#narrow gauge pls tell help | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

calypsocolada · 26 days

Text

how the jjk boys react to sharing a bed with you... ft. gojo, geto, nanami, yuji, & choso

authors note: pls enjoy this while I work on yet another denji fic ;)

cw: slightly suggestive

wc: 4k

“You gotta be actually kidding me,” You grumbled, dragging your bags into you and Gojo’s shared room. Sure enough there was a single damn bed smack in the middle of the room. You looked for a couch but there was just a small chair in the corner and a desk with a tv a top it. Gojo slid around you and you didn’t have to look at him to know he had a shit eating grin on his lips.

“Wow… very nice, very spacious.” Gojo beamed as he plopped his bags on the chair next to the bed. You were still standing halfway in the door, contemplating a quick escape when he turned to you and pouted. “It won’t kill you to share a bed with me.”

“It might.” You grumbled but walked inside, pushing the door shut behind you. You dropped your bags on the floor and sat at the foot of the bed. You and Gojo never got along… well you expressly made efforts not to get along with him because he annoyed you to no end. You actually weren’t sure how Gojo felt about you, you tried not to think about it. You were partnered with him on this mission for the exact purpose to 'build a bond'. It was stupid. You didn’t need a bond with Gojo to fight well with him. And Gojo didn’t need your help in a fight so this whole thing was pointless.

“You’re quiet.”

“And that surprises you?” You ask sardonically. Gojo slightly raises his eyebrows in a sort of 'touché' manner.

“If it bothers you so much I can sleep on the floor.” He says and you laugh. Yeah, you’d make the strongest sorcerer in history sleep on the floor. You rolled your eyes.

“I’m not immature like you, I can share.”

“Says the person who was huffing and puffing the entire way up here.”

“It’s laughable! This is shit teenage girls read about in fan fics.” You throw your arms up, exasperated.

“I don’t know what that is.” Gojo says and you sigh.

“Yeah, sure you don’t.” You grab your bag. “I’m gonna change.” You walk into the bathroom, slipping into a tank top and sweatpants, washing your face off. You walk back out just as Gojo’s pulling sweatpants over his boxers, his back riddled with scars. You pause where you stand. You had eyes, you knew Gojo was attractive. But you were sure he wasn’t your type, but that didn’t take away from the fact that he was built. The muscles on his back, his slim build. You felt a heat rush to your face when he turned slightly.

“Like what you see?”

“Don’t be an idiot.” You groaned, gaining back a little bit of sense. To your relief he pulled on a shirt over his head as you both slipped into the bed. You clicked on the tv as he clicked off the light.

“You’re gonna sleep with that on?” He asks as you nod your head.

“I can’t sleep in deathly silence.” You say and he rolls over to face you as you watch whatever was on.

“Can I ask you something?” He mumbles beside you.

“What?”

“Why do you hate me?” You look away from the tv for a moment, then to his eyes.

“I don’t hate you.”

“But you don’t like me.”

“Hate and dislike are very different.” You say as he sits up slightly.

“So you dislike me.” He says. You shrug.

“Why do you care what I think?”

“Why wouldn’t I? We’re partners now, right?” He asks innocently. You watch him for a moment, gauge his intent with this little questionnaire.

“The great Satoru Gojo shouldn’t care what a little nobody sorcerer like me thinks.” You say it partly as a joke but you can tell Gojo didn’t see it that way. He sniffed out your true intent.

“So that’s it? You’re jealous.” He points out and you narrow your eyes.

“I was joking.”

“It was a joke. It's a gross understatement of your abilities.” He says and you turn your attention back to the tv. “I can’t ever get a read on you. Or make you laugh or even so much as smile. You hang out with Nanami too much.” Gojo pouts, falling back on the pillows. He was right… you did hang out with Nanami quite a bit, maybe you did adopt some small parts of the serious man. A few quiet moments pass.

“I don’t dislike you.” You start and feel the bed shift slightly, he’s looking at you again, you're not sure why there’s heat in that look. “But that doesn’t mean I like you either.” You say as Gojo erupts into laughter.

“Haha… is that so? So I annoy you, that’s all?”

“Yes. You’re loud and nosey and,” you tug the covers closer to your body. “Apparently not good with sharing.” Gojo laughs a bit and you feel him scoot closer to you. The warmth radiating off of him in waves. Your heart springs to your throat and you’d be surprised if the nerves don't show on your face.

“Maybe I don’t like to share.” Gojo says beside you, and you dare look his way. He’s smirking at you, the tv illuminating his soft features.

“Sharing is caring.” You toss back and watch as that smirk turns soft. It makes your stomach flip. You decide you don’t like the way you’re feeling and roll over away from him and those damn eyes.

“Tired?” Gojo asks behind you.

“Very.” You answer shortly. You feel the bed shake softly with his laughter and you ignore it. Forcing your eyes closed.

“Goodnight then, grumpy.”

“I told you not to call me that.” You snap in a whisper.

“But it fits you so well.” He croons.

You were wondering before how you could slow your racing heart enough to sleep but the moment things got quiet you were out cold. When you woke up the next morning you felt a weight against your back, warmth radiating from behind. Sure enough Gojo was cuddled up behind you, his arm and leg both thrown over your body. If anyone asked, this did not happen. You also surely didn’t feel an overwhelming sense of comfort and definitely weren’t lulled back to sleep in seconds, moving closer to him and his body warmth.

You heard a knock at your door, your eyes drifted to the clock beside your bed.

3:15 a.m.

You placed your book on the side table and pushed out of bed. Gently opening the door, you gasped slightly. Geto stood, completely drenched from the rain at your doorstep. You opened your door all the way and reached to pull him inside.

“Suguru…” you admonished. “You’re drenched.”

“Uh huh.” Geto answered you, sort of noncommittally.

“Is everything okay?” You asked, there were dark, dark circles under his eyes, his face pale of that happiness he usually wore.

“I’m fine.” He shrugged as you furrowed your brows. He was acting strange and distant, you almost didn’t recognize him. You turned, grabbing a towel to wrap around him but he caught your wrist between his freezing fingers. You paused, looking back at him. That’s when you saw it, written all over his face. The darkness, the loneliness.

You’d been gone for about three weeks prior. In that time something horrible had transpired. Someone under Geto and Gojo’s care was murdered, you heard it happened right in front of Geto. Before Geto would often stop by your dorm to hang out, you two worked on coursework together, he liked how quiet and comfortable you made him feel.

This was the first night you’d been back. You tried talking to him earlier in the day but it was in one ear and out the other. You assumed he just didn’t want to talk. But his fingers flexed against your wrist now, gently pulling you to him by your arm as he crumbled against you. His head resting in the crook of your neck, rain dripping from his hair down your shoulder and back. His hands slid to your lower back, pulling you flush against him in a needy sort of desperate hug. You froze momentarily, you wouldn’t consider yourself the most comforting person but right now you knew you needed to be. You stood strong, holding up his weight as you wrapped your arms gently around him, damning the rain that kept him cold. He didn’t cry, just kept that tight hold on you until suddenly he pulled back.

“Fuck, I’m getting you all wet.” He says, hands coming up to wipe the transferred rain from your cheek. You blushed at the touch and shook your head.

“I don’t care about that.” You said, eyes devouring his features, you tried so hard to read him but you just didn’t know him well enough.

“Sorry… I— I didn’t think you’d be awake.”

“I’m glad I was.” You say and watch Geto’s eyes snake down to yours. You wanted to ask what was ailing him, how you could fix it but you didn’t want to scare him off… didn’t want him to feel like he had to talk about it.

“Can I stay with you? I can sleep on the floor.” Geto asked, your brows raised. You only had the one bed and there was no way you’d make this man sleep on the floor. You shook your head.

“You can sleep in the bed with me.” You said and turned to grab some stuff from your drawer, something he could change into out of those wet clothes. You found an old pair of your dad’s pj’s you’d brought along as well as a shirt you had stolen from Gojo. “Here, you can wear these.” You say, handing it over to him. He takes them graciously and you turn to give him privacy while you pull the covers back. When he walks around the other side of the bed your eyes drift up. He didn’t wear a shirt, just pants. You blushed as his eyes met yours. He gave you a soft smile and you two slid into the bed together. You reached over and flicked off the lights. After a quiet moment of not being able to get your heart to calm down, Geto's warm hands reached over and pulled you into him by your hips.

“I just wanna be closer.” Was all he said as your body was flush against his, his arms slotted around you. You didn’t think you’d get any sleep the night but as you listened to his breathing even out behind you your eyes slowly began to drift closed.

You’d wake up feeling cold, turns out Geto is an early riser and he was gone before the morning.

You fucked up. You’re going to lose your job for sure. You had pleaded with the hotel staff after arriving early to see one single bed in the room you were supposed to share with your boss Nanami. Your pleads fell on deaf ears. They were completely booked up for the next few days. You sighed, didn’t make a fuss and thanked the worker, it wasn’t their fault it was yours for not paying closer attention. Just as you turned to walk back up to the room the front doors slid open and in walked your boss, snow flakes in his tow colored hair. His eyes met yours and he waved. You smiled nervously and walked over to him to help him with his bags.

“I’ve got it, dear.” He says softly, reaching up to shake the snow from his hair. You nodded your head and led him to the elevator.

“How was your flight?” You asked, pressing the button as the elevator slid open.

“Bumpy,” He said. “And yours?”

“I slept the entire time.”

“Ah, that’s right… you don’t do well on flights.” He said as you two walked into the shaft and you pressed the button to your floor. “Next time I’ll schedule ours together so you don’t fly alone.”

“Oh… you don’t have to do that.” You say as the doors slide close and the elevator pulls up with a soft jolt.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” He says, glancing at his clock. He had a meeting early so he’d probably shower and go to bed as soon as you two got to the room. You swallowed as the doors slid back open and you led the way to the room.

“There was a… slight mix up on my part with the room.” You say as you slide the keycard into the door and it pings to let you know it’s unlocked.

“Hmm?” Nanami hums as you push the door open.

“I accidentally booked a one bed suite and they’re completely booked up for the weekend so I’m gonna call around and get myself a room.” You explain as Nanami sets his things down.

“Another room?” He echoes as you nod your head.

“There’s a hotel about a mile and a half away was gonna call and-“

“That bed’s rather large, Y/n.” Nanami said nonchalantly.

“Hmm?” You hummed as Nanami pointed to the bed.

“It’s cold and snowy out, if it makes you uncomfortable to share then I will be the one to get another room.”

“What? N-no, sir. You’re the one with a 6 a.m. meeting.” You say, then clear your throat. “I d-don’t mind sharing.”

“Then it’s settled.” He says, ruffling your hair as he walks by to shower and change. When he closes the door behind himself you're able to breathe. You quickly change yourself into something comfortable and pull the covers back, sliding into the cold sheets. You pick a show to have quietly playing as Nanami emerges from the shower, steam drifting from the open door. Your heart raced, you’d never seen him without his hair styled but now it just sort of fell around his forehead. You swallowed and forced your attention back to the tv. Nanami sat in the bed next to you, switching off the light. You reached for the remote to turn off the tv. “You can keep watching.” Nanami said, his voice deep and tired. You gave him a polite smile but turned the sound down just a bit as he settled back in the bed. You thought you would feel more nervous next to you but the warmth radiating off of him in waves was comforting. He placed his arm behind his head and watched what was on the screen, his other hand barely brushing you. You pulled the covers up, shivering slightly, gaining Nanami’s attention. “Cold?” He rasps, looking down at you. You blush… it wasn’t the cold.

“A bit.” You force out, sliding deeper into the covers.

“It is quite chilly in here,” He moves and grabs a sweatshirt from his luggage, holding it out for you. You smile thankfully and sit up to pull it over your head. It was warm and smelled just like him. You swallowed and thanked him softly as he settled back beside you. After a few moments you felt your eyelids getting heavier, in your sleepy state you move closer to Nanami’s warmth and are surprised when he gently places an arm around you instead of pushing you away. Your face slots perfectly on his shoulder and when you wake up several hours later Nanami’s head is resting on the top of yours.

Yuji’s face was bright red. His eyes are as wide as an owls. You looked at him with your head slightly cocked.

“What?”

“Y-you said we’d be sharing a bed?” He asked. You looked at him for another long moment, probably agonizingly long to him.

“Yes.” You answered simply as Yuji swallowed nervously and visibly. “What’s wrong, Yuji?”

“We-- we can’t share a bed, Y/n.”

“Why not?”

“I-- I wouldn’t be able--” He cuts himself off as he speaks, his cheeks slowly turning rosy red.

“You wouldn’t be able to do what?” You ask, brows furrowed as the moment slowly becomes sort of comical to you.

“Babe… your parents would be two doors down… I-- I want them to know I’m a gentleman.” Yuji says as you bite your lip to keep from laughing aloud.

“Yuji… We’ve been dating for months, you’ve already met my parents twice, they know you’re a good boy.” You say, reaching over and running your fingers through his hair. He instinctively moves his head closer to your hand and pouts.

“What if they’re doing this to see if I’ll sleep on the floor or in the bed? Seeing if I can behave myself.” Yuji prattles as you finally crack a soft smile, tilting your head as your hand trails from his hair to his chin, tilting his eyes up so he’s looking at you.

“Babe, you are severely overthinking this.” You say and lean in to press a quick kiss to his lips. Yuji calms at that and when you try to pull back he catches your face gently in his hands and pulls your lips back to his.

Yuji didn’t fully calm it seemed because the moment you and your parents parted after dinner and you pulled him off towards your room your hand slid into his. His palms were sweaty so you pulled his hand up and kissed his knuckles, eyes drifting to his face. He was blushing like crazy, glancing back in the way your parents had walked.

“Not this again.” You whisper as you pull him into your room and close the door behind him.

“I should sleep on the floor.” He says as you roll your head back.

“Yuji… you’re not sleeping on the floor.”

“I want them to like me.”

“They do like you, baby, they like you a lot. Otherwise they would’ve said something to me already.” You say, letting go of his hand to get changed. You pull your shirt off and hear Yuji gasp behind you. You turn and watch him turn away. You laugh at that, you couldn’t help it.

“This is not funny!” You hear him pout. You pull on one of his old shirts and a pair of shorts. You walk over and slide your hands around his waist from behind, kissing his shoulder. You feel him shiver at the contact. “Stop that.” He whispers as you smile.

“Turn around.” You direct. He does as told, blowing out a breath when he sees you dressed but then blushes when he recognizes his old shirt.

“You’re killing me, they’re gonna see this.” He gently tugs on the hem of the shirt.

“Take it off then.” You say and watch the red spread from his cheeks to his ears.

“Shh.” He sibilates, gaining another soft laugh from you.

“You’re really cute… I don’t think I can behave if you're gonna act like this.” You tease, moving closer to him. His face goes five different shades of cherry red and for a moment his body moves closer before he can think better of it.

“Please,” he lets out a rush of air. “I’m holding on by a thread.” You smirk at that but ultimately give up. You loved him enough to know you’d only make him more nervous so you gently grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the bed.

“I’ll be good but you have to sleep in the bed with me.” You say. Yuji nods finally as you flick off the lights and pull him into the covers. He settles beside you.

“Have you… brought a lot of guys home?” Yuji asks in the dark. “Sorry… that sounded…”

“You’re the first.” You say. You feel Yuji inches closer to you as you turn to face him. “My parents always joked that if I finally brought someone home that it’d be the one I marry.” You say and you hear Yuji suck in a soft breath.

“Marry?” Yuji echoes.

“Not anytime soon.” You laugh. “We’re barely old enough for that.”

“I wanna marry you.” Yuji says, his hands finding your hips in the dark as he pulls you close.

“Oh?” You smirk in the dark. “You want to marry me?”

“Yes.” He says confidently. “Whenever you’re ready I’m ready.” You slide your hands up to cradle his face as you press a soft kiss to his lips.

“We’ll give it some time.” You whisper as Yuji nods his head, you feel him smile against your lips as you exchange kisses in the dark until sleep takes you both.

You had never seen anyone blush more than Choso when you suggested sharing a bed. You’d been on the run with the two brothers after Shibuya, dodging jujutsu sorcerers that were hired to kill you. You three had grown quite close during the few months. You protected Yuji like a younger brother but... you didn't feel that same familial protectiveness with Choso... It was something far different. Something that had you looking for him in every fight. Wanting to be as close to him as possible.

Yuji was fast asleep on the couch and you didn’t mind sharing but Choso… he was red, his eyes wide.

“Is something wrong?” You asked, slightly concerned at his reaction. For a moment he stared, his lips parting for a moment before he swallowed dryly and shook his head.

“N-no… nothings wrong.” He said unconvincingly. You slowly nodded your head, trying to understand his reaction. Maybe he wanted the bed to himself?

“Well… I don’t mind sleeping on the floor if you want the bed to your-”

“Absolutely not.” He interrupted, then looked apologetic. “S-sorry… no… I don’t mind sharing.”

“You sure?” You ask as Choso nods his head. “Okay.” You say softly, as you slide into it. Choso pulls off his shirt and changes quickly in the bathroom before laying on top of the covers. You look at him.

“Aren’t you gonna be cold?”

“I-- don’t think… so.” He forced out.

“Choso, is something wrong? Are you feeling okay?” You asked, concerned. You reach across the space between you two and press the back of your hand to his forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“I feel fine!” Choso inhales quickly at your touch. Your hand slides from his forehead to his warm cheeks.

