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corpsebasil · 11 months

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Hii!!!!! Can I request a nikolai x reader where she hates nikolai with every morsal in herself but she soon realises the reason she hates him is cause she is scared of liking him as she has had a bad experience with men in the past. And one day he traps her and asked her what he has done to make her hate him so much and she breaks down about what has happened and how she loves him so much. His smile, face, personality, his kind and caring attributes and they share a heartfelt kiss

Sí

Do You Love Me-> N.L.

The Lady that lives in the Grand Palace is immune to the Prince’s attention.

He wouldn’t. Leave you. Alone.

You didn’t like anything about him. Not his stupid face, or his ridiculous sense of humor, or his cocky attitude that made you want to vomit when you watched him turn on the charm for other women. You especially hated him when constantly you badgered you, seeking you out.

“Lady Y/N, darling!” You heard a cheerful voice call behind you as you worked on stitching up a tear in your nightgown. You flinched and poked yourself in the finger, cursing under your breath as you stuck the wounded digit into your mouth.

The prince entered uninvited; he had a habit of showing up in the middle of the day, bored after his state meetings around noon and desperate for entertainment. That was all you were, apparently. Entertainment.

“Your Highness.” You greeted tightly, glancing up from your perch on your window-seat, your knees tucked up to you chest. “And to what do I owe this grand displeasure?”

“I’m bored.” He sighed, dropping onto your couch. Of course he was. “I’ve missed you desperately.”

“You saw me at dinner yesterday.”

“You didn’t even speak to me.”

It was true. He’d been trying to get your attention for at least an hour. He’d even gone so far as to wave dramatically, drawing your annoyed eye slowly to him, only for him to flash you a beaming grin.

That was it.

He just wanted to smile at you.

“Maybe you should take the hint.”

You could almost hear his aggressive eye-roll. Nikolai swore he’d never rolled his eyes so much before he met you. Every since you’d come to the palace, a beautiful lady of high ranking, his breath had been ripped right out of his lungs. You’d been polite, at first. Sweet even. But as he spent more time with you, tried harder to be your friend and eventually court you, you grew cold.

And he didn’t know why.

“You look stunning today.” He tried again, smiling sweetly as you glanced up, your eyes meeting his.

“I know.”

“Glad you know. I love a confident woman.” When you ignored him, he pressed on. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

“It’s definitely another day in Ravka.”

“I have a proposition. We could—”

“Not interested.”

“You didn’t even hear it.” He whined, and you looked up.

“Anywhere you are—” you began, giving him a firm stare, “—is where I do not want to be.” You returned to your stitching, smiling in amusement to yourself.

There was a weighted pause, and you glanced up. Nikolai’s expressed flickered for a moment, before smoothing into neutrality. He stood, wiping imaginary dust off of his trousers.

“Of course, well. Wouldn’t want to burden you.” He said crisply, and tugged something out of his pocket. He laid a piece of paper down on the couch and you were surprised to see the tips of his ears had gone a bit pink. “I bought tickets for that play I know you like. What is it? The one with the skull and the emo guy?”

“Hamlet?”

“Yeah, that one. We don’t have to sit together. Or—you can go, and I’ll stay here.” He smiled tightly and nodded, leaving your bedroom before you could say a thing.

That night, you did go to Hamlet. And it was amazing.

You got back to the palace feeling like you were walking on air; something about the theater made your heart sing, and you were surprised Nikolai knew anything about that.

You walked down to the hall to your rooms, clad in a splendid dress that swept across the floor, emerald jewelry dangling from your ears and neck. Gifts from Nikolai, obviously, but they were the best options you had, so of course you wore them. You weren’t vain enough to toss away emeralds.

You had barely gotten your handle on the doorknob when a guard stopped you, handing you a piece of folded stationary.

“Lady Y/L/N.” He greeted, nodding his head. He passed it to you wordlessly and you entered your rooms, breaking the seal as you walked. Then you paused, eyes flicking up to your coffee table.

A bouquet of spring flowers were in a grand vase on the table, as beautiful as any flowers you’d ever seen in your life. You were pleasantly surprised; you loved flowers. You smiled and moved over to smell them, then flicked open the note, eyes running across the elegant script.

‘Y/N,

I hope you enjoyed Hamlet. I certainly enjoyed sitting in my room all night pretending I was there. Imagine me holding a skull and whining about my dead friend. (Was it father? I don’t remember.) Anyways, I’m sure you looked magnificent. I heard from some servants that you were the prettiest Grisha they’d ever seen as they saw you leave.

I know they won’t, but I hope the flowers I sent will amount to even a fraction of your beauty. Maybe you’ll hate me a bit less tomorrow.

Yours,

Nikolai.’

Something tugged at your heart at those words, especially the last line. You grumbled to yourself and tossed the note into the bin, right on top of a multitude of others that he’d sent you. Some were long rants about what he’d did that day and requesting you write him back. Some were just one line, things like ‘you looked beautiful at dinner’ or ‘thinking about you by the way’.

It was annoying as hell and you didn’t know how to get through to him that you had no interest in the prince whatsoever. Sometimes it felt like he only chased after you because you were only woman he couldn’t have. You’d seen the way he flirted and had no interest in any of that.

Breakfast was a fun occasion, one in which you and a few of your Grisha friends sat at a small table in the tea-room, laughing over delicate sandwiches and tiny cakes. You had just popped a small slice of strawberry into your mouth, clad in your favorite green silk robe, when you glanced up.

Nikolai was entering the room, heading over to a group of men that were eating their own breakfasts. Soldiers, by the looks of them, all in uniform and ridiculously attractive. Your eyes tracked him, keeping watch on his movements as he approached the soldiers. They stood and laughed, grinning as they clapped him on the back and ushered him into a chair, their boyish voices loud and carrying.

Nikolai’s eyes darted to yours, as if magnetized, and you glanced away.

“He’s so handsome.” Your friend Marley sighed, propping her chin on a hand as she stared at the prince.

“He’s average at best.” You countered, following her gaze. “I mean really? Blondes?”

“I’m more of a brunet loving girl myself.” Lina said, pointing her fork at you. “I agree with Y/N. But he is rather handsome. I think he’d be my exception.”

The fourth girl at the table, Joanna, simply wrinkled her nose. She was into women, and had no interest in this line of conversation.

“He’s a guy. Who cares.”

“Y/N..” Marley purred, and you did not like her tone one bit. “I heard Nikolai got you invitations to the play last night.” She grinned. “And you went. Did you guys snuggle in the carriage the whole time?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“He didn’t go.” You said calmly, looping one leg over the other knee.

“What?” Both Marley and Lina exclaimed, and even Joanna looked surprised.

“Why not?” Marley asked, voice rising an octave.

“I didn’t want him there.”

“But—but he’s the prince.”

“Only you would find a way to turn down the most ridiculously high-ranking bachelor in the kingdom.” Lina grumbled.

“She’s a duchess in her own right.” Joanna argued, tucking a piece of her dark, shoulder length hair behind an ear. “Just because he’s a prince—”

“But he’s a prince!” Marley told you, eyes wide, and her voice carried a bit too loud. You cringed as the soldier’s table quieted down a fraction, then erupted into male laughter. Marley blushed.

“Go ahead and let all of Ravka know what we’re talking about.” Joanna grumbled, wiping her hands and standing up. “I’ve got to meet up with Rebecca. See you ladies later.” She beamed, wiggling her fingers at the three of you before sweeping out of the room, her cream-silk robe billowing behind her.

You shot Marley daggers with your eyes and the honey-blonde girl ducked her head, smiling to herself.

“I’m just saying.” Lina whispered, voice much lower now. “You guys need to come to my room around ten. Trust me.”

“Will there be fireworks? Copious amounts of kittens?” You asked drily. “Because that’s the only thing that’s going to interrupt the novel I’m reading.”

“If it’s one of those filthy novels I know you read, then you’ll like it.”

You wrinkled your nose.

“What?”

“Geez, Y/N, lighten up. Just come.” The black haired beauty groaned, her smooth tan arms crossing onto the table. “Pleaaaase?”

You glanced between the two girls, back and forth, then nodded.

“Fine.”

They both squeaked rather loudly, again too loud, and against your better judgement your eyes slid over to Nikolai. He was watching you, a soft smile on his face, and you felt your cheeks flush.

“See you then.” You said and abruptly stood, fastening your robe tighter around you.

And as you left the room, you could’ve sworn you felt his eyes tracking you the entire way out.

“Oh my god.” You scoffed, eyes wide as you yanked the current shut. “You didn’t tell me we were going to perve.”

“Just look at them.” Marley giggled, face practically glued to the window.

The guards were on their morning run, which included every soldier at breakfast, all shirtless and jogging across the front lawn, down the back trails to the woods. Which included, to your dismay, Nikolai.

Your mouth went slightly dry.

He was more ripped than half the men around him, golden skin glistening with sweat as he kept up with the very front of the pack. You were alarmed to see he was laughing, whereas some of the men behind him were red-faced and breathing hard.

“Does he—” you stopped yourself. “Do they always run at this time?”

“Mhmm.” Lina said, smiling coyly. “Right under my window. Makes for a lovely after breakfast treat.”

“You two are horrible.” You said, but a smile was pulling at your mouth. Your eyes went back to Nikolai, watching his back muscles flex as he ran ahead, chasing after the man in the very front as they rounded a corner. You tried not to laugh when the two began racing each other, full out sprinting for the lead while the others kept steady pace behind them.

“Ask it.” Lina demanded, and you raised your brow. “Ask what you want to ask.”

“I don’t—”

“Ask me you coward!”

“Fine. Does the prince always run with them?”

Marley and Lina exchanged looks.

“He served in the military…you know that, right? Of course he trains with them.”

You blinked. You’d always thought he was a pompous flirt. You had no idea he was a soldier. Nor that he was packing that much muscle under his outfits of state.

“I um. I didn’t know.” You admitted, biting your bottom lip. “How…strange.”

“He’s so brave.” Marley swooned, slumping dramatically against the window. “I would literally kill to be you. Kill.”

“No threats.” Lina giggled, poking Marley. “Anyways. They’ll come back around in about ten minutes. Let me grab my binoculars.”

You rolled your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose. Your friends would be the death of you.

You left Lina’s room, face flushed from laughing. You indeed had ended up using the binoculars at one point after much peer pressure, and the view was…well… You felt immensely creepy after about two seconds and tossed them back to her, saying that ladies of your stations shouldn’t bend to such inappropriate behavior.

So you walked down the hallway, towards the gardens, eager to get some fresh air when—when—

He didn’t see you at first, eyes closed as he drank from a water bottle, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. A hand-towel was looped around his neck, his bare chest glistening with sweat and—

“Y/N?” He called out, and your eyes snapped to his face. You hadn’t realized you’d frozen in place, ogling him like a damn lunatic. “You okay?”

“Mhmm.” You squeaked, raising your eyebrows as if to ask, what’s it to you? “Why are you topless? Decided to be a little sluttier than usual?”

“Slutty?” He scoffed, moving over to you as he screwed the cap on his bottle, an amused glint in his eyes. His teeth flashed in a grin as he stood in front of you and he was so tall up close you had to tilt your head up. “How am I slutty?”

“Running around flirting with everyone.” You said, raising a finger as if to tick off the reasons. “Sleeping with anything with a pulse. Oh—” you tapped your chin, pretending to think. “—and weren’t you caught at that orgy party last week? Everyone heard about it.”

Nikolai’s smile grew lazy and he tilted his head, his blonde hair curling a bit with the moisture of his sweat. His eyes scanned your face, then grew mischievous.

“Well.” He started, wiping his face off with his towel. “Since you’re so interested in my sex life, Lady Y/N, I’ll have you know I haven’t had sex in over a year.” You flushed and raised a hand for him to stop, but he continued. “I’m flirtatious by nature, sure. But you must know by now the only woman I want is you.” He leaned in closer, chills spreading across your body as his voice brushed the skin of your neck. “By the way, sweetheart? Lina’s windows are see-through.”

When he nipped your ear you jolted, lurching away with a flushed face, and his laugh echoed down the hallway as he walked past you, headed to take a shower.

“Nice binoculars by the way!” He called over a shoulder, and you wanted to kill Lina.

You sat in your rooms. You paced. You groaned into your pillow and sat up, crossing your arms over your chest. You hated him. You hated him. And yet the ghost of his teeth still warmed your ear, and his voice—and his body, and—

No. Absolutely not.

You let out an annoyed sound and rubbed your eyes, standing up to wrap your robe around yourself as you paced some more. You’d had experiences with princes. Arrogant assholes that wrung you out like a towel and left you to dry.

Prince Achileas was the last straw, a pompous ass that had made you feel completely in love. All until you found him mid-fuck with one of the servants, an affair you discovered had gone on for a long time. Possibly during your entire courtship.

You would not make that mistake again, ever. You would marry a nice, non royal, totally normal boy who—

A knock.

“Who is it?” You called after a beat, and the door opened a crack.

“May I walk you to dinner?” Nikolai asked, sticking his head in the door, and your patience was at its wits end, images of Achileas still haunting your thoughts.

“My god cant you just—” you bit your tongue hard enough to draw blood and his eyebrows knit together.

“Can I what?”

“Fuck off and leave me alone?” You snapped, but immediately regretted it when a wounded look crossed his handsome face. He opened the door a fraction wider, leaning against the frame.

“What did I do to you, Y/N?” He asked, voice soft but strained. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“Because!” You fought for words, a flush rising in your cheeks. “Because you annoy the shit out of me. You chase after me like a damn lap dog. What do I have to do to get through to you?”

He flinched like you’d slapped him, then held his hands up in surrender. You’d never seen him look so hurt; every rejection, every rude comment, was always swept under the rug as he tried harder and harder.

Now he was done.

“Alright.” He said, and it sounded like his words had to travel over a lump in his throat. “I’m sorry. I apologize for following you around, and for trying to love you. I’m sincerely sorry.” Nikolai closed the door before you could respond, a soft click that made you wish he’d slammed it.

You were such an idiot.

Because you’d been lying to yourself. You knew, somehow, that he was genuine. That he kept trying because beyond your icy exterior, he saw something in you he longed for. And you, deep down, though you didn’t want to admit it—had never admitted it—had cared for the prince for quite some time now.

Fighting the ache in your throat you sat on your couch, pulling your knees to your chest, and decided not to go to dinner.

A week passed and you’d been watching, waiting, for him to find a new girl to chase. But he didn’t. In fact, he seemed to be a dimmer version of himself. He only spoke to his fellow soldiers, and avoided your presence.

It all came to a head at the nearest ball, one you were forced to attend by your friends, you eyes tracking Nikolai’s figure as he leaned against the wall, completely ignoring the party. You’d been following him with your stare all night, the hurtful words you’d said to him seared into your mind.

“What’s wrong with him?” Lina asked you, nudging your arm. “He’s been going on night runs alone, lately. Never used to do that.”

“I don’t know.” You lied, though your heart ached as you watched him.

Your eyes met and you saw him take a deep breath, his brow furrowing as you made eye-contact. You hoped he could see your pleading expression and apparently he did, because he pushed off the wall and headed in your direction.

Your stomach churned.

“Shit.” Marley squeaked, snatching Lina’s arm and dragging you away as the prince neared you, stopping a foot away.

“Enjoying yourself?” He asked, tone flat, and he was surprised by the immediate ‘no’ that left you. “No?”

“Are you?” You shot back, and he gave you a sad smile.

“No.” He told you, tilting his head. “You’ve been watching me. Making sure I leave you alone?”

“Nikolai—” You stopped, pained, and blinked up at him. “I’m sorry.” Your voice lowered and you felt ashamed at his stunned expression. “I’m really, really sorry.”

You were relieved when he didn’t make you work for his forgiveness; his face relaxed, a hesitant smile on his mouth.

“Y/N,” he sighed, blinking up at the ceiling. “I appreciate your apology. But if you truly do not want me to pursue you, I won’t.” You stared, but then he offered you his hand. “May we dance?”

You nodded wordlessly, ignoring the tightness in your chest, and allowed him to lead you out onto the floor. His hand found your waist, pulling you close, and you realized this was the most he’d ever touched you. His fingers locked with your own and you caught your breath.

“You’re so beautiful.” He murmured a minute into the dance, then cringed, like he wished he hadn’t said it. You closed your eyes, absorbing the feel of his hands. When he spun you and pulled you back in, he tugged you closer than you were before.

You took a shaking breath at the scent of him, and the warmth of him, and you remembered his words. Sorry for trying to love you. You’d never been truly loved by any man, only hurt, and it was hard to believe that Nikolai, the kindest, most generous man you’d ever met, could love you.

“I’m sorry.” You told him again, and his grip on you tightened. He tilted his face closer to yours to listen as you spoke, his blue eyes gentle. “It’s just—I’ve never—” you swallowed. “I’ve never been treated…right. Loved. And I didn’t trust you at first. It was easier to push you away.”

He sighed and shook his head.

“I’d have given you the world, Y/N.” He said, expression pained. “Anything you wanted. All of me.” He glanced down, eyes meeting yours. “I would’ve been yours.”

Would’ve.

The past tense isn’t lost on you and you pulled away, feeling stupid, and sad, and lonely and—and what had you expected? Him to still want you after what you’d said? You didn’t realize a tear of grief and self-hatred had slipped down your face until he cupped your cheeks, a low noise caught in his throat as his forehead touched your own.

“My sweet angel.” He murmured, tilting your face up. “I like you better without your claws.”

You didn’t care if this was inappropriate, didn’t care about onlookers, not when he kissed your brow softly, his smile weak when he pulled back. He gave you a nod that broke your heart and moved away, disappearing into the crowd.

You left the party.

Nikolai found you later, around midnight, sitting on the ground with your back against a stone bench in the garden. It was raining, a light sprinkle, but you’d been out here so long staring at nothing that your hair and dress were wet. You hugged your knees, chin propped on one leg, lost in thought.

“Lady Y/L/N?” The prince called, and you cringed at the formality. You didn’t turn, though, only stayed still as he sat beside you, blond hair growing damp. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You swallowed the knot in your throat before speaking.

“Are you sending me home?” You asked, voice strained as you stared ahead. The fear had began to plague you the moment you’d left the party. Without the prince’s affection, would he let you stay?

“What?” Nikolai demanded. When you only sniffled he turned your chin with his hand, forcing you to look at him. “Why would I—Saints, no, Y/N.”

“But you said you—you said would’ve. I ruined everything.”

“Do you love me?”

“I’m scared Nik, I’m scared to hurt you again—”

“Do you love me?”

“—I’m scared of being hurt—”

“Y/N.” He gripped your chin tighter. “Do you love me?”

“Fuck. Yes okay? I do and I cant stop and—”

Faster than you could blink he lunged into you, crushing your mouth to his. You swayed from the impact and collapsed against the wet grass, his body dropping onto yours. Your lips separated and you laughed, his eyes brighter than you’d ever seen them.

“God, say it out loud.” He told you, calming his amusement to kiss your cheek and temple. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you.” You said with a soft smile, and he kissed you again.

SORRY I GOT CARRIED AWAY LOL

#shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #wattpad #nikolai x reader #shadow and bone imagine #fluff #six of crows #angst #Sturmhond

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frostandflamesfanfic · 1 year

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Of Sweets & Sweaters (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Of Sweets & Sweaters (Rated T)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader (gender neutral)

Word Count: 2.1k+

Warnings: Brief language and suggestive comment made by Steve, nothing too crazy.

Summary: Stevemas Day 5- A few months after the Great Hawkins 'Quake, Robin decides to throw a little holiday celebration for the party and the older kids. However, Steve isn't too happy with the dress code. Is there anything you can do to convince him otherwise?

“Hey, babe?” Steve’s voice called out from your shared bedroom.You had to bite back the smile that threatened to stretch its way across your face at his tone of voice. It was fairly obvious what his whining could be about. What was so wrong about having a little fun in the process?

“Yes, honey?” you replied in the sweetest tone you could muster.

“You love me, right?”

You couldn’t help it; a small snort escaped. “Of course I love you. Why would you ask that?”

“Because if you loved me,” your boyfriend’s voice grew louder as he approached the kitchen, “you wouldn’t be forcing me to wear this absolute and utter monstrosity.”

He stepped into the room wearing the brightest red sweater you had ever seen in your life. Covered in pom-poms and tinsel, Steve looked as though he had stepped right out of an offensive Christmas card. To top it all off, there was very exaggerated Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer stitched into the front of the sweater.

You gave a low whistle. “Damn, babe,” you mused. “And here I thought it looked good on the mannequin. This is so much better. I think red really is your color.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve raised an eyebrow. “Well then, where’s yours? I wouldn’t want you to miss out on sharing this experience with me.”

You smiled and held up your hands, which were currently covered in dough. There was a dusting of flour all over your clothes, making you look as though you had spent plenty of time in the fresh snow from the previous evening. For the last few hours, you had been slaving over a hot oven putting together the fixings for some of your friends’ favorite holiday desserts.

Dustin loved brownies, especially when you folded pieces of Three Musketeers bars into the batter. Eleven had found herself becoming partial to your peanut butter blossoms, although it’s most likely because Mike introduced her to the best part: the Hershey’s kiss. There were cookies for Max and Lucas, who preferred to have their snacks on the go. Nancy always preferred the elegant classics, so you went with a chocolate silk pie, which you knew she would love to share with your queen of sweets: Robin. For Eddie, you made your spiked eggnog meltaways, which you knew for a fact Jonathan always stole a few bites of when no one else was looking.

“My god, it looks like a bakery exploded in here,” Steve remarked, walking over to the counter to swipe some cream cheese frosting that you made for Argyle and Will’s pineapple-banana hummingbird cupcakes.

“Hey!” you exclaimed, swatting his hand away after he stuck the dollop in his mouth. You tried your best to shoo him back from your workstation. “You have your own desserts coming. I’ve been baking for four days now. Wait your turn, mister.”

“Desserts, as in plural, hm?” Your boyfriend sidled up behind you and snaked his arms around your waist, face buried into the crook of your neck.

“I may have made that chocolate bark you love so much,” you said with a hum, allowing yourself to melt into his hold for a moment. There was something so special and intimate about these moments with your boyfriend. Steve made you feel like you were the most important person in the world, not just to him, but everyone. You always hated attention, but the love and admiration you noticed in his eyes every time he tells you he loves you makes you overlook that distaste – if only just to see him happy.

“Oh, yeah?” Steve smiled against your skin, his lips pressing against it in the form of many light kisses. You had to refrain from giggling. “What else?”

“And there might be some fresh gingerbread in the oven right now.”

There was a gentle nip to your ear, which was accompanied by wiggling fingers that danced along your sides. “Mmm, nothing else?”

You gasped and turned to swat at him again. “Steven Joseph Harrington!” you exclaimed. “You get your mind out of the gutter this instant! How dare you try to seduce me while I’m baking for the children.”

Steve groaned. “I can’t help it how hot you look in that apron, babe,” he whined. “Just want to eat you up.”

A hot flush burned at your neck as it spread up and across your cheeks. “Well, maybe later,” you stuttered out. “But for now, I have to get back to work on these treats if they’re going to be ready for us to take to Robin’s tonight.”

