#A small thing a quiet movement of the lips almost lost in the sea air | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

icarustypicalfall · 7 months

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midnights

johnny soap mactavish x f!reader

summary: soft gazes, small talk, secrets spilled under breaths between stations, is this his idea of fun?

note: sorry for the inaccuracy, i don't speak the Scottish Gaelic, neither been to Scotland. love soap though <3

warnings: sfw, fluff, no yn just you, kinda funny, kinda awkward, litterly my mind is empty for renting.

"but i think i am falling so what can i do?"

23:30 pm

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted as the final train arrived at the station. Your feet throbbed from standing, though you could have sat down. Glancing back at the plastic seating which didn't appear any less unclean or discomforting.

Swiftly, you secured a seat near the front of the train, close to the conductor's cabin.

You didn't own a car, you struggled to secure employment and housing in this foreign city. Lately, your life seemed dull, and this realization hit you with great force—were these the overhyped twenties?

Escaping a toxic household was a good thing, you left your hometown, starting a new life somewhere in Scotland. Relying solely on yourself, you faced myriad challenges, working tirelessly day and night, sacrificing sleep for brief naps during college breaks. Amidst this sea of responsibilities, your social life withered away. Night shifts at the mall, traversing college hallways by day—you embraced this life fearlessly. Despite the exhaustion, you cherished every moment.

The train resumed its motion, the slow yet rapid movement causing you to stumble slightly as you made your way towards the front. This was your sole means of transportation, and you had memorized which spots were worth fighting for and which ones to avoid like the plague.

23:35 pm

As you entered the cabin, a sense of relief washed over you; it was nearly empty. Although this did not always bode well, you refrained from complaining, grateful for the chance to sit during the 45-minute journey back home.

At this ungodly hour, the train car was considered vacant. A woman, a typical "Karen" in her mid-thirties, appeared disgusted by everything, casting a disdainful glare your way. Two mumbling teenagers, an elderly homeless individual, and... a man.

This man was unlike the usual commuters you encountered on your journey home. He seemed out of place yet strangely familiar amidst the others. Wearing a military uniform and sporting a unique mohawk haircut, its ends loosely falling onto his forehead.

The man's head snapped up as you stepped onto the platform. His eyes locked with yours for a moment, his lips curling into a tired yet awkward smile. Sensing your arrival, he moved his large gym bag from the seat beside him, as if he knew you would choose him as your travel companion on the way back home.

Whispering a quiet thank you, you collapsed onto the seat while checking your bag. You were well aware of the cunningness of thieves, having once had your ice cream snatched from your very hands.

Discreetly, the man stole a glance at you, that awkward smile still lingering on his chapped lips. Neither of you knew what to say or do, and the silence hung heavily in the air. Engaging in conversation seemed tempting, yet the weight of the silence prevailed. You preferred it that way, not wanting to embarrass yourself with ill-chosen words, especially in the presence of a military man—one who happened to be rather attractive.

23:42 pm

You checked your phone, scowling slightly. Only seven minutes had elapsed? It felt as though a decade had passed while both you and the stranger coughed and fidgeted in your seats, unable to shake off the peculiar sensation in your chests.

It was warm, almost tempting. And, for the very first time, you got courageous, opting for the somewhat risky choice; you decided to sleep.

Your head felt slightly dizzy, lost in a whirlwind of thoughts as you observed the flickering light bulb in one of the train cars.

00:09 pm

"Hey... Bonnie? Wake up! We're almost there," a soft voice laced with a Scottish accent murmured into your ear, jolting your eyes open.

The man with the mohawk cut smiled at you, whispering something in Scottish Gaelic that eluded your comprehension. Still groggy from your impromptued nap, you found yourself captivated by his bright eyes, paying little attention to his words.

The man seemed to invade your personal space as he continued to babble, yet you felt no offense. It was then that you realized you had slept through the entire ride, your head carelessly resting on his shoulder.

You quickly recoiled, straightening your posture and murmuring a wave of apologies while avoiding his gaze, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

The man stared at you as though you had sprouted a second head. Expecting the worst—insults or annoyed glares, as most people would respond—you were taken aback when he burst into laughter.

"No need to apologize, lass. Ya look like you've been through the wringer. Hope my shoulder was comfortable, eh?"

You nodded, slightly perplexed. Despite living in this Scottish town for two years, you had never quite grasped the local accent.

"My name is Johnny, but they call me Soap," he introduced himself.

"Soap? Like the dove bar?" you mumbled, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckled and patted your head, underestimating his own strength in an endearing gesture that almost squeezed your skull. It seemed as though he was used to roughhousing with his military comrades rather than interacting with civilians.

"Quite funny, lassie. Truly... What might be your name? I haven't seen this face around before," he asked with a nod of curiosity.

The man, Soap, appeared to be either having an unmedicated ADHD case, under the influence, or simply a huge ray of grins and laughter. He acknowledged your name with a wide smile before whispering.

"Would you be interested in joining a military task, lassie?"

Your horrified expression seemed to amuse him greatly, as he continued to laugh heartily and slap his knee until the train reached its final destination.

"Just kidding, don't worry, lassie."

You nodded, rising from your seat as the doors swung open. Soap swiftly stood up, effortlessly hoisting his hefty gym bag onto his shoulder while grinning at you. He casually rested an arm on your shoulder, displaying an unexpected amount of affection and energy.

00:23 pm

Stepping out of the station, Soap let out a loud yawn, pushing his mohawk back before beaming at you. Were his cheeks blushing, or were you now hallucinating?

"Well, lassie, it's unsafe to walk alone at this hour. Mind if I accompany you home?" he asked, his shyness suddenly evident.

You smiled and nodded, appreciating the sense of security he provided. It was remarkable how at ease he made you feel, as if the two of you shared an unspoken understanding. Feeling emboldened, you intertwine your arms and began the walk home together.

Soap seemed thrilled, almost bouncing with excitement as he walked beside you, rambling on in his cheerful manner. He patted stray dogs, laughed boisterously, shared tidbits about his Captain, and even vented about a certain Phillip Graves.

You struggled to follow the intricacies of military life, but decided not to mention your confusion, content with observing how passionately he spoke about his hometown, his upcoming vacation and his family.

01:00 am

You arrived at your home, settling on the doorstep to catch your breath. Soap gazed in awe at you before plopping down beside you, accidentally jostling your feet with his bag which he tossed carelessly on the floor. He sighed, looking up at the dark sky with a contented smile.

"You know, Bonnie, this has been quite an fun night for me. It's been a while since I've met a charming lassie like you," he confessed.

A blush crept onto your cheeks as you returned his smile.

"I'd love to see you again. Perhaps I can show you around... if you'd like?" he added, restraining himself from sharing that he had developed a small crush on you, finally finding someone with whom he could share countless stories and laughter on their doorsteps.

You, too, wrestled with the fluttering feeling in your stomach gently nodded in agreement.

Soap beamed with relief, looking at you intently, his eyes sparkling.

"Can I sleep over? My mom prolly waiting for me with a flip flop at home. I forgot to tell her about breaking grandma's vase before my deployment..."

note: if there is any timeline faults or granmar, ignore it or tell me in the comments, im 2 tired to reread 🫶🏻

(this was pretty longer than the usual, kinda hate it cuz i made the reader a stone with no actions.. sorry for my soap fans next time will be better, m quite exhausted from the week 😭 gonna try to write for rudy tmr morning 💗)

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lostinlewis · 1 year

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Rendevousz ~ Part Two

Rating: M

Words: 2470

It was only when you were truly alone with him once more, without the safety blanket that was your friends a few metres away, that you felt your stomach flutter with butterflies spawned from a wicked mix of nerves and delirium.

Nighttime had now truly fallen, and the only light that allowed you to see the man sitting in front of you on the deck, was the tea lights that the top deck had been decorated with. It was so very peaceful, the sea itself and the silence it allowed you both to be surrounded by, there was nothing he could say or do that would make you miss the moments you spent together more than this; there was a comfort in the silence, a comfort only felt with Lewis.

Lewis stared out into the water as if lost in a riptide of his own thoughts, whilst you did the same, except you couldn’t help but sneak subtle glances in his direction as you felt it quite the dream that he was once again in front of you, yet somehow in the months that had passed by in his absence, he was even more beautiful.

“You know, you would probably get a better view if you sat a little closer.”

His voice startled you as it broke the quiet air, with an almost instantaneous rush, you felt your face flush with embarrassment at being caught looking at him.

“I don’t know what you mean, Lewis.”

You played it coy, a performance worthy of an Oscar if you did say so yourself; it was surprising how easy it was to pretend when you could face the ocean instead of the man who was the cause of your bashfulness.

“I saw you look at me, three times. Come over here.”

Lewis made his lap all the more inviting, spreading his thighs out wider, his arms to match, and for a moment you hesitated, before finally giving in to the reason you had stayed on the boat with him; you wanted him.

He caught your hand the first moment he could, intertwining his fingers in yours mid air as he guided you down to perch on his leg, bringing the other arm around your thigh so he could rest his hand on your bare skin; a feeling you hadn’t felt for quite some time.

“It’s so beautiful here, Lewis. I’m surprised you ever leave.”

“I don’t normally see it, I guess I kind of got used to it…but I see it tonight though, I’m surrounded by it.”

Lewis always knew exactly what to say, his way with words always left you in awe, despite his insistence that he was the exact opposite; his modesty towards something that came as such a natural gift, always lingered in your heart with fondness.

“Do I still make you blush when I compliment you?”

He didn’t allow for your gaze to fall in embarrassment for too long, catching your chin with his finger, he made sure you could see him as he asked.

“Lewis, stop…”

“Stop what? Telling you that you’re beautiful, or the thing that my hand is doing on your thigh?”

Time stood still as he kept you in a hypnotic state with the intensity of his eye contact whilst his fingers teased further up your thigh, until they had nowhere left to go, resting in the crease between your thigh and your hip; Lewis’ favourite part of you, or so he always told you.

Your lips brushed together in an almost kiss, and you could not help but grind down on his thigh, Lewis knew what that meant, he knew exactly what you needed.

“I’m going to make you feel so good, pretty girl.”

His hand ran up the side of your neck, cupping your face as if his intention was to make you feel small in his grasp; it worked.

With relative ease, Lewis pulled your leg around him so you straddled him now. His hands ran down your back slowly as your tongues found each other like long lost friends, before his hands found their most favourite of all resting places, your ass.

It was impossible to tell who initiated the synchronised movements that you quickly found yourself in, rolling your hips whilst he guided you as he squeezed your cheeks, pausing only when you found yourself letting out soft moans with even the smallest of contact.

The smile on his lips could be mistaken for pride, but you knew that he only wore that specific brand of smile when his mind was racing with the wildest of thoughts, when he had to pace himself and when he knew he had you exactly where he needed you.

The hand that rested on one of your cheeks quickly found its way underneath, moving between your bodies as he found your centre as if drawn to it by the heat that radiated off of it.

“So very wet.”

Lewis mused in the laziest of voices, as he moved your panties to the side with ease, the pad of his middle finger teasing in between your folds just as much as the position allowed before placing it inside of you, to which you could only gasp in response.

The thickness of his finger was in no way a replacement for the true thickness he held restrained behind his clothing for the moment, but still the many nights you had spent together flashed through your mind as if every time his finger hit your spot, you were being teased with the wonders of everything he was capable of doing to you.

“I’ve missed this…I’ve missed having you purring on my lap as I fuck you.”

Lewis knew you were not in a state to converse with him, that wasn’t what mattered, whilst you responded with a moan, he responded with words that told you all the ways he wanted you.

The cool air hit your exposed sensitivity as you suddenly felt how wet you really were once he removed his finger, bringing his hand up to space in between your faces, his digit glistening with your pleasure.

Your lips parted in anticipation, a sudden rush of adrenaline ran through you as there was nothing you enjoyed more than sucking on his finger, but instead he placed it inside his own mouth, tasting every last drop of you.

“Still just as sweet as I remember.”

His eyes darted all over your face, reading your pout as if he was torn by his constant need to give you exactly what you needed whilst at the same time giving in to his selfish urge for the taste of you.

“Oh does the pretty girl need something to make her smile?”

Lewis fumbled with his clothes, an expert at being able to free himself within a second, before you felt the smack of his dick against your core.

It was so instinctive the way that you rocked on him, coating his dick in the very same juices he had teased out of you only seconds before.

He held the side of your face as he lowered you back down to his lips, taking an extra second to suck on your bottom lip as you parted once more, holding your face an inch away from his.

“Fuck me, baby. I need you to fuck me.”

His voice so hoarse with desire now as he commanded you, but his words so beautifully raw with emotion you felt yourself tingle before you sat up a little higher, lowering yourself slowly down on the man that impaled you with the greatest satisfaction.

Beautifully tattooed fingers held your hips so tightly, the kindest eyes watching your face with intent as he adored the way you struggled to keep your composure as he filled you to the brim.

“Fuck…me.”

Lewis whispered two little words with so much aggression behind them, spawning from his inability to hold back, to stop himself from picking you up and taking you against the side of the boat, whilst wanting you to have the control more than anything.

The once silent air was fast filled with the sounds of your skin slapping down against his as you rode him harder than you ever had before, and the sweet squelching noise you made as he met your wetness over and over again.

Lewis made sure to keep a tight hold on your hips, his only semblance of control as you fucked him through the intense burn of your thighs. It felt so good, of course it did, but the very best part about riding Lewis was always watching him fall apart at your doing.

Knowing your body, more specifically your pussy, was the very reason he could barely keep his eyes open, was the reason for the way he kept throwing his head back, overwhelmed by a pleasure he couldn’t control, knowing that with every bounce on him you made it harder and harder for him to hold back the moans escaping his lips, fueled the ever burning desire within you to really make sure you forever stayed his favourite; no matter the distance.

“Easy now…you’re going to make me cum so fast if you keep doing that.”

Lewis’ gravel filled voice was softer now, gentle with the vulnerability you rode out of him, as he begged you for mercy, and for a moment you considered ignoring it completely; the want to have him fall to pieces under you was so strong.

“Just like that, slow…slow…use me, use me for your pleasure only baby, use me to make you cum.”

You listened so intently as his hands moved to cup your face first, a thumb stroking under each eye tenderly, before one settled on your lower stomach, the other cupping your breast to match.

“That’s it, baby…that feels good, doesn’t it?”

“So…so good.”

You threw your head back now as you rolled your hips, a move easier on your thighs, but more intense in pleasure; it was so difficult to concentrate on anything at this very second.

Lewis pressed down on your lower stomach, at the same time that he hit you from the inside too, the moan you let out rang through the air; the captain of the boat, despite being three floors down, most definitely heard it.

“I know it feels intense but trust me, let me help you feel good.”

Like this was your very first time, Lewis helped lead you to an orgasm more potent than one you had ever known, even with him. The moment he felt you unable to physically rock on him anymore, so strong was your undoing, he helped you in every way he could, just to make sure your high lasted for as long as possible.

“Good girl…good girl…there you go.”

The second it was over, the second your body could no longer sit up straight, you fell forward to him, whimpering and shaking, so completely overwhelmed by it all. Lewis soothed you through it with the softest kisses on your face, humming into your ear as he slowly stroked up into you.

So intune to your body, he knew the very second you could take more again, and began fucking up into you faster now, hitting harder than before. His hands brought your face up off his shoulder where you rested so you were forced to look at him, as best you could in your weary state, whilst he pounded into you.

“So fucking good to me…I swear, you’re my favourite.”

Words that would annoy any other, he knew he could say them to you, it made sense for your situation and the smile, the lazy eyes almost closed, smile on your face as you heard them, told him that those words made you feel exactly what he wanted them to do.

“I’m so close now…I promise, I’ll make you cum again soon, just let me have this one.”

Lewis didn’t need to bargain with you, if it were up to you, his pleasure would be all you focused on ever, but he did so because your pleasure was normally all he cared for. Not in this state though, not moments after he felt you orgasm around him whilst he struggled to hold back through it, not as he pounded up into you, into the pussy he had craved every day since he last had it; this very moment was the most selfish he had ever been.

He guided you back up into a seating position, one hand on your hip, the other teased the base of your neck before gracing first your lips with his fingers, next your tongue. The lazy smile filled your face once more, and he knew you were happy, being able to suckle on his fingers always did that to you.

It took no more than a few strokes to finish him off, he was loud as he released, hissing curse words and groaning in the most animalistic of tones, you felt every little drop squirt out of him before you did something you had only done once before then.

Jumping off of him so quickly he had no time to react, you fell to your knees in front of him, taking him in your mouth as you sucked off the mixture of both your juices, needing to taste his pleasure more than anything; hearing him whimper in overstimulation was only a bonus.

“Shit, I can’t take it…”

Lewis pleaded for mercy as he leant forward, guiding you with a cupped cheek back up to his face so he could kiss you.

“How did I ever let you disappear? I must have been crazy.”

You found your seat back in his lap now, both of you dishevelled, both of you breathing heavily but finding peace with the closeness of your bodies.

“You were crazy, but so was I…”

Your fingers played with the pearl necklace he wore around his neck as he gently rocked you to soothe himself, as much as it was to soothe you.

“How about we forget about whatever made us lose this and we start again? I have a race in Baku this coming weekend, I could use some company…”

“Hmm, I’ll have to check my diary…”

You teased him with another one of your Oscar worthy performances, you thought you had covered up your elation at the invite quite well, until he turned the teasing on you instead.

“I guess if you are busy, I can always find someone else to help me christen my new motorhome at the track.”

Never had Lewis broken one of your pretences faster than that moment, you shot up in his lap to really look at him now, your brow furrowed in annoyance.

“You could do that, but they’ll have nothing on me…I’m your favourite, remember?”

#Lewis #ex #rendezvous

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merakiui · 3 years

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A Leaf Swept up in an Autumnal Breeze

yandere!kaedehara kazuha x (gender neutral) reader art credit - Tourou_7 on twt cw: yandere, unhealthy/obsessive behaviors, slight nsfw implications/thoughts, alcohol consumption, intoxication, spoilers for kazuha’s character story + inazuma lore note - i decided to write something short for kazuha as i analyze what we know so far of his character. hopefully the characterization isn’t too off! please enjoy nonetheless! orz

The moonlight casts its thin rays upon the calm, motionless sea. In the distance, fish surface and their movements are captured in the ripples that expand in the water, a minor blip in the otherwise tranquil atmosphere of the dark night. As if a god has taken a brush to the sky, utilizing its inky vastness as a canvas, the stars have been drawn in small specks—winking down at those who sleep underneath a blanket of natural light.

And you are caught up in the glorious shimmer, grinning widely as Beidou wraps her arm around you, pulling you against her as if the two of you have known each other for years. In reality, it’s only been a few months since you were discovered on her ship: a hidden stowaway with your Vision clutched in your hands and raw resolve etched into your body in the form of bruises and old scars. You’re a fighter and yet you also ran from something. Kazuha can’t quite tell what it is you’ve escaped. Whether it’s another person, a group of people, or even an entire nation, he’s certain it’s worthy of the risks that come with fleeing.

Your Vision shines brightly, a stark contrast to the dark color scheme of your clothes. He tries to place a nation to your outfit and comes up empty, his thoughts returning to Inazuma as though it’s the only place he can think of. And he supposes that’s true. The situation in Inazuma has clouded his mind with its strange fog, taking up residence in the nooks and crannies of his brain. Though he can dwell upon the past and the mistakes that led up to the downfall of a precious friend, he knows there is no use for such somber reflections during a happy celebration. Life moves on, as the common saying goes, and he cannot allow himself to remain trapped in the past.

During moments such as these, where he relives the horrible memory in vivid detail, you are a sweet balm that soothes the sting of loss. Even when you’re struggling to stand, face hot from the intoxication of good drinks in even better company, you’re a wondrous presence who chases away his doubts and worries.

Unknowingly, you cast a temporary shroud over those matters and he’s put at ease the minute you extend your arm in his direction.

“Kazuha! Come over here. Let’s dance!”

A hiccup interrupts your jovial giggle and Beidou chuckles before throwing her head back to drink what’s left in her flask. The aura of her ship is beyond lively. Men and women alike celebrate another successful week with drinks, harrowing tales of past heroes, and broken ballads sang in drunken tones. He can’t help the smile that sprouts on his lips. You’re such an outgoing person, always wanting to include him in your daily activities. And though he politely declines whenever you offer him alcohol, he has wondered what the appeal could possibly be.

Perhaps it’s the idea of losing your sensibility for one night, ignoring all reason for the sake of spending pleasurable moments in the confines of a warm bed, wrapped snugly in a lover’s embrace. Such instances are lost to intoxicating pleasure—buried under a hazy recollection come morning. But you haven’t done that sort of thing. Kazuha would know. He listens in while you’re relaxing—while you’re bathing and going about life on the ship without a care in the world—and his head runs wild with all sorts of fantasies. Fantasies he never would have imagined had he not met you.

To think you were just a mere stowaway, a trespasser who had snuck onto the ship and hid in the darkest corner, obscured by crates and chests. And he had pulled those crates aside in search of a few ingredients and his eyes met yours and you held your finger to your lips—a silent urge to keep quiet—and his heart skipped a beat.

It was a special meeting between two, which will remain locked away in his heart for all of eternity. A memory he regards with warm fondness. After much negotiation and a disarming conversation, you were soon welcomed with open arms as Beidou practically offered you to join her crew. You had nowhere else to go—no one else to see or protect—and so you agreed. And Kazuha felt a relief he hasn’t felt in a while, the sort of emotion that stems from almost losing something important.

The pure relief that comes and goes once he realizes you’re a missing piece in the puzzle of his life.

“You’ll trip,” he warns, pushing off from the side of the ship and walking over to you and Beidou. “It wouldn’t be wise to dance in your inebriated state. Surely you’re aware of this, no?”

“I can hold my alcohol.” Your wavering glare doesn’t reach him. “Don’t... Don’t think otherwise or else I’ll—ah!”

The majority of Beidou’s weight burdens your shoulders and you nearly almost crumble.

“You—“ she searches for a means to steady herself— “worry too much,” the captain adds, nodding in agreement to an unspoken statement. “It’ll be okay! Live a little while you’re still young.”

Kazuha sighs and easily slips between the two of you, hooking his arm around Beidou’s waist as he guides her to a barrel. The scent of alcohol kisses the air, clinging to your clothes and breath like an oversaturated perfume. Once she’s sat down, now fully determined to get the last few drops from out of the flask, the rōnin turns to you. He’s caught by surprise when your hands grasp his, your eager expression stabbing his heart with a dozen pins. He’s rooted to the floorboards, unable to look away when your face is dangerously close to his.

“You heard the captain,” you tease in a slurred voice. “Live a little.”

And he does. Or he thinks he does. Having traveled with Beidou, this is the current life he’s come to know and appreciate. But is it truly living if he feels unfulfilled in the process? To find a means for bringing back the familiar glow in a lonely Vision. To secure peace of mind and put his rowdy thoughts to rest. To one day return to the nation he was forced to flee, with you in tow. Are all of these things necessary in order to fill the gaping void in his damaged heart? Kazuha wonders if you also came from Inazuma. Perhaps you wouldn’t be so surprised to see the scenery if he were to take you there. Not now, of course. Sometime in the future, if such a future holds a changed Inazuma.

“I’m going to warn you now,” he mumbles, his fingers ghosting over your waist, “I’m not what one would call a dancer of skillful grace.”

“I don’t think that’s true, dear Kazuha.”

He blinks once and then releases a short laugh at the endearing term. “If you say so.”

“Enough talk.” You huff and pull him into your chest and he feels as though he could stay locked in this position for millennia. “Dance with me before...” A stilted pause as you nearly forget your sentence. “Before I turn in for the night. That’s it.”

Or before you get sick, he thinks, not so cheerful about the inevitable mess. But he’ll tolerate it because you’ve tolerated him. You never pry into his past, nor do you force him to answer personal questions regarding Inazuma and the Raiden Shogun. If you ever notice the way he lingers near your quarters, you don’t say a word. And if you hear his subdued moans as his hand moves in time with a picturesque fantasy of your nude form pressed against his, you keep your mouth shut. You are everything he could ever want and like the very ideal the Raiden Shogun wishes to uphold he wants to pursue an eternity with you.

Your movements are far from the precision you normally have when moving about the ship and it’s a very odd dance. Yet you spin him and he follows your unusual lead like an animal with tunnel vision. For a taut moment, the background noise melts away into obscurity and the two of you are the only people in existence. He stares at your face the entire time, ignoring the way your sandals crush his feet or the instances where he unintentionally returns the gesture. It’s certainly an awkward sort of waltz, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

And in this moment where no one else matters, he sees your radiance in the glow of the moon. You truly are worthy of the sun and the stars beyond and should you verbalize an outlandish wish of that nature he has no choice but to follow through.

Like a leaf swept up in an autumnal breeze, reminiscent of a ronin who lacks a place in the world, Kazuha allows himself to be carried on by the winds that rustle the sails and tangle through your hair, painting you in a backdrop that’s heaven handcrafted by the pickiest god. And where you have your wits, a lively Vision, and your confidence, he only has his blade, a dull Vision, and an inkling of hope. But that’s really all he requires.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere kazuha x reader #yandere kazuha #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere kaedehara kazuha #yandere kaedehara kazuha x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact kazuha #genshin impact kaedehara kazuha #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha

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just-a-really-tall-girl-tbh · 3 years

Text

Grounded

Summary: Y/n is kidnapped and forced to reveal secrets of the pack

Pairing: Derek X Reader

Warnings: Blood, torture, swearing

Word count: 2605

Original piece please don’t copy

The school bell rang for the final time that day, a collective sigh of gratitude echoed in the room, the teenagers grateful to be released from the maths teacher’s class. Gathering your books, you stacked them in a neat pile before exiting the room, offering a small smile to your defeated teacher. It wasn’t her fault maths sucked and no one enjoyed it, you did feel bad for her on some level but also who the hell would willingly dedicate their life to teaching numbers?

Entering the hallway, you made your way through the sea of teenagers, everyone desperate to go home for the weekend. Reaching your locker, you grabbed the couple books you needed, shoving them into your backpack, thinking about the homework you had due on Monday you sighed. The door to your locker slammed shut before you could close it.

“Hey, you ready?” Stiles smiled.

“I told you I can walk home.” You rolled your eyes, walking away from the boy. Surprised by your quick movement, Stiles jogged to catch up to you, throwing an arm lazily around your shoulders.

“I know you can walk home but why would you when you have me?”

Exiting the main doors of the high school, you welcomed the fresh warm air, the smell of angsty teens left behind you. Reaching the end of the pavement, you saw the jeep parked a few cars away.

“Stiles I want to walk.” You turned to face the boy.

“Y/n, you heard what Derek said okay? All these recent attacks? The break ins and thefts? He doesn’t want you alone.” Stiles tried to reason with you. Knowing the recent spike in criminal activity was less than likely to involve the supernatural, you felt safe walking the 20-minute trip home. In fact, you enjoyed the peace it brought you. Half of the walk was through the woods, a quiet haven from the busy high school, and being autumn, you relished in the yellow and orange leaves that swept through the small woodlands.