“Are you sure?” You ask, eyes full of concern. Choso’s lips parted but no words came out. You furrowed your brows, if he felt fine then why was he acting so damn strange?

“Uh huh.” He finally affirmed. For a momet you stared at him, your brain working something. You laughed softly, shaking your head. You remembered a conversation you and Yuji had the previous morning. Yuji had claimed that Choso may have had a crush on you… He cited moments during fight where Choso would look for you, would find you and be the first to make sure you were okay. LIttle did Yuji know that you did the same thing. Maybe Choso wasn’t that kind of sick after all…

“Choso?” You asked as he hummed in response. “Do you… have a crush on me?” Choso’s small bit of calm seemingly breaks.

“What! What… n-no!” He looks away from you, hiding his face from your view.

“Oh… Am I wrong?” You ask. He looks at you then, his eyes and face and everything beautifully crafted. It all seemed to dawn on you in the dim light of this cold hotel room.

“Yes… you are.” He whispers intimately. Your breath catches in your throat. You hadn’t even registered that he’d taken his hair down, stands of it touching his shoulders. He was… too good looking for you to pretend you haven't felt something for him. But maybe you and Yuji were wrong... “Do you… have a boyfriend?” You hear Choso ask but your brain didn’t compute it for a moment.

“Hmm? A boyfriend?” You ask as he barely gives you a nod of his head. “Why?” Choso immediately realizes what he said and turns away, embarrassed.

“I… was just wondering that’s all.”

“No… I don’t.” You say, and bite the smile on your lips.

“... So you’re- uh- single right?”

“Yes, Choso.” You say, letting a smile fit to your lips. Choso’s eyes drift from your eyes to your lips and they linger there for a moment.

“Can I kiss y-” You press forward, cutting off his sentence. Pressing your lips against his. Choso’s eyes widen when your lips come in contact with his, he hesitantly returns the kiss, pulling you to him, bringing you both down onto the bed. He pulls the covers over you and him to shield you both if Yuji were to wake.

1K notes · View notes

hangovercurse · 3 years

Text

Live from New York

You’re hosting SNL and get close with one of the cast members

Request: “hi! can you do something about pete where the reader is hosting snl and throughout the week they’re flirting with each other but she’s unsure if they should date and he convinces her? maybe a combo of fluff/angst/smut? it can be whatever :,)”

Pete x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: I told myself I wasn’t going to take that long on this one and then I ended up watching an entire documentary on the making of an SNL episode because I wanted to be as accurate as possible… someone stop me pls

Word Count: 2834

Monday

Despite being a swiftly rising actress, you hated being the enter of attention. You’d always gotten anxious as a kid when a teacher made you stand in front of the class for presentations or during first-day introductions. So being front and center in a room of 30 people who were all there to study and try to impress you was not something you found pleasant.

“Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You spoke timidly to the crowded room, people clapping from their spots on the floor or various couches around the room, “it’s great to be here.”

Lorne cleared his throat, “alright, let’s start with you, Anna.”

You looked around the room as a young woman pitched the first sketch of the night, listening intently to her ideas while trying to match faces with the names Lorne had given you earlier. Then your eyes locked with a pair of deep brown ones, the man wearing a soft smile on his face. He radiated gentle energy despite the tattoos you could see running down his arms.

The pitches continued with an air of lightheartedness and fun. You found nearly everything funny, so you couldn’t even begin to imagine how you were going to cut any of the sketch pitches.

After a lull in ideas, Lorne announced that cast members could now pitch ideas for Weekend Update character appearances. The man you’d taken an interest in earlier, who you’d since learned was named Pete Davidson, pitched a new set of characters for you and him.

“You know those weird stoner kids in high school who were always hanging out in the parking lot and acted really weird and mysterious? Those characters who just give really vague answers to anything you ask and act like they’ve seen some shit when they have the most normal home lives.”

You giggled, knowing the exact kinds of kids he was talking about. Colin and Michael also chuckled, writing the idea down with some notes of their own. Soon after that, everyone went back to pitching regular sketches, Jost and Che pitching an unusual number of sketches featuring you and Pete.

After a few long hours, the session wrapped; everyone leaving the office space except for you and Lorne, “so, what did you think?”

You chuckled lightly, “you have some seriously talented people on this show, Mr. Michaels. I don’t understand how you guys write an entire show every week.”

“We all work very hard; I’ll tell you that. Now, talk to me. Anything you really liked or really hated?”

You shrugged, “you’re the comedy mastermind, I know nothing. But I thought that weird kids from high school bit was pretty funny.”

Lorne nodded, “So did Jost and Che it seems. Sometimes the kid has a good idea.” You giggled at his reference to Pete as “the kid.” He sighed, “anything else? I noticed you liked that proposal sketch.”

“Yeah, that one was super funny. I will say, I wasn’t too in love with the dad-teacher one, but I would have no problem with it being done with someone else as the daughter.”

Lorne and you spent the rest of the workday discussing the different sketch ideas that came up and gauging what type of comedy suited you best. Before you left, he introduced you to Donna, your dresser who would be helping you out throughout the week.

Tuesday

After a quick tour of the studio by Donna, you were given a list of cast members and writers who wanted to meet with you to get ideas about sketches. You first stepped into a small room with a desk and futon, Donna introducing you to Chloe Fineman and Celeste Yim.

Chloe smiled brightly at you, “okay, so we were thinking that we could do something where I bring you to a sleepover with some friends that you don’t know. But at some point, you try to go to sleep because you have a soccer tournament in the morning but everyone else is being loud and it turns into this big overdramatic argument.”

You giggled softly, “I love that!”

After writing with them for a while, you were whisked away to room after room, finally landing in Colin Jost and Michael Che’s office, where they were hunched over a computer with Pete.

Colin smiled at you, “hey Y/N, how’s your day been?”

“Busy, how are you guys?”

The men responded with variations of “good,” before Michael spoke, “I know it’s late, so don’t feel obligated to stay longer than you’re comfortable with.”

You shrugged, “what time is it? It doesn’t feel that late.”

Pete laughed, teasing Colin and Michael, “c’mon guys, don’t you know that the young people of New York don’t sleep?”

You giggled in agreement as Colin frowned, “I’m only 38, that’s not that old.”

“I’m only 26, Colin,” you said, laughing at the men.

Michael patted Colin on the shoulder, “Jost, we’re getting old.”

Colin frowned before clearing his throat, “anyways, we had a couple ideas for some sketches with you and Pete, if you’re up for it, and we wanted to hash out your weekend update appearance.”

You smiled and nodded, “yeah, that sounds great.”

The rest of the night (and into the early morning) was spent with the three men, eventually joined by Heidi Gardner and Kyle Mooney to work them into the scripts. A majority of the writing process was simply messing around with various sketch situations until someone found a joke that worked best.

Pete watched you carefully the entire night, doing everything in his power to make you laugh. You had no complaints, doing your best to not openly flirt with him in front of the rest of the cast (and failing quite miserably).

Wednesday

Wednesday was the designated day for the roundtable readthrough. You took a place between Pete and Lorne, who began the reading, “we’ve got 41 sketches so let’s get started.”

The table read was just like any other you’d been through; Lorne wasting no time between sketches to discuss or joke. You struggled with containing your laughter throughout the reading, trying to act professionally. It didn’t help that Pete was making jokes any chance he got, eliciting even more giggles from you.

The three hours seemed to take no time at all as sketch after sketch was read out loud. Every so often you would catch Lorne looking at you with an eyebrow raised, usually after you read one of the sketches with Pete.

After everyone was dismissed, you were led to Lorne’s office with the head writers and producers. There was a large wall covered in sticky notes with each sketch’s name written on one. Lorne turned to you, “what do you think?”

You scanned the wall, listing off some of the sketches that you really liked, though most of them were great, so you had trouble narrowing them down.

Lorne let out a small laugh, “you guys noticed how she picked out the sketches with Pete in them, too, right?”

Your face went hot, immediately turning to face the ground. Colin and Michael chuckled, “we noticed,” the latter commented.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, Y/N, just wanted to point it out to you.” Lorne teased before turning back to the wall and thinking.

You giggled, “you guys suck.”

As embarrassed as you were, your anxiety was surprisingly low. You had been worried about hosting since you got the invite, but the cast and crew had been nothing but kind to you. Even just being able to make jokes like this with the writers made you feel oddly comforted.

You worked on narrowing down which sketches to keep for rehearsals and which ones were going to get cut immediately, a job that was very easy for Lorne but very difficult for you.

Eventually you got it down to enough sketches that Lorne was satisfied and he sent out the list to the cast. He led you out of his office, “you know, you have a real affinity for comedy,” he told you. “I don’t know if you’ve ever thought about sketch comedy, but from that read through you seem to know what you’re doing.”

You blushed slightly, thanking him, “we’ll see if you’re still saying that on Saturday.”

He chuckled, “have a good night.” You waved at him as you walked towards the exit, running into none other than Pete Davidson.

“Hey, you headed out?”

You smiled, “yeah, just got out of my meeting with Lorne. Did you get a chance to look at the revised sketch schedule?”

Pete nodded, walking with you to the door of the theater, “yeah, I noticed you kept a lot of our sketches in there,” he bumped your shoulder, a playful smirk on his face.

A giggle rolled from your lips, “what can I say? We’re funny together.”

He raised an eyebrow, watching as you flagged down your taxi, “whatever you say.”

“Are you complaining about having to work with me?” You asked, opening the door.

He chuckled, “oh yeah. I am just dreading tomorrow.” Sarcasm laced his words, making you laugh.

“Goodnight, Pete.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Thursday

Donna ushered you around all day, making sure you were in the rehearsal space when you needed to be and supporting you from the side. This part of the process came naturally to you, as it was the most similar to rehearsing and filming on movie sets.

When you weren’t rehearsing a scene, you were hanging out with Pete. It was strange how easily you got along, your humors aligning almost perfectly. Not to mention he was a huge flirt and was making it more and more obvious with you. You flirted right back, earning looks of amusement from Lorne throughout the day.

The day was a whirlwind, and by the time you were able to go home, you were exhausted. Pete walked you out to the street again, talking about one of the sketches that went wrong earlier until your taxi pulled up. This time he opened the door for you and helped you inside, “see you tomorrow.”

You smiled up at him, “bright and early.”

Friday

After hours of rehearsing, you plopped onto the couch in Pete’s dressing room, where you had found yourself a home over the past few days, “I don’t know how you guys do this every week. I’ve been here for four days and I’m exhausted.”

Pete chuckled, “to be fair, you’re the host. The key is to try and only get one sketch into the show so that you don’t have to do anything during the week.”

You laughed, letting a comfortable silence fall over you. Pete studied you, taking in your tired appearance, “you’re doing great though, being a host. I’ve seen some people come in and try to take control of everything and then no one has fun. You’re really good at just letting the comedy speak for itself. Not many people do that.”

Shrugging, you responded, “I mean, I’m not a comedian, I’m just an actor. You guys come up with everything. I don’t know enough to try and control things around here, I just do what I can to make your visions come to life. I figured that’s what a host should do.”

Pete nodded, “yeah, but again, a lot of people want their SNL episode to look a certain way. You don’t seem to care.”

“I just want to have fun, honestly.”

He smirked, “are you?”

You looked up to him with a smile on your face, “definitely.”

Suddenly the speaker in the room rang out, “Y/N and Pete to main stage 1.”

Groaning, you lifted yourself from the couch, Pete watching you with amusement, “c’mon Ms. Host, we’ve got a show to rehearse.”

Saturday

The day was hectic; filled with rehearsal after rehearsal. Lorne and Donna made sure that you were comfortable all day, but you could feel the stress radiating from every inch of the studio.

Stronger than that, though, was the sense of excitement buzzing around everyone. You were fit into more costumes than you could count, all leading up to the final dress rehearsal of the night in front of the live studio audience.

Dress ran smoothly, but you could see Lorne cutting lines from sketches from stage out of the corner of your eye. Luckily, Pete distracted you from all the anxious energy. “I know Lorne looks like a psychopath, but that’s just what he does. Everything’s fine, don’t stress about it,” he said over dinner.

You chuckled, “thanks. I feel so out of my league this week.”

“I told you, you’re great. Everyone here loves you. I heard Lorne talking about wanting you back as soon as possible.”

Rolling your eyes, you responded, “yeah right, I’m never gonna do anything big enough to get me on this show again.”

Pete laughed, “you could always make guest appearances with me on the Weekend Update.”

“You aren’t sick of me already?” you joked.

After dinner you were paraded around by Donna, who got you into your style for opening monologue. She smiled at you through your dressing room mirror, “how are you feeling?”

You gave her a nervous smile, “terrified, but ready.”

The lady chuckled, “you’ll do great. I’ll be right offstage if you need anything.”

“Thank you, for everything this week.”

She squeezed your shoulders, “don’t mention it, though if you really want to thank me, go ask that Davidson boy out on a date.”

Your eyes went wide, “Donna!”

A chuckle rang out through the room, “what? I say it for your own good.”

She led you through a maze of hallways and tunnels until you were in place to walk onstage, the speaker announcing your name to the audience followed by cheers.

Exactly 90 minutes later you were gathered with the cast on stage, “thank you to Fletcher, Lorne Michaels, this amazing cast and crew, and thank you all for watching. Goodnight everybody!”

You turned to Pete, who was standing beside you and let him pull you in for a hug, “you did it!” he cheered.

You passed around the cast, giving hugs to as many people as you can before Lorne announced, “that’s a wrap on Y/N Y/L/N and Fletcher!”

Everyone cheered, clapping for you and your musical guest before heading to their dressing rooms to change into their night clothes. You went back to your own dressing room, taking a moment to bask in the feeling of accomplishment.

A knock on your door pulled you out of your haze, “come in!”

Pete entered the room, a wide smile on his face, “congrats!” You let him pull you in for another hug, “so I know that there’s supposed to be this big party after the show, but I was wondering if you’d let me take you to dinner instead?”

Your breath got caught in your throat, those words being the last thing you expected to hear from him. Of course, you wanted to say yes because you did, truthfully, really like him. But part of you was hesitant.

You’d dated your fair share of celebrities, and things always ended very publicly and typically poorly. On top of that, you couldn’t help but feel that this might be happening a bit too quick. You started to doubt that he would still have feelings for you in a week since he wouldn’t be around you nearly all the time.

And then there was the issue of your insane work schedules. Having just lived through his, you weren’t sure if you would be able to keep a relationship like that.

“Pete, I think you’re amazing and I really like you, I just-“

Pete nodded his head, cutting you off, “I know we only met like a couple of das ago, but people go on dates with literal strangers all the time.”

You sighed, “it’s not that, Pete, it’s just that…” you paused, searching for words, “things like this tend to be very public with me, and I really don’t want to have a relationship where there’s all this pressure by the media to be perfect.”

He shrugged, “I get that, but it’s just dinner. And we can go somewhere quiet and private, no one has to know. And if things go further then we’ll just keep it on the down low until you’re ready. Trust me, I know what a public relationship is like, I’m not a huge fan either.”

“Yeah, but what about your work schedule. I mean, I’ve only lived in your world for six days and I want to sleep for a month. How do you even hold a relationship on this schedule?”

Pete moved closer to you, fingers grazing your arm, “we can make it work. I promise. Just give me one date, and if it’s not the best first date of your life, you have no further obligations to me.”

You giggled lightly, leaning into his touch, “I’m only saying yes because you’re kinda cute.”

He smiled down at you, eyes twinkling, I’ll take it.”

#pete davidson #pete davidson imagine #pete davidson x reader #pete davidson fluff #snl

372 notes · View notes

angxlyxn · 4 years

Text

understand - levi x f. reader

summary: After finding that you disobeyed his rules, Levi realizes that he might have to help you understand a bit more of who actually has control.

warnings: light smut, yandere themes, PHYSICAL ABUSE, violence, dubcon, obsessive behavior, abusive language/swearing, some ooc content

word count: ~4k

You hurriedly walked through the musty hallway, heavy boots clinking against the stony floors of the base. You continued rushing to your room, head whipping furiously from side to side as you tried to gauge your surroundings. You knew he was coming for you- in fact, you could feel him. You could feel his burning determination from a few rooms away, not to mention the pure fury he must be feeling for you. You were no stranger to Levi’s punishments, and you certainly were not looking forward to the inevitable discipline that awaited you today. Discipline. The term was really laughable at this point, as it seemed that his perception of the very concept was skewed, to say the least. You hastily tightened the leather straps on your legs, readjusting your jacket as you skidded through the dimly lit corridors. You heard a few calls echoing through the hallways, and you could faintly make out your name amongst the string of words that the person was saying. You panicked as you realized who was yelling out, using every inch of strength left in your body as you broke into a full sprint. However, you soon realized that this was a mistake, as your heavy footfalls had just revealed your location to the very man you were trying to evade.

“L/n, get the FUCK back here!” He was getting closer. You willed your already sore body to move faster, your legs aching with every step that you took.

‘Just.. a bit...further....the dorms are up ahead, just keep running, just a bi-‘ Your thoughts came to an abrupt halt as you felt a large force slamming into your back, sending you tumbling to the cold floors of the corridor. Your chin hit the stones with a great force, causing your entire skull to shake a bit. You felt a drop of blood make its way down your neck, presumably from your chin. Still, despite the sheer futility of the situation, you tried to push yourself up from your sprawled out position of the ground, only to be pushed back down again by a heavy boot slamming down against the back of your rib cage.

