Kind of ooc Rhett Abbott, softie drunk!Rhett, dom/sub undertones, let me dom this man one time pleASE, reader is kind of a dick and moves in on their friend’s crush but we’re going to ignore it.
___
Rhett was larger than life in this town, at least from the way your friend described him. Half the girls in here were fawning over him. You thought maybe that was an exaggeration, given the hearts in Lara’s eyes as she tried to explain his allure. And that when you asked how long she’d been fawning for, her cheeks turned pink and she started stuttering.
You poked fun at her the whole way to the bar, not thinking much of it. You didn’t care much for getting tied up in any sort of complicated situation, not when you were here for work and only work. Cowboys be damned.
Easier said than done, it turns out.
—-
An hour into your trip to the bar with Lara your opinion may have changed just a bit. Maybe it was Lara’s play-by-play of every move Rhett made, squealed into your ear against your will, maybe it was the way those jeans fit his thighs so well but,, you kind of understood the obsession now. With every shot you and Lara downed your chest felt warmer, and her mooning became more over the top. At least, that was until another handsome cowboy asked her to dance, and swept her away in the blink of an eye. Then it was just you at the bar, eyes traitorously flickering over to Rhett and back without the excuse of Lara drunkenly waxing poetic about the color of his eyes and the size of his hands.
After all, you were only human.
The difference between you and Lara though, generally, was that you kept that information locked up tight in your chest. So he’s pretty, so what. You still don’t date cowboys and you still are just here to do a job. A contract job. A job that will have you leaving town again at the end of the month and never seeing that cowboy again. It’s something you should be firm about, fully sober you was so set on that. But now that you’ve gone and drank a bit… and maybe stared a bit too long at the curve of his ass…
…….and if he’s the one who sends you a drink from the opposite side of the bar, tipping his Stetson politely when the waitress points him out as the sender….
Maybe you’ll allow yourself one bad decision.
When he slides into the seat and asks your name all polite, the drawl in his voice making you feel some type of way, you tell him.
“I’m Rhett,”
“Oh,” you let out a little laugh, “I know who you are.”
“Do you now?” he laughs, and there’s a little smile drawn across his lips that you can’t tell if it’s cocky or self deprecating.
“Word travels, small towns, you know the drill.” you respond in a way you hope is flippant, eyes drawn down to the hand he has wrapped loosely around the neck of his own beer. You can see the tendons flex in his forearm as he swirls what’s left of the drink in the bottle, and your mind drifts a bit to thoughts of his hands elsewhere. You shake the thought away though. Goddamn Lara, it was like all of her horny thoughts had just been transferred to your brain.
“Wasn’t sure that’d be true for someone new in town.”
“How do you know I’m new to town?” you raise an eyebrow, pausing to take a sip of your drink.
“Word travels, small towns, you know the drill.” he repeats back at you, giving you a little grin that makes his eyes sparkle mischievously.
You roll your eyes at him good naturedly. “Okay, fair enough, I guess I walked into that one.”
He clinks his drink lightly against yours with a little wink, tipping back the rest of his beer, with you following suit. You definitely don’t use the moment to fixate on the line of his throat as he drinks.
“So what’s brought you to town?”
And then the conversation is easy, too easy, and an hour slips by and then two with the pair of you talking and laughing together months instead of minutes. Soon you’re both a bit too tipsy and you decide it’s time to head home, so that hopefully tomorrow your head will be on straight enough for work.
“Can I ask for your number? Or you gonna shoot me down all polite ‘cause you’re already spoken for?” you slide on your jacket as you think about how to answer.
“Nah, not spoken for. I just don’t date cowboys.” you smile, maybe a bit more wistfully than you meant to let show.
“Don’t s’pose I could change yer mind, could I? Cowboy break your heart r’ somethin’?” It’s a very kind pushback to your soft ‘no’, which just makes the war going on in your brain even harder to sort out. He’s so pretty,,, but -
“I think you’d have better luck with someone like my friend Lara, you seem more her type.” You nod over to your sweet tipsy friend on the dancefloor.
“Not yours?” he doesn’t even glance over to see who you had pointed out, he leans closer into your space. If you wanted to, you could tip forward and brush your lips against his, and the drink pleasantly warming you is making you feel like that’s the best thing to do right now.
“You want the real answer, cowboy?” You ask, closing the space between your bodies until the two of you are chest to chest. You see his eyes flicker down to your lips and up again, completely enraptured.
“Tell me,” he answers, voice so soft you only see the shape of it on his lips.
“You’d have to let me lead.” you whisper the words into the shell of his ear, drag a hand down his side to hold him by his hips, pressure light but firm. “Let me take you apart and put you back together.”
Here’s usually where you usually find resistance. Men who have some issue with the power dynamics and what it means about their manliness, men who take it as a threat and get angry, or men who simply aren’t interested. You think Rhett’s the latter. You’re almost taken aback when he sags against your hold, head tucked low against your neck. “You’d like that? You’d be good for me?”
“I’d let ‘cha, whatever you want.” You feel one of his hands sneak to your waist, just to grip onto your shirt.
When you tip his head up, one finger under his jaw, to look in his eyes you see them blown wide with desire, the deep blue eclipsed almost entirely by black.
“Anything I want, Rhett?” you lean in, brushing your lips against his in a barely there kiss, watching how his eyelashes flutter closed just for a moment. You can see his Adam's apple bob in his throat as he tries to compose himself. He manages a nod, eyes searching yours.
“Please,” he says, his voice a low rumble.
You smile, pleased. You place one open mouthed kiss at the hinge of his neck and jaw and watch his pulse jump. But then you step back, watching as his eyes widen. “You busy tomorrow honey?”
You slide your hand into his back pocket to take out his phone, typing your number in. “You call me tomorrow sober so I know you’re serious, ‘n I’ll take care of you. ‘Mkay baby?”
A boyish almost starstruck look washes over his face.
“You like when I call you baby?”
“M-yessir.” he says low, only slurring a little bit.
Goddamn fucking cowboys, he was going to kill you.
“Good, fits you.” You tip his Stetson up so you can press one kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” You make to leave, but he’s quick, loops a hand loosely around your wrist.
“Y’promise?” he asks, and you can see past the desire, past the drunkenness softening the edges of his expression, the vulnerability of his question. You can’t resist drawing back in and pressing a much gentler, sweeter kiss to his cheek.
“Promise.” You squeeze his hand gently and go to leave but he pulls gently again on your wrist. He looks even shyer now.
“S’not true what they say in town ‘bout me. M’ not like that not,” he seems to lose his train of thought a bit. “I like you. I haven’t.” You nod like what he’s said makes full sense.
“Rhett I think you’re pretty drunk, you’ll tell me in the morning okay?”
“M’kay.”
“And for the record, I like you too. S’ why I gave ya my number.”
That brings the full smile back to his face, and he tips back into sitting on his bar stool.
___
A/n: WE NEGOTIATE KINKS SOBER BABES #SAFE SANE N SEXY also if you have ideas for this hit up my inbox bc I want to do a bunch of short flash fics for this concept - there are already several ideas brewing
I have a Rhett Abbott fic planned next and a shorter drabble length one too,,, not sure which one will be out first I’m working on them at the same time 😅
Content Warnings: violence, past assault and rape mention (detailed at bottom of the fic if you need it to proceed safely), blood, drinking
You’re a fighter pilot brought to top gun. Everyone’s trying to figure out why your first unit christened you Vampire.
