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beels-burger-babe · 3 years

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I Burn For You

***So THIS has been stuck in my head all day and I just- I love it. I love it so much. And it reminded me...So you guys all know how I hate/love Lucifer...it gave me those vibes. So........... Well I haven't written anything actually relevant to The Facade of the Suitor or anything else that I've been procrastinating, I have been able to push out this little short inspired by this beauty of a duet that is EVERYTHING to me. -B***

Summary: Since MC's arrival, Lucifer and them have never fully gotten along. There was always a large, unknown and undiscussed tension between them and they were fine to keep it that way. But when MC's security in the Devildom is threatened by both the angels and the nobility of the Devildom itself, everything changes. As a ruse to persuade the celestial realm, MC and Lucifer wed. After the ceremony, they finally talk about the unacknowledged feelings burning inside of both of them.

MC x Lucifer

The air hung heavy and thick like the gold bands that now decorated both of your fingers.

You and Lucifer stood on opposite sides of the room, your backs facing one another with nothing but silence between you.

You couldn't help but reminisce on how you got here, on your supposed 'honeymoon' married to none other but the prideful, arrogant, avatar of sin, Lucifer Morningstar himself.

Diavolo had burst into the House of Lamentation an entire month ago. He desperately explained how the angels had received word about you through the fond, innocent-intending, stories of Luke and we're demanding that you be 'released' from your 'imprisonment in the infernal Devildom and that they wished to cleanse you of the 'hellish corruption' the demons had 'forced upon you' through your pacts. Wanting to avoid yet another Celestial War, even on a small scale, the noble court had wanted to agree and simply hand you over to them, cut your pacts, and banish you from returning as an act of agreement and co-operation with the angels.

Obviously, this didn't sit well with you or any of the brothers.

You had all tried to come up with a number of plans, but they all promised retaliation from the angels.

Eventually, it was Lucifer himself who begrudgingly came up with the final plan. The angels wouldn't believe you if you simply told them that you liked it here and wanted to stay. They'd think you were charmed or manipulated. However, if the two of you worked together, and pretended to be in a relationship, convince the angels of your 'genuine' feelings and prove to them that you were in love, and finalize this by marrying Lucifer, it just might work.

First of all, love was something that had sparked war in the past, that both sides had learned from and had grown to deeply treasure and value. Secondly, Micheal, head Archangel of the Celestial Realm, trusted Lucifer the most of all the brothers. The two of you could take advantage of that use it to convince him that you were actually safer in the Devildom by Lucifer's side. And finally, if you were willingly bound by marriage, there was very little that the Celestial Realm could do to force you to leave.

The plan wasn't terrible, but there was one thing about it that caused you to clench your fists and grind your teeth: it was with Lucifer.

Lucifer who constantly teased you and pushed your buttons in a way that he knew would cause you to either give in to him or snap.

Lucifer who was cruel and sadistic and did nothing unless there was some personal gain or it was under the demand of his precious Diavolo.

Lucifer who never ever put anything before his own stupid pride.

Though you were normally a calm and positive person, there was just something about Lucifer that had always caused an inferno of anger and rebellion to burn within you. You felt this strong need to constantly prove him wrong and to defy him.

As a result, the two of you consistently butted heads, arguing about Lucifer's treatment of his brothers and your recklessness on an almost weekly basis.

The idea of being chained to this...this demon for the rest of your mortal life caused your stomach to twist tightly into knots. Though, if it ensured you'd be able to stay with the rest of your found family? You'd make the necessary sacrifice.

So the two of you did the whole show. You went on dates, smiled and laughed together as though you were the lead roles in a Hallmark Christmas movie, and played every card in the book to convince the angels that you were safe and happy under the kind watch of your lover.

Those weeks had started off painful, as you pushed back all feelings of disdain for the eldest brother to play the role of the perfect partner. But as time passed, you hadn't noticed that it had become easier and easier to stay by his side. The smiles you gave him were no longer forced, but sincere ones that brought joy. The lines between what was real and what was fake began to blur.

You sealed the deal with your wedding only a few hours ago.

The vows Lucifer had spoken...promising to watch and protect you even as your skin wrinkled and your hair grew grey. To hold your hand and aid you when you no longer had the strength. To shower you in love and devotion even in your final hours.

They had been spoken with such passion and raw emotion that you didn't dare think too deeply about. It had caused your breath to catch in your throat, and you had to remind yourself that this was all an act. Soon the curtain would close, and Lucifer would return to the cold-hearted monster that you knew.

Yet even now, hours after the ceremony had finished, you couldn't get that intense gaze, and the sparks that exploded under your fingertips as his hands gently squeezed yours, out of your head.

Lucifer sighed from the other side of the room and glanced over at you. "Are we just going to continue ignoring each other?"

You scoffed and turned your head further away; ignoring the loud pounding of your heart and instead focusing on the flickers of frustration licking up your gut. "What else are we supposed to do? There's no one else around. The act is over."

You whirled around at his sarcasm and could practically feel the wrath blazing behind your eyes. "Sorry, my Lord, if I'm not exactly giddy about the fact that I just signed myself to the likes of you just for the approval of some fluffy winged assholes!"

You could practically hear Lucifer roll his eyes as he walked over to the liquor cart and poured himself a drink. "Right. So you just plan to spend the entirety of the weekend that Micheal paid for us brooding in a corner? How mature of you."

Lucifer, the fucker, had the gull to act unphased and casually swirled his drink in his hand. "It could be much, much worse," he took a sip of the amber liquid before staring down in his glass. "It's not as though you didn't agree to this."

"Only because I didn't want to be kicked out of the Devildom and never allowed to see your brothers again!" You growled. Your anger only grew as you noticed him clench his fingers tighter around the glass. You groaned and ran a hand through your hair. "This was a stupid plan! You probably just invented this entire ruse as yet another way to get under my skin. Well congratulations, Lucifer. You win!"

You refused to look at him, as you turned your heated gaze out the window.

You didn't see the flash of hurt that washed over his expression, nor hear the way his breath caught in his throat. "Is being married to me truly that awful? Are you honestly telling me that you haven't enjoyed even a single second of this past month?"

You tensed and crossed your arms over your chest, as you continued to avoid looking at him. "What kind of question is that? You're a demon who cares about nothing but himself," you pursed your lips and mentally tried to deny just how wrong those words felt on your tongue.

"I wouldn't say that's true. Believe it or not, I do care for my brothers." There was a shaky breath, one so uncharacteristic for the confident Morningstar, before he continued. "And you. I did promise to love you until your final breath after all, and I do not break my promises."

There was silence once again. Though this quiet seemed to crackle with the anticipation for something, though neither of you quite knew what.

You closed your eyes, refusing to acknowledge the flutter in your heart at his words. "Those vows were only part of the act. They weren't real."

"Perhaps not for you," your eyes snapped open at the response. You looked back at the demon. Lucifer stood leaning against the wall, drink still in hand, as he stared intensely at the floor. "This may have all been an act for you, MC, but it stopped being a ruse for me mere hours after we began."

You felt yourself frown as you stared at him. Your traitor heart dared to grow warm with hope, only adding fuel to the growing frustration inside you. "You're lying. You're just trying to get me worked up again."

"Actually, I'm not," his eyes met yours and it felt as though time froze. His expression was so unguarded, so honest. For once, you looked into his eyes and you could see every emotion that he wore openly before you. You could see the hurt, the certainty, and most of all the same passionate love that shone so brightly in them throughout the ceremony. "From the moment I met you, you caused a fire to ignite in my heart. I was determined to control you and to make you be the human representative for Diavolo. But then, you acted against me, and that changed. I still wanted to make sure that you fulfilling your purpose in the exchange program, but I took on the challenge of finally having you respect and listen to me. You were stubborn and fierce, yet so beautifully driven and I admired that." your eyes widened at the admission. "It wasn't until I was forced to look at you in a romantic light for this scheme that I understood the true nature of these feelings. It wasn't that I wanted to control you, or break you, or shape you into what I needed. It was so much deeper, so much more dangerous than that. I wanted to have you fall in love for me, as I had fallen for you, and make you mine."

He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. "I know you don't feel the same. I've accepted that. But I...I'm done with acting like this isn't real for me. I refuse to pretend that there's nothing there between us any longer."

He finally broke eye contact, looking back at his now empty glass as you practically gaped at him. Love. Lucifer...loved you? You gulped and took a step towards him, "Lucifer..."

The fire burning within you consumed you as your face heated up. "You...You love me? You actually love me?"

You flinched as he glared sharply at you. "Don't rub it in."

You didn't know what to make of that. You weren't sure what to make of any of this. Your feelings towards Lucifer had changed over the past month, but you had assumed that was simply part of the act. But if everything he had done and said as you two were pretending to be a couple was real, then what did that mean for you?

What did that mean for the way the sight of him caused your heart to skip? Or the way his rare smiles never failed to make you smile back? Or the unwavering sense of comfort and security that he provided?

What did that mean for the ruthless, scalding fire that he had always caused to rage inside you? You always assumed it was anger, but what if...

You gasped in realization. "I burn for you."

The demon tensed as he blinked in confusion. "You...I'm sorry, you what?"

You moved closer to him, each step more certain than the last, as you shakily spoke the words that rang through you. "I burn for you, Lucifer. I don't know entirely what it means myself, but ever since we met you've caused this irrational passion and drive to sear inside of me. I-I had always assumed it was hatred. You're so infuriating. Every word you speak does nothing but cause that fire to flare brighter within in. Every action leaves me filled with sparks of restless energy that won't be satiated until I combust at you," as you now stood nearly toe to toe with him, you grabbed his hand and placed it over your roaring heart. Hope flickered like a candle in the darkness of his black eyes. "I had thought that this couldn't be anything other than anger and hatred. I refused to believe even the possibility that it could be anything else. But this past month you...you were honest and almost kind and vulnerable. Your teasing didn't make me want to punch you, but rather made me laugh. You showed me a side of you that I didn't even know existed. I...I think-"

You were cut off by a finger on your lips. Lucifer looked down at you with a stern, cold expression. The action paired with that face would've caused you to become infuriated by his audacity and superiority complex in the past. But now you could see past it, and could see it for what it truly was: a carefully crafted barrier that hid his most vulnerable feelings and protected him. "If you do not mean the words you were about to say, if you are pitying me, I must demand that you stop here. Do not say those words unless you truly mean them," his deep voice was tinged with distrust and caution.

You held his gaze as you kissed the pad of the finger against your lips and whispered gently, "Lucifer, I think that I love you."

Suddenly your lips were captured in his as he pulled you close and ever so adoringly cupped your face. For the first time since meeting him, the flames inside you were extinguished by the cold touch of his hands on your face and the surprising gentleness of his affection.

His hand slid from your face and came to rest on your shoulder as his eyes widened. His gaze scanned your expression for any traces of falsehood or insincerity. You could hear the breath leave his lungs as he found none.

He softly kissed his temple, effectively hiding his face as it grew redder and whispered, "Of course, beloved."

Lucifer laughed as he pulled away, his thumb caressing your cheek, as he smiled. "To think it only took us getting married to realize it," you laughed as you felt happy tears prick the corners of your eyes. Lucifer sighed in content as rested his forehead against yours. "Remind me to send a thank you to, Micheal."

You hummed and nuzzled closer to him as you rested your head on his shoulder. "Forget Micheal. He's still an asshole as far as I'm concerned. Instead, focus on me. On us. I want to learn everything about you, about the real you," you smiled as he looked down at you with flushed cheeks. "My husband, Lucifer Morningstar."

You couldn't help but wonder how you had been so oblivious to your true feelings as a shiver ran down your spine and warmth spread throughout your chest simultaneously.

This honest and pure love between the two of you, was new, yet it felt so familiar, and it was abundantly clear to both of you that the depth of those feelings would only become clearer and clearer in time as the fires of your love only grew.

***Gasp. I actually finished something. Would you look at that. Well, I hope you guys enjoyed this little fic! Thank you so much for your support during my hiatus and for being so understanding. I love you guys! Thanks again for reading!***

Taglist: @thegrimgrinningghost @henry-and-the-seven-lords @satans-beloved-riv @cosmixbun @sufzku @lovelymushi @victoireshaven @obey-mes-treasure @kissed-by-a-dementor @yukihaie @justtiarra @mammoneybb @obeys-world @poly-bi-mf @armycandy10 @burrixino

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

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best laid plans, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: It’s the middle of the night. You’re asleep next to your model boyfriend, Jeon Jungkook, who is jacking off while touching your tits. Wait. Hold on a second. What? (He is still your model boyfriend though, even after all that.)

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship; playful banter and shitty jokes; actually low-key crack and fluff; smut (fem reader, m-masturbation, handjob (while sucking on JK’s balls, lucky guy), tiny bit of nipple play and pussy slapping, edging, cowgirl, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS; the parenthesis are the reader’s inner thoughts and i did make a Dynamite lyric reference with JK’s dick and you can’t stop me

yes, the title is a pun, channeling my inner seokjinnie it’s what you think it is and it’s also not

–

Your dreams were always vivid and intense.

Was it normal to have movie-level, hyperdetailed, sometimes not even involving you or anyone you knew (at least consciously), insane storyline dreams on a constant basis (without medication causing them)? You know, maybe not. You should get that checked out. But not today, because this is not the story about that (you really should get that checked out).

This is the story about you dreaming about your boyfriend jacking off next to asleep you and then realizing it was not a dream.

At first you were like, man, that sure sounds like Jeon Jungkook breathing hard. Was he working out? Why are you having dreams about Jungkook working out? That's literally the most pointless, mundane dream you could ever have. Also, you weren't seeing anything, just blackness. What was the damn point of this dream you couldn't even look at him?

(To be honest, that’s very rude of you, brain.)

Jungkook always asked you to work out at home with him but, one, he was annoying as fuck to work out with because all he did was stare at you ("oh yeah, my bad for thinking you're sexy, holy shit, what a crime to think my girlfriend and future wife is hot!"); two, you literally had zero motivation to work out (not lazy, just, you know, didn't give a shit and Jungkook called that your great flaw of being his perfect girlfriend – but he loved all your soft bits so he was sending you mixed messages, tsk tsk); and finally, three, it always led up to fucking, so why go through all that trouble hyping yourself up in your leggings and sports bra, only to spend five minutes in them and forty-five doing a whole different kind of workout that didn't require clothes?

Exactly.

Just skip that shit and get to the naked part.

Oh, right, back to the whole deep-breathing Jungkook and you seeing darkness thing.

Sometimes you had dreams with only sound and very little visual. It was disorienting, giving you the feeling of being trapped in a maze with no way out (dream analysts would be all over that shit) and once the images returned, you were usually naked (psychologists would have a field day with that). But this time, you were unmoving. Listening to tense inhale, drawn-out exhale, over and over, and you only recognized it as Jungkook because he did that thing where he sucked on his teeth a little, making that almost inaudible hiss noise.

You felt heavy, tired, sluggish, as if you were dragging yourself through mud, in between the brink of conscious and subconscious, in that brief moment where you could control the dream but not your body, that little pocket of utopia. You searched for Jungkook in the darkness, curious to find him, and you couldn't, but he seemed to be beside you, to your right, where he usually was when you slept. Next to you, sometimes snoring so you'd have to smack him in the chest and he'd snort and stop (for a hot second, then you'd roll him to his side so at least he wouldn't be snoring in your ear). His pectoral muscles were bigger lately (you hated working out but you sure as hell didn't hate Jungkook working out) and the slapping sound was pretty satisfying now, palm to hard muscle.

Kind of like the sound right now.

Wait.

You weren't slapping Jungkook's pecs.

You furrowed your brows. Huh? Why were you hearing that soft smacking sound over and over, Jungkook's low hiss and then your name in a deep hazy whisper and why was your front cold? You usually slept with only panties, no bra, but you weren't usually cold up top – that's what the linen duvet was for (you paid way too much for that, but you saw it on Instagram and, hey, it's your money, go off) and, to be honest, you used to be a cute pajamas person but, ever since you started living with Jungkook, he wanted you to wear as much as he did when he slept (read: literally only his boxer briefs). Lots of begging (and him being on his knees for you) later, and now it was your habit to strip before sleeping.

Anyway, back to being cold.

You scrunched up your face and listened to the labored breathing in your right, a hand drifting on your stomach, tracing your bellybutton, moving up, light, delicate touches, the sound of skin on skin. A gentle fingertip brushed your nipple.

You cracked your eyes open.

There was a tiny bit of light from your computer, the RGB keyboard casting a faint rainbow. You shifted your eyes to your right.

Jungkook's left arm was in an awkward position, softly caressing your nipple as he violently pumped his dick.

On the bed.

Underwear gone.

On the floor? Probably.

He looked pretty damn hard. (Nice.)

Your eyes floated to his face and his eyes were closed, mouth open, trying not to make any noise, gasping your name. Shapely jaw, soft cheeks, dark lashes, ash blond hair framing his handsome features, so beautiful it was unreal. His head turned towards you and his dark brown eyes slowly opened, purring your name lovingly.

"Yeah, Jungkook?"

You saw the single blissful second it took for Jungkook's brain to catch up.

Then he choked.

On air and his dick by squeezing it far too hard in complete and utter shock.

"HOLY FUCK!"

He yanked his hand back, off your chest (feels bad man) and released his cock, causing it to bounce a little in the air (kind of sexy, not gonna lie), both of them shooting up to cover his rapidly reddening cheeks, one tattooed, one not, his inked right arm tense and his hand glistening with points of pre-cum.

You blinked innocently at him.

"Oh, shit, fuck, I'm so sorry, um, l–listen," he sputtered, dick still sticking straight up, completely oblivious to Jungkook's embarrassment (ignorance is bliss). "I... I have a good reason, I s-swear."

You rolled onto your side and squished your tits together. Jungkook's brain seemed to implode a little, staring at your squashed breasts and hard nipples like it was the first time (even though you knew he literally sees them at least once a day).

"You're horny?"

Your voice cracked a little from sleep and you coughed to clear your throat (not sexy, but such is life).

Jungkook's shaking pupils were too busy staring at your titties. "Y-Yeah, I just woke up randomly horny as fuck, but I know how much you hate having your sleep disturbed so I was just going to edge myself a little... well, maybe finish…"

"You masturbating while touching my tits is not going to disturb me?"

"I... I've done it before..."

???????

"Uh..."

"I don't touch you very much!" Jungkook blurted, grabbing your hands. "P-Please don't be mad! I only touch you a little and always very carefully! I never try to take advantage, I'm just horny, please, please, please don't be mad!"

He grabbed you by the shoulders and hugged you tightly. You grimaced, not because of the hug (Jungkook’s hugs were top tier), but because his hard dick jammed right into your thigh and smeared a giant line of pre-cum onto your skin (a little cold and not nearly as sexy as internet smut stories make it out to be, but maybe that was because you literally woke up to Jungkook jacking off without giving you so much as an invitation, rude). You gasped and retreated a little, but that made Jungkook try to grab you tighter and his cock bent upwards and jabbed you in the lower belly.

Still leaking everywhere, by the way.

"Oh shit–"

"Look here Excalibur, I'm not the stone waiting for the king," you winced, swiping your hand across your skin and wiping it on the side of his ass (hey, it's free real estate). Jungkook yelped, letting go of you.

"Hey!"

"If you're horny, let's fuck, not joust. I don't have the proper equipment for that and I'm not an undercover Lancelot, as dope as that would be."

"I should be turned off by now," Jungkook muttered under his breath (probably cursing your poorly timed King Arthur jokes – you did have a tendency to wear your mind on your sleeve). "But I'm not because, fuck, look at this body..."

His hands were already running all over your skin and, if there was one thing Jungkook had an extra zest for, it was fucking you – all the time, twenty-four seven, rest in peace responsibilities if you ever decided to become a nudist, but thankfully you had self-control (not when it came to terrible jokes at inappropriate times though, that was your vice). However, sleepy you had less self-control and let him do whatever he wanted, running his fingers all over your chest, making you shiver and slide closer to him, rubbing your thigh against his length and he sucked in a breath, whispering your name hotly against your cheek.

"S-Stop, I'm going to get horny..."

"You're already horny," you hummed into his chin, running your fingers through his blond hair, closing your eyes again, listening to his soft moan against your cheek (he always sounded so good, so fucking sexy, it was sinful), your left hand sliding down between you both. his palms pressed into your breasts, squeezing them roughly as you cupped your hand around his length and balls (Jungkook was really warm and your hands were kind of cold, this turned out to be a win-win situation, sweet). You wound your fingers around his length with two fingers hooked around his balls, bouncing them lightly as you rubbed his velvety skin, sighing against his neck.

"Pog."

"Do not Twitch chat talk to my dick," Jungkook muttered. "Also, what kind of weak-ass handjob is this, are you just warming your cold-as-fuck fingers–" (well, shit) "–oh, fuck!"

You gripped his cock with your left hand and buried your fingers in his hair, tongue between your lips as you roughly stroked his length, making Jungkook squirm and gasp above you, jerking back. You kept your hold on him, tighter, feeling him swell and get harder, grinning, your eyes still closed, working him fast and firm.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Jungkook swore repeatedly, pinching your nipples and rolling them between his fingers (damn, he was making you work to keep this smirk on your face, but it was worth), tendrils of pleasure snaking through you. You bit the side of your lip, increasing your pace, squeezing just under the head the way he liked, pre-cum pooling around the pocket of your index finger and thumb, adding lubrication.

"Stop, s-stop, I'm gonna e-explode," Jungkook moaned, planting his hands onto your tits and sinking his fingers in the softness once more (hello? where's the titty love, this ain't all about you, Jungkook).

"I like dynamite," was you answer, cracking one eye open. "Light it up."

Jungkook growled in his throat, glaring at you. "I swear to God, if you weren't so fucking hot, I'd be so fucking limp right no–aah, d-don't, oh fuuuck, please..."

You slid down the bed, switching hands, attaching your mouth to his balls (he was probably grateful for that, can't talk with a mouthful of nuts, sad) and put your breasts on his thigh, rubbing your nipples all over his hard muscle as you sucked, starting off slow, then faster and faster, one to the other, tongue all over, Jungkook loudly rambling nonsense above you (you weren't paying attention, you had a dick to jack off and some balls to rearrange with your masterful tongue) until Jungkook squealed at your firm grip on the head, cutting off his orgasm once again.

"Stop edging me," he hissed angrily above you.

You blew a raspberry on his nuts.

"A-ah, fuuuuuuuuck!"

Oh, that turned out to be more pleasurable than either you or Jungkook imagined, because his eyes were gigantic and his hips were furiously humping your hand, but you weren't holding him tight enough for him to cum. You raised your eyebrows at him and Jungkook gave you the most displeased expression he could muster (he looked cute as fuck, a complete fail), ash blond strands clinging to his forehead, nose scrunched up.

"That was for jacking off without me," you tutted.

"You would have gotten pissed if I woke you up to fuck," he pouted.

"I need beauty sleep to be beautiful."

"I hear facials actually help quite a lot."

You burst out laughing and Jungkook followed suit, his rich, full, almost wheezing laugh, until he realized you had swiped a condom from the nightstand (yup, they were casually in a little moon-shaped dish by the bed next to the chap stick and phone charger, says a lot about you two), fitted it on him, and then you sat on his dick.

"W-Wait – oooooooh, fuck!"

You waited a second for your body to adjust, forcefully stretched out by his thick girth, but it wasn't that bad when you were controlling your muscles and expecting it, so you started rocking your hips after the second, sighing in satisfaction. Jungkook's eyes rolled back into his head, his long fingers bunching up on his chest, raising his ass to get deeper with every slap of hips to hips, your body talking to his, heat rising through you, branching out your spine and to your limbs, the best kind of workout (your only workout, be honest here), clenching your core, making Jungkook snap his head back in panic, shaking his head furiously.

"I'm g-gonna cum if you keep going l-like that..."

You leaned down, brushing his hands away and spreading your fingers over his pecs, running your nails over his hard nipples. Jungkook whimpered, chewing on his lip, you turning the tempo from a fast one to a longer, slower, more complete stroke from head to base, soft ass smacking his soft balls. He looked up at you, moaning softly, pupils blown wide, rainbow shadows over his face (damn, he's pretty, eleven out of ten, for sure), gasping your name, his hands finding your forearms and caressing them, eyelashes fluttering.

"O-oh, fuck, p-please... faster... wanna cum... you're so fucking sexy... ah, fuck, wanna cum for you..."

No one could say no to that, especially not you.

You slid your arms down to the bed, right beside his head, and increased the force, intensifying it all, Jungkook's fingers flying up and holding onto your nipples, the sheer wildness of your own pace tugging and pulling on them, your breathing deepening, panting hard, wispy and hot, his name on your lips, pleasure all over, passionately fucking him into the bed, and him jutting his hips back into your soaked walls, throbbing against the tightness, so hot, fire coursing through you, your juices soaking his crotch and balls.

“Jungkook, oh, fuck, yes...”

You squeezed him hard and Jungkook thrust into you with a groan, all hardness and thickness violently burying itself into your overwhelming heat and you moaned lustfully, pussy shuddering around his wonderful cock, feeling it shiver repeatedly, his orgasm filling up the condom so much that you felt the latex stretch inside you, jarring jerks with each of Jungkook's soft cries, his head shoved into the pillows, blond hair fanning out like a halo and practically wearing out your name with how many times he was chanting it.

You reached and held down the condom as you unsheathed (the beast), collapsing against the bed and laying down, wheezing a little, greatly satisfied at your work.

"Boom."

You weakly reached up and mimed a firework with one hand.

"Like dynamite."

"Oh, my fucking God," Jungkook muttered, peeling off the condom and immediately snatching the towel next to the bed (also says a lot about you two) and another condom, yanking off the other one (trash can next to the bed already, again says – never mind, you get it) and cleaning himself off before putting on the new one. "On your back."

You rolled on your back, snickering. "Three parts dynamite, with a nitroglycerin cap–"

Jungkook clapped a hand on your mouth and it smelled a whole lot like his cum. "This is not the time to be quoting the Addams Family, you animal."

You nuzzled out of it, grinning. "I'm just saying I want an orgasm equivalent to blowing up a small house."

"Oh, you'll get it," Jungkook growled, yanking your hips to the center of the bed, pushing your legs up to your chest, almost bending you in half. "You ready?"

You bit your lip, still grinning. "Of course."

One hand left your leg and you were confused for a split second.

The next you were gasping, Jungkook rapidly smacking his hand into your clit and pussy, not hard, but constant, swift smacks that got you wetter and wetter, quivering and struggling for breath.

"J-Jungkook, oh f-fuck, Jungkook..." you whined, fingers digging into the sheets, twisting them, bouncing your hips towards him. He inhaled sharply, fitting his finger onto your clit and raising himself.

"W-wait – oh fuck!"

Jungkook chuckled and thrust into your wet warmth, rubbing your clit at the same time. Your body squirmed, trying to alleviate the sudden high rush of pleasure, but Jungkook was stronger (was this the reason he worked out? no complaints here), his free hand pressing your leg down into your chest, your other leg crammed against his shoulder, his hand snaking in between and stimulating your clit, not having to move because you were moaning helplessly, rutting against him repeatedly, pulsating all around him, so good, so good, throbs of desire against his callused fingertip, eyes rolling back. Hard cock, engorged clit worked into a frenzy, your own hips fucking him back so hard that Jungkook was moaning with you, your name tumbling out from those pink lips.