“No, Levi, pl-“

“That’s Captain to you L/n,” he said, spitting out your name as though it were a slur of sorts. He kicked you roughly in the side with his steel-toed shoe, urging you to turn over onto your back. You did as he wished, the pain searing through your exhausted body as you did so. You looked up, immediately regretting your decision to do so, as the pure rage hidden behind his usually passive eyes was enough to make you fear for your life. You quickly averted your e/c irises from Levi’s own grey hues, biting your bottom lip out of nervousness.

“Hey!” You heard an aggressive, yet still somehow monotonous shout, as well as the feeling of his foot clamping down on your chest yet again, this time accompanied by a whimper from you as your body convulsed at the amount of force he put into his step. “You look at me when I’m talking to you, do you hear me?” He said, receiving nothing more than a small tremble from you. Visibly dissatisfied with your lack of a response, he pressed down harder on your chest, eliciting yet another whimper from you.

“Y-yes, Captain,” you managed to stutter out, your voice meek and frightened. His eyes narrowed as he removed his foot from your chest.

“Get up,” he said, his tone intense and impatient. You nodded hesitantly, pushing yourself off of the ground, or, at least, attempting to. After a few seconds of trying to force yourself off of the stony tile, you felt a rough hand grasp your hair, pulling you up from the ground. Your steps faltered, only resulting in another sharp tug on your hair from Levi. “Hurry up,” he said under his breath. “Fucking slut.”

He continued like this for a while, tugging you along towards his chambers, much to your terror. You began to struggle against him as he took his keys out from his pocket, slotting the rusted key into his door handle. You mumbled a bit under your breath, but your frantic ramblings fell on deaf ears. Soon enough, his door was opened, and you were unceremoniously thrown inside of his room. You heard your only means of escape slamming behind you, a resounding thud echoing through the young captain’s quarters.

“I gave you one task,” he growled. “One..simple..FUCKING JOB.” You could tell that he was desperately trying not to lose his cool, if only for his own personal satisfaction. From the years of time that you had spent with the man, you had grown accustomed to his odd, sadistic way of drawing things out for way, way longer than they needed to be, well, drawn out for. It was sick.

“I give you one thing to do. I tell you to stay inside. Within the confines of the base. All you had to do was just sit pretty in your room, the room that I so lovingly cleared and made nice for you.” The way he spat out the word “cleared” made you more nervous than you could tell, but you supposed that wasn’t anything to be concerned about right now. After all, when Levi is mad, it's a much larger problem than anything else that you might have an issue with. In times where he was upset, or really at all times, you found it easier to just not question him. He continued to shout at you, his words growing incoherent as you brushed your fingers against your face, digits catching on the crimson liquid that had dribbled down from your nose and onto your chin. As you tried to clear your foggy mind his voice rang back through your head, his tone now hostile, even bordering on animalistic as he yelled down at you. “Little whore, are you deaf? SAY SOMETHING! When I talk to you, you respond, got it?” He said, kicking you in the thigh to punctuate his sentence. You turned around, hesitantly tilting your tear-stained face at the man above you. Gulping down your pride, you decided to tell him what you thought he would like to hear.

“I-I’m sorry, I just wasn’t thinking, and everything just felt like so much, I had to get away, I had to go outside, I-I’m sorry, I couldn’t take it anymor-“

“You couldn’t take it anymore?” Levi mocked, bending down slightly. “You couldn’t fucking take it anymore? Oh L/n, you can take so, so much more than anything I’ve already done to you. You work for me, remember? You belong to me. You will do as I say, and L/n, you know what happens when you disobey me.”

Your eyes widened at his words as you began to back away from him, hands grating against the splintering hardwood beneath you. “No, Levi, please, no no no please I’ll do anything, please,” He just chuckled lightly in response to your pleading, simply grabbing onto your wrist and pulling you up from your spot on the floor. He brought you close to him, so close that your hips were flush against his.

“You need to learn that when I say it’s too much, it’s too much. You don’t have the privilege of deciding things like this. You haven’t earned the right,” he whispered, his hot breath brushing up against your ear.

Suddenly, he gripped onto your shoulders, shoving you onto the cot that sat in the corner of his room. At this, you let out a yelp, barely having enough time to brace your fall before you collapsed down on the rough comforter that was tucked neatly into the corners of the bed. As you did so, you came to a terrifying realization. To anyone else it may have been a source of comfort, but to you, well, to put it simply, you were afraid. Levi was acting....calm. Unsettlingly calm. Well, at least compared to his usual persona when angry. Usually at this point, he would’ve stabbed you at least twice in the leg, and would most likely be screaming bloody murder. That was one thing that was different about Levi whenever he was around you. With others, he often put on a cold front, one that was virtually undisturbed, even when he would see his comrades die right before him, or even during battle, an attitude which you at first considered to be nothing short of appalling. However, nothing could compare to the way he acted when he was alone with you. He was always loose with his emotions around you, never holding back on things such as, well, anger. You supposed keeping your emotions bottled up all the time would take some sort of toll on a person, as you were sure it did on Levi, but his anger was horrendous. It was like he was some sort of sadist.

That’s why it was so strange that his anger was not on full display, at least not yet. Hell, you barely had any bruises yet. Instead of his normal unhinged hostility, he was standing over what appeared to be a desk drawer, clutching a slender object. Perfectly calm, even..docile. Against your better judgement, you spoke up.

“L-Levi, are you not upset wi-th me?” You said, cursing yourself for stuttering.

The man in question chuckled a bit before answering. “Upset? Hardly. Angry, however….” He trailed off as he turned to face you, his features as expressionless as always. Your gaze travelled down from his face, and immediately you wished it hadn’t, for you had noticed the small switchblade that Levi was now brandishing, the hilt of the knife illuminated by the dim lighting that was spread throughout the small room. You began to hastily back up, ruffling the cot’s blankets in the process and eventually colliding with the wall behind you. Levi stalked over to the bed, placing the blade on a bedside table before turning to face you.

“Now, what shall I do with you,” he thought aloud, causing your face to further contort into an expression of fear. “You did try to run away, did you not? There ought to be some...repercussions for your behavior.”

“Run away- I- Captain, I’m not your captive or somethi-”

You were caught off by a foreign sound, one that grated against your ears in a way that was definitely not entirely unintentional. It was laughing. Levi.. was laughing. Bouts of hysterics sprung from his mouth, the sound anything but pleasant. He sounded almost..manic. You had never heard him laugh, let alone smile. You honestly don’t think that anyone had. This was not normal, and you had never been so afraid.

“You really don’t understand, do you!” He said as he combed his fingers through his raven locks. “I guess if you can’t figure it out for yourself, I’ll have to help you understand, hm?” He said, his laughter dying down as he came upon the last phrase, his stormy eyes shifting over to the small switchblade that he had taken from the drawer moments before, your own e/c irises following suit. They widened as you realized what he was gazing at, and you were thrown right back into your state of panic as you watched his murderous gaze linger on the blade.

“Levi, please, I’ll do anything,” your eyes flickered back up to his face, pleading with him as the image of the knife flashed through your mind. “Anything, just please don’t hurt me, I promise, I wasn’t in the right state of mind, it was a mistake, if I could go back I woul-“ You were cut off yet again, but this time by a sudden pressure on your arms. Before you could even comprehend what was happening, you were shoved on your back with your wrists pinned beside your head while Levi, who was now straddling your waist, had the upper ground.

“Didn’t I tell you to only speak when prompted?” He said, voice trembling with fury. He leaned down over you, until his lips were within an inch of your ear. “Didn’t I tell you to obey me?” He said. By now, you were shaking. Not out of fear, no, but out of pure, unadulterated anger. You knew that he would count your silence as submission, so you took a deep breath in, preparing to scream.

“Get the FUCK OFF OF ME YOU LITTLE FUCKER!” You yelled out, your voice hoarse and venomous. You struggled against his hold, managing to land a solid kick in his gut and push yourself out from underneath him. You rolled off of the bed, hoping you had enough time to reach the door before he recovered from your blow. However, your fight was in vain, as you soon found yourself once again suffering a kick to the back of your rib cage. You collapsed on the ground, but still you were determined to not give up, and thus you began to claw your way towards the hopefully unlocked door of his dorm.

You heard him tut behind you before grabbing your ankle and dragging you away from your only hope of escape.

“You know, if you keep pulling shit like this things are only going to get worse for you,” he said as he threw you back onto the bed. His voice made you sick. You hated how he was treating you as though you were nothing more than an unruly child, a brat that just needed to be tamed. “Now, stay down like a good girl, hmm?” You let out a shaky breath and began to think about your situation. In the years that you had trained alongside your colleagues outside of the walls, you had always noticed how...different Levi seemed to be, at least compared to everyone else. Despite keeping to himself a good amount, he was driven, more so than anyone else you had ever known. He was determined to rise through the ranks, and oftentimes did whatever he could in order to do so, even if this meant putting himself way before others. Nevertheless, you had looked up to Levi for a good chunk of your career. A part of you still did. Maybe that’s why you took such an interest in the young captain, and why he did the same for you. You had, at one point, allowed yourself to be vulnerable around him. At the time you felt like a burden, but he assured you that you were okay. For a while there, you even felt something a little...deeper.. for the man, but now it seems those feelings have dissipated, just like all of the previous respect he held for you. At least, that’s what you would have thought based on the way he treated you. But the way he was occasionally gentle with you after he had his little tantrums, or how he would look out for you while out on the battlefield kept you coming back for more. That was, until he had forced you to literally keep yourself captive. That was when you had finally snapped and decided to put an end to the maddening thoughts that swarmed your head whenever you so much as saw Levi. You needed to get away, you couldn’t bear to even see his face anymore. It was horrible, yet..rousing. Yes, that’s what it was. Levi’s presence was maddening, Intoxicating. Addictive. He was sadistic, yet careful. Ruthless, but calm. How could he act so vile yet be so alluring?

“Are you even listening to me?” He yelled out, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Little slut, you never listen!” Grabbing a fistful of your hair, he forced you onto your back, staring down at you, face full of contempt. “Now, you’re going to stay put, alright?” He said as he untangled his hand from his locks, instead moving to unbutton your shirt. In what felt like less than a second he had removed your blouse and jacket, revealing your simple white bra. Soon he had taken off your bottoms as well, leaving you fully exposed to the man in front of you. In turn, he pulled off his own shirt, making sure to show off his well toned stomach to you. He looked at you expectantly, eyebrows furrowing after a few seconds of staring at your cowering form. “On your knees,” he spat out in a gruff voice. You swallowed, lip trembling ever so slightly as you lowered yourself onto the cold hardwood beneath you, already bruised knees slamming onto the floor as you fell. Before you knew it, he had taken his throbbing member out of his pants. He already appeared to be aroused, which only made you grimace ever so slightly. The sick bastard was getting off on beating you, a realization which you wished you didn’t have to come to terms with. He really was just a fucking psychopath.

As he drew closer to your face, angling himself so his dick was level with your mouth you began to lean away, turning your jaw slightly to the side as your disgust took over and you could no longer hide your feelings of abhorrance. However, he only kept inching closer, pressing his cock up against your cheek. That was the last straw, and you began to push as hard as you could against his thighs, attempting to free yourself from the disgusting man.

“Stop it, get away from me, I hate you, and you’re dirty and fuc-”

Your protests were cut off by the feeling of a boot colliding with your face, causing you to fall over onto your back. You clutched your nose, whimpering a bit as you pulled your hand away, seeing blood splattered across your fingers.

“You think you can just talk back to me? Huh, little brat?” He grabbed your wrist, once again forcing you onto your knees in front of him. Before you could even think about a possible retort, you felt his shaft against the walls of your mouth. You began to choke as he shoved it further into your mouth, coughing erratically around his cock. You tried to pull away, but before you could he had entangled a palm in your hair, pulling you towards him, resulting in you trying to stabilize yourself against the floor beneath your shaking body. Levi thrust your head back and forth, forcing you to suck his now hard cock. You tried to speak, to tell him to stop or to make him feel some sort of pity for you, but this proved to be impossible, as he was currently balls deep into your mouth. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he let go of your hair, allowing you to fall backwards onto your ass. You groaned out in pain as you hit the floor, but, nevertheless, you were glad that your little session was over. That is, until you saw him reach for the switchblade that had, up until now, been sitting on a small side table by his bed.

“No, no, no Levi please!” You pleaded with him once again, scrambling away from the man before you. You brought your knees into your chest and your arms up, effectively shielding your face. However, your defenses were quickly broken by Levi, and you were soon torn up yet again from your spot on the floor. You were back on the bed in a second, your face squishing into the sheets as Levi kneeled on your back, completely eradicating any hope you had of escaping the ravenette. He unclipped your bra, leaving your back completely bare, which only served to worry you more. Suddenly, you felt a cool, tingly sensation brushing across your back. It almost felt like…

Before you could even register what was happening, a searing pain spread across your form, one that you knew all too well.

“LEV-“ You screamed out, part of you trying to plead with him while the rest of you just wanted a way to alleviate the horrible feeling of a blade carving deep into your back. But, before you could even hope to finish your sentence, you were silenced by a rough hand wrapping around your chin, forcing your mouth closed.

“No, since you can’t seem to get it through your head that you belong to ME, and that you must obey ME, I guess I’ll just have to help you along a bit, perhaps with something more permanent.”

You quivered at his words, a muffled scream escaping your mouth as you felt him stick the knife back into your delicate flesh.

He continued on like this for a while, each of his stabs long, drawn out, and excessively precise. After he was finally certain that the wounds were deep enough, that they would scar over nicely and not ever fade, he shifted himself back to survey his work. Inscribed across your back was the word ‘Levi’, each of the characters in his name leaking blood across your frame. He smiled, wider than he ever had, at the symbol of ownership, the brand which he had placed upon your body. Now you were his, truly his. Future lovers, family members, friends, anyone and everyone could see that you belonged to him, that he owned you.

Your no longer muffled sobs echoed through the room, a pitiful display of weakness that he would usually frown upon. However, he was feeling a little...strange as he heard your choked out whimpers. Almost remorseful. A person such as Levi should not feel pity for anyone, especially not someone who was lower than himself. At least that was what he was taught when he was but a child. Of course this was not the kindest approach to living, nor was it in any way empathetic, but look how far it got him! He was an esteemed captain, someone who started out with nothing and rose through the ranks faster than anyone before him. He shouldn’t change the very thing that made him successful over a little bit of moral turmoil, right? But, somehow, seeing you sprawled out of the bed, blood splattered across your shoulders and tears staining your cheeks, he felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. Levi looked down at your weak form, inhaling sharply before turning towards the bathroom door that sat in the corner of his room. He ruffled through his cabinets before his hand landed on some gauze, which he grasped onto and brought back into the room with him. You were still lying on the bed, form completely vulnerable as he sat down next to you, causing the mattress to sink a bit. He unwrapped some of the gauze, furrowing his brows and eyeing your injuries as he did so. Taking another breath, he began to wrap the bandages gingerly around your frame, watching as you flinched at his touch. After he was satisfied with the way in which he had dressed your wounds, he carefully flipped you onto your back once more, staring into your dilated pupils with such an intensity that you feared he was going to hurt you more than he already had. However, after a few seconds of searching your face, he only leaned down over you, planting a tender kiss against your plush lips.

“Thank you,” He murmured, the movement sending vibrations through your lips. You closed your eyes, melting into the kiss just a little bit more. You knew that you should probably resist, that you should push him away and get as far away from the man as you could, but you just- you couldn’t. He was broken, it was obvious. What kind of person would you be if you left someone who needed help behind? Although he was a bit selfish, and even sadistic at times, Levi had always looked after those who were ranked lower than him, even going so far as to shield them from serious harm when fighting. And the way he would let his touches linger on you a bit, making sure to make some sort of contact with you whenever possible was...sweet, to you at least. These little reaffirmations, his little spouts of care were enough to make you stay. That combined with the fact that you really weren’t sure what he would do if you ever tried to leave. But that’s the way some relationships were, right? You’ve got the good, and the bad, and the ugly. Some people were just more prone to the last two things, right? You two were fine. It was normal for couples to fight, if one could even consider you and the short man to be a couple. Sure your relationship could be seen as a little more...unconventional to other people, but he was satisfied, and you were fine.

After all, love was supposed to be different for everyone, right?

#levi #levi ackerman #levi x reader #yandere levi x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere #aot #x reader #attack on titan x reader #yandere levi #yandere levi ackerman

276 notes · View notes

avengersassemble-fics · 4 years

Text

But Not Us

part 01/?? “one day i’ll tell you”

summary: Set pre/during Endgame. Steve Rogers has been running a help group in New York for the people who survived Thanos’ snap, to help them move on from the traumatic event. The past four years (yes, not five just yet) have been hard on everyone - especially with the recent disappearances of people who didn’t vanish from the snap. The Avengers are no more, and the only ones who can protect the Disappearing are themselves.

next part

word count 2.4k

an: look I KNOW but i had this in my drafts for over a year pls i wanted to share with you guys. this takes liberties from both agents of shield (LINCOLN DESERVED BETTER) and the movies. i hope you enjoy?? also steve is bearded but I can’t find bearded steve content pls help a girl out.

The sun filtered in through the edges of a window shade, casting a shaded light into the room. It lowly glistened against the wall like any other day, like nothing had ever happened, like nothing was happening at that very moment. The sound of a phone vibrated in the silent room, and was soon followed by the low noise of a grumble, and a hand shot out from under the blanket to grip the phone. The hand disappeared back under the covers and little murmurs filled the room, soon followed by a body sitting up in the bed.