In preparation for the holiday season, yours and Steve’s shared best friend, Robin Buckley, had decided to throw a little impromptu party for your friends. After everything that had gone on in your small town over the years, she was determined to salvage one of the happiest (or, to quote the great Andy Williams, the most wonderful) times of the years. She had been planning the party for weeks, selecting only the “best” Christmas films of all time and records that would keep everyone feeling the Christmas spirit – even if it meant playing a few Black Sabbath songs for Eddie. Everyone was meant to bring something to eat and you had volunteered to bring the desserts. While you had nothing against the local bakery, there was nothing like the taste of a freshly made baked good that came from the heart rather than a plastic container.

The only catch? The dress code was U.C.S.O.:

Ugly Christmas Sweaters Only, otherwise known as what Steve liked to refer to as his own personal hell.

Speaking of your boyfriend, he sighed and stepped away from torturing you momentarily to run his fingers through his dark brown hair. “Fine,” he relented. “Do you need any help, though?”

With a sigh, you glanced around the warzone of a kitchen and placed your hands on your hips. Everything was pretty much done for the most part. There were a few things in the oven, but everything that needed to be prepped before the party was already set aside and cooling. “I mean, I think I’m just about done. Just have to clean up and get everything out of the oven.”

“If you want,” Steve offered, “I can finish and clean up so you can get ready.”

You felt your heart grow soft as you smiled at the man before you. “Really?” you asked. “You’d do that for me?”

Your boyfriend shrugged. “Of course! How could I say no to my baby like that? I would be, like, the world’s worst boyfriend then, wouldn’t I?”

You giggled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Not the worst. But you would most certainly still be the cutest.”

“Well, shucks, babe,” Steve teased as he began to roll up his sleeves. “I’m flattered.”

With a wink, he pulled on his yellow rubber gloves and procured a sponge from beside the faucet. His outfit reminded you of the old days, back when your relationship was still new and the two of you were battling an alien dog that had eaten one of your babysitting charges’ cat. While you were glad those days were behind you, there was still a part of you that missed the adventure and worried if the quiet domesticity would be enough for Steve.

It wasn’t that you were afraid it wasn’t what he wanted– the two of you had had a lengthy conversation about your futures, with both of you being in agreement of wanting to start a family together at some point. You were more worried about the fact Steve may become bored with the idea of a domestic you, where the most rebellious thing you did each day would be whether or not you cut the crusts off your sandwich.

“Babe?” Steve’s voice cut through your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. When you glanced over to acknowledge him, you noticed the concern practically radiating off of his face. “Are you okay?”

“Hm? Oh, uh, yeah,” you tried to console him. “Just…got lost in thought is all.”

Unfortunately, that hardly did anything to lessen the stress your boyfriend exhibited. His frown only deepened as he set down the sponge and pulled the gloves off to cradle your face in his hands. There was an emotion you couldn’t quite place flickering in his expression. It was almost like a twinge of sadness mixed with…guilt?

“Are you sure?” he asked, more urgently this time. “You looked like you were in, like, another world or somethin’.”

Oh.

It made more sense now. Ever since the earthquake, Steve had been increasingly protective over you. He worried about your every move for months, especially since you had become seduced by the siren song of a ticking clock. The same song that took the lives of so many others. It almost took you away from him, too. The night you froze in his arms, shaking in fear with eyes rolled toward the back of your head. They didn’t know your favorite song, they didn’t know how to save you. In an act of blind desperation, Steve had hummed the only song he could think of, which was coincidentally the first song you danced to at the kid’s Snow Ball: Time After Time.

You can still remember how soft and broken his voice sounded as he sang to you.

“If you're lost, you can look, and you will find me,” he whispered between tears. “Time after time. If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting. Time after time.”

If you didn’t believe in the power of true love before then, you did the moment you broke free from the trace and came face-to-face with Steve’s teary hazel eyes. When he finally realized you had come back, he pulled you into a dizzying and searing kiss you can sometimes still feel if you think about it. It wasn’t just a declaration of love, or the feeling of relief, but a promise of a future he one day hoped to share with you.

“Steve.” You reached up to grab his face with your own hands. “I’m fine, I promise. I was just thinking about things.”

“Are- are you sure?” His voice came out a bit crackly, as though he was on the verge of anxious tears.

“Absolutely one-hundred-percent sure,” you assured him. With a bit of additional height gained from being on your tiptoes, you pressed a kiss onto his lips. I’m here, it said. And I’m not going anywhere.

“Now. I’m going to go get cleaned up and get this flour out of my hair so we can get ready to go. If we make them all wait for too long, Robin’s gunna put us on dishes duty.”

Steve groaned. “But we already did so much…”

“No, I did the baking. You just stood there and looked pretty.”

Your boyfriend playfully lifted a nearby dish towel and proceeded to swat at your butt with it. “Okay, that’s enough outta you, babe. Go get ready.”

- - - - - - - - - - - -

About an hour later, you arrived back downstairs feeling refreshed and excited for the holiday festivities that undoubtedly lay ahead of you for the rest of the night. You tugged are your sweater, hoping the material wouldn’t rise up too much over the course of wearing it. When you had washed the sweaters, you had made the mistake of drying yours a bit too long. You were pretty sure it had shrunk, but there was nothing else you could do about it.

“Well, damn,” Steve let out a low whistle. “I think it’s official. My baby can make anything look good.”

Flattered, you blushed and gave your boyfriend a playful twirl. The sweater wasn’t that much different than his. Fashioned from a similar red colored yarn, your sweater boasted more snowflakes that pom-poms. A non-red-nosed reindeer outfitted the front, its grin appearing a little too eager for the holidays. Tinsel adorned the neck and wrists of the top, as well, ensuring that you’d definitely stand out alongside Steve.

“Why thank you,” you teased. “But I still think you wear Melvald’s originals better than I do, babe.”

“Remind me to burn that store to the ground one day.”

You rolled your eyes and slipped on your coat. “It’s not that bad, Steve!”

“Says you!!” your boyfriend argued. “You literally look smoking hot, while I’m over here looking like a very festive tomato.”

“Ah, yes. But you’re my festive tomato.” You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before you picked up a tower of cookie containers. Was this potentially too many desserts? Possibly. But what else are the holidays for if not enjoying sweet treats with the ones you love most?

“Come on, tomato boy!” you called from over your shoulders. “Help me load in these desserts so we can go show the kids just who means business at Christmas trivia.”

==============

Author's Note: Anddd we're back. How's everyone enjoying Stevemas so far? We're almost halfway through at this point, and I have to admit, I'm starting to lose a bit of steam. I have about four unplanned fics left to write, so if anyone has any Christmas (or other holiday season) ideas, please feel free to send them my way!

If you enjoyed this story, make sure to leave a comment, tag a friend who might be interested, and give this post a cheeky reblog! These types of interactions really help me out as a writer. They tell me what you like to see and keep me motivated and writing! I mentioned this last time and I think it helped out a bit with the engagement, so if you want to stay in the loop of all things Stevemas or any of my other fics, don't be afraid to follow or ask to be included in my tag lists. I promise I'm a very friendly person who won't spam you too much with my fandom musings :)

Until next time, my little sparks <3

Taglist: @bakerstreethound

#frostandflamesfanfic #steve harrington fanfic #steve stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington x reader #gender neutral reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #joe keery #joe keery imagines #twelve days of stevemas #ficmas 2022 #ugly Christmas sweaters

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grey-gazania-fic · 9 months

Text

A Stitch in Time

Elrond, Caranthir's wife, and a Fëanorian heirloom. Rated G.

The quilt had been added to the twins' bed during their first winter at Amon Ereb, after two nights spent curled together for warmth. Clearly their captors — caretakers? Already the lines were blurring — had noticed, and had taken steps to remedy it. It smelled of cedar and gave their room some much-needed color. Large enough to cover the bed of a full-grown man, it was more than sufficient for two children, and could even be folded in half for extra warmth on particularly cold nights.

And it was utterly unlike the other quilts they had seen, with their neat, regular blocks and clear patterns. This one was a rich riot of reds, golds, and browns, with different fabrics cut into asymmetrical shapes and quilted in winding, stylized, visible stitches. It quickly became a comfort, something that could hold Elrond's attention when he was ill or injured and confined to his bed. There seemed to constantly be something new to discover — here a sliver of fabric soft as lamb's wool, there a quill picked out in neat, tiny stitches. Tiny brass bells hung at three of the corners; the forth was adorned with a slender gold ring sewn on in blunt stitches of crimson thread.

And yet, somehow it never occurred to either of them to ask about it, not until they were half-grown and fast becoming too large to comfortably share a bed. It was Elros who gathered up the nerve to speak, after he had helped Maglor move a second bed into the room and begun to take his share of the blankets.

"You can keep using the quilt," he said to Elrond. "I know how much you like it." And then, turning to Maglor, he said, "Who made it, anyway?"

"Our sister-in-law," Maglor said after a moment of silence. "Caranthir's wife." And then, before either of them could ask, he added, "She stayed in Aman."

Caranthir, Elrond knew, was the brother who had built the keep, and one of the three who had fallen in the attack on Doriath. He wondered, sometimes, about those brothers. What had they been like? Did they have Maglor's gentleness or Maedhros' wry humor? Were they as tired-eyed and worn as Fëanor's remaining sons, at the end? But the topic was clearly closed, as Maglor folded down the last blanket, clapped Elros on the shoulder, and left the room.

And so the quilt stayed on Elrond's bed, always there to greet him when they returned to Amon Ereb each winter. And when Maedhros and Maglor informed them that they were being taken to King Gil-galad, after their protests had broken like thrown dishes against the wall of Maedhros' will, when they had given in and begun packing, Maglor had folded the quilt up and placed it in Elrond's bag, just on top of Maedhros' herbal. The corner with the ring rested face-up, and he traced it with his long, strong fingers.

"It's his wedding ring, isn't it," Elrond said. It wasn't really a question; he'd guessed as much years ago.

Maglor nodded. "It feels like I'm sending a piece of my brother away with you," he said with unusual candor.

"You are," Elrond said. "And I won't forget them. Or you."

The Sons of Fëanor were not good men, but neither were they wholly evil. Someone needed to remember that. Maedhros was grim and deadly and cooly logical, but he was also a patient teacher, prone to unexpected dry wit but never mocking his students. Maglor was equally deadly, but he had soothed their nightmares with his gentle voice and taught them all the lore he knew.

And the others…he'd learned about them, slowly. Celegorm, who had spent half his childhood sneaking his dog into his bedroom or running wild in the woods. Caranthir, who had liked numbers better than he liked most people but who had spent nearly every waking hour at Maedhros' bedside while he recovered from his torment on Thangorodrim. Curufin, whose own son had denounced him but who had spent a full day designing Himring with one hand tied behind his back, making certain that his brother could live there without hinderance. Amras, who had dragged his twin into trouble at every opportunity. And Amrod, who felt such kinship with the Green-Elves of Ossiriand that he had nearly abandoned Quenya entirely for Sindarin.

Someone needed to remember those things, after Maedhros and Maglor were gone.

"You know that we knew Gil-galad's father well," Maglor said, dragging Elrond's attention back to the present. "If they're anything alike… You'll be in good hands."

Elrond didn't answer, but wrapped his arms around Maglor in a last, unspoken goodbye.

continue reading on AO3

#elrond #sons of fëanor #sons of feanor #caranthir's wife #parmacundë #my ocs #quilting #grief #the silmarillion #silmarillion fanfiction #silm fic #silmarillion writers' guild #silmfic #tolkien fanfic #tolkien #silmarillion

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mppmaraudergirl · 2 years

Text

in retrograde

a jily drabble stuck in my head that I must now share with you all

It is a Tuesday in October and the sun breaks through the clouds scattered across the horizon line, a force of nature finally fracturing the chain of consecutive overcast days. But those days have left their mark in the form of mud all across the backyard of the Potter's home in Godric’s Hollow. Mud into which four-year-old Harry Potter slides without reservation, a fearlessness James sees himself in as he watches.

These moments mean everything to the Potters. James had lost count of the sleepless nights he spent worrying about whether Harry would ever have a childhood and if he did, what that childhood would be like surrounded by war.

It is impossible to tell whether James or Harry are messier half an hour later when Sirius appears.

"Hey Prongs. Clearly you're ready to set off, then?" asks Sirius, smirking.

"Thank Merlin for magic, eh?" James gestures and Sirius gives a half-hearted wave of his wand, removing the worst of the dirt from his friend. "Cheers. Lil is having a lie-in."

"A lie-in, eh? Late night, was it?"

"You know Lily would hex you if she heard your tone, yeah?"

"Only when I'm right," Sirius lobs back.

James shouldn't react, shouldn't have to bite back a grin or a chuckle but he can't help that he does. Even years after getting together, he still can't help the swagger he sometimes gets in his step. But he must try. "I'll just pop in to see if she's ready to hang with Harry and we'll set off. Keep Padfoot out of trouble, Harry."

"Okay!"

The cottage is still quiet apart from the soft mewling from the cat lounging in their sitting room. As he passes the kitchen, still surprised his wife hasn't emerged from bed yet, he sets the kettle to boil and turns sharply down the hall that leads to their room.

Typically he might linger in the doorway, a shoulder pressing into the door jamb as he gazes in the room, taking in the silence and the softness of the room in which he doesn't exist. But today Sirius is in the back of his mind propelling him forward.

"Hey Lil," he murmurs softly, coming to his wife's side, lightly sliding the duvet down to get a better look. "Time to wake up." He slides his fingers through her hair as she stirs. "Lil. It's nearly nine."

Lily finally blinks, bright green eyes visible in the light pooling through the cracks of their still-drawn curtains. They go wide in fear at the sight of him. "Potter?! What are you doing here?"

"I—what?"

"Why are you in my"—she looks around, springing up into a sitting position—"where the bloody hell am I?"

The fear in Lily's voice makes the room swim around James. "What… Lil, you're scaring me a bit."

"Don't call me that," she bites out.

"Don't call you… by your name?" James asks slowly.

"You never call me Lily let alone Lil, Potter. What is this place? What did you do to my dorm?" Her eyebrows stitch and then bow. "Where the fuck have you taken me, Potter? I swear your iota of Quidditch talent isn't going to save you from expulsion for-for kidnapping!"

The air is drawn from his lungs. "Are you having a lark?" He half prays her answer is yes; a voice in his head tells him otherwise.

"Does it look like I'm enjoying this?" she hisses back.

He reaches for her on reflex; the anger on her face compels him to console her; the fear in her eyes begs him for soothing.

"Don't touch me!" She reacts by pushing herself further away, onto his side of the bed. "My wand! Where is—what have you done—?"

"It's here."

His heart clenches at the thought of giving her this weapon now of all times when she's looking at him with such uninhibited hatred. But he knows it's what she needs at this moment—this nightmare of a moment.

Her breathing steadies a bit when her fingers wrap around her wand and James wishes he could say any part of him is calm right now, that every passing second isn't tearing him into pieces.

"Explain." Her tone and wand are pointed at him. "Where am I?"

He swallows the Lil on his tongue ("Don’t call me that!") before clearing his throat. "You are at Godric’s Hollow."

"What's that? Why am I here?"

"You…" He closes his eyes, knowing the next words will be irreparable… But then, what choice does he have when the woman before him is unrecognizable as his wife? "You live here."

She arches her brow. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

His heart sinks. "Of course I don't."

Every part of him needs deliberate action. He urges his lungs to breathe, reminds his heart to pump, tells his mouth to swallow down the fear that's climbed up his throat. "What is the last thing you remember… Evans?"

Lily still eyes him with suspicion, not lowering her wand, but her eyes drop as she considers. "Potions… I think Slughorn was passing back our practice OWLs…"

He exhales. "Are you… you're absolutely certain?" Please tell me you're joking. What happened to you?

"I… yes, I think so. Did something happen?" She throws the covers off of her; he forces his legs backward and runs into the door jamb. "Am I"—she looks down—"Whose pajamas…? I… Merlin, you're taller than I remember."

"You should sit down," he tells her, begs her. "Sit down, Lil." on our bed.

"Stop calling me that or I'm going to hex you, Potter. Now move out of my way."

"Wait—!"

Come back to me.

She rushes past him, assured steps in an unfamiliar place—this observation frightens him more than anything in his entire life—and he tears after her.

He nearly runs into her at the end of the hallway as she stops short. His heart sputters when he realizes what has drawn her eyes.

A picture of them on their wedding day.

Tell me you remember.

"What the fuck—" She wrenches the photograph off the wall, swaying on her feet. "I'm in a wedding dress."

He reaches out in panic. "Lily. Let's sit, okay? You're… something is wrong but I know we can figure it out."

"Oy Prongs!"

Merlin.

Harry.

Not Harry. Not now.

"Padfoot, no! Don't let Ha—!"

"Mum! Mum! Padfoot and I made a mudpie feast! Come see."

She turns at the sound, the world slows just as Harry, tracking muddy footprints through the house, reaches her.

James just manages to catch Lily before she hits the floor.

#jily fic #jily fanfic #james potter #lily evans #drabble #canon divergent #😌😌😌😌

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valiantvillain · 3 months

Text

WIP Tuesday

Apologies for the late reply to @adflictionem tagging me. It's been a busy time lately.

So this time around I decided I'd share a snippet from the prologue of the original project I've been working on called Into the Wilds.

__________

In a four-poster bed, canopied and adorned in velvet and brocade whilst propped up upon a mountain of tasseled pillows, a boy no more than six years of age once burned from the inside-out. Sweat ran down his frail body in rivulets, coated him in a slick layer of suffering and sick that soaked through the satin sheets as surely as the magic fighting to escape the bonds of his body sparked and crackled like kindling. Flesh burned and bubbled as the fires raged beneath his skin, glowing like embers behind his fluttering eyes and singing his lashes short. Every exhale scorched the air and the boy trembled and writhed with each wave of roiling arcane flame beneath his skin. Desperately trying to kick off the sheets for some sort of relief with every rising and falling bulge of hot air that distorted his small body. Charred lips coughed forth ash and vomit in equal measure while his attendants worked furiously to ease his pain, brows beading with perspiration from the proximity and lips moving in fervent incantation behind their masks.

They had tried to don the typical masks with their long, curved beaks full of fragrant herbs, their meager respite from the stench of bile and malaise and threads of magic gone rotten and withered. But in addition to scaring the child, an already addled mind warping them into nightmares, they had only melted and peeled away in his presence. So sweltering and relentless had he turned the very air itself. The three of them had scarcely been in the room for more than an hour and already Randel’s robes cleaved to his damp skin, his throat as bone-dry as a desert and he had to wipe the sweat from his brow against what little purchase could be found on his shoulder. He dared not lower his arms for if he did, he could not guarantee they would come back up again. There was only so much thread one could pull from the Great Tapestry and if one kept spinning and weaving then maybe you could convince it to let you eke out a bit more, and he had been coaxing it to allow him a stretch more for several minutes, shifting spells like notes in a song through gritted teeth and bleary eyes. He feared that if he stopped for a single moment, even just to rest, he would cut the cord entirely. Whether temporarily or for good, well, no one knew anymore. Not these days. Not when any day you could awake to find the very same threads you once called friends strangling you, dragging you down into the depths of the illness you had been called to cure.

Nor was Randel’s job the simplest. A year ago, his greatest feat had been piecing together a bone nearly shattered to splinters. A long and laborious process that had lasted days, hours spent coaxing and weaving to put every meticulous piece back in its place like a mosaic and fuse back together again. If only he had known the incident would have made him invaluable, given him an air of expertise he had not felt then and certainly did not now. He had cleared the rot from lungs, purged impurities from blood, and reconstructed the odd mauled limb or face. But to knit the delicate tissues of organs back together only for his carefully stitched seams to be ripped apart by the raging arcane in one’s own body and be forced to re-repair the damage even as he worked to shield another from the onslaught...that was another matter entirely. It was exhausting. Even more so when you were all too aware that the very same could happen to you, and you might not even have the luxury of a mother holding back tears at your bedside unable to so much as hold your hand.

Across from him, Kinbor’s slender fingers shook, and her eyes welled with tears of frustration as every summoned sheet of ice melted and steamed in an instant. The woman was a war magus, far more accustomed to conjuring storms from across a battlefield and cooling the fever of an injured soldier than bearing witness to babes slaughtered from within. They were all called to a single cause now whether they liked it or not. Trying and usually failing to pull the lives of their fellow mages from the brink, and then praying to all the kids they’d live long enough themselves to see the end of the scourge.

At least if he died here, Randel’s parents could say he made it to the royal palace. Maybe they would even frame his letters. He did not care to think how creatively the plague might turn his own magic against him. Maybe his blood would turn to bile. Maybe it would choke him by calcifying his flesh to bone. Or maybe everything in him would simply wither one part at a time. He had yet to personally see how it ravaged one like himself, though he knew it had happened. Such was the nature of disease and the death it carried.

What a time to have finished his training. What a way for so many to awaken to what should have been the greatest cause for celebration, the realization of grand potential and opportunities. Only for it all to be rendered a death sentence.

Behind him, the sister sobbed, her face buried in her mother’s skirts just as it had been the day before. The boy was lucky, Randel had surmised in the span of his first week coming and going from the lad’s finely furnished room, spares were often given far less. After all, another could always be made. Yet even as the many toys had been cleared away for the ease of the stampeding steps of healers and doctors alike, no expense had been spared. Had it not been for the other two lots now recovering in their borrowed chambers, they would have known no rest caring for him around the clock as they were.

Were they not constantly checking themselves for signs, they might have felt more automatons than people. Did they even taste the food they shoveled into their mouths these days.

The boy’s mouth moved, but only parched breaths came out.

“Somebody, get the lad some damn water,” wizened Jackin hissed beneath the strain of fruitlessly seeking the heart of the ailment yet again. Each day seemed to bear him yet another gray hair.

“I-I’m a little busy,” chattered Kinbor, every word wisping pale before her blue-tinged lips.

They knew better than to make demands of Randel at this point. Restoring life to the charred and blackened half of the boy’s spleen was currently taking up half his focus, the other was preoccupied with fending against the voracious flames licking at his liver.

It was the mother who dutifully put the bowl of tepid water to her son’s lips. He swallowed weakly, wheezing and sputtering as she pressed her lips into a thin line. Half spilled down either side of his wan face, hollowed out by the weeks of illness and confinement.

#tagging game #wip #original work #high fantasy #magic yay #it's very rough #i just started actually writing this today #quite literally

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the-void-writes · 5 months

Note

Thank you so much Timi! 💖 For this one, I’m working on an idea I had for Will falling into the hands of a dangerous Celestial, and having to rely on a reclusive hunter for survival. Here, they’re bonding and making promises for the future. I hope you guys enjoy it!

“Do you want to know something funny?”

Romero looked down at the frail, soft-spoken man on the bed, weakened by the continued rituals of Aphelion and his guests. He could see each mark on Will’s skin where the Moon God tried to cut, and where his Infection stitched him back together. The very thing that had almost killed him was now the only thing keeping him alive.

“What is it?” Romero asked, hoping to keep him conscious in case those wretched creatures came back.

“I get why my father fell so hard for Rio. I always kind of understood it, but now I know what he was thinking.”

“And what’s that?”

“He was scared, and miserable, and all alone. If it weren’t for Rio’s comfort, he wouldn’t have lasted in that building, and I wouldn’t have found him. Rio helped him live again.”

Romero nodded respectfully. “The right person can pull you out of the darkest depths. Harper showed me that… and Ione right after him.”

“And you.” Will’s sad eyes flickered towards Romero for a moment. “If you weren’t here with me, if you hadn’t given me hope, I would have gone insane.”