"Cum for me, fuck, you sound and look so sexy, come on, come on..."

You would have praise for him too if you could breathe, but you couldn't, pleasure so overwhelming that your eyes closed, getting there, getting so close, and Jungkook he kept going until you wailed his name, back arcing, your tits hitting your thighs, forearms taut and straining, lower body lurching towards him and leaking out slick juices all over his crotch and yours, so much so that his finger slipped and his nail nicked your clit, turning your moan into a howl of ecstasy.

"Oh, shit, are you ok–"

You grabbed his hips, ignoring whatever the fuck he was saying, and slammed him down into your pussy, making Jungkook lose his balance and put his hands on the bed, yelping, and you hissing in his face, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please, Jungkook, give me your cock, and Jungkook was saying something but your body gave no fucks, ears mysteriously broken at that specific moment, raising your hips to meet his as he sank down, Jungkook's face scrunching up and his pleas finally reaching your ears.

"H-Hold on, I want to last, stop, stop, stop..."

"Who cares about that, I need dick," was your very impatient response, but Jungkook grabbed your thighs and pinned you down, stopping you and him from moving, you whining and clenching around him.

"This is not p–"

Jungkook immediately fitted his hand over your mouth, narrowing his eyes at you. "No. Bad. Shush."

(How did he know you were going to say 'this is not poggers'?)

You wiggled your ass and Jungkook growled, pulling out and slamming back in, not fast, but powerful, cock getting harder and harder with your whines and cries behind his palm.

"This is what you need," he panted, deep and gravelly, one hand on the bed and one on your mouth, fucking you so hard that your ass was bouncing on the bed, creating a wet spot on the sheets with how drenched you were for Jungkook's lust-filled, husky voice. "Need me to fuck you silent, fuck, you're so tight and wet, come on, cum for me, cum for me, you sexy, sexy woman..."

Your body was already complying, pleasure wrapping all around, body so hot from the fire within, tongue pressed against his palm, moaning lewdly around his fingers as you came again, and he was so hard, fuck, Jungkook was so fucking hard right after he woke up, always, (a fucking mystery and eighth wonder of the world and your pussy was thoroughly investigating), so deep and so thick, your muscles clutching him tight, sucking him back in. His fingers separated a little, loosening his grip, and you heard your needy whimper mildly muffled by his digits.

"You're so good Jungkook, I love you, fuck, I love your cock, Jungkook..."

You looked up into his eyes, at his long hair hanging around his face, jaw clenched, smirking as he saw your gaze, biting the side of his lips in concentration.

"I love you too," he breathed. "You're the sexiest, most beautiful woman in the world."

You clamped around him and Jungkook groaned, eyelids fluttering, grunting as he forcefully thrust into you, your name mixed with a moan as he came again, fully sheathing himself in your quivering, abused heat, warm pulses soothing him and you all over. The sheets stuck to your ass, covered in your sweet-smelling cum.

(Good thing that was on his side of the bed.)

His hand glided up your face, pushing back your hair, shuddering as he rutted into your core a few more times, savoring your tightness.

"You alright, my dude?" you whispered nonchalantly, gasping slightly.

Jungkook cracked one eye open. "Yeah, I'm fucking fantastic, bro."

"Pog-"

Jungkook shoved two fingers into your mouth and you choked a little, pouting around his fingers (you weren't surprised though, you knew it was coming).

"I will whip this dick out and slap you in the face with it."

"That's kinda nasty, but also sounds kinda hot," you gargled around his fingers.

"... You're right. Damn, he's asleep. Shit."

Jungkook pulled his fingers out and wiped them on the towel, frowning as he glanced down.

"Only him and not us, something seems a little inverted here."

Jungkook chuckled and leaned down to kiss you (another reason why he was the perfect partner, still being affectionate, regardless of your loony antics).

"I love you."

in which you anger jjk by being annoying - wait, that’s every day well, he still wants to bang you counter point

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook smut

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padawanlost · 3 years

Note

Something I've noticed recently over the past few months is this trend where people have been diagnosing Anakin with narcissistic personality disorder instead of C-PTSD or BPD, the more commonly seen diagnoses. I personally disagree, but I wanted to hear your "two sense" on the matter if you will, you're one of the best meta-writers on this site.

It’s because people don’t like Anakin as presented on screen. They want Anakin to be as selfish and arrogant as possible so they can blame him from everything that happened. If it’s ALL about Anakin than everyone else can be left off the hook.

Anakin ‘I don’t want to be a problem’ Skywalker is clearly narcissistic. I mean, he fits all the signs:

Have a sense of entitlement and require constant, excessive admiration

“Ten years in this place, and still he was an object of interest. Of speculation. All their hopes and dreams hanging on him like decorations on a bantha skeleton at Boonta Eve. He hated it.” [Clone Wars: Wild space, Karen Miller]

Have an exaggerated sense of self-importance

“You would forgo your destiny for Padmé?” Anakin’s brows beetled in anger. “I never claimed to be the Chosen One. That was Qui-Gon. Even the Council doesn’t believe it anymore, so why should you?” [ James Luceno. Labyrinth of Evil]

Expect to be recognized as superior even without achievements that warrant it

Anakin bumped his hand against [Obi-wan]. “Wait. Just—wait.” Embarrassed, he took a deep breath. “Look. Don’t take this the wrong way. It’s just—it’s the mission, right? That’s what matters. So—” “Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s whisper sounded amused. “It’s fine. I was about to suggest it myself when the droids turned up.” “You were?” “Play to your strengths and minimize your weaknesses. That’s how a battle is won. That’s how we’ll win the war.” Anakin had to smile. I should’ve known he wouldn’t take it personally. “Yeah. So—once I’m up and over and nobody raises the alarm, give me a five-count then follow. I’ll give you the best Force boost I can. Not that you’ll need much. Your leap was only a meter and a half behind Master Windu’s. Remember?” Obi-Wan gave a breathy chuckle. “I remember I had nosebleeds for a week afterward. Don’t ever feel bad for being extraordinary, Anakin. Now off you go. We don’t have all night.” [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Take advantage of others to get what they want

“He thought of how unflinchingly loyal Anakin was to anyone he considered a friend.” [Matthew Stover’s Revenge of the Sith]

Exaggerate achievements and talents

He was the Chosen One, they told him. He was supposed to bring balance to the Force. Anakin thought that some little extra support might go with being the Chosen One, a helping hand or at least some understanding from the Jedi Council, but instead he was passed around like an unwelcome burden, ending up with Qui-Gon Jinn and then Kenobi because nobody else would have him. His chosen status meant less than nothing; it felt more like a stigma. And they wondered why he was difficult at times. Maybe they didn’t want balance, whatever that was. Maybe nobody liked a Jedi who was that different. He felt like an embarrassment to them. I do everything you ask of me. I try so hard. When is it going to be enough? When are you going to say, “Okay, Anakin Skywalker, you’re good enough”? Karen Traviss’s The Clone Wars

Be preoccupied with fantasies about success, power, brilliance, beauty or the perfect mate

Impatience. Concern. Relief. Loneliness. Weariness. And grief, not yet healed. Such a muddle of emotions. Such a weight on [Anakin]’s shoulders. Months of brutal battle had left [Ahsoka] drained and nearly numb, but it was worse for Anakin. He was a Jedi general with countless lives entrusted to his care, and every life damaged or lost he counted as a personal failure. For other people he found forgiveness; for himself there was none. For himself there was only anger at not meeting his own exacting standards. [Karen Miller’s Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Believe they are superior and can only associate with equally special people

It’s not just Skywalker’s rank that makes us give him one hundred percent. It’s because he treats us with respect, and he puts himself on the line with us.” [The Clone Wars by Karen Traviss]

Monopolize conversations and belittle or look down on people they perceive as inferior

Having worked their way around the village, finding nothing to wake their uneasily sleeping sense of alarm, Obi-Wan and Anakin returned to the beaten-dirt square and the charter house. Its doors were open now and a woman who had to be Teeba Brandeh stood on the broad step, hands on her narrow hips, watching the children scatter across the square to play a proper game of kickball. Grinning, without bothering to ask if he might, or if it were wise, or if they had the time to spare, so independent these days, Anakin jogged to join them. After a moment’s amazed hesitation the children welcomed him with squeals of delight, rough-and-tumbled him into their midst and made him one of their own. Obi-Wan shook his head. “He’s nice,” said the girl with the bracelet and the ragged hair, wandering over to stand beside him. “Don’t be cross with him, Teeb Yavid.” Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Siege

“Oh, no,” said Anakin, grinning. “It was fun too.” May the Force give me strength. “And that business with the boy? Because when I said no heavy lifting I—” Anakin’s amusement vanished. “He wasn’t heavy. These younglings are skin and bone. I look at them and—” He clenched his jaw. ”Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Siege

Expect special favors and unquestioning compliance with their expectations

[Anakin] did not like the fact that he had won. It seemed wrong that he had stepped so far out of line, and yet had been retained as a Padawan. He did not like the unease this victory, if victory it was, produced in him. Above all weaknesses, arrogance was the most costly. They keep me here because I have potential they’ve never seen before. They keep me in training because they’re curious to see what I can do. I feel like a rich man who never knows whether his friends are true-or whether they just want his money. This was a particularly galling thought, and certainly neither true nor fair. Why do they put up with me, then? Why do I keep testing them? [Greg Bear’s Rogue Planet]

Have an inability or unwillingness to recognize the needs and feelings of others

“I’m sorry. I’m not normally this stupid. I just—” And then she felt her face crumple and heard herself sob. Her knees buckled and she began to sink toward the floor. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she choked. “Don’t mind me. I’m fine.” [Anakin] caught her before she tumbled completely. Lifted her without effort and carried her to the sofa. Boneless and unprotesting, she let him. Let her face turn to his roughly shirted, dirty chest and howled her rage and shame against him. Dimly, she felt his hand warm and comforting on her back and heard his soft voice saying, over and over, “It’s all right. It’s all right. You’re safe now. It’s all right.” The crazy thing was that she did feel safe. For the first time since those Separatist blaster bolts seared the air and sand of Niriktavi Bay, since she saw her friends and colleagues slaughtered, she felt safe. Then, abruptly, she felt mortified. What was she doing? Weeping like a child all over a man young enough to be her son? Where was her pride? She shifted away from him, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry.” “Don’t apologize,” he said gently. “You’ve got a right to be upset. Now, where’s that medkit?”Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth

Be envious of others and believe others envy them

The Jedi Council didn’t want me, either. Being the Chosen One didn’t count for anything. Master Yoda wouldn’t train me, or Windu. Every member of the Jedi Council had had something more pressing to do than help him work out what this terrible, galaxy-changing power of his meant, and how he should live in its shadow. He still wasn’t sure. Anakin recalled standing there in that grand, polished Jedi Council Chamber, surrounded by what felt like fear, and disdain, and bewilderment—who were those Masters to feel bewildered, that the only person there who cared if he lived or died was Master Qui-Gon Jinn. [Karen Traviss. The Clone Wars]

[Anakin] had worried that Obi-Wan did not have room for him in his heart. But Shmi’s smile rose in Anakin’s mind. Hearts have infinite room, my son. JUDE WATSON’S THE TRAIL OF THE JEDI

Behave in an arrogant or haughty manner, coming across as conceited, boastful and pretentious

The fear and dread in her face eased, just a little. “You’re a very sweet young man, Anakin Skywalker.” [Karen Miller’s Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

[Anakin] humbles me, sometimes. He makes me feel small. He can’t see a broken thing without wanting to fix it. [Karen Miller’s Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

“I don’t know,” she said, floundering. “I can’t say I’ve ever given the Jedi much thought. I mean, not as individuals. I never expected to meet one—let alone two. I don’t tend to go places where your skills are needed. But—well—you’re gentle.” [Karen Miller’s Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Insist on having the best of everything — for instance, the best car or office

“I’m not giving him to you,” [Anakin]’d told her. “He’s not even really mine to give; when I built him, I was a slave, and everything I did belonged to Watto. Cliegg Lars bought him along with my mother; Owen gave him back to me, but I’m a Jedi. I have renounced possessions. I guess that means he’s free now. What I’m really doing is asking you to look after him for me.” “Look after him?” “Yes. Maybe even give him a job. He’s a little fussy,” he’d admitted, “and maybe I shouldn’t have given him quite so much self-consciousness—he’s a worrier—but he’s very smart, and he might be a real help to a big-time diplomat … like, say, a Senator from Naboo?”Matthew Stover. Revenge of the Sith

#ask #anon #sw meta #meta: anakin #meta: fandom #txt

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imonthinice · 3 years

Text

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 6/?

Word Count: 2.6-2.7k idk exact

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your name, A/N - Any name (your best friend’s name)

MUSIC IS INCLUDED THIS TIME! Please enjoy my personal music playlist, or at least a snippet of it.

TO THE PERSON WHO REBLOGGED AND SAID THIS WAS CUTE (at least the first part) you straight up made me cry omfg

Warnings: Swearing, gets really fucking heated at the end (no sex, yet), no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Outfit Context:

Y/N:

Jason:

(Cause I finally found an outfit I liked on the boy, men’s fashion isn’t my strong suit,,, heh :) )

“Sorry, is my mouth hung open?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. Very much so,” she mocked.

Jason closed his mouth and outstretched his hand for Y/N’s, cupping it with both hands and kissing the top of it.

“You just look so lovely, Y/N.”

“And you’re chivalrous, Jay. Now, should we get going?” she asked, putting her free hand on top of his two.

“Yes, let’s go,” he let one of his hands go of hers and lead her to the Porsche he brought with him, not intertwining his fingers with hers.

He opened the passenger’s side door and let Y/N get in, not letting go of her hand til the last moment he could hold it. He got in an turned on the radio,

It felt like a good night, for dancing in the moonlight,

In empty streets, well, everybody's got a reason why,

If we could only just get it right,

Maybe it will all work out like in the movies,

But I know Romeo must die before the ending,

With a final poison kiss delivered gently,

Because you don't get lucky twice, and that's the truth,

“Sing to me sweet just like my memory,

If New York City Still moves me then I’ve found something real,

I’ll be okay, I could go on for days,

But I just don’t have the courage that it takes to be real,

And even if it’s dark at least we’ll be together,

Slowly sinking in the Earth to lay forever,

You better grab a hold and hold on for your life,

Because you don’t get lucky twice,

No, you don’t get lucky twice,” She sung with the tune.

Without the Bitter the Sweet Isn’t as Sweet - Mayday Parade

“You, you have the voice of an angel,” he said.

“It’s not that hard to mimic works of art with my voice.”

“Did you ever take singing lessons?”

“I did when I was younger, so I could sing French lullabies to my cousins.”

He placed a hand on her thigh as he drove them through the countryside of Gotham to Metropolis, taking the long way on what seemed like purpose. So he could encapsulate the moment in his memory for as long as he knew her and what she was to him. She was an adventure waiting to happen, a love story not yet written to tell for ages, a rock ‘n’ roll song written to please the masses in hidden corners of the world.

And to her, he was a masterwork of intertwining memories of pain, sadness, luck and beauty. A mind of complexity she was just waiting to dive into and see how it functioned. A story behind the white tuff of hair he had, why he was jacked to the masses if he was a book nerd. A story of his favourite book and his favourite sibling, his favourite trope, his love, his pain, him.

The moments where she stuck her hand out the window and traced symbols into the Autumn air swirling past the two as they cruised down the empty back roads. When he laughed as she sang Reste by GIMS and Sting. He didn’t understand the lyrics, but she did, and she called it a love song. Well, he got the parts Sting sung, but French wasn’t a language he knew like she did.

“I guess being Bilingual helped you out massively with that one, huh?”

“It’s a talent I never knew I needed, apparently.”

“Well, you did know you needed.”

“That’s fair,” she laughed, “ I guess I did always need it as a skill.”

“Do your cousins speak English too?” he asked.

“Yeah, a bit? It’s better English than my father.”

“Can he not speak English?”

“Well, he can, just not well. But my mother is also Bilingual in English and French so they never had to worry about my father being bad at English. My twin sister and I grew up knowing both languages,” she rambled, still playing with the wind, “I guess it’s a one-up I have on a lot of people, being able to just talk and talk in another language, travelling advantage,” she kept going, Jason intently listening to her as she went on and on, he liked the silence being filled by her voice, “You know? You might know, I don’t know how you were raised to a T,” she finished.

“Well, I can assure you I only know English so you have that theoretical one-up on me, too. But I choose to see that one-up as something you can teach me as time goes on and we progress,” he paused, “If you’re down to get serious eventually, that is,” he panicked.

“Well, maybe we’re at that point where we can say we’re casually seeing each other and exclusive, but not serious. Hopeful, but not pressuring ourselves into something that’s going to be put under a lot of pressure as we go on,” she said, still playing with the wind.

“We’ll see about that after dinner.”

“Where are we even going?”

“Fancy little restaurant with a balcony facing over the city,” he assured.

“Really out here living for the moments?”

“Well, most girls crack under the pressure of the paparazzi, you, however, flipped them off, and that’s being rewarded for showing that you can’t give a fuck about those dingy ass tabloids and how they treat you, by taking you out to nice places,” he said.

She laughed, “I’m glad I’m never going to live that one down, it was really fun to do.”

“I hope it continues as we go along, I would hate to see that behavior change when it brings a smile to everyone who’s ever been harassed by paparazzi” when they pulled over for a second, Jason quickly loosened his tie a tad, “Honestly, I want to ditch this fucking tie,”

“It’s not you,” she said, “It’s just not.”

“And you know me that well to take that guess?”

“I could see you struggling with it from a mile away, Jason. Maybe the fancy restaurant isn’t us,” she laughs, “But we aren’t going to not take that dinner date.”

“Oh we’re so going to take that date, but I’m thinking from here on out we do whatever the fuck we want, no fancy dates. Thoughts?” he asked.

“Done deal,” she said.

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

In the restaurant, the two of them were basically the worst people to be there, it was levels of fancy that neither of them actually wanted, they both wanted simplicity, but they both thought the presence of the other person was enough of a takeaway from the completely wrong choice of restaurant. They had Dick to blame for this one, and Jason made that clear to Dick in a joking text while Y/N snuck off to the bathroom to ‘fix her hair, she was actually checking her breath.

Dick, this fucking restaurant is a god damn bust, man. We aren’t you and Barbara, that’s what we’ve discovered today. lol.

Bummer! We really like that place.

I can see why it screams Dick and Barbs.

You kissed her yet though?

No.

Wuss! Cat got your tongue? Just do it, man.

And at the same time, Y/N was texting A/N about Jason and what to do,

Girl! Thank you so much for reminding me to bring mints, my god, food ruins your breath so much.

You really want the pretty boy kiss huh?

No, I’m eating the mints to not kiss him, YES I WANT THE KISS.

Ha! Honesty is key, just go for it.

She laughed as she packed her phone into her dress pockets (Yeah there’s fucking pockets :) ) and went to leave the restroom to meet up with Jason again. To which, Jason had already paid and tipped the waiter.

“I could have at least helped on the tip, Jay.”

“I tipped him 200%, but if you want to drop more cash, go for it.”

“You tipped that much?” she asked while slipping in a 50$ she had on her.

“Of course, food service workers deserve a lot more than what they get, especially when they have to deal with terrible customers,” he said as he went and grabbed her hand again, not intertwining fingers again, “And my best friend, Will, he complains about people who don’t tip and praises people who quote ‘over tip’ but I think that he deserves 200% each bill for the shit he puts up with.”

“Did you tip him when we went there?”

“No, I called in a ‘No questions asked’ favour. And before you say anything, he did the same to make me babysit his daughter-”

“Your best friend has a daughter?”

“Well, he’s older than me, but yeah, he’s a single dad because her mum kind of sucks, lovely little girl, I’m her godfather.”

“Does she call you Uncle Jason?”

“Well, Uncle Jay, it’s like one of the only works she knows how to say properly, and Dada,” he laughed, “Great little girl,” he said, nervously, “This doesn’t change anything, does it? ‘Cause if he, knock on fucking wood, lord forbids, dies that will be my daughter.”

“Well, he’s not dead and you’re not worrying that he’s going to die, so nothing has to change. God kids are god kids, noble that you took on your best friend’s kid if, lord forbid, anything happens to the man, really,” she assured.

He sighed and kissed the back of her hand, “Then that is just a gift on top of what I did,” he smiled and lead her back to the Porsche once again, opening the car door for her and she slightly turned on the radio, he let out a small laugh to himself, he got the pretty girl. He got into the Porsche again and began backing out.

“There’s something about ditching a really expensive dinner date that leaves you wanting more,” she said, absent-mindedly.

“What kind of more?” he asked.

“The kind you see in the movies, fully exposed and adventurous, you know?”

“Well, we could always sneak into the Wayne Manor Gardens and dance the night away under the stars like lovers do,” he half-joked, placing a hand on her thigh again and pretending like he did it subconsciously, but he was hyper-aware, especially when he caught her smile as she laughed.

“Wayne Manor? With your brothers, sisters, dad, and grandfather?” she paused, “If you’re serious, then no, not tonight. If you’re pulling my leg then, hell fucking no,” she joked.

“Maybe one day, then, huh?”

“One day, for sure. When it isn’t scary to accidentally run into your family on their property running around with you,” she said.

“Well, we can always go into the Wayne Enterprises Ballroom and dance the night away, no one should be in the office for a while and even then since there are no classes in the entire school tomorrow you can just hide out in my office if we stay too long,” he paused to make sure she was still listening, “Security can’t question me because I’m Bruce Wayne’s son, and security is tight as fuck so paparazzi can’t get to us,” he paused to put a little bit of pressure on her thigh, “What do you say? Can I have this dance, Milady?” he half-joked.

“You want to know something Jason?

“Always, Y/N.”

“I took dance lessons when I was younger, can you Waltz?” she asked.

“Yes ma’am, I can.”

“Then I’m in, let’s go.”

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

She loved the feeling of being back in her new hometown, Gotham. So when they pulled into the massive black building, she felt even more welcomed, security at the gates did ask ‘Who’s the girl?’ but Jason just explained it very easily,

“You know that date of mine that flipped off the press and you lot loved it?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” the man responded.

“You can call me Jason, you know that. But this is that girl.”

And they were let through the parking gates and into the underground parking system, they had to travel surprisingly far to Jason’s reserved spot in the lot, but the did get there before it hit AM. Once out of the car, Jason grabbed her hand and they ran into the building’s employees doors. It was a tight squeeze, but the feeling of Jason pressed so close to her sent chills down her spine. They went through many halls and reached the Ballroom, and entering it was like a dream for her.

Walls lined with intricate shapes and colours, but the colours never brought away from the stage at the far end from the door, the curtains seemed to redden with each step towards them, the 3, maybe 4 chandeliers hung above her like crystals in the ocean, it was amazing and beautiful. Checkered floorboards to give it a little bit of dimension, but it was the same colour as the main wall so your brain and eyes wouldn’t hurt after looking at it. It was stunningly beautiful and that’s what drew her in.

When he grabbed her hand and put on Never Let Me Go by Florence + The Machine, pulling her close to his chest and slowly Waltzing her around the room, spinning her when it felt right for him to do. Neither of them worried about the sloppiness or how it looked to the naked eye because it was for them. no one got satisfaction like they did at that moment. And grabbing her for one last dip was Jason’s goal when the ending of the song hit, although out of breath and his face stuffed in her chest as they both panted, he did pull her up so they were face-to-face on the dancefloor that they wiped clean.

“Did I tell you that you look stunning, Y/N?”

“I think you mentioned it a few times, Jay,” she said, staring directly into his eyes.

“Well, I mean it.”

“And I’m going to mean this,” she paused, taking her hand and placing it on his cheek, “ The way your eyes are a green-blue tint makes me lost in them, they’re like a sea of this mind I find myself liking more and more every day,” she paused to put her other hand on his other cheek, “And the way your nose and cheek freckles frame them is amazing.”

And he went for it. Somehow when he pressed his lips into hers, it felt like they were meant to match, and they both opened their mouths to play the coveted game of tongue-war, but they didn’t play by the rules, it was soft and sweet but full of passion and love, not lust. His hands would travel to her waist and lightly grip her, while her hands would travel to his neck and drape around the back of it.

They pulled away at the same moment to take in air, something they had clearly been missing as they were connected, they both let out a small chuckle before she put her hands in his hair and went in for round 2.

This time it was hungrier, and they both played with the shapes of the other so much more as time went on, he would grab her ass and she would pull on his hair slightly before he picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist and moved one of her hands to the nape of his neck, this time, they would break for seconds only to start moving towards his office, which, conveniently, had a couch.

To say he threw her on that couch would be an understatement, he fucking thrust her on that couch and climbed on top of her, it was like 3 days of passion and lust combined themselves in a matter of minutes from their first kiss to them meeting on the couch. They both knew deep down that it couldn’t escalate further than this, especially at 1 in the morning, but time moves fast when you’re connecting in this way.

They finally broke after their passionate exchange and he fell to her side and began to spoon her, “Worth it,” he whispered.

“Worth what?” she asked.

“It was worth it to take a chance and defy my anxieties to ask you on that first date.”

“I don’t like a reality where you didn’t ask me on that date.”

“Neither do I, and I’m positive of that.”

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

Text

Trouble ~ J.V.

A/n: I see my Jerome peeps are HERE and I’m LOVING IT! Prompt list here so y’all don’t have to scroll ;) Feel free to request as many as you want for commission or when requests are open again. I LOVE using prompts!!

Request: “...6, 8 with Jerome Valeska” by anon

6: “You are actually Satan, oh my god.”

8: “Wow, I am so in love with you… just wow.”

MASTERLIST

You know how you see someone, and it’s so obvious where they’ll end up that it’s like a scene in your head? It’s never good when this happens, so usually it’s a sad story and you kind of just frown and shake your head and pity the person, but you know that saying anything won’t do you any good so you just sit back and keep your mouth shut and wait for the inevitable end.

That’s how everyone saw Jerome Valeska.

People had never cared about Jerome, though. If they ever had, it was wiped away pretty quickly. Brutally murdering people with no care for who was on what side, who had helped or hurt, or without even a little remorse or pity or hesitation or regret... it was one of those things that most people found to be a bit of a turn off. Those who didn’t were seen to be just as unhinged as Jerome was, so they were dismissed as well.

The thing was, people HAD cared about Y/n. She was one of the most intellectually promising in her entire high school, maybe in all of Gotham. She was the kind of teenager that seemed so very adult. She was respectful and poised and very well controlled. She was pleasant to be around, and even much older people didn’t mind talking to her if they happened to be in the same place. She’d even made some pleasant relationships.

Like the friendship she had with Bruce Wayne.

Through him, she had come to learn about and meet and even get along with everyone Bruce knew. She could get along with anybody she wanted to, without threats or intimidation or groveling. She simply existed, and she had a sort of comforting, approachable presence about her. She wasn’t the least bit threatening, but she was... nice, I guess. Even dangerous people liked her, because she was the only person who didn’t seem to care about power or advantageous interactions or anything like that.

She was just nice to talk to.

This showed most prominently when she talked to people like Edward Nigma, or Oswald Cobblepott, or Silena Kyle. She’d even found herself in situations to talk to Barbara Gordan. Victor Zsasz.

People usually chalked it up to her being quite unlucky.

Because she was so unsuspecting and unproblematic and calm, she turned out to be a really good hostage. She didn’t talk back or lash out, she just sat and behaved and looked at you with a very calm, calculated expression.