You held your phone in one hand while the other ran through your hair as you were reading the message. It was your friend, Lincoln, letting you know that everything was fine where he was, and that he looked forward to seeing you later tonight to catch up. You tossed the phone against your pillows and lifted the blankets off your body and headed into your closet.

You reached for a soft knit sweater and threw it over your torso, and grabbed a pair of black leggings and slid your legs into them as well. It was almost noon, later than you’re used to starting your day, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to get up this morning. That was one of the hardest things about being a Survivor.

Survivor. A term coined by the media for all the people who didn’t disappear four years ago. It felt wrong to be called that, but you guess you could understand where it resonated with people. Losing your loved ones right in front of you was hard. It was hard wondering if they had felt any pain during that moment, it was hard to continue to try to live your normal day to day lives like just nothing had even happened.

You took a shaky breath as you got lost in your train of thought. You walked out of your closet and quickly grabbed your phone and small wallet and shoved both into separate pockets, and headed out the front door of your apartment and locking it tightly. You made your way down the hall towards the stairs and started your descent down. The weight on your shoulders always felt lighter when you went to these meetings, hearing everyone else’s stories and being able to talk about your struggles helped.

You finally made it outside and glanced up for a second at the sky. The sun was out, but there were gloomy clouds that covered the sunshine and created a dark cast around you. This is how most days looked, the streets were far emptier than they used to be, but nonetheless you started down the street towards the community center.

You had started going to these meetings about 4 months ago. Around that time people had started going missing every few days but there wasn’t a lot of coverage about it, almost like it wasn’t even really happening. You were angry about that, and you sought out this place because of the man who ran them. You needed a bit of assurance that everything was going to be okay.

Everything they said about Steve Rogers was correct, 100%. He was a good man in the wrong time, and it really made you feel for him. He often talked about how it’s hard to move on, but after while you just have to. He would mention how he met the love of his life and lost her when he went into the ice for seventy years.

You accidentally ran into someone who was coming out of the building you were about to enter, and offered an apology but they had kept walking. For a moment you could’ve sworn they looked familiar, maybe. It wasn’t entirely impossible given the small amount of people you saw walking down the streets nowadays. Strangers became neighbors, so you didn’t think much of it. You shook your head as you pulled open the heavy door and walked into the air conditioning.

From the entrance there’s a hallway that leads down to the meeting room, and it was eerily quiet. Well to be honest, everything was eerily quiet nowadays. It was something you just had to get used to. You rounded the corner into the room and were surprised to find it completely empty. You checked the time on your phone to see the meeting indeed didn’t start for another 15 minutes and hummed quietly to yourself as you found a seat in the circle.

Crossing your arms you took a look around, tapping your foot on the tile flooring, and before your mind could drift again, there were footsteps coming from behind you.

“You’re early again,” the voice said as they took the seat next to you, their hands resting nicely in their lap.

You nodded, letting out the smallest of sighs and turning a bit to meet their eyes “Yeah I don’t know, I just.. I couldn’t sleep.”

Steve Rogers nodded. “I understand that feeling all too well. Is it work again?”

And there it was! Your big fat lie about “work”. The truth is you haven’t had a “job”, if that’s what you called what you did, since 2016, when Tony Stark and Steve Rogers went head to head against one another. Not since the Accords were signed into place. Here’s the truth, you were lying to Steve Rogers since the day you met him.

You nodded your head. “Yeah.. It’s just been a bit.. Stressful. We’ve been losing people recently.”

He nodded, a little ah that resonated within his chest. “Seems to be happening a lot recently. I think it would be best to find something that helps relax you.”

“What, are you saying I look tense?” you threw back at him, and he grinned a bit before lightly shrugging.

“No of course not.. Just that it doesn’t have to be all doom and gloom, (Y/N),” he paused as he gauged your reaction before continuing. You nodded your head a bit, so he continued. “Did you end up going on that date?”

You bit your lip to stifle a laugh, which sparked his interest. You rarely laughed at the meetings, or really showed any emotion other than just sitting there and thinking, analyzing some people may say. So, all that to say, seeing you chuckle was something he didn’t see much.

“What, what’s so funny?” he asked, and you smiled and shook your head.

“Oh god it was just.. it was so bad. I’ve been on some bad dates in my life but.. I mean wow!”

Steve smiled, rubbing his hands together. “Ah come on, it couldn’t have been that bad.”

You narrowed your eyes. “He admitted to a substance abuse addiction and how he’d been up for 37 hours straight, and then passed out in the middle of dinner.”

Steve nodded, and then immediately shook his head. “I’m not sure what to say to that, that’s pretty bad.”

You smiled and both of your attentions went to the other people who were just entering the room. Steve excused himself and stood up walking over and shaking a couple of people’s hands. You leaned back into the chair and checked your phone one last time before the meeting started.

Later that evening, you had just finished seeing your friend and were headed back home, starving and decided to stop into a takeout place close to your apartment. It was a little chillier in the evening then during the day, and you welcomed the smell of the food that hit you as soon as you walked in. You walked up to the counter and waited for the person in front of you to place their order, and tried to decide between the Pad Thai or the Pepper Steak. Was it more of a noodle night or a meaty one?

You were lost in thought when someone entered the line behind you and the person in front was done ordering, you smiled at the woman behind the counter and decided on the Pad Thai, but asked if they could make it a bit spicier for you. With a nod she told you your total, and the person behind you chimed in. “Can you make that two? I got it,” and handed the employee the card past your head.

You turned to face them to say thanks, but no thanks, when you were met with ever tall, ever broad shouldered, Steve Rogers. You were distracted, staring at him really, as the woman charged his card and handed it back to him, and he shoved the wallet back into his pockets, along with his hands. You blinked a couple times, and he met your eyes. “Hi,” he greeted.

“Hey,” you replied, shaking your head. “Why- you didn’t have to I was just heading home-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he shook his head. “So was I. It’s my good deed for the day.”

You both stepped out of the way, and took a couple of seats at a free table to wait for the food. You laced your fingers together as you leaned forward against the table. “Good deed, huh? What was it yesterday, helping someone cross the street?”

“Actually yeah,” he grinned and you smiled, shaking your head.

“So everything they say is true then. Not the perfect soldier but the perfect man,” you commented, moving a ring around on your finger, and Steve shrugged.

“That’s what they say.”

You sat back, crossing your arms, “Do you not believe that?”

Steve didn’t really know if he did. It’s what he was always told, but what if it wasn’t true? Certainly the things that had happened the past few years didn’t make him feel like he was this “perfect” man. He turned his back on Tony, and he was right when he said he abandoned him. And they didn’t lose together, what if they had been together and won? Beat Thanos. And none of this would’ve happened.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the life he didn’t get to have with Peggy. He often found himself losing his train of thought as other people spoke and would think about holding her as they finally had that dance they promised one another.

“I don’t know anymore,” he answered honestly.

That stung. It also stuck with you for the next few weeks as you avoided going to those meetings after your talk with Steve that night. Guilt ate you up, to be completely honest. You ran a hand through your hair as Lincoln spoke to you.

“That’s three more this week,” he said and you groaned.

“But how? How are they able to find us? It’s not like we have big flashing signs that say, “Here we are!” or anything,” you said and shoved a fry into your mouth, but Lincoln only shrugged. “Has your connection gotten back to you?”

“No,” he replied, setting his cup down onto the desk. You both sat in this dingy room on opposite sides of an equally old beaten up desk, shoving greasy fast food into your mouths. You whipped a fry around as you spoke.

“So she’s AWOL, and we have people disappearing from their homes. Police don’t care, the Avengers are pretty much AWOL too.. So.. What else is there? Besides us?”

Lincoln shrugged. “I don’t know.. Unless we just formed our own.. Group? League?”

“What, our own little Avengers?” You chuckled, and he dropped his burger.

“What if? What if we spread a rumor, a quiet one, about others like us? About what’s happening? And that we have a safe place here in the city!”

You pondered for a second, but slowly a smile formed on your lips. “Y’know what Lincoln that’s not a bad idea,” you stood up grabbing all your trash, and Lincoln followed your motions. “Why don’t we come back tomorrow and start brainstorming that? It’s been a long day already.”

“Agreed,” Lincoln said, and with that you were on your separate way, after finally convincing him you would be fine walking home by yourself. He reluctantly agreed and you made it back safely, there weren’t as many criminals on the streets anymore. You started up the stairs to your apartment and when you made it to the first landing leading to your floor, you came to a stop when the path was blocked by a figure.

Your keys raddled and the head lifted up to meet your gaze. “What are you doing here?”

“Just wanted to check in, it’s been awhile since you’ve stopped by.”

Steve Rogers got to his feet and was towering over you, his hands finding their way to his pants pocket. You huffed, stepping around him. “And that means you wait outside my apartment? Are you allowed to do that?”

You were walking towards your apartment door, Steve following and keeping a comfortable distance between the two of you. You fumbled with your keys into the door, a bit nervous that he was here. Did he find you out? That you’re a fucking liar and he was there to bust you and arrest you? Not that he had the power to throw you in jail.. What about an Avengers jail? That probably wasn’t a thing though.

“It would probably be frowned upon,” he agreed, and you had finally managed to get the door unlocked and slightly pushed open. You stopped to meet his gaze. “I was just worried since you haven’t stopped by recently.”

“I’ve just been..”

“Busy?” he asked. That was always your excuse to him. It was your excuse for this, for never really sharing to the group, never wanting to go out with anyone to move on, just pretty much everything.

You didn’t answer, and Steve took a step forward. You straightened your stance to watch him, a hand still on your door knob, taking the sight of him in. Steve had this lighter grey shirt on and jeans, and he had a pretty good beard going on again. You blinked slowly and a grumble escaped your lips.

“Okay I promise I really have been busy,” you started, clasping your hands together. “But I.. I can’t really say what it is exactly.”

Steve nodded, shrugging his shoulders lightly. “Look I get it. I know that trusting people with what’s important to you can be hard, and I hope one day you can tell me those things,” he paused to gauge your emotions before continuing. “Because honestly, I don’t really know much about you.”

You stared at him for a few moments, a silence falling between you two. Your eyes were locked for a few moments before you mustered up a reply.

“One day I’ll tell you.”

- - - - - - - - - -

taglist // message me to be added or feel free to add yourself!!

@feelmyroarrrr @weasleyisourjedi @loganrwebb @little-dark-empress @marinettepotterandplagg @barnesdameron

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers x you #steve x reader #steve x you #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x you #steve rogers fic #captain america fic #endgame fic #avengers fic

24 notes · View notes

humananalytica · 4 years

Text

Good Omens Holiday Swap

Fic for @maandarinee, based on two promps:

I always love Crowley and Aziraphale having some magic Connection where they're Connected for whatever reason and can hear/feel/whatever each other;

Aziraphale or Crowley gets summoned/captured/trapped and the other goes into Rage Mode while getting them back (alternative: one THINKS the other is dead [pls don't actually kill anyone/ bring them back miraculously] and goes into Rage Revenge Mode)

Hope you enjoy! Fic under the cut.

“Where the Heaven are you, you idiot? I can’t find you!” Crowley cast around wildly for even a hint of Aziraphale’s presence. He’d been terribly worried, and frustrated, then there’d been a flash of pain, and now- “Aziraphale, for God’s- For Satan’s- Ah! For somebody’s sake, where are you?!”

A wall of water slammed into Crowley’s chest and knocked him to the ground.

At the same time, a trace of demonic essence collided with Crowley and settled back in his ribcage, just as lost as the rest of him felt. “You’ve gone,” he said to the empty bookshop, “Somebody killed my best friend!”

“Bastards! All of you!” he screamed, disoriented and grieving. Aziraphale was gone and he wasn’t coming back, not ever, and the bookshop was on fire.

His gaze fell on a book that had, somehow, not yet gone up in flames. The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter. He picked it up. He could, perhaps, save just this little something from the fire. Crowley willed the doors to open for him and left the bookshop.

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

Getting summoned was an exercise in bending quantum mechanics that always left Crowley vaguely nauseous. He didn’t really appreciate his corporation being jerked around without a warning. As a result, the small handful of humans [1] who had actually managed to summon him over the centuries tended to find him in a bad mood.

This particular attempt was one of the worst that Crowley had ever experienced. It was full of metaphysical holes, less of a net and more of a tangled mess of rope. It pinched his noncorporeal being uncomfortably when he pushed against the bounds of the circle, but didn’t offer burning pain or impermeable resistance.

“Demon Crawly, serpent of Eden.”

“Don’t use that name anymore.” Crowley drawled, tucking his fingers into his pockets. “Haven’t used that name in a couple millenia.” He rotated slowly, studying the summoning circle from all angles.

“It was the name that I invoked to summon you.” The summoner replied, without a whisper of confusion or doubt. “It is the name we will use.”

‘We?’ Crowley mentally hissed in irritation, even as he began cataloguing the ways he could get out of the situation. So far, it was looking like his summoner was working with outdated material, felt entitled to . . . whatever he was going to demand of Crowley, and seemed completely convinced that he hadn’t made a mistake. Relatively straightforward to work with, if you had a few milennia’s experience working with Hell.

“I need to learn how to have sex with a woman.” The summoner dramatically threw open the door to the windowless room, revealing a young-ish man with a sweatshirt hood pulled down to his nose.

Crowley blinked, trying to parse why sex with a woman was in any way relevant to what he’d, specifically, had ever done in Eden. Well. Better to let them tell you what they think they’re getting.

“So you came to me,” Crowley tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, as if asking a question.

“Yes,” he said, shuffling inside and shutting the door behind him. “I summoned you because you were the giver of all knowledge and the first tempter, and now I need that knowledge to be given to me.”

There were so many reasons why giving humans knowledge of Good and Evil did not equate to Crowley having some secret knowledge of how to convince a woman to have sex.[2] But Crowley guessed- he wanted what he wanted, and telling him ‘no, sorry, can’t help you,’ would have been met with hostility and disbelief.

“Well, you’ve certainly done your homework.” Crowley pressed against the boundaries of the summoning circle again, trying to gauge if the human took notice. No reaction was forthcoming.

“Can you help me or not?” the man whined, eventually.

“Possibly, but it might take a while.” Crowley hedged. “In the meantime, what should I call you?”

“Uh,” he stuttered, flustered, “‘Sir’ would probably be alright, ‘Master’ is a little gay, I think-”

“How about your name.” Crowley crossed his arms and gave a little half-smile. “Most people prefer that.”

The man paused, then seemed to collect himself. “Tristan.”

“Right, Tristan, I’ll see what I can do for you.” He glanced down at the circle, and his gaze caught on a phrase that defined him as ‘bound to be a servant’. A spark of an idea began to form in his mind. “We may have to make a few revisions to this circle, though.”

“What’s wrong with the circle?” Tristan snapped. “I didn’t make any mistakes. I checked.”

Crowley dropped to one knee and swept his hand over the characters in question. “Look, if you want to still have your soul after losing your virginity, you’re going to have to listen to me.” Tristan’s focus sharpened, and he knelt down opposite Crowley with palpable concern.

He pointed out a handful of words. “This bit defines me as servant of Hell. [3] Now, I’ll be sporting and fill you in on how it’s relevant here. Means that I’m obligated to deliver your soul to Hell if I hold up my end of the contract, deserving or not.”

“When I die?” He made no move to get an eraser or writing utensils, so Crowley pressed on.

“Preciscely,” he hissed, “And it’s whether you have sex once or you do it every day for the rest of your mortal life. Going to Hell for a shag is a load of bollocks, if you ask me.”

The subtle admonishing flew completely over Tristan’s head, not that the demon had expected much. He waffled for half a minute, then dragged a box of chalk out from under a stack of notebooks. “Which one makes you tied to Hell? I’ll just-” He mimed erasing with his free hand. “-and that should be good, right?”

Crowley mentally calculated the metaphysical gap that would result from an unbalanced circle without a complete binding clause and concluded that his odds were relatively good. “Here,” he tapped a single fingernail on the concrete floor, “In the lines closest to me.”

Tristan nodded, then crouched on the floor with an eraser. Crowley’s entire body tensed up on the physical realm as he focused on reaching through the holes in the binding towards home. The eraser wiped the characters into oblivion, and a half second later, Crowley tumbled into the back room of the bookshop. [4]

Aziraphale arrived a moment later, brandishing a teakettle in a manner that carried a subtle threat of bodily harm.

And caught sight of Crowley slowly rising to his feet and straightening his clothes. “What on Earth are you doing?” he asked, relaxing his stance.

Crowley, satisfied with the state of his clothing, flopped into an armchair. “I need a drink.”

[1] And in one memorable instance, some poor woman’s pet cats.

[2] Though he could guess that not summoning demons into your cellar whilst doing a low-budget impersonation of Emperor Palpatine would be a step in the right direction.

[3] This was a lie. In actuality, it defined him as bound to serve in general, implicating the summoner. Tristan, who was not remotely fluent in any of the Old languages, did not cotton on to this bit of deception.

[4] The exact mechanics of this maneuver are, naturally, beyond the human ability to observe. If one were looking for a good analogy, it would help to imagine Crowley as a rubber band, forcing himself through a very small opening by stretching very thin, and then abruptly springing back into his normal state once through. It was exactly as uncomfortable as it sounds.

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

“Right,” Aziraphale said, adding generous pours of bourbon to two mugs of earl grey tea. “What has you so shaken?”

