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cheelduh · 3 years

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A Liar’s Bait

Pairing: Kaeya x fem!reader

Warnings: Idk fatui abuse? Also Aether gets his braid pulled don’t hate me. Also unedited asf.

Synopsis: There’s a hiccup in the elaborate plan you’ve concocted to rescue your friends, and said hiccup comes in the form of a handsome Cavalry Captain that doesn’t have the foggiest of clues as to what personal space is.

"Ah darling, I didn't know you'd be wondering about this late in the night." The charming cavalry captain, Kaeya, sang from behind you.

For a brief second, you froze in place, but not long enough for him to see through your motives. "Kaeya," You turned to him naturally, and spoke your next words like an actor revising a memorized script. "Have to return a book. You know how Lisa gets."

"At these ungodly hours?" He raised a brow, and you blinked away any remnants of sleep in your eyes at the mention of time.

Barely skipping a beat, you gave him an acknowledging smile. "I have some tasks to do tomorrow. It's better if I return it now." The book that is supposedly due tomorrow is waved hurriedly in the air, as if to exaggerate your point.

"Though it seems like Lisa has went home." He pointed out, cornering you against the brick wall, a knowing look in the deep pools of his eyes.

Of course you knew Lisa wasn't in. That was the entire base of your plan. There were a total of four knights on rotation at the headquarters. It was simple really, sneak into the library with your authority as trusted aide, and if push came to shove, an easy knockout would do.

However, Kaeya's sudden appearance put a hiccup through your plans. It would take more than a sock to the face to put him out of commission.

"Oh really?" You tilted your head in confusion, eyes widening, as you eyed him. "I probably should have came by earlier. Well then, I'll just have to put it on her desk with a note."

"You could trust it with me, and I'll return it tomorrow. Captain's word." He replied innocently, snatching the book from your fingers.

Archons, you absolutely did not have the time for this.

Aether and Paimon were waiting after all.

You decided not to shove a stick up his ass, and instead let your anger blow over silently.

"Your hands are clammy darling," Kaeya went on, flipping through the text just for show. "I can feel it on the book."

'Ew that's gross' You wanted to say, but decided to play his game instead.

"Guess I'm nervous." A forced a blush made its way onto your face. Okay maybe it wasn't forced, but you couldn't blame yourself for letting his subtle teasing get to you.

"Oh?" He feigned curiosity, letting the book close with a soft thud. "My presence often does that to people." The cocky undertone in his voice made you fantasize smacking his face a hundred times over.

"Of course," It was a struggle to not speak in a dry tone. "You are truly..." A small cough escaped your lips, and you tried to stumble upon the words, wishing upon barbatos that the flattering would work. "charming."

Kaeya's grin widened, all cat like, and for a brief moment you felt your heart stutter. He swooped in to cage you against the wall. "I didn't know you were so bold dear."

Before he could utter another flirtatious remark, you pushed yourself close to him, distracting him for a mere moment just to strategically slip the book into the safety of your arms. "Thanks but no thanks. I'll return the book myself."

With a swift duck under his arm, you made your way to HQ before a cold hand grabbed your shoulder. You ceased any movement and glanced over your shoulder, a frown made clear.

Kaeya narrowed his eyes at you, clearly not liking how you weren't becoming a bumbling idiot at his flirty behaviour like you usually did. You'd love to—but you just didn't have the time to deal with him, not when the fatui were breathing down your neck.

"I'll go with you." He said slowly, testing you for any reactions. Shit. He's on to you. "I can't let a pretty lady wander all alone. You might get lost."

Like hell you would. You knew everything about the damn base as if it were the back of your hand. Kaeya understood this as well, but instead, he opted to wake up every morning and choose to be a dickwad.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "Lead the way."

Kaeya seemed satisfied at your reply, and slid his grip down from your shoulder, straight to your free hand. He walked in front of you, pulling you behind him like you were a clumsy toddler.

His gaze wasn't on you, so you took the chance to examine your surroundings, trying to find the presence that was tailing you.

Kaeya being this close to you wasn't looking good for you at all. The walls had eyes and ears, and the only way to apprehend the risk was by doing as they said. Only then would you get your opening.

Paimon...Aether...hold on a bit longer.

With a nod to the guards, Kaeya and you made your way in, stopping right in front of the library. With a puzzled expression on your face, you were about to question his intentions, until he readjusted his grip so that your fingers were intertwined.

You were sure your face was flushed in all kinds of colours by now.

"Shall we enter?" He asked you, mirth clear in his eyes.

The only signal you managed to give him was a quick nod.

The library smelled of dark oak and silk flowers. You briefly remembered Aether giving her the plant from his adventures back in Liyue. The bookshelves were decorated with intricate designs, filled with countless of books that had all earned their rightful place.

And you were about to steal one, summoning chaos into Lisa's beloved library. It would be you who might deliver an archived book straight into the hands of the very people who sought out violence in order to achieve power.

"I'll check it in for you," Kaeya let go of your hand after dragging you all the way to the front desk, only to outstretch it for the text you were gripping too hard.

"Oh yeah," You handed it to him—willingly this time. "thank you. I'll be looking around."

It was understood what you had to do. Easily finding the locked case from which you would slip the book into your clothes only to make a run for it wouldn't cut it.

The captain would make too much noise and track you down himself before you could get the chance to shove the book up the Fatui's ass, get Aether and Paimon their freedom back. Then once you'd ensure their safety, you'd beat the living shit out of the Fatui agents right after. It's not like you'd have a choice.

The whole reason you were in this whole mess was because you decided to help Aether out with his latest commission, which happened to be clearing out a hilichurl camp smack dab in the middle of a road. The camp blocked all imports and exports, proving to be a stick in the butt for the merchants of Monstadt.

You, oh helpful and kind you, assisted him with the task, seeing as you were walking back from a fishing trip.

Turned out that the hilichurl camp was a cover for a bunch of Knights of Favonious hungry Fatui agents who were hellbent on getting the one and only copy of a book Lisa had tucked away in the library.

While you two could've easily ended every single one of those shady bastards, enemy reinforcements came out of nowhere and dug their claws right into Aether.

At least that was the cover story.

Violà, a hostage situation was born.

They promised to let Aether go on one condition. If you obtained a book they had their eyes on for quite some time. But their promise had as much worth as Venti's word did when he told you that the drinks were on him.

They couldn't risk the Knights finding out. You were just another loose string that would be cut off along your two friends.

Locating the book and hiding it in your outfit undetected was as effortless as it could get. What was coming would not be.

"Darling," Kaeya called out to you, but his voice is different. More darker than usual. You didn't summon your spear just yet.

"I've finished up. Let's get going yeah?" His footsteps are light on the wooden planks of the floor, but his words are solid. Frozen even.

You breathed out, but refused to turn around.

"You know," He continued, halting next to your shoulder, leaning his sweet mouth down to your ear. His hot breath fanned against your neck, but you paid no heed. "A liar is no stranger to a liar."

You lunged to the side, spinning on your heel as your back hit the railing in the middle of the library. The captain reacted quickly by swiping the air, but ultimately failed to grab you as you gracefully tipped yourself over, landing right on your feet.

There was now a floor that separated the two of you. Just as you had intended.

The reflexes you showcased earned you a smooth-voiced chuckle, an amused smirk gracing his lips. He leaned against the ledge with both hands, bending down his upper body.

"Oh my. We've got ourselves a thief. You didn't think I wouldn't notice, right?" He contemplated, weapon materializing right then and there, ready to put on a good show. You could read him like a book just as he could you. "Can't believe you're such a naughty girl."

Despite his teasing tone, his eyes remained cold and calculating.

"Don't flatter yourself." You spoke monotonously, brushing a hand in the air. "The date stamp didn't match up right? Tight time frame, couldn't really think about the logistics."

Kaeya narrowed his eye shrewdly, offended. "I can't let you go you know."

"I don't need you to." You quipped, but then placed a finger on your chin. "On second thought I kind of do. How about a friendly transaction? I really don't want to fight you."

"And I do not wish to fight you, darling." Kaeya's face split into a viscous smile, a far less forgiving gaze meeting you halfway. This was your chance to tell him, he was giving you a generous opening to explain yourself.

You bit your lip, feeling the unknown presence yet again. The walls had eyes and ears. The walls had vengeful teeth that would dig into you the minute you'd let it slip.

"I need you to let me go." You clutched the leather of your gloves desperately, your prior confidence flickering. Begging was the only card you had left.

His hardened gaze on your form softened slightly, but disappeared almost instantly.

You didn't have to wait for him to voice his answer. It was as clear as day.

The captain didn't waste any more time when jumping over the ledge.

By the time Kaeya's feet made impact, your pole arm was already aimed and ready to strike.

"Let's dance."

After a tactical withdrawal, you found yourself taking tentative steps on the outskirts of Springvale. It wouldn't have been possible if Kaeya didn't let his guard down momentarily.

The cuts on your shoulder still stung, but it was difficult to spare any time towards the throbbing.

Why were you walking so slow? Did your plan not work? No, it should have. You calculated every risk. But why the hell were you prolonging the inevitable end?

It didn't matter. Either way, you'd get to sink your teeth into some unfortunate fatui agents, injecting them with centuries worth of pain.

The opening was nearby, you noted, the pathway familiar. You always were good with maps, oftentimes lending a hand to the certain young outrider with a bright smile and kind heart.

You allowed yourself to calm your erratic heartbeat, and slow your breathing as to get a clearer sense around you. There were two, but before there had been three. The third one revealed himself when you deployed your "return the book" scheme, flipping through the guidebook carefully to see if you left potential breadcrumbs.

Gnawing at your lip, you followed the trail, the world behind you quieting down to a silent whisper.

It seemed like forever when you reached the destination, halting your movements.

Your ears perked up at their footsteps before you could catch a glimpse of them, but made no sudden movements except for dropping the book on the ground as they had instructed.

It was odd that you felt as calm as you did. It could've been because of your confidence in your abilities, or perhaps, something else entirely.

The pyro agent appeared from one of the bushes, right after shoving a bruised and gagged Aether. Paimon came next, in a cage controlled by a fatui cicin mage who wore a wicked smile on her stupid face.

They managed to shut Paimon up real quick. You wondered what it took, but not for too long.

"Hey now," You grinned, but your fingernails were digging crescents in your palm. "I thought we agreed that no one gets hurt?"

"The traveller here is a real handful." The fatui agent hissed from under his mask, harshly yanking Aether by his braid.

Aether, immobile, scowled in discomfort and continued to struggle through his bounds.

You didn't acknowledge the blond nor the agent's words, alternatively choosing to nod your head to the book instead. "Here as promised."

The agent motioned to the Cicin mage, who walked forward in order to obtain the book safely. She handed it back to him, and he briefly flipped through it, seemingly satisfied.

Just like that, Aether was knocked down on his knees next to your feet, Paimon thrown like a sack of potatoes atop him. They were out of the red. Your signal to strike.

"Unfortunately, promises are beneath our pay grade." The agent placed a finger on his chin, as if in thought. "However, you prove to be a valuable asset."

"Oh really?" You piped, eyes crinkling in mock excitement. "I'm really glad a lowly fatui scum thinks so highly of me. It's truly an honour."

Said fatui agent glared knives straight through his mask.

"Kill them." He ordered, and the Cicin mage hummed a sound of delight, summoning her electro-flies or whatever the hell those things were called.

Your polearm took shape in the clutches of your left hand, a twisted grin plastered on your face.

"I'm gonna have so much fun tearing you apart." The bloodlust you emanated was enough to choke the air out of both the mage and agent.

Pouncing on your prey, you didn't give the mage a chance to scream before you landed a roundhouse kick straight to her ribs. She made a guttural choking sound, moving to clutch herself. You ended the move by twisting your weapon into the air to send a shattering hit straight to her temple.

Your blow successfully knocked her out, the kick back proving to be enough to send the pyro agent flying into a nearby tree.

