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queensoybean0724 · 3 years

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Succession Chapter 8 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fanfic

Chapter 8 is here!

Title: Succession Chapter 8

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader, OC

Rating: R for language and explicit gore (may be triggering with the descriptions of the bodies in the factory)

Summary: you discover a long lost relative has died and made you his sole beneficiary. While flying to collect your inheritance, you crash in a village in Romania.

Author’s Note: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village. This is a work of fiction. Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter 8

The soft tugging of your wrists woke you from sleep. You blinked rapidly and looked up to see Heisenberg removing the cuffs and setting them on the floor.

“What are you doing?” you asked, bringing your hands close to your body and rubbing your wrists.

“Sorry to wake you,” Heisenberg murmured, “but I’m going to work for a while downstairs...didn’t want you to be shackled to the bed the whole time. Do you need to use the bathroom before I go?”

You nodded your head, realizing you were in need of the facilities. Standing slowly to your feet, you padded to the door and walked across the way into the bathroom. Once you relieved yourself, you washed your hands and made your way back to the room.

“I’ll be down there for several hours,” Heisenberg said as he rinsed his hands in the sink, “I’ll probably skip lunch. Help yourself to whatever is in the refrigerator.”

You thanked him and curled back up under the covers. You couldn’t believe it, but this fucked-up picture of domesticity was starting to grow on you. Last night’s dinner outside at sunset was quite pleasant. Heisenberg didn’t talk much aside from the occasional grunt or nod if you said anything. It seemed that something was weighing on his mind. And when you asked him what he had been working on at his desk a few hours earlier, he once again told you to mind your business.

Heisenberg put on his hat, sunglasses, and trenchcoat and left without another word, closing the door behind him.

You fell asleep for another three hours before finally waking up and looking over at his clock on his nightstand. The time read 11:46am.

Rising from the bed, you cooked yourself some breakfast and filled a mug full of water. You ate leisurely and leafed through a fashion magazine that had been stuffed into one of the suitcases Heisenberg had brought from the crash site.

Once you were finished with your plates, you washed them in the sink and put them away. You had made up your mind that you were going to shower. You hadn’t washed since Heisenberg brought you here and it was creeping up on day three...or was it day four...five maybe? Either way, you needed to wash.

You gathered your shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and sponge. You also reached for your razor and shaving cream. It had been several days since you shaved your legs and you wanted to be clean and smooth...just in case…

No, you thought, not because of Heisenberg! But because I want to get back to feeling normal again!

There were a couple of towels hanging over the windowed walls of the shower, no doubt used by Heisenberg himself. You made a mental note to ask him for towels of your own when he got back…

Then it occurred to you. When he left, he closed the door, but you didn’t hear the loud click that his key usually made in the lock...

He didn’t lock the door.

As you shaved and showered, you mentally weighed the pros and cons of whether or not you should leave Heisenberg’s living quarters. He had never not locked the door. Maybe whatever work he had planned was at the forefront of his mind and he had simply forgotten to lock the door. Or maybe, just as he trusted you to go back and forth from the bathroom without him keeping watch over you, maybe he was starting to trust you not to leave the room.

The monotony of the room was starting to become boring...perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to walk around and stretch your legs.

You put on a pair of jeans, a long sleeved shirt, socks, and sneakers. Promising yourself that you wouldn’t walk too far, you opened the door quietly and peeked out into the hallway, looking right and left. Heisenberg wasn’t in the vicinity. The usual sounds of the factory rang out in the distance. You strained your hearing to listen for footsteps. Except for you, the area was empty.

Pushing the door all the way open, you stepped out into the hall. You walked down the hallway, making sure to keep your steps light and quiet. The pounding of your pulse was ringing in your ears and you were terrified of Heisenberg finding you outside of his living quarters. He would not be happy with you if he could see you at that moment.

You walked to a closed door and opened it to see the suspended walkway you had run across on your first day. The noises were louder as you looked out among the metal, chains, steam, and rotating bodies. A large body of water was several feet below you. You stood there for a minute and looked all around, afraid that Heisenberg would be nearby and see you on the walkway.

The coast was clear. You quickened your pace as you walked, making sure to tiptoe. You reached the door on the other side, pushing it open.

This was uncharted territory. You didn’t know what was around the corner and made a mental note of which way you turned, how many flights of stairs you went up and down, and factory signs. The signs were written in Romanian, but you sounded them out in your head in hopes you would remember your way back.

Occasionally you would open a door or two along the way, poking your head in and scanning the rooms. A part of you felt guilty...you were being invasive and nosy. This was Heisenberg’s home and even though he was keeping you here against your will, you thought it unlikely that he would want you poking around in his factory. You could picture him now: his brows furrowing, his gloved hands balling into fists, and his mighty voice booming as he yelled at you to get back to his quarters.

Dear god, why did that turn you on?

You had descended stairs earlier and hadn’t seen another set in quite a while, so you assumed you were down in the dregs of the factory. It started to feel warmer the further down you went. Why wasn’t Heisenberg’s room down here instead of higher up where the cold slid in through the walls so effortlessly?

You turned a corner and came up to a heavy steel door that was slightly ajar. Leaning forward, you peered down a dark hall...with bodies hanging along the right side. “Oh my god…” you whispered. You couldn’t tell whether they were alive or dead, but a gas mask sat over each of their mouths and they hung from a tight leather strap wrapped around the breastbone and up under their arms. Their skin was pale and their eyes closed.

Keeping your back flat against the left side of the hallway, you quietly and slowly made your way across. You counted in your head...one, two, three, four, five, six bodies spaced out along the hallway. Was this part of the work that Heisenberg was doing around here? You shook your head. Why was he doing this? What was he doing with all of these bodies?

Another steel door was at the end of the hall and you silently turned the knob and pushed it open.

Upon entering the large room, you gasped audibly, your eyes wide. The place looked like a morgue. Five steel tables sat in the room...with five more corpses lying on top of them. They each looked recently dead, their skin not as pale as the men hanging in the hallway behind you. Decomposition had not occured yet. The bodies had various trauma to them. One was missing an arm. One had its left leg sewed on.

The other three were fitted with a visor over their eyes. They laid shirtless on the tables. One was a woman, her bare breasts visible with a gaping hole in her chest where her heart was supposed to be. She was clothed from the waist down in a uniform that looked familiar...she was wearing a flight attendant’s uniform. Could this be one of the attendants from your plane???

The other two bodies had something different over their left chest. A circular metal contraption was lodged inside. “What the fuck…” you murmured softly, walking amongst the carnage. You were beginning to think that maybe you should have stayed inside Heisenberg’s quarters.

A door was opened on the other side of the room. You crept towards it and looked inside. The room stretched out before you and you could see a steel wall in the middle, separating one section of the room from the other. A steel table stood next to the edge of the wall and you saw that you would have to circle it to see what was on the other side. Swallowing the growing anxiety in your throat, you stepped closer.

You reached the table and the wall and leaned forward, peering into the room. Your mouth dropped, your eyes widened, and you gasped loudly.

“Bruce???”

Bruce Williams sat in what looked like a dentist’s chair, his body slumped forward. A visor, just like the ones the three bodies were fitted with in the previous room, was also sitting over his eyes. Three or four tubes were hanging from the ceiling and plugged into different areas on his body. But the worst thing was his arm...the forearm from the elbow down was missing...and what replaced it was an electric saw.

A tear rolled down your cheek. Oh, god, Bruce, you thought, what happened to you?

Before you were able to put two and two together, there was movement behind Bruce’s body. An open door was against the back wall and Heisenberg entered the room, both of his hands holding surgical tools. He stopped in his tracks when he looked up and saw you standing before Bruce.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” Heisenberg growled, “how did you get out of my room?”

Panic, disbelief, and terror surged through your body. You found yourself mourning for Bruce all over again and being gripped with fear over being caught...but even greater, fury had begun to make your blood boil.

“What is this?!?!” you cried out shrilly, “what are you doing to him??? Bruce...he was seated next to me on the plane!!! OH DEAR GOD, WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HIM???” You took several steps back, your fingers gripping your hair. This was not happening....this was not happening...you were dreaming again…

“Y/N, let me explain…” Heisenberg said, fastly approaching you, putting his tools down on the table.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!!” you screamed, turning on your heels and running out of the room. You ran into one of the bodies on the table, your body falling forward. Your chin touched its cold skin and you let out another loud scream.

“Y/N, stop!” Heisenberg commanded. You felt him behind you, his hands gripping your shoulders. You yelped and whirled around, shoving his body away from you. You ran for the exit just as one of the tables with a body flew out in front of you, blocking your path.

Adrenaline was pumping through you and you quickly ran around the table and out of the door. You ran down the hallway, ignoring the hanging bodies, your heart hammering in your chest.

“Y/N!!” Heisenberg yelled as he ran after you. You were in total flight mode and you couldn’t remember which way was up. The little notes you had jotted in your memory were long gone and you had no idea how to get out of the factory.

As you turned a corner, you saw a large industrial lift. You darted inside, gripping the sliding elevator door from above, and pulled it down shut. Looking over at the buttons, you hit the UP arrow rapidly in pure panic.

Heisenberg ran full force at the door, his fingers wrapping around the wooden railings. You screamed loudly, scrambling back against the other side of the lift, pressing your back against the wall.

“Y/N!!” Heisenberg shouted, “Y/N, STOP!!! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!!!”

The elevator lift began to ascend, putting more and more space between you and Heisenberg. You could hear him shaking the wooden railings, screaming your name over and over. Looking upwards, you watched with growing impatience as the lift slowly made its way higher and higher until it stopped at the very top.

There was a metal door before you with thin railings. You looked between them to see a small field surrounded by a barbed wire fence. The metal door was shut tight. You started to kick at the door and shove your shoulder against it, desperate for it to open. After what felt like several moments, you shoved your body once again and the door flew open. You spilled into the grass and looked around wildly. Where could you go? Where could you hide?

You looked to the left and saw a small section of fence that was rusted and pushed back, creating a space that would allow you to escape. Running as fast as your legs could take you, you pushed at the wire and slithered your body through the hole. Jagged edges snagged your skin and your clothes, but you were too fueled by panic to worry about scratches.

After clearing the fence, you jumped to your feet and ran towards the trees and the mountains, desperate to get as far away from Heisenberg as you could.

#resident evil village #resident evil village fanfic #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenberg fanfic #daddy heisenberg #succession fanfic #succession heisenberg fanfic

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shorkbrian · 3 years

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Okay so pro hero kiri has this big fat crush on his co worker! Reader who unintentionally rejecting his moves on her because she is so shy and awkward but slowly she shown some signs that she is into him so he changes tactics and acts more romantic which adds bonus points once he sees her blush when she reads the note attached to a deep red rose! fast forward to a couple of months of pinning and he is getting very frustrated especially with her enticing soft curves of her body so (1/2) 🌠 anon

oof okay listen!!!! open ur ears!!! I have something to say

(Warnings - stalking, Somnophilia, dubcon, NSFW, unsafe sex, blood from a bite wound but it’s very brief lol)

You’re a little paper pusher at his agency, you barely even interact with the big man, but he always makes time to swing by your desk and chat for a bit before he heads home.

Unfortunately, you’re about as smooth as a piece of burnt toast. His casual flirting goes right over your head, and you keep rejecting his advances and it’s so fucking frustrating. Can’t you see how hard he’s fallen for you? Kiri doesn’t understand why you look away whenever he bends down to rest his elbows on your desk, giving you the perfect view down his shirt to see his fat pecs (the man knows he’s got a banging’ body okay). He doesn’t get why you shy away from his touch when he tries to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

Kirishima can’t comprehend why you always turn him down when he mentions going out with you and some other co-workers (to make you feel more at-ease, he knows he can be intimidating) for drinks or a bite to eat.

He’s stressed - the man really wants to get to know you, but it’s like you’re completely oblivious to his intentions. He’s pretty sure you just see him as a goofy extroverted coworker that loves people. After all, he does stop and say hi to several other people every day as he makes his way over to your desk.

So Kirishima decides to up his game. Starts making his feelings obvious. He gets more touchy, perching on your desk to reach and rub your shoulders, laughing at your jokes and (gently) smacking a hand against your leg like a giggly schoolgirl. He talks about his workout routine and asks you if you think his muscles have been getting bigger. Could you check? Just with a hand around his bicep of course.

He buys a few gifts here and there; a cup of coffee for you with his number on the lid, a new pen when he noticed your favorite one broke, cute socks because he’s seen you wearing cute ones before, and he saw them and thought of you.

Each and every gift is accepted with the biggest blush he’s ever seen. You turn beet red, flush stretching down your neck and disappearing underneath your shirt. Kirishima chides himself for wanting to see how far the flush went, for wanting to rip off your shirt and bend you over right here and now.

But he didn’t like you just for your body, and he was willing to wait.

Kirishima feels emboldened by the success of his other gifts, so he decides to write out his feeling in a note, get you a bunch of flowers, and present them to you Friday night. That way, you’d have time to think things over and process your own feelings before you saw Kiri again on Monday. To him, it seemed like the perfect plan.

And god, you were so cute when he gave you the flowers, he wanted to kiss you on the nose and then taste your lips, right then and there.

But he didn’t.

He gave you a soft pat on the back before walking away. He was around the corner before he heard you gasp, which immediately made him backtrack and peek his head out so he could see you. Was it a good gasp? Or a bad gasp?

You had a little smile on your face, eyes twinkling as you read the note.

Kirishima pumped his fist, heart soaring. He finally got through to you.

Except he hadn’t.

On Monday, you didn’t say anything to him, hardly even looked at him. When he came by your desk to ask what you thought of the note, all he got was a fierce blush and mumbled sentences, before you bolted off to the bathroom.

It’s like he was back at square one.

It made Kirishima feel... inadequate. His old middle-school insecurities came creeping back into his life. Was he not good enough? Was he just too boring and dull and you didn’t know how to tell him without hurting his feelings? What was wrong with him?

But he was an adult now, he could handle rejection.

The thing is, you weren’t rejecting him.

You baked him cookies, dropping them off in his office while he was out, but they had your name on them and the most adorable little note, and Kirishima’s heart almost exploded. Plus, they tasted delicious.

He got a text from you one night, a cute picture of a spiky red dog and a “this reminded me of you... Sleep well! <3″ and he spent the rest of the night imagining your wedding.

You kept showing signs that you were interested, yet you wouldn’t even look at him in person. Kirishima concluded that you were just too shy.

That was okay. He realized that the more time he gave you, the more you opened up to him. Maybe in a few months, the two of you could go on a date or something!

In the meantime, the man liked to check up on you, make sure you were safe. He was invested in you now, subtly following you home some nights to make sure nobody looked at you wrong.

He broke into your apartment quite often, but it was entirely justifiable! He wasn’t being a creep (okay, well, maybe just a little), he was just being a good friend, a good coworker. He had to make sure everything was safe, that no one could get in (other than him), that you hadn’t left a candle burning or the stove going.

You slept like a rock, staying asleep even when Kirishima accidentally knocked a cup off your counter and broke it. To his surprise, there was no awakening, no screaming, yelling for him to get out or that he was a weirdo. Just you, snoring in your bed, a tiny bit of drool at the side of your mouth.

It was such a domestic scene, it warmed Kiri’s heart.

Sometimes the man liked to slip into bed beside you, frame creaking under his weight. It was a tight squeeze-he was a large man and your bed was made for one (1) person, but Kirishima didn’t mind. It just meant he got to press close to you, feel the warmth of your smaller body, hear your quite little huffs and snores and mumbles as you slept.

He let himself relax, sink into the mattress. The next time he crawled into your bed, he let himself wrap an arm around you. The time after that, Kirishima felt brave enough to scooch under the covers, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he found that your pajamas consisted of a giant shirt and panties.

Bare legs.

Glad that he wasn’t a teenager anymore, he didn’t have to worry about cumming in his pants. Still, he found himself leaving your apartment with a chubbed-up cock more often than not.

You were just so soft. He wanted to touch all of you, to lick all over and get your plush flesh in-between his teeth. He wanted to bite into your shoulders as he fucked you into the mattress, pumping you with load after load of cum, until your stomach was swollen and you cried because you felt sick.

But Kirishima also wanted to hold you close, take showers together and wash your hair for you, make coffee in the morning and talk about last night’s episode of “Chopped”. He wanted to give you sappy smooches before getting to work, make you laugh with goofy jokes and give you hugs, pick you up and twirl you around whenever he saw you after being apart, no matter if it were days or minutes.

The nasty, dirty thoughts warred with the soft, gentle ones. Sometimes they mixed, Kirishima daydreaming of sweet, romantic sex.

He just wanted you so bad.

One night, he’s crawled into bed with you like usual, rubbing a sock-clad foot over your bare legs, pressing chaste little kisses to the top of your head as he draws you into his arms. It was nigh impossible to wake you, so he felt no fear or apprehension in taking such bold actions.

Shuffling in your sleep, you throw a leg over his hip, snuggling deeper into the solid warmth that is his body. Kiri sighs, contented.

And then you start making noises.

Little huffs of breath, tiny whimpers, and when Kirishima looks down, your eyebrows are drawn up. You twitch against him, against the thick thigh that you had slung your leg over, and then repeat the motion.

You’re.... You’re having a wet dream.

Kirishima lets out a shaky breath, trying to focus so he doesn’t crush your arm with his excited grip. You’re rutting against him steadily now, dragging your damp cunt against his leg, sighing at the friction, lips parted.

His cock is rapidly hardening, and he wants to rub himself against your stomach, feel the cling of his shirt as he rucks it up with his rhythmic humping. But he doesn’t.

He’s a gentleman, he wouldn’t take advantage of you like that. You’re just having an unconscious reaction to a man being in your bed. Maybe further down the road, when he’s taken you on many romance-filled dates, then he can lay you down and whisper into your ear how much he loves you while the two of you make love.

The man is so taken with that fantasy that he almost misses the gentle gasp of a name falling from your lips.

But he didn’t, because it was his name.

A shiver ran through him; excitement? fear of you waking up? He didn’t know. When he checked your face, you were still asleep, letting out those little whimpers and moaning his name quietly.

God was real.

God was real, and he had made angels, and you were one of them.

And lord forgive him, because Kirishima was about to sin.

How could he hold himself back? You were humping his leg, moaning his name and panting, in your sleep. You wanted him, you were just too shy to initiate or accept Kiri’s advances.

Theres no way he’s holding himself back.

Covers are thrown off, Kirishima quickly detaching from you (oh how he missed your warmth immediately) to shuck off his clothes, almost falling on his face as he ripped off his socks.

Then he’s looming over you, quickly pulling up your shirt, lifting your head gently, guiding your arms out. Your panties came off next, slid down your legs with shaky, excited hands.

Kirishima wanted to worship you. You were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, laid there on the bed, whining in your sleep for him, thighs rubbing together. He felt himself salivating, jaw itching to open and clamp down, to eat you whole. He wanted all of you.

Climbing back on the bed, Kiri pumped his cock a few times, precum flowing from the tip helping to smooth the way. He was going to fuck you now.

No preamble, the man just spread your legs, settling between them. A quick rub of your pussy with his fingers had him finding it already drenched, and he groaned quietly, the hand around his cock moving faster.

He shifted back slightly, only far enough to lift your legs, pressing your thighs up and back towards your chest. Your breathing changed slightly, but Kirishima wasn’t paying attention to that now. He didn’t care if you woke up now, you had just been dreaming about him. He was your wet dream come true, you’d surely appreciate how good he was about to make you feel.

Lining up was a bit more difficult than Kirishima was used to - he’d never been this excited to fuck someone in his life, hands trembling, heart beating out of his chest, sweat slicking his skin. But then the tip of his fat cock slipped inside, stretching you open, and all was right in the world for Kirishima.

He wanted to slam home, to push and push until he was balls deep and his tip was kissing your cervix. But he held himself back - he hadn’t stretched you, and he didn’t like the idea of hurting you in that way, he wanted your first time with him to feel good.

So he went slow, pushing inside an inch, waiting. Pushing another inch, then waiting. Waiting waiting waiting, he almost couldn’t rein in his desires. But he did, for you.

“Kiri?” You mumbled, eyes fluttering open. Kirishima wasn’t expecting you to speak so clearly, hips jumping forward, seating himself the rest of the way inside your heavenly warmth as the man swore.

“Kiri?” Clearer now, with a hint of panic. Kirishima looked up, and you were fully awake now, looking at the man with wide eyes.

“Hey baby.” He whispered, smiling gently. Your hands rose, one resting against his bicep, the other settling on his chest, and he shivered at your touch, at the feel of your tiny little hands on his flesh.

“What’s-? When did you....?” It was so cute, the confused scrunch of your face. You were still fighting the mist of sleep, blinking owlishly up at the man on top of you. Fear hadn’t kicked in, although it was simmering underneath the surface.

“Hey, shhh. Don’t worry, I’m here. Gonna make you feel the best, you’re my pretty little girl, know that? I’ve been waiting so long for you.” He whispered, swooping down for a gentle kiss.

You didn’t fight him, just accepted the lips pressing against yours with confusion. It probably felt like you were still in a dream, hazy and relaxed.

Kirishima couldn’t wait anymore, his cock was throbbing, your insides were molten and he felt like he was going to explode. He wanted, no, needed to move.

His first thrust was small, just a quick schlick out, and the same noise when he pushed back in. You were sopping wet, and the slide made it easy for him to move. Even more proof that you wanted this.

You gasped, eyes fluttering closed as you pulled away from the kiss. Kiri huffed out a joyful, breathless laugh as he thrusted again, sparks of pleasure lighting up in his gut.

“Mm, Kiri wait-” You moaned, nails digging into his bicep and chest. Kirishima ignored you, speeding up, trying to angle his hips to find your sweet spot. One of his hands held your hip, the other brushing your hair out of your eyes as he cooed at you. “Pretty baby, my beautiful girl. You’re making me feel amazing, love you so much. Feeling good? I can feel you trying to milk my cock. You want my cum?”

Dazed, assaulted by so many sensations straight out of sleep, you couldn’t exactly grasp what was going on. But Kirishima’s question snapped you fully awake, and you squirmed against his body. “No, no, don’t do that.” You mumbled.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay. I’m gonna pump you nice and full, you’ll feel all warm and round. Look so cute like this.” He grunted, going harder and harder with his hips.

Then he angled just right, striking your sweet spot, and you cried out in pleasure, bucking your hips involuntarily. “Mm, there we go. Feels good, doesn’t it honey?”

It was a rhetorical question - you were too busy writhing on Kirishima’s cock to answer, one of his hands pressing flat over your stomach to feel the subtle bulge of his cock as he fucked into your guts.

“Oh Kiri! Wait, I’m not-! Wait!” You whimpered, steadily reaching your orgasm. You didn’t want to cum, you needed to slow down and gather your wits, figure out what was happening and why Kirishima was here and when this had started and-

Kiri pulled out, quickly manhandling you as if you weighed nothing. He was so strong, it was easy for him to flip you onto your stomach, pulling you to your hands and knees.

“Gonna fuck you full. You’re gonna take all of my cum, gonna get bred like a good girl, my good girl.” His teeth were clenched as he slid back home, hissing as your wet heat welcomed him. You whined at the pleasurable sensation, unable to stop your hips from fucking back, trying to take more of his cock.

“Ohhh, fuck yeah, look at you. Knew you wanted this, wanted me. You’re so perfect, taking my cock so well. You like having my fat cock filling you up? Messing up your insides? Making you all wet and sloppy?”

His hand found its way to your clit, the area already wet from the copious amounts of slick and precum the two of you had produced. Kiri quickly began rubbing large circles over your button, thumb big and calloused and oh so good.

Kirishima’s other hand grabbed at your chest, attaching to your tit and pawing at you. He was quickly devolving into a feral man, animalistic in the way he fucked you, thrusts harsh and fast and too much but hitting you just right-

You cried out as you came, convulsing in the man’s arms at the strength of the orgasm he ripped from your body.

He didn’t take a second, spurred on by your orgams and the tightening of your cunt, and instinctively bit down on your shoulder, almost growling as he pounded into you.

“Fuck, fuck! Kiri ouch, fuck!” You yelped, his sharp teeth breaking skin.

The man paid you no heed, rabbiting his hips until he started to cum, his hot seed flowing into your pussy. His hips kept going, twitching as they slowed down until they stopped completely, both of you absolutely spent.

Nothing but the sounds of panting filled the air, and Kirishima finally unhooked his teeth from your shoulder, wincing at the stream of blood the started to roll down your back.

“Oh, baby m’sorry.” He mumbled, a bit drunk off the pleasure still coursing through his veins. You collapsed forward, his arms no longer holding you up.

Kirishima didn’t pull out as he laid down next to you, keeping your hips firmly cemented to his own so that none of his cum would escape, pulling you close to his body in the process. “Pretty baby, I love you. Thank you.”

It was just a dream, it had to be. You were left with no choice but to console yourself with that thought, unable (and unwilling) to think of any other possibilities.

A wet tongue lapped at your back, Kirishima licking up the blood from the wound he inflicted. “I’ll be more gentle next time, I can be good with my teeth, I promise.”

You ignored him, letting your exhausted self flicker between awake and asleep, confused, disoriented, overwhelmed.

What did he mean by “next time”?

#yandere kirishima eijirou #yandere kirishima eijiro #yandere kirishima #bnha kirishima #kirishima x reader #Kirishima Eijirou #mha kirishima #kirishima #yandere bnha #dark kirishima #tw dubcon #tw noncon

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queerquintessence · 3 years

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heyo

so i recently have been obsessed with the idea of the voltron paladins living in the same house together sooo

i may or may not have spent the last like 3 hours working on headcannons

the characters in the house are keith, lance, hunk, pidge, and allura

(since they’re all relatively similar in age)

so sadly no shiro or coran but

anyway

yeah here they are

(once again a bit unorganized but it’s whatev)

• first off allura and lance are both housewifes

• and neither of them take any shit from the others

• allura: keith, could you pick your feet up? i’m trying to vacuum down here

• keith, sitting on the couch: couldn’t you just do it later

• allura:

• allura: move your feet or i’m telling lonce you have a crush on him

• hunk does the dishes most of the time because he’s mainly the one who cooks their food

• but they also alternate on a schedule

• lance, sighing dramatically: i do everything around here! keith, when was the last time you washed the dishes?