Romero let out a deep sigh. His hand lingered on Will’s, a gesture he shared with Ione to let her know he was there. Will squeezed his hand in return.

“I’ll get you out of here,” Romero said, “I swear on it.”

Will smiled and sat up, taking a look around his room. It was undoubtedly the smallest room in the entire palace, only large enough to fit a bed and an old dresser, with a long ascent into darkness in place of a ceiling. In a regular building, this room would have been a crawlspace in the walls for a tiny mouse. Despite the size being an afterthought, it had still been beautifully decorated with quilts and flowers from Paradise. Nothing but the finest for Aphelion’s prized possession…

The Celestials never predicted that a human would stay in Aphelion’s domain for so long. Then again, they never predicted that the Moon King, with his distaste for humanity, would fall in love with a man from the world below. Will was “just like him,” he had said, a being of unfathomable power. All they needed to do was cut him open so his godly essence could walk the halls as intended.

Preston, Bluebrook, the Celestial Kingdom… All his life, everyone wanted him to be someone else.

Will looked out the window at the landscape of the Celestial domain. The grand hills were made of stardust, strange and colorful plants dotted the horizons like trees, and comets rushed through each one like rivers. Everything buzzed and hissed and roared across the land, a symphony of the stars themselves. In another world, Will could have spent hours traversing the cosmic plains, happy to live out the dreams of his childhood self.

Now, the sight of the world he once loved made his stomach churn. The view was a trap, a piece of bait meant to draw Will further into the arms of the creature who made it, a creature who didn’t plan to let him go. If Will couldn’t become a god like Aphelion wanted, then a pet would do just as nicely for him.

Romero tapped his shoulder gently. There was more warmth in his eyes than when they had first met, which Will didn’t blame him for. He wouldn’t have been happy in his shoes, either. Aphelion had killed Romero’s fiancé, for the same reason he would inevitably kill Will for. No one should be forced to confront a creature like that again for someone else’s sake.

Still, his battle-scarred eyes held no animosity towards Will. Dare he say, they had a familiar shimmer, like how Dante would look at him.

“Are you able to stand?” Romero asked.

“Yes, but— We can’t leave yet. You wanted to kill Aphelion, to avenge Harper.”

“I’ll avenge Harper by getting you out alive.” He bowed his head. “But I appreciate your concern.”

“Romero—”

“We can’t leave, anyway. The Celestials are scattered all over the place, and you’re not properly rested. We wouldn't get far.”

“Then what are we doing?”

Romero kept his eyes on the floor. “You have this look in your eyes, the kind Ione has when she’s weighed down by her thoughts. I thought I could help you, if you’d like.”

He reached out his hand, and Will took it gently. They stood in the center of the room, and with the cosmic symphony outside to guide them, Romero led him in a waltz. His hand was pressed against his back, and he could feel each soft vibration as Will laughed at himself for stumbling over his feet.

His smile was brighter than any star outside.

“Sorry,” Will said, “I’m sure Ione is a much better dancer.”

“She’s surprisingly talented. I guess that temple was good for something.”

“Right. ‘Come on down to the Temple of Sapphirus. We can make blind women dance, if you let us feed your family to a god.’”

Romero bit his fist through his mask. It hurt to laugh, but he couldn’t help it. Will smiled at him as they spun around, the starlight from the window turning the world around them into a whirlpool of color.

“Romero?”

“Yes?”

“I know we’re not close, or anything—”

“Please, feel free to speak. You and Dante are honorary members of our group.”

“Really?”

“He’s looking after Ione for me, I’ll never forget his kindness… or yours.”

“Then could you promise me something?”

“What is it?”

“You don’t have to give up your time for it, but if you could just check on Dante every now and then, I would appreciate it forever. He already lost Vani, I hate putting him through that again.”

Romero paused. “You’re going to see him again, I promise.”

Will smiled sadly. “You don’t have to make that promise. I know it’ll be impossible to get out unnoticed.”

“It’s not impossible. We’ll find a way—”

He faltered as Will held his cheek, the one that hadn’t been scarred. Romero couldn’t understand why his heart was beating so fast.

“Please, just promise me.”

“… I promise. Everyone you love, I’ll check on them.”

“Thank you, Ro.”

These feelings… Romero didn’t like them. Never mind that Will had a wonderful partner already, but he was also in captivity. His kind words and gentle voice shouldn’t have been weakening Romero so suddenly. He couldn’t help that the man was so much like Harper.

Maybe, in a different life…

“One more thing, if you don’t mind.”

“Tell me.”

Will laid his head on Romero's shoulder. “If I can’t leave… please kill me. I don’t want Aphelion to do it.”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t come to that—” Romero closed his eyes. “—but you have my word.”

He spun with Will for a while longer, both of them unwilling to let go, to face their predicament once more. It had been so long since Romero had people to live for, and this time, he would make sure they stayed out of Aphelion’s hands. The Moon King would finally pay for the pain he had caused, by losing something he “loved,” in return.

Romero would free Will. He swore it on his life.

#writeblr #ask games #wip: for all eternity

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infernaleikon · 2 years

Note

Prompt: “you can just sit there looking pretty; i’ll do the rest.’

okay, anon, you get more than five sentence because my brain decided it needed ~backstory~ for this. i hope you enjoy!

* * *

The Man’Duk’u celebrate the beginning of Mirak Zuval-Tam’Dur, their winter season, with a joyous, lavish festival, the likes of which Obi-Wan has never seen before, awed by the grandeur of the entire event and the exuberance of the people, and their guide, with the help of a protocol droid, had explained that for the Man’Duk’u winter is the season of growth and rebirth. Obi-Wan had asked the droid what the name meant, to which the droid had answered, “There is no word in Galactic Basic for it, Master Jedi. But the closest translation is ‘the one who tames the sun’.”

Anakin, swept up in the effervescent mood of their hosts, had convinced him to stay for a few short days longer, and Obi-Wan who’d watched him smile and pour incandescent brightness into the Force had been helpless to do anything but agree.

It turns out it’s worth it—and not just for Anakin’s open smiles.

Obi-Wan’s restrained himself from dragging Anakin away from the ball for hours but now, after a more than respectful amount of time spent at the ball, he leads Anakin to a plush chair in their quarters and pushes him onto with gentle hands before stepping away.

The Man’Duk’u had clad Anakin in a sheer, white tunic that has golden suns stitched in an irregular pattern across the cloth; the collar opened in a V over his collarbones. There’s a black waistcoat that slightly flares over the shoulders and the collar follows the shape of the tunic down to his waist where the ends are clasped tightly together. Fine golden embroidery covers the front of the vest in an intricate, broad pattern, wrapping around the entirety of Anakin’s waist. The top of Anakin’s hair is pulled back to a small bun that’s held together by a hair piece that spreads in a bow over his head, the ends of it jostling a little whenever he moves. His eyes are ringed with kohl and there’s a fine splattering of gold across his face, neck and collarbones that’s barely visible in daylight but seems to glow with a faint shimmer in the dark.

He looks radiant.

Obi-Wan could barely drag his eyes away from him all night—surprised himself at his body’s (and mind’s) reaction to the exquisite picture Anakin makes in the Man’Duk’u robes—annoyed whenever somebody else would demand his attention. Even with his eyes elsewhere, he would trail Anakin in the Force and brush up against his blinding presence, share with him the heat that’s been simmering beneath his skin since he first laid eyes on him tonight.

Anakin tips his head back to look at him and the ends of the hair piece tinkle softly. “Master?”

As much as Obi-Wan loves to peel Anakin out of every piece of clothing he wears at any given moment, he so rarely gets the chance to enjoy this: Anakin decked out in such finery, regal and delicate and mouth-watering in ways Obi-Wan didn’t expect. Obi-Wan grinds the heel of his hand against his own straining cock and watches Anakin’s glowing eyes snap to his groin with a slow smile, pouring his desire and awe into the Force and their bond for Anakin to taste.

Anakin sucks in a harsh breath, fingers tightening on the arm rests, as his own hunger leaks into the Force, scorching and all-consuming. “Master?” he asks again, rougher, a pleading note in voice. “What do you want me to do?”

Obi-Wan squeezes himself one last time before undressing. “You can just sit there looking pretty. I’ll do the rest.”

* * *

thank you! <3

#obikin #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #ficcups #ask #anonymous #fic ask meme #apparently i have thing for obi-wan going nuts over anakin in fine clothes #i have no regrets

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love-fireflysong · 1 year

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Welp, and as promised here's me once again restarting up WIP Wednesdays! I think we can all agree to just forget the fact that my last update for one of these was back in *checks archive* NOVEMBER????? Oh, uh shit. Huh. Damn that creativity slump was really kicking my ass there for a bit oops. Did not realize that it had been an entire four months since I last shared anything lol.

So, from the bottom of my heart: my bad. So please find it in your hearts to forgive me asjdhjakshdas.

Thankfully at least, I think I'm starting to find a nice after work/morning routine that should hopefully keep that creativity up again. Four mornings are spent cross-stitching for a couple of hours with a little bit of pc gaming afterwards, one (which is smack dab in the middle of those four days) is like 4-6 hours hanging out in a starbucks/library and ONLY writing, and the other two mornings are my days off of work where I just game for like 12 hours straight lmao. Routines are good for the heart and soul me thinks.

Plus, the slightly warmer weather and more sun is making me feel WAY better about life and picking my ass up out of that seasonal depression so that also helps a shit ton not gonna lie lol.

Enough taking about me trying to get some semblance of a life back together, here's the shit that (almost) everyone's actually here for: a teensy little sneak peak from my new outlast au piece!

The only reason that Ashley refused to give in to the pain though, was because she knew that no matter what pain she was currently feeling, Chris was feeling it magnitudes worse. That he could feel far more than the metal slicing into muscle, that he could feel the stickiness of the blood that coated Josh's back, the fabric of the more than likely entirely soaked jumpsuit digging into the cuts and making them only sting more. That he could feel each and every one of the small pieces of rubble that still continued to dig into the bloody palms of Josh's hands, left nearly shredded from his frantic attempts to chip at the thick wall of his padded prison cell in order to make a gap just barely wide enough for him to squeeze through. All as he dealt with not only the insistent, burning itch in Ashley's left arm from where the word carved there was still healing—plus whatever other aches and pains she had gained in the last couple of hours since her long-awaited release—but his own long, angry, and still weakly bleeding gash on his right arm. A parting gift from one Rick Traegar during his own desperate escape from the confines of the Male Ward. A ward that he had only barely managed to escape with his life in that first hour.

And now for the bit for the people who don't give a shit about my writing: cross-stitch update! Obviously not a huge amount of progress since my last pic, since I've only sewn once since then. But that skiploom is certainly coming along okay and should hopefully be finished tomorrow morning if everything goes smoothly!

#wip wednesday #my writing #cross stitch #until dawn #pokemon #outlast au #climbing chrash #is it bad that i missed putting these poor kids through absolute hell on earth and terrible emotional/physical trauma?#cause i really really have lol #anyways cross your fingers for me on friday morning when i sit down for another quarter-day session of writing #got one of my roommates to pick me up some earplugs when they went grocery shopping yesterday #and if i'm really lucky they'll be able to block out all noise so i won't get distracted from writing by the music playing in the starbucks #or the noise of people walking around me and talking in both places #or thats the hope at least lol #that what i really need when it comes time to concentrate when writing is just quiet #though i suppose also going to see a doctor and maybe getting back on my meds would help too now that i think about it #considering those meds are literally just to help me concentrate and focus on shit sjkdhaskdjhasd

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daydreaming-in-letters · 2 years

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For Auld Lang Syne

12/31/2021

Pairing: Henry Cavill x fem!reader (2nd person)

Word Count: 3,142

Warnings: rpf, mentions of breakup and heartache, mentions of alcohol, fluff

Summary: It's New Year's Eve, and the first night you manage to leave the safety of your home since Henry broke your heart. Unfortunately, your worst nightmare seems to come true when he attends the same party.

A/N: I wrote this a while back and kept it for the occasion. Happy New Year, folks. May it bring you everything your hearts desire.

Picture by RENXIN PAN via Unsplash

Divider by @firefly-graphics

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

A pair of cerulean eyes found yours in the crowd. Again. About two hours ago, you had lost count of how many times that had already happened this evening. But no matter how often they locked with yours, they always caused the same reaction. Infuriation.

It was almost cynical how things came together so shortly before the turn of the year. It was the last night of the year, and ironically the first night you had found the strength to leave the safe haven of your home in months. It felt strange and awkward to be around people for the first time since… Really? A wave of shame hit you hard when you realised that, although it had been more than six months already, you didn’t even dare think the words, too afraid they would rip apart your poorly stitched up heart again.

But as if this night wasn’t bad enough on its own already, your worst nightmare had come true when suddenly you had heard the dark timbre of his voice from across the room. At first, you had tried to convince yourself that it was only your mind playing tricks on you, but when you had finally mustered the courage to look behind you, he had actually been there. Like a deer caught in the headlights, you hadn’t been able to avert your gaze. He was gorgeous as ever, slightly tanned, stubbly cheeks, hair neatly combed back, the width of his shoulders sinfully displayed by the tight shirt he wore—a shirt, you noticed, you had given him—and on top of all this torture, he had started to smile, brightening the whole room with his presence. It had been right in that moment when he must have sensed your eyes on him and looked over to you for the first of many times this evening.

As if someone had detached your brain from the rest of your nervous system, you were unable to move and forced to watch in horror while he made an excuse to the person he had been talking to and pushed his way through the crowd of people to get to you.

No, this couldn’t be happening, not now, not tonight, maybe not ever. And yet you were trapped in your petrified body, forced to watch in disbelief as he came closer and closer, a hopeful little smile dancing across his lips that brought back all the memories you had been trying so hard to force aside with an ease that made you shiver. Memories of days you had felt almost delirious with happiness, so complete that you thought your heart might explode from all the joy you felt. Like a best of video, scenes of your favourite moments together flickered across the canvas of your mind, a summer day at the beach, a walk in the winter snow, a whole Sunday spent skin on skin in his arms, whispered words of affection, soft lips pressing to yours…

And then, as if someone had decided to cut your favourite movie against your will, the words that had broken your world into a million little pieces echoed through your head and darkness fell across your cinematic masterpiece.

With a jolt you snapped out of your trance, just in time as it seemed, and took a few steps backwards before you turned on your heels and vanished into the kitchen. As soon as the door fell shut behind you, you could feel the panic subside bit by bit. It was stupid, of course, to feel safe inside this room when he could just walk through that door any time he pleased. Yet, it was easier this way to pretend that you had just been hallucinating this worst case scenario.

But of course you couldn’t hide from him forever. He probably wouldn’t leave, even if it would have been the decent thing to do in your opinion. After all, this was your best friend’s party and he should have known that you would be here. Which made you wonder why the hell he was here in the first place. You knew for certain that Hannah didn’t invite him. She would never do this to you, especially not after nursing you back to life for half a year after the breakup. Maybe it had been her husband’s idea. Gerry had always taken a shine to Henry and you had suspected all along that they might have stayed in contact.

But it didn’t matter in the end because he was here now and you had to deal with it somehow. The only problem was, you had no idea how. The one thing you did know however was that you didn’t want this messed up situation to ruin New Year’s Eve for you or your friends. And so you pulled yourself together, shutting away the despair that clawed at your heart, and stepped out into the living room again.

For two hours, or to be precise, for two hours fourteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds, this had worked out perfectly fine. It hadn’t exactly been a piece of cake, but you had somehow managed to avoid him this whole time. Although there had been some pretty close calls. On top of that, you had also successfully pretended that you were absolutely fine with the two of you being in the same room, his eyes on you every time you checked if there still was a safe distance between the two of you.

You had almost started to believe that your acting skills might be even better than his, when someone raised their voice to announce in excitement that there were only fifteen minutes of the old year left. And with that, the crowd started to move. Some of the ladies vanished into the kitchen to prepare the champagne, others went to get their jackets to watch the fireworks outside and someone had switched on the telly for the live countdown.

Panic began to grab you in a tight hold as you realised what was about to come. Like every year, all of you would go outside, grab your loved ones and hold them tight. Just before the countdown, everyone would chant ‘Auld Lang Syne’. Why you had decided to do this before midnight was still a mystery to you, but as far as you could remember, it had always been this way, and then…well, then came the best part. Except when you were one of the few singles. In that case it would be a horribly awkward moment until your friends were finally finished kissing their partners and would turn their attention to the lonely ones with a pitiful look.

Suddenly it dawned on you that you hadn’t fully planned this through when you had agreed to coming here tonight. But now that the awful truth of what was to come had dawned on you, there was no way you would drive down this highway to hell with open eyes. Especially not with him close enough to watch you.

And so you did the only thing that seemed reasonable and hid in the bathroom until all the voices had disappeared into the garden. At first you had planned on staying here until all the hugging and kissing and cheering for the new year was over, but then again you loved fireworks and didn’t want to miss them for the world. However, the only place to watch them without getting caught would be the dining room and so you carefully popped your head through the door of your hiding place and had a look around the hallway. When your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you found that it was empty and darted over to the dining room. Feeling a little like a super spy, a small rush of adrenaline made it impossible to suppress a giggle as you shut the dining room door behind you quietly.

“Seems like you didn’t want to be the odd one out either.”

The smile fell from your lips instantly as you realised you weren’t alone. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, you were alone in a dark room with the one person you had been trying to avoid all evening. Immediately, your frustration mixed with all the anger you had kept inside since that unspeakable day and you could feel the hot venom roll through your veins.

“I never took you for someone who hides away from an awkward situation,” you spat coldly, “I mean, after all, you didn’t have a problem telling me to my face that you didn’t want to be with me anymore.”

Despite the darkness that surrounded you, you could see his face fall from your harsh words. But you told yourself that it was his own fault if he had come here, after everything that had happened, thinking you would play nice.

Yet, he didn’t rise to your deliberate provocation. Somehow you had known he wouldn’t. He had never been someone to lose his temper easily.

“Did you skip all the fun outside because of me?” he inquired calmly, taking a step towards you. And when you didn’t budge, he closed the distance even further.

“Maybe I did.” You sighed, rolling your eyes in frustration before you finally asked the questions that had been nagging you all evening. “What are you even doing here in the first place? You knew I would be here, didn’t you? So why did you accept the invitation? And who invited you anyway? Hannah?”

“Hannah didn’t know I would be here any sooner than you did,” he admitted. “It was Gerry.”

You narrowed your eyes to small slits. Gerry, that traitor. You would have a word with him later.

“I know what you think, but it really wasn’t his fault. I practically begged him to invite me.”

“What? Why?” Was he out of his mind?

“Because I needed to talk to you.”

Crossing your arms in front of your chest, you stared at him in disbelief. “You know, you could have just called instead of ruining this evening for me.”

A timid smile pulled the corners of his mouth upwards. “You never answer any of my calls.”

Outside, your friends had started to sing goodbye to the old year, their voices muffled through the glass, but the melody was unmistakable.

“All right,” you sighed. “Then let’s get it over with before the new year begins, so we can both have a fresh start.”

A glint of hope flitted across his face that was illuminated by the pale beam of moonlight that fell through the curtains.

“Well, since you seem to be in a hurry, I’ll make it quick. I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry. I was a fool for leaving you, Y/N, and I -“

You huffed, stopping his little speech abruptly, your head shaking in disapproval. After all this time, he actually had the audacity to come here to tell you that he regretted leaving you? And what did he expect now? That you would forgive him, just like that? As if he hadn’t ripped your heart out of your chest and crushed it so thoroughly that you didn’t know if it would ever be whole again. You could feel the tears that were threatening to spill, but you wouldn’t let him see them. And so you turned your back. For a moment, no one said a word, before you finally found the strength to speak.

“Do you have any idea how much you hurt me when you left?” your voice was quiet, inaudible to anyone but him above the chanting from outside.

But you didn’t really need an answer because obviously he either didn’t know or care about the distress he had caused and you had no desire to find out which one it was. And so you carried on, deciding to face him again so he could see the misery in your eyes.

“I was like a shadow, disappearing without the light. Whenever someone told me they didn’t know how to move on after a break up, I laughed at them and thought them weak. But now I know better. Because I’ve never loved anyone the way I loved you. And I probably never will again.”

You didn’t know where that had come from, but you sure were glad to finally have it out of your system. In the rush of pride you felt for your courage, it took you a moment to register what your words had done to him. But as soon as you saw the hint of a tear glistening in his eyes, you somehow wished you could take them back.

“I’m sorry. I know what you’ve been through and I wish you would have never had to feel that way.”

His voice was a little shaky and you didn’t doubt for one second that he truly meant every word he said. Then again, there was some part of you that still didn’t believe him, that still wanted him to be the bad guy, needed him to be, so that you would have a target to aim your remaining anger at.

“How would you know what I’ve been through?”

It seemed to be a legitimate question since—other than you—he had chosen not to be with you anymore.

“Because I felt it too. The loss, the pain, everything. And on top of that, the frustration about my own stupidity to leave you.”

He took another step towards you, but instead of the desired effect, he had hit the wound with the precision of a scalpel, cutting it open again and releasing the beast within.

“How dare you say that to my face? You didn’t even love me enough to stay with me when you still had me.”

You almost screamed now, your voice breaking at the end of your sentence. If you had been here with anyone else, you would have done the smart thing long ago and simply left. But with him, your mind didn’t work properly, putting your masochistic heart in charge. And so you stayed and kept on watching your own trip down disaster road. But never in a million years would you have taken into account what happened then.

“Of course I loved you. You were everything to me. You still are. Y/N, I love you so much that it scares me because no one has ever been that important to me before. But instead of embracing this feeling, and cherishing it as the treasure it is, I ran because I didn’t know how to handle it.”

For a moment there was complete silence in the room. Inside your head on the other hand, your mind was screaming a hundred different thoughts at once. Not knowing how to deal with that at all, your autopilot simply took over, making the fatal decision to blurt out the one thought that was even louder than all the others.

“You still love me?”

The softest smile graced his lips as he finally reached out for you, his warm hand gliding down the thin fabric that covered your arm until it reached your fingers.

“I do. I guess I always will. And even though I lost you, I wanted you to know that. That’s the only reason I came here tonight, because I needed you to know.”

You didn’t really realise what had just happened, a thousand thoughts still spinning in your head and making you dizzy, as his lips gently pressed against the palm of your hand and pulled you back into the moment. It was only then that you realised his words had been a goodbye. He was already about to walk away, when, without thinking twice, you reached out and grabbed his hand.

“Wait.” And of course he did, letting you pull him back around to face you. “What about now?”

His forehead wrinkled slightly when he didn’t immediately understand what you meant.

“Your feelings for me. Do you think you could handle them now?” you clarified and without hesitation his face lit up into a bright smile.

“I can. If you’ll let me. Believe me, I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”

You wanted to believe him so badly, yet you hadn’t forgotten that he had not always been as sure about his feelings as he claimed to be now.

“And what makes you so sure of it?”

“The fact that now I know what losing you feels like. And even more than wanting to avoid that feeling, I don’t ever want to hurt you so deeply again.”

Silence fell across the room again as outside the countdown had begun. But neither of you cared about that at the moment. Taking a step closer, your hand had found its way to his cheek while you allowed yourself to take him in for a moment, enjoying all the little things you had missed so much. The dimple in his chin you sometimes laid your finger into just to tease him, the little wrinkles in the corners of his eyes that deepened so beautifully whenever he flashed you one of his beaming smiles, the tiny freckle on his lower lip that you had kissed so often and of course his shiny blue eyes, perfected by their imperfect splash of brown.