Zsasz had run into her when he’d worked for Penguin and had been guarding her so that Oswald could make a deal without worrying about his bargaining chip being compromised. After a while, Y/n had asked how Zsasz’s day was going. They’d had a short, pleasant conversation, leaving the assassin intrigued by the girl when she’d been let go.

Barbara had a similar experience, except it had been when she was in Arkham of all places. Everyone had a weird thing, and very few if any people knew Y/n’s, but even she had one too. Her weird thing was visiting Arkham Asylum every once in a while visiting random people inside it, and then talking to them with the most easy normality. Like they’d been life long friends, or the person she was talking to was completely sane. She never judged or snapped, she just had a neutral expression with a sort of interest in her eyes. She was polite enough that Barbara had entertained the visit, and found herself not totally regretting it afterward.

Oswald had met her when he was mayor. She had dropped by as an errand for Jim Gordon, and had started a casual conversation when Oswald had expected her to leave when thing were handled. At first he’d been suspicious, and he still was if he was honest, but she hadn’t asked any prying questions or tried to get at him from any angle. If he drew a line, she respected it immediately and moved onto something else without missing a beat. When he got uncomfortable, she apologized and wished him a good day before excusing herself. After she’d show up several more times, sometimes sent by Jim, sometimes just to say hello, Oswald eventually relaxed. He didn’t trust her, and she didn’t expect him to, but when she stopped by to say hello he’d have someone bring them tea and they’d have a little chat. He was a little surprised when she didn’t visit him in Arkham, but when they ran into each other a little later, she nodded to him with a little smile and he got the impression she wasn’t angry with him.

As time passed, more and more people who were considered to be Gotham’s worst were coming up with more and more stories of Y/n. The girl who didn’t scream when she walked into a store and saw a dead body, but who’s neutrality wasn’t unsettling as much as it was kind of calming. She had all the makings of a twisted, demented villain, and yet she was the most normal person ever. It was confusing and intriguing, but never distinctly a bad thing. She was well known, and no one had anything bad to say about her.

It was only a matter of time before Jerome found her.

Not long after he did, he was as taken with her as everyone else. She wasn’t annoying, or unnerved by him. She was in fact endlessly interesting. He thought eventually he would get bored of her complete lack of response to even the most terrible things he told her in an effort to get her going, but found instead that the sort of sparks of interest in her gaze and the small smile that sometimes almost touched her lips was enough to keep him engaged.

She was the exact opposite of him, but in a way that didn’t drive him to want her to be gone. He didn’t WANT to kill her. It was weird, and he was living for it.

Slowly, Y/n stopped showing up in public. She stopped visiting Arkham, and the police department. She stopped running into dangerous people who never seemed to mind seeing her around, even if they weren’t supposed to be seen by anyone. She graduated high school but never talked about college. She just... slowly started to disappear.

It wasn’t as suspicious as it was disappointing. No one could tell where she was going or why all the accidental bump ins were being so carefully removed, but it was leaving the idea in everyone’s head that they might not have been accidents to begin with. Not most of them at least. That was the only thing that it could be, after years and years of her being so very unlucky, only for her to quite suddenly not run into a single soul ever. Even when people sought her out, they couldn’t find her unless she wanted to be found.

She appeared rather suddenly at Jerome’s side one day out of the blue.

No one noticed her behind the line of people in chairs. They were distracted by Jerome talking about his terribly sad past, and the people with explosive collars locked around their necks. Most importantly noted: Bruce Wayne and Jerome’s twin brother, Jeremiah.

It wasn’t until Jerome drew attention to her that anyone even registered her at all. She was so still and quiet that behind all the chaos, she might as well have been invisible.

Jerome was only too enthused to rub it in everyone’s faces.

“You know you don’t like me, and that’s fair. I’m not like any of you, am I? I don’t smile right, and I act weird. Then there’s the whole killing people thing.” He giggled, but the crowd in front of him only looked disgusted. “But is that why you really hate me, Gotham? Because I’m a big ol mean bad guy? Do you hate me because I’m a little unhinged? Because I’m a little loud and hysterical and I scare you? Or do I scare you because I have no problem being very honest and very open with all of the things you people LOVE to push under the rug and hide away and pretend no one can see.” He shook his head. “Because I’ve come to realize there is someone who’s exactly like me, but so much better at playing all of you. So much better at playing innocent and harmless and friendly, and with no real intentions other than to prove how easy you all are. How transparent.” His eyes drifted toward Y/n, and he motioned her forward. Without hesitating, she did take a few steps forward, into the light and right behind Bruce Wayne.

Gasps echoed in the crowd. To everyone’s stunned silence, Y/n stood there with the same calm and reservation she always did. She seemed perfectly unbothered by the dead body inches from her, or the people she had always seemed so close to being in danger. She didn’t look around, trying to gauge a way out, and nothing held her in forced obedience. She just looked at Jerome, that same nice, almost-smile and curiosity dancing in her eyes.

“What-” Bruce looked around, mouth dropping open when he saw who was behind him. “Y/n?”

“Ah yes,” Jerome purred. “Gotham’s little angel. Friend to all. Unassuming and nice and calm and wonderful. Aren’t you just a pillar of perfection, Y/n?” He giggled again, and Y/n tilted her head, her smile growing a little,

For the first time ever, Y/n was unnerving. Seeing her of all people look dangerous was so upsetting that the crowd started to step down from their anger towards Jerome and were edging toward true fear. If she could end up being bad, who else could? If even the bets of them could be corrupted, and even the most deranged mind could act completely normal, how could anyone ever tell when people were dangerous anymore?

It could be anyone. Anyone they trusted. Anyone they knew. Anyone they’d talked to long enough to decide they were safe. Because Bruce Wayne had known Y/n best of anyone in Gotham, and even he looked as stunned as everyone felt. He had spent copious amounts of time with her, including for hours straight during school hours, and even he had not on any level or in any way seen anything like this coming.

“Y/n?” Bruce whispered.

Y/n met his gaze. “Yes?”

He wasn’t sure what to ask her. “What’s going on?” is what he settled on.

She shrugged, as if they were catching up after school. During tea time maybe, after having not seen each other recently. “Nothing much. I’m observing and learning. People are so intriguing Bruce, have you ever noticed? I’ve learned so much. All I ever had to do was be polite, and everyone would let me sit there as long as I wanted and observe them. You learn so much by watching people, but even more from talking to them. And they always let me. All I had to do was let them talk. I never lied. I never pushed. I was respectful and curious, and they responded so well. I’ve come to learn that even the most suspicious people feel the loneliness of humanity. They crave to be wanted. To looked at. All I had to do was show interest, and they thrived under that attention. You really have to do so little for people to like you. It’s so interesting.”

Bruce’s eyes had been widening as she spoke. She said it all like she was observing humanity in a way that she wasn’t apart of it. “You’re like us, aren’t you?”

“Oh of course,” she agreed. “That’s the thing. I wanted to understand myself, so I looked at those like me. And those unlike me. To see what was and wasn’t me. To see what was similar and what was so very completely different.” She chuckled softly and Bruce felt sick to his stomach. “I never expected to find someone so very similar to me to be someone seen the eyes of everyone else as exactly opposite. Jerome and I? Very much the same, except I’d rather learn than act. I never really cared about people’s opinions or if they didn’t like me or if they were mean. I was too unassuming for bullying or abuse. I didn’t care if people looked over me like Jerome does, and that’s really the only difference. I just wanted to learn, and people were always willing to let me.” She shrugged. “But people are so simple. So easy to understand. MUCH more straight forward than any of them would like to admit. I think I’m going to be staying with Jerome from now on. He’s interesting. He understands.”

Jeremiah knew who she was only by association, and even he was surprised, despite having known Jerome very close up for so long. He supposed it wasn’t fault, but watching Bruce, he wondered if he’d even been able to tell her true nature. Even now she looked completely normal and safe. Her eyes were full of life, and she was fairly attractive. The way she stood was relaxed and the way she talked was completely normal. What was upsetting about her was not that she was obviously messed up. It was that she was so painfully normal in even a situation that should have been quite upsetting.

“You’re a sociopath,” Jeremiah offered in a sort of leveled voice. Her eyes turned to him and he realized that her calmness was contagious. She had the look of someone you could just... fall into. So easy to trust. Even now he found himself a little lured by her. She was honest about who she was. She didn’t hide anything. She was just quiet, and people forgot to ask. That wasn’t her fault. Maybe she could still be saved from his deranged brother.

“Yes,” Y/n agreed, and her complete acceptance of that didn’t sit well with Jeremiah. “Would you like me to show you? I have come to learn that everyone wants some sort of proof of it. They have a hard time believing me.”

“No that’s okay,” Jeremiah rushed to reassure just as Jerome squealed, “Yes please!”

Between the two opposite reactions from the two very opposite twins, Bruce got the idea of what her kind of proof might mean. “Don’t worry Y/n, we believe you.”

She nodded, and the two boys thought that’d be the end of it. But then she pulled an actual gun out of seemingly nowhere, pointed it at the crowd, and shot without even hesitating. There went up a scream as people scattered, revealing the body of a woman bleeding out on the ground. The bullet had hit someone around her neck and no one could do anything other than give her and themselves plenty of room away from her.

Jerome squealed with excitement.

Bruce looked at Y/n with horror. “I said we believed you! You didn’t have to kill her!”

“But I did,” Y/n decided. “Because they didn’t believe me.” Her lips turned up into a stronger smile. There was no regret or hesitation in her eyes, and Bruce felt dread slowly settle throughout his body. She WAS exactly like Jerome and the only reason this was her first kill is because she’d decided to wait until now to kill someone. They’d all been at her mercy this entire time, like a mouse held down by a mouse trap. Except they’d been perfectly fine just sitting in her trap and letting her watch with mild interest as they died.

She was just like Jerome.

One of the other people in line spat, “You’re actually Satan, oh my god.” His eyes were wide and Bruce got the idea that if he hadn’t been held by the explosive collar, he might have bolted. “You let all of us trust you and welcome you and be around you. You gained our trust, and you don’t even care about us?”

Very calmly, Y/n simply shook her head. “We’re all just meat. Do you care about the animals scientists test on to give you your makeup products and medicine? Do you care about the pig killed for its meat, or the dogs that rip each other apart in the streets for entertainment and money? We’re just animals. You guys have just gotten the idea stuck in your head for some reason that we’re special animals. You won’t admit those animals will eat you just as quickly as you will them. Pigs have high intelligence. You think you’re gods because you have the highest intelligence and then ignore how you so easily ignore what you know and do what you want instead. You give into nature just like any predator. I have simply stopped being either. I’m not villain. I’m not a hero. And you think the people who watch the villain are a different category, but they’re not. They do nothing, and bad thing happen, and that’s it. A woman died, and people didn’t do anything to stop it. There’s a whole crowd of people not held here by anything other than a secret, sick fascination with the terrible things happening here. You are just as bad as Jerome. Just as bad as me. You just refuse to admit it. I don’t. That’s all.”

Grinning, Jerome sat forward in his chair. “Wow I am so in love with you.” He giggled and everyone in the area cringed. The idea of Jerome Valeska being involved like that with Y/n... And the way she seemed to not mind it either. On top of everything else that had happened here, it was so viscerally upsetting. Jerome stood, moving behind the people in chairs to gently grab Y/n’s face, pulling her lips against his. When he pulled away, everyone’s face had gone scaringly pale. “Just, wow,” the red head whispered.

Y/n seemed to consider that. “You know, I think I have some sort of care for you. Like... like how someone explained a pet to me. Is that how affection feels?” She still looked only curious. It made sense that in a world who didn’t care to learn about people like her, and after a lifetime of holding back her questions and lack of understanding, even after all this time she still would be confused about the different way she experienced relationships with other people.

Jerome shrugged. “I think not, but I can be your pet if you want.”

Y/n smiled. “I think I do want that.”

A victorious smile adorned Jerome’s face. “That’s all I needed!” He turned to face his brother and Bruce Wayne again. “See, I was so stuck on you two. I died wanting to kill Brucie, and I’ve lived my entire life wanting to kill my dear brother, so I lived for nothing else. I thought of nothing else. I existed to end you two. But now, I have a different purpose. There is nothing like looking at someone you find so very interesting and them returning that back to you.” He giggled. “Mom always said I’d never find love. Aren’t you proud of me for proving her wrong?”

“This isn’t love,” Bruce snapped. “It’s demented. You can’t feel love. Neither of you can.”

“Maybe not,” Y/n agreed. “But it will be fun testing that.” She turned and walked off the stage, heading back and disappearing.

Jerome sighed. “And that’s my cue.” There was a gun shot and a sharp pain in his hand as the detonator fell out of his hands. He could no longer explode the necklaces. He made an ‘oopsie’ sort of expression before ducking away as another gunshot run out. “See you around, you two!” His laughter echoed as he disappeared after Y/n, fading away too quickly.

By the time Jim Gordon chased after Jerome, it was far passed too late. Whatever Y/n had done to ensure their escape, it had left no traces. They were gone.

Behind them, they left death and the lingering feeling in the air like this was only the beginning to a very, very terrible love story.

#jerome velaska imagine #jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska #gotham #gotham x reader #gotham imagine #cameron monaghan x reader #cameron monaghan imagine #cameron monaghan #joker #joker imagine #joker x reader

333 notes · View notes

kaistarus · 3 years

Text

Just A Line Without A Hook

Pairing: Hinata X Reader

Words: 5.9K

Summary: You and Hinata share your point-of-views during important milestones throughout your relationship.

A/N: This is a full relationship development and I’m very proud lol hopefully you can find some joy in it :3

Masterlist // Ko-Fi

Hinata was weird.

That lurked in your mind as you leaned on a conspicuously sticky bar table listening to him tell you his entire life’s story. Your original intent for the night had been to quickly pop into Yachi’s birthday party since you worked at the butt crack of dawn. Give her the present and maybe have a drink. Whatever you did it was meant to be fast.

Too bad you had never been good at sticking to plans.

“I moved to Brazil right after high school to learn beach volleyball,” Hinata said, his smile soft as he looked longingly in the distance. “But I didn’t explore as much as I should have. I really want to go back.”

“Out of high school?” You cocked your head to the side, “that’s wild. I moved to Tokyo and still felt completely out of place.”

“Well, it didn’t go too hot at first.” He scratched his cheek. “I actually got my wallet stolen my first week there…”

You fought to keep lips from pulling into a smile.

There was something in the carefree way he carried himself that made it hard to turn away. The moment Yachi introduced you there was an odd sense of comfort that washed over you. Which made no sense because you had known absolutely nothing about the guy-aside from him being a professional volleyball player and attending high school with Yachi.

Still, it was no reason to let your guard down.

“Sounds like they took advantage of the clueless foreigner,” you teased, curious butterflies tickling your abdomen when he pouted. “I’ve always thought Italy looked cool. If I could travel somewhere.”

Hinata’s lips mindlessly curved into a relaxed smile as you spoke, as if that was their default expression when not preoccupied. And it made conversation with him easy. It dissipated your usual anxieties about overthinking every action or word. You truly felt like you could be yourself and just exist within his presence.

“I have a friend in Italy!” Hinata said, elation lighting up his amber eyes. He began drawing circles in the condensation of his glass with an awkward laugh. “I think anyway. He travels all over the place, but he was in Italy last I knew.”

“That’s so cool,” your jaw went a little slack. You didn’t know people actually did stuff like that.

“Yeah Noya’s the best,” Hinata nodded resolutely. “He visited me for a while in Brazil. I taught him some Portugese and we played beach volleyball. He was so jealous everyone called me Ninja Shoyo. It was awesome.”

Hinata could speak Portugese? Ninja Shoyo?

So many questions…

“What’s a Ninja Sho-” You began until your phone lit up after receiving a message and you realized just how late it was. “Oh my god, I have to go.”

“Wait,” Hinata interrupted you mid-frantic scrabble to zip your jacket. You furrowed your brow at the smartphone he placed unlocked on the table between you. “Could I-uh-you know… talk to you again sometime?”

You blinked a few times before swiping the device off the bar’s gross table. “Yeah,” you said, a warmth you didn’t recognize filling your chest as you created your contact. “I’d like that.”

An absentminded smile painted Hinata’s face after you waved good-bye and when you stepped outside beneath the light snowfall you realized your lips were curved to match. But there was still too wide a gap between how little you knew about Hinata and how much you desired to be close to him. That new part of you burned too bright in your chest to be ignored.

And you would simply have to change that.

*******************************************************************************************

Hinata huddled in the corner of the gymnasium over his duffle bag, staring at his cellphone in case he received a last second message. His eyes flickered between the ticking clock above the bleachers and his phone’s black screen, stomach sinking as the seconds passed. He anxiously unlocked his phone to scroll through and analyze his last conversation.

Had he said something wrong? He supposed he’d never actively tried to flirt before, so it wasn’t unlikely he offended you somehow. He furrowed his brow and chewed on his thumbnail, rereading his last message. Maybe he overdid it with the emojis?

Wait, were you at work? You could also just be busy. Maybe he was just overthinking everything…

“Why are you crouched in the corner like a creep?” Atsumu crept up behind him, eyeing him suspiciously.

Hinata jumped, shoving his phone back into his duffle bag. “Nothing.”

“Bull shit. You’ve been acting off for weeks,” Atsumu squatted to Hinata’s eye-level and leaned forward with a sly grin. “Someone’s keeping secrets.”

A warmth rushed to Hinata’s face. He was a terrible liar if questioned directly. “I wouldn’t keep secrets from you guys. I mean, we’re practically family now.” he chuckled unconvincingly.

“Right,” Atsumu gave him a once-over before standing. Hinata let out a relieved sigh that he’d been spared for now.

“What’s happening over here?” Bakuto boisterously called out while skipping over to the boys. Sakusa trailed behind him with his hands shoved deep into his sweatpant’s pockets.

“Hinata’s lying out his ass.”

Hinata whipped around toward Atsumu with his jaw slack. The audacity of this guy. “I am not!”

“The guy’s zoning out at practice, making heart eyes at his phone, and fucking notre daming over his duffle?” Atsume raised his brows at Hinata. “Either he’s getting scouted for a different team or he’s dating someone.”

“You’re leaving the team?” Sakusa asked monotone, as if he couldn’t care either way. If Hinata wasn’t used to the constant monotone he’d be offended.

“No,” he denied, qualming Bokuto’s prepared puppy-dog eyes. “And I’m not dating anyone.”

Which wasn’t a lie. You were nothing more than a friend at this point. Even if his heart ignited a flame anytime your name crossed his mind.

“A crush then,” Atsumu waved him off. “Either way a massive Hinata life development you lied to us about.”

“I didn’t lie, I just,” Hinata wrinkled his nose while thinking of ways out of the predicament. “I think Shugo is calling to start practice. We should probably-”

“You’ve got a crush?” Bokuto’s eyes appeared to sparkle when he flung an arm around Hinata’s shoulder. “Who is it? Do we know them? You don’t need to sweat Hinata I’m an excellent wingman.”

Hinata waved his hands in front of him. “You don’t know them and it’s okay. You really don’t have to-”

“Oh, don’t be so considerate. We’re offering our services Hinata.” Atsumu said smugly while Bokuto nodded excitedly.

Hinata forced a half-smile. This had been exactly what he wanted to avoid. If his feelings were just a measly crush he would have gladly brought them up to the guys, but they were way more extreme then that.

“I’m not offering anything,” Sakusa raised his brows slightly in Hinata’s direction before walking off. “Good luck.”

“Buzz kill.” Atsumu pouted.

“Look, this is more complicated than you guys realize,” Hinata brushed Bokuto’s arm off his shoulders. “I can’t really explain it, but I don’t think you guys can help me.”

“Hinata, it’s okay. We all have our faults. Some more than others, but we’re here for you.” Atsumu patted his shoulder understandably and Hinata shot him a glare.

“Akaashi always tells me to ‘just be yourself’.” Bokuto nodded proudly, clasping his fist with determination. “Then you’ll attract the people who are meant to be in your life.”

Hinata blinked a few times. That… was really good advice.

“That’s stupid,” Atsumu scoffed. “You gotta stalk them on all social media. Analyze their personality and figure out exactly what they're into. Learn their ins and outs and become their type.”

That… was the dumbest thing he had ever heard.

“I don’t know Atsumu, that sounds kind of wrong,” Bokuto tapped his chin and Atsumu pinched the bridge of his nose, sighed deeply.

“Okay, but numbers don’t lie and I have the highest success rate.”

Bokuto and Hinata tilted their heads mulling that one over. No. It still seemed dumb.

Hinata zoned off as Bokuto and Atsumu began debating the morals of online stalking and the value of Akaashi’s opinions. He already knew that if he wanted real help picking apart the fire in his chest he’d have to talk to someone who’d take him seriously like Yamaguchi. Then he’d actually get to dissect the confusing emotions in his heart-look at them from all angles.

Learn to understand them and tend to them properly. Help them grow.

He watched Atsumu chase a cackling Bokuto around the gym until their captain Shugo scolded them. Hinata smirked. Even if they weren’t the most helpful he still appreciated knowing he had people willing to help him... in their own way.

*******************************************************************************************

You and Hinata spent the majority of your free time together, but even after several months it was nothing more than two friends placing comfort in each other’s company. Most Thursdays it was normal to find Hinata lounging on your living room sofa. He watched some volleyball commentary video on his cellphone, legs propped lazily on the armrest, while you answered work emails at your coffee table.

On a normal Thursday night you would continue whatever show you’d been watching-currently Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood-but tonight you were stuck finishing last minute work. You heaved a sigh and glanced over your shoulder at Hinata, his breathing relaxed while his eyes flickered across his phone’s screen.

You weren’t oblivious to your feelings. Maybe at first you were able to brush them off as excitement about a new friend, but they had shifted into something intense. Always festering in the forefront of your mind throughout your daily routine.

It became obvious when you noticed you spent more time counting the freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose than focusing on conversations. When you realized you spent more time at work trying to pin-point the exact shade to call his hair than getting actual work done. Even more so when your heart would do acrobatics at the sound of his voice whenever you talked on the phone.

No matter how you looked at it, it became impossible to deny.

“Hey, are you okay?”

You looked back again and Hinata’s eyebrows were furrowed with concern, his earbuds pulled out and phone placed on his stomach.

“Yeah,” you half-smiled and he raised his brows to show he clearly didn’t believe you. You let out a breathy laugh, breaking the eye-contact to lean back against the couch and place your head on his bicep. “I’m just thinking.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he teased, a hand gently placed on the crown of your head.

“Shut up,” you said with no bite behind your words.

He snorted, rubbing his thumb against the top of your head. “...what if I was also thinking?”

“That’s probably more dangerous than me thinking,” you laughed, rubbing your socked toes together with a soft smile. When he didn’t respond you twisted around to check on him, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes. “Hinata?”

“Nevermind.”

You gripped the couch cushion for support as you leaned in slightly. There was no way for you to be sure, but you could have sworn Hinata was blushing.

“What were you thinking about?” You questioned. Your heart was beating a million times a second in your chest and there was something akin to hope burning beside it.

Hinata looked in your eyes challengingly, “what were you thinking about?”

“You.”

He seemed taken aback by your bluntness, but brushed it off quickly. “I want to kiss you.”

Your eyes widened. It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room as you stared into his hopeful amber eyes.

“Well, do it then.” You responded, barely above a whisper. Hinata took a while to process, but once he had his face lit up crimson.

His hand cradled the side of your face and you watched him carefully, allowing him to make the moves. You kept your mind blank so as not to overthink the situation, but you hoped at least one brain cell was functioning enough to get you through it.

The kiss Hinata pressed against your lips was a little too hesitant, too off-center, and too brief. Yet the beaming smile he gave you afterward sent your heart into a frenzy unlike anything you’d ever experienced. The dopey smile on your lips felt too embarrassing and you buried your face against Hinata’s chest.

After a little coaxing with promises of television and snacks you peeked back up, happily met with Hinata’s dazed smile. The rest of the night was spent wrapped in each other’s arms and supplying random kisses because ‘they definitely needed practice’; ending with Hinata falling asleep in your bed for the first, but definitely not last, time.

*******************************************************************************************

Hinata hated being sick.

He hated fighting through a thick fog to collect words when stringing together sentences was usually effortless. He hated the pounding headaches following any light reaching his unfocused eyes. And Hinata especially hated his fit lungs struggling through breaths that came out raspy and weak through his aching throat.

Nothing good came from being sick. It was a lesson he learned long ago.

“You need to sleep,” you whispered against the crown of his head, your fingers carding gently through his sweaty locks. He nuzzled the tip of his nose against the cool skin at your collarbone while gripping your shirt at your shoulder.

Unfortunately, you were making it really hard for him to hate anything anymore.

“You’re going to get sick,” he pointed out, voice scratchy from his throat’s soreness.

You hummed dismissively, planting a small kiss on the top of his head. “My immune system’s pretty strong.”

Hinata knew it didn’t work that way, but was too selfish to argue your flawed logic. The bare skin of your neck helped chill his overheated forehead and he cuddled ever closer into you, twining your legs together. He wrinkled his nose when he realized how gross his fever was probably making him.

He’d have to wash your sheets and stuff when he was feeling better.

“I wish I could kiss you,” he pouted.

“That one’s gonna have to wait,” you chuckled lightly, beginning to rub soothing circles into his lower back. The vibrations from your voice sent a pleasant shiver down Hinata’s spine and the corners of his lips lifted. “You know, you’ll get better faster if you sleep.”

“But I wanna stay awake with you,” Hinata whined, lazily beginning to trace designs on your shoulder. The world was so cruel.

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” you said, barely above a whisper. Hinata grumbled a nonsense of a response and you chuckled lightly. You fell silent for a long enough period that Hinata began believing you fell asleep before him until you asked, “can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah,” Hinata yawned, snuggling against your chest. “I love secrets.”

Silence enveloped his apartment again and Hinata almost dozed off.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

He blinked himself back to consciousness while the words rolled over in his mind. He froze. The fast paced rhythm of your heart was the only source available to keep him grounded as his foggy brain worked to unpack your words.

Love?

He glanced up to meet your nervous eyes paired with flushed cheeks. He stared in disbelief while you continued to patiently wait for his reaction. This better not be some sort of fever induced hallucination.

“No one’s ever said that to me before,” he said, eyebrows creased. Aside from his mom and Natsu, obviously, but he figured you’d know what he meant.

The corner of your mouth lifted into a hopeful half-smile. “Well, I’m honored.” Your touch was gentle as you brushed the hair back from his forehead. He subconsciously leaned into your touch with a wondrous stare and his eyes scoured your face for his answer.

Except you were the answer.

“I’ve never been in love before, but…” He struggled for the right words-any words-settling on what he could piece together at the moment. “I feel like things are better when you’re here. Like, I can do anything I hope to and more. I just feel happier when I’m with you and it’s easier and everything makes sense…” He wrinkled his nose. “Is… is that love?”

You cradled his fevered cheeks tenderly. “I think that’s for you to decide Hinata.”

He nodded to himself. “Okay,” he said determinedly. “Then yeah. It is, I love you, (Y/N).”

“I’m glad,” you smiled, looking at him with an affectionate stare that set his heart ablaze. He took a deep breath before disappointedly letting his forehead drop to your chest.

“Fuck, I want to kiss you so bad.”

You let out a bubble of laughter, rubbing your thumbs tenderly against his cheeks. “We’ll make up for it plenty when you’re feeling better.”