• keith: i literally washed them last night

• lance: well you missed a plate so it doesn’t count

• keith takes out the trash a lot except he doesn’t wear shoes so his feet are always dirty

• lance yells at him for it

• whenever lance takes out the trash he puts on whoever’s shoes are closest

• pidge: lance are those my shoes?

• lance, tiptoeing in sneakers that are 3 sizes too small: maybe

• the couch that they own is too small to fit everyone

• they either argue for 10 minutes over who gets to sit where or they just pile on top of each other

• pidge usually lays on top of someone’s lap when it gets crowded

• she can just flop on top of someone and they’ll just let her- no words spoken

• keith sits on the armrests and everyone gives him shit for it

• lance: aren’t you uncomfortable?

• keith: i like sitting here

• lance: alright edgelord

• lance lays with his legs sprawled on top of the couch

• sometimes pidge will lay on lance who will have his legs on keith

• hunk is fine with sitting on the floor but even he’ll start arguing over the good spot on the couch

• hunk: lance, buddy, you sat there last time- why not give someone else a turn?

• lance: hunk when was the last time you did your own laundry? huh. that’s what i thought

• dinners pretty chaotic

• that’s usually when they have their debates

• lance, pounding his fist on the table: mac and cheese is to be eaten with a fork and that’s that

• pidge: why the hell would you use a fork? spoons are just fine in my opinion

• keith, silently munching on his food knowing he eats it with a knife:

• pidge: alright, we need to acknowledge the elephant in the room

• everyone:

• pidge:

• pidge: keith, you gotta stop putting corn syrup on your peanut butter sandwiches it’s fucking weird

• allura: everyone in favor of limiting lance’s shakira privileges say I

• keith, pidge, and hunk: I

• lance, who’s totally offended: wh

• luckily, they all have their own rooms

• except the walls are super thin

• lance scream singing beyoncé: GOT ME LOOKING SO CRAZY RIGHT NOW YOUR LOVES GOT ME LOOKING SO CRAZY RIGHT NOW

• keith: why has god forsaken me

• even when they try to play music relatively quiet it can still faintly be heard

• muffled music from keith’s room: when i was, a young boy

• pidge: HA fucking EMO

• they all have Alexa’s in their rooms

• and pidge has access to all of them on her laptop

• pidge: psst- hey lance, watch this

• pidge: *fast typing on laptop*

• blasting from keith’s room: COUNTRYYY ROAAADS TAKE ME HOOOOME

• muffled keith screaming: pIDGE I SWEAR TO GOD

• in the morning during breakfast

• allura: why has lonce not come out of his room yet?

• pidge: hang on, i’ll wake him up

• lance’s alexa in the distance: I’M A GOOFY GOOBER YEAH YOU’RE A GOOFY GOOBER YEAH

• lance’s startled scream is then followed by a loud thud

• once a week they have a movie night

• keith: lance i am not watching a cheesy romcom for the 2nd week in a row

• lance: i have to listen to ‘welcome to the black parade’ eighteen times a day sit the fuck down

• keith, crossed arm for the duration of movie night: this love story is completely unrealistic

• everybody shushes him on cue

• they also have monthly sleepovers in the living room where they giggle like middle schoolers

• keith knocks over an entire bowl of popcorn

• allura discovers the concept of a pillow fight and effortlessly knocks everybody to the ground

• lance flops on the air mattress and launches pidge across the room

• while everyone is trying to sleep

• lance: guys guys i’m gonna say something

• lance:

• lance: mayonnaise

• everybody loses their shit laughing because it’s 2 in the morning and they’re sleep deprived

• the bathroom sink is a mess

• their toothbrushes are color coordinated

• since they have to fit so much shit on the sink they have specific spots where they put their stuff

• pidge: hunk, your toothbrush is in my spot

• hunk: what? no- this corner of the sink is mine

• the debate results in all of them crowded in the bathroom arguing for 10 minutes

• keith: i don’t even remember having a designated spot on the sink

• allura: we need a toothbrush holder

• sometimes they do their nightly routines together

• which is also chaotic

• lance is applying a face mask, which drips onto pidge’s arm

• pidge then jerks her arm away- hitting keith’s toothbrush

• it then catapults off the counter and sticks to the wall

• keith: i left the room for one second what the hell did you do

• i’ve seen this headcannon somewhere before and i love it so i’m elaborating

• whenever keith is tired he’s giddy and hyper and loopy

• keith after not having a good nights sleep for 3 weeks, getting a running start and flipping onto the couch: a woop

• pidge: what in fucks name are you doing

• lance is the same exact way when he’s tired so they act like complete and utter idiots

• keith: lance, hey lance guess what

• lance: what

• keith:

• lance:

• they both burst out laughing

• lance: keith, omg you know what- keith rhymes with teeth

• keith:

• keith: holy shit

• eventually they both burn out and are just exhausted

• lance with his face planted in the carpet: uuuggghghggg

• allura: you finally done?

• lance: *angry muffled grumbling*

• pidge tends to fall asleep anywhere in the house

• usually with her computer on her lap or nearby

• she’s usually discovered the next morning

• hunk walking into the kitchen, sleepily rubbing his eyes: kinda want some orange juice

• pidge is just asleep on top of the fridge

• everyone else eating breakfast at the table

• keith: has anyone seen pidge?

• soft snoring is heard from under the table

• keith: ah

• they just put up with each other’s bullshit all day everyday and i love it

• lance, slamming his bedroom door open: everyone in my room i had a nightmare and need affection

• everyone emerges from their rooms grumbling and all file into lance room with their pillows and stuffed animals

• pidge trying to keep the remote away from lance: go long, hunk!

• keith appearing in the doorway and getting hit straight in the forehead with a remote: fUCK

• lance: are those my socks?

• keith: huh? oh, i dunno they were in my laundry pile

• lance: no those are totally my socks give them back right now

• when they all moved in together it was before keith and lance started dating so obviously there was shipping

• pidge, bursting into hunk’s room: i have klance tea

• hunk: spill

• lance: wh- keith and i are NOT dating

• pidge: you guys literally live together!

• lance: WE ALL LIVE TOGETHER

• allura, to hunk during dinner: i don’t know about you, but it seems to me like keith has a thing for lance

• keith: princess you’re not even whispering we can all hear you

• keith and lance secretly holding hands under the dinner table while lance is telling a story

• lance, being dramatic and expressive, lifts his hands in the air to accidentally reveal that his hand is intertwined with keith’s and its immediate chaos

• keith letting go immediately: wH HUH HOW DID THAT GET THERE

• pidge: I FUCKING TOLD YOU

anywayyy that’s all

i literally love this so much so don’t be surprised if i come up with some more later

yeah

bye

#lmao whoops i was so tired when i posted this i forgot to tag it #in my defense #it was 1:30 am #vld #voltron #vld headcanons #queerquintessence hcs #klance #kl #voltron funny #voltron legendary defender

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tommyparkerr · 3 years

Text

Enough | Shawn Mendes x Reader

Alright y’all here’s one of my dusty old docs I happened to stumble across in my every-now-and-again clean up of Google Docs. Just as a disclaimer, I wrote this in 2018 so no one is allowed to judge me for this, okay? Okay.

Words: 3.0k

Warnings: Panic/anxiety attack (though it’s presented differently than the majority I’ve seen), some angst, Shawn being stupid, crying

-Masterlist-

E N O U G H :

How’d studio go?

You were hesitant to send the text but did it anyway. You hoped for a positive response, but with the way things had been lately it was highly unlikely. Still, you so badly wanted to give Shawn the benefit of the doubt so you decided you would wait until his response proved you differently. After two hours had passed and he still hadn’t replied, however, you got your answer, and the benefit of the doubt quickly fizzled away.

Shawn wasn’t one to just not answer you, but lately it’d been more and more reoccurring. It wasn’t that he didn’t care or that he was angry at you; it was that he cared too much and was angry at himself. You still remembered when Shawn called you after a studio day a while back, disappointed that he hadn’t managed to find any sort of inspiration. You didn’t know it then, but that was only the first of many uninspired days he’d be facing over the next several months.

The boy hid it well—the self-hatred and frustration—but you saw things that others didn’t. You were the one who saw the dark rings under his eyes before he had the chance to cover them up. You were the one who spent countless nights with him on the phone, trying and failing to reassure him that it was all right he was feeling this way and that it happened to all writers at some point. You were the one who brought him coffee with an extra shot of espresso each morning because you knew if you didn’t he would fall asleep in the middle of warm-ups.

Shawn was going to crash soon, and not in the metaphorical sense; he was going to mentally crash. In a way, he already had. But you had a feeling that these past months were going to catch up to him, the meaningless guitar strums and pointless piano chords adding up to be one too many, and he was going to crash. Hard. You just had to make sure you were there when he did.

Lucky for you your apartment wasn’t too far from his, that way when he called and asked you to come over because he needed you (and vice-versa), you could be there in five minutes or less. It hadn’t been purposeful, the close addresses, but it worked out. And you were happy it did, as there’d been numerous times the short distance was used to your advantage in emergency situations—such as the time you made cookies and wanted to surprise Shawn with them while they were still hot.

Your phone buzzed from the coffee table, startling you from your half-conscious state. You rubbed your eyes and your hand fumbled to pick up your phone.

Same.

You sighed. Somehow you knew that while you’d been relaxing in your apartment watching cheesy movies and almost dozing off, Shawn had been sitting staring at blank sheets of music in an apartment that was entirely silent apart from the experimental chords he’d strum and immediately nix.

Before you could even think, your fingers were making the appropriate movements to call Shawn. It rang a few times, the soft sound making your eyes droop again.

“Hey, it’s Shawn!”

Shawn’s voice snapped you awake and you shook your head at yourself, frustrated that you’d almost fallen asleep when he clearly needed someone to talk to.

“Hey Shawn, you oka-“

“I’m busy right now, but leave a message and I’ll be sure to call you back.”

You blinked a couple times, the switch from your boyfriend's voice to the teller machine making you stumble. You quickly hung up before a voicemail could be recorded and tried calling again, but you only got the same result.

There was no reason he shouldn’t be answering his phone when he’d texted you back only a minute ago.

An unsettling feeling washed over you and you scrambled up from the couch to find your shoes and throw on your cardigan. It was below freezing outside but you didn’t care enough to spend the extra time finding a coat and warmer clothes; besides, it was a short walk to Shawn’s place.

You called again. This time when the teller came on instructing you to leave a message after the beep, you did.

“Hey bub, you’re really starting to worry me. I’ve been calling but you haven’t picked up, and I know you have me as an emergency contact; I know my calls are going through. So, I’m coming over. Right now, actually. Hang tight, okay? I’ll be there in a few.”

You were in such a rush that you hardly even noticed the cold. You were sure you’d feel it after you sorted everything out with Shawn, but until then it had no place in your mind.

The receptionist didn’t question your presence in Shawn’s building, quite used to your late night visits, although she did look a bit concerned; you always made sure to bundle up this time of year and never went upstairs without flashing her a smile and quick hello, but now you did both, sprinting to the elevator and maneuvering the buttons to work as quick as possible.

You didn’t bother knocking when you got to Shawn’s door, instead pulling out the key he’d given you months ago and using that to unlock it. At first you heard nothing when you stepped in, making you painfully aware of your racing heart.

“Shawn?” you called out cautiously, not wanting to do anything that could possibly scare him off. You stepped further in to find the living room and kitchen clean as usual, but no Shawn. As you travelled further into the apartment your uneasiness grew stronger. “Shawn, where are-“

A mix between a shout and a groan came from the bedroom and you quickly sprinted to the area, finding that the sound had come from inside the closed—and locked—bathroom door.

“Shawn, it’s Y/N. Please open the door, baby,” you said calmly, gently.

“Get out!” he suddenly yelled after you’d made a couple more attempts.

“I’m not leaving, Shawn-“

“Get out, Y/N!”

“Shawn,” you stated firmly, not being thrown off by his irrational anger. “Open the door.”

A loud bang sounded as Shawn slammed his fist against the door, making you jump. But your resolve still wasn’t weakening.

“Leave me alone!”

“You do realize I’ll stay here all night, right?” you said truthfully. Even if he stayed angry the entire time you were here, you would much prefer it over silence. At least with anger you knew what he was doing; silence could mean anything.

“I’ll call security!” he shouted.

“With what phone?” you asked, having seen his supposed phone on the floor by his bed. Your point made him stumble for just a moment as you weren’t usually the type to fight fire with fire, but somehow you knew that tonight it might be the only way to get through to him.

“You’re trespassing!” Shawn tried.

Fire it was.

“You mean on the property you gave me a key to and never asked for back?”

Shawn paused again—only for a second. “Can’t you live your own life for once instead of following me around like some lost puppy?” he jabbed. “I don’t need your help, Y/N!”

His words that were meant to extinguish the fire only fueled it, and before you could tell yourself to stop you raised your fist and banged hard against the door like he had—so hard that your hand ached. But it had gotten his attention; you could tell due to the sudden silence on the other side of the door.

“Shawn,” you said, speaking quieter but still with unwavering tenacity. “I’m not leaving.”

The next few minutes were silent yet deafening. Just as you were about to open your mouth and say something else, a resounding shatter filled the air. You instinctively flinched and felt your heart drop when you realized what had happened.

Shawn had broken the mirror.

You snapped into action, grabbing a pair of socks and shoes from Shawn’s closet then knocking on the bathroom door again, hoping beyond hope that that was the peak of his episode and it was all downhill from here.

“Baby, please open the door.”

You breathed a quiet sigh of relief when you heard an answering click and carefully pushed the door open, taking in the sight of glass fragments scattered amongst the floor with Shawn right in the middle of it, looking unphased and too caught up in his own head to notice the mess he’d made.

“Shawn.”

He turned to look at you, his cheeks flushed and his hair a mess from constantly pulling at it. Your heart broke and you so badly wanted to reach out and wrap him in a hug, but that probably wasn’t the best move right now considering the circumstances so you held back, instead offering him the socks and shoes.

“Put these on and try to avoid stepping on the shards, okay? Go lay down. I’ll clean this up.”

While he didn’t show any reaction to your instructions, he did as you told him, carefully slipping on the footwear and treading out of the bathroom to his bed.

It took a bit of time to clean up the glass, especially when it came to scooping it out of the sink and off the countertop, but you did it, sweeping it several times to ensure there were no shards left behind. It was only when you’d finished the task, put the broom back, and dumped the glass in the trash that you went to Shawn.

He was sitting up now, his legs hanging off the side of the bed and his feet bare of the amenities you’d provided him just minutes ago. Unsure of how to go about the situation, you sat on the floor in front of him and reached for his hand. He let you have it, and you were surprised to see he only had a few shallow cuts from the breakage. You decided you’d deal with those later. For now, though, you needed to deal with the mental wounds.

You sat in silence, trying desperately to find the right words to say to get Shawn to talk to you. Lucky for you, though, you didn’t have to.

“I-I didn’t mean what I said,” Shawn said, his voice hoarse and cracking. “Any of it—all of it. I didn’t mean it.”

“I know,” you replied quietly, tracing the lines of his palm.

Shawn swallowed and shook his head, his free hand clenching into a fist. “I don’t know why I did it. I was just so-so angry and I couldn’t stop and I just…” He trailed off, his eyes laden with the self-hatred he’d been guarding from sight all these months. His eyes shut as if he knew what you‘d spotted and his head tilted away from you.

“Hey,” you said softly, interlacing his fingers with yours and working with his other hand to do the same. “Look at me.”

It took awhile but eventually Shawn complied. His eyes were red-rimmed and watery, so sad and so genuinely upset that it made your own eyes water.

You physically watched as all of the burden Shawn had been carrying around suddenly came down on him, his shoulders dropping and every muscle in his body relaxing to the point where he was falling forward. You jumped to your feet, catching his weight and pulling him into your mid-section. A broken sob left his lips, and you were quick to hold him firmly against your chest as you played with his tangled curls.

You let him cry, let his wounded hands twist into your shirt even when it rose up and exposed your abdomen, let his tears and dribbles of blood soak through the thin fabric of the only clothing you had with you. Because this was the breakdown. This was the crash.

You resisted shushing Shawn like you would a crying child, knowing that if you didn’t let him break then he wouldn’t be able to build himself back up—as much as it hurt you to watch. “I’ve got you, bub,” you whispered instead. “I’m here.”

Eventually Shawn’s tears slowed but he didn’t move, allowing you to continue your soothing touches and calming words. His hands slowly moved from your shirt to your waist, his fingers tracing patterns along the bare skin there. You felt him frown and he tilted his head up, looking at you concernedly.

“You’re freezing.”

You rolled your eyes with a small smile. It drove you crazy sometimes how utterly selfless he was, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t one of your favorite traits of his—one of the traits that drew you to him in the first place. “I’m fine, Shawn.”

“Did you wear a coat?” he insisted.

“No, I-“ You stopped at his disapproving look and exhaled. “I am fine, Shawn. It’s you I’m worried about, not me.”

Your words seemed to chase him away, as he rigidly pulled back into a sitting position and moved his eyes away from yours at the remark. You sighed and took a seat next to him, looking at your dangling feet versus his solidly planted ones before taking his hand again and guiding him to look at you.

“Talk to me, Shawn,” you simply said, your voice the gentlest you could make it.

He took a deep breath, letting it escape heavily through his nose. “I feel so pathetic.”

“Why?” you prodded, and when he shook his head you softly reminded him, “Bub, it’s just me.”

It took awhile for him to open up, but you stayed patient. You watched him as he formed the words in his head, trying to figure it out just as much as you were.

“I’m supposed to be making music,” Shawn started quietly. “I know how pathetic I look each time I walk out of the studio with nothing more than what I brought in. Everyone’s waiting on me, expecting me to do something. It’s been months—months—and I’ve got nothing. I’ve done three albums back to back with no problem, I’ve done countless shows and tours and festival runs, but I have nothing now. No music, no ideas, no inspiration—nothing. And...and it makes me nothing.”

You paused. “If having nothing makes you nothing,” you said, choosing your words carefully, “then why am I here right now?”

Shawn didn’t reply, training his eyes away from you and to the wall in front of him. You could see you’d simultaneously struck a chord with him and backed him into a corner; the only way Shawn could reply was either by telling you he didn’t know, which you both knew was false, or with self-deprecating reasoning, which you wouldn’t let slide for a second.

You swallowed, knowing your next words would be extremely controversial. “Have you ever thought that maybe this is your mind’s way of telling you it’s time to take a break?”

Shawn immediately tensed, his head snapping back to you. “I am taking a break,” he argued.

“No, you’re not,” you said, keeping your composure. “You’re working yourself twice as much as normal. You barely sleep, you hardly eat or drink anything other than what I give you, you never have the ‘time’ to hang out with me or your friends anymore, your mental health is spiralling-“ You quickly came to a stop, watching the fight you’d just recently seen in Shawn’s eyes begin to drain again at the last item on your list. “Shawn, I don’t know what taking a break means to you,” you began, “but to me it means letting go of your responsibilities—letting them disappear to the back of your mind where you won’t have to see them for awhile. It means relaxing, not worrying about deadlines or expectations or anything else remotely pressuring.”

Shawn was quiet, letting your words soak in. You and everyone else (including his fans) agreed it was time he took a break, but getting Shawn to agree himself was a whole other challenge.

“I just…” He struggled for a moment, fiddling with his fingers and looking down. “I just feel like I’m not enough.”

There it is, you thought sadly.

You gently grasped his chin and moved it until he was looking at you again. He looked so vulnerable, and you knew that whatever you said in the next moment could break him if you weren’t careful.

“Shawn Peter Raul Mendes,” you breathed, “I promise you on all the stars in the world that you are and always will be enough. And if I have to promise you that every day for the rest of my life, I will. You are enough, Shawn, and the day you aren’t is the day tomorrow never comes.”

His eyes filled with tears again. He grabbed you and pulled you into his lap, burying his head in the crook of your neck and hugging you so tightly you could barely breathe.

“You’re everything to me, Y/N,” he whispered. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you carded your fingers through his tangled hair. “Probably break another mirror.”

Shawn let out a choked laugh, his breath giving you goosebumps. He squeezed you tighter and placed a soft kiss on your shoulder. “Please don’t leave,” he whispered. “I love you so much, Y/N. I’m so in love with you, I’m sorry.”

“I love you too, Shawn,” you said, trying to hide the lump you now had in your throat. “I’m so in love with you, too. I’m not leaving, I promise.”

You held on to each other like that until the wee hours of the morning where you fell asleep in a different position but still curled up just the same. And when you woke up and were met with Shawn’s sleeping face and gentle snoring, you realized that you wanted to wake up to that every day for the rest of your life.

As if he could hear your thoughts, Shawn subconsciously hugged you closer, his lips upturned in a soft smile.

“You are enough, Shawn Peter Raul Mendes,” you whispered, prepared to mark today as the first day of the promise you’d make to him every day from now until forever. “I promise on all the stars in the world.”

---

Permanent Tags: @dahliaspidey (There were a few others here whose URLs must have changed, plus I’m redoing all of my tag lists, so if you’re interested in being added to any of my tag lists check out the link in my bio!)

Shawn/Fic Tags: @odd-lil-duck @rava13 @deamus-liv @mendesficsxbombay

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fandom #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes oneshot #one shot

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pogueit · 3 years

Text

First Aid Kit

Paring: Pope Heyward x Reader

Summary: You have an accident while attempting to do a new trick and Pope is the man for the job.

Warnings: blood ofc and general first aid stuff nothing too graphic tho!!

WC: 1,994

A/N: There's not enough Pope content!! SO I made some!! Pls enjoy some Pope and Y/N action!

THE GIF IS NOT MINE IT BELONGS TO @rue-bennett !!!!

Saturdays are not meant to be boring, but this scorching afternoon there was nothing to do. John B. went on his weekly date with Sarah, JJ scored a date with a kook he's been eyeing, and Kie was forced to go to a gala on the mainland, so it was just you and Pope alone in the chateau. He had been studying all day for an upcoming chemistry exam he has first thing Monday morning. You tried all day to get his head out of the books, but he was not having any of it. It wasn't until the late afternoon that you got him to go outside with you. Even though his nose was still deep in the piles of notes at least he was outside. You were skating on a horrifically uneven stretch of concrete that was oddly slathered in front of the chateau. Every time he could hear the wheels pop upwards he would snap his eyes to you, cheering you on when you stuck the landing. You were glad that he was far enough away to not be able to see how red your cheeks were. You've had a massive crush on the boy ever since Kie introduced you to the group. Your mom had just moved your ass down to the banks to get a fresh start far away from your poor excuse for a father. She managed to quickly score a job at The Wreck (where you were also forced to work part-time) as head chef. Your mom got on well with the Carrera's who only deemed it appropriate to force their daughter to hang out with you, being new in town and all. Kie wasn’t bothered at all and was glad to have another girl around. After hanging out with her for a single day, you wouldn’t hesitate to take a bullet for her. Kiara didn't introduce you to the knuckleheads right away, since she had taken a liking to you and didn't want to scare you away. The day that she did you remembered Pope had been the last one to say "hey" yet his was the warmest. After that day your stomach would erupt with butterflies whenever you'd even look at him and you would nearly die when your hands would brush against each other in passing. There was just something about him. Maybe it was how he didn't believe in stupid questions, except for JJ's of course, or how he would learn a new subject just to be able to help one of you ace an exam. It could be how the sun sparkled against his wet skin after a long day of swimming or surfing. How relaxed he looks sitting in the driver's seat of the HMS Pogue taking in all that the sun had to offer. You were glad the rest of the crew hadn't caught on yet, especially JB since he's already taken the role as your big brother, even though you're sure that you’re definitely older than him. He would never let you hear the end of it if he knew. The constant pestering, nudging, and side-eyeing would have driven you insane. Your mind slowly drifted back to the boy studying a few feet away from you. The thoughts of those hot summer nights in the cool water with him clouded your brain, so much so you nearly wiped out.

"You good!?" Pope's concerned voice made your head snap in his direction. You knew that the embarrassment on your face was very telling but you just shot him two thumbs up and got back on your board. You shake off any remaining thoughts from your head before attempting your new trick. You were sick and tired of random strangers, but mostly JJ and JB, yelling at you to do a kickflip whenever you were skating. After watching countless videos on kickflips you were basically an expert on them at this point and all you had to do now was actually stick the landing. You slid your right foot to the middle of the board so that your heel was just off the edge while your toes rested in the middle. You shifted your left foot to the tail of the deck and with all the strength you could muster you push down on the tail while your right foot flicked down on the edge of the board. It would have been a spectacular landing if it weren't for the random-ass pebble that your wheel landed on.

"Oh fuck, are you alright!?" Pope was by your side before you even realized you were on the ground. Falling came with the game and you were not fazed at all, since you've had grislier wipeouts than this, but that's before you saw the fountain of blood that poured out of your knee.

"Yeah, I'm fine dude-- I've had-- I need to--The bathroom--" you hobbled quickly into the bathroom at the chateau trying your darndest to not get any blood in the house. By the time you were able to sit down on the toilet, you were seeing stars. Your vision was slowly fading to black and you felt like you were going to vomit. You closed your eyes tightly as you pressed a clump of toilet paper to your knee, which pulled a hiss right from your lungs at the sensation. Promptly, you bit down on your bottom lip to keep yourself from letting out a scream. A light knock came from the door and it couldn't be anyone else but Pope.

"Are you alright in there y/n?" From all the pain you were in you could only hum out a yes as a response, but you knew that would not be a good enough answer for the boy.

"Yeah, just don't--" before you could even finish your sentence he barged in "--open the door, why don't ya". His eyes grew wide at the bloody mess you made in the bathroom, but then quickly softened at the sight of you. Your skin was flushed with developing perspiration clinging to your skin and your lips had gone pale as your lungs suddenly only knew how to hyperventilate.