"I really expected something more challenging." A pout formed on your lips, eyebrows furrowed. "Hopefully you can make up for what your mage lacked. If not, I'll be disappointed."

The agent chuckled painfully. "You won't get the chance. You can't take on all of us."

"All of you?" You questioned, tilting your head, eyes widening innocently. "Oh you mean those pesks that were tailing me? So sorry, but they're gone now."

"W-what?!" He sputtered, quick on his feet as he pulled out his knife, charging it with elemental energy. "How could you have—"

"How unfair," A low tone whistled, and Kaeya finally made an appearance, smiles and everything. "Don't give her all the credit. You're making me feel left out."

The pyro agent scattered around his flames, preparing to shake up the battle—

You lost your patience and picked up a decent sized rock, aimed for his nose, and sent a plunging attack.

The agent lost consciousness before he hit the ground.

"Oh come on!" Kaeya's dejected groan rang in your ears. "Could've let me have a turn."

"You already had your turn." You sent a pointed stare at him, bending down near the mage to wipe the blood of your pole arm with her clothes. "Two times if I recall."

He rolled his eyes playfully, forgetting the banter to go and free the traveller of his bounds.

—

"Let's me get this straight." Jean said with fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. "You two roughed up some fatui agents without informing the knights, and put the traveller at risk." There's this look of disappointment in her face, but you're used to it by now.

Hanging around Kaeya sure had its ups and downs.

"Precisely. The folder on your desk has all the details. Enough proof to have them in our custody.” The cavalry captain nodded along, and it somehow made you feel like you were a kid being scolded after getting caught stealing cookies from the jar.

"It was an operation that the traveller agreed to," You declared so her brewing anger didn't overflow. "The perfect plan to catch them in the act. It was my idea. The captain didn’t really know until later.”

"Although I’m quite hurt you didn’t fill me in any sooner, I must say, watching those ignorant fatui diplomats scramble to try and find an explanation is going to be worth the wait.” He spoke with a hint of a smile.

The both of you fist bumped. Jean wasn't amused.

The acting grand master produced a stern glare. "Y/N, assist Lisa with anything she needs for the rest of the week. And the Cavalry Captain here won't be going out on patrols any time soon."

That was a clear lie, but Jean had to keep up appearances after all. What kind of acting grand master would she be if she didn't at least pretend to have some sort of authority over her two trouble-making subordinates.

With a dramatic sigh, you spun on your heel to leave.

“Hey Y/N,” Jean called out, and you tilted your head, wanting to know if she changed her mind and decided to make your punishment worse. “Good work today. That will be all.” She avoided eye contact, feigning deeper interest in the pileup on her desk.

After the "briefing”, as Kaeya liked to call it, you found yourself outside of HQ with him right on your tail.

"Not too shabby for a day's work." He winked, smoothing out his words. "I must say, I'm quite impressed with how this went. Didn't expect you to put so much faith in me.”

"How did you get my signal anyways?" You snorted. "The entire scheme was off the bat. I had to wink at the traveller like five times to get him to showcase a crappy fight stance and become my fake hostage. Dense little guy.”

There was a momentary pause before Kaeya enlightened you with an answer.

"You hate reading, and you're irresponsible." He pointed out cheekily, poking at your nose. You scrunched your nose and turned away, cheeks warming. "The abyss would freeze over before you ever read a book, let alone steal one. That’s several red flags for me.”

He kept going, finding the topic of this to be quite interesting. “Not to mention returning the “Code of Conduct” handbook.” The relentless teasing was one of the reasons why you dreaded work,

"Gee thanks." You remarked unceremoniously. “I didn’t need your help at all. You just love sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

"Aww don't be so low spirited." He suspended your movements by curling an arm around your waist. "Let me treat you for a job well done darling." His hot breath fanned your ear, lips teasingly close.

Dammit dammit...why does he have to be so close!

"That's unfair." Paimon screeched from thin air, scaring the living daylights out of you. "After all the traveller and I have been through, don't we deserve a treat as well?!"

Kaeya laughed apologetically, cold hand never leaving your hips. "Of course. The honorary knight has been quite the help. Now let’s get moving, we're not frozen in place, after—"

A smack on the arm shut him up real quick.

#kaeya x reader #genshin impact #kaeya alberich #kaeya x y/n #kaeya x you #genshin impact oneshot #aether #Paimon

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sockablock · 4 years

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I’ve had a small idea for a little while now, so I’m testing the waters with a first chapter! It’s a bit long, so excuse me there, but hopefully y’all enjoy reading! :3

—

It began with a letter that arrived one morning as Essek sat alone in the kitchen.

The courier himself had seemed just as surprised to be delivering a message to the reclusive Shadowhand, but a cursory glance at the carefully-folded envelope and a less-cursory casting of Detect Magic had signaled no foul play. So Essek took the letter, settled back beside the dining table, and floated over a glass of chilled juice for the reading.

His eyes flicked over the return address, and though it did seem familiar, it did not immediately spark recognition. His first real impression of the message was simply that of crisp, neatly-printed handwriting and the faintest whiff of…hmm. Lavender.

The letter began with a standard greeting.

To Shadowhand Essek Thelyss—

I hope you have been keeping well since we spoke. It has been some time, and I admit it is strange for me also as I realize this is likely the first letter I have sent you since our meeting.

He sipped the juice.

You are a busy man, and I would not intrude on your time if my request is unwelcome or unfeasible. But you see, in the time since we have ended the war and sealed away the Chained Oblivion—

Essek nearly spat out his drink.

He managed, in the proceeding moments, to weakly swallow, and shakily set his glass back onto the table. He cleared his throat once or twice. He gently coughed.

He picked up the envelope he had discarded earlier and quickly, the pieces fit together.

The Firmaments. Eastern district. The neighborhood where once, Den Thelyss had provided a house for a ragtag group of outsiders…

He snatched the letter back into the air.

—and semi-accidentally, though certainly also purposefully toppled the Cerberus Assembly.

Essek had to pause and re-read that sentence. It still didn’t sink in until nearly a minute later. He rubbed his temples, and resumed.

As such, it has befallen on I, and by extension the rest of the Mighty Nein to rebuild some of the arcane infrastructure of the Empire. To be more specific, in our meeting with King Dwendal’s court, a lord accused us of trying to cripple the nation by eliminating a powerful institution of magic and Beauregard volunteered that I would be the best candidate to replace it. One comment led to another, and perhaps it was our past efforts in politicking, or our recent defeat of the Maw of Eternal Darkness—

Essek wondered if he had any alcohol.

—but the court ultimately, shockingly, decided that I should be put in charge of creating and overseeing a new arcane academy for the Dwendalian Empire. And so, at the time in which I am writing you this letter, I have been appointed the Headmaster of a new Soltryce Academy, though I certainly will not be keeping that name.

It is with this in mind that I am writing to you now, my friend. For you see, despite the apparent confidence of my friends and my “superiors,” I do not believe I am capable of running a school on my own. Certainly not implementing the necessary infrastructure to have a school of any repute by the next century as well. And though I have my friends, and some resources, and an idea of where to start, the destruction of the Assembly and the Cobalt Soul’s anti-corruption efforts have left our nation in a sorry state regarding reputable mages. So, my dear friend, as we have worked together in the past, I have quite a large favor to ask.

And as Essek’s eyes continued scanning further down the page, the sinking sensation gripping his stomach was not helped by the decanter of plum wine that floated over to his table.

—

Meanwhile, beneath a shining sun on what seemed like the opposite side of the world, Caleb Widogast, the appointed head of a yet-to-be-named-academy was being berated by one of his closest friends.

Beau at least had possessed the decency to shut the tent flap so the army of woodworkers outside would not hear this.

“—suspicious! Caleb, there’s no way it’ll work. And not just because he’s the Shadowhand of the Bright Queen, also because…because…well…everything!”

“I think if he carried an umbrella during the day—”

“Not what I’m talking about,” Beau said. “I’m talking about literally every other problem that asking Essek to teach will cause, good gods.”

Caleb leaned back on the small wooden crate that was currently serving as his favorite chair. The slightly-larger crate he was using for a desk said “Honigblumen Brewery” on it.

“Well, nobody will be teaching for quite some time yet,” he said, “so we will have plenty of chances to work out the kinks.”

Beau shook her head at him, then took a seat. “I’m so far down disbelief city that I’m not even going to talk about the fact that you just said kinks.”

“I meant—”

She waved a dismissive hand. “I know what you meant, and here’s what I mean. Caleb, as much as I know you like Essek, there’s no way any of this is gonna work. First of all, he’s already got a job as the Shadowhand, and I doubt he’d wanna give up a cushy position like that to come work for a nothing-at-all school in the middle of the Empire.”

“Ja, I know, I know, I’ve thought about that—”

“And did you think about the part where he’s the fucking Shadowhand and you’ve asked him to come to the middle of the Dwendalian Empire to teach a goddamn gen-ed course?!”

Caleb was quiet for a moment. And then he said:

“Actually, I was thinking of asking him to take the more advanced levels—”

Beau reached across the ale crate to flick Caleb in the head. “And you don’t see a problem with that, at all? Caleb, for the gods’ sake, use your stupidly big head to consider the fuckin’ political ramifications of that. If the Empire catches wind of this, they’re gonna hate it, war over or not over. And I don’t even mean that in a ‘there’s gonna be shitty racism’ way, which is something else you’ll probably have to deal with later, I meant that in a ‘think about his last job description way.” And speaking of that, I mean, on Essek’s side, really, are you really expecting him to really settle down and help teach after he’s spent a lifetime—a human lifetime—being a military spymaster? Not to mention the fact that he’s a power-hungry war criminal who betrayed his own nation to get ‘arcane secrets’ or whatever. Seriously, dude, there’s no scenario where this goes well for you or him.”

At Caleb’s expression, Beau’s tone eased just slightly and she added, as a peace offering, “Really, dude.”

Caleb sighed. He scratched at his head.

“I…look. I…I think you’re right, but…there are also good possibilities of having him around. He is knowledgeable, he is skilled, I know his magic firsthand, and he has always been trustworthy—”

“Ha!”

“—for us, Beauregard. I think he is one of our best potential candidates, especially as he is only one of three so far. Just…trust me on this one, alright?”

She studied his face intently. The sheerness of the tent walls let in quite a bit of light, giving both of their eyes a faint, sunny sparkle.

With these two, though, it was more of a manic glint.

“What’s this really about?”

“Was?”

Beau leaned closer. “I said, what’s this really about? I don’t think that’s your only motivation. And if I’m gonna trust you, you’ve gotta be straight with me. I know you’re not an idiot, so I believe you when you say you’ve thought about the risks. What’s made them all worth it? What do you really think, and don’t give me that crap about him being a good teacher. You’ve got good teachers. Two advanced ones anyway, and you said yourself yesterday that the rest can be trained. So what’s up? What’s your real game here?”

Caleb floundered only slightly under the intensity of her stare.

“How long have we known each other now? No, fuck that, I pulled you out of the mouth of a forsaken god. Tell me, dickwad. Come on, it’s me.”

And after a moment, Caleb pinched his nose.

“It’s…it’s… it’s partially selfish. And…”

This, Beau understood. She nodded. “And…?”

“And…well, I…was thinking last night, after dinner, about who I want on this project. Aside from you all. And I realized…thinking about everything we have been through, that…for the most part, especially after our…revelations at sea, Essek is one of the people I want around. Largely because, well…”

He gave another sigh.

“Because I want to see what has become of our Xhorhastian friend. More importantly, I want to see if he has…or…could, ah, change.”

“Change,” she said flatly.

“Ja. I…I think I need to seem him change.”

“Because?”

“Because...” Caleb exhaled. “After everything we have been through, what we have seen, after fighting against the Assembly and watching so many mages crumble, I find myself searching for…assurance. Assurance that not every wizard is bad. Assurance that we even deserve this second change. And…if at all possible, what I most would like is to know that anyone, even the most driven and ambitious, the most ruthless, cutthroat, power—as you said, power-hungry—wizard can be shown that there is another way. That…ultimately, all of us can be redeemed.”