“Stiles. It’s 20 minutes. I’ll text you when I get home okay?” Stiles sighed.

“You know Derek is going to kill me if I let you, you know, that right? You like the idea of alive Stiles because I do! And I am not letting you be the reason I don’t make it to my 20’s okay?”

“Derek doesn’t have the balls to kill you.” You turned on the heel of your foot, headed towards the woods, leaving a defeated Stiles in your wake.

“I’m telling Derek you said he has no balls!” He called after you. You let out a small laugh, grabbing your headphones from your backpack, and your phone from your pocket, you scrolled through your playlist, deciding today was the perfect day for (Your current favourite song).

Entering the woods, you felt a rush of calm wash over you, the stressful week was pushed to the back of your mind, your thoughts centred on the surrounding woods. You stepped over exposed roots and around large bushes, glancing up at the sky you watched as the wind swept through the foliage, the ageing leaves dancing in the light breeze. The sun peaked through the cracks, determined to reach the forest floor, providing the perfect amount of light for your stroll. The floor of the woods had been coated in fallen leaves, leaving a blanket of red and orange below your feet. Taking a moment to stop and appreciate the tranquillity the forest provided you, you felt your phone buzz in you pocket.

Home yet? I’m this close to sending out a search party!

Rolling your eyes and shaking your head you began typing a response.

You need to…

Before you could finish you felt a knock to your head, your vision distorted, the soft sound of music playing through your headphones which were now next to you on the forest floor, was the only thing you could hear before everything went black.

***

Another blow straight to your stomach knocked the wind out of you. Coughing and spluttering you attempted to regain your breath, each inspiration hurting more than the last.

“Oh, you are so going to regret that.” You mumbled.

Leaning to the side of the chair you spat a mixture of saliva and blood to the ground, you couldn’t tell where the source of the blood was coming from, maybe your lip, or maybe the inside of your mouth. Too many lacerations to your face meant it all blended into one.

You raised your eyes to meet your rival, struggling to see through the blood you saw one man wiping his fists on an old rag, your blood coating his knuckles. He faced a woman to your left, who sat with one bent knee up on a bench. Her back leaning against the wall adjacent to you, a smug grin on her face.

You rotated your wrists which were bound behind you, the thick rope digging into your skin. Your ankles were bound too, tied to the legs of the wooden chair you sat on.

“You’re going to tell us what we want sweetie, its just a matter of how beat up that pretty face is going to be before you tell us.” The woman commented, as she played with her fingernails, pushing the cuticles back. If she was trying to look disinterested, she was doing a great job. But you were ready for this. You trained for this. You knew what was coming, and if it meant keeping your friends, the pack, safe, then you would gladly take whatever they threw at you.

The mans fist connected with your jaw once more, snapping you out of your daze. The room began to spin around you, and your vision blurred. Trying to recenter yourself you pulled at your wrists, the pain of the rope grinding into your skin giving you something to focus on.

“Alright careful there, big guy, we need her conscious if we’re going to get that information.” The woman stood from her seat, striding slowly over to you, before bending at the waist in front of you. She reached out to grab your face, but as soon as her fingers made contact with your skin you pulled away. A stern look, on your face made the woman let out a small laugh.

“You’re a tough one aren’t you.” She turned her head, almost admiring your battered body before her. “Too bad that doesn’t mean shit around here.” Grabbing your hair, she yanked your head back, exposing your neck to the room. Moving to stand behind you she held out her other hand, gesturing towards the man in front of you. Without a word exchanged, the man grabbed a knife from a nearby table, its blade glinting in the moonlight the small window above you allowed.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea who you are dealing with do you?” The woman whispered in your ear, her grip on your hair only tightening as she neared the knife to your throat. You felt the cold edge, lightly cross your neck, not enough to pierce the skin, but enough for you to avoid swallowing.

Taking a deep breath in you closed your eyes. Grounding yourself was apart of your training, something that was drilled into you from the beginning. Breathing in again, you picked up on the different smells the room produced, sweat from the man in front of you, poorly masked by his cheap cologne. The sweet smell of the woman’s hair from behind, her locks dangling beside your face. The overwhelming metallic smell of blood being the most potent. You changed your focus to your heartbeat. Feeling it pounding against your chest begging to be released you pictured your heart slowing, its contractions reducing with every breath you took. Steadying your breathing was next. Cautious of the blade still connected to your neck you breathed in through your nose, holding in for a few seconds before releasing softly through your mouth. Repeating those steps, you were able to regain some stability. You were still in the same crappy scenario but at least now you were calmer. A panicking person is an interrogators wet dream. A calm person, their nightmare.

Sensing your self-control increase, the woman let go of your hair, moving the knife from your neck to the table beside the man. Standing before you once more, she knelt in front of you, keeping one knee up for balance, she waited for your eyes to open once more. Regaining the control, you almost lost, you felt strong enough to open your eyes once more. Staring at you the woman barely moved, she was searching your eyes for something, her expression a mixture of shock and impressed.

“You’re not afraid.” Her words barely above a whisper. Your only response was a return glare. A small smile creeping on to the face of your kidnapper. “They trained you well.”

Standing, she turned to the man behind her, whispering something in his ear before turning back to face you, her arms crossed against her chest. The man dropped the rag he was still holding and left the room, the sound of the door locking behind him.

“Let’s cut the bullshit honey. You have information I need. And I know I’m not going to break you, not by torturing you anyways. So, let’s try something else, shall we?” The woman began to pace back and forth in front of you, the small room only allowing her a few steps before being forced to turn around again. Your eyes followed her, left and right, before she stopped in front of you once more, still facing forward.

Taking in a sharp breath, she spoke. “How’s your sister doing?” She turned to face you. Refusing to let her know she was finally making some progress with you, you remained staring at her. Resuming her pacing she continued speaking.

“She’s what 5 now? Gosh so young. But you know what they say right? They grow up so fast.” Your eyes tracked the woman, more intently than before. This woman knew your family. Something that was always off limits when the pack was involved. Your attempts at shielding them from the supernatural had been successful, keeping that part of your life private even from Derek. And here this woman stood, threatening them. Threating to take away your motivation to make the world safer. Unfazed by your lack of reaction the woman carried on.

“Soon enough she’ll be going to high school, making friends, maybe even realising who her sister really is.” She stopped before you once more, bending at the waist she placed her hands on the arms of the chair you were bound to. “You didn’t think you could protect them, forever did you?” Tears threatened to fall from your eyes. No amount of calm breathing could ground you now. “Aw babe.” Her hand raised to your cheek, ready to wipe away the falling tear. You only pulled away from her once more, hating the way her skin on yours felt. “Don’t tell me I hit a nerve, did I? Sucks doesn’t it. Well, there is one way of ensuring your little family stay naïve to the world around them.” She stood tall once more, her voice now deeper, more sinister than before. “Tell me what I want to know.”

You had no choice, right? She threatened your family, your sister. You protected them from so long, only for you to be the reason they are in danger. Looking down at your lap, tears hit your thighs unable to control them you simply let them fall. Taking a deep breath, you looked up at the woman before you, a smirk present on her face which made it so much harder to say what you were about to. But the images of your sister raced through your mind. The way her hair shone in the autumn sun, the way her smile reached her eyes when she was really, truly happy, the way she greeted you after school every day by running down the front path directly into your arms. That was the highlight of your day, finishing school and-

Wait

You never responded to Stiles.

You never texted him back, and the kidnappers were kind enough to bring your phone into the room with you – hoping to get some information.

Your eyes moved to the door behind the woman, a loud crash followed by a heavy grunt sounded from behind the entranceway. The woman whipped her head around, only to be met by silence. She slowly approached the doorway.

“Adrian…?”

Silence

The woman turned back to you, unsure of herself. You only had a small smirk as a response. Before she could question you, the door busted open, barely remaining on its hinges, a rush of dust filled the room. Watching ahead as the dust clouds engulfed the woman, you heard a deafening roar followed by a petrified scream. Small thuds followed, as the dust reached your eyes you began coughing, the sudden pain in your ribs swiftly returning.

Two hands were placed on your shoulders, looking up you were met by two green eyes.

��Hey, you okay?” A worried Derek scanned your face, concern riddled him as he saw the multiple cuts and bruising before him. You could only nod, the dust denying you the ability to speak.

Moving behind you, he effortlessly cut the ties that bound your hands, then your legs. Using the arms of the chair to stable yourself, you attempted to stand, wincing when the pain became too much. Derek moved to your side, wrapping your arm over his shoulder. Carefully placing his arm around you, resting his hand on your hip he accepted most of your weight, attempting to make standing and walking easier. As you took a few steps forward, the dust cleared from your eyes and you were able to regain focus. Looking forward you saw the woman who threatened you, her back against the same wall the door was, her skin now covered in blood, her chest still rising and falling rapidly. Scott stood before her, looking down at the defeated woman, his eyes still red and his claws still present.

Clearing your throat, you stopped walking, causing Derek to pause and look over to you. You peered down at the woman, no longer in a position of power, she looked smaller, more gaunt than before. Her eyes showed she was petrified, providing some comfort to you after what she did.

“Sucks doesn’t it?” a whisper of a smirk present on your lips.

Proceeding to step forward through the doorway you were met by a panting Stiles, his arms stretched out in front of him, you couldn’t tell him to stop before his body connected with yours. You inhaled sharply, grimacing as pain rang throughout your body.

Derek used his free hand to grab Stiles by the shoulder, pulling him away from you, a small growl forming in his chest.

“Oh, shit sorry of course you’re hurt shit sorry.” The boy stumbled over his words, his eyes finally taking in the battered sight before him. He moved to the side of you not occupied by Derek, his help was welcomed by you, suddenly feeling lightheaded from standing.

The three of you began walking forward towards the exit of the building.

“Is now a good time to tell Derek, you think he has no balls?” Stiles piped up earning a death glare from Derek. “No? Okay we can come back to that.” You used whatever energy you had left to shake your head.

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bonesofapoet · 3 years

Text

Melted Stars, Melted Sea

[arthur curry x you]

author’s note: me, deep in chaos territory atm: hey remember that aquaman thing you wrote over two years ago when you watched the movie ten times in three days? yeah you should post that since you havent posted anything in a While + you watched the snyder cut two times in 24 hours

words: 1370

He found you on the dock, eyes spellbound by the infinite celestial sky above you.

It was common, that he found you like this. Back pressed against sturdy wooden planks, hands tucked behind your head or mimicking the rise and fall of your abdomen. Air, cool from the ocean would caress your face, your hands, your skin - it kept you grounded just enough, so you wouldn’t forget you were still on planet Earth. Your eyes would remain glued to the deep lavender, cobalt blue, and midnight black. They would search the crystalline sprinkles above for familiar shapes, and then shapes you wished to know. You hunted for far off moons or tails of the galaxy and hidden planets you longed to see with your own bright eyes. You imagined what, or who, could be residing in the eerily empty spaces between the glitter in the sky.

Arthur Curry loved that about you.

It was ironic, he thought - his own head was usually down underwater, lost in the darkness below. Yours was tilted up and up and up to see where no human had gone before.

In the middle of your impromptu star-gazing session, soft footfalls on the dock began to bring your mind back down to your own rock in the cosmos. A nudge to your calf brought wandering eyes back down to land.

“Want to go for a drive, Stephen Hawking?”

You smiled at the sky; a grin that could put ethereal moonlight to shame.

“Always,” barely made it past your lips before you were hauled to your feet and into the arms of the Aquaman himself. He pulled you close for a moment, before he took your hand and guided you to the truck idling at the edge of the docks. You tilted your head back one last time; trusted Arthur to catch you if you were about to bite the dust.

You tripped over a rock.

He laughed. You shoved him.

This is what peace feels like.

It was the lone thought that thrummed through your entire being.

Brisk night air stained with the brine of the sea ripped through the open windows - a welcome comfort, just like the hand the meta-human had rested on your thigh with his other on the wheel.

“This never gets old,” your voice was quiet, but your eyes were alert. Clear. Drinking in the New England coastline, the rise and fall of the Atlantic Ocean in the distance. The moonlight illuminated cresting waves and seafoam that kissed the shore. Cliffs from far up the road looked deadly and beautiful in the deep hours of the night, and you never tired of driving these winding paths. The hills in front of you, the depth-less, unforgiving sea to your right, and the man you loved keeping you close while he drove on your left.

“Nothing is, with you.”

You barely heard him over the howl of the wind in your ears, or the explosion of the waves rushing each other over and over and over. A small smile blossomed on your lips.

“We’re being so soft I want to punch us in the face.”

Arthur’s laughter roared louder than any crack of thunder you had ever heard.

The king of Atlantis was inclined to agree with you.

Your fingers mindlessly traced exposed tattoos of the arm in your lap the rest of the drive, more preoccupied with the movement than the silence that filled the air until you returned to the lighthouse. The quiet was nice. It was soothing. It was rare, spending time with Arthur like this; even more so now that he had a whole other world to look after. A whole other kingdom to live in and govern and protect.

You accepted his decision long ago, reassured him you would be fine, because you would, and you were. He had your unyielding support both while he was away, and while he was with you.

It made you love him more, even, for refusing to pull the age old cowardice bullshit: “I can’t give you the attention you deserve anymore, so I’m breaking up with you, sorry.”

No - that was far from Arthur Curry’s style.

There was no walking on razor sharp eggshells around the subject, no hiding behind false truths and white lies about your truest thoughts and feelings, no internalizing or projecting your worst fears and horrifying nightmares that suddenly became real because he was leaving and he was fulfilling his destiny and you were staying here, on the surface, without him.

And yet - neither of you questioned this was how it had to be. How you wanted it to be, even just a little. He wanted to be there for his people, and you wanted him to stop running from his responsibilities, to embrace who he truly was. So you wanted this, for him, even though you missed him more than the sun missed the moon and the constellations missed their previous lives on the Earth. You knew he felt the very same way.

The truck eventually crept to a stop. The full moon shone snow-white rays through the windshield, making your bodies glow in the radiant light. It was enough to convince Arthur that maybe angels were real, and he had been with one all along.

It was enough to convince you that instead of Poseidon incarnate, Arthur could rival that of Apollon, God of Light.

“It’s almost time,” he said into the quiet, breaking the hushed spell you both had fallen under. His eyes were trained on the monumental expanse of the ocean now. Serene urgency laced with his voice, but he hadn’t moved to untangle himself from you, hadn’t moved except to press a kiss into your lips slow and grounding.

You moved instead, when you broke apart.

“Then why don’t we get out of this truck so you can kiss me goodbye properly?” you teased. The process of leaving had begun once more.

He stood by your side under the starlight, who broke the darkness with it’s poetry.

Arthur took your face in his hands and kissed you so fiercely you felt like the world was about to burn into nothing. It was a kiss that could end wars and bring hurricanes crashing down to land. It was a kiss that stole your breath, stopped your heart and rose the dead from their graves, the kind of kiss that restarted the cycle of life after death. It was a kiss that spoke so many words, so many phrases and spoke of feelings that were deep enough no words in any language existed for them yet. It was a kiss that made the mere mention of happiness seem like a figment of your imagination, because there was no way happiness could compare to what you were feeling in that one moment.

You felt it in your bones, felt it melt your bones.

All with the sea as your witness.

You pulled away breathless, not remembering what oxygen felt like or how you were supposed to breathe. The only anchor to this world was the gentle spray of the ocean on your skin, the light embrace of a salt breeze that felt like it was breathing for you, instead of on you. The cool tendrils of darkness and contentment kissed your spine, and you shivered just for a second.

This was peace, you realized.

This was peace and it was always only temporary, but in those last moments before Arthur told you he loved you more than Atlantis and the Surface and more than the sea combined –

Before you watched the dark waters swallow him whole again, you acted on those feelings. You followed your gut and threw yourself into the icy waters before he ever had the chance.

(Metaphorically, of course.)

“Marry me,” it flew past your lips so effortlessly, so fast - your hands were still lost in Arthur’s hair and neither of you had the chance to catch your breath.

A beat of silence.

And another.

It sunk in for both of you at the same time, what you just asked.

The shit-eating grin that moved mountains in your stomach graced his lips in a heartbeat.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

#aquaman imagine #arthur curry x reader #justice league imagine #kas writes

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skiesofthesketchy · 4 years

Text

Stood Up {1}

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

Summary: You have a date with your friend that you’ve liked forever, but he never shows up.

Note: Heyyyyy Please read the warnings before proceeding. This is one of the darker things I’ve ever written, and it might trigger some people so please be careful. I’m usually a fluff writer but I’ve been feeling... ya know, down lately so this is what I made. I’m working on the second part to Unsend still, but haven’t been in the mood lately so sorry it’s taking so long!

Let me know what you think! :)

Word Count: 6.5k

Stood Up: {Part 2} / { Part 3}

WARNINGS: Violence and abuse! sexual violence! trauma! swearing, angst

***

Y/N’s P.O.V.

10:00 PM

I pulled my sweater tighter against me when I felt a small burst of wind, the chill making goosebumps surface on my bare legs. I looked left and right down the black street, but nobody was around. It was quiet, almost silent besides dried leaves scraping against the pavement, and the only light was the orange glow from the street lamps and the red neon sign above my head casting onto the empty street. It was a nice night, even with the cool breeze, but I could feel my nerves kicking in.

I tried to remain optimistic though. Maybe he’s just running late... I pulled out my phone again to see if JJ had texted me back, but he hadn’t.

On my way! See in you 20 :)

I sighed, looking at the last text I sent him. I only sent it hoping to remind him that we had plans tonight in case he forgot. He always forgets.

‘He’s just a forgetful person,’ I tell myself for what feels like the thousandth time. It’s usually that phrase that makes me feel better, or ‘He’s got a lot going on.’ I never make it a big deal when he misses our plans, even though it feels like a small piece of my heart breaks off and dies every time it happens.

‘This time is different though,’ I told myself. It was just yesterday that I mentioned the movie theater was showing a bunch of Quentin Tarantino films this week. I tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal, just a fun thing me and my friends could all do together, but I was truly very excited about it and really hoped they’d be down.

“Are they showing Kill Bill?” JJ asked with a smile. The other pogues didn’t seem interested but I was happy that JJ was.

“Yeah. Tomorrow night actually,” I shrugged.

“We should go.”

I smiled softly at him. “Sure, if you want to.”

He chuckled, blue eyes lighting up as he poked my cheek. I knew he could see right past my nonchalant demeanor. “That’s your favorite movie ever. Of course I want to go see it with you! My treat.”

I ignored the fluttering in my belly, but couldn’t hide my smile. He remembers my favorite movie and wants to watch it with me. “You don’t have to pay for me,” I shook my head with a laugh. I didn’t expect him to, but the fact that he offered made my chest warm. JJ doesn’t have much money to begin with, and with what he does have, he usually spends on weed and beer, necessities in his daily life.

“No, no,” he tsked, bringing me into a hug. My giddy grin was thankfully hidden in his chest. Being this close to him always makes me feel lighter than air, warmer than the summer breeze. “You’re my girl. Let me take you out,” he finished, chuckling into my hair.

I felt heat rise to my cheeks, like I always did when he called me his girl. I nodded in agreement once I pulled away from his embrace. “Ten o’clock tomorrow, okay?”

“I’ll be there,” he replied, saluting me with a wink before turning to join the conversation the rest of the pogues were engaged in, leaving me to internally gush about going on a date with the boy I’ve liked since forever.

Maybe it wasn’t a date, or maybe it was. I didn’t really know, but I didn’t care as long as I got to spend time with JJ. It really did feel like this time was different. My thoughts swirled, wondering if he likes me back. Wanting to take me to a movie makes it sound like he likes me, right?

Date or not, I wanted to look nice, so I spent more time getting ready than I normally did. I experimented with some light makeup, trying to make it subtle but still pretty. I left my hair down after making it look somewhat decent, something I hardly ever do because my go-to is always putting it up. I even picked out a dress to wear but made sure to choose one that JJ had seen me in plenty of times. I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard, but still hoped he would notice my appearance and think I looked pretty.

10:10 PM

The movie started ten minutes ago, and still no word from JJ. I glanced down at my shoes and hugged myself tighter. ‘Maybe he did forget... again.’ I didn’t want to believe it, giving JJ the benefit of the doubt like I always did. But he still wasn’t here.

Yo are you coming? I sent another text.

I was really excited about tonight, not just because I’d be seeing one of my favorite movies in the theaters as if it was premiering for the first time. Now I just feel... heavy. Like I’m carrying the weight of the reality I should’ve realized a long time ago. If I was important to him, he would remember our plans.

My frown deepened. That’s what it comes down to, right? If he actually cared about me, he would be here, or at least tell me he’s not going to make it. Constantly forgetting our plans is a huge sign that he doesn’t like me the way I like him, that I don’t matter to him enough to follow through. It’s a sign I’ve been ignoring even though it’s been there the whole time, blaringly obvious and all too painful.

No. JJ does care about me, even if it’s just as a friend. He’ll be here. He told me he would be.

10:20 PM

Spinning around and looking at the movie theater entrance, I thought about going inside and watching the movie anyway, but I suddenly wasn’t up for it anymore. This sick feeling in my gut was all I could think about.

Of course JJ doesn’t like me. Why did I get my hopes up so high when all he’s ever done is not show up? It hurts. It feels like something crawled up inside of me and slashed its claws at my dumb, naive heart. Its terrifying and hoarse voice whispering in my ear, “What did you expect?”

Perhaps this is my fault; letting myself fall for someone that doesn’t feel the same. JJ Maybank: one of my closest friends, the biggest player on the whole damn island, and the most emotionally unavailable boy I’ve ever met. Of course I had to fall for him. I’m a fucking idiot.

I slumped my shoulders, feeling defeated and tired. It’s like I was tossed to the side without a second thought, much like the trash lining the curb. My throat tightened with the emotions threatening to pour out in sobs, but I held them back. It’s not his fault. I’m the one with these stupid feelings, waiting around for him to feel them too, but he doesn’t.

10:30 PM

I checked my phone one last time, still nothing. With a deep sigh, I started walking towards the direction of my house. I focused my attention on my sandals hitting the sidewalk, each step feeling like another crack in my heart.

‘You’re fine,’ I told myself. ‘Don’t cry. You’re fine.’

But I wasn’t, and I felt the stubborn tears brim my eyes. I turned the corner and this street was much darker, the street lights dim and far apart. The sound of someone else’s footsteps pricked my ears, and I kept my head down to hide my frustration and the sadness running down my cheeks. I wanted the footsteps to belong to JJ, finally showing up but just a bit late. I knew better though, and didn’t bother looking up.

“Well, look who it is. A little pougie.” I halted in my tracks, my eyes flicking up to find his cold ones, and I shot him a glare. As if I needed something to make my night even worse. Fucking Rafe.

“Not even gonna say hello?” he asked. I kept my posture stiff and my stare hard, trying to act tough even though I was most certainly in a vulnerable state.

“What are you doing here, Rafe?” Rafe was predictable in the way that he lived to torture me and my friends. That’s the only reason he’d ever be caught dead in The Cut.

He stopped right in front of me, his tall frame dark and intimidating. Even under the blanket of night I could see his eyes were bloodshot and a sickening smirk lined his lips. He ignored my question as his eyes dragged up and down my body, making my stomach twist and skin crawl. “Where’s the rest of your dirty crew?” he spat.

“You’re lucky they’re not here.” I kept my tone steady, but I could feel my hands start to shake and an uneasy feeling settled inside of me. I need to get out of here.

With hands stuffed in his pockets, he leisurely walked around me, eyes still glued to my bare legs. “You look pretty,” he whispered. “Were you on a date?”

“No.”

“Then why are you all dressed up, darlin’?” His gaze met mine again when I spun around to face him, and with the way his features slightly softened, he probably noticed that I had been crying. “Oh. You were stood up, huh?”

Is it that obvious? “No,” I snapped.

He chuckled darkly, stepping even closer to me, and I took a step back. “His loss.” Then he just stood there staring at me while I was lost in a sea of confusion. Is he trying to be nice?

“Well. It’s been not so nice talking to you. I’m going home now.” I turned around to escape this unpleasant conversation, but I was spun back around with the man’s grip on my arm.

“Don’t leave. I’m not done talking to you.” I felt fear creep under my skin as I looked up at his face again, hardly able to make out anything but his eyes. He wasn’t asking, he was demanding.

“Leave me alone.” I tried to snatch my arm out of his grasp, but he pushed me into the brick wall of the building we were in front of.

The sudden movement caused me to stumble and twist my ankle. “Ow! Rafe, what the fuck!” I felt the pain shoot up my leg, but couldn’t focus on it for long. Rafe’s menacing features had panic surging through my veins as he came closer.

I pressed my back into the hard wall trying to separate myself as much as I could from the man towering over me. “You’ve had a rough night. Let me make you feel better,” he said. He stepped into me, his chest pressing against mine as he looked down at me.

“Get the fuck off of me,” I choked out.

His wicked laugh fanned over my face and I felt angry tears fall. “Come on, little poguie. At least I actually want you.” His words seemed to drive a knife into my chest. JJ doesn’t want me, but I don’t have time to think about that right now. I can hardly think of anything right now.

My palms rose to his chest, but he caught my wrists in his hands, keeping me from shoving him off. He laughed again, and the realization that Rafe isn’t sober washed over me like a tidal wave. What have I gotten myself into? “Let me go!” I screamed.

He shut me up by forcing his mouth onto mine. I screamed against his lips but he pressed into me harder. I started thrashing my body under the weight of his, but his hold became tighter. He brutally clutched both of my wrists into one of his large hands while the other came up to slap over my mouth, cutting off my cries.

“Just let it happen, darlin. Enjoy it,” he whispered into my ear. Hot tears ran down my face as I felt his lips on my neck. He sucked harshly on my skin as I squirmed, trying desperately to escape, but I couldn’t. Even if I couldn’t, I would die trying.

His mouth attacked my throat while I struggled between him and the wall. With the adrenaline pumping through my body, I used all of my strength and pushed him as hard as I possibly could. With the few inches I created between us, I picked my leg up and stomped my heel into his foot.

I prepared to bolt with the time I had bought myself, but a second later he was landing a ruthless slap to my face. I registered the burning pain as he pinned me to the wall with his body again. “Oh, now you’re really gonna get it, pogue.” His sudden anger shook me to my core, his sick laugh echoing in my ears like a fire alarm.

His hand landed on my thigh and dragged along my skin, pushing my dress up higher and higher as I felt the screams get caught in my throat. I dug my nails into his arms but he wasn’t bothered. He kissed me again and I took his bottom lip between my teeth, biting down hard until I tasted blood.

He yanked his head back, face twisting in rage. Even with his violating hands still searing into my skin, I brought my knee up into his crotch, and he yelled in pain. I didn’t waste any time and took off running, but I was yanked back by my hair.

“Fucking bitch!” My head throbbed as I crashed to the ground, feeling my elbows scrape the pavement. I was seeing stars as I felt Rafe’s weight drop on top of me, his form straddling me. I threw my fists wildly into his stomach and chest, desperately trying anything to escape him, but I knew my efforts were becoming futile. His ring-clad fist connected with my cheekbone and a sob crawled its way up my throat.