…
It had been three days. Three days since alighting on this island with every other top fighter pilot in the U.S. Navy.
You had initially planned to ignore the invitation; Vander, your loyal backseater WSO, was the one who pushed you to accept, and you had to admit a secret mission was intriguing. “Bring us back all the juicy details,”
Case patted him on the head patronizingly, “They aren’t going to be able to tell us details if it’s a top secret mission, Vander,”
But then there was the pull to stay right where you were. You like your current squad, the routine, the missions you were assigned. There was safety in that monotony, comfort in the known, as much as there can be with a job like yours.
But maybe it was time to make another crazy decision. (Also it was more of a summons than an invitation, rejecting it would probably have stalled your career. But that’s besides the point.)
And so you go and the other topgun candidates are rowdy but fun, and it’s all very nice and fun until the most obnoxious person you’ve met in a minute makes it his job to find out.
—-
It’s not like you didn’t think they would ask. You were in a different year in flight school so the others hadn’t even really met you in passing. You were also probably pulled in from the furthest remote location from all of the top gun candidates here, just another curiosity to add into the mix.
Jake Seresin just happens to be the first one to ask, with that annoying saccharine smile and southern drawl. Maybe if someone else had asked you would have just given a straight answer, but Hangman was annoying and flirty like he expected you to cave in, and you’d rather die than give a man like that anything he asks for. So instead, you smile sharp, “What do you think?” It’s not an invitation for him to guess so much as it is a line drawn in the sand.
He backs off but with the unintended effect of making every other pilot’s ears metaphorically perk up in curiosity. “Yeah Vampy, we haven’t seen you around before, what’s the callsign for?” Mickey asks from across the room. He throws a carefree smile your way and you wonder if that usually lets him get away with anything.
You’re saved from answering to the curious pilots only by Maverick’s lucky timing, beginning a lesson before anyone else has the chance to question you. Then you’re all so busy trying not to be shot down in training or dying of punishment pushups afterwards (seriously why did anyone have to suggest that?) that everyone either forgets or is too tired to bring it up. At least until everyone is back at the Hard Deck a day later.
This time it’s Rooster who mentions it, completely messing up your shot at pool which you promptly call him on.
“Well let’s make it a bet then, I kick your ass at pool, you tell us about that callsign.” he’s all smug smiles and bravado until you wipe the floor with him.
Honestly you hadn’t meant to build up your callsign as this much of a secret. It came to a head a few days later when some of the buddies from your old squad swing by the hard deck for some drinks with you and your, “Super Ultra Mega Flying Friends,” as coined by Vander.
Hangman goes from pestering you to pestering Vander and Case, each sat arm’s reach from you at the bar. You knew neither of them would talk if you didn’t allow it so you relaxed, mostly ignored what was going on, too focused on the cherry soda Penny had tracked down for you in the back; truly you were in heaven.
—-
Bob, ever kind and caring, comes over to sit by you sometime later, your knees pressed together against the side of the bar. “I know everybody else is pestering you and it’s all in good fun, but like. If they are bothering you and you want them to fuck off, you can just tell ‘em to fuck off. They’re annoying but they’re good guys deep down.”
Just then, a loud laugh comes from Hangman’s mouth halfway across the bar.
“...Some of them deeper down than others.” Bob tacks on the end regrettably. You snort.
“Yeah Seresin’s a real piece of work alright.” you sigh dramatically, bumping your shoulder into Bob’s, “but don’t worry, I’m fine. I really don’t mind people knowing, they’ve all just built up so much mystery around it themselves that it’s kind of entertaining.”
He gives you one of those tiny, barely-there smiles. “Okay, ‘cause I know you can handle yourself and everything, but uh, yeah. Just checking.” You give him back a sweet smile when you see he’s blushing a bit in embarrassment.
“I appreciate you asking Bob, it’s kind of you, really.” you put a hand on his shoulder as you slide off your bar stool. “Now c’mon, I want another drink and I’m not drinking alone.” You drag him playfully back towards Penny at the corner of the bar.
Bob’s ears turn pink because your hand laces with his to pull him along through the crowd, but you miss it. You’re busy ordering another pair of sodas and some sort of fruity drink.
Penny, however, does not miss the way Bob is trying desperately to act calm, and looks at him knowingly. She makes a locking motion at the side of her lips to him. It doesn’t help with the redness of his face in the slightest.
You’re oblivious. “Oh Bob! You look flushed, do you need to get some air?” you notice as you turn back towards him with the drinks.
“No! No I’m uh- yeah totally fine. I’m good. Just uh. Waiting to see if you need me to carry anything.”
You pause, but decide to believe him. “Sure thing, you grab these while I get napkins.” You pass over the drinks in your hands and he takes them from you, fingers brushing and making Bob jolt just a bit at the contact. He hopes you don’t notice.
“You sure you’re okay, Bob?” Fuck.
He nods again, a bit too quickly and for a bit too long. “Yep! Peachy!”
You raise a brow. “Okay, if you say so.” You reach over the bar to grab a few napkins off the top of the stack.
Bob is worried he’s going to have a conniption when he turns to speak again and finds you stretched momentarily over the bar, back curved in a way that is making a thought flash through his mind that his mama definitely would smack him for.
You turn around and Bob is just. Beet red. Staring into the middle distance.
“Bob?”
“Yeah- Bathroom! I gotta go be right back.” He bolts, talking all of the drinks with him, leaving you frozen in place at the reaction.
“What the fuck.” you mumble to yourself.
Penny seems to take pity on you though. “Don’t worry about it honey, he’s just fine. Trust me.”
You raise a brow. “You sure?”
“Sure do, see it all the time.”
“See what exactly?”
Penny just taps her nose, like you’re supposed to understand what that cryptic-ness means. She busies herself with other customers before you can ask any followup questions, so you decide to just slide back over by your squad mates, leaning on the bar because all of the seats have been taken. It takes a moment for you to tune back into the conversation, half of your mind worrying about Bob, but when you do, you aren’t surprised. Hangman and Rooster are arguing back and forth about something, Phoenix is rolling her eyes, Payback is egging them on, and Mayday is recording the whole thing. Pretty on brand for the last few days you’ve spent working with them.
—-
Case wanted to wait and have them keep guessing, since you hadn’t spoken up yet, but he and Vander caught your eye, saw you give a shrug. “You guys tell it better anyways.”
Still though, you knock back the remainder of the drink in your hand, snagging a second one immediately after.
Vander was kinder and eventually gave in. “Vampire’s right they tell the story with not enough drama and badassery.”
He clears his throat dramatically.
“Gather round pilots, it's story time. So, that call sign is one Vampire got years before joining us, from the squad they were first in just out of flight training. It wasn’t a kind nickname. There was this fucking guy - bastard of a man - didn’t like Vampire being the best pilot in the squad by a mile, that misogynistic lame ass piece of-“
“Vander.” Case cuts him off, gesturing vaguely for him to circle back to the point.
