#years spent dead do not count towards your age here
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car troubles | james kelly x reader
word count: 2.6k
warnings: MDNI 18+, unprotected sex, breeding, praise, age gap, pet names (baby, sweetheart, pretty girl etc), very brief dry humping, a lottt of banter, mention of masturbation, cockwarming (?), afab reader
summary: your neighbor james kelly fixes your car for you while you're home alone.
a/n: i lowkey don't like this fic 😭 but it's probably not as bad as i think it is, BUT hopefully you guys enjoy it more than me :)
it was a blessing and a curse for owning an old car. it was a curse since issues flared up so frequently, but it was also a blessing because it prompted your neighbor, james kelly, to fix it for free.
james was hunched over your car's hood, with a number of tools arranged next to him.
"i doubt this'll take long at all. you just have a dead battery, and maybe a few other mishaps but other than that your car is fine." james explains.
"sounds great. thanks again for fixing my car." you give him a friendly smile. james quickly returns the smile, followed by a small laugh.
"of course, you can always count on me for these kinds of things."
"noted." I fiddle with my fingers nervously before turning away.
"i'll just be inside so just come get me if you need anything."
"alright, will do"
he gives a small nod as he watches you disappear inside. his attention turns back to the vehicle.
ever since your family moved into your home when you were 15 years old, you'd always had a small crush on james. but after you entered college and spent so much time away from home, he had aimlessly plagued your thoughts.
you didn't mean for it to happen, but he just always managed to be the only person you'd think about when you're in bed by yourself. thinking about his tall frame, his long, slender fingers, and the way his arms would shine with sweat from fixing cars all day long always sent a flash of heat through your body.
some time passes and you hear a faint knocking at your back window, followed by the door creaking open just a tad.
"hey, she should be good to go now." he spoke to you as you sit at your kitchen island.
"that was quick, usually the shop takes like, 2 hours. i'm impressed." you chuckle. james gives you a smile and a shrug.
"no need to flatter me sweetheart, I've been doin' this forever."
a shortly lived tinge of arousal goes straight to your core after hearing the sudden petname. it always surprises you when he calls you something other than your name because he rarely ever does.
"if you want you could stay and rest for a little while." you had articulated the plan earlier that day of keeping him in your home while your parents were out, just to see where it would go.
"You wouldn't mind?" james' tired, weary expression lit up and he seemed more hopeful than he had in a while.
"I wouldn't be intruding on anything?" he nervously asked.
"not at all, it's just me here anyways. my dad's at work," you explain, flashing him an innocent smile.
"there's fresh lemonade in the fridge, and if you'd like you can use the shower, i know how hot it is outside."
james cleared his throat and looked over towards you.
"that'd be really nice, actually."
you didn't think it would be so easy to have such a smart man like james fall into your trap, but somehow it worked perfectly. he was in your house, and was about to use your shower. the only thing that was on your mind was simply how much of a genius you are.
"the bathroom's right upstairs, here i'll take you," he follows you upstairs and you lead him to the bathroom.
"there's the shower, soap, shampoo all that stuff." you explain as james stands awkwardly beside you.
"sounds good, thank you i really appreciate it." his voice sounds sincere and soft.
"its no problem really, take as long as you need, i'll just be in my room." you walk out the door before closing it behind you. soon, you hear the sounds of water running from the showerhead.
eventually, you hear the bathroom door open and a small cloud of steam escaping the doorway.
james spots you laying on your bed wearing tiny blue shorts, and a small white tee.
his mouth suddenly goes dry and millions of thoughts begin to swarm around in his mind.
how could you just lay there and look so perfect?
james has been a nervous wreck ever since he arrived at your house. he knew it was wrong to be so attracted to you because of the obvious age gap, but he just couldn't help himself.
he's seen you in so many ways, so many times; outside in the pool wearing nothing but a bikini, laying in the grass wearing your skimpy shorts and tank top casually trying to get a tan, he's even watched you change your clothes right in front of your bedroom window.
he always saved those mental images of you so he could fuck his fist later on.
james clears his throat and looks over at you, standing awkwardly at your doorway.
"oh hey." you smile. james glances over your room and notices your college flag plastered on your wall.
"college huh?" he points at the flag and begins walking towards your bed.
"yeah, I'm almost done actually." you reply sitting up and swinging your legs across the side of your bed.
"how much longer do you have?" he crosses his arms and leans against the wall.
"about 6 months? i'm so ready for it to be over," you sigh heavily.
"did you go to college?" you ask him.
"trade school." james nods
"i figured, you don't seem like you were the frat boy type." you joke.
james' face lights up in amusement as he laughs a little walking over to you. he decides to take a seat right next to you on your bed
"yeah... no. definitely not the frat boy type. never saw the appeal in them."
"me neither they can be obnoxious, can't stand them." you explain. an awkward silence stills before you both.
he looks at you, the corner of his mouth curling slightly in anticipation.
"you must have boyfriends back at college, don't you?" his slight change in tone and lift in confidence makes you a little nervous.
"oh no, i-i don't, college guys aren't really my...thing." you stutter. your gaze lingers on james, drinking his presence in.
his hair, still wet from the shower, glistened in the sunlight coming through the window. you could drool on the spot at the sight of his broad shoulders, muscles barely peeking out of from under his gray t-shirt.
"then what is your 'thing'." james shifts his body to face you more.
you shrug and shake your head.
"i don't know, i guess i just always went for older guys." you confess. you knew it was slightly obvious what you were suggesting but it was now or never.
a sly smirk appears on james' face before speaking again.
"really?"
"always have." you look down at your legs quickly. the way james was staring at made you feel like you were on fire.
"do you like anyone in particular?" james was itching at some kind of answer that could miraculously allude to himself.
"that's confidential." you try to avoid looking at him so he doesn't see the obvious blush spread across your cheeks.
"right, right." james had a small grin on his face as you revealed the answer.
he was almost giddy with joy. he knew what he wanted to hear, but he never expected you still had feelings for him.
"it's dumb, i know," a wave of embarrassment rushes through your body and you immediately regret admitting something so elementary.
"i'm sorry if it bothers you i don't-" james cuts you off
"it doesn't bother me."
"it doesn't?" james shakes his head and smiles slightly.
"no, does it bother you?"
"no." he begins leaning towards you slowly and your brain shuts down completely.
james was close enough to feel your breath as you spoke. his face was a few inches away from yours, and he was looking straight into your eyes.
there was a long pause for a moment. It was as if james thought you were gonna do something.
his voice was a little quiet as he spoke his next words.
"good."
james finally closes the gap between you and presses his lips softly against yours.
a tingle went up his spine as your lips came into contact with his. he had never anticipated this, but it felt different. it felt right.
his hand reached to touch your face and he pulled you in closer slowly, your bodies connecting more and more as he leaned into you.
the kiss deepens and a small whimper erupts in your throat.
james noticed the noise you made and smiles against your lips. his big hands grab your thighs and pulls you onto his lap.
he gently pulled you closer to his body again, his arm wrapped around your waist, and his other arm reached to caress your body as both of your lips touched.
james' lips connect to your neck, nipping at the skin along your jawline.
you moan slightly and subconsciously rut your hips against his.
he let out a groan as he gently broke the embrace to look at you.
"needy girl." he teases.
james grabs your hips and moves them harder against his center. he began kissing your neck as you rested in the position he held you in.
you feel his hand suddenly slip into your underwear.
"oh, sweetheart," james breathes out. he could feel how wet and needy you were for him
a pathetic whine escapes your lips as his finger draws antagonizingly slow circles around your clit.
"james please, i need you." the words that escaped your lips sent a jolt of electricity through his body.
he kept kissing your neck, his hand slither up your shirt, caressing and pinching at your nipples.
your words sent him over the edge and he let out a soft groan.
you needed so much more than his single finger. you mindlessly began to toy with the waistband of his pants, itching to just rip them off of him completely.
james was more than ready to let your hands do there work, as he lifted up his hips slightly.
"can i take these off?" james asks you softly, he begins pushing your shorts down your thighs.
you nod your head quickly and discard your shorts along with your shirt leaving you only in your underwear.
james' eyes shoot straight down to your chest.
"so perfect for me," he coos as he quickly latches his mouth onto one of your nipples, soon leaving little purple bruises on them. your eyes squeeze shut as you feel his tongue flicking against the bud.
the sound of a belt hitting the ground makes you jump slightly.
"i can't wait any longer." james mutters against your lips before pressing his mouth against yours.
his fast hands move your underwear to the side.
the feeling of his cock finally entering your dripping hole made your head fall onto his shoulder and a long breathy moan fall from your lips.
you can feel james' body shudders under you.
"oh, fuck," james waits a few seconds before finally thrusting upwards, moving your hips to meet his simultaneously.
the sound of yours and james' moans followed by the slight slapping of skin filled the air of your bedroom.
"you feel so good baby, so good for me."
if james kept speaking to you in that velvety tone you were sure that you were gonna cum a lot quicker than expected.
your mind was completely empty, not a single thought popped into your brain.
that was soon interrupted by the sound of your cellphone.
"it's my dad." you tell james urgently but he continues to litter your neck with small kisses and bites.
"answer it."
you stare at him blankly, the annoying ringtone still erupting from your phone.
your fingers hesitate for a moment before accepting the call and pressing your phone up to your ear.
"hey dad." you try to stiffle a moan as james begins thrusting up into you again.
it was so difficult trying to contain your moans while still trying to have a conversation with your dad.
"yeah, james came over mm-" your hand flies to your mouth.
you could feel james smirk against your neck as he continues to thrust into you at a faster pace.
"no-sorry, it was a cough."
he was relentless with his hunger for you, and didn't want to keep it at bay.
"be quiet baby, we don't need daddy hearing how good i'm making you feel hm?"
his voice was suddenly filled with a deep and lustful tone, but you loved it.
james heard the talking from your phone but it didn't distract him, it only sent a tinge of excitement in his heart.
he let his hands to roam all over your body, causing goosebumps to spread all over your body.
"he did a great job, the car...the car should be ok now."
your dad just kept talking. completely oblivious to what was happening on the other side of the phone.
james grins widely and let out a quiet moan, feeling your pussy squeeze around him.
his lips left your neck and he let his head lean back on the headboard. he didn't even stop his advances as he heard your dad talking. he just enjoyed seeing you try your hardest to stay quiet as he abused your cunt.
your dad finally says his goodbyes after asking a million questions regarding james' visit and you have never felt so relieved.
"that was a close one." james chuckled.
you let out an exasperated laugh, still not able to fully function. especially now that his fingers begin rubbing furiously at your clit, causing you to moan louder and buck your hips harder against his.
"j-james..." your body was shaking uncontrollably. that familiar not began to form in your stomach and fiery heat began to spread through your legs.
"you gonna cum for me pretty girl?" he taunts.
your face contorts in pleasure as you try to muster up any words that come to mind.
"m'so close-"
"i know baby i know, me too." the grip he has on your thighs grows firmer and his nails begin to dig harshly into your skin.
"come on sweetheart, give it to me." james thrusts harder into you, swiftly hitting your sweet spot everytime.
your walls clench around his cock as you cum, earning a loud, throaty groan from james. his warm seed coats your insides, leaving you feeling full and absolutely satisfied.
"there you go," james coaxes you through your orgasm.
james felt your sweat covered body collapse onto his and he kissed your forehead softly.
he kept his arms wrapped around your back, holding you close to him.
"are you okay?" was the first thing that came out of his mouth after a moment.
"mhm, m'ok" you flash james a tired smile.
he slowly opened his eyes as well and kissed your forehead. he let out another sigh as his arms were still wrapped around you.
then he spoke again, his voice filled with curiosity.
"so...what did your dad want to talk about?" he asked softly, still laying back on the bed with you on top of him.
"he was just asking if you had already come over and everything," you let out a snort.
"i definitely came." you look up at james to see a cocky smile across his face.
"stop," you giggle and slap his arm playfully.
"he also mentioned that he would be staying an extra hour at work."
james' demeanor shifted once you told him the good news of your dad staying longer at work.
"good," james leaned forward and kissed you again, grabbing your hand and pulled you down to the bed.
his hands slowly traveled down to your thighs, and he caressed it slightly before pulling your legs apart and situating himself in between them.
"because i'm not done with you yet."
#nai writes ୨୧#james kelly#james kelly x reader#hayden christensen#hayden christensen x reader#anakin skywalker
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I Can See You
fem!reader x dbf!joel miller
Hi friends! It's been awhile (:
I am back to writing! This time, I'm planning on having many parts to this story. It's a DBF Joel Miller story, which I love to read, which means I had to write it, right?
I wrote this with no Y/N, instead each character gives her a nickname/pet name.
So here's Part 1, I really hope you enjoy!
Word count: 2.7k
Warnings: DBF! Joel, age gap-ish (reader is 25, Joel is 39), eventual smut, joel being a little bit of a perv, reader not having a filter, alcohol consumption
“Mornin’,” His Southern accent was even deeper than usual. My head peaks up from behind my computer, noticing his very tired eyes. The bags under his eyes still somehow did him justice.
“Mornin’ Joel,” I mutter before taking a sip of my coffee. I watch as he finds his way towards my bosses office. He was only my boss at work, but at home he was just Dad.
I watch his ass move in his jeans, shamelessly.
Finding your coworker hot is one thing, it’s another when it’s also your dad’s friend and he was about 20 years older than you.
I’ve thought Joel Miller was quite the looker since I was about 18. I had just started working for my dad. I was mainly just scheduling and doing work orders. Joel took me out to a work site one day, on my father’s request. He wanted me to get know some of the people who would be scheduling work from us. I got to sit around with the property manager of an apartment complex in a tight black dress in the dead of summer, watching guys replace windows. While outside that day, Joel worked alongside some of the laborers, his tanned skin and shaggy dark hair glistening with sweat. Something about him doing manual labor turned me on. Something awoke in me that day, and ever since then, I thirst over him in silence.
I catch myself looking a bit too long, quickly averting my eyes to my computer screen. I act like I am typing something, glancing over to Joel and my dad walking out of his office together. They are discussing another project that Joel was overseeing that would keep him very busy in the upcoming months.
“My girl here will be starting back at college in the fall, so she will only be part time for awhile,” My dad says, drawing attention to me.
“Oh really, where ya going?”
I blank out completely for a moment.
“UT Austin,” I finally answer.
“Smart girl, you living on campus?”
“Nope, just getting my master’s in Engineering so living from home makes the most sense.”
Joel shakes his head, “Master’s. Didn’t you just graduate high school?”
“I’m 25, Joel.”
His eyes scan me for a moment, realizing I’m much older than he remembers.
“Ha,” He grumbles, “Time flies huh, Steve?”
“Sure does, you just wait for that Sarah of yours is off to college,” My dad laughs, slapping Joel’s shoulder. I wince, realizing again he has a young daughter. It wasn’t ideal, to say the least.
“We got about 5 years on that,” Joel says, his eyes returning to mine, “Well it’ll be nice havin’ you around during our busy season.”
“Happy to help,” I reply, not really meaning it.
“Hey, Joel, you and Sarah making an appearance at our BBQ this weekend? We invited the whole neighborhood and I can’t remember if you told me you’d be there.”
His eyes are still on me, “Yeah, I’ll be there,” his eyes return to my dad’s, “Just me and Tommy though, Sarah is goin’ over to a friend’s house.”
“Can’t wait!” My dad cheers, “Baby girl, can you make sure my schedule is cleared Friday evening so I don’t have to worry about when I can get the meat?”
“Of course, dad,” I grit my teeth, “I’m on it.”
-
“Hey baby girl, can you go grab me some extra plates?”
My dad was over the top with his BBQs to say the very least. The whole neighborhood was in on it. Steaks, burgers, hot dogs, chicken, the whole thing. I spent all morning getting the huge backyard and cabana ready for all our visitors. We usually had someone come over to do all the setting up, but Dad made sure to remind me that I was living rent free and being paid on his payroll, so setting up was the least I could do.
People littered the pool and backyard. I weave between people, giving smiles and welcomes where I could.
I walk in to the kitchen, the cold AC air hitting my bare arms. Luckily, I was wearing shorts over my bikini shorts, or else the goose bumps would be up and down my legs, too. I begin searching the cabinets for the large serving plates you always used for big gatherings. Leaning down, my triangle bikini top almost lets my boobs loose. I sit up straight, messing with the knots on my back. I knew tightening it could only help so much.
“Need help?” I almost jump out of my skin. I turn quickly, spotting Joel Miller standing in the kitchen with me.
“Shit, you fucking scared me,” I breathe loudly, patting my chest to make my heart stop racing, “I think I can get it.”
“Mhm,” He sticks a tooth pick between his teeth, “Lemme help, girl.”
God he was so fine. I hated myself for having a crush on him. But the domestic and simple gray t-shirt that hugged his arms so well and the blue jeans? I simply could not resist staring.
No chance in hell. But I got to look at him every day and imagine it.
I turn on my heels, holding the ties out to him so he could tie them.
“I need them tighter,” I mutter, “Don’t want these puppies falling out in front of the Adlers.”
“Don’t want to excite Mr. Adler too much, he may have himself a heart attack.”
I smile to myself, biting my lip. He ties it, his fingers grazing my bare back slightly.
“All good now, girl,” I turn to face him, looking up at him through my eyelashes, “Now what were you lookin’ for?”
“Serving plates,” I explain, “Dad is finishing up those steaks, needs more space.”
“Well let’s get ‘em and head out to all the fun,” He says, ducking down to the cabinet I was looking in originally. He finds them, handing them up to me. He looks so good looking up at me from this angle.
“You want to grab us some beers,” I suggest, “I’ll meet you out there?”
“Your dad runnin’ low?”
“Probably, so grab three.”
–
“So, you going to be here all summer?”
I had no interest in talking to Tommy, but he was keeping me from toeing the line with Joel in my drunken state, so here I am. I sit in my lounger chair, wanting so bad to take off my jean shorts. I knew if I did, Tommy would take it as I’m making a pass, so I sweat extra.
“I’m starting college in August, so yeah I’ll be around the office and staying home.”
He smiles, “Good to hear, love seeing you around.”
I smile back faking a cheery laugh, “Thanks, Tommy… care to grab me another beer?”
“No problem, sweetheart.”
I watch him walk away before searching the crowd for Joel. I spot him across the yard, talking to one of the newer neighbors. A single mom who moved in two months ago. My dad kept joking the other night that he’d be making her my stepmom, which only made me gag. She was beautiful, younger than my dad, but just about Joel’s age.
A pang of jealousy rises within me.
Joel finally catches my wandering eyes. He smiles gently, giving me a nod.
“Here, darling,” Tommy says sweetly, “Need anything else?”
“Yeah, actually,” Your brother, “Can you help me with something?”
“Sure, ‘s up?”
I sit up, leaning over making my boobs hang right in his eye line.
If I couldn’t keep one Miller’s attention, maybe I could snag second best. My beer filled brain thinks about how they are cut from the same cloth, so they both are probably good at this.
“Do you want to help me change a lightbulb?”
He raises his eyebrows, “I guess, where at?”
I smirk, “My bedroom.”
We sneak away, my eyes scanning the area. It didn’t appear as anyone was following us. My room was the last room on the left upstairs, so the anticipation as I guided him down the hallway was killing me.
Ever since Joel grazed my back earlier, I’ve been ready. So fucking ready.
“Are we actually changing a lightbulb?”
I open my door for him, gesturing to him to follow me in.
In the dim light, Tommy was very cute. He was a sweet guy and I knew he’d be the first to jump on my idea.
“You tell me,” I say, starting to untie the knot Joel tied. In my moment of trying to be sexy, I realize Joel tied the stupidest and hardest knot ever. Tommy notices my struggle, reaching around me, frantically trying to get the top off.
As it gets loose, I reach up to grab his neck.
“What the fuck is going on ‘ere?”
His voice freezes me. Tommy looks towards the door in horror.
“Joel-“
“Tommy, you fucking know better,” His voice is so intimidating and scary, I cant even muster the courage to turn around, “Git.”
Tommy gives me eyes saying I’m so sorry, and I just stare blankly at my wall. I hear Tommy’s foot steps run down the stairs. I realize how drunk I am because my wall paper begins to move on it’s own. It doesn’t usually do that.
“Now you,” His stride towards me is quick, “I’m not your Dad, but don’t think he’d like you fucking his employees.”
Maybe it was the liquid courage, “Who said I was trying to fuck him?”
I snap my head towards his stern and impossible to read face.
“Bullshit,” He spits, “He got through my knot, he assumed somethin’ was about to happen.”
“Well, even if that’s where it went, why are you putting your nose in our business?”
He chuckles darkly, “So now it’s ours, huh? I have you know, girl, Tommy’s business is my business. And you’re just makin’ my job hard.”
I tiptoe closer to him, “And what’s your job, again, Mr. Miller?”
“Make sure people are behavin’ themselves.”
I realize what he’s doing. My tipsy mind took a second to search his face for more, but I can't read him at all.
“I’m behaving, Mr. Miller. I promise,” I reach up, touching his jaw, “No more funny business.”
It was the closest I had ever got to him. I felt a rush just touching him.
“Good, get your top back on and come down to the party. Your dad is looking for you.”
I look down at myself as he leaves the room. My fucking tits are out, and he didn’t even look down.
The game he was playing was not the same one I was playing.
–
The next morning, I have a pounding headache and no drive to leave my room. I was embarrassed and horrified. I knew I would have to face Joel and Tommy on Monday morning, so I had to make amends beforehand. I really didn’t want them to tell my dad and I was pretty out of line for trying to fuck Tommy when Joel wasn't giving me the attention my drunk ass thought I deserved.
After spending hours in bed, rolling back and forth thinking of a script to say, I figured that honesty is the best policy.
Well, honesty with a little bend in the truth.
I get showered and dressed. My usual summer time outfit was a crop top and short shorts, but today I needed to be more… conservative.
I find a nice summery dress, that went to midthigh. It was yellow, not a lot cleavage, floral. Innocent.
When I get downstairs, my dad sits in the living room, his feet propped up watching the news.
“Where ya going, baby girl?”
“I’m going for a walk,” I lie.
“Wearing that?”
“Yes,” I nod quickly, “Do you need anything while I’m out?”
He shakes his head, “No, have fun, I guess.”
I could tell he was suspicious, but he wasn’t one to pester me too much. He had high expectations for me, but I always exceeded them. He never questioned me too much, unless it was about school. He didn’t even really care about my love life. He always got excited when I told him I was going on dates in college. I mean, I rather him be excited than bother me about the guys I was seeing.
I start my journey to Joel’s. I didn’t even know if he was home or not, I was going on blind faith.
It was hot as shit and I was not fully prepared to walk to his house in a dress and sandals.
I could’ve just driven there and back. But no, I decided to roast in the hot summer sun.
–
When I arrive to his house, I just kind of stand in his driveway, catching my breath. He was home, his truck was here.
I walk to the front door, knocking first then ringing the door bell.
It takes about minute, but he gets the door.
And he’s shirtless.
It was the worst and best moment of my entire life.
“What are you doing here?”
And it’s not quite the response I was anticipating when I arrived at his door.
“I uh-,” I hear some stirring inside the house, which causes me to peak my head past Joel’s shoulder.
I see movement, but my eyes find Joel’s again before I could focus in on it. He pushes me back a bit, coming outside and shutting the door behind him.
“I came to apologize, but you seem busy.”
He shakes his head, “Not busy, just woke up.”
“With someone?”
What the fuck? Why can’t I shut my mouth?
“Pardon me?”
“Well I walked this whole way to apologize about my inappropriate behavior yesterday,” I explain, “But yeah, that’s it.”
The door creaks open and I am wholeheartedly anticipating a hot MILF or something. But instead, it’s a little girl.
“Sarah, get inside!”
“Oh hi, I know you!”
I smile at the girl. She was cute, I had to admit. She looked a bit like Joel, mainly the smile. A smile I wasn’t too familiar with, because he wasn’t too keen on my jokes. Ever.
“Yeah, I work with your dad,” I explain, “Nice to see you, Sarah.”
“You too, do you want to have lunch with us?”
“Sarah she can’t st-”
“I’d love to, only if your dad says it’s okay.”
He got himself in a pickle, but I was aching to have a conversation that didn’t involve me putting my foot in my mouth like I almost did again. Plus, some food and water would help the heatstroke I felt coming on.
He stares at me, almost like he wished I’d disappear, “Of course, come in. Sarah is making sandwiches.”
“I hope you like turkey and cheese!”
—
“Thanks for the sandwich, Sarah,” I say, wiping my face making sure I didn’t have mustard left over.
She smiles with her mouth full, “You’re welcome!”
“Hey Sarah, why don’t you go get ready for swim practice,” He suggests, “Me and your new best friend need to have an adult conversation.”
She looks up at him annoyed, “I guess, but don’t scare her away. She has a cool pool I want to swim in.”
I laugh out loud, “Yeah, don’t scare me away, Joel.”
He doesn’t laugh, he just looks at me with his lazer eyes. I just wish Sarah a farewell and shut my mouth, waiting for the storm. He stirs, eating another bite of his sandwich.
“So you came to apologize, huh?”
I swallow, “Uh, yeah. I’m sorry for my inappropriate behavior. I had one too many yesterday.”
He nods, “Yeah you were practically falling out of that top of yours before you took Tommy upstairs. Surprised you didn’t have it off before then.”
My eyes widen, “Well that’s humiliating.”
“Don’t think anyone was particularly mad about it,” He says, “Maybe one of those neighborhood watch moms, but who cares about ‘em?”
I can’t help but smirk. Was he insinuating that he wasn’t mad about almost seeing my boobs?
“Yeah, they always give me the most disgusted looks when I’m out jogging.”
“Cause’ they miss bein’ young and beautiful,” He explains, “All their husbands stare, too.”
I can’t believe he’s talking to me like this, I find myself leaning in a bit to try to talk quieter. It seems like this is conversation we should be whispering to each other.
“Do you stare?”
Foot. In. Mouth.
He smirks, giggling a bit. I finally got to see him smile.
“Of course, I do.”
----
Hehehehe tell me what you think! I'll be back with part 2 soon!
#Joel Miller#Joel miller x reader#The last of us#Joel x reader#joel miller smut#dbf joel miller#age gap joel miller
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Familiar flame
Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/General Kirigan/The Darkling x fem!Grisha! reader
Summary: Aleksander lost his Y/N the day he created the fold. The king's soldiers killed his one true love in front of his eyes. His despair and anger led to the creation of a dark fold. After centuries, Aleksander meets a girl identical to his beloved… her reincarnation. Will he be able to restore your memories? Could he get you back after centuries of mourning you? Or maybe Aleksander finally lost his mind...
Nonsense from me: This is request from @morrigan-crowmwell I hope that you like it! ♡♡ And I'm veeeery excited to write your next request! (and to publish it soon ♡♡) P.S. I'm sorry it took me ages again, luckily I'll have a lot more free time now, so I promise it'll get better. 😅
Warning(s): references to reincarnation; Aleksander misses the reader and can't resist her (even if she doesn't remember him); the reader is a bit hysterical; the reader behaves like a little child spoiled by Aleksander; the reader has Aleksander wrapped around her little finger, but he doesn't care; the reader has a panic attack and hyperventilation; de@th mentions; NOT CHECKED grammatically and so on - I wanted to publish it as soon as possible
Word count: 9,4k
Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @morrigan-crowmwell
"So many centuries on this earth, and you're still a naive, hopeless romantic. Tell me how do you do it, boy?"
Baghra taunted him without even looking up from her dinner. Aleksander growled, irritated by her lack of interest. He slammed his fist on the table, drawing the unfazed woman's attention to him.
"It's true, I saw her! It was her!"
"Aleksander... you must move on." Darkling snorted, jumping up as if burned from his chair. Baghra followed her son as he ran out of her hut, not giving up. If they both had something in common, it was their great stubbornness. "How many times have you seen this girl? You have to realize that she's not coming back. Y/N is dead, Aleksander. For hundreds of years."
"She is here! I danced with her month ago at the ball, you can't tell me I didn't because I remember her face perfectly. It is etched in my mind more permanently than any other memory."
"You wanted an answer to your question. Here it is. There is no such thing as reincarnation, the reappearance of someone on this world. We die once, Aleksander. Once and successfully. So whoever you met yesterday, even with a face that looks like her, is not Y/N. So you'd better leave the innocent girl alone."
The Darkling laughed bitterly, shaking his head. His mother would never see him as more than a small, quick-tempered, silly boy. He should get used to it after all these years.
"You think I'd come to you with this if she was just one of the faces like her? Me and my people have been watching her for a month now, ever since some snobbish nobleman's daughter came back to the palace and turned out to be the only woman I ever cared about in this saint-damn world. It must be her. I don't know how, why, and honestly, I don't care as long as it's really her. Neither should you - as far as I remember you cared for her more than for me."
"Aleksander. I know you loved her, but you have to let her go. People just don't rise from the grave." she tried to reason with him. But he knew better.
It must be you. Somehow the Saints took pity on his tortured soul and returned you to him, and he wasn't going to stay further away from you than necessary.
He will have you again in his life, arms, and bed.
No matter what he has to sacrifice to restore your memories.
"Just as they don't live forever, and yet we do." he growled as he mounted his horse and galloped back towards the Little Palace. He was in for a long night spent in his library, poring over books. If Baghra didn't want to help him, he would find the answer himself.
"You stupid boy..." Baghra snorted, shaking her head in disappointment.
Your death was both the worst and best thing for her son. You would never live as long as they did - your death would have come anyway, just in a less bloody way. Ordinary people were fragile, and their lives were shorter—one breath of Baghra or Aleksander equaled thousands of them. She had no idea why her son was so stubborn about getting you back, even though you were truly reborn. Aleksander would lose you again. Even he couldn't fight death itself and go against nature in such a matter... or so Baghra hoped.
The boundaries that Aleksander wouldn't cross in your name were practically nonexistent.
And she would be afraid of him more with you by his side - the most powerful Etherealki woman this earth has ever seen… a tribrid with the powers of Squaller, Inferni and Tidemaker.
~•♤♤♤•~
It all started a month ago.
Aleksander was at another of the king's balls, circulating among the generals of the First Army, trying to win their favor and consent to a slight modification of their plans. For his and Grishas' benefit, of course.
He would never have guessed that a conversation with General Petrova, the king's irritating, faithful soldier, would bring him more than a headache. It was usually with him that the Darkling had his greatest disputes during war councils.
However, while the general caused him the most trouble of all in the king's court, he was one of the few who respected the Darkling not for his powers, which instilled fear among other soldiers, but for the sake of his tactical, sound thinking.
Never in his life would Aleksander have thought that General Petrova's daughter would be a faithful doppelgänger of his long-dead beloved.
He was stunned as soon as he saw you enter the room.
Anywhere, even on his deathbed, he would have recognised that mischievous twinkle in your eyes whenever you were given full attention. You were a vision. Apparition. A fairy tale that was etched forever in his memory.
And he may have lived many lives, met millions of ordinary people and thousands of Grishas, but this face, the face of his loved one, whom he only met in his sweet dreams and darkest nightmares, had never ever flashed a second of his hundreds-year life. There were no humans even close to your beauty...
And then, after hundreds of years of sorrow, pain, and grief, he saw you again. He was again enchanted by your mesmerising eyes, your sweet, mischievous smile, your tempting lips... He let himself be lost for a while in the view of his beloved before questions started to cross his mind.
How? When? Who is she? From where? Could it really be you? Hundreds of years in pain, only for you to walk casually one day to one of the balls of a king whose ancestor killed you?
Aleksander didn't even notice when you approached him and General Petrova. But YOUR voice, his Y/N's voice, definitely brought him back into the world. Like a strong, vicious slap.
"Father. It was definitely too long." Aleksander almost broke down there. Being so close to someone who looked like you, hearing your voice again in REALITY, smelling the perfume so damn well know to him - the same one which made him lose his mind ages ago for you...
"General Kirigan. My daughter, Y/N. Y/N. General Kirigan, commander of the Second Army." your careful gaze finally met his. And Aleksander was gone.
Saints save him… even those bloody, fucking eyes he would die for were the same….
"It's a pleasure to meet you, General Kirigan." Aleksander couldn't do anything else but reach for your hand and kiss it—something he'd also dreamed of a thousand times, but in his dreams you only used his true, real name. "Your fame extends to the farthest reaches of Ravka. I am glad to see the legendary Darkling with my own eyes." Aleksander shivered as his title spilled out of your mouth. Not with mockery or insult or fear, but flatteringly, strongly… He had to control himself. It wasn't his Y/N… unless…
"I think these aren't very… flattering stories."
"You'd be surprised, General…" Aleksander could feel himself melting under her attentive gaze. The number of long-buried emotions overwhelmed him. And he himself felt his long-forgotten, dead, cold heart come to life again under each of your charming smiles, warm tone of voice, and enticing looks.
Now that he had had the opportunity to look at her more closely, he noticed all the (perfectly familiar) small details.
The way your hair was styled—so that a few strands stand out from your perfectly styled hairstyle, no long earrings, only small pearls that your hair would be harder to get into, delicate jewellery, not flashy like most women's, jewellery that instead of testifying to your wealth emphasised your beauty.
You seemed so familiar to him…
"Do you dance, General?" your question snapped him out of his mind about HIS Y/N.
He didn't dance on such occasions. Never. But he would be damned if he didn't try to find out how far your resemblance to his Y/N goes.
"If you wish, Lady Petrova." he replied with a charming smile, reverting to his image of a confident general of the Second Army.
"Please..." she grabbed his hand. The touch of her delicate skin against his rough made him shiver uncontrollably. He was putty in your hands... but he would be cursed if he let go, if he loses again the one thing that holds him firmly in this world. "Call me Y/N."
"Y/N." he mumbled, leading her to the dance floor. He gripped her securely around the waist, pulling her close enough to be considered appropriate. "I'm dying to see how this one's ends."
"Not only you… general." you peeked at him over those beautifully painted eyelids, biting your lips lightly. Reincarnation, doppelgänger, or real you, you always had to tease him, you always challenged him. And he was more than willing to play that game with you again… even if he wasn't holding his Y/N in his arms.
"Please..." he turned you around to pull you back to his chest. He smiled, remembering how those Y/E/C irises were the only thing that mattered to him hundreds of years ago… he marveled at how they still enchanted him. And having you in his arms again, so close he could smell your scent again… it made him dizzy. "Call me Aleksander." he whispered into your ear, getting close enough not to touch you but to feel the warmth of your cheek against his.
Was it wise to tell you his name? Absolutely not. Did he regret giving himself up to this moment? The answer came to him after a few seconds.
"Aleksander..." your soft whisper made him shiver. The old memories, the ones he tried to bury in his mind, the ones that were both sweetly blissful and devastating, came back to him. Foolish hope rose in him the moment your brow furrowed as if you, too, recognized the significance of what had just happened.
If he'd had any doubts before, he definitely knew now... he was cursed. And he didn't care enough to break this spell you put on him.
~•♤♤♤•~
"Y/N! Rise and shine, you lazy ass!" you groaned, covering your head with a pillow.
"Go away demon. It's too early for anything." you mumbled, snuggling into my comfy bed. You snorted in surprise when suddenly your friend threw herself on your bed and brutally tore the pillow off your head, laughing like a madwoman. "Y/F/N!"
"What have you been dreaming about?" she asked with a sly smile.
"About nothing." you muttered as you got out of bed and walked over to your closet to pick out your outfit for today.
"Yes? Is that why I found you grinning like a psychopath in love and mumbling someone's name? Is there some poor guy you finally like? Who could it be? A soldier? Maybe a nobleman?" you huffed in amusement as you walked out from the wardrobe.
"I haven't gone crazy yet. The world will burn before I voluntarily muzzle myself with marriage."
"Doesn't change the fact that someone caught your eye, does it?" she inquired with a curious smirk.
"Let's go, you hopeless romantic. I believe you dragged me out of bed over that very exciting tea time with the queen." you sighed, knowing full well that this meeting would give you a terrible headache.
"We're going to suffer together, sweetie. But cheer up. Genya will be there. You've liked her company lately, haven't you?"
"She's too good for these royal assholes." you replied, taking her arm and walking out of your room towards the palace gardens.
During that month, you quickly fit into the role you had to play at court. And thanks to your numerous travels, you managed to win enough favour with the queen to become a permanent member of her "group of snobbish noblewomen". You also met Genya, Grisha, an angel among the palace demons who was rather unpopular at court… well, at least not when the queen didn't need her Grisha's skills.
The meeting with the queen dragged on as usual, you couldn't help but wander your mind to your today's dream interrupted by Y/F/N.
"Aleksander!" you laughed, punching him lightly in the chest. "Stop teasing me."
"I don't do anything, milaya." he replied smiling innocently which made you snort. You crossed your arms and gave him a meaningful look.
You were in the little library at his house. (By the way, it's a miracle that he and Baghra found a place for their books in such a tiny hut.) You tried to get to one of the books on the upper shelves, but Aleks had other plans. He stood in front of you, and every time you stood on tiptoe to reach the book, he took the opportunity to grab your waist and pull you into a kiss.
"You do not?" you asked, trying to get to the book, but Aleksander caught your lips in a kiss again. "Aleksander!" you huffed, punching him in the chest with a laugh. "Your mother will kill me if I don't at least start reading this book." you complained, laughing at the smug man. He was so childish sometimes... You squealed as Aleksander suddenly grabbed your waist and pulled you close, burying his nose in your hair.
"I am more than strong enough to protect moya milaya from my bloodthirsty mother." he whispered, placing a tender kiss on your temple.
"Aleksander." you moaned as he moved his lips to your neck. You ran your hand through his hair, giving in to the feeling for a moment, until you remembered what you were supposed to do today. "How about a compromise?"you asked, taking his attention away from your neck for a moment.
"A compromise? And how do you want to negotiate your freedom, lapushka?"
"I'm not blind. I see you're clingier than usual today. Of course you won't let me out of your arms, which I can't really say I'm complaining about… But since I'm about to spend the rest of the day on your lap or in your arms, then you could at least read me the book Baghra told me to learn by heart." he was thinking, rubbing his nose against yours.
"I think I can accept it." you squealed in surprise as he picked you up bridal style, lifting you up so you could reach the book you needed. "But I reserve the right to give you some breaks. As your beloved I've got to make sure my little tribrid doesn't overwork herself." you giggled, making his smile of satisfaction only grow wider.
"What a good and caring lover you are, Aleksander." you teased, knowing full well what the study breaks were for… or rather, for whom.
"Have you ever doubted it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, the sparkle of amusement in his dark eyes only made your mood more up. You loved seeing him so happy, carefree.
"No. Never." you whispered, kissing him with all your love and tenderness…
Such nonsense dreams have plagued you almost every time since you met the general. Visions of his younger self and yours, as if the two of you lived together hundreds of years ago. It also didn't help your plan that, for some strange reason, you felt this... attraction, this desire to be close to him.
You didn't know where your sudden fondness for the Darkling came from, but one thing was certain. You had to get rid of it. And that's before your father presents the king with plans to permanently disband the Second Army and return all the Grishas to the slave system. You couldn't give in to some stupid feeling towards their general... not when everything you and your father had worked for was coming to an end.
"Lady Petrova. You're surprisingly quiet today." the queen has distracted you from the thoughts that have plagued you for weeks. You put on your learned, polite smile.
"Forgive me, Your Majesty. I'm not feeling well today. I think I have a slight migraine, but it should pass soon, Your Highness."
"You look paler than usual… Genya, lady Y/F/N. Take lady Y/N to the healers." you had to do your best to keep the frown from appearing on your face. This old witch…
"Your Grace." instead, you bowed to the queen and walked away with the two women at your side. You didn't speak to Genya until you were sure you were out of earshot of anyone other than the three of you. "I'm fine, Genya. I just had to get out of there."
"Then I should thank you for saving me from there too." she replied with a smile as tired as yours. "But the queen was right. You looked a little pale earlier. Are you sure everything's okay? I can improve your appearance and cover up those little dark circles under your eyes if you want."
"No need, sweetheart. But if you somehow have power over dreams, it would be really helpful." you joked, knowing full well that Grisha are incapable of entering other people's dreams… though you doubted it after the general's face haunted you at night in those strange dreams.
"It would be great to be able to do that."
"Anyway, thank you, Genya. You can hide somewhere in the palace. You deserve some time off." the woman nodded to you and headed towards the Grand Palace, leaving you and Y/F/N alone in the gardens.
"Okay, what's the matter? What are you dreaming about that you can't sleep? And why are you hanging around Grishas and Darkling lately? You want to settle him down or something?" your friend asked annoyed. You looked around, making sure you two were still alone.
"I'm not going to settle him down. My father wanted me to take care of our strong, dark general. After all, what's the best way to steer a man who doesn't care about anyone but his people, than an affair with a pretty, nobel woman?" you asked with a cunning smile.
You preferred to keep your strange dreams to yourself… at least until you were sure it was just a stupid figment of your imagination and growing teenage crush on a dark general.