"Uh, I don’t think it would be in your best interest to say that it looks like a slasher flick was filmed in here" his words made you squeeze your eyes tighter as bloody images flashed before you and it only got harder for you to breathe. Pope stepped inside the rather small bathroom and closed the door behind him. He picked up all the toilet paper you had used for your leg and tossed them into the trash bin before he crouched down next to you.

"Does it still hurt?" His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, as if you would shatter if he spoke any louder. All you could muster was a tiny nod as the pain took up most of your energy. His hands then gently pried your hands off of your injured knee and inspected it. Since the cut had almost stopped bleeding completely, Pope, was able to see that the wound was deep but not enough for it to garner any stitches and it was free of any debris. Lucky for you because JB had fallen there a couple of weeks ago and Pope had to whip out the tweezers to get all the gravel out of the bloody gash.

"Hey, it's not that bad-- I mean it is bad but it could be worse-- I'm gonna clean it now" the boy got to his feet and helped you sit on the edge of the bathtub with your feet sitting inside the tub. He then washed his hands furiously to avoid infection and gathered all the supplies he needed which consisted of antibacterial soap, antibiotic cream, gauze pads, gauze rolls, and unconditional love and support. Pope helped you undo both your shoes and removed them along with your embarrassing Winnie the Pooh socks. He sat with his legs outside the tub to have easy access to the supplies. After he checked to make sure the water wasn't too hot or too cold Pope moved your leg so your knee was underneath the faucet. The wound's contact with the water wasn't as bad as you thought, but it could’ve been you were distracted by his soothing touches as he held you close to him. Pope was careful not to get any of the soap in the cut just on the surrounding area and when he was finished he made sure to clean the rest of your blood-caked leg up as well. Once you were all cleaned up, he padded your leg dry before he attempted to put ointment on the tender flesh.

"Is it going to hurt?" You squeaked as he retrieved the ointment from the countertop.

"It might sting, but it shouldn't, '' he reassured you, as he brought the ointment-covered q-tip to your knee, but you couldn't help that your knee-jerked away from his touch.

"Ow, fuck!"

"Y/n, I haven't even touched you yet"

"I know, I know, sorry"

"I promise it won't hurt, y/n, and if it does you can punch me or something" even if it did hurt that bad you couldn’t imagine hurting Pope in any way. He once again leaned back in with the q-tip and sure enough, it wasn't painful at all. The ointment soothed the burning sensation of the area which finally allowed you to relax. He then carefully put a gauze pad on the injury, before wrapping your knee securely with gauze. You slid off the edge of the grimy porcelain tub and onto the ground while Pope stood next to the sink and neatly tucked everything back into the first aid kit.

"Uh, thanks--" your words got lost in your throat when your eyes met his warm eyes "--um, dude?" You felt stupid when it came out as a dumbfounded question and the heat quickly rose to your cheeks. If it was any time for you to die you wish it would have happened right then.

"Yeah, any time, y/n" he shot an endearing smile in your direction and you've never wanted to kiss a man so much before in your life.

You both let the awkwardness settle over you. The two of you riddled with hesitancy, but quietly yearned to confess your feelings to one another. He needed to get out of there. Pope gave you a curt nod and a tight smile, but as he headed towards the door there was vacillation in his movements. Before you lost sight of him from the doorway, he turned back around determined.

"Y/N, I gotta--" you were soon on your feet as the last bit of courage you had for your lifetime allowed you to meet him halfway. He didn't bother finishing his sentence as he decided his actions would speak for him. Pope cupped your face in his soft hands and crashed your lips together. The kiss was sweet, sweeter than anything you've ever experienced before. His plump lips gilded confidently over your timid ones. As the fire inside of you diminished your shyness you shifted yourself forward onto your tippy toes to deepen the kiss. Your movements caused you to pin Pope against the bathroom wall and you could feel him smile against your lips. His velvet tongue dragged against your bottom lip for permission to explore you further and you were more than eager to let him.

"Fucking finally!" The familiar voice of the rowdy klepto caught you guys by surprise causing both of you to jump away from each other.

"I guess I'm forty bucks richer, I knew you had it in ya, Pope!" JJ beamed as he walked towards the two of you and you playfully rolled your eyes at the blonde-haired boy.

"Fuck off!" Pope giggled and slammed the door in JJ's face before he turned to face you.

"Now, where were we?"

#pope heyward #pope fic #pope heyward fic #obx fic #pope x reader #pope heyward x reader #pope x y/n #pope obx fic #pope heyward imagine #pope obx #pope heyward outer banks #pope heyward x you #my fic #pogueit

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sickficsies-and-whumpsies · 3 years

Note

hi! can I ask sick yuji + megumi w/ caretaker!nobara? i was thinking like a stomach bug/high fever? their friendship dynamic makes me really soft <3

Hi!! Finally, a request for the power trio, I have been waiting for this hahah!!

TW: vomiting, fever.

1.7k words, Gen.

ーーー

“No. No. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Believe me, I feel exactly the sa一” a powerful sneeze cuts Megumi off, followed by a pained groan.

Nobara rolls her eyes, arms crossed as she watches her friend pull the blanket tighter around his own shoulders, shivering like a newborn kitty, eyes glassy and watery. She sighs.

“So you’re sick, and the other dumbass is sick too.”

A nod.

“And I’m the only one available to take care of you two.”

Another nod, reluctant. Nobara exhales, mildly annoyed. “Are you positive Yuuji’s sick? So sick that he needs any help at all?”

Megumi’s whole form shakes, and Nobara thinks he’d look adorable if not for the scowl on his face, thin eyebrows scrunched together. “I heard him vomit a little before you came here. He did it a few hours ago, too.”

“Don’t make it sound like I did it on purpose, and not because you sent your dog to get me.” she huffs, “Listen, I can’t and won’t go back and forth between your rooms, so you’re either coming to Yuuji’s, or I’m dragging him here.”

The boy pauses, pensive. “Get him here, please. My room’s cleaner, and his probably smells like puke by now.”

“So be it, then.”

She makes a move to leave, but on the threshold, she glances back.

Megumi looks dead on his feet, it’s quite a worrying sight, in all honesty. His porcelain complexion has taken a deathly tinge, cheeks flushed of an unnatural red, contrast strong against the white skin. His hair is unusually down, bangs plastered to his sweaty forehead, locks soiled and damp.

And everything about the shikigami sorcerer’s posture screams agony, the way he’s sitting on the edge of his messy bed, blanket draped over him, whole body hunched over, weak.

“Will you be okay for a few minutes?” Nobara asks, suddenly aware that letting her friends die would be definitely frowned upon and sad.

“I,” he swallows, throat dry, “I think s-so.” He sounds unsure, but Nobara takes his word and leaves, hurrying to the adjacent room.

She doesn’t bother knocking. The acrid smell of vomit hits her, making her waver on the threshold for a moment before she makes a jog towards the other end of the room and opens a window, letting the fresh morning breeze rush in and purify the environment.

“Yuuji?” she calls then, moving towards the bathroom, “It’s Nobara. Are you okay?”

She peeks inside, door slightly ajar. With a yell caught in her throat, she immediately slams the door open, flinging herself at her friend, who’s lying next to the toilet, face pressed against the freezing tiles. He’s deathly still, and the nail sorcerer’s heart stops for a second.

But then, Yuuji moans. She immediately drops to her knees, hands hovering uncertainly.

“Yuuji? Hey?”

The boy doesn’t stir. Nobara gingerly extends a hand, patting her friend’s cheek delicately to rouse him, “Come on, you need to move to Megumi’s room so that I can take care of your sorry asses. Yuuji? Wakey-wakey, time to get up.” The lightness of her words isn’t enough to mask the edge of concern behind them.

But, they do the trick. Yuuji slowly blinks, sheepish, a hand moving from where it’s laying, on his side, to his face, rubbing at it. “...Nobara?”

“You sound like shit.” she hisses, “How much have you thrown up?”

He hesitates. “Six t’mes. Maybe mo’...” Yuuji croaks out, voice broken.

“Do you think you can get up with my help?”

“But... s’nice here…”

“It isn’t. The smell is terrible and the floor is filthy.” she bits, “Megumi’s sick, too. He hasn’t thrown up, I think, but he’s running a high fever. Speaking of which…” she gently presses a hand against Yuuji’s forehead, then his neck, and his forehead again, “You don’t feel too warm, luckily. But I need to keep an eye on you both and it’d be easier for me if you two were in the same room.”

“Megumi’s sick? S’he ‘kay?”

She smiles, sympathetic, “Better off than you, for sure. Come on, now, let’s get you up. We’ll take it slow.”

With calculated movements, and so very carefully, Yuuji sits up, eyes squeezed shut as nausea washes over him like a tidal wave. Nobara keeps a strong hand on his back, and uses her other one to grab at Yuuji’s wrist and gently drag him upright, steadying him when he tilts slightly.

“I stink…” the boy murmurs under his breath, cheeks heating up.

“I’m sure Megumi won’t mind if you use his shower. Let’s get going, he’s probably worried. I am too. Wouldn’t want him to die under my watch, you know?” she jokes, and Yuuji smiles, albeit briefly.

On the way out of the bathroom, Nobara extends a hand and grabs her friend’s toothbrush, handing it to him, “For later.”

The road back takes an embarrassingly long time, considering that the two manage to walk the ten meters of distance between one door and the other in almost five minutes, having to stop every step because of false alarms and dizzy spells.

“We’re back.” Nobara announces as soon as they step in. Megumi’s once sitting form is now laying on his side, legs bent awkwardly and dangling off the side of the bed.

He really just fell there, huh?

Nobara quickly guides Yuuji to sit on the opposite edge of the bed, and makes a dash to the bathroom to retrieve a plastic basin and a plastic glass of tap water. “Drink slowly.” she says, handing the items to her sick friend.

He nods, grateful, and lets Nobara help him to sit with his back against the wooden headboard, a spare pillow supporting his lower back. “I’ll go fetch something for the nausea after I take care of Megumi, alright?”

“Dun need to speak to me like tha’...” he snorts, weak, “M’not a baby.”

“You are. He is, too. Now relax.” she says, and despite her words, the tone is soft, caring.

Nobara walks to the other side of the bed, and wraps her arms around the cocoon of blankets that her friend has enveloped himself into, propping the teen up and with his head on the pillow. She then lifts his ankles, and sets his lanky legs on the bed.

Then, one after the other, the blankets are gone, leaving Megumi’s shivering body exposed, him shaking like a leaf despite the fuzzy socks and jumper. The thermometer is already on the bedside table, and Nobara is quick to reach for it and slide it under her friend’s sweaty armpit.

It beeps after less than a minute. “39,9°C? Megumi, shit, what the一 you didn’t tell me it was this bad.” she cringes.

Once she’s sure that the boy won’t roll off the bed with his shivers and little jerking motions, Nobara heads for the bathroom, rummaging through the cabinets hastily.

“God bless, this is one stocked med-kit.” she hums to herself, “Hot patches, for Yuuji’s stomach. Then, hm, what’s in here一 oh, anti-nausea, good, and paracetamol suppositories...” she stops, eyes wide. “The ones that…? Okay, you know what, he can handle that on his own, none of my business.”

Her muttering is interrupted by the sound of Yuuji giving a strong productive heave, and another one, dry, judging by the lack of other disturbing sounds. Nobara immediately goes back to the bedroom, at Yuuji’s side in an instant.

“Shh, it’s okay, try to breathe deeply.” She rubs soothing circles on his back as Yuuji dry-heaves and sputters, eyes bloodshot. She briefly glances into the basin, heart clenching as she sees the water he’s just drunk. “You’re fine, you’re going to be fine. I got you some anti-nausea meds, you can take them dry so you don’t have to worry about drinking anymore, okay?”

He gives a shaky nod, breath hitched. “S’rry, m’sorry.”

“None of that. Breathe through your nose, Yuuji, you’re fine.” The gentle hand on his back never stops moving, and it takes longer than he’d like to admit for the bout and panic to die down. He sinks back, head hitting against the headboard quite violently.

Nobara is quick to hand him a pill, with a pained smile. “Here.”

And Sukuna’s vessel takes it without further ado, swallowing it down with ease, eyes shut as he focuses on his breaths. That’s Nobara’s cue to extract a hot patch from the container. “I’m going to lift your hoodie and put this on your stomach, okay? It will help, I promise.”

He nods, and she’s rapid to apply the patch. “Give it a few minutes.” she says, and instinctively brings a hand up to smooth back his hair, damp. “Rest.”

Megumi hasn’t stopped tossing and turning, hugging himself for warmth, knees drawn close to his chest. Nobara sighs. She returns to the bathroom, taking the basin with her and quickly rinsing it in the shower. Then, she grabs a clean towel, and runs it under the stream of cold water. Heedless of the drops that fall onto the floor, she moves back to the bedroom, and gingerly sets the cold towel upon Megumi’s forehead, shushing him gently when he whimpers like a kicked puppy.

“It’s okay, this will help you. Leave it on.” she says.

Then, she sets the basin next to Yuuji’s side of the bed. A quick look at the guy is enough to tell that he’s spent, conked out, and Nobara is gentle and swift when she moves him into a lying position, on his side, head facing the outside of the bed. He barely reacts, too out of it to wake up entirely.

Finally, Nobara retrieves the paracetamol, “Hey.” she calls, delicately nudging Megumi, “I need you to take one of these. I can help but frankly, I’d rather die.” she chuckles.

Megumi, too, is too exhausted to do much beyond a tiny smile. “Later, m’tired.”

“...Fine. But if your fever’s not down by half a degree in an hour, you’re taking it or I’m getting someone else to do it. Your choice.”

He scoffs, shivering, “A’ight.”

She sighs. She could go back to her room and come back later, but frankly, she’d feel bad if something happened to her friends during her absence.

“Move” Nobara says, and scoots in between her friends.

“Wasn’t aware m’room had b’come a hostel.”

“Shut it, you should be sleeping.” she says, side-eyeing Megumi with an amused smile, no real malice in her tone. Once she feels her friends relax and drift off, Nobara finally allows herself to rest.

ーーー

Let me know what you think of this, and if you have an ao3 hit me up so that I can gift this to you once I post it there!!

September 5, 2021.

#i said ''by sunday night'' and it's 11:57pm of sunday night. i'm proud of mysel8 #sickfic #my fic #jjk sickfic #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen sickfic #kugisaki nobara #itadori yuuji #fushiguro megumi #sickie itadori yuuji #sickie fushiguro megumi #caretaker kugisaki nobara #*myself ugh

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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 4 years

Text

With Cherries On Top

Chapter 6: The Dog & The Heart-to-Heart

Summary/Author’s Note: Max has another run in with Kevin that winds up putting the both of you in a very...awkward situation. The two of you have your first talk that doesn’t involve just ripping each other to shreds with insults. Is Max opening up? Are you? Are either of you prepared for what is going to happen when those walls start coming down? (This chapter is BIG guys. No smut yet but we are getting closer. Also I know the gif is not of Max Phillips but it is pretty spot on for what I picture Max to look like out of a suit.) Gif credit to @pajamasecrets

Pairing: Max Phillips x Reader (The Proposal AU) Word Count: 4.1k Warnings/Rating: R/18+ - so naked. so wet. Nudity, hilarity, banter, flirting, sexual innuendos, mutual sexual harassment (although is it really harassment at this point with you two?), feelings, confessions, soft!Max

[Chapter 5] [MASTERLIST]

You hated running. You hated it with every fiber of your being but you wanted to be breathless, you wanted your lungs and your limbs to ache, you wanted to punish yourself. So this morning when you rolled over and saw that it was still dark out, you had pulled on wool socks, insulated leggings, and an old hoodie. Tip-toeing around Max’s sleeping form with your sneakers in hand, you laced up on the porch and watched the fog roll off the water.

You could do this--one foot in front of the other, rinse and repeat. You put your iPod in the small pocket of your leggings as you took off, but not even the fast paced music could drown out the thoughts that refused to stop coming. Fuck it. The path that you took along the gulf and through the woods felt familiar and you were glad for it because it meant you thought less about where you were going and more about your situation.

Max was winning over your family one day at a time and the way your mother's face lit up when he put his arm around you made you feel sick. She just wanted you to be happy. And if you said you were in love with Max Phillips, then she believed you and supported you. And it was all a lie.

"Fuck," you cursed quietly as you started to pant and you shook your head, changing directions down a smaller path.

Despite everything horrible that no doubt lay on the horizon of this half assed plan, it hadn't been as terrible as you had imagined. When he wasn't making your life a living hell or having you keep track of his daily planner, Max... wasn't that bad. He was charming, but you already knew that, that wasn't the interesting part. What made you pause was every time he laughed, he made a joke, or he did that god damn grin that caused the corner of his eyes to crinkle gently. It was confirming what you thought you always knew--the business tycoon and prince douchebag that he donned every day like a suit, was all an act.

Then there was your dad. You knew you shouldn't be surprised, but he held narrow-minded thoughts about Max and his vampiric nature, and he was still holding out the hope that you would throw in the towel and move back home. Your dreams meant nothing because they weren't achievable to him. Being born in a town like Sitka meant you grew old with your highschool sweetheart, a white picket fence, and at least two children balanced on your hip--no thank you. That would never be you, you longed for the unconventional, and the way your dad saw it, choosing Max as your fiance went far beyond unconventional. It was down right crazy.

At some point you had turned back towards the house, on the path that led out of the woods and around the barn at the edge of the property. Your mom had been decorating a setting up for a get together for the last two days and you were not looking forward to the potluck and barn dance that she had no doubt invited the entire town to. Of course you had no one to blame but yourself--if you came home more than every couple of years, maybe she wouldn't make such a big deal about it.

Sweat dripped down your temple from your hairline and was chilled almost immediately by the cold autumn air. Your legs were sore and your stomach growled as it reminded you that a hot cup of coffee and a warm muffin was far superior than this self deprecating jaunt.

You put your hands on your head to open up your aching lungs and breathe deeply as you walked back to the house. This was going to be the easiest part of your day and you wanted to soak up every last bit of it. Hopefully everyone would still be asleep so you could take a shower and drink your coffee in peace.

Max had been awake when you quietly left this morning and it had been incredibly tempting to reach his hand out and grab your ankle. You would have probably tripped and it would have been hilarious, but he refrained. Christ, he was off his game lately. As the door clicked closed and he listened to the fading sound of you going down the stairs, he opened his eyes and rubbed his hand down his face.

"Fuck," he cursed as he folded his hands on his chest and looked up at the ceiling.

Another night of restlessness and listening to you sleep quietly ten feet beside him. He had made sure to eat before going to bed last night and yet you still smelled delectable. It was driving him crazy, he felt insatiable, like a man half crazed, and it worried him. He had been a vampire for a little over a decade, he had control of himself, but you made him want to bury his face between your--

"No, nope, no," Max shook his head and sat up, stretching his arms above his head and letting out an exasperated groan.

In five years he could count the number of times you had seen his fangs on one hand, and he knew for a fact you had never seen his true face. The one that morphed when he was pissed, when he lost his last shred of humanity, when his features pulled together and his snarl was permanent. His eyes would go yellow and his skin would darken, and he once had it described to him as going full-blown Buffy--and that wasn't far from the truth.

He could continue to sit here and argue with himself about how much he didn't want you, or he could get in the shower and wash away whatever these feelings were. He didn't have a better idea yet, but maybe one would come to him. Great ideas were always hatched in the shower, right? Right.

Max turned off the water and was no closer to finding a solution to his current problem. Now he was just wet. Wet and frustrated. He threw back the curtain and shook out his hair, shoving it back from his face as he looked around and clicked his tongue against his teeth.

"Towel? Towel. Where's a fucking towel?"

He looked at the rack, the counter, and the wicker laundry basket and there was nothing that he could even use as a towel. Fuck. He stepped out onto the rug and wiped his feet as much as he could so he wouldn't fall on his ass on the tile. He thought he heard the sound of the door and froze, but nothing followed. Then he remembered, the armoire, the one with the goddamn baby maker blanket, there were towels in there.

He cracked the door and leaned his head out, looking around the bedroom. He called your name, but no one answered. Letting out a deep breath, he put his large hand over his groin, just in case, and hurried out to the cabinet. A high pitched bark made him jump as he turned around and cursed loudly, making eye contact with your horrific fuzzy demon of a dog.

"Shit!" Max glared and pointed at the Shiba with the hand that wasn't currently cupping his dick and balls. "Listen, I just need a towel--you little fluffy bastard--fuck!"

It continued to bark at him, hopping slightly with each noise and the action put it closer to him. Max involuntarily took a step back each time and he swallowed the lump in his throat as the beast started to growl.

Before he was turned, he loved dogs. His family had owned one when he was a child, but that had changed when he got back from Romania. It was as if the creatures could sense something was wrong with him, something not human was staring them in the face, and they hated it.

"Look," Max continued to try and reason with the orange canine. "I've never once thought about eating you. That should count for something, right?"

By now the animal had backed him back into the bathroom and he let out a frustrated growl of his own through his nostrils as he looked around for a weapon of some kind. His eyes fell to your cordless hair dryer on the edge of the sink and he couldn't help the smirk that overcame his face.

"Bingo." He scooped it up and grinned as he aimed it at the dog and flipped it on. The handheld device whirrrrr'd to life and the dog leaned back away from it as the warm air rippled its fur away from its face like it was in a wind tunnel. "Yeah--that's what I thought. Who's your daddy, now?"

Max dropped his hand from his crotch to hold the dryer with both as he aimed it like a six-shooter and took a few careful steps out of the bathroom towards the dog.

"That's it. There ya go," he chuckled as he aimed the dryer and made the dog switch places with him. "That's a good boy, that's a good, dumb dog," his voice dropped and cooed at him like a baby as the dog pranced backwards towards the bathroom to avoid the stream of air.

As soon as the dog crossed the threshold of the bathroom, Max lunged forward and grabbed the door handle and slammed it shut. He let out a yell of triumph as he effectively locked the beast in the bathroom and ensured his own safety. He spun around to toss the hair dryer on the bed and instead collided with your naked body as you walked in from the deck, your headphones still in your ears from your run.

In the time it took Max to realize he didn't have a towel, you had come home and back into the bedroom. Max was nowhere to be found and it was still dark so you had grabbed a towel, stepped onto the covered balcony, and stripped off, leaving your sweaty jogging clothes in a pile. Your loud music thumping in your ears had left you oblivious to the cowboy western showdown that was happening in your bedroom. And now you were pressed against your boss, both of you as naked as the day you came into this world and not only did he hit you with force, but he was very wet and very slippery.

"Oh my god, oh my fucking god," you said, as your headphones fell from your ears and you started to fall. You would have welcomed the bruised ass because it meant you would have stopped touching him. What you didn't expect was for him to put his arm around your waist to keep you from falling. All it wound up doing was making him fall to the ground with you in a tangle of limbs and an ungraceful thud.

"Max??" "Fuck!"

The two of you looked at each other with wide eyes and open mouths. You were suddenly hyper aware of your breasts pressed flush against his chest as your hands found his shoulders for balance. He caught himself as much as he could with his hands on either side of your head but you still felt... something pressing against the inside of your thigh--and it was much larger than you had imagined it would be. Not that you had ever thought of such things...about Max fucking Phillips.

"Why are you naked?!" He yelled as he finally found his voice.

"Why are you wet?!" You yelled back as you slapped at his damp chest and tried to push him off of you. "Get off me!"

"Gladly!" He snarled as he rolled off of you. You scrambled for the towel that you had in your hands before he caused you to drop it and covered your breasts and the apex of your thighs. "Ugh, goddammit!" Max picked up the baby maker blanket to cover himself and once he realized what it was, he tossed it aside and grabbed one of the pillows off the bed.

"Get your dick off of my pillow! I use that to sleep!" You gestured to it as he gripped it tightly and pressed it firmly to the front of his waist.

"Okay, well it's either this or I drop it!" He snapped back and you groaned.

"Why are you wet and naked in my bedroom?" You asked.

"Our bedroom--forget it," he growled and threw an arm out to gesture towards the bedroom. "I showered and there were no towels--and then the dog--"

"Kevin?" You looked at him like he was crazy and looked around but the dog was nowhere to be found. You looked at the shut bathroom door and quickly opened it as the dog gave a yip and sprinted out of the bathroom and out the slightly cracked bedroom door. "What is it with you and this dog??"

"He hates me--"

"Oh, yeah, my mistake. You're right," you put a hand to your chest and gave a mock gasp. "Barely got away with my life just now."

"Oh, shut up!" Max rolled his eyes at you. "Go shower, you stink!"

"Fuck you, Max!" You gave a frustrated groan and made sure the towel covered your ass as you started towards the bathroom.

"Nice tattoo!"

He got one last jab in and you realized he could see the ink that he had only guessed about previously on your ribs. You stuck up your middle finger at him before you slammed the door so hard you hoped it didn't wake anyone up.

You and Max avoided one another for the rest of the day. Which was easy to do as your family was content to keep you both busy helping to prepare food and decorations for the party. Your mother insisted it had nothing to do with your engagement and that she had had it planned even before you and Max had given them the good news. Good news…if that's what she was calling it.

So that's how the day went, with you and Max on opposite ends of the table, in separate corners of the room, refusing to make eye contact with one another. Without even looking at him all you could think about was how soft those broad shoulders actually were. You were surprised how muscled his thighs were and how they lead to what was even the most surprising, which was his---nope. No. Definitely not. You refused to think about Max in that way and the fact that the thought made you blush like a schoolgirl, pissed you off even more.

You decided to go to bed early and when he followed you upstairs you almost stopped and asked him what the hell he was doing. But your mom was watching you both with so much adoration that it made you take Max's hand as you told your parents goodnight and retreated to the comfort of your own space.

After an awkward dance of taking turns using the bathroom to get changed and trying not to look one another in the eye, you laid your head down on the pillows with a loud huff. The soft crackle of the fireplace brought a warmth and a glow to the room that made your shoulders relax slowly. You should have thanked Max for making it but you didn't, it was just better to say goodnight and go the fuck to sleep and forget this day ever happened.

"Goodnight, Max." You said bluntly, pulling the covers up over your shoulder and closing your eyes. When he didn't respond, you opened them back up but stayed still.

Max had heard you but as he folded his hands on his chest and stared at the ceiling, he said quietly, "So...naked."