“Sorry, right. Anyways, he decided to take ‘matters into his own hands’ to ‘knock them down a few pegs’. You know, the way cowards rationalize being cowards. Waits until Vampire’s exhausted from a day of training and everyone else has left, locks em both into a storage closet where the cameras don’t reach on base, tries to rough them up. Point blank, he assaulted them, tried to rape them. But his neck got too close to their mouth while Vampire was fighting back like hell and in defense-“
Case cuts in like he can’t help himself. “Yeah Vampire collapsed one side of his trachea in and ripped off like half the skin there with their teeth. He had to get medivacced to the nearest emergency surgery hospital. Vampire is way kinder than I am. I would've let him bleed to death for that.” Case admits without a trace of remorse, voice low and filled with a burning anger.
“But yeah the rest of the squad thought that callsign ‘fitting’ for ‘what they did to him’ because of course they took a man’s side. That whole squad was dissolved and Vampire joined us only a few months later because as you can imagine that much bullshit in one unit is glaringly obvious at a certain point. But when Vampire told us they kept that callsign anyways we thought they were nuts.”
“You’ve always thought I was nuts.” you interrupt, smiling softly at the two of them.
“Yeah well daredevil flying skills aside, Vampire.” Vander throws a dramatic eye roll your way. “But it's honestly a sickass name. You fought someone and tore their throat out to survive.”
“Yeah they looked like an avenging angel, blood dripping from their mouth as they dragged this asshole to medical.”
You smile to yourself at the way your squad describes it. You sound larger than life, powerful.
“You two weren’t even there, how do you know?” you tease. You do know, though. They were the two that stood behind you in court as you took him to trial. They saw the hallway cams of you, bloody and focused, dragging him and leaving a trail smeared down the tile behind you.
It didn’t feel powerful in the moment, the shock made you feel like you were underwater and your brain had switched to survival - get teammate to medics, care for own wounds, assess for additional enemies. It took days in the hospital for your senses to return to you.
Your new squad had healed that drifting feeling inside you, until you felt that power, that your survival was herculean. Vampire was a callsign you had forged in blood, even if the name wasn’t picked by you. It was yours now, a name that showed your strength and power.
“Well… shit.” Natasha says, voice filled with respect. “Hands down that’s the most badass callsign I know of.”
“Thanks Phoenix, I’m not sure it tops yours though. You’ll have to tell me where you got yours sometime.”
—-
CW: Description: In their past mc was assaulted by a member of their original flight squad, he attempts to rape them and fails; reader is able to successfully rip at his throat with their teeth and collapse part of his trachea. They fall into a state of shock and there’s some confusion for the reader in this state about their assaulter and squad member. They decide to drag him to medical to save his life. It’s unclear if this decision would have been made if reader was not in a state of shock/trauma.
CW: reader has past physical injuries that are referenced, self harm, depiction of injuries/care, sobriety mention
Two people circling each other like two planets trapped in each other’s orbit.
…
Bob has a crush on you, and with the amount of time the two of you spent around each other it’s starting to become a problem, for his own sanity.
You were unavoidable, what with the whole you being assigned as his regular medic. Not that he would ever want to avoid any time he can be with you, not at all. Even if it meant embarrassing himself and tripping over his own words when you spoke even a sentence to him, or blushing more than he has in the rest of his life.
From mission related incidents to the smallest paper cut, Valentina wanted everything logged, every bit of data on his regeneration capabilities stored. And that meant a lot of visits down to medical. It became easier for you to bring medical to him, a packed go-bag for any time of day when the Thunderbolts™ rolled back into the tower, or any time Bob had an accident.
Bob was clumsy but Sentry was careless and the Void…. Void would hurt just to hurt Bob.
It ranged from bloody knuckles to resetting fingers, to stitching up leg injuries to - one time - one that you and Bob still haven’t spoken of again - a long vertical slice up his forearm that bled faster than he would heal, the blood wasn’t coagulating - your hand slipping and slipping on the needle in the red as you choked down your own panic and tried to remember your training.
You try not to think of it at all, but it still comes to you in nightmares.
You have Bob’s promise that he’ll always come to you if he feels too low but sometimes it’s not enough. Sometimes it’s the two of you in the bathroom, a wad of gauze pressed hard to his wrist to stop the bleeding while he repeats sorrys like your indifference might damn him and your forgiveness would be salvation. You’re far from indifferent.
Even when he’s in his lowest lows he wants to hear from you, hear about your life, how your day has been going. He says it’s because it helps ground him in reality, but you’ve also heard him say to Yelena that he could, “Listen to you forever because [he] loves the sound of your voice.”
—
Sentry comes to you out of obligation and maybe his own curiosity. He asks lots of questions when he’s in the forefront instead of Bob, and usually they’re questions about you. It’s… sweet in a way.
Sentry admitted in passing once that they’re questions rattling around in Bob's head for so long that he, “for some god forsaken reason won’t just outright ask you about,” and Sentry got tired of the internal decision making spiral. So he just asks the questions instead, simple. The questions are very Bob too, so it seems like Sentry is telling the truth; what kind of flower is your favorite, does it change with the seasons, do you think Yelena would better in a handstand contest than Bucky, do all shrimp see shrimp colors, the sheer change of energy and put upon nature Sentry asked them with made you feel comfortable making that connection with him through Bob.
And with nearly eight months with the team now, you’ve also met Void.
The Void you spoke to only once, near the 6-month mark with the team. He must have slipped through when Bob was sleeping, given the late hour when he appeared in your room. The door to your room (also in the old Avengers tower for convenience) doesn’t open, but the shadows elongate and creep over the moonlit floor, and the primal feeling of not being alone in the dark chills your skin.
He says very little, and his words are cold, not cruel. He doesn’t try to touch you, to bring you into the nightmare rooms you’ve heard Bob describe to you. Mostly he just stares at you, transfixed and a touch creepy, and you stare back unflinchingly because what else was there to do? “I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about.” He speaks, unprompted, his voice like a mockery of Bob’s soft tone, “The other two in here are always thinking of you. You seem so ordinary.”
He refuses to clarify, refuses to let Bob back, just stares awhile longer and then disappears, taking the shadows with him.
You have to report the breach - none of the alarms in the compound meant to keep you safe were triggered, jesus fuck - which leads to a meeting of disgruntled pajama-wearing superheroes in various states of awakeness on the top floor with Valentina. Alexie falls asleep five minutes in and begins snoring at a decibel that forces Valentina to give up and yell at us all to meet with her in the morning instead.
The whole encounter baffles you and everyone else in the compound, but out of everyone Bob seems the most upset. During the meeting you can see him beginning to tear up, a tide of emotion spilling out of him the moment the others have already left. “He- I- he could have hurt you.” he’s trembling, eyes watering as he grips your hand tightly. “I’m s-so so sorry.”
You squeeze his hand back reassuringly. “But he didn’t. I’m okay.” Truthfully you’re shaken, badly, but Bob seems so worried that you’ll hate Him for something the Void did that you push the worry to the side, pulling him into a tight hug. “I’m not hurt, and what the Void does isn’t your fault, okay? We’re gonna figure out how to manage this better but I am Not mad at you Bob.” He hugs you tighter and you feel tears staining your shirt. A quiet, shuddering sob escapes his mouth as you hold him, one you can tell he tried to hold back and gave up half-way.