He tried to hold back a smirk, but failed. “Fine.”

“Now go to sleep,” You ordered, planting a quick peck to the top of his head.

He grumbled half-assed as he situated himself more comfortably, but Hinata was all talk at this point. His eyelids were heavy with sleep and his heart hummed with contentment. He was in love. A smile dusted his lips as he began drifting off.

Maybe being sick wasn’t so bad after all.

*******************************************************************************************

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously at your boyfriend across the couch chowing down on take-out sushi. Hinata’s eyes were glued to the television’s screen, his hand alternating between shoveling food into his mouth and rubbing mindless circles on your shin across his lap. Things were comfortable, easy, perfect some might even say.

Too perfect.

“Why aren’t we fighting?”

Hinata turned, cheeks stuffed with food and eyebrows raised with surprise. Under normal circumstances you’d consider it adorable, but you wanted to be serious.

He swallowed with a wince before raising an eyebrow. “Did something happen?”

“No, but we’ve been dating for a while and we haven’t had the big fight.”

“We fight all the time,” he placed his plate on the coffee table with a roll of his eyes. You huffed because he clearly wasn’t on the same page. “Just yesterday I was pissed because you left an empty container of milk in my fridge.”

“It wasn’t empty.”

“There was a dribble. That’s not enough for-” He put up a hand and took a breath. “Not the point. Point is: we fought right?”

“That was hardly a discussion.” You waved him off. He had angrily brought it up, you kissed him sorry, and he forgave you. Hinata didn’t know how to hold a grudge and all you had to do was buy him more milk.

“Okay, a few weeks ago then. You fell in the toilet because I forgot to put the seat down.” He nodded confidently. “You woke me up in the middle of the night for that one.”

You shuddered at the memory of being shocked into full consciousness by falling into a pool of your own piss. In your shocked state you may have chosen violence and decided to pick a fight with Hinata at three in the morning, but it was well deserved.

“Okay, but that’s not what I mean.”

“Are you sure?” He raised a brow. “Waking up with my girlfriend on top of me and slowly realizing she’s threatening to end my bloodline kind of feels like a fight.”

“Okay, that’s-” You pinched the bridge of your nose and ignored his amused smirk. “I’m talking about relationship ruining fights.”

He tilted his head, clearly not following you.

“Like, you insult me using some secret I’ve only divulged to you and I leave crying with no self-esteem.” You explained with exaggerated hand gestures and his nose wrinkled. “Or I walk in on you having an explicit affair with Kageyama, or maybe you get drunk and I over hear you talking with-”

He put both his hands up, “back it up. What the hell was that last one?”

“An explicit affair?” You blinked a few times and cocked your head to the side. “With… Kageyama?”

“Yeah that’s what I-we’re gonna unpack that later.” He palmed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Anyway, why would any of this happen?”

“Because that’s what always happens.” You answered honestly. Maybe you sounded like a pessimist, but that was just the reality of the world. At least, you had never seen it work any other way. “So just… tell me how it’s going to happen.”

Hinata looked crestfallen at your statement and the dejected look in his eyes made your heart sink to your stomach. You closed your eyes, waiting for him to question your sanity, but was taken back when he crawled forward to rest his head on your chest.

“If I ever hurt you like that,” he mouthed against your collarbone. “I would never forgive myself.”

Your heart raced and you brought a hand to card through his unruly locks, nodding to acknowledge his words.

“Don’t overthink,” he said, kissing your neck softly. “If we’re good then we’re good. Maybe that’s just how it’s meant to be.”

Your lips curved into a small smile and you nodded again. You let yourselves just exist with him for a while. Heart’s beating in unison while you twirled tufts of autumn through your fingers. His lips dusting across your neck as he whispered loving affirmations against you. And maybe he was right.

Maybe it was just meant to be.

*******************************************************************************************

Hinata moved expertly around his kitchen preparing breakfast, sneaking glancing at you perched drowsily beside the stove adorning one of his larger shirts. Obviously it wasn’t the first time he’d seen you like that-hair mussed, eyes heavy with sleep, in only his clothes-but it still warmed his heart when you existed so casually in space. Like you belonged there.

His lips curved into a smile as he cracked several eggs into a heated frying pan. The dull thudding of your heels hitting a cupboard mixed with the sizzling on the pan for the background of your comfortable silence. Even without conversation his life felt brighter in your presence and he was thankful his apartment was such a convenient location for the both of you.

You yawned deeply, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and finally focusing on him. Hinata selfishly wished you could be with him more often. The days he woke up without you were the coldest.

“What are you staring at?” You slurred with another yawn.

Hinata shot you a lopsided grin, “my beautiful girlfriend.”

You side-eyed him with an amused smirk, “kiss ass.”

Hinata slid the eggs onto a couple plates before going to stand in front of you. You raised a curious brow, but weren’t given enough time to voice a question before he pressed his lips to yours. His mouth curved into a smile against yours-another reason he loved you being here so often was it meant more of this.

Your hands cradled his face as he appreciated that you still tasted like mint from his borrowed toothpaste this morning. Another subtle way he’d nudged himself into your life he realized, toying with the bottom of his shirt you were wearing.

“What’s this for?” You asked, sliding your hands over his shoulders and hooking them behind his neck.

“I just love you,” he replied earnestly. Your fingers laid a scorching touch as they teased the baby hairs on his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. Hinata took his time with languid kisses-he could kiss you a million times and the hunger for more would always linger.

Your breaths were heavy when you pulled back to place your forehead against his, eyeing him with pure affection that set his heart ablaze. “I love you too, Shoyo.”

He trailed his knuckles down your cheek and relished in the way you leaned into his touch. How had he gotten this luck? Hinata placed a tender kiss on your forehead, temple, cheekbone, tip of your nose, and finally on your lips.

“You should move in.”

Hinata’s eyes widened in shock at his own question because that had been the last thing he’d planned on doing this morning. Well, the suggestion was out there and it’s not like he wanted to take it back...

You blinked several times as you processed. “With you?”

“Ideally.”

You furrowed your brow while mulling it over and Hinata counted his heartbeats to stay grounded. Worst case scenario you say no and things are awkward for a bit. Best case scenario he takes a large step forward with the love of his life.

Oh god, he should’ve planned this better.

“Okay.”

“I understand,” Hinata sighed. “It was totally random and I shouldn’t have expected-did you say yes?”

“Yeah,” your cheeks flushed and you bit your bottom lip to fight down a smile. “I mean, I’m here most of the time anyway, right?”

Hinata nodded mindlessly before a face splitting grin covered his features and he scooped you off the corner. You squealed while he spun you around with a bright laugh, interrupting any of your comments with a passionate kiss. While you were busy tangling your fingers into his unruly hair he glanced toward his bedroom’s door.

There was probably enough time to celebrate.

*******************************************************************************************

“She’s beautiful,” you said in awe, cradling the swaddled newborn in your arms. She was sleeping soundly, tiny breaths leaving her partly open mouth. The baby looked too fragile for this world, features too small and delicate to be realistic.

She was amazing.

“Well, she’s our daughter,” Tanaka’s chest puffed up proudly. He sat beside Shimizu on her hospital bed with an arm hung loosely around her. “Obviously she’s going to be perfect.”

You wouldn’t fight his dramatics; he deserved to be happy today.

“What’s her name?” Hinata breathed. Seated beside you he leaned heavily against your side to observe the baby.

“Sayori,” Shimizu yawned. She and Tanaka had deep bruises under their eyes, and you smirked knowingly down at the sleeping demon in disguise.

Hinata hesitantly moved his hand toward Sayori before planting it back on his lap. You raised a brow, reaching over with the hand not helping cradle Sayori’s head and grabbed his forefinger. Hinata looked at you panicked, but relaxed as you guided him toward Sayori’s small fist that pressed gently against her pink cheeks.

When she instinctively wrapped her fingers around his forefinger his eyes widened and he whipped his gaze to you. “She grabbed my finger,” he whispered.

“They do that,” you smirked, a frenzy of butterflies attacking your stomach as he stared at Sayori wondrously.

“That’s amazing.”

“Okay, stop using my kid as a way to feed your baby fever.” Tanaka huffed. Shimizu elbowed him in the stomach and a warmth trickled up your face when his words hit you.

“What’s a baby fever?” Hinata asked, raising an eyebrow at you. “Is it dangerous?”

“No,” you stumbled over a reply that wouldn’t make the situation incredibly awkward. “It’s when you, uh, want kids.”

“Oh,” Hinata shrugged, bouncing his finger to play with Sayori’s hand. “What’s wrong with eventually wanting kids?”

“That’s not-”

“No, it means you want a kid now.” Tanaka emphasized by smacking the hospital bed. “Like, go home immediately and make a baby level now.”

Hinata blinked a few times before his face lit up red, “oh.”

You nodded awkwardly and both of you remained quiet while Shimizu chastised Tanaka in the background. One of you should probably deny the baby fever thing… right? You glanced over to Hinata, but his eyebrows were furrowed as he stared intently at Sayori.

“Okay, Sayori needs to eat soon, so I’m kicking Hinata out.” Tanaka announced.

Hinata didn’t put up any fights and you passed Sayori back to Shimizu, making plans to see each other again soon. You offered your services for future babysitting with Hinata’s vigorous agreeing behind you and they were more than grateful for it. Regardless Tanaka shooed you out when Sayori began wriggling in Shimizu’s arms.

As you and Hinata made your way to the metro that would bring you to your apartment complex the air between you was heavy. An obvious awkwardness that was harder to ignore the longer you walked together.

“I’m not surprised their baby ended up looking so cute,” you laughed, filling the space with nervous chatter. “Shimizu is really pretty.”

He nodded, looking up at the cloudless sky thoughtfully. “Do you think our baby would be cute?”

Your heart rate quickened at the idea. It wasn’t like you’d never thought of it, but talking about it outloud was a completely different monster. “I think it would have pretty great genes.”

He nodded, furrowing his brow at the sidewalk ahead.

Hinata wasn’t an idiot. Neither of you were ready for something like that. Several nights ago you’d decided to get drunk and attempt making meat buns-you’d nearly set the kitchen on fire. That doesn’t scream parent material.

On a larger scale, Hinata had just been selected for Japan’s Olympic team. There just wasn’t time for something like that. No, a baby wasn’t realistic.

However...

“What’s our apartment’s pet policy?”

He turned to you with a raised brow, “probably an extra fee and a weight limit. Why?”

You smirked mischievously at him, “want to get a dog?”

His jaw dropped. “Oh my fu-can I name it?”

“Only if I get to pick the breed.”

“Well then, what are you waiting for?” Hinata grasped your hand and yanked you toward the closest metro station. “Look up the closest pet store and let’s go!”

You chuckled, allowing him to pull you toward a random station that probably wouldn’t lead you where you needed. It would work out in the end. Things always seemed to fall perfectly into place with HInata.

*******************************************************************************************

Hinata glared across the roll of wrapping paper at the small puppy crushing the end of the tube, tearing edges of red and white striped paper with its sharp teeth. Hinata tugged it out of the pup’s mouth, but that only encouraged the behavior as it leapt forward to chew with more vigor.

“Can you grab your son?” Hinata waved the roll around, letting the Shiba Inu chase the end that Hinata held just out of reach. “He’s making this more difficult than it needs to be.”

You paused your typing at the dining table and giggled at Hinata’s antics. After closing the laptop you jogged over to scoop the puppy up, flipping him over in your arms to rub its belly. The puppy let its tongue hang out and wagged its tail vigorously at the attention.

“Oh, Deku, are you giving your dad a hard time,” you cooed down at the puppy, lifting him to look him in the eyes with a furrowed brow. “That’s not very nice.”

Hinata rolled his eyes fondly at your pathetic attempt of scolding while Deku licked you on the nose. Just several months old and he already knew how to manipulate people with his cuteness.

“I bought our bullet train tickets,” you said while nudging him the roll of tape he’d started looking around for. “Natsu called me earlier. We decided that you and I should get there around 3.”

Hinata tore a piece of tape off with his teeth while he held the wrapping paper still around the boxed pair of rollerskates with his foot.

“We have to stop by Tanaka’s place before we head out,” Hinata wrinkled his nose at his poor wrapping job. “Noya’s visiting for a while and he wants to meet Deku.”

“Of course,” you smiled as you held a chew toy above Deku’s face so he could nibble on it in your lap. “We have some presents for Sayori, anyway.”

Oh yeah. You had split the present wrapping in terms of difficulty, so you had the pleasure of wrapping weirdly shaped toys while he was left with boxes. Somehow, his still turned out to be a disaster.

He could hear Natsu’s complaints already.

“The train doesn’t leave till one, so we should have plenty of time.” You stated once Hinata taped the final present, completing his small present tower. Deku wriggled himself free from your grip and immediately attacked the empty wrapping paper roll.

Hinata smiled absentmindedly as he watched Deku hold the tube still with his small paws as he gnawed the cardboard. He felt you crawl over, lying your head onto his lap as your eyes followed his to watch your dog-son together. He felt at peace, running his fingers through your hair while Deku wreaked mischief nearby.

He felt like he could never get happier than this, and he never wanted it to end.

“He really is a troublemaker,” you snorted as Deku dragged the tube across the living room proudly. “Gets it from you.”

Hinata rolled his eyes and pinched your cheek. “It’s because you let him do whatever he wants.”

“Do not!”

He chuckled, taking his time tracing your features. The curve of your cheekbones, the dip of your lips, the bridge of your nose-everything he’d kissed into his memory by now but still couldn’t get enough of.

Hinata’s heart burned bright as he ran his knuckles along your cheek, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You smiled softly, leaning subconsciously into his touch.

“I mean… I really love you, (Y/N).” Hinata grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips. “I think this is it.”

You met his stare for several moments before your cheeks reddened. “Oh.”

Hinata nodded, pressing a loving kiss to the back of your hand. “I just-I always want you with me and if it’s not you in the end then… then what’s the point?”

Your mouth fell slightly open and he felt your hand flex in his grasp. He assumed he made a mistake-said too much too fast-but his chest was so warm and full and it was hard to reign in his emotions when he got that way.

A smile blossomed across your face and it eased his anxieties when you held his cheek. “You’re it for me too, Sho.”

He blinked several times as the words rolled over in his mind. “Wha-really?” He twisted himself so he could look you in the eyes, begging for you to be telling the truth.

You nodded shyly, your face crimson. “Yeah. You have been. I’m not… I don’t think I’d be able to love anyone else ever again.”

It felt like he’d been hit by a train at your confession and he pressed his mouth against yours before he’d even processed the statement. Your content hum against his lips was enough to drive him insane.

“Well, I’m going to love you forever.” Hinata promised with a dopey smile. “So don’t even think about that.”

You snorted, but nodded anyway. Hinata glanced down at your lips again with hooded eyes and started leaning forward, but was rudely interrupted by a damp cardboard tube hitting his forehead.

He glanced up exhaustedly at the Shiba Inu puppy panting obliviously at the both of you, waiting patiently for the love and attention he knew he deserved. You pushed Hinata off to grab Deku, but he jumped into a play bow and jolted back when you reached for him.

Hinata smiled dazedly as you chased Deku around the apartment, juking around furniture to attempt to throw the puppy off-course. He had never felt so complete than he had in that moment because he realized that this was it for him.

It was you. It was him. It was a troublemaker dog. And it was a promise that you’d be together forever.

And that was pretty damn perfect.

#hinata shouyo #hinata shoyo #hinata shouyou #hinata shouyou x reader #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata shoyo x y/n #hinata shoyo headcanons #hinata shoyo fluff #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #msby black jackal #msby sakusa #miya atsumu #bokuto #kiyoko #tanaka ryuunosuke #haikyuu x reader

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ajbwasntwriting · 3 years

Text

To Serve and Protect (Bucky Barnes x Police!Fem!Reader)

the twd obsession has been interrupted since I’ve started watch TFATWS and have binged bucky fics like I was 15.

Summery: - Reader is an accomplished New York officer but an old case comes back in the shape of a super soldier in need of aid.

Warnings: - Light Spoilers for TFATWS, Cursing, mentions of Human Trafficking, flirty Bucky(kind of I tried)

You had just received your second medal of honor before the blip had occurred. When you came back, you were nearly arrested for breaking into what you had known as your apartment. Luckily, the situation was under control quickly. You had family just outside the city who were willing to support you until you got back on your feet but it still felt like a kick in the gut that your home was gone and you now had to learn a bunch of new skills to do with being a cop. Most of your friends had either died during the five years or had to move out of New York, and those who remained had moved on and didn’t seem to have time for you in their lives.

At least a few of your favourite places had stayed open, including what you thought was the best pizza joint in the state. You got dinner here most nights because it hadn’t changed. The tables still wobbled, the neon sign still buzzed from overuse, and Louis the owner still kept a couple slices of your favorite pie in the back for you.

“Please tell me the back booth is free” you sighed, taking the food from Louis.

“Long day, Detective?” Louis replied.

“New partner thinks I’m an idiot.” You mumble, taking a bite from the pie and burning your tongue.

“It’s clear,” Louis said sympathetically, nodding to the far side of the restaurant.

You slid into the small booth tucked out of the way, tucking into your pizza and soda. After your first slice you noticed a carving on the table. It was your initials plus A.S. equals epic. You smiled as you remembered your previous partner Aarush Sharma. You two had been friends since you joined the force and had come to this booth almost every break hour to fill up on pizza and terrible coffee.

“Detective L/N.” A gruff voice spoke to you. Judging by the shadow he casted over you, he was a big man.

“Look if your here to buy me off or intimidate me,” you snapped, “then you can fu-” you stopped short when you looked up. You recognised the man as James Buchanen Barnes instantly. “Oh,” you sighed with relief.

“You know me?” he asked you.

“Followed the Zemo case.” you explained. He visibly tensed at the mention of Zemo. You held up your hand to calm him. “I know you’ve been pardoned.” You suddenly remembered how your conversation with the Winter Soldier had begun “wait, how do you know me?”

“I need your help,” He spoke low, just so the two of you could hear. He slid opposite you in the booth, leaning forward on the table. “Two-thousand-fifteen, August seventh you filed a report on a human trafficking ring operating out of staten island.” You began eating your second slice of pizza as he talked. “You arrested the main perpetrators, with the exception of Donnie Morris and Frank Abara. You opened an investigation on them but it went cold two months later.” You nodded along to the story. “That’s because-”

“They’re Hydra? Real names Robert Bern and Josh Smith? And the trafficking was for human experimentation?” you interrupted him. He stared at you, just about concealing his surprise. “I was a good cop.” you finished off your pizza, wiping your mouth and looking away in shame. “Was.”

“Why’d you stop?” he asked.

“They threatened me.” You patted the flour off your hands and picked up your soda. “And when that didn’t work, they told my friends to stop me else their family would be hurt, so.” you slurped on your soda and stared back at him.

His piercing blue eyes were reading you like a book, pulling apart your disgust at never catching them, and trying to figure out how to use it to his advantage. He had to admit it was impressive that a normal police officer was able to get farther than he was, but you were still a normal person.

“I need to find them,” he spoke up.

“Why?” you cocked your eyebrow, soda straw still in your mouth. You had been studying his face to find any tell of malintent but the only conclusion you were drawing was that he was handsome as hell, and really good at hiding his tells.

“You don’t need to know.” he retorted. You hummed with discontent.

“See, Mr. Barnes. My job is to protect and serve. Sadly, that includes assholes.” You put down the now empty soda cup and leaned forward to match his position. “And you’ve said enough for me to arrest you under suspicion of planning to commit a crime against said assholes.” His glare hardened and his jaw tightened as he stared you down. “So please answer the question, ideally in a non-incriminating way.”

He looked and huffed, sliding back a little before fixing you with his stare again, but it wasn’t long until he was looking from his hands to the window, seemingly in defeat. “Their boss is dangerous. And I’m the one that made it so.” He forced a bitter smile finally looking back at you. “I’m trying to right as many wrongs as I can but I can’t find this guy but you.” he punctuated by pointing at you with his joined hands. You caught a glint of something metal up his sleeve that you suspect was his arm. “You came very, very close. Apparently, Closer than I thought you did.”

You mulled it over in your head for a moment before reaching into your breast pocket and pulling out your notepad. “Look, I don’t know what to tell you, Mr. Barnes” You looked over the restaurant between bouts of writing, talking all the while in case people were listening. “The case is closed and the records are public so everything you know is everything I know.” You quietly ripped off the piece of paper and pocketed the notebook, picking up your trash to disguise it. He took the hint and hid the paper by putting his hands down and sliding back in the booth, seemingly in defeat. “Good night, Mr. Barnes.” you said, and walked away, depositing your trash on your way out.

Bucky sat their a moment to give you a head start before stepping out himself, piece of paper in hand. As he walked home he opened the paper.

Tomorrow Seneca Village 23:35

Bucky stood in front of the plaque, mind too busy working through every horrible thing that could happen from this little stunt. He was about to run when he heard your voice. “Hey there.”

You walked over and stood next to him, stoically in your repose. You were wearing a pair of jeans and heeled boots with a fashionable jacket and a suitcase in hand. “I don't know which of us is stupider right now.”

“You could have picked a better meeting spot.” Bucky retorted, shifting uncomfortably.

“It’s horrifying,” you commented, putting the case down, Reading over the plaque. “Over two hundred lives ruined by a couple of assholes who wanted a park. Reminds me of another couple of assholes.”

“Yeah?” Bucky replied. You stood there a moment longer, thinking if you could still go back. You bit your tongue and decided having faith was the better bet.

“Burn it when you’re done.” you shot back and walked past him.

Bucky noticed the case just outside his line of vision. He picked it up and walked away from the plaque, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible despite the case not really matching his attire.

You didn’t hear anything for a couple weeks after the impromptu meeting, having handed over every piece of evidence that had been sitting in your self storage since 2015. Each minute was spent biting your nails with stress, hoping your actions didn’t come back to bite you in the ass. Then the news came on, publicizing that Robert Bern and Josh Smith had been arrested ‘after it was discovered they were connected to a human trafficking ring in New Jersey and a former operation in Staten Island.’

“Looks like somebody did your job for you.”

“Shut up, Louis.” you quip back at him, nursing a terrible cup of coffee. The restaurant was near empty aside from yourself, Louis, a trio of loud drunk women in the corner and a homeless man who had scraped cents together to buy a slice of pizza. The TV above the kitchen archway providing most of the ambiance.

“What’s got you in a mood?” he asked as he cleaned.

“Ever been ditched on a blind date? I get all dolled up,” you opened your coat to show a figure hugging dress with a low neckline, coupled with an elegant necklace. “And the asshole texts me when I’m already at the lounge saying he needs a fucking rain check.”

“Okay, well he’s an ass-”

“Right!” you exclaim.

“But you need to stop scowling before you scare off my customers.” Louis playfully chided.

“Oh, cause there’s so many of them.” you waved a hand out at the restaurant to emphasize your point. Still you leaned over your coffee to stew in your own misery. You couldn’t hear the door open over the women’s third rendition of ‘I’m every woman’ but you noticed someone slide onto the bar stool next to you. You turned your head to see Bucky looking back.

“Have I seen you here before?” Bucky said playfully.

You chuckled involuntarily and sat up on your stool. “You must be mistaking me with someone else.”

He swiveled on the stool to face you fully, leaning on the counter comfortably. “You sure?” he seemed to be playing with you, a sly smirk on his face. “Could’ve sworn I met this detective lady here who looked a lot like you.”

“Was she pretty?” You pressed, a smile now sneaking it’s way onto your face without you knowing.

Bucky looked in your eyes with a soft sincerity. “Incredibly,”

You laughed nervously as you looked away and into the pool of your coffee. “Was that before or after she helped you with your job.” You deflected.

“About that,” Bucky leaned onto the counter. He was still quiet good at hiding his tells but you got the impression he was nervous by the pause. “You gave me more than I needed so I was able to do better than I planned. I know how hard it can be to trust someone. I'm not sure how to thank you for that.”

“Take her on a date!” Louis yelled from the kitchen, looking at you two through the serving window. “She’s already all ‘dolled up’” Louis mocked you.

“Keep cleaning!” you shot back. “Ignore him. He’s just dripping with sympathy since I got ditched.”

“I mean,” Bucky started, you looked over and saw him staring at his hands with nerves as his thumbs tapped against each other. “I just wouldn’t know where to take you.” he admitted under his breath.

A question instantly plagued your mind and it demanded to be asked. “Have you not...since nineteen-fifty?”

Bucky nodded with pursed lips. “You can laugh.”

You smiled at the super soldier. “Right,” you announced, pushing yourself off the stool. “Come on, I know a great dive three down.”

“A dive?” Bucky asked in disbelief, but he was still smiling.

“Yep. Where they don’t give a shit who you are as long as you're buying.” You fixed your jacket with new found enthusiasm. “You are buying, right?”

“For a doll like you,” He stood up from the stool. “I’ll buy the bar.” he held the door as you both left the little pizzeria

“Oh honey, there’s nothing like me.” you said playfully as you stepped out the door.

“Then I must be the luckiest man in the world,” he flirted, offering you his arm. You slide your hand in, curling your wrist around his bicep and off you both went.

#bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #tfatws #tftws #reader x bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #james barnes #reader x bucky barnes #fem!reader #fem!reader x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x fem!reader #remale reader #reader insert #mcu reader insert #mcu bucky #mcu bucky barnes

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originalhybridloverfics · 3 years

Text

Ch3 You Are To This Day The Only Woman I Have Ever Loved

Selin was running out of options. Her every attempt to get rid of Eda had failed and now she could barely get her alone.

What the fuck was she going to do? How the hell was she going to get rid of Eda and that damn baby she was carrying?

How was she going to keep Serkan now that he seemed to remember everything?

How do you keep someone who was never yours, to begin with?

What did she have to do to matter to him the way Eda mattered?

What the hell was it that made Serkan believed Eda was the perfect person for him when logically it was her who was perfect for him.

He said it himself once that logically they made sense. She just needed Serkan to see that she was it for him and accept it.

However, Eda needed to be completely out of the picture if that was going to happen.

Maybe her only option left was to ensure that Eda got into a horrific car accident. She needed something that couldn’t be tied back to her. Something that wasn’t suspicious.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The next time Eda woke up she was less disoriented. She looked at Serkan in surprise to see him. “Serkan, what are you doing here?”

“I told you,” Serkan sat gently beside her and placed his hand tenderly against her cheek. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

Eda shook her head, her heart lurching in her chest. “That was just a dream. It wasn’t real. You don’t want to be here with me. You-”

“There is nowhere else I would rather be than right here. With you.” Serkan cut her off firmly. “Eda, I remember everything. Every single moment with you. From the moment we met to when we said goodbye on our wedding day.”

Tears filled Eda’s eyes. “Don’t play with me Serkan, I couldn’t handle such a cruel joke,”

His thumb brushed away a stray tear. It hurt to think she thought him capable of such cruelty. “I know I have been hurtful and unkind since I came back, especially to you. I hate myself for it but I can promise you those days are over. I, the man who loves you more than anything would never set out to cause you pain or hurt you. Intentionally or otherwise. I hope you can forgive me and allow me to spend the rest of our lives making up for every mean word I said or action I did that caused you pain.” Serkan reached in his jacket, pulling her ring from his pocket, staring into her eyes, he took her hand and slipped the ring back on her finger. "I hope you don't mind that I had Layla ordered it fixed while you were out."

Her engagement flower ring was no longer the necklace he turned into and was resting perfectly on her finger once again.

