warnings: Mentions of (not super graphic) death and mental illness. Also Reader being just a little horny on main, but what’s new; almost 9.5k words and they’re simping for most of them. Lots of dorky fluff and also talking about insecurities.
Tag list: @madamevirgo @ravennight41 @multifandomgirl16 @cyanide-mustard @badasspolygenderfriend
~~~
In the black void of otherwise dreamless sleep, voices were conversing.
“[Y/N] [L/N]…” one started.
[Y/N] [L/N]. Age twenty-five. Born to Killian and Alice [L/N] in [city, state] but Dad wasn’t in the picture. No siblings, no living relatives. They wanted to go to school for botany but Mom was diagnosed with early-onset dementia while they were still in high school, so they changed their career path to neurology in hopes of finding a way to help her. She still lives in their hometown.
“Oh, wait,” another voice chimed in, almost indistinguishable from the first, “I know this one. Oh, God.”
[Y/N] was an Honors student, at the top of all their classes. A degree in neurology with phytotoxicology on the side. They took an internship in Europe one year and somehow found themselves in Sokovia. HYDRA was still laying low at the time, caught wind of them.
“Wait,” a third voice, this one easier to differentiate from the other two. “They’re HYDRA?”
The second voice responded, “Former.”
[Y/N] had no idea what they were getting into. HYDRA, always good at hiding in the shadows; they brought [Y/N] in under the guise of an assistant job studying new forms of neural regeneration. A job that paid well enough to live comfortably and even send a little extra home, while developing something that just might solve all their mother’s problems? It was a dream come true.
Fortunately for HYDRA but unfortunately for [Y/N], they were very good at their job too. They helped HYDRA develop all kinds of nasty stuff. Nanobots that changed brain chemistry, near foolproof brainwashing tech— They even helped develop special toxins, one of the world’s deadliest poisons. All the while, thinking they were doing something good.
“How is that possible?” the original voice asked. “How could they have been so oblivious?”
“One-track mind?” the second voice offered, “Plus misinformation on HYDRA’s part and ‘routine health checks’ with something a little extra mixed in.”
“They were tested on?”
“A victim of almost everything they’d helped create, except the fatal stuff and anything that would disrupt business as usual. IVs and shots full of toxins, nanobots being released into their room while they slept.”
The third asked, “What changed?”
“Wanda.”
[Y/N] stumbled upon Wanda and her brother by pure accident. They’d been late that day and in their hurry, ran through a wrong door to where HYDRA was keeping Sokovian volunteers for testing. The twins were the youngest in their group, [Y/N] was only a couple of years older and the youngest in their division. It was a match made in heaven, really.
“Try hell,” the first voice suggested with a scoff.
The other voices offered their murmured agreements.
“So they knew each other,” the third voice said, “Before.”
That’s when [Y/N] started pulling at threads and HYDRA’s costume began to unravel; their one-track mind had switched gears. There was something too weird about the whole thing, these Sokovian civilians had stories that didn’t line up with [Y/N]’s own.
“And they believed them?”
They believed Wanda. She and her brother were just two more Sokovian citizens suffering at the hands of war and wanting to help their people. They had no reason to lie. They had more reason to be honest to [Y/N] than HYDRA ever did, actually. It was just a bonus that for Wanda and [Y/N], being around each other was like being a moth drawn to a flame.
[Y/N] may have been naive but they were far from stupid. When they figured out what was going on, they wriggled their way deeper into HYDRA’s ranks under their own disguise of loyalty. They became a full-fledged HYDRA agent, tasked with assisting in neural and poisonous weaponry. They weren’t able to protect Pietro and Wanda from testing, obviously—not that Wanda would have let them; she and her brother still believed they were being tested on for the greater good—but they did their best to stay nearby and keep the Maximoffs’ sanity intact for as long as they could. They even managed to save a couple of the other test victims by injecting them with temporary poisons that lowered their heart rate to the point of appearing dead. When the bodies were dropped off, the poison wore off not long after and some of the victims were able to escape. No side effects to be seen.
“I have a question,” Original voice said abruptly. “Why do we know this much information on one person? Like, this is some in-depth, intimate stuff. Why do we know that [Y/N] and Wanda had the hots for each other since day one?”
Second voice answered, “We’ve done extensive research on [Y/N]. The result of an investigation on the person who caused the apprehension of an entire faction of HYDRA after successfully poisoning them.”
The tests that were done on [Y/N] were not without their outcomes. They gained the ability to transform almost any matter into almost any other form.
“Huh,” Third voice hummed, “That reminds me of a series of disappearances a few years back. One house was replaced by rose bushes and another—get this—burned down because the roof had been turned to lava. Whoever it was, they either stopped on their own or died. What were they called?”
“The Alchemist,” Second stated simply, much to Third’s dismay. “And those were incognito HYDRA agents.”
After Pietro died and Wanda disappeared—not really disappeared, just left with the Avengers—[Y/N] had a choice to make. They were far too deep into HYDRA’s work now, the awful things that they had done were beginning to weigh on them, as Wanda and her brother had been just as grounding for [Y/N] as [Y/N] had been for her. After she was gone, they had a hard time dealing with the horrible business going on around them. So they did what they knew how to do; they mixed up a combination of poison and nanobots.
[Y/N] had fully committed to perishing with the rest of their coworkers but apparently, the poison hadn’t been quite strong enough. They’d made a miscalculation in a time of poor mental state and woke up the next day to hear that not all of the HYDRA agents had died either. At least the survivors had been taken in for the time being but that just wasn’t enough for them; they’d had a right to be concerned too because HYDRA had a habit of getting themselves out of sticky situations. This case was no different.
[Y/N] most likely felt responsible for having a hand in HYDRA’s dirty work, for not doing more, and they must have felt even more responsible when they learned that HYDRA was a much bigger problem than they could have ever imagined.
First blurted, “Well, what happened next?”
Second answered, “They went after agents until they got caught, the only way they knew how.”
The second miscalculation that they’d ever made got them caught. The agent put a gun to [Y/N]’s head and pulled the trigger.
“So are they dead too?” First asked. The voice seemed to quiver.
The third voice hemmed and hawed a bit before saying, “They must have, with the way all this weirdness had been going. Oh my god, poor Wanda, not one dead partner but two—”
Second spoke over the other two voices’ rambling, forcing them to calm down and listen. “They didn’t die, though, they—”
The voices started cutting out like the dream was a TV program being interfered by a poor connection and static.
“—Found by—Barely alive—Hospital—Braindead—Westview—Find a doct—”
Suddenly gunshots sounded, one followed by several more, and the darkness cracked and shattered, revealing blinding light behind it. A silhouette walked silently through the wall of light; it was Geraldine—no, Monica—poised with a gun in the outfit she helped deliver Maximoff twins in. As she walked forward, crossing from a plane of burning white to one of void black, the image of her warped and distorted until it changed. Monica, looking much more modern, in a uniform that included a bulletproof vest and a lanyard with S.W.O.R.D. printed at the top, moving carefully towards a broken and bleeding body on the ground with another in a heap behind her. The image distorted and changed again, and the first body was sitting on their knees and looking up defiant defeat. The person they were looking at was no longer Monica but a bulky figure in a dark outfit with straps in the form of an H across their chest, the body that had been laying in a battered pile behind Monica just a moment earlier. The H-adorned assailant held a still-raised gun to the kneeling person’s forehead.
[Y/N] could only spit at their feet before another gunshot sounded and the image disappeared to black.
You woke up sweating and choking on your breath. Your brain, throbbing with a pain that shot through it like a bullet, didn’t register fast enough that you were standing instead of laying down so when you flailed, you threw yourself off balance and fell forward. Catching a quick glimpse of your surroundings on your way down told you that you were somewhere outside and that it was the dead of night. You tried last minute to brace yourself for a concrete-laden impact.
You were instead greeted with soft fabric and arms wrapping tightly around you.
“Goodness, [Y/N], are you quite alright?”
You squinted at the striped sleepwear for a moment before looking up where Vision’s worried gaze and whirling irises were waiting for you; it took your eyes a moment to fully focus as the pain in your head faded but left a faint ringing behind. Then you looked around at your surroundings; not only were you outside but you were standing in Vision and Wanda’s driveway. Your gaze settled on a particular section of the house’s exterior where you vividly remembered a vaguely human shape exploding out of its walls.
You were standing in the exact same place you had been when it happened.
“[Y/N]?” Vision said again, drawing your attention back to him.
“Oh, cosmo, I’m sorry,” you said but your throat was too dry and you had to stop and clear your throat halfway through. Being in Vision’s arms, you were keenly aware of the fact that you were both in your bedwear and that yours had been sweated through. You slumped against him, partially to hide your embarrassed face but also because you felt like you hadn’t slept at all.
“Vis?”
“Yes, my favorite teacup?”
You snorted softly at that. “You don’t even drink tea.”
“Oh, I know,” Vision lilted back. Then he nuzzled his face into your hair. “I do like the patterns and the daintiness of them though.”
That time you laughed a bit. Feeling his warm breath against your scalp and his strong arms holding you safely in place against him, you almost instantly melted into the embrace. You wrapped your own arms around him and pressed your face into his chest. “What are we doing outside?”
“Ah, yes, about that. You appeared to be sleepwalking again.”
You groaned. “Again? This is a nightmare.”
One of Vision’s hands moved to run itself through your hair and down your neck. “That accident you had the other day certainly did a number on you.”
The accident. In other words, that time where you walked off in the middle of a conversation with Vision, Agnes, and Herb to mumble at a wall and then faceplant onto the sidewalk. Not only was your nose still recovering but your mind and dignity as well.
“The only time I’ve slept well since is when I fell asleep on your couch,” you whined. Then you lowered your voice and grumbled into Vision’s chest.
Vision chuckled. “What was that?”
You looked up at him and scowled. “The four of you are over here in your stupid, big, warm, cozy house. Meanwhile, I’m across the way, alone and uncomfortable, with only Bernard to keep me company. Bernard’s terrible company.”
“Truly,” Vision agreed, grinning slightly. He loved your strange, cute, not at all challenging struggles.
The both of you turned to give the lawn ornament in question a pointed look. Bernard seemed to glower back.
“Well,” Vision said as he pulled away from you a bit, “why don’t you come inside then? Wanda’s up with the babies anyway. You might as well join us, especially if it means you’ll be able to sleep better.” Not taking no for an answer, the synthezoid was already tugging you towards the lit-up porch.
You were too tired to argue and, quite frankly, you didn’t want to, so you allowed yourself to be pulled along as you admired the soft cotton of Vision’s matching pajama set.
“Oh, my.”
“What?” You looked at Vision’s face again only to catch him staring at a spot above your eyes. The porch light glinted off the gem embedded in his own. “What, do I have something on my face?”
“No,” Vision responded slowly, “but you must have done something to it. You have quite the scar.”
Your eyebrows raised. You moved away from him to look at your reflection in one of the windows and surely enough, you had a raised scar on your forehead, near your hairline. You gingerly pressed your fingers against it; it certainly wasn’t new.
A seemingly random thought popped into your head. Is that… a scar from a bullet?
“What on earth did you do to yourself?” Vision asked. Him walking up to stand directly behind you and press his hands to your neck, under the collar of your shirt no less, was more than a little distracting. “You’ve got one back here too.”
You reached back to where Vision was touching and when he removed his fingers, you could feel a similar scar at the base of your neck.
You thought again, Bullet… exit wound…?
Something about the dream you were having earlier called out to you but you couldn’t remember anything about it. When you tried to think about it further, the excruciating pain came back in waves and you had to steady yourself on the windowsill to prevent yourself from collapsing.
“Huh,” you said instead, “I have no idea.”
“They don’t hurt?” Vision questioned. “They’re not just… odd raised bruises perhaps? Welts maybe?”
“No, I don’t think so. They don’t hurt at all, though.” To make a point, you pressed down hard on the raised scar on your forehead, watched the skin turn a few shades lighter before releasing the pressure and dropping your hand again. Under the thick, stiff tissue, you barely felt the pressure at all.
Vision thoughtfully hummed, placing his hands back on the curves of your neck; you prayed to whatever deities existed that you didn’t make any sounds you’d regret.
“Well,” your partner said, “I suppose that’s better than nothing.”
A pause. Your eyes stayed trained on the window’s reflection, specifically where you could see Vision’s fingers gently cupping your neck.
Then he abruptly leaned down and pressed a kiss on the scar tissue, missing a pulse point by a hair. “We should head inside then.”
You had to take a solid minute to recover from the shockwave of tingles that briefly made your veins turn into lightning. Then you shuffled after Vision into the ever so inviting house.
Stepping out of chilly darkness and into a home of cozy furniture and warm light that turned the entire place a golden brown felt like walking into another world. An extra added layer of comfort to the usually perfect home was the slight disarray of baby equipment almost everywhere that wasn’t the floor itself, most of which you had gone out and bought during the babies’ day of birth and all of which Vision and Wanda appreciated; somehow, you had prepared for the babies’ accelerated growing on a panicked whim better than the Maximoffs. Tiny baby blankets and stuffed animals were strewn about and each visible part of the house—the living room, the dining area, and the kitchen, although the kitchen was partially blocked off by a drying rack of baby clothes and swaddles of various patterns and sizes—had a designated Baby Tray. These trays, perched on whatever flat surface had been previously free of decor or clutter, held bottles, nonperishable treats, diaper-changing equipment, teething toys, a mini first aid kit for each, and other useful trinkets; the new parents had apparently completely forgotten that almost all their house’s rooms were openly attached to each other and that, if one singular Baby Tray was designated to the dining area, it would take the same amount of about five steps to get to it from either the living area or the kitchen. It was almost comedic, the number of baby care items that were laying anywhere but the floor or in proper storage because, according to Vision, god forbid something gets a speck of dust on it and have to be washed or, according to Wanda, one of the babies be without their favorite toys easily accessible at every given moment. The only thing allowed to touch the ground, aside from feet, was a playpen that now replaced the usual coffee table in the living room area and a play mat in the babies’ room with its attached toys for the twins to play with. A final touch to the hominess was the soft light that you could see streaming out of the baby room’s open door, and the gentle voice of Wanda, singing a Sokovian lullaby, fluttering out of it.
It felt like coming home.
Vision stepped away from your side to clean up somewhat, picking up a few toys and folding baby blankets and onesies to move them aside in case you wanted to make yourself comfortable on the couch. Standing inside now, you could much better make out Vision’s dark blue terry robe over a pair of bright yellow pajama pants that no doubt had a shirt to match hidden beneath dark blue fabric. The yellow of his pants matched the yellow gem that was embedded in his forehead, glittering with an unused power that you had yet to experience and that felt warm whenever you went to place a kiss on it. Poking out from the hems of his robe and pants were perfectly human hands and feet, despite their deep red color that matched the rest of his body; you found the continued presence of fingernails when not in his human disguise—absolutely unnecessary to his design, he’d pointed out when you initially asked about them—weirdly cute and continuously felt the urge to grab nail polish and paint them to match either the color of the gem or the same silver as the plating that started at his scalp and trailed down beneath the collar of his shirt. You briefly wondered how far that plating traveled across his body before mentally kicking yourself.
The greatest thing about this still-fresh reveal of Vision’s inhuman identity—aside from the fact that he was no longer hiding something important from you, obviously—was that you now knew that he wasn’t just difficult to make blush but rather he quite literally couldn’t blush. You wondered what else he could and couldn’t do, only to mentally kick yourself again.
I can’t tell if I’ve gotten worse or better since I’ve started dating them, you thought.
Oh, your brain responded on its own accord, so much worse.
Shhh!
Vision was still puttering why while you stared and inwardly argued with yourself. At this point, he’d cleaned up most of the chaos and moved the stuffed animals and now-folded blankies to sit neatly on the dining area table.
“Vis,” you said.
Before you could continue, the man perked up and looked in your direction. “Yes, duck?”
You blinked. “You make my heart go rainbow-colored. Anyway—” You broke off into a laugh when Vision went flustered, his hands flapping about while he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. “Did I win this round?”
Sometimes Vision got into the habit of ending all of his sentences around you and Wanda with a pet name. When you had first noticed this feat, you’d decided to start doing the same, just to see what would happen. He noticed and began purposely doing it back, where he had previously done it unintentionally, and now doing the occasional back-and-forth conversation that ended in pet names more than punctuation was somewhat of a competition between you two.
Vision scoffed at you, picked up a plushie, and tossed it at you. “Not fair!”
Being in the house that was beginning to feel more like home than your own, around your partners and their sweet baby boys, seemed to shield and reenergize you from the exhaustion you felt after first waking up that night. You caught the stuffed animal, a plushie of a wizard, grinned and tossed it back at him.
“Oh,” Vision chirped, catching the plush wizard again, “I see how it is.” He puffed out his chest and gave you a warning, albeit amused, glare, then picked up a couple more plushes. In a lower, sort of growling voice that made your heart leap out of your chest and into your stomach, he continued, “If it’s a war you want, it’s a war you shall get.”
You yelped as he started in your direction and dived across the front of the couch to get some stuffed animal ammo of your own. He nailed you in the foot with a cream-colored bunny and you returned the favor with a plushie of a witch in a red dress after taking cover behind the playpen. Now each of you was standing where the other had previously been, with you poking your head over the playpen’s sheer wall and Vision slowly pacing around the back of the couch for his second lap. You pulled the playpen with you with one hand as you moved away from him and the two of you began circling each other.
Oh, if Wanda could see her partners now.
“Oh, Wanda—” you started to stand, only to get smacked in the face with a blue teddy bear; luckily, it was of the very soft variety. You stared at Vision in disbelief.
Vision stared back, eyes bulging, unsure of whether he should apologize or prepare for an attack. He was too torn to do either, though, and had to scramble back to avoid an onslaught of stuffed bullets flying his way.
Still aware that it was very late at night, your war-cry was softened, “Revenge!”
Then your attack quickly diminished, partially because you were running out of ammo and Vision wasn’t throwing anything back and partially because Vision was now floating off the ground and heading towards you, arms full of said ammo.
Wow, didn’t know it did that, you thought randomly, eyes fixed Vision floating in general, before specifically fixating on the devilish grin he wore while doing so. He looked like a very handsome, well, vision.
A handsome Vision, if you will, your brain offered. You almost snorted before remembering you had not yet moved to avoid Vision’s floating plushie attack. You stumbled backward and scrambled out of the living room just as Vision started throwing.
“No no no no no nonononono—” You were choking between laughter and squawking as you got up and began running down the hallway to save yourself. “Not fair, not fair not fair, not fair—!”
You ran past the baby room and caught Wanda mid-turnaround, saying, “What on earth is going on out there?” You reeled back to pause in the doorway, caught a glimpse of the babies in their one large crib, smiled, went to pant out an answer—
Only to feel arms wrap around you and drag you back down the hallway. You started to shriek, then forced it into a startled laugh as to not disturb the babies, and flailed around in Vision’s arms as he lifted you off the ground. It was brief, though, because then your struggling caught Vision off balance and the two you tumbled to the ground. There, you both harmlessly pummeled each other until you both were out of breath and snickering, and you somehow ended up with his top half under you but his legs pinning down your own.
“You can fly?” you bubbled. You grabbed his face and squished his cheeks in your hands. “What the hell?”
He laughed and nodded, and one of his hands caught your own. He glanced up at you as he kissed your palm and replied, “Yes, just a little.”
“Just a little—”
“And his wife can move things with her mind, like the crib she just finished rocking to put the boys back to sleep, and if she has to do it again because of her partners’ roughhousing…”
You and Vision quickly disentangled yourselves from each other and looked up at Wanda, whose face said serious but whose eyes twinkled with amusement and who looked no less terrifying in a pale pink, puff-sleeved nightgown.
You got up and straightened your clothes, with Vision following closely behind. “I will very happily take over the next shift because I started it and I’m very sorry.”
“What? Nonsense, [Y/N], I threw the first stuffed animal.”
“I threw it back,” you pointed out.
“Neither of you better have thrown and hit something,” Wanda warned.
You glanced at Vision for confirmation; you didn’t exactly see much when you were chucking plushies aplenty and then running from your flying boyfriend.
Vision nodded. “Nothing at all, although I did make the evaluation that we do have a plethora of plushies and baby blankets.”
“I thought I was the one who pointed that out when you first gave me the shopping list, but okay,” you huffed under your breath, then grinned with Vision lightly bumped you with his hip. “So, the babies having a bad night?”
“Actually, they were apparently worried about you,” Wanda said.
That made your head do a confused tilt. “Me?”
“Ah, yes,” Vision nodded, “We fell asleep with them in the living room and Billy started crying. We woke up to figure out what was wrong and Wanda saw you standing outside.”
Wanda added, “Tommy started crying shortly after I walked to the door with him like he wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Aww,” you cooed, peering over Wanda’s shoulder to see the babies. She stepped to the side so you could walk in and shuffle over to the crib, and she and Vision stood nearby as you crouched down to brush a hand over their little sleeping heads. You continued, much softer this time, “Were the boys trying to make sure I was safe? Are they my little protectors? My little superheroes?”
Tommy gurgled happily in his sleep. Billy remained quiet but his head leaned into your hand.
You looked up at their parents with big, awestruck eyes to see them leaning comfortably into each other, watching you with the same level of affection you felt for them and their babies.
“Heroes indeed,” Vision said. He walked over as you stood up again and lightly rocked the crib; Wanda strolled over to join the group. He continued to the twins in baby-talk, “But no hero-ing until after college, my little honeydews. For now, leave the protecting to your parents.”
“Especially this one,” Wanda chirped, making her way over to your side and slipping her arm around your back. “They’re a handful.”
You faked a gasp, “I’m a treasure.”
“You’re a putz,” Wanda said simply, with a smirk and a light pinch to your hip.
You gasped harder and stared at her with utter betrayal.
“A goof,” Vision chimed in. He slipped his own arm around you, the final piece of your three-person puzzle.
You gasped harder still— and almost choked on air. Then you looked to the babies. “Bullies! Bullies, both of them! Billy, Tommy, you must protect me!”
Very enthusiastically, neither baby did anything.
“I’ve been betrayed yet again,” you cried, not too loudly, though. You slumped against Vision and Wanda’s waiting arms. “Betrayed by my own brood!”
“Your brood?” Wanda questioned, quirking a brow. Vision was giggling softly at your other side.
“Yes,” you whispered, looking at her with wide, distraught eyes, “My brood. My pack. My murder.”
“Your what?” Vision said.
“It’s a group of crows,” you explained under your breath, before slumping down farther and continuing your distraught monologue. “I’m all alone! Oh, the horror—”
“Well,” Wanda said, “We’re supporting you very well a family that has completely abandoned you.”
You flopped your head back in her direction. You were so far to the ground now that you were practically on your knees, only your arms and shoulders being held by Wanda and Vision. You traced fingers lamely across each of their arms. “So strong, those who once held me…”
The married couple exchanged an amused but mysterious look.
“Wanda, darling,” Vision said, “They seem to have gone delusional.”
Wanda nodded sagely in response. “Clearly lost their mind.”
You squinted, glancing between them. What were they up to?
“To the ward with you,” Wanda suddenly announced.
Then you caught a red glow by your feet, but not fast enough before you were swept up into the air on a cloud of red mist. You burst into startled laughter but quickly slapped a hand over your mouth so you didn’t wake up the children. Once you relaxed—enough to stop laughing anyway, not enough to not be freaking out about being magically escorted out of the nursery—you waved your hands through the red; it felt like waving your hands through the open air. The only thing actually felt was the pressure on the back of your body that was holding you afloat and carrying you out of the room, but when you tried to balance on it and move to a different position, all you did was squirm and twist awkwardly in the air before flopping back down. You craned your neck, mostly to make sure Tommy and Billy hadn’t woken up from your outburst, but you only caught Wanda, hands glowing red, following you out of the room and Vision trailing after wishing his babies a goodnight.
You looked back at the ceiling for a moment. After you heard the nursery door shut, you asked at a normal volume, “I’m not gonna fall, right?”
“Not unless I let you,” Wanda reassured you. You couldn’t see her but the teasing tone of her voice made you imagine her with a smirk. A smirk, narrowed eyes, her pretty nightgown floating around her, magical powers that she could definitely use to crush you if she wanted to and you’d probably thank her if she did.
Wow, okay, I either need to confess my sins or go to sleep.
“Why?” Wanda asked suddenly.
“Why what?” you choked back, heat rushing to your face. Surely, she couldn’t read your thoughts…
“Why ask if you would fall?”
Oh.
“Oh.” You started flopping around in the cloud of magic, testing the proverbial waters; you were being taken to the living area now. You heard both Wanda and her husband laughing from beneath and behind you when you settled again.
Vision asked through chuckling, “What could you possibly be doing?”
You suddenly flung yourself to one of the magic surrounding you, thinking maybe you would fall through, but the magic held. You huffed and laid back again but not before you caught a glimpse of the couch that you now hovered over. You grasped at the magic again, watching it wisp through your fingers but feeling nothing at all. “This is so cool.”
Wanda’s voice was softer when she spoke this time. “You think?”
You couldn’t hold back the disbelieving laughter that bubbled up. Suddenly breathless out of sheer excitement of learning more about the people you cared for most, you sighed, “Wanda, baby, you must know that you’re amazing.”
Then you squawked as the magic suddenly disappeared around you, but instead of falling straight to the couch below, Vision flew up to catch you. He held you bridal style as he gently dropped back to his feet next to the couch, grinning—he very rarely just smiled, it was always a big, happy grin when it was directed at you or Wanda or the babies—and giving you a peck on the forehead when you stared up at him, doe-eyed.
“Got my own Superman, too,” you said, “Damn.”
Vision plopped you down on the couch. “Who?”
“Comic book character,” you responded with a wave of your hand, “Doesn’t matter. You’re far better looking than him anyway.”
You shifted a bit to get more comfortable and watched as glowing red magic started swirling all around you. The magic was misty, red around the edges and glowing orange-white in the center, picking up the scattered toys from your and Vision’s scuffle and tossing them into the playpen, pulling said playpen out of the way and sliding the original coffee table back from its place against the wall, picking up any other stray blankets or baby items and placing them neatly out of the way; it also straightened out Vision’s robe and ruffled your hair. Part of the magic moved out of your line of vision, so you twisted to follow it and saw it taking the baby clothes off the drying rack to fold and put on the counter next to it, then continued watching as it folded the rack itself and moved it out of the way.
Wanda was now in your sight again too; she was standing still, palms up with magic flowing outward from the red clouds around them, and looking around to see if there was anything else she needed to put away. She was also blushing, from you calling her baby or saying she’s amazing, you couldn’t tell. After staring for probably way too long, probably looking at her with the same starry-eyed, dopey look that a teenager had at their first concert or after a first kiss, her gaze flitted to yours and made a nose-scrunching face at you before finishing her magical cleanup and making her way over to the couch as well.
You slumped back in the pile of throw pillows behind you, covered your face with your hands, and flutter-kicked your feet few times. “This is so cool!”
You felt a nudge at your feet and you raised your legs so he could sit, then did the same with your head when you felt Wanda’s hand brush across your forehead. When they were both seated, you laid your legs and head on their respective laps and the three of you settled into the comfortable position that had been adopted long after your relationship had started.
That is until you quickly sat up again. “Is that how you unpacked your house so quickly?”
Wanda smiled and nodded. She rested a cheek in the palm of her hand, endeared by your wonderment towards her powers.
“Is that you unpacked my house?”
Another nod.
“And the magic show was real— Wait.” You scowled. “But all the pulleys and stuff.”
“That was, ah, my bad,” Vision offered with a raised hand.
“Covering for him actually using his powers,” Wanda explained.
“I knew the mirrors didn’t make sense with you putting your hat through your body!” you exclaimed. “So flight, super strong, and… not sure what to call that last one. What was with you that day, by the way? You acted drunk, but you can’t get drunk!”
“I swallowed some gum,” Vision muttered, glancing away and rubbing the side of his neck. His other hand waved towards his torso as he continued, “It got all… stuck. Gummed up my gears, if you will.”
Wanda rolled her eyes at the pun. You snickered at it.
“I had to magic it out of him,” she added.
Your gaze flitted back and forth between your two superhuman partners multiple times as you took in the information. Because you were sitting between the two, this involved the turning of your head various times, which made your head swim a bit. You almost wished that they were both sitting to one side of you.
Instead of suggesting this, you settled your gaze to stare aimlessly ahead and said simply, “I’m dating two of the weirdest, coolest, most stellar people in the world. How the hell did I manage that?”
“Charisma,” Vision offered, even though you and him both knew at this point how you’d weirdly creeped on him at the office the first day the two of you met.
“Sheer force of will,” Wanda suggested, but you guaranteed she was remembering how, for the few dates you went on with them, you’d had to be reminded that you were actually on dates and that they weren’t just casual friendly hangouts.
You looked between them once more and then you wished you had suggested they sit to one side of you. Despite their steady, comfortable voices, Wanda was in the process of hiding her flustered face behind the curtain of her hair and Vision was chewing on his lip and couldn’t seem to keep his hands and feet from tapping away.
“Okay,” you said after a moment, patting your thighs to do something with your hands. “I’m grasping that you guys don’t agree with me here. Wanda, go sit by him so I don’t get whiplash from trying to look at you both.”
You and Wanda quickly switched places. You sat cross-legged on the couch to face them and Wanda and Vision shifted around to sit in a way that allowed them to face you without one blocking the other. After a moment, you waved your hands at them; the cheery air has since faded into something more somber. “What is it? Tell me why you get all quiet like that when I tell you, with evidence, why you’re the actual grooviest people I’ve ever met.”
There were a few more moments of silence before Vision went to speak first, which surprised Wanda. She looked at him, eyebrows raised high on her forehead, and lightly grasped his wrist.
“Vis?” she murmured.
He sighed softly and placed his other hand over hers. “Oh, it’s really nothing dear, I promise. It’s just… Well, you’ve heard how the people of the cul-de-sac talk about us sometimes.”
“Mean girls,” you grumbled under your breath with a nod, “the lot of them sometimes.”
Wanda seemed to suddenly sag with sadness and both you and Vision reached over quickly to hold her.
“Oh, darling,” Vision said, “It’s not your fault—”
“That’s not true,” Wanda whispered.
“It is true,” Vision said, and this time he said it with a fierceness that was familiar to you, whenever Wanda was being treated poorly by people like the Queen of the Cul-de-Sac, Dotty, or when Wanda decided to get down on herself. He grasped her shoulders tightly, squeezed them until she looked up at him. “Wanda, darling, love, I didn’t exist before I meant you. I mean, I did, of course, I did, but I was just this strange, non-human, non-machine thing that was just… kind of… there. It was you that gave me an existence, Wanda. You made me human.”
Both you and Wanda stared at him, surprised. Wanda stared because she obviously didn’t fully agree with his opinion of her. You stared because of course, you were dating two of the weirdest, coolest, most stellar, and most romantic people ever.
Get yourself a man like that, you thought. Then after a moment, Wait, that is in fact also my man.
“And you—” Vision said, turning his head in your direction.
“Oh, I’m next?” you stammered. “I thought it was Wanda’s turn.”
Vision still held Wanda but also reached over to tightly grasp your hand and bring it to his mouth. “I just wished we could have confessed to you sooner. I just hate, hate, hated lying to you and now you’re involved with all this too—”
The synthezoid with the English accent looked up at you with eyes begging forgiveness as if he’d committed one of the worst sins imaginable. You let out a hoarse laugh and ran your thumb across the side of his hand.
“I’m sorry,” you said, still chuckling as you wriggled closer to your couple, “but as much as you might like to think you’ve subjected me to something I didn’t sign up for, I’d like to point out that I’ve been about a month ahead of you. I was here before you.” You felt a nagging urge to look at Wanda and repeat the last sentence, and there was something extra special about saying it that second time like there was a double and then a triple meaning behind it, but the way you both furrowed your brows afterward made it clear that neither of you really knew what those meanings were.
Not yet, anyway.
You cleared your throat and removed your hand from Vision’s grasp to place it on the back of the couch. “I moved into this town with no husband or wife, no family, nothing but a pile of letters and a new deed to a new house that happened to be the smallest in the neighborhood. My first week here I told one man in front of the entire night watch that I thought the joke he made about his wife was distasteful, and then the week after I tripped and spilled wine all over his wife. Agnes brought because she thought I’d be a form of entertainment and we somehow ended up becoming friends over a flask that she hid in a pocket sewed into the inside of her skirt.” You offered a look to Wanda again while you mentioned that Agnes never thought your “for the children” jokes were all that funny, though. “I’ve dealt with the comments and the rumors and the ‘what’s wrong with them, they don’t have no kids!’ People are weird and they’re mean and they’re fun and they suck. You want human, dude? You got it. If I was still bothered by comments that are nothing but a bummer, I think I’d be trying a little bit more than wearing clothes that I enjoy over the clothes that are expected of me, telling Dotty she needs to stop being awful before she gets frown lines, or, you know, pining over two people—a married couple nonetheless—until I somehow seduced them with my staring at them from around corners and just generally horrible, awful attempts at eye contact.”
The married couple in question chortled at that.
You used your hand on the back of the couch to hoist yourself up on your knees so you towered over Vision just slightly.
“Here’s the thing, sunshine,” you continued, “I’m not in your boat on this one, you dorks, you’re in mine. I was here first and I don’t give a fuck.”
Wanda gave a sudden laugh. “What language.”
“Has he not told you about the time I said ‘Fuck you’ to a plastic bird in my garden?” you asked. “Multiple times? His name is Bernard and he’s plotting to kill me, I swear.”
Wanda’s troubled expression was split by a wobbly smile.
You threw up your arms in the dramatic fashion that you knew the two people in front of you loved and hollered—then quickly quieted back down to not disturb Billy and Tommy in the other room—“All this for my rambling putz ass to say, who cares about what’s outside this house! You two, and your kids, and I are the only people that matter here. Here being the house, Westview, whatever! Everyone else? Nonexistent.
“Also, just to clarify,” you paused to wave your arms around, gesturing at the entire house, “Love it here. Love this shit.”
You suddenly caught Vision’s slacked jaw in your hand and gave him a peck on the cheek. “This face? Love it.” You moved to peck a spot of silver on his skull. “Love this too.” You pecked the gem on his forehead and swore it glowed brighter in response. “Love this.” You pecked one of his ear plates. “Love these goofy things.” You pecked the tip of his nose. “Love this and the fact that you have it even though you don’t technically even need to breathe. Oh, speaking of which!”
You lifted one of his hands with one of your own and tapped on his red fingernails with your other. You caught a glimpse of his face now that yours wasn’t directly in front of it and noticed him trying to hold back a giddy smile—and failing—while he watched you from underneath red lashes; your whole body would have tried to twist itself in knots under that look if you weren’t too busy swearing to kiss those eyelids and lashes too, at another time. Instead, you pecked each fingertip of the hand you were holding. “Love these ‘useless to my design’ things too. You know what, just speaking of hands—” You dropped Vision’s hand, which made itself to your waist as you went to grab Wanda’s; you were vaguely aware that you were practically leaning into their laps at that point but that could be dealt with when you weren’t trying to make a point.
When you went to touch her, she let you hold her wrist but quickly squeezed her hand into firsts before you could hold it like you had with Vision’s. She was looking away.
You pressed a kiss to her whitening knuckles. “Wanda.”
She looked at you, her perfect face distorted by a deep sadness that almost shattered your heart on the spot. She tightened her first further. The deep emotion appeared to make her slip back into her natural Sokovian accent when she spoke again. “You don’t know the pain it’s caused.”
“I’ve done my fair share,” you affirmed even though you weren’t quite sure why. Then you kissed her knuckles again. “And maybe I don’t, but I know what good it’s caused, that you have.”
Her face twisted into an ugly grimace. She asked hoarsely, “Like what?”