“Stop!” I screamed. His hand suddenly grabbed my throat, cutting off my cries once again. I clawed at his skin to get him to stop, but he only increased the pressure on my esophagus until I couldn’t breathe, and I squeezed my eyes shut. My world was spinning and my terror didn’t let me register the pain anymore, only the horrendous realization of what’s happening to me taking over my thoughts.

After what felt like minutes but was only a few seconds, I felt his breath fan over my face from where he hovered over me. “You’re not fucking worth the trouble.” He released my neck and I felt him get off of me, but I dared not open my eyes. I was too scared of what might happen. It surely became known when I felt a sharp kick to my stomach. I whimpered, then he landed another kick to my side. “Nobody wants you now! Nobody will ever want you! You’re just a dirty little pogue,” he seethed.

“Fucking bitch,” he spat again, and I heard his heavy footsteps as he stormed off, leaving me on the ground in pieces.

11:00 PM

I finally sat up, finding the strength to put myself together again, but was pulled into a coughing fit, my throat burning. I wish I could say I was numb, but I was brutally aware of the torment my body has been through, of the emotional trauma I’d have to live with.

I carefully stood to my feet but folded in half with arms wrapped around my stomach, clutching myself in pain. Everything hurts. I forced myself to straighten, holding back the tears. I felt broken in every way possible, but I willed myself to figure out how to get help.

I picked up my bag that had been tossed to the ground and rummaged through it for my cell phone. With a heavy heart, I called the one person that I needed more than anyone.

But of course, he didn’t answer. More tears were shed, even though it felt like I couldn’t possibly cry anymore. “Answer, goddammit,” I sobbed. I called again. “Please, JJ. Please. I need you.” Again, the call went to voicemail.

I let out a wail of anguish. Even with nasty bruises already forming on my skin, the loud shatter of my heart is what hurt the most. He’s never here. Even when I need him.

I didn’t even want to call anyone else. My ankle, my face, my stomach, my throat. Even though I was shaking in pain, I wanted to wallow in my heartbreak alone, so I slowly started walking again, and limped all the way home.

***

JJ’s P.O.V.

“How was the movie last night?”

I stretched my arms over my head with a yawn, barely registering what John B. asked. “Huh?”

He chuckled and sat next to me on the pullout couch in the living room where I slept. “You got back pretty late last night. I’m guessing you and Y/N had a good time?” Now I’m thinking it’s not just my sleep induced brain that’s making me so confused.

“What do you mean? I wasn’t with Y/N,” I groaned while rubbing my eyes, the sunlight seeping through the windows too bright and annoying.

“What do you mean, dude?” His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes suddenly flashed with anger. “You were supposed to take her to a movie last night.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I grumbled, getting even more annoyed. He doesn’t have a right to be pissed at me, not when I have no idea what he’s even pissed about. It’s too fucking early for this shit.

John B. stood up with a sharp laugh. “I can’t believe you forgot again, man. Seriously?”

I sat up, my anger matching his now. “You wanna tell me what this is about?” He shook his head before looking at me again, baffled.

“Y/N? Kill Bill? You guys had a date planned.”

I glared at him before realization finally hit me. I slapped my hand to my forehead. “Fuck. Was that supposed to be last night?”

He shook his head again. “You’re unbelievable, really.” I sighed. It was an honest mistake. At least I know she’ll forgive me. She always forgives me.

“I’ll fix it. I’m sure she won’t be mad.” John B. rolled his eyes. “And it wasn’t a date, by the way.”

“Yeah? Did you tell her that?”

“Stop talking in riddles, man. What the hell do you mean? Of course she knows.” He hit me on the back of the head, reminding me of my headache, the dreaded hangover starting to take effect. “Hey! What was that for?”

“She likes you, idiot! No idea why, considering you’re just a dick that doesn’t bother to show up to the plans you guys make.”

“Is this why you’re yelling at me? She doesn’t like me, dude. Not like that,” I rolled my eyes. I could punch him for getting on my case over nothing. Y/N doesn’t like me, and missing plans has never been a big deal. I just want to deal with my hangover in peace.

“You don’t deserve her. And she doesn’t deserve your shit,” he said, walking away into the kitchen.

“You’re getting mad over nothing. Fuck off,” I grunted, head in my hands. I need coffee and advil. His yelling is making my headache worse.

He sauntered back into the living room, throwing a bottle of painkillers at me, too forcefully if you ask me. “Just tell me, if you weren’t with Y/N, what did you do last night?”

I smirked, remembering the events that took place. “A hot blonde that I met at the boneyard,” my smirk widened. I expected some sort of congratulations from my best friend like usual, but I was met with a scoff and a water bottle being thrown at me.

“You’re a prick. You know that?”

“And you’re an asshole. What do you want from me?”

“Whatever, dude. Let’s just hope Y/N forgives you this time,” he snapped, walking away and finally leaving me in much needed silence.

“She will!” I yelled after him, hearing his bedroom door slam shut.

I sighed before gulping down the painkillers for my headache. I grabbed my discarded shorts from yesterday on the floor and grabbed my phone out of the pocket. I had forgotten that I put it on Do Not Disturb mode after the hot blonde and I left the party. Girls like it when you give them all of your attention, and aren’t distracted by calls and texts.

I sighed again when I saw the text’s from Y/N.

9:36 PM: On my way! See you in 20 :)

10:10 PM: Yo are you coming?

I sure feel like an asshole now. I hoped that she would’ve watched the movie without me anyway, but considering she called me twice at 11:00, she probably didn’t. I feel even worse now that I can see she waited over an hour for me. I typed out a text to her, but I wasn’t sure how to word this apology.

Hey, sorry I missed out last night. Got held up :)

I opted for keeping it nonchalant, not wanting to make this a big deal. I’ll make sure she knows how sorry I am the next time I see her. I’m not worried though. She’s the only one out of the pouges that doesn’t get mad at me when I do stupid shit, and she always forgives me. This time won’t be any different.

I laid back down with my arm covering my eyes, and I thought about what John B. said. Y/N doesn’t like me. She’d be stupid to like a fuck up like me. No, no, we’re just friends, and have been for years. I laughed at the thought.

John B. was right about one thing, though. I definitely don’t deserve her. She’s way too good for me, especially when I’m not good to her.

***

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I stood in front of the mirror and peered at my naked body in the reflection, tears spilling down my cheeks for what felt like the millionth time.

My eye was swollen and bruised, a cut on my cheek from Rafe’s ring. Large spots of sickly green and deep violet stained my torso. Dark rings around my wrists from his tight grip. A lighter purple ring wrapped around my neck from where Rafe’s hands had cut off my breathing.

My hot tears dripped from my face and landed on my collarbone, bringing my attention to the hickeys littering the side of my neck too. I wanted to vomit. I could take the physical assault, but that’s not all this was. He violated me. Kissed me. Sucked on my neck while his hands traveled under my dress.

Going to the police was a thought that bounced through my mind, but I couldn’t, not yet at least. I was much too unstable. I needed support if I was going to report it, but I still hadn’t told anyone what happened. I spent all of yesterday locked in my room, letting myself wallow in the pain.

JJ had texted me yesterday morning, apologizing for not showing up. A simple text wasn’t enough this time. He texted me again that afternoon.

I’m really sorry, Y/N. I’ll make it up to you. Please don’t be mad at me :(

I wasn’t mad. I was heartbroken, and didn’t bother responding to that text either. If he had shown up, I wouldn’t have been assaulted by Rafe. If he was there, we would have been happily watching my favorite movie, eating snacks and probably laughing at the gore displayed on the screen. If he was there, I wouldn’t have been crying in the dark streets alone, trying to wrap my head around the fact that I could have been raped. That I was almost raped.

The other pogues were trying to get a hold of me yesterday too, inviting me to their plans, but I never responded to anyone. I didn’t want to face them, or anyone for that matter. I didn’t even think I wanted to tell them what happened. It was all too much, and I didn’t want to relive it by telling anyone what Rafe had done to me. Not to mention it would add even more ammunition to the war between us and the kooks.

I don’t feel any different today, still just wanting to curl up in bed and be alone for probably forever, but I don’t have that luxury today. My mom had left for work this morning before I even woke up, but she sent me a text asking me to run some errands. When I protested, she gave me the whole lecture on how I only ever spend time with the pogues and never help out. I didn’t have a choice.

With one last glance in the mirror, I wiped the tears off my face and started getting dressed. I had to cover the bruises somehow, but makeup was not going to do the trick. Despite the hot temperature outside, I threw on a large sweatshirt over my sports bra. If I put the hood on, nobody would notice the disgusting marks lining my neck. I found a pair of my mom’s oversized sunglasses and they covered enough of my face to hide the cut on my cheek along with the black eye. I put on shorts and shoes and grabbed my bag before looking in the mirror one last time. Nobody would notice.

***

JJ’s P.O.V.

“Have you guys heard from Y/N?” Pope asked the group. “She hasn’t responded to any of my texts for like two days.” I frowned. At least I wasn’t the only one she was ignoring. I thought that she was probably still mad at me for bailing on our plans, but since she isn’t responding to Pope either, maybe she’s just busy with other things.

“No, I haven’t,” Kie answered. “Pretty weird, right?”

“Yeah, I wonder what’s up.” Pope’s face looked concerned suddenly, and I found my own expression matching his.

“Why don’t you ask JJ here,” John B. said, tone sharp with annoyance. Kie and Pope both whipped their heads towards me, eyebrows raised in question. I just scoffed, turning my attention back to waxing my board.

“What the hell did you do?” Pope asked. His accusing words pissed me off. Who said this was my fault?

“Nothing, okay? I just forgot we had plans, and--” I was cut off by John B.

“No surprise there,” he mumbled under his breath.

Kiara sighed, her disappointed eyes casting down on me. “Seriously, JJ?”

“What? You guys can’t pin the blame on me! I got distracted, it wasn’t my fault.”

John B. scoffed and I wanted to punch him, much like yesterday morning. “Yeah, what was her name again? The distraction, I mean.” I rolled my eyes.

“Come on, dude. Not cool,” Pope added with a shake of his head. With all three of them staring at me in dismay, it felt like my friends were attacking me. It’s also like they knew something I didn’t. Why is everything always my fault?

“Stop turning it into a big deal. I just forgot, okay? I already apologized, so it’s fine.”

“So she forgave you?” JB asked, eyes narrowed like he already knew the answer.

“Well, no...” I let my head drop, looking down at the golden sand with all of our beach gear. “She never responded. But come on, this is Y/N we’re talking about! She never stays mad for long.” The words were meant to get my friends off my back, but I found myself taking comfort in them too. I had never really seen Y/N mad before, but if she actually was mad at me, I hoped she’d let me make it up to her and forgive me. I let myself believe that everything would be fine.

Nobody had anything else to say, only sighing and turning their gazes away from me. I felt the anger sitting in the pit of my stomach, but at least they dropped the subject. I’m more upset that this might actually be my fault. ‘Y/N isn’t the type to get mad easily,’ I reminded myself again. But she’s also not the type to ignore her friends. My mind drifted, wondering if she’s okay.

“Eat up, boys,” Kie said, taking a stack of sandwiches out of the cooler she brought. We all sat down on our towels and started eating, but I couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N from my mind. Maybe I should text her again.

Hey. We’re all at the beach having lunch if you wanna join us. Even if you don’t, that’s ok. Just let me know you got this. We’re all worried about you. I’m worried about you...

I typed it out, but couldn’t bring myself to send it. If she really is ignoring us, I’m sure it’s for a good reason. Maybe it’s best to just give her space. She’ll reach out when she wants to. Whatever the reason, though, I really hope it’s not because of me. She’s the one person I can always count on to be on my side, and I don’t know what I’d do if I was the cause of her distancing from us.

“Oh, no way. It’s Y/N!” Pope interrupted my thoughts. My head turned to see where he was looking, and sure enough, it was my girl, passing through the boardwalk.

Pope was up on his feet and ran to her, calling over his shoulder that he’ll bring her over to us.

***

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Y/N! Hey!” I stopped in my tracks when I heard my name being shouted, and I noticed Pope running up from behind me.

“Oh, hey Pope,” I said, trying to swallow down my nerves. I didn’t plan on running into my friends here. I didn’t need them finding out about what happened the other night, so I put on a half-hearted smile, trying to act normal, trying to act okay.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asked with a laugh, pulling me into a bear hug. I held back my wince from where he grabbed my sides, the bruises there shooting pain through my body.

“Oh, ya know,” I gulped. “Just busy with my family.” I was glad that my sunglasses were dark enough so that he couldn’t see my eyes. If he could, he’d know I was lying within seconds. “Sorry I’ve been M.I.A.”

“It’s alright. Come on. We’re having lunch right now.” He grabbed my hand and started pulling me towards the beach, and the other pogues sitting together on the beach came into my focus.

My eyes widened. “Uh, no, Pope. Sorry, but I have to go.” He stopped and gave me a weird look. “I... I’m running errands for my mom,” I shrugged, hoping he would let me go so that I don’t have to talk to the others, talk to JJ.

“Just come say hi then. Everyone missed you!” He tugged my hand again, but I didn’t budge from where I planted my feet in the sand.

“No, Pope. Really, I have to get going.” I didn’t have any other excuses up my sleeve, and I could feel my resolve coming undone. He gave me another weird look, probably wondering what the hell is going on with me. I wanted to tell him. I did, really. But I was not ready to talk about it. I didn’t need him or the others seeing what I looked like under this sweatshirt, or the black eye I was sporting under my glasses. I knew it would only cause more problems, more rage, and I couldn’t handle that right now. If anything, I just needed a hug.

“Is everything okay?” I looked down at my feet and sighed, trying to muster up the strength to lie to one of my best friends. When I looked back up to him, he had sent a look towards the pogues, and they all got up and started making their way over.

“Yes, Pope. I’m fine,” I breathed out a laugh, trying to cover up my panic. “I gotta go, now. Really.” I turned around to run away, but I was too late. The pogues had already crossed the beach and were surrounding me.

“Y/N! Hey, we missed you!” Kie smiled, pulling me into a hug. Again, I had to hide my grimace from the pain that engulfed me so that my friends couldn’t see. I knew I couldn’t keep up this act for long, and I felt my heart sinking further into my chest.

“Yeah, I’m glad we ran into you,” John B. smiled with a nod in my direction. His expression was soft and kind, and it strangely made me feel like he understood that I wasn’t all the way okay.

“There’s my girl,” JJ’s voice rang through my ears. He looked relieved, and pulled me into his chest, squeezing me tight. This time, I wasn’t able to hold in the small noise that escaped past my lips. When he pulled away, he looked down at me with concern. “You okay?”

I pushed him away. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I couldn’t put on a half-assed smile this time. He’s the one causing my pain. The one that bailed on me. The one that wasn’t there when I needed him, leaving me alone and in broken pieces on that horrible night.

“Why are you wearing a sweatshirt?” Kie laughed. “It’s like one hundred degrees out here.” I just shrugged my shoulders, even though I was dying under the heavy material and the heat of the sun. I looked over my shoulder down the boardwalk, trying to avoid their worried glances, especially JJ’s. I could feel his eyes burning into me, and I couldn’t bear the weight of it for much longer.

“Yeah, what the hell? It’s burning hot out here,” Pope added, and pulled my hood off my head.

“Pope, don’t,” I said. “I have to go.” I turned away after putting my hood back on and started walking, not even caring that they definitely know something’s wrong now. I just need to get away before I break down.

JJ was the one to catch up to me, leaving the pogues behind us and sharing worried looks. “Y/N, wait.” He grabbed my wrist, and I winced at the contact. “I just wanted to say that I’m so sorry for missing our plans. I got held up with a touron, and you know how it is. She was so hot, how could I not go home with her?” he laughed. Looking up at him, I felt my heart shatter all over again. Of course. He wasn’t with me because he was hooking up with some girl. This fucking hurts more than the punch Rafe landed to my face, and I felt anger swell inside of me.

“Come on, you’re not mad at me, are you?” He smiled, bringing his hands up to cradle my face. He was being his charming self like usual, which is precisely the reason I even fell for him in the first place. But his cute dimples and bright eyes aren’t going to fix anything this time. If anything, they’re just another stab to my chest.

He could sense I wasn’t giving into him. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise,” he pouted. My lips parted to speak, but no words tumbled out. He suddenly ripped my sunglasses from my face.

“JJ, don’t!” His face dropped at the sight of my bruised eye. The glasses fell to the sand when he stepped closer to me, eyes scanning my face. I pushed him back, but he swatted my hands away.

“Y/N?” His features quickly turned from worried to angry. “What the fuck happened?” I felt tears pricking my eyes, but I held them back as I tried to push him away again. He yanked my hood off my head and I knew he was piecing it all together now.

He reached for the bottom of my sweatshirt, and my hands grabbed at his to try and stop him. “Leave me alone,” I yelled, but he didn’t. Despite my attempts to stop him, he had grabbed the bottom of my sweatshirt and started pulling it up over my head. “JJ, stop!” I yelled again, but I couldn’t fight him back anymore because it hurt too much. He had taken it all the way off, leaving me just in my sports bra, my beaten body on full display.

A series of gasps surrounded me as the other pogues gathered around us again, shocked and bewildered expressions on their faces. I watched JJ scan my body. His eyes lingered on the bruises on my belly before flicking to my face again, and then my neck. With the way his eyebrows furrowed and he clenched his jaw, I could tell he was examining the hickeys on my skin. Tears ran freely down my cheeks, and the silence was deafening.

“Oh, Y/N...” Kie whispered, eyes becoming glossy.

“What the fuck happened?!” JJ burst. His face was twisted in rage as his hands reached for me. I stepped away, but he grabbed my arms. “Who the fuck did this to you?!” I shook my head, trying to swallow the sob that was making its way up my throat. “Y/N, who the fuck was it?!”

“JJ! Lay off!” John B. spoke up. Kie had wrapped her arms around me, wanting to shield me from our angry friend. They could tell JJ wasn’t helping.

John B. and Pope pulled at JJ’s arms to get him to step back, but he exploded even more. “YN! Tell me who did this to you!” Seeing his reddened face and furious eyes made my own burning anger swim to the surface.

“Stop yelling at her!” Pope told JJ, him and JB still holding the blonde away from me.

“No! I swear to god I’m going to kill ‘em. What the FUCK happened??”

“It wouldn’t have happened if you had bothered to SHOW UP!” I flared, my voice slicing through the chaos among the group. My heated gaze met JJ’s, and his entire face fell at my words, the rage washing away from his pools of blue and replaced with sadness.

Everything seemed to still at my outburst, even my tears. I watched as JJ crumbled beneath the weight of my words. As angry and heartbroken and hurt as I was, I wanted to see him this way. I wanted him to feel guilty.

“I should’ve known you wouldn’t show up. I should've known you wouldn’t answer when I called you for help. Because you never do.” With every word I spat, I could see the effect they had on him. I kept my ruthless stare fixed on him. “Congrats on fucking some touron, though.”

Everyone stayed silent as I picked up my sweatshirt and sunglasses from the sand. I glanced at JJ one last time before putting my glasses back on and turning around, leaving everyone behind me without another word.

***

Read: Stood Up - Part 2

Masterlist

***

#outer banks #outer banks fic #obx #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #angst #jj maybank fic #jj x reader #rudy pankow #skiesofthesketchy #bricksatans #stood up

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wulphic · 3 years

Text

Days seem as if they’ll never end

Tomo/Kazuha fic because I couldn’t sleep at 4 AM. Enjoy the angst with some nice hurt/comfort my friends!

(also first fic on tumblr yay!)

[CW: Drowning, PTSD, Flashbacks, descriptions of death, canonical character death]

The air was crisp out on the open ocean, a pleasant saltiness permeating all reaches of it, the calm spring wind serving as a delightful contrast to the rowdy crewmates of The Alcor, as the large ship gently swayed with the rhythmic waves. Nature had always been Kazuha's strong suit. Ever since he was a child, he could always be calmed by the wind, listening to the trees that covered the landscape of The Kaedahara Nobel Home as they danced joyfully in the sun.

He supposed he was feeling nostalgic as he looked up at the pitch black sky, dotted with stars, no clouds in sight. A soft sigh left his lips, as once again the cool breeze graced his face, eyes closing at the comfort that mother nature seemed to be offering him. On a beautiful night like this, with a stomach full of food and a warm bed to retire to, surrounded by people free enough to have not a care in the world, you'd think Kazuha would feel just as care-free as the rest.

Yet on this calm night, still as ever, Kazuha couldn't help but feel a pit in his stomach, one born of grief, something to remind him of what he lost, as if the dead Vision he held so tightly wasn't enough of a reminder. He traced the intricate carvings on the beautiful memento, the stone itself feeling far too cold for his unbandaged fingers, yet a distinct burning sensation struck his other hand, no doubt his mind playing tricks on him.

Kazuha attempted to ground himself, once again closing his eyes that he had previously fixed onto the Vision, listening to the wind's soft breaths in his ears to bring him back to his senses, for no matter how much loss he suffered, mother nature would always be by his side. Opening his eyes, the fiery red of them met the dull grey of the long dead gem in his hands, a somber smile parting his lips as he could almost hear the Vision's previous bearer teasing him for getting so caught up in mother nature's embrace.

He could almost hear it, the playful chuckle that made his chest warm faster than any fire in existence, impossibly faint as he tried to remember it, and all the small nuances of the jovial voice. How could his memory betray him so, how could he barely remember his voice? He'd heard it so many times before, teasing him about how serious he always acted, advising him to lighten up more. And that smile, it, too, was faded from his mind, washed away to make room for newer, much more painful memories.

And there he was again, standing still, much too still, feeling as if he'd been frozen in place, a look of utter horror adorning his features, and it was all too quiet. His mind refused nature's voice, wide eyes focusing on the falling, blooded body of the one person who understood him best. Though his mind was stuck in place, trapped in the sea of denial that had instantly flooded him once his eyes sank themselves into Tomo's form, his body moved as quick as the wind.

Kazuha felt himself holding him, grasping desperately at wounds a God had inflicted upon him, he felt the warm blood staining his clothes, felt the labored breaths of his dear friend. Shock made his own blood feel like ice water, placing a shaking hand onto Tomo's face and looking into his eyes… his eyes. Why couldn't he remember his eyes? Desperate to drag himself back to reality and away from this recurring nightmare, he squeezed tightly onto the vision still in his hands.

Squeezing, squeezing, squeezing… slip. A gasp escaped his lips as his eyes snapped open, just in time to watch the precious Vision, the one thing he had left of his friend, fall into the freezing cold water next to The Alcor. His mind was too far gone to think rationally, or even at all as he dove headfirst into the black abyss he had foolishly dropped the keepsake into. The bite of the pitch dark water was hard to ignore, yet not impossible for Kazuha.

Nothing else mattered, the only thing on his mind, in his heart, was to regain the Vision seemingly snatched away from him so ruthlessly. He couldn't do this again, he refused to believe that along with losing the one person that mattered most to him, he would lose the last piece of him as well. The need for air became urgent, feeling the terrible, panic-inducing pain in his lungs, watching helplessly as the once beautiful gem that he held so dearly sank further and further, fading, not unlike his memories of it's bearer.

If he lost the Vision like this, he was sure that the only memories of Tomo left would be the agonizing memory from that fateful night. He couldn't allow that to happen. His determination fueled him, kicking his legs with all his might as he finally caught up to the drowning vision-

Drowning. That word echoed in his mind, becoming loud and unhindered as his lungs burned from the poison he had trapped in them. Acting on instinct, Kazuha reoriented himself in the frigid waters, finally grasping back onto the reality of the situation he had put himself in and pushing his body to work with him, to obey his commands despite beginning to lose feeling in his limbs. Kicking his legs and swinging just one of his arms as hard as he could, keeping the other, his bandaged arm, tight to his chest, with a deathly hold on Tomo's Vision.

He swam toward the blurred lights of The Alcor, searching for the chain of the heavy anchor that kept it in place, something- anything to lessen the energy he had to exert to make it to safety. Though the only movement the large ship was making was the soft swaying caused by the waves, it only seemed to get farther and farther away from Kazuha. The burning in his lungs became unbearable, his body rejecting his mind's pleas to hold his breath and taking in a large gulp of what he only wished was air.

With that breath, the panic settling in his chest increased tenfold, his arms and legs moving faster and faster as his vision became darker with each passing second, the only sound in his keen ears was the slowing of his heartbeat accompanied by extremely faint yelling he assumed was coming from The Alcor. Is this how his life ended? He supposed it was fitting, dying as he attempted to desperately cling to the only thing left of his friend, drowning in his own sorrow, in a sense. As his vision blurred into one deep black color, he found himself accepting this fate. His body was tired, his mind, even more so. Perhaps this was for the best…

Kazuha took a deep gasp of air. Air, finally! His vision was still black, though he could feel the cold air on his face, his limbs were numb yet burning from exhaustion, but he could still feel himself squeezing Tomo's Vision tightly. He coughed violently, feeling his lungs thank him for giving them the air they needed, though punishing him with a searing pain as well. He felt a presence next to him, several, actually, though only one was close enough for him to touch. His eyes still failed to see any detail, however his ears never failed to give him the information he needed.

"Are you okay Kazuha?" A deep feminine voice called out to him, calming in its own regard, like a stern mother's hug. Ah, yes, Captain Beidou's voice was certainly never something Kazuha would dislike hearing. He opened his eyes, pulling them onto her crouching form, though they refused to focus on much at the moment, he could at least see her outline, sense her genuine worry for his safety. He was not confident in his voice, sure that if he attempted to speak, he not only wouldn't know what to say to the fine captain who, for the second time in their lives, fished him out of the murky depths, but his voice would no doubt be too weak to hear.

Kazuha gave the tall brunette a small nod, body still incredibly weak from how much energy he had consumed, combined with the shock from this near death experience. "We've really gotta stop meeting like this." He could hear the smile in her voice, clearly trying to lighten the mood, despite her own worry. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch up a bit at that. Always the same Beidou, she was. Blinking his eyes repeatedly proved useful of his time, the image of the world slowly fading back to him, only to have him staring up at the sky he had previously been lost in, before all this mess.

His hand briefly tightened on the Vision, tears threatening to leave his eyes. He almost lost him. He almost lost Tomo, again. This time, he could see Beidou's expression when he looked at her, her broad smile faltering into a soft frown, perfect eyebrows knitted together in yet more worry. She placed a hand on the one currently clutching his near cause of death. "Oh, Kazuha…" Beidou almost sounded as if she knew exactly what had happened to have him plunging carelessly into the water, though Kazuha was sure she didn't know. A different emotion filled his chest in that moment, it wasn't sadness, not rage nor calm, no. A deep, unbridled, shame filled him as he watched her pity filled eyes.

"I-I'm…sorry." His voice was shaky and insufferable to his own ears. He had never heard himself sound so broken, not even when Tomo had died, not even then did his voice sound so unfamiliar and weak. Kazuha cleared his throat in an attempt to fix himself, to ignore the tears welling into his eyes. A small, kind smile graced the beautiful captain's features as she shook her head gently, hand still on his own, "You have no need to apologize for anything...I understand what loss can do to someone, and I don't hold it against you for trying to hold onto this." Said hand squeezed onto his for a moment, making her point while also warming his still numb hand, if even just slightly.