"I don't quite understand… so what exactly are you doing with him?" she asked, growing suspicious as you headed towards the Little Palace.
"It's just a game. I charm him with my beauty, spend time with him, and so on, which makes him less interested in the war, and I don't have to put up with my father's complaining about me finally getting married. I serve both Ravka and my own interests. Isn't it wonderful?"
"You'll get burned. Be careful with him. He's a Darkling. If he finds out…" she warned you, slightly scared. You snorted, shaking your head. You looked around one more time before whispering conspiratorially to her.
"Then what will he do to me? It's in his interest to keep our little affair as a secret, the dignity of a man and all that crap won't let him seek revenge openly - he'll only embarrass himself even more. I'm perfectly safe." you replied confidently as you left the gardens. You smiled. According to your plan, the general should leave his palace right now to meet the council. It was your job to make sure he didn't get there… well, at least not for the most part.
"If you say so… But you have to admit, even you, that he's hot."
"That's true... which only makes it more interesting..." you saw Kirigan coming out of the Little Palace with one of his loyal dogs by his side... Ivan or the other, you couldn't remember. You smiled slyly, sensing a good opportunity. "Excuse me."
You didn't waste any time. You immediately approached the general, inwardly triumphant with the smile he sent you as soon as he saw you… the grimace on his companion's face was also the reason for your good mood.
"Lady Petrova."
"General Kirigan. So you do occasionally leave the Little Palace."
"Indeed it happens sometimes." he smiles back at your teasing, keeping his distracting dark eyes on you.
"Then I can't pass up this opportunity to take you anywhere other than the path leading to the Grand Palace or the gardens. It's a beautiful day for a ride, don't you think? Perhaps you could accompany me?"
"Actually…"
"It's a wonderful idea. Ivan, could you get our horses ready?" the general interrupted his Girsha. You lowered your head, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling victoriously. As Ivan passed you, you stepped closer to the general and turned your careful gaze back to him.
"He doesn't like me very much, does he?" you asked, catching the arm he offered you as you two walked to the stables together. "Your gruff companion." you added seeing his confused look.
The general snorted, placing his hand over yours, which made you shiver uncontrollably. You internally chastised yourself for such a… pathetic reaction to his little touch.
"Ivan is… specific." he finally replied making you chuckle.
"I saw the look he gave me when I took you away from him, like I was stealing his favorite cuddly toy." Kirigan snorted, which made you smile. You felt how your cheeks redden involuntarily at the sound of his laughter. "You don't have to always defend your people at all costs, General. Well, at least not in such a case." you replied with a smirk.
"Ivan is a good soldier and comrade… he can be funny once you get to know him."
"Then I guess you find volcra hilarious too."
"And maybe one or two of the queen's nobles." you gave him an offended look, placing your hand over your heart in a hurt gesture.
"Ouch. That's good that my company at least gives you some fun. It must be really hard to always be that grave, grumpy, dark general."
"Surely it can be lonely sometimes." his thoughtful, sombre statement ruined the fun atmosphere between you two.
For a brief moment, you could see the familiar twinkle of grief in his eyes before he hid it behind his mask of indifference. You knew that feeling. Especially after being transferred to different courts so many times. You had to master your emotions to perfection… especially the feeling of loneliness that was getting worse every day.
"Well, that's good that I have enough time to play a foolish, wayward, snobbish noble around you… maybe you won't feel so lonely, anymore." you joked, not knowing if you were saying it out of a duty to get close to him or from the depths of your completely lost and confused heart, which always acted like that near him.
"You're not the worst noblewoman I've ever met." the amused note returned to his voice, as did the twinkle of mischief in his eyes.
"Maybe you just didn't know me good enough?" you asked, stopping by the stables and letting go of his arm.
"Maybe..." he replied thoughtfully, not letting go of your hand.
You turned back to him. Your gaze lingered on your joined hands for a moment, until you shifted your confused gaze to him.
The moment your eyes met his, any questions you wanted to ask him escaped your mind. You could only stare blankly into his eyes. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you flashed an image of the younger Aleksander you dreamed of... the exact same one who was giving you an affectionate look like the general was doing now.
"Aleksander." you whispered, not even realising when the idea of saying his name popped into your head.
You were besotted, too mesmerised by the dark irises that stared at you like some saint, like you were all he ever wanted to look at for the rest of his life, to think of anything other than getting closer to him.
And the worst of it all was that you had no idea how you knew the smell of his cologne and why it reminded you of home, of safety. Or why he seemed so familiar to you…
"Yes, milaya?" you trembled. You knew he felt it; you knew he saw how you reacted to the nickname his younger version gives you every night in your dreams… and although it reminded you of something only a close person could say to their beloved, for the hell you didn't know what it meant or how he knew about it. But before you could answer something (or take the one little step that lasted between you and him to feel his lips on yours), Ivan arrived with your horses. "Thank you, Ivan." the general cleared his throat. You could tell by the tone of his voice that he wasn't happy about being interrupted either.
"General. Let me remind you that in two hours…"
"Postpone all my appointments. I'll be unavailable." you couldn't help but send Ivan a victorious smile from behind Kirigan's shoulder, which made heartrender wince. Aleksander turned to glance at you, and you gave him a nice, polite smile, making sure the flash of malice disappeared from your eyes. The man shifted his confused looks to Ivan. "I'll be back tonight. Lady Petrova needs an escort."
"Of course, General, have a nice trip."
"Thank you, Ivan."
You gave Grisha a fleeting glance and malicious smile before you and Aleksander left the palace grounds. Ivan has tried to stop the general from joining you more than once this month... he has failed miserably each time. Seeing Grisha grumpier than usual was another advantage of your quest... besides being with Aleksander.
"Wanna race?!" you shouted, not giving him time to answer as you galloped your horse along, laughing as the general chased after you.
~•♤♤♤•~
"Forgotten fountain in the middle of the forest? I didn't think you knew such romantic places, general." you said with a teasing smile as you dismounted from your horses.
"You find it romantic?" he asked, throwing an amused glance over his shoulder as he tossed out the branches in the fountain. You smiled, internally laughing at how the great general commanding the entire Second Army was preparing the atmosphere for your pseudo date.
"Oh, don't tease me. You know what I meant. It's amazing that with your work schedule you have time to wander around and find places like this."
"You do realize I have free time sometimes, right?"
"Rearranging figures on a war table is no leisure time, General." Kirigan snorted, shaking his head in amusement. You smiled as you walked over to the fountain to stand next to him. Only then did you see what was so amazing about her that the general brought you here. It was dedicated to the Black Heretic. "Wait… that's your ancestor's story, isn't it?"
"You know it just from those old pictures?" he asked, apparently impressed with your knowledge, to which you snorted indignantly.
"Of course. Every child in Ravka know his story... well, or at least they should. To be honest, I'm not sure how ignorant the other nobles are, but I hope they're not that bad after all. But I'm guessing you didn't bring me here for a history lesson, did you?"
"When I was a boy, I used to run away and hide here once I realised I was the descendant of the most hated Grisha in Ravka. I've come here to throw a coin and make a wish in the fountain that I could be anyone else."
"A dangerous wish." I murmured as I looked at the pictures on the fountain to avoid his scrutinising gaze. "You never know what fate may befall you. It may turn out that things weren't so bad after all." I replied, remembering all the stories of noblewomen I had the opportunity to know... not all of them lived wonderful, fairy-tale lives. At least not the ones with powdered bruises.
"I devoted my life to undoing the greatest sin of my forbear. But I never seen this as a solution. Only as a reminder of the problem. They always need someone to blame."
"Every story needs a villain." you replied, sitting on the edge of the fountain, facing the general. "Sometimes it happens that there are several of them in one, if we look at the matter from the perspective of someone else. So forgive me if I say that I don't consider your ancestor to be evil incarnate."
"Why wouldn't you?" he asked curiously, walking over to you and sitting across from you.
"Every coin has two sides. Maybe he created a fold; maybe he wanted more power, but no one ever told it from his side. Maybe he wasn't the only villain in this story. Also, I don't believe in a golden hero and a vicious villain fighting doggedly against each other. There are no pure black or white people; we are all grey in our own way." you said, dipping your hand in the water, playing with it, and making small waves with your hand movements.
You glanced at the general, noticing that he was closely watching as you played with the water. You furrowed your brow, not knowing what so interesting he sees in this childish behaviour.
"And how gray are you?" his question snapped you out of your thoughts. You shrugged, still running your fingers through the water.
"I think I still have a long way to go to find out."
"What if I already know?" you frowned as you looked at him, which turned out to be your worst mistake. His dark eyes were to be your undoing…
You felt it again. This need to be close to him, this bond between you and him that was formed from the moment your eyes met in the ballroom a month ago. You were supposed to be his undoing, the downfall of the great, black general... so far, he's been the one who's been messing with your mind effectively, making you doubt everything your father ever taught you about your superiority over the Grishas. And you played the role Kirigan expected of you, like a foolish, naive girl.
"And how would you know that?" you whispered, cursing yourself for the obvious weakness in your voice.
Kirigan placed his hand on yours, the one you used to lean on at the fountain. His touch sent that weird feeling into your chest and made you shiver uncontrollably again. You were losing control… and the worst part was that you didn't mind at all.
"I feel like I've known you and waited for you my whole life. As if you were long lost part of me, which finally came back." you couldn't get rid of that terrible feeling of déjà vu that came over you after his words.
Somewhere in the back of your mind and deep in your heart, you had the feeling—no, you were SURE—that you had been in this situation before. That he once held your hand, telling you that you were destined to be together and that the stars, fate, destiny, saints, gods, or whoever was watching over you were responsible for bringing your souls together.
But it was impossible. You didn't know him before, you couldn't. You've never been to the king's palace until now…
However, everything ceased to matter the moment he leaned in, crossing the short distance between you and catching your lips in a kiss.
You gasped in surprise, your only warning being his tighter grip on your hand, which you only noticed after his soft lips gently pressed against yours. However, you had the sense to return his kiss, deepening it just as you felt Aleksander about to pull away from you.
He grabbed your waist tightly with one arm, pulling you to him, but he never let go of his firm grip on your hand.
You groaned, sinking into the so damn familiar closeness of his body against yours, taking in every ounce of his warmth and scent. But it was his gentle biting on your bottom lip that made you forget anything other than his lips on yours and let yourself get completely lost in the moment. You took your hand out of the water, grabbing the back of his head to get as close to him as possible, when suddenly a huge wave of cold, chilly water splashed you.
You gasped, breaking away from Kirigan. You sighed as cool water dripped from your hair onto your already-soaked dress that was sticking to your skin. You shifted your confused gaze to the equally wet man in front of you, who stared at you with an incomprehensible, fascinated twinkle in his eye.
"What have just happened?" you gasped, glancing at the now empty fountain.
"Are you asking about our kiss or the fact that you just demonstrated tidemaker's abilities?"
"What? No. I can't be Grisha. I…"
"Have you ever been tested, milaya?" he asked softly, so calmly he almost managed to calm your frantically beating heart. But you couldn't shake the feeling of panic rising within you. All plans would go to hell if you turned out to be… one of THEM.
"You know perfectly well what it is like among the nobles. They would rather kill or throw away a child with such powers." you replied, marvelling at how you managed to sound cold and emotionless despite your growing fear.
Kirigan frowned, obviously dissatisfied with your ability to cover up your emotions. What you didn't know was that your eyes betrayed all your emotions to him. He'd stared at them for so long that it would be impossible for him now not to be able to read your emotions.
"Well… it's always better to know, isn't it?" you stared at him for a moment before you nodded uncertainly, swallowing nervously. You couldn't be Grisha. That… whatever happened, it couldn't be it. "May I?" he made sure, pointing to the sleeve of your dress. You nodded silently.
For a moment, the world stops. It's just you and the general, who, with unusual delicacy for him, rolls up the sleeve of your wet dress and uses his sharp-pointed ring to cut your skin.
You're both shocked and oddly excited to see the water gushing out and the hot fire coming from where he cut your skin. Suddenly, a wind rises around you, drying you both and blowing some of the leaves off the trees into the empty fountain. You freeze, feeling the dormant power coursing through your veins, which the general's touch awakens with incredible ease.
It's like he's bringing to life a version of yourself you don't know...
"You are a Grisha. Etherealki Tribrid to be precise." he says, breaking the silence between you. You raise your confused gaze back to him, noticing that he's still studying your face. Weighing, evaluating, expecting something, and having hope so clearly written in his dark eyes that for a moment you are at a loss for words.
"You… you don't seem surprised." you manage to get out of you. You are terrified of your weakness right now. But with the general staring at you with such... tenderness and longing, you're not sure which of you has put your heart in more danger. You just don't know what caused this sudden, overt display of affection for you.
"I felt your power. Only someone special could carry such a huge amount of energy. You and I are going to change the world, Y/N."
"But… I can't… no one can know about this. Please, Aleksander." you pleaded in a panic, gripping his hand tightly. "Promise me that this will stay between us. If my father finds out about this… if the court finds out… Please, Aleksander." the man was staring at you. Apparently, the prospect of having a tribrid in his army was too tempting for him to just forget what had happened here. You had to convince him otherwise. "Wouldn't it be better if it stayed between us? You could train me yourself. Secretly teach me how to use… this. Wouldn't it be better to have a secret weapon? Someone who can be summoned to the battlefield if needed and used as an element of surprise?"
"I don't want to use you." he growled, wrinkling his nose as he realized how sharp his words had come out. "I want you to be my equal, Y/N. But fine. We'll keep everything that happened here to ourselves. You'll come to my office every night so we can train."
"Every night? You want to cause a scandal, General?" you ask, regaining your ability to joke and banter.
For now, you hide all your doubts, fear and greyness that your life will change irreversibly in the back of your head. You allow yourself to get lost in the general's eyes for a while before returning to real life… before you have to decide what to do about the "Grishas case", knowing your newfound abilities now.
"Do you care?" you know what he's asking you, but he doesn't know how many different meanings his question has for you. And you're afraid that once he finds out about your plan against him and against his people, he'll stop looking at you with that... adoration in his eyes. Because, for some strange reason, you want him to look at you like that.
"No…" you replied, moving your gaze between his mouth and eyes. "I guess not."
~•♤♤♤•~
"I can't believe it! How did you know that was my favorite dish?!" I ask him after another grueling session of our training as he returns with a dinner brought to his door by servants.
"I have my ways." he responds, laughing as you practically pounce on the food ravenously. You didn't realize that using Grisha's powers was so… exhausting.
"Just like my allergy to the awful pollen that's out now, what particular, specific type of tea do I like, and what books do I prefer to read? What's next? Just hand me my favourite flowers and tell me it's pure case?" you laugh over your plate, glancing at him briefly. The general blushes slightly and clears his throat awkwardly. "Oh, Saints, you do have flowers for me, don't you?" you asked as a little smirk started to form on your face.
"It seems to you, vain little tribrid." you tremble at his words, and that sick feeling of deja vu follows you every time his damn dark irises pierce your soul. If he wanted you to go crazy, you're sure he was well on his way to making it happen.
Aleksander, on the other hand, stared longingly at you, searching for any trace of recognition in your eyes. How many times in those training sessions has he wished your memories of living with him would come back to you? He didn't know. Ever since he made sure you displayed the powers of virtually all ethereals, he's spent countless sleepless nights in his bed dreaming of the moment you'll whisper that damn nickname you love for him.
But nothing like that was coming.
Instead, he had to fight this urge to kiss you to death, to hold you forever in his safe arms where nothing could hurt you. He had to fight his longing for your slightest touch, your tender gaze, and the unconditional love you had. And with each passing day, he cursed himself for his inability to remember the life you two had spent together.
He was desperate enough to talk to his mother about it. He went to her as soon as he was sure it was really you to brag about his hunch and victory over her judgement. And complain about your innate ability to spite him and not remember him when he worked so hard to make it happen.
"If it's not her, then explain to me how she's already ruining all my plans and is getting on my nerves?" he asked, raising an inquiring eyebrow at Baghra.
"Just because you have a natural bad luck with women doesn't mean Y/N is back from the dead." she replied ironically, not even looking up at him.
"It is her. And when I prove it, forget about seeing her, because I won't let you."
"I'm not a spoiled child, General." you laugh back, snapping him out of his thoughts as cool water hits his chest. He raises an eyebrow at you, failing to keep an amused smile from spreading across his lips.
Saints, how he wants to kiss that malicious smirk off your alluring lips. But he has to be careful with you. He has to control himself. He can't lose you or scare you away now, not when he's so close to getting HIS Y/N back.
"You're definitely acting like one." he replies teasingly as he takes out the flowers hidden behind his back and hands them to you.
You sigh in shock before another heart-melting smile appears on your lips. You dip your nose in the flowers, and Aleksander tries to remember this moment forever. The silent hope that you will remember one of the many times he gave you those special flowers you loved bursts into unwillingness in his chest.
"Please, as if you don't like to spoil me…" you just reply teasingly, reminding him how fate was never on his side. It would be impossible for him to just get you back like that.
"I'd throw all the jewels in the world at your feet just to see that beautiful, wide smile spread across your lips." you tremble under his heavy, intent gaze, feeling him ignite that familiar, strange fire inside you, calling for him.
The answer to his confession just slipped out of your mouth as a whisper.
"You don't need jewels to make me smile like a fool in love."
Aleksander flinched as he recognised the words you said to him—the exact same words you used in response to his confession hundreds of years ago. You liked torturing him with it. Remind him of stolen moments with you in the woods, away from the king's men, his mother, and other envious people too scared of your abilities to see you as anything more than a dangerous monster. You loved throwing him into the past, while you stuck hard to what was happening now. At times like this, he promised himself that once he had you back, he would never let you go. He won't be that weak to let someone take you from him again.
You, in turn, watched him bewildered as another vision/memory flashed before your eyes. His warm lips on your wind-cold skin, his whispered promises in your ear as he held you close to him, his shadows dancing around you, shielding anyone from seeing you two.
That memory revived in your mind as the general's lips met yours.
Kissing him, enjoying the firm grip around your waist, you had those strange visions again. You were beginning to wonder if the general had seen through your cunning plan and decided to punish you by driving you crazy with these supposed memories.
But you didn't want to do anything about it. Not when he felt so good against you.
You kiss him greedily, tangling your hands in his hair and pulling him closer to you. He picks you up, placing you on his war table. Your hands travel up his shoulders to the buttons of his kefta and his to the strings of your corset at the back of your dress...
Just then, a loud knock interrupts you.
You laugh in disbelief that they're bothering you again. Aleksander smiles, biting his lip as he looks at you with amusement in his eyes. How he missed your sincere, carefree laugh.
"Go see what it is." you whisper to him as you slide off the table to stand on your own feet. Aleksander smirks mischievously and leans in to steal a kiss from you. You giggle as you push him away and whisper a softly "go".
You blush, feeling like a teenager caught kissing a boy. And you have a very strange feeling that this has happened before...
"Aleksander!" you squeal, laughing as quietly as you can. "Someone will see us!" you reprimand him by tapping him lightly in the chest.
"Only if you keep being so loud. Besides, how can you blame me for wanting to kiss my beautiful beloved after weeks apart?"
"Your secret beloved I would like to point out. Baghra and my parents will kill us if they find us here." you remind him, only smiling wider as his grip tightens around your waist.
"They'll have to go through my shadows first… that gives us enough time to escape."
"Well, well, what a cunning boyfriend I have. I like that plan of yours." I whisper into his lips, teasing him, as I move away each time he wants to kiss me.
"Y/N?" Aleksander's whisper and his gentle grip on my shoulder pulls me out of my memories. "Everything's all right?" he looks at you with concern in his eyes and something else, something like longing mixed with hope. You have no idea what it could be.
NO. I have strange visions of you where you love and need me more than anything in this world. I have dreams of a reality where it's just us, too busy loving ourselves to see anything else or care about all the problems in the world. And I have a feeling that I'm going to go crazy if you once again arouse in me that feeling of familiarity and fire that for some unknown reason cries out desperately for your slightest touch and affection. - you think.
"I'm fine, just thought of something. What did Ivan want from you?" I ask with a gentle smile.
"I have to go now. The First Army soldiers and my Grishas have reportedly gotten into some kind of fight. I need to investigate it."
You freeze, knowing full well what's going on. Your and your father's plan. Kirigan is about to get into the middle of a fight caused by the people of the first army (actually hired by your father's thugs). A fight with a general defending his people in the main role will start, which your father and the king are supposed to come across by "pure accident". You were supposed to let him get into your trap.
"I'll be back as soon as I can. Don't worry, it's probably some stupid skirmish." he assures you, but you know better. You know that once he goes there, he will be banished at best for suspicion of treason and wanting to start a rebellion - rumours your father is now spreading to the king.
Your brain screams for you to let it go. You were Grisha, but people like you would never accept you; you knew that. And the nobles would kick you out if they found out about your powers; it was safer for you to get rid of the general, the only person who knew about your abilities.
But your stupid heart already bled at the thought of putting Aleksander in danger and being the cause of his downfall—the thing you were supposed to be so proud of only a few months ago.
"Wait!" you scream, reaching for his hand before he steps away from you. You lost. You lost the war with the devil and sold him your heart and the soul he had anyway, since he kissed you at the fountain, since he started appearing in your dreams as a strange vision of an alternate world where you live with him as his. A vision you desperately wanted to come true. "Please don't go."
"Why?" he asks, placing his hands gently on your shoulders.
"I... you can't... trap... my father... and king... they..." you hyperventilate, tears welling up in your eyes uncontrollably, and an indescribably great feeling of unease seizes you, making it a huge challenge to take even the slightest breath.
Suddenly, all you hear is a buzzing in your ears. Slowly, your knees weaken, and you fall straight into the waiting arms of Aleksander, who looks like he's screaming something. You are enveloped in blissful darkness.
But before you lose your consciousness one thought runs through your mind.
What the hell did I did?
~•♤♤♤•~
You opened your eyes. It was dawn. You were in a clearing near some castle ruins. There were a lot of soldiers around you.
You slowly got up on your elbows and lifted yourself off the ground. You tried to push your way through the crowd of soldiers, but as soon as your arm was about to touch one of them, you felt yourself walking through it. You froze in place.
The sound of Aleksander's voice snapped you out of your daze. You walked forward, passing through the soldiers as you reached the stairs of the palace ruins.
It was a younger version of him, exactly the one you saw in your dreams. But this time it wasn't a pleasant dream. The love in his eyes was replaced by pure fear and fury.
You turned to where he was staring and gasped as you spotted a beaten, bloodied version of yourself held by one of the king's soldiers.
"Surrender. Or your girl will die." Aleksander stared at the younger version of you, trying to make eye contact with you, making sure you were still holding on to your life for him, despite the gruesome state you were in. "This one was brave. She was willing to die than reveal your hiding place. Fortunately, we got another, weaker one. Now, you better hurry before that bitch bleeds to death."
Tears began to form in Aleksander's eyes. He raised his trembling hands in surrender. You lifted your head with difficulty, watching him.
Then all hell broke loose. You set a soldier on fire and started a great fire. You tried to approach Aleksander and he came to you, but the soldiers around you were faster. One of them caught you; the rest kept Aleksander, who was struggling with all his strength, from rushing to your rescue and summoning his shadows. The soldier drew his dagger.
Your eyes and Aleksander's did not separate for a moment. Desperation and fear were reflected in his eyes, which met your gaze full of sadness and fear for his life.
"Aleksander, I love you-AGH!" you tell him when a soldier pierces your heart with a dagger in front of your beloved.
"Y/N!" Aleksander screams, tears in his eyes obscuring his vision at your last breath and your last look at him. He is overcome with rage, grief, and frustration so great that he can do nothing but scream.
His scream proves deadly. Deadly for his enemies.
His grief, desperation, and tremendous pain piercing his heart and seeing his beloved Y/N die raised within him a power so great that it covered the world in the darkness of his shadow.
And so the fold is born.
And Aleksander remains utterly alone in his darkness.
~•♤♤♤•~
You jump out of bed, screaming. You just saw yourself die... but it wasn't you, was it? It's just your twisted imagination. Aleksander couldn't... couldn't create the fold. The Black Heretic lived hundreds of years before you; it couldn't be true. It's just your sick imagination. You kept telling yourself.
You looked around the room, recognising that you were in the general's bedroom. You changed out of his black shirt, which you don't know who put you in, and left the bedroom in a hurry. You didn't know how Aleksander would treat you after he found out about your father's plan, and he certainly did after your panic attack in his war room. You also didn't want to risk getting caught in the general's chamber.
You were about to leave Aleksander's chamber, but someone's hand grabbed your arm tightly and covered your mouth. You tried to wriggle out of his attacker's grip, but in vain. Fortunately, the stranger let you go as soon as you entered one of the secret passages of the Little Palace.
You turned around, freezing as you came face to face with the woman haunting your dreams…
"Who are you?" you whispered in horror, recognizing the woman as the light from her torch illuminated her face.
"It doesn't matter. You need to get out of here as soon as possible." she grabbed your hand again in a strong, bruising grip, but this time you managed to pull away from her.
"Who the hell are you?! Why am I dreaming about you and some Aleksander?! How do I know you, Baghra?!"
"Hush for the saints! We're not far from his room." she tried to silence you, fearing that at any moment you would bring Aleksander back to his chambers here.
"Whose room? General's? What does he have to do with it? What the hell is going on here?!"
"Shut up you stupid girl before he comes here. I'm trying to save you."
"Saved me from what? I don't need a hero, thank you very much. All I want to know is why I'm having these fucking visions about you. Who are you? Why am I having some weird flashbacks about you from hundreds of years ago?" you ask, tired of it all, trying to finally get to the truth, whatever it may be.
"Aleksander was right… it's true. It's really you." she says in shock, eyeing you closely as you use all your powers in anger, summoning both fire, water and a light breeze in the deserted secret passage.
"Aleksander? Which one? Kirigan or some other? Answer me for the love of saints!" you scream at her, feeling like you're about to lose your mind at any moment.
"Child, there is only one Aleksander. My son. Aleksander Morozova. Black Heretic. General Kirigan and many other names he's taken since you died."
"What? What are you talking about? It's impossible, a Black Heretic lived hundreds of years ago… wait. Since I died? What do you mean by since I die?" the vision you just had haunts you again. Your blood, Alexander's screams. Screams of people turned by his grief, anger and rage into volcra as he creates a fold...
"You real name is Y/N…"
"BAGHRA!" Aleksander's furious scream echoes through the deserted corridor. He walks over to me faster than I can blink and stands between me and his supposed mother. "Go away."
"Aleksander..." she begins in a serious tone, but one dark look from the general keeps her silent. Never, not even during their worst quarrels, had he dared to oppose her so openly, so hostilely.
"I said... Go. Away." Baghra looks at you. Half in disappointment, half in fear, knowing full well the reason why her son is ready to use his shadows on her.
She lets go. This time. She knows full well he can't bring back your memories anyway. Or at least she hopes so.
Shee leaves you alone in a dark corridor. Aleksander slowly turns to you and reaches for you, but you pull away before his fingertips even try to touch you. He freezes. He watches you fearfully, afraid of what Baghra might have told you to make you so disgusted by his small touch.
"Don't take a step further. Why do I know you? Why did YOU know me before anything started between us? What the hell is this all about?!"
"Y/N... you need to calm down." he tries to calm you down as he sees you gasping for breath again. He reaches out to touch your cheek tenderly but you jump away from him. The fire begins to slowly circulate around your hands as you unknowingly summon it.
"DO NOT TOUCH ME! Who are you? Who are you to me? That's true? Are you a Black Heretic? What is going on here?!" you scream, you feel an indescribable power flowing through you that you are unable to control, a flood of emotions floods your mind, and your powers go out of control as a great wind rises and the corridor begins to slowly fill with water. The fire in your hands grows bigger, more alive, more uncontrollable.
"My milaya, please... try to calm down for me." he says, taking a step towards you with his hands up so you can see his every little move, every attempt to touch you.
"What am I?" you whisper, your tears flow freely, the water begins to rise faster and faster, the wind is so great that it blows both his and your hair and his black kefta in all directions, and the living fire from your hands prevents him from approaching you without risk of burning himself. But Aleksander doesn't care.
He wades towards you through the water that comes up to his hips and cups your face with both hands, forcing you to look him in the eyes. As soon as his skin touches yours, everything stops. The wind stops blowing, the fire disappears, and the water stops at a constant level. It is quiet. Eerily silent as you stare at him in a daze, tears dripping from your eyes into the makeshift river you created in the hallway.
"You know who you are. Just reach for it. Please, come back to me, Y/N Y/L/N. Moya milaya, moya lapushka..." he pleads, resting his forehead against yours.
You close your eyes. The flood of vivid memories makes your head hurt, but as soon as all the images are gone from your eyes, you open them to look into those familiar dark irises that pierce through you. And you cry with relief, finally knowing perfectly well how you know him, why you associate him with home, peace, love, unconditional devotion.
"Sasha?" you whisper, afraid you've gone completely insane, that it's all a nasty, twisted figment of your imagination.
And Aleksander sighs with relief hearing that damn diminutive he missed so much.
"It's me. My beloved Y/N. My life. My Light. My tribrid. You are finally here." he takes you in his arms as tears flow freely down your cheeks. You snuggle into him, your nose brushing his neck as you inhale the damn good smell of his perfume. Aleksander buries his nose in your hair, trying to hold back tears as he trembles uncontrollably. He finally had you. After hundreds of years, months of torture where he had you at his fingertips but couldn't touch you properly, you were finally with him. "Eya fyela chi." he whispers in old Ravkan, making you laugh in relief.
"I love you too, Sasha. I promise I'm not going anywhere anymore. Nobody and nothing will take me away from you."
"Brave of you to think I'd let you go anywhere. You stay by my side. Forever. I won't waste such a wonderful gift from the saints, my little flame." he says, kissing your temple.
You shiver for the first time enjoying the familiar feeling of love and warmth that comes with this tender gesture, often repeated by him in the past.
He leaned in, catching your lips in a passionate, long-awaited kiss. And you couldn't do anything other than enjoy the taste of his lips on yours and how you could create new memories with him without the old ones attacking you with every touch he made. You are no longer an intruder in your own body. And the unknown fire calling for him turned into the familiar flame of love.
#aleksander morozova x reader#aleksander morozova x y/n#aleksander morozova#general kirigan#general kirigan x reader#the darkling#general kirigan x you#darkling shadow and bone#darkling#the darkling x reader#darkling x reader#the darkling x you#shadow and bone#angst#love#oneshot#kasagia#aleksander kirigan#kirigan x reader#baghra morozova#lost love#angst and fluff#darkling x y/n#darkling x you#reincarnated lovers#reincarnation
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My Breath through the Deep Water
Pairing: (pre-relationship) Edwin Payne/Charles Rowlan/Ghost!Reader
Reader Gender: AFAB Trans Masc / Non-Binary
CW: pre-canon, reader is dead, neglectful/abusive parents, chronic illness & anemia, implied periods, yearning (everyone is yearning, everyone is oblivious), discussion of spousal murder & abuse, supernatural activity, Death & Dream cameo, you can pry Y/N from my cold dead hands
Word Count: 3,098
Summary: Dying in your sleep was supposed to guarantee your spot in the Dreaming. But when you end up stuck as a ghost on the mortal plane, you go to the only ghosts who can help: the Dead Boy Detectives.
A/N: I have fallen for the dead sad bois. This show is perfect and I am attached to them now. Title from Deep Water by American Authors. The reader’s backstory is based off my chronically ill childhood. Reader is meant to be around the boys’ age. I think this probably the longest one-shot I’ve ever written, so cheers to that!
Shout out to lilacclorceta for beta reading this for me!
Masterlist | AO3 Link
--- 1992 ---
The wooden door with a windowpane stood right in front of you. You took in a deep breath – one you arguably didn’t need anymore – and walked through. There were two ghostly teenage boys inside, one sitting at the desk in the middle of the room and one fiddling with the clearly-marked cases board. A nervous ball wadded in your stomach. Asking for help was never your forte, but you were at your wits end.
“Um…” You mumbled, “Excuse me?” The two boys looked up. The one in a suit and bowtie raised an eyebrow while the one in red gave you a welcoming smile. “Are you the Dead Boy Detectives?”
“That we are!” The one in red said, before turning to look at the other. He nodded. “Come in. I’m Charles, this is Edwin. How can we help you?”
You stepped further in carefully. “I… um… I need your help figuring out why I’m here…”
Edwin – the one in the suit and bowtie – nodded and gestured to the spot in front of the desk. “Please, we’ll need to know everything.”
Charles walked around and sat on the edge of the desk, angled toward Edwin. Again, you took a breath you didn’t need. “Death never came for me and I… I have no idea why…” Charles’ face flooded with sympathy. Edwin’s remained blank. “Thing is,” you hesitated, looking over their heads as you spoke, “I know where I was supposed to go, technically speaking. But I just… didn’t.”
Edwin quirked a brow in intrigue. “And you do not have any unfinished business? You’re positive?”
“No, that’s the thing. If I do, I don’t know what it is.” You responded, looking to him.
“So, what happened?” Charles probed. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is, how’d you die?”
You sighed and looked at your hands. Death never came for you. Just another sad occurrence in your already depressing life. A sick, painful, lonely life. You’d died as you’d lived: alone. Neglectful parents combined with a severe bleeding disorder left you sickly and weak until the very end. No one rushed to help you, always taking their time to try anything. Months before any medication to help with your heavy bleeding, and months more until a single blood transfusion, losing more and more lifeblood every day. As you grew weaker, you spent more time sleeping. It’s there you discovered an escape: the Dreaming. You spent your short years stuck at home, visiting the Dreaming to help with the ache. Your friends – if you could call them that, given they were dreams – said you’d stay in the Dreaming were you to die there. It was a hopeful outlook, given your rotten luck in life.
And then you died in your sleep. You were in the Dreaming at the time. You blinked, felt a strange tug at your core, then opened your eyes to your bedroom, your pale corpse lifeless under the covers.
A lone tear rolled down your cheek as you told them your story. You quickly wiped it away with your thumb. “Sorry, still fresh.”
“Hey, don’t worry. Only natural, isn’t it? Dying alone sounds scary, I’m sorry you went through that.” Charles said.
Edwin’s face was twisted in fascination and curiosity. “Charles, a word?” He interrupted, facing Charles.
He dragged him into the closet before he could respond. Their voices were muffled through the door. You fiddled with your fingers, anxiety swelling in your throat. “I can pay!” You suddenly burst, voice just loud enough you hoped they could hear you.
Charles stepped out first and sat back on the desk. Edwin stood straight – his hands clasped all proper – next to him. “We’ll take your case.”
“Oh, thank you.” A relieved breath left you.
“Now, you said you could pay?” He continued inquisitively.
You nodded. “Right, well I inherited a collection of rare books on the supernatural from my grandmother. The books are still there. I don’t think my parents are ready to move on yet, honestly. They’re yours, if you help me.”
“Oh, brills! Edwin’s always looking to add more to his collection, right Edwin?” Charles smiled – almost smitten, if you didn’t know any better – at Edwin.
Edwin fought back a smile. “Yes, Charles, thank you.” He nodded his head toward you. “Now, let us get started.”
--- 1999 ---
“I come bearing gifts, my friends!” You smiled widely as you walked through the office mirror. A thick manila file was in your hand.
“You are aces, you are!” Charles laughed, taking the file from your hand. “Oh, look at this, old Mr. Brewer’s got some nasty skeletons, eh?” Edwin peered over his shoulder.
“Interesting. So, he caused the death of a young woman 48 years ago, and yet she didn’t seek revenge until now?” Edwin remarked before looking up at you. “Well done.”
Charles handed the file to him and swung an arm around your shoulder. “That’s a compliment in Edwin’s book, right there.” He squeezed you against him. The comforting pressure had you leaning in further.
“Thank you. I’m glad I could help.” You smiled, glancing at the pretty boy with his arm around you. “Gotta give you a reason to keep me around, right?” It was a half-joke – something frankly pitiful if you were honest with yourself.
“Nah, none of that,” he chuckled, squeezing you again, “we like you, don’t we? Besides, your case isn’t solved. Not a good look, if you ask me.”
“Yes, you’ve become a valuable member of the Dead Boy Detective Agency. We’d both be completely lost without you.” Edwin snarked, half sarcastically. “Now, did you happen to learn anything else from this source of yours?”
You smirked. “Apparently, Brewer’s nephew bought a typewriter from a seller of supernatural artifacts last year.”
“And, let me guess, she was the original owner? Oh, that’s brills.” Charles leaned over Edwin, practically resting his chin on his shoulder. His chocolate brown eyes scanned the page. “Haunted objects are practically our bread and butter.”
Your gaze rested on him for a moment before you tore it away. You dug out a scrap of paper out of your inner jacket pocket. “Yeah. My source, as you so called her, said this would help with sorting it out.” You handed it to Edwin.
He nodded and scanned it. “Wonderful, I’ll get to work on this. You two do some leg work, find out what you can about this scorned woman.”
--- SKELETONS IN THE CLOSET ---
Charles and you walked into the house. It had been abandoned after Thomas Brewer’s death. His only living family was his nephew, who didn’t want to live in the city. The only ones hanging around seemed to be Brewer himself and this unknown woman. It was dark. The windows were drawn to keep out street light. The furniture was covered with white tarps. Blood stains surrounded the single armchair in the living room. Other than that, nothing out of the ordinary.
The two of you split up. You took to the main floor, Charles upstairs. You skirted around the red-stained floor. The bookcase left of the telly was practically overflowing with books. The old man had clearly collected. And there, sitting right in the middle of the fourth shelf, was the typewriter. It looked normal, just a regular typewriter. You really wouldn’t know it was haunted by an apparently malicious ghost. You didn’t touch it – you wouldn’t hear the end of it if you did. Instead, you went to the office off the living room.
The large wooden desk was covered in a thick layer of dust. The right drawer was locked. You opened all the others. Nothing of note on the woman, unfortunately. Behind the desk, a painting of a lakefront. You pulled it off the wall to reveal a wall safe. Typical.
“Found something!” You called, leaving the room to find Charles.
He was in the main bedroom. His back was to the door as he read a leather-bound book. He tilted his head to you as you walked in. “He definitely killed her.”
“Diary?” You asked, sitting next to him.
He hummed and shifted the book for you to read too. “Her name was Mary. She was his wife.” He paused and closed his eyes. “He pushed her down the stairs when she tried to leave him.”
“Oh,” you muttered, forcing your eyes away from the book. “Then, I suppose he deserved it.”
“Yeah…” His voice dropped slightly and you could sense his anger rising. Your hand slid easy into his and gave it a comforting squeeze. His shoulder slumped against yours. His past was coming back to him – you could tell in the way his shoulders drew in and his mask slipped slightly. A solacing silence settled over the two of you. The pressure and proximity were a comfort for both of you.
“We should go.” He eventually broke the silence.
“There’s a safe and a locked drawer we should deal with first.” You replied as you stood up. It was as if the moment hadn’t happened. And well, you were both professionals, after all.
“The client lied to us. He did know her.” Charles told Edwin. You’d returned to the office to find Edwin in a state of undress you rarely saw him – that is, without his suit jacket – knee deep in research. He was surrounded by piles of books mostly regarding object hauntings. A small smile formed at the sight. He was perfect in his own way, something that made butterflies flutter in your stomach in the same way Charles did sometimes.
You zoned out of the conversation. The two boys – your boys – were easy on the eyes. They were both so damn pretty. The kind of pretty that stalled your breath and made your heart skip a beat. And on top of that, they were the perfect duo. A verifiable old married couple if you’d ever seen one. And they made you feel more alive than you ever did before. Somehow, Death had granted you a gift. The realization was almost a shock to the system. They were your best friends, your family. You wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Hey!” Charles’ hand suddenly waved in front of your face. “You still in there, mate?”
It jerked you out of your stupor. “Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry.” You looked up to him. His brown eyes were full of concern. “What’d I miss?”
Edwin raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. “Your friend was right. I have the spell I need to unbind Mary Brewer from the typewriter. Once she’s free, her and Thomas should be able to move on. Get ready. We leave in an hour.”
--- A WOMAN SCORNED ---
Why did nothing ever go to plan? A spectral claw dug further into your shoulder. No pain followed, but a heavy feeling of pressure followed. Mary’s elongated, horrific form screamed eerily into your face. You turned reflexively. Edwin’s voice came somewhere behind you. His Latin was just barely audible. Charles’ cricket bat thwacked the enraged spirit, but she only tightened her grip on you.
“Please hurry up!” You yelled; voice tinged with panic. “Charles!”
“I’ve got you!” He said. You could just barely hear him riffling through his bag. Mary drooled over you as she bared down on you. Then, she screamed loudly. Charles had swung on her with his knife. She reared back. Her claws released you. You dropped and scrambled. “Yeah, that’s right. Leave them alone.”
“Any time now, Edwin!”