You hold him softly, combing your hands through his hair as you sit in the now-empty room. It comes into your mind randomly that he must have gone to get a haircut recently; the strands along the side of his head are shorter than you remember. You tuck a lock behind his ear and wonder if this was a late night project with Ava’s help or one he had gone and gotten on his own. Lost in thought, you press a soft kiss to the crown of his head and he shudders, maybe not from crying anymore. It feels like you’re holding him together.
—-
Bob doesn’t believe someone like you, someone good and kind and wonderful, could consider someone like him. It doesn’t make sense, especially when you’ve seen the darkest shameful parts, the scar lines, the fresh ones, for gods sake you’ve had to deal with Void. But in moments like this, moments where you just exist with him, it feels like something. Something different than he shares with the others. All he knew is that he was royally screwed and fully in love with you.
You were just so…kind. And not in a pitying kind of way, it naturally flowed out of you and made everyone around you feel warm. Maybe that came with being a medic, but he didn’t think so. It was something uniquely you that shined like trapped starlight.
And so Bob stayed quiet, because he liked the gentle way you touched him, the soft hand at his elbow, the way you absentmindedly brushed his hair back when it fell into his eyes, like second nature. He liked when he made a bad joke that you would laugh anyways, sometimes bump his shoulder with yours when it was overly cheesy.
“You’re not a test subject, you’re my friend, Bob. Okay? Tell everybody else in there to lay off, huh?” you give a soft knock on his forehead for emphasis and he gives you one of the small cracking smiles that twists your heart right out and drops it to your stomach.
“I-I know.” he says, stuttering through his words because it feels like a lie. His eyes dart all around the room, anywhere but at you.
You don’t call him on it though, just smile and squeeze his hand. “Well I’ll keep reminding you anyway, hm?”
And he notices more and more that when he feels low, when he’s practicing what his therapist taught him to keep the darkness from pulling him under, the mantras, the breathing,,, the voice in his head telling him to keep it up and keep going sounds just like yours.
—
You sit together silently a lot, shoulder to shoulder on the balcony, or one-seat-cushion-over on the couch reading your respective novels of choice. Sometimes he asks about what you’re reading. Once he asked about the web of scars on your hand, not to pry for a story, but to ask if you were in pain. You tell him no, not anymore, but flex your hand anyways with muscle memory. He softly, hesitantly, covers it with his own and gives a gentle squeeze. He doesn’t ask, but you give the story freely, about how you’ll never be cleared for field work again because of it, but being a medic has ended up feeling like home. And he just sits and listens the whole time as you stop and start through your story, eyes for once brave and not skittering around the room but looking directly as you share something you’ve never shared with anyone else.
There is a soft pain building a space between your ribs that grows and grows every time Bob smiles at you.
There’s one rainy day that Bob dozes off against your shoulder, book forgotten, the soft whistle through his nose of someone deep in sleep. You run your hands absentmindedly through his curls, a habit you’ve gotten into, and he just… buries himself into you in his sleep. His arms wind around your waist, face tucking into your shoulder like it was always meant to be there. You let him, god you let him and you know it’s blurring some sort of professional line but you can’t push him away, you don’t want to. You sit like that for more than an hour, Bob sleeping tucked into your lap like even asleep he’s trying to make himself smaller, and you trying valiantly not to read into the situation like your traitorous heart wants you to.
He wakes up startled and blushing, unable to even stammer out a sentence. Even his neck has turned pink in his nervousness.
“Bob, it’s fine. You fell asleep right next to me. If I wasn’t fine with you cuddling me I would have moved you.”
“Oh,”
“Yeah, so stop feeling embarrassed and come give me another hug, you look like you’re going to shake into pieces.” He quickly flattens his shaking hands against his sides, then ruefully lifts them up again when he realizes you obviously noticed. One of his small, barely there flickers of a smile appears across his face, the kind he gets when you see through his act.
You pull him into a soft hug, and wait until you feel him relax to let go again. It takes a few minutes to feel his shoulders untense, and another few before he suddenly remembers to hug back. It brings a sudden smile to your face that you bury in his shoulder, not wanting him to think you’re laughing at him.
The two of you stay like that, still and silent, just breathing, until you give a gentle squeeze and slowly pull away. But then you realize your mistake, because he looks up at you and you realize just how close he is to you. You try, desperately, not to glance down at his lips. You succeed, playing it very chill and cool (not), but you see his eyes flicker down and back up again, and the tips of his ears turn red. In a split second he scrambles back to the opposite end of the couch. “Um, I-I, sorry um, uh I should go. Yeah.”
You’re flustered and don’t think to stop him before he’s already disappeared out of the room. Your heart beats at a rabbit's pace in your chest, traitorously replaying that moment over and over again. He definitely looked like he wanted to kiss you, holy shit.
—-
Bob is freaking out in his own room.
Sentry was making it worse. It was like a secondary monologue live-streaming in his mind of exactly everything he said wrong or should have said. Super helpful, super useful feedback for when your long-term crush is suddenly possibly ruining everything.
—-
“Ah, fuck it.” You mutter, and stand from the couch. You make your way to Bob’s room before you can lose your nerve. You open without knocking, stepping into the room to see him frozen like a deer in the middle. For some reason your mind focuses on his mismatched socks, one slouched down one up, and some part of your heart feels sharp pain. Your Bob, your sweet sweet unsure Bob.
You cross the room, stop a hair’s breath from him. One hand slides up to tangle into his hair and you watch as a bright blush spreads across his cheeks.
“C’mere,” you murmur, gently guiding his head down to yours, softly pressing your lips to his. He lets out something between a shocked squeak and a moan, pressing into you, immediately asking for more. The kiss quickly deepens, he kisses like he’s starved, like he’s putting everything into this moment. It’s the polar opposite of the hesitance of his hands, shyly resting on the sides of your waist, barely touching, like he’s not sure how much he’s allowed to have. “I won’t break, Bob, if you want to touch me you can.” You whisper it softly against his lips in between breaths. You card your hand through his hair as he just melts further into you.
His hands move immediately from your waist to fully around you to hug, which pulls tight at your heart. Your sweet sweet Bob. You hug him back tightly, chest bursting with feeling. You can’t see his face with how he’s tucked it into your neck, so you ask, “Are you okay?” you feel the nod against your shoulder. “Overwhelmed?” another nod. “Good or bad kind.”
He tips his face up just enough to be able to meet your eyes. “Definitely good. I-it’s good.” You can see glazed eyes and kiss bitten lips, pretty freckles like stars.
“I’m glad,”
“Could we, um, k-kiss again?” His eyes are nervous and hopeful, you can feel his hands fidgeting at your waist.
You feel your smile split so wide that it hurts your cheeks. “‘Course you can, Bob. Do you want to?”
He nods so quickly, “Please let me, yes.” his voice comes out breathless.
And hell if that doesn’t cause a curl of heat low in your belly.
He kisses you more surely this time, cradles your face in his hands in a way that makes your heart melt as much as it sets you on fire. You grip the back of his sweater like a lifeline, trying to pull him closer even though you’re already pressed together. It sends fire through your veins hearing his soft gasp as you slide your tongue along the seam of his lips, asking. He opens for you willingly, letting you take and take.