He looked back up, and raised an eyebrow. “I want to make this school a force for change. And I want to make it a place where we change, too. I said once before, and I still believe it is so, that Essek and I have a lot of things in common. It is time to see how much we can be changed.”

Beau did not answer for a drawn-out moment, but neither did she look away.

“I think you’re pretty changed, Caleb. That should be a point in your corner already.”

“That’s true,” and this time his smile was a little brighter, “but that is largely due to our group. I think Essek has gotten some of the Mighty Nein treatment, but probably not enough.”

“So…so is he your pet project now, or something?”

“Ach, no, nothing so…no. It is more of a…the thing is, Beauregard, I do consider him a friend. And we got so caught up with the Angel in Irons cult and then the Assembly that, well…it is just, before all that happened, I did like spending time with him.”

“Me too,” she waved a hand, “he had good wine, and when we got him in the hot-tub, he wasn’t that bad. Still don’t know if he’s worth all this. He’s a war criminal—yeah, I know what you and Jester think, but that’s what I think, and Veth agrees. Seriously, you never know, he could be too far gone, and I don’t want him near this school and project if it’ll put you in danger or risk anything.”

“We are no strangers to danger,” Caleb murmured. “And I…would like to think that with enough effort, nobody could be so far gone.”

Beau sighed. She leaned across the crate again, but this time it was to put an arm on Caleb’s shoulder.

“You’re really fucking stubborn, you know that?”

“Ja, so I have been told.”

“Essek has betrayed people before. His people, before.”

“Yes, but…” Caleb shrugged. “He also will probably be betraying his own nation to join this school.”

“Oh, good,” Beau grunted. “So at least he’s had some practice.”

—

By the time Essek had managed to re-arrange his thoughts into something even mildly resembling order, the letter in his hands was so thoroughly crumpled that all its corners were bent.

He attempted to smooth them back out. When this failed to be satisfactory, he put it back on the kitchen table.

A…teaching position at Caleb’s school. Well not Caleb’s school, but a new Empire Academy that Caleb would oversee. And they needed instructors, as well as mages to help build it, and he thought Essek would be a good fit…

Idly, he wondered if Caleb wanted a teleportation network, as many of the finest institutions had. He wondered if this was something he would have to organize.

Apparently, the Mighty Nein had defeated the Chained Oblivion in some obscure corner of the world, without most of civilization even noticing. But Essek remembered the readings that morning, remembered the clamor and panic in the Cathedral, remembered the theurgists in the Conservatory practically tearing themselves apart to understand what was happening. If their claims were true, and this wasn’t an elaborate prank on the Mighty Nein’s end, a large part of Essek vowed he would draw chalk circles for them forever, if they asked.

But a small part of Essek had the needling thought: why didn’t they tell me it was happening? I could have helped them.

He glanced back at the note.

Well, they were asking for help now, weren’t they? And if nothing else had changed, it was the simple fact that Essek would still do his best to help his friends.

There were just some minor complications to be dealt with.

Namely, what to tell the Bright Queen. And his—

He made a face.

—and his mother.

—

A few days later, Essek stood in front of his bathroom mirror.

It was a beautiful piece, made from polished volcanic glass and set into an ornately-twisted frame of dark metal. It was the perfect gift for someone who regularly floated around Rosohna being called the Shadowhand, but as far as mirrors actually went it left some details lacking.

Still, it served Essek well enough, and he’d never really gotten around to replacing it.

He stared into his dim reflection and slid a hand over his chin.

—

Elsewhere, another wizard stared too, but not into any reflective surface.

Veth’s eyes hadn’t refracted light like that for nearly two years, now. But Caleb could still feel the weight of her gaze boring into his skull as she searched for answers.

Eventually, she sat back.

“Alright. How?”

“Yes, I know it’s—was?”

“How?” she repeated, and steepled her fingers. “How are we gonna do it? He’ll need a disguise, right?”

There was a long pause as Caleb processed this. He managed, “You are…not mad?”

“Well, it’s not like I’m happy, but I trust you, Caleb. You have a reason?”

“Er…yes. I quite do.”

“So…alright, then.” There was a pause, then she added, “I am kind of annoyed you already sent the letter without asking, though.”

“Sorry.”

“I feel like I should ground you.”

“That, er…you can, if that makes you feel better.”

Veth genuinely seemed to consider this. Behind them, through the thin tent-walls of the office, they could hear a delighted child running circles around adults. They were, respectively, Luc Brenatto, having the time of his life shooting the Mighty Nein with wooden darts.

They were rounded off, of course. Yeza had seen to that with great care.

“No,” Veth sighed eventually. “No, that probably sets a bad example. I don’t think a professor can ground the Headmaster.”

“Head Professor, do not forget. I trust you the most out of everyone on this project. Not just because you are my friend, but you are qualified. And you really understand our mission.”

His tone of voice suggested that this was a conversation they had had many times. The way Veth’s face colored just slightly suggested she was still having trouble with the ‘qualified’ part.

Nevertheless, years of trained suspicion broke through the treacle-sweet flattery.

“But you didn’t trust me enough to tell me you were planning to ask Essek to come earlier,” she pointed out. “What did you think I was going to do?”

Caleb winced. “No, Veth, I…scheisse. That was…I was being impulsive that night. I…the idea occurred to me and I did not even hesitate to contact him. I…in retrospect, I should have.”

At least, to his relief, Veth nodded in response. “I get that,” she shrugged. “And like I said before, I am on board. You’re lucky I like you so much, Caleb. I don’t…care for Essek, but if this is what you want, I’ll…deal with having him around.”

“I am sorry again,” he said. “And, er…if it helps, you will also be his boss.”

Veth hadn’t been a goblin for years, but her eyes gleamed.

“Please be nice to him,” Caleb added.

“Nice?” Veth scoffed. “He’s not exactly nice.”

“He was nice to us—”

“Not Yeza.”

At the tortured grimace that passed across Caleb’s face, Veth sighed.

“Look, don’t worry, seriously. I was mostly kidding—I’m kidding! I just…you know that I have complicated feelings about Essek. In a…in a sort of way, I understand what he did. And I know where he’s coming from, I do. Lots of us are...well, we were pretty sketchy too. He really reminds me of the things we’ve done. But…he hasn’t shown nearly as much remorse as I’d like. And some of the things he’s done are—” She risked a glance up into Caleb’s impassive expression, “—I don’t like that he still doesn’t seem to care. But…he is a wizard, and I guess he’s our friend. So…if you can keep him from doing anything, I don’t know, very sketchy, then I’m on board. I trust you.”

Caleb’s expression went soft. He nodded.

“Thank you, Veth. I appreciate your cooperation in this matter.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“And I do hope that…well, I hope we can stop him from ‘sketchy’ things. In fact, ah…a small part of me is hoping that eventually, he will want to stop doing sketchy things all by himself.”

“Really?” Veth sounded more than skeptical. “How?”

Caleb shrugged. “The same way you and I did, no?”

—

Now Essek stood before the iron wrought gates that led into the expansive manor grounds of his family home. He could see, high above and a bit back, the five towers that made up the domain of the Umavi of Den Thelyss, long empty after all her children had moved on.

And, Essek recalled with a grimace, after his father had most probably, definitely, died.

It was a lonely castle. A feeling he could commiserate with, even in his smaller manor.

He straightened his collar. He knocked twice.

—

“By getting rich as adventurers.”

“By getting friends.”

—

“It is a surprise to see you here,” said Umavi Deirta Thelyss, Denmother of Den Thelyss and also Essek’s actual mother. “You rarely visit outside formal events and holidays.”

She did not add that Essek had totally missed the last two get-togethers, and thus must have been in a charitable mood. The rare—albeit leftover—tea blend that Essek had brought might have tipped the scale.

“I know, Mother.”

“I worry about you, of course.”

“I know, Mother.”

“And I’m certainly proud of what you’ve accomplished thus far.” At this, she took a sip of the Blooming Grove’s best. “I trust you are finding ways to keep yourself busy even during these times of peace?”

“Of course, Mother. Er…actually, it is partially that subject which I wish to address with you.”

His mother lowered her cup.

“Ah. So this is not purely a social call.”

“Er…no.”

She dabbed at the corner of her mouth, but Essek could have sworn she’d just smiled. Or, he backpedaled, at least tactfully smirked.

“Is this about access to the Beacons again, dear? As I always say, I can try to put in a word, but we have never been the den as involved in religious matters.” She paused, and tilted her head at him. “Is this about Consecution?”

“Er…no.”

“Oh. Well, then? Speak your mind.”

Under the table, Essek twisted at the hem of his sleeve.

“I, ah…well, that is…I’ve received a letter, Mother. An offer of…professorship. From…an Academy.”

This seemed to genuinely surprise the Umavi.

“Professorship? But…why?”

“Someone out there believes in my arcane prowess, apparently.” With the first sentence out of the way, Essek managed to sip his tea. Only a true observer would have noticed it falter slightly in its trajectory.

“Well,” said his Mother, trying to meet his gaze, “what a strange request to make of one already so gainfully employed. As the Bright Queen’s master of…let us call them the more obscure matters of state.”

When Essek did not match her eyes, she continued, “What sort of Academy is this, dear? Surely none in the Marble Tomes would write you in this way, and I find difficulty imagining you taking up permanent residence in Asarius. Which must mean…”

Essek sighed. His mother certainly was a true observer.

“Yes, Mother. It is outside the Dynasty.”

“Worse than that, I am sure.”

“Er…”

There was a sweeping of long robes as his mother leaned. She wasn’t wearing her headdress, but could loom without height, her sheer imposing presence doing the work just fine.

“Essek?”

He sighed again.

“Inside the Empire, Mother.” And because they had gotten this far, and he didn’t have much else to lose, he added, “Run by Widogast. Caleb Widogast, if you remember him, as well as a number of his friends, I gather. It is the…replacement institution currently being built to fill the void—”

“That the Assembly left, yes, I assumed.” She settled back, and a shifting of fabric indicated that she had crossed her arms. “And our dearly departed hero Widogast wants you to teach there?”

“And to assist him in establishing some of its curriculum and facilities, yes.” He tactfully ignored the ‘dearly departed’ bit.

“That would certainly be an odd career move for you, Essek. And surely, foreigner or no, he has spent enough time in our country to be aware of the implications of what he is asking.”

“Surely, Mother.”

“And as we all know, he has had training in Dunamancy these last years. I do hope his teacher had impressed upon him how vitally important it is to keep such training and knowledge a secret.”

For the first time since reading the letter, Essek paused.

In all his…well, excitement was not a word ever ascribed to the Shadowhand, but certainly in his anticipation to consider his offer, it had never actually crossed his mind that he might be asked to teach Dunamancy.

A small but very significant part of him riled.

Across the table, his mother drank some more tea. She was watching her son, who to his credit, had mastered the art of freezing his micro-expressions so swiftly that they could not be read. But without his mantle on, sitting in his mother’s tearoom, his hands were fidgeting up a storm across the table.

He probably hadn’t even noticed. She took another sip.

In a matter of seconds, Essek was back. He shook his head, and reached for a dry cookie.

“I think he is aware of the gravity of the situation. And I trust him to have already, ah…weighed the pros and cons.”

“And have you?” asked Deirta Thelyss, knowing the answer.

Essek bit down.

“I believe I have.”

—

“So…that’s it? We just wait for an answer, now?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think he’ll say yes?”

“Well, I certainly hope so.”

“How’s he supposed to tell you?” This one was Jester, leaning across a stack of milk crates. “He doesn’t have Sending, I’m pretty sure.”

There was a pause in the air as the Mighty Nein watched Caleb consider, and realize this.