With tender eyes he watched you, leaning into your gentle touch that he secured with his own hand above yours, afraid you might let go again, when the clock finally stroke midnight.

“Happy New Year, Hen Wen.”

Slowly you wrapped your arms around his neck, allowing him to pull you closer as well. You were sure that he could feel your heart beat against his chest, just as you could feel his, while the vibrant colours of the first fireworks illuminated the room. And then, finally, you felt him lean in, closing your eyes to fully succumb to the moment. His lips felt heavenly, just as you had remembered them, moving against yours with no hurry. The familiar taste of sweet malt and a touch of chocolate made you smile and even before he softly pulled away, you could feel that his lips mimicked your expression.

“Happy New Year, my love.”

He pulled you close again, embracing you with his strong arms the way he knew you liked. Slowly he started to sway you to a melody only the two of you seemed to hear.

“May it bring you everything your heart desires.”

You smiled foolishly, so deliriously happy as you rested your head on his shoulder, nuzzling his neck.

“Well, I think it is off to a very good start already.”

With a deep chuckle that rumbled through his chest, he softly kissed your hair. And while he pulled you another impossible inch closer, for the first time in months a long lost feeling filled you again—hope.

Tag List: please let me know if you want to be removed or added by either ask or DM - thank you!

@summersong69 @myloveforhenrycavill @dorothea-hwldr @omgkatinka @ashesofblackroses @amberangel112 @madbaddic7ed @icarusblinders @zealoushound @asuni921 @endofalldays01 @nerra75 @indigosaurus @nowyouseeme098 @cap-just-said-language @miss-rebel-without-applause @wheretheriversrunintothesea @maan24 @mochionly @introvertedmouse @sofiebstar @kebabgirl67 @marytudorbrandon @littleone65 @thoughtfullyfurryangel @agniavateira @enchantedbytomandhenry @lumiousmoon @tumblnewby @crazybutconfidentaf @viking-raider

#henry cavill x reader #henry cavill rpf #henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x you #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x female reader #for auld lang syne

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angstysebfan · 3 years

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The Past Can Break You - 5

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

AU: Avengers

Summary: You and Bucky have been dating for aa few years. As far as you’re concerned he is the one. But what happens when a blast from the actual past shows up?

A/N: Ive seen a lot stories of Bucky getting his first love from the 40′s back. And I’ve always wondered... what would happen if he was dating someone already? Reader is from this time. Not proofread.

Warning: implied smut, angst is back

The next 2 weeks were amazing. Bucky really turned everything around and showed you that he was committed to you. It made you feel so much better. While you felt bad that he now completely avoided Dot, because she is still out of place, you didn’t feel that bad because you knew she was bad news. Whenever she saw you and Bucky together she would scoff and glare at you. It made you uncomfortable.

One day the whole Avengers team was called into a meeting to discuss an upcoming mission. Per Steve and Tony, everyone, except you, were needed. You didn’t like the thought of staying behind with Dot in the compound, but you were a team player, and wouldn’t argue. Bucky on the other hand let Steve have it with both barrels.

“Steve you know the situation with Dot. Can’t someone else stay behind?” he said to Steve.

Steve sighed, “Yes, I know this will be difficult, but everyone else is needed for their skill. Y/N’s skills aren’t needed on this mission. She agreed, so why are you fighting me on this?” Steve argued back.

“Of course Y/N won’t fight this, but I am trying to protect her from Dot. You remember how vicious Dot can be, and I don’t want her to upset Y/N when we just started to get back on track,” Bucky said.

“Look Buck, I get it. I do. But this is how it is. The compound is big enough that Y/N won’t need to be anywhere near Dot. By the way, when are you going to tell her that she needs to start looking for employment and another living situation. She makes everyone uncomfortable. Even Tony is starting to get annoyed at all her questions about FRIDAY, and he loves showing people how smart he is,” Steve asked.

“I-I don’t know. I mean I know I have to do it, especially after what she’s pulled, but I still feel bad for her. I mean she didn’t ask for this to happen, and doesn’t deserve to be thrown out on her ass, but I know it’s the right thing to do. I’ll talk to Y/N about it and see if she has any ideas. Maybe if we help setting her up I will feel better about it,” Bucky said.

“Yea, I know. Let me know if you need help. But we gotta get packed and head to the quinjet. And please don’t worry about Y/N. Your girl is strong, and she knows how Dot is. She will be fine. Besides, we are only gone for like 24 hours, what could happen?” Steve asked.

Bucky didn’t respond and watched as Steve walked out of the meeting room. He ran his hands through his hair, what could happen? He hoped nothing, but he didn’t trust Dot. It’s funny the way she is acting now didn’t bother him when he was in the 40s, but now, because of you, he sees that she is not as great as he thought.

Bucky sighs and heads to your shared room to find you packing his bag for him. He smiles as he walks in, “Hey baby,” he says.

You look up at him and give him a bashful smile, “Figured I would help you out,” you said.

Bucky walks up to you and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace. He looks into your eyes, and all you see is love and admiration in them. He leans in and connects his soft lips with yours. After a moment he deepens the kiss and you feel his tongue on your lower lip. You open you mouth in response, allowing him full access. When the need to breath becomes too great you pull away, panting.

“You’re only going to be gone a day,” you say with a chuckle.

Bucky also laughs, “Will you be ok? Here? With... her?” he asks.

You brush your hand through his soft hair, “Yea. I’ll stay clear of her as much as I can. But I’ll be ok,” you say.

Bucky pecks your lips again. “When I come home, I was wondering if you could help me with something,” he asks.

You look at him with confusion, “Like what?” you ask.

“I think it’s time for Dot to go off on her own, but I don’t want to just kick her out and make her fend for herself. I was thinking you could help me find her a job and a place to live? I would just feel better if I know I wasn’t kicking her out with nowhere to go,” he asks.

You smile and nod, “Sure. I’ll be glad to help. I’ll start while you’re gone,” you say.

Bucky kisses you one more time, “I’ll be back tomorrow. I love you, Doll,” he says.

“I love you too, Buck.”

You have to say you are surprised when you find yourself not running into Dot at all. It’s almost like she doesn’t want to be near you either, which is fine. She has spent most of the last 24 hours in the lab, while you stayed in your room looking up possible jobs and apartment for her.

You thought it was nice of Bucky to at least help set her up and not throw her to the wolves. It was something you admired about Bucky, his big heart. You both have been texting before the mission, but since then you haven’t heard from him. You hope everything is ok.

“FRIDAY, any update on the team?” you ask the AI.

“No agent, I’m sorry,” she responds.

You decide to take a nap in hopes that when you wake up your boyfriend will be home. You want your family home safe and sound.

You woke up to the sounds of the team in the hallway. You walk out and see Nat and Wanda and hug them hello. You head toward the common room hoping to see the guys, but don’t. You walk back toward the elevator and heard something from Dot’s room.

“Oh Dot, I’ve missed you so much, Doll,” you hear Bucky moan.

You gasp in horror as you continue listening to Dot moan and beg for Bucky to go harder. You can’t help the tears that begin to fall as you hear your boyfriend and his ex having sex.

“So good baby, you’re so good. Taking me so well, you feel amazing. No one is like you, I love you so much,” Bucky moaned.

You’ve heard enough and turn, running back to your shared room. You can’t be near him when he comes in pretending he didn’t just fuck his ex. Your heart is in a million pieces as his voice continues to play in your head. All you hear is her and his moans and his words. He loves her. It will always be her. Maybe you just need to learn to accept that.

“Buck, I think you should have told Y/N you got hurt. She is going to be worried about you,” Steve scolded.

“Look, I know my girl. She will be mad at first, but then she will nurse me back to health. I will have to convince her to ride me later, but it will be so worth it,” Bucky says with a smirk as the doctor continues to pull out shards of shrapnel from his side.

“Seriously man? TMI!” Sam complained before leaving Medbay.

Bucky laughed and then hissed as the doctor pulled another shard out. “How much longer? I don’t want Y/N to think I’m dead if she knows we are back,” Bucky asked the doctor.

“One more piece... and....” she pulls the large piece out, “There! Now I will quickly clean and bandage. no stitches cause you will heal fast, but please no sex tonight. You might bleed all over her,” the doctor said with a glare.

Bucky and Steve laugh. “Oh I talked to Y/N about helping me out with Dot and she agreed. I figured it was best to have her involved with that situation from now on,” Bucky says to Steve as the doctor cleans and bandages his side.

“Good idea, less messy that way. I hope everything went well here with the 2 of them,” Steve says.

“I’ll find out,” Bucky says as he puts his shirt on.

Both men walk to the elevator and head to their floor. They say their goodbyes in the hall as Bucky opens the door to your shared apartment. You aren’t in there, which confuses him, but he figures maybe you went to the kitchen.

When he walks into the bathroom he senses something is wrong. None of your toiletries are there. It was different from when you cleaned, plus his was still there. He walks back out to your room and sees that everything on your nightstand is gone too. Now he starts to panic as he goes to the closet and sees that all your clothes are gone. He tries to not have a panic attack because that will slow him down. He goes to head to the door and sees a piece of paper on the floor:

Bucky,

I guess I’m the stupid one. I’m stupid to think that everything you said to me was true. I was stupid to think that I could compete with your one true love. I was stupid to think that you really loved me. Well I won’t be stupid anymore. No need to lie and say what I heard isn’t true. I hope you and Dot are very happy together in your new apartment, but I’m done. Have a nice life.

Bucky dropped the letter and fell to his knees as tears pool down his cheeks. What the hell happened that you up and left him? You are angry with him, and he doesn’t understand why. He allows himself to cry for a moment before rereading it.

Dot.

Chapter 4 / Chapter 6

Oh Dot you dirty bitch! Feedback is appreciated.

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 years

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Words: 8714 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: the Greene farm Warnings: Language, violence, gore, blood, severe injuries, fear, anxiety, death of a character A/N: This is the FINAL part of a miniseries! You can find the other chapters on the Masterlist! Summary: Y/N and Shane go missing.

Your name: submit What is this?

Two weeks later

“I can actually do it myself,” you insisted, feeling a blush in your cheeks as Daryl pulled your hand over onto his lap and bent over it, luckily oblivious to the pink glow now filling your cheeks.

He huffed at you. “I’m sure ya can,” he drawled, “but it’s definitely easier for someone with two hands, don’t ya think?”

You watched as he methodically and carefully snipped the stitches in your hand and pulled the sutures away, apologizing if they tugged at all. A lot had happened in the last two weeks. Pretty much everyone had come around to the fact that Shane had hurt himself in an attempt to get the group to abandon you. There had been a massive fight between him and Rick and since then Shane had been confined to his tent while he healed. When Hershel found out what had happened, he told Rick that Shane couldn’t stay, but Rick had already decided that he had go. His best friend seemed to be growing more bitter and more unstable by the day.

But Shane was still around temporarily, and because of that Daryl had refused to leave you to sleep unguarded at night. You’d argued that it would be fine and that you didn’t really think Shane would try to pull anything else, but the archer was insistent. Eventually, you caved. Daryl had hauled your cot and bedding to his tent and set them up along the opposite wall from his, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck at the strange nervousness and yet gratitude he felt knowing you’d be so close.

You both fell into an easy routine together. Your physical closeness may have been borne out of necessity but the other growing closeness developed organically. Spending time with Daryl was easy. He didn’t mind when you were quiet for hours on end, lost in your own head as you aimlessly tossed twigs into the fire. He didn’t mind when you wanted to talk about something specific or nothing at all, and you felt the same way about him. The silences didn’t bother you with Daryl and every time he did open his mouth it was either to make you laugh or to say something you were genuinely interested in hearing. He was constantly checking on you over the smallest things. If you shivered in the evening as you spent time around the fire, he’d insist that you moved closer to the flames or he’d go get a blanket from his tent and toss it down on your lap without a word before he took his place again. He’d make sure you were eating and would refill your canteen whenever he thought about it. You did what you could to return the favors but he usually seemed to beat you to it.

“I guess with these out I can finally start hunting again,” you said. “And going out and gathering stuff.”

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed, his eyes narrowed as he focused on removing the very last stitch. “There.” He straightened up and looked at the slightly raised pink scar down the center of your palm. He wasn’t sure what made him do it, but he ran a finger lightly down the length of it.

You startled at the unfamiliar sensation, a little strange due to the altered sensation along the length of the scar, but even more so because of the way your heart jumped at the touch of Daryl’s fingers so light on your palm. You involuntarily pulled you hand back and your eyes shot up to meet his.

He gave you a sheepish look. “Sorry. Did that hurt?” He regretted it the moment he’d done it, worried about your reaction.

You shook your head. “No, it just—”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing,” you finished quietly, chewing on your bottom lip a little anxiously. He quirked an eyebrow at you but simply stood up.

“Alright. Well, couple more days and that asshole will be outta here,” he growled, glancing over in the direction of Shane’s tent. He wasn’t yet allowing himself to acknowledge that he was worried things would go back to the way they were before once Shane was gone. That is, you’d retreat back to your space and back to yourself. He was really liking his time with you and he didn’t want it to end. The archer shook his head and glanced back at you. Your eyes were now on Shane’s tent, too but your expression was fretful. “S’matter?” he prompted you.

You sighed. “I just feel like it’s my fault he has to leave…”

“Nah. Nah, it ain’t. Y/N, if it weren’t you it’d be somethin’ else. He’s been spiralin’ down since Rick showed up alive and took his family back. It ain’t got nothin’ to do with ya, not really.”

You still looked unsure but the worry lines in your forehead eased a little. “Yeah. I suppose so.”

“Listen, I told Carol I’d go help her with that new tent. Ya gonna be alright over here?” he asked.

You nodded. “Mhm. I’ll be right here. Andrea gave me a new book.” You did glance a little longingly over your shoulder at the far tree line and Daryl was always amazed that even after the traumatic incident in those very same woods that you still wanted to be out there almost every minute of the day.

“Hey,” he said, calling your attention back to him. “We’ll go out and hunt tomorrow, alright?”

You nodded. “Tomorrow.” You watched his broad shoulders fade toward the main camp.

Carol was waiting when Daryl arrived. Her old tent had started to leak and Daryl had promised to help her get the new one they’d found set up. She stood up as he strode over, already flustered by the number of pins and ropes and metal poles. “If I’d known I’d be living out of a tent I definitely would have stuck with the Girl Scouts when I was a kid,” she said, giving Daryl a helpless look.

He let out a gruff laugh. “Ya got that the wrong way around,” he said, pointing to the pole she’d already slipped through the tent. She stared at it and sighed. “S’alright. That’s why I’m here right?” he said. “Gimme that,” he said, grabbing the bundle of poles in her hands and setting to work. In no time they had the tent upright and were going about staking it down. Carol handed Daryl another stake and he pounded it into the ground securing down the corner.

“So… what’s going on with you and Y/N exactly?” she asked him.

The archer froze and shot a look at her before returning his eyes to what he was doing, grateful for a task to focus on even as he felt his ears growing red. “What’d ya mean?”

“Well,” Carol continued, “you’re sharing a tent,” she said with a smile.

Daryl scoffed. “So? I shared a tent with T-dog once. Ya gonna ask me if we held hands?”

Carol laughed and smirked at him. “Well, did you?” Daryl rolled his eyes at her and she laughed harder.

“We’re sharin’ a tent cuz there’s a psycho that probably is blamin’ all his problems on her. And I don’t want shit to go sideways.”

“So, that’s it? You’re just sharing a tent for purely practical reasons,” Carol said. Daryl could hear the skepticism in her voice and he straightened up after tying off the knot to the stake.

“The hell are ya on about?” Daryl growled. But even as he tried to act gruff and brush her off, he felt that heat growing in his chest that was becoming familiar when he thought of you.

“You two just seem to get along,” Carol said. “That’s all.”

“Mmm,” Daryl hummed, moving to the next corner of the tent. Something about that response made Carol laugh again.

“You’re so sensitive,” she murmured, eliciting an eyeroll from him. “Daryl, I just like to see you happy. And lately, since you’ve been spending so much time with Y/N, you’ve been happy,” she pointed out.

He couldn’t deny that. She was right. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, his hands still on the last length of cord before he tied it off and pounded in the stake. He stood up and stepped back, taking in the structure. “Alright. All done.”

“Thanks,” she said gratefully, surveying it. She gave his shoulder a friendly squeeze and smiled. “Do me a favor?”

“Hmm?” he hummed, chewing on the side of his thumbnail, glancing up at her.

“If you really like her,” she paused and shrugged, “tell her. Life is short these days.” She knew that as well as anyone. A husband, abusive asshole or not, and a precious little girl were gone to this world.

Daryl only ducked his head and lazily twirled a piece of grass between his fingers. “I’ll see ya,” he murmured, turning and heading back toward his tent. He was expecting you to be sitting beside the fire where you’d been when he left, but that spot was empty. He approached the tent and stopped outside the door. “Y/N? Ya in there?” When there was no answer, he unzipped it and peeked inside. No sign of you. The book that had been in your hand was on the tent floor and he bent and picked it up, setting it on the upturned box that was serving as a nightstand next to your cot. That’s when he realized your knife was there. He’d been thinking maybe you had to go use the bathroom, but you never left camp without your knife at your hip, whether it was for two minutes or two hours. And it wasn’t like you to leave a book on the ground. You treated the damn things like they were some sacred tomes. He felt panic start to grow in his chest and left the tent in a hurry, his blue eyes scanning the area where everyone else was set up and the tree line. He didn’t see you anywhere.

Daryl grabbed his crossbow and took off running toward the main camp. He found Lori and Carol preparing some food for dinner and stopped beside them. “Hey—have ya’ll seen Y/N anywhere? She come through here at all?” He directed the question at Lori since Carol had been busy with him getting the tent set up.

She stood up and dusted her hands off on her jeans, shaking her head. Her eyes went a little wide with worry as she registered the deep concern on Daryl’s face. “No, I—I haven’t seen her. You can’t find her?”

Daryl didn’t even stay to answer. He just tore off in the direction of the farmhouse and bounded up onto the front porch. Glenn and Maggie both stood up at the expression on his face. “Ya’ll see Y/N? Did she come up here?”

Maggie shook her head. “No,” Glenn answered, immediately worried. “What’s going on?”

Daryl swore under his breath and paced a restless circle, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “I—I was gone for maybe an hour helpin’ Carol and now I can’t find her anywhere. She wouldn’ta gone off without her knife or nothin’,” he said. His jaw clenched and Glenn watched the muscle twitch. Daryl’s eyes quickly landed on the tent Shane was confined to and he took off at a full sprint toward it. Glenn was on his heels now.

“Daryl! Daryl, take it easy!” Glenn yelled after him. It drew the attention of the rest of the group and soon Rick and Andrea were standing beside Glenn as Daryl ripped back the entrance to Shane’s tent.

Daryl’s stomach twisted. Shane’s tent was empty. He kicked out at a milk crate that had some of Shane’s things on it and it toppled over. “Shane’s gone and Y/N is missin’!” he roared at Rick.

Rick gulped. A hard pit formed in his stomach. “Daryl—Daryl, just calm down,” Rick said.

That had the opposite effect. “Calm down? Calm down?!” he roared. “This ain’t no coincidence! I told ya he didn’t deserve to stay here to heal up, and now look what’s happened!”

“We’ll find them! We’ll find them. We will. Just—”

“Nah. I’m gonna track that fuckin’ prick and if he’s laid so much as a finger on her, he’s a dead man.” Daryl took off without another word, racing back to the last place he’d seen you, his eyes scanning the ground the whole way, hoping for a track, a trail, something.

“Dale, get the guns,” Rick said. “Lori, you and Carol take Carl up to the house and see if you can wait inside with Hershel and the girls.” Lori nodded and gave Carol’s arm a gentle squeeze. Rick rubbed a hand over the stubble on his face.

Andrea was stunned. “What do we do?”

Rick shut his eyes for a moment and pulled in a breath. “We get our guns and we look. We hope Daryl can pick up a trail and we hope we aren’t too late.”

You had been sitting contentedly by the fire reading when you decided you wanted some tea. You knew there were still some dried spicebush leaves in your pack from your last foraging trip and you went in to get them. You were crouched beside your pack, digging in the pocket when you heard a metallic sound that was easily identifiable. It was the slide of a pistol being drawn back and released, a bullet moving into the chamber. You froze with your hands in your pack and slowly turned. You could see Shane outside the window netting and his gun was aimed right at you.

“Get up. Slowly. Leave all your shit.”

You gulped and did so, replacing your pack against the wall and abandoning your book on the floor.

“Come over here. Zip the tent up and don’t even think about trying anything because I will kill you right here,” Shane growled, and you believed him. “Let’s go. Now.”

Again, you complied. You glanced desperately toward the main camp, hoping with every part of you that Daryl would be headed back or somehow happen to look over and see what was happening, but you knew you didn’t have any options except to comply. Comply and hope for an opening to save yourself.

Shane’s gun was still trained on you as you stepped around the outside of the tent. He was gritting his teeth in anger as you stared back at him. You were determined to remain calm and in control.

He nudged the barrel of his gun in the direction of the tree line. “Move. Let’s go.”

You felt sick, knowing that once you went into those trees the chance that you would ever come back out was low. But what choice did you have? He had a fucking gun on you and you had nothing.

You made your way toward the woods. Shane pressed the muzzle into your back. “Faster. And don’t even think about making a fucking sound. I will shoot you right here. I don’t even care. At least then I wouldn’t have to worry about you going all psycho-killer. Wouldn’t have to worry about Lori anymore. Or Carl.”

You bit your tongue to stop a retort.

Soon, you were under the dark canopy of trees, cloaked in shade and moving further in with Shane’s gun at your back. He was nervous, on edge, and understandably so, because you knew if Daryl caught him… he’d be dead in an instant. You decided your best course of action was to try to reason with him. You really did believe that he was just fucked up from being in love with a woman he couldn’t have. This was all misplaced blame and aggression. He really wanted to fuck Rick up, but that loyal part of him, that police partner, wouldn’t let him. Some part of him couldn’t bear to do that to Carl and Lori, even while another part of him was desperate to. You were an easy target, the next best thing to blame for his failed attempts to get back into the place he wanted to be, to regain some control, to prove he knew best and was still The Protector. If he had been able to show everyone that you were really a threat and that he and not Rick had taken care of it, he really thought maybe that would win Lori over. But that had all backfired. Now you were just easy to blame for all his problems.

“Shane, I know this isn’t really what you want,” you said quietly.

“Shut the fuck up. You don’t know a goddamn thing about me,” he growled back, nudging you sharply with the muzzle of his gun again.

“I don’t want you to have to leave either. I know it isn’t fair,” you continued. “You took care of everyone for a while before Rick showed up.”

“I said shut up!” he spat again through clenched teeth. “Ya know what? Sit the fuck down. Right there, against that tree.” He shoved you hard and you stumbled, barely catching yourself with your hands on the large oak before your face would have collided with it.

You obeyed and sat with your back against the tree, gulping at the dryness in your throat, and turning to stare directly at the gun pointed in your face.

Something about how calm you were being, how steady, was completely freaking Shane the fuck out. He wanted you to snap. He wanted to be able to say that he was right about you and you were a danger to everyone in camp, like you were some unpredictable monster. But you just sat there looking up at him, now completely silent, your eyes flickering between the muzzle of his gun and his face. Shane swore under his breath and paced back in forth in front of you. Your eyes followed his movements. You bided your time, trying to come up with something that would defuse this whole situation.