You sat up and looked in the direction of his spot on the floor. "What was that?"

"I said, you were so naked. I saw... everything." He grinned even though you couldn't see and you groaned and laid back down.

"No you didn't--"

"Oh, yes I did."

"We're not talking about this--"

"You're thinking about it, aren't you? You saw my dick."

"I didn't."

"Yes you did," he insisted. "I saw your tits--well, felt them--"

"Max enough! Good. Night."

The two of you were silent again for another few minutes. The fire popped and the crickets chirped and you knew he was just waiting for the right moment to open his mouth again. And sure enough, without fail, he said the next best thing to piss you off.

"So, what's the beef between you and your dad?"

"I honestly would rather talk about how you saw me naked."

Max chuckled. "As tempting as that is, I want to know. You two seem to really hate each other."

"I'm sorry but that question isn't in the binder. Please play again." Your voice was that of a sarcastic game show host but he was relentless.

"You really think INS won't ask about family drama? Because I think--"

"Max. Not this. I--please."

Maybe it was the 'please' that finally made him drop the topic, but you were thankful regardless as you thought about the conversation you had with your dad yesterday and your throat became tight. Your eyes started to burn and you rubbed them furiously. This was not a topic that you wanted to discuss with the man on the floor, not now, not ever. A silence fell between you again and when Max cleared his throat you prepared for him to continue to press the issue, but he didn't.

"I like the psychic network." He said flatly and you opened your eyes.

"What?"

"We need to start learning the binder right?"

"I guess…"

"Well, I like the Psychic network. And no, not in a ha-ha, look at those idiots believing in that trash, kind of way. I actually kind of enjoy it. I mean vampires are real, maybe other shit is too, ya know?" He shrugs and lets out a heavy sigh. "Um. Let's see. I took piano lessons in the sixth grade. Lynda Carter was my first crush when I was nine. I don't like giving flowers to women or having them in the house because they remind me of funerals. I try to read Wuthering Heights every year at Christmas--it reminds me of my mom. My dad thought it was trash but that wasn't the point." He paused and let out a sad chuckle and you bit your lip gently as you listened to him. He let out a heavy sigh and waited and when you didn't say anything, he prompted. "Your turn, sweetheart."

"I...sorry. I'm just processing," you said honestly and he chuckled again.

"Take your time."

"I also took piano lessons when I was little, but I was so terrible I quit. My fingers aren't long enough," you said quietly as you flexed them in front of you as if to show him. "My first record my dad gave me was Lionel Richie. Uhh..I haven't slept with a man in eighteen months."

"Wait--"

"Shut up, you said it was my turn." You cut him off before he could draw attention to that particular factoid. "The tattoo on my ribs--they're birds, just your typical basic girly silhouette type but I got them when I was sixteen. They're mid-flight to remind me that I don't want to stay here for the rest of my life. That no matter what anyone says, it's okay to leave and live my own life." You swallow hard and blink quickly, feeling like an idiot for continuing to get emotional in front of the one person you were pretty sure didn't have emotions. "And despite the front I put out there, I went in the bathroom and cried the day that Evan called me a poisonous bitch and reminded me that I was never getting promoted. Because then my dad would be right--I took a risk, made a big deal of blazing my own trail, and I have nothing to show for it."

Max lay patiently with his hands on the edge of the blanket, playing idly with the fringe as you told your facts to him. His eyebrows furrowed together and his heart felt like a rock within his chest. As if he didn't already hate Evan before, your confession made him want to beat the little prick down 5th avenue. He quietly committed everything you just told him to memory, like you had done moments before when he was the one making his confessions.

"Um...are you still there?" You asked quietly.

He realized he had paused for too long and the meek tone in your voice made a lump form in his throat. "Y-yeah. I'm here."

"Say something, please." Your voice sounded small even to you but you know he heard you.

"You really haven't slept with anyone in eighteen months?"

The laugh that bubbled from your chest broke whatever tension had been in the air before. It felt real, and that's because it was. The question was so on par for Max that it felt good to know that despite what had happened in the last few days, it was still him. He was still the same man.

"That's all you took from that? Of course it is."

"I'm just saying, that's a long time." He said, holding out his hands in self defense.

"Yeah? Well, I've been a little busy. My boss is just a tad demanding."

"He sounds like a prick," Max scoffed.

"He's not all that bad," you shrugged without hesitation and the statement made both of you pause as the awkwardness returned once again.

"Who--um," Max coughed, changing the subject. "Who's Lionel Richie?"

"Seriously?" You sat up and looked at him with wide eyes. "You know 'hello'? 'Dancing on the ceiling'? 'All night long'??"

He shook his head and looked up at you as you crawled to the end of the bed to look at him. "Sorry," he shrugged. "Not ringing any bells."

You looked up and silently cursed yourself for what you were about to do but you decided to throw caution to the wind. You fought back the blush as you very quietly started to sing the chorus and bob your head. "All night long. All niiiiight. All. Night. Long. All niiiiight."

Max leaned up on his elbow and looked at you with a slack jaw and wide eyes. His expression made you lose the fight with your blush as you felt your cheeks burn red and you wanted to crawl under the bed.

"Is that you singing?" Max teased.

"Maybe! I just can't believe you don't know who Lionel Richie is--"

"I know who Lionel Richie is, sweetheart. I just wanted to hear you sing it." He grinned and you gaped, but it felt good and before you knew it you were laughing again. The laughing only intensified as Max started singing, too, making sure you didn't feel too singled out. "Everybody sing, everybody dance. Lose yourself in wild romance.."

"We're gonna party--" you joined him and the two of you both bobbed like there was a beat somewhere to be heard.

"Karamu.."

"Fiesta.."

"Forever.." He paused and tried to make his voice go higher. "All. Night. Long!" His voice cracked and he shook his head, "I haven't been able to sing that high since my balls dropped."

You fell into a fit of giggles and flopped back against the pillows on the bed. It felt good to laugh for real for the first time in this hellacious trip, and you would have never guessed it would have been because of Max. When you gave a snort, your hand flew to your face to cover your mouth and Max laughed even harder. He had a good laugh, it was warm and deep, and not at all superficial or fake like it was when he was trying to make a sale.

Eventually the laughter died down, and you both stared up at the ceiling in silence. Except this time, the silence didn't feel overwhelming or awkward, it was soothing.

"Sweetheart?" Max asked quietly and you felt your breath catch at his tone.

"Yeah, Max?"

"Don't," he let out a heavy breath before continuing. "Don't take this the wrong way...but you are a beautiful woman."

You put your knuckle to your lips and failed to suppress the smile that came with his words. He had said something he had never said before. He wasn't talking about your tits, or your ass, or the way your pencil skirt complimented your curves, no, this was different.

"Goodnight, Max." You said quietly as you rolled on your side and tried not to think about how hard your heart was beating.

"Goodnight."

Its already like an hour late so I am posting it without the tags and reblogging it with tags so enjoy!

#max phillips x you #max phillips x reader #max phillips #bloodsucking bastards #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro character fic #the proposal #with cherries on top

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leafs-lover · 3 years

Text

Because Two People Got Drunk: 31

Series Masterlist

Chapter 31

Warnings: A few curse words, smut

Word Count: 8200

Fred opens the door and helps you into the living room, the hospital having released you. You still have some pain killers, and will be sore for a few days possibly longer.

Unfortunately the twins aren’t ready, so you had to leave them, which took an hour longer than it should have. Fred had to practically pull you from the NICU with tears barrelling down your cheeks. It wasn’t that difficult given that there was a wheelchair waiting for you in the corner and he can easily carry you. If it wasn’t for Oliver you would have put up more of a fight, but he needs his parents. As much fun as he has been having with your grandparents you know they have been struggling to keep up with him the past few days.

Walking through the house you see some shoes haphazardly thrown by the door, dishes rinsed in the sink waiting to be washed, there are some papers scattered on the table all the outcome of the limited time Fred has spent at home the past week. In the bedroom you see a pile of clothes that has been building in the corner and a few towels in a pile on the bathroom floor.

“Sorry, I haven’t spent much time here” Fred explains leading you to rest against the vanity.

“Babe it’s to be expected” you groan while he picks them up taking them to the hamper.

“I just wish I cleaned up more” he yells from the closet. “Just with spending time with you, the twins, shuttling Oliver back and forth this all kind of got put on the back burner” his voice getting quieter as he gets closer to the bathroom.

You know it’s true, Fred never being the messy type. He struggled with the mess that came along with Oliver; the diapers and never ending laundry mixed with limited sleep lead to clutter he never anticipated. That and he didn’t realize how much stuff babies need so storage was always an issue at your old place. It stressed him out never being able to get ahead of it, but eventually he learned to deal with it; accepting some things were out of control and some days kids are messy.

You smile seeing him walk back into the room, Fred’s face lighting up at the same time. He walks over to you placing a soft kiss on your cheek then he makes his way to the shower turning it on. He walks back helping to slowly peel you out of your clothes. You wince slightly from the pain having to lift your arms which causes a scowl to cross his face.

His eyes slowly scan over your body, but not in a wanting desire filled way; he is looking at your bruises and scars this being the first time he has laid eyes on your body since the accident. His eyes stare at your bruised ribs, hands gently rubbing up your arm tracing the faded colours of your skin. He sighs bringing his eyes back up to yours, shooting you a soft half smile.

He returns to the shower and places his hand under the stream adjusting the dials slightly “almost ready” he says stepping back closer to you. You shiver slightly from your exposed skin in the cool air in your bathroom, your nipples hardening. He pulls his shirt over his head and grips his pants, pulling them and his boxers down in one fast motion. You stare at his naked body, a confused look on your face.

“What are you doing?” you ask him as he stumbles out of his socks.

“Never had a problem with me being naked before” he smirks holding a hand out for you. You take his hand and step forward chuckling “I don’t have a problem with it, just wondering why you are naked.”

He helps you into the shower and you feel the warm stream hit your back “I just thought you could use some help, you’re still in a lot of pain. You can barely take your shirt off” he says adjusting the shower head to hit your hair. He gently runs his hands through your hair you tilt your head allowing you to gaze in his eyes.

The last week has been hard on him, the pain written all over Fred’s face; but today he finally looks at peace. He is still tired; physically, mentally and emotionally, and likely will be until the twins get home but getting you home has been a major relief to him. You coming home means Oliver gets to come home and the first step towards normalcy.

His beard is pretty grown in but given they are in the conference finals that doesn’t shock you. But his mustache that’s a different story. He had been trimming it to keep it from getting into his mouth, but it’s longer than you have ever seen it. It is fully curled into his mouth, but since he refused to leave unless it was to get Oliver it’s not that shocking.

He picks up your shampoo and begins massaging it into your hair. You sigh at the contact having forgotten his delicate touch eyes sliding down his body following the water dripping down his hard chest. You tilt your head, following the trail of water down the ‘V’ of his abs, onto his member.

“Hey” he says tilting your head up, directing your gaze to his dark brown eyes “gonna get shampoo in your eyes. Besides my eyes are up here” he jokes rubbing conditioner into your hair.

“Isn’t the pot calling the kettle black” you mumble with a mischievous grin on your face. Fred doesn’t respond busy rinsing the body wash from your body, but you can tell by his smirk he heard you. When he is done he reaches around you to turn the shower off, you place a quick kiss on his cheek your hand gripping his hips. He turns his head to look at you and smiles and kisses you on the lips; you taste the water that has pooled on his upper lip.

“You need to shave babe” you whisper, his hair tickling your upper lip.

“Been a little busy” he replies stepping away. He grabs a towel from the counter; rubbing it over his arms before wrapping it around his waist. He tucks it into itself, hanging low on his hips under the crease of his muscles. Next he grabs a towel gently wiping down your body before wrapping it around you. The soft fabric feels amazing against your skin having spent the past 8 days with cheap hospital bedding and towels.

“Well you have time now babe” you say as he brings another towel to your hair; dabbing the ends of it.

“We’ll see, kinda like it” he grins trying to wrap it around your head but it unravels in his hands a few times. He loudly groans attempting to redo it but it falls onto the floor landing in a pool of water.

“It’s fine, don’t worry I’m just going to nap soon anyways” you laugh knowing he won’t be able to get it to stay on its own. “I mean as long as you’re fine looking at my hair when it dries crazy.”

Fred rolls his eyes at you “dealt with your bad breath the first couple days I can deal with your wild hair” he says picking it.

“You said it wasn’t that bad” you yell.

“I lied” he responds your eyes going wide. “If I didn’t you would have tried to get up to the bathroom and you were supposed to rest.” The edges of his lips curl upwards slightly “it wasn’t that bad (Y/N).

“You’re lying” you say in a firm voice pretending to be mad your lip curling into a pout. Fred leans forwarding prying the pout from your face with his delicate kiss.

“But back to your facial hair” you smile and Fred just shakes his head helping you to the bedroom. He leaves you on the bed; you notice the duvet is crinkled having been quickly thrown on the bed. All but one pillow remain on the bed, the rest scattered on the floor. Not that that surprises you, Fred hates the pillows you have on the bed, saying the 10 décor pillows are excessive and unnecessary.

You sit on the bed goosebumps developing on your skin. Water dripping from your hair down your body sending a chill through your body. Fred walks in from the closet having exchanged his towel for grey sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. He has yet to brush his hair, damp red hair splayed across his forehead water droplets glistening in the lights.

He hands a pair of your grey track pants and one of his hoodies in his hands. He helps you get dressed, pulling the corner of the duvet back but you shake your head.

“Downstairs” you whisper knowing Oliver will be home soon and you want to spend as much time with him as possible.

Sometime later you are awoken by the sound of the front door closing. Oliver’s excited chatter echoing down the hall, and Fred trying to keep him quiet.

“She’s sleeping so we have to be quiet” you hear Fred say softly followed by a saddened “oh” from your son.

You don’t know how long you have been sleeping for but your body is starting to ache. You are lying on the couch in your living room; Fred brought your pillow down for you and placed a blanket over you while you slept. You sit up resting on your elbows and turning slightly to look down the hall waiting for him. You hear Oliver’s soft footsteps while he walks down the hall, his face lights up when he sees you are waiting for him.

“Mommy” he exclaims taking off running towards you.

“Hey Oliver” you laugh as he jumps on the couch wrapping his arms around your neck.

“Hi mommy” he says hugging you back. Fred walks in setting Oliver’s bag down in the room. Your eyes follow him while he grabs some drinks for everyone while you hold Oliver tight to your chest. You wipe away a few tears once Oliver finally pulls away “why are you crying mommy?” he asks concerned.

“Oh I’m just so happy” you respond pulling him back towards you. You kiss his head “I am so happy that I’m home and that your home with me.”

“I missed you” he sings pulling away when he feels the weight of the couch shift. Fred sits beside you pulling Oliver onto his lap handing you a drink and some pills.

“Want to watch a movie?” he asks him and Oliver nods in response

“What movie” he asks kissing his forehead. “Toy Story” Oliver responds causing you to smile.

Fred adjusts the pillow resting it against his thigh turning on the TV. You lay your head back on the pillow, placing a hand on his thigh. Fred gently runs his hands through your still slightly damp hair. His soothing actions and the pain pills you are on cause you to drift off partway through the movie begins.

“He’s asleep finally” Fred says crawling into bed later in the evening. “He wanted to stay with you, took a little convincing and 3 more stories.”

You laugh looking at him “sounds about right.” If you’re weren’t so sore you would have objected to Oliver sleeping in his bed, but you know you just need a couple nights rest without a squirmy toddler beside you.

“He missed you a lot” Fred whispers pushing some hair behind your ear, your hand lightly resting on his hard chest.

“I missed him too” you smile “and you, come closer” you say. Fred shakes his head at you causing a frown to develop on your face “I don’t want to hurt you” he says placing his hand on your forearm.

“You won’t, I promise” you respond lifting the duvet up for him. Fred hesitates his thumb gently rubbing your chin “how is this different than you lying beside me in that tiny hospital bed?”

“I never slept in that bed, I lied beside you but always moved to the cot to sleep. I knew I couldn’t hurt you if I was awake. When we sleep we move around and I just….I don’t...”

“Okay babe” you whisper running your hand across his chest. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed, it has been weeks since you have slept in the same bed as Fred. You have been yearning to wrap yourself in his arm, your head resting on his chest being lulled to sleep by the rise and fall of his chest. But after everything you understand his reluctance and shoot him a soft reassuring smile.

Fred grips your wrist bringing it to his lips for a kiss. He stares at the bare skin mumbling something before getting out of bed. He walks over to the hospital bag tearing everything out of it; you rise up to rest on your forearm watching him having no idea what he is looking for. Not that you mind, he is only wearing a pair of tight boxers that show off his sculpted glutes and thighs while he bends over. So you would be content watching him for a while.

He finally finds what he is looking for and walks back over to you. He takes your wrist wrapping the white gold bracelet around it and fastening the clasp. “The hospital had to take it off” he explains while you smile at him “but you look like your missing something without.”

“I felt like I was missing something” you respond eyes getting heavy.

“Babe you need to go back to hockey” you say to him. Fred hasn’t played a game since the accident; he has been reluctant to leave your side unless it’s to go to the hospital to see the twins or the store.

“Your parents are here, my grandparents are nearby. The twins are getting better, and stronger. Your team needs you” you say hands resting on his hips. His parents arrived a couple days ago and have been helping with everything while you recover.

You thought once they arrived Fred would get back into hockey knowing both you and Oliver would be in good hands during his absence, but that hasn’t been the case. Fred ended up going to a couple practices but still hasn’t given them a timeline for his return despite your encouragement. The Penguins are down 0-3, game four being tonight in Pittsburgh, they told him if he feels ready he can start game 4; thinking the change in net could help spark the team.

“My family needs me. You are more important” he responds looking over the stove spatula in his hand.

“I am doing better; I’m moving around, no longer on my pain meds. I am fine. The twins are fine, the doctors are happy with their progress. Your mom will make sure everything is fine” you say turning your head to the island where your son is colouring. “Do it for Ollie.”

“Do what for me?” you hear Oliver peak up at his name.

“Go play hockey tonight” you respond to him.

“Yay daddy!” he cheers running to Fred who scoops him up laughing.

“You should go Frederik; you know I raised four kids. Some people might say I know what I’m doing” Charlotte says from the couch.

He shoots you a glance and shakes his head groaning “we’ll see.”

A few hours later you are on the couch with Oliver, his parents downstairs watching a movie. Fred walks into the living room in in his navy pinstripe three piece suit, his hair has been lightly styled, but you can still see the waves from his curls. He has on a crisp white dress shirt with a red tie tucked behind the vest. He is adjusting the sleeve of his jacket, doing up the button when he looks up to see you staring at him with a grin across your face.

“Can’t look at me like that babe, not for at least 5 more weeks” he jokes kissing you softly.

“Then you can’t look this good” you mumble against his lips, feeling yourself instinctively get wet by his presence.

“You told me to go to hockey, you made me look this good” he says kissing you again.

“Bye daddy, have fun at hockey!” Oliver says wrapping himself around Fred’s legs. “I ordered you guy’s dinner, it will be here at 5:30” he says kissing you on the forehead. After dinner you and Oliver cuddle up on the couch watching the game.

Fred is having an amazing game, stopping every shot; completely in the zone. Oliver sits beside you and claps and cheers with every play Fred makes, you can see the pride radiating off of him. Charlotte laughs watching him “Fred used to be like that watching his dad play” she smiles turning back to the TV. Ernst asked Oliver if he wanted to go to the game, but he said he wanted to stay home with you resulting in the 4 of you watching in your living room.

You notice Oliver’s eyes getting heavy at the start of the 3rd period, you expect him to fall asleep, but you end up falling asleep first. You are awoken a little while later to Fred’s arms gently cradling you while he holds you against his chest.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep” you mumble against his chest.

“Are you serious? You’re supposed to be sleeping not up late watching hockey. Should be getting you in trouble for staying up so late, Oliver told me you made it part way through the third” he whispers placing you in the bed.

“He didn’t fall asleep?” you ask him.

“No, he was on the couch, reading to you while you slept. My mom tried to take him to bed and he said no I’m staying with mommy” you laugh at the strong willed nature of your toddler feeling the weight from duvet being pulled up your body. “Now go back asleep” he says placing a kiss on your lips before standing up to get changed.

“Wait” you mumble “how was the rest of the game?”

“We won 3-0” he says hanging his suit in his closet.

“Hey babe you’re up early” you hear Fred say through a raspy morning voice, wrapping his arms around you. You set your coffee on the counter and turn around in his arms you can see the bags that have developed under his eyes that are struggling to stay open. You bring your hands to cup his cheek running them through his beard bringing his face closer to yours. “I’m just so excited, I couldn’t sleep” you squeal kissing him.

Today after more than 5 weeks in the hospital the twins are coming home. It has been hard only getting a few hours with them every day, but today you finally get to bring them home. You thought that the best feeling was a week ago when you got to hold them for the first time but you were wrong. You know when you finally walk out the doors with them it will be the best thing ever. Fred’s arms wrap around your back and hold you tight to him “we can’t get them until 10, its 6:30” he laughs.

“I’m going to get ready!” you chirp, ignoring him and heading to shower.

A little while later you have done your hair and makeup when you are standing in your closet. You are in a pair of dark wash straight cut jeans and a bra trying to decide on a shirt. You look at yourself in the mirror, seeing the scar from you C-section, and some of the weight you haven’t lost from the pregnancy. You scowl running your hand over the stretch marks on your stomach.

“You look amazing elskede” you hear Fred say and you turn around and see him leaning against the door frame. You don’t know how long he has been standing there, but he knows exactly what you have been thinking the entire time. He walks over to you and puts his hands on your sides “I love you, and I think you look absolutely stunning.”

You roll your eyes slightly and shake your head at him “lose the weight, don’t lose it, gain more. I don’t care. I’m not with you for your looks just like you’re not with me for mine.”

“Eh” you joke shrugging causing Fred to laugh “I mean this” you point up and down his body “it’s very nice.”

You can practically hear his eyes roll in his head “just wait until I retire, dad bod all the way.”

You stand on your tippy toes and kiss him while laughing, arms wrapping around his neck. His hands slide to the small of your back, his pinky hooking through your belt loop while his mouth opens more for yours. You taste the coffee on his breath as his tongue slides in your mouth. You rock your hips up against him and he groans pulling his hips back “babe you can’t, doctor’s orders.”

“For me” you whisper in his ear “not you.” You bring a hand down and begin to palm over his jeans when he grips your wrist and pulls it off him. A pout comes across your face he quickly kisses it away “it’s almost 8:30, breakfast is ready. Come eat so we can bring our boys home.”

He gives you a playful tap on the ass before leaving the closet. His teasing sends shockwaves immediately to your core; you huff in disapproval mumbling under your breath before pulling on a white tank top with a light pink jacket.

“You ready to go babe?” you ask Fred who is sitting on the couch. He stands up and comes over to you “mommy I come too?” Oliver asks getting up from his toys.

“No buddy, you have to stay here with Christie” you say to him.

You see his eyes well up, bottom lip quivering, he has been having a rough couple days since Charlotte and Ernst left. They stuck around for a couple weeks after the series ended in a game 7 loss. Fred stepped in with a shutout in game 4 and helped them win 5 and 6 but game 7 went to the Leafs in an overtime loss.

They were hoping the twins would be discharged and they could have some time with them, but unfortunately they still had to stay in the NICU for a couple more weeks. The NICU tries to limit the number of visitors which resulted in them only seeing the twins twice during their trip, which is also why Oliver hasn’t spent much time with them. That and hospitals aren’t the most exciting place for two year olds.

Your eyes shoot up to Fred and you sigh, Fred crouching down beside you. “When we come home we will have dinner and play a game okay bud” he says rubbing his hand up Oliver’s arm. You watch him sniffle his tears back and turn around walking away from both of you.

“He will be fine babe” Fred says pulling you up to your feet. “The boys will be home soon and all three boys will be home causing mayhem” he says which earns a light chuckle from you. “Toys and books everywhere, food stuck under the couch cushions. Mini stick games in the basement, wrestling matches” he continues.

“That sounds amazing” you say laughing “I can’t wait for that crazy life with you.”

“I can’t believe they are coming home” you hum walking into the NICU picking up Noah from the incubator. You look to Fred and see him sitting in a rocking chair holding Lucas with no shirt on.

“Where is your shirt?” you ask eyes going wide. Your five pound son looks incredibly tiny pressed up against his 230 pound body, but perfect at the same time.

“Skin to skin contact is good for babies in the NICU, but it also helps them to bond with their dads, the smell or something” he explains smiling at you. “Where’d you go babe?” he says softly returning his attention to Lucas.

“I told you last week I had an appointment today” you explain wiping some spit from the corner of your son’s mouth. You walk over to the couch beside Fred and sit down eyes locked on your son.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Yeah just a check up on things since the accident” you respond the edges of your lips curling upwards. “Everything is fine” you coo in your baby voice. You bring Noah’s forehead up to yours and place a soft kiss on him.

Fred’s gaze bounces between you and Lucas for a few minutes before leaning in to press a soft kiss on your lips “this is amazing” he whispers when he pulls back Lucas cooing lightly in your arms.

“I know I can’t believe they can come home today” you say putting your head on his shoulder.

A half hour later you have swapped babies, when Lucas starts to fuss in your arms “I think he’s hungry” you say.

You had been pumping milk for the boys and bringing it with you, but hadn’t brought any with you today. Dr. Lang was supposed to discharge them over an hour ago but was called away for an emergency so you are patiently waiting his return for all of you to leave.

“You can try feeding” the nurse says to you from across the room. “It might take a bit to get them used to it, but they will catch on.”

After a little bit of a struggle and some help with a lactation specialist, he finally latches on. The familiar feeling of him feeding, the feeling you had begun to hate near the end with Oliver because of the pain is the greatest thing you have ever felt. Tears fall from your eyes as he eats; Fred stares at you for a minute placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“I feel so complete” you say looking into Fred’s dark brown eyes. He smiles looking into yours, a genuine smile one you haven’t seen on his face in a while; since you woke up from the accident.