“I love you,” Eda said, her voice filled with emotion. “And I still want to grow old with you and spend all my days with you by my side.”

“Good.” Serkan reached up to his shirt and lifted a chain from his neck, removing the ring and carefully back onto his finger, tears gathering in his own eyes as a feeling of rightness filled him. He leaned forward pressing his lips against her forehead and then, moving down to press a kiss to her cheek, he moved to her lips, brushing his lips across hers in a feather-light caress.

The door to her room opened and a throat cleared. Serkan pulled back to see Eda’s doctor entering the room. “Ms. Yilmaz, you’re awake. That’s good to see.”

“We’ve been monitoring you closely since you were brought in by your friend. Luckily, she found you when she did. Without her, I am quite certain you could have bled out. You had some broken bones, cracked ribs, and a concussion. You had some swelling on the blade but we've been monitoring it closely and has gone down on its own. Now, I’m sure you’re worried for the baby so we’re going to get them checked out,” he moved toward an ultrasound machine willing it closer to the bed.

Eda’s eyes widened. “Baby? What baby?”

“You didn’t know?” Dr. Kaya asked in surprise.

“No,” Eda looked at Serkan, eyes wide and lips parted. “I didn’t know. I would’ve told you.” she looked back Dr. Kaya. “The baby, is it..is it...it’s-” She broke off, letting out a shuddering breath.

She couldn’t even voice the question, tears gathered in her eyes and she used her good arm that wasn't injured to wrap around her middle. “Serkan, I can’t do this.”

Serkan’s heart dropped to his stomach. She didn’t want his child. He knows he was terrible and he hurt her but this was their baby.

“I can’t lose anyone else, let alone our baby, I won’t survive it. I won’t.” she shook her head, trying to be strong but failing as she felt her chest crack open with pain.

Relief hit Serkan. She wanted their child. She was scared of losing their child. He was too. He put his hand over hers on her stomach locking their fingers together. “You’re not alone. Whatever happens, we’ll get through it together. You are a fighter and I have no doubt you’ve passed that on to our child. Everything is going to be okay.”

Eda nodded and Dr. Kaya gave them a moment to compose themselves before preparing Eda for the ultrasound. “If we can locate the baby’s heartbeat, there’s no reason to believe you won’t have a perfectly healthy baby.”

Eda held on tightly to Serkan’s hand with her good one. Serkan stepped closer his hand tightening around hers in response. They were both holding their breath collectively.

The room was silent. Tears filled Eda’s eyes.

Serkan's jaw clenched. It was taking too long and he didn’t like the look in Dr. Kaya's eyes.

The doctor looked up with an apologetic look. “I’m sor-”

Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.

Eda’s eyes widened as the fast rhythmic beat filled the room.

The doctor sighed inaudibly in relief. “And that there is your baby’s heartbeat.”

“Is it meant to be that fast?” Serkan asked, alarmed.

“Yes, it’s the sound of a strong heartbeat. It’s a good sign.” Dr. Kaya assured. “Now let’s see if we can find this survivor.”

Eda looked at the screen anxiously for just a moment and then her breath left her.

The picture of her baby on the grainy screen was so clear.

The shape of her baby, the tiny little body, the head, the moving arms, and legs.

Eda pressed her hand to her mouth overcome with emotion, she looked at Serkan to see he had tears in his eyes.

“Serkan?” she asked.

He looked down at her and smiled the most beautiful smile she has ever seen from him. “I can’t believe we did that. I can’t believe we’re having a baby.”

Eda reached up cupping his cheek. “We’re having a baby!” she smiled widely.

Serkan couldn’t stop himself, he ducked down kissing her with all the emotion he was feeling, and pressed his forehead against hers. “I love you.”

Eda wrapped her arm around his shoulders, and buried her face in his neck, breathing him in, crying silently. It was so good to hear him say those words to her again. She missed it. She missed him.

She couldn’t believe her Serkan was back.

“Everything seems to be fine,” Dr. Kaya said, bringing their attention back to her as they parted slowly but held onto each other's hands, constantly touching. “I want to keep you for a few days as a precaution while you recover then we will talk about sending you home.”

Eda nodded.

“Now, do you think you can tell me about your accident? What do you remember?” Dr. Kaya questioned.

“I was getting ready to leave when Selin-” Eda’s eyes widened. “Oh my God, Se-” Eda gasped in pain when she jolted forward. “Selin, it was Selin.”

“What was Selin?” Serkan asked, urging her to lay back. “Take it easy.”

“Selin pushed me,” Eda said, looking at him.

“What?” Serkan faltered.

“I know you don’t want to believe it because it’s Selin and you trust her,” Eda began, remembering Serkan not believing Selin capable of doing anything wrong. “But she pushed me down the stairs.” she grabbed Serkan’s hands and looked up at him. “You have to believe me.”

Serkan cupped her cheek. “I do. I do believe you.”

Now that he had his memories back he was aware of Selin’s manipulations, how she took advantage of the situation. She had so much to answer for.

But to think she was capable of trying to kill Eda was disgusting.

He didn’t even know her anymore and it made him wonder, did he ever truly know her?

“You believe me,” Eda’s words were full of surprise.

“I do and I will take care of it-”

A knock sounded on the door and a lab technician in a white coat walked into the room with a grave. “Dr. Kaya, I think you should see this.”

Dr. Kaya took the extended file, the doctor’s frown deepening.

“What’s wrong?” Serkan asked alarmed, Eda’s hand tightened around his, clinging to him.

“Ms. Yildiz your blood shows you have traces of a rare substance that causes a person to go into cardiac arrest. It’s a hard substance to come by and nearly undetectable but it explains while suddenly took a turn for the worse last night when you were doing better.”

“I’m sorry but how could that have happened when I’ve been here?” Eda asked.

“I don’t know but I promise we will get to the bottom of this,” Dr. Kaya assured.

“You better,” Serkan growled. “Or I will and I won’t hesitate to sue this hospital for neglecting my Fiance’s safety.”

“What about the baby?” Eda asked. “Could it have caused harm to the baby?”

“No,” Dr. Kaya shook her head. “Every indication we have seen is that your baby is perfectly healthy.”

Serkan felt fear and instinctively placed his hand over her flat stomach. “You're sure?”

“As sure as I medically can be,” she answered. “And as I said before I would like to keep her for a few days to monitor her and the baby just to be on the safe side.”

“Okay, but I expect her security to be better and I want you to treat her like she is your number one priority cause she is.”

“And what are you going to do?” Eda asked.

“I am going to take care of everything with Selin.” Serkan’s eyes were dark. He leaned down pressing his lips to Eda’s forehead. “I won’t let her hurt you again.”

Eda nodded silently. She was more than capable of taking care of herself but it was a relief that she wouldn’t have to argue about Selin with him.

He stepped away just as there was a knock on the door, Selin poked her head in. “Serkan, there you are. I think we should be going now,” she looked at Eda. “It’s clear Eda is going to be okay.”

“Yes,” Serkan forced a smile. “We have much to discuss. Today has shown me that life is short and we shouldn’t put off the things that mattered.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Selin moved, and wrapped her arms around him.

Serkan slowly brought his arms around her. It was the last thing he wanted to do. He looked over at Eda.

There was pain there in her expression, in her eyes.

“Trust me.” he mouthed to her.

Slowly she nodded, she did trust him but it didn’t make seeing Selin in his arms any easier.

Serkan released Selin and tugged her out of the room. Eda wasn’t sure what he was planning but this was her Serkan now, it wouldn’t be long before she found out what the punishment would be for Selin's crimes.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Selin was surprised Serkan had left the hospital when he had been so adamant about staying by Eda’s side and when it had to seemed to her that he was starting to remember his life with Eda. Perhaps she read him wrong.

She walked with him into Art Life but stopped when Serkan froze.

Serkan stared at the bottom of the stairs. Blood stained the floor. Eda’s blood.

His eyes slowly traveled up the flight of stairs, the very thought that Eda was pushed and she fell that far was awful made worse knowing in her stomach rested their child and the woman beside him, someone he once thought a close friend was the one to do it. She had tried to take the only thing he couldn’t live without. His bright star in a sea of darkness

“Serkan is everything okay?” Selin asked, in what sounded like concern but he now saw through it. Through her.

Just looking at her made his stomach turn but he had to keep up the act. It would be worth it.

He shook his head. “Fine, you know, how I hate stains.”

“Let me make some calls I will have it taken care of,” Selin said and stepped over the stain, heading to her office.

Serkan turned. One destination in mind. He needed to check the company footage.

He walked into his office, pulling up his computer he put in his password and login to the company’s security feed, he rewound the footage at the top of the stairs back until he stopped it on the two figures, standing at the top of the stairs.

Eda and Selin.

He looked up to make sure Selin wasn’t coming back yet before pressing play. He kept the volume low as to not alert Selin to what he was doing.

He watched Eda and Selin’s argument play out, their words cut and biting. He paled as he watches Eda turned to walk down the stairs and Selin’s hand slamming against her back, propelling his Eda forward.

Eda's fall was brutal and painful to watch.

His stomach churned violently in disgust as Selin showed no regret or remorse for what she did. instead, she walked down the stairs and over Eda’s crumpled body and kept going.

He fast forward, his heart pounding. How long did she lay there, hurt and bleeding, fighting to survive?

Almost an hour later in the footage, Melo, arrived and immediately was distraught, pleading with Eda.

God, he couldn’t watch anymore.

He quickly exited the footage and grabbed the drive on his desk copying the footage. He heard the sound of heels on the floor just as it was done and quickly ejected it, slipping it into his pocket. He shut his computer just as Selin appeared in the doorway.

“Did you find the papers you needed to go over?” She asked.

Serkan had to force his disgust down beneath the surface along with his anger.

It was so fucking hard. How could he have trusted her so blindly? Clearly, he had damaged his brain more than he first thought.

“Yes,” he grabbed the folders next to his laptop. “Unfortunately we need to make a trip back to the hospital. There are some legal documents that I need to finalize. They need Eda’s signature. Hopefully, she is feeling well enough to sign.”

“Can’t this wait?” Selin protested. “We’ve been there all night.”

“I’m sorry. It can’t. We’ll go there have her sign then we can leave and go grab something to eat, take some time to ourselves for the rest of the day,” he reached for her hand, every fiber in his being was against the simple touch but he had a part to play and he needed her to believe everything was the same. He needed her to trust him. “Sound good?”

Selin smiled, enjoying the simple touch she curled her hand around his. “Yes. Perhaps we can begin to plan the wedding and set a date?”

“Absolutely, if that’s what you want.” The words did not come easy but he hopes she did not notice.

“Okay, let’s go back to the hospital so we can then focus on us,” she leaned up and press her lips to his cheek.

Serkan resisted the urge to push her away and wipe his skin clean where her lips touched.

He forced a smile and tugged her out of the office with him. Repeatedly telling himself to keep up the act. He just needed to gather all the evidence he could against her before revealing that he remembered everything and make her pay for trying to take his life, his Eda, his unborn child away from him.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Eda’s hand rested on her stomach lightly.

“Did you know?” her aunt asked softly sitting beside her on the bed.

“No,” Eda shook her head. “I wouldn’t have believed it myself but I heard the heartbeat and I saw the baby on the screen. Serkan and I are having a child.”

Ayfer smiled. “I hope being a mother brings joy to your life as much as you have brought joy to mine.”

Eda squeezed her aunt’s hand. “I hope I will be a good mom,”

“You will,” Ayfer assured. “You and Serkan will be the best parents.”

“Is it true? Does Serkan remember?” Melo stood beside Ayfer.

“He does. He remembers everything.” Eda assured her.

“Then why did he leave with Selin?” Melo wondered.

“I think he’s playing her, trying to get her to confess to what she did,” Eda answered. “But I think she’s too smart for that. She won’t openly confess.”

“Then what will he do?” Melo asked. “We can’t let her get away with hurting you again and again. She’s gone too far this time. She's gone crazy.”

“I don’t know,” Eda said. “But I trust that Serkan will make sure Selin faces the consequences of her actions.”

“She tried to kill you,” Ceren interjected on the other side of her bed. “He’s going to do everything in his power to make sure she can’t do it again. He loves you too much to stand by and let her get away with all that she has done.”

Eda was fully aware of how much her Serkan loved her. She hoped when this was all over they could move on and he wouldn’t blame himself for Selin’s crimes.

She did not want a repeat of when it came to his father’s crimes. She didn't want him making decisions about their relationship for her.

Sometime later a knock sounded and the door to her room was being pushed open.

Eda’s smiled as Serkan came into the room but quickly faded as Selin came into the room close behind him.

Her whole body tensed and she had the intense urge to curl up and protect her stomach.

“Eda, I know now must not be a good time but we need you to sign some documents for a project,” Serkan said, walking forward and handing her some papers.

“Eda, I am so sorry about your accident,” Selin apologized. “Do you remember how it happened?”

“No,” she lied. “I think I slipped. I can’t remember much about that night.” Eda looked at Melo. “I was lucky Melo found me in time before I bled out.”

Selin looked over at Melo. "How fortunate that you were there,"

"Very." Melo returned icily.

Selin forced down a sneer, plastering on a pleasant smile. "I do hope everything is okay," She looked back at Eda. "I'm sorry about the baby."

Serkan first clenched and he counted down in his head forcing himself to remain calm.

"My baby is going to be fine," Eda raised her chin. "They're a survivor like their mother."

"That's wonderful news, I'm sure when you tell Deniz he will be relieved." Selin forced her voice to stay polite.

"I'm sure he would be except he is not the father." Eda couldn't help but feel good about the angry look that crossed Selin's face.

It was quick but she couldn't cover it fast enough. Eda couldn't wait for her to pay for every despicable act Selin has committed against her and Serkan and now her child.

Selin looked from Serkan and Eda. “I see, then we have much to discuss. Of course, it should wait until after your out of the hospital.”

“Selin, why don’t you get us some coffee. The quicker we can get these papers signed, the better. There is much work to be done and we shouldn’t bother Eda while she heals longer than we have to. We'll have plenty of time to talk about this once she’s out of the hospital.” Serkan suggested.

He pulled out his phone. “We have more meetings to attend to according to my event calendar.”

Melo's phone pinged in her bag, she retrieved it to see a text from Serkan and realized he was using the excuse of looking at his calendar to discreetly text her.

She opened the text.

Go with Selin and keep her occupied for as long as possible. Don’t let her leave your sight.

“Of course, I’ll be right back, my love,” Selin said, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

“I will go with you,” Melo interjected. “I think we all can use some coffee after the stress of last night. Except for Eda, of course. It isn't good for the baby.”

Selin forced a smile and led the way out of the room.

Melo followed her out, sending a smile at Serkan over her shoulder. She will do as he asks of her.

As soon as they were gone, Serkan tossed the documents onto the hospital tray next to Eda’s bed.

“Don’t I need to sign those?” Eda asked.

“No, I just needed to come back here and not raise Selin’s suspicions. I found footage at the office of her pushing you. And I think I can find proof that she was the one who drugged you last night. I’ll be right back if Selin returns before I do tell her I got a call and I went to take it in my car because of the hospital’s poor cell reception.”

“I’m coming with you,” said Ceren following him out, wanting to help in some way.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Serkan had ended up arguing with security for a few minutes before Ceren stepped in and with her legal knowledge convinced them to let them take a look at the footage.

Serkan watched the security footage of the hallway outside Eda’s room, Selin walked into the screen. He was asleep outside her door, leaning against the floor.

She looked around, the time stamp of the footage place it at 3:37 in the morning. When Selin saw the coast was clear she opened her hand to reveal a small vial. She turned the doorknob and pushed it open and disappeared inside Eda’s room, the door closing behind her.

Serkan pulled out his hard drive and plug it in, copying the hospital security footage. “I have footage of her pushing Eda down the stairs, with this new footage, is it enough to get her for attempted manslaughter?”

“Yes, and if you press charges on grounds for cruelty and emotional abuse for her manipulations Selin will not be getting away with anything that she has done,” Ceren answered.

“Good,” Serkan ejected the drive and pulled out his phone, calling the authorities, determined to make sure Selin would not hurt Eda in any way again.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Serkan and Ceren returned to Eda’s room just in time because a few minutes later, Selin and Melo returned.

“Here you go,” Selin held a cup of hot coffee out toward Serkan. “I got it just how you like. Should we start discussing everything that needs to be addressed?”

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Serkan stepped away from her, moving to sit on the edge of Eda’s bed, taking her hand in his and lacing their fingers together. “How about we start with how you tried to kill Eda and my child?”

“What? I no,” Selin shook her head. “I would never do something like that. Serkan, you are not making sense.”

“Last night, I remembered everything,” Serkan said, his eyes growing cold. “When Eda's health abruptly started declining, her heart stopped. I felt it,” he placed his free hand over his heart. “No one, especially you, will ever truly understand the depth of our connection. Our hearts are connected, our souls are meant for each other. One should not exist without the other.”

Tears filled Eda’s eyes as he spoke so passionately.

“When I saw her slipping away from me to somewhere I wouldn’t be able to reach her it all came rushing back to me like a tidal wave, one memory after another from the first moment I laid eyes on her to the moment we said goodbye on our wedding day to every moment in between when I fell for her continuously. There is no one in this world who my heart beats for but her. These past months I felt like something was missing, a vital piece was missing. I didn’t know what it was but I do now.”

Serkan released Eda's hand and stood walking toward Selin. “And you knew.”

Selin wiped all emotion from her face at the accusatory words and look of anger Serkan was giving her.

“When I was hurt and vulnerable and couldn’t remember the most valuable thing in my life, you saw it as an opportunity to insert yourself into my life, to take advantage of my injury and take my life away from me.” Serkan looked at her in disgust. “You twisted my and Eda’s story around to make her out to be this horrible, manipulative person when in truth that is the person that you are.”

Selin glared. “I was given a second chance to do things differently. We were given a chance to be happy together and I took it.” Selin stepped forward, reaching out to Serkan. “You were happy with me, Serkan. Your memory loss has proven that we can be happy when Eda isn’t in your life.”

“Is that why you tried to kill me?” Eda demanded. “To get me out of Serkan’s life so you can continue living a lie?”

“I didn’t try to kill you.” Selin denied.

“You pushed me down the stairs,” Eda said. “I remember that night clearly.”

“You remembered wrong.” Selin insisted realizing Eda had lied earlier when she said she didn't remember what happened. “You hit your head and are confused.”

“You’re right she did hit her head.” Serkan agreed, his tone sharp like a knife. “However, you are the reason for that and we have proof.”

That caught Selin by surprise. “What?”

“You seem to have forgotten about the cameras at work. There is footage of your argument and more importantly of you shoving Eda down the stairs with intent to hurt her. You walk away after, leaving her to bleed out.”

“No,” Selin shook her head in denial. “The footage was doctored.”

“And the footage of you going into Eda’s room last night to drug her with something that would kill her, knowing she was pregnant was that doctored too?” Ceren interjected.

“We have everything on the footage to put you away for a long time.” Ayfer, swept her hand over Eda protectively while glaring at Selin. “You will not get away with this.”

“I will not stand here and listen to these ridiculous allegations.” Selin turned around but stopped short as two officers walked in. “Ms. Atakin, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of Eda Yildiz.”

“Don’t worry, Selin,” Eda said. “There will be more charges brought up. It’s time you pay for your wrongful actions.”

“There’s some kind of mistake, this is all a misunderstanding.” Selin insisted as the cops turned her around and placed her in handcuffs. “Please, Serkan.” Selin looked at him pleadingly. “If I mean anything to you at all, don’t let this happen.”

"You mean nothing to me at all." Serkan turned his back to her and sat down beside Eda, lifting his hand to her cheek directing her gaze toward him. “I need you to know something,”

Eda looked at him, Selin forgotten, even as she resisted arrest, seething.

Serkan brushed his thumb across her cheek, reverently and Eda’s breath caught in her throat at the pure look of love in his eyes. “You are to this day the only woman I have ever loved.”

Selin stopped moving the honesty in Serkan’s words making every inside turn to something dark. "I hate you. I hate you both." she seethed as the police finally had her in cuffs, leading her out.

“I have never been in love before you and I know you have ruined me for anyone else, Eda Yildiz. I am incapable of loving anyone but you. Everything I am, every part of me is yours.”

Eda smiled, happy tears in her eyes, she lifted her good hand, curling it around the back of his neck, and pulled him down so their lips could meet in a kiss that had every part of her coming to life.

Eda and Serkan were so consumed by each other that neither noticed as Eda’s aunt and friends walked from the room, leaving the reunited couple alone.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

For the next month Eda focused on her recovery, Serkan hired the best lawyers for their case against Selin pushing the trial through the system faster.

Thankfully, it only lasted a few weeks and with all the evidence stacked up against her, Selin still refused to confess to her crimes but it didn’t matter in the end she was convicted of Attempted Murder on Eda and their unborn child, and for emotional cruelty on Serkan.

She was sentenced to 10 to fifteen years in prison with no chance of parole.

Eda was relieved and Serkan did everything he could to erase traces of Selin from his life. he hired a new PR, threw all her things in the trash, and severed ties with her completely.

Serkan stayed with Eda every day she was in the hospital, leaving Engin and Piril to handle everything with the company.

When Eda was finally released he took her home back to his house.

Eda had only been there a little over a month but she wasn’t sure she could continue staying there. “You need a new apartment.” she sat on the counter as Serkan was making her lunch. “I keep picturing you and Selin here and I just, I can’t. I hate even thinking about that murderous snake.”

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you about that.” Serkan set the pasta he was cooking to a simmer and came to stand between her legs, he rested one hand on her stomach that had popped, showing the evidence of their growing child, and uses his other hand to brush her hair back away from her face. “I want to get a new place when the baby is born. For all of us. You, me, and the baby.”

“I always thought we would get a place together after we got married,” Eda replied in surprise.

“Yes but that was before you got pregnant. I thought you would want to get married after she’s born.”

“She?” Eda repeated. “You think it’s a girl?”

“I keep picturing a little girl in our future,” Serkan confessed with a shy smile. “The boy can come later.”

In truth, Eda wanted a little girl, too.

“Serkan, I was ready to marry you on our wedding day. I still am. We could get married today, tomorrow, a year for now and it wouldn’t change anything.” Eda said, tracking the ring that was once again gracing his finger. “My love for you isn’t going to change.”

“Then let’s get married,” Serkan said, gathering her against his body, pressing his forehead against hers. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Eda repeated cradling his face with her good hand.

“Yes, tomorrow. Haven’t we waited long enough? I want to be able to call you my wife. Mrs. Eda Bolat.”

“I love the sound of that,” Eda pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss. “Let’s do it. Let’s get married.”

Serkan wrapped his arm around her and lifted her from the counter carrying her to the couch, pressing her back into the cushions mindful of her casted arm and keeping his weight off her, deepening their kiss his hands worshipping her body.

#sen cal kapimi #edser #edser fic #eda yıldız #serkan bolat #serkan x eda #fanfic

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spectrumed · 3 years

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8. book

I decided to start writing a book. A novel, it’s going to be fiction. It’s a big project. I dread big projects. I don’t feel as if I am ever able to complete them. It’s going to be left unfinished, why do I even bother? So many projects that I’ve started and never finished. I get an idea, then I can’t make myself do the actual work to make it a reality. Why do I think I can write a book when I can barely read books without becoming distracted and doing something else instead? I give up too easily. But, then again, do I really have it in me to produce something that is good? That people would want to read? Insecurity creeps in, telling me that I will fail. I fear failure. Of course I do, who doesn’t? Whenever people say that their greatest fear is failure, all I wonder is who out there is not afraid of failure? Is there someone out there with so much confidence that they absolutely do not in any way fear failure? Even narcissists technically fear failure, it is what leads them to such ridiculous overcompensation, putting on the facade of bravado to mask their actual dire sense of insecurity. Do not fall for the scams, no person is truly without self-doubt. (Well, I guess maybe psychopaths, but there’s a whole lot of things amiss with them.)

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve entertained myself by coming up with stories, fictional universes that I would populate with characters of my own invention. When I was a kid, what I really wanted was to become a comic book writer and artist. Well, in between other gigs I imagined would suit me, including at one point wanting to be a “singing farmer,” as I put it. Still, I’ve always returned to fiction and storytelling. There’s something about creating a world that lets you so fully distract yourself from all the stressful daily hullabaloo that goes on around you. Escapism, it’s fun, it’s therapeutic, I think. There’s a reason why humans have been telling each other stories for millennia, since even before we lived in houses. Back when we were all huddled around the fire, wearing our best comfortable animal furs, sharing tales of the hunt. Your uncle who once took part in killing a mammoth, the impressive beast nearly gorging him with its big tusks. How clever he was when he noticed that the mammoth had one leg weaker than the others, and used that to his advantage. How the entire hunting party banded together to bring the behemoth down, getting all that meat to feed their families with for months! Stories make you feel good. Like as if you have something to celebrate, even when you might be starving due to the more recent hunts not having gone as well. Damn that saber-tooth tiger that killed your uncle…

Storytelling is linked to acting. Both with acting and with storytelling you have to commit. Whatever you are doing, whatever role you are performing, you have to sell it. You may be on stage talking about that time you went scuba diving with your future wife, and how you encountered an oyster with the most magnificent pearl inside, and how you made a ring for the pearl and used it when you proposed to her. You have to sell it. You have to get the audience laughing, gasping, crying, going “aww,” feeling as if they were there with you that day. Of course, they don’t know it is all just lies. You made it up. It’s all fiction. But you committed, so they won’t ever know. Storytelling is a gift to others, people will appreciate you if you tell good stories, but you’re also kinda deviant. Even if it’s technically based on a true story, you’ve certainly added your embellishments. You’re a trickster, a devious individual. No wonder actors have historically been seen as dubious folks. They come into town, romances all the young women and men, telling them big tales of their lives on the road, and they can’t possibly know if you are telling the truth or not. You may just be lying. You probably are lying. Let’s be honest, you’ve probably not told a single true thing in your life.

I am bad at the hustle. No, I can talk quite well, and I can keep people’s attention for a long while. But I can’t be a huckster. Going out there, putting myself on the line hoping people will swallow my bullshit. I can’t really avoid speaking from my heart when I do speak. Or when I write, as I happen to be doing now. This blog has so far been thoroughly candid in places, in such a way I may come across like I’m at a confessional. Not that I have much evil to confess, but I can’t help but be transparent. I can’t flip into different kinds of personalities, each with its own schemes and plots, being some master manipulator, someone who you can never figure out what they're truly up to, or what they truly want. No, what I am is clearly written on my face. I’ve got one self, and it is the one before you. He’s hairy, and tall, and a bit of a dork. I am happy to talk to you, to engage with you, but I won’t be anyone but myself. I am me. I hope that’ll do.

Of course you are familiar with all those pick-up artists that plagues the internet. Or well, not just the internet. Go into any old-fashioned bookstore (where they store books on paper, not in digital code,) and you are bound to find some sleazy book written by a sleazy guy about how to sleazily seduce women. Those books don’t want you acting like me. According to them, seduction is all about manipulation. To figure out the very right thing to say to get women to fawn all over you. They don’t want you to be sincere, telling the truth as you see it. Nah, you gotta keep that stuff bottled up, deep down inside your soul, because most likely, your true self is ugly. It’s interesting how you can get little details from these pick-up artists depending on the sort of things they say, the tips they provide. The fact that all of them seem to harbour this festering misogyny is no big surprise, but every so often, you get these little glimpses of these people’s true worldview, one where power is everything, true love is a fallacy, and happiness is a lie manufactured by Hollywood to make us all into docile consumers. No wonder the “red-pill” so often leads to people taking the “black-pill.” First hucksters will lure you in, telling you that they’ve got the secret as to how to be a success, then when they’ve got you isolated, they reveal to you how truly misanthropic and bleak their actual beliefs are.