He’s so soft and pliable in his oversized sweater and sweatpants, looking at you like you hung the moon, and you never want this moment to end. Your emotions feel heightened almost to the point of bursting with joy. This was really happening, not in a dream, or a daydream. You realize you’ve frozen, just staring at him for a bit too long. You see the slightest shadow of worry pass over Bob’s face, “A-are you okay? Did I- Did I do something?”
You kiss him again, hard, enough to remove that furrow in his brow, that shadow of doubt. “Nothing like that, you’re perfect.” A blush crawls back over his cheeks. “I was just thinking about how lucky I am to have met you and- I just don’t want to rush things? It’s not that I don’t want this,” you gesture rather pointedly downward to where something insistent is pressed against your hipbone, “I definitely do, but also I’d like to wine and dine you. I’m not one to really half ass it.”
“Yeah. Gotta whole ass it.” Bob says solemnly, causing you to snort and then the pair of you to break into giggles. It’s awkward and ridiculous and breaks the small tension that had built up in the room, pushing you both back into the warm and comfortable silence of two people who have existed in each other’s space for years.
“So, is that a yes then? You’ll let me take you on a date?”
“I haven’t been on a date in.. wow like a long time. Since maybe before I got sober I- I’m just,” his voice gets quieter and quieter. “I’m worried I’ll disappoint you.” It pulls hard on your heart.
“You won’t.” you say simply. “I’ve seen the parts of you that are harder to acknowledge and I’m still here, I still want you. I have for a long time so just - trust me, okay? I know what I’m asking and I’m still asking.” you give his hand a squeeze.
“Okay, then yes- yeah. I-I’d like that.” You can’t resist leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.
Content warnings: MDNI, power dynamics discussed (vague), (vaguely dom reader, sub Viktor, discussion suggests they’re both verse)
A/n: honestly I just wanted to write smut that’s inclusive and honest and HOT abt sex w a disability and what support thru that can look like (source: I am also disabled similarly)
A/n: Vitka and Vitya are both nicknames for Viktor in Rus (I chose Russian instead of Czech bc I speak Czech not at all.)
…
It started out innocent enough.
Jayce was trying and failing to copy Viktor’s accent, the pair of you giggling every time Viktor looked up from across the lab.
“I don’t sound like that.” Viktor appears like a ghost behind you both, startling you enough that Jayce lets out a yelp.
“Come on, it is good no? It’s close.” Jayce tries again, this time with hands up to block the random strewn book Viktor lifts to smack him with.
“Not even a little, it’s very bad.” Viktor says seriously, the corner of his lip twitching as he pushes down a smile. You and Jayce remain the only people allowed to tease him, even though he pretends he doesn’t like it from either of you.
“And, lovely assistant of mine, are you going to give it a shot?” Viktor asks, and your eyebrows raise.
Lovely?
“This feels like a trap. You just want to smack me with the book too.” You point a finger accusingly at the ready position Viktor is holding it in. Had he called you lovely? There’s a blush spreading across your face already, you can feel it heat your cheeks and ears.
Viktor gives a shrug, imitating nonchalance. “Fine, don’t.” A small twitch of his lips gives him away, he’s laughing at you.
As he turns, you have the sudden urge to make him eat his words, to maybe make him feel a bit embarrassed too.
Your eyes crinkle a bit at the corners as you smile wide, switching back to common for Jayce’s benefit. “I know some, not a lot. But my accent is bad.”
“No it’s-“ Viktor catches himself, eyes wide at what he had almost just spoken aloud. What would have even come out? That your voice was deeper when you spoke in his native tongue and it made him want to sink to his knees in front of you? That hearing a language so far back in his memory felt like pressing hard on a bruise?
Gods, and did that mean when he called you милый (darling) when he was too tired to catch himself, that you Knew?!
Victor’s eyes widen and widen, still frozen in place. You see his hand tighten on his cane, knuckles almost white.
“I’m sorry if I startled you. Viktor? You’re looking a bit panicked.”
“You’ve been able to speak my language this whole time?”
“I mean yes, I had friends as a kid who spoke it so some just kind of,,, stuck.”
“Oh.” he says rather intelligently.
“Yeah, I didn’t mean for that to even be a secret it just kind of doesn’t come up? I guess? I’m not good by any means.” you demure.
Viktor’s ears are red. He can feel them burning but refuses to draw any more attention to it.
“Viktor?” you stand awkwardly frozen across from him, unsure of what you’ve done.
“Nothing, it is nothing. Your voice, it is much deeper when you speak in it.” he attempts to respond evenly but somehow it sounds breathless even to his own ears. He clears his throat to try to cover it.
You raise an eyebrow. “And you,,,, like this? About my voice?”
Jayce coughs pointedly in the background. “Should I uh. Leave?”
Viktor turns and says “no” in the same moment you say “yes.”
Twice in a row now you’ve shocked Viktor enough for it to be plain on his face. He twists from Jayce back to you almost unconsciously.
“I think Viktor and I need to have a deeper conversation about this, Jayce, would you mind?”
Jayce, who is very much confused about the ‘vibes’ of the room and whether or not the two of you are going to fight or fuck, decides to take that moment to slide over to the door and make a quick exit.
“Sure thing, I uh, need to head to the forges anyways. Bye!” The door closes soundly behind him.
You turn your full attention to Viktor. “You called me lovely.” you state.
“When did I do that.”
“Viktor! Literally just now, less than five minutes ago? ‘Your lovely assistant?’”
His mouth pops open in an “oh” but the sound doesn’t come out.
“I think I’ve figured you out, Vitka.”
“Vitka? Oh are doing nicknames now are we?”
You smile blithely, “I think it’s fitting.”
“And what’s that?” he swallows and sees your eyes track to his throat and up again.
You take a single step forward, now within his space. You can see him struggle to keep his eyes from going to your lips and fail.
Another step, and you’re close enough to breathe the same air.
Viktor thinks to himself that if he tilted his lips just so, your lips would brush. Oh how he wants to.
You move slowly, tipping your head to meet his eyes, running a hand along his jaw the way you’ve craved to do for so long. He leans into the touch almost subconsciously. It makes something soft and bright burn in your chest as his eyes close. You brush a thumb across his cheek.
“Will you let me kiss you?” You whisper it like a confession in his ear.
“You are my assistant.” You can see him conflicted, eyes shifting anywhere but directly towards you. “The power dynamics alone make this unethical.”
It makes you smile softly, that it’s something Viktor has concern over. “Is that why you’ve never said anything before?” You brush some of his hair back from his face, dragging nails lightly over his scalp, and his eyes flutter shut again at the contact.
“I promise, Vitya, the power dynamics are not something I’m worried about.” you grab the hair at his nape and give a gentle pull.
His eyes haze over and a soft groan escapes his lips.
“I don’t want to try to convince you to do something you don’t want Viktor, I’ll stop if you’d like me to.” you softly release the hold you have on his hair, dropping the hand to his shoulder. “But don’t hold yourself back if it’s on my account.”
He’s silent, eyes half lidded with open desire for you.
“Words, darling.” You whisper to him.