A few minutes later their doctor comes to complete the final check before releasing them. He takes Lucas from you and completes the exam and giving him the green light before handing him back to you. You buckle him into his car seat, and turn your attention to the exam on Noah. You walk up beside Fred, and he gently places a hand on your back pulling you in close while you listen.

You immediately smell Fred’s cologne which captures your attention. You look at him and see him in a tight grey t-shirt with a pair of dark washed jeans. He has a navy blue ball cap resting a top his slightly untidy hair from when he pulled the shirt over his head. It has been getting harder over the past few weeks, to keep your hands off of him. You hadn’t been together for over a month before the accident, long before your argument. So it likely has been 10 to 12 weeks since you last slept together making everything he does buckle your knees.

If that wasn’t reason enough the pool is open and he has spent a big portion of his time in the water with Oliver. Wet sun-kissed topless Freddie has always been a soft spot for you, Freddie interacting with Oliver another soft spot; combining those things and your knees almost always giving out every time. Lying next to him at night, his hand resting gently on your waist, his hand running through your hair, him just being beside you in bed has been torture not being able to act on it.

After Noah’s exam Fred takes him to put him into the car seat the hospital staff leaving you. You walk over and stand by Fred when he buckles up the straps “this is it” you say excitedly looking at Noah “ready to go home!”

You feel Fred grab your hand, you turn to look at him and see him on one knee. You stare down into his brown eyes that look back at you full of love and adoration “we got to get going babe” you say turning back to Noah.

“(Y/N)” he says softly pulling your hand back turning you towards him squeezing your hand. “You are the most amazing woman in the world. You have brought me the three most beautiful boys and I can’t imagine going through any of this without you. I wouldn’t have made it through these last 6 weeks without you, you are my rock, always have been. Over three years ago I went out for one drink, I ended up with a lot more than I bargained for.” You laugh lightly at that, tears filling your eyes. Fred brings a hand up to the corner of his eye wiping away his tears chuckling lightly at himself. His hands reach out grasping your left hand in his before continuing “you came into my life so unexpectedly but I wouldn’t change anything. I love you and I can’t imagine doing any of this without you” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small blue jewelry box opening it and your jaw practically hits the floor.

“(Y/N) will you marry me?”

“YES! Oh my god yes Fred, of course” he slides the ring on your finger and stands up pulling you into a deep passionate kiss. Your hands slide through his beard his resting on the small of your back. You moan into the kiss your hands sliding up his face pushing his hat off his head. You hear it hit the floor, his hand dropping lower to your ass. You’re on your tippy toes tongue swirling around his mouth, arms wrapping around his neck “oh sorry” you hear someone say causing you to pull apart; a nurse having walked in to check on a baby in the NICU.

You’re eyes go wide and you turn your back hiding your embarrassment against Fred’s chest. “Sorry about that” he responds clearing his throat, a hand gently touching yours.

“No it’s okay” she responds you can hear how flustered she is without even seeing her face “I was just getting something.”

“We were leaving anyways” Fred explains pulling back from you. He looks down at you, embarrassment plastered on your face. He smirks at you, you hiding your face in your hands. You hear her footsteps descend out of the room; Fred’s hands pull your arms down and you into his chest.

You look up at him a large grin plastered on his face but embarrassment still showing on yours “sorry” he says brushing your hair behind your shoulders. “I was going to wait until we all got home, but I just couldn’t wait.”

You run your fingers over his forearms “babe are you apologizing for proposing?” you ask staring into his golden brown eyes.

“No, but I am sorry for doing it in the NICU” he laughs. “I had a plan, a more private plan. Dinner, candles, music, the sunset. Ugh it was such a good plan” he groans.

You smile chuckling at him “babe none of that stuff matters. I don’t care how you propose just that you did.” You wrap your arms around his neck pulling his face closer to yours “we’re getting married” you squeal.

“Mhm Mrs. Andersen” he mumbles a hand returning to your back bringing you closer to him but before he can do anything Noah begins to cry in the car seat. Fred chuckles and places a quick kiss on your cheek “forgot babies have a radar for when you touch their mom” he groans. You pull apart laughing and Fred turns to pick up both their carriers with ease. He walks out of the room first you trailing behind, you feel yourself getting wet watching him from behind. You see the veins of his biceps, his back and shoulder muscles barely straining with the weight. The fabric clinging to his torso being stretched around his flexing muscles makes your panties immediately dampen, you bite your bottom lip to prevent yourself from moaning for everyone to hear.

A little while later you open the door and Oliver comes running to greet you “my brothers” he says as Fred sets the carriers down. Fred pulls him into his arm for a hug “yeah, they are home now. This one is Lucas and this one…”

“Is Noah” Oliver claims. “When can I play hockey with them?” he asks earning a laugh from both of you. “In a little bit, they need to get a little bit bigger, a little stronger” Fred responds.

“Right now they will be just doing a lot of eating and sleeping so they can grow. But soon they will be big enough to play with you” you say hugging him. Oliver wanders off unimpressed with that answer, all he has been talking about is playing hockey with them for months. You chuckle slightly shaking your head while you and Fred take the twins to sleep in their bassinets.

“You like your ring babe?” Fred asks when you sit beside him on the couch.

“Honestly I haven’t really looked at it” you say laughing. “It was such an amazing day, but this ring could be plastic I wouldn’t care.”

“Better not be plastic for what I paid for it” he laughs.

“I just mean, this isn’t about the ring, it’s about what it represents” you say kissing him. You sit up on your knees running your hand through his beard “it represents us; our family, our crazy love story and I honestly couldn’t care what it looks like or where you got it.”

You bring your lips to his for a soft kiss “but now that you brought it up” you giggle pulling away.

You bring your left hand closer to your face examining the beautiful engagement ring sparkling on your finger. There is one large oval cut centre stone that shines in the light, and is surrounded by multiple smaller halo diamonds. There is some of the smaller diamonds going down the platinum band.

“This ring is so beautiful” you kiss him again.

“You deserve it babe” he says kissing you back and pulling you into his lap. He brings your fingers up to his and slides the ring off you. Confusion washes over your face and he brings up the band “see that” he says showing you the engraving on the inside of the band. You pick the ring from his hand reading the tiny cursive on the inside.

Du var ventetiden værd 12-02-2021

“You were worth the wait” he whispers and you feel tears prick the corner of your eyes.

“Fred” you whisper as he slides it back onto your finger. Your eyes look up to meet his gaze your fingers becoming intertwined with his. “It’s too much babe, like way too much” you say not even wanting to know the price tag that comes along with it.

“Nonsense elskede, nothing is ever enough for you” he kisses you again in a deep passionate kiss. “You do so much for me; I would give you the world if I could.” The smile plastered on Fred’s face has yet to dissipate since you were at the hospital becomes engulfed in your lips. You bring him in for a deep passionate kiss his hand sliding to your side; “yuck daddy” you hear Oliver chirp from his toys. You both pull apart and start laughing with your foreheads still touching.

“Daddy gave mommy her pretty ring” Fred says to Oliver.

“It’s so pretty mommy” he responds building with his blocks. You turn to Fred eyes narrowed slightly “you took him to see the ring?” you ask knowing he doesn’t have the best track record with secrets.

“Yeah you were sleeping and I had an appointment at the jewelers to pick out the setting so I had to bring him. When we came home you were still asleep so I think that helped him not being able to tell you right away. But he said it was the prettiest ring ever” you smile at that, having to agree with your toddler.

Later that night you crawl into bed having just got the twins down, Fred joins you soon after having put Oliver to sleep. You slide up beside him in the crook of his arm, him pulling you against his chest. His hand gently strokes over your back rubbing soft circles. You sigh at the contact, softly running you your finger up and down his stomach. You both lie there in a state of silent bliss for the first time in months, your family finally complete.

Your finger slides low, feeling the hairs resting just above his pelvis. You lay your hand flat, palm sliding across his lower abs, “(Y/N)” he groans a sharp exhale exiting his mouth.

Your head tilts up to look at him, the edges of his lips curling up slightly. “What” you ask innocently batting your lashes.

He shifts a bit under you; bringing his hand to grip your wrist “behave” he grunts.

“Why?” you ask coyly rolling more onto your stomach. You free your hand and begin to palm over him through his boxers again.

“We can’t” he says while your lip attaches to his neck sucking softly. A moan leaves his lips, your leg hooks over his “who says” you whisper nipping his ear. You straddle him, lips peppering his neck and collar bone. You roll your hips feeling his semi-hard member for the first time in over 3 months.

“(Y/N)” he groans shifting under you trying to free himself but it only encourages you, sucking harder on his neck. He carefully flips you onto your back “you have to stop. It’s not fair to start something you can’t finish.”

A grin crosses your face “well good thing the doctor cleared me to finish this.”

“Oh yeah” he smirks arms resting on either side of your head. His hands tangle into your hair lips hovering an inch from yours. You bite your bottom lip nodding up at the large Dane above you. Fred brings his lips down to yours locking you in a kiss. It is a heated kiss full of passion and hunger, both of you yearning for this long forgotten touch.

His lips gently attach to the sweet spot below your ear; you tilt your neck allowing him more access a soft moan leaving your lips. His hand slides under your tank top, finding your perk nipple; he gently massages it while your back arches off the bed.

He gently spreads your legs with his thighs and brings a hand up the inside of your thigh to your slit. He runs it over you feeling some juices that have collected “fuck baby” he mumbles “your soaked.”

“Have been for weeks” you moan feeling his digits dance around your entrance. His thumb begins to softly graze over your swollen bud. You feel his two fingers gently open your folds waiting to sink in. He drops his head onto your shoulder and huffs in disappointment.

“What is it Fred?” you whisper sensing his hesitation.

“I don’t want…what if I hurt you” he asks softly.

“We went through this after I gave birth to Ollie, and you didn’t hurt me then” you explain bringing your hand up into his hair gently running it through.

“Yeah but last time you weren’t in a car accident that almost killed you” he says to your chest head buried between your breasts. “It’s different than last time” he whispers pulling his head up resting on his forearms.

You cup his face gently running your hand through his beard “babe I love you and how much you worry. But I am fine; the doctor said so. I promise you I am fine” you draw his lips down to yours kissing him softly.

Fred’s eyes shift over your face while he processes your words. “If you want to wait then we will wait, but whether we have sex tonight, a week from now or a month from now these worries won’t go away. They won’t go away until we have sex and you see it’s true. But my preference is to have sex with my incredibly sexy fiancé tonight” you pop the word fiancé, it being the first time the word has fallen from your lips.

“Fiancé” he hums “I like that” a large grin plastered on his face.

You raise your eyebrows at him a sideways grin on your face feeling him shift above you. “Well get used to it fiancé” you grin. His mouth re-attaches to your neck gently nipping the skin causing whimpers to slip from your lips.

“What about birth control babe? We haven’t needed condoms in a while” he murmurs against you skin gently biting your neck.

You gasp brining your hands to his broad shoulders the warm feeling of his breath drawing you closer. He sucks on your sweet spot your nails digging in slightly to his skin. “Well” you moan “I didn’t get any today but the doctor said breastfeeding is effective at preventing pregnancy” you trail off feeling him massaging your sensitive breast softly. Your eyes roll slightly into the back of your head his mouth trailing lower down your chest where the shirt allows.

“And I’m going to make an appointment for an IUD soon and then no more babies” you say between your moans. He bites your tank top and pulls the fabric lower with his teeth exposing your breast. His mouth attaches to the freshly exposed skin “but until then we should wait no?” he mumbles.

“We can wait until I get an IUD which I don’t even have an appointment for, or you can run to the store and buy some condoms” you groan tilting your neck while his teeth gently graze over your nipple. “But the doctor said breast feeding is 99% effective for six months or something.” “That’s pretty good” he mumbles pulling your shirt over your head reattaching his mouth to your breasts.

“Yeah and I’ll get an IUD before then” you groan hands sliding down his back. “Babe their sensitive” you groan while he sucks on your breasts.

“They are also larger than normal” he smiles popping his head up to look at you.

“Both the result of breast feeding” you respond laughing at him. You feel his hard member pressing into your stomach through his boxers.

Your hand slides further down his firm back feeling the curve of his muscles while he exhales above you. Your hands reach the elastic of his boxers; they slip under the band and begin to pull the fabric down his ass. You gently grip it and squeeze, pulling him toward you earning a chuckle from him.

He pulls your shorts down your legs and you feel his hard member pressing at your entrance “you sure” he asks one final time. You nod and feel him slowly slip in your walls causing you to take a deep breath in.

He stops only partially in watching your face scrunch up, slowly exhaling “it’s okay” you whisper. He pulls out almost all the way and slides back in at a painfully slow pace, again not using his full length. He does this a few more times allowing you time to stretch and familiarize yourself with him.

Your hands grip the hair on the back of his neck while he continues his slow pace. You arch your back and roll your hips trying to bring him deeper but he pulls back still not bottoming out in you. He rocks his hips in and out a few more times, you bend your knee and his large calloused hand runs up and down the back of your thigh slowly keeping his gentle rhythm inside you.

“Babe” you groan putting your hands onto his shoulder pushing his body away from you causing him to pull out. Fear washes over his face thinking something is wrong. “I’m not going to break” you push him onto his back straddling him.

You grip his member and line yourself up slowly drop down on him, taking him in. You feel your walls fully take him in; you stare at the man below you for a second allowing a smile to cross your face. You rise up drop down on him, Fred allowing you to set the pace, his hands gently holding your hips. Your hand drops onto his lower abs your head falling backward while you continue slowly rising on him.

Soft moans begin to leave your lips, your lashes graze your cheeks. His thumb presses into the sides of your hips a grin crossing his face as he relaxes watching you. You hand slides up his chest, your hair falling in front of your face while you slowly increase the pace. Fred brings a hand around his thumb resting against your hungry bud.

He locks eyes with you and you nod; his thumb pressing soft circles bucking his hips up into you. Your hand slides across his chest slick with sweat to his shoulder; digging into him. You fall forward Fred catches you while he sits up in the bed bringing his mouth to your swollen breast. His other hand trails up your spine lightly grazing your skin leaving goosebumps in its wake. You shudder against his touch while his hand makes it way to your hair tangling into it.

You feel your high approaching, the familiar burn building in the pit of your stomach. Fred flattens his tongue licking around your nipple; your arms wrap around his neck running your nails against his scalp.

“Close baby?” he mumbles sucking on your neck.

You bite your bottom lip deep moans leave you as you are unable to respond, though you know Fred knew the answer before even asking the question. After 3 and a half years Fred knows your body almost better than you do, and he noticed your telltale signs as soon they started.

Whimpering at the sensation overcoming your body, you draw him closer; pulling your body against his. He bites your shoulder and you cry out head falling backward. He uses this as an opportunity to nip the exposed flesh along your collarbone.

Fred’s hips continue to lift from the bed, him now taking over the pace. You feel him stutter getting close to his high. His thumb presses firmer into your swollen bud as you feel your walls starting to flutter around him.

“Cum for me (Y/N)” he strains.

A few more thrusts and you feel the coil in your stomach snap, you clench pulling him deep inside of you. Fred grunts before twitching inside of you, and you are flooded with his familiar warmth. He shoots wave after wave of cum into your pussy while you moan into his shoulder. After a few thrusts Fred stills under you allowing you both to capture your breaths.

“You okay babe?” he asks tilting your head to look into your eyes. You nod a few soft whimpers leaving your lips in response. You sit there in bliss Fred brushing the hair off your forehead. After a deep breath the edges of your lips curl up into a smile “perfect” you finally whisper in response.

His fingers gently run over the curves of your body settling on your waist. He slowly lifts you up slipping out of you, a mixture of juices spilling down your thigh while he sets you beside him. You go to lie down but Fred quickly picks you up, pulling you against his sweaty bare chest. He brings you into the shower, sitting you on the bench, the cool marble sending a chill through your body.

Fred turns on the water and looks at you, goosebumps covering your body teeth clattering. He runs his hand under the stream turning his attention to you laughing at the sight “it’s not cold, you’re so dramatic” he laughs. He reaches out wrapping his large hand around your wrist pulling you against his hard chest.

“You love it” you chuckle arms wrapping around his waist guiding him backwards to the stream.

“Mhm” he hums spinning you into the water “I sure do fiancé.”

Next Chapter

#frederik andersen #Freddie Andersen #fred andersen #frederik andersen x reader #frederik andersen fic #frederik andersen smut #freddie andersen smut #freddie andersen x reader #freddie andersen fic #fred andersen smut #fred andersen x reader #Fred Andersen Fic #nhl fic #nhl smut #because two people got drunk #my writing

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fly-flower-fanfics · 4 years

Text

Bandaged Up

Hizashi Yamada (Present Mic) x Male Reader

Warnings: Depression, graphic self harm, hitting oneself, abuse mentioned, hair pulling out

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hizashi wouldn’t be home for another couple of hours. He had business at the school to do. I was thankful he wasn’t here, but it also hurt my heart. I needed him. I needed someone. All my friends — the few I had — worked at UA. I had just been left go. Today was my last day at work. I had only worked 4 hours today.

The company had been making a lot of cuts, but after working there for fifteen years, I thought I had some certainty in staying. But I guess I was wrong. Today was so stressful for me, knowing it was my last day, because Hizashi didn’t know about it.

I hadn’t told him. I couldn’t bring myself to explain that I had been let go, that I was struggling to find other work. I thought by now I would have a job again, but I didn’t. I knew this was coming, in a way.

I stopped eating as much, afraid to spend Hizashi’s money. I started wearing the same clothing a few days in a row to do less laundry, causing me to use less water. I couldn’t be a freeloader. I wouldn’t let myself become one.

I stormed into the kitchen, tearing brimming in my eyes. How was I going to tell Hizashi? I still had time to figure it out, but how would he react? Would he be mad? Think I wasn’t trying hard enough? That because I wasn’t a hero, that I brought this upon myself?

A million thoughts and questions ran through my head, making everything so loud. I covered my ears, tears now dripping down my cheeks. Yet that seemed to do nothing but amplify the sounds. I pressed my palms against my ears harder, as if adding pressure would drown out the noises. Again, it was a failure.

I knew I was spiraling now; I was working myself up. But I couldn’t seem to stop myself. My chest tightened. Hizashi was going to be so mad. He was going to yell at me. He was going to leave me. I had enough money left for a little while, maybe I didn’t have to tell him yet. But then he would wonder why I’m home all day. Maybe I wouldn’t have to tell him that either.

My arms began to ache from the pressure I was putting on my head, so I dropped my hands. But they were shaking, trembling with fear. I had to tell him. It wasn’t fair to keep secrets like that. It wasn’t right. It I’d be living with him and using his money, he had a right to know why I couldn’t pay for much anymore.

I shook my head violently, trying to breathe. No no no. No. I can’t tell him. I just couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to do it today. Today was too much so as it is.

I curled my hands into fists, frowning when I felt a cold metal in my hand. I looked down, seeing that I now held a knife. I frowned. When did I get this? My heart skipped a beat as I sucked in a breath.

I had a history with self harm that Hizashi didn’t know about. I wouldn’t tell him. We’ve been together for a year now, but I never let him see the scars on my thighs or upper arms. I had been clean for almost six months now, so I didn’t really feel a need to tell him. I had been doing so well...

I gently touched the blade, feeling that this must have been a new knife as it was pretty sharp. I found myself carrying it to the bathroom, my feet moving without much thought.

I sat down on the lid of the toilet, staring at the metal utensil. This is a punishment for losing your job. I closed my eyes, whimpering softly. This is your punishment. You deserve this. I shifted, dropping my sweatpants to the floor around my ankles. I rolled up the edge of my boxers and looked at all the other scars that painted my skin with white marks.

A numb feeling washed over me. I stopped crying, but I didn’t dry my tears. I pressed the knife against my skin, dragging it slowly. Pain bloomed, but I didn’t dare stop. Again, I lifted the knife, pulling it back along my skin. Again. And again. And again. The blade was covered in red. My blood spilled out of the cuts smoothly, building up to run down my thigh.

I grabbed some toilet paper and drabbed at them. I shifted a bit, adjusting myself so I could make work of my other thigh. This time, I did more than simple cuts; I carved a reminder I to myself.

F A I L U R E

The letters filled with blood, making the letters look bold and running into one another as the bled more. Once again, I wiped away the blood.

My eyes then turned to my arm. I didn’t feel like I did enough. My punishment wasn’t over yet. I didn’t think as I slid the knife across my forearm, a place I hadn’t yet cut before. It was almost euphoric, cutting in a new place. Ruining the pristine skin there, knowing it would scar. I deserved it.

Feeling rushed back into my all of a sudden, the pain increasing tenfold. I cried out, dropped the bloodied knife as I stared in shock at what I had done. Six months, down the drain. Six months, gone.

Quickly, I scrambled through the bathroom cabinet for bandages, wrapping the still bleeding cuts up. In my panic, though, I realized I didn’t regret what I had done. I only was panicking because I couldn’t let Hizashi find out. I didn’t want to see his disappointment. His anger. His disgust.

I put my sweatpants back on, hiding the bandage on my thigh easily. However, I now needed a long sleeve shirt to hide my arm.

I bent down a picked up the knife, taking it with me as I went to the kitchen. I washed it off, using soap and water, and then replacing it back where I had gotten it from. Maybe Hizashi would never notice it was moved and used at all.

I made my way to the bedroom, digging through our shared dresser. I knew it would seem a bit suspicious if I used one of my own long sleeve shirts, so I stole one of Hizashi’s and slid it on. I rolled up the sleeves instead of just pushing them up in fear of exposing the bandage.

I walked back out to the living room and sat down on the couch. I felt.... weary. Drained. I stayed silent and still on the couch, just trying to feel something. Anything. Anything at all.

When they didn’t work, I went and put on a playlist that always got Hizashi and I happy and in a dancing mood. I turned the volume up and sat back down on the couch. The CD player took a little bit to load, but I didn’t mind. The quiet before the music gave me more time to think. More time to analyze.

As the music stared, I closed my eyes. Maybe that would help me feel it more. Feel the rhythms and beats. I knew all the lyrics by heart, so my lips moved soundlessly along. But I felt no different. Not happier. Not more energized. Not anything but empty.

Yet I left the music on as I got up, tending to some cleaning that the house needed. Might as well be useful for something. Besides, Hizashi was a clean freak and liked a clean house. Not that ours was dirty by any means right now, but I found myself straightening picture frames and finishing up a few dishes that were left in the sink.

“Yo, babe, having a party without me?!” I heard Hizashi’s voice come from the living room. I hadn’t even heard the front door close due to the music. I wiped my face just in case there were any stray tears on it. Thankfully, my eyes never got super red when I cried. My nose just turned pink, and maybe Hizashi wouldn’t notice that.

I walked from the kitchen, plastering a smile on my face, and greeting my boyfriend. “Welcome home,” I half yelled over the music.

Hizashi was swaying to the beat, bopping his head a bit as well. He had his signature smile on his face, too. Even then, I couldn’t make my smile feel real. Everything I was felt fake right now.

Hizashi walked up to me and wrapped me into a hug, kissing my temple. As I hugged him, I let my smile fall. Why keep up the facade if he couldn’t see me? Yet in those few seconds of being hugged and held, my fake smile gone, a long formed in my throat. I wanted to tell him. I wanted to be comforted by him. But I knew better, and he shouldn’t have to worry about me, too, on top of all his other responsibilities.

As he pulled away, I forced my smile back onto my lips. He was just as handsome as ever. A pit formed in my stomach. I don’t deserve him.

“I’m gonna go take a shower, babe,” Hizashi said.

I nodded a little bit. “All right, dear.”

He disappeared around the corner, allowing my facade to disappear as well. I went and turned off the music, taking out the CD, and putting it back in his case. Hopefully Hizashi wouldn’t want to go out tonight. I just wasn’t feeling it.

It was only about ten minutes before the water stopped and the hair dryer started. A small smile pulled back part of my lips. This meant Hizashi was going to let his hair down. I loved when he had his hair down.

He came out of the bathroom a while later. He was shirtless, decked out in only a pair of sweatpants and socks. His eyes trailed me up and down, a light smirk on his face. “Why you got so much clothing on? You’re smokin’ hot. Why don’t you come chill off with me?” He wiggled his eyebrows at me.

Usually his silly antics to get me to be shirtless would’ve made me laugh, but all I could was offer up a weak smile. “I’m just cold today, love.”

Hizashi’s smile faded a little bit. I knew he could tell something was wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what. I hoped he would let it go, but that was wishful thinking. Hizashi never let problems go unsolved.

He took a seat next to me on the bed, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “You feeling okay, baby?”

“I’m okay,” I lied, shrugging lightly. “I’m just tired is all.”

Hizashi’s smile faded completely, and I knew I fucked up. I never told Hizashi I was tired, ever. I was only tired if I was sick or if I was literally falling asleep, and I had just basically told him I wasn’t either of the two.

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he whispered to me, pressing a light kiss onto my cheek.

I looked down at my lap, my eyes bouncing between my thighs. I couldn’t tell him, but my emotions began to bubble to the surface, and I felt my throat tighten. I shook my head slightly, tears welling up in my eyes. I tried to blink them away.

“You won’t like it, Zashi,” I said softly.

“I don’t like when you’re upset. I’d rather you talk to me about it.”

A tear slipped down my cheek, and I tried to hide it from him. “You’ll be upset with me. You’ll be mad. You’ll be disgusted. I-I can’t have that. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

I pushed myself away from him, getting up and taking my hands through my hair. Tears ran down my cheeks more freely now, and my fists weakly hit the sides of my head in an attempt to think straight.

“Baby,” he whispered.

I wasn’t listening. Everything from today was bubbling back up, demanding to be felt. Demanding to be told. Demanding to be heard. My fists began to tap my head harder, causing a dull ache to spread from the spots that were being hit.

“No, no, no, Zashi, no. No, you don’t get it. You-you don’t get it.” My fingers laced themselves in my hair, tugging on it harshly. I almost yelped in pain, but it was comforting in a way. “You-you can’t understand. I-I can’t tell you. I can’t I can’t I can’t.”

I pulled harder on my hair, then raking my hands through it. I shook my hands a little once they were out of my hair, strands of it falling from my fingers. I had a bad habit of pulling out my hair when I got overwhelmed. My fingers twirled around smaller chunks now, intentionally ripping the hair out as my vision blurred further.