I am fascinated with cults, for much of the same reason why I am fascinated with storytelling. What is a cult leader if not just a great storyteller? They’re something like the modern day shaman, capable of spellbinding people with their weird idiosyncratic way of speaking. High-functioning people with autism are often said to have an idiosyncratic way of speaking. No, I am not suggesting that cult leaders are all somewhere on the spectrum, though it wouldn’t surprise me if some famous cult leaders did turn out to have been on the spectrum. However, for an autistic person to become a cult leader, I think they would have to be a true believer, and not some fraud just looking to scam others. Ultimately, no autistic person would want to surround themselves with people unless they truly do believe it is essential, to like, save mankind from damnation or something. It’s the difference between sincerity and insincerity. It is difficult for autistic people to be insincere, as insincerity requires a lot of social skills that autistic people struggle with. Having to juggle all these balls in the air, making sure you keep the big lie going, that you remember to change your behaviour depending on who you are speaking to in order to keep them from figuring out that you’re a bullshitter. Hollow people are great at being insincere. People like L. Ron Hubbard, the founder of the highly profitable cult that is Scientology, was at his core a hollow individual. He had no problems twisting the minds of the people around him, because he never felt a need to be sincere. If an autistic person were to become a cult leader, I can guarantee you that it wouldn’t be a profitable cult. Nah, autistic people aren’t in it for the money, we’re all about keeping it real.

Being a sincere person, surely I should be able to write a novel and make it feel earnest. Like it was delivered with passion, because I wouldn’t be able to write anything that wasn’t true to myself. Well, I do hope so. Having something I’ve made be referred to as genuine is something I see as a great compliment. I’m a student of art history, I’ve made some “serious” art before, I know how terrible art can be when it is not delivered with good faith. Sure, some art is cynical, or ironic, but even then, it tends to come from a real place. Good artists, even when they’re fully armed with the dada mindset, must believe in what they are doing. Whether they are doing it for a laugh or not, that’s irrelevant. Even if all you wish is to be silly and make something that is comical, you have to believe in what you are creating. Or else people won’t bother engaging with it. Why look at a painting by someone who is just interested in making money? Insincere artists do exist, and they can end up becoming quite successful, but ultimately, history won’t be kind to them. Damien Hirst comes to mind, heard he's into NFTs now.

Sure, I don’t like insincere people. Does that make me a bigot? Like, it’s not as if they can help themselves. It’s just who they are, spineless maggots with no soul. It doesn’t mean we have to hate them. No, no, no... I am just generalising. Don’t go thinking there’s just two kinds of people in the world, the sincere and the insincere. It’s not a binary. Most people are both, just like with introverts and extroverts, humans are complex. But there are definitely those that decide to feed into their insincere side, realising that it is often the key to success. Through insincerity, you learn to let go of self-doubt, you stop worrying so much about what others think of you, because you are never truly yourself. If they hate you, then so what? They don’t actually hate you, they just hate a role that you are playing. So what if you seduced that woman, made her feel as if you were the perfect match, then you ghosted her and completely forgot about her? It’s her fault for falling for your tricks. You were clearly just playing the game, being a super-seducer, she should have known better. By embracing insincerity, it’s like gaining a superpower. No longer do you have to care about the impact you have on others, no longer do you have to worry about what it means to be a social human being making choices that affect the others around you. Because you’re not the person they think you are. Actually, you’re not quite sure you’re the person you think you are… Who are you?

I’ve got the plot all laid out in my head for the novel. It’s going to be based in the fantasy world that I’ve been working on for the last few years. I’ve been working on this world for almost half a decade now, come to think of it. Why do I keep feeling as if I am never able to keep to a project, when I’ve clearly been working on a massive project all this time? Sure, it’s all just in my head, but it’s not as if most people have the kind of patience to keep going back to a single big project, even if it is just in their head. Not once, while thinking about my fantasy world have I been distracted and started thinking about cute puppies, instead. And you know how difficult that is. Maybe I am too hard on myself. Maybe I will finish this book, and maybe people will want to read it. Maybe it will even get a minimal number of angry reviews, like, I may get a book published without some folks trying to harass me into committing suicide for daring to think I can write. Some people may even be enthusiastic, blowing up my ego with great praise. Maybe someone will come along and tell me that they want to buy the rights to make my book into a movie or a television series. Maybe I will get rich? Maybe I will get famous! Woo! Success here I come!

Well, no, here I go being insincere. That’s not what it’s about. I should be writing this book because I want to write it. Because I want to prove to myself that I am able to write it. Sure, it’s not as if there’s not a little brain goblin inside my mind whispering sweet nothings about how one day I might turn out a real respected author. One with real fans that gets to do big book tours talking about how brilliant I am, how brilliant my work is, and how brilliant things are going for me. I am not going to pretend I don’t have the same aspirations for success that others have. Inside of me you will find the same greedy piglet of an ego hungry for more adoration and more validation that you will find in any person. Humans don’t know when to quit, we always want more. But I am at least safe knowing that I will never debase myself, descending to the same depths as those inhabited by soulless grifters who go through life abusing the trust of others in order to get by. I’m sincere, in the end. I always turn out sincere, in the end. I am a good boy.

And I am also really sexy. I don’t think I’ve mentioned this before on this blog, but I am really, REALLY, sexy. Like, you wouldn’t believe it. Oh, I am so hot. And if you follow and subscribe and hit that bell, I will teach you how you can be just as sexy as I am! And buy my book! And my merch! And my new single! And of course, my new cryptocurrency, by the name of “autism-coin.” It’s going to be a real success on 4chan, let me tell ya!

#neurodivergent #neurodiversity #autism spectrum disorder #autism #aspergers #mental health

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wrenhyperfixates · 4 years

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Of All the Places

Chapter 5

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: The arrival of someone from your life before Loki knew you throws his head into a tailspin. He finally has to come face to face with his emotions. Chapter Warnings: a lot of sarcasm, tiny bit of angst, and fluff A/N: Thanks to everyone who’s been reading and/or chatting to me. I love hearing your thoughts on this, and I hope you enjoy the latest installment :) Updates every Friday.

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiantfavs @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff

✥ Start at Beginning ✥ | ← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

The sun beat down on Loki as he handed the carefully packaged eggs to the customer he was helping. It was the first time since his arrival on the farm that you were participating in a local farmer’s market, and he was doing his best to assist despite his less than ideal people skills.

“Have a nice day,” you called after the man as he walked away. “I’ll tell you one thing about your life, Loki. There is absolutely no way you worked in customer service.”

“No, I suppose not,” he agreed with a chuckle.

“Speaking of, you haven’t remembered anything else, have you?”

“I have not, but if I do, I promise you will be the first to know.”

“Mama’s not entirely wrong about the missing person ad,” Ana chimed in, taking the jam jar Matt had just picked up out of his hands. “It couldn’t hurt. Though I can think of a few reasons why you might not want to do it.”

Loki looked away as his cheeks flushed. He was thankful you were already with another customer by the time Ana made a little heart in the air around your heads. It seemed that she had gotten the same crazy idea that John had that he had fallen for you. If only they knew he was a god, then certainly they wouldn’t have reached such an outlandish conclusion. At least, he supposed, they did not know the true reason he wanted to avoid putting his picture out there, for if they did, he was sure they’d never look at him the same way again. Why that should even matter to him was one question he had yet to answer.

“Well, perhaps when Papa finds that camera,” Loki lied.

“Mhm. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Are you leaving?” Matt asked, tugging on Loki’s pants. “I don’t want you to.”

“I know, small one. Do not worry, I am staying put for now,” Loki said as he bent down to the boy’s height.

“Yay! More play time!”

“Indeed,” Loki laughed.

In the past few days, Papa had declared him an official farmhand and offered him a salary for his help. The trickster god declined at first, insisting that the lodgings and hospitality he’d been given were far more than enough. But, in the battle of the wills, Papa came out victorious, and Loki accepted a modest salary. His position, however, was little more than a glorified babysitter, not that he particularly minded. Everyone still seemed too nervous he was going to fall over and die at any given minute to assign him many real tasks. He still collected the eggs daily, and was being taught to milk the cows, along with a few other simple tasks. In addition, he was taking some cooking lessons with Papa. His attempt at pancakes did not go too well, but you reassured him it was a great first try, something that made him beam with pride.

One thing he wasn’t particularly fond of, however, was getting up so early. Though you’d all told him it was fine if he wanted to sleep in while he was still recovering, he felt bad to take you up on the offer. He was, after all, fully healed whether you knew it or not. And if he was accepting pay, he should have to be up as early as anyone else. Still, a part of him longed for his beauty sleep.

“Well, fancy running into you here,” a deep, unfamiliar voice said.

“Denzel?” you asked in a mix of shock and surprise. “Is that you?”

“Sure is, darlin’. Long time no see.”

“Uh, yeah. When did you get back?”

“Just last night. I was hoping to see you here. And it seems I’ve forgotten my manners. Who’s this?” he asked, nodding his head at the God of Mischief.

“Loki,” he replied, reluctantly extending his hand for a shake. “Charmed, I am sure.”

“Yeah, right. Nice to meet you, too. I’m Denzel. You new around here?” he questioned, sizing up Loki.

The raven haired god wasn’t exactly sure what it was about this man, but he rubbed him the wrong way. There was nothing particularly malicious about him, but the look in his eye sparked something in Loki’s chest. In a sudden panicked thought, he wondered if this Denzel person had recognized him. If so, he’d have to make a quick getaway, teleportation the only option. He wondered for a split second if he could grab your hand and take you with him, but he knew that wouldn’t be fair to you. Then again, nothing about this particularly was.

“Yes. You see, I have tragically lost my memory, but I was lucky enough to be taken in by this kind family,” Loki said.

“Interesting. But you remember your name?”

“Oh yes, I remember simple, everyday things, such as my name or, say, how to use a seatbelt. Something so simple surely would stay in everyone’s mind,” he joked, shooting a look at you as a huge smile made its way onto your face. You hid your laugh at the inside joke behind a hand. “Very odd how that works, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Like I said, interesting. Anyway,” he changed the subject, turning to you, “I was hoping to talk. Do you think we could maybe take a quick walk?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Can you guys hold the fort down?”

“Of course, honey,” Ana said, giving your arm a quick squeeze. “Take your time.”

You were off before Loki had any time to protest, but he kept up a cool facade as the next customer walked up to the booth. Once he finished, he put his elbow on the table and, slumping down in defeat, rested his head in his hand.

“Who was that Denzel character, anyway?” he asked your sister as his nose involuntarily wrinkled in distaste.

“Listen, don’t tell them I told you this, but he’s their ex.”

“Well, what happened? Did he hurt them?” he further inquired, perking up at the new information.

“Distance, I guess. He was a great guy, really, but it just didn’t work out. He just finished studying to be a doctor, actually. So he might be back in town for good. But,” she added, noticing the disappointment etched onto Loki’s features, “that doesn’t mean they’re getting back together or anything. It’s been a while. I really do think they moved on.”

“Do you not have that saying here, though? Distance makes the heart grow fonder. Or something else equally ridiculous as that.”

“Well, yes, that is a saying. But not from here, as in Oklahoma here. It’s kinda well known.”

“I am aware. I just meant... Oh never mind!” he quit in exasperation, a mood Ana chalked up to Denzel’s sudden arrival.

Loki tried to use his height to his advantage and spot you in the crowd, but no such luck. You were too far gone, away with Denzel, your ex. Someone who, Loki had to admit, was very pretty and smart and charming. But certainly he—Loki of Asgard, God of Mischief and Lies, rightful heir to not one, but two thrones—was prettier than this mere mortal. And smarter than this insipid fool. And far more charming than this bumbling oaf. Right? Or was he truly just the cold, chaotic, horrific, monstrous villain so many thought he was? Though, really, why should any of it matter to him?

In that moment, the answer finally hit him. He could never acknowledge it, though. It would only lead to pain and heartache for all involved. Not to mention terrible danger for you. But, if he were to allow himself just one peaceful second of bliss, he could imagine he was not a god, not a fugitive, but just a simple man. Just someone who could be able to love you and provide for you without any complications from his past misdeeds. If he could allow that, then he would admit he had feelings for you. But he can’t so he won’t. He’d let his inner demons have their way and only ever admire you from afar, accepting your friendship for what it was and nothing more. Though, if you were to make the first move, then perhaps things would be different. That, however, was an entirely unlikely course of events.

“Loki? Are you oki doki?” Matt asked, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. “Maybe you need a cookie.”

“I am fine, little one,” he said, laughing despite himself. “Thank you very much for asking.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a cookie?”

“Well, I suppose it could not hurt. What do you say? Would you like one?”

“Yes, please!”

You and Denzel reappeared just then, and Loki was suddenly very desperate to escape. He took Matt’s hand in his and informed Ana where he was off to with the child. She gave Loki a grateful smile for indulging her son and sent them on their way with a few dollars to purchase the sweets.

On the way to the booth with the most heavenly smell, Loki’s thoughts overtook him once again. He recalled his plan from when he’d first arrived; lie low and heal and then be off to Asgard. Off to claim the throne which technically should have been his. Really, it was not entirely his fault that his brother had been banished when the king fell into Odinsleep. And it wasn’t like he caused that either. No, his “father” confessed he’d been lying to him to all his life and then left him to deal with it by himself. And he was next in line for the throne at the time, but apparently he shouldn’t have taken it. Obviously, it was all perfect logic from the brain of Odin once again. And, yes, he would admit he made some mistakes. That was the sign of a true leader. But he was doing the best he could with the hand he’d been dealt. And perhaps the most frustrating part was he was starting to realize he liked this simple town better than any of that. That he didn’t actually want to leave, after all.

One short wait in line later, Loki pulled himself from the dangerous rabbit hole that was his mind. He ordered two cookies, pumpkin chocolate chip for Matt and a butter pecan one for himself. Then, on a whim, he also ordered a cup of hot apple cider for both you and Ana. Nothing for Denzel, though. If the Norns were smiling on him today, that man would already be gone by the time he got back. Gone as in away from the stand or out of the state didn’t really matter to Loki. Either worked for him.

“Surprise,” he whispered in your ear after sneaking up behind you. “Hot apple cider, on me.”

You graciously took the cup and passed one to Ana, too. Loki also offered you a piece of his cookie, which you gladly accepted. The brush of your fingers as he gave it to you had him shyly looking away. Ana took Matt off to the bathroom once he was done eating, leaving Loki alone with you for the first time that day.

“So, Denzel,” he nonchalantly started after you finished a transaction. “He seemed... Nice.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. He is.” You picked at a loose thread on your jacket as you figured out what else to say about him. “Ana told me that she let you know our history. He said he’s back now and strongly hinted at us getting back together, but I don’t know.”

“I see. Well, from what I hear, he’s an amazing guy, so you should go for it,” Loki dejectedly said, though he truly did want you to be happy. “If that is what you want, of course.”

“It’s not, though. At least, I don’t think it is. Don’t get me wrong, he is really great. But the spark’s just gone for me, you know?”

“I understand completely,” Loki replied, hope creeping into his heart. Even if you were not yet smitten with him, at least you were not still pining for your ex. “You are certainly under no obligation to be with him again.”

“Yeah, I know. I just feel bad.”

“Darling, look at me,” he said, taking your hand. “You should never feel bad about what, or rather who, you want or do not want. It is entirely up to you, no matter what anyone else says.”

The irony was not lost on Loki that he should be saying those words. Though, he had found it was a common theme among Midgardians to be good at giving advice but never apply it to yourself. So, if anything, he was just doing an impeccable job of blending in.

“Thanks, Loki. I needed that. Anyway, on a much lighter note, Matt really seems to love you. You’re great with kids.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Absolutely.”

He felt his cheeks go scarlet again, entirely too happy that you thought he was good with kids. For a brief moment, the idea of raising a child with you popped into his mind, but he shut it down before he tortured himself too much with something that could never be.

“Well, I thank you for the compliment, but if you do not mind, I need some fresh air for a second. Or space, I suppose,” he corrected, considering you were outside. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Ok. Talk to me if something’s bothering you?”

“Of course.”

He knew that was a lie, and he was sure that deep down you did, too. It was, in the grand scheme of things, a little white lie. It’s just that it felt like so much more than that. In some ways, he supposed it was.

As he walked out to the edge of the market, he thought he heard some thunder ominously booming in the distance. Or maybe that was just his imagination.

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moon-in-daylight · 4 years

Text

Read Between The Lines / Count Orlo x reader

Summary: You have been friends with Orlo for years now, even though you have always fantasized about being something more. When Orlo reads some compromising papers, you’re not sure you can keep your infatuation with him a secret anymore.

Words: 5.4k

A/N: I’ve been working on this fic for weeks and now I’ve finally finished it. I’m not sure I’m content with the result, but considering I’ve overcome a really huge writing block to finish this, I’m posting it either way. I haven’t proofread any of this, so sorry for the potential mistakes and typos. Hope it still makes some sense. Also sorry for posting so late at night, but now that I finally have a fic to post, I can’t wait to do it until tomorrow 😂

Surviving in Peter’s court wasn’t an easy task and anyone that had spent more than a few nights between the opulent walls of his palace could confirm that. The competence of the young Emperor could be easily described as inexistent and both the country and the palace were suffering the most absolute misery under his wicked and corrupted hand.

The war with Sweden had lasted too long, killed too many of your own people, but as harsh as it sounded, the front wasn’t the most hostile environment in Russia.

Sooner or later, that war would end. Eventually, things would go back to normal to the few lucky Russian soldiers that survived the unforgivingly cold winter in the battleground. Whatever outcome the dispute would take, the remaining survivors could go home and return to their families, live the rest of their lives in peace despite the atrocities they had been obliged to perform and witness…

The court, on the other hand, was endlessly immersed in a constant, vicious war for power that had started long before you were even born, and most certainly would still go on long after you were gone.

Every single soul living in Peter’s palace cared only for themselves, looked exclusively for their own interests. Winning the Emperor’s favor was vital for survival, and no one seemed to care whose feet they stepped on to get it. You could understand their selfish ways, you weren’t completely innocent either. You often forced yourself to laugh at the terrible jokes Peter made or took advantage of your family’s prosperous situation to get the any whims you could desire, even when in the majority times you actually didn't need most of the things you owned. It was an unfair situation and you were aware of it, but you had to take advantage of the fact that you had been born lucky and privileged.

But you normally tried to stay out of the way of the big political players, of those of the court’s residents that were trying to manipulate Peter into ruling by their beliefs and principles.

It was exhausting to live in a place like that. A place where everyone hid their true intentions and where you couldn’t lower your guard at practically any time of the day.

Much to your disgrace, the situation at court wouldn’t change while Peter was alive and occupying the throne. Even when he was the most incompetent, useless ruler the country had had in centuries – probably ever -, you were doomed to endure his reign with the only hope that you could outlive him and see a better Russia after he passed away.

He was too childish and puerile to run a country, far more worried in the seek for his own pleasure and amusement than meeting the needs of his people.

It was hard to conceive that while thousands of men were dying at the front, the Emperor could be drinking until passing out and making full display of his stupidity and recklessness through humorless jokes. It was evident to everyone’s eyes that he wasn’t qualified to run Russia, but you knew that saying that out loud would more than certainly get you killed.

He came from a long bloodline of rulers and that gave him a full pass on doing anything he wanted, no consequences, all by the divine grace of God. There was absolutely nothing you could do, except watch everyone around you butter up and lick the boots of the man that was destroying your homeland.

Not being able to deal with the hypocrisy of the court, you had soon learnt to ignore the real world and hide yourself up in fantasy ones, the shelves and books of the small library of the palace becoming a shelter for you.

In addition to being meaningfully smaller than the other rooms of the palace, the library was old, outdated and dusty. But it was also the quietest place and most peaceful room you could have access to, the least crowded. Just for that reason, it was the perfect place for you.

Although what you could have initially expected, you weren’t always alone in there, as Count Orlo often visited the library too. He was probably the only soul in the whole court beside you that care the slightest for written words, that enjoyed learning new things just for the pleasure of it.

You were intimidated by him at first, his political career and reputation making him seem cold and ruthless. In your eyes and judging by what you had heard of him, he was nothing but a calculating mind seeking to expand his power and influence, putting up with the Emperor’s constant mocking of him just so he could manipulate him.

That view you had of him immediately changed after the first time you exchanged a few ideas about the philosophy book he had caught you reading, his passionate words allowing you to see the concepts you were reading about from a different and more interesting point of view.

It wasn’t rare for the both of you to coincide in that room and through your encounters you easily familiarized and grew comfortable with each other presence. How could you not? He was always nothing but kind to you.

Whenever he had the chance, he got reunited with you so you could discuss your readings, recommend each other new books or just spend some quality time away from all the court’s madness. He was incredibly friendly and caring, always willing to share with you his knowledge, which you were incredibly thankful for.

Women weren’t supposed to learn the things you were learning. Most of them at court were illiterate, and you would be too had your father not thought it could be useful to teach you how to read when you were a child. You were grateful that he had taken the time to teach you, knowing that most men wanted the women around them to be ignorant and obliging. You were tired of seeing the patronizing way in which your gender was treated. So seeing that Orlo was treating you as an equal and was happy to answer even your most stupid questions was truly relieving.

It didn’t take long for you to grow fond of him, maybe fonder than you would have liked to admit.

Orlo was the only person in court you felt you could rely on, his views and ideas more similar to yours than what you could have ever imagined. Despite what everyone else gossiped about him, you knew he was brave and did the best he could to make a difference in Russia. He couldn’t do much to reason with Peter and talk him into making what was best for everyone, you doubted that anyone could. But at least he tried, unlike all that people who dared to mock him.

You saw in him something you had been looking for your whole life; a ray of hope. A promise that things could change, a reminder that not everything was that bad.

You couldn’t help but to let yourself fall for the feelings you slowly developed for him. It felt too good and tempting to not do so. The way your heart raced whenever you were around him was something thrilling, exciting. Something you had never thought you could ever get to feel while living in that place.

You weren’t willing to act on those feelings and risk losing his friendship, though. It was evident how uncomfortable he felt about that subject whenever Peter and his minions made fun of his lack sexual experience. You could see him clench and cringe under the court’s mockeries, discomfort filling his features every time anyone made a sexual reference in his presence. You assumed he simply wasn’t interested in those matters.

Plus, if he had been interested in you that way, he would have said something, shown some sign of his affection towards you…

It was okay that he didn’t feel the same. Just being able to befriend him was more than you could have asked for, and silently daydream about made up scenarios of you and him usually did the trick when you felt the need of being loved back.

That’s how, during one night in which you couldn’t get Orlo out of your head while reading, you had started writing a ‘book’ of your own.

You had been gathering different fantasies during the last couple of months. Endless reveries about how kissing him for the first time would feel like, what his reaction would be to other men taking an interest of you, or even about how the most quotidian parts of the day, like waking up or having breakfast, would be like with him.

Why should you not write something of your own, for your own consumption? You had always loved reading, and your feelings for Orlo gave you a never ending source of inspiration. So many ideas that you barely could remember them all. By writing them, you could preserve the happiest of your thoughts, go through them after a bad day and have your little stories bring a smile to your face.

It was harmless, so why not doing it? If it brought you joy, it couldn’t be that bad. Plus, Orlo would never have to know about your writings, as he didn’t need to know about your feelings for him either.

You hadn’t been able to write or read anything for the past days, though. Since the arrival of the Empress to the court everything had been even more chaotic than usual, and even when you much have rather stay in your chambers or with Orlo in the library instead, you had been obliged to attend to the wedding and following events.

As soon as you had seen her innocence, the look of hope in her face as she arrived to the palace for the first time, you had pitied her. She was an outsider hoping to find in the Emperor the love of her life, and in Russia a new home. You almost felt inclined to advice her to run away as fast as she could and never look back the second she walked through the palace’s doors. Living in that place was already awful enough without being married to Peter, and you figured that more sooner than later she would be regretting ever having left her home.

It only took a few days for her to realize in what a godforsaken place she had gotten herself into, as you had figured would happen. What you weren’t expecting was for her to start plotting against his husband’s life so she could steal his throne, nor that she would be requesting for your help in the process.

You had of course agreed to help her as soon as she had told you about the coup. You barely knew the woman, but you were already sure she would be making a much better work at running Russia that Peter ever would. Even a monkey could do it better, you suspected.

Because of your implication to her plans, you had found yourself having less time to spend with your own thoughts and writings, but that was compensated by having the chance of spending even more time than before with Orlo, as you had been able to convince him into taking part of the coup too.

It was actually nice to take part in the plotting against Peter, not only because you hated the bastard, but because due to the extra time you spent with Orlo, you could feel the bond between you getting stronger. During coup meetings, you would usually support each other’s ideas, have inside jokes between the two of you… You even defended him against Marial’s rude comments of him.

But as much fun as you were having helping Catherine kill the Emperor, it was also a really exhausting and demanding task, and you soon found that you barely had time to spend by yourself anymore. It had been at least a week since the last time you had been able to sit by your desk and write any of the scenarios you pictured with Orlo. And now that you were spending so much time together, you had a lot to write about.

That night you had arrived to your apartments early, right after dinner. As was tradition every few nights in the court, the Emperor was hosting a party, and you had been fortunate enough to be spared of the torture of attending.

You were hopping you could spend a quiet, peaceful night by yourself for once. To get lost in your thoughts as you imagined Orlo by your side in a new, reformed Russia. But your plans immediately took a different turn when, after searching through the whole room, you couldn’t find your writings anywhere.

After inspecting every drawer and every corner of your room for the second time, you started to get seriously worried.

What if someone had sneaked into your chambers and taken your writings? It was unlikely, as you hadn’t tell anyone about their existence. Why would anyone want to steal those, anyway? What value could they hold to anyone other than you? Of all the items in your quarters, those papers were probably the least valuable thing. If anyone had intended to steal anything from that room, you were sure that would be the last thing they would have taken, and yet, it was the only missing item…

But looking around you, you realized it wasn’t the only thing out of place. In the top of your desk you found a book that wasn’t supposed to be there, the book you had supposedly lent Orlo last week.

Quickly putting all the pieces together, you realized the fatal mistake you had made as your heart practically started to bump in your chest.

You had given him your own writings, instead of the Voltaire pamphlet you had been meaning to share with him.

Mumbling and cursing yourself, you grabbed the book between your hands and rushed out of your chambers and towards Orlo’s.

The Count had been even busier than you with the whole coup situation, so you hoped and prayed for him not to have found a single moment to read in all that time. You knew that in usual conditions, he could and would devour entire books over night, but you held to the hope that he hadn’t seen any of the things you had written about him.

Well, you had seen him exhausting himself from work every day for the past week. His mind seemed to be too focused on planning the next move, on thinking of possible allies for the Empress. It was quite possible he hadn’t even remembered that the book was in his possession.

If he had seen the words you had written, he would have already said something, right? So maybe you could still fix your mistake and act as if nothing had ever happened.