A rough shiver wracked his body as a harsh breeze flew by the ship, leaving his teeth clacking and his body trying to curl in on itself. Beidou nodded, knowing exactly what Kazuha needed, what his mind was hoping for beyond belief after such an experience. "Let's get you into some dry clothes and a warm bed, alright? If you're hungry, I can have someone make something nice and hot for you, too." There it was again, that smile and warm, comforting tone that was not unlike a mother with her child. No matter how fearless and intimidating Captain Beidou was, no matter how much her reputation precedes her, she always had this incredible soft spot, if you got on her good side.

Normally, Kazuha ignored her caring nature, trying his best not to be a burden to the captain who saved his life. In his mind, he was indebted to her, attempting to be of use and take up as little space as possible seemed the natural conclusion for their relationship, but in this moment, where Kazuha lay trembling, freezing, with numb limbs and a tired mind, he couldn't have appreciated her nurturing attitude more. Nodding, he tried to sit up by himself, only struggling slightly as he did so. Beidou's hand reached out to help, yet hesitated and moved back to her side once he had regained balance and sat upright.

She once again smiled at him, giving him a nod of approval before standing herself. "I promise to you Kazuha, we will find a way to avenge your friend...so please, try not to kill yourself before we do it." Though the comment was blunt, albeit, a bit insensitive, he knew that she meant it as a promise, something that she'd not allow him to die before. He smiled, a smile filled with joy for the first time that night and nodded back to her. "Thank you, Captain Beidou." He replied, the captain holding out her hand to aid him in standing on his own two feet. He graciously took the offer, knowing better than to be prideful at this point as she began to guide him to his designated bed.

After finally allowing himself to rest and settle into the extremely comforting bed, he looked back at her, catching a glimpse of her knowing smile before it was replaced with a more genuine one. "Just let me know if you need anything and you'll have it. You've been through a lot tonight, you deserve some care." Kazuha nodded, smiling thankfully as she turned to leave, stopping at the doorway, she looked over her shoulder. "And Kazuha, if you ever need someone to talk to, be it about your friend or not, I'll always be here." She left before Kazuha could reply, leaving him to give a light chuckle through his nose. Perhaps he'd take her up on that offer.

#tomo x kazuha #tomo genshin #kazuha #genshin fanfic #genshin #genshin kazuha #kaedahara kazuha #kazuha's friend #hurt comfort #gay fanfics #beidou is mom #beidou #beidou genshin impact #first fic #kazuha x tomo #tmkz #tomokazu #wulphiction

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granddaughterogg · 3 years

Note

What’s death’s reaction to his s/o referring to him as their husband? Like maybe they go out somewhere and s/o has to introduce death to a friend they ran into in public and the first thing that comes to mind while they’re all frazzled is “Oh! This is my /husband/!”

It was Friday afternoon - the worst possible time for a grocery haul.

You've tried to communicate this to your Nephilim a few times before, but the message bounced off them. The Horsemen were perceptive people, but they've spent most of their lives under very different stars (or sometimes under no stars at all.) Never before had they to fit their undertakings within a 24-hour timetable. The intricate ways in which human society works were also all but lost on them. Repeated explanations that certain stuff has to be done at certain hours probably hacked a few good years off your lifespan.

Maybe one day they'll finally learn, you thought, slowly and tenderly losing your shit. Until then - your shared home life was a path full of organizational hiccups. Chaos often took over.

Anyway, you lived with four oversized individuals who didn't really have to eat, but they sure enjoyed it - and three of them consumed heaps. This week it just so happened that Strife went MIA (as he often would), Fury was having a Hair Maintenance Day and War really needed some bonding time with his steed. Or something.

Thankfully Death remained the reliable one. He grabbed you, summoned Despair from his pocket dimension (Death really wasn't the man for cars) and off to the supermarket you two went.

What you faced was a typical Friday after hours stampede. Tired, frustrated consumers teemed the aisles, filling their enormous shopping carts, crashing their carts into other people's backsides and running them over other people's feet. The air was stuffy, filled with maniacally upbeat music and high-pitched wailing of children.

It was sheer hell.

"Let's make this quick", you pleaded into your companion's ashy ear. "I don't know how long I can take it. Can we split the shopping list? I'll grab the groceries, you go get all the cleaning stuff and we'll meet here, okay, love?"

Death nodded, straightened himself to his whole impressive height and stalked away. You watched his wide frame part the sea of busy heads. No matter how thick the crowd, people always seemed to just naturally skip out of Death's way. A sensible instinct. Many heads have turned, the expression on their faces something between dumbfoundedness and awe. You've heard quite a few stifled "Damn!"s.

You reached for packaged rice, smirking. Your man was seven and a half feet tall, his skin the shade of bone, and no, he wasn't wearing a shirt.

You managed to persuade him to leave all his jangly ironmongery at home. That's enough Fitting In for one trip.

Death's dark head finally disappeared behind the shelves and your thoughts refocused on filling the cart. You were picking up some broccoli in the produce aisle when a high-pitched voice uttered your name.

You jumped.

"No way!!!" Something big and bright filled your field of vision. You picked up the dropped broccoli, blinked a few times, and the yellow shape refocused into a head of hair - a shiny lob dyed sunny blonde. Not one hair stuck out of place.

"It really is you!!!" squealed the head in glee. It belonged to a rather attractive woman in big rectangular sunglasses, her lips very finely painted fuchsia pink. She always looked like those ladies portrayed in the so-called ladies' magazines. Thin and poreless, exuding easy confidence that comes from not being broke even once in her whole life.

"Hi, Julianne", you groaned. There was no escaping it now.

"Honey!!! So glad to see you!!" professed the woman, eyeing you shrewdly from head to toe. She probably calculated the price of your whole outfit in her head right now - and the contents of your cart while she was at it. Drawing conclusions. Always have been good with maths. Fucking Julianne.

"I wrote to you on Facebook so many times!!" Multiple exclamation points have been her thing; apparently, this hasn't changed since high school. "Why did you never answer, silly? We had so much fun during our class reunion..."

"Uh, I bet", you murmured. You wouldn't step back within your old school walls even if they paid you. "Sorry for going no contact. I've had a lot on my plate recently, you know -"

"Like what?" the woman tilted her shapely head, her attitude playful, but also slightly accusatory.

It made you angry.

Remember the Apocalypse, Julianne? Remember when you slipped into non-existence among most of the human race? I bet you don't. I bet you decided to forget this ever happened. Like so many others did. Well, I didn't die, so I can't forget. Someone saved me and I got to traverse many different realms side by side with a Horseman of the fucking Apocalypse. And then he gave his life away, and later got brought back to life by his brother, who is also a Horseman - and we've been living together ever since...

Of course, you didn't say any of that out loud. You stood there, fondling the lush green broccoli in your hands. What even was the point?

"Oh, you know. I got into a relationship..."

"You did?"

You looked her dead in the eye - blue and suddenly wide under the swanky shades - and could tell that this was a direct hit.

"Well, yeah." You smiled at Julianne. "Those things happen, you know."

"Sure, sure!! But frankly, out of all of us, I'd never suspect you to settle with a man and all..."

"Excuse me?"

Julianne held at a strand of her perfect, shiny hair and then let go. "You were always quite the feminist after all..."

"What does this have to do with - " you blurted out and stopped mid-sentence because Death emerged from behind the shelves. His arms were full of various cleaning stuff.

"I've got everything from the list", he said. "I've also got at least partially deaf. Are we done here?"

A wide smile upturned the corners of your mouth - this time a genuine one because Julianne looked like a startled fish. She stared at you, then at the ashy, muscular, hulking giant at your side, then back at your beaming face.

Pettiness is the dish of the gods.

"Death, love, meet Julianne", you said gracefully. "Julianne, this is Death. My husband."

The words slipped out of you on their own.

You tossed him a panicked, beseeching look, but your Nephilim was game. Maybe his eyebrow quivered a little; it happened so fast that Julianne would never notice. She was too busy ogling rocky abs of this man you've settled with.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance", said Death in his most velvety, bordering-on-indecent tone. Julianne just nodded back stiffly, as if submerged in a trance.

You left the supermarket soon after that.

A strange, playful little smile twirled your Horseman's lips while he loaded all the groceries into Despair's saddlebags. Thankfully those operated on the principle of magic, not physics, or the horse's spectral back would break.

"I assume that wasn't a friend." You spent all the way to the parking lot trying not to look him in the face. The words startled you.

"Hell no. She's a bitch."

"Ah." That was his whole answer. Finally, all the groceries have been stuffed into the magic pocket space. Death turned around, clasped his hands to your waist and lifted you onto the saddle. His movements bore such effortless grace. It happened so many times and you still weren't over how inhumanely strong this man is.

He sat right behind you. You clasped both hands on the saddle's horn, discreetly basking in this soothing feeling that being surrounded by Death's powerful physique gave you.

His torso pressed into your back, his strong thighs almost touching yours. This bliss would never get old.

"You know, I can't help but wonder." Death's deep voice was like a silky needle, injected into your frayed nerves. "Why did you call me this word?"

"It...just felt right", you said, staring at Despair's pointy ears, wreathed with spectral discharge. The horse turned his humongous head as if asking: Can we go now? But your companion wasn't done yet.

"Do you wish for me to take your hand in marriage?"

You almost keeled over.

"Damn, D! Well...I...I don't want to force any more human stuff on you, you know?"

He leaned over; long, black strands of hair grazed your mouth. Death looked you in the face. You'd rather he didn't.

"Do you or do you not?"

"Damn, I do. I'd absolutely love to. But you have to live in this human world with me and you're constantly surrounded by alien stuff and alien customs which don't hold much meaning to you, and that would just be...another one of those things, right?" you murmured, lowering your head.

"I'm surrounded by alien stuff wherever I go", said Death softly. "I don't have a place I'd call home."

"I know! But it's hard!" you admitted. "You're always asking me what is it that I want. But marriage is one of those things that have to be desired by both people equally, or it means nothing..."

You suddenly felt very small and rather sad.

"I don't want you to get entangled in something that you have no use for", you whispered, pinning your eyes to the worn-off leather of the saddle. "Not just for me."

Death didn't answer for a good while. Then his big hand covered yours and squeezed it slightly.

Before you've met him, you always imagined that Death's touch must be freezing cold. That was not true.

"I understand", he said, "and I am grateful for your candour."

He nudged the horse and off you went, both unusually quiet.

#darksiders #darksiders death #death x reader #death/reader #horsemen as boyfriends #marriage is Serious Business y'all #ask answered #anon ask #ask me anything

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tellmealovestory · 4 years

Text

At Last

Summary: requested by @manymanyenvelopes so buck and reader are both avengers and they fell in love after being friends, then they confessed, yada yada, but they didn't immediately have sex, when they initially confessed their feelings, just cause that wasn't important. so now they they are getting closer and further in their relationship and have to deal with the awkwardness of finally sleeping together. even though it's what they both really want, I just imagine there being some hesitancy and awkwardness. maybe one or the other is worried about being disappointing, or they just feel so excited that it's overwhelming?

Notes: Once again I am so sorry that this took me forever! Also posted on my ao3.

Warnings: Swearing, smut, angst if you squint, fluff.

Steady hands.

You tell Bucky one time that's what he has. Countless missions out on the field, enemies rushing at him, friends and strangers counting on him and you’ve never once seen his hands shake. Not so much as a tremor when he’s stitching you up in poorly lit bathrooms in foreign countries after missions gone wrong. Waking from nightmares, breathing heavily, hands that clench around blankets, but still, not so much as a tremble. A confession of feelings and a slew of awkward first dates, the first time he has his hands beneath your shirt exploring new skin and his hands are still steady. It becomes something you're so use to seeing that when you finally do see his hands shake you’re caught off guard.

Laying beneath him on soft sheets in an apartment that’s too small, but it’s yours and it’s homey you’re mesmerized by the way his hand shakes as he helps you out of your shirt. He murmurs a quiet sorry when he sees you staring, presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth before grabbing the pillow by your head.

“Buc-,” you start, but it’s all you get out before his mouth is slanting over yours and swallowing down the last two letters of his name. In the dark recesses of your mind you know that you should talk about this, but he makes it so hard to think when his kisses leave your head spinning and your body yearning for more.

Short nails rake down the back of his neck and he’s groaning into your mouth, the sound sending jolts of need straight to your core. Hitching your leg around his waist to pull him closer you’re left gasping when he breaks the kiss. He gives you enough time to catch your breath and then his mouth is back on yours while the fingertips of his metal hand slowly stroke along your side.

The cool metal is a welcome relief against your heated skin, but you'd be lying if you said it wasn't a little surprising. You can count on one hand the number of times he's used his metal hand on you and though it feels good when it slides further up your side, fingertips brushing along the lace trim fabric of your bra it's still an unusual move from him. Again, you know that you should talk about this, but your mind and body are waging two different wars, torn between talking and giving in to the way that he makes you feel.

Half lidded eyes and you're letting out breathy little pants of anticipation when he kisses his way across your cheek and down your neck. Head tilting to the side, hands roaming over broad shoulders, one flesh and one metal then down the taut muscles of his back. The little grunts he lets out against the crook of your neck spur you on and his name tumbles from wet and swollen lips in a broken chant when he finds your pulse point. Mouth sucking bruises into your skin, light sheen of sweat covering your face and chest, already so close, but it's not close enough. Weight heavy, hand switching to your other breast, mouth moving down to your throat in open mouth kisses.

Muscles ripple beneath roaming hands, his thigh grinds with a little more force against your core and you feel like you're out to sea adrift in a wave of overwhelming pleasure, but the feeling doesn't last.

Sliding his hand from your breast to the curve of your back you're sitting up just enough for him to reach the clasp of your bra. What should take him no more than a few seconds after months of practice has him fumbling tonight. Letting out a quiet fuck he follows it up with another sorry and it's enough for the fog in your mind to clear. The last time you saw him like this was the first time your relationship moved to the physical side, but that was months ago. Lowering your leg from around his waist he shifts his position and your knee jabs him in his rib. Even with his super soldier serum you don't miss the way he hisses or the way his metal fingers unintentionally pinch the skin of your back.

It's a flurry of movement, a chorus of mumbled apologies and quiet reassurances that he's okay, that you're okay, it's you sitting up and swatting his hand away, your fingers rubbing where he pinched you, it's him sitting up on his knees, heat rising to your face and hiding behind your hands. It's silly worries and unfound doubts that flow through your veins and cloud your mind.

"Think the solution is you shouldn't wear bras anymore,” he quips, but the lightheartedness in his voice doesn’t reach his eyes. Hovering over your body he kisses your forehead before murmuring a soft come on and gently pulling your hands away from your face.

“You would suggest that.” Hint of a smile on his face and he’s dipping his head down to kiss you, but it’s not the same. Unlike the long, drawn out kisses of earlier that left you panting and needing him, these kisses are chaste, hesitant almost and unlike earlier when his hands were exploring your body he keeps them steady on the pillows by your head as if he’s afraid of touching you.

Frustration bubbles up and it’s impossible to get lost in his kisses. It feels like each of you are going through the motions, minus the usual love and passion that flows through. It’s not anyone’s fault and logically you know that, but you can’t help feeling as if the reason neither of you seem able to cross this last physical line is somehow because of you.

Mind reeling you barely register the feel of his lips working their way back down your neck in a half hearted attempt to fix this night.

“Buck?”

A warm puff of air and you’re squirming beneath him when his tongue circles over the earlier bruise he left you. Pushing his shoulder he gets the hint, mouth pulling away and he’s staring down at you and licking his lower lip.

“What’s going on?” Your voice comes out softer than you want it to. Arms laying limp at your side, strap of your bra twisted around your shoulder and you don’t miss the subtle way he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion or the pastel pink that blooms onto his cheeks in a blink and you’ll miss it moment, but he covers it all with a quick and charming smile.

“Well,” he drawls, lowering his mouth again, but you turn your head to the side and his lips land on your cheek. “I was tryin’ to make out with my beautiful girlfriend.”

Another time his joke and compliment would have your heart soaring and a smile stretched so wide on your face it would hurt. Another time you'd be laughing, telling him compliments will you get you everywhere, Barnes with an exaggerated wink because you know it makes him laugh. Tonight though his words don't land the same.

Lifting your hand to his cheek, stubble scratching at your palm you search the depths of his blue grey eyes for a clue into what’s going on with him. Coming up empty you struggle to find the right set of words.

“I’m serious, Bucky,” you say softly, fingers stroke along the jaw you’re convinced was sculpted by the gods. "It's okay to be nervous. I know this is a big step for us."

"Who says I'm nervous?" He says it with such confidence that you want to believe him desperately, maybe if you didn't know him as well as you do you would. You've been together long enough to know when he's lying, when he's hiding things from you and you shoot him a withering look, one that leaves him blushing again and lets you both know he's full of shit.

"I don't know," you drawl, borrowing a page from his book. Fingers dance along his chin and when he tilts his head into the palm of your hand you again think about how easy it would be to shelve this conversation and kiss him until your lips are swollen and the only thing on each of your minds is the overwhelming pleasure of being together. "Maybe it has something to do with your hand shaking. Or the way you were barely touching me and when you did touch me you treat me like glass or mayb-"

"That's not it."

You wait a beat for him to elaborate on what it is if he's not nervous, but he stays silent, steely eyes drifting to the headboard. You can practically see the concrete walls going up around him, but you refuse to let him shut you out. Tilting his face back to yours you peck his lips and murmur, "So what is it?"

"It's been awhile."

A heavy sigh tumbles out and you swear your neighbors in the next apartment over can hear it. He rolls off of you and onto his back, legs spread wide and you want to find humor in the way he's stretched out and filling your bed with the pale pink sheets. Missing the weight of him on you and the way his hot skin kept you warm you shiver. Reaching down to cover yourself with one of your discarded shirts or a blanket his words stop you dead in your tracks. A heaviness laces his voice, your heart sinks into your chest and the sound of sheets rustling fills the space as he sits up, back flush against the pile of pillows you insist on keeping at all times. "What if I'm not any good?"

You swear you're going to get whiplash with how quickly you turn to face him. Creases line his forehead, hands ball into fists at his side, shoulders slumped, mouth tilted downward in a frown and all you can manage is to whisper an Oh, Bucky because how could he ever think that? Without giving it a second thought you climb into his lap. Straddling his waist, legs falling open on either side of his thick thighs you cup his cheeks, tilting his face up so he’s forced to look at you.

A whirlwind of thoughts blow through your mind, your mouth closes and opens and you stare down at the man you love trying to find the words that will appease the doubts coursing through his veins.

“Why would you even say something like that?” You blurt. It’s not smooth nor is it close to what you want to say, but your outburst has the barest of smiles curling his lips up.

A lift of his shoulders and you watch the concrete wall fall brick by brick. Neither of you are strangers to the uncomfortable conversations that come with being in a relationship, but that doesn't make them any easier to have.

"'Cause," he mumbles. "Wanna give you everything you deserve, doll. What if after all this time I can't live up to your expectations?" Casting his eyes downward you tilt his head back up refusing to let him hide away from you no matter how painful the conversation gets.

"Oh, Bucky," you say again because there aren’t enough words in any language for you to explain how wrong he is. Kissing his forehead you take your time to gather your thoughts. "Is that what tonight has been about with the," you pause, nodding at his hand and gesturing to your bra, "because you could never disappoint me, James Barnes, okay? We both agreed that waiting was the right choice for us and this idea that after all this time you think I'd have expectations for when we do have sex is ridiculous when you know that's not true, silly boy."

Your words aren't having the effect on him you were hoping for so you kiss his forehead again, the tip of his nose and finally his lips. He doesn't kiss you back. Swallowing your disappointment you try again. “I love you, Bucky and even if our first time together is a disaster like that night in the back of Sam’s car I woul-“

“Jesus, doll,” he groans and you can’t help laughing at the way he’s attempting to frown. “Thought we agreed not to talk about that?”

It’s your turn to shrug your shoulders. For a second you stare down at time caught up in the way your mind is replaying that night. “Anyways,” you carry on as if he hadn’t interrupted, “That night wasn’t our finest, but it didn’t matter in the end and you know why?”

His fingers glide up your side and you take victory in the fact that slowly he’s coming back to you. The tension in his shoulders is loosening, his metal hand uncurling, hint of a sparkle returning to those eyes you love so much. You’re not naive enough to think that one conversation will fix his insecurities, but he’s opening up, relaxing and that’s more than enough for you.

“Why?”

“Because I was with you and that’s all that matters.“

“That right?”

“Mhm.”

“Fuck I don’t deserve you, Y/N.” Wrapping his arm around your waist he buries his head in the crook of your neck. Warm breath and your fingers are carding through his hair. Silence settles in around you, but unlike earlier when it was thick with tension this time it’s thick with love and a new understanding.

“Did you not listen to anything I said, silly boy?” You tease with a sigh and kiss to the top of his head.

“Hard to concentrate when you’ve got your shirt off.”

“Perv.”

This time when he laughs his eyes are full of glitter and crinkles, the sound bouncing around your room and you swear you’ve never seen or heard anything more beautiful in your life.

A glance at the alarm clock he bought for you when you kept oversleeping for important meetings tells you it’s still early for New York. “If we get dressed now we can get ice cream at that place you like so much before they close,” you offer.

“Can think of something better we could do,” he suggests lowly, fingers stroking higher, brushing over the lace side of your bra.

Your breath hitches and your heart jumps at the prospect of his words. It takes all your self control not to jump at his offer. Watching him through half lidded eyes you tease, “Better than ice cream? You sure about that, Barnes?”

“Positive.”

And suddenly you’re not talking about ice cream anymore. A subtle shift in the air above you changing from thick with love to thick with need, bone deep and hair raising you wonder when it happened. After your reassurances? After he cracked a joke? After your sarcastic retort? It's hard to know, but it's there, electricity in the air crackling above you and along with it a sense of excitement at this next step in your relationship.

He can feel it too. Oceanic eyes turning darker, pink tongue wetting lips, fingers going higher still, dancing along the top of your bra. Metal hand holding steady to your waist when your hips accidentally shift downwards earning you a low groan from him.

“We don’t have to,” you whisper because even though he was joking only moments before his touches are still featherlight. And even though his eyes are growing darker, his length growing harder beneath the shifting of your hips you know he’s still hesitant about this. You want to tell him there’s no rush, but he’s tilting his head up and capturing your lips in a kiss that’s as sweet as cotton candy and as gentle as the very first time he kissed you.

Pillow soft lips and his metal hand is guiding the slow movement of your hips. There’s no rush right now and you like it best like this, all long, drawn out kisses and slow touches, each one seeming to whisper I love you into your skin.

Parting your lips he expertly slips his tongue in. Licking into your mouth you’re whining, fingers curling around his hair when you press yourself closer to him.

Nearly out of breath you’re reluctant to break the toe curling kiss even for a second, but when you do your lips don’t stray far from his. A kiss to the corner of his mouth, breath coming out in pants and your hips are grinding down against his with more force.

“What if I want to?” He breaths.

Smiling against his mouth you kiss him again. Reaching behind your back and now you're the one with fumbling hands, but if Bucky notices he doesn't say anything. In a different set of circumstances you can multitask like a champ, but he makes it hard to concentrate when he’s deepening the kiss.

A muffled moan, fingers falling from your back and your senses are consumed with the way he tastes like cinnamon and how he smells like your warm vanilla body wash he says he never uses. A plea balances itself on the tip of your tongue and you want to beg him to let you get your bra off, but he’s kissing his way across your burning cheek and down your neck. The previous task at hand forgotten about until he murmurs a cheeky, "Need some help with that?"

Mind thick with a hazy layer of fog, underwear growing damper, pit of your stomach burning with the need to have more of him you prepare to answer, but he drags his mouth down your neck to that one spot that always leaves you a gasping, needing mess.

"Well?" He prompts, teeth nipping at your sweaty skin and for a moment you can't remember what he’s asking about. Hand resting on his shoulder, nails digging into his flesh you whine. His metal hand drags along the curve of your back, fingers toying with the clasp of your bra and you're trying to break through your lust addled mind enough to remove the stupid thing. For a second you entertain the thought of his earlier solution to just not wear a bra, it'd make it a lot easier to get undressed in situations like these.

Dragging his nose along the column of your throat you let out pathetic little mewls and gasps as you swat his hand away. "I've got it," you gasp and you hope that you do because your'e not sure how much longer you can handle his teasing touches and tempting kisses. In a flash the garment is unclasped, straps hanging loose on your shoulders and you swear to god your heart is about to burst out of your chest with the gentle way that he slides the thin straps down your arms before tossing it aside. You flashback to the first time that you found yourselves in this position and you marvel at how far you’ve both come. For a second everything is still. His chest glistening with sweat rises and falls, his lips pink and swollen from the long kisses, his eyes as dark as the night sky shift between your own that you know must be just as dark, down to your own swollen lips, to the bruises that he left down to your chest, nipples already hard and begging to be touched.

"Y/N," he breaths and you swear that your heart really does burst because he says your name like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen even though he's seen you shirtless more times than you can count. "Fuck, doll."

You want to tell him, no, beg him to touch you, to please, please touch you, but you can't get a word in when his hands fall to the back of your thighs and in a quick burst of confidence you haven't seen from him since the night began he rolls you onto your back. A surprise gasp at the new position soon turns into a breathless plea for more when the pads of his thumb brush across your nipples. Reaching out for him your hands land on his biceps, nails digging in, head tilting back into your soft pillows, eyes fluttering shut when he leans down to press a kiss to your jaw. "Keep going, Bucky," you urge breathlessly because even with the brief glimpse of your confident Bucky you know in the featherlight way his thumbs are circling over your nipples that he's still nervous about this next step. "Bucky, please."

"Please what?" he murmurs, the words sounding more sinful than sweet when he presses a quick kiss to your collarbone before dragging his mouth down to the tops of your breasts. Squirming beneath him and panting a light sheen of sweat coats the back of your neck and you can't remember ever being so needy or desperate to have him. Your hands fly to his hair when his mouth envelopes your breast, teeth grazing across your nipple and you're hissing at the hint of a sting, but he soothes it with his tongue. Metal hand massaging your other breast and the contrast between cool and smooth and his warm and wet mouth has you arching your back and yanking on his hair. Cradling the back of his head you pathetically lift your hips up in search of some form of friction. A muffled groan from him and a lazy smile is curling up your lips because you know how much he loves when you tug on his hair.

"God, Bucky," you gasp and you're amazed you're able to get those two words out. "Feels... oh really good." The next set of words are harder to get out, but you swear when the praises tumble out his cheeks are turning pink and he's working even harder to bring you the most pleasure he can with his mouth. And, oh, how he can bring you to the brink with just his mouth. The thought alone has you panting and threading fingers through his hair and when his mouth pulls away from your breast with a quiet pop you think he must be able to hear how loud your heart is beating when he offers you the sweetest smile, eyes locking on yours as he kisses his way down your stomach.