I heard Hizashi get up and he grabbed my wrists, squeezing them lightly. “Hey, hey, hey, baby. Don’t do that. Give me your hands. Let me see them.”

I released my hair from my grip, my hands trembling in Hizashi’s hands. He held them close to his chest, away from my head.

“Zashi....” His gaze was full of concern and sadness. It made my heart hurt. I was doing this to him. I was hurting him. My knees felt weak, and I wanted to sink to the ground. “Zashi...”

“I’m here, baby. Right here.”

I choked on a sob. “I-I lost my job. They l-let me go. I-I can’t...can’t find another one. I-I don’t know what to do. Zashi, I relapsed. It h-hurts. It hurts it hurts it hurts.”

I felt myself falling, my knees too weak to keep me standing. Hizashi pulled me against his chest, lowering me to the ground with him. He stayed quiet as he pet hair lightly.

“How long has this been going on?” he asked quietly.

“Too long,” I whimpered, unsure of what answer to give him. Did he mean my self harm tendencies or my job? Both had been for a while now.

“You’re not alone, darling. I don’t want you to feel alone. I’m here. I’m here. I’m not mad at you. I love you. I love you so much.”

I was struggling to hear Hizashi over my whimpers and gasps of breath. I do desperately wanted to believe him, but I didn’t know how. I couldn’t. There wasn’t any way he could truly mean what he said.

“Believe me,” he whispered, and I heard his voice break a little. “I love you. And I want to help you. I’m here for you. I got you, darling. You’re going to be okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

He scooped me into his arms and sat me down on the bed, kneeling in front of me. He still held my hands, kissing the backs of them lightly. I didn’t deserve this. I didn’t deserve any of that at all.

We stayed quiet for a while. He just held me, gently swaying back and forth with me in his arms. He hummed softly, running his fingers through my hair, down my back. Hizashi cradled me in his arms.

“I need you to show me,” he whispered after a little while, his eyes staring into mine. I sniffled, having calmed down a little bit when Hizashi was whispering to me.

“Sh-show you?”

“You told me you relapsed. I-I need to see. I have to make sure you’re taking care of yourself... of the cuts.”

I hesitated, shakily taking off my shirt, exposing my bandage. “Th-there’s more,” I mumbled quietly. I shuffled a little bit, sliding my sweatpants down a little to expose my boxers. I pushed them up, exposing those bandages as well. “That’s it.”

Hizashi got up, kissing my forehead. “I’m going to get something to clean them with. Okay? I’ll bandage them back up and we can cuddle after. Is that all right?”

I sniffled, biting my lower lip. I guess it would have to be, so I nodded a little. He got up and left, leaving me alone for a few seconds. I wiped at my eyes violently, angry at myself. I didn’t know how Hizashi wasn’t mad at me. Or disgusted. Or anything for that matter. He was upset. Concerned. And I didn’t understand why.

He came back, a bottle, some bandages, and paper towels in hand. “It’s going to sting a little bit, okay?” I nodded, sniffling again.

He undid the bandages gently, taking in the red, abused skin. He didn’t stay anything as he carefully began to clean the ones on my legs. I didn’t watch him do it. I couldn’t. It wasn’t because it hurt a lot, but because I didn’t want to see the way his eyes held the pain and sorrow of my actions.

I heard him gasp softly as he moved to my other thigh, the one with the word carved into it. Fresh tears welled up in my eyes. I felt his hands shake as he cleaned the wound.

“You’re not a failure,” he whispered to me. “Never.” He rebandaged my cuts, moving to my arm. He gave it the same treatment as he did to my legs.

“Do you want to cuddle?” Hizashi asked me quietly. I’d never seen him so quiet before, but maybe he knew that I needed it right now.

“Yes, please,” I whispered.

Hizashi pulled me into his arms, careful of my new bandages. He laid down with me, shifting so my legs were tangled with his, and my head laid on his chest. His hair tickled my cheek, but I didn’t mind. I closed my eyes, stifling the little hiccups from crying so much.

“Baby?”

“Hm?”

“I’m so in love with you. I love you so much. I don’t care what you’re going through; I want to go through it with you. You aren’t alone. I’ll support you until you get another job, and you don’t have to feel bad about it. I’ll be here to help you with your mental health. I’m here for you, baby boy. I’m always here for you.”

I whimpered, hiding my face in his chest. “Thank you, Zashi... I’m sorry I’m... like this.”

“No, baby, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you. We’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. Just talk to me next time, okay?”

I let out a shuddery breath. “I’m going to try... I-I was doing so well. I just... broke...”

“We all have bad days. I’m here to help you on yours. Don’t worry about a thing, sugar. I’ve got you.”

I closed my eyes, my hand settling on his chest to feel his heartbeat. He meant everything that he was saying. I truly never loved another person as much as I loved Hizashi.

“Thank you. I love you.”

“And I love you.”

#x male reader #gay #my hero academia #hizashi yamada x reader #hizashi yamada #hizashi yamada x male reader #my hero academia fic #yamada hizashi #yamada hizashi x reader #yamada hizashi x male reader

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unprofessional-bard · 4 years

Text

Chapter 3 - To Have and to Hold

Losing My Religion Series Masterlist

Unprofessional Bard's Masterlist

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Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Warnings: Depressive episodes + some suicidal thoughts... mostly angst but some fluff?? :")

Summary: The reader gets better and better each day, fitting better into her new life in Jackson, while Joel and Ellie continue their journey. The reader, after over five months, is greeted by unexpected visitors during patrol one day.

Word Count: 6.034. Grab a snack maybe?

Author's Note: As I mentioned in the previous chapter, I don't have PTSD or depression, but I do a lot of research about these mental illnesses before I write; once more, my last wish is to offend any of you, so my deepest apologies if I do! ! I do hope you like it!

Enjoy!

"(Y/N), you up?" You heard Tommy's voice as he and Maria peeked into the room.

"Thanks to you, yes." The edges of your lips turned up, eyes still closed.

"You've been asleep for almost five hours, we got worried." Maria said. "Tommy wanted to talk to you."

You opened your eyes, watched Maria leave and Tommy sit on a chair beside your bed: "How you doin'?"

"No nightmares," You sighed and pulled yourself up and leaned your back on the wall. "The bed was pretty comfortable, I'd say my body's rested at least. You found Ellie?"

"Yeah, about that," Tommy scratched the back of his head. "We found her, she's alright but..."

It turned out that Ellie and Joel had been on the road for awhile and that Joel and Tess were tasked with carrying her across the country because she was a potential cure, a way to save humankind. Joel apparently wanted Tommy to take her to the Fireflies and convinced him to do so too, but just after they found Ellie and brought her back to town, Joel had a change of mind and took off with Ellie to Salt Lake City. You felt sick again, finding out that Ellie was immune and she was gone now, without saying a goodbye. You zoned out and stared at your hands resting on your lap.

"But uh, Maria arranged a house for you," Tommy smiled softly.

You nodded, still feeling numb and shocked: "Appreciate it..."

Tommy reached out and gave a firm squeeze to your shoulder: "They're going to be okay, (Y/N)... Now Maria told me what kind of a bond you shared with Ellie and I know you're upset, but she's capable of taking care of herself. Now Joel, much of an asshole he is- he's going to protect Ellie and they're gonna be just fine. They'll be back, don't you worry."

You nodded again and looked at him when he told you to get up so he can show you around and to your new house.

It had been so long since you'd seen lights and so many people together, people who didn't attack or yell orders at each other. They were just happy, minding their own businesses and, according to Tommy, headed to the 'theatre'. But for some reason you couldn't truly feel happy about it- getting a random headache instead. You could really use another nap right now.

"Here you go," Tommy led you to a small, cabin-like house. There was a salon and a kitchen to the left, and a bathroom and small living room to the right and right across the hallway, a bedroom; there was also a small balcony and garden connected to the bedroom. You couldn't have asked for anything more from neither Maria nor Tommy. "Take a bath and get rid of your clothes - Maria got you some new ones. We're going to have dinner in an hour or so, I'll send a guy to pick you up. That okay?"

"Yeah," you sucked your lips in and sighed, wrapping your arms around yourself. "Thank you Tommy. Really-"

"Don't mention it," Tommy patted your arm. "Think of this as a repayment from that last time, or just... humanly behaviour, you choose."

You sighed and felt your eyes water again, quickly wiping it with your palm.

"I'll leave you to it," Tommy said and walked away. You gulped and let out a shaky breath, entering your new house and closing the door. You walked around slowly, taking short looks at the rooms as you approached your new bedroom. Maria had left a pair of jeans, which at first looked too small for you, a black undershirt with black, normal panties along with a dark red, turtleneck sweater. They smelled as if they were fresh out of a washing machine. You dropped your backpack on the floor next to your bed, then lurked back to the bathroom to start the water.

You came back to the bedroom to take out some stuff from your backpack when you noticed a note left on the bed next to the sweater:

Hey! I hope these clothes are okay. Neither of us knew what size you wear, so I took a few guesses and, if they don't fit you or if they're too warm/cold, just let me or Tommy know and I'll try to find something else for you. You can put your dirty clothes in the bin outside the entrance, someone will come and pick them up. I hope you like it here :)

Maria

You smiled briefly, then picked up the gas lamp on your nightstand (which worked with a candle) and put the note under it. Your fingertips lingered on the lamp as you felt a great amount of guilt and grief settle in you. I don't deserve this, you thought to yourself and bit your bottom lip to stop it from quivering.

Too much to think about...

Too many people to grieve...

You almost forgot about the bathtub and went back to the bathroom, to find it almost completely filled. You saw a pink soap at the edge of the bathtub which you didn't notice- or forgot? Whatever, there was a goddamn soap you could clean yourself with.

You took off your clothes and threw them into a pile and slowly dipped yourself in the warm water, sighing at the contact. Dry blood immediately changed the colour of the water a little but you couldn't bring yourself to wash your body just yet. Instead, you pulled your legs to your chest, wrapped your arms around them and placed your chin on your knees. This gave you a moment to think: To think about everything you've done, everything you've seen, everything you've been through; Why me? I don't deserve this. were the only words echoing through your mind, convinced that you truly didn't deserve to be alive. Your chest felt really tight all of a sudden and you forced yourself to calm down again, only to remember that you can cry, sob, whine and grieve your loved ones now. You were safe and sound, no one was around and you didn't have to stay strong for anyone anymore. You could put your guard down and be fragile, like a porcelain doll.

Tears began streaming down your face.

You closed your eyes tightly, pulled your knees closer and held your arms tighter as you bewailed; like you'd simply die if you dared hold it in any longer.

Felicity... Kurt... Maxim... Amanda... Robin and Cole...

They deserve this- they deserve a good life, I don't.

I let them down, get them all killed and get a fucking reward for it? Unbelievable.

Your fingers brushed your hair back as you cried and whined, leaning back on the wall to your right. You covered your face with both of your hands, dry blood around your body dissolving into the water in the meanwhile.

You had no idea how long you'd been crying, but you immediately stopped when there was a knock on the door.

"(Y/N), sorry to bother you," It was Maria. "I brought you some shoes, socks and some other stuff I thought you might need."

Your chin trembled as you panicked in the tub, water now cold: "I- I'm in the bath right now!"

"Okay, I'll just-" You heard the door open after you noticed how your voice cracked. "I'm leaving these here... are you alright?"

"Yeah," you nodded, wiping your tears aimlessly. "Is someone gonna come grab me for dinner or are you it?"

"Oh, no, there's still less than half an hour. I'll send someone when the time comes, don't worry."

"Okay- erm, thank you," You replied and she left with a sincere not a problem.

You started washing yourself with the soap, which felt really nice. You were actually going to smell nice for a change. It took you around ten minutes to wash yourself whole. Although you were still hurt and sad, Maria's brief presence had unintentionally calmed you down and you convinced yourself that it was enough for one day. You now had the rest of your life set in front of you, you could practically grieve whenever you wanted, right?

You dried yourself with the towels beside the sink, wrapping your head with one of them as you got dressed. Your wrists were healed for the most part, leaving behind marks which would be the reminder of your survival, but they didn't sting anymore. Now you had to worry about your waist which surprisingly didn't hurt as much. Probably because of the proper treatment and medicine you were provided with.

The weather was cold and the day was going darker by the minute. You put on every piece of clothing that were given to you, grabbing the stuff Maria left for you off the ground and finally dropping on the bed, laying down on your back, arms spread across the mattress. You suddenly had this terrible feeling that you were going to have trouble sleeping alone at night: Back in your FEDRA days, you always shared a bunk or a room with your teammates, always slept around a fire together when you were out of the base. There was always someone with you, which made you sleep better even in your worst days. Before you came here, you didn't have your friends but you had Ellie... and Joel.

Oh how you had missed them already.

The worst part was, you almost didn't know anybody here. Tommy was the closest person you could call a friend and you didn't even want to talk about Maria. As sincere as she was, you got to know her just today. You felt uncomfortable sharing your story with her, you knew you'd feel even more uncomfortable when it came to sharing your emotions.

You didn't realise a few tears had forced their way out of your closed eyelids and down your face until there was a knock on your door.

"Uh, hello? Maria sent me to come and get you..." You heard a deep voice laced with a southern accent, which reminded you of Joel's a little but it wasn't as heavy as his.

"Yup, coming," you huffed and got up, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hands.

You were really torn between wanting to be alone and wanting company, so you decided to let other people take over.

You also grabbed Kurt's knife before you went to the door, just in case.

"Uh, hi there," The man greeted you. You felt like you'd seen him before but you weren't sure. He was tall and slender, a lot taller than you were; he had dark red, wavy hair and green eyes, freckles splattered around his face and forearms. Looking into more detail, he had a tall, turn-up nose, light facial hair and lips which reminded you of a model's - they weren't chapped and they were quite plump. His cheeks and nose were reddened, probably because of the cold but his lips had a natural redness to them.

"Hi," you sighed, taken aback. "I'm, uh, (Y/N)."

"I know. I'm Walt," He smiled softly and handed a piece of cloth over to you. "Maria told me she didn't have a jacket with a hood, that I should bring this so you could cover your hair."

It was a slouch beanie with a pompom attached to it. Your face scrunched up, you never thought you'd be wearing these and you didn't want to, but your hair was wet and you really weren't in the mood to add more to your headache.

"Uh, thank you." You muttered awkwardly and put the beanie on.

"Here," Walt reached out for the beanie, making you flinch. "It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you..." He smiled sincerely and adjusted the beanie. "Better. Shall we?"

"Let's," you sighed, not really knowing what to say to him. He was quite handsome, you were expecting someone old and grumpy to come get you, not a cute guy with-

Cute?!

Goddammit.

"It's nice to see a new face," Walt commented, putting his hands in his jean's pockets. "Maria told me you were spec ops- I never thought I'd meet another outside a QZ."

You halted and looked at him: "You're spec ops too?"

"Yup, that's why she sent me, thought maybe you'd need someone who relates to you?" Walt explained. He visibly tensed when you didn't respond: "I'm sorry, was I too forward?"

"Oh- not at all, I'm just surprised is all. Where did you come from?" You asked as you two kept walking.

"I was born in Denver, grew up and enlisted there too. I served under FEDRA in Denver for a few years before being sent to Boston... What a pain in the ass."

"Yeah, I was in Boston for- ever. I knew I'd seen you somewhere." You sniffed and tried to smile.

"Boston was hell," He groaned. "We were new and there was this team, they were looking for new recruits and I wanted to sign up, I don't know what I was thinking but..."

"Oh," you sighed loudly, looking at the ground. "I know, some stupid sonofabitch named Gabe 'bought' his way in."

"You were at the training too?" Walt asked, surprised.

"I..." You tried to speak and get over with it, but decided to take your time. "I was uh, I was the team's leader."

This time Walt stopped: "Get outta town."

"I'm serious," you gave him an apologetic smile, reaching for your knife in your pocket slowly.

"I'm- I'm sorry," he let out an awkward laugh. "I thought you were the person who picked the new recruit, I might have cursed a little too much behind your back."

This time you laughed too, relaxing: "Oh it's fine. They never really liked me at the Boston QZ, I do have a fair share of curses on my behalf."

Just when the both of you chuckled, Maria opened the door. When did you even arrive?

"Perfect timing!" She smiled. "We were just about to eat, come in."

"After you," Walt took a step behind and motioned for you to go in. You smiled and walked in, Maria sending a quick wink your way before Walt could see and you just rolled your eyes.

There was a big table and three men sat around it, Tommy across them. They were filling their plates with, by god, delicious looking food. Tommy waved at you and you smiled as the three of you sat down around the table, Maria at your right and Walt on your left.

"This is (Y/N)," Tommy introduced you. "(Y/N), these men are the leads of our patrol. I wanted you to meet them because I reckoned you might wanna do patrols, is that okay?"

"Well," you sighed. "I know a couple of more things other than how to shoot a gun, y'know."

"That so?" Tommy grinned. "If you wanna do something else, that's fine. But I still want you to get to know them. You already met Walt, but not sure if you remember him..."

Eugene Linden. Of course you remembered him.

"Eugene?" Your eyes widened.

"Hi there, commander," he tipped an invisible hat your way and smiled.

"Goddamn," you sighed with a grin and chuckled. Then, simultaneously: "Still not dead, huh?"

Eugene and Tommy were absolutely despised and were the talk of the base when you were sent to Denver for duty. You had mixed feelings toward them at first -well, you were sent to kill them after all- but not because you followed orders blindly, because of the attacks and the terror caused by them. They were reckless and they killed civilians, you weren't sure if they were the promise keeping type.

You were outnumbered and genuinely scared that you may not get to see another day (not that you wanted to anyway) so you changed tactics and surrendered. You promised them that you'd help them escape FEDRA in return of your team's and civilian safety. They kept their promise but a few months later, both of them left the Fireflies and you were sent back to Boston. You never saw either again until now.

A night went by with no stressing out over when or how you were going to be attacked. You already made 'friends' with the lead patrol men: All of them were army men, Walt being the only spec ops. You already knew Eugene and Tommy and were now acquainted with Walt and Maria. The other men, Robert and Bruce seemed to like you too; Robert was around Eugene's age, you assumed as he looked a little old but Bruce was around your age, maybe younger.

Tommy walked you back home, as much as Maria secretly tried to make Walt your escort, you didn't mind him.

"How are you liking it so far?" Tommy started as soon as you were outside and on the way back to your house.

"I- I absolutely have no words, Tommy. I can't thank you both enough, I guess I owe you one?"

"Stop with that nonsense," Tommy chuckled. "Those days are over, you're not a FEDRA puppet and I'm not a 'terrorist' anymore... Those days are behind us. Let's focus on what we have now."

"You're right," you nodded, stuffing your hands in your pockets. "It's just- I want you to know how grateful I am for the both of you... I don't deserve this, you know?"

Tommy gave you a worried look when your voice wavered a little: "'Course you do, don't say that stuff now..."

Tommy turned to you under a streetlight and held your shoulders: "You deserve this more than anyone, (Y/N). Joel told me about what happened to your team and I am truly sorry for that-" You sniffed and tried to hold back your tears to no avail. "Hey, hey, it's alright... Look, even without after everything you've gone through, you deserve this. Everyone stuck in this world survivin' does."

"But I'm the reason they're dead!" You sobbed: "If I was faster, none of them would've been captured! If I had been more careful-!"

"(Y/N)!" Tommy shook you. "None of that was your fault, you hear me? I know you think it is but it ain't. I'm sure that if they could, they'd be the ones to give you this life. You were a good leader, you treated them kindly and helped everyone out- even your enemies. I know that as much as you want to trade places with them... what's happened, happened. It's gonna take some time, but you're gonna have to come to terms with it and move on. One way or another."

"I know," you whimpered. "I know but, I never had the time to... I didn't even get to bury them. They're out there, rotting in an old building and I'm here, eating actual food and taking a bath. With a soap."

"Well, if that's what you're worrying about," Tommy dropped his hands to his sides and began walking with a grin. "I can assure you they're in a far better place right now than you could ever be, alive."

You stared at him walk away slowly and let his words sink in. He was right, they no longer had to deal with the bullshit this world had to offer anymore. They were properly resting now.

Although it was a nice first night you spent there and as much as Tommy's words left an impression on you, the moment he said goodnight and you closed your door, a feeling of uneasiness settled in you. Sitting at the table with your new neighbours itself pained you at first, reminding you of your team... Your family...

You still struggled to believe this place was real. There was actually a place for you, a place amongst lovely people who had no bad intentions toward you. There was a new life for you here, you knew you had to move on from your past one, but you also knew it wasn't just going to happen over night. There was still so much guilt in you. And, well, the attack today didn't really help your hopes for this place, you knew better than anyone that all good things come to an end.

But that didn't mean that you wouldn't fight to keep this place going as far as it could.

----

"Aw man," Ellie sighed as Joel finished explaining the basics of baseball to her. "I wonder if (Y/N) ever played it."

Joel's expression relaxed and turned into a thoughtful one. He thought about you, wondered if you were okay and how you were getting along with his brother and the others in Jackson. He was mad at himself for getting angry at you for no reason and he knew, if he ever went back to Jackson, he'd have to make it up to you.

----

Your first few weeks went by resting and helping everyone with everything as much as your wounds allowed. You were fatigued and didn't really want to talk to anyone but Tommy and Maria, who checked up on you almost twice a day when you didn't show up for too long. You were mostly in bed, either doing nothing or sleeping. You had constant headaches and refused to take medications because you didn't want them to think there was something wrong, but sometimes you'd get sick to your stomach from not eating. You lost weight in your first week and a half which didn't escape Maria. You kept complaining about how you couldn't get used to sitting in bed and doing little to nothing for hours, your sleep schedule was absolutely fucked but you also didn't have the energy to get up. You were alone by yourself most of the time which didn't help and by your second week, Maria and the lady from the nursery, Katherine, who was apparently a medic, insisted she did a check up on you.

"I'm no psychologist, but I think she's depressed." Katherine had said when you had fainted because you got up too fast after your examination. "I read a book on it some time ago and she has most of the symptoms... Someone needs to keep an eye on her- she can't stay alone. She's grieving and she's going to need help going through it."

Maria had nodded with sad eyes, uncertain about what to do and Tommy held his wife as they looked at your sleeping form. Your face was way skinnier comparing to when you first arrived in Jackson.

"She doesn't just need a companion per se," Katherine had whispered. "We, as a community have to look after each other and will look after her too, but she barely talks to anyone other than you two. She needs to be more involved with us."

Maria's brows raised: "We can sign her up to patrols with the boys for a start. I'll pair her up with Walt, they seemed to be getting along."

"Well," Tommy had sighed, hands on his hips. "We could try the school? She always had a soft spot for children, maybe it'll help distract her for the most part."

"Offer her whatever you want, but just do it." Katherine nodded worriedly. "And make her eat, for god's sake. She won't survive like this any longer."

----

"You gotta tell me what to do!" Ellie panicked as Joel's vision began fading. "Come on, you gotta get up! Joel?"

Shit, what would (Y/N) do? Joel finally heard Ellie ask herself before he let the darkness take over his pale body. Really though, what would've you done if you were with them right now?

Joel thought back to the time where he was wrapping up your wrists in that house where you all took a shower. How you didn't even flinch when he applied the alcohol and just kept calm through every situation for the whole month you all travelled together. He thought about that one time where you treated a wound on his leg. It was just a bullet which whizzed through the side of his calf, not doing much damage but it still hurt a little. You had attended to it without any complaints.

"This won't take a minute, just sit down and let me handle it," You insisted. Ellie was already passed out on the couch in the next room. "If it gets infected you're never gonna stop bitching about it. Sit. Down."

"Yes ma'am," Joel's brows furrowed at your demanding tone. He sat on the ground and extended his leg on the floor. You carefully rolled the sleeve of his pants up and cleaned the wound.

"Come now, it's over, see?" You smiled gently when he hissed, then wrapped a bandage around his calf. Joel just nodded with an almost displeased look as you got up and moved to go to the other room to check on Ellie.

"Uh, (Y/N)?" Joel turned around before you disappeared into the next room. You gave him a quizzical look by the door: "Thank you."

You just smiled at him genuinely and somewhat shyly, then walked away.

----

You got more used to your new life each day, a full month had passed but you still struggled to come to terms with yourself; but there were some improvements too. You began eating more (by your own will) and you were just a little confused at why you were surrounded by people all the time, except for when you were in your house or at the makeshift gym with a lack of tools. You had only fainted once, it had to be about that, otherwise you were way past the welcoming phase. You still thought often of Ellie... and Joel. And Felicity and others. You found yourself crying some nights, but most nights you felt numb. You missed all your companions dearly - you knew you'd be with them sooner or later.

Walt had turned out to be excellent company, although you were sure his old patrol partner Bruce wasn't entirely fond of you anymore, with you made into Walt's new partner. You usually didn't go outside the walls as there weren't too many infected in the area, but now with you guarding the walls with them, the raids started to take less of a toll on the residents of Jackson. You were liked and your presence was appreciated, something you couldn't really bring yourself to believe.

Tommy and Maria were understanding of your condition and, as much as you had insisted otherwise, they urged you to stay at their place from time to time when you weren't feeling too well. You were grateful for them and for everything they had done to make you feel better while adapting to life in Jackson.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months as Jackson developed further into an actual town. Although winter was harsh on the people, a true sense of community had settled into everyone living there. Diners and schools were built by the end of January and more shops like tailors were being built every day.

Walt and you, on the other hand, were a different story. He was so calm and cool and you couldn't help but get flustered whenever he was around. He treated you nicely, with a more welcoming manner and he was an outright gentleman. The small compliments he'd give you, the way he'd make you laugh... You weren't sure how he'd react if you opened up to him though, so you kept it to yourself.

A better developed relationship comparing to yours and Joel's, you thought. You wondered then how he was doing, if he was even alive and all that.

----

"It's okay, it's me- it's me." Joel turned Ellie around as she tried to get out of his grip. "It's me, look..."

Ellie gasped, taking in a shaky breath as Joel held her face between his hands, like that time you had an attack before reaching Jackson.