“The first time I saw your face, I wanted to go to space, grab the moon, shrink it down—so it looked like one of those cool little lava rocks, you know? But prettier—and get it put on a ring,” you offered, then kissed the back of her hand and whispered, “and that’s after I found out you were married to a very attractive man too…”
Vision snorted. Wanda cracked the smallest of smiles.
You whispered lower, “And I may or may not have even been interested in marriage before that…”
That time Wanda rolled her eyes; you smiled and grabbed her other clenched hand to share the attention with. You continued, “You’re also so nice, like so nice. You are so kind and care about what people think so much, it’s almost buggy—and bordering on self-destructive but that’s not what we’re talking about— And I sort of get it now, you know, but wow, making your magic show worse for the sake of people’s sanity? Wouldn’t even be on my radar.”
Another little smile.
“I’d be like, ‘Who wants to see me turn this entire table into a rosebush! Dotty’s rosebush specifically; Dotty, I stole your rosebush.’ I actually did steal a rose from her bush that day.”
Wanda blinked and you noticed the lines of her expression weren’t as deeply etched into her face anymore.
“That was Dotty’s?”
You grinned and nodded, then kissed both of her hands. “Also, I love your hair and the way it perfectly frames your perfect face, and I love your little nose scrunches, and I love your eyelashes and the way you look at me from under them sometimes, and I’d kiss all those things but I’m not going to because I gotta get these stubborn, always-working, never-wanna-take-a-break, always-somehow-perfect-nails-having hands to relax before they hurt themselves even though it’s very clearly hard enough to make who woman who owns them do the same. Oh, I did I mention that smile—hoo, Wanda, that foxy smile…”
Wanda was blushing now and bringing up her smile made it happen again, just slightly. You took advantage of the moment anyway and flung yourself back onto the couch with a hand over your heart. “Be still, my pounding heart!”
Vision, who was watching by your and Wanda’s sides, laughed a bit. Wanda herself rolled her eyes again; the smile didn’t disappear afterward.
You sat up again and pointed at Vision, now that he’d brought attention to himself again. “And I don’t know whether you heard any of the stuff this guy said! You made him exist? You made him human? What? You two also do this thing where you just look at each other and have a whole conversation, I don’t know if you guys know you do that or not. You do, though, and I don’t know if either or both of you are psychic but if you are and still love me? With my unhinged brain? Migraines and all? I wouldn’t understand, even if you explained it to me.”
Vision offered, “Neither of us is psychic but anyway, please continue.”
“Have anything to add?”
“You’re doing wonderfully.”
“Thank you.” You looked back and Wanda, noting that her face had almost completely softened now, as she was too busy being flustered to be sad at this point. You quickly scooped her hands before they could curl into fists again placed kissed on each of the crescent moon-shaped marks now dug into their palms. “Your magic rocked your babies to sleep. Your magic cleaned up all their and put it all in one nice, neat place. You floated me around the house with your magic and even protected me from falling when I was wriggling around up there; bet that was fun for both of you to watch. Vision said earlier that that was your job, to protect me, and while I don’t fully agree because I consider it the other way around, is that not what you did?”
“I thought it was cute,” Wanda replied softly to the second to last sentence you said. She watched as you gave her hands a few more pecks.
“So, you agree then,” you said, “that your magic protected me and also made me cuter?”
She laughed and the sound made your heart soared, performing an aerial performance in your chest. She tried to wriggle her hands free from you but then you scowled and tucked them protectively under your chin.
“Gotta say it. Gotta say your magic made me cute.”
“I’m not saying that.”
You shrugged and got comfy, laying your head in her lap with her hands still hidden. “Have to. Otherwise, no hands for you. Oh, did I not mention how good you are to your kids yet? You’re so good—”
“Okay, okay, okay,” Wanda forfeited through a wet laugh. Hearing said laugh, your head shot up in concern, but the woman was smiling as she snagged your hands back; what she chose to do with them next was grab your face and place a kiss directly on your mouth.
It was quick and soft and sweet and absolutely none of that prevented the fireworks that went off in your skull and your chest and your stomach and your veins that made tingles shoot all the way down to your toes. She pulled away as quickly as she had moved in and you blinked; your brain was still short-circuiting, like a robot—like a Vision with his gears all gummed up, and your dazed brain thought that was a very funny connection, so it repeated the joke verbally.
Luckily, Vision was close enough to the level of dork that you were and he laughed at it with you.
It took a deep breath and a head shake to de-gum your brain—if only Wanda could magic that—but after the excitement wore off, you felt sleepiness start creeping in and decided to make your final push. You curled a hand around both of your partners’ necks and brought their faces closer to nuzzle your noses together; they responded by each of them wrapping an arm around your waist and returning the affectionate action.
“So, in conclusion,” you stated, which caused Vision to laugh lightly and Wanda to grin just slightly, “I love both of these perfect faces.” You kissed each of their noses. “And these funky, magical brains.” You kissed Wanda at the base of her hairline, then Vision just below his forehead gem. “And these equally funky, magical hands.” You grabbed the hands not looped around your waist and kissed the back of them. “And both of those babies, and this house, and y—”
You sucked in a sudden breath to stop yourself so hard that you almost choked and you reeled back to the other side of the couch only to drag Vision and Wanda with you. The three of you tumbled into a flustered heap on the couch and over their shoulders, you could see early morning light filtering through the windows. This barely registered, though, as you were too busy focusing on the fact that you almost L-worded them on a silly, tired whim.
Despite the awkwardness of the moment and the unspoken words, no one made a move to remove themselves from the warm, cozy entanglement. One of both Wanda and Vision’s arms was pinned under your back, keeping them solid in place against you while simultaneously and successfully enveloping you in between them; your own arms, which had instinctively wrapped protectively around their shoulders in the tumble, kept them in a similar state. Wanda’s hair fanned found and covered the three of you like a blanket, and you were keenly aware of her breath softly wafting over the exposed skin of your neck from where her head now rested on your shoulder. Vision’s rested slightly lower, on your chest, and you felt a quickened pulse where his gem pressed into your neck, but you couldn’t be sure whether it was yours or his.
You stared past their shoulders and watched as sunlight shone through the curtains and dappled the ceiling. You tried to figure out whether you were stupider for stopping yourself from finishing that sentence or for not saying it at all.
Then you felt a kiss being pressed to your clothed shoulder.
“You’ve said so many things that you’ve loved tonight [Y/N],” Wanda murmured, her hot breath causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. “What’s two more?”
“I—” you started, then bit your tongue again. There was something about saying that phrase that made you worried; you felt like if you said it now, the happy little world you lived in would begin to crumble, like it would all end far too soon. You sighed softly and said instead, “I don’t know how I would live without you.”
There were a few moments of silence where you watched more sunlight filter in and wished you could take it back because what a way to talk a big game and then not follow through—
Then Vision’s head appeared above you and he pressed a dizziness-inducing kiss to your lips. When he pulled away, he nuzzled your nose with his own as he murmured, “I love you too.”
In almost the same moment, Wanda was mumbling the same phrase against your jawline.
Sleepy and hazy-brained you couldn’t do much else but stare at Vision like a lovesick puppy that struggled to say that L-word, then snuggle back down with both him and Wanda when they relaxed against you again. That seemed to be the last of what needed to be said, though, because everything was cozy and warm and golden brown in your home again and, one by one, the three of you fell into a deep, comfortable sleep.
In the black void of otherwise dreamless sleep, you heard the vaguely familiar First Voice finish chewing something and then go, “Aww…”
#marvel#marvel x reader#marvel headcanons#marvel imagines#mcu#mcu x reader#mcu imagines#mcu headcanons#wandavision#wandavision x reader#wandavision imagines#wandavision headcanons#poly!wandavision#poly wandavision#gender neutral reader#reader insert#fanfiction#scarlet witch#vision#marvel vision#wanda maximoff#scarlet witch x reader#scarlet witch imagines#scarlet witch headcanons#wands maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff imagines#wanda maximoff headcanons#vision x reader#vision imagines#vision headcanons
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five intimate moments | din djarin x reader
A chronicle of five moments that shaped the Mandalorian’s relationship with his one and only crew member.
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3.5 k words
Mentions: illness, hallucinations induced by a high fever, minor injury to the reader character, NO SMUT!
(This is my first attempt at a Mando fic so please have mercy!!!)
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1.
When the Mandalorian says he wants to hire you as his first and only crew member, you’re taken aback to say the least. Your first impulse is to laugh and tell him that his joke is very funny, because what else could an offer like that be from a man like him? He’s entirely self-sufficient from the look of things, and it’s not like he doesn’t have the credits to buy services from others when he needs them. But one long look into the darkness of that visor tells you at once that what Mando’s said is no jest, tells you that he’s serious.
He tells you that he’ll cut you in ten percent if you help him out a little bit. It’s standard stuff, really, just ship repairs, navigation, and taking care of the baby. You’ve learned a lot under Peli over the last several years, you’ve definitely sat in the pilot’s chair a time or two, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a soft spot for Mando’s weird little baby— so why not? Working for him would get you off this planet, and it would be a change of pace for sure.
Doubt sets in the night before you’re set to go off with the Mandalorian, though Peli waves your feelings off pretty readily.
“You’re being stupid,” she tells you bluntly. “He’s a Mandalorian. Just do as you’re told, help him with the kid, and let him keep to himself if he wants to. Everything’ll be fine.”
Peli’s words are of some comfort, though anxiety is still fluttering in your gut the next morning. You say your goodbyes to your mentor and the droids, and then you’re flying off in the Razor Crest on the way to somewhere.
The first day is strange as you try to pick your way around your new home, and you spend much of your time feeling as though you’re snooping around in someone else’s space. The Mandalorian is just as quiet as you thought he’d be, clanging around in his armor doing this and that while you try to make yourself busy. You run out of tasks quickly, however, and it makes you skin itch to sit idle like this.
You watch for nearly an hour as Mando fiddles with the mechanics in one of his arm guards, cursing under his breath through the modulator as he picks at this and that. You think you know what the problem is, but you’re not sure you’re brave enough to tell him that. Finally, though, you can’t let him struggle anymore.
“Let me see,” you declare, cringing as you realize your tone was more commanding than you’d meant for it to be. But Mando says nothing to this, letting you take hold of his arm without uttering so much as a sound. Just as you thought, there’s an issue farther up the guard, one he’d overlooked. A little soldering here, a change of wires there, and then the thing’s good as new again.
“Thank you,” the Mandalorian says, and you can feel his eyes on you through the visor.
“It’s what you hired me for.” You laugh nervously then, suddenly shy under the attention. “Gotta show you I’m not completely useless somehow, right?”
The Mandalorian stands, headed for the ladder on the other side of the room.
“Don’t call yourself useless.”
This is said without so much as a glance over his shoulder, and you find yourself rushing to explain for no apparent reason.
“I didn’t—”
“Yes, you did.” The Mandalorian pauses with one foot on the first rung, finally turning to look at you now. “You’re not useless.”
2.
The Razor Crest’s interior, in the grand tradition of spaces owned and maintained by single men, is in desperate need of a tune-up. There’s a bit of clutter here and there, and the walls and surfaces and well, everything else could do with a good scrubbing. It’s a big project to say the least, but you think you can tackle it given enough time and supplies.
The perfect window for such an undertaking opens up just a few days after the idea strikes you. Mando’s got another assignment, and it’s brought you to a relatively safe planet nearer to the Outer Core. He’ll be gone a few days, or so he says, and you know already that the market in town will be the perfect place to get what you need.
You set about your task the same day the Mandalorian leaves to set about his, the baby secured to your chest in a makeshift sling. It’s a good thing you brought him, too, because his charm helps you score several bargains along the way.
Organizing everything takes almost a whole day by itself, but after that, the cleaning is easy. You scrub and dust and mop until everything sparkles, and then it’s time to do laundry and see if you can make some functioning garments out of the scraps you find in Mando’s small closet. The clothes he wears aren’t rags by any means, but a little patching here and mending there gives him two more shirts and another pair of pants to work with.
It takes two more days for Mando to come home after you’re done, and he notes the changes immediately. He stops dead in the little hall between the main hull and the place where he keeps his carbonite-contained quarries, looking to the left and then to the right very slowly. You can’t tell if he likes what you’ve done at first, his expression obscured by that damn helmet like it always is.
“I didn’t touch your weapons,” you declare, holding up your hands as if to ward off whatever anger Mando’s about to level at you. But he doesn’t get upset, doesn’t cuss or ask you what the hell your were thinking, so you think it’s safe to go on.
“I scrubbed the whole interior, organized some of the stuff you had laying around, and made myself a better place to sleep.”
You gesture to the pallet you’ve made for yourself on the floor, proud of how you’ve managed to tuck it out of the way. That was the problem with your old spot— Mando had to step around you a lot, and it was becoming impractical. This new space comfortable, too, plush thanks to some cushions and blankets you managed to score in the market. You even have pillows now, but this is something you delight in privately.
The Mandalorian stands silently before you, and you prattle on, showing him this and that.
“I got the baby a couple of outfits to wear, one for colder weather and one for warmer weather. I mended some of your old clothes and washed everything that was here, so that’s done.” You shut the door to the little wardrobe and go to Mando’s bunk, pushing the button so he can see inside. “The woman that sells upholstered goods in the market really liked the Child, so she gave me a great deal. I managed to get you a decent mattress, or something close to it, and a couple of new pillows. She fixed up your old quilt for me too, so I hope it’s warmer now…”
You trail off, words escaping you under the intensity of Mando’s gaze. He’s staring you down properly now, the visor trained right on your face.
“Why did you do all of this?” he asks, gesturing to his bunk, the wardrobe. The thought crosses your mind that perhaps you should have asked before you messed with his things, his sleeping space, and a wave of something not unlike embarrassment sweeps over you.
“I— Mando, I’m sorry, I should have—”
But the Mandalorian still isn’t cross, cutting you off before you can finish apologizing. “Don’t apologize for anything. This is… This is…” He stares at his bed for a long moment, searching for his words. “Thank you.”
Something about the way he says it makes your stomach flutter, though you can’t decide if that’s good or bad.
3.
The cough is innocuous enough when it starts, just a tickle in the back of your throat that comes on one afternoon. You brush it off as allergies, even telling Mando you’re fine when he asks about it that night.
Two days later, you’re bedridden.
Mando insists you’re absolutely burning up even as you shiver and shake beneath a virtual mountain of blankets, so cold that you think you’ll never be warm again. He forces you to sip on broth and water, though it all settles like sludge in your stomach. It must be bad, whatever you have— you must look bad— because the Mandalorian’s façade is slipping. He’s having full-blown conversations with the baby now, asking the little green infant if he thinks it’s a good idea to cut this hunt short, if he thinks you can be left alone for even just a few hours while he collects the last quarry. And though your body is aching, though you can practically feel the fever cooking your brain at this point, you tell him to finish the job. He made an agreement, and you know it’ll kill Mando not to honor it— you’ll be fine by yourself.
The two of you touch down on some planet in the Outer Rim, and then Mando’s practically running out of the ship. He promises to be back within the day, the sincerity in his voice managing to pierce the haze clouding your mind, and the ache in your bones makes you hope he means it.
Sometime later, you begin to hear a voice coming from the ‘fresher, one that taunts and teases you. It speaks nonsense on and off, but the clearer messages are frightening nonetheless. The voice says that Mando’s not coming back, that he’s left you here forever. Why else would he have taken the baby, hm? He doesn’t care for you, he’s not going to help you.
“Yes, he is,” you retort weakly, becoming more and more upset with each passing hour as this faceless thing continues to fill your head with words and threats. Somewhere in the very back of your fever-addled brain, you know that none of this is real, that all of this is a fever dream. But still, you weep and twist in your bed, scared that the Mandalorian really has abandoned you.
True to his word, though, Mando’s back in record time. You cry out for him the minute you hear footsteps inside the ship, and even the quarry grows quiet at the sound of your voice. Things are hazy after that, but you know that Mando comes to you after just a few minutes, promising over and over again that you’ll be better soon.
You and the Mandalorian and the baby fly somewhere together, this much you know, and Mando comes to sit on the floor with you once the Crest is in hyperspace.
“We’ll be there soon,” he tells you, voice tense and nervous through the modulator. He shushes you when you become upset all over again, emotions stirred by more taunting from the voice in the ‘fresher.
“Make it stop,” you cry, so very weak, “please make it stop. It’s so mean, Mando.”
“Hey, hey,” the Mandalorian cuts, pressing a gloved hand to your forehead. “Nothing can hurt you while I’m here, I won’t let it. I’ll stay right here until we get you to a doctor, I promise.”
And that’s enough to calm you for a few hours, it’s enough to help you fall asleep. You only wake again when you feel arms around your body, when the plushness of your mattress is no longer underneath you.
“Come on,” Mando says, talking to himself as much as he’s talking to you. “The medic will fix this. He’ll fix this, and everything will be fine.”
The medic the Mandalorian takes you to does fix this, but things are touch and go for a few hours there. Your fever breaks in just a couple of hours, thank the Maker, but you’re still very weak from being so sick for so long. You spend two days confined to a medbay bed before you’re deemed well enough to be discharged, and even then, it takes about a week before you’re truly feeling like yourself again.
It’s not until much later that you realize Mando never left your bedside once, and not for the first time do you find yourself wondering what something like that means coming from a man like him.
4.
Mando’s been gone nearly two weeks, and the baby’s beginning to lose it just the slightest bit. He doesn’t talk, of course, not in a way you can understand, but you know he misses his father. If the Child isn’t in a sour mood, he cries, and you’ve caught him playing in Mando’s clothes more than once. It’s stressful, taking care of the baby when he’s like this, but you understand how he feels. You feel strange and almost embarrassed to admit it, but you miss the Mandalorian too. The rational part of you knows it would be best to chalk it up to proximity, but you know in your heart that it’s a little more than that. But just because you know this doesn’t mean you accept it, and you tamp down the feeling at every turn, focusing instead on getting the Child through this rough period.
At the sixteen-day mark, the baby refuses to sleep in his pram entirely, insisting instead that Mando’s bunk will do much better. And you would be fine with that, all things considered, if he wasn’t insistent that you climb in there with him as well.
“Bug, I know you want Mando to come home, and I know you like sleeping with me when he’s not here, but I’m not getting in there with you.”
The baby makes a most discontent noise, pulling on your fingers so hard that he tumbles back onto Mando’s mattress when he lets go. You tell him once again that you won’t be invading his father’s space like that, and then the Child is crying, sobbing so hard his little shoulders shake beneath his baggy outfit. I’m too tired for this, you think to yourself, and you finally give the baby what he wants.
“Alright, alright,” you acquiesce, climbing up into the bunk with a sigh. “But we’re not telling him about this.”
The Child is soothed at once, snuggling down beside you in Mando’s blankets as if he was never upset in the first place. You lie beside him in the dark, eyes already growing heavy as you breathe in the scent of the covers around you, the scent of the pillow beneath your head. All at once, you realize that this is what Mando probably smells like under all the armor and the weapons. Something about that only serves to make this whole thing feel even more like a violation, but you force that thought out of your mind.
At some point, you do drift off, only the be woken hours later by the feeling of a hand on your ankle. And there the Mandalorian is, standing before you in the flesh (and beskar) after all those days away.
“You’re in my bed,” he says to you, though there’s no edge to the words. It’s a simple statement of fact, a plain observation.
“We missed you,” is all you have to say in explanation, though it takes you about three seconds too long to realize which pronoun you chose to throw out in the front there. Now properly awake, you go to cover the mistake, but Mando cuts you off as he is so wont to do.
“I missed you too,” he says slowly, voice dropping almost to a whisper. “Both of you.”
5.
You realize that Nevarro may not be as safe as you thought about three seconds after a man with a vibroblade demands you hand over all the credits you have. You try to flee on impulse, your mind focused on protecting the baby—
Right up until the man catches your shirt, using the natural momentum of the action to propel you right into his clenched fist. Searing hot pain blooms behind your eye, spreading across the entire side of your face and into your nose. You’re completely stunned, unable to so much as form a coherent thought as your attacker moves to hit you again.
It’s like everything happens in slow-motion after that. One minute, your assailant is bearing down on you with murder in his eyes— the next, he’s grimacing, falling to the ground with thud. Two voices urge you to follow them now, and there are hands on your shoulders, your back. You’re so disoriented that it takes you a moment to realize that there are two fucking Mandalorians in your face, but when you do, the urge to fight back leaves you immediately.
Neither Mando is your Mandalorian, but you follow them anyway. They usher you into a tunnel system beneath the city, telling you to turn this way and that, and you do as they say without question. For some reason, they know you— they know your name, and they certainly know the baby because they ask about him the moment the lot of you are concealed. About a thousand questions swim around in your mind as you follow the Mandalorians deeper and deeper into the tunnels, but you aren’t given a chance to ask a single one.
Finally, you’re allowed to stop in a smith of some sort, coming to stand before a Mandalorian woman sheathed in maroon and gold. She regards you for a long moment, pausing over her work to take in the sight of your face, the way you clutch the baby protectively against your chest.
“Fetch him,” is all that she says, speaking to one of your saviors, and they turn and leave without a word.
A period of time elapses before you hear movement in the hall, though you can’t be sure how long. What you are sure of, though, is that you hear Mando’s voice drawing near, and the wave of relief that washes over you is almost overwhelming. You’re safe here, of course— anyone would be, surrounded by this many Mandalorians— but… but they’re not him.
“What happened?”
It’s the first thing Mando says to you, picking up the pace once he lays eyes on your injuries. You’re taken aback by how he crowds you, how he lets his gloved hands linger on your cheek.
“She was attacked by a chakaar,” says the Armorer, speaking from workspace. “He will not be bothering anyone again, though.”
Mando is satisfied by this, thanking his brothers and sisters for protecting you and his child. You thank them as well, though it’s hard to tell if the sentiment lands with the Mandalorians. The Armorer is the only one who responds at all, saying, “You are our brother’s cyar’ika,” she explains, confusing you with a word you don’t recognize, “we as his brothers and sisters must protect you. This is the Way.”
“The is the Way,” intones the group, and then you’re being ushered from the room, tucked under Mando— your Mando’s— arm.
The walk back to the ship is a quiet one, though the Child coos happily. He seems largely unaffected by all of this, even dozing off in his pram as though he’s had an uneventful afternoon. You’re glad he’s asleep, knowing it’ll give you and Mando some time to talk. You want to ask him about what the Armorer said, what that word meant. Mando’s cyar… cyar’ika? Is that what she’d called you?
But you don’t get the chance to speak a word, because Mando crushes you against him the moment you get the baby settled. His arms are strong around your back, the sensation of being held by him effectively knocking the air from your lungs. When he finally lets you go, every question you had stuffed in your mind is gone.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” the Mandalorian says to you, sounding more distraught than you ever thought possible. You shake your head at that— how could he possibly have known?
“I’m fine, Mando,” you press. “Don’t worry about my face, it’s—”
“I should have been there.”
The both of you just look at one another after that, and the Mandalorian doesn’t flinch away when you lay your hand on the side of his helmet. You know at once that everything is different now, but you need to hear it just to be sure.
“That woman—”
“The Armorer,” Mando corrects.
“The Armorer,” you begin again, speaking slowly and deliberately. “What did she mean when she said what she said about me? What is a cyar… cyar’ika?”
Mando’s hand comes up, and his glove is cool on your uninjured cheek.
“’Beloved,’” he says softly, “’cyar’ika’ means ‘beloved.’”
You think your heart’s going to beat right out of your chest, but you force yourself not to be calm.
“If you’re going to call me your cyar’ika,” you whisper, afraid you’ll shout if you don’t, “then what should I call you?”
“Din. You can call me Din.”
#my writing#din djarin#din djarin x reader#din djarin fanfiction#the mandalorian fanfiction#cw: illness#tw: illness#cw: hallucinations#tw: hallucinations
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The great book of sayings
PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x FemReader
SUMMARY: He looks at you, his scarlet eyes fixed on yours, burning a hole through your head, every bit the predator he is, but you are as tough as it gets, so, against your better judgment and any well-founded logic, you answer his silent threat, the animalistic look he gives you with nothing less than a fearless smirk, irises burrowing into his pupils.A clever girl. He thinks, finally labeling you inside his head, cursing himself in the very moment he allows his brain to think of you as more than an asset. He is sure (he knows himself enough to know) he’ll think of this moment many times from now on.A clever pretty girl.
Reader is a typical college student until she gets herself tangled with the league of villains.
WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, violence, Tomura being Tomura, mentions of murder, heroes’ abuse of power, smut, dirty talking.
A/N: This chapter is shameless smut, you are warned. Minors do not interact. go and read a book or something.
Any misspelled words, english is not my native language so i’m trying Helen.As always, let me know what you think!
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Chapter 14 / Chapter 15
Lovers ever run before the clock.
Overhaul really is just an uptight pretentious asshole, but Tomura lets his insulting remarks slide, trying his utter best not to snap.
He was supposed to be in a good mood today, but by the time Chronostasis puts the gun against his white locks, he swears that he will do anything in his power to completely ruin Shie Hassakai for this mess, already struggling to keep his temper at bay.
“I don’t want you to get hurt. That’s all.”
He’s never one to get distracted but it is difficult to stay focus when he cannot erase the feeling of her thighs caging his hips, her words rumbling inside his brain like a prayer for him to come back and take what’s already his.
It enrages him far more than he would like to admit, but he can’t go back if he gets killed, can’t he?
Luckily for them, Tomura kinda lacks that self-preservation impulse at the face of danger, so he stays there completely stoic and delightfully petty between Chisaki and the gun. The thought of her crying because he got his pretty brains scattered all over the Shie Hassakai immaculate floor makes him realize that he has yet another reason to hate Overhaul.
Really, what’s the matter with these people? they just keep adding points to their list, but sure, he will work with what he has (as always) by sending Toga and Twice into their ranks to gain some reliability after Chisaki told him about this ridiculous plan of curing society of quirks like it’s an illness.
And he thought que was an extremist.
It’s a dumb concept, really. People decide to be assholes, to be heroes, villains and such. There is a choice in excluding those like him from society meanwhile hero violence is idolized. But quirks? People don’t get to choose. Shit just happens. You can develop a cute little nice quirk that allows you to make bubbles or something ridiculous like, dunno, destroying everything you touch; but people can help it, it’s just the way it is. Nobody asks for it. Not even Overhaul, not even him.
And, even when Tomura can understand what Overhaul is saying about society being unfair based on quirks, his plan still sounds pretty nonsensical to him, who wants to destroy everything with his own hands, after all is that why he was born with such deadly weapon at the reach of his fingers. It would be nothing short but hypocritical and, despite the irony, he likes to think of himself as an honest person. His goal clashes directly with Overhaul’s, so no, he will keep the league interests to himself and for now will trust Toga and Twice to do what they do best without rising any suspicion about what he’s up to. Chisaki is more stupid tan he looks if he thinks Tomura will make blind eye to the audacity of his challenge and his continuous lack of propriety.
Oh, poor Overhaul. He doesn’t know it yet, but he already lost.
In the meantime, he’ll keep himself busy on more important and exciting matters. Hating Overhaul is something he can use as a motivation for more than just inner monologue, because you see, Tomura has a revenge to plan and a truck to steal.
_____________
Things are different next time he sees you. Something primal and strange born from a sick sense of belonging that fills your interactions after the night you slept together, soothing his temper and bitterness into something warmer and far more intense that pulls and twist and burns to be close to each other.
It's been four days since they left the apartment to prepare the backhand against Overhaul and Tomura is sure that by that hour tomorrow Overhaul will have failed, leaving him as the great winner of his sensei’s title. (Not that he ever needed to prove it, but if Overhaul wanted to pick a fight, he would not be the one to deny his wishes.)
Tonight, however, has nothing to do with all that, not when he’s finally back.
You’ve been waiting for his return by the window, searching for his frame in every shadow, a mug of chocolate warming your hands as the soup simmered over the stove. A warm meal made for him every night in case he decided to return, guessing he would be hungry and cold, wondering if it isn’t too much (but you care for him, so you do it anyway).
A supposition that turned out to be true, but Tomura had another solution in mind.
He’s a starving dog all hunger and demand, a wild vicious thing that looks at you feral and maddened, dripping with want and something far scarier that you don’t dare to name (but you do know, don’t you?).
You are no better than him, not when your fingers had traced patterns with his name across your body, spelling dreams and fantasies from your lips, remembering the way his fingers filled you and you wonder if he touched himself thinking about you too. The answer comes rather messy the moment his jagged mouth whimpers how much he missed you between whispers and moans that to you sound like poetry.
And he takes and takes and takes with deaf hands and sharp teeth, leaving bruises with the shape of his fingertips burned all over you as he bites and scratch and pull-out whimpers and pants from your mouth that echoes the frantic tune of his heart slamming against his ribs because he missed you so much it was painful.
So, he had kissed you feverish, stomping you against the wall desperate and needing for your attention until you had pull him by the neck of his shirt to drag him into the bedroom, his brain completely forgetting about Overhaul’s existence the moment you push him to the edge of the mattress to sit in his lap, pulling the hem of his shirt for him to take it off, too focused in the heat prints your hands leave on his pale shoulders as something roars inside of his chest urging him to imprint his existence on your skin and possess the being that lives inside your bones.
Tomura paints a plethora of purple kisses over your neck and chest as a mark of his touch and your belonging. Something dark and twisted reverbing inside his ribs, inside his brain.
Mine; his mind repeats over and over again until he’s dizzied from the words, drunk in touch as your hands slither all over his sides, his chest and shoulders. His eyes marveling in the way skin holds together every angle of your flesh and the parts where your bones show from inside of your figure when he finally takes off your dress.
So soft, so beautiful and all his.
His kisses become raw and sharp and painful like the electric bond that ties you together by the ribs, all roughness and need, bruising lips and sinking teeth. Your moans and pants mixing now and then with some pained yelps and hisses of his name to call out on his harshness, but he chooses to make deaf ears to your pleas, too busy trying to gorge on your taste.
His teeth sink on your skin leaving marks like crescent moons that he kisses after you cry, pleasure and need pooling between your thighs, a tightness that burn inside your belly as you tangle your fingers in his hair, thinking briefly between the fog of your thoughts that it has grown, that it looks painfully beautiful on him like a crown of silver and moonlight.
Soon enough your legs lock around his bony hips, the choir of soft mewls and pants has become something far more animal; cries filling the room with each touch. White underwear remaining as the last barrier to your skin, leaving a wet stain over the fabric of his jeans.
The room turns unbearable warm as your kisses become more slopy and open, letting him take your mouth just how he likes it as he registers the way the skin of your torso presses against his bare chest, your warmth spreading over, suffocating him.
Hooking a finger on your bra cup, Tomura pulls down and reveals the flesh hidden under the layers of lace, deciding already that this is his favorite image of you. Covered in love marks, wet and underwear ruined, your bra tucked under the curb of your breast. Something obscene and desperate about it, more crude than mere nakedness and it’s exactly how he likes it.
It looks lewd, it looks nasty. It looks like everything he wants to make of you, so he tightens his hold on your waist, making your back curve a little up to latch his mouth to your breast, sucking hard enough to draw a loud moan from your lips as you dig your nails on the muscle of his arms, delight shooting through your spine.
“Ow…fuck…” you pant with each pull of his mouth, and he chuckles darkly against your chest, amused and smug because he has you and he knows it, a sinister part of him (the vengeful scary one that wants to kill and maim and destroy) screaming that you belong to him from now on, that you’ll never leave, that he’ll never let you.
Mine, and mine alone he thinks and the thought sounds jarring and loud inside his head as he leaves bruises all over the skin that surround the buds of your chest, making you gasp over his lap.
“What? Wanna say something?” Tomura teases watching your expression, your eyes going wide the moment he slides your panties to the side and press his fingers inside you without warning.
“T-oh…Tomura…fuck…ow” you try to articulate but the words come out as blurred whispers.
“No bickering now?”
“Oh god…Tomura…please” you cry trembling, mouth watering with every touch of his palm over your nerve.
“Please what.”
You hide your face on the crook of his neck to bite him hard enough to make him bark an excited laugh, rejoicing in the fact that you are marking him too, before hooking his fingers inside you to make you moan loudly; hips moving automatically as one of your hands reach the hem of his pants and unbuttons his jeans to touch him back.
“I want you inside.”
He lets out a pretty hiss the moment your fist close around his length, caressing him tentatively until finding a pace, giving you a little victory over his rough teasing.
“I wanna tear you apart” he growls reaching deep inside of you, a wolf like grin slicing across his face baring his sharp teeth “you are a mess. All wet and begging for me to fuck you.”
“Tomura…”
“Fuck…you are so wet, all for me…my good girl, my good girl.” The words pour out of his mouth in feverish tone as his other hand clear the hair off your face before catching your lips on his again.
“Tomura, please…”
He snaps, turning you onto the mattress to climb over your body, throwing his jeans to the floor before leaning between your thighs as his hardness brushes over your clothed center. His patience has run thin though, so he yanks the panties by one side, closing all five fingers over the piece of fabric that flews to the floor before transforming into dust.
He lines up with your center, feeling the intimate touch before thrusting deep into you, ripping out a high moan that makes your eyes roll back and your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving scratching marks all over his pale skin in an attempt to steady yourself as your walls burn with the stretching.
No, he isn’t gentle this time, he just can’t bring himself to be soft when he feels like the awful infatuation he’s been harboring inside is about to tear his ribs open, pouring out for everyone to see the bloody mess you’ve made of his heart. So, he thrust hard like punishing you for it, snaping his hips fast and deep into you, trying to leave a bruise mark inside as well as one of his hands tangles between your hair, pulling and making you scream to the rhythm of your creaking bed.
He bottoms out the moment his arm hooks under your knee, as you tangle your other leg over his waist, giving him deepest access into you, his tip planting kisses against your cervix, rough friction and raw closeness sending you over the edge because he’s fucking you hard, making sure your screaming can be heard from the hall of the building.
It's brutal, yet you give him everything he wants and more because you like it like this, you like it because is him. The warmth of his body covering yours and you wonder if he can feel it too.
The terrific need of holding onto his body, his wicked smile, his bruised heart. The horror of your attachment to a person like him and what this represents, at the brim of ruining your life for love…
Love.
You are so in love with him.
“Look at me” he demands pulling your hair, a feral snarl across his sharp face darkening his features before kissing you hard, his tongue filling your mouth in lewd motion. “Fuck, you are so tight…I wanna split you in half.” His voice is a coarse and maddened sound against your lips, so close and intimate it’s scary because he’s sinking so deep it feels like he’s trying to rearrange your insides and his words do nothing but intensify the heat.
“Fuck…Tomura…it hurst…you’re so rough…so rough” You manage to blurt out, eyes boring into his.
“And you love it, don’t you?” he snarls tightening the grip on your hair. “You like how it feels…like I’m gonna split your pretty cunt in two. Huh? Say it, say it…”
“Fuck…yes…yes”
“Yes what.” He barks in a particularly harsh thrust that makes you scream like a wildling.
“I love it…fuck…like that…I love it…I love it.”
“You are mine…you hear me?” he prays over your mouth half ordering, half begging for you to go down with it and say that yes, that you’ll never leave him, that you’ll stay with him “All mine to fuck, mine, mine, mine, MINE!” he growls with every thrust as the bed slams hard against the wall until you are a babbling incoherent mess.
His brutal pace and words get you quiet soon, too much to even make a sound and hardly even allowing you to breathe, too concentrated in the feeling of his length and him smashing into your ending wall as the overwhelming touch of his hips and his abdomen on yours burns your skin.
The brush of his hair and ragged breathing fanning over your cheek is the only compass of time while the tightness in your belly threatens to snap the moment your teary eyes meet his, mouth on mouth without even kiss, but you smile to him, your warm hand caressing softly the skin of his jaw as he tears into you, feeling incapable of telling him what the voice of your mind has been playing over and over again.