Unlike earlier when his hands shook trying to take your bra off this time they’re steady against the zipper and button of your jeans. A tug and he's pulling them off, underwear following close behind and you're left to wonder if he's gaining his confidence back or if more likely this is such a familiar position that it’s second nature to him.

Skimming his fingers along the inside of your thighs your breath catches in your throat. Staring up at him with a hammering heart and half lidded eyes you're torn between letting him take his time and begging him to touch you. Wetness pools between your thighs and the fire in your belly burns hotter the longer his eyes rake over you.

"Buc-"

"I know, doll," he croons, but his words do little to ease the desire coursing through you. "Just let me look." A murmur, a whisper of a kiss against your lips, fingertips ghosting higher and he's so close, but again, it's not close enough. "You're so beautiful."

Tips of his fingers spread your slickness around and you’re clawing at his biceps while panting in anticipation. Taking his time he kisses you, teeth nipping at your lower lip, middle finger slipping past wet folds and you're moaning in relief as he's groaning into your open mouth. "So wet for me." A rush of warm breath against your already scorched face and you’re tangling a hand in his hair, hips tilting upward in a silent plea for a little more. He gets the hint, second finger sliding in, lingering kiss to your jaw and he's talking again, but it's hard to focus on the low timbre of his voice when all you can focus on is the slow pull and drag of his fingers against the heat of your core. "That feels good, doesn't it?"

You want to answer him, but when you open your mouth to speak all that comes out is a low pitched whine, but it's enough of an answer for him. Grin stretched wide across his face he kisses your shoulder, pad of his thumb rubbing tight circles over your clit and you're melting into your bedsheets and falling under his spell.

"Bet I can make it feel even better." A kiss to your collarbone and you can't be sure, but you think you respond with a please, the sound becomes muffled around his throaty laugh and the rustling of sheets. "That what you want? For me to make it feel better?"

Again, you can't answer, but he doesn't press you to and you want to tell him how much you love him for that, but the words are lodged in the back of your throat. Settling himself between your thighs like it’s his home he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh and you're tossing your head back when the stubble of his beard rubs over your skin. One hand on the back of his head urging him closer and the other is tangled around sheets that are becoming damp with sweat and arousal. Your hips tilt upwards and this time when you part your lips the words do manage to come.

"B-Bucky..."

Leaning up on elbows your eyes nearly roll back when you catch sight of him between your thighs. Hair a mess, cheeks flushed your favorite shade of pink, fingers still dragging through your folds as his mouth teases your inner thighs you swear to god you've never seen him look more attractive before. His shoulders are fully relaxed, his attention on you and only you and you take pride in the fact that he's slowly gaining his confidence back after the mishaps of earlier. Your heart is working overtime and you swear if he doesn't stop teasing you're going to combust and it's not an exaggeration. Carding your fingers through his hair you encourage him quietly to keep going, but he needs no encouragement when he replaces his fingers with his tongue without warning.

"Jesus!" You cry, body falling backwards with a flop. "Oh fuck." A string of obscenities follow soon after and you're not sure what you're blurting, all you know is that it feels good. Really good when his tongue delves between your soaking folds and you never want him to stop. Bucking your hips up you clench your eyes shut as his mouth latches onto your clit.

Moaning against your core the vibrations send your back arching and there’s nothing sexier than knowing he’s getting pleasure from getting you off.

Grinding his hips into your bed for relief against his straining erection he curls his hand around your thigh, pulling his mouth back enough to press a teasing kiss to your sensitive bud. The fire in your stomach burns hotter when he draws you closer to his mouth, tongue swirling over your sensitive bud leaving you gasping and crying out, “Don’t stop!”

Two fingers slip in, curling in a come hither motion and he takes your clit back into his mouth sucking harshly. Digging his fingers into the soft flesh of your thigh you roughly shove his face closer to your dripping core as you continue to buck your hips up.

“Jesus, Buck,” you choke, fisting the bedsheets. Your mouth drops open when he adds a third finger, sliding it in deep and hitting that one spot that has you seeing stars behind your eyes. “Shit, yes, right there, god Bucky, right there!” Gasping for breath and with tears threatening to spill at the overwhelming pleasure you know you’re not going to last much longer.

“I know you’re close, doll,” he rasps and you swear the tone, so reminiscent of his throaty morning voice that you love hearing is enough to push you over. “Let go for me. Show me how good I’m making you feel.”

A warning on the tip of your tongue, but it’s lost to the chants of his name and the endless stream of oh god, Bucky’s. An arch of your back, sweat dripping down your neck, fingers clutching to his hair, hips bucking upwards and the fire in your stomach is a full blown inferno when your release hits you full force. It’s intense and you’re not sure if it’s because of his talented mouth or the earlier conversation that drew you closer to one another. Either way you’re left panting and shoving his head and fingers away when the sensitivity becomes too much and he doesn’t know when to stop.

Moaning he swipes his tongue through your folds one last time, lapping at your release before sitting back on his knees to watch you come down from your high. Release coating his beard and chin, hair sticking up haphazardly, erection straining against his jeans he crawls his way up your body littering your sweaty skin with gentle kisses and nips as he goes.

“That good, huh, sweetheart?” He teases at your blissed out state. A lazy and satisfying smile curves your lips up. Tilting your head you kiss him softly. The taste of you lingers on his plump lips and warm tongue.

Taking a moment to bask in the afterglow your body thrums with excitement the closer you each get to finally being together. “It’s always good with you,” you whisper in between kisses, adding, "This is going to be good too." Because you can see the tension finding its way back into his shoulders. It’s the last thing you want after what just took place and the confidence he had shown.

Resting your fingers on the top of his jeans you pause only for a second when you hear his breath hitch. A nod from him and you’re undoing his button, tugging the zipper down and slipping your hand beneath the waistband of his boxers. Hot, thick and throbbing you both moan when your hand wraps around him.

A gentle stroke, a choked moan from him and he's yanking his pants down so quickly you want to tease him about being eager, but he's moaning again, eyes fluttering shut and you're too distracted with seeing him get lost in the pleasure to do much more than pull his boxers down to join his pants around his knees.

"How's that?" You ask, punctuating your words with a gentle squeeze.

Head dropping into the crook of your neck, hot breath panting, hips thrusting into your hand as his metal hand finds purchase amongst your pillows. "Fuck," he grunts, struggling to get the one word out. "Doll... you gotta... fuck, Y/N, you gotta slow down or this is gonna be over soon."

Biting your lip and nodding your head you slow your pace, but keep your hand wrapped around his length as your thumb brushes across his tip.

"Yeah, better," he chokes out. Sucking in a breath he pulls his head away from your neck. "Gotta... hold on." And it's such a contrast from moments ago, gone is your confident Bucky who touched you like a man who knew exactly where to touch you to make you see stars, who knew exactly how to kiss you until you were breathless and dizzy. In his place is the Bucky of earlier, all fumbling hands as he tugs his jeans and boxers from his thighs, kicking them off the bed. He offers you a shy smile, cheeks bursting with pink and you can't help thinking of how the theme of the night has been two steps forward and one step back.

You'd do anything to help ease his nerves and show him how his darkest thoughts and fears of not being good enough for you are bullshit. Removing your hand from his length you sit up, cringing as you shift over the dampness of your sheets. Keeping your voice quiet you ask, "Do you want me to be on top?" The relief that floods his face before he tries to cover it up has a crack forming in your heart, but your core clenches when he nods his head and you again find yourself in a battle of wills between knowing that you should talk about this and giving into the pleasure that's only moments away.

Limbs tangle together and get caught up in twisted and balled sheets, you bite back a giggle when his toe catches the corner of your sheet and he’s sprawling on his back. It’s easy to forget that he’s a trained assassin when he looks so helpless trying to lay down. Readjusting so his head is propped up against your pillows and his thighs are spread you swallow down the mixture of nerves and excitement pooling in the pit of your stomach.

Cupping his cheek you kiss him softly, thumb brushing across his jaw you will him to relax as you deepen the kiss. “Ready?”

“For you to do all the work? Yeah.” Cheeky smile and you’re laughing against his mouth and kissing him once more.

Memories of kneeing him in the ribs are only too fresh in your mind and after coming so far tonight you’re extra careful when you straddle his waist. Wrapping your hand around the base of him you glide his tip through your wet folds. The groans he’s letting out at the barest hint of contact between your bodies has your walls clenching and your mouth watering. His fists clench by his side and his eyes are slamming shut as you slowly lower yourself down taking him inch by inch.

No stranger to the girth or length of him from the countless times you've had him in your hand and mouth it still doesn't prepare you for the near unbearable sting as he stretches you. Hands fly to his chest, nails digging crescent shapes into his skin and you've only sunk halfway down.

"Fuck," he moans, dragging the syllables out. Flesh hand hesitantly moving to your hip, fingers stroking your skin and you can tell it's taking all his self control not to slam his hips upwards.

Sinking down another couple of inches and you're reminding yourself to breathe and relax, but it's easier said than done. Tearing your eyes away from his you glance down to his chest, red from your nails clawing at him down to where your bodies are connected and he’s disappearing into you. A strangled moan leaves your mouth and you swear you're going to leave his chest torn open and bleeding by the time you finally take all of him.

Forceful grip on your hip and he’s letting out low grunts that you swear are going to be the death of you. “Y/N,” he chokes out, head slamming back against your pillow. “Sweetheart, fuck you’re tight.”

Breathing heavily you take a second to admire him. The flushed and sweaty cheeks, his parted lips, the half lidded eyes, the whir of his metal hand still clenching and unclenching by his side. The filth that’s spewing from his mouth and the sinful noises he’s making spur you on, lowering yourself down until he‘s fully sheathed inside you. He stretches you in a way no man has before, filling you to the brim and it’s delicious.

“Buck,” you gasp, taking a beat to get used to the fullness.

The pain still lingers when you slowly lift your hips up and lower yourself back down, but the way he moans makes it worth it. "How's that?" You ask again, setting a slow pace as you splay your hands across his broad and sweaty chest.

Skimming his hand along the curve of your hip he grunts. Hesitantly, he thrusts his hips up and the pleasure that shoots through you has you chanting a string of broken yes.

“You like that?”

Unable to answer you nod your head frantically and he does it again, the second time feeling even better. “Feels so good, you feel so good. Keep going, god keep going, Buck.” Babbling nonsensical words and tossing your head back you roll your hips against his, nails sinking back into his chest as the pleasure begins to overwhelm you.

Grunting, his metal hand crawls up up your stomach, thumb brushing across nipples. “Y/N,” he moans, eyes slamming shut, “Come on, need you to move those hips a little faster for me, sweetheart.”

His words have your walls fluttering and you pick up the pace with his help. Arching your back you can't believe how good it feels to have him inside of you. Thick and pulsing you feel every vein and ridge bumping against your walls, spurring you on, but even though it feels good you need just a little more.

“Touch me,” you plead, words drifting out amid the rhythmic creaking bed and headboard bumping against the wall no doubt annoying your neighbors.

He doesn’t need to be told twice and though his hand doesn’t shake his touch is still featherlight when he slips a hand between your sweating bodies to stroke your clit.

Your thighs begin to burn from the exertion and punishing pace you’ve set, but you push the thought to the back of your mind when Bucky’s thumb circles your clit with more pressure and the fire in your belly stirs hotter.

“Just like that, Bucky,” you praise, breasts bouncing as you rock your hips faster against his. “I’m so close. Just a little more.”

“Gonna spend the rest of the night buried in you.” Sitting up and wrapping his arm around your waist the quick movement and new position has you crying out. “Fuck we got a lotta missed time to make up for.”

Bodies slick with sweat and neither of you can keep your hands or mouths off one another. Sloppy kisses and even sloppier thrusts as you each near the end.

“B-Buck!” you cry out, hands clawing at his shoulders and clutching to his short hair in a desperate bid to hold on to something, to anything.

The fire burns into an inferno and with a strangled cry you’re struggling to keep up the pace enough for him to reach his own release. A flash of white bursts behind your eyes and you’re reduced to nothing more than loose limbs and gasps of his name as you coax him to let go.

“Y/N,” he growls, hips faltering, body growing tense and he’s letting go, teeth sinking into your shoulder he struggles to contain the moans and grunts he’s letting loose.

Without the sounds of your moans and his filthy words, the headboard bumping against the wall and the bed creaking your room is eerily silent save for your ragged breaths.

Slumping against his chest he’s the first to break through the silence when he lets out a breathless love you, following it up with a kiss to your shoulder where his teeth had been only moments before. Dragging his nose across your collarbone and up your throat you hum at the gentleness that accompanies his movements.

"I love you too." Whispered words that are second nature spill from your mouth. Another hum, body shifting over his in an attempt to get off, but he's pulling you impossibly closer, muffled whine escaping his lips. Thighs burning, body sticky with sweat and your releases, you know that you need to go to the bathroom, get cleaned up, but when his mouth searches yours out in a drawn out kiss you forget about all of that as he pulls you back under.

"It was okay?" He breaths, fingertips stroking across your lower back, painting your sweaty skin with words of love and you find it endearing how after everything that's happened he's still uncertain.

"It was perfect, Buck, you were perfect." Pushing a sweaty lock of hair away from his eyes your lips land on his forehead and you take an extra moment to bask in the way that it feels to be wrapped up in his arms after your first time together. The stress and anxiety that led up to his moment are gone and in their place is a sense of calm and love. "But I really need you to let me go because I have to go to the bathroom," you whine, hips shifting over his as your hands loosen their hold from around his shoulders. The peaceful afterglow is shattered with your laugh and his groan, but you like it best like this, when his guard is down and he's relaxed.

"Go," he murmurs, stealing another kiss that for a second makes you think about staying like this for another few minutes, but he's loosening his hold, yawn escaping from him and you know if you don't leave now your resolve will crumble and you will spend the rest of the night like this.

Climbing off his lap you pick up a pile of clothes not caring or knowing who they truly belong to as you head to the bathroom to get cleaned up. Exhaustion nips at your limbs, the emotional turmoil of the night taking its toll on you and by the time you finish cleaning up and head back to your room you're met with the sight of Bucky on his back, sheets pulled to his waist, snoring quietly. You watch him for a minute, the way sleep has come easy to him tonight and you make a mental note to continue the conversation in the morning. Climbing into bed next to him you kiss his cheek, smiling when he doesn't so much as stir before curling into his side and letting sleep overtake you as well.

Tags;

@breakfast-at-kelseys

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #my writing

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wlwhovian · 3 years

Text

Lost

Thirteenth Doctor/Reader

Word count: 2119 Genre: Whump & hurt/comfort Summary: You’d hoped she’d be here by now. No Doctor and no TARDIS, you find yourself lost in the middle of nowhere with nothing and no one to turn to. Usually it would be fine, only the forest has things hiding in it that you would rather not meet face-to-face. You just hope the Doctor finds you in time. Warnings: Big bugs

It’s getting dark.

You shiver as the cold settles in futher, a chill running down your spine, and try to keep your teeth from chattering as you huddle up, trying to reserve what body heat you still have left.

You’ve managed to find an alcove in one of the trees that succesfully blocks most of the wind, but every now and then when the breeze picks up, it seems to puncture your meager shelter like paper. The forest is silent, save for stray critters skittering around, looking for food, and your own heavy breathing. You blow air into your freezing palms and rub them together. Fuck, it’s cold.

It’s been hours now. There’s no sign of the Doctor, or the TARDIS, and their striking absence is slowly forcing you to consider the chance that maybe she’s not coming, and if that really is the case, then you can’t afford to stay here and wait, slowly freezing to death. No, you have to do something. Right now. What that is, though, you aren’t so sure. Shelter is pretty high on the list of priorities, and you kick yourself for not thinking about any of this earlier, because now the sun is well past setting and finding anything useful will be, if not impossible, very, very difficult. Not to mention that you’d have to leave your meager cover and exchange it’s relative safety for a temperature that’s dropping lower by the second.

You think, once again, how the Doctor told you to stay close, to not get separated, to stay with the bloody group, but here you are all on your lonesome, lost in the middle of the woods. You just can’t listen, can you? You never can. And this time, it just might be the slow, unforgiving death of you.

You jump when something cracks in the distance. You quiet your breathing and try to remain as still as humanly possible, but you can’t keep your hands from trembling, and proceed to stuff them under your arms with a curse under your breath. You’re not sure if it’s the sudden surge of adrenaline or if it’s just the fucking cold.

You can see movement beyond a fallen tree, about ten feet away from where you’re hiding, and your stomach lurches when you get a better look at the source of the noise. It’s not the Doctor. It’s not even humanoid.

Halfway hidden by the treeline you can see a lengthy arching back, covered in some kind of plating, and what looks like dozens of little wiggling legs. Well, little might be an understatement. Try something more like the size of your forearm. They all move in unison with a thick, wet, squelching sound that makes your stomach turn. It slithers over the fallen tree, landing with a soft thump against the ground, and in the encroaching darkness you can see a pair of antennae wiggling in the air as it takes in it’s surroundings. When it gets closer you manage to get a better look and you can tell the creature is, in fact, a massive centipede, and it is headed right towards you with an uncanny determination that makes you wonder if it already knows you’re there. You need to run. Or hide. Anything. You can’t just sit here, for fuck’s sake! You shift your position against the tree, preparing to crawl through the foliage, or run for your life if you have to.

Your heart skips a beat when the ground crumbles under your foot and a whole patch of earth comes loose, sending gravel flying down the hill, cascading over the centipede in rock-hard rain. It turns it’s head on the spot and lets out a deafening screech that forces you to clamp your hands over your ears. The creature shoots towards you at an absurd speed, tiny legs shifting and scuttling and you back away as far as you can, but as your back hits solid stone, you have no choice but to admit that you’re trapped. You cover your face as the centipede rears up, throwing half it’s body in the air, and roars, slathering you in thick, gooey spit that smells like gasoline and spoiled food. You try to breathe in, but the air is heavy with the odour and your chest keeps tightening, like your lungs are being held hostage by your own ribs. You let out one final cry, a little high pitched hiccup, before the creature descends upon you, ready to rip you into shreds.

A flash of light. An electronic whirring. Very potent cursing spiced with a strong Yorkshire accent, followed by another screech from the insect before it crawls away into the distance. Hurried footsteps.

Something heavy and soft is dropped on your shoulders, and you dig deep into the warmth like your life depends on it. A hand lands on your shoulder, but you can’t bear to look up. Your neck is frozen in place, and you sit there, violently shivering, your entire body shaking with uncontrollable tremors. You hear rustling, before your head is gently guided towards someone’s chest, where it is held by a soft, warm hand. You try to breathe in, and listen to their heartbeat. Heartbeats. Plural.

”Doctor?” you manage to mumble, words coming out in a thick slur.

”Shh,” she says, and runs a hand through your sweat-soaked hair. ”It’s alright.” She bends down until her face is in right in front of yours, offering you a sympathetic smile. ”I’ve got you.”

A choked sob escapes from your lips, but it turns into a frenzied gasp that leaves you dry-heaving, and as you weakly nod in confirmation, your head lurches forwards. The Doctor grabs your shoulders and lets you rest in the crook of her neck, where you allow yourself to close your eyes for a moment. It doesn’t help though, because no matter how much you try to make yourself calm down, how many times you try to get yourself to just breathe, air refuses to enter your lungs and you’re left to claw at your throat with feeble, trembling hands.

The Doctor takes your hand in hers and gives it a squeeze, before she presses it against her lips. The simplicity of the intimacy in the gesture makes you press yourself tighter against her, as if you could burrow into her, somewhere she could always keep you safe.

”It’ll be okay. Promise,” she says. Her voice is strained and her brow is furrowed, and she looks so awfully sad that you want to kick yourself for not being able to do anything about it. ”You’re in shock. We need to get you somewhere warm and safe, ok? The TARDIS is just around the corner, we’ll be there in no time.” She pauses. ”Are you hurt?”

You shake your head what meager amount you can.

”Right. That’s good. Proper good.”

You wait for a moment, trying to get the words straight in your head before you try and actually speak them aloud. The Doctor’s chest rises and falls, and you try to focus on the motion instead of the swimming in your head. Eventually, you finally manage to open your mouth despite your tongue feeling dry as sand. ”I’m sorry.”

It’s such a small sentence, only two words, and yet, saying it feels like climbing a whole slew of mountains.

The Doctor shimmies you around until she has you in what she deems an acceptable grip, before rising to her feet, with you carefully secured against her. She takes a few tentative steps before settling into a steady walking pace. Once she’s sure that she’s not going to drop you, she looks down and makes sure she catches your eye. ”None of that now, love. There’s nothin’ to be sorry for.”

Her voice is so gentle, steady like a rock in the middle of a raging sea, that it makes you want to cry. You try to make yourself as small as possible, but all your extremities are numb and you’re not sure if moving would only make it harder for the Doctor to carry you. There’s a weight in your eyelids that’s getting harder and harder to resist, and you have to fight a losing battle to keep them from shutting.

The Doctor takes notice, and offers you an encouraging smile. ”Don’t you go fallin’ asleep on me just yet.” She speeds up to a jog, and you do your best to hold on to her shoulders, but your fingers keep slipping and your hands shake so bad that you can barely get them moving. ”We’re almost there.” She glances a the forest in front of you, before muttering under her breath: ”Really should’ve parked closer.”

You swear you had only closed your eyes for a second, but suddenly you’re being engulfed by the light flowing from the TARDIS, and Graham is ushering the two of you inside. The doors shut with a slam, and when your whole body is drowning in warmth and silken light, you find the world slipping away as deep, comforting darkness takes over.

You awaken to a great, throbbing headache and the scent of raspberries. It smells like safety, like home and saturday mornings spent with a cup of tea, and you let yourself bask in the quiet for a moment. Opening your eyes, you can immediately tell that you’re in your own bedroom, with the lights dimmed and softly playing music easing you back into the waking world. You’ve been stuffed under several thick blankets, but there’s still a persistent chill somewhere deep under your skin. You try taking a deep breath, and this time your chest rises and falls just as it should. The scent of raspberries only gets stronger with each draw of air.

”Gave us quite the scare, you did.”

You jump, but under the heavy weight, nobody but you can probably tell. You turn your head, wincing as pain shoots down your neck, and end up face to face with the Doctor. She’s sitting cross legged in a chair drawn up next to your bed from it’s usual place, holding what looks to be a cheap erotic romance novel, and a cup of tea in her hand. That explains the smell, at the very least.

You sigh. ”I’m sorry,” you say, eyes strictly trained on the frayed edge of the blanket. The Doctor places the book down on the armrest, before turning to fully face you.

”There you go again,” she says with a lop-sided smile. ”With the sorries and the apologies. I told you,” she pauses as she shifts to hold her cup more securely, ”You’ve nothin’ to be sorry for. Pinkie swear.” She holds out her little finger and you take it with yours. ”Unless you try to get up before you’re ready, in which case I’ll have no choice but to detain you.”

”Detain me?” you ask with a snort.

”Made you laugh,” the Doctor says, smiling mischieviously. You throw one of your pillows at her.

”Oh, shut up.”

”I’m serious!” she says. ”Bedrest is nothin’ to be laughed at, you know. Plenty of things get much better by having a lie down.”

”You’re one to talk. The last time I saw you in bed was probably two weeks ago.”

”But I’m not human, am I?”

You look away, sheepish. ”No.”

”And humans need their rest. Lots of it.”

”Fine,” you say, rolling your eyes. ”Have it your way.”

The Doctor grins at you. ”That’s more like it.” She drains her cup and stands up, giving her back a hefty stretch. ”You just try and sleep, alright? Doctor’s orders.” She turns to leave, and you find your hand shooting out from beneath the blankets to hold hers. The Doctor turns, surprised and a little confused. You can’t make yourself look her in the eye.

”Could you stay with me?” you ask, and you can already feel heat creeping up your neck, covering your cheeks in a flush. A second passes by. To you, it’s one too many, and you draw your hand back to where it was, an apology already on your lips, before the Doctor interrupts you.

”Of course.”

You’re not really sure what you expected, but upon being granted your request, you’re not sure what to do. The Doctor grins. ”Do you want me to hop on the bed too, or should I stay in me chair? I could read you this literary masterpiece,” she says, gesturing at the book that’s still open on the armrest.

”Come here?” you ask, your voice quiet and shy. The Doctor beams. She picks up the book and crawls over you, so that she’s leaning against the wall, her legs crossed on top of you.

”Right! Alright, so, in the previous chapter..”

You try to listen. You really, really do, but the comforting narration of the Doctor combined with the abysmal plot of the book has you falling back asleep in minutes. The last thing you remember before nodding off is her taking your hand in hers, holding it carefully as she lightly draws circles on your skin with her thumb. You only wonder how you ever got this lucky.

#thirteenth doctor x reader #13th doctor x reader #whump #doctor who #hurt/comfort #this is just a 2k words long excuse to be weak and get carried by the doctor

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wolfpupp · 3 years

Link

Writing prompt: Autumn

Rating: M

Summary: It's autumn in the Bavarian Forest and Zemo is accompanied by a special guest for a tea ceremony and an intimate encounter.

Their path is obscured by a thick blanket of leaves that feels soft and welcoming underfoot. A gentle breath of autumn stirs them to dance — bright yellow sycamore, brilliant red maple and burnt orange ash swirl together and lift upward, touching the bark of their host trees with what feels like reverence and a bittersweet goodbye. The air is crisp and the afternoon sky is blue as a turquoise sea. As they walk hand in hand, she considers the sad pangs of autumn, which remind her that moments are brief — fleeting, and the passage of time slows for no one in the tumult of the world. She squeezes her baron’s hand just a little bit harder as an anxiousness creeps into her mind and works at the hairs on the back of her neck. Like all things and the seasons, these moments, too, shall end.

Helmut darts her a glance and a half-smile. “Everything alright, golubica?” He asks, returning the squeeze of her hand with one of his own.

“Yeah, of course,” she says, coaxing a full smile and a sparkling laugh that’s conjured by the butterflies in her stomach when he calls her dove in his native tongue. Her eyes glance over to find his, and she can’t help but feel as though their chestnut irises are auras against the landscape. It’s as though he embodies autumn with his warm stare and the golden-brown of his carefully groomed hair. His complexion is pale, but his brow is dark and defined; his lips, a line like a quiet and easy stream that hides unexpected depth and danger.

The Bavarian Forest is a mysterious, old and magical place — one that she never expected to see with him. She wonders how long the fantasy will last before he’s wrenched from her once again and thrust back into the consequences of his decisions. For now, though, they stroll — their boots pushing against the soft surface of the earth, and the ends of their coats tapping together in harmony.

“We’ll stop just up here,” he points to a small clearing encircled by spruce and fir trees.

In response, she shifts the pack on her shoulder and brushes errant hairs that the forest air has encouraged in front of her eyes. It’s clear that he’s been to this place before, and she wonders about with whom.

When they reach the clearing, it becomes obvious that although remote, it’s a known spot for passers-through. There is a variety of large rocks scattered throughout that have been flattened over time by the resting hides of previous visitors, probably over the course of many centuries.