"He tried to-" Ellie sobbed, struggling to speak, then Joel pulled and pressed her shaking body against his chest.

"Oh, baby girl..." Joel whispered as he held her close, heart breaking over and over again at her state; the situation they were in reminding him of Sarah over and over again but there was nothing he could do. He had already lost one daughter and he knew, then and there, that he wasn't going to lose Ellie too.

----

With April's arrival, many pretty flowers you had never seen before (or didn't remember seeing pre-outbreak) blossomed throughout the town. Your garden was quite colourful, which brought joy to you. After the cloudy, gray winter days, you greatly appreciated the sun with occasional showers. The weather was mostly chill and windy but not like it was back in January. You had made amazing process with your health conditions - it wasn't perfect but process was still process. Walt had been of great help, talking about your past experiences and venting to each other from time to time had brought you two even closer. He was requested to look after you by Maria and Tommy, but he didn't mind and gladly did so.

Speaking of Tommy: One night while the three of you had dinner, you helped Tommy clean the dishes while Maria went out to give the leftovers to some newborn puppies. Joel was made the topic of your conversation all of a sudden and he revealed a very upsetting detail about Joel's past.

"He," Tommy began, gulping. "He used to have a daughter. Sarah."

You stopped washing the plate in your hands and gave him a look, his movements slowing down as a great set of dark clouds settled over him: "On the outbreak day, the three of us were in a car and it crashed. Sarah broke her leg, so Joel carried her. We ran but Joel and I got separated, when I reached them..."

Tommy sighed through his nose: "Sarah passed away in his arms... I'm thinking, maybe that's why he changed his mind about Ellie? He's- he won't tell you this, but I just thought you should now."

You just nodded with a worried look on your face. After finishing the dishes, Tommy went to their room while you waited on the couch in their living room. He came back with a small frame in his hands: "That's her..."

It was a picture of Joel and Sarah which appeared to be taken after a football match. They both looked so happy, your expression softened immediately and your heart broke: "How old was she?"

"Twelve, I think," Tommy nodded as you examined the picture. "She would've been a whole grownup by now."

Your eyes widened at Joel and Sarah's age gap: "He was so young when he had her..."

"High-school sweethearts," Tommy shook his head and smiled bitterly. "I had no idea what was goin' on. I was around her age when I found out my brother was gonna get married and that I was gonna be an uncle. I don't really remember those times but, Joel managed fine on his own after Sarah's mother left."

You never could've imagined this was the brothers' story before the outbreak: "You miss him, don't you?"

"Me? Miss Joel?" Tommy mocked offence as you handed the frame back to him. "Nah, never... Anyways, he could be back any day, might as well enjoy it before he becomes a pain in my ass again."

You had both laughed about it, but you knew he was worried about Joel and that he missed him. They were pretty close, although worldviews separated them, they were still brothers who cared for each other.

You had also built up the nerve to confess your feelings to Walt. Maria was great at encouragement, so with a deep breath, one night after a patrol in the woods, you knocked on his door:

"Oh, hi there Dolly," Walt smiled. He was looking rather handsome today - as if he put in extra effort to his looks. He looked like as if he was about to go out.

"Oh stop calling me that," You smiled shyly. "I sing once and suddenly I have a new name..."

"It suits you though," he smiled charmingly. "Hey, you'll never guess where I'm about to go right now."

"I'd say on a date, but-"

"Ding ding ding!" He chuckled excitedly. "You know Bonnie, right? She invited me over to her place for dinner."

You just stared, utterly dumbfounded.

"It's a little awkward, I should've been the one to ask her out, but I guess she got tired of waiting!"

She got tired of waiting and shot her shot... and succeeded.

"Oh," you nodded, quickly regaining your composure. "Uh, that's nice- when did you two even get that close?"

"Well," he closed the door to his house, making you take a step back. "You should pull your head out of work from time to time. You've been working so much, you may have missed it."

He smiled genuinely: "Anyways, I have to go now. I'm afraid I can't escort you back this time, I'm running late. You're okay though, right? I hope you didn't come all this way for something important?"

You nodded, words stuck at your throat, then he gave you a brief hug: "Alright, I'll see you tomorrow, goodnight!"

You just stood there and watched him leave, mouth agape, hopeless and disappointed.

"So?" Maria asked as you rested your chin on your hand, frowning at your plate. The both of you were having breakfast on your back yard: "How did it go?"

"He's seeing someone else," You sighed after an unnerving moment of silence and put your fork through your food.

"Oh," Maria's excited expression dropped. "Are you sure?"

"He said he was on his way to Bonnie's when I went over to his place."

You both sat in silence, your expression was soft but as much as you tried to hide it, there was a hint of sadness in your eyes. I got everything I didn't deserve after moving here, maybe I pushed my luck too much. You weren't angry, just disappointed.

"He said it himself," You chuckled. "Bonnie apparently got too tired of waiting for him to make a move, so she took matters into her own hands. I was too slow."

"Don't say that," Maria reached for your hand but didn't touch it. "How could've you known? Even I didn't notice they had a thing going on."

"It's okay," you forced a smile and took her hand in yours. "Maybe it wasn't the right time."

Maria was happy that you weren't taking it too heavily - you knew you'd have another chance. After breakfast, you both went your separate ways. Walt greeted you at the stairs which led up to the walls, your heart skipping a beat when you saw him - it was anxious skip however, you were not excited to see him.

"So," You forced a smile as you approached him. "How was your night?"

"Pretty good, thank you," he smirked as you two climbed up.

"Just pretty good? Tell me more!" You laughed. The situation was odd, but he didn't have to know.

"Well," he smiled like a teenage boy after his first ever date with his date. "We began with dinner. She had cooked the most amazing meal- You should definitely eat some too, I suggested that the three of us should have dinner sometime and she's totally down."

You flinched as you approached the notebook on the counter then wrote down your names, your back to him as you felt like jumping off the side of the wall and into a hole where the ground would swallow you whole rather than having dinner with them.

"Yeah, we'll see, I don't wanna be a burden on your new girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend, Dolly, she's-"

"Stay where you are!" You suddenly heard Cedric, one of the patrolman who's shift was over, shout.

"Hold it!" You yelled at Cedric from where you were, then immediately ran out to where he was, Walt behind you. Your heart dropped when you saw the duo who were stood by Jackson's doors.

No way.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller imagine #tlou x reader #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us x reader #tlou fanfic #the last of us

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years

Note

I was wondering if you could write a story or dabble you choose. About Chris Evans and female reader decided to go for a walk in the woods in the snow. They have been teasing each other all morning so there's a lot of sexual tension between them.

Where it goes I will leave it to you.

Cinnabuns and Hot Showers

Warning- soft fluffy and smut. All the warnings I got for you all. Also, it is what it is, so swearing somewhere because that's how I roll. Plus all errors are mine.

A/N- @mravens-corner I hope you feel better soon Babes. Much Love Always.

You were downstairs sitting at the island with a cup of coffee, scrolling through your phone when you heard Chris come down the stairs, scrambling behind him was the pitter-patter of Dodgers feet, barking excitedly at Chris to be let out. “Gimmie a second Bubba.” You heard Chris say as he turned the corner into the kitchen, his nose tilted up while grinning.

“Are those...” He trailed off and you gave a wiggle of your brows at him, smirking against the lip of your cup before setting it down.

“Cinnamon Buns? The maple ones I made last Christmas for your mom's house? It is.” you confirmed and he came into the room, to tug you off the stool with a grin.

“You are the best, you know that Honey?” His hands slid along the curve of your ass, and grasped lightly against the curve, letting his fingers dig in and his palms fill with the curve. His head dipped and he caught your lips with a teasing swipe of his tongue along your bottom lip before he pulled back. Looking over your shoulder to see a bowl of premade frosting that he dipped his fingers into, and placed to his lips to taste. “Mmmh”

“Good? I wanna taste.” You grinned while pulling him down again, this time the kiss was heavier, more playful in manner as tongues teased and slipped between parting lips. Chris groaned into the kiss and you felt flushed against him, your hands fisting in the patriot's sweater he wore.

When his head lifted, he let his thumb swipe against your bottom lip and lifted to his mouth the suck off the sweetness from the tip. “I could just eat you and the frosting.”

You chuckled while looking up at him, tilting your head slightly in a cocky way. “Oh, I know Chris. Now you better go let Dodger out. He's prancing, and I have to check those buns.”

“The ones I got feel just fine to me.” His hand still resting on your ass tightened in a teasing squeeze and you roll your eyes, pushing him back playfully and sidestepped him.

“Keep that up, you get none of my buns or my cinnabuns.” Sticking your tongue out at him, you went to check on your dessert while Chris gave a sing-song whistle to Dodger.

“Come on boy, we better get outside before Momma kicks us out of the house.” He ruffled Dodger's ears and opened the door for Dodger to burst out into the powder. Surprised, Chris hollered over his shoulder. “Babe, it snowed last night.” Retreating back to grab his jacket and shrug it on, also grabbing a pair of boots instead of sneakers, you checked the buns with a fork.

“Hence why I was in a baking mood.” You took your frosting and started to drizzle it over, using a butter knife to help spread it around when Chris held up his jacket, wiggling his brows at you.

“Come on, let's go out with Dodger, and when we come back, we can have breakfast together. They need to cool off anyways.” Dodger came back in, his bushy tail giving a wag as if saying ‘Let's go, mom, we don't got all day.’

Placing the bowl in the sink and letting the water run to soak it, you narrowed your eyes at your two boys, both as eager as the other one. “Okay, I will be right there.”

Once you were dressed, equipped with gloves hat, and a scarf to finish the ensemble, you and Chris walk along the driveway, watching as Dodger is sprinting ahead to push up the snow and dive into his piles.

Chris sweeps down to scoop up a palmful of snow, tossing it for Dodger to take off and chase, confused when there is no ball for him to return, so he came loping back good-natured, looking for another chase, anything. This time you sweep down and grab a handful of snow to toss for him which sent him flying to catch.

It was also this time you flicked some at Chris, catching in his hair, and it dripped down to catch in his lashes as he protested, sweeping his arm against his face, and catching you to shake the remaining snow on you, making you squeal in protest.

“Chhriss!” you try pulling away, but he's much stronger than you, and has you wrapped in tight. Dodger heard you both and came sprinting back to see what was going on. “you weren't supposed to get me!”

“Oh? All’s fair in love and war.” He snickered at you, and you two stumbled under heavily laden trees, their branches hanging lower than usual.

You twist into his arms, and curl up against him, huffing a bit. “When you say that you sound just like Hugh, Chris.”

He gave a laugh and reached up to slick back his hair and put on the signature Drysdale smirk. “Like this Darling? You know, you will never have anything better than a Thrombey. Also, call me Ransom. Hugh’s for the help.”

You couldn't resist yourself and leaned up to nip at his lips. “Well I did bake for you this morning, doesn't that make me part of the ‘Help’?”

Chris tilted his head, pondering your point a moment, and his blue eyes sparkled in a teasing manner back at you, his lips overly pink as well as the tops of his cheeks. At this moment he looked exactly like his Knives Out character. “That’s right you did.” He pulled in closer, sliding a chilled hand along the back of your neck, and cupped it so you couldn't move away. “Guess that means you have to serve me, Kitten. Still got that little outfit?”

You hum as you grin. “Maybe, but Harlan doesn't require outfits, Hugh.”

Chris opens his mouth, just about to say something when the branches above the two of you let loose, dumping a whole mess of snow over the both of you, which surprises both of you, simultaneously yelling. “holy shit!” “Son of a Bitch!” Both of you running out from the snow and brushing it off, making you shiver as it went down the back of your jacket and Chris shaking his out to scatter the snow out from his.

Dodger, who was safe from the falling snow just sat there watching his people shake out their clothing and clasp their arms around themselves. “Back home Chris? Cause I'm freezing.”

“Yes! we can warm each other up.” He took your hand and started sprinting back to the house with Dodger chasing after them, and you laugh as you both raced up the stairs, bursting into the house to shed out of the cold wet clothes. Soon a pile of wet clothes stood at the door, and Chris chased you running away up the stairs. You sprang into the bedroom, shedding your bra while running into the bathroom, Chris was right behind you, pausing to yank off socks.

In the bathroom you are quick to turn on the hot water, trying to find that happy hot and cold mix. Chris is behind you pulling off his socks, while you slip out of your panties, wriggling your ass back and forth at him in a tease, making him stumble slightly. “Fucking christ Y/N” He just about growls out while your jumping in the shower. He is right behind you, backing you up to the wall, and kissing you hungrily, pressing his chest into your breasts. Your shivers quickly turn to ones of lust and your panting against his mouth as his hands grasp the back of your thighs, easily lifting you to press his cock against your entrance, making you hiss with satisfaction at the burn.

“Fuck just like that.” You moan, and you arch to sink further on him, grinding your clit against his pelvis when he gives a thrust, groaning himself feeling you so welcoming warm and fluttering around him. He moves faster, burying himself into your welcoming warmth and your mouth cant stay off his neck, his ear that you bite wickedly before your whimpering his name.

“That's right Pretty Girl, say it again.” He grunts while leaving his mark on your neck, just behind your ear that has you clenching around him, your thighs quivering while you're tightening around him, and your head tips back, saying his name again with more urgency while his thrusts speed up. His hands dig into your hips to keep them pinned against the wall, and his hard kisses are flowing down till he is lapping water off the top of your breasts, burying his face in them while you're bouncing up and down when you felt your orgasm wash over your in prickling stinging pleasure locking you around him and the air being punched from your lungs, leaving spots sparking behind closed eyelids.

Chris didn't slow down, he pushed you through your orgasm, your nails scratching down his back to dig into hold on, and his movements became a demand for you to be ready for him. He came with a shudder, pumping himself slower into you to push his release into the brink, fill you up with nothing but him to dampen your thighs. He reached over to turn off the water, your forehead pressed to his shoulder to try and catch your breath.

Steady hands rubbed along your hips and along your thighs wrapped around his waist. “Ready for me to set you down?” He asked and which you nodded, hissing as you felt his softening cock ease from you, and the balls of your feet touch down on the shower floor. Once he was sure you were steady on your feet, Chris stepped out to grab the towels and handed one to you while drying himself off in the process.

You wrung out your hair and stepped out to grab a robe, slipping it on. Chris went into the bedroom and slipped on grey sweats and a tee shirt this time, when you made your way out of the bathroom, picking up the wet clothing and place it into the basket. “I cant wait to see what we left downstairs.” You laugh and Chris winks.

“How about I get those into the dryer and you can heat us up some coffee to go with those cinnamon buns?”

“Deal!” You are quick to take it, he grabbed a laundry basket and you both went back down the stairs to find Dodger sound asleep in his bed, and a scattering of your clothes leading from the front door to the stairs.

“We didnt have any other plans today, did we?” You ask while Chris is busy gathering stuff to put into the basket.

“Mmhh, I have a video conference later this morning, but rest of the day is free.” He shrugs while setting the now full basket on the counter while your busy at the coffee pot.

“Good, because we should do that again this afternoon.” Your teeth tug at your lip, adding for good measure. “Because I do still have that outfit you were asking about before.”

Hearing that made Chris groan.

#amber answers #sweater writes #amber writes #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans rpf #chris evans smut #soft #winter writing #he makes me fucking soft

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fallen-angel-92 · 3 years

Text

Caged Within

Chapter one: The Lonely Bird

Warnings: Cussing, foul language

Rating: Mature

A/N: Hello. I wanted to do a therapy fic that would help me through my rough patches in life and so this fic was born. I also would like to thank my friend, Ash, for editing and looking over this fic for me. I would also like to thank @tilltheendwilliwrite and @teejaywyatt1 for their wonderful support.

Summary: Serenity Ross, a woman known for her lone wolf nature and her inability to find a date due to her body type. After being stood up for the tenth time since moving to Mill Neck. However, a single phone call will cause her to face demons that were long since buried.

“Where does the darkness end, and the light begin? In that regard I may never know, for my days were always dark.” - unknown.

It was a normal morning; the sun rose over the horizon, a lone woman sat upon her back porch, dark brown eyes staring blankly at the sun. The dark bags underneath her eyes, showing the sun that she has not slept well. Lifting her right hand, she pushes her glasses back up over her eyes and in their proper place. As she removed her hand from her face, her eyes glanced at the long sleeves and her dry chubby hands. She stared at them for a moment, before she suddenly heard her cell phone ringing. Letting out a small sigh, she stood up, walking up the step she was originally sitting on and re-entered her home.

Closing the door behind her, she silently made her way back into the house, her bare feet making no noise as she walked across the wooden flooring. Upon the table she could see the name:

Crystal

She frowned, knowing that she would want to know how last night went, clenching her eyes shut as she picked up the phone off the table and pressed the answer button.

“Hello.” She tiredly spoke into the phone.

“Serenity! Girl, how did last night go!? Wasn’t’ he a looker?” She started speaking excitingly through the phone.

Serenity reached the phone away from her ear as she walked over to the nearby table and sat down on it. The chair scraped against the floor slightly, causing a loud enough noise for Crystal to go silent. As soon as Serenity placed her weight upon the chair, she solemnly spoke,

“He didn’t show…”

“What the fuck!? What the hell you mean he didn’t show!? That son of a bitch! I’m gonna fucking knock his ass out-” Crystal began to speak angrily, however, Serenity spoke again with a defeated tone,

“Crystal… It’s fine. I knew this would happen, anyway. I seem to attract the wrong type of men…” Serenity stated as she looked down at the grooves within her wooden table.

“Serenity-” Crystal spoke again, however, she was cut off once more by the sound of beeping on her end of the phone.

“This asshole… I’ll call you back, home girl. I am about to go fucking Madea on this mutha fucka.”

Serenity simply shook her head as she responded, “Don’t worry. You know if I don’t answer it’s probably because I went back to sleep.”

“Alright, Serenity. I’ll talk to you later. Love ya.” Crystal spoke calmly before hanging up.

Serenity simply took the phone away from her ear, placing it down onto the table, and looked at the time. Sighing, as she slowly got up from her seat and walked into the kitchen that was connected to the dining room. Serenity didn’t make it far as her phone rang again. Looking over her shoulder, she closed her eyes for a moment and quickly went back over to her phone to see who was calling her,

POPS

Serenity quickly picked up the phone answering and put her phone on speaker as she firefly spoke.

“Hello pops.”

“Hey Sweetheart. You alright? You sound tired?” Her father’s deep, gruff voice asked with a hint of worry.

Serenity placed the phone upon the counter next to the stove as she walked around the kitchen aimlessly looking for food as she replied,

“Yes, sir. I am tired… Didn’t sleep well last night…”

“Nightmares? Or that lousy date the Crystal set you up on?” He responded with a slight grouchy tone.

Serenity looked over the phone with a bit of amusement at her father’s tone as she replied, “Both, I suppose…”

“How lousy was the date?” Her father asked, amusement coating his voice.

“Lousy to the point he didn’t show at all-”

“What the fuck? The hell you mean he didn’t show?” Her father cut in angrily.

Serenity looked at the phone with a sad smile as she replied, trying to prevent tears from forming in her eyes, “It always happens pops. I should be used to it by now.”

“No, you fucking shouldn’t be used to it. Next time Crystal tries to set you up. Tell her to ‘fuck off.’ Obviously these men can’t handle you if they aren’t even showing up.”

“You know she is just trying to be a friend, pops.” Serenity weakly argued as she pulled out eggs, bacon and cheese and a pan so she could begin breakfast.

“Some fucking friend she is, if all the shit heads she has tried to set you up with keep fucking standing you up-”

Serenity could hear her father take a deep breath, and releasing it slowly, trying to rain in his anger before continuing on in a more calm manner.

“Sorry sweetheart, I know she’s your friend in everything, but she sucks fucking ass at trying to make you feel better by setting you up on these stupid was dates. As for your nightmare, was it the same one?”

Serenity cracked an egg in her now hot pan as she quietly replied, “Yes pops.”

She could hear her father lowly grumble, just as she opened her mouth to apologize a familiar British voice speaks up through the phone,

“Oi! Barney! Who are you talking to?”

“When the hell did it become your business on who the fuck I talk too on the phone!?” She could hear him yell back.

Serenity smiled slightly as she flipped the egg over, after puncturing the yolk, making the egg completely flat. As the egg cooked on the other side, she could hear the familiar voice of her father’s British companion speak up once again, obviously annoyed,

“What? You got some mistress or something?”

“The fuck you on, Christmas? Can’t a man talk to his daughter?”

“That Pup on the phone? Pup! When the hell are you coming to visit? Your old man sucks ass at cooking!” Another deep male accented voice chimed in.

“Fuck you, Gunnar! I have to let you go, sweetheart. Love you and I’ll call you later on today.” Her father said as he hung up the phone.

Serenity smiled sadly at the phone as she finished making her egg, cheese and bacon sandwiches. After plating her breakfast, she put the dirty dishes into the sink, opting to do them later before heading back into the dinning room and quickly ate her meal. After finishing, she returned to the kitchen to throw away her paper plate and do the little bit of dishes that were in the sink. Once they were done, Serenity dried her hands off and made her way toward the hall that led to her bedroom.

Her bedroom was a modest size, despite the gothic like architecture that went into the home. She walked over to her drawers, pulling out fresh clothes for her to wear today, as soon she made her choice of simple jeans and a loose fitting button up red long sleeve shirt. Turning to her left, she entered the doorway that led to her bathroom. Upon entering, Serenity turned on the lights before she set her clothes down onto the toilet. As she removed her shirt, her eyes caught her reflection causing her to look at. In the mirror, she could see the bags under her eyes that seemed to pop out against her caramel colored skin.

Her short black hair cut in a bob-like style only with the left side being shorter than the right. However, it was obvious by how dark it was; she needed a shower. Her chubby cheeks slightly red from the heat of the kitchen, quickly she looked away from the mirror, not wanting to look at her reflection anymore, especially the scars on her neck. Stripping the remaining clothes, removing her glasses and stepping into the shower, allowing the hot water to wash down her body. Not wanting to stay in there long, Serenity quickly washed herself and her hair before turning off the water and stepping out of the shower. Grabbing the towel that was hanging on the wall opposite of the toilet.

As soon as she was dried she quickly got dressed, not wanting to linger in the bathroom for long, and placed back on her glasses. Serenity exited the bathroom, still drying out her hair as she walked over to her bed, sitting down on her bed, leaving her towel on her head as she turned to the picture sitting on the stand next to the bed upon her nightstand. The picture was of her graduation, both she and her father were side hugging and showed happiness. However, before she could dwell anymore into the past, she could hear the familiar ringtone of her phone. Getting up, Serenity quickly makes her way back to the kitchen where she left it.

Without really looking at it, she answers with a tired, “Hello?”

“Serenity. It’s good to hear from you. I trust you have been well?” The familiar male accented voice spoke calmly.

Instantly she could feel a headache coming on and she let out a quiet sigh as she responded, “To what do I owe your call, Han?”

“I need your help. Meet me at the Continental in the bar area. We will speak then.” Han stated before hanging up, leaving Serenity agitated.

She quickly removed the towel from her hair, quickly reentering her room throwing the towel upon the bed and moving toward her longer dresser grabbing the brush off the top of it. After brushing her hair back, she pulled out some socks from the middle drawer, putting them on, and then proceeded toward the bathroom to brush her teeth. After leaving her bathroom and her room, Serenity makes her way toward the front door and puts on her boots that were sitting near the door. Upon the coat rack, she grabbed her black leather jacket. Upon the back was the stitching of her family.

It was of a simple skull, with a single raven sitting on the top, and underneath it was a red ribbon, upon which it read Expendables. Smiling slightly, Serenity put it on, making sure her wallet and keys were still in the pockets. When she felt them, she quickly took out the keys and left the house, locking it up. Walking over to the driveway, she made her way toward her Harley-Davidson Street 750 motorcycle. Straddling it, Serenity started it up, sitting down upon the seat she quickly took off allowing the wind to dry her hair as she sped toward the one place she hated going to more than anything. The Continental Hotel.

#john wick #oc #slow burn #romance #angst #tw depressing stuff #barney ross #action #tw cussing #chubby oc #the expendables #red 2 #han cho bai #others ocs

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platypanthewriter · 4 years

Text

No Expectations

Just an idea that wouldn’t git, so I wrote it. Maybe it’ll leave me alone?

Steve’s eye caught on the new guy tending bar at Harvey’s, and he nearly broke his nose dropping the pint glass into his face. Billy Hargrove wasn’t the very last person he’d expected to run into trying to get another round, he thought—Hitler might might have been more surprising, or Ronald Reagan—but he stared all the same, until Billy looked up and grinned.

“Seen a ghost, Harrington?” he asked, and Steve felt like an idiot for wanting to nod—he knew Max’s brother had made it out of Starcourt Mall, and into intensive care, and then weeks of physical therapy—they’d all taken turns as moral support, helping her pick out awful presents.

Steve swallowed. “Max said you left. ‘Cause your dad’s an asshole.”

“Don’t forget monsters,” Billy grunted, pouring shots with a spin of his wrist, and sliding them across the counter to someone and her gang of friends. “Dunno why you all didn’t get the hell out of—”

“Why come back?!” Steve asked, not because he minded Hawkins, but because of the thick scars across Billy’s shirtless chest. He tried to remember what they’d talked about, the last time he’d taken Max, Lucas, and Dustin to sit around Billy’s bed, the day before he left.

Billy glanced at Steve’s face, then lowered his eyes to the glass he was drying. “Max needs a roommate while she gets her degree, so I’m back.”

“Oh,” Steve nodded, spinning his empty beer glass against the counter. Billy’d laughed, startling both of them, when Steve had helped him get to the bathroom, and he’d nearly fallen. He’d been heavy—and warm, from his blankets, Steve remembered—and Steve had grabbed him with both arms, asking whether he was okay. Billy had started laughing into his shoulder, muttering “shit, shit, sorry, shit,” the whole way down the hall, and left the next morning. “You didn’t say anything,” Steve told his glass, and wished he hadn’t, because it sounded childish once it was out of his mouth.