He kisses you instead. It’s gentler than you expected, a short press of his lips to yours. He cups your face so reverently between his hands. It brings a bright heady grin to your face. “So yes?”
“Yes, gods.” he mumbles against your lips, kissing you again, and again. They’re soft kisses, after every one Viktor opens his eyes like he’s afraid you’ll have disappeared in the time it takes him to look again. His hands trail through your hair slowly.
“Jayce is, ha,” a soft moan breaks his sentence as you press a kiss to his jaw, “he’s- going to make fun of me later.”
“Why’s that?”
“I just yelled at him,” a cough, “last week for having relations in the lab among all of the Sterile Equipment.”
You snort. “Your timing is perfect as always.”
You mouth along his neck, encouraged by every breathy sound that comes from Viktor’s lips. He tilts his chin to the side to give you better access.
Your lips come to the base of his throat and stop, your fingers pulling gently at the collar of his shirt. “May I?”
He nods quickly, “Please,, do.” The words come out in two separate breaths.
You slide your hands over his collar and unbutton one, two, three, pressing more kisses to his exposed throat and chest. You press one over the side of his chest covered by the brace as well, glancing up to gauge his reaction.
A funny little smile has made its way to his lips. One that you file in your brain to ask about again later, when you’re less focused on getting him to whine again.
You move down further, rucking up the fabric of his shirt to reach more of his chest instead of wasting time with the rest of the buttons.
One of your hands is anchored softly to his back alongside his brace, pressing him closer to you as you lean down, pressing kisses between the rib spacings of the brace, using a bit of teeth in the areas where you can hear his voice catch.
You’ve kissed low enough now to be just above the edge of his pants, and run a few teasing fingers just beneath the band of fabric, before leaning back up to catch his mouth in another kiss.
It becomes filthier, louder. Viktor’s tongue is in your mouth and he’s pressed close enough that you can feel his excitement lower. He’s not holding back how, his hands are all over every inch of you he can reach.
Your shirt ends up discarded somewhere on the floor, followed quickly by the tank beneath.
Your hand moves to the button of his pants and he pauses only slightly, hands still splayed across you. “My knee, it’s-“
“Do you need to stop?” you ask, just to be sure. You pause anyways.
“No, it’s,” his cheeks flush a bit, “not that. My, ah, pants can’t come off with the outer brace still on.”
“Oh,” you brighten, “of course, here.” You press him gently on his sternum, guiding him back onto the lab table to sit.
And then, because you can’t resist, you lift on both knees to spread his thighs open for you. Solely so there’s room for you between them, of course. It makes Viktor blush hard enough that he tries to cover his face as you sink to your knees, working smoothly to undo the knee brace mechanisms.
“How did you-“ Viktor pauses, coughs, “how did you know how to take this off so quickly? I designed the supports myself.”
You blink. “To make sure I could fix it for you, if you ever needed it.”
Something passes across his face for just a moment. “But you’ve never seen the parts up close before now, it must have taken-“
“Days, yes. To reconstruct without bothering you with invasive questions.” You press a kiss softly to his cheek. “I hope that doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable?”
“No, no it’s.” Kind of you. Thoughtful in an unobtrusive way, in a way that doesn’t step all over his autonomy. It makes something bright in his chest burn.
You just nod, like you’ve read his mind. Your hand comes back up to his hair again, softly running your fingers through it. “Would you like to continue? I don’t mind stopping.” You place a soft kiss on the corner of his jaw and his eyes flutter.
“More, more always.” And then he’s pulling you in, using his uninjured leg to cage you in against him. His lips are at your neck, kissing and leaving a line of marks he looks at with satisfaction. You leave one in return, high on his neck, just under his jaw, laving your tongue over it after in a way that has him pressing up into you.
His whole body shudders as you drag a hand lower, mouth still sucking pretty bruises in a bouquet on his neck. You tug gently at his pants, “May I?”
“Of course,”
You smile, kiss him again before turning your attention to the buckle. Just the barest brush of your hands over the straining fabric there has him hissing through his teeth.
You smirk just slightly, “Sensitive, Viktor?”
He all but tssks at you, “Yes, yes hurry up.”
You pull the zipper down slowly, just to tease him. He muffles a soft whine against his arm as you trace a finger over the new territory you’ve uncovered.
“You sound beautiful, let me hear you.”
He removes the arms slowly, uncovering the blush that’s returned to his cheeks, his eyes fluttering between you and your hand pressed too lightly against his length. When he looks up you reward him with a gentle squeeze, the pleasure shooting up his spine and making him gasp.
“You’ve,” he breathes heavily, “done this before.” He can’t help but to cant his hips into your hand. A hand that is still Not Moving.
“Mm, but I’ve thought about doing this to you infinitely more. Often times right here, sometimes in my bed, or yours,” you keep talking just to watch his eyes darken further. “One time in a janitor’s closet but you were being very loud,” You press an open mouthed kiss to his clothed length to pull a moan from his throat.
You move to pull his pants from his legs, wrapping a hand around his middle to guide him back up to standing with you.
You slide the fabric down slowly, reverently, placing kisses to his hips, both of his thighs, to the indentation marks left by his brace. You allow the fabric to pool at his feet before standing again.
Viktor’s eyes are distracted again with some thought, you can see his eyebrows furrow and unfurrow as he considers speaking.
“I’m sorry, that I can’t -“ you silence him with a gentle hand cupping him through his boxers, the sentence turning into an aborted sound somewhere between a moan and a whine. It has him stumbling back into you.
“None of whatever that sentence was about to be, darling.” You squeeze ever so slightly for emphasis. His eyes roll back in his head for a moment. “I’m honored. Viktor. I want you, I’ve wanted you for a long time. I want you exactly as you are.”
This, over everything else, is what seems to affect him most, his cheeks blushing red as well as the tips of his ears.
“And it doesn’t bother you.” He says it as a statement.
You run your hand gently up the ribs of his brace, tracing higher until a hand rests against his cheek.
“Nothing about this bothers me, at all Vitka. I want you, if you’ll have me.” You whisper this part, feeling a bit unsure despite your matching states of undress. This feels like more a confession than your lips on his. Past physical need, you feel like you’ve just offered a sliver of your soul out for him to heal or hurt.
Viktor surges forward in answer, kissing you like he’s starved of it. His spine is curved as far as the brace will allow as he presses into you, his bare chest exposed in an almost obscene way through his half unbuttoned shirt. Gods, you want to ruin him.
His hands are grasping, pulling you closer so your hips are flush together.
“What do you need from me darling” you ask against his lips.
“More, more, please”
You push him flat onto the work table, scattering notes and miscellaneous tools out of the way of his spine. His hair is spread in a halo around his face in a breathtaking way. He looks heartbreakingly beautiful all laid out for you, eyes glimmering with need.
Your thighs bracket his hips now.
“How would you like me?” You ask teasingly as you slowly lower yourself down to a comfortable sitting position astride him.
“You’d let me choose?”
You hum an affirmative. “I like any, but I don’t know what would pleasure you the most. Tell me.” Your request makes his toes curl.
“Any?”
You nod. “How have you thought about me?”
“Would you ride me, sitting as you are now?”
“I would love to,”
“And - another time, when I am more prepared, would you …?”
Another time, hmm?