“Oh,” he said eventually. “I, er…I had assumed he did.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Beau said. “How did you think he was going to answer back? You didn’t think Xhorhas had a postal service to Felderwin, did you?”

“I, ah, admit that—”

“Maybe you should check our mailbox in Rosohna,” said Fjord kindly. “He probably just sent it to the Xhorhouse, or something.”

Caleb faltered, and scratched the back of his head. “…scheisse. You don’t think he has been waiting all this time to answer already, has he? I had not even considered—”

“I would not worry about that.”

All of them turned as a voice outside the door drifted in through the thin walls of the tent.

Then the voice added:

“How do I…oh, there is a latch—”

But he did not manage to finish the assessment before Jester ran over, threw the flap open, and tackled Essek bodily in a hug.

—

“In that case, there is only one last thing to say.” The Umavi of Den Thelyss sat back in her seat. A thin trail of steam curled up from her cup.

“I forbid you from going.”

“Thank—you what?”

She steepled her fingers. “I say ‘no,’ Essek. I will not let you chase this Empire wizard across the continent to teach at his school.”

“I…but…that is not…Mother, why?”

The swiftness of his outburst answered the question for both of them.

She studied his gaze.

“Essek, you have a purpose here. You have a bright future, and a reputation, and glowing prospects and I will not let you squander that to go off spilling our nation’s secrets.”

Essek managed to bite his tongue just in time. His mother would not have liked his instinctual answer.

Instead, he choked out the words, “I’ll quit, then. I’ll defect. I want to do this. More than I have ever wanted anything else in my life.”

Later, he would wonder why he said that. Even later, later, he would wonder if that were true.

The oldest and nearly-youngest souls of Den Thelyss stared at each other across the tea table. Their drinks cooled, and somewhere high above, the sun began to rise over the city of Rosohna.

But down here, beneath the blanket of perpetual stars, the only light was from the low, flickering lamps along the wall.

“I would do anything,” one said.

“…is that so?” said the other.

—

He was released after the impact knocked his parasol aside and his skin very quickly, visibly, began to redden. They immediately ushered him into the tent, shouting and laughing and clapping him on the back all the way, though he noticed that despite the friendly reception from Jester, Caduceus, Fjord, and even Yasha, Veth seemed somewhat frozen in her smile, and Beau even less warm.

That was…probably to be expected, actually. He wondered if this might present an issue and was about to open his mouth, say something, until he noticed a figure striding across the tent floor, side-stepping a stack of crates, and taking him by the hand.

Essek met his eyes. It had been some time, since he saw those eyes. Then he blinked.

“By the light, Caleb, you have grown a beard.”

There was a pause, and then Caleb laughed, and that was new too. Essek always forgot how quickly humans could change.

“I had meant to shave it before you arrived,” Caleb admitted. “It is, ah, a product of sleepless nights overseeing the construction of a new school.”

“It’s terrible,” Jester said. “It makes you look old.”

“I can fix this now if needed,” said a voice, followed by the sound of an unsheathing sword.

“Er…maybe…later, bitte?”

And Essek couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “I nearly forgot how boisterous all of you are, all the time. I have…” He turned, faced the Mighty Nein. “My life has not been nearly as interesting without you in it.”

“Well then, welcome back,” Caduceus gave a smile.

And even Veth, despite their…history, stepped forward.

“I said it once before, didn’t I? Welcome to the Mighty Nein, Essek.”

She even stuck out a hand for him to shake.

—

“I want you to report back everything to me. And when the time comes, when your Headmaster is summoned to the castle, I want you to go with him.”

“But…Mother, why?”

Her voice was nothing but gentle as she addressed her son.

“It is well-known that King Bertrand Dwendal has no heirs. And rules over quite a…combative court, with an iron fist.”

She leaned in even closer.

“What would happen to the Empire, do you think, if he was removed from that picture?”

—

And somewhere else, on what felt like the opposite side of the world, Caleb put an arm around Essek’s shoulder, and grinned.

“It is good to see you again, my friend.”

Essek’s lip twitched into what could approximately be called a smile.

“Good to see you as well,” he said.

#to be continued...?#critical role #critfic #shadowgast #critrole #cr2 #the mighty nein #fanfiction #fanfic #jay writes #long post #LONG ASS POST #SUCH A LONG POST IM SO SORRY #for later #i dont have a tag for this yet so let's call it #time to build a magic school #text #fic

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storiesnobodyreads · 4 years

Text

ENDLESSLY INFURIATED [1]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Story: You hate Bucky Barnes more than anything and are not shy to let everyone know about this. Will things change when Steve convinces you to join him on a fancy night out?

There were not many things that endlessly infuriated you. Bucky Barnes, however, was definitely one of those things. His brooding, quiet self frustrated you to no end, and there was no clear explanation for this, not even to you. He had technically never done anything wrong. Always a gentleman, always polite, always oh-so-willing to sacrifice himself for his friends. Sometimes it seemed that Barnes had decided that he wasn’t supposed to be alive at this point anyway so he might as well rescue others no matter the cost.

“Want some coffee?” Barnes asked when you trudged into the kitchen of the Stark Tower early in the morning.

Unfortunately, Barnes was always the first one up and ready, so whenever you felt motivated to go for a run or workout early in the morning, this good motivation was instantly killed off by Barnes’ presence. “Ugh, no, fuck off,” you groaned.

“Good morning to you too,” said Barnes without a care, pouring some coffee into one cup for himself.

You rolled your eyes, fetching some cereal and milk and thudding down on a high chair at the bar. To your absolute dismay, Barnes joined you at the bar. You stared at him. “What the fuck?”

Barnes raised his eyebrows at you. “Didn’t realize you own this place. Last time I checked I’m free to sit wherever I want.”

You put up your ultimate bitch face. “Fine, dickwad. Just don’t talk to me. Don’t even look at me.”

For some reason, it pissed you off possibly even more that Barnes never seemed to care about your blatant verbal aggression toward him. He simply slightly shook his head and took a sip of hot steaming coffee, which admittedly smelled really good. He twirled his cup in his hands, looking relaxed in his grey sweatpants and over-sized white sweater.

Cute, you thought quickly, but you soon pushed that thought very far back in your mind. You finished your breakfast as fast as you could, in absolute silence. Barnes didn’t look at you once nor did he seem to feel the need to start a conversation. In a sense that you despised, breakfast was actually quite peaceful like this. When you were done, you got up to place your used stuff in the dishwasher.

“I can clean up,” Barnes offered, “so you can go on your run.”

You narrowed your eyes and stared at the man with as much hatred as you could gather, violently placing your bowl in the dishwasher and practically throwing the spoon in its holder. Without saying another word, you marched out of the kitchen, where you bounced into Tony. “Oh, good morning, Tony!” you said cheerfully, pressing a kiss on the man’s cheek.

“Mornin’, lovely,” was Tony’s response. He was wiping some sleep out of his eyes, clearly having had a long night. You didn’t quite know what project he was currently working on, but it was fair to say it was robbing him of his sleep. “You’re up early,” he commented.

You nodded, ponytail swinging. “Felt good today. Am going for a run.”

“Alright, love. Have fun.”

“Thanks, thanks. Maybe after I could help you with your project, if you got anything to do for me?”

Tony scratched the scruff on his chin, suppressing a yawn. “Yeah, I might have some things for you to look at later. Thanks for offering. Now go run, kid.” You grinned when he sent a wink in your direction.

Barnes spoke up from the bar, “Have fun, Y/N.”

In reaction to him, you simply raised your middle finger and strolled out of sight.

Running had always simultaneously been your most favorite and least favorite activity. You loathed it because it was often boring, leaving you alone with your thoughts which soon turned into a mentally challenging exercise. You loved it because whenever you felt anxious, you could just run as fast as your legs could carry you and sweat all the anxiety out. Sam’s explanation for this had been that when humans get stressed, their fight or flight reaction gets triggered, because in the good old days stressors were things like wolves. After being confronted with the wolf, you would either be safe or dead, but not anxious. With the stressors of the current society, you can’t run away or fight, leaving you with an uneasy feeling. But running, sometimes, helped you get rid of that feeling.

On top of that, it was a wonderful morning. Not too hot, not too cold, not a cloud to be spotted in the bright blue sky. The nice smell of fresh bread oozing from the bakeries as birds awoke and fluttered through the air. Despite having had breakfast with Barnes, it was a good morning. And it felt like today might be a good day.

You returned to the Stark Tower an hour or so later, when you presumed most of the Avengers had woken up. You happily greeted Elena the receptionist and said hello to some of the security guards, waving cheerfully at James from Human Resources through the glass walls of his department. After a quick stop to send your best wishes at the Youth Centers Tony had set up for children and teenagers in need of books or an internet connection or any form of help, you made your way up to the Avengers headquarters.

Needless to say, you were relieved to find Barnes’ seat empty.

“Y/N!” you were welcomed enthusiastically by Steve, who waved you over to the couch in the living room. All the glass walls, which according to Tony emphasized openness and honesty among the Avengers, made it easy to see whenever someone entered. You made your way over to Steve, moving past Wanda who used some of her red flaring magic to pull you closer to her so she could plant a kiss on the top of your head. Wanda spent most of her time using her magic to fly around the kitchen and living room, simply to annoy the other Avengers that they couldn’t fly. Thor had once started the argument that he could, in fact, fly, but when Wanda had dared to do so without the help of his hammer, his big mouth soon vanished.

Having arrived at the couch, you let yourself fall down, sprawling your legs over Steve’s lap and letting your head rest on Sam’s knees. “What’s up, losers?” you smiled.

“Ew, you stink,” Sam coughed exaggeratedly. He faked trying to push you away from him. “Take a shower before you come poison us!”

“Steve asked me to come here!” you argued.

Steve grinned and patted your shins. “That was before I realized what a sweaty human being you were. Disgusting, Y/N, really—anyway, the reason I asked you over here is because I kind of need you to do me a favor.”

You instantly became suspicious. “Oh no. What?”

“Well, remember that nice new girl that is working for James in Human Resources now?” Steve started with a nervous laugh.

You shot up straight and gently hit Steve against his chest. “You didn’t!”

Steve was laughing, “I did, I did. I asked her out on a date. We’re going out tonight.”

“No way!” you exclaimed excitedly, throwing yourself at the man to hug him. “I’m so happy for you! Lucie is so nice, Steve! The two of you would make such a lovely couple!”

“Alright, calm down there,” Steve lifted you up from him, smiling widely. “Thank you very much for introducing us, though. I owe you one.”

“This is going to be amazing, Steve, I—” you realized suddenly that Steve had started out this conversation stating that he was going to ask for a favor. “Right. I’m very happy for you, but what do you want from me then?”

“Well,” Steve cleared his throat. “When I was asking Lucie out for a date tonight, I might have accidentally, you know, in the heat of the moment, I was very nervous, I might have said that it was going to be a double date... Um, to make it less awkward.”

You stared at him. “To make it less awkward? To make it less awkward you thought it’d be a good idea to invite me?”

Steve put up a broad smile. “Yes?”

You grabbed a pillow and threw it into Captain America’s stupid face. “WHY?” you exclaimed incredulously.

“Because she knows you and she likes you!” Steve defended himself, raising his arms to stop to downfall of more pillows on top of his head. “And somewhere in my rambling I thought it was easier to a group activity than it just being the two of us--”

You emphasized every word with a hit, “you – are – so – dumb!”

“That’s not even all I— damn,” Steve laughed, fighting back to steal the last pillow away from you. He put up his puppy eyes. “Please tell me you’ll come with me. Please. I really like Lucie and I need your help.”

Raising one brow, you marvelled at how Steve was usually such a strategic leader out in the field and yet here he had turned into a begging boy, nervous because he liked a girl. You shortly remembered how Steve hadn’t always been this good-looking and still had a sense of insecurity when it came to his looks and getting girls. “My god. Okay. But that means you owe me twice, Steve.”