“How is this going to fix anything?” you asked him. “This is only going to make everything worse.”

He didn’t stop pacing and occasionally shooting a look at you that made your blood run cold. You were starting to think that maybe there was no reasoning with him…

“You can just let me go. I’ll just tell everyone I needed to get out of camp for a bit. You can wander back in like nothing happened,” you said.

He pointed the gun at you again and his lip curled. “There’s no going back from this. No going back from everything that’s already happened. And I know there is something wrong with you. I know it. If I’m not going to be here to keep an eye on you, I need to end this now so you can’t hurt anyone. Because I know you will snap eventually. I saw what you did to those men.” Shane got right into your face, poking you in the shoulder with the muzzle of his gun.

“I was defending myself,” you said quietly, feeling guilty and horrified at yourself even as you tried to justify it to Shane.

“So you say,” he growled, his pistol now aimed at your forehead.

“If I was going to snap like you’re saying, wouldn’t now be a good time?” you said quietly. “Obviously you’re a threat to me. But I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”

He scoffed and straightened up again, resuming his pacing. “What—what the hell happened to you, huh? What fucked up thing twisted you to the point where you could do what you did to those men? Do you even remember it? Do you even know how many times you stabbed them?” he pressed. He was trying to agitate you, but it didn’t work.

Your stomach was churning with the foggy memory of being covered in their blood, of seeing their corpses on the ground, but you only stared back at Shane. No way in hell you were divulging what you’d been through to Shane, gunpoint or not.

He ran his tongue over his teeth and you watched as the muscle in his jaw clenched. He charged toward you again. “You know what? I’m done with this,” he growled. He pressed the gun to your forehead, aiming at a downward angle. The metal bit into your skin. You stared up at him briefly, eyes wide but surprisingly calm, and Shane watched in some disbelief as you finally just shut them and seemed to resign yourself to the fact that you were about to die.

That hesitation was all you needed.

You shoved Shane’s arm away and the gun with it and snatched the knife at his hip, ripping it free from its sheath and slashing at him, leaving a good gash on his arm. But a knife wouldn’t be any match for Shane with a gun. He was a firearm instructor and you knew his aim was deadly accurate, so before he could entirely recover from his surprise you ran at him full force and the two of fell to the ground hard. The pistol flew from his hands and landed in the leaf little a few feet away. You began to crawl desperately toward it, trying to put distance between you and Shane as quickly as possible, but you let out a yell as you felt him grab hold of you and pull you back.

The next thing you knew he was over you, trying his hardest to get the knife from your hand. You were slashing at him desperately, catching him on the forearms as you struggled beneath him. You caught him with a particularly strong slash but the next moment he had your hands pinned in his and he wrenched the knife from you. The rush of blood was loud in your ears and now you were on the defensive. You shielded yourself with your arms as best you could and continued to struggle beneath him, but his weight was too much.

Shane suddenly managed to push your arms out of the way and you saw the knife coming toward you as if in slow motion. It was heading straight for the center of your chest. You thrust your left arm out and felt the blade pierce it deeply before ripping clean and lodging in your left shoulder. You let out a scream of pain, but as Shane was now leaning over you, you managed to get your knee up underneath him and thrust it as hard as you could into his groin.

He let out an agonized yell and rolled off you, abandoning the knife that was still lodged deeply in your shoulder. You gritted your teeth and were vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face and the fact that you were trembling. But there was no time to stop. You couldn’t stop if you wanted to live. You clutched at the knife in your shoulder, staring briefly with shock at how deeply it was embedded, but didn’t dare to pull it out. Rolling over and holding yourself up on your lacerated forearms, you fixed your eyes on the gun and made a desperate lunge for it. You felt hands on your legs again, dragging you back.

Back toward the edge of the tree line, Daryl had picked up the trail easily and was frantically tracking. Rick and the others were on his heels, glancing around nervously, straining their eyes in the veiled darkness beneath the canopy and their ears in the closeness of the trees. But it wasn’t long that they had to trail behind the archer because soon a strained yell made it to their ears. Daryl felt his blood run cold.

He paused hardly for a moment before he tore off through the trees in the direction he’d heard your voice echo from. “Y/N!” He wanted you to know he was on his way. He needed you to just hang on. He pushed himself to run through the nausea that had risen when that sound, your pained voice, had met his ears. He tore through the foliage, the sound of pounding boots on the soil loud behind him as the others followed.

“Daryl! Daryl, slow down! We can’t just—” Rick paused as he had to bust through some shrubs. “We can’t just barrel in there!” But it was as if the archer hadn’t heard anything. He just continued running, trying to listen over his own gasping breath and pounding pulse but simultaneously afraid of what he would hear.

Crack.

The unmistakable sound of a gunshot.

Daryl skidded to a stop, frozen. His face blanched, almost ashen as Rick caught up and glanced over at him. Sweat was pouring down from their foreheads and running down their necks, soaking the thin cotton of their shirts. A small strangled noise escaped Daryl’s lips as he searched the ground frantically again for the trail, needing to know he was running in the right direction. He spotted it. Direction confirmed, he took off at an even madder pace than before. “Y/N!” There was no answer.

But he couldn’t allow himself to think the worst. He couldn’t. That couldn’t happen to you. After everything you’d already been through… how could he have let this happen? Why had he turned his back on you for even a minute with that prick still around? He felt shaky and weak even as he ran.

The group had just pushed through another thick swath of understory when Daryl saw a bundle ahead, lying motionless on the ground. His breath caught in his throat and his boots rooted into the soil for a moment. But he pushed himself to move forward again.

Behind him he was vaguely aware of a gasp from Andrea and some murmur from Glenn.

As he moved closer, he realized there was a second shape ahead and as his eyes refocused, he saw that it was you. You were leaned up against a big oak tree, propped up against the rough bark, your head lolled toward your chest. Some pained gasp or muted scream, catching mostly in his throat, left his lips before he tore off toward you again. As he fell to his knees beside you, he took in the soaked crimson of your shirt. Your arms were cut up and absolutely covered in blood. Then Daryl’s eyes landed on the hilt of the knife still embedded in your left shoulder. His hands shook as he hesitated before lifting your chin, terrified that your skin would be cold and lifeless. You were bruised and battered, bleeding from a swollen and split lip and a gash near your hairline, but there was some semblance of warmth still in your skin, though you were pale. More miraculously yet, when he gently lifted your chin, you started to stir and Daryl watched in desperation as you struggled to open your eyes, eventually succeeding.

“Hey, hey. S’alright. I’ve got ya. I’ve got ya…” He could hear his own voice shake as he spoke.

You gulped, wanting to clear the taste of iron from your mouth. “I had to,” you managed to croak out. “I had to.”

Daryl knew you were referring to Shane’s lifeless body behind him on the ground. “S’ok. It don’t matter. Don’t talk now, alright? Just rest. I’ve got ya.”

Daryl felt someone behind him and turned to see Glenn just behind him. His face was pale as he took in your condition. “Her shoulder... Oh my God,” Glenn gasped.

“She’s gonna be fine,” Daryl said forcefully. He carefully slid his arm behind your back and another underneath your knees. You were fighting to stay awake. “Daryl…” you murmured. You felt so small in his arms as he lifted you. Daryl was vaguely aware of your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, gripping it hard before you fell unconscious again, going limp in his arms. He turned and started heading back to the farm, moving as quickly as he dared with you in his arms, conscious of the knife still wedged cruelly into you. The sight of it protruding from you made him sick with rage. Rick was kneeling beside Shane, his face downturned, as Daryl breezed past. Andrea stood just behind him with a hand pressed over her mouth, watching as Daryl carried your bloodied body past her.

As Daryl’s broad shoulders disappeared, Glenn bent and retrieved the pistol lying on the leaf litter among streaks of your blood. It felt like a lead weight in his palm.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl sat slumped in a chair beside your prone form laid out on the bed, covered over in the blankets. He was leaned over forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped so tightly that his knuckles shone white.

After days of agonizing waiting, there was a soft noise from you and his eyes shot up urgently to see you stirring a little on the pillow. He rocketed to his feet so fast that the chair he’d been in clattered backward loudly to the floor. “Doc!” he yelled out. Hershel rushed in a moment later.

You dragged your eyelids open with a great amount of effort and the first thing you saw were Daryl’s piercing blue eyes looking down at you with immense concern. You moistened your lips with your tongue and cleared your throat, which felt dry and scratchy, preparing to speak. He watched as your expression melted into a veil of confusion. “I’m not… not dead?”

Daryl felt a painful pang in his chest as he watched you spinning with disbelief.

Hershel leaned over you with a kindly and somewhat sad expression on his face. “You most definitely are not. Though you surprised all of us after what you went through,” he said putting a gentle hand on your uninjured shoulder.

Your eyes turned back to Daryl’s. “Shane—” His name seemed to strangle and catch in your throat. “I—”

“I know. Ya had to. S’alright,” Daryl drawled, his brow furrowing low over his eyes.

You mouthed wordlessly for a moment, your eyes brimming with tears. “Is he—did he—?”

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod, his expression full of concern. “He’s gone.”

You felt that you already knew the answer but it still made your stomach churn. You laid more heavily into the pillow and shut your eyes, a pained expression crossing your face. When your eyes finally fluttered open again they were still a little glassy. Daryl wondered at this display of remorse, of regret you had for a man who had clearly taken you into the woods to kill you.

But what Daryl saw next was you clearly struggling against some flashback. You squeezed your eyes shut and your breathing quickened. Beads of sweat broke out on your hairline and your face tensed.

Daryl’s hand shot out to gently grab yours before he even knew what he was doing. “Hey.” He gave it a gentle squeeze. “Y/N. S’alright. You’re safe,” he drawled.

Your eyes opened and you glanced down at your hand in his. Daryl withdrew, suddenly self-conscious. You nodded and seemed to come back to the present.

You reached across yourself to grip your left shoulder, a wave of pain running through you and a grimace tightening your features. You felt thick gauze beneath your fingers. As you moved you became aware that you had many little rows of stitches on your arms and a few gashes wrapped up in bandages as well. Even your hands were cut up from your attempts to defend yourself. You extended your arm in front of yourself and took in the damage done by Shane’s knife.

“I don’t understand,” you said softly. “I thought for sure I was going to die out there.” The way you said it was so matter-of-fact and Daryl felt a rush of anger overwhelm him for a moment. Shane was lucky he was dead when Daryl had gotten there… He’d gotten off easy with a single round to the chest.

Hershel nodded. “You have a lot of strength in you. Rest. Everything is going to be just fine. You’re going to heal up and be back to normal before you know it, though that shoulder may need a little extra TLC.” The doctor took his leave and your eyes found Daryl’s again. He read worry on your face.

“What is it?” he drawled.

You gulped. “I’ll leave as soon as I’m healed up,” you said, now avoiding his eyes.

Daryl’s brow furrowed more deeply. “Why the hell would ya do that?”

His tone was forceful again and drew your eyes back to his. “The others—after what happened, I can’t imagine they want me around anymore.”

Daryl sighed heavily and righted his chair again, sinking down in it close at your bedside. “For once yer wrong about somethin’,” he said. “Nobody wants ya to leave. Ya didn’t do anything more than defend yourself, just like ya did with those men before. Anyone can glance at ya for one second and see that.”

You shifted in bed, trying to make your injured shoulder more comfortable, laying your other hand over it absently, and you chewed on the inside of your cheek. You still looked unsure.

“Y/N, when we found ya you had a damn knife sticking out of your shoulder.” He paused and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck a little anxiously. “I—” his voice seemed to catch in his throat. “I thought we lost ya.”

You peered at him curiously.

He leaned forward. “Listen to me, if anybody even so much as looks at ya like ya shouldn’t be here, they’ll have to deal with me.”

Daryl watched, a little anxiously, as your lips parted softly. “I’m not sure I deserve that from you,” you finally managed quietly. “You’ve already done enough. Daryl, I suspect you saved my life.” You gulped and stared down toward the edge of the blankets. “In more ways than one…”

The archer averted his eyes down toward his boots and chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, nervous and wavering between his insecurity and need to reassure you, not allowing himself to really think on what you’d just said. “Hey. Yer a part of this group, even if ya ain’t always felt like it.”

You studied him for a long moment before you spoke again. “So are you,” you said perceptively. His blue eyes shot up to meet yours and you gave him a weak smile. “Can you do me a favor?”

He nudged his nose up in a nod. “’Course.”

“Can—can you help me take a walk outside? I need some air,” you said quietly.

“Are ya sure yer up for that? Ya had surgery on that shoulder. Ya lost a lot of blood. Ya just woke up after bein’ out of it for three days. I don’t think it’s—” Concern creased his forehead.

You nodded. “I’m sure. You won’t let anything bad happen to me. I’ve at least learned that by now.” You felt a bloom of warmth in your chest as you spoke those words, coupled with the realization of their truth almost at the same time as they left your lips. That burst of heat you felt was reflected in a pink hue in the archer’s face and the tips of his ears.

He looked a little bashful but nodded and acquiesced to your request. “Alright. C’mon,” he said, gently taking your hand, avoiding the injuries carefully, and doing his best to ignore how nervous he felt when his fingers closed around it. He helped you out of bed and steadied you as you got to your feet. You glanced up at him, and your expression was so open and earnest he was frankly shocked by it. Could it really be that you were looking that way at him? His fingers were light under your elbow and his other hand was ghosting behind your back, centimeters away from making contact if needed as you started toward the door. “Ya alright?”

You nodded and gulped at the rush of feelings his hand around yours had brought, trying your hardest to ignore it. All you could do was nod. The two of you emerged onto the porch and Glenn and Maggie stood up immediately from their place nearby in the seating area. Both of them were all smiles to see you on your feet.

“You’re up,” Glenn said, looking at you with a bewildered smile. “This is amazing. It’s so good to see you awake!” His expression was nothing but kindness.

“How are you feelin’?” Maggie asked.

You nodded, glancing back over at Daryl and relaxing some as you saw one corner of his mouth was twitched up. His blue eyes were fixed on your face and he couldn’t look away. Seeing you actually awake and already on your feet was a huge relief after many days of sickening worry. “I feel alright. A little tired,” you admitted. Almost as if one cue you wavered a little on your feet, your knees feeling suddenly weak.

Daryl’s hand landed flush against the small of your back, immediately steadying you. “Easy,” he rumbled. “Ya alright?” You nodded, quite sure your cheeks were pink, and when you glanced back at him and mumbled a small “thanks” you thought maybe his cheeks were pink too. You turned back to Glenn and Maggie and your eyes drifted to all the numerous stitches on your arms. “I’m definitely a little worse for wear. But could have been worse…” you trailed off.

“Definitely,” Glenn said, giving you a sympathetic look. “We’re all just so glad you’re okay.”

Just at that moment you heard boots on the stairs and you looked up to see Rick, thumbs slung into his pockets as usual. Your heart rate increased with anxiety and you gulped at the sudden tightness in your throat. You’d killed his best friend. You’d pulled the trigger and killed Shane. “I’m sorry,” you said to the Sheriff.

But Rick was smiling at you with tears in his eyes, shaking his head slightly. “This is my fault,” he said suddenly, a rasp in his voice from emotion and your eyes widened in surprise. “This is my fault and I am so sorry. Daryl told me—and I should have listened. Shane was way more of a threat than I was willing to admit. This should have never happened to you,” he drawled. “And I hope you can forgive me at some point.”

You stared at him for a long moment, blinking in the sun and breathing in the freshness of the outside air. “It’s already forgiven,” you said softly, nodding at him.

Daryl stared at you in awe of how, despite everything you’d been through, you still could extend that forgiveness so easily.

Daryl sensed some shift in you and his brow drew down low over his eyes. “Let’s get ya back to bed. C’mon.”

You allowed him to help you back through the farmhouse and even into bed as you struggled not to put any weight on your left shoulder, wincing as you moved. Daryl watched you settled in and stood a bit awkwardly at your bedside. He nervously ran a hand back through his hair. “Well, I’ll let ya get some sleep,” he drawled, turning to leave.

“Daryl.”

He turned back to glance at you and your expression was a bit hesitant. “Hmm?”

“Would you stay? …please?”

He didn’t need to hear anything else. He planted himself right back down in the chair at the side of the bed and watched as some of the tension on your face eased.

“Thanks,” you said quietly with a sigh. Daryl watched as you closed your eyes and shifted, trying to make your shoulder more comfortable, but a moment later your eyes fluttered open again and met his. “He put the gun to my forehead,” you suddenly said quietly.

Daryl’s stomach plummeted and then swirled with anger. He stared back at you, incredulous with rage easily readable on his face.

“I made my peace with the fact that he was going to pull the trigger.” Your voice was somewhat disconnected, distant. “But then… he hesitated. And I took the chance and I fought.”

Daryl gulped. “Ya made it. Yer alright.”

You nodded and looked at him for a long moment, seemingly on the edge of saying something else, but you finally just sighed and your eyelids, now heavy with exhaustion, closed again. Soon, you were asleep. And Daryl stayed at your bedside and drifted off himself. _ _ _ _ _ _

Some time later You tossed down the game stringer, loaded with squirrels, in front of Daryl. “Ten,” you said, a wide grin spreading across your face. “What’d ya get?”

He looked up at you and affected an unamused expression. “Nine,” he drawled, pointing to his harvest waiting to be cleaned.

“Ha! I win again,” you said, absolutely brimming with joy. “I thought you said you were good at hunting?” you teased him.

He rolled his eyes at you and looked over as you sank down beside him. “Ya beat me by one. Ain’t exactly a landslide, is it?”

“A win is a win,” you announced with satisfaction.

He rolled his eyes again, but his expression quickly turned to concern as he caught you rubbing your shoulder. “Sore?” he asked you, his brow drawing down. “Maybe ya shouldn’t be hunting with that bow again yet.”

Your face softened as you caught his blue eyes. “I’m fine. It’s just a little tired, that’s all. Hershel says I need to build my strength up again.” Daryl’s eyes caught on the scar where the knife had been lodged into your shoulder. It was matched by many smaller ones on your arms, all with the same pink hue due to their newness. He could also see the brand on your arm, 1048, the remnant from your time under The Copperheads. Before, you would wear long sleeves in the height of the Georgian summer just to avoid anyone seeing that mark. Now there were a lot more scars added to it, but you didn’t seem to care. It was like you finally had a weight lifted off your shoulders and you felt free for the first time in a long time, unencumbered by your past.

“We should get ya a crossbow, like mine. Then ya wouldn’t have to hold the draw with that shoulder.”

“I like my old-fashioned recurve bow,” you said, pulling it over onto your lap and looking down at it fondly. “Especially because I can still beat you with it,” you smiled at him.

Daryl seemed suddenly fidgety and you picked up on it immediately. His eyes turned down and his expression was suddenly serious.

“What? What is it?”

He shrugged, still seemingly avoiding your eyes. “Can I ask ya somethin’?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Always.”

He flicked his thumb along the sharp edge of his knife. “How—with everything that ya’ve been through, how come ya ain’t just angry? I’m angry just thinkin’ about it. And it didn’t even happen to me.”

“Mmm,” hummed thoughtfully. Your eyes turned out across the verdant pasture, toward the trees you’d spent the day under. “I am angry sometimes. But,” you shrugged, your right hand shielding over the scar on your left shoulder absently, “being angry doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t fix it. It all still happened.”

Your eyes grew a bit far-off, a bit distant. Daryl took several forced, deep inhales and gathered his courage before reaching over and taking your hand in his, pulling it away from your shoulder.

You looked over at him in surprise. Your hand felt small between his. Your gaze was questioning. Daryl’s heart was pounding so hard in his ears he couldn’t hear anything else. He gulped, trying to clear his throat so he could talk. “‘M gonna make sure nothin’ else bad happens to ya. As best I can,” he murmured.

You nodded almost imperceptibly, your eyes still a little wide from the unexpected action of him taking your hand in his. “Only if I can do the same thing for you.”

You saw him gulp nervously before he nudged his nose up in a nod at you. “Yeh, I think—I think that’d be alright,” he said.

You gave him a half-smile that he found incredibly endearing and his nerves finally got the better of him and he released your hand, clearing his throat and awkwardly rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m, uhh, just gonna go grab some more firewood,” he drawled, standing up abruptly and internally cursing at himself as he left you sitting alone by the fire. Fuckin’ coward. Despite all his attempts at denial, Daryl had realized over the last couple weeks that he couldn’t ignore how he felt about you anymore, but now he was stranded in this place between where he was and where he wanted to be with no idea how to bridge the gap. He wandered back with an armload of firewood, internally frustrated and kicking himself, but his frustration vanished almost immediately when he had dumped it next to the fire circle and glanced at you again. You were looking at him with that open expression, this time with a little inquisitive lift in one of your eyebrows.

“Hmm?” he hummed, pulling his bottom lip back in between his teeth and worrying it anxiously.

You tilted your head toward the place he’d previously been sitting and he gulped as he sat down, still feeling your eyes steady on him. He thought that now you looked a little nervous. “Can I ask you something?” you said quietly.

The archer nodded, nervous flutters flitting to life in his stomach.

“Umm… is it just me, or have you slept like shit, too, since I moved out of your tent?”

Once you were no longer staying in the house healing up, Daryl had moved your things out of his tent for you since there was no longer any need to worry about Shane. It wasn’t that you had asked him to, or that he’d even wanted to, it just seemed like he should…Afterwards, you’d actually moved your whole campsite closer to his, directly next to it, but you still found yourself tossing and turning on your cot, unable to fall asleep or stay asleep.

Daryl stared back at you for a moment in disbelief. He’d slept like garbage since you’d moved back, and he hadn’t even had the heart to fill the cleared space you’d once occupied with the stuff he previously had kept there. Now the emptiness loomed, drawing his eyes, the physical manifestation of how he felt something was just missing. When you slept on your cot across from him, he’d wake up in the middle of the night and look over at the shadow of your sleeping form. He always felt some swell of relief and maybe something else he couldn’t quite identify… Something about listening to your calm breathing always relaxed him and he found himself able to shut his eyes and drift off again. Maybe he’d gotten used to it. Maybe he shouldn’t have. But since you’d left, he’d been restless and anxious at night, wishing the material of his tent and yours would vanish so he could check on you.

Your nerves were growing with each moment of silence as you anxiously watched him, waiting for him to say something. “No, I—“ he had to clear his throat, nerves making his voice come out strangely strangled, “I’ve—” he let out a scoff of a laugh, almost incredulous he was about to say it to you, “I’ve slept like shit since ya left.”

“…really?”

He nodded, finally meeting your eyes again. “Mhm. Can’t fall asleep, can’t stay asleep, just feels like I lay there all the time w—”

You grabbed him by his lapel and pulled him toward you, pressing your lips softly to his, your eyes shut tightly, overwhelmed with nerves even while you melted into him. Your fingers cupped his face gently, like he was something fragile and Daryl was reeling.

By the time he reached back for you and got over his surprise you were already withdrawing and he blinked, bewildered, as he took in the wide-eyed expression on your face and your partially parted lips.

“Uhh—was that—okay?” you breathed, anxiety ratcheting up with each passing moment of uncertainty.

“Ya,” he drawled. It spilled from him like warm molasses. He watched as your face broke into a relieved smile and your cheeks burned pink.