He stutters , suddenly unsure “I thought that-“
Immediately you feel guilty for teasing him, surging up to place your lips to his in reassurance. “I’m teasing you, Vitya. I want there to be many more times too.”
“And yes, when I have the proper supplies to prepare you, I would love to watch you take all of me. You’ve done that before? Actually don’t tell me, I’ll just become jealous of a person in the past.”
“The jealous type?” his snarky tone is back but with no real bite.
“Well I’ve just gotten you all to myself, perhaps I’m feeling a bit extra possessive now.”
“Hmm it’s a good look on you”
You smile wide. “You like it? I can come by and leave you pretty marks above your collar more often if you’d like.”
His hand goes subconsciously to the bite you placed under his jaw.
“It is-“
“Completely visible, yes.” Your mouth curves into a self satisfied smile.
“You really are feeling possessive aren’t you.”
“I can’t help it if I want to keep you here and ravish you for the next eternity.” You roll your hips against his for emphasis.
“Come here,” He pulls you down to lie with him, kissing you deeply.
“Can I put my weight on the braced side?”
“Yes, I won’t break.”
You flick his forehead, “I never said you would, Viktor. Causing you additional pain isn’t very romantic though now is it.”
“Oh it’s romantic now,” He sighs, not annoyed, “Just put your weight on me and we’ll find out.” He pulls you down onto him before you have time to protest. “There, better?”
But you’re already kissing again before you could think to respond, slower, rocking your hips into each other in time.
Your need for him just keeps growing, you want to eat him alive. He looks sinful with hair mussed and his lips bitten pink, chest heaving. His moans begin to crescendo, his hands on your hips tightening to a point just before pain.
“You’re close?”
He barely has the sense left to nod, chasing a high this close like a man starved.
“Will you finish just like this, Vitya, for me?” Your hands ghost over his throat, marveling at how beautiful he looks under you. He surprises you by holding the hand in place there at his neck.
His eyes are glassy, you apply a bit more pressure, looking to see if you understand his request.
He whines and his eyes roll back into his head. You press to the sides of his throat harder, “I’ve got you, darling,” you grind down harder now against him, “Gods you look gorgeous like this Viktor. Not even fully undressed.”
He makes a wounded keening sound, back fully arching off the table as he’s hit with an orgasm. You work him through it, hand no longer putting pressure to his throat but gently held in place.
He comes down from the high slowly, hips jolting from aftershocks. He curls towards you like a flower to the sun. “That was -“ he’s still breathless, breathing deeply as you pull him into your arms, drawing soft patterns on his back as his breathing returns to normal.
•••
You lay in silence together for awhile, limbs tangled, sated and happy just in each other’s presence.
After a bit though, you prop your head up on one hand so you can look at Viktor. “Let’s do this again, but I’ll do it properly this time. Can I take you out to dinner?”
“You are, interested in that with me?” There is some amount of shock on his face.
You almost smack your head sitting up so quickly. “Viktor! Yes! Was my extreme interest in you not clear after quite literally taking you on the nearest surface?”
“Yes, well. I wasn’t sure if it was just, ah. Physical for you.”
“I’m sorry for not being clear then, Vitya. I’m interested in you. I love your mind and your body. The whole package. Including your injuries, including your insane sleep schedule, including your intense relationship with coffee-“
“Okay! Okay. I get it, I was being a bit self loathing. I am just. Ah. Interested in you too. More than physically that is. And I was hoping you felt the same.”
You press a kiss to his cheek. “And next time I’ll wine and dine you before taking you over the nearest surface.”
For a cane user, I can’t imagine the sheer relief of suddenly being weightless. The strain on your legs, hips, your spine, just completely gone. Being able to relax all of the muscles that had been compensating for weakness in other areas.
Viktor is fully focused on the success of their project here, but I wonder if the additional euphoria is living without as much pain for just a few minutes.
Series Stopped: We can’t support anything she does. Even relevance through fan works. All of my HP works are discontinued.
The Dead Stay Dead
Theseus Scamander x witch!reader
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
…
Your mother tasks you with more readings as more customers flow into the shop, but your mind is elsewhere.
She scolds you, but you can’t help it. The woman you saw, Leta, was filled with such anger. You wished you could have helped more, in fact you worry you had only made the situation worse by interacting with Leta.
Who was it that she needed dead so badly?
…
Against your better judgement, you sneak out of bed late that night, and creep down again into the back parlor room. The air is freezing and you shiver despite yourself.
“Leta.” you say her voice quietly.
And she appears, standing before you in an almost solid state. She looks happier now than she did when you first saw her, her eyes a deep brown instead of pools of black.
“Leta, I would like to help you. Can you tell me who is still tying to the living world?”
“I’m dead.” she responds sadly.
“Yes,” you agree, “do you need help in moving to the next plane?”
Her face stretches inhumanly into a frown, but you keep your expression still and compassionate, still uncertain if Leta herself poses a threat to you.
Eventually she nods.
“You have to help him. He’s lost.”
“Who, Leta? Your friends that visited?”
Her hand reaches out suddenly, grasping at yours. It feels like cold air pressing down. “He’s lost. Theseus.”
You nod, gently guiding and sitting the both of you down on a bench. “I will help him in any way I can, Leta.”
She seems placated by this, and removes her hand from where it had grabbed yours. “Thank you.”
You have no idea what she means by any of this, but decide against agitating her further by asking.
She dissipates again into nothingness.
…
You decide to help.
Wizards are easy enough to track, given the right tools. A few herbs, a binding spell made with the help of the moon, and you’re quickly following after them, a light pull in your veins leading you in the right direction.
They’re resting at an inn near the center of town, standing out even with the bustle of early morning leading people every which way.
You make a beeline for them, ready to demand they accept your help.
Series Stopped: We can’t support anything she does. Even relevance through fan works. All of my HP works are discontinued.
The Dead Stay Dead
Theseus Scamander x witch!reader
Strangers to lovers, Major character death warning
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
…
Jacob Kowalski is nothing if not willing to expand his beliefs about the world. So when he hears Theseus and Newt talking about Leta… well, he suggests the cards.
After all, his mother had the skill and hers always seemed to come out weirdly right in ways you didn’t expect it.
…
You can see the dead, and even though the wizards standing before you would classify you as a muggle, you and your ancestors are magick practitioners, through and through.
…
The cards tell you anything you ask, but that doesn’t mean it’s always what the patrons want to hear as the answers to their questions.
Usually, the people coming into the tarot shop your mother runs are there for a laugh. Sometimes they’re here already looking for a specific answer.
Will he marry me?
Does she love me?
Is my loved one waiting for me on the other side?
Typical, run of the mill questions. The type of questions you didn’t have to pick up the cards to answer, really. It’s like they’re thinking so hard that the answer appears scrawled in charcoal in front of their face.
You’ve never had a wizard come looking for answers in a tarot shop before.
There’s firsts for everything.
Jacob Kowalski is nothing if not willing to expand his beliefs about the world. So when he hears Theseus and Newt talking about Leta… well, he suggests the cards.
After all, his mother had the skill and hers always seemed to come out weirdly right in ways you didn’t expect it.
…
“Hello, gentlemen. How can I, er, assist you?” You can smell the magic on the two brothers from almost down the street. Their third companion though was much shorter, and decidedly human.