I’m in love with you.
Like sensing your thoughts, his hands abandon your hair. Four trembling fingers cuddling your cheek, carefully and almost scared before closing his eyes, letting his forehead rest on yours as he whispers sweet words of praise only for you to keep, still forcing himself in and out of you. His mouth watering to the sight of your bouncing breast still trapped by your bra.
“ow…I’m gonna..Tomura…I’m gonna…”
The snap of his hips become erratic when finally you come undone on him, eyes rolling back and a cry that tears your throat open when your walls clench around his hardness making him moan as he keeps thrusting in and out, reaching his own end soon after; his hand closing tightly into a fist over the mattress as he grunts with his face hidden on the crook of your neck, filling you warm and slick until he goes soft inside of you.
Tomura pulls out and rests his head on your chest, his heart hammering against your belly, still trying to catch his breath; his fingers tracing mindless patterns over the shape of your waist, as your hands slide between the tangled locks of silver, lips laying little pecks over his crown.
Time slows down, minutes passing and quiet settles, he notices.
Quiet inside of him.
This is all he wanted from the moment he crossed the umbral of your door months ago. The insufferable itch silenced by the calming thump of your heart, fluttering softly behind the gate of your ribs and he wonders if maybe you’d have a room by your core where he could lay his bones to finally rest for a minute from all the rage and hate that burdens him.
Maybe you do have one, hidden and unspoken, a mirror of the one you occupy in the graveyard of his chest where he holds you beautiful and bright and…everything he doesn’t get to hate.
Yeah, he thinks you do. After all, he’s lying in your arms, isn’t it? You had caressed his face and marked his neck and back, all teeth and nails, to then crown him with a wreath of kisses, your body soft and still under his weight, while your hands brush carefully through his scalp.
He knows the feeling, he’s not stupid…but he doesn’t get to speak its name yet.
Is not that bad, after all. Being attached to you and the lullaby of your heartbeat could make him better, smarter, stronger. You could be another reason to fight and destroy. After all, in a society as rotten as this one, you’ll never be allowed to walk by his side if not by putting a bounty on your head too.
What the media would say about you? Would they catalog you as an S class villain? since your quirk is as deadly as it gets, you would be feared and hated. You can practically kill by just looking at someone and he’s not even sure if you really need to look to your target, after all.
And yet you are the kindest person he knows. If someone of the hero commission knew about this, you’d be hunted down despite your service as a doctor, despite your resolution to help whoever needs it, despite caring for those rotten and downthrown. And since you are critical of the system, you’d be reduced to just another animal to put down. Just like him.
Tomura swears he’ll decay every single person on the world before let that happen.
“Tomura…”
He rises his head to look at you, a question drawn across his face.
“Can you…move a little? My bra is killing me.”
“Ow…sorry about that.” He apologizes, curious eyes over the mark that the elastic has left over your skin as he sits by your side.
“Can you help me? I can’t reach the clip…”
“Sure…”
You bend over to give him better access to your back, feeling his fingers brush over your skin carefully, before liberating you from the elastic straps incrusted on your flesh.
Tomura leans forward, placing soft kisses between your shoulder blades, letting his forehead rest over your spine and the touch is so sweet that it makes you wonder if maybe he does feel the same as you.
You get your answer when his hand moves forward to cup your breast, middle finger carefully up, as the other slides down between your thighs, making you sigh, feeling his hardness brushing your hip.
He nuzzles against your cheek, until you turn to kiss him deeply, warmth pooling between your legs again as his fingers play lazy between your slick entrance and the bundle of nerves. This time though, you take your chance and turn over, sitting on top before taking his wrist to lay kisses over the soft skin of his pulse.
Your quirk flares alive and before Tomura gets to catch on your intentions, his hands stand secured high against the headboard.
“What the…ow fuck!” He moans the moment your hand close over his length, pumping until he’s losing his breath, a ragged laugh scaping his jagged lips “fuck…you are an evil woman.”
“I should be proud if you say so.”
You accommodate over him, lowering until he fills you, pushing his previous release deeper into you.
Your pacing is torturingly slow and intense, soft moans and sweet whispers between languid kissed. Tomura watches hypnotized how your hips ride over the place you two connect, his crimson eyes half lidded as he lets you take him, before finally releasing your hold.
He touches you carefully this time, palming over the curve of your hipbone and your belly, index finger up as he wonders how deep is he, trying to feel himself from the outside, before pushing down to sink deeper into you, hitting the fragile spot where he makes you cry.
“I like you like this…” he speaks softly, looking you up from behind his eyelashes as you ride him slowly.
“How” your word is a whisper against his lips.
“Bare…” he rasps, his voice luring you into his embrace, spilling sweet nothing into his ear as he mumbles over and over again.
“My good girl…you are so good for me…”
This time you reach your peak softly. A sweet thing that fills you gently; walls fluttering around his oversensitive length while you keep rocking him until he stuffs you again, finally both falling back into the mattress side to side, already drifting into sleep, both tired and content.
A light touch catches your attention before falling unconscious. Tomura´s pinky hooks on yours as a silent plea, so you spill a peck over his shoulder before resting your temple on it, a sweet gesture that makes his heart tremble with fear and excitement for all the right reasons.
So, he does what he wants, sliding his arm under your neck and moving your head to rest on his chest. Over his heart he lays a fist for you to grip gently by the wrist before finally crowning you with soft kisses as the steady beat of his heart lulls you to dream.
Chapter 16 (soon)
#shigaraki x reader#tomura x reader#bnh fanfic#self insert#shigaraki tomura#tenko shimura#shigaraki x you
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*Waxing Gibbous
Pairing: Ezra + femNurse! Reader
Rating: Hard M / 18+ ONLY
* Warnings: None really, maybe more angst/ comfort
* Summary: You arrive on Central and begin your recoveries.
* Word Count: ~1500
*Part ONE* *Part TWO* *Part THREE* *Part FOUR* *Part FIVE* *Part SIX* *Part SEVEN*
PART EIGHT
If you had fled the Green moon even ten minutes later, Ezra would have died. That was the grim information relayed to you by the sling-back medic after he’d been rushed to a med cot, given high-flow oxygen and sedated. He was critically ill. You’d been told immediately upon arrival and quick assessment that once you reached the Pug you were going to be transferred directly to a teaching hospital on Central.You were faring a bit better, but not by much. Your shoulder had been cleaned and bandaged. As you were conscious, you were given supplemental oxygen through a nasal cannula.
The medic had attempted to press for some detail concerning how you’d both ended up in such states. Exhausted and struck numb, you’d simply shrugged and moved to rearrange the intravenous line of lactated ringer’s solution going into the catheter inserted into the top of your forearm. The machine had started beeping, and the sound was like a hammer to your skull.
Once you reached the Pug things moved quickly indeed. Transport was coordinated in the Pug med bay and a nurse approached you, stating that she would be taking you into an exam room to obtain an updated set of vitals and enter your information into their data system. You had refused.
“I’m not leaving him.”
Clearing his throat, the nurse tried to explain the protocol he had to follow. You held up your hand to still his speech.
“Save it. You won’t change my mind. I’m not leaving him.”
***
Once on the transport you’d been able to keep your eyes open for perhaps twenty minutes. You’d passed out sitting on the hard metal bench with your head slumped forward onto Ezra’s cot, your hand clasping his.
***
Central was cacophonic. After the eerie quiet of the Green the sounds, chatter, colors and thrumming life surrounding you was beating into your brain like a staccato mace. Your head throbbed. You flinched away from the shoulders brushing past you. You were close to panic, overwhelmed by the sensory overload. You took deep, measured breaths. You stayed as close to Ezra’s cot as possible. You had to resist the urge to climb into it with him and throw a blanket over your head.
They were going to have to take Ezra away from you. You knew this logically. He was fragile. Needed intubation, needed close surveillance. He was most likely septic at this point and it was uncertain if the damage he’d suffered to his lung tissue would be permanent. You knew he might still die. You knew this, and you wept openly, pitifully.
“WAIT!” you’d croaked out, shakily grasping the shoulder of the ICU nurse who had begun rushing him down the hallway for STAT bloodwork.
She’d turned to you with sympathy shading her features.
You gazed at her name badge through waterfalls.
“....Mollen. That’s your name?”
A pause. “Yes,” she’d replied softly. You knew you needed to trust her.
“His feet get cold at night. Only at night, otherwise he says they’re like furnaces. He can’t sleep well if his feet aren’t covered. Please cover his feet. Please,” you’d choked.
She had given you a small, sad smile. “Of course.”
“Thank you, Mollen.”
You had stood pathetically twisting your hands together with tears coursing unabashed until Ezra turned a corner and disappeared from you.
***
“Prognosis is precarious,” One of the physicians had pulled you into a private room to go over findings with you. You had since been seen and treated; miraculously you had not needed surgery, though you would most likely have permanent nerve damage to your thumb and two fingers on your left hand. You’d been told that you’d most likely be in the hospital for a week or two; you needed IV antibiotics and respiratory therapy in addition to wound care.
You’d requested a private room as close to the ICU as possible, passing a piece of aurelac to the Intake Administrator. He’d accepted with wide eyes, and you’d gotten your room.
The doctor was solemn as she looked over the rims of her glasses at you.
“Your partner has diffuse opacities in the lower lobes of his lungs. The left is partially collapsed. We’ve intubated him, as you know, to allow his lungs time to rest and strengthen. He is septic, and he’s being treated with an experimental cocktail of three different antibiotics, dexamethasone for inflammation, and vasopressors to maintain his blood pressure.
“Fortunately, his body is strong and his kidney function is improving. He has remained without a fever for the past eight hours, so that is reassuring. If he continues to show improvement I am fairly confident that we can begin planning for extubation within the next two to three days. If he can tolerate extubation and begin breathing on his own, we can start weaning his oxygen and begin to wake him up.”
Though you knew what you were walking into, you steeled yourself.
You entered his room and stood a moment to process the sheer enormity of the amount
of medical equipment keeping Ezra alive. You took in the tubes and wires, the bags of
fluid infusing through catheters, the softly beeping sensors. When you were not in your
room or engaged in your own treatments, you were here. You pulled up the chair that
Mollen had placed especially for you, and you began your silent vigil once again.
Ezra looked so small in that bed, so fragile. He was dwarfed by the machinations
surrounding him. He was pale, wan. As you always did, you grasped his hand and
squeezed, ran your thumb over his knuckles the way he’d once done with you.
you talked to him softly, describing the room, going over what had happened since you
had escaped the Green. You talked about your own treatments and progress. You
described Central, how busy and bustling everything was, how many people flooded the
streets each day. Theatres you’d seen across from your window, coffee shops and
bars you wanted to explore with him. Your favorite activity was reading to him. You had
spent a great deal discussing all manner of art, and Ezra loved to talk about books both
well-loved and those he longed to read but had been unable to find. As you found
yourself in the incomprehensible position of having more credits than you could ever
imagine possessing, you had books delivered to your room.
Ezra was extubated the day you received your last dose of antibiotics. You were due to
be discharged in three days. His organ function had improved at a rate that had exceeded
the expectations of his medical team. His encyclopedic list of medications had shortened reassuringly. He was strong enough to tolerate the extubation and was transitioned to a nasal cannula. You rejoiced in this, though your anxiety spiked as the physicians began the arduous task of bringing him out of sedation. It did not happen all at once as many thought, but gradually and in increments. It happened in sighs and twitches, thrashes and groans. You wondered if he dreamed. You hoped that he could hear you repeat your devotions.
You had secured a lease downtown, finding a loft a block from the hospital. It was spacious, covered in windows that stretched, floor to ceiling, and opened onto a balcony that afforded you a breathless view of Central. You had never had something so nice in your life.
You had been discharged for two days, you had started to plan how to turn your new space into a safe space for both you and Ezra, when you were alerted by the hospital that Ezra had awakened. He was asking for you.
You doubt if your feet touched the ground as you rushed to the hospital, stopping only to catch your breath.
You entered his room panting, vibrating.
Ezra was sitting upright, the first time you’d seen him not supine in weeks. He was pale, he sported dark and sunken circles under his eyes. His hair was wildly curling, his blond streak sticking straight out. He was sipping gingerly on a cup of water with a shaking hand.
Your Ezra. Beautiful Ezra.
“.....Ez?”
He looked upon you as if you were an apparition. He went to move shakily to his feet, and you were there before he could stand. Enveloping him in your arms, kissing his face, feeling him and inhaling whatever you could of him, of his vibrant life.
Alive.
You realized you were both weeping, you chuckled as you took turns wiping the wetness from one another’s face. When he spoke, his voice was rough, you knew it would take time for Ezra to regain his mellifluous cadence.
“Beautiful star, our souls cannot escape one another, universe try as it might to tear us asunder.”
“I missed you, Ezra. Sweet love, I’m never letting you out of my sight ever again. Ever.”
“I wish you luck trying to part from me at this point, Dove.”
You knew you’d done something right, standing against him.
You knew you were home.
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Buffet Froid
1x10
Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham
Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist
Word Count: 3k
Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, dead bodies, mental health problems
Author’s Note: The art of making it look like i like hannibal when he annoyed the fuck out of me this episode. Also it is so hard to write this cause my HEART i just wanna hug will UGH
I took lines directly from the script so some may seem familiar. Those sentences are not mine.
Official Episode Summary : Two victims' faces are similarly mutilated. For the first time, Will contaminates a crime scene thinking he committed the first murder and an MRI shows he suffers from Advanced Encephalitis.
I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director
Tag List: @llperfectsymmetryll
(not my gif)
You sat in the car. You were outside of a crime scene, the house looking ominous as it loomed over what had happened inside. There were so many people outside, taking pictures and talking. Will was inside. You had driven him, per his request. You usually didn’t come to the crime scenes but they had been acting off, like he was almost on autopilot when he asked you to take him. Your fingers drummed on the steering wheel as you stared out, trying to catch glimpses of people you knew.
You saw Bev walk out quickly making her way to the car. You rolled down the window and she shook her head a bit as she walked up.
“You should go talk to Will,” she said.
“What happened?” Bev looked back at the house, at Jack who had just exited the house. You looked at her, the worried look on her face evident.
“He contaminated the crime scene. He’s never done that before,” Beverly said. “His hands were around her throat.”
You were surprised to hear that, rightly so. You unlocked the car and got out, walking across the yard beside Beverly who was quick to give anyone a look that even thought about protesting to your presence. Will had come out when you weren’t looking. He was talking to Jack.
“I got lost in the reconstruction. Just for a second. Just a blink,” Will was saying as you walked up to him. Jack barley took notice of your presence but Will looked at you, surprised to see you there by his eyes. He didn’t protest it though. You knew before he could tell you. He had lost some time.
“I know you don’t like to be a subject of concern, but consider me officially concerned,” Jack said. You scoffed and Jack glanced at you but didn’t show any emotion.
“Officially,” Will said.
“About time,” you muttered.
“Wait in the car,” Jack said to you. You raised your hands in defiance.
“I’m here on a warning from Beverly,” you said, glancing at Will. He shook his head.
“I’ll be there soon,” he muttered. You nodded and he reached out to grab your hand and for a second he held it, quietly, looking confused and worried and scared. Your hand slipped from his and you walked over to the car.
“Thought the reason you have me seeing Dr. Lecter and not an FBI psychiatrist is so my mental well-being stays unofficial,” Will muttered, watching you go.
“Have I broken you?” Jack asked. “Is your girlfriend right this time?”
“Do you have anybody that does this better unbroken then I do broken?” Will asked. “And she’s always right.”
“Fear makes you rude, Will,” Jack said as Will walked to the car. His hands shook. He always seemed to be shaking. He stooped at the drivers window and you looked at him, elbow resting on the open window and your hand propped up by your palm.
“We should go to Hannibal after this,” you muttered.
“Why are you here?” he asked. It wasn’t rude. He was only asking.
“You asked me to drive you.” He nodded, glancing back at the house. “I have to look at the body again.” A beat of silence.
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Gutting a fish,” he whispered. You nodded. He had gone fishing yesterday though.
“We’ll go to Hannibal’s together.”
“Sit in,” he whispered, referring to the session.
“I will.” He nodded and walked back to the house. You fought the tears threatening to fall from seeing him in so much confusion.
-
“I can’t remember seeing her dead body before I saw myself killing her,” Will said. He glanced at you sheepishly. You sat on Hannibal’s desk which was your resident spot when you sat into sessions. You didn’t do it often and you only did it with Will’s request or permission. He wanted a witness today, to whatever it is that Hannibal had prepared for him.
“Those memories sank out of sight, yet you’re aware of their absence,” Hannibal inquired. Will was pacing around the room, his mind on fire.
“They left a slick on the surface of my mind where they’re supposed to be,” he said.
“Where you hope they’re supposed to be, but fear they never were.” Will looked haunted. The false memories made him reel. The dying human under his hands had felt so real.
“There’s a grandiosity in the violence I imagined that feels more real than what I knew is true,” he said.
“What do you know to be true?” Hannibal asked.
“I know I didn’t kill her. Couldn’t have. But I remember cutting into her. I remember watching her die.”
“You must overcome these delusions that are disguising your reality. What savage delusions does this killer have?” Hannibal questioned. He was walking around the room as well, but in smaller spaces.
“It wasn’t savage. It was lonely...desperate...sad,” Will said, his eyes glossed over.
“Are you lonely Will?” Hannibal asked. Will shook his head then paused. Your heart sank and you hung off his answer.
“No. That was the killer,” he said. “But I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked through me, past me. Like I was a stranger,” he whispered.
“What could this be? It has to be something that we can treat,” you said. Will looked at you and nodded.
“It could be a blood clot. Or a tumor. Just an answer is better than anything,” Will said. Hannibal glanced at you and Will as you stared at each other, nodding in agreement. Your emotions hung off Will’s. It didn’t matter if you were an empath or not. You knew Will well enough to know when enough was enough.
“I can recommend a neurologist. But if it isn’t physiological then you have to accept what you’re struggling with is mental illness,” Hannibal said.
“It isn’t,” you whispered.
Hannibal looked only at you as you seemed to bore holes into the ceiling now. You had a dangerous knowledge of Will Graham. Hannibal thought that might be a problem.
-
You were with Hannibal and Will into the medical office. You held Will’s hand and he held yours like a lifeline. You sat at chairs beside each other that happened to be far enough away where his hand slipped out of yours. He held them now in his lap, fingers fidgeting.
“What did the headaches start? In earnest?” Dr. Sutcliffe asked. Will glanced at you.
“Two to three months ago,” Will said and you nodded in agreement.
“About the time Will went back into the field,” you said.
“When I met him,” Hannibal added.
“The hallucinations?” Sutcliffe asked.
“I don’t know exactly when they started. I just slowly became aware that I might not be dreaming.”
Hannibal walked with Sutcliffe behind a large piece of glass. You stayed with Will for a few minutes, taking his clothes in his hand as he put on the hospital dress. He let out a small sigh as you looked at him.
“What if nothing comes up?” he asked.
“We’ll deal with that when it comes.”
Will looked at you and you looked at him. He was ready to go but he waited. Eyes glancing around your body wildey.
“If nothing comes up than I am, by definition, likely insane,” he told you quietly. “And if-”
“I’m not going to go anywhere,” you said. Will looked broken. He looked tired. You grabbed his hand and brought it to your lips, kissing the back of it. “I love you.”
His breath seemed to relax. He knew you but he wasn’t sure that when he woke up you would be gone. He might be seriously ill but knowing you were there still made him feel better.
“I love you too.” You kissed him and he kissed you back desperately.
“Go get your brain scanned now. You have lipstick on your lips,” you said as you pulled away. He laughed very subtly adn shrugged, wiping it off with his hand.
“I don’t think it’ll mess up the results.”
“You never know.”
-
You stood beside Will again before the doctor. He pointed to the brain scan.
“We didn’t find anything abnormal. No vascular malformations, no tumors. No swelling or bleeding. No evidence of stroke. Nothing wrong with you neurologically,” the doctor said. Will’s face was clearly troubled. “Usually when I tell a patient that, they’re happy to hear it.”
“So... what I’m experiencing is psychological?” Will asked.
“Brain scans can’t diagnose a mental disorder. They can only rule out medical illnesses, like a tumor, that can cause similar symptoms.”
“And there’s no chance you’ve mixed up the photos? Or maybe the machine was malfunctioning? I hear that happens,” you said stiffly.
“Y/N,” Will muttered but you shook your head.
“We can do more tests if it’ll make you feel better. Take some blood samples, but I imagine they'll be just as inconclusive.”
For some reason you doubted the truth in that but you didn’t voice it.
-
You walked into Jack Crawford's office. He took off his glasses and looked up at you, clearly not excited to see you.
“Does Will need something?” Jack asked.
“Stability. A new brain perhaps,” you said. Jack looked you up and down and he knew that you meant business.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, voice monotone.
“Will’s always been a bit odd. Always. It was what drew me to him in the first place,” you said.
“Listen-”
“Shut up.” He shut up. “When Will went back into the field it was because you wanted him to. Will wants to please people. He wants to save lives. He wants to use his gift for good but for each life he saves a little piece of him is burned and singed. You broke Will Jack Crawford and I won’t let you forget it,” you said evenly, looking down at him.
“Do you have a life outside of Will Graham?”
“I did before you broke him and now I have to advocate where he cannot.”
“We were never going to be friends,” Jack said.
“No, no we weren’t.”
-
Come midnight when Will hadn’t arrived home you woke up. You were getting a suspicious amount of sleep. You had gone to bed, assuming he would be back soon after you fell asleep. Jack sometimes had him out late hours and he was likely to be back. But when you woke up and he was still gone you started to panic a bit.
You calmed yourself, trying to reason that he was maybe still at work. You called his cell. No answer.
You got up out of bed and put on some clothes. With him sleepwalking, losing time, he could be anywhere. You told yourself to add a tracker to his phone.
You got into the car and drove the streets for a few minutes. He wasn’t there. You then drove to Hannibal’s which was the only other place your mind could come up with. You knocked on the door at about 12:30, shaking from the cold and worry. It took Hannibal a moment to come to the door but he eventually did, wearing his robe and rubbing his eyes.
“I thought you were Will,” he admitted.
“Will hasn’t come home yet. He won’t pick up the phone but I’m guessing he’s not here,” you said, looking past him.
“Have you tried the crime scene?” he questioned. You shook your head but that must be where he was. It had to be.
“No but I’ll go there now. I’m sorry to wake you.”
“Don’t apologize.” He was about to shut the door when you turned around but he stopped. “He’ll be there. I’m sure your expertise in finding strays will help,” Hannibal said simply. You nodded and walked back to the car.
On your way there you got a call from Will.
“Where the f-”
“I just sent you the address. Come quickly.” He hung up and you did as you were told, driving faster to the destination you were already going to. You were there in under ten minutes from where you had been on your drive and you got out, walking quickly up to Will.
“I thought you were dead!” you yelled, throwing your arms around him. He shook his head but let you hold him.
“Not yet,” he muttered. “I called Beverly to help me figure out the crime scene,” he said.
“Then why did you tell me to come?”
“Emotional support.” You nodded and held him tighter.
-
You woke up with a start. Will was thrashing beside you and you put your arm on his side instinctively. You couldn’t tell what had woken you up. It could be anything. The weather, your dreams but you felt like it was something out. You looked around for any disturbances. The dogs were still sleeping but you got up and looked around, trying to find what had woken you.
You walked through the kitchen and the downstairs but you couldn’t find anything. When you were back in the bedroom Will was awake, standing up.
“Where did you go?” he asked.
“Something woke me up. I was trying to figure out what.” You walked back over to him and back into bed.
“Probably wind,” he muttered. You put your arms around him as he got back in too and he put his head on your chest. You kissed his curls.
“Probably,” you whispered.
-
Will went in for more tests a few days later. He looked up at you as you stood in the same spots you had, with you holding his clothes as he stripped them.
“Jack talked to me,” he said.
“Proceed with caution,” you whispered and he chuckled.
“He thinks I stayed in the job because of the stability. That Jack created stability for me, a foundation.”
“If he keeps going on like that you’re going to be investigating his murder,” you muttered bitterly. “Would you still date me if I murdered someone?” He shrugged.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you did. I mean, I’d have to consider it.”
“Wrong answer Graham,” you said laughing lightly. He loved these moments. Moments where it was just laughing, joking.
“I would date you if you killed someone. I mean I might have to turn you in but prison can’t be that hard on a relationship,” he said. You nodded.
“Right back at you bubba,” you whispered.
“I have killed someone.”
“And look at you, still a free man.”
After the tests Will walked around, trying to find you or the doctor or someone. You were waiting for him and you walked up with his clothes in hand.
“Have you seen Sutcliffe?” Will asked. You shook your head.
“Not since earlier,” you admitted. “Let’s go find him.” You held his clothes in hand as you walked through the hospital. You peaked in rooms and eventually found Sutcliffes office. You pushed open the door as it was ajar.
You gasped and Will grabbed you and put himself between you and the body, bleeding from a chunk that had been taken out of his face.
“Don’t look,” he whispered.
“I can,” you muttered. “Call Bev.”
-
The FBI came soon after. Beverly gave Will a look over, Jack concerned he might have had something to do with the murdedr.
“He was with me until he went in. And I would have seen him leave,” you promised. Bev nodded.
“You’re clean. You couldn’t have done this without getting something on you and there’s nothing on you,” Beverly said.
“I don’t feel clean,” Will whispered.
“Murder weapon has the same diseased or damaged tissue on it that we found at Beth LeBeau’s house,” Jimmy explained aloud.
“What connection does this guy have to the first victim?” Will let out a sigh.
“Just me.”
-
Will woke up and you were already sitting up. He followed your gaze that was at where one of the dogs growled at something under the bed. He grabbed your hand and shook his head.
‘Stay,’ he whispered. You shook your head vigorously and he nodded, getting off the bed and looking underneath. He slid underneath and you leaned your head over the bed, heart pounding in your ears.
“I see you, Georgia,” Will said under the bed. You couldn't see his face. There was a woman under your bed. “Think of who you are. It’s midnight. You’re in Wolf Trap, Virginia. Your name is Georgia Madchen. You are not alone.”
“Am I alive…?” came a voice, a raspy whisper. Will nodded.
-
You stood with Will in the hospital room, looking down at the living body of the woman who had slept under your bed. You held Will’s hand as he glanced over her.
“She’ll recover,” Will said.
“Hopefully she’ll stay out of our bed,” you whispered.
1x11
#will graham x reader#will graham imagines#hannibal imagines#hannibal lecter x reader#hannibal lecter imagines#hannibal lecter x reader x will graham#will graham x reader x hannibal lecter
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oooh could you do protective headcanons for the golden deer too??🥺
{I most certainly can. Y’all know I love these tropes so keep ‘em coming. Hope it’s to your liking! :3}
Claude:
6/10
Neutral, with just a tad bit of nerves.
Look. Claude has bigger fish to fry than what you’re gallivanting on about during the day. The man has a dream to catch with literally a country and 1/3 (woot woot alliance) on his shoulders.
First, the future. Then, you. Can’t have a life together if there is no place for it to be had, yeah?
This doesn’t mean that he never worries about you. Quite the contrary, if he begins then he can’t stop. So he doesn’t tinker the thought.
Instead he has his most trusted allies at your back. During the Academy days you were left under Hilda’s watchful eye, and during the war you are always nearby (courtesy of matchmaker Prof.Byleth)
Once he puts a ring on it you’ll have guards. No problem.
He also trusts your own capabilities. One doesn’t train every day to walk out with nothing
Also
You make me laugh if you think Claude believes you’ll ever cheat on him
Not that he’s cocky okay, maybe a bit but no one would dare put the moves on “The Master Tactician’s” s/o
Any suitor coming your way is peasant fodder. If not to him, than to your own personal retaliation.
Yupp, nothing to worry about. You’ve got it covered. He’ll only step in if you physically come ask him
and with a bit of teasing he’ll comply
However, Claude is very sensitive to illness for obvious reasons. This is why he’s listed at a six. He always insists on tasting your food
It was a gimmick at first, and in the beginning he’d make banter to sneak a bite while you remain all unknowing of his true intentions
He’ll be damned if someone ever poisons you. They won’t ever get the chance
Ignatz:
9/10
Let us face it. Iggy is a worry-wart.
He freaks out over the most minuscule of situations. The poor lad nearly gets a heart attack at least once a day
And no, i’m not just referring to his pre-timeskip self. Ignatz may have grown a head taller, got a backbone, fancy harem artist pants--but no, he did not lose his inner anxious zealot. That trait will cling until the day he dies sadly
Having you at his side only makes things worse (in a good way. The trouble is worth it to him)
Especially if you’re more of the risky sort. Expect him to mother hen if you cause ruckus around the monastery. He can and will lecture you to death (only to apologize and hide away after)
Now not only does he worry about his own issues, but also yours. I swear Ignatz acts like you are his second being. If someone scolds you, hurts you, etc. he acts like they did it to him
Can be a bit dramatic, not gonna lie. He gets so worked up that his ears go red. Like, you can just t e l l he’s holding so much back because he doesn’t want to go too far
Don’t even get me started on if someone tries to make a move on you
He becomes t o r n. It isn’t his place to tell you who to hang around, but ohmygodwhatifyourealizeheisn’tgoodenough
iggy no, bad iggy. don’t think like that
He feels threatened so easily and not many would peg him the jealous type. He is, but hides it very well.
If need be he will talk out his feelings with you. That’s something noteworthy of Ignatz: he uses his words. He may find communicating such thoughts aloud difficult, but if he truly is concerned then he will be honest with you.
Raphael:
10/10
Raphael believes in trust. He expects you to be honest and to not keep anything important secret. In return he’ll do the same.
This is why he doesn’t care if someone is flirting. He could give less of a thought on gossip, rumors, or anything really. That effort can go towards training
He truly, honest to Sothis, trusts you with all his heart. There isn’t any time to spend doing otherwise. Raph just wants to live happily and that means having you by his side
Nor does he feel intimidated by anyone else either. I’m not saying that he reeks of resolved confidence, but Raph believes that you love him. Love topples any mindless flirting that other people throw your way
but let’s get one thing straight
If anybody, and I mean ANYBODY, tries to hurt you
This guy’s having them for b r e a k f a s t. Pounded, sliced, and Smoked. The same way he liked his bacon.
You are his family. Raphael protects his family, and those he cares about.
You will never be alone. Goddess if you cry and someone else is the cause then he will take action. One fault of Raph is that while he’s a sweetie, he doesn’t think before acting a lot. Similar to Caspar, he just goes for it
It takes a lot to get underneath Raph’s skin.
In short: do not f*ck with his loved ones. He would take on Nemisis himself mono-e-mono if it meant protecting them
Lorenz:
8/10
Y’all going to sit there and try to convince me that Lorenz Hellman Gloucester doesn’t try to establish dominance?
Key word: try
He’s quickly shut down
“Lorenz if you tell one more person that we’re betrothed, I swear that I’ll shave off your eyebrows” - You, one month post-confession
Saying that you’re his perfect match is no excuse. Considering all the preaching he does on noble humility, you’d think he would want your private affairs off the notice board?
It doesn’t take long for your peers to start complaining. Claude finds his behavior entertaining, but not a day goes by that someone doesn’t beg you to make him shut up
Lorenz is also a bit old fashioned. He doesn’t like the idea of you fighting more than necessary
Once again, shut down
Best way to deal with Lorenz is to let him think he has his way, then just do whatever. He gets upset, pouts, spouts his normal lecture, but then relents. All in due process with him
Never thought I’d say this, but perhaps requesting not to be in the same troop together is the best option? You’d think he would fight better with an S tier relationship at his side? Nahhh. HE TAKES YOUR KILLS IT IS NOT FAIR
He gives too much attention to what you’re doing, and not the enemy. Best if you stay separated
Ugh pray no one hits on you in front of him. Just... *screams* I don’t think anyone will, just to avoid him getting defensive. I swear the other deer take extensive preventative measures to avoid it.
Hilda:
6/10
C’mon. This is Hilda we’re talking about
You two most likely grew closer because she “asks” you for help so often
Just like Claude, she has bigger fish to fry. The last type of person she wants to be is Holst (she loves him though don’t misinterpret that)
She does worry though
Not enough to make her take the front lines, but a smidgen. Just to where you’ll get periodic check in’s
Nothing obvious. A simple “what’s going on?” as she inquired about your well-being
A precarious scan-over as she checks for any new scars
She does get jealous though. There’s an entire castle full of available people and someone chooses to flirt with you?
That just doesn’t make sense. Perhaps the “once something is taken it becomes more desirable,” saying has some truth
She’s quite the clinger. You’ll just be walking and suddenly, BOOM, bubble-gum pink arm-candy in the corner of your vision
Once you two bypass the ‘puppy-love’ early stages, she changes.
Despite her negligence beforehand, she does become overprotective
Will fight if needed. Say you have a paralogue? Just so happens she was nearby and wants to tag along
She also has to protect you from Holst. My dear, you cannot do that yourself. Brotherly wrath beseeches you, my god. Run dude run
Marianne:
3/10
A possessive streak is nonexistent in her blood. Such thing is a personal fear of her’s. Marianne refuses to conform to the stereotypes associated with her crest
However, she does believe that one day you may leave her side. Marianne isn’t the most confident person. She...doubts
Often does she wonder if you’re there solely to make her hurt. To love her and then one day disappear without a trace
Anxieties like so will not go away overnight. She will not seek reassurance, which makes her more uncommunicative than most partners
but no one is perfect. Neither are you. All you personally can do is politely decline any advances, and do your best to let Marianne know that you love her
She isn’t particularly protective in any other sense either. She’ll heal you if needed, but special attention isn’t there
Marianne treats being a healer like how an ER doctor operates. On the field, everyone is equal. She is needed everywhere and cannot stay by your side. Otherwise lives will be lost, and that won’t be good for her conscience.
The same goes for all other aspects. If you’re gone, then you’re gone. If you’re sick, then you’re sick. She cannot give you special attention and acts in accordance to severity of the situation. Patients cannot be weighed in value via personal bias
She has a surprisingly strong sense of self control, let me tell ya.
Lysithea:
7/10
She...does not have much time. Entering a romantic relationship was not a possibility that crossed her mind once before you
Why bother when the ending is certain? Why leave someone brokenhearted, or a widow? Why give herself that extra stress when she’s already under so much as it is?
You can’t blame her for being extra cautious. While her life may be hanging on a string, that doesn’t mean yours has to end
After some time she develops a resolve. If needed she would gladly lay her life down if it meant you could live another day
A problematic conclusion. You two will argue often over how she cannot trade a ‘life for a life,’ just because of her special circumstances. Her mind always enforces that it’s the logical decision, and has trouble recognizing her own value
I suppose that comes with being a know-it-all, huh? Once her mind is set then there is no changing it
Despite her brain sending all the signals that acting on jealousy is wrong...well, we know Lysithea
She won’t come out and say she gets protective for your sake. Apparently anyone flirting with you already had business with her
Business that miraculously unfolds once you leave. Then suddenly they no longer have an interest?
What’d she do? Threaten to shove a thoron up their rectum? No one knows
Leonie:
9/10
She is the mom who’d create a strict morning routine for her kids to follow before school
Or a thorough itinerary on a vacation
Not a moment or bullion to be wasted!