Assuming that he was still at the Emperor’s party, you could sneak into his chambers and switch the books. Prevent the awkwardness that the discovering of your fantasies with him would arouse between the two of you.

You didn’t bother to knock on his door before silently making your way into his chambers, holding the book close to your chest as you tried to ease the pressure that you felt inside.

When you saw that the entrance seemed to be empty, you let out a silent sigh of relieve. Yet, your steps were carefully slow as you got deeper into the room, trying not to make a single noise just in case.

It felt somewhat wrong to be there without his permission, but saving your friendship came before any moral conflict that could arouse within you at the moment.

If everything went okay, he would never have to know about any of it.

You held onto that thought as you kept walking towards the door of his bedchamber, where you knew he kept most of his books. Even when what you were doing felt wrong, it was for a greater good. How uncomfortable would the coup meetings be if he were to discover about your infatuation of him? For the well-being of Russia itself, he should never find out.

Besides, you were just trying to mend a wrong. You had given him your writings in a foolish mistake, by taking them back and leaving the actual book in their place you were just making things right. You convinced yourself it was the righteous thing to do, even when deep down it didn’t feel like it.

Succeeding into making your way to the front door of his bedchamber without any major complication, you pushed the doors open and quickly got inside the room. You didn’t mean to stay too long in there, but you closed the doors behind you in case any guard found them open and got alarmed.

The last thing you wanted right now was for anyone to find you there and having to make up an excuse for your furtive presence in the Count’s apartments.

When you looked up and found him sitting on his desk your body immediately froze, and when he looked up from the papers he was reading to look at you, you felt the cold sweat forming in your forehead.

For a second, you kept your eyes on him, watching surprise taking over his features. You tried to think of something, anything. An excuse to why you were sneaking into his chambers late at night when everyone was supposed to be either sleeping, dancing or completely wasted. You considered the idea of pretending to be drunk, make him think that you had entered his apartments by mistake and let him guide you back to yours. Being the gentleman he had always been, you knew that would be exactly what he would do in that situation.

It would certainly be embarrassing, and you feared he would feel uncomfortable having to deal with a drunk version of you. But you knew it would be far more embarrassing and uncomfortable to tell him the real reason why you were there.

If you were lucky enough and your performance succeeded, maybe you would even be able to ‘drunkenly’ roam through the room in search of your writings and take them with you without him noticing. Maybe you could still fix things.

You were about to ask him what he was doing in your apartments in what you hoped would sound as a drunken tone, but you desisted when you noticed the papers he was holding in his hand.

He had already read them. There was no point in making even more of a fool of yourself.

Neither of you dared to say anything for the following moments. Awkwardly, you looked at each other in what felt like the longest seconds of your life. You no longer knew what to do or say to fix that situation and, judging by the terrified look on his face, you doubted there was anything you could possibly try to make things better.

That was it. Your friendship was officially over. He would probably never want to say another word to you again. Maybe not even be in the same room as you again.

“I-“ You stumbled over your own words, feeling the lump forming in your throat and the pressure in your chest growing stronger, until the point of almost suffocate you. “I’m deeply sorry.”

As you quickly but sincerely said those words, you felt your mouth getting dry and your cheeks blushing, self-hatred taking over every inch of your body. You couldn’t bear the weight of his stare on you. Orlo’s eyes had always seemed the sweetest thing in the world to you, always so expressive and caring whenever he looked in your direction. But right now you felt them hovering over you judgmentally, with a hint of disgust on his face.

You had to look away from him immediately, but you still could notice how his face reddened too with what you assumed was second hand embarrassment.

Closing your eyes, you wished you could magically banish from that room. You wished for a hole to appear in the ground and swallow you, or for the walls to crumble and fall upon you until you were buried deep in the rubbles of the palace and nobody could find you. Literally anything could be better than standing there in front of Orlo.

You had no excuses, no way out. You wanted to properly apologize to him, make him see how truly sorry you were and how much you appreciated his friendship. How desperate you were not to lose him.

But you couldn’t find the right words for it.

“I should go.” You muttered nervously, still hopping that that entire situation was just a bitter nightmare. “I hope you can forgive me.”

Turning to leave his apartments, you wished he hadn’t notice the crack in your voice as you spoke. That whole scenario was already too shameful for you to bear, the last thing you needed was for him to see you crying. All you wanted was to get out of there as fast as you could, lock yourself in your chambers and drink until you forgot about what had happened or just passed out, whatever occurred first.

“Wait.” Orlo’s shaking voice stopped you.

As much as you wanted to run away, a single word from him was enough to stop you.

You were mortified as you stood there, still refusing to turn in his direction. You didn’t dare to. He was probably going to lecture you about how wrong and improper was what you had done, how repulsed he was by it. You didn’t want to go through it, but you owed it to him to face the consequences of your actions.

“I-I didn’t know you write.”

The Count’s tone was surprisingly tender and insecure. You turned to him with wondering eyes, trying to discern whether if he was mad at you or not.

“That’s not-“ You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but your mouth was still dry. “I mean, I don’t.”

“But aren’t these writ-?” He started to question, but you cut him off before he could finish.

“Those don’t count.” Orlo frowned at your words, confused. You made an effort to explain yourself. “They’re rubbish.”

You watched him clench his jaw and avoid your gaze before he spoke again.

“I like-“ He stuttered. “I liked them.”

His words made you blush again. Not with embarrassment, but with flustering this time. He didn’t seem mad at you. In fact, he seemed way more nervous than you. His stammering confession of his liking of your work made you realize how hard he was trying to seem composed.

“I thought you’d be upset.” You tried to state, but your doubtful tone made it sound more like a question.

“I am not.” He was quick to reply, but still refused to meet your eye. “I think the way you… I really enjoyed your descriptions. They’re very detailed and intricated. And the vocabulary is delightfully rich.”

You could see the way Orlo moved around as he spoke, grabbing your writings in one hand and gesticulating with the other one to emphasize his words. He was visibly nervous, but he was doing his best to hide it. He was trying to act as if he was making a simple review of any other book you had shared with him and, as thankful as you were that he was attempting to normalize the situation, this wasn’t just another one of your endless talks about literature.

You hadn’t written those stories with the purpose of discussing them. It felt cold to talk about the use of vocabulary in them when your only intention at the time of writing them had only been to find a way to deal with what you felt for him. You weren’t especially proud of the product of your writing, but you had poured your heart and soul in them. How could he act as if he hadn’t read right through you? Was he really that oblivious that he didn’t realize that you were head over heels about him?

It was literally impossible he didn’t know, he had read about it with his very own eyes. Still, he seemed to be trying to act as if nothing had happened. You had accidentally stripped your feelings, showed him your deepest desires. And all you got from him was nothing.

For a second you thought you would have preferred that he had screamed at you, showed you rage, discomfort, or even disgust. Literally any other feeling that wasn’t the indifference he was giving you. Did he really not care at all?

Confronting him about it felt wrong. You weren’t entitled to it, and you didn’t want to make him any more uncomfortable than he already was. Instead, you decided to play along.

“And what do you think of the plot?” You asked, hoping he would take it as a cue to address the issue that worried you.

“T-The plot?” He repeated anxiously as he readjusted his glasses. You nodded, hoping for him to say something, but all you got from him was a mumbling mess.

You felt your heart ache for him as he stumbled through stuttered words and unfinished sentences. The Count seemed even more uncomfortable trying to find a right answer for you than what he usually was when being mocked by the court. And considering how awkward he felt under the constant jibes he was put through daily, that was saying something.

“Orlo, I’m sorry you read that.” You cut him off in an attempt to calm him down. Embarrassment was taking over you once again and you felt the urge to leave his apartments immediately, but you first needed to try to calm his nerves. You hated seeing him so unsettled, and you knew that he was going to be torturing himself about that interaction once you left the room, just as you were going to do too. At least, you had to try to find the right words to clear his mind. It had been you the one that had put him in that place after all. “I shouldn’t have written those things about you. It’s okay if you feel uncomfortable about it, you don’t have to pretend you don’t. I understand if you’re upset, even. It’s not your fault. I have no excuse for this, I now realize I should have never-“

“I’m not-“ Orlo’s voice surprised you, making you hush instantly. “It’s not that I’m upset. I just-“

He closed his eyes and sighed, probably still struggling to find the right words to express what was going through his mind. Knowing the man, you realized he was probably beating himself up inside that restless head of his. Cursing himself for not knowing the best way to react to that situation. The man was a perfectionist, always had been. If he said the wrong thing now he wouldn’t be able to think of any other thing for the rest of the week.

“I really can’t tell if you wrote these stories as a joke.” He finally sentenced.

“A joke?” The words left your lips before you could even process them. “Why would you think that?”

“I know I’m not a ladies man.” He stated, discomfort still plaguing his tone. “I’m well aware of all the rumors and jests about me. It’s just… I know I’m not desirable to women.”

You couldn’t help but frown while hearing his words. Your heart broke a little inside your chest, too. How could he think that you would mock him like that? Had he really grown to believe all the mean and hurtful things the evil tongues at Court said about him?

“Orlo, that’s bullshit.” You stepped forward, the embarrassment you had been drowning in suddenly turning into indignation. “You’re not a coward. You’re the bravest, most caring man I know. Not even half of the other men in this palace would be courageous enough to have joined this coup, to fight to make a difference. They can’t say nothing to you and it’s criminal that they have the audacity to mock you.”

The Count stared at you in disbelief of your words, still reluctant to look at you directly in the eye. It hurt you that he couldn’t seem to believe your words were true.

“You aren’t ugly either.” You continued, placing yourself right in front of his desk. “You have the most beautiful and intense eyes I’ve ever seen. I could stare at them for hours, if you let me. And your hair? It looks so soft, I’d love to run my fingers through it.”

Your heart beat increased as you kept listing the things you loved the most about him. It felt weird to just say to his face all the things that you loved about him and that you had kept in secret for years, but you needed him to understand just how wrong he was.

“You’re so intelligent that I sometimes fear you will laugh at me when I say something stupid, but deep down I know you won’t because you’re too kind to ever do that.”

Looking into his eyes, you took a deep breathe, deciding if you should keep on or just cut it off already. Truth was you could have continued like that for hours.

“Orlo, you’re the best person I know, and anyone incapable of seeing the many virtues you have must be completely blind. Including yourself.”

Silence took over the room for the following seconds, and you feared you had made his discomfort grow stronger. Still, you didn’t regret saying those things out loud. You had kept them to yourself for too long, and he needed to know his own value.

The Count simply stared at you, eyes shifting and mouth slightly ajar.

“I never knew you thought such nice things about me.” He finally muttered bashfully, as if he was apologizing.

“Well, I’ve been in love with you for years. That’s the reason I wrote those stories.” You casually added with your newfound confidence. Somehow, it still seemed to get him by surprise. “It has been painfully obvious and I think everyone else has realized already, but since you don’t seem to be able to read between the lines, I’m telling you.”

It felt liberating to finally get it out your chest. For years you had feared his rejection, but now that you witness his own insecurities making a display right in front of you, all you cared about was to make him feel he was worthy of love and respect. You didn’t even care if he didn’t requite your feelings.

“I’m such an idiot.” Count Orlo stood and looked at you, not being able to hide the red color his cheeks had taken.

“Indeed you are.” You smiled at him, touched by his innocent obliviousness. “A very cute one, though.”

Orlo stood in front of you, closer than usual. When you noticed him fidgeting in the spot and nervously running his tongue through his lips, you realized what his new intention was. Not leaving him time to regret his decision, you captured his lips with yours in a chaste but sweet kiss.

You couldn’t help but recall the way you had imagined and described that moment in your writings as you pressed your lips against his. You had always imagined your first kiss to be more passionate and intense, but as you pulled away slowly from the kiss, you thought that the sweetness and tenderness of the actual moment was more fitting than what you could have ever pictured.

“You should have told me earlier about this.” Orlo stated, face inches away from yours.

“I’m not done telling you everything.” You smiled contently. “There are still plenty of things I love about you and that I think you should know.”

“I can think of a few about you myself.” He whispered, more relaxed now. You liked this carefree side of him.

“I’d love to hear them, but they can wait until tomorrow.” Handing him the book you still had between your hands, you stated. “I think you have some Voltaire to catch up on first. And I should go back to my apartments. It’s late and there’s something I want to write about.”

Orlo’s smile was so big that it made your heart race. After leaving the book you had given him on his desk, he gave you back your writings.

“I can’t wait to read it.”

#Count Orlo x reader #Orlo x reader #Hulu's The Great #Hulu's The Great fanfiction #Sacha Dhawan #Count Orlo x you #Orlo x you #The Great #The Great fanfiction #This is basically Orlo discovering you write fanfiction about him

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crookswithbooks · 3 years

Text

Unwanted Company

Day Six - Blitzo is lonely and Stolas is horny. Together, they make a wonderful pair.

Christmas in Hell was an interesting affair.

Being a commemoration of the birth of their tormenter, most demons chose to celebrate the holidays by burning Christ memorabilia or getting drunk and cursing his names in the streets. Sometimes both. Others merely ignored the holiday, seeing it as just another winter day, or in other words just another day as winter in Hell was essentially the same as every other season in Hell, i.e. terrible and on fire.

Stolas was an exception to this rule. As a mortal he had loved the holidays, and that love had transferred over into the afterlife. He liked to see it as less of a celebration of Jesus and more a celebration of capitalism and beautiful aesthetics. That was more his style. Unfortunately, the rest of his family did not share his love for the season. He was subjected to another series of lectures by Estelle when she discovered wreaths hung about the house, lectures that involved the catapulting of many an object towards his face, and Octavia merely groaned and left the room whenever he tried to coerce her into a Christmas carol.

Thus Stolas was forced to turn to his one source of comfort when his family decided that even they were fed up with his shenanigans. He twirled the phone wire around his fingertip as he waited for the call to pick up.

“Oh Blitzy~!”

On the other end of the line, Blitzo felt one of his eyes twitch. He was already in a terrible mood and this phone call was the cherry on top of the shit sandwich. As it happened, Blitzo was not a Christmas person. He was happy to take advantage of the season’s marketability for his business, but even that only served to sink his spirits more than they already were. It was depressing to watch the atrocious acts that greed prompted humans to commit.

Now he found himself curled up in his office chair, all alone with not even Moxxie or Millie to keep him company; both of them had taken a day off for the holidays even though Blitzo knew for a fact that neither of them bought into the Christmas spirit either. He had invited Loona to join him but the conversation had lasted for about two seconds before she flipped him off and went to go burn down a building with her friends for anarchical reasons.

He was lonely. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but it was true. So it was just his luck that he was to receive a phone call from the one person he would never choose to spend the holidays with.

“What do you want you piece of shit dicklord?” Blitzo grumbled, slumping down on his desk so that his chin rested in his arms. He was too tired to be genuinely angry at him and so his words were devoid of their usual ferocity.

“You flatter me. I was wondering if you wanted to join me for the evening? I was thinking we could…” Stolas smiled as images flashed through his mind. “Entertain each other?”

Blitzo opened his mouth to tell him to fuck off but found himself pausing. He had caught a glance of the picture hanging over his desk, one of him and the rest of I.M.P smiling after a successful kill. Blitzo had his arms clutched around them and the others smiled up at him, admit a bit reluctantly. He stared around again at his empty office and before he knew what he was doing, he said, “Okay.”

“…Okay?” Stolas, who moments before had been lounging casually upon his bed, now sat up, a hint of hope and confusion coloring his tone. “Okay, you want to join me for Christmas?”

“Yes?” Blitzo cringed further into the safety of his arms. What the hell was he doing? Surely he couldn’t be considering spending any amount of time with the horniest owl lord in hell, and yet… It was too late to take back his words so he pushed forward, hoping not to regret them further. “We’re not doing anything, just to be clear. However, I don’t… entirely hate the concept of your presence right now. So… what do you say?”

Stolas had no idea what had prompted the change of heart, but he wasn’t about to turn down an offer like that. “I would love that. And you’re sure this is what you want?”

Weirdly, Blitzo was.

When he arrived he was greeted with a text that merely read Meet me on the balcony ;), thus implying that the use of a front door was one they would be forgoing that night. Blitzo sighed and prepared for the painful climb up the tangled tresses and onto the sculpted balcony. He pulled himself over the last rung with a pained grunt, using the length of his tail to secure him the rest of the way over. At first he didn’t see anyone and he was almost worried he had fallen for one of Stolas’ tricks despite himself. That was when he noticed the owl demon skulking in the shadows of the doorway, the light from the moon casting specters on his looming form.

“Hello Blitzy,” he greeted softly, his head tilted incredulously to one side. “I didn’t think you’d really come.”

“Yeah, well, I almost didn’t,” Blitzo confessed bitterly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Truthfully speaking, I have no idea why I’m here. I hate a lot of people, and I mean a lot of people, but you take the cake for the filthiest scum of the earth I’ve ever encountered.”

“The night’s still early for talk like that.” Stolas waltzed forward, his steps a lilting, sensuous thing. Blitzo found himself staring, hating himself for doing so. As much as he insisted it was purely business to friends and co-workers, Blitzo couldn’t deny that he didn’t entirely hate their nights together. It certainly beat whatever plans he would have had for the evenings. Stolas leaned on the railing besides him, his gaze piercing as he stared down at Blitzo. Later the imp would deny the blush that crawled unwanted up his neck.

“I’m fairly certain I said nothing was happening tonight,” Blitzo reminded him, brushing off his pants. “I just wanted some company and you happened to be the easiest solution.”

“Of course,” Stolas agreed, nodding enthusiastically. “I would never think of doing anything untoward to you. I know our past has been mostly, or rather completely, sexual in nature, but I do have interests outside of intercourse you know.”

Blitzo scoffed. “Oh, like what? And please never say intercourse like that again. I feel like I need to take a shower.”

Stolas traced a fingernail across the railing, a slow, lazy path. Blitzo’s throat went dry and he reminded himself again that nothing was happening that night. His body, however, did not seem to get the memo. “I am a fan of stargazing myself and I’m actually quite a good herbalist. I’ve also been known to enjoy conversation from time to time. What about you? Any interests outside of your own personal pleasure?”

“Every interest is to serve my personal pleasure,” Blitzo said smugly, his tail coiling tauntingly behind him. “It’s the only real thing worth pursuing in this dump of a hellhole we’re all living in. I don’t have time or use for hobbies.”

“Is that why you’re so interested in killing?” Stolas prompted. “It provides you pleasure to watch others fail and die?” There was no malice or judgement in his voice, just plain curiosity. Blitzo hesitated a moment before answering.

“It pays the bills,” he said at last, the current line of questioning making him strangely uncomfortable. “I don’t really like it so much as it’s convenient. Not to mention those assholes deserved it. Not a single human gets by without doing something disgustingly rotten to someone else and damning themselves for all eternity. Why do you think we have such an overpopulation issue?”

“But you can’t really believe that, can you?” Stolas insisted, drawing closer to the imp. Blitzo’s skin prickled with goosebumps and he took an instinctual step back. “Surely there’s some good in people. At least one of them?”

“There isn’t,” Blitzo snarled, anger fueling into his voice to make up for his discomfort. “And I know for a fact you don’t believe so either.”

“Ah, you caught me,” Stolas admitted, but instead of moving back in defeat he only drew in closer. This time Blitzo found himself unable to move, his feet seemingly stuck to the floor. “I find humanity to be quite undeserving of any kind of mercy. But I know you don’t.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“Oh but I do.” Stolas met his gaze, but something had softened in his eyes and it was no longer the predatory look from before. “I don’t just want you for your body, you know. I’ve watched you with your supposed ‘co-workers’—I’ve seen the way you look at them. You care for them. That’s why you’re here with me tonight. I’m a replacement for them, aren’t I?”

Angry heat flashed through Blitzo and he moved to step away but Stolas caught his wrist in one hand. His grip was surprisingly strong, a fact that did many things to the imp. “Don’t lie to me. Not on Christmas.”

“Oh please,” Blitzo snorted, rolling his eyes and ignoring the pounding of his heart. “You don’t really buy into all that cheap Christ stuff, do you? It’s just a scam to sell candy and toys to desperate parents. Christmas spirit is just a lie we tell ourselves to sleep better at night.”

“Maybe I don’t believe all of it,” Stolas admitted, his other hand sliding down Blitzo’s throat and curling around the base of his neck. Blitzo felt a shudder work its way down his body and he cursed the fact that this always happened whenever he got around the other demon. “But is it so wrong to want to celebrate, to spend time with the people you love?”

“What about your own family, huh?” Blitzo shot back, the words his only defense mechanism as Stolas slowly unraveled him. “You have a real one so why don’t you spend this stupid holiday with them?”

For a moment the seductive façade faded and it was just Stolas, eyes widened and beak tightened into a frown. “They’re busy,” he snapped quickly, and the look was gone before Blitzo could evaluate it too heavily. “Besides, I’m spending it with you. Per your agreement, if you remember.”

He took another step forward so that their two bodies were pressed flush up against the railing. Blitzo’s hands tightened on the cold metal and he averted his eyes. “I didn’t agree to this.”

“Then stop me,” Stolas said in reply, knowing for a fact that the imp wouldn’t. As he leaned down, the heat of their bodies mingling, Blitzo considered breaking the moment, pursuing the look on Stolas face from earlier. In the end though, he decided they would have enough time to discuss it later that next morning, after the events of the night had faded into a distant dream.

Right then, though, Blitzo had a horny demon owl to attend to.

#hazbin hotel #blitzo #stolas #stolitz #helluva boss #stolas x blitzo #twelve days of ficmas #fanfiction #christmas

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lesdemonium · 4 years

Text

romtober day 2: stuck together

Rating: T Ship: Geraskier Word Count: 2625 Summary: After a string of over-blown arguments leads to Geralt and Jaskier not talking to each other, Yennefer and Ciri take drastic measures to force them to communicate.

read on ao3

“No. Absolutely not.”

The door had barely swung open before the words were out of Jaskier’s mouth. Geralt hadn’t even realized Jaskier was there until he spoke, but he looked up just in time to see the pinched expression on Jaskier’s face. Geralt shot a glare Yennefer’s way, but she didn’t even bother to look at him. The glare was much more effective when turned to Ciri, even if Geralt did feel a bit guilty when her expression quickly twisted into shame.

Despite Jaskier’s protest, though, he walked into the apartment with Ciri, and even allowed her to close the door behind them.

“If you wanted to talk to me, you could have just picked up a phone like a normal person and asked, Geralt,” Jaskier huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

Geralt mirrored Jaskier’s posture, though he turned to face the wall instead of his friend. His extremely infuriating friend. “I don’t. I didn’t have anything to do with this.”

“You two are ridiculous. Is this actually the example you want to set for Ciri?” Yennefer scolded. “Two grown ass men can’t sort out their problems and just talk to each other when they have a fight?”

“When has Geralt ever been able to talk to anyone?” Jaskier fired back. Geralt looked up to see him glaring at Yennefer, though he did also cut a withering glance to Geralt. “I tried to talk to him after the initial fight, but he refused. At least, until he called me a ‘talentless hack’ and a ‘waste of precious time and energy’!”

“I did not call you either of those things,” Geralt snapped, standing up.

He stepped closer to Jaskier, now suddenly very interested in reigniting the fight that had been going on for weeks now. Fighting with Jaskier was never enjoyable. They were both far too proud, far too stubborn, far too passionate. They often got on like a house on fire, which unfortunately had a tendency of destroying everything in its wake. Lately, though, even Geralt had to admit they had been worse. Shorter with each other, prone to more dramatic outbursts, and having knock out fights starting over nothing that dragged on for entirely too long. Even Geralt didn’t know what was wrong with them.

Geralt had a feeling that on his end, at least, it had something to do with what he wasn’t saying to Jaskier. But Jaskier had been just as antagonistic as Geralt lately, so surely the blame couldn't fall squarely on Geralt’s shoulders.

“You might as well have!” Jaskier said, and he took a step closer, too. They were practically chest to chest, in what Yennefer had often called a display of extremely unhealthy masculinity. “You all but implied that your life would be better without me in it!”

“I said it would be easier if you could solve your own damn problems for once, but trust you to twist my words until they’re unrecognizable. Do you ever actually listen to what I tell you?”

Jaskier, who was already prone to making grand gestures and talking with his hands, flapped his hands up and narrowly missed Geralt’s face. Geralt, reacting to try to avoid being hit, snatched both of Jaskier’s wrists in midair. Jaskier let out an indignant noise as he tried to pull his hands away, but Geralt did not let go.

A moment later, he wished he had, when Ciri took advantage of their situation to slap a pair of handcuffs on their wrists, cuffing Geralt and Jaskier together.

This made them freeze, and Jaskier’s face was almost comically bewildered as his eyes went wide and he turned to Ciri. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally managed a squeaky, “What in the world are you doing?”

“I told you I’d find an opportunity!” Ciri said proudly to Yennefer. Yennefer appeared to be trying very hard not to burst out laughing.

“Ciri, uncuff us,” Geralt insisted, fixing her with a stern look.

“No.” Her arms crossed and she fixed him with a look so unimpressed that for a moment Geralt thought he was looking into a mirror. What a scary thought that was. “You and Jaskier haven’t been listening to each other. All you do is blow up and yell and say hurtful things and storm off. I won’t be unlocking you two until you work this out.”

“Now, that doesn’t really seem necessary. We’ll be fine, Ciri, we always are,” Jaskier said. He tried to gesture with his hands, now that Geralt had dropped his wrists, but it took just one tug of their joined arms and a dirty look from Geralt for Jaskier to look suitably scolded and put his arm down. “Please let us out.”

“I don’t think you will be fine,” Yennefer said. She moved to stand behind Ciri and placed her hands on Ciri’s shoulders. The look she settled on both Jaskier and Geralt with was chiding, and Geralt wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt like a misbehaving child, but they were certainly treating him like one. “This has gone on long enough. It’s time for you two to grow up and talk to each other. You aren’t a far step from saying or doing something you’ll never come back from, and even if you don’t completely sabotage yourselves, your behavior has been exhausting to deal with.”

She patted Ciri’s shoulders, then strode toward the door. “Ciri and I will be going to a movie,” Yennefer said, pulling the door open and ushering Ciri through it. “You will have this fixed by the time we return, or you will be sleeping in those.”

The door closed and for a long moment, both men were silent, staring dumbfounded at where Yennefer had been standing.

“This is all your fault, you know.” Of course Jaskier would be the one to break the silence.

“How do you figure that?” Geralt scoffed.

“Because you’re the one that refuses to communicate with me. Grunts and hums don’t tell me shit, Geralt, and you have a hair-trigger temper!” Jaskier pointed a finger accusingly at Geralt. Geralt imagined smacking it away, but refrained.

“I have a hair-trigger temper? You went from completely calm to yelling at me last week when I suggested you used a word wrong in that song you were writing!”

“Well you were wrong and I wasn’t asking for criticism! You can’t interrupt my process with unsolicited advice while I’m still on the first draft of the damned thing!” Jaskier swung his hands up, bringing Geralt’s arm with him, and didn’t even look the least bit apologetic about it, despite Geralt’s pointed glare. Geralt tugged his own arm back harshly. “If you could stop being such an insufferable know-it-all for ten seconds and instead talk about what’s actually bothering you, maybe we would be able to work some of this out before we get handcuffed together!”

“Well maybe,” Geralt grumbled back, “If you would stop storming off the moment we have a disagreement, we could actually resolve some of them! But instead you get all huffy and run off and every new fight just rolls off the last one. Maybe they decided on handcuffs to stop you.”