Billy paused in his plucking of mint leaves to look up. “...what did you—”

“Nothing,” Steve cut him off, looking at the boy who’d shoved him around, hit him with a plate, and nearly died trying to save Eleven. “Nothing.” He stood up to pull his coat back on, and Billy half-fell across the counter, knocking over the ketchup and pepper shaker to grab Steve’s glass.

“On the house,” he said, running to the taps, and Steve opened his mouth to tell him what he’d been drinking, then let him fill it with Bud Lite. “On the house,” Billy repeated, running back to smack it down in front of Steve, so the suds lapped over the edge. “Sorry,” he panted, grabbing it back and wiping the glass. “Here.”

“...okay,” Steve bit his lip, but sat back down, and whover was next to him slammed a fist on the counter, yelling. Billy got them drinks while Steve contemplated his free beer.

He was a third through it by the time Billy stopped in front of him again. “...so,” he said, and Steve snorted.

“You got something to say?” he volleyed back, and Billy laughed, shaking his head.

“Guess I’ll see you around,” he said, flashing a smile.

Steve tipped his head back and drained the glass, and a shot glass slid out of Billy’s hand and clattered to the floor. Steve stood on the side bars of the stool to lean over the bar, watching Billy scramble around with an arm under the cupboards. “...maybe you should learn to bartend,” he suggested, and Billy flipped him off.

“Order a real drink, Harrington—”

“Have to be up early,” Steve told him, grinning down. “Bet you get to sleep in.”

“You wanna know?” Billy pushed himself up, his back and shoulders flexing, and Steve swallowed. Billy brushed off his jeans. “I’m off in two hours,” he said. “If you…”

“What?” Steve asked, feeling strangled.

“If you want to catch up,” Billy said, shrugging, and Steve blinked.

“Um, you’ve been—Max probably told you everything.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” Billy shrugged, backing away, and Steve smacked his hands on the counter.

“No, wait, yeah, let’s—let’s catch up!” he said, too loud, and Billy laughed.

That night he sucked Steve off in the parking lot, against his station wagon, and Steve garbled “Holy shit,” and “What the hell” and “You’re so good at this” into a stream of gibberish, sinking to land on his butt on the gravel.

“...some kinda catching up,” Steve panted, his knees on either side of Billy’s.

“Mmn,” Billy leaned in, heavy against Steve’s chest, kissing up the side of his neck.

“Your place or mine?” Steve whispered, and Billy stilled, then laughed.

“Can’t get enough of me?” he asked, and Steve snorted.

The next morning, Steve got dressed, brushed his teeth, and then crawled back over the covers, kissing Billy’s shoulder and the side of his head as he laughed, curling deeper into the blankets. “You haveta work today?” Steve whispered, and Billy rolled to blink up at him.

“Mmpf?” Billy asked, squinting up. “...why?”

“I’ll be done in an hour or two,” Steve told him, letting his thumb rasp against Billy’s stubble. “Want me to bring back some food?”

Billy stared up at him for a second, then nodded. “If you want to come back here.”

“Do you have to work?” Steve asked again. “I can make myself scarce.”

“Nah, I can go again,” Billy propped himself up on his elbows. “Kick me awake later.”

“Yeah, sure,” Steve rolled his eyes, and leaned in for a kiss Billy dodged.

“Morning breath, asshole,” Billy whispered. “Hey.”

“Mmn?” Steve asked, standing on one leg to tie his shoes.

“Wait, dickbird, tell me you love me, if we’re gonna play house.”

Steve leaned on the bed again to shove his blanketed bulk, but leaned in to smack a kiss on Billy’s head. “See you later, babe, love you, g’bye,” he said dryly, and Billy rolled away, groaning into his pillow.

When he showed up later, Billy was sitting on the arm of the couch, peeling the label off a beer bottle at eleven am. “Didn’t know whether to lube up or set out the candles and tablecloth,” he said, laughing, and Steve walked around for another kiss.

“Honey, I’m home,” he told Billy, who pressed up against him, wrapping a leg around Steve’s butt. “Daydrinking without me?”

“Welcome back,” Billy whispered, grabbing Steve around the shoulders and falling back onto the couch, so they landed in a pile of limbs. “Thought maybe you stood me up.”

“In sickness and in health, right,” Steve said against the skin of Billy’s throat, and Billy grabbed him tighter.

“You’re so goddamn weird,” Billy laughed. “How long you gonna play house with the town fag?”

“What?” Steve stopped mid kiss, breathing against the buzz of Billy’s voice in his throat.

“No, nevermind,” Billy snorted. “I’ll get it when you stop returning my calls, right.”

Steve pushed himself up, doing a pushup to stare down at Billy Hargrove’s grinning face. “What? You—”

“Ssh,” Billy pulled him down again, and in the ensuing kisses, Steve forgot what he’d wanted to say.

Every so often Billy’d ask again—“How long’re we gonna play house, Harrington?” and Steve would stop to ask what that even meant, and Billy would distract him again, and demand flowers, chocolates, or a welcome-home kiss.

He didn’t even seem to know what to do with flowers, Steve realized—he just stood staring at them, until Steve rescued them back, cut off the ends, and filled the blender with water as the closest thing to a vase. For Valentine’s Day, he brought over the biggest, pinkest, sparkliest heart-shaped box he could find, and licked melted chocolate off Billy’s abs, thighs, and eventually, everywhere else. The next day, he replaced the sheets.

When Steve sped over from work and walked in on lit candles, covered dishes, and Billy pulling garlic bread out of the oven, Billy said, “Five month anniversary, right?”

Steve tried to remember what day it even was, kicking his shoes off, and Billy laughed, backing away.

“Just playing,” he said quickly. “Just playing house.”

“I like playing house,” Steve told him, sliding in his socks across the linoleum to kiss Billy’s neck where he was bent, frowning into the tinfoil. “Need to talk to you about that.”

“...thought you might,” Billy said, stopping his inspection to clench his fists against the edge of the counter. “What?”

“Kinda silly, us both having houses,” Steve said, the way he’d practiced in the mirror. He slid a hand under Billy’s shirt, stroking his thumb over Billy’s taut muscles. He felt a scar, and grabbed Billy’s hips to turn him, suddenly needing to get his face under Billy’s shirt and kiss his skin.

“What—what are you saying,” Billy asked hoarsely.

“Don’t like it when you’re not there at night,” Steve told him, looking up from where he knelt on the floor. “I roll over and there’s this cold space where you aren’t.”

“Holy shit,” Billy said, and he started laughing, but his eyes went all red and shiny, so Steve didn’t mind.

“I have a garage,” Steve said persuasively, and Billy snorted, coughing.

“That’s your offer? A garage.”

“You could wash your Camaro and the rain wouldn’t ruin the wax,” Steve tried. “And there’s no stairs. I know you hate hauling groceries up here.”

Billy just kept snickering, leaning back against the counter, and Steve bit his lip.

“Or if you like it better here,” he surrendered, and Billy laughed harder, sinking down to the floor. Steve wasn’t that attached to his house, he thought. “I would do all the dishes,” he offered, and Billy tilted to lean against him, burying his face in Steve’s neck.

“You’re bargaining with me,” he whispered, and Steve shrugged, beginning to wish he hadn’t said anything.

“You can just tell me where to shove it,” Steve forced a laugh, and it came out sharp. “We can eat.”

“I get to sleep in your bed, though, right,” Billy whispered, sniffling. “Not the garage.”

“What the hell,” Steve whispered back. “Don’t make me bite you.”

“Go ahead,” Billy laughed. “I’m yours.”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Steve told him, yanking them both to their feet, so he could slap the keys he’d made into Billy’s hand. “You want to, right?”

Billy nodded, standing there in the kitchen, holding the keys out and staring down through them. “I—I want to. I want to. Are—are you sure you…”

“What?!” Steve asked, assessing the bread—it looked fine—and sliding it onto the prepared plate.

“This—this is what you want?!” Billy asked, probably waving at himself like an asshole, and Steve kept his eyes on the precarious stack of bread, spinning to kick Billy lightly in the shin.

“Stop sounding like you’re the discount version of something,” Steve told him, sticking his tongue between his teeth as he bore the bread out to the table. “Yeah, I want to fucking play house, come play house with me. Forever.”

“That sounds kind of ominous,” Billy said, his voice shaky.

“Gonna play the hell out of this house,” Steve muttered, and Billy started laughing again, leaning against his shoulder.

“Feed me bread,” he commanded, and Steve shoved him, but pulled him back again after grabbing a slice. “Honey. Babe. Lover,” Billy whispered, and Steve shoved the bread in his mouth, feeling his face heat.

“Hurry up and eat, sweetums,” he whispered back, and Billy choked, coughing.

The first morning Steve awoke to sharing a house with Billy Hargrove, he was gone from the bed, and Steve stomped petulantly down to find him naked, in an apron, making breakfast.

He laughed until he cried.

#Harringrove #Canon divergent #platypan #Billy survived #And now it's a few years later #They meet again #Billy thinks it's a one night stand #Steve has a date! <3!#platypan fic

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anthonyed · 4 years

Note

Kissing prompts (gosh, i love em all): 45 and buckytony?

The only thing that came into my mind when I read the prompt was: 'losing you would be my villain story' trope. So remember that ficlet where Tony was scared to hug Bucky cause he won't be able to let go? Well this is from that verse. And I tried my best to execute it (don't know if I succeeded) and here it is:

idk how part of my reply got injected into the ask box but the link in there is click-able for the verse of the following story.

(from this list: Kisses exchanged as they move around, hitting the edges of tables or nearly tripping over things on the floor before making it to the sofa, or bed.)

tw: blood, violence, mentions of body mutilation (basically a decapitated head that’s all)

-//-

Bucky’s already in the cradle when he lands; still clad in armour from neck down and he heads straight to where Helen Cho stands, manning the machine.

“Talk to me.” He orders, not bothering with manners, voice still battle-strained and he’d apologize to her later, buy her a bouquet or something but for now -

“How is he?”

Cho looks ill when she smiles, mouth working around dull words; if she was going for reassurance, it sure looks terrible on her face.

“Pending on the prognosis. Multiple organ laceration; I just drained his pericardial sac and stabilised his heart -,”

Tony grabs her by the shoulders, he doesn’t want to hear what more medical words she has to throw on him. He says what he needs her to do: “Save him.”

She opens her mouth, and he can already hear bullshit coming forth, “I can’t guarantee you anything at this point. I’m doing my part, his body is doing it’s -,” she wavers, her lashes flutter and then something shifts in her.

“Mr Stark. You have to understand -,” she starts in a practiced cold tone and Tony, he cannot deal with this now.

Gauntleted fingers dig into her lab-coat clad frame, and he shakes her once before they’re quickly intercepted.

Natasha’s cool gaze is fixed on him steadily even if she’s holding onto Helen Cho, six feet away from him. There’s someone arresting his arms from behind but he doesn’t care who, doesn’t put up a fight; that’s not why he’s here.

He needs Cho to know her priority. “I don’t care what it costs.” he looks into her eyes and tells her. This is between them and they both know what he means; there’s a vial of perfected extremis in the vault behind the wall. “I need you to save him. Do you understand?”

Helen Cho blinks, comprehension dawning upon her before she suddenly looks sick; lips pressed tight like she’s holding back her words from him. Good, Tony doesn’t want to hear her preach ethical violation to him. But he keeps looking at her until she agrees; because she has to. She has to know that he needs Bucky alive. No bargains in that matter.

Finally, she nods, quickly once. “I’ll do my best.”

And Tony leaves her to it, putting all his trust on her and he doesn’t wait. He has somewhere else to be. He shakes off the hands holding him back, and it’s Steve; his voice echoes his march; a pleading cry of “Tony, don’t!”

Two hours later, he’s standing on the rubbles of what a HYDRA’s bunker used to be. The fat plop of dripping blood onto a blown out wooden plank under his feet slowly stirs him back to reality; wiping his vision off of its angry red and he computes the extent of the damage he’d done with a strange detachment.

For a minute, he stares at his right hand where the blood is dripping from; relaxed in posture, gauntlet still on, fingers fisting around a clump of hair from a decapitated head of someone whose face he recognized flashing on his HUD earlier that day. When he scanned for the bastard who fired that lethal shot.

Good, he thinks. Good riddance.

His right palm whirs, flashing warning in blue and the satisfaction from blowing that head is -

He pulls in a breath and looks skyward. Directs energy into his thrusters and he flies to another bunker.

And another.

Three days after, he plugs in the armour to charge in a shitty hotel and stares at himself in the mirror; blank face, shirtless with a bloody abdomen and a bruised shoulder.

They should have captured him long ago, he realises. He’s been going rogue all on his own, disconnected himself from the team and Rhodey and Pepper and he knows for sure that he’s breaking more law than he’d memorised twenty years ago. Somebody should have caught him; HYDRA or someone from WSC. Maybe even one of his teammates.

And yet here he is, still a free man, staining borrowed towels red from his first flesh wound since he started this vengeance streak.

Somehow, that just fuels him to keep going.

Steve finds him underground in Kazimierz and he isn’t even surprised.

“I was wondering when you’d come,” he says, ready to fight, expecting an arrest.

Steve, however, looks at him all pinched and that is even worse. Tony wants to tell him, no. Don’t show me that face. But he doesn’t have to because that look vanishes soon after and Steve nods tightly.

“If you’re doing this,” he says, “I’m coming with you.”

In retrospect, maybe Steve follows to keep him in line; if they catch someone alive, he’d say, “Let me deal,” and Tony lets him. He’d already destroyed the guy responsible, here forth if Steve wants to play saint and ease their death, he can go ahead and do it. Tony doesn’t care.

Two days later, he finds out what actually Steve wants. Catches Tony numb in the process of washing dirt and the inside of someone’s cheek - from when he’d hooked his fingers too deep - under his fingernails when Steve leans against the bathroom door and says,

“Come home, Tony.”

He turns off the tap and wipes his hands dry with a towel. There’s still something under his fingernails, unwashed, but he ignores that to ask Steve, “Is he awake?”

Steve couldn’t give him a straight answer so, Tony chucks the towel on the counter, walks past him into the room they're sharing for the night and nods at the bathroom when Steve turns to look at him. “It’s all yours now. Unless you’re leaving, then I suppose you’d prefer to shower at home.”

He tears open the bag of chips, guzzles down two bottles of water before he shoves a handful of bland chips into his mouth. He knows Steve’s still looking, but he avoids his gaze, anyway. Keeps shoving more chips into his mouth even though he’s close to choking and only when he hears the bathroom door close, he stops.

They burn the fifth centre to the ground and leave to Chukotsky District for the sixth.

They share a room in another motel that night, vodka warming their insides and Tony shares a piece of him with Steve.

“I get it now.” He tells him, eyes burning as he stares at his bare feet intensely.

“What?”

Blinking hard, he empties his plastic cup down his throat and looks up. “Why you’d kill for him,” he smirks. Not an ounce of feeling under his skin.

Steve’s eyes flicker in the dim orange light. He says, “Not for the same reason as yours, no,” and he looks like he got something more to say following that. But whatever it is, Tony doesn’t hear it.

The next morning, he wakes up to Natasha at the foot of his bed, Steve still fast asleep in his own.

She rubs a thumb on the inside of his ankle and joins them for the last bunker.

“Come home,” she says later, wiping a bloody dagger in the inside of her left sleeve, watching grey clouds burst into the white sky next to Tony and she tells him, “He’s awake, you know. Asking for you.”

He’s stuffing clothes into his duffel bag, but hesitates when he’s about to pull the zipper. Not far from him, Steve pauses in rolling his socks. Natasha offs the TV; they’re watching him - both of them - have been watching him since they returned from that bunker.

Tony’s hands shake, and he buries one in his hair. “I’m not coming,” he tells them.

“Why?” Natasha cocks her head curiously.

Steve plops heavily down on his bed. Its frame creaks. “Tony,” he begins, but Natasha’s fluid movement from the foot of his bed to Tony’s side, stops him.

Tony’s knees buckle and when he sinks, she goes down with him; leans her head on his shoulder, drapes an arm over and she fills his sense with sweet strawberry smell while Steve looks wearily from across him.

Tony keeps his eyes fixed on him, his thoughts on the sweet taste of Natasha’s scent on his tongue and he says, “He almost died because of me.”

Steve frowns, scrunching the socks into a ball in his hands, and he corrects Tony stiffly, “He took the hit for you. It was his choice.”

“Well, he shouldn’t have!” Tony yells.

Natasha’s hand is soft on his cheek when she turns him around to face her. “You would have done the same,” she murmurs, levelled and calm, close to his ear.

Steve’s jaw is clenched hard, but his words are soft. “We protect what we love, Tony.”

Blinking back hot tears, Tony looks away from both of them and grits out, “He’s an idiot.”

Steve snorts. Natasha presses a smile into his temple, and she suggests, “Maybe he’d like to hear that from you.”

Returning home after a week and a half should feel relieving but all he could think is about Bucky and the last time he saw him; bloody in his arms in Central Park and then lifeless in the cradle, and he couldn’t help the anxiety that boils from his chest to the back of his throat.

That in itself buries his desire to check on Bucky, see for himself how he’s doing; make sure he’s all right.

“I’ve got to answer Pepper,” he blurts out, already stepping away from them; separating himself, and Natasha’s frown and Steve’s disappointed gaze accompanies him all the way to the workshop where he collapses on the couch.

“How’s he doing?” He asks into the throw pillow that smells like Bucky. “Friday?”

“Sergeant Barnes is healing well, boss. Although, he’d do better if he sees you.”

Bullshit. He doesn’t tell her.

“Did Dr Cho use the extremis?” He asks instead, pulse bursting through his arteries.

When Friday says, “No, boss. There was no need for that,” he buries his head into the pillow and breathes Bucky in deeply; relief spreading like a balm under his breastbones.

“But boss,” Friday carries on, “Sergeant Barnes asked for you.”

Before she could say more about that, he promptly mutes her.

Maybe he’s a coward. Maybe he’s afraid if he sees Bucky, he’d be accused to be the cause of his near death experience.

Or maybe he’s terrified when he asks why did you do that, Bucky would look at him like he’s an idiot, and say, “Because I love you, that’s why.” and Tony -

Tony knows he couldn’t handle hearing that. His heart would shatter into a million pieces.

So, maybe he’s a coward. Maybe what he’s really afraid of is breaking his own heart - call it a primitive reaction. He is a primate in DNA after all.

“Boss, Miss Potts is asking for you.”

“Tell her I’m busy inventing something that could triple her paycheck.”

“Boss.”

“What?”

“Sergent Barn-,”

“Is he okay?”

“Yes, but he’s asking for -,”

“Mute.”

Maybe he’s running away.

And maybe he’s bad at it.

“Jesus.” he jumps, well past midnight, a few days after he’d returned, in the penthouse kitchen, in the middle of his supply raid (because Pepper pulled her rights and cut direct deliveries to the shop).

He’d calculated the risk, knew there was a 95% chance of him being caught by the very person he’s running away from. That’s why he’d planned his approach, carefully ran over it multiple times, asked Friday over and over to make sure no one was in the kitchen.

Should have counted in the fact that his AI is in love with her Sargeant Barnes.

The same Sargeant who asks calmly, “Any reasons you’ve been avoiding me?”

Tony clears his throat, drops his hand from where he’d clutched his chest. “Not in particular," he tries for nonchalance.

He didn’t turn on the light, but the silver glint of Bucky’s metal arm is unmistakable; tracing trajectory motion of his leap from the countertop to in front of Tony, infusing heat from their sudden proximity.

“I wanted to see you,” Bucky says, eerily flat, head tilted sideways as his blue-grey eyes study Tony from top to bottom then up. “But you refused.”

Throat clamping around a lump, Tony looks down at his empty coffee mug. At their bare feet and then at the cold tiles they’re standing on. He avoids the topic. “How are you doing?” He asks instead, looking up with false cheeriness.

Bucky doesn't hesitate before he answers, “Better if I’d seen you.”

And Tony has to laugh at that. Jesus Christ, just how stupidly cheesy is this guy? Except he feels his cheeks warm, and he steps aside to get away with an airy, “Well now that you have, I hope you feel better.”

Bucky doesn't let him (of course he doesn't); blocks his path and his gaze bore into Tony when their eyes meet. Trying to pry something only he knows what and Tony, exhausted after two consecutive sleepless nights, lets him.

If not for an excuse to allow himself drink in the sight of the man who took a laser to his chest for him and almost died. The man he'd lost his sanity for, killed for and then ran away from because he is a coward.

His eyes fall on the lower left side of Bucky’s pectoral. If he looks harder, he thinks he could see a dark patch seeping inside out like spreading ivy. He shakes his head to clear his vision.

Bucky seems to read him well. He takes the mug away and catches his empty hand before bringing it to his chest. Then he places it over exactly where that wound had been last week; bleeding viscous blood all over them and when Tony looks up at him, desperate and scared like he was that day, he assures, “I’m fine. Still alive.”

And then, “C’mere,” he tugs. Pulling Tony closer, pressing his palm harder over his shirt clad chest; warm where they touch, and he asks, “Can you feel that? It’s still beating in there.”

And it is - His heart is. All healed and pumping serum tainted blood through his vessels; keeping him alive like he hadn’t been gasping for breath in Tony’s lap just last week.

“Fuck.” Tony exhales.

Bucky takes it as a cue to pull him into his chest. Wraps him tight in a hug, and he buries his nose in Tony’s hair. “I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

Tony tries to inhale but ends up choking on air.

“I know.” Bucky repeats. Pressing lips to his forehead and then temple.

When he finds his voice, Tony fists the fabric overlying his left breast, head buried in warmth and he lets out a pained growl. “Don’t ever do that again.”

But Bucky, of all things, chuckles like he'd just heard a joke. “Can’t promise that, doll,” He drawls, grinning like the idiot he is. “If it happens another time, I’ll do the same thing all over again. Gotta protect my best fella,” he winks.

And it drives Tony so mad that he shoves at the man's chest and glares at him, venomous. Fingers shaking in clenched fists, locked inside white knuckles and he spits, “Fuck you.” At Bucky.

For a second, Bucky’s stunned. But something flashes in his eyes and he barks out a laugh soon after.

"Yeah," he snorts. “Kid you not, I would really like you to.”

And that - That shocks Tony into a stop; eyes blinking wide with disbelief, he stares at the man in front of him.

“What?” Bucky laughs, fingers raking through his long hair as he shakes his head and when he looks up again, whatever he sees in Tony, it makes him square up, and he exhales in a rush.

“Jesus, Tony. Don’t tell me you still don’t know how I feel about you. Choked on my blood and all I could do was look at you like you hung the moon - I saw that footage. The one they aired in the news? Sam showed me that thing, and Hell. The whole world saw how I feel for you baby, and you’re standing here looking at me like you got no clue."

He closes in then, urgent, and he catches Tony’s head in both hands; cradles his face like something precious and leans down to look into Tony's eyes.

“You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart," he pleads. “Tell me you know how you make me feel. Tell me you know, I’m yours.”

And Tony, refusing to be shaken in the face of hopeful eyes and gentle hands - one ice cold while the other blood warm - grabs the back of Bucky’s head in a harsh fist and asks him roughly, “And you? Do you know how I feel about you?”

Bucky blinks then, a slow smile spreads across his face, eyes twinkling with sadistic joy and he grins, “Stevie told me what you did. Said you didn’t spare even one.”

“All of them,” Tony breathes, lungs blooming fresh with the smell of Bucky this close, this warm and he could taste his scent on his tongue with every breath he takes.

Shivering, he glides his hand from Bucky's nape to the side of his neck, and he yanks him close until their foreheads press. “They can’t touch you now," he whispers into the small space in between them.

“Jesus, doll.” Bucky chuckles, dry and rough, palms pressing into Tony’s cheek, tilting his face up so their breaths intermingle and their noses bump, and the first brush of their skin that near is electrifying. Like stepping on a live wire; sizzling straight into the veins under their skins and it propels them to mash their mouths together in a desperate kiss.

Giddy as they are with something vile and raw, they didn't care if their teeth clashed in the rush; painful and sharp, or if their kisses were too messy and wet. Their heads are too heady with the taste of their love and they feed it into each other’s mouths, drink it out of them and fuck - They laugh through it all.

At one point, Tony yanks at Bucky's hair and hums, pressing harder in and Bucky presses equally hard in return. Neither wanting to give; only take, take and take until there’s nothing left and then more.

And they're greedy for contact, starving for each other. Trembling with wants so violent that it bursts through their pores; spilling like white hot lava, burning everywhere their skin touch and maybe they knock several furniture over -Tony doesn’t know for sure.

He’s too busy getting lost in Bucky and the biting way he kisses, the unforgiving way he squeezes Tony’s ass. Too busy pulling him by the collar, fingers fisting in his hair as he nips back harder, hissing and groaning ‘bedroom’ into Bucky’s mouth, and ‘this way’ as they stumble across the living room, stubbing toes on coffee tables and chairs, stopping to wince and laugh before resuming kissing even more passionately than before.

Eventually, after they knock over a vase and watch it break into thousand pieces, Bucky hoists him up and walks them to the bed, and it may be emasculating if he was in a different state of mind. But right then, head spinning from Bucky and only Bucky everywhere, Tony lets him have it.

Later, he watches the sun spill over Bucky’s closed eyes, spread from his sleep-slack face to his naked torso and sheet tangled legs and he reaches out a hand to press it over Bucky’s left pectoral.

Focuses in on the steady beat behind the ribs, listens to the sound of Bucky’s heart work its job; pumping life into his bones and eyes, and spreading pink to his lips and occasionally - like last night - blotting that lovely shade of red from his face to his neck and -

It’s staggering how close he’d come to lose that; how close Tony had come to lose his mind with that.

Hours earlier, with kiss-swollen lips and sex mussed hair, Bucky had kissed every one of his fingertip and whispered, “Turned you into a murderer didn’t I?”

Tony had combed his falling fringe back with his free hand and easily admitted that, “Losing you would evidently serve to be my villain story. No doubt in that.”

Right now though, feeling Bucky more than alive under his palm, Tony tips his slack jaw close and kisses him good morning.

#*fingers crossed* hope you like it #buckytony #winteriron #mine #prompts #i really enjoyed writing this and it may be vain to say i love this but fuck it idc

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