With a final word, Mary’s ghostly form glowed blue then settled. There on the floor sat a sobbing woman dressed in sixties traveling ware. The three of you panted in relief. Edwin helped you to your feet and turned to Charles.
“You okay?”
Charles nodded, picked up his backpack, and tucked his iron knife away. “Aces, but we should get out of here. Now that she’s free, Death’ll come.”
--- CASE CLOSED ---
It hadn’t ended the way you expected, sure, but the case was still closed. The client had turned out to be a no-good murderer but you’d freed his late wife. Plus, you got paid before the case. Edwin spent the rest of the night reshelving his books. Charles smiled softly at him occasionally and busied himself with filing away the case.
You leaned against the wall, just watching them. Sometimes, you couldn’t help but wonder what your afterlife would be like if you’d stayed in the Dreaming. But times like this made you want to hide away from Death forever.
That wonderful fluttering feeling returned. An easy smile fell on your lips. And after a moment of relishing in the saccharine feeling, you gently reached to take the stack of books from Edwin’s arms. “Let me help?”
He hummed pleasantly and shifted them into your arms. “Thank you.”
--- 2022 ---
Twenty-something years later, your case was on indefinite hiatus. The years passed pleasantly. The Dead Boy Detective Agency was a shining beacon in your postmortem life. Together, you closed probably hundreds of cases.
This one was simple, but with lots of detective work. A client came in, an older woman who just wanted to know who stole her mother’s engagement ring before she’d died. Her and her family lived on the other side of town – an hour away by the tube. Of course, that meant Edwin insisted on you practicing mirror travel on your way back. To get cases done faster, he claimed. Charles smirked at him knowingly when he’d said that and you couldn’t help but laugh under your breath too.
Which led you here, in the client’s bedroom, staring at the unreflective mirror. Edwin stood uncharacteristically close behind you. His proximity made your metaphorical heart race. He gently placed your hand on the mirror. It rippled under your touch.
“Focus on the office.” He whispered close to your ear. “You need to remain focused on where you want to go. Think of the mirror as a doorway.” You took a deep breath and did as he said. Desperately not focusing on his nearness and trust, on this need to just… touch him. You did your best to focus on the office. “Now, step through.”
You didn’t end up in the office. It was a back alley with a mirror leaning against a garbage bin. Whimpering came from a bit further in. Followed by a blue light. Dread grasped your throat. No…
“Well?” Edwin asked, poking his head out.
You quickly turned. Not him. “Death is here. Go!” You whispered, pushing him back through.
A voice stopped you from following. You couldn’t lead her back to them. Not them. Anyone but them. “Hello, Y/N.”
You turned around slowly this time. “Hello, Death. Are you finally here to take me?
She was beautiful and her face was kind. Her brown eyes sympathetic. “Do you want me to?”
You shook your head. No, that was the last thing you wanted. A man – his hair dark and wild, his eyes silver and galactic – dressed in all black walked up behind her. He felt familiar, in a similar way Death did. “Dream,” you whispered, almost reverently. He was here, somehow. Missing all those years you’d visited the Dreaming, watching as it decayed. “You’re here…”
“You know me?” His voice was smooth, reverberating deep in your chest even despite your lack of physical feeling.
“I spent years in your realm. It welcomed me when I had nowhere else.” You smiled wistfully.
Death glanced at Dream. “They can go back, if you’ll take them. They died there a long time ago.” She turned back to you. “Do you want that?”
This was it. The moment you’d wanted all those years ago. It was here. All you had to do was nod and take her hand and you could go back to the Dreaming with your friends and see its beauty like you were always meant to. But then you thought of Charles’ smile. His golden earring and Rude Boys jacket and red shirt. Edwin’s quiet concern and fancy suit. Your friends, the people you’d risked your existence for over and over again.
“No.”
Dream’s stare pierced your very being. “No? You dare deny your destiny? My realm?”
“I would have said yes, if you’d come 30 years ago. But then I made a home here, with a family of my own. And I’m happier than I ever was when I was alive or in the Dreaming.” You glanced at Death. Fear knotted in your gut. What if she took you anyway?
But she just nodded and smiled kindly. “Good, I’m glad you found your place. And when you’re ready, I will come.”
She turned to him. A moment later, he nodded. “You are always welcome in the Dreaming.”
A sigh left you involuntarily. “Thank you.”
The second you walked back through the mirror you were engulfed in their arms. Edwin – who didn’t like touch most days – held you tight in relief. Charles tugged you both close. If tears came, no one mentioned them. You sagged into their arms.
Then, Edwin slapped your arm. “Are you completely stupid?” He yelled, pulling away. His voice was high with residual anxiety.
“Easy, Edwin. They’re still here.” Charles smiled, squeezing you again before releasing you. “What happened, then? How’d you get away?”
A soft smile – saccharine and easy – graced your lips. “Death let me go.”
“What?” Edwin asked. Confusion all over his face. “That’s not possible.”
You grinned. Happiness swelled. “She said I found my place and when I was ready, she’d come for me.”
“Oh, that’s brills!” Charles laughed, picking you up in a crushing hug.
Edwin smiled – properly smiled, for possibly the first time since you’d met him. “Let’s go home then. This case can wait, what with Death around.”
Life hadn’t been kind to you. Neither had death. Then you’d met two incredible detectives. All your pain and suffering didn’t matter anymore, not really, when you had them to lean on. It still ached like a bruise on occasion. Yet you wouldn’t trade it for anything if it meant you ended up here. You’d gotten what you’d always wanted in the most unlikely of ways. You were tied to them forever now. Three souls bound together through pain and friendship. They were a safe place to rest your head when it all was too much. Just as you were for them. When Edwin had flashbacks of Hell or Charles got quiet and repressive. You don’t know what your future holds, but you knew that no matter what, you’d found where you belonged.
#cw abuse#edwin payne x reader#charles rowland x reader#edwin payne x you#charles rowland x you#dead boy detectives x reader#edwin payne#charles rowland#dead boy detectives#trans masc#non binary#platonic#romantic#queer#polyamorous#disabled#chronic illness#ghost#x reader#my fanfic
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cross your heart: part 1
Word Count: 4 k
Themes: angst, aged-up characters, suggestive themes (no smut), sebastian sallow x F!reader
Summary: why did sebastian sallow disappear after graduation? even after all the years you’ve spent trying to forget him, you realized that he never left your heart. would things be the same when you accidentally saw him again, now as your foe?
One
You took a deep breath.
Two
Three
Four
You exhaled.
Five
“Expelliarmus!” you shouted as you leapt from the makeshift barricade made out of wooden debris, casting a light blue spark directed to the figure across you. In a split second, as his wand flew from his grip – you casted “Confringo!”, waves of flame burst from your wand, burning the man. Taking another beather, you felt the world was at a standstill. Fog clouded your vision, the cold winter night breeze stung your reddened ears, your eyes darting between the hoard of hooded foes casting curses and hexes and your team of Auror officers. “Just a little bit more, my friend!” You snapped back to reality, focusing on Natty, who was chasing down a mongrel — you’d assumed was an Animagus.
Of course, there was no time to waste. Just a little bit of push and this battle will be finished. “Incendio!” A ring of fire spread around you, blazing the group of inferi that were closing in on you. You ran towards the biggest tent in the area, scanning the dimly-lit room. “Avada Kedavra!” You immediately dodged the green light, heart beating wildly against your chest. Godric’s Heart, just a second late and you would be dead. You swiftly striked “Diffindo!”, inflicting a wound on the man’s arm. “Depulso! Flipendo!” The wizard’s body flung all over the room, finally slammed down to the ground with a loud Thump! Blood spluttered from the man’s mouth, most likely from broken bones. Carefully inching closer, you stepped on the dark wizard’s black crooked wand, snapping it in half. You pointed your wand at his direction, as you leaned down to check on him, you noticed a hydra dragon with three heads tattooed on his forearm. Just as Officer Singer had warned you, the group of Dark magicians were a part of the recently formed group of Dark Arts users who would go around torturing and killing people, always leaving three slash marks on the victims’ chests. You pushed thee tip of your wand against the wizard’s neck, “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now.” He let out a sinister laugh, catching you off guard, he landed a punch right in your stomach, knocking the air out of your lungs as you stumbled down. “You can’t stop us all,” he winced, “kill one, and more will rise. Apparate!” In a split second, the dark wizard vanished into a black smoke, leaving you on the floor, clutching your stomach in pain.
Natty came rushing into the camp, seeing you writhing on the ground, she grabbed a Wiggenweld potion from her satchel and offered the bottle to you. “Are you alright?”
You swiftly gulped the green liquid in one shot, promptly reducing the pain you had been dealing. “Thank you, I’m alright now,” you sighed, looking around the now wreck of a room, “I’m sorry I couldn’t catch him. Ruth was right, he is one of those blasted Hydra members.”
Natty shook her head, “Don’t worry.” She picked up the dark wizard’s broken wand, securing the pieces in her bag. “I think this should suffice. We can take this to the Ministry for further investigation. Come on, now.” Natty casted Incendio, creating a small bonfire in the middle of the tent. “Let’s get out of here.” Hoisting you up, she threw a handful of Floo Powder from her pocket to the fire, “Ministry of Magic!”
You closed your eyes, letting the green flames envelope your body, transferring you to your destination.
It had been a week since you, Natty, and several other Auror officers ransacked a Hydra encampment. Officer Ruth Singer, now promoted as one of the Auror heads, ordered you to take a couple days off from raiding. To be quite honest, you knew she needed someone to do the long overdue paperwork. You didn’t mind, it was a nice break from putting your life on the line all the time.
Ever since the end of year sixth studying at Hogwarts, you had decided to take on the journey to become an Auror officer. After all, you did spend some time defeating bands of poachers, spiders, goblins, and even trolls. A small part of you wanted to leave your fighting days behind, as you stopped using Ancient Magic altogether after the passing of Professor Fig. You kept your last memory of the honorable man close to your heart – as you promised him that you shall make sure to be the keeper of Ancient Magic, so the powerful force wouldn’t end up in the wrong hands. There were two reasons why you eventually chose to be an Auror; firstly, on a one particular day, Professor Hecat sat you down, brewed you a delightful piping hot cup of tea, and convinced you that you have a massive potential to fight for the good of Wizardkind. She also added that it could be a good challenge to practice your duelling skills without the use of Anicent Magic.
The second reason is, the Slytherin boy that has successfully taken your heart as hostage. It was none other than the one-and-only Sebastian Sallow.
Where to begin with Mr. Sallow? It was an understatement to say that you had a history with him. The connection that you formed Sebastian, even after ten years or so, you couldn’t find anything that came close to the euphoric feelings that you had when you stare into his hazel eyes. Until now, you didn’t understand why it felt so natural to care about the boy. You genuinely tried to help him find a cure for his sick twin sister, even letting him dove deep into the Dark Arts – leaving you with a life lesson that such force shouldn’t be trifled with. You swore that he’d enchanted you, that you would do anything just to see a glint of smile on his face.
The sound of footsteps echoed through the school halls, lights from the floating candles barely cleared your path. It was late into the night after the graduation party. Everyone, even the paintings, were fast asleep, trunks packed as the students were ready to either further their education, or some planned to explore the vast world beyond Hogwarts. Pointing your wand to the clock, turning the gears, prompting the furniture to open its door. You hurried down the stairs to the Undercroft, the secret hideout that only Sebastian, Ominis, and you knew. However, Ominis was rarely seen in the croft after the incident with Solomon Sallow. Ties were severed that day. You tried convincing the Blonde boy, but it was for naught. Nothing you and Sebastian could do to turn back time and restore the trust. You tried your best to cheer Sebastian as well, greeting him with the best smile that you could muster, and offering your shoulder to cry on whenever dark thoughts clouded his mind. Sebastian still had an interest in duelling, thus you made a pact with him that you both would take the N.E.W.Ts together and join the Auror office. The last years in school were spent taking advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts and Potion classes together.
You well knew that your feelings had blossomed into something more. You couldn’t finish the day without thinking about Sebastian. Often times he would visit you in your dreams, holding him, touching him, wondering how his lips tasted like. You were no coward. Despite the so-called etiquette of being a proper lady that had been instilled in you, you determined to at least confessed your feelings to your closest friend before you leave the school.
There he was, standing in front of the triptych, adorned in the green and black Slytherin coat. You’d always thought the color green suited him the most. “This is it”, you thought, taking long strides to the boy. He turned around, flashing a faint smile. Before he could utter a single word, you grasped his tie, pulling him down, and crashing your lips against his. You could feel his body stiffen, probably surprised at your sudden brazen act. It was almost taboo for women to make the first move. It didn’t take long for Sebastian to reciprocate, cupping your face. You felt like your body was weightless, as if you were on the back of Highwing again. Yet at the same time, your body burned hotter than fire.
Few words were exchanged that night. You spend the dark hours wrapped in each other’s arms, you swore you fell asleep smiling, imagining your future together with him.
Morning came, and to your devastation, you were left alone with your heart in pieces and a note etched in a parchment paper.
“I’m sorry. -S.S”
That was the last time you saw Sebastian Sallow.
A knock against the door to your office took you out from your nostalgic thoughts. “Natty!” you exclaimed, jumping out of your desk to hug your friend. Natty was your rock, she was there when you spent your days wallowing the lost of your love. With perseverance, she pulled you out from your misery and became your companion in your studies in becoming an Auror. “Ruth is expecting you in her office. And by the way, looks like you received another letter of marriage proposal.” Natty added, flapping the envelope in front of your face. You sighed, taking the piece of paper and threw it in the bin, alongside several other unopened proposal letters.
“When do you think they stop sending us proposals? I don’t even know them!” you huffed.
Your best friend laughed, patting your back, “I think some of them have started calling you a spinster.”
You rolled your eyes, “They can say whatever they want, Natty, I don’t care.” You truly don’t. You tried opening your heart for another men to fill, yet your heart still yearned for the same Slytherin boy that you loved years ago. You found zero reason to shack up with someone that you don’t love. “Alright then, best be on my way to see Ruth.”
The Daily Prophet paper clippings, stacks of wanted posters, and report papers decorated Officer Ruth Singer’s desk. Her office was pretty small for an officer in her calibre, but she has always been more keen in patrolling out than being stuck in her desk. You closed the door behind you. “Hello Ruth, anything I can do for you?”
“Ah!” the head Auror set her tea down, “just the person I was looking for. I trust you’ve recovered well?”
“Yes ma’am.” You smiled, “I’m ready for whatever task you have in mind.”
“Good. I have a case that might piqued your interest.” The brunette-haired woman set down a map in front of you, pointing to a spot down around the Clagmar Coast area. “I have just received a tip that there were sightings of dark wizards here. Unfortunately, I had assigned our other officers to other cases, and I supposed you can investigate this?”
“Are they a part of Hydra, ma’am?”
Officer Ruth shrugged, “They most likely are. Please, be careful. Don’t engage if there are a lot of them. Just report back to me.”
You gave the woman a salute and went back to pack the essentials – an array of potions and plants were hastily dumped into your bottomless satchel. The longer you dilly dally, more possibility for the target to move.
It has been a while since you went to the gloomy coast. You were never a fan of the place. It was cold, muddy, filled with Dugbogs and Poachers to top it off. Being on your broom wasn’t so bad though, feeling the fresh ocean breeze blowing against you. You flew quite close to the grounds, scanning the area. You thought you went around twice, feeling a bit disappointed that you might have just missed the suspects.
That was until you heard a blood curling scream. You quickly titled your broom downwards, flying faster to the source. Putting your broom away, you casted a Disillusionment spell, rendering you invincible. You hid behind a huge tree, peeking to see the commotion. To your horror, you saw a man, one of the men you saw on the wanted posters on Officer Ruth’s desk, hands tied behind his back, writhing in pain on the ground. “Please, please, please,” he coarsely cried, “make it stop… or, just kill me!”
“Ya better shut yer’ trap or I will keep you for days!” one of the hooded wizard shouted, before pointing his wand to the pleading man. “Crucio!”
You cringed as you heard the man pained cries, his limbs were twisted in directions that you thought weren’t humanely possible. “Crucio!” Another curse hurled from a woman, also covered in dark hooded robe. The tortured man was reduced to tense muscles and breathless grunts. His back arched as if his body was snapped in half. You could see a shadow of the third figure looming over.
Scanning the area once more, you deducted that there were only three of them. Confident that you were able to take them on, you inched closer to the group, still under the Disillusionment charm. “Petrificus Totalus!” you shouted, binding one of the dark wizard closest to you. As he was paralyzed, you attacked him with a series of casts, pushing the man away from the victim. The woman laughed maniacally as she scream incoherently, calling a hoard of inferi to attack you. You used a combination of Confringo and Incendio to burn the living corpses. Trying to keep track of the three opponents was harder than you thought, especially with the inferi spawning all over the place. “Levioso! Accio!” you were able to flung the man, hurting him with basic casts while he was mid-air, he finally dropped down defeated. After burning through the corpses, you were able to find the hooded woman running away from you. You chased after her, as you closed in, you waved your wand, transfiguring the woman into a barrel. Without any hesitation, you quickly destroyed the item.
Wait, you thought to yourself, there was one more. While you tried to catch your breath, your eyes frantically darting to every corner of your peripherals, yet you couldn’t find the third figure.
One
You took a deep breath.
Two
Three-
Just before the count of four, you felt a cold blunt item poking against your neck, hitching your breath. Your felt your body tensed, how could you miss this? Is this the end? Your thoughts were all over the place. And then it hit you, the smell of ashes, sandalwood, and a tinge of musk – the scent that was etched in your heart. The scent of the man that slipped away from your arms long time ago. Your visions were blurry, knees weak as you felt the man’s figure pressed against your back. “Petrificus Totalus.” You heard him whisper, before everything went dark.
Sobs and cries filled your ears as you stood in front of a grave at Feldcroft. “Anne Sallow, loved and remembered forever.” Written on the stone, simply decorated with a small angel statue on the top. You placed the white Lily flower on top of the soil, before finding your way back between the small crowd. Everybody tried their best to find a cure, but Solomon was right, the curse was stuck with the poor girl forever, slowly rotting her body away. But she passed being cared by her friends, especially Ominis, who never left her side after graduating from Hogwarts. To everyone’s surprise, her own twin brother was not there. It felt like the person who fought for her the most has given up. Deep down, you had hoped that you were able to see him again this time, finding the answer why he left. You were disappointed once again, forced to bury your feelings again.
The sound of waves crashing greeted you as you woke up from the deep slumber, feeling the soft blanket wrapped around your body. Slowly, your eyes fluttered open and gained focus, taking particular interest to the full moon peeking through the window. Your body shot up, finally conscious enough to realize that you were in an unfamiliar room – old dusty wooden floor illuminated by the crackling fireplace; maps, newspaper clippings and posters pasted on the wall, just above a desk filled with stacks of books. Your eyes trailed down, finding empty bottles of what you assumed were muggle-made alcoholic beverages.
“Ah, you’re awake.” A calm voice broke your trance. Just as you thought, Sebastian Sallow stood in front of you. Gone was the schoolboy you kept in your memories all this time, replaced by a tall, brooding man towering over you. He kept his hair in a similar style, his gaze significantly darkened, making you wonder about the things that he had experienced throughout the years. You find solace seeing the same tiny freckles adorned his face, wait, did he always have that scar on the right side of his jaw? Your eyes trailed down to his left forearm, to your disappointment, there was the hydra dragon tattoo wrapped around his arm, just underneath the rolled sleeve of his shirt.
Immediately, waves of emotions crashed onto you like a tsunami – anger, relieve, frustration, yearning, all mixed up in your head. You couldn’t even stop the tears that were dripping down, wetting the blanket. Sebastian gently sat down on the bed, he reached for your hand, yet you pulled back. “I thought you died,” you croaked between sobs, “I-I had to forget about you.” You heard him sigh, bringing a flask to his lips, taking a swing from it. “Why, Sebastian? Was I meant nothing to you? What we had… was that even real?”
He kept his silence, the only thing that was audible was the sound of your hiccups and logs cracking from the fireplace. After you calmed down a bit, he offered you the flask, you gave him a suspecting look. “Relax,” Sebastian sighed again, “if I wanted to kill you, I’ve already done that when you were unconscious.”
You huffed, taking the container and downed the liquid inside. It was bitter, and the alcohol was strong enough to make you wince. “It was an old wine I got from my trip to Italy.” Sebastian explained, “helps with the headache after a binding spell.”
“Italy?” You asked. He was right, the wine did calm you down – physically and emotionally. You were too tired to fight him anyways, all you wanted to do was to find out the truth.
“I had to go away and clear my head-“
“Without telling me? Without sending a single owl? Don’t you know how worried I was?” you riled up again, now finding the strength to get up from the bed.
Sebastian stood again, now you could see how he was significantly taller than you. He crossed his arms, “Go on.”
You scoffed loudly, “Go on? I have much to say to you, Sallow. I spent years trying to get us to where we were before the incident… but you just ran away! Like a coward!”
“A coward?” He shook his head, a bitter grin plastered across his face, “Do you even try to listen to yourself? Have you ever, during those years, thought about what I was dealing with? Yes, I was eternally thankful that you didn’t send me to the Ministry, but have you ever thought about what it felt like to see the people closest to me deathly scared of me?”
“I saw how you and Ominis grimaced whenever I held my wand. I knew what you both thought, you are scared that I would use the Dark Arts again. You said you trusted me, but I know we were never be able to go back to where it was before.”
Tears welled up in your eyes again as you turned away from him. He was right, you had clinged on to the hope that your things would be the same again because of your selfish desire to have Sebastian. “You didn’t even come to your sister’s funeral.” You whispered.
“She never said that she wanted to see me again. The least I can do is to honor her wish.” He said coldly, taking another sip of the wine.
“Then why did you join…” you turned to him, eyeing the tattoo on his arm, “that group? Is cutting us out from your life not enough?”
“I tried to stay away from the Dark Arts, I truly do. But… The potential that I felt… I still believe that there are more to it than just forbidden curses. And, don’t you see that we only inflict them on crime suspects? How is that different from what you Aurors do?”
You fell silent.
“Morality is a strange concept, is it not?” Sebastian scoffed. “Just like your special ability with Ancient Magic. The difference is that I chose to embrace it.”
You took the flask from his hand, taking a big swing, the whole ordeal took a toll on you. Walking closer to the desk, you glanced over the old Dark Art books – probably stolen from the restricted section years ago, several letters sprawled on the surface, and to your surprise, you pulled a tattered ribbon, stuck between stacks of journal.
It was very difficult to make sure you have all your belongings packed in your trunk when tears wouldn’t stop streaming from your eyes, wetting the pile of crumpled clothes under you. On top of that, your hair was getting in the way of your sight. You searched for the ribbon that you’ve been wearing to tie your hair – a silk ribbon of your house color that Sebastian gifted you on your first birthday at Hogwarts. You couldn’t find it anywhere, you’d thought you most likely dropped the item at the Undercroft. Never mind then, maybe it’s better that way, easier for you to forget Sebastian.
Deep in your personal thoughts, you didn’t even realize the footsteps slowly closing in on you. His warm breath caressed your nape, sending quivers down your spine, feeling goosebumps all over your body. Both excitement and fear took over you – even after all this time, there were some nights that you would find your fingers inside your undergarments, imagining Sebastian’s deep brown eyes on top of you. Carefully, he ran his fingers through your long hair, cascading down to your back. He grasped a strand of hair, bringing it against his lips, “You kept your hair long… Just the way I like it.” You hated to admit the truth, but you have been growing your hair ever since Sebastian made a remark that he ‘thinks long haired girls are very attractive’.
Gathering the last bits of courage you have, you turned around to face the imposing figure behind you. God, you were utterly bewitched by him. Your hands found their rest on the edge of the desk, taking a mental note that you were as cornered as lamb beneath its prey. Sebastian dared to get closer, his leg nestled between yours, calloused hands laid on top of yours, interlacing your fingers with his. In the corner of your eye, you were drawn to focus on a small tattoo just below his ear. It was an initial. Your initials, eternally inked on his freckled skin. “Sebastian,” you gently whispered, “all this time?”
“Always.”
The world stopped moving as he laid his lips against yours.
One
You breathed in. Ashes. Sandalwood. Musk.
Two
Three
Four
Sebastian Sallow tasted the same as he did years ago.
A/N: Thank you thank you thank you so much for reading my works! I’ve been thinking about this story for days now. I never thought that I would be writing again, but the love I’ve received from the HL community encouraged me to share my stories. Hope you enjoyed this one. I’m thinking to do a second part with mature themes. Please let me know your thoughts! <3
#sebastian sallow#sebastian sallow x reader#sebastian sallow x f!reader#sebastian sallow fanfic#hogwarts legacy#hogwarts legacy fanfic#natsai onai#ominis gaunt#sebastian#harry potter#wizarding world#hhhhhh i hope you all like this#poured my heart and soul into this#love yous
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𝓢𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝟎𝟐 : 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫
Chapter 03 of The five stages of grief
Wanda maximoff x fem!reader
Tags / Warnings : no smut, death, major character death
Word count : 2k
Summary : When you die you learn that grief is not only for the living and that there is a certain stage to go through before you really pass to the other side. A fiction based on the 5 stages of grief, a chapter will correspond to a stage. There will be 6 chapters, the first one is reserved for the introduction of this fiction.
Once the reality of the situation is no longer in question, the anger phase begins. The person may feel angry or unjust towards themselves or others, such as the health care team.
If someone you know has recently experienced a bereavement, it is important to be aware of this phase so that you do not become surprised or personally feel a change in the person's violent behavior.
When denial is no longer possible, it is replaced by feelings of anger, rage and resentment
_______________________
After your funeral it was Yelena who took Wanda back to the apartment where until recently you both lived.
You were a very close group of friends and Yelena had always been the youngest; in fact Natasha, you, Wanda and Pietro were the same age while Vision was two years older and Yelena two years younger. However, this was never a problem and you often forgot about the age difference between you; now there were only two of you left.
Pietro had been the first to leave after his car accident, then it was Vision because of a birth disease, then Natasha because of the shooting that had taken place during your first year of university; and now it was you because of this disease...
Yelena stayed by Wanda's side all night not wanting to leave her alone and not wanting to be alone herself; as for you you sat waist deep at the end of the bed looking at the two of them knowing that never again would the six of you find yourselves in a bed having a pillow fight or telling all the gossip from your different schools.
You started to cry thinking about all the times you had spent with your friends and your girlfriend, you were angry at yourself for not listening to Wanda, maybe if you had gone to the hospital sooner you could have survived, maybe if the doctors had operated sooner you would still be in that bed between the two women who were now mourning your loss.
You watched Wanda slip her head into Yelena's arms, crying and asking why this had to happen to you.
Yelena stayed two days with Wanda before having to go back home to take some business, when arriving at their home the Russian received a message from her friend to tell her that she needed to be a little what Yelena to understand very well agreeing without taking offense to give her as much time as it takes for Wanda to feel better.
You were posed on the bed at the sides of your girlfriend when this one made you startle by rising abruptly. The redhead sent every frame she had turned upside down shattering them against the wall leaving pieces of glass all over the floor; she turned over your closet throwing the clothes on the floor screaming all the grief that consumed her. You wanted to get up and hug her but it was all a waste of time knowing that she wouldn't even feel your touch...
"Why the fuck you?! Why didn't you consult before! I told you so! You were always so stubborn and now you'll never hear me yell at you again because you're fucking dead!"
You watched her collapse to the floor seeking comfort in the smell your clothes possessed as she continued to cry and scream about how much she hated you for not listening to her.
"I'm sorry wands, I should have listened to you, I'm so sorry..."
"And those asshole doctors who couldn't operate on you when we begged them to from day one! Why couldn't they do their fucking job and mind their own business about what was good for you and what wasn't! Incompetents and now I'm all alone here because no one made the right choices!" she screamed hoarsely as she clutched one of your shirts between her fingers. "And you know who I'm the angriest at?" she asked blankly as if she were talking to you not knowing that you were right next to her seeing and hearing everything she did or said
"No wands please don't say that" you begged knowing already her next words
"I blame myself the most y/n, I should have forced you to go, I should have dragged you there myself! I wanted to do it and I didn't because I knew you'd be mad at me for doing it but at least you'd still be alive! it's my fault, everything is my fault..."
"Nothing is your fault Wands please, everything is my fault not yours; Please hate me, hate the doctors, hate the whole world but don't blame yourself you did everything you could you couldn't have done anything more" you begged hoping that somewhere your voice would be heard no matter what but nothing happened and you remained kneeling in front of Wanda placing your hands on hers knowing full well that neither you nor she could feel that contact even though that's all you both needed at that moment.
When you saw that Wanda's hands were bleeding because of the bits of glass that had slipped into the shirt she was currently clutching you started to panic because the redhead didn't seem to have noticed but nothing you could do seemed to alert her. You screamed, you tried to shake her, to slap her, to throw something at her to make her react but nothing did. Her hands continued to bleed without her reacting.
You sighed with relief when you heard the front door slammed, it was Yelena who had returned just wanting to make sure that the redhead did not need anything because she did not respond to her texts. The Russian immediately noticed the red that flowed on the fabric while Wanda cursed herself internally for everything that had happened to you. Quickly the blonde pulled Wanda into the bathroom to remove the glass embedded in her hands and to disinfect and bandage her wounds.
The Russian also managed her anger but always differently, she expelled everything by the sport but understanding that it would not help Wanda she decided to try something else. The redhead needed to let off steam and break everything and this was noticed in the state of your room so the blonde decided to take her to a break room so she could let off steam without ever getting hurt.
You watched as Wanda smashed the many plates, and anything else she could find to destroy, but it never seemed to satisfy her. You knew that the anger phase wasn't going to go over so easily, but seeing that Yelena supported her was something that reassured you because you knew that she would never let her friend blame herself for your death like you did when you felt guilty for not being able to save Natasha.
You watched Wanda collapse once again as the adrenaline from her tantrum evaporated from her body. You wanted to be the one to support her, you wanted to have your arms around her waist like Yelena was doing now and you hated yourself for not being able to do it.
Not wanting to leave her alone again, Yelena decided to take her home to her parents hoping that seeing people she was familiar with would help her keep her head above water. So despite her protests Wanda found herself sitting with the Russian's parents, Melina didn't force her guest to eat when she refused but you were happy that she managed to get her to eat a little bit seeing how Wanda's cheeks were starting to get deeper in the last two weeks.
The next night you saw Wanda sitting on the window sill, holding back from shouting what was in her heart so as not to wake up Yelena's parents, finding it nice of them to welcome her without question, knowing full well what she was going through.
Melina dressed the redhead's wounds with all the tenderness of a mother and she combed her hair as she did when you were little. It often happened that when you came to play in this house the Russian girl brushed your hair in turn, always fighting to know who would go first.
Alexei being always very... him, simply went out on the porch where Wanda was sitting and asked her if she wanted some vodka, saying that it was strong enough to make her fall asleep on the spot, then he told her some jokes and some memories that made the youngest one laugh and sometimes you could see a tender smile on his lips through his tense features.
Yelena asked for her to continue to help the redhead to release its anger by pushing her to make boxing, by taking it in the break room and she had even managed to get her into running.
You had always been grateful to them for treating you as if your group of friends had always been their children, but seeing them take care of your only love in such a way reassured you that she was not helping alone.
Your parents took her every Sunday to visit your grave, your mother offered to do it on Saturday, but Wanda refused since that was always the day you two went out. The first few weeks, the redhead screamed at you about how stupid you were for not listening to her and how much she hated the hospital for not taking care of her brother or you. She screamed at you about how painful it was to love you so much when she wanted to hate you for not listening to her. As the weeks went by, the yelling diminished and you chalked it up to the fact that your girlfriend had managed to find other ways to get rid of her anger.
Wanda began to turn her anger towards others, she began to hate the world for what had happened to you but deep down you knew that she was really mad at her and you hoped that the guilt would leave her quickly as you did not want her to suffer as you had after the death of your best friend.
She was supposed to blame you for not doing what was necessary in time, not her. You began to hate yourself when you saw how Wanda was getting angry at everyone, it was a complicated phase for her and when she had gone through each of her grieves it was you she was getting angry at and you let her do it knowing she needed it. Despite all the harsh and sharp words she had spoken to you, you knew that none of them were really meant for you. After each outburst the redhead would start crying and sob in your arms apologizing.
"I'm sorry y/n I don't know what's happening to me you have nothing to do with it and yet you're the one I yell at all the time, I hold you responsible for something you're not please don't leave me I'll get better I promise"
"I know Wands, I could never blame you especially with what you're going through, we're all affected but you more so let it go if that's what you need to feel better" you would reassure her every time this happened. You always seemed to find the right words because you could feel her muscles relax under her skin.
Only this time you couldn't be there for her, and it was all your fault; despite what the doctors said, there was a part of you that refused to believe that your fate was sealed. You refused to believe that if you had been in the hospital when Wanda asked you to be, this would have happened anyway.
You refused to believe that the doctors couldn't have operated on you before when you begged them to attempt the surgery but they refused and condemned you without giving you a chance to survive.
Once Wanda had arrived at your grave with a bottle of vodka that Alexei had given her and she had poured two shots, one for her and one for you which made her laugh saying that you couldn't drink it anyway but she had this habit of always taking two drinks or putting your plate on the table not being able to resign herself to not doing it.
The more the anger in her mind and body diminished, the more she hoped that one day you would walk through the door of your apartment and sit down at the table with her and tell her about your day; you would then go back to the normal flow of your life as if this had never happened. It was when she realized it was never going to happen that she would go back to running for longer than usual so she wouldn't take out her anger on the people who were trying to help and support her as she had in the beginning.
The more you saw her anger disappear, the more yours seemed to fly away at the same time as if the steps Wanda was taking through her grief for you, were helping you to do yours.
#natasha romanoff x fem!reader#wanda mcu#wanda maximov#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x y/n#yelena belova#wanda maximoff x reader#marvel women#natasha x you#grief#stages of grief#death#tw death
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My Dear General: Chapter 6 - Brighter Shines the Sun After a Storm [End]
Genre: Angst ending in fluff
Word count: 1k
Warnings: Self-hatred
Authors Note: This is the end of My Dear General. I hope you enjoyed it! I wanted this to be fluffy, but angst brain be doing angst brain things. Thanks for being along on this ride.
Remember that your content consumption is on you
Tags: @holdmytesseract @sarahscribbles @simplyholl @lokisgoodgirl @ladyofthestayingpower @otome-and-fanfiction @buttercupcookies-blog @lokiprompt
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5
It’s been two years since the Azailian Kingdom came under new management. Aidous was showing himself to be an excellent king alongside his trusted advisor - the schoolteacher that used to educate him and Astrid when they were young. Astrid and Loki remained back for two weeks to assist in burying the dead and rebuilding the city while the rest of the army, headed by Erik, returned to the Thovur to recover before phase 2 took effect. Astrid showed Loki around her old Kingdom, introducing him to people from her past who, unlike her father, cared for her.
Loki and Astrid, upon their return, immediately staged a coup to overthrow Thor. He stood no chance and was dead by that evening. His death ushered in a new era for the Tolan Empire. Erik was the army general. Loki had been rightfully crowned Emporer, and the royal officials presented him with woman after woman to choose who would become his bride. Every woman was declined unceremoniously. There was only one woman Loki wanted at his side - Astrid.
Having been relocated to the palace per Loki’s request, Astrid spent most of her time in the palace gardens amongst the flora and fauna native to Thovur. Her favourite thing in the entire garden was the moss. When questioned about it, Astrid had no explanation as to why the moss was her favourite; it just was. That was where Loki found her, lying amongst the flowers, watching as the clouds rolled by.
He leans against the doorframe, quietly admiring her, wearing nothing but the finest linens the kingdom offered. He loved the way the different shades of green looked on her. She sat up, her back to him; that was when he saw all the flowers poking out of her braids - the orphans must have had a hand in that. When she wasn’t in the gardens, she was assisting in teaching the orphans so they had a better shot at life when they aged out - it was her pride and joy.
Loki clears his throat, catching her attention after silently admiring her for 10 minutes. She smiles, seeing him standing there. “Hello, your majesty.” She smiles, bowing her head in respect. Ever since Loki was crowned Emperor, even after she got moved into the palace, she always bowed - he was the ruler of the kingdom; she was a mere soldier.
“My dove, how often have I told you you do not need to bow? We are equals here, just as we were equals on the battlefield. You yourself are royalty; it is I that should be bowing to you.” Loki spoke, walking towards her and placing his hands on her hips. “Why do you insist on making yourself small? Why do you insist on making yourself less important in my life now? Talk to me, dove. Have I not been tending to your needs?”
Astrid sighs, resting her forehead against his. “How did the bride showing go? Have you picked who is to become the empire’s new Empress?” She questions, dodging his question. “I saw the women being walked in; they were gorgeous. I’m sure one of them would make a suitable bride for you.”
“Astrid, my dove.” Loki starts, cupping her cheeks with his hand. “There is only one person in the entire empire I wish to be my bride. It is a woman I have spent many days and nights in bed with, who has stood beside me in loss and victory—a woman who cannot or will not see her value in my life. Astrid, the only woman I want by my side for years to come is you. I love you, Astrid; I have for years. I don’t know if you feel the same, and it has crossed my mind that telling you my feelings might cause you to withdraw from me. I want you, Astrid, only you. Please, Astrid, tell me if I am not meeting your needs.”
Astrid sighed, pulling away from him. She was so conflicted about her feelings - on the one hand, he had treated her with so much love and kindness that she had never felt before, but on the other hand, she felt as though she was only a soldier to him, not anything more.
“I… Loki. You have been the perfect lover, but should it not be time to move on to something more substantial than what we had? Loki, you deserve so much more than me; I understand my place. My desperate love for you does not matter when it comes to someone who will help keep your lineage alive. I release you from my love, Emperor; go make your decision for the greater good of the empire.”
Instead of walking away as she expected, Loki strides over to her, grasping her wrist and pulling her into an earth-shattering kiss. She was stunned for a second before she wrapped her arms around his neck, melting into his kiss. His hands snake around her waist, pulling her impossibly close to him. He has wanted to do this for years but never had the guts to. Her confession, as brief as it was, was enough to set his heart alight and all inhibitions to melt away. He finally knew his feelings were mutual.
After what feels like an eternity, Loki breaks the kiss before fishing for a box beneath his robes. “Astrid, will you become the empress of the Tolan Empire and rule by my side for as long as I shall rule?” He opens the box, showing a beautiful ring. Nowhere in the known empire could produce something as stunning as was in front of her, but that did not matter.
“Yes!”
Loki places the ring on her finger before taking her hand and walking her back through the palace into the throneroom, where he announces that the advisors have been waiting to hear; Astrid at his side.
“I have made my decision. All rise and bear witness to the new Empress of the Tolan Empire!”
#loki of asgard#loki laufeyson#mcu loki#loki fanfiction#loki fanfic#loki#loki marvel#loki god of mischief#my dear general#loki x astrid
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the warmth of the future || three
Summary: It’s been two years since you fell in love with Bucky Barnes, and the holidays are just around the corner. With even more love, more friends, and more family in attendance, you and Bucky fully intend to enjoy these days with as little drama as possible. But that’s not always the case with a relationship like yours, is it?
Pairing: DBF James “Bucky” Barnes x (Fem) Reader
Based on the Song: ‘Willow’ by Taylor Swift
Warnings: strong language; angst; money talk; mention of dead parents; age difference; accidental voyeurism; unprotected sex
Word Count: 7,130+
Author’s Note: The finale! We’ve come to yet another end for these characters! Love them with all my heart, and I’m so happy (as always) to share them with you. xxMoni
~
The firefighters had the fire controlled within thirty minutes of the faulty switch striking a flame. Or rather, they controlled the remaining flames. Apparently the fire started around one in the morning when the fundraiser was still going strong and most of the townspeople were either at the bar or asleep. Someone finally called 911 around twenty minutes later, but by then the fire had consumed every item in the store. And since plant life burns with villainous purpose, the walls didn’t stand much of a chance.
All that remained now was the black outline of the structure, chipped and broken wood sticking in all directions. The couches were charred, as was the register and back office. Clint and Steve carried the burnt safe out into the street so they could load it into Pietro’s truck. Your dad already volunteered to store it in the garage.
It was heartbreaking to see so many flowers burned. Some lifeless, some gone. Bucky had run back home to bring you a heavier jacket and some shoes as he knew you would want to help your friends salvage what they could. Once he saw that you were bundled up and no longer at risk for frostbite, he got to work.
Hours of cleaning, sweeping, calling contractors and customers.
Customers.
Pietro had released a garbled, angry yell when Wanda mentioned the Christmas Eve and Christmas orders. He rubbed at his temples, then his chest, muttering something along the lines of, We needed that money.
Wanda and Pietro are somewhat paralyzed—Clint at least tried to sprinkle in some jokes here and there—and it’s killing you.