Steve attacked you with a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Gosh,” you tapped out on Steve’s back, unable to breathe with him on top of you. When he let you go, he looked so relieved you decided it might actually be worth it to help him out this way. “Right then. Where do I have to be?”

“Down at the reception, at 7? I’ll choose the restaurant and everything. It’s going to be fancy. That’s a warning.”

You glared. “Why do you say that like I am incapable of looking fancy?”

Behind you, Sam barked out a laugh. “Because, sweetheart, you are absolutely gorgeous, but it is an odd day to see you wear anything other than gym clothes. Look at what you’re wearing right now.”

You scoffed indignantly. “I just came back from a run!”

Sam and Steve continued teasing you and making you laugh until you decided that it presumably was time to go for a shower. After cleaning yourself up you stepped into an old pair of jeans and shirt to join Tony in the basement to see if you could help the exhausted man out.

You found Tony lying beneath an old car, sparks flying out of underneath the vehicle as machines were whirring loudly. You kicked Tony’s feet. “Oi!”

The man startled and bumped his head against the car. “Jesus!” he cursed, before rolling from underneath the vehicle to face you. “For fuck’s sake, can you make an entrance like a normal human being for a change?”

“Not really,” you smiled while fetching an iced pack from the fridge and tossing it in Tony’s direction. “You know me. Such a diva. Always the centre of attention.”

Tony grumbled some inaudible cursing words as he pressed the iced pack onto his forehead. “Not a bigger diva than me, you’re not. You’re too comfortable is what I’ll give you. You feel like you can be your most annoying self with the Avengers.”

You raised one eyebrow. “And can I?”

Tony shrugged. In a short burst of honesty, he said: “Of course. We all love you. Would be lost without you.” With similar ease, he barked at you: “Now will you help me out and fuck off out of my sight?” He proceeded to explain what you could do in order to help out with a small piece of his project. You were no expert in engineering like Tony, but he had taught you a fair amount over the years. Even though you weren’t gifted like Peter, you were a fast learner and possessed the power of common knowledge and google.

Peter wasn’t present in Tony’s basement that morning, even though it was generally his favourite place to be. Tony didn’t tolerate many people in his basement, as his usual working vibes included loud AC/DC music, an excessive amount of coffee, red bull and alcohol, and as few living things to bother him as possible. You and Peter were the only Avengers that were allowed to come and go as you pleased.

As soon as Tony had finished his instructions, he turned up the volume of his music and vanished back underneath his car.

You twirled some tools in your hand and made your way to the back of the basement, where you wouldn’t be in Tony’s line of sight. As you moved around a high stack of apparatus to reach a free desk, you found the one person sitting there that you didn’t want to see.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Barnes?” you called out.

Barnes didn’t even look up. Massive noise-cancelling headphones rested atop his head, seemingly so to avoid going insane thanks to an overload of AC/DC. He was wearing a simple white shirt; his back somewhat sweaty and muscles tensed as he tinkered on the machinery before him. His black hair was bundled up in a small knot in his neck. His metal arm operated smoothly, all his movements perfectly under control.

You gawked at the man for a while. Probably a little longer than was socially acceptable. Likely a lot longer than was socially acceptable.

There were many negative things you thought about Bucky Barnes, but you couldn’t fault him on his looks. The man was extremely good-looking and fit, and no one could deny that.

But then you remembered his personality and instantly felt annoyance bubbling up in your chest. God, he was infuriating. You picked up some nails from a desk and tossed them softly against Barnes’ back to catch his attention.

The man shot up straight, struggling his headphones from his head and face up to you. The temporary panic flaring in his blue eyes, the way his hands clenched to fists... Then he recognized who you were and his posture relaxed, the fear flying out of his expression.

He breathed out. “Hey.”

Suddenly you were very aware of how you were looking. Messy bun on the top of your head, over-sized sweater that did not accentuate your shape, and small jogging pants that barely covered your butt. Compared to how good Bares was looking while engineering, you felt kind of insignificant.

But Barnes didn’t look at you like you were insignificant. There was a sparkle in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. “You...” he seemed to have lost his tongue. “Um, you look...”

You pushed your insecurity away and felt rather annoyed with yourself that you allowed this man to throw you off guard. “I look what?”

“Good,” Barnes blurted out. “You look... You look good.”

Staring at him, you squinted. You were feeling all kinds of feelings, which infuriated you, and you reacted to Barnes the way you wanted to react to your feelings. “Fuck off. What are you doing here anyway?”

Barnes was blinking. “Oh, um, my arm has been malfunctioning a little lately. Stark wanted to fix it for me, but I figured it was about time to learn how to do it myself. So that’s what I’ve been trying to do.”

“Can you do it somewhere else?” you demanded rudely.

“Not really,” Barnes replied, unphased. “I think I need this...” He gestured toward the fiery machinery he had been working with. He proceeded to vaguely repeat the instructions Tony had given him to create a tiny chip that would solve the issues of his metal arm. Within about two seconds of hearing Barnes speak about his unfortunate invention, you realized that he had no idea what he was talking about.

You sighed tiredly. “You are the dumbest person I have ever met. I can’t even. Move out the way. I’ll do it.”

Barnes opened his mouth, presumably to protest, but you pushed him out of the way before he could make a noise. Remembering that Barnes had started out willing to do this on his own, you started explaining every little thing you did, including your entire thought process. Barnes listened intently to every word you said, letting out small ‘oh’s and ‘ah’s when he noted where he had gone wrong. It took hours and hours to finish Barnes’ issue, but both of you were patient and focused and time flew as you worked together. As soon as Barnes got the hang of it, you trusted him with the slightly smaller tasks as you multi-tasked and worked on Tony’s project as well. Tony showed up with sandwiches for the three of you at a certain point of time before vanishing under his car again. Barnes set you cups of coffee so that the two of you could continue tinkering with focus.

When Barnes’ new arm was completely finished, you helped attach the thing to his shoulder. He looked extremely uneasy but didn’t let out a single noise of complaint. Once it stuck, he closed his eyes to concentrate and got his fingers to move, explaining it was always a little weird to have this extension of his body. He commented it felt like a good arm, though, and within minutes he was using it as if he had used it his whole life. Somewhat exhausted, the two of you ended up sitting next to each other with your feet up the desk, silent and staring at Barnes’ old arm. It was quite peaceful. A satisfying silence, somehow.

“Alright.” You placed your hands flat on the table and got up. Barnes’ gaze followed your every move. “I’m done,” you grunted, wiping some concentration sweat from your forehead. “Can’t believe I spent so much time on your dumb ass.”

Barnes leaned back in his chair with a smile, studying you as you shook your hair out. His hands were folded in his lap. “Thank you so much. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“I know,” you confirmed with a nod. “You couldn’t have. And that’s because you grew up without having electricity. And you’re old.”

Barnes’ face cracked open in a wide grin. “Can’t argue with that. You’re a lot smarter than me anyway, even if I had been born in the same time as you.”

You narrowed your eyes, not trusting these compliments. How was Barnes still nice to you after all the shit you gave him? “Absolutely.”

The man continued smiling, looking straight at you, happy. You didn’t know what to do with yourself or where to hold your hands, his warmth radiating. You cleared your throat. “What time is it anyway?”

Barnes checked his watch. “Eleven past six.”

You blinked. “In the evening?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit,” you cursed, remembering your promise to Steve to join him for a dinner to make his date with his crush Lucie less awkward, “I have a thing. I have to go.”

Barnes moved up from his chair. “Yeah, Y/N, I think—”

“For fuck’s sake, why did I spend so much time with your today?” you busted out, rapidly gathering your things. “Glad I really have to go so I don’t have to waste another minute with you. Have a horrible evening, Barnes!”

“Y/N—” Bucky tried to say, but before he could finish his sentence, you ran out of Tony’s lab. You checked your outfit and realized you were still in short jogging pants and a large sweater—after Sam’s comment of you never looking fancy, you could impossibly show up to the dinner dressed like this. You wanted to prove Sam and Steve wrong and dress up like how you had never dressed up before. And there were two people you knew to be perfect for this job. Therefore, as you were running through the Stark Tower, you texted your two best friends with a code red. And when you finally made it to your own room, you expected nothing less than to find Nat and Wanda waiting impatiently for you on your bed.

Wanda leaped up, looking worried. “What is code red?”

You let all your engineering stuff fall on the floor. “I’m going out for dinner tonight at 7. It’s supposed to be fancy.”

Both Wanda and Nat’s facial expression went from indignance that you were not dying, to absolute excitement. “Does this mean what I think it means?” Nat breathed out. “Are you going to let us dress you up?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes. Don’t be too girly about it.”

But both Wanda and Nat were already squealing like the girliest girls in the world, more than exhilarated that they got to have their girly moments in their lives filled with heavy tasks of being an Avenger. “I’m getting my stuff!” Wanda squeaked, vanishing from the room with a red flash. Nat threw her hands up in the air. “Dresses!” she yelled, and ran out of the room as well. Both of them returned within no time, arms filled with make-up and clothes and a bunch of stuff floating behind them thanks to Wanda’s red magic. “I just realized we only have half an hour!” Wanda was screaming. Nat pushed you, “Wash yourself! Hurry!”

They granted you one minute of showering before pulling you out, throwing a sexy pair of lingerie to you (“You never know where the night goes!”) and then setting you on the bed. Nat held up several outfits for you to judge while Wanda got to work on your make-up and did your hair. Nat selected a little red dress for you that wouldn’t be too revealing. When you put it on, it hugged the curves of your body nicely and made you look way hotter than you thought you actually were. Wanda had finished your face, hair and eyes, with only lips to go, when Nat started yelling: “It’s seven o’clock!”. “LIPSTICK!” Wanda shouted back, which resulted in Nat tossing a deep dark-red lipstick at Wanda and her smearing it somehow perfectly on your lips. They rushed you up in front of the mirror. You were absolutely confused, having gone through the most stressful getting-ready process ever. But when you looked into the mirror, your jaw dropped.

“I look fucking stunning, babes.”

Wanda and Nat cheered. “Yes, you do!”

They showered you with compliments as they led you downstairs to the reception, moving slowly on your heels, despite the time being way past seven. You felt powerful and beautiful, ready to confuse the hell out of Steve and make it a wonderful, hopefully not-so-awkward night. Strolling down the last set of stairs, you spotted Lucie and Steve standing arm in arm. Lucie was wearing an extremely cute, long, dark-blue dress while Steve was dressed up in suit and tie. Once Steve’s eyes fell on you, he choked on his own saliva and his eyes popped out of his skull. “Hot damn, girl!” he called out.

You laughed, throwing your hair back in your neck. “Who says I can’t look fancy, eh?” Wanda and Nat had left you to get to the reception on your own, though you could still hear them whooping and whispering compliments behind you. You cut around the corner, finally having arrived at the reception of the Stark Tower, perhaps a little past seven, but fully dressed in a fancy outfit. And then you saw that it wasn’t just Steve that had dressed up in suit and tie.

Bucky Barnes was dressed up as well, looking immaculate. His face clean, beard and hair well groomed, smelling fresh and sweet, in a pristine suit that made him look even more handsome than usual.

It was the second time today you found him in a place where he wasn’t supposed to be. It was also the second time today you stood gawking at how gorgeous this man was.

Barnes was looking at you with his eyes wide, a flicker shining that you couldn’t quite explain. His lips parted as he looked over your appearance, but he couldn’t quite seem to find his tongue.

Your cocky expression had faded, but you did find your tongue. “The fuck are you doing here?”

Steve immediately came in between the two of you. “It’s a double date, Y/N. I told you this, right?”

You tore your eyes away from Barnes to stare furiously at Steve. “You most certainly did not, Rogers.”

“Well, it is,” Steve forced a smile. He proceeded to wrap his arm around Lucie, who stood nervously eying the situation. “And we are very excited to go on the double date, aren’t we, Lucie?”

Lucie nodded, eyes big. “Yes. You, um, look really beautiful, Y/N.”