“Wiggled out of a summoning.” Crowley explained, turning his attention to his drink, taking a long swallow and relaxing back against the cushions. “Some idiot who wanted me to help him have sex.”

“Certainly not with-”

“With women.” he cut Aziraphale off. “Young, pretty ones if I had to guess a type.”

“I see,” Aziraphale replied, in a tone that encouraged more details.

“The entire thing was ridiculous, Aziraphale, you have no idea. He did a lot of research, only to put out the whole bloody thing out on a cellar floor with some school chalk. ’S insulting.” He took another swallow of tea, then reached over and topped up his mug with more whiskey. “I should probably try to track down where he got his materials, unless I want to be summoned every time one of his mates decides that I’m the solution to their dry spell.”

“I can reach out to some of my associates and see if any of them know anything about old summoning manuals reentering circulation.” The angel offered, eyeing Crowley with some concern. “There can’t be very many of them in circulation.”

Crowley nodded, accepting. “I’d wager that he found it online, but he also called me Crawly, so the original text is going to be from some point B.C.”

“That does narrow things down considerably.” Aziraphale fished out his pocket watch and glanced at it. “It’s quite late now, but I can sort out a few leads and make calls in the morning.” he glanced up to see Crowley pouring more alcohol into his mug. “My dear, are you alright?”

“Just. Eugh. Aftereffects from forcing myself outside of the circle without it breaking.” Crowley took a gulp of lukewarm tea-flavored bourbon and winced.

“Crowley. You’re shaking quite badly.” After a second of hesitation, Aziraphale gently prised the trembling mug from his grip and set it down on the table, keeping a hold on his twitching fingers.

Crowley blushed. “Sorry.”

“Apologising isn’t necessary.” Aziraphale frowned. “I can feel how distressed you are. It’s usually quite difficult for me to pick up on negative emotions.”

“Maybe you’re looking for it.” Crowley muttered into his free hand. “I can feel happiness and love if ‘m trying to find it. Usually just keep an eye out for the negative stuff, though.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Aziraphale agreed. “I should be in better practice when it comes to sensing distress.” He did not release Crowley’s hand, and the demon felt him probing further. “Well, you’re certainly not all right, I can tell that much.” The angel’s gaze was sharp.

“‘Sss fine. Aziraphale.” Crowley decided that he was not inebriated enough for the conversation and took more bourbon-with-a-splash-of-tea with a still shaking hand, swallowed hard.

“Is this how you would find me, when I would get into a spot of trouble?” he asked. “Tracking feelings of distress and worry?”

“Sssort of.”

“Well, what else then?” he pressed, and if he had noticed Crowley’s embarrassment, he ignored it. “Crowley.”

Bless it. Aziraphale was getting more worried, and more curious, which was a dangerous combination. His desire to soothe the angel managed to overpower his embarrassment, just barely. He finished what was left in his mug and tried to not think too hard about him still holding his hand.

“Do y’know,” Crowley said at length, “How little traces of demonic or ethereal energy can be left around if you try?”

“Yes.”

“Went a little further. Stuck a little bit of my soul with you back in Rome by accident. And it was useful to find you later, so I didn’t take it back.” And it had been a mistake. Crowley had been drunk on Roman wine and angelic company and he had been preemptively grieving losing Aziraphale’s presence for the night, and likely for the foreseeable future. He’d barely noticed when a piece of himself had wrenched its way out of his corporation and onto Aziraphale [5]. “I could sense your distress because part of me was always next to you. In a way.”

Aziraphale got a quiet, faraway look that, Crowley knew, meant he was very quickly sorting through new information. “I know that I shouldn’t have left it for so long, and, ngk” -I’m sorry that I did it without asking or telling you, the actual apology died in his throat.

The bookshop was silent, save for the clocks and the creaking of old furniture as Crowley sank down into Aziraphale’s chair, incandescent with shame. “It’s gone now, anyway. Got it back in the bookshop after you’d discorporated.” He had half a mind to withdraw away from Aziraphale’s judgement, but stayed resolutely in place. The angel deserved to know, at least.

The clocks continued ticking. Crowley resisted sliding onto the floor. Aziraphale had not removed his hand from his. He could sense sadness and maybe a little pity from the angel, if he looked, but there wasn’t any anger or fear, so the demon kept still.

Finally, Aziraphale shifted and sighed. “I suppose it could be considered an invasion of privacy, but I can’t say that I personally mind, the thought of you leaving a bit of your soul within my corporation.” Crowley wasn’t looking, but he could feel the angel’s smile. “It got us out of a fair bit of trouble.” His thumb stroked Crowley’s knuckles.

He vaguely wondered if drinking more would make the situation more or less bearable to deal with.

“Would you like to do it again?” Aziraphale said, at length. “And I could, perhaps, do the same for you, place a small part of my soul in your corporation permanently. If you’re amenable.”

Yes, a thousand times yes, I would do anything to be able to find you if you needed me. I’ve missed it. I would love to hold a piece of you with me always, Crowley thought, aching with hope. “Are you sure about this, angel?” came out of his mouth.

“Only if you are,” Aziraphale countered, radiating steadfast certainty. “I would like it very much. We’re on our own side, I want to reflect that.”

“I’d like it too,” Crowley managed, swallowing. “Just don’t want to saddle you with my emotions.”

“Crowley.” He finally looked at Aziraphale, startled by the intensity of frustrated love that flowed under and with the angel’s conviction. “I want to know when something is wrong. I would love to be able to feel you, Crowley, and I cannot imagine growing tired of you.” He smiled again. “If anything, all the past six thousand years have done is made me want to spend even more time with you.”

“‘Ziraphale.” Crowley whispered, nervous and elated and so in love that it ached. “Now?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale glowed, rising to his feet. “Just one moment.” He went around and drew curtains shut, concealing them completely from outside view. “Would you like to sober up a bit, dear?” he asked, straightening his clothes.

“I was incredibly drunk last time I did this.” Crowley protested, shuddering alcohol out of his bloodstream anyway and getting his legs underneath him.

“Do you remember how you did it?” Aziraphale gestured vaguely. “You may have to show me.”

“Here.” Crowley fumbled about in the metaphysical plane, pulling out roughly the same amount of himself that he’d unintentionally recovered in the bookshop fire during The End Times That Hadn’t Been. It manifested in his hand as an odd, shifting shadow, dancing around his fingertips and reaching for Aziraphale.

Aziraphale’s eyes flashed, and then the rest of him glowed, the vision of his true form superimposed over his corporation. With the infinite care of an antique book collector, he steadied Crowley’s wrist with his left hand, and with his right, drew the offered piece of Crowley into himself, guiding the little shadow to coil up and around his left arm.

Crowley felt as it settled against Aziraphale, and his sense of the angel sharpened into comfortable clarity.

Aziraphale inhaled and exhaled slowly, the image of his true form fading from view. With another breath, he brought a little bit of his soul out of his corporation, a white-gold flame that hovered in his cupped hands.

Crowley offered his left arm in kind, watched his true form as a piece of Aziraphale slid up his palm and forearm in an uneven starburst. It shivered as it settled in, mirroring the angel’s pleased wiggle in Crowley’s periphery.

“I’ve never felt you with such clarity before,” Aziraphale said, awed.

“Sorry.” Crowley offered on reflex, feeling a sleepy, pleasant buzz settle over him.

“Really, now.” the angel reprimanded gently. “It feels lovely, dear, and I don’t wish to be without it.”

“Mmm.” he mumbled, nearly unhinging his jaw with a yawn and sitting down on a couch. “Does feel nice.”

The cushion dipped with Aziraphale’s weight, and Crowley tried to discreetly scoot closer. The angel took notice and guided his head to his shoulder. “It was a bit reckless of me to do that, wasn’t it?” His thumb traced a delicate pattern along Crowley’s jaw.

“A bit.” He yawned again.

“Then again,” Aziraphale continued wryly, “It has been over a millenia since we established the arrangement, one could argue that this was a long time coming.”

“Hm.” he mumbled into the angel’s shoulder, all but melting into the touch. “Got there now.”

“You can sleep, Crowley.” He said, reclining and pulling the demon closer. “I’m not going anywhere.” The lights in the bookshop dimmed invitingly, and Crowley drifted off with Aziraphale’s hand in his hair.

[5] In his inebriated state, Crowley had been unable to distinguish it from the human version of heartbreak.

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

Crowley could not relax. There was something irritating brushing at his consciousness, like a shirt tag. He couldn’t place its source, exactly, and over the course of the week he became increasingly more frustrated. Aziraphale had quickly noticed the frustration despite Crowley’s attempts to downplay it, proving to be a frighteningly quick study.

It wasn’t the new link between himself and Aziraphale, as far as they could tell. Neither one had particularly wanted to dissolve it to be certain.

He had been walking towards the Bentley, intending to return to the bookshop after caring for the plants in his flat, when the irritation that had been following him around intensified to a sharp tug. Ah, he thought, preparing to return to the not-quite-broken summoning circle, that explains it.

He rematerialized in the same circle, with its erased parts redrawn and an extra circle of text around the whole thing, adding a layer of restraints that Crowley couldn’t see an easy way out of. Tristan was standing with his arms crossed in front of Crowley, wearing a slightly different hoodie from the last time.

“Hi.” Crowley said, desperately trying to tamp down on his panic before it could show in his voice. “What brings me here?”

“You got out. That’s not going to happen again.” The man said, sounding understandably (if unjustifiably) pissed.

Crowley decided to try for honesty. “Look, I really can’t help you.”

“You will.” Tristan insisted. “I command you to!”

“Commanding me to do something-” Crowley hissed and recoiled from where he’d been probing at the barriers, nerves burning like they’d been sliced open and dipped in acid.

“So you found my extra protections.” he observed, “good luck getting out of those, Serpent.”

“Still won’t change the fact that I can’t help you. Both of us are wasting our time.” Crowley pushed again. The burning flared against his consciousness, greying out his vision. When he blinked himself back to awareness, he was kneeling on the ground, shaking.

Tristan was watching him, now seated on a rolling office chair. “Keep struggling if you want. You’re only making it harder on yourself.”

Crowley hissed at Tristan, dragging himself to his feet, spitting out blood from where he’d accidentally bitten his cheek.

“Crawly, Serpent of Eden, you are bound to serve me.” Tristan intoned, reading from a computer printout. “You will remain bound until I release you.”

“What do you wish of me, master?” the demon spat sarcastically. “Shall I perform a resurrection? Balance the moon on top of Everest? Either one would be easier than convincing a woman to ever have sex with you.”

“You’ll regret that!” Tristan glared at Crowley, then began rifling through binders. “I have something here that shows me how to punish you.”

Crowley stayed stubbornly silent, still aching from probing the barriers and trying to tamp down on his panic.

“You,” Aziraphale was suddenly there, voice flat and cold, “are going to stop this nonsense at once.” The angel, glowing, wings out, and eyes piercing, loomed over Tristan, who flinched in shock and scrambled away.

Crowley noted, distantly, that he could see the shadow of his essence snaking up Aziraphale’s arm in this form. Aziraphale cast a concerned glance in his direction.

“Ugnnnn.” The man whined, pressing himself against a wall. The angel huffed, and a moment later appeared much more human shaped [6].

“Now. You are going to listen to me.” Aziraphale said. “You are going to erase the circle immediately, in its entirety.”

“You can’t make me!” Tristan protested, even as he reached for the eraser and crouched down in front of the circle. “That demon will attack me.”

“You have my word as an angel that you will come to no harm from him.” Aziraphale said. “And I suppose that I can’t make you, but it will be much easier to restrain him if my hands aren’t busy from doing the erasing.”

He cast a wary glance between the two supernatural entities and began erasing. Crowley made a lunge at him as the circle was broken, just for show, and was caught by Aziraphale, who supported the demon’s weight without flinching.

“Thank you.” The angel said, when it was finished. “I would also like you to tell me where, precisely, you learned this ritual.”

The human sat down at his computer and navigated to a forum, gesturing wordlessly to the screen. Aziraphale shifted Crowley off of him and peered at it. “Fascinating.” He said, “Tell them that it didn’t work.”

“It did work!”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. But anyone who summons Crowley will have to deal with me, and believe me, I will know if someone summons him with bad intentions, and I will end it by whatever means necessary.” Aziraphale said mildly, putting himself between the back of the chair and the rest of the room.

Tristan looked at him, then mulishly informed his contacts that the ritual had been ineffective. [7] “That’s not gonna stop everyone.”

“More fool them.” the angel replied primly, then tapped the computer, which sparked and died with a few alarmed beeps.

“You can’t just do that!” The human wailed, scrabbling to unplug the computer and inspect it for damage. Aziraphale stepped back to support Crowley again.

“You’ll find that I have.” Aziraphale snapped his fingers. “We’re leaving now. Do not try this again. Goodbye.” He snapped again, and Crowley found himself standing in the middle of his flat, being held upright by the angel.

“Thanks.” He said, sore and delirious with relief.

“You’re quite welcome. Would you like to go lie down?”

Crowley did not want to leave Aziraphale’s company. “Are you going to come with me?”

“Of course.” His voice was warm and fond, and he swept Crowley into his arms. “You really did give me quite a fright.”

Crowley, too tired to care about the loss of dignity, steadied himself by looping his arms around the angel’s neck. “I suppose you would have felt the summoning.”

“I did. It was highly unpleasant, and I do not wish to repeat the experience.” Aziraphale nudged the bedroom door open and deposited the demon onto the bed.

Crowley stretched and removed his shoes. “Speaking of, what about his binders full of notes? They were everywhere.”

“Yes, I had noticed those.” Aziraphale said. “I took care of them.” [8]

Changing into sleep clothes was the work of a couple miracles, and then Aziraphale was sliding under the covers next to Crowley.

“I memorized the screen name of the original poster. I’ll have to look into it, see if they’re the rightful owner or if one of my contacts has been stolen from.”

“Can that wait until tomorrow?” Crowley grumbled. “I’m comfortable here.”

“Of course, dearest.” Aziraphale said, and Crowley felt a pulse of love from the angel. “Would you like me to spend the night?”

In response, he wrapped himself around Aziraphale, burying his face into his neck. Aziraphale chuckled and put his arms around the demon, pressing his lips to the top of Crowley’s head. “Sleep well, Crowley.”

[6] But no less furious.

[7] Which, if you want to be technical, was not really a lie.

[8] The angel had miracled all of the ink off of the pages and back into the ink cartridges that it had come from. One didn’t want to be wasteful, after all.

#good omens #fanfiction #my writing #this got longer that I was expecting it to.#maandarinee #go holiday swap #long post

34 notes · View notes

sofuckingchuffed · 5 years

Note

Rhodestead - a fluffy response to Connor leaving, like the two of them personally staying together/moving in/getting married? Thank youuuuuu!

Uhh, so, I guess this is kinda what you asked for? It’s not really fluffy, but it has a happy ending. I hope you like it, and sorry it took me so long to write!

READ ON AO3! (pls leave kudos i live for kudos)

---

Fear swirled in Will’s stomach as he got ready for work. It started as an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach when he first opened his eyes, and by the time he was slinging his bag over his shoulder and grabbing his keys, it had reached a crescendo, pulsating in his hears, rattling inside his ribcage.

But it was Connor who stopped still as they were stepping out into the hall, face twisted with something Will couldn’t quite read.

“Connor?” He asked quietly after a moment, when it didn’t seem like Connor was going to move at all.

“I can’t,” he whispered in response, gaze finally meeting Will’s. His eyes were wide and sad and scared, and all of Will’s own fear disappeared completely in place or concern. “I d- I can’t do it.”

“Can’t do what?” He prompted gently, moving back inside his apartment and closing the door behind him.

“The hospital. I can’t go back there.”

Will frowned, placing his bag on the floor before closing the distance between them, hands on Connor’s shoulders.

“What? What’s going on?”

The fear came back tenfold then, joining the concern, forcing him to take a deep breath. He was sure Connor would have mentioned it if he’d heard something about Tim Burke being out of prison, but that doesn’t stop him wondering if that was what had Connor frozen at the door.

But then Connor sucked in a sharp breath, closing his eyes as he leaned into Will’s touch, and Will was sure there must be something else going on.

“Hey,” he said quietly, rubbing Connor’s back, ducking his head to try and coax something more out of him, to try and find some sort of explanation on his face. “Talk to me.”

Connor shook his head, and when he opened his eyes again, he looked unbearably sad. Will felt a pang in his chest at that look, a look he’d caught fleeting glimpses of over the past few months, but had never really had the opportunity to ask about.

“What’s going on?” Will whispered, cupping Connor’s cheek as he trailed his thumb across his cheekbone.

It felt hypocritical to ask Connor to open up to him when he was keeping something so serious a secret himself, but he’d been so sure that if anyone would have been frozen still, too scared to leave the apartment, it would have been him, not Connor.

“I think I’m losing my mind,” Connor whispered, looking up at the ceiling.

“What?” Will asked with a frown, stepping in a little closer, something protective rising inside him, though he wasn’t sure why.

“I can’t tell what’s real,” he whispered, voice shaking. “What’s fact and what I’ve invented to- to cope. But I can’t go back there. I just can’t. I- I thought I was fine, but I can’t.”

“Okay,” Will said slowly, grip on Connor’s shoulder tightening. “You’re not making sense.”

Connor let out a humourless laugh, shaking his head. “Sorry. Sorry, I didn’t- I shouldn’t be doing this here.”