The holidays were always festive. Nothing bad was supposed to happen during the holidays. Because when they do, they’re never the same.
“All the money we raised last night for the roof—I’ll put it toward the store.” You were now all seated at the barstools and booths in Kate’s bar as she made that drastic declaration. She passed Sam a plate of fried eggs and bacon that she had cooked upstairs twenty minutes before, ignoring the way everyone immediately rejected her idea.
“Kate, you spent all that time organizing that event. You earned the money,” you say, stealing a piece of bacon yourself. The shock from the morning finally wore off long enough for you to put some food into your stomach. Bucky adjusts you on his lap as he adds, “You have a business too, Kate. You need to keep it up and running.”
Kate rolls her eyes. “That bucket is holding up just fine.” She points at the bucket near the tiny stage, nearly filled with water.
Wanda sighs, rubbing the tension from her shoulder as her other hand nestles a mug of coffee to her chest. “They’re right, Kate. Besides, I’ve been too lenient on our annual inspections. We were supposed to have a check-up two months ago. I kept pushing it back.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Pietro orders. “I use the same calendar as you do.”
At that moment, everyone shares a collective sigh. This was bad. Very bad. That shop was Wanda and Pietro’s only source of income. Clint’s, too. It was their parent’s memory.
“What are we going to do?” Wanda whimpers, resting her forehead against Sam’s shoulder. Everyone else shares a look, a look that conveys no answers and no ideas.
After talking logistics and finishing breakfast, everyone begins filing out to get back to work. Sam, Steve, Bucky, and your dad decided they would stay behind, driving anything that wasn’t too badly burned back to the house. Kate offered to bring everyone water and lunch. Clint, Wanda, and Pietro hopped into Pietro’s truck immediately, their list full and priorities straight. Most of their day would be spent out of town, away from the wreckage. You figure that’s convenient—they probably don’t want to stare at what they lost.
Bucky meets you at the bar entrance, kissing your cheek briefly before following Steve.
“Bucky?” He turns, hands in his pockets. “I didn’t get you a present yet.”
His mouth twitches, and something beautiful gleams in his eyes. “You got the money for it, though. Don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re gonna make sure their flower orders get out one way or another, aren’t you?”
The fact that he knows you so well has you believing in the concept of soulmates. “Yeah.”
He smiles, at you and at nothing. “You’ve already given me your heart. I would be honored if you used it for this.”
Then he turns, chuckling softly to himself. Rubbing at his chest—rubbing at something in his coat pocket.
~
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but when I agreed to a holiday vacay in a town that resembled the set of Gilmore Girls, I didn’t expect to get the ‘Oh, no! Our beloved inn burned down and now I’m unemployed’ storyline.”
Peter’s admission, no matter how inappropriate, evokes a short burst of laughter from your chest. Peter Parker had that ability—make the best out of the worst.
The two of you were driving to the next town over, aiming to cross out the biggest item on the list: find a flower shop that would fulfill the orders. It made a good impression on the customers and could make them donate loads of cash to rebuilding the shop. It was worth it to try.
“I only meant to introduce you to my family and attend the Christmas party. Trust me, this wasn’t planned.”
“You think throwing the party is still a good idea? What if they don’t want to celebrate during a time like this?”
You pull into the parking lot, parking in front of a gothic-style flower shop whose display sign read, Flowers For The Living. “Probably no party. And I think Wanda and Pietro realize they’re getting help whether they like it or not, so they’ll be okay.”
Peter hums, and gets out of the car with you. The shop is smaller, with vintage furniture and flowers ranging from all colors, especially the darker shades. It was a nice contrast to the stereotype that all flower shops had to be these lively, colorful places. There are no holiday decorations, either.
“Hello?” you call out, running your finger along the leaves of black roses.
A tall woman enters from the back office, dusting her pants of lint. She chews the final bites of her food as she answers, “Yes, yes! I’m here, I’m here.”
Peter blinks, his mouth forming a tiny ‘O’ as he takes her in. Quite obviously, you might add.
“Uh, I’m MJ. Who are you?”
When you realize Peter’s mouth isn’t actually going to be forming words anytime soon, you let out the whole spiel. How the only flower shop in your town burned down, how orders needed to start shipping today, how the owners are family and this was the least you could do for them. The woman, MJ, listens. And all the while a small smile creeps onto her face, noticing that your explanation is turning into rambling.
“So, yeah. We’d be honored to buy some flowers from you.”
MJ tilts her head up, biting her bottom lip. “You’re going to buy my flowers and market them as your own?”
Fuck. Okay, backtrack.
But it’s Peter who snaps out of whatever trance he was in, coming up with, “Actually, with your permission, we were hoping that we could attach small notes to every order. Custom-made. Your stamp, your name, and a message from us thanking you for saving the day. It would show that Wanda and Pietro still cared enough to get the orders in and sent out, and you’d get free publicity.”
That right there. That’s why he’s the best assistant.
MJ smirks, fingering the massive bouquet beside the register. She makes a show of thinking about her answer, ignoring the fumbling of your thumbs and Peter’s giant grin.
“When I first set up this shop,” she starts, walking around the register. You don’t miss the way Peter studies her further. You're tempted to hit him upside the head. “I knew jackshit about business. All I knew was that I wanted to have an alternative flower shop where people could buy one-of-a-kind bouquets. Do you have any idea what my first act as a new business owner was?”
Both you and Peter shake your head.
“I bought more inventory before even making a sale.”
Ooof.
“It was Wanda Maximoff who ventured to this part of town, looking for advice on how to darken certain flowers. Where to order them, how to arrange them. I had been open for a week and was already in debt. I gave her all my tips, and she came in the next day with her hair in a scarf, a broom, and a whole itinerary.”
“She did?”
MJ nods, smiling to herself as she remembers the memory. “Wouldn’t take no as an answer. Said her father hammered the rules of business into her head by age twelve and that she would do the same for me. I don’t speak to my parents and I have no siblings, so…”
MJ pauses, then pulls out her notebook, turning to a blank page. “This is the first I’m hearing about the fire.” Sorrow flashes across her features. “So I’ll help her get back on two feet if it’s the last thing I do. Give me the order information. I’ve got a big job ahead of me.”
Wanda had never mentioned MJ, but she did talk about this town and the businesses in it. She often brought home food from family-run restaurants, antiques for her apartment—she just never mentioned making another friend.
Peter snaps his fingers multiple times, cheering as he says, “You got sticky tabs and highlighters?”
MJ lights up. “In the back! Hold on, hold on!”
As she skips back to the office to retrieve more supplies, you turn to Peter. “Match made in Heaven.”
Peter scoffs, shoving your shoulder with his. A blush creeps from the base of his neck to his cheeks. “Everybody likes office supplies. If you don’t, there’s something wrong with you.”
“Ah.”
You set the teasing aside for the next two hours, working with MJ on getting the orders fulfilled and loading them up in delivery trucks. By the end, you’ve made a new friend. And you bet Peter Parker will be tagging along on your family vacations every holiday season from now on.
~
“This is just shit luck, man.”
Everyone mumbles their agreement to Sam’s comment. They’re currently cleaning glass shards, rolling the shredded curtains, and piling picture frames.
“How long do you think it’ll take to rebuild?” Sam continues, broom in one hand and dustpan in the other.
Bucky sends him a half-hearted glare, wiping his face free of soot. “Considering it just burned down this morning, I’m gonna say a ton of time.”
“Five months, tops.”
Bucky’s eyes widen at your dad’s declaration. “You’re optimistic.”
Your dad shrugs, sweeping his designated corner. He carefully creates a pile of glass. “Those kids have some otherworldly determination. You remember how they picked up the mantle after their parents died?”
“We helped…” Steve grimaces.
“Nah, they ran that shop like their parents were watching. They did most of it.”
“Think they can do it again?” Sam pushes, curious. He bends down to sweep your dad’s glass pile.
“I know they can do it again. But the emotional toll might just hit harder than last.”
Steve clears his throat, raising his hand like a kid in the classroom. “Hey…Is the party tonight…”
“Cancelled? Most likely,” your dad answers.
Bucky sighs, “Always looked forward to your little shindigs.”
Then Steve says something that makes Bucky think he’s truly gone mad. “Hey…Why don’t we still have it?”
Your dad half-cackles, half-snorts. “Oh, for obvious reasons, Steven! God, you’re even more dense than Bumblebee claimed.” And even as he says it, it’s with love etched into each word.
Steve grumbles, “No, idiot! I mean—Why don’t we bring the decorations here? Make this into something…To tell those kids that we’re going to help them. And that we should celebrate the fact that we know they’ll be okay.”
To throw a party on the gravesite of their parent’s business…Steve was both dense and confident, Bucky concludes. “Think they’ll go for it?”
“Won’t know unless we try, right?”
Maybe it was a good idea. On a day as gloomy as this one, perhaps a little cheer is what was needed. And who knows? Having it in the center of town could bring a crowd desperate to donate.
“Gonna go drive all we’ve got in the truck back to the house,” your dad announces. “Meet me there in a few hours for the decorations, alright?” Everyone agrees, seemingly excited for the prospect of such a wild idea.
Bucky throws aside some random wood the same moment he catches sight of the one person he really doesn’t want to converse with. “Woah…What are you doing here?”
Quill strolls past the crumbling doorway, hands in his pockets and wearing an expression of shame. “I apologize for last night. I honestly didn’t know, and I thought there was something still between us. Like…some holiday fairytale.”
Bucky cringes, but gives him the benefit of the doubt. His jealousy is still burning in his stomach, but he squashes it long enough to give Quill a proper verbal response. “Okay?”
“I came to offer my assistance. And my men.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I’m already drawing up plans.” And with that, Bucky realizes his jealousy was misplaced. Because even though the thought of another man touching you without his permission gets him heated, he realizes that this was not the situation he thought it was. Quill is not Rumlow. Quill did not force you to do anything, nor has he attempted to contact you afterward. He owes you another apology, sure, but Bucky’s thankful Quill had the gall to apologize at all. “Clint’s an old friend. I don’t hang out much with people anymore. But seeing all of you makes me want to have a social life again.”
And Bucky has to admit, his heart breaks a little. Breaks even more when he understands exactly what Quill means.
Bucky grabs the nearest broom leaning against the wall, holding it out to Quill. “Here…You can help us with that bit over there.”
Quill takes it, gives Bucky a quick and respectful nod, and gets to work. Even with extra hands, the shop wasn’t going to magically rebuild itself in a few weeks. Wanda and Pietro needed income by the end of January or else they risked dipping into their savings. Which, that’s the point of savings, but they didn’t have much. At least, that’s what Pietro mumbled this morning.
So Bucky puts down his broom and tears off his gloves, heading for the crumbling door and to the street.
“Buck, where you going?” Sam calls out.
“You said it yourself: Those kids are gonna need all the help they can get! And I have a favor to cash in!”
~
It’s clean. Well, less messy than this morning. Half the town came out to offer some assistance, bringing food and water to everyone working overtime. Clint, Pietro, and Wanda were off being responsible—insurance, their tax guy, going through the documents stored in the safe. Luckily those weren’t too harmed.
You figure helping with the clean up would be too emotional for them. You saw how Pietro was—his face hadn’t fallen that way since he witnessed what Brock Rumlow was planning to do to you two Christmases ago.
“Everything go good at the flower shop?” Your dad’s voice rocks you from your thoughts. You’re currently sitting on the charred front steps, knees tucked high enough that your chin rests on them.
“Yeah. I’m pretty sure my assistant pulled a date, too.”
He laughs, releasing a low grunt as he sits beside you. “Oh, everyone’s falling in love nowadays.”
You allow the silence to fester between you for a while longer. It seems like your dad expects it because he pretends to study the storefronts directly within eyesight, waiting for you to drop the bomb. The bomb he should have dropped months ago when he made up his mind. “When were you going to tell me that you’re going to propose to Monica?”
He dips his head, sighing heavily. A spot of shame tainting his features. “Who told you?”
“Does it matter? You didn’t tell me.”
It’s only been you and your dad since you could remember. Sure, Sam and Bruce were there, raising you like you were their own. Because you were, by some definition. One of their best friends had a child at fifteen, who was then abandoned and left to raise that child alone. They stepped up, as did Steve whenever he visited, and you couldn’t be more thankful.
But even with such a crowd, it was only you two. Sharing inside jokes, downloading the same video games on your phone so you could play together, taking bike rides and trying new foods in the town over. Him not telling you this major milestone hurts.
“Bumblebee…I didn’t mention it for a reason.”
Turning to him, it’s impossible to shield the pain in your eyes. “Did you think I wouldn’t approve? Because I do, a million times yes.”
“I wasn’t doubting that. It just—just wasn’t the right time to bring it up.”
The way he says the right time—he’s hiding something and you know it.
“Then when? The day you proposed?”
Your dad chuckles. “I’m going to propose sometime in the new year. Obviously not at this moment considering I don’t want to steal the spotlight.” He motions to the scene before him, his dark joke landing strong enough that a laugh bursts from your chest. You shake your head, a gesture of half-assed chastising.
“I wanted to tell you in person.”
It makes some sense. But you can’t help the feeling that he’s hiding something big. So you play it off. “Marriage. Wow.”
“Not a fan?” your dad asks, his smile growing.
Marriage. The next milestone that so many people your age conquer. People from high school have been getting married and having children since you were in your early twenties. Sometimes you feel like you’re a little late. But it was never a priority or something with a ticking clock. If it happened, it happened.
“I’ve never really thought of it. Well, I have…but it’s never been a priority.”
“Tell me, Bumblebee—Would you marry James?”
Goddamnit, you would. You would, you would, you would. No other man you’ve dated has ever elicited those feelings. To ponder a life with them. A lifelong commitment. “Would you like me marrying your friend?”
“This isn’t about me. It hasn’t been about me in a long time. So answer the question: Would you marry him?”
“The scary thing is that I think I would.”
“Saying all that, and there’s still a part of you that wants to seek my approval of such a union?” The way he says union makes his statement sound sarcastic.
“Don’t make it into a joke. I care about what you think, Dad.”
His mouth twitches into a small grin, slight wrinkles stretching across his left cheek. “Your only job in this life is to love someone without conditions. Whether it be yourself, a friend, blood, or a partner.”
“Your approval is a condition?”
“My approval is a bonus. But even then, I see how he looks at you. It’s how I used to look at your mother. How I now look at Monica.”
You snort, “My mother isn’t the best example.”
Looking up at the sky, your dad considers his next words carefully. “No but, the love was real. Just because it wasn’t the right person doesn’t mean that my feelings were invalid. We love a lot of people in our lifetime. When you find that you’re capable of it, it’s really easy to recognize it in others.”
“Like Kate and Pietro?” You click your tongue, raising one eyebrow at your dad.
Your dad laughs, rubbing at his chin. “I have seen that boy’s eyes since high school. You won’t believe the amount of talks I’ve had with him.”
“You knew?”
“He didn’t know until earlier this year. Sam made a comment and Pietro had some, out of body realization.”
Did all the adults know? You guess that Wanda didn’t, or maybe she considered it to be mundane or anything but romantic. Boys were attracted to girls all the time—didn’t mean their feelings came from a place of respect and admiration.
“I really do miss a lot by living in New York, huh?”
He throws an arm around your shoulders, tugging you close to his side. Lightly shaking you as he declares, “You’re not allowed to feel guilty about working at your dream job.”
“It’s not that. I just miss you guys all the time.”
“Then visit more often.”
Scoffing, you rest your head on his shoulder. “Being a working girl is tedious.”
“Even I would go crazy with just James and Steven for company.”
You giggle. New York wasn’t all it was jacked up to be, but it was a pleasant place to live. Were you in love with New York before meeting Bucky? Did it hold the same influence over you? Sometimes places aren’t really called home until you have a reason to name it so. It’s the people who make a place, and Bucky is your home.
“They tell you we’re going to bring the decorations over here?”
You blink at him. Bring the decorations over? Over here? In this area of ash and debris? “In what capacity?”
Your dad brings a finger to his lips, miming for you to be quiet. He stands, holding out his hand to help you up. “Stall the three flower nerds. I’ll call you when it’s all ready.”
He starts jogging down the street, completely ignoring your question. You yell out after him, “Is Bucky going to help you?”
“Stall the flower nerds!”
You look around the street, perplexed. Huh?
~
To be honest, it didn’t take much to stall the flower nerds. It took a while to locate them around town, anyway. They hadn’t passed by the house or noticed that everyone was driving decorations back and forth. The mini Christmas trees, the lights, the Hanukkah decorations, the food. Many nearby businesses donated tables and chairs, some even offering to keep their doors open tonight so that guests may use the restroom.
It was now a party of not just your friends, neighbors, and family—but of the entire town. A town that came together on Christmas Eve.
“I really don’t feel like seeing the area right now,” Pietro moaned, sitting in the passenger seat as Clint drove his truck.
“I know, but Bucky asked me if we could pick him up there.”
“He’s got one arm, but two legs,” Clint mutters, earning a smack on the shoulder from the backseat.
“Just drive,” you softly order, anticipation simmering in your chest. The town felt empty as you drove through it, as if they all went to sleep. Wanda even commented on it.
When the final turn came about, and your heart was burning a nauseating hole in your mouth, you just prayed these three didn’t outright scream with fury. That the spot in which all their hard work had been was being desecrated—
“What in the—” Clint curses, leaning forward in the driver’s seat to get a better look. Parking across the street, he’s out of the car immediately. Pietro and Wanda follow, hesitant at first.
“Surprise?” you try, cringing at how stupid you sound.
“Is this why you were acting so weird?” Clint asks, eyes wide in what you hope is wonder.
And wonder would be correct. In the last few hours, your friends have managed to turn an area that was burnt to a crisp in the early hours of this morning into something revolutionary. You figure they got the fire department’s permission to add some of these decorations…because oh my god.
Displayed like a grand patio, its deck carried about a dozen tables, each filled with food, flowers, drinks, and mini Christmas trees. Your dad seems to have brought out the Menorah as well, lighting all the candles even if the last candle was still missing. Chairs were spread about, some of the older townspeople seated and comfortable. Music played from two tiny speakers, crackling at a mediocre frequency, but still strong enough to make out the song. It’s then that you recognize the two boys setting them up and tinkering with them—taller than you remember, and looking more like Sarah each day.
Lights are strung in the same zig-zag formation as the ones on the street, flickering red and green and gold. All those damn paper snowflakes rest on the tables, probably mocking Clint since they aren’t currently hanging from a ceiling. Yet it’s the person on the ladder, tightening one of the green bulbs that surprises you. Quill, who looks across the crowd and over at you, smiling shyly as he raises one hand in polite greeting.
“It wasn’t my idea,” you clarify, walking over to the entrance that the guys have simply torn down. The door’s archway is gone—the shop officially starts from scratch. “The orders were sent out, by the way.”
Wanda snaps her head toward you. Then she sees MJ in the crowd, and her shoulders drop.
Steve breaks through the crowd, his flannel shirt still a little dirty from a hard day’s work. Sam and Bucky tilt their heads at him, obviously surprised by his forwardness. The surprise hits you too as Steve strolls forward to none other than Wanda herself.
“I, uh—” Steve blushes, running a hand down the back of his neck. “I thought that a little Christmas cheer might help. I know you’re Jewish and all, but Hanukkah has passed and it seemed…nice.”
You and Clint stare at the two, silent but communicating with your eyes.
He’s flirting.
I can fuckin’ see that. Why is he flirtin’?
He’s blushing.
I can fuckin’ see that! Why is he blushin’?
“You are red.” Wanda’s observation only makes Steve turn even more scarlet.
“I’m a very pale person.”
Pietro—who has decided he doesn’t care if Wanda and Steve flirt—walks toward Kate, who’s dressed as a waiter rather than a guest. Black tie attire, and her combat boots to pull it all together.
“You have a hand in this?” Pietro playfully interrogates, scanning her up and down. It’s the first time Kate’s never worn a dress for a party, and by the look on Pietro’s face, he’s loving it all the same.
She shrugs, like this was all casual. “Who do you think donated all the alcohol?”
Pietro smirks, then runs a slow hand through his white hair. “I’m still going to help fix your roof.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m not letting you off the hook that easily.” Kate goes to step toward him, for a hug no doubt, but he holds out a hand to stop her. Kate looks wounded in that second, before Pietro crouches, onto one knee, to tie her shoe.
Kate blinks, and the world makes sense.
“Merry Christmas!” Clint exclaims, practically sprinting into the crowd. He jumps into the arms of your dad, who somehow anticipated his weight, and screams it over and over again.
The stress of not knowing how they would react disintegrates to dust, releasing its tension from your ribs and shoulders. This isn’t a solution, nor is it the first step, but it is progress. Self-defined progress for the long road ahead.
~
“Now…I promised my mother, myself, and God that I would never do this again!” Clint proclaims, gassing himself up as he stands between Sam and Steve, ready to flip. He steadies his hands on the chair in front of him, kicks his legs up, and allows the two veterans to hold them high. Then Kate guides the pump to his mouth, and Clint proceeds to accomplish the most insanely coordinated keg stand in the history of keg stands.
He lasts a total of twenty seconds. When Kate announces that she’s next, you decide it’s time to mingle with other people. Peter speaks with MJ at the drinks table, while Quill chats up that girl from yesterday. Carol, was it? She was twisting the ends of her hair, obviously enjoying Quill's flirting. The hair twirling was encouragement.
Heading over to grab a water bottle, a rare face drops into your peripheral. Tall and handsome, perhaps one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen. He grabs the attention of dozens, his elegant face vibrant as his mouth spreads into a smile. He greets everyone who flocked to him with the same grace, with the same delight. A man who hasn’t been seen in this town for a long time.
“Is that the one and only T’Challa?” Monica’s voice booms over the music. You turn to her to see she’s already dragging your dad through the crowd. It clicks through you—the picture in Kate’s bar, the one where Bucky looks like a twenty-year old twink.
Your dad beams, accepting T’Challa's handshake. “This is even rarer than my daughter and James visiting.”
T’Challa laughs, scanning the room as if in search of the man mentioned. Instead, he finds you as you timidly walk over, giving him a good-natured wave in exchange.
“I heard what happened. Plus, my mother still lives here and it was about time I jumped on a plane instead,” T’Challa admits, giving you a slight nod in greeting.
“Have you been in town since this morning?” your dad asks.
“Actually, Barnes called me.”
“He what?” T’Challa nearly laughs again from your shocked expression.
“Did you know that I asked him to be my patient when I came up with the prototype for his arm?”
“Well, no. But it makes sense.”
He finally finds Bucky in the crowd, watching as he jokes around with Steve and Pietro. His eyes never leave him as he confesses, “I gave him his arm without cost. He was my guinea pig, my selfish science experiment when I was in my late twenties. He let me work on him, tear him apart and put him back together, as a favor to me. I owe him for believing in me and my brain.”
“You…owe him?”
He nods. Then, as casual as ever, says, “I’m here to throw my millions of dollars into rebuilding the flower shop.”
Everyone near pauses, the surprise emitting around the room. Even Clint, recovering from his kegs-capades, saddles up beside you. Elbow stabbing your side, being annoying as ever.
“I…don’t think it’ll take a million dollars.”
Clint scoffs, “Shit! I’ll take the million! Don’t listen to her!”
T’Challa chuckles, “Good to see you again, Clint.”
“I’m a pleasure, I know. What’s this about a million?”
“Clint—” Your elbow stabs him this time.
“Monica.” T’Challa turns to her, bowing a little. Clint laughs to himself, like he expected the dismissal. “I’m so glad to see you again. Is your mother doing well?”
“Attached to your mother’s hip as usual,” Monica responds, rolling her eyes at the mental image it causes.
“I’ll see about staying longer this time. My sister can handle everything back in California.” Then, more shyly, he asks, “And how is your friend?”
“Oh, the nurse I work with? Your mother’s nurse?” T’Challa clears his throat awkwardly as Monica continues. “Nakia’s fine. She’s actually around here somewhere—”
T’Challa starts, speechless and stuttering. Both you and Clint look on, the concept of holiday romanticism growing more real by the second. But neither of you say a word, happy to be spectators to yet another love story in the making.
Bystanders. Readers. Onlookers.
When you turn to find Bucky, he’s gone.
~
“Are the festivities too much for you?”
Entering the store next door, a rustic cafe, you spot Bucky leaning against the diner and counting his breaths. He blinks one eye open at your question, smiling a little as you cautiously make your way to him. It was your way of non-verbally asking if he wanted you here at all, or truly needed some time to himself.
“The day was a lot.” He loosens a breath that’s both a groan and sigh, then rolls his neck to crack it. “To be honest, I’m surprised my back is still holding out.”
You chuckle lightly. "T'Challa?"
"Ah. So he did come."
Pausing halfway toward him, the red light from outside shining upon the left side of your face, the original question still stands.
“Just let me hold you.” Well, you can certainly give him that.
His words hang in the air as you allow it, melting in his embrace. He’s tired, but he walks you to the wall, providing that extra leverage. Something about the hug turns vibrant, innocence deteriorating quickly as Bucky’s hands begin to wander. As your hands trace up his chest, his neck, his cheeks. Those beautiful, high cheeks that retain the most gorgeous pink. That pink he turns when his blood decides to also travel elsewhere. That pink he turns when he decides his time would be better spent worshiping you.
His emotions get the better of him. Multiplying. He whimpers as he digs his face into the crook of your neck, fisting your velvet dress. Noises that mean he’s desperate. Noises that mean he needs you.
Not wants.
Needs.
“I—” you choke, a rush of air leaving your lungs as your back meets the wall. He hoists you up, holding your thighs the second you wrap them around his waist. Your high heels knock against each other. Bundling the dress to your waist, Bucky dips his flesh fingers into your heated center.
The heat from this moment and the chill from outside amplifies the pleasure building in your abdomen. The knowledge that anyone could interrupt does so as well. You internally thank Bucky for choosing to fuck you against the wall—that way you won’t be defiling someone’s table.
Bucky draws tight circles against your clit, breathing heavily into your neck. Pushing his body against yours, holding you to him. He leaves your neck, only to rest his forehead against yours, your lips barely touching. Intimate.
“Are you sure?” you drag out, the pressure in your chest increasing.
Bucky nods, mumbling a yes as soft as you’ve ever heard it. He sets you down so he can unzip his pants while you remove your underwear and your heels. Until you’re back in his arms, legs around him, guiding him into you.
You both release a collective sigh of relief, clutching onto each other in a frenzied display of emotion. Your hands in his hair, his lips on your neck, his cock buried deep inside you. It’s not fast and it’s not quick. Instead, it’s slow and deep, stirring your heartstrings and dragging out short whimpers from your chest.
Half of you wants to get this over with as quickly as possible in fear that someone will walk in. The other half wants to experience this forever, bask in the glow of Bucky’s warm embrace. Why he felt the need to be with you right now, you don’t know. But whatever it was, you’re thankful for it.
To feel wanted—that’s a blessing.
“I’m—close,” you push out, gritted teeth making it hard to do so. This angle isn’t the best, but Bucky’s fingers circling your clit adds the necessary pressure. “Bucky.”
“You can come, Doll,” he groans, hiking his hips a little more forceful now. Moaning, you discover that all you can do is listen to him.
You’re on the verge of toppling over that sweet edge, to witnessing those wonderful black dots across your vision, when the door opens and Peter Quill walks through. Stunted, probably here to use the bathroom, staring wide-eyed. Bucky doesn’t seem to notice.
With your eyes locked on Quill’s and him completely paralyzed a few feet away, you come around Bucky’s cock. Eyebrows furrowed, mouth dropped open, silky legs pulling Bucky’s body tighter against you. You fist a handful of Bucky’s hair at the back of his head, grinding your hips down to help him reach his end.
Quill blinks, his eyes scanning from the top of your head to your curling toes. Nothing in his stare gives off jealousy or anger. Instead, his mouth twitches upward and his neck reddens. He gives you a small salute, walking back to the party like he didn’t witness a thing.
Bucky thrusts a few more times, the generosity of his fingers not enough to throw you into a second orgasm, but still pleasurable nonetheless. You hold him, playing with his hair, and smiling to yourself about what just happened.
~
The party is still in full swing when you and Bucky decide to take a walk around the block. The snow had stopped falling around mid-day, so the streets weren’t difficult to navigate. The sounds of the party carried on as you two walked, flowing like magic through the street.
“Will this be our tradition then? Visiting every holiday season?” you ask, swinging your conjoined hands back and forth.
Bucky squeezes you. “Families create traditions, don’t they?”
“Am I your family?”
Bucky’s insides turn into heavenly mush. He doesn’t know the exact moment that he considered you more important than himself, but he knows that he considers you to be more important than anything else. Family meant a connection. Not blood—your family can be anybody you choose. He would describe your relationship as an ethereal connection, one molded by sensations he didn’t even know existed.
“Am I yours?”
“We’ve been over this.”
“No, I mean…Will you have me?”
You stop walking, and Bucky accidentally tugs at your arm. It doesn’t hurt, but it does shake you from the shock.
This sounds a lot like a—
You meet his eyes, silver already gleaming in his. Your heart threatens to leap from your chest, too joyful from the mere sight of him. His tall build, his longer hair, his beautiful pink lips.
It’s the very simple fact that you would allow Bucky Barnes to take your hand, guide you through war, and seal your fate. If there was anyone in the world you wanted to be stranded in the middle of the ocean with, fighting the currents with, it would be him. Any person you wanted to climb down balconies with, co-own a bar with, share New York with, it would be him. Any person you wanted to climb trees with, celebrate every holiday with, catch the train for, it would be him. It would always be him.
You know it the moment he bends down to one knee. The moment he pulls a velvet box from his jacket pocket. The moment it’s lifted, revealing a gorgeous emerald ring. The moment his breath hitches and he looks up at you, his blue eyes meeting yours. Blue eyes that are soft and tender.
Then he whispers your full name softly, the sound like marvelous honey, and asks, “Will you marry me?”
This was the grand secret he and everyone else was hiding from you, wasn’t it? The reason your dad wasn’t going to steal Bucky’s thunder by proposing to Monica tonight. Because Bucky Barnes asked for permission, made sure your most annoying friends knew, and waited until he was back in your hometown, his hometown, to buy a ring and propose.
And the stranger yesterday was correct: you know everything the moment a man is on their knees for you. Whatever plans you had before this, they’re all wrecked for the better. Whatever paths that were carved out, new ones have just been made for you. All worries, all questions, have been squashed and answered. The warmth of the future has never felt more inviting.
Bucky Barnes is the man you want to leave the Christmas lights up until January with. The man you want to share a bed with, share breakfast with, share a life with. This man is yours, and you are his.
“Yes.” You mean for it to come out louder, but it’s barely above a whisper. Like your voice is shocked silent. “Yes.”
Bucky expels a quick breath. “Yes?”
With a quick nod, you smile wide. “Yes!"
Bucky bursts up, capturing your lips with his. Overdramatic and true. “Yes,” he repeats against your mouth. “Yes, yes, yes!”
A laugh erupts from your chest, but Bucky just keeps trying to kiss you silent. Or not silent, but attempting to swallow the sound, as if it fuels his soul.
“I love you,” he promises.
Here, in the glistening winter night with flowers barely sprouting from the sidewalk and the town voices in the background, you’ve never felt so happy.
“You make me so happy, Bucky Barnes.”
His smile damn near breaks your heart. Resting his forehead on yours, he vows, “Tell me if that ever changes, Doll. I only ever want to make your heart beat for mine. I only ever want my heart to ache for you. Love of my life, introduce me as yours.”
You giggle, “Poetic, Barnes.”
He smiles again, happy to see his words landing. “Only around you.”
And isn’t that what love is? Spouting random poetic verses because you just can’t help it? Finally meeting the person who prompts you to do so. They don’t have to be pure Shakespeare—the emotion behind the poems is enough.
So you vow to make your life with Bucky Barnes a poem, where each new verse is more beautiful than the last, original and sincere. Endless, and true.
~
“Let me see, let me see, let me see!” Kate shouts, jumping up and down, practically shaking the windows of the living room. Everyone’s crowded in your dad’s house for Christmas morning, even Sarah and the boys, Monica, and Peggy. No one tells Kate to calm down, nor do they ask what she’s so excited about.
They saw the ring. They grabbed your hand. They’ve all been screaming just as loud as her.
You didn’t show anyone last night. After Bucky proposed, you had simply gone home and made love again. So the proposal was just yours and his, a secret to keep for a few hours. You basked in the glow, in the knowledge no other human being had. Sure, everyone knew he was going to do it, but they didn’t know if he was going to go through with it.
And when you walked down the stairs, realizing that Steve had not come into your room last night and no one had pulled Bucky out, you know that they all expected.
So you show Kate the ring again, holding your hand out as she tugs you across the living room, modeling you to everyone. Everyone gives their congratulations; everyone looks so damn happy.
Presents are exchanged—you still managed to buy that book for Bucky—plans are discussed, and food is eaten. You look around the room, at your full house, and cannot contain your glee. Turning slightly, you let the tear slip, hoping nobody noticed.
But Bucky does. With a gentle swipe across your cheek, he reinforces your love for him. Shows his love for you. Fortifies it. Simple, and yet not at all.
~
TAGLIST: [on masterlist]
#Bucky Barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes x you#Bucky Barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes fanfiction#dbf!bucky#dbf!buckybarnes#avengers au#marvel fanfiction#warmth of winter sequel#the warmth of the future#captainsimagines#by Moni#holiday fanfic#part three#finale
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The Newest Avenger
Tom!Peter Parker x Reader
Masterlist - Join My Taglist!
Requested here on Tumblr!
Fandom: Marvel
Summary: Y/N Maximoff has officially moved into the Compound and joined the Avengers with her older sister, Wanda. After the loss of her brother and the Battle of Sokovia, the last thing Y/N wants to do is pretend to live a normal life and go to an American school. But with a little convincing from Wanda, she agrees to go anyway. Luckily for her, since it just might work out to be the best decision she could make.
Word Count: 3,254
Category: Fluff, little bit of angst (a few mentions of Pietro being dead)
Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.
"Wanda, do I really have to do this?" I whined to my big sister as we stood in the kitchen of the Avengers Compound together. After fighting for our country alongside the Avengers and losing our brother in the process, I'd spent the summer trying to recover and adjust to my new reality. Now, after the first few days of September, school was starting for me and everyone else my age.
Going to an American high school after joining the Avengers and losing my older brother was just about the last thing I wanted to do. But Wanda wasn't giving me a choice.
"Yes, you have to do this. It will be good for you," she said, zipping up my packed lunch and sliding it across the table to me. "Doing something a normal teenager would do will help you, Y/N."
I sighed. I disagreed, but we'd had this argument enough times in the past month that I knew it was pointless to argue. I hefted my backpack onto my shoulders and took a few backwards steps towards the door.
"This is your last chance to be a good sister and tell me you were kidding about this whole thing," I said as I went. Wanda just smiled and shook her head.
"Go, have fun. Make friends. Learn things. Have a normal, happy experience."
I paused, meeting Wanda's eyes. We'd both been going through hell for a long time, and especially over the last few months. She was the only thing I had left, and I was the only thing she had left. The tentative hope in her eyes made me swallow the retorts about how, from everything I'd heard, high school was anything but a normal, happy experience.
"I will, Wan," I said softly. "I will."
"Good."
I held her stare for a few moments, and although she tried to hide it, I could see her eyes glimmering with tears even from across the room. I gave her the most convincing smile I could muster, then turned and headed out the door.
Happy Hogan, the personal security for Tony Stark, had volunteered to drive me to school for at least my first week. Given that I didn't really have another option, I had agreed. The ride passed in silence, and with each mile we got closer to the city, I got more and more nervous.
My siblings and I had survived some of the most horrible things imaginable over the years together. But now, I was doing this alone. I'd never had to go through something alone before. I didn't like it.
We pulled up to the school, and Happy wished me a good first day as I got out of the car. I gave him a tight smile as I closed the door behind me, and I watched as he drove away, presumably back to the Avengers Compound, leaving me stranded at Midtown High.
The absolute last place I wanted to be.
I sighed as I turned to face the school. Crowds of students laughing, smiling, and chatting headed up the stairs to the building, but I couldn't muster even a hint of excitement. I dragged myself towards the doors, following clear signs for the office where I was supposed to check in.
The receptionist was very kind and helpful, giving me my class schedule, my locker number, and everything else she thought I might need. I appreciated it, especially since she didn't know who I was. Wanda and I had decided it was important to keep my identity a secret, at least until I finished school, so the receptionist's kindness was genuine, and not some superhero thing.
I stared down at my schedule and my locker number, trying to orient myself as I stepped into a hallway full of people. None of them paid me much attention, and I managed to navigate my way through them to my locker. I'd just opened it and thrown my lunch in when the bell rang, and everyone scattered off to different classrooms.
I looked at my schedule again, trying to figure out where in the hell I was meant to go. I started down one hallway, but the classroom numbers weren't anywhere near the one I was looking for, so I turned and tried to go back the way I came.
Slowly, the hallways emptied, leaving me alone and getting increasingly desperate to find my class. The last thing I needed was to get lost and be incredibly late on my first day, but it looked like I didn't really have a way around it.
"Hey!" I turned at the sound of a voice to find a boy about my age with curly brown hair waving and walking towards me. "Do you need some help?"
I hesitated, but the smile on his face seemed genuine enough. Besides, it's not like I was getting very far by trying to find my way on my own.
"Uh, yes..." I said, pulling out my class schedule and offering it to the boy. He seemed strangely familiar, but I knew I'd never seen him before. "I can't find the room for my first class."
"Here, let me see... Oh! You're in the same first period English as I am. Come on, I'll walk you there."
He gave me a friendly smile as he passed back my schedule, then started down the hallway. I couldn't help hesitating for just one more second, but then I followed after him as he headed for the stairs.
"Midtown can be a little bit of a maze," he said as we walked. "I remember on my first day last year, I couldn't find anything!"
I didn't say anything, mostly because I wasn't sure what to say. It seemed this boy didn't need my help to carry on the conversation, however.
"They really should get some tour guides or something to help new students," he mused, mostly to himself. He trailed off, then looked at me again, a massive smile on his face. "I'm Peter, by the way! Peter Parker."
He held out a hand for me to shake, and slowly, I took it.
"Y/N," I said, intentionally leaving out the Maximoff part. Wanda and I had agreed on a fake last name I could go by outside of the Compound, but it still felt strange to use it. "It's nice to meet you too."
Peter and I walked the rest of the way to our class while keeping up casual conversation, and despite my initial hesitation, I really couldn't help liking him. He was so kind, friendly, and genuine, and his smile was absolutely infectious.
We made it to our first class in the nick of time, and Peter made a point of sitting somewhere with an empty desk next to it for me. I gave him a small smile, which he returned, and I couldn't help the way my heart sped up a bit. This was one of the first times I'd felt like smiling at all since my brother had died.
The English class passed without any challenges, and to my delight, Peter and I had our next class together as well. We had to split up for third period, but he walked me to the door of my classroom anyway, and made a promise to meet me in the same spot for lunch.
"Hey! How was history?" he asked, smiling brightly as he approached me after class. I fell into step beside him as we headed for the cafeteria.
"It was good," I said, shrugging. "Nothing particularly interesting, but nothing terrible, either."
"Yeah, Mr. Jackson can really drone on, but at least he's not super strict."
I hummed my agreement, and we passed a few steps in silence as we reached my locker. I needed to grab my lunch before we went to the cafeteria, but Peter had already grabbed his.
"Peter..." I said, pausing after shutting my locker door and turning to look the boy in the eyes. "I have to ask you... why are you being so kind to me?"
"Oh!" he looked away and rubbed at the back of his neck, and I could see a faint blush rising to his cheeks. "Well, I just... I know what it's like to feel lost, and a little left out. I guess... I guess I just didn't want to see someone else having to go through that too, especially when I could do something about it."
I smiled at him, wider than I had this morning, as he met my eyes again. He smiled back, and I felt my heart melt just a little at the sight of him.
"Thank you, for that," I said, holding his stare so he'd know I meant it. "I truly appreciate it."
"Oh, well, it's... it's no problem," he said, clearly uncomfortable with the praise. "Here, let me show you the best lunch spot. It's outside, so we can't really use it when it gets cold, but it's nice in the fall."
Over the next few weeks, I fell into the routine of school and seeing Peter regularly. We only got closer as friends, and I had to admit, my heart often skipped a beat when I saw him, waving or smiling at me from halfway down the hall. I had a spring in my step that hadn't been there since my siblings and I were children in Sokovia, before the Stark weapons and everything else had destroyed our lives. Wanda clearly noticed, but she never said anything to me about it. She just smiled a little more often, like me.
One particularly nice fall day, Peter and I sat outside in our usual lunch spot, with Ned and MJ. They'd started as Peter's friends, but had quickly become my friends, too.
"Can you believe that history quiz?" asked Ned, frowning as he bit into his sandwich. "I just know I failed it."