Cannot express enough how much this girl cares. She can become annoying from all the interference, but you’ll never become a bum with her in your life
You might want to ask her to butt out. Remind her that you’re not one of the kids from her village, and that you can handle yourself
Sometimes you’ll joke and say “yes mom,” because she gets b o s s y
Which will earn you either: a) a glare, or b) her playing along and confusing everyone else
So in a sense, yeah she’s protective. Overbearing in her own Leonie way
Not the jealous type. Leonie doesn’t look at what other people have, and instead focuses on her own life. If someone wants to shamelessly throw themselves at your feet then that’s their issue. You know better than to cheat on her
I can see her complaining to the captain or to Byleth though. Why waste time when the issue can easily be solved? Obviously someone with the time to flirt has time to do training drills
Bonus! Cyril: (because during my first play-through I kept expecting GD to take him under their wing. They did not, and Nintendo missed out.)
5/10
He personally hates being treated like a child. When someone doesn’t take him seriously Cyril’s self restraint goes b o o m
So he won’t do that to you. You’re a capable individual and that’s that. Nothing more for him to interfere with
His only protective streak lies when you’re incapable of doing things yourself. Aka: injured, ill, resting, etc.
He’ll nag you for not being careful, but it’s not hard to miss the tears pricking his eyes
He’s also very perceptive towards break-in’s. Many people have tried to kidnap/assassinate people of higher standing. He’s witnessed many attempts towards lady Rhea. I see him taking night shifts for patrol often, and after the war the habit sticks with him.
He takes a lot onto his shoulders often. It’s not bad. Being dedicated is an admirable trait, yet if you’re down someone will have to stop him from picking up the slack.
He’s no healer, and leaves that job to the professionals. However he doesn’t want anyone to disturb you with the work your missing. So he’ll do it in your stead
Manuela lets him stay in the infirmary past visitation hours. Mostly because he’s so busy during the day that he can’t come by
He won’t return to his room those nights. He prefers to be by your side, just in case.
Other than this type of situation- no, he’s not protective in the slightest.
#golden deer#fe3h#fe3h imagines#fe3h fanfic#fe3h scenarios#ignatz victor#ignatz x reader#Claude von Riegan#claude x reader#raphael kirsten#raphael x reader#lorenz hellman gloucester#lorenz x reader#hilda von goneril#hilda valentine goneril#hilda x reader#marianne von edmund#marianne x reader#lysithea von ordelia#lysithea x reader#cyril#cyril x reader#jfc i need a nap after this#aH#fire emblem#fire emblem scenarios#fire emblem x reader#fire emblem imagines#fe: three houses#leonie pinelli
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Fractured (part 3)
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Word Count: 5.9k
Pairing: Yoongi x Reader
Genre: Mafia AU, angst, fluff, (future) smut
Warnings: objectification, mentions of sex, guns, knives, murder, and death (non-graphic), mentions of blood (not gory, but it’s there several times), non-serious injury, depictions of mental illness in the form of: nightmares, self-loathing, anxiety
Rating: 18+
Summary: You’d always known something was strange and different about your “family,” but it wasn’t as though your environment encouraged curiosity from you. You thought you wanted to know all the answers, but nobody ever told you that the more you learned the more pieces of yourself you would leave behind.
A/N: Part 3 is here! This is going to be the last ‘introductory’ chapter before some more exciting things happen in the series. Let me know what you think!
Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!
--
It was cold.
Damp.
The floor beneath your feet was solid concrete, drops of water littering the floor, having fallen from the pipes above.
You were unarmed. Only a plain black t-shirt and cotton pants – why was this all you were wearing?
The cold air thoroughly chilled your bones, your teeth chattering together in your skull.
“Pay attention, bitch.” Before the voice even completed its sentence, the deafening boom of a gunshot rang through the room, bullet ricocheting off the wall behind you before clattering to the floor.
It was then that you took in your circumstances. You were standing in the middle of a circle of chairs, seated bodies facing you, faces blindfolded. Your heart stopped in your chest when you realized.
Seven chairs. Seven men. Bound around you as you were unarmed.
You rose your gaze to meet the eyes of a man you didn’t recognize, his pistol dangling at his side. Despite his laid-back demeanor, his men were behind him, and you knew without a doubt that you would surely die before you could even hope of making it to him.
“Choose.” His voice rang through the room, echoing off the bare stone walls.
You blinked in confusion, glancing at the men seated around you. Why was nobody struggling? Surely there wasn’t a tie in the world that could hold Hoseok, right?
Attempting not to show your anxiety, you cleared your throat. “Choose what?”
“Choose which one of your little boyfriends dies, and the rest of you can go free.”
You couldn’t hide the flash of panic on your face at his words, your gut twisting. “My boyfriends?” You schooled your voice, the carefully crafted cold mask returning to your face. You could only hope to stall until you found a way out of this situation.
“Aw, sweetheart, we both know they wouldn’t keep you around if they couldn’t put their dick in you, don’t we?”
Anger flared in your chest, quickly stamped down as you struggled to maintain neutral features. In the corner of your eye, you saw Jimin’s angry grimace, his body shifting beneath the ropes. You elected to ignore it, lest you draw unnecessary attention to him.
But it seemed that the man didn’t miss it.
“That one doesn’t like me talking about his slut, does he?” he laughed cruelly, pointing his gun at his direction.
Your heart rate rose exponentially in your chest. “We’re a family. Surely you understand – or do you not understand anything besides fucking?”
Stall. Stall. Stall.
But it appeared he chose to ignore your latter comment. “Oh, is that what they call it nowadays? My apologies, my lady,” he taunted, sending an ugly grin your way.
“Why are we here?” you deadpanned, eager to get on your way.
“You’re very hated out there, my dear,” he sung mockingly. “A certain someone paid me very generously to torment you, and I thought this seemed fun!”
“You’re insane,” you scowled, eyes darting around the room. But it seemed he did his research – there was only one visible entrance, and he was right in front of it. The distance between you and him was too great to get close enough to stand a fighting chance without weapons. Someone would surely die if you tried. If not you, one of the boys.
“Everyone’s insane in this business, sweetheart. Speaking of business, choose. Don’t think you can stall this out like you’ve been trying to do.”
You didn’t bother hiding your scowl. “Can’t I choose myself?”
“What good would that be? We both know dying is easy. Living with blood on your hands is a lot harder, don’t you think?”
He was right – but it didn’t change the fact that you would exchange your life for any of theirs in a heartbeat.
It didn’t seem like there was any way out of this. He wouldn’t really kill someone here – right?
Wrong.
You knew more than anyone how ruthless everyone in the world could be when it came to money.
He could kill all of you if he wanted.
But you were sure he knew that if he tried something too drastic you’d be able to take advantage of his distraction.
He was too smart to do anything besides what he said. And you were too desperate to try anything else.
You took in the sight of the men seated around you, some biting their bottom lip in an attempt to remain quiet. There was absolutely no way you could do this. Wasn’t there any way you could stall this out?
BANG.
You wouldn’t have known exactly what happened if not for Jimin’s loud scream, blood gushing from his shoulder from where the man had skillfully aimed. Wide-eyed, you had to keep yourself from springing towards him, though upon first glance it didn’t look like a deadly wound.
“You don’t have much longer before I get angry. Choose.”
“Hey.”
You only spun around to face everyone surrounding you, the helplessness washing over you, dread rising in your stomach. Was this a joke?
You paused when you spotted Yoongi mouthing something to you. He was sitting opposite the door, his back to the heartless man, who couldn’t see what he was doing. You stared as he moved his lips, trying to make out the words.
‘It’s okay.’
“Y/N!”
You had to stop the tears from rising to the surface. This wasn’t okay, and would never be okay.
“Particularly attached to that one, huh?”
Before you knew it, the gun was pointed to Yoongi’s head, the man’s chuckle punctuated by the pull of the trigger.
You let out an ear-piercing scream at the same time as the bang rung through the room, knees crashing to the concrete beneath you, your eyes too afraid to look up.
“Y/N!”
Your eyes flashed open at hands grasping your shoulders tightly enough to grate against the bone. Panting heavily, you shot your gaze around the room, heartbeat slowing as you took in the sight of Yoongi’s bedroom and not a windowless, concrete building.
“Hey. You’re safe.”
At the sound of a soothing voice, you fully realized the presence of another person as your senses started coming back to you. At his warm tone, you focused your blurry vision on Jimin’s face, blinking away unshed tears. His brow was furrowed, concern clear on his face.
“You were screaming.” When he realized you were fully awake, his grip on you lessened, but his hands remained in place as he took in the fear in your eyes and the trembling of your limbs. “Hey, are you with me?”
You nodded your assurance, closing your eyes to focus on evening out your breathing. “I’m okay,” you mumbled. Physically you knew you were, your body becoming more awake, feeling more under your control by the second. But you were shaken by what you saw, how real it seemed. How realistic it was.
Nobody appreciated the reminder that the people they loved could die at any moment.
Jimin waited patiently as you struggled to pull yourself together. This wasn’t the first time he’d found you like this, and it almost certainly wouldn’t be the last. He’s witnessed some of your lowest moments, after all. Jimin was arguably the softest and most attentive one in the house – with you guys, anyway. You’d never seen anyone who could flip a switch in the way Jimin did as soon as he stepped out into the field. You admired the way he allowed himself to let loose at home, but could be professional as soon as he stepped outside.
The way he fretted over everyone like a mother hen had endeared you to him since a time before you’d even started kindergarten.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he prodded gently once you’d opened your eyes, vision fixed on an empty spot on the wall to avoid his searching gaze.
You quickly shook your head, burying the mess of emotions deep within you, as though acting unbothered would will your anxiety out of existence. Despite receiving the same answer each time over the past few months and years, Jimin never failed to ask the same question. You both loved and hated him for it, to no fault of his own. You simply didn’t feel comfortable laying out all of your thoughts, and the vulnerability that came with it. Not when so much of your sanity relied upon your mask of indifference and focus on work.
Despite your refusal, he eyed you for several more seconds, hesitantly releasing you and seating himself beside you so that your shoulders were touching. In your peripheral vision you caught a glimpse of his conflicted expression. You couldn’t blame him – he did, you assume, come in here because your screaming was audible from the hallway. You would be concerned too, especially in a house where every room was made to be relatively private, sound-wise.
Images of that dream still floated through your mind, the last few seconds before you woke up playing on repeat again, and again, and again.
“Where’s Yoongi?” you asked, hoping to distract Jimin from your sorry state. But it appeared that your question was most definitely not the right way to go about that, because his concern only grew more noticeable.
“Yoongi-hyung...? He’s out tonight, remember? With Seokjinnie-hyung?” He stared at you incredulously.
Right.
You couldn’t believe it had slipped your mind – and neither could Jimin, apparently. His astonishment made sense, though. If there was one person in the house with laser focus on the job, it was probably you. It was easier that way – your work brain didn’t worry so much about what happened in the field.
But that meant you usually kept tabs on what everyone was doing, especially considering what they were doing was related to what you would be doing tomorrow. Especially considering you could barely sleep without knowing every one of them was back home and safe.
“Are you... sure you’re okay?” he asked at your lack of response.
“I’m fine... just wasn’t fully awake, you know?” you deflected, awkward chuckle falling from your lips. You were fine, right? Your mind was just a little bit too preoccupied to remember something. Something very important, and something that you usually never forgot, but it wasn’t that big of a deal.
But Jimin didn’t seem to think so, the disbelief clear on his face. But before he could open his mouth to say something, you spoke first.
“Do you ever have nightmares?” you asked simply, hugging your knees to your chest, wrapping yourself into a little ball. Of course, you knew the answer already, but a selfish part of you just wanted the reassurance that you weren’t alone in your experiences.
“Y/N...” he trailed off, tone sad. “I think we all do. You’re not alone here.”
“What do you do?”
That seemed to surprise him. The words slipped from you before you could stop them. For lack of better wording – you didn’t tend to initiate conversations about things that really mattered. Things that were important to you personally, things that weren’t surface-level or work-related. Perhaps waking up after an awful dream next to a person rather than your usual empty room brought forth an unusual vulnerability.
He seemed to ponder over a response, taking his time before answering. “I talk about it.” He had decided to answer honestly, cringing inwardly at the answer, knowing how much you avoided talking about your problems with anyone.
You deflated almost imperceptively at his answer, though you were sure he noticed. You didn’t know what you were expecting, and didn’t know why you were disappointed. Did you really think Jimin would have some secret to help you?
No – he just wasn’t a coward like you were.
“Y/N, I know things are a lot harder for you than everyone else-”
“They’re not,” you interjected.
“They are. Everyone else grew up knowing what this house was from birth. But you? They let you become a person and then forcefully replaced you with another version of yourself later. Us? This is all we ever were.” There was a trace of bitterness in his tone, one you chose not to comment on. “I don’t know why they waited so long to tell you. Maybe that’s the reason you’re so-”
He cut himself off before he could finish the sentence, grimacing slightly at his uncontrolled babbling.
But it didn’t take a genius to understand where he was going with that thought.
“So what?” Fucked up? Broken? You weren’t sure you wanted to know what he was going to finish that sentence with.
“Never mind,” he sighed, taking a deep breath before changing the subject. “I was supposed to come get you anyway. Yoongi-hyung told me to make you eat once you woke up.”
“He told you to make me eat?” you mumbled, slightly affronted, but amused nonetheless. Your comment seemed to break the tension in the room, Jimin breathing a laugh at your reaction.
“You know how he is,” he grinned. “But anyway, come join us. Taehyungie is downstairs waiting for me already. Said he wants to watch The Office or something.”
You knew you should eat something, but you really didn’t have much of an appetite after everything. Perhaps being punched in the gut and then dreaming of your family’s death by your hand will do that.
Noticing your hesitation, however, Jimin piped back up. “Please? I think it would help. For me?”
You knew you were helpless the moment he fixed his pleading stare onto your face. Nobody could ever deny that man anything, and you were more than certain he knew that. You were lucky he wasn’t using his powers for worse things than convincing someone who needs food that they need to eat.
Rather than respond, you simply let out an exaggerated sigh, pretending you didn’t know that he was definitely correct. Besides, if there was anyone who could take your mind off things, it was definitely Jimin and Taehyung. On their own you’d almost mistake them for any other 20-something year old, but together they were their own brand of chaos. Chaos that never failed to brighten the mood.
You made to hop off the bed, planning on throwing out an “if I have to” once you did, but it appeared that you’d been so focused on your mental state that your physical one completely slipped your mind.
Not expecting your legs to be so weak, you lost your balance almost immediately, saved from an embarrassing potential fall by Jimin’s quick reflexes. He stood beside you, a hand on your shoulder, luckily not fussing over you too much.
“Hm, Jungkookie didn’t tell me he messed you up that much,” he teased, though you thought there was an ounce of concern somewhere in there.
You scoffed. “I’m fine, I just forgot how sore I was.” You shrugged off his hand, taking a few pained steps towards the door, hiding a grimace at the scream of your muscles. “And Jungkook did not do this to me, by the way,” you added, unwilling to let Jimin prance around the house thinking Jungkook was able to beat the living shit out of you. Even if it was partially true.
As amusing at it was to watch you unintentionally walk around like a newborn lamb, Jimin couldn’t help his wince at the sight. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”
“Let’s go eat, Jimin.”
--
As expected, dinner and sitcoms with the Chaos Pair (as you and Hoseok liked to fondly refer to them) did wonders to improve your mood. Seokjin had so kindly made some sort of stir-fry before leaving with Yoongi, meaning all you three had to do was warm up some food before settling down on the couch.
But that was several hours ago. It had to be past midnight, and you knew what Yoongi and Seokjin needed to do tonight wasn’t something that should have taken too long. In fact, scouting out the meeting place for tomorrow shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour or an hour at most – any longer and getting seen was too risky.
You couldn’t help but let your mind wander, wondering what could have held them up so much. Surely nothing could have happened, especially when the plan for today wasn’t even that dangerous – right?
Captured within your own thoughts, not absorbing what was on the screen, the transition to the ending credits snapped you out of it. You spoke out before Taehyung could click the next episode button for the nth time that night.
“Hey... do you guys know what’s happening with Yoongi and Jin?” You tried to make the question sound casual and nonchalant, but each of the boys were well-versed in your worry any time work didn’t go according to plan – especially when you were at home while others were out. It was a silent but well-known fact that you were almost always the last to bed on mission days, your body only relaxing enough to sleep once you knew everyone was home safe.
“I’m sure they’re fine, Y/N,” Jimin was quick to reassure you from the opposite end of the couch. “Coming back late isn’t that strange here, you know.”
“Right. This is Yoongi-hyung and Jin-hyung we’re talking about here, remember?” Taehyung added, slinging an arm around your shoulder from his place beside you. “Besides, Yoongi-hyung is a master at doing stuff quickly and quietly. I bet they were done in like 20 minutes and they’re out eating or something.”
“Without any update?” you replied, skepticism clear in your tone. “Not even an ‘all done, see you guys later,’ nothing?”
“Just think about it this way, Y/N,” said Jimin, matter-of-factly. “Even if something went wrong, isn’t it better to have no news at all than for us to know something?”
As much as you wanted to argue the nuances of that statement, you knew in general, he was right. If they were captured, you’re sure Namjoon would have heard something about it by now. People were too impatient in this line of work to wait before leveraging whatever bargaining chip they had – especially when it wouldn’t be unheard of for them to lose their chance before it could be used. And if they were killed? News of such a thing would have spread even faster, considering their status as the two oldest sons.
Jimin was right, in a way – you could be fairly confident that whatever was happening, they were at least alive.
But that didn’t stop you from worrying. Some things were worse than death.
“You’re right, I guess,” you conceded, though you certainly didn’t sound happy about it.
When nobody made to speak further, Taehyung hit play, and you tried your best to focus on the show.
And you did. For another hour, with no word from anyone, and still no Yoongi or Seokjin in the house.
As much as you wanted so badly to call them and demand what was taking up their time, you already knew such a thing wasn’t possible. You knew that by now, if they had time, they would have called you already.
All there was left to do was wait, and you were not a patient person.
You didn’t even realize how much you were fidgeting until Taehyung reached out a hand to rest on your shoulder, the other moving to pause the episode.
“Y/N.” Taehyung’s voice was firm. “Don’t worry so much, they’ll be fine. I think you should sleep.”
“You should,” Jimin agreed. “Don’t you guys have to leave early tomorrow?”
You made a noncommittal noise in response. As much as your muscles screamed with exhaustion, as much as your mind probably needed rest, you knew you wouldn’t be capable of sleep. Not when the last time you’d slept wrought you so much terror, and definitely not before everyone was accounted for.
But you couldn’t focus on the show, and as much as you loved them, you didn’t think you could sit there any longer and hear the same reassurances from Jimin and Taehyung. It wasn’t their fault – you knew they wanted you to feel some peace of mind, but there was only so much that could be said when dealing with very real danger. And at the same time, you felt bad for making them fuss over you.
“I think... I think I’m going to head upstairs. Sorry I couldn’t be very good company,” you said, wincing as you stood supporting your own weight, the dull pain in your abdomen and calves protesting.
They were quick to claim otherwise, each of them reaching out to give your arm a gentle squeeze. As you made your way to the staircase, you could hear their quiet whispers from the couch, though you couldn’t make out their words. You would bet that they were probably discussing Yoongi and Seokjin’s absence, too considerate to worry you further while you were still there.
When you reached the landing upstairs, you were fully planning to head to your own room, lounging in bed, phone in hand until either the boys came home or you passed out from sheer exhaustion. But this late at night, you didn’t expect to see the strip of light coming from beneath Namjoon’s door. Perhaps distracting yourself with work would be your best bet to shift your focus.
You were knocking on his door before you were even fully aware you’d made the decision, entering when a tired voice called for you to come in.
When he saw it was you, he gave you a kind smile from where he was seated at his desk, though the fatigue in it was clear. But you supposed you weren’t one to talk.
“Everything okay?” he asked easily, spinning around on his clear until he was facing you fully. On his desk you could see almost a dozen open folders, sheets scattered around – work-related, no doubt. You were positive there was some kind of method to the madness, though. This was Namjoon, after all.
Though he liked to deny it, Namjoon was something of the leader in the house now that everyone’s parents no longer lived there full-time. Like true important individuals, they lived off in vacation homes now that their children were fully grown and fully capable of doing every bit of dirty work for them. They stopped by sometimes since much of the important technology (read: weapons) and paperwork were here, but for the most part, once night fell you guys were on your own. Not that the 8 of you really had any say in what you’d be doing despite being mostly alone – you were independent in name only, and you didn’t doubt that the parents were keeping tabs on everyone anyway. Namjoon’s father proved that earlier.
Being the son of the head of the entire “operation,” most communications came to Namjoon to relay to the rest of you. Despite never volunteering for such a thing, his father liked to work him to the bone. In watching their interactions, you’d hardly be able to tell they were family – Namjoon’s father treated him more as a servant than anything. As much as he claimed he didn’t mind, the work definitely took a toll on him. The fact that he was alone in his room working at what must be around 3 am was evidence enough.
“I was hoping to talk to you about tomorrow...” you began unsurely. “But if you’re busy, it’s fine. It’s not that important anyway.”
You hated to intrude and ask him to talk about work when he was already clearly so swamped, but in all likelihood what he was doing was about your next task anyway.
“Actually, it’s good that you’re here. I think if I look at these papers any longer, I’m gonna go insane. Talking has always been better for me, anyway,” he replied, and you visibly perked up at the realization that your presence was desired rather than simply tolerated.
“All that stuff is about tomorrow?” you questioned, making your way over to sit cross-legged at the end of his bed. Now that you were closer, you could see that the papers flooding his desk were some combination of floor plans, building sketches, and walls of text that looked much too small to read even if it were right in front of you.
“Right. Everything had already been mapped out already, but my father sent me these about an hour ago saying the first set they gave me was wrong.” He huffed a bit in annoyance at that, before continuing on. “So, I’ve mostly just been double checking whether it changes anything. I think we should be okay, but better safe than sorry, right?” he chuckled humorlessly, a hand raising to pass mindlessly through his hair.
“Lay it on me, Joon,” you grinned, forcing enthusiasm into your voice in the hopes that you could at least make him feel a bit better. It was, after all, much easier to help others than to help yourself. You leaned back on your hands, giving him your full attention.
“You read through everything I sent you already, right?” he inquired, despite knowing that the obvious answer was yes, considering you’d have to set out only hours later.
When you nodded your assent, he continued.
“So you know that this isn’t too complicated of a mission – a go in, talk, come back out type of thing. We’re already at a temporary peace with their family, so you and Jungkook will be there as assurance that they can’t just shoot me dead.”
“Uh huh. So what’s changed?”
“Pretty much just the map of the warehouse we’re going to. The windows are placed differently than we originally thought, and apparently there might be some sort of back door. Yoongi-hyung and Jin-hyung were supposed to confirm those details, but...” he trailed off, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip betraying his worry. But when he saw your face fall at the mention, he carried on.
“In theory, all we have to do is be a bit more aware when we get there, keep an eye out, especially for that other entrance. But I’ve mostly been thinking about what could go wrong with the added unknowns, especially if someone tried to throw us off intentionally-”
His voice was cut off abruptly by a loud bang from downstairs, followed by voices. You were up on your feet in an instant, out the bedroom door before you could even check whether Namjoon was following. Any semblance of pain was forgotten as you bounded downstairs at a speed that was probably unsafe, skidding to a stop when Yoongi and Seokjin came into view.
Your eyes scanning them over quickly, at first you thought nothing of it as you came closer. They looked ragged and tired, hair sticking to their foreheads, clothes dirty. If you didn’t notice the movement of Yoongi’s hand twitching against his abdomen, you would have gone straight into questioning them about their whereabouts for the past four hours.
But you did notice it, and your eyes zeroed in on the fact that his hand was, very faintly, stained with red. After that, any restraint you might have shown was gone in an instant.
“What happened to you?!” you exclaimed, closing the distance between you faster than they could think to move or respond. Pulling Yoongi’s hand away from his body with one of your own, the other yanked his shirt up before he could protest. There was no such thing as decency in this house when the other person was bleeding.
“Y/N-” Yoongi began in a tone that was definitely about to tell you to calm down.
“Don’t ‘Y/N’ me!” you huffed, holding his shirt up and away from his wound. Luckily, it didn’t look too bad, and wasn’t bleeding all that much. The sight calmed you somewhat, relieved by the fact that this was something that would be incredibly easy to recover from. But that didn’t mean you’d forgotten that he shouldn’t have even been injured in the first place. “Start talking, Seokjin.”
You saw him cringe a bit in the corner of your eye. He was almost never ‘Seokjin’ to you – it was clear to him that you were angry, even if it wasn’t necessarily at him.
He took a deep breath before starting. “We-”
“Hyung?” came Namjoon’s voice from behind you, and a quick glance showed that Jimin and Taehyung were right on his heel. “What happened?”
You could hear Seokjin wind himself up to start again, but a sharp sigh from Yoongi cut him off once again. “Can’t we sit for this?” Yoongi grumbled, irritation lacing his tone. The presence of not one, but four people fussing over him at the same time left him seemingly annoyed.
Instead of speaking, you begun to tug him in the direction of the kitchen table where you’d all be able to speak properly. If he wasn’t injured might have been comedic to see a grumpy Yoongi being led through the house by your grip on his shirt, but those nearby were too concerned to say anything. If you were anybody else he probably would have cussed you out by now – you were the only person here who would try such a thing nowadays.
When you reached the closest chair you pushed him down into it, taking his hand and forcing him to hold up his own shirt. “Hold that there,” you demanded, no-nonsense tone leaving no room for disagreement.
By the time you returned with clean hands and a first aid kit, everyone else was already seated, waiting for your arrival to get into the story.
You crouched on the floor next to where Yoongi was seated, pulling out supplies as Seokjin began. You listened intently to Seokjin’s explanation about arriving at the warehouse, parking in an alley and keeping an eye out from afar while Yoongi went around the building on his own.
“I was surveying as planned, but when I got around to the back I ran into – agh, fuck,” Yoongi grunted when you wiped at his wound with antiseptic, paying no mind to the fact that he was mid-sentence. “Ran into a guy with a mask on who pulled a knife on me,” he finished through gritted teeth, muscles tensing as you cleaned the blood away until you could properly see what you were working with.
You hadn’t fully relaxed until you’d reached that point. When the mess of dry blood was gone, it was clear that despite the cut being long, it didn’t seem deep enough to need stitches. So long as it didn’t get infected, it likely wouldn’t even scar. The fact that it wasn’t bleeding anymore was a good sign, though you cringed at how long he must have gone around with it like this.
You listened to Seokjin detail how Yoongi ended up coming back to the car far earlier than expected, and how whoever was there had chased them down. As you listened to how they’d had to drive around for hours to ensure they really lost them before returning home, you worked on dressing the wound. You pulled the gauze snugly around his narrow waist, pausing when he gave a quiet grunt.
“Too tight?” you asked quietly, searching his face.
“It’s fine. I could’ve done this myself, you know,” he mumbled, not looking at you.
You narrowed your eyes. “Aren’t you the one always telling me to accept help?”
Despite his lack of verbal response, his sigh was enough to signify his resignation as the point you’d made.
You hardly registered Namjoon leaving the table to call his father, more focused on the task in front of you. When you finally secured the gauze with tape, you leaned back to examine your handiwork. It wasn’t your best, and certainly nowhere near as neat as Jin would have made it, but it would do. Before you could move away, however, Yoongi’s hand rose to rub affectionately at your head.
“Thanks,” he cracked a smile at you, grin widening when you batted his blood-stained hand away with a barely-disguised look of disgust.
Rather than ream him out for dirtying your hair, an unreadable look spread over your face. “I was worried about you.”
As much as you’d tried to erase the image from your memory over the course of the last few hours, it wasn’t something that could easily be forgotten. It was irrational to think that your nightmares had any relation to what occurred in reality, but fear didn’t have to be rational.
It must have been obvious that something was troubling you more than the fact that they’d arrived home late and injured. There was no other reason for you to be staring into nothing, face screwed up into an expression that looked something like pain.
“Did something happen?” he asked simply, reaching for your hand and pulling it into his grasp when you didn’t resist. That you let his dirt and blood-crusted hand anywhere near your body without complaint was concerning in and of itself.
“No...” you said unsurely, gaze fixing onto the floor, shaking your head as though to dispel the image from your mind. “Not really.”
You heard an intake of breath as though he was about to protest, but Namjoon’s hurried footsteps returning to the table distracted you both. As you caught the troubled expression on Namjoon’s face, you rose to take a proper place at the table, beside Seokjin and Yoongi and across from Jimin and Taehyung.
Namjoon took a seat at the head of the table where everyone could see him, and the sight of his clear distress, hands running over his face, had you unsettled immediately.
“What’s wrong?” you asked hurriedly, business face on immediately.
“My father had someone look into who attacked you at the warehouse and chased you afterwards. The footage from the warehouse wasn’t clear, but based on street cams and red-light cams...” he took a deep breath, grimacing before his next statement. “It was Lee Taemin.”
The speed at which your brows shot up was impressive.
Lee Taemin.
The man who you were supposed to meet up with tomorrow. The man whose family supposedly had a partnership with yours.
“Excuse me?” came Seokjin’s bewildered voice.
“Lee Taemin attacked you? He had to have known it was you, after however long he chased you,” said Jimin.
You gripped the edge of the table harshly, nails digging into the surface. This wasn’t something to be taken lightly – in fact, you were surprised they had the nerve to double-cross Bangtan.
Were the changes Namjoon was looking at earlier a result of their meddling? What would have happened tomorrow if you’d shown up according to plan? What would have awaited you there?
“There’s no way three of us can just walk in there tomorrow,” you said through gritted teeth, fury rising the longer you thought about how close to disaster you’d come because of their betrayal. How had they managed to keep it all secret? Surely whispers should have made it to you by now.
Unless he was acting alone?
Nothing made sense.
“We won’t be going to the warehouse tomorrow,” Namjoon stated, though the resignation in his tone sent a shot of confusion through you. He didn’t seem very happy about that fact, despite the risks being massive.
“And you’re upset about that, because...?” you prodded, sensing something else laying beneath that statement.
“We’ll be going to a party tomorrow night instead.”
--
Tagging: @shere-khan-the-lizard @wwilloww @propinqxity
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Witcher Of The Night (Chapter 2)
CHAPTER 1
THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.
Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader
Summary: Y/N seemed to already have a spot in the house, and also a feverish feeling inside her heart. Totally unwavering and in distress. Geralt could feel it happening again as he could feel his heart soften at the woman who'd pop out of nowhere, thus; he doesn't know if her arrival has been a good thing or can be considered as ill-fate for him.
Warnings: Modern references because reader lives in modern day era in earth. Geralt and Jaskier banters, non-stop. 😂 Just a filler chapter but also considered important because we can see how frustrated and scared the reader is and not being happy in an instant? 😂 Kinda fluff with Geralt and Y/N’s interaction?
Words: 4,500+ (IT'S DAMN LONG. I'VE BEEN TOO HAPPY WRITING THEIR BANTERS 😂)
A/N: 2nd chapter for WITCHER OF THE NIGHT! 😊 This will prolly consist of 15-20 chapters or less! 😊 TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT THIS! THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE IN THIS SERIES, POTATOES!
TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS FIRST PART! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!
Taglist: @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog @ayamenimthiriel @hellodevilslittlesister @vania-marie @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth
Disclaimer: PNG's used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters and said monsters aren't from moi as well. (Gif down below is from witches-ground)
MY WORKS ARE NOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!
You sat on the dusty, creaking wooden chair that they owned. Eyes studying your surroundings as Jaskier moved around to get a pale of water while Geralt stood a meter away from you; leaning on a wall with his muscular arms across his chest, silently watching you like a hawk.
The stares he have been giving you were completely tangible for the naked eye or it was probably because you were conscious of his incomprehensible gawking. You noticed their roof was also thatched. Adding a burning furnace which also utilizes as their stove and heat for the night.
Your face frown at the realization that they didn't have any refrigerator nor a stove but noticed two rooms sat together. You've heard ruffling from the far back and liquid being poured down the bucket as your eyes landed on the man watching you in silence. Abruptly, a soft, vindicated smile raised your lips as you leisurely shook your legs left to right to suppress the consternation tingling your nerves, "Thank you," a quiet, sincere whisper was all Geralt heard amongst the oak wood burning in the background.
No answer was given other than having to take a gander as you sat away from him; a little bit recherché with that look in his eyes, "Thank you for saving me, Geralt." you repeated to utter out a word from the man himself. From the moment you've heard his voice; surprisingly, it was rather soothing to your anxious nerves. Frightening thoughts run over cars after cars inside your brain as you didn't know what the future holds.
You didn't even know how to go home. They've been avoiding the question as to where you could find the airport.
Geralt's name that rolled off your tongue sounded unfamiliar and thoroughly anomalous. But, you would probably get used to it once the dream reaches an end.
Technically, that was the problem. You didn't know if it was entirely a dream because it felt so real.
Shifting were heard and you've come to realize that Geralt had lifted himself off the wall, taking heavy steps close as you guiltlessly gawked at him. He fairly lifted the hem of his black long-sleeved shirt, giving you a slight view of his jutting torso. You've anxiously cleared your throat and avoided his pretty glowing, golden eyes keeping under scrutiny.
God has been testing your forbearance since you've woken up in the forest. Adding more inclinations to probably torture you till you wake up from your utter deep sleep.
Much to your inattentive state and your eyes shutting tightly; asking the heavens to wake you up in that instance, Geralt stopped before you; giving much space for you to breathe and seeming to be standing on your side rather than in front because it would be a very nubile sight to be in face with his leather-clothed crotch.
Damn you and your short genes.
"You are awake," he suddenly distracted you from your distraught. You were completely engrossed on wishing out loud for whoever to just kick you on the bed so you could be awakened.
Geralt dangled a piece of cloth in front of your face. Minimal blood dots containing the cloth on his hands. So that's what he was doing when he'd tried to give you a sneak peak of his chiseled torso. He ripped the piece of a long white clothing used for his wounds that surrounded his body.
There was blood. It simply means he's really human and not anything part of a pack of wolves.
"What's this for?" you've observed the piece of clothing hanging in front of you. Brows in a tight twist as you winced from the itch on a part of your soot-filled face. Geralt left no reply and gathered his hand on yours, the sudden gesture making you jump in your seat because of the sudden touch. His hand giving you some kind of tepid, amiable warmth that made you believe that everything was real and true as you catch a sight of his passive expression.
You've felt a soft cloth fall on the soft center of your palm, "--For the grime scattered all over your face and body," As quick as he'd grabbed onto your hands, he was fast enough to leave them hanging in front of you as he turned his booted heel. The width of his abnormally burly shoulders giving you a view as he strolled around their cozy home, locking your gaze on his overwhelming presence.
"You don't have to...." a trail of thoughts protested out loud as he'd crouched before a leather bag, thus hearing a clothing being ripped after. There was a Lute sitting beside the bag and you've took notice of it and focused on the instrument instead, wondering if Geralt owns the string instrument. Geralt rose to his feet and situated himself in front of you again to dangle another set of torn, clean white cloth, "---and for your wounds,"
The smile you sent was thoroughly cordial and unnerving. Geralt was supposed to turn away and mind his own business until you've peered up at him like a cat asking for attention. The powerful looking man had to emit an evident sigh; cursing beneath his breath that questioned your sanity as to why he was already kneeling before you; eye to eye and probably trying to enchant you as it bear into your mind that magical things have been happening since the moment you've woken up.
Yes, you debated with yourself and believed in your hunches that his effect with you had something to do with casting a spell for you.
"Do...you have a name?" he grumbled with a slight drawl to his words. His unorthodox eyes were much clearer against the fire and thoroughly fetching. You've had to blink to ruin the spell he'd tried to cast upon you and took your time in understanding what he have asked.
"Ughm," you mumbled like an idiot and played with the cloth in your hand, gaze fixated on the ball of cloth scrunched on your palm, "Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N,"
Geralt was attentive of your palpable and otherwordly scent. It was completely out of this world and he probably meant that literally because of how mystifying and strange you were around them. The latter could also hear the fast beating of your heart, taking to account that the effect of it was rather much a mental struggle he didn't know. Howbeit, the other half was another piece he wasn't familiar about.