“We’re here with some questions for your cards, if you have time.” the shorter man responds for the trio.
“Interesting. I do wonder what sort of question could bring two wizards and a human to my door.” You raise an eyebrow at them.
“Someone who’s,” one of the brothers begins but cuts himself short. He won’t meet your eyes. You wait patiently though; if it’s a question about a “someone”, your guess is someone has passed away they want to know about. An area where wizard magic was sorely lacking. Hmmph.
“We’re hoping you can check on someone for us, you know from the other side?” The shortest jumps in again, smiling a bit.
“Of course, I’d be happy to, Mr’s…” you pause, hoping for a name.
“Oh! Apologies, uh, I’m Jacob Kowalski, and this is Theseus,” he points to the taller brother, “and Newt.”
“Pleasure to meet you all. Come with me to the back parlor will you?”
You lead the way to the back, down the creaky hallway with its peeling paint, and into a room covered in runes. The lights are dimmed in the room more for a haunting effect than anything else, making the runes glow.
Once seated around the table, you pull cards from a space beneath the table.
“What questions did you come here looking for answers for?” You spread the cards out smoothly in an arc in front of you.
There is a pause. A weight is in the air. All three of these men know what they wish to ask, however refuse to voice it.
How heavy a weight it must be, then.
“Ask, for the cards cannot help otherwise.”
“Can the dead be returned?”
You smile a sad and ancient smile. “The dead stay dead, Theseus Scamander. Or an incomprehensible toll will be exacted.”
“But you can see them, can’t you?”
“You do not want to see them,” you whisper. “They are past the veil now, you do not want to see them. They are not the same as they once were, don’t call the dead.”
You see her then.
A young woman, eyes a dark yawning pool, a hand placed on each Scamander brother’s shoulder.
“Hello Leta.” you say gently. “Why have you not passed on?”
The room darkens and chills, Leta screams a terrible scream that only you can hear, though it shatters all the glass in the room, startling your guests all the same.
You hear your mother yelling on the upper floor of the house, running footsteps down the main stair as she races for the back room.
“Leta please help me understand.”
You place your cards to the side, instead holding out a hand to her. She doesn’t move, rather appears in a mist at your side, right by your ear and leaning in to whisper.
Her nails are sharp talons, you can see whatever anger she has held onto in death.
“He. Must. Die.” The words are a whisper, raising the hair on your arms.
“Who, Leta?” But it must have taken too much energy to speak, because her form disappears even from your view.
You look blankly at these three men who have come into your parlor. What sort of danger were they in? What sort of danger were they?
A date goes horribly wrong, but your knight in shining armor shows up to save the day.
…
Someone makes a comment about you looking easy, and you decide enough is enough for one night. Your date obviously didn’t care about you, people at the bar were laughing at you, maybe you could just go home and sleep this whole thing off.
You feel foolish for ever agreeing to come.
What an awful day. The dress Queenie had helped you pick out, that for once made you feel beautiful, now felt itchy and awful against your skin. You must look ridiculous.
Theseus chases after you when you run out of the bar crying. You hadn’t even realized he was there, he must have come with Queenie to spy on your date.
Theseus chases after you when you run out of the bar crying. You hadn’t even realized he was there, he must have come with Queenie to spy on your date.
Theseus chases after you when you run out of the bar crying. You hadn’t even realized he was there, he must have come with Queenie to spy on your date.
He pulls you into a hug and just holds you.
“If you want me to go back in there and hex him into tomorrow I one hundred percent will. I think Queenie might beat me to it though.”
“No don’t,” you sniffle, “he’s just saying what everyone else was thinking.”
“Hey,” Theseus becomes serious. “He’s an arse, nothing he said is true. You look beautiful.”
“Don’t jest. We both know no one was going to ask me to dance anyways.”
“I will.”
You smile sadly. “Theseus I don’t want pity.”
He steps in close, pulling you to his chest. “Believe me, it’s not pity.” his lips are so close to yours, almost brushing. “Dance with me.”
You suddenly find yourself out of breath. “There’s no music.”
Theseus takes one of your hands in his own anyways, wrapping the other around your waist. The two of you sway together, in the rain.
…
moodboard credit
Taglist: @generousrunawaydonut @yournewmommy (unable to tag) @wanaexe
Theseus realizes too late his feelings for you. You’ve taken a job transfer that will have you moving to America. He catches you just before you board a ferry.
…
Theseus is sure he’s never run faster in his life than this moment. He has to make it to you in time, he has to find you.
…
It had taken a mildly frustrating conversation with Newt for Theseus to realize why he was so upset with you. It’s not like he’s not happy for you, your new job sounds amazing and exciting, exactly the kind of job you had been dreaming of.
But Theseus misses you already.
“Maybe you should tell them how you feel?” Newt suggests, only half paying attention as he attempts to wrestle away something shiny from Teddy.
“Tell them that they should stay here because… I don’t even know why? Missing them doesn’t seem like a good enough reason for them to miss out on their dream job. What difference will telling them make?”
Newt pauses his tug of war with the Niffler, “I meant tell them how you feel, the other thing.”
“What other thing?”
Newt stares at his brother knowingly. “That you love them.”
…
Now Theseus is searching frantically for you at the ferry boarding. It’s set to leave soon; what if you had already boarded and he already missed you?
“Theseus?”
Your voice comes from just behind him and he turns, immediately pulling you into a hug. “Thank gods, I thought I had missed you.”
“Aw, did you come to see me off at the ferry? That’s really sweet Theseus, thank you.” You smile brightly at him, and Theseus feels like he might melt.
“I did- um- well I came to see you off but I needed to tell you something.”
You blink. “What is it? Is everything okay?”
“Yes! Yes everything is fine! Sorry, I’m just a bit nervous.” He scratches at his head awkwardly.
“Theseus,” you bump your hip against his gently, “it’s just me, there’s no need to be nervous okay?” You’re confused but also worried that Theseus seems so stressed.
“I just needed to tell you something, before you leave.” he takes your hand.
Just then the ferryman yells for last call for boarding.
“Theseus I have to go.”
His grip on your hand doesn’t loosen. “Please, it will just take a moment, or I’m afraid I won’t be able to tell you.”
Now you’re really worried. “Tell me, Theseus.” You bring both of your hands up to the sides of his face, meeting his eyes. He rests his hands gently over yours.
“I’m in love with you.”
It feels like the world has slowed, like everything has frozen except for this space between you two.
“Theseus-“
“I know that you’re leaving, and I know that my timing couldn’t be any worse, but I need you to know. And I’m hoping that there’s some small chance you feel the same.”
You pull Theseus down into a kiss in answer. “Your timing really is terrible.” you whisper against his lips, unable to stop a smile from forming.
You kiss him again, and again. His hands are in your hair, cradling your head so gently.
“Theseus I really have to go.” you say softly. This moment feels magical and you want to stay in it forever.
“I know.” he replies.
Neither of you move away from each other.
“You’ll write to me, won’t you?” You ask, hugging Theseus tight one last time.
“Of course. Every day, if you won’t get sick of me.”
“I won’t, promise.”
…
Taglist: @generousrunawaydonut @yournewmommy (unable to tag) @wanaexe