“Well what do you propose we do about this now?” Jaskier asked, crossing his arms. Geralt grunted and pulled his own arm away, and Jaskier huffed in return as his arms were uncrossed. “Stop moving my arm about like I’m a puppet!”

“Stop making me,” Geralt answered. “I propose we find a way out of these handcuffs.”

Ten minutes later found Geralt storming around the apartment looking for something, anything, that would break through the handcuffs. Unfortunately, they were real, rather than cheap plastic or metal, and it seemed as if Yennefer or Ciri had the keys. What they were doing with real, sturdy handcuffs, he didn’t want to know, but he was sure that nothing short of bolt cutters would get them free. Jaskier trailed along behind as Geralt stomped around, offering extremely unhelpful and often pessimistic comments about the unlikelihood of Geralt’s newest plan working.

“At least I’m doing something, Jaskier,” Geralt finally exploded after he had heard enough of Jaskier’s grousing. “Can you do something helpful, instead of just bitching about everything under the sun? Or just shut the hell up?”

Jaskier harrumphed, but at least fell silent. Now, the only sound in the apartment was Geralt throwing open cabinets and drawers and grunting his frustration, while Jaskier silently followed along. Somehow, this was worse.

Geralt slammed a final drawer open with what he honestly had to call a growl, before scrubbing his free hand down his face. The keys were not here, and there was nothing that was going to free them, short of dislocating his own thumb and potentially scraping off half his skin. As much as Geralt did not want to be trapped with Jaskier for at least another hour and a half, he had to admit that damaging his hand was a bit of an overreaction.

“So, you’re done, then?” Jaskier asked, and Geralt could have thrown something at him. “Great, can we go sit down, then?”

They went back to the couch and they both fell heavily onto it. They sat at opposite ends, their arms stretched as far as they could while still being somewhat comfortable, and Geralt rested his chin in his hand, propped up on the arm rest.

“Gods, is being stuck with me for two hours really that terrible?” Jaskier asked after a long moment.

Jaskier let out a laugh that Geralt was sure was supposed to convey levity, but just made Jaskier sound nervous. Hurt, even. Geralt turned his head to look at Jaskier, who was staring down at the hand in his lap, an expression of such schooled stoicism on his face that Geralt almost wanted to know what Jaskier would have looked like if Geralt wasn’t staring.

“Before we could hang out for hours before you told me to shut up. Now it’s like the moment I open my mouth, you wish I was gone.” He turned, resting his own elbow on the armrest, chin in hand and faced as far from Geralt as he could go with his binding. “I just wish I knew what went wrong. I can’t just… turn it off. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

The silence that followed was uncomfortable. Geralt knew it was his turn to break it, that Jaskier had already taken his turn in trying to bridge the gap, but it was hard to form the words. There was so much he wanted to say in response to Jaskier’s question and following statement, but he wasn’t sure if he could. Apparently, he had taken too long, though, because beside him Jaskier let out a sigh.

“Just--forget it. It doesn’t matter. We’ll just… sit here in uncomfortable silence until they get back, and then I'll get out of your hair.”

“It’s not,” Geralt finally said.

“It’s--what?” Jaskier asked. His head began to turn, then abruptly stopped as his shoulders tensed. “What’s not? Not what?”

“Being stuck with you for two hours,” Geralt answered. “It’s not terrible.”

Jaskier snorted and shook his head just slightly. “Sure could have fooled me.”

“I don’t know how to talk to you anymore. I… have a lot of things I want to say. All at once. So I don’t say any of them.” Geralt’s voice was soft now. He felt stupid, talking like this. He wasn’t even making any sense. Jaskier would just be confused, and would want Geralt to explain further, but Geralt wasn’t sure he knew how to.

“Anymore? Nothing changed. I don’t understand why you would suddenly lose the ability to talk to me. And this has been going on for a while. Since… since…”

“Since the Countess.”

Jaskier stopped for a moment, then finally turned to face Geralt, his eyebrows furrowed. “Since the Countess,” he agreed. “But, Geralt--What does she have to do with anything? We broke up for good months ago.”

Geralt shrugged and tried to look away, but Jaskier tugged on their bound wrists insistently until Geralt’s irritation built enough for him to scowl back at Jaskier. Jaskier looked unamused--his lips were pursed as he raised his eyebrows and dipped his chin meaningfully at Geralt.

“We’re finally getting somewhere here. You can’t close off on me now,” Jaskier said, sounding exasperated.

“Things were. You were serious, with her. I thought that was it for you.” Geralt’s face grew hot as he spoke, and he had to look away again. Straight ahead, as if the wall was the most interesting thing he had seen for a long time.

Jaskier did not seem to care that Geralt was embarrassed. He turned more to face Geralt head on, and inched closer until his knee was just barely avoiding touching Geralt’s thigh. “Why would that mean you’re not able to talk to me? Because I was in a relationship? That’s kind of shit, Geralt. You and Yennefer were pretty serious for a while, and nothing changed between us. Besides, Virginia and I broke up.”

Fucking Jaskier. He wanted specifics, and Geralt didn’t know if he could give him that. Honesty about his feelings were not something Geralt was particularly skilled at.

“I… didn’t like you two together.”

“I’m really not sure, one, why you wouldn’t have voiced your concerns earlier, or two, how that was any of your business. But. That doesn’t exactly matter, considering we broke up. Why didn’t things go back to normal, then?” Jaskier’s voice was so serious, so confused, as if he was trying to solve a particularly difficult puzzle. Geralt didn’t understand how he wasn’t getting this. Jaskier was supposed to understand implicit, nebulous ideas.

“Because I had already realized why I didn’t like you two together. And why I didn’t like any of the people you rebounded with after.”

“And why was that?” Jaskier asked. Geralt scowled, and Jaskier snorted. “Geralt, I know you think you’re bearing your soul to me right now, but all I’m getting is you talking around something. Careful, if you don’t throw me more of a bone, I’m going to jump to the conclusion that you were jealous of Virginia or the other people I’ve hooked up with since.”

Geralt didn’t answer, just stared up at the ceiling until he heard Jaskier gasp beside him. Jaskier scooted closer.

“Geralt,” Jaskier said, insistently. Geralt grunted. “Geralt, look at me.” Geralt did, and immediately clammed up at just how earnest and awed Jaskier looked. “Geralt, do you want to go out with me?”

The question was met with a scowl and a groan, and Geralt looked away again, only for Jaskier to place a hand on Geralt’s upper arm.

“No, I’m sorry, I was--I wasn’t clarifying, I was asking. Would you go on a date with me? Like. As soon as possible. Immediately.” Now, his soft, breathy laugh sounded a bit embarrassed. “I didn’t--I didn’t know this was on the table. If I had, I would have asked you out a lot sooner, we could’ve worked out whatever aggression in a much more fun way, if you catch my meaning--”

“Yes, Jaskier,” Geralt interrupted, just to get him to shut up. “I want to go on a date. Just stop.”

Jaskier laughed and nodded, scooting forward again until he was practically hanging off Geralt’s arm. Geralt met his eyes again, faced with a wicked grin.

“We could get a head start, if you wanted. On date-like activities,” Jaskier suggested.

When Yennefer and Ciri returned almost two hours later, Yennefer threw the keys at them and told them to get a room, only to usher Ciri back out the door groaning something about Men. Geralt and Jaskier barely noticed.

#geraskier #geraskier fanfic #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geraskier au #geraskier modern au #my writing #octoberfest #me: i won't be posting before work anymore #me literally the next day: posts before work #but we are celebrating #romtober

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floral-and-fine · 4 years

Text

Heaven Bent part 2

Daryl Dixon x female reader

Part 1

Summary: The reader finds Sophia lost in the woods, too bad neither of them have any sense of direction.

A/n: Thanks for the support on part 1! Daryl is probably the hardest character I've ever written for. I've got a lot of ideas for this fic, just hoping I stay motivated. Thanks @ewokiee for all the help especially when I’m stuck!

You groaned, rolling over to your side and snuggling further into the covers. This had to be the softest bed in the world, with fluffy plush pillows stuffed with down feathers under your head and a thick warm blanket draped over your body. You wanted nothing more than to stay here and never leave. God, this was a million times better than cold nights sleeping on the ground, this bed was heaven, absolute heaven.

However, how you got here though was still a bit foggy, the last thing you could remember was an angel with a horse coming to save you and Sophia. Maybe this truly was heaven you thought to yourself. Either way, you were better off here than you were in that forest.

You peeked an eye open as you heard the door creak. An old man with white hair stepped into the room. There was an air of wisdom and sensibility about him.

“God?” You whispered, sitting up slightly.

The man gave you a skeptical look. “You must still be delirious,” he mused. “I’m Hershel, and this is my home.”

You nodded, taking a better look around. The room was decorated nicely, a typical farmhouse interior with white trim around the doorframe and windows. Definitely a nice place though.

He walked over to the side of the bed and looked you over. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you answered, stretching your arms above your head.

“Good,” Hershel muttered. “When you first got here you weren’t making a lick of sense. You and that girl were in those woods for at least a week.”

“How is she?”

“She’s going to be alright. She just needs to rest,” he explained. “Most people had given up hope on finding her, my guess is she would’ve died without your help.”

You nodded, satisfied knowing Sophia was going to be okay.“That reminds me,” you started. “Where’d my angel go?”

Hershel quirked an eyebrow. “Angel?” He repeated.

“Yeah, I was saved by an angel,” you explained, trying to remember what he looked like exactly. You recalled his wings and halo, and that he didn't quite act like an angel should.

Hershel stifled a laugh, “That man is a lot of things, but I doubt he’s any kind of angel.”

“I know, but he’s an angel to me,” You looked down fiddling with the blanket on your lap, “I’d like to thank him now that I’m thinking more clearly… I can’t remember if I did when he found us.”

Hershel nodded, “If I see him, I’ll send him this way. Trish will be bringing up something for you to eat and some clean clothes.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, your eyes meeting his before he left the room.

…

In long strides, Daryl headed towards the RV, wanting to check in real quick on Sophia and Carol.

The look on everyone’s face when he returned with her and a stranger ranged from genuine surprise to shock.

Carol ran as fast as she could, meeting him at the edge of the woods. Immediately she crumbled to her knees, crying, as Daryl placed Sophie in her arms, muttering thank you over and over again.

Other than Daryl, it seemed like no one else believed that Sophia was still alive out there, and most of them had given up on finding her too.

Daryl thought back to you, back to the way you smiled at him while you were delirious, it was an image he couldn’t get out of his head. He couldn’t remember a time anyone else ever looked at him like that.

Just as the RV was in sight, Daryl could overhear voices coming from the woods nearby. Carefully, he wandered over, curious as to who was being so secretive.

Even with their voices hushed, it didn’t take Daryl long to identify who was talking. He frowned to himself listening closer, it was Rick and Shane, and from the sound of it, they were fighting over something.

“So what? We’re supposed to take in every stray we meet?” Shane argued.

“She helped one of our own,” Rick reasoned, stepping forward. “Sophia is alive because of her. We owe it to this woman.”

“We aren’t living in that kind of world anymore,” Shane insisted, gritting his teeth.

“Take a look around you,” Rick hissed. “We’re here right now because of the decency of others, we aren’t those kinds of people, we aren’t animals, we aren’t just gonna abandon her.”

Daryl huffed as Shane tried to pull that same bullshit like he did over the search for Sophia. All that survival of the fittest crap. If that really were the case, their group would only consist of him, Rick, and Shane.

“Daryl should’ve left her in those woods,” Shane spat. “We can’t afford to have another mouth to worry about.”

Daryl clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles turning white. Shane was really starting to show his true colors, a part of Daryl was beginning to think the group would be better off without that asshole.

Rick shook his head, he couldn’t believe Shane would even suggest telling that woman she had to go, to send her back out there on her own. And now this? Did he really think so little about the lives of others?

“I don’t know what your problem is, but all that shit about numbers or math or whatever ain’t right, she’s a person, a good person… She stays. End of story.”

Rick stared Shane down, making his point crystal clear. He knew the rest of the group would agree with him if it came to the point of getting the others involved. Rick had no idea what was going on inside Shane’s head, but it was sending him red flags.

Finally, Shane scoffed and stomped away, obviously still pissed off.

Sighing, Rick ran a hand over his face, he was going to need to keep a closer eye on Shane. This wasn’t the first time he’s made Rick worry. Shane was acting unpredictably lately, and some of his behavior was off the rails, there was no telling what he might do next.

Daryl started walking back the way he came, for a hot second there it seemed like things might have gotten ugly, in which he would’ve stepped in and backed Rick up.

…

You took another big bite of the apple Trish had brought up, moaning as you savored the taste, it felt like ages since you had fresh produce.

“You can take a shower in there,” Trish explained gesturing to the attached bathroom. She sat some clean clothes on the dresser for you. “Tried to find you some things in your size, hope they fit alright.”

Your eyes widened as you processed what she just said… you could take a shower? You almost wanted to celebrate over the news. Honestly, ever since waking up it felt like you had won some kind of lottery or a free vacation. You thanked her as she left the room.

The moment she was gone, you scurried out of the bed, stripping out of the dingy clothing you had been wearing for the last week. You could only imagine how terrible you smelled, surprised anyone welcomed you into such a nice home.

Turning on the faucet to the tub, you practically squealed when the water started heating up. Carefully, you removed your jewelry, setting it all down on the sink.

You couldn’t even describe the sound you made as you stepped in under the showerhead. It was a strange mix between a sigh, a laugh, and a moan.

A week’s worth of grime and dirt rinsed off your body and down the drain. You scrubbed every inch of yourself, wanting to make sure you took full advantage of this chance. Who knows if you’d be fortunate enough to meet anyone else with a working shower on your travels.

For a few extra minutes, you just stood under the running water, enjoying every second of warm water before finally getting out of the shower.

…

“Ah, there you are,” Hershel said as Daryl approached the house. The old man was sitting in a chair on the porch, keeping an eye on Rick’s group. “Our new guest was asking for you.”

Daryl narrowed his eyes, unsure what you’d want from him.

"She seems to think she and that little girl have a guardian angel looking out for them," Hershel chuckled.

Daryl scowled. "Don't know what you're talkin' 'bout," he grumbled, climbing up the steps of the porch.

Being inside the farm house made Daryl feel uncomfortable like he was too dirty or something. All his life he couldn’t remember being welcomed into a house this nice looking.

Careful not to touch anything, he started going up the stairs. He didn’t even dare to touch the white banister, worried that he was tracking in dirt on his boots.

He knocked on the door and stuffed his hands back into pockets.

“Come in,” you called, still drying your hair. You were grinning like an idiot when Daryl stepped in. “There’s my angel!” You announced.

"Will you knock it off with all that angel crap?" Daryl demanded trying his best to be intimidating and tough.

You giggled, setting the towel down, and approached him. Your eyes and smile were the same, the exact same as they had been the first time you had mistaken him for an angel. He’d never admit it out loud, but he liked it, the way that you saw him.

“Why? As far as I’m concerned you’re heaven sent. Without you, me and Sophia would’ve died out there.”

Daryl turned his head away, rubbing the back of his neck, he’d be damned if he allowed you to catch him blushing.

“Anyways, I asked for you, cause I wanted to say thank you,” you explained, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder, right before giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks,” you murmured.

Daryl scoffed, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand. “It was nothin’.”

You shook your head, “it wasn’t nothing.”

His piercing eyes met yours and your heart practically stopped. Just as you were about to lean forward again, Daryl cleared his throat, “you oughta put on a shirt, before going out there.”

You laughed, grabbing the white tee off the dresser, you were too distracted by Daryl to realize you were only wearing pants and a bra.

He rolled his eyes and left the room closing the door behind him. As you were pulling the shirt over your head you could hear him slowly descending the stairs muttering something to himself.

…

“You mean it?” You asked Rick flabbergasted, worried you didn’t hear him right. “Are you really saying I can stay with you all?”

“I am,” Rick nodded. “As far as I’m concerned you're one of us.”

With an excited shriek, you slung your arms around his neck in a quick hug. “Thank you!”

Rick laughed and patted your back.

You were ecstatic, when he asked to speak with alone and had pulled you to the side away from everyone, you assumed he was going to tell you that you had to go. But instead you received the best news imaginable for your situation.

As you pulled away from Rick, you felt someone watching you, it made the hairs on the back of your neck stand.

Looking around you saw a man with a buzzed haircut who was stalking off, he hadn’t spoken a word to you or bothered to introduce himself, but you heard the others refer to him as Shane. His body language was very aggressive, he was definitely pissed about something.

Once he was out of sight, you rubbed your arms up and down getting rid of the goosebumps that had appeared and made a mental note to avoid that man as much as possible. Whoever he was, he was giving off some serious bad vibes and nothing good was going to come of it.

“Did he tell you!?” An excited voice screeched, snapping you out of your stupor. Two thin arms wrapped around your middle, hugging you tightly.

You laughed, “he did!”

“So that means you’re staying with us, right?” Sophia asked, practically squeezing the life out of you.

“Yep.”

Looking up from Sophia, you saw her mother standing nearby, a soft smile on her face as she watched the two of you.

You gave her a small wave, before returning Sophia’s hug.

…

You settled into a routine with the group rather quickly, helping out with whatever you could from laundry to going on runs with Glenn. They were all friendly people for the most part with the exception of Shane.

Anytime the man was around, it put you on edge even with the others around. It seemed pretty apparent that he didn’t like you much, he’d seem perfectly fine until he noticed that you were nearby. All you could hope for was that he wouldn’t try to persuade Rick to force you to leave.

You were humming a random song to yourself while hanging laundry on the clothesline. It was a good day for it, plenty of sunshine and even a nice breeze, these clothes would dry in no time.

Reaching down into the wicker basket, you pulled out a white t-shirt, as you were pinning it to the line someone grabbed your forearm.

You gasped, where the hell did Shane come from?

“Shane,” you stuttered, wrenching your arm out of his grasp. “You scared me.”

He looked down at you, his eyes full of hatred towards you. “You’re going to get us all killed.”

You furrowed your brow, “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb,” He snapped, shaking his head. “Not everyone is capable of surviving this… you’re weak…”

You shrunk back, worried that whatever you did or tried next would only set him off.

He took another step forward, “I’ll be damned if I let you risk it for the rest of us.”

Daryl's eyes narrowed as he came out of the woods. His grip on his crossbow tightening. Your body language alone was enough for him to notice that you were uncomfortable.

“Hey!” Daryl shouted. “Thought you wanted me to teach you how to skin an animal.” He held up the rabbits he just caught.

You blinked in surprise, looking at Daryl, his expression was practically murderous as he stared at Shane, who immediately backed off, taking a few steps away from you.

“Well I ain’t got all day,” Daryl complained, gesturing for you to come with him.

Finally, it dawned on you what he was doing.

“R-Right,” you squeaked, quickly shuffling away and over to Daryl. You kept your head down, still feeling Shane’s eyes on you.

“C’mon,” Daryl said, gently placing a hand on your upper back and guiding you back towards the RV.

“Thanks, Angel,” you murmured, once you believed you were far away enough that Shane couldn’t hear you.

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered, turning around and giving Shane a dirty look. The next time that asshole decides to corner you like that, Daryl was going to beat the shit out of him.

Tags: @xaestheticalien @twdeadfanfic @amaroho

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl x you #twd fanfic #twd #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic

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k-s-morgan · 3 years

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You know, I always look forward to and dread your updates. Don’t get me wrong, I love your writing, your metas and all the fics you have written but ‘What he grows to be’ gives me such an upset feeling. Maybe dark stories are not my cup of tea but I’ve read dark stories before and they haven’t affected me the way yours does. Throughout the whole story my heart feels heavy but I can’t bring myself to stop reading. Also I have a question: could you please explain Harry’s devotion to Tom? Like I don’t study psychology or anything so I’m not an expert (so correct me if I’m wrong) but I don’t see a reason for Harry to sacrifice so much for someone like Tom who is nothing but cruel towards him. He’s been condescending always treating Harry like a helpless thing who needs looking after. He is cruel and manipulative and has a complete disregard towards anything about personal boundaries. I mean he’s basically ,in a loose term, a psychopath. I can understand the way you write Tom, I don’t get the way you’ve written Harry. He’s so weak. He has none of that courage he used to have in the books. He doesn’t have that spirit that made me fall in love with him. He gives in so easily. He forgives easily. He has no morals left. He’s not the Harry I know. Like he literally excused multiple murders Tom committed because he loves him? It’s just so hard to comprehend. I tried to put myself in Harry’s place and instead of feeling sympathetic towards him, I felt angry at how much he has lost himself. I don’t see any thing good in Tom. I would understand for Harry to love him with such abandon if he has anything good in him. But Tom has done nothing but made him suffer. Why did Harry change so much? Just because he only has Tom in this world? Because he raised him? Tom was never a helpless, innocent child for Harry to feel compassion towards him. He was cruel and manipulative from the beginning. It just frustrates me how Harry keeps forgiving Tom and then apologizing to him after his ‘punishments’. It might be cruel for Harry to ‘die’ as a punishment but still does it warrant him forgiving Tom so easily after the atrocities he has committed? It’s a complex situation, I understand and truly I don’t mean to offend you or anything. I’m just trying to understand. I’d love to hear your thoughts on this because you know them better than I do as it is your own story. I don’t know if it makes me a bad person but it always gives me so much satisfaction to see Tom suffer even though it’s for such a short time. Please tell me he won’t get away with everything like always does and that Harry won’t just forgive him easily like he usually does. Because what Tom just did was so cruel and horrifying that I was in shock when I read it. The way he used Harry’s weakeness against him... sorry for the rant!

Hello! First of all, thank you so much for such a long and detailed ask - it's always great to know that my work affects people, even if it evokes so much frustration :D I firmly believe in the death of the author concept, so I don't feel like I can impose my understanding of characters on my readers. Everyone sees them in different ways: some readers think Harry overreacted, others think he should kill Tom and be done with it, etc. What He Grows to Be is certainly a disturbing story, and I think it differs from my other works because Tom and Harry are very different. With Will and Hannibal, violence and manipulations are mutual while here, Harry is genuinely kind and empathetic, and Tom takes advantages of that.

As for my personal view: I don't think Harry is weak. I think he is very fucked up, even more so than in canon because he had to live through even more trauma after the war in WHGTB. In canon, being understanding, forgiving, and empathetic are some of Harry's major traits. It always shakes me to think about how he named his child Albus Severus after two people who caused him so much pain. Yes, Dumbledore loved him in his own way, but ultimately, Harry was his weapon. Years of abuse, every interaction, every test - everything was done with a purpose of manipulating him into being a perfect self-sacrificial hero. And yet Harry still loves Dumbledore with devotion, he still holds awe for him. Same with Snape: yes, he wasn't as terrible of a person as Harry imagined. He suffered a lot, he tried to redeem himself, but Harry never saw anything but hostility and derision from him. And yet he forgives everything to the point of naming a child after him because Snape loved his mother and took care of him.

Harry didn't hate his relatives after years of abuse. He managed to feel empathy even for Voldemort, and not just once. He tried to give him a chance during the final battle, tried to make him see where he went wrong - that speaks of a unique kind of compassion and a big lack of self-worth. In WHGTB, due to the circumstances, all these traits are amplified.

As it could be expected, the story of Harry's all-encompassing love for Tom started with pity. When he first adopted him, he felt reserved and wary. He didn't like him, he didn't trust him, but he still started to grow attached to him because that's who Harry is: he can't share meals, teach, talk, and decorate house with a person without feeling something for them in the process. When Tom broke the vase and tried to repair it, terrified and guilty, Harry's pity and attachment won out. In that moment, he saw a little fragile boy who was never loved and who craved approval and acceptance. And Harry was determined to give it to him.

For a while, like you said, Tom was rude and condescending. But he showed he's capable of regret and remorse. He tried to heal Harry after hurting him; he listened to him with fascination during lessons and was willing to change his ideas; he laughed and cooked with him. Affection got stronger, and with it, what seemed annoying started to come across like lovable quirks. Harry despised Tom's showing-off at first, but then, after he got used to him and his company, he started finding it funny and endearing. He invested all of himself into this child, making him into his life goal - he couldn't not love him. He started to live for the small moments of Tom's affection and acceptance. His love for Ron, Hermione, his parents, Sirius - it combined and focused on Tom alone because in many ways, Tom was the key to making sure that when these people are born, they live a fulfilling and happy life. In Harry's mind, the more he loved Tom, the more chances of succeeding he had, and then the boundaries of this love started to blur, and Tom began to genuinely outshine every other person he has ever known because he was there and others were not.

When Gringotts happened and Tom's perception shifted, Harry was showered with his absolute devotion and focus. You said that you don't see anything good in Tom, but Harry does - and it's also important to remember that before Beth, Tom was very careful about not letting him see his real face. In Harry's eyes, Tom learned to help others, like when he offered his hand to a Muggle boy. He discarded the ideas of blood superiority and developed a far more moral outlook. He learned to be caring, worrying about Harry when he's sick, making potions for him, covering him with a blanket at night, helping other students, achieving equality, etc. Tom's devotion is a completely irresistible thing to Harry because he's always been responsive to kindness, no matter how limited it was.

After Beth, it was already too late for him. Love and empathy are a terrible weapon in Harry's case: he can't just unlove someone who has become his main life purpose. The only way is to try to understand Tom, and as long as this understanding exists, Harry finds an ability to forgive him.

You said Tom has done nothing but make him suffer, but for Harry, that's not true. 80% of time he spends with Tom is the happiest time of his life. Tom became the only person in his world, the person Harry poured of all his love, loneliness, and longing into. Tom is a family Harry never had. He was a child Harry could relate to, so he spoiled him, argued with him, shopped with him, and basked in the happiness of making him smile; Tom was a friend ready to listen and reassure, to discuss how their days passed, to do something fun together; now, Tom has started to slowly growing into something more. The celebrations, the shopping, the holidays, the flying - all these are happy memories for Harry. The only major instances of pain were Beth and now Charlus. Harry feels shattered every time Tom comes close to acting on his darkness, but as compared to the time they spend together, happiness still exceeds the heartbreak.

When it comes to breaking his limits, Harry doesn't forgive easily. He didn't speak to Tom 6 months after Beth and he subjected him to a terrible trauma as punishment; the thought of Tom killing Charlus almost drove him crazy, but he couldn't ignore the fact that it happened before the system and that Tom has been trying since then. After the ritual, Harry leaves - and yes, I can assure you that forgiveness is definitely not coming any time soon! Although as the toxic cycle of their relationship shows, Harry can't really stay away from Tom indefinitely either.

Harry is happy with Tom, and he knows Tom loves him. He understands that Tom is a psychopath and that ordinary criteria cannot apply to him, and so he struggles with making sure that Tom follows a lighter path while praising him every time there is some progress. In many ways, Harry succeeded: Tom is not planning on massive destruction. He doesn't discriminate; he made sure that other purebloods became more tolerant; he still wants power, but he's getting to it in ways that don't presuppose violence and murder. Every time Tom shows darkness, it's in an instance concerning Harry.

Harry loves being loved, even though Tom's love is not healthy. He loves being protected because this is something he missed severely in his first life. A big part of him wants to be taken care of, to let go and just enjoy life without constantly having to make difficult decisions. Tom gives him that, and under some conditions, they could be happy together, finding a perfect balance.

Alas, it's not going to happen any time soon (or maybe at all ;)!

#my fics #tomarry

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