Lucie was so very obviously shitting herself that you felt bad for her. You sighed. It mustn’t be an easy position for her, ending up going on a double date with three well-known Avengers. Even though you talked to her all the time and you would consider yourselves somewhat friends, at the very least good acquaintances, it made sense she was still nervous. Were you really going to make this even more nerve-wrecking and miserable for her? Were you that much of a bitch, that just to get across your hatred for Barnes, you would ruin the night from Lucie and Steve?

You took a deep breath. “You look beautiful as well, Lucie.” You eyed Barnes, realizing you were now officially on a date with him. “Let’s go.”

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drawlfoy · 4 years

Text

The Wonders of Ohio P.4

masterlist - find parts 1, 2, and 3 here

request guidelines

did you miss me :P

pairing: draco x reader

requested: by prepubescent me

summary: american high school student y/n y/l/n’s senior year gets turned upside down when her family hosts a british exchange student that’s clearly keeping some secrets.

warnings: language and drug use mentions

a/n: hi everyone...i know that this has been a long time coming but. here she is. i finally finished this after the draft sat for over 6 months...here she is though! i’m excited weeee

tags tags tags

word count: 2k

music recs: hate candidate by BLOODHYPE, archie, marry me by alvvays

“No, no,” Y/N interrupted, gently pushing Draco’s hands away from his locker. “It’s right to the number, left past the next number once, and right straight to the last number. You twist it right to reset it...no, like this...”

“This is pathetic, I don’t even need to put anything in a box in the wall,” Draco snarled, his gray eyes flaming.

“It’s really not that deep,” she said, snorting at his attitude. “Do they not have locks in England?”

Instead of answering, he huffed dramatically and scowled. “Open it up for me, will you? It’s not worth my time to learn.”

“You’re going to be here for a whole year, you know.” Y/N’s remark contradicted with her actions as she reapproached the locker and twisted out the combination. “But how can I say no to you, ever the gentlemen?”

She held out a hand out expectantly as he stared at her, his eyes full of confusion.

“Your phone,” she said.

“My...my what?”

“I know, it’s weird, but they prohibit phones in orientation. Something about bonding or whatever. Just give it here, and we’ll keep it in here. If it goes off in any of the activities they’ll take it from you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Okay, okay, I respect that attitude.” Y/N smirked, patting him on the shoulder as he flinched away from her. “Just don’t be mad at me when they confiscate it until 2.”

He stared at her for a few seconds longer before clearing his throat and nodding.

<^>

The speeches at the beginning were always the longest part--the unnecessary dramatization of the importance of high school, the faux motivation mantras, the “love yourself” bits ironically being performed by some of the most insufferable members of the ASB--and Y/N was ready to get it over with, Draco seemed to feel the same way, as every time she looked at him, he looked another shade of uninterested.

She tried poking fun at the performances a couple times to see his reaction, and surprisingly enough, it was slightly well received.

“You see the redhead down there?” she whispered to him, gesturing towards the current speaker with her chin. He gave her a tight nod in response. “That’s Heather, our ASB president. She’s a total tool. Spews all this ‘vaping in the bathrooms isn’t cool!’ shit but one time I walked in on her doing lines in the performance wing bathrooms. She’s crazy, I’m telling you.”

Draco seemed amused at this, resting his cheek in his palm and watching her intently. “Lines?”

“Cocaine.”

“Cocaine?”

“You know what? I’m gonna quit while we’re ahead. I don’t want to be the one to corrupt you.”

Draco scoffed. “You’re worried about corrupting me?”

“Well, yeah,” she said. “I’m not the one who doesn’t know what cocaine is.”

He sniffed at this, turning his attention back to Heather’s mind-numbing anti-bullying presentation that was clearly put together moments before. Silence ensued for the next few moments before Draco sucked in a breath and turned to look at her. “What’s an ASB?”

“Oh, you should be so glad that you have to ask that,” Y/N stage whispered. “It’s student government. It’s an acronym for something. I never cared enough to remember it. The elections are super corrupt--it’s basically a popularity contest. They don’t do anything either...I don’t even know why it exists anyways.”

“So I take it you’re not popular?”

“By choice, I’ll have you know,” Y/N pointed out. “I just made friends with the people I had stuff in common with. We all just happened to not be big fans of putting vodka in our Hydroflasks and the like...What I mean by that is that we aren’t big partiers.” She was quick to clarify when she saw the confusion on Draco’s face.

He didn’t seem to understand any more of what she had said, or at least didn’t show any interest in it, scooting away a few inches from her and turning his head back to Heather’s speech.

The presentation ended within another 10 minutes, much to Y/N’s delight. One had been enough for her--two orientations was pushing it.

Maybe that’s why all the ASB kids are so awful she thought to herself as they made they way to Draco’s first class on the schedule. If I had to be here every year, I’d probably be a grade A rat as well.

“How’d they put you in AP Physics C?” Y/N asked him as they walked into the science lab. “I’m in your same period...and I had to take two years of physics before that to be qualified to take it. Did you take a Physics A level or something? Is that what they call it?”

Draco blinked twice. “Er...sure. My professors told me that I was skilled in Arithmancy, if that’s what you mean..?”

“Arithmancy? Is that just a fancy word for math?” she pressed. “I thought you guys just called it maths.”

“You could say so.”

Before she could push for any more answers, someone behind them cleared their throat. Y/N spun around, her face lighting up when she saw who it was.

“Mr. Whitacre!” she exclaimed.

“Y/N, my least favorite student,” he greeted, a cheeky smile concealed by a rather bushy black beard. “I’m surprised they haven’t kicked you out of orientation. Haven’t you head? This is supposed to be an event for new students...not jaded old souls such as yourself.”

“Oh, you know me.” She rested one of her hands on a lab table, raising an eyebrow. “I just couldn’t stay away from the thrilling suggestion of physics.”

“Sure. And you are...”

Draco just stared at him for a few seconds with a disgusted expression until Y/N elbowed him in the side, hard. “You’ll have to excuse Draco. He’s still going through jet lag. Aren’t you, Draco?”

Y/N sent him a death glare until he wiped the expression off his face and uttered an awkward, “Er, yeah.”

The rest of orientation was just as uncomfortable and unnatural as Draco’s introduction to Mr. Whitacre. Y/N was surprised to see that they had a very similar schedule as Draco seemed entirely clueless to what the subjects even were. She mentioned her concerns to him briefly, but he seemed entirely unbothered.

“It can’t be any harder than school back home,” he told her in his prim and proper voice, prompting a small smile to grow across Y/N’s face.

“Oh, I’m sure,” she said, her voice hardly containing her sarcasm.

The rest of the morning was spent toiling around each of the empty classrooms and memorizing room numbers so Draco wouldn’t be lost come Thursday morning. Y/N wasn’t having an entirely terrible time, as, much to her surprise, Draco wasn’t a complete dickwad. There were moments where he actually had something interesting or worthy to say, and when he didn’t look like he just stepped in something disgusting, she enjoyed the walks between classes. By the end of 5th period, she had concluded that Draco could make absolutely anything sound beautiful in his accent.For once, they were both being entirely civil to each other, and Y/N found herself wishing that the school day went on a bit longer. At least...until the walk to French.

“Excuse me,” a voice carried over Y/N’s as she was in the middle of telling Draco some particularly hot gossip from last year. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

Heather stood to their left, leaning coolly on the wall of lockers, her right shoulder just subtly dropped in their direction.

“Hey Heather,” Y/N greeted. “This is Draco. He’s our exchange student this year.”

“Hello.” Draco’s voice was stiffer than usual.

She smiled, her lips stretching out over perfectly straight white teeth. “Hi Draco! Listen, I know it can be hard here at first, especially if you haven’t grown up around here, but I swear we’re all super friendly.” She held out her hand, smiling even wider. Y/N hardly managed to hold back a laugh as Draco took it and limply shook it like one would fondle a dead fish.

Heather’s face remained just as cheery. “I just want to say that, as ASB president, it’s my job to make sure you feel like you fit in. Let me give you my snapchat, so if you ever need anything, I’m just one snap away.”

“Oookay, thank you Heather,” Y/N interrupted, wrapping her fingers around Draco’s sleeve and pulling. “I’ll give it to him tonight if he wants it. We have to find French now.” She couldn’t tell if it was just her imagination, but she swore that she could see Draco send her a slightly grateful look.

“AP French? Quelle coïncidence! I’m headed there too.”

No matter how briskly she dragged Draco along, Heather was able to catch up and chatter away, asking him about life in the UK and how he found Americans. She couldn’t help but allow a little smirk when he answered, telling her “a little annoying, quite frankly.”

French was even more insufferable than she was expecting it to be. The strict teacher, M. Smith (despite being more American than everyone in the room, yes, he did insist on being called Monsieur), coupled with the weird, forlorn glances Heather kept sending Draco made Y/N feel crushingly uncomfortable. With the way that Draco was fidgeting, she could guess that he felt the same way.

Suddenly, 2 couldn’t come soon enough.

<^>

“So, what’d you think?” Y/N asked as they made their way back to Y/N’s car. She toyed with her lanyard, turning and twisting the keys until they couldn’t twist anymore.

Draco stepped over to the passenger side door, waiting for her to press unlock. “Your friend Heather is very friendly.”

“She’s not my friend, Draco, I already told you that.”

“She certainly comes up to talk to you a lot for someone who isn’t your friend.”

She shifted into drive and began pulling out of the parking lot. “It’s an American thing. And plus, she wouldn’t be talking to me if I didn’t have a pretty boy with an accent living with me.”

Draco froze up, sending her a weird sideways look.

“Don’t be so overdramatic, kiddo,” she continued. “American girls go crazy for British accents. Trust me. There’s going to be so many girls throwing themselves at you come tomorrow that you won’t even know what to do with yourself.”

Y/N tried to keep the bitterness from creeping into her tone as she told Draco this. It wasn’t like she liked him or anything--no way--it was just frustrating to know that the moment he stepped foot on the school grounds tomorrow, he would be snapped up into a flurry of admirers. These few days had felt like she was keeping a delicate, sophisticated secret in the guest room in the hall over, but it was time for her to snap out of it.

“The feeling certainly isn’t mutual,” he finally said. Y/N could see that his head was rested against the window as he looked out into the trees as they passed by a particularly wooded area. “American accents give me a migraine.”

“Funny, me too.”

“But you have one.”

“Your point? Pass me the Advil.”

“The...the what?”

Y/N sucked in a deep breath and tried to keep herself from bursting out into a cackle. “Paracetamol, maybe? I think that’s the British version.”

“Er...I’m sorry?” Draco had moved his head from its resting place on the window to send her a confused look.

“Forget about it.”

The drive back was silent for the rest of the way. Upon arriving, Draco made a beeline for his room and made no indication of wanting to come back out, so Y/N spent the rest of the evening ironing out her physics problem sets and getting her backpack ready for school.

My last first day she thought to herself as she zipped her binders and pencil pouch up, a hint of nostalgia threatening to choke her up for a moment.

The entire situation felt eerie and strange. All her life, she’d been waiting to get out of school so she could go to college and meet new friends and have her fun life experiences, and now it was all beginning to happen. She tried to imagine how Draco must’ve been feeling in that moment and could hardly manage to come up with anything she could relate to. He’d been uprooted from his home, his family, his life, all to move to fucking Ohio of all places to finish out school. Y/N would feel a twinge of pity if he wasn’t such a prick.

Which, by the way, now that she really thought of it, was perhaps becoming overshadowed by all the little things she noticed about him. Obviously, he was very pretty, but there was something else just magnetizing about him that she’d never seen before in a person. The way in which he carried himself, the regal manner he spoke in, the delicate and practiced motions of his hands whenever he did anything menial--it all added up to paint Draco as the picture of elegance. She came to the realization that she’d never met anyone quite like him before as she was getting into bed and turning her lights off. He seemed so incredibly detached from reality, but decidedly so, that she couldn’t help but feel fascinated with it all.