“Doing what?” Will frowned, the sense that something was very wrong growing.

“This,” Connor gestured loosely at himself, glancing away. “This- this breakdown, or whatever is happening right now.”

“Hey,” Will said softly. “You just lost your dad. I think you’re entitled to take a few days off to grieve.”

Connor hummed non-committally, not looking convinced, and Will couldn’t resist pulling him into a hug. It was like a dam broke the moment Connor was in Will’s arms, and suddenly he was crying, great heaving sobs as he clung to Will. He’d never seen Connor emotional like this, but then, he supposed, for all that they were there for each other, for all they shared, they still kept their emotions locked away, never willing to lose composure in front of anyone, not even each other, not really. It took a moment for the shock to wear off and for Will to hug Connor in earnest, cradling his head, rubbing his back gently as he cried. He wished he could do more than just stand there and wait it out, but he’d had no idea the level of pain Connor was feeling, what he was actually going through. In hindsight, that was stupid. He should have known Connor would take the loss of his father hard, despite their rocky relationship. But he’d seemed to hold it together, to want to keep working, to be, for the most part, as okay as could be expected. So Will hadn’t wanted to push. He’d simply silently been there, and that seemed to be enough. Until now.

Now, Connor was coming undone completely, and Will didn’t know what to do about it. His heart ached for the man in his arms, but he knew he couldn’t fix this. Still, with the thought of Tim Burke in the back of his mind, he figured a day off for both of them couldn’t hurt.

He lead Connor to the lounge once his sobs had died down to the odd hitch in his breath, and pulled him close against his chest, at a loss for words.

“Is it just your dad?” He eventually asked, “Or is there something else you’re not telling me?”

Connor stayed silent for a moment, erratic breaths slowly calming, but eventually he said, “I think Ava killed my dad.”

“Dr. Bekker?” Will asked, unable to keep the shock out of his voice.

“I know. It sounds ridiculous. But someone dosed him with insulin. Nina marked his death as suspicious. And Ava...there’s so much that’s gone on, and I’m not sure which parts I’m imagining and which parts actually happened, but she said...Yesterday, she said now that he was gone, we could be together, and I just…” He let out a shaky sigh, glancing up at Will before continuing. “She once said she would do anything for me. I keep looking at everything she’s done, everything that doesn’t add up, and I can’t help but wonder how far she would go.”

“But murder?” Will asked before he could think better of it.

“I know how it sounds,” Connor snapped, shifting like he was going to get up, but Will pulled him in tight.

“I’m not doubting you,” Will said quickly, giving Connor a small squeeze. “It’s just...a lot.”

“It’s insane,” Connor replied with a small, uncertain shrug. “But that look in her eye when I told her we would never be together...I can’t go back, Will. I just can’t. Even if it wasn’t her. Someone in that hospital purposely gave my father an overdose of insulin. I can’t work somewhere where my colleague killed my father. I just can’t.”

“So let’s leave,” Will said suddenly, sitting up a little straighter, forcing Connor to do the same.

“What?”

“Let’s get out of Chicago. Let’s go to- to Montana, or Arizona. Leave and never come back.”

Connor sat up with a frown, studying Will for a moment. “You’re serious.”

Will nodded in response, feeling an odd rush of excitement mixed with relief. He’d wanted to stay for Connor, couldn’t bear to leave Chicago when things had just started between them, when things finally felt good, felt right, but if Connor didn’t want to work at Med anymore, if he had nothing tying him to Chicago, then what was stopping them leaving together? Will wouldn’t have to be constantly looking over his shoulder, waiting for Burke to come and get him, and Connor wouldn’t have to return to the hospital that killed his father, never knowing which of his colleagues actually did it. It suddenly seemed like the perfect solution, only Connor was looking at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Look,” he said slowly, taking both of Connor’s hands in his. “I know we’ve only been seeing each other for a few months, and moving to another city, to another state together, is a huge step, one we likely shouldn’t be taking, but…” he trailed off with a small sigh, some of his assuredness leaving the longer he talked. “I want to be with you. I know that it’s you I want by my side. And it would be so much better if we weren’t constantly wondering, waiting for the other shoe to drop, wondering when—“ Will broke off abruptly, knowing he’d said too much, given too much of his own situation away when concern filled Connor’s eyes.

“Wondering when what?” Connor asked softly, giving Will’s hands a small squeeze.

Will swallowed, glancing away as he weighed his options. He knew if he told Connor about Burke, if he told him what was going on, then Connor would insist he relocate. But he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving and starting over again without Connor. He couldn’t bear the thought of being so isolated and alone. Just the thought had a panic rising in him to match the fear he felt at the thought of what Burke could do.

“Tim Burke’s out of prison,” Will said slowly, glancing up to gauge Connor’s reaction. His eyes narrowed in concern, brow furrowing even as he gave Will’s hands an encouraging squeeze. “Ingrid suggested I relocate, get the hell out of Chicago, but I can’t…” he lowered his gaze, scared of Connor’s reaction. “I can’t leave you.”

Connor was silent for long enough for doubt to pool in Will’s stomach, churning nauseatingly with everything else he was feeling, but eventually, Connor whispered, “Okay.”

Will looked up suddenly, heart skipping a beat as he searched Connor’s face for confirmation. “Really?”

“Yes,” Connor said with a soft laugh, lips quirking up in a smile, even though he still looked sad. “Why didn’t you tell me about Burke?”

“Didn’t wanna worry you,” Will said with a shrug, rubbing his thumb across Connor’s knuckles. “There’s no way I’m leaving you. Not when things are so good. But I couldn’t ask you to drop everything, leave your whole life behind, just for me.”

“I would, you know,” Connor said softly. “I will.”

Will couldn’t fight the smile tugging at his lips as an unexpected warmth filled him up. But it was dulled somewhat by the gravity of what Connor told him, of his suspicions about Ava.

“How long has this thing with Ava been going on?”

“It’s not like that,” Connor said quickly. “We’re not- I’m not- I mean, we did, ages ago, but—“

“No,” Will cut him off quickly. “I’m not asking out of jealousy, I’m...why didn’t you tell me? What’s she been doing?”

“Oh.” Connor frowned, clearly surprised Will was only concerned and not upset or angry. “I guess...I didn’t want to worry you.” He shrugged, offering a sheepish smile. “I was never sure about any of it. I’m still not.”

“I’m here for you,” Will insisted, cupping Connor’s face with both his hands. “No matter what, I’ve got your back.”

“Thank you,” Connor whispered, hands settling on Will’s shoulders.

Will felt a swell of emotion as their lips met, a feeling he couldn’t quite place, something he’d never felt before. His heart felt full, and it felt like something was finally clicking into place, like an empty part of him he hadn’t even been aware of was now filled, and he finally knew what it meant to be whole.

For the first time he could remember, Will didn’t feel embarrassed as hot tears slipped down his cheeks. He only felt joy, and comfort, and the absolute certainty that, no matter what, Connor had his back too.

#rhodestead #chicago med #one chicago #connor rhodes #will halstead #connor x will #will x connor #fanfiction #prompts #my writing #Anonymous

22 notes · View notes

evieducasse · 6 years

Text

DATE: Sunday, May 12 through Monday, May 13 SETTING: Spring Fling & in the Woods just Outside of Town NOTES: This is long (3,000+ words) and horrible. But pls love me.

Boom. The sound of the first explosion going off caused every hair on Evie's body to stand on edge, her body falling to the ground as she hovered over her ten month old son, heart pounding and eyes darting around as she tried to find Ryan amidst the beginning of the chaos. "Shh, it's okay honey." She soothed softly, rubbing his back gently as she continued searching for Ryan. But as a second explosion echoed throughout the town, this one seemingly closer than the one before, she couldn't wait any more. She had no idea what was going on and sitting in the middle of town square, both her and Mason were sitting ducks, so she rose up and as she was getting ready to scoop her son up into her arms, everything went black.

"Mason!" She cried, fighting against the strong arms around her, unable to see anything due to the black hood that was placed over her head. She could hear Mason's cries as they grew further and further away; whoever was holding her was stronger than she was, as no matter how hard she fought against them, she couldn't seem to break away. "Mason!" She cried out again, exerting all of her strength and energy fighting back, her limbs flailing as a deep growl left her lips. "Let me go!" She screamed, her words being drowned out by the chaos around her. It was then that she was finally released from the tight hold her captor had on her, only to be tossed into what she could only assume was the trunk of a car, the loud slam of something shutting her into the small, confined space.

With her hart pounding and adrenaline coursing through her system, Evie sat quietly in the dark for a moment, the sound of the car's running engine filling her ears. She'd never been in a situation like this before, snatched away from her son during a time where he needed her. She was angry, terrified, and worried. If she'd been snatched like this she could only imagine what had happened to Mason, the thought causing a surge of panic and rage to course through her small frame. "Let me out!" She screamed as she began to kick against the top of the trunk, a new ferocity in her while Mason was at the forefront of her mind. Her screaming, while shrill and angry, came from the very bottom of her stomach. All of the scenarios flashing across her mind were the opposite of good and with no happy ending in sight, she didn't care what happened to her as long as they didn't hurt Mason. As long as her son was okay.

As the car came to a stop, Evie fell silent and still. She could only hear two sounds: the footsteps outside of the car growing closer and the sound of her rapidly beating heart in her ears. Her breath hitched in her throat as the trunk opened and two strong hands gripped her body and pulled her from the trunk. With the hood still over her head, Evie stayed quiet and still for a few moments, listening, trying to figure out where she was and trying to both sniff out and listen for her son. However, as she was shuffled from one spot to another a different familiar scent caught her off guard and caused her heart to stop. No. It couldn't be. There's absolutely no way that the person who the scent belonged to could be standing there. He was locked away in a guest house on the Greyson property, awaiting his punishment: dismemberment.

"I swear if you hurt one hair on his head I will kill you." Evie growled as her feet hit the earth, the sound of twigs snapping beneath her weight. She steadied her stance, ready to fight as soon as her hands were freed. However, as she was formulating a plan in her head to get out of this situation and away from her unknown captor and back to her son, the hood was removed from over her head and who she saw standing in front of her caused her blood to run cold. No. Her nose hadn't deceived her, Dominik Greyson was standing in front of her, a smirk on his face. "Let me go." She said, voice low as her eyes flashed bright blue, the wolf inside threatening to come out. Her anger was overpowering the fear that was spreading through her. The last time she saw Dominik Greyson he'd had a wicked grin on his features as she'd gone into labor, still refusing to let her leave the room. "Oh, come on Evelyn." His voice was smooth as he moved closer to her, hands reaching behind her to unbind her arms as he spoke into her ear, her jaw clenching at his proximity. "That's no way to greet your best friend after all this time." As soon as her hands were freed they were around the original werewolf's neck, the much younger wolf springing forward and knocking her former best friend on his back as she cut off his air supply. She might not be able to kill him but she was going to do what ever it took to find out where her son was and what he'd done to him. "Where is he?" She growled, staring down at him. "Who?" The man beneath her choked out, unable to speak or breathe beneath the young wolf's tightening grip on his esophagus. "Who?!" She repeated back to him, voice rising as her grip tightened. "You know who, you bastard! My son! Mason! Where is he?! If you harm one hair on his head so help me god you'll be begging for the punishment the council has planned for you."

If Evie had been in any other state of mind, the look of confusion and surprise that flashed across Nik's face would have caused her to pause and rethink, but the adrenaline coursing through her and the concern for her son overshadowed any reasoning from her brain. She needed to get Mason back, she needed to know if he was okay and she needed those things now. After a moment of silence with the former friends simply staring at each other and a few low growls leaving Evie's lips, her grip remaining just as tight around Nik's neck, Evie found herself on her back as the original easily overpowered his blonde protege, pinning her hands above her head in a position that left her all too vulnerable for her liking. "Evie." He said lowly, taking a moment to catch his breath before speaking again, "We have a lot to talk about. But you need to understand that I have no idea who you're talking about." His eyes never left hers as he spoke, his grip remaining tight on her wrists. "Now, I'm going to let you go but you have to stay calm. I'll explain everything-" He was speaking slowly, too slowly for Evie, who's anger was the only emotion she could fully process in that moment. "Shut the fuck up!" She yelled, cutting him off and lunging forward, headbutting him hard enough to cause his head to snap back. "You're going to stop playing whatever fucking game you think you're playing and you're going to take me to my son. Now." Her eyes were narrowed as she glared up at him, struggling to get free from his grasp. "Evie!" She could see the frustration in his eyes as his grip tightened on her wrists as she struggled against him, "Will you stop!" He growled out, the amber flash of his eyes causing fear to paralyze the blonde for a moment. "Please." His voice was more calm this time, soft event, so much so that Evie's body relaxed beneath him. She wasn't sure why or how, but something about the look in his eyes caused an inkling of trust to form within her.

"Fine." She said, her face still stoic and hard. "But if anything happens to Mason, you're going to be dealing with me." She said, moving out from beneath him once he finally released her wrists and stood, offering her a hand to help her off of the ground. "Don't touch me." She slapped his hand away and stood on her own. "What do you want?!" She snapped, "Give me one good reason that I shouldn't knock you the fuck out and drag you back to your family so you can finally get the punishment you deserve." Her voice was low as her hands stayed clenched by her side. "One?" He asked as he leaned back against a tree, arms crossed over his chest as his cool eyes bore into hers. "Why not give me a challenge, Ducasse." His arrogance in that moment astounded her and it took every ounce of her self control not to lunge at him again. "Nik..." She warned. Every hellacious thing he'd put her through the last two years was flashing through her mind. He had one chance, one, to explain what he wanted from her and how he'd gotten free from the confines of Issy's spell. She still had her phone in her back pocket and she was already formulating a plan to get her location to Nathaniel and Sophia. "Alright, alright." He began, rubbing his hands together as he looked at her. "The reason I don't know who this Mason is is because the person you've been dealing with the past two years... that wasn't me." He paused, gauging her reaction before continuing on when all he was met with was an eye roll. He told her of the night he was overpowered and taken, kidnapped by the Clave in his drunken state as he made his way home to her and Sam. He weaved a tale so treacherous that Evie couldn't hold his gaze for the entirety of it, shame seeping into her pores as he continued with a story so horrible it made everything that she'd gone through in the last two years seem like a holiday. "And that's how I'm here." He finished, falling silent after explaining how he'd finally overpowered his captors and fled to Hollow Grove, finding her during the explosions and taking her not out of malice, but out of concern. "I'm sorry, Ev, but I had to do what I had to do to keep you safe."

Once he finished speaking, Evie's eyes were wide as she stared at him. She was processing the information slowly, brows furrowed as she tried to make sense of the story. If what he was saying was true, the Nik who kidnapped Max, killed Sam, left her in Hollow Grove and then kidnapped her while they were in New York and held her captive while she was pregnant. If he was telling the truth then the man standing in front of her was someone she hadn't seen in two years. But she couldn't be sure. She'd apparently been fooled before and she wasn't about to be made a fool for a second time. "Prove it." She said, her own arms coming up and crossing over her chest. "Prove you are who you say you are and not the man who put me and my son through hell." There was something different and familiar in his eyes, but she needed solid, concrete proof. "That's easy," He replied, pushing his body off of the tree trunk and moving to stand beside her. Evie tensed up at the proximity. While the news of Nik's punishment had her conflicted, the blonde knowing his actions (or the actions of the person pretending to be him) warranted the punishment he'd been given, but also knowing the man who'd saved her life. The man who would have never put anyone through the things that had happened the past two years. She was giving him this one chance, one chance to prove that she wasn't being fooled again. She so desperately wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that he hadn't been the cause of all of the pain and strife the last two years. "I can do that." He said, genuine smile coming to his features. "Let me tell you a little story about my favorite little wolf and her famous huckleberry pies." As soon as the words left his lips Evie knew the story he was going to tell and she had to fight back a smile of her own at the memory. "It was the eve of your first full moon, the day I gave you the bite. Do you remember?" He asked her, eyes shining with nostalgia as he continued on. "You were so stressed out. You'd gotten into a fight with Walker the night before. A bad one. When I came by your house that day you had a shiner a dark as the huckleberries in the filling you were making. There were already four pies sitting on the counter and you had flour all over your clothes and in your hair. I had to literally pry the rolling pin out of your hands. You broke down when I did. You were so afraid of leaving the life you'd known for so long, so terrified that you were making the wrong decision. But do you remember what I told you?" Moving around so he was standing in front of her, Nik placed his hands on each of her shoulders and held her gaze as he spoke. "I told you you were stronger than you knew and that you were meant for so much more in this world than to be an unappreciated and battered housewife. That the world had so much to offer you, but you had to do the one foreign thing to you. You had to put yourself first because you deserved it." As he spoke the words, Evie was transported back to that day, the memory causing tears to spring to her bright blue eyes as it all dawned on it. Dominik Greyson really was standing there in front of her. No one else had been present in the house that day. No one else knew the exact words he'd spoken to her. "It really is you." She whispered softly, voice breaking at the end as she lunged forward, this time enveloping her oldest friend in a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, tears freely flowing down her cheeks as she buried her face in the crook of the original's neck. The blonde was flooded with the feeling of relief. He truly was the man she believed him to be and he hadn't done all of the horrible things he'd been accused of. "I know." He said softly, his arms holding her close as he rubbed her back. Pulling back from the embrace, Evie's hands found his face as she cupped it between her palms. "We have to let everyone know." She said, thumbs brushing across his cheekbones. "We will." He said, hands rested on her waist, "But it's not safe yet and you, blondie, have to tell me who this son you keep talking about is." His brow was quirked up as he looked at her and her eyes broke away from his gaze as they cast down. Telling him about Mason would involve telling him about the death of Sam and her kidnapping. Things she knew would not only hurt but anger the original in front of her. "That... well, that's a long story." She sighed. "I've got time." He replied with a smile, lowering himself down onto the ground and patting the spot next to him. "Fill me in."