He'd given you that captivating look as you continued to stare at your fidgeting fingers, "Are you a princess?" at that declaration and inquiry, your head snapped, fast enough to give you whiplash. A scrunch of your nose telling him that you've found his question rather uncanny, "What--as much as I'd want to be a princess, I think I'd rather suit to be a queen,"
You've bunched the cloth in your hand and restlessly cough onto it, looking anywhere except for that stare he was giving. What were you even saying? 'Where was Jaskier?' the voice inside your head spoke for your nerves.
A side of Geralt's lip involuntary lifted into a smirk, "You'd suit to be a midget," he paused, golden eyes glowing in amusement, "---A grimy, naive midget,"
His opinion suddenly struck a gut in you, snapping your head to meet his mischievous golden peepers, "EXCUSE ME?" you exclaimed, rather offended.
"Y/N of Novigrad? Vizima? Brokilon--" Geralt started telling peculiar names of places, and you were quick to object his options, "No! Y/N from State farm,"
There was a long minute of silence. His forehead creasing because of the bafflement that was accountable to your words. Geralt has never heard of that kingdom. If so, the kingdom had a bizarre name out of the ones he'd visited. State Farm didn't sound frightening to him if there were even beasts he could kill. Other than that, those beasts in State Farm rather had creatures like Hirikkas or Sylvans.
Entirely harmless for an unknown person like you, if you were still alive by now.
"Kingdom of State Farm," he lowly grumbled, keeping the name of the place in mind as a hum followed through, "Hmm,"
Your mouth momentarily went ajar as he nodded to himself, giving credence to the pun that was shared. The joke seeming to be rather irking than funny because of how convinced he appeared to look like.
"What do you mean hmm? It was a joke! You actually believed it--oh my! This is depressing!" you crowed with a finger to your temples, giving them a massage. Geralt guiltlessly cocked his head to the side, watching you rant and rave like you were close to having your patience blown.
He continued to stare you down with chaste; utterly childlike innocence, making you ogle back at him because he really had no idea what it was. Geralt seemed to wait for your vexation to stop and you couldn't help but bite the insides of your cheeks, feeling guilty for being frustrated when the man himself didn't actually know what it was.
"---I'm from...earth," your voice turned a volume lower, only for him to hear as you were close to melting from those blazing eyes.
You've raised a finger just before his chest, pointing your index at him as you couldn't help the tender beam growing on your face despite of how much problem you were experiencing.
"E.T vibes,"
Geralt eyed your finger in bewilderment. You high-spiritedly wiggled your finger for him to connect; a soft giggle baffling him to the extent as he watch you waggle your finger in front of him. Much to your disappointment, he distractedly grabbed onto your finger and shook your finger like he was shaking your hand.
Your giggle died down and so a disappointed frown was about to appear when the crash of a door opening resonated in the house. Jaskier tumbling in with a bucket of water as he gave off a set of exasperated breaths.
Geralt continued to shake your finger wrapped around his palm, never minding Jaskier who marched towards where you were and his gaze fixated on the connection at hand.
Jaskier dropped the pail of water beside you, breathing in a long breath before giving you both a double-take of his surprised expression, huffing out the rude awakening that startled out his breathing.
"What am I just witnessing?"
His Witcher of a friend instantly ceased from shaking your finger, dropping them like he'd been cauterized and languidly turned his head to peer up at Jaskier who has his eyebrow up in a sassy state.
"You treat her wounds, Geralt."
He gave the Bard a glare and a tight grimace.
They've continued their stare down contest and made you smile to yourself. Their friendship seemed to be pretty much earnest from how they playfully bantered at each other. More passionate than what you had back at home. Thus, you continued cleaning yourself; after saying your thanks to Jaskier and he seemed to smile a smug one at that before going back to narrow his eyes at the man before him.
"What? Don't you give me that scowl! I've already fetched a bucket of water for the grimy lady,"
"---You've also ruined my nap for this woman!" Jaskier retorted back even though he'd only gotten an unpleasant hum from the latter.
"Her name is Y/N Y/L/N," Geralt deeply chided as you continued wiping your filth-filled face and neck. Glad to know that he wasn't looking and gave his friend the attention he needed.
"Greetings, Y/N of Y/L/N." Jaskier started rather confidently, humbly and acknowledging you who sat in front of Geralt.
You've squeezed the cloth out from being drenched as you felt much squeaky clean than earlier. Once you've realized its done as you've essentially washed the dirt away from your wounds, you dropped the cloth Geralt has given you inside the bucket, fishing out the set of new clean cloth hidden under your leg, "My name is Y/N and Y/L/N is not a place--"
Your thoughts were ceased as Geralt pulled the long cloth out of your hands. The flat part of the bandage being wrapped around your wounded knee. Your heart was jumping in utter madness and you tried to softly pull it back, apprehensively looking into his eyes as he gazed at you in question. "I-I can do it on my own, Geralt. It's fine,"
He seemed to be reluctant at first, staring at you with no words said before humming to himself about his approval of leaving you to it as he stood on his soles.
The proximity was undeniably giving you an edge of one's seat. So, it was better to avoid the warmth at all cost until you haven't shaken up from your dream.
Jaskier narrowed his eyes on the cloth on your hands, seeming to recognize the bandage. His eyebrows raising in displeasure. "Is that..Is that a piece of my clean under-tunic?! You've ripped it off, didn't you?!" he snapped his head towards the Witcher and had his brows in a twist.
Geralt only gave him a small smirk as he brazenly stood tall before the bard, crossing his arms across his chest.
The bard started to reiterate again, jotting down points after points in bullet form as to how unreasonable it was to cut a piece of precious clothing just for it to be wrapped around for a wound, "I've bought it from a beautiful merchant named Albreda on a marketplace--"
"You've bed the fuck out of her in exchange for the Tunic, Jaskier."
The haughty tone in Geralt's voice made Jaskier groan; not because he was wrong but his friend was also right and he was frustrated because he was feeling guilty of nothing in particular, "Oh, gods! This is obnoxious! You're lucky I treat you as a friend!"
"Simmer down, you're going to wake Ciri." Geralt continued to grouch and nodded his head to the door beside his own bedroom.
"Oh, no you don't get to include Princess Cirilla in this defense of yours, Witcher!"
You were completely unaware of their banters. Though, you were certainly curious as to what has Jaskier been calling Geralt like it was established and a brand named for him. Your ears perked at the name been said.
"Witcher? You're a witch?"
Both men refrained themselves to continue their repartee. Eyes glued to each other before giving you a glimpse and saw the agog in your eyes, wishing for an explanation or answer.
You've scanned the whole house, searching for a cauldron and anything that could sense he was a witch, yet none. "Where's the cauldron where you cite spells or anything?"
Geralt subtly shook his head, "That's not my job,"
A wag of understanding was given; thinking that maybe you got it all wrong based on the video games you've managed to finish back at your home with your Playstation. Jaskier stepped a foot close, a cordial smile carving his lips, "That small rat, is a mage, a sorcerer or a wizard you are saying,"
He stepped another as he let you continue to wrap the wounds on your knees with his ripped clothing. The frustration suddenly thrown out in the sky as he cleared his throat, raising a hand to Geralt's chest to stop him from even saying anything, "Let me handle this Geralt, I'm downright absolute at this---"
His nose flared at where the topic was going, Geralt knew what was he pointing out and how his poetic wits could get him enthusiastic and utter clumsy, "Your endeavor makes my head hurt to its extent," he bleated with a deep groan sent to the latter.
"I can sing you a song to give you knowledge about Witchers--" he cut his friend off with a deep scold, "Jaskier,"
"What?! Every villager loved it! They've also learned to be accustomed by your presence whenever you're around!" he elaborated, straightening his back with a gesture of his hands as he twirled it around to prove his point.
"Well, your singing is like eating a pie and finding it has no filling,"
With that witty comeback, Jaskier dramatically clasp his hands on his hips, mouth forming an 'O' as he pointed at his friend like he has been deeply insulted below the belt; repeatedly shaking his head as he couldn't accept his opinions, "The audacity! Your character development is declining in such a repugnant way tonight, Geralt!"
Thus, all of a sudden; you've been included in their random retaliation as Jaskier pointed a finger at you, "This is her fault! She ruined your nap!"
Geralt gave out a fascinated hum, "You're just mad because you were frightened by an Alghoul,"
Jaskier shut his mouth at that, mouth hanging mid-way before closing like a gold fish. He cleared his throat for the second time around and nodded to you as you looked up at him after bandaging every wound you have that were sensitive and rather deep. A small smile at how satisfied you were with your work and at both of their foolishness.
Jaskier blinked as he saw you be all smiles despite of your problem at hand. Their banters surprisingly calmed your anxiety away for the moment and you couldn't help but be entertained by whatever they were talking about. He tightly shut his mouth before looking at Geralt and seeing him already taking a good look at your twinkling smile. He'd given you both a once over, a skeptical look flashing before his eyes and ignored the Witcher beside him and setting his bright blue eyes on you.
"You'll have your explanation of Witchers next time, small, adorable maiden. Geralt over here is just stingy about the whole ordeal because of certain pasts that he doesn't want to hear,"
Another exonerated beam was given to Jaskier which made him nod to himself because of how much radiance he had been receiving from your merry self; simultaneously followed by a nod of understanding that came from you.
"You need to sleep," Geralt gave away on the spur of the moment. Golden eyes still on you as you could feel the heat crawling on your skin for the third time this night.
Jaskier hummed a yes before responding and sublimely bummed to see that Geralt wasn't actually pertaining to him; but to you, "I know I do---" he shut his mouth before adding humiliation to the abrupt blissful feeling he'd felt after looking at you.
"---My bed is unattainable," the bard changed his sentence as he tried to read his mind. Nonetheless, he was contemplating that maybe Geralt would give his own bed to you or maybe not. "---Also, she needs to change into a much comfortable set of clothing," Jaskier stated the obvious as he took in your soiled clothes that you were wearing.
Geralt just gave him a look and with just one glance he was sure at what he wanted to say despite of not opening his mouth.
"You've already ripped a part of my under-Tunic, Geralt. I'm not having it,"
The Witcher cussed beneath his breath and gave him a glare. Jaskier's will unwavering, "Fuck," before strutting to his room and shutting the wooden door closed.
You and Jaskier looked at each other in utmost peculiarity; shrugging both of your shoulders at the sudden exit of the man himself. He was quick to come out of his room with a rather large looking black, thin, Tunic buttoned top which seemed to be fitted for him and rather short.
Geralt handed the shirt and you wholeheartedly accepted the clothing in a heart beat, "This is...Thanks," it was much better than having no clothing to change as you realized there was no shorts or underpants included with the simple long sleeved shirt, "Turn around, please."
Both of their foreheads creased with only Geralt having the desire question your point.
"Why?"
You raised a skeptical brow at him, standing on your seat with the single clothing you were holding, "Unless, you want to watch me get changed then..."
Jaskier scoffed at that, also hearing a perceptible snort as he gave his friend a look of mischief; with Geralt already having a tight scowl on his face, his friend wanting to add more tightness to that scowl he was having, "Maybe Geralt would want that based on how grouchy he is tonight! This Witcher needs to bed a woman after a month of great abstinence--Ow!"
The bard has been smacked on the head by the Witcher which made Jaskier stumble from the weight. Geralt snaked his heavy arm around his shoulder, never forgetting the nerving smile he has given you before turning them both around to give you your time to change.
"Shut up, Jaskier."
Jaskier gave him the stink eye, rubbing at his head because of how heavy and painful it was. His abilities could get Jaskier in bruises because of foul play.
You changed in haste, not wanting for them to see you in your unpatterned undergarments in the midst of it all because they were impatient enough and that you were taking too long.
"I can..take the chair and the table," you dubiously started to inform them that you were done. Geralt's shirt on you stopped just below your thighs, leaving your legs bare but enough to cover the decency you wanted because it was huge.
They both turned around and studied you from head to toe, a groan rumbling out of Geralt's chest as his eyebrows seemed to draw closer. The bard gave him an unimpressed tone of his voice, "That’s your kind of comfortable?"
“It’s kind of...freeing. Believe me,”
They’ve shared another minute of death stares before you smiled to yourself.
You shook your head to tell them that you were thankful of their help, giving them both another beam which reached from ear to ear as you pointed to their wooden table which seemed to be rather quite feeble as well as the chair that came with it. Four chairs surrounding the table that peaked your curiosity as to whom was living in the house aside from Jaskier and Geralt, "I can rest my head down on the table, I think it could suffice for now,"
"---Besides, I think I wouldn't stay long enough. I'll probably find a way to...an airport or something," you added, smile now wavering because you could feel your heart dropping because of the thought of never going back again.
Geralt stared you down with that subtle slant of his head, watching you speak, "As long as we're in earth," you tried to get an answer out of them, yet their silence says that they didn't know what you were really talking about, "---please do tell me we're in earth,"
Geralt exhaled a sigh, making your nerves stutter from the scary demeanor of his that was back again like the curtains has been opened. He didn't know what to say nor explain to you whatever it is that has teleported you in their dimension because he certainly had no idea that it was even possible from the start.
He was sure of the portals made by wizards and sorceress' that can only reach a certain depth of dimension, not thoroughly a dimension where their world couldn't seem to connect with each other. A portal only exists and can be opened through witchcraft and not having one partial entrance.
Though, why have you suddenly pop out of nowhere in middle of the far north forest of Kaedwan when you've originally lived on earth?
"Get some sleep, Midget." was the only answer as Geralt left without a smile, walking to his room and leaving your heart bothered at the fact that your questions were unanswerable by them and even you, yourself.
Jaskier have managed to rummaged a piece of clothing as a pillow for you to sleep on. Technically, he only has one and you've objected when he wanted to give it to you because you knew laying on the floor with a thin looking carpet seem to be uncomfortable in the eye and physically itself.
The cracking of wood was the only sound you've heard other than Jaskier's shifting on his side of the room. He was twisting and turning, completely distracted by your fourth attempt in sighing out loud as you've held onto your full battery phone that strangely didn't even had the clock on. It was simply four dashes which has been unable to tell the time back in your country.
You were staring on your phone, seeing the battery level go down to ninety-nine percent and you've decide to take the battery off, so you can use it for emergency purposes in the future.
The battery was off in just one lift of the recharge-able bank. Thus, in the middle of being eaten by your own pessimistic thoughts, Jaskier turned around as he laid on his bed, looking at your hunched form, your arms on the table and fingers holding your temple, "I...I....You seem to be in a distress," the latter stuttered, finding the correct words to comfort you.
He continued with a hushed timbre of his voice, "---I don't know what to say because this world is filled with magic and monsters," pause. "Geralt can only be the person to help you in going back home,"
You've taken a proper look at him, tears forming your eyes by how you were thinking that there was no going back. The knot in your throat making you swallow hard because you didn't want to cry in front of a stranger no matter how much of a softie you are. The fire emitting a rare sight of Jaskier's face glowing under the flames, "---That is if you really aren't from here and you've just hit your head on a rock or something,"
There it was, the tears starting to fall before you've immediately gathered those tears with the pad of your fingers. The utter hopelessness and sadness suddenly weighing on you like a boulder. Jaskier couldn't see you from his perspective, though he could hear the tiny sniffs coming from the other side of the house.
"---Maybe after getting some sleep, you'll get to go back home and magically pop back to where you came from, Y/N."
You've breathed out of your mouth and fumbled with the hem of the sleeves that covered your hands, solemnly looking at Tunic that the Witcher has let you use as your own. The cloth seeming to be wonderful for some snot and tear catching expeditions of yours.
There was no answer sent to the Bard as he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. He did eventually as you continued your weeping in the middle of the night, thinking that nobody will be able to hear it.
Though, you were wrong because you were unaware of Geralt's heightened senses as he sat on his bed and contemplated as to why your scent was indistinguishable from Yennefer. Entirely greater, stronger. Yet, with you; there was no magic involved.
Chapter 2 for WITCHER OF THE NIGHT is here now! PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO LEAVE FEEDBACKS WHEN YOU DO LOVE IT! Thank you, tater tots!
#geralt of rivia#geralt of rivia x reader#geralt of rivia x you#geralt x you#geralt of rivia x y/n#witcher geralt#geralt imagine#geralt x y/n#geralt x reader#geralt fanfic#geralt one shot#geralt of rivia fic#geralt#henry cavill x you#Henry Cavill#henry cavill x y/n#henry cavill x reader#the witcher fic#the witcher#jaskier#Witcher of the night#witcher of the night series#witcher of the night taglist#henry cavill fanfic#geralt of rivia fanfiction#geralt of rivia fanfic#the witcher fandom#the witcher fanfiction#the witcher fanfic#walter marshall
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“Losty Aone” / “Losty Mountain Man🏔” Series:
Outtake Collection #12:
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A/N: I miss you guys so much! Thank you for over 150 notes on my last outtake 🤯! If you haven’t read my life update already, please do and know that it’s hard for me to prioritize school and work before this blog. This outtake collection was originally supposed to be a multiple posting like the previous ones, but I reckon I was taking too long and thought to just post at least the part that was complete. Love y’all
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Songs for this outtake:
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8 Days After The Breakup ⛓🥀
💤 😴 💤
“Leave her be. She’s having fun.”
Aone watched as the class-snitch Tsume Lian handed in his paper and hurriedly left the classroom.
I didn’t mean to scare him, thought Mountain Man. He shrugged it off, looking down to concentrate on his own assignment, going through the questions easily. I only have 3 left now, and the answers are fairly simple because-
“Hi! Thanks so much for defending me a little while ago!”
An angelic voice startled Aone out of his academic train of thought. As soon as the sound vibrations reached his ear drums all the nerves in Aone’s body stood at attention.
Is that......?! he questioned, but received his answer when he felt the magnetic pull to the voice as he always did—his eyes having a mind of their own and following the sound. Aone felt his heart halt when he lifted his head from his paper to be graced with something much, much, more beautiful. His crush, you, were standing next to him. Aone’s entire body and brain went out of commission when he looked up to see you, standing so close he could feel your body heat, your beautiful manicured hands pressed on his desk. Your grateful eyes were staring into his for quite possibly the first time in his entire life.
The eyes he dreams about.
Your Apple scent invaded his nostrils and Aone breathed in as deeply as he could subconsciously. He never wanted to smell anything else.
The scent that he dreams about.
You reached over to touch Aone’s arm in his uniform, shooting him an endearing smile. Aone’s eyes widened. Y/N IS TOUCHING ME, he thought. His heart tightened and he really thought he was at risk for a heart attack. The only thing that kept him from having that heart attack, in fact, was seeing you smile a second later. He wouldn’t be graced with that smile if he fainted now🥵. To Aone, when you smiled, oh god, when you smiled—You weren’t just beautiful like he always found you: you were unreal. It was your smile on top of the cheerleading pyramid that made him initially lock onto you, and it was your smile with your friends at school that made Mountain Man stop in his tracks every time just to take it in. It is captivating.
Aone couldn’t help but stare at your lips when the vibrations of your melodic cheerful voice reached his ears again.
“I’m Y/N! It’s nice to meet you!”
Nice to.....? What? Losty Aone connected the dots a bit, realizing that you were introducing yourself to him. He wanted to laugh. It is almost a comical quiet-boy-meets-his-crush scene, right? The fact that the female he spends most of his day thinking about, the female outside of the Takanobu’s that he probably knows most about, the female that he has spent the better part of the last two years pining after, was introducing herself—that she deemed it necessary to make him aware of who she is—is comical.
Dark Comedy.
Honestly, Aone couldn’t even stop for too long to feel bad for how pathetic this seemed for him: as he was too busy basking in your light. Whether you were introducing yourself or reciting the Arabic alphabet to him— he’d want to hear you over and over, no matter what, unable to think of anything else he’d want more.
Aone wanted to say something back to you, he obviously did. But he was just too in shock that the girl he wishes he could marry, the girl that is so completely out of his league that she doesn’t even notice his existence, is speaking him unexpectedly. It was like a dream. Aone’s throat was drier than the Sahara desert.
It was TOO MUCH. Your simple greeting made him TOO HAPPY—he was unable to respond.
Aone felt severe loss of sweet tingling skin nerves when you removed your hand from his burning arm. If he was thinking clearly he might have pouted. He mentally kicked himself for being too star-struck by you to dedicate one part of his mind to memorize what it felt like to have you touch him.
“Sorry.”
You said shyly, gifting Aone’s eardrums again. You looked down sheepishly, then met his serious expression again, appearing God-sent with the thankful expression you gave him. If Aone could speak, he would bloody PROPOSE.
“Um....”
Still frozen, Aone couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as you spoke.
“You probably don’t know this but you getting that pervert to leave me alone is quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone has done for me. And you did it for a stranger, no less. And ummm.........”
You tucked your hair cutely behind your ear, obviously wanting to say something else. Aone was eager to hear it. He loved hearing your voice! After all, witnessing your usually bubbly cheerleader-self so demure and cute-looking made his heart skip a beat. Or dozens of beats. All he could think of when he watched you was:
She’s Unreal.
She’s Perfect.
She’s a Dream.
Long shot, but she’s my desired Future wife.
He wanted to beg you to keep speaking. Your voice was his favourite sound... it has been ever since he first heard it.
“Ummmm........ also I wanted to say.....”
Aone put an effort to mentally block out all the white noise of the chatty classroom so that he could hear your beautiful voice more clearly. He wanted to remember this. He wanted to memorize every second of this, since you approaching his desk has unpredictably turned today in to one of the best days of his life. Please keep talking to me Y/N. Please.
Aone’s heart tightened again as your expressive eyes pierced into his serious ones. You took a deep breath before saying what you wanted to say next.
......Yes? Aone wish he could say. You can tell me anything, Y/N.
“....and.....”
you pushed on, leaning in closer so that Aone had an even clearer close up of your gorgeous face and your scent was even stronger. Yep, absolutely the best day of my life.
And......? Aone wanted to hurry you, but then he saw you opening your mouth:
“And do you mind not doing that again? It’s obvious you have a really intense crush on me obviously—but I don’t feel the same way. I don’t even know who you are. It’ll never work out in the long run because I’m in this league and you’re...in that one.”
Aone hearing what you said was like a knife—no, A SWORD stabbing through his heart. He literally felt wounded. He looked at his beautiful crush—still putting you first even in a state of pain like this— feeling terrible for making you uncomfortable due to his romantic hopes.
“I’m s-sorry, Y/N...” Aone was about to stutter out,
💤😴💤
But his eyes opened before then, kicking him out of his dream.
Takanobu’s heart ached as he stared up at his bedroom ceiling in the dark. Aone checked with his hand to make sure that he really hadn’t been stabbed through the chest, because that’s what he felt right now. Breathing heavily through his nose when he felt his actual hard chest there like normal, he wondered how the pain there could be so insufferable then?
Takanobu hasn’t been able to avoid these terrible dreams since several nights ago, when you had broken up with him on the Ferris wheel. He knows you are not as cruel as you are in his dreams but his depressive state of mind obviously only knows how to make him feel worse about everything. He doesn’t really remember much after you had called him your friend in the Ferris Wheel lot; shattering what was left of his heart by that word combined with walking away. Though, he does remember hearing his mom at dinner 2 nights ago talking to him about how it was Futakuchi who had to come get him, but he wasn’t sure.
To be honest, ever since the night on the Ferris Wheel, Aone has become a shell of a man that lost a lot of care for things he used to care about.
He can’t recall what his mom said at dinner or what Kenji said in the car or what really happened the days after you decided to leave him: The only feeling he could register is the overbearing heavy feeling in his heart. The only thing that captured his attention is the aching in his chest. The sound of his heart’s continuous shattering whenever he thought of you was louder than any words he heard and the all encompassing gnawing of heartache, was more tangible than anything else he could possibly feel.
If Aone had to describe in words how he has felt since that moment 🎡 (but he wouldn’t because he has subconsciously retreated back to his mute lifestyle), he would say his heart feels like it is encompassed by the heaviest chains known to man with an anchor on the end, hanging low and weighing down his whole heart.
If that wasn’t bad enough, whenever you crossed his mind, the chains would tighten and squeeze his heart. Therefore, since you basically never left his mind, that means his heart is continuously being squeezed by hefty anchorage. It is an awful feeling to say the least.
Sitting up on the side of his bed, Aone checked his phone for the time and date.
8 days since the anniversary...? He stated to himself.
Had I attended school in between? He doesn’t even remember.
All that was clearly registered is the feeling of loss.
Aone sighed. Must have, because knowing Futakuchi, he likely wouldn’t let him skip. Aone can now recall going to school and not seeing you there....no wonder it’s deemed insignificant in his brain.
When Mountain Man had gotten too worried about your absence on the second day and was about to check on you, his friends had asked your friends, discovering that you were currently sick and on bed rest.
Mountain Man felt terrible. You probably got ill from walking in the snow after the Ferris Wheel ride. If he hadn’t brought you there you wouldn’t be sick. You’d only had on a thin jacket that night...
Should I text Y/N? Ask her if there’s anything I can bring her so she can feel better? What would Futakuchi say?
‘ABSOLUTELY THE FUCK NOT.‘ Is what he would say, Aone thought, practically able to hear his friend’s voice.
In bed, Mountain Man sighed. Even if he did text you, you didn’t want to hear from him anymore. That’s the purpose of a breakup, no matter how much it gutted him. You were entitled to your space.
Through impenetrable mental torment, Aone rubbed his eyes and peeped at the time. While Aone would describe himself as a militant person, who always wakes up on time for school, leaves his house on time for everything; practically the most dependable human, and was very orderly his entire life—things have changed drastically as of 8 days ago. Not that he cared since time wasn’t really something he could focus on, but Aone now awoke several times a night, walked in late to class and cancelled his attendance to any and all social events he was going to go to.
He and Futakuchi were supposed to help Karasuno with blocking yesterday, but Aone just went straight home. He hasn’t even seen his friends for quite some time....or maybe he has, but the memory isn’t registering.
Broken-hearted Mountain Man would just avoid everyone in class (staring out of the window, looking incredibly unapproachable), and outside of class: opting to eat lunch alone (and by eating, it means just toying with whatever he was going to eat). Every lunch hour, this depresssed polar bear would find some corner outdoors to sit by himself: Sometimes it was at the bus stop down the street from the school where he’d sit and watch the passerbyers, his gaze staying a bit longer on the couples that passed by, wishing you still wanted that with him. Yesterday, he found a spot under a big tree and counted the grass patches. Even though you weren’t at school, as soon as the Date Teko cheerleaders came outside to practice a bit for the snowboarding team, Aone picked up his stuff and finished his lunch in an empty classroom...
6:38am.
So Aone had over 20 minutes till he needed to get up and get ready for school.
Usually, this white-haired man would use that time to do something productive: either review his homework, try to make breakfast for his mom or dad, read a book to his turtle, research new volleyball drills to help his team.............
But this morning was different. Of course it was. In the extra time he had this morning, all Aone could do in these minutes is sit up, propping his elbows on his knees and cradle his head in his hands, willing his heart to stop hurting so much. He had zero tears to cry, he isn’t a crier but they were probably all out after the first night that he tear stained his pillow...... So instead of crying, now Aone just spent his extra time in this position, thinking about you—the greatest girl he would ever know—and how he failed to make you happy enough that you’d choose to stay with him.
Aone:
He has no idea why he got his hopes up. Why did he think someone like you would want him? Of course you’d come to your senses eventually.
Faded beautiful black and white images of your moments together flashed through his depressed mind like a movie reel: triggering his heart to weigh his body down even more:
He saw you playing with Perdu on the floor of his room, trying to teach the reptile how to fetch.
He saw you cling onto his arm and hide your face in his shoulder when a jump scare hit the screen at the movie theatre.
In slow motion, He saw you waving and smiling at the supporters in the bleachers as you were cheerleading with your teammates, looking breathtaking
He saw you giving his best friends the middle finger and sticking your tongue out at them because they were teasing him
He saw you throw your head back and laugh as you sat next to him at the lunch table, leaning on him for support because you were laughing so hard
He saw you flip your hair back as you actually listening to his tutoring in his room... then he saw your face brighten, clapping when he told you your answer was correct
He saw you—
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
The sound of Aone’s weekday alarm jolted him out of his heart wrenching slideshow... He rubbed his temples for a moment in his dark room before turning the alarm off. He stood up slowly and took a deep breath before forcing himself to go through the motions again— slipping on his house slippers and making his way to his bathroom. He flicked on the bathroom light and Aone dared to look at himself briefly in the mirror: though what greeted his eyes made him instinctively turn the fucking light off.
Pathetic, anguished Mountain thought.
I look even scarier now. He tore his eyes away from the mirror display of his tired eyes and overall broken demeanour.
No wonder Y/N doesn’t want me.
Hearing your name in his mind for the first time since he had promised himself he wouldn’t mention it, sent a wave of immense devastation through this man’s entire body. It was so strong it caused this middle blocker to hang his head and use both strong hands to grip his bathroom counter so he wouldn’t collapse under the metaphorical pain in his chest.
He never knew it was possible to feel such emotional pain so physically.
He deliberated staying home, but that would worry his parents and friends even more, which is the last thing he wanted.
It’s almost the end of the week. Just keep getting ready for school, he told himself. It is only 4 hours until lunch, when you can be alone again.
Aone brushed his teeth while sitting on the edge of his bathtub, finding it easier to avoid his reflection in the mirror this way. He spat and rinsed, then reached for his floss, but realized it was empty.
Sighing, baby boy dragged his feet from his ensuite to one of his house’s main bathrooms where his mom left the extra toiletries.
Aone began flossing in his quiet bathroom. He heard the faint sound of the front door closing and locking since his mother usually left for work at this time. Takanobu finished flossing and washed his hands. He took a few floss containers and exited the main bathroom, shutting off the light and briskly turning the corner—before running right into another man.
“Shit!” The other voice yelled as their body fell backwards from the impact.
Completely startled because he thought he was home alone, Aone’s eyes widened but his fast reflexes caught the man’s arm before he fell to the ground. Aone’s eyes went back to normal realizing who he caught.
“Dude! Are you a fucking ghost?! You make zero sound when you walk around the house! How is that even possible for a man your size!?!”
Takanobu looked down at his best friend dressed in pyjamas like: ⁉️
Not uttering a word, he gave Kenji a monotone look as to say: What are you doing here?
Kenji—understanding his best friend without him needing to use words like he always did, answered him.
“What am I doing here?” Kenji chuckled. “Well, it’s been days and you won’t answer my texts or calls, big guy! I have no idea where you go during lunch, it’s cold as shit outside and we spend the entire time looking for you.... and then you go straight home when the last bell rings! You seem dead at school: like a zombie. So fuck, you forced my lazy ass to get creative. 💥 Boom. Now I’m here. Your mom said I can move in stay for the time being, basically. I’m sleeping in the first guest room and—“
Aone turned on his heels to peek into the first guest room beside the bathroom. Sure enough, he saw one big suitcase Futakuchi had used when he had come on a vacation with his dads side 4 years ago.
Aone turned back to his friend, grunting as if to say: 🤨 this is a lot....
“—No, it is not a lot. I’m worried about my best friend, man. Either way, I’m not asking you permission.” Kenji crosses his arms in response to his friend’s silent communication. “I told you it’s me and you.”
Aone frowned at his friend. He was pretty astonished by everything Kenji just said. First, Kenji is right about his own self analysis: Kenji is lazy. Which made this all the more alarming, because was Aone really that bad that his best friend felt obligated to move in temporarily?! Futakuchi was always welcome here and stayed over often, but nothing this drastic.
Second, Aone knew he was possibly moving around like a shell of a man—that’s why he avoided people unless it was in class regarding group work—but to be described as a zombie by his brutally honest friend? Ouch. What would Y/N think? Aone doubted you would regret dumping a guy like that if you were in good health and saw him at school.
Hearing your name again in his mind; Aone’s heart panged.
Takanobu’s gaze fell and shoulders sunk and Futakuchi noticed the drop. He knew his middle blocker was going through it like crazy.... and it made him sick. Kenji knew right then and there that he was right to come here.
“I know you don’t want to talk about her, Aone-san. We don’t have to until you’re ready. But I’m here, alright? Just two doors down when you want advice or you just want to watch a movie or play some volleyball. Okay?”
Still looking at his turtle slippers, Aone nodded. In his state, he couldn’t help but feel a bit better because his best friend cared so much about him.
Just then, Aone felt a sharp slap on his back that couldn’t have come from Kenji and an excited voice next to his ear.
“MORNING!!!!!! WHERE CAN I FIND THE FLOSS— OH! BOTH OF YOU ARE AWAKE!”
Koganegawa‘s eyes were barely open as he joined the two boys in the hallway, yawning in the midst of his loud greeting.
Startled that Kogane was in his house too, Aone gave him the same alarmed expression he’d initially given Futakuchi.
Kanji looked confused, so he nudged Futakuchi. “I’m not as good as you yet, dad. What does that look on Aone-senpai mean?” He asked, stretching his arms in fatigue.
In response, Kenji reached up to pinch his ear, yanking it down.
“OI! ITAI!” The setter cried.
Kenji spoke calmly.
“Takanobu-san is wondering what you’re doing here. And I’m wondering why you’re so loud in the mornings!!” Futakuchi let go and Kogane rubbed his now red ear, fully awake now. He glared at Kenji for a moment😡before his eyes met the middle blocker’s and softened.
“Hey, Mom. That abusive parent 👈🏻 mentioned something about staying here for a few days or weeks, and I begged him to let me come. I worry about you, too, you’re like a big brother to me, and I’m here for you just as much as he is.” Kanji smiled brightly at his older friend.
For the first time since you’d broken up with him, Aone felt his heart tighten for a different reason other than heartache. For one brief moment, Aone felt a few links in the heavy chain wrapped around his heart fall off. Albeit minimally, his friend’s endearing actions made him feel lighter.
————————————
Outtake #13: CLICK HERE
Sneak Preview of the next dramatic Outtakes:
A pissed off Kenji Futakuchi confronts Y/N upon your return to school 👁👄👁
Aone and Y/N must work together for a school project....... 💔 awkward, or an opportunity? The answer may surprise you.
Taglist: @crushzone @galagcica @chaichai-the-weeb @nairobiisqueen @bisasterrr @juminly @simply-not-the-same
#aone takanobu stories#aone takanobu x you#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu smut#haikyuu stories#aone takanobu#kenji futakuchi#koganegawa kanji#hq headcanon#hq headcannons#haikyu headcanon#haikyuu headcannons#aone x reader#aone x y/n#aone x you#haikyuu boys#haikyuu!!#haikyuuwritersnet#haikyuu angst#hq series#hq angst#haikyu angst
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strawberry girl pt 2
taehyung x reader; college au; childhood best friends to lovers au; jock!fratboy taehyung
genre: fluff; major angst lol
word count: 11k
summary: i can pretend i don’t miss you. i can pretend i dont care. all i want to do is kiss you. what a shame you’re not here
part 1 here part 3 here; part 4 here; part 5
playlist vibes
electric | alina baraz ft khalid
goodnight n go | ariana grande
here | alessia cara
teenage dream | katy perry
floating | alina baraz ft khalid
singularity | bts
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------You woke up in a panic to the shrill sound of your phone alarm. You turned over to your side to shut off the alarm, briefly glancing at your roommate’s empty bed. 10:34. You rubbed your eyes while yawning, you had a restless night of sleep. You couldn’t stop thinking about Taehyung. You felt butterflies in your heart when you thought back to last night: the way he called you cute, the way he hugged you, the way he nuzzled the crook of your neck. But those warm feelings were immediately squashed when your phone buzzed.