"I can promise you that you did better than me," I sighed. "I know nothing about American history. I'd like to see how this teacher would do on a Sokovian history quiz before he starts trying to grade me on how well I know this country's history."
"Damn right," agreed MJ. We shared a smile, and the four of us continued chatting until I felt a frantic buzzing in my pocket. I pulled out my phone and glanced at it.
Emergency page, summons to the Compound. I was needed back ASAP for something of Avengers magnitude.
I shot up, surprised to find Peter standing too. We stared at each other for a moment, then I quickly shook the moment off.
"I have to go," I blurted out. Peter gave me a strange look, but I ignored it. "My, uh... my sister needs my help with something. Immediately. I... yeah, I have to go."
I didn't wait for my friends' reactions as I started packing up. After a second, Peter cleared his throat and spoke.
"I actually have to go too," he said. "Some family emergency with May."
Ned and MJ just watched us as we frantically threw our things into bags, then took off in completely different directions. I didn't look back. Whatever Peter had going on, or whether or not my new friends thought I was strange, didn't matter. I was needed elsewhere, and I wasn't going to let my sister deal with whatever it was without me.
****************
It took me longer than I would've liked to get back to the Compound. When I arrived, I quickly found my sister and donned a mask along with the rest of my superhero costume. I felt a little ridiculous, but we'd agreed that I would keep my identity secret for at least the rest of high school, which meant playing dress up in the middle of an emergency.
Thankfully, it wasn't actually anything terrible. Someone had tried to break into the Compound, and since we'd all been notified anyway, Tony had decided to just treat it as an emergency drill. As annoying as it was to be called out of school at the drop of a hat for a glorified drill, I'd take it any day over an actual emergency. Especially after everything we'd been through lately.
As we shuffled around and found sparring partners, I found myself next to Spider-Man. I didn't know much about the colorful American hero, but he seemed nice enough as we got to work together.
"Hey, you're Wanda's little sister, right?" asked Spider-Man as we traded a few low-energy punches. I was sparring without using my powers, since I still didn't have the best handle on them. I nodded in response to his question.
"That's right."
"Cool! How do you like being part of the Avengers so far? I'm pretty new to it, but it already seems so cool I can't really believe it!"
I shrugged, but a small smile grew on my face nonetheless. "I can't say I mind it. Everyone's certainly been friendly, which helps."
"That's great! You know, I actually just met another girl from Sokovia at my- uh, in my non-Spidey life. She's super nice, though! I think you'd like her."
"Too bad I can't meet her, since we have our super-secret identities and all that," I reminded him. He seemed to deflate a little.
"Yeah..."
"Hey, it's fine. I have plenty of people to meet here, after all." I gave him a smile, which he returned. "Besides, I've met a few nice people in my non-Avengers life too."
****************
I smiled at Peter a few weeks post-training, feeling my heart pick up a little bit as we shared a laugh at lunch in our usual spot. I couldn't explain exactly when it had happened, but now, when I looked at Peter for too long I felt butterflies in my stomach. I liked him.
I tried to ignore that feeling as I turned back to my lunch and ate some of the things Wanda had packed for me. Ned and MJ both had club-related things they had to do at lunch today, so it was just me and Peter this time.
I loved Ned and MJ, but I honestly couldn't say I minded.
"So..." started Peter, clearing his throat and shifting a little to face me better. "You know, I was thinking..."
He trailed off, clearly incredibly nervous, and I fixed him with a curious look. He stuttered for a few more moments, then took a deep breath.
"I was thinking maybe, if you wanted to, we-"
"Parker!"
The two of us turned quickly at the sound of the shout to see Flash Thompson, one of the biggest jerks in the school, walking towards us with a few of his friends trailing behind.
"Flash, what do you want?" asked Peter. "Can't you just give us a minute?"
"Why, so you can find a nerdy way to ask your nerd girlfriend on a date?" he demanded. My face warmed at his words, but I couldn't tell whether it was from embarrassment or anger. "You know, it really fits that the two biggest losers in the school are keeping each other company. At least you have each other to sit alone with at lunch."
"Flash, come on, just get outta here-"
Peter stopped short as I stood up, eyes fixed on Flash. He was being a dick to me and to Peter, even when Peter and I were just minding our own business, and I couldn't stand it. I could feel the deepest reservoirs of my power crackling just under the surface of my skin, itching to get out.
"Whoa, somebody's pissed. What's the matter, Parker, need your girlfriend to stand up for you now?" He turned back to me, and my magic flared in response. "What are you gonna do, sweetheart?"
And just like that, I completely lost control. My eyes darkened, and I stopped trying to hold back my powers. The chaos magic gathered at my fingertips, and I started to raise my hand to direct it at Flash, but then suddenly, strong arms were pushing me backwards into the school. I kept my gaze locked on Flash, but slowly, Peter's face in front of me, looking more than a little concerned, started to come into focus instead.
"Y/N, come on, walk away... focus on me, please, you have to calm down..."
Peter finally managed to get me back inside the building and around a corner so I couldn't see Flash anymore, and I managed to focus on him instead. The magic still curled around me, finally becoming undeniably visible as I raised off the floor a bit and my hair fanned out around me, and I saw Peter's eyes go wide.
Just like that, the anger and magic flaring up and threatening to spill over guttered out. Peter's face... he must've been terrified of me. I must've looked like a monster.
"Peter..." I breathed, fighting to hold back my tears as the last of my magic curled back up inside me, no longer threatening to explode out. "I am... so, so sorry. Please, please don't be scared, I promise-"
"Scared?" he broke in, taking a few steps towards me. "No, no, Y/N, I'm not scared. I..."
He trailed off and glanced around the hallway to make sure we were alone. Once he was satisfied, he quickly lifted up the front of his shirt.
Beneath was the familiar fabric of the Spider-Man costume.
"You... you're Spider-Man?" I demanded.
"And you're Wanda's little sister!"
"We trained together. Shit, we told each other about... about each other during training!"
Peter and I locked eyes and stared at each other for a few beats, then burst out laughing.
"We're idiots!" I wheezed, leaning against the wall as Peter did the same.
"I hate to say it, but we really are," he agreed. "We can never tell Harley about this."
I quickly nodded my agreement. I'd only met the honorary Stark kid once, but I knew if he found out about this, he'd never let it drop.
"So... were you really about to blow up Flash?" Peter finally asked, a small smile tugging at his lips. I just shrugged.
"He'd deserve it."
We shared another laugh at that, and as it gave way to comfortable silence, I couldn't keep my next question to myself.
"So what were you going to ask me before Flash showed up?"
Peter went bright red, from his neck to the tips of his ears, and I couldn't help smiling at how adorable it was.
"Uh... well, I was gonna see if maybe you wanted to go get coffee with me sometime, or something... but I totally get it if it would be weird, now that we know we're teammates-!"
"Peter, I'd love that. Seriously. And I think it's even better now that we know we're teammates."
"Really?" I nodded, and Peter absolutely beamed back at me. "Well, okay, great! How about... after school today?"
"Sounds perfect."
We shared a soft smile, and I reached out and took Peter's hand as the bell rang.
"Come on, Spider-Man. We should get to class."
He squeezed my hand softly as the hallway flooded with students, the two of us lost in our own little world. Ned and MJ gave us significant looks as we walked in together, and I got the impression they hadn't actually been doing club stuff at lunch today.
I'd have to remember to thank them later. Now that I was a few months into my new life here, I had to admit, there were a lot of things I really, really liked about it. And after today, Peter held the #1 spot on that list.
#marvel#spiderman#peter parker#peter parker x reader#marvel fanfiction#marvel imagine#marvel one shot#spiderman imagine#spiderman fanfiction#peter parker imagine#spiderman oneshot#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker oneshot#spiderman x reader#tom!peter parker#ned leeds#MJ Watson#Avengers#wanda maximoff#maximoff!reader
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take a chance (break a leg)
Fandom: Thunderbirds
Pairing: Jeff & Alan
Word Count: 3198
Summary: It appears that Alan has been repeatedly sneaking out without anyone knowing. None of the brothers are brave enough to confront him about it immediately. Fortunately—or unfortunately, it was hard to tell—the last eight years Jeff spent in space was just enough to rip away any sense of tact he might have had towards stuff like this, meaning he was more than ready to do the talking-to himself.
@tagminibang2022 (@tagminibang) TIME WOOO
the artist i was given was the lovely @teapotteringabout! when i was given them i was SO STOKED to write something since all of their art is amazing!! i had a hard time picking, there were a handful of pieces that tickled my muse with inspo, but ultimately, this one here gave my brain enough imagery to create a fully-fledged fic
this fic can also be found on my ao3 under the same title, and as always, i hope you enjoy! :D
Jeff remembered a very old college acquaintance.
They had to write a paper for a psychology class, and they curiously picked the topic of parents. They wondered that once an adult received the title of “parent,” would their mind continue to gravitate toward parental instincts even if they began to believe they would never see that child again for whatever reason. A sort of “nature vs. nurture” topic, a question about humanity’s tendency to pick kindness over their previous survival-based inhibitions.
Jeff never got a chance to read that paper, but he’s got the feeling he no longer needs to do so to know the answer.
“Guys, Alan’s a good kid, he’s not gonna do anything stupid. I seriously don’t see why you’re all so up-in-arms about this.”
“Of course you don’t, Gordon. You just want Alan to overtake your record of ‘amount of nights snuck out’ so you don’t have it held over your head anymore.”
“Hey, it wasn’t just me all those times you know! You know Virgil helped me out occasionally!”
“He did what?”
“Thanks, Gordon.”
“You haven’t told them yet?”
“Well, unlike you, I prefer living to see tomorrow.”
“Guys, don’t make me come down from Five to help you sort this out. What has already happened is over and done, now we gotta focus on the currently happening.”
“Right, sorry. Now, anybody know-”
Jeff took that cue to leave the listening-in behind and go to his room. Shutting the door with his back to it, Jeff let out a sigh. Okay, now it was time for him to think.
Alan was sneaking out. None of his kids knew why or how or even when. They only figured it out when John did a regular camera check and found old recordings of Alan somehow briefly disabling security measures that warned them of movement in the hangars to nab a car to fly out to the Mainland for a few hours before sneaking back as if nothing happened. Jeff had to admit that it was difficult to imagine Alan doing that. Sure, he had his moments of being your typical child, but nothing that gave Jeff the impression that he would do this.
And that was the thing, wasn’t it? Outside of Scott and John, Jeff doesn’t know what his kids got up to in their later-teenage years. He was gone, basically good as dead, for some of the most important years of their life. Now, your life doesn’t peak between the ages of fifteen and thirty or whatever those high-school-college jock has-beens insist, he still had plenty of time with them (something not a lot of other families had the miracle of saying), but he would still feel a ball of sorrow in his chest for leaving them alone for a long time coming.
The fact that Virgil was just as guilty of being sneaky put a smile on his face, though. He knew that kid was too quiet for his own good. It was vital for a child to break the rules a little; builds character, you know?
Walking over to his desk, Jeff picked up the singular picture frame he chose to be what accented the piece of furniture throughout him readjusting back to Earth. He had plenty of other pictures of his family, but this one was his pièce de résistance, in a manner of speaking. Running his finger over the corner of the wood, he grinned at the memory.
The first time they all went over to the Mainland together once Jeff was strong enough to do so. Even Kayo, his mother, and Brains were in the pic, though MAX and EOS weren’t there. Mostly because EOS refused to come and no one trusted MAX to be in the general public. Regardless, all nine of them were grouped for a picture that was possible thanks to something Brains made for specific instances like that, and Jeff considered it his favorite. His entire family all together once more; a sign that said things that may be tough now, but they will get better.
A knock on his door brought Jeff out of his thoughts, making him put the picture back in its spot just in time for him to turn around and lean back against his desk to watch his mother walk into the room. She spoke with a grin, “Knock knock?”
“Hey mom,” Jeff said, “to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
She closed the door behind her like Jeff did earlier, concerning him somewhat. That was a tell-tale sign that she wanted to tell him something without anyone from outside hearing the conversation. She crossed her arms, leaning against the entrance to doubly make sure no one could barge in, “I’m assuming you heard the boys talking about Alan as well?”
Jeff had no idea where he got his eavesdropping habit from, why do you ask, “Yeah, and I have just as little of an idea as they do. Sure, it makes sense that I specifically wouldn’t understand Alan sneaking out, but the fact they don’t probably means we won’t know for a while. Confronting him will just make him squirrely too.”
His mom walked across the room to brush some lint and dust off the shoulders of his shirt, “And you’re saying you’re the type of person to give up, then?”
Ah, so that’s why she shut the door, “Of course not. You think I’m giving up after eight years of not doing so?”
“Atta boy,” his mother grinned, turning ever so slightly to glance at the photo on his desk as well. “That kid practically kisses the ground his brothers walk on. I think you might have a better shot at getting him to open up with what might be a lack of pressure, you know?”
Jeff sighed, not all-too-positive about that supposed “lack of pressure” he had over their youngest, “I sure hope that’s the case.”
---
Something Jeff found to be hard to do again was sleep normally.
You would think being trapped in literal space meant a lot of time to rest, but when one second of things going wrong meant your demise, you had to be on your toes no matter what. It took Jeff a little bit of work, but he managed to create a sleep schedule that gave him the least amount of shut-eye for the perfect amount of energy he needed to survive. It wasn’t optimal, but he was already lost in space, so he took what he got without crying about it.
Also, John couldn’t get mad at his crappy sleep once it finally helped them solve this Alan case; Jeff took smug comfort in that.
From what it sounded like, there was no exact pattern to his escapades. Most of the footage showed random times he chose to leave the island, ranging from when his brothers were all passed out after a rescue to straight up just leaving in the middle of the afternoon. Jeff supposed half the reason none of them confronted Alan about it yet was that they didn’t want to open the can of worms that was them not realizing they weren’t paying as much attention to Alan as they thought they were.
So the fact that Jeff could stay up for three-fourths of the day and watch the garage for Alan’s presence was a big factor in finally catching him in the act.
He was about to call it quits on the third night, but his brain was telling him to give it one more shot, especially since the rest of his kids had a long rescue on the coast of Finland that day and were conked out until practically next year. He had never been more grateful for his intuition, as he came out to the car garage right at the same time Alan was about to open the door to one of their cars. He quickly noticed Jeff out of the corner of his eye and yanked his hand back like the handle burned him.
“Je- Dad!” Alan stuttered, shoving something behind his back with both arms. “What, uh, what fancies you around here at this time of night?”
Stepping out from the shadows, Jeff crossed his arms in the hopes he looked more stern than he did threatening, “Just taking a stroll around the house. Sleep hasn’t been coming to me all that easily, you know. I have the feeling that’s not why you’re here, though.”
Alan nervously cleared his throat, “Eh, you never know what might be going through one’s mind. The night tends to bring mysteries with it.”
So Alan was definitely taking after Gordon in terms of deflecting. Gordon was easy to break through with a little bit of digging, but that didn’t make his nonchalance less, mm, irritating was a strong word, but when you spent ten minutes with Gordon and all he did was crack jokes, it got a little draining. Jeff opened his mouth to continue gently drilling his son, but then he noticed the object Alan was trying to hide. It appeared to be an oddly shaped plank of wood, a bright red plastic wheel attached to it sticking out from behind Alan.
Was… Was Alan sneaking out to go skateboarding?
That relieved some of Jeff’s worries. At least Alan wasn’t into anything (obviously) illegal, and he was an adult however young that adult status may be, so it wasn’t like any of them could tell him no to leaving and partaking in a sports hobby. It just left the question of why Alan felt the need to sneak out to do something so inconsequential as skateboard.
“Well, since we’re here, I think we should talk a little,” Jeff extended an olive branch, not so subtly stepping between Alan and the car. “I haven’t had that much time to hang out with you yet, and since we’re two young men that obviously can’t sleep, we might as well make use of it. What do you like doing in your free time? Any sports? Something like basketball, soccer… maybe even skateboarding?”
Alan tensed up, and Jeff knew he hit it right on the money.
Jeff hoped his smirk was as subtle as he wanted it to be, “Man, I remembered when I skateboarded as a teen. Was always visiting the rink every other weekend if I could help it. Not sure it did as much for my calves as I wanted it to, but I tried my best.”
Alan thankfully and reluctantly took the branch for what it was, “You skateboarded?”
Jeff nodded, leaning his butt against the hood of the car above one of the tires, “Oh yes, just ask your grandma. She has lots of pictures of me with porcupine quills in my face while sitting in the emergency room of a Kansas hospital one time.”
Alan abruptly laughed before bringing one of his hands from his back to place over his mouth, “Sorry.”
Jeff shook his head while moving to the driver’s door, “Don’t be. It was an incredibly stupid day for me, and I quickly learned my lesson about what is a ‘cool’ trick and an ‘idiotic’ one.”
“Uh, what are…” Alan started to ask as Jeff opened the door to the car.
Jeff raised an eyebrow, “Well, I always hated when I missed one of my skateboard weekends because the farm needed extra help. Don’t want to keep you. Plus, we technically can’t sleep, remember? And there’s no point in standing around all bored when there’s much more fun things to take part in.”
The way Alan beamed excitedly made Jeff think the cold eight years in space might finally become water under the bridge for him one day.
Virgil had recently been taking Jeff in the car to let him practice driving again, so he wasn’t going into it blind. He knew Alan was capable of driving—clearly, if the kid could sneak off the island so often without a single scratch—but since he was there, “By the way, who taught you to drive? I figured you all would eventually get behind a wheel, but there’s thinking about it and then there’s actually seeing it.”
As the shotgun's door shut, Alan winced, “Oh, yeah, that… Hah, what if I told you it wasn’t anyone from the island that taught me technically?”
Sighing, Jeff shook his head as he started the ignition, “Of course.” He was going to have a talk with Parker, because really, who else could it be?
Alan gave him directions as he flew the two of them to the Mainland, eventually landing somewhere in New York City. The two of them sat in the car for a few minutes, Alan noticeably fidgeting with his board as a million thoughts raced through his head. “Hey, I’m sorry to be rude,” Alan interrupted. “But do you mind, um…”
Jeff stayed silent, letting Alan get to his question on his own time.
Alan swallowed the spit in his mouth, “Do you mind staying out of sight of the skatepark? You can watch me if you want, I just…”
Ah, Jeff didn’t need to ask why Alan felt the need to sneak out anymore.
His mother wasn’t too far off the marker when it came to the “pressure” Alan had on his shoulders. He was the youngest of five (six if Kayo involved herself in the equation) very talented and popular siblings that were birthed to one of the most notorious men of this century, not that Jeff was bragging. You couldn’t utter the name “Tracy” without someone in the vicinity having something to say about it, positive or negative.
“No problem, Alan,” Jeff answered before Alan could finish. He wasn’t offended in the slightest. Jeff knew what kind of presence he carried with him, especially after constantly being in the news for “coming back to life.” He was about to offer to stay in the car for Alan even because he knew he could disrupt the entire night if someone recognized him, so he was happy to have anything more than that.
Jeff couldn’t fault Alan for wanting a slice of normality before he dug his toes into their world. He clearly wanted to make a name for himself like Scott’s Air Force stint or Gordon’s gold medal, but everyone needed their moments to kick back and relax. To be your everyday common man that went home to recline on the couch and watch cheap TV dramas.
Alan sighed in relief, “Okay, cool, coolio… Thank you.” Alan began to step out of the car, “Now then, let’s get going. We don’t have all night!”
Jeff didn’t need to be told twice.
Standing carefully at the sidelines, Jeff watched as Alan put his skateboard down and rode it into the dip of the ring, voices echoing out as he disappeared.
“Dude, there you are!”
“We were wondering if you were going to show up.”
“I’ve been working on that trick I showed you last time!”
“That’s great to hear!” Alan’s voice finally jumped into the convo. “It’s not gonna be enough to beat me still, but I’m glad to see you’ve been trying!”
Jeff couldn’t help but quietly laugh at the sound of a bunch of voices playfully objecting.
After about two hours of watching Alan pull off some relatively cool tricks with his friends, Jeff was brought out of his thoughts by Alan waving and yelling goodbye, him soon popping over the edge of the ring with a big grin on his face. Jeff started turning around to head back to the car as Alan got closer, “Have fun down there?”
Alan nodded, absentmindedly spinning one of his skateboard wheels, “Definitely.”
The drive back was quiet. Jeff turned on the radio at a low volume when he noticed Alan drifting off. If he remembered correctly, when Alan had trouble sleeping as a small child, all they needed to do was play some gentle music and he would be out like a light. Finding a station with that kind of music, Jeff quickly learned that was still the case almost a decade later.
Then they were home, Jeff pulling the car back into the garage like absolutely nothing happened. Turning the vehicle off, Jeff took a second to push himself back into the seat with the steering wheel and stretch his muscles. After, he carefully reached over to shake Alan awake.
“Hey, wake up,” Jeff nudged his shoulder. “We’re home, and while I’d love to carry you back to bed like old times, I’m sure Scott will have my head on a pike for picking up anything more than twenty pounds.”
Alan murmured, rubbing his eyes before using one hand to grab his skateboard from the floor and one to open the door, “‘m up, ‘m up.”
Jeff chuckled, nearly mirroring his son as they got out of the car, shut their doors, and went to Alan’s room. As Alan continued onward, Jeff took a moment to pause in the living area and take a deep breath. He might not be perfect, but it was nice to know that space didn’t make him forget everything.
He eventually got to Alan’s room, the door still wide open, and when he leaned inside to see what Alan was up to he almost jumped. Alan’s shoes were shoved in the corner by his door, his skateboard haphazardly shoved into his closest, and his own self? Was curled up on the floor and leaning on the edge of the bed, only using a tiny part of the mattress as a pillow.
Jeff wasn’t sure if he should find the situation funny or not, “Do you… normally sleep like this?”
Alan shrugged, “Gr’ndma may not be able to cook but she p’cks nice rugs.”
“I suppose so,” Jeff couldn’t argue with that as he looked around the room for a blanket, eventually landing on a navy blue one dotted with white stars. He brought it over to Alan, gently draping it across his son’s shoulders. “Goodnight, Alan, try not to cramp those muscles too much
Alan grumbled but otherwise did not acknowledge Jeff’s words.
Shutting Alan’s door once outside, Jeff took a moment to stand there with one hand on the handle and the other resting lightly against its flat surface. He could practically feel the tension ooze out of his body. Tonight went… well. Great even. Jeff couldn’t be happier that he still knew how to click with his family despite feeling awkward and out of place. He’s already stated this.
He couldn’t help but feel like there was still a lot to do in their family, though. Sure, tonight went relatively okay, but there were still some noticeable bumps along the way. Jeff was sure to disappoint his sons as sure as his sons were probably worried about disappointing him. Eight years of separation was not going to be fixed quietly if it could be fixed at all.
But Jeff knew they would try their best to get there eventually.
Jeff would take part in multiple midnight skatepark visits if it meant he wasn’t giving up just yet.
#thunderbirds#jeff tracy#alan tracy#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds 2015#tag minibang#tagminibang#tag minibang 2022#halo be writin#fandom: thunderbirds#fic status: complete
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Triptych 1: A Missing of the Minds (Dresden/Amalgam Cross-Over)
Kitty would not admit it, but she always felt a little sick whenever she met a new alternate version of herself. Sometimes she could get over the feeling (meeting the Lightning Force version of herself had just made her sad and angry, and the Age of Apocalypse one had been a good friend once they got over the initial awkwardness) and sometimes she couldn’t (if she never met the Black Queen version again it would be too soon).
She hadn’t made up her mind about the newest set of dimension-hoppers. A wealthy, refined (or at least could put up a good facade) Logan who was best known for always being prepared and a good hand with technology? Jubilee leading her own team . . . and not a vampire? Yana focusing almost exclusively on white magic? Heck, at least their version of Piotr was almost exactly the same as the one she’d grown up with. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have known what to think.
Frankly, it was that universe’s alternates of herself and Kurt that made her most uncomfortable. It was like looking at a pair of exaggerated caricatures. Nightcreeper was older, larger and more beastlike than her Kurt. Colombina was younger, smaller and a shrinking violet compared to herself. Not to mention the two of them stuck together like glue. Kitty had never liked Beauty and the Beast comparisons for herself and Kurt, but that was the only thing that popped into her head whenever she saw the other pair.
“I think I may have offended Nightcreeper.” Kitty looked up from her tablet at Kurt. He was running his hand through the hair on his head. It was growing out from the crew cut and the curls were starting to show up again.
“How so?”
“Well, I remembered how well the thing with the Age of Apocalypse versions of us went so . . . got a very long lecture from the Creep about fidelity and consent and how I shouldn’t blatantly cheat when I’m clearly in a relationship with you. I think when I said sex he thought I was trying to proposition Colombina-”
She smiled with amusement. “Which you were.”
“-behind your back. I didn’t even get to the part about the menage a trois before he jumped in. Literally, he landed on my back. I’m lucky I’m as flexible as I am otherwise I’m pretty sure he would have done a lot more damage.”
“Ouch! He’s got to be at least 185 centimeters tall and he’s built. Want me to massage your back?”
“Yes, please.” Kitty heated up the paraffin bath and got out the oils and latex gloves. As Kurt stripped down and she waited for the bath to heat up she mused aloud. “I’ll go and apologize to them tonight. I’ve got first the twilight patrol so if I go right after, I’ll probably catch them just before they go to sleep.”
Kitty yawned but continued determinedly to the guest wing. One last thing and then she could go to bed. When she got to the room assigned to the girls from Jump City (she wondered what the equivalent city in this world was) she slowed then stopped. There was a thick haze of lust in the air, heavy enough that she could feed on it if she so chose.
The former X-Woman flushed. Were Sparrow and Colombina in a relationship? She didn’t think of Jubilee in that manner, but they were from an alternate universe. She should go and apologize to the Nightcreeper first.
Before she could leave she heard voices from beyond the door. One she recognized as Colombina, the other sounded like Nightcreeper. What was he doing in the room? And that overwhelming feeling of lust and jealousy? Now worried, Kitty put her hand on the doorknob. She could just phase in but she wanted to make as big a scene as possible.
“Oh man, are Ryder and Kitty still going at it?” Martenitsi’s voice interrupted her. Kitty whirled around to look at the other two female members of the Misfits.
“You know how jealous Ryder gets. Kitty’s gonna be lucky if he lets her get any sleep tonight.” Sparrow noticed Shadowcat standing in front of the door. “Oh hey, we were just looking for you. Is there any way the two of us could get a separate room?”
“I could do that,” she answered absently. Then realizing she could get some more information, “The two of them are in a relationship?”
She received two confused looks in return. “Aren’t you and Nightcreeper- sorry, Nightcrawler in a relationship? You weren’t exactly trying to hide it. Speaking of which, you should know he tried to proposition Colombina earlier today.”
“We’re in an open relationship.” The answer came automatically. “But isn't he a little too old for her? Kurt and I are only two years apart. Colombina looks quite a bit younger than I do and Nightcreeper looks quite a bit older than Kurt.”
Sparrow took it upon herself to argue with her, while Martenitsi stayed a few feet back to watch. “They’re only twelve years apart. And Kitty’s twenty-two, she’s old enough to make her own decisions. And how old could you possibly be, you look seventeen! You can’t possibly be older than our Colombina.”
“I’m twenty-four,” she responded dryly. “So he’s not taking advantage of her?”
“She’s got the same abilities as you do. If she really objected, she could just phase out of his reach.”
“You can take advantage of people in ways that don’t involve physical force. Again, is this relationship really voluntary on both sides? He’s not manipulating her or anything?”
“You seem to have this strange idea that she’s an innocent to be protected. It’s not like he took her virginity and that makes her his property or anything.”
“Sexual experience is no guarantee that you can’t be pressured into a relationship. Believe me, I’m very well versed in the concept of ‘dubious consent’.”
Sparrow sighed. “Look, let me put it this way. How many people have you killed?”
Now, this was a strange turn in the conversation. “A few. Less than a dozen, even if you count the robots.”
“And how many people has your Nightcreeper- Nightcrawler, I swear I’m going to get that right someday, killed?”
“Just one and it was in self-defense.”
The Asian pointed into the room. “Nightcreeper, body count: zero. Colombina, body count: Unknown but definitely over fifty.”
Well, that put a different spin on things. While Kitty digested this new piece of information (that shy little thing had a body count that could match Wolverine!) a very familiar moan came from behind the closed door. After a few seconds, she could hear the Nightcreeper talking again.
“We’re not done yet, liebling. I’m not going to be satisfied until you know who you belong to down to your very bones.”
“I’m not (pant, pant) . . . I didn’t-” Colombina cried out, a noise that Kitty knew didn’t mean she was in pain.
“Next time you won’t test me, right? You’ll turn down that offer right away rather than having me speak for you, richtig?”
“Really? Because that doesn’t sound very loving to me.”
The two Misfits blushed. “He’s not always like that,” put in the blonde. “He just gets really uninhibited in this form. If he was in his civilian identity, he’d be so embarrassed that we’re listening in right now.”
“Civilian identity?”
“Sure! I mean yours doesn’t go around with blue fur and gold eyes all the time, does he?” A pregnant pause. “Oh my god, you mean he always looks like that? It’s not an effect of the chemicals?”
“Technically, the Creep’s in his natural form right now,” piped up Sparrow. “He needs a patch to bring his body back to human baseline. But the point is, Kurt Ryder is the original, not Nightcreeper.”
This was so confusing.
“Oh God, Kurt!”
“So, a new room!” Kitty brought her hands together with a clap. Time to change the subject. “Somewhere far from the noise I take it?”
“Please!”
“I think I owe the two of you an apology.” Nightcreeper had staked his claim rather flamboyantly this morning by pulling Colombina into his lap and feeding her by hand. Colombina had blushed but gone along willingly.
“You don’t owe anyone an apology, your boyfriend owes you an apology for his rampant infidelity.” Colombina straightened up to look her counterpart in the eye.
“Yeah, I do. We’ve got an open relationship and I’m aware of what he’s doing so he’s not cheating. In any case, he was asking on my behalf, not his own.”
“Yours?”
“Let’s just say it’s one of the differences between your world and mine.” She could see the cloud of confusion coming from both of them. “I know your group is hiding things, so let’s just say it’s one of Excalibur’s secrets in return.
“But anyway, what I want you to know is that we’re both sorry for making you uncomfortable and no one’s going to expect anything from the two of you. If there’s anything I can do to make up for this-”
“Actually I have an idea!” The green man interrupted. “I heard you had something called a Danger Room, worked a bit like those holodecks in Star Trek.”
“Lord of the Rings crossed with Pirates of the Caribbean. He’s definitely your counterpart, Kurt.”
“But you can’t say you’re not having fun, Katzchen!”
#dresdenverse#amalgam!verse#Kitty Pryde#Shadowcat#white court vampire kitty#kurt ryder#nightcreeper#colombina#Amalgam misfits accidently teleported to Dresden!verse and are now stuck trying to get home#years spent dead do not count towards your age here#dark claw actually does have a few extra patches on him#but the misfits don't fully trust excalibur#so nightcreeper's more useful than ryder in this situation#sparrow#martenitsi#they don't seem to have the Danger Room in Amalgam!verse#CrossOver
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between the lines | lee minho
𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒!𝐀𝐔
✑ Late fines, shared lockers, and a missing love letter:
In which a frantic search for an overdue library book leads to you finding other things that are...long overdue.
✑ PAIRING: student librarian!minho x bookworm!reader
✑ GENRE: retro!high school au, slow burn, slice-of-life romance, slight enemies-to-lovers shenanigans
✑ WORD COUNT: 9.7k
✖︎ TAGS/WARNINGS: fem!reader, mild language, bullying themes, skz are all around the same age. mc is insecure and a bit of a valentine's day grinch. minho is whipped but too hardheaded to admit it. also, an embarrassing amount of classic literature/pablo neruda references.
Ah, Valentine’s Day.
Call it the most romantic day of the year if you will, but in the treacherous hallways of Levanter High, it meant a minefield of hormonal couples, crushed chocolate boxes, and supermarket rose bouquets. Clutching your backpack with a grimace, you narrowly dodged a pigtailed cheerleader as she leapt into her jock boyfriend’s waiting arms. Turning into another hallway, you plugged your ears to block out a senior boy’s cold rejection of a freshman’s nervous love confession.
You finally caught sight of your locker and breathed a sigh of relief. Levanter High’s lockers were split in half lengthwise—one top row, and one bottom row. You dropped to a crouch to wrench yours open—you’d lost your lock a couple of weeks ago—trying to block out the early morning commotion as you rummaged for your English books.
“Hey, watch ou—”
The locker above yours opened with a screech, and you looked up just in time to see a pink avalanche of cards and chocolates raining down on your head in a painful, deafening crash. The student who had called out the warning was frozen with a comical look of shock on her face. You swore the entire hallway fell silent, blood rushing to your cheeks as you slowly raised your gaze at the person who had opened the locker.
Lee Hana—head cheerleader of Levanter’s pep squad, and in your humble opinion, the spawn of Satan herself.
“Ohmigosh,” she exclaimed, raising one hand to her mouth in mock horror, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.”
The crowd around you was beginning to snicker and point, and you felt your face growing redder by the minute. “What are you doing here?” You asked tersely, motioning towards the locker above yours. “That’s not even your locker.”
Hana smiled and held up a small, glittery package. Oh. You didn’t have to look closer to know that the envelope was a love letter, elaborately tied to a box of expensive chocolates—the kind your parents would probably have to work overtime to afford. “My Valentine—for your locker buddy,” Hana replied matter-of-factly, then added, “Not that you would understand, hm? Since you’ve never received one yourself, and all.”
A smattering of laughs erupted from the crowd that was building around you. Biting back a retort, you looked down at all the other Valentine’s trinkets that had spilled around you. Of course—you should have gotten used to it by now. After all, your locker was right underneath the one that belonged to the student librarian, school heartthrob, and the absolute bane of your existence, Lee—
“Minho!” Hana exclaimed, and you looked up to see him shuffling through the crowd, his eyes briefly falling on yours. You immediately turned away as the pretty cheerleader skipped up to him, and shoved your books into your bag. Slamming your locker shut—twice, because Levanter’s damned lockers always jammed before shutting properly—you snatched up as many of Minho’s fallen Valentine’s Day trinkets as you could before shoving them back into the now-emptied top locker. The metal door was still swinging wide open. You’d overheard Minho complaining to the boy who always did the announcements—Han Jihyun? Han Jisung?—about how he kept losing his own lock. Both of you seemed to have a habit of misplacing things (not that you liked to admit to that similarity).
Out of the corner of your eye, Minho was still watching you over Hana’s shoulder, his lips tilted in a half-smile. Your gut twisted unpleasantly. Four years and counting—that was how long you’d ended up with a locker right under Minho’s.
“You’re so lucky!” Lia—your best friend—had gushed, while you had scoffed in utter disbelief.
“Oh, sure. Just my rotten luck.”
“Come on, y/n. Are you still hung up about that love letter from freshman year?”
Yes, you had thought sourly. “No way,” you had snapped, and Lia had giggled, unconvinced.
It wasn’t like you’d always had a personal vendetta against Minho. In fact, in ninth grade, you’d been head over heels for him, just like the rest of the student body—to the point where you’d even slipped a small love letter into his locker on Valentine’s Day, too. It had been one of those gaudy 99-cent corner-store cards, and you'd saved up your pocket money just to buy a matching pack of candy hearts. Then you’d spent the day with butterflies in your stomach, anxiously waiting nearby his locker to see his reaction.
But when he hadn’t shown up, you'd shrugged and begun heading home—and that was when you had caught sight of Minho, throwing all the love letters he’d received straight into the Dumpsters in the back parking lot.
Talk about a reality check.
As if that hadn't been traumatizing enough, you’d been forced to face him nearly every morning for the following three years. To make matters worse, being Minho’s involuntary locker mate also meant that all the girls—and guys, for that matter—saw you as little more than a stepping stone to him, always asking you to relay party invitations or trying to curry favour with you to get to him.
“We’re not close,” you’d insist to his persistent admirers every time, but it didn’t help. Minho, on the other hand, you thought bitterly, seemed to think he was too good for anyone—he didn’t even respond much to Hana’s advances, and she was drop-dead gorgeous. There was no way he’d even look twice at you—you’d been firsthand witness to that. You finally gave up trying to clean up the fallen Valentines, and stood up with a sigh. Throwing him a death glare, you pushed past the crowd just as the bell rang and students began scurrying away.
What did it matter if Lee Hana was trying to get with Minho? If anything, they were a match made in heaven. Or hell. With a decided huff, you plopped yourself down at your desk just as your English teacher began class.
“We’re starting the poetry unit today! Remember, you’ll be writing a love poem of your own for the final project—so I suggest you all get started on reading!” You teacher had winked and clapped her hands excitedly while a collective groan had swept through your class. A few couples had nudged each other meaningfully, already promising to write their poems about each other, and you’d thrown up a little in your mouth.
Romance was a bit of a touchy subject for you— now, you didn’t hate the notion of love, per se, you’d just always been somewhat...wary of it. After watching your friends fall in and out of disastrous relationships and fleeting feelings from the sidelines too many times to count, your own defense mechanisms had skyrocketed, and now you found yourself trying not to roll your eyes at every piece of romantic writing you read. Still, this inexperience only made you more determined to get a head start on the topic— and so, once the last bell had rung, you made a beeline for the school library. You would tackle love the only way you knew how to—by hitting the books. Pushing open the door, you overheard Hana and her friends muttering in disappointment and immediately recoiled.
“You said he’d be in here!”
“Well, I thought I saw him! Let’s wait for a bit.”
You peeked over the librarian’s desk, and sure enough, it was vacant— save for a tray of half-shelved books and stamping cards. Maybe Minho left early today, you thought, shrugging. That’s a relief. Then you shook your head quickly. What’s it to me whether he’s here or not? You tried to ignore Hana’s disdainful glance at you, heading straight towards your favourite nook at the back of the library instead: a cozy alcove tucked behind the last row of shelves. With a deep sigh, you pulled out the first book of poetry your teacher had assigned—Shakespeare’s Complete Sonnets—and sank into the bean bag chair.
‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May…’
A couple lines in, and the Englishman’s words were already making your head spin. You grimaced, massaging your temples. ‘A summer’s day?’ Seriously? You could swear you’d seen something less cheesy on a dollar store card. After a couple of pages, you could already feel your treacherous eyelids beginning to droop, fighting to stay awake as you tried to make sense of Shakespeare’s verses. But thy eternal summer...shall not fade...nor lose...possession…
“The library’s closing.”
You jolted awake, hands fumbling blindly before you could even force your eyes open. The library came into focus first—the lights had been dimmed, the flickering EXIT sign from the empty hallway casting a warm glow through the panelled window across the room. A dull headache still throbbed in your temples.
“Sorry,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes groggily. You had to practically peel your cheek away from the Shakespeare book, fingers gingerly feeling the dent the cover had left in your cheek. “I-I’m so sorry, I must have—lost track of time studying.”
A familiar chuckle sent your heart plummeting to your stomach. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
When your eyes finally adjusted, your expression automatically soured into a glare.
“Now that’s more like it.” Smirking, Minho crossed his arms, leaning back on a bookshelf. He glanced down at the book in your lap—the book that you clearly hadn’t been studying. “Didn’t know you were one for Shakespeare.”
“I—” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not. His writing gives me a headache. It’s like it’s all in another language or something.”
Minho raised an eyebrow. “Old English. Why are you reading it, then?”
“We’re doing poetry in class—and our final project is to write an actual love poem, based on the poets we’ll study. Shakespeare was just first on the reading list, so…” you felt yourself trailing off, flustered. Why were you even bothering to explain this to Minho, who probably couldn’t care less? “Nevermind.”
You felt his piercing gaze on you as you shoved your books into your bag, glancing outside at the nearly emptied parking lot. If you squinted, you could spot a couple—Seo Changbin, judging by the male’s iconic leather jacket, and his lover—making out under the bleachers. You shook your head incredulously. Valentine’s Day. Love poems. Hormonal couples galore. It was like the universe was playing a long, cruel joke on you: Ha-ha, look who’s spending Valentine’s Day studying in the library alone.
Well, alone except for a student librarian with whom you had a mortifying history. Not much better. Eager to leave, you got to your feet, only to see Minho flipping through a smaller book he’d pulled off the shelf next to him. “If you want some real inspiration,” he began slowly, pushing up his glasses, “I’d suggest you start closer to our time period.”
You looked down at the book he was holding up, brow furrowing as you read the title out loud. “Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. Pablo Neruda.”
“The best Chilean poet of the 20th century,” he nodded. “‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving but this.’”
It took you a second to realise Minho was quoting a poem, and you were suddenly grateful that the dimly lit library hid the flush of red that had betrayed your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you mumbled, “That actually sounds...kind of pretty.”