Lowering herself down into the spot next to him, crossing her legs and leaning back on her hands, Evie's mind was racing. Not only did she have Nik, the real Nik, the good man she knew him to be, back in her life, but she also had the unpleasant task of filling him in on a few key events that he'd missed. "Well... it's kind of a long story, honey. So settle in, darlin', you're in for a long ride." And with that she began the tale of how the nomad pack settled into Hollow Grove. Their beginning being shaky, Samson's displeasure with their new hometown and attempts to put down roots, his more frequent trips out of town without them, then his complete disappearance and untimely death at the hands of Nik's imposter. She was getting choked up at the memory, she still missed Sam every day. The day she found out he'd died was the day a piece of her had been taken forever. But still she soldiered on through the story, how the imposter Nik abandoned her in town and her inability to stay once both of her pack members were gone. How she met back up with Wyatt by complete coincidence in Mexico and they'd begun a short but passionate relationship and how Mason, her now ten month old son, was the result. Pausing after her chapter about Wyatt came to a close, Evie had to shift her position on the ground, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them as her chin came down to rest on her knees. She began the next part of her story with a disclaimer. "This part is hard to talk about, I'm sorry." She breathed out gently, eyes meeting his as she told the story of how she met back up with who she thought was him- but it actually turned out to be his imposter. The man who charmed his way back into her life, easily playing upon her unyielding loyalty to him, and then kept her magically confined within the walls of a compound on the outskirts of New York City. She explained, as the sun began to rise, how he'd tried to convince her to join him and the Clave, and when she'd refused how the anger she'd seen was so foreign to her. "I should have known." She said, guilt bubbling up in her stomach. "I should have known it wasn't you." Sighing, Evie finished her story with how she'd brought Mason into the world a little over a month early, confined to a damp, dark room and terrified that her first and only offspring wouldn't survive the night. "And then a miracle happened," she explained, "In the form of a recovery mission that killed the witch fake you had kept by your side. Her death broke the spell keepin' me and Mase in that room and as soon as I realized we could leave, I did. I ran and I didn't look back. Dropping Mason off with his father before making my way back here. Back home." She said, the words sounding foreign coming out of her mouth. The only home she'd ever known prior to Hollow Grove was with him and Sam. They'd been her home for over twenty years.

"Home." He repeated, as if tasting the word for the first time. "You've grown quite fond of this little town then, haven't you?" He asked. "I have." She admitted with a nod. "I think you'd like it here." With a gentle smile, Evie moved so she was sitting next to him, arms wrapping around his torso as her head laid down on his shoulder. She was exhausted after the conversation, a yawn leaving her lips as her arms tightened around him. Knowing what she knew now, Evie wasn't sure if she'd ever let Nik out of her sight again. "Maybe." He replied, arm draping across her shoulders as he idly twirled a few strands of her hair around his finger, processing all of the news. "But one step at a time." Sighing, Nik pressed a chaste kiss into the top of her head before gently pushing the younger wolf away from him. "We've got to get back." He said, rising to his feet and holding his hands out to her. This time she took his hands and used them to rise to her feet as well. "I have some messes to clean up and a baby to meet." With a classic, ruggedly handsome smile, Nik began to make his way back towards the car. "C'mon, Ducasse. I'll even let you ride shotgun this time."

#self para #para #p: self #p: nik #p: mason #bc they're mentioned #event: springfling18 #y'all this took 5ever

8 notes · View notes

qredence · 6 years

Note

Hi hello here is another Drarry fam scenario for you: Harry and Draco taking the kids to meet the Dursleys. Pls I need to know how this would go!!

whoever you are, you’re an angel and i love you for sending me stuff like this.

this started out as just bulletpoints but somehow became an entire fic, oops .

In a perfect world, this would never come up. They could raise their girls and baby son without so much as a thought toward those wretched people who somehow both tainted and purified Harry’s childhood - in fact, once he’d married and moved away, he hardly thought about them anymore. Perhaps it’s because he’s actually happy, instead of living in a state of misery so constant that he hardly recognizes the melancholic limbo anymore - it just seems like life, in all its inevitable glory.

Unfortunately, the world is far from perfect. And truthfully, he’d never successfully fooled himself into thinking it was; but his face still manages to fall when the owl drops him a letter from an address burned into the back of his mind, as the stinging familiarity nearly causes him physical pain.

Draco had eyed him from across the table where they’d been having their breakfast. The children weren’t yet awake and the house was filled with the pleasant silence that, especially since Severus was born, had become quite a rare treasure.

“Why do you look like you’ve pricked your finger?” The older man asks, setting his mug down into the table while his face contorts with concern.

Harry debates telling the full truth. He knows how Draco feels about his last drop of blood on this earth, of course prior to the births of their children - but he can’t quite gauge how his husband will react to knowing they’ve reached out. The basis of his knowledge is that it will be bad, but how bad isn’t quite fathomable, yet.

Sighing, he figures he’s wasted enough time brooding. “Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon sent us a letter.”

Dead silence. Several emotions phase across Draco’s countenance over the course of a few seconds - shock, disgust, anger, and curiosity; in this exact order. Harry finds some amusement in his spouse’s expressiveness, which drains just a fraction of the tension the mere presence of the envelope brings.

“How did those filthy muggles find my house?” Asks the blonde, eyes narrowed nearly to slits, “And why did they assume they have some sort of privilege to speak to you? Throw it in the fireplace.”

“Draco, no,” Harry rolls his eyes, stirring the last corner of his tea absentmindedly, “they may be rotten, but they’re still my family. I should at least see what they’ve got to say.”

A thousand ways to ask why are ready at Draco’s tongue like ammunition, but he only leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Alright, fine, whatever. If they had the gall to write something snarky, I’ll go all the way to their pathetic little house and hex them all. Especially the son.”

With that, the Healer’s tall and elegant form rises from his seat, gathering both their empty mugs to place in the sink for later cleaning. Harry mumbles his gratitude for his husband’s taking his mug for him, but the most of his focus has now centered on prying open the thick envelope.

It only takes a few moments, the letter itself unfolding near instantly upon its removal from the paper pouch.

Silence comes again, and Draco stands at the sink, facing away from Harry but listening carefully for any groans or grunts of discomfort. When nothing follows after a few minutes, the gray-eyed of the two turns and lets his impatience best him. “Well? What does it say?”

“Quite curious for someone who said to throw it in the fireplace,” teases Harry, all while Draco nears him and places his hands on his shoulders, leaning over his chair to see the parchment.

“Shut up, Potter,” orders the blonde, though his arms are sure to wrap dotingly around his husband’s shoulders. The Auror leans back into him before starting to explain.

“They want us to visit.”

Harry can almost feel the Healer’s eyes widen, especially once his voice comes in a scoff.

“My children? Setting foot in that rat’s nest of a house? I didn’t realize the Deadbeats had taken up comedy now.”

“Dursleys,” corrects Harry, though he knows Draco is already aware, “and they seem serious. They want to meet the girls - it seems they don’t know about Severus, yet.” To his own surprise, Harry manages to feel a little guilty for keeping his only family in the dark about his life. The only reason they knew of the girls was because years ago, Dudley had happened to run into Harry on the London streets, when Alba was no older than a few months and Lucy had just turned four. Looking back, he thanks God that Draco hadn’t been with him because that pleasant little exchange would have gone far worse, considering the Healer’s defensiveness over his husband.

Which, really, is very cute.

Harry thinks maybe it’s tied to Draco’s remorse for treating him less than cordially for most of their school lives, but he’s never actually asked about it - it’s an unspoken thing between them, for the most part. Harry is just as protective.

“They don’t need to know anything about us,” Draco says coldly, in contrast to the warmth with which he still embraces Harry from behind, “I was living my life just fine before they’d decided to butt their crusty little noses into my business.”

“Come now, Draco,” Harry starts, sighing a little. The addressed releases him, then, sitting on the edge of the table to face him.

“You actually want to meet with them?”

“No,” Harry answers truthfully, adjusting his glasses, “But, I feel like we should. It’s just one meeting … they really haven’t seen the kids at all, and Lucy’s six, now. They’re still family, Draco. If something goes awry, we can always leave.”

Plump lips are pursed for quite a while, until the blonde opens his mouth to speak - but is cut off by loud cries from upstairs, which signify that the youngest of their offspring has woken up.

Both of them stand, heading to the staircase almost immediately.

“Alright, Potter … but don’t think I’ll hesitate to hex them if I see it necessary.”

The baby pink ribbons tie neatly into the sea of dark hair, which Draco had managed to tame into two plaits, draping delicately over the girl’s tiny shoulders. His hand raises to smooth some of her fringe away from her eyes, which look just like his, albeit bigger and far more innocent, and he smiles as she tries to stretch up to see herself in the mirror.

“You look beautiful, love, no need to fret.”

A small giggle comes from her sweet throat, which only ever seemed to speak words of love and purity. He cups her face, leaning down to kiss her forehead before getting to his feet to check on the eldest, who insists now on dressing herself.

Upon entering her bedroom, he sees she’s chosen a light blue dress, and mostly has the mechanics of her ensemble figured out. He smiles dearly at this - but upon noticing the worry etched into her face, he frowns.

“Lucy, dear, what’s wrong?”

The child looks up almost instantly, rubbing at her eyes out of habit before shrugging her shoulders. “I’m scared …”

“Why are you scared?” Asks Draco, sitting on the edge of the bed where she faces away from him.

“Because …” he watches her struggle to find the words, forgetting for a moment that a child’s mind works a lot differently than an adult’s, “Papa said these people were mean to him, Daddy. I remember we met his cousin Dudley a long time ago, and Papa said he didn’t like him very much because he was mean. What if they’re mean to us? Or what if they’re still mean to him?

“They won’t be,” assures the parent, scooting closer to the little girl, “it’s been a long time since Dudley has been mean to your Papa. He’s grown up, now, the both of them are - so he’s probably grown out of it. But even if he hasn’t, don’t worry. I won’t let them be mean to any of us.”

Lucy hesitates, running her delicate little fingers along the white ribbon in her hands. Once she seems to have thought about it enough, she turns and wraps her arms around her father, exhaling the last of her troubled sighs. “Okay, Daddy.”

Leaning down, he kisses the top of her head. “That’s right, angel, don’t worry about it. Now, do you want help putting that ribbon in your hair?”

The quaint little house where Harry had spent the first eleven years of his life seems not to have changed at all. He nearly gets chills walking up to the front door, but holds his composure - mostly because Severus has dozed off in his arms.

Draco takes acute notice of this and gently swats Harry’s hand away when he goes to move, reaching forward to ring the doorbell himself so that the resting baby could enjoy a few more moments of peace.

It barely takes thirty seconds for the tumblers to start turning and the threshold to eventually be opened - and there stands Petunia; age apparent on her characteristically vigilant features as she emerges from the amber glow inside the house. She seems to light up once she notices who’s there, but Harry can tell it’s not entirely genuine.

“Well, hello! Welcome back, Harry, it’s so nice to see you after all these years,” she chirps, moving aside to widen the space the family of five has to enter.

The quintet moves swiftly to beat the autumn chill, Draco ushering the girls in first, then allowing Harry and Severus to enter before he trails behind, eyeing Petunia warily.

She falters for a moment, but appears to brush it off. “Alright, alright - don’t you all look lovely? Especially these two princesses down here,” greets the woman, smiling too widely at the sisters. Alba giggles happily and shouts a grateful ‘thank you!’, while Lucy smiles politely and bows her head.

The staircase shakes, and Harry figures Vernon has caught unto the commotion, and is on his way to greet the guests. Similarly, Dudley and his wife appear from around the corner.

Green eyes dart toward Draco, who seems as though he’s straining himself to mute his distaste. Their eyes meet, and the Healer sighs through his nostrils, attempting to smile in light of Petunia’s compliment toward their daughters.

“Thank you, Mrs. Dursley. That’s kind of you to say.”

“Really, I mean it. They’re beautiful - and they look so much like the both of you.” She almost sounds confused as she says this, and Harry thinks to explain how, biologically, that is possible - but he enjoys her bemusement and figures to leave it a mystery.

It’s then, Petunia’s eyes fall onto little Severus, who still sits asleep in Harry’s arms.

“Ohhh, look at this one! Isn’t he adorable?”

Her squealing wakes the infant, and Harry rushes to pat himself down for the pacifier, knowing that the child is due to burst into tears any moment. Just as Severus opens his mouth to wail, Draco comes to the rescue, popping the semi-opaque piece of silicone into the threatening orifice.

“Ah, Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon,” Harry starts, noticing they’ve all gathered ‘round, “and Dudley, of course - this is my family. My husband Draco, and our three children; Lucy, Alba, and Severus.”

With the name ‘Severus’, Petunia appears to flinch. But she keeps her lips sealed on the matter, smiling as she offers her best homemaker’s greeting. Vernon, however, stares blankly at them prior to offering a dry nod. The most genuine reaction, surprisingly, is from Dudley.

“Well, isn’t this quite a family?” He remarks, stepping ahead of his parents, dragging his wife along with him. She smiles shyly at Harry, and even Draco, looking as though she’d rather be anywhere else in the world. “I’ll be damned, Cousin, you’ve really managed to do well for yourself. Your kids actually look pretty normal.”

Draco’s jaw clenches, and Harry subtly clasps an arm around him to remind him to behave. He’s only teasing, after all.

Still, Draco smiles in an annoyed way and lets his sharp tongue loose, albeit with mercy. “You ought not to swear in front of children so young, Dudley - you wouldn’t want to be a poor influence, now would you? Surely your mother taught you that?”

Petunia seems startled at the unexpected mention, and clears her throat. “Of course, it was just a slip of the tongue, wasn’t it dear? Now, I’ve made some hors d'œuvres for us to enjoy while we catch up. Dudley, if you and Emma will help me in the kitchen? The rest of you go on and get comfortable, we’ll be back!”

Getting ‘comfortable’ would be quite the task, but Harry would be a liar if he’d said he didn’t want to sit down. Vernon guides them over to the sitting area, where Lucy scrambles to sit next to Draco, and Alba seems to be the only one genuinely happy to be here. Of course, she’s just a happy child - perhaps Harry could learn something from her.

“So, boy,” starts Vernon, settling onto the couch facing toward the furnace, “two daughters and a son, eh? How old?”

Surprised by the pleasantness of that question, Harry doesn’t hesitate beyond a few seconds to answer. “Well, Lucy is oldest. Lucy, would you like to tell your granduncle how old you are?”

The little blonde is curled up against Draco, a worried look again present across her fragile countenance as she stammers. “I-I’m … six, Mr. Dursley.”

“Six, are you? Come now, Lucy, you don’t have to call me Mister - Uncle Vernon is fine. We’re … family, after all.”

Lucy purses her lips, looking away - and Vernon seems to be waiting for her to say something before he’s scared half to death by Alba’s sudden shouting.

“I’m two, Uncle Vernon!”

“Are you?” he laughs almost nervously as he recovers, the outgoing young girl nodding energetically as she swings her legs over the edge of the sofa. “That’s wonderful.”

Harry smiles at Alba, though gently encourages her to lower her voice. “There’s no need to shout, Love. We’re all right here, okay? Let’s use our inside voices.”

Draco manages a smile, too, mindlessly running his fingers through Lucy’s hair and remaining quiet, for the time being.

“And last but not least,” Harry prefaces, sitting the baby up on his lap, “This is Severus. He’s about half a year old, now.”

“Severus, huh?” Vernon rubs his stubbled chin, as the name tastes eerily familiar on his tongue.

“Yes,” Harry explains, noticing Petunia listening from the kitchen doorway out the corner of his eye, “he’s named after one of the greatest professors Hogwarts has ever known, whose sacrifice ultimately made his birth possible.” His eyes slowly meet their corners again, as Petunia’s shadow disappears.

“They’re all named for something or someone,” Draco finally chooses to speak, and Harry feels relieved that he won’t have to do all the talking. “Lucy for my father, and Alba for Dumbledore. You know who that is, don’t you, Mr. Dursley?”

It almost sounds threatening, the way Draco asks him. Vernon swallows tight in his throat and nods. “Yes, I do.”

At this point, Petunia and her helpers re-enter the scene with two trays of deviled eggs, which are set carefully on the glass coffee table. Dudley sits beside his father, and his wife, apparently named Emma, sits beside him. Petunia chooses the armchair closest to Harry, where Severus stares at her.

“So - Draco, yes? We’ve hardly heard anything about you. How did you and Harry meet?”

Draco eyes her as though she’d asked him for all the money to his name. Licking his lips, he obliges her with an answer. “School. We were in the same year at Hogwarts.”

“Oh, really? So you were friends?”

Before Draco can answer, Alba chimes in, “Daddy says that he and Papa didn’t play nice for a long, long time because Daddy had a big crush on him but he didn’t know what to do.”

Harry bursts into laughter, and so does Dudley, while Draco’s face reddens. “That’s a fairly abridged account, but technically, yes, that’s accurate.”