Tae: hey so i got a bit held up but i just need to shower and ill be at lilys! I’m sorry!! 🥺
Then, you remembered what actually went down last night. Jennie telling you Taehyung would never even look at someone like you, some girl grinding on Taehyung, and, oh yea, the fact that he fucked some girl last night and that’s definitely the reason why he’s late this morning. Your mind was swimming with thoughts. You exhaled deeply and sat up in your bed, staring at your wall covered in polaroids. Taehyung doesn't like me. Why would he like me? You’ve seen the girls he’s been with. They are so beautiful. How could someone like you even compare?
You fell back into your pillows and wrapped your arms around your fluffy white pillow, hugging it. And you don’t like him either. You can’t. Because you can’t handle all the pain that comes with it. Your phone buzzed again.
Tae: should be there in 10
You: same
It was definitely a lie but you doubted Taehyung would be on time.
Tae: ur lying. Ur def just lying in ur bed. Bet ur still in pajamas
How the fuck did he know you so well.
You: 🖕🏽
Tae: 🥰
God, he is such a headass you thought, shaking your head. You managed to pull yourself out of bed but all the while you got ready, you kept thinking about him. You wondered if he thought about you as much as you thought about him. Probably not.
You were definitely 20 minutes late but you really didn’t care since it was just Taehyung. You pulled open the door of the diner and inhaled the scent of freshly cooked waffles and fried eggs. You scanned the restaurant and saw Taehyung sitting in a corner booth. He was wearing a light grey sweatshirt. You loved that sweatshirt. You thought he always looked adorable wearing it. You walked over and sat across from him. He was so absorbed in his texts that he didn’t notice you sit down.
You stared at him and he still didn’t look up. Annoyed, you huffed loudly but he still was preoccupied in his phone.
Fine. He’s being a little bitch then. You leaned over and flicked his forehead and he yelped loudly.
“Ow! What the fuck was that for?” He said whining.
You huffed, “Oh shut up. I’ve been sitting here for like ever and you've been just staring at your phone.”
He was rubbing his forehead, “Sorry I didn’t mean to ignore you. It’s just like there’s a lot happening at once.”
You were about to ask him what was going on but then the waitress came by to take your orders.
You ordered chocolate chip waffles and Taehyung ordered 4 different dishes. You glared at him as the waitress took your menus away.
“What? I’m hungry.” he said innocently.
“Whatever. You're paying. Anyways, what’s going on?”
“Oh yea, so like we just have this huge game coming up next week. It’s against our rival school and it’s the championship game.”
You interrupted “It’s the championship game already?”
He gruffed, “You would know if you came to any of my games.”
Oh shit. Taehyung had been asking you to come to at least one of his games, but you had been brushing it off. You had been giving him the excuse of having too much school work. The truth was you didn’t really want to go to his games and see his personal cheerleading squad on their knees for him. Hana went to a few games to see Jungkook play and she told you about them. Jennie was the leader of the group of the three girls and they were at every game, wearing their cheerleading uniforms, screaming Taehyung's name. The very notion of it made you feel nauseous so you just avoided going to any of his games just so you didn’t have to witness it. It’s not that you had a direct issue with the girls themselves but they were just a reminder that Taehyung would never look at you the same way he looked at them.
“Oh sorry. I told you it w-“
He interjected, “Yea, I know you said you needed to study.” He looked upset. Fuck. The words came out of your mouth before you realized, “I promise I’ll be there for the game next Saturday.”
His eyes lit up, “Really?”
You nodded, “Okay so continue.”
“Yea, so we are all really stressed about the game and like Hobi hyung wants us to practice everyday for like 3 to 4 hours until the big game. But like I’m trying to take school more seriously now, and I don’t know how I can manage that much soccer on top of school. Namjoon hyung is on my side but like there’s just this huge argument in our group chat right now.” Taehyung was rubbing circles on the temples of his head.
His phone started buzzing, like he received a chain of texts. Then he growled. You were in shock. You had never seen Taehyung this pissed off before.
“Then this fucking girl won’t leave me alone.”
You were kind of scared but you asked in a calm voice, “What girl?”
“The girl from last night. She keeps fucking texting me. She won’t stop.”
“What’s she saying?”
“She keeps asking to hang out. And I don’t want to. I told her last night before anything happened that this was just a hookup. Just sex. And if she wanted something more or if she wasn’t okay with that, then I would stop. But she said she was fine with it. Then it took me forever for her to get out of my room this morning.”
“Taehyung!”
“What? “
“You kicked her out? That’s so mean!”
“I didn’t kick her out. I just said I had shit to do so I needed to get ready. But she wanted to stay and I thought she wanted to fuck again and like we did which is why I was late. But she’s still texting me. And I told her nicely that I just wanted to stay friends, but she’s relentless!”
“If she’s bothering you that much, just block her number.”
“Can I? Would that be mean?”
“Well...kinda but like if she’s causing you stress then it’s fair.”
“Okay bet.”
He instantly looked relieved. He was about to say something but then the waitress arrived with your food.
After hearing about Taehyungs fuckboi antics from last night and apparently this morning, you suddenly lost your appetite. You started slowly cutting small pieces of your waffle.
Taehyung asked in a concerned voice “Hey. Why aren’t you eating?”
“Oh. I’m just stressed. About school.”
Taehyung pointed his fork at you with his mouth full of waffles, “You need to find a stress outlet.”
You rolled your eyes, “I do have a stress outlet. I bake.”
He covered his mouth with his hand, laughing, “Clearly that’s doing jack shit. You need something better.”
You threw your hands up, exasperated, “What then? What do you suggest for a stress reliever?” Even though the cause of your lack of appetite wasn’t stress, you did feel like picking up new habits could help with your overall anxieties.
Taehyung looked you straight in the eyes and said confidently, “Dick.”
You choked at his bluntness, “Excuse me?”
He shrugged and continued to shovel waffles in his mouth, “You need dick. You’re so tightly wound up. You just need some dick to relax”
You scoffed at his words, “Taehyung, unlike you my life doesn’t revolve around sex okay? I’m honestly doing perfectly fine on my own.”
He looked at you with serious concern, “Okay, tell me this when’s the last time you got laid.”
Oh god, you were not going to tell Taehyung about your completely nonexistent sex and romantic life.
You forced your eyes to the table, looking at the marble pattern, “Uh it’s been awhile.”
He asked curiously, “How long like 2 weeks? Or..”
You moved your eyes to your plate and said quietly, “I don’t know.”
You were staring at the syrup patterns in your waffle and Taehyung seemed to be getting fed up, “Cmon _____ I tell you about my life, just tell me.”
You snapped, angrily glaring at him, “Taehyung it’s really fucking hard to get laid when you haven’t even kissed a guy yet.”
You saw his eyes widen in shock.
This is so fucking embarrassing. You covered your face with your hands, mortified.
Great now he thinks I’m a prude or a weirdo. With your million thoughts running through your mind, you realized that Taehyung was silent this whole time.
You couldn’t take the awkward silence anymore, “Okay, I’m going to leave since like it’s really fucking awkward now.” You began to slide out of the booth, but then Taehyung grabbed your hand, “No! Sorry I didn’t mean to make it weird. I’m just shocked I guess.”
You sunk back down into the booth seat and snatched your hand away from him.
“I don’t really think it’s a big deal that you haven’t done anything but like is there a reason why?”
“I dunno. School is just like all I focus on so it’s kept me busy.”
“That’s such bullshit. School doesn’t occupy every waking moment of your life so there’s obviously more to it.”
You racked your brain. There were many reasons why. One of them sitting across the table in front of you. You could give him a partial truth. You sighed and fiddled with your fingers, “Because I want my firsts to be with someone I love. I’m so scared of regretting it if I just gave away those special moments to someone who didn’t actually care about me.” You paused then continued, “It’s dumb I know.”
Taehyung smiled, “That’s not dumb at all. I had no idea you were a romantic.”
You squinted at him, “Yea well if you tell anyone I will personally see to it that Hoseok makes you run laps until you puke.”
Taehyung rubbed his forehead with his hand, “You give a fucking headache you know that right? There’s this one side of you that’s like an innocent naive romantic and there’s the other side of you that will start a fight with anyone who underestimates you.”
You took your straw wrapper, crumbled it, and flicked it at Taehyung, “Fuck off. I’m not that complicated.”
He, of course, dodged it, “It’s okay cause I’m the only who knows both sides of you” he said with a wink.
You internally winced because he had no idea how right he was.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You left the diner about 20 minutes later as Taehyung said he had soccer practice soon and you needed to get some work done. You were going through your mental checklist of things that needed to be done: I need to go to the grocery store and pick up some actual food I need to revise for chemistry because there’s an exam coming up. You were so invested in your thoughts that as you unlocked your room door you didn’t hear the distinct voices coming from inside.
Your thoughts of your checklist were interrupted as you saw Hana and Jungkook laying in her bed (fully clothed thank god).
Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped at the sight. At the beginning of their friends with benefits relationship, Hana made it very clear to Jungkook, they would never hook up in her room. As a result, Jungkook had never been over. You knew Jungkook from your writing course. You and him worked together sometimes, but you two weren’t close friends.
“Hey _____,” Jungkook said from the bed, in a casual voice.
“Um hey Jungkook,” you tried to say as calmly as possible because, internally, you were freaking out. If he was here, it meant something had definitely changed with Hana and Jungkook’s relationship at the frat party last night. You made eye contact with Hana and her face was completely red.
“So where were you this morning ________?” Hana said, trying to maintain a calm demeanor.
You set your purse on the swivel chair next to your desk and held up your bag of uneaten waffles, “I was at breakfast with Tae.”
“Oh nice. Are those.... leftovers?” Jungkook said in an innocent voice.
You threw the bag at him and he caught it, “Go for it. I didn’t really have much of an appetite.”
“Bet thanks,” he said, opening the paper bag and pulling out the cardboard box containing your chocolate chip waffles.
Hana looked disgusted and exclaimed, “You are not eating on my bed and getting crumbs everywhere!” Before Jungkook could retort, Hana pushed him to the ground.
“Ouch!” He said rubbing his leg that he bumped against the side of the bed.
The room was awkwardly silent because you and Hana were both staring at each other, trying your best not to laugh at the situation.
Jungkook broke the silence in a careful tone with a mouth full of waffles,”I thought Taehyung was...ya know..with someone.” He looked back and forth between you and Hana.
You said quietly, “Yea...he was.”
Hana folded her arms across her chest and said forcefully, “I don’t get him, _______. Like he literally doesn’t make any sense. I saw him last night. He was being so flirty with you. But then he goes and fucks some random girl? He’s just making things so confusing for you.”
You sighed and looked at the ground, “There isn’t anything to be confused about. He doesn’t like me. And I don’t like him. We’re just friends.”
“Well, why do you sound so sad then?” Jungkook asked from the ground. Fuck I forgot he was here.
You snapped, “I’m not sad. I’m fine. I don’t give a shit about who Taehyung hooks up with.”
Jungkook raises his hands in defeat, “Okay okay. But like I want to say, I’ve spent a lot of time with Taehyung these past few months and I’ve never seen him happier. And I know it’s cause you are in his life again. I don’t really know what his feelings are but I do know that you mean a lot to him.”
What does that mean? Does that mean he could maybe like me? No that’s crazy. He’s still fucking different girls every weekend. He couldn’t do that if he had feelings for me.
Hana shook her head, “I don’t know. This all feels really weird to me. Boys are so fucking oblivious. Men are trash.” Jungkook looked up at her and pouted.
“Except for you...I guess” she said looking down at him
You were so shocked at what was happening in front of so you just blurted out, “Okay I really need to ask because I’m so fucking weirded out right now, but are you two together?”
Jungkooks jaw dropped and he turned to face Hana. He said, hurt, “You didn’t tell ________ about us?”
“Oh shut up Jungkook. We’ve literally been together since last night. When would I have told her?“
You cleared your throat, “Wait wait just to clarify....you two are dating?”
Jungkook stood up and wrapped his arms around Hana tightly,“Yep she’s my girlfriend.”
Hana nodded weakly, “Yea I’m dating this idiot.”
You clapped your hands together, “Oh my gosh I’m so happy for you two! I’ve been rooting for this since Jungkook sent you that candy bouquet.”
Jungkook's phone started ringing and he looked at you, “It’s your man.” He answered the call before you could say anything.
“Hey man, what’s up?” Jungkook paused before his eyes widened in realization, “Oh fuck I completely forgot. I’ll be there now.”
He hung up the call and quickly started putting on his shoes and jacket, “I forgot we had a practice scheduled for today. I’m so fucking late.”
Hana rolled her eyes, “You are so clueless”
Jungkook was about to leave but he walked over to Hana and planted a kiss on her cheek, “I’m your clueless boyfriend now.”
You saw her cheeks turn red and you knew she was head over heels for Jeon Jungkook.
“Ugh just go to practice,” she said trying to remain cool.
“Bye ______! Bye, love! I’ll text you when I’m done.” he slammed the door shut.
You turned to Hana and smiled widely teasingly, “Someone’s in loveeee.”
“God I hate this,” Hana said, drowning her face in a pillow.
“You’re so whipped. But good thing he’s a simp too. You’re both perfect for each other.”
She removed her face from the pillow and looked at you with a love struck gaze, “I am so whipped. I really like him ________. And I really like being with him. I never thought I would say this but he makes me really happy.”
Your heart melted at her words. Hana was only this sappy when she really meant it. You felt a sudden ping of sadness in your heart. It’s not that you didn’t want it. You wanted love. You wanted romance. But in order for any of that to happen, someone has to like you back. Someone has to want you in that way. And that’s only something that could happen in your dreams because you had always been the girl no one had a crush on. So your fairytale romance was something that was unattainable for you. You knew if you voiced these thoughts to Hana, she would tell you that you needed to try first. That you needed to actually tell that special someone that you liked them. But you couldn’t do that because you were so afraid of rejection, so afraid of letting someone in and having them walk right out.
She noticed your change in expression softly, “Hey. What’s actually going on with Taehyung?”
You laid flat on your bed and exhaled deeply, “I don’t know. I just know I feel really unsure but I really don’t think I like him. I also think I need to stop hanging out with him.”
She didn't press further, “If you think that’s what you need, I’ll support you.”
“Thank you Hana.” You were glad she didn’t start any arguments with you. She just listened to your wishes.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------You had been sitting in the library all morning trying to avoid Taehyung. Just all of the things that he did this past week had been making you feel ~things~ but you felt sure that you didn’t like him. You knew if you hid out in the library Taehyung would never find you mostly because you were certain he had never stepped foot in the library. You told Hana where you were and made her promise to not tell Taehyung so you were quite surprised when you heard a chair pull out in front of you and there was Taehyung and his mischievous smile.
“Hey strawberry girl,” he said plopping down in the chair in front of you.
You asked in a concerning tone, “Taehyung.... you realize you’re in the library right? Like you aren’t lost?”
He was wearing black sweatpants with a plain white t-shirt. He looked like the dictionary definition of a fuckboi with his backwards black SnapBack on. With a confident smile on his face as he took out his laptop from his bag he stated, “Nope I’m exactly where I need to be.”
Alright what game is he playing? “What the fuck are you doing here?” you said in a harsh whisper.
“You know what I realized? Everyone thinks you’re this naive innocent girl but I swear we have not had a single conversation where you didn’t say fuck.” He saw your pissed off face and then went on to say, “But if you are so curious, I’m here to do work. You’ve bailed on me all week claiming you had ‘work’ so here I am. You’ve really forced my hand. Bringing me to the library to study. Imagine that.”
“Taehyung, I came here to do work alone because you always distract me.”You looked up from your books and noticed the sly glint in his eye and realized what you had done. But it was too late.
Taehyung broke out into his signature huge smile and said, “Oh so you find me distracting?”
“That’s not what I meant Taehyung. I mea-”
He ran his hand through his hair and raised his eyebrow at you, “Is it because of my insanely good looks or because of my witty charms?”
You dropped your head against the notebook lying out in front of you and then looked Taehyung directly in the eyes saying, “God, I hate you”
He raised his eyebrow in a cocky manner with a wide grin on his face, “You're lying.”
“Oh fuck off.”
“It’s okay cause I know you love me.”
Your stomach did a flip flop. You caught yourself; he didn’t know anything because there was nothing to know.
“How the fuck did you know I was here?” you said exasperated.
“Your best friend has a weak will. Maybe don’t trust her with secrets.” He then did his annoying wink that always sent chills up your spine.
Why did Hana tell him? Whatever. It was too late now. You resumed taking your notes and luckily Taehyung was able to do his work quietly.
You became absorbed in your biology textbook until you heard a squeal, “Taehyung!”
You looked up and saw a really pretty girl standing by your table. She looked vaguely familiar but you couldn’t place where exactly you had seen her. She had a huge smile on her face as she was intently staring at Taehyung.
Taehyung looked up from his laptop with a bit of a shocked expression on his face. He glanced at you quickly and then looked at the girl, “oh hey Eunjae.”
She was twirling the front strand of her hair with her finger and giggled, “What are you doing here at the library? I’ve never seen you here before.”
He chuckled nervously and nodded his head to you, “I’m here studying with _________.”
She turned her head to you and flashed a gorgeous smile. You gave a smile back and then went back to looking at your notebook. “So what are you studying?” She said leaning her hands on the table, craning her neck to see his laptop.
“Um I’m working on a paper. It’s due next week so I’m trying to work on it before I get busy with practice,” Taehyung said, typing on his computer.
“Oh yea! The championship is next Saturday. I’m so excited to be there to cheer for you! I've been to every game this season so I would never miss your biggest game!” Eunjae said gushingly.
“Oh wow. That’s really nice of you to come to every game.” Taehyung said.
Ugh. If he’s going to flirt, why does he have to do it in front of me? You tried hard to focus on your biology notes but the conversation between Eunjae and Taehyung was especially distracting. You were hoping she would leave soon so you could study in peace but once she pulled out the chair next to Taehyung to sit down, you knew she wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon.
You tried to tune out their conversation but something Eunjae said caught your attention. You weren’t sure exactly how Eunjae and Taehyung knew each other. You figured it was because she came to every game but even Taehyung didn’t know that. Then she said softly, but definitely loud enough for you to hear, “You know, Tae, I had a really good time with you last weekend. I was wondering if we could maybe hang out this weekend or something.”
Last weekend? Then it clicked. Eunjae was the girl at the frat party. She was the girl who was sitting on Taehyung's lap. I guess Taehyung never actually blocked her number. Of course he wouldn’t. She’s a really pretty girl giving him attention. You internally rolled your eyes.
You heard Taehyung clear his throat, “Uh yea. That sounds good. But like this would be just as friends?“
She gave a high pitch laugh “Of course! I just want us to be friends. And then I mean, whatever happens, happens right?”
Taehyung said, “Yea I mean that’s fine with me.”
You hoped the conversation would end there because it was becoming excruciatingly awkward for you since both of them were blatantly ignoring your presence. But of course it didn’t end there, and Eunjae began talking about the cheer team to Taehyung.
You didn’t want to be rude but you honestly felt yourself losing brain cells at this conversation.
You had enough of their flirting because it was distracting you from doing your work. Not because you were jealous or anything. You closed your notebook and started packing your stuff. The sound of your backpack zipper caught Taehyung's attention and snapped him out of his conversation with Eunjae.
“Hey _______ you're done studying?”
You didn’t really wanna want to get into a conversation with Taeyhyung so you simply nodded.
But of course Taehyung wasn’t satisfied, “So what are you doing now?”
You rolled your eyes. Why couldn’t he for once mind his own business? Eunjae desperately wanted his attention. Why couldn’t he just give it to her and not involve you?
“Back to my dorm.” you said not looking at him. “Bye Eunjae. Bye Tae.” And you stalked off.
You didn’t look back at him.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You were going to murder Hana. You told her specifically not to tell Taehyung where you were. But what did she do? She told taehyung.
You burst your room dorm open and there she was laying on her bed, with her laptop balanced on her knees.
You smiled sweetly at her, “Hana, I'm going to kill you.”
“Perfect, because I’m really sick of studying for chemistry and if you could kill me before our exam next Wednesday, that would be great.” she said excitedly.
You dumped your stuff on the ground and jumped onto your bed, “Maybe then I won’t kill you, so you can suffer.”
She laughed, “Okay okay but what did I do?”
You tapped your index finger to your cheek, pretending to think, “Um...lemme jog your memory. Did a certain headass ask where I was today?”
Her smile dropped from her face, “Oh fuck.”
“Yea oh fuck. I told you that no matter what, Kim Taehyung was to not find me. What happened?” you exclaimed as you slammed your head against your pillow.
Hana sat up straight in her bed, crossing her legs beneath her, “I’m sorry okay! I really did try to keep it a secret but he came over here because you weren't answering your phone. And I told him you were busy and he just kept on badgering me. I ended up telling him to shut him up.”
“Ugh. He actually came here? That’s so gross. Did he say what he wanted?”
“No he just said he needed to see you. Did he ask you anything at the library?”
You thought about it for a minute, “No he didn’t ask me anything.”
“Well then,” Hana said in a smug voice, crossing her arms.
You turned your head to face her, “What?”
“It’s obvious _______.”
“What’s obvious?”
“Oh my gosh how are you this dense? He likes you.”
You scoffed in disbelief, “He doesn’t.”
“Cmon _______. When he came in here he was begging for me to tell him where you were, it was annoying but he was so genuine. I can tell there’s something.”
“There’s nothing.” you said flatly, turning away from Hana.
She said insistingly, “Why are you being so negative about this? He’s trying so much with you!”
You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, “Hana, I can’t fucking like him. I did once and it fucked me over.”
She went quiet. “What happened?”
“When we were highschool, I liked him. I’m pretty sure I loved Tae. And I was so sure he felt the same way. He gave me so much attention just like now. He cared about me so much. I was so convinced he liked me too. And when I was going to tell him, he said he started dating someone. And that someone became his forever for highschool. It fucking hurted so much, seeing him with her. It broke my heart over and over. And I just needed to get the fuck away from him. Because the worst part was, he had no fucking idea I was hurting so bad. So yea, I don’t think he likes me and even so, I don’t like him anymore. I honestly don’t have the emotional capacity to fall in love again.”
Hana whispered, “I’m sorry. I think you’ve moved on and I don’t want you to go through it again. Whatever it is, I’ll be there for you. I’ll help you keep your distance from Taehyung.”
You opened your eyes and looked at her. You were so grateful to have such an understanding friend like Hana, “Thanks. You’re such a good friend.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Your plan to keep distance from Taehyung was going down the drain really quickly. It started off with an unlikely text.
Jimin: hey ________ this is last minute but i had an idea. This is jimin btw.
Jimin texting you was a bit out of place. You had only exchanged brief hellos and words when you encountered each other.
You: hey jimin. whats ur idea
Jimin: taes birthday is during break so I was thinking we could surprise him and celebrate it early.
You: when were you thinking
Jimin: this Saturday. That way we can all have some fun before finals and the soccer match
This Saturday was a bit soon but you figured if anyone could pull it off, it was Jimin.
You: sounds good. But we better start planning right away
Jimin: already on it. Jin hyung said we could use his apartment
Kim Seokjin. You hadn’t personally met the guy but you knew he was on the soccer team and in the BTS frat. However, since he was a senior, he lived in an apartment off campus.
You: bet. We need to figure out food, desserts, and invites
Jimin: do you want to meet up tonight to figure out all the details
You: sure.
Jimin: you can come by the frat tonight. Taehyung will probably be out.
After finishing some homework, you grabbed your jacket and walked over to the BTS frat. As you approached the door, you saw Jungkook and Hana leaving.
“_______? Are you here to see Taehyung? I think he just left,” she said with concerning eyes.
“Hey Hana. I’m actually here to see Jimin.”
Her mouth gaped open but before she could ask you any questions Jungkook pulled her along.
“Sorry, love, but you can interrogate ______ later. We’re going to be late!”
“Bye Hana! “ you called as she waved bye.
You walked into the house and saw Jimin sitting there with Namjoon and Hoseok. You knew Namjoon because he was your biology lab TA. He had helped you with many frustrating biology labs and he was probably the only reason why you were passing the class. You only heard about Hobi from Tae’s stories of soccer practice.
“Hey_____!” `Jimin called motioning for you to sit down.
“Hey,” you gave a little wave to all of them.
Hobi smiled brightly “I don’t think we’ve met properly but I’m Hobi. “
You smiled and introduced yourself to him.
“Finished with your biology lab presentation?” Namjoon said with his dimpled smile.
You chuckled nervously and brushed your hair behind your ear “Uhh working on it. It’s taking much longer than I thought it would.”
“Phylum Nematoda is definitely a hard topic because there’s not that much information,” he said understandingly.
“I know and it’s jus-“
Jimin interjected your incoming rant, “As riveting biology lab is, we are here for a reason.”
“Right! So Yoongi is taking care of the catering. He has a family restaurant that he claims served the best korean food in the area so we don’t need to worry about that,” Hobi said reading off his phone.
“And Jimin knows all of Taehyung's friends so he will take care of all the invites,” Namjoon said.
“And all there’s left is the theme and desserts,” Jimin confidently stated.
You were confused “Theme? Why do we need a theme?”
“It would be fun ________!” Jimin said. “It can be lowkey but I was thinking we should do a formal theme. To appeal to Taehyung's bougie side.”
You thought for a moment and nodded, “Taehyung honestly does love getting dressed up.”
Hobi stood up from the couch and said, “Okay so then it’s settled. Everything is planned.”
Namjoon laughed and you chimed in, “Not yet. But I can take care of the last part. I’ll order a cake for Taehyung and have it delivered to Jin’s apartment.”
Jimin stood up and stretched his arms, “Okay, now everything is planned.”
You got up and said goodbye to Namjoon and Hobi as Jimin walked with you to the door.
Jimin smiled at you, “Thanks for coming and helping us plan this. Taehyung’s going to love it. He’ll definitely surprised”
You both stepped outside and stood on the porch. “I mean I’m not sure how much I’m doing but I'm glad to help,” You said with a light laugh.
“Well we’ll try to clean up Jin hyung’s apartment and decorate it on Saturday before the party. If you're free, we could definitely use the help then.”
“Yea I’ll be there. You can text me the details.”
You were about to head down the steps and say bye to Jimin when you saw Taehyung and someone else walking up to the house.
You were trying to see if there was maybe a way you could hide from him or leave from a side path but it was too late. Taehyung had seen you.
“_______! You’re here? You didn’t tell me you would be coming over” he said walking onto the porch. You didn’t recognize the girl he was with but with her arms wrapped around Taehyung, it was clear that they were going to hook up.
You gave Jimin a panicked look. Before you could say anything Jimin put his arm around your shoulder, just like how Taehyung did at the party, and said, “Well she wasn’t here to see you. She was here to hang out with me.”
You smiled weakly ,“Yep. Jimin and I were just studying chemistry. We have an exam coming up/”
“Yep chemistry,” he said nodding.
Taehyung had a weird look as if he were mad or something. His eyes lit up with a dangerous, angry glint that sent a shiver down your spine, “Oh. That’s nice. I didn’t realize you guys studied together.”
You knew Taehyung well enough to know that he was using his fake polite voice. Jimin glanced at you and you realized he also knew that Taehyung was angry.
“I just was having some trouble and _______ said she would help.”
Taehyung's eyes narrowed, “Maybe you should just get a tutor next time.”
You could sense the tension escalating, “Yea that’s probably for the best. I don’t think I was very helpful anyways.”
Taehyung opened his mouth to say some retort but the girl by his side whined, “Taehyung, can we please go inside?”
You smirked. Taehyung had been kind of irritating you with his weird interrogation so you plastered a fake smile and said in a fake sweet voice “Yea Taehyung. You should go inside. It’s getting cold out here. Bye Jimin.” You waved bye to Jimin and gave a glare to Taehyung.
God, boys give you a fucking migraine.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You and Taehyung had been in that weird fight for about a day before things went back to normal. He just texted you as if nothing happened
Tae: are you busy Saturday night?
Saturday evening was Taehyung's surprise party so hopefully he wasn’t making plans then.
You: uh not sure yet. What’s up?
Tae: the guys are having a dinner to like get hyped for the game next week. Do u wanna come?
Ah. That must have been the excuse to get Taehyung to Jin’s apartment.
You: lolll no way. but try to have fun and not stress out about the game
Tae: ugh ig. wish you wanted to come tho :(
You: we can hang out some another time.
Tae: you say that EVERYTIME.
You: i mean it this time
Tae: i’m holding you to it 🍓 girl
You turned off your phone and tried to fall asleep but the warm fuzzy feeling in your heart kept you awake. The sound of your phone ringing woke you up.
You answered the phone groggily “Hello?”
“_______? Did you just wake up? I told you I was going to pick you up at 9:30!”
You looked at your phone. 9:21. Fuck.
“I’m up and ready Jimin. No need to freak out.”
“Good cause I’ll be there in five.”
Hana groaned from her bed, “Why are you up this early?”
“I have to go help set up but I should be back by 4.”
“You better. We have to get ready together.”
You quickly brushed, washed your face, and pulled on sweatpants and a hoodie. By the time you had your shoes on, Jimin was texting you to come outside. You said bye to Hana and raced out the door. You spotted Jimin waving in his black Audi and jumped in the car. You and Jimin chatted on the way there. You found yourself actually enjoying Jimin's company. He was very smart which you already knew since he was taking the same pre-med courses as you but he was also very sweet and funny. He pulled up to a very tall apartment building and you both got out of the car. You helped take out some of the boxes from Jimin's trunk that had tablecloths, plates, and other silverware. You two made your way up to the 7th floor where Jin lived. Jimin led you to his door and knocked. The door swung open and there was Kim seokjin.
“Jimin! You’re late! It’s 9:41 and you said you would be here by 9:40.”
“Shut up, hyung,” he said, shaking his head.
You got a good look at Jin and he looked like he came off of the vogue runway with his blue button down tucked into brown slacks. Were all of Taehyung's friends seriously good looking? You finally understood why there was so much hype around them. They were all hardworking, handsome, but also genuinely kind, funny, down to earth guys.
Jin took the box from your arms and said, “You must be ________. Nice to finally meet you. I’m Jin. I’m the most handsome and funny one of the BTS frat.”
You were taken aback by his forward ness but went along with his comment, “I mean your only competition is Taehyung and Jimin so no wonder that is.”
He laughed loudly, “See even she agrees and she just met me Jimin.”
Jimin rolled his eyes as he put down the boxes, “You can’t encourage him. It’ll only get worse”
Jimin, Jin and you cleaned his apartment and began to decorate. After listening to what it seemed like the 30th dad joke from Jin, you heard the doorbell ring. Jimin went over to the door and it was a guy who looked like Jin’s age carrying foil covered trays. He was wearing an oversized flannel and black skinny jeans.
“I brought the food but there’s still a shit ton more trays in my car,” he said as he entered.
He placed the trays in the kitchen and looked at you, “Who are you?”
“I’m _______” you said as you took the tray Jimin handed to you.
“Ah you're Taehyungie's girl. I’m yoongi, one of his hyungs on the team.”
You placed the tray on the table, “Nice to meet you. But I’m not Taehyung's girl. Just a friend.”
He laughed, “Maybe you should tell him that. He’s constantly talking about you. ________ made me cupcakes. ________ helped me study. ________ went to breakfast with me.“
You fought back a blush and said in a bored tone, “Yea well, We’re just friends. He doesn’t like me and I don’t like him. I’m so sure at this party he won’t even talk to me. I bet he’ll be busy with Jennie or something.” You felt like Taehyung always got distracted with other people whenever you guys went out. That’s why it always ended with you ditching Taehyung.
“Really? I’ll take that bet. $20?” Yoongi stuck out his hand.
“Bet,” you said, shaking his hand. “He has to imitate the conversation and it can’t be small talk.”
Yoongi nodded in agreement picking up a tray and putting it in the oven,“Can’t wait to make $20 tonight.”
“In your dreams.” you said as you helped him put another tray in the oven.
The cake you ordered got delivered and Jin placed the large strawberry chocolate cake in the fridge.
Since everything was ready, you and Jimin were about to head out from Jin's apartment.
Hobi called from the kitchen in a stern voice, “You both have to be here by 7:30 otherwise I will make you run laps.”
You and Jimin laughed and said goodbye to Hobi.
By the time you got to your dorm, you were kinda exhausted but Hana wouldn't hear it.
“Get up!” She said tugging your arm as you laid on your bed. You reluctantly got up and got ready with Hana. Hana had to force you to actually buy a nice outfit for Taehyung's birthday because you had left most of your nice clothing at home. You helped lace up the back of Hana’s dress and looked at her in admiration. She was wearing a satin navy blue dress that coordinated perfectly with Jungkook's navy suit.
You opted for a floor length skirt that was black with dark pink and white flowers and simple black top.
Once you and Hana were finally ready your phone read 7:15. Hana and you raced out the door after putting on your shoes and found Jungkook leaning against his car outside.
He walked up to Hana and placed a kiss on her cheek and smiled, “Wow, love, you look...so beautiful. I mean you always do but wow.”
Hana gave a shy laugh ,“You have such a way with words. You look handsome too, I guess. C'mon we have to go! Hobi is going to kill us.”
Jungkook opened the door for Hana and looked at you and smirked, “Wow ________ not wearing jeans. It’s a fucking miracle. But I guess she’ll do anything for Tae. Am I right?”
He opened the door for you and you narrowed your eyes at him, “I suggest you watch it Jeon Jungkook if you still want me to proofread your next essay.”
He smirked at you as he hopped into the driver's seat and drove to Jin's apartment.
You hadn’t realized how many people Jimin invited until you went up into Jin's apartment. Jimin had invited, of course, Jennie and the cheerleading squad, some guys from some other frats like EXO and ATEEZ and sororities like TWICE and LOONA. It honestly felt like way too many people but Taehyung was a social butterfly.
By 8:00 Namjoon arrived at Jin's apartment with Taehyung in tow. The surprise went well but you couldn’t really see much as you lingered in the back of the crowd with Yoongi.
“You know you can’t actively hide from Taehyung. That’s not a part of the bet,” Yoongi said as he shoved his hands in his dress pants pockets.
“I’m not actively hiding. I just don’t like crowds,” You said shrugging your shoulders.
Yoongi nodded, understanding the feeling. You got a glimpse of Taehyung and he looked like he just got off of a photo shoot for GQ with his black curly hair and silver earrings. He was wearing a fitting black suit with white shirt and black Tie. Instead of a handkerchief, he had a dark pink carnation pinned to his suit jacket. He was saying hello to everyone, greeting all of his guests in a friendly manner and genuinely chatting with them. You really liked that about Taehyung. He obviously had his people he didn’t like but he was always kind to everyone. He was heading in your direction but Taehyung got pulled aside by Jennie. She pulled him to the couch and practically sat on top of him. Jennie looked really pretty wearing a short satin dark green dress. You sighed, once again feeling those familiar feelings of insecurity. You knew once Jennie got to Taehyung, he would be completely distracted by her. Well at least I’ll get $20 out of it. You sat down on the opposite side of the couch and looked around.
Hana was dancing with Jungkook. Hobi and Jin were trying to get more people up and having fun. Namjoon was with his girlfriend, talking with Yoongi and a couple other guys.
You were wondering where Jimin went but then you felt someone sit next to you on the couch and heard his voice, “Hey _________ why aren’t you dancing?”
You turned to Jimin and saw his beautiful smile flashing at you, “Not really one for dancing I guess. Hana’s the one who dances.”
“Bullshit. Everyone dances. You just gotta be comfortable and have fun.”
“I guess.” You shrugged “There’s just a lot of people here.”
He smiled sheepishly, “Yea I guess I went overboard with the invites.”