Helmut hastens his pace ahead of her and sweeps over a few spots with his feet until the sole of his boot finds a ring of stones that at one time housed a campfire. He smiles with satisfaction, and gestures to her to approach and sit. He offloads the pack from his own shoulder and motions for the one that she carries. As he starts to build a tidy fire, she pulls her coat around her more tightly against the cooling of the late afternoon.

The sun filters its rays through swaying branches and sharp pine leaves, and it’s as though she watches him through a lens that progressively moves him farther and farther from her. His movements are calculated and meaningful; his fingers drift over the tea kettle, spoons, scoops and mugs like a composer’s. He is quiet as he works while they are serenaded by birds and an orchestra of air movement amid creaking bark, vines and leaves.

“Hela?” She starts, almost immediately remorseful. He hums at her in acknowledgment because he knows what she’s going to ask.

“Never mind, it’s not important,” she returns, and he pours boiling water from the kettle into a humble teapot over strong black tea.

Helmut returns to a standing position and rubs his hands together, looking skyward and scanning their surroundings for the first time since they arrived.

“I love this time of year,” he says. As he paces, lost in thought, the smoke of the fire and the steam of the tea rise and whirl about him as the hem of his open wool coat coaxes the elements into a choreographed ballet. Everything is in motion, and he becomes more than Baron Helmut Zemo. He is everything rich and ancient in the world — an alchemist, a conjurer, a druid, a seer, a Byzantine warrior, a Slavic fire god.

Returning to his task, he rinses the tea, replaces it in the pot with fresh boiling water, and allows it to steep for a few moments before adding mint and sugar. When he is satisfied, he pours the brew into two mugs. He stokes their little campfire before joining her on the flat rock that she selected as a seat. His leg presses against hers and he hands her the steaming elixir, which hits her senses with a recollection of something far away and unfamiliar — like a memory she could only understand in a dream.

He brushes her hair aside and contemplates her profile as she stares down into her tea mug.

“You are sad today,” he says.

She takes a sip of the tea and gazes out on the clearing before turning to meet the moon of his face, which is only inches from hers. Her eyes dart about, locating their favorite points — his lashes, the circles under his eyes that are just a little darker in the waning sun, the spread of his nose and cheeks, his clenched jawline.

“Sometimes, I don’t think I know who you are,” she says quietly, reaching up with a tea-warmed hand and touching at the flesh of his cheek.

He leans closer and rests his lips on hers. His touch is light and velvety, and she applies the tiniest bit of pressure to feel their heat. A desire begins to cut into her gut and work at the space between her thighs because like the fire, forest, smoke and ash, she moves at his command.

She pulls away to take another large draught of tea, allowing the mint and sugar to wash into her mouth and flavor her tongue. She rests the mug beside her and swivels to straddle his lap. He sets his own mug aside and weaves his hands into her coat. Leaning in slowly, she opens her mouth against him and the flavors of their lips meld — sweet herbaceousness and the bitter, primeval taste of the tea. In her mind and on the wind, she can hear music, a brooding lament invoked by the sounds of tagelharpa, drums, flutes and voices that she doesn’t know and can’t understand.

He presses against her center, eager to feel her warmth and lust, and he kisses her neck as his hands snake under her clothes to find the flesh of her breasts. She exhales forcefully as her eyes flutter closed and he watches her face as it turns from tempered delight to shameless yearning.

The campfire warms her back and she considers what it would feel like to be lost, naked and ensnared with him in the forest’s embrace.

“What did you want to ask me,” he whispers at her, his hot breath raising gooseflesh on her arms.

She pauses, her hands falling to his sides and pushing precisely against the muscles and sinew under his sweater.

“You’ve been to this place before,” she says.

“Yes,” he replies, studying her, awaiting her follow-up. As he does so, his fingers tighten on the insides of her thighs, and she shifts distractedly. “With my wife,” he continues.

She trembles slightly against her uncertainty, wanting and the approach of evening, and he takes her face in his hands. She makes to speak, but he quiets her. Sparks from the fire reach into the air and throw stars into the black mirrors of his eyes. Her heart strikes hard and she fights back emotion by closing her eyes and taking a deep breath of the late autumn evening on this, their forest walk.

“But it was never like this,” he whispers against the curve of her ear. Her hands tighten around his biceps because she aches to hear it. “Not like with you.”

#zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #zemo x female reader #zemo x oc #fanfiction #zemo fanfiction #zemo fanfic #autumn #writing prompt #marvel #this is a personal fantasy why not share it with the world

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obx-saltlife · 4 years

Text

French Inhale

summary: you and jj share an intimate moment (and then some) after a particularly instense smoking sesh.

warnings: smoking (weed and a lot), smut, underage drinking and smoking, cursing. I guess it’s a friends to lovers kind of thing, it’s implied anyway.

2.1K, JJ x reader (contains smut)

“That was hot,” JJ Maybank laughed through his words.

His once bright eyes were now hooded and carried that sort of trademark redness you’ve come to know very well. Everyone in the makeshift circle waited patiently as you took another drag from the blunt in front of you. You kept the smoke in your cheeks for a brief second. Your mouth opened at one corner slightly; the thick, white, smoke making its way out slowly through the small opening. Your eyes closed and you inhaled through your nose, pulling off the perfect French Inhale once again. It’d been a while since you’d sat down with the rest of the Pogues to enjoy a blunt or two but it seemed like the perfect time to do it again. Summer was just beginning and if the conversations before this little get-together were anything to go by, you were seriously considering sticking to John B’s idea of having a “good time, all the time”.

The party at The Boneyard had long since thinned out, with most of the Kooks gone on to find something else; another party, probably and the Tourons too drunk to do much of anything. You and the Pogues made your way back to The Chateau, trying to burn off some more of the party energy still coursing through your veins. That’s how you ended up in the makeshift circle in the first place. It’d definitely been a while since you’d let completely loose and tonight felt like as good a night as any. Joining Kie, John B, Sarah, JJ and Pope as they passed the blunt around just felt like second nature.

The blunt made its way around the circle once more. You took a long drag this time, inhaling it deep in your lungs as you closed your eyes once again. You passed it to your left as you felt the smoke swirling around in your chest and leeching to your bloodstream. Rocking your head back, with a lazy laugh, you exhaled, blowing a large cloud of smoke into the night.

When you looked back around the people gathered in front of you, John B and Sarah were mouth to mouth; the smoke passing between them in an intimate exchange. You couldn’t look away, the mix of the intimate display in front of you and the beginning of the drug in your system made you tingle all over.

You felt eyes on you, a little across the way. It felt different than the regular paranoia that usually accompanied your smoking adventures. Across the circle, JJ’s eyes locked with yours. He didn’t dare look away, almost proud that he had been caught staring. A small smirk spread on his lips. He was passed the blunt once more and he took it expertly between his fingers, his blue eyes still locked on yours. He looked to the ground as he inhaled, the cherry burning bright at the end of the dwindling stick in his hand. You were mesmerized, honestly, maybe you’d blame it on the THC taking over but the yearning for a lazy fuck increased deep in the pit of your stomach.

You licked your lips, taken over almost instantly by the estranged feeling of cottonmouth that you hadn’t missed at all. You got up, finding your footing in between some strewn branches and headed towards the porch to try to find a semblance of a drink in the forgotten cooler. You could hear the group behind you calling you back but your reflexes were dull and you didn’t bother turning around.

“JJ, come back!” Kie’s voice sounded hazy but easy to make out.

“Yeah dude, don’t hog the spliff” John B’s voice whined shortly after.

You couldn’t really find the cooler you were so sure had been on the porch hours prior as you stumbled up the steps and into the dimly lit house. Closing the door to the empty fridge, you pressed your back against it and relished in the cooling temperature in comparison to the rest of your body. You shut your eyes for a second before feeling someone’s presence in front of you.

Opening one eye lazily, you smiled as JJ stood in front of you. His lips stuck in a smirk after he took another drag off the blunt, blowing it out to the side. His free hand caught your chin, pulling your jaw up and holding the blunt to your lips. His eyes focused intently as you took a drag, his lips almost instantly pulling into a lopsided, hazy smile.

When you were done, JJ brought it back to his own lips. The cherry still burning brightly, his chest rising. His index finger propped your chin before he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, wasting no time before coaxing them open. The smoke moved from his mouth to yours and you breathed in deeply, exchanging it between your bodies. Something about the exchange felt incredibly intimate. More intimate than sex.

JJ pulled back, a proud smile stuck on his lips as you casually exhaled. You smiled nervously in return, unsure of the current of unresolved sexual tension between you.

Truth is, you and JJ had been pushing and pulling at each other for a while now. Kiara’s dumb ‘no Pogue on Pogue macking’ rule going completely ignored. Neither you nor JJ were relationship-types but you did enjoy having a good time. And you always had a good time, together. This time though, it felt different. Maybe the THC was working its magic deep in your brain. Bringing things you had forgotten were buried deep inside.

Like that time you thought you were actually in love with JJ. You had compartmentalized that easily -- you were kids, naïve and without a care in the world. Did you even really know what love was? Life is more complicated than that, people change and grow up and realize life isn’t that easy. Maybe instead of the THC making you realize your long lost feelings for JJ, it was just making you go deep inside your head.

You shook your thoughts out of the funk and looked back into JJ’s blue eyes.

“Come to my room?” JJ asked quietly, his fingers playing with yours at your side. You nodded silently, his hand grasping yours as he led you through the narrow hallway and into John B’s guest room (or JJ’s room really, since he was there so much). He finished the blunt on his own as you walked, exhaling expertly through his nose without even a flinch.

JJ’s pace slowed as you made your way inside and he followed. He closed the door and you looked around, appreciating the trinkets strewn around and things littering the walls. It all seemed to clash but fit together somehow at the same time. You loved how every corner of this room seemed to describe JJ to a tee. It had always been that way.

No words were exchanged and none were really needed as JJ’s hands did all the talking. He tugged at the hem of your shirt as his lips dipped to the corner of your jaw. You pulled a fistful of his shirt into your hand, pulling him close. Every touch was gradually sinking in and registering in your mind.

You didn’t know how he knew but he was so in tune with your need to be touched; how much you needed to be touched and he seemed more than ready to ease every aching want you had.

JJ moved backwards, pulling you along with him as he sank to sit on the bed. He pulled you onto his lap, your legs on either side of him as your lips slowly played together. There was no rush, just ease and a very casual flow. A little different than times before; casual corners and rushed motions were more you and JJ’s thing. You could feel JJ’s hands covering almost the entirety of your back, feeling the curves of your spine. JJ’s fingers traced lightly over the top, skimming the ties on your bikini from stop your cut off tank top, sending chills across your skin and up your neck into your scalp, making you tingle everywhere.

Finally, in one swift move, he slipped the shirt over your head, the chilly air in the room, riddling your skin with goosebumps. JJ paid no mind, peeling off his already mostly unbuttoned shirt he had been wearing and connecting your lips again. He shifted his weight to the side, his hands leaving your body briefly, reaching into the pocket of his cargo shorts and pulling out a pack of cigarettes and his Zippo lighter.

You sat patiently in his lap as he pulled another carefully rolled joint from the pack, tossing the box aside. JJ held up his hand to block the nonexistent wind. The aroma filled the space around you, something that was lacking before since you had been smoking outside. The smoke was warm and as intoxicating as ever. The joint hung loosely from his lips as he pulled a long drag from it, his hands working on the clasp of your shorts.

You stood from his lap, releasing yourself from the denim confines of your shorts. JJ did the same, ditching his cargo shorts and nonchalantly ashing on the floor as he did so. He moved to the center of the bed, lying back on the pillows and finding his forgotten cellphone amongst the sea of blankets on top. He hit a few buttons, tossing it on the table beside the bed before the soft sounds of Slightly Stoopid began to play again, waking your senses. You crawled across the bed, placing your legs on either side of his hips and taking the joint from his hands before taking a long drag.

Your eyes shut as the smoke made its way through your lungs and back out slowly. With his hands free, JJ took the time to slide his boxers off. You could hear the foil packet in his hands before it crinkled as he rolled it over himself with an impatient sigh. Sliding your underwear aside, the tip of his length firmly brushed over your center. It was clear how hard he was but you had no idea what to expect as JJ slowly slid himself into you, seemingly never stopping, moving ever so slowly.

You lowered yourself onto him completely, rocking back up and taking on the burden of the movement. He took the joint back from you and you could hear the quiet burning as he inhaled from it as the music lulled and paused briefly. You knew he was watching you as you moved; your head laid back and your hair falling across your shoulders and over your back. You relished in his masculinity, the contours of his roughly sculpted muscles. It all felt so natural, so casual, so lazy, yet you didn’t want (or need) anything more from him. You didn’t need sweet nothings whispered in your ear, or a loving touch, at least not right at that moment. It was nothing more than a stoned fuck and it felt sweet in all the right ways.

It felt like an eternity and as you slowly continued to raise and lower yourself, you could feel him exhale as the air moved across your skin, chilling your nerves. You were so relaxed; you could have easily fallen asleep had it not been for the dull throbbing that was now escalating in your core. JJ’s hands landed on your hips, idly moving you faster. You looked down to him, the smoke swirling from the joint he held softly between his lips.

His brows furrowed together, the muscles in his jaw flexing as his hips began to move to meet yours. It was growing tense, eager. You let out a loud moan, your hands pressing to his chest to stabilize yourself as JJ began to pound out his desire, desperate for relief. In one fluid motion, he rose from the pillows and took you by the waist, rolling you over so that he was on top. In between your thighs, JJ’s pace never slowed.

Your back arched and your legs wrapped tightly around JJ’s waist. Your hands gripped tightly at the bed sheets as his thrusts sent you over the edge, your muscles clenching around him as he crashed into his own orgasm. The smoke and the hormones mixed in your cloudy minds to leave you in an erotic state of bliss.

JJ collapsed on the bed besides her, his chest heaving as he tossed the roach onto an ashtray on the bedside table. You lay silently for a moment before you breathing settled and you moved to collect your discarded clothes.

It hit you then that almost no words had been exchanged between them since the left the kitchen. And it was definitely rare but you didn’t really have a problem with it. This had been more than what you wanted and much better too.

JJ’s gruff voice broke the still air.

“C’mon, babe. Stay?”

#obx #outer banks #jj smut #jj x reader #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks smut #obx french inhale

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w1ngfanchu · 3 years

Text

Idk, enjoy this crackfic! Happy birthday Otto!!! Chusi don’t look, tw blood, caps, death, cursing, religion/god/heaven/hell mention, fire mention

Wing pulled his raven dark hair into a messy bun, and gazed at his dark brown orbs in the mirror. He could see them sparkle in the reflection. He heard a knock at the door.

“come in!” he cried, with a deep, husky voice. His father, cypher, walked in and sat on his bed.

“Hello son” he said, his voice grave and unfamiliar due to the years Wing had gone without hearing it, “I have some news.” Wing sat down beside his father. “Wing, I am eloping with your friend Nigel’s dad, Mr Darkdoom. I do not want him to see the family disappointment so I am sending you away to live with your aunt. Pack your things, you have 10 minutes.” With that he left, and wing could see his glassy orbs stained with tears that glistened like raindrops.

“HOW COULD YOU” he shouted at the closed door, but there was no response. Packing his things, he reflected on where he would go, as mother gothel, who shared his ebony black hair, lived in Italy. Nobody knew her real name, though some suspected it was Maria.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Wing ran downstairs, tears flying out of his dark sight balls. When it opened there she was, Mother Gothel.

“hello nephew, get in the car.” He listened and sat, his movements seemingly uncontrollable. The drive to the airport was silent. Wing could see a picture of God, and his inhuman face, on the window, and it felt as if it was staring into his dark soul. For Wing wasn’t like other people, as instead of makeup and talking about politics, he studied deities and myths. The car stopped. They got on a plane and flew to Italy.

When Wing woke up, he was in a strange room. He was scared. The door opened and Mother Gothel came inside. “Nephew dearest, I have…business to attend to. While I am gone I have sent for someone to keep you company. He is from another powerful family as I do not want you interacting with the wrong sort. Get changed and breakfast is downstairs.” She left, and he felt so small in such a big room.

Wing went downstairs after getting changed, and started spreading ruby or blood red jam with a surprisingly sharp knife that glistened like jewels on some snow white bread when the doorbell rang. He went to open it, and when he did, he dropped the knife in shock. The creature at the door had spiky white hair, beautiful in the light of the sun, and the face of a weasel on an otherwise human body, which was wearing a black jumpsuit. Lightning fast, Wing watched the creature snap his fingers and saw the knife now hovering just above his left foot.

“Hi. You must be Wing. I can already tell you are special, as you seem to be able to observe my true form.” His voice was beautiful, and the sound was heaven in Wing’s ears. “My name is Ottoious Britain Lucy Number One Weasel the third, but you may call me Otto Weasel.” Otto Weasel. The name was as beautiful as the boy himself.

“nice to meet you” wing stammered, feeling his cheeks grow hot. “thank you for saving me” Wing saw Otto smile and his cheeks grew hotter. Otto Weasel’s blue orbs twinkled like the sun reflecting in the sea, only prettier. Otto Weasel was walking inside and setting down a giant bat and a suitcase. Wing felt his heart beat faster at the thought of this amazing person-weasel? Person living in the same house as him. He felt blessed to even be in the same room as him now.

They spent the day in the mansion, Otto Weasel doing things no human should be able to do. He would summon snacks and riches seemingly out of nowhere, and would toss Wing up so high but catch him every time. He made flowers grow from the marble floors, thick vines filled with grapes, which tasted almost sweeter than the sound of Otto Weasel’s voice when he laughed. When Mother Gothel came home, they ate and went to bed.

The next day, Otto Weasel took Wing outside, barely pushing past the vines that covered the house, and they ran through the streets of Italy, hand in unlovable hand. It took wing a minute to realise that they had started floating, legs no longer pushing the ground but the air while they ran. Looking at Otto Weasel’s glorious weasel face, his sparkling ice blue seeing balls seemed familiar.

“Otto Weasel” Wing started “Otto Weasel, can I ask you something?” Wing stammered, his stomach twisting.

“Yes” came Otto Weasel’s response, “but first I will ask you a question” Otto Weasel continued, his pale cheeks redder than rubies. “Wing, will you be my human boyfriend?” he spluttered, squeezing Wing’s hand.

“Otto Weasel, I thought you would never ask!” wing replied, also blushing. “ Of course I will go out with you. You are my entire world. Where you go, I go” Seeing Otto Weasel’s smile made all of Wing’s worries melt away, despite the fact that they were floating very high off the ground.

“Love, you have not asked your question” Came Otto Weasel’s voice. Wing suddenly felt foolish but he had to ask now.

“Are you god?” Wing asked, before turning away.

“If you want me to be” Otto Weasel replied, as he started bringing them back down to the ground.

When they went back to the mansion, Mother Gothel looked furious. Her ebony hair was pulled into a bun and her eyes held the fury of hell. She sent them both up without dinner, but they had not told her about their new relationship or dinner would not be the only thing they lost that day.

When Wing woke up, he stretched his arms which felt as heavy as lead. He went downstairs to see Otto Weasel chanting quietly under his breath.

“Good morning Otto Weasel, what are you doing?” But Otto Weasel did not stop. Wing felt himself grow tired, and collapsed onto the ground. He was dreaming, he saw bright lights, and strangers. One had blood red hair and was speaking in a Scottish accent. Another was blonde and swinging on vines, though it looked like she was flying. There were two boys, holding hands and eating cake while the one with glasses, who looked extremely like Wing’s friend Nigel, was watering a plant with red liquid. There was also an old man, standing beside a woman with swords covered in heavenly fire, and they were speaking to a man, a familiar man. His father’s new husband.

“these were my friends” Otto Weasel’s voice appeared in his head. He could see them, standing on what seemed to be a cloud bathed in blue light, and Wing could vaguely see something bright and golden in the background-

Wing was jolted upright. Otto Weasel’s expression was blank, as if nothing had happened. Wing got up and they ate breakfast in silence, which was only broken once by Wing’s quiet gasp as Otto Weasel put his hand on top of his.

After breakfast they got up and Wing went to his room to study the schoolbooks Mother Gothel had left for him to revise. Wing opened his religion studies book and saw a face similar to Otto Weasel’s but older. Wing couldn’t focus on his books, not with Otto Weasels sharp Snow White hair, his beautiful pale face, and his laughter like the bells of heaven on his mind. So Wing went to find his beloved Otto Weasel.

When he did, Otto weasel took his hand and showed him around the mansion. His heart fluttering, he could do nothing but follow as Otto weasel led him to the cinema, where they sat under the dimmed lights to watch Wing’s favourite movie, Cars 2. During the movie, Wing gave Otto Weasel a blood red rose, and they were both silent apart from the sound of their beating hearts.

And just as Mater met Finn, Wing felt the gentle press of Otto Weasel’s romantically weaselly lips upon his. Wing felt sparks fly across his body, and felt the world melt away until it was only him, Otto Weasel and the talking cars. The kiss felt like hellfire, passionate and warm, but also like the springs of heaven, comforting and calm. They broke apart after a few short minutes and watched to the end of the movie. They left holding hands, and went upstairs to study together. When Mother Gothel came home, they ate then went to bed.

The next week passed similarly. Wing and Otto Weasel’s bond strengthened and things were almost perfect. But Wing was having nightmares. The people he had seen during breakfast, the people on the cloud were yelling terrible things. They were telling him to run, run far away while he still could. Wing decided to keep these from Otto Weasel as he had been looking stressed that day, and Wing felt bad to burden him with his own problems too.

A few more days passed, and mother Gothel still did not know about their relationship. And today, Otto Weasel looked more stressed than ever. Then at breakfast, just after Mother Gothel was leaving, Otto Weasel slipped Wing a note. It read “my love, you must escape. Leave and never look back”. He felt Otto Weasels soft, once gentle hands push him towards the door, panic in Otto Weasel’s ocean blue orbs. But there was a problem. Mother Gothel was still there and had a good reason. The vibes Otto Weasel had made so long ago were now blocking the door completely, not a hint of outside could be seen.

Mother Gothel snatched the note and read it. Her face twisted into a frown, and she stared at them. She was about to speak when suddenly blue light radiated from the roof.

They heard a voice booming across the mansion “OTTOIOUS BRITAIN LUCY NUMBER ONE WEASEL THE THIRD” It cried, shaking the ground, “YOU HAVE MADE A TERRIBLE MISTAKE” Otto Weasel’s eyes flashed, a dangerous look on his face. “MARIA” the voice continued, “YOU KNOW WHAT YOU MUST DO”

Mother Gothel turned to Otto Weasel. “Wing. Who is he really?” She asked, not taking her eyes off Otto Weasel.

“God?” Wing whispered, flinching at the pain on Otto Weasel’s face.

“GOD?” Mother Gothel yelled “YOU THINK HE IS GOD?” Her face was contorted and she looked to be in pain. “Tell him” she cried at Otto Weasel “let him know what you really are”

Otto Weasel walked slowly towards his boyfriend. Standing on his tiptoes, he held Wing’s chin to point it down at him. “Wing I have not fully been honest with you” he started, voice cracking, “I’ve betrayed the ones I live, I’ve betrayed you.” Otto Weasel pushed a loose strand of Wing’s hair behind his ears. “I was told to do one thing. And I failed. Because I was selfish. I wanted to keep you safe, safe from Him, but in doing so, I’ve damned us all” Otto Weasel’s orbs were glistening with bushes tears, dewdrops on his rosy cheeks..

“Otto Weasel, what are you talking about?” Wing’s question came out in a fast rush of emotion. He hated the pain on his lovers face.

“Your stepfather. You may not know it, but he is an angel. He was coming to visit, but he was bringing along someone i knew would hurt you. He brought your dad. So I’ve kept them trapped in this very house, in a room you couldn’t see, to keep you safe. But now they’re free. And they want revenge.” Just as he finished Wing aww two people walk in. Darkdoom, and his father, armed with a gun. Pointed right at him.

Otto Weasel raised his arm at Cypher. Mother Gothel started towards him then stopped “Otto Weasel, you know what will happen if you hurt gods son in law”

“I do. And I don’t care. If Anyone hurts wing I will stop at nothing to get my revenge. His love is worth more than the lives of anyone in this planet and I will fuck your up if you hurt him” Wing felt himself blush, but was unable to move. He still couldn’t move when he saw his father’s hand squeeze the trigger. He couldn’t move as he saw the bullet flying at him. But he could move to look down to see red stains on his white shirt.

Otto Weasel screamed a bloodcurdling scream. The ground shook as Wing fell to the floor, helpless as the world started to burn, flames pouring from Otto Weasel’s hand, heading towards Cypher. Wing felt Otto Weasel fall next to him and cradle his face, as a portal of fire and screams opened up next to him. Mother Gothels last words came “hell is your home now Otto Weasel but I shall share it with you” with that she lunged at cypher and threw his gun at Wing.

Otto Weasel’s beautiful voice, dampened by the curse of sadness reached his ears “Wing you know what will happen if you do this” he said, as wing drowsily turned the gun upon the man who used to be his father. “I know, my love” he said, finger on the trigger, and he quietly gasped as he felt Otto Weasel’s hand cover his for the last time on Earth. “Otto Weasel I-“

“I know what I’m doing Wing. Of course I will go out with you. You are my entire world. Where you go, I go. And if that is hell, then j will gladly accept my fate, as long as you are there with me”

Together they pulled the trigger and watched as Cypher fell. The portal came closer as wing felt the world fading away, his love’s face getting farther and farther away. The red of hellfire matching the red of Otto Weasel’s blush, and Wing knew that existence without Otto Weasel was a fate worse than death.

But when Wing woke up, he was bathed in blue light, so alone in the void that is eternity.

And when Otto Weasel woke up, bathed in red light, he knew it was all for nothing. Wing was gone and he was alone, so alone in the void that is eternity.

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raelly-writing · 3 years

Text

Until the Morrow

Thancred/fWoL, 5.0 spoilers for the MSQ. Takes place after the level 77 dungeon :)

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Thancred stared up into the top of the old bunk bed. In the dark, he could clearly hear the sounds of Urianger and Alphinaud’s slow and even breathing.

A vague, nonsensical feeling of envy stirred in his chest. Sighing, he twisted onto his side, pulling the covers closer around himself. The hasty movement made his muscles ache, battered and bruised as he still felt after all the fighting. Really, after a day so long and exhausting as the one they’d had, he should be dead to the world as well.

Try as he might tho, sleep would not come to him. His thoughts kept twisting and turning, picking over the events of the day, regret like a black void in his chest as each one inevitably made his thoughts loop back to another memory - of things he had not said when he should have, how he could now see how keeping Ryne at arm’s length had hurt her so deeply, and picking over each and every moment of the past few weeks, years, vowing to do better, to be better for her sake.

But he wouldn’t be to any good use on the morrow if he didn’t get some rest.

“Seven Hells…” Despite that his gruff whisper was muffled against the thin pillow it sounded so loud in the quiet room. Try as he might, even when resorting to old meditation techniques, the uncomfortable energy that simmered and crawled right beneath his skin just wouldn’t go away, leaving him twisting and turning in search for a comfortable sleeping position.