He didn’t look up, but you thought you saw the corners of his mouth shoot up ever so slightly. Maybe the shadows were playing tricks on you? Flipping through the book, Minho fished out a pad of sticky notes from his back pocket and marked a few pages. “Here. ‘The Song of Despair’...‘Tonight I Can Write’...‘Here I Love You.’ Those are good.” Clamping the book shut, he held it out towards you.
You almost thanked him, but the words faltered on your tongue as you took it from him suspiciously. “What’s with the sudden helpful attitude?”
He shrugged. “It’s my job.” You raised an incredulous eyebrow, and he smirked. “Consider it my apology for this morning, then.”
That left you at a real loss for words, and for the first time, you struggled to find a retort. “That’s...considerate of you, apologising on behalf of your girlfriend and all.”
“Hana’s not my girlfriend.”
You breathed a small laugh. “Soon-to-be, then. Don’t break her heart.”
Minho scoffed, bringing the book to the front desk and scrawling your name on the sign-out card. He stamped the dates, then held it out at you before glancing out the window. Dusk had fallen, the empty football field lit only by rows of flickering lampposts. “You can get home safe?”
“Screw off, Lee Minho.” You eyed him warily, shoving the book into your bag before practically running to the double doors. The strange atmosphere that had suddenly built up in the library felt terrifyingly foreign to you, and your first instinct was to be rid of it as soon as possible. In the hallway, you spotted a janitor dumping a bin into a trash bag. A familiar avalanche of pink envelopes and gifts caught your eye, and you felt a wave of humiliation. Just the memory of Minho throwing yours out—after reading it and having a good laugh, no doubt—made you want to ram your head into the lockers all over again. You’ve got no chance with him, y/n, you thought blearily. Right when you’d thought you’d finally come to terms with Minho’s brutal (albeit unintentional) rejection, here he was again: crashing back into your life like some...cat-eyed, pointy-nosed meteor.
“Oh, y/n! One more thing.”
You’d already had one foot out the front door when Minho called your name again, making you jerk your head back in surprise. Minho had his bag slung over one shoulder, a pile of books in his arms as he waved to get your attention. His smile looked almost...genuine in the warm shadows, his round glasses softening his usually sharp gaze. Despite yourself, you felt your heart skip a beat.
Then Minho made a wiping motion over his face and grinned. “You’ve got drool on your chin.”
Your face reddened, and you slammed the library door shut, earning a glare from the janitor down the hall. Smacking the heel of your palm against your forehead repeatedly, you stormed out of the school muttering curses under your breath. Typical Lee Minho.
To your surprise, you practically devoured the poems in less than a week, taken aback at how much you genuinely enjoyed them. It was the first time you didn’t find yourself cringing at romance—and sure enough, in a couple days’ time, you found yourself reluctantly standing back in front of the double doors of the school library once again.
Carefully, you craned your head to peep into the panelled window, scanning the room for Minho. As per usual, a gaggle of girls were huddled on the other side, blocking your view.
“Looking for someone?”
Flinching, you nearly tripped on Hana’s long legs as she came up beside you. Before you could respond, she fixed you with a withering look. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Little Miss Perfect.”
“I—sorry?”
The cheerleader rolled her eyes, sneering. “Don’t act all innocent with me, you sneaky b—”
Sighing, you pushed open the doors before she could finish. Hana followed you into the library, still sputtering angrily. Her hand snatched your arm, French manicure digging painfully into your cardigan.
“The Valentines,” she hissed, and it finally clicked.
She’s talking about the love letters, you realized. The ones Minho throws out every year.
Gut twisting, you looked up to see all the other girls crossing their arms and looking back at you expectantly. “None of you...got a response?” You asked incredulously, already knowing the answer. This happened every year: Expectant admirers showered Minho’s locker with gifts, Minho wouldn’t even glance at them— and then, for some reason, you were left to take the blame. A twinge of annoyance shot through your chest.
“You stole them from his locker, didn’t you?” Hana continued accusingly, pupils shaking. “You sneaky, jealous bitch— of course you did.”
He threw them all out, you wanted to scream back at her, but the words wouldn’t budge from your tongue. Somehow, saying them out loud felt like tearing off the stitches of an old wound; a painful reminder of your personal humiliating memory. And—though you hated to admit it—a small part of you still didn’t have the heart to throw Minho under the bus just yet, even after all that he’d done.
Feeling defeated, you sighed and turned towards her. “Why would I want to do that?”
Hana scoffed, tossing her chocolate curls over one shoulder. “Oh, please. We all know you’ve had a massive one-sided crush on him since ninth grade.”
A rush of heat flooded your cheeks, the other girls’ snickers at your reaction drowning out any of your protests. “That’s not—”
“Not true? Then—is it mutual?” Hana sneered mockingly. “Don’t make me laugh. He wouldn’t be caught dead with the likes of y—”
“Can I help you with anything?”
The small crowd fell silent as Minho appeared from one of the aisles, eyebrows raised slightly in his usual nonchalant manner. A chill of panic rushed down your spine, palms growing clammy with cold sweat. H-how much did he overhear? In your peripheral, Hana was practically batting her eyelashes at him, but Minho’s mild eyes were focused on yours expectantly.
“I—uh. Well,” you stammered eloquently, your entire body suddenly paralyzed. Hana’s cherry red lips were twisted in a smug smirk, clearly waiting for you to embarrass yourself. “The book,” you blurted, immediately rummaging for the poetry book in your bag and holding it out to him.
Minho took it from you, fingertips grazing yours slightly. They were surprisingly warm. “How’d you find it?”
“R-really good, actually.” Then, you hesitantly added, “I...like the way Neruda uses imagery—he’s precise without being plain, and artful without deviating too much into purple prose. I think I liked Tonight I Can Write the most— y’know, ‘Tonight I can write the saddest lines...’” You swallowed, then instantly began regretting having ever spoken. Great job, y/n, now you sound like a full-blown nerd.
But Minho nodded, his eyes gleaming. “‘I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me, too.’”
“That’s the second verse,” you muttered automatically, and his lips twitched.
“It’s one of my favourite lines.”
The other girls had begun to awkwardly shuffle out of the library, their absence easing your racing heart. With just a few mildly spoken words, you noted, Minho had managed to make you feel as though you had blocked out the rest of the world. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Hana glaring daggers at you, and the small smile dropped from your face.
“Do you need something?” Minho asked her blankly, his gaze trailing down to Hana’s hand, which was still painfully latched onto your arm. With a roll of her eyes, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the library.
As soon as she was gone, you breathed an audible sigh of relief. Minho was peeling the sticky notes off from the poetry book you’d returned, eyes still watching you intently. Giving him the side-eye, you deadpanned, “She’s pretty, you know. Maybe you should go talk to her sometime.”
There was a small smile on Minho’s lips. “Does she like Chilean poetry?”
You could only give a short—slightly too shaky for your liking—laugh in response, ruffling your own hair as you tried to calm your frazzled nerves. Don’t forget, y/n. One, that he’s out of your league. Two, how this was all his fault to begin with.
“Is that all you came here for?” Minho’s voice broke into your thoughts again, making you jump. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He finds this—me—amusing.
“Well…” you looked down at your feet, then grudgingly nodded at the poetry book you’d just returned. “Do you...have any other recommendations?”
Minho’s face broke into a shit-eating grin, and you bit back a groan. before your pride got the better of you and you changed your mind, he was already heading towards the back of the library, sliding books out as you struggled to keep with his pace. “First of all, Dickinson. Hit-or-miss, but you never know. Then there’s Sylvia Plath, some Emily Brontë…”
Before you knew it, you’d been whisked into a world of verse and metaphor, flying between numerous time periods and continents as you and Minho perused the shelves. Just like the time when you had accidentally fallen asleep in the library, the library seemed to grow cozier, quieter, more peaceful during moments like these, as if the entire world was holding still as you lost yourself in pages upon pages of books. Soon, you found yourself heading to the library nearly every day after school. Despite yourself, you found yourself looking forward to that sunset hour, the fleeting period where most students had left, and the entire library would glow warm as though it were blushing under the swathes of golden light. And in these same fleeting moments, you found your gaze lingering more and more on Minho—the way he would push his silver glasses on, furrowing his brow in concentration whenever he searched for a book, or run his long fingers over their worn spines whenever he was lost in thought—
“Like what you see?” With a flinch, you realised Minho had begun walking back towards you, a crooked smirk on his lips as he set a new pile of books down at the desk you were sat at.
“No!” You snapped, too quickly. “Just—spaced out for a bit. Too concentrated on the project.”
The smirk hadn’t budged from Minho’s face, and you resisted the urge to throw a copy of Emily Dickinson’s Selected Poems at his long, pointy nose. “Mm. You seem to be coming here a lot more often.”
“That’s because the due date is coming up.”
“No. I mean, you seem to be talking to me a lot more.”
You rolled your eyes, snatching a book from the top of his pile as you muttered, “Screw you, Lee Minho.”
His eyebrows shot up in wicked mischief. “You’re more than welcome to try.”
With a cry of exasperation—and surprise at having been heard—you hoisted your book bag onto the table, building a makeshift wall between the two of you.
You didn’t catch the way Minho’s laughter slowly faded as he rested his head on one hand thoughtfully, quietly watching you read. Your lips were pursed in concentration as you muttered your notes under your breath. Cute, he couldn’t help thinking.
Minho had always been good at memorizing things, but he couldn’t remember exactly when you’d begun disliking him so much. You had always intrigued him—what with the way your locker always seemed to be overflowing with books, or how you used to lend him your copy when he forgot his, back in ninth grade. That Valentine’s Day, four years ago, your name had been the only one he’d hoped to find as he rifled through the cards he’d received. But he’d come up empty, and so he’d thrown them all out. And for some reason, you’d been cold to him ever since.
Minho had assumed that you were probably annoyed with all the letters that would fall out of his locker and onto you, and so every year he tried his best to get rid of the Valentines as soon as possible. Nevertheless, you only seemed to be getting more and more annoyed with him.
And now here you were, right in front of him, four years later, and he still couldn’t bring himself to ask you why. Confrontation had never been his strong suit—his words always seemed to come out too blunt, too cold, too soon, and so he’d always avoided bringing it up with you again. Minho sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Written words—that is, books—had always been so much easier than people.
He did, however, remember when he’d started falling for you.
Tenth grade, literature studies. He’d begun arguing against your thesis during one of your presentations, and the two of you had ended up bickering the entire class—pulling out quotes from nearly every chapter of Pride and Prejudice before the class president had to intervene, and your teacher had sent you both to detention.
You had glared at him once, and he’d fallen head over heels.
These violent delights have violent ends, he’d mused in his head back then—Romeo and Juliet—and with the murderous stare Minho sometimes caught you fixing him with, he was willing to bet that you were wishing a violent end on him, too.
He couldn’t pen a love letter to save his life, either— and so, he resorted to pettily glaring at any admirer that approached your locker like Gandalf—you shall not pass—until they backed off. Minho didn’t think you would appreciate him revealing that, either. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous his actions seemed—and like a poorly written plot twist, you had ended up stumbling back into his life again. Never in his life, however, did Minho think that Pablo Neruda would become his wingman. Glancing down at his portrait on the back cover of the book, Minho could almost imagine the Chilean poet pointing his pen threateningly: “Don’t screw this up.”
“Hey, Minho?” He snapped out of his thoughts to see you waving your hand at him from the other side of your book bag. “You were right. I don’t get any of Dickinson’s poems.”
Your words took a moment to register, Minho caught off-guard by the soft golden hour light illuminating your pretty features. You waved your hand in his face again, and he blinked, breath caught in his throat. Almost tripping over his tongue, he finally quipped, “How on earth are you passing AP English?”
You glowered and smacked his shoulder, the near-silent library ringing with Minho’s laughter once again.
With a week left to the deadline, you were planted at your desk in your room, the wastebasket littered with crumpled up half-sheets of notebook paper. To your dismay, none of the words seemed to be coming out the way you wanted them to. Gnawing the back of your pencil in frustration, you dumped the contents of your book bag onto the desk, and spotted your latest library book—100 Love Sonnets, by Pablo Neruda. Inexplicably, out of all the poets Minho had introduced to you, you always found yourself coming back to him.
Flipping through the well-thumbed pages, your fingers stopped at one titled Sonnet XVII. “I love you without knowing how,” your eyes scanned the verse curiously, “or when, or from where. I love you simply…”
It was the poem Minho had quoted that evening in the library, you realized, heart skipping a beat. “...without problems or pride / I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving / but this, in which there is no I or you / so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand / so intimate that when I fall asleep, your eyes close.”
With a sigh, you buried your head in your arms, lying face-down onto the desk. Maybe the reason why you instinctively disliked reading love poems so much was because of the sheer sincerity of them all. You envied their ability to put feelings into words—with unabashed, unapologetic ardour, and be celebrated for it, to boot. Eyes scanning the verses again, your mind wandered to the way Minho’s eyes had lit up as he’d explained the lines to you, his brow furrowed in focus.
At Levanter High, you had grown used to being pushed around and out of the spotlight. It was either the popular girls and their backhanded compliments, or the boys who spoke to you condescendingly just to a) get you to do their homework, or b) get in your pants. But Minho had always taken you seriously, albeit while driving you half-insane with his infuriating remarks. And as much as you hated to admit it, that same fiery look in his eyes whenever he got worked up—so different from his usual reserved facade in front of the teachers and swooning students—had always made your heart skip a beat. In tenth grade—back when he seemed to pick a fight with you nearly every English class until Bang Chan had to hold the two of you back from killing each other—you’d thought you’d successfully quashed your feelings for the mild-voiced, hazel-eyed librarian. Yet every time he spoke, he left you feeling vulnerable, disarmed, and you were back—though you refused to admit it—to square one.
“‘I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul,’” you whispered, fingers tracing the words on the paper. Feeling a sudden surge—of confidence, or simply exasperation, you weren’t sure—you seized the pen and began scribbling on a new piece of paper. For years, you’d been afraid to face your feelings, terrified of the humiliation if Hana—or anyone at school—found out. But if getting them all out in one cheesy, hot mess of a love letter could give you some closure, you thought tensely, you were more than happy to oblige. You would write it all out under the guise of a love poem, and then it would never have to see the light of day again.
Words began coming to your head like a floodgate had been thrown wide open, and you began scrawling onto the page. “‘I love you as the plant that never blooms, but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers,’” you quoted thoughtfully as you drafted your own poem. In a way, it felt cathartic—you could get all your feelings out, pass it off as an assignment, and never think about the forbidden fruit again. For all you knew, it was a win-win situation. The pen kept wobbling, ink spilling out haphazardly and skipping, but you relaxed slightly. Maybe this assignment wasn’t too bad, after all.
Head filled to the brim with poetry, you set the pen down and dozed off.
“You’re not coming to the football game?” Lia flashed puppy eyes at you, and you smacked her hand playfully, swiping a french fry from her plate.
“Lia, since when have I ever gone to one?” The two of you had dropped by the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe for a quick pick-me-up during lunch hour, but one smile from the cute waiter—Yang Jeongin, if you remembered his name correctly—had dazzled Lia into ordering an extra burger combo, complete with a plate of fries. “Sports and crowds—not my thing. And I have an English project due the next day.”
She pouted. “Oh, come on! Knowing you, you’ve probably already finished it by now.”
You grinned, thinking back to your love poem and fighting the urge to cringe. You’d read it the morning after, and it had taken every fibre in your being to hold yourself back from ripping it to shreds. Piercing, catlike eyes, you’d written in one line. Silver spectacles. Long fingers on dusty pages. Shuddering, you’d stuffed it into the Neruda book before banishing them both to your locker and going about your day. Love poems are supposed to be cheesy, y/n, suck it up. It’ll only be this one time. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone other than your teacher would ever read it.
When you dropped by the library after school, you spotted Hana’s familiar figure by one of the cubicles. As she tossed her hair over her shoulder with a laugh muted by the plexiglass windows, you saw that she was talking to a grinning Minho.
“Are you sure you’re not coming to the game on Thursday?” Hana was whining as you pushed open the doors to the library. She patted his arms playfully. “You could be on the football team if you wanted to, you know! Why don’t you try?”
He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not that quick on my feet.”
“Well, tell you what. They’re having a party at Hyunjin’s place right after—his parents are out of town. If you don’t feel like coming to the game, at least join us at the afterparty to loosen up a little—have a little fun.” She blew him a kiss and stood, throwing her purse over her shoulder and spotting you. You instinctively froze, bracing yourself for whatever slew of insults she had for you today, but all Hana did was beam and wave at you.
As she passed you by the door, she threw you a knowing wink. “Have fun on your little study date!”
Her words made your ears grow hot again, but to your surprise, there was no trace of venom in her voice — only a lighthearted teasing, as if she had been your friend all along. Hana really did look sweet when she smiled genuinely, and you could see why she had so many people easily wrapped around her finger. Maybe people do change. Or she’s just in a good mood. Before you could shrug and turn away, you sensed Minho’s presence behind you and yelped.
He held his hands up in mock surrender, and you could swear he was suppressing a laugh. “Here to work on your project again?”
Hana’s strange exchange with you on her way out had left your mind reeling, and you scrambled to form coherent sentences. “No, I, um—I actually finished it last night. I just…” Thought I’d just drop by to say hi. But your pride turned the words to mush before they had even formed, and you ended up trailing off awkwardly.
“Really?” There was a flash of disappointment in his face, then Minho’s gaze landed on the book-borrowing register on the front desk. “Right—your book is due today. Did you want to return it?”
Your eyes widened, silently cursing at your own forgetfulness. “Um—yes,” you lied, pretending to search in your bag before giving an awkward laugh. “Yep. I think it’s in my locker—let me go get it.”
After jogging to the other side of the school, you flung open the bottom locker, making another mental note to replace your missing lock. Still catching your breath, your hand sifted through the notes and textbooks before coming up empty. Where is it? You could swear you remembered putting it there, unless—
Breath catching in your throat, you shut the locker with a mortified bang. The English classroom. You practically sprinted down the hallways, earning another dirty look from the janitor as you raced past. Bang Chan looked up in alarm when you nearly crashed into the English classroom door. The entire room was empty, save for the class president, who looked like he was helping to file the teacher’s papers.
“Where’s the fire?” He asked jokingly as your eyes frantically raked the room.
“Have you—seen a book, by any chance? 100 Love Sonnets. Pablo Neruda.”
Chan frowned. “We shelve all the books after class, and if it’s one we don’t recognize, we keep it until the students come back in the morning.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember seeing anything.”
Your heart sank, and you saw the corners of Chan’s mouth lift bemusedly.
“What’s the hurry, anyway? I thought you hated love po—”
With a groan of frustration, you left the baffled class president staring after you as you turned on your heel and back into the hallway. Your mind was racing, panic making your ears buzz. The love letter’s in there. Where the hell did I put it? You sprinted to the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe next, but only got an apologetic shrug from Jeongin even after you’d scoured every nook and cranny of the diner. The sun was already beginning to set as you trudged, defeated, back to the school. Spotting the library’s dim windows in the distance, you wrestled with your options — if it weren’t for that cursed love letter, you could’ve probably just told Minho you’d misplaced it. But now the book—along with everything you’d never dared to tell anyone, crammed onto a sheet of notebook paper—could be anywhere, and there was no way in hell you were going to stop looking until you found it. Heart heavy with dread, you did a full 180 and began walking home.
It was no use. You’d practically pulled an all-nighter tearing your room apart searching for the book— and then, the better part of the following day running around town. But no matter where you looked—the record shop, Blockbuster’s, or even the laundromat—you came up empty.
It’s like it’s disappeared entirely, you thought as the lunch ladies piled your tray with a few sad-looking burritos. The cafeteria was buzzing with teenagers jittery with caffeine and sugar, and you had to duck as a boy chucked an apple at another across the room. You passed the cheerleaders’ table, trying to avoid eye contact, but their giggly conversation carried over the chaotic commotion.
“Did you see how cute Hyunjin looked today on the field?”
“Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend? Maybe Hana can talk to him for us—if he doesn’t fall for her first.” The blonde cheerleader that had spoken nudged the older girl insistently.
“Me?” There was a smile in Hana’s voice. You could feel her eyes on you as she mused, “Oh, I don’t know, Hyunjin’s not my type. I much prefer boys with—how should I put it—catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long fingers perfect for turning dusty pages…” She clasped her hands together in mock adoration, and her friends erupted in giggles.
“What the hell was that? Sounds like a cheesy love poem.”
You had frozen stiff as soon as she had uttered the words, stunned eyes finding Hana’s only a couple feet away. She gave you a winning smile—the same one you’d deemed friendly just a couple days ago—and winked.
“Give me my book back.”
You pulled her aside after the last bell had rung, voice shaking. Hana only tilted her head innocently, eyes round as a puppy’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Before you could spit a biting retort back at her, the taller cheerleader tapped her chin thoughtfully with one bejewelled nail. “But I might think harder if...I got a little something in return.”
You grit your teeth. “What do you want?”
“Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party as my date,” Hana beamed, “and tell the office you want to change your locker.”
“You’re crazy,” you blurted, and her face immediately darkened. Dropping her voice, she leaned in closer, until her voice was right beside your ear.
“Oh, I can be even crazier. What would happen if I made copies of this little letter on Monday, hm? Or published it in the school paper for everyone to read? I’m sure Han Jisung would love that—”
Your eyes trailed down to the slip of paper she’d pulled out of her purse, the sight of your own familiar handwriting making panic surge through your veins like ice. Snatching it from her hand, you quickly began tearing it apart before noticing the calm smirk on Hana’s face.
“Photocopy, silly,” she giggled in a sing-song voice as you peered more closely at the shredded pieces, hands shaking. “Oh, all right, don’t cry. If you want the original so badly…” she leaned in again, cruel smile on her lips. “Then you might want to look in the library.”
Eyes widening, you immediately pushed her away and bolted for the stairs. “Don’t forget the deal! Thursday night,” Hana called after you, and you broke into a run.
Most of the classrooms were already empty, their dark windows reflecting your own face back at you as you hurtled past them. Your heart pounded in your chest as the library finally came into view at the end of the hallway, but you nearly came to a screeching halt when you saw that the lights had been turned off. Had Minho gone home early? Chewing your lip anxiously, you peered past the plexiglass. Aisles empty, books all shelved neatly, chairs stacked. The library was quiet as a tomb. Desperately, you tried the knob—and to your surprise, the door creaked open. Maybe he forgot to lock it. You had nothing to lose. Holding your breath, you slipped in.
Even the faint click of the door closing again sounded deafening. You rifled through the front desk first, dropping to a crouch as you inspected the carts and borrowing-bin. To your dismay, they were all empty—they must have all been re-shelved already. Heart sinking, you began tip-toeing through the shelves, fingers trembling as they ran over the laminated Dewey Decimal labels. Please, please, please…
You reached the poetry section at the back of the library, eyes squinting to try and read the spines of the books under shrouds of shadows. Poets— Nash. Naidu. Nemerov…
“Neruda,” you gasped, eyes falling on the book you had practically gone through hell searching for. 100 Love Sonnets. Almost sobbing in sheer relief, you reached out to grab it—just as another hand shot out from beside you. Your yelp of surprise broke the still, dim quiet, and you didn’t have to look up to know who the warm, pale fingers belonged to.
“Care to explain what you’re doing here?”
Spectacles glinting under the twilight, one hand in his pocket, nonchalant as ever, was the boy that had gotten you into this mess. Lee Minho.
As you stared back at him, mouth slightly agape, you felt as though your entire world was balancing precariously over a yawning abyss— as if one wrong move would send everything you’d spent the last two months—no, the last four years—repatching. You swallowed hard. His hand had landed a split-second later than yours, holding both you and the book in place, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his warm fingers on your chilled skin. Forcefully, you yanked the book from the shelves and out of his grasp. “The—book. I-I realised I still needed it for the project. It’s due this Friday, you know.”
He raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Today’s only Wednesday. Why not come back tomorrow morning?”
Shit. “I, um, promised Lia I’d go with her to the game tomorrow,” you fibbed, flipping through the book quickly, ready to grab any stray piece of paper that flew out. Nothing. “So I—need to finish the assignment today. Could you renew it for me?” Trying to plaster on an unbothered smile, you flipped through the book again. Still nothing. Had Hana lied to you?
In your peripheral, you saw Minho slowly shift his weight, crossing his arms as he mused, “Well, I’m not too sure about that. We’re getting...careful about letting students borrow books for too long. People tend to leave some...strange things in them.”
Your eyes snapped up, fingers freezing on the fluttering pages. “What—then did you—see anything? S-strange, I mean.”
A flicker of amusement passed through Minho’s eyes, and then it was gone. He cleared his throat, humming thoughtfully. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”
The strange intensity of his gaze seemed to corner you into the shadows, and you swore your heart was pounding so hard it seemed to echo through the room. “Nothing,” you stammered, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “I mean, I just—accidentally left—” Kill me now. You shook your head rapidly. “N-nevermind. I’m heading home.”
“Y/N—”
“Oh, one more thing.” You turned, remembering Hana’s sly words to you back in the stairwell. “You’re invited to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, after the game on Thursday.” Then, hoping you sounded more convincing than you felt, “Hana’s really counting on you to be her date.”
Minho chuckled. “You know I go to parties as often as you do.”
You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice in his words, only that same, airy indifference Minho always carried himself with. “Please? Hana—I mean, it would make her really happy if you went.”
“Would you be happy?”
The strange question caught you off guard, making you look up again. Minho was no longer smiling. His hand was still resting lightly over the missing space the book had left on the shelf, and his expression looked strangely lost under the twilit sky.
“Would it make you happy if I went?” He repeated, and you felt your mouth go dry.
Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, and I won’t publish your little love letter for everyone to see on Monday. You nodded firmly, laughing in an attempt to ease the strange atmosphere that had settled over the two of you once again. “Y-yeah. Ecstatic.”
You turned on your heel, breath leaving your lips in a shaky sigh. If the poem wasn’t in the book, where on earth could it be? Option one: It had fallen out somewhere along the way, and hadn’t fallen into anyone’s hands. The best case scenario. Option two: Hana had been playing with you again, and she had had the original all along. Option three…
“By the way, Hana told me not to give this to you.”
You whirled around in surprise, and your eyes landed on a horribly familiar piece of notebook paper dangling from Minho’s fingers. Option three, damn it all. Mortified, you snatched it from his hand, crumpling it into your fist as he laughed lightly.
“It’s a very good poem.”
“Shut up, Lee Minho,” you wailed, wishing the ground would just swallow you up and bury you six feet under for all of eternity. “It’s a cheesy, cliché wreck.”
He hummed in amusement. “What were you writing about?”
Paralyzed, your eyes flickered towards the window before sputtering, “The—sunset. Figurative approach, you know? Emily Dickinson-inspired—”
“Mm. Then what was that quote about—” He tilted his head in thought, fingers snapping. “Catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long—” He stopped when you plugged your ears instinctively, eyes glowering at him in disbelief. If looks could kill, Minho was sure he’d now have died more times than the characters in a Shakespearean tragedy. “—was that about the sunset, too?”
“Of course,” you snapped, your voice a tad too pitchy for your liking. Damn Lee Minho and his knack for memorizing things. “Haven’t you ever heard of extended metaphors? Rest assured, Lee Minho—I will never, ever, ever—have feelings for you.” You crumpled the sheet of poetry into a ball as you spoke with a note of finality, jamming it into your back pocket for good riddance.
Minho looked unfazed, the light curve of a knowing smile playing on his lips. After a moment, he took a step towards you, making you stumble back in alarm. “‘You can cut all the flowers,” he mused, glancing down at the crumpled love letter, “‘but you cannot stop spring from coming.’”
“Wh-wha—”
“Neruda quote. Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable, and I’ll stop,” he murmured, eyes growing serious for a moment before his lips twitched with mirth, “but something tells me I deserve to hear more about that sunset from your poem.”
Gulping, you felt hot tears brimming in your eyes, and suddenly wished you were anywhere but here. This confrontation had been your worst nightmare, what you had always wanted to avoid. Your pride’ll be the end of you, y/n, you remembered Lia remarking when you’d sworn up and down that your feelings for Lee Minho were a thing of the past. And it was true—your pride had always gotten the better of you. You were a hypocrite, and a terrible one at that—always telling yourself you had gotten over that stupid, ninth-grade heartbreak, before unravelling into a nervous mess whenever Minho so much as threw a glance at you. And now, you could feel everything you’d feebly repressed for the last four years caving in. Crashing down on you like an avalanche of cheap supermarket chocolates.
“It was about you. You, alright?” You hissed, voice coming out more wounded, rather than venomous like you’d intended. “There. Are you happy now?” You were glad the shadows hid the humiliated tears beginning to roll down your cheeks, and wiped at your eyes furiously. Damn it all. So much for not crying.
“Then why didn’t you—”
“Say anything?” You breathed a short laugh. “Because I didn’t want to see you just throw it out again, okay?”
The silence that met your words was deafening, and when you finally mustered the courage to lift your gaze you saw that Minho’s look of disbelief mirrored your own.
“'Again?'”
Damn Lee Minho and his two-faced ass. Had he already forgotten? “In ninth grade. I left you a—stupid love letter in your locker, with all your other Valentines. Then I s-saw you throwing them all out, behind the school.”
“But I read every name on the cards,” Minho insisted, running a hand through his tousled hair. I left you—a stupid love letter in your locker. Your words sent his head spinning, and he felt his flustered cheeks heat up as he mumbled, “I’ve never—seen yours on any of them.”
Now it was your turn to blink in confusion. Minho’s brow furrowed in vague recollection. “But I did see Hana pulling an envelope out from my locker that day. She said that—she’d heard someone had been sending chain mail on Valentine’s Day, so she was helping the principal clean them up from people’s lockers.”
Hana? Your mind flashed to the missing locks, and the cheerleader that always seemed to be hanging around your locker, and suddenly everything dawned on you. “What did the envelope look like?”
“A corner store card. With—”
“Candy hearts. Right.” You muttered, watching Minho nod slowly. Your anger faltered slightly, feeling a slight shame wash over you, but you weren’t willing to give up just yet. “That still doesn’t explain why you dump out all the gifts you get every year.”
He sighed. “Look. Why would I keep love letters from people I don’t like? That’s just...narcissistic. And I don’t...like chocolate, either,” he added as an afterthought, and you couldn’t help exhaling a short laugh at his ridiculously blunt sentence. Another silence fell between the two of you, the angry tension in the air replaced with an almost childish awkwardness.
“I really did like the poem,” Minho spoke tentatively after what felt like an eternity, and you buried your head in your hands.
“Shut up, Lee Minho, oh my g—”
“And I wouldn’t have thrown it out.” The soft edge to his voice made you stop, peeking out of your fingers to look at him questioningly.
“Why not?” You asked, swallowing hard. “You said keeping letters from someone you don’t like would be narcissistic.”
He was barely a foot away, and the sheer proximity of his face from yours made your stomach flop—with irritation or butterflies, you weren’t sure you wanted to find out. Nonetheless, a tiny voice at the back of your head told you that you were heading towards the latter.
“You know, for someone who reads so many books, you sure are dense,” Minho murmured, shaking his head.
“Wh—”
“I throw out all my Valentines every year because I never see your name on them, alright?” His expression was as careless as ever—that cool, calm facade he wore like a suit of armour—but you didn’t miss the slight tremor in his voice, the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. Lee Minho, you realized with a jolt, was nervous. “I...only ever wanted to receive one from you.”
Your eyes widened, hands lowering from your face in shock. The book tumbled from under your arm to the ground. “But—Hana always told me about how much you hated me.”
“Hmm.” He dropped down to pick it up before fixing his piercing eyes on yours. “Funny. She’s been telling me the same about you. How you’re a two-faced, back-stabbing...such-and-such,” he smiled at the indignant look on your face before his face grew serious. “You’ve always let people walk all over you, and you never retaliate. It’s both admirable and frustrating to watch.”
“I’m not good at confrontation,” you mumbled, still shifting your weight from one leg to the other nervously. “Every time I think I’ve finally got the guts to try and say something back, I...I get all terrified that the words’ll jumble up and I-I’ll start to cry like an idiot again—”
“You’re not an idiot,” he interrupted sternly, “You’re probably more clever—and genuine—than everyone in our grade combined. Your thesis was brilliant.”
You snorted incredulously. “Then why did you keep attacking it every class?”
“It was the only time I could get you to talk to me.”
“Weirdo,” you muttered, but you couldn’t find it in you to make the word sound insulting anymore. Minho chuckled, hand grazing yours as he handed the book back to you. You didn’t move your hand away, and neither did he.
“It is weird. I must be out of my mind. Whenever you look at me, it’s like the whole world stops, and suddenly every cheesy line of poetry I’ve ever read just seems to make sense.”
Your heart was pounding so hard you were more than certain Minho could hear it. The way he was looking at you was nearly overwhelming, stomach fluttering with a feeling so strange and foreign it terrified you. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought that you would be here, in this delicate, unreal moment, and you felt all your insecurities threatening to swallow you up again. Out of everyone in the school, he likes you? A voice snickered at the back of your mind. Don’t kid yourself.
Shrinking away, you mumbled, “Y-you—don’t have to say stuff like that, you know. I mean, i-if you feel bad because of the letter and everything, you don’t have to pretend you lik—”
There was a flash of an exasperated smile on Minho’s lips. Before you could finish, his hand reached to pull your chin towards him again, and suddenly his mouth was pressed flush to yours. You froze, lips parting in surprise, but the kiss was light—barely even a brush of soft skin, and bringing with it the faint scent of vanilla and old books. Minho pulled away almost as quickly as he’d pulled you in, stammering, “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
That seemed to send what was left of your hesitation crumbling into dust. You grabbed the collar of his dress shirt to pull him back in, and the library fell silent again.
Minho kissed the way he talked—soft but firm, and always leaving you struggling to catch your breath. Each touch had the growing intensity of something long overdue, starting out careful—as though you were treading over the newly shattered, four-year-old misunderstandings of one another—before your hands instinctively tangled in his hair and Minho pulled you in impossibly closer. You could feel his heartbeat pressed against yours, the crumpled poem and Neruda’s sonnets long forgotten on the carpeted ground.
The click of the library door opening sent the two of you flying apart, Minho hitting his head on the shelf with a comical thud. The kiss left you dazed and out of breath, and Minho’s face was flushed as both of you whipped around to see a livid Hana at the front of the library. Mouth opening and closing in silent fury, she shot you a death glare before storming out the door, leaving both you and Minho blinking after her.
Several moments passed, the whiplash of the unexpected interruption having sent both of your heads reeling. Then, the two of you broke into stunned laughter, slowly sliding down to the carpet as you doubled over in giggles.
When you finally stopped laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, Minho’s gaze was fixed fondly on your face. You poked his cheek. “You’re blushing, asshole.”
He didn’t respond, eyes falling to your lips again, and you felt your own face flush. “W-what?”
Minho grinned. “And you have drool on your chin again.”
“Hey, Minho! Minho, you won’t believe this!”
That enthusiastic voice belonged to none other than Han Jisung—voice of Levanter High’s morning announcements, and notorious school gossip. He hurtled down the bustling hall towards you and Minho, hunching over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.
“Shit, ‘sung—did you kill somebody?”
The dark-haired boy shook his head rapidly. “Did you see the school newspaper?”
Your mouth went dry, Hana’s lingering threats still ringing clear in your ears. Jisung continued excitedly, “Two people submitted anonymous love poems over the weekend—at the same time! Can you believe it? I’m supposed to cover it on the announcements in a bit!”
Two? You peered at Minho, who hadn’t looked at you, and glimpsed a knowing glint in his eyes. “W-who submitted them?”
“Well, Lee Hana was handing out copies of the first one to everyone first thing this morning. But when I showed her the other one, she refused to tell me who the first belonged to.” He pouted.
Minho looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Do you have a copy of the paper, ‘sung?”
The dark-haired boy grinned. “Yeah, ‘course! You guys can have mine. See ya!”
As Jisung disappeared into the crowd of students, you turned back to Minho. He had been in the middle of putting a new lock on your locker, and was now setting the combination on his own. “They’re matching,” he’d pointed out when you’d gone into town together to buy them, and you’d groaned.
“Gro-oss.” The old, PDA-hating you would have probably thrown them away on the spot, but now the sight made you smile like a dork. If you can’t beat em, join ‘em.
You looked down to read the papers Jisung had deposited into your hands. Sure enough, on the left column, you spotted a photocopy of your own love letter. But on the right, there was a completely new one—and you had a sneaking suspicion you knew who the anonymous writer was.
“You know, Minho,” you deadpanned, “I don’t think either of us are cut out to be poets.”
“I stayed up all night writing that love letter, you know!” Minho exclaimed indignantly, and you just shook your head laughing. “But you’re right. I could feel Neruda turning in his grave.”
“You’re going to be the end of me, Lee Minho.”
His face broke into a mischievous grin at that, pinning you playfully to the lockers and stealing another kiss as you yelped in surprise.
“Can it be a happy ending?”
#this took way longer than ryu anticipated#ryu is nervous and hopes you enjoy ㅠㅠ#part of this was just ryu being a self-indulgent english nerd too#also-new format!#tumblr's new update whoo#stray kids#stray kids au#stray kids soft#stray kids boyfriend#skz#stray kids imagines#stray kids fluff#stray kids minho#lee minho#lee know#stray kids angst#lee know boyfriend#bang chan#hwang hyunjin#lee felix#kim seungmin#yang jeongin#seo changbin#han jisung#skz as high school lovers
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look after you (1)
TFATWS Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
Summary: Sam asks you to join him and Bucky on a mission in Madripoor. When you get injured, Bucky feels the need to remind you more than once that he’s supposed to look after you now that Steve’s gone.
Warnings: tfatws spoilers, language, violence, blood, grief, angst, major pining
Word Count: 6k+
Author’s Note: Here she is!! I’m really excited to see what you guys think! This is my first Bucky fic in AGES! I decided to make this into a mini series since this fic is so long haha. Please let me know what you think. Comments, reblogs, and asks are highly encouraged and appreciated! Enjoy!
You hadn’t seen Sam or Bucky in several weeks. You were still adjusting to life post-blip. It had been a long five years for you and just seconds for them. You were no longer the bright-eyed and bushy tailed recruit. You’d grown into your position amongst the established and experienced Avengers. Now, it meant nothing.
Tony’s gone. Steve’s dead, Natasha too. The Avengers had officially disbanded. You felt lost and confused, still blinded by your grief over losing them. You had nowhere to go, so you just floated from place to place as needed.
You were laying low and a shell of the person you once were. You had no one to look towards anymore. Bucky went his separate ways and got some sort of footing in New York City with the pardon he was given by the government since his return to the states. You checked in every now and then with him, but you didn’t want to slow down his progress so you distanced yourself from him.
You know he feels some sort of responsibility towards you. Steve did too, and you suppose now that he’s gone, Bucky feels the need to take his place. It doesn’t matter that you’re no longer the naive 23 year old he met in Berlin all those years ago. It doesn’t matter that there was something lingering between the two of you before he turned to ash. You’re a grown woman now and war and politics has hardened your soul.
He needs to move on from you. The version he has of you in his head is gone, dead. He wants a fresh start, and you can’t give it to him.
Sam checks in with you once in a while. He asks you how you’re doing and you respond the same each time. “Same shit, different day,” you laughed lightly.
He knows better than to ask you to join him on his missions with the military. You’re not in the right headspace to return to the field, least of all if it meant that you were representing the US government wherever the fight was.
Now that John Walker has the shield and has been branded the new Captain America, it gives you all the more reason to stay away. If he had so much as just breathed in your direction, you’d kill him and rip the shield from his grasp and return it to Sam.
You ignored all emails and phone calls that had to do with John Walker. He wanted your blessing on live television, as if that meant anything. Yes, you were close with Steve, but you’re not an original Avenger. You just caught his eye during training one day and he took you under his wing. John Walker just wanted to create a bridge between the two of you since Sam and Bucky were obviously out of the question.
You were the first person Sam called when he told you he was giving up the shield. You didn’t ask why. You knew he had his reasons and you respected him to accept that whatever the reasons were, they were good enough.
So, when Sam called in the middle of the night, you picked up the phone without a second thought. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you sit up and fumble for the light on the nightstand beside you.
“Sam? You do realize it’s three in the morning, right?” you asked, yawning into your phone.
Sam curses in your ear and apologizes quietly. “Sorry. You would think with all this traveling, I’d remember time zones are a thing,” he laughed softly.
“What is it, Sam?”
“We’re in a bit of a tight spot. We could use your help.”
Your brows pinch together. “Who’s we, Sam?”
“Me and Barnes.”
Your heart jumps inside your throat. How the hell did Sam manage to rope Bucky into whatever he’s doing? The last you heard, Bucky wasn’t allowed to go on government missions until his therapist thought he made enough progress to do so. You know he’s nowhere near the progress he wants to be, so how is he with Sam?
“Jesus, Sam. You know he’s not in the right headspace to go on missions!” There’s a heavy pause between the two of you before you relent. “Where am I meeting you?”