“Good,” you murmured, unable to look at him any longer.

“Only I—I wasn’t ready,” he murmured. Your eyes flickered up to his again. He gulped nervously and reached out to move a strand of hair out of your eyes before clasping your face. His blue eyes were flickering between yours and then down to your lips. You could tell he was nervous and it brought a small smile to your face. Your eyes fluttered closed and you leaned toward him, only having to wait a second before you felt his lips crashing against yours.

This time the kiss was heated and urgent and he pulled you into him gently with his hand at the nape of your neck. You happily leaned in, smiling against his lips, your hand pressing flush to his strong chest and the other landing lightly on his side, driving him crazy. Daryl’s hand smoothed over your shoulder and down your bare arm, electricity rising in its wake.

When you broke apart this time, you were both all stunned smiles again, though now you couldn’t look away from each other.

“So, uhh—ya wanna stay with me tonight? Sounds like we both need some real sleep, ya know, and I dunno…” Daryl wasn’t used to asking for what he wanted so blatantly, or making himself vulnerable, but somehow you brought it out of him and he was willing to jump off that ledge if it meant he got to kiss you and touch you and hold you all night… things he had thought about plenty when he was lying on his cot, unable to sleep, but never saw as a reality.

You nodded, that same smile you always gave him glowing on your face. He was constantly amazed by the light you exuded; despite everything you’d been through… everything you’d shared with him.

He needed that. He needed the light. He needed you. You gave him hope.

That night you settled in against him, nervous but melting into the safeness of his arms around you. Daryl worried he was too overwhelmed to sleep, but moment by moment he realized how natural having you against him felt, how safe, how perfect, and before either of you spoke another word you both drifted off in blissful silence.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

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captain-barnes-writes · 3 years

Text

505

Summary: On her summer break from college, Y/N embarks on an affair with Lee Bodecker. But she realizes that not all that drips from his lips is honey.

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x reader

Warning: Age gap, language, angst, cheating, sexual content, unprotected sex (pls wrap it before you tap it, this work is fiction 😤), some dark Lee.

SMUT—18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.7k NOT PROOFREAD. ( Comments, tips & suggestions are greatly appreciated!)

1962

She waited. Body plush on the bed donning the new satin burgundy lingerie Lee had gifted her. The only light in the room was coming from the lamp on her end of the table and she was grateful for it.With the curtains drawn, the room was dim and it depicted the mood she’d been in for the past week.

She should’ve loathed him, shouldn’t even have shown up to see him. But it would be the last time she would do so and she’d put her pride aside to be engrossed in him one last time. She would cherish the moment, cling to him like she never had before because she really would miss him. She knew she’d miss him terribly. Being far away from him would crush her heart, but she hoped the distance would alleviate the guilt.

What they were doing was so wrong. A betrayal that had her aching every single time they met and the following days she would wallow in guilt. Yet she’d do it all over again that one day of the week, at times even more, come back to the same room to be at his disposal. To be taken by him, pushed into the bed by his weight and fucked into a puddy mess.

She had deceived all those around her. So seemingly innocent with the way she carried herself in a manner that would never raise questions, that would never place faults on her family. With her pretty hair, the curl of her lashes and bright eyes she was the epitome of what all the girls in the town wanted to be. The daughter of the undersheriff of Knockemstiff provided her family with admiration from those in the town, it placed her family on a pedestal. It provided her with a fine education outside of her town in a nice college.

She should have been different, should have never involved herself in such destructive behavior. Actions that could very well place her family in an uncomfortable and embarrassing situation.

Her family, friends and especially Lee’s wife, Jane—they were all victims. Y/N couldn’t believe she had let things get so far with Lee. That she could ever betray her family by sleeping with one of their closest friends, her father’s boss.

She felt despicable, skin crawling as she felt herself get hot with shame all over again. It was a never ending cycle of self-hatred. It was especially so when she thought of Lee’s two children that her eyes were brimming with tears. She huffed as she thought that her last evening with Lee seemed to already be going downhill with the inundation of thoughts drowning her, never leaving her alone.

Her and the sheriff. They were forbidden fruit—they had sinned far greater than anybody. Betrayed those around them when they succumbed to their sweet desires.

Yet even with clear awareness of what she was doing, of what her actions could mean for those she was closest to she still went about doing it. Still found herself waiting for Lee Bodecker every Friday evening in the rundown motel minutes away from their families.

She deduced that it must have been her age, still young and lacking experience in many areas of her life. Lee had given her something she had never experienced before—exhilarating excitement. A type of excitement that kept her up most nights, thinking of how their next meeting would be like. What he would do to her next. It was the sneaking around, the long glances and especially the hours spent in room 505. A week ago, she had felt utter bliss being with him. Looked forward to falling into his arms, create crescent moons on his back with her nails and press their lips together in a matter only both knew how to.

She loved the domineering way he walked into their room with his dark leather jacket and sheriff’s uniform. The badge always seemed to do it for her. She was putty in his hands. Always.

She was so young next to him and had learned too much from him in such a short time as if she was his student. She learned what it meant to have her toes curling in pure content, to have her mouth hang open with no sounds coming out because the pleasure was that good. She couldn’t be blamed for putting herself in such a sinful disposition, he had unearthed a whole different side of life for her. The intimacy she had never experienced with anybody else. It was why she kept coming back.

Lee was far older than she was. A husband, father of two children and the town’s most important asset—the sheriff. Everything about him screamed authority. The way he walked into a room and without uttering a single word he’d command everybody’s attention. It was how he’d gotten to her so easily.

She’d grown up before his very eyes; transformed into a young woman and he had taken notice. How couldn’t he? She was so pretty. He didn’t feel an ounce of guilt as he took her and not even afterwards when they both went back to their respective families. He couldn’t feel the guilt when he was so utterly engulfed in her. When all he could think of was how her hair smelled like strawberries, how her small hands grabbed tufts of his hair all the meanwhile her legs wrapped around him. He was delirious with lust, seeing her and her only.

Y/N was on break from college and had more time to visit her father at the station. She’d drop off lunch a few times a week for him and when her father was out of his office to tend to last minute duties, Y/N would knock on Lee’s office and offer him her father’s lunch. It was kind of her, the way she thought of him. It was then when those kind gestures began to build on him, a type of effect that snowballed into yearning to have her.

Maybe it had been her velvety voice or the way she seemed to carry herself with such quiet elegance and a feel of serene ambiance. The clothes she wore were perfectly stitched for her. Bright high square neckline tops and high waisted cotton shorts with drawstrings. Her choice of clothing gave a peek to the silkiness of her legs and it wasn’t much but it had him hardening every time she walked through his office door.

He didn’t really know how he’d done it. He’d just talk to her, sweet talk his way into making her want him. He’d stare longingly at her, the blue of his eyes romanticizing whatever it was that he wanted from her. Had he been fully honest with her she would have never looked at him, never let him fuck her.

Jane and I are separated, Lee had told her. Deceiving her was the only way, Lee couldn’t have done it any other way. And she had eaten it all up. Believed him as his wife stayed at home more and more, limiting her interactions with him in public. It was a lie that had worked out until it hadn’t.

It wasn’t until a week back, Y/N had gone to the farmer’s market wanting to buy fresh produce. Upon entering the highly filled space of the market she noticed the back of Jane’s head. How couldn’t she? She was the only redhead in the whole town of Knockemstiff. She had almost turned back immediately, feeling nervous at the sight of the woman who warmed Lee’s bed every night. Jane had looked back suddenly and met her eyes within an instant and a smile formed on her lips. She turned, a moment still stuck in her head as if it happened in slow motion, and it felt like the air had been knocked out of her. The swell of her midriff was unavoidable, too obvious to tear her eyes away from it. Jane walked forward, hand on her belly.

“It’s so good to see you, Y/N.” Jane spoke, voice high pitched as always. She was always so cheery and kind, a smile on her face. And she stood ever so clueless in front of her, before someone who climbed on her husband as often as she could.

Y/N was speechless as the shock was evident on her face. Her stomach was large enough to be over six months and she was right when she was finally able to speak and ask her how far along she was and Jane had confirmed it. She had been on bedrest being a high risk pregnancy but was now feeling more herself, more able to be out and about. And it all made sense to her then.

The sweet and honeyed words that Lee had uttered to her about a separation between him and his wife. That they had drifted apart with time and were waiting for the right time to file for divorce, his excuse for not being able to do so was the upcoming election. It all made sense then. The intimacy they had shared created a blurred line for her, had clouded her thoughts when she was in his arms.

He was good at lying. Fantastic at it, she had to give it to him. He had used his wife’s ordered bed rest to his advantage, had used it to get his way with Y/N. Quench whatever thirst he felt that only she could satiate him.

It angered her, but mostly she felt a deep type of disappointment consume her. What he had done was unforgivable and she couldn’t come forward and say it. She couldn’t because she’d be burnt in the midst of it all too. But she thought of it again and again, went in circles around how he’d done such a thing. How the honey dripping from his lips had been venom in truth. It had all been lies.

It seemed as though decades of experience and a decorated career had given Lee a damned way of always getting what he wanted. Having the ability to twist the truth, to hide facts and move the pieces around to whatever was most convenient for him. He was astute that way. Giving her his absolute attention when he was alone with her, staring at her as if she was the only girl he ever wanted, as if she held the key to the world.

He whispered false promises into her ear, soft and sweet. Convenient. He would kiss her as if he had missed her, as if his day was suddenly a lot better because of her. As if she meant something. That she was more than just a distraction; an easy fuck. And she had fallen for it all, walked right into his trap.

And for Y/N, all of the sweet nothings he would say to her, the lust-induced promises he would make to her as they came down from their high always filled her with stupid hope. Clinging onto his every word, his every move. When she was in his arms, she felt the world and all its worries melt away. The blue of his eyes had hypnotized her, the bitter taste of his lips tranquilized her into believing everything he would say.

The door knob to the room began twisting loudly, breaking her from her deep trance. The sound of keys fumbling behind the door and a loud huff coming from the man that destroyed her. She swallowed thickly and wiped the end of her eyes to rid of the evidence of what she already knew. She would do this one last time with him. Succumb to him one last time before it all came to an abrupt end.

“Baby doll.” Lee grinned when he pushed past inside slamming the door shut behind him. His jacket was already on the floor and his harsh steps on their way to the bed. Y/N looked up at him, transforming her saddened look to the smirk she knew he liked so much. She pushed herself from her lying down position to her knees knowing he would love seeing her in the lingerie he had gifted her.

He did. His eyes perked up at the sight of the smooth flesh of her breasts that were almost spilling from the sheer balconette bra, the swell of them tantalizing him. The thin material of her panties, sheer and satin, too were captivating. It earned her a harsh bite of his lip.

“Look at you, doll. It fits you perfectly just like I knew it would.” He groaned as he placed a knee on the bed and grabbed hold of both her arms to pull her towards him.

He kissed her like he wanted to swallow her whole. As if he wanted to print his lips on hers, mark them for life. And she kissed him back with a ferocious need, desperate and sad all at once. Her tongue was swiping against his fighting for dominance. She knew he’d question it, the neediness of her movements. Of how her hands were already unbuckling his belt as she kissed him with seemingly all her might. It would be the last time, he just didn’t know it yet.

“What’s gotten into you baby doll?” Lee hummed as he pulled away. His lips red from her attack, the blue of his eyes gleamed as he felt the throbbing of his cock when she finally brought his pants down halfway. Her hand began palming the thick print through his boxers and she knew that even though he was questioning her, peering up at him and noticing the wild expression on his face, she knew he loved it.

“You missed me that much baby?” He swiped his tongue against his lips as she nodded all the meanwhile pulling him to lay down on the bed. His pants were a puddle on the floor with Y/N’s figure pushing him down onto the soft mattress. He was surprised at her taking the reigns of the situation, showing a dominance she never had before. He would always be the one to push her down onto the bed, attack her lips with a week’s worth of pent up frustration.

“I did miss you.” She whispered. The softness of her hands took hold of his briefs and pulled them down the extremities of his legs. He seemed needy as well, removing his tie and unbuttoning his white shirt. She felt her whole body on fire, needing to touch him and kiss him all at once; a feeling so overwhelming.

Her nimble hands grasped his cock, already hard and head swollen with pent up need. The mere feel of her hands had him groaning and when she began pumping him, his hands reached out to the swell of her breasts. Admiring them wasn’t enough anymore he needed to run his hands over them, cup them in his hands and flick the nipples under his fingers.

She was needy, he noticed from the very beginning. Her movements were eager yet well calculated, knowing what and how he liked it. He knew he would let her take control for the first half, but would make sure to take back the dominance he loved to have when he filled her up.

Her mouth came down on him, tongue flicking against the angry head of his dick before she came down halfway then came up again. Her hands were still pumping the base of his cock, never being able to take him all in her mouth. It made her slightly upset wanting nothing more than to feel him at the back of her throat.

Lee’s orbs glazed over as he watched his girth disappear inside his girl’s mouth. She was so talented that way, savoring him and trying her best to take him all. She was a fast learner. Learned to take him in such a short time, inside the crevice hidden between her thighs and the wetness of her mouth. This time, to Lee, she seemed insatiable. She was moaning, tongue sloppily swooshing at the head and the entirety of his cock. With her swollen lips, she kissed it as if he’d gifted her something entirely far too great and she was grateful for it.

He was a big man in all aspects. His soft belly had come into view as his shirt was discarded on the floor too. She had come to like it so much over the summer, love the fullness of it and the strength that characterized him. His arms were strong, shoulders broad and his piercing blue eyes were the gem she had never quite noticed before.

She never really paid much attention to him before, he was just the sheriff of Knockemstiff, a family friend and her father’s boss. That was all. Yet as the years passed and she grew up, he noticed it and when the time came he gave her the right type of attention—sweet and savory words that had her thighs squeezing together. She had fallen for a man who quite frankly was quite intimidating. Someone who was forbidden.

She took her time with him. Fingers wrapped tightly against his girth keeping a fair momentum all the meanwhile her mouth continued its exploration as if savoring him. Like it was their first time. He tasted so good, salty and just him. Her sweet assault had him groaning above her and one of his hands was still flicking her nipple, struggling to keep it there when her mouth was making everything difficult.

“Fuck baby get up here.” Lee breathed out, one of his hands pulling her hair up forcing her mouth off him. He was always rough with her and she’d grown to love it; learned to take it. To have her skin red and raw from his hands and mouth. Y/N swallowed thickly, knowing exactly what he wanted.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before climbing on top of him, feeling the stiffness of his cock at her clothed core. His hand tangled into her hair and brought their lips together in a sloppy kiss. He felt so good rubbing against her pussy, clothed or not, he was so hard she could every ridge and vein. Desperate to feel more of him, her hips began grinding against the place she wanted to sink down onto. She wanted him so badly but knew what he wanted from her, where he wanted to have his mouth.

When he pulled away from her, he gave her a knowing look and patted her arm. It was his signal for her to move up. She felt her cheeks becoming hot as her hands pushed the small panties down her legs and onto the edge of the bed. She climbed further up until her most private place was in complete direct contact with his face. He sighed at the heavenly sight of her pussy, her folds already glistening with her arousal and he felt even harder knowing his baby girl felt embarrassed. She was especially shy when he coaxed her into having her sit on his face. But why wouldn’t he want her thighs crushing his face, her pussy in direct contact with his mouth when she was so delicious.

The first swipe of his tongue on her folds had her moaning out loud into the silent motel room. When his tongue flicked against her clit in a torturous pace, she began panting feeling so vulnerable and overwhelmed in the position all at once. His hands were on both sides of her hips keeping her in place yet they were kneading the soft skin there, feeling the slight stretch marks that decorated her hips and ass. He was relishing the taste of her nectar on his tongue, salty and sweet all at once and he felt like he couldn’t get enough.

“Fuck baby girl you always taste so damn good.” He groaned as he gripped the sides of thighs tighter, the skin dimpling with the pressure. She looked down at him surprised, as she made sure to keep her balance by having her hands on the headboard and feet perked on the bed.

His hands grasped her hips tighter, fingernails digging into her skin. Her breathing was erratic, chest heaving harshly as his lips assaulted her folds. Sucking on the little nub that was making her toes curl. Overwhelmed with stimulation, it all came together building that familiar bubbling feeling inside her that had her gasping his name out. It spilled from her lips over and over again as he licked and sucked on her pussy lips at a pace that couldn’t have been more perfect.

With a cry, she felt her legs quaking as she reached her peak. It coiled inside her until it came loose. Her orgasm spilled onto the inside of her thighs and Lee’s tongue cleaned it all off her. The rumbling of his chest as his baritone voice worded out compliments to her. How she tasted so sweet and he couldn’t wait to fuck her.

“I need you to fuck me Lee. Right now.” Y/N commanded as soon as the filthy compliments slipped from his lips. She felt desperate to feel him inside her, to take her one last time. She just didn’t know what was waiting for her, of what he already knew. That he was simply entertaining her little game.

Her eyes were glossed over, still reeling from the overwhelming feeling her orgasm had washed over her. He looked surprised at her foul words. She was usually reserved, letting him do whatever he wanted with her and however he wanted to. Yet her taking control over the situation had him aching for her even more. The excitement bubbling and boiling over.

He patted her thighs again as her shaky legs managed to move over and sit on the bed. Confusion took over as she saw Lee scoot down and off the bed. He wiped her confusion right off as he grabbed her feet and pulled her towards the edge of the bed. He was more than ready to take her. His dick rock hard.

“Get on all fours.”

Her breathing still uneven from the remnants of her first orgasm, she pushed herself to her knees and hands both allocated on the bed. She felt his calloused hands on her ass and knew his eyes were devouring the view she was giving him. With her body perked up on the bed, ass in clear eye view to him she felt shy all over again. His hand came down onto her flesh harshly leaving behind a searing buzz. And he did it again and again until shrieks left her mouth.

His full lips kissed on the marks of her skin, leaving behind a trail of wetness before he stood upright again. Gripping his hardened cock in his hand and brought it to her core. Rubbing it on her silky folds, using the wetness from her opening to coat his cock to better prepare her for the stretch that always left her mewling.

Y/N gripped the sheets with her hands bracing herself for him and when he finally entered, her mouth fell open. He moved until she was fully filled with his cock, until his happy trail met the skin of her ass. And he began moving, not giving her time to adjust because he needed to feel more of her. To revel in the feeling of being inside her tight walls, to see her turn into nothing but moans and cries.

Her back arched as the pace of his strokes picked up. He felt deeper and deeper with each push. It felt like he was pulling her so far from herself as her eyes rolled back with the sensation he was giving her. This was her favorite position but they had never quite done it like this. Not with him standing on the floor and her body perked up on the bed. It gave him more leeway, more freedom to move at a faster pace. To roll his hips, to slam them down until her skin was red.

“You like it when I fuck you like this baby?” Lee asked as he came down and she felt the hotness of his breath on her back. A meek yes fell from her lips. His lips kissed the skin below her delicate bra, the burgundy color of it complimenting her skin tone so prettily. Lee nipped and bit on the skin leaving behind red marks in his wake. She shuddered with the fanning of his breath, hot and wet on the skin of her back and her sheets were gripped tighter on her fisted hands.

His hands suddenly left another red mark on the skin of her ass with a harsh spank before they came up and took hold of her unruly hair. He grasped the hair tightly as he stood upright again and began a relentless rhythm with his hips. She couldn’t help but be loud, crying his name out loud over and over again because he was the only man who could ever make her feel such pain and pleasure all at once. It was overwhelming how the myriad of emotions and feelings conjoined together during their acts of passion and she could still feel the searing fire bubbling inside here yet again. She was closer every time his hips snapped against her core, pushing that one familiar toe-curling feeling from her.

“I’m gonna cum Lee oh my god.” She cried out, hair still in his grasp. It was uncomfortable but she could take it. The roughness of his movements, of his cock filling her up and her hair tangled in his hands. She felt it all as her toes curled in the shockwaves of her orgasm. It ripped through her in countless curses and jolts that Lee’s hand let go of her hair and her head fell onto the mattress. She felt weak, knees wobbly with the intensity of her shattering finite.

“I want you to look at me when you cum, Lee. Please.” She whispered, voice so low she thought he wouldn’t hear the softness of it. He did.

Lee held onto the flesh of her hips and flipped her onto her back. His body joined hers on the bed again, him on top of her. Lee noticed a thin sheet of sweat had built up on her chest and forehead, breathing still erratic from the aftermath of her orgasm. She looked so beautiful to him, completely fucked and disheveled because of him. Her request had his insides churning knowing why she was being so demanding this time around, why her movements from the beginning of the night had been quick to feel him, so desperate for him as if starved of his touch.

His cock slipped inside her folds yet again and they both groaned in unison. Their eyes met for what seemed only the second time that night and the intensity of what they both felt turned into thick tension. He wanted to fuck it all away, rid himself of the reality of their situation. Of the grimy situation they were both in, of what he had done. His lies had gotten him so far yet it all seemed to be coming to an end.

He continued his ardent stare, hips rolling against her core as if rushed. Wanting to sear their acts between her legs forever, never letting her forget that he was the only man who could make her feel this way. That despite what he had done, nobody would ever compare to him.

“I’m gonna cum baby, you’re gonna take it all?”

She nodded fervently, knowing that if she spoke her voice would break. Tears began wetting her cheeks, sliding down as the noises in the small motel room escalated. His hips were stuttering against hers already, almost reaching his peak, but still keeping the same harsh momentum that had her mouth falling ajar.

Chasing his own end. The wetness of her arousal was driving him insane, making the movements of his dick inside her much easier. He felt the warmth of her engulfing him, wrapping him up in such a delicious way he knew he’d finish inside her in no time. She was crying out, loud and soft all at once and he felt so pleased with himself as he stared at how angelic she looked. The youth so evident on her skin, the long lashes curled and her glazed eyes still connecting with his. The look on her face had his hips bucking against hers harder, wanting her even more even though he already had her and was already fucking her the way he wanted to.

He brought his face down to meet her lips, to kiss her with a need so strong it felt as if it was crushing him. He bit her bottom lip harshly before letting it go and sucking on her tongue. His movements left her breathless and gasping. His dick was moving inside her and she could feel the veins and rough ridges of it. It was deliciously painful the way their skin slapped against each other, harsh and sensual. It felt like he had reached places inside her she never thought to be possible, the sensation of being filled to the hilt. A fullness that had her aching.

With a string of curses and grunts, Lee’s hips bucked one last time and spilled his seed inside her. He bent down to give her a sweaty kiss before he removed himself from her and collapsed back on the bed.

“You’re amazing baby doll. We’re still on for next friday right?” He breathed out, head turning to look at her. Her eyes were turned to the ceiling and she forged a smile.

“Yes.”

Lee rolled his eyes at the way the lie rolled off her mouth so effortlessly. As if she had practiced it countless times.

“You think I wouldn’t know baby girl?”

“Know what?” Her head snapped to look at him. And as if suddenly feeling shy, her hands gripped the sheets beginning to cover the delicacy that was her body.

“Don’t play stupid with me. You think Jane wouldn’t run her big mouth to me about seeing you at the market? Or how your daddy is all sad about you wanting to leave back to college three weeks before your classes even start?”

“I-I’m sorry.” It hurt to apologize. The words were shaky and unbelievable as she had nothing to be sorry for. He had deceived her just as much as they had deceived both their families. Had lied to her about his separation from his wife in order to get her on her knees. Yet the wild look on his face and the rough tone his voice had taken left her feeling shaky. As if she was treading on broken glass.