And he was all hers to figure out for the next 9 months.

final a/n: huhhhh isn’t that funny that i actually came out with a different fic than i said i would? i think i want to do that quarantine thing a little bit later and make it a series. i’ve planned that i want to finish mirror, mirror in the coming weeks and then transfer to writing the “one shot” that was scheduled to be posted today as a series as well as this. exciting stuff to come!

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco #draco malfoy #draco x you #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x oc #draco malfoy x oc

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team-free-will-oneshots · 5 years

Text

Beneath the Stars

Title: Beneath the Stars Request: Hi I was wondering if you could do a sam x reader where they’re on a hunt and to stop the monster they have to burn the place they are down and the reader gets trapped in the building and maybe even under some debris and Sam has to rescue them like partly angst partly fluff I just love your writing and wanted to see how you would take this on thnx ❣️ - @supernatural-02 Pairing: Sam x Reader Warnings: fire?? some descriptions of injuries/pain?? some angst?? but with fluff as well. and maybe some mild swearing but i can’t really remember Word Count: 3,619

note: so this turned out a little longer than i expected, but i hope you like it! thank you so much for the request! also i’m super duper tired tonight so i won’t be completing any ship requests tonight - I’ll work on them tomorrow! :)

“So, get this - turns out O’Connor was cremated,” Sam declared, eyes glued to his laptop screen. You frowned, glancing up from your own research, whilst Dean scoffed in the corner.

“Great - what the hell is he attached to, then?” Dean muttered. “The dude was loaded, had estates all over the country - why is he here? Just sayin’, if I was a ghost, I wouldn’t be sticking around this piece of crap town if I could be in a mansion in LA.”

Sam rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair and loosening his tie. As he and Dean began to bicker, you turned back to your laptop, continuing your research of the history of the house in question. It wasn’t spectacular - an abandoned two storey in rural Kansas, home to businessman Ross O’Connor, who died in “suspicious circumstances” in his own bed in 2014, aged forty. He’d been the last known resident of the property, and all seemed well until a few months ago, when interest was displayed in gentrifying the area. Every real estate agent who took on the house turned up dead a few days later, and what little evidence the three of you had managed to collect pointed you in O’Connor’s direction.

Your eyes skimmed the page, burning and strained from the blue light. While Sam and Dean had been in their FBI getups procuring as much intel as they were able, you’d been in the motel researching every lead they sent you. Their voices faded into the background now, nothing but a faint irritation as the words on the screen seemed to melt together. Your head hurt, and you vaguely wondered if you’d remembered to eat today. Sighing, you pulled away from the screen, slamming the lid shut.

“I’ve got nothing,” you declared. “I’m hungry, I’m exhausted, my head’s killing me. How about we head to bed and pick this up tomorrow?” you suggested, and the boys sighed, nodding their assent. As Dean headed for the shower, you laid on your bed, pressing your hands over your eyes in an attempt to block out the glaring fluorescent light. Stars bounced across your vision from the pressure, sparkling blue and yellow and red as they danced over your closed eyelids, lighting up the darkness as your eyes complained against your fingers. You felt the bed dip and glanced up to see Sam sitting at its foot. He offered you a small smile, though his eyes were warm with concern.

“Hey, you okay?”

You sighed. “Fine. I just feel like I’ve hit a wall,” you muttered, and the corner of his mouth twitched in sympathy.

“We’ll get there - we always do,” he assured you, moving to lay down next to you. You nodded, curling into his side as his arm circled your waist.

“Yeah, I know, but… it’s not just with the case. This, hunting, it’s all just… what are we working towards, Sammy? It’s not like we’re ever gonna get rid of all the monsters, so… what’s even the point?” you mumbled. Sam sighed, kissing the top of your head.

“Yeah, I know. But… we’re helping people, Y/N. Once we finish this case, who knows how many lives we’ll have saved?” he asked.

“Sure, I guess… and then they’ll gentrify this place, up the real estate prices, then rich people will kick all the poor people out. How’s that for helping people?” you scoffed. “It doesn’t make sense - this O’Connor guy, wouldn’t he be all for that? Everything I’ve read about him makes him seem like a total dickwad who let money get to his head. I’m just not seeing any motive for preserving that stupid house,” you said, and Sam frowned.

“You’re right, it doesn’t make any sense,” he said slowly. “And what Dean said earlier… he’s got a point. What is there here that this guy is attached to? He only moved here a month before he died. Nothing in this case is making any sense. Maybe we’ve got it wrong,” he mused. You made a noise of discontent.

“Well, we can work that out in the morning,” you mumbled. “I’m exhausted.”

Sam smiled sympathetically, rubbing your back as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You leaned into his warmth, his hard chest a far more appealing surface than the thin motel pillow. Your eyes fluttered as you struggled to keep them open, finding yourself focussing on the stars just visible through the tiny motel window. One thing had to be said for finding yourself in the middle of nowhere, even amidst the frustration of an unsolvable case - at least you could see the stars, see whole galaxies stretching across the sky, beautiful and glimmering and free. The stars faded into darkness as your eyes fell shut.

“Get some rest,” Sam urged, moving to run his fingers through your hair. “I love you,” he reminded you, and you smiled sleepily, burrowing your face into the crook of his neck and placing a soft kiss to the warm skin.

“Love you, too.”

---

It was barely 8 o’clock when Sam’s phone rang - another death. He sighed, alerting Dean as the two of them donned their FBI gear. You settled back in bed, computer in your lap as you continued to research. When Sam and Dean returned a few hours later, you glanced up hopefully, only to be met with downtrodden expressions and a heavy atmosphere that threatened to crush any flickers of hope you still held.

“No luck?” you asked, and Sam shook his head, shedding his jacket and collapsing next to you, glancing over your screen helplessly. You could smell the fresh air still clinging to his hair and clothes, taste the sweetness of the countryside on the breeze that crept inside when the door opened. His skin was flushed from the midday sun.

“Nope,” he affirmed. “How about on your end?”

You sighed. “Nothing.”

“Maybe we’re in over our heads,” Dean suggested glumly. “The amount of deaths must’ve dropped the place’s value by now - they’d be stupid to try and sell it now.”

“Dean!” Sam said sternly. “Those people - they had families, they deserve some kind of justice. Besides, someone might try to buy it in the fu-”

“Families…” you murmured, and Sam and Dean both glanced at you quizzically. You ignored them, brow creased and fingers hovering over your keyboard before you started typing frantically. Article after article arose, and you skimmed them quickly before searching past records. Slowly, the puzzle pieces fell into place. Sam and Dean’s trained their perplexed stares on you, but you hardly noticed - finally, it made sense!

“I’ve got it!” you declared. “Ross O’Connor - no record of him predates 1993. So, I did some digging… turns out, his name’s really Ross Miller. When he was nineteen he had a big blow up with his parents, moved out, even changed his name,” you informed them. Dean’s brow creased.

“So? What’s that have to do with the case?”

“I’m getting to that! So, I looked back at all the past owners of the house, and saw that the last owner before Ross was a woman named Carol Miller - must be his mother. House had been in her family since the fifties.”

Sam’s eyes lit up, and you kept talking. “Get this - Carol died of a heart attack, and six months later, her disowned son comes back into town and declares ownership of the house.”

“Okay… so, what, she left it to him in her will?”

You shook your head. “Nope - apparently, she left him out of her will entirely. He claimed he was forgotten, found himself a good lawyer, and must’ve had enough of a case to snag the old family home. I was right about what I said last night, about Ross being the kind of guy who’d want to make money out of the place. Looks like he was staying there while he helped sort out the finer details of a sales contract - he was the one who set up the plans to gentrify the area. But before it could go through…”

“He turns up dead under suspicious circumstances!” Sam finished, and you beamed, nodding.

“Yep! And wanna know the cherry on the cake? In an interview back in ‘08, Ross was asked about his family and said he and his parents had some disagreements over some property developments he’d proposed - I’m willing to bet that, as an aspiring young businessman, he saw the house might be of value and tried to get his mother to sell it-”

“Hence the blowout,” Sam murmured, and you nodded.

“So, what? His mum’s the spirit we’re looking for?” Dean demanded, and you nodded again.

“Yeah, I think so!”

“Great! Well, let’s just get to the cemetery and-”

“Yeah, that’s the thing - she was cremated too,” you said, eyes scanning your screen as you read the information to the boys. Dean groaned.

“Great. Perfect. So we’re in exactly the same place as before-”

“Not quite,” Sam objected. “Obviously the house was important to her - I wouldn’t be surprised if she was attached to it,” he remarked, and you nodded quickly.

“Exactly! So… what, we salt and burn the whole house?” you asked. Dean’s whole face brightened, and he closed his eyes, quietly pumping his fists in the air.

“Yes!” he hissed. “Flamethrower, here I come!”

---

“I can’t believe we’re actually committing arson,” you whispered, adrenaline levels high as the three of you snuck under the police tape and headed to the house, concealed beneath the cloak of night. It was almost two am, your only company the scattering of stars and the chirping of the crickets. Sam chuckled.

“Y/N, we’ve literally dug up graves and burned the bodies,” he reminded you.

“I know, I know, but this just feels different! Like, we’re literally burning down a house!” you exclaimed, and Sam chuckled again, the sound interrupting the sloshing in the gasoline can that was tight in his grip.

“I still can’t believe we’re not using the flamethrower,” Dean muttered, and Sam rolled his eyes as he picked the lock to the back door, ignoring his brother’s grumbling.

“Okay, she’s not going to go easy - everyone have iron bullets?” Sam checked as the door swung open. You nodded, hand finding the gun at your waist as you spread your fingers over the cold metal.

“Alright, let’s go,” Dean confirmed. “Y/N, you go to the attic, Sam, second floor, I’ll cover ground,” he said, reiterating the plan the three of you had established in the warm safety of the motel. The words sounded different now as the night’s chill bit at your skin and whipped at your face, stealing the whispers from your lips and swallowing them into the shadows.

The three of you slunk into the house - Dean began to scatter salt and gasoline as you and Sam headed upstairs. You finished the attic quickly, heading down to help Sam finish off the second floor. Once the house was saturated, you held the box of matches.

“Okay. You get out, I’ll light up the house as I go down,” you told him. Sam frowned.

“I’ll stay with you - just to be safe.”

You paused, but nodded. Couldn’t hurt. You lit the first match, and that was when the ghost appeared.

She charged towards you, screaming in anger and managing to throw you into the staircase. You cried out, losing your hold on the match as Sam shot her with an iron bullet. She disappeared, but you knew it wouldn’t be for long.

“Let’s go!” Sam yelled, helping you quickly to your feet as you lit a match and tossed it to the attic. It caught quickly, and you were halfway down the stairs when you tossed another lit match on the second floor. It, too, caught quickly. You were readying your third match when you got to the bottom of the stairs, only to find a wall of flames licking up the hardwood floors and heading rapidly towards you.

Shit - the match you dropped earlier. This was bad.

You saw Sam’s jaw tense and his body stiffen as he scanned the situation, calmly planning your escape. His hand found yours, and you let yourself breathe - mistake. Smoke choked your lungs and you coughed, lifting your shirt to hold against your nose. Sam was quick to copy you, dropping your hand as he did so.

“This way!” he said, shouting over the flames now - the floor above you was starting to collapse, smoke obscuring your surroundings as the flames crackled and ate at the walls, the roof, the floor, chewing through the furniture and quickly heading towards the exits. You nodded, following him as he weaved through the flames, eyes focused solely on the front door - the only exit left.

The windows to your left blew out, raining shards of boiling glass over the two of you. Some found your skin, and you swore as you shook it off, struggling to breathe even through the cloth of your shirt. Your hair was plastered to your scalp as sweat seemed to gush from your pores, and your eyes stung from sweat and smoke as you tried to keep up with Sam. But your boyfriend had long legs and a clear eye on the exit, while the smoke billowed over your head and blocked out most of your vision. You could feel yourself getting lightheaded, and when the edge of your jacket caught aflame, the few seconds it took for you to stamp it out were enough for you to lose sight of the youngest Winchester amongst the chaos.