“Latvia. I’ll fill you in when you get here.”
You hang up quickly and hurry out of bed. After so many years of getting up at odd hours for emergency missions and the like, you’re not surprised that Sam asked you to meet him in the middle of the night. You grab your duffle bag and stuff all your belongings back inside. You travel lightly, and now it definitely seemed to work out in your favor.
You’ve spent the last couple of weeks in a small town just outside of Helena, Montana. It’s nice and quiet and you’ve really taken the time to reflect on your life since things started going back to normal post-blip. The locals are nice and hospitable, and no one asks you about Steve, Tony, or what you thought of John Walker. You hope it had something to do with the fact that they didn’t know who you were. You certainly hoped that was the case. You’ve kept your head down and tried your best to blend in.
You go hiking quite frequently and take drives through the mountains. It’s nice and relaxing, a far cry from what you’re used to. You’ll definitely miss it, and you have second thoughts about meeting up with Sam, but you push them away. Steve abandoned you both, and you wouldn’t do that to him.
It takes you several hours to get to the closest international airport and by the time you arrive, the sun begins to rise in the distance. You hurry through the airport security and send Sam a quick update that you’re about to board your flight before you settle in your seat and fall back asleep.
....
You sleep through the entire flight. You blame it on your ability to sleep anywhere due to the number of missions you have under your belt. You’re wide awake when the plane lands and you’re quick to pull out your phone and send a message to Sam that you’ve made it safe and sound to Latvia.
Your legs are stiff and sore when you stand up for the first time when it’s time to leave. You pull your duffle bag from the overhead compartment and slowly make your way to the front. It takes you nearly an hour to get through customs and now you’re just anxiously waiting to see Sam.
When you see him waiting for you at the baggage claim area, you grin as your eyes meet. You hurry over to him and drop your duffle bag to the floor as he pulls you in for a hug. It’s warm and tight and it’s exactly what you need. Sam pulls away first and reaches for your bag, throwing an arm over your shoulder as you walk out of the airport to his car.
You stop walking when you notice two figures near a very fancy yellow car as you and Sam near them. Sam keeps walking and you take slow, tentative steps. You know one of the figures has to be Bucky, but Sam never mentioned a third person.
“Sam, I thought you said that it was just you and Bucky,” you said cautiously.
Sam stops in his tracks and lets out a nervous chuckle and scratches the back of his head. It makes your heart race and you swallow the lump in your throat as they begin to come into focus as they near the two of you. “Y/n, before you get angry, I just need you to know that this wasn’t my idea. Believe me when I tell you that he is the last person we would ask for help,” Sam replied as his eyes went from you to the two people approaching.
“Who is he?” you asked through gritted teeth.
“Ah! Y/n, good to know that your flight went rather smoothly. It is good to see you again.”
No. There’s no way. You must be dreaming. Hemlut Zemo is not standing right in front of you. He is in prison. He is behind bars for the crimes he committed. The two men that you're closest to wouldn’t jailbreak someone as atrocious as Zemo. There has to be an explanation. It doesn’t make sense.
“What the fuck is Zemo doing out of prison?!” you hissed, looking between Bucky and Sam, demanding an explanation.
“Y/n, honey, I can explain, just please get in the car,” Bucky pleaded, reaching out to touch your hand.
You glare at him and take a step back. “Are you out of your mind, Bucky? You break him out of jail because you need him, is that it? Do you remember what he did to you, because I certainly do!”
Bucky frowns and lets out a deep and heavy sigh. He looks over at Sam. “Did you fill her in at all?”
“No!” you shouted. “I can speak for myself, James! Someone better start talking and tell me what the hell is going on!”
“We don’t really have time for this right now,” Zemo interrupts, “we really must be going. I’m sure Sam and James can fill you in in the car.”
You glare at the Sokovian terrorist and snap at him. “Shut your mouth, Zemo.”
He raises his hands up in surrender and takes a step back. Bucky towers over you and this time you let him take your hand. He squeezes it gently and pulls you into his chest, hugging you tightly. You’re tense and fuming as he holds you.
His mouth finds the shell of your ear and despite the wave of anger flowing through your body, it sends a shiver down your spine. Bucky whispers, “I hate to say it, but Zemo’s right. We have to go. I’ll explain on the way, I promise.”
You huff childishly and turn your head away from him as he kisses your temple. “Fine. If he steps out of line, I’ll kill him.”
Bucky laughs and takes your hand and walks you to the car. “Get in line, honey. Sam and I have first dibs.”
You resist the urge to smile and Bucky opens the door for you as Sam tosses your bag in the trunk and climbs into the front seat. Bucky slides in beside you and he tells you everything.
He tells you about their first encounter with the Flag Smashers. He tells you about how the leader and a few of her followers have taken a newer version of the serum that runs through his veins. He tells you that she plans on giving the serum to more people to build an army and that you have to stop her.
It makes your heart stop. You hadn’t really been keeping tabs on the Flag Smashers. Now, looking back, you probably should have. There’s still a lot of unknown variables to account for and it looks like the boys are taking it one step at a time, and apparently it starts with a trip to Madripoor. Zemo chimes in every now and then as he drives and it makes your blood boil that you’re forced to listen to what he has to say. You hate that he has the upper hand and is keeping valuable information hostage. You want to strangle him.
After a while, Zemo pulls into a private airport. Bucky helps you out of the car and grabs your bag from the trunk as the four of you walk towards the jet just off the runway. You had no idea just how rich Zemo was. Now that he’s out of prison, for now at least, his arrogance returned back in full force in addition to his pompous attitude.
You board the plane in silence, ignoring every word coming out of the Baron’s mouth. You settle in the back of the plane and ignore Bucky’s stares as you look out the window. You’re too angry to engage in conversation. You don’t care that Zemo insults Steve’s legacy. He’s gone, dead, what do you care? Yes, you wanted Steve to be happy, but he abandoned you. He abandoned Sam and Bucky.
Zemo rambles on and on. “People like Steve become symbols, icons. Then we start to forget about their flaws. From there, cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought,” he turns to address Bucky directly. “You remember that, right? As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull?”
Silence fills the space and for a moment, you feel a reprieve. That was until Zemo mentioned the Winter Soldier.
“We can’t go into Madripoor as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.”
You immediately stand up and protest, storming to the front of the plane. “No. Absolutely not. I won’t let you use Bucky, not again. There has to be another way.”
Zemo clicks his tongue at you and shakes his head. A smug graces his features and you lung at him, wrapping your hands around his throat. “I’ll fucking kill you!”
Bucky leaps to his feet and tears you off of Zemo, dragging you to the back of the plane behind the curtains to give the two of you an illusion of privacy. Your shoulders shake with rage and Bucky’s hands caress your face.
“You can’t be him. He’s not you anymore. You don’t have to do this, Bucky. Please,” you begged, clinging to his hands. “I can’t let Zemo control you again.”
Bucky’s touched with how protective you are over him. He pulls you closer and hugs you tightly against him. Your fingers grip the back of his shirt and he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head.
“Honey,” he whispered. “I have to. I have to do this so we can stop the Flag Smashers from getting the serum. It’s for the mission.”
You huffed against his chest. Now you’re really regretting your decision to help Sam. You would’ve said no if you had known that it meant watching Bucky turn into the Winter Soldier again, even if it wasn’t real.
You don’t know what to say. He won’t change his mind. Bucky’s just as stubborn as you are and he’ll do anything for the success of the mission, just like Steve did.
You pull away and return back to your seat, crossing your arms over your chest as you stare into the back of Zemo’s plush leather seat. Bucky trails behind you and squeezes your shoulder. You shrug off his touch as he takes the empty seat next to yours.
“And, I’m afraid that where we’re going doesn’t take too kindly to women who are…. how do I put this…. strong willed,” Zemo said.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Bucky barked, jumping to your defense just moments after you did the same for him.
“Selby will see Y/n as competition. We can’t have that happen. She’ll have to stay behind.”
“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m just going to just sit here and do nothing,” you snapped. “I’m coming with. I don’t care if I have to pretend to be meek.”
Zemo turns to look at you. He’s challenging you. You both know it. He’s pushing your buttons and it’s working. He smirks and leans against the armchair. His eyebrows raise and he asks, “Even if it means pretending to be a prostitute?”
Your gaze doesn’t falter and you ignore both Sam’s and Bucky’s protests. It falls on deaf ears. You don’t care, as long as you’re with Sam and Bucky and they’re safe. “Yes,” you answered without a second thought. You’ve done worse things than pretend to be a sex worker. It would be a piece of cake.
Zemo grins, letting out a soft laugh. “It looks like you’ll be joining us after all then, Y/n.”
You scoff at him and look out the window. Bucky drags you from your seat once more and pulls you behind the curtain. You look away from him and he reaches to squeeze your hand.
“You don’t have to do this. You have nothing to prove,” he whispered, brushing the top of your palm with his warm and calloused fingers.
“You don’t either,” you mumbled back.
He smiles softly at your retort and pulls you into his arms. He holds you gently and cards his fingers through your hair. You hum quietly as he holds you.
“Touché, honey.”
There’s a beat of silence between the two of you before you lean back to meet his gaze. His blue eyes pierce through yours and it makes your heart race. You pull away and rub your palms against your thighs.
You disappear behind the curtain once more, leaving Bucky behind.
…
When you arrive in Madripoor, you’re dressed in an outfit that leaves little to the imagination. The dress has a plunging neckline that settles just below your naval. Your chest is barely covered and your boobs threaten to slip over the fabric. You’re dressed for the part, that’s for sure.
Zemo is the first one to look at you when you return from behind the curtain. He whistles at you and it makes your skin crawl.
Bucky shoves Zemo harshly and grips his chest tightly, snarling in his face. “Watch your mouth,” Bucky hissed, shoving him into one of the chairs.
He turns to look at you and you reach to squeeze his hand. You pull him away from Zemo and whisper softly, “It’s alright, Buck. Take a deep breath.”
He grits his teeth and shakes his head, and does what you ask. “I’ll kill him. If he does that again, I’ll kill him.”
You laugh softly and press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I don’t doubt you will, Buck.”
The two of you trail behind Sam and Zemo as you leave the plane. A sleek black car is waiting just off the runway and you follow behind to the vehicle. When you settle into your spot in between Buck and Sam in the back, Zemo turns to look at the three of you.
“It’s imperative that we don’t break character, no matter what. If you do, we’re good as dead, understand?”
You scoff and roll your eyes as he looks towards you. “Crystal,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest.
He turns to face the front of the vehicle and silence fills the car.
Suddenly, a number of motorcycles surround the car as you drive into Low Town. you make sure to keep your eyes forward and Bucky reaches for the hand on your knee. He squeezes it tightly and you do the same.
Reality is now just setting in for you. This is the first mission that you’ve been on since Steve went back to the 40s, and since Tony died. It had been three long months since Tony saved the world and brought everyone back that was taken five years earlier. You know that three months isn’t long, but it still makes you nervous. You haven’t been training to keep things from going rusty. You had no desire to.
Bucky leans into you, his mouth near the shell of your ear. “You okay?”
You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah, just a bit nervous. I’m a little out of practice. This is my first mission since Steve left,” you mumbled back, squeezing his hand again to keep you grounded. He does the same in return.
“It’s alright. I have your back. I’ll protect you, promise.”
A small smile finds its way onto your face and you shake your head at him. “You know better than anyone else than to promise something like that before a mission, Buck. It’s bad luck,” you teased.
He laughs too and the car stops in what you guess is the downtown area of Low Town. You take a deep breath and Bucky does the same. You squeeze his hand one last time before his hand falls from your grasp. He opens the door and climbs out. You follow close behind and find your spot next to Sam. He gingerly wraps his arm around your waist as you walk into the Princess Bar.
Electronic music blasts through the speakers and the bass vibrates through your chest. You press against Sam as you push through people to get to the bar. The smell of drugs and alcohol is suffocating as you walk and ignore the stares sent your way. They’re not staring at you, but Bucky, who walks just a step behind you like a looming shadow.
“Ready to comply, Winter Soldier?” Zemo asked Bucky in Russian.
It makes your blood boil and Sam squeezes your waist tightly, a reminder that you must not break character. You hate it. You hate that Bucky has to pretend to be the person he’s worked so hard to distance himself from. Bucky is not him. The Winter Soldier doesn’t exist anymore. That part of him is gone, dead. You only hope that Bucky reminds himself that the Winter Soldier isn’t him anymore as he pretends just feet behind you.
You stand in front of the bar counter as the bartender approaches. You keep your mouth shut as Zemo exchanges words with the man, briefly bringing Sam, the Smiling Tiger, into the conversation. Your eyes find Bucky’s and your heart jumps inside your throat. His eyes are cold and void of any emotion. He’s stoic and brooding. He’s fallen into character perfectly and it scares you to think that all the progress he’s made over the years has been destroyed in this moment. For his sake, you hope not.
You tear your eyes away from Bucky at the feeling of Sam’s hand on the curve of your ass. You watch him carefully as he takes a shot. The bartender moves on and you let out a careful breath.
A man grasps at Zemo’s shoulder and sneers at him. He looks over at Bucky as Zemo asks to see Selby before he walks away. Another man approaches Zemo from behind and he speaks in Russian once more. “Winter Soldier, attack.”
You hold your breath in anticipation as the unsuspecting man rests his hand on Zemo’s shoulder. You want to reach out and touch Bucky, tell him that he doesn’t have to, that the two of you still have time to make a run for it, but you don’t. You can’t. Zemo would probably try and kill you if you interfere and it’s the last thing you need.
Bucky stalks over to him with two long strides, and rips the man’s hand from Zemo’s shoulder. He twists his wrist back and throws him to the ground. Another man swings at Bucky and he stops it with ease. He punches his back and kicks him against another crowny. As another man attempts to punch and kick at Bucky. He uses his metal arm and momentum to take each of them out.
“It doesn’t take much for him to fall back into form,” Zemo smirked, leaning over to look at you and Sam.
“Shut your mouth,” you hissed between your teeth as you watched Bucky.
Bucky grabs one of the men by the throat and slams him into the counter. Guns cock all around you as you look around the room. Your heart is inside your throat and there’s ringing in your ears. You reach to grab Bucky’s arm, but Sam beats you to it.
“Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us,” Zemo whispered. “Well done, soldier.”
Sam lets go of his arm and takes a step back, pulling you with him. He squeezes your hip tightly as you watch Bucky’s grip fall from the man’s throat.
“Selby will see you now,” the bartender said.
Zemo moves to follow him and you resist the urge to reach out and touch Bucky. Sam pulls you along and you walk in silence down a number of hallways. The music fades into the background and you’re squeezing Sam’s hand like your life depends on it.
A number of men on Selby’s security detail whistle as you walk by. You bite your tongue and resist the urge to snap their necks. The four of you wait at the door at the end of the hall for several seconds before it opens. You walk inside and Zemo takes you from Sam’s side. Your jaw ticks as he guides you to the empty sofa. His hand settles on your thigh and you tense under his touch.
Zemo and Selby negotiate for information. All you need to know is who created the serum and where they are. That’s it. Zemo needs to stick to the plan.
Zemo stands up from his spot next to you. “Tell us what you know about the super soldier serum, and I give you him…. along with the code words to control him,” Zemo stands behind Bucky, his hand resting on his shoulder. He’s silent and obedient, the perfect encapsulation of who he had been for the last 80 years.
There wasn’t a discussion over what the offer would be when you were on the plane from Latvia. You just assumed Zemo would figure a way out of it, he was clever enough to do it before. You hadn’t thought that he would actually use the Winter Soldier to his benefit outside of protection. How naive of you.
Bucky’s eyes are dark and he stares straight ahead as Zemo caresses his chin. He doesn’t flinch or react. He’s playing the Winter Soldier perfectly and you hate every second. You bite the inside of your cheek so hard that you start to taste blood.
“He will do anything you want.”
Selby grins, leaning back in her spot on the couch opposite of you. She tells him what you need to know. She nears Sam and then the worst happens, his phone begins to ring.
She tells him to answer it and your fingers squeeze into the leather couch. Your heart races and for the first time since you walked into the bar, Bucky’s eyes find yours. You know he can see your panic.
Things are fine momentarily. Sam’s trying his best to stay in character and you know it’s not working as well as he’d like. You hold your breath and your panic settles in at the mention of Sam’s name coming from Sarah.
“Kill them—”
Your eyes widen in horror as a bullet pierces through the glass window in front of you and lodges into Selby’s throat, killing her instantly. The act is over.
You leap to your feet and pull the tactical knife that you hid in your dress out from underneath you. You slice the knife across your attacker’s arm. Bucky kicks him into the wall and grabs you by the arm.
You run as fast as you can out the bar and through the streets of Madripoor. You dodge bullets and fight off others that attack you with knives.
You do well, all things considered with what you’re dressed in. You dig your heel into the boot of your attacker, throwing them off balance. You kick their leg out from underneath them and Sam knocks them unconscious.
Bucky, of course, is doing just fine on his own. You run over to help. You disarm the man closer to you and use the butt of the gun to knock him out.
You barely have time to register the man creeping up behind Bucky. His arm is outstretched with a gun in his hand. Bucky has no clue.
“Bucky!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, running as fast as you can towards him.
He turns to look at you as you use your whole body to shove him aside as the gun goes off.
Time stands still.
You fall to the ground in a daze as the bullet rips through your shoulder. Your eyes stare up into the night sky as it takes you a moment to realize that you’d just been shot.
You try to sit up and get back on your feet. You don’t have time to worry about your wound. You need to get the hell out of Low Town.
Bucky nearly drags you off the ground and you run. You run as fast as you can despite the bullet in your shoulder.
“We need to get out of here!” Bucky shouted, inspecting your wound.
A shadowy figure approaches and Bucky blocks you from view. The hood drops and you peer over Bucky’s shoulder. You don’t have time to be surprised that Sharon is the one standing in front of you.
“Sharon? What are you doing here?” Sam asked.
“We don’t have time for that!” Bucky snapped. “Sharon, please. You gotta help us. Y/n’s been shot.”
She nods and motions for you to follow her. She stops in front of a beautiful blue car and Bucky guides you into the car, pressing his metal hand against your shoulder to stop the bleeding. You ignore Sam and Bucky’s bickering as they yell at you for getting shot. You don’t have the energy to respond.
Sharon races across town and pulls up to a very fancy building. Sharon jumps out and opens the door for Bucky. His arm holds your torso and your uninjured arm is thrown over his shoulder as you walk inside. You gather into the elevator as it takes you to the top floor.
Your entire body goes numb and Bucky guides you to the kitchen counter. Sharon briefly disappears before returning with a heavy duty first aid kit.
“Do you have tequila?” you asked her as Bucky rummaged through the bag for the correct supplies. Sharon laughs softly before grabbing a bottle of tequila from her liquor cabinet. You take a generous sip and the liquid burns your throat.
Bucky inspects the bullet wound carefully. Thankfully it was a through and through. He doesn’t have to fish the bullet out. He works quickly and you grit your teeth as he stitches the wound close on both sides of your shoulder.
The pain lessened to a dull throb now that he’s finished. He cleans the excess blood off your skin before gently placing your arm in a sling.
“Why did you do that, Y/n?” Bucky chastised you, shaking his head in disappointment. “I could’ve taken care of him.”
You scoff and roll your eyes at him. “I don’t even get a thank you for saving your ass? You were vulnerable, I did the right thing.”
He sighs and you look away. Your eyes find Sharon’s. “Can I borrow some clothes?”
She nods and disappears down the hall to her bedroom. Silence fills the room and Sam takes his turn to reprimand you. You ignore him entirely and take another large swig of tequila.
Sharon returns moments later with a pair of clean clothes. You thank her quietly and she points you in the direction of one of the guest bedrooms. You hop off the counter and ignore Bucky’s protests and calls of your name.
You huffed in frustration as you limped towards one of Sharon’s guest bedrooms. You had enough of Sam and Bucky yelling at you for your recklessness, especially Bucky. You’re exhausted and all you want to do is sleep.
You did what you thought was right. You did what Steve would’ve done. You had Bucky’s back. Isn’t that what mattered? Sure, you got shot in the shoulder, but it isn’t something you haven’t done before. You have the scars to prove it.
“Stop running away from me! We’re not done talking about this!” Bucky yelled after you, hot on your heels into the bedroom. “What were you thinking?”
You’re sick of Bucky questioning you. You’re not a child and you’re not the bright eyed recruit he thinks you still are. You did what was right in the heat of the moment. You don’t regret it. You’d do it all over again if it meant that he was safe.
“Stop treating me like a child, James! I’m not Steve’s recruit anymore! I’m a grown woman,” you shouted back at him. Your shoulders shake and you glare at him. “I know you still think I’m that naive 25 year old, but that’s not me anymore. The last five years may have been five seconds to you, but they weren’t to me. Accept the fact that I did what I thought was right.”
“It was reckless!”
“Steve would’ve done it!” you bit back.
“This isn’t about Steve!” he argued.
You laugh bitterly and shake your head. He doesn’t see it. He doesn’t see what you see. You know he sees you as his responsibility now that Steve’s gone. He feels an obligation to look after you because Steve did. You have a part of Steve with you. Bucky’s clinging to any last remains of Steve, and that includes you.
“Isn’t it though? You feel like you have a responsibility to protect me, to look after me. Why? It’s because Steve did and now that he’s gone, you feel like you have to replace him!”
The silence that fills the room suffocates you. Your heart races with anger. You want Bucky to leave you alone. You didn’t ask for this. Sam needed your help, and when you provided it, you got yelled at for it. Now you just want to go home.
You turn your back to Bucky and pull the pants that Sharon gave you up your legs before discarding the dress in the corner of the room. You don’t care if Bucky sees all the scars that litter your backside. Maybe then he would understand that you’ve always done what’s best for the mission, even if that meant getting hurt. You throw the sweatshirt over your head and turn to look at Bucky again.
“Do you have anything else to say to me? Are you going to try and deny it?”
Bucky sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You’re one of the only people I have left that have a connection to Steve.”
Another bitter laugh escapes your mouth. He doesn’t understand. “He abandoned me, James! He abandoned us. Steve’s gone. You can’t hold on to him anymore. You don’t have to do anything Steve did. You have nothing to prove to me, I promise. I don’t need you to replace Steve. I need you, Buck. You’re the one that’s here with me, not Steve.”
Tears threaten to spill over your cheeks and you look away from him. The silence is deafening and Bucky moves to take you in his arms. He holds you against his chest and cards his fingers through your hair. You cry against his chest and cling to his henley. He gently guides you to the bed and sits down with you in his lap.
“I’m sorry, honey,” he whispered, rubbing your back. “You’re right. It just scared me. I don’t think I can handle losing you too. I’m sorry.”
You pull away to look at him with your tear stained cheeks and he carefully wipes away your tears with the pad of his thumb. You blink away the remaining tears and lean into his touch. “It’s okay, Buck. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
You rest your forehead against his and breathe him in. His metal hand rubs circles against your back and it sends shivers down your spine. He holds you carefully and no words are exchanged. Your eyes flicker to his lips and your heart thunders against your chest.
There’s a soft knock at the door and you pull your body off of Bucky’s. You sit beside him as Sam pokes his head inside the room. “Is everything okay?” he asked, looking between the two of you.
You look over at Bucky and then back to Sam. You smile and nod slowly. “Everything’s perfect, Sam.”
#bucky barnes x reader#Bucky Barnes#bucky barnes imagine#Bucky Barnes imagines#bucky x reader#bucky imagine#Bucky imagines#tfatws#tfatws x reader#sebastian stan#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan imagine#Sebastian stan imagines#sebastian x reader#sebastian imagine#my writing
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Ensemble - Chapter Two: The Girl and The Gift
Charles Leclerc x Reader
Summary: Your Arthur Leclercs best friend. So why, after a random night in London, are you falling for his brother?
Chapter One: The Start
Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and sex.
Word Count: 5.8k
Note: This chapter begins in London and is marked where it switches to Mykonos. There are then some flashbacks mixed in so just watch out for those. Let me know your thoughts, enjoy!
*****
Chapter Two: The Girl and The Gift
Not long after Pierre had joined your table, Charles emerged from the toilets. Pierre had waved his hands to inform him of his updated location as he sat in the empty seat, unknowingly signing himself up for a night full of girly gossip and drama. The evening was spent reminiscing on childhood memories and sharing stories. It wasn't until Nat checked her phone that you realised how late it was getting.
"We better get going," She announced as she checked her phone. "The last train is in half an hour." You lived just outside of London which meant that most nights out were cut short by trains unless you had booked a hotel. You hummed in agreement as you finished your drink watching as Pierre began to whisper in Lucy's ear. They'd been flirting all night so her next sentence didn't come as much of a surprise.
"I'm going to chill with Pierre for a bit, I'll find my own way home tomorrow" The rest of the girls saw it coming too.
"Are you sure?" Katie asked. "I don't want you ending up in London on your own with no way home." She had a point. London could be quite daunting when it was late and dark, especially if you weren't a local.
"Well why don't you stay too?" Charles nodded his head towards you as he spoke. "That way you could leave together." Not one part of you questioned Charles' intentions as he spoke. He remained the responsible 'Arthur's older brother' that was being sensible and mature, making sure that everyone got home safely.
"If that's alright with you?" Your question was answered with a nod of his head. You all began to grab your things and headed outside, saying your goodbyes, telling them to text you when they were home safe as they encouraged you to do the same. By the time they'd headed for the station, Pierre and Lucy were already nowhere to be seen.
"I'm not sure about you but I'm in no rush to go back to the apartment just yet!" You spoke to Charles as you looked at the night sky above you.
"Where do you want to go in the meantime?"
“Have you ever explored London before?" You answered his question with one of your own. He shook his head. "So you haven't seen all beautiful sites it has to offer." The sarcasm was evident in your voice as you pointed down the alley way you were walking past full of black bins and plastic bags full of rubbish.
"I've only ever been here to celebrate races and I can't say I've seen much other than the inside of some bars and restaurants.”
"Well you're in for a long night Leclerc." Two hours ago Charles wanted nothing more than for him and Pierre to go back to the apartment. The lack of alcohol he'd consumed throughout the night was only adding to the tiredness he'd accumulated over the race weekend. However as you dragged him through the streets of London he realised there was no place he'd rather be.
You'd ridden Boris bikes alongside the River Thames, shown him your favourite restaurant in Covent Garden and taken him through Piccadilly Circus all the way to Oxford Street where closed shops lined the dark streets, pointing out your favourite ones as you cycled past. He never did things like this. As a F1 driver it was difficult for him to go almost anywhere without going unnoticed but tonight not one person had recognised him because for the night he was just a normal person with another normal person having a good time.
After abandoning the Boris bikes at the nearest drop off point you both headed towards the apartment. It belonged to Charles' mother and was often used by you and Arthur whenever he'd come to visit and couldn't stay with you.
"You seem happier than when I last saw you." His comment made you smile. It was all he could think about as you wondered through the dark streets. The last time you'd seen him you'd just broken up with your ex. Your relationship had been on and off for years but you'd finally called it quits for good. It didn't take a genius to see the relationship was making you unhappy, the anxiety, tears and sleepless nights were picked up on by everyone albeit your efforts to hide it. Arthur was the only person who truly knew what was going on and it hurt him to see his best friend in so much pain when she thought she was in love.
"Thank you, I'm in a much better place now. I've had time to focus on myself." You'd completely lost yourself throughout the time you were together, focusing so much on what he'd wanted and expected rather than what made you happy. The situation had increased your maturity and for that reason you were grateful your first heartbreak had come at such a young age. You'd correctly assumed that Arthur had made Charles aware of your sensitiveness to the situation to some extent as he made no further comments.
He had approached Arthur with concern after your last meeting. Despite a fun grand prix weekend you'd been blinking back tears and spent most of the time with a blank expression on your face. He hated it. He could see you trying to compose yourself, when he came to thank you for coming you'd done your best to smile, your voice was laced with excitement, but your eyes were empty, drained of emotion. He was grateful to see it had made its way back.
"Did you know I've never been to Harrods?" His random fact was a relief as he quickly changed the subject, allowing your mind to be brought back to the present rather than the dark times from the past.
"Even I've been to Harrods Charles. We should go tomorrow, you'd have a field day in the clothes section." As a part time student most of your spare money went into savings, a fund you'd created for your planned travels when you were done with your studies. It wasn't very often that you brought yourself nice things so despite your multiple trips to Harrods, you'd never actually purchased anything. You could see him deliberating your suggestion in his head.
"You can wear sunglasses and a hat with your mask, just don't wear a bright red Ferrari top and I'm sure we'll be able to keep ourselves to ourselves."
"Don't you have work tomorrow?" His question brought you back to reality slightly.
"I'll call in sick?" you offered. It suddenly occurred to you that this was the longest time you and Charles had ever been alone together and the idea of leaving wasn't something that you wanted to think about just yet.
Charles opened the apartment door with caution, neither of you wanted to interrupt your friend’s spontaneous night, nor hear any of the antics they were getting up to. You frowned at each other as you stepped into the entrance corridor. There were no faint voices, no mumbling or laughs, just the hum of the city that echoed through the slightly open window.
“Maybe they didn’t come back here,” your judgement became increasingly more likely as you followed Charles towards the kitchen and stood around the island.
“I’ll send him a text.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped away before placing it on the marble countertop. It lit up with Pierre's reply not long after he'd set it down. “They went to some hotel, apparently he’s dropping her home in a second.”
“He’s not the type to bring girls back to his home turf then,” you took the bag off your shoulder and placed in on the counter, grabbing a hair tie from inside and gathering your locks into a low ponytail. “Smart move.” Charles shrugged his shoulders at your observation.
He’d never really thought about it before, but he was the same. The few casual hook ups that he’d had over the years had never been in places he spent a lot of time like his house in Monaco, or his favourite holiday home in Mykonos, and never this apartment. Sure, he’d slept with people in those cities, but never in his space. You were right though; it was easier to forget about the crime if you never returned to the scene.
"Do you have anything I can change into?"
“There’s a top on the end of my bed.” You thanked him as you made your way towards his room. “I’ll grab some of my things so I can crash on the sofa once you’ve changed.” You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him as you stood in the doorway.
“I’m not kicking an f1 driver out of their own bed Charles, especially not post race weekend.” You crossed your arms as you lent against the door frame. “I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
“I’m not letting you sleep on the sofa.” He argued.
“It’s one night Charles, I really don’t mind.”
“I’m not letting you sleep on the sofa.” He repeated.
“Well then it looks like we’re sharing the bed.” Your words not only surprised you, but also Charles. Neither of you were sure where this increased confidence had come from, but you didn’t want it to become awkward, so you tried to justify your statement. “Me and Arthur used to share a bed all the time!”
The look on his face as your eyes met with his across the room was one you’d so desperately been seeking without realising it. His head cocked, eyebrows raised and small smirk tugging its way onto his lips provided reassurance, giving you the confidence to confirm that this relationship was very different to your one with Arthur. You already knew it, you had felt it every time you’d looked at him since you were about 16, but this was the first time you could say with certainty that it was reciprocated.
Charles was dying to climb into bed with you. To wrap his arms around you and stay like it all night. He didn’t care about the fact that your hair would be in his face or that his arm would most likely be dead within the first half an hour. He just wanted you there with him, so he could learn things about you that he didn’t already know and fall asleep with the scent of your faded perfume beneath his nose. He suggested that he’d sleep on the sofa because he knew that wasn’t what you were implying.
“I’ll stay on my side,” you offered. “Promise.”
That’s what he was afraid of. Charles was a respectful man, he wouldn’t cross boundaries without permission, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could go without your touch. The thought of your body lying so tantalisingly close to his while dressed in nothing but your underwear and one of his shirts was driving him crazy.
“I’m a very good sleeper, you won’t even know I’m there.”
You couldn’t stop listing reasons for Charles to join you. He wished you would stop; his head was already full of so many.
“Well go and get comfy and I’ll join you in a minute,” In that moment he made the decision to give in knowing that if this was the only chance he got to lay in bed with you he'd take the opportunity, whether your bodies were intertwined or not. “Do you need a drink or anything?”
“A water would be great!” You smiled as you turned around and headed to the bedroom. Charles spent the next few minutes alone in the kitchen trying to convince himself that this was a bad idea. That it was wrong. You were his brother’s best friend and he shouldn't be this nervous or excited to lay next to you, but no matter how hard he tried to dislike the situation he couldn’t because it just felt right.
By the time he joined you in bed you’d already made yourself incredibly comfortable. He chuckled at the site of you tangled in the duvet before climbing in next to you. You laid facing each other and remained that way as you chatted about memories from the past. Childhood holidays and his earliest racing days to you latest life plans and hopes for the future. That's how you drifted to sleep, listening to his voice was more comforting than you'd like to admit. When you awoke in the morning you were unsure what terrified you more, the feeling of one of you completely reducing the few centimetres of space left between you or never knowing what Charles’ touch felt like.
*****
Maybe that’s why you were so unimpressed when Charles and Pierre joined the several of you seated around the long table on the patio with two unknown girls. The number of cocktails you’d consumed weren’t providing you with a great amount of rationality but then again it was difficult to justify being annoyed when you had no reason to be in the soberest of situations. The only person to blame was yourself, you’d had the chance to experience a night with Charles and a combination of your stubbornness, maturity and (let’s face it) fear of what could happen had meant that you’d missed out.
It was only as she threw her head back at one of his comments that it hit you, you were jealous. It was a feeling you hadn’t felt in years. Ever since your last relationship you had lacked almost every kind of emotion. You’d dated people since but that connection was never really there which is why you were full of confusion at the situation presenting itself to you. The feelings felt foreign to your body and you weren’t sure how to deal with them, so you did the one think that you were too young to do back then. Get drunk and try to forget about them for a night.
"Are you listening? Drink up, we're leaving in a second!" Arthurs voice provided a distraction from your thoughts whilst encouraging them. You tilted your head back as you finished the remainder of your champagne, your arm was already reaching out for the nearest bottle to see if you could sneak in a quick refill. You didn’t even like champagne but after having run out of cocktails about an hour ago you didn’t really have much choice. In any other situation you would’ve declined and waited until you were at the club but you weren’t really in the mood to sober up right now. You got up to follow everyone to the taxis, deciding that the bottle had too much in to be left at the table to waste, but not enough in that you couldn't finish it before you reached you destination. Putting the bottle to your lips this time, you took another gulp.
He noticed. He noticed the vast amount of alcohol you had consumed thus far. The unbothered façade you'd displayed during dinner was picked up by him the second he’d glanced in your direction. Your eyes often met his across rooms, at events, in the paddock, even at family dinners and it was always followed by a shared smile, but tonight you hadn't even looked at him and he couldn't stand it. Although he couldn’t be certain, he had a good idea what the cause was. Guilt was slowly consuming his thoughts. He shouldn’t have felt guilty, there was no real reason to, yet he did.
He knew if he had come alone you would've had a couple of drinks with dinner, just enough to prepare yourself for the club afterwards, allowing the sweaty people and sticky floor to become slightly bearable. He also knew that you weren't a huge drinker and that the lack of food you had consumed at dinner would only worsen the matter which was evident as he watched you fall into a taxi with Arthur and Carla as he climbed into a separate one with Pierre and, what they appeared to be to everyone else, their ‘dates’.
The club was busy, everyone excited to be back on the dance floor after its absence over the past year or two. Although it would've been nice to spend some more time with him, you were thankful that the crowds had engulfed you so you'd lose sight of Charles and her. You'd found your way to the middle of the dance floor and you remained there for hours losing track of time and somehow your friends too.
Unbeknown to you, Charles had lost his 'date' at the first chance he had. He'd met her on a boat during the day with Pierre and when his best friend had invited her best friend for dinner he felt bad for not doing the same. He was sitting at the bar with Pierre who'd picked up on the amount of attention he was paying you as you danced along with random strangers. The Frenchman questioned what he was doing when he noticed Charles tighten his jaw. Charles nodded his head in your direction and the pair watched as a man approached you.
The guy in front of you was only offering to buy you a drink but you knew you were way over your limit. You'd politely declined, naively assuming that he'd disappear back into the sea of faces but that wasn't the case. Your refusal clearly not accepted as he insisted. grabbing onto your arm in an attempt to pull you in the direction of the bar. Yanking your arm out of his grip you instantly managed to sober up as you came to the realisation you were going to have to fight this battle alone.
Charles knew you were a big girl, that you could handle yourself in almost any situation thrown your way, but as the guy reached out to touch you he could've sworn he moved quicker than his Ferrari. His presence shocked you as you flinched slightly at the unfamiliar grip on your waist.
"It's just me ma belle." Charles whispered calmly into your ear, placing a feather light kiss onto your cheek. Relief instantly washed over your body. You wished you could focus on the conversation that Charles was now having with the strange man in front of you but you couldn't. The only thing you could focus on was the feeling of your skin heating beneath Charles' fingertips and the tingling sensation that lingered where he'd planted the kiss. He'd never touched you before, the brief hugs being the most contact you'd ever shared, and now he was standing in a club with his hand around your waist as he fended off a random guy who'd taken an interest in you. "I think we should head home." When Charles spoke it felt as though each word was coated in sex as it left his lips. He hadn't meant it in a sexy way, you knew that. He wanted to take you home so you were safe. However his intense grip on your waist and his stubble lightly grazing your cheek when he leaned in to speak to you was putting thoughts into your mind that you knew shouldn't be there.
You looked up at him, your eyes locking for the first time that night. Your eyes always showed a lot of emotion. Your body language was often hard to read but you always made eye contact when you spoke. He frequently used it to determine what mood you were in but this time he was met with one he'd never seen before. Despite them having a drunken glaze, your dilated pupils held a look of lust. He could've sworn you were mentally undressing him. You weren't. Instead you were thinking of how much you wanted him to undress you.
"I think that's a good idea." He could hear the smirk in your voice over the sound of the music as you let your lips gently brush his ear lobe while you spoke. He shut his eyes tightly and took a deep breath in an attempt to pull himself together. You were disappointed when his hand left your side but satisfied when it quickly intertwined itself with yours. His skin was softer than you were expecting, the rough patches slowly disappearing over the summer break. Your hands remained that way as you walked through the streets of Mykonos. Neither of you spoke, you just remained in a comfortable silence. As the villa came into view Charles was basically marching down the street, his strides increasing as your little legs tried to keep up. He dropped your hand when he reached the door, searching his pockets for the key to unlock it.
The villa was colder than you were expecting, a shiver ran down your spine as the air con hit you. You headed towards the kitchen and grabbed your sweater off one of the bar stools, sliding it on over your outfit.
“So you’d let Carla drive your car huh?” his face instantly broke out in a smile as you relieved some of the tension between you both. “You know that’s not true.” Charles followed you to the kitchen and watched as you perched yourself on the edge of the counter. He poured a glass of water and took a sip before handing it to you which you gratefully accepted.
“You’d let your date drive it instead?” He rolled his eyes as he chuckled at your sarcasm, hoping that you’d forgotten about the girl he’d sat next to during dinner as quickly as he had. “How many girls get a turn before me?” Although he didn't let it show, your question had offended him slightly. Despite his popularity with women he was never one to disrespect them, especially not you. He took a step closer to you, standing directly in front of your legs that were pressed firmly together.
“You’re the only one I want to see in that seat mon Cherie,” That was one nickname that he’d never called you, yet it rolled off his tongue so effortlessly. He leaned against your legs and you slowly parted them so he could stand in between, closing the distance between you both. “I’d let you drive it again in a heartbeat.” Your eyes were fluttering between his eyes and lips, your stare only breaking when he leaned in to speak in your ear just like he’d done in the club. He placed a kiss on your cheekbone and slowly worked his way up to your ear.
“You looked very sexy behind the wheel of my car.” You locked your hands with his while he continued to speak, closing your eyes in a desperate attempt to try and calm your heart rate down. You wanted to say something back, engage more in the conversation, but for the first time in a long time you were at a loss for words. You loved driving, you'd often join the boys go karting growing up and learned to drive as soon as you could, so when Charles asked if you wanted to drive his Ferrari back to your home after your Harrods shopping trip you were more than excited. It was a nice change from the train ride you were expecting.
He'd watched your eyes light up when you realised he was being serious. It was the closest you'd ever been to driving something even remotely similar to an f1 car despite it being different in so many ways. Your smile was infectious as you put your foot down on the motorway, leaving London behind. You'd never even driven an automatic car so this was a completely new experience. He'd taught you how to use the paddles to manually change gears if you wanted to and how to shift through its different modes as you drove around. The only disappointing part of the journey was reaching your destination, your trip home considerably quicker than you would've wanted. After spending the whole time focused on going fast and not crashing, you'd selfishly not noticed how Charles was feeling throughout the drive.