Finally, with a twinge of annoyance at himself, Thancred threw aside the covers and rolled out of bed. Maybe a walk would let him relax. The old worn floorboards shifted beneath his sock clad feet as he silently made his way to the door with his boots in hand, yet neither of his companions thankfully stirred from their slumber.

When he closed the door behind him and the stillness of the dark corridor enveloped him, Thancred let out his breath in a slow exhale and quickly pulled on his boots.

Now that he was fully awake and resigned to contemplating the past day, that familiar, painful ache in his heart that had been his constant companion for so many years stirred. Minfilia truly was gone now - at last freed from her long vigil over this world and allowed to rest. A part of him wished he could have seen her one more time, heard her calm melodic voice for the last time... That he could have told her those things he should have so long ago, and been allowed to say his farewells to her, to assure her he’d look after Ryne and the rest of their friends.

Automatically, his steps carried him to the next door, where he paused and let his fingertips settle against the rough wood, as though he could sense the rest of their group sleeping beyond it.

Well, Minfilia was not entirely gone - part of her did live on in Ryne. A faint smile curled the corner of his mouth. The events of the day had clearly taken their toll on her, yet she’d put on such a brave face right until they arrived back here to Twine, unwilling to admit to her fatigue until everyone else had been yawning widely.

It was a very strange and confusing mix of feelings but despite his restless mind, he felt… somehow more at ease than he had in a long time. Like he finally could see the hints of a clearer path ahead of himself, no longer obscured by the darkness of his mourning and sense of failure, that there was no longer an old intangible weight bearing down on his chest and shoulders.

Shaking his head, Thancred silently stalked further down the corridor of the former mine workers’ quarters, towards the door out to the balcony. He needed some fresh air, to let his thoughts settle until they no longer twisted and turned in whichever direction they pleased. If they didn’t linger on the past, it they trailed forward - to the battles ahead, the things he’d need to speak of with Ryne so he could properly clear the air between them, the old regrets that still clung to his conscience that he felt he needed to make up for, the lingering hypervigilance against Eulmore’s pursuit of them, of Viana and the sudden change to their relationship after so many years…

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth at the pleasant memory of kissing her, still so fresh that he could almost still feel her lips against his. If he didn’t know better, he’d think it had all been a pleasant dream, and that he’d wake up at any moment with Urianger and Y’shtola hovering above him as they tended to his wounds.

Wouldn’t be the first time his dreams elected to taunt him with what he thought was beyond him. He pushed open the door, the refreshing cold night air rushing into his lungs and immediately nipping at his skin laid bare by his pushed up sleeves. The glow of a lantern took him by surprise, as did the figure leaning against the banister. Thancred stopped dead in his tracks, just as the very person he’d been thinking of whipped around, her body language tense and ready.

Even though they both immediately visibly relaxed, the air was at once thick with tension as they stared at each other. They hadn’t been afforded any time to speak in private, not with their friends around, everyone utterly exhausted after the day’s events, and the multitude of questions the inhabitants of Twine had had upon their return.

The surreal sensation tugged at him once more. For over five years he’d clung to memories of quiet moments he’d spent in her company, missing their comfortable companionship, worrying about what was happening on the Source, his heart yearning to be by her side once more - all while trying to force himself to cut off those stubborn feelings that had blossomed from that friendship. He’d been so certain that it’d been for the best not to act on them, that if he did not, she’d let go of whatever she thought she might feel and move on to someone more deserving of her affections.

Someone who was more trustworthy than he.

And yet, there in the soft lantern light, he saw the undeniable warmth in her gaze as she looked at him. Clearing his throat, Thancred offered her a small, apologetic smile. “Pardon me, I didn’t know the balcony was occupied.”

Viana huffed out a quiet laugh, her smile earnest if a tad tired. “Fret not, I believe there’s enough room for the both of us,” she replied quietly while shrugging one shoulder. The blanket she had wrapped around herself, already hanging precariously after her sudden motion when he’d startled her, slipped a little further off that shoulder. Instantly, Thancred felt an itch in his fingers to readjust it, to pull her close once more - to feel her lips against his again and soak in the warmth of her leaning against him without the hard press of their respective armours in the way.

An unfamiliar nervous tingle sparked in his stomach as he carefully nudged shut the door behind him. Hells, he’d yanked her into that first kiss out of fear and adrenaline - a leap of faith, before he lost his nerve and accepted the easy out she had given him of what her accidental confession could entail, to let him just carry on as he had without confronting what lay between them - but he wasn’t about to act quite so impulsive now.

With slow, measured steps he closed the distance between, giving him time to observe her. Viana leaned against the banister, despite the uncertain energy to her pose looking more at ease in his presence than he could recall for… well, ever since they’d been reunited in this dying world. It no longer felt like there was a vast expanse between them - one he knew had mainly been of his own doing, holding her at arm’s length, until it had reached that breaking point in Twine.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” he asked.

She raised an eyebrow at him, the teasing glint in her eyes so painfully familiar from years past, when they had both been standing on the Source. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Thancred couldn’t help but huff out a quiet laugh. This felt familiar. Comforting. Perhaps grabbing her around the waist to keep her from leaving had been less a leap of faith off a steep cliff with a long drop and more a leap to join her on her side of the rift between them.

Perhaps that was why he felt so uncertain in this moment, his footing not yet stable on this new ground he’d suddenly found himself on.

Thancred leaned against the banister, keeping a small if unassuming distance between them, and shrugged while staring out across the moonlit landscape. “Hard to shake the feeling that Eulmore will be snapping at our heels any moment now,” he replied.

“I think we’re safe for now,” Viana hummed and turned to rest her elbows on the railing. “The loss of Ran’jit is sure to upset the chain of command for a little while, maybe even rattle morale a bit. Suspect we’ll be bringing the fighting to them, if we wish to reach the Kholusia lightwarden...”

“The sooner the better,” he replied. “Vauthry has a lot to answer for.” It was hard to keep the grim tone out of his voice. For years he’d harboured anger towards the city for locking away Ryne in a dark cell, far below the sea level. While striking down Ran’jit for good eased some of it, he was not the sole person responsible for the treatment of her. And three years were not enough to wipe away the memories of the weeks he spent infiltrating the city, of the debauched acts of hedonism and heartless cruelty that he’d witnessed while slinking from shadow to shadow, seeking a way down to the gaol.

The remnants of his anger from earlier in the day stirred at the back of his mind, but a warm touch to the bare skin of his arm drew him back to the present.

It was a small, hesitant touch - just the back of Viana’s fingers pressed against his arm, thumb brushing over his wrist - but he felt it as surely as the comforting heat of a fire on a cold day. “Did you have a chance to speak with Ryne yet?” she asked softly.

Thancred cast a glance at her, and shook his head. “Only a little. She was so tired that I said we’d speak further once we’re back in the Crystarium.”

She made a quiet sound of understanding, and much to his regret she withdrew her hand. After a moment of hesitation, he reached back out for it, sliding his fingers along the inside of her wrist in a silent question. Something in his stomach twisted, a nervous jolt of energy he was unfamiliar with, when she immediately opened her hand so he could loosely entwine his fingers with hers.

They stood in silence for a moment, with only the muted sounds from the other side of the small town where the miners were celebrating the night’s return as their company. Her hand was warm against his, and he found himself relishing in the small, innocent contact.

Exhaling slowly, Thancred rubbed his thumb against her hand. How many times hadn’t he seduced and tempted men and women, confident that his easy smile and grandiose compliments would win their favour - be it to coax information out of them or merely for a night of simple pleasure. Those grand words had never worked on her. But, where Y’shtola had always had a sharp, dismissive remark at hand, Viana had thrown his words back at him with an amused roll of her eyes, her teasing retorts just as void of sincere intent as his.

As memories of trading jabs and barbs with her, faded by the many years that had passed, played in his mind, an awareness crept up on him of his every touch and word that quickly grew into a nagging worry that any gesture of his now would be mistaken as disingenuous.

“Hey… something wrong?”

Wetting his lips, Thancred kept his eyes on the far horizon. “Forgive me,” he drawled with a self deprecating lilt to his tone, “I used to be good at… all of this.”

Viana was quiet for a moment, before the warm weight of her upper arm settled against his as she leaned against him. It prompted him to look up to see her give him a reassuring, if nervous, smile. “It’s okay Thancred, I don’t have any expectations.”

By reflex, he raised an eyebrow, a joking remark right at the tip of his tongue, but before he had a chance to speak her eyes grew wide and she jerked upright, yanking her hand out of his loose grip in the process.

“I mean - Hells, that came out wrong,” she rushed to explain as a deep blush coloured her cheeks. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t how - It’s not that I think you’ll-” Embarrassment flitted across her features and she sharply averted her gaze, turning her head away from him with a frustrated sound.

Thancred blinked, caught a little off-guard at seeing such a flustered reaction from her, but then gave her a lopsided smile. With a fond laugh under his breath, he felt some of his own worries ebb away. Turning his body towards her, he pulled up the blanket that barely clung to her arm so it rested more securely over her shoulder, then let his hand settle at the small of her back. “Viana, relax.”

A couple of seconds passed before she exhaled slowly, her shoulders slumping a little when she turned to mirror his pose, leaning on one elbow against the banister, gaze downcast and an uncertain frown on her face. One of her fingers tapped against the banister in a nervous manner before she reached out and took his hand between hers.

“What I meant is that I have no experience with these sorts of relationships either,” she finally said, her tone even and measured, like she’d thought each word over. The feeling of her trailing slow, random patterns over his palm that left a tingling sensation in their wake, but he kept still, his other hand having fallen to rest at her hip. A look of weary amusement flittered across her features, “Casual encounters, yes, though those never seemed to be particularly satisfactory.” Her fingers stilled, and she just held his hand between hers, enveloping it in her warm grasp. “But there was never that… trust, to let someone close for something more long-lasting.”

The weight of her words settled in his chest. Swallowing thickly, Thancred curled his fingers around her hand and raised it so he could brush a kiss to the back of her fingers. Wherever this between them went, for however long she wanted him by her side, he’d rather the gods struck him down on the spot than ever risk hurting her. “I suppose we’ll just have to learn together then,” he rasped out.

Viana laughed quietly under her breath as she moved to cup his jaw with her free hand. “I’m willing to,” she replied gently. A warm sense of contentment swelled up in his entire body when she lowered her head to rest her brow against his - there were no urgent tasks to see at this moment, no need to do anything to rush things. Humming, he slipped his hand beneath the blanket to wrap his arm around her waist, relishing in the warmth radiating off her through her thin shirt. Slowly, he nuzzled his nose against hers, soaking in the moment, before capturing her lips in a tender, lingering kiss. There'd been so many times that his traitorous dreams had fed him figments and shards of what it’d be like to kiss her, to hold her close, that part of him still reeled at the knowledge that he was welcome to do so now.

He could feel her smile against his lips, her thumb brushing over his cheekbone while her other hand slipped out of his grasp to settle on his shoulder. With a dull thud, the blanket fell to the floor, but she made no move to break away from him. The kiss melted into another, then one more. A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold night air rolled down his spine, and he subconsciously tensed his fingers, pressing them into her back, his other light on her hip. After all these years without much physical contact, his entire body sang with satisfaction at feeling her body settle against his - not accidental brushes while they sparred or went about their daily business, but comfortably leaning her entire frame against him. When they finally broke apart, the stillness of the night settled around them, and Viana moved her arms to rest around his shoulders.

It took all he had to suppress a shudder as he pressed his nose against the crook of her neck, his thoughts fuzzy and disoriented, merely relishing in having her close, of being enveloped in her embrace, warmth and scent. If only he could stay like this with her for many more hours, just holding her and being held in turn.

“This is nice,” she finally whispered.

Thancred chuckled and gave her hip a small squeeze. “Glad to hear I am not too out of practise after all these years.”

Viana laughed under her breath, but made no move to break the embrace, not even when he a few moments later felt her shiver.

As if to remind him of where they were, the cold night air nipped at his skin, and he realised she was in just a short sleeved shirt. Concern stirred him to turn his head and press a kiss to her neck. “Do you want to head back inside?”

Immediately, she leaned back from him, her expression apologetic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you from your sleep.”

With a low laugh from deep in his chest, Thancred shook his head and rubbed his thumbs against her waist. “You’re not, darling.” Then he leaned down, picking up the blanket from the worn out timber floor. When he straightened back up, he slipped his hand into hers and guided her over to the simple bench that was pushed up against the wall, the lantern perched on one end of it. “I’m not opposed to staying out here for a little while with you, ” he explained with, what he hoped, was a charming smile. Twelve, he felt so rusty.

There was an amused, affectionate glint in her eye as she accepted his invitation, and they settled down together, the blanket large enough to wrap around both of them.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

“Mhm,” she replied, just as her hand found his beneath the blanket and laced her fingers with his.

“Good,” he whispered, squeezing her hand. Despite the nervous simmering energy that lingered in his stomach, in the end it felt so… easy, knowing that his touches were welcome. No pretenses were needed, no sugar coated words to vye for her good graces or that game of measured and careful touches to tempt and seduce. Just the slow, timid return of the companionship he had missed so dearly since he’d been torn to this world.

He knew her. And for all his faults, she had accepted him, chosen him.

As they sat there, shoulders pressed together, quietly speaking about things that did not pertain to the labours that lay ahead of them, while staring up at the stars twinkling so far above, he felt himself relax, a small smile playing on his lips. There were other, practical things they would need to speak of - of their responsibilities as Scions, their pasts, and experiences - but those could wait for a later time.

After all these years, he could let himself just enjoy this small moment, as it were. Duty would call soon enough for both of them.

#thancred #thancred waters #thancred x wol #ffxiv #my writing #IDK guys #it is what it is #sometimes you just want to finish something

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Leave No One Behind

CH 9: Doctor’s Orders Part 2 Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewinging

Episode Summary: Hannah has a cold and of course Ari takes it upon himself to look after her. Once that little obstacle is out of the way trouble finds them once again on the morning of her birthday…and hell breaks loose at the Red Sea Diving Resort.

Episode Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut (NSFW no under18s)

Episode Pairings: Ari Levinson x OFC Hannah Horowitz

Leave No One Behind Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 1.

Hannah stirred, stretching a little. She couldn’t feel Simon at the end of the bed by her feet. Expecting him to be behind her, tucked into the crook of her back as he sometimes did, she turned giving a small start as it wasn’t Simon behind her but Ari, the pup in question curled around his head. Hannah blinked again, Ari hadn’t been there when she had gone to sleep. There had been too many people out late last night and Sammy was still watching her like a hawk after her illness. She lay still, taking a few minutes to drink him in as he slept. His hair was falling slightly over his forehead, the moonlight falling onto his face highlighting his nose and bearded cheek a little where his eyelashes lay flush to his skin. Smiling, she poked Simon to get him to move.

“Sorry Si, but he’s my man. Move.”

Simon gave a little whine of protest but obeyed, getting up to move. But despite Hannah’s efforts to keep as quiet as possible, the noise and movement had woken Ari up. He stretched his limbs out, and then gave a little sigh as Hannah nuzzled closer, kissing his jaw line.

“You have a nightmare Lobo?” she asked softly.

“Yeah about Dogzilla digging his paws into my eye sockets.” Ari mumbled, as he could feel Simon flop down at the end of the bed. Hannah chuckled as he reached out, eyes still closed, one arm sliding underneath her neck, the other gently laying against her hip where it slid up her cami top, palm warm against her skin.

“What are you doing here Ari?” he heard her ask.

“Sleeping?” The inflection in his voice made it sound like a question. He felt her shift again, her fingers reaching up and brushing through his beard. He leaned into her touch just like Simon did when he was scratching his ears.

“You know you could have just asked right?” she said gently “You didn’t need to sneak in in the middle of the night.”

“I didn’t sneak in…”

“Ok, whatever you say” she laughed.

Ari pouted a little “I just wanted to surprise you after midnight.” He cracked his eyes open and smiled at her.

She frowned “Midnight? What-“ and then it dawned on her. If it was after midnight, it was her birthday. Her eyes widen a little and Ari smiled and gave a little nod.

“Happy birthday Firefly.” He whispered.

Hannah felt herself welling up “Did you…” She choked a little “Did you just sneak in here to…”

Ari grinned, “I wanted to be the first person to wish you happy birthday.”

Hannah spluttered a laugh “You soft bastard.” She licked her lips and looked at him, almost shyly “Thanks Mi Lobo.”

A reached up to gently lay his palm against her cheek, thumb skating her cheekbone “You’re welcome. I had 8 missed birthdays to make up for. We’ve come a long way since that party on your 21st”

“1385 miles give or take…that is if you don’t count all the other stuff in between.” She grinned and Ari shook his head and let out a sigh.

“Don’t be a smart ass firefly. I was trying to be romantic.”

“Romance is overrated…” Hannah grinned, pushing closer to him and sliding her leg between both his, arching an eyebrow as she realised he was naked. His fingers flexed on her hip and he mimicked her expression.

“Is that so?” he teased. She nodded, her hand sliding up his arm.

“Yup.” She popped the p.

“Oh, well, I guess I’ll just go then…” Ari smirked, his face dipping towards hers.

“Don’t think so lobo…you’re my birthday gift.” Her hand slid back down his arms and she dipped it under the covers, and round to grab at his bare ass. “Although I’m pretty pissed I don’t get to unwrap it. Couldn’t you have worn a big red bow or something?”

“Ungrateful brat.” Ari mumbled as his lips press to hers. It wasn’t long before their bodies were melded together and soft breathy moans and gasps filled the air. Ari took his time, lavishing affection on his girl, his pace soft and slow right to the end. Exhausted and sated they fell back asleep, cuddled together, Ari’s arms wrapped around Hannah, her head tucked under his chin pressed into his chest.

She must have moved during the night as when Ari woke her back was pressed to his chest, his face buried into her hair. Keeping his eyes closed, he snuggled in closer and she stirred a little, her hand moving and laying over his which was splayed on her stomach.

“Morning” Hannah spoke little groggily and he kissed her neck.

“Morning baby.” He greeted her.

The two of them lay there, Hannah’s fingers playing gently with his when voices drifted through the lattice covers over the window. Hannah stilled and Ari let out a sigh.

Fucking tourists…fucking people…damned it!

“Hannah…” he started to suggest that he needed to go before any of the team started milling about but she cut him off.

“I’m done Ari.”

“What?” Ari asked, his voice a whisper as for a split second he thought she meant with him. But as she turned to face him, he saw the expression on her face and knew what she was going to say before she said it.

“Sneaking around.” She shook her head “I’m done.”

Ari looked at her as the magnitude of what she had just said sunk in “You sure you wanna do this today?”

“Why?” she countered “Don’t you?”

“If it was up to me we would have come clean the day after our first night Firefly.” Ari brushed her hair behind her ear “But it’s your birthday. Your 30th…I don’t want it ruined by Sammy’s inevitable melt down.”

“Why does he have to be such a pain in the ass?” Hannah rolled her eyes and moved out of Ari’s arms. She climbed out of bed, pulling on her cami and sleep shorts as Ari sighed.

“He’s being a big brother.” He said, still feeling the need to defend his best friend. He watched Hannah for a moment as she grabbed a hair tie and pulled her hair up into a messy ponytail.

“Ok.” She turned to Ari, decision made. “Tomorrow. We tell him tomorrow. Then he has just over a week to chill the fuck out before the next mission.”

Ari nodded “Ok.”

Hannah smiled as Ari kicked the covers off himself, leaving them tangled by her feet. Simon gave a start and started to scramble out of them, glaring a Ari as he dropped to the floor shaking. Hanna smirked as she looked from Simon to Ari, biting her lip.

“Stop it.” He shook his head with a grin “I need to go…preferably without a boner because of the fact that I’m imagining the filthy thoughts you’re having right now.”

She grinned as he picked up his shorts, and slipped them on. He grabbed his shirt off the floor and she walked over to give him a quick kiss.

“See you at breakfast.” He smiled against her mouth. But Hannah was clearly in a playful mood, and it was hard not to get caught in it. She wrapped her arms round his neck and kept placing lingering pecks on his lips as he backed to the door, the pair of them giggling. “Firefly…” Ari laughed, scrabbling behind him for the door handle “Let me go.”

“It’s my birthday…” she pouted.

“I’m well aware of that…” he eventually found the door handle and pushed it down, moving slightly as he pulled it inwards, feeling it banging against his back, the warm breeze fluttering into the room. “And seeing as you’ve been a good girl, I’ll make sure your presents are waiting at…”

He trailed off as Hannah’s eyes widened and she took a deep breath, her face rearranged in shock and horror and Ari stilled, his face inches from hers as he heard Sammy’s voice.

“Oh fuck, no…just…”

Ari wheeled around so fast that he almost lost his balance, and he stared at Sammy who wore an expression as dark as thunder.

“What the fuck man?” Sammy shoved Ari in the chest “Tell me this isn’t what it looks like!”

“Sammy, I-“ Ari was cut off by Sammy’s fist connecting with his jaw. The forced of the punch sent him sprawling back into the room and he stumbled a little as Hannah gave a yell.

“Sammy!! What the fuck!” She turned to Ari, who had just regained his balance and was straightening up, his hand wrapped around his jaw, blinking furiously. Hannah’s hand gently moved to his arms and he shook his head

“I’m fine.” He mumbled wiping at the trickle of blood seeping from his split lip. She wheeled round to her brother who was stalking into the room.

“You fucking bastard, Ari! After everything….”

“That’s ENOUGH Sam!” Hannah’s voice was loud “And yes, this is EXACTLY what it looks like.”

Sammy fell silent, the only sound in the hut now was Simon’s growling as he positioned himself next to Hannah who was stood in between Ari and Sam, her face furious as she stared down her brother. Eventually Sammy made an angry noise through his nose and she took a deep breath, turning to Ari.

“Can you leave us Ari?”

Ari frowned, because that was the last thing he wanted to do, “Han, I…”

“Please Lobo.” Her eyes locked onto his and he sighed.

“Ok.” He pulled on his T-shirt and headed to the door, Sammy’s eyes following him as he walked. Just as he was about to leave through the door, Sammy couldn’t resist one final shot.

“What is it with you huh?” he demanded “Why can’t you ever fucking say no to her? You’ve never fucking been able to resist have you?”

Ari stopped, grinding his teeth together and turned to face Sammy “I wouldn’t have ever been in a position where I had to if it hadn’t been for you and Andy in the first place.

“Is this why you brought her here?” Sammy continued, fury clouding his entire face “Thinking you’d get her out to Africa and worm your way back into her fucking affections?”

“Keep going Sammy! Go on.” Ari’s voice was low, almost a growl “Keep fucking pushing me and I swear to God-“

“Ari!” Hannah’s voice cut over his, her tone stern “Just go.”

With one last glare at Sammy he did was he was asked. Once Ari was gone, Hannah rounded on her brother. “You done with you little outburst Sammy, or you wanna say fuck a few more times?” she fumed at him.

“Done?” Sammy scoffed “I aint even started yet Hannah! I-“

“Save it Sammy. I don’t wanna hear a single word you have to say.” Hannah cut him off “Not this time. You’re gonna listen to me for a change.” Sammy looked at her, his mouth snapping shut, eyes blazing. “I’m done with you babying me. I’m 30 today for crying out loud so I’m pretty sure I get a say in what I want and how I want it.” She pointed at him “And I’m not letting anyone, not even you get in my way and decide to me. You got it?” she took a breath “If I’m making a mistake only time will tell, but it will be MY mistake, not your fucking manipulation. And if I’m right then good for me.”

Sammy remained silent, his breathing deep. Hannah could tell he was itching to say something but he didn’t so she continued, swallowing slightly before she spoke again.

“Get yourself together and wish me happy birthday which is what you were obviously here to do, being a good big brother and all, and then go and apologise to Ari for being an utter prick. Again.”

At that point Simon gave a bark, punctuating her last sentence perfectly and Sammy frowned “I’m not apologising to that asshole!”

Hannah groaned “Yes, you are. Because that asshole is your best friend.”

“Best friends don’t fuck their best friend’s sisters!!”

“Well, breaking news Sammy, he has. Quite a lot actually.” Sammy growled a little as she shrugged “But if that’s the way you wanna play it, should I tell Rachel to stop fucking my brother? Should I go out there and slap her on her face?”

Hannah could tell from the look on her brother’s face she’d surprised him, a fact that was backed up when he spoke, his voice stuttering “That’s…how do you…” he stopped and shook his head “You know what, it doesn’t matter, it’s irrelevant as it is completely different.”

Hannah gave a derisive laugh and folded her arms “Why is it different? Care to explain Sammy?

Sammy opened his mouth and shut it again. “You just proved my point Sammy.” Hannah sighed and shook her head. “Look, I love you, you’re my brother, but I love him too.”

At that Sammy’s eyes widened and Hannah was pretty sure hers did at well as she’d just admitted that out loud.

“You love him?” Sammy looked at her, blinking.

“Yeah.” She swallowed and took a breath, “We’re not fooling around Sammy if that’s what you think. This is serious, for both of us. We’re not the same two people you messed with nine years ago so if you fuck this up for me again I swear to god I’ll never forgive you. Not this time.”

Sammy stared at her for a moment, before he made an angry noise in his throat and stormed from the hut, slamming the door behind him.

Max and Jake were walking down the beach towards the main building when they saw Sammy storm out of Hannah’s hut and head the opposite way of the resort towards Ari’s, the expression on his face was alarming to say the least.

"What the fuck is that about?" Jake asked confused.

Max was about to reply he had no idea when he suddenly realised what may be going on.

"Ah shit. ANGELA!!!!!" he yelled as he nudged Jake and the two of them set off at a sprint to Ari’s hut.

“We have a situation with Liam and Guy!" he shot over his shoulder at Rachel when she opened her hut's door, alerted by the rumble.

When they saw Sammy barge open the door, they picked up the pace, reaching the hut just as Sammy lunged at Ari again. "You son of a bitch!" he yelled at him once more as he went to throw another punch him, but his time Ari was ready. He anticipated Sammy’s attempt and thus was able to dodge it and gripped Sam's arm, pinning it up his back. Sammy jerked free, his anger propelling him, and went for Ari again. Only this time Ari lunged forward too, he had lost it.

Jake saw Ari’s contorted face and grabbed hold of Sammy as Max stepped in between them, placing one hand on Ari's chest.

"Say that again. Come on, Sammy!" Ari irked him.

"You stupid, cocky bastard." Sammy spat, trying to wriggle out of Jake's hold. "I'm gonna punch your fucking face till my hand bleeds."

"Sammy, chill man." Jake, who was having a hard time trying to hold Sammy, advised.

"Chill, chill? How can I chill when he’s fucking my sister?" Sammy growled.

The entire place fell quiet. Jake frowned and looked at Sammy, then to Ari, who took a deep breath, and then to Max who looked back at him. The four men were snapped from the thoughts whirling in their minds when a voice could be heard from the doorway.

“Or maybe your sister is fucking him?”

Everyone turned to see Hannah stood in the entrance, arms folded, with Rachel by her side.

Sammy took advantage of the general commotion and shrugged out of Jake’s hold. Max looked at Ari and he held his hands up, signalling he would behave.

"Shut up Hannah." Sammy groaned, rounding on her.