“Well I mean as long as Taehyung is enjoying himself,” you said trailing off and glancing in the direction of him. Jennie was still on him, with her hands traveling on his jacket and his tie. You felt a bit nauseous at the sight.
“I think Taehyung is having a good time,” Jimin said laughing at him and Jennie.
You felt that Jimin might have sensed a bit of sadness from you at the fact that you had worked hard on this party for Taehyung and he wasn’t even talking to you as Jimin spent the next hour or so sitting and talking with you.
You could totally understand how Jimin got so many girls with his enchanting smile and charming personality. Your conversation about the stupidity of learning about the cow digestive system in biology was interrupted by Hobi calling everyone over to cut the cake.
Jin placed the cake you had specially ordered for Taehyung in front of him. Taehyung glanced at you for a second because who else would get him a cake covered in your shared favorite fruit. Jennie clung to his arm and squealed, “Okay let’s sing!”
After singing happy birthday, Jin sliced the cake while you and Yoongi took out the food.
“Seems like you’ll be giving me $20 tonight,” you said softly to Yoongi.
“Hmm, I'm still pretty confident. A little hindered for sure, but I do think you��ll be the one losing twenty bucks,” he said smoothly, uncovering the foil from the trays.
You shook your head and resumed sitting on the couch while everyone got food and cake.
You were scrolling through Instagram and suddenly felt your arm being pulled.
By the time you fully registered what was going on, you realized you were being dragged to the guest bedroom in Jin's apartment.
“Ow what the fuck!” You exclaimed, yanking your arm from the person's grip. You looked up and you saw Kim Taehyung.
He closed the door of the bedroom and walked right up to you. You had to almost crane your neck to look up at him. He looked pissed off. It was kinda hard to tell because his curls covered his eyes slightly but you could tell by his silence he was mad. But you were annoyed at his behavior: him ignoring you all night, Jennie being all over him, and him physically dragging you from the party.
You crossed your arms, “What’s your problem Taehyung? Why did you do that?”
Probably not the best way to start off a conversation with the birthday boy but you didn’t really care.
“Excuse me? You’re asking me what my problem is?” Had his voice always been this deep or is it because he’s angry?
“That’s what I fucking said, right?” You said back aggressively.
Then he growled. You had never been particularly intimidated by Taehyung but right now, you were questioning all of that.
“How about the fact that you didn’t talk to me all night? It’s my party for me and you spent the entire night eye fucking Park Jimin. You were talking to him all night and didn’t say a word to me!” He leaned his face closely to yours. His eyes were a fierce obsidian. You could smell his cologne, your knees went weak.
Why the fuck was he acting like this? Was he being jealous or was he actually just mad his friend didn’t say hi? Probably the second one.
You put crossed your arms defensively and stabbed your index finger into his chest, refusing to back down, “Okay Taehyung, chill the fuck out. I was just talking to Jimin because he sat next to me and actually talked to me. You literally went and said hi to everyone but me so it seems like you were ignoring me. Also, how could I come and talk to you when Jennie was sitting on your dick the entire party?”
He scoffed at you, “She wasn’t sitting on my dick. You could have walked over and just said hi. I don’t get why you’re hanging out so much. You’re mine.”
You widened your eyes at his words but before you could say anything He cleared his throat, “I mean you’re my friend.”
You were getting fed up with Taehyung's childish behavior, “Okay first of all, we are just friends. And I’m allowed to have other friends that aren’t you. And you don’t get to say anything about me talking to Jimin because that’s more than you did. Sometimes, I don’t understand you, Taehyung. I never say anything about the way you live your life so why are you saying shit about mine. But I guess if it isn’t clear enough, Jimin and I are friends and if your whiny male ego can’t handle that, then maybe we shouldn’t be friends.” You narrowed your eyes at him and then left the room.
You were furious. How dare he say anything about you when all you do is try to be a good friend? This just reaffirmed your feelings about Taehyung: you didn’t like him. He was completely reckless. He was being so weirdly possessive and jealous even though you two were not dating and didn’t have feelings for each other.
You put your face in your hands and sighed deeply. You felt completely drained and just wanted to go back to your bed to curl up and watch a documentary. These past couple weeks had been so busy that you barely stress baked other than the cookies you made on Monday.
You felt someone sit besides you on the couch and you peeked out of your hands. It was Taehyung. His head hung low with his curls completely covering his eyes.
He whispered in a hoarse voice, “I’m sorry. I'm a dick. And inconsiderate. And a jerk. And I shouldn’t have said those things. I don’t know why I did but I did. And I’m sorry.”
He looked at you and you saw his puppy dog eyes and melted immediately. How the fuck does he have so much control over you?
“It’s okay,” you said quietly
“No it’s not. You didn’t deserve that. You literally planned this party for me. You’re such a caring friend and I’m an asshat.”
You laughed softly, “I mean that’s true but it’s okay cause I know you're sorry.”
“Do you wanna get out of here?”
“What? Like leave?”
“Yea. I like this party and all but it's getting a little hard to breathe in here,” He said tugging on his shirt collar.
You laughed, “I’m always down to ditch a party.”
He pulled you up by the hand and led you through the crowd. He grabbed something from one of the coats hanging by the door and walked out of Jin's apartment with you in tow. You honestly had no idea where you were going but Taehyung kept a firm grip on your hand as he pressed the G button on the elevator.
“Taehyung where are we going?” You said insistently.
“Just relax. Don’t worry. I’ll bring you back to his apartment in one piece,” He said with that iconic mischievous glint in his eye. He led you to Jimin's black audi and opened the door for you. You got in and then he got into the driver's seat.
“Does Jimin know you took his car?” you said pointedly.
“Jimins has been pissing me off and it’s my birthday so he’ll be fine,” Taehyung said as he put his hand behind your chair looking to the rear view window to back up.
You kinda forgot about the destination part of the journey as Taehyung drove. You got lost in the moment of chatting with him about his friends while The Weeknd played in the background. You snapped back to reality when Taehyung put the car in park and you looked around. He had parked in a vacant parking lot overlooking the sea. You stepped out of the car and heard the soft crashing of waves. The scent of salt water immediately relaxed you.
“Nice right?” Taehyung said, making his way to the hood of the car.
You nodded, taking in the beauty and calming scenery, “How did you find this place?”
“I came out to take photos this morning and I drove around the area and stumbled on this place. I knew you would love it.” He sat on the hood of the car and patted the space next to him. You hopped onto the hood of the car and stared at Taehyung. You were always aware that Taehyung was insanely good looking but moments like this where you two were alone and you could clearly see him made you really appreciate everything about him. His boyish innocence, his kind nature, his ability to actually apologize for his actions. It only took the words ‘I’m sorry’ from Taehyung to make you forgive him.
Your eyes drifted to shine that caught your eyes. It came from the rings on his hands. His fucking hands. How the fuck did Taehyung make hands look attractive? You loved the way he wore simple silver rings on his long fingers, the way he always wore the same three bracelets on his wrists, and his vintage Cartier watch on his right hand he received from his parents. You realized you had been staring at his hands for quite some time because he waved his hand in front of your face and said, “Hello? Earth to _______? Why are you staring at my hands?”
You felt a blush creep over your face.“Oh sorry. I just was looking at your rings. It’s cool,” You tried to say as nonchalantly as possible.
“Thanks. I saw Jimin wearing rings the other day and it looked really good so I decided to incorporate it into my style.“
You cleared your throat, trying to change the subject, “So are you and Jennie like together or?”
He chuckled nervously and started to mess with hair like he usually did when he was getting nervous, “No. I mean like we fuck occasionally but like we aren’t an official couple.”
“Oh. That makes sense. I just wasn’t sure with the way she was acting today. It seemed like you guys were a couple. Other than the fact you weren’t matching.” You said with a small laugh.
“Yea. I’m honestly not sure why she’s like that. Whenever she sees me when there are other people around, she gets so clingy. And I don’t really know what to say to her because I’ve made it clear that it’s just sex,” he said, adjusting his watch on his hand. Then he looked at you, “Why do you ask?”
“Oh no reason. Just wanted to make sure.”
“Why? If I said we were together, would you ditch me again?” Taehyung said in a serious tone.
You realized he was referencing how you two became distant once he started dating Yejin.
“Taehyung, it’s more complicated than that.”
“Why is it complicated? You gave me a completely bullshit answer when I asked you.”
You sighed and turned your gaze away from him to the blue sea in front of you, “Because Tae, you can’t have a girlfriend and a girl best friend. Your girlfriend should be your girl best friend. Having both makes things complicated and I didn’t want to fuck anything up between you and Yejin. It was just easier to become distant from you.” That was partly the truth. You didn’t want to be that girl in the relationship and you truly felt that Yejin and Taehyung's relationship deserved to grow without any obstacles. Because that’s what you were: an obstacle in their love.
Taehyung gently placed his hand over yours, “I wish you told me that. I thought you hated me or something.”
You tore your gaze from the crashing waves and looked into Taehyung's dark eyes “I could never hate you.”
He smiled and winked, “Don’t worry. I know that strawberry girl. It’s comforting to know you’re just as whipped for me as I am for you.”
You pushed his shoulder, “Shut up. I’m not fucking whipped for your dumbass.”
He went quiet for a moment and looked deep into your eyes, “I think it’s really sweet you're waiting for love. That you want to experience your firsts with someone you love.”
“You don’t have to say that. It’s really fucking lame.” you said, playing with the ends of your hair, twisting the strands around your fingers.
“I don't think so. It actually makes perfect sense for you.”
“What do you mean?” you said confused, not understanding what he was saying.
“I mean there's a lot of different types of girls. Some like to fuck different people and some would rather not. And that's all fine because everyone has their preferences and a right to live their life the way they want to. I think girls like you are meant for something lasting, girls like you are meant for love.”
You wish you could tell him all of your insecurities about love and romance; that you couldn't possibly fathom someone liking you back but of course, you had insecurities about talking about your insecurities.
All you said was, “One day.”
“I think you’ll find the love of your life soon. You better introduce me to him right away.” He said chuckling, bumping his shoulder against yours.
It was getting really dark but you and Taehyung kept talking as if you had all the time in the world.
“Okay, what’s your favorite quote?” Taehyung excitedly asked. He always came up with the most random but interesting questions to ask you.
“Like from a movie or book or show or poetry?”
“Anything. I know you watch and read a lot of stuff so you must have some lines that have stuck with you.”
“Um. Lemme think. You have to do yours too.”
“Okay bet. Well mine is ‘I wish they would only take me as I am’. Van Gogh said it,” he said in a soft tone.
“Why do you like it?”
“I just...feel like everyone has this perception of me you know? And I have to live up to it.”
“What perception do you think people have of you?”
“I guess the perception that I’m some stupid frat boy who only cares about soccer. I can’t have things I care about like photography or school. I constantly have to be this upbeat happy guy. I can’t have other feelings than that. I can’t have people I care about like my hyungs or you. And I’m automatically a douche for sleeping around. I mean I just wish people understood that I never try to fuck with feelings and I’m always upfront about everything. And no one ever wants to talk to me and get to know who I am. It feels like everyone wants something from me. I just wish” he exhaled deeply, like all of his anxieties were coming out of him, “that people took me as I am.”
You were quiet for a moment. Taehyung had a lot of expectations weighing on him and you had never really considered this internal conflict he was having. You said sincerely, “I hope you get to a point in your life where you don’t have to pretend for other people.”
“I don’t have to pretend when I’m with you.”
You smiled at him “I like the real Taehyung. The one who likes sitting by the ocean and taking pictures of his friends.”
He leaned back on his arms “I’m hoping other people will too. Okay, your turn.”
“Um okay, so mine is from a book. ‘Each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done’. It’s from the book Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson.”
“Why do you like that quote?”
You thought for a moment carefully choosing your words, “Because so many people are hard on themselves. Myself included. And we like to beat ourselves up for the mistakes we made. Just dwell on it and let these mistakes define us. It’s hard to pick yourself back up and move forward. But I guess that quote gives me hope. For myself, for humanity.”
Taehyung nodded “I agree. It’s beautiful. I think, humans as a whole, we just are wired to constantly critique ourselves.”
You added, “And also, as a society, we tend to dehumanize anyone who does make a mistake. Like with our system of law and order. Our entire justice system is fucked and is a form of systemic racism that cultivates a binary understanding of morality. It punishes individuals who make mistakes rather than working on reform. It’s just-” you realized you had been talking for a while and turned red, “Sorry I kinda just went off there”
Taehyung just stared at you with awe, “No I like hearing you talk. You’re so fucking smart. Keep going, I wanna hear more about how our justice system is fucked.”
You felt your heart flutter at his words. You continued to explain to Taehyung about the internalized racism in the American justice system and the contemporary issues that are rooted in the systemic oppression of people of color as he listened intently.
After talking for a little while longer, Taehyung glanced at his watch. “It’s almost midnight. We should probably head back.”
You agreed and went to the car. The drive back was peaceful, with you two just enjoying each other’s company. Taehyung parked Jimin's car and you guys headed up to Jin’s apartment.
Before you knocked on Jin's apartment door, Taehyung pulled you to the side. He was holding your hand gently, “Hey. I’m really sorry for how I acted today. It was really bad and you had every right to be mad at me.”
“Tae I told you. It’s okay I’m over it.”
“I know. Thanks for making this night fun.” Then he leaned and planted a kiss on your forehead. You felt his warmth envelop you. Your cheeks turned red immediately and you felt your heart pounding. It felt like time had slowed down as his eyes completely entranced yours. Completely mesmerized, you thought, All I really want to know is what’s running through your mind when you look at me.
You tried to ignore the feeling of your heart melting so you crossed your arms defensively and retorted, “Even though you ditched the fucking party I planned.”
He smirked and knocked on Jin's door, “We both know you wanted to leave.”
Yoongi opened the door and when he saw the two of you standing at the door, a huge smile spread on his face, “Well. Look who it is. I guess the lovely matching couple finally decided to join the party.”
You and Taehyung looked at each other. Fuck. It does look like you’re matching. Taehyung's dark pink carnation pinned to his black and white suit coordinated perfectly with your pink and white flowered black skirt.
“Fuck off,” you glared at Yoongi.
Taehyung just laughed and entered the apartment. As you brushed past Yoongi, he snarked “So where’s my $20?”
You flipped him off, “You’ll get it later.”
You saw that most people were gone which was a bit strange but it made clean up easier. It was just the BTS guys, Hana and you at Jin's apartment from what you could tell. You got to helping Hana clean up all the trash lying around. You were pretty absorbed in cleaning up and didn’t notice all the snickering coming from the direction of the BTS guys.
You looked at Hana in confusion and she shrugged her shoulders, also confused what they were talking about.
You heard Jimin and Hobi laughing really hard and looked over. You saw them doubled over in laughter and a very angry Jin.
“Why the fuck is this happening to me?” He grumbled.
Jungkook patted his shoulders, “Hey hyung. You just gotta let it go. It’s his birthday.”
Then it clicked to you that you hadn’t seen Taehyung since you guys entered the apartment. Hana and you walked over to the kitchen where they all were standing.
Hana, with her hands on her hips, stated, “What in the world is going on? Why are you guys laughing and why is Jin mad?”
They all go silent and look at you.
You furrow your eyebrows, “What? Why are you all looking at me?”
Then you hear it. A very loud and clear moan of Taehyung's name by none other than Jennie. Somehow you manage to remain emotionless and maintain a stone cold face but internally you felt your heart sink to the ground.
“So you guys were laughing over the fact that Taehyung is fucking Jennie in Jin’s guestroom?” You scoffed, “How old are you guys? Five? I’m trying to go home as soon as possible so if we could all hurry this all up, it would make my life infinitely easier.”
You turned your back to the group and hope they bought your indifferent reaction. You continued to clean the apartment and tried to breathe shallow breaths. You tried to ignore the sounds coming from the room as much as you could but Jennie and Taehyung were being very vocal. You felt sick, with waves of nausea hitting you. After 20 minutes, you felt like your head and heart were going to explode.
“Hey Hana. I’m really tired so I’m going to head back.”
She had a concerned look on her face, “Do you want me to come with you?”
“No, no I’m fine. I’m going to crash as soon as I get back.”
She nodded, “Okay text me when you reach.”
You gave her a hug and waved bye to the guys. You somehow were able to find the strength to make it back to your dorm.
The second you closed the door to your dorm, you sunk to the ground and the tears you had kept in came pouring out.
It hurt.
Fuck it hurt.
author’s note: thanks for reading! lmk if ur enjoying the fic so far and if u would like to be tagged. pt 3 will be up soon!
tags: @fleurmoon @tangledsparkles @chocolatebelievercrusade @brokenobserver @ncitydreamies @soulstaes @bonnyskies @thelilbutifulthings @busansgloss @imluckybitches @xlectrahearts
#bts#bangtan#bangtan boys#bangtan sonyeondan#bts fic#bts fanfiction#bts x reader#tae#kim taehyung#taehyung#taehyung hot#taehyung x reader#taehyung x y/n#taehyung fanfic#taehyung scenarios#taehyung angst#taehyung fluff#jeon jungkook#jungkook#min yoongi#yoongi#kim namjoon#namjoon#kim seokjin#seokjin#jung hoseok#hoseok#park jimin#jimin#strawberry girl
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Broken Promise
MASTERLIST
A/N: this is a little extra excerpt. PART VI: is open interpretation, but this is also how it could have ended
Thanks so much for reading it!
Warnings: Angst, alcohol intoxication, slight alcoholism
Genre: Fluff, Angst
EXTRA:
That day in the shop was a new beginning for you and Akaashi. Bokuto was so happy to see his old friend, that he started bringing him around more. You were older now and happily married to the man of your dreams. You and Akaashi both decided you could at least acknowledge the others presence. And acknowledge you did.
Your families were ecstatic that you two were talking again after so long. Weekly dinners now included Akaashi and his family. It was almost like nothing had changed after all. Akaashi could almost pretend that everything was the same as before. When he showed up to your parents with a bouquet of roses he was sure things could return to normal, it would only take a little time. He knocked and waited patiently for you to greet him, only to be met with the face of your husband's twin. He was surprised that Atsumu was there, and did a poor job concealing it. “Just because Samu closes the shop on Sunday’s, don’t mean I ain’t invited to family dinner.” Atsumu declared, eyeing him up and down.. “I am family afterall...she doesn’t like roses by the way...makes her skin breakout in hives.” he smirks, opening the door wider and leaving him out to let himself in. Akaashi leaves the flowers and steps inside sliding his shoes off. He can hear you talking to someone in the living room. Making his way inside he bows to your parents and then his own. Turning to greet you he sees you stroking your slight baby bump talking to Omi-omi about the differences in sanitization in a hospital versus a home birth. Atsumu sidles up to you, dropping a peck to your forehead before informing you that your husband would be along shortly. Akaashi takes note of the fact that both men sit on each side of you leaving no room for him to attempt a chance at one on one conversation.
When dinner was plated and everyone was seated the front door opened and you heard your husband call out his greeting. You jumped to your feet shuffling to the entryway to greet him properly. “Evening princess, these...are for you.” he grins kissing you softly as he slides the lilies in your hands. You blush softly and thank him; tugging him into the dining room. “Sit down, ill make you a plate; Akaashi-san was just telling everyone about ideas for his next big book.” you say making your way to the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase. “I don’t have much left to say on the topic...was it busy at the shop today Miya-san?” Akaashi asked, changing the subject abruptly. That first dinner and the many dinners following Akaashi had to sit and watch as you doted and loved a man that wasn’t him. He watched as your belly grew and you glowed with your pregnancy. Watching this man live the life that was meant for him did something to Akaashi. It made him feel things he didn’t think he would ever be capable of feeling. It was never a part of his plan afterall, and Akaashi always stuck with his plan.
If anyone had asked Akaashi when the drinking started, he would probably tell them it started the night of the dinner. On his way home, he had stopped by the closest liquor store and bought a bottle. He was never much of a drinker, but he couldn’t seem to get his mind to stop wandering. All he could think about was what it would have been like if he were your husband. What it would have felt like holding your hand over your growing belly. If the baby would look more like him or more like you. And everytime he saw you after that night, it was all he could think about. Instead of fixing his growing alcohol problem, he chose to hide it. Akaashi had always been good at hiding his emotions. He managed to fool you into thinking Michi wasn’t a threat after all, so no one ever suspected that he would sit at home and drink himself stupid after every interaction he had with you. They had no clue he would sit at home and stare at old pictures of the two of you. Thinking of what should have been. They had no idea that as your pregnancy continued on, all he could think about was him being the one you need. NOT the man that stole you away from him.
Around your eighth month Osamu had to take a business trip to scope out a potential location in Hokkaido. He didn’t want to leave you, but you knew it was important for him to go; so you helped pack and assured him that you would be perfectly fine. Bokuto and Akaashi met up at the front of the shop for lunch to see you closing. “Why are you closing so early [name]-chan?” Bokuto asked, confused. You laughed softly, “Osamu is out of town for the next couple days, so I shut everything down until he comes back…he doesn’t want me working too much now that I’m close.” you answer by tugging the door to ensure it’s locked tightly. “You can grab lunch with me and Akaashi!” Bokuto shouts excitedly tugging at your arm. “I would love to go Bo-chan, but I have to go meet up with my mom for my appointment.” you chide taking your hand and placing it down to your side. “We’ll walk you to the station.” Akaashi states, “It wouldn’t do good for a woman in your condition to roam around on your own.” You simply nodded and started waddling in the direction of the train station. Akaashi could only watch you plan unfolding in the back of his mind.
That evening you had fallen asleep on the couch almost immediately after facetiming your husband. It had been a long day for you following the doctor’s appointment. Sleeping soundly you didn’t hear the first few knocks on your door. The light knocking turned to harsh banging that startled you awake. Flipping the entry-way light on you made your way to the door bleary eyed swiftly tugging it open. What you did not expect was a severely drunk Akaashi hunched over your front stoop. “Akaashi-san…what are you doing here, it’s…it’s 1 in the morning?” you asked slightly pissed off. “Don’t..Don’t call me Akaashi-san”he mumbled swaying on his feet. “You always…I’ve always been..Kaashi-chan!” he continued trying to steady himself as he stepped up the stoop. “You should…you should be my wife…and that should be my baby!” the further up he got the louder he got. You took a step back into the entryway. “It doesn’t work that way Akaashi-san…we aren’t the same kids we were back then.” you chided softly, eyeing him to make sure he didn’t move any further. He stopped swaying to tilt his head and squint at you. “You should leave him.” he whispered harshly. “I could take better care of you.”he snapped his fingers. “When you have the babies, you can leave and we’ll run away together!” he swings his arms giddily excitement building at his grand idea. “I can’t do that Akaashi-san…I love Samu…he’s everything to me, and I love these babies.” you say softly stroking your protruding belly. “Why would you possibly think I could abandon them?” you asked looking straight at him now. “For us, and our future!”he states getting down on his knees. “You promised you’d love me forever, you promise me forever [name]” he sniffles hands clutching the end of your robe. You stand there wiping your tears as you try to step back. He tugs harder pulling you closer. You grab his wrist and he pulls himself up crushing his lips to yours. You open your palms and try to push him off you; but he pulls you tighter. The pressure on your lips makes you nauseous. And suddenly it’s gone. You open your eyes to find Akaashi on his back at the bottom of the stoop and Atsumu standing in front of you. With relief you drop to your knees sobs wracking through your body.
That night was the last time you saw Akaashi. Atsumu called Omi-omi to sit with you while he and Bokuto escorted him home. Bokuto stayed the night to make sure he was alright, and the next morning he told Akaashi he couldn’t be friends with him anymore. After everything he did to [name] he couldn’t. “You told her she promised to love you forever…but you stopped loving her first Akaashi…you broke your promise.” Bokuto stated walking out of the apartment.
Weeks later Akaashi could be found sitting outside a cafe in sunny California. He wrote his parents a letter apologizing for the abruptness of his leaving; but he needed a fresh start. He needed a place that would hold reminders of you. With an iced coffee and his open laptop he began to write. This would be the sequel to his best seller. He would lay it all out and pen down what really happened all those years ago. The title of his new sequel…
~Broken Promise~
A year later you came home from a photo shoot to a box on the counter. “What’s in the box babe?” you asked Osamu scanning the top for a label. He shrugged, “I’m not sure princess, a delivery man dropped it off at the shop earlier today.”he answered. As you opened the box you discussed your days and how the kids did at daycare. “They’re books, but I don’t recall ordering any.” you read the title and the author. A memory digging at the back of your brain you can’t seem to recall. The next day was your one day off. You dropped the boys off at daycare and swung by the coffee shop for a latte. Sitting in the comfort of your home you opened the first book and started reading. For the rest of the day you read the first and then the second. Closing the second book your breathing became uneven. You heaved once….twice…and finally your body started shaking as tears poured out. You pulled your knees to your chest as sobs wracked through you. Your mind falling back to the memories that started at seven and ended a year ago. You sat and you cried. You cried for the 7 year olds that made the first pinky promise. You cried for the 13 year olds that confessed their love. You cried for the 18 year olds that would never know what the future could have been. You laid yourself down and you cried, for the friend you lost and the life you could have had. And when your husband came home to you crying; he simply pulled you to his chest and let you continue to cry. Stroking your hair he whispered softly that it was okay. That it was bound to happen. And he proceeded to tell you all about the girl he saw crying in the middle of the park. How she was so strong to him and so beautiful. He continued to whisper little anecdotes from your lives together. Reminding you that he loved you and that he would never let you go. As you cried in your husband’s arms you knew that everything would be okay. You sent a silent thank you to your old friend for finally giving you the closure that you needed.
Thanks for test-reading for me <3 @dabilove27
@k-eijiakaashi the closure you asked for hopefully :3
#akaashi keiji#akaashi x reader#haikyuu concepts#haikyuu imagines#osamu miya#osamu x reader#osamu scenarios#angst#haikyuuimagine#haikyuu#haikyuu fiction#broken promise
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New Rules
Hi, it’s been a while. I was writing the sinner and the i kissed a boy Au, but I nearly sashimi-tised my finger so I couldn’t finish it earlier.
Criminal Minds
Aaron Hotchner X Male Reader
Words: 2.1k
Warning: F words
I Kissed a boy AU!
-Hotch-
It was your fault, alright. You didn’t delete your ex’s phone number from your phone. But you keep reminded yourself that it was better this way because you didn’t answer the call. If you did delete the number, you would’ve answered the call and who knows what he’d say to you. Your ex has been calling you several times during your day shift including your breaks, receiving curious and amusing looks from your colleagues.
“Either block the number or answer it,” your colleague, June raised her brows while driving.
“Damn it, sorry,” you mumbled an apology as you turned off the sound. That was a third call from your ex while you were with June.
“You know, Ben told me you’ve been getting calls.” That big mouth Ben, you inwardly growled at one of your colleagues. Ben was a good guy, but he was a blabber mouth. The ambulance slowly halted as the light turned to red. “It’s your ex, isn’t it?” She asked knowingly, she was one of the people who knew about how bad your relationship had been with your ex.
“Yeah, I don’t know why he’s calling. It’s been some time we broke up.” To be honest, you forgot how long it had been when you were with your ex-boyfriend. It wasn’t a good relationship, and he was a violent guy. You weren’t sure what you saw in him back then. An ill-tempered sanguine man, he was. Having a relationship with Aaron made the former bad relationship forgettable.
“Just don’t answer and delete the number. No, block it.” June rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why you’re dragging this staff.”
“What if something happened?” You mumbled, he might be in a trouble and might be asking for your help.
“So?” June looked at you incredulously before turning her face to front again. “He’s neither your boyfriend nor friend. You’re not a police officer or anything, you don’t have to help him. You already have that Aaron guy as your boyfriend, don’t think about others.”
You just stared outside. One by one, the cars were turning their light on as the Sun dropped to the horizon.
“You listening to me?” She narrowed her eyes as you didn’t seem to hear her. “F/N!” June yelled out your name.
You dropped your phone from start. “Shit!” You bend your waist to pick up the phone. “What the hell, Matsumoto!” But you couldn’t reach your phone as it went under the seat. “You’ve done it, thanks.” You said drily, giving up getting your phone.
“Well, you didn’t answer me,” she snorted. “You can get the phone out when we arrive.”
“Thank me for muting it, or else we would’ve traumatised by my ringtone.”
-Hotch-
You wanted to be alone but didn’t want to be in a quiet place after your shift. Your colleagues invited you for a booze, but you refused tonight. You will have your own booze, but just with yourself. With the calls, you didn’t want to bother Aaron with your depressed feelings. While walking along the street you found a boisterous bar. You peeked the inside if there was a party going on, but the noise was just from patrons talking and music. You went inside a dim lighted bar and found yourself a stool in the corner.
It wasn’t that busy so the bartender came to you as soon as he saw you sitting on the tall stool. “Hey, do you need something?” The bartender casually asked with a friendly smile.
“Yeah.” You mindlessly nodded and ordered your drink and something to eat.
Hopefully the food will be alright. He said something but his voice was buried by some patron’s yelling, and he yelled at the patron ‘hey, no fighting in here’, then he left to the kitchen for the order. With narrowed eyes, you put your phone on the bench which was still silently ringing. Can’t he just give up already? He was getting on your nerves and you glared at your poor phone.
-Hotch-
The bartender looked at the last patron of the bar. The guy who went in and ordered his drinks several times. And he was sure the guy was drunk as a sailor.
“Hey, pal, you need to go home now.” Sean looked down at the guy who was tapping his phone with his finger.
“He migh’ be there, waitin’ for me.” The drunk guy mumbled miserably. It was hard to decipher as he was slurring too much.
“You have friends? Family, I can call?” He sighed. “Hey, I don’t know what’s going on, but I have to close the bar and go home. You can’t stay here.”
“Righ’,” he rolled the ‘r’. The guy pulled out his dark wallet and fumbled out his card. “My ex’s keep callin’ me, I don wanna go back.” Despite his slurred speech, Sean could understand most of the part.
“Yeah, don’t answer your ex. Ex is ex, it’s just another stranger to you now.” Sean asserted, and the guy pouted at him. He just shrugged at the drunk guy.
Suddenly the guy’s demeanour changed. “Check, please!” He grinned at Sean who shook his head a little.
When Sean returned to him, unfortunately he passed out. “Sometimes I hate this job,” he swore under his breath. Sean tried to wake the patron, but it was futile. “Ah, fuck.”
He couldn’t call a cab now. His eyes went to the drunk’s phone and hoped it wasn’t locked. It wasn’t locked and he was relieved at that. He could just find someone to call and he just froze at the contact the patron had.
“What the?”
Sean dumbly stared at his brother’s smiling photo. He couldn’t remember when his brother smiled like that, and this guy had a photo of Aaron smiling. Which was a rarest thing in the world. Moreover, Aaron’s contact was on the favourite list with a pink heart next to his name. He was sure his face was making a ‘puking’ face. Urg, his brother smiling like that made him goose bumps. At least it wasn’t towards Sean. Anyway, if his contact was on the favourite list -with a scary pink heart- they must be close, right? Like close, close. Sean shook his head roughly, definitely not thinking his brother that way.
When he called his brother’s deep voice answered, though with affection. Sean shivered, nearly dropping the phone.
-Hotch-
Aaron was happy you called. It was rare for you to call him this late. With a smile Aaron answered your call, but there was no reply. “F/N?” He furrowed his brows, a train of thoughts quickly rushing in his brain.
“Aaron.” Aaron blinked. This voice was familiar, and he never imagined he’d hear this voice from your phone. “Hey, it’s Sean.” His brother said in a quiet voice.
“I know.” He could only managed to say that.
“This guy, is he your…?”
“If you’re looking for a word ‘boyfriend’, he is.” Aaron knew he said it rather defensively, but he wasn’t about to hear any stupid comments from his younger brother.
“Well, this is quite a first impression for both of us.” Sean tried to ease Aaron’s stiffness. “I have nothing against gay, don’t worry.”
“Why do you have F/N’s phone?” Aaron asked impatiently. He was already dressing up from his pyjamas to go out.
“He’s drunk. You need to pick him up.”
-Hotch-
Firstly, he stared at his brother, who seemed to be working at the bar. Secondly, he saw you all drunk, sleeping on the stool. You were the last customer and Sean was shrugging at Aaron.
“I thought you wanted to cook?” Aaron raised his brows, remembering a little quarrel from several years ago.
“Well, I still need to work more.” Sean shoved his hands into his pockets. “Don’t analyse me, Aaron.” He squinted his eyes towards at his older brother.
“Fine, I’ll not ask for now.” Aaron huffed. Sure, his little brother was an adult, but he will always worry Aaron. “You could’ve told me you were in the town, however.” He snapped at the younger man.
It’s been years he actually saw Sean face-to-face. Aaron understood Sean being busy when he didn’t attend Haley’s funeral, but he actually wanted his brother to be there for him.
“Hey, sorry, I was really busy. I would’ve called you sooner.” Sean held his hands up, for once admitting what he has done had hurt Aaron.
The brothers stared at each other for a minute and Aaron’s attention turned to you. “Hey, F/N,” Aaron called you softly, but you were deeply in your dream.
“He’s not waking up, you’ll need to carry him.” But Sean looked rather doubtful at his brother carrying you in a drunken state. “He already paid.” He added as soon as he saw Aaron taking out his wallet. Sean then whistled lowly as Aaron easily held you into his strong arms. “Bridal carry, does it mean he’s gonna be your wife?”
“Sean!” Aaron glared at his younger brother. Sean apologised but Aaron knew his brother didn’t mean one bit.
“I’m really sorry I didn’t call you. But I recently found this job after your birthday.” Sean scratched his head. “You can introduce him,” he nodded towards you, “when we see next time.”
“Hopefully soon.”
“Yeah, man. And tell Jack Uncle Sean said ‘hi’ Oh, by the way, he’s ex’s been calling him a lot apparently. You should do something about it.”
-Hotch-
Your head hurt. A lot. You shouldn’t have had so many drinks last night. But you did anyway and now you’re having the consequence. Bugger. Right now, you needed water. Without looking around, you headed out to get water. You could smell something delicious, but you ignored your grumbling stomach for now. Before you could reach the refrigerator, someone handed a cup of ice-cold water to you.
“Thank you,” you mumbled as you swallowed the cold water whole.
“Feel alright?”
“Nah ah.” Then you spat your water in a comical way and stared at Aaron. “What’re you doing here?”
“I thought this was my home,” Aaron said plainly as he grabbed a rag to clean the water.
Grabbing your throbbing head inwardly, you quickly looked around your surroundings. Especially several child’s drawings on the refrigerator caught your eyes. Jack’s drawings were attached proudly on the metallic surface, and one of them was Henry’s birthday drawing for Aaron.
“Sean called me, and I brought you here.”
You sat on the stool, your hands on the bench looking at your boyfriend. “Sean?”
“The bartender. He’s my brother.” If water was in your mouth, you would’ve spat it again. This time Aaron laughed at your face. “I didn’t know he was working as a bartender there. Bet he was shocked when he saw my picture on your phone.” Your first impression to your boyfriend’s brother became drunken you. Fuck. You could feel your face going hot with heat. “Don’t worry about it. Sean’s another topic for now. You’ve been getting calls from your ex, I hear?” He casually turned and moved fried eggs from the pan to a white plate.
“I, what? How?”
He devilishly smiled at your grumbling stomach. “I will set some rules for you, F/N. You can eat after if you agree my rules.”
You looked at Aaron and the food back and forth. Aaron wouldn’t do anything to harm you or do something bad, unlike your ex. You trusted Aaron. “Okay…?” You agreed hastily.
“Now, block the number. Don’t answer him.” Aaron put the plate in front of you.
“I’ve heard that a couple times last night already.”
“Well, they did give you a good advice then.” He moved back to get a fork for you. “And if he comes to your home, call me and don’t ever let him enter your house.” He placed the fork on the plate and grabbed your chin lightly. “Finally, don’t be his friend.”