“Sam!” you cried, choking on the smoke that snaked into your lungs. You coughed hard enough that you fell to your knees and retched, blindly screaming for his help, for Dean’s, for anyone.

That was when the ghost appeared - she was burning up, but while the house still stood, so did she. Though her power was fading, her anger made up for it ten times over, and suddenly a beam from the roof was crashing to the ground - right on top of your leg.

You screamed as your calf snapped beneath you, collapsing to the ground as searing pain raged past your knee and up your thigh. The flames greedily licked up your surroundings as the smoke continued to clog your lungs. You couldn’t breathe - you were choking and retching and your throat and nose burned with the acidity of vomit, and you were trapped.

You felt a rush of cool air, and you looked up - there was a gaping hole in the flaming roof, and amidst the blaze, you caught sight of the night sky, a glimpse of navy amongst the orange inferno. The flames leapt into the blackness, and you half expected them to burn it away, to watch the sky fold in and crumple like a burning piece of paper. But it stood steady, and as your vision began to fade and your lungs relinquish their fight, you couldn’t help but think how beautiful the stars were tonight.

-----

Sam was already outside when he realised he was alone.

He collapsed onto the grass, pressing his hot, sweaty face against the cool as he panted, gulping lungfuls of fresh air.

“We made it!” he cried. “Y/N, we-”

He paused, forcing himself to turn around. “Y/N?”

His stomach dropped as he saw the empty space behind him, and watched the building go up in flames.

“Sammy!” Dean’s voice rang through the air, and he appeared from the other side of the building, coughing and covered in ash. “Are you hurt? Where’s Y/N?”

“They-they were right behind me!” Sam stammered, and before Dean could stop him, he was back on his feet and sprinting into the burning building, Dean’s shouts echoing behind him. The smoke was worse up high now, but he still managed to pick his way through the burning debris, heart pounding against his ribcage as he held his shirt - drenched with sweat - over his face.

“Y/N!” he screamed, his heart almost giving out as he caught sight of you, unconscious and trapped under a fallen beam, leg splayed awkwardly beneath it. “Y/N!”

---

The stars were beautiful tonight. Beautiful, glimmering, free. You danced among them, enveloped in their warm glow as they swam playfully around you. They chased you, gleaming and laughing, and the more you ran, the warmer you became. You fell - you could feel yourself sweating, and suddenly you were gasping for air.

And then the stars were falling. You could feel them landing on your skin, like cool, tiny droplets that warmed too quickly in the thick air. Their laughter turned to screams and you felt them smother your face with something hot and damp. Your leg seared with pain, and as the stars fell away, your eyes fluttered open.

“Y/N!” Sam was screaming, voice rapidly coming into focus, and suddenly your whimsical imaginings were just that. The stars falling on your skin were none other than Sam’s tears, or sweat, or a combination of the two. You coughed, realising that Sam had ripped your sooty, sweaty shirt and was holding it over your mouth as he held up his own shirt with his free hand. “Y/N, thank god!” he yelled. “Come on, let’s get you out!”

You could see his muscles strain as he struggled to lift the heavy beam that had trapped you beneath its weight, but he could barely lift it a centimetre off the ground. Your head swam and your chest was tight, but it was a little easier to breathe lying down, close to the floor - probably the only reason you weren’t dead quite yet.

“Sam, it’s no use!” you managed to choke. “Get out of here!”

“No, nonono!” Sam yelled, grunting as he used all his weight to try and shove the beam away from you. It began to give, and you screamed as it’s movement tugged on your broken leg.

“Sammy, you have to go!” you cried, but your words were drowned out by his angry shouts and the roaring of the flames. The beam moved again, and suddenly Sam’s arms were looping around you and lifting you up against his chest. Your leg screamed in protest, and your eyes rolled back into your skull.

---

“They’ll be alright,” a gravelly voice murmured. “I’ve healed the worst of their wounds - but they must rest.”

“Thank you, Cas.” You recognised Sam’s voice, laced with stress and gratitude as it mellowed into a sigh. You felt a hand on your forehead, fingers brushing the hair from your face, and slowly, you blinked.

“Y/N!” Sam exclaimed, voice heavy with relief. “How do you feel? Are you okay?”

You swallowed tentatively. Your throat was raw, and you weren’t sure your nose would ever be free of the stench of smoke, but you found yourself nodding.

“You-you idiot,” you managed to cough, forcing yourself into a sitting position despite Sam’s frantic protests. “You should’ve left me! You could’ve died!”

Sam chuckled dryly. “I’d never leave you - not to that,” he told you, his thumb running gently over your cheek. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes and holding his hand to your face.

“Yeah, well, you’re still an idiot,” you grumbled, and he laughed, genuinely this time, as he kissed your forehead.

“That’s fine by me,” he managed, and you found yourself smiling despite yourself. You pulled away and saw that your hands and clothes were covered in soot and ash, and still sticky with sweat. The motel bed beneath you creaked when you moved, and the blankets were hot over your legs. You kicked them off, marvelling as you realised your leg was healed. You knew of Castiel’s abilities, but when he used them to heal you, it was always disconcerting - injured one minute, completely fine the next.

“You shouldn’t have gone back,” you murmured again, wincing as you saw the traces of a burn peeking out beneath Sam’s sleeve. It was baby pink with tender new skin, still soft and delicate. Cas’s mojo wasn’t what it used to be - but even so, it had saved your life. And probably Sam’s, as well, if he’d inhaled half as much smoke as you had.

“Of course I went back,” Sam whispered, leaning his forehead against yours. You saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, licking his dry, cracking lips still covered in ash as he hesitated, his next words catching in his throat. “When I was in the cage… one of Lucifer’s favourite torture devices was fire. It was the worst- worst pain I’ve ever felt. I could never let that happen to you,” he said thickly. You managed a sympathetic half smile - even after all these years, Sam’s time in the cage still haunted him. He didn’t like to talk about it, so the fact that he did now was enough for you to drop your guard.

Your hand found his, and you squeezed it lightly.

“Well… you saved me,” you whispered, your lips grazing his cheek. He crawled in the bed next to you, his arms circling your waist and holding you close to his body. You nuzzled into his chest as he squeezed you almost uncomfortably close, but you didn’t dream of complaining.

When you finally pulled away, you found yourself distracted once more by the stars. Not the ones behind your closed eyes, nor the ones set into the night sky, still visible through the tiny window. No, not those, not this time.

Sam smiled, a breathless smile so full of relief and of love, and as your gaze met his…

You found the stars in his eyes.

__________

Forever Tags: @babygirloreo @calaofnoldor @stealingheartsswift13 @lmpala97 @sebastianshoe @81mysteriouslyme @castieliswatchingoverme

Sam tags: @sammys-dimpless

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gryffindorsia · 7 years

Text

i just had to write this down somewhere because i’m still amazed that it happened, lol

so last night i went out bar hopping with my friends to celebrate my birthday. we end the night at my go-to bar, just hanging out in a booth. this idiot in the booth behind me is basically waiting to get any excuse to chat someone up. usually, i’ll bite just to see what infinite wisdom men have to lay on me /sarcasm. i’m talking about the blackhawks/oilers game when his drunk ass barely slurs out, “you girls sound like you’re talking shit about boys right now”. that really was his pick-up line, lol. so i say, “actually no, we’re talking shit about the blackhawks”. he gets into how he likes them and how the wings are absolute shit, and blah blah blah. i’m like, “so basically you’re a bandwagoner.” he just kind of laughs then he goes “you’re really not gonna like me for this one, i love the patriots”. and that was true. i like him even less than i did when he decided to eavesdrop on our conversation and wait for the perfect moment to get someone’s attention (so, even less than not at all). basically his only reason for liking them is that tom brady’s “the greatest of all time”, which he repeated about eighty times in the five minutes we talked. anything i said about how much of a piece of shit he is, and how there will always be a better “greatest of all time” with time, just went right over his head. he even threw in the classic, “i’d totally let my wife sleep with him” (dude did have a ring on his finger, so i thought i was safe, lol). and me, just entertaining myself at this point, i respond with “oh so, the typical fragile-ego’d male response for ‘i find him attractive’”. this kind of naturally, shut him up, so i turn to my friends to relay what i ended up ignoring them for five to ten minutes for. of course, i say it with a tinge of “this IDIOT thinks” kind of tone, and i should have known he was fucking listening again (i mean, how fucking bogus of me to assume that when a conversation ends, it fucking ends, and i can go back to talking with my friends that i came with...). my friend lets me know that he was and i ask if anyone wants to go to the bathroom to get out of this scenario, and she’s confrontational, so it was a no, lol. apparently when i was gone, he sat in my seat and talked about how much of a bitch i was being because he was being a “nice guy” [*KILL BILL SIRENS*], and said some derogatory shit to my shit-stirrer friend that i can’t recall. he insists that he is this “nice guy” about fifty times before he walks away to the bar, giving us the evil eye and talking shit about us to his “wife” and everyone at the bar as he gets another beer. mind you, it was one of those baby glasses that you can get wine in from a grocery store. he gulps the two sips down and walks back over to us, slamming the upside down glass on our table, basically just leaving us with a foam ring, and mumbling some bullshit that we can’t hear because he can hardly speak, lmao. like we were supposed to be sooooooo upset and remorseful because he did that to us. my friend tells the guy at the door that they need to watch this dude because he’s piss-ass drunk and being an asshole. he, subsequently, tells the whole staff and they all watch him from then on. soon after, drunk asshole moves onto another group of women who are regulars, so basically now it’s on. door guy and the bartenders walk up to him to politely tell him to get the fuck out. there’s some exchange and he is bewildered as to why they’d want his belligerent ass to leave. next thing you know, you hear the sound of a glass breaking and he is thrown into a chokehold by door guy. he’s a big guy, and it takes all three men to move him from over by the jukebox in the middle of the bar to the door to get him out. guess there was blood involved, presumably from that idiot cutting his hand on glass after breaking it so over-dramatically. if you’ve made it this far, there’s an even bigger payoff, lmao. so after the initial shock of watching that go down, the whole bar is STILL chatting about it. and asshole’s “wife” is STILL sitting at the bar talking to some dude like nothing happened. she eventually gets up to get a smoke, and my wonderful instigative friend gets up to get another drink and get the tea on this, lol. turns out that the two of them, besides being absolutely fucking wasted, were actually on the hunt for another woman so they could have a threesome. that explains why dude was so desperate for every woman in the bar, and that explains why his wife would SEE him hitting on almost every woman there and wouldn’t do shit about it. after a long discussion outside, they finally leave and go to the next bar to check out other prospects. on one hand, it really never ceases to amaze me how women just can’t have a normal night out without being harassed by some dickwad. like it’s just so fucking baffling that girls like to go to a bar just to hang out and drink with no ulterior motives. astounding, really. i think it’s incredibly sad that women have to constantly be on guard for some piece of shit that will ruin their night in one way or another. on the other hand, it also amazes me how fucking fragile men are. they put up this big front like they like women with opinions, but the second you assert yourself or disagree with them, they get all defensive and throw a tantrum like a big baby. they don’t actually care about your point of view at all. they just want to show off how ~masculine and alpha they are. like oh shit, guy. i’m really falling for those charms, lol. i’m a person who likes to debate just for the fun of seeing the other side, exchanging ideas, and talking it out. i’m not out to prove anybody wrong and the instant it turns into that kind of argument, i’m not interested. but seemingly, that’s the only kind of argument that men who approach me or are already in my life seem to want to have. but despite all of this, i can’t say my 24th isn’t one for the books. to think all of this went down because that dude is gay for tom brady.

#under a cut because this one's a doozy lol

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