"Hey, don’t talk to her like that." Ari warned him.

Sammy gave a sarcastic laugh before glaring at Ari "Oh, that is so typical of you, isn’t it? Jumping in, playing the goddamned gentleman."

Simon started to bark as Ari and Sammy began their verbal bickering again until Rachel cut in loudly as she clocked the expression on Hannah’s face.

"Ok, that’s enough!"

Everyone looked at her, and she nodded almost imperceptibly in Hannah’s direction but enough for Ari to glance at her and see, to his horror, she now had tears in her eyes. Hannah shook her head and, feeling all his teammates’ eyes on her, looked at the floor before she turned to Sammy and then at Ari taking a deep breath and looking away again.

“Happy fucking birthday to me.”

At that, Sammy dropped his head as Ari pushed past, making no attempt to stop him. Though he was still dying to beat the hell out of his so called best friend, the sight of his sister crying had made him feel really guilty.

Ari ignored everyone's stares and pulled Hannah into his arms. "Hey firefly, it’s ok…" his hand gently resting on her head as she pushed her face into his chest "Don’t cry, please. I’m sorry."

As he apologised to her his eyes fell on Sammy and shot the man a look. They were not important here, what was important however, was the woman in his arms. Her damned 30th birthday and they were fighting like a couple of school kids. Sammy swallowed and looked at the floor taking a deep breath.

"Sorry Han."

Hannah pulled back a little and nodded, Ari cupped her face, his thumbs wiping her tears. "You ok?" he asked softly.

She nodded again but she was not smiling. It wasn't fair and the two most important men in her life were to blame Ari thought, as he dropped his hands and turned to Sammy, one hand resting on the lower part of Hannah’s back.

Sammy, whose eyes were fixed on Ari's hand, opened his mouth to say something, but Ari spoke first.

"Look, I’m sorry you had to find out like this. We were gonna tell you…"

"Sure you were." Sammy scoffed.

"We were Sammy. Ari wanted to tell you straight away but I was scared of how you would react. Clearly with good reason." Hannah confirmed, her voice still shaky from having cried.

Sammy sighed and chuckled bitterly. "You know, now a lot of things are starting to make sense."

Max and Rachel shared a knowing glance. Jake frowned at them and then he opened his eyes wide. "Did you two know?" he asked looking at them.

Rachel sighed as she knew she was going to be in trouble with Sammy but it was not like she could deny it so she nodded.

Max made a noise and wrinkled his nose. "I guessed."

Sammy glared at Rachel, then at Max. “Did everyone know but me?"

"I didn’t." Jake spoke, somewhat pissed.

Sammy’s eyes moved to Simon who had now jumped up, his paws on Hannah’s thigh as she reached down, scratching his ears. "Even the fucking dog knew."

Jake frowned at Sammy's comment. "What…you…oh shiiit, he fucked my leg…man that’s…"

"Shut up, Jake." Ari said sternly.

"This isn’t happening." Sammy groaned.

Rachel took a deep breath before intervening again. "Ok, Max and Jake go supervise the breakfasts for the guests. Some of them might have already shown up, see they need anything." She then turned to Sammy. "You come with me, let's see if your hand needs patching up." And before Sammy could protest she looked at Hannah, nodding towards Ari. "You better take care of that split lip."

"It’s fine." Ari shook his head.

"I didn’t hit him that hard." Sammy scoffed. "You hit him, that’s all that matters." Rachel stated, cutting any more potential bickering as she shoved Sammy in the back towards the door.

"And my hand is fine, I’m a doctor, I know."

"Well there are clearly a lot of things you don’t know." She couldn’t stop herself from jabbing at him, but his bratty comments had her on edge too. Sammy stopped and glared at her. "Sorry, that was uncalled for." she apologised sincerely.

The two of them stood, staring at one another and Rachel nodded towards Ari, almost as if Sammy was a child being told by his mother he had to apologise. But just like a small child would he refused and simply turned and left. Rachel shot them both an exasperated look and headed off after him, closing the door.

Hannah sighed and Ari turned to her, his hands on her hips. "Don’t worry baby, he’ll have to come round sooner or later, coz I’m not going anywhere."

"He might, with any luck." she groaned

"You don’t mean that Han."

Hannah sighed. "No, you’re right, I’m just….I don’t know Ari, I’m angry and upset and…"

"Hey, hey come on…" he comforted her, throwing his arms around her again and kissing her head. They stayed still for a while, his hand rubbing at her back before she eventually moved and looked up at him.

"Does your face hurt? Do you want me to patch you up?"

Ari shook his head. "It’s ok, I’ve had worse. Now, let’s get you a big ass birthday breakfast. You’re getting old, Firefly." he teased her.

She snorted. "I’ll never be as old as you, mi lobo."

"Hey…" he said, pouting a little as he connected his hands round the bottom of her back, pulling her closer. "I think I’m pretty spry for my age, don’t you agree?" he asked, giving her a wink.

She laughed, her hands sliding up his chest, linking round his neck. "That’s one word for it."

"And there it is, that gorgeous laugh." Ari smiled and leaned down to give her a soft kiss. "Come on, let’s go. And I’m warning you, I fully intend on sitting next to my girl."

At that Hannah couldn't help but beam at him. "About damned time." Ari took her hand in his and led her out of the hut. For the first time they walked up the sand, publicly, with their fingers laced together and Ari could swear it felt good, it felt more than good actually.

When they arrived at the breakfast table everyone was waiting for them and Rachel had lit a birthday candle on a cinnamon bun.

"There she is, happy birthday!”

Max grinned and started singing, as did Jake and Sammy, some of the guests joining in singing and clapping from their tables. Ari stole a quick look at his best friend, whose eyes flickered to him and gave him a filthy look, before they moved back to Hannah. Ari understood that instantly to mean that this was simply a temporary truce for Hannah’s sake, but at that point he didn’t care. All he was bothered about was Hannah being able to enjoy her day.

"Oh my god this is so embarrassing." she said as she blushed and tried to cover her face with the hand that Ari wasn't holding.

Max grinned. "Yup."

Simon, not at all amused at the lack of attention he was suffering that day, let out a whine and pawed at Ari’s leg. He looked down at him, releasing Hannah’s hand. “You hungry pal?” Simon wagged his tail in response. “I’ll just go feed him.” he offered and Hannah smiled at him as he headed off. She turned and shyly thanked everyone, sitting at her usual spot before she poured herself some coffee.

When Ari returned he dropped into the seat next to her, noticing it had been left empty, most likely on purpose. He reached for a pastry and leaned back, munching it, his right arm laying across the back rest of Hannah’s chair, making the most of ignoring Sammy stares at his arm which stopped when Rachel nudged him in the ribs.

All in all, the atmosphere was light, but there was an elephant in the room, and no one wanted to raise it for fear of setting Sammy off. Rachel, as always, provided a perfect distraction and reached down for a gift bag. She set it graciously on the table and pushed it towards Hannah.

"This is from us 4…" she said looking at Max, Jake and Ari.

"5." Ari corrected.

They all looked at him and he shrugged. "Simon chipped in."

Everyone chuckled and Hannah nudged him. "Idiot."

He grinned, looking at her, for a moment debating giving her a kiss but he decided not to rub Sammy’s nose in it anymore. Hannah looked at him, sensing what he was thinking, and bit her lip reaching into the bag. They watched as she unwrapped her present, giving a little gasp as she spotted the Tag Heuer logo on the black leather box.

"You didn’t." her eyes flicked up in shock, looking round the tale.

"No you’re right, we didn’t Red. It’s just a box." Jake joked.

There were a few chuckles as she opened the case it and her fingers skated the silver and gold metal women’s divers watch nestled in the deep blue silk casing. "Oh my god…" she whispered, reaching in to pull it out. She then looked up again, smiling widely. "Guys…I …it’s amazing, thank you."

"Try it on. Come on cracker, I wanna see what my money bought." Max demanded.

"Our money." Rachel rolled her eyes at him. Max shrugged, stuffing more toast into his mouth.

Ari gently reached for it and took it from her, slipping it over her outstretched hand before he gently fixed the clasp. Hannah turned her arm over to look at it and smiled glancing up at the table.

"This must have cost you all a fortune…"

Jake leaned back grinning. "Ah, you’re worth it Red." And then he grimaced and looked at Ari, almost apologetically but Ari just chuckled.

"You’re right."

"Thanks guys, I love it." Hannah said before standing and giving Max, Jake and Rachel a hug in turn before she sat back down and gave Ari’s hand a quick squeeze where it was resting on the table.

Sammy cleared his throat and slid a gift bag and another wrapped box over the table "The bag is from Mama, I collected it from PS the other day and this…" he tapped a box "This is from me."

Hannah reached over, placing her hand over Sammy’s on top of the box and giving his fingers a squeeze. "Thanks Sammy." She spoke sincerely, her eyes locked onto her brother’s and he gave her a smile. She pulled the box towards her, opened it and gave a loud laugh and a squeal as she eyed up the item inside.

"Fuck Red, that’s a polaroid. That’s fucking awesome." Jake exclaimed.

"Oh my god I can’t wait to use this!!" She jumped up and rounded the table towards her brother. Sammy also got up and the pair of them hugged. Hannah closed her eyes, pressing her face into Sammy’s chest as his arms wrapped around her tight, and she recognised the hug for what it was. AN apology. Ari glanced at Rachel who gave him a small smile before he turned back to the siblings. Hannah stepped back and smiled as Sammy kissed her head and Ari could see Hannah was nearly crying.

"Thanks Sammy, I love it." she said, trying not to choke on her words.

"You’re welcome Han."

She sat back down, wiping her eyes and reached for her mother's gift, letting out a little gasp at the white crocheted skirt and top.

"Woah, did she make this?" Rachel asked, admiring the items of clothing.

Hannah nodded proudly. "She’s awesome. She’s made me loads of tops and stuff over the years."

"Remember the shirt she made me out of the old paisley curtains from the lounge?" Sammy asked smiling slightly.

Hannah grinned back. "Yeah…that shirt was actually kinda cool."

"Wait, wait..back up…you actually wore a pair of curtains?" Max asked, visibly shocked.

"Oh no, tell me you didn’t." Rachel shook her head at Sammy.

"Scarlett O’Hara did, why wouldn’t I?" he shrugged.

The table erupted into laughter, Jake shaking his head and launching into an impression “As God is my witness, I will never be hungry again.” "Come on, that’s a Max line." Sammy protested.

As the banter struck up across the table Ari leaned down to whisper in Hannah’s ear. "Feeling better?"

She nodded. "Loads." She then smiled and raised her wrist. "I know this was your idea. I told you I wanted one in Port Sudan."

"Yes, you did." Ari flashed her the Levinson smile.

"Thank you." she whispered

"Anything for you, firefly." he whispered, lost in her eyes.

She looked at him, the way he was looking at her was making her feel dizzy, but they were broken from their moment by Max and Jake howling with laughter. They tore their eyes unwillingly from one another to see Jake was banging the table with his fist.

"You wore it to a club? Holy shit…hey Red, please tell me there is a photo of this douchebag in the curtains…." he said through a fit of laughter.

Hannah grinned. "Mama will have one. I’ll get her to send it to me."

"Don’t you dare!" Sammy pointed at her. But she just grinned and shrugged.

Eventually, they made it through breakfast without any incidents and then Hannah decided she wanted to have some fun with the Polaroid, excitedly asking Jake to take one of her, Ari and Simon.

"Hah. Family portrait…yeah why not…" Jake quipped.

It took him 3 shots as the damned dog wouldn't play ball and kept looking anywhere but at the camera until Max walked up behind Jake with a pastry in his hands. Simons’ ears perked up as he eyed up Max’s food and thus Jake managed to get a nice shot of the three of them. Ari’s arm looped around Hanna’s shoulder, casually as hers was round his waist, Simon at their feet.

Hannah then offered to get one of Ari and Simon for him to send to Maya and Ari agreed. Crouching down, he gently posed with Simon, one hand round the dog as Hannah smiled and then whipped the Polaroid film out, shaking it furiously before she collected the ones Jake had made to look at them.

"Are you done with the photo shoot? Coz some guests are waiting for their diving tour." Sammy interrupted, being the natural buzzkill he was. Ari noticed the slight acidity to his tone but luckily, before Hannah did, Jake chipped in.

"This is vogue Sammy…" he joked, striking a pose.

"Yeah, like your curtain shirt." Hannah sniggered.

Sammy rolled his eyes, an unexpected soft smile on his face as he turned away.

"Is it me or is he being very calm?" Ari asked, squinting his eyes in the direction Sammy had left.

Hannah hummed. "Almost too calm. Anyway…" she said, handing Ari the stack of Polaroids she had taken as she turned to follow Jake.

"Where are you going?" Ari asked.

"Where do you think? I got a new divers watch to test out!" she chimed while raising and tilting her left wrist at him.

Ari smiled fondly as she saw her back away. Shaking his head Ari looked down at Simon who was looking at him and then turned to look at his owner. Ari snorted. "Go on."

The dog trotted after Hannah, tail wagging. Ari watched them go, and for once he didn't feel a shred of bother at the sight of Jake tossing an arm around her. The confrontation with Sammy hadn't been great but it had blown their cover and now everyone knew she was HIS girl. He felt better, relieved.

He glanced down at the Polaroids and smiled softly at the one of him and Simon, then the 3 of them, but it was one of the outtakes that made him pause. Simon was looking off to the right barking and Hannah was looking down at him, laughing as she watched him, Ari sporting a huge grin on his face. But it was Hannah’s expression that struck him. Her eyes were crinkled, those dimples he loved were on full display, her mouth wide open, curved into a loud giggle.

Outtake or not, he was definitely keeping that one.

*****

Part 3

#leave no one behind #Ari Levinson #ari levinson x ofc #ari levinson x original female character #red sea diving resort #chris evans #chris evans characters

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narniadynasty · 4 years

Photo

Suddenly there came a most frightful jerk and a noise | When that awful jerk came I thought it was the beginning of a railway accident | I remember thinking it was taking the bend far too fast | There was a frightful roar and something hit me with a bang | There was a real railway accident | All of you are dead

Edmund sits quietly for a moment on the bed, staring at the painting, wishing for it not to be the end. He glances down to see Lucy give a wavering smile, trying to put on a brave face, and all he can do is shrug a little in return. Eustace smiles a small smile at them, much lighter than before making Edmund square his shoulders before he stands, Lucy rising alongside him as Eustace leads the way out of the room. For a moment it’s only him and Lu left, but while she starts to follow their cousin, he can’t help but take a glance back at the painting, hoping for something.

There is no something though, just a still painting of a ship at sea.

“I guess that’s that, Lu," Edmund says in solemn voice as he finally takes a step through the doorway, heart aching and eyes dry.

“I guess so,” is all she says as she closes the door behind them with a solemn air.

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Edmund’s quiet in the days after their return. He’s always been the quiet one but now his silences are as heavy as his heart. It isn’t long until Peter shows up on the Scrubb’s doorstep waiting for Lucy and Edmund to join him on the way to the train station to pick up their parents and Susan. Lucy races through the station flitting between people like a bird, leaving Edmund and Peter watching with fondness clear in their eyes. Edmund goes to follow but Peter stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Lucy wrote to me about what happened, Ed,” There’s no accusation or question in Peter’s voice about why Edmund hadn’t done so but it doesn’t stop him from feeling the sharp sting of guilt anyway.

“What of it?" he asks in a low voice. He doesn’t want to have this conversation. Not here, maybe not ever but Peter doesn’t heed the silent plea in his voice. Peter doesn’t put the conversation off until later, until never. Peter makes the decision, and Edmund follows.

His brother takes a step in front of Edmund so he has no choice but to look at him. “I know it’s hard but you’ll be okay, Ed. You might not be able to go back, but that doesn’t mean you lost everything about Narnia." He says with a raised head and a soft sad smile, no doubt remembering his own final moment in Narnia. Edmund opens his mouth to speak, wanting to convey to his older brother, his High King, just how terribly and deeply he aches but before he can he catches a glimpse over Peter’s shoulder, of Lucy greeting Susan and their parents.

He sees the way Lucy dives straight into Susan’s arms.

He sees the way their parents avert their eyes to hide the minuscule hurt and summon almost believable smiles when Lucy finally turns to them, her hands gesturing widely and shirt untucked.

He takes a deep breath and swallows thickly, vowing to himself right then and there that he’s never the reason that such an expression crosses their faces again.

“I know, Pete,” he says with a smile and before Peter can question him further, before Peter can see how fake his smile really is, he steps around him and walks to where the rest of his family waits.

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Edmund sits quietly, reading at the garden table. A warm breeze sweeps through and he can hear the low soothing humming of his mother drift outwards, to where he sits, from the open window of their house. Lucy’s somehow wound up in the tree again, on one of the highest branches she could, swinging her legs back and forth to a rhythm only she knows while Peter tries to coax her down. Without much success, Edmund notes, because he keeps stopping to laugh at the youngest child’s antics in between the threats to ‘climb up the damn tree' himself to get her. Susan steps out from out the house, wearing a much to big hat for ‘blocking out the sun, Edmund’ despite the fact that ‘the sun went down about an hour ago, Su.' She's dressed in a lovely purple dress her father had bought her months ago.

"Edmund, come on!” Lucy shouts loudly from her a top her new throne, having taken to outright ignoring Peter’s attempts. “Eustace is coming soon and he wants to hear more about our adventures in Narnia!”

For a moment, Edmund is tempted. Tempted to share his stories with the still uncertain young Eustace, who struggles with reconciling who he has become with who he used to be. Tempted to reminiscence about Mr. Tumnus, and the Beavers, and Mr. Fox. He wants to speak about the young Tarkheena, later the Calormen Queen of Archenland, he’d met who was as hard headed as a certain young Pevensie sister. About Philip, his stead, his friend, who would always offer an ear for Edmund and his worries. He wants to describe the beauty of the Cair, their home, their heart. How he’d traversed vast lands and seas even more daring and adventurous than the last.

For a moment, Edmund is tempted.

But the humming has abruptly cut off. His mother's voice has fallen silent and if he strains his ears hard, he can hear her quiet shuddering breaths as she tries to collect herself once more, and in that moment he can’t help but think ‘Oh Lucy, you absolute fool.'

For Lucy, Susan, Peter, and Edmund, their time in Narnia was grand and adventurous. But for their mother who knows nothing about that other world, that beautiful world, all she can think of is her children, her babies, leaving and not knowing if she’ll see them again. How she sent them away —for their own safety— but sent away all the same. All she can think is how her children, children who have aged much more than they should have by anything in an old man’s old home, came back to her, different and strange and very much not children anymore.

The association of 'Narnia’, has become synonymous with the fear of never seeing her children again. It means having these much too old souls in these child-like bodies, that look like hers but they’ve grown and barely recognize her anymore, return.

Edmund watches Susan join Peter under the tree and he lets out a sigh as he stands, stretching his arms out. They await his answer eagerly, even Susan and Peter, no doubt excited to tell their adventures to this new audience, even if it is an audience of one.

“How about you tell them for me, Lu?” He asks instead setting his book down as he starts to trek back inside. “You’re a much better storyteller than I am.” He can hear his siblings squabbling over which adventure to tell and when he glances back for a second, regretful, Susan’s eyes meet his and she nods a small nod knowing where he’s going. He smiles, a soft saddened smile before turning back to where his mother, who's stifled sobs grow louder with each step closer, sits, heartbreak heavy in the air.

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"Have you made your decision, Mr. Pevensie?” the advisor asks him, sitting with interlocked hands resting on the desk before him. Edmund sits quietly on the other, his feet planted solidly on the ground as he gazes around at the very brown coloured small room. He thinks about his future and his family and finds his heart set and mind made.

“Yes,” he says almost without conscious thought. “Law. I want to study law.”

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Edmund’s always been the studious type. And he finds himself quickly falling into a pattern each night, prepping as he must for his exams and future studies.

“Ed, you still have so much time until you actually start!" Peter cries one morning. He’s gotten back from studying with Professor Kirke and he’s bored sitting at home all day while Susan and Lucy have gone out with their mother. “Come on! Let’s go out to town for an hour! Or better yet, Eustace keeps telling us about how he and his new friend, Jill, have had quite the adventure in Narnia! You haven’t heard but...” and here is where Edmund forces himself to stop listening as he falls deeper in the thrall of the intricacies of the legal system. He doesn’t talk much of Narnia aloud anymore, has found himself on the alert to see where his mother and father are every time ‘Narnia’ is mentioned.

Lucy cares about her parents, how can she not when it comes to family, but she’s already grown and lived and Peter and Susan have been the ones to raise her, not mother, not father. She’s the youngest, and the freest, and does not pick up on the falseness of their parents smiles whenever ‘Narnia’ is mentioned. 'A hummingbird, indeed,’ Edmund muses privately to himself as he watches Lucy flit away at something new that has captured her attention, unknowing of the harsh blows she has dealt to her parents, left behind with false smiles slipping into pained frowns and tear-filled eyes. Their mother turns away, fingers raised to her lips as if to smother away the heartbreak that threatens to release, silent in her grief. Their father's hands are clenched into tight fists as he watches Lucy laugh and turn and run, eyes drenched in the colour of sorrow.

Susan’s much more knowledgeable and understanding of her parents and does her best to not bring it up whenever they are home, but mistakes are made as it is bound to happen with an almost taboo word and parents. She slips and finds herself declaring aloud to Edmund one afternoon of how ‘that’s not how we did it in Narnia, Edmund,’ over some mundane thing, oblivious to her parents who have returned, earlier than expected, for the evening. Edmund sees and the smile he had, his Susan-smile freezes abruptly. Susan notices, the darkening of his eyes, the clenching of teeth, because of course she does, a mother to a brother too young. She turns slightly as if shifting her weight but with that small expert movement her hair falls on her side shielding her eyes, as she catches a glimpse of her heartbroken parents behind her. She turns back to Edmund, quiet and sorry, eyes wide and heart broken as their parents take the stairs back to their room, silent.

Peter notices the changes in his middle siblings but he’s been off with Professor Kirke learning the ways of medicine and barely has time around the house anymore. He doesn’t think much of it when he comes home because Lucy is as loud and present as ever. Susan, stubborn and likely to glare daggers at him at the slightest mishap. Edmund has grown taller but that solemn quiet air is still ever present. He doesn’t notice, his mind whirling with new procedures and chemicals and technologies, how ‘Narnia’ is barely mentioned at home. Lucy still brings it up as much as she had before he’d gone. What he doesn’t notice is how Edmund ushers his parents away when he sees that look in Lucy’s eyes, head drooping while as if he shoulders a weight unseen, before she can open her small mouth and tear her parents apart once more. How Susan is quick to use every bit of diplomacy and conversational tactic she’s learned during their reign to get the conversation back to something mundane, something un-Narnian. He doesn’t notice because Susan still talks about Narnia with him when it’s just the four of them or they’re out of the house, away from their parents keen ears and fragile hearts. He doesn’t notice because Edmund still listens when they meet and speak of Narnia. He doesn’t notice how Edmund barely contributes to these talks anymore, how he’s always citing ‘homework’ as an excuse to leave as fast as he can. He doesn’t notice.

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Susan stands in the doorway of his room, one foot in and one foot out.

“Edmund,” her gentle voice flows through the slightly too warm room, soothing an itch in his skin he didn’t notice. He turns from his seat at his desk where he’d been buried in more and more books than usual. “Are you quite sure you don’t want to join us?” He can hear Peter’s voice drifting through the open doorway, loud and exasperated as he tries and gets Lucy to wait for him and Susan. He can hear Lucy’s quick steps as she goes for the door chanting "Let’s go let’s go let’s go-”

Edmund looks at her in confusion at first, mind still whirling with the new information he’s spent hours learning. It takes him a moment, a moment where Susan looks at him cautiously hopeful, a moment where Peter and Lucy’s voices grow smaller as they step out of the house, but he remembers all the same. Remembers about the regular meet up with the Professor Kirke, because he would always be Professor, and the others. Remembers how Ms. Polly Plummer would be the one to greet them at the door and how she’d usher them in with kind hands and an even kinder smile. Remembers how Eustace had taken to being accompanied by Jill after their own adventure together, how they’d barge in rushing past the Pevensie siblings, Jill leading. For a moment he wants, wants to say yes, wants to be there in step with Peter, Susan, and Lucy, wants to see the Professor’s twinkling eyes with still so many adventures to share, wants to stifle his laughter as he hears Jill and Eustace being scolded for their running in the house by Ms. Polly in the other room.

But then reality hits, as it often does, with a sharp smack on an unsuspecting face.

He remembers his assignments and readings and deadlines. He remembers how he’d promised his mates he’d be there for the next town trip seeing as he’d missed out on the last two, for his studies. He remembers his Professors expectations and imagines their frowns if he fails.

“I’m sure, Su. Maybe next time.” he says with a soft forlorn smile turning back to his studies once more without another glance. He hears her dejected sigh but is already slipping back the books of statistics and origins of different laws that he can’t bring himself to give her another glance.

(He’ll wish he had later.)

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There is a knocking on the house door that won’t stop. A sense of unease seeps through him as he realizes that there is no other voice in the house. No steps rushing to the door to see who’s there. No noise except for his all too loud breathing in a much too silent home.

He goes to answer, finding it strange how his parents haven’t returned from their visit at Aunt Alberta’s. ‘Strange,’ he repeats to himself wondering about his siblings absence because it is already much later than they usually stay out during the Narnia roundups.

He reaches the door and finds himself pausing without a clue why. His heart skips a beat and fear creeps its way in. He swallows in the heavy silence, calling himself a fool for thinking for even a second that something’s wrong.

‘They’ll be home soon,’ he tries to assure himself. He gathers his courage and grips the doorknob hard and pulls it open in one quick movement, knowing without knowing why, that if he doesn’t at that moment, he’ll never open it.

On the doorstep stands an officer

...and Edmund’s heart breaks.

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The funerals took place over an hour ago.

He’s at his Aunt and Uncle’s, but finds himself hiding out in the upstairs room to get away from all the condolences and pity. He’d wanted to get away for just a moment, just one, and had bolted the first chance he’d gotten, his mates offering a distraction from anyone who’d notice.

He’d taken the stairs two at a time and walked quickly as fast as he could and opened the first door he could think of when he’d finally slowed to a stop and couldn’t go up anymore. He shuts the door with a shuddering sob before realization crashes through him as he turns around.

Lucy’s room.

He’s in Lucy’s old room.

Lucy’s room from when they’d stayed with their Aunt and Uncle in what feels like a lifetime ago. Where he’d hide out from Eustace every chance he could before they’d gone on an adventure together. Where he and Lu would read Susan letters, always together. Where they’d talk about the adventures that Peter was in for after when he would finally finish his studies with the Professor. Where parcels from his parents would remain unopened until Lucy was finally awake. Where Lucy smuggled cakes and candies and everything sugary stealthily before their Aunt could see.

Lucy’s room with the floral bedspread and almost white walls.

Lucy’s room with a photograph of Susan and Peter, smiling, before boarding a train to their schools forever ago, on the bedside table.

Lucy’s room with a painting of a ship at sea.

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