“Aaron...”
“I don’t profile my family or friends, but it comes to natural for me. I can’t stop myself from picking a hint or two. He’s not worth it and forget about him. I can’t be there for you all the time, but I’ll protect you with my life. I won’t let you get hurt because of some guy.”
You shook your head, huffing out a little laughter. “You sound like jealous.”
“Wouldn’t I be when I heard your ex’s been calling you and you couldn’t block the number and became drunk?”
“I don’t intend to run away from you.”
He cupped your face and kissed you, his tongue gently sweeping over your wet lips from the water. He pulled away with a satisfied smile. “Good.”
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#Criminal Minds#criminal minds fanfic#I kissed a boy au#male reader#sean hotchner
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Over the Rainbow (ACT I)
Genre: Fluff, angst in some parts, Wizard of Oz!AU
Word count: 7.1k
Warnings: Angst, mentions of violence, kidnapping, illness, and death; fluff, some peril
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Reader x TBZ English line (Jacob, Kevin, and Eric) (feat. Sangyeon and Kim Chungha)
DISCLAIMER: I’ve changed a few elements to make this story have my own spin on it. It still follows the same basic storyline of the 1939 film.
Dust from the dirt path kicked up from Y/N’s shoes as she ran with her dog away from Mrs. Gulch’s garden. The old grouch had nearly put Toto out of his misery with her rake. Y/N she was going to be in trouble for allowing her precious dog to chase Mrs. Gulch’s cat, but all she worried about now was if her dog was hurt.
“I’m calling the sheriff, young lady!” Mrs. Gulch had threatened the second the two had escaped the garden. “And you better had put that mutt away!”
As soon as she felt far away enough from the old woman’s house, Y/N knelt down by her dog.
“Did she hurt you, boy?” she asked the small, black, wiry-haired dog as she checked his back. Toto just wagged his tail as if nothing was wrong, which told Y/N that he was fine. “She tried to, didn’t she?” –She snuggled him to her chest- “Come on. We’ll go tell Auntie Em and Uncle Henry what happened.”
It was only another half mile before Y/N spotted her family’s farm just about a football field in the distance, and within a few seconds she had reached the gate camouflaged in the white picket fence. Y/N found her aunt and uncle busying themselves in the chicken coop counting baby chicks as the little birds peeped.
Emily (Em for short) was about mid-fifties, her golden-washed hair pulled back into a low bun, revealing the wrinkles on her careworn face. She was a kind and gracious woman in town, but when she was working on the farm or busy in the kitchen, there was no stopping her. When she wanted something done, she made sure to get it done. Her husband Henry was her age, maybe a couple years her senior. He had a few more wrinkles than Em and was balding at the top of his head. Like his wife, Henry was kind and caring, but he was a little more laid back when it came to busy work. However, he was still a hard-worker and had established the farm from scratch.
Y/N had come to live with them after her parents passed when she was ten years old. It was an adjustment from the city into life in the country, but Em and Henry were gracious to let Y/N to come live with them.
“Auntie Em!” Y/N called as she rushed in, Toto following close behind her. “Auntie Em! Uncle Henry!”
“22, 23, 24,” Em counted each chick.
“Auntie Em,” Y/N was now right next her aunt, “you’ll never believe what Mrs. Gulch did to Toto. She-“
“Now, Y/N,” Em sighed, “can’t you see we’re busy? We’re trying to count.”
Y/N didn’t listen as she ran over to her uncle. “Uncle Henry, I was on my way home-“
“Did you not hear, your Aunt, dear?” Henry interrupted. “The incubator’s broke, so we’re trying to make sure we didn’t lose any babies.”
“Oh, the poor little things.” She managed to stroke one of the chicks’ fuzzy, yellow head with her fingertip. “But Aunt Em, Mrs. Gulch hit Toto right over the back with her rake, because she says he gets in her garden and chases her nasty, old cat every day.”
Em took that chick and said, “Why don’t you run along, and we’ll talk at supper?”
Y/N ignored her. “But he doesn’t do it every day,” she continued her rant. “Just once or twice a week. And he can’t catch her old cat, anyway. Now, she says she’s gonna get the sheriff-“
“Y/N, please!” her aunt begged.
With a defeated sigh, Y/N knew she wasn’t going to get her aunt and uncle’s attention right now. Instead of trying again, she decided to try to console to the farmhands, Toto trotting behind her.
All three of them were friends to Y/N. Kevin was the comedian of the group. He always got his work done, but he also new how to make others laugh while doing so. He was once caught dancing with a pitchfork when Uncle Henry played his record player to pass the time. Jacob was the gentle father figure; maybe it was because he was a dad himself. He and his wife had moved into to town about a year earlier, and Auntie Em had helped her deliver their daughter. As a farmhand, he always made sure to work hard at whatever task he was assigned. The youngest of the bunch, Eric, was Y/N’s best friend, but he always tended to act like it was something more. He was a sweetheart, but like the other two, he was a hard worker.
Most days, Eric always had a smile on his face, but now, with a smashed finger, he was not in the best mood.
“There goes my finger,” he groaned.
“Better your finger than your head,” Kevin said as he started carrying food to the pigs’ feeding trough.
“Kevin,” Y/N went up to him, “what am I gonna about do Mrs. Gulch? Just because Toto chases her old cat-“
“Listen, honey,” he interrupted her, “I’ve got the hogs to feed.”
“Now, listen, Y/N,” Eric chimed in, “you’re not using your head about Mrs. Gulch. Think you didn’t have any brains at all.”
“I have brains.”
“Then, why don’t you use them? When you come home, don’t go by Mrs. Gulch’s place, then Toto won’t get in her garden, and you won’t get in no trouble. See?”
“Oh, Eric,” Y/N scoffed. “You just won’t listen, that’s all.”
Eric began on another task before replying, “Well, you’re head’s not made of straw, you know?”
Y/N rolled her eyes and walked away from him. She wandered over to where Kevin was rounding up the pigs into their pen.
“Come on,” he commanded them. “Get in there before I make a dime bank out of you.”
Out of boredom, Y/N climbed onto the wide fence and started to walk across them, keeping her arms out to maintain her balance.
“Listen, kid,” Kevin said before filling the pigs’ trough. “Are you gonna let that old heffer mess with you? She’s nothing to be afraid of. Have a little courage, is all.”
“I’m not afraid of her,” Y/N justified as she continued her walk.
“Then, the next time she squawks, walk right up to her and spit in her eye. That’s what I’d do.”
Kevin was also the most reliable to talk to when you had a problem. Even the smallest of issues you would be facing would be met with advice from Kevin, even if it came of as a joke or a bit of sarcasm.
Y/N started to laugh, but it ended up making her lose her balance. She flew down into the pigpen as they began running around in fear of what just dropped into their living area.
Afraid of getting trampled, Y/N cried for help.
“Kevin, help!” she screamed. “Get me out of here! Help!”
Within a split second, Kevin had booked it over to her, scooped her out of the pen, and carried her to safety. Eric and Jacob helped her stand, and poor Kevin sat down with his hat off and a hand over his heart.
“Are you alright, Y/N?” Jacob asked with concern laced in his voice.
“Yes, I’m okay,” she assured, her voice trembling a little. “I fell in, and Kevin-“ She noticed the farmhand shaking; sweat beginning to run from his dark hairline. “Why Kevin, you’re just as scared as I am.”
“What’s the matter?” Eric teased. “A little pig make a coward out of you?”
“What’s all of the jabber-whopping when there’s work to be done?” Auntie Em’s voice disrupted the laughter. The other four immediately went silent. “I know three farmhands who’ll be out of a job before they know it.”
“Well, Y/N was walking along-,” Jacob chuckled as he tried to explain, but was interrupted by Aunt Em.
“I saw you tinkering with that contraption, Jacob,” she shut him up quickly. “Now, you and Eric get back to that wagon.”
“Alright, Mrs. Gale,” Jacob sighed as he began to walk away, be he almost immediately turned back around. “But someday they’re gonna build a statue of me in this town, and-“
“Well, don’t start posing for it now.”
Eric laughed, and then Aunt Em gave them some dill pickles to snack on.
Kevin took one and tried to explain what had happened, but Em put her foot down.
“It’s no place for Y/N around a pigsty,” she informed. “Now you go mind those hogs before they worry themselves into anemia.”
“Yes, Mrs. Gale,” Kevin nodded.
Em and Y/N began walking away, and Y/N took the opportunity to try to talk to her aunt again.
“Auntie Em, really,” she whined again, “you know what Mrs. Gulch said she’s gonna do to Toto? She said she was gonna-“
Em just shook her had and told, “Now, Y/N, you must stop imagining things. You always get yourself into a fuss over nothing. You just help us out today, and find yourself where you won’t get yourself into any trouble.”
She scurried off, leaving Y/N standing in shock. Her aunt was always there to help her when she needed it, but Y/N had a tendency to exaggerate things at times. She guessed that her aunt thought this was one of those times, but she understood. Maybe Mrs. Gulch was just threatening her and Toto out of spite as usual, but the look on the old grouch’s face said otherwise.
“Someplace where there isn’t any trouble,” Y/N sighed. She looked at her furry friend, who was sitting on the ground and looking up at her as if taking in her every word.
“You think there is such a place, Toto?” Y/N asked, her mind wandering as she strolled over by the old tractor. “There must be. It’s not a place you can get to by a boat or a train. It’s far, far away. Behind the moon, beyond the rain.”
She then remembered a song Aunt Em would sing to her whenever she felt sad and began to sing.
“Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high
There’s a land that I’ve heard of
Once in a lullaby
Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue
And the dreams that you’ve dared to dream
Really do come true
Someday I’ll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where troubles melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops
That’s where you’ll find me
Somewhere over the rainbow, blue birds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow
Why then, of why can’t I?”
Toto jumped up on the seat of the tractor, and Y/N snuggled him for a second before listening to a few birds chirp. She looked up and gazed up some rays of sun pouring into a tear in the clouds, lighting up the gloominess of the farm just a little bit, almost giving a sense of hope.
Y/N then finished her song.
“If happy little blue birds fly beyond the rainbow,
Why oh why can’t I?”
-
“That dog is a menace to the community!” Mrs. Gulch barked. “I’m taking him to the sheriff to have him destroyed.”
The forty-something year old woman sat up straight in the chair across from Em. Her raven locks were pulled into a tight bun, and her hat was perched on top of her head as if it would fly off at any given moment. Mrs. Gulch had dressed in her Sunday best, but she wasn’t here for a church sermon. She had come for something sinister.
Her words were like punch in the stomach to Y/N. “D-Destroyed? Toto?”
Mrs. Gulch gave a slight nod.
“Oh no, you can’t,” Y/N begged. “You mustn’t! Auntie Em, Uncle Henry, you won’t let her take him, will you?”
Uncle Henry gave her a reassuring smile. “Of course we won’t, dear,” he promised. “Will we, Em?”
Y/N turned to her aunt, who now had a conflicted look on her face.
“Please, Auntie Em,” she begged. “Toto didn’t mean to. He didn’t know he was doing anything wrong. I’m the one who should be punished. I let him go in her garden. You can send me to bed without dinner.”
“If you don’t hand over that beast,” Mrs. Gulch threatened. “I’ll bring a damage suit that’ll take your whole farm. There’s a law protecting folks against dogs that bite.”
“How about if she keeps him tied up?” Em suggested. “He’s really gentle, with gentle people, that is.”
Mrs. Gulch was taken aback at her neighbor’s words. “Well, “ she huffed, “that’s for the sheriff to decide.” –she reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper- “Here’s his orders allowing me to take him, unless you want to go against the law.”
Auntie Em took the sheet and read it, and Uncle Henry came over to take a look at the order as well.
“We can’t go against the law, Y/N,” Em shook her head as her voice began to shake. “I’m afraid poor Toto had to go.”
“Now you’re seeing reason,” Mrs. Gulch scoffed as she opened her basket. “Here’s what I’m taking him in, so he can’t attack me again. Just put the little rat into the basket.”
This triggered Y/N’s anger even more. “NO, I WON’T LET YOU TAKE HIM!!!” she screamed as she forcefully pushed the basket away. “YOU GO AWAY, OR I’LL BITE YOU MYSELF!”
“Y/N!” Em snapped.
Y/N didn’t take her angry eyes off of their grouchy neighbor. She could feel her tears start to push through.
“You wicked old witch!” she spat as her tears started to fall. “Uncle Henry, Auntie Em, don’t let her take Toto.”
Mrs. Gulch tried to grab Toto out of Y/N’s arms, but she fought against her.
“Henry, just put Toto in the basket,” Em sighed as she massaged one of her temples.
As much as Y/N wanted to resist, she wouldn’t fight her beloved uncle. He was a gentle man, not a fighter. Unless matters got too out of hand, then he would take the appropriate action to settle a dispute. This being why Y/N froze the moment he gently pulled Toto from her arms. The same man who had given her a best friend when she was fourteen was now the one taking him away from her. Sorrow even began to grow on her uncle’s face.
The water works flowed as she watched her best friend being put into the wooden basket. Toto even started to whine a little. Y/N’s heart felt heavy, her head dizzy, and she felt sick. Her feet ran her to her bedroom. She slammed the door and threw herself on the floor and sobbed. She was heartbroken.
For about ten minutes, Y/N cried on the floor, not caring who heard. Toto. Her sweet little dog. Y/N had only tried to let Toto run around to exercise, but why the old grouch’s garden of all places, she’ll never figure it out.
Once she was calm, she sat up and leaned against her bed, beginning to accept that Toto was gone for good.
Two little barks interrupted her thoughts. She looked up and Toto jumped through her open window and onto her bed. He licked her face as if to say, “I’m never leaving you.”
“Toto!” she cried before embracing her pet. “Oh my gosh! You came back!”
Y/N held Toto for about a minute before she realized, “They’ll probably be looking for you once they discover you’re gone.”
Although he was only a dog, Y/N always knew he was smarter than the average canine. If he somehow escaped Mrs. Gulch’s basket, he could possibly escape bigger situations than that.
However, Y/N wasn’t about to let anyone take Toto away from her again. She pulled back, looked at Toto in the eye, and said, “We’ve got to run away.”
As soon as she had packed all that she would need and could carry such as some clothes, shoes, and some of her own money stash from under her bed, she and Toto escaped out of her bedroom window. The two of them took the back roads and headed south. Y/N didn’t know where she was going, but she wanted to be as far away from all of her troubles as much as possible.
After a few minutes of walking, Y/N and Toto came across a large caravan painted in blue with gold and red lettering declaring, “Professor Lee! Acclaimed by the Crowned Heads of Asia.” The closer Y/N got, she could hear a man’s voice singing random tunes.
The owner of the voice then rounded the corner of the caravan and immediately spotted Y/N. He was fairly tall, young man of Asian decent and wore a dark green suit and chocolate brown dress shoes.
“Well, a house guest,” he greeted her with a smile before crossing over to sit by a fire pit that Y/N just now noticed was burning. “Now, may I ask who you are? No, don’t tell me. Let’s see.” –He scanned Y/N up and down- “You’re…going on a visit.”
Y/N shook her head.
“No, that’s not it.” The professor thought again. “You’re traveling in disguise. Nope, wait, you’re running away.”
“How did you guess?” Y/N asked with a smile.
“Professor Lee Sangyeon never guesses,” he claimed with a chuckle. “He knows. Now, why are you running away? No, don’t tell me. Uh…They don’t understand you, or appreciate you. You want to see the world. Cities, oceans, mountains, everything.”
Y/N nearly jumped out of her shoes. “It’s like you could read what was in my head! Oh, please, professor, could Toto and I join you and see all of the crowned heads of Asia?”
“You know any?” Professor Lee asked, then realized what she was talking about. “Oh! Well, I don’t do anything without consulting my crystal first. How about we head inside and I’ll show you?”
Sangyeon guided Y/N to the entrance of his caravan, allowing her to step in first. The inside of the caravan was full of all sorts of treasures. A skull sat on top of the doorframe, colorful paper lanterns lined the ceiling, small jade figurines of various gods lined the walls, and suede furniture sat in the center of all of his collection of treasures. Wax candles sat on each side of the chairs. The furniture surrounded a small wooden table with the most sparkling crystal sphere Y/N had ever seen perched in its holder.
“Have a seat,” Sangyeon motioned towards one of the chairs. When she did so, he began lighting each candle. “This is the same magic crystal used by the priests of Isis and Osiris in the days of the Pharaohs of Egypt in which Cleopatra saw the approach of Julius Caesar and Mark Antony and so on and so forth.”
Y/N watched in awe as the professor prepped the room for his reading. She knew it was probably all an act for a circus somewhere, but she still wanted to see what he was doing.
“Now, you’d better close your eyes, my dear,” the professor instructed. “Just for a moment to be better in tune with the infinite.”
With a nod, she did as she was told. What she didn’t realize was Professor Lee was looking through her basket to find some sort of picture of her and her family to better set up his act. He found one of her, Uncle Henry, and Aunt Em taken in front of the farm the previous summer.
“We can’t do these things without reaching out into the unknown,” he continued before putting the picture back in the basket. “Alright, you can open your eyes now, and we’ll gaze into the crystal.”
Y/N opened her eyes again and watched as the professor stared the crystal ball as if he were studying it very closely. She couldn’t see anything happening, but the act displayed in front of her was making her believe it was real.
“What’s this I see?” he asked to no one in particular, his eyes glued to the crystal. “A house with a picket fence, and a barn with a weathervane. And also, a running horse.”
“That’s our farm,” Y/N pointed out.
“And there’s a woman with graying hair at the temples, a striped dress, and she has a careworn face.”
“That’s Aunt Em.” Is he really seeing everything? She thought.
“Short for Emily?”
“That’s right. What’s she doing?”
Professor Lee’s face twisted into a confused expression. “I can’t quite see. Oh, she’s crying. Someone has hurt her. Someone has just about broken her heart.”
Y/N’s own heart was about to break just hearing this. Of course she was angry that Toto had to be taken away, but was running away the best option?
“Me?” she asked.
“Well, it’s someone she loves very much,” Professor Lee shrugged. “Someone she’s been very kind to and cared for in times of sickness.”
Y/N was getting anxious. “I had really bad pneumonia once. But she stayed right by me every minute. What’s she doing now?”
He had figured she was running away out of some sort of anger, and just from the picture he could tell she was close to her family. Y/N was the first young person to come to him in hopes of finding something better, however, he knew he should at least try to help them make amends with their families. Y/N was no different.
Seeing how upset Y/N was getting, Professor Lee had one last trick up his sleeve. Glancing at his crystal again, the professor’s face displayed a look of shock. “What’s this? She’s placing her hand on her heart, and dropping down on her bed.”
“No,” Y/N began to sob.
“I’m sorry, my dear, but the crystal’s gone dark.”
She couldn’t stay any longer. If her beloved aunt was having a heart attack or stroke, then she needed to go home and try to help her or call a doctor.
“You don’t think she could really be sick, do you?” Y/N suggested as she hastily stood from her chair. “Oh, I’ve got to go home right away!”
“What’s this? I thought you were going to travel with me.”
“Oh, no, I have to get to her right away. Come on, Toto.”
The dog immediately followed Y/N out of the caravan. Professor Lee also followed her out and waved good-bye to her.
“Good-bye, Professor,” Y/N called back to him. “And thank you!”
Professor Lee noticed the drastic change in the weather. What began as a sunny autumn day quickly turned into a mighty windstorm. A tornado was approaching, and he needed to get himself and his horse to the nearest shelter possible.
“Woah, there, boy!” he instructed his horse, Gold Foot, as he caught hold of his reigns. “Better get undercover. There’s a storm brewing up. Poor kid. I hope she gets home alright.”
Back at the farm, chickens were running around panicked, horses were neighing in fright, the cows didn’t seem to care, but the pigs squealed in terror. Kevin and Eric were busy getting the animals to safety as much as possible. Jacob had rushed home to join his wife and baby daughter in their tornado shelter. He helped as much as he could, but Em and Henry told him to go home and protect his family. However, it was still chaos.
“Hurry up and get them horses loose!” Kevin shouted orders to Eric over the loud and wailing winds. “Where’s Jacob?!”
“He has a wife and child to protect!” the younger farmhand reminded him. “So he’s gone into shelter with them!”
Kevin looked up at the sky as Eric went to release the horses from the barn. No longer was it just a partly cloudy day. The sky was covered in a thick black, blanket as a cylinder of wind and dust violently pirouetted though neighboring fields.
“It’s a twister! A twister!” Kevin cried.
Em and Henry gathered everything they needed for the shelter such as food, lanterns, and a few blankets, and Em had gone to get Y/N. To her horror, her niece was missing. She thought Y/N had been in her room, but it was empty. Panicked, she ran around the house and farm, calling out for her every few seconds.
“Y/N! Y/N!” she screamed her nieces name over the tornado.
“Come on, everybody!” Henry rounded everyone up. “In the storm cellar!”
“Help me, Henry! Y/N’s somewhere out in the storm!”
“We can’t look for her now! We have to get in the cellar!”
Em was terrified she wouldn’t see her precious niece again. All she had to do was hope she would be okay once everything calmed.
The wind used all of its might to knock Y/N down as she and Toto made their way back to the farm. The dog began to bark, not wanting to brave it by standing on his own two feet. Y/N was quick to scoop him up and carry him back; leaning forward as she marched to she wouldn’t be knocked over.
“Auntie Em!” she called out. No answer.
The gate was jammed as she fought it open, breaking the lock as she did so. She had some leverage as the house blocked some of the winds force, but Y/N still had to fight her way in. She got the screen door open, but it immediately broke off and was carried off into the storm. However, Y/N was able to get herself and Toto into the house and shut the main door.
“Auntie Em! Uncle Henry!” she called again.
When she went out back to try to open the shelter, it was too late. It was closed and locked. She kicked and screamed for her relatives, but there was no chance of her getting in. She would have to brave the storm alone with her dog and hope for survival.
Y/N retreated to her bedroom, told Toto to hide, and she set her basket down.
“Auntie Em!” she called again just before her bedroom window broke off and knocked her in the back of her head. The impact knocked her out, the darkness consuming her as she fell.
-
When Y/N opened her eyes, she had no idea of how much time had passed. Toto was licking her face as to wake her up, and Y/N pet his furry head. However, the house was…moving? The wind was blowing, but it wasn’t violent. It was more like a windy day right before it rains. Wind howled much louder until a rooster’s crow broke the silence.
Looking out the window, Y/N couldn’t see anything but a dark gray wall. However, she spotted what she guessed was the roof of the farm’s chicken coop with the rooster standing on top of it. A cow floated around in the air, mooing without a care in the world. A wooden rocking chair floated up, and Old Mrs. Ahn was sitting in it and knitting a quilt. She looked up and waved hello. Confused, Y/N waved back before the old woman floated away again. Two fishermen in a rowboat were next to be in Y/N’s line of sight. They made eye contact with her, tipped their hats, and she waved.
Out of curiosity, Y/N looked down and nearly lost her balance.
“We must be up inside the cyclone!” she shouted over the wind so Toto could hear her.
When she looked back, she saw a familiar face riding her bicycle in the tornado.
“Oh!” Y/N cried out in disgust. “Mrs. Gulch!”
Then, without warning, the grouchy neighbor morphed into something horrible. She now had an ugly, green face, and was dressed in all black with a pointed hat. A large broom was now her choice of transportation. It was a witch. Frightened by the sight, Y/N retreated back to her bed and covered her eyes as the witch released an ear-piercing cackle.
The wind began to pick up. Toto jumped into Y/N’s arms and started to whimper. The house spun more times than Y/N could count. She screamed out of fright and sobbed as she didn’t know what was happening. Was she about to go out like this? She began to regret everything she had done earlier that day from the time she allowed her dog to run around in the neighbor’s garden to running away.
Then, everything stopped. The house seemed to land, and everything went silent. Her room was a mess, but that could be taken care of later. All Y/N cared about was if her family was okay. Some thick trees blocked her outdoor view, so she couldn’t see what was going on outside. She figured the house landed in the nearby woods.
“Are you okay Toto?” Y/N asked her dog. He licked her chin as if to reassure her that he was fine. She then picked him up, gathered her still intact basket, and exited her room.
The house was dark, but Y/N could make out the outlines of the furniture with the help of some light peaking through the curtains. Everything was either broken or knocked over, and a few family pictures were smashed. The important thing was that Y/N was alive, and so was Toto.
Holding Toto close to her, Y/N carefully opened her front door and almost fainted. On the other side of her front door was not her farm, but rather a new world on display in front of her eyes. Colorful plants and flowers surrounded a small duck pond and a stream leading away from it and under a bridge. Next to it was a spiral imprinted in the ground made from yellow and red bricks. In the surrounding area, small, white cylindrical houses with straw and burlap roofs populated around the pound and brick paths, but there seemed to be no one in sight. The sky above was the most gorgeous shade of blue Y/N had ever seen. It was as if she had jumped into a storybook.
“Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore,” Y/N said to her dog as she wandered around. “We must be over the rainbow.”
After setting Toto down, Y/N glanced up at the sky and noticed a spherical object floating towards her. Was it a bubble? It looked like one, but it wasn’t your average bubble. As it got closer, Y/N noticed it was changing colors and getting bigger. Stepping out of the way, the bubble, now the size of a horse, turned a bright shade of pink as it landed on the brick path.
The bubble dissolved away, revealing a beautiful woman with velvet red, shoulder-length hair and an extravagant silver crown resting on top of it. She was dressed in a sparkling periwinkle dress with glittering butterflies decorating various spots. The skirt part of her gown was almost as wide as a dinner table towards the bottom, and her sleeves were puffed as large as egg crates. In her hand, she carried a long wand with a diamond star at the top.
“Now, I definitely know we’re not in Kansas.” Y/N was speechless. It was the first sign of human life, and all she witnessed was a woman with a wand fly in inside a bubble.
The woman makes eye contact with Y/N and approaches her, her skirt flowing behind her.
“Are you a good witch, or a bad witch?” she asked.
Y/N was taken aback by her question.
“Me?” she asked, and the woman nodded. “I’m not a witch at all. My name is Y/N, and I’m from Kansas.”
“Oh,” the woman replied, and then motioned towards Toto. “Well, is that the witch?”
Y/N just giggled. “Toto’s my dog.”
“Well, I’m a little muddled. I was informed by the munchkins that a new witch has just dropped a house on the Wicked Witch of the East.” She turned towards the slightly damaged house. “There’s the house, and here you are,” –she pointed towards a pair of dark burgundy legs with opalescent shoes on the feet sticking out from underneath the house- “and that’s all that’s left of the Wicked Witch of the East.”
Y/N was in shock. She had accidentally killed someone. She felt bad, but from the tone of the woman’s voice it sounded like it was a good thing.
“And so,” she continued, “what the munchkins what to know is, are you a good witch or a bad witch?”
“But I’ve already told you I’m not a witch at all,” Y/N reassured. “Witches are old and ugly.” A plethora of giggles sounded from behind her. “What was that?”
The woman chuckled. “The munchkins. They are laughing because I am a witch. I am Chungha, Witch of the North.”
Y/N eyes nearly popped out of her head. “You are? My apologies if I’ve offended you, but I’ve never heard of a beautiful witch before.”
“Only bad witches are ugly. The munchkins are happy because you have freed them form the Wicked Witch of the East.”
“Well, if you don’t me asking, what are munchkins?” The laughter sounded again.
“They’re the little people who live here in Muchkinland, and you are their national heroine, my dear. It’s alright, now.” Her attention was on someone else. “You can all come out and thank her. Come out, come out! Wherever you are, and meet the young lady who fell from a star.”
From everywhere in the greenery and behind the small houses, small people no taller than about three feet high began to come into the light of the circle. Their clothing was just as bright as the flowers. The men wore colors of blues, greens, and reds, while the woman wore lighter shades of greens and blues with purples and pinks. Most of them wore hats, their curls sticking out from underneath, and a few of the women’s’ bonnets were decorated with various kinds of flowers such as roses, marigolds, and daisies.
“She fell from the from the sky,” Chungha sang, “she fell very far, and Kansas she says is the name of the star.”
“Kansas she says is the name of the star,” the munchkins repeated as more of them began to appear and surround the new faces in town.
“She brings you good news, or haven’t you heard? When she fell out of Kansas a miracle occurred.”
Y/N was lead to the center of the town, and she began her story. “It really was no miracle. What happened was just this: this wind began to switch, the house to pitch, and suddenly the hinges started to unhitch. Just then the witch, to satisfy and itch, went flying on her broomstick, thumbing for a hitch.”
“And oh, what happened then was rich,” a man in a tall gray hat hopped out.
A few of the woman munchkins joined in on finishing the story. “The house began to pitch, the kitchen took a slitch. It landed on the Wicked Witch in the middle of a ditch, which was not a healthy situation for the Wicked Witch, who began to twitch and was reduced to just a stitch of what was once the Wicked Witch.”
The citizens of Munchkinland performed a small celebratory dance in their freedom from the witch’s clutches, and a horse drawn carriage pulled up. Y/N was guided into it before two citizens approached her with some candy a bouquet of yellow and blue roses.
“We thank you very sweetly,” the first one said with a smile, “for doing it so neatly.”
“You’ve killed her so completely,” the second one said, “thank we thank you very sweetly.”
“Let the joyous news be spread,” Chungha declared, “the Wicked old Witch at last is dead!”
As the carriage began to move, the munchkins cheered wildly and chanted their victory:
“Ding dong, the Witch is dead
Which old Witch? The Wicked Witch!
Ding dong, the Wicked Witch is dead
Wake up, you sleepyhead
Rub your eyes, get out of bed
Wake up, the Wicked Witch is dead
She’s gone where the goblins go
Below, below, below
Yo ho! Let’s open up and sing
And ring the bells out
Ding dong, the merry-o
Sing it high
Sing it low
Let them know the Wicked Witch is dead.”
The carriage stopped in front of a larger homestead, where three trumpeters came out and blew a fanfare as a large-bellied munchkin in a bright blue suit approached Y/N with seven council like people followed behind him.
“As mayor of the munchkin city,” he announced, “in the county of the land of Oz, I welcome you most regally.”
“But we’ve got to verify it regally,” and officially stepped in. “To see…”
“To see.”
“If she…”
“If she…”
“Is morally, ethically, spiritually, physically, positively, absolutely, undeniably and reliably dead.”
Y/N wasn’t sure what was happening at first, but she realized that the council wanted proof that the witch was, in fact, dead. She hadn’t heard anyone scream in fear or seen a dead corpse try to squeeze itself out from under her house, so they must be in the clear.
A munchkin in dark purple robes and holding a scroll approached the council and gave his two cents. “As coroner, I must aver, I thoroughly examined her, and she’s not only merely dead, she’s really most sincerely dead.” He then unraveled the scroll, revealing a certificate of death.
“Then this is a day of independence,” the mayor stated happily, “for all the munchkins and their decendents. Let the joyous news be spread, the Wicked old Witch at last is dead!”
With another wild cheer, the citizens sang their chant in celebration. Y/N was then given thanks from three girls in pink tutus and three boys in colorful suits, both presenting her with candy and a song. Chungha then guided Y/N back to the square where the rest of the people continued their welcome.
Everything then came to halt, when a cloud of bright red smoke exploded from out of nowhere. Munchkins screamed in fright and began to either hide or drop down in fear, and Toto began to bark at who or whatever was unwelcome. Y/N was quick to pick up her dog, but he still growled in protecting her. As the smoke dissolved, the witch Y/N had seen earlier was revealed to be the uninvited guest to the party. Upon seeing her in person, she was more horrid in face as she wore all black clothing and held a broomstick.
“I-I thought you said s-she was dead,” Y/N whispered to Chungha, confused.
“That was her sister, the Wicked Witch of the East,” the Good Witch explained. “This is the Wicked Witch of the West, and she’s worse than the other one was.”
The ugly hag examined the two legs sticking out from underneath the house, and a look of pure wrath shadowed her green face.
“Who killed my sister?” she growled, her voice an unsatisfying pitch. “Who killed the Witch of the East? Was it you?”
“No,” Y/N answered immediately as the witch approached her. “No, I didn’t mean to kill anyone. I promise it was an accident.”
“Well, my little pretty, I can cause accidents, too!”
“Aren’t you forgetting the Opal Slippers?” Chungha asked, unfazed by the witch’s anger.
“The slippers. Yes!” An unsettling smile had appeared on her face as she began to go back to her dead sister’s feet. However, the shoes in question disappeared, and the legs and feet curled up and snaked underneath the house.
“They’re gone!” the witch cried before returning the pair. “The Opal Slippers. What have you done with them? Give them back to me or I’ll-“
“It’s too late,” Chunga stopped her. “There they are, and there they’ll stay.”
Y/N looked down to where the Good Witch was pointing to and realized the slippers were now on her feet, matching beautifully with her pink socks. When did they slip onto her feet? Not that she was complaining about having beautiful shoes on her feet instead of the plain red converse she wore, but the slippers didn’t belong to her.
“Give me back my slippers,” the Wicked Witch demanded. “I’m the only one that knows how to use them. They’re no use to you. Give them back to me. Give them back!”
“Keep a hold of them,” Chungha whispered to Y/N. “Their magic must be very powerful, or she wouldn’t want them so badly.”
“You stay out of this, Chungha, or I’ll break you, as well!”
Chungha just laughed and told her, “Rubbish! You have no power here. Be gone, before somebody drops a house on you, too.”
The witch glanced up at the sky before announcing her departure. “Very well. I’ll bide my time.” Her attention went back to Y/N. “And as for you, young lady, it’s true, I can’t attend to you here and now as I’d like, but just stay out of my way. I’ll get you, my pretty, and you’re little dog, too!” With a cackle, she dashed into the square and disappeared in a thunderous cloud of red smoke followed by a small explosion of fire.
“It’s all right,” Chungha reassured the munchkins. “She’s gone.”
“What just happened?” Y/N asked.
“I’m afraid you’ve made rather a bad enemy of the Wicked Witch of the West. The sooner you get out of Oz altogether, the safer you’ll sleep, my dear.”
“I’d give anything to get out of Oz,” Y/N sighed. “But which way is Kansas? I can’t go the way I came.”
As beautiful as the land was, Y/N just wanted to be back home with her family and friends and bring Toto back with her. She didn’t know if her Aunt was still alive, or even if everyone else was looking for her. It didn’t help that a wicked witch had basically threatened her life over a pair of magical shoes.
“No, that’s true,” Chungha agreed. “The only person who might know would be the great and wonderful Wizard of OZ himself.”
The munchkins immediately bowed at the mention of the man’s name.
“The Wizard of Oz? Is he good, or is he wicked?”
“Very good, but very mysterious. He lives in the Sapphire City, and that’s a long journey from here. Did you bring your broomstick with you?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Then, you’ll have to walk, I’m afraid.”
Thanks, Captain Obvious, Y/N thought.
“The munchkins will see you safely to the border of Munchkinland,” Chungha reassured her. “And remember, never let those slippers off your feet for a moment, or you will be at the mercy of the Wicked Witch of the West.”
“But how do I start for the Sapphire City?” Y/N asked.
“It’s always best to start at the beginning, and all you do is follow the yellow brick road.”
-
Tagging: @barsformars @barnesbabee @daybreakx @juyeonzz @cosmixity @philosopher-of-fandoms
#kwritersworldnet#kpopuniversenet#tbznetwork#deobiwritersnet#kconnect#kdiner#kpopficsnetwork#kdiarynet#starryktown#the boyz#tbz#tbz jacob#tbz kevin#tbz eric#tbz sangyeon#bae joonyoung#moon hyungseo#sohn youngjae#lee sangyeon#chungha#kim chungha#fluff#angst#wizard of oz
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