“Don’t give me that shit.”

“You lied to me, Lee. You think it was easy for me to see Jane with a big belly? H-How shocked I was?”

“Would you even have looked my way if I told you her and I were still together?” He asked. The incredulous question came so easily, as if it wasn’t the craziest thing he had ever said.

“Of course not.” She muttered. Her voice broke as tears spilled from her eyes. It was the pressure of knowing the truth that made her body shudder. The man laying next to her wasn’t at all who she thought he was. She knew it yet still met him one last time. She wanted to show him what he would be missing when she was gone, of what he had lost out on. Yet the man had been a step ahead of her.

She scooted away to the edge of the bed ready to hurriedly put her clothes back on and leave him for good. The sudden movement had Lee in a panic and his hand yanked her back to the center of her bed. Her shriek was cut to a halt when his large hand wrapped around her throat constricting her breathing. Her glossy orbs stared into his in utter disbelief. She didn’t believe it was real. None of what was happening was registering for her because it couldn’t have been real. Lee couldn’t do that to her.

The disbelief slipped away slowly. Chipping away as the seconds passed. She shut her eyes tightly hoping that when she opened them he wouldn’t be there. Or that at least his hands wouldn’t be on her throat.

When she opened them again he was still there. Eyes wide with fury, rough hands still on her throat. The pressure was less than before as if he was realizing what he was doing.

“Fuck.” Lee griped. “You ain’t leaving yet darlin’. You got that?”

She nodded slowly, eyes still leaking with hot tears. All she wanted was to breathe. To get some air into her lungs. His hands stayed.

“You’ll come back here next friday or any other day I ask.”

It tightened.

“You got that?”

She nodded again, this time in a hurried manner. He let go. She coughed as the air began to fill her lungs once again.

She should’ve known not to mess with the sheriff.

Hope you guys like this. Not my best work but I tried my best 😅💀 Somewhat inspired by my favorite Arctic Monkeys song, 505!

Can you guys tell I love Lee? And age gap fics?😂 it is what it isssss. Posted this at 2 am in pure anxiousness lol

@jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @iheartsebandchris @captainkitteh @gloriouspersonbanditrascal @sillygamingartghost @han-xe @awesomerextyphoon @princessofdarkwinter @kenzieam @lalaparker @21stcenturywitchcraft

Divider by @writeyourmindaway !

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somewhatgreatexpectations · 3 years

Text

Nirvana (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello, again! We have reached Infinity War! Loosely inspired by Sam Smith’s “Nirvana”. Pieces from the film are used here with some definite adjustments. Let me know what you think.

Summary: Wanda and Y/n attempt to navigate the course of healing. Will other circumstances get in their way?

“It's too late to run away from it all, it's too late to get away from it all, I'm done with running, so I give in to you.”

Being on the run with Wanda was a stark contrast to being on the run alone. The feeling of emptiness was easily replaced with fulfillment and meaning with Wanda. She transformed what used to be a burden that weighed heavily on you into something light and manageable.

You both spent days and nights rebuilding the ruins of trust that used to lay shattered at your feet. It wasn’t always easy. Some nights were hard and ended in screaming and tears, others were effortless and made it feel as if no time had ever passed between the two of you. Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but completely adore both sides.

There was no doubt in your mind that the love you both shared together had blossomed into something even more powerful than it was before. There was one problem though, you couldn’t seem to allow the final wall you had built around your heart to fall. That final line between friendship and romance seemed to be the hardest for you to cross.

You knew that Wanda noticed, but she never pushed you for more than you offered. She was fully aware that you had to set the pace and that she had to earn her way back in. She was more than willing to be patient.

Currently you were both located in a small apartment in Scotland that truly felt like a place you could both call home with the beauty and stillness that the city offered. Unfortunately, you’d been stuck inside the last few days because of a torrential downpour. When you heard the rain stop, you wandered over to the large bay window and opened the curtains fully to allow the moonlight to seep in.

Wanda looked up from her book when you left your shared bed. Her eyes watching you curiously. “The sky looks beautiful tonight.” You whispered in awe, your eyes locked on the full moon.

With a small smile, Wanda put her book down and wandered over to you, slowly wrapping her arms around you from behind. She always allowed you time to pull away. “Not as beautiful as you, moya lyubov.” She whispered against your ear and pressed a light kiss to the side of your head.

With ease, you leaned into her, so your back was pressed flush against her front. Your hands rested over hers. “Wanda?”

“Hmm?” she hummed as she buried her face into your neck.

“I’m happy you’re here.” You confessed quietly, feeling vulnerable at your admission.

Even though you couldn’t see it, you could feel her smile against your neck before she turned you in her arms, so you could face one another. “And I am happy you’re here with me.” She rested her forehead lightly against yours.

“Wanda, I…” you stared into her beautiful green eyes which watched you adoringly. Your heart pounded nervously against your ribcage. The words practically hanging off your lips. “I…”

Lovingly, she raised a hand to lightly caress your cheek. “Yes?” Her tone was patient.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” you finally stuttered out, avoiding saying what you truly wanted to at the last minute. Not able to shake that last remnant of fear in your heart.

Disappointment flashed briefly across Wanda’s face before she replaced it with a small smile. “It’s cold out though, krasivaya. We should stay in and cuddle and watch our show instead.” She countered offered hopefully.

You turned your face slightly and kissed the palm of her hand, watching her practically melt at the action. While Wanda tried to show affection as often as she could, you still hesitated the majority of the time so even small actions like this made her swoon.

“It’s beautiful out though,” You said with a pout. “And we’ve been trapped inside the last few days. Let’s just go for a little.”

Wanda threw her hands up in defeat and turned away from you to get dressed. “You’re lucky I love you.” She grumbled as she put on her boots. You couldn’t help the small smile that appeared at her words.

Half an hour later you were both walking hand in hand down an empty cobble stoned street. You couldn’t help but watch her out of the corner of your eye, the way her nose became pink against the cold night air, the way her eyes were so full of life despite the circumstance. You loved her, all of her. Your efforts to prevent yourself from loving her always proving to be futile. It was impossible to not love her.

You decided you needed to try and tell her again. To push passed your fear.

“What?” she asked with a laugh. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

You pulled her to a stop and smiled slightly at her. “Because you are beautiful.”

A rosy pink spread across her cheeks as she ducked her head shyly. “Quite the charmer there, Y/n.”

“Wanda, I need to tell you something.” You said seriously.

Her brows furrowed in concern at your sudden change of tone. “Of course, what is it?”

You took a deep breath and took both her hands in yours. “For so long I felt broken. Convinced that a broken heart was just something I would just have to learn to live with. The pain from that night on the roof was so intense that I sealed off my heart. Swearing that I would never allow someone back in… Swearing I’d never allow someone back in because I knew I wouldn’t survive the pain a second time.” Wanda’s thumb traced over your knuckles soothingly as she listened with rapt attention. “I never would have imagined that you’d be the one to help stitch me back together.”

The vulnerability you allowed yourself to express made you feel anxious as your gaze fell to the floor. Wanda gently used her thumb to tilt your head up so you could look into her eyes again.

The love was clear in her eyes as she slowly leaned forward, giving you time to pull away. Rather than pull away, you met her half way and connected your lips in a gentle kiss. Sighing contently at the contact as Wanda gently tugged you closer by the waist. This was the first genuine kiss you had both shared since your break-up. Kissing her felt right and you couldn’t help but feel at home in this moment.

When you pulled away you rested your forehead against hers. Watching the way her eyes glimmered happily. “Wanda, I lo-“

“Wanda.” The sound of another voice interrupted your words. You both turned to find Vision in his human form as he walked over to her urgently, making no attempt to address you. “I need your help.”

At the sight of him, you stepped away from Wanda slightly, which caused her to frown. “How did you find me, Vis?”

“I am part android, Wanda.” Vision said simply then winced. “It’s the stone, I need you to tell me what you feel.” He said and grabbed Wanda’s hand, placing it over the stone.

Wanda looked back at you hesitantly, but you were looking off in the distance, your arms crossed defensively. She couldn’t help but feel like she just took dozens of steps back in the progress she had made with you.

With a sigh she looked back at Vision and allowed her magic to enter the stone. “I just feel you.” She replied with confusion.

Before either could say anything, you took urgent strides away. Wanda immediately noticing and following you, worried you were trying to leave her. You stopped in front of a shop window. Your eyes focused on the screen that was facing out towards the street. With concern, you watched the scene of what was occurring in New York play out on the TV. “What are they?” you questioned, more to yourself than anything.

“What the stone was warning me about.” You heard Vision reply as he came to a stop beside you both.

Even if you didn’t know what was happening you knew you needed to do something, you needed to help. “Wanda, I won’t ask you to go if you don’t want to, but I think I need to go. To do what I can to help.” You said quietly as you began walking backwards.

Wanda’s eyes became wide with nerves, she knew she had to convince you to stay. “Y/n, I don’t think going is a good idea. Maybe you should wait until-“

“Wanda-“ Your words were cut off as you felt something slice deeply into your side and throw you into the wall of the building you were standing next to.

“Y/N!” Wanda screamed, instantly moving to run to you when a creature stepped in front of her.

The being chuckled at her tears. “Fear not, we are not here for her, but for him.” Before Vision or Wanda could react, the same object that had sliced into you had stabbed Vision and propelled him to the opposite side of the street. Wanda stepped back and was preparing to attack when she got hit with a force and was hurled into a window. The creatures took the opportunity and began digging into the stone on Vision’s head.

Weakly, you stood up, holding your bleeding side as you flicked your wrist, forcing the creature to sink into the floor. The other one turned to face you angrily when you felt yourself become incased in a red glow and get thrown in the air along with Vision. The ground quickly approached you until you felt the same red glow cushion the impact and place you back down.

Wanda tried to help you sit up when you waved her off. “Help Vision, he was hit worse.” She looked reluctant but did as you asked and helped him up as the three of you moved into an arch way to find some semblance of safety. Wanda wearily waved her hand over Vision’s wound as futile wisps of red attempted to seal it.

“The blade. It stopped me from phasing.” Vision gasped out between pained breathes.

Wanda turned towards you with wide eyes. “Is that even possible?”

“It’s not supposed to be.” Vision’s labored reply came.

Trying to ease Wanda’s nerves you quietly mumbled, “I’m beginning to think we should have stayed in and cuddled like you asked.” A weak smile crossed her lips before the creature flew in and took Vision.

Before either of you could react, the second creature came and attacked, cutting into your wound again. You hissed in pain as Wanda furiously sent the creature flying back at the sound of your pain. Working together you were able to keep her at bay until Vision’s screamed echoed through the plaza you were in. “Go, Wanda! I can handle this.” You shouted to her.

“Y/n, no.” She began to protest, forcing the being back with her powers.

“GO!” You shouted, building a wall from the concrete to buy yourself time. It was clear that Wanda didn’t want to go, but you saw the flashes of red lift her up and onto the building that Vision was taken to anyway.

Using your hands, you manipulated the concrete to attach to the being’s hands, forcing them down into the ground as you brought the clock tower down and buried her in the rubble. Quickly manipulating the earth until she was completely encased. As you were looking around for the next best course of action, you felt Wanda fly down and wrap an arm securely around you as she used her powers to propel the three of you into the air and away from danger.

The moment was short lived though as you felt a blast of energy hit Wanda and suddenly the three of you were free falling. You felt Wanda wrap her body tightly around yours in mid-air, obviously trying to absorb the impact. The glass ceiling you crashed into shattered easily as you slipped out of Wanda’s arms and slid across the platform of the train station and into a metal rail. You groaned when your side made impact with the railing. Vision landing on the opposite end.

Wanda urgently rushed over to you. Her tone was panicked. “C’mon, get up. We have to go.” She gingerly placed an arm under you and helped you stand. The blood drained from her face when she saw her hand come away covered in blood. You leaned against the rail behind you weakly. Just a moment later the creatures returned. Without hesitation, Wanda turned to take a protective stance in directly front of you as her hands began to glow.

The creature seemed more interested in something over Wanda’s shoulder though as it threw its weapon which was stopped in its trajectory by the shadow.

A moment later, Steve stepped out of the shadows. You couldn’t help the look of relief that spread across your features as you sunk back down to the floor, feeling woozy from all the blood loss. Wanda rushed over to you, pressing tightly to the bleeding area of your abdomen. You vaguely watched as Sam and Natasha attacked the beings by surprise but the injury made it impossible to focus for long. It seemed as though you blinked and suddenly Steve was marching over to you as Sam and Natasha helped Vision up.

“Let’s get you home and patched up.” He said gruffly as he lifted you into his arms. Wanda followed closely behind, worry never fading from her expression. With the adrenaline wearing off and the knowledge that Wanda was now safe, you decided couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer as you allowed the world fade out to black for rest.

______________________________

When you finally came to, you were almost certain that the events of the night before were just a nightmare, until you felt the dull throbbing in your side. You squinted your eyes open to find Wanda at your bedside, her hand in yours and her eyes worried. The tension draining from her shoulders when she saw your eyes open.

It seemed you were back at the Avengers tower infirmary.

“Y/n,” she breathed out. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I was so worried.” Gently, she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and tenderly kissed you, which you gladly returned.

When you pulled back you weakly chuckled as you tried to lighten the mood. “I wish I was a synthazoid like Vision, no blood. Faster rebound time.” Her eyes looked conflicted. You sat up, only wincing slightly. “What? What aren’t you telling me?”

With a sigh she squeezed your hand lightly. “We have to go to Wakanda. Steve says they might be able to extract the stone from Vision without destroying him. If that fails, I may need to destroy the stone myself.” She paused slightly, clearly troubled by the information. You knew what that implied.

“Are you okay?” you questioned, swinging your legs off the cot so you could be closer.

Wanda answered with an unconvincing nod. “I don’t know if it’s something I’ll be able to do.” She said quietly as you squeezed her hand in comfort. “I think you should stay.” She finally added, her expression serious.

Your brows furrowed. “I’m not going to stay. I’m going to help in whatever way I can... I need to go and make sure you’ll be okay.” You said with finality, leaving no room for her to argue.

She knew you wouldn’t budge, all she could do in response was move to stand in between your legs and take you into her arms tightly. Terrified of all that could happen. Terrified to lose you.

“So cute.” You heard a teasing voice call out from the door way. You looked up to see Natasha and Steve standing there. Steve with a content smile on his face.

Wanda pulled you closer as you rolled your eyes at Natasha. “Shut up.” You quipped playfully.

“I’m glad you’re up, kid. You lost a lot of blood on the flight back. You had me worried for a second there.” Steve admitted with a small frown.

Carefully you released Wanda from your arms and hoped off the cot, keeping her hand in yours all the while. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Capsicle.” You said lightly.

Despite the severity of the situation, Steve couldn’t help but laugh. He missed moments like this.

“Hate to take you away from lover girl, but Rogers and I have been waiting patiently for a hug.” Natasha said teasingly as she opened her arms. You looked at Wanda who let go of your hand reluctantly so you could hug the remaining two in the room.

When you pulled away from Steve, you gravitated back to Wanda, taking her hand in yours instinctively. Steve and Natasha exchanged pleased looks. “So,” you began nonchalantly, “When do we leave?”

Wanda clenched her jaw at your words, it was clear to everyone that she was unhappy with your decision.

Steve knew better than to fight you on something once your mind had been made though. “As soon as you’re dressed. Bruce will explain what we’re up against on the flight there.” _________________ Arriving in Wakanda was breathtaking as you marveled at the magnificent land, one short glimpse at Wanda let you know she was equally as awe struck. You just wished you were there on better circumstances.

There was very little time to admire as you were all ushered into a building where T’Challa’s sister, who’s name you learned was Shuri, could analyze Vision. You quickly realized Shuri was brilliant and far smarter than Bruce and Tony. You couldn’t help but snicker when she critiqued Bruce’s work on Vision, Wanda also giggling but being much more discreet than you.

As you listened to the conversation go on around you, you could feel Wanda slip her hand into yours and interlace your fingers. You turned your head to face her, taking note of how anxious she appeared. “Are you okay?” you asked quietly.

Wanda looked back at you with a hesitant smile. “As long as you’re here I am.”

You could feel the words on your lips again, those three little words that you’ve wanted to tell her since Scotland. You bit your tongue though because this moment didn’t feel right to tell her. Instead you lightly kissed her, hoping that she understood what your heart was trying to convey even if you hadn’t said it out loud yet.

The sound of a loud explosion caused you two to pull apart and glance out the window where the sound was coming from. You tried to keep a neutral face as you all watched what had to have been half a dozen foreign ships land outside the protection of the dome and attempt to enter.

“We’ll hold them off.” T’Challa said determinedly when Shuri explained she needed more time.

Steve turned to where you and Wanda stood. “Wanda, as soon as that stone is out of his head, blow it to smithereens.”

“I will.” Wanda said with a resolute nod as the rest of the team began moving out to go defend the land. You turned towards Wanda and she immediately began shaking her head when she saw the look in your eyes. “No. You can’t go.”

Gently, you brought her hand up to your lips and placed a short kiss on her fingers. “I have to. I have no use here. Out there though… out there they could use my help.”

“Y/n. No.” Wanda said seriously, her lip trembling.

You slowly began backing away, your extended hands keeping you connected. “I have to, Wanda. You know that.”

“Then I’ll go with you.”

You shook your head solemnly. Trying desperately to mask the fears you felt. “They need you here. You’re the only one that can destroy the stone, the only one that can stop Thanos.”

Wanda marched forward and took your face in her hands, kissing you passionately which you gladly returned for a moment, but you knew you had to go, so you reluctantly pulled away.

You reached a hand up to gently wipe away the single tear that fell down her cheek. “You and me, we’re a happy ending, okay? We’ll have a happy ending. I’ll always come back to you.” You whispered to her gently as you stared at one another for a moment. After a minute, you turned and ran out to catch up to the rest of the team before you lost your nerve.

“I love you.” She said to your retreating figure, wishing she said it just a moment before, wishing that you’d have a chance to say it to each other after the battle was done.

____________________________

Out on the battlefield, the fight was intense, and it genuinely felt for a moment as though you would all lose, each one of you out there heavily outnumbered in comparison to Thanos’ army. You were surrounded by the enemy with Natasha and Okoye, preparing to fight when red wisps suddenly appeared and redirected the deadly machines to the swarm of creatures that were about to overtake you all.

“That’s my girl.” You said proudly as Wanda turned to look at you, a small smirk on her lips.

Before any of you could react, you heard Steve over coms. “Anyone have eyes on Vision?”

Wanda shared a look with you, still reluctant to leave your side. You nodded at her reassuringly. “Go. I’ll be right behind you.”

“I love you.” She said sincerely and steadily before using her powers and flying away.

For a moment you allowed yourself to watch her. “I love you too.” You said to yourself before Natasha got your attention.

“Let’s go. They’ll need all the help they can get to keep him away from the stone.” Without hesitation all three of you began running towards the forest in the distance with determination. Herds of creatures attacking you along the way.

Eventually you saw an opening to not harm anyone on your side and used your powers to split the earth making the creatures fall in and clearing a path for you.

By the time you reached Wanda you found her standing over Vision’s lifeless body with a horror stricken look on her face.

“Wanda?” You called tentatively, but when she turned you felt your knees give out underneath you, an odd feeling of fading away overtaking your body.

Dread instantly filled Wanda’s body as she watched you fall to the floor. She hurriedly ran over to you and fell to her knees by your side, collecting you in her arms. “Y/n,” She cried urgently, “What’s wrong?”

“Wanda,” You whispered with a small smile on your face as you looked up at her, raising your hand to rest over her cheek. The simple action alone feeling almost impossible in your state of fading. “I love you. I'll always love you. I wish I had told you sooner. I wish we had more time.”

She let out a choked sob as she attempted to pull you closer. The words that she had dreamed of hearing from your lips out in the open, but this wasn’t how she wanted it. She didn’t want to hear those words as you were leaving her. She wanted to hear them and experience life with your love. She couldn’t lose you.

“Y/n, I love you. Don’t go,” She cried desperately, her forehead pressed firmly against yours as she pressed a desperate kiss to your lips. “Please, don’t go. I need you.” Wanda begged through broken sobs as she could feel you begin to disintegrate in her arms. Only a moment later you were gone, all that was left was dust in her hands.

Heartbroken cries fell from her lips as she clutched desperately at the ground you had been just moments before.

Only a moment later, she began feeling herself fade as well and willingly gave in to the feeling. The feeling brought her a despairing form of peace because with it came the knowledge that she wouldn’t have to exist in this world without you. The realization offered her a twisted form of comfort as she faded into nothingness as well.

Oof, part 11! I knew Infinity War was a lot but I didn’t realize how much until I wrote this. Next up is..... What do you all think is going to happen next? Remember there are two more chapters. ;) As always, hope you enjoyed and let me know your thoughts and comments! I love reading them all!

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brockadoodles · 3 years

Text

Let me tell you that I love you (4 +1) - b. boeser

AN: Burn this gif onto my grave honestly. BUT ANYWAYS. Uh decided to write during the Canucks game just in case they gave me pain. And they didn’t, and I finished something. A short sweet little 4+1 for you all. I haven’t written one of these in forever, so i really tried to keep each snippet short. Let me know what you think :)

Word Count: 3433

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol briefly

One

Brock Boeser was an irremediable fucking romantic. He was the guy who was always more than willing to cozy up on a rainy day with a tragic Nicholas Sparks-esque movie on in the background, never shy at admitting that something as achingly faux romantic as The Notebook could make him weep. He was the guy that all of the cliches were written about, the over sensitive Pisces who stitched his heart on the inside of his left sleeve, ready and eager to give it to someone. That someone, the one who he wanted to give his entire soul to over the last year had become you.

You were someone he had met by accident, a romantic comedy worthy moment where you both had bonded helplessly at some overly fancy bar where you both had been stood up on dates. He felt stiff in his suit jacket, and you were there in that beautiful navy piece that had him wondering how the stars and planets had aligned in such a way that he was lucky enough to be half enjoying a drink next to you. You had smiled at him, opening the gates for a shitty date turned into a memory he couldn’t wait to tell the story of in twenty five years. One chance meeting had become a date, and more dates after that until over the summer he was bringing you home to meet his parents, where he told you that he loved you for the first time.

Brock was nervous to take you home but it wasn’t because there was an underlying fear that his family wouldn’t see all of the things in you that he did. He was apprehensive because he knew the backstory of his own life was enough baggage to send someone away, and it had. He had gone through this before, bringing someone home who didn’t want to bear the burden of what life with Brock Boeser actually meant and that loss had shaped his perspective on relationships. Bringing you home was hard, because he wanted so desperately for this to work out, and if you couldn’t take on that baggage, he knew that it wouldn’t.

Brock felt like he had that nervousness in his chest and stomach for the whole first twenty four hours that you were there. You had flown in late, settling into bed and falling right to sleep next to him. You always found a way to sleep, whereas he was consciously restless late into the witching hour, anxious about the next day where you would be actually meeting his family for the first time.

He had spent so long waiting for the other shoe to drop, that when you got along seamlessly with his dad, he was still uncontrollably on edge. He was watching wordlessly as you sat out on the porch with Duke, a smile on your face as you listened to him, nodding and responding with Easton comfortably playing in your lap. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned, seeing his mom with a comforting expression on her face.