He'd been trying to keep his eyes trained on the road in front of him but couldn't help steal a glance in your direction every now and then. He was always surrounded by fast cars, something he realised after seeing you sat in his driving seat he'd begun to take for granted. He felt overwhelmed with pride, he was the one who was making you this happy. He felt privileged seeing you this free as your hair flew around in the wind while you rested a hand out the side of the car, trying to resist the force of the air pushing it back. It was his turn to be selfish as he realised that he always wanted to keep that moment for himself. He didn't want anyone else to make you feel like this, give you this experience. He wanted to be the one to make you smile.
“Don’t go quiet now mon Cherie.” That nickname. Again. “I think we still need to discuss what happened in the shower.” You instantly snapped back into reality at the mention of the shower. His hand fell from yours and toyed with the bracelet on your wrist. The one that you nervously played with in situations like these. The one that he’d gifted you last year. The one with his name etched into it.
The morning that you'd woke up in Charles' bed you were alone. An empty bed was something you'd become accustomed to over the past couple of years but in this instance it made you awaken quicker. The note left on his pillow stopped you from worrying, he was out on a run.
You respected his commitment to his career and took the opportunity to go for a shower. The warm water felt refreshing against your skin, goose bumps slowly appearing across your skin at the sudden change in temperature. Rubbing Charles shower gel into your skin you closed eyes and lent your head against the tiled shower wall. It wasn't clear at what point you'd become so aroused, but the steam from the shower and the smell of Charles covering you definitely had something to do with it. You allowed your hands to roam your body, his name unexpectedly falling from your mouth as you brushed past your breasts. The careless use of his name had caused your eyes to widen and your hand to clamp over your mouth. It had left you lips so naturally but felt inappropriate to say aloud.
It wasn't until a few days later that you realised he'd heard. He almost hadn’t. If he’d unlocked the apartment a mere three seconds later your words wouldn’t have reached his ears. His run had been sweaty and he was still out of breath but his panting soon stopped. His eyes widened as he heard his name leave your lips and he froze. He didn’t want to announce his presence, he knew he wasn’t supposed to hear it and didn’t want you to feel embarrassed that he had. He didn’t know what to do. He felt as though he was invading your privacy but knew that if he shut the door you’d hear it close and know he was there. So instead he stuck his foot between the door and the doorframe to keep it slightly open as he waited for the sound of the shower to finish running. He tried to focus on something else, anything else, but he failed. All he could think about was you, in his shower, without him and how badly he wanted to join you, just so he could make his name fall from your mouth the way it just did over and over again.
You thought you'd gotten away with it. He'd entered the apartment just as you were stepping out the bathroom and he'd acted as cool as ever. The weekend was slowly becoming a distant memory that you were trying hard not to dwell on, hating that you were missing his presence so much already. It wasn't until you were at work the following week that it became apparent your secret crush was no longer a secret. You were in the office early, earlier than everyone else. That wasn’t unusual, you liked to be in early as it often meant you could leave earlier too. What was unusual was the box placed neatly on your desk.
Although the small parcel was addressed to you, you opened it with hesitation. A small gasp left your lips as your unwrapping revealed a red box, the golden engraving of the word ‘Cartier’ on top. Confused, you gently opened to box revealing a bracelet.
You placed it on your desk as you searched for a note. Despite it being awfully obvious who it was from, you wanted some kind of confirmation or, better yet, a reason as to why someone had put this into your possession. You'd spotted it in Harrods with Charles. You hadn't mentioned it, just spent a few minutes mindlessly staring at its beauty. There was no point even considering buying it for yourself, the price tag was close to your yearly salary. Eventually you found the note.
'I've heard you like to moan it'
You picked up the bracelet once more, analysing it as you did so. It was so discreet, discreet enough that if the note wasn’t a big enough hint you might never have realised. His name. Etched into the inside of the band in the same font as the word ‘Cartier'. Any other name and he wouldn’t have been able to get away with it. No one had picked up on its personalisation in the past year. It had remained your little secret.
You gulped loudly, unsure of what to say next. The dull lighting hid your cheeks as they flushed red with embarrassment, just like they'd done when you'd read his note. Luckily it was situations like these you considered your stubbornness a strength. "All I could thing about was how much I wanted you to touch me Charles." With your lips dangerously close to Charles' ear you'd somehow managed to complete your sentence with confidence. The conviction in your voice had satisfied Charles although it was obvious that he hadn't expected it as he pulled his head back slightly to look you in the eyes. It was the first time you'd seen them so dark out of his crash helmet. They didn't have the same teasing smile paired with them as they did only a few moments ago. For a brief moment your heart dropped. What if he was just teasing you and you'd taken it too far?
"Say something." Your voice was barely audible despite the eerie silence that had settled in the kitchen as Charles picked up on your nervousness. His expression softened but he remained silent, placing his forehead against yours and gently brushing your noses. You both very quickly realised there was no longer the need for words. The last thing either of you wanted to do right now was have a conversation about what was going on because quite honestly neither of you were sure. All you knew was that as soon as the space between your lips closed, there was no going back. You were craving each other's touch and it was as though the kiss you were yet to share would be the seal of approval you both needed to explore each other in a way you hadn't before.
You'd had enough of the teasing, enough of the wondering and what ifs, enough of wasting time without knowing how his lips felt against yours. You moved your head up slightly brushing your lips with his before releasing one of your hands from his grasp and placing it on the back of his head, pulling it down slightly. As soon as your lips pressed against his you became overwhelmed with emotions. You relaxed into it, it felt so right. His hands began to explore your body, one placed on your thigh and the other tracing lines up and down your back, sitting on the counter top had worked in your favour as you wrapped your legs around his waist. It wasn't long before his tongue found yours as you let your hands snake beneath his shirt feeling his back and arms tense beneath you as he lifted you up from the side and placed you on the dining table which was at a slighter lower level.
His mouth left yours and you let out a small groan of frustration, he smiled at the sound as you realised he was only doing it to strip you of the sweater you'd not long ago put on, allowing him to rid you of it, not caring how cold it was anymore. In between the kisses he was placing down your neck you pulled his top over his head. Your eyes were trained to his shoulders as you admired him, only shutting when he re-joined your lips.
The sound of a key turning the lock at the front door caught Charles' attention. There was a high chance he'd consumed less alcohol than you tonight which is why he giggled slightly when you chose to ignore the sound and bring him back in for another kiss.
“WE’RE HOME” Arthur voice echoed round the villa. The sound of his brothers voice was enough for you to release him from your grip.
“Shhhhhhhhhhh, it’s 3am people will be sleeping.” Carla tried to whisper but the tiled walls carried the sound throughout the villa. You didn’t know if anyone else was home, you hadn’t checked and to be honest you hadn’t even thought about it. The only thing on your mind was Charles.
“Y/N and I are in the kitchen,” Charles called back. His eyes never left yours as he grabbed his shirt you'd thrown across the kitchen and redressed himself, not until Arthur stumbled through the door way knocking into chairs and making them squeal as the legs glided across the floor. You both watched as he regained balance and muttered a drunken apology before sitting himself on the floor.
"Good night Arthur?" you laughed slightly at the sight of him on the floor, he'd never been the most elegant drunk but at least he was entertaining.
"Great night." He confirmed as he laid himself down, a laugh leaving Carla's lips as she stared at the state of him. If someone had spoken to you a couple of hours ago you would've probably had a different opinion but as it turned out, you were starting to agree with him.
TAGLIST
@imthebadguyyy @abysshaven @phatyak
#f1 imagine#f1 masterlist#charles leclerc#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc one shot#daniel ricciardo#max verstappen#pierre gasly#lando norris#george russell#lewis hamilton#valteri bottas#carlos sainz
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I’ve been thinking a lot about the Hu Tao and Chongyun storyquests the past days. Both deal with the afterlife (well the border between life and death so far) and ghosts. We know both are canon in Genshin, they exist for this world. Now what I’ve been thinking a lot about is … how much angst can I write with that in mind? I always see a lot of these how the characters would react to your death but… yeah, have fun with this. Or not.
The ghost of you
Prompt: You died and the characters are faced with the literal ghost of you.
Genre: Angst, Hurt, no comfort (especially for Xiao)
Characters: Zhongli, Xiao,
Format: text
Word count: 1714
This is not proof-read or anything, I just wanted to get that idea out of my head. I also really want to write this idea out for other characters, so maybe I'll share a part 2 in the future. and yes the title might be a mcr reference and i might have two other fics in my drafts named after mcr songsi had a rough week okay
Zhongli:
He loved you. With all his heart, with every fibre of his being, he loved you so much. Zhongli always knew that his decision to live a life among mortals would cost a price, but in his mind, it was paid with his Gnosis all those years ago. It was not until the first of his mortal friends started to die that Zhongli was reminded of how fragile humans were. Of course, he was aware to a certain degree that he would outlive his friends and even you, he just never considered how quickly a human life was lived. You both had spent an entire life together, and while Zhonglis body did not biologically age, he is able to change his form to his liking - so when you grew old and grey so did he. Most people in Liyue would see the two of take your stroll around the city, holding hands and they were enamoured by the way you still looked at each other, just like a newlywed couple. But you grew older each day until one day, on one of your walks through the city, your collapsed. Zhongli was quick to catch you and the people around rushed towards the two, helping Zhongli getting you to a doctor. However, what was a doctor to do, than to tell Zhongli that your body is giving up? The doctor nor Zhongli can do anything against the flow of time, though Zhongli wished he could. He was not ready to let you go, he was not ready for you to onyl life in his memories until the erosion of the earth will erease you from them.
You layed in the hospital bed, Zhongli right next to you never letting go of your hand, when you took your last breath. He sat next to you for a while, not saying a word, tears running down his face until he heard your voice.
"It's okay," there you stood on the other side of the bed, your dead body between the two of you. In all the years Zhongli lived he had seen more than a few ghosts and he was aware of the human afterlife - though seeing your ghost wasn't something he anticipated. "You're dead", Zhongli said quietly, tears still spilling from his eyes. "I know, love. I know. And I wish I could've stayed with you just a bit longer, I really do. But it's time. You gave me such a wonderful life; we spend so many years together and I am so thankful for it Zhongli. For all the stories you told me, for all the sleepless nights we spend together, for all the memories we made. I loved it. I love you." Zhongli still hadn't let go of your hand, still afraid of letting you go, even though the mind he loved was standing so close to him. "Love," he started, his voice heavy with grief. "I have so many more stories to tell you. Will you stay, just for a while longer?"
At that you had to laugh a bit and oh, how much he already missed your laugh. He just heard it a few hours ago, when you were still alive, but hearing it now just felt so painful. "Zhongli, even 10 lifetimes wouldn't be enough to be able to listen to all of your stories. But I'm so sorry to disappoint you, you know I can't stay."
He knew this just too well. Not only as someone who worked for decades as a consultant of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor in Liyue, but also as the former Geo-Archon he knew it was better for you to go. It pained him that he could never follow you into the afterlife that was awaiting you, even Zhongli didn't know what awaits you behind the border between life and death. "Then," Zhongli began, standing up and letting go of your cold hand, "let me accompany you."
Xiao:
Continuation for the Xiao one
Xiao refused to go even near the place you died for decades. The day he lost you was still so fresh in his memories, it pained him even more than his karmic debt to think about it. He always told you, when you were still by his side, that when you were in trouble, in danger, to always call his name. You did. You always did and he would be by your side, protecting you from what would’ve harmed you.
The only time you refused to call his name in time was the day you died, and all Xiao could do was blame himself. You were visiting at the Inn earlier that day, standing next to him on the balcony talking about something he doesn’t even remember. What he remembers how happy you were, how enthusiastic you talked about it, whatever it was. Somehow though the conversation shifted, and you both ended up fighting – the reason for it was so stupid and it was all his fault. He was just in a bad mood that day and not even your warm presence were able to change it, so he let it out on you. Trying to push you away, again. Xiao cursed himself for how often he did that, how often he would hide how much he loved you, how much he cared for you, behind a mean exterior that only caused you pain. You knew what he was doing and that day, you just had enough.
“Stop trying to push me away, Xiao!”, you shouted at him, tears already filling your eyes. You tried to reach for him, but he pulled away. Keeping you at a distance, again. “And you just stop talking, it’s exhausting to hear your voice.” Xiao already hated himself immediately after he said it, but looking back now, knowing what his words caused… it drove him close to madness. “Fine,” you replied, and he could her how much his words hurt you, “then you’ll never hear it again.”
With that you left him. He tried to distract himself from the guilt he felt after your fight with his work, slashing through the enemies, spoiling the earth of Liyue with more blood. For nearly a month he didn’t hear you call him, and he was too scared to seek you out. Scared that you wouldn’t want to see him, scared that he ruined it all. When you finally called for him, when he finally heard you say his name – he hoped it was a chance for him to make it up to you. Xiao was not prepared to find your lifeless body, realising that you called his name with your very last breath. It send him into a blind rage, killing the enemies around him that were the cause for your death. When there was nothing left to kill he collapsed next to your corpse, tears spilling from his eyes, chanting your name over and over like a prayer. Asking himself why you hadn’t called him sooner to only remember what he said weeks prior. It was his fault. He couldn’t help it but to blame himself for your death. If he hadn’t said those words, if he hadn’t continuously tried to push you away… you were right. Xiao will never hear your voice again.
He avoided to go even near the place you died. If he hadn’t done that, if he had visited at least once, he would’ve seen your ghost, wandering aimlessly around. At first you were just confused, what had just happened? The last thing you remembered is that you called for Xiao and now? Now you stood in the middle of a forest, no Xiao in sight but also the enemies who cornered you just now were also gone. For how long you wandered around, confused and not sure what had happened you didn’t know. It scared you. You screamed his name, over and over again but you couldn’t hear your own voice. You just couldn’t make a sound.
He didn’t mean to come across that place again. Xiao learned to live with the guilt and grief he felt, just as he had to learn to live with his karmic debt. Still, it hurts more than he likes to admit. So when he stumbled upon the place he lost you all those years ago, he asked himself how he ended up here again. Something was telling him he should come here, but he tried to ignore that voice, that calling.
But when he saw your ghostly figure between the trees of the forest, it used to be a plain field when you had died, he froze. Was it really you?
“(Y/N)?”, he called out to you. Oh, how long he hadn’t said your name. It felt foreign, but also so familiar at the same time. But you didn’t hear nor see him, you were too lost after years of roaming the fields that grew to a forest – not being able to understand that time passed, that you were dead.
Xiao came closer to your ghost and saw how you screamed something, over and over. His name. It was his name. “(Y/N) it’s me, I’m here. Please, I’m here, it’s okay”, his voice was strained and when your face met his – Xiao noticed how you didn’t look at him. You looked right through him, he noticed now how he couldn’t reach you with his words nor his presences. He tried to grab you, but his hand only touched the air. If he could at least hear you call his name.
Xiao felt how his tears ran down his face, his heart shattering again in thousand pieces. Why hadn’t he noticed it earlier how you roamed the earth, lost and scared. He saw it in your face. Why didn’t he come here earlier? It pained him to know that you hadn’t found your peace. Xiao went down on his knees, face buried in his hands. The last time he felt so helpless was when he found your dead body, unable to help you. And now? Now it happened again, he had no idea what he could do to help you, to make you see him. From that day on Xiao spend most of his time watching over your ghost, hoping that one day he’ll hear you call out to him again.
#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#zhongli x reader#xiao x reader#angst#hurt#no comfort#gn!reader#zhongli#xiao#genshin#genshin impact angst#gensin impact hurt#xiao genshin impact#zhongli genshin impact#fan fiction#genshin impact fan fiction#genshin fan fic#writing#genshin writing#somewhere in the zhongli part i wanted to put a sentence like that was the day zhongli died and morax had to built himself a new life#or something liek that#and i really like the line i have in my head but it just did not fit with it#also i wnated to keep this short so eh
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𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠
Pairing: Shuntaro Chishiya x Fem!Reader x Suguru Niragi
Summary: The borderlands were already dark, they made you numb to death so long as you survived. When you become the object of desire for two psychopathic and sociopathic men, one of which is your ex lover, you find it harder to drown out the emotions you’re feeling and demons you're facing. Do you give into the dark desires and madness? But...aren’t we all already mad here?
Warnings: Explicit language, sexual situations, murder, death, manipulation, psychoanalyses, drugs, alcohol, suicidal thoughts and tendencies, more to be added as I write.
Genre: Alice in Borderland, very dark romance, angst, smut, a little fluff if you squint
Rating: Whoever is mature enough to handle the warnings above but recommended to ages 15 and older. DO NOT read if you are triggered by any of the things listed above.
Word Count: 5k
[Taglist] @bonnyskies @mylifeisafxingmess @kasaikawa @mercipourleslivres @dragoneye01 @bubb1ee-gum@nocturne181 @somegirl29 @pajerita19 @ddaenysus @imagine-t-h-a-ttt @queentorresstuff @rebirth-of-destruction @celestiacq @ryreads @beeissleepy
A note from your author — I’m so sorry this took so long, I just got out for summer vacation after an extremely stressful year so I’ll be way more active now. I have decided (with much hype from @imagine-t-h-a-ttt ) to post this in parts so I could give y’all something in appreciation for dealing with me. Expect more soon!! (It might not be AiB exclusively but I will be writing more)
The borderlands was a place where anyone and everyone was alone for themselves when it came to survival. “It’s every man for themselves,” you’d often tell yourself after a game since you walked away, sometimes alone, and others didn’t. After participating in your first heart’s game you learned that, and it was forever engraved into your mind. When you were cruelly taken from the real world you were alone in your room after your nightly shift as an SDF officer. All of a sudden the lights went out whilst you were changing out of your uniform before a shower which you never got to take. Deciding to investigate the outage, you threw your uniform back on and unbuttoned the jacket revealing your black sleeveless undershirt while keeping your green cargo style uniform pants and combat boots on. After grabbing your knife and placing it into your thigh holster, you explored your neighborhood to find that everyone was gone, cars were randomly in the street as if they had been stopped out of nowhere, and you were in fact alone.
“What the fuck is this?” You whispered to yourself as you were pulling out your phone to contact your friends only to see that it was dead. “Fantastic,” you grumbled, rolling your neck to the side to crack it and relieve the tension. Venturing back to your home you thought over what this could possibly be; an evacuation drill? Maybe a nightmare? Were you daydreaming again? No, this was too real and too strange to be any of those things. You needed to get out of this area, inspect and observe other parts of Tokyo to see what was going on. You thought you could find answers before it turned dark since it was only morning so you rushed home to pack a few things before heading out.
While at home, you grabbed your backpack and in it you put; a change of clothes, three water bottles, pain pills and a few snacks as well as your phone and charger in case you could figure out a way for it to work. In a haste you also threw on your side holster which held your nine millimeter handgun and two packs of ammo for extra precautions. After that, you set out on your search of the city. The first thing you thought of was to get in one of those abandoned vehicles however even though they were full of fuel, they wouldn’t start. “So phones and vehicles don’t work, neither does anything powered by electricity. Great.”
With that newly found information, you stepped out of the vehicle and began the long walk across Tokyo. Along the way you inspected stores, homes and even government buildings but found no trace of anyone but yourself. Where did everyone go? It looked so desolate without the constant buzz of people around walking, the tourists, the neon billboards. Everything was...dead. You spent the entire day walking further into the abandoned city which was once lively yet found nothing other than a restaurant with food which you took the liberty to eat at.
Upon nightfall, you were looking for a place to stay when a billboard lit up drawing your attention to it immediately. “This way to the game arena,” it read with an arrow pointing to the left. Turning your head in that direction you saw an area in the distance brightened by lights while everything else was still surrounded in darkness. “Game arena?” You whispered in confusion. Looking around at your surroundings you didn’t see any other lights other than that building which looked to be about three blocks away. You followed the arrows leading you to the designated arena which looked to be a botanical tea garden from a distance. You slowly approached the building while keeping your hand close to the blade strapped on your thigh in case someone or something appeared. As soon as you stepped across the final set of stairs leading up to the entrance, a line of red lasers appeared and quickly turned blue when a sound similar to that of a confirmation resonated in the area. “What is this?”
“It’s the threshold of the arena.” Turning in the direction of the voice, you saw a familiar face step next to you with the same sound chiming at her entry. “Holyn? How did you get here? Are you okay?” You asked quickly before hugging her out of relife, you were more than happy to see a familiar face in this apocalyptic place. She was your childhood best friend, the only reason you hadn’t seen or heard from her in a while was because of both of your working lives.She hugged you back even tighter as she was feeling the same way you were, scared, alone and confused. When the two of you released each other she began explaining everything she knew to you as the both of you started walking into the garden.
“I got here a few days ago and since then, I’ve asked around to see what others know about whatever the hell is going on. No one knows how we got here or what exactly this place is but everyone is made to participate in games of survival. You must participate or you’ll die. After winning a game, you keep the phone you had and you’ll be supplied with a visa. The visa tells you how long you have until you’re out of time here which is why you have to participate in games to renew it before it runs out. You must win each game, there is no other way to survive if you don’t. Do everything it takes so you live and move on. Anything with an electric circuit board or IC chip does not work whereas analog equipment like radios work and so do older vehicles.” She explained quickly as more people came into view. Your mind fogged with all of the new information, it was so much to take in. Then you realized you were just thrown into a game of survival and like she said; you HAD to win to survive. “But-” you had just begun when she silenced you, “pretend you’ve been here and done this. I know you’re confused and probably scared shitless but just pretend.” She instructed as you both entered the arena and quickly added one thing, “I don’t want to continue playing after this, I killed someone Y/n.” But before you could respond she shook her head and you did as she said, silencing yourself and putting on the facade you had mastered over the years.
Upon entry, you almost immediately noticed the two groups of people to the right each containing about six people and consisting of both males and females and the other group of six men. Gauging their distance to and from each other you could conclude the individuals in each group had played together previously and probably had strategies to compete with. As you and Holyn approached the area the others stood around, you glanced down to the table in front of all of you. ‘One per person’ the sign read with approximately twenty phones laid out beside it. Each of you grabbed a random phone and stepped away from the table into your own spaces, you and Holyn sticking closely together. If everything with a circuit board was destroyed, then why did these phones work? In the middle of your questioning the phone screen lit up with the text ‘facial recognition in progress’ before switching to another screen as you looked at the others subtly to see they were looking around as well.
“Registration has closed,” the phone chimed causing each of you to glance down at the small screen. “There are twenty participants. Game: Queen of cards.”
“Rules,” the automated voice said, “After putting on the designated collars you will be divided into two teams, one team will be the Jacks while the other is the Queen of Hearts. Find the Queen of Hearts, take her phone and find the safe zone. If the Queen is not found, it is game over for the Jacks. If the Queen is found, it is game over for her.”
“Does this mean it’s one girl against the rest of us?” Holyn asked with a small crack in her voice, making hit her as a sign to be quiet and do exactly what she told you to do. The two of you grabbed the collars they had laid out on the table, placing them on your neck after close inspection. You needed to seem like you had done this before, the last thing you needed was to be seen as the weaklings or newbies. “It’s a Hearts game, of course that’s what it means. We are supposed to turn on each other and play with others minds. It makes sense.” A male with his arms crossed over his chest said. He had played before, you could tell. The group of men he came with looked like they had been here for a while based on their appearance and calmness towards the situation.
“What do you mean ‘It’s a heart's game’?” A girl who looked to be about seventeen asked. It was obvious she was new to this like you, however, you weren’t letting anyone know that. “When you see the game card, you know the type of game and the difficulty of it. Heart games are those of psychological torture and betrayal where you mess with your opponents or friends minds and emotions. Diamond games are ones of minds and intelligence, often including solving riddles or puzzles. Clubs are by far the safest there is given they are teamwork and unity games. Spade games are physical, they test your stamina and endurance. The number of the cards tell you the difficulty levels; one being the easiest and ten being the hardest.” Another man explained to the girls. You listened attentively while looking down at your phone noticing this was a six of hearts game. Hearts. There had to be a way to do this without betrayal. But before you could think of anything further you were interrupted by the phone which spoke once more.
“The Queen will have one minute to hide before Jack's time starts, but she wont know she is the Queen until Jack's time begins.” The feminine AI voice instructed once more. The girls were to be hunted by the boys and even if they weren’t the Queen the males wouldn’t know. Even if it was a best friend. You noticed when the others came to the same realization as you as one guy started profusely apologizing to a girl who was shaking. This is a game of survival. “So that means-”
“You girls better run.” It came from one of the men and said with a sinister smirk. All the guys had to do to ensure survival was take our phones and get to the undisclosed safezone. However this was more than that. You saw the weapons on a board in the distance and you knew you weren’t the only one who did. Without a second thought, you grabbed Holyn’s hand and ran as fast as you could to get the farthest from any other person, vividly aware of the knife you still had on your thigh. She quickly followed behind although she didn’t have much of a choice with your iron-like grip on her wrist. After running a sufficient distance from the others you ducked into the shrubbery and crawled towards a dark corner to hide from anyone’s sight. She sat across from you as you both tried to calm your breathing while keeping yourselves hidden from anyone who might pass by. The phone chimed again, “Hiding time is up,” the voice said while a new timer appeared on your phone. “Ten minutes,” it read. An alarm sounded throughout the arena echoing off the walls of the indoor tea garden. “The game will now commence,” you heard just before seeing your screen turn balck temporarily with your role on it.
“Thank goodness, I’m a Jack. You are too right?” Holyn asked as you turned off your phone and looked at her with a smile as her voice echoed in your mind, “you must win each game, there’s no other way to survive,” so you pushed away the dread in your chest and replied “me too.”
No. You were the Queen.
The two of you sat still for about five minutes listening to the shouts and screams of the others until you heard sets of footsteps coming in your direction causing the two of you to duck down onto your stomachs out of fear. In the distance you heard a feminine scream echo off the glass walls followed by shattering sounds and more screams of “I’m not her” or “It’s not me” followed by the sounds of struggles. “Come out come out wherever you are,” one of the men closer to you called. You could tell he was near and if you two didn’t move, he'd find you.”We found the safe zone but none of the girls were queens,” you heard one say, “damnit, if they were still alive they could help us,’ the other commented making your stomach drop. “We need to run,” who whispered to Holyn knowing those men would have no issue killing you to survive. “Three minutes remaining,” the time was announced but you could hardly hear it due to your pulse thudding in your ears.
“Now,” you called quietly queuing the both of you to jump up and run, but it didn’t go unnoticed by the men. “There they are!” One shouted followed by the heavy stomps of footsteps behind you as they set in on the chase. “It’s only the two of you, just give us the phone and you’ll live.” You ignored him and kept sprinting towards the place you knew there were weapons. Without another thought you grabbed two weapons and handed one to Holyn to defend yourselves with until she came to the realization you loathed. “You’ve been the queen this entire time!?” She shouted at you as the stomping sound got closer and closer. “I’m sorry! You said to do anything it takes to survive.” You responded with tears clouding your vision. Never in your life would you have thought you’d be choosing your life over your best friend’s, not when the two of you had gone through everything together. “Two minutes remaining,” the voice announced reminding you of your impending fate. Holyn looked at you with emotions you couldn’t decipher, but you saw the way she relaxed even if it was slight. Why was she glad you chose yourself over her?
“Come on, let’s hide.” She said grabbing your hand and this time, she was the one dragging you along. She veered off to the right pulling you behind a fountain and kept running until the two of you collapsed onto the ground. “Remember when you turned fifteen and we decided to sneak out?” she reminisced laying between your legs against your chest. “Yeah, our parents almost killed us, we were grounded for months.” you giggled despite the tears falling from your eyes. As memories of you both flooded your mind you acted without control and shouted, “Over he--” to let the men know your location but you were interrupted by her hand clasping over your mouth tightly to silence you as she yanked you backwards into the shadows. “Shh,” she whispered, calming you while you sobbed into her hand, “I want you to live on for me, okay? Beat this game, we both know you are the only one who can. I know you can. I’ll be helping you from above if I can.” She soothed laying her head on top of yours.
“One minute remaining”
The tears wouldn’t stop as you moved to hug her tightly, never wanting to let go. “I’m so sorry.” you choked out in between gasps for air. Everything was too much, too loud, time was moving too quickly, you heard the men rapidly shouting and searching for you two as you clung to your best friend. Everything seemed to be happening so quickly, the seconds flew by while you were holding the only person you had left before she was to die. “I’m not. Thank you Y/n, I wouldn’t have made it any further anyways, I’m glad I can help you move forward. Don’t let me die in vain.” She told you kissing the top of your head before roughly pushing you off to get you away from her. “Holyn!” You shouted trying to latch back onto her when suddenly the collar around her neck exploded and her blood splattered everywhere. Your eyes and mouth opened wide in shock at what you had just seen. You could feel the specks of blood all over your face and body while you stared at her now decapitated one lying in front of you. She had just died, and it was because of you, because you were selfish and confused all while being scared.
You didn’t know how long you stayed there in total silence until you just collapsed onto the cold, hard floor beneath your feet. The silence was interrupted by your blood curdling scream of pure agony that echoed throughout the enclosed building. Your head came into contact with the ground when you curled over your knees and screamed once again while grabbing at your hair and banging your forehead against the cement. Tears flowed out of both your eyes as you cried out in horror, unable to rid your mind of the events that just occurred. You screamed until your throat was raw and your voice hoarse, you could feel the clumps of hair you pulled out of your scalp as your fingers dug deeper into your skull and worst of all, you knew you were alone now.
For days, you were numb. Five days to be exact. You didn’t do much but sleep, cry, eat, walk aimlessly to a new location and then repeat it all again the next day. You couldn’t shake the immense feeling of guilt you felt when you woke each morning knowing Holyn wouldn’t because of you. It wasn’t until you played your next game, an eight of spades, that you snapped out of the haze your emotions put you in. During the game, you had to climb a tree fast enough to avoid the arrows being shot at you from below as the height the arrows were shot increased each minute as you ascended the tree. You were ahead of the others until one man decided to start pulling at your ankles to hold you back which eventually turned into him trying to make you lose your grip and fall. In the moment he yanked your body down, you almost completely lost your grip on the branch keeping you from falling. It was then that you realized you weren’t going to let Holyn die in vain, you’d survive and push through everything to honor her memory.
After that, the “acquaintances” you made between or during games never meant much to you because in the end, you could only count on and rely on yourself to ensure your survival. You stopped moping around and became the version of yourself you had always wanted to become, the one that allowed you to turn off your emotions and step away from your chaotic thoughts. You now lived for yourself and yourself only, but even then, you never killed anyone intentionally.
A few days passed by but you couldn’t tell exactly how long you had been in this hell hole. You only played games when it was necessary which was only about two days before your visa expired. After overhearing someone in a two of Spades game talk about a place called “the Beach” and the people there “knowing how to get out here,” you started observing those who played games when you didn’t. It only took a few nights to see the connection between the group of people who entered games with tag numbers on their wrists being the ones who walked out. After you played a couple games with people with the tags on their wrists, you were convinced they knew something about the strategy of the games. Lingering in the shadows, you watched the participants of the game walk out of the arena and head down the street while you quietly followed behind. You must’ve walked for five minutes before you noticed where exactly the group was headed; a vehicle. “But I thought..” you whispered to yourself in confusion seeing them jump into the four seater 1970 cadillac while you stood still in your hidden position wondering what they were doing. Upon hearing the ignition of the engine you remembered Holyn telling you only older modeled vehicles were able to work here, but where did they find fuel? Not once had you seen an operable fuel station. “There must be fuel at the beach, there has to be,” you thought to yourself, watching as they drove off which only made you more determined to find this place and get the answers to your questions. And with that thought in mind, you set out on a journey to find this so-called “beach.”
As the vehicle drove further from your sight, you started jogging in order to tail them to their location while still keeping yourself out of sight. You ran for around fifteen minutes before you saw a building in the distance, a building which had power unlike everything else in the city. Seeing the destination, you stopped running and took a while to slow your breathing and regain your energy. “So this is the Beach,” you sighed observing the structure and its surroundings. The building itself seemed to be four stories tall and included a large pool in front where people partied as if they weren’t fighting for their lives everyday. You approached a fence which seemed to outline the perimeter of the area and carefully leaned over it as if you were watching a child’s game. You saw the vast amounts of people give into the pleasures of ignorance while deafening music thrummed in the background, even from the great distance you were, you could slightly feel the vibrations of the bass in your chest.
“Ah who's this?” you heard a cynical voice ask rhetorically from behind you. At the sudden and unexpected presence you jumped, turning around and swinging your fist to punch whoever it was out of instinct. When your right hand came in contact with a face your left twisted to grab the knife you still carried on your thigh in a holster. Just as you grasped ahold of the handle one of the two people delivered a knockout-blow to the side of your head just behind your temple which caused you to instantly lose consciousness.
When you awoke you were sitting in a chair with your hands tied loosely behind your back onto the chair with what felt like a burlap bag over your head. You let out a small groan of discomfort feeling your head pulse due to your new injury, one you would have to repay later on. Upon hearing your groan, the bag was swiftly removed from your head allowing the bright lights of the room to flood your vision which hadn’t adjusted making you shut your eyes with a silent wince. After blinking a few times you get adjusted, you were finally able to scan your surroundings. In front of you stood a man with shoulder-length hair, blsck sunglasses, an open kimono and red swim trunks, to his left stood a man with buzzed hair, a black muscle shirt and green military pants who you instantly recognized.
“Aguni?” You asked with confusion seeing the man you used to work with. He was here too? You weren’t surprised he was still alive, the man was invincible when you worked with him. And just like back then, he was silent, he only gave a small nod of his head to you as a response before reassuming his statue-like stance. To his right was a man with silver hair, a white Nike hoodie and blue swim shorts who looked at you in an inquisitive manner with tired yet sharp eyes. Two women who had black hair were standing to his right and a man covered in tattoos stood further off to the side holding a sword long in length, possibly a katana. A few other people were staggered around the room but none of them seemed to be as ‘important’ as the few that you noticed immediately.
“Aguni-san? You know her?” The man in the kimono asked the latter with creased brows showing obvious confusion. “We worked at the SDF together. She was my partner before we were assigned to different segments, she’d be a good addition to the executives or militants.” He responded while putting in a good word for you. “Someone like her? An SDF officer? If you hadn’t told me, Aguni-san, I would have never known.” The man remarked crossing his arms over his chest while walking over to a desk which he leaned on. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You questioned with a scowl in his direction as your fingers fiddled with the ropes binding your wrists. You would be able to get out of them in a matter of minutes if no one noticed what you were trying to do, but it seemed the man in the white hoodie already noticed as he raised his brow in your direction with an impressed smirk on his stoic face. “A pretty, small woman like yourself...I would’ve thought you’d be tagging along with someone and not alone. Actually I would’ve thought you’d be dead by now, much less an SDF officer.” He commented with a wry smile fanning out all your cards which contradicted his statement.
“If my cards tell you anything, you should know you’re wrong,” you hummed, resuming your attempt to loosen the ropes. “Ah yes your cards,” he began while pushing himself off the desk and slowly pacing around the room, “we want you to become a resident at the Beach after seeing the cards you’ve gathered. And after learning of your pastime, you would be a great addition to the team either way.” Of course he would want you once he saw the games you had played, you were good at surviving meaning you’d also be efficient in getting him the rest of the cards. “And if I don’t want to become a resident?” You questioned poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue out of habit. You were doing just fine on your own and definitely did not need this place, however, it seemed like they needed you. Or they needed your cards more so than yourself.
“Well if you choose to stay, you’ll be able to get out of this game quicker. We have a theory that once we collect all the playing cards, one person will be able to go back to the normal world. And if you choose not to stay, well, you can walk away from here but we will keep your cards. We have gathered all the weapons in the city, we regularly gather rain water and food which the game makers seem to replenish once a week, you’ll be taken care of here.” He explained pausing directly in front of you waiting for a response. Did no one else see the problem with him? How he was manipulating everyone to get the cards under the false security that they’d get to leave too? Or was everyone here really THAT ignorant? “It seems like you take my cards either way hm?” You suggested in a hum cocking your head to the right slightly in question. “You’re correct. However, now you would be higher in the rankings and an executive after making such a great contribution and having the skill set you supposedly possess.” He told you in an attempt to persuade you into staying while adding a bit of sweetness to the word ‘contribution’. When you simply looked at him with a bored gaze, he sighed and continued speaking.
“If you decide to stay there are only three rules. 1) "always wear a bathing suit". This is to be sure no one is hiding any weapons which is why our militants don’t have to wear them if chosen to do so. Rule 2) "be free to live your life exactly as you wish including alcohol, drugs and sex" and the third and last rule: "death to traitors".” He enlightened you on the standards they lived by to help you make your decision. It didn’t seem like it would be a bad choice if you chose to stay here, you’d have food, shelter, and people you didn’t know in case you had to play another game of hearts.
“I’ll stay but I want my knife back, if I have to wear a bathing suit you’ll be able to see it anytime since I wear it on my thigh.” You compromised whilst completely freeing your hands from their bound position but still holding the rope to hide suspicions. You hated the fact you’d have to wear a swimsuit because your scars would be visible but if it meant you could have your knife, you’d be more than willing. Hearing a few chuckles resonate around the room at your demand you brought your attention to one of the men in the back of the room who had a bandage on his cheek and a black eye. It was easy to come to the conclusion that he was the one you punched earlier, and the thought of that made you smile with pride while looking at him.
“You are in no position to make demands, sweetheart,” he practically snarled at you. You hated being called sweetheart, it not only made you cringe but it infuriated you beyond measure. With a deadly glare, you let go of the rope and stood from the chair in a swift motion and threw the ropes at him without a word which said everything you needed to. However, just as he caught the ropes you could hear the door being slammed open followed by a voice which was all too familiar.
“The traitors are dead,” the unknown man announced in a tone of pride, kicking the door closed behind him. His voice instantly brought back memory after memory causing you to turn your head in shock in order to make sure you were hearing things correctly. The man you were looking at looked nothing like the one you once knew. This one had piercings on his nose and eyebrow while he sported an automatic rifle on his shoulder and a psychotic smile on his face. “Niragi?” You whispered in shock, still unable to believe your eyes. Was this the same boy you stood up for in high school? He looked so....different. What exactly happened to the sweet, shy boy you once fell in love with? “Y/N?” He questioned letting his mouth fall open the slightest but before he regained his composure. It was him, Suguru Niragi, the first and only man you’ve ever truly fallen in love with, but also the man who disappeared without a trace three years ago. You knew he had left you, it wasn’t hard to figure that much out, but you never knew why and quite frankly, you didn’t care anymore. You had moved on.
“Fantastic! Another one of our own knows this charming young woman, this will make things a lot easier. Niragi, you may take her to the locker rooms so she can change into some fitting attire then you can get her an ID bracelet and take her to her room.” The man who you noticed had a bracelet tagged 001, exclaimed with a clap of his hands as he was instructing Niragi to get you settled in. “She can do it on her own,” Niragi scoffed with a roll of his eyes which had you throwing your head back in a sarcastic chuckle. “I’ll take her,” someone insisted from the side. Glancing in the direction the voice resounded you noticed the short pale man with the silver hair stepping out towards you. He seemed oddly familiar as well but you couldn’t quite place it.
“That’s settled then. Now, my knife?” You quipped raising a brow at the ‘leader’ in the kimono just before someone came from behind you pressing a cold piece of metal to your throat while their other arm was holding your arms in place by your waist. The room went silent as everyone watched what was about to unfold in front of them, Aguni simply rolled his eyes with a sigh knowing what was about to happen. “You mean this knife?” The man teased, his voice was one you recognized from one of the two men that brought you to this place and all you wanted in that moment was to stab him for that. So, naturally, you settled for the next best thing. Pushing your head forward a little while trying not to move your neck, you watched Niragi’s expression as you threw your head backwards with all your force resulting in hitting the unknown man’s nose.
When the back of your skull came into contact with his face he immediately lessened his grip on you which allowed you to slip out of his grasp and take your knife from his hand. With your knife in hand, you grabbed his wrist, twisting it and bending his arm behind his back while your other arm placed him in a chokehold. You leaned in close to his ear as he was fighting your hold before pulling him back harshly, putting pressure on his windpipe, “Never, and I mean NEVER, touch my knife again. Got it?” You growled and if you were being honest, you would’ve intimidated yourself. You didn’t wait for a response as you pushed him forward only to watch him fall onto the ground with a soft thud. “Now,” you sighed looking up with a smile which could’ve been seen as both innocent or sinister, “let’s go,” you said slipping your knife into the holster on your thigh. The man with the white hair stepped forward with his hands in his pockets and came to your side, briefly looking at Niragi before turning his attention to you. “Let’s go, shall we?”
#alice in borderland fic#alice in borderland x reader#aib netflix#aib niragi#aib x reader#aib chishiya#chishiya’s cheshire#alice in borderland chishiya#alice in borderland niragi#aguni aib#hatter aib#the beach#niragi x reader#chishiya x reader#shuntaro chishiya#suguru niragi#alice in borderland fanfic#malefic#aib#niragi#Chishiya#niragi x reader x chishiya#follow#fanfic#malefic part 1#aib series#chishiya shuntaro#niragi suguru#y/n
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