Petunia smiles. “Oh, I see. Forgive me for being so surprised, I was expecting Harry to end up with someone a little more … reserved.”

“Nah, cousin needs someone to whip him into shape. I like this chap he’s ended up with, looks like he keeps his back straight.”

Draco’s head tilts, eyes filled with anger and Harry deliberately cuts him off before he can start speaking, “Well, opposites attract, as they say. We’ve been married about eight years, now, so something’s working.”

“Yes, I must say, Harry - I’m pleasantly surprised that you’ve got such a lovely family. I hadn’t been expecting-”

“You weren’t expecting anything, were you?” Draco snaps, standing suddenly from where he’d been seated, startling Lucy. “You never expected anything from him. You kept him locked up in a damn closet and fed him the scraps off your plates until you felt 'generous’ enough to lend him a spare bedroom, only to lock him up there, too. And now you have the nerve to be surprised that he’s done well without you. I’m almost thankful you treated him the way you did, because surely your piss-poor behavior showed him how to be a decent person, and showed him how to never treat our children. You sit here and laugh at him and consciously insult him under your backhanded compliments - I’m sick of sitting here, listening to it. You want to know the story? I treated him a lot like you did when I first met him. But I realized that I was wrong, and made up for what I did - I’m still making up for it, honestly. But you - you haven’t learned anything, have you? You’re all pathetic, and I loathe that my children have to share a drop of your toxic blood. Goodnight.”

Draco gathers the children, including Severus, whom he plucks off Harry’s lap with little protest, and disapparates. The Dursleys sit in shock, stunned by Draco’s outburst, and Harry sighs, looking at them pitifully.

“Next time you want an update on my life, or are in the mood to pretend as if you care …” he grabs his jacket, throwing it over his shoulder, “just ask for pictures, okay?”

And with that, he follows Draco home.

#anon #answered #drarry #albapotter #mine:lit #otp: drarry #i'm cryin i love u so much faceless stranger

14 notes · View notes

kurokoros · 7 years

Text

Title: All These Flashing Lights

Pairing: NaLu

AU: are requests really open....NaLu for this prompt???? because it fits them so well??? idk??? “my friend thought you were cute so she tried to take a picture of you for snapchat and her flash went off but when you looked our way she shoved her phone into my hands and nOW YOU THINK IT’S ME AND OH GOD PLS DON’T BE MAD”

Word Count: 1930

Rating: T for langue and suggestive material towards the end

“He’s hot,” Cana repeats for what must be the sixth time in the span of five minutes, the brunette practically purring as she eyes the attractive man across the café. She’s blatantly staring and Lucy is fairly certain that if she keeps it up they’re either going to be noticed by the attractive man across the room or thrown out by Mira because is being a fucking creep.

Lucy just wanted to hang out with her friend on her one day off in the last two weeks, not freak the fuck out of some guy she doesn’t know because Cana has no idea how to behave in public.

She sighs, dropping her chin to rest against her palm and pretending to be thoroughly engrossed in her slushy. Strawberry lemonade has always been a favorite of hers and Cana is ruining the sanctity of frozen fruit beverages. Lucy casually glances at the man in question, eyes widening slightly in horror when she catches sight of his arm. “If you’re referring to the fact that his sleeve is on fire,” she says slowly, “than I’d be inclined to agree.”

The man pats out the small flame quickly, laughing as he turns back to his friend across the table, and Lucy takes a long moment to just look at him. Her head tilts to the side, eyes narrowing slightly in thought. He looks like some kind of punk-rock model, if she’s being honest with herself. The flash of silver piercings in his ear gains her rapt attention, and she has to bit her lower lip when she sees the hoop through the bottom right corner of his lip. His bright, bubble-gum pink hair is shocking, but not necessarily unpleasant. And Lucy is pretty sure cheekbones like that can only be carved from marble.

Yeah, the dude is freakishly hot, but Lucy has the decency not to weird about it.

“Oh, come on, Lucy!” Cana whines, shoving at her shoulder roughly and making Lucy nearly drop her slushy. “Look at that face! Those arms!” Too late, Cana, Lucy already is and she very much appreciates the way his tank-top leaves his arms bare and clings to his chest just right.

Fuck, now Lucy’s being creepy, too.

Lucy looks away before Cana or the attractive stranger can notice her obvious interest in the way his shirt stretches across his broad chest. “You know,” Lucy muses, pointing at Cana with the end of her straw before popping the tube into her mouth and sucking off the ice and juice clinging to the bottom. “You’re kind of being creepy.”

Cana is silent for exactly eight seconds, her eyes narrowed as she considers Lucy’s words.

“I’m going to take a picture of him.”

She wants to die. “And the creepy meter goes up,” she murmurs, mostly to herself considering Cana is clearly not listening to a word she says. Lucy really should have just stayed home today. She should have stayed home and curled up on her couch with her dog to watch shitty reruns of the Bachelor, or gone to the library, or maybe she should have gone to the aquarium! Lucy doesn’t even like fish, but they would be better than whatever this is.

Cana, again, simply ignores Lucy, instead digging in her purse to fish out her phone, fiddling with it for a moment. Lucy tries to ignore her, but a sick sense of dread fills her stomach and she’s pretty sure her day is going to get fucked in about three seconds. “I’m putting it on Snapchat,” Cana tells her, smirking.

“You have no sense of decency,” Lucy replies, wanting no part of any of this. She considers leaving or melting into a shambling mass of abstract shapes and disappearing into the floor, but knows that one of those options is impossible, much to her disappointment.

It’s her turn to pay the bill and Lucy would feel bad if she bailed.

Cana sends Lucy a feral grin. “Lucy, when I see a hot piece of ass—”

“I don’t want you to finish that sentence,” Lucy hisses, cutting her friend off. She glares, but Cana either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care as she finally opens the correct app. She turns and winks at Lucy, who glares.

Smirking, Cana wets her lips. “I’d let him bench-press me,” she tells Lucy suddenly, the blonde sputtering in surprise, nearly choking on her drink. Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy sees the hot stranger turn and look at them curiously, his eyes narrowed as he looks at the pair across the room.

What Lucy doesn’t notice is the way his eyes linger on her for a moment too long.

Once Lucy is finally able to breathe again, she glares across the booth at Cana, strongly considering leaping across the table and strangling her friend. She’s sure Gildarts wouldn’t mind too much. Besides, Mira would totally help her hide the body. “You see,” Lucy hisses, setting her drink down a little too hard, Cana ignoring her as she fiddles with her phone, trying to discreetly angle it towards the hot stranger. She’s failing, but Lucy figures that’s not her problem. “This is why I don’t go out in public with you.” Cana ignores her, grinning when she finally lines up the phone perfectly. “Cana if you take that picture I’ll—”

There’s a horrifically loud click, a bright flash of light, and then something is being shoved into Lucy hands as Cana leaps from the booth and starts hustling away, not bothering to look back and see Lucy’s stunned, horrified expression.

Lucy kind of feels like crying as she feels several pairs of eyes swivel around to look at her, a low whine spilling from her throat as she clutches Cana’s phone tightly, not daring to look down at the incriminating photo on the screen. “Oh, fuck,” she hisses, scrambling to delete the picture.

The screen goes blank a moment before someone slides into the seat across from her, Lucy bristling as her head snaps up, the blonde ready to bitch out her friend for being an asshole, only to freeze before the words can come out.

It’s not Cana.

It’s the hot stranger.

Yeah, Lucy is definitely, one-hundred-percent, without a doubt, majorly fucked.

Unsure what to do, Lucy just sits there with the incriminating phone in her hand, blatantly staring at the stupidly hot guy across from her and trying not to let her eyes wander to the tattoo curling around his shoulder or the teasing line of sweat running down the side of his neck. Briefly, she wonders if his skin tastes as good as he looks, then considers drowning herself in the kitchen sink when the thought registers, Lucy blushing deeply. “Hi,” she greets awkwardly, trying to smile at the stranger. “I’m Lucy.” She wants to die.

“Natsu,” he replies and Lucy about melts when he grins at her, deep, slanted green eyes crinkling at the edges. She hears a muffled encouragement come from his friend and Natsu’s smile turns into a cheeky, lopsided grin that shows off his canines perfectly.

That’s the panty-dropper right there.

Unsure what else to do, Lucy decides to clear up the mess Cana has inadvertently caused. “Okay,” she starts slowly, trying to smile back at him, but knowing it’s half-assed, “this is going to sound like a really shitty excuse, but I swear my friend was the one who took the picture and—”

“I know,” he cuts her off, still smiling. Amusement flickers in his eyes and Lucy finds herself relaxing slightly, her frazzled nerves calming when she realizes he isn’t angry or going to sue her for harassment or something.

“You know,” she repeats stupidly, absentmindedly twirling her straw in her cup, teeth pulling at her bottom lip. He follows the motion with his eyes, swallowing slightly. Lucy’s breath catches, but she tries not to think too hard about it.

Natsu laughs and his eyes crinkle again, Lucy smiling as well. “She wasn’t very subtle about it,” he tells her, leaning forward to rest his elbows against the table. He edges into Lucy’s personal space, but she doesn’t mind, head tilting curiously to one side as she looks at him, wondering why he came over if he knew what happened.

Laughing, Lucy shakes her head, a fond, slightly irked expression on her face. “She never is,” Lucy tells him, pulling a short, bark of a laugh from him that makes Lucy shiver all the way to her toes. “Again, sorry about that.”

He shrugs, dark eyes locking with hers, Lucy’s breath catching slightly. “I was planning on coming over here anyway,” he tells her slowly, gauging her reaction, something a bit nervous in his eyes as he watches her expression.

Lucy inhales sharply, stomach twisting pleasantly at the implication. However, instead of diving right into the new can of worms, she decides to tease a bit, wanting him to say it out loud. “Well,” she tells him, reaching for her slushy and taking another slow sip. Lucy pretends not to notice the way his eyes flick to her lips as the straw slips from her mouth. “You missed your chance. She’s probably halfway home by now.”

Natsu rolls his eyes, knowing she’s playing around. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you.” Lucy knows it, but his words still surprise her, her not expecting him to be so forward about it. Though, she supposes she isn’t being very subtle herself.

“Oh,” is all she says, leaning back in the booth and finally allowing her eyes to wander down passed his throat and to the shirt that seems just a tad too small for him, though the view is very appreciated.

He quirks a brow, smirking. “Is that a good ‘oh’ or a bad ‘oh?’ ” he asks her, head cocking to one side slightly.

“I guess we’ll find out,” she tells him, smirking at him from across the table. He laughs in response, and Lucy is pretty sure she’ll have to thank Cana later, much to her slight humiliation.

It’s later when Natsu is pressing her into her mattress, his lips trailing down her throat and deft hands wandering across her back, fingers tugging at the clasp of her bra, that Lucy gets an idea. She gasps, more so because of Natsu sucking roughly at her pulse point than her thoughts, and her nails dig into Natsu’s bare back. He’s just as toned as she was expecting and it sends a little thrill though her.

The thought pulses at the back of her mind, Lucy’s thighs squeezing around his hips as Natsu unlatches her bra. “Wait,” she murmurs, one hand leaving his back to grope at her nightstand, Lucy grasping her phone tightly when she finds it. “Natsu, wait,” she pants.

He pulls back slightly, still close enough for his hot breath to tickle her sensitive skin. “What?” he murmurs back. “What’s—” He freezes, finally noticing what Lucy is doing.

She chews her bottom lip nervously, her Snapchat opened. She can see their reflection in the picture, the sight of Natsu looming over her, eyes dark and his lips just a breath away from her skin, sending a shiver down her spine, Lucy arching into his chest slightly. “Can I—”

She cuts off when Natsu drags his teeth down the side of her neck, nipping at her skin and dragging a surprised gasp from Lucy.

The flash goes off, but neither of them seem to notice as Natsu rises to capture her mouth with his.

#fairy tail #nalu #cana alberona #ftdrabbles

366 notes · View notes

ijustyehethatlotto · 7 years

Text

All You Really Need ~Chanyeol x Reader~Drabble

Request: 43, 78, and 91 with Chanyeol??

Genre: angst/fluff

^gif from sehunsi^

43. I can’t do this....

78. I needed you to fight for me.

91. Go then! Leave! See if I care!

You were shocked, furious, and above all heartbroken. You hadn’t spoken a word to Chanyeol since the incident and you weren’t planning on doing so anytime soon. Sure, you were going through a rough patch in your relationship (a lot more arguments over the most trivial things), but you never expected it to get to the point of him remaining silent when someone outright called you a “gold-digging bitch” right in front of him.

So naturally, you told him to take you home that instant, and then preceded to ignore him. It’s not like he tried to strike up any conversation with you during the tension-filled car ride anyways. He just left you wallowing in the silence, which was his second mistake of the night because the silence allowed you to conclude that your relationship needed a break.

As soon as get home, you head straight for your shared bedroom, opening the closet and retrieving a suitcase. You begin packing random clothes in there, to angry to pay attention.

“You’re overreacting.” You hear his deep voice say from behind you.

You turn around swiftly, still holding to-be-packed clothes, and you narrow your eyes at his passive face.

“I thought you promised to protect me.” You state. You wanted to get a reaction from him. You wanted to see some hint of regret. You wanted, no, you needed to see that he still cared.

He scoffs, “Do I need to do everything for you? You’re usually so good at arguing with me. You can handle a few fans.”

"You know that I can handle a few fans.” You say, even more angered, “the problem was that you clearly didn’t care that I was being called names.”

He rolls his eyes at you, “Why are you being so annoying? So what if I didn’t say anything? I’m not required to speak up for you.”

You scoff. Yeah, and you weren’t required to stay up till 2 am waiting for him to come home, but you did because you loved him.

“I didn’t know you were this weak, y/n.” Chanyeol throws in. You narrow your eyes at him, even more offended.

“I am not weak.” You stated, glaring at him. “I just…”, you sighed, “I needed you to fight for me. I needed to see that you still cared.”

He looks at you, clearly annoyed, “Okay, so now you’re questioning our relationship?”

“Well you’re not giving me any reason not to.”

“So what next? You’re going to cheat on me with the first guy you see on the street?”

You scoff, “It’s not cheating if we’re not in a relationship anymore.”

His face contorts into confusion, then to regret, then back to fury. You’ve done it now.

“I can’t do this anymore…” you interrupt before he’s able to bite back. You turn back around to zip up your suitcase, no more energy left to gauge Chanyeol’s reaction.

“So you’re just going to end things?” you hear him ask quietly.

You knew that if you spoke another word, your tears would betray you, so without replying you pick up your suitcase and brush past him.

Before you make it out the door you hear him shout,

“Go then! Leave! See if I care!”

So you do.

(A/N: I was gonna end it here but I’m a sucker for happy endings. Sue me.)

It’s been 16 hours since you left (not that you’ve been counting) and you swear you haven’t stopped crying. You currently lay on your friend’s couch with a bucket of ice cream on your lap. Sure it was cliche, but ice cream did help you cope. Especially since the large amount of brain freezes you were getting distracted you momentarily from the thought of Chanyeol.

You hear the doorbell ring and you groan about how you hate people.

“Doorbell!” You call, trying to get your friend’s attention. No response.

“Hey! Someone’s at the door!” You shout. Still no response.

Groaning, you get up from your comfy spot and open the door...

Only to be greeted by Chanyeol staring straight back at you with a bashful smile, looking handsome as always, holding a bouquet of roses.

Immediately you shriek and slam the door closed. You couldn’t believe it. You wanted to fly into his arms at this point, but you remind yourself that you’re still mad at him.

“Y/N! Open the door please! We need to talk!” you hear him call from outside.

“Ah fuck, why do i look so shitty today?” You mumble before opening the door once again.

“What?” You ask. You feign an unimpressed face as you cross your arms and lean on the doorframe.

“I’m sorry.” He says. “I shouldn’t have let anyone call you names, and I shouldn’t gotten annoyed at you for being mad.”

“Then why did you?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“I was afraid that what that girl said was real and that you didn’t love me. That you only wanted my fame or something like that.” he sighs looking down.

“I was wrong though,” he quickly corrects meeting your eyes again, “I thought about all we’ve been through and all you’ve done for me. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

Looking closer, you can see his dark circles and the redness of his eyes. Clearly he hadn’t slept well last night.

He sighs again, “In the industry I’m in, there are often times when people try to get close to you for their own benefit, and it got to my head, so I started questioning you too, and I was wrong.”

You frown slightly, you never knew many details of his work but you wished he’d share his troubles with you if he was having a hard time.

“Will you take me back?” He asks you pleadingly, holding out the roses.

He looked so adorable that you couldn’t help but smile at him and say, “Yes Chanyeol, and I’m sorry that I even mentioned breaking up last night. Next time if you’re going through tough times at work, you can tell me yeah?”

He nods and pulls you into a hug. You sigh contently, loving the familiar warm feeling of being enveloped in his arms.

After you pull away, you accept the roses and snicker, “You could barely last a day without me.”

He laughs, “Neither could you,” and pulls you in for a sweet, sweet kiss that was all you really needed.

I rewrote this a couple times b/c angst is hard and it’s still gross but I hope you like it.

-Admin Sherry

(p.s. sOmeone request a baek drabble pLS I need to write about my bias)

#exo scenarios #exo drabble #chanyeol scenario #chanyeol scenarios #chanyeol #Park Chanyeol #chanyeol drabble #exo scenario #exo #exo k #admin sherry #drabble game #chanyeol reaction #exo reaction

154 notes · View notes