“She’s great, Brock. Stop waiting for the bad.” She murmured. Brock turned back to look outside, where you were just reaching a hand to his dad’s wrist and laughing. He felt like the air was exhaling from his lungs the longer he let his mom’s words marinate in his mind. Brock opened the slider door and stepped outside, slowly walking over and pressing a soft kiss to his dad’s cheek, who in return patted his hand reassuringly. He then moved to you, settling into the wicker chair next to you and letting you hand over his nephew who was now reaching for him. As you handed Easton over, it was like everything clicked into place for him. This was what he wanted one day with you, passing over your own child with the sun setting over the lake and family all around. That was the first time he realized that he had finally figured out what love meant, because the feeling struck him harshly. He loved you, and instead of overthinking the feeling, he told you.

“I love you.” He murmured, softly enough that only you could hear it. Your eyes widened and your mouth hung open as if he could see every thought that was stampeding through your mind. He recoiled a bit, diverting his eyes from yours and swallowing back the feelings he had just let escape without thinking about the consequences. You smiled awkwardly, grabbing his hand and lacing your fingers together. You brought his hand to your lips and pressed a soft kiss to it, your non verbal way of not reciprocating. It wasn’t until you were alone that you explained to him you just weren’t ready yet, a conversation that felt like a punch to his gut but that he bore with patience and understanding. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple after, reassuring you that he understood what you were saying. You didn’t not love him, you just weren’t there yet, something he could have the patience to wait for.

Two

The second time that Brock shared with you that he loved you was by accident. It was a classic case of drunk words revealing sober thoughts. Not that his love for you was a secret that he was trying to keep, but instead it was a closely locked away feeling that he was trying to wait to share again until you gave him the go ahead. The wait had been eating him up inside, a small sense of rejection had made a home out of his heart after telling you the first time didn’t go how he envisioned. He loved you, he was so beyond in love with you that he wished for nothing more than to be able to tell you that every second of every day. But you weren’t ready, and his sober self knew that, his wine drunk self, did not.

It was your birthday and Vancouver had blessed (or cursed, according to most of the people that lived there) you with a dusting of snow. It was nowhere near what Brock was used to from growing up in Minnesota. He was used to long winters where the lake would be a solid sheet of ice that he and his buddies could spend their days skating on, with sometimes over a foot of snow on the ground.

Vancouver snow was a different story. The small amount was enough to close businesses early, and cause the city to almost shut down until the snow was gone. The mere 5 inches was a lot to people in the pacific northwest, so he watched you with a fond expression as you dragged him down to the park that was near his condo, a pom pom beanie on your head and one of his jackets wrapped around you.

You both had knocked back almost two bottles of wine, and there was a hazy aura surrounding you as he watched you twirl around with your arms out, catching snowflakes in your hair. Brock grabbed your hand and pulled you into his chest, kissing your forehead and then your nose and cheeks that were cold from the snow.

“What are you doing?” You giggled, bringing your hand up to rest on his cheek as he looked at you. God, you were his entire fucking world, and once again he didn’t think before opening the box to that thought he had buried in his heart from the summer, the words slipping from his lips before any sense of sobriety could catch up to him.

“I love you.” He whispered, a soft smile tugging at his lips and his eyes searching yours, hoping for a different outcome than the first time just a few months prior. You stepped back from him, bracing your hands on his arms and shifting your gaze away, something that sobered him up completely.

“I’m not ready.” You mumbled, a sad expression behind your eyes that Brock wished wasn’t there. He tugged you closer into his chest, another soft kiss to your temple as he ran a hand along your back.

“Take as long as you need.” Brock reassured you, more than willing to live by that promise. You were worth any wait that he had to endure.

Three

Playoffs were Brock’s favorite part of his job. The rush of the do-or-die series was something that every player loved. He felt like playoffs were the time where his real skills came into view, where he stood on his own as a talented forward instead of in the shadows wondering where his place was. It wasn’t that Brock was insecure per say, he just always felt like he had something to prove, mainly to himself. The Canucks had battled through all of the rounds, knocking out their opponents, leading them here to the Western Conference Finals against Vegas. It was game seven, the last hurdle before playing for the cup, absolutely do-or-die for this season.

It was everything Brock had been striving towards. It wasn’t a Stanley Cup, but god in that moment it may as well have felt like one. A game seven game winning goal, sending the team to the finals. Every year he had spent plagued with injuries, wondering if he would ever get back to that spot he had been at his rookie year, wondering if he’d ever actually feel like he deserved to be a part of that core that were the faces scattered on the outside of Rogers Arena. He nearly couldn't breathe as the puck passed by Marc Andre Fleury, hitting the back of the net and sounding off the familiar goal horn. Elias and JT were quick to pile on top of him, nearly knocking him backwards into the boards as the rest of the team ran out onto the ice. This was everything he had hoped for, a chance to play for the Stanley Cup and he was in tears knowing it was his goal that sent him there.

After the game, all he wanted was to find you. He raced out of the locker room, past the press area where thankfully he still had twenty minutes before he needed to sit down for his interviews. He ran out into the tunnel, hair still slightly damp as he searched for you. It didn’t take him long to find you, you were standing near Holly. You turned to face him just as he rounded the corner into your line of view. He watched as you touched Holly’s arm, saying something to her that he wasn’t close enough to read on your lips. You nearly jogged up to him, jumping into his arms hard and sending him backwards as he braced for your impact.

The two of you stood there for a moment, ignoring the entire commotion around you as some of his other teammates were cheering and coming out. He didn’t care about any of it, he cared about you. You were the one who was there for the worst season of his career, and sharing this win with you was almost more special than the win itself. You grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him hard, peppering kisses after. Brock took this as his moment, another moment where he could share with you just how he felt.

“I love you, I love you, holy shit, I fucking love you.” He mumbled against your lips. You froze slightly in his arms, hesitating before you crashed your lips back into his, hopefully distracting him from the uneasy feeling in your chest.

“I am so proud of you, Brock.” You whispered. He just looked at you and smiled, ignoring the slight feeling of letdown he felt at your lack of reciprocation. You weren’t ready, and he was okay with that. Instead of dwelling he just kissed you one last time to your lips and then your temple, holding you close before he went to answer questions from people he didn’t care to answer to before you all were going to celebrate. The Canucks didn’t win the cup that year, and his first thought after watching the Flyers rush out and hoist the coveted trophy was that maybe the disappointment would fade once he got home to you.

Four

Brock Boeser was a fucking romantic, and there was nothing more romantic to him than a wedding. It didn’t matter how many he watched in movies, or attended as he got older and his friends and teammates started getting married. No matter who it was, there was something that calmed him about seeing two people so in love and committing to that for their lives. He always pictured his wedding, except it was only ever from his perspective. In his daydreams, he never saw someone walking down the aisle toward him, he only saw himself standing there with tears in his eyes and a smile on his face as he waited for whoever that person was to get to him. It wasn’t until he loved you that the perspective changed, and he saw himself looking at you walking toward him.

It was Troy and Emma’s wedding, a small gathering just outside of the city and Brock was in a good mood all day. He was humming softly as he drove the two of you there, a smile permanently settled on his lips as the soft sounds of Kodaline came through the speakers of the car. He had one hand secured with yours in your lap and occasionally he glanced over at you, wondering how in the hell he got so lucky to still have you.

The wedding was beautiful, Troy and Emma both cried softly as they went through their vows, cementing their relationship with that final first kiss as the small group of close friends and families sat in the gazebo in attendance. Brock held your hand the entire time, feeling his chest tighten when you reached up and kissed the back of it just as the vows were being shared.

He loved weddings, but going to one with you had him tumbling back toward that locked away feeling in his chest. The romantic atmosphere clouded his judgement and dared it to come out for another time to share it with you. Brock made a mental note to stop getting ahead of himself, to stop planning out an entire future with you when you weren’t ready to even say you loved him yet. He tried to push the anxiety away, the feeling that maybe he was the one holding you back, maybe he was too sensitive or putting too much pressure on you to say it back, even though he had only let it slip less than a handful of times. He swore that sometimes he felt it. Sometimes you would look at him just long enough, with your lips pursed and the words sitting right there as he waited, but then you would falter and shake your head a bit, playing the moment off with a smile. He counted so many of those times and they were casting doubt into his chest that maybe he was there planning an entire future with someone who would never realistically be ready, no matter how hard he wanted you to be.

You could tell that he was in his head, something about the way he was carrying himself through the day had you worried. You watched as his eyes wandered around the reception hall. He was watching everyone carefully and you knew him so well by now that it felt like you were almost inside his head with him. Only instead of letting you hear what was running through his mind, there was a locked door keeping you out. Brock shifted back to face you, grabbing your hand once more and helping you up.

“Dance with me?” He asked. Brock pulled you into his chest, wrapping an arm around your waist as he swayed slowly with you, not paying attention to much around him other than you. He was feeling grateful for a lot of things, grateful that he was able to share such a special day with some of his closest friends, grateful that now the picture of this with you was so clear in his mind, and grateful that you were there with him, dancing slowly around the room. Brock closed his eyes for a moment as you leaned your head into his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as he moved you around. He pictured all of it, the flower crown you’d probably wear, the smile on your face, and the tears in his own eyes that he would have watching as you came toward him. He pictured every last detail, a vivid dream that he was set on becoming a reality now.

“I love you.” He hummed, letting his eyes open slowly as you lifted your head. You didn’t even have to say you weren’t ready this time, the slight shift of your eyes had unfortunately become something that Brock was learning all too well. He did what he always did though, he pressed a soft kiss to your temple and tucked the box of love back inside, sighing softly to himself and wishing that one day you’d take it.

Plus One

Brock loved you in all the ways that he ever thought that he could love someone, down to each subtlety of your demeanor and personality. He loved the way you laughed at his bad jokes, the way that you were patient with his dad, and the way you cared so much about the health of the world. But he also loved the bad things, the little annoyances that came with navigating a relationship that was long distance part time, the way you’d sometimes leave a mess at his place, hitting a nerve after a tough loss, he loved all of those things because that’s what made you human and your relationship normal.

This morning wasn’t anything special, there was no event the previous night that had kept you out late. There was no celebration of any kind. You had come over for dinner and stayed, falling asleep tucked under his arm with Coolie and Milo snuggled at your feet. This no doubt was Brock’s favorite way to wake up, and he’d do it for a lifetime as soon as you’d let him.

Brock always woke up before you, he was often an early riser and whenever you were there he found himself settling in and watching you sleep for just a few moments before he would slowly roll away from you to get up and make coffee. This morning was no different. His fingers drummed along your hip as your eyes fluttered open and his chest filled with the same feeling he only ever imagined existed in an alternate reality. You smiled softly and tucked yourself closer into his chest, a soft and groggy good morning escaping from your lips. He didn’t have time to think about if you were on his page, he was already writing the rest of the book with you.

“I love you.” He said.

He supposed it was just another instance added to the shortlist in his mind of attempts at telling you he loved you. Brock was now zero for four, more than a strikeout on the scoreboard, but Brock was also patient, and didn’t mind a late bottom of the 9th inning comeback if it meant his love was finally reciprocated. He didn’t mind telling you he loved you, because he did, but a small part of his heart cracked each time you smiled and nodded in favor of saying those three words back that he’d do anything to hear. Each kiss to the temple after masking that crack in his chest that was widening, possibly too far to fill in with hope much longer.

Except this time, your smile wasn’t forced. There wasn’t a nervousness behind your eyes, there was something else. You leaned into him, kissing him softly while your hand tugged at the ends of his hair. Something felt different in this kiss, a calm wave settling into his chest instead of the usual feeling that Brock felt from the previous times he shared this with you. You pulled back, smiling at him brightly.

“I love you, too.” And those words that fell from your lips didn’t hold a flame to any of the hopeless romances he not so secretly liked to enjoy, he now had the real thing.

#brock boeser #brock boeser imagine #brock boeser story #brock boeser fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl x reader #brock boeser x reader

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pitterpatterpot · 3 years

Note

Can you please write a prompt when Aedion and Fenrys do something stupid but Gavriel and Vaughan catch them doing it, or shortly after with 114, 115, 116, 148 and 152?

Ah. When a family has the reckless members and the tired members.

114. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

115. “I mean, it could be worse.”

116. “This wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

148. “Things don’t always turn out the way we want them to.”

152. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

From a similar ask:

214. “Don’t you ever do that again.”

217. “H-How long have you been standing there?”

~~~

“This is, by far, the best and worse idea you’ve ever had,” Fenrys grumbles, looking down from their perch on the snow-slicked roof of Vaughan’s mountain holiday home.

“I’m a general, I’ve commanded an army,” Aedion reminds him, calculating the distance between them and the ground. “I think some of those decisions were pretty good and bad.”

“If Gavriel finds out about this, we’re dead.”

“Gavriel worries too much.”

“About you? Yes. About me? Only how he’ll kill me when he finds out I went along with this.”

“You bought the sled!”

“For the mountain! To go sledding down the mountain! Not the damn roof!”

And there they are, perched right before the slope of Aelin’s roof, Aedion on the from of the sled with Fenrys on the back. Fresh snow from the night before layers the roof and the ground below.

“I’m telling you, Aelin and I did this as kids. We were always fine. Her father would cheer.”

“I’m taking your word for it.” Fenrys huffs. “We have until the others get back from their hike.”

“You can pretend you’re against this all you want,” Aedion shuffles the sled closer to the slope, “but you were still the one who spent an hour looking for a way to fit the sled through the manhole.”

“I have to at least pretend to be against this,” Fenrys grumbles as a smile tries to fight it’s way through. “I’m supposed to be the elder here. Did you shovel extra snow at the bottom?”

“No, I’m an idiot who wants our bones to break,” Aedion huffs. “Yes, there’s extra snow at the bottom.”

They shuffle close together on the sled, a smaller model meant for winter fun. They stare down at the end of the roof, both grinning maniacally as they contemplate the small drop. Nothing compared to facing an army. Fenrys wraps his arms around Aedion, the younger of the two braced at the front. With one precarious movement the front of the sled is tipping forward.

And they’re off.

They both release a cheer as they fly over the icy surface of the roof, Aedion pulling up on the reins when they reach the edge as to avoid a complete nose dive. Yet the back of the sled catches on gutter, causing both of them to yelp as they fly off the sled in different directions. Both bodies land in the snow, a deafening crack sounding out.

“Aedion?” Fenrys gasps as he hauls himself up, looking in the direction of the sound.

He unwinds at the view of Aedion groaning just next to him. Then he freezes, eyes fixating on where the porch guardrail is cracked and ripped apart. And even worse, the scent of blood perpetuates the air.

“I mean,” Aedion mumbles from beside him, “this could be worse.”

Fenrys says nothing.

“Things don’t always turn out the way you want them to,” Aedion groans, rolling onto his back. “At least, not the first time. We can try again later.”

“Aedion-“

“What?”

“You have a shard of wood sticking out of your leg.”

Aedion looks down where he, indeed, has a wedge of the rail pierced through his calf muscle. He hums.

“Well,” Aedion sits up, “this wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

“Gavriel is going to kill me,” Fenrys hisses, shifting to his knees and immedtaleaning over the injured leg. “Fucking hell, he is going to slaughter me. I can’t heal this! I’m not as good at healing as he is!”

“Just try and we won’t have to tell Gavriel!”

Without warning Fenrys grabs a pile of snow and shives it on top of Aedion’s leg, causing him to hiss and jerk in irritation. Fenrys ensures the small puddle of blood is covered in record time, grateful that the snow helps muffle the scent. Aedion stares at Fenrys in disbelief, annoyance dripping off him in waves.

“What the hell-“

“Aedion! Fenrys!”

Aedion stiffens, turning to see Gavriel and Vaughanwalk towards them from the forest clearing.

“Gavriel! Vaughan,” Aedion clears his throat. “H-How long have you been standing there?”

“We headed back early from the hike,” his father explains, making his way over to them. “By the way, I thought I heard you say you had something to tell me? I heard you as I was arriving.”

“Fae hearing!” Fenrys declares loudly, laughing and sending Aedion a warning glance. “We sure can hear from far away!”

Vaughan and Gavriel share a befuddled look.

“I know? Fenrys, what’s going on, are you- my gods!” Gavriel’s expression turns to one of shock. “The railing! What did-“ he glances at the sleigh, then the roof, his expression turning thunderous.

Both Aedion and Fenrys shrink under his gaze as he turns back to them, golden eyes on fire.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Gavriel asks, voice low and slow.

“Shit,” Vaughan mutters, wincing at Gavriel’s growl, turning away examine the broken rail.

Both males swallow at the gaze and tone. They share a look, silently fighting between themselves as to who will speak.

“Please, don’t rush,” Gavriel crosses his arms. “After all, we can just stay here until someone confesses.”

Fenrys winces and his eyes twitch towards Aedion’s leg. Gavriel catches the action.

“Aedion,” Gavriel says, “stand up.”

“Ah,” Aedion pats his thighs. “I would, but I’m quite comfortable.”

“Really? You’re comfortable?”

“That’s right.”

“Sitting in the snow?”

“Reminds me of my childhood.”

Gavriel inhales a large breath, closing his eyes to steady and calm himself. After counting to three he turns to Fenrys, pinning the younger male with a look. Fenrys begins to squirm. Aedion grits his teeth and sends him a warning glare. Gavriel narrows his eyes. Aedion does the same. Fenrys avoids looking them both in the eye the best he can, sweat gathering on the back of his neck and father and son both send him equally threatening looks.

“Why is Aedion pale?” Gavriel questions Fenrys.

“I’m cold,” Aedion interjects.

“Lies. You were raised in this climate,” Gavriel barks, then turns back to Fenrys. “I want an answer from you.”

Fenrys bites his lip.

“I will call Aelin back,” Gavriel lowers his voice further, “and she will wonder what happened to Aedion. Are you willing to withhold that information from her?”

Fenrys swallows.

“Just tell him,” Vaughan advices from the porch, looking up to where the gutter is cracked.

“And what about me?” Gavriel continues. “I trained you. Will you deny me information of my only precious child?”

“Oh, gods above!” Aedion chokes, reaching out to grasp Fenrys’s shoulder. “We’re fine! There’s a reasonable explanation for all of this! You can stop with the guilt tripping crap.”

Gavriel ignores his son. Instead, he continues to focus on Fenrys.

“Seriously, Gavriel, we’re fi-“

“Aedion and I sled off the roof but tipped forward too much and broke the railing and Aedion has a piece of wood stabbed through his leg!” Fenrys pauses and heaves in a deep breath, finally relaxing from the strain.

“You what?!”

“Well, fuck.”

“You bastard.”

Gavriel whirls on Aedion, immediately crouching and removing the snow on his leg. Aedion grunts as his father accidentally nudges the shard in his leg. Gavriel swears when he sees it.

“I’m fine,” Aedion drawls as Gavriel examines the wound. “If I can handle being stabbed I can handle a bit of wood.”

“You’re lucky this was so thoroughly polished and varnished,” Gavriel braces Aedion leg with a hand on his knee. “Otherwise you’d have to worry about splinters. Take a breath.”

In a swift movement Gavriel yanks the wood free of Aedion’s flesh, his son barking a curse at the splitting pain before Gavriel’s warm magic seeps through him, his father’s cedar and sage scent potent with anger. Aedion goes to thank him but freezes with the way Gavriel’s eyes are already pinned on him, dark with anger and his jaw twitching.

“You’re pissed,” Aedion sighs. “I’m sorry.”

Gavriel says nothing, focusing on the leg. Aedion squirms at the lack of response, Fenrys looking away and choosing to walk up to Vaughan, the two of them awkwardly standing to the side. The last of Aedion’s skin stitches together and Gavriel turns away, picking up the largest section of broken railing and setting it against the wall of the holiday house. He then commences in picking up smaller shards, ensuring they’re all out of the snow and settled on the porch. Fenrys and Aedion watch him do this, the earlier helping the later to his feet.

“Inside,” Gavriel says, not looking at them as he enters the cabin.

They follow after him, standing awkwardly to the side as Gavriel fills the main fireplace with wood and begins striking the flints. Vaughan drags in the sled behind them, scowling as he does so.He jerks his head towards the couch, clearly indicating for Fenrys and Aedion to sit. They both do so.

Once the fire seems steady Gavriel makes his way over to them. He sits on the low table in front of the couch, examining the two of them. Vaughan leans against the fireplace, dark eyes simmering as he takes everything in.

“So,” Gavriel begins, anger still thick, “who wants to explain what happened?”

“It was my idea,” Aedion immediately interjects, ignoring Fenrys’s frantic look. “Aelin and I used to sled off the roof of her old holiday house as kids. I didn’t factor in the issue that this house has a guardrail to avoid or that Fenrys and I would be heavy.”

Silence stretches between them. Fenrys cringes at the way Gavriel pins them both under his stare. Aedion shifts at the silence.

“What I’m thinking,” Gavriel begins slowly, “is that you two must have the combined maturity of two children to have ever thought sledding off the roof would be a good idea.”

Aedion and Fenrys share a concerned look. Gavriel narrows his eyes as they look away.

“Do not,” he growls lowly, “look away from me as I am speaking to you.”

Aedion’s eyes widen, turning back to his father. Fenrys seems less shocked at the severity of the anger and more apprehensive of it.

“Not only did you engage in a completely ridiculous and childish task,” Gavriel begins, “but you damaged the house and Aedion injured himself in the process.”

“I’m fine,” Aedion scowls. “You healed me and there isn’t even a scar.”

Gavriel narrows his eyes. Fenrys winces.

“That is not the point,” Gavriel begins. “And the fact that you don’t realise that isn’t the point is even worse. You shouldn’t put your own health and safety at risk and you, Fenrys, should be mature enough after all these centuries to automatically know that sledding off a roof is a bad idea!”

“You’re right,” Fenrys agrees, sitting straight. “I apologise for indulging in such an immature act.”

Satisfied, Gavriel turns to Aedion.

“I’m sorry for endangering myself,” Aedion admits. “Especially over something so stupid.”

“Good,” Gavriel huffs. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“Trust me, it’s not on the list,” Aedion promises.

Gavriel nods. “While you two may be grown males and I can’t ground you, I candemand that you help me with cutting and moving more lumber tomorrow.”

With that Gavriel stands and stalks his way to his room, the door closing decisively behind him. Both males relax at the sound of the click, Fenrys releasing an audible breath.

“My gods,” Fenrys groans, sliding down the couch and rubbing at his face, “I thought for sure he was going to kill us. Cutting up timber is nothing, becoming a father must have softened him.”

Aedion nods. But they both stiffen at a barked laugh, snapping to attention as Vaughan stalks toward them. The look on his face suggests he knows they forgot about him and will regret it.

“He’s not giving you a harsher punishment because he knows you’re going to be working your asses off all night helping me fix this railing,” Vaughan narrows his eyes, jerking a hand towards the door. “I worked hard on this house. Now get off your asses and get ready for some woodwork. Be outside in five minutes.”

Vaughan slams the front door behind him as he exits the house, Aedion and Fenrys still able to hear him grumbling as he trudges his way through the snow to a shed with supplies. They turn at the squeaking of hinges, Gavriel sticking his head out of his bedroom.

“He’s a perfectionist,” Gavriel dryly informs them. “Get ready to redo the whole porch railing.”

With that he closes the door once again, leaving the two males to wince and wilt, dreading the night of work ahead of them.

#tog fic #cadre #family feels #aedion #tog #fenrys moonbeam #vaughan #gavriel

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